#I probably fucked up her hand I think it needs to be bigger since it's closer I forgor about. perspective

[dekuscalves]

togacchan. kacchoga

[joeyfranchise]

cuz you know that it’s delicate

joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: what happens when joe’s teammate slips a joke about your size difference and it sends you spiraling? being in love with joe since college has been tough but what happens when he starts figuring it out and trying to unravel you more?

warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, MDNI. heaaaavy size kink, joe being a smartass should be it’s own warning, language, p in v, fingering, oral (f. receiving), roughness. probably more? this one was so much fun, plzzz stick around til the end. 🤭

word count: 3.1k!

note: heyyy everyone! my first joey smut 🤭 i hope y’all love it and again MDNI!! (shoutout to my boo @slimshiesty, hate me later and that stray ball part is rotting in my brain, so i snuck a lil of it in here as an ode to you. ily bbg. 💗) (also another taylor swift title bc i fr couldn’t think of anything else plus i used it a bit.. i swear i’m not trying to steal anyones thing i love all the joey swifties)

tags: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 (plz message me or send an ask to be added!) part 2

sexual frustration has to be one of the worst things in the world. sexual frustration at the hands of your best friend, however, takes the cake.

it started at a party two weeks ago when you were invited out by joe, the star nfl quarterback, certified dweeb, and your very best friend all wrapped into one.

flashback

you were sitting around with joe and some of his teammates, listening in on their conversations and people watching the rest of the time. it was easiest for you to hang out with joe and ja’marr since you knew them from college, but the rest of their teammates and their teammates partners were really cool too, and all so welcoming to you.

everyone was laughing and joking, having a laid back time, picking on each other for random things. that was, until, someone mentioned how funny it was to see you standing next to joe, being that he was well over a foot taller than you.

“what? how’s it funny?” joe asked, glancing between you and his teammate. “because you make her look so tiny! like a little doll. get up and stand next to each other.”

you were reluctant to move from your seat, hating where this was leading. it was already hard enough having feelings for your best friend over the span of a few years, but this was crossing dangerous territory. kink territory.

for you, there was something about how much bigger than you joe was. he towered over you. his body was lean but built with thick muscles. he could quite literally pick you up and sling you around like a rag-doll. (and honestly if he did, you’d thank him.)

you hoped his teammate pointing out your size difference wouldn’t be turned into a big deal, but once joe pulled you out of your chair to stand next to him, it was like the gates of hell opened.

you stood side by side, your head barely even reaching his armpit. everyone around the table laughed, including joe. “damn, i guess i never really focused on how little you are, y/n.” joe laughed, and placed his forearm on top of your head like an armrest.

alarms went off in your head. ABORT MISSION. ABORT MISSION.

you cleared your throat quickly, and came to your senses, shoving joe off before getting back into your seat. “maybe i’m not small, maybe you’re just a freakishly large man.” you remark, trying to keep your voice even.

“nah,” he replied, sitting down next to you again, “you’re sooooo tiny.” he laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at you. you flipped him the finger. “fuck you big bird.” you snarked before downing the rest of your drink. god knows you need it. you hoped that your pink cheeks would be chalked up to the alcohol and that nobody else had caught on.

the next instance came a few days later, on a sunday, and it was much worse than the first. so, so much worse.

flashback to sunday

you came to the bengals’ home stadium to watch their game, and since it was early you figured you’d go down to the field to say hi to joe and some of your other friends on the team.

you made it down and waved hi to ja’marr, tee and sam before making your way to joe. he spotted you and smiled, walking in your direction to meet you halfway.

you decided on wearing one of his jerseys and a pair of jeans, something simple and comfortable. as soon as he made it to you, the first thing he did was look you up and down and then pick up the sleeve of the jersey before chuckling.

“damn, this thing is swallowing you!” he comments. you playfully smack at his arm. “shut up, joey.”

“it’s cute, though. you look nice. are you excited for the game?”

you don’t give yourself much time to process that “cute” comment. wtf does that even mean? who cares. ABORT MISSION.

“of course i’m excited! i can’t wait to watch you guys kick some ass today—“

your sentence is cut off abruptly as joe grabs you and lifts you, turning your bodies so his back is now facing the opposite direction on the field. his grip on you is so tight that your chest is pressed into his stomach. you look up at his face, his expression a mix between anger and concern. you can feel your cheeks heat up and your eyes widen in disbelief.

“um, joe, you’re bear hugging the hell out of me right now. wanna put me down and explain what happened?”

he lets you down gently, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “stray ball was coming right at you. i didn’t want it to hit you, it would’ve hurt you pretty bad.”

you reach a hand up and pat his chest, feeling the thick muscles. “thank you!” you respond, once again monitoring your tone. “i’m gonna head up and talk to everyone, ok?” you ask, already moving to leave. “yeah, ok.” joe says, focusing his attention on the ground. you can tell he’s contemplating something, but you don’t want to ask. you want to get out of there as quickly as possible.

the final instance came a few days later when you went to joe’s house just to hang out and have dinner.

flashback to wednesday night

you park your car in joe’s garage and step out, tucking your phone and keys in your pocket before heading up the stairs. before you make it to the door, joe’s already opening it and waiting in the doorway.

“hi bub!” you call, pushing past him and stepping inside, kicking off your shoes by the door. he greets you back sweetly and the two of you go sit on barstools in the kitchen, just catching up on things that have gone on this week. you rant to joe about your job and he listens intently, offering what advice he can.

he rants back to you about things going on with the team, and frustrations he’s having on the field. you try to return the favor and offer him some advice, but you know you aren’t of too much help. joe appreciates it regardless.

soon after your food arrives, you find yourselves in the living room, sitting on the couch side by side as a movie plays. you and joe always loved just being around each other, you had so deep of a connection that oftentimes words didn’t need to be shared at all.

you both enjoyed those moments.

you felt yourself starting to doze off until joe laughed at something in the movie, the sound waking you a bit.

“oh, sorry. you can go to sleep.” he whispers, pulling you into his side and wrapping his arm around your shoulder. you appreciate his warmth and you rub your head on his shoulder as you get comfy. you hear joe chuckle.

“what’s funny?” you mumble, your eyes still closed. “it’s like i’m hyper-aware now of how small you are next to me. it’s so cute.”

you make no outward moves or sounds, but inside you are screaming. yelling. this is the worst one yet.

you don’t know it yet, but joe’s figured it out. he’s seen you get flustered three times now over these comments, and he knows something is going on in your brain when they’re said. he isn’t aware if you have feelings for him like he does for you, but he knows you liked when he picked you up so easily on the field the other day.

it was effortless to him, despite what you might think of yourself.

you sit next to him in silence, eyes still closed, trying to control your breathing. just try to fall asleep again you tell yourself, hoping that joe has no idea. if you only knew.

when you wake in the morning, you’re still snuggled on the couch with him as the soft morning light shines gold around the living room. you shake him awake.

“joey, i gotta get going. i need to go home and get ready for work and you have thursday practice.”

he pulls you in closer for a moment, hugging you bye, and then wishes you a good day at work. you bolt out the door and to your car as fast as you can, heading home to wash the previous day away in the shower.

end of flashbacks

so, this is where you are now.

it’s been almost a week since you’ve talked to joe, avoiding him because you aren’t sure what to say or do. part of you knows he has something figured out, but you don’t know what or how much.

you’re terrified to let him in on your feelings, what’s going on in your head, because you’re delicate and you don’t want to ruin something that has always been there for you.

the other part of you knows you have to tell him, you need to tell him. you love him, you lust after him. the comments that keep being made about your sizes are driving you to the point of insanity that nothing will fix it unless joe manhandles you as rough as you can take it and he fucks it out of you.

you’re pretty sure your vibrator is gonna be on its last leg soon.

alright, i gotta call him. i gotta get this over with.

you grab your phone off the kitchen counter and dial his number, listening to it ring for a few moments.

“hello?” he finally answers, sounding a bit upset.

“hey joey. sorry i haven’t been talking to you this week. i just— i think i need to talk to you about some stuff and.. would you mind coming over later?”

he says nothing for a moment, but you hear him blow out a long breath. “yeah, of course, y/n.” he finally says. “i can be over around 7?”

you check the clock on the stove, it reads 4:34pm.

“7 sounds great! see you then!” you say, hanging up quickly. now you play the waiting game.

all your chores are done, and you take a lovely everything shower to help calm your nerves, and you make sure to drink plenty of water and have a snack as you tell yourself affirmations.

it’s going to be okay, he’s my best friend. he will understand. he will still be my friend regardless, he’s always been there for me. if he rejects me, nothing will change that.

you sit on the couch and scroll your phone as you wait. there’s still just a bit over an hour before joey will arrive, so you waste time scrolling tiktok, cozy on the couch.

soon enough you hear the doorbell, and you jump off the couch to answer it, stepping aside to let joe in.

he sits on your couch, waiting for you to join him and start speaking. “joe, i, um.. i hav-“

he cuts you off. “you have feelings for me? you like it when people compare our sizes because it turns you on?” he smirks, leaning back on the couch, crossing his arms behind his head. he’s manspreading now, his thick thighs on full display. your mouth falls open for a moment.

“yeah. essentially exactly that.” you finally reply.

“so what are we gonna do about that?” he questions, pulling you into his lap. you place your hands on his chest instinctively, and before you know what’s happening he‘s pulling you in for a heated kiss.

his lips are soft against yours and he gently prods at your bottom lip, sliding his tongue past as you open it. he tastes like mint, it’s intoxicating you. one minute his large hands are splayed over your back holding you to him, the next he’s lifting you off the couch by grabbing underneath your armpits and carrying you down the hall, roughly body-slamming you on the bed.

“dude, save the UFC moves for ja’marr!” you groan, sucking in a large breath. joe jumps on the bed, caging you in by placing his knees on either side of your hips and his hands next to your head.

“no, i don’t think so.” he smirks, leaning in closer until your noses are nearly touching. you felt your cheeks heating up at his close proximity, and his eye-contact with you was starting to feel intimidating, even though you had just been sharing such a passionate kiss. you hated that you could feel your wetness soaking through your panties just from him trying to wrestle you.

he blows gently on your face and you shove at him. he laughs you off and leans even closer, pressing the tip of his nose to yours before moving away and leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“this would be a lot easier if you’d just admit that you want me to manhandle you. you want me to go rough, right?” he teases. you’ve had enough of his smugness. you grab the back of his neck and pull him in for another kiss, tugging at his hair and nipping his bottom lip. he groans into you. he stands from the bed, picking you up again, carrying you across the room before roughly slamming your body against the wall.

you let out a strangled moan, loving the feeling of him using all his strength on you.

“can i take your shorts off?” he asks, looking into your eyes.

“fuck yes, please.” you breathe out, exhilarated.

joe yanks your shorts and panties down your legs in one swift motion, kneeling down in front of you. he’s able to keep your body held up and pressed against the wall. he looks up at you with questioning eyes, making sure this is okay. you give him a soft nod in response.

he leans in and throws one of your legs over his shoulder. he starts by pressing the smallest kiss to your clit, and then licks a slow, languid stripe up your core. you hiss, your body arching off the wall at the new sensation. when you look down, you find him looking up at you, his beautiful blue eyes trained on your face.

your eyes roll back in your head as he continues his ministrations. you feel the hand that isn’t holding you against the wall rubbing circles on your inner thigh before joe slowly slips a finger into you.

you quickly approach your orgasm, your stomach tight with anticipation. joe doesn’t let up, working you there until your body feels like it’s being dunked into warm bath water, the feeling covering you from head to toe. it takes you a minute to regain your sense of self. joe pulls his fingers from your core and removes your leg from his shoulder, standing back up before lifting you so your legs are around his waist.

you waste no time pulling him in for a kiss. “holy shit, joey!” you moan, baffled at what just happened. he smirks into your kiss.

for the second time, you’re thrown onto the bed. you sit up, propped on your elbows as you watch joe stalk closer, his erection very obvious in his shorts. he pulls his shirt over his head and you do the same, unclasping your bra just after so that you’re completely bare for him.

you chalk your forwardness up to being comfortable with him, normally you wouldn’t have the confidence to act this way. neither would joe, actually, but you shrug it off.

you don’t remember seeing him strip his shorts off or climb on top of you, but you know you’re kissing him again. you can’t get over how good his lips feel. one of his hands traces your curves, he runs his fingers along your body until his large hand is cupping your breast.

he moves his kisses to your neck and you gasp, reveling in the feeling of him kissing and touching you softly and sweetly.

you look down at his throbbing cock and suddenly you feel intimidated. joe hears you gasp. he lets out a soft laugh.

“don’t talk a big game and then act scared of it, baby.” he teases, pressing light kisses to your cheeks. you swallow thickly.

joe reaches down and strokes himself, spitting on his hand to slick himself up. he looks at you once again for confirmation, and you nod to him. he helps you get comfortable beneath him, positioning your legs around his waist as he pushes his tip in. you suck in a harsh breath.

it stings, but it isn’t the worst thing. he moves against you slowly, sliding in inch by inch until he bottoms out. he looks down and you, your faces inches apart, and you giggle.

“what is it bub?” he asks, smiling softly. “they weren’t kidding calling you big dick joe.” you laugh out. joe laughs too.

after giving you a few minutes to adjust, he starts moving hips, rocking into yours slowly. you think this is what the peak of euphoria feels like.

he leans back down to kiss you, his hand finding your throat and squeezing ever so slightly. your back is arched, your chest pressed to his as your hands tangle through his hair. his hands move down, finding your hips and holding them down to the bed. you moan at the rough grip.

he starts going harder, his hips pistoning into yours as you continue kissing, both of you moaning out your pleasure.

“joey, i-i’m close.” you warn, your body covered in a sheen of sweat. you felt it again, you were so close to that warmth once again pulsing over your body.

until.

knock knock knock.

what was that? you thought. you tried to focus on joe but everything seemed to be slipping away.

then, there it was again. the knocking. and the shrill of your phone ringing.

you startled awake, sweat covering your body. you looked at your phone screen. 7:10pm. one missed call from joe.

you threw your throw blanket off, trying to gather your thoughts. what the fuck? what is happening?

you thought you’d just had the best fuck of your life, that everything would be okay with you and joe but… it was just a dream? you dozed off and you didn’t even know it.

“y/n, let me in!” you hear joe yell from the opposite side of the door. you’re panicking, your body is hot, your clothes are stuck to you. still, you get up and almost sprint to the door. you open it, taking in his appearance. just like your dream.

black shorts, black shirt. backwards cap.

“can i come in? are you okay?” he asks. you watch as he takes in your appearance. sweaty hair stuck to your neck, your eyes glazed over.

“um, yeah joe. i’m okay. come in.” you step aside, inviting him in, just like your dream. he sits down.

“so, what did you wanna talk about?” he asks. you sit down next to him, blowing out a long breath. this was gonna be a longggg conversation.

[rcmclachlan]

The Least Vulnerable Spot 8x16 spec fic

In which I ask the ultimate questions: under what circumstances would Tommy not attend the memorial procession for Bobby? Also, how silly can I make this?

+

Buck has never considered himself to be that guy, but when a man hands you the viral antidote he stole for you, kisses you on a rooftop backlit by the sunset while a couple of Sikorsky UH-60s hover threateningly, and whispers "Here's looking at you, kid" before ushering you through the rooftop door so you can save your family while a bunch of stone-faced Army guys advance, you tend to have an expectation or two. Like, that he'll pick up his fucking phone when you call. 

He's left so many voicemails and sent so many texts to Tommy's phone over the last four days that he's pretty sure Verizon has his account flagged, but he thinks Petrea, his account rep, would understand if he explained that his ex-but-maybe-not-ex-boyfriend flew in like a superhero and then ghosted him when Buck needed him the most. She might even dig up a Jilted Before Your Father Figure's Funeral discount for his troubles. 

It's been a week since they held the procession for Bobby, and not even Buck showing up at Tommy's house the night before and pounding on the door for an hour while shouting that he was yellow-bellied (partly true), a traitor to the 118 name (mostly true), and a lousy lay (bold-faced lie) could make the little coward show his face. 

So he's done. He is finished with Tommy Kinard and his massive amounts of baggage that would make even Briggs & Riley close up shop, and he's proving it by leaving one final voicemail that isn't influenced by his sadness over Bobby's death, the stress of the last couple of weeks, or by how much Tommy's abandonment has hurt him. He's going to be a rational adult about this. He's going to be the bigger person.

".... This is all to say that I hope you have an amazing life, Tommy," he says into his phone speaker. "I hope it's filled with love and support, and it's meaningful and fulfills your soul. And I hope you fall in love with a beautiful, kind man who treats you right, and I hope you get married and stay together for fifty blissful years, and then I hope you wake up from the coma to realize it was all a dream and you're all alone, because apparently that's what you really want! And I know you were quoting a movie on the rooftop, and you know what? I'm not going to even look up which movie it was! Look at me, kid, or whatever it was you said!"

Buck misses the days when he could snap his phone shut to hang up, because stabbing end call twenty times until his finger actually taps the button just doesn't give him the same kind of satisfaction. 

Panting for a moment, he pushes all his anger and pain into a little lockbox in the back of his mind, shuts the lid, and takes a breath. Then he pockets his phone and looks up to find everyone in the station frozen, staring at him like he just performed a magic trick or saw a bug on the wall and didn't identify it out loud.

"What?!" he snaps at all of their slack-jawed faces. "Never seen a rational adult before?"

Out of nowhere, a hand lands on his shoulder like a jump scare, and he startles back so hard he almost throws an elbow into Acting Captain Henrietta Wilson's wrinkled nose.

"Hey, Buckaroo," Hen coos. The expression on her face would be more at home on someone who's been tasked with single handedly cleaning up a nuclear meltdown. "Maybe we should put our phones in our lockers so we're not distracted by our very confusing situationships. At least until lunch time when I can escape to Rosetti's to get a break from it."

Buck doesn't whine and he definitely doesn't stamp his feet. "Yeah, but what if he calls?" 

"You know, he probably would just to tell you the quote is actually Here's looking at you, kid," Hen admits. 

"I don't get it. Who's looking at me?" Buck mutters, giving his phone the stink eye before looking up. "What are you doing out here? I thought you were doing paperwork."

Hen shrugs with her entire face. "Well, I was, but when you started wailing I thought another raccoon got caught in the vent fan again, so."

For someone who got the job under the worst set of circumstances imaginable, she looks completely at home in the role, the way she always does. Buck's trying like hell to be happy for her, and he is, deep deep deep down, but he'll be the first to admit he hasn't been handling it well. Yesterday she'd brought in a tiny potted succulent and put it in the upper left corner of what was now her desk where a framed photo of Athena, May, and Harry once sat, and Buck accidentally knocked it onto the floor. And accidentally stepped on it. Twice. Accidentally.

She'd stared at him until he started to sweat, then said flatly, "You're buying me two more."

"Yep," he'd agreed. There's now a bigger succulent on the desk and a bushy lemon lime maranta on the windowsill. 

Whatever she sees on his face makes her roll her eyes, but she puts her hand on his shoulder again and says, "Okay. You get thirty seconds. Lay it on me."

Buck blinks. "Really?"

"Twenty-nine now," Hen says.

Damn, that's generous. Eddie only gave him ten before he tapped out. 

Squaring his shoulders, Buck lets it all come tumbling out: "I thought this meant something! He threw in with us again and kissed me on the roof and said whatever he said and it was supposed to mean something! You don't just bail after that! He was supposed to be here! He was supposed to support me at the funeral! He was supposed to be there for me at the procession and then fuck the sadness out of me afterward! I had a plug in and everything!"

"Time's up," Hen breaks in, a look of abject horror on her face. 

Buck throws his hands up. "That had to only be twenty seconds at most."

Hen's eyes dart down to his hips, then back up to his face. Her glasses magnify them, so they look bigger and wider than usual. She looks like one of those Precious Moments figurines his mom used to collect. "You had a—Buck, that procession went for a full mile."

"Believe me," Buck grumbles, shifting to try and escape the chafed ache that refuses to go away. "I'm well aware. Serves me right for going with the biggest one I own, but, like, I thought Tommy was gonna—"

"Aaaand we're done." Hen executes a perfect about-face and marches in the direction of the admin offices. 

Buck calls after her, "Bobby would've heard me out!"

"Bobby would've jammed pencils in his ears!" Hen shouts over her shoulder. "Which is exactly what I'm about to do!"

This is exactly what he means when he tells Dr. Copeland that no one ever listens to him. 

He's about to go see if he can corner Chimney somewhere with limited escape routes when his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. His heart gets caught up in a dizzying storm of excitement, dread, and grim satisfaction, because he knew Tommy wouldn't be able to deal with the idea of Buck not looking the quote up.

But when he takes his phone out of his pocket, the incoming call isn't from Jaw of Gibraltar ❤️, but Lucy Donato.

Sighing, he takes the call. "Uh, h-hey Lucy—"

She cuts him off immediately with a curt, "Look, don't think I'm not grateful or anything. We all are. Not being forced to listen to sad James Ingram songs day in and day out has been wonderful, but it's been two weeks already and we need our lead pilot back."

"I—what? Lucy, I hate to tell you, but—"

"Tell me precisely zero details about how dick drunk you are, Buckley," Lucy says flatly. "Just tell me when you're letting him go. Cap's getting antsy and Baxter's been on call for so long that his wife is ready to kill him and turn his body into mulch."

Buck stares at Engine 2 until it blurs. "You... are talking about Tommy, right?"

"No, I'm talking about the other dipshit I work with who committed domestic terrorism because your asshole is a Disneyland attraction." Buck makes a face but doesn't correct her. Tommy once likened sex with Buck to riding Big Thunder Mountain for the first time. "He's missed like four shifts. Any more and Cap is gonna have to, like, make some calls. Where the fuck's our pilot, Buckley?"

"He hasn't been in at all?" He echoes faintly, a sinkhole opening in his gut. 

Lucy makes a sound of disgust. "Frankly, I can't believe they dropped your charges. You're way too dangerous to be allowed among the general populace."

The Army colonel who swanned into Chim's hospital room like he expected them to scatter like roaches had taken one look at all of them and scoffed. "Every fiber of my being hates what I'm about to say, but I can't handle another phone call from Sergeant Grant, so: on behalf of the United States government, we're dropping all federal charges for everyone in this room. If I see any of you ever again, I will throw you into a hole so deep it'll make the Kola Borehole look like something a kid dug at the beach."

Except not everyone was in the hospital room that day.

Buck squeezes his eyes shut. "Hey, so I need to call you back."

"Wait, Dana wants to talk to you."

With a yelp of pure terror, Buck stabs his phone until the call ends, then immediately calls Jaw of Gibraltar ❤️. It goes right to voicemail, like it's been doing, and now Buck is pretty sure he knows why.

"Heeeeeeeey," he says through a grimace. "So, uh, I need you to ignore all the other voicemails and texts I sent you. Um, it's entirely possible the reason you haven't been picking up my calls might be, uh, sort of my fault, but just think: someday when we've been married for fifty years, we'll probably still be laughing about this whole thing."

Inbox full, the automated voice cheerfully tells him.

Cringing, he calls Athena.

+

Buck has never actually seen a federal prison—Jamestown was a regular prison, and he didn't have enough time to stop and take it all in—so he's not sure what to expect, but when they fly over Victorville Medium-Security Federal Correctional Institute, he's surprised to see it looks more like an army base than anything. 

The pilot who picked him, Athena, and LAFD union lawyer Bernadette Kaine up from Harbor One—and that had sucked, because the entire Harbor crew was standing on the tarmac giving him the evil eye as he boarded, and while Dana didn't physically drag her thumb across her throat he could see the same sentiment in her blank expression—didn't actually introduce himself, but his name was embroidered on the arm of his flight suit. 

"Your last name is 'Goodenough'?" Buck had asked, grinning. "'Pilot Goodenough'? Hopefully your flying is a lot better than your name suggests!"

Pilot Goodenough stared stone-faced out the windshield and said, "We might hit turbulence during the flight."

And they did, but oddly only whenever Buck unbuckled his belt. The last time Buck went to get up, Athena threatened to shoot him.

When they land, Colonel Whatshisname is there to greet them, and he looks both exhausted and furious to see him and Athena again. 

"Sergeant Grant," the colonel acknowledges through gritted teeth, ignoring Buck entirely. "It's such a pleasure to see you again."  

Athena simply crosses her arms and stares him down, which is impressive to watch, considering the guy's like 6'7". He's shriveling under her scrutiny before Buck's very eyes. 

"Colonel, it appears you forgot something," Athena says, lightly and terrifyingly.

"Someone," Buck interjects, with nowhere near the same impact.

Colonel Whatshisname sighs, looks heavenward at the departing helicopter as though he'd like nothing more than to flag Pilot Goodenough back down to take him away, then beckons them all inside.

When they get to whoever's office the colonel commandeered, Buck is almost completely distracted from why they're there by the sheer amount of rubber ducks that clutter up every flat surface in the room. No two are the same. There's even a little viking duck, complete with a mace. 

"Can I—" Buck starts slowly, inching his hand toward a duck that looks like a firefighter.

Colonel Whatshisname sits down at the desk, hard. "No."

"That's fair."

"Colonel Spade," Bernadette begins, opening her worryingly bulging briefcase. "I'd like to begin by thanking you for your ti—"

"Colonel, you know why we're here," Athena cuts in, taking the seat on the other side of the colonel's desk. She has to clear a path through all the ducks lined up at the edge so she can rest her clasped hands there. "When the charges were dropped for the members of the 118 involved in the incident, LAFD pilot Thomas Kinard's charges should have been included."

At that, Buck moves to stand menacingly at her shoulder like an attack dog, although the colonel doesn't look all that impressed at the display. If anything, he gets a look on his face like he'd just swallowed an assassin bug. Specifically a North American wheel bug. 

"Normally, I would agree with you, but Thomas Kinard abused his military rank and previous clearance to gain access to a secure government building, steal proprietary assets from a lab that could have caused great harm to the population of Los Angeles, and physically assaulted personnel on his way out," Colonel Spade snaps at her. "There was no way we were letting any of that go."

"Assaulted?" Athena lifts a brow. 

"That's awful," Buck rasps, pressing his thighs together. "Like, how many people and what did he do to them? Like, were there concussions? Broken bones? You can go into detail, I'm not squeamish."

The thought of Tommy fighting his way to get to Buck is so disgustingly hot that he might pop a woody in front of Athena, their lawyer lady, a visibly upset military man, and three thousand ducks. Still not the worst place he's ever been turned on.

"Without Kinard, we never would've gotten the antidote in time to save all those people," Athena says, and yanks her chair forward a little, away from Buck. "The people you deemed collateral damage in the fallout of the release of the CCHF virus."

"No one could have predicted Dr. Blake would go rogue," Colonel Spade says easily, with hate in his eyes. "This is hardly the fault of the—"

Suddenly, Bernadette sits up, and it feels like someone's put a spotlight on her. Buck kind of expects her to break into song or something, but what happens is actually so much better.

"The day Dr. Blake stole the virus, her employment was terminated, effective immediately, and yet security didn't walk her out of the building, which goes against all federal mandated safety protocols," Bernadette says, all smiles, practically glowing. "The lab—property of the U.S. government, if I remember correctly���was entirely unsupervised, which gave Dr. Blake the unfettered opportunity to tamper with the virus, speeding up its incubation period without authorization. Or, perhaps she did have authorization and the government failed to disclose this. Tell me, what else is going on under our noses that the government isn't telling us?"

"Try to disappear the brave people who risk their lives to do the right thing, apparently," Athena answers pointedly. 

"I thought you were a union lawyer," Colonel Spade says through a visibly clenched jaw. "What do you know about federal pharmaceutical law?"

Bernadette's smile goes sharp. "I dabble."

Colonel Spade looks, for lack of a better word, murderous. He's probably one smarmy comment from grabbing the nearest rubber duck and bludgeoning Bernadette to death with it.

But Buck has never been able to help himself. "Is this a bad time to mention my ex-girlfriend is an investigative reporter?"

Athena drops her head into her hand. "Buck."

"I'm just saying!" He crosses his arms, trying to puff himself up the way some animals do when they're faced with a predator. "It sure would be a shame if an anonymous tip about all this landed in her lap."

Colonel Spade squints at him. "Are you threatening me, Firefighter Buckley?"

"You're trying to bury Tommy to save your own ass," Buck growls. "Yes, I'm threatening you."

Wordlessly, Bernadette reaches into her briefcase, which looks like it's seriously ready to bust open at the seams, and slides over a packet of paper to Colonel Spade. The colonel snatches it up and starts reading, and the longer he does, the paler he gets.

Finally, he lowers the packet and stabs Bernadette with his eyes. "Where did you get this?"

"I play mahjong with your ex-wife every Sunday," Bernadette says, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "She sends her regards. Well, she actually sent the tip of her blackmail iceberg. How is your new wife, by the way? She graduate from college yet?"

Eyes wide, Buck looks at the colonel, who's got the swallowing wheel bugs look on his face again.

After the most awkward ten seconds that Buck's had to endure since Eddie crashed his and Tommy's pizza date, the colonel folds like a bad row of mahjong tiles.

"Fine," he says with a sigh, then glares at Bernadette. "And no, she's a junior."

Buck picks up a rubber duck with sharp teeth like a vampire. "Gross."

+

The colonel washes his hands of them by pushing them onto two enormous guards named Weekes and Kluger, who are basically human trees. 

When Kluger gets his orders to take them to cell 58, he droops like a wilting plant. "Hey, you're not here to, like, take Kinard to Gitmo, right? It's just—he's really cool. He's got the wildest stories."

"Dude figured out what was wrong with my car just from listening to a video on my phone." Weekes grins, then leans in to whisper conspiratorially to Buck, "it was the alternator."

"I offered to introduce him to my sister," Kluger says as they board the elevator, and he's either oblivious to Buck's glare searing a hole in his head or is just flat-out ignoring it, because he continues blithely, "but he said he doesn't like girls. Which is cool. I'm down with the rainbow, you know? So I told him about my cousin, Martin."

Buck makes a politely interested noise, but it mostly sounds like he's biting straight through his tongue. Athena elbows him hard enough to bruise his spleen.

"And what did he have to say about Martin?" Buck asks. Meanwhile, every bone in his body is vibrating at a frequency only dogs can hear.

Kluger doesn't seem to be aware that the head is going to burst into flames any second now. "He said he was flattered and that Martin was hot, but he's already got his heart pinned on someone on the outside."

Buck relaxes with a pleased smile.

"Yeah, except whoever it is left him in here to rot," Weekes adds.

"T-That's unnecessary and completely untrue," Buck lies, trying to sink into the floor so he won't drown in shame right in front of them. 

Thankfully, the elevator comes to a stop at the 5th floor, and Buck pushes his way out to gulp some fresh air. 

He's not sure if being on the 5th floor is a good or bad thing. Tommy was charged with domestic terrorism; what if this is the domestic terrorism floor? What if he's neighbors with neo-nazis? What if he'd been jumped by a faction in the shower and took a beating and has spent the last few days pissing blood and breathing through broken ribs and cursing the day he ever picked up Chimney's call about needing a pilot for an unauthorized rescue? 

What if he regrets ever meeting Buck?

But before Buck can ask Kluger for a bucket to throw up in, they come to a stop in front of a cell marked with the number 58, and Buck forces himself to look inside.

Apparently the question Buck should've been asking was what if Tommy's lying on his bed playing paddle ball while he mouths along to whatever 80s hip-hop song is playing on a little radio? Because that's exactly what Tommy's doing.

"I gave him the radio," Weekes says proudly, reaching out to knock on the glass door. Tommy looks up without pausing his game. The ball keeps thwacking against the wood.

"He's so good at that," Kluger says, starry-eyed. "He beat Officer Amino last week and that guy's won tournaments."

"Is it Girl Scout cookie season already?" Tommy asks cheerfully, then effortlessly twists the paddle so the cord wraps around it. He tucks the ball in. "Sorry, I don't have my wallet on me."

Buck shoves Kluger aside to practically press his nose to the glass. "We take IOUs."

As soon as he sees Buck, Tommy brightens, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stands, stretching with a groan, and then walks over to the door. Even in the bland blue jumpsuit, he's stupid hot. Helplessly, Buck puts his palm against the glass.

"Nice of you to stop by," Tommy says with a teasing lilt, pressing his own palm to Buck's, and Buck swears he can feel the heat of it through the pane. 

"I was in the neighborhood," Buck teases back. "Figured I'd pop in."

"I won't lie, I've been dreaming about you showing up for a conjugal visit." Tommy looks away from Buck's face to squint at everyone else. "Although you guys weren't there."

At that, Athena cracks a smile and says in an odd voice, almost twangy, "You stupid mullet head, he beat you with nothin'."

Tommy perks up and doesn't miss a bit, drawling, "Yeah, well, sometimes nothin' can be a real cool hand."

Before Buck can ask what the hell they're talking about, someone shoves him aside with surprising strength. He's a little surprised to see it's Bernadette, who he kind of forgot about, but she's clearly the only one who remembers why they're here because she raps on the glass and says, "Mr. Kinard, my name is Bernadette Kaine and I'm here to take you home."

"We're here to take you home," Buck amends. 

Tommy looks at Bernadette for a long moment, head tilting like a puppy hearing a noise for the first time and gaze narrowed, and then snaps his fingers. "Hey, I know you! I sent my paperwork to you the last time I stole a helicopter."

Sighing, Bernadette nods. "If you do it a third time, I get a free sundae."

"What do I get?" Tommy asks.

"Permanent incarceration and possibly the death penalty."

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Tommy mulls that one over, then gives a decisive nod. "Sounds about right."

+

The helicopter ride home is spent mostly with Buck plastered to Tommy's side while he fills him in on everything he missed. Tommy's devastated to hear about Bobby. He offers Athena his condolences over the open mic, then curls his hand around his headset speaker to murmur apologies into Buck's ear. 

"I wish I'd been there for you," Tommy says, and the words ease some kinked cable inside Buck he hadn't known was there. "I'm sorry I wasn't."

"I'm sorry I forgot there were consequences to your actions and left you to the mercy of the Army," Buck says, pressing his forehead to the jut of Tommy's jaw. "I just assumed everything was taken care of, and I… kind of thought you were ghosting me."

At that, Tommy snorts, wrapping an arm around Buck to hold him impossibly closer. "Evan, come on. You don't kiss a man like that and quote Humphrey Bogart and then ghost him. I'm an asshole and a coward, but I'm not a monster."

Buck winces. "Uh, yeah, when you have a second, can I see your phone?"

"What for?"

"It's better if you don't know," Buck says. "Completely unrelated, but you don't have a code for your voicemail, do you, and if so, can I have it?"

Tommy snickers and presses a kiss to Buck's temple. "How bad did it get?"

"Well, I taught Chim the word 'motherfuckface', so you tell me," Buck admits, cracking a grin when Tommy laughs out loud, but he has a hell of a time trying to keep it up. Finally, he gives up the ghost and tucks his face against Tommy's, eyes prickling hot with guilt. "I'm so sorry. I should've known. I should've known. Never in a million years would you have bailed on the funeral. It should've been my first clue that something was wrong."

Tommy snugs him in close and says quietly, barely audible over the rotors, "To quote an incredible man who drives me up the wall: 'it seems there's a lot we don't know about each other.' I'm glad you know I wouldn't have left you in the lurch like that, but there's a lot more… there's a lot more about me that you should know. That I… well, not exactly want you to know, but that I will tell you. Willingly. Well, not exactly willingly, but—"

"Y-Yeah?" Sniffling a little, Buck pulls away just enough to be able to look up at him. "What are you doing Saturday?"

It wins him a smile. "Vivisecting myself for you, apparently. And maybe burgers afterwards?"

Grinning, Buck snuggles shamelessly back in. "Actually, I wanted to make Bobby's famous lasagna for you. I think I've finally nailed it down. Then you can nail me down."

But before Tommy can respond, Athena breaks in over the line and takes a baseball bat to the moment. "Change the subject. Now."

Swallowing hard, Buck nods and pastes on a smile that doesn't scream 'I'm chubbed up a little in my jeans and I'm trying not to make it everyone's problem.' He coughs a little. "So, uh, who's Humphrey Bogart? Does he have a podcast or something?"

Tommy turns to Athena. "Actually, thanks, but no thanks. Take me back to prison."

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

18+ MINORS DNI

a/n: as requested, part 2 :) not sure if this is what you had in mind, but i think i like how this turned out

summary: masc rich lawyer!reader, (former) bartender-turned-trophy-wife!nat

warnings: smut (fingering, oral, penetration/strap in v), alcohol/being drunk, reckless driving (is that a warning? idk), angst

word count: 11.7k

part 1, part 2

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

— NEW YORK, USA —

Dinner's been ready for almost three hours, yet you're still in the office.

It's not entirely your fault. You're currently working on a big case — some corporate war between two giants. Your client got sued for billions because of a fraud scandal, and since you're known for handling high-stakes cases, you got the job.

Losing this could mean either bankruptcy or a stock market crash — both, probably —, so you've been working overtime for weeks. No missteps allowed for you. All eyes are on you, always, but especially when handling things that others deem to be out of your league.

The problem? You promised Natasha to be on time. Just tonight, since it's Friday, and Fridays are date nights. You're not allowed to spend them in the office. You're supposed to spend them at home, with your wife, and not with a ton of contracts and emails you still need to comb through.

Outside, the sky is dark. No stars are visible. The glittering city beneath it, alive with lights and vibrant neon signs, makes up for that. Everything looks small from up here. Manageable. The mess on your desk, however, seems to only be getting bigger.

You squint your eyes when your vision goes blurry. Too focused on the email you're reading, you don't notice how your phone vibrates again.

When you don't pick up, Natasha slams her phone down on the table and crosses her arms. The lobster in front of her: cold. The mashed potatoes: having formed a crust. The asparagus: soaking up lemon juice and oil and turning limp.

The big penthouse, once so appealing, is nothing but a big empty shell. It's silent, lifeless, lonely. So much so that Linda, your private chef and maid, even offered to stay and keep her company. Of course, Natasha had turned down the offer. It's not that she doesn't enjoy the woman's company, but come on — having an employee stay overtime just because her own wife won't come home from work is just embarrassing.

She exhales, slowly, twisting the wedding ring on her finger. One leg crossed over the other, she stares into the adjacent kitchen. She's still hoping you'll show up soon, but it doesn't seem likely. Eventually, she gets up. Bare feet pad over the woolen rug and carry her all the way into the hallway.

She pauses, but only to slip into a coat. She picks out a pair of high heels and takes the elevator downstairs.

You're immersed in a thick financial contract when the door opens. Any normal human being would jump up immediately — but Natasha's found you have the survival skills of a rock, at least compared to her, so you keep your head in your hand and your eyes on the paper you're holding.

Natasha pauses for a second, just taking you in. Messy, tousled hair, soft to the touch and smelling like the guava shampoo you love. A suit, ironed and fitted. Shoes you got in Italy.

It's the little things she notices about the idiot sitting in front of her. Because that's what you are — an idiot. An idiot she loves, though. Her idiot.

She's already decided you're done working. You shoot out of your chair when the contract is suddenly plucked from your fingers.

"Jesus fucking- oh, it's you!"

Natasha slams the contract down on the desk, glaring at you. You feel your insides shrivel up with shame.

"Yes, it's me", she says, keeping her hand pressed on the stack of papers. "And, oh!, it's you. Still not at home."

You rub the back of your neck, shifting. You're tired. You're overworked. And now, you're also feeling guilty.

"Sorry", you start, cringing at yourself. "The case, it just...it's a big deal. There's a lot to go through. It's important, and-"

"And I'm not?"

Your eyes widen and you nearly start sputtering. Admittedly not the smartest move, but again: you're tired. Overworked, in fact. Hopefully she'll forgive you for being a bit of a dumbass at the moment.

"Come on", she challenges. "Say it. Say it's more important."

"What?? Of course it's not! But it- it's a case, you know, and I'm a lawyer, so I kinda sorta gotta..." You gesture awkwardly and she rolls her eyes. "I'm sorry, love. You know how it is."

"One night, Y/N", she says, stepping closer. "One night. I don't ask for anything else."

"I know, baby", you quickly say, voice desperate. God, you really fucked up. "I'll make it up to you."

Natasha sighs. She lifts her hands and runs them through your hair, ruffling it up further. You crack a hesitant smile and wrap your arms around her waist. The look on her face is pointed, but she keeps combing her fingers through the unruly strands she loves so much, so you know she can't be too mad.

She grabs your tie and yanks you closer. You let out a wheeze, but she's unfazed.

"Listen, honey", she says, tugging at the tie a few times. "We'll go home. We'll have dinner. Tomorrow, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"Deal", you immediately say.

"No more nights at the office."

Your mouth opens, but she presses her index finger against your lips.

"Don't even try to argue", she says firmly.

If she lets loose now, this will never end. You've already spent a few nights too many asleep at your desk. Your bottom lip pokes out, just barely, and she pinches it.

"Sorry", you mumble, looking like a kicked puppy.

Gone is the lawyer-level damage control, the confidence with which you carry yourself. You've spent hundreds of hours standing in front of judges and other lawyers, yelling at people, repeating your points and finding new arguments and letting others yell back at you as well.

But this is your wife. When you're with Natasha, that facade you built so meticulously just crumbles. Which, despite the fact that she's bossing you around, is actually a good thing.

Her thumb brushes over your bottom lip, then she lets go of your tie and smoothens it out. You exhale, leaning in and catching her mouth in a kiss. She makes a soft noise, but then wraps her arms around your neck.

Hands run up and down her sides, around to her back. You pull away and study her. Green eyes, plush lips, a face so pretty it hurts.

The case you're working on may be out of your league, but Natasha definitely is. You have no idea how you got her to marry you.

"I'm sorry", you repeat, massaging her back through the fabric of her coat. "Let's go home."

Natasha softens. She squeezes the back of your neck and leads you out into the hallway. The rest of the building is dead silent, except for the soft hum of the a/c's. All your employees have gone home.

You blink, a little disoriented, and run your hand through your hair. Spending nearly 16 hours at your desk, even having lunch there, took a toll on your brain.

You enter the elevator and lean against the wall. Natasha notices your tired eyes and tuts. You look at her, see her smile, see the worry in her gaze, and recover enough to grab her and spin her around. A soft thud, and she ends up pinned against the wall.

"Oh, now you're awake?"

"No matter how much energy I may spend on work", you mumble, undoing the front of her coat, "I always make sure there's enough left for you."

She hums and sighs, hips buckling forward. You let the coat slide off her shoulders and bite back a grunt, then press your lips to her neck. Your hands roam and squeeze skin, soft as butter and smelling heavenly.

Natasha wore nothing but a tiny piece of lingerie underneath when coming to pick you up from your office. It makes you wonder what she had planned originally. It's not like you haven't made use of your reclinable office chair before.

The elevator dings. You whine softly, trying to stay attached to her, but she's already slipped away and out into the lobby.

"Wait, wait, wait-" You grab her coat and hurry. She's too close to getting outside, into the streets, where anyone could see her. "Fuck!"

You reach her just in time, throwing the coat around her like a shield and pulling her back against you. She stumbles backwards, but you've already got your arms wrapped around her. Before she knows what's happening, the world tilts and you've got her dipped down.

"We've talked about this."

"I like seeing you freak out."

"Obviously", you murmur, kissing her. You kiss her like you don't have time, like you're in a hurry, which is far from the truth. This is your law firm. If you wanted, you could drag her behind the reception desk and let her have her way with you there.

She runs her hands into your hair, slowly tousling it up more and more. She loves the messy look. Adores it. If it was up to her, you wouldn't have access to a hairbrush.

Slick mouths slide against each other, lips kiss bitten and swelling up. You straighten up, still clutching, still kissing her, and walk her backwards until the summer night air envelops you.

Her back against the wall. Her back against the front of your car. It takes all of your strength to let go and get into the driver's seat.

"Fuck", you mutter, glancing at her. Lips red and still slick, cheeks flushed. A dream to kiss, a nightmare to sit next to while driving. "Pray we don't get in a car crash."

"You'll do fine", she says.

You won't.

You're driving down the street when she suddenly turns around. She leans in, one hand playing with the hair at the back of your head and the other slowly loosening your tie.

You gulp, and your throat bobs. Natasha smirks faintly and brushes her fingertips over the little hollow base of your throat.

"I have to focus", you say, voice strained, and shift in your seat. You were already worked up, and she's not making it easier on you.

"Focus, then. Focus on me", she mumbles, dragging her finger down to the part where your shirt is buttoned up. "A good driver could do it, you know."

"Nat, baby, I-"

"Come on, hotshot", she whispers, unbuttoning the first button. The car swerves slightly, and she laughs. Laughs. Right in your ear. "We got five more minutes, then we'll be home. Can you last that long?"

Can you? With the way heat is flooding your body, making wetness gather between your thighs? With her lips against your earlobe, her fingers continuing to slowly undo button after button?

No. Not without crashing the car, at least.

You shake your head, gripping the steering wheel desperately. "I'm pulling over", you say, begging. "Please."

"No", she says, hooking her finger into your sports bra. "You made me wait three hours, and you're telling me you can't do five minutes?"

You let out a quiet, frustrated wheeze. That's why she's doing this. To get back at you for working overtime.

"A normal wife would-" You squirm in your seat, her hand sliding down your stomach, "would just make me sleep on the couch."

"Should've married one, then."

"Nat", you whine. "Come on. Get in the back."

She makes a disapproving noise, her fingers trailing back up your chest. Suddenly, she cups your jaw and makes you look at her. The car swerves again, this time so badly it makes your eyes widen.

"Four more minutes", she taunts.

You glance at the road, blinking a few times. Your hands are white-knuckled, your pupils blown. Arousal and panic are flooding your veins and soaking your underwear.

Natasha lets go of your jaw. You turn your head. You hear the rustling of clothes. Dumb as you tend to be when it comes to your wife, you glance at her.

Gone is the coat. She's back to being in just lingerie. Red lace adorning creamy supple skin, showing off every inch of her body. If you could, you’d get on your fucking knees and worship her, but that’s not an option right now. Instead, your brain gets fried by the inability to act on your urges.

Tires screech on asphalt. You curse under your breath.

"Eyes on the road, love."

"Put that back on."

She tilts her head at you. "Put what back on?"

You exhale and grit your teeth, stubbornly staring at the road. So far so good. Out of sight, out of mind. Maybe ignoring her will work.

Then, she reaches into your lap and starts fumbling with the zipper of your slacks.

You jump on the gas pedal and make the car accelerate way too rapidly. You slam backwards into the seats, but that's not what you're worried about. Natasha's fingers, deftly undoing the button now, is.

"Do you want us to get into a car crash?!"

"Hush, baby. Focus on the road", she coos, tugging at the waistband of your boxers. "These are my favorites."

You keep going faster and faster until you're well over the speed limit. A bad idea — the faster a car goes, the harder it is to keep it under control. But you're not exactly able to think rationally.

Two minutes, you think, silently begging you'll make it out alive.

You let out a frustrated noise and slow down the car just enough. One hand on the steering wheel, you grab her hand with your free one. She clicks her tongue.

"Awfully feisty tonight. I thought you were tired?"

"Nat", you whine. You recognize one of the stores nearby the building of your penthouse and speed up again. "Give me a minute. Please."

She hums, cupping the side of your head. Suddenly, her lips are all over you. Your neck, your jaw, your ear. You squirm and curse and grip the steering wheel.

The car rockets into the parking lot at such an insane speed you can't slow it down fast enough. It bumps against the wall, but at that point, you don't care. You jump out of the car and hurry to the other side, only to basically throw her over your shoulder.

"You're so dead."

Her arms wrap around your neck, body still half-naked. Grumbling, you grab the coat and kick the car door shut behind you.

"Well done", she says, cupping your face and making you look up as you carry her into the building. Almost midnight, so hopefully you won't run into any neighbors. Your reputation hasn't been exactly flawless since Natasha moved in.

What can you say? You're noisy and shameless.

"I crashed the fucking car", you mutter, lips attaching to her chest before the elevator doors have even closed.

"We made it home, though", she says, her voice shifting into a sigh. You pepper kisses all over her chest, resisting the urge to just slam your fist on the button next to you and make the elevator stop. "My, you're eager."

You don't say anything. You're too distracted by the feeling of her body against yours, soft and warm. Humming against smooth skin, your face nuzzles the spot between her breasts.

The elevator stops and the doors slide open, revealing your living. It was once so cold here, so lifeless. It wasn't a space you lived in; merely one where you existed. Then Natasha moved in, and everything changed.

It's the small things. Her reading glasses on the coffee table, the stack of magazines next to it. Her abandoned cup of coffee. The painting she picked out and hung above the fireplace.

Not that you're paying much attention to it right now. You move to the couch and drop her down on her back. Straightening up, you pull down your pants and boxers and reveal the strap you've got attached to a harness. For the first time that evening, Natasha's speechless.

"You..."

"Date night", you say, kicking off your slacks and unbuttoning your shirt. It falls to the floor. "Wanted to be prepared."

"God", she moans. You crawl on top of her. "You can't just do that."

"No?" You run your hands up her body and hook your thumbs into the sides of her lingerie. You pull it down right as you kiss her neck. "Did it, anyway."

You lean up to kiss her. Your hands slowly part her thighs. You settle between them, but right as the tip pushes in, you nuzzle her cheek.

"Love?"

Natasha bites back a soft sound of frustration. This isn't the right moment to start talking, but you'll do it anyway.

You push in deeper, fingers gripping her skin for stability. You feel her body tremble. Her hips rock against yours, searching for more — more friction, more depth, more you.

You kiss her ear and bottom out. She moans, her head dropping back into the cushion.

"You, me, London. Next week."

"Again?"

You hum, rolling your hips. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, thighs squeezing your middle. You're aware you've been traveling a lot, but most of the time, it's necessary.

"Yeah", you grunt, simultaneously thrusting into her and pulling at her hips. You're fucking her into the couch, you're leaving her head devoid of thoughts, you're literally mid-stroke — yet you're talking to her like this is a completely normal situation. "Got a meeting with an investor. We'll stay in a suite. Have some fun."

"Baby, you..." She makes a useless noise, her hand gripping your tie. "Don't talk."

"Why?", you ask, breathless, and keep pounding into her. She lets out a choked moan. "It's important."

"Sure, but...oh..." Her lips part and her chest heaves. Her hips meet every thrust, and you smile against her neck. "Fuck."

"Close already? I haven't even told you about the new private jet I bought."

Natasha shakes her head, refusing to talk. She's writhing and moaning beneath you, stomachs slick with sweat as they rub together, back arching and thighs clenching. And you're trying to talk business trips with her? Absolutely not.

You decide to have a little mercy on her. You kiss her, deeply, taste her moans as she comes apart and shudders. Every moan is taken like a win.

It takes a moment for her to recover. You smile at her, your fingers brushing sweaty strands of hair away from her forehead. She stares up at you, panting and eyes unfocused, then tilts her head.

"Another jet?"

"New model."

"Dear god", she mutters, wrapping her arms around your neck. "You've got to calm down a little."

"Why?" You lean in, nibbling her earlobe. "You said you liked the seats."

Natasha pauses and lifts her head. You raise your eyebrows.

"That's why we went looking at jets?", she asks, the disbelief written all over her face. "You said it was a gift!"

"For you."

"Well, that wasn't clear."

You snort and kiss her cheek before sitting up. Natasha follows, grabbing the shirt you discarded on the coffee table and putting it on. You pad into the kitchen, her hand in yours.

You turn on the lights and make your way to the fridge. Natasha sits on the counter, bare legs crossed, and accepts the plate you hand her.

"Warm it up?"

"No", she says, grabbing a piece of asparagus and biting into it. "You're returning the jet."

You look up from your own plate. The first thing that Natasha can think is that you should probably get a haircut — the strands in the front are long enough to partially block your vision. But she can't voice that thought. She adores this look a little too much.

"Why?", you ask through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"Because it's insane."

"The interior was custom made, though."

"So?"

"Well, I can't return that, can I?"

She frowns, then sighs. You have a point. Returning a multi million dollar aircraft? With a custom made interior? Not happening.

"Okay", she says, thinking. "Donate it."

You give her a deadpan look and set your plate aside. "Love. Baby. You can't be serious."

"I am."

You shake your head and kiss her. She tastes like lobster and lemon juice, but when it's the right person, the fishy taste doesn't throw you off much.

"You're sweet", you mumble, squeezing her waist. Natasha places a dollop of mashed potatoes on your nose, and you scrunch up your face. "Play nice."

"I'm serious", she says, kissing the mashed potatoes off your nose. You grimace and grab a napkin to wipe it off. "Donate it. Someone might need it."

"I think we're both too tired to think straight", you mumble, pecking her lips one last time. You step away and put the half-full plate back into the fridge.

Natasha slides off the counter. Her arms wrap around your middle, her chin comes to rest on your shoulder.

"Finish your dinner", she says, watching you grab a bottle of sparkling water. "You had a long day."

"At this point, all I want is to go to sleep."

"Fair. We're still not keeping the jet."

You turn around, a little disgruntled, and wrap your arm around her. You start your two and a half minute journey into the bedroom.

She pulls you over the threshold, making you stumble right onto the bed with her. Guilt nags at you as you realize it's been a while since you didn't get here only after she'd fallen asleep.

"I love you", you murmur, kissing her. Your fingers brush over clothed and bare skin, the feeling enough to make your heart beat a little faster.

No reply. Natasha deepens the kiss, fingers gripping your face and keeping you close. No way to leave, at least for tonight.

Good. You don't want to leave, either. Because you're right where you want to be, where you're supposed to be. You'd buy her the moon and the stars, fulfill every last one of her wishes.

(You're still not returning the jet, though.)

. . .

— LONDON, UK —

"One more hour", you mumble, typing away on your laptop. Natasha hums, her legs stretched out on the leather sofa.

You're 50 thousand miles in the air. Clouds surround the private jet you're in. You're in slacks and a shirt, the top button undone, your hair damp after you washed it in the bathroom onboard.

There's a platter of fruit on the table you're sitting at. Cubed mangoes, papayas, strawberries. Two champagne flutes, empty now.

You let out a frustrated noise, the click-clack of the keyboard becoming more pronounced. Natasha turns her head, but you don't notice. What a shame — she's wearing that one red dress that'd normally leave you drooling. But you're focused on work, again, so you're not becoming part of the mile high club yet another time.

She watches you for a moment. Her teeth sink into her lip, chewing slowly. You're focused, which is as attractive as it is annoying. Why did you even get her a jet with a hot tub if you don't plan on using it? What's the huge couch for, then?

It's not even sex that she wants. Just a tiny bit of attention would be nice.

Natasha gets up and approaches you. She grabs your arm, ignoring your noise of protest and gently peeling your hand off the keyboard, then slides right into your lap. You adjust her so you can see the screen again and continue working.

The audacity makes her roll her eyes. Subtly, she reaches for the laptop and shuts it. You grunt in surprise.

"Hey, that-"

"You can finish later", she says, turning around enough to undo more buttons, "but first, you let me finish."

Heat shoots into your cheeks. You squirm beneath her and grab the laptop, opening it again. You let out a silent sigh of relief when you see the email you were working on isn't lost.

Natasha frowns, her fingers loosening. She's used to your attention wavering quickly, but this quickly? For god's sake, she's literally in your lap. She's undoing your shirt and offering herself to you like a buffet.

"Love", she mumbles, tracing your jaw. You hum absently, still staring at your screen. Then, the dreaded click-clack continues.

Click-clack, click-clack. Your moans should be filling the air instead of this annoying noise. Your hands should be on her, not on the keyboard.

Maybe Natasha is being selfish. Given the fact that this is one of the rare occasions where you're able to spend a couple hours together, though, she seriously doubts that.

She swallows, trying to ignore the feeling of hurt that's settling in her stomach. Don't take it personally, she tries reminding herself. She works a lot. You knew that when you married her.

It still hurts. It's been hurting for a while.

Finally, she finds her voice again. Her fingers are tugging at the top button of your shirt, tentatively, but the only sign of you noticing is the subtle raise of your eyebrows. The light from the screen in front of you is making your face glow.

"Is it always going to be like this?"

Your head whips around, mouth opening in shock. Now you heard her.

"What do you mean?", you ask, cupping her cheek. She takes your hand and peels it off her face.

"You know what I mean."

"Nat, you..." You exhale slowly, your stomach turning with guilt and mild nausea. The words 'you knew' are on the tip of your tongue.

Because she did. She knew what your life is like when she married you. She knew how much you work. She knew you only spend about a quarter of your week at home. Most of the time even less.

It wouldn't be fair bringing that up, though. Nobody expects the negative things to stay negative when getting married. That little flame of hope usually dies way after.

"I'm sorry", you say quietly. "I'll make it up to you."

This time, it's Natasha's turn to swallow down something she'd regret saying. She just nods, lip balm-soft lips pressing against your temple and slender fingers tousling your hair, then she gets off your lap. You watch her sit back down, staring out the window, her manicured hands twisting in her lap.

Do you get up? Do you continue working?

You exhale, slowly, then quickly finish the email you'd been writing. Just one more email, then you'll hop into the hot tub together. You'll have just enough time to relax a little before arriving in London.

One email turns into four. Four emails turn into you reading through a contract. As you're reading, you conclude that you may as well take notes now.

The click-clack doesn't stop. Natasha sits there, staying silent as to not disturb you.

You're still typing when you reach London.

The silence is suffocating when you enter your suite. You've barely even closed the door, and Natasha has already disappeared in the bathroom. You stand there, suitcase in hand and hair slicked back, a little stunned.

You're aware of where you went wrong. Right in the damn jet, when you couldn't take a ten minute break from your stupid job for once. You should've closed the laptop. It's not like you're behind on anything, anyway.

It's too late now, though. You hear the water run, which probably means she's running herself a bath. You hesitate — is it even worth trying? — but then you go and knock.

Silence. Nothing but the muffled sound of water lapping.

"Nat?", you call. You knock again, then rest your ear against the door. Your hand is flat against the cool surface. "Nat, baby-"

The door opens so suddenly that you nearly tumble over. Natasha crosses her arms, not making a move to steady you.

"What?"

"Uh", you say stupidly, rubbing your neck. "What you doing?"

Her expression doesn't waver. What happened in the jet was enough to make that last string of patience snap. And now? Not yelling, no. Not trying to start a fight. Just giving you that detached coldness.

"The water's running", she says. "I thought you had work to do?"

"Yeah, but-"

The door slams shut. You stare at it, baffled, then the panic sinks in.

Fuck. Oh, fuck. Sweat starts gathering at the back of your neck, your heart begins to race, you blink in disbelief. During your entire relationship, you've never had Natasha slam the door shut on you. Not even during your worst fight.

This, however, has been building up for weeks now. The pot has been bubbling — it was only a question of when it'd boil over. It hasn't boiled over yet, though, not fully at least. Are you going to let it boil over? Oh hell no.

You shake your head and reach for your phone. Meeting? Canceled, done, over. (Actually, postponed. Cancelling a meeting with a potential investor, especially one who's this powerful, wouldn't be the smartest move.)

Then, you start reaching out to a few contracts.

Contact one. Book a castle (the entire thing, of course) for the night. Make sure they have those silk bedsheets Natasha loves. In her favorite color, obviously. Don't forget the little chocolates — she loves those.

Contact two. Find a horse-drawn carriage. White horses too, while you're at it.

Contact three. Private chef, please. Specialized in Italian cuisine.

Contact four. A new dress, tailored if possible so it'll hug her curves perfectly. Of course, you have all her measurements on hand.

Contact five. Jewelry. Necklace, rings, earrings, all matching and all of them with a price tag that'd get the average couple through an entire year.

By the time Natasha's done with her bubble bath, you've got everything planned. She exits the bathroom to find you on one knee, a bouquet of  baby's breaths in your hand. The way you tilt your head is nervous, and she almost feels bad for slamming the door shut on you like that.

"What's that?", she asks, nudging one of the flowers.

"Flowers", you say dumbly, then shake your head. "An apology. A question. Let me take you on a date."

She gives you a wary look, but accepts the bouquet anyway. She takes a tentative whiff of the white flowers. Light, fresh, slightly sweet, but so subtle she can barely smell them.

"You have a meeting tonight", she says.

"I do. No, did. I, uh, I postponed it", you explain, straightening up. "You, me. Tonight at 7. I just...I've been acting like an idiot, and you don't deserve that."

Natasha smiles faintly. She looks at the flowers again, her nose buried in them. They tickle her face. Just watching her like this is enough to make your heartbeat stumble.

"Good thing you're self-aware", she says. "I was close to booking a flight on my own jet and go back home."

You stare at her, doubting both her statement and your interpretation of it. Is she being serious?

She shakes her head at the look on your face. Suddenly, she's on her tiptoes and pressing her lips to yours. Minty and sugary, the bouquet against your chest and the petals brushing your neck.

"Good thing you always know what to do", she mumbles, stepping closer. You let out a breath of relief and wrap your arms around her. "You promise we'll have time for us?"

"Promise", you immediately say, kissing her again. Your hands smooth down her back, the robe she's wearing fluffy beneath your palms. "Just us two."

And this time, you do.

The dress looks stunning on her (obviously — not like you ever doubted that). The carriage makes her laugh (now you're doubting something, though, and that'd be your ability to choose the right form of transportation). The castle leaves her speechless.

You're not sure whether her red dress is giving queen or vampire bride, but either way: it gives you a few dangerous ideas.

"You like the castle?", you ask, leading her up a stone staircase. "How much?"

Natasha pauses, her hand on the railing. "No."

"I wasn't-"

"You were."

Maybe you were. You bring her hand to your mouth and kiss her knuckles.

The dining room is all set when you arrive. A roaring fireplace to your right, a domed ceiling, crystal chandeliers and polished marble floors. Food served on fine bone china, brought to you by staff in uniforms.

Much to your relief, the night has been going well. Good food will always better her mood — that's something you learned a while ago. And not many people can stay mad while getting a taste of carpaccio and handmade black truffle tagliatelle. You're right at dolce when things seem to take a turn for the worse, though.

You're holding her hand over the table. You're talking, laughing quietly, pressing kisses to fingers and sharing a tiramisu al limoncello that's sitting between you.

Then, your phone rings. You pause but ignore it, squeezing her hand. Natasha raises her eyebrows.

It stops. You keep talking. It starts ringing again.

You shift, clearly conflicted. Being called twice in a row when you told your assistant to cancel all meetings and appointments for the night usually means it's important.

Natasha knows that, too. She glances at the table, chewing her lip, her thumb rubbing your fingers like she's bracing herself.

You reach into your pocket and accept the call.

Ten seconds. It's fine. Natasha clears her throat, eats another bite of the tiramisu.

Twenty seconds. She sighs, and you pinch the bridge of your nose. The guy on the phone is still talking rapidly.

Thirty seconds. She puts her fork aside and crosses her arms. You shoot her an apologetic look.

A minute. She exhales, eyes closing, and drums her fingers on the table.

After five more minutes, you finally hang up. The silence between you is far too awkward, far too heavy. You rub your neck and adjust your tie, then get up from your chair. Natasha gives you a look that's both wary and warning — if you leave, you're done for.

But no. You grab her hand and give her a shy nod. She tilts her head but gets up, letting you pull her close.

"That wasn't about work", you start, wrapping your arms around her. She loops her hands around your neck, and you begin swaying slowly. No need for music.

"No?", she mumbles, frowning.

"No", you confirm, lowering your head to press kisses to her jaw. She closes her eyes. "I booked something. Just us two. That was the confirmation."

Natasha sighs. The last time you went on vacation together, you spent 90% of it working. She's grateful, yes, but she'd rather spend time with you at home than watch you overwork yourself in some tropical paradise.

You overwork yourself at home already. You'll step into the living room, spent and exhausted, barely able to talk. She rarely witnesses it, but when she does, it kills her.

"Y/N..."

"Just hear me out", you say, one hand slipping under the fabric of her low back dress. Smooth, warm skin, soft and familiar under your palm. You trace her spine with your thumb. "I know you, baby, and I know London isn't going to cut it. Let me take you to Bora Bora."

She shakes her head, but you shush her with a kiss.

"It'll be different", you assure her. "Just us."

Believing you is hard. Just us — two words she's heard too many times. You rarely ended up keeping that promise.

Natasha tilts her head. You kiss her, again and again, the wind outside howling and the leaves rustling. Candles flicker, the fire in the fireplace bathing you in a slow, lazy heat.

Summer is ending, but the sun is coming up anyway.

. . .

— BORA BORA, FRENCH POLYNESIA —

A white bikini and strawberry lip balm.

The netted hammock swings in the warm breeze, the sun warming your skin and the cocktails your throat. She's draped over you, hands on your sides, lips trailing down your neck.

You turn your head and catch her mouth in a languid kiss. Coconut, salt, expensive perfume. Your thumbs hook into the waistband of her bikini bottoms. She hums, sucking your tongue into her mouth.

It's quiet. It's secluded. It's everything you needed and more.

Natasha shifts a little, the hammock swaying in the wind. You smile against her lips and tighten your grip. She's not going to slip away, but you'd rather be safe than sorry.

"What are we doing tonight?", she mumbles, raking her fingers through your short hair and tugging on it. You got a haircut just before you left.

"Dinner", you say, nose nudging hers. You press another kiss to her mouth. "Swim." You tug on her bikini. "No clothes necessary."

Natasha smiles against your mouth, her soft laugh slipping straight to your heart. It's intimacy in its rawest form, and even though you've been married for nearly two years, you feel like you haven't had enough of it so far.

More of this. Less of everything else.

Forget getting up at 5 in the morning. Forget working until a regular teen's bedtime. Forget emails, and contracts, and having to wake her up to kiss her goodnight. Forget the press, who's been after your relationship ever since the public caught wind of it. Forget not being able to want kids because you work so much. Forget it all.

Natasha sits up and straddles your waist, her knees sinking deep into the hammock's net. Fingers trail over skin, find the clasp of her bra, let it pop open. She shrugs the delicate piece of fabric off and you make a noise of appreciation.

You're not sure why you put on clothes in the first place. You're alone out here — when booking this overwater villa, you made sure no one could see you. All the other villas and guests are far away. It's you and the ocean, fishes and other sea creatures included, and nobody else.

Unfortunately, you didn't consider two things: the existence of boats and the fucking audacity of the media.

You slowly pull away, staring in disbelief. An entire boatful of photographers, slowly getting closer to the house. Natasha, confused, turns to look at them, but you quickly pull her down against your chest. She's literally not wearing anything on the top half of her body.

"What the fuck?", she asks, voice muffled against your neck.

You curse quietly and grab your phone. She made you turn it off the night you got here, to avoid distractions. Now, as you're scrolling through messages by your assistant (most of them written in all caps), you realize that may have been a bad idea. Headline after headline, speculating about why you'd go on vacation when your high-profile case isn't finished yet.

You toss your phone aside and grab a towel, wrapping her up in it. You nod at the door.

"Inside. Now."

She doesn't argue. Your wife doesn't want topless pictures of her going viral, and neither do you. You shield her as best as you can, shooing her into the house and locking all the doors and windows. Once the curtains are closed as well, you sit down on the counter to call a few people.

Natasha doesn't need to be told what to do. Unfortunately, she's used to this. It's even worse than that time where paparazzi chased her around the city.

"This is unacceptable", you bark, sliding off the counter. You're too pent up. You need to pace, otherwise you'll explode. "This is a private villa. Nobody should be able to approach it... No, I want you to fucking go outside and get rid of them!"

You scrub a face down your hand as they continue to find excuses.

"No", you say firmly. "Complete privacy was guaranteed, yet you failed to provide it. I can take legal action against you."

Natasha, leaning against the wall in one of your shirts, gives you a tired look. She's not mad at you. She's mad at the fact that, recently, everything seems to be going wrong.

You bite your lip as you look at her, guilt churning in your stomach. Your time here had started well. Ice cream, late night swims, sex in the hammock and privacy. No distractions, no worries. Too good to be true, apparently.

The resort manager apologizes once more, promising to take care of the issue immediately, then hangs up. You're not done there — your PR team and some of the employees at your law firm follow. About half a dozen calls later, you exhale shakily and put your phone aside.

Your eyes meet. It's eerily silent in the way too big villa.

It's just the two of you. Suddenly, you don't get why you had to book this real estate-monster. A nice hotel room would've done the trick. Actually, your penthouse would've done the trick as well.

Natasha doesn't say anything, just clenches her jaw. You rub your neck.

"What do you want?", you ask quietly. She tilts her head. "I've called the shots way too many times. It's not fair."

"I want you."

"You have me."

"Do I?"

You frown, blinking. "Of course you do. You always do."

She bites the insides of her cheeks. You step closer, tentatively. She lets you.

"Tell me", you mumble, grabbing her hand. She glances down at your entwined fingers. "Tell me what you want and I'll do it."

Natasha sighs. She squeezes your fingers.

She knows you're being sincere. Whatever she asks for — she gets it. Vacations, expensive rings, perfumes specifically designed for her. You treat her like royalty, but your time together is limited.

"I told you", she says carefully. "If that's something you can even do."

Your free hand comes up to straighten the collar of the shirt she's wearing. She swallows when your fingertips brush against her neck.

"I can do anything."

"I'll believe it when I see it", she teases, her heart heavy. "Let's just stay here."

You hum, looking up, and take that last step that brings your bodies flush together.

"And the photographers? The paps?"

"Screw them", she says. Her fingers hook into the pockets of your swim trunks, keeping you pressed against her. "Actually, sue them. They'll probably leave us alone."

You hesitate. Now that your location is known, there's the possibility that this will keep happening. The resort manager assured you it wouldn't, that they'd take the necessary steps and guarantee complete privacy and safety everywhere. But they failed to provide it once, and you don't gamble — especially not when it comes to your wife.

"I don't know", you say quietly.

Natasha studies you. Way too many words lie on the tip of her tongue, way too many fears and doubts. She wouldn't be this intent on staying if she didn't think you'll go straight back to work as soon as you arrive home.

You know her, though. You know what she's thinking. You kiss her.

"Okay", you mumble, pecking her lips again. "We'll stay. The full week."

A breath of relief. Arms wrap around your neck. Outside, the photographers find a curtain that's nudged aside just enough to provide a glimpse of you.

. . .

— VIENNA, AUSTRIA —

Your fingers ghost over her arms. You adjust the straps of her dress, then push her hair aside to kiss her shoulder. Perfumed skin, warm and soft to the touch. You look at her in the mirror and press another kiss to her ear.

"You're beautiful."

Natasha turns and brings her hands up to your hair. It's messy, but in a nice way. She brushes her fingers through the gelled strands. "I like this on you."

"I know."

"Mhm?"

"You're not exactly subtle", you reply and quickly kiss her cheek. "I noticed years ago."

Natasha hums, studying you. She smoothes her hands down your front and makes sure everything sits right. The tie, the shirt, the rings on your hands. They match her own jewelry. A small detail, but it's enough. Enough for her to kiss you.

Dark chocolate and vanilla. You deepen the kiss and pull her closer. Your hands toy with the silky fabric of her dress.

"So", she mumbles, briefly pulling away, "business dinner, huh."

"Not exactly." You nuzzle her cheek with your nose, then step away. "Just...dinner. But an exclusive one. I don't know, a bunch of CEO's will be there and I feel like it can't hurt to charm a few of them."

"You?", she teases, turning around to slip her heels on. You watch her, the adoration in your eyes unconcealed and simple. "In your suit and with your short hair? Charm old men?"

A crooked grin tugs at your lips. She has a point. For obvious reasons, you don't seem to check the boxes of what straight old men are attracted to. Not just that — they seem to actually resent you. Probably because, despite it all, you married someone they can only fantasize about.

"Fair", you say. You can't help yourself. You take a few steps closer and wrap your arms around her, feeling her rounded backside press against your crotch. "Good thing I got you."

"I see. I'm the eye candy, huh?"

"Mhm." You kiss her shoulder. Your fingers sneakily nudge aside the strap of her dress. "Eye candy for them."

Natasha laughs quietly. "And you? What about you, hotshot?"

You go quiet, lips lingering on her shoulder. Your hands rest on her stomach, squeezing and rubbing gently.

"Too many words", you mumble, "and not enough time. We gotta leave."

The Palais Coburg. Massive wrought-iron gates, a red carpet rolled over the stairs, marble steps and a white-stone facade. High society and wealth, packed into one restaurant.

You get out of the limousine and round it to get to Natasha's side. You open the door and she puts her hand in yours. Around you, camera lights flash. The smile on her lips is polite and practiced. She's used to this.

You aren't, though. You should be — you're the one with the famous parents, the one who grew up surrounded by cameras, the one who knew how to dodge paparazzi before you knew how to long divide. Yet you're still the one who looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

You fight your way into the restaurant. By the time you get inside, you feel like you're sweating through your suit. Natasha watches you tug at the collar of your shirt a few times, then she leans in and loosens your tie.

"Are you sweaty? I'm sweaty."

"I'm good", she replies, brushing her thumb over the lapel of your suit. She's close, so close you can smell her perfume. It's that special blend you had a luxury perfumer create just for her. "You're good, too."

"I'm not good", you mumble, scanning the room. The people walking past you are exactly the kind you usually surround yourself with — mostly out of obligation —, but you feel like someone who randomly ended up here. "What am I even doing?"

"Hey", she says, tugging you closer by your tie. "None of that, hotshot. You're not alone, are you? So stop acting like you are. Anything goes wrong, I'm getting you out of here."

"But-"

"But no." She presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. She smiles when she sees the smudged lipstick on your skin. "Come on. I'm starving."

There's no point in arguing. You trail after her, grasping her hand, looking a little like a lost puppy that's clinging to the only source of comfort it knows.

Nothing should be able to go wrong in a place like this one. Vaulted ceilings and massive chandeliers, mirrors that reflect suits and form-hugging dresses, arched windows and candlelight. A pianist, not unlike the one who played at your wedding, is sitting in the corner.

Nobody's loud here. The voices are soft, hushed, exchanging secrets that aren't nearly as precious as it's pretended they are. You stare at a group of people, zoning out. Natasha brings you back to reality.

You give her an apologetic look. She nods at the table.

Everything is fine at first. You're served caviar, figs prosciutto, wine. You talk to a few people, introduce Natasha, hold her hand and twist her wedding ring whenever everyone else becomes too much.

You're not sure where you go wrong.

Maybe it's when you let go of her hand. When the closeness, once comforting, suddenly becomes as overwhelming as the dozens of conversations happening around you. When you close your eyes, rub your temple.

No. That's not it. Natasha knows what's going on, and she doesn't blame you. You may be a lawyer, a businesswoman. You may deal with insufferable clients and judges and opponents and employees all the time — but you're used to being on your own. You're used to the silence of your office, to the soft hum and her slow breaths in the darkness of your bedroom. But big events? They still freak you out.

Steak is served next, accompanied by aligot and an array of colorful vegetables. More wine. You down it like it's water.

Once you're right between tipsy and drunk, you're doing better. Much better. It's almost over the top, considering how you were too close to spiraling just moments ago.

A CEO turns to you, introducing himself. He's polite at first. He seems interested, and competent. Everything about him is typical — old-money, rich, well-respected. You should want his approval and, at first, you do.

Then, he starts pointing out things that aren't his to point out. He asks about Natasha — which is good. You like talking about her, being able to introduce her. She's that one part of your life that makes every other part worth it. You once used to do this without her. You're not sure if you could anymore.

Most of his questions are expected. 'You're married?' 'For how long?' 'Where?'

People like him tend to be nosy, though. They thrive on watching others feel uncomfortable, inferior. From the moment he saw you, he recognized you. Best believe he's not a fan.

He takes a long sip of wine, studying Natasha with that kind of look that always makes you wary. Most rich people have no shame. They can buy their way out of almost everything.

"So", he says, swirling the dark red liquid around, "married a bartender, huh?"

Your grip on her hand tightens. He saw the headlines — the ones being released right after your marriage. To this day, you don't know who leaked Natasha's former profession. You don't know why it should be important, either. You do know that everyone expected you to follow in your parents' footsteps and marry someone who's in a similar social class as you (which would already cancel out over 99% of people). Ideally, a man. Ideally, you'd have swapped the suit for a dress and let your hair grow out.

"I did", you reply. Your thumb rubs her knuckles, firmly. A desperate attempt at reigning in your composure. You're too drunk to start arguing. "She makes a mean martini."

"Oh, really?" He nods, looking at her again. Really looking. From head to toe, from her high heels to her makeup. She averts her eyes. "Well, maybe it'll work out."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

He raises his eyebrows. You give him a challenging look and ignore Natasha squeezing your hand. Drinking this much wasn't a good idea. You're a little too loose-lipped.

"I'm just saying", he says, leaning back in his chair. His beer belly makes his shirt strain. "When two people — especially with such different life experiences — jump into marriage like that? It doesn't end well. You should've looked for someone who's in your league."

Your hand slips away from hers before she can do anything. Thankfully, she manages to catch your wrists just before your hands twitch toward his collar.

"You take that back now."

The older man stares at you, stunned. "Why are you young people so sensitive these days? Child, I've seen way too many marriages break up over absurd things. There are differences that love just can't overcome."

You try to pull free from her grasp, but Natasha's relentless. "Get yourself together", she whispers.

"You're saying an awful lot for someone who's here without a wife", you snap, still wiggling your wrists. "Nobody could stand being married to you, huh? Have fun dying and leaving that shit ton of money behind for nobody."

"That is unacceptable-"

"It is?" You laugh bitterly and give pulling free one last attempt. Natasha keeps hissing at you to stop, to shut up and go outside with her, but you're drunk and furious and this entitled shit-bag is the perfect target for your anger. "You don't know anything about my marriage. Anything. We're doing perfectly fine! We're happy! Are you happy? You don't seem happy!"

By now, the entire room is staring. Conversations have turned into whispers that are both scandalized and amused. You're still glaring daggers at the man.

"Someone who's happy wouldn't spend this much time defending their happiness", he says, voice curt and cold.

He's right. You know it, and Natasha knows it. That's why you finally break free and grab your wine glass, dumping it right into his face.

Gasps and chairs screeching on marble floors. Natasha jumps up and grabs your arm, pulling you straight toward the exit. You try resisting — you're leaving, which means you'll be alone, which means a conversation you're not ready for.

Natasha? On the verge of tears. On the verge of starting the worst fight you've had so far.

Because it isn't about you defending your marriage. It's about how you did it. About how it seemed like you're trying to prove something. Like overcompensation. Like fearing the truth being said out loud. You were too desperate, too terrified of what he was saying.

If you were confident in what you and her have, you would've laughed it off. But you didn't. You did something that was even worse than what she was fearing.

The car ride is silent. Natasha's behind the wheel this time. If you're drunk enough to cause a scene like that, then you're definitely too drunk to drive.

The hotel appears in front of you. Natasha stops the car, but neither of you get out.

"You want to tell me something?", she finally says.

"No", you mutter, slumped into the seat. You screwed up, and now you'll have to pay for it. "I'm good. We're good."

"Stop lying."

You turn your head, frowning. "Don't tell me you believe what that old bastard said. He's old and unhappy. Probably just pissed he'll have to plan a funeral no one important will attend."

"That's not what this is about!"

"Oh, no?" You sit up and hit your head against the roof of the car. You glower and rub the spot. "What's the issue, then? The whole 'bartender'-thing? 'Cause you know I don't care about that!"

"Can you stop deflecting for just one goddamn minute!", she says, turning in her seat to face you entirely. "Why were you so afraid? Why did you lose it back there?"

You stare at her, breathing heavily. You can't take it. You're drunk, defensive, spiraling. You don't know how to handle this. So you do the only thing you know how to do.

You grab her face and slam your lips against hers. Natasha moans in surprise, her hands flying to your neck. You start tugging her into your lap, and she resists at first. But one soft 'please' is enough for her to break and straddle you.

Clothes barely come off. There's no need to get undressed. You're still in the car, still in front of the hotel. Being caught would be bad enough already — it'd be all over the news, just like those stupid pictures from Bora Bora. So all you can do is bunch up her dress a little and dip your hand underneath it.

She squirms and grinds against your palm. Breathless sounds escape her, her breathing heavy. You trail kisses down her neck and mouth at her shoulder. Your lips brush against the necklace she's wearing. It's the one you got her as an apology for having to work on a holiday.

Your fingers nudge the fabric of her underwear to the side. You rub circles on her clit, then pump your fingers into her. Natasha's back arches.

No 'I love you'. No kisses. No softness. You feel too much to express it.

You thrust your fingers into her, pressing your knuckles in deep. She buries her face in your hair, smelling guava and hair gel. Her fingers toy with your earring.

Tingles shoot up and down her spine. She shivers against you, hips jerking forward and thighs shaking with the effort of keeping herself upright. She comes around your fingers, pulsing and throbbing hotly, and you pull out.

Outside, a car pulls up. You adjust Natasha's dress before getting out of the car with her. You sneak into the hotel using the side entrance that the staff gave you a key for. You're still not talking. Silence fills the vast space between you as you hush through hallways and find the staff-only elevator.

She looks at you. You've got her pushed up against the wall before she can say a word, her butt pressing random buttons on the control panel.

No talking. Gasping into each other's mouths is easier.

It's a game of guessing. You stop at random floors, but don't pay much attention to them. When you hear your floor get announced, you briefly break the kiss only to dive back in.

The elevator door opens and you step out into the hallway, still lost in each other. You fumble with the zipper of her dress before you're even halfway to your suite. Ragged breaths and lips against skin, her fingers unbuttoning your shirt.

Your back is against the door to your suite. You slide the straps of her dress off her shoulders, and the piece of fabric pools at her feet. She steps out of it, one leg between yours. Gripping her thigh and hoisting it up, you pepper kisses along her collarbone.

Her scent is literally just hers. A mix of her special perfume and the scent that always envelops her early in the morning, the one that makes you bury your face in her neck sleepily. You've done that not nearly enough times. You wish you'd set the alarm an hour later more often.

Natasha's hand sneaks past your hip. She unlocks the door and opens it, making you both stumble into the room. You don't even care that you left her expensive dress in the hallway.

More clothes come off. Your tie, shirt, slacks. Her bra and underwear. You make a pleading sound against her neck and press her down into the mattress. Her hand in your hair, you trail kisses all over her body, worship every inch, before parting her thighs and burying your face between them.

She tastes familiar. You spent your first night together doing exactly this. Something cold wraps around your stomach, twisting and squeezing, when an unbidden thought hits you. What if you spend your last night together doing that same thing, too?

Your train of thought is interrupted. It's hard to think straight when you've got her thighs wrapped around your head. Your nose nudges her clit in silent reassurance, then you continue eating her out.

Manicured nails dig into your scalp, massaging lightly. You drink her down, grip her hips, pin them in place. A raw moan, sweet and wrecked. Her thighs are slick with sweat, and she comes for a second time that night.

You swallow and look up, cheeks slick. Natasha's staring at the ceiling, still trying to catch her breath. You hesitate before pressing a kiss to her thigh. She looks at you when you crawl up to face her.

Your index finger tips her chin in your direction. Lips still swollen and tasting like her, you kiss her.

She pulls away after a moment. You lay down and let her curl into you, head on your chest and one leg thrown over yours. You rub her thigh, staring into nothingness, feeling everything hang between you. Her fingers draw circles on your side. The room smells like perfume, candles, faintly like sex.

The memories from earlier sober you right up.

You should feel at peace. Neither of you do. Words tumble out of you, sharp and stabbing at what's left of you.

"You think we rushed it? Marriage, I mean?"

Natasha's hand stills, her entire body seeming to pause. Slowly, she continues tracing your ribcage.

"Where's that coming from?", she asks, turning her head so her nose is pressed against your chest.

"What do you think?", you mumble. "We're a fucking mess."

Natasha exhales, her breath shaky. Her fingers curl into your skin, grasping for something. She's not sure what she's holding onto, but she knows letting go isn't an option.

"You're saying you want a divorce?"

"What?" You almost shoot up and out of bed. Natasha lets out a surprised noise and you quickly wrap your arms around her. "God, no! No. Not a divorce. Just...I don't know. I feel like if we keep going like this, it...it might become an option."

She closes her eyes. The necklace she's wearing doesn't feel as suffocating anymore.

"You want to change something."

Not a question. A statement. You kiss her hair.

"Yeah." You take a breath, smelling her shampoo. "Not just 'something.' More like everything."

"Oh yeah?" She looks up, chin on your chest, eyes both lazy and wary. "Think you can do that, hotshot?"

You hum, studying her. You brush your fingers along her jaw. You're tipsy, but you're genuine.

"For you, I think I can do anything."

Natasha scoffs but smiles. Her hand comes up to your face, squishing your cheeks and making you roll your eyes. You tilt your head and awkwardly kiss her thumb.

"You mean that."

"I do."

"And that thing at dinner?"

You feel your cheeks heat up, a rosy flush creeping into your face. That's what she does to you — she managed to make you forget about the fact that you threw a glass of wine into some CEO's face.

"About that", you mumble, resting your forehead against hers, "what was the guy's name?"

"Gerard Ash-something."

"Ashford??"

"Yeah, that", she says, kissing your chest. You sigh. "You don't sound too happy."

"His business is a fucking empire, babe", you say tiredly. You really screwed up. "He's one of the most successful people of the century. He has connections to literally everyone. How did I not recognize him?"

Natasha shrugs, her hand sliding up and down your side. "Face blindness?"

"You're hilarious", you mutter. You pull her closer until she's basically on top of you. "I think he shaved his beard."

"Well, he should've kept it. Maybe it would've helped with that gush of wine he nearly choked on."

You pinch her side and she flinches. Her hand slaps your arm, lightly, and you laugh into her hair.

"It's fine", you say, then let out a sigh. You embarrassed yourself and your wife. You also probably ruined your career. "At least it'll make selling the company easier for me."

"The company that's lost a bunch of its worth?"

Silence. You exhale.

"That one, yes."

Natasha looks up, and you give her a guilty look. It's out in the open now. You're not sure why you've been hiding it from her. She's your wife, your partner. You should've told her. But how could you? It's not like anyone ever told you wealth or success aren't the keys to love and happiness. Quite the contrary.

Besides, you met her when you were at your peak. When your business was thriving, and your career as a lawyer. When everything seemed perfect. Now, you have to disappoint her. Your business has been failing, and all your attempts at saving it were in vain.

"You should've told me", she says.

"I didn't want to scare you." You pause, closing your eyes. "You noticed?"

"No", she says. "It seems obvious now, though. You were overworking yourself all the time, and there was no real reason for you to do that."

You let out a short, bitter laugh. "Thought I could fix the unfixable."

Natasha smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. You've been keeping secrets from her. She understands why, but does it sting? Does it wound her pride? Yes. In a way, yes.

She stays quiet for a few seconds, her fingers drumming against your side. She's not sure she wants to know the details. She asks, anyway.

"How bad is it?"

"It's still fine", you say vaguely. "Even if I stop working, we're financially sorted for the rest of our lives. It still sucks, though. My family..."

"Honestly, fuck your family."

You crack a smile and kiss her temple. "So charming."

She sits up enough to make you look at her. "I'm serious. Y/N, even if you have to sell the company, we'll do okay. I'll find a job, you can work as a lawyer in some law firm."

"I'll go from CEO to employee. Lovely."

She grasps your chin, eyebrows raised. "Hey."

You lift your hands. "Okay, okay. I get it."

"I'm just saying. As long as you're telling the truth, we'll be alright."

You nod, your throat suddenly feeling tighter. You should've had more faith in her, should've known she'd react like this. You pull her in and kiss her, one hand resting on her lower back.

"I picked the right girl, you know."

"Mhm?"

"Yeah." You smile softly, brushing your thumb over her cheek. She's leans in again, lips grazing yours, hand resting over your heart.

Maybe you will be alright.

. . .

— ŠIBENIK, CROATIA —

The ocean glitters in the sunlight. Birds chirp, cars drive by. A beach, concealed by a bunch of trees and basically empty. It's noon, which means that, at least according to locals, the sun is at its most aggressive — best to stay indoors for the next few hours.

It's not like Natasha cares about that, though. She's perched on the wooden table on the porch, a bowl of figs next to her, hair damp and tousled from the breeze. You join her outside and kiss her forehead.

"Hungry?"

"Filled up on figs", she says, hooking her index finger into the pocket of your shorts and tugging you closer. "What did you have in mind?"

"There's this restaurant in one of the surrounding areas", you say, leaning against the table. "A tiny one, but apparently really good. Freshest fish you'll ever eat."

"I think I've filled up on fish, too", she teases. "But sounds good."

"We don't have to. We can grab a bite at the bakery, if you want. The heat's kinda killing my appetite."

"Sounds even better." She puts her hand on your nape and pulls you into a kiss. Her fingers toy with the short hairs at the back of your neck.

Definitely figs. Their taste is all over her tongue. You step closer, put your hands on her waist, feel the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her tank top. Gone are the dresses and expensive blouses.

You deepen the kiss. Natasha tugs at you so you're standing between her legs. Her thighs are snug around your hips.

When she pulls away, the redness of your cheeks results from something that definitely isn't a sunburn. You exhale, lips twitching, and steal another kiss before she can notice.

You break the second kiss and cup her cheek. She's warm, and you're not sure if she's already developing a sunburn.

"You should go inside", you say, grabbing one of the figs and peeling it. "You heard our neighbor."

Natasha sighs and leans back on her hands, head lolling back. You bend down and kiss her knee.

"I mean it", you say. "Come on, we'll go swimming later."

Reluctantly, she slides off the table. She'd probably live outside if she could, and you don't blame her. The air is salty from the ocean and sweet from the fig trees, the sun is warm, the world seems at peace. It's so unlike your penthouse in Manhattan, and it only confirms that moving here for a while was a good idea.

Why stay in New York, anyway? Your company has been sold. You're currently unemployed, for the first time since you were 16. Staying in the US didn't make any sense. You don't regret coming here — you only regret not coming here sooner.

It's healing, that's what it is. You're not just married, but actually in a marriage now. She's not your wife, but your partner. Whatever you'd been doing wrong before has been fixed. And for the first time, there's no hurry. You're allowed to exist with her, in the same space, and don't have to worry about anything but the two of you anymore.

Inside, it's cold from the air conditioning. After being outside for over an hour, it's enough to give Natasha whiplash. You pull her into your side.

"Told you not to stay outside. It's too hot."

"And I told you to get sunshades."

Smiling faintly, you roll your eyes and let go once you reach the kitchen. You grab the empty bowl from her and watch the sticky residue of the figs away. You only notice how she's gotten closer when she wraps her arms around your middle, her front pressed against your back.

"I don't want to leave, you know."

"Mhm?"

"It's nice here. Nicer than New York." She kisses your shoulder, lips lingering. "Maybe we could stay a little longer."

You hum. You did buy the house for this specific reason — so you can stay as long as you please to, return whenever you like. You have the necessary money, too. And if Natasha wants to stay? You're staying.

"I like that", you say. Her hand slides under your shirt and splays out on your abs. "We'll stay, then. How long did you have in mind?"

"I don't know." Lips press against your neck, again and again, covering your skin in kisses. She nuzzles your shoulder. "Maybe until we get started on our family."

'Family' could mean anything. You don't need the specifics — you feel like you'll be happy with anything.

You're in this together, after all.

[cosmicporos]

What Arcane characters would gift you for Christmas!

Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Viktor, Jayce

(Semi crack Drabble… sorry for going super long with Viktor’s and Jayce’s HCs. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH)

(Jayce is Hispanic in my hc :3)

ENJOY AND HAVE FUN LOVE YALL<3

Not proofread

JINX

Hear me out… the first thing she would plan to gift you are decorated safety googles.

As a matter of fact everything she gifts you is handmade!

She knows you love to spend time with her when she’s in her workshop and the extra spare of googles she had were pretty crappy…

“Ugh, these old things? Pfft, they look like they’ve been through a freakin’ explosion… oh wait, they probably have! We gotta get you a new pair soon toots!”

They’d be totally decked out! Lots of character as she calls it.

“Okay toots check it out! Maximum protection but most importantly! They got style!”

The googles themselves would be in her classic style, very colorful paint, cute little heart scribbles all around! And of course lots of glitter….

“"I mean, you've got to stay safe while causing mayhem, right? And hey, if we're blowing stuff up together, you'll definitely need these. Plus, I made them perfectly for you. No one else will have goggles like these... trust me!"

I totally see her adding little handmade jewelry from her gears and spare parts, would totally make you a belt or choker out of spare bullets.

Vi

She would totally panic on what to get you for Christmas. Like what if you suddenly hate the thing you’ve loved since the very beginning she’s known you???

Would end up both buying and making you something!

She’s make you something small but meaningful

“Okay Okay fine! You can open mine now. Just don’t laugh too hard Cupcake…”

You’d open the poorly wrapped gift to uncover a bright pink scarf she knitted you! The stitching is a mess.. there a hole’s through the project (no doubt a missed stitch) but in all honesty it so cute you feel like your heart might explode.

"Yeah, I know I'm not, uh, the best at this kind of thing," she mutters, scratching the back of her neck, "but I figured you could use something to keep warm... and, you know, 'cause it's winter. And... you're important to me."

Guys please tell her she did an amazing job PLEASE.

She would also totally buy you a pair of combat boots! Totally saved up for months in advance.

She loves the idea of being able to match and have a bit of her style on you!

Ekko

Just like Jinx (sobs) he’d also make something for you!

The first thing he’d give you would be a little sketch book full of drawings of you from random moments throughout your relationship he remembers oh so clearly.

"I've been working on it for a while... It's... it's just a bunch of drawings. I mean, not just anything. Stuff that made me think of you. Stuff we've done, or things I hope we do. I don't know, it just felt like the best way to show how I feel about... well, us."

Okay he would also totally make you matching jewelry (matching clock hand necklaces?)

You’d force him to take the hour hand since it’s shorter (heheheh little man)

Once you explain your reasoning as to why he should take the smaller one he sighs disappointedly…

"Okay, okay, I get it," he finally says, a little less playful now, his voice softening. "I guess if you want me to wear it, I can..."

Then, a grin creeps back onto his face as he adds, "But don't think I'm letting you off the hook with the minute hand. You're wearing that one for sure." He places the hour hand necklace around his neck, the smaller pendant resting there, and looks up at you with that mischievous gleam in his eye.

He pauses, holding up his necklace, "I'm still the one with the bigger job. You'll just have to keep up." A proud smug smirk now rests on his face.

Viktor

FUCK WHERE DO I BEGIN I LOVE THIS MAN

o k a y. He would just like Vi panic… not because he doesn’t know what to get you but because he totally is going Christmas shopping late… very very late.

As much as I would love to say he’d make some little invention to make your day easier and give it to you for Christmas I don’t see it happening.

Not because he wouldn’t do it but because he already does it all the time! A little example, you’re late for work often? A little robot that hits you with a plastic squishy hammer every morning at 7 am waking you up when he can’t!

He’d definitely want to make Christmas special, I see him buying you something and then doing something special for you too!

Christmas morning would be greeted with warm hugs and kisses along with an even warmer bowl of potato soup!

He wanted to make sure he perfected his mother’s Bramboračka recipe. It was a once a year meal him and his mother shared every Christmas day.

He’s not a good cook by any means… but this is the one dish he can make and oh boy can he make it.

"Don't expect perfection," he says with a small, self-conscious smile, as you catch him sneaking a taste of the soup. Viktor looks up, his gaze softening. "I hope you like it," he says, and despite his usual perfectionism, there's a quiet pride in his voice. You take a sip, and the rich flavors of mushrooms, potatoes, and herbs immediately comfort you, just like his mother's love must've comforted him all those years ago.

OKAY for the making gift he planned I see him commissioning something due to the fact a lot of his inventions lack aesthetics.

Specifically I see him commissioning a music box that functions as a a jewelry box as well! He would have loved to make it himself but he was worried he wouldn’t have gotten the look right.

"Do you like it?" he asks, his voice softer than usual, as if he's worried about the reception. "I had it made... I thought... it might remind you of us."

The detail was breathtaking-floral patterns etched into the surface, with tiny gears and delicate metalwork accenting the edges. The craftsmanship was stunning, and you couldn't help but run your fingers over the smooth finish.

you lifted the lid, and a gentle, lilting melody began to play. It was slow and sweet, a tune that felt timeless, and as you stared at the tiny figurines inside, your breath caught.

His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his cane, his gaze flicking between you and the music box. "I commissioned it," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I had the craftsman use a sketch I made. It's how I see us... in my mind. How I feel when I hold you." He paused, his expression softening. "I thought... I thought you deserved something that would remind you of that. Of... how much you mean to me."

Jayce

Oh hon… Jayce would spoil you rotten.

I’m talking presents are overflowing underneath the tree.

You thought you lost your favorite piece of clothing? WRONG! He commissioned for more to be made in different colors and textures for you.

All the fragrances in the world he knew you would enjoy.

Cozy adorable pajamas we would give you Christmas morning so you could cuddle up drinking hot chocolate.

Spends Christmas Eve spoiling you and cuddling and being so tooth rottenly sweet.

It’s Christmas Eve, the scene was almost overwhelming. The living room looked like a perfectly curated holiday catalog-twinkling lights, a roaring fireplace, and, of course, an absurd number of gifts. Jayce sat cross-legged beside the tree, an excited grin lighting up his face as he handed you the first box. He had merely grinned, sheepish yet unrepentant. "What can I say? I got carried away?.”

"Open this one first," he urged, nearly vibrating with excitement. Inside was a bottle of an exquisite fragrance, the glass etched with delicate, swirling designs. It smelled divine-rich, warm, and entirely you.

"I figured you'd like that," he said eyes carefully watching everyone expression you make. You swear if he had a tail it would be swishing uncontrollably right now.

Christmas Day would be you spending Christmas day at his mother’s house!

(Listen I’m hc them as hispanic because for one HIS MOMS NAME HIS XIMENA… and two because why not :3 )

You have a great relationship with his Mother, she absolutely adores you and sees you as her daughter.

There’s lots of yummy food she’s prepared… perhaps too much for just 3 people?

Nonetheless, a pot of pozole, tamales de puerco and de dulce! And of course she made jayce’s favorite choco flan!

God she urges to to eat until you nearly pop! You have to undo your belt by the end of the night…

"Come, sit!" his mom insisted, pulling out a chair for you. "Jayce told me you've never had my tamales. That's a crime! Here, start with this." She placed one on your plate, her eyes twinkling.

Jayce sat beside you, his grin widening as you took your first bite. "Good, right?" he asked, nudging you playfully.

You could only nod, savoring the perfectly seasoned masa and tender filling.

Later in the evening, when everyone was too full to move, Jayce leaned over and slipped his hand into yours. His eyes were soft, his voice low as he said, "I'm glad you're here. This—" he gestured to the lively scene around you, "—feels perfect with you."

[beelanddiavolosimp-blog]

Let me cook some more

Sexy things I like about the side characters/ sexy things I think they do (minus Luke)

Diavolo

The way he just immediately drops everything to be with you wether its to f*ck or just generally hangout he's there

How big he is like dude. He's probably massive if he can contain Beel by himself

His back decorated in those royal gems like UGH GIVE IT TO ME

His laugh is both cute and sexy like do it again please

His muscles. They are big but not like oddly big just right and so so biteable

Barb

His hands. I can't really explain it but like him holding your hand to kiss then slowly pulling away dragging his fingers across your skin

His eyes they are so dominating and scary but also get very half lidded and even more pretty when he's flushed/ turned on

His need to please you. It's only natural since he's a butler so I feel he is such a service top

When he gets mad I feel like it wouldn't scare MC just turn them on because HELLO

Solomon

Idk why but I feel like his all black clothing is just so sexy like wear that outfit again please

He is teasing on purpose like whisper dirty things into your ear and make suggestive comments while trying to act innocent

He is very handsy. Standing still? His hands are on your hips. Sitting? His hands are on your thigh.

He loves to toy with you too especially around the brothers and idk it just makes me hot and bothered like he's smirking at the brothers while being all touchy like 'do something I dare you'

Simeon

He's also a massive begger and whiner as well but like it's so pretty that you want more

His back and stomach. Actually scratch that just any skin he shows. His outfits are so cunty yet I feel like if you touch the bare skin that's out he'd immediately blush

I feel like he's a switch so he has top tendencies as well and they come out unexpectedly like when he's irritated he will be like "come here." Like omfg

His face is just so pretty too and his hair like lemme pull on it 😈

13

She is VERY touchy. Constantly holding your hand or any part of your body saying it comforts her but she will subconsciously touch a little too close to sensitive areas and apologize yet continues

Her voice is so soothing yet sexy like imagine her flirting with you and slurring her words on purpose

Her stomach and thighs. They look so soft and pretty like can I please touch them?

Her tattoos. Need I say more?

Her eyes as well they are so pretty id stare into them for hours

Meso

His height. Having to look up to him or him leaning down to talk to you.

He is also very large but I feel like his hands are bigger than most but like that's damn okay with me

His attitude. It's the type of like fuck buddies who are always fighting. Not necessarily hate fuck more like play fighting fuck.

Raphael

His stomach. It's toned and a pretty tan I also feel he's sensitive there as well.

Since he doesn't show emotion enough I feel like once you get him going he is LOUD.

when he's a bit mean. Sometimes it annoys me other times it's attractive like hm~ is he like that in bed?

[icedout-pacemaker]

Loser twin older brothers who still live at home and have been in a rivalry with each other their entire lives that are possessive of their adopted black sister who they both fuck on a daily basis. I had plans to head to college and it was the first time I saw them actually collaborate with one another, determined to keep me home with them.

They said they wanted to have a celebratory night in, show me how to smoke weed for the first time. I agree, since I figure I'll probably end up doing it when I get to college. We hang out in my room, eating pizza, drinking soda, and smoking together. I cough the first few times but get the hang of it. It only takes four puffs before I start to feel it. They say I'm a lightweight but that it was a good thing, sitting on either side of me on the bed.

One of them brings the blunt to my lips, making take another puff. I tell them I don't need anymore but they just blow the smoke in my face, laughing when I cough. I don't realize my shirts are coming down until I feel one of their hands on the top of my thigh, pulling my panties off too. They're stuffed in my mouth, only a small bit hanging out of my full lips as they both take one of my tits, harshly kneading.

I can feel my pussy getting wet but I don't want them to know. But they know. They say they can smell how wet I am, blowing more smoke in my face. I try to move but they keep me in place, one of them kissing me while the other climbed down, getting in between my legs.

I set a timer on my phone. We switch after 20 minutes.

20 minutes..?

Whatever. Slide her down so I can get a good angle on her mouth.

One tug of my ankles and I'm flat on the bed, looking up at my brother's balls. He snatches the panties out of my mouth before he pulls his hips back, guiding my chin up as he slides in my mouth with his cock, bottoming out until he's at the back of my throat. I can feel my brother slide into my pussy, doing the same. They both hold, not moving.

Who's bigger? Me or him?

She can't talk with your cock in her mouth, idiot.

He pulls out in one hard movement. Watching me cough.

Who's bigger?

I can feel saliva on my lips, thinking about it before saying, "I don't know."

She's just being nice. She knows I'm bigger. She barely reacted when you slide in her mouth. You should've seen her feet when I bottomed out in her.

She's high as fuck, she doesn't know what she's talking about. She couldn't even talk for a second.

Bullshit. Watch.

He starts to pump into me. Fast and deep. I feel like I can feel every vein on his cock, every thrust feeling like the very first one. Desperate moans spill out of me, my tits bouncing as he ruts into my pussy, gripping my legs for the best angle.

My brother scowls, angling up before shoving his cock back in my mouth, picking up to the same pace. The movie from earlier enters its credits, only playing a light tune that is overtaken by the sounds of the both of them fucking me in a competitive rush to the end.

My eyes rolls back, soft sounds of pleasure leaking out of me as my body is vigorously fucked. They temper themselves well, stopping short when they're about to cum before starting up again. The timer rings, and they switch, as agreed. Somehow it is rougher, as if both of them have something to prove. As if it were paramount to prove that whatever I had been receiving before would not be as good as what it would be now.

They edge themselves. Thrusting. Stopping. Thrusting. Stopping. Has it been an hour? Why won't they just cum? Their grunts are louder. I know it is getting harder to hold back, but they continue. Brother looks back at brother with a smirk before looking back down on me, pushing his cock in deep as if staking his claim. I'm bottomed out on both ends, the both of them straining to hold back.

Why hadn't it been obvious? Whoever came first would be the "inferior" one. They were going to keep going to be the last one cumming. My body is on fire, numb yet wildly sensitive. My jaw slacks as I lay there, being used just three nights before I was meant to tour a potential college.

Thrust. Stop. Thrust. Stop. Thrust. Stop.

What time was it?

Thrust. Stop. Thrust. Stop. Thrust. Stop.

They had always used her like this. A fleshlight to show dominance towards one another.

Thrust. Stop. Thrust. Stop.

Had they even looked her in the eyes at all tonight?

Ugh!

It happens. He's buried deep in my pussy but I feel it spill into me, ending this contest of endurance. Brother groans in relief and slight pain, snatching my head forward and finishing at last.

They both fall flat on the bed, deflated. Brother is smirking despite his panting, I pant as well, a sloppy display of holes as my tits were glistening with my spit, my pussy wet and leaking. The three of use lay on my bed, spent.

I told you I was better. I win. I get to keep her.

Brother is too angry and tired to speak.

Brother rolls over, facing me.

He set the timer, but I set up the phone. All of that was recorded. And I'll send it to any school you apply to. You'll start sleeping in my room so mom and dad can still turn your room into their gym. Anyone who wants to fuck you has to have my permission. Including him.

Fuck you.

Brother just grins, running a hand over my cheek.

You're gonna stay here with us, sis. Forever.

[en-trashy]

Little love 이희승

Heeseung takes care of his baby alone, after some struggle his wife needs time away and he takes charge of everything.

Tw: slight suggestive almost nothing, fluff daddy Heeseung pure comfort in my opinion

6k words

It was never easy, it started without planning anything, back then Heeseung only felt how she drifted away from him, how she stopped answering or wanting to see him he waited until he couldn't take it anymore going to her apartment waiting in the rain for her to open she was coming back from the convenience store down the street when she saw him soaking wet and with an apologetic face, she quickly put her umbrella over both of them.

-I’m sorry- she looks at him confused not understanding why he was saying this- I'm sorry, I know I'm sometimes don't know when I fucked up, that I work until late night when you need me but I swear that I love you and nothing is more important to me than you're

-Hee I'm not angry with you- Heeseung always apologized for things that he even sometimes didn't knew made her upset, always wanting for her to feel loved and appreciated- let's go inside you're gonna catch cold, you left clothes here from last time

He just smiles following her letting her prepare a warm bath for both, undressing himself before help her do the same and getting both inside, his gentle hands started to caress her body, he was smiling giving kisses on her neck and shoulders so happy that she wasn't angry with him, but that relief lasted only a few minutes when she started to cry, he was petrified.

-did I hurt you? Sweetie, what's wrong?- her sobbing broke his heart and he thought only in the worst, what if someone harassed her, hurt her, what if it was him? He could never forget himself- I think I'm pregnant- Heeseung’s hands stopped completely shocked by the news, but then extreme happiness rushed all over his body.

-i'm gonna be a dad, we should definitely move together now for our baby- Heeseung back hugged her spilling some water kissing her neck with more passion- maybe we need a bigger space so he or her can grow happily and have their own room- he was blinded by the happiness that he almost didn't noticed how she cried more- what's wrong? You don't want the baby?- he felt a pinch of pain on his heart thinking about that possible escenario where she have an abortion, he could never push her to do something against her desires and even if he really wants this baby he won't pressure her to feel the same as him.

-you're not angry?

-why would I be? You want me to be angry?

-i I don't know… your career your dreams… I ruined things I should have take better care to avoid this- she cried harder scared of the future

-no, don't ever say that- he manhandled her to make her straddle him cupping her face and looking straight into her eyes- listen this and listen well… nothing in this world is more important to me than you, you're my dream, I can change career, job, house, the car, I can replace anything in this world but you, there's not a single person in the entire universe that can replace you, I don't love anyone else you're my true love I want you for the rest of my days- she was pouting looking at him Hee kissed her softly- and to be fair probably it's my fault that you're pregnant because I can't never have enough of you- he squeeze her butt shamelessly, pulling her closer to his body, feeling her naked breast on his chest making her squeak surprised

-stop now… this is serious I need you to think with your head not with your little friend

-we both know is anything but little- he wriggle his eyebrows

-you're impossible- she finally let out a sincere laugh, but soon enough her brows knit with worry- are you sure you want this baby?

- I want what you want princess, if you wanna keep the baby I'll be more than happy to be a dad, but if you don't I'll take you to a clinic- Heeseung kiss her forehead taking the body wash to help her clean her skin- since the first day we started to date I told you I was your slave that didn't change

- I don't know what I want yet

- we can figure it out together- Heeseung finished bathing both of them taking her out.

In the bedroom he started to dry her, playfully he started to touch an kiss her naked body until they ended up making love, he was so enchanted by her, reassuring her that everything will be alright, and she did believe that, how can it be wrong when everything feels safe inside his arms? The morning after that Heeseung woke up early to make breakfast for her putting extra effort to the best his cooking skills allowed him to, by the time she woke up the apartment smells like pancakes she could hear him cursing putting only a long t-shirt to cover herself, in the kitchen he was struggling flipping things in the pan making her laugh, seeing her genuine smile made him happy himself.

-good morning baby mama- he kissed her passionately

-good morning baby daddy- Heeseung blush hearing her- I just suspect that I'm pregnant the test is still on my purse ready to be done just that I'm afraid

-you want to do it together- she just nods and Heeseung takes her hand following her to the bathroom, waiting for her outside until he heard the gasp, he opened the door and found the pregnancy test with the two lines confirming his new dream come true- oh fuck we need to buy a crib a house, diapers, I'm gonna schedule an appointment for the doctor- Heeseung takes her face on his hands kissing her so passionately

- are we sure? I mean… you really want a baby?

-did you notice that I almost go out to yell everyone on the street that I'm gonna be a dad? - he said playfully and she let the worries go for now, he dropped to his knees pulling her close to him giving kisses on her belly- hi honey, it's your daddy, I found today that you're here and I can't wait to meet you, I love you, I love you so much you can't even imagine, please grow healthy mommy and I will wait for you

That melted her heart, hearing his usually carefree boyfriend to be so soft for a human being they both created, she felt safe and for the first time in the last couple days she didn't feel afraid of the future, Heeseung was there and will be for the rest of her life, she didn't have to worry.

The following months were a rollercoaster of emotions, Heeseung change completely his dream of being a singer, he left his group and was now dedicated to be a producer and songwriter for the same company, he move out of the dorms to buy a small house were they moved together, the appointments to the doctor, how she left her job as a barista when her bump was so prominent she couldn't do anything and had no other option but to take a break until the baby was born, the remodeling of the house the build up of the baby's room the small wedding they had, along with Heeseung's needy persona she didn't have a break, everything was pure happiness with small episodes of sadness, worries, emotional meltdowns, morning sickness, sore feet and back pain, but overall a constant feeling of safety, she felt it on her chest that warm every time Heeseung did something for the baby and her; then the actual labor, Heeseung cried for half an hour holding their new born, a beautiful baby boy, it was the most perfect human being Hee has ever seen.

-we made him- his tears didn't seem to stop while he carried the fragile body on his chest- can you believe that we did the most perfect little being

-don't cry Hee, he's gonna think you don't want him- she said extending her arm to wipe his tears, tearing herself seeing the scene in front of her

-never in life… daddy is so happy to finally be able to hold you my little Junghee

Things were smooth for as long as Heeseung had the paternity leave, when he have to be back at work she started to crumble down, little by little she started to feel bad about this whole thing, she didn't feel capable of taking care of herself much less another human, slowly her capacity to take care of them deteriorated, Heeseung was working extra hours because of a comeback of his ex members he was on recordings until late night sometimes coming home to find her crying while carrying their sleeping baby, he noticed how the dark circles under her eyes where prominent and noticeable, how her voice was strained of the constant crying, he knew it wasn't alright, trying to find another way to actually manage his work and family life. It was when Junghee turned 3 months old that he arrived around five in the afternoon only to find his wife curled up in a ball in bed

-sweetheart I'm home now, where's the baby- he looks around the room only seeing her, his thoughts always searching for the worst escenario

-I don't know, I can't anymore- he felt his body run cold, desperate to find his baby, but in that moment Junghee cried on his crib he ran to the baby's room quickly took him on his arms, bouncing him to pacify him, he quickly noticed the state of his son, he sighed preparing the bath for his baby cleaning him and removing his dirty diaper, he peaks at the room seeing his wife crying.

He started simple, bathing his son, changing his clothes and giving him a bottle until Junghee fell asleep he put his baby back in bed to go attend his wife, he prepared the tub for her too, making sure it's the way she likes it, back in the room he gently took her on his arms undressing her.

-let’s go sweetheart you're gonna take a bath and we'll go to the doctor

Y/n was unresponsive, letting him do anything to her crying some more feeling the lovin hands of Heeseung helping her to wash her hair, it's been days since the last time she did it, when he took her out Heeseung made sure to wrap her in the softest towel, combing her hair and dressing her up like a doll, he even put on her skincare and she couldn't help but to feel disgusted with herself, since Junghee was born she haven't take care of herself. Heeseung got her ready the diaper bag for them to go out, taking his son on his arms and his wife's hand to go to the car, he secured their baby on his chair in the back seat and also secured y/n on the passenger seat, he drives singing softly for both of them smiling at them until he parked outside the doctor, he made an emergency appointment knowing it wasn't normal the way she feels, he knows that motherhood is hard but not the point she's reaching now.

Doctor Min was a really kind and patience human, that's why he liked him and trusted him to take care of both his treasures, the doctor first examineded Junghee prescribing an ointment for the diaper rash he develop due the lack of constant changing, then y/n when she started to explain what she felt Heeseung feels his world crumbling down too, how he couldn't notice? Was that horrible as a husband and dad that he failed to notice?

-I truly love Junghee I'll never do something to hurt him on purpose…just that I can't…I don't know… I'm not ready… I'm a bad mom don't wanna be one- and she broke down there crying her soul in the doctor's office- I feel like he hates me because he knows I'm the worst can't even take care of myself much less him

The doctor listened and gave her a tissue to wipe her nose, Heeseung was bouncing Junghee to not wake him holding her hand to reassure her, he gave the prescription in bold letters on top it reads “postpartum depression” he indicated for her to take a break from taking care of the baby and pills to regulate her hormones and help her get through this, Hee stopped at the pharmacy on the way to their home buying what she needs, also stopping at her favorite place to have dinner, when Junghee woke up in the restaurant and started to complain her eyes immediately teared, Heeseung was fast and took a baby bottle from the bag feeding him.

-is okay princess see?, he just was hungry… you must be too choose whatever you like- he leans to kiss her temple

She let him love her and take care of both, even if she felt that pinch of guilty leaving all the responsibility on him, she ordered and took a few bites of her food, Heeseung started to hand feed her while eating himself and holding Junghee, smiling brightly and making silly conversation about something that happened on his work, even making her laugh a little.

-I think it would be beneficial for you to go on a break… your cousin Youngseo lives in Jeju and you haven't saw her in years, maybe you can go for a few days to clear your mind and your heart- he proposed still smiling

-but what about you? you don't wanna come?

-I have to work darling, also some alone time will help for your mental health

-Youngseo doesn't know how to take care of babies how am I going to make it alone if you stay here?- she started to panic but he hold her hand

-Junghee will stay with me, I'll take care of him

-but your work you have… you can't… I have to take care of my baby- he cups her cheek making her look at him

-princess you need to rest, what's happening to you is not something easy… I'll sort myself and work, besides I'm sure the members will be so happy to help me while I'm at the company… I haven't been fair with you I promised you that will be together to solve everything but I haven't been around that much… I can take care of my little boy while you take care of that beautiful brain of yours- he pulled her to kiss her lips softly

-what did I do to have you? To even deserve you?

-I don't know maybe being the most beautiful girl ever to lay your eyes on me even when I was a pathetic looser

-you were never pathetic

-but yes a loser… and now I look hot as a dad, don't you think little Hee?- he baby talked to their son- little Hee said yes very much- she looks at both with love on her eyes, she truly loves them just couldn't understand why she couldn't take care of her baby or herself

-i love you… just a couple days okay? And I promise I'll be fine- she leaned to kiss him

-take all the time you need, just come back to me

The next day in the afternoon he dropped her at the airport, saying their goodbyes, she was holding her baby hugging his tiny body and kissing the top of his head.

-I'm sorry I promise I love you… I'll be back to be the mommy you deserve- she gives her little son to Heeseung- please take care of him

-you offend me, you sound like I can't take care of my son- she looks at him judging her husband

-you didn't shower for three days because of a videogame I have reasons to doubt

-it was one time and before I even knew you were pregnant I changed, I'm a new man and this one is responsible of himself, his hot wife and his cute son- she giggles pulling him for a kiss

-please forgive me… I'll do things right when I come back… I love you

-you don't have to be sorry and I have nothing to forgive, I love you you're the only one that I care about… oh sorry no, the second one I care about- he looks at Junghee who is giving one of those baby smiles and babbling- he says that he loves you that he'll wait for you to be ready… now go or you gonna loose your flight

He kissed her one last time seeing her go, he hates the idea of letting her go, or be apart for longer than a work day, but he knows is the best for y/n and for Junghee, he stayed in the airport until he was sure the plane took off.

-just you and me now, I hope you trust daddy to take care of you- he got in the car securing his baby on his chair- listen you may think or be confused about why mommy left, well she wasn't at her best, but is not because she doesn't love you… in fact she loves you a lot sometimes I'm jealous because I meet her before you and I think she loves you more than me- Junghee giggle and Heeseung acted surprised- what? My own child laughing at me

He kept talking to Junghee when they arrived home, his baby was already sleeping, he took him to his crib, putting the baby monitor to start cleaning the house. How couldn't he notice the state of everything in their home? The big loads of undone laundry piling on the washing machine room, the almost empty pantry, the dirty dishes, he did everything he could accomplish before Junghee wakes up he almost finished with the laundry and vacuuming the house when the baby complained he quickly got there to hold him making him stop crying.

-oh so you like daddy's arms, well I still need to clean so you'll come with me

Heeseung searched for a video tutorial on how to use a baby carrier, to make sure Junghee will be safe while he does the housework, while his baby was in bed he was crying.

-i'm sorry, I'm doing my best okay? Just give me a second, are you hungry?- he checked twice that everything was secure before even putting Junghee on the carrier or take a step, once his baby was flushed to his chest the crying stopped- so you really like daddy's arms, do I have a little spoiled baby?- Junghee giggle and Heeseung couldn't help but to smile feeling warm all over his chest- so this is what love feels like? I felt it with your mom the first time I saw her, the same I feel with you right now- he looks at his son with deep love enchanted by him and how tiny and fragile he is, he does have the same Bambie eyes as him- so that's why your mommy tells me no to do those eyes I feel like I can do anything you ask me for

Heeseung spend solid 30 minutes just looking at his baby, caressing his soft hair and kissing his head, even hugging him and rocking him to soothe his complaining, it was until he realized about the time that he started to do the chores again hearing the babbling and baby talk even answering like if they're having a proper conversation, he was completely exhausted sitting on the couch with his baby drinking his bottle.

-my beautiful boy… are you enjoying being only with daddy? I'm enjoying very much being with you, don't let mommy hear me but I think you're the love of my life- he traced his little features with one finger, enjoying how soft his skin was looking at his Bambie eyes attentive of every move Heeseung makes

Heeseung was like an expert taking care of his little son, even if he relayed on his phone and YouTube tutorials to do things for Junghee, like washing his clothes on a separate laundry load how to apply lotion and make a baby massage to relax him and put him to sleep, he took the bassinet installing it on his room next to his bed.

-You'll be daddy's roommate until mommy comes back, to keep each other company even tho you have your own room… but I'm not used to be this lonely- he changed his onesie and rocked him to sleep before laying him down, only watching him with love eyes, Heeseung couldn't believe how eye-catching his son was.

He got himself comfortable sending y/n a message, wishing her good night and telling her how much he loves and misses her. The next morning he got up really early checking on his sleeping baby, grateful that he only woke up once hungry and for a diaper change, he showered with the baby monitor on the bathroom afraid that he might wake up and cry for being alone, as he learned yesterday he likes to be held, he got dress and even made quick breakfast and prepared a bag for the day, counting diapers and bottles when Junghee cried, but this time different more heartfelt, Hee quickly picked him up looking with worry at his son rocking him and patting his bottom, hearing his little sobs slowly changing to his regular breathing.

-what happen? Did you get scared? I'm sorry daddy didn't want to make you afraid, I was making my breakfast and yours too- his baby was cradle in his arms and he was swinging him softly he leaned to give him kisses on his hair.

Hee went to the baby's room to choose his clothes, Heeseung was so happy taking a shirt similar to one he owns looking for a matching outfit, he started to fill the baby tub to bath him, doing it with so much care making sure to hold Junghee tight enough, he never put that much of an effort to be soft with someone, he wrapped him on a towel only taping his body to dry his skin, Hee put him on the changer talking to him so he doesn't cry, once he was done he place him on the carrier to go take breakfast he gave a bottle for Junghee helping him burp after before even thinking in eat himself, he checked the time hurrying up to get on time for work.

-I didn't think that much what I'm gonna do with you, but I just know you're really well behaved you just like to be held all the time which is inconvenienti if I need to do something, but you also stay pretty well in your chair or whatever if I talk to you… guess you don't like to feel alone but I know you love daddy so much and that's why you're gonna be a good boy and behave at my office

He kissed his forehead starting to put things on his car, toys, the baby gym, the stroller everything just in case he needs something to entertain Junghee, he secured him on the car seat driving to his office, in the parking lot he found his ex members who came to say hi but we're astonished seeing his baby there too, the last time they saw Junghee was in hospital after he was born, surprised by how much he grow and overall how much he looks like Heeseung in a mini version.

-it’s definitely yours… don't miss understand I'll never put in doubt y/n but he's your copy… just much cuter- Jay said- can I hold him?- Heeseung nods giving authorization, he'll need a lot of help to take everything out from the car if he doesn't want to come up and down all those floors to the parking and to his studio.

Everyone took something to help, Jay was holding the baby careful with his head all of them went up and everything was smooth they helped put together the baby gym while Heeseung went to the cafeteria to ask for hot water to have in case his baby is hungry, when he came back he found everyone panicking giving toys to his crying son, he immediately frown.

-what did you do to my baby?

-nothing he just started cry- Sunoo said with embarrassment, Heeseung got close seeing his little son extend his tiny arms to him, he understood what happened, holding him to his chest and giving him a kiss on his hair

-you don't like your uncle's either only daddy… what am I gonna do with you?- Junghee stopped crying immediately like all those times when Hee holds him

-so he's a daddy's boy- Sunghoon looks at them with fondness

-also a mommy's boy, he just loves us way to much I like to think

-where’s y/n by the way?- Jungwon asked

-she's in Jeju, with her cousin it was a family matter and I'll be taking care of Junghee alone until she's back

The day was easy even with Junghee on the studio, his ex members went for periods of time to watch and play with the baby, even the staff, everyone was enamoured by how easy it was to be with him, how well behaved he was even when he was this tiny, by the time of his naps Heeseung improvised a bed on his sofa, putting the cushions so he can't roll and fall, he watches him sleep for sometime feeling inspired to write a song about this love he feels everytime he looks at his son, he worked on it for most of the afternoon until it was almost time to leave, Y/n called him, he answered happy to see her through the screen, she looked better, relaxed and at peace.

-hi gorgeous, how is everything going?

-hi… good I think I went to an spa today and for a walk at the beach… but- she stopped herself having this unsure feeling of share what's on her mind

-but… is okay you know you can tell me everything

-it's just I felt guilty that I'm enjoying here alone but I don't feel like this with my baby- her eyes fill out with tears

-no, don't do that to yourself… I know is not easy, but this is what you need, to relax to be alright for you and Junghee… also it's my fault too I left all the responsibility only to you- she shakes her head denying him

-you work so hard for us, I should be able to take care of him

-you work hard too… all the house work, Junghee, you… dealing with me is a lot sweetheart

-but…

-no more but… is okay to need time and space, we'll wait for you at home, besides we're also having a good time, he's a super star here at hybe, everyone come to see him do nothing just like now- he focused their little baby sleeping peacefully- I understand why they do I also just stare at him… I still can't believe we made the most perfect human

-you're not angry with me?

-no, why would I be?

-for everything I did

-what being hot? No darling that's not something to be angry for… giving me the most perfect little being? That's actually the best thing someone ever did for me… try so hard to do everything even when you weren't feeling well? That's something to admire… I'm so lucky to have you I could never be angry with you- she finally cried on the phone, but she was smiling

-i love you so much

-i love you too, keep having fun I'll see you in a couple days

The week pass, everyday with the same routine, Heeseung got so used to take care of Junghee that he couldn't imagine going to his studio without him, everyone else also was so used to see him carrying his baby that now people asked how's Junghee not him, he smiles knowing that his son stole everyone's heart with his calm demeanor and how he asked always for his dad, almost like if he wants to only be glued to Heeseung, his ex members constantly went to the studio to see his baby even taking gifts with them, from toys to baby clothes, he was spoiled there; even in the meetings Heeseung had to attend Junghee was there with his pacifier looking with Bambie eyes at everyone in the room, they made sure to not talk so harsh or yell to not upset him, everything seems to revolve around this tiny human and Heeseung feels so proud that it's his son the one everybody loves.

-what type of sorcery did your mom and I used to make you? Everyone is in love with you- he baby talked after the CEO went to check on his son, not him and the song he was producing- even my boss comes to see you and admire how cute you're

Heeseung took a break from his work to lay on the floor next to Junghee who is on his baby gym, he likes to play with him watching the new movements and sounds he makes, smiling when he babbles almost like replaying to the previous conversation. He took him on his arms and lay down with Junghee on top patting softly his back putting him to sleep, Hee did the same dozing off holding his baby and feeling complete like nothing in this world is important only this little moment, minutes later Jake arrived to see the baby but seeing the scene unfold he just snapped a pic and sent it to Heeseung with the caption I'll come back later, sweet dreams mini Hee.

When he woke up his baby was still sleeping he looks down at him kissing his head sitting carefully to not wake him, he saw the photo Jake sent putting it as his lock screen, he sent it also to y/n telling her how much he loves her, he got to work again holding Junghee in one arm cradling his body and using the other one to finish the sending of some files, he works in silence until the little complain made him look down, Junghee was slowly opening his eyes and when he focused properly first thing he saw was Heeseung smiling immediately melting complete his dad's heart.

-did you like it more to sleep with daddy?- the baby babbling came immediately- you did? You're so spoiled by daddy and you know that- the little giggle makes Heeseung smile wider- you enjoy having daddy wrap around your little finger don't you?- and like if he knew his tiny hand closed around Heeseung's finger making both giggle- yes you know and you enjoy every bit of it… guess what? mommy comes back tomorrow- the little scream of excitement melted him more- yes, she missed you so much

He video called his wife to let her see Junghee, since she haven't saw him everytime she calls he's already sleeping or playing with someone else, when she answered the strong wind of the beach and her telling them to wait makes Heeseung laugh, she went inside the cafe looking at his baby.

-hi my love- Junghee looks at the phone seeing his mom, trying to grab de screen babbling happily- you miss me? I miss you too- he babbles smiling and moving his feet excited- I wanna hold you and kiss you too… he looks so happy Hee, like he really loves me- she started to tear up

-he does loves you just like daddy does

-i miss you so much, both of you… being away only helped me to reaffirm how much you meant to me, how much I love having a family with you… that it was the right thing to keep the baby he makes me happy I was just afraid of hurting him or not being enough

-sweetheart if something I learned taking care of him is that he doesn't care he just likes to be with us, he already thinks you're the best- the happy babbling made her cry happy tears- see? He just said I love you mommy, you're the best- he focused his tiny face and just by seeing her he smiles and giggles melting her heart too

-i love you too my love, you're the most important being in my life, your dad is second

-i heard that but I'm not offended

-i talked with a psychologist here I think I wanna go to one regularly

-I’ll help you find one

-you don't think I'm overreacting right?

-you offend me again, I'll never think something like that

-you're the best that why I married you

-I though it was because of my looks and how good I'm in bed

-don't say stuff like that in front of Junghee- she blushed

-I was thinking that I wanna make another one, or just have the practice of making one- he wriggle his eyebrows

-you're like a horny teenager

-can you blame me, I haven't seen or feel my wife in days

-you still find me attractive? I saw my cousins in a bikini and she's just wow… I have tummy now and stretch marks

-yeah because you carried my baby there, you look so hot because your boobs did grew and now they're bigger… I'm imagining it and God I'm gonna have a problem in my pants- she blushed so intensely hearing how much he still desires her body, the one she sees with a lot of imperfections

-thank you

-for what? For loving my wife?- he huffs- no thank you for being this hot- she giggles like a teenager hearing her first love confess

- I love you

-I love you too sweetie… I was thinking that maybe you can go back to work at the café, maybe take a part time in the morning, I can bring Junghee here and take care while you work then you can come pick him up and I'll see you at home

-really? Can I?

-of course, you loved your job… this way we both take care of him, we both work, we have more money and weekends to go out like a family

-i'll consider it thank you… for being the best husband someone can ask for and for choosing me to be your wife and help me get through everything

-nothing to say thanks for I do it because I love you and my mini Hee

The next day he was waiting at the airport for her, with the Junghee on the carrier and he holding a sign “Heeseung's wife Junghee’s mommy” when she came down and spots them she ran to hug both of them, Heeseung holds her by the waist pulling her on his side to kiss her passionately, he didn't care who can see them or what they can think, he was so into the kiss that he only pulled apart when the babbling became little yells of excitement.

-Envious you don't want to share mommy with daddy- he laughed taking him out of the carrier so y/n can hold him

-my love how much I missed you- she kiss his head hearing his little giggle- I did missed you a lot- she hugs her tiny body crying

-don't cry he's gonna think you don't want him- he repeat the words she said when he crying when Junghee was born, wiping her tears

-never if he's the most precious thing that I have… then it's you- she smiles seeing him leaning to kiss her temple and Junghee's head

-let's go home you have to tell how your vacation went and I have to really bury my face on those titties- she gives him a smack on his shoulder, laughing

Heeseung wrapped his arm on her shoulders guiding her to their car happy to see her being herself again, to hear their baby happily reply to them and be so attached to them only, this was truly his dream come true.

Fin.

So there's baby fever in my family now, and I just couldn't help but to imagine Heeseung like this.

Also I activated my anon messages if you by any chance want to talk, thank you again little stranger for reading me.

[artssslut2]

Unexpected: Part 1

Art Donaldson x Pregnant!Reader

Prologue

Possible Warnings: talk of abortion

Disclaimer: I am 100% pro choice and the charectors I write are as well.

You sat on the floor of the bathroom in your dorm looking down at the pregnancy test you held in your hands. Positive. No way. You couldn’t be, you missed one pill like a month ago. You set the test down on the sink along with the five other ones you took that also said positive. You were hoping it was a false positive but it didn’t seem like it now.

“Fuck.” You whispered to yourself. You had no idea what you were going to do. You were eighteen, you were in college you were at the top of your class at Stanford’s nursing school. This cannot be happening to you. Then you thought about Art, you wanted to hate him because he did this to you. But you were the one who missed a pill, and you were certainly not resisting him. Not only was Art the best tennis player at school, he was your friend. Your best friend. You knew him forever, this would totally ruin your friendship. You laughed to yourself because your friendship was probably ruined the first time you hooked up. Surprisingly you weren’t panicked, not yet. You were a nurse failed positives happen, maybe something was wrong, you weren’t going to panic until you knew you were 100% pregnant.

You called one of your closest friends who was also in the nursing program, you needed an ultrasound.

“You think you’re pregnant?” She gasped, you nodded shamefully as she looked at you “what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know okay. Get rid of it. I have too. I don’t even know if I am pregnant though so do the damn ultrasound.” You whisper yelled while getting on the table and lifting your shirt. Your friend nodded with this look in her eye like she felt bad for you, you hated it. She moved the wand around slowly until you saw it

“There.” You said pointing at the grey dot on the screen “shit.” You let your head fall back on the bed. You saw it, now this was real. There was a baby inside of you. A baby that you made with your best friend. Your eyes filled with tears there were so many emotions going through you right now.

“Listen I think there’s a heartbeat” your friend said to you turning the volume up on the machine.

Thud…Thud…Thud

You listened to the sound of your baby’s heartbeat and you knew there was no way you could “get rid of it”.

“I’ll give you a minute” your friend said as you still stared at the screen.

Once you left, you went straight to Arts dorm room. Since he was a student athlete his room was much bigger than yours. It was also private, he didn’t have to share a room.

“Oh hey y/n. I didn’t know you were coming.” Art said opening the door looking happily surprised.

“We have to talk Art.” You came in looking serious

“Of course what’s up?” He asked sitting across from you. You suddenly forgot everything you were going to say. It was like everything was hitting you all at once. You broke down in tears and couldn’t get any words out

“Hey hey what’s wrong y/n?” Art rushed to you wrapping his big arms around you pushing some hair from your face, he kissed your forehead until you calmed down “whatever it is you can tell me I promise” he told you. You felt bad knowing the two words you were about to say would change the course of his entire life completely.

“I’m pregnant.” There was immediate silence, Arts mouth was open and his arms slowly dropped to his sides. It felt like a lifetime before he responded.

“I-Is it mine?” He stuttered going completely pale. You felt offended by his question, of course it was his, there was no one else and he knew that.

“Yes it’s yours.” You scoffed standing up clearly annoyed.

“I’m sorry it’s just… but… you said you were on the pill!” He panicked standing up, his voice came out sounding accusatory

“I am! I missed one! It was forever ago okay I didn’t-“ Art interrupted you before you could finish

“What?! How could you miss one? And not say anything? Oh my god y/n!” He said not yelling but getting close to it. Art had never yelled at you. You didn’t even think he could yell. It brought tears to your eyes again, you felt horrible and angry and just about every other emotion

“I’m sorry okay?! Do you think I wanted this Art! Fuck!” You cried sliding down his wall putting your head in your arms. Art was quiet. He felt guilt come over him for losing his cool. He knew that this wasn’t your fault it was just a mistake, and now your life was changing. He collected himself, he told himself he could think about his feelings later. Right now he had to be there for you, his best friend. He walked to you and sat next to you

“Come here, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry y/n/n” you fell into him, his arm came to your hair . You cried into his chest for a long time before looking up at him.

“This isn’t your fault y/n. It’s going to be okay. Whatever you decide.” He told you holding your face with one hand. He knew that you would think it was your own fault because that’s just how you were. But he was very equally to blame and he knew that.

“I saw it.” You blurted out between sobs

“What?” He questioned

“I saw the baby… I heard the heartbeat. I thought I could get rid of it but I can’t. I just I -I “

“Stop y/n. You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m going to support you no matter what okay? This isn’t just on you. If you wanna have the baby, then… we’re gonna be parents.” He slightly smiled looking at you. “We can figure it out together okay, I got you I promise” he whispered kissing your head. You didn’t say anything. You leaned into him again as a thank you, he knew what you meant. You were so thankful that he didn’t hate you or abandon you. This is why you loved him, this is why he is your person.

You and art sat on the floor for a while. You didn’t talk you both sat there in thought. Art carried you to his bed and layed you down, he brushed hair from your face and wrapped his arms around you spooning you. He would do anything for you. Just then he wanted to say it. He wanted to say that he loves you, that he has forever. But that wouldn’t have been fair to you, you were to stressed out. Secretly art was happy about the baby. Mabye now you two would finally become a couple. Art thought about what this could mean

“I got you. It’s okay.” He whispered, settling for that instead of I love you. For now at least.

[cuubism]

thinking about baby wish and how once she gets sick both hob and dream will 100% get TERRIFIED and very antsy due to their past with their own child :')

funny enough i already had a drabble kind of like this so i've gone and finished it up for you :)

-

Anyone who wants to rob Johanna should probably do a more subtle job of it than leaving the damn door to her flat cracked open for her to find. They’d tripped her wards, too—amateurs—making her scramble home in the middle of a job to catch them in the act.

She pushes the door open carefully, knife held in one hand. The light’s on in her kitchen, which gives her pause. Surely any burglar—especially one stealing magical artifacts—would get what they need and get out?

She really should have been less surprised to burst into the kitchen and find Hob leaning against the counter.

“Finally,” he says.

Johanna irritably puts the knife away. “Why are you in my house?”

“You weren’t answering my calls.”

“I was working. I can’t just drop everything to watch your strange baby.” She’s gotten roped into that a few times. Not a lot of reputable childcare around for supernatural infants, apparently. Not that Johanna counts as ‘reputable childcare’.

At least Dream pays well for it. And Jo’s grown fond of the little critter, to her chagrin.

Hob sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face, and finally Johanna takes a proper look at him.

He looks exhausted. Hair a mess, like he’s been running his hands through it, stubble coming in unevenly on his cheeks, clothes all wrinkled. When he drops his hands from his face again, he gives her a pleading look.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“Wish is sick,” Hob says. “I don’t— I don’t know what it is. She doesn’t normally get flus and things like that. She’s just… fading. She won’t wake up.”

Well, shit. “What does Dream have to say about it?”

“He’s been pushing power to her from the Dreaming to keep her stable while we try to figure it out,” Hob says, starting to pace across the kitchen, tugging on his hair, “but now he’s gone under too and I—”

“Hang on,” Jo exclaims, “you’ve been letting Dream drain the Dreaming?”

“You think I get to let Dream do anything?” Hob says, exasperated. “He does want he wants. In any case, we needed to buy time, but I think we’re out of it again. Will you help me or not? Because if not I need to find someone else who will.”

“I’ll help you,” Jo says, groaning internally. “If I can.”

If Dream is actually ill too then she has, unfortunately, at least some degree of responsibility to not let this become a repeat of the sleeping sickness. Besides which… she’s fond of Wish.

Hob looks so relieved that she feels bad for her reluctance. He’s practically vibrating as he helps her gather her things and then leads her, at speed, back across town to his home.

--

Once upstairs, they step quietly into the bedroom. Wish is asleep in her crib, cat plushie clutched in one hand. She’s gotten bigger since Jo last saw her, almost a proper toddler now. And she looks… alright? At least from afar. She’s sleeping very deeply though.

Dream, meanwhile, is slumped in bed like a dead man, one arm trailing down limply to the floor. His skin is even more pale than usual, forehead beaded with sweat. She shakes his shoulder and he doesn’t move. When Jo focuses, honing in with the Sight, she can make out a thin trail of power going from Dream’s hand to Wish’s.

Jo focuses on Wish. Takes her hand. She’s been working on her Sight, and she can sense now that whatever power Dream is funneling into Wish is just going straight through her and out into whatever is draining her. It may be keeping her stable but it’s primarily just getting burned up into nothingness.

Alright so they’ve got to stop that before Dream fucking kills himself because this is a bottomless pit. If they don’t interrupt it he’ll evaporate the Dreaming from the inside out.

“What he’s doing isn’t working,” she tells Hob. “Something’s draining any power he sends her.”

“Can you tell what?”

She can’t sense anything obvious. No malevolent presence. No connection to Wish’s power, other than Dream’s.

“I don’t know,” she says. “But Dream isn’t helping. I’m going to try to break the connection.”

Hob looks concerned, glancing between Wish and Dream, but doesn’t stop her.

Johanna gets out her chalk, and starts drawing an elaborate warding circle around Wish’s crib. It’s a bit of a tossup, honestly, on whether she’ll be able to combat Dream’s magic. He is, after all, Endless. But if she focuses on containing Wish, rather than fighting against Dream, she might just be able to do it.

Hob sits on the bed beside Dream, looking on anxiously, but giving her space. Johanna seals the final stroke of the warding circle, and—

—nothing obvious happens. But the connection between Dream and Wish, visible only with the Sight, slows to a trickle. She wasn’t able to break it completely, Dream’s power is too strong for that, but at least it’s not the flood that it was before.

“They didn’t wake up,” Hob says, clutching at Dream’s hand. “Shouldn’t Dream have woken up at least?”

“He’s probably weakened himself,” Jo says. “He won’t drain himself into nothing now, though.”

Hob looks down at Dream limp beside him. “Now that he’s connected with her power Dream might have been able to tell us how to fix it,” he says, hands twisting together anxiously. “Fuck I wish he would wake up.”

Dream jolts awake in bed, gasping for breath, eyes wild. Hob jumps in alarm, but quickly clutches at him, holding him steady. “Dream.”

Jo looks between Dream and Wish. “Shit.”

“What?” says Hob, jumping up as if to rush over to Wish, but hesitating between her and Dream.

“Her power…” Dream says, his voice still its low rumble, despite his evident exhaustion. “I felt it spike, before I woke.”

“She wished you awake,” Johanna says. “Or, technically Hob did. And Wish’s power made it happen. That’s got to be what’s draining her— all over the world people are wishing things all the time, and she’s granting them.”

“Isn’t that kind of her function?” Hob says.

“No,” says Dream. “Just as I shepherd dreams but do not make all of them manifest in the Waking world, Wish’s power carries wishes, but does not grant them. A few, she can make real—but to grant all wishes would destabilize reality.”

“She’s just a baby, how’s she supposed to know that?”

“Exactly,” says Jo. “It needs to be limited until she can learn how to limit it herself. If you’d like, I can—”

Dream’s eyes flash threateningly. “You dare to hinder my daughter’s power?”

“She clearly can’t control it!” Jo exclaims. “If you don’t put a limit on it, she’ll burn through it again.”

Dream looks murderous, but Hob lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I think Johanna’s right. It’s not like we’d let her run around the city without us either, is it? Kids have to have limits.”

That softens Dream’s expression into something that’s almost a smirk. “Like your leash.”

“Are you seriously one of those people that has a child leash?” Jo says to Hob, incredulous.

“My baby can fly!” he says indignantly. “Not all of us can just grow wings to chase after her.” He pokes Dream.

For a moment Johanna gets distracted by the image of Hob flying Wish like a balloon, but comes back to her senses. “Look,” she says to Dream, “I can put a ward around her if you want—”

“I will do it.” He stands, only slightly unsteady on his feet, and walks over to Wish’s crib. Hob follows him, keeping a hand braced low on his back to support him. Dream picks Wish up, cradling her in his arms. Smoothes a hand over her forehead and hair.

She really doesn’t look much worse for wear, other than still being asleep. Dream’s the one who looks like he got run over by a train. Nevertheless he sprinkles dream sand over her, letting it whirl around her in a big spiral.

“I do not have unilateral control over her function,” he says, “but I will tie her powers to mine again, so—”

“Didn’t we just learn that was a bad idea?” Jo says.

Dream casts her an irritated glance for the interruption. “So,” he continues, “I can use the Dreaming to corral her power and keep it contained around her. As I did before she was born. I will mind her, and be sure the use of her power is moderate.”

The dream sand fades away, and Dream runs his hand over Wish’s hair again. “Wake up, my love,” he says to her, much softer than the tone he’d used with Johanna. “You are alright now.”

She shifts in his arms, nose scrunching up, letting out a quiet whine as she finally opens her eyes. “Mama.”

Johanna still hasn’t figured out why Dream is “mama.” She has her suspicions but she definitely doesn’t want to think about Dream giving birth. Nope, not at all, definitely not.

Dream smiles down at Wish. “How are you feeling?”

Wish reaches up to touch his face, grabbing at his cheek. “Lotsa wishes, Mama.”

“Yes, very many wishes indeed,” says Dream. “Now, you must go to Dada, because your Mother is about to collapse.”

Hob swoops in to grab Wish just as Dream’s legs go out from under him. Johanna is left to catch Dream, and grabs him by the arm, hauling him back over to the bed. Dream collapses back onto the pillows, panting. God, he looks absolutely exhausted.

Hob props Wish on his hip and comes over to him, touching the back of his hand to Dream’s forehead even though Jo is pretty sure you can’t gauge an Endless’s wellbeing that way.

“It is fine, Hob,” Dream says, though it doesn’t look particularly fine. Nevertheless, they’ve solved the problem, so it probably will be fine, sooner or later, or so she hopes.

Wish reaches for Dream. “Stories, Mama?”

“Perhaps tomorrow night, my love,” Dream says, eyes already falling shut.

“Mama needs to take a nap,” says Hob, draping a blanket over Dream with his free hand. “We’ll go read the next chapter of our book, hm?”

“Book!” Wish agrees.

Hob leans down to kiss Dream’s forehead. Wish reaches out with grabby hands, so Hob holds her out to kiss Dream’s forehead, too. “Kiss!” she says.

It’s kind of sickeningly adorable. 

Johanna follows Hob out into the living room, feeling a bit whiplashed by all of it. Hob sets Wish down on the couch, then scrubs his hands over his face, taking a shuddering breath. For a moment, it seems like he might crumple, but he steels himself.

Johanna isn’t really good at this kind of thing, but she rests a hand on his arm. “She’s alright, Hob,” she says, attempting a comforting tone.

“Oh, I know, she’s probably forgotten it already.” He gives her a wan smile. “Not sure Wish was the one much bothered by all this in the first place.” 

Jo feels a pang of sympathy. If anything, Hob got the worst of it, witnessing it all without being able to do much of anything to help.

“Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” she says.

He nods. Meanwhile Wish reaches out her hands to Johanna, crawling towards the edge of the couch. “Auntie Jo!”

Johanna sets her back before she can fall, then shakes her hand solemnly. “Pleasure doing business with you, as always. Let’s hope you haven’t wished anyone the nuclear codes.”

“Nu-clee-ur,” Wish echoes, with surprisingly good pronunciation.

Hob pales. “Let’s not introduce the concept of bombs to my child who likes to play with the electrical sockets, please.”

Johanna just laughs. “Your problem for later, mate.”

She turns to leave, then hesitates. Goddammit, she is becoming so fucking soft.

She gives Hob a hug.

He freezes in surprise. Then wraps his arms around her in turn. “Thanks,” he whispers.

Johanna pats his back, then pulls away before it gets any more awkward. She waves to Wish on the couch. “Be good, Sparkle!”

Wish waves goodbye, and with that Johanna heads out to leave them to it—though she’s sure, with the rate things are going, it won’t be for long.

[violetmarkings]

Some unexpected 20 minutes | Lee Felix Smut

Genre: Smut (no plot)

Word count: 1150

Pairing: Felix x female reader

Warnings: Dom Felix (?) wet kisses, neck kissing, thigh fucking, finger sucking, lots of spit, Felix is a horndog, breastplay

Your friend's birthday party was tonight. You haven't seen her in a while, and you weren't that close by now, but out of courtesy you wanted to go. Felix, your boyfriend, being a famous idol like he was, unfortunately couldn't accompany you. He was lounging around the living room watching YouTube videos on the flatscreen while you were getting ready.

You chose a sexy pink dress for the party. It was a tight dress that complimented your body well, but it also had a very annoying zipper. You wanted to call Felix to help you, but last time you looked at him he was dozing off and you didn't want to wake him. As you tangled your hands around your back to get to the damn zipper, you let out a very unladylike curse word that was probably a bit louder than you anticipated.

The zipper was almost up when you heard shuffling behind you, and a very sleepy Felix with tousled hair remained frozen in the doorway.

"Oh, fuck." He said, his voice hoarse and low.

His lips were partially open as he was staring at you in disbelief. He was looking you up and down with absolutely no shame, a growing desperation sparkling in his eyes. He didn't have to tell you what he was thinking, I was completely obvious from the way he was devouring you with him eyes.

"How late do you think you can be to that party?" Felix asked you gently, with mischief. He stepped closer to you, his eyes dark and focused.

His hand cupped your jaw, warm, soft yet gentle in his own way. He wasn't holding you down, but his piercing eyes were arresting you to the spot.

"I don't want to be the last one arriving..." You mumbled to him, already under a spell, seeing his desire for you so clear on his features.

"Give me 20 minutes." He span you around so that you would be facing your full length mirror, his mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear. "Please." He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you into his warm body. You could physically feel his desire. "Am I allowed to?" He asked for consent, and you nodded.

"Yes, baby." You said with a sigh, and his hand grasped the zipper to slowly pull it down. Although it was so hard to pull up, it went down extremely smoothly, following the beautiful dips of your back.

The dress fell to the floor, and Felix left a bunch of wet, open mouthed kissed to your shoulders. Since he had no time to waste, he went straight to where you needed him, and you watched him as he began to rub your folds over your panties, up and down and up and down.

With his other hand he unclasped your bra, and you helped by throwing it across the room. His hands, small and cute as they were, grabbed a hold of your breast, making them feel infinitely bigger and sexier. He was lowly groaning in your ear, trying his hardest to not lewdly hump your backside as he watched your blissful face and listened to your breaths turn to moans.

Besides kneading and massaging, he was absolutely torturing your nipples, flicking and rubbing and gently squeezing them between his fingers. In the mirror you could see his freckles dusted upon his flushed face, looking like stars decorating a sunrise sky. He was out of breath, and growing impatient as he switched to rubbing tight circles on your clit.

Almost like in a dream, your panties hit the floor. Although he was in a hurry, he still took the time to pull apart your folds and look at them in the mirror, observing how you were shining like a goddess down where your sweet essence was dripping.

He separated briefly from you, taking off his shirt, his pants and underwear. Then he was glued to you again, his fingers presented in front of you.

"Wet them for me baby." He didn't need to do this, per se. But he knew you enjoyed sucking on his fingers, drooling all over them, feeling them press upon your tongue. You moaned, the vibrations making Felix visibly shudder behind you. "Spit in my hand. Yes, there you go." You did as you were told, and then he took your lips in a breathing-taking kiss. His lips were plump and fleshy, and with your previous actions spit was being spread all over his face, all over yours, and it was as if he can was trying to consume you, to intertwine souls with you.

Meanwhile, his wet hand began to jerk his hard cock, getting it lubricated. You thought he was preparing you for penetration, but it seems like you were wrong. Felix gently guided your thighs closed and sheathed himself between them, his cock snug between your folds. And just like that, he began to thrust forward softly, his hand coming to help, making sure the tip of his cock was pressed hard onto your clit.

Everything was so lewd, so loud and so wet. The stimulation was everywhere, and it was heavenly, and it was almost embarrassing how pent up he got you and just how fast he got you to the edge. Your empty hole was burning with pleasure, and he was intensity rubbing your clit every single time his tip would slide forward.

"Fel- mm, Felix, baby, ah I'm gonna cum."

"Go ahead, my sweet girl." He kissed your neck, so hard and so tender, and he kept his pace until he saw your eyes roll back into your head. You shook in his arms, moaned a broken moan that made Felix's stomach tingle. "I'm right behind you. I'm right there." He said, and it was hard to stand up on your feet in your post orgasm bliss (combined with some overstimulation) as Felix came, the poor mirror being soiled white.

Breathing extremely heavy, he held you and kissed your face while one hand gave him support by leaning on the wall. He was absolutely wrecked, you were hot and sticky and floating on a cloud.

A minute or two afterwards, in which you did nothing but give each other the cutest of kisses (which really didn't match with what just transpired) he left to grab a towel to clean you up.

You were embarrassed beyond belief seeing how his body was absolutely covered in your juices, how you came all over his cock.

"I'll go shower, baby. You have fun at your party." He giggled lowly.

"Wait! I need help with the zipper."

"Are you sure?" He wiggled his brows, and although the hurry of having to leave was kicking in, you almost didn't want to leave.

Needless to say, you arrived last at the party, and while everyone was talking and drinking, you were biting your lip so hard it stung. Flashes of the hottest quickie of your life kept occupying your mind, and you also happened to leave the party first. For completely unrelated reasons, of course.

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

© violetmarkings do not copy or repost

- Admin Starlight ⭐

[starlightsearches]

Yes, absolutely! So. Eddie x FemReader. They are best friends and have this special bond but all of a sudden Eddie pushes her aside for another girl he's dating or is interested in, letting her sit in the reader's seat, canceling traditions of years like movie night, etc. But somehow he wakes up and realizes he has been an ass to her (maybe because he actually wanted to get over his own feelings for her) but the reader isn't so quick to let it all go - she wants him to prove how sorry he is!

Jealousy, Jealousy

📼✨ mixtape milestone ✨📼 requests are open!

thanks for the request, bestie! and an even bigger thanks for your patience 😬 i hope you enjoy!

Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Comments likes and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think 💖

Warnings: mostly just language and a little drama and angst and then fluff I think but let me know if I missed anything. I've always wanted to play around with POV switches like this, which is probably why it's taken me so long to finish this one 🙄

You're fuming in the front seat.

Eddie keeps his eyes on the road—more than he probably ever has while driving—afraid that if he even glances in your direction all the smoke you're letting off will start to fog up the windshield. Like he's driving around with a forest fire in his van.

"Listen," he says, even though he's not sure what's going to come after, "it's not even a big deal."

They're the first words out of his mouth since he told you, and they're definitely the wrong ones. Your eyes flash, smoldering at the center like cigarette ends.

Your look may be fire, but your voice is all ice.

"To you."

"What?"

"It's not that big of a deal to you, Eddie," you tell him, shifting against the dirty leather seat like you can't even stand to be near him, "but it is a big deal to me."

Valerie fucking Reed—just thinking her name has you seeing blood. Everything about her puts the wrath of god in you, from the fake-ass pitch of her voice to the way she flips her hair over her shoulder whenever she thinks she's said something clever.

You'd hated her from the moment you'd met her, after the painfully cliche the freaks sit over there cafeteria routine she'd put on for you your very first day in Hawkins. You were more prepared for that shit now—had educated yourself in the art of biting comebacks and fought only with words even when you wanted nothing more than to bash her head into the linoleum tile.

But at a brand new school when you were desperate to make friends? Absolutely devastating.

If you were held at gunpoint and forced to say one honest, nice thing about her, there'd only be one you could offer up: it was her fault you'd met Eddie. With tears still stinging in your eyes, you'd carried your lunch tray in the direction of her pointed finger, falling into the nearest empty chair and tucking your chin into your chest so no one would see you cry.

That was when Eddie swooped in, big doe eyes and denim vest rattling with pins, and a thousand stupid jokes—not exactly a knight in shining armor but you'd never wanted one of those anyway.

Now Valerie wants to take him away from you, too.

Eddie drums his hands on the wheel, fidgeting with the volume on the tape he'd let you choose to soften the blow. He let's Fleetwood Mac fill the empty space between you, all the words he should say replaced with Stevie's soft vocals.

He's not used to fighting with you. Your friendship has always been as easy as breathing—except when it's not.

. . . But you really can't be blamed for that. It's not your fault he feels all weird inside every time you smile.

He wishes you'd smile at him now.

"You know," you say, feet planted on his dash and your chair pushed all the way back, "I didn't say shit when you started ditching me at lunch to deal to her and her friends, or when you skipped on movie nights for all those parties she threw because I get why you had to go, but a fucking date?"

"She just needs a place to smoke . . ." Eddie mumbles, skin hot at the word date.

You roll your eyes with enough bite he actually feels the sting.

"Right. She just needs to get high with you at your place, because she has nowhere else to go.”

Your lips drip with venomous sarcasm—absolutely soaked through with the belief that he couldn't possibly sit in the same room as Valerie and not touch her.

Do you really have so little faith in him? Eddie's got way more self-control than either of you would give him credit for. There's never been a moment he hasn't wanted his hands on you, and he's alone with you all the time.

“Come on,” he says, swallowing so his voice won't crack, “we do that.”

“It’s different," you snap back quickly.

Yeah it fucking is, he thinks, but Eddie doesn't say a word. Maybe the silence will speak for itself—or maybe it could, if you'd let it.

You carve a frustrated hand through your hair, staring him down. “Like, how do you think it would feel for you if I went out with fucking Jason Carver?"

He resists the urge to gag. "It's not like that."

It's really not like that. Just the thought of it has Eddie feeling both sick and violent, unsure if he was more likely to throw a punch or throw up.

He takes the turn into your driveway, watching you collect your stuff with a brutal speed.

"Yes it is, Eddie," you tell him as you slide from your seat before he's even fully hit the breaks, "actually, it's worse. Because Jason is a dick to everybody, and Valerie's got some fucking target on my back. I wouldn't be surprised if this was all part of some evil plan of hers to make me jealous because—"

You cut yourself off immediately, words stoppered by some invisible dam, eyes wide. Eddie's body goes cold when you slam the door without saying goodbye, stomping off to your doorstep.

He scrambles for his seat belt, practically falling out of the van in attempt to catch up to you before you get inside.

"Wait a second," Eddie says, holding the door open with his hand and trying to catch his breath, "why would that make you jealous?"

You scuff the toe of your boot against the step. "Nothing, it's stupid."

Eddie raises a brow, but you can’t look at his big, brown, beautiful eyes right now, tracing down along his leather sleeve to where his hand is planted against the door, black-painted nails splayed wide and already chipping, although you only did them a few nights ago.

Rude that the only time you get to hold him is when you're doing him a favor.

"Stupid how?" he asks.

You shrug. "I dunno . . . she just thinks I have a crush on you or something."

It's a surprise he hadn't already heard; about half of the girl's locker room were still stripping out of their gym clothes when Valerie had to bring everybody's attention to your black lace bra, before sharing a few theories on who you were wearing it for.

"Like I said, stupid." You ignore the heat in your cheeks, gripping the door again and trying to force it shut, but Eddie's not finished.

You wouldn’t notice, but his chest is heaving under his black t-shirt, palm sweating against the door. A crush? On him?

Is Valerie as delusional as he is?

"Wait," —his mouth is on a roll before his brain has caught up— "do- do you?"

Your eyes go wide with surprise, and then shrink into slits as you push him back from the door, one hot hand planted against his chest.

"Fuck you, Eddie," —he catches the words just before the slam— "fuck you for real."

It wasn't a no.

He repeats the words in his mind like he’s casting a protection spell. Like it’s some kind of ward against your anger as he scales the tree outside your window.

It’s harder than it looks, and he’s already making it look pretty difficult—but one hand’s busy clinging to the greasy paper bag packed full with burgers and those crispy tater tots you love. He manages to wiggle his way up to your window sill without losing his pants, even though the tears at his knees got caught on every twig and branch he passed.

Eddie steals a glance of you through the sheer curtains, holding back his fist from knocking. Just so he can look at you properly, without all the static of having you look back.

You're stretched out on your bed, feet in the air and headphones caught over your ears while you flip through the pages of a book. He hasn't seen these pajamas before—the little shorts that just cup the edge of your ass, and a sheer tank top. His nails are leaving little indents in his palm.

Eddie hasn't made a sound, but with the way his eyes are tracing over you, you gotta feel it. You find him at the window, and he panics, rapping his knuckles against the glass a second too late.

You roll you eyes at him, but at least you let him in.

There are honest-to-god butterflies in Eddie's stomach when he flops beside you on the bed. And he wouldn't lie—at least not to himself—but he'd tried to feel something like this before, when Valerie first started paying all that attention to him.

Her manicured hand would brush over the sleeve of his jacket while he'd be getting her product and he'd wait for this same feeling, hoping he had a weakness for all pretty girls, that any attention would him stumbling over his words and these feelings didn't have to be the end of the best friendship he'd ever had.

But it's you.

You cross your arms over your chest, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

Eddie's smile is sheepish, but not nearly apologetic enough for your taste. He holds up the paper bag in his hand, dotted with dark splotches where the grease leaked through. It lets out the heavenly scent of fried food.

"I brought dinner, you know, for movie night."

He slips a tray of tater tots from the bag, and you're resolve falters. You hold back your hand from reaching for one even though you already know how incredible it would taste, the little rivulets of salt and shining grease coating the golden skin.

"What about Valerie?" you ask, stealing your eyes away from the junk food. You hate how petulant your voice sounds.

He just shrugs, pouring out some ketchup onto the tray, licking the excess off of his pinky finger. "Told her I had other plans."

Eddie pops a tater tot into his mouth and bites down with a heavy crunch, but it feels like your heart's the thing being popped between his teeth.

And what more were you expecting? That he'd tell her to fuck off and take her money and friends with her? She's the queen of Hawkins, and you're . . . not.

Maybe you and Eddie are both delusional—or stubborn—enough to pretend like you don't care about the politics of high school, but people had abandoned their morals for less.

���So you blew both of us off, then?”

He pauses mid-bite, like a prey animal, like if he doesn’t move you can’t be mad at him.

“What?” he mumbles through a mouthful of chewed-up potatoes.

You snatch a tater tot from the tray, chewing and swallowing even though your stomach is starting to churn because something bad is going to happen and you can feel it coming like a storm in the air.

“Why are you here, Eddie?”

“I- uh, to say sorry,” he stutters.

The food's getting cold in his hands before you respond.

“What’re you sorry for?”

What’s he sorry for? Eddie has a whole list: sorry for making a fool of myself, sorry for hanging out with Valerie because I thought it might make you jealous, sorry sorry sorry for trying so hard to get over you and doing such a bad job at it.

“I, you know . . . I shouldn’t have made other plans on movie night.”

Those were the wrong words again. Crazy how easy it is for him to fuck this up—like it was something he was born with.

For a second, Eddie thinks you'll yell at him, and he's comforted by that. If you yell at him, you still care.

You take in a deep breath, and Eddie braces himself. He can take whatever you give him, will shoulder any insults you hurl and forgive you for it the second it's over.

But your shoulders slump. You let out a heavy sigh.

And he knows he can't take that.

"I'm really, really tired, Eddie," —you won't even look him in the eyes when you say it, sliding the window open again,—"see you tomorrow?"

But Eddie doesn't see you for two whole days.

That's a fucking record.

He thought you might need space, you know. So he gave you Saturday to cool off, kicked around at the trailer and gave Wayne vague answers about why you weren't around and ignoring the look in the old man's eyes. Listening to sad records and getting high and trying not to stare at your smile in all the photos plastered on his wall.

Sunday, Eddie drove by your house with the volume all the way up on your favorite Rolling Stones album, windows down while he idled at the curb. There was a twitch in the curtains, but you weren't there to shout at him for all the noise before climbing in on the passenger side.

Eddie knocked at your door this morning, hoping at least you’d want a ride to school. Your mom opened it with a sad little frown, telling him you’d already taken your bike.

And really, the two days have only ended on a technicality. Eddie sees you right now, reading a book with your head bent low, sitting at the far end of another table.

"Hey—" Eddie twitches when the flying french fry lands against his cheek with a wet slap— "are you gonna go talk to her, or did you just wanna stare?"

Mike laughs at his own joke, and the other guys giggles along.

Eddie's used to the ribbing. He's never minded it—when you're not around. Kind of enjoyed it a little. Even with his heated cheeks and stammered shut ups that completely gave him away, he needed somebody to acknowledge what he was feeling. It made it more real.

But Eddie's not in the mood for jokes today. And he doesn't need anybody to remind him that he's in way over his head with you.

He shoots the freshmen a look that works just as well as throwing a hand over their mouths—without the risk of being licked—and brushes the potato chunks from his hair while the rest of Hellfire pick timidly at their lunches.

And Eddie goes back to staring.

This time, though, you're staring back.

He meets your eyes. Just for a second, wide with surprise before you snap your head back in the direction of your book, tucking your nose between the pages. Doesn't matter how quick you were though. Eddie caught the look you were giving him.

And his heart is beating hard, like it did on the day he first met you. His limbs all staticky and weird, palms sweating because even from the first second he knew you existed he's wondered what kissing you would feel like and the question never left his head.

Eddie's on his feet before he can think about how bad of an idea this is.

"Hey," Dustin calls to him through a mouthful of square pizza, "what're you doing?"

Eddie just shrugs.

"Probably something stupid."

You can see Eddie's long legs moving in your direction from the corner of your eye, and your stomach drops out of your ass like a dip on a roller coaster in the dark and you can't see the end. He says something to the guys—his lips are moving—but you can't make it out over the sound of the cafeteria rumble, the chatter of the other girls sitting at the same table as you, talking animatedly about all the dates they went on over the weekend and completely ignoring your presence.

You dip your head closer to the pages of your book, so close all the words blur together, trying to hide from Eddie like you've been hiding the past few days. You shouldn't have even glanced in his direction, should have let the burn of his presence so close and still too far away swallow you up.

It’s getting hotter with every step he takes toward you, and you’re getting smaller, body tight and your lips caught between your teeth.

He slides quietly into the seat beside you, fingers drumming against the table, and the sound feels louder now that the girls have quieted down, not-so-sneakily listening in on whatever's about to go down between you and Eddie—hungry like sharks for any new gossip, ready to spread the nitty-gritty about why the freaks are fighting.

Eddie dips his head down, eyes big and already so sorry it feels like a punch to the gut.

"Hey," he whispers, trying to smile and failing miserably, "come here often?"

You try to smile back, but it's not much better. "Hey, Eds."

It's quiet, but not the comfortable kind of quiet you're used to around Eddie. It's a hot and sweaty quiet, a trapped-in-a-car kind of summer burn that makes your lungs go shallow.

Eddie perks up, the first words he can think of spilling out of his mouth.

"The guys were thinking about going to the record store after school. Would you wanna come?"

You wouldn't have thought for a second about refusing an invite like that a week ago. Heaven was nothing compared to wandering around a music store with Eddie.

"I don't know if I can today," you say instead, and then when you see the look of hurt on his face, you soften the blow with, "I gotta go to the library for some . . . stuff."

He hums. "Stuff?"

You shrug, playing with the pages of your book. If you're quiet enough, maybe he'll give up.

But he doesn't go anywhere. His hands stay planted on the table, silent and still for once. The black nail polish is almost completely chipped off his nails—probably picked off and littered all over the linoleum.

Eddie's voice is a whisper when he breaks the silence. "Are we gonna talk about it?"

"About what, Eds?"

"Why you're so mad at me . . ."

You've seen Eddie through a lot of shit, but you've never seen a look like this on him—eyes like saucers and brimming with shiny tears.

And you thought being in love with him was rough, but hurting him is a thousand times worse.

"I'm not mad at you, Eddie," you admit, hiding your eyes in the palms of your hands and pressing down until you see stars, "it's just . . ."

You don't get to finish your sentence.

Valerie's calling Eddie's name from across the whole fucking cafeteria. You watch her waving, standing on her tip-toes like she's not the only place in the room anybody can look, like every facet of her doesn't already scream give me attention!

Eddie sandwiches his lips together, pressing until they turn white. You're not going to like whatever he has to say next.

So you slip the dagger from his fingers, standing from the table. He can't hurt you if you hurt yourself first on his behalf.

"Actually, we can talk about this later," you tell him, slipping your bag on over your shoulder.

"Hey—"

There's sparks in your hand where he holds you, an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. It's just your hand in his, but that's all it takes for you to forget yourself, eyes caught on his soft mouth and pink tongue.

Valerie's approaching. You can see her stalking toward you over Eddie's shoulder. There's no room for vulnerability within a mile radius of her. You've got to get away before she sees all the softest parts of you exposed and decides to go for the jugular.

The door's within reach when the room goes quiet. Quiet enough Eddie doesn't even have to raise his voice when he says your name.

He's no stranger to standing on tables, but it's the first time you've seen him look so awkward, hands swinging at his sides in tight fists.

"I- I think I might be in love with you," Eddie says, "and I'm really, really sorry."

There's a chorus of ooooooooooohs from the audience, and maybe a few confused whispers from all the people who passively assumed you were already dating. Then all eyes are on you, waiting.

It's too fucking hot in this room, and your vision's starting to blur at the edges, feeling like you're on a stage and you can't remember the next line after Eddie's verbal punch to your gut.

You mumble a sound, falling backwards through the door and into the safety of the hallway.

Eddie's down off the table as soon as you disappear from the cafeteria, totally ignorant to the laughter and the jeers from all the dickheads watching.

Valerie's in his line of sight when he hits the ground.

"That was weird," she says, and Eddie can't tell if she's purposefully getting in his way, or if she's just got that aura of somebody who could tackle you to the ground but would never bother because she doesn't have to. "I mean I always knew she was a freak but—"

"Fuck off."

Eddie really would like to get into it more with her, maybe mention that he's been up-charging Valerie every time she mentioned your name, or that half the stuff he's been selling her was mixed with ten-year old spices from the cupboard above the oven.

There's more noise, but nobody else trying to get in his way, the path clear all the way to the door.

It's quiet in the hallway, and that alone leaves Eddie disoriented, swinging his head wildly, unsure which way you went.

"I'm down here."

You're on the floor a few feet away, head rested back against one of the lockers, and all of the bad shit goes away. It's that simple—like a light-switch—Eddie's panicked, and then he's not.

You're looking up at him with a soft kind of smile, despite the tight look in your eyes and sheen over your skin.

He slides down to the floor, long legs stretched out into the empty hall, shoes leaving little scuff marks across the linoleum.

"I'm sorry,"—you tell him as soon as he hits the ground, "about, you know. It was just, um, a lot."

"Don't be," he laughs, "that wasn't the smartest idea I've ever had."

The smartest idea he ever had was talking to you that first day, snatching you up before anybody else could.

Your tongue snakes out from between your lips, and Eddie has to physically hold himself back from tasting you. Your eyes dropped to his lap, your voice is small when you ask, "did you mean it?"

"Yeah, honey,"—probably should've kept the nickname to himself— "meant every word."

He's about to mumble something like, but if you don't feel the same it's totally fine, even though it definitely wouldn't be, when your head drops onto his shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know . . . just felt like a personal problem."

You laugh, and the sound shakes through him.

"I dunno, Eds. You being in love with me kinda sounds like something that I'd wanna know."

"I'll keep that in mind, for next time," he whispers. You're looking up at him with those big, soft eyes, breath pillowing against his face.

"It's the same for me," you tell him, "in case you were wondering."

In all the time Eddie's thought about kissing you, he never imagined it happening like this—on the floor with somebody's combination lock digging into his back. With your hands in his hair and the dull roar of the lunchroom somewhere nearby and his thumb tracing along your jaw and you smiling against his lips.

He was definitely missing out.

There's the metal clank of the door, and a chorus of footsteps somewhere down the hall. Eddie recognizes Dustin's voice.

"Oh my god, dude. Fucking finally."

[ackermonie]

in a perfect world, you and satoru would get married. you would move into a bigger house, big enough for megumi and tsumiki and yuji and nobara and all the kids you wish you could just hide from the cruelty of this world. you would even have children of your own, away from the gojo clan and their obsession of who is going to inherit the six eyes next.

you always dreamt of a big kitchen with lots of natural sunlight. somewhere far, far away, somewhere you can properly take care of satoru in the way he deserves.

sometimes if your mind drifts far enough, you could almost taste how that feels. you could almost feel the sun on your skin, hear the voices of innocent laughter and running feet echo through the warmth of your home…

but this isn't a perfect world.

in this world, you just happen to be staring at the face-down pregnancy test on the counter. you are bent over on the sink, elbows planted on the counter, and you let your chin hit your chest. breathing is an impossible task.

it’s cold, dull as the worst of knives.

october 31st. you were supposed to be getting ready for the impromptu Halloween party everyone just decided to throw. but once again, since this is far, far away from the world you wish you lived in, you're right here, in one of jujutsu tech's bathrooms with a ticking time bomb within a hand's reach.

"it's probably nothing," shoko puffs out the smoke in her lungs one last time before stomping on her cigarette. "you said you always use protection. I don't think either of you would joke around about something like this."

"my period is four fucking weeks late." you mutter out, yanking on your hair in frustration. "a whole month. this never happened before."

you've been trying to ignore it for weeks, convincing yourself it's just the stress of everything that's going on; it happened before. a couple of weeks and you'd wake up to your uterus being angry at you again, but your breasts grow sorer. you grow cranky and angry and emotional, but you discarded this as another symptom of stress.

four weeks is a little too long.

shoko is quite worried herself, but she can't join your little panic attack. she's the only one you decided to trust with this, and as nonchalant as she usually is, seeing you in such a situation stirred something inside her.

even more so when she has just received a text that summons all hands on deck in shibuya. a text she's sure you're yet to see. a text she shouldn't be showing you until this situation is handled first.

"let's just see it," she steps forwards, a hand on your back for comfort. "whatever the result is."

"i can't have a fucking baby right now."

shoko's hand raises to your nape, giving you a comforting squeeze. she bends down to your level. you look at her.

"we can always get rid of it."

something twists in your chest at the thought, but it seems that this could be the only possible solution for such a situation. you can even do it without telling satoru, since he's been quite busy recently. this would only burden him even more.

"yeah," you nod, looking back down at the sink again. the thought is still running in your brain as you straighten up. you run a hand down your face, shaking your head as if to shake away the anxiety, and you finally reach for the test.

shoko watches as you pause. your chest heaves as you attempt to take deeper breaths, and before she can blink one more time, the test is in your hands.

the bathroom door opens, grabbing only shoko's attention.

"apologies, ladies," nanami's deep voice seems to echo in the breathless bathroom. "we need to go." he takes a step in hesitantly, gaze switching from shoko to your stiff frame. "something is happening in shibuya."

his words fail to be registered by your brain for a while. it takes you all your might to keep standing.

"fuck," you let out breathily.

shoko reaches for the stick in your hand, her stomach twisting at the little + sign on display.

she sighs. "fuck."

"what the hell is going on?" nanami advances towards you two, unable to locate the source of stress in the bathroom until shoko turns around, test in hand.

he stops in his tracks.

"i'm pregnant."

==========================

more?

[actuallysaiyan]

Menage A Trois(Retsu Unohana x Fem!Reader x Kenpachi Zaraki)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, threesome, vaginal fingering, bodily fluids(squirting and cum), power dynamics, Retsu is calling the shots, slight mommy kink if you squint, breast/nipple play, pet names(good/bad boy, good girl), just a whole mess of sex and threesome goodness word count: 1.9k pairings: Retsu Unohana x Fem!Reader x Kenpachi Zaraki a/n: this has been in the works(aka I've been daydreaming this) since THAT episode of Bleach TYBW, and this is thanks for @yeowangies that it exists cause I think she helped gas me up enough to write it.

dividers: @adornedwithlight

taglist:  @cherryblossombankai, @Misty-angerose, @yeowangies,  @felixmr, @thissaintjessi, @kenpachisbrat @pixelcafe-network.

You’re not sure how you ended up being the little plaything to not only Captain Zaraki but also Captain Unohana. It’s sort of a mystery considering you don’t think you’re anywhere near the strongest nor the smartest, but you caught the attention of that pair. And while you usually spend a lot of time with Captain Zaraki as he has a voracious appetite, tonight Captain Unohana requested the both of you in her chambers. You know better than to refuse this request.

The last time the three of you were together, you needed a few days rest from the immense bliss and pleasure you were subjected to. You figure it’ll probably be something similar this time, and you have no complaints at all.

When you get to her chambers, you find Captain Zaraki there. He smirks at you, towering over you like he always does. He eagerly takes you into his arms, kissing you and caressing your body. You love the way he’s always kissing you like he could never get enough of you. Kenpachi is very hungry for you.

Retsu walks in, frowning a little when she sees how Kenpachi has basically attacked you with kisses. She clears her throat and he jumps away from you. You notice how Zaraki seems to only really respect her. You look at her with curiosity before she points at him.

“Didn’t I tell you to get on the bed with your clothes off? You aren’t supposed to be pawing her as soon as she walks in the door.” Retsu commands.

Kenpachi rolls his eyes, “I don’t need you to tell me what to do, woman!” You notice the obvious bulge in his pants growing even bigger now.

He gets on the bed, taking off his clothes and folding them in a haphazard pile. Then he lays down, showcasing that gorgeous body you’ve come to love. Retsu comes over and she begins to massage your shoulders. She leans in close to you, you can feel her warm breath on your neck.

“He’s still a brute with how he handles his sex drive,” she whispers in your ear. “But we can teach him a lesson.”

She ushers you over to the bed. Captain Unohana knows how to set the scene. She’s gentle with you, but a little more firm with Zaraki. She then begins to undress you in front of him, narrowing her eyes whenever he tries to get off the bed to touch you.

“What did I tell you, Zaraki? You have to pay attention to my commands.” She scolds him.

He’s growing more and more impatient with every bit of clothing she takes off of you. He begins to stroke his cock, getting himself even harder than before. Retsu laughs softly and she leans back in to whisper in your ear.

“Look what you do to him.” She says, making you shiver. Her hands are on your body, groping and kneading the tender flesh. “You make him hard like some horny boy who’s never had sex.”

This is when she pushes you onto the bed gently. She commands you to lay down on his chest on your back. Kenpachi grunts when he feels your soft, warm body pressed up against his. He can feel your warmth radiating off of you, dripping deep down into his soul. Then he reaches up to begin kneading your breasts. He begins to hump you a little. His cock presses against your plush ass.

“Did I say you could touch her?” Once again, Unohana is on his case.

Kenpachi growls, “I don’t need to be fucking told to touch her!” But you can tell this is turning him on.

Retsu gets on the bed with both of you. She looks at where Kenpachi’s cock is between your folds now. You’re just starting to get wet too. She leans in and begins to massage his heavy balls. It’s always been something she’s loved to do. He grunts in response, eager to feel even more of her soft but calloused hands.

“That’s my good boy,” she coos at him. He’s blushing now and tries to look away from her.

You feel her hands soothing up and down your body, making you shudder with pleasure. She looks up at you from her spot between both yours and Kenpachi’s thighs. She’s loving every single moment of this.

“Do you want to fuck her?” Unohana asks him.

He scoffs. “Of course I want to fuck her, what kind of damn question is that?”

He grunts when she squeezes his cock just a little. This is to remind him who’s actually in charge. He growls loudly once more, but then it turns into moans as she begins to stroke his cock. It twitches and leaks precum in her palm, making her sigh. You can barely take your eyes off of her. You love the way she’s commandeering this entire event.

“Look at that,” she coos softly. “Look how horny our good boy is.”

You can hear him grunting and trying to protest again, but it’s all for nothing. She starts jerking him off, hard and fast. Kenpachi moans and growls under you, pumping his hips in time with her carefully planned strokes. Soon he’s moaning that he’s cumming and she doesn’t quit. Ropes of thick, warm cum spurt out and cover your mound completely.

“Oh what a good boy. You made such good lube for our pretty little plaything.” Retsu says, smearing the cum all over your pussy.

You gasp when she begins to finger you. It’s warm and slippery with Kenpachi’s cum added to your already wet pussy. You whine as she begins pumping her two cum filled fingers into your cunt. Kenpachi begins touching you; he’s kneading your breasts and tugging on your nipples. When Retsu uses Kenpachi’s cum to lube your clit, you know you won’t be able to last much longer.

“Awhh you two are both so cute.” Retsu coos as she works you towards a messy orgasm. “Are you both ready to make me cum?”

You can barely answer. Kenpachi holds onto you, keeping you as steady as he can. When the waves come crashing down, he’s actually the one coaxing you through every part of this pleasure. Then you slowly come down, shuddering and panting. Retsu leans in to kiss you softly, then she brings her cum coated fingers to your mouth.

“Suck on them. Lick them clean.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You begin sucking off the mixed juices. Kenpachi is growing hard once more just from watching this lewd act. You feel his cock between your folds once more. Retsu then pulls her fingers from your mouth, smirking at you.

“Undress me. You first, Zaraki.” She commands.

Her voice is so hypnotic. It’s so entrancing. It makes your heart race whenever she gives you a command like this. Kenpachi helps you off his body, laying you down on the bed with care. You know he’s got deep feelings for you too, which makes you happy.

Then he’s kissing her softly, to which she doesn’t protest. Instead, you watch as she pulls him closer to herself as they kiss in a hungry way. His large hands begin to take off her clothes and he greedily touches her. He’s groping her body, showing her off in a way. You crawl closer to the pair, but you still wait patiently for her next command.

“What a good girl,” Retsu praises you. “Come here, undress me.”

You eagerly crawl over and undress her. Your hands are almost shaking as you pull down her bottoms. Kenpachi smirks at the way you’re reacting to everything. It’s almost cute for him to see you lusting after the previous Kenpachi. He’s seen you two together before, but it’s always so alluring to the big man.

“Kiss me.” 

As your lips collide with hers, you feel Zaraki’s hands on your body again. It feels like heaven to have him groping you in such a greedy way, just like he had with her. Soon, she’s pulling you on top of her, and your breasts press together.

“I think it’s time we let Zaraki use our holes, hm?”

“Y-yes, I want him.” You confess, making both of them find you so adorable.

Kenpachi positions himself between both of your thighs. He’s stroking himself, making himself so hard and lubing up his cock with precum. Then you gasp when you feel him spreading your cheeks and prodding your hole with the tip of his dick.

“Do it, make her scream.” Retsu commands and Kenpachi can’t hold back anymore.

You gasp as he begins stretching you out on his cock. Unohana brings you down to kiss her, allowing you to moan against her lips. Having her body under you to keep you grounded while Kenpachi begins to ram into you really is perfect. Her hands keep your cheeks spread, allowing Kenpachi to fuck even deeper into you. 

“That’s it, show this cute little plaything how good she’s got it with us,”

Her words are swirling in your mind as you struggle to stay lucid. The way Zaraki is pounding into you has you moaning like a bitch in heat. Retsu’s hands all over your body and then going back down to grip your ass cheeks has you steadily getting to your peak so fast.

“C-cumming!” You cry out, gritting your teeth.

Neither of them expected you to begin squirting all over them. She’s laughing and coaxing you through the pleasure, calling you her good girl. Your mind is swimming with pleasure and lust. Eventually, Kenpachi pushes into Retsu and she’s squealing with pleasure.

“Oh you bad boy! I never said I was ready!” She growls, but she’s loving the way he’s already reaching so deep inside of her.

Kenpachi leans in to kiss her, sandwiching you between their toned bodies. You’re still recovering from such an intense orgasm, and having them both pressed up against you has such a soothing effect on you. Retsu begins moaning his name, then she’s guiding you back into a desperate kiss.

“Go on! Cum on my cock!” Zaraki is the one commanding now. Something about this really seems to turn both you and Unohana on.

She’s kissing you much more hungrily now. Her hands on your body are groping a little harder, making you squirm under her grasp. Her voice sounds so angelic as she’s getting closer to cumming. And the cry she lets out when she reaches her peak is so erotic.

Kenpachi is not far behind, grunting and growling that he’s close. He pulls out just in time to cover your ass in his thick seed, then he slowly pushes it back into your pussy to finish some more inside of you. Retsu doesn’t make any comments now, instead helping you lay back on the bed.

They both fuss over cleaning you up, then she’s helping Kenpachi onto the bed. You’re between them both, as Kenpachi leans over to begin sucking on your nipple. Retsu runs her fingers through his wild hair.

“What a good boy. Next time, I want you finishing inside of me, okay?” She asks him, tugging on his hair.

Kenpachi moans, “Yes, I will be good for you. I’ll finish inside you next time.”

You close your eyes, relishing in the way Retsu is massaging your shoulders and Kenpachi is sucking on your nipples.

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

[alms4oblivion]

So my friend and I are currently OBSESSED in the eyes of a child it’s so fucking good props to you! But she wanted to know (and not so secretly so do I) if you have read any avatrice fics that you’d recommend for us. We’ve read through nearly all of yours and simply Korra’s stuff but we need something that’ll keep us busy while we wait for your updates! (Bridgeton AU is 20/10 hands down best fic ever just saying)

🥹 First of all, those are "make my whole day" compliments, so thank you so much. Like make me want to cry happy tears compliments.

Second, do I have any Avatrice fic recs? Do I have any Avatrice fic recs!? I think most of my original following were people who liked my fic recs, but I guess I've fallen out of the habit. Must mean it's finally time for me to make a massive fic rec post!

I'm going to start with hidden gems, and move in no particular order through different categories and authors, with the goal of more or less ending with fics that most people seeing this will have read, because they're among the most popular in the fandom. I've read...a LOT of fics, so this is really just scratching the surface, and I probably should make an SMAU section at some point, but this should be enough to get you started.

HIDDEN GEMS

Beyond Our Space and Starlight - so good and creative it should be a novel or TV show or something, but the world fits perfectly for Warrior Nun's cast and themes. Brilliant sci fi, incredible action and emotional depth, and the FLIRTING. A must-read hidden gem of the fandom (since you mentioned SK, you'll find her in the comments section if you look, talking about how incredible this fic is). It's technically AvaBeaLil, but the Lilith side is just tension and feelings through the first seven-chapter arc (which is what's currently published).

Casper (daisychiansandbowties) - a person rather than a fic, they are the best prose writer in the fandom, in my opinion. Their writing is dense, the subjects are diverse, but if you want to get knocked flat by a phrase, read them. Notable fics: chess tournament AU, Alien (1979 film) AU, Interview with a Vampire AU, Pokemon trainer Bea AU, Critical Role AU, 17776 AU, Star Wars video game AU, Napoleonic dragon riders AU. Note that if you absolutely cannot stomach AvaBeaLil, chess, Pokemon and 17776 are your safe bets.

SCP AU - Stormy has a lot of great fics, including tboy Ava, a great AvaLil (unusually with zero Beatrice romance), and a Dragon Age Inquisition AU, but this is the one for me, Ava is a subject at a secret research institute for unexplained phenomena and Beatrice is the researcher who's just been assigned to her.

Summer camp AU - LongWindedAnswer is too well known for this to be as under-read as it is, so I guess it goes here. Ava's got some serious chronic medical issues, they meet at summer camp, and we've got sweet camp hijinks followed by angsty stuff as they grow up with a happy ending.

Post-It Notes AU - I can't believe this has been out as long as it has and is as under-appreciated as it is. Starts funny crack, then turns poignantly beautiful.

ONE SHOTS

Lots of one-shots are hidden gems all their own, and a lot of these authors have written a LOT of them, so check the authors' other works as well! These are just my favorites, or one of my favorites, for each.

Dead mom recipes - a MUST READ, the framing device and the emotional tenor are too good (and jt also does phenomenal ficlets here on Tumblr).

Citadel of Immortal Daylight - reads like the beginning of something bigger, or the middle of it, in the best way. Ava is undead, Beatrice might be a vampire, in a city that hates both.

Dog and cat AU - I'm a sucker for creative premises and I think Sheep absolutely nailed this one (another standout from her is Religion, but she has so so many one shots).

60s small town AU - waitress Ava x photojournalist Bea. One shot is kind of a stretch, this is really a long, deep romance novella.

Wedding artist x wedding musician - omomoification is a guarantee of excellence. Read all their stuff, they have some truly fantastic one shots, including this one.

Blood; Orange - post-canon angst with a happy ending, dealing with the trauma of the Holy War. Collab between MsWitsEnd, Wyper (willowedhepatica), and LongWindedAnswer (whose name got taken off the author list when she temporarily hid her ao3 account). Fantastic piece.

Museum AU - Ava is the curator of program animals, Bea is curator of the Planetarium. Just adorable fluff.

Artist Bea x actress Ava - it's just really good. No spoilers, just read and enjoy.

sunday people - roommates AU where Sundays are for the girls, until Bea starts dating someone who isn't Ava. Jealousy and angst and humor (happy ending of course).

You're My One Regret - Ava is an actress who gives an interview about the one who got away in high school. People figure out she's talking about Beatrice.

MATURE ROMANCE

Leaves of an October Sky - mom!Ava meets married Bea, soulmates but without any of the common soul mates tropes, they just literally get reincarnated and always find each other. This is part of Noel's brilliant Mobius series, which is arguably better read in order, and you really should read them all (chem professors in particular is a classic), but I think this one is my favorite so far.

a little broken, a little new - exes to lovers romance on a road trip. Nothing fancy, just really nice relationship dynamics as they try to work through what went wrong the first time around and forgive.

Call the Midwife AU - 60s midwives AU, tremendous depth and sense of place and time in this one. Lots of tough topics with a nice mature slow burn, and a fantastic early setup.

MOSTLY FLUFF

Timely Suited - demisexual autistic Bea my beloved.

Bookstore x coffee shop AU - Bea works at a bookstore and is roommates with JC, who works at the coffee shop across the street. Beatrice and JC as besties agenda is in full effect. Fluffy and fun.

Coda - ballet dancer Bea x lighting designer Ava (ambulatory wheelchair user Ava too!). Really sweet, plus Adler did some great art for it.

Museum curator - slow burn where Ava is helping Bea with a museum event, but it's really them falling in love.

If You Missed the Mistletoe - autistic coded nerd Bea gets together with her childhood crush, Ava. All fluff.

Hook, Line, and Tinder - pop star Ava goes on Tinder and finds Bea, who thinks she's being catfished. Very fun and cute.

DEADLY ANGST

Liturgia - ongoing at present, incredible music stars AU where more established singer Ava and up and comer Bea fall for each other, but struggle to make things work without damaging the prospects of Beatrice's band. They both have emotional trauma. They hurt each other. It's fantastic.

Failed LDR - Ava and Beatrice broke up when Ava moved away, they meet again at Mary and Shannon's wedding and they're both still broken as hell. Super angsty, really good, still in progress, they're not together but they're in a relatively OK place at the moment.

Frankenstein - Mary Shelley AU, this goes under angst because of chapter 3, chapters 1 and 2 are smut and humor, but chapter 3 alone makes this, for my money, the saddest fic with a happy ending in the fandom. The dialogue and prose are sensational in this as well.

holier than thou - Ava and Beatrice went to boarding school together, and Bea broke Ava's heart (BADLY). The run into each other again years later on the streets of New York. Pretty fluffy by the very end, but it's very angsty for a while.

FANDOM CLASSICS

Would You Be My Wife - not fair to Pinechips to call this a classic because it came out pretty recently, but it became an almost instant classic, one of the most beloved fics in the fandom despite releasing well after the show's cancelation. Fake marriage AU, absolutely brilliant.

Do a Flip - sunsafe's super fluffy slow burn told almost entirely from the POV of Diego as Ava's friend from the orphanage who becomes more or less her kid brother/son, with occasional interludes to show the POVs of other observers. My go-to "feel better" fluff fic and a big inspiration for my decision to make In The Eyes Of A Child from Mira's POV. Technically part of a series (and technically incomplete, even though the story has everything it needs), read it all.

Love Thy Neighbor - first long-form fic I ever read, puppybusby's classic "will they or won't they" slow burn romance where Ava moves in down the hall from Beatrice with the help of her more or less adopted sister Lilith, only Beatrice thinks Ava and Lilith are together. Hijinks ensue.

Art Therapy - Beatrice is an art student, Ava is a model who becomes her muse. Intense, emotional, erotic, a must-read.

Death Doesn't Dream - sled dogs AU, one of the best meditations on grief in the fandom.

Lumberjack Beatrice AU - more or less what it says on the tin. It's really good. It has Beatrice as a sexy lumberjack. Ava moves in next door.

Just to Stop the Thoughts - chem professors AU from the Mobius series. Funny, cute, romantic, fluffy slow burn.

Order for Ava Silva - Bea is a delivery rider who always gets assigned to drop off food for Ava, for some reason.

choose the devil I know (over the heaven I don't) - firefighters AU, all about grief and trauma, very well written.

pull back the curtain for venus - Alien!Bea AU.

The thing about love - college AU where they pass each other in the morning and develop crushes on each other and don't realize they're neighbors who annoy each other through the wall.

Sublime - pro soccer AU. Super slow burn, the confession scene and its immediate aftermath are CLASSIC, absolutely hilarious, some of my favorite writing in the fandom.

The to do list - changed how I thought about confident Bea, big inspiration for how I approached the Practical Guide, Ava makes a list of things that she thinks might turn her on if a woman did them to her and wants Beatrice's help experimenting with her sexuality. Beatrice gets competitive with the hypothetical person who inspired Ava to think she might like women.

Your vows - best use of second person POV in the fandom, professional level framing. Bea is an airline heiress who meets Ava at airports. Trust me.

can i get your house key? - forever roommates AU. Absolutely love this one. Slowburn where they're so clearly in love, but who will make the first move when there's so much to risk? OK, that sounds like a lot of fics, but trust me that this elevates the tropes, and is a classic for a reason.

will you find me (after life) - ghost Ava AU. Beatrice, Lilith, and Camila move into a house that happens to be haunted. Sort of. You'll see. Adorable slow burn.

The trials and tribulations of Snapchat - college AU, fluff and smut and a hint of angst and jealousy where Ava and Beatrice get each other worked up with risque photos.

5 excuses and a confession - 5+1 fic of times Ava finds an excuse to kiss Beatrice and Beatrice can't take the hint. Tagged as fluff, but I think it's actually fairly angsty for most of it. Really, really good.

divine intervention - what if they had sex and acted like they weren't in love with each other and THEN caught feelings? Angsty and smutty, and technically incomplete, but the author got to the love confession so read it.

Lakehouse AU - Ava is finally coming back to visit and get Bea back when everyone goes to Lilith's lake house, except "everyone" includes Beatrice's new girlfriend whom no one told Ava about. Super angsty with a happy ending, absolutely love it.

Mastermind AU - established actress Bea x up and coming actress Ava. A must-read.

in my veins - arguably THE vampire Bea AU, certainly the most popular, and for good reason. Funny, sexy, dangerous, a huge amount of worldbuilding that mostly serves as an obstacle to Avatrice being together as often as they would like. Incomplete at 209,069 words, but they're together, so read it.

Wrong Number AU - Ava texts the wrong number. It's Beatrice. Things get cute.

To climb a tree - the second long-form fic I read. Personal trainer Beatrice tries to help Ava reach her goals for physicality after Ava regains mobility and finishes physical therapy. Very smutty, but also very sweet.

on the run from a losing game - if I was forced to go back and told I could only reach one Avatrice fic but I could pick which one, it would probably be this one. Chefs AU, and it's so, so good.

...is that enough to tide you over?

[archangeldyke-all]

ima sorry bm so drunk rn byt cannyou write smutty for coweboy sebika

hahaha of course, but only if you drink some water!!! one glass for every drink you've had please :)

men and minors dni

what was meant to be a family hunting trip quickly devolved into a 'the girls play in the river all day while you and sevika hunt' trip.

you're not really upset. you and sevika are enjoying the time alone in the wilderness, and you gave the girls a flare gun to shoot if they get into trouble.

neither of 'em need any hunting lessons anyways. they both love coming home with rabbits and squirrels over their shoulders-- you had to put a ban on any animals bigger than the average house cat when ten year old powder dragged home a forty pound doe. the four of you were up all night chopping up the deer and distributing the meat to your patrons and neighbors.

plus... you'll never complain about a little alone time with your wife.

she doesn't seem to be too upset about the girls bailing either, if the way she's smirking at you is any indication.

you're trying to ignore her, trying to focus on the fox at the end of your barrel-- but she's not making it easy.

you take a slow breath, steady your hands, and shoot-- only for the fox to dart away at the last second.

sevika chuckles. you curse.

"quit fuckin' doin' that!" you whine. she chuckles.

"doin' what, darlin'?"

"undressin' me with your eyes while i'm tryna get us a good pelt!"

she giggles, taking the gun out of your hand and wrapping her arms around your waist. "'s my duty as your wife to lust after you at all times." she says. you roll your eyes, trying to bite back your smile. "you look hot with a gun in your hands, all that focus in your eye."

"you're lucky you're rich, sev." you laugh. she raises an eyebrow at you.

"why's that?" she asks.

"we're supposed to be stockin' up for winter. so far all we got was that fish we shared last night." you say, chuckling. sevika giggles then shrugs again.

"you know the girl's probably got a whole pile of game waiting back at camp." she says. you laugh, she's probably right.

her hands are trailing slowly down your sides, the mischievous sparkle in her eye growing the closer she gets to groping your ass.

"and just what do you think you're doin'?"

"undressin' you with my hands this time, since you threw a fit when i was doin' it in my head?" she tries. you laugh, and she untucks your shirt. "well?" she asks, waiting for your permission before she gets you naked. you smile at her.

"gimmie a kiss." you demand. she grins, pressing a sweet, chaste peck against your lips. you hum. "just... make it quick. i really do wanna stock up the cellar before the first frost--"

she cuts you off with her lips on yours, and you lose your train of thought, melting into her arms and wrapping your hands around her neck.

she tastes like campfire and sweat and the handful of berries you'd foraged in the morning. she's intoxicating. her strong arms strip you fast-- not bothering to get you naked, just shoving your pants and underwear down, shoving your shirt up under your armpits.

"turn 'round." she grunts. you shiver at the commanding tone in her voice, and pull her down by her collar for one more kiss before following her instructions. she smacks your ass when you present it to her, chuckling when you jump. "fuck. wanna fuck you." she grunts. you chuckle.

"don't think we packed the equipment baby."

"don't care." it's all the warning you get before she claws your bare hips and starts grinding her clothed cunt against your ass. you gasp. "fuck." she grunts.

you bend a bit at the waist, both of you groaning at the friction the new angle gives you. one of sevika's hands trail up from your hips to fondle your tits. "feels good." you whimper.

sevika growls. "yeah?"

"yeah."

she starts thrusting against you, each one a little more aggressive than the last. each time your hips meet, you both let out little sighs.

"you're stainin' my pants, baby." she murmurs. you shiver again. "fuckin' love your cunt, honey. so pretty. so wet for me, huh? don' even gotta touch you, 'n i still got you makin' a mess." she smacks your ass again and you fall farther forward. she chuckles. "hold onto that tree, doll." she encourages.

you reach out and steady yourself, bent at a ninety degree angle now, your cunt on full display for her. for a few seconds, she just examines you, spreading your ass and marveling at the way your cunt clenches around nothing. you whine, pushing against her grip on you, and she snorts.

she lines her hips back against yours, and just when you think she's gonna start fucking you again, she hooks two of her thick fingers inside of you.

"sevika!" you squeal. she chuckles, then starts thrusting her hips in time with her fingers. "oh, fuck baby!"

"better?"

"yes, fuck, y' fuck me so good sev."

"yeah?" she moans. you nod, gasping as she hammers into you. "y' gonna cum?"

you can't answer, your face is pressed against the bark of the tree and you're too wrapped up in the pleasure between your thighs to think. sevika doesn't seem to care, though.

"love this fuckin' cunt, honey. 's always on my mind. 's fuckin soft--" she punctuates it with a hook of her fingers, pressing on your g-spot, "n' warm--" another press, "n' wet--" you let out a high pitched mewl, and sevika gets one more word out before you cum, "n tight--"

"sevika!" you wail. a few birds go flying, startled.

"oh fuck baby, there you go." she laughs as you start to cum and squirt around her fingers. she doesn't stop her thrusting, doesn't stop her assault on your g-spot, she fucks you until the pants gathered around your knees are soaked your thighs are trembling. you can feel your cum soaking into your socks when she finally pulls out, and you nearly collapse. "woah, doll." she laughs, wrapping her arms around your waist before you topple over. she helps you turn around in her arms, grinning at you when your eyes meet.

"f-fuck off." you sigh. sevika chuckles.

"i didn't even say anything!"

"i know that look in your eye."

"i was just gonna suggest i get you a clean pair of pants--"

"shut up!" you squeak. she laughs again, kissing your forehead as you bury your face against her shoulder in embarrassment.

"so hot when you do that." she grunts. you gently bite her shoulder and she chuckles. "c'mon. lets get you in dry pants, 'm serious. we're gonna have to walk a few more miles if we wanna find somethin'-- you scared everything within a two mile radius off when you came." she teases again. you groan, then sneak your hand up under your wife's shirt to pinch her nipple. she gasps. "ouch!"

"can't stand you."

"no, you can't. i make you way too weak in the knees." she says. you burst into laughter, then pinch her nipple again.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub