#High End Bathroom Installation

[bathroomsuk]

Having a small room does not mean you have to compromise on its features. You can find inspiration and space saving-solutions everywhere and as you see more, your own luxury bathroom design will come together.

[finleyconstruction]

Modern Bathroom Designs

Transform Your Space With Professional Bathroom Remodeling Services

Your bathroom is more than just a functional space—it's a place to relax, rejuvenate, and start your day off right. If your bathroom is outdated or lacking in modern features, it’s time for an upgrade. At Finley Construction Company LLC, we specialize in bathroom remodeling services that can give your bathroom a fresh, new look that combines style and functionality.

Why Choose Finley Construction for Your Bathroom Remodel?

At Finley Construction Company LLC, we understand that a bathroom remodel is a significant investment. That’s why we’re committed to delivering top-quality results that meet your needs and exceed your expectations.

Skilled Bathroom Remodeling Contractors: Our team of experienced contractors is dedicated to bringing your vision to life. During your initial consultation, we take the time to listen to your ideas and offer expert suggestions on how to enhance your space. Whether you’re looking to modernize your bathroom or add new features, we have the expertise to make it happen.

Comprehensive Services: We don’t just focus on aesthetics—we handle all aspects of your bathroom remodel, including plumbing and electrical work. This ensures that every detail is taken care of, and your new bathroom is as functional as it is beautiful.

Certified Wedi Contractors: High-Quality Walk-In Showers

When it comes to walk-in showers, Finley Construction Company LLC stands out as a certified Wedi contractor. Wedi systems are known for their advanced waterproof and steam capabilities, providing you with a luxurious and durable shower experience.

Endless Design Opportunities: As certified Wedi contractors, we have the training and expertise to install top-of-the-line walk-in showers that meet the highest standards of quality. Whether you’re looking for a sleek, modern shower or something more traditional, we can customize the design to fit your preferences.

Customize Your Dream Bathroom

At Finley Construction Company LLC, we believe that your bathroom should be a reflection of your personal style. That’s why we offer a wide range of stylish and functional elements to elevate your space. From custom vanities and countertops to high-end fixtures and lighting, we can create a bathroom that is uniquely yours.

Get Started Today

Ready to transform your bathroom into a space you’ll love? Contact Finley Construction Company LLC today to schedule a consultation. Serving the Keene and Peterborough, NH areas, we’re here to help you create the bathroom of your dreams, complete with all the modern features and luxurious touches you deserve. Let’s work together to bring your vision to life with our expert design and remodeling services!

[sugarbbgrl]

the one with a camera MDNI

warning(s): dubcon (?), spanking, voyeurism, pet names, praise, degradation, light choking, light hair pulling, dumbification and dacryfilia if you squint

john may not but that much older than the others is 141, but he’d never been as tech savvy. he could tell you day and night how to unload and take apart an m16, but as soon as you ask him to restart the wi-fi router, he’s at a complete loss.

he went to johnny for help, knowing his finest demolition expert might have a clue about installing security cameras. john had been worried about you when he’s away on missions, he couldn’t have his pretty girl unsafe any longer.

thankfully, johnny agreed so once they were finally able to have a short leave, he told john he’d help him.

“i really just don’t understand why we need these, john, i’ve been perfectly fine without them.” you commented, standing behind the two men screwing in one of the cameras.

“darling, would you just let your old man’s mind rest easy at night? i know you’re a capable woman, but there are others more capable of breaking and entering.” john turned to look at you with a soft expression, hoping you’d finally get the hint that he needs this.

you finally caved, allowing the two to continue their mission while you prepared dinner for you and your fiancé.

by the end of it, there had been quite a few cameras in and outside of the house. every corner secured, other than the bathroom per your request for some privacy.

days go by when you eventually come to relax under the watchful atmosphere, almost completely ignoring them. daily tasks get easier without you having to watch over your shoulder. you’re thankful for them, to be quite frank. knowing that you can blow a kiss or two at them while your wonderful fiancé watches.

the night before john was set to go back out into the field, things had gotten more than heated between the two of you. you’d decided to out in his favorite lingerie set for him: a sheer, light blue body suit with a pair of white thigh high stockings. price’s man spread widern and a smirk rested high in his cheeks when he set his sights on you.

“well aren’t up just dashing, my darling.” the older man pulled you in by your waist, kissing you perky nipples through the thin fabric, a whimper leaving your lips.

somehow you’d both had made it to your shared bedroom, long before ridden every piece of clothing that adorned ones both of your bodies, except for the stockings. john had you facing the end of the bed, ass up for him to pound into your tight, little cunt. he’d used his belt to tie your hands together behind your back and his hand was pressed into the back of your head, shoving your face in your messy sheets.

“breathtaking beauty,” john groaned his praises, his free hand bringing a harsh smack to your backside. you yelped at the sudden contact, tears pricking your eyes from complete pleasure. “i just can’t believe this, you, are all mine.”

you were at your limit, john having coaxed two other orgasms out of you while in the living room and now you’re about to reach your third and final. you were a mess of slobber, whimpers and moans. you couldn’t keep quite even if it were to save you life. john felt too good, his balls slapping against your swollen bud and his head toying with your sweet spot.

suddenly the hand that price had pushed your face into the bed, gripped your hair and lifted your head. john leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple before leaning into the shell of your ear. “why don’t you smile at the camera, pretty girl.”

unbeknownst to you, john had other plans for those cameras than just for security. of course, he wanted to make sure you were safe, but he also had his own devilish desires. after having them installed, he had given the code to each one of the members of tf141. he made sure to emphasize to tune into the show tonight.

you should be angry, you should be beating on his chest with a string of curses and further insults. but the thought of the others watching john make a sputtering mess of you had your core heating up even more, a fire ignited in the lowest part of your belly.

you look up to the camera at the corner of your room with half lidded eyes and gave a hazy smile, making sure to blow a kiss at it too. john’s low chuckle vibrated through his chest and into your back before he shoved your face back into the plush fabric of your sheets. he fucked you harder, deeper than he had in a long time, as if to put on a show for the boys.

he groaned, another hard smack to the fat of your ass. he reached around and wrapped a large hand around your throat, pulling you up once more and squeezing only a tad. “what a dirty girl, getting off on letting my mates watch you through their screens.”

the thought of them palming themself through their briefs had you pushing yourself over the edge, a shiver up your spine and an orgasm ripping through your body. a couple ‘ah’s’ flowed through your lips as john reach his end as well, spilling his seed deep into your womb.

“that’s my girl.” john huffed out, pressing a string of kisses to your spine. he pulled out of you and gave a small nod to the camera, signaling the end of your endeavors.

you could get used to this: walking around in little to nothing, teasing your fiancé and his men. purposefully setting yourself in clear view of the camera, letting them watch you touch yourself, maybe even moan their names if john would allow it (he most definitely would).

[thebearer]

where there's smoke |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: carmen's been busy at work, and you miss him. high stress mixed with heightened emotions leads to a fight.

contains: angst, a fight (they make up at the end dw). language, mean-ish carmen, mean-ish reader, alludes to smut very briefly at the end. minors dni 18+

“What time will you be home tonight?” You asked, knees pulled to your chest in the bed, watching Carmen slip on his shirt, bustling around your shared bedroom. 

“Uh, probably not until late tonight. Sorry, baby.” Carmen muttered, but he didn’t sound sorry. He sounded… distracted. He had been for a while, early mornings and long nights at the restaurant, busy building and perfecting the menu. You understood it, knew he had to do it, but, fuck, if you didn’t miss Carmen. It was lonely without him.

“Oh,” You didn’t mean to sound so small, so disappointed. 

Carmen turned, eyes flashing to you at the first sign of upset. “Why? Did we have plans?” He cringed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, ‘m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to say it like that. That was douchey. I just… My mind has been all over the place, baby, I just-” 

“-We didn’t have plans.” You said, looking down at the comforter. You’d brought it from your old apartment when you moved in, since Carmen’s was a thin quilt that barely covered him let alone the both of you. 

Carmen’s shoulders relaxed. “I just… I dunno. I was hoping I’d get to see you tonight.” You muttered. You knew you sounded clingy and desperate, and fuck you’d swore you’d never be that girl. Yet here you were. “I just miss you, Carmy.”

“I know.” Carmen nodded slowly. “I know, and I’m sorry, baby. I just really have to finish perfecting this menu.” 

“I know, Carmen, but you can’t take one night?” You asked, head tilting towards him. “I never see you anymore.” 

“You could come down for family.” Carmen countered, his voice had the faint twinge of an edge, cutting and a little exasperated. 

“Carmen,” You looked at him, unimpressed. “I meant while you’re not working. I just want to spend some time with you.” 

“Then come down to family and spend it with me.” Carmen huffed lightly. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.” 

“Are you- You’re not being serious.” You scoffed. “Don’t know what else to do-” Your voice raised, trilling to a dangerous octave that had Carmen’s eyes shutting. 

“Please.” Carmen held up a hand. “I-I don’t wanna do this with you right now, ok? I have a lot of shit going on-” 

“Oh, you always have a lot of shit going on.” You spat, rolling your eyes at him. “It’s always something, Carmen, I swear to God. If it isn’t the menu, then it’s installing something new, or-or it’s events, or something! God, it’s always something!” 

“Yeah, yeah, it is.” Carmen snapped, jaw flexing through the mirror to look at you. “That’s kinda the territory of owning a business, baby.” 

“That’s bullshit.” You snapped. “That’s bullshit and you know it is. A lot of people own businesses and they still make time for what matters.” The room was still after you said it, an eerie stillness that had Carmen uneasy, stomach twisting with nerves. 

When he didn’t reply, your heart stopped, plummeting into the pit of your stomach. “Am-Am I not important to you?” You croaked through a tight throat. 

“What? Fuck, no, no, you are. Don’t-Don’t even start that shit with me, ok? You fucking know you are.” You know I love you. It was unspoken, but you heard it, the sentiment easing your worries for a moment. 

“Then why don’t you act like it?” You snapped, lips pressed together. “Why don’t you want to spend time with me?” 

“I do.” Carmen grit, throwing his head back gently. “Look, can we talk tonight? I really have to go.” 

“Of course you do.” You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the hurt in your tone. Tossing the comforter off you, the soft blanket fell in front of Carmen, his eyes tracking your storm off to the bathroom. 

“Baby, c’mon, I didn’t mean it like-” 

“Just fucking go, Carmen!” You sneered. “I’ve already wasted enough of your time, clearly.” He didn’t miss the flash of hurt across your face, brief, before you slammed the door shut, shaking the house.

Carmen didn’t want to leave you, he hated when you fought, always leaving him feeling guilty and sick and anxious. He was already reaching for his spirits with shaky hands, feeling his phone buzz- Sydney or Richie or Tina or someone calling asking him where he was. 

Running a shaking hand through his hair, Carmen grabbed his keys, stopping hesitantly outside the door. He could hear the steady stream of the faucet hitting the porcelain of the sink from the other side. “I love you.” He muttered, and while he didn’t expect you to reply, it still hurt to not hear it back.

“Oh, this is your new place, Chef?” Marcus grinned, following Carmen into the apartment, the smell of whatever candle you had burning enveloping his senses. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s, uh, it’s our place.” Carmen nodded, placing his keys in the small, green trinket bowl. Carmen laughed lightly, nodding towards it. “She did most of the decorating, as you can tell.” 

“It looks nice though.” Sydney chimed, clutching the bottle of wine behind Marcus. “Very cozy and homey and… aesthetic.” 

“Aesthetic?” Richie snorted, brow raised. “The fuck does that even mean?” 

“It means I had a plan going into decorating.” You appeared from the hallway, a basket of laundry on your hip. “I didn’t just tack up the Hooters’ girl calendar on the wall and call it decor.” 

Richie rolled his eyes at you, shutting the door behind him. “Whatever. I had a picture too.” 

You scoffed, setting the basket down in the hallway. Carmen grimaced slightly. “Hi, baby.” He greeted, lips brushing over your cheek. “I, uh, we’re gonna try a new dish.” 

“Oh?” You quipped, brow raised challengingly. “In my kitchen I just cleaned.” Carmen flinched, eyes cutting in a warning at you. “Why didn’t you do it at the restaurant?” 

“We didn’t have everything we needed.” Carmen replied, a flick in his tone that he hoped you caught on to. One that warned you to settle down. He wasn’t looking for a fight or any ounce of the attitude you’d had lately. 

“Hm,” You hummed, lips pursed. “Wish you would’ve told me before people came over.” You sneered behind a toothy smile that looked more like a threat than a convincing welcome. “I would have put on some actual clothes.” 

“Oh, c’mon, sweetheart. It’s just us.” Richie grinned. Even his goofy demeanor didn’t relax you, eyes cutting towards him in a chilling glare. 

“It was a last minute thing, baby, c’mon.” Carmen begged, eyes pleading with you softly. “Don’t do this right now.” He muttered, a soft huff of a request that had your blood boiling, itching with a blinding rage that could only be directed at him. 

“Don’t let me bother you.” You snapped, leaning down to snatch the basket back on your hip, eyes boring fiercely into Carmen’s blue ones. You stomped towards the bedroom, shutting the door so hard the walls shook. 

Carmen burned with embarrassment, sure his neck and cheeks were rising with flush. Richie whistled lowly. “Cousin, what did you do, huh?” He snickered. “She is pissed.” 

“She’s not pissed.” Carmen snapped, running a hand through his curls. “She’s just… fuck, I don’t know, alright? She’s on me about spendin’ time with her and-and… I don’t even fuckin’ know.” 

“I mean…” Sydney swayed awkwardly, sliding the bottle of wine on the counter. “That’s a valid thing to be mad about. Not spending time with her. That’s not, like, a crazy thing to be mad about.” 

“We live together.” Carmen sighed, exasperatedly. The same fight unfolding in front of him, just with a different person he was arguing his case to this time. “You know what- don’t answer that, alright? Just-Just… let’s make this dish, ok?” 

You could hear the low mummering outside your door, down the hall. You fisted the shirt- Carmen’s shirt- angrily, frowning at it like if you glared hard enough, it might just burst into flames. It didn’t, so you opted to throw it towards the side of his bed. You were a mad woman, possessed and furious, that anger only bristling more and more every time you could hear his voice, commanding and joking with his friends outside the door. Oh, it infuriated you. Now he was bringing work home, quite literally to your house. 

You couldn’t let your mind race like this, you wouldn’t. You knew if you let it stew, you’d be storming in there, screaming at Carmen and causing a scene in front of his friends. A version of you from the past would have, the same insecure and needy girl you were before you knew Carmen, when you were still chasing affection from a boy who rejected you for sport- who did it to hurt you purposefully. 

Instead, you took a breath, turning on the TV to some reality show that would keep you distracted. 

“Hey, baby,” Carmen’s soft voice followed the rasp on the door, pushing it open gently. The hallway light spilled in, his head following with soft eyes. “We have dinner ready if you want any. If you wanna be my taste tester.” There was a playful softness in his voice that made your heart lurch. Made you want to sob. 

“I’m not hungry.” You answered instead, jaw locking to keep the threat of tears from spilling out of your chest. 

Carmen’s face fell. “C’mon, don’t be like that.” He cooed, stepping into the room fully. He could see the way your lip wobbled when you spoke to him like that, sweet and coddling when you were so mad at him. “Come out here with me. Come try this, please? I wanna spend time with you, baby. Like you asked-” 

“-I meant alone time, Carmen.” You hissed, your voice a tad louder than it should have been. 

Carmen flinched, looking over his shoulder at the open door. He hoped your remark didn’t carry down the hall to the others. “I’ll send them home in a little bit. After we taste this, alright? Please?” 

You nearly caved. You wanted to. Wanted to let him sway you, put his hand on your hip and pull you into his side. Wanted him to cup his hand under your chin, fingertips barely brushing your jaw while he gave you that first test, blue eyes dazzling with excitement while he waited for your praise- you always gave him praise. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to give in. Pride and your heart hurt, sensitive from feeling discarded, from the fights, from the frustration. You pressed your lips together, turning back to the TV. “I’m not hungry.” You snapped, cold. 

Carmen’s own face fell, heart sinking in his chest. “Ok.” He nodded. He watched you for a moment, the way you refused to look at him, sullen and pouty- so mean. Something flipped, a switch inside him that had his own jaw clenching. “Heard.” He bit, closing the door rather firmly, heavy steps down the hallway to the kitchen. 

“I came home to spend time with you-” 

“-No, you didn’t! You came home to fucking work!” You roared back. You and Carmen’s voices had been a building crescendo from the moment he came into the bedroom. His staff was gone, leaving just the two of you in the tension-filled apartment. 

“How is that not spending time with you?” Carmen’s voice boomed, reaching that final point in his tone- the point of no return. No chance of composure, no he was furious. Vein protruding, eyes bulging, kind of furious. “How?” 

“How?” You gawked back, a tight knuckled grip on the throw pillow. 

“Yeah, how? Tell me fuckin’ how that makes any sorta fuckin’ sense!” Carmen threw his arms out. “I would’ve stayed at the goddam restaurant-” 

“Maybe you should have.” You sneered, eyes narrowing at him. “You bring all those people here-”

“-Those people-” 

“-Yeah, Carmy, those people, and you say we’re spending time together.” You grit, teeth barred and angry. “I wanted to spend time with you. Just you.” 

Carmen’s jaw locked, running a hand down his face. “So you had to be so mean? So fuckin’ rude? That’s my family, my friends-” 

“And what am I?” You smacked the bed with an open palm, the echo a cutting silence between you two. Carmen froze, angry but still, watching you. Your jaw clenched, lips pressing together to keep your emotion in, furious and hurt. 

“I just wanted to spend time with you. You’ve been at the fucking restaurant all the time, and-and…” I miss you. What you didn’t say. 

Carmen’s arms crossed over his chest, jaw flexing. “Yeah, well, maybe I shoulda stayed there tonight.” 

The gasp that left you was soft, deflated with hurt. Your throat burned with the threat of tears, lip wobbling, nails digging into the cushion of the pillow still in your hands. “Get out!” You roared, pointing to the door. “Get the fuck out, Carmen! Fuck you!” 

“And go where, huh? This is my apartment too!” 

“Go back to your fucking restaurant! I don’t fucking care! Just go! I don’t want you anywhere fucking near me, you piece of shit!” Your chest heaved, nose running with the threat of tears that you tried to hold back. 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere this is my fuckin’ apartment, too!” Carmen roared, voice so loud it rattled the pictures on the bedside- framed photos of the two of you. 

“Fine.” You snapped, lips pressing together furiously. You snatched your pillow from your side, yanking your charger out of the wall, before turning and flinging the throw pillow at Carmen furiously. 

“The fuck are you-” 

“- I don’t want to be anywhere near you.” You snapped, tears leaking from the corner of your eyes that you tried to hide. “You want to be away from me? Fine. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight because I don’t want to even look at your fucking face right now.” 

Carmen watched in slow motion, the slamming of the bedroom door, which did shake the entire frame- your neighbors were going to be furious. The low creak of the couch, the one you’d bought when you moved in. You’d been so happy when you found it, a pretty little sectional from a discount store that you’d been positively giddy about. He and Richie and Marcus carried it up the two flights of stairs for you, and you’d squealed when he got it in the living room, arms thrown around him, peppering kisses into his cheek. 

God, Carmen would do anything to feel like that again. Instead of the piece of shit he felt like now, hands shaking with rage or nerves or everything. His stomach turned, lurching, mouth filling with spit that he tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. Oh, he felt sick. Repulsed at himself, at what he said, how he said it- to you. 

“Fuck!” Carmen’s voice made you jump, echoed and angry from down the hall. 

You curled further into yourself, pulling the throw blanket over your mouth to try and muffle your own sobs. Keep the sounds of despair in your chest, away from him. Your own chest aching, burning with emotions and hurt. 

You weren’t sure when you’d dozed off, chest still hiccuping with shaky sobs post-cry. Carmen’s footsteps startled you, soft- well, as soft as he could be against the hardwood floors creaking under his weight. Your eyes fluttered open, burning and blurry when you rubbed them, making out his figure above you, blankets and pillows huddled in his hands. 

“What?” You snapped, voice groggy with sleep and tears but the malice was still there. 

“Can’t sleep.” Carmen grunted. He hadn’t been able to sleep, not in that bed, not without you. Not knowing that you were hurt and angry and alone down the hall. Not knowing it was his fault. He spent the majority of the night leaning over the toilet, sobbing and heaving, wracked with a painful guilt. 

“You’re not sleeping in here. I meant it, Carmen, I don’t want to be near you.” You sneered, hoping he couldn’t see your tear stained cheeks in the illuminated light of the moon. 

“’m sleepin’ on the floor.” Carmen muttered, walking on the other side of the coffee table away from you. He groaned, spreading the blanket on the ground, plopping his pillow on top of it with a muted thud. “Can’t fuckin’ sleep without you, y’know that.” It was a soft admission, one that had your heart warming lightly, dulling the ache. 

You didn’t say anything else, turning towards the cushions and away from him, hearing Carmen settle on the other side of the room. “I just wanna say one thing, and I’ll leave you alone. I know you’re mad at me, don’t blame you.” Carmen’s voice cut through the silence of the apartment. “But I’m sorry. I’m really fuckin’ sorry for-for it all.” His voice hitched, a crack that had your own chest swelling with tears again. 

“I shouldn’t have ever yelled like that, or-or said that.” Carmen pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling, his chest from tightening even more. “And it’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, or mean t’not. It’s just… I get so into things sometimes, and-and it’s like if I don’t finish it, I feel like everything is just wrong.” 

You didn’t reply. You weren’t sure what to even say. You knew Carmen was tightly wound, a perfectionist convinced that the slightest slip would leave his world crumbling. If he wasn’t ahead, he was wrong- it was how he was wired. 

“That’s not fair t’you and I know- I know that.” You could hear the staggered breathing in Carmen’s voice, his chest tightening and hands shaking. 

“Carmen,” You pushed up on your arms to look over the couch at him. 

“It’s not fair to you, and I’m sorry, and-and I’ll call Syd in the morning and tell her to cover the day-”

“Carmen.” Your voice cut his rambling off, his chest rising and falling sharply, you could see the silhouette of the night. “It’s ok.” 

Carmen laughed, humorless and watery, hands covering his face. “It’s not ok, it’s not fucking ok.” His breathing hitched, a strangled sob that had you wincing. “I-I’m a fucking dick.” 

“No,” You said easily, calmly. “I mean, yeah, you were earlier, but you’re not as, like, a whole a fucking dick.” 

Carmen sighed softly, lighter this time. “I shouldn’t’ve talked to you like that.” He admitted quietly, staring at the ceiling. “Shouldn’t’ve screamed at you either.” 

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have either.” You admitted, looking down at the floor. “I’m sorry for being mean.” 

“You don’t have to-” 

“-Yeah, I do, Carmy. I was wrong too. Both of us were.” You said firmly. He didn’t reply, simply swallowing around the growing lump in his throat. “And I’m really fucking sorry about that.”  

“It’s ok.” Carmen whispered, his head lolling over to the side to look at you. “I’m sorry for being a dick, and-and not spendin’ enough time with you, and all the other stuff.” 

“It’s ok.” You nodded, looking at him carefully, taking in his wet lashes, shaking hands. “Do you want to… Let’s go to bed.” 

“I’ll stay in here, and you can go in the-”

“-No, Carmen.” You shook your head. “Come to bed with me, please.” You asked gently, sweetly. A complete turn around from before, screaming yells that left your voice hoarse traded in for soft words. 

“Ok.” Carmen whispered, sitting up in the dark quiet of your living room. 

You helped him gather the comforter, dragging it down the hall and slinging it over the bed, the two of you sliding under it. Carmen’s hands on your waist, your back, grabbing at your leg pulling you closer and closer until you were flush against his skin, nose pressed into your scalp. Trembling hands, running down your back. Whispered apologies and soothing words under the sheets. 

Tomorrow, he’d spend the day with you. He’d take you to State Street, let you drag him through the aisles of a store aimlessly, holding your baskets and coffee while you shopped. He’d take you out somewhere nice, though you’d tell him you’d rather him just cook for you- it was always better. You’d hang the mirror in the living room together, and you’d thank him by riding him on the couch. 

But that would be tomorrow. For now, it was the two of you, under the sheets clinging to each other, trying to make it better. 

[starrbright]

Mindless Thoughts

Mild dubcon. Filth. Nonsense. That's it. Inconsistent patterns. A teaser to a full works that hopefully i'll do soon. Abrupt ending.

Matsukawa Issei: He gets off on watching a specific category of porn, forced gangbang, that is. He's the ceo of it, idcidc. One woman being used by multiple men, urgh, he's an addict to it. Is he guilty? Somehow he finds himself at least barely so. He does not give a fuck!!!! When has he ever did. The man has his countless favorites of videos to choose from whenever he wants to let himself loose. He's picky as well. This man has gone deep in a lot of sites and he's seen a lot of things he didn't like. Does he like watching more than four men ruin a woman, duh, he still has a few bits he doesn't like though. Which is when they're really pushing it too much, such as a man putting his foot on her head—he fucking hates that, idc. Sexual filth he loves it, duh, but miss him with any—it's what he thinks to it—bullshit of scat, even watersports especially when it's directed at her, or just straight up disgusting of running a woman's face on a bathroom floor, smother her face with a dirty mop—because what the fuck, he still regrets coming across to a certain few videos then. Anywaysssss, urgh, he likes to see the struggle. The blatantly literal power imbalance. The taunt of men. The degradation. The submission. The screams and whimpers of one woman against men as they use her.

He thinks about pulling off such a thing with the three more than often. And when he meets you with them—well.....he gets to fill his fantasy. This man is a straight up predator, I'll always stand by that. With his horsecock, no less!

Kuroo Tetsurou: Fuck this mannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. Disgusting. Hate him. I need him to do this to me. Urgh. This suit and tie bastard reeks of chikan. Consuming porn and hentai when he was in his late teens, he didn't really like it whenever he comes across it, sticking to some other generic but good stuffs he finds. But of course, what do you fucking know. Ever since he started his career, always taking the train like he hasn't before, prim and proper with his crisp suits and the small suitcase he has—he's never seen, more so felt the appeal of it more than ever after being into his surroundings while he's deep in his mind as well. The rush hours of getting home from works always has the train filled. It makes him remember, think of it. Right, there's the thrill of doing something so wrong in public yet still hidden, the chances of being caught high, and just the scenario of being seen and watched quietly to their perverse indulgence of the fleeting moment. That's what's it about then, he realizes.

Fuck himmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. He went home that day and immediately made himself comfortable in his bedroom, browsing for porns and hentai of it, fucked his mind and cock raw.

What a bitch the timing was, just when he purchased a car by installment a few days ago, he suddenly has no eagerness now that much in using one. And really? What confusing luck he has. How come he's never seen you before around in the company? Given that you most probably work in different sections, but now after that revelation of his to himself, really? There he stands in front of you after being cramped in haste just when the doors were starting to close as he hurried for the last train in that time. Wearing the same lanyard of your company, he's a bit surprised as he immediately knew. He stands tall in front of you as he looks down at you while your eyes just stay barely on his chest. Given that you're probably uncomfortable from the tight space you have on each other, but he didn't want to bear an unbearable commute and make it even more awkward between you two if you somehow see each other again and especially in the company, nor keep you feeling uncomfortable. Sure. He greeted you. Said you're both in the same work despite that was obvious, made you laugh a little from how easy it was to be at ease with him. You talked the whole ride. Behind Tetsu's friendly demeanor, or rather the suitcase he holds hides and prevents his hardened cock that's suffocating in his slacks for you to see and feel. Damn him, he knows.

Sickening man. Sickeninggggggggggg. You became the muse of his desires, one would say. Oh, you did see each other again in the company then, at least because he made it so. Did all the unsuspecting ways for him to get himself be at your section. Coincidences, he says to you. You became close. He always tagged along with you in lunch, or drop by with what free time he had, and of course, with you when it's time to out from work. It's the same thing for a month now, taking the train together, talking or not, his mind was on one thing only; him on you. Thinking of how many times he's already thought of you, imagined you as he watched his loved choice porn and hentai, groping you through your clothes or just straight up fucking you there.

A guy could only have so much patience. And why not be fully a bastard then? You think it's just natural accidents when he's suddenly too close to you, bodies firm on one another, or when he grasps on your round waist to keep you steady, his breathing on your neck, feeling more entrapped not by how cramped it is inside the vehicle but because of him, or the hardness below him sometimes you get a feel from all it.

It's not intentional, you always tell yourself when doubts and possible guesses arise in you—until one day your eyes are held on each other as he has you on your back against the doors and he has his smirk.

"Took you long enough."

Bokuto Koutarou: Darling sweet man. Baby boy. This sweet angel. How could anyone immediately guess he's still a man at the end of the day? You didn't. And that's on you. Thinking rather too much of how a light he is, you forgot anyone still always has their needs. Especially the boisterous man that he is.

But then again, blame shouldn't be too much on you when he was just always simply nice to you. Koutarou always used that to his advantage. It's fun. People thinking he's such an angel when he's just like any other guy that would fuck anyone with a hole. He's a destroyer!!!!! As unserious as that is.

He's a connoisseur of forced gangbang as well. Thanks to him being an athlete with always all of the players, his teammates having their builds, the time in the lockers, showers, just overall as an athlete—when he found such a thing the first time he knew any explicit medias, that was what he became into. Fantasies of just taking a cheerleader or a fan with his teammates always plagued his mind before or after the games, or even just in training.

Now he's a pro. That didn't change at all. If anything it made him want to do something more about it now he's a lot grown. And you're one of who works with msby. The amount of times he's indulged himself to the thought of using you with the rest of the men is.....concerning.

And when he just brought it up randomly to them, as shocked as everybody was....they weren't against it.

On a random day of their training. You hadn't got a clue why Meian asked you to stay after just as you were about to leave and almost everyone has already left.

Image used. I indulged this with @shaisuki before like on may jsjwjdjjw and bc issei has been bugging me a lot lately again and just seijoh4, really, i had to do it. I'm on an agenda with this gangbang nonsense!!!! @seijhoeist, mwuah.

[ramp-it-up]

II Most Wanted Pt. 2: Pedal so heavy 

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup" (w/ Betty Bronco)

Summary: The feelings are getting real as you make a decision about giving Jake Syverson the time of day (or night, rather) at your 20 year reunion.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Angst, pining, fluff. Flashbacks, horny teenagers being horny (over 18 tho). Prom night, early 2000's music, mentions of sex acts, "Captain" kink, mentions of teenage pregnancy, divorce, breakups. The Powerpuff Girls, old automobiles, 20 year high school reunion, drinking, swearing. Reckless driving?

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the second installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

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

May 2024

“Well, now Buttercup, that’s a long story. I know you want to hang with your friends. And I don’t know what you’re doin’ later tonight, but I would like to go somewhere quiet and talk about it.”

When you heard that, you went into fight or flight mode. Rage, regret, and sadness all flooded your body at once, and Sy’s eyes flicked down to your dominant hand which was curling into a fist. A wry smile started on his lips, and then he straightened up and looked you in the eye as he started to speak again.

“Butter-”

You shook your head, which silenced him. Then you raised your chin, released your fist, and turned your back, walking toward your friends.

—---

Get out (LEAVE!)

Right now

It’s the end of you and me

It’s too late (NOW!)

And I can’t wait 

For you to be gone…

Carla and Tiffani followed as you fled to the restroom.

“Why did you even tell him I liked him? I blame both of you.”

You were hurt, so you brought up a 20 year old slight and lashed out weakly at your friends. You were trying to ascribe meaning to your emotions.

How could everything still hurt this much? 

Carla wasn’t having it.

“Unh unh. No. Nope. We were sick of you running your mouth all the time about how cute he was. And Jakey boy had heart eyes for you since the day you walked into school, despite Becca the Bitch. After they broke up, we had to put you both out of your misery. It had to be done.”

Tiffani was nodding her head in agreement.

You sighed.

“‘M sorry guys,” you sat on the bathroom vanity and smiled to yourself about your Powerpuff councils in the 3rd floor Central High bathroom all those years ago. Then you grimaced when you thought of Sy.

“I just… Can’t…”

“So what just happened?”

Despite your surliness, Carla was ready to go to war for you.

“He wants me to go talk with him, ‘someplace quiet.’”

“Wow. Your air quotes are kind of aggressive.”

Sweet Tiffani was also calling you out.

“Maybe you do need to talk to him. I heard what happened, and it’s kind of a lot. A hell of a story.”

“Tiff has a point. You forbid us to say his name after you two broke up…”

You interrupted Carla.

“After he found out Becca was pregnant, you mean..”

“...That is a part of the story you need to hear. She did him dirty. They split when he finished his first tour. He asked about you, but you were already engaged to Scott…”

You’d heard that Sy enlisted instead of going to State for football like he planned when Becca fell pregnant, but the bit about the split hit you like a ton of bricks.

But why? And what did it matter now? 

“Sy spent the better part of the last 20 years in Afghanistan, and I think it’s because…But that’s not our story to tell. You really ought to talk to him.”

“I don’t have to do-”

Your voice was a little shrill and you closed your mouth when you heard yourself. You stood in the bathroom awkwardly until the familiar beginning of a song wafted into the room:

“Teen drinking is very bad.”

Carla and Tiff started screaming the next line:

“Yo, I got a fake ID tho.”

The beat dropped and they pulled you out of the bathroom onto the dance floor.

One, here comes the two to the three to the four Everybody drunk out on the dance floor Baby girl ass jiggle like she want more Like she a groupie and I aint even on tour...

…..Everybody in this bitch getting Tipsy.

This was your thot song, and after a minute of standing there, fake offended by their dancing, soon you were shaking your ass with your lifelong friends.

—-----

Sy knew how much he was trying it when he asked you to talk, but he had been waiting 20 years for this chance. 

Tonight was the night.

And he wasn’t going to let the night pass without shooting his shot. But the truth needed to be told first. He hoped that you still cared enough to let it happen.

When you stared at him blankly, he started to sweat. He knew you lived your life since then. He feared that any feelings you may have had for him were over and done with. But then he saw your hand balled into a fist, and hope entered his heart.

Sy never shrank from a fight; hell, he’d started too many, but he never wished for someone to sock him in the mouth as much as you.

He wanted to fight with you. 

And he wanted to make it up to you. 

His heart dropped when you walked away, but he decided to let it ride and give you some space. After you disappeared into the bathroom with Carla and Tiffani, Sy ventured into the venue, ready to interact with others now that he had laid down the challenge with you.

—---

You were having a ball dancing with the girls until that song came on. You stopped moving, the hair raised on the back of your neck. When you turned you found Sy staring right at you. You’d managed to ignore him the entire night, but this song and his blue eyes were wearing you down.

I'd sure hate to break down here Nothin' up ahead or in the rear view mirror Out in the middle of nowhere, knowin' I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin' So, God help me, keep me movin' somehow Don't let me start wishin' I was with him now

You walked toward Sy, drawn to him as if on a string. You had that feeling in the small of your back as you stood before him, the one that you hadn’t felt in ages, and suddenly everything felt inevitable.

Just like it did 20 years earlier. 

—---

May 2004

On Prom night, you came out of your bedroom and Sy’s mouth dropped open. His eyes never strayed from your face as he murmured,

“You look amazing.”

You blushed and smiled while your mom ‘awwwed’ and went to get her camera. You approached your boyfriend and he took your hand to twirl you around as he appraised the rest of you in your sleek emerald green dress. When you faced him again, he was licking his lips, trying to make the look on his face respectable. You smiled because you could read his mind.

Sy didn’t flinch as your mom called him “Jacob,” and you didn’t have it in you to be annoyed as she took a couple of pictures. Sy’s hand on your waist and his thumb gently stroking the exposed skin at the opening on the side of your dress made you shiver in anticipation.

You were caught up.

Soon, Sy was loading your bag into the back of Betty, and pulling off, your mom having accepted your explanation of staying over Tiffani’s after going bowling with the group after the prom.

In reality, a bunch of the crew were renting a huge chalet in the mountains, 45 minutes away. You and Sy had your own room, and you were ready to give him everything that night. You were distracted, imagining having your way with him that night.

And Sy was right there with you.

“Y’know, Buttercup, we can just head on up to the chalet.” 

He cut his eyes over to you to watch your reaction. When you didn’t answer and just bit your lip, that’s when he knew.

“Our suite has its own bathroom with a shower in it. We’re definitely using that this weekend. Can’t wait to see you all soapy and wet. ‘S all I could think about in the shower tonight. Almost jerked off to the image, but I decided to save it all for later…”

Sy knew you too well, and had keyed into how you responded when he talked dirty to you. He was priming the pump for later.

You pictured Sy in the shower, his lithe muscles clenched as he fisted himself, made you suddenly need a drink of water. You cleared your throat and found your voice.

“We have to go, Sy. I spent so much time getting ready. And you look so handsome in this tux….”

You skimmed your hand down his lapel, down his torso to his thigh, and you quickly ascertained his situation. He grinned at you.

“You’re right.”

Sy winked, smiled and concentrated on the road while you tried not to be a slut in the passenger seat. By the time you reached the venue, you had yourself under control. He parked, then turned toward you. 

“Let’s have a good time tonight, Buttercup. Think you can keep your hands offa me for a couple of hours?”

You scoffed, and Sy took your hand and kissed the back of it, then turned it over and kissed your palm, smoothing the joke away because in reality, It was him who couldn’t help touching you.

“Don’t want to mess up your makeup right now… might ruin it later tho.”

You whimpered in his grip as he kissed up your arm and you tucked a long errant curl behind his ear. 

Sy’s eyes went soft and he held your hands in your lap.

“Y’know, we don’t have to do anything tonight. We can dance all night if you want to. Bowl the blue balls away.”

You laughed and Sy fell in love even more. You were so beautiful.

“I love you, Buttercup, and us having sex or not won’t change that, not one bit.”

You melted as you stared at your handsome fella. He was fiddling with your hand, and then you felt something cold on your finger. You pulled your hand back and saw the delicate white gold ring with a tiny perfect diamond in the center that had been his grandmother’s.

You gasped.

“Sy!”

You looked from him to his grandmother’s ring. You’d come across it the first time you were over his house, ‘studying’ in his room on a chilly November night after football practice. You were being nosy and looking at everything you could touch as he went to get some snacks.

Sy was embarrassed when he came back and saw you with it. You thought he was mad at you for snooping, but he wasn’t. He’d told you that it was just a ‘tiny little ol’ ring, not worth anything,’ and that no one would want it, but that his Gran had left it for him to give to his future wife. 

“But, I’ll propose to someone with a bigger ring than this.”

Sy’s denim blue eyes held yours for a beat. Your heart flipped. You didn’t know why, because you’d only been talking for a couple of weeks and this was the first time you were alone together. 

You didn’t know that Sy was repeating something Becca had told him when she turned her nose up at the antique when she happened to see it, and you didn’t care as you took the black box and sat down on his bed. You stared at the ring inside like it was the crown jewels, and after about 5 minutes of studying it, you looked up at him. 

“Well. I think this ring is beautiful and precious. The detail is stunning. Your future wife would be lucky to get it.” 

That was exactly when Sy realized that he was in love with you.

Back in the Bronco outside of the prom, you were in disbelief.

“What are you doing Sy….?”

All of a sudden, you felt too young for this moment. But after only six short months together, Sy knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Calm down, Buttercup, this is just a promise ring.” 

He kissed your hand again. 

“I know we're jumpin' the gun, and we're both still young.” 

Those eyes held you in a trance.

“But one day, we won't be.”

“Oh, Sy…”

“It’s my promise to you, Buttercup. I will love you ‘til the day I die.”

And it seemed kinda crazy. But you believed him.

—-

May 2024

I made it this far without cryin' a single tear An' I'd sure hate to break down here Oh, no

It was either the music, the dancing, or the alcohol, or all three that made your mind up, but you were ready to listen to what Sy had to say. 

Stephanie Prince, the class president, was calling the Homecoming court up to the stage, and Sy looked that way. Anger bloomed again inside you.

Damnit, Sy needed to choose you this time.

“You still wanna talk, Sy?”

Your body language that screamed aggression: the cocked hip, the crossed arms that pushed up your tits, the tapping foot in those heels, all made Sy soft on the inside and hard on the outside for you. When he answered you, his voice broke. 

“Ye– yeah.”

Christ, you had him weak. But he made a decision, found his strength, and grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the Marriott.

You followed him obediently, and that set him on fire. He stopped and turned around when he reached the Bronco. 

But he didn’t let go of your hand.

You two stared at each other in the late spring night air, stars winking down on you two.

“So where we goin’, Sy?”

Being this close to him again, and the feeling of his touch made all those 20 year old pheromones perk up again. Damn, this man. 

This huge, handsome, hairy man.

“Where do you wanna go, Buttercup?”

What your brain was doing was insane, so you just kept silent.

Becoming mute was one of your tells. Sy was elated that maybe you wanted him, at least physically. He was so thirsty for you.

“Hm.”

Sy grunted, straightened up, loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, all while still holding your hand. It was like he didn’t want to let you go. 

And he didn’t.

“Tell you what. Let’s take a spin in Betty. See what’s up in the ol’ town.”

Your eyes flicked toward the truck, and you knew it was dangerous.

But you were grown now. 

And so was Sy.

Sy led you around to the passenger side door to help you up into the high profile vehicle, leaning over you to buckle you in, only releasing you to put his hand on the door.

“I can’t believe you still have her,” you whispered, indicating the Bronco. “How is she still the exact same condition?”

“She’s been in storage for the better part of 20 years. Thought about her everyday though.”

Sy was looking at your lips, and the memories came flooding back.

“I bet she missed you.”

Sy cocked his head and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. His voice came out gruff and he had to clear his throat again. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, Sy.”

Any smooth line was lost as his brain short circuited with the concentration it took to not kiss you right now. 

“Well, we’re about to have some fun together again, you, me, and Betty. Sit tight, pretty lady.” 

Your cheeks heated at the compliment.

“Ok, Captain.”

Sy actually blushed, shook his head and closed the door, leaving you to breathe in the old leather smell of the Bronco with your eyes closed, conveniently leaving him to pump his fist behind the car unseen by you. 

He got back in the car, jacket off. And he leaned near you to place it on the back seat, you got a whiff of him, the familiar cologne adding another dimension to your roiling senses.

When you opened your eyes, you witnessed him rolling his shirtsleeves up his forearms. He caught you ogling him and you gulped and crossed your own arms and legs, angling yourself to look out of the open window.

Sy looked over at you closing yourself off from him, then smashed the gas to make sure that you'd squeal and grab his arm like the good ol’ days as he peeled out of the parking lot, pedal so heavy like you were the two most wanted criminals in town.

—---

Hit reblog if you like it!

Next part Here

[thegnomelord]

#23 with male reader and soap. After a mission m!reader helps him clean himself in the shower maybe because soap got injured on the field or just really sore. And he washes off the blood/dust/dirt and helps dry him off and it turns into something kinda fluffy. I just wanna play with this man's stupid mohawk so bad.

Honestly me too, I just see that strip of hair and get the urge to tug on it, completely forgetting the man's fictional 😅 Ended up writing washing his hair and showering together because hyperfixation lol Play the game HERE.

Prompt: Washing their hair

CW: NSFW but no sex, non sexual nudity, M reader, showering together, hair washing, just fluffy fluffy fluff.

As much as you care about Soap, you've got to admit he's a bit of a dumbass, a reckless dumbass to boot. You tell him to be careful and what does he do? End up falling out of a second story window and rolling down a good 60 feet down a muddy hill while chasing after a target. You hear him swear the entire way down from where you're tucked away safely behind the sight of your sniper rifle.

By the time you get back to base Johnny feels as miserable as he looks, covered in so much mud you can't see his skin and his entire back wreathed in dull throbbing pain, not to mention the numerous cuts and scraps. And that's on top of Price chewing him out about safety and Ghost and Gaz teasing him the entire flight back to base.

"Not a word lad," He growls, giving you the stink eye. "Price already yapped me ear off." Soap turns to his heel in an attempt to head to the communal showers, biting his lip to stop himself from swearing out god, king, and country when his muscles scream at him.

"Wasn't going to." You stop him, one firm hand tugging on his bulletproof vest so you don't jostle him too much, though even that has drops of mud splashing on your clothes. "Come on, you can shower in my room."

He looks at you skeptically, but it doesn't take much to sway his mind when you offer him simple comforts; privacy, warm hands to wash away the days pains, a warmer body to remind him he's alive. He follows you without a word, neither one of you caring about the mud you track— tomorrow's problems.

"Foooock." The groan comes deep from his bones, perfectly encapsulating all he feels as you methodically unclip his gear, taking the world's weight off his shoulders and dropping it haphazardly on the bathroom's tiled floor. "Feel like a fockin' hog," He frowns.

"Look like you rolled in a pig sty." You helpfully supplement, receiving a few words in Gaelic which you don't even attempt to understand, though the humor in his tone is crystal clear even when you take hold of the bottom of his shirt; the mud and grime had gone through every layer of clothing, leaving not a single inch of skin clean.

He attempts to raise his arms to help you, only to suddenly yell out a "Oh ye fockin' cunt!" when pain flares from his shoulder down the entire length of his spine. You swear you hear his spine crack at least a dozen times by the time you pull his shirt off his mud wet skin.

"You sound like an old geezer." You chuckle to lighten the mood, dropping to your knees to untie his shoelaces and take off his boots, then the rest of his clothes.

"Says the bloke who's left knee tells the weather." He bites back, a bit of teeth on display as he grimaces, another few curses leaving his lips when he has to lower his arm. "Or tries to, yer got as much accuracy as the bloody reporters on the telly."

"Starting to complain like one too," You add, not at all surprised when Soap proceeds to brush his muddy hand across your face. "Of you fucker," Your words gain a childish little giggle from him, and he lets you guide him into the shower.

Your bathroom's one of the few that has a tub in it —a relic of past tenants before the army remodeled the base into an actual military installation— you had to bribe Price with a lot of high quality cigars to get it, but every penny was worth it. There's a tap as well as a detachable showerhead up top that Johnny eagerly uses, turning the water hot and just standing under the stream while you disrobe.

The clean water turns muddy the second it hits his skin, brown muck swirling around your feet as you step into the tub behind him. "How's that sweetheart?" You ask, taking the soap bottle and squirting a heavy amount onto your hands, not bothering with a sponge and instead using your fingers to wash away the dirt on his skin.

"Heaven." Johnny sighs, his muscles fluttering beneath your hands, mud and blood washing away to reveal deep blooming bruises across his back. "Shite, that hits the spot." He leans against you, the slow but firm pressure of your fingers massaging the sore muscles around the blotchy bruises making him groan. You lean in to place gentle kisses on the darkest bruises, "So good fer me bonnie," he hums, using his arms the best he can to at least wash the mud off his face.

You two float in a sort of mindless space where nothing outside the shower matters, the sound of water running and Soap's occasional groan filling your ears, all your focus on the way your hands rub him down; from shoulders to his back, down to his feet and then back up to his face when he turns around.

Once the water runs clear again you turn off the shower and start the tap so the tub fills with enough water to keep him warm, maneuvering him to sit in the tub while you step out to dry yourself off and put on boxers.

"Don't need ta be pampered like a show mutt," He grumbles, the hot water easing the soreness in his frame and making his exhaustion prominent, Johnny's eyelids starting to droop despite his best efforts to stay awake.

"I know, but you hair's a damn crow's nest." You snort, running your fingers through the mess on his head and showing the gunk stuck on your fingers, hell, you even pull a damn twig out.

His eyes widen, "Well fock me," Soap grimaces, gives a bone deep sigh as you settle behind him, sitting partially on the tub. Cupping water in your palms you rub your fingers down the length of his mohawk, loosening the dirt sticking to the strands until rivulets of watery mud run down his neck.

"Maybe later." You both chuckle, squirting the shampoo Soap always loves to smell on you in your hand and lathering your palms up before bringing them back to his hair. Soap mumbles something, leaning his head into your hands whenever you scratch a particularly itchy spot on his scalp.

His head tips back as much as his aching shoulders let him, his eyes settling on your face. I got it made, he thinks to himself, desperately trying to keep his eyelids open so he can see how you focus on even a simple task like washing his hair. Every brush of your fingers across his dirty strands fills his chest with lingering warmth, every scratch of your nails across his scalp making his eyes droop just a bit more.

Johnny doesn't even notice the slight sting when you occasionally tug on a knot, your touch making his mind buzz pleasantly like the low background static of a TV on late nights, and Soap doesn't realize he's dosing off.

You notice how he leans against your leg, leaning over to see his eyes closed and chest steadily rising and falling. You let him sleep for a bit while you finish up cleaning his hair and then use the detachable shower head to wash the bubbly shampoo off.

"What is'it?" He mumbles when you gently shake him awake, eyelids fluttering open and shut.

"Need you to get up Johnny." You hum and it's laughable how easily he follows your instructions, needing a bit of help to stand up when his back still aches like hell, a shiver racing down his spine as the cold air of your bathroom nips at his skin. "Fock, do'ah look like a snowman?" He grumbles at the cold.

You chuckle instead of saying anything, silencing any other complaints with sweet kisses on his lips as you towel him dry.

Soon after you two are huddled under the covers, his body draped over yours and using your chest as a pillow. Your fingers card through his slightly damp hair, the soft brown strands like feathers against your skin and your touch making him sigh and melt against you.

"Hey lad?" He suddenly says, voice a gentle whisper; like he's about to reveal a secret kept from the world — something only meant for you.

"Yeah Johnny?" You ask, a few stars reflecting in his blue eyes from your window.

Your heart melts at the soft and goody smile he gives you, "Love you." he says, leaning his head into your hand that's in his hair.

You smile and lean your head to kiss him, "Love you too," You mutter against his lips, and when you pull away he's already drifted off to sleep like a babe, soft breath tickling your skin and arms possessively wrapped around your waist like you'll disappear.

But you catch the way he smiles in his sleep.

[shellseaisms]

caradence apartment.

randomly got the idea to try playing with two sims in two different apartments in a high rise apartment building, so I decorated an apartment for cadence matthews (aka the other matthews "spare" from my generations series). it was supposed to have more of a seafoam colour theme too it, but naturally I went full shellsea on it and it turned out to be more pink than seafoam lol. super cute one bedroom apartment with a nice big kitchen and cute little living area, I'm a very big fan of this apartment and I hope you like it too!

note: this apartment is VERY custom content heavy (200+ pieces). it's two apartments combined into one, so it has the custom content from both this apartment and cara's apartment in it. sorry!!

custom content used: find all cc links for this build here.

§100,051 furnished, §13,244 unfurnished

1 bedroom, 1 bathroom (apartment #2 only)

30 x 40 lot size

custom content included with package file

built in saffron bay

‣ ‎ ‎ download, more screenshots + speed build below.

‧.˚ ☾ .‎ speed build.

‧.˚ ☾ .‎ downloads.

furnished: package・sims3pack

place the file ending in '_library' in your library folder (documents/electronic arts/the sims 3/library) regardless of what version you choose to install. the library file is included in the .zip files. for package downloaders, the file ending in '_mods' goes in your mods folder.

note: custom content is not included with the sims3pack.

library file only

‧.˚ ☾ .‎ more screenshots.

[cappuccinoandglitter]

Let's Try Being In Love (4119 words) by Wolf Chapters: 2/9 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Tommy Kinard, Josh Russo, Howie "Chimney" Han, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Bobby Nash, Abby Clark Additional Tags: Dispatcher Tommy Kinard, Evan "Buck" Buckley as Buck 1.0, medical inaccuracies probably, Firefighting Inaccuracies probably, gay sherpa Josh Russo, Abby Clark is barely involved, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, High functioning depression, moderate angst, the slowest of burns, Happy For Now Ending, brief bathroom blowjob, rated M for that brief bj but otherwise pretty tame, there may be more smut in later installments, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, the bj isn't with Buck sorry Series: Part 1 of Dispatcher Tommy Kinard AU Summary:

While working at the 118, Tommy Kinard suffered an accident on the job. The resulting nerve damage prevented him from going back to work as a firefighter. For the time being, he's taken a job at Dispatch. Then he meets the new recruit who's taken his place at the 118.

Chapter 2 is out. Read on over at AO3.

[lovebugism]

sleepover !! on the plane of dad!steve: what about steve finding out reader’s pregnant? they’re young enough for it to be a shock, but established relationship or casual hookup is up to you

i hereby name this the first installment of my dad!steve blurb series: the "crazy little thing called love" universe <3

By all accounts, you and Steve did everything right.

Sure, you got married pretty young, but after surviving the end of the world four separate times, you thought you were deserving of the rapid elopement. You moved into a little apartment outside of town shortly after, working like dogs until you could afford a down payment on one of those pretty houses people put in magazines. 

Neither of you minded that it was in the middle of the suburbs — that it was “expected” of the Harringtons to live within white picket fences. You were just grateful you didn’t have to live in his vacant childhood home that his parents were kind enough to offer as a present for a wedding they didn’t attend. Steve was more than happy to let the place rot. 

It takes your entire first year of marriage to fully decorate the place. 

The pool in the backyard is lined with white and yellow striped lounge chairs. The living room is more plants than furniture. The kitchen cabinets are painted green to match the tile in the bathroom. And the bedroom’s got a gallery of photos of the both of you on one side and a floor-to-ceiling bookcase on the other — Steve stores his vinyls on the upper shelves and you stash your books on the lower ones.

You’re finally getting settled into your new life in your new house when you realize your period is late.

By two weeks, to be exact.

You don’t even realize it until you’re grocery shopping. 

Steve mans the cart while you strike through the list, as per usual. He’s trying to choose between two similarly scented body washes — accidentally squirting some on the tip of his nose in the process — when you return from the feminine hygiene section. 

You didn’t need tampons, you realized while standing in front of the vibrantly colored boxes, because you had a full pack at home for a period that never came.

Steve uses his sleeve to wipe the peppermint-scented soap from his nose when you return, looking pallid and ghastly — like you’ve just seen a ghost looking for period underwear. His hand slows before falling to his side. “You okay?” he cautions.

You nod before the words catch up to you. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m— Yeah.”

“You could at least try and sound a little more convincing,” he laughs as he puts both bottles back. Neither was worth getting soap up the nose, turns out. “C’mon. Just tell me. It can’t be that bad, right?”

In his head, you’ve just seen someone from high school. You saw an old friend or a mean girl who hated you for no reason or a boy you had a fling with. They tried to chat you up while you were deciding between regular and super tampons, and the unexpected encounter’s got you all shaken up.

The image is so vivid in his head, Steve could laugh just thinking about it.

You clear your tightening throat, inching closer to him when another couple enters the aisle. You whisper like you’re telling him a secret. “My, um… My period is late. By, like… a lot.”

Steve’s blood runs cold. His eyes go wide and he forgets how to breathe. “Oh. Okay. Yeah. That’s— That’s bad, huh?”

“Yes,” you agonize, breathless. “Yes, that’s bad. That’s very, very bad.”

“Alright, c’mon. I’m standing right here,” he half-jokes.

“I just got promoted. If I have to take a year off work for maternity leave, I’ll be right back where I started.”

Steve can sense the panic radiating off of you. It’s rising with vigor like a faucet turned on high in a stopped-up kitchen sink. Once it starts overflowing, it’s harder to stop. Despite his own distant worry, he tries to quell your own.

“You might not even be pregnant, right? So why are you already worrying about maternity leave?” he questions with a gentle laugh. He takes both your arms in his hands, squeezing you in a soft reassurance. “You’re right. You just got promoted. Maybe, you know— Maybe you’re just stressed out about it. That’s all.”

“Yeah… You’re probably right.”

“Let’s take a test first, huh? Then we can start panicking.”

He presses a kiss to the tip of your scrunched nose. 

You’re able to breathe again.

You pick out three different brands of pregnancy tests, shoving them quickly into your cart and hiding them beneath your groceries like sex toys. 

The boxes are stacked on top of each other as they move slowly on the conveyor belt at the checkout counter. The older woman with pink lips and pinker nails smiles as she scans them through.

“It’s exciting, huh?” she gushes, smacking bubble gum between her teeth.

“Yep,” you nod, though the word comes out slightly strangled.

Steve’s charming smile wavers. “Totally.”

The paper bags of groceries are quickly abandoned on the kitchen counter when you get home. You’re far more worried about the pregnancy tests, and Steve’s more concerned about calming you down.

He sits with you on your shared bed, back propped up against the headboard, with you in between his legs. He works your palm with his thumbs, smoothing out the tension you seem to hold there. His chest you lean upon rises and falls with deep, even breaths. 

You’re not sure how he can be so calm about this, but you’re almost comforted by it.

Almost.

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, you know?” Steve admits after a minute or more of pure silence. “If you were pregnant. Actually, you know, I think I’d be pretty happy.”

“I know you would be. It’s totally different for you.”

His brows furrow, though you’re not looking at him to see. “What do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t have to be the one to take off work. I’d have to drop my entire career, and I’m— I’m just getting started. It would change everything for me.”

Steve hums to himself. It’s not the pregnancy that scares you, not the birthing process or the late nights or the constant crying. It’s the thought that you wouldn’t have a life outside of it all.

“I’d be here to help you, you know?”

“I know,” you sigh softly, tiling your head on his shoulder so you can stare up at him. His chin juts closer to his neck so he can look down at you too. “But for a while, we both couldn’t work. For the first couple of years, probably. And we can’t get a babysitter because we wouldn’t have double incomes, and… I don’t know if I’d trust someone to take care of our baby anyway—”

Steve tries not to smile but completely and utterly fails. 

You’re already talking like it’s a for sure thing — you having a baby. His baby. 

He doesn’t want to get his hopes up too high.

“Hey. It’s okay,” he almost coos to end your panicked rambling. “We’ll figure it out, I promise. Let’s just take this one step at a time, yeah?”

You take a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Yeah…”

He waits for you in the bedroom while you check the tests in the adjoining bathroom. He offered to come with you, of course, but you told him you could do it on your own. You said they’d probably be negative anyway, that it likely was just stress delaying your period, and that you were just making a fuss over nothing.

It’s quiet for all of ten seconds.

“Fuck!” you shout, a bit louder than you intended, muffled from the bathroom.

Steve winces.

“I take it they were positive?” he questions when you storm back into the bedroom, completely and utterly frazzled.

“We’re so stupid,” you chastise, pacing ahead of the bed. “We’re so, so stupid.”

Steve finds it in him to laugh, still a bit dazed by the results. “We’re not sixteen anymore. We’re married. Married people have kids—”

“But I’m not ready yet!” you shout with wild eyes. Your hands flail at your sides as you gesticulate. “I wanted to wait, like, five years, at least. I wanted to be CCO before we even thought about having kids.”

“Things don’t go as planned sometimes, babe. We know that more than anybody.”

He was right. After saving the world, you shouldn’t be shocked by anything anymore. You were so jaded by the time spring of 1986 rolled around that Vecna hardly scared you. The thought of uprooting your life to raise a child frightened you far more than any alternate dimension and monsters without faces.

“I was just announced Vice President, Steve. No one else in company history has gotten to oversee the marketing department so quickly. You don’t know what it’s like in the firm, alright? It’s vicious. They’ll replace me the second I’m gone.”

“No, they won’t,” the boy says with so much confidence it almost makes you angry.

“You can’t know that—”

“I do know that, actually,” he argues as he slides to the edge of the mattress to meet you. His larger hands engulf your shaking ones. His honey eyes twinkle as they gaze up at you. “‘Cause they’d be idiots to let you go. ’S why I married you, yeah? There’s not another person in the whole world like you.”

“It’s just something I’ve always wanted, you know?” you sigh, less prickly than before, but still visibly terrified. “I’ve been dreaming about corporate savagery since I was twelve…”

Steve grins. “You can still have all that. I’ve seen you set monsters on fire — you can raise a kid and run a company. You’re the most badass person I’ve ever met.”

“But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“If I can’t work, we’ll be living on your income. I don’t… I don’t want you to have to work more than you already do.”

“I’ll be okay,” he promises, squeezing your trembling fingers. “You’ll take maternity leave for however long you need to, your coworkers will grovel hands and knees to get you back, and I’ll… I’ll stay home with the baby.”

Your face scrunches with worry. “Is that something you want?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve always wanted to be a dad, you know? I can’t… I can’t really see myself doing anything else.”

Steve always thought he was broken in that way. His dad was already building businesses by the time he had a kid. He coached Steve to do the same — to graduate, to spend thousands on a degree, to have ten assistants by the time he was twenty-five. But Steve never wanted that. Not Ever. Especially not after the tenth near-death experience.

He just wanted to have a family of his own. 

He wanted to be with you and to be still. That was all. 

“Besides, you always said you wanted a house husband,” he jokes with a crooked smile.

That makes you laugh. A giggle sputters from your lips before you can stop it. The sunshine feeling overpowers your lingering worry.

“I would like that,” you concur with a sheepish grin. 

You can picture it so clearly — Steve with a baby, greeting you with a kiss when you get home, a spit-up towel thrown over his shoulder, hair mussed and jaw stubbled. It was something dreams were made of. 

Your potential reality. 

Your future.

“We’re gonna be the happiest damn people on the planet, babe.”

You lean down to kiss him. It’s hard, though, because you’re both smiling so wide.

Your laughs entwine, pressed into one another, as Steve flops back on the bed and drags you down with him. He rolls you onto your sides, one hand propping his head up and the other resting on your belly. 

My kid is in there, he marvels in his head. This is where my baby’s gonna grow.

“What do you think about Apple?”

Your brows pinch together. “What?”

“For, like, a girl name?”

“…Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Apple for a girl and Wolfgang for a boy,” he jokes with a wide smile on his rosy lips. He shrugs. “And if we have twins, they can be Apple and Wolfgang. Really rolls off the tongue, don’t ya think?”

“You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

With your hands cradling his jaw, you pull him down for another interrupted kiss.

“What about Moon or— ah,” he gasps with wide eyes. “Or Rainbow?”

“Steve!” you groan.

“What? Tell me Rainbow Harrington isn’t the cutest damn name you’ve ever heard.”

“That is so not a baby name.”

“Anything can be a name if you make it a name,” he argues with all of his Steve Harrington sass. “Like Queen… Or Journey.”

“Yeah, let’s just name all our kids after your favorite bands,” you quip, giggling.

“I know you’re joking, but that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

You shake your head at this boy and his wild head filled with wilder thoughts. 

You sit in silence in your marveling, letting him ramble on — “There’s Roxy and Berlin and- wait, do you think babies can be named after numbers? Because, like, B-52 is a badass name. Sounds like something out of Star Wars, huh?” 

You can’t believe you married this man. You can’t believe you get to be married to this man.

You’re stuck with Steve Harrington and his dumbassery for life.

God, you can’t wait to spend forever with him.

[monzamash]

one of my kind — daniel ricciardo

daniel ricciardo x you (femreader) | 1.6k summary – getting high with daniel. warnings – 18+ (sex, coarse language, drug references) a/n – yay for the first instalment of the mm2k celebratioooon! shout out to the anon who sent this idea to me ages ago and to @percervall and another anon for sending me in prompts for daniel – love ya's!

It always ended like this – a web of tangled limbs, throats burning, tongues stoking the desire simmering somewhere deep within that was never set alight anywhere else, with anyone else. It was only ever a glance, knowingly across a room; catching bloodshot eyes and sending the signal. You both knew what you were doing, patiently waiting for the opportunity rarely given; supposedly distantly linked through mates, barely friends. Secretly fucking.

At every chance.

Too often for acquaintances.

But he had you floating in his cloud; covered in flames from the moment you walked in the room – dizzy from the promise of having him caught in yours. It was hypnotic the way you floated his way, natural; desperate to breathe in the sweet mix of spiced sandalwood and pot that was fused into your senses for the rest of time, giving you a fix that crawled across your skin; etched in your memory.

“How are ya?” He asked so nonchalant, so easy; as if he hadn’t been thinking about this since the moment you left his apartment in Los Angles weeks ago.

“Good, Daniel,” And desperately craving you, “How are you?”

The small talk was an act for your friends, for the people watching Daniel like a hawk – hidden in plain sight. It always began this way, pretence before the real show, before you snuck off to a quiet place – a bed, a couch or most often a bathroom, squeezed between a cold, chipping wall and the man who had you whimpering, begging to be touched.

It hasn’t been that long, he teased with no leg to stand on, sat back on a chaise lounge that had seen better days. Sunken and worn from the years of battering, witness to each cardinal sin – ruined like you were about to be. Daniel was hard to the touch when your fingertips traced the front of his pants, concealing the one thing that already had your eyes rolling, bewildered by the slurred promise whispered through his pearly smile.

“If you’re quiet, I can give you all of it, baby. None of this foreplay shit; the real deal. A promise that caused a chill to creep down your spine, fingers grasping every stitch of shirt between your thumping chests, nicotine lingering on your lips, his stained with your ruby red lipstick.

“Then don’t just sit there.”

You were impatiently standing between his knees, peering down through your lashes, fluttering and praying your desperation was endearing, not pathetic – attitude a plenty. And from the way Daniel leaned forward, grinning like a Cheshire cat and practically foaming at the mouth, you knew it was working. Intoxication and lust swirled into a cloud of arousal. Hormones hurried and sparks flying, cracking into the darkness and blowing away in the wind.

Fleeting. Temporary. A fix.

Daniel hiked up your skirt that had him plotting this moment from the second you walked through the door, laced panties barely covering any part of your pussy. As your thick thighs clenched his feverish hand, you needed his lips. A kiss from the devil in disguise, your kryptonite incarnate. Laid back, lazy smile, slurred Australian accent egging on your high as your hips rocked, separated from your mind.

“Use my thigh,” Daniel whispered, hoarse and gruff – a lump in his throat rivalling the one caged by the denim beneath.

“You’ve been looking at it all night anyways, haven’t ya?”

His suggestion caused a rippling moan to tumble, stifled by his thick neck you’d found yourself nuzzled into, sighing and moaning – messier than you would ever like to be with someone as majestic as Daniel. “I asked you a question.”

A hum was all you could manage, eyes closed as the high from the pipe you’d taken a hit from finally washed over you. That warm fuzzy feeling burning from your toes to the tips of your ears, a smile slowly slipping across your lips when you emerged from Daniel’s slick neck, pupils dark and blown out.

“But you promised it all, Danny.”

He laughed lowly, amused by the sweetness in your voice while your eyes told a different story entirely. He wanted you just as bad, cock twitching at the sound of your softly spoken words. Enamoured by your lazy movements, lapping against his dick, stiff beyond comprehension.

But of course you complied, desperately chasing some kind of release from the tension gathering in your stomach. Deeply entrenched and only awakened by the man guiding your sensitive clit against his tensed thigh. You’d never done this before, shamelessly gotten yourself off like this. It felt vulnerable when you dared to open your eyes, big brown doe ones staring back at you in awe.

“You are so fucking sexy.” Daniel doubled down, “Like, so sexy, I can’t cope.”

Your soft giggle escaped, causing his dimpled cheeks to deepen and hands to grip your bruising hips that little bit tighter, rocking you raw back and forth, angling you to the shape of his muscular thigh. Languidly building to the promise land, a string of moans lost to the quiet room. The only sounds were the soft hum of house music, clanking of glass bottles and your soft, silken cunt colliding with tanned, tattooed skin. Coming undone.

“I’ve been wondering what it feels like…” You huffed with stray hair sticking to your warm skin, hands desperately gripping Daniel’s strong shoulders and pulling yourself from his glistening skin.

“Like what feels like?”

All of this. All of you.

"Fucking you high."

"And?" Daniel asked, eyebrow quirked waiting for the verdict.

"So hot. Maybe too hot."

He hummed in agreement, tongue quickly swiping across his swollen lips, "Probably should be criminal." "I think it still is in some states..." You quipped, earning a genuine laugh from the man below. Enamoured by every thing you do.

Daniel peeled you apart, knees anchored beside his hips while you lined him up between your slick thighs, drenched with the thought of having him filling your tight hole. Finally, you muttered on your descent, feeling every curve, every bump, snug by your walls as you sunk down to his pelvis. A soft bated breath hitched beside your ear, husky and deep when you snapped your punishing hips, painfully perfect in every way. Sighing in synchronicity.

“Don’t tease.”

He loved to say things like that, a taunt for you to do exactly the opposite. A challenge to the finish line, racing for another kind of high – one that didn’t involve filling your lungs with smoke but just as dizzying. Daniel reached for the ashtray sitting on the arm of the lounge beside you, joint securely placed there while he attended to your needs.

And needy you were.

He placed the laxly rolled stick between his slightly parted lips, eyes never leaving yours as he took a drag and watched your neck turn a deep red. He loved you like this, pretty and wrecked because of him. Stealing the pleasure, taking what you wanted, taking over him. All of him, no inch left untouched. He swore he had died and gone to heaven when you snatched the joint from his mouth and placed it between your loose lips, sucking in the high and blowing it back into his face, smirk plastered across blushed cheeks while you watched his eyes close in aroused frustration.

“I’m gonna bust if you do shit like that,” He whispered, barely cracking a smile but you could see it. Subtle and just for you.

“Do it,” You pushed, “Come for me. Come inside me.”

Daniel looked up this time, a wicked laugh slipping past gritted teeth. He was trying to hold on, he was a gentleman after all – even if he was higher than a kite. But you looked like an angel fucking his dick; hands planted on his beating chest, tits bouncing under a shirt that was as sinful as the act itself. Thin and white, pert and fucking glorious. You were something else.

“You don’t want that mess, pretty girl. As much as it kills me to knock back that offer...” Daniel looked like a man tortured. Bitterly disappointed with the words leaving his own mouth as you sat back and rutted on his cock, egging him on just a little further until he grasped your arse in his palm, fingernails digging and making you wince, in pleasure and pain.

“Fine,” You huffed, eyes rolling, “Mouth?”

It was a simple question and it didn’t take long until you were swallowing the answer with teary eyes and the taste of him on your tongue. You loved it, really you did, watching him come undone, uncensored and on your knees – a front row seat. And of course Daniel made sure you got your fix with his mouth almost immediately attached to your cunt, making sure every single last drop was extracted before he came up for air – his stubbled chin glistening with the taste of you.

“You remind me of that INXS song,” He mumbled as you sat tangled together on the beaten up lounge, revelling in the brief silence before facing reality and sinking further into its secret-fuelled depths .

And seemingly into uncharted territory.

“Which one?”

The nest of curls on Daniel’s head brushed against the back of the lounge, smile lazy as he scanned your tired bloodshot eyes, “Need you tonight. You know, the sexy one?”

Your smile was coy, face burning again, “I’m familiar.”

“That’s a bitta’ you, I reckon.” His smirk grew larger the longer he watched you crumble and recoil from his stare, begrudgingly smitten.

It made sense for it to be your song. Steamy, sultry, frisky – sex almost always imminent when you found yourselves alone. Depraved and deprived, a dangerous cocktail of bad judgement. Is it a mistake if it happens more than once? More than a handful of times?

Or worse – what if it never stops?

“We’re cut from the same cloth, me and you,” He whispered, kiss pressed to your temple.

“You're one of my kind."

stay tuned for more one shots & blurbs celebrating the blog hitting 2k followers! thoughts? feelings? let me know! or click for more of my writing #monzamashmasterlist #mm2k

[nanamimizz]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐕𝚬𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘

tags: 18+ minors dni, fem reader, condom usage, established relationship, raw sex, creampie, mating press, overstimulation, dacryphilia, cervix fucking (mentioned once), manhandling - let me know if i miss something

synopsis: it’s your three year anniversary and barou knows exactly how to celebrate it, you don’t think you can take it.

Barou’s neat freakiness was well known but no one knew just how far it ran. In the same way, Barou had a specific routine for his day by day so did he have specific rules that would not be broken. Roll towels -do not fold them over, pair all socks immediately and keep all baskets in the washroom. He has rules about personal care too, his long warm-ups and cool-downs, and brushing his teeth three times a day.

And most of these things charm you in a way - seeing how detailed his red gaze makes you laugh behind your hand in a way that Barou thinks has no reason to be that cute. Well, all but one rule makes you laugh like that. Barou Shoei in the three years you’ve been dating after meeting at a high school reunion that ended with phone numbers being exchanged to tonight’s dinner coming to an end has been maintained without room for budging.

He always has to wear a rubber.

It was nice the first couple of months, even with being on the pill at first it made you almost purr seeing how adamant he was on it. After a year the charm had half worn off, any pleas fell on deaf ears after he had pulled you aside for a quickie only to realize his condom had expired. What resulted from that was you getting your thighs fucked and coming around nothing from the silky head of his cock nudging against your clit. The second year you had admitted to him that you no longer planned to take the pill, clearly subtlety wasn’t the strongest trait in the men of his family as it only made him more adamant on condom usage. 

It wasn’t until tonight - it’s your third anniversary and you both were changing for bed. He was in the bathroom, his hair down and smelling of soap as he looked at how you gently hung the pretty dress you wore for him but Barou can’t help but think about how much prettier you are dressed in ultra-soft leggings and a dark green long sleeve. He catches one last glimpse of you before turning back to the sink for the task of brushing his teeth. He had left his wallet on the counter, letting it flap in any way it wanted to and his eyes were caught on the raunchy yellow packaging almost neon in the soft lighting you installed in the bathroom.

Barou thinks profoundly for a moment and thinks about you and all the ways he loves you. He’s introduced you to his sisters that call him a loser whenever you are in their presence. You tell them to apologize as they whisk you away and he can catch their half-assed “sorry big brother sho!” on the air while he rolls his eyes at their antics. He gets you soy milk instead of cow milk, and he doesn’t call you a donkey or peasant. That might seem like a weird thing but for Barou that’s a big deal - is probably what you would say in his defense which makes him huff amusedly as he spits out the toothpaste in the sink. 

Barou takes the condom out of the folds of his wallet and it lands in the trash with a satisfying ‘flick’.

He comes out of the bathroom and he feels his shoulders drop at the sight of you carefully running a lint roller over his blazer before you zip up the covering, and tuck it away in the closet like you did with your own dress.

Yeah, Barou Shohei doesn’t need anything holding him back tonight.

Three years is a long time, and his hand twitched at the idea of finally having you the proper way, the right way. It’s apparent in the way he kisses you, big hands settling on the curve of your ass in those oh-so-soft leggings of yours that always make him ask you to walk in front of him. You gasp and whine when his tongue makes its way into your mouth - a king on a conquest and you concede without a battle. Your hands curl themselves into his shirt, fisting the fabric as Barou bends his back to have more of the taste of honey on your lips until his teeth ache. He’s sucking your tongue, tracing your teeth, groping, and grabbing at your cute ass. Barou delights in the wet and thin little sounds you make, and he pulls away when he has to not because he wants to. He takes joy in the thin glossy strings that trail after him.

You panting - all soft and thin little sounds that drive him crazy and you’re quick to bring a hand to cover your face when he squeezes your ass again. Barou is back to bumping heads with you, nudging your head with a hungry look in his eyes that makes you want to run and hide.

Lest you are found in the lion’s maw.

“More - I want more, I want to devour you.” He mumbles and you can feel the bass in his chest when he presses his own lips to yours and you gasp when you are met with tongue and teeth. You can only let out shudders of his name, gasps,, and whines because he keeps going until you feel your knees folding when met with the edge of the bed. A hand much bigger than yours goes from your ass to your chest and you find yourself flat on the bed. 

From above you, Barou is mighty, and from beneath him, you are divine.

“What’s - what’s gotten into you tonight?” You ask with swollen lips and stolen breath. Barou shakes his head, reaching under your comfortable clothes, and groans at the soft skin under his palms. You smell like the expensive lotion you splurge on, notes of jasmine and peonies are in the air and he thinks about how sweet the smell of your cunt would mix with them.

“It’s our anniversary you’re dumb if you think I’m not going to fuck you tonight.” He gruffs out, red eyes looking at the way you bite your lip and flush at his vulgar word choice. How someone as delicate as you got with him he’ll never know but he’s for sure not going to ruin his gift with insolence. Your shirt is off, his hands tug at the band of your leggings and he can’t help but let out a curse at the sight of pretty lace meeting him. He can see the curls of your hair through the sheer fabric and you hide behind your hand as he finishes tugging off your bottoms.

“You wear pretty things like this for me and you still thought I wouldn’t fuck you tonight?”  He almost growls at you and in return you turn away, unable to meet his gaze. Your undergarments look all the more dainty under his fingers when he tugs away the fabric and there’s a groan that is ripped from his chest when he sees the sticky strings of slick that cling to the gusset of the panties.

Your clit is hard, flushed among the petals of folds and your thighs jolt at his touch. His fingers can’t help but strum at it fast and rough, making you whine his name all high and pathetic. Red eyes look at how you shine in the soft golden lamps of the bedroom and moan at how just being played with the littlest bit makes you leak down his palm.

“Fuck, fuck you’re leaking it’s like you’re in heat for me.” He mutters from above you, letting a finger shallowly enter your cunt. Laughing when you tense up hips hiking and thighs popping shut, there’s something wicked in his vermillion gaze.

“You’re fucking cute, huh? Acting like you haven’t taken fucking my cock before?” He can see the sweat that drips down the side of your cheek and fights the urge to lick it up. You shake your head and it’s like your whole body trembles when you feel his finger sink further inside of you.

“It’s not that - just everything ah! Everything is sensitive t-today.” You gasp out and your eyes shut and you feel the telling sign of tears because Barou had slipped in another finger, curling it up into that spongy spot on your upper wall.

“Yeah? You need it bad, huh?” He asks you all mocking and cruelty because he knows, keeping a thumb at your clit and you feel like your brain is gonna melt out of your ears. You whimper into his smug grin and he laughs at your scrunched expression because you’re about to come for him. Despite being covered by your hair he can see how warm your ears are when your hands come to grip at the forearm of the hand that’s fucking your cunt with almost cruel precision. There are tears in your eyes as you cum with a squeal of his name - he can see his reflection in the shine and there is something vicious in his stomach that groans in approval at your pleasure-stricken face.

Barou tries very hard to be gentle with you, leaning into his better nature with tentative steps but right now with his head swimming with all the things he wants to do to you - he can’t help but want to be a villain. There’s nothing gentle with how he lets your orgasm crash and burn through you, your nerves buzzing and burning as you tremble beneath him. Your thighs are still shaking and your nipples are tight, his cock slaps against your folds; he moans with you at how the strings of your cum cling to the silk skin of its ruddy head. It rubs into your folds, and you feel tears drip down your cheeks because when one orgasm fuzzes out you still have more pleasure to traverse.

“Ah- wait, where’s the condom Sho-” You began to ask and you can only squeak when you feel the bare head of his cock being pressed into the opening between the petals of your cunt. Your hands had gone to clutch at his biceps - you had gotten your nails down for dinner tonight and Barou can’t help but moan at the sting.

“Not wearing one, I’m, fuck,” His head is in and Barou feels like the floor just swallowed him when he feels how hot you are. Barou is most familiar to your body, has seen it, and touched it the most intimately over the years. He’s felt your warmth and felt your slick when it would drip down to his balls but this..this was different. It feels like a punch to the gut, how you take him - a tight little fit because you’re in that time of the month when all your body can think about is cock. It’s like hot silk, pulpy and needy with how it drools around him and there’s a shiver that racks down his back when he feels a drop of your slick drip down a particularly sensitive vein down the left side of his cock. “I’m fucking you raw.”

His words are heavy in the air and you only let out soft girlish sounds when he pushes the rest of his cock in, long and heavy as it twitches inside of you. You’re losing your mind, it feels like the first time all over again and you feel like you’re going to sob your heart out with each inch that slips inside of you. Swallows around nothing and groans as he presses against your forehead when he feels himself slip the base. Is this how he could have had you for the past three years?

But it isn’t enough. Not like this.

 His hands go to grip your thighs so tightly you mewl at the sting, red eyes lock on where your bodies are joined and you feel the ache in your joints as his hands force your thighs further and further apart.

“A-ah, Shoei what are you doing?” You ask voice wobbling and thin as you feel yourself being manhandled, your weight shifting higher and higher on your upper back. The world tilts on its axis as you feel your ankles meeting the sturdy skin of his defined shoulders. The angle makes everything slip further - the head of his cock meeting a special sponge-like spot that makes you moan high and thin. It makes his cock twitch, eyes snapping up to watch how you keep the tears coming and you’re trembling all over.

“Trying to see what I've been missin’ all this time - tryin' to fuck you the right way.” He grunts out, voice thick and rough, racked with lust that he can’t contain. The first thrust feels like a freight train and you squeal like a mouse at the feeling of it, an adorable little tidbit but it isn’t what he wanted. He fucks you deeper, harder he’s sure there will be indents of his hips on your cute ass that ripples each time your bodies smack against each other. It’s too much for you, the weight, the length, and the strength of his cock. You’re too delicate at times and he feels your dainty hand come up to his pelvis, nails swiping at his stomach accidentally and he tries to [push past the way the sting makes him moan.

Barou wanted you to sound like a whore, just for him, just for tonight.

“You holdin’ out on me? Begged for my dick like this for years and now you have it you can’t take it?” He grunts at you, hiking you further up until you’re bent into a shape you’ve never been in. Your ankles are freely hanging in the air and your hands grip his biceps. Your shoulders and your cunt feel like a river - you don’t know how you’ll live with the embarrassment that you like being manhandled like this.

Barou feels like a beast and less of a man, he should have fucked you like this from the beginning because he can feel how you pulse, how you moan in time to the flutters of your walls and the throbs of your clit. You’re soaking him from tip to balls and he groans when he feels your slick drip down to his inner thighs. Thighs twitching at the idea of you creaming on his for the first time makes him ignore the burning in his core because Barou thinks if he’s denied that he’ll kill someone and he is desire is realized faster than he thought.

You fall apart with a wail - something too loud and deep in your chest he’s sure the next house overheard you and the thought makes him pump into you at an even pace. The stimulation makes the pleasure endure and it’s like watching the fibers of your mind being frayed right in front of you. Your cum is milky, thin, and opaque and Barou watches it froth at the base of his cock even spilling into the trimmed black hairs of his crotch. He moans because fuck, fuck this is what he’s been waiting for.

There’s a fog in your eyes and you wonder if you even have a brain anymore and when the too-hot pleasure pain from Barou’s thrusts keeps up you know you do. You peek down at where you two are connected and moans so weakly he wonders if he broke you. There are red scratch marks on his biceps and you gasping, stuttering over your words because God this is the best sex of your life.

“Di-did you cum, ah, Shoei?” You ask with a rocky voice and you whine in between the syllables because you feel the bump as the head of his cock meets a wall it’s never touched before.

“Nah - that’s just, fuck,” you twitched around him when he bumps into the wall of your cunt again,” that’s just fucking you and this messy cunt you got.” You moan with him at the same and your eyes have black rims around them from the remnants of mascara that you couldn’t get off but most certainly had cried off looking up to meet him. Barou doesn’t think you’ve ever looked more prettier than right now, and he thinks about how he’ll get to have this view again and again until you get sick of him.

Maybe that’s the thought that gets him - in time with the shuddering ache at his core of fucking you like an animal and he spills into you. You gasp his name, whining it out and Barou’s never felt like more of a man than right now as you watch how his cum leaks out of you; cunt swollen and puffy he can’t help but huff when he feels his cock twitch at the thought of filling you again. Your legs are still over his shoulders and he turns his head to press a kiss to the delicate slope of your calf.

“Hope you’re ready for the next round,” he mutters into your scented skin nipping at the delicate line of your ankles. “I still have more I want to devour.”

What a foolish thing you are, you’ve always been in the lion’s maw and what a lovesick thing you are turning away bashfully but still presenting yourself for him. Greedy things the two of you really.

[skzteez8]

Too Sweet | C.S

hello! this is the first installment of my Too Sweet Series. I will attempt to post a new member every week. Jongho coming next Saturday!

I tried to keep all descriptions as vague as possible so everyone felt included. this will go for all of these included in this series and most future works. please enjoy!!

not proofread!

☆FLUFF

☆idol!san x gn!reader

☆friends to lovers

warnings!! brief mention of food

masterlist

too sweet series masterlist

☆☆☆

Lounging on the couch, basking in the sun pouring in through the large windows that took up one whole wall in my apartment, I was enjoying the silence of my Sunday evening. The sun was setting slowly behind the buildings and high-rises in Seoul.

It had been a long and exhausting week at work, and all I wanted to do was enjoy my peaceful weekend, alone, to the fullest extent. I let the sun continue to warm my face. A sudden knock sounded from the door echoing through my small apartment. I groaned quietly as I pulled my body from the nest I had made for myself on the couch.

I walked out of the living room, through the kitchen, and past the bathroom down the front and only hall to the door. I looked at the security pad to see who was standing on the other side of the door. A smile spread across my face as I spotted the familiar figure on the screen.

I pushed the door forward and greeted the friend on the other side with a warm welcome. "San!"

"Hi Honey!" he chirped back with a smile, his dimples making a strong appearance.

I moved aside for him. Quickly removing his shoes, he shuffled down the hall, aiming for the couch. He stopped short, staring at the mess of blankets crowding the cushions.

"Living down here, I see," he said with a crooked smile.

Scratching the back of my neck, I replied truthfully, "Yeah... I've had a bit of a rough week, and making the steep trek up those stairs to my bed hasn't really sounded super inviting the past few nights."

We both glanced at the stairs to the loft. He let out a soft chuckle and plopped down on top of all the blankets. "Sounds like we've both had a shit week," he said, settling into the nest.

"Practice has been tough?" I asked, plopping down next to him, our shoulders touching. San nodded with a pout on his face. He leaned his head onto my shoulder. "I just can't get this choreography down. I've never had this much difficulty before."

"It must be so exhausting being so perfect and talented and handsome all the time," I sighed dramatically.

His pout intensified, "it really is." He nuzzled his head deeper into my shoulder. "Should we watch a movie and order food?"

After ordering food and deciding on a movie, we settled further into the couch. Once we finished our food, San draped his arm over my shoulders and pulled me closer to his side while the movie flashed across the screen. My eyes were getting heavier as the night grew darker. I was startled when I heard my alarm going off, my body giving a bit of a jump. San startled next to me at the movement. We were both lying across the couch, my head on his chest, and his arm draped around my waist. I reached over his head to grab my phone off of the end table and shut the alarm off. I groaned, putting my phone back down and my head back onto San's chest.

"What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Six in the morning," I yawned.

He groaned in response.

"I have to go to work, but you're more than welcome to stay and sleep. Here or in my bed," I said, crawling over him and shielding my eyes from the sun bouncing off the buildings across from my apartment.

I rushed upstairs to grab a change of clothes for the work day. Hurrying down to the bathroom, I changed my clothes and put on some light cosmetics. Finally, I fixed my hair to look presentable. I walked back over to the couch to find San dozing with an arm under his head. I grabbed my phone off of the table and leaned down over his face.

"I'll see you later," I said and kissed his forehead.

A lazy smile appeared on his face as he said, "Have a good day."

☆☆☆

I finally arrived back home after another long day of work. Kicking my shoes off and heading down the hall towards the kitchen, the smell of cooking food hit my nose. The counter was covered in ingredients, and a covered pot was on the stove. The bathroom door opened, and San appeared, drying his hands.

"I'm making your favorite as a thank you for last night," he said sheepishly.

I slowly smiled at San, "Well, I'm excited to have it."

☆☆☆

San didn't stay the night that night, but for the next couple of weeks, he was in and out of the apartment. We cooked together, watched movies and shows, and shared endless laughs and stories. Also, sharing the difficulties of our jobs with each other. Sometimes, he would come over, and we would indulge in our hobbies separately. Growing closer and more comfortable with each other every passing day. Sometimes, the lines felt blurred.

We currently sat on the couch having conversation while my favorite movie played quietly in the background.

"You know, Wooyoung asked me if we were dating today," he turned to me, a smirk appearing on his face. His arms were wrapped around my shoulders and mine around his torso.

"You and me?"

"No, me and him... Yes! You and me, silly!" he giggled.

"Oh..." I could feel my ears getting warm.

"What?"

"Nothing."

We sat in silence for a few moments.

"Honey? What are you thinking?" he squeezed my shoulders slightly. "Does the idea of us bother you? I didn't say anything definite..."

"What do you mean?" I turned to him slightly.

He turned his face away from me, his cheeks dusted in pink. "Well, I don't even know what we are anymore. If you just want to be only friends, we can be, but... ah, never mind."

He removed his arms from me, the loss of his warmth startling.

"San, look at me." He turned his face towards me. I took a deep breath. "I don't know what this is between us anymore." I gestured between our bodies and took another calming breath. "But I can't deny that I like having you around. You fill the space and make it feel warm. You make me feel warm."

A large smile spread across his face, silver lining his eyes. "You make me a better person. I've been wanting to tell you that because of my job, there isn't and has never really been a solid schedule in my life. But when I'm here and I'm with you, honey, I feel grounded. I didn't think that was possible for me."

He reached up, brushing a tear from my cheek. I didn't even realize I had started crying. I reached up to his face and wiped his own tears. We wrapped each other in our arms, embracing tightly.

We pulled away from each other. He placed his hands on either side of my face. "Can I kiss you?" he whispered.

"Yes," I whispered back.

His lips brushed mine and captured them in a chaste kiss. He pressed his lips back against mine, deepening the kiss.

Breathless, we pulled away from each other.

"I never want you to leave, Sannie."

"Trust me, I wont. You're too sweet."

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo | @kitsunechan707

Chapter 29

[Prev] [Next]

The last thing you and Law were able to fully enjoy together to prepare for the arrival of your babies was setting up the nursery in the second bedroom, after having your friends assist with clearing it out and cleaning up the carpet, that was.  Once completed, Law was now hunkered down to a strict schedule of meetings with almost hundreds of people in preparation for the biggest, longest, and most daunting surgery of his life.

But prior to that, he was able to spend an entire day with you, putting together cribs, assembling toys, installing two small dresser sets and changing tables, and organizing all of the baby clothing and supplies you received from your generous friends.  You had never seen Law more delighted, except maybe on your wedding day.  The way he carefully assembled one of the mobiles and hung it delicately over the top of one of the cribs brought a warm smile to your face.  As the days grew closer and closer, the thought of Law holding your babies made your heart flutter more and more.

The room was much smaller than your master bedroom, but it still had ample room as a nursery for two babies.  You had taken the opportunity (thanks in part to your lenient lease) to paint both of the walls a simple, muted mint-green color, calming to the eyes and yet still allowing the room to glow with light when the blinds were open.  Law had even bought a paper trim decorated with animal prints to place on the highest points of the wall, surrounding the corner where it touched the ceiling.  Both cribs were situated in opposite corners of the room, separated by a small window.  At the ends of both cribs sat their small dressers where their respective clothing, bedding, and supplies were stored, and above the dressers sat their changing tables and changing mats.  The rest of the room was dedicated to storing their plethora of toys until they were old enough to begin playing and exploring their world.  In your kitchen, two high chairs were placed against the wall, ready to be used at your table.  Two car seats with sturdy handles and foldable sun covers were ready and waiting in your extra closet, along with the folded up double stroller.  In your bathroom, Law had installed a small additional storage container for you to keep your unused breastfeeding supplies in, which he insisted on sterilizing three times a week despite not being touched yet.  Everything was ready to go, now the only thing left to do was wait.

But now, Law was spending more and more time at the hospital, which you completely understood, but that he lamented over.  Before he left every single day, and the second he returned home from however long his shift was, he kissed you on the lips before traveling down and planting two tender kisses against your bump.  The bump of which had become quite the hindrance as you approached the 36 week mark.  You were at 34 now, and according to Robin, your twins’ organs were fully developed and they’d be able to breathe on their own once born… whenever that was.

And while you were happy to have made it to 34, overjoyed even, the Braxton Hicks contractions were incredibly annoying.

“They are not indicative of labor,” your doctor had said.  “Trust me, you’ll know when your contractions go from false alarms to actual labor.”

You took her word for it.  But that didn’t make the 30 second increments of sudden cramping rippling across your belly at all hours of the day any better.  Sometimes, the pain would subside for an hour or two before coming back in full.  And they weren’t agonizingly painful, but they were prevalent enough that it was near impossible to ignore them.

While Law was at work more and more frequently in preparation for the surgery, Shachi and Penguin basically moved in with you.  They were walking Bepo, feeding Bepo, playing with Bepo, kissing Bepo, all while you were laying on your couch like a log.  A log with a huge belly and spontaneous Braxton Hicks contractions.

“What does Mama want?” Penguin asked from your kitchen, rifling through your pantry.

“Please don’t call me ‘Mama,’” you groaned.  It was endearing when Law did it, and very awkward when anyone else did.

“Got it.  What does the fat woman on the couch want?” he called back.

“Don’t make me come over there and stab you,” you yelled.  “I’m cranky enough as it is.”

Shachi emerged from the bathroom down the hall.  “Penguin quit bugging her.  That’s my job.”

“You guys are going to make me deliver early,” you snipped.

“Give the poor woman some food,” Shachi demanded, driving a harsh spank against Penguin’s ass through the man’s cargo shorts, resulting in a high-pitched yelp.  That finally forced a smile to break out on your face.

“I’m glad to see you two finally came to your senses,” you chided, trying to push yourself up against the armrest of your couch where a pillow was situated against your back to support you.  “What’s it like having graduated from roommates to sex?”

“It’s the exact same, but way hotter,” Shachi replied with a mischievous, toothy smile.

“Okay, I’m sorry for calling you fat, please stop talking about my sex with this lunatic,” Penguin groaned, emerging from your pantry with a few unopened boxes of pasta while you and Shachi giggled over his modesty.  “How does a simple baked ziti sound?”

You moaned from the couch.  “That sounds heavenly.”

Shachi left the kitchen to enter the main living space with you, sitting on the floor with his legs spread and allowing Bepo to crawl onto his lap.  “Nervous?” he asked, looking up at you.

Your hands soothed over your belly as another false contraction rippled through you in waves.  “More than nervous.  But I’ve been trying not to think about it.  I’m worried that too much stress will induce labor.”  After a brief pause, you added, “I’m worried that everything out of the ordinary will induce labor.”

The redhead hummed beside you, idly stroking the soft fur of Bepo’s head as the dog began to fall asleep on his lap.  “Do you have a hospital bag packed?”

You nodded.  “Law packed one for me a week ago.  It has all of our stuff in it… it’s pretty heavy.  He said, ‘If anything happens while I’m away and you have to go into L&D, have either Shachi or Penguin take this to the hospital.’”

“What’s ‘L&D’?” asked Penguin from the kitchen as he dumped two boxes of pasta into a large pot of boiling water.

“Labor and Delivery,” you clarified.  “We’re all assuming a lot of this is going to be spontaneous, so there’s no real indication of when I’ll have to go in because… well, we don’t know when I’ll give birth,” you explained.  “Most moms with one baby give birth at around 40 weeks, give or take.  But with twins, the average is apparently 36.  And I’m at 34.”

Shachi whistled through his lips.  “So it really could be at any moment.”

“Great time for Law to have to replace a man’s organs, huh?” Penguin piped up from the kitchen.

You laughed.  “The timing couldn’t have been better!”

The smell of baked ziti very slowly began to permeate your apartment as Penguin cooked, Shachi doted on Bepo, and you lounged on the couch, standing intermittently to continue to stretch your legs.  The contractions didn’t stop, if anything they increased in frequency as time slowly ticked away.  And every once in a while, one of your babies would kick against your muscle.

—

Law was fighting with every fiber in his body to stay awake.  He was leading his surgical team, for crying out loud.  He needed to be front and center for this meeting.  He drove the tip of his pencil through his pant leg into the flesh of his thigh to snap him out of his dozed state.  God, he needed coffee.

At the front of the conference room, directly in front of where Law sat, was the head of the hospital’s Transplant Transport team, which Law’s team joked was a very humorous name.  He was quite a stocky older man with a distended belly that barely fit into the gray dress shirt he had tucked into his slacks.  He was going through an itinerary on a pulled-down projector screen.  

“The patient, to remind those of you who just arrived, is a 51 year old man with a history of cardiopulmonary failure.  He has had two open heart surgeries in the past, and suffered a collapsed lung in his youth.  Both he and his family have been willing to try every treatment possible, and that is why we are meeting here today.  As far as I am aware, this hospital has never performed a double heart-lung transplant before, am I correct?”  He turned his attention to Law, who crossed on leg over his knee, asking silently for the lead surgeon’s approval.

“Correct,” Law affirmed, nodding his head.

“Dr. Trafalgar, would you mind walking your team through the procedure step-by-step?” the man asked, stepping aside to allow Law room to stand up in front of the packed conference room.

With a silenced grunt, Law stood up and smoothed his white doctor’s coat over his chest.  He took a deep breath and turned to face the room.  In front of him, every seat at the table and scattered chairs against the wall were filled by his surgery team, ICU nurses and doctors, hospital technicians involved with the case, and members of the Transplant Transport team.  “The surgery is scheduled to begin at 8:00 AM on May 12th.  That morning, a helicopter will be arriving with the heart and lungs from the donor patient, where they will then be transported by the transplant team to our operating room and hooked up to an artificial body where they’ll be kept living while we remove the damaged tissue from our recipient.  A coronary bypass machine will be used to keep the patient alive while his organs are removed and replaced.  This is the simple explanation, whenever everyone’s ready, I will begin discussing the more heavy aspects of the procedure.”

A few nods and curt words of consent were shared amongst the room.  Law took a deep breath and began speaking once more.

—

You were sitting naked on your bed, having just gotten out of the shower, when your phone started buzzing on your bedside table.  Your husband’s name popped up, immediately making you smile.

“Hey, baby!” you called into the receiver.  “How’d the presentation meeting go?”

A long, pent up sigh was heard through the speaker, making your heart pang with sympathy.  [About as good as it could’ve.  It’s hard explaining a 15 hour surgery to a group of 50-some-odd people.]

“Do you think your team is ready for it?” you asked, using one hand to slather moisturizing lotion onto your knees and calves.

[I think so.  I mean, I damn hope so.  I’ve had a lot of my nurses and team members review the same materials I’ve been studying to make sure everyone is on the same page.  As the day gets closer, I’m having my assistants complete simulated operations on their down time.]

“You can do that?”

[It’s a teaching hospital, we’ve got plenty of equipment.]

You grinned, dropping your legs and falling backward onto your bed, rubbing your belly with one hand while your other held your phone to your ear.  “Well, that’s good.”

Law’s voice hummed in agreement.  You heard him take another deep breath.  [I miss you.]

A part of you wanted to joke that he was only about five minutes away, but you knew what he meant.  He was missing the last few weeks of your pregnancy, something he had wanted to avoid since the two of you started trying for a baby.  It was vital to him that he was there to support you, to protect you, but once again, he wasn’t.  He was kept away from you by his taxing job, a job that he loved with a deep passion, but one that fought with his unwavering commitment to you.

Instead of commenting something witty in response, you replied with, “I know… I do too.”  A thought came into your mind, something you had read earlier in the day while your friends were out with your dog.  “Hey… Law?”

[Yeah, baby?]

“I know it’s hard to ask this over the phone but… I read online that parents with twins are more likely to suffer relationship breakdown.”

Law seemed to know what you were alluding to immediately, even without you having to explicitly state your worry.  [Remember everything I’ve been telling you?  About how much I love you and how that’s not going to change at any point?]

A smile tugged to your lips.  “Yeah…”

[Relationships break down because of stress.  But we’re good at working things out together.  We jump through hurdles at the same time because we communicate and we love each other.  That’s not going to change with babies.  Even with two new mouths to feed instead of one.]

“Your words always help me feel better,” you sighed into the receiver.  “I love you.”

[Get some rest, sleeping beauty.  I love you, too, always.]

—

34 weeks turned into 35.

The waiting was starting to take years off of your life, you thought.

Shachi and Penguin had bunked up in your living room.  You only saw your husband about three times while he prepared religiously for the operation.

Somewhere at another hospital, a comatose man was being prepped and signed off to be removed from life support and have his organs harvested.  And ten minutes from your apartment, a middle-aged man with his own family was getting ready to receive them.

And you were carrying two babies in your womb.  Two babies who, according to your very last ultrasound, were both facing head-first toward your cervix.  It was looking like a completely natural birth would be possible, as long as no complications arose in the moment.

Hopefully, according to your latest health workup, everything would be fine.  Your blood pressure had remained steady throughout your pregnancy, all of your blood panel conditions had been very healthy.  Your body felt ready, if the constant Braxton Hicks contractions were anything to go off of.

It was just.  The.  Waiting.

Your journal was almost completed.  You only had two more pages before your prompts switched to journaling the post-birthing experience.

You uncapped your pen and began writing.

[macksartblock]

Projecting my own teen experiences onto the kiddads bc I’m out of the house rn and I think it’s funny

Terry: took a parenting class in 12th grade and on the first night of his culminative assignment he ended up crying, naked wrapped in a towel, on the bathroom floor after the robot baby interrupted him pre-shower.

Lark: left for school in the morning then walked around for two blocks before heading back home, after his parents went to work. Snuck in through his bedroom window on more than one occasion, when either parent stayed home. Did this for a week straight.

Sparrow: got clocked as aspec before he even realized while out at a cafe during lunch with Rebecca, but she told him she didn’t mind because she’s good with her hands and can just think about him??

Grant: while on a date w/ his high school boyfriend at the fair, his boyfriend’s mother tracked him down just to argue with him. Grant attempted to slip away to offer some privacy but his boyfriend kept an iron grip on his hand, so he spent the next several minutes awkwardly turned away from the argument.

Nick: during an orthodontist appointment, was recommended to install metal springs because he kept forgetting to wear his elastics. Without even discussing it, Jodie gave the okay for the springs but the smallest size available were too big - therefore not installed - and Nick refused to speak to Jodie for the rest of the day.

[satureja13]

Saiwa stirred a few times during the night, antsy to go back to his computer to search for Tiny Can, but Jeb didn't losen his arms around him. As promised. Even though it's weird to not see Sai's reflection in the mirror - and his froathy toothbrush hovering in the air, Jeb couldn't be happier. He was craving Sai's return back to their home. Standing here in his bathroom, brushing his teeth together with Kiyoshi, just wasn't the same. Jeb wished Sai would move in with him. But he knows Sai wouldn't want this. No matter how much he loves Jeb, Sai needs his freedom - and alone time.

And before Sai even bothered to get dressed, he ran over to the Corner Store, to call Rubyn over their only connection to the mundane world - their Post Office Device. Maybe she has an idea how to track down the tin can. After their fruitless search in the Otherworld, it was clear that Tiny Can had managed to leave somehow. So he must be in the Muggle World.

And after Sai gave Rubyn a brief overview about what happened, Rubyn offered to order a few upgrade parts for her devices so they should be able to find a signal of Tiny Can. This would take her a few days, but then the Boys could come over and help her setting everything up and track down the fugitive Astromech. Rubyn also asked Sai to bring along their Therapy Game Server. Some components would be useful since Tiny Can had been connected with the server they installed in the basement to run the game.

And while Sai was chatting with Rubyn, the Post Office Device was already busy sending their produce over to the mundane world, so Noxee could sell them. The Boys urgently need to make money. To pay for their school fees and for Rubyn's help - again... Eventually Jack called Sai for breakfast, but he wasn't hungry. Where are they supposed to get all that money from?

He talked about his worries to the others. It took them months to pay back the last loan. And now they have two big expenses to cover.

But Vlad reassured him. Their produce, crafted in the Otherworld, sell at top prices among creatures all over the worlds. No one can stay here for longer, let alone craft something, so anything from the Otherworld is precious - and of high value. And while Jack, Ji Ho and Sai lived at the Beach House to develop the Therapy Game, Vlad, Jeb and Kiyoshi worked hard and made enough money to pay back the last loan. They'd even been able to put a good amount aside.

Sai was relieved. This would be enough to buy the components Rubyn mentioned and athena already agreed to give them the loan for their school fees. Phew, finally a silver lining at the horizon! Sai's appetite was back and he enjoyed having breakfast all together back at their home. He looked lovingly at his friends. They have a few days now until they'll have to leave for the muggle world to meet Rubyn, so Vlad and Ji Ho have at least some time to recover between teleporting them around...

And so they seized the days with work. There had been lots and lots of inspiration over the last weeks. Whenever he had time to breathe, Ji Ho scribbled down and recorded ideas for songs, so he was able to finish a few in the short amount of time they have. And now, that he is in contact with his feelings again, his songs have more emotional impact and hit deeper. He does not even need to put any of his Siren's Song magic in them to achieve this.

Vlad was writing and painting. Also with fresh ideas for his novels and stories. And now that Ji Ho is finally able to love him, his paintings are much brighter and more meaningful. And whenever Ji Ho needed a break to sort the creative overflow in his head, he did the chores. More often than not, he ended up in Vlad's room. Which made Vlad smile contently, and his fingers flew over the keys with new inspiration and confidence.

Jack and Kiyoshi worked happily in their wine and cheese shop. Both, nectar and cheese, age well here in the Otherworld and develop an unique taste that is nowhere else to be found. And, as we see in the pic below, they are crafted with love.

The fresh, organic produce from their garden and greenhouse made the nectar and Jeb's potions even better.

Jeb mastered his jewelry skill and with the metals and crystals he found in the Otherworld, he crafted the most wonderous enchanted jewelry.

And Sai kept in touch with Rubyn. They are working on the program to track down the tin can... Let's just hope they find Tiny Can and give the money - he somehow stole - back before someone finds out what happened o.o

'Look into my eyes you will see What you mean to me Search your heart, search your soul And when you find me there, you'll search no more Don't tell me it's not worth tryin' for You can't tell me it's not worth dyin' for You know it's true Everything I do, I do it for you, for you, yeah Look into your heart you will find There's nothin' there to hide Take me as I am, take my life I would give it all, I would sacrifice Don't tell me it's not worth fightin' for I can't help it, there's nothin' I want more You know it's true Everything I do, I do it for you, yeah There's no love like your love And no other could give more love There's nowhere unless you're there All the time, all the way Look into your heart babe

No You can't tell me it's not worth tryin' for Just can't help it, there's nothin' I want more Yeah, I would fight for you, I'd lie for you Walk the wire for you, yeah, I'd die for you You know it's true Everything I do, ooh, yeah, I do it for you, yeah'

Everything I do - Bryan Adams

Outtakes

Kumo's combat training with the goat dummy ^^'

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