#then she takes off the prince uniform.

[asofterutena]

(ordinary girl)

[original comic by @asoftersea]

[strawchocoberry]

SHE SAID “FUCK ME LIKE I’M FAMOUS”, I SAID “OKAY”

୨୧ featuring: shidou ryusei, oliver aiku, barou shoei, chris prince, michael kaiser x fem reader 

ଘ cw: manga spoilers || smut, nipple play, fingering, size kink, pet names, rough sex, dumbification, multiple orgasms, oral sex (m receiving), mirror sex, pillow humping, masturbation, voyeurism, degradation kink, thigh fuck, thigh riding, dacryphilia, breeding kink, creampie 

୨୧ synopsis: they ruin your little cunt while you’re wearing their jerseys 

ଘ wc: 4.5k

ʚ SHIDOU RYUSEI ɞ 

“Shidou!” you called for him. “Your package is here!” 

Shidou didn’t respond to you. Curious about the contents of the package, you decided to open it for him. Knowing him, it was probably just some new sex toys or that maid outfit you had accidentally discovered that he ordered for you a few days ago. Your eyes widened as you saw the official U-20 uniform inside for his upcoming game. You traced your fingers on the back of the jersey along his name and number; Shidou 13. Taking your shirt off, you tried it on, the jersey barely covering your ass, as you were twirling around in the living room. 

A pair of two arms wrapped around your body, bringing your movements to a stop. You felt his hot breath fanning your neck, as he rested his head on your shoulder. “Seems like my package has arrived.” Shidou kissed your neck. Not the one he was impatiently waiting for, but fuck, he had never imagined seeing you in his jersey. His hands slithered underneath it, grazing your skin and making your breath hitch. A menacing smirk was curved on his lips as he realised you weren’t wearing a bra underneath. “Are you trying to seduce me, kitten? ‘Cause it’s fucking working…” he whispered in your ear. 

He was rubbing his clothed cock on your ass, whilst kissing your lips and playing with your nipples underneath his jersey. He hadn’t thought that seeing you in it would have this much of an impact on him and yet there he was, turned on and needy to fuck you. Placing two of his fingers in front of your mouth, he signalled you to open it for him and you obliged, your tongue sucking his fingers oh so perfectly, coating them with your saliva. He then slipped said fingers into your cunt, violently thrusting them in and out, having you bent over screaming, unable to maintain your composure. 

Shidou turned you around to face him and kissed your lips, as he guided you towards the couch behind you. The two of you lay down on your sides, still facing each other. His tongue slipped into your mouth, as you shared steamy open-mouthed kisses. Breaking your kiss, he removed your shorts and panties, placing your leg on top of his thigh, then rubbed teasing circles around your hole, making you moan, before he muffled your sounds with another kiss. You gasped, as he pushed his fingers in your cunt, picking up from where he left off earlier. 

You moaned as you sucked on his tongue, turning him on even more. You could see it in his eyes that were looking at you so lovely and yet so lustfully. Burying his face on the crook of your neck, he left behind hickeys and bite marks, leaving his mark on your body, while simultaneously fucking your wet pussy with his fingers, as you held tightly onto his shirt, your head thrown back and moans escaping your lips. You tightened around him, as you came undone, moaning his cursed name. 

You were panting hard in an attempt to regulate your breath, while Shidou kept fingering you through your orgasm, spreading your slick all over your inner thighs. Giving you a little time to collect yourself, he stood up and got rid of his clothes. He stood above you, one knee over the couch, his hand stroking his hard cock at your fucked out state, feeling the dopamine taking him to cloud nine, painting your ass cheeks with his cum. “Fuck— You’re making me explode, baby girl,” he groaned in pleasure. He then sat back down, taking you in his embrace, your head falling back on his shoulder, still quite dazed. 

Lining himself with your hole, you held onto his hands, as you slowly went down on him, a deep moan leaving your lips and having Shidou fight back his urge to go feral on you like a bitch in heat. You bounced yourself on his cock, moaning as he reached deep inside you. He was stretching oh so perfectly your gummy walls, you could feel every inch of him. His head had fallen back on the backrest, as Shidou kept looking at you riding him in his shirt. Only the thought that he’ll be wearing that shirt to the upcoming game had him on the verge of orgasming. 

He leant closer, biting down on your neck and engulfing himself in your scent. That’s when he snapped. Shidou held your waist bruisingly tight, before going ballistic, forcing your hips down on his shaft, his balls hitting your ass. You felt the air being violently driven out of your lungs, mouth agape and voice cracking, as your brain blacked out. “Go ahead. Cum all over my cock for me, baby girl,” he breathed in your neck. Your body obeyed his command, before your brain could even process it. 

ʚ OLIVER AIKU ɞ 

“It’s too bad that you lost to Blue Lock, but goodness you were so hot at that moment!” you squealed enthusiastically, watching for the 1000th time the moment Oliver congratulated Blue Lock on their win. The way he removed his glove with his teeth had you on a chokehold. 

Oliver could only just lay on the bed, running his fingers through your hair as you fangirled over him. He couldn’t help but find it kind of cute. “Well, now that the Japan U-20 team will be reconstructed by Blue Lock, I can’t help but wonder when — or more accurately if — I’m ever going to wear that uniform again.” He leant closer ready to kiss your lips, when you suddenly stood up and left the room, leaving him high and dry. He laughed at himself and just lay on his back with his eyes closed. 

“No matter what happens, I will always be rooting for you!” 

Hearing your voice, he opened his eyes to a surprise. You crawled towards him on the bed, wearing his jersey and kissed his lips softly. You were only going for an innocent little peck of his lips, but you should have known better. Oliver ran his fingers through your hair, his hand finding its way to the back of your head keeping you steady. You opened your eyes confused only to notice the libido gleam in his eyes; the bloody gaze of his that always had your body quivering with exhilaration. 

You melted all over him, grinding your already soaked cunt on his clothed cock. His hands rested on your ass, adding more force and friction to your movements. You moaned in your kiss, starting to lose yourself in the moment. Ridding you of your clothes, everything but his jersey, you stood on your knees on the bed, Oliver sat in-between your legs and pulled you down for another kiss, a more aggressive one, his tongue taking the upper hand of yours. He started rubbing your folds with two of his fingers, while his thumb was stimulating your clit, having you grab onto his shoulders for support. 

You gasped at how smoothly your cunt welcomed his fingers, tightening just right around them, making you feel them drag themselves along your velvet walls. Oliver curled them up, hitting your g spot, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body, as you moaned his name. He was bewitched at the sight of your lips parting to sing his name in his favourite tone, while you were wearing his jersey. His boner was starting to become unbearable. Pulling his sweatpants down, he used his free hand to stroke himself at the same tempo he fingered you. 

“Oliver… Need you… I need your cock inside me…” you moaned. 

“Ah fuck—” he shakily breathed as he cummed in his hand. 

You followed right after. As your body was overtaken by ecstasy, he removed his fingers, earning some whines from you. Holding your waist, he slowly slid you down on his shaft, making you moan at the sensation. You were impatient, so you started riding him, moving your hips relatively fast, feeling him stretch you out just like you wanted. With a swift move, Oliver manhandled you into lying on your stomach, him hovering on top of you and viciously pounding into your cunt. 

You had turned your face to the side, looking at him over your shoulder, as you moaned “Oliver…” and he would stumble to keep his sanity together, observing how gorgeous you were in his jersey. “Aiku 2” he read on the back, as he fucked you dumb, while leaving hickeys all over your defenseless neck. Maybe he needed to teach you a few things about defence. Or maybe he shouldn’t, because that would only make things more difficult for him. 

Your ass cheeks had turned red from the relentless thrusting of his hips. Oliver captured your lips, muffling your moans, as you kept creaming all over his cock. It was as if you wished he stayed there deep within you for eternity. And you indeed wished that. One of his arms wrapped underneath your hips, rubbing your clit, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You trembled underneath him and yet you couldn’t go anywhere. You were caged beneath him, forced to take everything he gave you. 

“I can never get enough of your tight little cunt, love,” Oliver moaned in your ear. You screamed, as you came undone, your fingers intertwined together, as he railed your pulsating pussy, his face resting on your shoulder, peppering your neck with kisses. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he groaned, as he thrusted his hips erratically, continuously hitting your g spot, stimulating you all over again, driving you to the edge of insanity. 

ʚ BAROU SHOEI ɞ 

You were scrolling mindlessly through your phone, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. Barou hadn’t quite yet got off of the euphoria after winning the match against FC Barcha. As soon as he came back, he kissed you, while lifting you in the air. “Tonight we’re going to celebrate,” he promised you, then vanished to have a bath. Only the thought was enough to make you get wet. Leaving your phone on the bed, you stood up and picked up his jersey from the laundry basket. It was still kind of sweaty, but you didn’t mind as you threw it over your head. 

You went to the mirror and looked at your reflection. You quite liked how large it was on you. You were so busy, posing in front of the mirror in his jersey that you failed to realise the king’s presence behind you. Your movements came to a sudden stop, your eyes locking with him through the mirror. He had just walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, hair down and his whole body dripping. 

In any other case, Barou would have surely scolded you for wearing his sweaty jersey, as that was so unclean of you. But at that moment, he just couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He read “Barou 13” on your arched back and his body went in a rut, seeing how nicely your ass was popping out underneath his jersey. Before you could even think of moving a muscle, he found himself behind you, his hands groping your ass, as his lips kissed your neck. 

“Look at you, dressing up formally for an audience with your king,” he whispered in your ear. Grabbing your chin, he turned you to him, crushing his lips on yours. He sneakily slid one of his arms underneath his jersey, cupping your breast and pinching your nipple hard, making you whine on his lips. Pulling away from his lips, you kissed his neck, collarbone, upper chest, reaching down his abs and stopping above the towel. 

Sitting now on your knees, as if hypnotised by his aroused state, you threw the towel to the side and licked your lips, as your hand stroked his length. You peppered his shaft with kitten licks, lollying over that one angry vein that made him mad with pleasure, groaning as he looked down at you, his right hand ruffling your hair, before resting on the back of your head as you slowly took him in your mouth. His breath came out shaky, as your tongue swirled around his tip teasingly. He thought you looked oh fuck so irresistible that he couldn’t wait to slide his cock deep in your cunt. 

“Fuck— Yes, that’s it, that’s it…” Barou breathed hard, as he cummed in your mouth. “Swallow it all up like the good girl you are.”

And you did. Pulling you up by your arm, he wiped away some of his cum from the corner of your lips, then slid his thumb into your mouth for you to lick it clean. With a swift move, he had you facing the mirror, as his bigger figure loomed over yours. “You’re dripping…” he cooed, biting your ear, as he rubbed his fingers on your bare folds. You squirmed, back arched and head hanging low, filthy moans echoing in the room. Your legs trembled as he wickedly thrusted his fingers in your cunt, the squelching sounds making you a babbling mess from how good he was making you feel. 

His other arm wrapped around your waist and reached your clit, forcing your eyes to roll to the back of your skull and your head to fall back on his shoulders, as you literally cried from pleasure. You were moaning in his ear and yet Barou couldn’t care less if the last thing he ever heard was your honeyed voice and the sounds of his fingers fucking your cunt. Your body violently spasmed in his caging embrace, your orgasm hitting you hard, causing you to feel lightheaded. 

You were panting hard, hands barely able to hold onto the mirror for some stability, when you felt his girth rubbing against you. With one sharp thrust of his hips, he was now stretching you out, amused at how your pussy was already clamping down around him; and he had only just put his cock inside you. He assumed a similar pace as before, fucking you hard, his balls slapping your ass, marking the spot red. “Look in the mirror,” he ordered, slapping your ass, making your body jolt. When you refused to oblige out of pure embarrassment, he choked your neck, forcing you to look at your reflections. “Look how well you take my cock.” He slapped your ass once more. 

He bit down on your neck and sucked on your soft skin, leaving his marks all over you to prove that you were his. His hands held tightly onto your waist, forcefully slamming your hips against his, hitting deep inside at that sweet cursed spot that had you become an utter mess for him. Your cunt creamed around him as you orgasmed. Barou had to practically wrap an arm around you, otherwise you would have ended up on the floor. His hips continued pumping deep in you, as he was almost on the edge of release himself. 

ʚ CHRIS PRINCE ɞ 

Chris was one of the few men on earth who actually knew how to please a woman. And you felt lucky to be his, as you had the privilege of spending all those intimate moments with him. But if you were honest, you had but one tiny complaint; his excessive working hours. You wouldn’t usually mind, but shit it was your worst nightmare whenever you really needed him pounding into you and he was nowhere to be found, just like right now. Chris was running late at a photoshooting and you felt like losing your mind. 

There you were, humping down one of the pillows on your bed, while wearing his jersey from last night’s game. You wanted to curse at him for not being there to take care of poor little you and yet you couldn’t really utter a single word, as your primary focus was to ride your pillow as best as you could to relieve yourself. And when that wasn’t enough for you, you lay back on the headboard, legs spread open and running your fingers on your drenched folds. You slid two fingers inside, pumping them in your pulsating cunt, moaning his name as you chased after that sweet high that had your mind turn completely blank. 

“How kind of you to loosen up yourself for me,” Chris whispered in your ear. “I really liked the view.” He kissed your lips. He was stunned to say the least. When he rushed back home from the photoshooting, he wouldn’t have expected to find you touching yourself in his jersey. He was standing by the doorframe, watching how your pussy eagerly welcomed your fingers in. He couldn’t just sit there and yet he couldn’t bring himself to inform you of his arrival — not quite yet — as he wished to enjoy the show for as long as he could. He stripped himself and stroked his cock at how magnificent you were, blessing his ears with your moans. 

Having you sit on your hands and knees, he hovered above you, sliding his cock between your tightly squeezed thighs, rubbing against your drenched cunt. One of his muscular arms was holding your body, while the other fondled your breast. “You couldn’t wait for me to return, could you?” he mocked you, as you moaned his name at the delightful friction. Abruptly, Chris shoved your face in the pillow, holding your hips in the air and thrusting his bulging cock inside your velvet walls. 

“Fuck—” he groaned at how tight you felt around him. His eyes fell upon his jersey which you were still wearing, gazing lustfully at his name on it; Prince 7. You moaned at how hard he thrusted in you, hitting all the right spots only he knew that would make you the perfect babbling mumbling mess for him. “I must be the luckiest person on earth, having the pleasure of fucking a slut like you,” he cooed, his cock repeatedly hitting your g spot, having your whole body twitch in ecstasy. 

You screamed in the pillow, while creaming on his cock, your filthy sounds filling the room. Chris would slap your ass and smirk at the red handprint he left there. He would kiss your neck and cover you in his marks, while telling you how good that little cunt of yours felt, as he viciously thrusted his cock inside. “Isn’t this what you wanted when you were touching yourself earlier?” he taunted, his voice breathless from the moment. “Isn’t this what you were imagining me do? Fuck you hard, just the way you like?” 

It was better than your little dirty imaginations. You couldn’t even begin to compare the difference between your fantasies and the way he rearranged your guts inside you right then and there. Every time you thought you had experienced the absolute pleasure he could possibly give you, he proved you wrong. But you loved that and he knew. He knew how much you loved when he treated you as nothing but a slut, for that’s what you were; his slut. Chris was aware of the difference between your staminas, yet he never failed to push you a little over your limit every time, making you hold on for a few more minutes. 

His cock was throbbing in your pussy, making you realise that he was close to his release. You were nearing your release as well. Your walls spasmed around him, coating him with your cum. He followed behind you a few minutes later, painting your insides white. And as usual he didn’t stop. No, he was only getting started. The night was young and your wearing his jersey made him feel a certain type of way, wanting to pound on you until he was sick of it. “C-Chris…” you called for him. “I-I can’t… It’s t-too much…” you whined. 

But he completely ignored you, continuing to thrust into you at full throttle. You were overwhelmed, feeling as if your heart would give out from the overstimulation any moment now. His cum from his previous orgasms was dripping down your thighs, your abused cunt was at his mercy, begging for him to stop. “Oh fuck—” he groaned, as he cummed again, pulling out and observing in awe how pretty you looked, before pecking your lips. 

ʚ MICHAEL KAISER ɞ 

“How do I look?” you asked him, turning around for him to admire you in the gorgeous long dress he had bought for you. 

“You look exquisite, darling,” Kaiser smiled at you. 

He had just returned the day before from a trip abroad with the other players of Bastard München, as they had an overseas match. As usual, he completely annihilated his opponents. But it was a shame that you couldn’t go with him. Kaiser, who loved to spoil you, came back with a mountain of presents; perfumes, bags, jewellery, clothes, shoes. And now, he was sitting on the armchair next to his bed in his black with white details robe fresh out of a bath and watched you try on everything he had bought you. He was pleased noticing how utterly beautiful you looked in every single one of them. 

And yet he thought that a different kind of attire would suit you even better. “Try this on for me, darling.” Hesitantly taking the jersey from his hand, you disappeared in his walk-in wardrobe to change. You couldn’t help but giggle, feeling his scent engulfing your body. Walking out, you approached him and slightly bent over, your eyes sparkling with anticipation for his answer to your question. 

He didn’t even wait for you to ask your question, when he pulled you to sit on his lap, your thighs on either side of his. Kaiser was already eating you out with his eyes, as his hands caressed your body, before ultimately resting on your waist. He slipped them underneath his jersey, his fingers running across your ass, when he suddenly stopped. His gaze darkened, as he realised you weren’t wearing any panties, a spark of lust lurking somewhere deep in his eyes, as he slapped your ass, earning a whimpering moan from you. Fixing his glasses on top of the bridge of his nose, he rested his head on his arm. “Ride my thigh.”, he ordered. 

You were frozen for a minute, still processing his words. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he stated in a strict tone, slapping you once more. Sitting properly on his thigh, you started humping yourself on it. Kaiser just comfortably sat there, watching you get yourself off on his thick thigh. He could feel your cunt becoming more and more drenched, curving a menacing smirk on his lips. You couldn’t even wish to deny the utter pleasure you got from the moment. And yet, you longed for his touch. It could be as simple as cupping your cheek and kissing your lips. Or it could be as bad as grabbing your waist and making you ride him himself. 

However, Kaiser did no such thing. “I’m not going to touch you at all,” he stated to clear any misunderstanding from your part. You whined at his statement, yet continued humping yourself on his thigh. Your mouth was hanging open, as moan after moan rolled off your tongue. You felt the oxygen in your lungs decreasing, as you were feeling overwhelmed. He stayed true to his word. He didn’t touch you, not even once. He didn’t even bounce his leg to add some friction. And that drove you over the edge of insanity, feeling as if you could lose your mind any minute now. 

“Don’t slow down now,” he taunted. “I know you’re close. I can feel your cunt pulsing.”

He was right, you were indeed about to cum. But your strength betrayed you. You felt numb after only humping yourself on his thigh. “Kaiser… Please… Touch me…” you whined, hoping that he might take some pity in the pathetic little you and drive you to your orgasm. “Only you can make me cum…”

Ridding himself of his robe, he lifted you up and threw you on the bed. Taking his glasses off, which he left on the nightstand, he climbed up, hovering above you, looking down at you as a predator looking at its prey. He attacked your neck, biting your flesh hard, making you scream, whilst his left hand slid down your body and came in contact with your pussy. He rubbed his fingers on your drenched folds, then violently thrusted them inside, making your breath hitch and your back arch. Within minutes, you cummed on his fingers, hearing him evilly laugh at you. 

He didn’t give you time to take a break. He rolled you on your stomach, spread your legs and slightly lifted your hips up. He stroked his throbbing cock a few times, before aligning himself with your hole. “Wait, Kaiser—” He thrusted hard into your cunt that gladly swallowed him up. His thrusts were violent, as he almost completely pulled out, before slamming forcefully himself back in. He was holding tightly onto your right bicep and the back of your throat, holding you down to take all of him. 

Kaiser 10; if you wanted to blame someone — or more accurately something — that would be his jersey. The moment you walked out wearing his large jersey that barely covered your ass, he thought you were the most breathtaking woman in the world. However, his possessiveness soon enough usurped control over his body and here we are now. You were screaming on top of your lungs, tightly holding onto the bed sheets, as Kaiser ravaged your cunt. 

You could feel your ass burning red from his aggressive thrusts and yet you felt so good, you couldn’t stop coating him with your slick. He noticed you crying and couldn’t help but chuckle, as he leant down and kissed a tear away. You were whimpering, asking him — no, begging him to be a tiny bit gentler. And as expected, he outrageously condemned your pleas, whilst sucking one of his bite marks on your neck. “No matter what you say, you’re loving this. Your cunt is tightened perfectly around me, my little whore,” he cooed in your ear. 

He made you cum again and again, to the point where you couldn’t think a single thing anymore. Your body reacted instinctively to him. You were but a whiny moaning mess, mumbling incoherent words along with his name. Kaiser couldn’t have been more pleased with this outcome. “Fuck—” he moaned, as he thrust one more time and orgasmed, his head falling back, cumming deep in your abused cunt.

© strawchocoberry — do not copy, repost, translate or reuse my work

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 49 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley confides in you, loves you, and takes care of as much as he can. When he needs you to help him more than usual, you never complain. As the two of you get ready for a hectic weekend, Bradley makes sure he has his plans in order. And he reminds you that you're always one of his top priorities, even when things get busy.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, oral, smut, cock warming, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

It was dark outside, and you were sitting on the couch with Skittles while you waited for Bradley to get home. Noah was already sound asleep, worn out from an evening of helping you make ants on logs and going for a hike around the block, but you were alert and antsy. All you got was a text from Bradley an hour ago letting you know he was on his way home.

Skittles aimed her puppy eyes right up at you. "I know. I miss him, too." It was kind of funny the way all three Bradshaws had the same brown eyes that made you want to give them anything they asked for. "Okay, fine. But don't tell anyone about it."

You stood and the pup followed you into the kitchen where you cut up a meatball and dumped it into her food bowl. Then you heard the front door open and nearly wiped out on your way back to the living room where Bradley was closing the front door behind him. He had his uniform belt and a ziploc bag filled with his pins in one hand, but he held the other out for you. 

"What happened?" you asked as you tucked yourself against him and examined his face. His expression was unreadable. "Did she sign the paper?"

He nodded as Skittles ran in and sniffed his boot. "Yeah. She signed it," he replied, leaning to kiss your lips as you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

"Wow," you whispered, standing in the living room right next to the area rug where you were laying the first time he ever told you about Meredith. "I'm... kind of surprised."

"Me, too." He tossed his belt and pins onto the couch and held you close. 

You didn't want to pry too much, but you were so curious, it was killing you inside. "What was it like when you talked to her?"

Bradley rubbed his face against your hair as he undid the top few buttons of his uniform shirt before wrapping his arm around you again. "It went better than I expected. I was only in the room with her for maybe ten minutes. She..."

You rubbed soft circles against his back as he collected his thoughts. You didn't care how long it took him to get the words out, you just wanted him to know you'd always be here to listen. His heartbeat was strong and steady as you let your head rest on his chest, and he gave you a little squeeze.

When he spoke again, his voice was rough and sent a chill along your back. "She thinks she would have been better off if she had an abortion. And I tend to agree with her in some respects. But my god, I'm so happy she didn't. I can't even think about living without Noah. So I'm happy she didn't do it." His voice broke, and your eyes welled up with tears. 

"Me too, Daddy," you whispered as you started to tug him toward the kitchen. He'd already had a very long week, but now you could take care of him so he didn't have to do it by himself.

"Baby, I'm fucking exhausted. I'm not hungry. Can we just go to bed?"

You nodded and changed direction. "Of course." You worked on the rest of his buttons and helped him out of his shirt. When he sat on the edge of the bed, you knelt to untie his boots and yank them off, and Bradley looked at you with such adoration, it made your cheeks feel warm. You peeled off his socks, too, and when you got up, you sat on his lap. 

"I'm really proud of you for going to talk to Meredith," you whispered. "I hope Noah grows up to be just like you."

Bradley scooped you up and lounged back against the pillows with you on top of him. "Funny thing about that, Princess... I hope he grows up to be just like you."

Less than fifteen minutes later, you lulled Bradley to sleep while you played with his hair and softly kissed his face. "I love you, Princess," he muttered as you rubbed your nose against his. Then you crept back out of bed to make sure everything was in order for the three of you for the following morning, and you stopped in Noah's room to kiss him before getting ready for bed yourself.

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

Wednesday and Thursday were both long days, and once again Bradley had to rely on you to pick up all of his slack when it came to Noah. Cyclone was running him ragged in preparation for the air show. Wednesday, he went to the bank to transfer the money into a new account with just his name and Noah's on it. Thursday, he went back to talk to Tracy as soon as he could leave base. 

When he called and asked her if she could help him put up some extra safeguards for his own peace of mind, she told him she could. When he strolled into her office for the second time in one week, she was talking on the phone and drinking a Red Bull, but she pointed to the conference table and a large folder with his name on the front. He skimmed through a stack of paperwork; she'd really thought of everything. Tracy even had your name listed on several documents along with a few notes for you to read. 

When she ended her call, he said, "Thanks for helping me with this. I want to get it all in order."

"You mean like I told you to do years ago?" she asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Listen. At least I'm doing it now."

"I hope you brought your checkbook this time."

When he eventually got home, you already had dinner on the table, and Noah was eating a piece of broccoli. And sure, he'd just dropped another couple hundred bucks when he wrote out a check, but he'd be damned if anything was going to mess with his family again. He set the folder and checkbook down on the counter and bent to kiss you between bites of your dinner while he tousled Noah's hair. 

"You're home earlier than I thought, Daddy," you remarked when he leaned in for another kiss. "And that's a mighty fine looking checkbook you've got there."

"I've been late too much this week," he whispered, stealing a piece of broccoli from your plate. "It shouldn't be like this."

"Next week will be better," you promised. "After the air show and everything this weekend, next week will be quieter. And then maybe I can plan our trip to Disneyland."

"Shhh!" Bradley scolded playfully, reaching to cover Noah's ears as he started to feed his broccoli to Skittles who was begging next to his chair. "Not so loud." You laughed and pointed to the stove where a plate of dinner was waiting for him. "Thanks, Princess."

Once he settled in, you looked at him with a little smirk. "You know, all of these late nights meant I didn't get to my nail appointment. I wanted to have them done for the hospital tour and the air show."

Bradley grimaced. The tour was tomorrow, and you were already leaving work an hour early to get there on time with him. "I'm sorry. The week really got away from me. I should have reminded you to buy a new outfit or two if you wanted."

"Oh, I did," you told him. "I used my Princess card."

He swallowed hard. He could tell you were subtly asking him for a spanking, and he was more than happy to give it to you, but he had something else in mind for the remainder of the night after Noah was in bed. He glanced at his son who was now picking apart his chicken. "Can you take a raincheck, Baby? I have some other plans for the next few days, but I'd love to get my hands on you next week?"

You raised one eyebrow. "What are your other plans?"

He took a bite of food before he said, "I'll tell you after bedtime. After you show me the clothes you bought."

Eventually he sent you off to change into one of these new outfits while he got Noah ready for bed. "I'll be home more next week, Bub. I promise. We'll have time to read more books. And maybe one night you and I can go to the park and give Mommy a little break?"

His son nodded as he rolled over and closed his eyes. But Bradley didn't really want to give you a break. He wanted you with him and Noah all the time. And after this weekend, he anticipated that feeling would grow even stronger.

When he walked into his bedroom and found you examining yourself in front of  the mirror with a form fitting black dress hugging your body, he groaned. "Are you wearing that for the hospital tour?" he asked, and you looked at him in the mirror. 

"Yes?" you replied. "Unless you think it's too much."

He grunted softly. Of course it was too much. You looked sinful in it. All he had to do is put his hand on your ass, bunch the fabric up an inch, and everyone would be privy to the charms he got to enjoy on a regular basis. His cock grew a little hard just thinking about it, which is why he shook his head and told you, "It's not too much, Baby. Not if you're with me all night."

You smiled and peeled it off, baring yourself to him before reaching for the floral sundress on the bed. "What are you wearing tomorrow night?" you asked.

"My flight suit."

"You can't wear that! It's for work and for looking sexy at home!" you protested as you put the second dress on. 

"Cyclone wants me in my flight suit both days. Please don't make me piss him off."

You laughed and spun in your second dress and he closed the distance to you. "I'll behave. Like a good girl."

Bradley kissed your forehead. "You're wearing this to the air show?"

"Yes," you whispered. "I got Noah a yellow shirt to match me."

Bradley wasn't sure exactly why, but that information sent his brain into a whirlwind. Matching outfits. Mommy and son stuff. "Princess," he moaned. 

"We'll look cute next to you in your sexy flight suit."

"You will look hot as hell both days," he confirmed, helping you pull the sundress off again. "Now, I think I owe you a manicure and a pedicure?" he asked, making you gasp and smile.

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

You quickly changed into one of Bradley's oversized shirts and met him in the kitchen with all your nail supplies. "Are you really going to do this?" you asked him, and he just nodded and smirked like he had a little secret. "Wait... are you secretly really good at painting nails?"

He shrugged and patted his knee, naked except for his black briefs. "I have no idea. Never tried it before."

It somehow made you feel giggly that he was going to sweetly attempt to do your nails for you even though he didn't know how. You settled down on his lap and set out some bottles of polish. "Which color?" you asked him. 

He had his lips on your neck as he murmured, "Do you really need to ask? Purple, Baby."

You moaned his name as you pushed the other colors aside, and then Bradley's hand was up underneath the shirt, teasing your skin and checking to see if you were wearing underwear. You leaned back against his chest and looked up at him over your shoulder. "You feel like fooling around first?"

His thumb stroked softly along the length of your slit. "Kind of," he said, his voice deep and raspy. "You ever warmed a cock before?"

The pad of his thumb felt a little rough, sending goosebumps all along your skin and making your lips part in need. "No," you whispered, always a little sheepish to admit your lack of experience when it came to things that he liked. "But I've heard of it."

He hummed softly and kissed your ear as he continued to stroke you. "You want me to tell you a little more about it? And maybe then you can tell me if you think it's something you'd enjoy?" When you nodded, he kissed your neck and said, "You would take my cock inside you. We would make each other feel warm and safe, and I could paint your nails while we sit here. No thrusting or anything." He dragged his lips and mustache back up to your ear. "You could warm me with your mouth, pussy or ass." You moaned softly, already clenching as he stroked his thumb up and back down your slit. "But since you didn't give yourself some time with your plug first, we could try it with your pussy. If you want to."

Even the idea of it sounded hot and intimate, and you were surprised and delighted that he wanted to try this with you. All of it. The cock warming and the nail painting and just everything. You turned slightly in his lap and took his face in your hands. His skin was warm and rough beneath your hands where his stubble was growing back from when he shaved earlier this morning. His brown eyes were fixed on yours. "I want to," you whispered as you kissed him. 

He smiled softly as you let your hands trail down his body to the waistband of his briefs. When he lifted his hips, you yanked them down and marveled at the sight of his half hard cock resting on his thigh. "You do that to me," he rasped, visibly growing harder. "Just having you on my lap, and the way you let me touch you. Baby, that's all you."

You whimpered into his mouth as he kissed you, and when you turned so your back was to his chest, you said, "This is what you do to me, Daddy." Then you spread your thighs and draped your legs over his, and you took his hand in yours. You eased his thumb along your slit again, this time letting him feel how wet you were when you were spread open for him. 

He murmured, "I love you," into the crook or your neck while he cock bobbed up and tapped against your inner thigh. "You ready?"

"Yes," you sighed, and Bradley reached in front of you with his right hand and guided his cock through your wet folds and inside you. When you adjusted yourself and leaned forward a bit, the sensation of being so full made you gasp as you took him to the hilt.

"Feel okay?" he asked softly, pulsing gently inside you even though he wasn't thrusting. "If you don't like it, we'll stop."

You turned your head to look at him. "I like it. A lot. I feel so full. Do you like it?"

"Feels incredible," he whispered. "Like you're just holding me and gripping me with your sweet pussy." Heat rose in your face as the raspiness of his voice washed over you. Then he asked, "Want me to try to paint your nails?"

You sat there with Bradley's arms wrapped around you and your palms flat on the kitchen table while his cock was nestled inside you. Neither of you moved very much, and your voices were soft as he worked slowly. After he finished a nail, he treated your neck and cheek to a smattering of kisses, and his breathing was even next to your ear while he worked. 

"I can't even look at the color purple without thinking about you," he murmured, and you clenched around him. "God, Baby," he gasped. "Fuck."

You couldn't help that you loved being loved by him. "You feel really good inside me," you told him as he swiped polish onto your left ring finger. He seemed to be taking extra time with that one, kissing and nipping at your ear between each dip of the brush into the bottle.

"Baby, you hardly wear any jewelry," he mused.

You laughed softly as he finally moved to your pinky. When you adjusted yourself on his lap, he grunted. "I don't really have any jewelry."

"And if I got you some, would you wear it?"

"That's a ridiculous question. Of course I would. But you already get me what I need, and you paid off my school loans. You don't need to buy me anything else."

He finished with your pinky and screwed the lid on the nail polish bottle. "But I want to." When his hands came to rest on your thighs, he remarked, "Your nails turned out better than I expected."

"They look so good, Daddy," you said, holding your hands up. 

"How long does this shit take to dry?"

"Maybe ten minutes?"

He gently took both of your wrists in his hands and set your palms back on the table. "You want me to paint your toenails, too?"

"Please," you whispered as his hands returned to the tops of your thighs. He was humming as he cupped your pussy with his fingers while he dragged his other hand up to your breasts beneath the shirt you were wearing. 

Hands rough against your nipples, he asked, "Will you let me fuck you first? Paint your pussy really pretty too?"

"Oh my god, yes."

As soon as the words left your tongue, Bradley groaned loudly and thrusted upwards while he stroked your clit, and you practically screamed. "You have to be quiet, Princess," he warned, and you pressed your lips together. "God, you got me so fucking worked up, just sitting here with your little pussy wrapped around me."

He fucked up into of you again and again until you were actually holding onto the table to keep yourself upright on his lap. "Daddy," you whimpered as he went a little faster. Each movement had your clit bouncing against his sure fingers, and when he started spanking you softly with them, you nearly screamed again. 

"Oh. Oh, fuck," he grunted, panting next to your ear. His breath was warm, and his words were sinfully deep as he told you, "I'm gonna come." He moaned your name as he held you to his chest, fucking you with your legs spread wide on his lap. "It's so fucking good."

Bradley's hips rolled as he filled you with his cum, his broad chest rising and falling against your back. You were about to turn and kiss him when he hauled you to your feet as his softening cock slipped out of you. You squealed as he eased you down onto the floor on your back and pushed your legs open wide. 

"What are you doing?" you asked as he knelt and eased himself into position with his hands on the backs of your thighs. 

"You didn't come." He licked your pussy, making you gasp. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter if you came tonight or not, because you loved the cock warming, but his face was already buried in your messy pussy. You felt so wet as you propped yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. His mustache was covered in his own cum and your wetness as he looked up at you and said, "You didn't get enough of my attention this week. You deserve more. I always want you to have more. I'll make you come."

He sounded so sure of himself, and as soon as you nodded he went back to work. "Daddy!" you whined when his tongue swept up around both of your holes before swirling around your clit like he was unwilling to leave any of his cum behind. Just the thought of it had you clenching, and then he started to fuck you with his fingers while he sucked on your clit. The noises were beautifully obscene.

As he started to add a little pressure, you realized something big was building inside you. "Oh god!" you groaned, once again loud enough that you should be concerned about waking up Noah. Your hips rocked up to meet his mouth and fingers, and your legs started shaking. 

Bradley grunted as he licked a long stripe and then started to suck. When he released you, your hips bobbed to chase him for more. "So damn sensitive," he crooned, his face a glistening mess as he licked his mouth and looked up at you. "Squirt for me."

You don't know how he knew better than you did what you were about to do, but he licked you from your asshole all the way to your clit while you rocked against him. He pumped two fingers deep inside you, stroking you just right while he plucked at your clit, and you shook your head from side to side on the kitchen floor.

"Daddy." It came out as a gasp as you felt yourself gush. 

You squirted on his face. You could feel it dripping down your butt to the floor. You felt wet everywhere as Bradley continued to pump his fingers gently in and out. "Baby," he whined, licking all around your overworked pussy until you shook. Then he kissed along your inner thigh and said, "I always want to make you come. You're mine. Now don't move an inch. You've done enough."

He leaned over your body, and kissed your lips, letting you taste the mess both of you made all over his face. It was intoxicating, licking his own cum from his mustache where he also tasted like you. But perhaps the best part was the way he slipped his tongue into your mouth before he said, "I love you."

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

Bradley took his time, making sure they looked as good as he could get them. Every swipe of polish on one of your toenails was accompanied by a press of his lips to your foot or ankle. You were laying on the floor looking like a perfect fucked out mess. He could still see a drop of his cum ready to drip out of your pussy if you moved just right, and you'd squirted all over him and the floor. The whole room smelled like sex and nail polish with your underlying wildflower scent, and he wished he could bottle it up. 

You giggled when he pressed his lips and mustache to your ankle. "Tickles," you whispered, looking up at him in adoration. So he kissed your ankle again before finishing up with his painting project and blowing softly on your nails. Your eyes drifted closed as you told him, "You're such a dream, Bradley. You just painted my nails and made me squirt on the kitchen floor."

This was the life he wanted with you. He'd worship you and love you. Take care of anything you or Noah needed. Dote on his family. And if another baby came along, well, he was ready for that, too. After this weekend, he prayed you'd be sporting your engagement ring, because more than anything else, he was ready for that next step. 

He kissed the side of your big toe before setting your foot down on the messy floor. "Your nails look damn good."

"Thank you, Daddy," you whispered as you pushed yourself up and crawled toward him. He picked you up and carried you directly to the bathroom where he got the shower ready for you and pulled his shirt over your head.

"I'll be right back. As soon as I clean up the floor." He kissed your smiling lips before dashing back into the kitchen. He took a deep breath and groaned. "Incredible," he whispered, wiping up the floor and cleaning up your nail supplies. Then he joined you in the shower.

"Will you sing to me?" you asked a little groggily when he wrapped you up in his arms. He sang his favorite song while he looked at your purple nails and thought about getting that ring on your finger. As soon as you were in bed for the night, he made sure Noah was asleep, and then he took Skittles outside. Before he climbed in bed, he checked the top of the closet for the ring box. Everything was ready to go. When he pulled the covers up, you scooted closer to him in your sleep. 

"I love you, Baby."

Friday morning, he needed to be on base early, so he woke you up just before he left in his flight suit. When he pressed his lips to your forehead, you tried to pull him back into bed. "I can't," he whispered with a laugh. "But I'll be home and ready to leave for the hospital tour at five. And Amelia should be here by then, too."

"Okay," you croaked softly as you cracked one eye open. "I'll take care of Noah."

"I know you will," Bradley rasped, now desperately wishing he could climb back in bed with you and let you know how much he fucking appreciated you. "I'll leave the coffee maker on. I love you."

You waved from bed as he grabbed his wallet and keys and made his way to the front door. There was nobody out yet, and he got to base quickly only to find Nat and Javy practically groping each other by their cars. When she saw his Bronco pulling in, Nat jumped away from Javy like he was actually made out of fire and started to head for the building. 

"Could have told you to stay away from that one, man," Bradley said as he closed his door behind him.

"I asked her out," Javy replied sadly. "Four times."

Bradley clapped him on the shoulder. "Either throw in the towel now, or get ready for the longest marathon of your life." 

He started walking away when Javy called out, "So you think if I stick with it, she'll admit she's in love with me?"

Bradley shrugged. "The only thing I know for sure is that she's a pain in the ass."

Bradley dropped his stuff off in the locker room and headed out onto the tarmac where Cyclone and Mav were waiting for him. He saluted both of his superiors and then collected the paperwork Admiral Simpson handed to him. "This is your itinerary for tomorrow morning. Be here by 0500 to fly your aircraft up to Miramar to meet with everyone else you'll be flying with. Some are from Lemoore. Some are from out of state. Make Top Gun look good."

Then he left Bradley alone with Mav to go over the schedule and practice the maneuvers. "Listen," Bradley said as they walked toward his jet. "The earlier I can get out of here today, the better."

"Amelia's babysitting tonight, right?" Maverick asked. "You're doing the charity hospital tour?"

"Yeah, and I'll need to get some actual sleep tonight if I'm waking up at four in the morning tomorrow," Bradley replied. "It's not just about the air show at this point." When Mav gave him a confused look, Bradley sighed and added, "I'm hoping to go from boyfriend to fiancé this weekend." Maverick broke out into a toothy grin. "And don't you dare tell Penny!"

He held his hands up innocently before pulling Bradley in for a tight hug. "It'll be our little secret. But your mom and dad would have loved to see how good you are with Noah, and that you chose a partner with him in mind. And I'm proud of you, too."

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

"But I'm hungry," Noah whined as soon as you got him home. Casey pissed you off by taking so long to retrieve Noah, and now you were running late. The plan was for Amelia to order a pizza since you and Bradley would be enjoying food at the cocktail reception, but you still needed to get ready to go. Thankfully you usually always had a snack prepared.

"How about some ants on logs?" you asked him as you kicked off your shoes and opened the back door for Skittles. Before Noah could answer, you opened the refrigerator and pulled out the container of carrots and peanut butter. He settled in a chair at the table and started crunching through a carrot stick. You started to feel flushed and warm when you thought about last night's activities that took place exactly where you were standing now. 

Skittles broke you free from your thoughts as she pawed at the door to come inside. You scooped some dinner into her bowl and then ran to the bedroom as you said, "I'll be right back, Noah." 

Black dress, black heels, black thong. You smiled for the millionth time when you looked at your purple nails. You just needed to get your beaded clutch down from the top of the closet. As you stood on tiptoes, you brushed your hand along the shelf. Your fingers connected with Bradley's gym bag, and you pushed it out of the way. Then you felt the corners of a small, square box instead of your bag, and you wrapped your fingers around it just when you heard knocking at the front door.

You gave up on your quest and ran to let Amelia inside. "Hey," she said casually as you opened the door.

"Can you order a pizza and feed Noah?" you asked her as you handed her your purple credit card. "I really need to get ready."

"Sure," she replied heading for the kitchen where she greeted Noah with a pat on his head. You could hear her asking what kind of pizza he wanted while she got his coloring books out. 

When you made it back to the closet, this time you got your hand on your beaded bag right away. "Perfect," you muttered. You took the world's fastest shower and got your hair and makeup perfected. When you heard Bradley walk inside, you were slipping your thong up your legs and then shimmying into your dress. When you looked in the mirror, you turned to inspect yourself. Everything looked pretty damn good. 

"Hey, Princess," Bradley said when he let himself in the bedroom. "Wow."

The look he was giving you was so funny when he himself was standing there in a clean flight suit looking like a million bucks. "You look hot, Daddy," you said as you picked up your high heels and rushed toward him. "We need to go, or we'll be late."

He kissed you and wrapped his hands around your hips. "We could just stay home? I think we should stay home."

You pouted up at him playfully. "But I wanted to tour the hospital. Jake promised me he'd take me if he was flying in the air show. Remember?"

Bradley stroked your jaw with his thumb, a playful smile on his lips. "Don't be a brat."

You moaned as he took your shoes from your hand and knelt in front of you. "I'll behave," you promised, your breath catching a bit at the sight of him on one knee as he helped you step into your shoes. You let your fingers play with his wavy hair as he kissed your thighs just below the bottom of your dress, and when he stood, he scooped you up in his arms. 

"As excited as you are about tonight, that's how excited I am for tomorrow," he whispered as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

"I'm excited for everything," you promised as he carried you out to say goodnight to Noah.

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

Daddy has some big plans for the weekend. And if she touches that box one more time, he might have a heart attack. But what I wouldn't give to have him paint my nails. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 50

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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[roo-bi-unrestricted]

ɴ.ɴ.ɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ...

ʙʟɪᴛᴢᴏ , ᴍᴏxxɪᴇ , ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴛʀɪᴋᴇʀ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ : ʙʟɪᴛᴢᴏ / ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ , ᴍᴏxxɪᴇ / ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ , ꜱᴛʀɪᴋᴇʀ / ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄᴀᴛᴇɢᴏʀʏ : ꜱᴍᴜᴛ

ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ : ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ

ᴛʏᴘᴇ : ᴍɪɴɪ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ [2] [3]

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 1,453 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

ʙʟɪᴛᴢᴏ

At first, Blitzo started to think that you were joking about this ' challenge ' that you had stumbled upon up in the human realm. Since Blitzo loved a good challenge, he couldn't help himself from participating.

" No Nut November? " Blitzo snickers before continuing, " Who do you think I am, ( Name )? I can last more than a month without cumming. Hell, I could even last a whole year if I really wanted to. "

I could imagine him boasting to you about how he's going to win the challenge and how easy it is for him to not cum, but not even a week in, he's struggling a bit. It doesn't make it any better how you accidentally tease him.

He can't even stare at you for too long. Seeing you come back into the I.M.P building, covered in blood with your uniform clinging to your skin, Blitzo immediately looks away from you and takes a deep breath.

He tries not to be obvious about it, but whenever you walk past him or sit next to him, he would have to move a little further from you. Blitzo even has to temporarily cancel his agreement with Stolas to avoid the prince from seducing him.

Stolas doesn't make his situation any better, either. He will send Blitzo erotic pictures and voice messages of him. It's a struggle to not jerk off to the prince and a huge challenge for Blitzo when Stolas starts to call him.

With Blitzo being a week in, he fails. He called you into his office and straight up told you to give him a blowjob. You could see his raging erection through his pants, and while you would have normally said yes, you turn him down.

The imp begins to beg you to do something to him. Anything. He was a complete wreck by the time you got to the office. You do end up reliving the poor thing, but not with the way he would want.

You give him a handjob.

You make sure to take your sweet time as you jerk him off, hearing him growling and mumbling underneath his breath, demanding you to go faster.

By the end of it, he came on his desk, staining his paperwork and making a mess. When you were finished, Blitzo quickly pulled you up onto his lap. You could hear his strangled and harsh breaths against your neck.

Fuck, you could even feel his cock right up against your ass.

" You aren't going anywhere until you help me fix this mess. I don't give a fuck if the others hear us or if they come in. You started this, now help me clean it up. "

ᴍᴏxxɪᴇ

The idea of N.N.N. came to Moxxie because of Millie. The two of you had been planning to do this to Moxxie for a while now. When telling him about the challenge, he was extremely flustered. Was this going to mess up with his work, and was it going to make him lose time on the tasks assigned to him by Blitzo?

" Millie, ( Name ) I don't know if we- I can do this.. This ' challenge ' sounds concerning, to say the least. It is too much of a risk for us to do so, and we would be wasting time. "

" Aww, come on, Moxxie!" Me and ( Name ) had been waiting for the perfect moment to try this out, and now we got the opportunity. Come on, let's just try it at least once. "

Moxxie sighs, rubbing the side of his face. He had been thinking about it. He sighs, " Alright... I'll do it. "

" Oh my goodness, yes! Thank you, Moxxie!~ " Millie gives a small kiss to Moxxie's cheek, causing the white-haired Imp to blush slightly. You give the imp couple both a kiss on the cheek before going back to the work that Loona forgot to do.

The challenge wasn't that hard for Moxxie.. well, until his boss started to make lewd comments around him, trying to make him slip up.

Millie teased him a bit, but not that much. She would always whisper what she was going to do to him once the day was done, and it was driving him insane.

" Damn, Moxxie. Is that a boner or are you happy to see me? "

Moxxie looks down at his crotch to see that he was getting a boner from just the thought of his wives. He quickly gets up and bolts into the bathroom, hearing Blitzo burst out into laughter.

While you on the other hand, would sometimes walk past him, letting your tail brush against his leg, and sometimes, letting your hand trail down his inner thigh, making the poor imp flustered as hell.

You would also tell him what you and Millie are going to do to him, which would only make his erection more visible. Moxxie is able to keep his composure and beat the challenge. Millie was quick to take you and Moxxie to bed.

When she finally got her hands on him, she had him pinned against the wall, giving him a few hickeys here and there. She takes him to bed and strips him, and the both of you begin to pleasure him.

Millie explained to him that he was going to get a huge reward for being such a good boy. Moxxie, who currently had a hard-on and was horny as hell, wanted his 'reward' as soon as possible. Seeing the two of you with two large strap-ons really does something to him.

" Fuck.. Please, I want to feel the two of you inside of me. Please, let me have my reward. "

ꜱᴛʀɪᴋᴇʀ

Asking Striker about participating in N.N.N was easy enough. He seemed a little confused by its concept at first but quickly agreed to do it. He even teased you a bit, never expecting you to suggest something so lewd and scandalous

" You want me to not get off to nothin' for a whole month? " He asked you, " Ya know what that means, right? That means you won't be allowed to get me off neither. " Striker has a grin of his face as he saw your face heat up with embarrassment.

" Well yeah, I guess... Sure.. " You grumble before going back to what you were doing. Striker knew that you were going to tap out long before he would. This was going to be fun... for him at least.

The challenge was easy for him. All he had to do was bury himself in a fuck-ton of work, assassinating, and not let his mind wander off. If it did, he'd just think about his job and nothing else.

You, on the other hand, weren't fairing too well. You weren't used to having to deny yourself from your lovers' touch. So when Striker would brush against you or give you a kiss, it made you hot and bothered. You missed him.

Even though he was there with you every day, he was working his ass off to avoid getting aroused. And he did a pretty good job of it. You, on the other hand, didn't. You had no idea how you were going to last a whole month without sex.

As sad as it sounded, you did your best to pleasure yourself without him catching you. When he would go off to work you'd sneak away into the bedroom and fuck yourself with the dildos he gave you. You even got the one with his cum still on it, you were that desperate.

He noticed you acting more needy lately. Striker wasn't stupid. He knew what you were doing while he was gone. He wanted to catch you in the act.

His schedule was empty, so instead, he was going to sit back and let you do the work. You were already in your shared bedroom, laying on the bed.

Striker had come into the room to see you with your legs spread wide and a dildo shoved inside of you. You didn't even realize that he was in the room, too lost in your lust. The loud sequencing noise echoes and merges with your soft moans.

" Well, well. What do we have here?" He smirked, " I wonder where this came from? " Striker chuckled as he made his way over to you, causing you to jolt up in surprise. Before you could even cover yourself up, Striker had pounced on top of you and pinned you down onto the bed.

" Couldn't wait a month without me having a bit of fun?" Striker cooed as his tail snaked its way over to your discarded sex toy, " Maybe I should punish you for breaking our little deal. " He chuckled, pulling the toy from out of you.

" You'll like that, won't ya? "

[lackadaisycats]

I tried to answer this succinctly, but it turned into an essay. (Sorry.)

The Princess and the Frog was not accurate, strictly speaking, but dinging it for that would be like criticizing the Lion King for not being a realistic wildlife documentary. Accuracy wasn't really the point. Given the fantastical elements and fictional nations like “Maldonia”, I suppose we're meant to understand this as a bit removed from the real New Orleans. It's more a a jazz-flavored fairy tale than a historical fiction.

But for discussion's sake....

Is it fashion-accurate to its 1926 timeframe? Ehhh, sort of. It pays homage to 20s fashion trends with cloche hats, furs and feathery headpieces, but without fully committing to it. The waistline on almost all of Tiana's clothing is too high for the 20s, and the the shapes of her fancier costumes take a lot of liberties, or deviate wildly from the style of the period.

In the 20s, dresses (including workaday stuff) tended to have a straight up-and-down shape to it - kind of a low-waisted rectangle that de-emphasized curves instead of highlighting them. There are valid reasons to play fast and loose with that, though (something I’m definitely guilty of as well). One of those reasons is communication. 

For instance, speculatively, the filmmakers wrote Tiana as a hard-working waitress and wanted her to look the part, so they made the choice to clothe her in something familiar - that gingham dress of mid-century shape that we broadly associate with diner waitresses. Actual waitress uniforms of the 20s had a fair bit of overlap with maid uniforms at the time too, and I can see why they wouldn't want to risk the confusion. It's more important to communicate clearly with the larger audience than to appease a small faction of fashion nerds who'd notice or care about the precision.

I don't think it's a case of the designers failing to do their research - I'm sure they had piles of references, and maybe even consultants - but they also had to have priorities.

With her hat and coat on, she looks a lot more 1920s-shaped.

Pretty consistently, the indication of the characteristic 1920s drop waist is there, but the approach otherwise ignores the 20s silhouette. The clothes hug the body too much. This may be about appealing to a 2000s audience, visually speaking, but also could be an animation thing. Maybe both. For practical reasons, clothes in 2d animation are usually more a sort of second skin than something that wears or behaves like realistic fabric.

These are not in the 1920s ballpark at all. Tiana's blue gown looks like your basic Disney brand invention. Strapless things would have been extremely unusual and the overall shape is far out of step. Excusable, I guess, because it's a costume in context. Charlotte looks like she’s heading for a mimosa brunch in a modern maxi dress.

Charlotte's princess dress did seem to be calling back to the ultra-wide pannier side hoops of the 18th century - something that made a reappearance for part of the 20s, albeit in much milder form called robe de style. I'm not sure if the filmmakers were alluding to that at all, really, but either way, her dress is hilarious.

They only went about halfway with the cloche hats. The 1920s cloche really encapsulated the cranium, almost entirely covered bobbed hair, and obscured much of the face from certain angles, so it's easy to see why they've been somewhat reined in for the film. Still, it ends up looking more 1930s, where the hats started to recede away from the face, evolving in the direction of the pillbox.

Similarly, Tiana's hair is not very reminiscent of the bobbed, close-to-the-cranium style of the period, but I think that could legitimately be written off as characterization. She's not at all the type of person who'd fuss about going à la mode. Not everyone bobbed and finger-waved their hair.

The clothes Prince Naveen is introduced in are very 1920s collegiate in spirit - the wide-leg oxford bags, the sleeveless pullover sweater, the flat cap, and high, stiff collar. The ukulele and banjolele were pretty trendy instruments at the time too.

Definitely some Josephine Baker vibes here. Also, the look of this whole fantasy sequence was reportedly inspired by the works of Aaron Douglas, a luminary painter of the Harlem Renaissance known for his depictions of the lives of African-Americans. (The mural is in Topeka, Kansas.)

They pretty much nailed the Art Deco. It's gorgeous. Looks somewhat inspired by the interiors of some of the Ralph Walker-designed NYC architecture, plus some French Quarter balcony flair for the final manifestation of Tiana's Place. Her dress here does resemble some gauzy mid-1920s looks, too.

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

Culturally speaking...

New Orleans is an unusual place. Because some of the colonial Spanish and French laws and conventions that New Orleans evolved under persisted even after its inception into the United States; because it was such a heterogeneous hub of indigenous and immigrant peoples; and because it had a considerable population of free people of color (mostly Creole), it did not function quite like the rest of the South leading up to the Civil War, nor for a while after. Its particular coalescence of cultures made it its own unique sort of culture within the country, within the region, within the state of Louisiana even. By the early 20th century, though, regardless of the not-very-binary nature of New Orleans, Jim Crow laws were enforcing a literal black-and-white distinction, and not an evenhanded one, by far. In that aspect, the city had begun to resemble the rest of the South.

The film nods at the wealth disparity, but goes on to paint a pretty rosy picture of race and class relations at the time. Still it's not unbelievable that some people were exceptions to the rules. You could probably find a few compartments of old New Orleans society that resisted segregation or certain prejudicial norms, preferring to do things their own way. That aside, the film wasn't trying to confront these topics. Not every piece of media should have to. Sometimes breaking away from miserable period piece stereotypes is refreshing. I'm not sure it could have handled that meaningfully given the running time, narrow story focus, and intended audience, anyhow. (But you could perhaps also make a case that family films habitually underestimate younger audiences in this way.)

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

Raymond the firefly I guess is the film's Cajun representation. There's not much to say about it, except perhaps to note that Evangeline is a reference to the heroine of a Longfellow poem of the same name. The poem is an epic romance set during the expulsion of the Acadians from the eastern provinces of Canada and the northernmost reaches of the American colonies (now Maine) by the British in the mid-1700s. Many exiled Acadians gradually migrated south to francophone-friendly Louisiana, settling into the prairies and bayous, where 'Acadian' truncated into the pronunciation 'Cajun'. Evangeline - who is only finally reunited with her love when he’s on his deathbed - has become an emblem of the heartbreak, separation and faithful hope of that cultural history, and there are parishes, statues and other landmarks named after the her throughout Louisiana.

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

Voodoo does have a very historical presence in New Orleans, having arrived both directly from West Africa and by way of the Haitian diaspora (where it would more properly be called Vodou). While I don't think Disney's treatment of it was especially sensitive or serious, it also wasn't the grotesquely off-base sort of thing that media of the past has been known to do. It was largely whittled down to a magical plot component, but it wasn't so fully repurposed that it didn't resemble Voodoo at all either - and that's mostly owing to the characters, because it does appear the writers pulled from history there.

It’s apparently widely held that Dr. Facilier is a Baron Samedi caricature - and likely that's true, in part - but I have the impression he's also influenced by Doctor John. Not the 20th century funk musician, but the antebellum “Voodoo King” of New Orleans. Doctor John (also called Bayou John, Jean La Ficelle, and other aliases) claimed to be a Senegalese prince. He became well known as a potion man and romance-focused prognosticator to people from all corners of society. Though highly celebrated and financially successful at his peak, he seems ultimately remembered as an exploitative villain.

To my recollection, the film sort of gingerly avoids referring to Facilier as a Voodoo practitioner directly (I think he's more generically called a witch doctor in the script?) but it does seem to imply his 'friends on the other side' are a consortium of loa. It's mostly abbreviated into nebulously evil-seeming special FX, glazing over any specificity or dimensionality, but it does also loop back around as a vehicle of moral justice. Loa are all very individualistic and multi-faceted, but they do have reciprocal rules for asking favors of them.

There's also the benevolent counterpart in Mama Odie's character. Her wearing ritual whites has a definite basis in Voodoo/Vodou practice, and her depiction as a fairy godmother-like figure isn't entirely out of step with how a mambo may have been perceived...in a very general sense. They were/are ceremonial leaders and community bastions who people would seek out for help, advice and spiritual guidance. More than just emanating matronly good vibes, though, some have wielded considerable political and economic power.

(Just my opinions here. I've done a lot of reading on the subject for research but I'm no authority with any special insider understanding of Voodoo, and I really shouldn't be relied upon as an arbiter of who has or hasn't done it justice in fiction.)

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

In summary--

Culturally, I think the film is respectably informed but paints a superficially genteel picture. The set pieces are gorgeous, but the story mostly delivers a sort of veneer of New Orleanishness. And as for fashion, well, it’s the 1920s run through a Disney filter. It’s very pretty, but it’s only as proximally accurate as seemed practical.

I don’t know that any of that really matters so much as whether or not it achieved what it intended, though. As a charming yarn and as a tribute to New Orleans and the Jazz age, I think it’s mostly successful. It’s also really beautifully animated!

[wordstome]

könig as the nutcracker 🥹🥹

you just brought some terrible sleeping beast out of me, anon.

nutcracker prince König x fem reader (mostly gender neutral but you're wearing a dressing gown)

tw: mouse murder???

He's a very odd looking nutcracker, all things considered, but you can't take your eyes off of him.

"If it's a nutcracker why does it have that stupid veil over its face?" Your brother asks, noisily crunching candies between his molars. You glare at him, both for the rude remark and for chewing with his mouth open.

"This is a special one," your aunt gushes. "He's based off of a legendary soldier who never showed his face on the battlefield. One of a kind, from a specialty toy shop.”

"How interesting..." You muse, gently rubbing the fabric of the veil between your fingers. It's sturdy fabric, but still soft to the touch.

"He was probably ugly as hell," your brother declares. You swat him, and he only cackles and gets up to graze at some more sweets.

"Maybe you should try covering that ugly mug up once in a while," you call after him. He pelts you with a walnut shell.

Your aunt shakes her head fondly. "This one's not just decorative," she says. "He's a real nutcracker by Steinbach."

You look at her, wide-eyed. "So he can crack nuts?"

She nods and tosses you a hazelnut. "Try it."

You lift the wooden man's veil a little to put the hazelnut in his mouth. You could just pull the whole thing up and out of the way, but that feels almost...forbidden? You're not sure why you feel this way—he's just a piece of wood, after all, and he probably doesn't even have anything painted on underneath the veil other than those vibrant blue eyes. But even so, you're hesitant to unmask him.

Cracking the nut works like a charm, though, and some childish excitement bubbles up inside you as the remnants of the cracked hazelnut spill into your palm. "That's incredible!" you gush, running your thumb over the nutcracker's lacquered uniform.

"What do you mean incredible, that's what nutcrackers are for." Your brother returns, a few walnuts rolling around in his palm. He holds his other hand out. "Give him here."

"No. You called him ugly, so he's mad at you," you say, teasing him by holding the nutcracker out of his reach.

Your brother rolls his eyes. "Give it here, you little shit."

"Crack your own nuts," you shoot back. "This is my nutcracker."

He makes another grab for it, and this time he manages to grab the nutcracker's arm. It's only a lighthearted tussle between siblings as you shove at your brother and he refuses to let go of the nutcracker's arm—until it's not.

A terrible snapping of breaking wood causes you to gasp. The two of you stumble away from each other from the force, your brother holding a tiny wooden arm in his hand. He's just pulled it clean off. On closer inspection, your idiot brother has somehow managed to Hulk-rip the arm piece off of the piece that fits inside the socket. "This is a brand new nutcracker, how did you fuck it up?!" you cry.

"Hey, you should have—" Your brother takes one look at your expression and decides not to give you a hard time. "Look, I'm sorry. I was too rough on it. Sit tight for a second." You sit there, numbly staring at the pieces of your poor nutcracker. Really, it's your fault too—why didn't you just let him have the damn thing?

And why is this upsetting you so much? The nutcracker's just a decoration, albeit one with a little more function than most. You feel a sort of attraction to this little wooden man in your hand, though. Maybe it's because his unique design is interesting, or maybe it's because you're intrigued by the idea of a masked soldier who never shows his face. Either way, he was your gift anyway, so it's not that unusual that you're attached to him...right?

"Here, let me see him." Your brother's back, but to your horror, he's holding a pair of needle-nose pliers. "Absolutely not," you respond, jumping up from where you were sitting on the floor. "You are not getting anywhere near my nutcracker with those things. You're just going to fuck it up even more."

"It'll be fiiine," he insists, clicking the pliers open and closed like some maniacal toy surgeon. You're not sure you like the devious glint in his eye. Your brother's a nice guy for the most part, but sometimes he gets this look in his eye that you imagine Dr Frankenstein must have had when he was assembling his creation.

You hold the nutcracker and his detached arm protectively to your chest. "I'll figure out how to fix him in the morning with glue or something," you insist. "I don't need you poking around with pliers and splintering the wood."

"Are you sure? I am sorry, for what it's worth."

You wave him off. You're still kind of mad at him, but you're both adults. You'll live. "Don't worry about it. I think I'm going to head to bed soon, anyway."

"You should keep his arm with him, dear," you aunt pipes up. She had gone into the kitchen during the whole ordeal, but had probably heard everything go down. "Tape it to his side or something. You wouldn't want to lose it."

That's a good idea, you muse, examining your poor amputated nutcracker. You're just about to take her suggestion when you get an idea.

Your brother checks in with you later, right before he goes to bed as well. "You can't be serious," he says. "You made him an arm sling?"

You tie the knot on the little scrap of cloth around the little wooden man's arm nice and snug. "Oh, I'm dead serious," you say. "Doesn't he look cute?"

Your brother lets out a resigned sigh. "Yeah. Sure."

The rest of the evening is relatively uneventful. You put the nutcracker in your room, right on top of the dresser, while you go about your bedtime routine. It always brings you a bit of joy to walk out of the bathroom and see him there, standing tall and proud.

Well, your evening would have been uneventful...had you not bolted awake in bed an hour or two later.

You're groggy and confused, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, when you hear the cacophony of noise. It sounds like footsteps, dozens upon dozens of them, stampeding through your walls. And then the mice show up.

They crawl up from the corners and the floorboards, swarming across your room. You're too terrified to move or even scream out, sure that you must be having some terrible nightmare or hallucination.

And then your nutcracker moves.

You're absolutely positive now that you must be dreaming, watching frozen from your bed as your nutcracker leaps down from your dresser as if he's a living, breathing man and beginning to fight the mice. And he's even...talking?

"Finally, some worthy adversaries!" you hear him cry. You gape at this bloodthirsty little soldier as he beats through mouse after mouse with his tiny sword.

It's an impossible battle, you think. There's no way he can take all those mice alone, and with one injured arm aside...you're usually pretty squeamish when it comes to dubious little animals, but you can't just leave your nutcracker to be overwhelmed. Besides, this is all a dream, so nothing matters, right?

There's one mouse, larger than the others, who's at the back of the pack, squeaking as if giving orders. You're having quite a wild dream, honestly, because the mouse is even wearing a little crown. Like a king, you think with some amusement. You reach over the edge of your bed to pick the mouse up by the scruff.

You're not quite sure what happens next. One moment, the mouse is chattering angrily at you, the next you're on the floor. At first you think you've simply lost your balance and fallen onto the floor, but when you scramble to your feet, you nearly fall over again as you take in your surroundings.

You've shrunk.

Your bedroom is cavernous above your head, your bedposts and furniture as tall as skyscrapers. And worse still, the mice are huge too: the once palm-sized mouse king is now as large as you are, sneering down at you from his snout. You didn't even know mice could sneer.

You yelp and throw yourself to the side to dodge one of the mice lunging at you. "It's time to wake up," you mutter to yourself through clenched teeth. "It would be really really nice to wake up right about now...!"

The mice are unrelenting, a vicious gleam in their eyes as they nip at your heels. They manage to corner you against a piece of furniture, snapping their jaws menacingly. All you can think to do is pray as they draw ever closer, their breath hot as they crowd around you—

A sword neatly lops off the head of one of the mice in front of you.

You gasp and look upwards to see your nutcracker looming above you, his sword gleaming in the low light of your bedroom. He's incredibly menacing at this size, his veil becoming intimidating rather than charming. You're far smaller than him now—if he had been a normal sized man, he would have easily cleared six feet. His eyes are vibrant and intense, staring down at you for a brief moment before they turn back towards his enemy.

You sit there, stock-still in awe as you watch him mow through his adversaries. It takes you a moment to realize you probably shouldn't be hanging around and gawping. Good thing, too, because your knight in shining lacquer is too distracted to notice he's being snuck up on. The larger mouse is creeping up behind him, a wicked glint in its eye.

"No!" you cry. Thinking fast, you pull off your slipper and chuck it at the mouse's head, stunning it. I can't believe that actually worked, you think.

You have to give your nutcracker some credit, his reflexes are wicked-sharp. In a single heartbeat, he's run the mouse king through with his sword. He cuts an imposing figure, his eyes sharp and deadly. But there's a sort of glee in them as well, the kind of thing that should make you uneasy.

It doesn't.

The rest of the mice, seeing their leader fallen, beat a hasty retreat, tugging the corpses of their fallen comrades along with them. You watch them, fascinated, until all that remains of the bloody conflict are a few tiny pools of blood streaked along your floorboards.

"I must thank you," comes the voice of your nutcracker. You look at him, unsure of what to say. You're welcome for throwing a shoe at a giant mouse to keep it from killing you?

"I...of course," is what eventually comes out. You smooth out your dressing gown in a futile effort to look presentable. "I couldn't let him hurt you."

The nutcracker tilts his head curiously. "You don't know me."

"Of course I do. You're my nutcracker," you say, instantly feeling silly once the words leave your mouth. You just received him as a gift, and you only just found out he was sentient anyway. You don't know why you feel so protective...

He shifts his injured arm, the sling still in place. "You bound my arm, as well."

You flush with embarrassment. "I-it was the least I could do," you stammer. "I shouldn't have let my brother do that. Really, it was my own fault—" Your words die in your throat as the nutcracker moves in close to you, so close that you can feel his body heat. Since when did he have body heat?

"Pretty," he murmurs under his breath. You stare at him, dumbfounded. Is your nutcracker...hitting on you?

Suddenly, you snap back to your senses. "Oh my God," you exclaim, staring down at yourself and then back towards your surroundings. "I'm still small. And I haven't woken up yet. Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. Please tell me I'm dreaming." You pinch your skin, letting out a small exclamation when it hurts. But you still don't wake up.

"Hmm...you won't solve your predicament that easily, little one," the nutcracker muses.

"Wha—do you know how to fix this?"

"I have a hunch," he responds, brow furrowing. You hadn't noticed eyebrows on him when you were examining him earlier in the evening, you note.

"Do tell."

"You've had a curse placed on you, but I don't know how to break it. I do, however, know someone who might know how."

"Well then take me to them!" You stare at him beseechingly. You watch as several indecipherable emotions run through his eyes, then he nods.

You visibly relax. "Thank you."

"You'll have to trust me. You may find the whole process a little...fantastical."

"More fantastical than my nutcracker coming to life and fighting an army of mice on my bedroom floor?" you ask, cocking an eyebrow. His eyes crinkle in a way that must mean he's smiling.

"More fantastical than that," he says. He offers you a hand like a true gentleman, and to your shock, it feels like flesh, not wood. His grip is firm but soothing, his hand so huge it dwarfs your own.

"Let's do this, then."

uhhhhhhh wow this got kinda long I had to cut it short. I'll probably write a part 2? But it's gotta wait because I've got a gazillion other things to write first :P Thank you for the inspiration, anon! 🥺

[rustedhearts]

Raise Hell (Nascar!Steve x fem!reader)

summary: nascar driver steve harrington is a hot mess. literally. but when he keeps coming into your diner, staggeringly drunk and adorable, you can’t help but grow fond of him.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

hot wheels masterlist main masterlist

tags: nascar!steve, reader is referred to as ‘bunny,’ just fluff and flirting.

author’s note: i don’t know much about the mechanics of nascar because i’m more of a formula one fan, so some of the racing terms/descriptions might seem a bit more f1. sorry!

raise hell, praise…harrington?

talladega, alabama, summer 1995

In Talladega, a girl’s got two things to be: a country beauty queen, or stuck at her high school job. Stupid or stuck. You were stuck—specifically, stuck balancing trays of sweet teas and cokes, and burning your palms on the underside of steaming hot burgers and flapjacks. Stuck in the same stupid powder blue uniform and frilly lace apron you’d been swearing since you were seventeen. Sometimes, you started to wonder if you were no longer stuck—just plain stupid.

But two years ago, Nascar saw a new face on the tracks: one Steve Harrington. Donned ‘Pretty Boy’ for his princely good looks and boyish charm, he burned rubber like nobody’s business, and Alabama’s been in an uproar ever since. You normally didn’t welcome midwestern men with such open and loving arms in a place like this, but as the folks say: he’s one of us, honey.

And one of you he became. He even had the slight slur of a southern twang to prove it, and you came to hear it firsthand when he sat at the end of your counter one night last October, bleary-eyed and pink-cheeked.

“What can I get you, Hot Wheels?” You hadn’t meant for the name to slip, but once it was out there, you couldn’t take it back.

Luckily, Steve just laughed. Slumped on his palm, draped over the counter full of old crumbs and sticky syrup, he pointed toward a laminated menu beside him.

“You guys sell fries?”

You gave him a basket of hot, golden french fries fresh out of the fryer, salted to perfection by yours truly. When Steve saw them sitting in front of him, practically overflowing in their red plastic, newspaper-lined confines, his eyes got huge. He devoured the basket in five minutes flat. You turned your back to clean the coffee pot, and when you went to check on him, offer a glass of water to rouse him from drunken stupor, he was gone.

Sitting in his empty, grease-splattered basket were two hundred dollar bills. It’s still the largest tip you’ve ever gotten on such a small bill to date (or…on any bill).

When Steve Harrington stopped by the diner, you went home with a thicker wallet, a swollen heart, and a burning blush on your face.

You always heard his arrival before you saw his face. The smooth, low grumble of his Ferrari engine. His headlights blared through the blinds on the diner windows, whipping with effortless expertise into the front spot near the door. The headlights cut off, and moments later the door chimed as his lean figure stumbled through.

Designer sneakers scuffing the floor, black leather racing jacket with endorsement patches ironed on neat gleaming beneath the white fluorescents of the diner. He smelled like gasoline and boozy cologne—or maybe that was just the booze. Steve's favorite bar was just up the road: a swanky wood-paneled joint with a mechanical bull, and girls just out of college in skimpy denim shorts and leather cowboy boots. He always left with pink-tinged cheeks and a sway in his step, and though you disapproved of getting behind the wheel under the influence, you didn't mind that he raced all the way here just to get to you.

Tonight, like every night, he strode straight toward the counter and took his seat on a squeaky metal stool at the end.

He patted the counter, shot a finger gun at you, and smiled a half-cocked grin. "Hey, pretty girl."

Cheeks blazing, you rolled your eyes as you collected the coffee pot—freshly brewed just for him—and his basket of sizzling, golden fries. You placed the fries in front of him and flipped over a porcelain mug, pouring a steady stream until it pooled around the rim. No room for cream or sugar: how Steve liked it best. He was already five fries in by the time you placed the coffee pot back.

"Hey, Hot Wheels. Catch anythin' good tonight?"

Elbows pressed against the counter, you leaned over the stack of sticky menus and extra ketchup bottles to flash him your sweetest smile. You always laid it on real thick for guys like him. None of 'em tipped like Steve did, and none of 'em were nearly as handsome. None of 'em made you laugh like Steve did. Jesus, how stupid was that?

"Nothin' worth bringin' home, Bun," Steve sighed, head falling to his palm as his fingers made quick work of delivering fries straight to his mouth.

"Better luck next time." You shrugged, though you knew what this game was.

"No," Steve mused, eyes narrowed with a twinkle of mockery, lips coated in shiny grease and flecks of salt. "No, I don't think so. Know who I'd love to take out, though?"

You pulled away from the counter, that familiar flutter in your chest. You reached for the damp rag previously soaked in lemon sanitizing spray, wiping at the crumbs behind the counter. Steve always came in right when you were closing up. The first time he stumbled in, you threatened to kick him out, but something about those stupid puppy dog eyes and that sly, halfway smile made you stop. You always agreed to close on weekends, just to stay back and clean up after the strays and Steve Harrington. The diner was quiet, only the buzz of old lights and the distant whoosh of cars on the road keeping you company until he appeared.

"Who?" you asked, eyes flicking his way as he munched on his fries. The newspaper in his basket crinkled with his eager snatching.

Steve lifted his head, movements slow and bleary, and in your periphery, you could see it follow your every motion. His jacket made his shoulders look broad and big. You could smell the cigarette remnants still on his hands when you moved in front of him again.

"Come on, Bun," he huffed, that poor, sweet attempt at an Alabama drawl clinging to every word. The way he said your given nickname made your heart squeeze.

"Come on, what?" You flashed him a smile, pursed lips and scrunched nose, and he shook his head amusedly at it. He thought you were so beautiful, even in this ridiculous 1950s getup, hair frazzled and face gleaming with heat.

"When are you gonna let me take you out, sweetheart?" he pouted, hand bumping his empty, grease-stained basket when he dropped it to the counter.

Though your insides were stirring and the back of your neck felt like someone was giving it a pinch, you spun on your heel and reached for the coffee pot again, feigning an air of cool ease. You never wanted a man to have the upper hand on you, no matter how pretty that man might be. Your daddy taught you better than that.

Pressing close to the counter, you held the pot midway in the air, hovering, and caught Steve's eye. His were all whiskey brown and muddy green, more hazel than anything. It was only at this moment that you heard the Willie Nelson song humming on the jukebox in the corner. His lips parted when your eyes narrowed, catlike and dreamily charming.

You inched closer, leaning in like you were fixing to whisper a secret. "When you come in sober, Mr. Harrington."

You topped off his untouched coffee, placed the pot back, and sashayed toward the tables to wipe them down (for the second time tonight). Behind you at the counter, Steve gnawed on his lip, head tipping to admire the backs of your thighs where they caught the plump flesh of your ass beneath your shorts. He scoffed to himself, snatching the mug thrumming with heat, slurping at the potent black liquid.

If sober was what you wanted, sober you would get.

♡ ♡

Nascar was always on channel two, and when your manager Rod was working, he insisted on playing it on the tiny television behind the counter. He paced between the office in the sticky kitchen and the space behind the counter, munching on peanuts and sipping a jumbo Pepsi from the morning.

"Rod, maybe you should have somethin' else to eat." You whooshed a platter of burgers and fries over his head as you rushed toward your table.

"Nah, I'm waitin' for that-that Harrin'ton kid to come on," he excused, motioning toward the tv with a salted peanut palm.

You bit back a grin, sliding the plates onto the table for your eager customers. Wiping your hands on your apron, you headed back to the counter and leaned on the other side.

"What, excited to watch his engine crap out again?” you teased, giggling at Rod’s offended expression before flouncing off toward the kitchen for your break.

“That kid might not be from here, but he’s one of us now, Bunny!” Rod called after you, accent thick and slurred loose.

You waved a hand, eyes rolling. “Why d’ you think I give him such a hard time, Rod?”

You heard his hoarse chuckle as you hopped up on the empty steel tabletop in the kitchen, snatching a soggy fry from a half-empty basket. The cooks all murmured about a table that sent back a burger (there’s always one), and asked you about your shift today. The occasional ‘how are the kids,’ and ‘your garden holding up well in this heat?’ ensued, but most of them knew that when you had a moment to yourself back here, you preferred it in silence.

Billy, a line cook a few years older than yourself, whizzed by with a greasy silver spatula and a plate of perfect, crispy grilled cheese. He slipped it onto your lap as he passed, eye dropping in a wink, before he returned to the grill. You grinned in thanks, picking up the warm, shiny sandwich.

You were halfway through the first triangular slice when a holler jolted you on the table. You dropped the slice, rushing to place the plate on the table and skitter into the dining room again. Head whipping around, you searched for some sort of disaster—a hurt child, a choking customer—and found Rod screaming at the television, red-faced and glistening with sweat.

Huffing, you collapsed against the counter. “Rod, what the hell?”

Rod didn’t tear his eyes away from the television as he smacked his hands together. “Aw, come on! His car’s crappin’ out, he’s gon’ have t’ leave the race.”

You shifted toward the television, preparing to scoff at the urgency of Rod’s statement when sparks skidded over the track on the screen. Even in their pixelated form, the sparks were bright and sharp as a firework on independence day. You watched the cherry red car bounce, jostling the driver inside—clear cause for a biting backache. The car veered left, then right, then toward the off track where Steve stopped it.

Rod cursed, slapping his knee and shaking his head.

“Got-damnit,” he shrilled, easing up from the stool. “When’re they gonna put ‘im in a car that actually drives?”

Rolling your eyes and attempting to ignore the ball of worry the size of Texas aching in your chest, you slid away from the counter and headed back toward the kitchen where your food waited.

“When are you gonna get t’ work, Rod?”

“Eh.”

♡ ♡

That night, you soaked the linoleum in lemon cleaner and scrubbed at the vinyl booths, lights dimmed to keep customer count low until you actually closed. Rod left a few hours ago, and only a handful of cooks lingered in the back, shooting the shit and sharing smokes. You liked having the dining room to yourself while you closed up, humming along the radio and watching the road through the windows. You fantasized about a life with enough money to never wipe a table again.

Given the day he had on the track, the last person you expected to see that night was Steve Harrington. So when the door chimed open and shoes squeaked across the freshly-cleaned tile, you whirled around with a customer-approved smile in preparation for a sweet but curt “we’re about to close.” However, the customer service facade dimmed at the sight of that familiar pretty face and those colorful ironed-on insignias.

“Hey, Bun.” He sounded breathless and beat.

"Hey," you squeaked, dumbfounded by the sight of him.

The outline of his helmet still sat on his face: aggravated red lines indented around his eyes, across his cheeks and nose. His hands, Ferrari-red and raw, trembled as they swept through his tousled hair. "Mind if I sit, Bun? Long day."

Which is how he ended up slumped in a clean booth, head of slick locks thumped against the glass. It felt odd to see him in an actual seat instead of his usual at the bar, but he needed the rest. You could only imagine the sort of strain a car going 200 miles an hour while jerking around had on someone.

You slipped into the kitchen, and with a meek and quiet plead, had the cooks make one last batch of fries fresh for Steve before they left. Just enough for the driver to get his strength back up and feel at home again. The fried pile of grease glistened and sizzled in their plastic confinement on the way out of the kitchen, a cold glass of Pepsi fizzing in your other hand.

You brought them to the man still drooped in the furthest booth, head tipping to find his eyes. "Steve?"

"Hmm?" Blearily, the racer sat upright and blinked at you.

Flashing him a fond smile, you pushed the basket of fries closer to him. "Food."

"Oh."

He munched on the crispy golden potatoes for a while in silence. The back door clinked with the absence of cooks. You thought about getting up to flip the sign over to 'sorry we're closed!' but you couldn't find it in yourself to leave the table. Eventually, you slid into the booth across from him and watched him eat. He sucked down the Pepsi through a striped straw like a toddler gulping apple juice.

"Why did you come here tonight? I mean...you're in no shape, Hot Wheels," you remarked, watching him rub his fingers free of salt.

Steve's eyes flickered toward you below his brows, chin tipped toward his food. He straightened up when he saw you watching, giving his shoulders a shrug. He smelled like scorched rubber, gasoline, and a bit of bourbon-whisky.

"Had a shit day," he muttered, eyes returning to his fries with urgency. "Knew seein’ you would cheer me up."

A flutter disrupted the rhythm thumping in your chest. You felt it in your throat, too, settling like indigestion. You swallowed harshly to clear it away, easing the wonderment in your face with a little grin. Steve went back to finishing the thin strips of fry remnants sitting at the bottom of his basket.

Stripped free of liquored charm and that 'pretty boy' suave, Steve Harrington actually seemed...sweet.

"Hey, Hot Wheels?"

Steve looked up, lips glassy with grease. "Yeah?"

"You can take me on that date now."

♡ ♡

[moonsgemini]

dress - rafe cameron

summary: she’ll always wish she could enjoy the midsummer’s celebrations instead of working at it, but her secret moments with the kook prince make the bad tips worth it

warnings: rafe x pogue!reader, typical classist stuff but not from rafe, fluff, angst, mutual pining, alcohol, kissing

wc: 3.5k

an: this is based off of dress by taylor swift but my own interpretation of it I guess. If you guys want a pt. 2 with smut let me knoooow, I’m such a s!ut for rafe cameron pleaaaase

our secret moments in a crowded room, they got no idea about me and you

Midsummer was probably her least favorite day of summer. You’d think that being a bartender on the day that the whole figure eight came to the country club would bring in lots of tips right? Well wrong. During midsummer’s the drinks were complimentary and there was just a tip jar for cash tips. Kooks don’t usually carry around cash, or really tip for that matter. Also seeing all the kooks dressed in their pretty dresses and cute flower crowns made y/n go green with jealousy. She desperately wished she could attend as a guest and get to dress up and enjoy the food. Y/n would be dreading this shift if she didn’t have something to look forward to.

She had looked over herself in the mirror a million times, making sure her dress still looked as good on her as it did in the dressing room mirror yesterday. The tag was securely tucked into her side because she may have run up her credit card to be able to afford it so she had to return it after. Bartenders didn’t have as strict as a uniform as the waiters did. Her manager allowing them to wear black dresses for the night, and of course she was going to jump at the opportunity to wear something nicer than her boxy polo uniform and tennis skirt.

Her makeup and hair had been done to the best of her ability, without it seeming like she was trying too hard. Y/n would never admit to any of her friends or family that she was dressed up in order to impress a certain kook prince. The same kook prince she had spent months crushing on, and he never helped make the crush go away because he would shamelessly flirt with her every time he was at the country club. It was more like banter, she had a feeling he never really meant anything he said. But it felt so good to feel wanted.

When Rafe would see her around the outer banks he would smirk at her or give her a nod as to say hi. At parties sometimes he’d go up to her and make some small conversation. Teasing her about what drink she had or making sure that she didn’t give her number to that guy that was flirting with her. They’d be making conversation and she would take a step towards him wanting nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms and his scent. But then her friends would come and think they were saving her from the kook prince and pull her away, sending a glare Rafe’s way. She’s look back at him apologetically and he’d just give her a tight lipped smile and walk to the other side of the party.

Rafe really liked her, he liked making her laugh and smile. He wished he could make her quit her job and just come live with him, he’d take care of her. She’d never have to worry about bills or rent ever again. His friends always made fun of him for flirting with a pogue but he didn’t care. They’d say he was scraping the bottom of the barrel, that he had already gone through all the girls from figure eight so now he was entertaining a pogue. Rafe never let them get away with their jokes. He’d glare at them and punch them in the arm or kick them in the shin. He’d defend her honor saying she’s different and she’s a better friend than they’ll ever be.

All Rafe could do was think about her while he was getting ready. He knew she’d be there and he wanted to look extra nice. Tonight felt like the night he would actually ask her out. Y/n was a good listener, she was always there for him. At first he thought it was just because she was stuck behind the bar so she had to listen to him, but then he’d see her at parties and she still had that look in her eyes. That look that she was listening to him, actually listening to him. He felt like he was on a cloud with the way she looked at him like he was the most important thing in the world.

When she arrived to the country club she started getting all her things ready, the guests would start arriving in a few minutes. Stocking up on scotch and the best wines, she knew those would be the popular drinks tonight. As she worked diligently her mind wandered to Rafe, like it always did.

She wondered if he’d be the same as always despite his family being here. She wanted nothing more than to spend the night with him, but not while she served him drinks. She wanted to dance with him and drink with him, and then go home together at the end of the night.

Guests had started arriving, her eyes looking out for the dirty blonde. She was so excited and a bit anxious to see him all dressed up, knowing he’d look extra handsome. An hour had passed and she still hadn’t seen him. The country club was now filled with kooks and her tip jar only filled with about $20 when she’s certain she’s made twenty martinis and poured just as many scotch’s.

As she was handing Mrs.Weatherby her glass of merlot smiling at the older woman her eyes caught her favorite blue ones. Rafe stood across the room with Kelce and Topper. He wasn’t paying any attention to what Topper was saying as he watching y/n from across the room. When their eyes met a lopsided smile formed on his lips. Her cheeks felt hot as he looked her up and down, as much as he could despite the bar being in the way.

Y/n begged with her eyes for him to come over, to save her from the boring night. He knew her better than she thought as he started walking over, saying something to the guys that he’d be back. But as he was crossing the room his dad stepped in front of him.

Ward put a hand on his son’s shoulder, “Rafe please, don’t start drinking yet. This is supposed to be a nice night okay? Lets take it slow.” He turned him around to walk out toward the patio.

“Yeah sure dad.” He muttered not wanting to make a scene. He followed him out but looked behind him to catch the eyes of the girl he was infatuated with.

His heart sank a little as he saw her bright eyes dull a little with sadness. She tried her best to put on a smile and not show her disappointment but he knew her better than she thought. Ward had no idea of Rafe’s crush and even if he did he probably wouldn’t care. He’d probably be disappointed in his son for liking someone like her, then he’d tell him that she probably only wants him for his trust.

all of this silence & patience, pining & anticipating, my hands are shaking from holding back from you

The first few hours of the night their eyes just met, hers pleading him to come over and talk to her. Give her something to think about tonight before she went to bed. His eyes begged her to forgive him for not giving her the attention she deserved, especially in that dress. He hoped that she wore it just for him, it made her look ethereal. Rafe’s legs ached from trying to stop himself from walking over and kissing her with everything he had.

As the night went on she was always on his mind. He hated this stupid midsummer’s stuff, mostly because he couldn’t share it with the one person he wanted. It was filled with snobby people and teenager’s getting drunk on booze they had snuck in.

Rafe kept getting stuck in conversations with his dad’s colleagues, Ward wanting him to be more involved in the business. Or he’d be with Topper, Kelce, and some other guys having a meaningless conversation about lacrosse or surfing. Whenever he got the chance he’d look over at her and she’d have a smile on her face handing some old dude a drink. He knew it wasn’t her real smile, then her eyes would look over at him and that’s when her real smile would come out.

“Uh I’m gonna get a drink,” Rafe said trying to excuse himself from his friends. His dad would be fine with him having a drink now, it’s been three hours since the night started. Three hours of his fingers tingling with the want of tucking that hair that kept falling in her face behind her ear.

“I’ll go with you dude. I need a refill,” Topper said holding up his empty glass. Rafe held in the urge to roll his eyes, he wanted to go alone.

y/n was wiping down the bar when they approached. She looked up meeting eyes with her favorite boy, but then she looked over to his left and their Topper was

“What can I get you guys?” She asked looking between them, smiling at Rafe.

“Long island,” Topper said placing his empty glass down.

“Can I get a rum and coke please?” Rafe asked, resting his hands on the bar.

“Of course,” she nodded with a grin.

Rafe watched her as she prepared the drinks. Topper was trying to talk to him about who knows what, he couldn’t care less. He couldn’t pay attention even if he wanted to with that dress she had on. It fit her so perfectly, he wondered what it’d feel like under his hands. What it’d feel like to push it up as he touched the expanse of her thighs. Wondered what it’d feel like to hold her waist as he kissed her. If her skin was as soft as it looked.

“Bro you’re not even listening,” Topped said as he hit Rafe’s shoulder.

“Long island,” Y/n places the drink in front of him.

“You’re right I’m not.” Rafe rolled his eyes.

Topper took his drink without even thanking her, “Whatever dude I’m gonna find Sarah.” Finally Rafe was alone with his girl.

She placed his glass in front of him, “So where have you been all night?”

“Uh my dad didn’t want me to drink earlier,” He shrugged. He knew it was a half assed excuse.

“You don’t need to order a drink to come see me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, “I-I know but my dad thought that I was just coming over for a drink.”

She laughed bitterly not at Rafe but at the whole situation, “When I’m with you I forget I’m a uh pogue.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” He reached out to touch her lightly. She leaned into his touch slightly, yearning to feel anything from him.

Her manager walked in, “Y/n, take your fifteen.” Taking over he place behind the bar, Rafe pulled his hand away from her.

“Uh yeah,” She gave him a tight lipped smile before walking to the back room. Rafe sighed and walked back out to where his friends were.

if I get burned at least we were electrified, I’m spilling wine in the bath tub you kiss my face & we’re both drunk

Y/n stood in the back leaning against the wall. She hated this town. She hated the labels everyone put on each other, it made her life so much harder. It was so easy when she was around Rafe even if it was a few minutes at a time. But then there was always something that reminded her of who she was and where she came from. It was either Ward, her friends, Rafe’s friends, her bosses. Someone always had to remind her where she was and who she was.

She rolled her eyes at herself. She walked into the back, in search of a bottle of wine. She found one she thought she’d like, popping it open and pouring herself a glass. Y/n felt like she deserved it, especially after tonight. The night wasn’t going exactly as planned, so she might as well drink.

After three full glasses of red wine her break was over. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to drink while on the clock because now everything looked a little fuzzy.

“I’m back,” She slurred to her manager.

Lisa eyed her suspiciously, “Are you drunk?”

“No never,” She gave her a toothy grin trying to hide her tipsiness. The alcohol affecting her more and more as the seconds passed.

Lisa sighed, “Y/n you can’t be like this here right now. You know how bad this would look. If you get one of these jerk offs orders wrong and they smell that merlot on your breath they’ll have you banned.” Lisa tried her best to look out for the girl because she knew she didn’t have anyone that was looking out for her.

Her eyes watered at the thought of losing the only job she had been able to get on this whole island, “I-I can’t lose this job. I need this.”

Lisa sighed, “Go home. I’ll cover for you, and you can still keep the tips okay? Only because I care about you.”

Y/n sniffled bringing the older woman into a hug, “Thank you Lisa, I owe you.”

“Get home safe okay, call someone.” Lisa said rubbing her back. She walked (stumbled a bit) to the back to grab her bag.

even in my worst times you could see the best of me

Y/n didn’t know who to call, her friends were all at parties probably drinking as well. Her parents weren’t in her life. The one person who could help her had been watching her from across the room. Concern written all over his face. She looked at him with teary eyes and he was already taking long strides towards her. She met him halfway, the tag from her dress itching her side.

“Rafe,” Her voice was shaky as she hugged herself looking for some comfort. She knew this was all her fault, she shouldn’t have had that wine. She felt like she was always making mistakes like this.

Rafe’s hands held her face, “What happened? Did someone do something?” He asked with worry and a bit of anger. If one of these kooks made his girl cry they’d have him to deal with.

“No no I did something. I-I drank some wine on my break. I’m drunk Rafe and Lisa told me to go home. She um she said she’ll let me keep the tips today but uh can you take me h-home?” She asked barely taking a breath.

He brushed her hair back, “Hey breathe, I’ll take you home okay baby.”

“I’m sorry Rafe, I-I shouldn’t take you away. I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. I’m glad I get to get away from this shit, especially if it’s with you.”

Ward had been watching the interaction from outside. He eyed as his son held the bar tender who he felt was trying to hard to look like she fit in with them, her dirty sneakers gave her away. In her defense you can’t really bartend in heels.

He walked over to them before they could leave, “Uh Rafe, what are you doing?” He didn’t spare a glance at the disheveled girl.

Rafe stood up straight, “I’m taking her home dad.”

“Who is this? The bartender? You can’t leave now. There’s still some guys I need to introduce you to.” He treated her like she was nothing.

“No dad I’m taking her home, this is more important.” Rafe wrapped his arm around her shoulders to lead her towards the exit.

Ward grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past him, “Don’t disappoint me son.”

He shrugged his shoulder to get him off, “You’ve made it clear plenty of times that it’s too late for that.”

They didn’t make a big scene but some people had been watching. They watched as the oldest Cameron led the girl outside, a pogue. Tomorrow word would spread all across the island just how cozy they were. Ward would berate Rafe about it but right now he didn’t care, he just wanted to get his girl away from everyone.

Y/n couldn’t believe Rafe had done that for her. He dropped everything for her, she really did feel like he was a prince.

only bought this dress so you could take it off

Rafe kept glancing over at her as he drove to her house. He was worried about her, she looked so sad and he hated seeing her sad. Her head was leaning agains the passenger window just looking out into the darkness.

“Sweetheart what’s wrong?” He finally asked breaking the silence.

She sighed looking over at him, “I feel like an idiot.”

“Why?”

“I put on this stupid dress that I can’t even afford and I got too drunk while I was working. I took you away from the party.” She shook her head at herself.

Rafe pulled into the driveway of her small house, her grandma had left it for her after she passed a few years ago. It was the perfect house for her but now she had to work overtime to keep up with bills.

“Lets talk once we get inside,” Rafe turned the car off and ran over to open her door.

They walked into her house, Rafe had never been there. This is the most time they’ve ever been able to spend alone, without anyone being able to interrupt them or pull them away from each other. He liked her house, it was very her. Warm lighting and pictures everywhere. She sat on the couch setting her bag onto the ground.

“You look amazing, this dress looks amazing on you.” He said as he sat next to her. She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I wore this for you. I wanted to impress you, instead I embarrassed myself.” She closed her eyes thinking about the events of the night.

Rafe turned to her, “I would drop everything for you. I have been dying inside to spend this night with you.”

“Really?” She asked looking at him with stars in her eyes.

“Yes, baby. And this dress does look amazing on you. You look perfect. I’ve wanted you since the first day we met at the club.” He tucked her hair behind her ear.

Her face flushed at the compliments, “But why? I’m just me. I don’t have anything, I can’t even afford this dress. I’m just a bartender.”

He shook his head, “None of that shit matters to me. You actually listen to me and you care about me more than my shithead friends ever have. I only go to those stupid parties to see you.”

“Rafe, I care about you so much.”

He couldn’t take it anymore, he leaned forward and captured her lips with his. They were slightly swollen from the few tears she had shed earlier in the night. Her lips tasted like merlot she had downed. They moved in sync as if they had been doing this forever. He smelt like expensive cologne and she wanted to drown in it, she wanted to drown in him. His lips felt so good against hers, she had been dreaming about this moment for ages.

Her hands slid up his chest and into his hair. Pulling at the dirty blonde locks to encourage him. Rafe’s hands slid up and down her waist. Finally feeling the dress he had thought about all night. As the kiss grew more passionate he grabbed her hips and tugged her towards him. He pulled her to sit on his lap, her legs on either side of him. His fingers slowly slid up her thighs pushing her dress farther up, almost fully around her hips. Y/n’s thighs were just as soft as he imagined. His mind was racing with thoughts of everything he wanted to do to her.

The small whines that left her lips encouraged him to keep going. One hand moving behind her to give her ass a squeeze. He pulled away to press kisses against her neck making goosebumps rise on her skin. Her hands moving back and forth from tugging his hair to pulling at his blazer to get him impossibly closer.

“Baby,” He mumbled against her neck. She just hummed in return, too lost in the feeling of his lips on her. Tasting her like she’s always wanted him to.

“I want to keep going, but I know you’ve drank tonight. I want you to be be a hundred percent sober when I do everything I’ve always dreamed about doing to you,” He said looking up at her. He almost regretted his words and took her right then and there when he saw her swollen lips and hazy lust filled eyes.

She took a deep breath to get herself to focus. Her senses were overloaded on Rafe, “Okay, can you stay? Please?”

He leaned forward giving her another kiss, “Of course, I’ll always stay.”

[lowkeyremi]

Haikyuu men as fathers pt 3.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Ft. Sakusa, Iwaizumi, Kageyama, and Osamu.

The age range of the kids will differ for each character but it’s from babies up til like 17 or 18 (also sometimes I model the parenting off of the way my parents were w me n my little sibs lol)

CW: Indication of pregnancy, relationships, marriage, certain styles of parenting,

Enjoy lovelies <33

………………..

Sakusa Kiyoomi:

The panic on his face is pure gold. “Babe… Babe she’s drooling on me!” You whip out your phone so fast. “Smile for the camera, Kiyo!”

He’s pouting, but you don’t really care. Not after you told him to grab her bib because she might drool. He insisted that ‘my little girl won’t drool on me.’ And now here he is panicking about it.

It’s not that he minded her saliva… it’s that he’s in uniform because he wanted to hold Kokomi before heading to work.

Your nine month old daughter is clapping her hands at her dad. You’re sure she finds this whole ordeal hilarious just like you do.

“Stop recording me and get the bib. It’s gonna get on my uniform.” He says with his eyebrows furrowed. “What happened to ‘oh she won’t drool on me’ I thought you didn’t need the bib.” You mock your boyfriend of three years.

He frowns and sets Kokomi onto the floor. “Go crawl to mommy, yeah?” She immediately starts crying and you knew this would happen. Your baby is most definitely a daddy’s girl.

“Kiyoomi, pick her back up. She wants her daddy.” He glares at your statement because you’re still mocking him. “This is not funny.” He states. Just as you were about to make a comeback Kokomi took the both of you by surprise.

She was crying and crawling over to Kiyoomi, “Da- DAA!” Both your eyes widen at the realization that’s she’s saying ‘da da.’ You open up your phone and press record. “Kiyo! Make her say it again.”

“I can’t just magically make her say it.” He says sarcastically and you roll your eyes. “That’s not what I mean! Start walking away I’m sure she’ll say it again.” Kiyoomi walks very slowly so she has time to catch up by crawling and sure enough she says it again, “DA DA.”

You stop the recording and clap your hands. “Good job, princess! That is da da!” Kiyoomi picks her up and wipes her tears with his hand.

“Don’t cry little one, da da’s right here.” He assures her and she claps again.

And for the next couple of weeks all Kiyoomi heard was “da da.”

Sure you were bummed she didn’t say “mama” first, but guess what? You aren’t the one who has to go help her when Kiyoomi’s around because all your little princess wants is her “da da”

He’s so sensitive abt her, for example he cries on her first birthday because “she’s growing so fast”

He teases you for being jealous of your daughter, but you can’t help it! She’s getting all his attention :( (he tends to you later <3)

He seems like the type of dad to sign his kid up for a bunch of sports/activities so he can try to find something for her to become good at

He has tea parties with her, she loves when you play the charming prince and kiyoomi plays the pretty princess 😂

OMG whenever she has nightmares he’ll follow her back to her room and sleep in her bed w her (you keep telling him he’s gonna break it lmfao)

Doesn’t let her date for a LONGGGGG time

He spoils her absolutely rotten

He cried tears of joy when he saw his little girl walking down the aisle being the cutest little flower girl at your guys’ wedding

SUCH A SOFT DAD, she’ll ask for something and you’ll give him that look so he’s like “N-no.” And she gives him those eyes and he’s like “baby, how I can say no to those eyes?!”

Iwaizumi Hajime:

“HIGHER DADDY, HIGHER!” Your seven year old daughter screams as Iwaizumi launches her into the air and catches her.

“Sato has to have his turn, pumpkin.” He sets his little girl down and comes over to you with grabby hands for his son.

“He’s one Haji, that might scare him.” You reason. He takes him anyway and you shake your head.

He throws Sato up into the air, it’s not too high. He catches the chubby little baby and you wait for the crying. It never comes though, because you hear your little boy giggle.

”What’d I tell you, sweetheart?” His face is smug because he was right.

“Daddy lift me up too! Mommy says you’re very strong!” She too has grabby hands. “Oh really?” He says smirking. The brunette lifts up his daughter so he’s holding both children in his arms.

You’re staring, hard. You and Iwaizumi have created a beautiful little family that’s bound to grow bigger at your surprise.

“Take a picture, Mommy. It’ll last longer.” His tone is laced with smugness. “Yeah yeah.” You roll your eyes. Even though his statement was meant as a joke you pull out your phone and take a picture anyway.

As he’s about to set them down you stop him, “wait we gotta get one more with me in it!” You say walking over to them to take a selfie.

“We don’t want our other little one to feel left out, now do we?” It takes him a second to realize what you said. It was too funny not to document his response so you snap pics of his surprised face.

“You’re pregnant?!” He says in shock. “Yeah, thanks to somebody.” Your daughter is next to speak.

“It’s because of the baby fairy, right?!” She asks excitedly.

Iwaizumi laughs, “yeah, the baby fairy is bringing you another little sibling.” Iwaizumi explains with a big smile on his face. You want to flip him off but not in front of the kids.

He’ll take his little girl to the gym (and his son when he gets older) and use her to do his work outs (She’ll be on his back while he’s doing push ups, “five more, Daddy!”)

teaches his children the importance of health

i can see him empowering his daughter and telling her if someone hits her then she has permission to hit back

sometimes he misses his children’s events but he’ll make up for it with something fun

He seems like the type to want a lot of kids (enough to have his own little volleyball team lmao)

He’s always telling them to not be like their uncle oikawa

ALWAYS taking pics of the little cuties

Idk what it is abt him but Sato it his only boy, something abt him just makes me think he’d have almost all girls 😂

Invested in a suv so he can drive the kiddos to school

such a fucking dad boss, he goes to all the parent teacher conferences, etc etc.

I’m 1 mil percent sure he makes his kids wearing matching pjs and they love it at first but they hate it when they get older lmao

he’s the strict but nice dad (pretty chill until one of the kids fuck up or if he isn’t a fan of something)

Not only does he get on his kids for eating junk food he nags you about it too

has all his kids stuffies names’ memorized “daddy! Popcorn has a boo boo!”

he’s big on family outdoor trips (you suggested glamping and he told you that’s such an oikawa idea and your fam is gonna do camping the right way)

Hesitant on letting his kids use technology, he didn’t want them to become fully dependent on tech (they aren’t 🫶🏾)

Kageyama Tobio:

“That’s my boy. When you’re setting you don’t want to slap the ball up with your palm, it’s more like slightly tapping it with your fingertips, uhhh does that make since?” Kageyama tries to explain to his twelve year old.

“I think I get it?” Kaito says in a questioning tone. Kageyama scratches his head. “I wonder when your mom will get home with the girls.” Kageyama thinks aloud.

Kaito shrugs and returns to practice setting the ball. He’s done it a few times and Kageyama praises everyone of his sets, even if some of them are really crappy.

“Dad, you don’t need to praise the bad ones. It doesn’t make me feel better. If you praise my trashy work then I’ll settle for being trashy.” Kaito explains to his father. Kageyama puts his hands on his hips, his face turns into a smirk.

“If you want real practice don’t get upset when I criticize every little thing. You know I’m nit picky when it comes to volleyball.” With that he removes his hands from his hips. His steps were even and he asks his son for the ball.

“Mom says you’re bitchy about volleyball. She says it’s gotten better though.” Kaito says, meaning little harm. He knew that would get Kageyama riled up.

“Huh? You’re joking, right?!” Kageyama’s squeezing the volleyball and Kaito is suppressing a laugh.

“Well she says that’s what uncle shoyo says and she agrees with him.” Kageyama mumbles something about you and Hinata. Kaito is sure it’s something along the lines of, ‘I’ll show them a true bitch.’

Kaito gets some good practice in, mainly because his dad is somewhat upset.

You’re finally home with your twin daughters who are two. You find your husband and eldest in the backyard together playing volleyball.

“Kaito, you’ll be as good as your dad one day!” You praise seeing the results of Kageyama’s practice with him.

“What’s this talk about me being bitchy when playing volleyball?” Kageyama confronts and your eyes immediately land on your son.

“Kaito! You cannot keep a secret for the life of you, huh?” You say with a chuckle.

“I get it from you, Mom.” He says seriously.

“Babe, it’s nothin serious. Just a small observation of Shoyo. It’s not supposed to be in a mean way.” You try to coax him. He isn’t having it though.

He starts fussing so you tell Kaito to get his sisters and take them to go play with toys.

As soon as they’re out of sight you walk up to your husband and give him a warm, loving kiss.

“Tobio, you are not taking this to heart right now,” a small chuckle leaves your lips. “As your wife I make comments about you all the time cuz you know as well as I do that I mean it in a loving way. I’m still not over you calling me a swelling balloon when I was pregnant!” You rant, the ending part of your rant earns a snort from your husband.

“You’re my swelling balloon.” For some reason that almost sounded sexy but you aren’t going to let it slide. You give him a playful punch.

“Can you guys quit being saps?” Kaito yells from the door.

“It’s your night to help potty train.” You say with a wink and Kageyama groans.

If he sees his child showing any interest in volleyball he’ll do his best to make his kid a next gen star

he despises that you make the family match for holidays and you send the photos out to family

He lets his kids run around butt naked when they’re little (until you scold him)

he wouldn’t see the problem in letting the twins have ice cream for breakfast

he learned how to do hair so he can braid his little girls’ hair 🥺

he and his son argue abt the dumbest things (got that Kageyama and hinata energy)

Also the competitive dad who wants his kids to be better than everyone else’s kids

he will literally bully any little kid to the point where they cry if they mess w his kids

I don’t think he’d freak out when his daughters start their period he’s just like “okay. I think ur mom has pads somewhere 🧍🏻”

Miya Osamu:

“Pa! Come quick!” 6 and a half year old Haruki yells from the bathroom. When Osamu hears him he comes running up the stairs and into the bathroom.

“The heck ya doing in here? Yer ma’s gonna tear ya a new one!” Osamu examines the mess his son has made with finger paint. “I was trying something, Pa. Then my tooth came out cuz I was wigglin’ it!”

It isn’t until his son says that sentence that he notices there’s a small empty space in his mouth where his little tooth should be. “Huh? This yer first tooth?” Osamu asks.

“Pa, I been talking about this darn tooth for weeks!” His son responds with sass.

“well ‘cuse me for forgettin’ little man.” Osamu says with a roll of his eyes. This boy has got your attitude big time.

“You stay right here, ima go get ya some warm salt water. Don’t ya move.” Osamu warns as he goes to fetch some water for his son.

“So I can’t even breathe?” He asks sarcastically.

“Quit bein’ a lil smart aleck.” Osamu demands with a little bit more strictness in his tone. He’s usually pretty laid back with his son but sometimes Haruki hears the way his Uncle ‘Tsumu talks to his dad and he thinks he can talk that way.

Osamu runs down the stairs to the kitchen and scrambles around for a cup. He finds the salt and sprinkles some in. He puts the cup in the microwave for about a minute and it feels like the longest minute of his life.

“Hurry, Pa! The blood’s gettin’ everywhere!” Haruki yells out of worry.

Osamu retrieves the cup from the microwave and stampedes up the stairs to the bathroom.

“Here, swish it. All of it.” He commands.

“Pa I don’t wanna swish all this salt water it won’t taste good.” He explains to his pa.

“Do ya want the blood to go away or nah?” Osamu asks and Haruki shakes his head yes.

Your mini me began to swish the water as Osamu cleaned up the bathroom.

“Yer lucky I saved ya. Shoulda told yer ma ‘bout the mess you made.” Osamu snorts.

“Do ya think my baby sister will look like you or ma?” Haruki asks instead of thanking his father for cleaning his mess.

“I reckon she’ll get my beautiful eyes that drew yer ma to me n my thick brows.” Osamu says proudly puffing his chest.

“‘s not the only thing ma calls thick.” Haruki mutters which makes Osamu look down to him.

“Whaddya mean?” He asks his eyebrows scrunching up.

“She always talks to Uncle Rin ‘bout how thick ur butt is but she says it with two c’s at the end instead of T-H-I-C-K. What does the one with two c’s mean, Pa?” Haruki asks out of pure curiosity.

Osamu’s face goes red and he covers his face.

“It don’t mean nothin’ at all son. Don’t listen to what yer ma says that’s just her talking crazy.” Your husband explains.

“So when she tells me to go to bed-” Osamu cuts him off.

“I outta pop you for how smart yer acting.” Osamu says firmly.

“Sorry Pa, I’ll stop.” Haruki has a cheeky little smile on his face. He knows Osamu isn’t going to do anything. You handle all the discipline.

Osamu’s phone buzzes loudly in his pocket and he takes it out to answer it.

Osamu’s face goes still and then his eyes about pop out his head. “Slow down honey one word atta time.” Haruki hears you yell over the phone.

“We’re on our way right now.” Osamu says in quickly.

“Let’s go pack yer bag Haruki, yer staying with Uncle ‘Tsumu.” Haruki doesn’t move a muscle but then his dad gives him the look that says ‘do not test me right now’

“Is Ma okay?” Haruki asks his dad slightly worried.

“As okay as you can be goin’ into labor.” Osamu responds. For Haruki’ age he’s an advanced child but he’s picked up on the twins vulgar language and their accent. He knew what it meant when Osamu said you went into labor.

“My sister’s comin’?!” He asks excitedly.

“Mhm, now go pack yer bag. Ya need three shirts, three pairs of pants, some underwear and matching socks. Yer uncle will take ya to school. If I don’t come get you within the next three days just ask yer uncle to wash yer clothes. We’ll most likely see ya tomorrow but yer gonna stay with yer uncle to yer ma’s outta the hospital.”

Osamu explains all at once. “Okay Pa!”

let’s his kiddos get away with a lot more than they should

teaching them to cook was like his favorite thing to do

he lets you handle the punishments because Osamu is a soft dad

Whenever atsumu is over and you aren’t around he’s swearing like a sailor to his brother and his kids pick up on it 😭

100% a cuddler (Haruki acts like he hates it but he doesn’t)

idc what y’all say but he takes his daughter shopping like prom coming up? He’s there when she’s trying on dresses

no phones at the table enforcer (believes in quality family time)

he was relieved to not have twins like his brother did 😂

always teasing Haruki (for example he hates seeing u guys kiss so Osamu purposely kisses u in front of him just to upset him lmao)

the poor man tries his best w homework but geometry doesn’t make any sense “why are there shapes in math ya only really need to know how to add, subtract, multiply, n divide”

something just tells me he has a bird feeder and he enjoys drinking his coffee in the morning (little ones have hot chocolate) and watch the birds come and eat

[theatricalnebula]

always thinking about how the only times we ever see utena wear dresses is when a man wants her to, even though she's clearly very uncomfortable with it. and also how each time it happens it's more horrific than the last.

the first time is because touga sends it to her, and she wears it despite saying she hates it, presumably for the same reason she tells him she came to the party in the first place: because she thinks he might be her prince. the bright side of this time is that she's (somehow) wearing her uniform underneath it, and is able to take it off.

the second time we don't get to see where the dress comes from or hear her thoughts on it, but it's pretty clear to me that she only chose to wear it because she thought akio would want her to. her own choice, but only by a technicality, the same way she doesn't actually get to choose anything when it comes to akio. (wonder what other relevance that has in this episode. hmmm)

and the last time may be the worst of all of them because this time she is literally forced into wearing it. she doesn't even get the illusion of a choice. and worse yet, it's the rose bride dress, the very symbol of the role akio has been grooming her into for the entire show.

something i really love about utena as a character is that her gender-noncomformity is explored and questioned throughout the show, but the answer it comes to is always that she is not comfortable with femininity, and that's something about her that never changes no matter how much certain people want it to. every time utena presents more femininely (other examples being the girl's uniform in episode 12 and the earrings in episode 35) it's always framed as something bad for her, something she is forced or coerced into against her will (to varying degrees.) and the show is not saying that being feminine is bad, just that utena isn't, that being gender-noncomforming is a key part of her identity, and that trying to take that away from her is cruel and violating.

[beybaldes]

And somehow I know that you and I would've found each other

roy kent x gn!reader

word count : 8.7k

masterlist

summary : you and roy always end up finding your way back to each-other

content warning : taylor popped the fuck off with the speak now vault tracks especially timeless (another timeless fic coming out soon!!!!), slow burn that takes place over 36 years - dermatologists hate me! Roy’s sister is dubbed Molly yet again, I steal britanny brett for plot because I’m obsessed with @onceuponaoneshotfanfic and superstar (check it out now if you still haven’t, and if you have already, then reread it!!!!!!)

It's 1991 and youre not old enough to understand why your neighbour, and best friends older brother Roy, has to move away. You're only 4 years old, and so is Molly, and Roy's only 9 - so you're not sure why he's going away, where he's going, or if he's ever going to come back.

All you do know is that you and Molly's little arms are wrapped tightly around each other and you feel like it's never going to be enough to fill the hole of Roy's absence.

It's a cool September morning and Roy knows that December 19th - the day he gets to come back home for Christmas - is exactly 107 days away, but not even the last dregs of summers warmth can make this moment something he's going to look back fondly on.

He's got blankie folded perfectly at the bottom of his backpack and your favourite teddy bear wrapped up in it. Even though he wouldn't discover it until he'd arrived at Sunderland, you knew it was there and that Roy would look after it, and it made everything feel just a little bit better.

When Roy's Grandad announces that it's time to go, he gives you and Molly one last hug, pressing a kiss to both of your heads and promising to write and call whenever he can. You and Molly chase the car until the end of the street, where it turns a corner and Molly's mum calls you back to the house; you linger long enough to watch Roy turn from one of your best friends into a blurry figure in the back of a car.

Ms Kent gives you and Molly ice lolly's from the freezer and puts on 'Cinderella' while you eat them. She then sits through 'Sleeping Beauty,’ ‘The Little Mermaid', and 'Beauty and the Beast' with the two of you until your tears have long since stopped and you've fallen asleep in each others arms.

The following morning, Ms Kent nearly has a heart attack when she doesn't find you in Molly's bed, but her worry is soon ended when she realises the door to Roy's room is half opened and you're quietly curled up in tear stained sheets. Slowly, she wakes you up, and when fresh tears spring to your eyes she's quick to pull you into her arms. As she rocks you gently in her hold, she promises you that the prince always returns to the princess; even if it takes breaking a curse or waiting for 100 years.

They always find each-other in the end and live happily ever after.

And 107 days is nothing when you're 4 years old, it's the blink of an eye and sticky melted ice lolly on your hands, it's your first ever school uniform and glitter from Christmas crafts that you cant get off you no matter how many showers you take, and it goes by even quicker when Roy comes home 10 days sooner then expected.

You don't see him for the first 5 days. Roy locked himself away in his room and refused to come out or speak to anyone. But when the sixth day, and the weekend, finally rolls around, you decide to do something about it.

For a 9 year old, Roy sure had a lot to think about. He never got to say goodbye to his grandad, and he wasn't going to teach him how to ride a bike, or see him score his first professional goal, or get married, and he didn't know how to explain that when he went back to Sunderland come new year, he wasn't going away in the same capacity granddad had.

No 9 year old should've been thinking of all that.

Roy hadn't been expecting any visitors, not that he wanted any, but when you barged your way into his bedroom, he couldn't bring himself to send you away.

"Go away." Roy had growled, hidden beneath blankie and curled tightly into himself. "I want to be alone." Roy hadn't meant a lick of it and you hadn't believed any of it either.

"No, you don't." Though you had to wriggle your little self into his arms, you did it, and beamed proudly against his pyjama clad chest when he let you cuddle up to him. Roy had hugged you tightly, pulling you closer to him and wrapping blankie tightly around you both. "I missed you, Royo."

"You packed Dave in my bag." Roy stated, not asking why, or whether you wanted the teddy bear back, or telling you that he'd actually left it in Sunderland for when he went back in a few weeks time.

"You need him more then I do." Roy just nodded his head at your words, willing himself not to cry at the guilt he felt over leaving you and Molly behind and thinking about something other then his grandad. "And, if you have Dave, and Dave is mine, then you have to come and give him back to me. You have to come back from sundayland."

"Sunderland."

"What's that?" You tilted your head up to look at Roy, and found him already looking at you, half a smile on his lips.

"It's nothing."

Both you and Roy fell asleep in his room, under the safety of blankie, talking about 'sundayland' and everything good about his time there. It wasn't until tea time that his mum found the two of you and dragged you down stairs for dinner, teasing Roy once you'd gone home that you definitely had a little crush on him.

~*~

Roy's transfer to Chelsea once the season is over is announced just before your 16th birthday and you swear it's the best birthday present you've ever gotten. He's newly 21 and he's got this shaggy mullet thing going on that really shouldn't be working for him, but it is. You can't keep your eyes off of him, and Roy pretends not to notice for what he tells himself is your sake. He knows it isn't.

When his car pulls up in the drive for the first time since the weekend he came down for Mollys birthday, you and Molly run out of the house hand in hand to greet him, crying his name. He lets the two of you crash into him and wrap your arms tightly around him, almost squeezing him to death when he finds himself sandwiched between the two of you.

Roy's barely been on home soil for 10 seconds when Molly pulls away from the hug to look up at her big brother with the best puppy dog eyes she can muster up at 16. "Will you buy us drinks to take to leavers?”

"Fuck off, buy your own." You don't unwrap your arms from around Roy while they bicker, quite enjoying the familiarity of the scene before you. It was almost too long ago to fathom the last time Roy had been home long enough to start a fight with Molly, and though you never thought you'd say it, it was really nice to see.

"Incase you lost some brain cells this season, you have to be 18 to buy alcohol, fuckhead." Roy just stared blankly at Molly, and ran his fingers up and down the length of your arm as you stayed curled in his side, thinking about how similar Roy and Molly really are when it comes down to it. "So, I need you to buy it for us."

"Ask mum to buy it for you."

Molly immediately scoffs, throwing her hands in the air and muttering under her breath that she was genuinely concerned that Roy had lost some brain cells from all the headers he'd done this season. "Don't you think I tried that, dumbass? Mum said no to both of us."

Roy's gaze turned to meet yours, surprised to find you already looking at him. "Please Royo, everyone else will be drinking at leavers." Roy could never say no to you, and he was convinced both you and Molly knew that and had concocted this scheme to get him to buy it for you. He didn't mind saying yes, at least not this time, at least not when it was you asking.

Molly ran back into the house with an excited cry, promising to return with all the money she'd owe Roy for the drinks plus some as a charitable donation for his kindness.

For the first time in almost a year, you and Roy where completely alone together. He spared a moment to look at you, really look at you; notice how your hair had gotten longer and that your sense of style had completely changed, that the early summer sun was already tanning your skin and that you still had your arms around him. Roy only tightened his grip on you, dragging you into and around the house with him until you made it to the living room.

His mum had repainted since he'd last been down to visit from Sunderland and there were new photos on the wall behind the settee; mainly of you and Molly on your last day of school and one of Roy at his last match playing for Sunderland.

"You look like a proper footballer now, Royo." Despite every other seat in the living room being free, you took purchase on the arm of the chair right beside Roy and pray no one thinks it's a sign of the bubbling feelings you have for him. You may only be 16 but you're sure you've been in love with Roy for the better part of your life. It's one thing for everyone to tease you about you and Roy having little crushes on each other as kids, it's a whole other thing for people to tease you for having a crush on him when you actually did.

Roy scoffed, taking a long swig from the beer he'd grabbed from the kitchen when he first got to the house, swallowing down his smile. "But not enough for you to stop calling me 'Royo,' apparently."

"You could be the most famous footballer on the planet and I'd still call you Royo." You reached up for his hair and ruffled it, laughing at the way he pulled away from your touch and went to flatten his hair back out almost immediately. "But I mean it, you look like the kind of footballer kids have posters of up on their walls, that they want to be when they grow up."

And you're entirely right. Somewhere up in Manchester, a 6 year old Jamie Tartt is pinning a poster of your Roy up on his wall and promising himself, and his dad, that all of his time and money spent on football practice will one day pay off  - that he's going to be one of the greats, just like Roy Kent.

"You'll always be my Royo, Roy. Even when you're super famous and don't remember me anymore." Your hand had somehow found it's way back into Roy's hair and he couldn't bring himself to move away from your touch. Since his sudden rise to fame, in which it seemed like he'd become an overnight sensation, he couldn't remember when he was last touched so gently. Touching only to touch, not because they wanted something from him or his name.

Roy couldn't keep in the smile that pulled at his lips. It faltered slightly at the fact he couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled, let alone genuinely, but it quickly returned and warmed his face when he meet your eyes. "And how could I ever forget the likes of you, yeah?"

Somewhere between shared words and glances, his hand had found yours and the two of you couldn't tear your eyes away from the other. "Dinners ready, guys." Molly was well known for her perfect timing, and despite some initial upset at the moment being taken from you, you knew it was for the better. Roy was Molly's brother, your best friends brother, who had 5 years on you yet.  Though you knew it was unlikely anything would ever happen between the two of you, moments like this made you think there was a small possibility something one day would. The thought wasn't one worth seriously entertaining. "Did I... interrupt something?"

"What? No way." You and Molly ran from the room hand in hand, giggles bubbling past your lips and exchanged, in hushed whispers, the conversation that Molly had just walked in on.

It was like Roy had never left as he followed the two of you into the dining room. He took his seat across the table from you like he always did and knocked his foot against yours every time he wanted your attention. Dinner was good and before he knew it you were half on top of him on the sofa, sneaking bites from his plate of dessert as everyone else partook in the worlds most heated game of Pictionary.

He gave a sharp nudge to your ribs when you stole the last bite but quickly soothed it over with the gentle drumming of his fingers against your skin. The pair of you talked in hushed tones for the rest of the evening about his transfer to Chelsea and everything he was looking forward to now that he was back in London, as well as all your plans for your super long summer before you started college in September.

It was only when Roy's mum turned to ask if you were going home or staying over that anyone had noticed the two of you cuddled up in the armchair in the corner of the room, both fast asleep. She didn't dare wake you, thankful to see her son at peace for the first time in what felt like years, instead placing a blanket over the two of you and ushering Molly up to bed despite her insistence that you come with her.

One day, she thought, the two of you would finally see yourselves in other people, realise that if love looks like that then the two of you must be in it, and with any luck she'd still be alive to see it. She knew Roy was stubborn enough to keep that from happening. Maybe he would't be this time; at least, not when it came to you.

~*~

When the rumours of Roy's relationship with Britanny Brett are confirmed by a quote she gives in an interview, he finds himself typing out an apology to you. He stares at his phone for 3 hours and the most he can type out is 'I didn't want you to find out like this, I'm sorry,' but he still doesn't send it. Roy's not entirely sure what he's apologising for.

It's the night before his 27th birthday and he's debating whether or not he should show up to the birthday dinner his mum has planned for him tomorrow. You'll be there. He knows it. But only because he knows that Molly dragged you back from uni with her just for the occasion. And for some reason that he can't quite place, or just doesn't want to yet, he feels bad about having to see your face and hear you talk about his girlfriend.

Although Brittany Brett is smoking hot, and they have really great sex, he's not sure he wants to take her home to meet his family. To meet you. Sure, she's a great footballers girlfriend, but he's a little worried about what the people who know him as just Roy will think of her.

When she appears on the other side of his door the morning of his 27th birthday, the first thing he says to her is 'you can't come to my birthday party' and he feels like he's 8 years old again and making mortal enemies in the playground at school. She doesn't acknowledge his comment, instead inviting herself in and making herself at home in Roy's living room, and he's never been more thankful for her 'too good for everyone' demeanour.

He drops her off at her house on the way over to his mums house later that evening. Roy decides he hates the way her perfume lingers in his car and has buried itself under his skin. He wants nothing more then for it to get away from him but there's still 20 minutes left of the drive and he knows the second you hear the car pull up you'll come running out the door and he won't have anytime to get the smell off of him.

When he pulls up on the doorstep of his childhood home 20 minutes later, only Molly comes running from the house to greet him. For a minute he thinks you haven't shown up to celebrate his birthday with him and he feels his heart break in two. He tells himself he doesn't know why. However, when he walks into the house and heads straight to the kitchen in search of a beer to calm his nerves, and help him forget about you, he finds you there, helping his mum with making his favourite dinner and a wide smile on your face.

You notice him lingering, shocked, in the doorway and pull him into your arms. There's less strength to your hold then he's used to but he feels grateful that you even want him in your arms after everything he's done. Now Roy really isn't sure why he's talking like that; like you've been hard done by from his relationship with Brittany Brett. To a degree he feels like he's cheated on you, but he can't have done because the two of you were never together. However, he doesn't let the thought linger, instead pulling you tighter against him and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Of course you'd be here, of course you would, but he finds himself holding onto you for a little longer then he probably should just to make sure you're really here and really staying.

Dinner is nice. It's a piece of simplicity he's missed every night since he was 9 years old and heading away to Sunderland for the first time. It's not often nowadays that he gets to eat dinner at a dining table surrounded by people he loves and who love him, so he relishes in every moment of it. He lets his hand brush against yours when he asks for the salt and he nudges your foot with his every-time he wants your attention. Being in this room, in this seat, with you, is like being 8 years old again and everything bad is yet to happen to him. Roy realises he likes the feeling of it more then he ever remembers.

No one brings up Brittany Brett, the way Roy smelt like her when you hugged him, the apology he never sent, or the way you cried in Molly and Ms Kent's arms when you found out he had a girlfriend. Dinner is peaceful and you and Roy share a slice of birthday cake on his Grandad's armchair, then fall asleep together there like he doesn't have a girlfriend and you don't have a broken heart.

His mum feels like she's got two children in her house and she wishes it would stay like this forever, as long as that meant Roy couldn't hurt your heart more then he already had. But Roy is stubborn, and she knows that. When she comes downstairs in the morning it's just you on the armchair with Roy's jacket over your shoulders like a blanket. You're hugging the material tightly against you as if it could ever replace Roy's presence, and even though you're still asleep, both of you know it won't.

When Roy sneaks out at 4am, the first thing he does is drive to Brittany Brett's house and breaks up with her. After all, there's no point being with someone when you know for a fact that you're in love with someone else.

~*~

Molly's dating this guy who doesn't let her speak to you, or Roy, or her own mum and you're scared for her life. In the two times you've managed to get a hold of her, you begged and pleaded with her to leave him. She's only 25 and so are you, you could run away together and start it all over and no one would know any different. Both times she said she wanted to be with him, that she loved him. All you want is your best friend back and for her to be safe, and rather selfishly, because you need her more then you've ever needed anyone.

Despite trying all day, you can't reach her, or her boyfriend, and you don't know who else to call. Ms Kent was the only real parental figure you'd had growing up, but it was pushing midnight and you didn't want to wake her up for the sake of your own comfort. Roy's number is below hers on your favourite contacts and you don't hesitate to ring it. You know he's got a match this weekend and practice tomorrow but you need someone and you have no one else to keep you from your own mind.

Roy's in some club in north London when his phone rings and his screen illuminates with your name and a picture of the two of you from last Christmas. It's one of the newcomers 21st birthday and he remembers being 21 and moving to Chelsea, moving back home, like it was yesterday. He's got 10 years on the kid who's just starting his career while he's going on aging out of it. It's almost enough to make him feel old.

He's quick to answer the phone, practically running out of the club to make sure he can hear you and he's already walking back to his car when he hears the suppressed sniffle to your voice. Roy can't see 100% past 9pm anymore so he doesn't drink when he goes out with the team, he knows it'll only make it worse, and for the first time ever, it's actually come in use.

It takes him 37 minutes exactly to drive from the club to your childhood home that's pressed brick by brick against his, and that's only because he made a pit stop to his own house on the way over. Every time he comes back here lately, it feels like some cruel trick of fate, that he can't have you but can have his entire life shaped by you.

He's banging his fist loudly against the door before he can take into consideration that your neighbours, one of which is his own mother, are likely asleep and wouldn't take too kindly to being woken up at this hour. When you open the door to a friendly face, you all but collapse into Roy's arms, already sobbing and heaving and trying to get the words out but not being able to do so. He scoops you up into his arms, years of intense football training allowing him to do it without second though, and carries you to your bedroom.

He placed you against the pillows and then kicks off his shoes, he definitely scuffed them up in the process but Roy couldn't seem to find the time to mind. Before you've managed to get a single word out Roy's stripped off the bulk of his suit, leaving him in just a shirt, boxers and socks. The image is kind of funny and if you weren't so devastated, you were sure you'd be laughing.

"What's wrong?" When Roy's hands gently wrap around your wrists to try and pull them away from your face and get a glance at you, you just start crying harder. "C'mon sweetheart, talk to me."

When he's met with more silence he pulls out his surprise weapon, a raggedy, old teddy bear, with matted fur that smells surprisingly like Roy. "Would it be easier to talk to Dave?" Finally your hands move away from your face to get a look at the teddy bear, not believing it's right in front of you when you know you haven't seen it since you were five yours old. It took a couple of minutes, lots of sniffling, and really willing yourself to say it, but eventually you did. Roy's arms around your and the soft touch of Dave's fur against your skin settling your nerves.

"My dad died this morning." Roy didn't hesitate to pull you into his lap, settling himself against your pillows as he brought you closer to him. "And I have no one to tell. Molly's boyfriend won't let her speak to me anymore, and I didn't want to burden your mum with it, and I just... I didn't know who to call or talk to and I know you were probably busy-"

"Hey, hey, don't. You did the right thing calling me. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, yeah?" Both of Roy's hands are cradling your face, forcing you to look at him and really listen to what he wants to say. "I'm here, okay? I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

You shuffle in his lap, turning enough that you can bury your head in the crook of his neck and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Roy's warm and surprisingly comfy, but you reckon that's more so because the skin of his thighs are pressing into the skin of yours and you're sure it's the closest you've ever been to him. You try not to think about how you wouldn't mind being this close to him more often.

The rest of the night is spent with you in Roy's arms, his hand running up and down your back, his other hand cradling your face and wiping away each tear that spills over. He lets you ramble and ramble about everything on your mind with no regard for the fact he's got practice at 8am tomorrow. Even when you fall asleep in his arms, tears staining his brand new shirt, practice is the furthest thing from his mind, so much so that he doesn't even remember sending  Di Matteo the text saying he wasn't well and wouldn't be able to make practice in the morning.

Roy wakes up a long time before you, and he finds he has to practically drag himself away from you and the bed. When his eyes blink open he sees the sight he's spent the better part of his life waiting to see: you're in his arms, fast asleep, looking entirely peaceful and for a minute he can pretend that this is his life. While the haze of sleep has yet to fade, he can act like he wakes up to you every morning, that you love him like he loves you, and that, if he wanted to, he could press kisses all over your face until you woke up and flashed him that bright beautiful smile of yours.

If he wanted to, he could press kisses all over your face until you woke up and you would greet him with a soft smile, pressing a kiss to his face in return and not caring if it landed against his lips, cheek, or jaw, because you know you'll be able to kiss the other places whenever you like.

Roy pulls himself out of bed and drags his feet all the way to your kitchen where he cooks the two of you breakfast. Nothing about it is rushed - he knows that he has nowhere to be but here, with you. He knows you've woken up when he can hear the gentle padding of your feet against your bedroom floor. Roy hears you walk down the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where you then cross the room to him, and wrap your arms around his waist. Dave is clutched in on of your hands and your head is pressed against the dimples of his shoulder blades, your other hand fiddling with the hem of the front of his T-shirt, so casually that any passer by would think this was routine. And even though it isn't, Roy takes the risk of placing his hand atop your own and lacing his fingers through yours. When he can feel you smile into his back, he thinks maybe he should've kissed you in the bedroom, that maybe you'd have liked it just as much as he would've.

~*~

It's another year after your dad died before Molly finds out. She doesn't show up to Christmas, or Easter, but she comes by one late spring afternoon when Ms Kent had invited you and Roy over for picky bits in the garden, with a bin bag full of her belongings and a black eye. If your hand wasn't holding Roy's so tightly you were sure he would've been right out of the door, driving off to find the prick and give him an even worse beating then he'd given his sister.

You pull Roy with you when you cross the garden to engulf Molly in a hug, both of you breaking down at the contact and apologies tumbling from both of your lips. Molly apologises for not being there when your dad died, and not attending the funeral, you force her to take back her apology while also shoving your own down her throat, apologising for not finding her, for not being there. The two of you only cry harder when Roy pulls the two of you, still hugging, into his embrace. It's warm and his hands are big and it makes you feel like you're a child again, and you suppose that in some ways you still are.

It takes almost half an hour for the two of you to calm down enough for any coherent words to get out, and the first ones that do is that Molly's pregnant and she needs somewhere to stay. Immediately you ask her to move in with you. It's perfect really, you're next door to her mum and you've got a room for her and for the baby (when it comes) now that your dads passed. Roy likes the idea even more; something about his three, soon to be four, favourite people being in one place taking his fancy.

The eight months between Molly showing back up and beautiful baby Phoebe being born seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. The soft, warm, yellow paint of phoebes nursery smears your memories of those months; everything about it is caked in the glow of the summer you have when you're 5 years old and have no care in the world.

You and Molly are best friends again and it's like you never missed two years of each others lives; everything just falls right back into place. The two of you do everything together and you wouldn't have it any other way, even when everything includes being in the room with her and Ms Kent when she's giving birth.

Roy, unluckily, is the only one not invited into the room, and he spends almost 6 hours pacing back and forth and back and forth and back and forth in the waiting room, waiting for some kind of an update on his sister and his niece. It's you that comes to give it to him. You're in blue scrubs that you pull off further with every step you take into the waiting room, running right into Roy's arms with the widest smile he's ever seen cross your face.

"She's beautiful, Roy. She's so beautiful." He just nods his head and allows you to take his hand and pull him in the direction of the room Molly and his mum are in. "I love her so much already and she's only been here for 5 minutes."

Roy understood what you meant as soon as he walked into the room. Molly was absolutely glowing, and cradling this tiny, tiny baby in her arms like she was terrified any movement at all might hurt her - she didn't even look like she was breathing less it hurt the baby.

"Do you want to hold her?" You whispered, nudging his foot with yours to gain his attention. "You won't break her, promise." You didn't give Roy the opportunity to answer, instead eagerly taking the baby off of Molly and walking over to Roy. His mum all but pushed him into one of the chairs they had in the room and lectured him on how to hold the baby correctly. Slowly, you lowered her into his arms, making sure he had a comfortable and safe grip on her before you removed your arms from the little Phoebe completely. "Isn't she amazing?"

Roy can already picture it and it's breaking his heart. You, and him, and a little baby wrapped in a blanket with eyes that don't yet know how to open. But, in the daydream he doesn't tell anyone about, you're holding the baby and his arms are around you, whispering how much he loves you into your ear and promising to do everything for that baby. Your baby. He doesn't yet know if a day like that is ever going to come; he'd have to get over himself first, and he doesn't see that happening anytime soon. For you, however, he just might try.

"Yeah, yeah she is."

Molly and little baby Phoebe have to stay in the hospital overnight, but can be discharged in the morning, and Molly doesn't let any of you stay with her. In fact, she demands the three of you head home and come back tomorrow, well rested to drive her and newborn Phoebe home.

The three of you pick up some chinese takeout on your way home and eat it around Ms Kent's dinner table. Molly's absence is so heavily felt that part of you feels thrust back in time to a year ago, when you didn't have any contact with her and didn't know if she was even alive, let alone okay. It shakes you to your core and you leave your dinner half eaten as you excuse yourself to the bathroom just to breathe. When you return to the table, you find that dinner has been cleared away, but Ms Kent is holding out a spoon for you, pointing you in the direction of the living room.

Roy's sat in his grandads armchair with the biggest bowl of ice cream you've ever seen and he opens up his arms to you when he feels you staring at him from the doorway. You didn't hesitate to sit with him, squished up in the seat that fit the both of you slightly better when you were kids, with Roy's arm around your shoulders. When you didn't take a large helping of ice cream for yourself, he nudged the bowl in your direction.

"When Molly came home, I'd get in bed with her each night." You whispered, only loud enough that Roy would be able to hear you. It felt embarrassing, to try and explain why you felt Molly's absence for one night so vastly, but you knew that if anyone would get it, it would be Roy. "For the first month or so, she'd ask me to stay with her, so she knew she wasn't alone and she was safe. So I did. And then one night she was like 'I don't need you in bed with me anymore, I think I'm okay now,' and I didn't know what to do." You stuck your spoon inside the ice-cream, stirring it around the bowl but never bringing the build up of vanilla on the spoon to your lips. "I got in bed that night and I couldn't sleep at all, so I went and knocked on her door and she was still awake. Told me she couldn't sleep either, and I got right back into bed with her." Tears pricked at your eyes and your spoon fell against the bowl. "I don't know what to do without Molly, Royo, I don't want to have to do without her again."

Roy quickly moved the half eaten bowl of ice cream to the coffee table, pulling you into him and cradling your head against his shoulder. "Molly's not going anywhere, babe, she'll be home in the morning. Everything's going to be okay."

Neither of you brought up how he called you babe, and his mum didn't bring up how you fell asleep cuddled up in the armchair like you did when you were kids. But when Roy brought Phoebe and Molly home the following morning, and Molly and Ms Kent had taken Phoebe upstairs to get her settled into her new home, he pulled you in for a hug.

"Told you so." He whispered in your ear, pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple. Then Roy grabbed your hand, interlocking your fingers with his and pulling you up the stairs to join Phoebe in her new room. Dave was in his other hand and he continued to stand by you as you placed it in the crib with her, knowing that she needed Dave more then you or Roy did now.

All of you couldn't wait to watch this little girl grow up surrounded by people who loved her so, so much.

~*~

Roy gets transferred to Richmond just before Phoebe's 4th birthday and you tease him that he has a penchant for getting the best kinds of birthday present. He asks why you remember so clearly that his transfer to Chelsea 15 years ago was just before your 16th birthday, and you answer honestly that it was the only thing you'd wanted for your birthday that year - for Roy to be closer to home. You immediately get to tease him again as a blush coats his cheeks.

On his first day at Richmond, he gets you, Molly and Phoebe seats in the family box, says that they'll always be there if you ever want to come and watch him play, and you reply that you always watch him play.

"I've been playing professionally for half my life. Sunderland, Chelsea, and now Richmond. I've never seen you even glimpse at a football match."

You scoff immediately and Roy's slightly taken aback, you almost look angry at what he's saying and he doesn't know why because he's right. Not that it matters to him, but you just don't like football that much; he doesn't blame you or anything, each to their own, but he wishes you'd like it for him. "I've seen every game you've ever played."

"Yeah, right."

"Yeah, right." You turned to Roy, putting down the bag filled with Phoebe's first ever school uniform inside now that you'd made it back home. "I'm serious. I've watched every match you've ever played in. All of your games with Sunderland and Chelsea, and I'll watch all your games now that you're at Richmond." You turn to Roy with a tense crease in your brow and he's wishing he never brought it up. "You're important to me Roy, of course I'd watch every time you play."

"What's sundayland, babe?" Phoebe had ran into the living room when she'd heard the door go, excited that you and Roy returned home. Molly and you had called each other babe since you were teenagers, and Phoebe had taken to calling you babe over your actual name. It didn't help that Roy had let it slip a few time too, only reassuring her that she was calling you by the correct thing.

"It's nothing, pheeb's." You scooped the little blonde into your arms, resting her against your jutted out hip and beginning to wander through the house. "Where your mum? You need to try on your uniform."

"Can I give you a fashion show?" She asked, leaning her head against your shoulder in a way that had Roy thinking about the two of you with a kid again. He'd have to ask you out first, and with each year that passed, the possibility of him actually doing that seemed to get slimmer and slimmer.

"Of course you can, Pheeb's. Go get dressed. Me and your uncle Roy will wait in the living room."

You stuck to your word, watching every single match that Roy played in. Sometimes at Nelson road, sometimes with Molly and Phoebe, sometimes in Ms Kent's living room - but you always watched him play.

The first time Molly let you take Phoebe to Nelson road was as your birthday present the same year Phoebe turned 6. You'd been pleading all year for Molly to let you bring Phoebe along to a home game, and she finally caved - on the condition you kept her ear defenders on all night and left if it got too much for her. Phoebe loved every minute of the match, screamed her little heart out just for the sake of joining in, even if she didn't know what people were saying; You were certain her cry of 'uncle Roy' every time she saw him with the ball was the loudest in the stadium.

When the match was over, a man with glasses found you in the stands, introduced himself as 'Higgins,' handed you two family lanyards with Kent plastered all over them, and asked you to follow him. You're barely in the changing rooms when Phoebe lets go of your hand, crying Roy's name and interrupting a speak from that new, American coach that Roy had complained about.

"Phoebe!" The blonde didn't wait up for you, running right at Roy and knowing he'd catch her when she flung herself the remaining foot into his arms. "What did I tell you?"

"I didn't know grandad fancied himself a cradle robber." You'd heard enough complaints to know the dig at Roy was from Jamie Tartt, the season loan from Manchester City. "Surely, someone like you isn't married to someone like Roy."

The twinge of disgust that slipped from the mans mouth when he said Roy's name had your blood boiling. "Why? Would you rather me with the likes of you instead?"

Jamie stood in dumbfounded silence as you turned back to Roy, your face entirely brightening, and his presence being totally ignored for the rest of your stay in the lock room. He wasn't used to that. He was trying to compliment you, say you were way out of Roy's league - maybe even ask for your number - but you didn't even spare him a second glance. In fact, now that your eyes were back on him, he wasn't entirely sure you were ever going to look away from Roy again. It made sense when he thought about it in bed later that night, even though he teased the fuck out of Roy and sometimes plainly treated him like shit, Roy Kent was one of the greats. Even Jamie Tartt knew that, and had known it since he was 6 years old - of course he'd managed to score someone like you.

Murmurs of Roy Kent having a secret spouse and daughter had filled Nelson Road before you'd even left the building.

It wasn't that Roy didn't want to talk about you. If he had the opportunity, he'd scream about you from rooftops, but being a footballer was a very public affair and he loved his privacy. Almost as much as he loved you.

The dog track didn't think they'd ever see your face again, not when Roy had growled at them after he'd guided you and Phoebe out of the changing room. Unfortunately for them, they would, under the worst possible circumstances.

You'd been on the edge of your seat the whole match. Roy's been benched for the first time in what you're sure is his entire career and doesn't come on until the 60th minute and when he does, you swear he's on fire. He's playing better then he'd ever played before, running faster then he's ever ran in the past few years, and he's slide tackling Jamie Tartt and getting the ball away from the goal. People are screaming his name and so are you.

And then he's not getting up.

And then he's still not getting up.

And then he's still not getting up, the cheers have died down, and everyone's waiting with baited breath while it's determined if they've just seen the end of Roy Kent's 30 year long career with their own eyes.

And then Roy gets up, and for a fleeting moment you think that maybe everything's okay, that Roy's okay, and he's going to carry on playing.

And then he's walking from the pitch, limping, and your sprinting from your seat in the family box and running up to the owners box. You don't have to say a word because Rebecca calls a member of security over to you, and asks with a kind smile for him to guide you down to the changing rooms.

You linger outside the door for about 5 seconds before you push it open. If you were anyone else, you'd were certain he would've yelled at you to get out, even though he didn't mean it, just for the sake of his image. But you weren't anyone else, you were you.

"I'm fine." You hadn't even made it fully into the room and Roy was already trying to make his pain seem less bad then it was. "I'm fine. Go watch the rest of the match. You might have to drive us back to yours though."

"Roy." He doesn't say anything as you cross the room and sit beside him on the bench. You slowly wrap your arm around his shoulders and tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling his head down to rest against your shoulder. "Don't. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, yeah? You're important to me, let me be here for you."

Roy kisses you and you instantly realise you'd have waited 33 more years for it, if that meant it would happen.

His lips are chapped, and his beard is slightly scratchy, and he's already breathless before he even leans into it but you don't mind. You find that his lips slant against yours perfectly and he slides you closer against him on the bench, using the hand he'd placed on your hip to give it a squeeze, eliciting an gasp from you. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth but he pulls away before it can escalate.

You hope to anything listening that he wants to kiss you again, because you're sure he's ruined the touch of everyone else's lips against your skin for you.

"I've been in love with you since I was 5 years old." Roy pressed his lips back to yours in a quick succession of kisses and you're sure that thats a good sign.

"Since you were 5 years old?" He asks, nudging his nose against yours, pressing his lips firmly to yours when they brush slightly as he speaks. "Fuck, did we waste a lot of time."

~*~

Roy's been the manager of Richmond for the last 4 months and you're thankful that there's no football on over Christmas. You get Roy practically all to yourself for three weeks and it's the best feeling ever.

Phoebes still in school until the 22nd, and you live together at Roy's house, so there's no chance Molly will walk in on the two of you or his mum will hear you through the walls - meaning 90% of his first week off work is spent having sex on every surface in the house, in every position imaginable.

The second week off is the main bulk of Christmas. You pick Phoebe up from school on the 22nd and she has a sleep over at your house. The 23rd is spent curled up on your couch, with Phoebe sandwiched between the two of you, watching Christmas movies all day and stuffing your faces with popcorn and hot chocolate. Phoebe spends the night again, and then the three of you drive down to Ms Kent's house at lunchtime on the 24th. Molly comes home from work around 6pm and the 5 of spend the rest of the evening in the living room, watching 'love actually' and 'the polar express,' until it's time for bed. Even though you and Roy have been together for nearly 3 years now, you sleep in Molly's bed with her and Phoebe, reminiscing on the christmas's of your childhood and giggling over them until you fall asleep.

When christmas morning finally comes, you and Molly are the last awake, Phoebe jumping all over the two of you and demanding you get downstairs as soon as possible to see what Father Christmas has left for her. You let Phoebe drag you down stairs even though you're barely awake and you crawl into Roy's lap, in his grandads armchair, at the first opportunity. He's already got a coffee made for you, just the way you like it, and a warm hand that he slips up the back of your tshirt to scratch gently against your skin as you watch Phoebe begin to open her mountain of presents.

"How many of these are from you?" You whisper, feeling Roy smile against your temple as you sip on your coffee, slowly waking up in his arms.

"Enough. They're not all for Pheeb's anyway." Roy picks you up enough to adjust your position in his lap, making it more comfortable for the both of you to sit and talk and watch presents getting opened. "Some for my mum, some for Molly, some for you."

"You're too kind to me, baby." You lean up enough to press a kiss to Roy's lips, ignoring the loud screech Phoebe lets out at the display of affection. "I got some stuff for you under there too, handsome."

"I don't see you under that tree, Father Christmas clearly mustn't have got my list." Even though you're not looking directly at Roy you can feel the smirk that is pulling at his lips.

Before you could comment on what that could possibly mean Phoebe was calling your name, sticking her hand out with a tiny, paper-wrapped box in her palm. "This one's for you, it says it's from uncle Roy!"

"For me, huh? Lets have a look then, shall we Pheeb's?" Phoebe abandoned her half opened pile of gifts to stand beside you, leaning over the arm of the arm chair and over your shoulder to get a prime look at the gift as you opened it. "Thank you, baby."

Roy pinched your hip teasingly, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he intently watched you carefully unfold the wrapping paper. "Open it first, you might not like it. I kept the receipt so... just say the word and we'll get it changed."

"It's from you, Royo, I'm sure I'll love it." You punctuated your words with a kiss to his lips, not realising just how much your words would ring true until you'd fully unwrapped the box; finding a navy blue, velvet ring box and tears in Ms Kent's eyes. "Roy..."

"I spent 36 years of my life not knowing you felt the same way about me as I felt about you." Roy took the box gently from your hold and opened it, taking the dainty and elegant ring from it and holding it between the two of you. "And I don't plan to waste another moment of my life without you by my side."

"Yes."

"Oi, you're supposed to let me fucking ask you first." A laugh bubbled past your lips despite the tears building in your eyes. "Will you make me the happiest man alive, and marry me?"

"Yes." Your hands found Roy's face before his could place the ring on your finger, pulling him into a hot and forceful kiss, tilting his head back with how much you leaned into it, into him. "Yes. Yes. Yes, please."

"You owe me £1, Uncle Roy."

Tears are shed and the rest of the gifts are opened. Christmas dinner goes by without a hitch, and before you know it the days nearly over and you find yourself in Roy's lap, in his grandads armchair, with one bowl of dessert between the two of you, like so many times before. Ms Kent is sat across from the two of you with her own bowl of dessert and she looks like she wants to say something about it. She doesn't, but only because she knows, and she knows that you and Roy know. This day was a long time coming and she's over the moon that it's come in her lifetime.

Roy's love for you was stronger then any will he had to remain stubborn, and after a life time of waiting, he'd finally found his way to you, and she was sure he would find his way to you in every lifetime; even if it took 100 years or breaking a curse. Like she'd told you on that cool September morning, the prince always comes back, and they always live happily ever after. And she was sure the two of you were going to as well.

an : if you made this this far I love you!!! I hope you enjoyed another super long Roy fic, feel free to leave some feedback or what your favourite part of the story was, or even a request from my summer sleepover prompts!! Mwah <333

[yandere-writer-momo]

Baki Christmas continues with Jack Hanma as the Nutcracker! Merry Christmas to @tearslikeglass-blog 🎄

Yujiro as the mouse king is the most cursed thing ever but please bear with me 😭😭 this is loosely based of the Nutcracker Barbie movie.

Yandere Baki Shorts: The Nutcracker

Yandere Nutcracker Jack Hanma x Afab Reader

(Your name)’s aunt had gifted her a nutcracker for Christmas. A simple toy that didn’t seem stellar, but it warmed (your name)’s heart regardless. The wooden figurine was quite large and had on a black and red uniform… the nutcracker had such striking cinnamon eyes and blonde hair… (your name) had never seen a blonde nutcracker before.

“Take good care of him. He’s special.” (Your name)’s aunt winked at her. “He’s a little rough around the edges, but he has the heart of a prince.”

(Your name) chuckled at the memory as her fingers gently combed the blonde tuft of hair on the nutcracker. “A prince, huh?” She gently placed the nutcracker on her nightstand before she retired for the night. The young woman smiled as she drifted off to sleep. If only that were true…

In the early hours of the morning, she woke up to a loud crash coming from the living room. (Your name) quickly sprang up from her bed and ran towards the Christmas tree where her once inanimate nutcracker was now fighting off an ugly mouse with his fists. They brutally punched each other and her nutcracker was losing. The small toy laid on the hardwood floor in defeat. She quickly swooped in and flicked the mouse away from him before he smashed the nutcracker’s face in.

Before she could further assist her nutcracker, a strange magic encased her body and shrunk her down to the size of a mouse. The mouse was now a muscular man with tattered mouse ears atop a mop of messy crimson hair. He gave her a wicked grin and a wink before he scampered off, which caused the nutcracker to punch the ground in anger

“Great… you let him get away.” The nutcracker hissed as he rose up. The blonde looked less like a toy and more like a man. He stood at a massive height and was a wall of pure muscle but he was still made of wood. He was s lot more intimidating up close… “Did he zap all your brains away? Stop staring at me, it’s weird.”

(Your name) quickly composed herself and gave him a bow. “Oh, I’m sorry. You just look more like a man now rather than a toy-“ the blonde scoffed as he waved her off and tried to follow after the mouse king, but the mouse hole didn’t open a portal when the nutcracker walked close to it. “Just great!”

(Your name) walked over to the mouse hole, a bright light now shined into their faces. How on earth was this possible? “It seems we’ll have to travel together to go after him…” (your name) turned to the blonde with a smile. “I’m (your name) by the way.”

The blonde pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He really didn’t need any extra baggage at the moment but it seemed he had no choice but to tag her along so he could get his revenge. “I’m Jack… stay behind me at all times. I don’t need anymore trouble.”

Jack then leapt through the portal, which made (your name) frown. He was such a joy.

“So what is the goal?” (Your name) followed behind Jack who told klong strides ahead of her, his guard never down once. “Is there someone we have to find in order to defeat that mouse?”

“That mouse is my father, Yujiro.” Jack sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose again. “And I have to find the Sugar Plum Fairy so I can become human again. Not that it’s any of your business.” (Your name) sighed as the blonde nutcracker continued to trudge ahead of her through the snow. She shivered from her lack of clothing which made the nutcracker pause mid stride. “Let’s stop at the nearest village for supplies. I don’t want you to be dead when we’re not even halfway to the castle yet.”

What a gentleman. Jack threw his coat around her and scooped her up into the crook of his wooden arms. His wooden body did little to warm her but his coat helped her warm up a bit… he smelled like pine.

The first week together was rough. Jack walked too fast and he was very bossy. Sometimes he’d pick her up by the straps of her backpack and carry her like some sort of purse dog. It was humiliating.

Despite being made of wood, Jack still required sleep and food. She wondered if every part of him was made of wood, but he’d always push her away every time she tried to put her hand over his chest. “Don’t touch me, I bite.”

She did her best to try to get close to her only companion but he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. They had no similar interests… not that Jack shared much about himself. It was like talking to a brick wall that insulted her half the time. It wasn’t uncommon for her to wake up in the morning to see the wooden man vigorously training his wooden body to the point of splintering, but he’d somehow magically repair himself whenever she’d touch him. It was very strange to her and Jack just made it seem like it was something he could do without her… but why didn’t he repair himself prior to her arrival? Maybe she didn’t actually have powers and she was going crazy… yeah, that made sense.

The two spent the next four months together tracking the sugar plum fairy but their search seemed fruitless. (Your name) could tell Jack was getting frustrated when every lead they had lead them to a dead end.

Jack constantly protected her from Yujiro’s minions, but he’d get defensive whenever she thanked him. Sometimes he’d even make comments on how weak she was, which hurt her feelings… she couldn’t wait to finally be away from him. He was so mean

Jack saw her as frail and weak but a part of him couldn’t help but be so protective of her. Perhaps it was because she’s been his only companion in the last few years of his life? Or maybe it was how kind she was to him despite how cold and standoffish he was? Jack didn’t understand himself…

(Your name) tried to be civil with him, even friendly but the wooden man still remained as cold as the frozen wasteland of this world she was trapped in

Jack constantly pushed her away whenever she tried to sit or lay beside him for comfort. He never even thanked her for half the meals she’d cook for the two of them… he was nothing but a brute. She looked forward each day for the day she could return to her world. Where she’d no longer have to be around him

Occasionally he’d carry her bag for her, but it was only so she ‘wouldn’t slow them down.’ Jack was aggravating to be near but (your name) slowly began to stop talking to him unless it was absolutely necessary. Jack wasn’t too happy about this change… not that he’d ever voice it.

The two camped a few miles from Yujiro’s castle. The young woman frowned as she glanced at the dwindling fire. It was finally near the end of their lonely journey together

“I think we only have a little bit of time left together.” (Your name) smiled softly at Jack who grumbled as he ate the soup she made. The blonde as stiff as ever. (Your name) sighed as she held her knees to her chest. “I’m looking forward to finally going home.”

Jack froze as he glanced over at her solemn form, his cinnamon eyes narrowed at her. He didn’t say a word as she shuffled to wrap her blanket around herself to sleep for the night. She didn’t utter a single good night like she used to and it upset him a bit. She would be going home wouldn’t she? Jack knew he should be happy about it, he’s wanted to be rid of her since the day they started this journey together… so why did a part of him not want her to leave?

Jack almost audibly gasped when he felt his heart beat for the first time in years since he’s became a nutcracker. Why was his heart beating again? Jack didn’t understand the feelings he felt in this moment. He felt so strange, it was a feeling he hadn’t felt since he was a child… he couldn’t be in love with her, right?

(Your name) noticed the smallest of changes in Jack. He’d stand closer to her whenever they’d travel on foot, he even began to carry her in the crook of his arm so she’d ’stop being so slow.’ She appreciated it but she was also a bit frustrated with his treatment of her. Why did Jack always make her feel so useless?

After another week of awkward travel together, they finally arrived at the castle. Jack set her down and charged straight for Yujiro in a fit of rage. His fist swung harshly into the mouse king’s face, but Yujiro only smirked at him. “All these months after me and you’re still so weak.”

(Your name) watched Jack continue to punch Yujiro despite the way his wooden arms began to splinter from the force he used. (Your name) nearly cried when Yujiro grabbed Jack by the scruff of his neck and threw him against the wall. The terrifying man turned to wickedly smile at (your name) who shivered in fear. “See? At least one of you know your place.”

Yujiro walked over to Jack, a cruel smile on his lips as he held his hand up high to crush the nutcracker once and for all but (your name) rushed forward and threw her body between them. A bright flash of light shined over them as Yujiro was reduced to the form of a mere mouse and Jack was now a man.

The blonde quickly sat up in disbelief as he reached out to crush the mouse in the palm of his hand like a grape. His breathing ragged as he glanced over at (your name) who began to cry.

“Why did you-“ Jack couldn’t utter a word as (your name threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. He remained motionless as his shirt became damp from her tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” (Your name) cried as she clung to him. “I just didn’t want you to die.”

Jack frowned as he wiped the mouse guts onto his pants so he could hold her. His heart hammered in his chest as he pulled her close. She cared about him? But he was so mean to her…

This whole time she was the sugar plum fairy, she was the one who was able to help him defeat his evil father… how could he be so blind to it all? Of course she was the sugar plum fairy… which meant she was destined to be with him right? They were meant to be together.

Jack buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent. Had she always been this small and warm? So frail… she needed him to keep her safe.

(Your name) glanced over at the portal that opened up before them, one that was just like the one they leapt through all those months ago… she could go home.

(Your name) tried to pull away but Jack held her even tighter like a boa constrictor. “Don’t go.” He whispered as he shook like a leaf. He didn’t want her to leave… he didn’t want to be alone again. “You could stay here with me in this castle. You could be a princess.”

(Your name) frowned. She didn’t want to be in this world any longer and certainly not with Jack. It didn’t seem like he was able to make up his mind about how he felt about her until it was too late.

“Jack… I’m going to head home now-“ Jack suddenly pulled away, his cinnamon eyes stared deeply into hers. “This is your home.”

[sokkastyles]

AU where Aang is never freed from the iceberg but Katara finally sees her chance to go North to learn waterbending when a lone ship sails near her village one day. She smuggles herself aboard the ship, but only realizes after she sees the worn crimson uniforms of the soldiers that this is a Fire Nation vessel, and gradually learns that the captain is actually an exiled fire nation prince, which explains why this run down ship is by itself in the middle of the arctic.

Katara gradually learns more about Zuko by observing him from hiding, while Zuko becomes increasingly perplexed at why things seem to keep going missing around the ship, food supplies and blankets and little odds and ends. At first, Katara thinks she'll get off at the first Earth Kingdom port they come to, but then she thinks that this is her opportunity to sabotage whatever the Fire Nation is up to. She witnesses Zuko's tenuous hold on his men, though, and the way he's treated like a pariah by the other FN officers, this prince who is really no more than a boy close to her own age, and learns the story of his scar, and she can't help but wonder about him.

One day, she surprises him in his cabin, with an icicle at his throat, and ends up making a deal with him. He agrees to take her North in exchange for his life. Zuko at first tells himself he'll be glad when he's rid of her, but gradually the two form an odd, tentative truce.

When they get to the Northern Water Tribe, Zuko's ship rendezvous with and is betrayed by Zhao, who plans to invade like in canon. Zuko ends up captured by the Northern Water Tribe, and Katara finds herself in the odd position of having to vouch for him, this boy who she's seen enough of to believe that he might be the one to help end the war.

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

Hopefully I'm not too late! Congrats on all of the followers! 🥳 Could I request Diavolo fucking his darling before a meeting like right next to the student council room because he's been jealous of all of the time Darling has been spending with the brothers so he wants to breed her sort of in public? Maybe in demon form if I can he greedy lol

Normally he can keep his cool and avoid feeling too jealous when Darling is spending time with the others, but...that's before he saw Mammon, Asmodeus, AND Beelzebub put their hands on Darling so casually while they were all talking. He hasn't formally claimed her yet, but he still has made it fairly obvious that he's "fond" of her.

He wanted to court her formally and claim her as a mate, but his status as Prince of the Devildom means he has to be very careful about who he chooses to declare that kind of bond to. And he loves Darling, but she's still a human. The scandal it would cause would be a nightmare, assuming the Council even allowed it.

But when he sees her being touched and teased so affectionately by the brothers, it lights a fire in him. Darling is always saying he needs to put aside his obligations and take care of himself, right? So now, he's going to.

He summons her for a brief conversation before the next Council Meeting, and he can't help but grin to himself when his little ruse works. He loves being a little mischievous and, well, devilish. Especially when it means he'll get to be with Darling and claim her in an informal (but just as wonderful) way

Once she's in the room, he quickly uses magic to lock the door and put his arms around her. He asks if she knows about the scrutiny he would receive if he ever publicly took a mate and claimed a consort? Surely, she'd rather be claimed by one of the brothers--or all of them at once. They certainly want that, considering how much they like to touch her and keep her for themselves. And with how happily she lets them act that way, she must prefer them over him.

He would promise to change her mind and be selfish, just like she's always encouraging him to be when he's swamped with work and needs some relaxation--some release. If only she knew what he was imagining whenever she said that...

He'd finally lose all sense of control and pin her against the wall, kissing her and unconsciously reverting to his Demon Form now that he finally has her where he wants her. Now that he's not in his uniform, his hard-on is pressing against Darling's clothes before he literally tears their clothes off. Darling's only ever seen Beel act like this when he's on a rampage from hunger, and Diavolo loves seeing how vulnerable yet excited his little lamb is.

He's a demon, but he isn't heartless. So before taking care of his own needs, he lays her down on the Rune Inscribing practice desk nearby and covertly casts a spell to make the walls easier to hear through with one hand while he starts to knead her breast with the other.

He can't tell if the taste of her divine cunt is what's making him pant like an animal or if it's the knowledge that everyone can hear her moaning his name and squealing around his tongue.

He only moves his mouth away to kiss her just as she's about to cum, just to tease her. It's cruel, but he needs to make her say just one thing before he fucks them senseless:

"Tell me...who do you belong with? Who do you belong TO? Say it, loud enough for the entire kingdom to hear."

He knows Barbatos will scold him for being so late, especially for such a selfish and foolish reason, but he doesn't care. Fuck his obligations, fuck the Council, and fuck everything and everyone that would get between him and Darling!

Now that he's finally doing this, he's absolutely shameless and confessing every little thought he's had about her: he wants her as his consort, his princess, his mate... she'll look even lovelier than she already does with his cum dripping out of her and his soul bound to hers in the form of a lovely little seal magically tattooed to her. Where should he put it? His hands wander to trace and pinch her soft skin as he rocks into her. This spot on the stomach is the most common, but what about the curve of her rear end? The inside of her silky thighs? Between her breasts? Fuck, she's lovely.

He's praising her in between moans and growls for taking his cock so well. Humans are such small, delicate creatures, but her walls are a perfect fit for him. He bends her thighs up and fucks her so roughly that the stone legs of the table are rattling as he chases his high and finally fills her up. He kisses and gently bites her neck as she screams his name, and his eyes are glowing as he imagines the look on the brothers' faces knowing that he claimed her before any of them. Even if they put their jealousy aside and all of them agreed to take part in a formal group claiming ceremony, they'll always know that he was STILL the first demon to taste and embrace her.

[nat-ter]

superbat fic idea: alternate first meeting(s). misunderstanding. before batman and superman meet officially, superman has met bruce wayne, batman has met clark kent and bruce wayne and clark kent sorta, kinda meet.

when superman first meets bruce wayne it's not at a gala. nor is it a rescue mission. at least not the heavy duty kind. superman does rescue bruce from a particularly hard wedgie. the thing is, superman finds bruce wayne hanging in mid air, off of a fire escape, where his underwear has wedge itself between a crack in the iron bars; in an unassuming alleyway where superman has flown in to change into his civillian identity. bruce wayne, prince of gotham, the billionaire playboy himself, immediately stops his fumbling to pull himself off and just stares at the superhero who's in the middle of pulling at the sleeve of his uniform to take it off.

"uhh," says superman eloquently who's thoroughly gobsmacked to see bruce wayne hanging off of a fire escape in metropolis. by his underwear nonetheless.

"hi," says bruce wayne, breathless and with a wave of his hand, who then immediately winces in pain when the movement of his hand sway him left and right and subsequently further hikes his underwear right up a place where no boxer briefs should ever go that deep.

"are you okay?" asks superman tentatively.

"you know what? not really." huffs bruce wayne in annoyance, red in the face. "can you help me down?"

when asked, bruce says that he was running from a group of fangirls and climbing up the fire escape to, well, escape them but then he fell off and got caught by his... well. he looks so embarrassed and superman is so uncomfortable that clark kent, investigative journalist, immediately believes it without a doubt.

a few weeks later clark kent meets batman at a gala in gotham which also happens to be the one taken over by a particularly pissed one poison ivy who is apparently set on testing out her new invention on gotham's finest. which just makes people very, very horny (she has only wanted to shame the rich who's been a pain in the ass for her dearest plants for her evening amusement, nothing more). it happens so fast even if superman happened to be there in his civillian identity he wouldn't get the chance to do anything without compromising his identity, never mind that everyone is going at it like crazed rabbits. not that superman is there, of course. so batman stands there, in the middle of the biggest orgy he has ever seen, face to face with a dorky man who wears an equally dorky glasses.

the thing is, the dorky man is previously engaged in an intense tug of war with two highclass women trying to get the bottom half of him naked. he's been pleading with his whole body for the women to stop trying to pull his underwear down which is currently tethering on getting completely ruined to shred and is also the only thing standing between his dignity and the whole world (or room). but when batman comes crashing in the man is so startled to see the dark knight so suddenly and up close he's gone completely lax and the next second the two women managed to pull the offending cloth down his thighs to pool at his ankles along with his slacks, the man himself gaping like a fish. batman doesn't know what wakes him from the trance but maybe it has something to do with the limp dick swaying left and right in front of him. after that everything goes to shit and there isn't really a time to ask questions about why clark kent, according to his press badge he's still wearing around his neck, looks way too lucid for someone who's supposed to be under poison ivy's influence. perhaps unceremoniously seeing a man's dick will do that to you.

the first time bruce wayne and clark kent officially met, the two men still vividly remember what they have seen of the other with their alter ego, they couldn't even look each other in the eye and avoid each other for the entire evening. bruce wayne is by no means a prude and while he has seen his fair share of dicks, he doesn't think it's fair to subject clark kent to stare at the face of a man (bat. wtv) who has rescued him and subsequently seen his dick without the man having no clue. and it's not that clark kent is exactly unfamiliar with uncomfortable situations, after all it comes with the whole hero schtick, but while he maybe be a nigh invincible superhero, he's still human (loosely speaking) and there's only so much he can do before bursting out into a completely inappropriate laughter right in the face of a man who doesn't even know that the fumbling reporter is the one who helped soothe the cloth burn on his ass not long ago.

superman avoids batman because the man has seen his dick for pete's sake even if he doesn't know that clark kent is superman and there's no way clark can look at him in the eye and pretend that that didn't happen. batman avoids superman because you don't just recover from a god seeing you giving yourself a wedgie even if it was completely an accident and it doesn't really matter that said god doesn't know that the man he's seen at one of his lowest (bruce has many) is the batman.

except two is always better than one when it comes to the threat of the world at large and you can bet your pretty ass the interaction is as stilted and awkward as you can imagine.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒃𝒆𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅

week 1 - day 2 - kinktober - glory hole and corruption/innocence - jock jake wyler x naive reader.

warning - glory hole and corruption/innocence.

kinktober masterlist

18+ only please, the gifs and headers aren’t mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Jake watches the cute little female through the hole in the stall wall as she lathers herself with soap, his cock twitching as his eyes land on her hard nipples and soft plumb breasts, then slowly trailing down to her cute little cunt.

When Jake decided to take a shower after PE, he wasn’t expecting to be greeted with such a beautiful and arousing sight. He groans softly, his cock growing in his football uniform as you slip a hand between your legs and start rubbing your little pussy. Soft moans fall from your innocent lips, not understanding the pleasure but continuing to cause it.

He slowly takes his cock out of his pants, giving his cock a tight squeeze before rubbing his tip and using the pre-cum that leaks out as lube. Jake watches you throw your head back and grind down onto your hand as cute moans fall from your lips, stroking his cock slowly, giving a rough squeeze here and there before a bright idea pops into his head, and a mischievous smile makes way on his face.

He notices another hole, big enough to fit his fat cock through. He sticks it through the hole and hears a gasp before a small voice follows, “what’s that?” the words that leave Y/n’s mouth cause his cock to twitch, and another gasp escapes her, “It’s a lollipop, princess. I noticed you having some trouble cleaning yourself.” Jake watches her shuffle over cautiously before her hand tentatively reaches out and touches the tip of his cock, causing him to let out a slight moan.

“This– this will help?” Her timid voice lets out, softly touching it. Jake’s head lolls back, softly cursing under his breath. “Yes, princess. First, you must make it wet with your mouth before I clean your insides with my special cream.” A small whine escapes her, and a confused huff leaves her lips.

“What’s wrong, princess? Don’t you want my special cream?” Jake’s starting to grow impatient as his cock is hard as a rock and begging for release.

“I– I do, I just… don’t know how.” Jake has to hold himself back from cumming, as that’s possibly the hottest thing he’s ever heard. “It’s okay, princess, just get onto your knees and wrap those plump lips of yours around it.” She gets onto her knees, opening her mouth and wraps her lips around Jake's thick cock, and a moan leaves her, causing Jake to find something to grip on to as the vibrations and feel of her mouth makes him want to lose control.

“Suck, princess. Remember, gotta get this lollipop nice and wet, or your going to be dirty.” 

She starts to suck, swirling her tongue around the tip of his cock before sinking down the base, gagging when she reaches the end. Starting to go to town on what she thought was a lollipop, drooling all over it, making a mess on his cock. Drenching it with her saliva, wanting to impress the mystery man. On the other side, Jake is holding on for dear life, moans slip from his lips as his eyes roll to the back of his head, his cock twitching wildly. Trying to hold back from cumming down her throat, wanting to save it for her sweet little cunt as she sucks him off, he reaches down and plays with his heavy balls, squeezing them.

“Oh– oh fuck, princes– oh, baby, it’s wet enough now.” He groans out, feeling like he’s died and gone to heaven. She stops, sitting back on her legs, “did– did I do something wrong?” Jake takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. 

“No, princess, it’s time to clean you now and fill you with my special cream. I want you to stand, back facing me and put the lollipop in that cute little hole of yours.” She stands, confused about how that will fit inside of her, only being able to fit a few fingers in before.

Jake watches as she faces her back to him, his eyes landing on her plump ass before watching as she reaches under and grabs her lollipop, rubbing it against her slit. Her eyes roll as his tip hits her little button, and her tongue pokes out as she focuses on putting it inside her cunt. Jake can feel her, desperately wanting this wall to disappear so he can just push her against another and destroy her. 

His cock is slowly pushed into her tiny hole, leaking onto him. It’s such a tight squeeze Jake can feel himself close to cumming again. Once he’s bottomed out inside her, he squeezes his eyes shut, and a small whimper leaves her lips as his thick cock stretches her walls.

Jake bites his lip when he feels her walls pulsing around him, squeezing his cock. “N–now what do I do?” her innocence makes him want to fuck it out of her, “just move back and forth, princess.” Slowly he starts to feel her move back and forth. Jake peeks through the hole level with his eyes and watches her tiny form bounce on his thick cock. Eyes trail down her spine and land on her cute pussy, Biting his bottom lip as he watches her small hole try and take all of him.

His cock nearly comes out before she slams herself back. A shattered moan leaves her lips, eyes crossed, tongue poking out as she continues to fuck herself onto Jake’s lollipop.

Jake bites his knuckles. The tightness of her walls is driving him crazy. The soft little moans and whines that leave her lips make him nearly combust, “that’s it, princess. You’re doing so well, and you’ll be so clean.” Jake moans out, watching Y/n fasten her pace and feel her pulse around his cock at his praise. Her little pussy leaks with her juices, his cock hitting the hidden spot inside her. Y/n’s brain goes dumb from this intense pleasure Jake's cock is giving her.

“Fuck, princess. You’re so soft. Keep going. You can take it.” He stammers as she bounces on his cock, “such ah– such a good lollipop– daddy.” The name slips out as she’s deep in pleasure. Jake's eyes widen as his cock twitches wildly, doing his best to thrust into her from his position. “Fuck– fuck, get ready, princess. I’m so close, don’t stop if you want my cream, sweety.” Her pussy clenches around him, feeling a tightening in her stomach and pleasure that cause her toes to curl.

Not stopping, she tries to go faster as the coil snaps, and she lets out a pornographic moan. Her walls clench tightly around Jake’s cock, not letting him go as she cums. Her cream coating him all over, Jake’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he explodes, her sweet little cunt milking him dry. Jake’s cock is so deep inside of her that his cum floods her womb, being too much for her tiny hole. It starts to flow out of her. Y/n feels sensitive and weak as Jake’s cock slips out of her and her knees wobble, sliding to the ground. Her small hand moves to where his cream flows out, scooping some up with two fingers. She brings them up to her mouth and moans.

Jake watches her do this and feels his cock harden again. He swears he could’ve cum again from the sight and the words slipping past her mouth.

“Mmmm tastes like candy, daddy. Can I have more, please?” Y/n continues to scoop up the remaining cum that flows out of her and sucks it off her fingers, growing wetter by the second.

…Let’s just say…. All of her holes were overflowing with his cream.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!