#I think his room would be tidy and not used very much

[byeolyeons]

the lovesick series | l.hc

pairing: lee haechan (nct) x gn! reader genre: domestic fluff, wc: ~2k summary: congrats! you and haechan have finally moved in together. unfortunately for him, he's got i-miss-you disease.

loving haechan is light. floorboards creaking in my home  deathly silence when alone  oh, i wish that you were here right now 

it had only been some hours since the early morning when you had left donghyuck's apartment, and yet when he pulls himself out of bed to brew a cup of coffee he finds the quiet thrum of traffic outside to be more unsettling than he expected. no sounds of that new anime you were keeping up with, no beeping of the kettle used to boil hot water for your tea, and no screaming at the game he had bought you just last week. 

he had finally given you a key and allowed you full access to his home, but the fuzzy feelings of sharing a living space for the first time were currently being overshadowed by your class and work schedules having you out most of the day. especially when his own schedule just wouldn't align, further complicating the matter. donghyuck moves to sit down on the couch, leaning forward to place his mug on the table in front of him. it's one you painted for him on an earlier date, covered in a soft yellow and adorned with a cute little bear. 

the wood of the floor groans under the weight of his left leg, the sound seeming louder than usual in the silence. he frowns. his place was by no means new, what with the student-on-a-budget deal, but it wasn't particularly worn down either. just another thing to add to the already long list of problems, donghyuck thinks. he'd definitely have to call it into the landlord later. 

pulling his phone from his pocket, donghyuck opts to scroll through his instagram feed. some stories in, one from you pops up. it's a video of him from last night, taken from behind on the very couch he's currently parked in. in it he can hear his own laughter, yelling at you due to the difficulty setting of the game being purposely cranked up so as to thwart him. there was an attempt, the caption reads, to which donghyuck chuckles. 

the coffee has long gone cold when he reaches for it again, the taste now unbearably bitter. donghyuck's expression furrows, and to some extent he can understand why you don't enjoy the pressed beans as much as he does. he sighs and his arm falls to his side. would anything not remind him of you right now? 

despite how much his heart yearns, begs him to dial the string of numbers now ingrained into the cells of his very fingertips, donghyuck is well aware that you probably wouldn't appreciate being called up in the middle of a lecture. so he resigns himself to tidying up around the room, taking care of the menial housekeeping tasks so you would at least have a clean space to return to. less mess, less stress. 

-

donghyuck curses himself when he wakes up from his post-cleaning nap to a few texts and a missed call from his beloved. 

4:37pm:

yo

what do u want from this place for dinner 

5:15pm:

hurry renjuns treating 

5:19pm

u suck

he shoots a quick message back, adding in a selfie of him still tucked into his sheets for good measure. if there's one thing you can't resist, it's when he softens himself for you. 

5:21pm

sorry my beloved i was napping 

donghyuck sighs and tosses the phone aside, getting up to start setting the table for your meal tonight. as he lays out the utensils, he finally hears the sound he's been waiting for all day. the pinlocks in the front door click, signalling your presence. the plates clatter from the abruptness of the silverware being dropped unceremoniously on top, the person having held them just seconds prior forgetting all about them. 

"i'm h—" you aren't even able to eke out the entire sentence before a large fuzzy bundle comes up and entirely envelopes you. the food nearly becomes the second victim of donghyuck's sudden assault. "careful of the bag!!" the bundle finally relents, head poking out of the blankets and looking at you with sparkling puppy dog eyes. 

"i missed you." it's a simple statement, and based on how it lacks his usual shit-eating grin you can tell he must've had a relatively uneventful day. so much for being off, i guess. unsure of how to respond right away you set the plastic bag to the side, the spot you can just barely reach on account of his tight grip, and quietly squeeze him back. the scent of his, no, your detergent now, is gentle on your nose. he smells like indubitably like home. 

"i missed you too. let's enjoy that-" you gesture at the sad little bag on the floor. "before it gets cold, yeah?" you can feel donghyuck nodding at your words by the way the fabric shifts against the side of your head, and he shuffles you both the few steps from your position so he can pick it up. seeing what's inside, he very visibly lights up. 

"this is... lowkey perfect for what i had in mind. wait here!" donghyuck breaks free from your hold, taking the initiative to whisk the food away. the blanket that enveloped you two gets tossed to the floor in front of the couch. you hear the chaos of him wrestling the cardboard take out boxes open, ceramic plate clinking, then the unmistakable beeps of the microwave before his head pops out from the kitchenette. "okay, come on in!" 

when you shuffle into the connected dining space, the first thing you notice is the lit candles that have been meticulously arranged on the table. they vary greatly in size, forming trios that frame a spaghetti filled dish in the center. two placemats and full cutlery sets sit side by side each other, testament to donghyuck's clinginess that had only gotten worse with your moving in. said donghyuck speeds over to a chair before you can even touch it, pulling it out for you to sit down. 

"m'lady." he teases, bunny teeth poking out in a smile. 

you laugh, slapping his shoulder. "thanks, milord." it's only after readjusting yourself in your seat that you notice a distinct lack of actual plates in front of you. there are only forks and knives, and a glasses for whatever drink you'll end up choosing. "hyuck," you call. "where are the plates?" 

turning your head, donghyuck is nowhere to be seen until suddenly he's making his way toward you from the living room hallway, playfully eyeing you up. when he had the time to move between the kitchenette and there, you have no clue. the smart bulbs dim, turning a warm yellowey-orange courtesy of the remote you know he's hiding in his pocket. "oh my, it seems i’ve broken them all. that's the last one we have… looks like we'll just have to share from that bowl!" 

sometimes, this man is just unbelievable. not wanting to ruin the little setup he has going on, however, you decide to play along and put a pout on your face. "damn... and i had so much fun picking them out when we went to ikea too. they were my favorite." knowing you, donghyuck is also well aware you're messing with him. but something about your faux sadness coupled with the way you look at him tugs at his heartstrings just the right way, and he can't help but cave. 

he pouts back. "is it so wrong to want to share a big ass bowl of pasta with my love, lady and the tramp style? wouldn't it be romantic to share a kiss over a noodle?" at the mention of the iconic scene he sighs dramatically, leaning against the table right next to you and draping the back of his hand over his forehead. you take his other hand in your own and lightly rub it with your thumbs, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles and looking innocently up at him. 

"okay, okay, there's your kiss. can we eat now? i know you probably haven't had anything besides coffee, and i'm hungry too." your show of affection seems to have the intended effect, as donghyuck immediately shuts up and seats himself at your side, pulling the "big ass bowl" to an appropriate distance in front of you both. "jeno recommended this place, so renjun used a company card to cover everyone's orders." you explain.

on a bad day, donghyuck might’ve raised an inquiry about your coworkers. but this is no bad day, far from it, and he knows better than to doubt the relationships you have with his friends. 

after twirling some of the noodles onto the fork and putting a bite in your mouth, a hand flies up to your cheek. you emit a sigh, noises fully content from just how good the food is. at this point, the man next to you hasn't made any sort of effort to shovel the pasta down the hatch like he normally might have. he simply looks at you with an unreadable expression plastered across his face, elbow propped up on the table and head resting in his hand. "are you okay? here, have some." 

you take up another forkful and offer it to donghyuck's lips, but he doesn't accept it right away. "thank you for being here. with me." the change in his teasing attitude from earlier is unsettling, but not uncomfortable. 

"it's not like i have anywhere else to come home to, you know. i do live here too." you joke, but it isn't met with donghyuck's typical banter. turning to him, you awkwardly cough when you see him staring right into your very core. "hyuck, you're scaring—"

he cuts you off, blurting his next words out. "i mean it. thank you for everything." the hand that isn't keeping his chin up reaches up to gently brush the side of your face, holding it with a tenderness that makes you melt into his touch. his thumb rubs at your cheek. "for bringing me food all the time. for moving in with me. for making my life so much better. everything just feels right having you here." you return the loving smile he aims at you, like a weapon of mass destruction. he could so easily destroy you with it. 

"there's no one else i'd rather share that kind of life of with." 

bonus:

it seems like donghyuck's returned to his normal self following your heartfelt exchange, and the heavy atmosphere has all but lifted. 

"say ahh!" your silly hyuck carefully feeds you some of the spaghetti, one of the noodles slipping off the fork. while you try to reel the rogue in, he uses his thumb to wipe away the excess sauce that finds its way onto the corners of your mouth. you're still unsuccessful in nabbing the whole thing when he takes a bite himself. though you don't immediately pick up on it, donghyuck ends up facing the same problem as you. 

more silence pervades the room as you two go to work on the pasta, and after about half a minute you want to punch the man in front of you in the throat because there's no way in hell he didn't do this shit on purpose. a single strand of spaghetti currently connects your lips, just as donghyuck had insinuated minutes prior. he makes a muffled noise of disbelief, as if he's appalled you're blaming him, but he doesn't let go of the noodle.  

rather, he quickly chews it up, closing the distance between you and him and giving you a small peck. his attention then shifts back to the food as if nothing had happened. you can feel yourself heating up out of embarrassment, cheeks glowing.

"HYUCK!"

as always, thank you for reading !! likes are nice, but comments and fellow brainrotting are always welcome :>

[esmedelacroix]

11 - Untouched

synopsis ! he’s an american football player by day and a passionate mathematician by night . she’s a well-rounded historian and writer who couldn’t evaluate a derivative to save her life . they lived in two different worlds but shared the same study room .

previous chapter | series masterlist

cw ! no use of y/n, y/n is _____, fluff, slow burn, college au, ooc sukuna, f!reader, child abuse/neglect, alcohol, angst, brief mention of self-harm, depressive tendencies, very suggestive, smut if you squint

fic radio ! Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae

Sukuna didn't walk back to his house like you thought he would. He took a seat on a nearby bench he was lucky wasn't occupied by some horny couple. He maybe sat there for thirty minutes belittling himself and picking apart your last interaction because, why the fuck did he do that?

What you said to him was even more intimate than simply saying, "I like you" or "I'm interested in you." It was a whole new level of romance that Ryomen wasn't ready for. He had a moment of panic; his brain short-circuited from pure shock, and he decided to cowardly say goodnight instead. Rubbing a tired hand down his face, he got up to leave.

He wanted to leave, but his feet felt like they weren't moving. His brain was urging him to get out of there, crawl into bed, and maybe skip class the next day, but his body was screaming at him to go to your dorm and confess that he felt the same way. He spent the entire night wondering if you were looking at him the way he thought you were, and it turned out you were. If the mutual fuck-me-eyes weren't obvious enough, Ryo also wasn't entirely ready to admit that his heart fluttered when he realized you didn't like pickles.

That memory alone was enough to push him forward, making him determined to silence whatever doubts were swirling in his mind. He would go to you, without hesitation. As he entered the building, people were leaving, each step fueling him. He climbed the stairs to your room, feeling a rush of urgency. The elevator would have taken too long, and he couldn't afford to wait any longer. He needed to see you now.

You, on the other hand, were back in your room, wearing a face mask and hydrating your skin, trying not to think about what had happened just an hour ago. As you cracked open a Diet Pepsi, you heard a knock at your door. This wasn’t uncommon at any hour since you were an RA, but you hoped it was Suguru, so you could have some company while you tried to manage your sanity. You rushed to the door, certain it would be either Geto or a confused freshman. You never would have expected to find 195 centimeters of Sukuna standing there.

His eyes instinctively roamed up and down your body, taking in that you were only wearing extremely short, low-waisted shorts and a tube top that could easily be mistaken for a bra. It didn't help that you had a towel wrapped around your hair and a face mask on. "Hold on," you squeaked, slamming the door in shock.

Quickly, you grabbed a random T-shirt off the ground and put it on after removing your tube top. You took off your face mask, applied some moisturizer, and tidied up as much as you could. After a few minutes, you opened the door again and stepped aside for him to come in. You sat on your bed while Sukuna took a seat in your desk chair, trying not to stare at the exposed skin on your legs. He glanced around, taking in the view of your room, which was definitely not what he expected. There were trinkets, Polaroids, and mementos everywhere. It was colorful—a kind of room that would leave anyone guessing what your favorite color was.

His gaze fell on the bear you were currently hugging for comfort, and a small smile appeared on his face. He looked closer at the Polaroids and saw pictures of you and your friends. His eyes lingered on one in particular, where you and Suguru were embracing. You were smiling at the camera while he was kissing your cheek. Sukuna often felt bothered by your relationship with Suguru; he could never quite tell if you two were just friends or if you had deeper feelings for each other and were simply trying to avoid ruining your friend group. "It's late, and I have class tomorrow," you said, breaking the moment.

“You were going to spend all night studying anyway.” He was right.

“Why are you here? I thought you had gone back,” you trailed off, looking at the ground. Sukuna paused for a moment before saying, “I um—I like the way you look at me too.”

He sat there, waiting for an answer. After what felt like an eternity (it was like ten seconds), you looked up at him. You wore that same hopeless expression in your eyes that you had when you confessed to him in your own way. “How do I look at you?”

“The way I look at you,” Ryomen answered.

“And how is that?”

“Like, if I can’t ever just look at you, I need to memorize the way you look. Like I want to burn the image of your face into my brain until it’s the only thing I can think of. Like, I need to see you and look at you as much as I can because I’ve been waiting these past three years to muster up the courage to even speak to you,” he revealed.

All you could do was stare at him, your mouth slightly open. You felt more shocked with each word that fell from his lips. "Ryomen," you stumbled, unable to say anything else.

“You don’t need to say anything; I just wanted you to know,” he reassured.

“No, I feel the same,” you confessed.

You both stared at each other. Neither of you looked away this time. You didn’t have to. You had already stripped each other bare. “So, what now?” you asked awkwardly.

“I don’t know,” he answered.

"We don’t need to know. We can just exist together and see where that takes us," you suggested. You knew what you were saying didn’t make much sense; you were too dumbfounded. It felt like you had been climbing to the top of a roller coaster all night, and when it finally went downhill, you felt scared and panicked.

“Well um, I have an early morning and you probably have things to do, so we can talk tomorrow,” you said.

“Yeah, we’ll talk tomorow,” he said getting up. “Nice shirt by the way,” he smirked nodding at you before waving goodbye and leaving.

You looked down and realized you were wearing Sukuna’s Guns N' Roses T-shirt that you never returned.

Upon returning to his house, Sukuna headed directly to Toji’s room. "Hey, man," he said, trying to hide his excitement.

His face appeared completely serious, but Toji could tell that by the way he said “Dude,” he was over the moon.

“What? What’s up? Tell me,” Toji urged, setting down his headset. He ended his game and walked straight to the bed where Sukuna was already lying on his stomach, kicking his feet. Everyone except for Toji and Sukuna noticed how the two large men often acted like teenage girls.

“Tell you what?” Gojo’s nosy ass peeked into the room and climbed onto the bed too. “I just went to the library with _____, right? And the whole time we were just staring at each other. We weren’t talking, but there was definitely a vibe,” he started.

Gojo and Toji started howling, whistling, and shoving Sukuna's shoulder. "Then what? Then what?" Todo asked, bursting through the door because, of course, he was eavesdropping.

He jumped onto the bed, provoking a chorus of moans and "C'mons," and honestly, no one really fit there anymore.

“Then we went to Sal’s for a snack, and she got fried pickles.”

“Ew, that's so her, she loves that shit,” Gojo spat.

“But, I ate them. Out of respect, you know?”

“Yuck.” Gojo interjected.

“But then get this, she thought it was funny ‘cause she actually remembered that I hate pickles. It was like a cute little prank,” he mused.

Toji rolled his eyes because she knew if he ever tried to pull that shit, he would get cussed out and maybe bitch slapped. But it was just more proof that his best friend was in love.

"And then we went to her dorm, and before she walked in, she said, [in Sukuna’s high-pitched rendition of your voice], ‘I like the way you look at me’,” henearly squealed, and the guys borderline giggled, giving each other dap and cheering.

“I didn’t think I’d see the day that Sukuna actually liked a girl here. Good work, man,” Todo sighed, getting up and stretching, clapping him on the back.

Gojo got up as well, “My group chat is blowing up; got to go!”

Toji and Sukuna lay on the bed in silence for a while. “That’s how frat guys are. Once you get the girl to like you, they don’t care about what happens next. What do you end up saying?” Toji asked.

“Well, that’s the thing; I didn’t say shit. I sat on the bench outside her dorm building for a while,” he admitted.

“The cum bench? Yuck, dude,” Toji chuckled.

“It’s actually called that?” Sukuna questioned in disbelief.

“Yeah, they say so much cum has leaked into the bench, that it’s starting to mold. Some girls even sit on it for fertility and shit,” he explained.

“Who the hell would want to be fertile in collage?”

“I don’t know, education majors? Stop distracting me is that all you did?”

“No, I went up to her dorm after a while, and when I opened the door. Her room smelled like fuckin’ cinnamon and cookies. And she was like fresh outta the shower. I could smell her hair and I wasn’t even that close to her,” you excitedly started he sat up and continued, “When she let me in and I walked past her she smelled like a bakery. Her skin looked so soft and her face looked so bright because she had a sheet mask on,” he explained lying back down stuffing his head into pillow.

Toji looked at him dumbfounded. He watched the way his eyes lit up. He couldn’t help but crack a smile. He was getting to see a whole new side of his best friend. Ryomen Sukuna was head over heels for a girl.

“And she was wearing this top with no sleeves when she opened the door. And these shorts that made her ass look unreal,” he blabbered almost in a daze.

“Alright dude, I don’t need to know about that,” Toji interrupted.

“No, but then she changed and she was wearing my Guns N’ Roses T-shirt. It was so huge on her; like at breakfast,” he recalled, stuffing his flushed face into the pillows again.

Toji couldn’t believe his eyes. This man who could take down anyone on the field, barely fit on the bed, and had tatts all over his body, was acting like girl in a romcom over you.

“Then, I told her that I like the way she looks at me too and other stuff you don’t need to know,” Sukuna finally finished smiling back at the memory.

Toji smiled to himself. “I’m happy for you man. Seriously,” Toji smiled, “Now get the hell out of here. It’s late as fuck.”

. . .

The rest of the week went by well. You and Sukuna exchanged greetings in the halls, Sal’s, and in class. You would study together in the library and Sukuna learned a lot more about you then.

He learned that your escape in high school was the yearbook club. That was how you discovered your love for being a sports spectator. It didn’t matter what sport you were observing, you could watch it, understand the rules like you play said sport, then write expertly about it. He was shocked by your football knowledge, even offered to let you coach the team.

Things went well for the next few weeks. Nothing too romantic but you were getting to know each other a lot better. Weeks turned into a month and now you found yourself at the last game of Sukuna’s college career before the spring NFL draft.

You were wearing some cropped school merch and a pair of jeans. Were you cold? Yes. Did you look and feel incredibly hot and sexy. Also yes.

You took your seat next to Suguru and passed him his popcorn. “Thanks, I owe you one,” he smiled looking to the bench. Gojo was being his usual self, hyping the team up and doing dumb shit. It was like the college-level Super Bowl. Ohio State was playing Notre Dame and no one really knew what the outcome would be.

As the game went on, feelings and tensions were high. The team flip-flopped from leading, to being behind a few points, to looking like they were going to lose the whole thing. For the first quarter, Sukuna was benched trying to conserve his hand he had hurt a week prior.

The crowd, coaches, and players were scared because they had no idea how Sukuna was going to manage. He proved those concerns incorrect as he was still leading and commanding his army of teammates from the bench.

Still, without their leader being there on the field the team wasn’t fully connecting the way they needed to. When they put Sukuna in they were gaining some momentum but still weren’t playing to their full potential. At half time the team slouched on the benches with towels over their heads and their heads either hanging low or in their hands.

That was until Gojo started being his usual self even after a tongue-lashing from their coach and Sukuna. Toji sat with cloud storming above his head, staring at the field like it killed his whole family. There were scouts and coaches at this game he couldn’t pull his head out of his ass for the life of him.

In come, Gojo pulled pranks getting Yuji excited and getting the crowd laughing as the dance and cheer squad tried to get the OSU crowd in better spirits. Soon enough, all the guys were laughing at Toji chasing Gojo around with an evil grin. Sukuna stayed seated and dialed in drawing up new shit on the board. It looked like they were out of plays and needed to try something completely different.

The following two quarters would go down in history forever at Ohio State. The crowd was going insane at the crazy plays the team was hitting. The passing was on point there were so many diversions some of the touchdowns felt illegal.

At the final half, the score was close. One play left and a little under a minute on the clock. Just then Sukuna was feeling greedy. So he faked a pass to Gojo creating confusion and beelining for the side giving Sukuna a bit more space for another fake pass to Toji who instead made a distraction for him. Sukuna booked it for the touch zone barely making it evading and stepping defenders; he made his first touchdown of the game.

Contrary to popular assumptions, Sukuna is the least greedy player on the field. He knows he’s the brain. He can go some games without scoring but he knows he’s doing his job as the playmaker of the team. The crowd roared erupting with cheers and praise. You were cheering. Sukuna’s head turned in your direction and instead of giving you one of those ‘impossible to read,’ looks he grinned.

He then got jumped by his whole team. After the festivities, you and Suguru waited outside of the lockerooms trying to get the confetti out of your hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him genuinely smile before,” Suguru quipped.

“He smiles a lot more than you think,” you cheesed.

“Is that so? What are you doing on those little study dates if yours, hmm?” he teased.

“Oh, stop it. We don’t do anything.”

“How long has that going to go on?”

“Not long. I was actually going to give him a congrats kiss,” you revealed proudly.

“Your first kiss to a sweaty brute? You make me proud, _____.”

You both hear a chorus of cheers and war cries meaning their post-win meeting was over and they would be storming out any second now. You took a mint and rubbed your clammy hands on your jeans.

“Why are you nervous?” Suguru smiled.

“It’s my first kiss! Of course I’m a little on edge,” you mumbled.

“Don’t be.”

“Thanks that helps so much,” you sarcastically drawled.

Just then Satoru burst through the door in a T-shirt and some sweats. The whole team was wearing their matching gear as they practically skipped out of the locker room in their jollity.

You all group hugged. “Where’s Shoko?” he asked.

“She’s with Utahime and the school news club interviewing people,” you explained. You let Gojo talk about the game like a toddler with a new interest to hyperfixate on. The last ones to step outwere Toji and Sukuna dripping with nonchalance.

The second his eyes landed on you, Sukuna’s face animated and he strode over to you. “Hey, you! Congrats!” you exclaimed, opening your arms for a hug. He hugged you like you were tapping him out of the military whispering in your ear, “Thank you for coming. Thank you for believing in me. I saw you cheering.”

“Of course, Ryomen,” you replied, with a smile looking up at him. You both smiled each other awkwardly before his team called him in for photos and interviews. While being pulled into the crowd, he shouted out to you, “Meet me in car parked outside the kitchen exit in 20 minutes.”

You regrouped with Suguru and the two of you walked and talked for a little while. You told him about meeting Sukuna. He just raised his brow. “Oh c’mon it’s not like that,” you defended.

“Yeah, but I know you want it to be like that. Isn’t that what you read about in your little books?” he teased.

“You don’t get to do that. I balance my consumption of actual literature and straight porn with a shitty plot very well,” you argued.

Suguru chuckled and patted your head, “I know, besides, Sukuna isn’t like that.”

I sure wish he was though. Sure, this past month it’s been great to get to know eachother and just innocently flirt. But I am a woman with needs. Needs that I have dreamt about since I read my first dirty fic in middle school on Wattpad. So, although you weren’t too experienced, you definitely knew far too much. You knew what you thought you liked.

Sukuna on the other hand, was experienced simply because he felt like he had to do the same things Toji was doing during high school and his first two years of college. Though some of the rumours were partly true, he only ever made out with girls and the last time he had sex was in freshman year when he was an absolute dog. There was no doubt he was freaked the fuck out thanks to being friends with Toji.

When you maneuvered yourself through the kitchen, you could feel your heart pounding in your head. Finally, opening the back door, Sukuna was already waiting leaning against the car.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Sukuna opened the passenger door for you and drove after getting in his seat. “Where are you taking me?” you asked, after a little while driving.

“Don’t worry bout it.”

You look out the window as you enter a neighboring town not too far from campus. The area was so packed that these places were within walking distance. You recognized the route after a bit. You thought you were the only one who knew about the secluded part of the gardens. He parked at “your spot” and turned to you.

“I didn’t even know had a car.”

“I’d just rather walk places,” Sukuna shrugged.

He opened his door and then yours and the two of you sat in the back seats. It was a bit too chilly to be outside. “This is the first place I saw you,” Sukuna started.

“It seems that we both like coming here, we just never met here at the same time. That was until I saw you. But I decided that you needed space and I left you to your devices.”

“I had no idea. I thought the first time you saw me was in class or something. No one knows I come here,” you said.

“I knew.” A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you took in the moment. You thought about how much you truly had in common.

“I’ve never been kissed before,” you blurted out cutting through the silence but making the tension thicker.

“Really?”

“Nope.”

“Not even Suguru?”

“What? Why would I kiss him?” you asked with genuine shock almost laughing the question.

“Well, you guys are just super close. I saw your Polaroids and he’s really touchy with you,” Sukuna explained.

“Oh, that’s just the way he is. He’s like that with all his friends,” you dismissed.

He stayed silent at that answer, not fully convinced. You cracked a smile, “Are you jealous?”

“So what if I am?”

“Don’t I get to be a little jealous too? You’ve kissed and slept with a bunch of girls,” you half-teased.

“Well never a girl I actually had feelings for,” he retorted.

“Oh yeah? So, how would you kiss a girl you have feelings for?”

“Like this,” he whispered in a lower gruff voice. His large rough hand went to your jaw as he tilted your head up. His fingers were warm igniting fires on your skin. He sewed his lips to yours and didn’t let go. Your hands went to his chest and he continued kissing you like he was eating you.

People always told you that your first kiss was bound to be awkward and bad; that it was something you couldn’t escape but the two of you made out like you had been dating for years. Sukuna’s hands went down to your waist to pull you in closer. You ended up straddling him with your hands raking through his short pink tufts of hair.

You weren’t sure how things got this heated but you weren’t exactly complaining. Though you expected to have your clothes thrown off by now, they were still on; a little in disarray—but on. You just kept kissing. Sure, Sukuna wanted to see and feel a little more but, he also didn’t want to stop tasting you. He was addicted to feeling your want and desperation through the feeling of your hands roaming his neck and scalp.

He was teaching you how to kiss with his mouth alone studying your tongue, demonstrating what to do with your hands, and where he liked them.

When you bit his bottom lip, he almost went completely wild. You could both feel him hardening a bit under you. Sukuna’s hands rested respectly on your waist when he wasn’t moving your hands where he needed them and brushed your hair out of your face so he could stare at you for the brief moments your lips where apart. You wanted his hands lower and even started to move a little to taunt him.

But as quick as the passionate exchange started, it ended with the piercing ring of Sukuna’s phone. You both pulled apart breathing heavily like you were only breathing in eachother for the past ten minutes. Your eyes were still locked and a bit of sweat formed. You hadn’t even realized that ten minutes had passed. His kiss felt like an enternity and you wanted to drown in him forever.

. . .

-> next part

@minasuniverse @not-a-glad-gladiator @love-me-satoru @sukunawhores @emoedgylord @domainofmarie @sadrna @lazylunarlover @tamishadawn @boudoirbae @river-vixenn @bitchyfestivalbouquet @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @clp-84 @emochosoluvr @yoongithebean @linaaeatsfamilies @magalimachete @chubbydumplingbarnes @katsukiseyebrows @sukubusss @r33m-world @pelicanpizza @mykuronekome @linny-bloggs @your-mum3000 @jayathelostdragon @userr152536367474 @veras-fanfic-reblogs @yuaisen @k0taaaa @nina-from-317 @sukunasrealgf @sukunana12 @syynthesame @kyo-kyo1 @chloe022r @detredoomy @lanaleanne @kunascutie @recelestial @nyx1e-e @nanam1nz @himezoro @fushiguroooozzz @calypso888

comment to be added to the taglist !

[glazedcroissant]

Meta knight's abode

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : you are Spencer Reid's roommate, the team finds out about you when a case brings them to the university you study at word count : 2.5k warning : canon-typical violence A/N : the university is a random one I picked in Virginia, bear with me because I don't know how US university systems work, thanks :) I think this is a part one, there may be a part two or even more, idk, but tell me what you think !

part 2, part 3, part 4

"I- I'm sorry, what university did you say?" Spencer's frantic tone was immediately noticed by his colleagues. Suddenly, he seemed hyperaware of everything in the room. The loud AC, Derek's pen-clicking and the overwhelming smell of Emily's coffee. "Mary Washington University," JJ answered swiftly, eyes narrowed as she sent Reid a confused glance. The man in question mumbled a few words under his breath and shot up, grabbing his coat and scarf. "We need to go." His tone, unusually urgent, left no space for debate or questioning. He was out the door within seconds, followed closely by Morgan and the others.

When you'd applied for Mary Washington University, you had known you would have to get an apartment. You lived too far away to even consider taking the numerous trains and buses and subways to get there. So, when you had been accepted into your first choice of universities, you'd started apartment hunting. Or roommate-hunting, to be more precise.

To say you had been unlucky would have been quite the understatement. You'd visited four apartments so far and could not even consider living in one of them for a second. The first had been full of frat boys who made your skin crawl, the second was with an old, far right-wing couple, the third had been two sisters who'd yelled at each other for the whole time you were there and the fourth had been so crowded your were certain it was neither sanitary not legal for another person to live there. With the deadline of university starting and having to move all your things, you were starting to get quite anxious. But call it chance or fate, one day you stumbled upon an advertisement for an apartment in a nice neighbourhood with one person who seemed quite normal. This person was a state-employee (which meant a stable salary and that meant you wouldn't have to compensate for rent) who travelled often for work and liked to keep mostly to themselves. Not one for big parties, they preferred a night-in and rarely had people over.

So you'd put on your big-girl pants and had walked over to what you hoped would be your last apartment visit. You hadn't been expecting such a young person to open the door because of the way the advert had been written and because of what it said. "Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." You noticed he didn't hold his hand out and mirrored his behaviour. "Hi! I'm here for a visit!" You introduced yourself somewhat shyly, feeling intimidated. This man was at the most five years older than you and he was already a doctor?

He showed you around the apartment, which you liked very much. The rooms smelled like books and tea and everything was kept very clean. On the whole, it was tidy, even if a few books or articles were stacked in some odd places. The bedroom you'd stay in was large and luminous. After the tour, he made you a cup of tea as you discussed formalities.

"Uh, so, you’re a student, right?" he'd asked politely as he added a worrying amount of sugar in his earl grey. You bit back a teasing jest. You hoped maybe one day you'd get to place where you could comment on his daily sugar intake. "Yeah, um, I'm studying English Literature and Cinema." You stirred your tea, looking around the kitchen. Even though it was painted a dark, forest green, it still seemed luminous in the afternoon sun. "Oh, that's super interesting! I’ve always found texts in Middle English particularly insightful! I- I read the Canterbury Tales when I was about 10 years old. It’s fascinating the way in which issues which were already current then are still very present today, like in the Wife of Bath’s tale, for example-“

He cut himself off, leaning back into the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, you probably don’t want me to ramble about what you already know.” “No, I think it’s amazing that you would know that, actually. What else did you like in the Wife of Bath’s tale?” Spencer seemed to brighten up at your words and thus ensued a lengthy discussion of the avant-garde themes evoked by Geoffrey Chaucer. You were fascinated by his knowledge and found his passion especially endearing. Lots of your professors weren’t even that passionate when talking of late 14th century literature.

After discussing rent, which you would afford by waitressing at a local bar, lightly touching upon political subjects (on which you seemed to agree on), he finally told you that he was an FBI agent. "Excuse me?" you spluttered, leaning backwards in shock. "I'm a profiler with the BAU, the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I can show you my badge if you want." He stood up and reached for his bag, but you stopped him in his tracks. "No, no, that's okay, I believe you. I'm just surprised, that's all, sorry." His expansive knowledge of so many things seemed fitting for an agent of the BAU. After realising you were the first person who didn't demand his badge as proof of his profession, Spencer granted you a small smile. "You don't need to apologise. I- I know it can be a bit... off-putting." He sat back down and looked you in the eye. "Is that a problem for you, living with a federal agent?"

You thought about it for a second. As a general rule, you weren't a big fan of cops. Even more generally, you didn't believe in the structure of today's society. But that was a big topic. Plus, a profiler wasn't really a cop, was he? "No, that's not a problem for me."

You'd moved in a month and a half later. Things had been slightly awkward at first and you'd had to figure out what kind of dynamic Spencer and you had. But eventually, you’d found your rhythm.

When Spencer left for work, you took care of his plants and sent him pictures of Geoffrey. Geoffrey was the cat you’d found on the street and taken in. He was named after Geoffrey Chaucer, author of the Canterbury Tales, your first common point of interest. Spencer had been reluctant at first, but you’d taken him to the vet, where he was tested and vaccinated, and the man had finally accepted him into your shared space. Now, he loved the little creature. Sometimes, you’d call him to ask how he was doing and whether he was safe. He’d always reply that yes, he was doing fine and no, he wasn’t in any danger, don’t you worry. He’d ask how you were doing and if you were staying on top of uni work and if you’d eaten and if Geoffrey wasn't being too annoying. As an orange cat, he had his particular tendencies.

When Spencer was at home, you'd always look forward to getting back from class. There was always that sense of comfort and ease when he was around. You had found a lovely routine quite easily. You'd both work or study, then cook, eat together and afterwards maybe you'd watch a movie or something. You were at a point where you could comment on his daily sugar intake, which he's started correcting since meeting you. He loved the Big Bang Theory and though you weren't such a fan, you loved the little laughs he let out and all the corrections he'd make. In general, you liked when he talked. Even more generally, you liked him. You also liked Friends and though Ross got on Spencer's nerves, he enjoyed being able to discuss it with you afterwards. The two of you got very close without even noticing.

Sometimes, you'd remember he wasn't just your roommate, but also a man. He'd make you a cup of tea and you'd stare at his hands a little too long while he stirred the honey in. Or he'd help you reach for a cup with his impressive height, his front just skimming your back with a shiver. He'd tell you to breathe and sit down when you were upset about something. A few times, he drove you home from a night out with your friends and laid his hand on your knee. He was the only one who remembered how you'd told him you wanted to kiss him.

With you, Spencer discovered many things he had never experienced before. A healthy, comforting and peaceful routine. A supporting, non-judgemental, healthy friendship. Easy laughter in the middle of the night and tired "good morning"s at dawn. Butterflies in his stomach whenever you touched him. A budding romance which kept him awake at night.

So when that was threatened, he just about lost it.

"Oh my God." "I can't believe this." "Is this a prank?" "Did someone call 911?" "What about her parents?" "Oh, that's sick."

Voices swarmed around your head, making you dizzy. Your hand rested over your mouth as you stared at the body strewn on the lawn. Much of the student body stood next to you, just as shocked. Mary Goldman had been her name. You'd crossed her just this morning in the main hall and had exchanged small smiles. You had thought that she looked really pretty today, but hadn't told her. You regretted that now. At the moment, her mascara had run down her cheeks and dried and her lipstick and been smudged. Bruises and cuts decorated her bare arms and legs and a big red stain sat on the side of her stomach. The contrast between her dead body and the green, thriving grass beneath her was haunting.

You turned away, feeling sick. You felt your friend's hand on your shoulder, a small source of comfort anchoring you to reality. Facing the road as you turned, you were surprised to see three big black SUVs speeding towards the crowd. You'd been expecting an ambulance, or cops. Not whoever these guys were. They screeched to a stop, drawing everyone's attention. A small dozen of people stormed out, all dressed differently though they all held the same aura of importance, knowledge and authority. You turned back to your friends. "Who are these-"

You stopped mid-sentence when you heard your name being called out urgently. You'd have recognised his voice amidst a thousand others. He spoke your name like no other. You frantically looked around, pushing your way to the large vehicles. When you finally spotted him, tears started pricking your eyes. "Spencer," you breathed in a half-sob. His eyes ran you over once, twice, assessing any damage. When he saw there was no physical wound, his shoulders sank in relief. He opened his arms and you rushed inside his warm embrace almost reflexively. Neither of you noticed the numerous pair of curious eyes observing your intimate exchange.

"Oh my God, Spence- What- What are you doing here?" you'd cried into his cardigan. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the comforting scent he always bore. He wrapped an arm around your waist and another around your shoulders, holding the back of your head in a consoling manner. "We're- We're taking this on as a case, sweets. Are you all right?" He knew it was a stupid question but all the emotions and tension were barely wearing off and he didn't know what else to say. You pulled away but he kept you at arm's length, holding your cold, shaking hands in his warm, steady ones. "I- Yeah, it's just- I- I saw her this morning! How could she- Why would someone do this to her? To- to anyone?!" Spencer cooed and pulled you into another tight hug as you continued to ramble through your tears. When you'd eventually calmed down thanks to his words of reassurance, he pulled away softly.

Spencer understood what you meant perhaps more than anyone. The sadness, the shock, the anger, the need to understand. He gently wiped away the mascara under your eyes with his thumb. "I know, I- It's- Even I don't always understand, sweetheart, so don't- Why don't you go home? I'd come with you but-" You nodded, biting your lower lip. He gave you a sad smile. "I promise I'll join you as soon as this is over. You- you can make yourself a cup of tea and process all this and pet Geoffrey, okay? Classes are going to be cancelled either way." "I don't want to-" The look in his eyes kept you from arguing further. You nodded, giving him another hug. Before you left, an older man came over to you.

"I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'm Agent David Rossi. I just had a question-" "Rossi," interrupted Spencer with a stern tone you'd never heard before. The older Agent raised an eyebrow at him. "Just one question." He turned back to you. "At what time did you say you saw the victim?" You inhaled shakily, running a hand over your face. "Uh, it must have been around quarter to eleven. I think- Yeah, somewhere between ten thirty and eleven." "Thank you, miss." You didn't miss the glance shared between the two men before Rossi retreated.

"Who was that?" asked Emily as soon as you'd left and Spencer had joined them behind the police tape. "No one," Spencer brushed her off as he kneeled next to the victim. Strangely, he hated the idea of someone who knew you dying. It felt too close to home. "C'mon, man, you lost your shit this morning, a girl you clearly know very well runs into your arms, you snap at Rossi and you expect us to believe you?" Derek raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the rest of the team. All were staring at him patiently. He stood up, swallowing.

"That was my roommate." He informed the team of your name and of how you'd been living together for a few years now. "Spencer, you've been living with a woman for years and you've never told us?!" Derek was all but hysteric. Hotch reminded him that everyone was entitled to a private life. "So, are you dating or something?" Emily prodded again. Spencer hesitated a second before answering. "No." Derek scoffed, appalled. "You mean to tell me you've been living with a beautiful woman like that for years and nothing's ever happened?!" "Not everyone is like you, Morgan," Emily reminded with a teasing smirk. Derek sent her an unimpressed look. "Look, let's all grill Spencer later, we have a case to focus on right now." Rossi, ever the voice of reason, directed everyone's attention back to the corpse laying next to them.

Needless to say, the BAU team did not need to interrogate Spencer or attack him with incessant questions to find much out. They'd seen by his behaviour that very morning how much he cared about you. They'd seen how relieved he had been when he'd seen you safe and sound. They'd noticed you'd only started crying when you'd seen him, a big sign of trust. They had never heard him call another by pet names such as "sweets" or "sweetheart". They'd read both of your body languages like a children's book and translated it easily.

Love. Comfort. Peace. Ease.

[beloveds-embrace]

More roomate!au thoughts because, again, my brain never stops. When you move in with them, dont expect to be able to do anything by yourself ever again (unless its housework and their away), your car needs fuel? Dont worry Simon will go with you and fill it up for you and dont even think about trying to pay for it yourself, you tried once and Simon just glared at you so you tucked your card back into your purse. You need to go get a few supplies for college, Price and Gaz are joining you and giving their opinions about the best laptop to get or the best stationary (they fill out enough paperwork that they know the best ones). You're cooking them dinner, Johnnys right by your side following your every order and helping to wash up while you go relax on the sofa waiting for whatevers in the oven. And you will want for nothing, you see a pair of shoes you want while out shopping but their outside of your price range, they arrive at your door a week later just after the boys deploy, you see a pretty necklace on TV and comment on it, Johnnys there behind you fastening it just before your next night out. You lament that your mattess and bed are uncomfortable, a new one arrives the next and it just so happens to be big enough to fit all 5 of you on it.

Yeah, the boys would 1000% give you princess treatment

My mind is still on that drabble so i absolutely love this so so so very much god yes….

Original post

It doesn’t end there, of course. God, they do so, so much for you.

It’s Simon who stands right outside the bathroom door when you get sick late at night, trying to be quiet and not bother anyone yet when you tell him he should go to sleep, you’ll be fine, he doesn’t even let you finish your sentence.

“Don’t need sleep,” he grunts, pulling you against his body. Despite your protests, his warmth alone makes you melt. “Jus’ tell me what you need.”

It’s Gaz who gifts you with a surprise spa day kit after he notices how exhausted you look during your exams, gently pushing aside your laptop. “You look knackered, lovie,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you, alright? You always spoil us when we return anyways, this the least we can do.”

It’s Johnny who immediately knows your day has been shit just from listening the way you shuffle in, shoulders slumped and head downcast.

“Someone steal yer sunshine, hen?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it, Johnny,” you mumble tiredly, yet you have no energy to refuse when he leads you to the couch. “Bad day. I’ll just go to my room-“

“Nah, none o’ that,” he shakes his head, taking your bag. “Sit down, aye? I’ll fix you up something warm.” Though he makes sure to drap a blanket over yours shoulders before he goes into the kitchen, muttering about food.

It’s Price who goes hand in hand with your safety. All of them do make you feel safe but John is just- a bit different.

Once, you were being followed after you finished shopping and like an idiot, you’d forgotten your usual pepper spray you carried. You knew you were being followed because you could feel the eyes constantly on you and you circled the same area several times. Your hands are shaking when you text him, praying to every god-

- john

- Yes, love?

You are too afraid to even crack a smile at his serious punctuation.

- someones following me idk what to d

You don’t wait for him to reply. Just nervously, with too many typos, you tell him where you are and if please can he come or any of the men-

When John appears by your side in no less than five minutes, he just pulls you close to his side.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He ushers you along. “Bloke’s been dealt with. Give me your backs, yeah? Next time tell me or any of the muppets to join you.”

Too late you notice the blood splatters on his knuckles.

Also, remember when I said the original ad had been because they wanted someone to keep the place tidy when they are away? That doesn’t apply when they are home. If they see you cleaning or cooking, they are helping- nu uh, no complaints allowed, they are not about to let you slave away when you have four very capable men at your beck and call.

Hell, once it was Johnny who saw you scrubbing the kitchen floors and he just picked you up and placed you on the counter, tsking at you.

In a few hours, John returned to find all of them cleaning the kitchen; Soap was now dusting, Gaz vaccuming, and Simon wiping the counters.

And you were bundled in the couch corner, cozy and cute.

“What’s all this?” He asked, an eyebrow raised, and you shrug.

“She was tryin’ to clean.” Johnny grumbled from the corner.

“And you didn’t stop her sooner?”

“Bloody stubborn bird,” Ghost was the one who replied this time, not even looking up.

You opened your mouth to argue, but the look John fixed you with made you shut your mouth with a click.

“Good girl.”

The warmth on your cheeks was definitely not from overworking, at least.

You mention needing new clothes? You wake up to Simon’s credit card on your nightstand with a note ordering you to use it. “Strangely”, you can’t find neither your own card nor your wallet.

You also can’t find him, but Kyle’s there and oh wow! He has nothing to do so he will in fact be joining you (and making you model the dresses and outfits and send pictures to the others so you can be drowned in compliments)!

Also i like to hc that john(s) are both huge coffee lovers and they do in fact have those huge, fancy coffee machines yk? They are insulted when they see you drink the cheap, shitty, tasteless instant coffee you are surviving on and from then on, you will wake up every day to warm, fresh coffee made for you <33

Anyways gods i love them sm can you tell 😩😩

[alisonsfics]

bad for my health

pairing: dbf!bucky barnes x walker’s daughter!reader

summary: you loved to tease your dad, john walker, about his new avengers team, but that was before he introduced you to bucky barnes. he makes you weak in the knees, so when he accidentally sees one of your nudes, you know it’s all over.

word count: 5k (i think this is the longest fic i’ve ever written whoops)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, age gap, oral sex (m & f recieving), nudes, dirty talk, bucky’s fingers, absolute filth

“What time is everyone getting here?” You yelled across the house to your dad.

“Just a couple minutes,” he responded. You finished tidying around the living room. Today, you were finally meeting his infamous New Avengers teammates.

You’d heard the stories from every mission, but since you’d been away at college, you hadn’t met any of them yet. So, you were helping your dad host a barbecue party. All the neighbors and friends of your dad had been invited, including his teammates.

As if perfectly timed, there was a knock at the door. You followed behind your dad towards the door— feeling more nervous than you expected.

Your dad opened the door to four familiar faces— Yelena, Alexei, Bob, and Ava. Meeting them all was a whirlwind. Ava had complimented your outfit, while Alexei patted you on the head and said you looked like your dad.

“All that’s left is Bucky. He should be here soon.” Your dad told you, patting your shoulders.

Yelena stayed glued to your side. “So, you’re really Walker’s daughter? He talks about you all the time— and even though he told us you just graduated, I was still picturing a little kid.” She told you.

You weren’t shocked. It was a pretty common reaction— given the small age gap between you and your dad.

“He met my mom in high school. They were 16 when they found out she was pregnant. She raised me while he was in the military, and then cheated on him while he was overseas. It’s been me and him ever since.” You explained.

“Relationships with dads are always complicated.” She told you, relating all to well.

You both were about to walk in the living room when your dad jogged over. “One second, honey. Bucky just got here. I want to introduce you.” He said, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll catch up with you later.” Yelena said, smiling at you.

“They all love you so far. I knew they would.” Your dad encouraged you as he reached for the door.

The next thirty seconds went by in slow motion.

You couldn’t see Bucky at first, as he shook your dad’s hand. Then he stepped into view— with a glow around his whole body from the sun behind him.

Your eyes tried to take in every detail. The soft waves in his hair. The way his metal arm seemed to sparkle in the sun. The way his white tshirt hugged his torso— perfectly showing off every muscle.

Bucky nearly choked on the air when he spotted you. Like Yelena, he’d also expected someone a bit more kid-ish. He didn’t expect you to take his breath away.

“Barnes, this is my daughter.” Your dad introduced you, oblivious to the way Bucky’s eyes were roaming down your body.

Bucky stepped towards you— it was like your skin was on fire. “It’s nice to meet you. You can call me Bucky.” He said, with a charming smile as he shook your hand.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” You responded.

His hand felt massive in yours. Your brain couldn’t help but wander to thoughts of what else his hands could do.

“Walker, Bob wants to walk tv. Where’s the remote?” Yelena yelled from the living room. Your dad walked away towards the rest of the team. Effectively, leaving you alone with Bucky— not that either of you were complaining.

“So, you’re the infamous daughter Walker is always talking about.” Bucky said, his eyes raking down your body. He didn’t have to be as subtle now that John was in the other room. But he still felt a twinge of guilt as he admired you.

“Don’t worry. I’ve been told I always surpass expectations.” You tested the waters, seeing how much flirting you could get away with.

Bucky did a double take. Did you mean what he thought you meant? Was he making it up or were you actually checking him out?

“I don’t doubt that.” Bucky chuckled. He was screwed— colossally screwed. A whole night with you was sure to kill him.

“You want a beer?” You asked, gesturing towards the kitchen. He quickly nodded his head. His nerves were fried around you.

He walked behind you into the kitchen. He mentally cursed himself for noticing how well your denim shorts cupped your ass. It was official— you were his Kryptonite, and he’d only met you five minutes ago.

You grabbed two beers out of the fridge and turned around to find Bucky standing closer than you’d expected.

You met his gaze, watching as his pupils grew— the blue of his eyes barely visible. Suddenly, you were having flashbacks to high school anatomy and learning that your pupils dilated when you were attracted to someone.

“Let me get it, doll.” He said, effortlessly twisting both caps off with his metal hand.

You gulped— taken aback by his strength. You knew the Bucky Barnes story, and you knew he was old enough to be your great grandfather, but that wasn’t stopping you.

Having Bucky’s eyes on you made you feel good. You felt confident and sexy when you left him speechless.

“I can think of some better uses for that arm besides opening beer bottles.” You hinted, looking at him over the rim of the bottle as you took a sip.

He choked on his beer, trying not to spit it out. A smirk grew on your face— pleased with your effect on him. “You better be careful, doll. I’m old enough to be your dad. I don’t think Walker would exactly approve.” He tried to put some distance between the two of you.

He needed to do something to keep himself away from you— or he’d continue to be putty in your hands.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” You said, batting your eyelashes and stepping towards him.

Bucky’s eyes were glued on your chest— the dress you were wearing perfectly displayed your tits. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. It wasn’t why you wore the dress, but it was a nice added bonus.

Bucky’s lips drew you in. Like a magnet. It was like an itch you couldn’t scratch— a hunger. All you wanted was to have his hands on you. You needed it.

“Doesn’t make it any less wrong,” he told you. He tried to keep himself away from you. He didn’t think he’d be able to stop himself once he got his hands on you.

“Maybe— but I see it in your eyes,” you told him, brushing his hair out of his face. His breathing stuttered under your touch. “See what?” He asked, breathlessly.

You smirked up at him. “That you want this just as badly as I do.” You said, winking before leaving the kitchen.

Bucky had to take a couple minutes to breathe after you left. He has wrapped right around your finger. He took another swig of his beer and headed towards the living room, where everyone was hanging out.

He swore under his breath, realizing the only empty seat was next to you on the couch.

You gave him a soft innocent smile as he sat beside you— like you hadn’t been flirting with him just out of earshot of your dad.

“So, you just graduated from college? That’s so cool. Do you have a boyfriend?” Yelena asked you. Bucky perked up as he heard the question. Why did he care? What was it about you that pulled him in so strongly?

“No, no boyfriend. Having a little break from boys,” you replied, simply. Bucky had to remind himself to not seem too excited by that.

“I thought I was gonna have to kill her last boyfriend. Leo— that piece of shit.” Your dad groaned, remembering the guy that cheated on you with your best friend.

“Yeah, Leo was a dick. But, there’s a guy I’ve had my eye on, if I was going to end this break from guys. I’ll have to find out if he’s interested though.” You said, fighting back a smirk as Bucky squirmed in his seat.

“Well, I’m sure he is. Maybe he’s just scared because he knows who your dad is.” Bucky responded, coyly.

His eyes had noticeably darkened. You both knew it was going to be a long night of this game— this cat and mouse game.

A timer beeped in the distance, pulling you both out of your staring contest.

“Dinner is ready, everybody.” Your dad said, racing to the kitchen.

Bucky wasn’t shocked when the only empty seat at the table, ended up being next to you— just his luck, right?

He felt a jolt run through as you teasingly rubbed your foot against his leg. The look on his face was clear— trying not to react in anyway.

“Alright there, Buck?” Your dad questioned, noticing the strained expression on his face. Bucky quickly nodded, not trying to draw any more attention.

Bucky saw you smirk out of the corner of your eye, and he knew he was screwed. Under the tablecloth, you reached your hand towards him and placed your hand on his upper thigh.

The rib Bucky was eating fell straight out of his hand onto the table, splattering barbecue sauce all over his white tshirt. His free hand clasped overs yours tightly— stopping your hand from exploring any higher up his leg.

Everybody’s eyes were on Bucky. His skin was on fire. Your dad was staring at him, completely unaware of what was happening below the table.

“Oh, shit,” Bucky mumbled, noticing the stain on his shirt. This was the most he’d ever wanted to self-combust. The entire table was just silently staring as he fumbled for a napkin.

“You can borrow one of my shirts, if you want. You want to show him, sweetheart?” Your dad suggested looking towards you.

You quickly nodded and stood up from the table. “Thanks, Walker.” Bucky muttered as he followed you up the stairs.

Bucky was completely silent behind you— keeping his eyes trained on the floor. He couldn’t risk embarrassing himself any more.

After walking into your dad’s room, you pulled a black tshirt out of his dresser.

Bucky tried to grab it from your hand, but you moved it out of his reach. “Do I make you nervous?” You asked him, softly. You didn’t think it would be so easy to make the Winter Soldier nervous.

“When Walker is sitting two feet away from me and his daughter is sneaking her hand up my leg under the table— then, yeah, I get a little nervous.” He told him, in a hushed tone. He’d never be able to show his face again if Walker overheard him.

“He’d never know.” You tried to convince him. He chuckled at the thought. “If his friend was sleeping with his daughter? He’d figure it out pretty quickly.” He told you.

You were visibly disappointed by his answer. He reached, grabbing your hand in his. “Trust me, sweetheart. This isn’t about you or me not wanting you. I promise, I want this just as much as you do. But I don’t see a way we pull this off without everything going to shit.” He said.

You knew he was probably right, but that didn’t quench that feeling in between your legs. “But, you are attracted to me?” You teased, raising your eyebrow at him.

Understatement of the century.

He chuckled, stepping closer to you. “Very much so. And this little dress isn’t helping.” He said, letting his hands attach themselves to your waist. Every part of his brain was telling him to stop, but he’d touched you now— and he didn’t know how to stop.

You grabbed the hem of his shirt and started to pull it over his head. He felt like he was going to collapse with the way that you were looking at him.

You didn’t hide the fact that you were admiring him— lightly running your fingers over his chest. “That little smirk is dangerous, doll.” He warned you. It didn’t discourage you.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” You replied. His grip on your hips tightened, you wouldn’t be surprised if you woke up with bruises. He was holding onto you like he needed you to live.

“This one might be a little snug on you, with your broad shoulders and these fucking arms.” You said, handing him the tshirt as your lips ghosted over his biceps.

He quickly pulled the shirt over his head. Finally, his eyes met yours. “Fuck it,” he grunted.

He grabbed your hips, effortlessly placing you on top of the dresser. He nudged your legs apart with his knee, and then wrapped them around his hips.

In a matter of seconds, his hands were in your hair and his lips were all over yours. The fluttery feeling in your stomach rose up and flooded your entire body.

The kiss was frantic— like, if Bucky didn’t touch every inch of your skin in the next five seconds, he’d explode.

You slipped your hands into the back pockets of his jeans, pulling his body closer to you. “You’re an angel— straight from heaven, doll,” he mumbled against your lips.

Bucky felt like his head was spinning— drunk on your touch. His metal hand slipped under your dress, holding a firm grip on your thigh. The cold metal stung against your skin— a direct contrast to how warm the rest of your body felt.

“Payback,” he groaned, sinking his fingers deeper into your thigh. You jutted your hips towards him, hoping to move his hand closer to where you needed him.

Then— heavy steps coming up the stairs.

“You finding it alright, sweetheart?” Your dad yelled down the hallway.

Bucky tugged you down off the dresser, smoothing out your dress and hair. You both turned to face the door as soon as your dad emerged.

“Just found it. Your organization system is a mess.” You teased, patting your dad’s shoulder as you walked past him.

Bucky was left standing there speechless. Because what the fuck had just happened. Did he make that up or did he really just get a taste of you? “You coming downstairs?” Walker asked, gesturing towards the stairs.

Bucky quickly nodded and followed after

You all finished the rest of dinner. The only thing on your mind was getting Bucky alone again. He was thinking the same thing.

“You gonna make those brownies you were talking about?” Your dad asked you, as you helped him clear the table, “I can get somebody to help you, if you want.”

You tried to insist that you didn’t need help and didn’t want to bother anyone, but before you could get a word out, Yelena spoke. “If you want someone’s help baking, you want Bucky. The rest of us are a danger in the kitchen.” She told you.

Well, well, well. Now that worked in your favor.

“If you don’t mind, of course,” your eyes found Bucky’s. He eagerly nodded and practically raced to follow behind you to the kitchen.

The only downfall to your plan was that everyone was actually expecting brownies and you couldn’t just waste twenty minutes getting distracted with Bucky.

“Doll, we gotta be more careful. That was too fucking close with your dad.” He whispered as he helped you gather ingredients.

“Oh but doesn’t that spoil all the fun?” You teased him, raking your fingers down his chest. He shivered under your touch, but tried to maintain a poker face. He wasn’t very successful.

“So, you’re a little adrenaline junkie then? Live for the thrill? I got a motorcycle back at home. I’ll have to take you for a ride sometime.” He suggested. You both hadn’t realized how close you were until you bumped into his chest. Bucky swore he could hear his heart beating. “You mean a ride on the bike…or a different kind of ride? I mean, I’m down for either, but I definitely have a preference.” You whispered, batting your eyes at him.

This was hell for Bucky— an exciting, exhilarating hell, but still hell. Being forced to listen to your constant flirting, while your dad was in the other room and Bucky couldn’t do anything about the way he was feeling.

“You’re bad for my health, sweetheart. Gonna give me a heart attack if you keep lookin’ at me like that.” He said, trying to bring his focus back to the brownies that you were mixing.

“I think you’re just jealous that I’m better at flirting than you. I mean, go ahead, if you want to try.” You said, challenging him. You didn’t expect much of a reaction.

With a new confidence, Bucky swiped two of his fingers through the batter and held them up to you. “Go ahead, gotta have a taste test,” he encouraged— the metal digits hanging expectantly in front of your mouth.

It was your turn to be speechless. Bucky’s cocky smile made your knees weak. Obliging, you stepped forward, taking both his fingers in your mouth.

Bucky could feel his jeans start to tighten. It took everything in his self control to not replace his fingers with his cock. Just the thought of your pretty lips wrapped around him was enough to make him growl.

You swirled your tongue around his fingers, getting every bit of the batter. “Fuck, doll,” he held back a moan.

Pulling your mouth away with a soft popping sound. “You believe I can flirt now?” He teased you.

“We will definitely be doing that again, when my dad isn’t within earshot.” You told him. Excitement bubbled up in Bucky’s stomach.

You started to pour the batter into the baking pan. “Can you go look at my phone over there and tell me how long these have to bake? I have a recipe saved in my photos.” You asked Bucky as you slid the pan into the oven.

Bucky grabbed your phone, noticing your wallpaper was a picture of you on the beach with some friends. You were wearing a black bikini that left very little to the imagination. He shuddered. Maybe he’d have to bring you on a motorcycle ride to the beach, so he’d get to see that little ensemble.

He moved to your photos app, searching for the recipe. Quickly swiping through your most recent photos, he felt his heart stop when he stumbled across a nude.

A chill ran down his spine. The most perfect picture he’d ever seen— staring back at him. It was you sitting in front of a mirror, your knees bent and legs wide open. He could see every inch of you.

His eyes raked over the photo, trying to commit it to memory. He noticed several hickeys on your neck. He imagined you’d taken this photo for your ex-boyfriend, but that didn’t stop his imagination.

He willed himself to pretend he’d given you those hickeys and you were sending this picture to him. Maybe when he was on a long mission.

He bit his tongue to hold back a moan. He was completely hard in his jeans. He knew in a matter of seconds, you’d ask what he was looking at, or worse, Walker would walk in and see his friend’s very obvious hard on.

“I have to go to the store.” Bucky grunted, tossing down your phone and heading for the door.

By the time you turned to face him, he was already gone. Hopping in his car and speeding away.

He drove to the closest gas station, where he parked in a shadowy parking spot near the dumpster.

He didn’t know what he was doing. He just needed to clear his head and get out of there. His mind wandered back to that picture— the picture that would be engrained in his mind forever.

He quickly unzipped his jeans just enough to stuff his hand into his boxers. He let his eyes flutter closed and thought of that picture as he tugged on his cock.

Standing, dumbfounded in the kitchen, you glanced down at your phone to see what had upset Bucky.

That familiar photo was staring back at you. Oh shit. Whoops.

You were all happily eating brownies when Bucky returned. He wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze. He felt so ashamed. He was worried if anyone looked into his eyes, they’d know what he’d done.

It was a quiet rest of the night. Your dad set up air mattresses downstairs for the team— Alexei claiming the couch before anyone else could. Then, you and your dad told them all goodnight before going up to your separate rooms.

You couldn’t sleep.

You tossed and turned for hours. What was up with Bucky? He seemed so different when he came back— so distant.

You knew it was because of that photo. You’d blown it. How were you supposed to know he’d swipe back that far?

You slipped out of your bed and headed downstairs for a glass of water. As you walked by the living room, you saw everyone peacefully asleep— well almost everyone.

Bucky was lying there, wide awake. Staring up at the ceiling.

You grabbed your glass of water and quickly drank it before heading into the living room.

Alexei’s loud snores covered the sound of your footsteps. Luckily, Bucky was on the mattress closest to you.

You knelt beside him. His gaze snapped over to you, startling by your sudden appearance.

“Can we talk?” You whispered. He took a deep breath. You could almost see him thinking it over. Not being able to think of any excuse, he nodded and stood up.

You led him upstairs to your room, softly closing the door behind the two of you.

Bucky froze when he realized he was alone in your room with you. There was a fire lit in his belly again. But he couldn’t lose his sense of judgement this time— not again.

You sat on the edge of your bed, patting the seat next to you. Bucky seemed hesitant, but obliged.

He couldn’t even look at you. Every time he did, he was reminded of that photo.

This was wrong. He knew it.

“I didn’t mean to snoop, I promise. I just stumbled across it.” He told you, genuinely.

“I know,” you assured him.

Neither of you knew what to say.

The air in the room felt deathly still.

You caught a glimpse of the rising tent in Bucky’s sweatpants. He was thinking about the picture again.

You knew what you wanted, and you weren’t going to let anyone take it away from you now.

You sunk to your knees in front of Bucky. His breathing started to speed up— he was almost gasping for air. “Sweetheart, what’re you doing?” He asked, too scared for the answer. You gave him a mischievous smile and a shrug.

“Nothing,” you lied.

You pulled his sweatpants and boxers down to his knees. You watched as his eyes darkened. The sight of you on your knees was too much. You were ready. Ready for him.

“We can’t,” he let out a choked groan as you wrapped your hand around his cock. You slowly moved your hand up and down his length. “Why? Does it not feel good?” You teased, knowing the answer.

He didn’t answer. Too caught up in his own bliss. “No, fuck, feels so good,” he moaned.

You swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock. His hand flew down to grab the bed frame— his knuckles turning white.

His eyes were clenched shut, sweat starting to appear on his brow. “Ahh shit, sweetheart. It’s wrong— so fucking wrong.” He moaned, bucking his hips into your hand.

You replaced your hand with your mouth, wrapping your lips around him. His eyes shot open. He wanted to watch you. Half the fun was watching you take more and more of him.

His cock brushed against the back of your throat. Your eyes never left his. It wouldn’t take much more before he was cumming down your throat. Bucky knew that.

He grabbed your hair, pulling you away from him. “Sweetheart, we gotta stop.” He said, his voice coming out shaky.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him.

“If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do this right.” He said, tugging you up into his lap.

Your arousal was pooling between your legs, excited by the implication. “What did you have in mind?” You teasingly asked him.

“The first time you make me cum, it’s gonna be in this sweet cunt. Not your mouth, sweetheart.” He said. He rubbed his thumb against the crotch of your sweatpants.

Even with two layers separating you, the friction still made you whine. “Wanna know a perk of this super soldier serum? I can smell you from here.” He told you.

His calloused fingers grazed the hem of your tshirt, slowly pulling it over your head. His eyes widened when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra.

He started slow. Pressing sloppy kisses down your chest. Even your skin tasted sweet. He softly pinched your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and index finger. You bit down on your lip to stop from moaning.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet for me, doll. Can you do that?” He asked you. You quickly nodded your head.

He picked you up off his lap and laid you down on the bed. Your imagination soared— having no idea what was in store for the night.

“Do you know how fucking beautiful you look?” He was in awe of you. Your hair sprawled out across the sheets, looking up at him with hungry eyes— he was surprised he didn’t melt under your gaze.

He ripped his tshirt over his head, letting it fall to the ground with yours. You reached for your own sweatpants, but he swatted your hand away.

“Let me take care of you, gonna show what it’s like with an older man.” He winked down at you as he slowly slid your sweatpants down your legs. The wetness in between your thighs was only growing.

There was something about Bucky that looked restrained. Like he could devour you on the spot, but was instead taking his time. It made it hard to keep your hands off him.

Bucky’s boxers and sweatpants soon joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

“Let’s see how wet you are, baby girl. You’re practically leaking through your panties.” He said, pulling them down teasingly slow.

He watched as your breathing changed— your chest rising and falling much faster. “This all for me?” He asked, running a cool metal finger through your folds. “Yes, yes, all for you, Buck,” you moaned. He collected your arousal on his finger.

He didn’t say a word— just held his finger in front of your mouth expectantly. You eagerly took his finger in your mouth. “Do you taste as sweet as you smell? Guess I’ll have to find out,” he retracted his hand and buried his face in between your legs.

You clasped your hand over your mouth before you had the chance to moan. His large arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping them open as he licked a stripe through your folds. His nose brushed up against your clit, making you squirm against his face.

It only encouraged him to go deeper. He was like a starved man. Your fingers found their way to Bucky’s hair, tugging every time his tongue ran over your clit.

“Bucky…Bucky,” you tried to grab his attention, pulling his shoulders towards you.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He asked, looking up at you.

“I need you to fuck me, please. God— waited long enough,” you begged him. His smirk only grew.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he joked, kissing you and climbing on top of you.

His hands grabbed your thighs roughly. He didn’t waste any time as he pushed his entire length through your folds. You gasped into the kiss as he bottomed out. “So fucking big,” you mumbled.

“You love the way I fill you up, huh?” He asked. He pulled his hips back and slammed his cock back into you. You called out his name, louder than you meant to.

He held his finger up to his lips, shushing you, as he continued to ram his hips into yours. He tried his best to not make the bed creak but it would’ve killed him to go any slower.

“Gotta stay quiet. If we get caught, we’ll have to stop. And you don’t want that, right? Stay quiet for me, and I’ll make you cum.” He coaxed you. The dirty talk turned you on more than you thought it would— going straight to the warmth in your belly.

He clasped his metal hand over your mouth. Then, he used the other to wrap your legs around his waist and hold onto your hips.

You could feel the coil building and building. The sloppy sounds that came with every thrust were enough to make your legs turn to jelly. You’d assumed Bucky would be good in bed, but he was like a feral animal.

“So close, Buck. Need to— need to cum,” you begged him. Deep grunts left his lips as he rolled deeper into you. “Almost there, baby,” his voice came out husky.

You started to squeeze around him, making Bucky go crazy. He kissed you, trying to muffle both your moans. He quickened his pace— his thrusts were rushed and messy. He kept chasing that high.

That feeling in your stomach exploded. Your back arched against the blankets. “Fuck, Bucky. So fucking good,” you groaned in his ear. That was enough to shoot him over the edge.

He swore under his breath, hips bucking into yours as he came. You could feel his cock twitch as he came down from his high. He caught your lips in a kiss, trying to bring you both back to earth.

He slowly pulled out and flopped onto the bed beside you.

“I don’t know what to say except I hope we get to do that again sometime.” You mumbled, kissing his bare shoulder.

“I absolutely agree. You were lovely, doll,” he kissed you gently, “I should get back downstairs before anyone notices I’m gone.”

He slipped back into his pajamas. Before he left, you walked over to him. “Just one more,” you said, going on your tiptoes to kiss him again. He kissed you back, smirking down at you and giving your ass a playful slap before he left.

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[violetcamryn]

HTTYD NSFW ALPHABET - Snotlout Jorgenson (live action ver.)

Snotlout Jorgenson (live action version) x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut (18+)

AN: For the sake of this post and all future HTTYD posts, Snotlout is at LEAST 18 years old (in my mind, he is early 20’s) . Wrote this because there is not nearly enough content out there for live action Snotlout (or even Snotlout x reader in general). Also darn you Gabriel Howell for re-igniting my HTTYD & Snotlout obsession

A = Aftercare: The KING of aftercare. He’ll run you a hot shower, then hop in with you and help you wash off. All while massaging your shoulders like his life depends on it. Then he’ll tuck you into bed and crawl in with you for the night.

B = Body Part (their favourite on you & on themselves): On himself, it’s his arms (shoulders included). He loves to flex in the mirror and flex to you anytime he gets. You definitely don’t mind though, because he is actually pretty built. On you, it’s your thighs. He loves to rest his head in your lap when you’re alone together, and he’ll just trace meaningless lines up and down your thighs with his fingers. He especially loves when you play with his hair as he’s laying in your lap. He’d never let anybody else see him this vulnerable, but you’re the exception.

C = Cum: INSIDE. I think this man might have a breeding kink…he absolutely loves hitting it raw.

D = Dirty Secret: He likes to be on the bottom every once in a while. He really enjoys when you’re on top, he’ll be looking up at you during sex with those big puppy dog eyes and just letting himself enjoy the moment. He also would not mind if you tied his hands up to experiment, he’s just not confident enough to ask for it yet. None of this is really a secret between the two of you, but it is most certainly a secret to everyone else.

E = Experience: He’s slightly experienced. He used to get around in his mid-to-late-teen years but he didn’t enjoy it much. He sort of saw it as a right-of-passage thing, but when he started dating you things really started to heat up. He’s learned quite a few tricks since you started having sex and he’s a very skilled man now.

F = Favourite Position: If he’s on top, d0ggy. He loves being able to grab your hips and waist while you’re getting it on, and plus he can get a better grip of your hair from behind (🤭). If he’s on the bottom, literally anything. He does not complain. He’s just happy to be there.

G = Goofy: Absolutely goofy at the right times. Definitely not all the time, but he lets a joke go every now and then. He enjoys it when you banter back to him too, it keeps him from worrying that he’s being TOO goofy.

H = Hair:

1) Upstairs He’s a hair puller. He doesn’t like his hair to be pulled, but you both enjoy it when he pulls yours. He would never do it if you weren’t comfortable though, but he knows you love it. However, he does love when you play with his hair after y’all are done having sex. The feeling of your fingers running through his hair and massaging his scalp just does something to him.

2) Downstairs He keeps himself well groomed. Not necessarily clean-shaven but he likes it neat and tidy. He doesn’t care whatsoever about what you do with yours, he’s just happy to feel the touch of a woman.

I = Intimacy: He loves when it’s just the two of you in his room, curled up under the blankets, talking late at night. He cherishes those moments with his whole heart. It was hard for him to open up at the beginning, but you’ve slowly chipped away at his walls and now talking to you might just be his favourite thing. He also loves when you two have slow and intimate sex. When you spend time just feeling each-other and not rushing to the finish line.

J = Jerking Off: He used to (a LOT) before you started dating. But now he doesn’t see the point when he’s got such a beautiful girl. He’ll only ever do it if you’re away for a long period of time on some sort of mission. But it’s never the same and he always wishes it was you instead of his hand.

K = Kinks: PRAISE KINK. The moment you call him a “good boy” or tell him how good he makes you feel, he’s in heaven. He thrives on words of affirmation and affection.

L = Location: Anytime, anywhere, except in public. He will always be ready for whenever you want him. He won’t do anything in a public place (because that requires letting his guard down in front of people who aren’t YOU), but any private location he can find, you best believe y’all have fucked there before. His secret location fantasy would be in a secluded hot spring.

M = Motivation: When he sees you after a long day of dragon training, he is immediately in the mood. I mean when is he not in the mood? This man is down bad for his girl.

N = No’s: He will never hit you, even if you ask, it’s a hard line in the sand for him. He also would never be comfortable with having sex in a public space.

O = Oral:

Receiving He’s into it if you’re into it. He would never want to pressure you into doing something you weren’t comfortable with, but now that he knows YOU enjoy it, he’s all for it. Gets him turned on just thinking about it.

Giving This man is a MUNCH. I cannot see him any other way. He is down bad for his woman and will give and give to your hearts content.

P = Pace: Slow and sensual, or fast and furious. There is no in between for him. It really depends on both of your moods. Some days the only thing he wants is some slow intimacy, and there’s other times where he fucks like a mad man. He will be sure to cater to your wants and desires first and foremost though.

Q = Quickies: Depends. If he’s stressed out and needs to let the feelings out, he is absolutely into it. But most of the time he likes to take his time with you and not rush through. And honestly it’s hard to find a place in Berk that’s appropriately hidden for a quickie.

R = Risks: He is totally into experimenting with you, as long as it’s not one of his “no’s”. But role-play or restraints? Absolutely something he wants to try out.

S = Stamina: He can go multiple rounds most days, but there are some times where he’s just so exhausted from the days work that he’ll go one round, clean you both up, and fall right asleep. It’s not his fault you’re so nice to lay next to, he can’t help that he falls asleep so quickly.

T = Toys: N/A (we’re in viking times people, i’m not introducing medieval torture devices)

U = Unfair: Snotlout is a total tease. He’ll grab your ass in public when he thinks nobody’s looking, and he knows you love it. During sex he’ll ask you dirty questions when he knows you can’t focus enough to answer, just to show himself how good he’s making you feel. However you are also quite the tease. You’ll get him all turned on at an inconvenient time, and you’ll watch him try to focus on the task he was previously doing (and failing miserably now, because all he can think about is you).

V = Vocal: WHINY. I just know this man is vocal and whiny in bed. Deep breathing, grunting, begging, the works. Now that he’s comfortable with you, he makes plenty of noise. He loves when you make noise in bed too, it really turns him on and gives him motivation.

W = Wild Card: He gets wildly jealous when you’re sitting close with any of the other guys. Not like a toxic level of jealousy, just enough that it makes him squirm. Even though he knows neither you nor any of the boys would betray him like that. He’ll always find a way to squeeze in to the conversation and make it about how he’s big and tough (you think it’s hilarious).

X = X-Ray: Above average size in both length and width. Cut. Keeps it well groomed. Safe to say he’s around 8 inches.

Y = Yearning: A secret yearner. He’ll write poems to you and keep them in his journal, never to see the light of day. He wrote so many that he had to get another journal after only a month. He’ll also draw candid sketches of you when you go on dates, and he’ll hesitantly show them to you once he’s finished. You are always sure to praise his drawings every chance you get because they’re actually spectacular. Deep down, he’s always been a romantic. He’d be sure to show you off every chance he got.

Z = Zzz: If you’re playing with his hair, he’s out cold in 5 minutes flat. He used to have a lot of trouble sleeping but not since you two got together. Now he sleeps like a baby (as long as you’re sharing a bed).

Hope you enjoyed! I’m still VERY new to writing smut so i hope this wasn’t too bad or too much. Feel free to leave feedback in the comments, and reblogs are much appreciated 💗

PS. Snotlout is just a big ol’ softie in my mind. A softie with a hard outer shell. But he’s adorable. A lot of fluff in this post but hopefully there was also enough smut to please y’all 😚 i’ll make GN!reader and M!reader versions eventually too

[amorisxx]

Snickerdoodle pt. iv

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader, Patrick Zweig x reader, Tashi Duncan x reader summary: Art comes out of retirement to test out his coaching skills. Your relationship with him continues to spiral. warnings: smut 18+, cheating, divorce, rough sex, piv, marijuana use, slight angst, hastily proofread word count: 7.7K divider by @cafekitsune <3 prev part | next part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

Kaleb decides he wants to play tennis. Or that he wants to “get serious” about it. He’d done tennis camp every summer along with soccer camp, and he’d enjoyed it enough. But for some reason, he’s determined to be a tennis player now. You blame it on how much time he’s been spending around the Donaldson’s. Between the various play dates and carpooling, he and Lily have been attached at the hip.

The two of you are enjoying a quiet evening  on a weeknight when he brings it up. 

“Lily doesn’t really like tennis,” he tells you in between bites of mashed potatoes. 

“Well that’s okay. Sometimes our friends end up having different hobbies,” you say.

“Hm,” he puts his finger to his chin, “kinda like you and Mr. Art?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well he’s like the greatest tennis player ever,” he says, spreading his arms out wide. “But you’re terrible at tennis. And you guys are friends right?”

His assertion has you placing your fork down. “Okay, first of all, I’m not terrible at tennis. Secondly, it’s really not fair to compare me to a professional tennis player, K, he’s had years of practice.” Then, you reluctantly think of the last thing he said. About the two of you being friends. 

Images of Art kneeling above you in bed dance through your mind. You think of the last time you were with him. How he’d laid his cheek on your thigh while you threaded your fingers through his tufts of blonde hair. His gaze searing as he watched you in all your post-orgasmic bliss. Your chest was still heaving as you tried to recover.  

You clear your throat. 

“Yeah, um, I guess we are friends.” You avoid eye contact with Kaleb and pray he changes the subject. You don’t want to think about Art. 

Unfortunately, your son is too young to properly read the room. If he was, he’d see the way you’re clenching your fork in your fist. Or he would’ve realized by now that his mom is a harlot. Instead of calling you out on your immorality, he turns to you with express earnestness. “I wanna play tennis like Mr. Art,” he says definitively.

He then furrows his little eyebrows and asks you, “you think I can be as good as him one day?”

You smile, reach over to smooth your palm over his curls, and tug his ear. You say what every parent would. “I think you can do whatever you put your mind to, my little monkey.” 

He grins at you, dimple poking out.

After all, you’re almost certain this is just an eager phase prompted by Lily bringing Tashi to school for career day. Tashi mentioned to you that Kaleb was very eager to ask questions about her job. Apparently, he thought it was super cool that she “got to coach the best tennis players in the world.” You’re worried that before dinner is over he might ask you to put in a word with her about coaching him. 

Once you’ve finished eating, tucked Kaleb in, and tidied up the kitchen, you finally get to relax with a cup of lavender chamomile tea.

Before you settle into the refuge of your bed, you make a note to sign Kaleb up for club tennis. 

ᯓ

You’re at a gas station near Kaleb’s school when you realize your dumb credit card has a faulty chip. You grab your purse and lock the doors to your car, having been forced to go inside the store and pay for your gas the old fashioned way. 

The door shuts behind you with a ring of a bell. The unmistakable smell of fuel fills your nostrils as it mixes with stale coffee and the emblematic stench of small convenience stores. You grumble when you see there’s a short line. 

With a sigh, you take a detour down one of the narrow aisles to grab a pack of gum. You pick out a random pack of spearmint, but your inner child lingers on the yellow packaging of juicy fruit bubble gum sitting beside it. When you were little, your mom would’ve made you pick one or the other. Without a second thought, you pluck the yellow pack out from the shelf and head back towards the front. 

On your walk back, you glance out the windows, checking to make sure the pump you’re parked at is still number 5. 

The line is shorter now. There’s only two people. You think you recognize the dark head of the person standing at the counter. They’re digging through the back pocket of their jeans and pulling out a leather wallet when your cellphone dings. It’s an email notification from your boss. You read the subject header before dropping the phone back into your purse, hoping to avoid whatever stressor awaits you there for a couple more hours or so. When you look back up, you’re met with the face of the dark haired stranger. 

His eyes meet yours. Patrick Zweig sends you a mischievous smile of recognition as he saunters toward you. He snaps his fingers. “I know you.”

“Hi, Patrick,” you say through your tight smile. The last time you’d seen him, he tried to blackmail you into going out with him. If he wasn’t so attractive, you’d probably be repulsed by him. 

“Long time no see.” He pockets his package of Marlboros. “How you been?”

“Um just busy you know,” you hum. “You?” 

He nods. “Same, same.” He looks you over, smile growing wider when he meets your eyes after lingering on your cleavage. He doesn’t even attempt to be discreet. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes to the side.

Thankfully, the bald guy in front of you finishes up his transaction so you have an excuse to say “excuse me” to Patrick as you approach the register. You glance back when you hand your money to the bored cashier, catching one last glimpse of Patrick as he exits through the door. You nibble on the inside of your cheek, feeling the tiniest hint of disappointment. 

You accept your change and two packs of gum and make your way back to your car. Not wanting to waste any more time at this point, you toss the plastic bag into the passenger seat and hurry to pump your gas.  

You’re leaning against the trunk while the fuel fills your tank when you hear a small “hey.” 

You’re startled as Patrick approaches you again. You look around suspiciously. “Um are you stalking me?” 

“No.” He huffs out a laugh. “I was standing over there taking a smoke.” He points towards his beat up suv. You wonder why he doesn’t have a better car. You thought tennis players made money. “And I saw you. Didn’t get to say goodbye earlier.” 

You click your tongue. “Well, bye.” 

“Wait—I hope I didn’t rub you the wrong way last time.” He rubs his palm over the back of his neck. “I kind of have a fucked up sense of humor.” 

“It wasn’t the joke,” you supply. “It was more so you trying to blackmail me into going on a date with you.” 

He laughs. “Yeah, I don’t know why that didn’t work.” The grin he gives you sends a shiver down your spine. 

This time, you smirk, your gaze tracing the length of his body, from his Nikes to the curly wisps of hair flying in the wind. The gas pump clicks, signifying that your tank is full. You don’t remove it right away because you’re busy letting Patrick type his number into your phone. You wish you could say you played hard to get, but that would be a lie of monumental magnitude. 

You don’t actually intend to call him, content to let his number go forgotten in your phone. After all, what type of woman would get involved with the best friend of the man she’s having an affair with? 

Later on, when you’re having a glass of wine, mommy duties complete for the night, you pause on his number as you tap through your phone. You inhale, take a sip from your glass, and quickly save his contact before swiping out of the app. You can blame it on your being slightly tipsy when you notice that he’s saved as “for a rainy day.” 

ᯓ

It turns out that the tennis thing isn’t just a phase. You don’t mind of course. You’d always support your kid in whatever he pursued. The only issue is that Art fucking Donaldson thought it would be a good idea to train little Kaleb. As if you needed more reasons to be around the man.��

You’d told him that you didn’t think it was necessary because your son was only eight years old. Surely, he wouldn’t need a retired professional tennis player to train him. His tennis lessons at the local club would certainly suffice. Plus, you imagined he had more important things to attend to than give private lessons to a third grader. 

On a random weeknight, you’d gone to pick Kaleb up from a play date with Lily, hoping to grab him and get back home before the rain got any worse. Art had greeted you at the door, placing a hand on the small of your back. 

He decided to bring up the topic again. Even Tashi, who was usually busy with training of her own, chimed in, claiming it would be a good opportunity for Art to find real meaning in tennis again. Whatever that meant. Patrick, who you had been avoiding thinking about, once again inserted himself into a conversation, pointing out how young he and Art were when they first started playing tennis. According to him, it was never too early to learn how to properly hit a ball with a racket. 

ᯓ

The thought of Art spending time with Kaleb through tennis is an endearing one if you’re being honest with yourself. But you know you would have an intense fight on your hands should Chris find out. 

Ever since Art had stepped in with your ex at the fall festival, he’d harbored an attitude toward him. He’d gone as far as complaining about all the time Kaleb spent at his house, accusing you of trying to turn your son against him. If it weren’t for the court mandated visits, you’d have simply told Chris to go to hell. But in an attempt to maintain peace for your son’s sake, you reassured him that Kaleb only spent so much time around Art because Lily was his best friend. 

You asked him if it was worth destroying his son’s friendship. He conceded for the time being, but you’re sure if he found out about any extra tennis lessons, he’d blow a gasket. 

Ironically, you had never been offered the freedom to express such possessiveness. You had to be content each and every time your son stayed at his father’s new house with his new fiancée that you barely knew anything about. You handle some occasions better than others. 

This time, though, when you watch Kaleb go through the front door of their luxurious home, Spider-Man backpack affixed on his back, your stomach churns. Chris’ fiancée smiles and waves to you with her left hand. Bitterly, you think it’s a miracle she can even lift it with the large diamond wrapped around her finger. She places her hand on your son’s shoulder, pulling him into their home, as if she wasn’t the one that helped wreck yours. 

Maybe it’s the fact that this past week would’ve been your anniversary, but your shoulders shake with sobs throughout the entire drive home. You sniffle as you think about Kaleb building a life with his soon to be step-mom. You hope she treats him right, but, ultimately, you wish he didn’t have to know her at all. 

It doesn’t help that you aren’t able to bury your sorrows in Art’s chest or on his dick. He’d already told you about the gala he’d be attending that weekend for the Donaldson Foundation. You haven’t seen him since last weekend, and you ache to call him, but the thought makes you feel nauseous when you think about the wretched irony of seeking comfort in a married man. In a decision that’s almost homogeneously pathetic, you sit in your lonely driveway and send a “hey” to ‘for a rainy day.’

ᯓ

It doesn’t take long for Patrick to offer to come over. You send him your location as you pop open a bottle of wine. 

You reach for a glass, your eagerness causing you to apply too much force as you slam the glass down. It breaks under the pressure of your haste, immediately cracking at the stem. The inconvenience is too much for you. You curse before bringing the entire bottle up to your mouth. You take a swig, red liquid spilling out of the corner of your mouth. With a gasp, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Pitifully, your vision starts to blur again as your eyes swell up with hot tears. You resort to sitting on the kitchen floor, taking the occasional drink, and wallowing in your despair. 

You’re propped against the cabinet, knees to your chest as you cradle the green tinted bottle of red wine like a toddler holding a stuffed animal, when you hear your doorbell ring. You stumble to your feet, dragging them as you move toward the door. When you swing the door open, Patrick is standing there with his hands in his pockets. He looks you over once, mumbling that you “look like shit” before stepping into your home as if he’d been there a thousand times. 

He lifts his eyebrows when he sees the neglected pieces of glass on your counter. He looks back at the bottle in your fist before groaning. “Please don’t tell me you’re an alcoholic.” 

You roll your eyes. “No, I’m just having a pretty shitty day.” 

“No shit,” he snorts. 

You send him a glare. “I don’t even know why I called you,” you say and rub your temples. 

“Because I’m obviously easy and you know it.” He smirks. 

It makes you laugh, your red, puffy eyes squinting back at him. 

Patrick eventually convinces you to smoke the joint he’d brought with him. You haven’t gotten high in years, and you find yourself mindlessly rambling about your life as you pass the joint back and forth to him. You’d stopped crying a while ago, your eyes now red because of the weed. 

You and Patrick are lounging on the floor of your living room. You’re dragging your fingers through the shag rug underneath you and leaning your head back on the sofa when you hear him laugh. He sounds like he’s far away, down through a tunnel, but when you turn your head, his face is right beside you. 

“What’s funny?” You grunt. 

He shakes his head. “S’nothing.” 

You frown and shove his bicep. “Tell me,” you say, scooting closer to him. “I hate feeling left out.” 

His smile falters for a second like he’s remembering something, but when you blink he’s sporting a melancholic grin. “It’s just—you kind of remind me a lot of Art.” His head falls to the side to really look at you. “I mean not like completely, and not really how he is now, but when you’re upset—it reminds me of when we were teenagers.” 

“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not,” you say. It comes out as a whisper. Your faces are so close that you don’t want to startle him. 

“Hm.” His eyes flicker to your lips. “Not a good or bad thing. Just a thing.” 

“That’s why you like me?” You mumble teasingly. “Because I remind you of your boyfriend?” 

He smirks, lips so close to yours you feel his breath fan them. “Who said I liked you?” 

“You don’t have to.” You’re just the slightest movement away from kissing him. If you tilt your head just the tiniest bit—

He lets out an almost imperceptible moan when he finally presses his lips to yours. It’s so quiet, you think you might’ve imagined it. It all happens incredibly fast, but feels like slow motion. Your head is fuzzy and your body is tingling as Patrick grabs your waist, hoisting you onto his lap. It takes you a moment to build momentum, your sensory overload working against you.

When you’re finally able to match his energy, the kiss is searing. He’s sucking your lip into his mouth like you’re already his, hands roaming everywhere he can get them. When he bites your bottom lip, you suck in a breath, giving him room to thrust his tongue into your mouth. You mewl at the way your mouths seem to fit together like velcro. Your toes curl and you tighten your fists into his dark locks when you feel his hot tongue traveling down your throat, leaving white hot bites that feel like being branded. His teeth sting and your cunt throbs as you impulsively rut against his length. 

Patrick rubs his large palm over your ass before abruptly smacking it, making you release an embarrassingly airy moan. His teeth tug on your earlobe. “You like that?” 

You only nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

“Hmm?” He mumbles, continuing to lave over the skin behind your ear. His hand comes down on your ass again, harder this time. 

You let out a pathetic squeal and slam your hips down against him in search of some kind of friction to relieve the ache between your legs. “Oh god—please fuck me—“

His mouth meets yours again. You can barely kiss him properly, panting about needing him to fuck you right now. 

He really is easy, you think, but it’s not like you have room to talk.

ᯓ

The first time Patrick Zweig sinks his cock into you, you’re on your knees, face pressed against your rug. The slam of his hips threaten to take your breath away as tears cling to your eyelashes. He’s rough, possessively grabbing your flesh with no regard for potential damage. When he experimentally grips your hair in his hand, tugging your head back gently, you see stars behind your clamped eyelids.

Patrick nearly whimpers at the way it makes you arch your back into his thrusts with increasing intensity. He groans something about you being a slut and fists your hair with less restraint. Your walls clench around him when he wraps his hand around your throat, pulling you to his chest. 

He grunts into your ear. “I knew you liked it rough, could tell from the first time I saw you.” 

The tears have started to spill now. Whether it’s from the humiliation or the utter ecstasy, you aren’t sure. All you know is that you almost sob when Patrick drags his tongue alongside your face, collecting the salty tears.

ᯓ

He buries himself inside you for a second time no more than twenty minutes after you’ve both cum. You gasp and claw at his back as his body presses you into your couch cushions.

You have to admit that Patrick knows how to fuck. Knows how to read your body, tapping into just the right frequency to get you off. 

It’s obvious that you’ve been craving this type of treatment from the way you’re responding to him. But you’re sure that he must have a sexual sixth sense because in the midst of fucking you wildly, he grabs your ankle that’s dangling by his ear, turns his head, and plants a sweet kiss to the bone. It makes you melt into the sofa. 

He leans down to shove his tongue into your open mouth. Softly pats your cheek, relishing in your cock drunk state. 

“Does he fuck you like this?” He murmurs into your neck.

You don’t have to ask who he’s talking about. 

“Huh?” He prods. 

You choke down a moan. “Better. He—“ You cry out when you feel him start rubbing harsh circles into your clit. “He fucks me better.” 

He huffs out a laugh through his smile, but his hips slam down harder as if he’s determined to change your answer. In less than a minute, you’re biting down on his shoulder when you feel another orgasm rack through your body. 

ᯓ

You take a longer break this time. Stopping to pour yourself a real glass of wine. One with its stem intact. Patrick lazily inhales from a cigarette as he watches you, with hooded eyes, attempt to hold a throw blanket over your bare torso. In contrast, he nonchalantly spreads his thighs over your couch, body on full display. 

His eyes leisurely meet yours. They shine prettily in the dim lighting of your home. His dark lashes flutter on each drag of his cig and it makes the corner of your mouth curve up when you take a sip. The lamps have cast a cozy shade of amber over the room. It blankets Patrick’s skin in a golden aura reminiscent of something being baked in an oven. 

Patrick reminds you of the gingerbread man, you think. It makes you press the tips of your fingers to your lips to stifle a giggle. 

He tilts his head at your odd behavior, but he assumes the weed must still be affecting you. 

Once you’ve placed your glass on the coffee table, and he’s put out his cigarette, Patrick is pulling you by the ankle, tossing your blanket to the side and kissing his way down your abdomen. 

You yelp when he captures one of your hard nipples in his mouth but let him press his hot kisses into your skin nonetheless. 

You end up cumming for the third time that night with his head buried between your legs. 

ᯓ

Patrick leaves while you’re asleep. 

When you wake up around 3am to an empty house, you think it’s for the best. You check your phone. You have a missed call from “a.d.” and a text from Patrick that says “had fun” with a winking emoji. You don’t respond to either, instead, opting to pad your bare feet to the bathroom. You desperately need a shower.

In the morning, you tidy up your home from the events of the night before, cringing at what took place on the terracotta colored sofa.

When the buzzing in your head doesn’t stop after cleaning your entire living room from top to bottom, you find yourself in the kitchen, pulling out ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies. 

You’re frantically kneading dough when the doorbell rings. You frown, not expecting company, but clean your hands as best you can as you make your way to open the door. Sometimes, your talkative neighbor, Mrs. Taylor, likes to come knocking on your door early in the mornings. 

You’re surprised to find that Art is standing on the other side with a latte and a bag containing a chocolate croissant. You assume it’s for you. He places his things down on the table by the door, the one that holds your catch all tray, and scoops you up into a hug. 

He groans into it, making you smile. “Hi,” you mumble into his chest. 

“Hi, pretty girl,” his voice comes out equally mumbled. “Missed you.” You can hear the grin in his tone. It makes your heart clench. 

You allow yourself to hold onto him, despite the ever present worry that you should be reining yourself in when it comes to him. He moves to let you go, grabbing your face in his palm and kissing the side of your head. You whine and lock your arms around his waist in protest. You inhale his scent, all warm and familiar. You’ve missed him. 

“Baby,” he laughs into your hair. You grunt, squeezing him tighter. “Okay, c’mere.” He pulls you into him, securely engulfing you in his arms. “I got you, I got you.” 

You eventually release him long enough to walk into your home. 

You’re relieved that you’d been overtaken by a cleaning spell this morning because you fear that Art might take one glance at your couch and figure out who had been here. That he’d smell him in the air. 

You’re afraid he might’ve detected it anyway when he freezes in the walkway separating your kitchen from the living room. You nibble on your lip as you try to search his body for any signs that he’s onto you. 

To your relief, Art is actually focused on the copious amounts of cookie dough you have on the counter of your kitchen island. He turns to you with the all knowing look of a father, his eyes creased with concern. “Oh no, what happened?” 

ᯓ

After a therapy session in which you decide to stop letting your ex influence your decisions from afar, you finally relent, allowing Art to begin practicing with Kaleb on their private tennis court. It seems like since you got involved with their family, that’s all you ever do, give in to everyone’s requests. In any other context, it would be disturbing, but the sight of Kaleb racing to the court with an oversized tennis bag fills you with joy. The bag threatens to pull him down, but his excitement keeps him upright as he makes a beeline for Art. 

You don’t know who’s more excited to see Art between the two of you. Your son’s tennis instructor waves at you from across the court. And you have to fight the rush that flows through you, threatening to cut off your oxygen, and give a simple wave in return. It makes you feel like a kid with a fervent crush. You could gag.

You remind yourself that you’re here for Kaleb. Not you.

You think that as long as you get to see him happy like that, you’d agree to anything. It’s a scary notion, but becoming a mom has made you aware of a lot of terrifying realities. 

ᯓ

It’s this maternal need to preserve your son’s happiness that leads you to another prolonged encounter with Tashi Duncan. She’d caught you when you were dropping him off for tennis lessons one day. Apparently, she had a free day. Lily was spending the day with her grandparents, and Patrick is, thankfully, nowhere to be found. You try to hide your relief when she tells you that. You don’t think you can face him right now. 

She insists you join her in their sunroom while the boys practice. You try to think of an excuse to turn her down, but you decide your karma from sleeping with her husband has built up too much to take the chance of tacking on more. So, when she offers to make you a cup of tea, you oblige and sink down into the fabric of a warm sofa.

When Tashi reappears, she sits down with a cup of steaming hot tea for the both of you. You thank her with a smile, letting your eyes trail over her figure. She looks ethereal. The sunlight pouring through the glass forms a halo of light around her, illuminating her like a Madonna painting. She has her hair pulled back into a low ponytail that causes her to have to tuck the loose strands behind her ear every now and then. The motion makes you take notice of her slim neck and the way her collarbones dip into her loose-fitted button down. Even dressed casually, she looks like a goddess. 

You feel your heart start to beat a little faster and reach to take a sip of your tea. You wonder how she knew that lavender chamomile was one of your favorites.

It’s only awkward for a moment because the two of you quickly fall into a conversation about what she’s missed now that Art has taken over attending the PTA meetings. That’s how you’d initially met her. She had actually been the one who you exchanged communication with about carpool and play dates. Art’s retirement allowed her to focus on tennis and other aspects of raising Lily that she preferred. You giggle when she admits that she never really liked those meetings anyway. You don’t tell her that you always had that inkling. 

When you mention that Cynthia is still advertising her knitting business at every single meeting, she sucks in a laugh before leaning toward you. She presses her lips together, holding in her giggle. “Guess what?”

You squint at her, your expression already anticipating a joke. “What?” You all but sputter out. 

“I’m probably responsible for like half the sales on her Etsy shop.” She says like she’s admitting to something top secret. It’s a lot like the expression Lily takes on when her and Kaleb are playing “secret agent.”

“Girl, what?” You didn’t think she’d be a fan of crocheted animal figures. 

“I ordered one for my mom for Mother’s Day,” she explains. “She fell in love with the thing I swear, thought it looked just like her little Yorkie, next thing you know she’s asking for the link to share with all her friends.” 

You’re snickering into your mug imagining Tashi unintentionally being Cynthia’s best saleswoman.

She smiles at you. “I’m serious. Apparently, amigurumi is the new thing. It’s gonna be flying off the shelves. That’s why I had to go ahead and put in my order.”

“Of course you know the official term.” You toss your head back. “What’s yours look like?” 

“It’s a little tabby cat,” she smiles wistfully. “Like the one I had growing up. Her name was Aphrodite.” 

It’s a fitting name.

You’re biting back a grin as you take a sip from your tea. You sigh at the taste. “How’d you know what type of tea I liked?” You ask absentmindedly. 

“Art mentioned it to me.” 

You freeze. “Art?” 

“Yeah he says you like to make it before bed. Now, he’s hooked on it.” 

All the blood in your body rushes to your head. You feel that unwelcome yet proverbial sinking in your gut. You think you might start projectile vomiting.

“Are you okay?”

You don’t respond. It’s hard to speak when you feel like you’re dangling upside down on a roller coaster.

“Wait… you didn’t think I knew did you?”

For some unintelligent reason, you decide to play stupid. Usually, in times of danger, humans resort to fight, flight, or freeze. You choose fucking idiot. “Knew what?”

“That you’re fucking my husband.” Tashi says quite unceremoniously.

“What—what do you mean?” You squeak out.

“Don’t.” She laughs. “I’ve known the whole time.” 

“How?” Your voice is shrinking smaller and smaller to your ears. The sound of Tashi’s voice, her pert laughter, drowning it out.

“Art tells me everything.”

“And you’re okay with it?” You attempt to ask though you can barely hear it.

You know your question reaches her ears because she shakes her head and tells you, “I suggested it.” 

Your eyes go wide. Her divulgence seems to propel you forward on your metaphorical roller coaster. In a snap, it brings you out of your stupor.

“I told Art that he should fuck you.” She says it like it’s nothing. Like it’s as simple as telling him to pick up some carry out on the way home. 

You’re confused, and your head is starting to hurt from the whiplash, and you wish this ride would end already. “I’m—I’m not sure I understand what’s going on here.”

“Okay, well, Art’s been attracted to you since the day he met you,” she says plainly. “But he’d never actually do anything about it because that’s just who he is. He needed that push—“

“That push?”

She nods. “He needed to know he could do it and everything would be fine. He’s still figuring out how to be open to stuff like this.” She explains, gestures vaguely in the air. “He’d never break up what seemed like a happy marriage, but when it was clear that your marriage was far from happy…well he started to warm up to the idea.”

“What do you mean far from happy?” The shock has you feeling unreasonably defensive.

“Clearly something was off. You never seemed happy with him. You’ve said it yourself that he was a dick.”

“Um—okay, well, I’d say something has to be off if you’re coaching your husband into sleeping with unsuspecting women.” You shoot back. Your gaze is sharp and accusatory.

She lets her eyes fall down to her lap, picking at little buds of lint being exposed by the sun’s glow. “You’re right, something was off between us,” she says like it’s something in the past. Like maybe they’re good now, but at one time they weren’t. “But Art knows how I feel about him.” Then, her gaze returns to you. “Something tells me your husband either didn’t know or didn’t care.”

Her comment strikes a nerve. Chris did know something was off, and she was right, he didn’t care. He made you feel like needing more from him made you selfish. As if the reminder of the vows he made to you was an affront to him. He knew you were unhappy. That you felt ignored. But he didn’t care. When you’d served him the divorce papers, you naively thought that he’d realize what he might lose, that he might beg for your forgiveness, promise to be better. Instead, you watched him sign the document in the same way he’d signed receipts for dinner before closing the tab and tucking the pen inside. 

You think you envy her. Because she has a husband that actually doesn’t want to leave her. 

“Hey.” She grabs your attention. Her voice softens when she sees your glassy eyes peering back at her. “I’m not judging you. I’m just trying to offer an explanation.” 

You work to swallow down the onslaught of emotions threatening to rise up like bile. You release a fractured noise from your throat, letting the revelation fully soak in. “So you really knew this whole time then? Or rather you orchestrated it?” 

“Okay, that’s a little extreme,” she says. “When we found out you were getting divorced, I mentioned to Art that he should pursue you. That’s all.” She shrugs. “I never knew if he’d actually do it or when he’d do it. All I know is that the first night he came home smelling like you, he fucked me like he did when I first agreed to be his tennis coach.” 

“Then, he was constantly meeting up with you or staying to talk after PTA meetings,” her fingers curl to form quotations around the word, talk. “But I knew what was up.” She bites her lip. “It was honestly kind of hot.” 

You frown. The thought of him sleeping with her immediately after being with you has your stomach in knots. The worst part is that you can’t stop wondering if he’d showered first. If he’d cleaned himself up or if he’d went straight to her, buried himself inside her, cock still sticky with your fluids. In a way, it’s like you had also been inside her. If you think about it long enough, you can imagine what it must feel like. So, you don’t think about it. Instead, you fix your gaze on the golden pothos plant sitting on top a table to your right. The tapping of your nail against the ceramic mug fills the silence. 

She gives you a questioning look. 

Ignoring the implications of what she just told you, you settle for the anger you’re feeling instead of dwelling on any confusing arousal. “Do you not realize how fucked up this is, Tashi?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Yeah! It’s fucked!” You throw your hands up. “I mean I’ve been running around feeling guilty, thinking I was a fucking homewrecker while the two of you get off on a cheating kink!”

She can tell you have more to say, so she leans back and lets you go on.

“I mean how could you do that? I was fucking depressed.”

She snorts. “Not so depressed that it ruined your libido. You two have been going at it like rabbits.” Her smirk makes your cheeks burn. 

You place your mug down onto the table. “Wow. You know what?” You’re on the edge of the couch now, body rigid. “You and Art can go fuck yourselves! This is seriously messed up.”

She raises her eyebrows. “As messed up as you fucking another woman’s husband?” 

Her words drip with mirth, and it pisses you off that the fiery look in her eyes is poking at a budding desire in your belly. “This is ridiculous,” you mumble to yourself. You’d rather focus all your energy on being outraged than interrogate why this is kind of turning you on. You’re about to stand up to leave when she places a hand on your arm.

“Are you seriously mad right now?” She asks you. 

An incredulous look takes over your face. “What do you think?” You spit out.

“Well, would you have preferred I not know?” She asks as if you’re the crazy one here.

“I—“ you squeeze your eyes shut, and try to gather your thoughts. “Obviously not, Tashi.” You glance up to the glass paned ceiling. “I just—it would’ve been nice to know what was really going on. I mean he never even told me that you knew.”

“Well, did you ask?” She asks simply. 

Did you? You think back to the past couple of months. The more you and Art hooked up, the more you avoided directly mentioning Tashi. He didn’t bring her up more than what was necessary, so you suspected he was actively trying to keep it from her. 

To be fair, he did mention a couple of times that he’d told Tashi you two were going to meet up for lunch, but you thought he must’ve been leaving out the activities that followed. And if she happened to call him while the two of you were together, he would casually tell her he was with you. You obviously assumed he was downplaying your friendship because there was no way Art would be so nonchalant about a mistress. But, apparently, the word mistress didn’t even apply to you. 

“I mean, I guess I didn’t.” You stammer. “But I feel like that was on him to bring it up to me.”

“Well that’s where you went wrong. Art can get in his own way sometimes.” A pensive expression works it’s way onto her face. “Or maybe part of him did kind of get off on feeling like he was sneaking around.” The thought seems to bring a small smile to her face. 

It still doesn’t make sense to you. You try to tamper down the sinking feeling that you’ve been nothing more than a pawn. “I just don’t understand why you two couldn’t proposition me like a normal couple looking for a third,” you say.

“Who said you were our third?” 

“Oh, so there’s other women you’ve sent Art to fuck?”

“No. I—I don’t just pimp out my husband, okay?”

You back down.

“We already have a…third I guess.”

You look at her with furrowed brows. 

“Patrick.” She answers.

“Patrick? Like Patrick Patrick?”

She nods.

You laugh cynically. You didn’t think this situation could get any worse.

“I know.” She sighs. “I know how it seems—”

“Was that part of the plan too?” You’re out of breath, chest heaving. 

She looks genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?” 

“Me and Patrick,” you blurt. 

“Wait a minute, you’re sleeping with Patrick?” She’s scooting closer to you. 

You shake your head. “It just happened once.” You think of how he’d shoved your face into the rug, fucking into you as he grunted out various obscenities. “I was high. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

She looks away for a moment, brows drawn together tightly. She’s piecing together what you’ve told her. 

“I—I didn’t know he was with you guys,” you try. 

She waves you off. “No, it’s not that.” She sits back. “I’m just not surprised that he wormed his way into your pants. He just couldn’t take that Art had something to himself.” She’s speaking to you, but her eyes are trained ahead. 

“So, you really didn’t set that up too?” You ask meekly. 

“God, no!” She says. “I had no idea.” 

You believe her. 

“Look I don’t care what type of weird shit you tennis players are into, if you guys have wild orgies or whatever. I just would’ve liked to have known that I wasn’t a hypocrite.”

“A hypocrite?”

You nod. “I mean I sit here and give my ex shit for cheating on me with that skinny ass whore from Modesto. Hell! That’s why I got so much fucking alimony.” You’re rambling now. “And, then, I go and let Art fucking Donaldson screw me and then send him back home to play loving father and husband like it’s nothing. God! And on top of it all, I also sleep with his best friend! I became the whore from Modesto.” 

Tashi’s watching you like you’re a kid experiencing big feelings.

“I felt like a home wrecker.” You sniff. “But apparently I’m actually not…because it was your idea, well only Art, not Patrick, and I—it’s all just fucking with my head.”

Tashi swallows. “I honestly thought you’d be relieved to find out.”

She looks at the frown on your face, takes in the way your plump bottom lip is jutting out. She reaches for your hand. “We’ve never really been the best at communicating. Me and Art. For the past year or so, we’ve gotten better at talking to each other, being honest about what we want, but we’re still working on doing that with other people I guess.” You let her thumb rub the back of your hand before you gently pull away. 

You grab your mug again. The handle is cold to the touch. 

“I promise we didn’t mean to fuck with you. Honestly, I think Art really likes you.” She offers you a small smile.

You look into your mug trying to still your reaction. You don’t care. 

Tashi’s gaze feels heavy on the side of your face as you feel her watching your expression. You start to fiddle with your watch. Checking for the time. Except your watch is too busy displaying your increased heart rate to offer the time. 

You sigh. 

She reaches out to you again, but this time she brings her hand up to your face, moving the curls falling down over your eyes. You let her nimble fingers caress your cheekbone before trailing down to your chin, guiding you to look at her. 

She gives you a steady, knowing smile. “You fell for him didn’t you?” 

Your cheeks go ablaze, and you try to look away from her. 

“Hey.” She grasps your chin in a firm, but gentle hold. “It’s okay.” She nods as if it’ll telepathically make you agree. 

You clear your throat. “I know you say that, but this is all new to me.” Your voice is slightly wobbly and you think you might cry. “I—I didn’t think it’d happen but it did. I thought I could get him out of my system but now,” you inhale and press two fingers against your neck, subconsciously trying to self-soothe. “Now, it’s like—it’s like I can’t stop.” Your voice comes out almost like a whisper. Like you’re afraid to admit the truth. 

And, really, you are afraid. You’re fucking terrified. 

You’re scared to fall in love with a man who already has one—two people in his life that he’s in love with. The last time you entrusted a man with your love, he was only meant to love you, and he couldn’t even give you that. 

What if you realize you’re absolutely enamored by Art Donaldson and he realizes the same thing Chris did? That there’s something about you that makes you unworthy of love. That the depth of you is as deep as your cunt goes and that’s it. 

What if he realizes that he already has what he needs in Tashi, even Patrick? What if they realize they actually aren’t willing to share?

You apparently voice the last bit aloud.

Tashi tilts her head, some of her strands have fallen loose again and she wears the prettiest pout on her lips. “Do you want me to prove it to you?” 

You gulp when her hand presses into your thigh, and she brings her face impossibly close to yours, forcing you to hold her gaze. “You want me to prove that I’m okay with it?” Her eyes flit between each one of yours with a level of seriousness you’d expect from someone like her. 

Her expression demands an answer, and so, you give a faint nod, transfixed on the woman in front of you. 

You gasp when you feel her mouth on yours. 

You learn that Tashi tastes sweet when she has her tongue in your mouth. You think you can taste the tartness of the lemon she’d sucked on earlier. It’s good, and you realize you’re fucked because you really like kissing her. 

Her tongue twirling around yours has you panting quietly, and you keen when you feel her manicured nails press into the nape of your neck. You haven’t kissed a woman since your last girlfriend in college, and you find you miss it. Something about it feels like drinking sweet tea on a hot summer day. Climbing into cool sheets at night when you’re bone tired. Or the feeling you get when you discover the song that you’re going to replay for the next week. 

It also makes you feel absurdly wet. 

The two of you work up a rhythm of pulling away for a breath before coming back together like magnets, letting your foreheads gently press together as you breathe deeply, thumbs caressing skin, eyelids fluttering. 

Your tongue is sweeping across Tashi’s lip, on a path to enter her mouth again, when you hear someone clear their throat. 

There’s an audible smack as you yank yourself from Tashi, eyes flying to the doorway of their sunroom. 

Art is standing there staring at you, gaze shifting from your face to the hand you still have placed on his wife’s neck. His jaw is clenched, and his bulge is painfully evident in his pants. 

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: I've been waiting for this since the first post. Let me know how you feel about the reveal <3 as always, my asks are open!

[yeosin-n]

unhinged swap on my mind lately hehe o)-( !!!

I wrote out a bit of headcanons for cadet a while back that I’ll just,,,

Likes to play baseball

Likes tacos (not the crunchy kind) with lots of lime

Swapped but .. is still judge…??

He acts like hes not strong and fails at becoming part of royal guard to keep up a facade

Sometimes his mask slips but it’s ok bc no one will believe you <3

Very tolerant most times bc he has his own way to vent…?

Sans doesn't work on machine maybe?

Hands too full so pap does all the nerd stuff instead

Sans goes around helping ppl with chores or whatever, talking to them

Helps keep their hopes up

Hes cheerful outside but once hes home, he deflates

He has to keep other people happy but theres no one to help make him happy ):

Pretends he cant cook

A lot of things about him is a facade

Maybe he likes that ppl try so hard to pretend to like his cooking? He thinks its funny

Makes him a little happier, sees it as a little harmless payment for making everybody else happy all the time

Observant

Doesn't know too much about timelines and resets but pap would talk to him about it ?

Snowdin fight would be with sans if pacifist/neutral (fake fight, for the facade) and with pap if geno (pap asking you to stop)

You still go on date with pap

Doesn't actually want to meet or catch a human

Lets them get away on purpose and is kind of pushing them onto pap.

Sans is tired.

Sometimes he disappears to nap

Needs to recharge after being so extroverted all the time

Sans would often scold pap for not going outside enough

Like he would also want to stay inside all day but that’s not good for your health

Drags pap along so he gets some air from time to time

Sans’ room is tidy enough

Bed and exercise equipment

No need to have a facade at home

Uses pap as an excuse to not have ppl over

[520-elic]

okay I need nsfw and sfw of masky,hoodie,eyeless jack, laughing jack, and ben drowned

Eyeless Jack headcanons (sfw and nsfw)

Author notes ; sorry I couldn't do everything that you asked, but I will be doing Eyeless Jack! Hope you enjoy it! I love writing headcanons so much

Contains; slightly detailed gore, mention of nsfw things (obviously)

Sfw

Really quiet, he stands like a paralysis sleep demon (no pun intended) at almost every social gathering of some kind

I think he has some vision even though he has no eyes. I think his vision would be very dark and blurry, but if he's looking at direct sunlight it would still be very blurry but it would be somewhat brighter

He definitely has biceps and back muscles (will get into that later hehe)

Absolutely fucking despises the heat. Will avoid it like the plague, even if he's out killing people for his hungry needs

Even though he is a demon, he was human before. So I don't think his teeth would be razor sharp, just sharp enough to cut through human skin and muscle with some elbow grease

Perfers to do everything in silence since he uses his heightened hearing to know his surroundings. Will occasionally listen to some old 70's music if he's not doing anything

Hates touch, but will accept it if it's quick and from his friends or his partner

If you're dating him, he will lay across your lap like a cat. Good luck trying to move for the next 4 hours

Jack is really cold, and I mean really. You could put 4 heaters on him, and he wouldn't break a sweat, but it would be uncomfortable for him (like I said, he hates the heat but will crave it from you if you're dating him)

Tall. I'd say he's around 6'8, so it's to no surprise that someone will jump from suprise if they catch him standing right behind them

Sleeps like a mf TANK. He will be out cold and won't wake up until at least 9 hours later, unless his intuition says there's something wrong

He will eat politely or eat like if it's last meal ever.

He does make animalistic sounds, such as purring, growls.. ect..

Clean freak!!!! Takes atleast one or two showers a day and keeps his room very tidy, probably one of the most cleaned proxies in the mansion. And of course, he keeps his little doctor/nurse/medic corner very sterile

Has scars everywhere since he has a high tolerance to pain and won't really notice if he's hurt until he's showering or something

Very sensitive neck and ears.. 👅

Nsfw

Like I was saying, very sensitive ears and neck. Will let out a groan immediately if you begin kissing his neck and behind his black pointed ears

His main sex positions have to be missionary, mating press, or cowgirl

He definitely knows what he's doing considering he's specialized with the human body.. wink wink

He loves to praise his partner while pounding them hard and fast. Tears filling up their eyes while he licked and kisses them away, saying how good they're being

I agree with the headcanon that most people have of Jack, how he goes into heat at times. So, going off of that, I think he'll stay FAR away from you when he is in heat so he doesn't crush your ribs during sex lmao

Loves to mark you up nice and good, it gets him going whenever you say how you're his. He might have a bit of a possession thing for you..

Speaking of his back muscles and biceps, he loves to flex them subconsciously during sex. He will probably put you in a headlock with one of his biceps when hitting you from the back

He's extremely loud, there's no way to quiet this man, unless you're on top and you bury his face into the pillows (wink wink again)

Muncher to the max. He loves giving more than he receives, but he does love and appreciate whenever you try to give him head

If you're the one praising him, be prepared to walk with a limp for the next few days.

It turns him on whenever you pull his hair or rub his stomach near/on his happy trail. Also if you smell good, he's burying his face into your neck and rutting his hips into you lmao

Speaking of, he's very into dry humping!! Saves the time of taking eachothers clothes off, in his words

A thigh guy

[tomikashii]

Hi hi, just wondering if you could do a tkdb fic thing with a player/reader that shows affection by biting. Like, they're happy or just feeling super affectionate and leans over to just nom on the ghoul's arm or back or shoulder.

Also, not affection with biting like when they're mad or annoyed; although angry ones hurt and affectionate ones are just a nom (or possible hickey). Like, the angry one is just a hard chimp that will VERY MUCH leave teeth marks (for example, a ghoul keeps sticking their hand near the face, gets annoying so just chomp).

Feel free to not do it, I just thought it'd be a funny idea considering how a few of the characters are (Specifically Ed with his vampire-ness and Rui with bites through clothes (also Taiga but we ignore that he'll spawn))

tokyo debunker : the ghouls with mc who bites out of affection/no affection

to anon : thank you so much for the ask !! 🩷 I REALLY HAD A BLAST WITH THIS CONCEPT !! i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing this <33

⚠️ : some are a little suggestive (?) so minors DNI !

frostheim

jin kamurai

he was ordering you around his room, asking you to clean his laundry & keep his room tidy.

you finally had enough of his constant micro-managing around his room that pounced on his back, before grabbing his shoulders and bit on him.

“.... what are you doing ?” he asked, with his face in an unreadable expression as you continued chewing on his arm. (he finds it cute though)

tohma ishibashi

another one who micro-manages around you and would tease you

you finally had enough and bite on his arm, making him look up at you in surprise

small smile crept on his face as he analysed your grumpy expression as he apologises for his teasing (he is not, he continued teasing you)

lucas errant

was super shocked when you suddenly bit him out of affection and how ‘cute he was being’

his brain was processing, thinking that maybe you were hungry and offered you his biscuits

after explaining to him, he smiles and said that he will take note of the small habit of yours

kaito fuji

starts screaming because he thought you have lost all your sanity

after he realises that you are just biting him because you are mad about his unnecessary overthinking, he got embarrassed

would want you to bite him more often🧍🏻‍♀️(the hinting was CRAZY)

vagastrom

alan mido

another “are you okay ? are you hungry ?”

he was so confused as you continued chewing his arm out of affection when he was telling you about how you shouldn't get involved with him

the biting didn't really hurt him btw, it just felt like the campus cats nibbling onto him playfully

leo kurosagi

starts yelling because it HURTS HIM

calls you crazy after that but it doesn't stop him from continuously waving his hand at your face or teasing you

now he has better reflexes whenever he knows you are gonna bite down at him

sho haizono

this guy is so amused as you bite on him when he was teasing you

“woah, did i forget to feed you ?” he teases again as you roll your eyes and then biting on him harder

he starts laughing (OH MY GOD) even harder and starts apologising while laughing

jabberwock

haru sagara

“WHAT ARE YOU ? PEEKABOO ?”

starts laughing wholeheartedly as he compares you to peekaboo. (lets face it, he would take it as a regular occurrence)

would pat your head too as you bite on his arm 😭 (he REALLY doesn't take you seriously)

towa otonashi

confused. just confused. starts laughing because he thinks you are so cute biting onto him

then he realises that you reminded him of the fox that bit haru and he bites you back (?)

yea you never bit him after that because towa's version of biting gave you a big hickey on your arm 💀

ren shiranami

another one who calls you crazy

would threaten to get ritsu to sue you as you bite on him harder

he got used to it though and whenever you bite him, he just yells and apologises for whatever he did that made you bite down on him

sinostra

taiga hoshibami

“getting bold now, kitty-cat ?” he smirks as you bite down on his arm.

you must have the balls of steel to even think of biting down on taiga. (you were never to be seen again as you disappeared into his room)

now he leaves bite marks around you and expects you to leave him some as well

romeo scorpio lucci

STARTS YELLING (with red tinted cheeks)

compares you to taiga LOL “DO YOU WANT TO BE THE SECOND BTH, BB ?!” he yells as you your teeth still biting down onto his arm

- would immediately jump away when he notices you ready to grab his arm to bite it down again

ritsu shinjo

the moment you bite down on him when he was lecturing you about some law article, he instinctively hardened his body in response (your TEETH HURTS)

defends himself and used a law statement that you are not allowed to bite him with no consent

no actually he is pretty embarrassed by your nibbling & now, he doesn't harden his body in instinct around you anymore

hotarubi

subaru kagami

shocked and even thought that lyca's werewolf instincts was rubbing off you 💀

would laugh when he felt your nibbling on his arm and realised that you were just joking around

would want you to do it again but would awkwardly initiate it (just bite him again please)

haku kusanagi

he kept waving at your face and teasing you so much that you had enough and started to BITE DOWN on his fingers

startled yes but starts laughing out loud, comparing you to a cat

would take this as a green light to tease you more and even think that he should bite you too......

zenji kotodama

how are you going to bite him ? 💀

okay but if you somehow do, he would be suprised and yelled out loud, making the doll artifact CHASE YOU

and now you are running down the halls of the hotarubi dorm while the artifact is RIGHT behind you

obscuary

edward hart

calls you lyca 2.0

takes it as a green light that he can bite you too.... (but in a more suggestive way)

so don't be surprised that after you bite him down, his fingers are already at the back of your neck 😳

rui mizuki

HE WAS SO SHOCKED AND HE PANICKED, TRYING TO SHAKE YOU OFF HIS CLOTHES

immediately starts apologising and begs you to stop biting him (he is scared that his curse would go through his clothes)

after that, he was pretty amused with your biting that he started teasing you again (immediately holding his hands up in surrender when you ready to bite him again)

lyca colt

would jump and his ears + tails will pop out because it was so sudden

now this is the part where you explain to him that YOU only do it, not other people & he shouldn't take it as a green light to do it on others 😭

ya no, he bites you back and now subaru is questioning you on why lyca is biting him out of affection...

mortkranken

yuri isami

“WHAT SCANDALOUS ACTION ARE YOU DOING TO ME ?!?!” with furiously red cheeks and sweat

bans you from mortkranken for awhile because he couldn't stop thinking about you biting down on his arm

even thought of giving you a rabies shot.... (jiro talked him out of it)

jiro kirisaki

noncholant king

takes it as a regular occurrence and would even question why are you doing it & was that a reason in particular

he would watch (with slight fondness in his eyes) you bite down on him aggressively (he pictures you as an angry cat)

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (38/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Merry Christmas - *narrator voice* and there was only one bed.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: HE WON IN MONACO - HE WINS IN MONZA. CHARLES LECLERC IS THE WINNER OF THE 2024 ITALIAN GRAND PRIX!!!

You purse your lips. “Bed - singular. Indeed.”

Charles and you stand in the doorway of his room. On the left wall next to a chest of drawers is a door that leads into a small bathroom, while on the right wall is a double bed, freshly made up. Several pillows are neatly arranged at the headboard, the bedside tables have been dusted and the room generally looks very tidy and well-kept. At the foot of the bed are your bags, which Pascale has just put there. Your bags - because you have to share the bed tonight.

“Yep,” replies Charles, who is standing behind you. 

You nod slightly before entering the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. “What makes your mom think we're sharing a bed?” 

Your roommate shrugs. “Do you remember the first morning in our apartment? When mom surprised us and invited us over for dinner?” He raises one of his arms, puts his hand on the upper door frame and leans against it. 

You nod. “I remember.”

“And do you also remember Maman saying that, as my new girlfriend, you get to choose what's for dinner?” When you look at him with wide eyes, he purses his lips into a thin line. "I'm afraid we never set the record straight. Not even when Arthur called you my girlfriend.”

He's right. There have been several opportunities to clear this up. Charles could have called his mother or spoken to her at dinner. And you could have cleared things up too - but neither of you actually did. 

You push the thought that you didn't clear it up because you inwardly wish that you were actually Charles' girlfriend to the back of your mind. 

“Shouldn't we tell her?” you ask hesitantly. “After all, we're lying to your family.”

Charles shrugs his shoulders. “We certainly should,” he replies, but he doesn't sound convincing. “But not today. Not at Christmas. Maman loves you so much that I don't want to do this to her at Christmas. If that's all right with you.”

Pretending you two are a happy couple is certainly the last thing you should do - after all, being affectionate in such close quarters isn't particularly conducive to keeping your feelings in check. But you have no choice - after all, you don't want to spoil Pascale's Christmas. 

“I'll sleep on the floor,” Charles snaps you out of your thoughts and points to the space between the foot of the bed and the dresser facing the bed. “I'll just take a few pillows off the bed and one of the thick blankets from the wardrobe and that should be enough for one night.”

You shake your head. “Absolutely not. You're going to training camp soon and you certainly can't go there with back pain,” you remind him, planning his days ahead. “I think Andrea would kill you if you didn't show up in top shape.”

The Monegasque sighs. “And how are we supposed to handle this?” 

The look on his face is the same as when you were standing opposite each other in the living room. When he said that he didn't want you to feel uncomfortable around him. When he suggested you go back to being friends. 

You miss him so much that it hurts. You'd love to get up and wrap your arms around him and never let go, but that's where the problem lies. His “mon ami” draws a clear line between what you want and what he wants. And you have to accept that, even if it breaks your heart. 

But that doesn't mean he has to pull his back out just because he thinks his closeness makes you uncomfortable. 

“We could share the bed,” you suggest as nonchalantly as possible. When he gives you a puzzled look, you shrug. “It's only for one night. And the bed is big enough for both of us. Then nobody has to sleep on the floor and Andrea won't kill you because you're going to camp with back pain.”

Charles raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure?” He takes his hand off the doorframe and walks towards you to sit on the edge of the bed next to you. “I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I really don't mind sleeping on the floor.”

You smile at him. “It's okay,” you reply, "we're adults. We can share a bed quite reasonably. And it's only for one night. We should be able to manage that.” You look down at your hands in your lap before looking your roommate in the eye again. “I would have rather expected that we'd still have to sleep in separate rooms, even though your mom thinks we're a couple.”

Charles leans backwards, propping himself up on the bed with his elbows. “Why is that?” 

“Well - some moms don't like their sons' girlfriends because they're afraid they'll take them away from them. Their little boy.” You can't suppress a grin. “And I don't think many would want their little boy to share a bed with their girlfriend either - even if they're all grown up.”

“That would imply that my maman can't stand you,” he replies and tilts his head back. As he swallows, his Adam's apple bounces up and down. “Besides, even if we were really together, I wouldn't have sex with you in my maman's house. I have that much decency - for now,” he grins and looks at you again. “And she knows that too. That's why she allows us to share a bed.”

As he talks about sex with you, heat shoots up your face and your hands get sweaty. Hopefully he doesn't notice you wiping them on your dress. “I like your mom,” you deflect from the topic. 

“She likes you too,” he replies and sits up straight again. “Then let's not keep her and the others waiting any longer. After all, Christmas is a family holiday." He slowly gets up from the bed and turns to face you as he stands in the doorway. “Let's go, mon ami. Otherwise we'll get into trouble because she'll think we're getting it on like two teenagers who can't keep their hands off each other."

Thank God he leaves the room so that you can wave your hand in your face. His words make your pulse quicken so that you can almost hear your heart beating in your ears. Images appear in your head of his hands gliding over your body and his lips kissing your neck. 

Before your thoughts take over, you jump up from the bed and smooth down your dress to follow your roommate back downstairs, where the rest of the family is already waiting for you. You enter the living room, where the youngest Leclerc puts his arm around your shoulder. 

“Listen, when we play Monopoly later, the others will insist that you take the bank,” Arthur whispers in your ear. “If you'd be kind enough to slip me more money than I'm entitled from time to time, then -”

“Arthur! Are you trying to bribe my girl?” Charles calls over to you from the kitchen. The 'my girl' makes your knees go weak. 

“I would never do that,” Arthur tries to defend himself and pulls you a little closer to him. “I'm just talking about how nice it is that your girlfriend is spending Christmas with us.”

“You're a bad liar,” Charles grins, leaning against the worktop. “Besides - do you really think she should help you cheat if I'm playing as well?”

“No one cheats at Monopoly here, otherwise I'll throw the game away and we'll never play it again,” Pascale interjects. “I don't want my sons to get nasty again just because they can't behave in a board game.” She joins her middle child in the kitchen to take two bottles of wine from the fridge and put them in his hand. 

“Hey!” Arthur lets his arm slide off your shoulder to embrace his mom. He rests his cheek against the top of her head. “You're acting like we're cavemen.”

Pascale rolls her eyes. “Then don't act like one just because you can't keep it together in a board game. Now set the table, dinner will be ready soon.”

Together, you place plates and cutlery on the dining table as Enzo and Charlotte join you. The young woman hugs you tightly, while the eldest of the Leclerc brothers waves hello.

“It's nice to see you again,” she smiles and hugs you tightly. “You'll be the bank later - and my partner in crime, yes?” she whispers, before letting you go again. 

Charles laughs out loud. “I heard that, Charlotte,” he warns her with a grin and stands next to you. “I think it's funny that you all think she'd associate with you when she's my girl.”

Charlotte winks at you. “It was worth a try.”

As you all sit together at the table and eat, you look around the room. There are Christmas decorations everywhere that weren't there a few days ago. There's even a Christmas tree in the living room, but there are no presents underneath it. When Pascale notices your gaze, she smiles at you and puts her hand on yours. 

“We don't give each other presents at Christmas anymore,” she says, looking around. “Since -” Charles clears his throat as she swallows hard. 

“After my father died, we decided that there would be no more presents at Christmas because family is the greatest gift you can get,” he explains, pursing his lips. “Dad always gave the best presents and when he was gone, it was different for us.”

You smile at him before squeezing Pascale's hand. “Thank you for letting me be here. It really means a lot to me.”

“You're always welcome here,” she replies. “I'm glad Charles met you. You can almost see how good you are for him and how much he loves you.”

“Maman.” Charles rolls his eyes and a blush shoots into his cheeks. “This is totally embarrassing.”

“I'm just telling it like it is,” she smiles, leaning over to whisper something in your ear while the others continue to talk. “But don't you dare help him with Monopoly later. After all, I invited you here and cooked the meal. I guess I deserve a few extra bucks,” she winks, before turning her attention back to the others' conversation. 

You look at Charles, who smiles at you expectantly. “Everything all right?” he asks you. His hand, which is resting on his leg, twitches as if he wants to reach for yours. 

You look around for a moment, watching the family members interacting lovingly and celebrating Christmas together, before turning back to him. “It couldn't be better.”

-

“You're taking the piss,” Arthur complains, jumping up from his chair with such a jerk that it tips backwards. “You'll never have enough money to buy the fourth station from Charlotte!”

You raise an eyebrow and hand Charlotte the banknotes as she slides the playing card over to you. "Do you really think I'd cheat on you guys? This is my first time playing with you!”

Pascale shakes her head. “Think about it, Arthur. She's simply done well. Look at how many streets - “ she starts to defend you, but falls silent before looking at you with her head tilted back. “Where did you get the money to afford so many streets?”

“Maman!” Charles interjects. “You can't just accuse my girlfriend of stealing money from the bank just because you're losing. That's not nice. Especially not at Christmas.”

Enzo rolls his eyes. “You're only saying that because she's your girlfriend. Love has made you blind, little brother.”

Charles smiles lovingly at you. “I guess it has. But that's okay. I don't mind losing to you.”

You return his smile sweetly. “That's good,” you reply and take a look at the pitch. “Because I've won.”

The Leclercs stare at the table, puzzled and amazed, as if you've shown them a magic trick. But really - there's no way they could beat you now. 

Charlotte laughs. “I didn't even know you could actually win Monopoly. I thought it was a myth.”

Enzo takes a sip of his wine and nods at her. “You usually stop the game after three hours because you either don't feel like playing anymore or someone knocks over the board.”

“And it's usually you,” laughs Pascale and gets up from the table. “Very well. I declare the evening over for me. I'll see you in the morning,” she smiles at you before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I'm very glad you're here.”

“Me too,” you smile at her and look after her as she leaves the room. 

The five of you tidy up the room and put everything neatly away in the cupboards before you say goodbye to each other as well. In the bathroom of your room, Charles and you get ready for bed and change into your sleeping clothes before standing in front of the bed that you have to share. 

“Is it really okay for you if I sleep in the bed too?” Charles asks uncertainly as you sit down on the bed and slip under the covers. 

“I wouldn't have offered if it wasn't,” you smile, patting his side of the bed. “We're both adults. And as long as it's okay for you, it's okay for me.”

Charles nods and scratches the back of his neck. “I really wouldn't mind sleeping on the floor.”

“I do.”

He can't say anything in reply. He slowly walks around the bed and slips under the covers as well. He turns off the light and lies down on his back. 

The silence between you is strange and the physical distance doesn't make it any better. You can feel Charles' body heat through your shirt and shorts and it almost feels like the last few days haven't happened. You'd love to snuggle up to him and fall asleep by his side. 

“Be honest,” Charles breaks the silence. “Did you steal money from the bank in Monopoly?”

You giggle briefly. “I did.”

Your roommate's laughter booms through the room. “I knew it! Oh my God!” You feel him turn to his side. “Welcome to the family. You're a real Leclerc now!” he laughs, barely able to contain himself. 

“Psht!” you hiss at him. “Stop laughing! Otherwise you'll give me away and I'll lose my honorable Monopoly victory!”

“Honorable?” he asks and continues to snort. “You cheated!”

“And your family asked me to take money out of the bank for them so they could win,” you grin. “They're the worst family when it comes to Monopoly!”

Charles slowly gets himself under control again. “But otherwise we're a nice family, aren't we? Otherwise you wouldn't have spent Christmas with us.”

You nod, even though he can't see you. “I love your family.”

“And they love you. Especially Maman.”

You turn on your side too, in his direction. Apparently you're closer together than you expected, because you can feel his breath on your face. 

“Is everything okay?” Charles asks quietly. “I mean - I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me. I - I can still sleep on the floor if you want.”

“Charles,” you exhale, but before you can say anything, he continues speaking. 

“I meant what I said to you on the boat. I can't be without you anymore and I'll do everything I can to make sure you don't turn your back on me. Nothing in this world is as important to me as you.” He takes a deep breath and exhales. “I can't describe it. You're my best friend - but so much more.”

As he moves, you feel the blanket slip over your body. You want to reach for his hand, to reassure him that you will never turn your back on him, but the words stick in your throat. Not because they're not true, but because they don't cover the whole truth that's inside you. 

You love him. With every fiber of your being. 

“You're the person I think of first thing in the morning. The person I look forward to the most when I get home. When you're with me, it's - I don't know - like we're permanently out on the open sea and the sun is shining down on us,” he confesses, without even thinking about what that might do to you. 

“And I can't stop thinking about how you felt. How warm your skin is, how soft you feel under my hands. How the heat spreads through me when you touch me. It's like touching the sun and burning myself - but I can't stop thinking about how good it feels. You're my best friend,” he breathes out. “But fuck - if I said I didn't actually crave you, that would be an outright lie.”

You can feel the arousal gathering in your shorts, goosebumps spreading across your skin and heat rising in your face. When Charles suddenly moves and turns on the little light on the bedside table, you look at him. 

“I can't share the bed with you if - if you -” he stammers, before taking a deep breath to sort out his thoughts. The comforter that was covering you a moment ago has slipped so far down due to his movements that it's below his hips - revealing his shorts and the bulge underneath. 

“Charles,” you breathe, but you don't know how to answer him without telling him directly that you love him. You have to pull yourself together. 

“I can't just lie next to you because it's tearing me up inside that I can't touch you, because I make you feel so uncomfortable that you don't want to share a bed with me in our apartment anymore.” His voice trembles, as does his hand, which is resting on his thigh. 

You don't know what makes you do it, but apparently your brain goes blank and throws all doubts overboard as you lean over to him. His eyes are glued to you as you carefully place your hand on his and your fingertips touch the soft skin of his thigh. A lightning bolt twitches through your veins at the touch - nothing has ever felt as good as he does at this moment. “I never said I was uncomfortable, Charles.” You shake your head slightly. “Quite the opposite.”

Charles looks into your eyes, trying to see anything in them, hesitation or uncertainty, but the only thing he sees is warmth and a longing he knows all too well. 

He squeezes your hand twice, and when you return his squeeze and squeeze his hand twice too - he snaps.

[stariekis]

a room for two

🛋️ pairing : 엔하이픈 ot7 + gn!reader . genre : fluff . cw : kisses + skinship

— synopsis : visiting their room for the first time <3

— note : finally i had the inspiration to write smt 🙌🏻 sorry for being inactive lately babies but here you have more ot7 content ! hope you enjoy reading it, as always reposts and feedback are so welcome <3 sending the biggest kiss ^3^

heeseung :

we all know how big of a gamer he is so i know that he would have one of those professional gamer set ups in his room, the one that streamers usually have. and, as he has shown us, he collect figures too so a big shelf full of them is a must in his room. — 'this is were i spend most of my time' he said, sitting on his chair — 'now i know where you are when you don't answer my text am i right?' you answered, joking obviously. he rolled his eyes at your comment, taking you hand on his and making you sit on his lap, his hands now resting on you thighs. you admired his room, he didn't have a lot of decoration but it was so like him. — 'i think i like your room more than mine, i might come over more' you said turning to him. he giggled at your comment, you just made him the happiest boy ever. pecking your lips he answered — 'you are more than welcome doll' giving you another kiss, this one lasting more than the other one you both just shared.

jay :

i've always imagine him having the tidiest room ever. but, because it was the first time sleeping with you, he wanted his room to look ten times better. he cleaned everything up, light up candles and changed his sheets, it needs to be perfect. when you entered his room for the first time you were welcomed by the coziest room you've ever been, the aroma of vanilla flooded your nose —'you like it love?' jay said, standing on the door frame while looking at your curious figure eyeing up his room. — 'hope you do because you will spend a lot of time here from now on' he was now hugging your waist from behind. — 'i like that idea actually' you answer him, receiving a kiss on your neck from him.

jake :

his room was, to your surprise, very organized. you thought that his room would be kind of messy but everything was perfectly placed, not a single dust speck visible. — 'don't be fooled, his room is not always this tidy' you heard jay say as he passed in front of jake's room — 'WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT MAN' he shouted stepping out of his room, hearing jay laugh down the hallway right after. taking his arm and pulling him inside again you hold both of his hands — 'baby it's fine, i wouldn't mind at all' you pecked his pouty lips, he didn't want you to know (even though you would end up discovering it, but not know at least) — 'now that you know my secret i don't have to clean every time, is tiring you know?' grabbing you by the waist he lifted you off the ground and sat the both of you on his bed, spending the rest of the day in each other's embrace.

sunghoon :

he would have the most minimalist room out of them. lots of framed pics perfectly placed on his walls — 'you took all of them?' you said sitting on his desk chair, they were the first thing that caught your attention — 'each and every one of them yeah' a smile plastered on his face as he answered your question, feeling proud that you liked his pics that much. you turned around on his chair now facing him who was sitting in his bed with his camera on his hand — 'wait baby i want to take a picture of you stay there' you smile at the camera, the flash appearing right after —'why do you want a picture of me here hoon?' you asked him, getting up from his chair and making your way towards him, standing in between his open legs. he put his camera aside and grabbed your hips looking up at you — 'because i like to take pictures of pretty views and you are the prettiest one i've ever seen'.

sunoo :

i just know that sunoo would have tons of cute plushies on his bed ): so as soon as you opened the door you were welcomed by a pile of plushie on top of his bed — 'you put them away when you sleep right?' you said, he looked at you with a shocked expression — 'no i don't, how could you say something like that?' your expression changed into a shocked one — 'how are we going to fit in your bed then my love?' you said putting your hand on you hips while looking at his bed. — we will make it work don't worry' he concluded, smiling at you. the next morning you found all of his beloved "friends" on the floor, a reminder to put them aside the next time.

jungwon :

like sunoo i thing he might have tons of plushie on top of his bed, mostly fan gifts. when you entered his room and saw all the cat plushies you smiled turning towards him — 't-they are not mine they are from jay i'm just keeping them here... yeah' you laugh at his reaction, sitting on his bed and taking one on you hand you out it next to you boyfriend's face — 'they look like you thought' he took from your hands the plushie and looked at him with a smile adoring his face. sitting next to you in his bed he looked at you, sighing — 'you didn't believe it right?' you shook your head hearing him laugh as he lay on his bed, you followed right after. — 'but having that many plushie of yourself is a bit self-centered don't you think' you jokingly said, looking at his side profile. he pinched your side while mouthing a 'shut up', hearing you giggling right after.

ni-ki :

he would be a nervous wreck my baby </3 and i know for a fact that he would hide all his plushie in his closet so you won't see them, he thought that you might find it ridiculous. the idea was fine at first but his secret was soon to be discovered when you opened his wardrobe and a tiny duck plushie felt in front of you. he was laying on his bad looking at his phone so he didn't realize what just happened. you made your way towards him with the little duck on your hand — 'this is so cute why was him on your closet' he looked up from his phone but as soon as he made eye contact with the thing on your hands he rolled on his back and hid his face on his hands — 'you weren't supposed to see that babe' laughing at him you sat down on top of him putting the stuffed animal up in his face telling him how similar they were. a long night was ahead for the both of you.

[bluebnny]

Out of control - part 2

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

trafalgar law x reader

contents: reader teases law, suggestive, but probably counts as smut, established relationship, everything that happens is consentual

warnings: NSFW, MDNI, law feels up reader, a lot of teasing from law in general, very light bondage - reader is technically gender neutral (ie. no use of pronouns), but has a vagina

a/n: ok, so remember how i wrote in the last one that i would make a part 2 because i'm too much of a yapper to actually get to the smut? yeah... i didn't get to the smut this time either, sorry. This part is the foreplay and setup, so the next and final part will definitely be smut :). Mostly proof-read. Dividers made by me. I hope you enjoy <3

word count: 3.504

The steady hum of the Polar Tang’s engine greets you once more as you leave Law’s office. You don’t immediately go back to work like you had let him believe. Instead, you make your way to the old storage room, walking fast.

The old door creaks a bit as you enter, but this level of the ship is almost always deserted, so you know you have nothing to worry about. Still, you don’t slow down once inside the room, your destination clear in your mind. Aside from the fresh layer of dust coating everything, the storage is in pristine condition, which is a fairly recent development.

A few months back, Law someone had made a huge deal out of some dumb old medical textbook getting misplaced. You and a few other crewmates had been tasked with cleaning out the room, spending the better part of a month tidying, scrubbing, and sorting everything in there until the air in the entire level felt clearer. You had taken your job very seriously, having turned the dingy and disorganized old room into a proper archive.

Everything is now so well organized that every single item has its own place, even some unusual ones you and your crew mates had had a lot of fun arguing over the categorisation of. You had ended by rounding up all the weirdest items no one could agree on and decided on their categories by coming up with funny ways to use them. The rule had been that whatever category could fit the most items in it would win, the logic being that it was more efficient than judging each item separately.

That’s how you had decided on the name of the box you’re headed to, now. You reach the desired row of shelves and don’t hesitate before diving into a box jokingly labelled “emergency supplies: use next time captain rejects bedrest while sick” which had been occupying your mind for months. Because aside from a few running jokes between you and your fellow crewmates, the odd items you found had also given you a new idea.

You rummage around between the various objects in there, pushing aside some random pieces of rope that weren’t rotten enough to discard, an old toy gun no one knew the origin of, a foam knife that must have been a prop for a halloween party at some point, a leather belt no one had claimed, and a real taser that no longer worked. Your hand finally closes around the item you were looking for.

“Still there.” You smirk, quickly closing the box again and sneaking out of the room before anyone notices the open door.

…

Dinner is lively as usual, and a very welcome opportunity for you to avoid Law a little longer. Not that he would ever do something in front of the crew, that’s not what you’re worried about. This time, there is a different reason for you not meeting his gaze. You have a plan. A way to take your revenge. But you know that if you look at him, Law will immediately know something is up. So, the best option is to immerse yourself in the conversation around you, letting him think that nothing is out of the ordinary, and that your avoidance is simply still due to being flustered from earlier.

When you’re done eating, you don’t immediately go back to your shared room even though you can barely contain yourself from anticipation. It’s important to act normal, to not let your nervousness show. So, despite how tired you are, you linger a little like you usually would, chat a little more, and join in on a few activities, acting like you don’t have a care in the world.

Law is already in the room, having left with a glance to you that clearly communicated that he wanted you to join him. But you had simply pretended not to get the obvious message, instead smiled at him innocently and said, “Oh you’re going to bed? Good idea, you must be exhausted after working so late yesterday.” Quickly trying to focus your attention on the card game, as if you weren’t already losing from your lack of concentration.

When you do finally decide to get up about an hour later, you rush to your room, not knowing if the rapid beating of your heart was due to excitement or nausea. You don’t even look at him upon entering, heading directly to the bathroom, and quickly grabbing your toothbrush. You hear his footsteps follow behind you, and he speaks after a moment.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Law’s voice is level as usual, and you look into the mirror over the sink to see him standing in the doorway. You’re already brushing your teeth, having done it partly in the hope that it would hide the way your hands were shaking a little, partly to have an excuse not to speak. But Law is, unfortunately, patient, and stays where he is.

You can’t help but admire him a little. His hat is off again, and the way he’s casually leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed highlights his toned physique and broad shoulders. He had put on the white tank top and light grey pyjama pants that he usually wears to sleep. He also has that look on his face again, the same one he had in his office earlier, and you’re starting to wonder if Law knows how ridiculously attractive he is.

You have to quickly spit out the toothpaste to hide the fact that you were just about to start drooling. “Have I?” You ask him, still trying to sound innocent. You’re not turning around, unable to pull your eyes away from his reflection.

He steps behind you now, hands on your shoulders, gaze locked on yours through the mirror. The dark circles framing his lower eyelids only deepen the effect that his bedroom eyes already have on you. It’s quite unfair, really. You also see how flustered your expression is, and he smirks at that and leans down to trail some light kisses down the side of your neck. Your sharp intake of breath only spurs him on, becoming a bit rougher and sucking down, clearly aiming to leave bruises.

He turns you around, still holding your shoulders, leaning in as if to kiss you, but not letting your lips touch. He’s taller than you and can easily stay out of reach of your lips, which just about reach his shoulder. “Yes, you have.” He mutters.

“Well, I’m not anymore.” You respond, trying to reach his face “I’m actually trying my very best to kiss you right now.” Deciding to wrap your arms around the back of his neck in an attempt to pull him down by sheer strength alone.

“Good, because I wasn’t planning on letting you avoid me much longer.” There’s a moment at first where he doesn’t budge, his only purpose to show you how easily he could overpower you if he wanted, demonstrating that he’s only kissing you because he chooses to, not because you’re putting most of your body weight into it. But he finally obliges and catches your lips in a heated kiss.

Together, you stumble to the bedroom, both trying your best not to break the kiss. You subtly push him backwards against the bed until the backs of his knees are touching it, and press on his chest a little, indicating that you want him to sit down. He completely ignores this, however, instead spinning you around and guiding your waist in a similar way. When you don’t budge, he doesn’t hesitate to simply bend down and pick up your legs, so your now unsupported torso drops back onto the bed.

You let out a surprised yelp when your head sinks into the soft blanket, but he ignores it. Instead, he spreads your legs and kneels down between them, bending down to continue making out as if nothing had happened. His hands are on your sides again, and before you know it, he gently lifts your torso and drags you further up the bed. Simply positioning you the way he wants you if you won’t take the hint and do it yourself.

His mouth is hot against yours, and just like every other time you’re in this position, you’re taken aback all over again by how good of a kisser he is. He’s kissing you so well you feel a little lightheaded, struggling to regain control. But you’re not giving up this easy, although it’s definitely tempting.

“Wait, Law. Stop.” You manage to breathe out between kisses.

“Hm?” He looks up, clearly confused, but respects your request. “Do you not want to?”

“No, I do! It’s just…” You look down a little flustered “Just, can you lie on your back? Maybe?” God, is it always this tough to meet his gaze?

His expression immediately turns to one of mischief. You can’t ignore the fact that he looks quite intimidating when he’s turned on, his lean frame towering over you with ease, eyes fixed on you like a predator about to devour his prey. It’s probably helped by the fact that he only smiles when he’s either about to fuck you, or about to murder someone. Your stomach tightens deliciously.

“Why.”

It’s not spoken like a question. It’s a challenge. He sees right through you, knows exactly what you’re trying to do. And he’s not going to make it easy for you. If you’re going to attempt being in charge, you can’t expect him to simply comply. Still, he doesn’t want to push back too much just yet, wanting to see where this is going.

“I uhm… I don’t know. Just want to change things up a bit, that’s all.” If you were looking at him, you would see the way he smirks darkly at you, but you’re too preoccupied with fiddling with the neckline of his tank top to notice.

For the second time that night, he lifts you up without warning, by your waist this time. Before you can understand what happened, he’s falling back against the mattress, with you on top, straddling his lap. His hands are firmly planted on your sides, eyes still locked on your face. In your surprise, you look at him, noting his cocky expression.

“Well?” God he’s a bastard.

You just lean down to kiss him again, knowing it’s best to avoid answering. Law is too smart for his own good, so trying to win an argument against him now that you’re not thinking straight is an even worse idea than it is usually.

You do everything you can to show him you want to take control this time. Pushing down on his chest when he leans up into the kiss a bit too much, holding his face and neck like he always does when kissing you. And you see why he does it. God, this feels good. You start to feel a weird sort of craving, a longing. The feeling of needing to be close to him overcomes you, and you almost forget you were about to have sex from how deeply you’re enjoying just being intimate with him.

It's when his hands move from your waist to your shoulders that you remember you were trying to take back control. It takes everything in you to grasp his hands and lift them off you. You pin them on either side of his head, leaving him completely exposed. Vulnerable. But you keep kissing him.

You almost squeal when he forcefully shoves his hips up into you, the way his bulge roughly collides with your clit making you lose your composure for a split second, and he takes his chance to once again move his hands to your body while you’re distracted. Neither of you break the kiss, but you can definitely feel his smirk against your lips now. You lightly bite him through the kiss, but it just makes him hum in amusement. You should have known better than to think he would make it that easy for you.

Realizing that you have to resort to your backup plan – and secretly delighted about it – you reach your hand under his pillow, where you had hidden your secret weapon after fetching it from the storage earlier. Your other hand is busy taking one of his arms and placing it above his head again. Finally, having found what you were looking for, you pull out the pair of handcuffs from under the pillow and quickly fasten one of the manacles around his wrist. Law makes a noise of surprise but doesn’t stop you from wrapping the chain behind one of the bars of his headboard and tying his other hand up too.

You both pull away from the kiss now. You, to admire your handiwork, Law, to look between you and his tied hands in utter surprise and shock. Seems he didn’t see through you all the way after all.

It’s your turn to smirk now, straightening up a bit and placing your hands on your hips. You playfully narrow your eyes at him, challenging him to make his next move. Of course, the handcuffs aren’t made from seastone, only normal metal, so Law isn’t actually trapped and could easily get out of them if he wanted to. He quickly regains his unbothered composure, but humours you, it seems, and rests his head down on the pillow again.

“Didn’t see that one coming, did you, captain?” you tease him, and he just scoffs. Law looks mildly annoyed; the type of exasperation that makes you want to agitate him further to see where it leads.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t.” He responds, tone unreadable. But the recklessness in his eyes gives him away.

So, you decide to resume making out with him, glad he didn’t put up more of a fight, and thinking you’ve got him where you want him now. But you’re quickly proven wrong when he roughly pushes his hips into yours a second time and again manages to elicit a moan from you at the intense sensation.

“Speaking of seeing things coming…” he murmurs into the kiss, and you don’t have to open your eyes to know he’s grinning at the state you’re in. “Someone’s sensitive.”

But the fight hasn’t left you yet, lowering your hands to his chest and your mouth to his neck, you start grinding your hips roughly into his while sucking a hickey into the place under his ear. The reaction is immediate, Law letting out a breathy groan before he can stop himself.

“Fuck.” He lets out and you look up just enough to throw him a little smirk back before trailing little kisses all the way from his jaw to his collarbones, nipping at his skin every now and then.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Who’s sensitive?” you ask him in between kisses, and the breath he lets out at that sounds more like a barely contained growl than anything else. However much Law can seem pissed off sometimes, you quickly learned from dating him that he loves it when you talk back. Not that he would ever admit that. Not that he even realizes it himself.

But the pushback excites him. As someone who has learned to expect every good thing in his life to fall apart, being with someone too calm would only stress him out. He would try – and fail – to figure out their sick and twisted mind games, finding the person unpredictable, and therefore dangerous. That’s why he loves when you fight back, allowing him to push further under the guise of standing his ground, loving the challenge. It makes it all the more satisfying when you break apart for him.

And his excitement is clear from the way he’s instinctively pulling at the shackles still tying his hands to the bed and from the hard bulge forming under his pyjamas. You know he’s about to start bucking his hips into yours again, wanting to take back control. Trying to abuse all your weak spots to make you fall apart for him, depend on him. Law desperately needs to reduce you to the mess he is so scared of becoming himself.

But this time, you see it coming and refuse to let him get to you again. You place the top of your feet over his thighs behind you and move your hands to his hips, right where you can feel his pelvis, and hold him down like that. The position makes you unable to reach his neck, so you simply sit as straight as your can with your hands firmly planted on his sides and give him a teasing smile that you hope makes you look confident.

God, he looks utterly wrecked already. The way his eyelids are heavy and his mouth half open, the overall effect greatly enhanced by the way his chest heaves with every deep breath. His head is thrown back on the pillow a bit from how you were attacking his neck, and the look he throws you through half-lidded eyes is one of pure lust and need. The sight makes you want to fuck him right now, but still, you hold back, wondering how much self control he must have to be able to do this to you every single time. But you’re not done messing him up, not yet.

Still sitting over his hard cock, you start grinding your core over it again, this time making sure to give him as little friction as you can. You manage not to roll your eyes but can’t stop yourself from biting your lip at how good it feels. Fuck, you could cum just from this. He’s fully hard beneath his pants now, and you can perfectly feel the outline of his thick cock from how you’re dragging your clit against it.

Law is trembling slightly beneath you, clearly struggling to cope with the fact that you can get him just as needy as he can get you. “Y/n, if you don’t do something soon…” He urges through gritted teeth.

“You know, this is where you would usually make me beg for it.” You answer him, not able to stop yourself. It’s the truth, but you don’t actually plan on it, knowing he wouldn’t let you be on top ever again if you tried. Plus, you’re enjoying it too much to give it up. When he shoots you a menacing glare, however, you stop your teasing and lift off of him. He lets out a low groan at the loss of touch but doesn’t want to stop you now that you’re at least doing something.

You pull at the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, and he lifts his hips to help you pull the fabric down his legs. Much to Law’s displeasure, yours remain on. He usually undresses you fully and toys with you a little before he even thinks of pulling down his own pants, often making you cum a few times first, but sometimes opting to simply edge you until you’re almost sobbing.

Your hands find his cock. It’s hard, twitching, and leaking almost as much as you must be from all the teasing and foreplay you’ve both endured from each other.

Law watches you reposition yourself and bow your head down, your tongue out. He braces himself and manages to only let out a shuddering breath when it makes contact with the sensitive underside of his shaft. You slowly lick a stripe up his length, taking your time to savour it, occasionally applying a little more pressure by sucking the side of it with your lips. You do this a few times, but always make sure to avoid his sensitive tip, where you know he needs you most.

“Y/n, if you don’t do something now, I’m going to make you regret not using seastone cuffs on me.” He growls through his clenched jaw, and you know he means it.

Law likes to be a bit rough with you. Nothing extreme, he doesn’t want to hurt you or anything like that, but he loves to mess you up a little. There’s something so delicious in being able to make you so desperate, to lovingly break you, knowing it’s all because of him. You’re surprised he even let you go as far as you have, since he usually ignores it every time you attempt to take the lead.

“Someone’s getting worked up, huh?” You answer, but you’re quick to take off your remaining clothes and go back to sit in your initial position over his cock. You take it into your hand once again and use your other hand to lift his tank top a little, exposing his stomach up to the bottom of his chest tattoo. The sight almost has you drooling again. Hovering above him, with one hand on his chest to steady yourself, you slowly guide his tip to where you’ve both needed him for hours.

Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you liked it :D (This is my fic, don't repost! Reblogs are always appreciated <3)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ NAGUMO YOICHI ; — 18:04. heartbreaks are best served raw. cold. wet.

࿄ ! warnings - bruh none except juicy angst. exes to ?friends /. note i have been having nagumo brain rot and it’s taking over my life. pls help. pls enjoy. ofc there will be more. no proofreads ok byeee

“you still owe me, by the way.”

sighing, you throw your keys into the straw woven coaster on top of your shoe rack. of course he was strewn all over your couch, bare feet on your cushions, head resting on the arm rest, tv flashing in jest.

you roll your eyes. “sometimes, i have half a mind to tell my elderly neighbour that no, they’re not just seeing things when they keep telling me a big, lanky idiot keeps breaking into my home after i leave.”

nagumo gasps, hand grasping his chest through his loose shirt. “idiot? words hurt, y’know.”

you kick off your shoes, jacket and blazer - in that exact order - before wandering off into the kitchen, ignoring the dramatic cries emanating from your living room.

it’s not uncommon for nagumo to just show up in your house, uninvited, eating all your food and making a mess of all your things. you remember the first time it happened, almost a year ago. he had stumbled into your bedroom window, all bloodied and bruised and your reaction time was terrible to say the least, because while you were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, his figure stepped into your peripheral and you threw the phone square at his already bruised jaw.

in apology, you had tidied him up and made him dinner… though now you wish you hadn’t shown him mercy back then, because he just kept. showing. up. you suppose he’s not just to blame. you’re ignoring the fact that you both hadn’t seen each other in over 7 years (after your messy exit of the JAA and an even more messy breakup) and now that he’s back in your life (back used in negative fashion) you just can’t seem to get rid of the him.

nor do you have the heart to tell him to get lost.

nagumo ceases his whining, yelling after you. “by the way, what’s for dinner? i saw some chicken in your fridge so…”

your eye twitches. “…so what?”

“so…i was thinking you might want to use that… to make dinner.”

you make a loud noise in disbelief, practically throwing the fridge door off of its hinges, “i’m not making you dinner?! gramps next door said he saw you come in 4 hours ago! and you didn’t think to come in and make dinner?!”

it’s quiet for a moment, but you hear the rustling of clothes and the movement of feet, so you turn to lean against the kitchen counter expectantly. the dark haired man peers his head round the corner, sheepish.

“y/n? are you mad at me?”

“no. i just think you’re stupid. oh, and i pretty sure you live to bother me.”

dark puppy eyes bore into yours as he steps into the vicinity. “the first part’s not true in the slightest but the second is pretty much on the nose. though, i’m not bothering you. you like that i’m here.”

“what’s this now?”

nagumo steps closer into your personal space, tattooed arms on either side of you as you look up and away from him.

“47 times. that’s how many times i’ve shown up here. in typical y/n fashion, you’ll complain and act like you’re annoyed, but i don’t think you’ve ever told me to go away.” nagumo ponders for a moment, finger on his chin. “now that i think about it, you haven’t. not once.”

you’re speechless. you’re not sure what to say and when you open your mouth, nothing wants to come out. truthfully, the man has read you like an open book, flicking through the pages languidly, hands bruising the spine. he’s smiling like it’s the truest thing he’s ever said - the only thing he’s been right about when it comes to how you feel.

pride is a very funny thing. if things were different, you’d grab his face and kiss him till he would shut up - well, that’s what you used to do… before, you know… you know. but this is humiliating, at least to you. even after all this time… you’ve let it get too far.

you huff, pushing his arm from beside you and you stand by a miscellaneous cupboard, turned away from nagumo, arms wrapped around yourself. “well, for starters, you’re wrong. forgive me for trying to be a good friend and helping someone out.”

“someone? that’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” the playful lilt stays lingering in his tone and it makes your heart simmer.

“… i think you should go, nagumo.”

silence sits between the two of you. nagumo looks at the back of your head. he sighs.

“if that’s what you want. see you around, y/n.”

he exits, quiet as never. he’s never quiet or silent when he lumbers around your home, sweeping and lingering. he’s probably already left your home in similar fashion. the fact makes you grab your own face and groan.

you don’t think you can be normal about him. maybe it’s for the best.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © MOOMINSUKI 2024. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

[platinumink]

Headcanon Vol.2: Odysseus had unruly hair in his youth but grew out of it but Telemachus now has to deal with it and Ody helps his son and it all ends in a beautiful hurt/comfort moment

Not as good as my other headcanons for this fandom but I really do think about situations where Telemachus is just struggling to tidy his hair which is just going crazy all of the time and is about to give up when Odysseus strolls into the bathing area and notices his sons struggles.

Not wanting to embarrass him any further after the whole clothes stealing shenanigans, he simply nods in hello and does his thing with cleaning himself. When he's done, he notices that Telemachus is still not any closer to figuring out his hair so he comes over and mentions how he also had impossible-to-deal-with hair and age and growing it out (the added weight) helped with it's upkeep but he did have some tricks he learned to aid the issue.

So he tells his son about it who becomes completely enraptured in the story, not wanting to miss a single word his dad tells him. Telemachus asks for tips and Ody asks if it would be okay to show him and his son agrees.

Ody spends the next hour ir so explaining hair care for curly hair to his son, going over herb tinctures and oils he can use to make his hair submit to his will without damaging it as well as special brushes and movements that help with detangling and finally braids that help with the right curl forming overnight. It becomes a whole thing with them and even though Telemachus gets the hang of it very quickly, he keeps on asking his dad to do it for him and Ody is bever going to decline because quality time with his dearly missed son is everything to him.

So during their hair care moments, they talk about each others days, what they were going to do the day after and eventually, Ody feels confortable enough to confide in his son as well about his Odyssey (hehe) and they things he went through and had to do and Telemachus is then there for him, reassuring him and comforting him as well.

Eventually Telemachus does his dads hair as well so they can spend even more time together.

Penelope does know about this because of course Ody had to tell her all about how much he loves his son and how much he enjoys their new father son bonding moments, but one day, when she enters the bathing area earlier than usual, she sees the two of them and observes their little time together. She does not intervene because while she also loves her son deeply, she will allow her husband to have this time for himself to catch up on all of the lost time.

I also imagine their time together always ends with them touching foreheads (because I am a sucker for those between parents and their kids), hugging and Ody kissing his sons hair. They then always leave the baths together before Telemachus artives at his room first where they hug again and wish each other a restful night and then Ody leaves fir his own room and lies down beside his wife, talks with her just as long about their days and then they fall asleep in each others arms thoigh Odys head is 100% on Penelopes chest to hear her heartbeat because he has still trauma from Calypsos bullshit and needs it to convince himself that he is home.

He then sleeps, thinking about his family.

And now i've brough myself to tears yet again. 😭🩵

Also if anyone wants to write or draw something with this, you of course have my full permission. Just tag me please, I want to say thank you and admire your work 😭🙏🏻🩵