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[yueyimold]

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[kurokawaia]

❛ NSFW Alphabet ❜

Uchiha Sasuke X fem!Reader

WC; 2k + | !MDNI! | TW/CW; Breeding, degradation, praise, begging + more

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 ; @enouche - Hi , you made a really good headcanons for Sasuke so I was wondering if you please can make a sfw or nsfw ( whatever you want) alphabet for him . <333

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

A = Aftercare

I personally think that Sasuke wouldn't even know what aftercare is until you tell him about it. His reaction would be like, "That's a thing?" Don't think that Sasuke would do much for aftercare, but I know that he would hold you close to him as you are family to him, girlfriend or wife. Sasuke probably wouldn't take the time to help clean you up, I think he would value the time after having sex more than giving aftercare if that makes sense? Having your body close to his, knowing that you will not leave him matters so much more, he wouldn't want to leave you alone after sex, even if he seems distant after sex, he's just thinking about you in his arms.

B = Body part (his favourite about himself and you)

Well, Sasukes favourite body part for you would have to be your neck and chest area. He just loves to suck on the soft skin as he slowly thrusts into you soaked pussy. He also just loves to mark up your chest and it's not even intentional !! he just seems to do it out of instinct, wanting to suck from your neck down to your chest, the way your back arches into him could be the reason...

C = Cum

I'm going to say that his cum isn't a very thick consistency but he does cum quick a bit, quite sticky as well. If he isn't coming in your pussy or mouth, then it would probably be your stomach and its bonus points if some lands onto your breasts. I don't think Sasuke would like to admit it but if you guys are in the bathroom after sex and you hope into the shower before he gets in he gets a little pouty seeing you wash his cum off your body and attempting to wash away the cum that keeps on seeping out your puffy folds, that took lots of energy to fill up :(

D = Dirty Secret

When you aren't on a mission with him or he knows that he won't be with you for a couple of months, he would bring some of your.... belongings with him, if yk what I mean of course. He just needs to have something of you with him and if it helps him feel good that even better, aka your panties or bra 😕

E = Experience

I'm going to say Sasuke was pretty inexperienced, so you probably would have been his first, or that he has lost his virginity and just isn't as experienced because he's only done it once or twice.

F = Favourite Postion

Either loves to fuck you in missionary or doggy, no in between. He wants to see your face contort in pleasure as he pounds your pretty pussy as deep as he can. Sasuke loves to watch your beautiful face mold into the most fucked out expressions. Sasuke uses missionary when he comes back from a mission and he just misses you so much, he thinks that this makes him feel so much more closer to you, your legs tight around his hips as his cock pulses in and out of your gummy walls, your hands either entangled within his hair, around his shoulders with your nails digging into his pale skin or placed above you, gripping the sheets.

But with doggy now... he is either going to tease you, going slow as he can, dragging his thick length in and out of your gummy walls, inciting needy whines from you. Or, Sasuke is going to be pounding into you, so fast and deep you can't even think. He gets off seeing you all helpless in front of him, the pretty arch of your back as your dainty hands grip at the sheets, your plushy breasts pressed hard against the mattress, the plump flesh peaking out from the sides at how hard your body is being pressed to the bed--

G = Goofy

He's serious in the moment, I can't see him relatively laughing or making jokes during his sex time with you. The most he would do is probably let out a humorous huff against your mouth or skin when he sees your struggling and writhing beneath him, trying to pull your self away from his advances, but he knows you love it.

H = Hair

He's out most of the time so he probably doesn't have the time to clean it much down there but he makes sure it's trimmed down so he doesn't make you feel uncomfortable, he cares about what you think about him-

I = Intimacy

When you and Sasuke are having more of an intimate moment for sex, he holds you hand with his by your side, his tongue slowly exploring your mouth, inciting small whimpers from you. That just gets the man off. But I doubt the moment would be too 'romantic' as you would be shaking so much from his thrusts 😭

J = Jack off

Jacks off when you aren't around him especially when he's on missions and you aren't with him, he just needs to feel something. Jerking himself of to the thought of you or even just palming himself through his pants with his head pressed against the surface of a tree as his eyes screw shut imagining that it's you making him feel good.

K = Kink/s

Let's be so for real guys, how can Sasuke not be into fulling you flush with his cum, every Uchiha does it, don't they? He loves thinking about breeding your tight cunt. Wanting to see your stomach full of his children, thinking about having to help you all the time because you can't do any small mundane tasks anymore. Its the Uchiha breeding kink calling him--

I think he'd be into light degradation and possession?? Just occasionally calling you his slut or just making you feel like nothing to him. "Just take my come, that's all my slut needs to do for me.' But after I feel like he would feel bad for calling you names so he'd make sure to be extra touchy the next day, considering he isn't big on showing affection :(

L = Location

Prefers to be in a classic setting of a bed because he is a man of traditional ways as that is the way he grew up. He wouldn't be against doing it out on a mission but as long as no one can see because he want's you all to himself. He feels safest knowing that it's only you two, he lets himself be vulnerable with you, all his touches belong to you and he'll make sure you'll never forget.

M = Motivation

If you say anything that makes him tick he will put you in your place and you do so willingly. Or, just simply because he sees your beauty and wants to indulge in you over, and over.

N = No

He definitely doesn't like to spit on you, he values your entire existence and doesn't want you to feel any less then how you want to feel, he is too scared you might leave him, oh the poor pretty boy. Sasuke might call you slut or a bitch during sex but he knows you're okay with that.

O = Oral

Sasuke prefers to be given head rather than give it himself. Now, that doesn't mean he doesn't absolutely love eating out your soaked cunt but he just rather your tight mouth try to fit his length without gagging. Sasuke is a busy and tired man most of the time, so having his pretty girl be at his disposal for him makes him go crazy. Loves coming down your throat and making you open your plump lips to make sure that you swallowed all his seed. Sasuke loves the way you make sure to trace every vein on his dick before taking him whole in your mouth and the muffled gags and gasps you make on his dick causing you to grip his thighs just makes him want to cum down your tight little throat more.

P = Pace

Depending on his mood, normally he has quite a deep and reasonably fast pace but when he's mad at you or mad at something that has pissed him of, Sasuke is rough with you, forcing you to take all his advances, thrusting roughly into your gummy walls.

Q = Quickie

He isn't the biggest fan of them, he'd do it once or twice but that is the most. Sasuke just needs the time to focus on breeding you 🥺

R = Risk

The most risk he would take is having sex in the forest on one of his missions, as I said, he is a traditional man and likes the traditional practices

S = Stamina

Sasuke can and will go all night long, his stamina is through the roof, especially if you egg him on saying he can cum inside your sticky walls, then how can he not go all night? Although, you would probably all tired after the second round, but that isn't stopping Sasuke from slowly teasing you and edging you on just so he can get more orgasms from you, tight walls squeezing the cum out of his length into your fertile womb.

T = Toys

No. He wants you to want him and him to want you.

U = Unfair

The only time he would be 'unfair' would be if he just remembers every time how cute and whiney you look after him stop thrusting into you, edging you, so he just does it for fun because he loves how needy you get, how much you need Sasuke to satisfy the ache in your lower abdomen.

V = Volume

Sasuke isn't a loud moaner but he deeply groans into your skin or mouth as he is either eating you out, getting head or thrusting into your folds. He occasionally lets out moans but it's only when he's coming :( He knows how much you love hearing him moan and that makes the poor man embarrassed. He mostly lets out really breathy sighs that almost sound like moans though 🫣 And hearing those noises come out his mouth just makes you fall in love with him even more (and makes you want him inside you even more-)

W = Wild?

At the beginning of the relationship, he would have tried to be tame so badly but he just couldn't hold himself further on causing him to be more, he always makes sure not to hurt you.

X = X-ray

Sasuke is a strong defined man, in the body of course. Defined abs and a big strong body. He is over six foot so what's in his pants doesn't disappoint. I'm going to say anything between 6-7 inches. He has a slight mushroom head with is a light shade of pinky/red and has light blue veins trailing on the underside of his length.

Y = Yearning

I don't think Sasuke would crave for sex all the time but he definitely won't disagree to having some special time with you if you asked. He'd tease you about it, "You needy?" and then proceed to give you the time of your life. Sasuke prefers to be in more classic setting when having sex, like a bedroom but he isn't opposed to having sex when the both of you are out on missions.

Z = Zzzz

You would fall asleep quickly after what Sasuke does to you but Sasuke would stay up just a couple minutes longer, maybe even an hour, just to see you peaceful face and body in his arms. Sasuke falls asleep to the thought about how lucky he is to have found someone knowing that you won't leave him.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

if you would like to be apart of my tag list for sasuke please dm me or comment it down!! if you would like to be apart of the entirety of naruto taglist, comment or dm that please :)

taglist - @enouche @lovelyandproblematic

[deathbyhertouch]

3M Part 4 (Final Part)

stripper!reader x boygenius

A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your support for this series. You make my heart leap. Please send me some requests if you'd like to see more of my work!

warnings: heavy smut (18+, mdni), kissing, face riding, spitroasting, choking, pussy eating( all receiving), squirting, fingering, hair pulling, pet names, degredation, praise, strap-on, doggystyle, slight body worship

word count: 2k

enjoy!

As soon as the front door closed, you couldn’t tell who’s hand was whose. You were in a heavy liplock with Lucy, her hands tangling themselves in your hair. There was a heavy passion behind the kiss, due to the fact that your true feelings were out in the open. You were ecstatic to have your feelings reciprocated, finally feeling like something was going good in your life. 

“Bedroom, shall we?” Lucy breathed against your lips, gently tugging at your hair. You hummed and nodded, allowing her to lead the way. She grasped your hand in hers, placing a kiss to it, before leading you to the bedroom. Julien and Phoebe were not far behind the two of you. When she made it to your bedroom, she turned on the bedside lamp, allowing the room to illuminate softly. 

She moved back in front of you, her hands finding their place on your hips. Your hands moved to cup her face. She beamed down at you, and you matched her smile. You craned your head up to reconnect your lips once more. She met you halfway, her mouth molding to fit against yours. You sighed against her mouth, running your hands down past her shoulders, stopping at the low neckline of her dress, pawing at her breasts. She moaned into your mouth, and you took that as a sign to continue. Your fingers dipped below the hemline, using your other hand to pull the straps of her dress down her arms, letting the fabric fall down to pool around her ankles.

You broke the kiss to admire her beauty. She looked ephemeral in the soft light, her features highlighted just for you, as she was on a pedestal. You could feel your pussy ache at the mere sight of her. 

You felt fingers at the zipper of your own dress, and a kiss pressed to your shoulder blade, pulling you back to reality. You turned, seeing Phoebe’s mesmerizing eyes looking back into your own. She winked at you, pulling down the zipper, letting your own dress fall to your feet. Her hands grasped at your bare ass, the thong you wore was not covering hardly anything. You stepped out of the pool of fabric, finding yourself in front of Lucy once again. You grasped at her thighs, looking up at her.

“Trust me, love?” You asked, giving her a small grin. She nodded, smiling back down at you. 

“Jump, then.” She followed your suggestion, wrapping her legs around your waist and you carried her to the bed. You laid her against your pillows, and they created a plush halo around her. 

“You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?” You breathed, have to yourself, half in devotion to the goddess in front of you. She smirked, winking at you.

“I have a hunch.” She giggled, beckoning your forward with her finger. You obliged, crawling your way across the king size towards her. You stopped at her stomach, showering her with light kisses. Julien and Phoebe took their places on either side of her. You looked up at them and hummed, smiling to yourself.

“Isn’t this a familiar sight? Reminds me of when we first met.” You reminisced. They were silent, but gave you a soft smile, urging you to continue. Your lips ducked down to make contact with Lucy’s skin once more, trailing down towards her pubic bone. Your eyes glanced up to see Phoebe sucking on the skin at Lucy’s neck, and Julien rubbing lazy circles across Lucy’s inner thigh. She had Lucy’s leg pulled across her lap to give you an easier access point. You kissed the tops of her thighs, pulling a wanton moan from her lips. 

“Please baby, touch me. I want to feel your tongue on me.” She whined, making you smirk up at her.

“All in good time, dearest.” You cooed up at her. She whimpered, her hips bucking subconsciously. Julien chuckled, holding her leg tighter.

“Don’t worry baby, she’ll take such good care of you. Won’t you, doll?” Julien comforted the raven-haired woman, before acknowledging you.

 You hummed in response, before pressing a kiss just above her clit. Phoebe pulled back from Lucy’s neck, before turning her attention to you. Her hand reaching down to tug at Lucy’s taught nipple. She moaned loudly, wanting some relief. You figured she was ready, her slick now dripping down onto the duvet. You leaned in and sucked her clit into your mouth. She cried out, finally receiving what she was so desperate for. You flicked your tongue against it and brought your fingers to her entrance. You sucked her clit harshly, before slipping two digits inside her. Her pussy clenching around you, practically gushing at this point. You pumped them in and out of her, keeping a relentless pace against her aching bud. The noises she was exuding was only fueling your motivation, determined to get her to her release.

“Shit, honey, I'm so close, please, don’t stop.” She pleaded, her orgasm ready to spill over. You lapped your tongue at her clit, slipping a third finger inside her. She gasped, before throwing her head back in ecstasy. Her thighs were shaking, and a sheer layer of sweat crept across her forehead. You sped up your actions, and she moaned loudly, finally reaching her release. Her arousal squirted out of her and adorned your lower face.

“Fuck Luce, that was amazing. Doesn’t she taste so good, Y/N?” Phoebe asked you. You smirked at the blonde, before diving back into Lucy’s wet folds. She moaned exhaustedly, and you kitten licked her release up, not wasting a single drop. You popped off of her pussy, before sitting on your knees.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” You cooed, praising your sweet girl, who was currently fucked out against the pillows. She nodded haphazardly, still in bliss from her quaking orgasm. You looked over at Julien, leaning towards her to pull her into a kiss. She obliged, crashing her lips against yours, moaning into your mouth. She could clearly taste Lucy on your tongue, only driving her hornier. The hand you weren’t supporting your weight on quickly made its way to her throbbing clit, rubbing feather-light circles against the swollen nub. She sighed into the kiss, and you could feel the tension in her soldiers ease up. She scooted closer to you on her knees, spreading them so your fingers could get a better angle. Her arms wrapped themselves around you, her hands grabbing at your ass. She kneaded the soft flesh, making you shiver under her touch. You sped up your fingers, feeling her wetness coat her folds and your fingers. You teased her a bit, running a finger down to her entrance and circling it. She whined against your lips, tugging your body impossibly closer to hers. You slipped a finger into her, hearing her audibly gasp at the sensation. You giggled into her mouth, before removing your finger, and pulling back. 

“C’mon baby, I want you to lay back, let me make you feel so good.” You ordered her, watching the brunette’s cheeks flush red, before nodding and scooting back. You smiled down at her, taking stock of Lucy watching the two of you and Phoebe nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Pheebs?” You asked Lucy, wondering where the third of your lovers ran to. Before you could answer, however, Your face was pushed into Julien’s dripping cunt, and felt the tip of something hard against your own pussy. You moaned, feeling the hard silicone probe at your entrance. 

Where did she get a strap from? You pondered, before swiping your tongue through Julien’s folds. You moaned at the taste, the vibrations sending shock waves through her body. Her hips moved against your face, grinding down on you. Phoebe pushed in you all the way, making you whine against Julien. You slipped a finger back into her cunt, curling it against her g-spot, She whined, throwing her head back into the pillows. Lucy turned on her side, taking in the sight of her lovers. Phoebe’s hips snapped up against yours, drilling you at a fast pace. You were releasing pornographic moans, the sounds being swallowed as your mouth was fastened against Julien’s pussy. 

“Yeah? You like being fucked like a whore?” Phoebe growled, wrapping your hair into her fist. She yanked you back so your body was against hers. She wrapped her other hand around your throat, squeezing tightly. You didn’t let out a sound, too cock drunk on her to speak.

“Answer me, angel.” She whispered into your ear, nipping at the soft flesh. You nodded lazily, which only provoked her more. She yanked at your hair which caused you to yelp.

“Fuck, yes I like it. Please fuck me like the whore I am.” You whined out, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. She smiled, kissed the side of your neck, and released her grip on you, allowing you to resume the position of lapping Julien’s sweet cunt. She whimpered, soothing your sore scalp by gently rubbing her fingers through your hair.

“Careful, PB, don’t break our girlfriend.” Julien remarked. Phoebe smiled, harshly bucking her hips into your backside.

“Not breaking, just bending a bit.” She teased you, replying to the brunette in your favor. Lucy chuckled a bit, popping off of Julien’s tit to smirk at the blonde. You moaned into her folds, causing Julien’s hips to buck up against your face.

“Fuck angel, I’m so close. Let me cum on your pretty face.” Julien pleaded. You hummed, slipping your fingers back into her, starting a fast pace. She screamed with pleasure, causing Phoebe to speed up her thrusts into you. Julien cried out, throwing her head back against the pillow as she came all over your face. Her arousal dripping down your chin as you rode her through her orgasm. Once she calmed down enough, gently tapping the side of your face, you pulled off. Your own release was not far behind as Phoebe kept up her pace, eager to get you to cream on her cock. She wrapped an arm around your stomach pulling you to her body once more, snaking the other to find your clit.

“Give it to me, baby. Cum all over my hard cock.” She begged, which was all you needed as you moaned out, gushing around her strap. She growled into your ear.

“Good girl. You did so well tonight, didn’t you?” She cooed into your ear, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. You nodded, feeling the drowsiness take over. She released her grip on you, and you crawled up into Julien’s open arms.

“C’mere Pheebs, let me make you cum.” Lucy bargained, tugging at the blonde’s thighs. Phoebe nodded, unstrapping the harness, tossing it to the other side of the room. She crawled up to Lucy’s face, swinging her legs to either side before gracefully sitting on her tongue. She let out a low moan, hips rocking back and forth on the raven-haired woman’s jaw.

 Lucy’s hands gripped at her ass, essentially guiding her back and forth. Phoebe’s noises became more pornographic as her orgasm was coming quickly. Lucy hummed into her, trying to edge her along with the vibrations. Phoebe squealed, feeling her pleasure wash over her. Lucy’s noises echoed the blonde’s, coaxing her arousal out of her. 

You smiled at the sight, watching your girlfriends in admiration as Julien’s soft snores lulled you further into falling asleep. You watched Phoebe shuffle off of Lucy’s face, before snuggling into your side to wrap an arm around your waist. You smiled, turning your head to press a goodnight kiss to her, before reaching over and giving one to Lucy. You turned back and pecked Julien, who faintly returned it, still deep in her sleep. You shimmied back down, effectively burying your face in her breast. You smiled widely, before opening your lips to speak.

“I love you guys.”

“Love you too, doll.”

Love, A.

[venus-haze]

Brother's Keeper (Bo Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: You’re Vincent’s. You have been since you ended up in Ambrose. Bo decides it’s time to make an exception.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Please read the warnings before deciding whether you want to read. Before anyone asks, I’m already planning a Vincent-centric follow-up. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Extremely dubious consent since reader is Vincent’s captive, elements of Stockholm syndrome, sadism (mentioned in reference to Vincent but also Bo to the reader), dacryphilia, slapping, blood, mommy kink, overstimulation, I guess cheating? There’s a lot going on in this. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Even though your eyes were closed, you knew the man coming down the stairs wasn’t Vincent. He’d wordlessly disappeared up them about an hour earlier, no indication of where he was going or when he’d return. Unusual that he’d be gone for so long and not leave you a note with a vague idea of what was going on. Maybe it was urgent.

You hadn’t seen Bo in a while, though you’d certainly heard him plenty of times. While Vincent had a knack for slinking around like a cat, Bo reminded you of a wolf, howling loud with his razor sharp teeth on display. All the better to eat you with. You had the feeling that if he’d gotten to you first, he would have taken up hunting you for sport.

You sat up, blinking your eyes open. They didn’t need  to adjust to the dim lighting anymore. The last time Vincent had brought you upstairs for the shower you begged for (and now felt long overdue for another), you were dismayed to find the bright lights stung your eyes. You asked him to just turn off the lights altogether. The longer you spent there in his studio—lair, as you’d come to personally refer to it—with him, the more like him you were becoming, slowly but surely made in his image. 

Bo’s eyes were dark in the basement where Vincent kept you and all of his other art supplies. For the longest time, you thought his eyes, and, in turn, Vincent’s, were brown. Instead, they were a raging, stormy blue that threatened to drown you in their depths if you stared too long. 

“You just sleep all day, huh? Leave us to do all the work?” There was a joking lilt to his accusatory tone.

Though you knew better than to protest, you desperately wanted to. Being Vincent’s muse was unforgiving work. You were available to him at all times, posed and molded and used whenever he felt so inclined. Your body had been the victim of several bouts of artist’s block, bearing the scars of his frustration and inspiration. Most of them were due to candle wax burns.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

Bo’s eyes raked over your body, nearly nude save for the thin t-shirt and athletic shorts that barely reached your mid-thigh. Humiliation coursed through you when Vincent first presented you with the clothing, your size, taken from someone who was too dead to miss them, probably. The first clean clothes you had since he first imprisoned you. You soon found it to be the best choice with how hot it could get in his lair when he was working. Practical until that moment, when it left you exposed to Bo’s hunger for a handful of flesh.

“You look good. Vincent always took better care of his toys than I did,” Bo said with a grin, his tone eerily playful. “Mama said I was too rough.”

The chain around your ankle rattled as Bo pushed you back onto the bed. Less restraints than when you’d first been brought there, but you couldn’t parse a rhyme or reason as to what compelled Vincent to grant you these minute freedoms. 

“Please don’t,” you whispered. “He’ll know.” He knows everything. 

Whether you were easy to read or he was just observant, you had slowly convinced yourself Vincent was omniscient. Your captor was an otherworldly entity, aloof and removed from the messy emotions that you and the other poor, unfortunate souls who found yourselves in his lair were burdened with. He moved coolly, without care, without remorse. 

If Vincent were merely a man, what little bit of sanity you were clinging to would unravel. A man was vulnerable, conquerable, real. Like Bo. Brash and impulsive to contrast his twin. He unsettled you more than your silent captor. After god knows how long of being met with Vincent’s cold, emotionless wax face, the way Bo’s shifted with each mood, each thought, left you feeling overwhelmed. 

“Vince and me shared a lot growin’ up. He won’t mind,” he said, the alcohol on his breath burning your nostrils. 

His lips parted with the intention to devour, like a snake unhinging its jaw to swallow you whole. You wondered how long he’d been drinking, how long Vincent would be gone for, how long Bo had wanted to do this. Bo wouldn’t kill you, but you knew he didn’t care if you were in one piece. He growled against your mouth, his lips bullying yours into kissing him back.

Satisfied with your reluctant return of affection, his attention turned elsewhere. Coarse hands slid up your shirt, roughly massaging your breasts. He pinched your nipples, eliciting a pained moan from you that only reached his mouth. Upon feeling his lips upturn, a siren went off in your mind. So used to blindly vying for the approval of your unknowable captor, you shouldn’t know he’s enjoying this.

He broke the kiss to pull your shirt over your head. Wasting no time, he latched his lips to one of your nipples while his hand attended to the other one. His teeth tugged at your nipple almost experimentally before biting down a bit harder. 

Tears blurred your vision. Where the hell was Vincent? You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will the sound of him walking purposefully across the floorboards above. Instead, you were met with silence and the sound of your own whimpering.

You released a breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding when Bo finally released your nipple from his mouth. He landed harsh slaps to each of your breasts, especially painful on the sensitive one he’d been—nursing on? Torturing was more like it.

A mean snarl had made its home on his face, reveling in your suffering at his hands. Rounding his arm back, his palm smacked against your cheek. And then it did again. And again. And again.

You could feel your lip split, your wailing echoing through the basement. He’ll know. Maybe that was what Bo wanted, because the slapping soon stopped.

“That’s it. Gimme those tears, mama,” he cooed, brushing his thumb against the wound he inflicted. He collected the blood that beaded at your lips and brought his finger to his mouth, sucking it clean.

Your brain felt fuzzy. Even worse, you could feel his words going straight to your pussy as it clenched around nothing but air.

“You cry this pretty for Vincent? Or just me?”

“J-Just you.”

He grinned. “Don’t I feel special.”

He slapped you one more time for good measure, harder than he had before. Your arms flew up to shield your face from further damage. His hands moved down your body instead, pulling your shorts down to your ankles. 

Suddenly, you didn’t feel his hands on your at all, and you glanced down to see what’d given him pause. His gaze was fixed on your upper thigh where Vincent had neatly and painfully carved his initials into your flesh some time prior, long enough for the mark to scar over. Bo glanced at you, expression unreadable for a split second wherein you felt some relief. 

His face soon betrayed his anger, and you felt your stomach drop upon hearing him unbuckle his belt. He then unzipped his jeans, pulling them and his underwear down to free his hard cock. There was no warning, no preparation as he pushed his length inside you. While the encounter hadn’t been about your pleasure in the first place, you realized with the pain between your legs that it’d turned into a punishment, and there was little you could do but lay back and take it.

“Lookit you, ‘bout to leave a wet spot in the fuckin’ mattress,” he mocked. “You’re a natural cockslut, ain’t you, mama?”

You earned another smack across the face for your silence.

“You answer me when I talk to you.”

“I’m a cockslut,” you forced out.

He groaned as tears rolled down your swollen cheeks. Still, his stamina proved to be more than you could handle, because your calves started to ache from flexing while being painfully close to orgasm. You choked out a sob, his pace relentless as he pounded into you. The metal bedframe clanged against the wall, a loud and ugly noise that made your skin crawl. It was as if he knew exactly what to do to make you feel like you were losing your mind.

“Gonna make you cum, mama. Leave you dreamin’ ‘bout my dick.” His words slurred together, probably from exerting so much energy in his intoxicated state.

You responded with a moan that sounded foreign coming from you. It was good enough for him, because he didn’t slap you this time, instead bringing his hand to your clit. His calloused fingers rubbed the sensitive bundle of nerves, and you grabbed his forearms for leverage.

“Know you’re close, way your pussy’s squeezin’ my dick. Wanna take it all, huh?”

“Wanna cum,” you moaned.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright then, cum,” he said, slapping your clit so hard you almost swore you saw stars. 

Your hips bucked, and your orgasm blazed white-hot through your body, fire engulfing your muscles as they constricted, black spots hazing your vision. You thought you were going to pass out. Vincent had brought you to that point before, thought it was usually from pain rather than the pleasure that overwhelmed you. 

Bo chased his own release, thrusts becoming sloppy as he got closer. “Fuckin’ whore, cum all over my cock like this.”

He finally bottomed out inside you. Your pussy clenched around his throbbing cock as he came, filling you with his cum. Cursing under his breath, he made eye contact with you, a lazy smirk spreading across his face.

He pulled out of you, licking his lips upon seeing his cum leak from your pussy onto the mattress beneath you. Physical evidence that he’d laid claim to you. The grown-up version of him messing with his brother’s toy. He was right about that much, at the end of the day, that’s what you were, biding your time until Vincent grew bored of you and moved onto something shiny and new.

Staring at the ceiling, you let out a shaky breath when you heard the sound of his pants zipper and then his belt buckle. There was no point in you pulling your flimsy articles of clothing back on. You jolted when he grabbed your unchained ankle.

“Thanks for the taste, darlin’,” he said with a wink, as if it were something you’d flirtingly suggested, a playful secret between the two of you.

After a few moments of silence, he disappeared upstairs unceremoniously. You listened to the sound of his heavy footfall until it became inaudible. The faint sound of a truck engine revving made you relax a bit. He was gone.

You laid motionless in the bed until Vincent finally returned, and it took everything in you not to scream at him. Where the fuck were you? He began walking toward you, freezing in place before rushing to your side. He knew. Your lip trembled at his concern. It wasn’t for your well-being as a person, you knew that much, but because you were his. His muse. His living, ongoing art piece. 

He touched your shoulder tentatively, and you avoided making eye contact with his mask. Were you angry? Or ashamed? 

His fingers moved to brush his initials in your skin. 

“He didn’t care,” you whispered.

You hissed when his fingers dug into your thigh. He moved his other hand, signing, “It won’t happen again.”

You scoffed. No acknowledgement he fucked up. No apology. You should’ve known better to expect that much from Vincent. The half-assed promise was the closest you’d get. Part of you hated yourself for finding some comfort in the cold familiarity of his emotional distance.

Vincent looked at you, his blue eye staring down yours, a whirlpool threatening to drag you into its depth until you closed your eyes. You heard a light rustling, but nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of his scarred lips pressing gently against your forehead. The tenderness was a momentary reprieve, as you felt him lift his hand from your thigh. You heard him walk a few feet away, the metal stool he favored scraping against the concrete. Feigning sleep, you waited for him to join you in bed.

[shibaraki]

COMING UNDONE ┊ MIYA ATSUMU

tags: NSFT, GN reader, established relationship, rimming (character receiving), handjob, soft dom reader vibes, a little bit of worship and praise, eating ass is an act of LOVE

wc: 2k

Returning home after practice doesn’t fill Atsumu with any sense of peace, not in the way it would if you had been there to greet him. You’d forewarned him earlier that you might be late from work, and yet he’d still anticipated hearing your voice as he toed off his shoes in the entryway.

Practice had been rough, more so than usual. Something had Omi in a twist before the match even started, and while it didn’t impact the success of his spikes, it did hurt the communication with his setter.

Atsumu had snapped in the end, an unclean cut, a snarl rumbling in his chest. It’d felt personal, like Kiyoomi lacked trust in him and worst of all, in his sets. So he’d been pulled out early, exhaled deeply as he stretched the tension from his muscles, and yet still left the gym strung tighter than before he’d entered.

Feeling petulant, he drops his rucksack haphazardly onto the floor and makes his way to the bathroom. There’s evidence of you all over the apartment, trinkets you picked out to make it appear more homely, things that made you think of him and he of you. It’s comforting for him to know that this is a space you both share, a place you both call your own, but the homeliness tastes a little bitter and forced in your absence.

Typically he would turn the shower on before undressing to avoid the cold spray, allowing it to warm up first, but after today he felt deserving of a little punishment. Completely undressed and under the shower head, he twists the tap and startles at the temperature even as he expects it.

It helps somewhat, the sudden shock blanking out his thoughts and the gentle warmth that followed after. Soothing. It wasn’t you, but it was something.

The pressure stutters for a few seconds as he finishes washing himself, the suds slipping down his back and pooling at his feet. The tap turns back with an awkward creak, and he quickly hand dries his body with a towel before he wraps it around his waist, pulling another from the shelf to wring out the droplets in his hair.

Not bothering to dress himself again, Atsumu pads heavily into the bedroom and collapses face first onto your side of the mattress. His arms are still slightly damp as he crosses them beneath your pillow, pressing his nose into the fabric and inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

He’s not sure how long he lies there, quietly unmoving. His ears prick at the distant sound of a key entering a lock, the familiar call of his name to announce your arrival. He’s so pleased you’re back that he almost forgets that he’s supposed to be sulking.

“Baby?”

Eventually your footfalls move in the direction of the bedroom, growing louder the closer you get. He feels it when you’re in the doorway, your gaze heady on his back, his silence continues stubbornly and set in his childish act. It was freeing in some ways to behave like this with you, knowing he could push and pull your patience in every direction and your love for him wouldn't waver.

The mattress dips from behind him as you climb up, your movements purposefully slow and stalking, anticipation swelling in his gut. Then from above, you pin him like a butterfly to the bed. Pin him like the strength he’d spent years building meant nothing.

Something about your touch is devastating, it surrenders him and leaves him malleable. And then you mold yourself to his back, skin against skin as he sinks into the bedsheets. He grins sluggishly, elated and feeling the stress seep from his body, as if your weight alone had undone every knot.

Heat simmers at the surface of his cheeks when he hears your fond laughter, like you knew what he was thinking. You’d told him time and time again that his emotions were always written plainly on his face, but nobody had ever understood him the way you do.

“Hard day?” you murmur into his shoulder, and when he shrugs your head rolls with the motion. You turn your chin to press a kiss to his back, then again to the nape of his neck with a pleased hum.

“You used my body wash, didn’t you?”

Still, he remains quiet.

“And what did I do to deserve the silent treatment?” you continue to descend the length of his body, leaving a gradual path of kisses to each vertebrae until you reach the dip in his spine, “is it because I was late?”

It’s stupid and he knows it, so he simply huffs— indignant. You know it too, which is why he can feel you grin against the left dimple in his lower back.

“Spoilt,” your voice is warm as you straddle his legs and fiddle with the flimsy knot at his hip still keeping his towel wrapped around his waist.

“Your fault,” the happy exhale slips unbidden through his lips as he’s rolling back against you, pride rearing its head for a moment. The towel comes undone and you pull it away from his body, one half of the fabric laid across the bed while the other remains trapped under his front.

Your hands are soft and warm, smoothing along the back of his thighs. He squirms a little, arms still crossed and tucked beneath the pillows, restless with the need to touch you but too lazy to move.

“So easy…” you murmur to yourself, voice thick and rasped with want. Pressing your thumbs into the thick of his glutes, you knead appreciatively at his ass, squeezing and pulling to your heart's content. It renders him lightheaded, hips shifting back to entice you further as he nestles down into the pillow beneath his head.

Easy, you’d called him. Some might find it demeaning, or insulting, but to him it meant something different. Everyone, even his mama, had labelled him difficult at one time or another. He was big headed and stubborn, selfish and hard to get along with.

Not to you.

You were quite possibly the only person in existence that could describe him as easy — easy to love, easy to talk to, easy to touch, easy to fuck.

Your hands slip over the curve of his ass, fingers purposefully grazing over his entrance, a fleeting touch. “Hurry up,” he groans in complaint, cock aching and trapped between his belly and the bed.

Ignorant to his whining, you hold him open and hum, a pleased little sound that shudders through his body. “You’re so good to me, aren’t you ‘Tsumu? Look at you,” you say.

Stop talking. Keep talking. He doesn’t know which he wants, willing himself to breathe through the heat simmering under his skin. The praise was enthralling, frightening, and embarrassing. He trusted that you knew what he needed, because you always gave it to him, and yet being this vulnerable with you never got easier. Not at the start, not when he could still think.

A slap comes down lightly over his ass, inhaling sharply as his body seizes in shock rather than pain, pulling him back from his thoughts. “Watch the merchandise, will ya?” he huffs, leaning up into the kiss that you duck to press at the sore skin.

“Then pay attention, hm?” you tell him with gentle authority, “focus on me. Let me make you feel good”.

He mumbles hazily in agreement. Grabbing either side of his hips, you begin to lift and he half bends his knees for you, chest arched further into the bed to present himself. Glancing briefly over his shoulder toward you, he feels himself twitch at the sight of your cheeks hollowing, lips parting for a line of spit to spill between your bodies.

Teasingly, you circle your thumb through the drool, smearing it over him. Then you’re right there; licking him root to stem, from his perineum to his entrance, tongue softened and languid as it moves. He exhales with his entire body, sinking back against your mouth in relief with a hum of pleasure as you continue with long, broad strokes, gradually coaxing his muscles into relaxing.

You breathe an affectionate laugh against his skin at how quickly he surrenders, the vibrations pulling at the coil in his stomach. With one hand curled into his ass to hold him open, you begin to trace the tip of your tongue in circles around his rim, the other reaching under the apex of his thighs to cup his neglected cock.

His groan is muffled into the sheets, knees spreading a little further and weak as you squeeze around his length, pulling back to blow a soft puff of air against him. He loves when you do this, taste him like it’s an act of worship, open and willing to anything that he wants.

“Fuck,” he rasps, the curse stretched out into a stuttered moan that catches in his throat when you tense your tongue, dipping it only slightly inside of him before returning to the circular motion.

There’s not much he can feel other than you, and maybe the cool press of the bed frame to his knuckles beneath the pillow. The room is hotter than before, like the humidity from his shower had trailed through behind him, your touch drawing his attention back any time his mind wandered.

You’d done this so many times before, you knew every note his body could make, every string you needed to pull. His jaw slacks, lips parted to catch his breath and saliva pooling in his cheeks, brows drawn together in bliss as his hips rock awkwardly into your fist and back against your tongue.

It’s as if his body is being pulled in two directions, both winding tight and loosening, chasing and running. “I’m—” he struggles, swallowing the swell in his throat, “s’close. Please—”

You groan against him like he’s caressed you, like his pleasure is your own, nipping the sensitive skin there and soothing it with a kiss. “I know, baby. I’ve got you,” as you stroke his cock your fist tightens around the head “let me make it all better”.

A match is struck, the embers in his belly spreading. His pulse is loud in his ears and it seems to palpitate throughout his whole body, moans pitching higher and higher until the air is stuck in his throat. His entire body tenses as he reaches the crest, thighs trembling as he cums into your hand and onto the towel laid across the sheets.

Distantly he registers your muffled praises, riding him through each wave as it passes until he’s writhing away from the sensitivity, hand releasing but your mouth still littering kisses along the curve of his ass.

He slumps forward, boneless, and helpless to the satiated buzz flooding into his limbs. Your lips start to follow the dip in his spine, continuing up until you are nosing at the nape of his neck.

“Did so well, ‘Tsumu. Thank you,” he hears you murmur into his hair, “I needed that”.

Warmth blossoms in his chest. He felt elated. Loved. You tap his hip, wordlessly asking him to roll onto his back, and he obliges so you can pull the towel from beneath him to wipe your hands. As you do so, he reaches out to cradle your face, tilting up his chin.

“Not yet,” you say, eyes soft and apologetic, “I have to brush my teeth first”.

“No ya don’t,” he replies, a petulant tone to his voice. You lean into the palm of his hand, pressing a close lipped kiss to his heart line, before moving to get off the bed.

“I promise I’ll be quick!”

If he weren’t so exhausted out he might’ve insisted more. You were good at that, fucking the complaints out of him, meticulously undoing the tangles in his thoughts.

God, he loved you.

Your demeanour is more lighthearted when you return, expression open and brimming with endearment as you quickly crowd him back into the pillows to give him the kiss he dearly wanted, laughing breathlessly into each other’s mouths.

Eventually you settle, laid on his chest and watching him warmly, fingers carding through his hair. “Want to talk about what happened today?” you ask.

He exhales, eyes falling shut, smiling contently.

“Can't remember”.

[sweetdreamsbuck]

You have officially turned me into a Lumby loving fiend. You know the 3 photos of Seb that you reblogged and said they were your favorites, tell me why my first thought was imagining you + Bucky at home, you’re sitting at the kitchen counter doing some random activity like reading a book. and you turn and notice Bucky standing on the other side staring at you like he’s looking in the last photo. and you’re like ‘do you need something?’ and he shakes his head and smiles and says some cheesy shit like ‘only need you bun’ and now i’m going to go sob because that won’t happen to me and i hate it.

gaze

beefy lumberjack!bucky x f!reader (beefy lumby and bunny au)

warnings: SOFT!! yes this is not a fic bc it is a garbage mess of thoughts and yes the wc is 2k+. i'm so glad you guys love my lumby baby as much as i do. he came to me in a dream and now i can't stop writing about him. but don't worry sweet nonnie... I am just as alone and far away from having my own lumby as I can get :(

𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢

lumby has zero flaws– there is not one ounce of that man that wasn't painted from the finest of divine strokes. but your sweet boy– has a staring issue. a major problem, really. because the moment his eyes land on you, all sight of tasks he was meant to be doing spoil vibrant with vision of only you.

but there are exceptions to this issue of his; where his inability to see or think of anything but you and the beauty housed in each blink of your eye and flutter of that sweet giggle proved to be his saving grace– like today.

bucky had just gotten home from running to the store after an egregiously tiring shift; a few men from the lumberyard ran the office dry of all the coffee pot filters, leaving plenty of coffee grounds but no filter to sift them through. to add to the frustration of having no caffeine, the first two hard swings of his favorite ax shattered the blade. 

but even that wasn’t the worst of it– what really sealed his fate this morning was the alarm that failed to sound off. bucky never sleeps late, let alone needs an alarm, but today was an exception. running late this morning, by proxy, meant you were also behind. 

bucky wasn't afforded his sacred morning ritual of being revived from the sweet tickle of your yawning lips– from the stretching of limbs and teasing fingers scratching along his back and scalp as he nuzzled deeper against the span of your warm chest, basking contently in the song of your heartbeat. 

that also meant his routine mug of coffee from you– the one with a splash of cinnamon and the vision of your sleepy eyes, plump and sleep-wrinkled skin, slightly chapped lips with the warmth of a smile that greeted him in gentle yawns and soft whispers of "morning baby, i love you" as a kiss was pressed to his chin– was but a dream of the past. 

a morning where he didn’t get to stare at his bunny was not worthy of being deemed a morning at all.

so to say bucky had a rough day was an understatement.

the loud thud of his worn old truck's engine was still knocking as bucky rushed inside of the cabin. his mind ran rampant with thoughts of finally having a meal, a cup of coffee, and a warm shower; small promises of some form of relief from his day. shedding his clothes and hopping in the shower, he let his mind go soft; thinking only of watching you walk through the front door after your shift.

the way your strained eyes would awaken, gleaming with delight the second you saw him; the way your hands reached for him before your feet could carry you to him; the soft whine that left your throat as you molded your lips with his. 

he sighed, a gentle wave of peace finally washing over him in steady droplets and thoughts of you. 

in his own chaos, he completely forgot you had off today. how was he to remember you'd be home, waiting for him? he whizzed through the front door of the cabin so fast, you had no second to offer even a faint breath of your presence.

swaddled in a heavy duvet, you sat perched at the kitchen island, a book in one hand and a plum in the other. after not getting to greet bucky this morning, you were looking forward to being the first thing he saw when he got home.

but it didn't seem to matter all that much when he reeked of such frustration, his shoulders visibly stiff and the crease in between his brows cartoonishly bold. even in the brief second you saw him, it was apparent. your attention returned to your book upon hearing the shower head jump to life, knowing bucky needed a moment to collect himself and clean all trace of his sour day from him. besides, you were just getting to the good part of your novel.

you smile to yourself thinking of how bucky had once told you how lucky he was to get to watch you when you read. you’d get so invested, a face of unwavering concentration and adorable reactions dancing across your features without even realizing. he loved that about you, how you always seemed to tune out the outside world, only focusing on the characters and situations held in the palm of your hands. 

of course you didn’t hear the sound of bucky shutting off the shower and drying himself, or the ever so silent thud of his footsteps scurrying in the hall.

his voice mumbled out your name as he opened the bathroom door, realizing all the lights to his house have been on. running to your shared bedroom in hopes to find you wrapped in the mess of blankets just as he left you this morning, much to his disdain, he was met with silence and a neatly made bed– his least favorite sight when all he wanted to do was bury you with tender kisses into the large mattress. 

rounding the corner to the kitchen, his breath caught high in his throat. all the tension of his previously knotted face lifted–  that dark crease between his brows now a soft divot begging for your sweet kisses; his clenched jaw now loose in a rounded sigh falling from his lips. 

the cozy cocoon you had burrowed yourself in was the damn cutest sight he’d ever seen, but the disheveled work of art tauntingly tantalizing him inside of it wrapped itself wholly around his heart– around all of his senses, all of his nerves and up to the base of his tongue. such ease and giddy warmth rendering him speechless– captive to your presence, to your priceless radiance. his bunny. 

he’d never get tired of this. he could never grow tired of this– of staring at you in moments you never intended for anyone to see you in. in those moments where you sat there biting at a piece of fruit as soft tendrils of air filled your lungs– where nothing could ever appear more divine than watching you live in your quiet little world you decided to let him be a part of. 

the sight of you suddenly fixed all his problems, all of his frustrations. the grumble of his tummy and headache from lack of caffeine are but distant feelings– the tangible vision of you causes his breathing to stutter and his heart to thump like he was a damn teenager all over again.

he leans against the doorframe with a bevel in his leg, grounding himself so not to fall as his arm raises to catch his face against his hand. 

you let out a faint gasp as a sentence startles you, your eyes glistening with shock as you lean closer towards the words on your page. your eyes slowly relax when the main character gets back on his feet, a hum of relief washing over your features as a soft smile paints your lips. taking after the expertise of the sight in front of him, he leaned into it.

he let himself breathe for the first time that day. 

and you felt it. “mmm, bucky. you’re staring baby," you call without looking up from your book.

a soft huff of air leaves his nostrils and he lowers his head, flustered, even though you don't see it. he hums lowly.

"can practically feel my skin turning blue,” your smirk chides. he shuffles his weight on his feet as he leans himself firmer against the wall, arms tightening and twitching around the middle of his torso– not out of embarrassment. out of the flustered urge to control himself– his true desire, to lunge for you while wrapping you fervently in his embrace, feeling your warmth and melting at the fire of your touch– taking you out of the only bit of beauty he knew of today. 

he knew it was selfish to indulge in his desires, but it was just as selfish not to.

your bucky was greedy. he'd watch you until there was nothing left for him to do but pull you close and cling to every fiber of your being in hopes you'd let him stare, just a little longer.

his temple rested promptly against the door frame, his fingers tapping anxiously at his sides as a means to distract himself from the loud roar of his heart thumping throughout every vein and pulse of his body. you shuffle a bit on your stool when he stays voiceless, setting your book against the counter and sitting up straight. a hint of amusement shimmers along your features, a brow raised in expectancy of a smart retort from your man.

but all thoughts of playful teasing leave your mind when you look up and see his stare– the one that turns you to goo from the inside out, the one that sends such sparks of eagerly anxious heat coursing through your veins– that adoring and pointed stare knocking all the nerves and atoms that make up your body giddy with the excitement of being seen. “do you need something?” your voice barely squeaks out, the heat of his gaze too powerful for your banter. 

he softly nods his head, eyes swimming with vehement joy and relief for the first time all day. "just need you bun,” his low voice murmurs, so soft you almost wouldn’t have heard it unless accompanied by the sweet blush spreading across his cheeks. “but ya know...a kiss would be nice,” he pouts, “haven’t gotten a kiss all day. think I might die without one, bun. fix it? please bunny, need you to fix it.”

you break out into a fit of giggles as he drags his feet towards you with his adorable pout and those wide pleading eyes, his hands pushed out in front of him making grabby motions at you. raising your eyebrows at his display, you shut your eyes and sink yourself further into the large blanket surrounding you. “i don’t know lumby... i’m pretty comfy right now. wouldn’t want to–AH” you yelp, your voice getting cut off from the force of bucky throwing you over his shoulder.

he runs towards the couch as you squeal, the room starting to spin as he twirls you round and round before plopping himself down with you cradled in his arms. in his theatrics, the blanket managed to twirl itself tighter around you, blocking your face from view. that just won’t do.

you laugh yourself tired as the blanket moves around you, both sets of his and your hands struggling to get your face free. you giggle even harder through your struggle to breathe as he huffs and grunts under his breath at such an unnecessary frustration. your head finally pops through an opening and your lock eyes with a flustered and slightly annoyed bucky. “there’s my bunny,” he groans against your cheek, wasting no more time in grasping your face between his palms and pressing kisses all over you.

“i’m gonna take as many kisses as I want now. s’all your fault bun. not gonna accept an apology either,” his low voice rasps out between his attack.

trapping you firmly between his large arms and the thick fabric, he sighs and groans happily as he continues to "take" kisses. your lips bounce off of his every other kiss as he jumps around the curves of your face, keeping you immobile to his sweet torment. once your giggles and squeals turned a bit too breathless for his liking, he peppers his lips gingerly against your forehead, running his hands up and down your back to coax your breathing even. 

his large palms move up to your neck, one hand cradling your jaw and smoothly thumbing over your cheek. his eyes seem to grow more vibrant– more honest– silently flitting across your face as they take in every line, wrinkle, and mark that always cause his blood to rush and his heart to race.

“do you need something?” you repeat from earlier, only this time, a whisper, unworthy of the way his eyes reverently caress your face. even under a heavy blanket, his gaze leaves you feeling exposed and all too warm from just the simple sheen of his stare. your fingers itch to feel him, combing softly through his hair and down the sides of his face as he continues to stare in disbelief at the treasure housed prettily under his palms.

“only need you, bun. just need my sweet girl.” 

a gentle smirk tugged at his lips as your fingers trace over the stubble and scruff littered along his jaw. turning his head towards your palm, his lips meet each of your fingers with a purr of his lips. 

rough palms danced along the fabric encompassing you, working their way inside the folds of the very thing he wished was him, snug and woven around you. tugging the fabric loose his voice drops proudly, low and steady in a growl that always manages to change the temperature of any room, “now, you gonna let me under this? i need my bunny and i need those thighs."

[bakumu-archive]

say it back

Kisaki Tetta x Reader

wc: 2k

summary: kisaki returns to your secure hotel after a long day of work only to have his worst fear become reality. what will he find in the hotel room? his happiness or a future too dark to fathom?

cw: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. ANGST. NO HAPPY ENDING. blood, death, angst, fucking sadness, grief, Kisaki is a simp what else is new, also I gave him snippets of family history (mentions of abuse)

a/n: i cried writing this. holy hell. this was inspired by a wonderful anon and i hope this is what you wanted :) also if you want to feel it listen to The Departed by Michael Nyman on repeat

minors do not interact. this work contains mature themes and if you continue reading you have agreed you are willing to see such content

Kisaki knew something was wrong the second he stepped inside the hotel. The hotel he had specifically chosen because it came with five extra layers of security.

The reception area was empty and the front desk all but abandoned, except for a fresh smear of red splattered across the countertop.

It all made his pulse quicken as he made his guards run off to sweep the area because the most important thing in his life was supposed to be secure in this hotel. His only reason for living, for breathing, was on the top floor.

He ignores his men’s calls for him to leave as he races over to the elevator, hitting the button over and over with an urgency he didn’t know he possessed. His calm and cool exterior giving way to the beast underneath.

The elevator ride is too long. It lets him rethink every facet of his day; every small thing that went wrong that led him here. The way you practically pushed him out of bed because he was going to be late, how you prepared his morning coffee for him as he showered, the twinkle in your eye when you saw him put on his suit jacket, and the gentle shove out the door without even a kiss, your voice saying, “You can get your kiss when you get home! You're already late.”

The promise of your lips when he was done with all of this bullshit was the only thing keeping him going throughout the day. And now this.

He palms the gun he has hidden away; he shouldn’t need it, right? The elevator is going to open and he’s going to be greeted by Hanma’s smug grin as he carries a dead body or two.

The elevator doors ding open to the empty hallway, and it does nothing to quell the rising bile in his throat. It’s quiet, far too quiet. He pulls his gun from its holster and makes his way down the still hallway to the large wooden door at the far end.

He places his hand on the doorknob, the cool touch of the metal grounding him.

Inside, you're wrapped up in blankets on the luxurious couch, the soft plush of the blankets making a stark contrast to the elaborate wooden molding along the back of the couch.

As soon as you see him walk through the door, your eyes light up, “Tetta! You're home early!” You always say that, even if it’s not true. You try to get up from your blanket cocoon but almost fall over. Good thing he’s there to catch you, his arms wrapping around your back as you wrap yours around his neck.

“Did you have a good day, love?” he whispers into your neck, before taking a deep breath of your hair, letting the scent calm him.

“It would have been better if you were here, but Hanma helped me make dinner.”

“Oh, is Shuji still here?” Kisaki asks, looking around for his second in command.

You wave him off, “No, he left earlier. Something about being needed elsewhere or something.” You give him one of your dazzling smiles, before raising your eyebrows suggestively. “But Tetta, that means we’re all alone for the rest of the night.”

His hands cup your face, pulling your face close to his. “Oh yeah? And what happens if some bad guys come to attack us?”

“I know you’ll protect me.”

Your voice is so filled with love and trust it makes his heart hurt. He can’t not be kissing you for any longer. His heart bursts out of his chest when your lips connect with his. Your fingers loop through the belt loops at his side and you pull him closer to you.

Fuck, you’re so perfect.

It repeated in his head like a mantra as he kisses you over and over again. Until you're pulling away from him.

“Tetta, I love you.” It’s whispered breathlessly across his lips, straight into his soul, and you know it from the way he freezes.

Every time you say it, it catches him off guard; he doesn't feel worthy of your love, but the way you giggle and whine, “Say it back!” lets him pretend that he is.

He nuzzles his face into your neck, causing more giggles. He says it over and over again like a mantra, “I love you, I love you.”

I love you.

His hand is still on the doorknob, the metal warm from his grasp because he can’t bring himself to open the door. The echoes of your laughter fade from his mind as he pushes past the lump in his throat and turns the knob.

Broken glass crunches under his shoes when he enters the dark room. With only the city lights outside to guide his way, he steps over bodies, broken pieces of wood paneling, bullet casings, and smashed furniture while making his way towards the couch.

Your blankets are still there, thrown across the back molding. The plush now filled with rips and tears hangs limply against the wood.

Tetta walks towards the adjoining bedroom door, past a large, smashed vase with flowers strewn about on the floor. The same flowers that he surprised you with just a day ago. The pinks and blues of the buds clash wildly with the dark hue of blood coating the petals: a horrifyingly, beautiful dichotomy of life mocking him.

He hears a shuffle, spinning around to see Hanma trying to sit up. He’s clutching his side, blood oozing between his fingers and dripping on the floor. His feet are trying to push himself up the wall but failing to have enough strength.

Hanma’s voice is garbled and Kisaki can barely make out what he's saying. Between the blood pouring from his lips to the white noise coating Tetta’s brain, he can only register the small apologies as he keeps moving.

He needs to find you, or find evidence that you're truly not here. If you were taken, maybe you’re not—

He throws the door to the bedroom open, scanning the room. The four poster bed is collapsed, clothes thrown about the room, a spatter of bullet holes line each wall, and his men lay unmoving at his feet.

He cares about none of it when he moves further into the room.

And then he sees you.

His soul shatters as he runs to your side, collapsing to his knees next to you. He doesn't know what to do, his hands hovering over your body. He sees the holes in your chest, the deep red staining your shirt and now his knees as he kneels in it, in your blood.

“No, no, no,” he whispers over and over, taking your hand in his. This can’t be real. This isn’t happening.

He squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to wake from this nightmare of reality. But nothing works. The image of you laughing as he kisses your neck still hangs in his mind and now that's all but a memory.

A small whisper of his name has him opening his eyes; your eyes are barely open, and your voice so small he almost misses it.

“I knew you'd come.”

He can feel himself start to lose it, the grip on reality he has slipping away and he questions if this is really happening, but he won't squander this moment. He can’t.

“I’m here! Of course I'd come for you,” he says feverishly. He has, he always will.

You try to gather your strength, lifting your other hand up to his cheek. He holds it gently against his face, staring down at you.

“Please don't leave me. Don't go. I can’t go on without you,” his voice is a small whisper but you still hear him.

“I love you, Tetta.” Tears stream down his face, and you try to wipe them away with your thumb.

But Tetta can’t breathe; his whole life lies before him dying and he can’t do anything to stop it. You don't deserve this, you never deserved this.

“Come on Tetta, you have to say it back.” The soft smile on your face breaks his heart even more.

“I love you, I love you so much. I'm so sorry, I'm sorry,” he sobs, every cell in his body begging for this all to stop. For this to be a terrible joke that someones playing on him.

With as much strength as you can muster, you pull him down to you, guiding his lips to yours. The kiss is weak, your lips barely moving against his, all of your strength draining from your body as you spend this last moment with him.

He pours his love into you, giving everything he can to make this millisecond drag on longer and longer. It never has to end if this second goes on for eternity. This is enough, it has to be. It has to be. This is all he has. No amount of smarts or money can fix this fixed point in time.

He pulls away from the kiss to cradle your body in his arms, all of you drained out and gone, leaving behind an empty body that he knows every secret to. The way you like your tea, the look on your face when you have a secret to hide, how you take steaming hot showers and tease him about not being able to take the heat. You're his everything. Every piece of him is a part of you and now that you're gone, those pieces are too.

Fuck he can’t do this. He really can not do this.

Pulling you impossibly closer, he screams. He screams until he can’t anymore, until his voice is hoarse. And then he screams more. Anything to feel something that isn’t this. That isn’t this emptiness where you should be. The hole inside him that you carved out yourself is now painstakingly empty.

He forgot what it was to not feel. The change that you caused in him only dooms him now. He never felt like this before you. Not once when his dad was beating him, or when his mom abandoned him. Never before in his life has he known this feeling.

The thought of living without you for one second would have broken him so easily before, but now this? This eternity that he's doomed to live without you? He won't move past this. He can't. The only thing in his life worth living for is gone forever.

Kisaki lets his head fall, taking in your beautiful face one last time. Running his fingers along your lips, the lips he will never get to kiss again, he lets all of his tears fall. Let’s the river run through him as he builds a mental dam around everything that is you.

Every memory, every laugh, every joke. He builds it up brick by brick. Preserving it in place to hide it, to push the pain so far away from him so that he can stand and do what needs to be done. So that he can get revenge on the person that took everything from him, from the person that took you away from him.

He protects your body in his arms, carrying you out of the bedroom, past the flowers and the broken vase to lay you down on the couch. He covers you with the tattered blanket and gives you a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, fuck, I love you,” he whispers against your skin before he puts the last brick in place, sealing you up in his mind before turning to leave.

His new numb state is preferred to the hole you pierced in his heart, and he will end the people who did this to you, to the both of you. The elevator door dings as it opens, and he takes one look back before stepping inside.

The world will know his fury for taking the only thing he has ever loved.

[pleasantanathema]

A Little Taste

Pairing: Step-dad Erwin x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Pseudo incest (step-dad/step-daughter), Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Choking (on fingers and hand around throat), Secret Relationship

A/N: This is what Erwin brain rot and a too-long shower leads to. Please heed the warnings.

          Erwin was a commander in every sense, you could feel it in his stride, in the way he held himself, so real and full against the border of his composure. He was golden, muted power, even in the moments of silence you spent together— drinking in his study when you visited home for Christmas break, sitting in the breakfast nook in the early morning light as he read the paper and you perused books without actually reading them.

           Sometimes it made you sick to your stomach that you couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop thinking about your step-dad, but other times it brought you a silent thrill, made your chest burn with excitement, especially when you caught him looking back at you. Brilliant blue eyes were always waiting for your first move. That’s how the game worked. The initiating step had to be made by you; you had to show your willingness, your need for him, then he would take over.

          He was always so calm and in control, someone who changed the atmosphere whenever he drew near. But whenever you moved closer, you could see the softness in his eyes, felt the quietness between his fingers as they wrapped around your throat. He was a gentle lion, shy and soundless before the press of your lips would stir and rouse him into something more dangerous.

          You could still remember the first time you fucked him.

          Alone in his study, your mom hundreds of miles away on an impromptu business trip, and you asked him for a sip of the dark, amber colored liquor that sloshed in his glass. You immodestly draped yourself on his knee, short dress pooling around your hips to expose smooth thighs. He was eager to appease you, full lips curving into a smirk at your boldness.

          His long, thick fingers dipped into the drink, coating them in the expensive whiskey.

           “Have a taste.”

          He slipped his digits into your awaiting mouth, eyes watching your every move as you sucked the burning alcohol from his skin. He pressed down against your tongue, groaned as you swallowed around him and your heated lips slid along his knuckles.

          You thought it would be simple, just a little taste of something you weren’t supposed to have.

          But simplicity wasn’t enough for your selfish step-father.

          He placed his spit-slick fingers between your legs, pulling you deeper into his lap as pushed your panties to the side and curled his fingers inside you.

          “You’ve always been such a good girl,” your hands were sinking into his blonde undercut as you whimpered for him, “you always do exactly as you’re told, don’t you? I raised you that way.”

          He wasn’t wrong. He came into your life your first year of college, sweeping your mother off her feet with his handsome features and the promising wallet of a high-rise CEO. You weren’t beyond the age of raising, however, and Erwin took his time teaching you how to behave for formal dinners, took his time teaching you how to be the perfect little lady with etiquette books and trips to lavish department stores.

          “Yes, daddy,” you whispered. He used to hate when you called him that, said it made you sound childish. But as his other hand wrapped around your throat, keeping your chin tilted toward his face so he could watch you come undone, you could feel his cock hardening at the moniker.

          “You look so pretty like this, darling, take my fingers so well,” he knew you liked the praise, could feel your pulse pounding against his palm at the words.

          “I-I want you…” you mewled when his strong thumb began to circle your wet clit.

          “Want me to do what? Use your words like I taught you.”

          You were rocking in his lap, pressing yourself down his hand as you chased your high. Slick was running down your thighs. The noises were lewd, wet, the sound of fingers plunging into a too-willing cunt.

          “Want you to fuck me, wanna feel you inside me.”

          Your hands were trailing down his chest, fingertips stumbling as you pulled at the buttons of his dress shirt.

          “You can have me if you can take me.”

          You realized what he meant when he leaned back in the leather chair, allowing you to unbuckle his belt and pull his cock from his slacks. His cock was fat, long, hot blood thumping beneath silken skin and thick veins. It was pretty, weeping with pre-cum and flushed pink at the flared tip. You couldn’t help but to touch him, moaning as the fingers inside of you suddenly didn’t feel like enough.

          It dawned on you that he was just as needy for you as you were him.

          Erwin pulled his hand from between you drenched thighs as you straddled him, bringing his sticky fingers back to your lips. You took them in, tongue lapping at the bittersweet taste of you on your daddy’s fingers.

          “How’s that taste?”

          You closed your eyes as he greedily pressed his fingers down your throat.

          “ ‘s good,” you murmured with your stuffed mouth, lips closing tighter as his cockhead brushed between your slick folds.

          “Keep them in there and keep quiet. Can’t have the whole neighborhood hearing you scream for me.”

          Heat raced to your cheeks at his words and at the burn of his cock pressing into you. Your walls were tight around him, his pumping veins molding to your insides. One of your hands pressed against his exposed chest for balance as he started to thrust, your panties softly cutting into the fat of your thighs as he spread you. You were still slipping down his cock, body unsure if it could take all of his length. But, of course, you were a good girl for him, eventually taking every inch of him in so he could bottom out inside of you.

          You weren’t sure how long you were moaning around his fingers, lingering notes of slick and whiskey painting your tongue. Time was inconsequential as he took you, other hand secured at your hip so he could bounce and move you how he wanted.

          It felt so good to be used by him, to hear him grunting below you, to feel the sheen of sweat building on his chest.

          “So good,” he groaned, “so fucking good for me.”

          His balls were slapping against your tender ass cheeks, his damp slacks sliding against your thighs, the blonde curls at the base of his cock kissing against your swollen clit.

          You wanted to remember this moment forever, wanted it to burn and sear against your thoughts like a polaroid in a dark room.

          “Daddy,” the name was a muffled sound in your mouth, reverberating down his fingers and forearm.

          “Daddy’s gonna cum inside you, darling,” your lashes fluttered open at his confession, and your chest tightened at the sight of his normally perfect hair falling against his forehead, his cheekbones stained pink with lust. He was as undone as you were, his jaw flexing and eyebrows pressed together as he took what he wanted from your body.

          “Please,” you begged, spit drooling from the sides of your mouth as you moaned uncontrollably with every plunge of his cock spreading your pussy apart, “pleasepleaseplease.”

          He knew what you were pleading for. You wanted to cum with him, didn’t want to be left behind as you both barreled down the path of no return.

          Erwin slowly broke you apart as he swirled his thumb over your clit, a purposeful, brutish pace that matched the cock skimming along your gummy walls. But he was becoming just as unhinged as your cunt sucked him in more and more, your belly clenching as you got pulled closer and closer to ecstasy.

          “Come on, cream on my cock, baby, cum for me, cum for daddy.”

          You almost gagged yourself on his fingers as your head fell forward from the forcefulness of your orgasm. You screamed around his skin, felt his knuckles against your teeth as you held back tears. It all felt too hot, too fast, like he’d stretched you like a rubber band and snapped you back together. Your belly was tensing over and over again, shocks of pleasure racing down to your toes, making your fingers curl against the downy hairs of his chest.

          Erwin came soon after you, holding a growl back in his throat as he buried his seed into your depths. Some part of you hoped that he came just from seeing what he’d done to you. You dreamed that he reached the point of euphoria just from watching you cum, watching you cry and shake for your daddy in his lap, his cock stuffed so deep in your pussy that he could feel your heart beating.

          When he pulled out of you, he quickly pushed your panties back into place, two fingers patting against your abused clit.

          “Don’t lose a drop of my cum, darling. I want to feel it inside you next time I fuck you.”

          That first fuck was just the first move, just the first taste.

          Every time you visited home from college, Erwin found a way to take you. Some nights were quick and hasty, the two of you fighting against time so you wouldn’t be caught. Asking you to help him find something in his car, only to have you back in his lap with his massive hand over your mouth. Following you after you said goodnight, only to press you against the shower wall and have you praying that the heavy sound of water against the tiles covered the sounds of you whimpering for your daddy.

          There was a time he was bold enough to slide his hand up your skirt at a family dinner after you playfully pulled at his pant leg under the table. Your moans bubbled into the wine glass that you nursed, thighs clenching around his wrist.

          Erwin was relentless whenever you released him, whenever you made that first step and teased him, asked him for more cum, touched him when no one was looking.

          Your favorite moments were when you could find him alone, run your hot tongue along the shell of his ear and tell him how good you’ve been for him. How you think of him when you’re away from him, how you imagine that your hands are his when you touch yourself during the witching hours of night. Sometimes he would strip you and lay you naked across his desk so you could show him exactly how you make yourself scream when you’re alone.

          Sometimes he would leave you with things to remember him by. He’d suck a bruise in the shape of his mouth on your breast, leave nail marks along your thighs, smack a scorching handprint into your ass cheek that you’d feel for days on end.

          He once had you filled with shame as he pounded you into the bed he shared with your mother. With his back pressed against yours, his hand back around your throat where it belonged, he whispered promises that couldn’t be kept.

          “I’m yours, darling, just like you’re mine.”

          Your ears burned with the vows as your pussy spread to take him in deeper, harder.

          “I’ll fuck you even after you get married, my little girl will always be mine.”

          Affirmations would tumble out your open mouth, little whines of yes daddy and I’m yours.

          But you knew one day the game would end. Someone would find the pieces, someone would hear you, see you, catch you, but the thrill of it had you cumming even harder whenever daddy decided to play with you.

[cryoaquila]

surprise breakfast

prompt; making breakfast when your two boyfriends are being needy is not an easy task.

pairings; tartaglia x kaeya x gn!reader

themes; modern au, polyam, fluff, suggestive themes, food mention.

wc; 2k

the sounds of running water stir you awake. drowsily, you blink the remaining sleep away from your eyes as you sit up with a stretch. you notice that the bed was surprisingly empty as you were used to waking up next to your boyfriends who were always ready to snuggle with you and convince you to sleep a little longer. you look towards the bathroom where the sound was coming from and you see steam escaping from the small gap at the bottom of the shut door. instead of waking you up, they must have decided to shower and leave you to get some extra shut-eye. it was such a sweet gesture to you since, lately, you haven’t been sleeping well, but now that you were awake you decide to return their kind gesture by making a surprise breakfast for the three of you. draping your legs over the side of the bed, you put on your slippers before heading to the kitchen.

you let out a small yawn as you turn the light on before grabbing a pan from the kitchen cabinet and placing it on the stovetop. you tap your foot while thinking about what to make - there were so many great options for breakfast: omelets, crepes, sunny-side-up eggs, waffles, bacon, oatmeal, your mouth was practically watering thinking about all the possibilities and, secretly, you wanted to eat it all. the shower shutting off causes you to come back to your senses. well, now that a surprise breakfast was out of the question since they’d definitely be done drying off and see what you were up to, you decide to let them choose what they want. to prepare for whatever they ask for, you begin to gather some bowls, plates, and other supplies while waiting for them.

as you grab a few extra utensils, you hear the two of them enter the kitchen. you turn around to face them, a spatula in hand, ready to grant their breakfast wishes. kaeya was, unsurprisingly, only wearing a towel around his waist while tartaglia - who was still dripping wet and hadn’t dried off properly, per usual - was dressed in just a plain shirt and underwear. “good morning! i was going to make you two a surprise breakfast, but you finished showering quicker than i thought; so instead, i was wondering if either of you have any requests for what you want to eat this morning?”

kaeya makes his request without missing a beat, “i just want the two of you for breakfast.” he wraps an arm around your waist and another arm around tartaglia’s waist before pulling you both closer to him. you grin from how cheeky he was being and from the morning kiss he gives you.

“that would be the sweetest breakfast imaginable.” tartaglia beams before also giving you a quick kiss on your cheek, but his kiss was a little wetter than kaeya’s, and you had to wipe some water droplets off your cheek.

while the request was cute, you wanted something more substantial than your boyfriends for breakfast since you were actually hungry. “c’mon, that might be too sweet for breakfast, let’s wait until dessert for that, alright? seriously now, what do you two want?”

“all we really want this morning is some hugs and kisses from you,” tartaglia dramatically pouts, “you went to bed so early last night and then we didn’t get to shower with you this morning since we wanted you to sleep in, but we just want the affection we missed out on while you were asleep.”

“aw,” you gush, his adorable words almost causing you to forgo cooking breakfast all together in favor of ordering if not for what kaeya says next.

“and, you know, maybe some pancakes alongside the hugs and kisses...” he ears a playful glare from tartaglia and a snicker from you. “what?” he scoffs, shrugging slightly, “i am actually hungry after the shower.”

“pancakes are simple enough! is that ok with you too, babe?” you ask tartaglia.

he turns his attention back to you with a wink, “you know me, i like any and all food - especially if you or kaeya makes it.”

with that confirmation, you begin gathering ingredients to make the batter. a couple of pancakes shared between the three of you with warm syrup slathered on top did indeed sound quite good for a lazy morning; but you decide to spice it up a little by using a large heart-shaped mold for the pancakes to cook in. as you place everything down on the countertop your apron suddenly gets wrapped around the front of you, “here,” kaeya says, tying it in the back, “you almost forgot your apron.”

“oh, thank you!” but soon after thanking him, you realize he had ulterior motives for doing so. after tying the article of clothing, his hands trace down your chest and stomach before gently grabbing your waist, pulling you back into his body for an embrace. he kisses the side of your neck as you relax into his comforting touch and the sweet scent of the shampoo he used earlier washes over you. you lean back into him, ready to close your eyes and let him carry you back to bed, but the grumbling of your stomach causes you to push that idea to the side, for now. “hey now, less seduction and more pancake preparation.”

“only you can make an apron look like a designer outfit,” tartaglia comments, adding a whistle at the end.

“well,” you mutter as kaeya lets you go from his embrace, “you two would look great in an apron, especially if that was the only thing you were wearing.” you chuckle, knowing you were adding fuel to the fire that was their neediness, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

“i mean,” tartaglia says as he tugs on kaeya’s towel, “one of us is already almost there.”

kaeya quickly grabs the hem of the towel to make sure it didn’t fall off from his tugging, a soft chuckle on his lips as he waved his finger, “nuh-uh, like they said, not until dessert time.”

while they continue to tease each other, you begin mixing the pancake batter together. while you combine the ingredients, some of the wet mixture splashes out of the bowl and gets on your apron and your face. before you can wipe it off you feel tartaglia gently take your chin into his hand, tilting your head upward to look at him, “here let me help you clean it off,” he then kisses you before licking the sweet batter off your cheeks. he clicks his tongue, “it tastes as good as you do.” you feel your face begin to turn red from his words. both of them were always so needy in the morning to the point you’d usually just order some breakfast to be delivered so you could stay in bed with them and enjoy some extra cuddles and kisses; in fact, sometimes the three of you would stay there until the afternoon - and you loved days like that. but, today, you were determined to get these special not-surprise pancakes finished for them, and their distractions were slowing you down. thus, with some reluctance, you nudge him away, turning back towards the stove and your mixture. you pour a little of the batter into the heart-shaped mold, the warm, melted butter sizzling underneath the batter. once the shape was set, you remove the mold and now it was time to wait for it to cook before flipping it over. you turn away from the stove, eyeing your boyfriends, who both had the widest grins on their faces knowing that now they would have your attention while the pancake cooks. you open your arms, ready for their hugs, giving them a playful little eye-roll when they practically drag you away from the stovetop so they could both hug you and each other at the same time with one on one side of you and the other on the other side of you.

“you know we can’t help but want your attention every morning,” tartaglia’s voice was muffled as he nuzzled his face into your hair.

“especially when you look so adorable every morning.” kaeya adds quickly.

“i know it’s a normal thing for you two, but can’t you wait until the food is ready? maybe get some affection from each other while i cook?” you ask, trying to find a happy medium between their neediness and your want to finish these pancakes in a timely manner.

they look at each other, small smiles on both their faces, “we shared plenty of kisses in the shower, we want some from you now.” kaeya replies.

“you can’t wait for the pancakes to be done first?” you question.

“but waiting is hard…” tartaglia pouts.

“you two are the reason why food delivery services love us.” you sneer.

the three of you stop your conversation suddenly upon smelling burnt food. you scamper out of their grasps and over to the pan. you grab the spatula and try to flip the heart-shaped pancake, but half of it sticks to the bottom of the pan and what you do manage to flip is dark brown to black on the other side. tartaglia and kaeya look at each other worriedly before slowly walking over to your side. you feel sad at seeing the broken, burnt remains of the heart-shaped pancake in front of you. kaeya turns the burner off while tartaglia takes the pan, heading to the sink to dispose of the mess.

an awkward silence falls over the three of you and kaeya scratches the back of his head before trying to make some small talk, “that pancake burned really quickly, huh?”

“i guess the pan was too hot and… i should’ve been watching it.” you sigh, rubbing your forehead upon feeling a small headache coming on.

tartaglia turns the sink off, picking up a towel to dry the pan off, “it’s not your fault that you weren���t watching it cook.” he says, trying to comfort you.

kaeya rubs your upper back, “yeah, it’s more our fault for distracting you. sorry about that.”

“yeah, i’m sorry too.” tartaglia adds, bringing the cleaned pan over to the stovetop.

you shake your head, “eh, it’s alright. you two were just trying - and succeeding - at being cute.” you lean into kaeya’s chest, muttering, “i’m not upset, just a little bummed that the first pancake i cooked in a while had to burn…”

“well,” tartagla places the pan back down, grabbing a little bit of butter and placing it in the pan while kaeya turns the burner back on, “there’s still plenty of pancake batter left, right?”

kaeya glances at the bowl, “yeah, enough to make a couple more.”

“then let’s redeem ourselves!” tartaglia says as the butter begins to melt and sizzle in the warm pan.

kaeya picks up the heart-shaped mold, placing it back into the pan, “yeah, and we’ll help you this time instead of distracting you.”

tartaglia gives you the bowl filled with the pancake batter, “and then after we enjoy our not-surprise pancakes together we can go and get our kisses and cuddles.” 

their enthusiasm uplifts your mood and your pour some more of the batter into the mold, “and without distraction, you should be able to get what you want sooner!” you put the bowl back onto the counter, crossing your arms with a sly smirk, “and maybe after we enjoy our pancakes, some ‘dessert’ for breakfast might be in order.”

[the-slasher-files]

Affection

INCLUDES MICHAEL 

I have gotten a few different requests for a softer more affectionate side of Michael so I decided to put them together and create this, a longer (almost 2k words) descriptive drabble about showering with Michael. All this talk about getting Michael to shower and what his hygiene is like had me thinking lol... Now this is deeply inspired by @slasherholic and their writing style, of course I made it my own but it is defiantly a nod to them :) Thank you for your asks and requests!.. hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

There was a sting on your cool soft skin as you stepped into the blazing stream, raining down from the old head above. Through gritted teeth you bared your head back allowing the water to soak you, down your hair, trailing every muscle in your shoulders and back. Burning your flesh with a pleasent tingle from the contrast of temperatures as you had just been outside on a walk, the autumn wind was sharp kissing your face and seeping into your bones. Closing your eyes you calmed completely around the hot water, tension ebbed from your muscles and your jaw; it had been a long day, and you could not have needed this more. 

Steam flowed off your skin and out the top of the curtain like soft clouds, painting the mirror and sweating on the tiles, finally reaching the cracked door and seemingly disappearing into the night. Soft hands ran through your hair pushing away the water along the edges of your face, pooling beneath your feet and draining with quiet gurgles. 

The placid air had suddenly changed as you heard the shower curtain pull along the metal rod, screeching at the force; you did not open your eyes for you knew exactly who it was. The smell of iron, rich dirt and a firm musk coating the air, almost battling with the steam and the fresh smells of your body wash. The curtain superseded it’s own path with the same screech and crinkles, a large, mysterious presence appeared in front of you, out of the steam that seemed to billow around him. 

Opening your eyes you met his; one brown, dark and deep with a slight hint of yellow around the iris, outlined like black ink. The other scarred; a dull shade you could never decide if it was more blue or more grey, it reminded you of a thunderstorm approaching, devouring any bright sky and coating the blue in dark streaks and shadows, while his scar was in the shape of a catastrophic bolt of lighting, forking and brutally tearing through the iris; Much like the shape, a force of nature, leaving destruction in it’s wake.

Michael just watched you with a look you could never place, and sometimes you just didn’t want to know what that look meant, it was a mystery, like him; never solvable, never predictable, dangerous, and so beautiful in the hidden detail all at once. Loving this gaze was a curse and a privilege. You were one of the only people who ever got to meet these forceful eyes, see the detail in them and live. Perhaps that was his affection. 

He stood in front of you naked, watching the water run in a thousand streams down your features. Drippling down the ends of your hair into your rosy nipples, cascading down your stomach breaking into different paths; some glistening your sex while others flowed down your legs, meeting every tendon and mark your lover had made. Your eyes watched his as they surveyed the trails of wetness blanketing your smooth skin, it was like he was almost trying to remember where the water flowed and broke away, almost envious of the streams that got to touch you with such care and tenderness. Michael could never do the same. You both knew that, and you had accepted that long ago.

Towering above you he took an easy step forward, making you step back a little allowing him to have some heat from the water as well. Michael’s deep rich curls were now painted black, sticking to his forehead tracing the scars he wore, and now settling easy on his muscular neck. His eyes closed for a moment as you wondered if he had felt just the same soft pleasure of stepping into the torrid flow. The steam had started to make piece with the man and it swelled off his broad toned shoulders like a smoke stack into the cool air.

Michael's angular jaw eased and his shoulders fell ever so slightly; to the normal person they would never notice such subtleties, but you had become trained to watch for the smallest give aways in his body. It was the only indicators he would give you; dropped shoulder were relaxed and he was comfortable, hardened eyes and a slight twitch in his wrist meant nothing good, but over time you became aware. Sometimes too aware, but you had been molded to his liking. This is what he wanted, this was his artistry, a slight fear constantly in your heart right behind the muscle. This was loving Michael and you accepted it through and through.

The vail of his baroness and tension billowed away with the steam, he was at ease, and he allowed you to see this. Perhaps the shape genuinely trusted you, or maybe it was just him knowing you could never do serious damage to his imposing body. Michael was like a brick wall and no matter how many nights you wailed on him or tried to hurt him blood was never drawn, just your own.

Small hands slowly fell upon his shoulders, every movement he watched carefully, but there was not the usual harness to his stoney eyes. Creeping your fingers into his drenched locks, slow circles and light pressure along the top of his neck made him melt inside; and there it was, the trust, he had closed his eyes accepting the pleasure. Feeling the tough muscles under your fingers ease, you moved your hands along the tendons in his thick neck, watching the water flow along your hands and down into the slight dip of his collar bone, then continued to his broad expansive chest where you settled your hands among the pinkish raised scars from bullets and blades. They looked so small compared to him, lifting effortlessly as the muscles rose and fell with each soft breath. You couldn't help but find a trance in the way the water swept down him as well, each trail seemed more interesting than the last. Michael allowed you to look at his details and touch where you wanted, from his smooth chest to the dips in his abs, and the v in his obliques, washing the water with a slight hue of pink from his last kills. This was more than a privilege at this point, you took extreme pride in these extraordinarily rare moments he allowed. You were the only one who could ever touch the shape the way you did, the way he let you. This is how he made you feel good, this was his love.

Was this all a trick? A sick game he liked to play? Toying with you like a lion would before the kill?

Looking up at the towering figure locking eyes, his hands meticulously found home on your waist and slowly he leaned down, blocking the water from you and he met his lips with yours. Michael had kissed you, tenderly, softly. A foreign place he tried desperately to be comfortable in. You moved your lips cautiously with his, waiting for the large forceful hand to grab your neck, or to be pushed against the freezing tiles with blood running down your skull. Your eyes opened trying to see what he was planning but his eyes were closed, and his brow was furrowed seeking the love he knew he couldn't produce.

Blood ran cold in your veins as he pulled away, eyeing you up with a strange softness you never thought was possible. The kiss left you breathless, and your mouth was slightly agape as he took one of his large hands placing it under your jaw, cupping your chin and running a thick thumb along your sweet lips. Carefully you placed your shaky hands on either side of his sharp jaw, holding him as he let his head slack slightly and rest tenderly. It dawned on you that you were practically holding a predator in your hands, the claws were hidden but always still beneath the surface, your heart raced at the thought and you tried to slow your breath as much as you could, not wanting to start the predators chase. In this moment you saw a glint of what looked like pain in Michael’s eyes, if he was even capable of feeling such an emotion, he knew what you thought of him. Tonight all he wanted was to feel like a normal man, he wanted to give you his affection and nothing more, but the task was nearing impossible for him.

Michael started to run his massive hands around even inch of you, gingerly drawing shapes into and around your chest, rough fingers dipped between your breasts and following the water, luring him downward along your stomach, tracing every mark he made on you; from the bruises on your hips to the bites on your thighs, to the long jagged scar he had made on your stomach where his beloved blade sank a little too far into the skin. You were his and that much was clear. 

The shape allowed you to pull his face closer to yours as you placed another kiss to his chapped lips, taking it in more and trusting him with you enough to give into the rare pleasure of the gentleness. Your body so starved of it that when the opportunity presented itself you hesitated deeply. Michael had taught you that a person could be deprived of such needs for a long time and when he gave it to you, you put it in question.

Was it all you ever thought you needed? Was it just an illusion your head fueled? 

Stained crimson fingers that seemed to never be fully clean moved to the back of neck, fingers circling and moving slowly into your hair, Michael mirrored your movements that had put him at ease some minutes ago. His rosy lips left yours and trailed along your jaw, down your neck pausing to feel your pulse, and nipping at the tender flesh of your collar bone, pulling drawn out moans of pleasure you delicately webbed your fingers into his hair. Every touch, lick and nip put you into a blissful haze, forgetting where you were and blocking out the sound of the water spitting and gurgling, Michael was the only thing that mattered in this moment, and the world was lost. 

His wandering hands had now moved to your hips again, his lips were gone and Michael had you turn around, not to look at him any longer, just hot rhythmic breathing leaving your skin numb. Slowly his gentleness was failing him, urges and twisted thoughts were beginning to hound him like a pack of coyotes howling from the ridgeline hidden in the shadows. Your euphoria coating too thickly to see this, you just stood in the current, eyes closed and body relaxed, there were a few more strokes of your back muscles and stolen kisses to your neck before he was gone.  

Michael had left silently like the shape he was. Gone into the night that called him. Where he belonged. Free. A tortuous beauty that made you ache. The rare moment of affection was gone, burned away by the steam and lost hopes. Michael was just a force, a shadow that could and will never be tamed. Haunting people and leaving destruction behind. Just like his knife the pain you felt of his absence was sharp and cold amongst the scolding flow.

This was loving him. This was his affection.  

[yueyimold]

multi shot shower squeegees mold

China 2k mold maker, offer 2 component window cleaner mold, multi shot shower squeegees mold, gyratory glass wiper mold, two colour hand held wiper blade mold

[fantasia-monogram]

Happy birthday (the cupcakes are ruined)

♥️ Jaeyoon x gender neutral reader.

♥️ Smut; just 2k words (!) of what I'd call comfort porn, lol. It's Jaeyoon's birthday. An awkward first time handjob with a little sprinkle of oral happens. Jaeyoon is a total sweetheart and the reader tries their best! You could almost take it as a crack fic, I guess I can't take anything seriously (and I imagine sexy time with Jaeyoon must be fun anyway).

♥️ Disclaimer: this is just for fun! I’m not claiming that’s how he is in real life, it’s just my imagination doing whatever it wants. Read at your own discretion.

Baking cupcakes, decorating them, waiting for Jaeyoon to come back from work, then cuddling together and, if it escalated, an extra surprise the mere thought of made your heart beat faster... Through the three months of your relationship, you’ve already figured your boyfriend wasn’t big on celebrations, and his busy work schedule didn’t leave much time to elaborate plans anyway. That’s why your idea for the night was fairly simple.

Except, here you were, staring in disbelief at the burnt cupcakes. You could swear you only left the kitchen for two minutes, long before the set baking time. You carefully peeled each cupcake one from the silicone mold in hopes they could, somehow, still be salvageable. Well, you were in for a disappointment, as the burn had already reached way below the crust the moment you turned off the oven.

The sound of the front door opening caused you to hold your breath in horror.

“Baby, I’m home,” you heard Jaeyoon announcing. His voice was noticeably tired.

You froze, still holding one of the silicon molds, unsure of what to do.

“I’m gonna shower first, okay?”

He didn’t wait for your answer, instead going straight to the bathroom.

Two rooms away, you were trying to think of something. You must have lost track of time again, because it felt as if your boyfriend finished showering in seconds.

The moment you caught him standing in the doorway, you threw a kitchen towel over the tray and, for safety measures, moved to the side in a way that made you cover any proof of your failure.

“Happy birthday!” you exclaimed cheerfully. “By the way, the cupcakes are ruined.”

Jaeyoon blinked a couple times, then snorted, visibly amused.

“It’s fine, baby. Thank you anyway,” he said with a smile, approaching. He sneaked his arms around your waist, glancing over your outfit, which was a very bold word, considering it consisted of baby pink briefs and an oversized white T-shirt.

Another thing he wasn’t big on was wearing clothes at home. You were still warming up to the idea, so you always had to throw something on top (comfy sweats or T-shirts were acceptable, and he wasn’t really a fan of fancy underwear either - you appreciated that greatly). Jaeyoon, however, unashamedly walked around in briefs only. God, it wasn’t easy for you. You couldn’t say you didn’t like what you saw, but it was so distracting it almost forced you to keep eye contact with him.

Looking anywhere else would make you blush profusely.

You snatched his attention away by placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“There is still one more present I have for you…” you started, looking up at him.

“What is it?” he asked, smiling. Damn, those cute dimples…

As an answer, you glided your hand from between his exposed pecs, down his abs and happy trail, stopping at the edge of his underwear, cautiously hooking a finger under it.

“Hey, we don’t have to.” Jaeyoon kissed your forehead, lightly grabbing your wrist. “Haven’t you told me you don’t feel ready yet?”

“I’m not ready to go all the way,” you explained, looking to the side, “But I wanna take a little step forward tonight.”

You pulled out of his grip and, biting your lip, placed your hand on his already impressive bulge. You didn’t expect it to be so warm to the touch.

“Okay, maybe not so little”, you snorted.

“Are you sure?” Jaeyoon uttered, sounding a bit out of breath.

You nodded with a smile on your lips.

Your boyfriend, despite very obvious physical attraction to you, has always been a total sweetheart when it came to reaching next levels of intimacy. He knew you had no real experience and never pushed you into anything. It took you over a month to get from shy smooches on the cheek to actual making out, and even then, whenever he’d get too aroused, he’d stop in his tracks and ask you to let him cool down a bit. You almost couldn’t believe his patience, even though he’d insist he was just being a decent human being everytime - that wasn’t the experience you had with your exes, though.

This time, you had no intention to leave him with nothing.

“Do we go to the bedroom, or…” you stopped mid sentence, courage leaving you all of sudden.

“I don’t mind just staying in the kitchen,” he replied, planting another kiss, this time on the side of your neck. “It’s so nice and toasty in here after all that baking.” Another one. “Or maybe it’s just because I’m excited for your present.”

You felt a warm shiver spreading through your body. You motioned Jaeyoon towards the counter before the arousal could haze your mind completely.

A makeout session with a lot of tongue followed, with him leaning against the edge of the counter while you trapped him in place with your arms. You really felt in control despite the height difference, plus, it gave you a nice opportunity to squeeze his glorious butt from time to time - he seemed to like it a lot, moaning into your mouth each time you did that.

One particularly low moan encouraged you to slide your hands to his front. He kept you so occupied with his kisses that you pushed his briefs down almost absentmindedly, while you two stayed pressed tightly against each other.

The weight and warmth of Jaeyoon’s hard cock, that you could feel against your stomach even through the fabric of your shirt, made you break the kiss with a surprised gasp.

Jaeyoon giggled sweetly.

“I guess I did get a bit too excited, after all.”

He pulled back (not without pecking your cheek for a good measure) and carefully sat on the floor. After a short hiss because of the direct contact with the cool tiles, he leaned against the cabinet door below the counter.

Not breaking eye contact, he shamelessly spread his legs.

“So, what are we doing?” he asked with a wink.

Doing your best to hold back a nervous laugh, you sat in front of him, the lewd sight of your boyfriend sprawled for you like that making your head spin with desire. You never felt like this for any of your previous partners, but Jaeyoon absolutely deserved to take all of your firsts.

“I was… thinking…” you mumbled, finding it hard to not glance at his dick every now and then, “I just wanted to focus on you tonight… Maybe I could use my hands?”

You hesitantly looked into Jaeyoon’s eyes. The tender gaze he gave you caused your heart to swell with love.

He reached for your hands and held them delicately.

“Can’t wait, baby,” he whispered, “I’m going to guide you, okay?”

A chuckle escaped your mouth. He really couldn’t give up on any chance to hold your hands.

Not wasting any more time, you looked up at the counter. Conveniently, a jar of organic coconut oil was within your reach, so you grabbed it together with a spoon placed nearby.

“It’s fine to use this as lube, right?” you made sure, uncapping the jar. “I’ve read it somewhere over the Internet.”

“It’s more than fine,” Jaeyoon reassured you, tactfully omitting his amusement over your possible research.

Well, your search history was already messed up. It better be worth it.

Jaeyoon’s face was getting flushed; you’d find it cute if not for the situation you found yourself in.

You spooned a hefty amount of oil. After moving the jar out of the picture, you slathered the makeshift lube all over your palms.

“Where do we begin?”

In a matter of seconds, your hands were in Jaeyoon’s again. He guided your left hand to hold his cock at the base. The sight was mouth watering --- your palm looked so small against the thickness of his shaft, but you did your best, holding it firmly with the pressure suggested by Jaeyoon himself.

He made you circle your right hand around him, with your thumb resting against the underside. Here, the pressure applied wasn’t as hard, so your boyfriend started guiding you through the entire length with slow, careful strokes. The whole experience was so intense for you, even though you were the one pleasuring your boyfriend; his cock was so hard and hot, you could feel all the veins under your fingers, and the gentle guidance only made it feel even more intimate.

The strokes became faster and more desperate. Jaeyoon would let out a breathless moan every time you squeezed his cock near the top. Soon enough, when you brushed your thumb over the head, you noticed pearly droplets of precum smearing along with it.

You didn’t even realize how fast your breathing has become. You caught yourself letting out a quiet, breathy moan from time to time, now unable to look away from the filthy sight in front of you.

The best thing about it? Jaeyoon’s whines were becoming louder and more prolonged with each jerking move now. You could see his arms and thighs shaking.

“Let me…” you whispered, your voice hushed by the weight of your desire.

Jaeyoon let you take control, his hands now squeezed into fists, resting on his thighs. Since you got the gist of the stroking already, you dared to glance at your boyfriend’s face.

He looked divine and so vulnerable at the same time: his head thrown back, image of pure bliss on his face. His sculpted chest heaving for air. His abs quivering.

You couldn’t believe it was you who turned him into this gorgeous mess.

“Oh God…”, he moaned, eyelashes fluttering, heart-shaped lips just slightly open. “You’re doing amazing… Baby…”

You couldn’t hold back a giddy smile that beamed across your lips. Turning your gaze back at his cock, you saw - and felt, oh, you felt it so well - it twitch.

As another motion reached just under the crown, Jaeyoon’s hands were back on yours, this time stopping you from any movement.

“Stop... Wait...” he pleaded, breathing heavily, sweat rolling down his chest. “Gonna cum…”

“Isn’t that like… the whole point?” you asked innocently. Jaeyoon looked back at you, wide-eyed.

He didn’t want you to move your hands anymore? Fine.

You licked your lips and leaned towards his shaft. Mustering up your courage, you kissed the tip tenderly, making a soft, wet sound.

Things happened quickly. You didn’t even get a chance to fully lean back to your previous position when you heard Jaeyoon whine loudly. You felt him tighten the grip on your wrists. Next thing you knew, he came in thick spurts on your chest and neck, some of it even hitting the lower side of your cheek.

You froze for a moment. Did you just really… bring him over the edge? With so little touching?

Jaeyoon’s long sigh snapped you out of your musings. He finally let his hands slide off yours. You let go of his spent cock, putting it down as gently as you could.

Your boyfriend tucked his fingers under your chin. He raised it so you could face him.

His relaxed smile was a tell-tale sign you did an amazing job.

“There is my birthday cupcake,” Jaeyoon murmured, smearing his cum on your face with his thumb, squishing your cheek a bit too much in the process. “With icing and stuff.”

You tried to playfully squirm away, but he firmly held your chin in place and leaned down to give you a deep, messy kiss.

Jaeyoon backed off a little to look into your eyes again. His gaze dropped down theatrically. You followed it, only to discover there was a wet spot on the light pink fabric of your briefs.

“It’s a moist one, too.”

Before you even thought of getting embarrassed, he hooked his arm tightly around your waist. He easily lifted you off the floor, only to seat you on the kitchen counter.

He situated himself between your spread legs.

“I better eat it before it gets all soggy.”

[aizawaorkuroo]

Missed You

Ship: Dabi x reader

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Dabi meant to come see you last week. He really did. He just got busy, but he’s here now whether you like it or not. 

Warnings: Language, Choking, Biting, Vaginal Fingering, dubcon(ish not really)

AN: dabi’s fucking weird lmao

________________________

Dabi closes the door to your apartment gently behind him. He’s late by maybe a week. But hey, who can blame him? He’s a busy man, and at the end of the day, you’re not dating. Not really. He’s not going to take you out to fancy dinners or hold your hand while you walk through the park. Well, at least not when the sun’s up. It’s not his style. 

And even if he wanted to, he can’t. He can’t give you all the things he knows you want. But whenever he brings it up, you put your hands on your hips and jerk your chin at him, insisting that you don’t need any of that sentimental crap. But he knows you deserve better. Whatever.

Despite his edge, something sharp pokes at his heart when he hears the shower running. He kicks off his shoes and lets his jacket fall from his shoulders, a cruel smirk pulling at his lips. He shuffles towards your bathroom, and as he gets closer, he realizes he can hear music streaming through the door. Perfect.

The door opens softly, waves of humidity flowing into his face along with the notes of whatever band you were listening to. Your voice reaches his ears as you hum along to the music, words intermingling with nonsense. The wicked grin on his face stretches wide as he jerks an arm out to yank back your shower curtain.

A scream claws its way out of your throat, and you stumble trying to cover yourself with your arms. Your eyes focus on puckered patchwork skin, and you breathe out his name, hanging your head as you sigh. Dabi smirks as you shake your head, eyeing the way water rolls off your body. The water splashes out of the shower, forming puddles on the floor. You turn your gaze up, fixing Dabi with a glare.  

“Dabi,” you hiss. “Mrs. Mai is gonna get mad about the water.” He sneers as your concern, pulling off his shirt before fumbling with his belt.

“If that old hag downstairs gives you any shit, let me know.” His voice is calm and cruel, sending chills down your spine. You cross your arms and try to ignore the way your stomach flips when Dabi’s eyes seize the newly exposed flesh.

“Dabi.” His eyes lazily trail up your body before landing on your eyes. He’s really here. You bite down on your tongue, ignoring the sour taste in your mouth. “You said you were gonna be here last week.” His face hardens at your comment, but only for a moment. His cruel smile reappears as he kicks his pants off.

“Must’ve gotten caught up with something,” he murmurs, distant and cold. Your face twists unpleasantly at the thought. You let your eyes appraise him, making note of the small bruises and cuts that pepper his already marred skin. You knew what he did; how could you not? But your stomach still curdles at the thought of losing Dabi.

“Yea, that sounds right. I got so busy I forgot to come back,” he taunts. You pout as his words, but it just spurs him on. He slips off his boxers and steps in the shower, invading your space.

“Hmm? Does that bother you?” You steal your eyes over his shoulder, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But he moves forward, crowding you against the wall until there’s nowhere left to look but at him. His arms create a solid cage around you, not letting you escape.

“Why are you upset?” His breath fans over your face, and your eyes flick down to his lips. “Did you miss me?”

Something dark creeps into his voice, making you shiver. Your nod is almost discernable, but the growing smirk indicates he saw it. He’s got you right where he wants you. A finger trails down your neck, before his hand lightly grasps your throat. “Use your words.” He gives your throat a light squeeze and cocks his head to the side, waiting.

You shift under his intense, hot gaze and drag the words out, giving him what he wants.

“I missed you,” you choke out, watching as his eyes darken. He leans towards you and licks a hot stripe along the side of your face.

“Dabi!” you whine unhappily. You grimace and try to shift away from him, but his grip on your throat tightens past the point of comfort. In a panic, your hands fly to your throat and tug at his hand. He freezes, no longer tightening his hand, but not letting you go. You feel his cock twitch against you, and your pussy clenches around nothing.

He releases your throat, and you breathe heavily against him, the tension thickening in the heat from the water. In an instant, Dabi surges forward molding his lips against yours in a searing kiss. His scarred skin is pressed firmly against yours, rubbing against you in a way that sets a fire in the pit of your stomach. His hands clutch painfully at your hips, and you can feel the bruises beginning to form.

His lips are warm against yours. Almost too warm. His stapled skin is also hot, practically burning your nerves. One hand squeezes your hips, making you squirm, before trailing up to gently tease your nipple. You thread your hands through his hair, tugging, trying to yank him closer. A groan vibrates through his chest, and pride bubbles up in your blood. 

He harshly pinches your nipple, making you gasp. Dabi takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, all while still tweaking your nipple. His tongue maps out the soft warmth of your mouth, and he rocks his hips into you, letting his cock drag against your skin.

He pulls away to catch his breath, but when he tries to find your lips again, you turn your face away, escaping from his burning mouth.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs against you, letting his head dip down to suck marks along the side of your neck. Your fingers massage his scalp as you try to catch your breath.

“Dabi,” you breathe out, “I… I have somewhere to be.” His fiery lips still against you, and he pulls away from you. His face hardens, lips pressing into a firm line. His head cocks to the side, waiting for you to explain what could be so important to drag you away from him now. You swallow past the lump in your throat, trying not to buckle under the pressure of his attention.

“I’m going to meet my friends at-” you cut yourself off when he bucks his hips harshly into you.

“I finally make it over here, and you wanna leave,” he taunts. You narrow your eyes, feeling the maelstrom of emotions swirling in the air. They’re hot and sharp, crackling unpleasantly and intensely like lighting. You lean forward, pointing a defiant finger into his chest.

“You were supposed to be here earlier.” He rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand and jerking you forward. You stumble into his arms, and he clutches you tightly, attacking your lips with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. The hot water rains down on your skin, adding to the burning sensation deep inside you. His hands snake down to squeeze your ass, and you moan into the kiss.

His hands continue to squeeze and wander your available flesh, letting himself get lost in the noises you make and the way your body opens up for him. Dabi rocks his hips into you, letting his cock rub against your body. 

He traces a hand along the side of your body, letting it slide in between. You squirm as his finger swipes along your pussy lips. As if burned, you try to shift away, remembering your plans for the evening. But Dabi is intoxicating, and he pulls you down into dizzying dark depths.

“My friends...” you mumble against him, knowing you’ve already lost the battle. A disappointed noise rumbles through his chest, and he gently pinches your clit, making your hips cant against him.

“Not tonight,” he whines, pressing burning kisses into the side of your face. “Not when this pussy’s so wet for me.” He pushes one of his fingers into you, thumb rubbing harsh circles on your clit. Your hips cant against him, and you whine as he bites into the juncture of your shoulder. You rock against him, trying to push yourself towards the ledge he wants you to fall over, but Dabi laughs at your feeble attempts.

“You want more?” he murmurs into your ear. You nod, hands tugging at his hair. He pushes in a second finger and pumps them into you harshly. You moan trying to pull him back so you can kiss him. He chuckles and easily shakes himself out of your grasp. “What do you want? Use your words,” he teases. You whine, letting your hips buck against him.

At your lack of response, his thumb digs harshly into your clit, making you cry out. “I said use your words.” His tone is sharp against your ears, and you shudder. You narrow your eyes petulantly at him, and he scowls. When he realizes you’re not going to give in so easily, he rips his hand away from your needy cunt. You let out a cry of frustration at the emptiness inside you and weakly try to grab his wrist. He yanks his hand out of your grasp and turns off the water.

“Dabi, wait!” you cry out, but he’s already stepping out of the shower. He turns around to look at you, face impassable. He blinks at you slowly, waiting. The cold air plucks at your skin, goosebumps forming everywhere. Your music plays quietly in the background, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

“I wanted you to kiss me,” you whisper. He doesn’t move, letting your words hang heavy in the air. You squirm under his intense gaze, and a cruel smile spreads on his face.

“I know.”

Dabi surges forward, cupping your face with his rough hands, and he kisses you harshly. You stumble, but he braces you with his body. His piercings and staples scrape across your skin, and he drags you forward out of the shower. His teeth clash against yours, and he spreads his palm out behind your head, holding you in place.

Your nails scrape across his chest and he groans against you. Dabi breaks away from you, leaving small nips against your neck.

“Say it again,” he whispers into your neck, voice softer than normal. You furrow your brows, head tilting to give him better access to your neck. Dabi’s normally so harsh, unbridled fury wrapped up in lean muscle and patchwork skin. But there’s something different in his voice. Not necessarily soft, but different. It’s hot and sticky and echoes through your brain.

“That I wanted you to kiss me?” you ask, confusion coloring your words. He shakes his head, hands trailing back down to your hips, squeezing the flesh there.

“That you missed me.”

Oh.

The hot, syrupiness that you heard in Dabi’s voice flows through your veins now, making your mind slow like honey. You hum in contentment, his words bouncing around your brain. You weave your hands back into his hair, holding him close to you.

“I missed you, Dabi.” His nips transition to kisses, and makes his way up your neck to your jaw.

“Again.”

“I missed you, Dabi.” He licks a hot stripe along your jaw, making you squirm. His grip tightens uncomfortably on your waist.

“Again.”

“I missed you so much, Dabi!” A bruising kiss sears itself to your lips, and you moan. You’re dragged from the bathroom to the cold comfort of your bed. He’s on you instantly, fingers buried inside your wet cunt, pushing you to the release he had denied you earlier. His touch and kisses leave you burning, reeling, but craving more.

He’s insatiable, and far too much to handle, and is most likely going to leave your burning and broken, but you don’t care. You missed him, after all.

[starlightrows]

The Perfect Day

Pairing: Paz Viszla x reader

Word Count: 2k

Tags: Dangerously high levels of fluff!

Summary: Paz goes out of the way to make your birthday special!

AN: Second time posting this, the original got deleted by mistake! This was created to celebrate my birthday! Loosely inspired by @maybege soulmate!paz!

Your nose twitches at the sweet smell of cocoa and coffee as you begin the pull towards wakefulness. The heavy blankets and duvet that keep you warm is being pulled back, and you can feel gentle breath being puffed onto your cheeks. He places gentle pressure on your forehead, again on your temple trailing down to the apple of your cheek to the tip of your nose. By the time he reaches your lips you can’t contain your sleepy smile. His laugh is deep and hearty between gentle kisses, coaxing you into opening your eyes.

“Good morning birthday girl,” he smiles. You squeeze your eyes shut and push your face up to his to nuzzle your nose against his, feeling extra cuddly from his wake up kisses.

“Good morning,” you reply

“Made you breakfast,” he says, you open your eyes and sit up with him.

“Oh! Thank you honey,” He brings a bread tray forward, loaded with a massive plate of what you correctly assume to be savory waffles, a bowl of fruit, and two cups of coffee. He sits on the bed cross legged in front of you, placing the tray between you.

You excitedly dig, enjoying the crispy exterior of the waffles and rich chocolate laced into the coffee. He sits back enjoying his coffee, and the fruits of his labor.

“Paz, there is so much of this. How early did you get up to pull all this off?” You ask, because even with both of you eating there is a lot of food.

“Not as early as you think, this is turning out to be more of a birthday brunch than a breakfast” he smiles sheepishly. You glance at the clock on his dresser. He’s right, it’s a quarter past 11. He let you sleep in well past your normal lazy day wake up time.

“I figured if I was going to make your favorite breakfast anyway, I might as well make a lot so we can save some for the next few days,” he explains

You can’t help but smile, it was a thoughtful gesture, but if he didn’t put them away soon you’d sit there and eat the whole platter full!

When the bunch was finished, you helped him take the dishes downstairs, despite his protests.

“It’s your day love, is there anything you’d like to do?” He asks while washing the utensils you’d used to eat.

“Well with all the fresh snow on the ground, I was thinking we could pull out the snow shoes and do a hike. We could try the lookout loop again,” you reply, peeking out the massive front window at the snowy driveway and dense forest just outside the cabin. While the ground may be covered in a thick blanket of snow, the sky is free of heavy cloud cover “it’s pretty clear out today, hopefully we’ll be able to see the valley this time,”

“Yeah, sounds great. I can pack the hiking bag if you want to go pull the snow shoes out from the equipment closet,” he tosses a tea towel over his shoulder. You nod and slammer off to find the snow shoes.

Half an hour later, you and Paz are sitting on the bench under the covered back porch wearing snow pants, lightweight thermal jackets, beanies and gloves; strapping the snowshoe attachments to your heavy snow boots. Paz carries the big hiking bag that houses your emergency supplies and water for the wintertime hike, while you carry the smaller bag that has snacks and a blanket for the look out point.

He gives you a hand up, and lets you lead the way to start out the hike. You’d done this hike together many times before, once you started moving you almost didn’t need to think about it. He fell in step just behind you and the two of you shared easy, fun conversation as you hiked the familiar path up the mountain. Air was still and cold, but you felt amazing, kept warm by your insulating layers and the movement of your body. This hike was beautiful as it is in the summer months, but winter was its own kind of beauty.

The last mile or so to reach the lookout point was the hardest part, Paz’s long strides made it somewhat easier for him and you laughed as he passed you on the uphill climb. Just like he always did. He welcomed you at the top with a gentle hand, leading you to the lookout point. This place was special to the two of you. You’d come up here dozens of times together, he’d proposed to you on this spot, and a year later you’d gotten married at the top of this mountain.

“You were right,” he said, directing your attention out over the valley. It was pristine and perfect. The valley was like a bowl, fully surrounded on all sides by steep snow capped mountains. The lake in the center was a deep dark inky black, without so much as a ripple on the water. The lack of breeze in the chilled air made everything still. It was absolutely gorgeous and exactly what you had been hoping for.

Paz helped ease the pack off your back, and fished the blanket out from the bottom. He did his best to dust off one of the massive boulders you often sat on when coming up here, and spread the blanket out over it.

You sat together on the blanket enjoying crisp apples, sour gummy worms, salty jerky and of course passing a thermos full of cocoa back and forth. The only acceptable lunch for a day hike you claimed.

Before long you and Paz packed up your blanket and small amount of trash back into the bag, and triple checked to make sure everything was just the way you had found it. Together you set off back down the mountain, leading for home.

As the two of you neared the edge of the forest, Paz reached out and snagged your arm.

“Shhh, look!” He whispered pointing through the trees towards the cabin. You followed his gaze and the direction of his finger. Your eyes went wide, and your jaw slacked in elated shock.

Through the trees you could see it, a massive bull moose, leisurely strolling through your backyard about 30 yards away from where you and Paz stood. You had to cover your mouth to suppress your giddiness. Moose are your favorite animal, and one of the more rare animals to see on this side of the mountain. This was the biggest one you’d ever seen, and certainly the closest you’d ever been to one.

Of course you were well aware of how dangerous they are, so being protected from its view by the trees at this comfortable distance was the best and safest scenario for you. But this was also the coolest, most exciting thing that had ever happened to you! Eventually the Moose trotted along and disappeared into the trees on the opposite side of the property. You shared a look with Paz.

“Oh my god! That was a little intense,” you said following him towards the house

“I know. I’ve never seen one that close in my life. I almost wish we’d had a camera,” he replied.

You sat together on the back porch once more, removing your snowshoes, and kicking the remaining snow off the bottom of your boots. Once inside both of you stripped out of your snow pants and coats, leaving you in base layers and socks. You hung up the heavy gear in the entryway closet, and collected the extra bits that could go in the wash like socks.

Paz approaches you leaned down a bit and kissed the top of your head.

“If you let me rinse off real quick, you can take a bath while I work on dinner,” he offers

You hum at the attention of his kisses, “How can I say no to that. Its a deal babe,”

True to his word, Paz jumps in for a very quick shower just to get the sweat off of his body. He emerges from the bathroom with wet hair and warm skin. He gives you one more lingering kiss before letting you run off to draw a fancy bath for yourself.

Meanwhile he busies himself in the kitchen to make sure he’s got enough time to finish dinner, that he had secretly already started that morning, as well as the dessert he had planned.

By the time you’re coming back downstairs looking very cozy in an oversized knit sweater and leggings, dinner is on the table and dessert is just going into the oven. The table is set for the two of you with your favorite meal, and a nice candle in the middle. You sidle up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“This is so romantic, you did all this for me?” You gaze lovingly at the beautiful dinner awaiting you.

“Of course,” he wraps his arms around you too, giving you a loving squeeze. He pulls away, and invites you to sit. The food is delicious, perfectly cooked just the way you like it. As you finish a timer goes off back in the kitchen.

You look past him into the kitchen, then turn your eyes back to him. “Paz?”

He grins mischievously, and gets up to pull dessert from the oven. It’s a small chocolate cake, and from the looks of it he’s attempted to make a lava cake with a gooey fudgy center. He turns it out onto a dish, and pulls the mold up and off it. He looks rather proud of himself. He sticks a single delicate white candle in the middle and deftly lights it. He sits it down in front of you with the warmest most genuine smile.

“Happy birthday baby,” he says “Don’t forget to make a wish,”

You giggle and give him a gentle smile, “I don’t know what more I could possibly wish for,” He grins at you. You do know what to wish for. You wish to be this happy every day. To feel this loved and cherished every moment for the rest of your days. You wish he would feel the same love and devotion coming from you. And you blow out the candle.

He produces two spoons and you share the dessert, finding its rich spongey cake to be without a shadow of a doubt the best dessert you’ve ever had. And you make sure to tell him that.

“I must be the most spoiled woman in the world. Breakfast, dinner and dessert! Will you at least let me help you do the dishes?” You ask when the plate has been all but licked clean of his chocolatey confection.

“Not a chance. You’re gonna go pick a movie,” he tells you, taking the plates into the kitchen to be washed. You laugh and shake your head, but acquiesce.

He joins you in the living room, and tumbles onto the couch pulling you on top of him to snuggle. In the end you choose an old favorite movie of yours, one that still makes you laugh despite the obviously terrible jokes. You’re half heartedly paying attention, more just basking in the warmth of Paz���s chest and the nostalgia of the film. Paz is not paying attention to the movie at all. He’s stroking your hair, and memorizing every detail of your face looking so blissful and content. Despite having been married for two years now, and together for two more, he could still spend an eternity studying your face and find something new or cute or amusing.

Your gaze drifted up to meet Paz, and your smile seemed to melt into a wider sleepier smile as you exhaled deeply.

“Good birthday?” He asks

“Mhm...” you nod “Perfect,”

[helaintoloki]

The Overlook Hotel

pairing: Dan Torrance x reader

warnings: language, some graphic imagery, possessed Dan, slight angst, fluff, about 2k in length

notes: I’ve wanted to write a Doctor Sleep piece for so long but was always hesitant because I knew my audience would be small. But what’s the point of writing anything if it’s only for the amount of notes you’ll get? anyway, this was created with components from the book, movie, and my own imagination. In the book Dan is legitimately Abra’s uncle by blood, but for this I thought it would be interesting if the reader was Abra’s mother and Dan was her estranged father. A lot of this is up for your interpretation so have some fun with it and enjoy! :)

The watchful presence of the spirits that reside in the hallways of the decaying hotel is the first sensation to strike you. A chill runs deep in your bones accompanied by the knowledge that you are not entirely alone in the Overlook. The musty smell of old wood and grimey carpets mixed with your own anxiety make you sick to your stomach, but you swallow down both your fear and the bile inching its way up your throat for Abra’s sake. You must get her somewhere safe, you must guard her with your life, and you must fulfill your promise to Dan.

You can understand now why little Danny Torrance had his apprehensions about this place. With its winding, disorienting hallways that never seem to go anywhere important and the lost souls that linger about

(“Great party, isn’t it?”)

in search of its new management, the Overlook is the bringer of nightmares and creator of evil. It takes and It destroys only to take and destroy again when It becomes understaffed. Well, you weren’t going to let It take Abra and you certainly wouldn’t let It take Dan. Over your

(his)

dead body.

But it isn’t until the hotel “wakes up” that you realize your lives are in danger. You wouldn’t necessarily say you have the shining because you don’t, just a natural instinct when it comes to your daughter and her father, and from your hiding spot in the hallway

(Both Dan and Abra refused to have you out there with Rose present. Stay close but stay hidden, that was the plan)

you could sense something was wrong. Abra didn’t have time to explain as she sprinted towards you, and you didn’t question it as she took your hand and guided you along with her. You trusted that your daughter knew what she was doing, and you had to assume this was all part of the plan.

“When I say the word, you two need to run. I’ll come get you both when she’s dead,” Dan had hastily instructed you whilst preparing for the arrival of Rose the Hat. With the axe still gripped tightly in his hands did he give you a hurried, sloppy, desperate kiss that was too rushed to convey just how much he loved you but had a long enough duration to blanket you with a sense of comfort. No matter what happened, you would be okay. That was the mantra you chanted over and over again in your mind as you navigated the maze-like hallways of the hotel.

After stumbling across countless horrifying guests of the Overlook and struggling to access safe passage among the many locked rooms, the two of you finally stumble across a suite with the door cracked slightly ajar: Room 237. Anxious glances are exchanged between Abra and yourself, but there isn’t time for any apprehensions the two of you may have. The room exudes violent energy, that much is certain, but so does the rest of the hotel. Your options are to stay out in the open and face whatever may come your way- and something is coming - or take your chances inside the suite.

“Inside, Abba-Doo,” you instruct calmly, but the frantic nature of the way you gently push her inside reveals your inner turmoil. You pray that Dan has finished Rose the Hat off once and for all, you hope she suffered and you hope her death was agonizingly slow because that bitch messed with your daughter and you will not tolerate such nonsense. Your hatred for the woman could easily be compared to that of Abra’s, her vengeful smile always at the forefront of Dan’s mind. It scared him to know his own daughter, the sweetest little girl he’d ever met, could be so spiteful. It almost reminded him of his father in a sense, and that just made his stomach sink with guilt.

(If Dan had a dollar for every time he’d hoped and prayed to his higher power to make sure Abra hadn’t inherited any of the bad Torrance genes, he could buy the three of you a nice house along the coast of California.)

You shut and lock the door behind you, though you’re not sure what good it will do at keeping the spirits out. They know this place better than either of you do, and they’re probably laughing at your pathetic attempt to protect yourselves right this moment.

“Mom?” Abra calls quietly, voice lilting ever so slightly. Her wide eyes are faced towards the bathroom, body unmoving and skin paling significantly at what sits before her.

You smell it before you see it, the decaying flesh, the mold and mildew collecting not only in the tub itself but on her corpse as well. The sagging skin of her arm leaves brown droplets of water on the bath mat below her as she ploddingly pulls back the shower curtain. It’s her undead smile that makes your knees weak in a way that almost forces your legs out from under you, a smile full of rotten teeth, a smile that conveys her intentions to harm the both of you. Instinctively do your arms wrap around Abra’s shoulders as you pull her close to your trembling form, eyes never once leaving the woman in the tub as she begins to rise from the murky water.

“Abra, if she takes even one step out of that bathtub, I want you to run,” you breathe shakily, glancing around the room for any item you could possibly wield as a weapon. Maybe you should have stopped by the kitchen and grabbed a knife, but there hadn’t been enough time.

“He’s coming,” Abra says suddenly, her muscles tense underneath your fingertips and her eyes tightly shut. “Mom, you have to remember that it’s still Dan. He’s still in there, you can’t forget that.” There are tears in her eyes now, voice trembling as she pleads for you to understand.

“Abra, what are you talking about?” You urge uneasily, but your question is answered by the sounds of shouting coming from down the hallway.

“Where are you, you little pups?! Come out and take your fucking medicine!”

“No.... Not Dan,” you utter helplessly. “Oh god, please not him.”

“Y/N!” He shouts louder now, prompting an unsolicited scream to tumble from your lips. A hand quickly slaps over your mouth to silence yourself but the damage is done. Out in the hallway he grins wickedly, grip on the axe tightening as he limps towards room 237.

“Little pig, little pig, let me in,” Dan taunts menacingly, knocking the wooden end of the axe against the door. His voice is warped, coarse and rough and not his own. Though they come from his lips, those are not his words.

“Abra, get behind me,” you demand hoarsely, coaxing her to act as if you were her shield. She can feel you trembling against her, sense the rapid beating of your heart, and feel the anguish swimming inside of you as if it is her own. You don’t want to lose Dan, not now, not after finding him again years after you’d last met, not when you had just started to rebuild a family together.

The doors slam open so suddenly you nearly trip over your own two feet and land on the dingy couches behind you, Abra following close behind. The figure that stands before you is a shell of the man you love. He flashes a deranged grin your way while limping closer and closer to you both, and his grip on the weapon is so tight his knuckles are almost as white as the milky haze over his right eye. This murderous man is the same man who had held you close in bed just nights before

(“I love you, and I’m never letting you go again.”)

and he’s itching to hack you and Abra to pieces.

“There you are, pups,” he coos with false tenderness. “You bitches have caused me a lot of heartache, dragging me into your bullshit like I’m some kind of a chump!”

“Dan...” You step backward, and he staggers forward.

“You’re just two mouths to feed, two mouths to bitch and complain, two mouths who cost money and time.”

“Danny, please,” you weep, stomach summersaulting as you back into the couch with nowhere left to run.

“Well I’ve had just about enough,” Dan seethes. His shoulders roll back as he begins to raise the axe, and he intends to make you his first victim. “It’s time to take your medicine, y/n. Let’s see if you can handle it-“

“You’re a false face!” Abra blurts, causing Dan to momentarily falter. “You’re not my dad.”

“Who else would I be?” The monster jests with a condescending smile painted across its lips.

“You’re the hotel.”

“Masks off then,” it replies unbothered. “Step aside child, your mother’s about to get what she deserves.”

“Maybe you should think about where you’re standing before you try to hurt us.”

“Abra,” you whimper, hands gripping almost painfully at her shoulders. Tears stream steadily down both of your faces, but her voice is much more relaxed and steadier than yours. “Abra, what are you doing?”

“The body you’re standing in, the face you’re wearing, that’s Dan Torrance. My father.”

“Dan Torrance,” the Overlook cackles mockingly.

“The man who stopped by the boiler room as soon as he got here.” The laughter stops abruptly then at her revelation, and for the first time tonight the Hotel is afraid.

“You little brat,” It seethes before swinging the axe forward. A scream escapes you as you yank your daughter back, but the blade halts its slice midair as the fog over Dan’s mind begins to fade. He falters with a moan, allowing Abra to gently guide the weapon away from endangering you both.

“Abra?” Dan groans, his voice now his own.

“Dan!” You all but cry, immediately throwing yourself into his arms. He wastes no time in pulling you desperately close to his body, his nose buried into your hair and his bloodied hand coming to cradle the back of your head.

“I told you both to run,” Dan scolds gingerly.

“We couldn’t leave you,” Abra admits in a trembling voice only to be pulled into the hug by her father. “Not when we just got you back.”

“My girls,” Dan all but sobs, “I’m so sorry for everything. I could never hurt you, I could never lay a hand on you. You don’t deserve this.”

“All that matters now is that we’re together,” you sniffle, a tearful smile gracing your features as you rest your hands upon his cheeks. “And from now on we always will be.”

Both Dan and Abra understand it’s not that simple, but at the moment neither of them care to voice their concerns. It’s been years since anyone has had a happy moment in this dastardly hotel, and Dan intends to savor this time for all its worth. His father hadn’t been able to escape his inner demons, and he hadn’t been able to protect his family; the Overlook hotel had consumed Jack Torrance.

But it wouldn’t take Dan. Not without a fight.

*note: the gif used above is not mine !

[searchingwardrobes]

The Convenient Groom: 5/13

I know Tuesday is posting day for this story, and I also know that I said I was planning to update Start of Time first. Well . . . let’s just say things didn’t go as planned. It’s been a struggle, that’s all I’ll say. This chapter was even supposed to be twice as long, but I got to a place that felt like a natural chapter ending, and these 24 hundred words had been enough of a struggle, I just said “to hell with it.” It probably would have taken me ANOTHER week and a half to get 2k more of this, so I just decided to go ahead and update and just increase the chapter count.

Having said all of that, it was really fun writing Emma and Killian’s dynamic in this, even the awkwardness. I definitely drew on my own experiences in marriage, though whether I’m more like Emma or Killian is up to you to figure out ;) So here we have Emma and Killian their first morning in “their” home as “husband” and “wife”. . .

And shout out to the ladies in the @cssns​ discord chat for their help in this chapter.

Summary: Killian Jones just happens to be there when Emma Swan gets the phone call that changes everything: her fiance is leaving her at the altar. The thing is, it could also mean the end of her career. Convenient that Killian has nothing better to do that day. Convenient that he’s secretly in love with her. Not that Emma has to know that. Written for @spartanguard​ .

Rating: M

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @distant-rose @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite​ @superchocovian​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @vvbooklady1256​ @hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @jennjenn615​ @snidgetsafan​

Emma hadn’t expected to sleep well her first night in a new place, so she was surprised when she blinked her eyes open and stretched to see the sun streaming through the window and the digital clock on the nightstand reading a little past 8 am. It was a bit early for her to wake up naturally without an alarm, but she had slept deeply through the night, and she wasn’t used to such a sunny bedroom. She rolled out of bed, went to the bathroom, and then threw her hair up into a messy bun. She contemplated her options. She felt like a visitor, but if she was going to live here for a year, she had to get over that. What would she do on a normal Sunday morning? Well, first she’d make herself a cup of coffee, so she nodded at her reflection in the mirror as if to psych herself up. For what, she wasn’t sure. She just never liked this feeling of newness, this feeling of trying to insert herself into an already established routine. It reminded her far too much of her childhood.

Well, standing there staring at her own reflection wasn’t going to change anything, so she shuffled out of her room, still not fully awake. A yawn cracked her jaw as she entered the kitchen. It was empty. The entire living area was empty, too. The couch looked like it hadn’t even been slept on. She sighed with relief as she filled the coffee pot with water. Maybe he’d gone into his shop or made a quick trip to the store for something they were low on. Whatever the reason for the empty house, it put her at ease.

She was just pouring her coffee when the back door flew open, and a flash of gold fur came flying towards her accompanied by loud barking. She yelped and almost spilled her coffee as a golden retriever shoved his nose into her thigh and licked at her elbow.

“You have a . . . “ but her voice trailed off as she looked up and saw Killian standing in the doorway. Shirtless. She knew her mouth fell open at the sight of him. It was all that chest hair for one, plus the perspiration that glistened on his skin. The June sun had bronzed him, and his chest heaved with every breath he took. His hair was a mess and slightly damp with sweat. The last shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was. Emma shook her head to dislodge the thought stuck inside. “A dog. You have a dog?”

Killian winced. “Guess I should have mentioned that, huh? Are you allergic?”

“No . . . “ Emma trailed off, awkwardly patting the golden retriever’s head. “I’ve just never had a pet, that’s all.”

The dog shook his head and then licked her hand, his tail wagging. Emma couldn’t hold back her grimace as she wiped the slobber off onto her shorts.

“Smee!” Killian scolded. He grabbed the dog by the collar and pulled him to his side. “Sit!”

The dog obediently plopped onto his haunches, though his tail beat an excited rhythm on the floor as he continued to watch Emma.

“Smee? As in Peter Pan?”

“Aye,” Killian answered as he got down on his knee beside the dog and began to scratch behind his ears. The dog’s eyes slid closed with obvious pleasure. “He’s my first mate. Aren’t you, boy?”

Emma smiled despite herself. As long as Killian took care of the dog and cleaned up after him, she figured it would be okay. He obviously kept the place spotless. Plus, what was she going to do, demand he get rid of a dog he clearly adored for the sake of their temporary, fake marriage?

Killian stood and retrieved a dog bowl from the kitchen’s tiny pantry. He scooped some dry dog food out of a plastic bin under the sink, then set it down by the back door for the dog, who was already slurping water out of a matching dish. She’d somehow missed the bowl and the mat it rested upon. Snoopy was emblazoned across it, the cartoon character’s nose in a dog dish and the word “Suppertime!” printed in cheery letters.

“Nice dog mat.”

Killian chuckled and scratched behind his ear. “Um, that was a gift from Anna last Christmas. She thought it was funny.”

“I see,” Emma nodded, taking another sip of her coffee and trying to look anywhere but at his abs.

“Um . . . so . . . if it’s okay, I was going to shower -”

“Oh, well . . . yeah. That's fine, just . . . could I change real quick first? I was going to get a run in, too.”

“Sure,” he told her with a nod.

Emma set her coffee mug down on the counter and headed for the bedroom. How long would it be this awkward? She fished a pair of Under Armour shorts with a sports bra to match from the suitcase that she had slid under the bed the night before. She’d packed extra clothes, thank God, knowing that they wouldn’t feel like unpacking right away. They, as in she and Walsh. She was supposed to be waking up in that yellow bungalow with Walsh. She pushed the thought from her mind as she pulled the sports bra over her head, grunting like she always did as she started to maneuver the tight fabric over her boobs - never an easy task. She flushed as she imagined the possibility of Killian walking in on her accidentally. One boob stuffed into spandex while the other hung free, her arms twisted in bra straps wasn’t the way she wanted him to see her in a state of undress.

Not that she wanted him to see her undressed. It was just inevitable, right? Living together in this tiny house for an entire year?

Or maybe she’d watched too many rom-coms.

When she returned to the kitchen, Killian was leaning against the counter guzzling a bottle of water. He was still shirtless.

What did he think this was? A photo shoot for GQ? The words “put a damn shirt on” were on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them back. She ignored him and reached around him to retrieve an empty water bottle from the cabinet he’d shown her yesterday. As she did, she glanced in the sink and saw her coffee mug empty, washed, and upside down on the drying rack.

“You threw out my coffee?”

He blinked as he swallowed more of his water. “Aye, it was left out on the counter.”

“I wasn’t finished with it!”

“You said you were going for a run!”

“So?”

“So, it would have been cold. Unless you plan on drinking coffee while running.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I know both those things. I would have warmed it up in the microwave later.”

He wrinkled his nose. “That’s disgusting.”

Emma narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, not to me, so in the future could you please leave my coffee alone?”

His brows rose. “And just how long is your coffee off limits? Until lunch? All day? Until mold starts to grow?”

“Until I say so!” she snapped and whirled away from him and his stupid neat freak tendencies and his stupid animated eybrows and stupid blue eyes and stupid sexy chest hair. She practically stomped over to her treadmill, not caring that she was being slightly immature.

“You’re running there?”

Emma groaned. “So you’re not only a coffee expert, but a running expert too?”

He sauntered over - still no shirt - and inclined his head out the window before them. “I just don’t see why you would use that contraption when you’ve got this gorgeous beach.”

She gritted her teeth as she punched in the settings for her run. “Sand is bad for your ankles and knees.”

“Not if you run right at the water’s edge.”

The machine started her warm up, and Emma began to jog. “Then my shoes get wet.”

Killian leaned against the handrail of her treadmill and gave her his stupidly cocky grin. “What’s wrong with getting a little wet?”

Then his stupid tongue darted across his lips. Emma jerked her gaze away as she hit her stride. She refused to react to his innuendo. He pushed away from the treadmill and began to walk away, but then he threw one last comment over his shoulder.

“I bet I’ll get you running on that beach before long, Swan.”

“Doubtful,” she bit out.

Stupid, stupid man.

**********************************************

Killian drew his arm back then tossed the stick across the beach. Smee barked happily as he chased after it. Killian sighed as he watched the dog chase the stick, reviewing his argument with Emma in his head once again.

He was a neat freak, he knew this about himself. He and Milah had even gotten into arguments because of it. Why did he have to make a federal case out of Emma’s coffee? Washing out the mug was something he had honestly done on autopilot. Too many years of living alone, he supposed. When Emma brought it up, he should have apologized, but he was also a stubborn man. Something about that flash of anger in her eyes riled him up, and honestly, seeing her so vexed at him had been a major turn on. Fighting over coffee felt so domestic, like something a real married couple would do.

So he’d picked a fight. Picked a fight and then audaciously flirted, knowing it would get her hackles up all the more.

Smee was back with the stick, and Killian took it and praised the dog. Smee began to jump around eagerly and bark, clearly not finished with the game, so Killian threw it again.

After he’d gotten out of the shower, trimmed his beard, and dressed, he’d gone back out into the kitchen to make amends with her. Emma, however, had breezed past him saying she needed a shower, too. She’d left a second cup of coffee on the countertop, but he wasn’t foolish enough to spar with her a second time. She’d also left a dirty plate covered in toast crumbs on the kitchen table and a knife smeared with jelly balanced on the edge of the sink. Why did people do that? Kristoff did the same thing, and it was driving Liam insane. “Just in case I want another sandwich” - that had been Kristoff’s explanation. Killian wondered what Emma’s excuse was. He’d steered clear of her coffee, as she’d requested, but he’d cleaned the plate and knife. He’d tried to sit down with his own coffee and a book, but it felt as if the running water of Emma’s shower was echoing through the house. He had to get out.

He usually enjoyed Sundays, but today the hours of leisure stretched ahead of him filled with him and Emma awkwardly dancing around one another.

After Smee retrieved the stick, something distracted him, and he swerved to Killian’s left. The dog dropped the stick and started to bark happily. Killian turned to see what had him so excited. Emma was coming down the steps of the back porch.

She was dressed in navy shorts and a white peasant blouse. Her hair was plaited loosely over one shoulder, and the wind blew strands of it becomingly across her face. She would be the picture of weekend relaxation if not for the tense way she hugged her arms across her middle or the slight hunch of her shoulders. She ignored the dog bouncing around her for attention, and came to an abrupt stop at the end of the crushed seashell path. He jogged across the dunes towards her.

“What’s this doing here?” she asked once he was within earshot. Her eyes had gone wide, her lips rigid, as she pointed at the arch just above her head.

“Well,” he answered, shoving both hands in the pockets of his shorts, “your people had it brought over with everything else. I guess this is where they were told to put it.”

He bit back his temptation to give the word “people” sarcastic bite. Emma groaned and rubbed at her temple.

“I forgot. You’re right, I told them to put it in our backyard.”

Killian nodded as he rocked back on his heels. “You just didn’t expect it to be this back yard.”

Emma actually winced and looked apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Killian. I just snapped your head off for something that isn’t even your fault. It’s just seeing this arbor -”

“No need to explain,” he quickly cut in. As much as she drove him crazy at times, and was even downright rude, he had to remember that her world had been thrown completely off kilter. None of this was easy.

Her shoulders finally relaxed, and she gave him a tentative smile. She tilted her head up to look at the wedding arbor, then she rested her hand gently upon one of the swans he had painstakingly carved.

“It’s so beautiful,” she told him softly. Her hand stilled, and she turned to look him directly in the eye. “I never thanked you for the time you spent on this.”

He stepped closer, resting his hand opposite hers and leaning forward. “It was my pleasure.”

She ducked her head and fiddled with her braid for a moment before lifting her gaze confidently to him once again. “I came out here to ask what you were doing for lunch.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, I hadn’t given it much thought.”

“Well,” she said, shuffling her feet back and forth, “I was making myself a sandwich with the stuff left over from the honeym - from the trip - and I thought you might be hungry too, so . . . “ She blew a strand of hair out of her face with a slight grunt of annoyance. “Look, I can’t cook much besides scrambled eggs and pancakes, but I do know how to slap a sandwich together. It’s on the back porch if you want it.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and headed straight back from whence she came, Smee bounding behind her. Killian shook his head, feeling like he almost had whiplash from the mercurial Emma Swan. She was as mysterious as the sea - still as glass one moment and volatile the next.

And God help him, he loved the ride.