#I FORGOT> WHAT BRING IT ON WAS CALLED. i kept typing 'get up' and 'get down' and being like no.. that cant be it...

[meangirlbracket]

Mean Girl Bracket - Round 2 Poll 12

[jupiterpilgrim]

Swallow the Pill

Kim Minjeong (Winter) x Male Reader

word count: 17K

The duffle bag is halfway zipped when your phone buzzes on the dresser. You glance over, one hand on a folded towel, already thinking it’s the group chat. Maybe they’re early, maybe someone forgot sunscreen—typical. Instead, the name “Winter” flashes on the screen. The towel drops from your hand as you frown at it.

Winter...

You haven’t heard from her in a few days, not since that weirdly intimate coffee date where she’d kept looking at you like you hung the moon. Cute, sure, but intense. A little too much. You two weren’t even a thing. A couple of drunken makeouts at parties, a handful of late-night texts, and maybe one date that leaned dangerously into feelings territory. That’s it.

Her message is short and loaded:

"Hey, are you busy?"

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard for a second. You start typing.

"Kinda. Packing for the beach. What's up?"

The reply comes back fast, like she was waiting for you to answer.

"I’m sick. Really sick. Can you come over?"

You squint at the screen, reading the message twice. Sick? What the hell? You fire back.

"What do you mean sick? Like hospital sick? Are you okay?"

She sends an emoji—one of those pitiful, droopy ones—then another message:

"No hospital. Just the flu or something. I feel awful. Need help."

It takes a second for it to sink in. She must be joking. You stare at the phone, genuinely confused. She has friends, right? Family? Someone closer to her than the guy she’s hooked up with two or three times?

You type:

"Why me? Don’t you have someone else? Friends? Relatives? A neighbor?"

The response is instant:

"Everyone’s busy. And you’re close.

Please, daddy."

Your stomach lurches at the word. She called you that last time you were together too, whispered it in your ear with a grin, like she knew exactly how to get under your skin. You run a hand down your face and reply:

"Don’t call me that."

"Sorry. Please, though. I’m really sick. Can’t even get out of bed. Just need a little favor."

She adds a sad face this time, really driving it home. You stare at your duffle bag, then back at the phone, then back at the duffle.

You’re not her boyfriend. You’re not even really sure what you are. A fling? A pastime? The guy who texts back at 2 a.m.? And yet, there’s this strange pull. The idea of her alone in her apartment, small and helpless, buried under blankets, sniffling. It needles at you.

You type one last message:

"What exactly do you need me to do?"

Her reply is shameless.

"Take care of me. Bring some meds or soup or something. I’ll owe you big."

You know you should say no. You know you should zip the bag, throw it over your shoulder, and walk out the door to meet your friends. But something makes you hesitate.

Is it guilt? Curiosity? Some twisted sense of responsibility for this girl you don’t even know that well? You sigh, tapping out your final surrender.

"Fine. Be there soon."

You throw the duffle bag in the closet. Goodbye, beach. Goodbye, carefree weekend of sun and booze and forgetting your responsibilities.

Winter, you think, had better be worth it.

—

The plastic bags rustle against your leg as you climb the stairs to Winter’s apartment, the fucking elevator is being fixed, and it gives you more time to think about what exactly you're doing. You should have just told her to order delivery. Or called one of her real friends. Or just—anything but this. But here you are, with cold medicine, snacks, and a pint of strawberry ice cream you’re pretty sure she likes because she mentioned it that one time when you were half-listening.

Her messages played through your head the whole drive over. Fever. Headache. Sneezing. She hadn’t sounded dramatic—just miserable enough to guilt you into dropping your plans.

Her door is slightly ajar, probably because she didn’t want to get up to let you in. You knock anyway, a couple of quick raps, and her voice floats out, soft and faint.

“Come in!”

You push the door open and step inside. The place is small, tidy, and unmistakably her. Neutral tones with little bursts of pastel here and there. A fluffy pink throw draped over a beige couch. A single framed photo of a seaside sunset on the wall. It smells faintly of lavender, like one of those candles she’s probably obsessed with.

And there she is, sprawled on the couch, wrapped in the thinnest blanket imaginable. She’s wearing this oversized long-sleeve shirt that probably hits mid-thigh. Her dyed-blonde hair’s a bit of a mess, and her cheeks are faintly flushed. She looks like some kind of sickly cherub, both pitiful and oddly… attractive in her vulnerability.

“Hey,” you say, unsure where to stand, so you hover awkwardly by the door. “How’re you feeling?”

She shifts, sitting up just a little, her voice soft and nasal. “So-so. Better now that you’re here, though.”

You ignore the flutter of something in your chest and hold up the bag. “I got some stuff. Medicine. Snacks. Ice cream, too.”

That perks her up. Her eyes brighten a little. “Ice cream?”

You mumble something barely audible, already heading to her tiny kitchenette. “Yeah. Strawberry. Figured it’d help with the sore throat or whatever.”

She murmurs a soft “thank you” as you stash the pint in her freezer, then return to the living room. You glance around for a place to put the rest of the stuff and end up dumping it on her coffee table. She looks at you with those big, tired eyes, and you feel like you’ve just handed over some priceless treasure instead of a few basics.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she says quietly, though there’s a small, pleased smile tugging at her lips.

“Well, I’m here now,” you reply, shrugging. Then, unable to help yourself, you add, “Though it’s a shame it’s under these circumstances.”

Her lips quirk. “Yeah. I was the one missing you, and this is what I get. Karma’s cruel, huh?”

You kneel beside the couch, reaching out almost automatically to check her temperature the old-fashioned way. The back of your hand brushes her forehead, warm but not alarming. Her skin is smooth, softer than you’d expected.

“Doesn’t feel like much of a fever,” you say, trying to sound neutral.

“It’s mild,” she admits, leaning into your hand slightly like it’s instinct. “But I still feel awful. Weak. Kinda lightheaded.”

“Mm.” You pull your hand back, studying her for a moment. “Have you eaten anything today?”

She hesitates, her gaze sliding to the side. That’s answer enough.

“Of course not,” you mutter, exasperated but not surprised. “All right. Medicine first, then you’re eating something. I didn’t give up my beach weekend to watch you wither away on this couch.”

Her laugh is soft and a little hoarse, but it’s there. “You’re bossy. I like it.”

You don’t bother replying, already rummaging through the bag for the cold meds. She watches you the whole time, a small, lazy smile on her lips. It’s like she knows something you don’t, and for some reason, that makes you a little nervous.

You pull a pill packet out of the bag and pop one free, holding it out for her like you’re a nurse on shift. She looks up at you, her nose scrunched. “What is it?”

“Magic,” you deadpan, before grabbing the nearest glass off her coffee table, rinsing it in the sink, and filling it with water. You return and plunk it in her hand. “Just take it. It’s for the headache and fever.”

Winter pouts but obediently swallows the pill, washing it down with the water. Her throat bobs as she drinks, and for some reason, you notice her lips lingering on the rim of the glass. You shake it off and clear your throat. “You got anything in the kitchen? Like, soup stuff?”

She blinks, like she has no idea what you’re talking about. “Maybe? I think there’s... carrots? And, um, potatoes?”

“Perfect,” you say dryly, already heading to the fridge. “Soup à la ‘whatever I can find.’”

She props herself up on her elbow, watching you rummage through her cabinets. “Do you even know how to make soup?”

“Nope,” you reply without missing a beat. “But YouTube does.”

Her laugh is soft and raspy. “Good luck, Gordon Ramsay.”

You glance back at her, smirking. “Keep that energy, sick girl.”

—

It takes longer than you’d like—turns out soup’s a bit more complicated than just dumping water in a pot and crossing your fingers—but eventually, you’ve got something that vaguely smells edible. It’s hot, steaming in a bowl, and you’re honestly a little proud of yourself.

You bring it over and hand it to her. She takes it with both hands, peering into the bowl like it’s a work of art.

“Wow,” she murmurs, a small grin tugging at her lips. “It looks legit.”

“Don’t jinx it,” you mutter, sinking into the armchair across from her.

She spoons some up, blowing on it gently before taking a sip. Her eyes widen just slightly. “Hey, this is actually good.”

“You sound shocked,” you say, leaning back. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

She grins, small and sheepish. “Sorry. I just didn’t expect you to... you know... be so domestic.”

You shrug, trying to play it off. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. This was a one-time deal.”

She finishes the soup slowly, savoring each bite like it’s some kind of rare delicacy. When she’s done, she sets the bowl aside and looks at you. “Thanks. Really. I feel better already.”

You wave her off, standing up and brushing your hands on your jeans. “No big deal. If anything happens, just shoot me a message.”

Her head tilts. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” you say plainly. “There’s still soup in the kitchen. You can heat it up later if you’re hungry. And like I said, message me if you need anything else.”

Her hand shoots out, grabbing yours. Her grip is soft but firm, and it stops you in your tracks. “Don’t go.”

You hesitate, looking down at her. “Winter...”

“Part of the treatment depends on you staying with me,” she says, her voice light but pleading. Her eyes—big, dark, and slightly glassy—fix on yours. It’s unfair. A total cheat code.

“Come on,” you sigh, trying to pull back. “I’ve already—”

“Please,” she interrupts, tugging you closer. “I get clingy when I’m sick. I need you here.”

You groan, exasperated but helpless. Her face is too damn convincing, her voice too soft. Before you know it, you’re sinking down onto the couch next to her, and she’s leaning into you, her arms sliding around your waist in a loose, warm hug.

“You're too dramatic,” you mutter, but your arms move on their own, wrapping around her small frame.

She lets out a quiet sound—half sigh, half happy grunt—and burrows into your chest like she’s been waiting all day for this. “Thank you,” she whispers.

You sigh again, defeated. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t milk it.”

She just smiles against you, holding on tighter. And somehow, you don’t mind.

—

It’s one of those nights where nothing feels rushed, where time slips by in lazy waves. You’re at one of your friends' house, slouched on his shitty couch that’s seen too many parties and not enough Febreze. A game’s on in the background, the volume turned low enough that no one’s paying attention, and the room smells like pizza grease and beer. Everyone’s in that late-night haze where conversation loops into nonsense—who’d win in a fight between Superman and a shark, or the ethics of hot dog toppings.

You’ve got a cold beer in your hand, halfway through your third or fourth, when your phone buzzes on the armrest.

It’s Winter. She had sent you other messages earlier, But you didn't see them. Or you chose not to.

For a second, you just stare at her name on the screen. It’s been a week since you hooked up at that party, and yeah, you’ve texted a bit. Casual stuff. Songs, memes, “what’s your favorite color” bullshit. You’ve been trying to keep it light. She’s cool, and that’s the problem. Cool girls are trouble. They make you think too much, want too much, and you’ve got enough on your plate without adding emotions to the mix.

Still, curiosity wins. You pick up the phone and open the message.

"What r u doing?"

Simple. Innocent. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. You could lie. Say you’re busy. But why bother?

"Chillin at a friend’s. What about you?"

Her reply comes quick.

"Thinking about you."

You blink at the screen, your brain short-circuiting for a second. The bottle in your hand feels heavier.

"Oh yeah?"

She doesn’t reply right away this time. It’s maybe two minutes of nothing, enough time for one of your friends to ask you a question about the game, for someone else to start laughing about God-knows-what. You nod along, distracted, and then your phone vibrates again.

"Yeah... You were really fun at the party. ;) I kinda wanna see you again."

Your heart does this stupid skip thing, and you tell yourself it’s just the beer. She’s probably just bored. Horny. You tell yourself to play it cool.

"Is that so?"

The next message hits different.

"Come over."

Two words. That’s it. And then, right after, the low blow: a picture.

It’s not outright explicit, but it doesn’t have to be. She’s in these tiny-ass pajamas—shorts so loose you can see the curve of her thigh, a top hanging off one shoulder like it’s about to slide off completely. Her blonde hair’s a little messy, like she’s been rolling around on her bed, and her lips are pouty, her eyes big and innocent, like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing.

She knows. She fucking knows.

Your friends are still talking, still laughing, oblivious to the war happening inside your head. You take another sip of your beer and stare at the photo.

"What’s the catch?"

She replies with another picture. This one’s worse—or better, depending on how you look at it. The shorts have ridden up higher, and her hand’s resting on her bare thigh, just teasing enough to make you swallow hard.

The caption?

"No catch. Just... us."

You’re toast. Game over. Whatever thin line of resistance you had is gone. You drain the rest of your beer in one long gulp and stand up, grabbing your jacket.

“Where you going?” one of your friends asks, looking up from his half-dead vape pen.

“New plans,” you say, keeping it vague, keeping it casual. No one needs to know.

You text Winter on your way out the door:

"On my way."

Her reply comes immediately, a simple:

"Good. Door’s unlocked. You already know the address."

And just like that, you’re heading into the night, her photos burned into your brain and your chest pounding like you’ve already lost a game you didn’t even know you were playing.

—

The elevator hums faintly, a low mechanical noise that fills the silence as you lean against the wall, hands shoved in your jacket pockets. The building smells faintly of floor cleaner and old carpet, and the dim light overhead flickers every few seconds. You glance at the number ticking upward, trying to focus on anything but the flood of memories crowding your head.

The party. You hadn’t planned on much. Show up, grab a drink, maybe stick around long enough to prove you weren’t a total recluse. You weren’t exactly in a social mood, but your friends had dragged you along anyway, saying something about getting you out of your funk. You weren’t even there ten minutes before you saw her. Kim Minjeong.

Winter, as she likes to be called.

She’d practically lit up the room. Blonde hair catching the crappy strobe lights, this magnetic energy that somehow felt both chaotic and easygoing at the same time. You’d been nursing your beer, trying to stay inconspicuous, when she caught your eye and grinned like she already knew all your secrets. It wasn’t long before she was laughing at some half-assed joke you made, her laugh contagious, her hand brushing your arm. Flirting came naturally, her words laced with playful teasing.

And then—your place. Her legs wrapped around you, her breathy moans filling the room as your name spilled from her lips. The way she pulled you closer like she couldn’t get enough, the way her nails dug into your back when you made her come. This story was repeated at another party, then another. And now...

The elevator dings, snapping you back to reality.

You step out into the hallway, the carpet muffling your steps as you make your way to her door. Your stomach twists—anticipation, nerves, maybe a bit of both. The memory of her last message sits heavy in your chest. "Door’s unlocked."

You knock lightly anyway, out of habit, before pushing the door open.

And then she’s there.

Winter launches herself at you like a bullet, arms flinging around your neck, her body colliding with yours so fast you almost stumble back. Your hands fly to her waist instinctively, steadying her, and she clings to you like you’ve been gone for months.

“You came,” she breathes. Her face is so close to yours, her warm breath brushing your cheek, her big eyes looking up at you like you’re the answer to every unspoken question.

“Yeah, I—”

Before you can finish, she presses her lips to yours.

Her kiss is needy, urgent, like she’s been waiting all night for this moment. Her hands move to your hair, fingers tangling in it as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss. You tighten your grip on her waist, her small frame fitting against you perfectly. Her lips are soft and slightly sweet, probably from whatever she’d been drinking before you got here.

You walk her backward, barely breaking the kiss long enough to navigate, until you feel the edge of the couch hit your legs. You sit down, pulling her with you so she lands on your lap, her thighs straddling yours.

“Miss me?” she teases, her lips brushing against yours as she speaks.

“Not sure,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm, though your hands are already sliding down her sides. “Depends on how much trouble you’re planning to cause tonight.”

Her grin is wicked, her eyes sparkling as she cups your jaw. “A lot. Is that gonna be a problem?”

“Probably,” you murmur, leaning up to kiss her again.

She hums against your mouth, her fingers tracing along your jawline. “Good,” she whispers. “I like being your problem.”

You laugh, pulling back just enough to look at her. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Mm, you love it.”

You don’t respond, but the way your hands grip her hips says enough.

Her lips barely leave yours as she speaks, her words soft and breathy between kisses. “Why didn’t you answer my calls earlier?”

The question lands like a curveball, and for a second, you freeze. Her hands are still in your hair, her hips firmly planted on your lap, but she’s pulled back just enough to study your face. Her eyes are sharp, curious, and maybe a little accusing.

“I was busy,” you reply, trying to sound casual as your hands settle on her waist.

Winter narrows her eyes, her head tilting slightly like she’s not buying it. “Too busy to pick up the phone? Really?”

You sigh, leaning back into the couch, though your hands don’t leave her hips. “I answered your texts, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, after I sent about ten,” she counters, her lips twitching like she’s trying not to smile.

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. “More importantly, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

She seems to consider that for a moment, her fingers idly playing with the hair at the nape of your neck. “Okay, fine. You get a pass... this time.”

“Oh, thank you, Your Highness,” you tease, earning a playful swat on your shoulder.

Her grin softens, and then she tilts her head, giving you a look that’s somehow both sweet and devious. “So... you don’t secretly have a girlfriend or anything, right?”

The laugh escapes you before you can stop it, loud and genuine. “What? No. Where’d that even come from?”

Winter shrugs, but there’s a sly glint in her eye. “I don’t know... You’re kinda hot. Feels like you’d be someone’s boyfriend already.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Trust me, I’m not. You’re not sharing me with anyone.”

“Good,” she says, her tone a little too triumphant. She leans down again, her lips brushing yours. “Because I don’t like sharing.”

You chuckle against her mouth, your fingers giving her hips a light squeeze. “Noted.”

There’s a brief lull, the kind where the weight of the moment lingers, and then she pulls back slightly, her eyes locking on yours. “Hey,” she starts, her tone shifting to something softer. “Wanna get coffee tomorrow?”

You blink, thrown off by the sudden suggestion. “Coffee?”

“Yeah,” she says, sitting up a little straighter on your lap. “Like, a casual thing. No big deal.”

You hesitate, your mind running in circles. Coffee. That’s... date territory, isn’t it? Things between you two already feel fast, tangled, intense. The memory of her in your bed is still fresh, and now she’s talking about coffee like it’s nothing.

“Don’t you think we’re moving kinda fast?” you ask, your voice careful.

She tilts her head, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she smirks, her tone light and teasing. “It’s coffee, not a wedding. What’s the big deal?”

You exhale, shaking your head with a small laugh. “You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“Pretty much,” she replies, her grin widening. “So, is that a yes?”

You stare at her for a moment, her face close to yours, her weight warm and solid on your lap. Something about her makes it impossible to say no.

“Fine,” you mutter, smirking. “But you’re buying.”

She laughs, leaning in to kiss you again. “Deal.”

Winter shifts on your lap, her legs straddling you more comfortably as she leans in close, her arms loosely draped around your shoulders. Her expression is playful, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in her eyes.

“So,” she starts, her voice soft and sweet, “tell me something about you. Something real. Like... what do you do for work?”

You smirk, leaning back into the couch. “What, now you’re interviewing me?”

“Yep,” she says with a grin. “Can’t just make out with a stranger all the time. Gotta know who I’m dealing with.”

You let out a breath. “Alright. Well, I just left college not too long ago. Now I’m working this boring office job—data entry and spreadsheets. Real thrilling stuff.”

Winter tilts her head, her blonde hair falling over one shoulder. “Office job, huh? So you’re, like, a suit-and-tie kind of guy now?”

“More like khakis and button-downs. Nothing fancy.”

“Hmm,” she muses. “Doesn’t really suit you.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, well, it pays the bills. What about you? What do you do?”

Winter’s smile widens, and she shrugs a little too casually. “I’m a stylist. Hair, makeup, fashion—the whole package.”

“Wait, really?” you ask, your eyebrows shooting up.

“Why’s that so surprising?” she teases, leaning in closer, her face inches from yours.

“I don’t know. I just didn’t peg you for that. But I guess it makes sense. You’ve got the vibe.”

“Thanks,” she says, clearly pleased with the compliment. Then, out of nowhere, she drops the bombshell: “Oh, and I already knew you before that party.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” she says. “We went to the same college.”

“Are you serious?” You sit up straighter, your hands tightening slightly on her hips.

Winter nods, biting her lip like she’s trying not to laugh at your shock. “Yep. Saw you around campus all the time.”

“Why didn’t you ever talk to me?”

Her cheeks flush slightly, her confidence faltering just a bit. “I was shy back then. Plus, you were always surrounded by other girls.”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “I wasn’t surrounded by girls.”

“You were,” she insists, grinning. “And I thought you were cute, so I didn’t want to deal with the competition.”

You lean in slightly, your voice dropping. “Well, I thought you were beautiful at the party, you know. Everything about you—your clothes, your hair, your smile. You kind of lit up the whole place.”

Winter’s smile softens, and she looks at you like you just handed her the world. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” you reply firmly. “It’s the truth.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breaths mingling.

“Do you think about me after we had sex? I mean, whe I leave?” she asks, her voice quieter now.

You pause, the question hanging heavily between you. Instead of answering, you turn it back on her. “Do you think about me?”

Her response is immediate. “Of course I do.”

You blink, a little taken aback by her honesty.

“I kept thinking about our kiss,” she continues, her hands sliding down to rest on your chest. “About your hands on me. The way you were so... affectionate and strong at the same time. And how mysterious you are. Like, you give just enough to make me want more.”

Her words wash over you, leaving you almost speechless. You swallow hard, her gaze locking onto yours, and before you can stop yourself, the truth spills out.

“I thought about you too,” you admit. “Just a little. The way you moaned in my ear, soft and slow. The way you pulled me closer, like you couldn’t get enough. And...” You trail off, your hands sliding down to cup her ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “I couldn’t stop thinking about this tight little ass of yours.”

Winter lets out a small gasp, her cheeks flushing red, but the sly grin creeping across her face tells you she likes it.

“Is that so?” she teases, her voice trembling slightly as she rocks her hips against your hands.

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss her again. “It’s burned into my brain.”

Her laugh is breathy and soft against your lips as she kisses you back, her arms wrapping tighter around your neck. “Good. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

Winter’s hips shift subtly in your lap, her thighs squeezing against yours like she’s testing how far she can push you. Her breath is warm against your neck, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispers, “Show me how much Daddy missed me.”

Your grip on her tightens instinctively, your hands digging into the curve of her ass. Something about the way she says it, soft but deliberate, ignites a spark in your chest and sends it straight to your groin.

“You’re gonna regret saying that,” you murmur.

She doesn’t respond with words, just tilts her head, offering her neck like a challenge. You lean in, your teeth grazing her skin, and she lets out a quiet gasp, her fingers tangling in your hair to pull you closer.

Your touch grows firmer, your hands roaming her body like you’re staking a claim. Winter notices—of course, she does—and the sly smile spreading across her lips only feeds the fire.

“Take this off,” you mutter, your fingers toying with the hem of her top.

Winter doesn’t hesitate, raising her arms obediently, her gaze fixed on yours. The top slides up and over her head, revealing her bare chest underneath. No bra, just smooth, pale skin and her small, almost flat breasts. Her nipples are soft, pink against the lighter tone of her skin, and for a moment, all you can do is take her in.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your voice thick with something between awe and desire.

Winter blushes slightly but doesn’t look away, her confidence unwavering as she leans closer, her hands resting on your shoulders. “Well?” she teases, her voice softer now. “Aren’t you gonna touch me?”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your lips find her chest, warm and delicate against your mouth. You kiss along the curve of her small breasts, your hands sliding up her sides until your thumbs brush against the soft skin beneath her nipples. Winter sighs, her head tilting back slightly, her fingers tightening on your shoulders.

You take your time, your lips closing around one nipple, kissing it before flicking your tongue over the sensitive peak. Her skin tastes clean, warm, slightly sweet, and you can feel her chest rise and fall against your mouth as her breathing quickens.

“Oh,” she murmurs, her voice soft but needy. “That feels so good.”

Your hand moves to her other breast, your fingers gently teasing the nipple as you kiss and suck on the first. Winter shifts in your lap, her thighs pressing tighter against yours as she arches into your touch.

“God, I missed this,” you mutter against her skin, your lips dragging across her chest to give her other nipple the same attention.

Winter lets out a soft, breathy laugh, her fingers slipping into your hair. “You're making it hard to believe that you were thinking about me just a little bit.”

You look up at her, your lips brushing her skin as you smirk. “Maybe I've been thinking about you too much.”

Your mouth trails upward, leaving her chest for her soft, exposed neck. Winter tilts her head to the side, offering it to you like it’s the easiest decision she’s ever made. You kiss along her skin, slow at first, testing, and then your lips part, and you suck gently.

Her breath catches. “Oh, fuck,” she whispers.

You grin against her neck, dragging your tongue along the spot where you know her pulse is fluttering wildly. “I’m gonna leave marks,” you murmur, your voice low and rough. “So you don’t forget me.”

Winter’s fingers slip from your hair to your shoulders, her nails digging into your shirt-covered skin. “Do it,” she pleads, her voice breathy and desperate. “Please, daddy, mark me.”

Something about the way she says it sends a shiver down your spine. You latch onto her neck, sucking harder this time, your teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp. She writhes in your lap, her hips shifting against yours as soft moans spill from her lips.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” she murmurs, her voice trembling with pleasure.

You move to a new spot, just below her jawline, and suck again, harder this time. Winter whimpers, her hands slipping under your shirt. Her touch is cool and electric against your bare skin, her little nails dragging lightly at first and then scratching down your back.

“Shit,” you hiss, the sting from her nails mixing with the heat of her body against yours.

She smirks, her confidence peeking through as she lifts your shirt higher, exposing more of your skin. “If you’re gonna mark me,” she says, her voice soft but teasing, “I’m marking you too.”

Her nails dig in harder this time, her hands roaming your back and sides with purpose. You feel the faint burn of each scratch, and it only makes you want her more.

You pull back just enough to look at her, her flushed cheeks, her lips slightly parted, her neck now adorned with faint red marks from your mouth. “You’re trouble,” you mutter, your hands sliding back to her hips, pulling her tighter against you.

Winter grins, biting her lip as she looks down at you. “Your trouble,” she says, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

“Maybe,” you admit, leaning in to suck on another spot just below her ear. Her moan this time is louder, her nails dragging down your chest in response.

Your hand slides down Winter’s side, sneaking under the hem of her loose shorts. The moment your fingers brush against her panties, you freeze.

“Shit,” you mutter, pulling back slightly to look at her. “You’re soaking wet already?”

Winter’s cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look embarrassed—if anything, she looks proud, biting her lip as she gazes down at you. “Just from your kisses,” she whispers, her voice soft and teasing.

You raise an eyebrow, your fingers dipping further, sliding over the slick heat of her pussy through the thin fabric of her panties. “You’re telling me this is all because of me?”

She lets out a soft gasp, her hips shifting against your hand. “It’s because I’ve been thinking about you. All night. You don’t know what you do to me.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, your thumb brushing against her clit through the damp fabric. Her reaction is instant—a sharp intake of breath, her nails digging into your shoulders as she presses closer.

You lean in, biting her lower lip just enough to make her whimper. The faint taste of her cherry lip gloss lingers on your tongue, sweet and sticky, and you pull back with a smirk. “You’ve been thinking about me, huh? Let’s see just how much.”

Grabbing her waist, you lift her slightly, laying her back on the couch. Winter looks up at you with wide, eager eyes, her breathing quick as your hands slide to her shorts.

“Let’s get these off,” you say, your voice rough.

She lifts her hips obediently, letting you pull the shorts down her legs. The thin fabric catches for a moment on her thighs before slipping away completely, leaving her in nothing but a tiny pair of panties, already darkened with wetness.

“Goddamn,” you murmur, tossing the shorts aside. “I missed this. Missed the way you taste.”

Winter squirms under your gaze, her lips parting as she whispers, “Then come and get me.”

You take off your jacket and throw it on the floor before you push her legs apart, pale and soft under your hands, guiding her closer to the edge of the couch. You remove her panties in one smooth motion. The sight of her drives you insane—her pink folds glistening, practically begging for your tongue. You kneel between her legs, hands sliding up her thighs, your thumbs brushing just close enough to tease.

“Patience,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss the inside of her thigh. Her skin is warm under your lips, the faint scent of her arousal filling your senses as you trail kisses along her thigh, inching closer to where she needs you most.

Winter moans softly, her fingers tangling in your hair. “Don’t tease me,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

You smirk, your lips brushing against her skin. “But you like it, don’t you? Makes it even better when I finally give you what you want.”

She whimpers, her hips shifting toward your mouth. “Please, daddy,” she breathes. “I need you.”

You grin against her skin, dragging your tongue up the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, savoring every shiver and gasp. “You’ll get me,” you murmur, your voice low. “But I’m gonna take my time first.”

Your fingers glide lower, grazing her entrance, and the slick heat against your skin makes your cock throb. “You’re dripping, Winter,” you murmur, teasing her as your fingers just barely slip inside before pulling back.

She arches her back slightly, her hips chasing your hand, desperate for more. “Please,” she whispers, her voice soft and breathy.

“Please what?” you ask, your tone laced with mock innocence. You drag your fingers through her wetness, just enough to make her gasp, but you don’t give her what she wants.

Winter whines, her nails digging into the couch as her thighs twitch against your shoulders. “Please... suck me. I need it,” she begs, her voice trembling.

“Need it?” You smirk, your fingers circling her clit lightly, watching the way her body reacts to every touch. “I don’t think you’ve begged enough.”

Her head falls back against the couch, and she lets out a frustrated moan. “Daddy, please,” she pleads, her voice breaking. “I’ll be good. Just—please. I need your mouth on me.”

“Better,” you murmur, leaning in until your lips are just a breath away from her. You can feel the heat radiating off her pussy, the scent of her arousal making your head spin. “But I want to hear you beg like you really mean it.”

Her hips buck again, and she whimpers, her voice desperate now. “Please, daddy, please suck me. I need your tongue. I need to feel you. I’ll do anything, just—fuck, please!”

That’s all it takes to break you.

“Good girl,” you mutter before diving in.

Your tongue runs flat against her slit, slow and deliberate, savoring the way she shudders under you. The taste of her—sweet, salty, perfect—hits your tongue, and it’s almost overwhelming. You groan against her, your hands gripping her thighs to keep her open as you suck gently on her swollen clit.

“Oh my God,” Winter gasps, her back arching off the couch. “Fuck, yes—just like that.”

You don’t stop, your tongue swirling around her clit before dipping lower to tease her entrance. She’s so wet, the slickness coating your lips and chin as you lap at her like you can’t get enough. Her moans grow louder, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer.

“Fuck, daddy,” she moans, her hips grinding against your mouth. “You’re so good at this—oh, fuck—don’t stop.”

You hum against her, the vibration making her cry out. Your tongue plunges into her, tasting her from the inside, while your thumb comes up to rub slow circles on her clit.

“Shit, you taste so good,” you mutter, your voice muffled against her. “I could do this all fucking night.”

Her breath catches, and her moans turn into desperate little whimpers. “Oh, fuck—I’m so close, please, don’t stop, please—”

Her begging drives you wild, your tongue glides along Winter’s folds, teasing her clit as you feel her squirm beneath your touch. But as much as her gasps and whimpers fuel your hunger, you decide to take it further. Your fingers slip down between her legs, sliding easily over her soaked pussy.

“Fuck,” you murmur, glancing up at her flushed face. “You’re so wet, Winter. You always get this messy just thinking about me?”

She nods weakly, her lips parting to answer, but all that comes out is a shaky moan as you press one finger inside her. The heat and tightness make your cock ache, and when you add a second finger, you’re rewarded with a sharp cry that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You remember last time?” you ask, curling your fingers inside her, finding that spot that made her melt before. “That sweet cream you gave me? I want it again.”

Winter’s head falls back against the couch, her hips bucking into your hand as your fingers pump into her. “Oh my God,” she moans, her voice high and needy. “Daddy, I—fuck—I’ll give it to you, just don’t stop!”

“Good girl,” you growl, your pace quickening. Your fingers thrust into her slick pussy, the sound obscene, wet, and fucking addictive. You can feel her walls tightening around you, and as you pull your fingers out slightly, you watch as a thin, creamy slickness clings to them.

“There it is,” you say, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “That’s what I wanted.”

Winter’s face is a mess of pleasure, her moans coming louder and more desperate as you keep going. “Oh, fuck, daddy, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” you cut her off, leaning in to suck on her clit while your fingers keep working her. “You’re gonna cum for me, Winter. I want all of it.”

She cries out, her nails digging into the couch as her thighs tremble around your head. “I’m close—fuck, I’m so close!”

You redouble your efforts, your tongue swirling over her swollen clit while your fingers curl and thrust, hitting that spot inside her with relentless precision. Her moans turn into frantic gasps, her body tensing as the pressure builds.

“Come on, baby,” you murmur against her, your breath hot on her sensitive skin. “Give it to me. I want to taste all of you.”

Her body arches off the couch as she lets out a broken scream, her pussy clenching hard around your fingers as she cums. You keep going, licking and sucking at her clit, swallowing every drop of her as her juices coat your tongue. Your fingers slow but don’t stop, drawing out her orgasm until she’s shaking and gasping for breath.

Finally, you pull back, your lips and chin glistening with her arousal. Winter looks at you through half-lidded eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to catch her breath.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her voice hoarse and trembling. “You’re so fucking good at that.”

You grin, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you meet her gaze. “Told you I missed your taste.”

Her laugh is soft and breathy, and she reaches out to pull you closer.

“And I missed you,” she murmurs. “Every fucking inch of you.”

You lean up, your lips crashing against Winter’s in a desperate, heated kiss. She doesn’t hesitate, kissing you back with just as much intensity, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer. Her taste lingers on your tongue, sweet and salty, and when her lips part to deepen the kiss, you can feel her shiver against you.

Between kisses, her breathless voice cuts through. “I need you,” she whispers, her tone thick with want. “I need your cock, daddy.”

Her words are gasoline on the fire already burning in you. You tug your shirt off over your head, tossing it aside. Your hands drop to your belt, unbuckling it with quick, impatient movements. Winter watches you, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling as she stares at the bulge straining against your underwear. The sound of your zipper fills the room as you shove your pants down, kicking off your shoes and stepping out of everything, leaving only your boxers.

Your cock is rock-hard, the fabric damp where precum has seeped through. Winter’s hand reaches out, slender fingers grazing the outline of you through the thin material.

“Fuck,” Winter whispers. She slides her hand inside your waistband, freeing you in one swift motion.

The moment your cock is out, her small hand wraps around it, stroking you slowly at first, her touch firm but teasing. Her thumb glides over the head, spreading the wetness there as her lips crash against yours again.

“You’re so fucking hard,” she murmurs against your mouth, her strokes growing bolder.

“For you,” you growl, biting at her lower lip as your hips thrust lightly into her hand.

Her grip tightens just enough to make you groan, but you pull back, grabbing her wrists to stop her before this ends too soon.

“Turn around,” you command.

Winter obeys instantly, her movements eager as she twists to lie on her belly on the couch. You guide her legs up, positioning her so her knees rest on the arm of the couch, her ass raised in the air and her thighs trembling.

The sight of her like this—completely vulnerable, her pale skin flushed, her pussy glistening and ready—makes your breath hitch. You step behind her, standing on the floor, your cock twitching as you grip her hips, lining yourself up.

“Beg for it,” you demand.

Winter lets out a soft whine, her head turning to glance back at you. “Please, daddy,” she starts, her voice shaking. “Please fuck me. I need you so bad. I need your cock inside me.”

“That’s not good enough,” you growl, gripping her ass and squeezing hard.

Her voice grows louder, more desperate. “Please, daddy, I’ll be so good for you. I’ll take all of you. Just—fuck, please! I need you to fill me up. Don’t make me wait anymore.”

You smirk, the raw need in her voice sending a shiver down your spine. “That’s better,” you mutter, your hands sliding up her thighs as you position yourself.

“You’re gonna feel every inch of me, baby,” you promise, your voice dark and full of intent. “And you’re gonna love it.”

You don’t bother teasing. Gripping Winter’s soft hips firmly, you position yourself at her entrance, the slick heat of her pussy already pulling you in. And then you push forward, slamming into her in one smooth, powerful thrust.

Her gasp is sharp, a mix of surprise and raw pleasure. “Oh, fuck!” she cries, her body jerking forward on the couch.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, pausing just for a second as her pussy clenches tight around you. “You’re fucking tight, Winter. So goddamn tight.”

She moans in response, her head turning slightly to glance back at you. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted, and her eyes are already hazy with need. “Don’t stop,” she begs, her voice breathy. “Fuck me harder. I need it.”

“Careful what you wish for,” you growl, pulling back and slamming into her again. Her cry of pleasure spurs you on, and soon you’re setting a brutal pace, your hips slamming against her ass with every thrust.

Her pussy grips you like a vice, impossibly tight and hot, and each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through you. You grab a handful of her ass, squeezing the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks as you drive into her over and over.

“Shit,” you groan, your voice rough as your hips snap forward. “You take it so fucking good. This tight little pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Winter moans, her voice high and needy. “Yes, yes—don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Her hands claw at the cushions, her body rocking with every thrust. You lean over her slightly, one hand gripping her hip while the other slides up her back, pressing her down into the couch. The new angle has her crying out, her pussy clenching even tighter around you.

“Fuck, Winter,” you mutter, your breath ragged. “You’re so goddamn wet. So tight. Feels like you’re trying to milk my cock.”

Her moans grow louder, more frantic, each one making your cock throb inside her. “More,” she whimpers, her voice breaking. “I need more. Please, fuck me harder. Use me.”

You oblige without hesitation, your grip on her hips tightening as you pound into her mercilessly. The sound of your hips slapping against her ass fills the room, mixing with her desperate moans and your own rough grunts.

“You love this, don’t you?” you growl. “Getting fucked like this, bent over and taking it. You’re such a good little slut for me.”

Her response is immediate, a loud, breathless moan as her back arches. “Yes! I love it—I fucking love it!”

Your thrusts don’t falter, hips slamming into Winter’s ass with relentless force, the wet, filthy sounds of her tight pussy taking you driving you insane. Her body shakes with every thrust, her moans coming louder and louder, each one dripping with desperate need.

And then you glance down at her ass—small, pale, and bouncing every time you slam into her. The sight sends a wicked idea flashing through your mind, and without thinking twice, you bring your hand down hard against her cheek.

The smack echoes in the room, and Winter cries out, the sound somewhere between a moan and a gasp of shock. “Fuck!” she whimpers, her head snapping up as her back arches.

You grin, your hand tingling from the impact. “You like that?” you growl, squeezing the soft, warm flesh you just marked.

“Yes,” she moans, her voice high and breathless. “Do it again.”

Your hand comes down again, harder this time, the sound sharper, and Winter’s reaction is immediate. She moans loudly, pushing her ass back toward you like the filthy little slut she is. “More,” she begs, her voice trembling. “Please, spank your good girl’s ass. I need it.”

“Yeah?” you say, your tone low and mocking as your hand rubs over the red print blooming on her cheek. “You need me to mark this pretty little ass of yours?”

“Yes,” she gasps, writhing beneath you. “Mark me. Use me. I’ll take whatever you give me.”

The words flip a switch in you, and your hand comes down again, and again, each slap leaving a red handprint against her pale skin. Winter cries out every time, her moans turning to shameless, wanton whimpers as she pushes back into your hand, her pussy clenching tighter around your cock.

“Look at you,” you taunt, your voice thick with satisfaction. “Bent over and begging to get your ass spanked like a little whore.”

“Because I am,” she whimpers, her voice trembling. “I’m your little whore. Please, don’t stop. Spank me. Fuck me.”

Your hand comes down one more time, the slap ringing out, and Winter practically screams, her hips jerking forward before slamming back against you. Her ass is warm under your palm, the flesh reddened and glowing, and you can’t help but grab it, squeezing hard as you bury yourself inside her again.

“God, you’re such a slut,” you growl, your grip on her hips almost bruising. “Taking my cock so fucking well. You love being dominated, don’t you? Being used?”

“Yes,” she cries, her voice breaking as she gasps for air. “I fucking love it. I love the way you use me.”

Her pussy grips you like a vice, her walls fluttering around you as you pound into her, each thrust sending shockwaves through both of you. But neither of you is there yet—this is just the beginning, and you’re nowhere near done with her.

Your thrusts are relentless, Winter’s high-pitched screams filling the room, each one tearing through you like fuel on a fire. Her once-pale ass is now completely red, the heat radiating from her skin as you give her one last hard slap. The sound echoes, and she cries out, her body trembling beneath you.

“Get up,” you order.

Winter doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even question you. She pushes herself up from the couch, her legs shaky as she stands, looking over her shoulder at you with wide, obedient eyes. Her chest rises and falls, her flushed body trembling slightly as she waits for your next move.

You don’t give her time to think. Grabbing her by the waist, you lift her with ease, her small frame light in your hands. Her arms instinctively wrap around your neck, and her legs lock around your waist, pulling herself closer to you.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your cock brushing against her slick entrance as you position her. “So fucking obedient. You make me so goddamn hard.”

Her breath hitches, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “Anything for you, daddy. Use me however you want.”

“Fuck, Winter,” you growl, the words making your cock twitch.

You push into her slowly, her wetness making it easy, but her tightness still squeezes you. Both of you moan at the same time, the sound mingling in the air as you bury yourself inside her.

Her voice is soft, trembling. “Oh my God... you’re so deep, daddy.”

“That’s because you’re made for me,” you reply, your voice low and rough as your hands grip her thighs. “Every inch of this tight little pussy is mine.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her nails digging into your shoulders as you start to move. You lift her up, her body sliding along your cock, slow at first, letting her feel every inch as you fill her completely.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” she murmurs, her lips brushing your neck as she moans softly in your ear. “I love being your fucktoy.”

You groan, your grip on her tightening as you pick up the pace, moving her up and down on your cock like she’s nothing more than a doll in your hands. Her moans grow louder, each one hitting your ear and making your cock throb inside her.

“Yeah, that’s it,” you mutter, your voice thick with lust. “Moan for me. Let me hear how much you love being fucked like this.”

“I love it,” she whimpers, her hips moving in time with yours, her voice high and needy. “I love the way you use me. You make me feel so good—so full.”

“You’re my good girl,” you growl, biting at her neck as you fuck her harder. “And it’s my fucking job to ruin you.”

Her cry is almost a scream, her nails dragging down your back as she clings to you. “Yes,” she moans, her voice breaking. “Ruin me, daddy. Fuck me however you want. I’m yours.”

Your grip tightens on Winter’s thighs as you start pounding into her harder, your movements raw and unforgiving. Her gasps turn into high-pitched moans, her breath hitching with every thrust as her body clings to yours.

“This what you wanted so bad?” you growl, your voice rough against her ear. “You called me over just to get fucked like this?”

“Yes,” she cries out. “Yes, this is what I wanted. I needed your cock—I needed you to fuck me. Make me cum, please!”

“Fuck, you’re so naughty,” you growl, biting her neck lightly as your hips snap forward, driving her down onto your cock with brutal force. “A little slut, calling me in the middle of the night just to get used like this.”

“Yes!” she moans, her voice breaking, her hips grinding against you. “I’m your little slut—I love it! I love being your whore!”

Her words fuel something dark and primal in you, and you slam her down harder, her body bouncing against yours like a rag doll. “Yeah?” you snarl, your tone dripping with dominance. “Then be a good slut and cum on my cock. Right fucking now.”

Winter’s cries rise into screams as you adopt a brutal rhythm, your hands gripping her ass and thighs tightly, throwing her body onto your cock like she’s nothing more than your personal toy. Her moans are loud, desperate, raw, and you can feel her body trembling, teetering on the edge.

“Cum,” you command, your voice firm and unrelenting. “Cum for me, Winter. Now.”

Her body stiffens, her head snapping back as she lets out a long, broken scream. Her pussy clenches hard around your cock, her thighs quaking as waves of pleasure crash through her.

“Fuck!” she cries, her hands gripping you tighter, her nails digging into your back. Her entire body convulses, her moans turning into incoherent whimpers as her orgasm consumes her.

You lean in, attacking her neck with kisses and light bites, your breath hot against her skin. Her eyes roll back, her lips parted in silent screams, and you hold her tightly, keeping her steady as her body jerks uncontrollably in your arms.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” you murmur against her skin, your tone softer now. “My good girl. You did so good for me.”

Winter’s breathing is ragged, her body limp in your arms as she comes down from the high. You shift your grip, holding her gently, your lips brushing along her jawline and cheeks, peppering her with soft kisses.

“You’re amazing,” you whisper, your hands smoothing over her back. “You deserved every second of that.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her face burying in your neck as she clings to you. “You’re gonna kill me,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse but full of satisfaction.

“Not yet,” you reply with a smirk, kissing the top of her head. “I’m not done with you.”

Slowly, you lower her to the ground, setting her on her knees in front of you. She goes willingly, her legs trembling but obedient, her wide eyes looking up at you as she licks her lips.

Winter smiles, her voice soft and teasing. “Ready for more, sir?”

You look down at Winter, kneeling in front of you like the perfect little slut she loves to be. Her blonde hair is messy, her cheeks flushed, and her lips slightly parted, still red from all the biting and kissing. She looks wrecked, and it’s fucking beautiful.

“Yes,” you say, your voice low and full of hunger. “I’m ready for more. But the question is—are you?”

She nods eagerly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as her eyes flicker down to your cock. It’s still rock hard, slick with her arousal, twitching slightly as you step closer.

You grab the base, stroking it slowly as you guide it to her face. The swollen tip brushes against her soft cheek, and her breath hitches, her hands coming up to rest on your thighs for balance. You drag your cock across her flushed skin, over her delicate jawline, and finally against her lips.

“You see this?” you murmur, smirking as you tap the head of your cock against her mouth. “This is what you do to me, Winter. You’ve got me so fucking hard, and now I’m thinking about marking this pretty little face of yours.”

Her eyes flutter shut for a moment, a quiet whimper escaping her lips as she presses a soft kiss to the head of your cock. “Do it,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need. “Please, cum on my face. I want it. I want you to mark me.”

Her words send a jolt straight to your core, but you’re not letting her off that easy. You grip her chin gently, tilting her face up to meet your gaze. “If you want it so bad,” you murmur, your thumb brushing over her lower lip, “you’re gonna have to earn it. Make me cum, Winter. Show me how much you want it.”

She doesn’t waste a second. Her hands wrap around your shaft, small and delicate against your thick cock, and she leans in, her tongue flicking out to tease the head. You let out a low groan, watching as she works, her eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“Good girl,” you mutter, your hand resting on the back of her head. “Show me what that pretty little mouth can do.”

Winter’s lips part, and she takes you in, her tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down your length. Her mouth is warm and wet, and the suction she creates has your knees threatening to buckle. She starts slow, her movements deliberate as she takes more of you, her hands stroking what her mouth can’t reach.

“Fuck, that’s it,” you groan, your fingers tangling in her hair. “You look so fucking good like this, Winter. Taking me so well.”

She moans around you, the vibration making you curse under your breath. Her head bobs, her pace quickening as she gets more confident, more eager. Spit drips down her chin, her hands twisting at the base of your cock, and her soft little whimpers drive you closer to the edge.

“Shit, baby,” you mutter, your voice rough. “You’re so fucking good at this. Keep going—just like that.”

Her response is to take you even deeper, her throat constricting around you as she gags slightly, but she doesn’t stop. Her nails dig into your thighs, her moans growing louder, and you can feel yourself getting dangerously close.

“Fuck, Winter,” you groan, your grip on her hair tightening. “You’re gonna make me cum all over that pretty face of yours. Is that what you want? To be covered in me?”

She pulls back just enough to speak, her lips slick and swollen. “Yes,” she gasps, stroking you with both hands. “I want it so bad. Please, cum for me, daddy. Mark me. I’ll take all of it.”

Her words are your undoing, and you feel the tension coiling tight in your core as she wraps her lips around you again, sucking you with even more determination.

Winter’s lips work over your cock like she was born to do it, her soft, pink mouth gliding along your length while her tongue swirls and flicks against the sensitive underside. Every movement sends jolts of pleasure coursing through you, making it harder to keep your composure.

Her eyes glance up, locking onto yours, and fuck—it’s like she knows exactly what that look does to you. Wide, innocent, framed by her messy blonde hair, and full of something sinful. The combination of her gaze and the wet, obscene sound of her sucking you is almost too much.

“Goddamn, Winter,” you groan, your head falling back for a moment as you let yourself get lost in it. “You’re so fucking good at this. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

She doesn’t. She doubles down, taking you deeper, her lips stretching around your cock as her tongue continues to tease. You can feel her saliva dripping down, making a slick mess of her chin, but she doesn’t seem to care. If anything, she moans softly, the vibrations shooting straight through you.

“Fuck,” you hiss, your fingers tightening in her hair. You glance down, and the sight of her small hands now cupping and massaging your balls makes your knees nearly give out. “Shit, baby, that’s... that’s so fucking good.”

Winter’s only response is another moan, muffled around your cock. She speeds up, her hands stroking what her mouth can’t reach, her tongue flicking over your tip with each pass. You can feel the pressure building in your gut, that telltale tightness letting you know you’re close.

“Fuck, Winter, stop,” you growl, pulling her off your cock with a wet pop. You’re panting, your cock twitching in your hand as you take a step back.

She looks up at you, her lips swollen and slick with spit, her chest heaving. “Why’d you stop me?” she asks, her voice sweet and breathless.

“Because,” you say, gripping your cock and stroking it slowly, trying to hold back. “I’m gonna make a fucking mess of your face, and I need you to beg for it.”

Her eyes light up, and she leans forward slightly, her hands resting on her thighs. “Please,” she says, her voice soft and needy. “I want it. I want you to cum on me, daddy. I need it. Please, baby, please.”

“Shit,” you groan, the sound of her sweet little pleas making it impossible to hold back.

You stroke yourself faster, the slickness of her spit making it easy as you aim at her gorgeous face. Winter watches you, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, her expression full of anticipation.

“Fuck,” you growl, the tension snapping as you feel yourself tip over the edge. “Here it comes, baby. Take it all.”

The first hot spurt of cum hits her cheek, followed by another and another, painting her face in thick, messy streaks. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move—she just sits there, taking every drop like the good little slut she loves to be.

“Fuck, Winter,” you mutter, your strokes slowing as the last few ropes of cum land on her lips and chin.

Her lips curl into this filthy little smile, and she doesn’t waste a second. Her fingers are already working, sliding through the mess, gathering your cum like it’s something precious, smearing it across her cheeks, her forehead, even brushing it down to her neck. She spreads it out deliberately, almost artfully, until her face glistens with it, sticky and marked like she wants everyone to know exactly what she’s done. Exactly who she belongs to.

Her tongue flicks out, tasting the corner of her lips, humming softly as if savoring the flavor. She's in no rush to get clean, it's like Winter feels like she doesn't need to—she just leans into the mess, into the filth, wearing it like a badge of honor.

"You taste so fucking good, daddy,” she murmurs, her voice low and thick with satisfaction. Her eyes stay locked on yours as she drags her fingers to her lips, sucking one clean with a soft, wet pop. She grins wider, teeth flashing. "I could eat this off me all night.”

You smirk, brushing a thumb across her cheek to gather some of the cum she missed. “Clean me up,” you say, stepping closer and holding your cock in front of her mouth.

Winter leans in without hesitation, her tongue flicking out to lick along your length, cleaning every inch of you with slow, deliberate strokes. She takes you into her mouth one last time, sucking gently, her eyes fluttering shut as if savoring the moment.

“Good girl,” you murmur, stroking her hair as she finishes. “You’re fucking perfect.”

—

The TV hums softly in the background, some late-night infomercial filling the quiet, but you’re not watching it. Your eyes are on Winter, her head resting on your lap as she sleeps. Her soft blonde hair falls over her face, her lips slightly parted, her breathing slow and steady. She looks so peaceful like this, curled up on the couch under your hand.

You stroke her hair absentmindedly, your mind drifting. It’s not the first time you’ve been like this with her, and that’s what’s messing you up. You think back to that night at her apartment—the way she kissed you like she’d been waiting her whole life for it, the way she moaned your name, the way she asked you to mark her, the way she fell asleep in your arms afterward.

And then, the morning after. That was unusual for you. Normally, you’d wake up, maybe share some awkward small talk, and then you’d be gone. No texts, no calls, just a memory and a closed chapter. But with Winter...

You remember how she clung to you that morning, burying her face in your chest, refusing to let you go. How you didn’t mind staying in bed with her, your arms wrapped around her, her warmth sinking into you. It was so... different.

Now here you are again. Winter on your lap, completely comfortable with you being here. And you, sitting here like an idiot, unable to tear yourself away. If only she wasn’t so cute, so sweet, so... fucking irresistible.

You sigh quietly and glance at the clock. It’s late, and you know you shouldn’t stay. Carefully, you slide your hand out from under her head and shift her onto the couch, laying her down gently. She murmurs something in her sleep but doesn’t wake up. You grab a blanket from the armrest and drape it over her, tucking it around her small frame.

You pause for a moment, just looking at her. God, she’s beautiful. Too beautiful.

Shaking your head, you grab your jacket and head for the door. You’ve got your hand on the doorknob when you hear a soft, groggy voice behind you.

“Where are you going?”

You freeze, turning to see Winter sitting up on the couch, her eyes heavy with sleep but full of confusion. She looks at you like a child caught waking up to an empty room, her expression tugging at something deep inside you.

“I was just leaving,” you say quietly. “You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.”

She gets up slowly, the blanket falling off her shoulders as she shuffles over to you. Her arms wrap around your waist, her cheek pressing against your chest. “Stay,” she murmurs, her voice soft but firm.

You hesitate, your hands hovering awkwardly at your sides. “Winter...”

“Why do you always run away?” she asks, her voice muffled against your shirt.

“I’m not running away,” you say, though it sounds weak even to your own ears.

She pulls back slightly, looking up at you with those big, questioning eyes. “Yes, you are. You did it the first time, and the second, and—God, you always do this. Why?”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t... I don’t do relationships, Winter. That’s not my thing. I’m not trying to hurt you—I just...”

“Just what?” she presses. “What are you so afraid of?”

You hesitate, the words caught in your throat. Finally, you take a deep breath and say, “Maybe I like you more than I should. And I don’t know how to deal with that.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and you feel her grip on your shirt tighten.

“Relationships are messy,” you continue, your voice low. “They’re complicated. And I’m not good at that shit. I don’t want to fuck this up, Winter. I don’t want to fuck you up.”

She blinks at you, her expression softening. “You’re not fucking me up,” she says quietly. “You’re... you’re making me happy. And I think I make you happy too. Or am I wrong?”

You look at her, the vulnerability in her eyes. “You do,” you admit. “You make me feel things I don't want to feel, Winter.”

“Then stay,” she whispers. “Just for tonight. Stop running, just... stay with me.”

Her words hang in the air, and for once, you don’t have a reason to say no. Letting out a heavy sigh, you throw your jacket back on the couch and wrap your arms around her and pulling her close, resting your chin on top of her head.

“Alright,” you say quietly. “I’ll stay.”

Winter hugs you tighter, her body relaxing against yours. “Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice soft and full of relief.

Winter tugs you back to the couch, her small hands wrapped around your wrist as she pulls you down beside her. The blanket slips off the couch as she curls up next to you, her head resting against your shoulder.

“How’re you feeling?” you ask, glancing down at her.

“Better,” she murmurs, her voice soft and still a little groggy. “Just a little cold.”

You tilt your head, your brow furrowing slightly. “Want me to grab you something from your closet? A hoodie or something?”

She shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips as she looks up at you. “No. You’re already enough to warm me up.”

You roll your eyes, though the corner of your mouth twitches upward. “You’re so clingy.”

“And that's why you like me,” she shoots back, leaning into you a little more.

You sigh, letting the moment settle for a bit, but then Winter shifts, sitting up slightly to face you. There’s something in her eyes now—a mix of curiosity and determination that instantly puts you on edge.

“So,” she starts, her tone deceptively casual. “Why are you so anti-relationship?”

“Winter…” you warn, already feeling the weight of the conversation she’s trying to start.

“Nope,” she says, cutting you off with a shake of her head. “Don’t brush me off. You just admitted you like me, so now I get to ask questions.”

You groan, leaning your head back against the couch. “This is why I don’t talk about shit like this.”

“Too bad,” she says firmly, poking your chest with her finger. “Spill.”

You let out a long sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “Fine. You want the story? Here it is.”

Winter doesn’t say anything, just waits, her eyes locked on you, her expression soft but focused.

“It was high school,” you start, your voice quieter now. “I was seventeen. She was… everything. Or at least, I thought she was. We were together for two years—serious, like, talking-about-the-future serious. Then, out of nowhere, she dumped me. Said she was bored. Two years, and she just… walked away like it was nothing.”

Winter’s face twists in disbelief. “Are you serious? She said that? That she was bored?”

You nod, a bitter laugh escaping you. “Yeah. And she was already hooking up with some guy from her physics class a week later. Guess I wasn’t exciting enough.”

“That’s fucking awful,” Winter says, her voice soft but filled with anger on your behalf.

“Yeah, well, it kind of destroyed me,” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was stupid enough to think it was love, you know? Thought she was the one or whatever. But after that, I decided I wasn’t gonna deal with that shit anymore. Relationships are messy, and people suck.”

Winter doesn’t say anything right away, just stares at you like she’s trying to piece you together. Finally, she asks, “So, what? You’re just gonna live the rest of your life alone?”

“Pretty much,” you say with a shrug. “I’m not living in the 50s, Winter. I don’t need to get married or settle down to be happy.”

Her brow furrows, and she shifts closer, her hand resting lightly on your knee. “I’m sorry you went through that. I really am. But…”

You raise an eyebrow. “But?”

“But,” she continues, her voice firm, “not everyone’s like her. Not everyone’s gonna break your heart.”

You scoff lightly. “Right. Until they do.”

Winter shakes her head, her hand squeezing your knee. “I’m not saying you have to trust everyone. I’m just saying… maybe you shouldn’t shut the door completely. You’re not the same person you were back then.”

You glance at her, her face so earnest it almost hurts to look at her. “What are you getting at?”

She takes a deep breath, her hand moving to cover yours. “I’m saying… give me a chance. Let me show you that relationships don’t have to be messy and painful. That they can be good, too.”

“Winter…”

“Just think about it,” she says softly. “I’m not asking for forever. I’m asking for a chance. For us.”

Her eyes search yours, and for the first time in years, you feel the walls you’ve built around yourself start to crack, just a little.

“Why me, anyway?” you finally ask. “There are so many guys out there—guys who actually want to date, who don’t have all this baggage.”

Winter sits back a little, still close but giving you enough space to think. Her eyes stay locked on yours, though, unwavering. “Because none of them are you,” she says softly, her tone leaving no room for doubt.

You blink, caught off guard by the simplicity of her answer. “What does that even mean?”

She smiles, a small, almost shy curve of her lips. “It means I don’t want someone else. I want you. You’re funny, and you’re smart, and you’re—” She pauses, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You’re different. In the best way.”

You snort lightly, trying to deflect the compliment. “Different how?”

“You just are,” she says, leaning forward. “Remember that night I couldn’t sleep, and you were up playing video games? We messaged for hours, just talking about the dumbest shit.”

You do remember. She’d been wide awake at 2 a.m., texting you about how she hated the sound of the neighbor’s wind chimes. You’d been mid-match, only half-paying attention at first, but then she’d started making jokes, and somehow you’d ended up talking until the sun came up.

“Yeah,” you say after a moment. “That was... pretty cool.”

“Exactly,” she says, her smile growing. “You made me feel better that night without even trying. And it wasn’t just that. It’s everything. The way you talk, the way you think. You don’t even realize how... captivating you are.”

You glance away, the intensity of her gaze making your stomach twist. “You’re overselling me, Winter.”

“I’m not,” she says, and before you can argue, she climbs into your lap. Her movements are smooth and confident, and suddenly, she’s straddling you, her hands resting lightly on your shoulders.

“You’re scared,” she says softly, her face inches from yours. “And I get it. But if you give me a chance, I promise you won’t get tired of me.”

You look at her, her wide, earnest eyes, her lips slightly parted, and you know she’s being honest. You sigh, leaning your head back against the couch. “I already know I wouldn’t get tired of you,” you admit, your voice low. “That’s the problem.”

Her brow furrows slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” You pause, your hands instinctively settling on her waist. “What if it’s the other way around? What if you get tired of me?”

She stares at you for a moment, and then, without saying a word, she leans in and kisses you. It’s soft at first, her lips brushing against yours gently, but then she deepens it, her hands sliding up to cup your face. It’s not just a kiss—it’s an answer.

When she finally pulls back, her voice is firm. “I’m not going to get tired of you.”

You stare at her, her words settling somewhere deep inside you, and you can’t find it in yourself to argue.

She smiles again, softer this time, her fingers tracing along your jaw. “So... is tomorrow’s coffee still on?”

You chuckle, shaking your head slightly. “As long as you’re feeling better.”

She grins, her eyes lighting up. “Deal.”

Winter’s hand moves slowly over your chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns against the fabric of your shirt. Her gaze softens, though there’s a playful glint in her eyes. “So,” she starts, her tone low and inviting, “what do you think about celebrating this new phase of ours… in bed?”

“You’re sick, Winter.”

She tilts her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. “I feel cured already.”

You raise an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Do you?”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, leaning in closer, her fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to brush against your bare skin. “And if I’m not, maybe you could… help with that?”

Your laugh is soft, though your body betrays you, your hands already resting on her hips. “You really think I’m gonna fuck you when you’re sick?”

“Why not?” she counters, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “Are you saying you’d stop just because of that?”

“Yes,” you say firmly, though your grip on her hips tightens slightly. “Because I actually care about your well-being, even if you don’t.”

Her smile widens, and she leans closer, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “For the sake of my well-being, I need to be fucked really hard. By you.”

You pull back slightly, giving her an incredulous look. “And how exactly is that supposed to help?”

She shrugs, her fingers sliding further up your chest. “It’s alternative treatment,” she says, her tone teasing. “I’m pretty sure it’s good for circulation or something.”

You shake your head, fighting a grin. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re already hard,” she points out, shifting her weight slightly to grind her hips against your lap. The motion is subtle, but it’s enough to make your cock twitch, the heat of her body pressing against you.

“Winter—” you start, but she cuts you off, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re hard from the thought of fucking a sick, vulnerable girl,” she says, her voice dropping to a provocative whisper.

You smirk, your hands sliding down to squeeze her little ass. “You don’t look very vulnerable right now.”

She laughs softly, her breath warm against your neck. “You’re right. I’m not. In fact, I’m fucking horny.”

Her words send a jolt straight through you, and before you can second-guess yourself, you’re standing, lifting her effortlessly into your arms. Winter squeals softly, her legs wrapping around your waist, her hands locking behind your neck.

“You’re so fucking naughty,” you mutter, carrying her toward the bedroom.

“And you’re irresistible,” she counters, grinning.

You glance down at her, her flushed cheeks, her bright eyes, her lips slightly parted. “You are too,” you admit, your voice quieter. “Too fucking irresistible for your own good.”

She leans in, brushing her lips against yours in a soft, teasing kiss. “Then don’t resist.”

You step into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind you before lowering her onto the bed. She looks up at you, her messy blonde hair splayed across the pillow, her lips curling into a pout. “Promise you’ll be affectionate with me after?” she asks, her voice soft but laced with mischief. “I'm so sensitive.”

You laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Sensitive? You? That’s the last thing you are.”

Her pout deepens, though the glint in her eyes gives her away. “I can be sensitive!”

“Sure you can,” you tease, your hands already sliding under her shirt. “But I think we both know you’re a lot more dangerous than that.”

She grins, her hands tugging you closer. “Dangerous or not, I’m all yours.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you murmur, lowering yourself over her as your lips capture hers in a kiss that promises everything she asked for—and more.

As you pull back from the kiss, standing over Winter while starting to unbutton your shirt, she suddenly shifts, adopting this dramatic, old-Hollywood expression. Her eyes widen with mock innocence, her hand fluttering delicately to her chest.

“Oh, Doctor,” she says in an exaggerated, breathy voice, like a starlet from a black-and-white film. “Are you sure this… treatment is absolutely necessary?”

You blink, momentarily thrown off. “What?”

“This treatment,” she repeats, pointing vaguely between the two of you. “It feels so… unconventional. I’m not sure I should be here.”

The way she’s looking at you, like she’s trying to win an Oscar, makes you snort. “What the hell are you doing?”

She gasps, putting a hand to her cheek like you’ve just scandalized her. “I’m your patient, Doctor! You mustn’t mock me in my time of need!”

It finally clicks, and you shake your head, chuckling as you play along. “Oh, I see how it is,” you say, pulling your shirt off and tossing it onto the floor, already working on your pants. “Well, don’t worry, Miss Winter. You’re my favorite patient. The most beautiful, the most well-behaved. You deserve the best care.”

She covers her mouth like she’s shocked, then peeks through her fingers with a mischievous grin. “Oh, Doctor, you must say that to all your patients.”

“I don’t,” you say firmly, now standing in just your underwear. You slide your hands slowly down her thighs, her skin soft and warm beneath your palms. “You’re the only one I touch like this. The only one I care for in such a… special way.”

Winter bites her lip, pretending to be shy as she squirms under your touch. “Doctor,” she whispers, her voice trembling with fake innocence. “Promise you’ll take good care of me?”

You smirk, leaning down so your face is close to hers. “I promise. That’s my job, after all.”

Her cheeks flush, and she looks up at you through her lashes. “You make me feel… strange things, Doctor.”

You raise an eyebrow, playing along. “Strange things? What kind of things, Miss Winter?”

She hesitates, biting her lip like she’s embarrassed. “Well… down there,” she says softly, gesturing vaguely toward her hips. “You make me all… wet.”

You fight back a grin, your hands tightening slightly on her thighs. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” she continues, her voice growing more dramatic. “And I’ve been having such impure thoughts about you, Doctor. Thoughts about your… hands. And your lips. And other things.”

You let out a low chuckle, leaning down to kiss her, slow and teasing. “That does sound serious,” you murmur against her lips. “But don’t worry, Miss Winter. I know exactly how to solve this.”

She gasps softly, her hands tangling in your hair as she kisses you back, her voice a little less dramatic now and a lot more needy. “Oh, Doctor,” she murmurs, her tone shifting into something real, full of anticipation.

You grab the hem of Winter’s oversized shirt, lifting it slowly, and the sight of her bare thighs makes your breath hitch. But when you lift it higher and realize she’s not wearing panties, her pussy already glistening, you pause.

“Fuck, Winter,” you mutter, your eyes locked on her. “You’ve been walking around like this the whole time?”

She grins, her cheeks flushed but full of mischief. “Maybe. It's more practical to simply not wear panties around you.”

You slide a hand between her legs, your fingers brushing against her wetness, and she gasps, her hips jerking slightly. “Soaked,” you murmur, rubbing her gently. “You’re soaked already. You’ve been like this the whole time, haven’t you?”

“Since you walked in,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I’ve been dreaming about this cock since you got here.”

You lean in, kissing her hard while your fingers work her pussy, sliding along her slick folds. She moans into your mouth, her hands reaching down to grip your cock through your underwear. The pressure is just enough to make you groan, and she strokes you, slow and deliberate, her fingers wrapping around your length.

“Dreaming about me, huh?” you say, pulling back just enough to look at her flushed face. “Were you even sick, Winter?”

She hesitates, biting her lip before confessing, “Maybe… I'm not that sick.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “Yeah, I’m noticing that.”

Your fingers slide inside her, and she lets out a sharp gasp, her nails digging into your shoulders. She’s tight, hot, and so wet it’s almost obscene. You move slowly at first, curling your fingers just right, and her moans grow louder, her body arching into your touch.

But then you pull your fingers out, watching as they glisten with her slickness. Without a word, you bring them to her lips. “Suck,” you command softly.

Winter’s eyes widen slightly, but she obeys, parting her lips and taking your fingers into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around them, slow and sensual, and the sight of her makes your cock throb painfully.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” you mutter, watching the way her lips move, how she looks up at you like she’s daring you to lose control.

You pull your fingers from her mouth with a soft pop, her lips shiny with saliva, and you smirk. “Open your mouth,” you say, your voice rough.

She does as you ask, her lips parting slightly, and you spit, the act filthy and intimate. She takes it without hesitation, her tongue darting out to taste it before you lean in and kiss her hard, your hand gripping the back of her neck.

Your other hand comes up to her cheeks, holding her face as you pull back slightly. “Tell me,” you murmur, your thumb brushing over her flushed skin. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need.

“That’s not polite,” you say, smirking. “Ask nicely.”

Her eyes darken, and she bites her lip before speaking again. “Please, daddy. Please fuck me. I need you so bad. Please.”

You grin, leaning down to kiss her again before pulling back. “Lie down,” you command.

Winter obeys, sliding back on the bed until she’s lying flat, her legs spreading instinctively. You strip off your underwear, your cock springing free, hard and already leaking.

“Condom?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

She shakes her head, her lips curling into a sly smile. “You know we don’t need it.”

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. “I like to be polite.”

She giggles, her laughter soft and breathy. “You don’t look so polite when you’re fucking me like an animal.”

You climb onto the bed, positioning yourself between her legs, your cock brushing against her entrance. “And you love it,” you say, rubbing the head of your cock along her slick folds, teasing her.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her hips shifting as she tries to take you in. “Yes, I love it. Please, don’t tease me.”

You lean down, your lips brushing against her ear. “Then beg louder,” you murmur.

Winter’s whines turn into outright begging, her voice trembling as her hips tilt up, desperate to pull you in.

“Please,” she whimpers, her hands gripping the sheets. “Please, I need it so bad. I’ll be your little whore, I promise. I’ll be good, daddy. I’ll do whatever you say—just fuck me already.”

Her words make you grin, the filthy desperation in her voice hitting you in all the right places. You look down at her, her angelic face flushed with need, her wide, pleading eyes fixed on you, and you can’t help but marvel.

“How can you look so sweet,” you murmur, your voice low, “and be such a little slut at the same time?”

Winter moans at the words, her thighs trembling as she spreads her legs even wider. “I’m your slut,” she whispers. “Only yours. Please, please, don’t tease me anymore. I need you.”

“Yeah?” you growl, gripping her hips tightly. “You’re mine, huh? My needy little slut?”

“Yes, daddy,” she cries, her nails digging into the sheets as her head tilts back. “All yours. Please, just fuck me!”

You don’t make her wait another second. With one powerful thrust, you bury yourself inside her, all at once, hard and fast. The sheer heat and tightness of her pussy make you groan, your fingers digging into her hips as her scream of pleasure fills the room.

“Fuck, Winter,” you growl, barely able to hold yourself back. “You’re so fucking tight.”

She’s writhing beneath you, her back arching as her hands grab at your arms, her moans coming high-pitched and desperate. “Yes, yes, fuck—just like that!”

You don’t waste time easing into it. You pull back and slam into her again, setting a violent, unrelenting pace that has the bed creaking and her cries growing louder with every thrust. Her pussy clenches around you, slick and hot and perfect, pulling you deeper every time.

“Goddamn, you take it so good,” you growl, leaning over her as your hips snap against hers. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To get fucked like this?”

“Yes!” she screams, her nails raking down your back. “Yes, yes—fuck me harder! Use me, please!”

“You love being my slut, don’t you?”

“I love it,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “I fucking love it. I’ll do anything—just don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Her legs wrap around your waist, locking you in place as her body trembles beneath you. Her moans are constant, her cries mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin. The sight of her like this—messy, desperate, completely lost in you—only makes you go harder, driving into her like you’re trying to ruin her.

“You feel so fucking good,” you groan, your grip on her tightening as you pound into her mercilessly. “This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it? Made to be fucked like this?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Winter cries, her voice shaking as she clings to you. “It’s yours—only yours. Please, I can’t take it—please don’t stop!”

Your cock drives into her over and over, each thrust rougher, deeper, more unrelenting than the last. Winter’s high-pitched moans fill the room, her thighs trembling as her hips push up to meet yours, desperate for every inch you’re giving her.

You bring your hand up to her throat, wrapping your fingers around it, just enough for her to feel it. Winter gasps at the touch, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours, and her lips part in a soft, breathy moan.

“You like this, don’t you?” you growl.

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need. “I love it. I love how you make me feel.”

You smirk, leaning down slightly, your hand tightening just enough to make her breathing shallow. “You love being submissive, huh? Love being at my mercy?”

Her head tilts back, her eyes rolling slightly as she moans louder, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. “Yes,” she whimpers. “I love it. I love being yours.”

The sight of her—so completely lost in the pleasure, so willing to let you take control—sends a jolt of heat through you. You squeeze her throat a little harder, watching the way her body reacts instantly, her back arching as her pussy clenches around your cock.

“Fuck, Winter,” you mutter, your hips snapping against hers. “You’re so fucking perfect like this. You’re made to be my little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she cries, her voice strained but dripping with need. “I’m your slut—your good little slut. Please, don’t stop, daddy.”

You lean down further, your lips brushing against her ear as your hand stays firmly on her throat. “You like being choked, don’t you? Like how it feels when I take control?”

Her eyes roll back again, her body shuddering beneath you. “Yes, yes—I love it,” she gasps, her voice barely audible now. “Please, don’t stop. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Yeah?” you growl, your other hand gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks as you thrust into her relentlessly. “You’d do anything for me?”

“Yes,” she moans, her nails digging into your arms. “Anything. I just want to please you.”

You tighten your grip on her throat slightly, watching as her lips part in a silent cry, her body arching off the bed. The way she looks right now—eyes hazy, mouth open, completely at your mercy—drives you insane.

“Good girl,” you mutter, your pace never faltering. “You’re such a good little slut for me. Taking my cock so well.”

Her moans grow louder again, her body writhing beneath you as you push her closer and closer to that edge. But you’re not done yet—you want her completely undone, begging for more, completely yours.

Your cock slams into Winter’s soaking wet pussy with relentless force, the violent pace making her body bounce with each thrust. Her moans are high-pitched, desperate, and completely filthy, and you can feel the way she’s tightening around you, her body trembling as she gets closer and closer.

“I’m close,” she cries, her voice breaking, her nails clawing at the sheets. “Fuck, I’m so close!”

The moment the words leave her mouth, you slow down drastically, pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in painfully slow. Winter whines loudly, her hips trying to chase yours for more friction, but you grab her waist, holding her still.

“What did you just say?” you growl, your voice low and dangerous. “You don’t cum unless I say so.”

“Sorry, daddy,” she whimpers, her eyes squeezing shut as her hands grip the sheets tightly.

“Do you?” you challenge, raising your hand and slapping her cheek firmly, just the way you know drives her wild. Her head turns with the impact, her lips parting in a sharp gasp, and her eyes flutter open, looking at you with a mix of surprise and arousal.

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

“Louder,” you demand, your hand gripping her chin to make her face you. “Speak clearly when I’m talking to you.”

“Yes!” she cries, her voice louder now, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glazed over. “I understand. I’ll be good, I swear!”

“That’s better,” you mutter, giving her one more light slap for good measure.

Without another word, you lift her off the bed with ease, her small frame fitting perfectly in your hands. You reposition her so she’s sitting in your lap, her back pressed against your chest. The intimacy of the position contrasts sharply with the dominance in your touch as you slide back into her, burying yourself deep.

Winter lets out a choked cry, her hands grabbing at your thighs as you hold her firmly against you. Your chest presses against her back, your arms wrapping around her waist as you start to move again, slow and possessive this time.

“Fuck,” you mutter, your lips brushing against her ear. “You feel so fucking good like this. You’re mine, Winter. My good girl.”

“Yes,” she moans, her head falling back against your shoulder. “I’m yours. I’ll be good, daddy—I promise, I’ll be good for you.”

“You better,” you growl, your teeth grazing her neck as your hands roam over her body, gripping her hips and pulling her down onto your cock with each thrust. “If you want to cum, you’re gonna have to earn it. Be the perfect little slut for me.”

“I will,” she gasps, her body trembling against yours. “I’ll do anything for you. Just don’t stop.”

You hold her tighter, your thrusts growing faster, deeper, the angle making her whimper and cry out with every movement. Her head rolls against your shoulder, her lips brushing against your neck as her hands grip your thighs desperately.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” you murmur, your voice rough with lust. “You take me so well. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” she cries, her voice breaking. “Made for you. Only for you.”

Your cock drives into Winter slowly, each deliberate thrust making her squirm in your lap. Her back is pressed tightly against your chest, her flushed skin damp with sweat, and her whines are soft and desperate, filling the room like music. You can feel how badly she wants it—the way her pussy clenches around you, her hips trying to push down to take you deeper. But you don’t let her.

Instead, your hand slides up to her throat, fingers wrapping around her delicate neck, and you give her a firm squeeze. She gasps at the contact, her head tilting back against your shoulder, exposing her throat to you.

“You really like this, don’t you?” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “The way I fuck you. The way I tease you.”

“Yes, daddy,” she whimpers, her hands gripping your arms for support. “I love it. I love everything about it.”

You squeeze her throat a little tighter, your lips brushing against her ear. “You sure about that?” you ask, your thrusts slowing even more, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in agonizingly slow. “Because if you’re not, I can stop. I won’t let you cum.”

“No!” Winter cries, her voice high-pitched and panicked. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

You chuckle darkly, your free hand sliding down to grip her hip, keeping her firmly in place as you continue your slow, deliberate pace. “Then tell me,” you growl. “Tell me how much you love this cock.”

“I love it,” she whines, her voice trembling with need. “I love your big, thick cock. I love the way it fills me up, the way it drives me crazy.”

Your cock twitches at her words, and you tighten your grip on her throat just enough to make her gasp. “Yeah?” you murmur, your tone still teasing. “You love the way I fuck you, don’t you? The way I make you beg like this?”

“Yes, yes,” she moans, her head rolling back against your shoulder. “I love it so much. You make me feel so good—so fucking good.”

You smirk, your lips grazing her jawline. “You’re not just saying that, are you?” you ask, your hand flexing around her throat. “Because if you’re lying, Winter, I swear I’ll stop right now.”

Her body shudders, and she turns her head slightly to look at you, her eyes glassy with desire. “I swear,” she says, her voice breaking. “It’s true. I love it. I love the way you fuck me. Please don’t stop, daddy. Please, let me cum.”

You study her for a moment, her trembling body, her wide, pleading eyes, the way her voice shakes with desperation. There’s no denying how much she means it, how much she needs this.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your grip on her throat easing slightly as you press a kiss to her cheek. “You’ve been so good for me.”

Winter moans softly, her hands tightening on your arms. “Does that mean I can cum?” she asks, her voice hopeful and needy.

“Not yet,” you reply, your smirk growing. “But soon. I’ll make sure it’s worth it.”

Your hands move up from Winter’s waist to her chest, cupping her small breasts as you start to squeeze and knead them. Her soft moans grow louder, her nipples hardening against your palms as you gradually pick up the pace, your cock sliding deeper and harder into her with every thrust.

“You like this?” you growl, your lips brushing against her ear as you whisper. “You like how I fill you up, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, her voice trembling. “I love it. I love how deep you are. Please, don’t stop.”

Your fingers pinch her nipples, twisting just enough to make her gasp, and you lean in closer, your breath hot against her ear. “I’m gonna fuck you every day,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “Every chance I get. I’m gonna make you scream so loud the neighbors’ll know exactly how good I fuck you.”

Winter shudders in your arms, her head tilting back against your shoulder as a moan tears from her lips. “Fuck,” she cries, her nails digging into the sheets. “I’d let you. I’d let you ruin me every fucking day.”

The way she says it, so shameless and raw, makes your cock twitch inside her. You smirk, gripping her hips tightly as you pull out slowly, savoring the way her pussy clings to you. Then you shove her forward, letting her fall onto her hands and knees.

“Get on all fours,” you command, your voice rough with need.

Winter scrambles into position, her pale little ass sticking up, her glistening pink pussy on full display for you. She looks back over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed and her lips parted as she waits.

“Good girl,” you murmur, stroking her ass lightly before positioning yourself behind her.

Her pussy is already full of creamy slickness, and when you slide back into her, the wet, obscene sound it makes drives you wild. “Shit,” you groan, your hands gripping her hips as you start to fuck her hard, the bed creaking beneath you.

Winter’s moans grow louder, turning into screams as you pound into her, your cock hitting her deep and fast. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” you growl, your hips slamming against her ass. “So wet and messy for me.”

Her cries are almost incoherent, her body jerking forward with each thrust. “Yes! Yes! Fuck me harder!” she begs, her voice breaking.

Your gaze drops to her ass, watching the way it bounces with every thrust. Her tight little hole quite inviting as you fuck her, so pink and tempting. You reach out, rubbing your thumb against it in slow, deliberate circles.

Winter gasps, her head snapping up as her back arches. “Oh my God,” she moans, her voice trembling. “Yes, touch me there—please, more!”

You keep rubbing, teasing her hole with your thumb as your cock slams into her harder, deeper. “You like that?” you growl, watching the way her body responds to every touch.

“Yes,” she cries, her hips pushing back against you. “I love it—don’t stop, please!”

Your grip on Winter’s hips tightens as you pick up the pace, your cock slamming into her soaking pussy harder and faster. Her screams are music to your ears, high-pitched and raw, echoing off the walls. Her ass bounces against you with every thrust, the creamy slickness of her pussy making every movement wet and obscene.

At the same time, your thumb continues massaging her tight, virgin asshole, slow, deliberate circles that make her body shudder beneath you. Her moans turn breathless, desperate, her hips twitching as she pushes back against your hand.

“You like it when I play with your ass, don’t you?” you growl, leaning forward slightly, your breath hot against the back of her neck.

“Yes,” Winter moans, her voice trembling with need. “Fuck, yes—I love it!”

“You’re such a fucking slut,” you snarl, your thumb pressing more firmly against her entrance. “Getting off on me fucking your pussy and playing with your ass at the same time. That’s what you are—a needy little slut.”

“Yes,” she cries, her voice breaking. “I’m your slut—only yours. Please, don’t stop!”

You grin, knowing how much she loves hearing you call her that, and you feel her pussy clench tighter around you, her body trembling as she edges closer to the brink.

“I’m close,” she warns, her voice shaky and frantic. “Fuck, I’m so close!”

Your pace becomes brutal, your hips slamming against her ass as you drive into her harder, deeper, faster. At the same time, you press harder on her asshole, teasing her entrance with your thumb.

“You’re gonna cum with my finger in your ass, aren’t you?” you growl.

“Yes!” she screams, her voice raw. “Yes, yes—please, make me cum! I need it!”

You smirk, pushing your thumb in slowly, just enough to stretch her a little, and her reaction is instant. Her back arches sharply, and she lets out a guttural moan, her nails clawing at the sheets.

“Fuck, Winter,” you groan, your cock driving into her harder as your thumb moves slightly inside her. “You’re so fucking tight everywhere. Such a perfect little slut for me.”

Her cries grow louder, her body shaking violently as she teeters on the edge. “I’m gonna cum—I’m gonna fucking cum!” she screams, her voice echoing through the room.

“Do it,” you growl, your grip on her tightening as you fuck her relentlessly, your thumb pressing deeper. “Cum for me. Let me feel it.”

Winter’s entire body tenses, her head snapping back as a scream tears from her throat, so loud it’s a miracle the neighbors don’t start banging on the walls. Her pussy clamps down on your cock, her hips jerking uncontrollably as her orgasm crashes over her, wave after wave of pleasure leaving her shaking and gasping for air.

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling the way her body spasms around you, completely undone.

Her cries eventually fade into soft whimpers, her body going limp beneath you as she collapses onto the bed, her chest heaving. You pull out slowly, your thumb sliding from her ass, and you smirk as you watch her shiver from the aftershocks.

“You’re fucking perfect,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to her back.

You hold Winter close against your chest, showering her neck and shoulders with tender kisses as she catches her breath. Her body is still trembling from the intense orgasm you just gave her, her pussy dripping wet and sensitive. You stroke her hair gently while whispering in her ear.

"Such a good girl for daddy, cumming so hard on my cock like that. You're perfect, baby."

Winter preens under the praise, a proud smile spreading across her flushed face. She's never experienced pleasure this intense before - her whole body is still tingling from the force of her climax. Your words make her feel cherished and special.

"The neighbors definitely heard what a naughty girl you are," you tease, making her bury her face in the mattress with an embarrassed whimper. Her ass wiggles enticingly as she squirms.

"I bet they heard every single moan and scream while I was pounding your tight little pussy. Now everyone knows what a dirty girl you are for daddy.”

Winter's embarrassment only makes her more aroused. She can feel your hard cock still buried deep inside her, and she desperately wants to make you feel as good as you made her feel.

"Please daddy," she whimpers needily, turning her head to look at you with big innocent eyes. "I want to make you cum now. Will you...will you cum in my ass?"

Your cock twitches inside her at those filthy words coming from such a sweet mouth. Hearing your innocent submissive good girl beg for anal makes your head spin with lust.

"Is that what you want, baby? You want daddy to fill up your tight little asshole with cum?" You give her ass a firm squeeze.

"Yes daddy, please," she moans. "After you played with my ass, I can't stop thinking about having you inside me there. I want to feel your hot cum filling me up."

"Fuck, you're such a dirty girl," you growl, your cock hardening even more. "Begging daddy to cum in your virgin ass like a little anal slut."

Winter whimpers and pushes her ass back against you needily. "Please daddy, keep fucking my pussy and when you're about to cum, just put the tip in my ass and fill me up. I want to feel it so bad."

"Stay right there on your stomach like a good girl," you command, repositioning yourself between her spread legs. Your cock is still buried in her dripping pussy, and you start thrusting again at a steady pace.

Winter moans and arches her back, presenting her ass to you perfectly. "Does daddy like my tight little holes? They're all yours to fill up however you want."

Her dirty talk drives you wild and you pick up the pace, fucking her pussy harder. "Keep talking like that baby, tell daddy what a naughty anal slut you are.”

"I'm your anal slut daddy," she pants between moans. "I want you to stretch my virgin asshole and fill it with your hot cum. I've been such a good girl, please give me my reward."

You spread her plump ass cheeks apart with both hands, exposing her tiny pink asshole. The sight of that tight virgin hole makes your cock throb with need. You start fucking her pussy even faster, your heavy balls slapping against her clit.

"Look at this perfect little asshole," you growl. "So tight and pretty, just begging to be filled with daddy's cum. You want it bad don't you baby?"

"Yes daddy, please! I need it so bad," Winter begs shamelessly. "Cum deep in my ass, mark me as yours. I want to feel your hot cum dripping out of me."

Her filthy words push you closer to the edge. You spread her ass wider, watching your cock slide in and out of her soaked pussy while her tight asshole clenches and relaxes invitingly.

"Such a dirty little anal virgin," you pant. "Begging daddy to take your ass and fill you up. I'm going to cum so deep inside that tight hole."

Winter's moans get louder and more desperate. "Please daddy, I'm ready for you. Put it in my ass and fill me up with your cum. I want to be your anal slut."

You can feel your orgasm building as you pound her pussy relentlessly. Her tight walls squeeze your cock perfectly while she continues begging for anal.

"Daddy please, I need your cum in my ass so bad. Make me your anal princess. Fill up my virgin hole."

When you're right on the edge, you pull out of her dripping pussy. With one hand you spread her ass cheek wide, exposing her tiny pink hole. With the other, you guide the head of your cock to press against her virgin entrance.

The tight ring of muscle resists at first, but then the head of your cock pops inside her ass. The incredible tightness sends you over the edge instantly. Winter cries out as she feels your hot cum start flooding her virgin asshole.

"Fuck baby, taking daddy's cum so deep in your ass," you groan as you empty your balls inside her. "Such a good anal slut for me."

Winter moans and shivers as she feels each hot spurt of cum filling her ass. The head of your cock stays snugly buried in her incredibly tight hole as you finish cumming.

When you finally pull out, your cum immediately starts leaking from her stretched asshole. You spread both of her cheeks wide apart to watch the erotic sight of your white cum dripping down toward her pussy.

"Look how pretty your ass looks leaking daddy's cum," you praise her. "Such a perfect little anal princess."

Winter whimpers and wiggles her ass. "Thank you daddy. I loved feeling you cum in my ass."

You continue admiring the view of your cum trickling from her freshly-fucked hole. Her virgin ass took you so well, stretching perfectly around the head of your cock.

"We're definitely doing that again baby," you tell her, giving her ass a playful smack. "Now daddy knows what a naughty anal slut you can be."

Winter blushes but smiles proudly, happy to have pleased you. She can still feel your hot cum inside her ass, marking her as yours.

You lay down beside her and pull her into your arms, peppering her face with soft kisses. She snuggles against your chest contentedly while your cum continues slowly leaking from her ass.

"Such a good girl for daddy," you murmur. "Taking my cock in your virgin ass like that. Did you like having daddy's cum filling you up?"

"Yes daddy," she says shyly. "It felt so naughty but so good. I loved feeling you cum inside me."

You stroke her hair and hold her close, letting her bask in the afterglow of her first anal experience. Her body is completely relaxed against yours, thoroughly satisfied.

"Next time I'll fuck that tight ass properly," you promise. "Really stretch you open and fill you with cum over and over."

Winter shivers with arousal at your words. "Yes please daddy. I want to be your anal slut whenever you want."

You spend the next little while cuddling and exchanging soft kisses, your hands roaming over her curves possessively. Winter occasionally squirms as she feels more of your cum trickling from her ass.

"Should we get cleaned up baby?" you ask after a while, noticing the mess of cum between her legs.

"Not yet," she says, clinging to you. "I like feeling your cum inside me. Makes me feel like I'm yours."

You smile and kiss her forehead. "You are mine baby. My perfect little anal princess."

—

You sit across from Winter at a small café table, the sunlight spilling through the large windows and catching the golden streaks in her blonde hair. She’s wearing a light yellow sundress that flares out just above her knees, a little bow tied at the waist. The dress shows just enough skin to drive you crazy while still looking effortlessly cute. Her white sneakers complete the look, giving her an innocent, casual charm that feels so uniquely hers.

Winter’s playful smile is fixed on you, her chin propped on her hand as she stirs her iced coffee lazily with a straw. She’s got that look, the one that says she knows something you don’t. Probably feeling like she’s already won whatever unspoken game you’re playing.

“You’re really feeling better?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you take a sip of your drink.

She nods, her grin widening. “Completely cured.”

“You sure? Because you got better awfully fast. Makes me wonder if you were even sick in the first place.”

Winter lets out a soft laugh, twirling the straw between her fingers. “That’s because of you,” she says, batting her lashes mockingly. “You were such good… medicine.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Medicine, huh? Pretty sure I broke a few ethical guidelines as your doctor.”

“Yeah, well,” she teases, leaning forward slightly, “I’m not complaining.”

She looks too damn proud of herself, and you can’t resist poking at her.

“Hey, you spilled some coffee on the table,” you say, pointing to where she spilled it.

“Oh, you're right! Hand me a napkin.”

You pick up a napkin and slide it toward her. “Here. Do you clean by yourself or do you want daddy to help you?” you ask, purposely raising your voice a little.

The shift is instant. Winter’s playful confidence crumbles as her cheeks turn bright red, her eyes darting around the café to make sure no one heard.

“Are you insane?” she hisses, grabbing the napkin and glaring at you. “Don’t say things like that in public!”

You chuckle, leaning your elbows on the table. “Why not? You seemed to love it in bed yesterday. Hell, you couldn’t stop saying it.”

Her face gets even redder, and she throws the napkin back at you, hitting you square in the chest. “I was dying of embarrassment even leaving the house today!” she exclaims. “I’m pretty sure the neighbors really heard everything.”

Your laughter only makes her more flustered, and you lean back, grinning. “Hey, you asked for it. Literally.”

Winter groans, burying her face in her hands for a moment before peeking out at you. “You’re insufferable.”

“You chose the insufferable,” you say smoothly.

She tries to hold her annoyed expression, but a small smile slips through. “Whatever,” she mutters, picking up her coffee again.

“So,” you say after a moment, tilting your head. “You gonna call me daddy again later?”

Winter glances up at you, her lips twitching as she tries not to smile too much. “Yeah,” she says softly, her eyes meeting yours. “I love calling you that.”

There’s a moment of silence, charged but comfortable, before you clear your throat. “Anyway, why’d you pick this café again? There are like, fifty others places we could’ve gone to.”

Winter shrugs, stirring her drink again. “Last time didn’t count.”

“Didn’t count?”

She looks up at you, her expression soft but serious. “You dodged all my questions last time. You didn’t even seem like you wanted to be there.”

The guilt hits you instantly, and you exhale, leaning forward. “Yeah, I… I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t you, though. It’s just…” You pause, lowering your head. “You already know the reason.”

Winter nods. “I know. But it still kind of sucked.”

You nod, meeting her gaze. “You’re right. It did. I didn’t handle it well, and I’m sorry. But I’m here now. And this time, I won’t run.”

Her smile grows, slow and genuine, lighting up her entire face. “You promise?”

“Promise,” you say softly.

Winter leans forward, resting her chin in her hand again, her grin turning playful once more. “Good. Because I wasn’t gonna let you run anyway.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out.”

For the first time in a long time, you feel it—something steady, something warm. Maybe this time it’s worth the risk. Especially with her.

[kei-kinda-writes]

S/O from the support course!!

TYPE: Headcannons, includes: How you meet, How you end up together, and general/extra

CHARACTERS (separate): Shoto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya, Ochako Uraraka

WARNING: Mentions and references to some of the final battles and events from the series but nothing too big

SHOTO TODOROKI

How you meet:

100% you two met after the sports festival most likely getting help for redesigning his hero costume!!

Assuming it took awhile to choose the designs probably met and had lunch together several times and grew closer

Although lunches were mostly focused on his costume once in awhile would turn into small talk and getting to know one another leading to exchanging numbers

Once finished his costume out of habit started sitting with you

Definitely ended in an interrogation from Midoriya, Ochako, and Iida after he kept on going missing during lunch to sit with you

Grew closer always sitting with one another during lunch and after over text

How you end up together:

Probably went to his friends for help about his feelings 

either one of them or he let it slip one lunch and did not realize

Two ways this ends up playing out

Either one: You ask him about it and the two of you talking about it over text that night and putting a label on it (not entirely sure)

Or two: You completely ignore it and he ends confessing like wayyyy later

Either way most likely required pushing from Ochako, Iida, and Midoriya

General:

Will find the smallest errors about his costume just to visit you

If you were to have a sketchbook or journal of some sorts for coming up with designs would put little doodles on the pages ex. smiley faces, cats, maybe even to stick men and heart with ‘us’ in it

If anyone asked about his costume he would (even if not related whatsoever) proudly talk about how you helped him make it

Asked you about whether or not the five wieners kid was right

Always hanging out in the weekend and during lunch due to not sharing any classes

Share bits of each others lunches

Getting close with Midoriya, Ochako, and Iida since you all end up sitting together during lunch ^^

Also with everything that went down in terms of his family situation and other stuff in the first year it’s likely you don’t get together till your second or third year

KATSUKI BAKUGO

How you meet:

Came along with kaminari or kirishima when they were getting costume improvements and met you

You guys were sorta friends for awhile but you weren’t entirely close

Maybe you were the one to propose the idea of his support item in the Shigaraki fight (I forgot what it’s called)

Or he came to you asking about it since you were always doing Kaminari and Kirishimas stuff and you were likely the only support course student he knew and could request it from

Building off that idea it’s probably the only way you guys became friends, I’d imagine you’d end up closer much later in the school year rather then the beginning

You’d end up getting closer as you two worked together on the piece likely meeting after school most times

Potentially gave you a compliment for your work

How you end up together:

It wouldn’t be until you guys are in your second or third year because of your late start

That’s cause I think Bakugo would be someone who very much likes to take his time with relationships

The whole confession was likely a letter on a special holiday probably because he was nervous he’d mess it up and letters are easier

That likely resulted in talking it out over lunch he had set up for you two

Took you to a secluded area not too far from campus with some food he made and you guys put a label on your relationship :))

General:

checks up on you whenever your working outside of school hours and brings you food

Doesn’t yell at you as much as he does at others

NO. MATTER. WHAT. He will always get his costume repaired by you, absolutely refuses to let someone else do it <- this has ended up in several incidents

Recommends you to his friends, 100%

Probably takes you out to lunch to catch up with eachother every once in awhile

Would reluctantly listen if you ramble about costume and support item ideas

building off that he’d probably listen and give his own ideas maybe if you were working with another student would give you feedback on what to add

IZUKU MIDORIYA

How you meet:

You meet around halfway through the school year

Could only be when Hatsume was out sick and he needed repairs on his costume

Either that or Hatsume recommends him to you when she’s busy during school festival

Past then whenever he ended up needed adjustments with his costume and went to visit Hatsume he’d talk to you and check in on you

After some small talk you’d end up exchanging numbers and getting to know eachother better over text

Probably hang out once or twice and invites to join him at lunch! :D

Eventually he starts turning to you and Hatsume for costume adjustments and repairs and you guys slowly grow closer

How you end up together:

Midoriya probably has talked to Uraraka for help

However he’s probably too shy and flustered to confess in person so there’s one of two scenarios

1: he goes to ask Uraraka for help and ends up texting you instead

It ends up a complete incident but you guys talk it out and end up together

OR

2: similarly to bakugo he gives a letter of some sorts and you guys talk about it in a secluded area

You guys likely don’t end up together until your second year though if I’m thinking realistically especially with his dedication towards one for all and being a hero

General:

quirk rambling and analysis together

Study dates :D

Daily good morning texts and stuff since you don’t see eachother super often

Movie dates in each others dorms where you watch documentaries about quirks or all might

Sitting next to eachother during lunch

Maybe he joins you in the support course lab and does his homework or something while you tinker and such :))

Probably lots of time just spent quietly doing work together

Bringing eachother food when either is working for awhile is a 100%

OCHAKO URARAKA

How you meet:

Costume improvements!!!

Specifically working together on her wrist bands, likely took awhile to figure out but you guys ended up close in the end and exchanging numbers!

For the first ‘trial period’ of using them I bet they got tangled often and she’d use that as an excuse to come visit you

Probably got closer over text and it became a very nice friendship

And she would always turn to you about her costume

How you end up together:

Confesses in person, I think she’d prefer to do it face to face even if she’s all anxious and flustered

I think you wouldn’t end up together until your third year due to the events of the final battle

At your grad party she probably took you aside for a a breather and you had a talk

Boom boom and boom you both come back to the party grinning and holding hands and you’re together :))

Very quick and easy but I’m sure her confession was well though out and heartfelt

General:

Eating Mochi together :D

Matching bracelets and stuff if that’s your jam

Building on that you would make them together and everything it would be sweet

Craft and art dates

Walks around the campus together on weekends to catch up with one another

Same as Todoroki if you had a notebook she would doodle in it

Gives you notes with silly drawings since you can’t hang out often!!

Asks for ideas on support items for her costume

I think she’d be fascinated by your work and would end up watching you lots of the time after school

When she changed her hair 100% came to you and you guys figured it out together (probably ended calling in someone else to help though)

Thanks for reading!

Side note: lmk if there’s any other characters you’d like done, I had lots of fun. Additionally apologies if there’s any typos, things don’t make sense, or the characters feel as though they aren’t properly done!

[starkwlkr]

banned | charles leclerc

Charles and Y/N were in bed watching some netflix documentary. It was a Saturday morning, the couple didn't have any plans so they decided to stay in bed for an extra hour. Ruby was in her room playing with her dolls, but as time went on, she walked into her parent's room, still in her pajamas, and told them she had gotten bored of her barbies.

"Papa, can I play a game on your phone?" Ruby asked, climbing onto the bed and laying ontop of Charles.

"What happened to your iPad?" Charles questioned.

"Its with grand-mère, I forgot it." Ruby frowned.

"Okay, but not for too long." Charles sighed and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. "If someone calls, bring it to me, okay?"

Ruby nodded and climbed off. Her little feet took her to the living room. She sat on the couch and tried to find the game Charles had installed for her to play. Instead of clicking on the game, a certain colorful app caught her eye. She clicked on the Instagram app and the first thing she saw on Charles' feed was a picture of Y/N that she had posted recently. Her chubby fingers clicked on the heart then clicked on the comments. She knew how to spell since Y/N and Charles were teaching her so she slowly typed out a comment.

charles_leclerc MOMMY

seconds later, hundreds of notifications came flooding in.

f1lucyyy CHARLES WHAT

forzacharles SAME CHARLES

gasly10pierre he's so real for that

back in Charles and Y/N bedroom, Charles was too focused on giving his wife her morning kisses. They had completely forgotten about the documentary that was playing on the tv. Y/N was also too busy to even notice the notifications going off from her phone.

Ruby was having too much fun with her dad's phone. She kept liking photos and even took some up close photos of her face with funny filters. That's when she saw the LIVE option. Ruby, being the curious girl she is, clicked on LIVE and wondered what it was doing.

charles_leclerc started a live video

The screen showed her face, but nothing was happening. She was extremely confused. Then the comments started popping up.

schumacherlegacy BABY LECLERC

vettel.jpg BABY LECLERC WHATS YOUR DAD'S CREDIT CARD NUMBER

f1weekly yooo house tour

f1paddockgirlies omg someone screen record this iconic moment

"What's a credit card?" Ruby asked as if someone was going to tell her. She thought it was recording so an idea popped up in her head. She raced to her room with Charles' phone in hand and grabbed her favorite barbies. As she ran back, Charles called her name, unaware that his phone was capturing everything.

"Ruby! Slow down, I don't want you to fall." Charles called out.

al0nz04 OMG HER NAME IS RUBY

norriswag RUBY OMG WE FINALLY KNOW HER NAME

leclercxl/n i feel like i shouldn't be watching this 😭 she probably doesn't even know what's going on

y/nscloset guys don't screen record!! she's a child, we shouldn't be spreading information about her without y/n or charles knowing

"Sorry, papa." Ruby apologized.

"Its okay, baby. Are you hungry?" Y/N asked her daughter.

"No," Ruby quickly said and ran back to the living room.

"Ruby Jules!"

f1gossip omg they named her after jules 😭

wagstyle ok charles come get ur child before she leaks your address

Ruby positioned the phone against her mom's favorite candle and showed the camera a barbie that her uncle Lorenzo had gotten her.

"I like this one. She has pretty hair and my uncle Enzo got it for me." She brought the barbie extremely close to the camera.

leclercfamily she's in her vlog era

Ruby then set the barbie down and grabbed her favorite american girl doll that Charles got for her. "Papa got me this one. She has purple hair and has a crown, see?" Ruby showed the camera yet again. "I have more. And I have things for her hair." This time she ran to her playroom where most of her dolls were located. Instead of taking the phone with her, she left it propped up against the candle.

This game the users a clear view of the Leclerc family home, well some of it.

maxsupermax they really have a giant ass piano in their living room.

buttonvettel IS THAT THE MONZA TROPHY JUST SITTING BY THE DOOR

Ruby came back with all her american girl doll accessories. They were in the classic american girl red bag, but Ruby decided to dump it all on the floor.

"Ruby! What are you doing?" Y/N called out as Charles kissed her neck.

"Playing." Ruby said casually.

"Charles, get up. This girl might be writing on the walls." Y/N said, but Charles wouldn't get off of her.

"She's playing on my phone, she's okay."

"Still, let me get up. My amazon package gets delivered today. Get up, Perceval!" Y/N pinched his side, causing him to groan in pain and finally get off his wife.

Charles dramatically rolled onto his side. "It hurts. It hurts more when you don't have a shirt on."

"You're alive, dear husband." Y/N rolled her eyes and got up from the bed. She put on her slippers, not bothering to put on a proper shirt so she walked to the front door in her matching black silk shorts and lace top. She failed to notice her daughter on Instagram live.

y/nisamilf Y/N TURN AROUND

ricciardofiles RUBY GET UR MOM

verstappenxpiquet does she even know how to read?

"I know how to read." Ruby said to the camera.

Once Y/N opened the door, she heard her daughter say something. "What did you say, baby?" She said, still not looking in Ruby's direction as she retrieved her package from the front door.

"I said i know how to read." Ruby replied.

"Yeah, you do. You're a smart girl." Y/N nodded and went to her office that was right next to Ruby's play room.

Ruby continued showing the camera her toys.

leclercstype american girl haul slay

formulahoe STOP THIS IS GOING ON FOR TOO LONG

paddockbitches ruby is MY world champion

Then Charles finally came into the frame. He was shirtless so all the comments went by too fast for Ruby to read. Like Y/N, he didn't notice Ruby trying to read comments on the phone.

As Charles was about to ask Ruby what she wanted for breakfast, Y/N's phone started to ring. Charles quickly made his way back to the shared bedroom. He looked at the phone screen and saw that his brother Arthur was the one calling. He answered the call.

"Hey, good morning-"

"Get your phone! Ruby is on Instagram live!" Arthur said.

"What?"

"She's live, Charles!"

Charles quickly ran to the living room to find Ruby showing the camera a framed photo of Charles and Y/N's wedding. "Ruby, give me the phone!" Charles raised his voice, making Y/N come out of her office wondering what was going on.

"I was showing the pretty picture!"

Y/N ran to Ruby and saw that she was showing the viewers her wedding picture. "Baby, give papa his phone back."

"Okay. The game was boring." Ruby handed Charles his phone back and went to her playroom.

Charles quickly ended the live and put his phone on the coffee table. "She's never playing on my phone ever again."

"Who told you she was on Instagram?" Y/N asked.

"Arthur. He called you, I answered. He probably got a notification that ruby went live." Charles sighed. "Well, I think everyone knows her name by now."

"Oh my god, wait give me my phone. I have your post notifications on." Y/N gasped.

Charles handed her her phone. He watched as she scrolled through all the Instagram notifications. She then held the phone out for him to see. "She used your account to comment on my picture. Look what she said."

Charles laughed at the comment. "Well she's not wrong. The fans did call you a milf."

"Imagine the ones that missed Ruby's live, they're going to see this comment and think that you have some weird kink. Good luck explaining that, Perceval." Y/N kissed Charles' cheek and went to Ruby's playroom.

"From now on, Ruby is on a phone ban!"

ruby is so chaotic i love her, she's my fav leclerc fr

[highonmarvel]

heyy lov ur fics. saw you wanted some bucky recs so i got one. how about like bucky and reader have been dating for 2-3 months and he's always sweet to her and always making sure she was happy. he even promised to get rid of almost all of his weapons. but then he secretly didnt. he still had them, for "saftey purposes" he couldnt let anything happen to u. so he kept them in a secret room along with some pictures of u he took when he was observing(stalking) you before he entered into ur life -P1

that’s actually such a scary idea, i love it. okay, okay, you had a lot so apologises if it’s a bit different than you were expecting, but i tried, and i had fun! let me know if you like it! and my sweet sister @thehydraethereal, tell me what you think.

The Sun

Bucky Barnes: Bucky’s world revolves around you, The Sun, his sunshine, and he’ll do just about anything to make you happy, but everything to keep you safe.

CONTENT WARNING: This is a dark fic, please read content warnings here! 18+!

You’ve always been more of a glass half-full type of person, but with Bucky, you’ve really turned into a ray of sunshine—he just brings that out in you, treating you as precious as every breath he takes and as vital to life as the Sun itself. He said that to you once, when you asked why he calls you sunshine while laying your head in his lap, smiling in bliss as he stroked your hair. He said, “My world revolves around you.”

Even after three months, he still treats you with the same respect and gentleness and love and patience as that very first day, if not even more. There was only once you two had had a serious disagreement—it wasn’t really an argument, no one was angry, but it certainly could’ve been a massive dealbreaker for you.

Bucky never spoke much of his childhood, his teenage years, or even his adult ones, he only really went three years into the past, max, but you had pieced together he’s been through a lot, and so you never pushed him, but you made sure to make it clear you’d be there for him if and when he was ready to talk about it. There was a lot he did that showed you he was a war vet, and that as reluctant as he may be to admit it, he was suffering from some form of PTSD—he doesn’t like watching espionage films, or even movies with too much violence (which you don’t mind skipping, you don’t care too much for them either way), he’s sensitive to loud noises and a few times he’s jolted you out of your slumber with his nightmares, but he claims they’re much better with you than before. The metal arm also fascinated you—he said it’s made of vibranium, and you frowned at the thought of why he would need such a strong arm, but that you managed to get used to. What you couldn’t get used to, however, was his weaponry.

You had been sitting on the couch together when there was a thud from the next room over, and Bucky jumped up, soldier stance and everything, ready to go check it out. You were about to assure him it was nothing, tell him you forgot to close a window and a breeze probably knocked something over, when he slid a knife out of his boot and your breath caught in your throat. You followed the silver glint with your eyes as he stalked around the corner and then disappeared for a few moments.

“Birdie slammed against the window,” he said, relieved with a small smile, and you could hardly believe the juxtaposition between his use of the term ‘birdie’ while he held a knife securely in his hand. When you didn’t respond, staring at him with wide eyes, his brows turned downward in show of concern, and his voice came sincerely, “What’s wrong, sweetheart? It was nothing.” He incorrectly assumed the noise had scared you, but quickly came to understand when he noticed your gaze fixed on the knife.

“This?” he asked, casually, spinning the knife on his finger, but when you jumped back, he quickly hid it behind his back and cast his head downward in shame. He hadn’t meant to scare you, and though he felt bad, he couldn’t help but feel a little offended you’d think his arsenal was something to be afraid of. He’d never lay a hand on you, let alone a tool, why were you scared? Did you not trust him? He only kept this stuff to keep you safe. And besides, you knew about his slight paranoia with defence, so why did this catch you off guard? Sure, maybe the knife in the boot was a little too much for you to handle, but you seemed to take more issue with its existence rather than his convenient hiding.

“Sorry,” he mumbled an apology, managing to look up at you. “I didn’t mean to scare you, just had to make sure everything was alright.” He offered a weak smile in hopes of setting you at ease, but it faded when you stood up to confront him, shaking slightly.

“Why do you have a knife?” you asked in horror, voice raising in pitch. “What— do you just— do you just always have that on you?”

It’s the knife you’re worried about. Darling, if you knew the half of it.

“Protection,” he answered simply, innocently, not understanding your reaction.

“What— what else do you have? And— and in your house? You have to get rid of it!”

At any other time he would have pushed back on this (gently, of course), but in your frantic state he knew it wouldn’t serve either of you very well. He really hadn’t expected you to start hyperventilating about it. He switched to soothing you, holding you in his arms and promising he would get rid of all that, that you could feel safe… even though in his mind, his weapons were to make you feel safe, to keep you safe.

There’s a cupboard in Bucky’s house that’s always locked, and he tells you it’s just tools and some clutter he needs to clear out. But what you don’t know is he’s still got his shit in there. In any other circumstance, he would do anything you asked of him, but in this case, he got the impression you didn’t understand, that you were a little naïve when it came to this sort of stuff, like you’d always been sheltered and protected in a way that never needed violence. But he knows what the real world is like, and he knows what he’s got to do to keep you safe.

That was a few months ago. Now, trying to watch a film from the 40s—something with Jimmy Stewart, to grant Bucky a little nostalgia and tick another movie off your cinephile list—you both doze off, but you wake up before him. He usually wakes up earlier than you and falls asleep later, so you rarely see him asleep, only once you had to wake him up from the vivid nightmare, but here, now, he’s peaceful—his eyes are shut, his breathing is steady, his muscles aren’t tensed, this is the first time you’ve seen him lose himself to unconsciousness, and your heart swells at the realisation he feels safe enough to be so vulnerable around you.

As much as you would have loved to watch him breathe, after all the snacks you ate during the movie, your hands are sticky and you can’t really fall back asleep without washing them. On the way to the bathroom, you pause just before the door. The cupboard Bucky keeps his tools in is slightly ajar, it’s always been locked. And you’re not sure what compels you to head over to the door, but you carefully open it, wincing when it creaks slightly, before gasping at the scene.

He said he’d get rid of them! Not only are there multiple sharp blades of varying lengths, there’s more ammo that you could ever imagine needing, pistols, and a shotgun on the wall, you’re pretty sure you spot a fucking grenade, but maybe most terrifyingly is a mask. If this really was for safety (you’re really trying to give him the benefit of the doubt here) why the fuck did he have a mask? Like he was hiding behind it. He wouldn’t need to hide his identity from an intruder, he’d only need to if he was trying not to get caught if he was doing something wrong, if he was—

Bucky drops the bat to catch you before you hit the ground, wincing at the sight of your limp body in his arms. Fuck, he had stuck up a few more pictures of you earlier that day, and clearly forgot to lock the closet. The guilt from hurting you is enough to make him sick, but he’s got to figure out how to savage this.

If he just sets you right back on the couch and puts on some kind of thriller movie, you’ll think it was a dream when you wake up again, right? That your subconscious mind was taking in what was playing on the TV and affecting your sleep. That makes sense, that makes perfect sense, and that’s for you to figure out on your own; he won’t need to explain it or answer questions because really all it was was a bad dream, and he knows about those, you know he has experience with them, you’ll believe him when he tells you how real they can feel—you’ve seen it—and trust that everything’s alright, and he’s good to keep you safe.

After an hour, you begin to stir, and he redirects his gaze from being hyper focused on you to watching the film intently, though this far in he doesn’t know anything about the plot and hopes you don’t ask too many questions about it.

When he hears your quiet moans indicating you’re awake now, and feels your stretch beside him, he looks back at you. “Mornin’, Sunshine,” he teases, hoping you’ll giggle and say something about not realising it was dark outside. But you don’t, instead you startle and recoil back slightly, eyeing him suspiciously.

He forces his brows to furrow in confusion as he sets his half empty bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table. He tries to shift towards you but when you shift back, he sighs and stays in place.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asks in a low voice, his tone sincere and soothing. But he can tell you don’t buy it.

“You said you’d get rid of them!” you yell, and he winces slightly—you’ve never raised your voice at him, and if you’re this worked up over it it might take him a little more patience than anticipated to do some damage control.

“Get rid of what?” he asks. The best thing to do here is just play dumb.

“Your— your weapons! There’s— there’s so many of them, you said you’d get rid of them!”

“Baby, baby, baby,” he coos when you start breathing heavily, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “You just had a bad dream, okay? It’s alright…”

“No!” you shriek, kicking him away from you. “In the— in the closet!”

“What closet?”

“The— the one with the tools!”

“There’s nothing in there, sweetheart.”

“Then open it.”

He freezes for a second—he hadn’t expected you to ask that. “I don’t— I don’t know where the key is.” Fuck. He’s fucked. He knew it from the moment he hesitated, and his stuttering further solidified his guilt in your mind. His eyes grew just a little wider as he waited for you to respond, hardly breathing. You can read him like an open book, and he knows he can’t backtrack the few small ticks that set you on the scent.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him for a moment, but blink, and then nod, slowing your breaths down and directing your stare to the floor. “Alright,” you say, and Bucky himself can’t help but sigh in relief.

“I’m sorry you had a bad dream,” he coos as he shifts closer to you, and this time, you don’t shift away. He puts his arms around you and comfortingly rubs your shoulder, resting his head on top of yours.

You don’t buy it for a second.

That’s way too specific a dream for you to have months after even thinking about that stuff, and you’re not fucking stupid, you can tell what’s real and what’s not, and that was real. But for the time being, it seems easier to appease him. Maybe you really did imagine it… you doubt it, though, especially when Bucky’s body went rigid in response to your request. Even if you didn’t see what you thought you did, he’s definitely hiding something in that closet.

His phone rings, and he sighs, apologising as he carefully unwraps himself from you, reaching into his pocket to answer the phone as he stands up. “Hello?” There’s a few quick and low words from whoever’s on the other end and the groan he lets out allows you to guess it’s something Avengers-related. Though he isn’t an Avenger anymore (he gave up all violence, even in the name of justice) Sam does occasionally call him up to ask for advice on espionage matters or blueprints or just his thoughts on whatever’s going on.

“I’ve got to run, sweetheart; Sam’s being an asshole and I need to do some damage control,” he chuckles, and looks back down at you hesitantly, waiting for a response of some kind, but you’re quiet, arms crossed over your chest, slouched on the couch and looking at the floor, almost petulant but more… pensive. And that worries him.

“I can— I can stay if you want me to—”

“No,” you answer so casually it’s like something in him shatters. Sure, you’re not always grovelling at his feet when he opens the door but you’ve never been so nonchalant about him leaving to go take care of stuff. Even if it wasn’t all that sincere, you’d still make a little scene out of missing him so much. “I’ll see you later.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly shuts it, pressing his lips into a thin line as he nods, and then sighs.

He can’t leave you alone here: you’ll either run the second you can or hurt yourself trying to figure out how to get the cupboard open again. In both cases he won't be able to keep you safe, you’ll get hurt. But you’re also not yourself right now, and he doesn’t want to come on too strong and risk scaring you off for good. Not that he’d ever let you get away.

So he leaves, locks the door, but doesn’t get in his car. Usually he would grant that you’d be able to see the red flag there but you seem hyper focused on getting to his shit and he surmises he can get away with it. Between the tall plants covering his windows, he can just about make you out, sitting completely still on the couch for a few moments, it’s like you’re not even breathing. He subconsciously finds himself holding his breath as well—Are you waiting for him to start the car? Have you noticed he didn’t take his wallet?—narrowing his eyes at you, trying to anticipate your next move.

60 seconds, and you jump up.

***

You take a very quick look around the lounge, just to really make sure he left, and with no sign of him, you start off down the corridor again to his cupboard. It’s locked, and you know better than to even try to look for the key. But you have to do something: how could you live with yourself knowing that either you’d have broken up with your seemingly perfect boyfriend for no reason at all, or ever feel at peace again when there’s this heavy suspicion just hanging there?

You don’t know how you ever learnt it but you pull a pin from your hair and unfold it, closing one eye and sticking your tongue out slightly as you wriggle it around in the key slot, muttering “Please, please, please, please, please” to yourself over and over as you strain to hear for the clicks. One, two, three clicks and it opens! And you have no idea how you did it but it’s done now. You quickly open the door and gasp. You really shouldn’t be surprised—you know it wasn’t a dream—but the double confirmation really takes the wind out of you, and you feel betrayed. He lied to you, why did he lie to you? But there’s something else you didn’t notice before. On the inside of the door, polaroids of you that you know are before you met him are hung up haphazardly with messy tape—and they’re pictures of you doing mundane tasks, your everyday life. With shaking hands, you reach towards one that you’re afraid is of you in the shower, tears collecting on your lashes. As you reach for it, your elbow hits a shotgun and it falls and fires.

You scream as you jump back, and away from the door, you come face to face with Bucky at the end of the hallway, looking horrified as if it’s you who’s doing what you’re not supposed to.

Why the fuck is this thing even loaded if it’s just sitting around? These are assault rifles and deadly tools just at the ready, all the time.

Bucky carefully calls your name, and you turn on your heel and sprint towards the bedroom door at the opposite end of the corridor, but he catches up to you way too easily. He grabs you and slams your head against the doorway, causing you to black out and fall to the floor.

***

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh fuck! How was he so careless not once but twice? What if you’d gotten seriously hurt or even killed? And he’s mad at himself but he can’t help but feel mad at you, too. Why didn’t you just leave it alone? Sure, he fucked up by forgetting to lock it but why on Earth did you push for it? It was locked this time, why were you so obsessed with this!?

He takes a few deep breaths to stop himself from launching into a panic attack. He can fix this, it’s fine, you just need a bit of time to calm down, but he has a feeling if you took a relationship ‘break’ he’d never find you again. So you can’t leave, you just need to be somewhere safe.

Bucky’s basement is hardly even a room—that’s why he keeps his weapons upstairs, and so that they’re always there when he needs them. It’s small, but big enough for a few shelves and a twin-sized mattress, it’s more a very temporary storm shelter—or a panic room, to a weaker person. There aren’t any windows, and so the thought of getting you situated there for an indefinite amount of time isn’t pleasant. He always gets up before you, and, yes, part of that is nature, and part of it is his awe for your peaceful sleeping form, a level of serenity in darkness he’s not sure he’d ever be able to achieve. The sun peaks in through the curtains and lightly bronzes your skin for a few minutes until you stir and wake up to him beside you, pure adoration in his eyes. And every morning, he knows he’d give up the light of day forever if he could only wake up next to you one more time.

***

You grimace as you wake up, feeling uncomfortable—the room feels somehow cold yet stuffy, and the mattress you’re laying on feels scruffy and a little old. You toss and turn a few times before you realise that this is real. When the thought hits, you rip your eyes open, shooting upright to scan your surroundings while your breathing gets heavier and heavier.

Your eyes land on Bucky sitting at the bottom of the stairs with a book in one hand, his metal one mindlessly twirling a thick chain between his fingers, tightening and loosening it. To test, you tug on your leg and he automatically grips tighter to the restraint, even before noticing you’re up.

“Hey, sweetheart…” he coos, setting his book down and letting go of the chain. He crouches down and sits at the bottom of the mattress, coaxing you with soothing rubs on your shin like you’re a mental patient or a wild animal, unpredictable. “How’re you feeling?”

How are you feeling? How are you feeling?

“Are you out of your mind!?” you shriek, and kick at him—it doesn’t hurt him, but he does raise his palm from your leg. Dropping his voice to a sweeter tone, he tries to calm you down. “You’re alright, you’re safe, everything’s okay, baby.”

He reaches out a hand to stroke your face but you slap it away, looking up at him with wild eyes and messy hair, you let your tone drop to a dangerous low as you warn, “Don’t… touch me.”

He gives a disappointed sigh but eventually tuts to himself in agreement. You just need to get this out of your system, it’ll be fine.

But it’s not. It’s not fine, and it’s taking a toll on him. You’ve never been like this before, so angry and irrational and erratic and unpredictable, but that’s not what he minds. He can deal with you throwing insults his way, swinging at him (in vain, of course) or resorting to silence, but what really starts to tick him off is when you refuse to eat. He let it slide the first day, tried to play it cool and just left the tray down for you, but he went upstairs and nervously paced back and forth until the morning. When he came down with breakfast, he discovered you hadn’t so much as touched your meal, not even the tray itself, and though he asked you in an even tone to eat something (and got nothing but silence in return) it was worrying him, he nearly wanted to plead with you, but he knew if he cracked you’d see a weak spot and keep ramming it until you get your way, and he can’t have that.

It’s the third day now, and he finally decides he needs to feed you. He sits down in front of you and pulls the tray towards him, scooping up some rice on a plastic spoon. He holds the food to your lips but you keep them shut tight, even when he gently pokes your mouth a few times. He’s sure you can see the stress you’re causing him: he’s hardly sleeping, as shown by the bags under his eyes, and he can’t even go for a jog to clear his head in case you do something crazy while he’s gone. With a deep breath, he sets the spoon down and leans back, considering his next move. Maybe you’d drink a smoothie. Not ideal but better than nothing.

“Alright,” he huffs as he stands up. “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna make you a smoothie.”

He’s only just turned his back when he hears clattering, and when he looks back to you, you’ve got fury etched onto your features and the food he so carefully and lovingly prepared for you is strewn across the floor.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” he bellows, and backhands you, sending you to the floor. With your mouth agape, you clutch your cheek and look up at him in shock. He’s never even raised his voice at you, let alone yelled, let alone lay a finger on you. “Just fucking listen to me! Eat!” He kicks the tray further back and you startle, paralysed by pure shock.

He takes a deep breath in, and a long huff out, clenching his fists at his sides. His blue eyes you had once thought of as calm oceans are ablaze, he’s shaking with anger, and his voice quivers as he tries to speak in a level tone to you. “I… am going to make you a smoothie, and you are going to drink it, or you’ll never see the sun again.”

When he slams the door shut behind him, you finally allow tears to fall. You don’t know what that threat means—will he never let you out? Will he kill you? At first you didn’t think so, even when he held you down as you screamed and kicked, but you never thought he’d hit you either, you never thought he was capable of such rage, and though he kept it relatively under control, you saw what that was. It wasn’t just ire, it was like flames licked his entire being, engulfing him and lighting him up. While you thought of him as your Sun, now, that was for a different reason—now, he feels like the actuality of the star: unpredictable and unbearably dangerous, but… necessary for survival, and inescapable.

✪

[my beloved taglist; @cowboysnbugs, @buckys-wintersoldier, @keito-123, @vogueprincess, @cjand10]

[adorerio]

Oh To Be Yours

Suna x reader

older brothers best friends plot! Miya reader! Ending opening for a part 2! Background info for the next part!

word count: 975

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

Growing up having Atsumu and Osamu as your older brothers was definitely interesting. They always kept you on your toes and was funny being around. The bad part? They never let you talk to boys they didnt aprove of. It started in junior high when a guy your age asked to walk you home. Safe to say your brothers scared him off because "he looked to funky"

Things didn't change when you came to Inarizaki High. Your brothers wanted to protect you so they insisted you join the vollyball team so they could keep an eye on you at first you said no wanting to join another club after school. But, after Atsumu gave your parents a multitude of reasons they started pushing you to join and reluctantly you said yes.

͙͘͡★

After school you walked over to the gym it would be your first day as the manager and the coach had suggested your first few days would be observing and getting used to the team. He said they were a well behaved group of kids - minus your brothers and the person who instigated most small arguments Suna Rintaro.

When he told you that the name sounded familair but you just couldn't grasp who the name belonged to. Maybe someone from your junior high? You kept wracking your brain to find an answer while you were so distracted you walked into the door to the gym and landed on your butt due to the impact

great I hope nobody saw tha-

*click*

did someone actually just take a picture??

Turning your head to see whoever the person was you recognized him-

"Hey your the guy that my brothers always bring home right?"

Offering his hand to help get you back on your feet he answered "yeah that's me your y/n Miya. Your brothers talk about you a lot its kinda annoying y'know."

"Im sorry what's your name again?"

"Suna Rintaro"

oh

͙͘͡★

"Ah y/n I see you met Suna"

The coach saw you two walk in toghether in fact- the whole team did talk about awkward. You noticed Atsumu staring daggers into Suna. Who you would assume was a close friend to him. At this rate he's going to tell Suna to never talk to you and your life would be practically over-

"Everyone huddle up! I would like our new manager to introduce herself. Then you guys can as well and we can start the drills."

god damn it

Having all types of eyes on you made you feel nervouse you actually forgot your own name for a second. You tried looking at your brothers but that just made it worse. Until you met eyes with suna again. It felt different. It felt safe. While locking eyes with him you decided to introduce yourself to him. Everyone else was just there.

"Hello everyone my name is Miya Y/N and I'm a first year here. If you cant already tell my brothers are Atsumu and Osamu but believe me I'm the better sibling. My hobbies are *your hobbies* and I love listing to *your favorite musician*.

The rest of the team introduced themselves to you and they included the position they played. Some people stood out more than others. Like Kita who said he was the captain and he even asked if it was okay to call you by your first name since there was now three Miya siblings instead of two. You were fine with it of course.

The last person to introduce himself was Suna. He kept it short really and avoided eye contact during it. It was weird because when you introduced yourself he locked eyes but now that it was his turn he avoided it. Maybe your brothers had already told him off. And if they did you would find out and probably yell at them for scaring away another guy.

After Suna walked away you decided it would be best to forget what happened outside the gym and focus on the team. Of course you studied them but you would help coach with tasks as well. Like filling up the water bottles, getting vollyballs and the coach would ask for your own input like what could have been done better.

Safe to say for your first day it wasn't that bad.

͙͘͡★

Once you got home you grabbed a snack and locked yourself in your room wanting to avoid any questions your brothers wanted to ask. As you approached your desk you reached for one thing in particular your diary. Your parents had bought it for you for your 13th birthday and you still kept it.

Sure your family was very open with each other and you trusted them fully but it was hard to talk to them for certain things and your parents knew that. That's what your diary was for.

"Dear Diary,

today is -------- and was my first day as the manager of the volleyball team. It was a smooth first day with not to much trouble so probably the best part. But, I also met a guy. I mean does it really count as met he's been to the house before but we never talked. If anything all I got was a nod from him. I always thought he was attractive I mean his eyes its like there's something he's always thinking about. There is never a moment he's just blankly staring.

But of course I never thought of the possibility of dating that's not how it goes with two overprotective brothers. I got to talk to him today tho outside with nobody watching. It was embarassing because of that stupid picture he took.

It might be crazy that over this one interaction I'm hoping for something to happen between us. And I'm hoping he's wishing for the same thing

Oh to be yours"

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

AN: well that's a wrap for the first part. Originally it wasn't meant to be a two-parter but I didnt want to rush the ending or make this super long either. The second part will be out once I finish my other wips. Criticism and reqs are always welcome!!

[strawberry-cowmilk]

silly things I think the brothers have done

not proof read, also I did all of the things on these lists so it's kinda like the brothers as things I have done hehe ( I couldn't come up with some stuff for some of them so forgive me for some brothers having shorter or more boring lists)

alternative title: the brothers as real things I have done (I swear I'm not that insane)

-----

lucifer

use whatever the devildom version of red bull is as an 'emergency tool' to quickly stop being tired only when he really needs to (don't do this)

accidentally sent a formal important email to somebody completely unrelated because it was 3am and he wasn't sharp (poor person had no idea what he was talking about) (this still haunts me)

one time when he was at a farm a peacock kept following him and kept opening its feathers to him no matter how many times he walked away

mammon

always buys something one of his brothers or mc will like in a store when he sees it for them

bought expensive perfume and quit his job two seconds afterwards

made the mistake of online shopping while being drunk and then cried over a mini bag and bought it because it would be cute for his future child

accidentally almost burnt down a school chemistry lab because he put a plastic tube over the fire (the teacher warned him not to do that) (everything was fine the tube was just a little on fire it only had like salt water in it)

leviathan

met his favorite artist and accidentally dropped his bags right before the picture in front of said artist (the artist tried to help him but he said nono its okay while fixing the mess) (he dropped the bag 1 second after asking if it was okay to put it down) (this still haunts me I'm so sorry to the artist for having to see me fight a bag)

messed up karaoke one time when he was home alone and destroyed his voice for the next week

attended a vocaloid concert

satan

accidentally made somebody believe he has a child because he calls a cat his baby or his son and forgot to specify he's talking about a cat

saw a cat meow and paw at somebody he didn't know's front door and he felt bad for it so he rang the doorbell and asked the guy who lives there 'is this your cat?' but the cat already went inside (luckily it was his cat or else that would have been super awkward)

cut his own hair once out of protest because somebody kept forcing him to cut it (they never forced him to do anything with his hair again so it worked) (I was like 11 years old when I did this)

asmodeus

wore platform heels while hiking because he refused to wear hiking shoes (those were the only shoes he brought to the vacation too) (there was no room to bring more because he already overpacked)

when somebody was being rude for no reason over his fashion choices he accidentally said 'not my problem you're allergic to slaying' out loud (I said this to my mom I almost died)

packed a full suitcase and a big tote bag for a one night hotel stay (the suitcase had an extra bag in it too)

sent his profs emails telling them he's sick so he can go to his beauty salons (this happened more than once)

beelzebub

traveled to a different city to buy a lot of a specific type of food and then came back

sometimes has to function as an alarm clock for one of his brothers (belphie) because its impossible to wake him up

stays home with his brothers when they're sick so they don't have to be alone

tried to make an oven pizza in the microwave with his brothers because the oven was not working (don't try this) (it turned out literally wet by the way)

belphegor

planned a way to skip certain class times every day without getting in trouble to sleep more

woke up from a nap extremely disoriented and asked someone what his name is

I'm so sorry I tried to come up with more things for him but I can't its been a week of thinking

[yxtubers]

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

matt sturniolo x reader (fluff)

summary: you accidentally reveal to matt’s stream that you’re his s/o

warnings/notes: none (?)

requested?: yes

> > >

Matt had been huddled up in his room all day playing games with Nick and Chris. After being cooped up inside for the first half of the day, the boys had nothing to eat - so you kindly offered to bring them some takeout on your way there.

Chris eventually fled to the living room, bidding goodbye to the stream they began, and leaving Nick and Matt to continue playing in their respective rooms.

Unlocking the door to their apartment you were met with Chris’ excited yelps as he runs towards you. He practically steals the food from your arms and sprints to the kitchen.

“So much for a ‘hello, thank you for feeding me!’” you joke as you hold onto the drinks you bought them. Placing the cans onto the counter, you split the food and give Chris his share.

“Thank you for feeding me!�� he yells behind him as he ran to sit on the couch. Rolling your eyes, you divided Nick, yours, and Matt’s food also. You take your shoes off and leave them in the hallway before walking to Chris and plopping onto the couch next to him. He was watching some American version of ‘Love Island’ that Nick recommended him.

Since it wasn’t of much interest to you, you get up to let him to eat his dinner in peace.

“I’m gonna go bring Matt’s food up - do you mind letting Nick know his is on the counter?” you said.

All you got was a mumble of agreement from him. Deciding that’s as good as you’re gonna get, you take the brown bag of food upstairs. What Chris had forgotten to mention was that Matt was on stream currently. With his camera on.

It’s not that the viewers didn’t know who you were, or that you hated being on camera. However, your relationship with Matt was kept away from the public eye - and you both wanted to keep it that way.

You knock on his door and wait for his response before walking in. He has his headphones on, clicking random buttons and yelling at Nick to heal him.

“I brought you food,” you say as you placed it on his bed, throwing his can of root beer next to it.

“You’re a Godsend, thank you,” he says, turning away from his computer to look at you.

“Hey,” he mumbles upon seeing you, cheeks tinted pink.

You were out of shot, but the viewers recognize your voice in an instant. The chat fills with people speculating why Matt was blushing so hard, and people commenting how cute it was that you bought him dinner.

All of this was completely unbeknownst to you, as you still thought he was just playing with his brother on call.

Matt rolls his chair over to grab his beverage and the bag of takeout. Walking away from him, you look around the room.

“If you’re not too busy can you help me look for my sweater? I think I left it here last night,” you say absentmindedly as you opened his closet.

At this, the comments went crazy.

Matt’s eyes widened. He looks at the screen, and then at you, and then at the chat. The comments were flying in at 120mph, with people typing in all caps.

Various messages were sent from: ‘I knew it!’ to ‘WHAT’ to complete and utter shock and chaos. Matt bursts out laughing as one in particular caught his eye - ‘MOM AND DAD’.

“What’s so funny?” you quip, raising your eyebrow, “you want your girlfriend to freeze to death?”

At this point there was no going back. No way in hell was there a way to cover that up.

Matt guilty looks up at you, gesturing to the screen.

“I’m live,” he says plainly.

“Oh.”

He holds his hand out to you and you take it, moving into the camera’s view. You wave.

“Hi guys!”

You look over at the chat and you’re surprised to see many supportive comments. ‘This is so cute’ - ‘Dying rn’ - ‘We knew’. Your face turns hot as you look down at your boyfriend, completely bewildered.

“I’m sorry I forgot to tell you,” Matt whispers.

You shake your head, kissing the top of his hair. “It’s okay, they were bound to find out soon enough.”

And with that, you say goodbye to the stream and sneak back downstairs to bring Nick his food; you knew Chris would forget to.

The rest of the stream was filled with Nick telling the comments to get over themselves, and Matt blushing each time your name was mentioned.

Maybe being public wouldn’t be so bad.

- - -

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@lollibumblebee

@dwntwn-strnlo

@gracietaylorsversions

@20nugs

@thetriplets3

@stxrniqlo

@sunshinewwx

@gwenlore

@gabbylovesreading

@ssturniolo

@opheliaofficial07

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Anyone’s little toy - Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader

Warnings: A tiny bit of degradation, nothing too bad, fem!receiving oral. That’s it really (?)

Type: Blurb

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Billy finds out readers lack of sexual experience.

Notes: This was originally for Jason Todd but maybe it fits Billy more? Idk shut up. Not proofread, I just needed to get this off my mind 😵‍💫 send ideas, specifically Jason Todd and Steve Roger’s in particular.

You don’t remember how the topic was brought up, all you knew was that you were sitting on Billy’s couch, your back pressed against the cushion as he interrogated you.

There had been an awful amount of sexual tension between you two. Neither of you admitted anything to the other. You were too intimidated to bring anything up to him. You were happy with coming by to hang out with him when he called, talking about his day, your day, ordering food, playing games or watching TV. Sometimes when boredom hit, you even made out, but that was always as far as it went and it wasn’t always.

You couldn’t help but fantasize about it going further, about how he would feel, what he would look like. The closest you got was sitting on his lip with his hands having an ungodly grip on your hips. His kissing always kept you from this world, you forgot everything when Billy Loomis’s spit was in your mouth.

“What is it? Have you ever been touched?” Billy asked in a bitter tone. You were both grown, grown enough to have your own experiences, god knows he had his share. You never confused in him your lack of experience.

“Um” your cheeks flushed red, adamantly avoiding his eyes, they were practically prying into you. The spotlight was on you this whole time, yet it felt like you were on a disgusting display before him.

“Yeah of course I have” you lied. Your eyes still staring at the wall behind him, a frown present on your face in hopes of disguising your truth.

It was nothing to be embarrassed about, but you were ashamed to have a pathetically stupid amount of experience in the sexual aspect of your life.

Billy stared you down like if he was about to devour you, his frown activated across his face, head tilting to the side as he tried to match his eyes with you. “I don’t know, you’re such a sweet baby. I don’t think you’ve ever been anyone’s little toy.. am I right? I could be underestimating you.”

He almost spat out the questions, there was a tinge of jealousy, again, even if you were grown he still had a piece of hope that he could be the only one to see you sprawled out and chanting his name like if he’d show you a small gesture of mercy.

His breath felt hot against your cheek, his tongue peaked out to press against your skin. Your breathing fastened, your legs clenched together in hopes of getting some feeling of relief.

He was eating this up, overly proud of the position he had you in. “Sweet little princess, why aren’t you looking at me? Are you hiding something?” He teased, what an ass. You tucked your bottom lip into your mouth, your eyes refusing to look at his directly as if you could pull one over on him.

Your skirt folded into itself as you kept yourself from getting too close to him, he never went this far and you never went this far, with anyone actually. The embarrassment alone was going to set you off in tears, this was humiliating in the sweetest way.

“N-no im not hiding anything.” You spoke up, barely.

Your squirming was a delicacy to the mercenary. His eyes were prying into your movements, watching you get uneasy. He wanted to tear you apart right then and there. He was only ashamed it took him this long, but there was a long thought process behind his actions.

“I don’t know Y/N. Somethin’s telling me you’re lying to me.” He sung, his head shaking sideways ever so slightly.

It was then his head dipped down to the side of your head, pressing a wet kiss on your cheek, slowly pulling away to watch your reaction. You were as pressed back as you could be in hopes of hiding without actually hiding. You had to check yourself to see if you were still breathing, what the hell was so shameful about this?

“Billy.” You breathed out, his face in front of yours, he slowly knelt down, hands reaching out to your thighs. He would never admit it now, but he could practically smell your arousal. Billy’s hands gripped onto you gently, the outline of his body completely covered you. He was intimidating as much as he was mouth watering.

“Mmm?” He whispered as his hands soothed your thighs gently, his eyes finally dropped down to your figure. Your panties peaked out to him, causing his eyes to focus on your lower part instead. Billy’s thumbs maneuvered to the ends of your skirt, flipping the seam to push back closer to your hips, exposing more of your body to him. He did it so slow, enough to where you could stop him if you needed to, but you didn’t want to.

You were nervous, shy, but you wanted to feel his tough more than anything.

“N-nothing. I just haven’t-“ you frowned again this time dropping your legs onto the couch slowly, sitting up in unison as your eyes finally turned to him. “I’ve never, you know. Really been with anyone. I trust you, I just-“ and there it came, the realization of what you just admitted.

Billy looked up at you, instead of pulling back, his eyes seemed to almost turn a shade darker, turning from your face, back down to your figure. “You’ve never been touched?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for your response, still unclear with what you were trying to tell him.

“No, I mean I have I just. I’ve never gone all the way, I don’t know what to do.” You admitted without thinking, you absentmindedly pulled away from him and shifted yourself closer to the couch.

“Do you want to do anything with me?” His voice cracked the small silence between you both. You felt the redness approaching your face again, you only answered with a wordless nod. In return, the devious smile made its way back to his drying lips.

“Just tell me if it’s too far” he warned you as his head dipped down again into your thighs, he warmed you back up with wet kisses across your sensitive skin, nipping and sucking at he warm pieces. Your legs responded in shifts, his hands then trailed again to your soft legs, moving them over his shoulder as he pushed his head further up to your core.

There was a change in his ache for you, again, maybe he won’t admit it now but the thought of making you feel good, to be the only one to taste you and leave you scratching at his back when you can’t take it anymore, all the sinful ideas plagued his mind. The fantasy of it all awoke something primal in him, the more the idea saturated his mind, the more desperate he got.

His hands ran up to your hips, pulling you as close as he could to his face, his arms hooked around the bottom for your thighs to hold you in place, his fingers pushed your underwear aside, enough to give him some space to work, he flattened his tongue against your slick folds, causing your head to fall back at the intrusion.

You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. Billy restricted your legs as his mouth opened and sucked into your clit. A gasp escaped your lips at the obscenity of his movements, you never felt anything like it, your legs rubbed against the sides of his head as his mouth moved more desperately by the second.

“Billy-” you whimpered out as his tongue swirled around your opening, your pink cotton panties were in the way of the whole experience but he was too mesmerized by your taste to get away from your pussy for even a second. Your thighs clenched every time he hit a sweet spot, he was careful not to overstimulate you too fast, he was going to try to get you as wet as possible before he fucked you.

His tongue flattened then pierced your hole, feeling the tip of his tongue pushed out by your body, taking turns exploring your folds.

Your head fell back again, feeling nothing but the warm wet spit invade your sensitive slick. Between laps along your cunt he’d pull back to mumble sweet obscenities, the hoods of his eyes dripping down in sweet bliss as he tasted your juices. “Good girl, you’re doing so good.” He praised as he felt your legs squeeze his head again when the pressure was too strong.

You didn’t know what feeling you were chasing, all you knew was that it felt like you could stay here all day, little parts his tongue would swipe made you jolt, you could almost fall asleep in ecstasy.

It wasn’t long until Billy noticed your comfortability, causing him to start lapping at your clit, his left hand pulled apart your folds while the other pulled your underwear aside. Your body sure felt the pressure now, you twisted your lower half without thinking to get away from his tongue.

Billy’s fingers let go of your panties and his index finger made circles against your clit, causing your body to flinch and little moans to escape your salivating mouth. His finger then prodded into you slowly before then just shoving itself as far as he could. His eyes wouldn’t let you go as you squirmed and mumbled out incoherent moans.

“You look so cute when you have something in you.” He muttered, watching you flinch and curl your body forward as he added another finger. You whimpered as he kept the pace, his eyes half closed with lust as you panted at his impatience to use you up.

His fingers moved in a scissoring motion, causing you to squirm again, this time moaning a little louder. “Maybe I do believe you haven’t been played with. I haven’t even started and I know you’re going to cream all over my fingers soon” he hissed.

You pouted, your lustful eyes gleaming down to him, you would have something smart to say if Billy wasn’t rubbing his hands all over your cunt, talking to you like you were a stupid girl chasing a high. His fingers rammed in and out of you in a steady pace, his palm ever so slightly pushing against your clit with every thrusting motion. You felt your body involuntarily clench.

Billy slowly stood to his feet, his hands never stopping or halting in the process. He needed to see you cum more than anything right now, more than you needed to feel it.

“God if you could see yourself right now. You look so pretty.” He whined out as he looked down to you, you looked back at him, with a more prominent frown and an ache in your core. Your hips began to shift as he kept his pace, his left hand made its way up to swipe his thumb across your bottom lip.

“So fucking pretty. Maybe next time I’ll bust a load on your face play with your pretty little cunt and get a picture. What do you say?”

You were wordless, before you could even get the chance to answer he curled his fingers, finding your gspot took him a little longer but when he felt your pussy clench around him he kept prying. You closed your eyes in despair to keep your climax going, bucking your hips as he kept fucking you with his fingers. “Good fucking princess. You look so fucking pretty, fuck.” He moaned, desperate to toss you around, fill you to the brim, he knew better than to go crazy with you so fast, but it wasn’t like he had enough self control to take it slow.

Your body jolted involuntarily, your eyes squeezed shut as you cried out in pleasure. All those sweet noises for him to hear alone were enough to send him over the edge. This was going to be a long night.

[sandorswhore]

don’t you dare

summary: you were a little shit all day, chris gets fed up.

warnings: brat!reader, dom!chris, bdsm type relationship kinda, face fucking, kinda intense but not super crazy

“go put on real clothes before matt and nick get home”

chris was doing the dishes from breakfast, i was sitting on the couch in just one of his tshirts and my panties, since it was just the two of us home at the moment.

“no” i spat back quickly, not taking my eyes off my phone.

“no?” he seemed genuinely shocked by my response.

“you heard me”

“go get dressed, now”

“but i’m comfyyyyy” i whined.

“i won’t tell you again. go” he pointed toward the stairs.

i threw my phone down on the couch before getting up and stomping downstairs. when i got to our room i slammed the door, a little harder than i meant to but whatever, it served its purpose.

i looked for something to wear and decided on some short athletic shorts and a tight crop top. i chose to wear a bra so i wouldn’t get actually murdered.

i walked back upstairs and made my way over to the couch. chris looked up at me when he heard me approaching. i met his eyes briefly before he looked away, huffing and shaking his head.

❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎

“baby can you bring me a pepsi?”

i had gotten up to go to the bathroom and after i walked out i heard chris call out.

“sure” i said back, loud enough for him to hear me.

i walked into the kitchen and grabbed a can from the fridge, also grabbing myself a water. i left the pepsi on the counter, and walked back to the couch.

i could feel chris’ eyes on me as i sat down, placing my water on the coffee table and taking out my phone. i turned to look at him.

“what?” my attitude definitely came out in my voice, i could tell when his gaze changed.

“pepsi?” he asked, trying to be patient in case i actually did forget.

“oh yeah, i forgot” i quickly went back to my phone but i could still feel him staring at me. he finally turned away, lifting himself off the couch with a huff.

❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎

chris was sat at his pc while i laid on our bed. he needed to do some boring work thing, meaning i was getting no attention. i sighed as loud and as dramatically as i could, determined to get his attention but he didn’t even flinch.

“chris” i said, very monotone and at my regular volume. he either didn’t hear me or he was ignoring me.

“chrisss” i whined, a bit louder this time.

“hm?” he mumbled without turning his head.

“i’m bored” he didn’t respond. i got up from the bed and walked to his desk, leaning over his shoulder and licking a stripe up his neck to his ear. he stayed silent.

“did you hear me?”

“yes baby, i heard you. i promise i will give you attention as soon as i’m done.” he said, finally facing me.

“but i need attention nowww”

“the sooner i get this done, the sooner i can give you attention. now go sit back down and be quiet”

“whatever” i replied with such a dramatic attitude, i could practically hear him rolling his eyes. i flopped back on the bed, pulling out my phone and going on tiktok, purposely turning the volume up.

“turn that down” he said sternly.

“or what?” he spun around in his chair.

“turn it down, now” i tried to hold his stare but he ultimately won, i mean how could you disobey those eyes? i rolled my eyes, turning my phone down and rolling over so i was facing away from him.

❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎

we had all ordered a pizza and were sitting on the couch eating. i was being purposefully loud, nick was enjoying it while matt just kind of smiled to himself. the only one i was really annoying, was chris. he kept giving me looks

“y/n” i turned to him, “lower your voice”

i stuck my tongue out at him before turning back to nick. i could feel his eyes burning a hole through the back of my skull.

nick was very aware of our dynamic, being my best friend and all, so he shot me a look. i just shrugged and continued eating, getting back into my conversation, lowering my voice just a bit.

“fucking brat”

❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎

after dinner we decided to watch a movie, something none of us had seen before. we all got comfortable, chris and i on the chaise of the couch, nick laying on the main part and matt on another couch perpendicular to ours.

i cuddled into chris, even if he was pissed at me he never denied cuddles. he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close.

at this point, i was frustrated. i had been such a little shit all day, why hasn’t he fucked me? or teased me at least. i noticed his hand over my shoulder and decided to bite it. not hard, just enough to get his attention. he pulled his hand away and flicked my ear, i just cuddled back into him as if nothing happened.

but i got bored again. i placed my hand on his thigh, far away enough from his crotch that it could be seen as innocent. i slowly inched my way toward the inside of his thigh before just placing my palm over his dick through his pants. he grabbed my hand and looked at me. i couldn’t contain my smirk, he was just so easy to get riled up.

chris stood up, his hand still wrapped around my wrist though the grip was tighter. he pulled me up off the couch and towards our room.

“we’re going to bed, goodnight guys”

“night” nick and matt replied at the same time, giving each other a look.

❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎

chris harshly pulled me into his room and shut the door. he let go of me and i stood in front of the door.

“i wanted to finish the movie” i whined, knowing that i didn’t give two shits about the movie.

“so did i” he walked towards me, forcing my back against the door, “but i couldn’t because you were being a fucking brat” he spat, words soaked with venom.

“you’ve been a brat all day”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about”

he wrapped his hand around my throat, pinning me up against the door.

“you sure about that? you weren’t acting like a little bitch all day to get daddy worked up?”

i just stared at him, even if i had something to say i wouldn’t be able to get it out.

“i asked you a question slut” he tightened his grip on my neck.

“jus wanted to tease you a bit, that’s all…” my words trailed off.

he pulled me over to our bed, his grasp on my neck still firm. he pulled my face close to his after he sat on the edge.

“strip” he commanded, letting go of my neck.

i quickly pulled off all my clothes, minus my panties, he always wanted me to keep them on.

“on your knees” his tone wasn’t angry, but stern enough to make me think twice about disobeying.

i sat in front of him, on my knees with my posture straight. chris hated when i slouched. he leaned back, resting his hands on the bed behind him. i took this as an invitation, well, more of a command i guess.

i moved my hands to the waist band of his pants, slowly, in case i had misread his cues. hooking my fingers around them and his boxers, i pulled them both down, chris lifting his hips slightly so i could take them all the way off. his cock was red and angry, precum covering the tip. i went in immediately, desperate to taste him, to make him feel good.

i was interrupted by his hand in my hair, harshly pulling me back. i looked up at him, slightly confused.

“only good girls get to suck daddy’s cock, whores get their face fucked” i pouted a bit, not intentionally. i didn’t love face fucking, but chris did and i knew full well that it was a possibility when i started my act this morning.

“don’t you dare pout,” he tightened his grip on my hair, making me gasp, “you know what happens when you act like a brat”

i tried to wipe the pout off my face, hiding my disappointment that i wouldn’t get to suck him off but i should’ve known better.

“open” i opened my mouth wide and stuck my tongue out. chris stood up off the bed, slowly pushing himself into me. he kept his grip on my hair and put his other hand under my chin so he had full control over my head. he started slow, knowing that this wasn’t my favorite thing and even though he had to punish me, he didn’t want to hurt me.

the thing is, he’s just so fucking thick. when i’m sucking him off i can take my time, i have no issue taking all of him, but he’s so thick that i literally have to stretch my mouth out. so when he fucks my face, i don’t have time to get used to it and my mouth gets tired.

his thrusts got harder, sharper. i looked up at him as best i could, his head was thrown back, hair sticking to his forehead and his eyes closed. i wish i could have this image of him tattooed on the inside of my eyelids.

he must’ve felt me staring, snapping his neck down and smirking at me.

“such an obedient little whore. i knew you couldn’t keep your act up forever, just needed daddy to make you desperate enough”

i groaned around him. he knew me so well, inside and out.

“fuck you’re gonna make daddy cum baby” he praised, unable to help himself, “and you’re going to swallow all of it, you don’t wanna know what’ll happen if you don’t”

i did kind of want to know but the thought of swallowing all his cum was too appealing. i moaned around him, letting him know i understood. he groaned at the vibrations and after a few more thrusts i felt him shoot his warm load to the back of my throat.

i took it down easily, loving the taste of him. i stuck my tongue out, showing him that i listened. he grabbed my jaw and smacked me lightly.

“my perfect slut” chris reached his hands out to me, helping me up off the floor before pushing me back on the bed. i looked at him confused, he met my eyes and looked down. i followed and was faced with his still hard cock. i must’ve really worked him up.

he moved his hands down my stomach coming to the waistband of my panties, a dark spot covering my core. he pulled them down my legs, discarding them somewhere in the room.

“i’m not done with you, hands and knees”

this wasn’t a punishment for me anymore, i loved doggy, feeling his chest against my back, his hands in my hair or around my throat and his balls slapping my clit, god it was just the perfect position.

chris positioned himself at my entrance, his grip on my hips light as he sunk the tip of his dick in me. he did that a few more times, hands on my hips barely touching me.

he ran his hand up my spine, ghosting my skin, with only the first inch of his cock inside me. grabbing my hair, he slammed into me, giving me no time to adjust to his girth before pulling out and pushing back in harder, if that was even possible. i screamed, the pain to pleasure ratio too high.

“fuck so good daddy” i yelled as best i could, it came out as more of a squawk.

“yeah you like how hard daddy is with you?” he pulled tighter on my hair, “how worked up i get when you act like a little bitch,” slapped my ass, “you belong to me” then the other side.

“you are fucking mine, you obey me, listen to my orders”

“hnngggg daddy please”

“say it” i stayed silent “say. it.” he spat into my ear, making me jump.

“i’m yours, fuck i-i’m all yours”

“and so you don’t fucking forget it, i’m gonna pump my cum so far into you it’ll never come out”

“god please PLEASE fuck n-need it please daddy”

“love when you beg me like a good slut. do it some more baby, tell daddy how much you want it”

“FUCK daddy please god i need it so bad”

he grunts.

“daddy please please please i’ll be good i promise, please” i was practically sobbing, begging him to fill me up. i knew he’d hold this against me, next time i’m feeling bratty, more likely tomorrow morning.

“good girl baby, so good for me, just needed to be fucked good. that’s all, right?”

“yes fuck daddy cummmming” was all i managed to get out.

“yes baby, let go, been so good for me”

and just as soon as he told me to let go, he did too. i felt his hot cum paint my walls and i saw stars, i let out the most ungodly noise. you could probably hear it at the wendy’s down the street.

chris continued to pump into me, keeping his promise and fucking his cum so far inside me it was never coming out. he collapsed on top of me before rolling us over on our sides. i thought about trying to move away, get him out of me but i was so tired, and i love having him inside me.

“i think you should have to sleep with my cock and cum inside you” i could hear the smirk on his face. i just pulled him closer, as tight as i could, which apparently wasn’t very hard because he laughed at me and pulled me farther into his arms. i could feel his cum move around inside me as he kissed the top of my head.

“fuckin brat”

a/n- i really really really like this it was so fun to write i hope yall enjoy

[katerinaaqu]

Guard Dog (a Patroclus and his dogs one-shot)

The Phrygian was really nervous. He could almost hear his heart beating up against the skin of his throat. His breath was coming out in hisses even if he was trying his best not to forget his training as a tracker and a spy for his people. It wasn't that he was a first-timer. He had been through some dangerous missions before and one required more skill than the other; he had once tracked the path of a deer outside a bear's den until the animal was captured by his fellow hunters. He was sent to spy close to an opposing tribe before and he had managed to come back with useful information that allowed his clan to come on top in that battle. He had contributed to that war even; collecting information on the enemy and he was undetected by everyone. However he was definitely scared out of his wits that night because that night's mission topped them all...by far!

He was supposed to sneak on the Strongest of all the Greeks...

Achilles the son of Peleus himself!

The Phrygian had heard many rumors on that man and all more terrible than the other. They said he had the strength of twenty men like Heracles himself. They said that he was faster than God Hermes himself while others said that the Argophontes had even given him his Winged sandals to fly faster. Fast in Feet they called him and strong like Apollo and with the same youth and glory. He heard rumors that he could kill you just by locking eyes with you...he even heard he was invulnerable by any kind of weapon; no one ever managed to wound him. The young Phrygian was considering himself intelligent enough not to pay attention to all those rumors but if just one of them were true then his life was hanging by a very thin and not to mention very fragile thread. Either way he had taken his precautions.

The assassination should be fast and precise.

He even forgot the idea of a knife for obvious reasons. Even if the rumors of his vulnerability held no truth whatsoever, he knew that he had no way of slitting the throat of a man who managed to singlehandedly bring an army to its knees. The game was dangerous. So he had prepared himself the poison he knew well. One drop in the wine by his side, the one he knew he kept, would do the job. He was sure that Achilles was not immortal. That much he knew. He also heard the rumor; that he was destined to die young. Perhaps fate had come to its toll that night. He spotted the dark figure of the tent the prince of Myrmindons was sleeping in. His steps became more careful; even more soundless. He had to be careful now. He knew the demigod was heavily guarded and that the guards would slash him in half without asking questions. But he knew. He knew a secret path behind the tent. He would take that. He would sneak in, pour the poison and run. No more stalling and no unpredictable moves!

He made a turn around avoiding the gaze of a guard skillfully and hid in the shadow of the tent. He estimated the slave with the duty to sleep by the ruler to protect him, wouldn't be much of a problem to him to be silenced but he hoped things wouldn't get rough. He had to make sure nothing would disturb the sleep of the son of Peleus before he had made his move. He hesitated for one second. What if he awoke? What if he wasn't sleeping yet and the calm breathing from the tent was a decoy? What if he was detected? He drew a breath and calmed himself. No more thoughts. He had to empty his mind. He had to do it. But once he was about to barge in as quietly as possible he heard something that drew five years out of his body. It was a human voice.

"If I were you, I would think twice before I did that!"

The soft and yet threatening tenor voice made him look at the shadows to detect the tall and lean figure. The man had long curly hair and arms that looked like good stretched leather. His back could belong to the best type of athlete and his bare legs showed a man that could run a marathon in the wilderness without problem. He was dressed with a simple cloth around his waist, showing he had just risen from sleep. The Phrygian spy gulped soundly realizing that this scenario he didn't think; the scenario that it would be no slave by the side of the son of Peleus!

"I am sure you thought you would achieve something tonight" Patroclus continued in his calm and yet deeply threatening voice, "but I assure you your efforts would be in vain! Even if you did manage to get past me there is no way that you would win against him no matter what ploy and scheme you have in your barbarian brain but I promise you by Hera that you won't achieve it!"

The man took a step back drawing his dagger. The man they called "divine" didn't look so divine at all and yet somehow he knew he was a forced to be reckoned with. Patroclus followed the move and his brown eyes shone like a jackal in the night.

"I wouldn't want to disturb my lord's sleep so I would strongly advise you not to come at me with threatening force"

The Phrygian stopped again. How could he run away now? How could he go back a coward and a failure? How could he explain to his clan that he backed away not by the threat itself but by his companion? He clenched upon his dagger; move not passing undetected by the son of Menoetius.

"I tried to warn you but you leave me no choice!"

He left a tiny and discreet whistle with his slightly decorated with the beginning of a beard lips. The Phrygian felt all his blood being pumped up with several miles per second as he heard the unworldly growl from the shadows. Several pairs of eyes glistered like coals within the night and soon enough the silhouettes dressed in fur emerged. Hounds. Hounds of all shapes and sizes capable of tearing grown boars to shreds with their teeth; teeth that were now bared and glistering with saliva, emerged beneath the drawn lips and the wrinkled noses. They all circled their master, plastering their eyes on him.

"I know you have your reasons, I'm sure" Patroclus whispered

He caressed the head of one of his dogs as it's pointy ears didn't even flinch and the threatening posture of the huge hound didn't change.

"I know you fear him and for a good reason but he is my cousin, my king, my brother, my lord and my soul! You shall not lay a finger on him while I am here and breathing!"

The spy gulped. He realized then that Patroclus was a pure mirror of his dogs; he barely made a sound; he was truly past the point of empty threats. He had crossed the line! He thought that Achilles was something to fear but now seeing that warrior standing like a guard dog and a head of a pack before the tent he realized a bit too late how wrong he was!

"You shall pay for your thoughts to harm him with your life!" Patroclus almost growled

His eyes looked at him; staring just like his Hounds that shivered from top to bottom in anticipation for the orders. They wanted to hunt and he was the prey!

"However..." his heart flattered with hope with that word, "if the gods are merciful they shall give you a chance to escape..."

Then those fierce eyes stuck within his. The Phrygian felt his previously racing heart stop.

"...IF you can run faster that is!"

"G-Gods...!" Was the first and last word the Phrygian uttered that nigt

Patroclus leaned forward caressing two of his loyal dogs.

"Get him!" He softly commanded

And without making a single sound, nine dogs pounced. The Phrygian could only shriek in terror as he broke into a run within the Achaean camp with the dogs coming behind him. Soon lights emerged as soldiers kings and slaves emerged to see what was going on as the shrieks of terror turned into screams of pain. Patroclus stood there looking at that direction before calmly entering the tent.

Upon the mattress he perceived the lean blonde figure and he smiled. All his previous anger and fury was gone; turned into tenderness. He slowly approached the shifting figure. Achilles hummed and stretched his bare body under the covers; every muscle tight against his pale skin. He was glistering like gold under the new light of the torches outside. His face thin and hairless like a woman's and a body strong and athletic like a man. Patroclus would agree with some of the rumors that reach even his eaes; he really DID look like Apollo this way.

"Hmm..." Achilles hummed, "what is it?"

"Nothing, my dear" Patroclus whispered, "go back to sleep."

"I hear voices outside..."

"My dogs just discovered a rat" the son of Menoetius replied once more, "they rose quite a commotion"

"Hmm...I see..."

Achilles stretched some more as Patroclus fixed the covers better around him. He smiled. Yes, he would protect that man from every cowardly attack they would send against him! He deserved better than having his destiny fulfilled in such a way! He would keep him alive for as long as possible! And if his life was the price of that so be it!

"Come to bed with me, darling..." Achilles whispered as he caressed his chest with his stretched arm, "I'm cold and I need you to help me..."

Patroclus snorted.

"Sheesh!" He whispered just like when they were kids, "you are incorrigible! You always act like a child!"

And yet he obeyed. He couldn't and didn't want to say no. He slowly tucked himself under the covers and allowed Achilles to rest his blonde head on his chest; his lean and muscular arms around him. He felt the man who was his other half nuzzle against the light layer of hair on his chest. He caressed that blonde head with his hand.

"Yes...rest well..." he whispered, "I am here...nothing will disturb you while I am here..."

***

Sooooo a little random thing I made. Given how I had made a post in the past about Patroclus's dogs here I thought I should write something on them!

I also wanted to show a more powerful and maybe vicious side of Patroclus given how we do not see it much and I cannot write a full battle scene without my computer dammit! But I hope you like thus, given how I wrote it in a few minutes in one go so forgive me if it is too simple or messy. Plus is past midnight hehehe sorry if this is so-so.

As always I remember some conversations with @deadbaguette about Achilles and Patroclus and their relationship as well as @ellilyre and @hermesmoly and of course @smokey07

As always wanna thank my dear friend @artsofmetamoor keep going with the amazing art girl!

My Patroclus design:

My other fic mentioning Patroclus:

[drefear]

Hail to the King (prologue)

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs.

The restaurant was on 5th Avenue, between Gucci and Balenciaga. Miguel stepped out of his SUV and buttoned the suit jacket he had on, glancing around at the glittering lights of the street, identifying certain faces he knew and familiarizing the ones he didn’t. Walking into the restaurant, he glanced at security at the front and they just nodded at him as he walked in towards the hostess stand. The girl looked up at the 6’9 man, intimidated as she kept her eyes down once she realized who he was, and led him to a table towards the back.

This was a normal night for him once a month, taking a specific meeting here to discuss imports and exports to the city and the competition of the other families.

Miguel O’Hara was a name that many feared in this city, The head of the O’Hara family, a facade for the mafia that ran Nueva York, he was in charge of most organized crime within the metropolitan area and some of the biggest drug trafficking rings within the state. Being a mafia boss aside, the man was huge. His hand could wrap around an average man’s throat and crush it without flexing more than his hand.

He walked to his table without really needing to be led, the girl placing the menus down and walking away without a word. He sat and spread his legs a bit, leaning one elbow on the table and thinking quietly. Another presence made him stand and reach forward, shaking the man’s hand.

“Nice to see you again.” He spoke and sat with the man, talking about some business.

You were new. Very new. Your second night. You’d just moved to the city to become a writer, loving the scenery and hustle of the lives here. Visiting when you were young was always the best feeling, your parents showing you around and bringing you around to see the staples of Nueva York.

You had just finished serving another table for a lovely couple visiting the city as you saw someone get seated in your section. Walking towards the table with a skip in your step, you smiled at the two men and waved. “Hello! I’ll be your server tonight, how about we get started with-”

“Where’s Gwen?” Miguel glared at you as he raised a brow, as if you’d disrespected him in some way.

“Oh, uh. She’s not working tonight.” You added, intimidated.

“I only order from Gwen.” He deadpanned as you scrunch your nose in confusion. “Go get Peter.” He demanded, to which you began to boil a bit. How dare he speak to you like this? Yes, this was a very high end restaurant, but no one was allowed to treat you so terribly, to speak down to you. Your mother taught you never to accept that type of behavior.

“I don’t think I will.” You answered, with the same insulting tone he did, the man sitting across him staring at you with wide eyes. “At least, until you learn to speak to me correctly.”

“Do you know who I am?” He hissed, eyes boring into you and standing in front of you with a towering stature, but you didn’t care. Big or small, no one got to demean you.

“No, and frankly, I don’t care. I don’t give a shit enough about a 15 dollar tip to tolerate your rudeness. Learn how to speak to people before you walk around like some bigshot.” You leaned up towards him, eyes narrowed with anger that mirrored his.

Someone rushed in between the two of you and placed a hand on both of your shoulders. “Hey! Miguel, hi, how are you? I forgot to tell you that Gwen wasn’t feeling well today and called out sick. Hopefully, our new little beauty will suffice.” Peter, your manager, spoke with a friendliness in his voice, a familiarity he must have had with Miguel.

The hulking man stood up straighter, still looking down at you with a snarl still evident on his face. “She won’t be working here anymore.” He spoke in a cool tone, as if just asking about the weather. Your jaw dropped and you glanced between him and Peter.

“You can’t- I don’t-” You stuttered in disbelief and watched him unbutton his suit jacket, taking it off. “How dare you?” You got louder now, calling attention from the few hidden tables beside you.

“You have a disregard for who someone is, and you have no patience for others who try to put you in your place.” He announced, ignoring your angry chatter. “You start to work for me right now.”

“What?” You and Peter gawked as he sat back down and handed you his coat.

“I do not work for you.” You growled with hatred dripping from your lips.

“Well, you don’t have another job anymore, isn't that right, Peter?” He flashed a look of Warning to Peter and he looked between you two before giving you an apologetic smile. “Glad that’s understood. Go wait in the car and I’ll be out in ten minutes to take you home and give you your new assignments for tomorrow.” he waved you off and everything in your being shook with rage. You removed your apron and threw it at the large man.

“Fuck you!” You shouted before exiting the building.

Chapter 1

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[ghiblinsm]

cannon list

first movie:

Wade doesn't actually know anything that really happened to you in the workshop, just bits and pieces that were hinted by Francis.

“You have to live with the shitty thing you did for the rest of your life.”

you love your dad, really you do. but you will always have a bit of resentment for what he signed you up for.

"It doesn't get better, and it doesn't get easier. I can't keep lying to myself,"

during the months you were being injected fluids in your blood, Austin had kept asking his mom to call Wade and see what happened.

“Yo, this is Wade. I’m either out doing mercenary stuff, getting into trouble, or just avoiding your call. Leave a message. Beep”

Anytime Wade sees you with clothes that show your arms and legs, he always thinks about how the scars on your skin were caused by him. (not s.h scars but thunder like scars caused by other types of torture)

“Who knew that bringing my daughter to a workshop full of dangerous crap would be a bad idea? Genius move, Wade. Just chalk it up to another day of being a fantastic father.”

He's never brought it up but sometimes he notices you looking in the mirror a little longer then usual then sees you later in a new outfit of pants or leggings and a long sleeve or cardigan.

"I can't stand to look at my scars, every time I look at them, I'm reminded at what happened. How he failed to protect me and i don't want to hold that against him..."

More often then you two both like to admit, you both make a bunch of self-deprecating jokes about being a bad father/daughter.

Wade: "You know, sweetheart, I always thought I'd be a great dad… but I guess I took 'daddy issues' to a whole new level, huh? Can I put that on my résumé?"

You: "At least you made the list. I didn’t even make it onto the ‘good daughter’ list. I’m just the bonus kid with the emotional baggage. You’d think I’d be on sale by now."

second movie:

When you first met Russell you could only think about how scary it must've been for him to be surrounded by people trying to say they knew how he felt.

"You’re a mess, Russell. But I took responsibility for your actions, and I can’t just leave you."

when you were put in the ice box prison you kind of gave up, just like you father. except since you saw how much Russell was trying you decided to at least help him not get beat up.

"I’ve spent my whole life trying to do what’s best for everyone else. I forgot to take care of myself."

during the whole ordeal your heart and mind were in-between resentment and pity for your dad. he was acting like the world stopped when vanessa was shot when it didn't. you still feel bad for feeling this way.

"The only way to get through the day is to keep pushing forward, even if it feels like you’re dragging the weight of the world."

a secret you didn't even tell your dad was that when most of the x force died you giggled and sent a video to Austin.

"I'm sorry for your loss...*later* Austin i need to laugh so fricking badly but i can't because i'm with colossus. what do i do?"

Wade's a little disappointed in himself for this one but, when you all were in the ice box prison and he saw you trying to keep Russell out of shit, he thought he could leave Russell in your hands and stay out of everything, despite more prisoners getting violent.

"I want to be the person who helps people. I want to be the person who can make a difference. But I don’t know how."

Third movie

the day Wade tried to join the avengers you were chilling with Austin who was on the phone with Peter and somehow interviews came up in discussion and you heard Peter ask Austin how common alliterative names were because Happy was talking about a disrespectful guy that came in for an interview and had a 'dumb' name.

"I’m just a guy who loves a good time. Who cares about the rest?"

when nicepool led y'all to his honda, you were thinking back to peter's situation with two other spiderman and when wolverine and your dad were in the car you couldn't help but ask nicepool how his y/n was.

"You can’t change the past. You can only learn from it and hope that you don’t repeat the same mistakes."

you were friends with laura for a short while at the age of 11 and when you two met again in the void you both immediately did y'all's handshake out of instinct.

“Life is short! So we should spend it having fun and making memories!”

couldn't really think of more stuff for the third movie that would involve spoiling stuff I have planned so it was cut short.

hope y'all liked it!

"Well everyone loves me" by Rizzy105 on wattpad

[12boogaloo]

Okay, I cant take it anymore. The brain rot is REAL

Been on a writing hiatus since 2019 or 2020 (I honestly don’t remember so don’t @ me)

And what gets me to finally start writing again?

You guessed it ladies, gents, and serpents!

Fucking TROLLS 3

Let’s get this bread or die trying y’all 😈

~•~

So first things first: I didn’t come up with the AU’s I’m using here! They were created by TheMiraculousMat and Keebsification on here and AO3

The AU’s in question are The Eldest and The Youngest and Out The Train Wreck

I just love it when people see John Dory and think “hmmm yes this grown man can fit so much eldest daughter energy in him” cuz SAME

So I thought: what if I just… put em together? OTT! JD and E&Y! JD have a grip on my soul and I’m filling a formal complaint in the form of fanfiction for not just 1, but 2 other pieces of fanfiction!!! Cuz why not

I’m gonna post the notes I’ve had about this idea for the past 2 week, at least the first part.

Well… it’s half notes, half chapter really…

Maybe. MAYBE. I’ll clean it up and post it on AO3. Maybe… probably lets be real

Anyway. Y’all can call me Boog and this is Project: Hyperfixation Won

Actual story name pending…

~•~

Part 1: Author’s Actual Notes because they are a nerd

Got an idea

Gonna scratch the itch

Half brain rot dump and half story here

Combination of the Eldest and Youngest JD and the Train Wreck JD

I also head canon that trolls have tails and claws and fangs

They’re lil creatures

Basically the same stuff happens in TW with the manager and John being Branch’s father.

Branch grows up knowing JD is his dad while everyone else thinks they’re brothers.

He and Luka are dating. He’s basically Branch’s other dad.

Luka gets taken and John thinks he died. He keeps his glove to remember him.

The fight still happens. John still leaves but promises Branch that he’ll come back.

He goes to the Neverglades for the next four years.

When he gets a letter about Rosiepuff and Branch he immediately heads back to the tree to take care of him.

Pretty much all of E&Y happens but with the change of Branch knowing JD is his dad.

Makes the trauma of him leaving worse in a way which adds to the angst of the first parts delicious, but it also makes their bond really solid later on.

John forgot that everyone in the village knew them as brothers until Poppy asks him if John is Branch’s daddy out of the blue. He panics and says “no” on instinct and they both decide to just go with it. Easier than explaining it to everyone.

She still doesn’t know. Nobody does.

John still loses his arm trying to save Creek(nasty ass).

One morbid silver lining John felt was that at least it wasn’t the hand he wore Luka’s glove on. Small miracles. Lol I’m sorry

Branch doesn’t remember Luka anymore, at least not really. He sorta remembers a burgundy haired troll that he thought was important but couldn’t remember anything else about them so he didn’t think too much about it.

John doesn’t really like talking about him and Branch hasn’t ever asked so he doesn’t bring it up.

He starts dating Hickory and he does tell him about Luka. He admits that while he definitely is falling for Hickory, a part of him will always belong to Luka and their relationship will always be really important to him.

Hickory is more than okay with that and even tells him that he would’ve loved to have met the man that made his sweetheart so happy and kept him safe before it was his turn. (John just about cried when he said that same buddy and agreed that they’d probably get along pretty well.)(He shows Hickory pictures of him and Luka one day and they laugh over the fact that John clearly has a type.)(And, based on Hickory’s own light blush, same.)(He immediately said Luka was ‘real cute’ and John still laughs at him for it.)

He also tells him about Bold and how Branch came to be. (Hickory spent solid hours comforting him afterwards and spent an equal amount of time thinking of ways he could get Dickory to help him torture the bastard if he ever saw him.)(He decides in that moment that he’d do anything to protect his boyfriend and his son. Anything.) (He’s also even more grateful to Luka when he hears about how he protected his love the day they met. He really wishes he could thank him…)

Branch makes jokes about not calling Hickory his stepdad till they get married, which makes John flush bright blue. (Hickory just laughs and winks, the traitor.)(Hickory secretly really wants Branch to call him ‘Pops’ and he’s so obvious about it.)(Branch finds it hilarious and doesn’t on purpose. He’d actually love to call him that, he’s just being an ass.)(You’d think he wouldn’t ever want to but no. For some reason, it’s only thinking of Hickory as ‘Papa’ specifically that makes him feel wrong. Like that’s not available to him. I wonder why.)

After saving Floyd, the boys all start spending more time together as a family. Floyd and Clay move into the bunker with John and Branch. Bruce still lives on Vacay Island but he tries to visit at least once a week, even bringing his wife and kids with him if he can.

They still love doing shows together and will do a big one every two weeks at least.

A few months later, they’re getting ready to hangout together after a performance in PopVillage. Hickory isn’t with them, he was actually watching with Tiny in the crowd, so he can’t see them.(Lil dude is really attached to his “Uncle Cowboy” and “Uncle Johnny” it’s adorable.)(And yes Guy is close by, Tiny is still very very grounded.)

Poppy wants to introduce them to a former stage manager that she’s worked with before that had come to see the show from TrollCity. Branch has met him once before and thought the guy was weird and a little creepy but nothing else made him feel suspicious so he kinda just ignored it. He figured if Poppy trusted him, it was fine. (Obviously he still kept an eye on the old bastard, cause your boy isn’t paranoid for nothing. And you never know.)

They all agree to meet and when they get backstage… it’s him.

Bold.

The bros old manager. The man who hurt their eldest unimaginably.

JD basically shuts down as his younger brothers immediately shield him from view.

They need to get out of here without causing a scene. Fast.

“Poppy, I think we need to go…” Floyd mumbles, his usually soft features twisting in both anger and slight fear as he stared the old troll down.

Poppy looks at them in confusion, “Wha- but you guys said you wanted to see everything we set up!!” She looks between the brothers and the older manager, Branch joining her as his eyebrows furrowed.

“Sorry, kids, I don’t think we can do that…” Bruce doesn’t take his eyes off of the old man as he steps back, closer to Clay and Floyd who were holding John Dory’s arms and hands to keep him steady in their safety bubble, their tails wrapped around his waist. “Not when he’s here.”

Poppy blinks in confusion. “What do you mean? Have you met Mr. Bold before?” She asks.

The old bastard chuckles. “Don’t worry, Miss Poppy.” Poppy huffs a bit at being called ‘miss’. (She’s Queen, dammit. Only Hickory calls her ‘miss’ and it’s always as a joke.) “I was the boys’ manager back in the day! It’s just been a while since we’ve seen each other.” He looks over each brother, clearly trying to get a look at John Dory and noticeably souring when he’s blocked. Then he smirks, taking a few steps closer, his wooden cane thunking against the floor. John flinches with each tap, tap, tap. “You’ve all grown up so much.”

Bruce holds his ground, crossing his arms and rolling his shoulders, his bigger body blocking most of JD from view. Clay was growling behind him, both him and Floyd curling closer to John and their ears pressed back in irritation. Bruce gives a humorless chuckle. “Heh. Yeah, we’ve grown up, Bold. We grew up and you’re fucking old now.”

Poppy gasps. “B-Bruce, that’s not nice!” She turns to Bold and smiles nervously. “I’m so sorry-“

The man waves her off. “Don’t fret. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it. He’s right after all.” He looks at them again all smugly, leaning on his cane. “Like I said, it’s been a long time.”

Floyd scoffs. “Not long enough.” He growls, baring his teeth. His claws start coming out and he’s thankful he’s holding John’s prosthetic arm as he feels them scratch the metal.

“Woah, okay, what the hell is up with you guys?” Branch finally steps in. That was so unlike Floyd to say something like that. He’s never seen the older troll that angry before, he’s never seen any of his uncles that angry before.

Bruce huffs. “What’s up is that we’re leaving. Now.” He goes to turn around to start steering his brothers out of the room when he hears Bold chuckle, making them all freeze.

“You all really have changed so much,” He says, his tail swaying side-to-side behind him. John looks up and they manage to lock eyes, Bold smiling sickly as John stares in horror. “Especially you, Johnny Baby.”

John feels sick. He feels like he’s gonna pass out. He feels his legs start giving out as Clay and Floyd rush to hold him up. He feels his body going completely limp and his vision blurs and his chest hurts and he can’t breATHE-

Bruce tackles the old troll, immediately landing brutal hits to the bastards face. He screams between punches, “DON’T TALK TO MY BROTHER!” Bold tries to hit him back, only managing to smack Bruce in the side once with his cane before continuing to get pummeled.

Branch and Poppy jump in frantically to pull him off of the man and the three of them stumble back. Bruce shoves them off and glares at Bold again. He was lying on the ground, groaning and clutching his nose, there were scratches and bruises on his face and he was covered in his own glittery copper blood. “Stay. The FUCK. Away. From John.” Bruce pants and shakes out his hands, flexing his exposed claws. He spits on the ground. “Bastard.” He turns back to his brothers. “Cmon, let’s get out of here.” He lifts JD up bridal style and Clay and Floyd follow him as he starts rushing to the door.

“Wait, hold on!” Branch runs after them, leaving Poppy standing in confused horror at what just happened.

~•~

That’s what I’ll give for now lol

I have like wayyy more written out but I’m mean so 😈

Anyway

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

Lmk what y’all think ig

Check out the folks that created these AU’s plz @matmiraculous and Keebsification (idk their tumblr so plz don’t yell at me) both on AO3 where I found them

Later yall

[taatsums]

Raito Kitakata SR - Yam Seng!: As Long As We Have These

Part 1

📍HAMA House, Rabbit room

[Door knocking]

Raito: Yukikaze. Are you ready to go? It seems it’s about time for us to get to the airport.

Yukikaze: Yeah, I’m all set…

Yukikaze: But are you sure this luggage will be enough for you? It looks more like you’re making a trip to the convenience store.

Raito: Yeah. I’m more of the local procurement type, so the bare minimum is fine with me. You also don’t seem to be carrying much, Yukikaze.

Yukikaze: I’m not going on a tour this time, after all. When I removed the things I need for skating, I ended up with only a single small carry case.

Raito: Is that so? What exactly do you take with you on a skating tour?

Yukikaze: Let’s see… My skate shoes and practice clothes, obviously. A tablet, some earphones, and also supplements and a tissue box as a good luck charm.

Raito: Are you talking about the tissue box you’ve got over there? The case has a rather peculiar picture on it… What kind of character is that?

Yukikaze: I have no idea. But Kaede gave it to me as a gift. Isn’t it cute?

Raito: I see, so it’s a kind of good luck charm. It makes sense that Chief would pick this.

Raito: Still, that’s quite a lot of earphones to carry around. Are they necessary for your skating routine?

Yukikaze: Yeah. Using them in everyday life is pretty different from practice, so I try all sorts of types to make sure they won’t break in the ice rink or come off while I perform.

Raito: I see… Is there one you’d recommend?

Yukikaze: For now, these SEMY ones. They have a wide range of sound, they don’t fall off easily and have great noise cancellation.

Raito: Ohh…

Yukikaze: I’ve been trying a variety of imported products lately. Even though they’re all marketed as sports-oriented, there are many different types, and it’s quite complex.

Raito: I see. It seems like a world that has no end once you get started in it.

[Running]

Kaede: H-Hold on! Why haven’t you two left yet!?

Kaede: You’ve got less than 2 hours until boarding time, you know!? You should get going while you still have time!

Yukikaze: Oh. Is it time already?

Raito: We’re both lightly packed and can travel around easily. I’m sure we can still get there on time.

Yukikaze: Alright, we’re going.

Raito: We’ll get you a souvenir.

Kaede: Have fun!

Part 2

📍 Tokyo Metropolis International Airport, Lobby

Raito: We arrived just in time. Wouldn’t you say we’ve got enough time till take off?

Yukikaze: Yeah. I’m glad Kaede called us out when he did. If we kept lingering, we might’ve been late.

Yukikaze: By the way, Raito, what did you bring with you? You said the bare minimum is fine for you.

Raito: What I have on me is this.

[Raito takes out his wallet]

Yukikaze: A wallet with a black card and… perfume.

Raito: As long as I have these two things with me, I could even go on a trip to space.

Yukikaze: Heh… I think I get it. Personally, so long as I have this, I'll be invincible no matter the trip.

Raito: This is… a mini soy sauce bottle! And it once again has a peculiar character drawn on it!

Yukikaze: Yeah. I’m using this bottle that the Chief gave me in place of a charm. I can take a whiff of it when I’m missing Japan, or pour it over local food.

Raito: I see. This is a good pick. I’m certain smelling soy sauce while overseas would be relaxing.

Yukikaze: It is.

[Announcement jingle]

Yukikaze: Hm, our flight is being called. Let’s hurry over to check-in.

Raito: Right… Oh, hm?

Yukikaze: What’s wrong?

Raito: I was careless. It seems I’ve forgotten my passport…

Yukikaze: That’s not good. We don’t have time to go back and get it.

Raito: We’re in a pickle.

[Drone wheeling over]

Drone: Kitakata Raito, Kitakata Raito.

Raito: Hm? Is this… Nayuki’s drone?

Yukikaze: It’s trying to give you something.

Drone: You forgot this, you forgot this.

Raito: My passport! Good, I can board the plane now. I’ll have to thank Nayuki later.

Yukikaze: (I think Raito should add his little brother to his travel essentials…)

Raito: Sorry for all the fuss, let’s get going now.

Yukikaze: Yeah. I hope we get to enjoy Singapore.

Raito: Yes, I’ve got high expectations for it, too.

Yukikaze: (I can’t wait to see… Just what kind of journey awaits us.)

NOTES:

(1) The card's title, Yam Seng! is Hokkien for ganbei/干杯/乾杯/kanpai, and translates to 'drink to victory'. It's pretty much a congratulatory cheer said before drinking

[dontmindme-imjustfangirlin]

it's MY turn to share my ratgrinders theory

this has been stewing in my head for weeks and it has little to no support from what we've seen thus far but it speaks to me and may not be coherent but here it is. this got suuuper long so everything is under the cut.

what if the ratgrinders aren't evil or manipulative, what if they're just traumatized and in way over their heads and scared?

i just keep picturing them running in parallel to the bad kids' freshman year. just another group of six kids with powers and abilities they can't wait to learn to harness, to use; to make the world better and to help. arthur aguefort stands in front of them on the first day and tells them an adventurer is a violent wanderer. he romanticizes the adventure, the glory, the prestige. they go to their first classes, and kipperlilly sits two seats behind a goblin her height with a briefcase trying to hand out business cards with his phone number on them; hakinvar, oisin sits a row away from abernant, adaine in material components; ruben ducks his chin down to avoid his brotherdaduncle? henry and completely misses the tiefling girl stomping past the bard class door; mary ann boredly watches on as a half-orc three times her size sings at her barbarian instructor; ivy rolling her eyes when a braggart of a child cold-cocks a fellow freshman; lucy sits beside a redheaded girl who, in the rush of first-day jitters and habitually shielding her little brothers from her parents' vitriol, forgot to bring a pencil to class. of course lucy has one to spare.

i wonder how they met. who found whom first. if kipperlily, type-a and organized, presented everyone she met with a perfect four-year plan. day one to graduation laid out in color-coded sections, the school years broken down by quarter. maybe she found mary ann first, and mary ann went along with her because no one else had bothered to approach. ruben was two feet tall at best and could barely see over the crowd; he kept getting his feet stepped on until a frost genasi gently caught his wrist and healed his bruises with a soft burst of chilly, bracing wind. oisin's horns caught on ivy's bow as they passed by, and he apologized so profusely and earnestly she could only laugh. maybe kipperlily and ivy went to the same middle school, and kipperlily was so excited to see a familiar face she marched right up to her and oisin. maybe lucy noticed the strawberry plush keychain swinging from mary ann's backpack and approached to tell her how much she loved it. she had a matching watermelon, you see. they laughed, hopeful, right there on the sunny turf of the bloodrush field. they decided to call themselves the high-five heroes.

they were so excited to take on the world. they thought they were ready. and then the screaming started.

they'd been at school for less than a day, and the cafeteria was destroyed. the half-orc mary ann watched disinterestedly had been killed. the redheaded cleric lucy gave that pencil had died, too, blood staining the wood of the no.2. the lunch lady who smiled at ivy despite the grimace on her face had been killed. the counselor who said "welcome to aguefort" to oisin with a calming smile had been killed - murdered - by their principal, who immediately took his own life as well in order to bring the two students back.

an adventurer is a violent wanderer. but death and violence found them without warning, and without much wandering at all. the world was a vast and dangerous place. kids died on the tiled floor where they ate lunch. girls were going missing; the most recent one to go missing, penny luckstone, bore a terrifying resemblance to kipperlily.

the far haven woods were not very far at all, but they were safe. they were close to home. they stomped on rats and small elementals and this was not the glory they dreamed of, the rush of adventure or the thrill of wandering this vast world. this was not making the world better. but then even home was not safe anymore. the coach of the bloodrush team pulled half his athletes into a cult and tried to kill their fellow classmates. their assistant principal ended up being an evil dragon and defeated by the aptly named bad kids.

the bad kids, who for their part spent their freshman year murdering people in car chases, doing sick kickflips in abandoned mithral mines, releasing devils from gemstones, tearing up arcades, getting themselves arrested, and saving the missing girls and the world. as sophomore year rolled around, maybe the high-five heroes looked at each other and thought, surely we can do that. they thought they were ready.

their path hadn't been a glorious one, but they grew stronger nevertheless. mary ann never grew taller, but whenever she flew into a rage, she was scrappy and fierce and relentless. ivy's arrows always flew true. oisin bolstered their numbers with fey, elementals, constructs, once even the faded visage of one of his draconic ancestors. kipperlily ducked and wove between rats and put them down with quick slices, so rapid and humane they never felt them. ruben tuned his guitar to folksy ballads and inspired them to imagine they could be more than rat exterminators in the forest behind the school. and dear, sweet lucy, their glue, who kept them safe and healed their wounds.

sophomore year included a project worth a whopping sixty percent of their grade. this did not surprised the high-five heroes like it did the bad kids. preparations for this were baked into kipperlily's plans from the first day of school. ideas for projects were tacked up on her bulletin board and home and in sticky notes in all her binders. i wonder if the high-five heroes really cared what they did, just so long as it was something more that indiscriminately killing rats in the woods. lucy was a cleric; surely she heard whispers of the forgotten one, the god of giants whose name was stricken from the giants' records. maybe the name was hidden so well she had no idea why this god was one best left forgotten. maybe she thought even gods of rage deserved redemption, kindness, a second chance.

sophomore year flew by in a blaze of research and magic. oisin and kipperlily spent long nights in the library and on a rotating series of floors reading tomes of religious history. lucy prayed and communed with her goddess for information, snuck ancient giant texts out of the library and translated them for all to read. ivy and ruben weren't scholars, but their suggestions were occam's razor slicing through thousands of dusty pages of arcane theory and religious treatise. the simplest explanation is likely the right one. mary ann was as quiet as ever, but after long nights of reading, the high-five heroes would awake under soft, fluffy blankets, a plush nestled right up beside them.

when did things start to go wrong? when did ruben's lyrics take a turn to the dark and angry, the romanticizing of self-harm? when did kipperlily go cold and controlling, her thin-lipped smile an iron veneer over anything beneath? when did ivy's attitude turn disinterested and condescending? when did mary ann go into a rage and sneer, all teeth and claws? when did lucy realize they had passed a point of no return and return to the woods to revive the rats they killed, a small penance only she could offer?

what happened that night in the forest? the night lucy died? was it a ritual gone wrong, the culmination of a year of research trying to contact a dead god? was it a channeling or communion turned possession? something dark and evil came to the far haven woods that night. it took their dearest friend from them. was it a rage, this god possessing lucy and forcing the rest of the high-five heroes' hands? was it a gambit, the giant god of rage returning to snatch lucy's soul from her body as collateral?

learn my name, the god whispered that dark night. bring me back, and i will bring her back. you need my name to get her back.

they thought they were ready. they were so, so wrong.

what else could they do? where could they go? they could hardly tell anyone they killed their cleric trying to contact a dead god. arthur aguefort may have helped, but he is gone, running amok across time with his daughter. principal grix would disintegrate them all if he knew what they were doing.

maybe this, too, is where the ratgrinders' (or at least kipperlily's) disdain for the bad kids comes from. when two of their number died, arthur aguefort killed both a teacher and himself to bring them back. he stopped time for half a day to let them rest and defeat the dragon kalvaxus. he smoothed everything over after the bad kids broke out of jail. he risked war with a neighboring country - the second in as many years - because one of his students was detained illegally. the ratgrinders had none of the bad kids' chances or resources or connections. for the long, dark summer of no sun, that resentment festered. they needed a plan to get her back. kipperlily likes to make plans, and she has friends - angry, traumatized, terrified friends - ready to do whatever it took to get lucy back.

maybe the ratgrinders weren't ready before, but for lucy, they would do anything.

i just. do you see my vision?