#Custom Stove covers

[festivefithome]

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[diamondcertified]

Fireplace Door Installation is a significant aspect to cover the fireplace area

Fireplace doors are quite significant aspects and those specific doors are required to save our homes from a sudden fire outbreak. The set of doors is installed to maintain safety around a fireplace. One can install the doors in front of a fireplace. Installing a fireplace in the home has both functional and aesthetic purposes. Most of the fireplaces in the household are made of glass panels and metal surrounds. Doors that are installed on the front part of existing open fireplaces are often known as ‘glass fireplace doors’.

Significance of Fireplace Door Installation

Black metal surrounded by glass panels is the most common design for traditional-style fireplace doors. The transparent glass makes the inside part of the fireplace viewable if the doors are closed too. It gives a fireplace a very stylish look by making the features user-friendly too. The appearance remains very attractive even if a fireplace isn’t in use too.

Variable sizes are available

The shape and size of a fireplace depend on the existing space of a home. The form of the Open hearth is also variable according to the home structure. Fireplace doors will be fixed perfectly in the opening part of a specific fireplace. Sometimes the doors can also be purchased according to their standard sizes. A wide range of fireplaces exists in the market, but people need to pick the right one according to their interior design and space.

Usually, we have observed that a fireplace door is included with two doors. Sometimes, bi-fold doors also exist there which are folded to the sides.

Fireplaces without doors

Many doorless brickwork fireplaces exist in the properties and they are available at the front part structure of the fireplace. This kind of fireplace doesn’t have doors installed.

The idea for Door Installation

People have different types of requirements for stylish fireplace doors. A nice-looking and well-designed wooden door makes the room's atmosphere very attractive. Mostly, they want to cover their fireplace. Fireplace door installation is an excellent decision for them but if they don’t require the door, they don’t need to install it. People usually add fireplace doors to their fireplaces for multiple reasons. Some people want to cover the fireplace and some want to embellish the atmosphere with an exclusively designed door. So, every person is welcome with his fireplace decoration strategy and idea.

Fireplace door installation deals with safety features. One can get assistance to install doors by receiving professional help. Professional installers serve people excellently by ensuring the best service quality and suggesting the best design for house owners.

[bunny-jpeg]

bunny love hiiiii, since i’ve been beyond satisfied with my last order at your bakery i’ve come again with more ! How about a chocolate cake with s’more and make in “on the house “ with SIR lewis hamilton

xx

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? then check out the menu! i'm always baking up smiles! as for this return customer, thank you, thank you, thank you for coming back! also mister lewis using that accent for evil, tsk, tsk, tsk. i hope you enjoy the fic!

chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + s'mores ("The accent gets to you, doesn't it?) + on the house: champagne (sugar daddy au) served by lewis hamilton

cw: smut/pwp, (slight) sugar daddy au, former mechanic!reader, cowgirl position, (slight) praise kink, couch sex

lewis knew he liked you the moment you got into his face, wagging a finger at him and said the words,

"if you fuck up my car again, hamilton. i will have your head!"

it had been a long time since someone was willing to bite back to sir lewis hamilton. the top dog of formula one, but there you were in greasy coveralls, your hair a mess and a look on your face that could kill. lewis knew he had to have you.

that felt like a long time ago, you had gone from mechanic to live-in girlfriend. you still worked, but at a local shop near where you two lived. when he said that you didn't need to work, you held your head high and told him you didn't want a large gap in your resume.

"i'm not your live in housekeeper." and you were determined to cover the cost of the streaming services you paid for, your own clothes and snacks on times off. he admired that, even though your wage as a small time mechanic couldn't cover close to the cost of the place you lived, you were stubborn enough to want to contribute something.

that didn't mean lewis didn't spoil you. when he washed the grease off your face and put you into something nicer you looked like the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

even the little scars along your arms from years of tinkering with cars, even the scar on your chin for an accident in your youth was cute enough for him to want to kiss.

he had come home for the summer break in the season, riding off the high of a successful weekend. he couldn't wait to get home to his girl. when he got through the door of the house you shared, he could smell something cooking on the stove.

with his bags by the door, he slipped his shoes off and padded through the house. he followed the scent of cooking meat.

your voice called to him, "i'm in here!" and he found you in front of the stove, checking on the noodles you were cooking.

he broke into a smile at the sight of you, "how very housewife of you." as he slotted himself behind you and wrapped his arms around you. chest pressed against your back, almost putting a little too much of his weight against you.

you tilted your head back to look up at him, "don't worry, you can do dishes." then kissed his chin. you two still were snarky at one another, but it was all wrapped in a deep affection for one another.

he chuckled, "of course, my love." he said as he leaned in further to kiss you on the cheek. he remained close to you while you put together lunch.

despite all the wealth and glory from formula one. it was nice to sit across from you and eat an easy to prepare meal. pasta sauce with ground beef and noodles with parmesan cheese. comfort after a long time apart.

it was domestic, even though the house you two lived in was beyond wealthy. you wanted to give what you could in your own way. lewis could drip you in diamonds and finer fabrics, but he'll always crumble to his knees for his favourite mechanic and her home cooked meals.

lewis one jokingly said that he was your sugar daddy when you moved in with him. the next day you got the job you had now. maybe there was a slight sugar daddy aspect to it, but he appreciated that you helped where you could. he didn't need any "sugar" from you, you were rather unimpressed when he waved any kind of money around. so maybe he did suck at being a sugar daddy in a way, but he always let you know that if you got tired of working. he was more than happy to support his little mechanic.

"and what happens when i get old?" you asked when he brought it up.

"then i'll be old too." he winked at you.

with dinner finished, you talked with lewis while he cleaned the dishes. you admired his backside while he got the plates into the dishwasher and rinsed out the pot used to boil the pasta.

when that was all finished, you got up to grab the bottle of wine from the fridge and two glasses. but as you were bent over to grab the bottle, you heard your lover's voice.

"do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day." he asked as he brushed up against your behind, those strong arms around you, his voice in your ear. you squirmed a little and he chuckled, "the accent still gets to you, doesn't it?"

you admired one time over drinks that you found his accent was one of the more attractive things about him. when he asked what was his least attractive quality you replied that it was messing up your cars. but the fact that you found his accent appealing stuck to the corner of his brain.

you closed the fridge door, with no wine in your hand. you turned in his arms and draped your arms over his shoulders. you pulled him for a kiss. after a moment you pulled away and asked, "i guess you want dessert more than wine."

he chuckled, "well, i wouldn't call you dessert. i'd call you the whole meal." his head dipped down to your neck and kissed across your skin as you held him.

this eventually led to the both of you on the couch, you looked at the television screen briefly and chuckled, "reliving your glory days, hamilton."

his lips crossed your cheeks once more then replied, "well, they're only my glory days because you were there." you stepped away from formula one and to a smaller shop because you didn't want a conflict on interest within the team or if lewis left the team.

in all fairness it felt nicer tinkering with mini vans and having a few days rather than a car that can go over 300mph with a few seconds of time to work on it.

"is this your weird way to seduce me to come with your to ferrari?" you asked as you watch him sit down. he was dressed in sweatpants and a black t-shirt now, wanting to get comfortable at home. you had your hands on your hips and you looked very sexy.

"of course not, but if you did." he shrugged, "i'd put in a good word for you."

you pulled off your tank top and shimmied out of your own sweatpants. you got in your lover's lap and kissed at his jaw, your hands buried in the t-shirt he wore. you said against his warmed skin, "right, right. i think you just liked it when i gave you shit all the time."

he chuckled, "no one does it like you, my love."

you said "true." and pulled at his t-shirt until he got off. soon you two were undressed, in nothing but socks and you straddling your lover's waist. your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you looked down at him, "how much did you miss me?"

"do you want the nice version or the true version?"

you held his jaw for a moment and dipped into a kiss before you responded, "give it to straight, hamilton."

"i hoped you were watching every race, and then every night i went back to my hotel. and i jerked off to photos of you." he responded, "i think i need to take some new ones. i don't even think you have those panties anymore."

you replied, "if they're the pair i'm thinking, it's because you tore them off of me after monaco. you couldn't wait and we did it in the care. i had to pray on the walk to the hotel room that no one would notice i wasn't wearing underwear."

he chuckled, "well." he guided you onto his cock and kissed at your pulse-point. he relaxed against you as he wrapped his arms around you. it was almost a protective feeling being held by him.

slowly you sank down on his cock and gripped onto his shoulders. you felt pleasure lick at your gut as you took all of him. the noise you made was erotic and made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

you two hotly made out with one another as the two of you moved against one another. you panted heavily between kisses, his soft lips against yours made a thrill run up you.

you were so cute, to sweet to him. you rolled your hips up and down, you felt the heat in your cheeks are you rode him. like you had done a million other times.

he held onto you and kissed at your shoulders. he groaned against you and basked in your warmth. the entire time felt hot, he finally got to touch and feel his perfect little mechanic.

"you feel good like this." he panted, "so good on top of me."

"just as i like it." you giggled, "i know you like looking at my body. i know i turn you on." you leaned in once more and said, "and, truthfully lewis, you turn me on too."

"i guess we're a perfect match then." he said before he pulled you into a hot kiss. his hands were placed on your hips once more and pushed his cock as deep as he could inside of you.

his entire body felt like a live wire, like when he raced, being intimate with you meant the world to him.

the clips continued to play and neither of you paid much attention to it. too wrapped up in one another to really care about much else.

"my little mechanic."

"my pain in the ass driver."

you came first, followed by him. you held onto him while he held onto you. your lips pressed together as you moved against him. you melted under his tough and felt amazing as the pleasure hit you like a wave.

"holy shit." you panted.

"i know." he said as he watched you continue to move your hips. milking you for all he was worth, "relax, love. relax." his voice was warm in your head.

you slowed down your pace and rested against him. your chin on his shoulder as he rubbed your back. he kissed your sweaty temple and his low voice close to you felt so good. the after tremors of orgasmic bliss felt good paired with his sweet praise.

this eventually lad with you two cuddling on the couch. the clips of lewis races played in the background as you two kissed. letting his hands explore your body.

"i wish i could take you to every race. you don't have to be a mechanic, i just want to see you there when i win." his voice was low.

"then win it all for me." you sealed your request with a kiss. you were the mechanic that could stand toe-to-toe with sir lewis hamilton. and while he was the billion dollar driver, with you he was sweeter than candy and more electric than a live wire.

as he kissed you once more, you felt comforted. loved, adored. you'd see if you could get some time off work to be with him after the summer break. if he was going to keep winning, it was only right for you to be there. <3

[vexwerewolf]

Showrooms of LANCER Manufacturers

IPS-N

IPS-N showrooms are what you'd get if you slammed a truck dealership, a hardware store, a camping gear shop and a sports bar together in the Bass Pro Shops Pyramid. We're talking row upon row of shelves stocked with the most precision-engineered engine parts you can print on one side of the floor, and on the other, durable, hard-wearing survival gear. Camping stoves you can run off of your mech's coldcore, sleeping bags that'll survive a HEX charge, automatic camo cloth, the works.

Right down the middle, you've got the mech floor. They've got the Tortuga. They've got the Blackbeard. They've got the Drake. They've got the Lancaster and the Kidd. They've got the Vlad (they put a chain-link fence covered in DO NOT TOUCH signs around that one after the infamous CFO's 10-year-old Incident). They've even got the Raleigh, kinda tucked away a little bit behind the water feature, but it's there!

Everything on the shop floor is ruggedized to the point that you could take a mech's fist to it without leaving a dent - and they sometimes do that to demonstrate the engineering quality. There's a giant screen hanging from the ceiling displaying constant advertising for the mechs and IPS-N in general, usually striding purposefully through idyllic Diasporan wilderness or doing hard, honest work like starship loading or construction. There's a mixtape of the most famous bro-country hits playing 24/7.

Smith-Shimano Corpro

In a word: bespoke. Everything in this place is custom. Each and every desk is individually built according to the height of the salesperson who sits behind it, and manages to be a unique art piece without disrupting the overarching aesthetic of the showroom. Whenever there's a change of staff on the sales floor, they rearrange every single desk so that they're still in ascending order.

All of the salespeople are inhumanly pretty, by the way. This atelier has its own fully-staffed makeup and wardrobe team. You're part of a work of art when you work for SSC. Everything and everyone gleams. Even the most chic visitors might feel underdressed in the midst of all this splendour.

The mechs aren't just there to be sold, they're there to be part of the experience. You might see a Monarch holding up the ceiling like the titan Atlas himself. A Mourning Cloak might be posed provocatively like a nude statue. That Swallowtail - is it in a slightly different position every time you see it, or is that just its camouflage decals? How does it always manage to be just inside your line of sight, even when you're looking somewhere else?

They have a catwalk, like you'd see at a fashion show, but it's sized for mechs. If they really think you might make a purchase, they'll queue up the entire performance for you, and you'll get to see a Viceroy strut.

The mix tape for this showroom is a seamless mixture of complex jazz, psychedelic ambient and classical piano music. It's sophisticated and mysterious.

Harrison Armory

Imagine if America could be a showroom. Harrison Armory mech outlets are part dealership, part museum. Every mech is in its own diorama, depicting some heroic event in the Armory's glorious history. A phalanx of Sherman Mk. Is holds the line against some Diasporan slaver-tyrant's army. A Saladin fends off Karrakin hordes during the Interest War. The Genghis Mk. II? Oh, that diorama isn't open right now, it had to be closed for *coughcoughcough* and *coughcoughcough* but let's move on shall we heh heh

Everyone who works here has been in the Colonial Legion at some point, and knows every specification of the mechs they sell off by heart without even looking at their slate. If possible, the Armory tries to employ people who have actual combat experience with the mechs they're selling; people who can speak to the efficacy of their technology first-hand. It's one of the many programs which the Armory has open for retired veterans; it's easy work for decent pay, good benefits and it looks great on your Social.

The music here is a constant loop of patriotic Armory anthems. If you've ever heard the music from Starship Troopers, or the Outbreak of War from Star Ocean, you'll know what I'm talking about.

HORUS

Being a decentralized omninet collective with no official branding or even consistent manufacturing standards, it should come as no surprise that HORUS has no showrooms.

ERR:CONNECTION_INTERRUPT

CartesianWhisper: P55555t CartesianWhisper: Ignore that 5hithead CartesianWhisper: They don't have any idea what they're talking about CartesianWhisper: You want a mech, kid? CartesianWhisper: And I'm not talking the tra5h the Purv5 try to 5ell you CartesianWhisper: Or that overpriced garbage 55C want5 you to mortgage your genetic5 for CartesianWhisper: Or the macho trucker bull5hit IP5-N i5 trying to hawk CartesianWhisper: I'm talking about the REAL DEAL CartesianWhisper: The PROPER 5TUFF CartesianWhisper: Log on to rgx0582.node-7.c4l.omni CartesianWhisper: I'll 5how you what true power mean5 >:]

[d3add0vedonoteat]

Chicken Soup for Carmy

⚠️ Content Warning ⚠️ harsh language, sexism and violence in one scene (not from Carmy). Hurt/comfort, fluff.

A/N: I’m literally feral for this man. I’m sick atm and I started thinking about taking care of Carmy while I was making chicken soup. Bonus combo with Carmy protecting you from an asshole customer. Not proofread bc my brain is rotting. Plz be nice this is my first time posting a fic 🥺

-

It was cold. You braced yourself against the harsh Chicago wind as you made your way briskly down the street. After a late night phone call from your brother sent you into a spiral, you couldn’t sleep. You’d been tossing and turning all night until finally, at 4am, you flung off the covers and got dressed. It wasn’t a surprise that you’d come here. This place consumed all your mind and your heart since you started working here a few months ago. You used your key to unlock the door in the alley, sighing with relief as the warmth of The Beef welcomed you inside. It was quiet, the lights were down, it was peaceful. You slipped off your sneakers trading in your kitchen clogs and tucked your things safely away in your locker. You tied your handkerchief on your head as you moved. It was so comforting, the routine of The Beef’s prep work. You felt so at home, moving from the prep area to the walk in, diligently beginning the tasks that didn’t need to be started for a few more hours. He would understand. You thought to yourself as you began to prepare fresh stock for the day. He was a man after your own heart, your boss, Carmen Berzatto.

Avoidant, chaotically emotional, one wrong thing away from a complete meltdown, that you both disguised as workaholic tendencies. As you finely chopped onions, your mind quieted. Everything was shut out except for the task at hand. Your brother’s angry voice on the phone accusing you: “you never come home! You don’t even care about us! You can’t take come take care of your own mother?!” was drowned out by the rhythmic pound of your knife on the cutting board. You were in the zone.

Until a voice startled you out of your bubble. “Chef?” You jolted, looking up at the man before you. Carmy’s hair was messier than usual, the bags under his eyes were deeper and more purple. His lips were parted with each soft breath he took. He gave you a quizzical look. “What are you doing here?”

“I uh-” your mouth felt dry and you tripped over your words, as usual when he set those intense blue eyes on you. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Carmy nodded, not pushing you any further. All he said before moving toward the office was a simple: “Heard, Chef.”

You watched him go, noticing the slump of his shoulders and the labor of his normally spry step. There was no mistaking it, Carmen was sick. You stared at the office door for a long moment before you made up your mind.

You set a heavy bottomed pot on the stove with some olive oil. Your hands moved with well practiced efficiency as you chopped garlic and onions, celery and carrots. The garlic and onions went in first. Then the celery. A sprig of thyme and a dash of white wine. While that simmered you quickly seared some chicken breast and chopped it into perfectly bite sized pieces. All into the pot with chicken stock and water, tightly covered to develop the flavors. Next came the pasta. You cracked eggs into the well of flour, mixing and kneading until it became a smooth golden dough. You carefully, tenderly rolled the dough and cut it into thick, short noodles. A bath in hot water to cook, then they too joined the pot. In no time at all, you were ladling a generous portion into a bowl. You set a toasted piece of chibatta on the side, grabbed a spoon, and took a deep breath in an attempt to settle your nerves. Softly, you knocked on the office door.

“Yeah?” His voice responded.

“Chef?” You entered, nervous. Words failing you as they so often did in his presence, you set the bowl before him. Carmy’s eyes widened. The aroma made his mouth water. He looked to you, gaze softening. “You made me chicken soup?”

Your cheeks grew warm. “Y-yeah, I mean chicken soup always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”

Carmy couldn’t believe you. You noticed? He smiled at you. You were so beautiful. You were always so confident and sure on the line, delegating with efficiency, respect, and authority. He had hired you the second you stepped into The Beef. Your resume was impressive but there was something in the way you carried yourself that truly earned the golden reputation you had in the culinary industry. But you were different with him, in the occasional moments like this where it was just you and him. Shy, almost bashful, gentle, and soft. He loved it. He wanted more of it. He lifted the spoon, bringing a bite to his lips.

“Gotta get a little of everything.” You muttered, eagerly awaiting his response.

Carmy shot you a sideways smile. It was good. No, it was better than good. The warm broth slid down his throat and each bite exploded with a depth of flavor he couldn’t believe. It was pure comfort. It reminded him of being a little kid staying home sick from school. Curled up on the couch while Jerry Springer played, eating crackers and ginger ale until his mom would bring a bowl of chicken noodle soup. But this soup, your soup, was more than that. People always talk about cooking with love but he swore he could taste it. Each ingredient had been so carefully handled. Perfectly chopped vegetables, moist and flavorful chicken. The warm feeling in his chest grew as he inspected the bowl.

“Did uh, did you make this pasta fresh?” He asked, eyeing you.

“Yeah, it’s better that way.” You blushed.

“Thank you, chef.” He said. “It’s really, really good.” Carmy looked down, suddenly feeling heavy. The fear of closeness set into him and all he could think about was how he’d fuck this up. “You-you didn’t have to make this for me.”

“Oh, it’s okay!” You insisted. “It was no big deal.” You began to leave, giving him one last truthful smile. “I like taking care of you.”

“I like taking care of you.” Your words rattled through Carmy’s mind all day. Throughout all of lunch, prep, and dinner he couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d said. The soup you had made was the first thing he’d eaten in too long. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for him and you’d just done it because you noticed he wasn’t feeling well. No motive, no games, just tender love and concern.

Love.

Carmy shook his head to try and shake the thought from his mind. No, no, no there was no way you actually cared about him. Not like that. You were just being nice.

That’s just who you are; nice. You were always so kind. The way you’d help Marcus workshop pastries, the way you’d make Tina laugh and listen to her talk about whatever trouble Louis had gotten in, how you’d encourage Sydney and remind her that she can do this. Even the way you’d throw snark right back at Richie or how’d you’d always set aside a portion of Family for Fak and Sugar, even Pete. You were always thinking of others. Carmy wasn’t special.

Yeah. Not special.

Carmy insisted the thought as he scrubbed the grill. Not special. Not special. Not special.

“Carmy?” There you were. You were always there. You had a thick denim jacket on, bag on your shoulder, knit beanie pulled down over your hair. Your brow furrowed at the sight of him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Carmy shook his head. “I’m fine… you uh- you heading out?”

You shrugged, hoisting your bag a little higher on your shoulder and eyeing him skeptically. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah, in a bit.”

You chuckled, more exasperated than humorous. “No.”

“What?” Carmy asked, confused.

“No, you’re leaving too.” You insisted. You were feeling bold. Months of long looks and his hand on your lower back every time he passed you had culminated tonight.

You had taken over the front for Richie while he ducked out to take a call from his daughter. You’d insisted. It was slammed for dinner but everything was going fairly smooth until an irate customer approached you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He’d asked, slamming his plate onto the counter.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean are you retarded or something?” He continued. You were stunned into silence. You had never had anyone speak to you like that. “How hard is it to make a fucking sandwich? I know your tits are bigger than your brain but Jesus fucking Christ it’s not hard!”

“I-I…” you were shaking. “I’m sorry that you’re not satisfied, sir. If you like, we can-”

“Not satisfied?!” He screamed. “How can I be satisfied with this piece of shit!”

He hurled the sandwich at you. It hit you in the chest, toppings and sauce splattering everywhere. Before you even knew what was happening, a blur of messy curls shot past you. Carmy launched over the counter, tackling the man. His fist collided with the man’s face over and over while Richie and Fak rushed after him. There was a cacophony of yells as Richie pulled Carmy back. “Get your girl!” Richie yelled. “Cousin! Go get your girl!”

Fak and Richie dragged the man out and threw him into the street. Carmy’s hands grasped your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” He wiped the sauce splatters from your brow. “Look at me.”

Carmy burned with anger as he watched you shake. Your white shirt and blue apron were covered in the sandwich. He imagined what you would do for him if he was in your position. How you’d care for him, how you’d tend to him… so he tried to do what you would. Gently he guided you to your feet and wrapped his arm around your waist. He practically carried you to his office where he sat you on the couch and quickly went to grab a clean shirt from his own locker. You were in the same place he left you when he returned. Carmy knelt before you, taking your face in his hands once more.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Tears welled in your eyes and you collapsed into his arms. He smoothed his hand over you back, repeating “it’s okay” over and over again. He felt like he was on fire. The feeling of you clinging to him, nuzzling your face into his neck, the smell of you, how you fit in his arms… it was too much. He wanted to run away and never speak to you again. He wanted to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of his life. He wanted to scream. He wanted to feel your lips against his. He wanted to find the piece of shit that yelled at you and rip him to pieces. He wanted your chicken soup every time he was sick.

All those feelings were closing in on Carmy once again as he stared at you across the kitchen. You still had his t shirt on. You were looking at him expectantly.

“Sorry, uh… what did you say?” Carmy’s voice was softer than he expected.

“I said I’ll walk home with you.”

“Oh, no that’s okay. Ive got to-“

“Carmy,” you stepped closer. Your voice was firm but so tender. “You need to get some rest. Come on, I won’t take no for an answer.”

He couldn’t help but smile back at you. “Alright…” he conceded.

The two of you braced yourselves against the cold and hurried down the sidewalk side by side. You argued about who would walk who home. Carmy insisted on walking you to your apartment but you protested on the grounds that he’d just go back to the restaurant once he dropped you off.

“Fine,” you gave in. “But you have to call me when you get to your place so I know you made it home!”

Carmy looked at the ground, smiling. The warmth in his chest from your soup was steadily turning into a molten pool of lava.

“Heard.” He grinned. You wanted to know he’d made it home. You wanted to make sure he rested. I like taking care of you.

“Well, I’m just up here.” Your voice stopped his thoughts from spiraling before it could even start. Carmy’s brow furrowed. “What?” You asked, puzzled by his sudden change in demeanor.

“You live over there?”

“Yeah? Like a block down?”

There was a beat of silence before Carmy let out a breathy laugh. “I live right there.” He pointed to the building on the other side of the street.

“No shit!” You laughed in earnest. Your hand came to rest on his arm. “Guess I’m gonna be walking you home more often.”

Carmy’s entire body was on fire. He could imagine the tingle of your soft hand on his skin through all the layers of clothing. He wanted to hold you close again like in his office, but this time you wouldn’t be crying. A deep pit opened in his stomach. How long before he made you cry? How long before he fucked it all up? Until you hated him and quit the restaurant and everything fell apart because he-

“Hey,” your voice. Always your voice that brought him back. When he looked over at you it was like everything but your face faded into a blurry background. You were all Carmy could see. “Do you want to come to mine? I haven’t eaten and I KNOW you haven’t either.”

Carmy’s heart fluttered. “O-okay.” He started, his confidence rising when he noticed your hand was still in his arm. “Only if you let me cook you something.”

“Ooh,” you smiled. “I’d never turn that down!”

Carmy chuckled, feeling lighter for the first time in years as he walked so close beside you that your shoulders brushed. “It won’t be as good as your chicken soup.”

[kkanabel]

apricity ❃ oneshot

fire spirit!bakugou katsuki x archaeologist!afab!reader / siberian au lmao

words: ~6.6k

directory/m.list

T/W: nsfw, minors dni, yucky at the very end, fingering, porn with plot, overstimulation, size difference, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, alcohol use (not during the yucky but waay before the yucky), bakugou being bakugou, not beta read

Frost clung to the window panes of your cabin as you pulled on the last of your layers—a thick, fur-lined coat with a hood drawn tight around your face and a scarf was wrapped around your nose and mouth. The mornings here were unforgiving, the bite of the wind sharp as knives as soon as you stepped outside. You grabbed the ax by the door, its handle starting to grow familiar in your gloved hands, and pushed the door open into the early morning light. A heavy breath left your mouth in a plume of white as you approached the woodpile, ready to chop enough firewood to keep your small cabin warm for the day.

Frost bites at your cheeks as you swing your ax down on a thick block of firewood as the crisp snap echoed in the cold air. Each heavy breath from you escapes in a foggy plume in the biting winds of Yakutia. The village sits nestled in a wide, snow-covered expanse, tucked into the curve of towering mountains, the sky above streaked in pale blue and white. It’s early morning, but the cold is already unforgiving, gnawing at your layers of fur and wool, testing the warmth of your windproof, insulated pants. 

A brief break in the wind brings a fleeting warmth from the sunlight— the sun’s faint brush over the top half of your face offering relief in the middle of a frozen landscape. You close your eyes for just a moment, savoring it, before returning to your task. The sound of the ax cutting into the wood mixes with the rustle of pine trees in the distance, their branches weighed down by heavy snow.

You swung the ax, splitting a log in two. The dry wood splintered easily, and the sound echoed in the quiet wilderness. The only other noise came from the wind as it howled through the trees, carrying with it the promise of an even colder day. The cold worked its way into your bones despite your many layers. You stayed in cold places before, but the tundra was different. It was a place where even warmth felt fleeting, only offered by a fire or the thick fur you wrapped yourself in.

Satisfied with the pile of wood you’d gathered, you stacked it by the cabin door before retreating inside, the warmth of the hearth greeting you. The fire crackled steadily, casting a golden glow against the dim interior. The gas stove hissed as you lit it, filling the kettle with water for tea. Your stomach growls, reminding you that breakfast is long overdue. 

The crackle of kindling and the warm orange glow spread throughout the small wooden cabin, where you've been staying during your research.

After tossing a few more logs into the fire, you set about making breakfast. It came together simply—creamy and warm fish broth, pancakes, and smoked fish—a meal that filled the small space with a comforting scent. The small palm-sized pancakes were crisp on the edges, their golden brown surface sizzling in the pan. You smile to yourself, remembering a tradition you picked up from other villages. 

As you finish cooking, you toss a pancake into the fire as an offering to whatever spirit might be watching over you. You heard it was a custom in your research. The villagers here don’t seem to do it, but it never hurts to be polite to the unknown.

By the time breakfast was finished, you had your notes spread out across the small wooden table, pencil scratching against the rough paper as you wrote. The village had called on your expertise after reports of strange events: food disappearing from homes, unexplained housefires, and villagers speaking in hushed tones about a spirit causing trouble.

You were already puzzled as to why the villagers would have called on an archaeologist and not an investigator. Your research into the village’s history has led you to strange old scrolls and whispers of a forgotten spirit, but the more time you spend here, the more you realize the villagers are reluctant to speak. The flickering firelight dances along the edge of your notes as you sip on a steaming cup of tea, savoring the warmth that spreads through your chest. 

Ghosts and spirits don’t exist, you reminded yourself. Still, there was something to be said about folklore. It was tied deeply to history, and that was your true interest—the stories behind the stories.

The villagers were tight-lipped, though— your inquiries had been met with vague answers and nervous glances. Today, you planned to spend more time in the village center, talking to whoever would listen. The old man who ran the inn had mentioned something about ancient scrolls kept by a family who had been in the village for generations. Perhaps you could find more information there.

Later, you head out to meet the villagers. Bundling up again, you stepped outside into the snow. The cold was immediate, but you pushed through it, your breath forming thick clouds in front of you as you made your way toward the heart of the village. 

Houses stood small and stoic against the barren landscape, with thick snow blanketing their roofs. Smoke rose lazily from the chimneys, the scent of burning wood hanging in the air. Snow crunches beneath your boots as you walk through the narrow, icy paths, nodding to the occasional passerby. The wind is sharp today, tugging at your fur-lined hood. 

You hunch your shoulders against the cold as you make your way to the center of the village, where a small crowd has gathered. The scent of charred wood hit you before you saw the blackened remains of the structure, now little more than rubble. Your heart skipped. Another fire? The villagers spoke in low murmurs, and as you drew closer, you overheard snippets of conversation about the thief who lived there—a man who had stolen from his neighbors. 

You frowned, remembering a neighbor of yours had told you to stay away from the man who was known to frequent bars and have sticky fingers. The same man used to live in this home that was no more than a pile of charcoal.

You’ve heard the rumors about the “spirit”—they say it punishes those who harm the village, but you’re not convinced. Fires like these happen in dry regions all the time, and it’s not uncommon for Yakutia, even in winter. You jot down a few notes, watching the fire consume the house, the warmth a stark contrast to the frigid air biting at your skin.

Was it possible the spirit the villagers whispered about had been punishing him? Or was it just an unfortunate accident, a result of negligence and the harsh conditions?

You shook your head, noting down the details. The more you learned, the stranger the situation became. It was only when you returned to your cabin that evening, exhausted from talking to the hesitant villagers, that you realized just how strange things had become.

Later that day, you return to your cabin, taking in the familiar creaks of the wooden floor under your boots and the soft flicker of your gas lamp lighting the room. The air inside is only a little warmer than the biting cold outside, but the crackling of the fire in the stove offers some comfort.

You sit at your table, flipping through pages of your notebook. The pencil scratches lightly against the paper as you record observations, every sound amplified in the quiet room. The rhythmic back-and-forth fills the space, a welcome lull amid the chaos of your investigation.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts.

Standing in the doorway is one of the villagers—a man about your age, wrapped in thick furs with snow dusting his shoulders. You’d visited his family home a little while ago to ask about the happenings around the village, but their answers remained vague as all the others.

He’s cradling something in his hands. His breath fogs in the cold air as he shifts his weight, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of curiosity and something warmer. “I found these,” he says, extending his hands toward you. “Thought you might want to take a look.”

In his arms are ancient stone blocks, their surfaces engraved with symbols, faint but intricate. Your eyes widen at the sight. These carvings look similar to what you’ve seen before but older, almost primitive in comparison to the more refined relics you'd encountered earlier.

“Where did you find these?” you ask, stepping closer.

“In my house,” he replies, shrugging as if it’s no big deal. “They were buried under some old planks. Figured they were important.”

You offer him a grateful smile. “Thank you. These could be a huge help.”

He smiles back, a little too long. “I hope so. It’s, uh, the least I could do. The villagers… we don’t really know what’s going on with all this, but I figured you’d be the one to figure it out.”

As a thank-you, you hand him a small bag of food—some dried meats and bread you had stored away. His face lights up, and he nods gratefully before leaving you alone again to examine the stone blocks.

The sun sets quickly in the tundra, and soon, the only light in your cabin comes from the gas lamps and the fire’s low embers. You’re absorbed in studying the runes when a familiar knock sounds at the door again. When you open it, the man stands there once more, his eyes glinting in the soft lamplight. You let him in, not wanting him to stay in the cold for too long.

“I wanted to tell you more,” he says, a little breathless from the cold or perhaps something else. He shifts on his feet, seemingly nervous. “There are stories—whispers, really. The villagers don’t talk about it much, but some say there was once a spirit who protected us. He might’ve even been part of our village, long ago.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And why wouldn’t anyone mention that?”

“They’re ashamed, I think,” he replies, his voice low. “It’s been forgotten over time. No one’s sure what happened, but... there are theories that we abandoned him, and he’s been angry ever since. That’s why the strange things have been happening.”

You nod, processing the information. It feels like a piece of a much larger puzzle, but there’s still so much missing.

As he talks, you notice the way he looks at you—his eyes linger a little too long, his words carrying a soft edge of admiration. He’s clearly interested, but you decide to brush it off for now. You smile politely, pretending not to notice the way his gaze follows you as you walk back to your table. You’ll be leaving the village as soon as you finish the case, so you didn’t want to lead him on.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice firm but kind. “This is really helpful. I’ll look into it.”

The man nods, his shoulders slumping slightly as though he expected more. “Of course,” he says, his voice quieter now. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”

As he leaves, the door shuts with a soft click, and you turn back to the runes, your thoughts swimming with new possibilities. If what he said was true, there’s more to this mystery than the villagers are willing to admit. And now, it seems like the forgotten spirit might hold the key to it all.

A couple days later, as you ice fish by the frozen river, you set your net and lean back, watching the starting to sun dip on the horizon. The quiet stretches around you, broken only by the occasional crack of ice shifting in the distance. You peer down at your catch, noting the modest haul in your net. Then you blink—there, next to your net, are two large whitefish lying in the snow, far too large to have escaped without you noticing.

Confused, you glance around. No one is near. The fish are pristine, untouched by the ice or snow, as if they had been placed there deliberately. You shake your head, chalking it up to luck. Maybe they jumped out when you weren’t paying attention? The reflection in the water catches your eye, and for a fleeting moment, you see the sharp jawline of a handsome man’s face turned towards you as if he were ice fishing with you. You blink again, startled, and the image is gone when a fish swims by and ripples the water—just your own face reflected in the water.

You shake your head. It’s nothing. Maybe I’ve just been single for too long… 

You thought about contacting that man from the other day for just a moment. 

Later that night, after cleaning the fish and preparing a simple dinner of stroganina—raw, thin slices of frozen whitefish—you sit by the fire, letting the warmth soothe your tired muscles. The fish melts on your tongue, rich and buttery, as you sip water to wash it down. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. You chalked it up to exhaustion. After all, nothing had happened that you couldn’t explain away with logic and reason. You even joked to yourself as you drank water, “If only I had some vodka to go with this.”

You took another sip, and suddenly the liquid burned down your throat.

You froze.

This time, there was no logical explanation. You looked down at the cup in your hands, heart pounding in your chest. How had the water changed? You hadn’t touched anything else, but the unmistakable burn of alcohol lingered.

Startled, you stare down at your cup, heart pounding. This—this can’t be explained away. Your mind entertained the thought of a Siberian Jesus Christ. 

The fire crackled behind you, its warmth now somehow menacing. The quiet of the tundra felt heavier, the weight of the mystery pressing down on your chest. This place, this village—it wasn’t just the cold that seeped into your bones. There was something else here. Something old. Something powerful.

The next morning, footsteps in the snow led you away from the village, out into the wilderness. 

The morning air was crisp, each breath leaving a wisp of white in the early sunlight. You bundled yourself tightly against the cold, pulling your fur-lined hood closer around your face. As you stepped outside, you noticed something strange—footprints, fresh in the untouched snow, leading away from your cabin. They hadn’t been there the night before, and curiosity tugged at you.

You followed them, your boots crunching softly against the snow. The air was still, save for the occasional rustling of distant trees swaying under the weight of frost. The path led deeper into the woods, the towering trees gradually closing in around you, until the footprints stopped at the mouth of a small, hidden cave.

The entrance was barely visible, half-buried in snow, but something about it drew you in. You knelt down, brushing the snow from the edges, revealing intricate stone blocks covered in carvings similar to the ones the village boy had brought you. Painted masks, adorned with swirling patterns of reds and whites, lined the inner walls, and Yakutian knives were arranged in ceremonial positions.

The air inside the cave was still, almost too still. You fumbled for your matchsticks, striking one and holding it up to cast a soft glow around you. The light flickered over the stone walls, revealing carvings of fire and snow—an odd combination, yet it made sense somehow, here in this frozen land. It felt like a shrine, a forgotten place of worship, long abandoned.

In the corner of your eye, you noticed a small stone just outside the cave. It was partially dusted in snow, but the engravings on it were clear. You leaned down, brushing it off with your gloved hand.

The instant your fingers touched the stone, a deep, gravelly voice echoed from behind you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You squealed, whipping around, only to find no one there. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you stumbled backward, falling straight into the snow. There were no footprints, no sign of anyone else. Just the eerie silence of the winter woods.

The spirit’s presence began to grow after you got home. Not just in the subtle warmth of the room or the way the hearth crackled to life at your arrival, but in the unmistakable feeling that he was always near. The warmth you once chalked up to the peculiarities of the stove now seemed deliberate, purposeful. The fire would roar to life just as your fingers began to freeze from the cold, as if it were watching, anticipating your needs.

It was no longer a question of if the spirit was real, but how deeply it was intertwined with the world around you. Every time you struck a match or lit a lantern, the flames danced longer than they should, their movements almost playful, as though teasing you. You tried to brush it off as wind or the natural flicker of fire, but something about the way the flames moved—how they seemed to respond to your presence—was undeniable.

It was trying to communicate.

It started with the crackling of the fire. At first, it was faint, like a low murmur beneath the sound of the wood burning. You would sit in front of the hearth after a long day of research, the warmth enveloping you, the sound becoming a constant companion. There were times you swore you heard words in the fire’s crackle, an indistinct whisper. "It’s just the wind," you told yourself. "Just the wood popping." But the more time passed, the clearer it became. The crackling wasn’t random—it carried meaning.

Then, one evening as you sat alone in the cabin after tossing a pancake into the fire, a cold gust of wind howling outside, you finally heard it: “You’re back.”

The voice was faint, almost lost in the sound of the firewood splitting, but it was there—low, gravelly, and unmistakable. You froze, heart pounding, eyes wide in surprise as you stared at the flames. For a moment, you thought you’d imagined it. But the voice came again, just as you leaned closer. “You’re not afraid.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. Your throat felt tight, your hands clammy despite the warmth. You tried to rationalize it—maybe you were exhausted, hallucinating from the cold. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t your imagination. Slowly, carefully, you muttered, “Am I... supposed to be afraid?”

The flames flickered in response, and you could swear you heard a huff, like a quiet laugh. Then the voice returned, clearer this time. “You’re stubborn.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, a mix of amusement and confusion swirling inside you. “If you’re a spirit,” you said softly, “then show me a sign. Let me know I’m not losing my mind.”

There was a pause, and for a moment you thought maybe the voice wouldn’t return. But then, the fire roared, flaring up for just a second, casting the entire cabin in a brilliant light. The heat was so intense that you instinctively stepped back, heart hammering in your chest.

So it was real.

The days after that were filled with small, subtle gestures. The fire seemed to burn longer without the need for more wood. When you struggled to chop firewood or gather supplies, you would return to your cabin to find fresh logs stacked neatly by the door or a basket of fish left outside. You didn’t question it anymore, though each act left you both grateful and uneasy. Eventually, he told you his name— Bakugou Katsuki.

"Thank you," you whispered to the fire one evening, unsure if Bakugou could hear you but needing to acknowledge the help he had provided.

The flames flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls, and you could almost sense his presence, as though he were sitting just beyond the hearth, watching over you.

It wasn’t just the warmth he brought. It was the feeling of protection, a sense that he was always there, keeping the biting cold at bay. The wind howled outside, but inside, the fire crackled with a steady, comforting heat, as though Bakugou himself were standing guard over your cabin.

As the connection between you and Bakugou deepened, so did the manifestations of his presence. There were times when you could feel warmth pass by you in the room, like an invisible hand brushing against your skin. And then, there were the footprints. In the mornings, you would find faint impressions in the snow outside your door—footprints too large to be your own, too distinct to be explained by passing animals. They led away from the cabin, disappearing into the woods where the trees whispered in the wind.

One night, after a long day of gathering research and barely avoiding frostbite, you collapsed onto the bed, too tired to even remove your boots. You stared into the hearth, watching the flames sway and shift. As you drifted off, you swore you saw something in the fire—a figure, tall and broad-shouldered, standing amidst the flames.

"Bakugou," you whispered, sleep pulling you under. The fire flared again, and in the brief moment before darkness claimed you, you felt the warmth of his presence like a blanket around your body, lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

With each passing day, Bakugou’s presence grew stronger. There were moments when you caught glimpses of him in reflections—on the frozen surface of a nearby pond or in the gleam of a window. He would appear for just a moment, the outline of a figure, the flicker of a flame in his eyes, and then he’d be gone, as though the world itself was trying to remember him.

"Why were you forgotten?" you asked the fire one evening, your voice barely a whisper. There was no immediate answer, but the flames shifted, as though Bakugou were trying to find the words.

"It wasn’t supposed to be like this," came the gravelly voice at last, softer than before. "I was supposed to protect this village. But something... something changed."

You waited, hoping for more, but the fire quieted, the conversation left unfinished. You knew he was withholding something, something important, but he wasn’t ready to reveal it just yet.

As the winter deepened, so did your connection. The emotional tension between you and Bakugou simmered just beneath the surface. He was no longer just a spirit haunting your cabin—he was a presence, a force that kept you safe, a companion in the long, cold nights. And as his voice grew more familiar, so did your thoughts about him. You started to look forward to the conversations by the hearth, the way the flames would flicker in response to your words, how his presence made the cabin feel less lonely, less cold.

But with that warmth came an ache, a yearning that neither of you dared to speak of yet. You wondered how far this connection could go, how real Bakugou could become.

One thing was certain: you were no longer alone in the tundra. And Bakugou, once forgotten, was starting to be remembered—by you.

The air was sharp and cold as you made your way back to the shrine, a small group of villagers following behind you. In your hands, you held an offering—a bundle of dried herbs, fish, and pancakes, all delicately wrapped in cloth. The villagers murmured amongst themselves, nervous but willing. They, too, had grown weary of the strange occurrences and were ready to do whatever was necessary to end them.

The old man leading the group had spoken of the fire spirit with reverence, explaining that the villagers once honored Bakugou with offerings to ensure their prosperity. Over time, however, the traditions had been forgotten, and with it, so had Bakugou’s power. Now, you were determined to set things right.

The path through the woods felt familiar. You’d followed it before, and yet today, it carried a different weight. You could feel him, his presence in the air, watching you from the shadows of the trees. It was as if the entire forest was holding its breath.

When you arrived at the shrine—a cave hidden deep within the woods—the villagers began to build a bonfire at its entrance. They stacked wood and kindling, and soon, flames licked the sky, casting the ancient stone carvings in a warm, flickering light. The shrine walls, covered in depictions of fire and snow, seemed to glow under the fire's embrace.

You approached the altar, laying the offerings down gently. The villagers bowed their heads, murmuring prayers to the forgotten spirit, asking for forgiveness. As you knelt beside the offerings, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder, feeling an intense heat—not from the bonfire, but from somewhere deeper within the cave.

For a moment, the flames crackled louder, and the ground beneath you seemed to hum with energy. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, everything went quiet. The strange occurrences in the village—the fires, the whispers in the wind, the unsettling feeling of being watched—ceased. You could feel it, a weight lifting off the air. The offering had been accepted.

The villagers left soon after, grateful for your leadership and certain that Bakugou’s anger had been soothed. But you lingered, something pulling you back toward the cave.

Once the others were out of sight, you found yourself drawn deeper into the shrine. The carvings on the walls seemed even more intricate in the dim light, and you ran your fingers over the smooth stone, marveling at the ancient craftsmanship. Your thoughts wandered to him, to Bakugou. Was he truly satisfied with the offerings? Would you ever see him again?

A soft crackling sound broke the silence. You froze, every hair on your body standing on end. Slowly, you turned around, your breath catching in your throat.

There he stood.

Bakugou, no longer a fleeting presence or a whisper in the flames, but solid and real, towering over you. He was just as you’d imagined—no, more. His bare chest, muscled and powerful, was only partially covered by a thick fur that draped over one shoulder. His skin seemed to shimmer with warmth, his eyes blazing red like embers. He exuded strength, yet his gaze—intense and unwavering—held something deeper. Hunger.

"You came back," his voice rumbled, low and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your mouth went dry. "I… I wanted to make sure the offering was enough."

He didn’t answer immediately, his fiery gaze trailing over you, making your skin tingle under the intensity of his stare. Then, with one swift movement, he closed the distance between you, pinning you gently against the cool stone of the cave wall. The heat of his body was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the cold of the cave, and you felt your pulse race.

"You shouldn’t be here alone," Bakugou growled, his breath hot against your skin.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words were lost as his lips crashed against yours, fierce and demanding. His kiss was consuming, like the fire he embodied—wild, uncontrollable, and impossible to resist. You melted against him, your hands instinctively reaching up to grip his shoulders, feeling the taut muscles beneath your fingers.

His body pressed against yours, his warmth enveloping you as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer. The world outside the cave disappeared—there was only Bakugou, his touch, his heat, and the insistent press of his lips against yours. You gasped as his hand moved up your back, sending sparks of electricity through your body.

The intensity of the kiss left you breathless, and when he finally pulled away, just enough to let you catch your breath, his lips brushed against your ear. “You don’t know what you’ve done to me,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper.

You barely had time to respond before the world shifted. One moment, you were in the cave, pressed against the stone; the next, you were back in your cabin, the familiar warmth of the hearth surrounding you. But Bakugou was still there, standing tall before you, his hands still on your body, his lips only inches from yours.

Your eyes widened in shock. “How…?”

He smirked, his eyes gleaming. “Fire is everywhere,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “And where there’s fire, I can be.”

Before you could fully comprehend what he’d just said, his lips were on yours again, softer this time but no less urgent. He kissed you like a man who had waited centuries for this moment, his hands exploring your body with a reverence that made your knees weak.

The fire in the hearth flared behind you, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow as Bakugou’s body pressed against yours, his heat making your skin burn with desire. Every touch, every kiss felt like it was stoking the flames inside you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more.

You moaned softly against his lips, your hands tangling in his hair as the intensity between you grew, the connection undeniable. He growled in response, deepening the kiss, his grip tightening as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Whatever boundaries had existed between the mortal world and the spirit realm no longer mattered. In that moment, there was only you and Bakugou—fire and flesh, spirit and soul, bound together in a heat that refused to be extinguished.

Without a word, he approached you, his movements as fluid as molten lava. He bent down and claimed your lips, You gasped at the contact, your body responding with a fiery need that matched his own. 

He quickly peeled off your many layers of clothes. His hands found their way under your pants, taking them off as his touch burned your skin and he spread your legs. The world outside the cabin faded away, leaving only the two of you and the dance of shadows on the walls.

Bakugou knelt before you, his intense crimson eyes never leaving yours as he parted your folds with his fingers. You shrunk under his close gaze as he took the sight of you in. “So perfect,” he groaned, grabbing at your soft thighs with two large hands and spreading you out for him.

 The first lick of his tongue sent you spiraling, the sensation intense on your clit. You moaned, your hands grabbing at his blonde spikes, your body arching towards the heat of his mouth. He took his time, tasting you, savoring you, driving you closer and closer to the edge of release.

But just as you felt yourself about to fall over the edge, you pushed him back, the need to explore his body consuming you. 

You pushed him onto the ground, pulling down at his pants. “It’s my turn,” you proclaimed. 

He looked up at you, a question in his eyes, but you didn't waver. You dropped to your knees pulling down his pants and gasping when his hard shaft bounced out of the fabric. It was the size of your face, and its girth was something else. 

He noticed your awe at him, and his ego was inflated even more than it already is. “Like what you see?”

You roll your eyes, taking his thick length in your hand and bringing it to your lips before giving the tip a peck. He groaned, a sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the cabin. Your hand grasped at his strong thighs. Teasing him, you spent time kissing all over his outer and inner thighs before moving to his shaft. 

You took your time, exploring every inch of him with your mouth, worshipping him as he deserved. You licked him up and down his hot length, watching as his eyes screwed together in pleasure before you took his whole length into your mouth— up and down his length in a bobbing motion.

His hands tangled in your hair, guiding you, urging you faster as he grew harder. The heat of his body was intoxicating, his scent a heady mix of sweet smoke and masculinity that made your head spin.

The fire in the hearth of the cabin roared to life, casting shadows across the room as you brought him closer and closer to the edge. His groans filled your ears, the only sound in the quiet night, until he could take no more. With a final, desperate thrust, he emptied himself into your mouth, the heat of his cum like liquid fire. 

Bakugou chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours as he lifted you to your feet. He picked you up with ease, carrying you to the soft fur that lay before the fireplace. Gently, he laid you down, your skin feeling like it was on fire from the heat of his touch.

"Your body," he murmured, tracing the curves of your hips with his thumb, "it's a masterpiece.” He leaned down, capturing a nipple with his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. You arched your back, gasping as the heat from his breath melded with the warmth from the fire, making it feel like you were melting from the inside out.

"Bakugou," you moaned, his name a prayer on your lips as he moved to your other breast, giving it the same loving attention. His hands roamed over your stomach, his fingers finding their way between your legs again. 

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Katsuki,” he corrected, as he began to fuck you with them, slow and deep, watching as your eyes fluttered closed and your mouth fell open in ecstasy.

As he worked his fingers into you, a low hum escaped him. “So damn tight,” watching as your face wrinkled up in pleasure. 

"Look at me," he growled, his voice a demand that you couldn't refuse. You met his gaze, the intensity of his stare making your heart race even faster. His thumb brushed against your clit as his lips pulled themselves into a grin as he sent a shockwave through your body. "I want to see you come apart for me."

As soon as he said these words, his fingers curled directly into your sweet spot. Your vision went white with pleasure. In the background, his grin only became more animalistic as he leaned down to catch a nipple into his mouth. His fingers worked you to the edge, driving you crazy.

The orgasm crashed over you like a massive wave, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. Your thighs were wet and sticky with your own release.

He watched you, his own arousal evident in the way he held himself, his eyes never leaving yours. "That was just the beginning," he promised, his voice a rumble that sent another shiver down your spine.

He watched you— all spread out and pretty for him on the fur, watching the warm light of the fire bounce off your delectable skin as you tried to catch your breath and your legs shook. He couldn’t help but mark you up all over as he sent you over the edge once more with his lips and fingers this time. A light chuckle left him as you cried out his name and writhed underneath him— overstimulation already starting to take over.

Your breathless voice called out to him in the small space of the cabin. “Katsuki,” you beckoned, “please… I need it.” You knew that he kept going at this rate, you’d go insane.

“You sure, princess? You think you can take it now?” His head kept burying itself between your legs, kitten licking at your clit before sucking at it and thrusting his fingers in and out of you. “You’re still not loose enough,” he says as he curls his fingers up again, releasing a squeal from you. 

You just kept cumming— each time you came, your walls only got more and more sensitive, pulling you to orgasm again.

Bakugou watched in sadistic joy every time your walls tightened further around his fingers. He came back up to you to catch your moaning lips into a kiss before trailing down and leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your neck and chest. When he started playing with your clit again, you came again, tears welling up in your eyes from sheer pleasure. 

Your mind couldn’t fathom anything but Bakugou. Your mouth cried out broken strings of his name until he finally withdrew his fingers from your core, licking them up lasciviously. He lined himself up with you, tapping his tip against your puffy clit, making you jolt. Your entrance was still convulsing from your long string of climaxes as he finally pushed himself against it, groaning when he felt himself slip past the ring of muscle. 

He took in a sharp breath of air. “Could you quit clenching?” His head rolled back in pleasure, not even fully inside of you yet. “I’m already,” he pushes himself in further, “strugglin’ as it is…”

He was so thick. It filled you up, making you cum when he was only buried into your walls up until the tip and then some. “I’m sorry,” you managed to whine out, breathless, “I can’t help it!”

With these words, he froze and stared at you climaxing before pushing the rest of himself in, causing you to scream. He gave you a moment to relax with his entire shaft inside of you. You felt so full— he stretched you out so good. “So noisy,” he smirked, only spurring your voice to get louder with each thrust.

He started to pick up a steady pace, pistoning in and out of you. Each thrust made you shudder—his length stretched you out perfectly and hit you in all of the right places. Your hands gripped at the fur beneath you for any sort of purchase. He wiped one of your tears away, burying his head into the crook of your neck and groaning with each thrust. 

You believed that spirits didn’t exist, but here you were, getting dicked down by one. And you were sure as hell enjoying it.

As he pounded away at you, your eyes rolled back into your head, your moans turning into cries. He was so rough, so primal in his movements, it was like he was trying to claim you. And with every thrust, it felt like he was getting closer to doing so. 

He kissed down your neck, nipping at the soft skin with his teeth. His hands roamed over your body, gripping your hips tightly as he thrusted in deeper and harder. The noises of your pussy squelching in the cabin were obscene, but they only served to spur Bakugou on.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmured against your skin.

His thrusts were getting faster and more erratic, so you knew he was close. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him on, needing him to fill you up with his heat. And then, with one final, powerful thrust, he did. You felt the warmth of his cum fill you up, spilling into your womb like molten lava.

He collapsed onto you, panting heavily. His weight was a comforting presence as he remained inside of you, his cock still pulsing with every beat of his heart. You could feel his warmth seep into your very core, leaving you feeling complete in a way you never had before.

As the moments passed, he slowly pulled out of you, his cum dripping out and down your thighs. You watched as he looked down, his eyes widening in awe at the sight. He leaned down to kiss you, his hand cupping your cheek. “You’re mine now,” he whispered.

a/n: we're back!

lol not beta read again please let me know if you see any typos or anything that's just like. wrong/inconsistent

my taglist is open! lmk if you wanna be tagged in future bakugou fics or j all my fics in general

thank you for reading & stay hydrated, y'all <3

directory/m.list

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Entrance to a home that's partially underground, and is surprisingly nice inside. They need to tidy this up, though. 1983 build in Shell Knob, MO. 2bds, 2ba, 1,288 sq ft, $379k + $50mo. HOA.

I have to wonder why they buried it, like this. Maybe for heating and cooling reasons?

The only exposed parts are the deck and terrace that both need preservation.

Lake view from the terrace.

Anyway, here's the entrance hall. It looks like a fancy bunker. Even church - like.

It leads straight to a sitting area and living area in the exposed part, surrounded by windows. Note the ceiling. This sitting area has custom built-in seating and a stone floor.

Once you enter the other area, there's carpeting. There's another living room.

And, a dining area in front of the kitchen.

Looks like everything is original.

The stove is new.

The primary bedroom looks like it has a built-in bed. There's a wall of windows and a door to the terrace.

Bath #1 has a tub.

Bedroom #2 is smaller, has a built-in bed and corner closet.

Bath #2 has a shower. It appears to me that only the baths and entrance hall are underground.

The home is on Table Rock Lake and look at the elaborate dock and boat "garage" there is.

They have a whole fleet of boats in here.

Covered picnic table on the water. This is very nice.

0.90 Acre lot

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/26451-Ledge-Dr-Shell-Knob-MO-65747/440986750_zpid/

[motthe]

I’m here to add fluff!! So I remember how in one of ur Viktor fics he had a mug for our lumen cause we just liked sitting in the liquid (then Jayce drank it 😔) so I was thinking ‘well wouldn’t that be funny to see?’

Basically imagine gn!reader is baking and convinces Viktor to help out and both lumens are being cute and reader leaves a bowl out full of batter while trying to teach Viktor how to bake and said lumen has went into the batter and funny hijinks enssues 😌

awwww this is so warm and fluffy!! i hope you enjoy this drabble inspired by your cute idea!!

With the last of his exams done, Viktor returned to his dorm. Some of his coevals wished him happy holidays as they passed by, packed and ready to head home for the winter break.

There was a time Viktor hated this time of the year. While he’d been given special permission to remain on school grounds over break, it left him with little to do other than work on personal projects or attend meetings with Heimerdinger, who always didn’t have much in the way of family. He’d even gone as far as to invite him to his own home for the holidays, but Viktor refused to be a burden. He was sure to thank his professor for the hospitality.

For a time, the winter would remain an empty season for his existence. Through it all, his fated’s lumen kept him sane. Should the loneliness creep to deeply into his head, you were there to nudge him back into reality with your soft touch.

This year was different, your sugary pink light tugging at the end of the scarf wrapped around his neck. His excitement seemed to fuel yours, that sweet scent you exuded surrounding his senses.

You’d met one another in the spring. Heimerdinger had been pushing for Viktor to attend his favorite bakery for some time now. He’d barely gotten through the door before that familiar scent hit him from head to toe. Your lumen had gone from a power eye pink to a blushing white, drifting high over the other customers and dancing through the air. You all but cartwheeled into another lumen, sending a flash across the store that would make a lighthouse envious.

When the brilliance had died down, he watched the tawny lumen—his lumen—float back down into waiting hands. They were caked in flour, a dusting across your cheek as your eyes met.

Now, he spent much of free time visiting you—the baker that owned and lived above Heimerdinger’s beloved shop.

Rapping on your door, it was barely two seconds before footsteps sounded and you were opening the door with a grin—flour powdering your cheek once more.

“Welcome back, my love,” you greeted, pulling him into a warm hug but not before kissing his cheek. “How was the exam?”

“Fine,” he murmured, melting into your arms as the smell of something cooking surfaced. “What are you making?”

“I wanted to celebrate,” you hummed, pulling him into your apartment and out of the cold. He barely had time to blink before you were pulling his jacket off and unwinding the scarf you’d made him in the fall.

He followed you at his own pace into the kitchen, smiling as your lumens twirled together through the air. The warmth of the scene lit up something in his chest.

“I tried out dozens of recipes and finally found one that I think will match. I may have added a few more ingredients to make it a bit more hearty, but if you hate it I left a portion of the original in the fridge!”

You moved the lid from the pot steaming on the stove to reveal the meal. His heart about burst as he limped over, the scent different but still so very familiar.

“How did you..?” He recalled telling you it was a family recipe that he never learned. He thought it had died with his mother.

“My grandparents were from Zaun,” you said softly, covering the soup. “So I asked about the ingredients they had access to and worked from there.”

“I dont know what to say,” he murmured, overwhelmed with emotion.

“Nothing to say, just eat!” you chirped, fetching him a bowl. “I also have brownie batter to finish for dessert.”

He looked to the bowl on the counter before you waved him on.

“Go sit! I’ll be right there with everything.”

“Let me help with something, at least,” he argued gently.

You giggled and moved to the fridge, pulling out a bowl of salad. “Then you can bring this over for me! Thank you.”

You pressed another kiss to his cheek, sending him on as you wiped your hands on your apron and began gathering the plates and bowls.

It wasn’t long before you both were sat at the table. The candles you had lit left him nervous, not used to being wooed. You soon brought him out of his shell by talking about your day, always finding ingenious ways to turn the conversation around to him.

“You have enough room for brownies?” you asked, beginning to clear the table before he gently covered your hands with one of his.

“No, allow me. You cooked, so I shall clean.”

You sighed and relinquished the chore, but the joy in your eyes was clear.

As he brought everything to the sink, you worked on putting up the leftovers. By the time you both finished, you realized you forgot to preheat the oven.

Viktor leaned against the counter as you turned the dial, glancing down at the bowl of batter. He chuckled as your lumen landed on the edge before his eyes widened as the bowl began to tip.

He grabbed the edge to pull it back down but it sent you catapulting into the brown substance.

“Oh, dear,” he whispered.

“Hmm?” You turned, raising an eyebrow as he stepped in front of the bowl. “Everything okay?”

“Eh, yes,” he mumbled, scratching behind his ear.

“Okay,” you chuckled, eyes glancing over his shoulder. “Can you pass me the bowl? I need to pour it into a dish.”

“Yes, one moment,” he said, turned to find your lumen struggling to rise from the batter. Setting his cane to the side. He reached in to pluck you out, but your laughter had him jumping.

“When did that get in there?” you asked, head by his shoulder.

“You fell,” he mumbled, holding you up. “I’ll grab a rag.”

“Okay,” you giggled, taking the bowl.

As he cleaned your lumen off, he eyed the batter on his fingers and, too curious for his own good, brought them to his mouth.

As always, your baking was heavenly.

When he returned to your side, you snorted when your eyes found his face before grabbing his chin. He closed his eyes as you went in for a kiss, a shudder working through him as your tongue swiped at the corner of his mouth instead.

“Taste good?” you giggled, pecking him once for good measure.

“Of course,” he coughed, flushed.

You just laughed.

[flying-womrats]

replacements for a few LMS mods

If you think you saw this post yesterday, yes you did- then I made a couple edits and realized I should have done it under a readmore in case people reblogged it... So here we go again! These are the possible replacements I found for the littlemssam mods I was using, in case they help anyone else.

Caveats: - Often not a 1:1 replacement. - I only went looking for replacements for mods I was actually using, so this only covers a fraction of her catalog. - Most of these modders still use Curseforge, they're just not exclusive to it.

Additionally, if anyone knows of a replacement for any of the following: Go For A Walk, Improved Meditation Stool, Improved Practical Spells (the improvements to the spells themselves,) No Random Job Offers (I know BosseladyTV has one, but it's CF exclusive,) Purchased Items Delivered By Mail, Release All The Ghosts, or Tea For Children, please drop me an ask! I only request no Curseforge exclusives and no Zer0.

On to the list:

Allow Stoves in University Housing -> Zerbu, No University Housing Restrictions

Auto Employees -> Kuttoe's "X Everywhere" mods, Zerbu's Spawn Refresh

Auto-Light Fireplaces Only When Cold -> Bienchen, fireplaceautonomytweak

Buy Treats via PC -> Bienchen, buypettreat

Calendar Tweaks -> Kuttoe, Less Frequent Prom (caveat: takes time to start working, especially if you're using a longer season setting)

Cookbooks -> ClaudiaSharon, Cook Experimental/Cultural/Jungle Food Without Tasting It First

Immortality Potion Fix -> Kuttoe, Potions Rework (only a half replacement- removes the VFX, but doesn't lock aging like the Scarlet/LMS mod)

Kids Can Walk Dogs -> ChippedSim, Paws & Claws (A Sim's Best Friend module)

More Away Actions -> Bienchen, awayactions (is actually included in the LMS mod)

No Burning Sun in Forgotten Hollow -> TwistedMexi, Daywalkers + Underworlds (caveat: per TMex's comment on the latter, the eternal night is only cosmetic and still requires Daywalkers for vampires to come out at "daytime". Also, Daywalkers affects all worlds. Still interested in a mod closer to LMS's if one exists!)

No Insects Herbalism -> Simularity, Improved Herbalism Potions & Features

No Shoe Sign Animation -> Lotharihoe, Shoe Sign Animation Tweaks (doesn't remove the animation entirely but does stop it from interrupting walking)

No Sick, Dirty, Sad and Hungry Pets -> Bienchen, catanddogsanity

Pregnancy Overhaul ("sims can do more" part) -> Bienchen, pregnantsimscandomore

Pregnancy Overhaul (belly sizes) -> t0nischwartz, No Bump or sonozakisisterssims4, "The belly in pregnancy depends on the number of babies" (the former is simpler but has no equivalent to the "larger belly" option, the latter has a bit more going on but has direct equivalents to LMS's sizes, so take your pick!)

Sleep All Night and Sleep In -> Midnitetech- Stay Asleep, Mokunoid- Better Sleep Autonomy or Lot 51- Sunrise depending on desired depth/customization

Social Activities -> adeepindigo, Youth, Friends and Family Activities

Small GF Reactions Overhaul -> Bienchen, lesscelebreact

Small Laundry Overhaul -> Bienchen's laundry mods cover some (but not all- anyone have something to make it cost money on community lots?) of it, along with Lotharihoe's No Autonomously Set Laundry Down to replace the "auto put away laundry" part.

Spar With For Everyone -> Bienchen, sparwithfornonmilitary

Toddler Ask For Food No Junk -> Bienchen, healthyhighchair (not quite the same thing but it solves the "why do they always give the kid chips" issue at least)

WEE: Working Elevators Everywhere -> Ravasheen, Uplifting Elevators (space and wall height permitting, it's also possible to make no-CC elevators with the RoM debug portals!)

Wellness Treat Fix -> Bienchen, petanxiousbufffix

Also, while I wasn't using either of them myself, Meet&Mingle can replace SimDa Dating App, and Lovestruck adds a "canon" dating app (though given EA's complete lack of attention to QA etc. I wouldn't recommend paying for it.)

edit 6/26/24: added Sunrise, petanxiousbufffix, pregnantsimscandomore

edit 6/27/24: added No Bump, moved into a new post.

edit 6/29/24: added Daywalkers, No University Housing Restrictions (ty @northernnightsky!) and the sonozakisisters bump mod

edit 7/2/24: added Underworlds (ty anon), Paws & Claws, and a link to the tutorial I followed for no-CC elevators

edit 8/22/24: added Spawn Refresh

[ohmygraves]

thinking about chef au

you were new, wanted to work in a restaurant and learned that one of the famous italian restaurants in town was looking for a new employee. you applied, of course, and after a little test and interview, you got accepted to work there. it seems like the owner chef, john price, took a liking to you.

still, the real challenge came from afterwards. everyone looked down on you in the kitchen, as you were new to the industry. you earned yourself the nickname "bambino/bambina" in the kitchen, "bambi" for short, because not only that you were new, you kept making so many rookie mistakes.

working in the kitchen was hellish. hell, everyone called it a battlefield. you didn't even have breaks the first few days, crouching down near the stove eating the employee's lunch in a hurry before continuing to prepare some ingredients. you were exhausted, beyond stressed, and not to mention pissed off with your supervisor, if you could even call him that.

ghost was the one in charge for the pasta section, and you were placed under him. he never let you near the stove, simply barking orders at you to prepare him all the things he needed.

"bambi! did you de-shell the shrimps!?"

"almost done!"

"hurry the fuck up!"

"bene!"

he pissed you off, truthfully. but you can't lie that he's really good at his job. you tasted some of his cooking, he made staff meals a few times, and his food was amazing. even when he's making mistakes, it didn't faze him, simply going back to work.

he's a pro.

some of the chefs said that he's been working there for a long time, and he was really hard to hang out with. he eats with the owner, doesn't want to go out and meet the customers when they ask to see the chef (which actually happened once, he told you to go see the guests on behalf of him). he sometimes could be seen hanging out with the fan favorite wait staff, johnny, and the antipasto chef, kyle.

there was one time when the front staff didn't have enough, too many people were calling off work, and you had to go help outside of the kitchen. price said that it could be a good opportunity to learn, and everyone who is the current kitchen staff used to work in the front as a waitress for about a year before working in the kitchen. you hated it.

sometimes customers picked on you, though johnny helped a lot. he told you how he was here originally to be a chef too, but many regulars came in just to visit him. he didn't leave for the kitchen, staying to entertain the guests. surprisingly, he didn't mind one bit.

"are you always flirting with the guests every single time?"

"jealous, bonnie?"

"hell no."

johnny did flirt with you a few times. he was the only one who didn't call you bambi.

kyle helped you get settled in, since you're both close in age. he was patient and kind, as close to a friend as you could have in the hellish workplace. there was one time you hurt yourself so badly that you were bleeding all over the place. you insisted on working, but he yelled at you, telling you to go to the hospital. he couldn't leave his post, but he got the dishwasher boy to take you there. you ended up going back to work afterwards, wearing many gloves to cover up the bandages.

"sure you're fine?"

"took painkillers... 'm fine..."

"okay, careful with it. don't want blood on the guests' plates."

you didn't meet könig after a while, until that one time while working up front johnny had you go to the dolce section to get more bread. könig was the only one working there, basically a small room at the back of the kitchen, making bread and sweets by himself. you've never seen him, but it's probably because he always eats by himself during break. he's a recluse, awkward with others, but he's damn good when making sweets.

"you work here by yourself?"

"yeah."

"that's amazing. you're so good at making dolce. everyone liked it!"

he didn't say anything afterwards, but there was a faint smile behind his mask as he rolled out some dough to make bread. you made a note to eat with him sometime in the back, if he wanted to that is.

[rhapsodynew]

#rare photos

RARE PHOTOGRAPHS OF GEORGE HARRISON TAKEN BY PAUL MCCARTNEY IN 1959.

Paul McCartney and George Harrison at that time lived just one stop away from each other in the so-called "Trading Estate" in Speke.

During these bus trips, George found out that Paul plays trumpet and got a guitar, and Paul found out that George plays guitar, they got together at night and played songs that Paul remembers, such as "Besame Mucho" and "Don't Rock me Daddy O".

Paul and George became fast friends, even hitchhiking to Wales in August 1959 before they became famous and joined The Beatles.

"Better times with George? We hitchhiked to a place in Wales called Harlech, we were kids." We heard the song "Men Of Harlech", saw it on the sign, yes, there was a big castle. And we just went there. We had guitars everywhere and we ended up in this cafe. You know, we tried to go to some place, to a central meeting place, there was a small cafe in Harlech that had a jukebox. So we sat down there. We met a guy, he started talking, he was into rock and roll, you know, we went and stayed at his house. - Paul McCartney

"One day Paul and I decided to hitchhike. This is something that no one dreams of today. Firstly, you will probably be robbed before you even pass through the Mercy Tunnel, and secondly, everyone has cars and they are already stuck in traffic. I often traveled with my family to the south, to Devon, to Exmouth, so Paul and I decided to go there first. "We didn't have a lot of money. We found a bed and breakfast. We got to a city, walked down the street, it started to get dark. We saw a woman and said, "Excuse me, do you know where we can stay?" She felt sorry for us and said, "My boy has left, come and stay at my house." She took us to her place, she allowed us to stay in her boy's room and cooked breakfast for us the next morning. She was very sweet. I do not know who she was.

"We continued along the south coast towards Exmouth. On the way, we talked at the pub with a customer who told us his name was Oxo Whitney. (He later appears in "A Spaniard in the Works". After we told John this story, he used this name. Most of John's books are based on funny things that were told to him.) Then we went to Paignton. We still had almost no money. We had small backpacks, we stopped at grocery stores. We bought spaghetti bolognese or spaghetti Milanese. They were in striped cans: Milanese with red stripes, bolognese with blue stripes. And rice with Ambrosia cream. We opened the jar, bent the lid and held the jar over the stove to keep it warm. It was what we lived for.

"We arrived in Paignton with no extra money, so we spent the night on the beach, got up in the morning and went for a walk again. We drove through North Devon and took the ferry to South Wales because Paul had a relative, so we decided to go there. "In Chepstow, we went to the police station and asked to stay in the cell. They said, "No." So we went and slept on a hardboard bench. It's damn cold. We left there and hitchhiked on. Moving north through Wales, we were given a lift by truck. Back then, trucks didn't have a passenger seat, so I sat on the engine cover. Paul was sitting on the radiator. He was wearing jeans with zippers on the back pockets and after a while he suddenly jumped up screaming.His zipper connected the positive and negative poles of the battery, heated red hot and left a mark. "When we finally got to Butlins, we couldn't get there. They had barbed wire fences to keep the campers and us out. That's why we had to break in." – George Harrison, The Beatles Anthology.

1960s

George, Paul and Ringo, Vee Caldwell House, Liverpool, 1961

George, Rory Storm, Ringo, Johnny "Guitarist" Byrne and their friends, Vee Caldwell House, Liverpool, 1961

George and Paul, the Cashba Club, February 1961

[killxio]

bluecollar!reiner headcannons

word count: 725 [ 2 min 40 sec read] | ✪ content warnings: smut, kitchen sex, blue collar men :/ but a good one, p in v sex in general, fingering.. uhhh

bluecollar!reiner x black!reader / constructionworker!reiner x black!reader

✭ you and your blonde-headed personal bob the builder

bluecollar!reiner who does construction and pools.

bluecollar!reiner who sleeps like a LOG. like, has rolled over ontop of you on multiple instances and it’s taken having to literally slap him to wake him up.

bluecollar!reiner who absolutely throws down at cookouts and get togethers, you and your friends and family are just so good in the kitchen and babyboy needs to EAT.

bluecollar!reiner who works so hard because his favorite view of you is on a beach, or poolside at a fancy resort taking his cock in a risky, barely covered blind spot.

bluecollar!reiner who, 8/10 times cannot sleep without your manicured fingers scrubbing at his scalp or smooth palms scanning over his body and rubbing soothing circles.

bluecollar!reiner who sometimes brings you small bouquets if the landscape of the construction site he’s on has some pretty ones for the taking.

bluecollar!reiner who saved the petals from those flowers and proposed to you surrounded by them.

bluecollar!reiner who walks so hard for literally no reason. :/ like, he comes home late after pushing through the end of his customers pool build and i stg you think the rapture is occurring. it took you a few months of dating to get used to the fe-fi-fo-fum ass walking he does but even sometimes he still manages to wake you up.

reiner finally emerges in the bedroom after putting away his lunch box and heavy work boots to see his poor poor fiancé glaring at him from underneath a pillow.

“i woke ya’ didn’t i?”

“yes mister braun. you did.😐”

bluecollar!reiner who does that thing in the gym where he uses you as a weight for his pull ups sometimes. your lock screen is a photo of you smiling as reiner is doing a pull-up and you can see his abs on full display overhead.

bluecollar!reiner who looks forward to the massages you give him every night, working out the knots in his shoulder blades, soothing the aches in his biceps..

bluecollar!reiner who thanks you for the massages by doing you one better:

the plat plat plat of his dick sliding in and out of you resonates through the room, and your back is arching off the wall. reiner was supposed to be carrying you back to bed after a show and a massage on the couch, but here you are only halfway down the hall and coating his dick in cream.

“please please kiss me” you plead, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten and swell.

he huffs a little and between your deep kisses you can feel the stubble of his beard.

“reiiiii ‘m gonna cummmm” you whine, looking at him with that hazy glint in your eyes as you release on him.

“good girl, so so good for me doll.”

bluecollar!reiner who’s socials are empty besides a few photos of you or you and him and MAYBE a selfie.

bluecollar!reiner who you send video rants to throughout the day to keep him company while he works. he responds with videos of his own if he can.

you open the video reiner sent twenty minutes ago.

he’s propped his phone up on the back of his truck, his work shirt is absolutely covered in wet cement so as he’s responding to whatever you said in your previous video, he’s taking off his shirt and putting on a new one.

“.. oh yeah and lunch was amazing. not burnt or overcooked. thank you princess.”

his video ends after a quick wink and pop of his gum. meanwhile, you’re thinking about the way reiner was far from concerned about his lunch while you were trying to make it. he had you bent over the counter, knuckle deep in your cunt and tongue circling your clit. reiner wasn’t focused on anything besides the way your wetness was dripping down his arm, but you’re busy struggling to keep tell him about the food on the stove.

“r-rei baby.. i have- fuck.. i have your lunch for t-tomorrow- ah.. on the stoveee.”

“uh-huh.. god this pussy is so fucking delicious.” he says, only coming up for air for a brief second and continuing to ravage you.

bluecollar!reiner who has a photo of you on the dashboard of his work truck.

bluecollar!reiner who loves letting you ride him slow while he talks over the plans and spreadsheets for the next big project he has.

bluecollar!reiner who loves you to the moon and back and will build anything for you.

[lillsisamarshmallow]

Water Fountain in the Kitchen (7)

Summary: The first days in a cramped apartment with 7 other people, what could possibly go wrong? There’s never a wrong time for an umbrella!

Word count: 5.8k (Sorry?)

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, Jump scare for Y/n? Let me know if I missed any!

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Masterlist | Series Masterlist

If you enjoyed this chapter and are enjoying this series, please like, reblog, maybe leave a reply or even follow if you feel like it, it is much appreciated!

Taglist (Open)

Taglist: @kalala22 @knjloverr @xanny91 @rinkud @marblemoonstones @miwsolovely @multifandomlover1227 @belikejk @nikkiordonez12 @wtvbabes @lazullywinter @danielle143 @exfolitae @juju-227592

If you would like to be added please let me know!

The house was quiet and dark, no lights were on and little to know light was shining through the windows due to the large rain clouds littering the sky and pouring rain down on the streets, I walked into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, rounding the corner, I made my way over to the light switch so I could see.

Hesitating, I remembered the sleeping men on my couch and decided not to flick it on, shuffling my way back into the kitchen I switched on the small stove light instead, it flickered before illuminating a small area allowing me to see in front of me. I turned on the kettle before grabbing myself a mug, as I went to grab the milk, I heard my phone start ringing, not wanting to disturb the boys I answered as fast as I could, checking the contact it displayed.

‘Feral 🦝 ’

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, how’s it going?” Her voice came through the phone, extending the ‘e’ in ‘hey.’

She rang me at 6:45 in the morning, to ask ‘how’s it going’?

“Uhh, I’m doing fine, how are you- “

“We have a problem.” She cut me off, paying more attention to her voice, I noticed that she sounded nervous.

“What is it this time?” I asked her fully expecting it to be some minor problem that we could easily fix, and she had just been overreacting, not the first time it would have happened. I screwed off the lid of the milk before placing it on the counter, the kettle had gone off now so I started pouring the hot water into my mug with the tea bag already inside.

“Yunjin, Kai, Kazuha and Jongho, quit.”

“What?”

“They quit.” She said again.

“B-but, that’s half our staff! What are we going to do?” I said alarmed, but trying not to be too loud, if they’ve quit then there’s not going to be enough staff to cover all the shifts.

“I don’t know, lovey.” She sighed, using her nickname for me. “They called me and sent their emails yesterday saying they were quitting.”

“Crap.” I huffed out as I finished pouring the milk into my mug, stirring it as she continued. “Well, we have until the rain stops to find more workers…”

Seoyeon made a noise of agreement and decided that we could both look into hiring new workers during this time off, she then went on to start telling me about how she was thinking of adding an outside seating area to the café, the café was getting so busy these days that a lot of the time we would run out of seats for the customers and they would have to stand, we didn’t have the biggest building for the café, we never expected it to get overly busy so we didn’t have much seating inside.

I was still standing at the table listening to Seoyeon talk while I drank my tea, it was still early morning and the apartment was still dark the only illumination being the small kitchen light, I hadn’t really noticed at first, but my gaze had wandered to a specific area, too lost in conversation with Seoyeon I hadn’t noticed the object I was staring at.

I kept trying to focus on the darkness so I could figure out why I couldn’t look away from the abyss, it strained my eyes, I had tuned out Seoyeon’s voice in my ear, peering into the darkness it was getting clearer, ahead of me, higher than my own, were two, glowing eyes, staring right back at me.

I stepped back, a scream ripping itself through my body before being cut off, the eyes had lunged forwards, a large hand merging before me, it came up to wrap around my face covering my mouth, the scream muffled under the large hand and sent vibrations through my face.

“Shhh!” The voice belonging to the eyes spoke up, in my fright I had dropped my phone to the floor which had make a loud noise.

Wait… that voice?

“H-Hoseok?” I huffed out, my breaths were uneven, eyes wide, I felt like I had lost years off my life. I looked up only to come face to face with the fox hybrid, a giddy smile on his face like he had caught me while out on a hunt, something flashed in his eyes before they returned to normal.

“Heh, sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said with a slight laugh. “I heard you in the kitchen, and I couldn’t sleep any longer.”

“H-how, I -.” I started fumbling over my words.” What do you mean you didn’t mean to scare me’? I thought someone broke in!” I breathed out trying to catch my breath. “What did you think was going to happen?”

“I-” Before Hoseok could finish speaking, a scratchy, static voice interrupted us, I looked down to see my phone remembering that I was on call with Seoyeon.

“Y/n? Y/n! Is everything okay? What happened?” She yelled through the phone, I grabbed it looking back at Hoseok as I began speaking.

“I-” I stuttered. “I’m okay, Seoyeon. I just, uh, dropped something is.” I gulped hoping she would believe the little white lie.

“What? No, I definitely heard someone else speaking.” She spoke out. “Is someone there with you?”

Dammit

“Uhh, yeah-yeah, I have a friend staying with me, he can’t go home until the storm has passed.”

“Oh- Oohhh, I see.” Seoyeon said through the phone. “Welp, I’ll leave you two to it then. Talk to you later lovey, see you.” The beep of the phone call ending sent the room back into a silence.

“Seoyeon.” I mutter out annoyed at her, before it was covered by laughter, Hoseok was giggling, his smile is infectious, and I began giggling too. I made Hoseok a cup of tea and I refilled my own, we spent most of the morning talking in the kitchen or just sitting in a comfortable silence, slowly watching the sky get brighter, but still staying covered.

It was later in the day now, and everyone had woken up, I decided to make some breakfast for as all and Seokjin insisted on helping, at some point, despites Seokjin’s pleads for him to stay away from the kitchen, Namjoon ended up joining us, I wasn’t sure why he didn’t want Namjoon in the kitchen, but I wasn’t complaining about another set of hands.

Seokjin assigned him the easiest job, washing the berries, Seokjin was cooking the pancakes and I was whipping cream and getting out the different toppings for the pancakes, jams, spreads, syrup, sauces, anything I had that they might like. Everything was going well, but it didn’t take long for me to see why they didn’t want Namjoon in the kitchen.

Just as I finished up with the cream and Seokjin was on his last set of pancakes before they would all be ready, I heard a snapping sound and some metal clinking, followed by a gasp and the tap running, Seokjin spun around but didn’t let go of the pan, following his lead I also turned to see where the sound came from.

Peering around Seokjin’s broad shoulders I saw Namjoon standing very still, looking down at the running water, he turned his body to face us, his eyes met mine before he looked down at his other hand. My eyes followed his, widening at what he was holding, in his right hand, still dripping with water, in a tight grip, was the sink tap handle.

The two men seemed to freeze, we were all looking at the handle in Namjoon’s hands, the sudden silence must have alerted the others as some movement occurred followed by multiple gasps, but no one was saying anything. Noticing the water was still on I sprang into action leaving the whipped cream on the bench, making my way over to Namjoon I took in the sight before me, the tap to turn off the water was broken.

“Here!” Namjoon said from beside me, he reached forward with his other hand and grabbed onto the end of the tap, I think he was trying to stop the water, but he failed, as his hand got in the middle of the waterspout, and it sprayed everywhere, all over the sink, all over me and Namjoon, my shirt was drench, but he kept holding on.

I let out a scream as the chilly water soaked through my shirt and it clung to my skin, I could hear some yelling but the consistent water bursting into my face made it hard to understand or talk back. Figuring the best decision was to turn off the water under the sink, I quickly dropped to my knees trying to wipe the water droplets from my eyes so I could see, but as I wiped them away more came to fill in the space left behind, reaching forwards I grabbed hold of the handle, yanking the door open.

Ducking my head under the bench and into the small area allowed the droplets to not continuously be replaced, I wrapped my fingers around the pipe, searching until I found the little valve, turning it as hard as I could, eventually I heard the water running through the pipes stop, and so did the yelling.

I backed up pulling myself out from the cupboard, I sat still on my knees before hulling myself up, water dripping off me and onto the floor where it merged with the already formed puddle, I flicked my wet hair from my face and wiped the water droplet away, I turned to where Namjoon was. His hand was still holding the tap, but as I gave it a closer look I noticed, it’s bent, when he held on to it to try and ‘stop’ the water, it bent under his strength.

Shaking the thought, I looked up at him, he looked horribly guilty and embarrassed, his eyes met mine for a brief second before he averted his gaze to look down. I turned behind me to see Seokjin.

He was protecting the food.

He had moved the cream and pancakes to the other end of the kitchen bench and was standing in front of them. This caused a smile to spread on my lips, followed by a giggle which erupted into laughter at the situation, it didn’t take too long before I heard some of the other boys laughing too.

I turned back to Namjoon reaching for the two broken pieces of my once working tap. “Y/n, I’m sorry- “

“It’s fine, really.” I gave him a kind and playful smile. “I see why Seokjin didn’t want you in the kitchen now.”

Everyone seemed to giggle at that. “I’ll call a maintenance worker tomorrow to come by and fix it. It’s okay.” I said again taking the broken piece and placing it into the sink before tapping Namjoon on the shoulder then turning back to Seokjin and grabbing the food.

“Everyone still hungry?”

The cool metal met with my finger as it lit up underneath it, I pressed the down button for the elevator, I was on my way to Jiyoon’s for the ointment that Namjoon and some of the other boys needed. Jiyoon lived three floors down and on the other side of the building, we often spent time together so asking her to borrow something was no big deal, I even brought her some left over muffins from the shop. Jungkook kept complaining, saying that we needed to keep them, and he wouldn’t let me take many, so I settled on chocolate ones since none of the boys will eat them.

The elevator arrived and the door opened, inside I saw a worker, stepping in and pressing the right floor the elevator doors began closing and the soft music filed my ears, glancing over the other person, I recognised them.

“Oh, hey, Chaeryeong.” I said to her, the elevator began moving going down slowly.

“Hey, Y/n, how’re you doing?” She asked me, a polite smile on her face.

“I’m doing well, this rain is crazy right? They think it’ll be another week before it stops.”

She hummed, acknowledging what I said before looking back down at her cart, it fell into comfortable silence before the elevator dinged, looking up I saw I had reach Jiyoon’s floor, the doors opened and I stepped out giving Chaeryeong a small wave which she returned, muttering a quiet farewell.

I made my way down the carpeted hallway looking for the right number of her apartment, counting them as I went 35, 36, 37, 38…

Ah, here it is.

The golden number reflected on the light shining behind me, I had messaged her before to let her know I’d be over today, knocking on the door I heard a quite ‘coming!’ from behind it followed by footsteps.

The door swung open, behind it stood Jiyoon, short frame accompanied by light brown almost reddish hair, styled in her usual way with her thin bangs, her hair ended just below her shoulders, her typical bright smile with her bunny teeth and her large eyes looking right at me. Recognising who I was, she opened the door further before wrapping an arm around me giving me a half hug which I returned. Before we had even said anything to each other she had ushered me inside and closed the door behind me.

Her apartment was similar to mine, but rather than two bedrooms she only had one, turning to face her I spoke first as she made her way to her kitchen with the container I handed to her and I went to go sit at her small coffee table, decorated with her magazines and paper weights, and a small plant. We fell into casual conversation about things that were going on in our own lives, Jiyoon mentioned that she was doing well in her art classes and had even managed to sell a few pieces to her colleagues at work, I was telling her about how we’re thinking of redecorating the café and briefly mentioned how my sink was broken.

“Thank you so much Jiyoon.” I said thanking her as she passed me the ointment I needed for Namjoon and the other boys. It had been well over an hour since I left and the boys would be getting worried by now, time flies when you’re chatting with a good friend.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll swing by and get it back later.” She assured me. “I’ll see you around! Oh, and let me know how the café redecorating goes if you do it, I’d be happy to give you some paintings to hang up.” She beamed as she waved goodbye to me down the hall.

“Bye!” I yelled down at her waving aggressively before turning and stepping into the elevator that had arrived, no one else was in this one, as the door closed, and music filled my ears, I started humming along before the elevator started moving back up to my floor.

“Stop moving or I’ll- “

“This is a tiny bathroom! There’s no room in here.”

“Yeah, well I- “

Before I could tell Namjoon off for moving around while I was trying to disinfect his chest, he quickly grabbed my arms and lifted me up, spinning us both around so he was now facing the mirror, but he didn’t stop there, lifting me slightly higher before dropping me on to the counter and letting go. He didn’t say anything and just kept looking forwards like I had told him too before.

“Well, I-I guess this works too.” I mumbled out trying to look down as much as I could to avoid him seeing my red face. The runny brown ointment started running down from one of his cuts, I quickly caught it with one of the rags that I had with me, I kept dabbing the liquid onto his wounds using a cotton bud, every time the ointment came in contact with a new wound Namjoon would flinch in pain, I felt bad, but it needed to be done.

“Sorry, but on the bright side, it doesn’t look like there will be many scars, maybe just a few.” I paused, my fingers hovering over and tracing the areas as I spoke. “Here, here, and maybe here.” I smiled looking up at him, as I was looking at where he might develop some scars I noticed some that were already there, most of them seemed to be fairly old, he grunted at what I said and shuffled slightly before looking away.

He’s mad at me again?

I grabbed the bandages that were beside me as I started to wrap them over his chest, I could feel him glaring down at me, this time the wrapping was more cleanly done and not messy, but this time he was also fully conscious and standing, I wrapped over them all twice, before finishing up and clipping the end to the rest of the bandage, Namjoon seemed to scoff at how much care I put into making sure the bandages were wrapped correctly, which took extra time.

Looks like we’re back to square one.

I looked up at Namjoon, patting his shoulder and letting him know I was done, he muttered something before turning and heading to the door, I watched him open it and walk out as I began packing up the kit and popping the lid back on to the ointment. I was about to hop off the basin before I heard some talking and then someone’s loud voice which was followed by loud footsteps.

The downstairs couple are going to hate me. I thought sighing and looking down.

“My turn!”

As soon as I heard the voice, a body came barrelling through the door, almost running in to the shower, as quick as it had come in the room, it had shut the door, locked it, and leaned against it before slumping halfway to the ground. I could hear some yelling and knocking from the other side of the door which seemed to die down upon realising it had been locked, the figure turns to me, a giddy smile on their face, I couldn’t really see his eyes as his long hair covered the top of his face, hanging down over them, shadowing it, his position and expression made him look like he could have been from a horror movie, if it weren’t for his boyish nature, he hauled himself up before making his way over to the basin where I was still sitting.

“Taehyung?” I started giggling at his antics as he made his way over to me. “Hmm, I should probably touch up your wounds too.” I explained as the thought came to me, thankfully Jimin and Yoongi didn’t need me to apply any ointment or rewrap bandages, they both just needed to rest. Taehyung’s gummy smile took over his features as he stood closer to me, I opened up the ointment again, grabbing a clean cotton bud I stuck it in the bottle and started dabbing at the wound on his lip, he winced a bit, but kept his eyes on me the whole time.

“Are you just going to stare at me the whole time?”

He looked up and to the side, making a thinking face before facing me again, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Yes.”

The room erupted into our giggles, the sound filling all the corners of the room making it feel more alive. When I was ready to start cleaning up his eyebrow, I moved his hair out of the way, but it fell right back into place on his forehead. Sighing, I moved it again, but it went straight back to where it was, I tried a few more times before giving up and thinking of a better solution.

I grabbed a headband I had laying around for when I moisturised and quickly slipped it over his head before pulling it back up again, pushing his hair back, he overreacted, throwing his head about as if I had been throwing his head around like it were a ball and I were an energetic puppy trying to kill the rounded object, finally all his hair was out of the way, and I could clean up his eyebrow.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you like us staying here?”

His question made me stop what I was doing, I moved my hands away from his face and brought them to my lap, looking into his eyes. “Of course, I do! My apartment has never felt so alive. I’m happy you guys are here and not out in the rain on the streets. While you’re here this is your home too, so feel free to do what you like, just don’t put any holes in my walls.” I said giggling at the last part and giving him a kind smile which he returned.

Most of his cuts around his eyes weren’t overly deep and had almost healed themselves by now, so it didn’t take too long to patch him up, I jumped down from the basin and tidied up the area putting things away and such, as well as throwing out the old bandages and used cotton buds, when all was done, I headed back outside into the kitchen area.

Most of the boys were already in bed by now as it was getting late, I could see over on the couch Namjoon had a book from my shelf that he was reading, but he didn’t seem too happy about it, Yoongi was already asleep, and Seokjin and Hoseok were chatting about something I couldn’t quite make out, glancing into the spare room where Taehyung had gone to after leaving the bathroom, the three boys were sprawled out on the bed watching something on the tv, their laughter and bright smiles filled my heart with warmth like no other.

I did my usual routine of turning off all the lights, but before I turned off the loungeroom light I switched on the lamp so Namjoon wouldn’t be in complete darkness.  I quickly checked that anything from the kitchen had been put away before grabbing a glass and filling it with water to take to bed, as I made my way over to my room, I turned around facing the boys.

“Goodnight, guys!”

Various “Goodnight, Y/n!” ‘s and “Sleep well!” ‘s filled my ears as I turned and entered into my own room to sleep for the night.

The slight pitter patter of rain drops hitting against my window had lulled me to sleep last night, they continued up till this morning, the rain was lighter right now than it had been during the middle of the night. I rolled on to my side, facing wall opposite my window, dragging the heavy blanket with me, due to the new position I had to readjust my pillow, I sat up and turned behind me grabbing the pillow, fluffing it and placing it back down, I turned back around before flopping back on to my bed and snuggling into the blankets, not at first noticing the strange figure situated at the end on my bed.

I snuzzled back into my pillow, moulding it into the shape of my face and pulling the blanket up to my ears making sure there were no openings as to stop the cold air from infiltrating my warm blanket cocoon. Just as I had relaxed into my new position my tired brain caught up with my sight, my eyes snapped open.

There’s someone in my room.

Without thinking I immediately sat up facing the end of the bed, pulling my blanket up to my face, gasping loudly as I did so, his eyes widened, his mouth pulled into a line, he looked like a deer in headlights, frozen in one spot, like if he didn’t move I wouldn’t see him, I tried rubbing my eyes to get a better look at the man.

“Taehyung?” I asked squinting my eyes at the figure, it was definitely Taehyung, the panther ears and tail accompanied by his baggy clothing and his brown bed hair that sat on his head. At my words he stood up fully, a gummy smile on his face as he stepped closer to the bed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He said before glancing over to the balcony my eyes following his. “I was just trying to get to your balcony, it has a better view, and the other one is covered in plants.”

I looked back over to Taehyung where I had now noticed that he was holding in one hand a large white canvas and in the other a painting bag, they were mine from about a year ago, Jiyoon was trying to teach me how to paint, I remember when I showed her, she told me ‘That’s a nice vase.’ I frowned and told her ‘It was a cat…’.

“O-oh, I see.” I smiled at him, I snatched the keys off my bedside table tossing them over to him, he smiled at me again before unlocking and opening the door and heading outside before closing it again to keep the cold air and rain out. I watched him for a little bit, setting up his painting supplies, and finding the right place and angle to prop up the canvas, he just started sketching so I had no clue what it could be, I was tempted to keep watching, but I didn’t want to come across as creepy, and there was no point in going back to sleep now as I was already awake, so I slipped out of bed and made my way to my bathroom and started getting ready for the day.

I spent most of the day trying to get a hold of maintenance, and finally after many hours, probably 17 phone calls and at one point being put on hold for almost two hours, only for when I got through some robotic voice tells me that ‘They will return your call later.’, I was finally able to talk to someone and organise for the sink to be fixed tomorrow. So now I was relaxing in the loungeroom and chatting to some of the boys, Jungkook sat to my right and Hoseok and Yoongi sat with each other to the side of us.

“It’s getting cold, do you guys want a blanket?” I asked them, they seemed to agree with each other, so I went to grab two large blankets for the closet, I gave one to Yoongi before flopping back to my spot, I opened up the blanket and did my best to spread it out over me and Jungkook, but it wasn’t quite big enough.

“Jungkook move closer.” I said still trying to even out the bottom of the blanket, he didn’t move for a bit, but then he slowly moved himself closer to me. “Is that enough blanket?”

Jungkook looked the other way to see the blanket, but I already moved myself backwards and towards him more so that the blanket would also be roomy, Yoongi and Hoseok were entangled with each other and their blanket, now everyone was warm.

“Hey, Jungkook, can I- uh, touch your ears?” Jungkook seemed surprised at my request, his face turned red as he looked down.

Was that insensitive?

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have asked, j-just forget about it.” I said embarrassed, shaking my hands about, worried that I might have offended him I tried to divert my eye contact away from him, hoping someone would change the subject.

“N-no, it’s okay, here” I turned to Jungkook as he spoke, he smiled showing off his bunny teeth and looked me in the eye before leaning forwards and looking down, so the top of his head was right in front of me, I lifted my hand from my lap, but hesitated about touching them. “It’s okay, really.” Jungkook assured me, so I moved my hand towards his head.

His dark bunny ears were the softest thing I had ever touched, the were silky smooth and fluffy, I moved one hand under them and one on top, the white in the middle was like a cloud, Jungkook seemed to flinch when I touched the white part, so I moved my hands to another area.

“Woah, they’re so soft Jungkook.” I said as I kept running my hand along the back side of one of his ears before swapping over to the other ear, I kept running my hands over them and eventually starting to softly scratch them towards the base, Jungkook shifted slightly when I moved my hands so, I retracted them back in front of me.

Jungkook let out an almost whine before moving himself towards me, I took this as a sign to put my hands back on his ears and continue, I placed my hands back onto his head and resumed my movements from before except one hand I used to comb through his hair while the other kept lightly scratching around his ears, running my hands through Jungkook’s hair I caught more tangles than expected, I hadn’t notice before because he was keeping his hair tied back. Gently, I began to untangle bits of his hair, but after a while Jungkook seemed to start shuffling around a bit, I took notice of his position before moving away slightly and adjusting myself, I told Jungkook to move closer to me and lay down a bit, so he was more comfortable, my hands naturally found a pattern of detangling his hair and adding small braids here and there.

We all fell into small talk as I kept playing with Jungkook’s hair, Jungkook stayed quiet for the most part except for the occasionally whine or grunt which usually made me and Hoseok giggle, Yoongi and Hoseok seemed to keep sparing glances at each other, but I figured it wasn’t any on my business.

Hoseok hummed before talking again. “Did you sleep well? I heard Taehyung was in your room this morning?”

I felt Jungkook shift on my lap as though he was now paying attention to the conversation. “Oh yeah, he was just trying to use my balcony for some painting he was doing, something about a better view and more room than the other balcony.” I said haphazardly pointing a finger over to the other balcony which was mostly filled with plants before going back to the braid I was in the middle of. “I slept well. I haven’t asked, but how’s the couch going?”

“It’s going- “

“There’s not enough space.”

I looked over to Yoongi who had spoken, as did Hoseok and Jungkook, Yoongi looked at Hoseok and they seemed to have a bit of a stare off before Hoseok spoke up. “It’s good, thank you for letting us use it.”

Despite Hoseok’s kind words, I couldn’t help but feel bad after what Yoongi had said, he was right though, four grown men on one couch, granted it was large, but not that large. “Sorry, I didn’t really prepare sleeping places for you guys, if I could I’d give you my room but there still wouldn’t be enough room for everyone.” I said to them, Yoongi and Hoseok seemed to share a look before I asked them. “Is it uncomfortable to sleep on?”

“It’s not bad, better than what we’re used to at least, I can get a bit more sleep now, but I wouldn’t call it quality sleep” Hoseok explained, Yoongi nodding in the background. I smiled knowing that it at least it wasn’t too uncomfortable.

“I swear, if Jin kicks me while he’s sleeping again, I will go sleep on the balcony.”

We all laughed at what Yoongi said, even Jungkook laughed too, we sat around on the couch talking for a bit and eventually Jimin and Seokjin joined our conversation too, Jimin seemed a bit tense when he spotted me and Jungkook on the couch and he came and sat right next to me as he usually did, but he seemed to sit really close to my right despite having more room and kept glaring at Jungkook’s head as I kept playing with his hair.

At some point I started working on my laptop, checking some resumes for people who had applied for a job a few months ago but didn’t get it at the time and going through what was eventually going to be a new menu, it was still missing a few items that needed to be added, I always make the option first to see if it turns out well and if it’s viable for the cafe.

So far, the search for people who were still interested in the job was not going well, most people emailed back saying that they had already found another job or are no longer looking for one, sighing, I decided to close down the laptop and try again when the shops back open.

Needing a break, I slid out from the blankets and excused myself from the group, I stood up and made my way into my room, where Taehyung was still on the balcony. I opened the sliding door behind him, he didn’t notice me at first, but as I stood closer, he seemed to notice my presence, I glanced at his painting, taking it in, it had a bright pink background and the outline of a face.

“Abstract, I like it. You’re good at this.” I complimented him, I didn’t want to say much as to not ‘disrupt his flow’, Jiyoon said I did that a lot to her.

“Thank you, is everything okay?” He asked without looking behind him.

“Yeah, just need a break, some fresh air.” I smiled, not that he could see it. “Can I sit out here with you?” I said to him, looking over at the spare chair at the other end of the balcony.

He nodded his head, and I mumbled a small ‘thanks’ before taking a seat in the other chair, I watched Taehyung do more of his painting before focusing my attention of the view from my balcony, the rain wasn’t too heavy, but the thunder and lightning was getting worse, most news channels said that it would get worse than this in the next day or so. My eyes felt heavy, but I stayed outside with Taehyung occasionally engaging in conversation with him before switching back to doing my own thing.

I must have dozed off while outside with Taehyung and slept until the morning, when I came to, I was in my bed but still in my day clothes, slowly waking up from my slumber, I cracked my eyes open, the blankets must have gotten tangled as on one side they seemed to tower over me, I moved slightly, readjusting my body as I was feeling uncomfortably hot under the blankets, I tried moving over into a cooler spot of sheets but the bed was still too hot, I kept moving and wiggling trying to find a better area of blanket and sheets so my body wouldn’t be smothered in heat, but everywhere under the blankets was hot.

Why is it so damn hot?!

A/n: Another Chapter is out! This was the first chapter that I planned out before writing, I hit all the points I needed to get and all the small details that need to be added, I tried my best with the fluff, let me know what you think. I told you I would make up for the other chapter! I genuinely didn’t mean for it to be 5k almost 6k words though, this was 2 chapters, but the second one was too short and felt kind of flat, so I joined them, again I’m so sorry for not updating for weeks, I wanted to write so badly, but I just couldn’t. I’m really trying to get further into the plot now, and actually have more things happen, I’m aiming to get 1hr of writing most days and I’m thinking of maybe working on multiple projects? I’ve kind of started the Jimin oneshot I had in my brain, so hopefully I’ll finish that up soon. I’m trying to do more foreshadowing/ hinting of things, like the boy’s tragic backstories and why they were in the alley. If you have anything specific you’d like to see in this series PLEASE, let me know and I’ll see what I can do, reading the feedback on my posts is literally the highlight of my day, and I love seeing what you guys are thinking about it! (I don’t think she’ll read this but thank you to my friend for helping me out when I needed it, love ya!) I hope everyone has a great day or night & Thankyou all for reading! 💜

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ PSYCHO KILLER

tw slasher!mattsun, final girl!reader, noncon, coercion, size kink, cevix fucking, fear play, blood play, cutting/marking, he uses a knife on reader, degradation, spanking, manhandling, forced cheating, murder mentions, mattsun's giant cock wordcount. 5.6k

a/n. another commission from an anonymous amazing person so make sure to say thank youuu to them!!! this time we got matTSUnnnn and omg this was such a blast to write anD AAHHH i hope you enjoy it and that it fuels your slasher fucker urge a little bit, thank you so so much for commissioning me again and hERe she is!!

You never really thought much about mortality, before. But the flashing lights reflected on the brick walls, red blue, red blue, red blue, and the wailing of the sirens, paint a haunting picture. One that even someone positive, bright-eyed and preppy like you feels down to the bone. You have the displeasure of standing with wide eyes, hands stiff and shaky from the evening chill, as the armed men move people out of the way and the person from the alley towards the ambulance; and though you’re across the street— you can tell. 

The way onlookers cover their mouths and gasp and try to unsee as the stretcher passes by them doesn’t paint a promising picture. Your spine feels all flimsy the longer you stand, one hand wrapped frozen around your bag of groceries, apartment only a few blocks away. It’s in the way the senior police officer glances around the blocked off street and tells a passer-by to hurry home or to move along, and the yellow tape keeping the alleyway separate as it trembles rapidly and noisily in the wind. You take a deep breath against the sudden chill that travels all the way down your body, and pick your heels up to walk back.

Back down the opposite way and to the blue lit 24h corner store you left mere minutes ago. The melody of the store chime is comforting, and you speed walk all the way down the aisle back to the register. The charming, delicate features of the young man across from you light up when he properly looks up, and he tilts his head much like a curious animal- one brow raising. “Babe? You’re back?”

“I’m waiting out your shift here,” you softly declare, sneaking back behind the counter where you usually dare steal a few kisses, and dragging out a shitty, plastic chair to rest your head to his hip as he blinks down at you in confusion. Eventually though, Haru just nods, his honey brown hair falling a little further over his brows when he leans down to brush his hand over your head.

“Okay. You alright?” You nod, and he doesn’t ask more— and eventually you two fall back into conversation, only stopping every so often to serve the scarce customer. When you two walk back home in the early hours of the morning, the people have gone, but the yellow tape still stings as you pass the quiet street.

+

The apartment smells of the cheapest of Chinese takeout when you drag yourself back inside late from work. Your boyfriend just barely peeks his head around the corner to come give you a kiss, gentle as he is, and slides back into his spot behind the stove. “Food’s here, and I’m just making some extra eggs for mine, because I gotta leave in half an hour.” The routine ramble is nice, you suppose, finding a smile on your face by the time you make it into the kitchen with him to wrap your arms around his back, and he hums. “Oh, one of your friends swung by, so I let him in a little bit ago- I left him on the couch.”

Haru’s hands are quick to pull you back when you let go, for just a second, as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, and one to your nose. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too. I’m gonna go see who needs me- real quick,” you smile, “and then we eat together?”

“Mhm, perfect.”

The door out of the small kitchen leads into the main room, and you look around as you swing your bag over one of the chairs- but find the space strangely vacant. Though a small pout comes to your lips, you just walk along, passing by the desk with stacks of books and lecture notes, to pull open the door to your bedroom. Your house simply isn’t big enough to lose anyone even if you wanted to. The bedroom lights are off, as you step inside, toes curling instinctively into the carpet; before finally clearing your voice. “Hello?”

At the very moment you turn, the tiny door to the bathroom swings open and a tall shape clad in all black steps out— and you jerk with a loud gasp, only to start laughing when your hands meet his chest and you glance up properly. Matsukawa’s dark eyebrows are furrowed in surprise as he finishes drying off his hands, before he gives you a ‘what gives’ sort of look. “You scared me,” you chuckle, as you lean in to give him a hug. “It’s been a while, how are you? And why’d you swing by?” The way he manages to move his arm over your head without having to change positions to throw the paper towel into the trash isn’t lost on you.

“Can’t a guy come see his favorite ethics tutor on a tuesday?” The familiar deep rumble of his voice fills the room, and you make room to trail back to the couch.

“Well, considering I dropped out,” your voice is a little softer when you take a seat in the squeaky chair, “I’d say that it’s probably a waste of your time. But I guess I’m pretty glad to see you again.”

Mattsun plops down on the couch facing you with a little sigh, before that same self assured smile you’ve always known him to have returns. “Don’t make me feel too special, teach.”

“I’m younger than you! It’s not my fault you took ethics again and needed my help.” The banter is nice, reminds you about the hours and hours spent in the library that always grew too rowdy for a study session. Mattsun’s a good friend. A better one than you are, maybe. His long legs stretch out to the coffee table, before he nods.

“This is a nice place. Cozy.” The compliment makes you feel all warm inside. Despite everything, despite the struggles you and Haru have to deal with, the money, the debt- it’s nice to hear someone appreciate it. Even if that someone is the most well accomplished out of your late friend group. “And the boyfriend seems pretty fucking smitten too.” His dark eyes find your face when you smile wider, lacing his hands together over his knee. “Nothing to add? Come on, I missed you so~ much. I haven’t even seen you properly for the last 4 months. Talk to me. You normally don’t hesitate to run your mouth.” He chuckles when you put on a faux-pout.

“Fine, fine, hang on!” you beam after a second of thinking, and roll your eyes. “Let me make a pot of coffee. You jerk.”

“You love it.”

+

You aren’t the most observant of people, but you swear… you’re losing more shit than normal. Some of the stuffies that were proudly displayed on the shelves are gone, and you can’t find some of your panties no matter how hard you look. And while the small closet in the bedroom is more mess than order, now you can’t even find most of your old photo albums, and some keepsakes from highschool and uni. But with your boyfriend catching his sleep when you leave for work, and you returning late- no one has time to go looking for clothing that’s grown legs, let alone do a thorough clean. So you brush it aside, and move on without your favorite pair of lacy baby blue panties.

It’s only when your boyfriend’s watching the news on his laptop one day, that it tickles something in the back of your brain. As you stuff another bite of pasta into your face, your hands still on top of the unfolded laundry.

A feminine voice flies over the topics at breakneck speed, as the honey brunet suddenly turns up the volume a little and stops eating. “Yesterday, another casualty in a devastating string of murders was found. Passerby’s found the body walking by an alley in Miyagi prefecture at around 9pm. The victim has now been identified to be Kawada Eiko, the 25 year old nurse that was reported missing a few days ago. Strangulation or suffocation are the two current debated causes of death, authorities say. She might have been the unfortunate victim of a lover’s spat, as she was found with blue panties constricting her airways. More about this at 6.”

“Turn that down,” you quickly breathe, and Haru turns over his shoulder with concern in his eyes.

“Oh, sorry. ‘S a bit grim for lunch…” He simply gives you an understanding look, before suddenly turning to knock his knees with yours. “How about you pick something to watch? Here.” His hands reach out to pull you a little closer, and cradle you against his chest. It’s sweet. He always is. And though you nuzzle into his touch, the story doesn’t want to leave your brain. There it is again. That faint flicker of mortality staring you in the face.

+

The stern face of the police officer- burly, heavy mustache and old- is exactly how you imagine it’d be, made very clear by the dead-like tone and eyes as he gives you an up and down. “This your house?”

“R-rented, yes,” you’re in the pajama-est of clothes from when you pulled open the door, “of me and my boyfriend.” The officer gives a tiny nod to the other two men behind him, and pulls out his badge to present it to you. It’s too early for your brain to function properly, but you still swallow at the sudden severity of the situation. “What’s- the issue, officer?” Your voice sounds even mousier when his eyes narrow in on the scene behind him, and your measly apartment feels even more inferior than usual.

“Sasaki Haru’s been arrested and is currently being questioned for multiple accounts of aggravated assault and first-degree murder. And we have to search the property, young lady.”

You stop breathing.

Murder.

Your head thumps, and you feel a flare of heat bite at your neck, clutching the door handle a little tighter.

Murder, he said. Haru… arrested for murder.

“We’ll have to take you in for questioning as well. Why don’t you walk towards the car and have my colleague escort you—” You focus as hard as you can on the words that are thrown at you, but really, nothing hits. There’s a blanket of static over everything in your vision. You might puke.

+

“Hey, breathe out. You’re turning blue,” Mattsun’s deep voice washes over you like a wave as you clamp the phone to your chest and try your best to relax a little, a warm, heavy hand softly stroking the area between your shoulders. It’d been a total coincidence that he’d called just as you were done with the hours of terrifying questioning, but as soon as you’d sniffled out that Haru had been arrested, he took time off to come over. Here you are now, hovering between sleep and frightened awareness in the painful, sticky seats of one of the dead waiting halls.

And though you’re glad someone’s here for you, because Haru’s parents haven’t even called yet— you’re also a little too wired up to appreciate the sarcasm and jokey attitude. After another few minutes of nervously fiddling with your phone and staring through the small window at the other doors, Mattsun clears his voice. “So… murder, huh.” His dark eyes are intense as they flutter over your face, eyebrows straightened. “Do you think he did it?”

You find yourself glaring, even though you can’t say why. “No, of course not. He’d never. He’s… he’s so gentle—”

“They’re saying there’s evidence, y’know.” You know that. It makes you want to rip out your hair and sob, because they showed you the proof. The dna, a kitchen knife out of your drawers, traces of the perfume you always, always wear— but you can’t shake the feeling that only if you could talk to Haru, if you could see him, ask… Your intuition tells you he didn’t do it. Couldn’t have. And they’re wrong, they have to be wrong. You would’ve known if you’d been living with a murderer. You would’ve. You just have to wait for an alibi to show it.

“He didn’t do it, Issei,” you softly end up repeating, and Mattsun’s eyes basically roll themselves as he looks away. “I’m telling you, I know him, and he didn’t do it.”

“Maybe- you just don’t know people as well as you think you do, teach,” the brunet places his elbows on his knees, covering his mouth as he leans in as glances over at you. “You’re wonderful, ‘n smart, and kind. But you’re also naïve, baby…” The last word falls deeper, and drags a cold shiver up your spine that only gets more intense when he doesn’t laugh it off, or look away. Luckily though, the door to the waiting room is pushed open that very moment, and a tired looking woman taps her clipboard.

“You can go home for now. Get some rest. And please stay available so that if we need you to return-”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” you start, and wring your sweaty hands together a few times, “what about Haru?”

Her sharp eyes soften a little when finding your face. “He’ll have to stay until they’re done with the investigation. It might be another couple hours, or days. He can’t see anyone until then.” Your dejection must show, because she sighs. “Head home, child. Try to sleep some. You’ll be okay.” You barely manage to have enough energy to get out of the chair, letting Mattsun take your hand and rub a few comforting circles into it with his thumb. And then you’re walking home as he holds the umbrella high above your heads, and that cold only worsens. You don’t feel okay.

It just doesn’t make any sense.

“How about my place instead of yours?” Issei’s more reserved when he asks, laying an arm over your shoulders to pull you into his side a little. “Doubt you wanna hang out there now that the cops have gone through it all.” It doesn’t matter, really, so you nod- let him walk along the crosswalk and steer you down the familiar streets in silence for a while. It really doesn’t make any sense. Haru’s been at work all evenings that the murders happened, there’s security cameras to prove it. And killing someone in broad daylight, alley or not— it doesn’t line up.

Issei squeezes your hand in his when the silence continues, and you briefly look up at him to give him a little smile that doesn’t feel like it reaches. “Sorry I’m so quiet. I’m just…”

“Lost in thought, I get it.” He hums, before pointing at the long line of buildings. “It’s just along there, we’re almost inside. Then we can talk about it, or you can take a load off, or whatever.” The short chuckle is meant to disperse the tension, you know that, but even the tall brunet seems on edge. You’re still holding his hand, and you find yourself blinking at it in quiet confusion. But the thoughts are louder than logic right now. And if Haru didn’t do it, which you will yourself to believe with all your heart —you have no choice but to— how the hell did stuff out of your house get to the scene of the crime. You never lended anyone that knife, and definitely not the even more private stuff—

Issei leads you through the gates into the courtyard of the apartment, then to the door, into the dim staircase all the while softly humming. And you don’t know why your heart sinks as you climb the stairs with him in tow, because the building smells nice, and the walk to the door is clean and high-class. “Tch, you really are,” his low voice barely reaches, and you raise a brow. “Naïve that is.” The humming goes into a soft laugh when you turn to look at him, and the tall man smiles down at you. But though he’s smiling, the hairs on your neck go to stand on end, shoulders squaring. The vivid, unnatural sort of intensity in his eyes rolls your stomach.

And you go to pull your hand out of his, only for Issei to resist the pull harder. “Shh, calm down. I got you, don’t I? Don’t tell me I scare you.” He does, though. “Come on, princess, we’re friends. And friends are there for friends when they need each other. Now you're poor boyfriend's gone.” Your mouth corners turn down into a half pout, half open in confusion. And you don’t know why, you never felt unsafe with him before— but every fiber in your body is screaming at you to run. You want to. But your body refuses to budge, let alone turn your back on him. Issei’s always been a very tall guy. Tall, but wired with athletic muscles from the years of sports, and strong, and fast— and all of these things never scared you.

But they do now. The shivers that roll down your spine are almost painful as you stare up at him and that happy-go-lucky grin still stays on. The corners of your eyes sting when you try again to pull away, to no avail, and Issei’s long legs pull you towards the door of his fancy apartment anyway.

“Issei, let go.” Your voice breaks, and tears creep up in your eyes and your shaky whimper. “This isn’t funny, let me go.”

“Nah ah, I got something to show you.” His casual sing-song response almost makes you angry. But you can’t be when you’re too busy fighting off a full-body panic and planting your heels into the tiled floor. “I got something to show you,” he repeats, glancing over his shoulder again. “Y’see, because I really like you. You make me feel all- hm- good inside.” His curly hair bounces with each step towards the door, before he repositions his grip to hold around your wrist when your sweaty hand almost manages to slip out. “But then you went and got a boyfriend, and disappeared on me.”

He fiddles with the keys for a second as you use your other hand and try to pry your fingers into his painfully tight hold, and frowns. “And I- stop struggling- I don’t blame you. I mean- it’s not like I can even explain this little earworm I’ve got. About how you and I just fit together. I should know better, right?” He’s rambling so fast, and the door manages to be swung open, and you bite back a sob. You want to scream. You want to scream, call out for help, do something other than get pulled in further and further, but it doesn’t work. Your body refuses. Your head’s blank. “I know I should know better. Yet here we are.”

He pulls with his entire body to get you over the doorstep, and grabs your face between his hands to aim it up to his, squishing your cheeks until your lips are a puckered pout. And his deep voice goes low as he whispers. “You didn’t like my little stunt with the panties?”

It short circuits you. Before you get to think about it, you knee him right in the dick with all your might, and push at his face until he jerks back— turning and sprinting back towards the door. But his reach is longer, and he tackles your feet, sending you straight onto your belly with a loud, unforgiving thump as your head knocks against one of the book cases, and his large hands wrap around your ankles. He pulls you back a few feet across the floor, and though you try to kick at him, he’s quick to get above you and restrain you.

”Help!” you squeak, voice more air than actual sound. “Help me!” Issei grabs you by your neck and kicks the door closed with his long legs, before going to sit on top of your back and squeezing the air out of your lungs.

“Awww, fuck, babe,” he groans for a long breath, before grabbing your head and pushing it down into the cold floor as if in punishment. The loud knock of your skull against the floor is enough to force your thoughts out of you. “That really hurts, fuck.” Then he shifts, one hard knee in the middle of your back. You can barely breathe, and the little bit of air you do get is obstructed by the tears blurring your vision. “Little kitty’s got claws, huh.”

“Issei,” you start to whimper through your hickuppy breaths when his palm slides down your neck and under the edge of your shirt, “please let me go. We’re friends. We’re friends, right? So let me go home, and I won’t tell anyone.I swear, I won’t- wo- please, please, ‘ssei.”

“Tch, don’t go begging on me yet, baby. I’ve hardly even started.” His large hands roam around your skin for a moment, before he rolls you over like you’re a ragdoll, and grabs your face again as he bends down until your noses are touching. Him, overtop of you, his free hand training down the surface of your thigh through your sweatpants.

His dark eyes glitter in the low light, animated and joyful despite the way you’re trying to calm your wheezes. Which doesn’t really help. The harder you try, the less air you manage to use— Mattsun’s heavy palm sliding to your throat to squeeze the tender skin there. “Hey, guess what.” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, before he starts picking anxiously at the stretchy band of your pants, sliding two fingers under it. “you turn me on so much it makes me want to fuck you until you’re raw. But you might’ve guessed that already, right?” There’s a low chuckle, while you’re sniveling under him with wet cheeks and a hot face, before he starts tugging your pants down your thighs.

You cross your arms over your face, and Issei laughs a little harder. “Aww, don’t cry. I know what you’re thinking, all the murdering and stuff, the blood, the choking, cutting open— it’s a lot. But luckily for you… all of that isn’t going to happen to you. Look, here-” he mumbles, pulling your arms away from in front of your eyes to force your smaller hand back in his, linking pinkies, “promise. They weren’t you, so I had to get rid of them sooner rather than later.”

By the time he finishes talking, you’re shivering without your pants, on his cold floor and tears all over your face- and for a moment Issei looks like the guy you knew when he pouts down at you. But then he licks his lips, and the relief is gone. “And you get I can’t let you go after this. So it’ll be easier for both of us if you play along.”

Then he gives you a once over like you’re a slab of meat, and hums, whispering under his breath. “I like when they play along.” It makes you cry harder, but barely any noise manages to come out, staring resolutely at the ceiling as soon as his hand lets your chin go to trail his fingertips along your tits. “So fucking pretty, baby.” The lilt of barely veiled excitement in his voice makes you want to sink into the floor, to just stop breathing altogether. You trusted him implicitly, and- though your skin is covered in goosebumps, it barely sets in that Issei was the one who— 

You remember the disemboweled girl on the stretcher, the yellow tape. And bile rises in your throat, so you have to put a hand over your mouth not to throw up. Oh god, you’re… You’re cold on the floor, your tits being gently squeezed by Mattsun’s large, rough hands through your shirt as you try to make your mind go anywhere else, to no avail. Suddenly he gets up on his knees to slide his arms under you, and you start struggling against him enough to make him glare down at you. “Don’t be a brat. If you want me to-”

“Let me go, Issei! Let go, let go!” You’re squished to his chest, but you manage to smack him across the face and get a little bit of wiggle room, and he lets out a low rumble of displeasure, before dragging you further into the house and tossing you down onto the bed. It’s even darker here, smelling faintly of spices and men’s shampoo- but that isn’t what frightens you. It’s the heavy duty cuffs dangling from the metal bedposts, and the way Mattsun grabs a fistful of your hair to yank your head back into the bed.

“Don’t move. Unless you want me to get mad.” The painful tug makes you whimper, but you find yourself trying to slide out the other side of the bed as he bends to search through one of the bedside tables. Your legs are going a bit numb, toes tingly as you dare brush your feet along the floor and make a run for it. Of course, you have to round the bed, and he doesn’t have much of a hard time grabbing the back of your shirt. With one stern move, he swings you over his shoulder, large hand palm landing so hard onto the soft skin of your ass it makes you gasp and tear up. The touch pulses and aches as he slaps the same spot again, and now you’re crying- this time from the stinging of your skin as he tosses you down and forces your hand into sharp, cold handcuff.

His slight frown and the stern look he gives you make your body freeze up, but then he leans in. “You’re a dumb little baby, hm? You don’t get it?” His eyes are wide, pupils dark and blown all the way out to take up almost his entire iris. His hand appears from behind his back with something that glimmers in the low light, and is sharp as he pushes it to your cheek. “Not gonna play along?” The knife’s cold edge next to your ear makes you entirely wooden, staring up at him with shallow breaths and your lips trembling. As he peeks out his tongue, the knife digs deeper and breaks skin on your cheekbone.

And it hurts, clenching your teeth hard as tears spill over, it really fucking hurts. Burns, instantly making the skin feel taut and pounding and irritated. You gasp again, grabbing at his arm with a pitiful cry. “No, no, stop. Stop, please. I’ll play along,” you plead, voice hoarse as you clamp your hand around his wrist. The hot, searing feeling on your cheek and the way you feel blood run along your face and ear takes away all other rational thought. It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. You want it to stop. “Please. Please, ‘Ssei, please.” The knife’s edge tingles as it leaves your wound, but the pain doesn’t go away, and you can’t help but sob. “Mattsun~”

However pathetic you must look, Matsukawa clearly doesn’t care. Because he groans, before leaning in to press his tongue to your wound, and then kissing you. And the coppery taste makes him moan into your mouth, while you try to turn your head away instinctively. His tongue forces open your mouth and melts with yours, sloppily claiming your mouth with a soft hum, heavy, large body coming to cover yours. He’s everywhere, as he grinds his hips into your panty-clad center and licks your mixed spit off his lips when he pulls back, throwing his head back.

You’re feeling a bit lightheaded, one cheek pounding painfully as you stare at him, and your one arm slowly but surely going numb from the uncomfortable position. But as you’re looking at him, he quickly rids himself of his shirt, and scoots you up the bed a little to drape your legs over his thighs. Even in the half-dark room, you can see them. The scars on his shoulders, his chest, ugly lines that healed over sloppily— proof that someone dug some nails of a key so sharp into him. Fought, and lost. It only makes you take a deep breath that makes a pinched, little noise. And Mattsun grins, rubbing his one hand along the skin.

“They were never close enough to you, y’know? Always something missing.” His one hand goes back to your chest, playing with your pebbled nipples through the fabric, before the knife returns and he drags it across your chest this time, pressing hard enough to cut your shirt and also the thin skin of your breast bone. “Oops, sorry.” The thin line of dots of blood that beads up has him bending to run his tongue along the little wound again, before ripping the rest of your shirt apart and sucking your tits into his mouth too. The warm mouth paired with the painful stinging and aching of your body has your stomach flipping and your mind blank.

Your free hand runs along his head to grab his curls in support, and his moans before biting one of your nipples. Then he pulls back to slap your tits around a bit, and running his thumb over the wound. Seeing the red before he slips it into his mouth is enough to have you squeezing your eyes shut, trying to block everything out. And Issei chuckles. “Aw, scaring my little baby, am I?” The sound of his zipper and the shuffling of fabric lasts for a few seconds. Your heartbeat is so fucking loud, and the stinging is loud, and his voice is loud, and everything is so fuzzy. You open your eyes again, only to find that same disturbing look in Issei’s eyes as he rubs his thumb over the slit of his cock, spreading all the precum around.

There’s a lot, you notice, and also that his heavy, flushed cock is big. Really big, too big, making your breathing even more rapid. It’ll hurt. It’ll hurt, it’ll hurt, it’ll hurt— your mind blanks when he starts peeling off your panties and manhandles your legs around however he wants, before the thick head of his cock is lined up to your too-dry pussy. There’s some wetness there, but not enough. You tear up more, because of the hurt, the pain, the fear, your lungs aching and everything else- and shiver when Issei talks again.

His voice is low enough to shake your bones. “You’ll have to fit me, okay? Okay?” His sing-song teasing has you nodding your head, and he puts on a cheshire-like grin again. “Because when they didn’t, I had to cut them open to make room-” he points the knife into your lower stomach then, point stinging as soon as it touches and digs into your soft belly, “-and I don’t want to cut up my favorite girl.” His thumb rubs lazy circles into the top of your slit, brushing your clit, before he spits on it.

Then he lines up, and starts pushing into your tight, clenched pussy without giving you a second to prepare, placing both hands next to your head and pushing himself into you while each inch fills you up more and more. It’s such a painfully tight fit your legs shake as he pushes you all the way full, and keeps pushing. “Aw, aw, aw, Issei- hurts, that hurts-”

“Uhuh,” he just nods, and kisses you again, smiling into the kiss and pulling back to watch you tear up. He moves one leg to push against your chest, and starts grinding his cock even deeper, pushing you open too much, and you cry— only to make him pull back and do it again, groaning. “Ah, fuck, princess. Fuck-ing- godly pussy, agh.” His huge dick pounds against your cervix every time he pulls back and bottoms out, bulging your stomach in a way that hurts even despite the pleasure. But his body slamming against your pussy each time does feel good, as much as you hate to admit it. It sends tingles down your spine that makes you forget about the hurt you’re feeling. “Tell me it feels good, hm?”

He leans into kiss you again, before turning your face to the side to rub his finger along the bloody mess on your cheek and make it hurt again. “Tell Mattsun senpai that his cock’s your favorite. And I’ll make you come so hard you go cross-eyed.” The pounding of the sticky, warm blood and the skin that aches, the way he fills you, makes you feel it all the way in your throat, how loud your heartbeat is in your head and how your lungs fill only with shallow half-breaths, has you crying out long and hard, squeezing your fingers into his bicep.

“Mattsun senpai~ cock-ahg- hick- my favorite.” You’re not sure you recognize the way your voice sounds as you say it, getting your mouth full of his tongue again as you choke on it and the way he forces his cock through your cervix. Hurts, hurts, feels so good it aches. You can’t tell up from down when his fingers return between your bodies, and he jackhammers his fat cock through you.

“I know, baby. I know. S’all for you now. All yours.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[bumblesimagines]

i tried to keep feelings out of this. i really did.

that was the best night of my life.

- Bucky Barnes

that was the best night of my life.

i tried to keep feelings out of this. i really did.

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, GN!Reader

The sizzling of bacon sounded throughout the room, filling the kitchen and living room with the mouth-watering smell of food. You carefully scooped a fried egg up from the pan and set it down on one of the plates before reaching over with your free hand to turn the radio dial. Jazz music flowed from the radio and covered the sound of cooking, as well as the creak of your bedroom door opening and closing. 

"Smells good." A voice rumbled and cold metal grazed your forearm, delicately as always. A smile formed on your lips and you switched the stove off, sliding the last strips of bacon onto the plate before turning around and gazing into warm blue eyes. A sweet smile stretched out on his face, faintly nervous and shy. You'd been the first person he'd gotten with in many years, or so he'd told you that night before. He spoke briefly of his time in the military and how it'd affected him, and when a pained look passed over his features, you opted to change the topic and relieve him of those memories.

"Only the best for my favorite neighbor." You cooed and slipped your arms around his broad shoulders. His own muscular arms wrapped loosely around your waist and his eyes glittered with amusement. 

James Barnes, or Bucky as he preferred to be called, had been the most recent addition to your apartment complex. He'd moved months prior into the apartment just three doors down, and boy had he been a sight for sore eyes. As much as you loved your elderly neighbors with their endless supply of stories and gossip, a younger and much fresher face had been exactly what you needed to see when coming home from long work days.

You didn't see much of him the first couple of weeks, only hearing the muffled sound of his footsteps leading up to his apartment until you ran into him in the hallway one day while trying to haul one too many grocery bags up the stairs. He'd regarded you with a stiff nod and eyed the grocery bags digging into your arms before asking if you needed any help and easily taking all the bags into his hands without even straining a muscle. 

From then on, you bumped into him more frequently, almost as if he lingered near the entrance of the complex or by the stairs in hopes of catching you. The first few days he'd been quiet, keeping his typically quick pace down and only sneaking minimum glances in your direction. On the fourth day, you began telling him about your day, about customers and coworkers, and any piece of work gossip that seemed worth sharing with the brooding man. By the sixth day, he started commenting, making jokes, and sharing his opinion on the drama you shared. 

A friendship blossomed fairly quickly, and the day he smiled and laughed for the first time had been all you could think about the following week. You grew to learn there was a sassy sweetheart underneath his serious and stern exterior, and that his laugh sounded like a kid experiencing joy for the first time. He enjoyed making himself useful whether it was tagging along on grocery trips, becoming your handyman when something went wrong in the apartment, or simply keeping you entertained with all the facts he happened to know about the 1900s. Sometimes it almost felt as if he'd been alive during those times with how he spoke of stories he claimed to have heard from an old friend named Steve.

"I had a good time," Bucky murmured and bumped his nose against yours sweetly, eyes crinkling when his smile widened. "That was the best night of my life."

"Oh, please," You scoffed, feeling your cheeks light ablaze at his genuine words and trying to turn away but his arms pulled you back into his chest. A laugh rumbled in his chest and he pushed his face into your neck, the stubble on his cheeks rubbing lightly against your skin as he peppered you with soft kisses. His hold on you tightened briefly and when he took in a deep breath as he leaned back, your bashfulness faded into concern. His hands moved to cup your hips and his gaze flickered around the tiled floor before lifting to make eye contact. The tips of his ears turned a soft pink but the expression on his face remained unreadable.

"I.. I tried to keep feelings out of this. I really did. I'm not the ideal partner and I'm still working on some things but... I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me sometime?"