#without feeling ogled at every turn

[comfortfrogblog]

so i went inactive here because life got busy as i finished high school, and then i started posting about autism on instagram in my senior year and just random things and i kind of amassed a huge following after a year and i learned so many things about myself and the world (some good and some bad) and i’ve grown a lot. but that’s over now because there is a lot of the world that is scary and bad and it’s hard to be vulnerable for that long in front of an audience and i frankly got sick of it and my body and mind became sick of it too. there were so many good people and i built a good comfy community of neurodivergents and such, but it’s still impossible to filter out the bad noise. then there was the fact that i was a young girl being pushed into the feeds of men aged 18-35, with only less than 9% of my audience being female, so that made it strange and parasocial with most of the people who were watching me. so in case you ever need anyone to tell you that blowing up on social media with your face is not as good a time as you may think, listen to me! i can tell you many stories that will make you very certain you do not want to post on big social media if you were not sure before!

so hey im back maybe and i may start comfyposting here again, or at least reblogging good stuff. there are still so many things in my inbox that i never got to answer, and even recent things—i’ve read them all. i apologize that i can’t answer at the moment or at all, but i see you. it’s still always a place you can dump thoughts and burdens, just to know someone sees it and is thinking of you, even for a minute.

here’s to tumblr’s beautiful anonymity. here’s to the comfort of being Social on Media without the horrible parts. i love tumblr so much. tumblr i love you

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: spending a gentle morning with your boyfriend, bucky barnes.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bucky barnes x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.2K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), established relationship, post-thunderbolts bucky, lots of fluff, soft!bucky, making out, thigh-grabbing, bucky is a little flirt, morning sex, oral sex (fem!rec), cunnilingus, female orgasm.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: so this is my first time writing for bucky despite being obsessed with him for 10+ years (please be gentle & feedback would be really appreciated!) I typically write him as more soft & a service top instead of rough, so hopefully this doesn’t turn people off. anyway, I hope you all enjoy! 🫶

Before the sun splits through a violet twilight, cresting over darkness and into dawn, Bucky is wide awake, smoothing one palm over his grizzled countenance.

It’s too early; though, it’s become something of a normality for him, waking up before the first light of daybreak. Muscles ache with the heaviness of sleep, coiled into knots, still echoing with soreness from a mission days ago.

A five o’clock shadow clings to his jaw, brunette tresses longer, bedraggled by slumber. A shallow exhale simpers from his lungs, slow and steady, something that grounds him to his surroundings.

Save for the pale glow of the light glittering above the headboard, his room is shrouded by an inky black, bathroom door left ajar.

Peering through the dim illumination, his gaze searches for you, back turned to him, swaddled in the comforter; leaving only a sliver for him. A soft huff splits past his lips, knowing that you can’t sleep unless you’ve got a blanket.

Even when the temperature gets sweltering and summertime swings through with a vicious humidity, you’re typically bundled in the sheets, covered, unwilling to go without it. He’s conceded to sleeping with a fourth of the blanket.

A low noise reverberates through your body, swallowed whole by the pillow as you turn, comforter tucked to your collar, now facing him.

Scrunched with slumber, you’re still sound asleep, curled comfortably beside the pillow. You’re huddled tightly beneath the blanket, a tangle of limbs, warm to the touch.

Ritualistic, Bucky’s often ogling you each morning, mapping out every detail that rests within your countenance, finding beauty in everything. Every time the sun comes up, he’s searching for you, drinking you in again and again.

You’re the first thing he sees when dawn splits dusk — the best thing he sees.

You only get prettier with each passing morning, with every sunrise, prompting his heart to gallop beneath his sternum, unable to smother his smile.

If someone told him years ago that he would’ve ended up with you, he would’ve scoffed at the notion; unlovable, unworthy — he’d changed his outlook drastically.

There’s something inherently soft about your relationship — pure, clean, built on a foundation of mutual trust and protection. Bucky never experienced soft, save for the forties; now, he was able to rest.

Unconsciously, you stir, crawling closer until your body wedges into his arm, flesh and blood, bicep firm as he adjusts, bringing you against his side. Still muddled by the haze of sleep, you exhale, cheek pressed into his shoulder.

He smooths a feather-light kiss to your crown, gaze drifting toward the ceiling; nondescript, too modern. The massive undertaking of renovating the former Avengers Tower was met with mild resistance from the team — plenty of needless additions, too.

The training room is entirely too large for how many people live in the tower — a meager seven, unless Valentina intended on recruiting. There’s buttons on the sofa in the common lounge, and he’s still uncertain of what they do.

Sometimes, it all feels too new, too sprawling — he’s always enjoyed the simpler things in life, the rustic and the unappealing.

Hushed, Bucky steals another glance, gaze fluttering over your visage, over the strands of loose tresses that stick to your temples. He sweeps them aside, vibranium arm a kiss of ice to your warm skin.

Slowly, he begins to shuffle, gently easing you aside and into the pillow, muscles stiff as he rolls to perch along the edge of your bed.

Dawn unfurls somewhere beyond the horizon, tendrils of muted orange whispering through the eventide. A soft groan slips from his lips, body still recuperating from a mission days ago, bruises bone-deep.

Early to rise before anyone else, he stretches, reaching for a black undershirt, dog tags sparkling through slivers of light. Tugging the fabric over his head, he trails toward your bathroom, making for the sink.

Palms splay flat over smooth granite, mirror revealing a rugged countenance, tresses disheveled. A tangle of scars lay where vibranium kissed flesh — old wounds, old memories interlaced into his skin.

Formed by him attempting to claw at the metal, they were a remnant of a ghost, a spectre he’d left behind. It was the piece of him that had healed entirely, leaving behind mere wisps — Bucky wasn’t him anymore.

The Winter Soldier was no more, only present in a name, a stranger left within the recesses of his mind; lingering still, no longer important.

Nightmares still nipped at his heels, less intense than they used to be, but still prevalent. There’s brighter days ahead when you’re around, presence comforting, able to soothe him without effort.

Screwing the knob of the sink, a rush of cold water tumbles from the spout, filling the basin with icy liquid. Dipping his vibranium hand beneath, he splashes a barrage of water against his face, a brief shock to the system, cooling over warm skin.

Droplets of water rolled over his chin as he scooped another handful into his mouth, allowing it to soothe his dry throat. A comfortable hush echoes through his room; it’s tranquil.

In the mirror’s reflection, he spots your writhing body, adjusting again, but this time, you’re awake. Through furrowed brows and mild confusion, you’re humming, limbs uncoiling, searching for Bucky.

“Bucky?” Through a barely-audible murmur, you notice the empty space beside you, indent still warm where a body once lay. With a low groan, you sit up, groggy as you blink to try and rid yourself of the sleep-induced haze.

Lingering in the doorway, Bucky makes himself known, bathed in blanched light from the bathroom, as if he’s caught in some glow. “Morning.” He drawls, his smile lilting into something lopsided, warm.

With a smile, you rub at your eyes, peering toward your phone, the time flashing up at you. It’s only ten-past-six, typically too early for you, but not for him. “Hi,” Wiping the blur from your sight, you shuffle beneath the comforter. “You okay?”

Bucky nods, reassuring as he dries off his metallic hand with a towel, watching you as if you’re the center of everything; you are. “Early riser,” He muses, head tilting to one side. “You can go back to bed.” He assures.

“I’m awake now,” You protest, squinting as you allow yourself a moment to adjust. Sleep’s thick fog still clouds your mind like a haze of steam, prompting you to stretch out your arms. “I might as well stay up.”

Through a half-sleepy smile, you comb your fingers over your crown, hand dropping to your side as you lay back down. Knowing that Bucky is up and will continue to stay awake prompts you to do the same, hands folding over your abdomen.

With a soft chuckle, he turns, tossing the towel back onto the rungs before crossing the threshold to your bed, sinking back down beside you. The black undershirt and silvery gleam of his dog tags is a good look for him — he’s handsome.

Swiveling around, you turn to face him, tucking one arm beneath your head, a smile still curling at the corners of your mouth. Instead of saying anything, you’re gawking, ogling him as if he’s the center of your universe.

Bucky can feel your gaze on him, and he turns, brows slightly furrowed, a half-smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “What’s wrong?” He rumbles, softening at the sight of you.

You’re breathtaking, exhilarating; he still can’t believe that you’re with him after all this time, steadfastly by his side. He feels your hand trace over his bicep, leaving fire in your wake, prompting him to inhale.

“Nothing, just … You’re pretty,” The tender cadence of your remark evokes a chuckle from him, nose briefly wrinkling, brows furrowing. “I’m being serious.” You assert, cheek nudging over his shoulder.

“I know,” Bucky counters, rolling over on his side to mimic your position, cool vibranium brushing over the exposed flesh of your hip. A metal thumb caresses circles over your hipbone, enough to make your breath catch. “Supposed to be telling you that.”

Ardor oozes from his gaze, cerulean hues traveling over the delicate slope of your jaw, across your body, which happens to be clad in one of his shirts. After being The Winter Soldier for a lifetime, Bucky has become exceedingly gentle.

Being callous, cruel, rough; it isn’t ingrained into his codex anymore, he doesn’t want it to be. Your presence evokes the gentler feelings, ones that he prefers to let guide him over anything else.

“We can tell each other,” You level with him, fingertips snaring over his dog-tags, nail tracing over the indents on the metal. “Did you sleep well, at least?” A tender hush wraps around your cadence, a soothing lull.

Bucky huffs, a light smile toying at the corners of his mouth, metallic digits still circling your skin. Gooseflesh spawns in the wake of his touch, spreading like wildfire across your spine.

“Yeah,” He muses, unable to peel his eyes away from you, gaze softening whenever you smile. Rest is better with you around — he feels safe, more aware of his surroundings. “Did you? Sorry for waking you up.”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you’re dismissive of his apology, digits gliding toward the collar of his undershirt. The constant touching is assuring to Bucky, something grounding. “Don’t be sorry. This is nice, being up together.”

Optimism has always been your strongest attribute, and he concedes, finding contentment in the smaller moments like these. “It is,” He hums in agreement, metal fingers smoothing over your waist. “You’re so beautiful.”

A scoff erupts from your mouth, as if he’s said something outlandish. “I think you’re still asleep or something,” You tease, feeling rather disheveled, undeserving of his compliment. “Like this, all messy from sleeping?”

Bucky’s brows momentarily furrow, mouth agape to make room for a quizzical chuckle. “Exactly like this,” Insistent, he takes a swipe at your brief moment of self-deprecation, dismantling it with ease. “You’re always beautiful.”

A droning groan slips past your mouth as you descend against the mattress, sprawling out, limbs somewhat untangled from the comforter. “Thank you.” Through a soft mumble, you feel your skin crawl with a constant warmth.

Biting back a grin, he shifts closer, propped up on his side, vibranium palm kissing your thigh, a burst of lce to your flesh. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” He murmurs, tone droning at a husky octave. “Getting shy on me?” He’s teasing you, now.

“Bucky,” In a feeble attempt to counteract him, your knee nudges against his abdomen, but he isn’t going anywhere. “No, just … You’re really sweet.” You mumble, staving off the bite of embarrassment.

“Hm,” Bucky clicks his tongue, a hint of amusement swirling within his eyes. “Sweet, huh?” The pitch of his voice is disarmingly gentle, stirring embers within the pit of your stomach.

Adjusting your leg, your knee sits over his waist, brushing against the fabric of his undershirt. “Very,” You muse, and the flustered feeling begins to dissipate, replaced by elation. “You can’t keep up the tough act with me.”

A ribbing scoff escapes him, faux disbelief creeping over his countenance. He’s so handsome that it hurts, stinging your chest, rousing butterflies within your belly. “Who says that I am?” He remarks, inching closer to you, the distance growing slim.

With a wrinkled nose, your mouth grows into a beam, melting beneath his gaze. He oozes with an effortless charm, one that’s drastically improved since the beginning of your relationship.

Warm fingertips card over your temples, stretching into your hairline as he partially hovers above you, head cocked to one side. You’re mesmerizing, he’s mesmerizing; you’re both awestruck.

He’s gazing at you, hues shamelessly flickering between your doe-eyed stare and the soft curve of your lips. Bucky finds a purpose, a semblance of tranquility within your heart.

The sensation of your palm pressing against his chest barely registers, lost within a labyrinth of you, fingertips roaming over your crown. Your hand sits soundly above his collar, over an old, steady heartbeat — he’s at peace.

Digits climb toward his collar, tracing the metallic chain of his dog-tags, higher still, until you reach the shadowed scruff that covers his jaw.

Bucky exhales, a contented noise that drags through his chest, steady and sure, throat bobbing as he swallows. The quiet is kind — it’s one that he allows himself to settle into, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Words aren’t exchanged, bleeding into the kiss he plants against your lips, nose brushing against yours. A hitch forms within the bottom of your throat, hand splaying over his jaw, involuntarily keening into his touch.

Vibranium tenses over your thigh, cradling, thumb drawing slow circles over the pliant muscle. The sensation is enough to make you quiver with exhilaration, lost within the labyrinth of his lips.

Something incendiary lingers within his kiss, a subdued restraint that he clings to, and you can feel it, too. He savors the feeling, fingertips ghosting along your cheek until he’s cupping your jaw.

With a soft sigh, you’re turning into him, chest brushing against his, other hand drifting to grasp at his bicep. Through a momentary gap, you exhale, warm breath pluming over his lips before you resume the kiss.

Mouths tangle into one another, deepening when he presses closer, slotting a muscled thigh between your legs. Another shiver rolls down your spine, digits tensing over his arm, heart hammering beneath your breast.

He’s deliberate, attentive; Bucky kisses you as if you’re the center of everything, tender as it stretches on for several moments. Kisses edge with something desirous, and you withdraw to catch your breath, visibly smitten.

Your head descends against the pillow, fingers flexing near the nape of his neck, toying with the brunette tresses there. “Could you wake me up like this every morning?” You mumble, lips curling into a smile.

Bucky huffs, mirroring your countenance as his hand still caresses over your leg, beginning to slip towards your hip. “All you gotta do is ask, sweetheart.” He affirms, still close to you.

The affectionate nickname fills you with a thinly-veiled delight, eyelashes kissing the skin beneath your eyes. “Noted.” With a gentle hum, you’re wanting to kiss him again.

“I have something else in-mind, if you’re willing.” Bucky chimes, cadence husky, curling around you like some pleasant haze. He kisses your jaw as if to hint at what he wants; you’re more than willing.

“Enlighten me.” Breathless, you’re attempting to pass as collected, calm, but when icy metal begins to tease the waistband of your shorts, your resolve wavers. His lips travel over the slope of your jaw, sluggish, as if he’s exploring.

Slivers of orange crest the horizon, fracturing dusk with pooling light. It’s still early, early enough for the both of you to hide within the shadows for a little while longer, before everyone else stirs.

Bucky shifts, now positioned between your legs, musculature taking up a decent amount of space. A sigh bubbles within your throat, hands clamoring to perch atop his shoulders.

His mouth works at you still, drifting from your jaw to the silky expanse of your throat, scruffy beard scratching pleasantly against your skin. A delighted half-whine splits your diaphragm, flesh burning with a newfound heat.

“Bucky …” A throaty moan floats from your lips, feeling his fingers curl into the hem of your shirt, gently easing it up towards your chest. Brisk air drifts over your exposed skin, gooseflesh erupting in its wake.

Each kiss makes you feel weightless, as if your bones have turned to molten liquid, stomach churning with anticipation.

After another string of kisses brand your throat, he descends, mouth ghosting below your breasts. His visage prickled over your ribs, sending a brief shiver of anticipation through you.

Cerulean hues flicker toward your face, vibranium hand pressed firm to the mattress, hovering beside your waist. Lips peppered themselves across your stomach, traveling to your hipbones before ascending again, a lackadaisical pattern.

Every kiss possessed meaning, a fervent love for you, etched into your skin as his mouth feathered across your lower stomach. He only came to a crawl when he found your waistband, stealing a glance at you.

“This okay?” Bucky inquired, tone a mere purr, husky as warm breath fanned over your abdomen. “It’s been awhile.” He wanted to taste you again, have you writhing against his tongue; he couldn’t help himself.

With an eager nod, you kept your legs parted, shivering when cool metal toyed with the elastic of your undergarments. “Yes,” You huffed, feeling his lips twitch into a smile. “Bucky, please.”

Unwilling to deny you, he nodded, hands curling into the soft cotton of your shorts and panties, easing them down your legs. Knuckles brush over your thighs, calves, until he’s discarding them near the foot of your bed.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Bucky sighs, reverent as he plants a kiss against the inside of your knee. Your breath hitches, words dissolving to ash in your mouth as he kisses a trail toward your thigh.

A familiar heat pools within your belly, arousal coalescing between your legs, thighs shifting together to relieve a sliver of tension. He continues, hunger stirring within him, ravenous.

Careworn palms caressed circles into your thighs, dragging from your haunches toward your knees, and then back again. Sweet kisses buried themselves along soft skin, inching closer toward the slick warmth of your cunt.

He’s methodical, intimate; there isn’t a need to rush into anything, which you’re thankful for. Instead, you savor his lips as they plume over the inside of your thigh, visage marked by a rugged scruff.

Bucky lowers, prone atop the mattress, threading your legs over his broad shoulders. Metal graces the swell of your hip, holding steadfastly as his other hand caresses your thigh.

With a broad stroke of his tongue, he raked hot embers over your core, hands steadying you, eager to please without an ounce of hesitation.

The unexpected surge of pleasure washed over you in an instant, stomach coiled into a knot of tension, mouth slack to make room for a moan. One hand flew to his crown, carding through brunette waves, urging him closer.

“Bucky,” A blissful whine flutters from your lips, goosebumps traveling over your body. He’s too good at pleasing you, and if you let him, he would’ve stayed buried between your thighs for an eternity. “Feels so good.”

A ripple of satisfaction blisters through him, coupled with his own want, but he’s able to put it aside, content to focus on you. He presses a string of kisses to your cunt before alternating with flat strokes of his tongue.

Lurching forward, your hips jolted, urging yourself onto his mouth with a twinge of desperation. His tongue continued to greedily lap at your slit, briefly teasing your entrance.

The tip of his nose brushes along your petals, tongue splitting deeper still, until he vigorously laps at your core. Your taste permeates his mouth, a bittersweet ambrosia that draws him into some wanton haze.

Thighs twitch, tense on either side of his head, not that he minds. Bucky is exceedingly tender with you, savoring your body, vibranium hand soothingly rubbing along your hip.

He can’t get enough, akin to a man drinking greedily from a desert oasis, chin steeped in your arousal. The shadow of his beard scratched against your supple flesh, leaving behind a prickling burn in its wake.

That taut heat within your stomach had been wound so tight, like a coil threatening to snap in two. His mouth was voracious, lapping and kissing wherever he pleased, pinning your hips down whenever you squirmed.

Fingertips perused through his tresses, gripping snugly near the base of his skull, back arched from the mattress. “B—Bucky, please!” A delighted moan rippled through your diaphragm, sending pleasant shivers through his spine.

A tremor gripped your legs, little spasms of delight making their way throughout your body. A sharp groan blossoms throughout his sternum as you incessantly tug upon his dark locks, urging him closer.

Bucky turns, mouth sealing a hot kiss to the inside of your thigh, metal palm kneading into your hip, drawing circles near your pelvis. Through a shadowed stare, he watches your face as it contorts with bliss.

His mouth hotly returns to your cunt, tongue stroking over your core, splitting past your folds. Oozing heat, he trails his lips toward your clit, pressing a lingering kiss over the sensitive clutch of nerves.

As soon as he pursed his lips around your clit, you nearly exploded, thoughts completely derailed, scattered into a blissful abyss. Your body reacted with shivers and tremors, hand gripping at the nape of his neck with a reckless abandon.

Hips surge forward, jolting into the greedy heat of his mouth, and he happily treats you to incessant barrages of his tongue. Shockwaves of pleasure strike at your belly with each stroke.

Absentmindedly, your hand darts to clasp over his vibranium one, chest tight with a flurry of excitement. The gesture is enough to make him shudder, and he continues, ministrations wrought with vigor.

Slurred cries of ecstasy slip past your lips, back arched, keening into any sliver of friction he offers. Your body was wound into knots, and you felt yourself being pushed towards the precipice of your release.

As his lips rolled over your clit again, your knees buckled, ecstasy mounting, electrifying your very veins. He did not cease, tongue stoking the fire, content to lap at your core, the sweetest agony of all.

“Close,” You huff, doing little to mask your cacophony of pleasure, moaning his name as if it’s all you know. Bucky indulges you without any hesitation, mouth pursing around your clit. “T—There, right there.”

A low groan stirred within his chest, reverberating within his throat as he went about teasing your clit, suckling on the bundle of nerves. A spasm passed through you, mouth slack, desperate moans leaving you in droves.

He doesn’t stop nor change pace, metal thumb stroking beside your wrist, the other hand clutching at your haunch. Bucky drags you close, flush, mouth buried against your cunt with such rapture.

Bucky gingerly suckled on your clit, feeling your fingers tighten within his brunette locks, gripping him tight. He wanted you to have your release, built upon this pent-up feeling.

“Come on, sweetheart,” His voice emerges as a husky lull from between your legs, pulling a whimper from your diaphragm. “I’ve got you.” He soothes, tone wrought with a warming tenderness.

He could feel your encroaching release, feel the tension in your grasp, the way you let your hips continue to lurch forward. Another cry of his name falls from your mouth, affectionate.

Without relenting, Bucky continued to suck at your clit, letting it intermingle with hot laps of his tongue, dutiful and fervent between your legs.

That heated coil within your stomach began to unfurl, bringing an onslaught of arousal with it as you bucked into his mouth. Pleasure washed over you in feverish ripples.

At last, your peak consumed you in a white-hot oblivion, and you very nearly saw the stars themselves. Another drawn-out moan crescendoed from your lips, visage contorted into sheer bliss, hand loosing from his hair.

Bucky slowed, lavishing kisses to your cunt as you shivered, body awash with a burning ecstasy. Spots still floated behind your eyes, heart hammering within your chest, blissed-out.

Withdrawing, he pressed a string of kisses over your inner thighs, which still twitched from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Planting another kiss to the crook of your knee, he sat back, chin glistening with your slick.

Left to recuperate, you were hot, as if you were bitten by a fever. Smitten, you searched for your panties, rubbing at the back of your neck. “That was amazing.” You sighed, as if it were the first time all over again.

Dragging his tongue over his bottom lip, Bucky ran a hand over his chin, a charming smile molding to his features. “I’d be worried if it was anything but.” He remarks, a hint of confident charm creeping in.

Before the ice, before the fall, Bucky was renowned for having a suave, gallant demeanor. He had it still, relearning what it all meant, and he enjoyed making you flustered.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Barnes.” You mumble, lashes fluttering as he wordlessly slips your panties back on, letting you tug them the rest of the way.

Daybreak slips through the windows, an ember-orange that slivers over your shared bed, painting him in some euphoric glow.

Bucky slinks forward again, wedged between your legs, vibranium hand firm atop the pillow. “Am I?” His smile warms your insides, and he exhales when your fingers find his face, cradling his jaw within your hands.

Hushed, he bends to kiss you, a gentle action threaded with heat. The kiss is clean, passionate — he handles you with care, and you make sure to do the same; it’s what he deserves.

“A little bit,” Mesmerized, you reciprocate his kiss, clinging to him like an anchor, foreheads dipping to brush against one another. When dawn strikes you both, your nose wrinkles. “Good morning, Bucky.”

“Morning.” He murmurs, lips stilling as he plants a kiss over your jaw. He gazes at you with ardor, and he knows that with every sunrise, he loves you just a little more.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (gym owner+ your personal trainer Simon)

Simon notices you the moment you step into the gym. nervous, pretty, looked entirely out of place. He greets you with a nod and a gruff “Hello” when you saunter to the counter and look up at him timidly. Gleaming doe eyes meeting his and a bit intimidated by his presence.

“I want…want to sign up for the course…” your voice comes out soft and quiet, still a bit scared by the wall of man in front of you. His lips curl upward slightly, though his schedule is pretty tight already, but he doesn’t mind squeezing time out just for a cute and beautiful girl like you.

“The only time I’m free now is 21:00.” Simon said, asking if you’re okay with it, and you agree without a doubt. This is the gym closest to your place, and has the highest rating among others, you don’t mind if the session will start a bit later in the night.

He’s a great personal trainer, like the what the comments say on the internet. He’s meticulous, knows how to effectively improve your stance. You’re not sure if it’s normal for personal trainers to stand this close when you’re squatting, so close that you can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath fanning on the nape of your neck. maybe he just wants to make sure you won’t accidentally hurt yourself, you think to yourself after few sessions with him.

Simon can’t forget the first session, you step into the gym with the sports bra and gym shorts, hair tied into a high bun that shows off your flawless neck, he wonders how smooth it will feel when he runs his fingers along it. His chest touches your rear when you’re lifting weights, “In case your grip slips.” He tells you when he sees the confusion in your eyes. His eyes glued on your hips when you just finished few reps of lying leg curls, ass cheeks so nice and supple, you breathe a bit fast as you keep lying on the training machine, unaware of him try not to form a boner from ogling at your moist lips and the contours of your body.

You’re a bit frustrated with the progress you made so far, asking him if you’re not working hard enough. Your slight pout is too adorable, and he resists the urge not to swipe his thumb over your bottom lip. “You’re doing alright, give your body some time to build muscles.” Simon reassures you, but he can still see the chagrin on your face. You’re stressed out, he can tell, and as your personal trainer, it’s his job to help his student unwind, yeah?

The disappointment and anxiety are thrown to the back of your mind when he sits on the bench in front of the mirror, two fingers deep inside you, twirling and pressing the gooey spots with you moaning on his lap.

“Look at the mirror, sweetheart, look how beautiful you look when your little pussy’s swallowing my fingers.” His other hand move to your chin, turn your head towards the mirror. You can see his smug smile even with that disposable mask on, his fingers shoved deep into your cunt, bring out your profuse juices when he drags his fingers out. The scene is too embarrassing, your cheeks flush with arousal and shyness when you shift your gaze away from the mirror.

“Look at the mirror, love.” His tongue clicks twice, tone firm without any space for you to reject, so you obediently look back, let out a high-pitched sweet whine as you watch how his cock sinks into your tight cunt, pussy lips pushed aside to fit his fat cock. “Fucking pussy so tight, so perfect…fuck…” He inhales deeply, landing a soft swat on your bum and makes you yelp at the comfortable sting.

He definitely didn’t choose to schedule your session this late, that no one will be in gym except you two, so he can bend you over every surfaces here and fuck you till you squirt all over the nearest wall. His hips never cease, shows you how much stamina and strength he has as the best personal trainer. Pinning you over the machine you did lying leg curls, the angle of the it allows your ass to arch up and let him drive his pierced cock deeper, each piercings knead and glide through your spots one by one every time he slams his hips back.

When your thighs’ twitching even harder than they were after your leg days, you looking up at him with dazed eyes, entirely blissed out from how many mind blowing orgasms he gave you, Simon lifts you up again, easily maneuver you to hook your knees over his elbows, he pushes his cum-drenched dick inside again, still rock hard and ready to wrench yet another release from your heavenly cunny. He walks you to the mirror again, every steps makes his hips bucks and cock thrust up in the force, and all you can do is moan and whimper. “too much, too much Simon…”

But He only huffs out a laughter at your words while he stops in front of the mirror, giving you the full view to the reflection—your fucked dumb expression, thighs spread widely and supported by his strong arms, pussy swollen and clit peaks out from the folds, yet your tight walls still massaging his cock nicely as if you’re trying to please him.

“So perfect, princess. look just right when you’re in my arms.” Simon presses a kiss to your shoulder, adjust his grip and let your weight help him to reach the deepest, the tip of his shaft rest against your cervix. “Let’s have the next round on the leg press machine, yeah? I know you hate doing leg press the most, maybe you’ll be more pliant the next time, because you know how I’ll make you soak that seat after the session ends, hmm?”

[jinxvex]

♱ use me. ♱

(councilor!sevika x freeuse gf!reader + this was a rq so thank you anon!) </3

cw: nsfw content!!, tiny daddy kink, freeuse!!, dom!sevika, sub!reader, degradation, praise, roughness, cervix fucking, doggy, vulgar language/dirty talk, hair pulling, you just wanna b used, + she holds you down/makes you take it! tiny bit of breeding…

you've prayed for times like this—waiting for the day sevika would finally snap and take advantage of having you so dear and close to her. you’re so eager to please her and you’re unashamed. so willing.

your urges grow every day, you see how she comes home stressed and tired after a full day of tolerating the privileged piltie bulllshit she’s undergone from taking on the councilor role. you carelessly ogle her jaw tightening and muscles rippling with tension and a need to release pent up energy. she’s strong, hesitant to ask for guidance, advice, or help. sevika’s strength inspires you.

and it makes you so wet.

one of those days, you attempted to hint to her that you were there in case, y’know, she wanted to throw you around and use your body until you pass out, but it seemed as though she didn’t get the hint.

“y’know i’m here for you if you need it, sev,” you mention quietly as you stir the pot of dinner on the stove, nearly ready to plate her food after a long day at work. since in the comfort of your own home, you don a one of sevika's shirts with thin black cotton panties underneath. your body is turned, back facing her as you wait for her response. you mean for your confession to come across more sensually, but your nervousness adds a tinge of concern to your tone.

she pauses for a moment, blinking slowly and formulating her response—calculating. after what seems like ages of silence, she lets out a gruff, “…thanks, doll,” unknowing of your intentions.

her words cause you to narrow your eyes, your shoulders to droop slowly with disappointment, and ultimately you decide to drop it.

…

you feel your already-wet cunt (from anticipating her arrival) drip even more as soon as you hear the front door to your home creak open and her heavy footsteps loud against the carpeted floor. you’re currently sitting in your shared bedroom, head buried in the book flat in your hands and feet crossed while waiting for her to finally walk through the door.

this is a daily occurrence. she comes home pissed off and you get to watch her pace around the room like the good girlfriend you are. you intently watch her clench her large fists and curse under her breath about how much she hates her coworkers for insulting her intelligence. it’s fun for you to fantasize about her in front of her.

despite all of that, you do genuinely care about her wellbeing, you listen to her and offer her support when she needs it, but….! you can’t help that your body has a reaction to her! your pussy quivers with pure arousal; like you need her to touch you, even if it’s for her own pleasure. you want her to break you in.

although this time, her footsteps seem… heavier—faster. her frustration feels different, like her emotions are spilling out from a bottle. you jerk your head up from your book when you hear the quick creak of the bedroom door slam wide open.

you’ve prayed for times like this.

…

it all happens so unbelievably fast.

one second you’re alone reading some boring-ass romance book and the next sevika’s roughly plowing into you without a single care about how rough she’s being. just solely focused on the disgustingly hot way her dick pumps in and out of your creamy pussy.

she has you laid out flat with your ass ever so slightly in the air. you’re not facing the headboard, instead your head dangles off the edge of the bed towards the bottom—your hands are bound together behind your back with her mech hand, her other gripping your hair tight. at this angle you’re unable to see her expression, but you know she’s completely lost it if she’s fucking you this hard.

she lets out a elongated “fuuuck,” at the sight of you so openly exposed and submissive for her—unable to move away from her tight grip and unrelenting force. the nasty squelch of your cunt makes her fuck you even harder, needing to hear your pussy talk to her.

“ba-baby! d-daddy! please s’so much, you’re so fucking d-deep!!” you manage to plead with her desperately, voice hoarse with the sounds she’s been pulling from you. the crying, gasping, and moaning has taken a toll on you, but you can’t help it. the faux swell of her dick pumping in and out of you, pressing against your cervix urges you into a state of delirium; complete and utter madness.

sweat drips from her muscular arms and onto your back. she's putting in work. you attempt to inch away from her harsh thrusts and her rough hands, but you’re no match for her strength, she tightens her grip on your hair and presses you deeper into the mattress.

“fuckin’ stay there, take it, baby. take it."

you can tell sevika's lost in the moment as well, words tumbling out of her mouth chaotically like rowdy bowling pins. “it feels good, yeah? know you love being treated like damn whore, don’t you, doll?”

you don't answer her, eyes rolling and hyper-focused on being stuffed full of her. the only thing on your mind is her cock sliding in and out of you, as well as being the perfect toy for her to use as she pleases. you yearn for her aggression. she's aware of your current... condition. but she doesn't like your lack of response one bit.

"fuckin'.. answer me, she thrusts slowly with each word, "don't act like you haven't been wanting me to split you open on this dick."

"you love this shit, huh?!" she's whispering into your ear with false sympathy, knowing you secretly love being teased and taunted.

you can't help but giggle with a wide giddy smile on your face because you've finally got what you've wanted. you've gotten her to pin you down and use you up without asking. "y-yes, daddy! i looove your dick. love getting fucked 'n used like a slut. use me, please!!"

laughing darkly at your eagerness, she gets even dirtier with her words and her thrusts. "i bet you like gettin' those guts rearranged by cock that's way too big f'you, hmm? like gettin' this cunt wrecked?"

"yes! y-yes!"

"yeah, baby?" she coos, "i can fuckin' tell. you're soaking me. needy little thing." she licks around the outside of your ear.

sevika picks up her pace. she's steady, fast, and deep all at the same time. the skin-on-skin contact creates loud slapping noises. "fuckin' annoying assholes. i've had enough of their bullshit," she refers back to the main reason she blew up. "good thing i have my cute, obedient little girlfriend to let me fuck her shit up, right? good girl."

it's all too much, you can feel your orgasm building up. and fast. the condescending way she's talking to you and the cruel way she's using your body has you only thinking of, 'sevika, sevika, sevika.' great! now she's ruined your brain and your body. for good.

"use me, daddy. u-use me. use me. use me."

"don't worry, daddy's gonna use you. gonna use this pretty pussy until you're beggin' me to stop. maybe i'll even knock you up, yeah?"

you can hear the smile in her voice when she lets go of your hair and hands to wrap her arms around you, "my pretty little stress reliever."

...

WHEW i'm so sorry i haven't posted anything in a minute! midterms kicking my ass and i'm living off of 4 hrs of sleep a night, sugar free monsters and a dream... 🤧😭😭

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Bob Reynolds X Reader: Sunday Funday pt 1

a/n: oh this was 100% inspired by the beach scene in top gun maverick. Because one thing about me is if lewis pullman is playing a character named bob i'll probably fall for him.

Warnings: smut, sexual activities, oral (f & m receiving), dirty talk (bob and his dirty mouth), cursing, competition, mentions of insecurity (very little), no use of y/n, switch!reader and switch!bob (i think anyway), female anatomy, male anatomy.

Words: 3,5K (oh yeah i'm obsessed)

Part 2

Working as the new Avengers was hard. You were constantly out on missions, trying to solve the world’s problems, and rarely had time to just relax together as a team. Because of this, you came up with the idea that every Sunday, you’d all go out together just to have fun. Of course, you'd stay on call in case the world needed you, but it was made clear to Valentina that unless it was an extreme emergency requiring the new Avengers, she was not to contact you on Sundays.

Each week, a different team member was in charge of planning the day’s activities. This time, it was your turn. Wanting a break from everything, you decided a beach day was in order. You rented a house, packed everyone into a car, and headed to a secluded stretch of coast—no real itinerary, just a chance to unwind without worrying about the world or your own responsibilities.

Everyone spent the afternoon lounging around, drinking, laughing, and just enjoying each other’s company. That’s when Walker suggested playing a game—just a bit of healthy competition to get the blood pumping. But you knew him well enough to realize there was no way this would stay friendly, not with your team.

With seven of you, splitting into even teams wasn’t possible, but you made it work. Team One consisted of you, Bob, Bucky, and Yelena. Team Two was Alexei, John Walker, and Ava—much to her disappointment.

Bob had turned to you the moment you’d picked him for your team, hands fiddling with his shirt.

 “I’ve never been that great at sports.”

You gave him a gentle smile, tugging your own shirt over your head. Bob starred as your skin was revealed to him. He wasn’t being discreet, but you were so focused on cussing out Walker for telling you to hurry up already that you didn’t notice his ogling eyes. As soon as you shifted to face him, he hurried to look at anything else. You placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to stare into your eyes.

 “Don’t worry about it, okay? We’re here to have fun.”

John said something else, causing an uproar of groans and complaints from the rest of the crew. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to stay calm. With a small sigh, you opened them again, leaning into Bob’s body so you could whisper in his ear.

 “But between you and me, beating Walker would put me in a hell of a good mood.”

It was such an innocent phrase, truly it was. But the proximity of your skin made Bob’s mind conjure up all sorts of innuendo.

Okay, so here’s the thing. Bob likes you. He’s had a thing for you since you took him under your wing in the death vault Valentina had sent you to. But Bob was a shy guy, and that made things hard for him. He wasn’t exactly inexperienced, but his brain liked to betray him and make him feel insufficient. He was trying to deal with his negative thoughts, but when it came to you, he couldn’t seem to convince himself there was even a small possibility that you’d like him back. So he suffered in silence every time you touched him, or told him he was doing a good job, or smiled at him after coming back from a long mission.

Bob was whipped, and you had no idea.

Of course John had gone and picked to play Dogfight Football. Typical John wanting to show off. But he underestimated your competitive drive. You had a super soldier and a red room assassin on your team and by god you were going to beat him. The game started off gently, just trying to have some fun as a crew. But it quickly turned into a full blown competition. Somewhere in the chaos Bob started to feel affected by the heat.

There was sweat all over his chest causing his shirt to stick to him in an uncomfortable way. He called out your name to tell you he needed a second and for you to watch his flank. You gave him a small nod, preparing yourself to move your attention back to your opponents. But then Bob started tugging at his shirt and your brain became foggy. You watched as his abs slowly became revealed to you, lips opening in silent shock. Holy fuck he was ripped. You’d never put much thought to the subject of what hid beneath Bob’s baggy clothes. The knowledge was making it hard to pull your eyes away from him. 

Something rushed past you with a holler, wind blowing in your face at the speed. But you didn’t flinch, you were glued to your spot. Someone called out your name and you finally managed to snap out of it. Yelena gave your shoulder a light push.

“What was that? John was coming right at you, why didn’t you stop him?”

She wasn’t fighting with you. Not really. She was just competitive and really pissed that John had managed a score after your team had been winning for so long. Bob watched the exchange, eyes finding yours just as you managed to close your mouth and turn to look at Yelena.

“Sorry. I was distracted. Won’t happen again.”

“Just admit it. You guys suck.”

“Shut up Walker!” You and Yelena yelled in unison.

John raised his hands in surrender, eyes widening as he laughed. You turned to look at Bob for  a moment before bringing your attention back to Yelena and Bucky, who had now joined you. 

“Let’s beat this fucker.”

You nodded at your teammates body buzzing with desire to rip the smug smile off Walker's face. And another desire you forced yourself to push down. 

It was going well. You were managing to keep John’s team from scoring, but they were doing a good job keeping you away too. You were becoming more and more frustrated. You had the ball in your grip, racing past John as you tried to score. You were prepared to throw the ball to Yelena just as Ava tackled her.

Fuck. Where was Bucky?

You spotted him just as Alexei shoved him away. Oh great, you were gonna fucking lose.

And then, by some stroke of absolute luck, your eyes found Bob. No one was near him—everyone else was too busy with your other teammates to even think about taking Bob out of the equation. John was gaining on you. You had to throw the ball.

Your eyes locked with Bob’s, your head moving slightly to signal your intent. His eyes widened in alarm. Before he could shake his head to tell you this was a bad idea, you’d already thrown the ball.

Everything moved in slow motion. You watched the ball float through the air, eyes tracing its path. Bob reached his hands out, preparing to catch it. John realized what was happening a second too late.

Silence filled the beach.

Bob had scored.

A yell left your lips before you could stop it. You raced over to him, jumping into his arms in celebration. He caught you on instinct, letting your legs wrap around his waist as he held you by the ass. You kept shouting victoriously as he spun you around.

Bob’s eyes were locked on your grinning face. The way the light hit you from behind gave you a kind of ethereal glow. He found himself completely captivated, heart pounding against his chest as he reveled in your beauty.

He stopped spinning you around just as you stopped yelling. You looked down at his chest rising and falling as you tried to breath after being in motion for so long. You gave him a full toothed smile causing him to give you a lopsided grin. Your gaze moved from his eyes to his lips. 

You wanted to kiss him. 

The sudden thought surprised you. It was then that you noticed the position you were in. His hands were on your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he kept you in the air with unexpected ease. Your chest was perfectly at his eye level and your core was resting against his abs. A blush crept onto your cheeks. You weren’t sure if Bob had noticed it or not but he hurried to put you down. As soon as you were back on the ground he took a step back, hand moving to rub his neck in slight embarrassment. You opened your mouth to say something but before you could your team had come rushing over to congratulate Bob. Even John had patted the man on his back.

“Good job Bob.”

He smiled at the others in silent thanks. He turned to find your face in the crowd, wanting to see how you reacted to the others giving him praise but you were nowhere to be found. He turned to search for you, eye catching your frame just as you entered the house through the front door. 

You felt parched. Your body was sweaty and hot but not because of the exercise you’d just partaken in. You were flushed. You could still feel the way Bob's skin touched yours, a wave of desire rushing through you. You made your way to the sink throwing some water on your face in a futile attempt to cool down. You breathed out a sigh, pulling open the fridge to get a sip of lemonade. You needed to take a shower. Needed to wash the grime off and, quite possibly, take care of the little situation that was starting to blossom between your legs. 

“You okay?”

You startled at the sound of his voice, body going into a coughing fit as the lemonade went down the wrong tube. Bob rushed over to you in a flash, removing the jug from your hand as he patted your back in an attempt to help the coughing stop. After a moment you managed to swallow properly.

“Sorry didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It's okay. You just surprised me.”

You moved away from the fridge, allowing Bob to place the jug back in its proper place and close the door. You forced yourself to not look at his abs, head moving to glance out the window. 

“Did I do something wrong?”

Your head snapped back towards Bob. He stood a couple steps from you, hands fiddling with the strings of his trunks as he stared at the floor. You cursed yourself. When you’d rushed away you’d only been thinking of getting out of the situation before your body couldn’t take it anymore. You hadn't even stopped to think how Bob might take your departure. You moved towards him, hand moving to grab onto his bicep. The muscles fluxed under your touch and you almost fainted. Stop it you horny fuck. 

“I thought I did a good job.”

“Oh Bob you did! You were so great out there, truly.”

Bob lifted his gaze from the floor, staring into your eyes.

“So why did you run away?”

He gave you his best puppy eyes as he asked the question, making you curse yourself even more. You bit your lip. This was possibly going to turn really awkward but you preferred telling him the truth instead of having him thinking you hated him or something. You took a step back, trying to maintain your composure.

“I left because-oh god-because I wanted to kiss you. And I wasn't sure how you’d feel about that so I just needed to get out before I did something drastic.”

You looked down at your feet as you finished speaking. You couldn’t look at his face. You just couldn’t. Because if he seemed to show interest in your words you wouldn’t be able to control the desire that burned through you. And if he seemed revolted by the idea you wouldn’t be able to handle the weight of your breaking heart. 

Bob stared at you for a moment, taking in the way you recoiled into yourself. He knew the stance well, it was practically his go to pose. Fear of rejection was a thing he’d always dealt with. But thinking that you–beautiful, amazing, wonderful you–could even think he wouldn’t want you shocked him to his core. 

Your eyes shot up to his face as he called out your name. He was closer to you now, his body practically buzzing with some barely controlled emotion. He lifted his hand, hesitating for a moment before cupping your cheek. He leaned down slowly, giving you time to react. You stayed still, allowing him to kiss you. As soon as his lips met yours you were done for. Your hands gripped onto his neck pulling him closer. Bob took the hint, tongue lapping at your lips. You allowed him to deepen the kiss, a groan leaving your mouth as his other hand squeezed your waist. 

Your legs widened so that he could slot himself between them. He pulled away to breath, shifting his grip onto your body so he could lift you up onto the counter before he claimed your mouth again. You whimpered as he shifted against you, his bulge rocking against your clothed cunt. Bob noticed the reaction, a bit of pride welling in his chest. He pulled away from your lips, shushing you softly as you whined because of the loss of his lips. His hand moved over your bikini bottoms.

“Can I take these off?”

“Yes.”

You lifted your hips, helping him tug them off your body. The cool counter beneath your ass causes you to jolt. Bob's hands moved to caress your legs, warming the skin without even meaning to. He places a kiss on your neck, before moving to whisper in your ear.

“I want to taste you. Will you let me?”

“Oh fuck. Please Bob.”

He smiled against your skin, moving away from you so that he could sink onto his knees. You stared at him from above, biting into your lip so hard you were surprised you didn’t draw blood. He looked so fucking good like this. Bob’s hands moved against your thighs, tugging you slightly forwards so he could have better access to you. He tugged your legs over his shoulders, placing a kiss to your thigh.  He stared at your glistening pussy. You were wetter than he’d expected. And the knowledge that he’d managed to get you worked up like this, without even meaning to begin with, made him so incredibly hard. 

He placed a lick to your slit, just to test the waters. You reacted immediately, hand moving to grip his hair as your head leaned against the cupboards. Bob took that as a sign to keep going. He gave you another lick, more forceful this time, and you keened. Bob was good at this. You were trying so hard to not moan at every little move of his but it felt impossible. He knew just the right spots to make you a whining mess above him. 

“Feels so good baby.”

Bob just hummed into you, acknowledging your praise without detaching himself from your folds. 

“Keep going Bob-oh shirt-I’m close.”

That spurred him on. His hands grabbed onto your thighs shoving his face impossibly closer. The action caused him to bump his nose against your clit and in a matter of seconds you were coating his face with your cum. Your body shook as you orgasmed, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your legs locked around Bob's face. He helped you through it, only stopping once your grip on his hair slackened and your legs relaxed around him. He pushed your legs off his shoulder causing you to groan in discomfort. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

You tugged him into a kiss before he could even get himself upright fully. 

“That was the best orgasm of my life.”

You moved to kiss his neck, making him groan,eyes closing as he tilted his head to the side.

“So don't you dare apologise. You hear me?”

“Yeah-fuck-don’t stop.”

You smile against his skin, sinking your teeth into his neck softly. His hips were slotted against yours as he humped into you. His hard on was straining against his pants. He desperately wanted to take care of it. As if you’d read his mind, your hand moved to palm at him through his trunks. 

Bob couldn't help the pants that left his mouth. The combined feeling of you licking at his neck and the chaefing of his trunks against his dick as you caressed him was making his brain fuzzy. And then you pulled away from him, pushing his body slightly back so that you could kneel before him and he almost creamed his shorts.

You wasted no time, pausing only to ask Bob if you could pull his shorts down, before going to work. His dick slapped at his stomach as it became free. You licked your lips, hands moving to give him a few tentative strokes before beginning to kitten lick his tip. Bob was trying so hard to keep his hands to himself, afraid that any movements he made would throw you off. 

“You can touch me Bob. You won’t hurt me.”

“O-okay.”

One of his hands settled on your head just as you took him into his mouth. The other gripped onto the counter behind him to keep his stable as you worked to bring him to heaven with your mouth.Your tongue swirled around his dick before focusing on the vein on its underside. Bob gasped as your hands moved to caress his balls. His knuckles were turning white with how hard he was gripping at the counter. He twitched into your mouth signalling you that he was close. You pulled aways for a moment, a string of spit still connecting you to his dick.

“Come on Bob. Be a good boy and cum down my throat.”

And Bob did exactly that. He waited one second so that you could place him back in your mouth before his orgasm shot through him like a bullet. His ass rested slightly against the counter as he struggled to breath normally. You continued on the floor for a moment, merely watching his ragged breaths leave his body. When you finally decided to raise from the floor Bob's hand found your frame, immediately pulling you into a soft kiss.

Bob didn’t feel satiated. He wanted more. He wanted you to consume his body. Wanted to feel you clench around him as you came. He wanted to fuck you so hard the headboard broke. He opened his mouth to tell you this just as the unmistakable sound of the back door opening filled the kitchen. Your eyes widened, realizing what the noise meant. 

The team was coming inside. 

You weren’t wearing any bottoms. And Bob's dick was just hanging out of his trunks. He moved to shove it back into his shorts before helping you desperately search for your bikini bottoms. 

You'd managed to tug them on just as Alexie made it into the kitchen. He barely noticed you, going straight to the fridge to grab a bear. You threw a towel at Bob, trying to pretend you’d been washing the dishes and he was helping you dry them off. The charade worked well. None of the others seemed to notice your flushed states as they moved through the kitchen to grab drinks before going to their rooms or to the bathroom to shower. Once Ava had left the kitchen you finally let out a breath of relief.

“That was close.”

“Yeah.”

Bob turned to face you, hanging up the towel you’d given him before leaning to whisper in your ear.

“It's a shame too. I wasn’t done with you yet.”

You flushed at his words. You’d never expect Bob to act so blatantly flirty. Maybe you brought out this side of him. Not that you were complaining. You gave him a sly grin, placing a kiss on his lips.

“Hey, what's for dinner?”

Yeleanas voice caused you to jump away from Bob, half expecting her to be right in front of you. You’d almost forgotten you were on dinner duty. 

“I’ll figure something out! Just go get cleaned up!”

The rest of the teams yelled out their “okays”. Bob turned to look at you again, his hand holding onto your hip.

“You need help?”

“No it’s okay. I got it covered.”

“Alrighty.”

He placed a peck to your lips and turned to exit the kitchen. He stopped just as the threshold, standing there for a moment as if he was trying to make his mind up about something. Before you could ask him about it he turned to look over his shoulder.

“You work on dinner. Cause i’ve already got a desert planned.”

With a wicked smile, that did not look like it should fit on his sweet face but somehow did perfectly, he turned and made his way out the door. You’d never wanted to finish making a meal so fast in your life.

[miyaz6ki]

Can you write kinich x reader smut

──── i w'na ride?!

𝜗𝜚 synopsis. whatever position he wants >_o

𝜗𝜚 pairings. kinich x gn!afab!reader(?) see this however u want cuz in som of the bullets i use boobs or discreetly mention chests (kinich is also a lowk perv)

𝜗𝜚 director's notice. i'll explain why he'd like this trust me, !!nsfw content ahead!!

inspired by the moments where he kept hitting the pose where his hands behind his head plus the one scene where he sat in a tree with his hands behind his back (or maybe i'm imagining things.)

kinich who reluctantly visits the beach(es) plus hot springs in the toyac springs region because mualani says you both need it, seeing as how much you both work beside each other, you'll definitely need a nice bath! especially the rumors of the heated conditions the springs seem to excrete.

kinich who no matter how long you and him have met each other, he'll never get used to seeing you in a bathing suit. even when you both were still kids fooling around on the beach with mualani. the atmosphere back then has almost never changed, walking along the sandy coast, feeling each little particle fall over your toes, the sun roughly about to set, the scenery was a sight to behold!

now that you both were older.. he would be lying if he said he wasn't attracted to you, your way of fighting, your appearance, how well you compliment him, it was almost like a corrupt addiction. even ajaw mentions how cheesy it is each time he sees kinich looking at you, whether it be lust or love in his green eyes.

mualani was overjoyed to hear that you've never gone out to swim, especially in the temperature she's usually in. kinich decides to tag along, totally not because he definitely wouldn't mind seeing you in different swimsuits/trunks.

kinich who you didn't mind letting him stay outside the changing room while you put on different suits while mualani actually help you choose (unlike someone who just kept ogling his eyes at you)

mualani who chose something that revealed more than appropriate portion of your skin (which was a lot, and imagine this similar to the one lumine wore!!), kinich who couldn't stop eyeing you up and down, ajaw teasing with digital sunglasses over his face; "y'know sunglasses help cover up what you're tryna look at!"

cue kinich smacking bro away again :pray:

you only got more attractive in his eyes. watching how you walk up to him, holding out a bottle of sunscreen to him, asking if he'd put some on your back before you'd go surfing on mualani's shark.

kinich didn't wanna admit but he was a little more than just turned on while spreading the lotion over your shoulders and back down to your back, his calloused hands feeling you up and down..

kinich who felt a little guilty but couldn't help but always slowly let his view dip down to your ass. shit he could already imagine what it'd look like without that last piece of clothing. too bad he can't rip it off you right here and now.

kinich who ran his hands around your chest, your sides, every curve that you wouldn't suspect him from.. he could already feel the tent in his pants rise.

kinich who couldn't resist looking at your pretty body through the blurriness of the water, almost forgetting to swim back up from being a little more than distracted. only coming back up after mualani mentions he's the winner of holding their breath underwater challenge.

a sigh of relief.. or maybe pleasure rather remembering yesterday on how close he got to be to you, palming his erection with hurriedness, thinking of how soft you felt under his fingers, only a thin layer of sunscreen that wouldn't make it weird between you both, kinich catches himself moan your name quietly in the changing room before he goes back out to you and mualani for day two of your summer break of 5 days in total.

sitting under the comfortable shade of an umbrella he brought, putting sunglasses on to rest for a bit before going in the water, or at least that is what it looks like. in all real reality, he was taking sneaky glances at you from less than appropriate angles, he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it.

kinich could barely hold himself back for the next 2 days, wherein you all toured around mualani's hometown (for the sixtieth time, but then again it never gets old seeing a different culture every now and then!)

on the last day of your adventures with mualani, she offers for you both to finally bask in the warmth of the hot springs! the natural wonder of her home! kinich was reluctant at first, but agreed seeing how you were just oh-so happy to oblige.

this time, mualani got you a different swimsuit, one muuuuuchhh more revealing this time. it's clear now that she knows kinich's little crush on you, and now she knew that you liked him back.

mualani who coincidentally forgot the milk, and silly snacks she baked earlier that morning, oh would you look at the time! i guess she has to go get them... kinich who lowkey panicks, he already is a little flustered from your new look (but manages to quickly cool himself down)

kinich who is gentle while letting you slowly dip your feet into the water, this wasn't his first time here but he knew it was yours, stepping into the water first while holding your palms softly.

you two finally both sit in the springs comfortably, right in front of him, talking about whatever you and mualani did while he sunbathed (under an umbrella). building sandcastles and such.

"ahhh... kinichhhh! you should've been there. i would've wanted you there at least, dunno about mualani-" it felt like almost immediately his trunks tightened.. maybe he got the wrong size?

oh but the sound of you verbally saying you needed him definitely is a huge turn on. well you didn't necessarily say 'need' but you definitely wanted him there, good enough.

kinich who already has you straddled on top of him, directly on his boner, fuck he could feel it already. his hands are already on your hips letting you grind over his erection, this felt better than he could've ever fantasized of!

kinich who lets you ride him, the water you both were already surrounded only made it sound all the more dirtier. it didn't help that the sly little smile on your face, all he could do was bury his face into an arm of his own, looking away from you.

kinich whose hands were in his hair, intertwining with every little strand, the flush on his face only worsened each time you bounced on it, he could barely make eye contact with you, not because he didn't want you.. ohh it was because he thinks if he did he'd come immediately!!

kinich who holds you close as his climax comes closer as well, holding you tight in his embrace, he could feel your warmth, your skin, your everything, all he could was quickly drift his calloused palms back down to your hips, making sure no drop of cum was waaaasssttteeedddd

you could see how good you made him feel, even with just a sneaky, yet lustful glance, yet plop plop plop is all you can hear echoing throughout the cave, your hands propped up on the wall as kinich pushed against your back, his grunts only getting louder, eager to please you. seeing how your eyebrows knotted

kinich who felt intoxicated as hell in your scent, almost breathless as his head fits into the empty slot right beside your collar, fire pooled down inside your abdomen as you slowly reached your peak, watching how beautifully your eyes rolled back, feeling warm semen shoot up in your stomach. holy shit were you a beauty to see.

the musky scent of sweat mixed with the warm water below you both, kinich could still feel you clench harshly on his cock, even after release, fixed & still processing what you both had just done.

kinich who brings you out the bath, wrapped in a towel, bridal style and all, before mualani can come back with the milk and snacks- "hey what is that white stuff mixed in the water- what did you two do?!"

kinich who holds your hand while you both stroll throughout the shops opened up at nighttime, the constellations in the sky connected like it was used to it, the fresh scent of grilled fish was clear in the air's aroma, filling everyone's noses, mualani couldn't just give all this fish just to you two anyway!

kinich who fully confessed his feelings to you, no sex no lust, just him wanting you to sense how much he's been longing for you, in hopes you'd reciprocate it. in which you did with open arms!

m: "aha! i knew it! you both finally told each other you like each other didn't you!!", k: "no need to shout.", y/n: "i suppose!"

mualani will stop teasing for now, and let you two be, just with each other as the stars reflect off the light you've shone into his life.

kinda cringe might delete :100:

[dissolvedprincess]

imagine just having the freedom to have your hands all over frank castle. idk what it is but lately I've been really into tipsy!reader and frank, but just coming home from being out and him being in just a pair of sweats, being able to kiss and rub and trace every scar, every hair, HIS NOOOOOOSE. I fear we as a people don't talk about his nose enough it's genuinely perfection in my eyes. just that, being all pretty for frank while you get him worked up. depending on the severity of your intoxication he may or may not let it go further, also depends on how bad you're teasing him🤭

Thank you for this super fun request dear anon! This one turned out to be a favorite of mine and i hope i did your vision justice. Enjoy!!

Nobody but you

꒰ Frank Castle x Fem reader ꒱

✷ CW : 18+, intoxication, unprotected pinv, fluff, established relationship

(Not proofread)

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶

These fucking heels were killing you.

The room was spinning and you couldn’t find your goddamn keys. “Son of a bitch…” Your acrylic nails made it more difficult for your hands to effectively rummage around your purse. You start to frantically dig harder only to quickly pause as Frank’s voice echoed in the back of your head, “Hey come on— i’ll pay ‘em off for you. It’s nothing, i like doing this for you.”

The interruption granted you a moment of sobriety and it proved to be effective when your fingers curled around a familiar shape. “Hell yeah.”

You step inside to find the already dark apartment with only one source of illumination from the side of the couch; cascading the room with a dim, yellow light. Once the door closed, you brace your back on it and let out a relieved breath.

“I’m homee babyyy!” You call out, knowing Frank would stay up as long as he needs to make sure you arrive home safe from your bi-weekly hang outs with your friends. Though the intent on having a smooth arrival was interrupted by a shooting pain that went up your leg. “Ow! Fuck! Stupid fucking-“

“Hey sweetheart— whole lotta cursing there! You good?” Frank’s voice echoed from somewhere inside the apartment.

“My heels! Ugh. They’re hurting me.” You crouch down to fumble with the straps that was tightly wrapped around your ankle. “Pleasee God just this one time….gimme a break.” You whined.

“Need any help?”

“Nope!” You let out with an over exaggerated ‘P’.

After another failed attempt, you crumbled to sit on the floor in exhaustion, causing a small thud to echo in the room. As if a loyal dog, the noise quickly beckoned Frank’s attention away from his book, and before you could struggle by yourself further, you hear him padding towards you. Like clockwork.

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you feel a spark of arousal in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him crouching in front of you. Frank looked freshly showered and he smelled so nice. The grey sweatpants he had on has always been your favorite. Although tempting, you could never tell him that; not when you could freely ogle at his bulge without him knowing.

Your eyes trailed from his hands to his flexing arms, working to gently take off your heels. He looked strong and untouchable in the white wife beater. The shape of it further emphasizing his prominent muscles.

“Frank…baby you don’t need to be doing all this.” You affectionately stroked the back of his hand with your palm.

“Quiet.” He gruffed. “I like-“

“Doing this for you.” You finish for him.

Frank’s dark eyes flicked briefly to meet yours in acknowledgment and he tried his best to downplay the smile that blossomed. “That’s right.”

“Soooo sweet, my Frankie.” You mumbled as your fingers raked through his cropped hair. “So handsome too.” He stiffened slightly as you sneaked the line in.

Frank doesn’t always react outwardly to things, he prefers to keep things close; never to let it be seen by anyone. Unfortunately for him, you make it difficult for him to do so. Especially when you make him all flustered and shy, like molten butter under the sun.

Frank cleared his throat as he placed your heels back on the shoe rack. “S’nothing.” You replied with a hum.

“Tell me what hurts.”

“I think my right leg’s crampin’ babe.” He then went to sit and pulled your leg over his lap. His hands were gentle as they massaged the tender area, but you still winced at his touch. “Let me know if i’m goin’ too hard.”

“No no, it’s good. Feels really good baby.”

You lean back on your hand and chased after his face with the other. Thumb coming up to swipe over a scar that’s formed on his cheek.

His hands trailed from your calf to your thighs, straightening out and relaxing your muscles. Frank wasn’t trying to start anything and you knew that. But how can you not get aroused as he inches to your upper thigh.

“Y’wanna know something babe?” You start, mind itching to distract yourself from his touch.

“What?”

“They talked my ear off about their shitty boyfriends, aaalll night. Apparently, all of ‘em hate listening to their girls—“ You pause to curse as he pressed on a tender spot.

“But they looove to just sit on their asses and fuck—they’re selfish pricks! Especially in bed. It’s a shame to hear my girls claim that there’s just no more proper men left in the world.” You frowned. Frank loves it when you go off on your drunken chatter.

“That so?” His tone amused.

You couldn’t stop the drunken giggle that promptly escaped, “Yep, and duh of course i disagreed. I mean, look at you!” You exclaimed with a roll of your eyes, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re like, the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Before you could catch Frank’s flustered reaction, “Also, do you remember Mia?”

He nodded, fingers still working their magic on your leg.

“She- fuck.” You held another laugh before continuing, “She swears the guy she’s dating has the smallest, tiniest micro dick. But- but, listen to this yeah.” You ramble as you waved your pointer finger to prove a point.

Frank smiled as he listened to you intently.

“They haven’t fucked yet. But she swears it cuz he has the skinniest nose she’s ever seen on a guy! Like isn’t that soo crazy!?”

“Wouldn’t know much about that sweetheart.” He then breathed out a small laugh.

In response, you put a hand on your chest and scoffed, face twisting in confusion, “Oh? Well well welllll Frankie, i beg to differ my love.”

Cocking a brow in amusement he threw a look your way and chuckled.

You narrowed your eyes, “Can you guess what she said next?”

He stopped moving his hands and rested them on your thigh instead, softly stroking up and down.

“Nope.” He uttered.

“How lucky i am that i have a boyfriend with a decent sized nose, that technically leans towards the bigger side.” You continue with a smug expression plastered on your face.

The both of you burst into laughter as you finished your story. Your heart ached as you watched him openly laugh, body shaking and struggling to contain himself. It’s a rare occurrence. Which is why you’re savoring every moment of it now. A small time away from the darkness that digs its claws into him often.

Bottom lip captured between your teeth, you smiled at him as your joined laughter naturally dies down. He leaned his head on the wall and threw you another look with a smile on his face. Both your eyes meeting to seemingly be stuck in a trance; silently communicating.

“Shit. All this talk about noses got me feeling horny.” You joked, body slowly shuffling to get on top of him and he welcomes it. His broad palm settled on your hips, affection fogging up his features. “I’m glad to hear my nose got you all worked up.” He shoots back with a sly smirk.

You giggled again before leaning in to lick the seam of his lips. He responds by sucking your tongue into his mouth; slowly. Equally savoring your taste. The kisses quickly deepened and the gentleness seemed to fade as soon as it started.

Your hips start to slowly move in his hold, testing the waters still. Eager to find out how far he’s willing to go. Frank’s answer was apparent as he helped you ground your pussy harder, pulling and pushing you along the length of his cock. The glide made easier by your own arousal that was starting to seep out of your panties.

“I’m so fucking horny Frank.” You mumble into his mouth. “I want you to fuck me.” Moaning softly against his mouth as you felt the head of his dick push against your clothed clit just right. He mindlessly start to massage your ass, leading your legs to wrap around his hips. He parts from you and leans back to voice out, “Hold on to me.”

He stood up and walks over to the couch, with you in his arms. You couldn’t help but suck dark marks into his neck as he’s walking. Teasing bites trace up to nibble on his lobe.

You expected him to dump you into the couch and fuck you into it. But you were pleasantly surprised to find him turning to fall backwards into it. The drop jostled your body slightly, causing you to press against his bulge. You rose up and threaded your fingers under the edge of your short dress and peeled it over your head. Leaving you bare in just your soaked panties.

Frank licked his lips and swiped a thumb over your pebbled nipple. “No bra tonight huh?” You feel his cock twitch under you.

You respond with a shake of your head, “Nuh uh. Best decision ever i think.”

“So beautiful.” He whispered and before you could say anything else. Frank cupped your breast and gave it a soft squeeze, running his thumb over a nipple, giving it a gentle pull. His lips suddenly came up to wrap around the other. You whimper when you feel him swirl his tongue around it with the occasional nibble.

Your cunt ached for more friction, so you plant your hands on his shoulders and you continue to grind back and forth on his erection.

Frank pulls off you with a pop to groan. Your teasing movements felt like torture, not fully satisfying. He could feel your wetness start to seep through his sweatpants. He tightened his grip around your hip to stop your grinding.

“Hold on sweetheart. Get up on your knees for a sec.”

You whimper and complained, “But you feel too good.”

“Do you want my dick in you or not?” He challenged, his own patience is wearing thin.

So you obliged. Struggling a bit to hover above him.

Frank got up slightly to push his sweatpants down. Not all the way, just enough to get his dick out, and you almost drooled at the sight.

He wasn’t wearing any underwear.

You let out a shaky breath as he thumbed your panties to the side; exposing your cunt to the cold air. Fingers slipping between your folds, feeling your wetness.

“Fuck baby. You weren’t lyin’ huh.” He then begins to push a finger into you, slowly dragging it in and out. Feeling out your walls and you bit your lip to muffle your noises as he pushed in a second finger. Leaving room for the slick noises of Frank fingering you to be heard.

“Shit.”

Frank shuffled closer and sucked your nipple into his mouth again, briefly this time; opting to lick up your neck instead. Softly nipping to leave his own set of marks.

“Frankie….” You whine, hand coming up to cradle his head.

His fingers were still thrusting rhythmically inside you, expertly causing you to arch further into his touch. But it wasn’t what you wanted.

“Frankieeee…Come on, put it in already. Please.” You attempt to pull off his fingers but his hand swiftly shot up to hold on to your waist as he jack hammered his fingers inside you.

“Fuck!” You yelp. His dick was so close, it was right there. Taunting you in all its glory.

He laid back to take your form in. “Not yet.” He growled.

“I want you to come for me once first.”

You threw your head back as you crumbled. He fucked his fingers into you harsher, palm now slapping against your swollen clit.

“Fffffuckk!” Your eyes roll back as you felt yourself cumming, giving yourself fully to the sensation. His fingers slow a bit as your muscles convulsed, giving you a semblance of a break.

“Atta girl.” He praised.

You closed your eyes and took ragged breaths as you came down from your high. Mouth still open to release soft noises of satisfaction.

Though your moment of rest was short lived. Your eyes shot open at the sound of something ripping.

“Frank!”

He threw what remained of your panties to somewhere around the room and was quick to grab hold of his dick.

“Breathe sweetheart.” He sighed out before pushing his whole girth inside of you in one swoop.

The stretch was imposing, but it was nothing you haven’t dealt with before.

With no time to waste, Frank starts to move in and out of your slick pussy and you tighten around him. Sucking him in, until his tip is lodged against your cervix. Always so deep in this position.

You collapsed into his chest weakly, body no longer strong enough to hold yourself up, and all you could do was take.

“Mmmh..Yesyesyes..fuuuuckkk..yesbaby. So fucking good.” You babble.

Frank fucked up into you just like you wanted, unforgiving and precise. Bottoming out at an angle that makes your stomach clench. His hands are suddenly on your ass to give it a few slaps. He groaned as he felt your cunt flutter around him from the act.

“Y’like that?”

You weakly nod as your drool seeps into his shirt.

He pounds into you harder now, the noises getting wetter, sloppier and stickier. With sweat running down his forehead from the exertion. So you aid him in his efforts to take you both to the peak and fucked back onto his dick to the best of your abilities. You’re sobbing, tears flowing out from the mind-melting pleasure.

You then feel his thrust start to falter. So you press into him, clawing at his shoulders, trembling.

“I’m gonna fucking cum.” He groaned into your ear and you swear the sound of him turns you on even more.

“Cum inside, fill me up. Please!”

You couldn’t tell how hard you were screaming. It felt like you lost control of your body, your voice, everything. It was all his to control, you had no say in anything.

With a final thrust of his hips, you reach your high. White sparks burst behind your lids as you came all over him. Frank kept his hand on your ass as he reached his own climax. Squeezing them roughly to make sure you don’t move a muscle as he pumped his cum inside you. Getting it as deep as it possibly could. Moaning as your cunt milked him dry.

To no surprise, his come was slipping down your thighs, your cunt already stuffed too full. Inconveniently dripping to his sweatpants as well.

“Damn. You’re getting me wet all over sweetheart.” He teased you fondly. Pushing you off his chest gently to take off his drooled-up shirt and letting you slump on his chest again now that he’s bare.

“M’sorry.” You mumble. “Can’t move.”

You felt a rumble in his chest as he chuckled deeply. “It’s okay baby. You’re good where you are.” He plants a kiss on your forehead as he wrapped his arms around you.

It took all of your strength to look up at him, “You make me so happy y’know that?” You murmured.

He looked down and his eyes soften at the sight of you. The corners of his mouth tipped upward at your statement.

“You do so much for me and i can only hope that i’m the same kind of person for you as well Frank.”

A heavy sigh flowed from him before he leaned over to kiss you.

“You’re much more than that to me sweetheart.”

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶

Pulled a goddamn all nighter to finish this one because it kept screaming and tugging at me to complete for you guys. I seriously don’t know if anything makes sense, will be checking everything again once i finish my morning run. Oh,fun fact the nose conversation was inspired by a real conversation that me and my friend had lmao, i thought it was hilarious and so on theme.

Anyway,thank you so much for reading! You guys make me so happy and remember that likes, comments, reblogs make me even more so!

[rosierin]

domestic | atsumu miya

synopsis; (y/n) can't even fold the laundry without being harassed by a certain miya twin (not that she minds of course).

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

(Y/n) was minding her business.

She really was. Just folding laundry in the living room, bathed in the quiet, honeyed warmth of golden hour. Sunlight poured lazily through the windows, settling over the floor in soft, drowsy patterns, casting everything in a dreamy, amber glow. Her feet were tucked beneath her, legs folded as she knelt on the rug, hair slightly tousled from the long day. The laundry basket sat beside her, still warm from the dryer, its contents smelling like fresh cotton and floral detergent.

The air in the room felt gentle.

Things were peaceful.

Until Atsumu walked in—shirtless, in gym shorts, towel slung lazily over his shoulders, wet hair clinging to the nape of his neck—and the vibe… shifted.

Dramatically.

"Evenin'," he said, like he wasn't dripping sex appeal all over the hardwood floors.

(Y/n) forced her eyes to stay on the shirt in her hands. She knew—she knew—that one glance would unravel her composure faster than a loose thread.

"Evening," she replied lightly. Then, side-eyeing him: "Oi, use a hairdryer. You're getting the floor all wet."

He dropped onto the couch behind her with a groan, towel flopping over his lap, shaking his head like a golden retriever. A very hot, very smug golden retriever.

Water droplets sprayed in all directions. A few landed squarely on the back of her neck.

Her eye twitched. "Atsumu."

"What? I'm air-dryin'. Environmentally friendly."

She scoffed, not out of irritation—more out of muscle memory. He had a talent for toeing the line between annoying and charming. "Environmentally obnoxious," she muttered.

He smirked, running the towel through his hair with lazy swipes. “Whatcha doin’?”

She blinked down at the stack of laundry. “Baking a cake.”

"Smartass."

“Laundry,” she clarified, flatly.

“Fun.” He stretched his legs out until one pressed deliberately against hers. “Want company?”

She didn’t even look at him. Just kept sorting the laundry with practiced ease. “Mmm… not really.”

“Too bad.”

She exhaled through her nose, but there was a tug at her lips she didn’t bother hiding. Of course he was bored. And of course, when he was bored, he came to her. He always did.

She never really minded—

“Whatcha wearin’ under that hoodie?”

Never-mind.

She paused mid-fold. Blinked. Looked over her shoulder, one brow arched. “I beg your pardon?”

His grin curved slow, wicked. “You heard me.”

There it was—the look. Those half-lidded eyes and cocky little tilt of his chin. Every time he looked like that, trouble wasn’t far behind.

“Whatcha wearin’ under that hoodie?” he repeated—teasing, shameless.

She turned back around, shaking her head. “None of your business, you perv.”

Behind her, she heard a low hum. Felt the weight of his stare like a hand pressed between her shoulder blades.

“That means it’s somethin’ cute.”

She clicked her tongue and dropped the shirt into her lap, spinning halfway toward him with mock exasperation.

But he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and the shift made his shoulders flex like he knew what he was doing. He probably did.

“There’s somethin’ real hot about domestic stuff,” he murmured.

Her throat tightened. The tips of her ears burned. She did not ogle the way his forearms rested against his thighs, or the way a bead of water rolled from his collarbone down his chest. No sir.

…

She looked.

Damn it.

His eyes sparkled like he caught her in the act.

"’M bein’ serious,” he drawled, tone dipping lower. “You sittin’ there, all cosy with that serious little look on yer face… it’s real cute.”

She wanted to play it off. Wanted to roll her eyes and scoff like usual.

But he was shirtless. And radiating warmth. And sitting right there.

And the playlist in the background had switched to some jazzy love song that made everything feel a little too cinematic.

She tried not to look again. She really did.

“I’m just sayin’,” he continued, “yer out here foldin' laundry, and suddenly I’m considerin’ things I shouldn’t be considerin’.”

Her heart jumped.

“Atsumu—”

“You’re turnin’ me on.”

She launched a sock at his face.

He caught it easily and flashed her one of those stupidly attractive grins.

"Ya look flustered, sweetheart," he cooed. "Don't tell me my flirtin's actually gettin' to ya this time."

This time she did scoff, half-hearted at best. Turned back to the laundry like she urgently needed the distraction. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly into you,” he shot back.

She hated the way her blush gave her away.

He laughed softly, the sound making her chest flutter more than it should have.

Then, gentler this time: “Seriously though. Ya look real cute like this. All domestic and stuff. Makes me wanna mess it up.”

Her fingers curled around a pair of joggers—his, naturally. “You’re all talk.”

She felt his foot nudge her lower back.

"You want me to prove it?"

She swatted him away without turning. “Stop pestering me. If 'Samu gets home before I’m done, he’s gonna think I’ve been slacking.”

"Or," Atsumu chirped, sounding far too pleased with himself, "ya could tell him the truth and say ya were too busy eye-bangin’ me instead of doin’ yer little chores."

She turned, unamused. “Says you. I’m not the one getting turned on by someone folding a few shirts.”

He leaned back, stretching like a smug house cat, arms draped over the couch with a lazy kind of swagger.

“Nah, but admit it—ya like the attention.”

She narrowed her eyes. “No.”

“Yes.”

“I don't.”

“Liar.”

They stared at each other across the chaos of socks and damp joggers, tension simmering somewhere between playful and awfully close to flirty.

And then—

The front door creaked open.

Crap.

“You still not done?”

Osamu’s voice floated in from the doorway, heavy with suspicion. He stepped into the living room, keys hitting the side table with a clatter, a couple grocery bags slung over one arm. He paused halfway through toeing off his shoes, eyebrows raised as he scanned the laundry chaos still strewn across the rug.

(Y/n) froze mid-fold.

Osamu tutted like a disappointed parent. "C'mon (y/n), I've seen ya fold quicker than that."

She pouted dramatically, throwing a pointed finger in Atsumu’s direction like a child tattling on her sibling. “It’s his fault!”

Osamu gave his brother a flat look. “What’d he do this time?”

Atsumu, lounging back on the couch like he’d never done anything wrong a day in his life, cocked a brow. “Yeah, (y/n). What did I do?”

She glared at him.

He winked.

Osamu’s gaze flicked to the couch—and immediately narrowed on the damp spots soaking into the cushions.

“You absolute dumbass,” he muttered, striding over to whack his twin upside the head with the towel. “Get yer wet hair off the furniture and go dry it before I throw yer whole ass in the goddamn dryer.”

“Alright, alright! Jeez.” Atsumu got up, rubbing his head like he’d been assaulted. “No need to get violent.”

He shuffled off toward the hallway, grumbling under his breath like a scolded puppy.

(Y/n) watched him go, biting back a laugh. She lifted a hand to her mouth, failing to hide her amusement behind her sleeve.

He caught the sound just before turning the corner, stopped mid-step, and turned to shoot her a betrayed look.

She smiled sweetly—and blew him a kiss.

Atsumu rolled his eyes.

Osamu, still standing nearby, huffed a laugh through his nose and turned her head back towards her assigned task. “Alright, back to work, miss. Ya can flirt with my brother after the laundry’s done.”

(Y/n) laughed despite herself, not even bothering to defend her honour as she turned back toward the basket. “Yes sir, sorry sir.”

Osamu smirked. “That’s more like it.”

The room settled into a quiet warmth—playlist still humming in the background, laundry pile slightly smaller, the air still charged with something light and playful.

(Y/n) smiled to herself as she folded the next shirt, fingers moving on autopilot.

Atsumu returned not too long after, already radiating mischief like he physically couldn't help himself.

He grinned her way and she shook her head.

Perhaps she did like the attention after all.

[dmitriene]

cw: smut at the end, age gap if you squint, di leon appearance.

mechanic leon scott kennedy, a man well known in the area for his wretched past, as well as the fact that he chose a more comfortable and tranquil lifestyle over becoming an agent many had anticipated him to be, preffering to spend the majority of his time undercarriage, tinkering with broken, unfortunate pieces of iron, cars, motorcycles, and trucks, getting covered in layers of machine oil and grease.

years of military service did him good, even though he is no longer so young, brown hair has darkened and grown out in messy layers, his round, ruddy face has become sharper than a knife, sporting a rough, silvering stubble that gives him a certain charm, he still maintains excellent physical condition and good control over his body, shoulders are broad, tapering down to large, beefy biceps, body is chiseled, displaying every muscle to ogle over, the ribbed tank tops he tipically wears doing well at properly highlighting all contours of his body, fair skin reflecting the intense sun, pale painting of scars that criscross over the arms catch the sunlight.

the thing is, leon is quite aware of his looks and how women react to him, more often than not, without concealing his own qenuine interests beneath a facade of coy smiles and sidelong, appreciative gazes, he's just a man, after all, so he enjoys his modest popularity without compunction, and when you pull up to his workshop with a smoking hood and eyes full of desperate panic, he greets you with a cautious smile and a soft reassurance on his lips, stretched into a smile that balances on a sharp fanged grin, which diverts your attention from the squint of his blue, all consuming eyes, not letting you see the almost perverted excitement there.

your eyes are rounded and nearly shiny like polished glass as tears well up in them, this is a brand new car, and it's unexpected and sudden breakdown cannot but frighten, because the price was big, and the repair itself can end up costing a pretty penny, and you've saved up so hard for it, but all your panicked, nearly choking speech can't help but amuse him just a little, poor, sweet thing you are, so stressed up over an issue he can repair in less than a day, yet he has to confess, leon enjoys being able to soothe you and convince you that everything is good, he won't charge you too much, and you shouldn't worry about the vehicle to the point of crying, just trust him and watch him work.

leon doesn't work for the money, but for the pleasure he derives from seeing young, sweet girls like you entangled in his weight, clothes ripped apart to expose their tender skin, bruised from passionate kisses, throat raspy from pitched keens as he dives down to press his nose into a spot that makes them pull at his hair and legs spread wider, cunt oozing and pulsing, pressed against his eagerly devouring mouth, and when he glances to the side to check where your gaze is wandering, he is not surprised to meet your wide eyed gaze tracing over his flexing muscles, the curve of his hip as he shifts his weight to one leg, rolling his broad shoulders, making you turn away, charmingly embarrassed, and he is not at all surprised, actually quite pleased, to see your thighs clench.

you weren't supposed to end up in your own car, pressed against your own seat, with your legs dangling over leon's shoulders, muscles flexing beneath with the time your toes curl, each jagged exhale turning into a reedy, gasping moan, panting, keening in a quick, capturing kisses he presses against your wide open, round shaped lips, cunt fluttering spread around the sheer girth of his cock, long and throbbing, dissapearing fully into the perfectly tight, sopping heat of your pulsing, clutching hole, hips snapping to bruise, make you feel each thrust, spill down your little whines, dazed on the sensations, head lolling back.

and if you leave his workshop all disheveled and with legs trembling, weak hands that can hardly hold the wheel beneath your fingers, restless in your seat due to the dampness in your panties from the cum that drips out of your still gaping cunt, soaking the thin fabric of your underwear, it's because his service was satisfactory, and the innocently teasing kiss that he plants on your flushed cheek, prickling the sensitive skin with his stubble, means that he will eagerly wait for you to, perhaps, visit him again.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[calumfmu]

all in your head, but I want nonfiction.

You knew who you married to at this point, you really couldn't be mad at him for handling his affairs overseas. He was responsible for everything and more you could've wanted. Everything except his time.

You were the woman of the house, responsible for the affairs over here. And the tattooed man lingering in the yard was the perfect thing to start with.

or; Steddie x reader. (business man!Steve, worker!Eddie, stay at home wife!reader) cw: 18+, mdni, pure smut, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (female and male receiving), fingering, back shots (yes pls), creampie, nipple sucking, threesome, mutual masturbation, slight hair pulling kink, use of the nickname Stevie, brief mentions of alcoholism and drug abuse, (7.7k+ words of pure smut)

It was three months this time, he had been gone. Six total, if you didn't count the two weeks that he was home in between trips. You were really starting to miss your husband, craving his presence, beginning to feel the emptiness of the house you were in.

"Greece is good this time of year," Steve commented, face blurred on the FaceTime call. You hummed, swirling the glass of Cabernet in your hand.

"Yeah, I wouldn't know," you teased, smacking your tongue against your teeth. A quirk of his eyebrow thrown in your direction, the screen lagging slightly as his mouth moved before the words could come out. You often did this, poked fun at the situation, but as of late, the truth has started to leak through the cracks of your words.

"Babe, you know I have to-"

And in that second, the call ended in three abrupt beeps, 'Called Failed' appearing in his place. With a sigh, you threw your phone aside, used to this type of instance occurring. As much money as your husband made, you could barely get the time to speak to him during this time of the year, his service always being the worst or calls being rushed or interruptions always happening.

You knew who you married at this point, you really couldn't be mad at him for handling his affairs overseas. He was responsible for the roof of the mansion over your head, making you a stay at home wife, supplying you with everything you could ever want without even having to voice that. Everything except his time. In the mean time, you’ve buried your time with drinking, book clubs on top of book clubs, expensive dinners alone, and loads of ogling at the men in town you could look at, but not touch.

Seeing your husband, touching your husband only a total of three times in the past half year was an aching feeling, loneliness creeping in at the worst times of the day. Time passed so slowly, it was hard to imagine even seeing him again some days.

You started at the window, gripping the wine glass at your hand as you reached for the decanter perched on the window sill. The sound of the alcohol pouring into the glass filled the room, your wandering eyes searching through the yard for anything to entertain you.

Bingo.

A tall man, curly hair long and pulled back into a bun. Short sleeved, white shirt tight against his frame as he paraded through the grass, boots stopping every now and then as he glanced at the plants in the garden. Your brow furrowed as the confusion set in, wondering who this man was in your yard and yet so interested in learning who he is.

You tapped on the window loudly, knuckles rapping against the pane of the glass as you tried getting his attention.

“Hey!” You called, waving your arm in the air in between knocks.

The man in your yard heard something, his own face turning up as he looked around himself. His eyes searched the grass area before glancing up, settling on your figure displayed through the glass.

“What are you doing?” You shouted, aware that there wasn’t a chance he heard what you were saying. To confirm your suspicions, his hand rose to shield his eyes, the sun glaring down at him as he stared up at you.

He mouthed something, shrugging his shoulders as the two of you held eye contact.

“What are you-” You cut yourself off with a huff, turning on one heel to march downstairs, intent on swearing up a storm, telling him to get off of your property before your husband has something to say about it. And even if the likelihood of getting said husband even on the phone was low, this stranger truly didn’t have to know.

The silk robe you wore flowed in the air as you made yourself way down the stairs, one hand still gripping your wine glass, the other pinching it closed, lounge wear not exactly appropriate for the interaction you were about to have. The four minutes it took you to trek through the house and out the door had you praying he had disappeared, become a figment of your imagination by now.

Double doors swinging open, you stepped out onto the porch, your own hand raising above your eyebrows to block out the UV rays.

To your luck (or despair), he was still there, crouched down as he looked at the array of sprinkler systems.

“What are you doing?” You accused, stepping out further of the house as he shot up in your direction. Surprise was written all over his face, deep lines appearing on his forehead.

“Hi, ma’am, I’m—”

“You have about three seconds to get off of my property,” you tightened the robe around your chest, noticing the way his eyes dipped to explore the expanse of your chest shown.

“Ma’am, I’m—”

“My husband’s going to be home any moment,” A lie. And you both knew it by the way his eyes squinted a little. You doubled down. The wine was starting to take effect. “And he’ll have you arrested. We know the chief.”

An amused smirk passed on his face, smugness oozing from his features. He waited a beat, eyes twinkling with humor.

“Are you finished?”

Your mouth dropped open, shock written all your face. The mocking, you definitely weren’t used to it. You hated to lean into the spoiled stay at home wife trope, but you were used to people folding at you, kissing your ass based on the family that you happened to marry into.

“Excuse m—”

“I’m friends with Steve,” he spit out, smiling even wider at the wide eyes you gave him. “Eddie. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

His hand shot out to shake yours, dropping slowly as you just stared down at it. You could drop the act now, realizing that this man had to have been telling the truth. You hadn’t heard anyone call your husband by his first name in years, ‘Harrington’ being the only calling card.

You took a sip of the dark alcohol in your grasp, glancing away from him as you rested a hand on your hip. His eyes chose to linger over your body, cleavage exposed through your lounge wear. Huffing, you pulled the cover up closed once more, warmth tinging your cheeks.

“And your business here is? If you knew Steve, you would know he doesn’t just invite friends over.”

“Oh, uhm,” Eddie took a step closer to you, standing side to side as he began to point over the yard. You suddenly noticed the clipboard and phone in his other hand. “I’m the new groundsman, taking over the landscaping, plans for the new yard, the whole lot.”

Ah. That did sound somewhat familiar, mentioned somewhere between the bottles of Dom Perignon you and your best friend shared the other week over a FaceTime call with Steve.

He turned towards you again, his eyes wandering for the thousandth time. You couldn’t tell if the heat was making your robe slip a little looser or if the wine was truly getting to you.

“You must be the wife,” Eddie smiled, toothy grin settling over his face as he held eye contact. In the length of this interaction, the sun has began to dip lower in the sky. You got a good look at him, not seeing any obvious similarities on how he would be friends with your husband, in any universe. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Define a lot,” another sip of your wine down the hatch. The double pour was nearly gone by now.

“Woman of the house.” He took a step closer to you, pushing the clipboard down in front of him. “Takes care of things for Stevie over here.” The tone of his voice shifted. “Could get terribly lonely sometimes.”

The concept of looking and not touching was getting a little harder for you. Gasping, you turned towards the house, downing the last of your beverage.

“I’m going to get more.”

You took a few steps towards the house before briefly turning your body to him. He was watching your movements, head tilted to the side slightly as he stared down at the sway of your hips.

“Are you coming or not?”

He was quick on his feet, tracking you on your heels as the two of you made your way up the grand entrance. The coolness of the house, covered in marble and white instantly taming the heat taking over your body. Eddie let out a low whistle, his neck craning up to stare at the high ceilings, chandelier hanging above the entry way. Everything about the place was pristine and huge, money screaming even the gloss of paint covering from the walls.

The sound of his boots were loud following your bare feet, making his way into the kitchen behind you.

“Nice one, Steve,” Eddie laughed to himself, shaking his head. You went over to the wine rack on one end of the kitchen, ripping off a bottle without even glancing at the label. Another crystal glass followed, you placing it in front of the man before you.

His finger was running along the marble countertops, his eyes wide as he studied the detail. Just as you went to pour a glass for him, his hand shot out.

“Oh no, hun. I can’t do wine,” he rushed, a smile on his face. You ignored the nickname, hand paused as the bottle was tilted in the air. Staring up at him, your face was emotionless.

“Sober?”

He opened his mouth to speak, cutting himself off with a laugh. “Not exactly. Just makes me… a little reckless,” he finished, placing the clipboard down on the counter.

A smirk of your own crossed your lips before you poured the glass anyways, sliding it over to him once a hefty serving was in front of you. He shook his head as he reached for it despite his own words, swallowing down a gulp.

The two of you stood in silence, devious looks in your eyes. You let your eyes wander over him, taking in the white shirt he wore, how it hugged him just right. It felt wrong, thinking of your husband’s friend like this. It had been so long since any type of male interaction, you couldn’t help but feel tempted.

“Babe?”

You jumped where you stood, your topped off glass fumbling in your fingertips. Your best friend appearing around the corner, her loafers sounding out through the corridors.

“Robin, Jesus Christ—”

She stopped just as she rounded the corner, eyes darting in between the two of you. The look she gave you made you speechless, her all knowing eyes saying everything she needed to.

“And you are…?”

Eddie put down his glass, a glance thrown in your direction once more before he took a few steps towards Robin. She squared up her shoulders, amusement on her face.

“Leaving,” he smiled, passing her. You and the other girl in the room watched him making his way over to the main corridor. He turned to you one last time before disappearing. “Mrs. Harrington, it was a pleasure, hun.”

He disappeared, a wink thrown in your direction. Your breath caught in your throat at his last move, shaky hands bringing the glass of alcohol to your lips.

“Hun??” Robin questioned once the front door slammed behind him. She came to your side, eyebrows raised behind her wispy bangs. “Hun!”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed the fingers away from you as she pulled on the hem of your robe.

“Rob—please.”

“Uh uh, babe. We’re going to talk about this,” she laughed, taking the glass from your fingertips. She took her own swig, grimacing at the bitter taste.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

A dead pan look covered her. “All I’m saying is Harrington better watch out. He’s got some competition.”

You laughed bitterly at her words, taking a seat at one of the bar chairs. It was cool against your exposed legs, the heat from the moment finally drifting from them.

“Well, Harrington,” you mocked the last name she used, the both of you realizing if anyone had the right to call him Steve, it was her. “Was the one who hired him, new house job or whatever.”

“Consider that a gift,” she shrugged, laughing loudly as you shoved her shoulder. Heat pooled at your cheeks (and between your legs).

“Robin!”

“I’m just saying! He probably put an ad in the paper or something: Lonely Housewife Looking to Fuck.”

You dropped your head in your hands, laughter bubbling out at her words. She couldn’t get more ridiculous than this. A gasp left your mouth, your eyes peaking between the spaces of your fingers as you looked at her.

She was looking at the clipboard he had forgotten, a scrap of paper on top of the various items.

“I’d dust off the cobwebs, babe,” she giggled, sliding over the board to you. You peaked down at what was written, your heart racing at the scribble next to his number.

‘For the lonely wife. We could talk business. xx Eddie.’

It had gotten interesting the last few weeks, the second story window becoming your favorite spot to watch Eddie work in the yard. The sweltering heat was your best friend behind the AC of your home, choosing to enjoy the way Eddie looked in the Indiana heat. Tight tank tops, tattoos exposed, hair pulled to the back of his head with loose curls framing his face.

He barked off orders to his crew, always cracking jokes with them, teeth bared in a grin. He was clearly a joy to be around, spreading humor to even you from yards away.

It was a cat and mouse game you could call it, Eddie clearly showing off his muscles and sex appeal while you played the other side, risking just how little of clothing you could get away with inside the comfort of your own home. You passed in front of windows, dropping the shoulders of your silk robes as you pretended to get distracted, bending over to grab ‘forgotten’ items on the floor.

You knew he knew what you were doing. He was aware of it the entire time, his own smiles thrown in your direction as you began to push your limits of what could be acceptable for looking, and not touching.

The shrill ringing of the FaceTime call brought you out of your observations, Steve’s contact appearing on screen. You slid open the call, smiling brightly when his face appeared, styled hair, button down open, exposing that silver chain and his chest full of hair.

“There’s my handsome boy,” you beamed, blowing a kiss to the screen. Steve smiled brightly, pressing his lips to the camera.

“And my beautiful wife,” he cooed, holding up the camera wide to give you a view of him. He was on a coast somewhere, Mediterranean. The view was beautiful, waves crashing as the sun was nearly gone from the sky.

“What are you up to, my love?”

You glanced out the window at Eddie, noticing his crew was gone. He stood alone in the center of the yard, taking a look at the landscaping design prints.

“Just… relaxing,” you let the camera show you resting against the window seat in your room, lingerie on display. The camera only showed a flash of your cleavage before you brought the camera back up, a shy, yet devious look on your face.

“What do y—oh.”

It was quick, the way Steve moved. Your phone screen showed a blur of Steve’s clothing, the sound of his footsteps, and the sliding of a glass door before he was shown again on the screen, his hair fanning out on a pillow on a bed.

“Tell me more.”

From the angle, you could tell that Steve had began to touch himself at the thought of you. You showed more of yourself, manicured hand beginning to run down your chest, trailing down your stomach to rest on the front of your panties.

It had been months since you last did this over the phone, the timing always so wrong or one of you not in the mood or always something.

“Thinking of you, Steve.”

It couldn’t be a lie if you were omitting part of the truth. He didn’t need to know you were thinking about Eddie as well.

“Fuck.”

The phone dropped against his chest, showing black before he picked it up again, a flushed look on his face. You giggled slightly, spreading your legs against the window bench as you showed more of yourself. Your hand slipped down the front of your underwear, teasing slightly as you ran the pads of your fingertips against your clit.

“Wish I was there with you, baby,” Steve sighed, eyes closed as slick noise began to be heard through the phone. You brushed your clit harder, whimpering as you thought of your husband touching himself to the thought of you.

Glancing out the window, Eddie was still distracted, back turned towards you. Your eyes squeezed shut as you dipped a finger lower, entering yourself.

“I miss you so much, Steve,” a whine left your throat. He let out a shuddered moan.

“You miss me, baby?”

Nodding, you pushed in another finger, the sound of your own slick filling your eyes. Pleasure began to course through you, an ache settling at your core.

“What do you miss the most?”

His tooth was dug into his bottom lip, a fucked out look on his face from his own hand. You could only imagine how he was feeling, achingly hard across the world from his wife who just looked so tempting.

“I miss your—fuck Steve—I miss your cock,” a whimper fell from you, your chest heaving as your fingers crooked against that spot deep inside you. You weren’t going to last long, this feeling had been building inside you for weeks.

“Oh my G—”

Steve’s side of the phone fell once again, a loud groan heard before the call dropped, the dial tone loud in the room. Tears pricked in your eyes as you tossed your phone to the side, leaning your head against the window as you looked down in the yard once more, fingers moving swiftly in and out of your wetness.

You had an audience now.

Eddie was staring up at you, look of shock on his face as he held the plans in his hand. A look from him alone was all you needed before coming, pussy throbbing around your digits, legs squeezing shut.

It was the most intense orgasm you had in a while, your body tensing up with release as pleasure washed over you. It took a moment before you came to, fingers leaving your core as you brushed once, twice more over your clit, riding out the feeling.

You didn’t have the nerve to look outside again, shame washing over you as you realized what had just happened.

Phone ringing once again, your shaky hand reached over the grab it, answering it to see Steve, face flushed and lip bitten red on the other end.

“I’m sorry, baby—This fucking service over here, I’m sorry,” he rushed, eyes apologetic. That puppy dog look you fell for was staring at you, grainy as his phone struggled to keep up. “Did you—”

You barely nodded, eyes hooded while you came down from your high.

“Babe, it’s okay.”

“No, I just—I’m sorry.”

“Steve,” he cut off his rambling as you gave him a stern look. You really did run things around the Harrington home. “I’m okay, really.”

“I love you.”

You smiled, blowing him another kiss. “I love you t-”

A male’s voice called from his end of the phone, immediately distracting both you and your husband. Sighing, you knew what was coming.

His face was sincere as he turned back to you, lips fixed in a pout.

“I gotta—”

You waved him off, sitting up slightly as you closed the silk around your frame. “Yeah, yeah, go handle business, Harrington.”

That’s why he loved you. No matter how much this truly did affect you, and how much you wished you could have more than a 10 minute call, you always were so supportive. He did support the lifestyle that you always dreamed of, even if it did come with certain circumstances that weren’t ideal.

“I love you, baby.” He moved to hang up the phone, pausing before ending the call. “Tell Ed I said hey, by the way.”

You swore your heart stopped beating in that moment as he left.

You had resorted to staying inside, avoiding Eddie and his crew that occupied your lawns during the day hours. The deep insides of your home without windows facing them became your isolation points. It was everything and more for you to avoid him, guilt creeping into the pit of your stomach.

You'd even gone as far as avoiding Robin and her prying eyes. She had known something was going on with you, felt it deep in her soul. That woman knew you like the back of her hand, could recognize every shift of emotion you'd experience, knew something had gone down between the two of you even if touching wasn't necessarily involved.

("Is there something wrong, babe? You've barely touched your Pomerol." The eye roll you gave her could win awards.)

It was like something shifted in the air, grey clouds pulling in and thunder rumbling so hard, you could feel it in your chest. The next time you happened to pass in front of the foyer window you had seen that Eddie and his crew were quickly gone, not expecting the change in weather events.

Relaxation began to sag its relief at your shoulders, no longer feeling like a prisoner in your own home. It was a long time coming, you hadn't felt this much relief in your system since that after that Hargrove heir you briefly dated back in '06.

A knock pulled you out of your thoughts, Robin's image immediately popping up into your mind. It was probably time for her to finally confront you, bring Steve into it somehow and blame the Benzos for acting the way you had been lately. (It had nothing to do with it.)

You threw open the door, the weight of it slightly swinging your body. Your eyes didn't meet the person at first, an infamous eye roll already on the verge, "Rob, I don’t want to t—Oh."

It was Eddie in all his glory, T-shirt glued to his body from the rain that began to pour, curls beginning to hang loosely from the bun he wore, cheeks red and flushed. He breathed heavy upon seeing you, a smile ghosting his lips.

"Hi, hun," his voice was low, a slight hint of something in it.

You didn't know what to say, glancing behind you as if there was anyone to catch you for even thinking terrible thoughts. His eyes followed yours.

"Well, can I come in?"

"Oh." You swung the door a little wider, cringing at the way his work boots tracked in water from outside.

He shook out his hair like a dog, the droplets dampening you from afar. You didn't have the nerve to say anything to him, gobsmacked from the fact he was in front of you like a Greek God, beautiful as ever, but tempting in the worst way possible.

"I got stuck outside... truck wouldn't start," he explained, looking around the house as if it were the first time that he was in here. The realization of the scene in front of you finally caught up, you rushing to action to try and be the welcoming host that you always were.

"I think... here, come, Steve should have something you could change into," you said, beginning to lead him upstairs. You stopped at the base of the spiral staircase, pointing at his boots. "You better not."

He beamed at your words, quirking his eyebrow at you as if you said the funniest thing ever. Toeing them off quietly, he then followed your lead to your upstairs bedroom. He stared at you all while doing it, the tension in the room growing even at the thought of him undressing even slightly.

The track there felt like you were walking the green mile, Eddie close behind you as you lead him to the walk-in closet. He was silent, the only sounds of his breathing giving him away.

Back to him, you opened the panel hiding Steve's lounging clothes, rows of white and creme and pastel materials appearing. You felt his presence behind you, something like a predator creeping on its prey.

"I think he's—what are you, a size f—" Your breath hitched on your throat as you felt his fingers touch your forearms, guiding your hands down from the clothing.

His lips brushed the cartilage of your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Tilting your head to the side, your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of him finally touching you.

His hand trailed up your arm, snaking around your exposed neck, a light kiss being pressed to the skin in front of your ear. You leaned your head back against him, a cut off groan leaving you as you relished in this moment.

"I've been waiting on this, hun," He whispered, reaching one hand down to your waist to pull you flush against him.

You gasped at the feeling of him against your backside, his body just as firm as you expected. The other hand cupped against the bottom of your chin, tilting your head back even further so his lips could press into the junction of your neck.

"You've looked so good," he continued. "So tempting."

Your hands reached up to grab at his arm, your ass pushing even further into him. He walked backwards with you in his grasp, falling against the large ottoman in the center of the closet. It was big enough to seat the two of you, his large frame sprawled in the center of it while you sat petite in his lap, legs on either side of his, back pressed into his chest.

"I can't believe Stevie leaves you here. All alone. So vulnerable."

A whimper left your mouth as he leaned back slightly, pulling you with him. The hand that was once around your waist snaked down to your front, dipping down into the front of your silk sleep shorts.

"Eddie." You whimpered, his name coming out in a choke as he ghosted over your clit.

He was teasing in his movements, bringing you right to the precipice of pleasure. The second he got close to pressing down firm and just right, he would remove his touch, only to ghost down lower to tease your dampening hole.

"What do you need?"

You groaned, spreading your legs further as he continued in his movements. Knowing exactly what he wanted, you wanted to refuse to give in, refuse to have yourself beg for him. But it had been months after all, the only human touch you'd experience was from yourself.

"I need you."

It was a quiet whine into the room, almost inaudible behind the heavy breathing. That one word was all that he needed, his hand fully pressing into your cunt, swirling your clit in a way that had your head spinning.

The choked sob that left your mouth earned a groan of his own, loud and just as wanting as your own. Your head was leaned back against him, your neck exposed, mouth wide open and turned towards the ceiling.

Eddie's mouth was sucking and licking along your neck, his heavy breathing tickling at your spine as he dipped a finger to press into you, thumb circling your clit. The digit stretched you wide, wetness pooling down onto his hand.

"You get this wet just for me?"

Your hips were grinding against his hand, wanting more from him as he finger fucked you.

"Eddie please."

"I know, hun, I know." He removed his hand from you, standing you up and off his lap. You whimpered at the loss of contact, squeezing your legs together as he was sprawled in front of you.

He reached his hands towards you, stopping at the hem of your tank top to pull it up and over you, exposing your naked breasts to him. A glimmer of arousal appeared in his eyes, his teeth dug into his bottom lip as he stared at your chest, hand reaching up to cup at the globes. Leaning up, he took one nipple into his mouth from his seated position, licking and sucking at the hardened nub.

It was like you found yourself in heaven, sudden pleasure finding you all at once. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pulled him into your chest even further, whining at the contact of his mouth on your skin.

He traded onto the other nipple, squeezing the abandoned one between his fingers. He moaned in between the loud sucking, making a show of how much he loved the taste of you.

Pulling away, his fingers found the hem of your shorts. The material pooled down at your feet, your stark nakedness becoming apparent in the giant room against his clothed body.

He drank you in, his eyes roaming your body as you stood in front of him.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he groaned, shaking his head in disbelief.

He reached down to his pants, unbuttoning the jeans and sliding down the zipper ever so slowly. It was torture, watching him undress himself, the slide of his jeans down his legs, dropping down to his ankles with his boxers to follow.

He pulled his shirt over his head, spreading his legs wide as he leaned back on the ottoman. His cock was fully free, springing to full attention as he took a hold of it. Dropping your eyes down to ogle at the sheer beauty of it, head dripping wet with precum, long and thick with a vein running down the middle.

Eddie smirked at your fascination, ushering you closer to him with the curve of his finger.

You took a seat on his lap, legs caging him in as you settled over his cock, head pressing at your entrance. As he pressed in slightly, your eyes bulged slightly, realizing that in no way you were not prepared for his size.

His lips pursed into a shushing motion, "Shh, hun, it's okay."

He guided your hips down onto him, pressing deep into you. The feeling of his cock split you wide open, a strained moan pouring out of you. Your fingers wrapped around his neck, gripping at him to ease the stretch you were feeling.

Giving you only a second of breathing time, he gripped at your waist, urging you up and down on his shaft, thrusting into you shallowly.

He hit you deep, hitting every spot you forgot was inside of you, pleasure creeping through your body.

"F-fuck Eddie," your moans were load in the room, the sound of his balls hitting against your ass growing louder as he became more brutal in his movement.

Pulling you against him, he slotted his lips with yours, harshly nipping at the skin, sinking his teeth into your lips, sucking your tongue into his mouth. You were lost in the pleasure, soaking wet around him as he fucked into you.

His fingers were splayed across your hips, dipping onto the curve of your ass as you bounced on his cock. Your orgasm was approaching quick, a lot quicker than you had imagined.

"You wanna cum for me, babe?" He mouthed against you, lips not leaving yours as your vision began to fog.

The curve of his cock hit your spongey wall repeatedly, urging completion suddenly. Your body began to tense up, legs shaking as you approached your high, cock-drunk on this feeling.

"Eds, I'm go—"

Your orgasm washed over you, tensing your spine as he fucked you through it, clit throbbing as it brushed that thatch of hair as the base of his cock. He was quick to follow, pulling out just in time to come over you, painting white over the bottom of your stomach.

It was messy, dripping over the two of you as the come down approached you. You took a moment, breathing deeply as your eyes briefly shut, head falling against his shoulder while you relaxed into him.

He was breathless, wrapping his arms around you to settle into your lap.

"I've been waiting on this a while," he admitted, sighing deep into your neck. You nodded at his words, agreeing, yet speechless for the mind-blowing orgasm you had just experienced.

He leaned back, pressing a small kiss to your mouth before looking into your eyes, head leaning against your own.

"Round two? I could use a shower."

He laughed at your words, shock evident in his eyes at your boldness, but jumping at the opportunity, throwing your body over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

As the dreary weather settled outside, you couldn't be more thankful for the turn of events. There was a long night ahead of you.

The morning light crept through the drawn curtains, your naked body sprawled out against the white sheets. Drawing slowly into consciousness, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, reaching beside you.

The bed was cold, Eddie's figure obviously missing from your side for who knows how long.

Memories of last night came flooding back to you, the positions that he had you in bringing out the soreness in your body. There were visions of you propped up against the shower wall, your legs thrown over his shoulders, pressed to your chest, orgasm after orgasm pulled from you, until you couldn't give any more.

Draping the bed sheet around your naked body, you sat up in bed, perking up at the smell of fresh coffee brewing. There was a skip in his step as you heard him coming down the hall, energy coming back to you as you imagined what was to come, breakfast in bed, getting bent in between courses.

Your smile dropped from your face as you saw him, large cup in hand as he made his way into the room. Steve.

His perfectly styled brown hair, that charming smile as he stared at you, raising his eyebrows as he saw you relaxed in bed. Your nakedness seemed like a lot, even in the privacy of your own shared bedroom.

"There's my girl," he smiled, placing the mug down on the bedside table before leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead. Your hand subconsciously came up to cover the side of your neck, dark purple bruises had to have been there from the events of last night.

"S-Steve, what are you doing here?"

He fake pouted, a scoff leaving his mouth. "Three months, and that's all you got?"

The sudden realization that your husband was right here hit you, a smile crossing your features as you wrapped your arms around him. He collapsed on top of you, laughing loudly as you attacked him with kisses, your lips covering every inch of skin that you could find.

"Relax, relax," he cackled, pressing his own kisses to you in between attacks.

Pulling away, he took a good look at you, the most loving smile covering his face. Guilt found you, pooling deep in your chest and the pit of your stomach. Your loving husband, being away to support you, only to come home and find his wife in this position, a classic case of infidelity.

"Steve," your voice fell short as you stared into his auburn eyes. His brow furrowed, his thumb coming up to swipe at your eyebrow, smoothing the crinkled skin.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"I just—" Cue the dramatics. Tears began to well in your eyes as you processed the situation, he didn't deserve this. There was nothing he could do to calm you down, the hitching of your breath in your throat, the choked sob leaving your mouth as you struggled over the words to say.

"Did you miss me that much?"

You choked even harder at his words, pulling you into his arms as your vision became blurry. It was getting even worse for you.

"Baby..." There was a warning tone in his words, his patience growing thin as you wouldn't let up. You brought yourself together, hiccuping slightly as you stared up into his eyes. Your mouth opened and closed, the words to say leaving you.

You didn't need to say anything as his eyes finally decided to trail lower than your face, noticing the dark bruises forming along the side of your neck. His eyebrows raised slightly as the rest of his face remained emotionless, his thumb tracing over the skin.

"I don't know what to say," you said, hanging your head away from him. You couldn't look him in the eyes as he studied the hickies left behind from Eddie.

"I see you got my present," he whispered, running the pad of his finger over your neck.

Your head shot up to look at him, eyes wide and confused.

"You-what are you...? Steve—what?" You didn't know what to say to him, confused on what was even happening right now. He was so stoic, you couldn't read him. His eyes found yours, humor in his eyes.

"Eddie. My present."

There was a moment of silence as you processed his words, memories of the past few weeks knowing the mentioned man passing through your mind. Realization hit you, knowing that this man in front of you was so calculated, everything had to have been him.

"Why didn't you say anything!" You wanted to kill him, but wanted to kiss him at the same time.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," he shrugged, smirking at you as relief crossed over your face. You wiped the hot tears that had streaked your cheeks, embarrassed of the thought you could even betray him.

"How did you even—are you sure this wasn't a test I just failed?"

He laughed at your words, shaking his head as he pressed a kiss to your temple. "I promise, baby."

You sighed in relief as he kissed you, fingers underneath your chin to pull you closer into him. Kissing this man felt like a dream that would've never came true, a surprise of your life time brought to its fullest extent.

His mouth was as soft as you remembered, taste as sweet as the last time. All those months of anticipation were worth the wait, feeling like it was truly nothing.

He leaned over your body, pressing you down into the mattress as the sheet began to fall away from your body. With your fingers pulling open the button down he wore, his chest became exposed, firm muscle rippling underneath your touch.

"You beat me to it, Stevie."

A gasp left you as you pulled away from your husband, head craning towards the door. Eddie stood in the frame, white bath towel draped loosely over his hips, hair dripping wet from a shower. He took in the sight of the two of you tangled on the bed, Steve's shirt hanging half off of him, the sheet gone from your body.

Glancing up at the man above you, you saw the smirk he was giving Eddie, canines exposed. It was like you were looking at someone completely different from the man you've known for years, an evil, sexually driven person in front of you.

"You going to stand there, Munson or...?"

With a smirk of his own, he was headed over to you two, towel dropping from his body. His cock was already hard and heavy between his legs, dripping with anticipation as he threw himself on the bed. Immediately, his hands found your body, headed straight towards your hard nipples with his mouth quick to follow.

A strangled moan escaped you as the shock settled over, Steve leaning up on his knees to get rid of his pants.

The belt was thrown across the room, his eyes not leaving the two of you once as he undressed.

"Wait—" You breathed, pushing Eddie off of you. The two men stared down at you, scared of your next move, that you would end whatever this was right now. You looked towards Steve, eyebrows raised. "Are you okay with this?"

Steve's eyebrows raised as he glanced in between the two of you, his hand pulling his dick out of his boxers, pushed down to his thigh. Your eyes dropped down to take view, mouth watering at the sight.

"Let's just say... we have a history of sharing."

He winked at Eddie before diving between your legs, nose immediately pressed to your cunt. You didn't have time to even think about what he said, figuring that it was a topic to explore at a much later time.

His tongue quickly found your clit, circling the nub before licking up the length of your slit. Your thighs squeezed the side of his head, a whine filling the room as Eddie sat up to stare at the show. His own hand tangled in Steve's mane, pulling him closer to you as he sopped you up. The groan he let out vibrated against your core, urging another wave of wetness out of you.

"F-fuck Ste-"

You couldn't even get the words out as his finger pressed at your hole, pushing in a single digit. It curled against your wall, pressing into your pleasure point. Your head was thrown back into the pillows against the headboard, white hot pleasure tingling at your spine.

Eddie leaned down to lick at your nipple, eyes intently watching Steve suck at your cunt, chin growing more wet from your juices.

"Baby-please-"

He nodded, glancing up to make eye contact with the two of you. Not moving, he inserted another finger into you, moving at a faster pace. You whimpered even louder, spreading your legs wider to get him deeper inside of you.

"You want to share?" Eddie laughed, sitting up to stroke at his hard cock. A pearl of white beaded at the tip, squeezed out by the cuff of his hand.

Steve smirked around your clit, pulling away at the retort as he pulled you up to meet him. Turning you around, you were maneuvered to your hands and knees, ass pressed into the air. He ran the head of his cock against your hole, dragging it up over your ass and back down to your cunt, pressing at the sensitive hole.

Hissing at the feeling, you were still sore from the multiple rounds you went with Eddie the previous night.

"You had her all night, 's my turn, Munson," Steve breathed, pressing to the hilt in a smooth motion. The two of you groaned as he fully pressed into you. He paused in his movements, hand pressed to the small of your back as you both adjusted.

Eddie shrugged, moving in front of you with his legs splayed wide open, hand stroking his shaft.

You knew what to do, leaning down onto your elbows to take the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking at it. His hand gripped the back of your head, pushing you down farther than you expected. The gag that left your mouth filled the room, catching Steve off guard as his hips stuttered inside of you.

"Watch it," he hissed, pausing only slightly before pulling out and pressing back in all the way. His cock had a curve in it, damn near pressing into your cervix as he fucked you.

Eddie was smirking, hand still on your head as you began to bob your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks.

You were so filled on both ends, you were seeing stars. Both men in your presence were making you feel like you had lost it, the heavy alcohol consumption over the past few months maybe had really gotten to you.

Your hand trailed off of Eddie's dick, dropping down to cup at his balls, rolling them between your fingers. Eddie's head fell against the headboard, his hips stuttering as you took him into your mouth.

With every thrust of Steve's hips, you were rocked into the tattooed man in front of you, choking down further and further. It was all becoming a little too much, both holes being filled beyond your limits.

"Just like that, baby, fuck," Steve moaned, hand inching up your spine to rest at the top of your spine. He leaned over, forcing your legs a little wider so his cock pressed even further into you. His hand found the base of your neck, pushing your head even further onto Eddie.

The motion had Eddie groaning, hips suddenly spilling as he came, warm liquid spurting down your throat. It had you choking, pulling off of him in time for it to spill out of your mouth, dripping back down onto him. The entire moment was so dirty, so filthy, it caused a chain reaction, Steve pressing into you once, twice more before cumming deep.

You pulsed around him, squeezing tight as your own orgasm took over you. For a split moment, you think you passed out, vision blurring, going black briefly before you came to, laying down on your stomach, legs shaking.

Your hand came to wipe at your eyes, tears pooling at the corners from the high you just experienced. There was no way you were coming down from this, the purest form of pleasure you think you'd ever experienced.

Eddie was leaning against the headboard, cock swelling down after his spend, his hand running over your skin as you leaned against his thigh. Steve was half way on you, his own breath catching from the high.

"You okay there, hun?"

Eddie's voice was raspy, his eyes wandering over you and your husband. Nodding, you threw him a shaky thumbs up, not finding the words to even utter a syllable.

Steve laughed, running his hand over your spine. It found the base of your spine, squeezing the globe of your ass.

"I think she will be after a few more rounds."

nothing more. all I have to say on this. hope you guys enjoyed this lengthy piece of pure smut. lol xx

masterlist. <3

[jayparked]

well done <33 can i please ask for 68 and hee?

warnings: inexperienced reader, language, f2l, unprotected sex

wc: 569

"i'm sorry...what?" heeseung leans forward, eyebrows knit tightly together in confusion.

"you heard me."

"no! i don't think i did!" scoffing with a nervous chuckle, heeseung stands up from the chair in your room and places both hands on top of his head, pacing back and forth.

"please heeseung i hate being so inexperienced. no one has let me do it before so please just let me do it once. i swear it won't change anything with our friendship."

heeseung can't believe what you're saying, genuinely cannot believe what the hell you are talking to him about. he's been your friend since middle school and now that you're in your second year of college the friendship seems pretty set in stone for life.

"say it again," he mumbles, now turning to face you.

"let me ride you."

"fuck...alright. but you're stupid if you think this won't change anything so i hope you're sure about this." truth is, heeseung has been trying to get over the fact that he's been in love with you since the first day you two met. only recently did he finally feel like he was making progress and even contemplated the idea of seriously pursuing this one person who was dropping major hints they are into him (it's the barista at his college campus. they leave their number on heeseung's cup every single day with cute messages and doodles).

but you just had to ask him this, something he would never be able to refuse.

minutes pass in a blur and suddenly both of your clothes are off and heeseung is laying on his back, on hand behind his head as he tries to get a good look at you without completely ogling.

you get on the bed and straddle his hips, careful not to lower yourself on his hardened cock. you wish you had a few more moments to just stare at it, completely thrown off with the length and girth your best friend has been packing this whole time. the thought of that going inside you is exhilarating and terrifying.

once you look into your best friends eyes though and see all the feelings he's tried to hide all these years, you don't hesitate and take the plunge. the way he stretches your walls has you gasping outloud, having to rock your hips back and forth slightly to try and help the stretch.

"ah...oh yeah, y/n, fuck you're so tight." heeseung's hands are on your waist but his eyes are on your chest. with a quick eyeroll you grab his hands and place them where his eyes were.

"you don't know how many times i've dreamed of this happening," he whispers.

with a laugh you reply with a simple, "me too," your stomach fluttering when you see the shocked look on his face. heeseung opens his mouth to say something, but you're fully sheathed on him now and immediately put your hand on his chest to stable you as you grind your hips against his crotch. all that comes out of heeseung's mouth for the next few moments is a slough of swear words, praises, and "i can't believe we've never done this before"'s. and once he's coming undone underneath you all he can ask is if you can do that again exactly how you did it before, because fuck that felt so good and he needs it tattooed into his memory.

for part of my 1k follower celebration send me a member and a number from this list and i'll write a short drabble about it ♡ masterlist

[bubbleggum444]

— ❝THE LOᐯELY MᗩID❞

𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 bruce wayne x fem!reader, maid!reader au, fluff, 2k+ wc.

𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 bruce absolutely does not have a crush on his employee. nope. not at all. or at least… that’s what he keeps telling himself—over and over—whenever she smiles at him like that. pt 2.

He's captivated. There's no other way to explain it.

Captivated by the sweet woman in front of him—the one serving dinner to his family and him. The same woman he originally hired to assist his aging butler, Alfred.

This was unlike him. Bruce Wayne, a 35-year-old billionaire, didn’t do crushes. Sure, he’d had his fair share of fleeting affections, even pursued a few women in his younger years. But that was before. Now, nearing forty, he had no business developing feelings—especially not for her.

"Mr. Wayne?"

"Huh?"His head jerks up so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash, instantly focusing on the source of that soft, melodic voice.

The young maid blinks at his reaction, her brows lifting slightly before she smiles—polite, composed. She gestures toward his untouched plate.

"Your supper is getting cold, Mr. Wayne."

Oh dear heavens—or whatever’s up there—Her voice, her gestures, her kindness, her grace. Everything about her is just—And her smile! God—everything about her is—

"Stop ogling the maid, father. Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."

Damian’s voice cuts through his thoughts like a blade.

Bruce barely has time to register the words before his eyes find her again—this time, assisting Tim, carefully slicing a piece of bread for him.

The tenderness in her actions makes something tighten in his chest. He forces himself to breathe, the corners of his lips lifting slightly as he finally picks up his fork and eats.

"Is the food to everyone's liking?" she asks, scanning the room.

The family responds with nods, murmured approvals, and a few hums of agreement. She turns back to Bruce then, and when their eyes meet—

ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum

His heartbeat stutters.Her expression is warm, her gaze unwavering. It’s as if the world slows for a moment, like she’s silently pulling him in, like—

"Mr. Wayne? All done? How was supper?"

"Huh—? Oh! Yeah, yeah, supper was amazing, doll—Dear! I mean dear... It was, uh—fantastic."

Stop talking. Stop rambling. Just smile, Bruce. Act normal.

She blushes. Just slightly. But it’s enough to make his heart hammer against his ribs. Was it because of the way he’d called her doll? Or was she just being polite?

He wants to believe the former. But doubt seeps in, as it always does. Because he could read people—always had, ever since childhood. He could pick apart a liar, a manipulator, a fraud, all with a single glance. But her?

She was a mystery. No matter how simple or complex her actions were, he couldn’t read her.

And that terrified him.

Because every time he thought, Maybe she likes me, too, logic would intervene, reminding him of the facts. Why would a woman like her ever look at me that way if I weren’t her employer?

"Mr. Wayne, I’d appreciate some help carrying the dishes to the sink."

Her voice yanks him from his thoughts, and he’s grateful for it.

He clears his throat, nodding as he stands. Without thinking, he starts stacking plates, piling them into an unstable tower.

He lifts it, wobbling slightly—

She reaches out to steady it.

"No, no—I got it all under control. T’his is all easy peasy lemon squeezy!"

What the hell did he just say?

Bruce cringes so hard he wants the earth to swallow him whole. He quickly turns, marching toward the kitchen before he embarrasses himself further.

Behind him, his four sons watch in varying degrees of amusement.

"Huh..." Jason mutters, raising an eyebrow as he plucks a toothpick from the table.

That alone is enough to make Dick snort, nodding in agreement.

"Is Bruce—"

"In love? Probably," Damian interjects flatly, wiping his hands with a sanitary wipe.

"Father’s behavior is completely illogical. That is the only reasonable explanation."

Tim doesn’t say much. He only shrugs—but there’s a knowing smile on his lips as he glances toward the archway, where Bruce and their maid have disappeared.

─────────────────── 𐀔

𝑏𝑢𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑔𝑢𝑚444©

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 <𝟑

[eclipixels]

itoshi user who isagi includes in trashtalk plz plz

e.g

"you're lucky your sister's pretty" or if he's feeling petty "i'm gonna rearrange ur sisters guts btw."

bonus if he complains about rin to user ❤️‍🩹

Y/n Itoshi

Yoichi Isagi x Reader

[947 words]

      You're Sae and Rin's sister. Growing up, all three of you were soccer fans, but with one key difference: while they played the sport, you watched it mainly for the hot players, like Cristiano Ronaldo and Neymar.

      So, when you went to watch Sae and Rin face off against each other in the Blue Lock vs. U20 match and spotted that fine shit Isagi Yoichi, you nearly fainted. And the feelings were definitely mutual.

      "Woah, who’s that?" Isagi pointed toward the stands, where two people who looked like Rin and Sae were sitting with a girl about his age.

      “Our sister.” Rin and Sae said in unison, both raising an eyebrow.

      “Is she single?” Isagi asked.

      "Bro, what?" Rin cringed.

      “Don’t even think about it, blueberry head,” Sae shot a glare at Isagi.

      “Can we stop ogling each other’s sisters, please?” Chigiri begged. He’d been a victim too, with some teammates even hitting on his mom from across the field.

      Isagi wasn’t one to take warnings seriously, and he ended up getting your number.

      You and Isagi had been together for a while now, and at first, Rin had hoped that after just a few moments with Isagi, you'd block him and never look back. But to his frustration, weeks had passed, and you and Isagi seemed to be growing closer every day, your bond strengthening in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

      One evening, as you two relaxed together, Isagi smirked playfully and asked, “Would you be mad at me if I said your brother is really annoying?”

      You laughed, not even hesitating before replying, “Nah, I agree. He can get on my nerves sometimes too.”

      Isagi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, yeah, but he’s still your brother. It’s different when it’s family. To me, he’s just insufferable and downright annoying.”

      —

      "Out of all people?" Rin cursed.

      “Why? What’s wrong with him?” you whined.

      “What—what do you mean?” Rin was about to lose it.

      “He’s not that bad,” Sae muttered.

      “Of course, you’d say that,” Rin grumbled. Sae only liked Isagi because of the goal he scored, which, to be fair, wouldn’t have been possible without Rin’s help.

      “Hey, I didn’t say anything when you had that huge crush on Sailor Neptune,” you shrugged.

      “That’s not even close! She’s fictional, and I was thirteen!” Rin snapped.

      “That was, like, three years ago,” you countered.

      “Oh my god,” Rin groaned, burying his face in his hands.

      “Mom, aren’t you going to do something?” you asked.

      “It’s Y/n’s life. She can date whoever she wants,” your dad chimed in.

      “So if Y/n dated a psychopath, you’d be okay with it?”

      “Yoichi is not a psychopath,” you said, defending him.

      “He basically is. You don’t know the stuff he says on the field! One time he—” Rin began, his face turning bright red. He leaned toward Sae and whispered something in his ear. Sae froze, his usual stoic expression replaced by one of fear and shock.

      “How would he even physically do that? That sounds anatomically impossible,” Sae shuddered.

      “Exactly… and I don’t want to find out,” Rin said, his voice full of concern.

      “But he’s so sweet off the field! You guys talk insane trash all the time on the field. It’s just part of the game,” you sighed.

      “Y/n, there’s a difference between trash talk and telling someone they’re so bad at soccer that their very presence lowers the collective skill of humanity,” Rin said, exasperated.

      “Yeah, but he’s so sweet—like, he buys me flowers and pays for dates,” you countered.

      “That’s the bare minimum,” Rin said flatly.

      “Okay, and? I’m happy. Just leave me alone,” you sighed, brushing past him.

      “Rinnie, calm down. It’s not that big of a deal.” Sae put a shoulder on Rin, trying to alleviate his stress.

      “Easy for you to say, I still gotta see that monster everyday. Meanwhile you get to dilly-dally around until you leave for Spain again and I’m left here all alone having to deal with Y/n and Isagi smooching five feet away from me across the hall.” Rin shouted before walking to his room and slamming the door shut.

      —

      They were at each other’s throats again, clashing with a fiery intensity, each bickering and firing off quick, biting remarks. The air was thick with tension as the game continued.

      Isagi, grinning as he stole the ball from Rin, shot a cutting remark. “I’d say your aim is like cancer, but at least cancer can actually achieve its goal.”

      Rin’s eyes narrowed, his retort swift and venomous. “You’re pathetic and weak. I’m gonna toss you off that high horse of yours in a second.”

      Isagi chuckled darkly, unfazed by the insult. “You’re lucky your sister’s cute, because I have much worse to say,” he shot back, his voice laced with mock amusement.

      And then, just like that, Isagi made the final goal. A brilliant, unstoppable strike that earned him a hat trick in just thirty minutes. The referee’s whistle blew, signaling the end of the game, but the roar of the crowd and Isagi’s loud, confident celebrations drowned everything out.

      “What do you think of that, Rin? My perfect victory! That’s right, I win! In your face, you fucking bitch!” Isagi yelled triumphantly. His grin stretched wide as he pointed at the field, his voice rising in pure glee. “And you know how I’ma be celebrating? Yeah, by rearranging your sister’s guts tonight!”

      “Who even are you?” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. Rin stared at him in stunned silence, his eyes emptying of all emotion, as if the weight of Isagi’s words had drained the very soul from him.

[svtiddiess]

Haunted!

Synopsis: This is your apartment to haunt, so why does it feel like you're the one being tormented?

Pairing: human!Minghao x ghost!reader

Genre: crack, fluff, non-idol! au, fantasy! au

Rating: sfw

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: Minghao's a tsundere, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: Thank you twin @tomodachiii for helping me out with the banner!

Thank you so much @chugging-antiseptic-dye for betaing!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

You perk up at the sound of the door clicking open. That's...new. You haven't heard that sound in ages. The apartment you've been haunting has been empty for years—mostly because you've scared off every single tenant who dared move in. You figured the realtor would've given up on selling the place by now, but apparently not.

Oh well. Just another human to chase away, you think.

Silently, you watch as the human steps inside, and your mouth falls open slightly. He's ethereal—so much so that you wonder if he's even human. His hair is dyed silver-grey and styled into a messy mullet. You thought mullets were out of fashion but, somehow, he makes it work. His features are almost too perfect, as if they were carefully sculpted by an artist. He looks like a statue come to life.

You shake the thought away. Now is not the time to be ogling him—you need to figure out how to scare him off. You watch as he brings in boxes and slowly unpacks, moving with an unbothered calmness that irritates you. You decide to wait until nightfall to make your move. Until then, you'll enjoy some much needed eye-candy.

Night falls, and you watch as the man meticulously goes through his nighttime routine, each step executed with the precision of a surgeon. His fingers work expertly, massaging various products into his skin until he practically glows. You position yourself outside the bathroom door, planning to start simple with a classic jump scare as he steps out.

The door clicks open, and you immediately lunge forward, making yourself visible and letting out your most blood-curdling scream.

...he doesn't even flinch.

He just stands there, staring at you with a mildly irritated expression, as if you're nothing more than a pesky insect buzzing around his face.

Your scream fades into oblivion, and you lower your hands, bewildered. This is not how people usually react to you. Embarrassment creeps in so fast that you might be the first ghost to ever blush.

Rubbing his temple, he lets out a deep sigh. "If you're going to haunt this place, do it quietly. I need my beauty sleep," he mutters before brushing past you and climbing into bed without a second glance.

You stand there, dumbfounded, as he turns off the light, makes himself comfortable, and promptly falls asleep.

...this was not in the script.

Days pass, and you learn the man's name: Minghao. You also learn that scaring him is a lost cause. Every attempt you made to drive him away failed miserably. In fact, it almost feels like you're the one being tormented.

He treats you like a nuisance, constantly shooing you away as if you're the intruder—even though he's the one trespassing in your home. He's even established rules for you, like banning you from the bedroom and bathroom. And it's not like you have to listen to him, you just choose to. It definitely has nothing to do with being afraid of his sharp glares or the way he scolds you like an exasperated parent. Absolutely not.

So, now, you're sprawled out on the living room floor, listlessly staring at the ceiling. You don't even know why—it just feels more interesting than usual.

Footsteps echo through the apartment, but you don't bother looking up.

A long-suffering sigh breaks the silence. "Stop moping around. You're making the place feel depressing."

You whip your head toward Minghao, glaring.

"I wasn't moping," you snap.

"You clearly were," he replies, tone flat. "So, cut it out."

You open your mouth, then close it, trying to come up with a witty comeback. But with nothing coming to mind, your shoulders sag in defeat. If only you were quicker with words. But, unfortunately for you, even when you were alive, you were always a little slow.

So, you just lay there and accept your fate (and defeat at the hands of a human).

Trying to haunt Minghao was the toughest thing you ever tried (counting both your alive and dead self).

You go about your usual routine, aimlessly wandering the apartment—carefully avoiding the bedroom and bathroom as per Minghao's rules—when you spot him eating dinner in the dining area. Your mouth subconsciously waters at the sight of food. Sure, you've been dead for a while, and it's been ages since you last ate, but you miss the taste of food. Just watching him eat, you can almost imagine the flavours tap dancing on your tongue.

You're too busy drooling over his meal to notice the disapproving look he's giving you.

"Out of all the outfits you could've died in, you really chose that?" he says, voice laced with judgment.

Snapped out of your food-induced daze, you turn to him, offended. Sure, your oversized, tattered grey hoodie and stained sweatpants aren't exactly runway-worthy, but did he really have to point it out? It's not like you had the luxury of picking the outfit you were going to die in.

"That was unprovoked," you huff, crossing your arms.

"I'm just saying, if it were me, you'd never catch me dead in that," he shrugs.

And, annoyingly, he's right. Even when he's just lounging at home, he looks effortlessly put together—draped in silks and satin, somehow managing to exude both comfort and extravagance.

"Okay, fashion diva. I didn't ask for a critique," you grumble before stomping off.

As you leave, you fail to notice the small smile playing on Minghao's lips.

You find yourself in the spare room Minghao converted into a study, silently watching as he sketches at his desk. You’ve learned that he's a fashion design student, which explains his ridiculously high standards when it comes to clothes.

You watch in quiet awe as his hands glide across the paper, effortlessly bringing designs to life. You've never been particularly talented at drawing—or at anything, really—so seeing him create masterpiece after masterpiece fills you with admiration.

Just as you're getting lost in observing him, he suddenly stops mid-sketch.

"I need you to stop being so loud," he mutters, catching you off guard.

You blink. "But...I'm not doing anything?"

"Your breathing is too loud."

"...I'm dead," you say, frowning. Can ghosts even breathe?

"Well, whatever you're doing, it's distracting," he grumbles, still not looking at you.

Your shoulders slump, and you pout. If he didn't want you here, he could've just said so. Huffing, you turn to leave.

"I never said to leave," he murmurs. "Just stop being so loud."

You pause, looking at him in confusion. So, he doesn't want you to leave? Your brain short-circuits at the realisation.

Awkwardly shuffling into a corner, you continue watching as he sketches—this time, hyper-aware of your nonexistent breathing.

The sound of the TV fills the living room. You and Minghao sit in comfortable silence, watching a drama. You've come to learn that he has a love-hate relationship with this show—he complains about it constantly but can't seem to stop watching.

He's on one end of the couch, and you're curled up on the other. Somehow, over time, you've come to accept each other's presence. Any space feels emptier when he's not around.

"Do you remember how you died?" Minghao suddenly asks, eyes still glued to the screen.

You glance at him, then stare at the floor, trying to wade through the hazy memories. "No," you murmur. "I- I just woke up one day and realised I was a ghost, bound to this place."

He hums softly in response.

"Do you want to know? Find out how you died?" he asks, still not looking at you.

You hug your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them. A long silence stretches between you, broken only by the noise from the TV.

"I don't know," you admit.

"I could help you," he says, voice quieter this time. When you look up, his dark eyes are finally on you, holding a softness you're not used to seeing on his sharp face.

His offer catches you off guard. No one has ever offered to help you before. Not when you were alive. Not after you died. Your ghostly heart stutters at the thought.

"I have a feeling that if I find out, I'll move on," you say hesitantly. "And I don't think I want to do that. Not yet." Your voice drops to a whisper. "I just want to stay here a little longer.With you."

A faint smile tugs at Minghao’s lips. "I don't mind that."

You smile back, warmth spreading through you—a feeling you haven't felt in a long, long time.

The two of you turn back to the drama, settling into a comfortable silence.

Being with Minghao makes the afterlife feel a little less lonely.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @kwanniehae @ateez-atiny380 @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @smiileflower

[depravitycentral]

Demon Slayer Dick Headcannons (ft. the Hashira)

Tw: yandere, mentions of kidnapping, breeding, cumplay kinda, fem reader, MDNI

Featuring: Giyuu Tomioka, Kyojuro Rengoku, Tengen Uzui, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Obanai Iguro, Gyomei Himejima

It’s pretty – a pale color and perfectly smooth, feeling almost virginal with how perfectly unmarked it is. And of course, it is virginal – that much will become uncomfortably obvious the first time you touch him, Giyuu letting out a near pained grunt after a mere thirty seconds as his orgasm washes over him, embarrassment settling in his stomach because oh god, you must think he’s pathetic now.

Giyuu’s never been one for masturbation, and so the skin on his cock is genuinely extremely sensitive, having had very, very little experience being touched. Just a brush of your finger against his length makes him sputter a bit, Adam’s apple bobbing harshly as he gulps, embarrassment starting to creep up his spine because god, something so small shouldn’t feel so good, especially when it’s just over his robes, not even skin-to-skin contact. He’s bucking his hips at the smallest touch of your thumb against his tip, something like a whimper escaping him when you kitten lick at his base, peppering kisses up the length until you suckle at his tip and see the way his eyes roll back.

When he gets hard he gets rather embarrassed, always trying his best to be subtle about it and not draw attention to it, but the way he cowers over and tries to cover his groin with anything nearby is not nearly as smooth as he’d hope, his cheeks flushed ever so slightly pink over the bridge of his nose.

(And of course, the staring – eyes drilling holes into your body, trying desperately to not ogle at your clothed breasts or the sway of your hips, though he can’t resists a few glances that you’ll almost certainly notice.)

His balls are ever so slightly smaller than expected, not enough to be noticeable at first glance, but they easily fit together in your palm, the area sensitive enough to make him tear up a bit, biting his lip and trying to worm out of your grasp. But don’t be fooled – he likes it, something vaguely sounding like a whine slipping from his lips when you retract your hand, and if he’s especially needy for your attention and touch, he’ll even physically grab your hand and put it back, sucking in a breath and forcing his body to relax.

He's generally very quiet when he’s orgasming, the only visual cue being the way his face twists up into something entirely unexpected from the stoic, emotionless Hashira – he’s gasping, eyes fluttering closed and his eyebrows screwing together.

His body shakes, his abs visibly clenching and unclenching, his thighs flexing and his hips bucking in small, almost imperceptible thrusts, as if his body’s unsure of whether he wants to run away from the pleasure or get closer, impossibly close to have more and more of you. His cum doesn’t taste too bad – a neutral, musky flavor, though luckily without too much saltiness or bitterness.

This is great news for you, because while Giyuu won’t admit it, the feeling of your mouth on his cock has his whole body going slack, his vision becoming a bit splotchy because the sensation of something so warm and wet moving against him has every rational thought leaving his brain.

He’s normally not very adventurous or expressive in bed, trying hard to not turn you off and struggling to become relaxed enough to actually enjoy it, but something about the sight of you on your knees, looking up at him while his cock appears and disappears past your lips has him losing all control, a small moan of your name falling from him while he lightly thrusts his hips, not caring if he looks pathetic or depraved. Not when you’re mouthing at him, drool spilling from the corner of your lips, tongue prodding at his slit and suckling on his tip, as if you’re trying to coax the cum out of him. His cum is runny, and tends to stain things.

(Something alarming when you realize just how many of your clothing items have very, very similar mystery stains.)

He’s not picky about where he finishes, feeling grateful that you’re touching him at all, really, but if he had to choose, he’d pick inside of you because it just feels more intimate that way. It feels right, primal even, and he’ll often have to take a few minutes between rounds simply because his orgasms crash through him with such intensity that he can’t form a coherent thought for a few moments afterwards.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you’re straddling him, riding him and pressing your hands against his chest for leverage. He generally likes positions where you’re in control more, finding himself enjoying the passive, observing role while you take the lead.

(It bruises his pride a bit to confess it, but there’s something so, so very arousing about the idea of being a mere object and tool for your pleasure. And when you’re scooping your hips atop him, grinding and bouncing on him like he’s nothing more than a toy to get off with, Giyuu finds his breath gets heavy, his palms sweaty, every clap of your ass against his thighs bringing him closer and closer to his inevitable orgasm.)

He likes the way you can make the pace and angle exactly what you need, the way he can feel every inch of your cunt sucking him in, and of course the visual. The way you look at him with sultry, pleasure-filled eyes, your lips parted in that pretty ‘o’ shape that he sees when he closes his eyes at night. He has a perfect view of his cock appearing and disappearing inside of you, his skin glistening with your slick and a pretty little ring of white sitting against the coarse black hair of his pelvis.

His hands will grip onto your hips tightly, almost too tight, the only way he can anchor himself in the moment, living and tangible proof that you’re really here with him, touching him, wanting him, and he’s gripping onto you as if he’s afraid it’s all still just a fantasy.

But you’ll see the way his eyes are constantly darting to your bouncing chest, unblinking and fascinated as he watches your nipples grow hard, the plap plap noise of your skin smacking against your ribcage making him practically drool.

(His grows even redder if you grab his hands and use them to cup your breasts, telling him in a breathy, slurred voice to touch me, please Giyuu then you’ll be taken aback by the way he immediately squeezes and gropes, kneading and pinching at your nipples with a voracity that makes your hips stutter. And when he leans in to kiss you, his tongue immediately pushing past your lips and tracing your teeth, just know that it’s a matter of time before his orgasm hits. A matter of seconds, really.)

He likes the intimacy, and how he can feel even more connected and close to you, all the while seeing the way his cock makes you feel.

It’s a solid five inches with average girth, a few thick veins decorating the underside of his length. Kyojuro’s average in nearly every way, with the stark exception being his stamina.

His refractory period is nearly non-existant – he seems to be always hard in your presence, always sporting at least a semi any time he catches a whiff of your scent or hears even the echo of your voice. And it’s obvious, too, in his uniform – there’s always a tent of some sort in his pants, and the truly unfortunate thing is that Kyojuro doesn’t seem to care. He’s not making any effort to hide it when it’s just the two of you, even subconsciously moving his haori back and jutting his hips out ever so slightly so that you’ll notice and perhaps even be enticed by what you’re seeing.

He’s not especially meticulous about grooming himself, feeling that sex should be natural and as you are. To shave would be removing a part of his authentic self, and so there’s always a rather thick bush of dark, curly hairs sitting at the base of his cock, brushing against your clit and making you squirm when he’s got you settled on his lap, warming him while he cuddles you and presses kisses against every inch of your skin he can reach.

(This of course also extends to you – he prefers you don’t shave or wax, and once you’re trapped under his roof he simply won’t let you, denying you access to anything sharp enough to cut. And he’ll make his appreciation for your natural body very, very obvious, even going so far as to bury his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply and sighing when he’s knelt between your legs, letting your scent engulf him as he licks his lips and dives into your cunt.)

He’s decently sensitive, always letting out these pleasured little sighs, a boyish grin sitting on his face every time you touch him because oh, isn’t this heaven, feeling your pretty lips and fingers and cunt on him, just as he’s so longed for?

His cum is warm. Like, unnervingly warm – he’s always running a few degrees warmer than you it seems, every cuddle and press of his body against your own feeling startingly hot, and when his cum lands on your skin it’ll feel like fire. Not painful, but right on the edge of it. It’s thick, too, having the consistency of melted ice cream and leaving a sort of residue on your skin that he’ll gladly lick off of you.

(Cuteness aggression tends to affront him after he’s orgasmed, still out of breath and staring down at your disheveled, messy state underneath him, his cum staining your skin and sweat lining your brow.)

His stamina is off the charts, capable of fucking you for hours on end and holding off his orgasm if he concentrates hard enough. However, his refractory period is also quite short, leading to him instead preferring to come multiple times and not edge himself as strongly, thinking that the act of orgasming for you is proof of how deeply he’s attracted to you, how strongly your touch and words and presence affect him.

And he’ll make you very aware of when he’s orgasming, too – he’s loud, groaning your name and all sorts of praises, that same breathless laughter falling from his lips as he buries his face against the crook of your neck, fingertips pressing against your skin so hard that bruises form the next morning.

(Which he’s inconsolable about, really, the next morning fussing over you and promising to never do it again, only to get lost in the pleasure a few nights later and leave you with fresh bruises. He’ll always beg you to scratch down his back as he thrusts into you as repayment, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the pain-tinged pleasure, proudly wearing your scratches as a badge of love. He’ll even brag to Tengen about it, proudly proclaiming that he’s able to pleasure you so well that you simply must mark him as yours.)

His favorite way for you to touch him is when he’s fucking you in a deep, intimate mating press. He likes the fact that he can get as deep as physically possible in this position, always angling his hips to brush against the front of your walls and against that spongey spot that makes you whine his name, the sound making his head spin and his tongue coming out to lick at his lips.

He loves feeling the way you clench down onto him, the grip you leave on him almost making it hard to pull out and push back in, and idea of you never wanting him to leave you only furthering his thrusts, becoming faster and more bruising.

He’ll have you hold one of your knees against your chest, the other tangled in his hair while he supports himself on his elbow, holding your other leg up while his other hand permanently rests against your clit, drawing circles and tracing the kanji of his name over and over again. The sound of his hips and balls clapping against your ass encourages him to move faster too, and the sight of your breasts bouncing and jiggling underneath him makes his head dip, enveloping a nipple in his mouth and sucking.

(Sucking hard enough to leave you squirming, almost as if he’s expecting something to come out – the mere thought makes him groan, teeth lightly nibbling at your skin and his hips stuttering ever so slightly.)

He just thinks the positions blends the perfect mix of intimacy, eye contact, physical touch, and pleasure, and this is his go-to position that he’ll always default to any time the two of you are naked with one another.

You can request something else, asking him with a sultry hand on his chest to take you from the back or let you ride him, but you’ll always find yourself eventually back up in this position, his sweaty chest brushing against your nipples as he moans and begs for you to tell him you love him.

It’s a girthy six inches, with a near comically large, bulbous tip. It’s the kind of cock that makes you immediately freeze, simultaneously intimidated and immediately salivating, and he knows it. He’s a fan of all things extravagant, and this certainly extends to his cock – there’s a rather obnoxious piercing sitting right underneath his tip, the small metal ball framing an acidy green gem that manages to brush against your g-spot perfectly when he’s got you bent over.

It’s a pretty pink color when he’s flaccid, but when he grows hard it turns to a deep near fuchsia color, never quite making it above the ninety degree mark because it’s simply too heavy. He takes great care in grooming himself, always making sure that he’s impeccably trimmed and clean. He likes to leave the dark pubic hairs in interesting designs and patterns, all sorts of shapes gracing his navel.

(He loves when you trace a fingers along the perimeter of the hair, his skin erupting into goosebumps at the feeling, his cock stirring to life because the tasing sensation is simply too much for him.)

He even takes the time to very carefully trim up his balls, wanting to make sure that everything is pristine and perfect when you touch him – he wants you to be impressed, after all, and he waits with baited breath the first time you see him nude, eyes watching your each and every expression because he wants to see exactly what you’re thinking and feeling.

(This happens every time he’s naked before you, even if it’s the hundredth time – he’ll even ask if you like what you see? Maybe you should taste it, too, to get the full picture.)

His cum is thick and tends to stay where it lands, often not dripping and instead just drying against your skin or lips or shirt or panties, wherever he feels the urge to finish. And he likes to mix it up – his favorite places are of course inside of you, your face, and your ass, but he’s game to try anything you’d like.

He likes to finish inside you when he’s feeling especially worn down or overwhelmed by his job, clutching onto you and groaning in your ear as he pushes himself as deeply as possibly and letting go, filling you with so much that it leaks out of you even with his cock still plugging you up.

He likes to finish on your face, too, because it’s just so dirty and taboo and you look so naughty when you’re looking up at him with your tongue lolled out, a flare of possessiveness and adrenaline making him feverishly fist his cock mere inches from your face, groaning out an uneven take it as he lands spurt after spurt in stripes across your face.

And of course, your ass – he loves to watch the fat bounce back against him as he fucks you, smacking at it and grabbing it in fistfuls, spreading your cheeks apart to get a better view of his cock fucking into you. And seeing it stained with his cum, even a bit dribbling down and settling into the folds and pockets of your cunt makes him whistle, giving himself just a few more strokes to ensure he’s given you every drop he can.

He’s loud when he’s finishing, always narrating what it feels like, groaning your name and even breathlessly laughing, still partially in awe because he’s fantasized about fucking you for so damn long, and you’re even better than he’d been hoping for. He also tends to thrust throughout the entirety of his orgasms, going even harder and faster, losing control for a few seconds because the pleasure is blinding him and driving him to fuck into you harder, faster, deeper, anything to prolong the pleasure your body is giving him.

His favorite way for you to touch his cock is when you’re giving him head while he reciprocates, in a somewhat modified 69 position. However, unlike the traditional, Tengen prefers to be on top of you – he likes the way he can hold onto your thighs, keeping you perfectly spread for him so that you can’t close him out or run when he gets you closer and closer.

Besides, the way he can (very) carefully thrust lightly down your throat from the angle gets his ears ringing, the sense of dominance he feels over you making him drool against your clit. He likes the depth he can get, and although he’s conscious of choking you, the small gagging noises you make when he goes just a hair too deep have precum dribbling against your tongue, his cock pulsing against your lips.

His favorite sexual experiences are when you’re both getting something out of it, and so he’s a big fan of pleasuring you simultaneously. But with this position he gets the most control, able to tease you and nose at your clit all the while letting his own pleasure steadily build.

And when he comes, something about the physical position makes him feel like he’s genuinely coming down your throat, cum settling against your uvula and dripping down your throat. It’s romantic, he thinks, and when your hands come up to grasp onto his thighs Tengen feels shivers roll down his spine because oh, you’re just so fucking cute.

He likes it, and when you pull off to take a small break, stroking at his cock, he likes when you run his tip along the outline of your lips, your cheeks, you jaw and collarbone, even your nipples if you can maneuver it. It makes him groan, licking long, flat stripes against your hole, a thumb working diligently, frantically at your clit because you’re getting him so very close and he needs you to come before he does.

It’s just a guilty pleasure of his, and while he won’t often request it, it’s his go-to when he’s been away from you for long missions, desperate to kiss you and taste you.

(And due to his near non-existent refractory period, it’s the warm up to fucking you good and proper.)

Sanemi’s overall thoroughly average in terms of length and girth, but the thing that sets him apart is how genuinely heavy his cock is. When you’re holding it in your palms, it weighs against your skin, feeling thick and intimidating, throbbing hard enough for you to feel. He’s got no experience before you, and when you first slowly exhale and marvel at his sheer weight, he grows embarrassed, terrified that you don’t like what you’re seeing.

(He won’t explicitly ask you if there’s something wrong with it, but he’s carefully watching your reactions, holding his breath and managing to mutter out a quit staring just to simply end the insecurity swimming in his chest.)

He’s scared that you’re disappointed, cheeks tinging pink and struggling to look you in the eye, but he’s putty in your hands the moment your skin touches his. When he’s got you bent over, hands groping and grabbing at every inch of your body that he can reach, you can feel how heavy he is inside of you, too – it’s impossible to ignore the way he’s bullying into you, stretching you and feeling like he’s practically in your throat with how overwhelming the sensation is.

Matching his length, a pair of sensitive balls sit firmly underneath his base, always a rosy pink color and twitching alongside his length when he’s especially hard. They’re extremely sensitive, however, and while Sanemi will never, ever tell you to stop touching him, you’ll see the way he clenches his fist and squeezes his eyes shut when you play with them just a hair too hard, the strained groan that falls from his lips sounding more pained than he wants it to.

He likes it though – you just have to be gentle, and if you really want to see him melt, gently suck on one and let your tongue loll around it like some sort of musky candy – it makes his cheeks go red, his lip stuck between his teeth and his hips twitching because oh fuck you look so damn good drooling all over him like that.

His cum is hot, and there’s a lot. He’s pent up – he doesn’t masturbate often, instead letting all the rage and irritation fester and channeling it into swinging his sword. And so, each time you touch him, Sanemi has so much to give you that it inevitably ends up leaking out of you.

If you’re on your knees for him, all pretty and staring up at him through doe-eyed lashes with pouty lips, he’s coming down your throat, grasping onto your hair and simply keeping you there, cum spilling out from the sides of your mouth because there’s simply too much and you can’t swallow quickly enough to keep up.

When he’s folding you into a mating press, mouth hot at your ear as he gasps and groans and growls, when he eventually calls out what vaguely sounds like your name in a slurred frenzy along with fuck and yes yes yes, he’s coming so much that it physically forces him out of your cunt, the sheer volume filling you up so well that there’s not even room for him.

And Sanemi absolutely loves to see you covered in it, too – he never suggests the idea because he doesn’t want it to feel disrespectful, but he absolutely loves to finish on your face. There’s something about the way you look underneath him, with your tongue lolling out and your palms pressing against his thighs as if bracing yourself that gets him throwing his head back, his orgasm ripping through him with enough force to leave his knees almost collapsing underneath him.

(And if you were to lick your lips and then reach out to lick him clean of every last drop? Well, please don’t say anything about the way he whimpers, a few sad, pathetic little spurts of cum ooze out, a last ditch attempt to give you absolutely everything he can.)

He’s a dribbler, cum oozing from the tip in a steady stream that never seems to end, and when he’s coming he always blindly reaches out to grab something to ground him. More often than not it’s you that he’s clutching onto, his grip tight enough to leave slight bruises (that he will feel incredibly guilty for the next morning). It’s to ground him, to remind him that you’re real, that you’re with him, that you’re not merely a figment of his imagination or some poor, pathetic stand-in that he can fuck and desperately pretend is you.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you’re seated on his lap, straddling him with nothing separating you. He loves fucking you, of course, something primal and animalistic in him satisfied with the knowledge that he’s claiming you from the inside out, but there’s something equally pleasurable – if not more so – about the intimacy of simply holding you and feeling your cunt slowly and steadily grind against him.

He wants both of you completely nude, your tits pressing against his chest and your lips attached to his and he slowly guides your hips, a hand clutching at either side as he brings you forward and back, the wetness of your folds coating him in a thick layer of you and letting him slide easier.

It’s heaven to him – the perfect vantage point, though he’s much too embarrassed to admit why. Truthfully, it’s because the position almost feels like you’re holding him – he’ll often just wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you as tightly against him as possible, listening to your heartbeat and trying to match the rhythm of his breathing with yours.

Often, if he’s feeling particularly vulnerable or if he’s just returned from a long, grueling mission, he’ll slip a nipple into his mouth, gently suckling and biting, closing his eyes and focusing on the way that you’re so very warm and soft in his arms.

It’s comfort thing, more than anything else, as if being with you in such a raw, intimate way means that he’s safe, comfortable, loved and wanted. It’s sappy and he’d rather die than admit it, but you’ll notice the way his eyes grow red, tears prickling at the corners because it just feels so damn good to hold you like this.

He’s a bit shorter than average, coming in just slightly under five inches, but Obanai has a pretty significant girth – significant enough to get you gasping the first time he fucks you, the feeling of being so stretched out leaving you gasping for air.

You’ll always be able to tell when he’s close to coming because everything literally throbs – you can feel him pulsing inside of you, the sensation making you squirm because it’s so very arousing but so very weird against your walls. And it’s a constant, too – from the moment he gets hard, it’s constantly pulsing against your palm, his cheeks bright red and embarrassment running through him but he just can’t stop, too turned on by the sight and smell and taste of you, and his body is betraying that.

He’s pale everywhere on his body, delicate skin that’s shockingly soft and so, so very sensitive – one touch against his chest gets him shivering, every nerve in his body feeling on fire because all he can focus on is the fact that you’re willingly touching him and you’re so much softer than he’s imagined.

(And he’s extensively imagined. Frequently.)

His cock is pale, too, with hardly any color differentiation from base to tip. As he gets near his orgasm, the tip turns a pinkish color, the blood rushing in and leaving him dizzy, and his entire navel area turns a pink color too. He’s pale enough that if you try hard enough you can even see a few of the near-surface veins dipping down under the tuft of dark hair on his navel. And it’s a rare occurrence that Obanai shaves – it’s not for lack of trying, but rather that he’s simply worried that he’ll look strange without the hair to cover himself, worried that you won’t like what you’ll see if you can see the entire expanse of him.

(He’s insecure that he’s not perfect enough for you – that his cock is too small or his balls are shaped strangely, and a single compliment about it from you will have him going wide-eyed, swallowed hard and a large, insistent glob of pre-cum oozing from his tip because oh god, do you really mean it?)

His cum is watery and, quite frankly, doesn’t taste great. It’s remarkably bitter – your face screws up the first time it lands on your tongue, the sight making Obanai shrivel up in embarrassment, mortified that you’ll no longer want to touch him.

(He immediately tries to change his diet to almost exclusively foods he thinks will make him taste better, even swallowing his pride and approaching Tengen about it, embarrassment making it difficult to spit out the words.)

He’s a shooter, the arc looking truly pornographic because he tends to throw his head back when he’s coming, eyes squeezed tightly shut and almost a grimace overcoming his features, all while hips jut out and cum practically pours out of him. He prefers finishing on your stomach, simply because there’s something about the sight of you stained white that makes his possessiveness flare up. If it’s a particularly powerful orgasm (as they all are, when you’re the one touching him), he’ll be out of breath, cheeks still flushed pink as he hovers over you, mesmerized and letting his thumb dip into the cum, smearing it across your skin.

He likes it best when the two of you finish at the same time – simultaneous orgasms, if only because Obanai knows that as you get closer you tend to reach out and grab for whatever is nearest to you, and he’ll purposefully maneuver himself so that you’re clutching onto him, the sight of you moaning for him and shaking hurtling him towards his own orgasm.

(He’ll often scoop up a bit of his own cum and your slick, mixing them together with his fingers, swallowing heavily and letting his finger brush against his tongue, eyes rolling to the back of his head because the taste of you together is making his cock throb again, slowly rising up to ninety degrees, desperate to give you more more more.)

His favorite way for you to touch him is a slow, intimate handjob. He’s typically a little bit harsh when he’s touching himself, his tugs leaving his arm sore, his fingers clutched so tightly around his shaft that it’s nearly suffocating. And yet, when it’s your fingers wrapped around him, Obanai finds that there’s something indescribably sensual and passionate about the soft, slow strokes you give him. The softness of your fingers combined with the way you carefully, almost hesistantly grip him leaves his head spinning, the pleasure somehow feeling much more acute despite the lessened stimulation.

He likes the way your thumb comes up often to brush over slit, collected the precum and letting it guide your hand up and down, up and down, his toes curling and his fists clenching because you’re being such a damn tease, making his hips buck up over and over.

And there’s something about the eye contact that gets him panting – the attention leaves him squirming as you let your eyes rest on him, the intensity making every brush of your fingers against his sensitive skin amplify a thousand times.

He wants you to talk to him, to let your voice get all low, to call him all sorts of possessive petnames that only fluster him more, a pointed thrust against your fist with each name. My pretty boy is his favorite, even as embarrassing as it is, and if you lean in and kiss along his collarbone and jaw, complimenting him about his looks, his ability to care for you, how he makes you feel he’s immediately gasping, abs clenching wildly and his balls visibly clenching as he paints your hand white with cum, the liquidy consistency making it run down your knuckles like rivers, dripping down onto your thighs and making Obanai suck in a breath because fuck fuck fuck you’re still going and it’s so sensitive, too sensitive but he doesn’t want you to ever ever stop-

He wants to feel cared for, wanted, loved, and even something as simply as you jerking him off with a few well-timed flutter of your lashes and purred words leave him putty in your hands.

It’s big and Gyomei knows it. Easily a solid seven inches and thick enough to leave your fingers barely touching when you wrap them around his girth, even when he’s not fully hard. The skin is slightly tanner than the rest of him, with his tip flushing into an even darker shade matching the two low, heavy balls that sit snugly underneath his shaft, hefty enough to feel substantial in your palms as you cup and squeeze at them.

Tufts of dark hair decorate his navel, the curls thick and almost coarse, tickling your nose as you take him down your throat and tickling your clit as you oh so slowly inch your way down on his lap. Even the sight of him flaccid makes you suck in a sharp breath, nerves starting to eat away at you because there’s absolutely no fucking way it’s fitting inside of you. It just looks too heavy and big and full, veins protruding along the sides in enough detail that you can practically see them pulsing.  

And really, your fears aren’t unwarranted – Gyomei can feel the movement with every step he takes, the sensation of his cock brushing against his undergarments and his balls pressed against his thigh always leaving him slightly uncomfortable, always consciously aware of the feeling. (He’s extremely grateful for the loose nature of the Demon Slayer Corps uniform pants – otherwise, the bulge would be unbearably visible, even when he’s completely soft.)

All things considered, it takes Gyomei a long time to orgasm. He’s not terribly sensitive (not for a lack of experience – he has none, he’s just genuinely not the type to immediately buck his hips and gasp at the slightest bit of stimulation), but finds that steady, consistent pleasure is the golden ticket to finding his high.

Specifically, pleasure that involves a lot of lubricant: spit, slick, hell, even blood when you’re on your period and needing something to help relieve the pressure. He likes how smooth it all is – the slick schluck schluck sound of him rolling his hips into yours makes his knees weak, the wet feeling of your cunt clenching down on him enough to get him groaning lowly and grasping onto your hips hard enough to almost leave bruises. He’ll refuse to fuck you until you’re absolutely dripping, wet to the point of insanity because he’s been fingering you for what feels like hours and you can’t handle the teasing anymore.

It’s only then, after he’s brought you to your high some three times with his tongue and the pads of his index fingers that he’ll finally, finally press inside, moving slowly and chanting what sounds like prayers intermixed with your name under his breath, almost as if you’re some god he’s thanking over and over for the feeling of you.

It takes him a while to get off, but there’ll be a few signs that he’s getting close – his thrusts turn from deep, slow, almost tentative, to quicker and more clipped, the actions somehow feeling needier and more desperate because he’s holding you in place and his breath is stuttered as he gasps and exhales, pleasure hitting him like a tidal wave and sending his eyes rolling back.

He produces an almost obscene amount of cum with every orgasm, ropes spilling out in long, rather impressive spurts. It’s thick, almost viscous, leaving a residue against your skin that he’ll oftentimes idly rub at when he’s pulled you against his chest, cock still nestled inside you as tears flow down his cheeks from the intensity of it all. It’s bitter, almost earthy, and while Gyomei doesn’t expect you to swallow, you’ll be earned with the smallest, quietest little whimper once he hears you audibly gulping.

His favorite way for you to touch his cock is when you’re simply riding him. There’s something about the way you grip him in this position that makes his toes curl, his voice getting a hair deeper because it just feels too good. He likes the way you control the pace – sex feels better to him when you feel good, and having you dictate the speed, angle, and depth gives Gyomei an insight into exactly what you like.

(And he’s committing every detail to memory – the sounds you’re making, the way your nails bite into his chest as you steady yourself, the way your ass bounces against his thighs over and over, the tensing of your legs as his tip brushes against that spot that makes you gasp and moan his name…)

He likes the way he can feel more of you in this position, too – the curve of your ass pressing against his balls, the slight pressure pinching and giving him just the slightest bit of pain that makes blood rush south, cock throbbing inside of you because god he wants you to go even harder.

He can feel your stomach pressed against his navel when you lean forward in this position, your muscles growing tired and starting to give out, the softness of your skin against the overly sensitive area right above his shaft making him grasp onto your hips and thrust upwards, meeting you halfway and mumbling out your name as you whine.

It just feels more intimate this way – like you’re using him, like his body is just a tool for your pleasure. And really, that’s exactly how Gyomei sees it – his cock is your cock, and he’ll thank the heavens each and every time you so much as look at it.

[elleaitch22]

Terms of Endearment

Chapter 4: Terms and Conditions

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: Hope you love it! Comments and messages motivate me to write faster! xx Elle

Warnings: References to past abusive relationship, self-worth issues, power imbalances

Word Count: 3.7k

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Azzi hadn’t slept well for the rest of the week. She spent her nights tossing and turning, weighing the pros and cons to agreeing with Paige’s offer.

Paige had reverted to her normal, detached self by Wednesday morning, and Azzi was relieved to know that if she accepted the offer, it wouldn’t be obvious to her coworkers.

When Azzi’s answer was still up in the air on Thursday, she spent the night writing an actual pros and cons list.

Pros

Paige was obnoxiously wealthy, so whatever compensation she offered could have Azzi out of debt in months.

She could seem desirable again, even if she wasn’t truly desired by her “partner.”

She wouldn’t always be so lonely, since she’d able to spend more time with Soleil.

She would feel loved, purely loved, by Soleil.

Cons

Azzi is easily attached, and her heart would definitely break when Paige met someone new and decided to end their arrangement.

She would probably forget that everything is fake at some point.

Worst of all, Azzi might find out that Grant had been right about everything. She wasn’t worth anything by being a pretty little trophy.

The potential benefits greatly outweigh the consequences.

She could gain her livelihood, or she could lose her heart. Or worse, she could feel like she belonged somewhere, just to be reminded that she didn’t.

If something doesn’t scare you it’s not worth it, Azzi.

Her mind was made up.

She was going to accept Paige’s offer — and hope, pray, and beg that she wouldn’t fall for the blonde in the meantime.

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Azzi felt confident walking toward room 35, or at least that’s what she told herself. She was wearing a short, black corset and her favorite pair of floor shoes. All of her hair had been gathered to sit on the top of her head, intentional in its imperfection. She wore dramatic makeup — a brown smoked out eye and red lip.

Tonight’s look was armor, but her chest still tightened with every step she took.

She walked into the suite at 10:58, heart racing, and froze for a second.

Paige was already there, stretched lazily across the couch, one arm draped along the back, the other nursing a Dirty Shirley.

“Hi, Paige.” Her voice small, but steady.

The woman in question smirked, lifting her drink lazily to her lips. “Good evening, Azzi. I’m assuming you made up your mind?”

Azzi shifts on her feet, fighting the urge to cross her arms. She needs something to do with her hands. Tug at a curl, fix her corset, hide. “Um, yes. I’d like to accept.” She hesitated, then added, “But I would like more information.”

Paige tilted her head, studying the brunette intently. “Well, first,” she said, her voice smooth, low, and disarmingly soft, “I need you to look at me.”

The words slipped into Azzi’s bloodstream like warm liquor, and she was helpless to do anything but obey. Without thinking, she lifted her chin, locking eyes with her — and immediately felt the air leave her lungs. Paige’s gaze was steady, calm, utterly unbothered, like Azzi’s nerves, her overthinking, her entire body were small and manageable things to her.

“Good. Thank you, Azzi.” A beat of silence. “Come sit.”

It wasn’t a command exactly, but Azzi knew it wasn’t a request either.

A blush bloomed high on her cheeks. Every step across the room felt like a giant’s, even though the only audible sound in the room was the low voice of Brent Faiyaz and the light clicking of her shoes.

When she reached the couch, she hesitated for a second, not wanting to sit too close or too far.

Over the next hour, the mood shifted. Azzi had expected teasing, ogling, or inappropriate comments, but Paige had don’t none of those things. Instead, they went through all expectations, like an informal contract.

No signatures, no pens, no pressure, just Paige steadily outlining terms, giving Azzi the space to breathe, question, or push back if she wanted.

Azzi was completely disarmed by the ten-minute mark.

The arrangement would initially last for six months, with the option to renew if both parties agreed. Like any typical job, Azzi would need to give Paige two weeks of notice before ending it.

Azzi didn’t say it, but she was relieved. She would not be trapped. It was a small kindness that meant everything to her.

She listened as Paige explained the appearances she would have to make as Paige’s partner: business events, charity galas, and dinners. There would also be at least one weekly outing with Paige, Soleil, or both for appearances.

Azzi agreed with everything until Paige added, “Apparel will be styled by Jana. All expenses covered.”

Grant used to dress her, and she hated it. “I can pick my own outfits, right?”

There was a playful glint in Paige’s eye, “Of course, J always provides options.”

When the two discussed physical affection, Azzi bit the inside of her pink cheeks.

It wasn’t mandated, but handholding, hugs, cheek kisses – casual intimacy – would be what sold their illusion.

Azzi sent up a silent prayer because God knows Azzi is a sucker for a forehead or cheek kiss. This was going to end very badly for her.

The confidentiality clause came next. Paige offered an NDA, but when she said it wasn’t required, Azzi declined.

“I don’t really have any close friends in the city.”

When the conversation moved to compensation, the first crackle of real tension sparked between them.

“I want to pay you five thousand a week, “Paige said smoothly, swirling the ice in her glass, a tequila soda now. “Minimum”

Azzi choked on the espresso martini Paige had ordered for her. She stared at the blonde, eyes and mouth wide. “Five thousand a month would be more than enough! I don’t –”

Paige’s answering grin was lazy, slow, and pure trouble. “I think you should just accept the offer, Azzi,” she said, melting deeper into the couch. “Because honestly, I wanted to do more.”

Azzi’s hands curled into fists. “You’re being ridiculous. What if I don’t accept?”

“If you don’t want to agree, that’s fine.” Azzi brightened, not noting the smirk covered by the glass. “I’ll just pay off all your shit now.”

Azzi blinked, cheeks burning. “You don’t even have any of my account information.”

Paige lowered her glass a bit, letting Azzi see her smirk. “You really don’t think I could figure it out?” Azzi’s heart stuttered watching Paige take another sip of her drink, “Now I’m tempted to since you doubt me.”

Azzi’s mouth opened, then shut. Her thighs pressed together involuntarily. There was a thrill in the threat. Grant wanted the restrict her money, but Paige wanted to give her more. Her instance helped knock down another wall.

“Please,” Paige added, voice dry as summer heat, “keep arguing, so I can pay you more.”

Azzi folded.

When Paige informed her that she’d be paying an extra thousand dollars for major events, Azzi had to physically restrain herself from crossing her arms and pouting. She muttered something unintelligible under her breath that made Paige laugh, a low and genuine sound that tugged at something vulnerable inside Azzi. “That’s what I thought,” Paige smirked.

They moved through the rest of the agreement without any issues – conduct expectations, social media, and emotional boundaries.

Paige was relaxed a lazily throughout the entire conversation.

But when the subject of perks came up again, Paige shifted slightly. More careful and deliberate now that she had a better understanding of Azzi Fudd.

Azzi listed as Paige explained – the respect, the equal treatment, the way the media would spin the story of Chicago’s favorite bachelorette finally off the market.

It almost reassured her until Paige popped her happy little bubble.

She cleared her through and said, almost casually, “I want you to live in my building.”

Azzi stiffened. She set her martini glass down roughly.

“Absolutely not.”

Paige flushed – the first real crack in her shiny armor – and lifted her hands slightly, almost as if she wanted to show she wasn’t armed. “Hear me out, Azzi. Please.”

Azzi arched a brow and folded her arms across the corset. She fought a smirk at the way Paige’s eyes briefly darted to her cleavage. Another crack in the armor.

“I own the building,” Paige said quickly. “I also –” She hesitated, “I’ve never dated anyone publicly before. Even when I was married, no one knew until after the fact. So, if I’m going to be seen with someone, it’s supposed to be serious. Marriage serious.”

Azzi stared at her, stunned. “No one even knows where I live!”

Paige’s voice sharpened. “You don’t think they’re going to find out?” She pressed her fingers into her temple. “I’m a celebrity, Azzi. They’re going to figure it out. They’re going to know everything about you in a few days.”

A breath.

“I need to protect you. Please let me.”

Paige didn’t command it.

She didn’t even say it like an order.

It was…pleading.

She was pleading to keep Azzi safe.

Something cracked open in Azzi’s chest.

Whether Paige had picked up on her need for safety or simply cared in her own stubborn way, Azzi didn’t know.

But either way – she was sold.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Azzi found out on Saturday morning that Paige Bueckers didn’t do anything halfway. At 7 a.m. sharp, movers were outside her apartment, loading her things into a truck bound for her new home for the next six months.

About thirty minutes in, one of the movers casually mentioned that a car was waiting downstairs.

She scrambled to get dressed, pulling on biker shorts, an oversized t-shirt, and a pair of worn Crocs. She brushed her teeth in a hurry, and her hair was tossed up in an extremely messy ponytail.

Waiting outside the blacked-out Escalade was a tall, slim brunette, way too smiley for this hour. “Good morning Ms. Fudd,” she chirped happily. “My name’s Morgan. Paige assigned me to be your driver.”

Azzi blinked. Obviously, she hadn’t woken up all the way. “Oh. Please call me Azzi. And only for today, right?” She questioned.

“Oh, no,” Morgan shrugged like it was completely normal. “Just whenever she tells me to stop, I guess.”

Her brain buffered. They hadn’t talked about car service. Azzi yanked her phone from where it was tucked in her bra, slowly shutting her eyes and realizing that she didn’t even have Paige’s number. She huffed loudly, stomping to the back door.

“I don’t care what she told you to do, but I need you to take me to her. Now!”

The door opened from the inside.

Paige sat there, legs cross, with a perfectly shaped brow arched like she had been expecting Azzi’s reaction.

“Good morning, Princess,” she smirked.

Azzi climbed in with a scowl, “You didn’t say anything about a driver yesterday.”

“No, but I did say I was going to provide protection.” She turned to the front, “Take us home, Morgan.”

Azzi fastened her seatbelt and crossed her arms dramatically.

“Azzi, the first event is tonight. I meant to tell you last night, but it was a little late. I figured we could kill two birds with one stone. Moving you in and doing your first fitting.”

Azzi glared at the relaxed blonde. “Do we have time for anything I want? Like breakfast?”

“Oh, you’re hangry.” She smiled. Like an honest to God grin. Azzi almost melted. Paige looked to pure, not at all like the hard ass Azzi had been used to seeing.

“We have breakfast together on Saturdays. You can meet the rest of the family. You’ll be interacting at events, so you need to be comfortable with them.” She continued.

The brunette’s mood lifted at the promise of breakfast. She leaned her head back against the seat, the buildings passing in a blur. Of course, Paige owned a building in Downtown Chicago.

But when Morgan finally stopped, Azzi’s jaw dropped.

Paige owned the Aurelia.

Morgan got out and opened the door, giggling at Azzi’s gaping expression. Azzi slid out of the car, jumping slightly at the hand that gently landed on the small of her back.

Paige gently steered Azzi through the lobby. She didn’t speak to anyone, distracted by the fact that she could see her reflection in the glossy, black floors. They had a short trek to the elevator where she pressed her thumb into a seemingly random spot.

“Penthouse 8,” said a soft, robotic voice.

Azzi looked up startled, realizing her gaze had been dropped the entire walk through the lobby. In the mirrored elevator walls, she was able see Paige.

It dawned on her that she hadn’t really looked at Paige since she picked her up this morning. She wasn’t in a flawless suit, there was nothing flawless about her for once. Her gray sweatpants hung low on her hips, and she was swallowed by an old, navy UConn sweatshirt. Her blonde locks were left down, looking effortlessly soft and silky.

She looked soft, not strict. Comfortable, not controlled. Azzi found herself almost craving to see her like this more.

When the elevator doors opened, music filled the metal box. “How Far I’ll Go” was blaring through the surround sound system. Even louder than the music were deep belly laughs.

Azzi’s heart clenched, unable to remember the last time she laughed like that, the last time she could laugh like that. She was frozen in place, unable to move, or breathe, or think.

“You coming?” The sight of Paige’s small smirk snapped Azzi out of her mind.

Azzi was only able to catch glimpses as she followed Paige through the penthouse. There was a dining room that could house a dozen people and a perfectly styled living room, and both were surely untouched.

Though many surfaces were covered in flour, Paige had the kitchen of Azzi’s dreams. The dark sage cabinets brought the kitchen to life without being overpowering. They were beautifully balanced with the large oak island and marble countertops. There were six rust orange bar chairs. The brushed brass added warmth throughout the space. The large gray fridge was completely covered with Soleil’s creations. Handwriting sheets, princess coloring pages, learning activities alike. There were polaroid photos mixed in Soleil’s works. Azzi was able to see some more of the important people and stupidly wondered if she would ever grace the Bueckers Family Fridge. There was a dining nook off the end of the kitchen with floor to ceiling windows casting light over the large round table. It was big enough for six people, and Azzi could almost picture the room being filled with loud laughs, silly stories, and fantastic food like this morning.

Soleil stood with flour on her chest and a grin on her face. Next to her was a tall woman with curly, dark hair. Azzi wondered which aunt this was, KK or Ice.

Then came the squeal. “Mommy!”

Soleil came tearing across the hardwood floors in light blue pajamas, dark curls bouncing. “MS. FUDD!” She gasped, even louder than before.

Azzi had no time to brace herself as the ball of boundless energy buried her face in her legs.

“Good morning, Soleil.” She smiled calmly, a stark contrast to the girl’s energy. She brushed the curls out of her face, heart warming at the affection.

Paige cut their moment short, easily lifting Soleil to her shoulders. “Azzi’s joining us for breakfast today. And after that, Auntie Jana is going to get her a pretty dress for tonight’s dinner.”

Soleil gasped dramatically, turning to her teacher with wide eyes. “You’we coming with us? You can see all my pwetty dwesses!”

“Maybe after breakfast, Lai,” Paige said, gently putting her in a chair at the island. “Everybody’s kinda hungry.”

Azzi crouched by her chair, “I’ll be here all day, Pretty Girl. And guess what,” she lowered her voice like she was sharing her deepest secret, “I just moved into the building, so you’re gonna be seeing a lot more of me.”

Unbeknownst to Azzi, Paige stood in the doorway, watching the two brunettes giggling with each other. Her chest tightened before she turned away to message the other girls.

Paige walked back to the kitchen, locking her phone. When she looked up, she was stuck again. Lei was cuddled into Azzi’s lap, waiting calmly while the woman braided her hair.

“I think I need to hire you full time, she never sits still when I try,” Paige smirks.

“I thought you already did,” Azzi said, her voice soft, eyes flicking up to meet Paige’s just as Soleil interrupted with a dramatic, “But you tug, Mommy.”

Their eyes held for a second longer than necessary. Paige smiled, slow and quiet.

Paige stared at the duo until the elevator chimed loudly.

“Hey girly pops!” KK’s voice rings out, “It smells like syrup and rich people in here!”

A few seconds later, four women step into the kitchen. Azzi remembers Nika and Jana from Maison Noire and the talk one who was in the kitchen earlier, but the loudest one is a new face.

“Is that Azziiiii?” Jana sings excitedly.

Azzi chuckles, letting Soleil slide off her lap to greet her aunts. “It’s nice to see you again, Jana.”

“Auntie KK!” Soleil screams, running into the loud woman’s arms.

“Azzi, that’s KK and that’s Ice, and you remember Nika.” Jana beckoned the curly headed woman to her with a subtle tilt of her head. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”

The Bueckers’s home was unexpectedly intimate. It didn’t feel like wealth — it felt like warmth. Like being held. That was the only way Azzi could describe it. She had expected lots of silvers, grays, and sharp edges. The penthouse had light oak floors and warm cream walls. There was an underlying smell of vanilla and lavender in every room Azzi had been in. A space built for laughter and softness. She was happy to know that the almost sterile living and dining room were formal and ignored; the rooms the family actually used were deeper into the penthouse.

The living room was flooded with light from the massive windows. It had big, white, boucle couches that looked like they would be perfect to melt into. There were camel-colored sitting chairs that were butter soft. The accents reminded Azzi of a sunset, soft pinks, purples, oranges, and blues. Chunky knit blankets were piled in a basket, with another on the couch. There was a massive television mounted to an eye-catching slat wall. A sidebar was opened to display bins of playdoh, LEGOs, art supplies, and books. Soleil’s family portrait was framed, sitting proudly on the coffee table. As Azzi looked around, she saw more framed pieces that Soleil had made. A series of off-centered rainbows, unicorns, and butterflies were organized in a beautiful collage over the fireplace. The cabinet behind the couch had drawings of their family, each in a different color. The entire room seemed to be a shrine to praise Soleil.

Jana told funny stories for every room the visited. She was sweet and humble. “I appreciate everything you’re doing to help Paige. She does so much for everyone else, and she never asks for any help. She saved all of us, but no one has ever been able to save her.” She paused, “Even if this arrangement ends, you’re help one of us. You’ll always have a family with us.”

Tears welled in Azzi’s eyes. “You guys don’t even know me.” She sniffled.

“You went to bat for Soleil – that’s more than enough to make you family. Everything else you’re doing is just gravy.” Before Azzi could respond, her stomach let out the loudest growl. “Shit girl, I’m sorry. Let’s get you some food.”

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Soleil stayed cuddled up with Azzi the second she sat down at the table. The girl alternates between eating her French toast sticks and picking at the strawberry and kiwi slices on Azzi’s plate.

The girls made sure she was comfortable. KK and Ice made sure to bring her in on jokes, telling the background stories of all the inside jokes they went through at the table.

Azzi had learned that the women all went through an intense LEGO phase in college. They ate so much Tru Fru that someone had to go to the hospital. After that obsession waned a bit, the Crumbl one started, so intense that there were big arguments about it.

She enjoyed getting a feel for everyone’s personality. Nika spent most of the meal talking with Paige lowly, but she would interject here and there. She was blunt, which Azzi believed added to her charm. KK was loud, energetic, and magnetic. She lightened the mood whenever there was too long of a pause during conversation. She seemed to be the closet with Ice, but physically leaning on Paige several times during breakfast. Ice was warm, always making sure Azzi felt included in the conversation. She spoke with Soleil animatedly and gave a general air of openness. Jana was kind and welcoming. She asked questions and gave Azzi her attention when she answered. She was so smiley, like a mellower version of Soleil. She was realizing that Paige Bueckers is not cold at all. Sure, she had a façade, but that’s all it was. Paige had smiled more today than Azzi had ever seen her smile. It wasn’t for her, but she couldn't shake the warmth she felt each time their eyes met, like being caught in the sun a little too long.

When Soleil lifted a piece of sausage to Azzi’s face without looking, she could almost feel herself latching onto the little girl, to this makeshift family.

Azzi was at war with herself. On one hand, she knew that getting attached to them would lead to months of heartache. But she remembered what Jana had told her earlier; she was already family to them.

Azzi hoped, just for a second, that Jana was right, and that this would be a family she could keep.