#My Real Squeeze Mask

[shotmrmiller]

When Johnny takes Simon to his home, and you open the door, Simon's heart stops beating. You direct that lovely smile he's fallen in love with at Johnny as you hug him and usher him inside. Simon's frozen in place, his body refusing to move, because gods, you're a fucking dream.

And then you turn your attention towards him, with ruddy cheeks and pink lips and a delicate neck he could easily wrap his hand around—

"You must be Simon!" and his cock starts to stir. All you said was his name, in that angelic voice of yours, and his blood started to rush to his groin.

When you move to wrap your arms around him in an embrace, he finally breaks from his trance and returns it. Barely. It's awkward— one arm coming up to inelegantly pat your upper back a little too hard, and the other stiff at his side. But you seem completely unbothered, just giving him one last squeeze and step back, holding both of his arms in your dainty hands, and you say, "It's great to meet the one that keeps my Johnny safe. Now, come on in, make yourself at home!"

Simon timidly walks inside, and closes the door behind him, and utters, "Thank you for lettin' me stay here."

The joyful laughter you let out sends exquisite prickles up his spine. "He actually speaks! I'm surprised, Johnny said it took a bit for you to warm up to others," and you give another stomach-fluttering giggle. "You're welcome here any time, Simon. Now let me take you to the room you'll be staying in."

Simon has to carry his duffle bag in front of him as you lead him to the guest room to cover the throbbing erection he's got. When you leave him to freshen up, he wastes no time in pulling his jeans down and taking himself in his hand, stroking firmly. When his imagination paints a picture of you wearing an apron while cooking a meal for him, his vision blurs as he climaxes.

--

Simon knows he's atypical. He has no real decorum. He tells piss-poor dark jokes, inadvertently stares at people when he's lost in thought— and since he's been here, Simon likes to shadow you.

But you don't seem to mind any of it. You laugh at his jokes, the ones Johnny never fails to scoff in disgust at, you tilt your head innocently towards him, silently questioning his intense gaze — and it's so fucking adorable that he's come to that look 8 times in the last 3 days— and you always ask him to reach for things that are out of your reach because you know he's around. (Johnny made a joke once, said that you're being haunted by a ghost, and the quip you replied with as you came to his defense had him dizzy.)

His favorite thing about you though, is how unafraid you are of him. You had rounded a corner and saw his skull mask for the first time, and had you been like any other woman, you would've been startled. But you hadn't been— If anything, you asked him if he wanted it fixed.

"I can see a couple of tears here, Simon. I can patch it up if you like."

It was so deliciously domiciliary that he counted each stitch of his mended mask with his thumb as he touched himself that night.

And then, through the thin walls of the home, he suddenly heard your dulcet moans. He quickly got up and put his skills to use— silently crossing the living room and leaning against the wall closest to your bedroom door.

The bed repeatedly creaked and every choked moan that left you, Simon heard clearly. He hastily took out his achingly hard cock, spit on his palm, and stroked himself to the rhythm of the slapping of skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fucked himself to the thought of him being the one in there with you.

He has no doubt that you'd feel heavenly. Your slick cunt swallowing his turgid length, walls almost painfully tight around him. You'd beg for him to hammer into you, relentlessly, mercilessly. You'd tell him to bite the crook of your shoulder once you were about to come around his cock, and when he actually hears you reach your peak, he rhythmically tightens and loosens his grip, imitating your fluttering walls. His toes are curling inside his socks, he's so bloody close—

And then Simon hears your lascivious voice murmur, "Come in me."

He bites his lip so hard it splits under the pressure as he comes. Tiny, hushed whimpers seeped from behind his mouth, as hot cum spilled onto his fingers, and trickled onto the floor.

The only noise Simon can hear now is his own shaky breath— the fun's over on both sides, it seems. He looks down, gives his softening cock one more stroke, wringing out the last of his seed, before tucking himself away, and sluggishly wiping his mess off the floor with his foot.

He quietly moves, heading back to his room, when he spots your laundry basket in the utility room.

Simon has never believed in luck until now when he's sniffing your knickers in the privacy of the guest room, and he realizes they've been worn. And by how strong the smell of you is, they've been used very recently. He felt like he won the goddamn lottery.

Wrapping it around his cock, he touches himself. Again. And when he comes, he makes sure to spurt his cum directly onto the gusset of the undergarment.

Come morning, when they're all stiff and crusted, he laments that he didn't lick them first, in a pitiful bid to experience a taste of you, before stowing them into a secret compartment in his bag. He makes a mental note to remember to do just that when he takes another pair.

Simon wordlessly makes a cup of tea later, hissing as the hot liquid comes in contact with the small wound on his lip, when Johnny approaches him.

"Mornin' LT."

A grunt is his only reply.

Johnny then shoots him a sly grin.

"Last night, ye weren't as wheesht, as quiet, as ye thought. But dinnae worry, Bonnie doesn't ken a thing."

He claps a hand on Simon's petrified shoulders. "If ye wanted a slice of the cake, ye could've just asked. I dinnae mind sharin'."

Simon gives him a borderline-demented look, puts his tea down on the counter, and clears his throat.

"When?"

[venusbyline]

tvdu men + their favorite kinks

⚠️: Smut headcanons, female reader, BDSM themes, CNC mentioned, blood and bites mentioned, slight dark content. Damon, Elijah, Jeremy, Kai, Klaus, Kol, Silas and Sfefan headcanons included.

Damon Salvatore

• Blood kink. Damon loves blood. He likes hurting you during sex as many ways as possible, hitting you until blood comes out, marking you, biting you... Every way he can see you writhing and asking for more, or crying in pain/pleasure and begging him to stop (but without saying your safe word, because you actually DON'T WANT him to).

• Primal kink. If you're human, Damon likes acting as you're his prey. He hunts you on a deserted road, especially giving you a little time before he starts really hunting you, like hide and seek.

Elijah Mikaelson

• Master/slave. In my opinion, Elijah's one of the most canonically sadistic characters of the show, all of it just hidden in his fake perfection's mask . The master and slave dynamic it's perfect for him. You worship him, even when he tells you to rub your slutty pussy on his social shoes while you give him a head, making you cum just like that and then demanding you bend over and lick your own juices on his shoes. You also wear white lingerie and stay with your handcuffed hands behind your back for hours, willing to do whatever he tells you to do, thanks to your limits already pre-established well in advance.

Jeremy Gilbert

• Choking (before his Hunter's Mark). Jeremy was a real soft boyfriend, so switch but more on the sub side. He loved being choked, feeling your fingers squeezing his throat as you rode him fast, his hands holding your hips but without controlling your moves, just feeling the heat of your skin.

• Spanking (after his Hunter's Mark). This Jeremy's version it's much more dominant. He's so strong and hot... He loves to lay you down on his knee and spank your ass until it's burning red. Just like he also loves hiting you with his belt if you were being too bratty before.

Kai Parker

• CNC. Wow, Kai's a "human" red flag and that's why I love him. He has such dark desires, you couldn't help but be scared the first time he told you about his CNC/rapeplay kink. It took a while for you to convince yourself, but after you exposed your limits, you knew that it could happen at any moment and you always get excited waiting for it. Your whining while he hurts you and "forces" you to do these things it's a spur to both of you. The chase, the begging, the crying, the blood...

Klaus Mikaelson

• Choking. When he's fucking you, he doesn't miss the opportunity to grab your neck tightly, watching you gasp for air as his hand cuts off your breath, fucking you harder and hearing your strangled moans.

• Degradation. He loves to humiliate you (but only during sex). Calling you degrading pet names and making you feel worthless and pathetic. When it's the aftercare time, the first things he does it's lie down next to you, hugging you and fill you with so much soft words, proving tthat everything he said before wasn't true.

Kol Mikaelson

• Daddy kink. He's not that rough on relationships, we know that (isn't that right, Davina?). But he still likes being dominating you during sex, even if in a soft way. He likes you calling him daddy and acting like his submissive little girl. He punishes you as many times as you need but always spoils you if you're a good girl to him.

Silas

• Degradation & Edging. Silas's so... Silas. So hot and sarcastic. He loves degrading you sometimes, but he's more mocking than Klaus. I guess that's why I also picture him as someone with an Edging kink. He doesn't just degrades you and treats you as someone less than him, but he also shows that by denying your orgasms for HOURS, and after he's satisfied seeing your crying and pleading, he makes you cum until you squirt and say your safe word. Just like Klaus, the moment sex it's over he treats you like his goddess.

Stefan Salvatore

• Primal kink (as Ripper). Ripper Stefan's so cruel and dark... He loves Primal Roleplay. He's addicted to chasing you as if you were his prey, as if you were just one of the stupid humans he feeds on. You play this prey role very well, even allowing him to feed on you at these times.

• Pet play. Stefan in his (considerably) normal sane state isn't as so dominant and rough, but he's yet a little kinky. You're his bunny, he wants you to play this role very well during this roleplay tok. Wearing lingerie, plugs with tails, acting slightly like a bunny...

[gothcsz]

Obvious | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 4 of Unscripted Desire | ~12k wc | Series Masterlist | gif cred | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Life after quitting the porn industry.

Tags: halloween vibes, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex (protected), getting bent over in a parking garage, frankie heavy beginning (they had us in the first half not gonna lie), speaking of frankie he wears the ghostface mask while hitting it, connie has entered this little universe, masturbation with vibrator (f), clit stimulation, dirty talk, pussy slapping, JUST THE TIP!!!!, no use of y/n, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: surpriseeeee, i woke up a little too inspired to write and voila, out came this beautiful chapter that i was not expecting to get out so soon. again, this fic has def taken off in ways i never imagined but uhhh, we out here 🖤 thanks to everyone for the support, frankie girlies (gn) i hope i did your man justice 'cause i was feeling a little too feral for him. as for my just the tip stans... we did it joe 🤠 i hope you guys fucking love this the way i do and that you ruined your underwear... just as i did 🖤

The cool autumn breeze sweeps over you as you walk out of the movie theater with Frankie, the Halloween spirit in full swing. Scream 2 was as thrilling as ever, and your favorite of the trilogy.

The fall season always makes you feel nostalgic, and tonight has been no exception—dinner, a movie, and Frankie by your side for the past month has made things feel better than they have been for quite some time now.

“It’s not that hard to escape the bastard,” Frankie says confidently, as if he’d be the first to survive the whole ordeal. “He’s just some guy—or girl—wearing a mask with a knife. I’d have them handled in five minutes. Tops.”

You laugh, humoring him. “Oh, I’m sure you would.”

The parking garage is mostly empty, dimly lit as you make your way to his truck, parked at the top level. You’re talking casually about the film when he suddenly slows down, a mischievous smirk creeping across his face. He corners you slowly, backing you against the cool metal of the truck, his presence looming as you feel the tension rise. 

“Or,” he says, voice dropping lower, “I could be a real kickass Ghostface.”

Your eyes flick to the mask in his hand, the complimentary one that came with the tickets, and then back to him. His dark brown eyes gleam with playful intent, and a thrill shoots through you. “Oh yeah?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow.

He grins, slipping his cap off and pulling the mask over his face. Oh, shit. You’ve never had a mask kink before, but something about Frankie wearing it like this, his body pressing closer, has your pulse racing. 

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” He asks, his voice lowering to mimic what’d you just seen, a smooth yet eerie tone. It’s almost too good, too convincing, and you suddenly understand why people fantasize about this kind of thing.

You bite your lip, your mind swirling with desire as his hand slides down to your hip, squeezing gently. “I don’t have one,” you say, teasing him. You can barely see his eyes through the mask’s slits, but the way his head tilts makes your stomach flip.

“Oh, c’mon, hermosa,” he purrs, “don’t lie to me.”

You giggle nervously, feeling the heat between you both intensify. Glancing around to make sure you’re still alone, you place a hand on his chest, letting it slide down slowly until it reaches his belt. He grunts in response, his free hand gripping the back of your head tightly. The pressure sends a shiver down your spine, and you whimper softly.

“You’re liking this, aren’t you?” He asks, voice muffled slightly by the mask but dripping with lust.

“More than I’d like to admit,” you breathe out, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. And before you can process it, your jeans and underwear are being pulled down to your mid-thigh. Frankie wastes no time, maneuvering you into the backseat of the truck. You’re bent over, ass out, hands pressed against the cool leather as you hear him undo his belt, the sound of his zipper punctuating the quiet.

He’s quick, efficient, rolling a condom over his thick cock before positioning himself behind you. His hand grips your hip as he thrusts into you, and you gasp as he fills you, the mask still firmly on his face. 

It’s fucking amazing. Frankie fucks you like no one ever has—not like it’s for show or performance, but feverent and real. Each thrust hits the perfect spot inside you, sending your vision into a haze of stars. You’re more vocal than you’ve ever been, moaning his name, asking for more.

“Harder,” you whine, and he obliges, his nails digging into your hips as he pounds into you relentlessly. His grunts mix with your moans, the sound echoing in the empty parking garage. 

When he’s close, he finally pulls the mask off, tossing it aside before leaning down, kissing and nipping at your neck. His fingers move below you, rubbing at your sensitive clit as you clench around him, your orgasm rushing through you.

His teeth graze your skin as you both reach your peak, your body trembling as he groans, his release following yours.

He stills inside you, breathing heavily against your neck, and for a moment, everything is still—just you, him, and the night. You smile, feeling content, and he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before slowly pulling out, leaving you both breathless in the backseat of his truck.

“Well, fuck.” Frankie curses under his breath, tying the condom off with a quick motion. His hands, now gentler, reach for yours as he helps you up, both of you quickly fixing your clothes and appearances.

Once you’re situated, you spin around to face him, your fingers lightly brushing his jaw as you lean in to kiss him. It’s sweet, and the soft smack of your lips echoes through the empty parking garage.

“That was amazing,” you say, still a little breathless, your heart still racing in your chest.

A smirk plays on his lips as he puts his cap back on and tosses the used condom in a nearby trash bin. “Gonna have to hold onto this,” he says, nodding toward the Ghostface mask, now thrown carelessly into the backseat. There’s a playful gleam in his eyes, that flirty, teasing edge you’ve come to expect from him.

“It was definitely a heat-of-the-moment thing,” you say, trying to play it cool, though you can’t help the little grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Mhm, sure it was.” He winks, sliding into the driver’s seat beside you as he starts the engine, the rumble of his truck echoing as he pulls out of the garage.

The streets are alive with the Halloweekend night crowd. People spill out of bars, laughter and chatter drifting through the air as Frankie navigates through the bustling costumed scene. You catch sight of a group of friends stumbling onto the sidewalk, and you’re grateful that your apartment’s entrance is around the back, away from all the noise and chaos.

Frankie pulls up across the street from your place, parking the truck and turning to you with a slightly furrowed brow. “Not really a fan of your current living arrangement,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes serious.

You shrug, reaching for your purse. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” though you can’t deny you’ve felt the same way. The cramped apartment above a rowdy bar wasn’t your dream setup, but it’s what you’ve got for now.

Leaning over the console, you peck his lips once, twice, then again. What starts as a series of playful kisses quickly turns into something more, your hands finding his stubbled jaw as his fingers graze your thigh. Before long, you’re fully making out again.

When you finally pull away, your lips tingling, you ask softly, “Wanna come up?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes search yours for a moment, considering something. But then, with a slow nod, he says, “Yeah, okay.” His voice is steady, but there’s that familiar heat beneath it, the same one that had you wrapped up in the backseat earlier.

The following morning is spent with the both of you lazily lounging around your apartment, only leaving to pick up  a late breakfast from your favorite spot around the corner before you’re back in bed, sleeping the day away.

You’re barely aware of the warm breath ghosting over your inner thighs as you shift in your sleep, legs lazily spread across the bed. A sleepy moan slips out when you feel soft lips pressing against your pussy, then a firmer kiss followed by a slow drag of a tongue. 

You stir, half-dazed, your fingers instinctively moving to the unruly curls of hair between your legs as the sensation intensifies. Frankie’s lips latch onto your clit, sucking gently, and it sends a shock of pleasure through your body, waking you up fully.

“Oh,” his name slips from your lips like a breathless confession. 

You can feel his grin against you, hear the low groan vibrating through your sensitive flesh as he takes his time, his tongue swirling around you in lazy circles, savoring your taste.

Just for a second, a flash of something—or someone—else crosses your mind. Javier. The thought of him, of the way he’d made you fall apart that day in the elevator, flickers in your mind like a flame.

Your eyes fly open in shock, and you gasp, but Frankie is none the wiser. He assumes your reaction is all because of him, and that only spurs him on. His lips press harder against you as he brings two fingers up, spreading you open gently before sinking them inside. 

You shake your head, mentally shoving him back into the recesses where he belongs.

With a determined focus, you let yourself melt back into the pleasure, letting go of everything else. “Pussy tastes so good, hermosa,” he mumbles, as he works his mouth and fingers together, creating a messy, perfect rhythm that has your thighs clenching around his head.

It’s all too much, too good, and you can’t help the way your body writhes beneath him.

Your moans fill the room, louder and more desperate, hips lifting and chasing the pleasure as the tension in your spine coils tighter and tighter until it finally snaps, and you come undone all over his lips and fingers.

Frankie doesn’t stop right away—his lips stay on you, moving with less intensity now, just soft kisses as you come down from your high. He places a final, lingering kiss to your clit before he crawls up your body, kissing a path along your skin. You’re still wearing his t-shirt, your body half exposed, and he grins down at you, his dark eyes sparkling with satisfaction. 

“Figured you needed something to help get you through your shift,” he says, his voice teasing yet full of affection.

You give him a lazy, fucked-out smile, still catching your breath. “It’s gonna help me with more than just my shift, mister. You just gave me something new to add to my spank bank.”

He shakes his head playfully. “Spank bank, huh? Glad to be of service,” he adds with a wink, leaning in for another kiss, slower this time. You can’t help but run your hands over his arms, admiring the small scars, the beauty marks that dot his tan skin.

“Are you coming back tonight?” You ask softly, your fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him down for a peck.

He sighs against your lips before shaking his head. “Can’t. I’ve got Elliana this weekend,” he says, his tone softening as he mentions his four-year-old daughter. You haven’t met her yet, the two of you keeping things casual and slow.

Neither of you wants anything serious, but hearing him mention his daughter always adds a layer of sweetness to him that makes you feel warm.

You nod in understanding, pulling him down for one final kiss before you force yourself to get up and start getting ready for work. He watches you, that same teasing, affectionate glint in his eyes, and you can’t help but smile back at him, grateful for whatever this is between you two.

“You just got fucked, didn’t you?” Connie’s voice hits you the second you step behind the bar, her eyebrows wiggling with mischief as she leans against the counter, arms crossed over her Princess Peach costume that’s not really a costume—just a pink tennis dress with the signature crown atop of her head. 

“Hello to you too, Connie.” You give her a sarcastic smile, securing the half apron around your waist. It’s a routine now—her prying into your business like an investigative reporter for the gossip section.

Reminds you of another blond, and now you wonder if they’re all just like this.

Your firecracker of a coworker is an E.R. nurse who took on this bartending gig a few months after you did. The fact that she has to hustle for tips despite being in healthcare is one of those cruel ironies you both bitch about during slow shifts. You’d think a nurse would be raking in cash, but there are nights here at Lucky’s where she pulls more than at the hospital.

“I’m just saying,” Connie continues, mid-lemon slice, her eyes narrowing in exaggerated suspicion. “You’re wearing your cute jeans, your shirt’s actually clean, and—wait, is that makeup on your face? Please don’t tell me you’re in cat ears!” She pauses, blade in hand, smirking at you like she’s cracked some secret code.

Your face warms up as you adjust the stupid cat ears on your head. Yeah, she’s nailed it—hooking up with Frankie before your shift definitely put some extra pep in your step tonight. A little effort never hurt, especially when looking put-together meant better tips.

It’s Halloween, and people tend to tip better when you’re festive. So, why not milk it for all it’s worth?

“Just capitalizing off the holiday, Con. Is that a crime?” You say, bending down to grab the ice buckets for a quick refill before the evening rush hits.

“No, what is a crime,” she says, not missing a beat as she narrows her eyes at you, tossing the lemons aside, “is you skimping out on the juicy details of your love life.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that slips out as you hip-check her on your way to the ice machine. “I’m not skimping. It’s not like I’ve been hiding some wild love affair. We only started fucking, what, like two weeks ago?”

“And?” She leans forward, hands on her hips, waiting like she’s tuning in for the next episode of her favorite drama.

You bite your lip, lowering your voice conspiratorially, “It’s… fucking amazing.”

She whistles, then throws her hands up in celebration. You can’t help but laugh—loudly—your mood is too good to even pretend to be embarrassed.

Grabbing the freshly filled ice buckets, you lug them back behind the bar, your arms burning slightly from the weight, but you’re not complaining. Between lugging buckets and keeping the bar stocked, who needs a gym membership?

“I’m so jealous. I can’t even remember the last time I slept with a guy and actually enjoyed it,” She says with a dramatic sigh, leaning her elbows on the bar.

“Trust me, I was in the same boat for the longest time. Then Frankie just… showed up,” you say with a small, satisfied smile. It’s true, he kind of did swoop in out of nowhere, and it’s been surprisingly easy with him since.

But, of course, there’s that brief hiccup in your mind that involves Javier. 

You push the thought of him away, like you’ve been doing for weeks. What happened earlier in bed with Frankie was just a slip-up, your subconscious messing with you.

“Well, I need a guy to just show up and fuck me so I can think straight again,” she half-jokes, and the two of you burst into laughter, the kind that shakes your shoulders and draws a few curious glances from nearby patrons.

As the night picks up, the bar gets busier, and the usual rhythm settles in. You and Connie move in sync, the crowd buzzing with energy.

Costumes, chatter, and the clinking of glasses surround you, but you’re in your zone. It’s not until about two hours later, as you’re pouring someone’s vodka soda, that you catch sight of a familiar face sliding into a barstool in front of you.

“Long time no see, stranger,” you greet Steve over the music, already reaching for his usual piss beer and uncapping it before sliding it across the counter.

“Work’s been fucking ass,” he replies, taking a long, much-needed gulp from the bottle. You can see the exhaustion in his eyes. 

“Robbie still being an asshole, I presume?” You ask, shifting away to take another patron’s order while keeping half an ear out for whatever fresh hell your ex-boss has put Steve through now.

Steve’s attention, though, is fixed on something—or rather, someone—else. His gaze locks on Connie, who’s busy putting on a little show for a group of birthday girls. She’s expertly pouring a line of shots, lighting them on fire, and sliding them toward the group, who erupt into cheers.

“She seein’ anyone?” He asks, leaning in closer, like he’s trying to keep the question discreet. Between the thumping music and the lively chatter, Connie wouldn’t hear him even if he shouted.

You raise a brow. “Like I told you last time—and like she told you the time before—no.”

“Then why’s she always shuttin’ me down?” He frowns, frustration creasing his face.

You shrug, wiping down the perpetually sticky counter. “Probably because you only approach her here, when you’re halfway through a six-pack. Connie’s not looking for bullshit—she deals with enough of that here and at the hospital.”

Steve scoffs, taking another hefty swig of his beer. “Right. You bartenders are tough to crack.”

You smirk, knocking your knuckles on the wooden bar top. “Maybe, but we’re worth the effort.”

Steve chuckles at that. “Now, spill. I’ve barely seen you since I quit.” You’re curious, and maybe just a little petty.

He groans, tipping his head back as if the memory of work physically pains him. And a part of you—maybe the slightly vindictive part—waits eagerly to hear about how Robbie’s screwing up, still secretly wishing for your old boss’s downfall.

“Longer shoots for lesser pay. And the fucking guys he’s been hiring— Christ Almighty. S’been a fuckin’ shitshow since you walked out,” You feel pride swell up in your chest at the remembrance, how good it felt to stick up for yourself. “But especially since Javier kicked his ass to the curb. I’m the last one standing.”

You barely have time to absorb this before a rowdy group of frat boys descends on the bar, demanding drinks with the enthusiasm of toddlers in a candy store.

You want to wring their necks for interrupting your train of thought, especially since curiosity about what happened with Javier is gnawing at you.

Why do you care? That small voice in your head questions, but you put her on mute and focus on fulfilling the orders of these insufferable college students.

Noticing you’re tied up, Steve hops down a few barstools, positioning himself in front of Connie, trying to charm her again. You can’t help but catch snippets of his pickup lines as you whirl about behind the bar. To your surprise, Connie seems receptive this time, laughing and engaging with him instead of brushing him off like before.

Good for her—she deserves a bit of fun, especially after just saying she needed to get laid. You hope Steve has learned a thing or two from all those shoots.

Amid the chaos, you break through their flirting when Connie has to prepare another round of shots. “So, Javier quit?” you ask, the words spilling out before you can hold them back.

Steve, clearly happy as hell that his advances have finally worked, shoots you a smug grin. “Yup. Him and Robbie were arguing more and more then he pulled a you and stormed off set. It’s just him and his agent now. He isn’t signing on to just one production company anymore. Don’t be surprised if you see him sellin’ tricks on Figueroa.”

A frown tugs at your lips, the bittersweet news settling in your chest. You can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Javier.

“Why are you askin’? You miss him or somethin’? Thought you were still bangin’ it out with that camera guy from Malibu.” His tone is teasing, reminiscent of a little brother trying to get under your skin.

You snort, rolling your eyes and collecting the empty glasses into a plastic bin. “ I’m just surprised. This is like, his whole thing.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, he hasn’t been working as much. I’ve never seen the guy be this… still. Told him maybe it’s a good thing—he can finally chill the fuck out and give his dick a break.”

You can’t help but laugh, handing him another beer. “I can’t even imagine what else he’d do. Can you seriously picture Javier Peña working a 9 to 5?”

Steve grins, scratching his chin as if pondering the idea. “I dunno, he could be a good car salesman. Maybe even insurance?”

You both chuckle, but as you excuse yourself to put away the dirty dishes, your mind lingers on Javier. It’s like a weird domino effect: your departure had shaken things up, and now a small part of you feels somewhat responsible for this mess.

No, you shouldn’t feel this way. He’ll figure it out. You really shouldn’t waste this much time ‘worrying’ about him. He means nothing to you. End of story.

The rest of your shift flows smoothly, and you end up pocketing more tips than you anticipated. Even the late hour—almost four in the morning—doesn’t faze you as you and Connie finish cleaning up and closing.

“You can stay the night if you want. I’m sure you don’t want to wait for the bus this late,” you suggest, watching her mop with a satisfied smile.

“Actually…” She pauses, wringing out the mop head. Your brows raise at her tone, and she bites her lip. “My ride is waiting for me out front.”

You piece it together in an instant, halting mid-count of the twenty-dollar bills. “No way, you finally gave in to Steve!”

Connie’s face lights up with a sheepish smile. “I thought he was cute since day one. I just couldn’t let him get to me so easily. Play hard to get, you know? See if he really wanted me as badly as he said he did.”

You hum, shaking your head with a grin as you resume counting. “Atta girl. Enjoy yourself, you deserve it.”

As you finish up, you hug Connie goodbye, watching as she excitedly jumps into Steve’s Jeep. You trudge up the creaky stairs to your place, feeling a bit lonely now.

The remnants of Frankie’s presence linger in your cramped apartment: his side of the bed still mussed, a crumpled T-shirt on the floor, and takeaway containers from earlier scattered on your small kitchen table.

With a sigh, you take off your cat ears and head straight for the shower, hoping to wash away the lingering thoughts of both Javier and Frankie before slipping into the quiet of your own bed.

Frankie stands in your living room, his expression serious but soft, while you sit on the couch, staring up at him.

You foolishly didn’t think this would happen—at least not this soon, only two months in. His words are steady, measured, like he’s practiced this. “Elliana’s mom and I… we’re trying to work things out.”

The lump in your throat rises, but you refuse to let it crack your voice. You won’t give in to the urge to cry. It’s not like you didn’t expect this on some level—dating a man with a child meant his ex would always be in the picture. And now, she’s front and center. 

“I understand…”

He exhales deeply at seeing you like this. He sits next to you, close but not invasive, and his presence—still so familiar—only sharpens the ache. You don’t pull away, though everything inside you screams to. Even if this is the right way to end things, you have every right to feel a sting. 

You weren’t serious-serious, but you’d gotten used to him. His easy warmth, the random dates that brightened your week, the small slice of domesticity you didn’t realize you’d grown to like. And the sex… God, you’re not ready to give that up, either. 

“I didn’t mess around with her while we were together. You have to know that,” he adds, his voice low, calm, as if trying to make sure you’re not left with any doubts. He rests his hand on your knee, grounding you in the moment, though you wish he wouldn’t. 

“I know you’re not that guy, Frankie. It just sucks being broken up with,” you say, forcing a smile, lightening your tone as if to keep the tears at bay.

He sighs again, his big brown eyes—those damn puppy eyes—locking onto yours. “I really enjoyed my time with you,” he says, sounding sincere. “It was great. You’re great.”

You nod, just wanting this to be over so you can sink yourself into your sheets and rot for the rest of the day. 

“Likewise, Frankie. Now go make sure your daughter’s got a stable home to grow up in.” You try to smile again, but it’s weaker this time. He can see through it, you know, but he nods anyway.

You walk him to the door, making a quick detour to your bedroom to gather the few t-shirts he’s left behind. When you hand them to him, he grins, trying to lift the mood. “So that’s where these went.”

“Yeah, I’m a bit of a t-shirt hoarder,” you joke back, your voice hollow.

He pauses at the door, his eyes lingering on you longer than you’d like.

“Take care of yourself.”

“You too, hermosa,” he replies, the affection in the word making your heart squeeze.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, you let yourself collapse against it, sliding down until you’re sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to your chest. The tears come silently at first, just a slow trickle, but soon they’re streaking down your cheeks as you curl into yourself.

You hate dating. You’ve always hated it. It feels like a cycle of disappointments: either you’re stuck with some dud or, worse, you find someone worth a damn, and they leave anyway. 

After crying it out for a few minutes, you force yourself to wipe away the tears. The ache in your chest lingers, but you’re determined to distract yourself, dragging your feet over to the entertainment center. Your hand glides over the familiar spines of DVDs and VHS tapes, searching for the right kind of escape, something to pair with the bottle of wine you’ll snag from downstairs.

You reach the end of the row and stop on Pretty Woman, about to pull it out, when your fingers brush against a few unmarked DVDs shoved haphazardly in the back. Curious, you pull them out, and your breath hitches.

They’re your old shoots—the first ones you ever did with Javier. The raunchy titles leap out at you, and suddenly, memories of being on set with him flood back. The chemistry, the heat, the way he looked at you when the cameras weren’t rolling.

Your pulse quickens. You should put them back. But you don’t. You weren’t prepared for this— especially not today, freshly dumped, on the verge of a sexual drought, and with your head all messed up.

Fuck it, you have nothing to lose, so you randomly pick one. Pretty Woman gets shoved aside as you clutch the DVD case, a weird thrill running through you.

As if possessed, you march to your bedside table in your bedroom, frantically rummaging for your long-neglected vibrator. It’s been gathering dust since Frankie showed up, but now… now you’re hoping, praying it still works. When you finally find it, you flip it on, and the gentle hum tells you it’s fully charged.

Thank you, past me. You have no idea how much present me needs this.

With a deep breath, you return to the living room and pop the DVD into the player. The screen flickers to life, and you settle onto the couch, heart pounding in your chest as the film begins. 

The anticipation builds as the usual no-piracy warning flashes on the screen, followed by the production company’s intro. Finally, the familiar jazzy porn music kicks in, setting the mood for what’s to come.

You can already feel your pulse racing, knowing what’s next. This one, you remember—it was one of the first outdoor scenes you shot.

The setup was simple, classic: a woman stranded on the side of the road due to car trouble, waiting for a tow truck to save her. The main star, gorgeous as ever, is dressed provocatively in a tiny miniskirt, platform flip-flops, and a tube top that screams easy access. The camera lingers over her, capturing every curve of her body as she fakes helplessness, playing her role perfectly.

Then comes the rumble of the tow truck, and Javier steps out, looking rugged and sexy in dirty jeans and a rumpled denim shirt with a generic towing company patch stitched onto it. His presence alone is enough to make your skin prickle with heat.

“Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be stuck out here like this,” his voice fills the room. God, you hate to admit it, but you’ve missed hearing him—his smooth tone, the way he used to make every line sound like a promise.

Maybe it’s the leftover emotion from Frankie’s breakup that’s doing this to you, making you feel too much.

“Thank goodness you’re here to help me out. I just... I don’t have any money on me right now to pay for it,” the woman pouts, lips glossy, eyes fluttering up at him like she’s the most innocent thing alive.

Javier cocks his head, eyes traveling over her like she’s a piece of candy. “Don’t worry,” he says, that signature smirk appearing on his face. “I think we can figure something out.”

And just like that, they’re fucking. Raw, desperate sex. He has her spread out on the hood of the car, and her tits bounce with every hard thrust. Javier holds her legs wide open, his rough hands gripping her thighs as he slams into her.

The scene is pure, animalistic lust, and it has your head spinning.

A whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your moans mix with theirs from the TV, and the steady buzz of your vibrator pulses deep inside you. You match the rhythm of Javier’s thrusts, watching as he pistons his cock in and out of her, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling your living room.

You remember that day on set vividly. You’d been sick, your body still sore from the remnants of a cold, and you’d been eager to get it over with so you could go home and collapse into a warm bowl of pho.

But now, watching the scene play out in front of you, it’s like you’re seeing it for the first time—every detail heightened, every movement burned into your mind.

Javier’s fingers dig into her skin as he holds her in place, his hips grinding into her with force. Her face twists in bliss, and you can’t help but imagine what that must feel like, that deep, toe-curling sensation as he hits just the right spot. You let out another moan, the vibrator buzzing relentlessly as you try to keep up with the scene, your hips rocking in time with theirs.

When he leans down, wrapping his lips around her nipple, it’s like you can feel the phantom of his mouth on your own skin. You bring a hand up to your chest, pinching and twisting your nipple, slicking your fingers with spit to heighten the sensation. It’s almost too much, but you can’t stop yourself.

Your breathing quickens as you turn up the setting on the vibrator, the pleasure building, your back bending off the couch. You close your eyes and let your imagination take over, the image of Javier on top of you searing into your mind—his body, hot and heavy, pressing against yours, his teeth grazing your neck, his hands everywhere at once. You can feel him, hear the grunts and groans from the screen, but in your mind, it’s all for you.

“Nena, look at you,” Javier’s voice murmurs, low and rough in your mind, as he hitches your leg higher around his waist, his words melting into your skin like liquid heat. “Told you you’d look so beautiful spread out like this, taking my cock so well.”

A sharp gasp escapes you, your breath catching in your throat as your pussy clenches tightly around the vibrator, which suddenly feels less like a toy and more like him—big, thick, and filling you completely. You can almost feel the weight of him pressing against you, the way his cock would stretch you just right. Your lips part, another whimper escaping as the scene in your head becomes even more vivid.

“And those noises you’re making?” His voice, rich and dripping with desire, keeps echoing through your thoughts. “Baby, you drive me fucking,” his hips snap forward in your imagination, rough and unrelenting, “crazy,” another thrust sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. Your neck arches back, exposing your throat like you’re inviting him to claim you, his mouth finding the sensitive skin behind your ear, marking you, biting you. His lips would feel so good, so possessive, leaving trails of heat wherever they touch.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers against your skin, his breath hot in your ear. “Even after not seeing your pretty face for two months, all I see when I close my eyes is you.”

His teeth graze your earlobe, and it sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. Your hand moves from your breast down to your clit, fingers rubbing the tender nub with an urgency you can’t hold back any longer. You’re so close, so fucking close. 

“Oh, J-Javi,” you cry out, your voice breaking. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

The orgasm slams into you, cutting off your words, drowning your thoughts in white-hot pleasure. Your body spasms uncontrollably, juices dripping down as your vibrator hums between your legs. You’re shaking, utterly spent, your breath ragged, skin on fire.

“Good girl, nenita,” his voice purrs, the Spanish rolling off his tongue like honey. “Mira que belleza. It’s okay, I got you.”

It takes a moment for reality to snap back into place, the haze of pleasure lifting just enough for you to realize that he didn’t say it at all. It was the Javier on the screen, whispering sweet praise to the actress as he fucked her.

You lay there, boneless, too tired to care as the movie continues to play. But something feels off now, a strange sense of emptiness replacing the satisfaction you usually feel.

You pull the vibrator from between your legs, the wetness from your climax glistening on it as you flick the switch off and toss it carelessly onto the coffee table. You’ll clean it later.

Your body slumps against the cushions, head falling into your hands. “What the fuck did you just do?” You whisper to yourself.

Watching porn to get off? That’s normal, right? It’s what it’s made for. Lots of people do it. So why do you feel so… guilty? Is it because it was Javier? Of course it is. No matter how hard you try to push him out of your mind, he always finds a way back in—whether he’s there in front of you, or haunting you in the fantasies, you can’t seem to put him to rest.

And the timing? Not even an hour after being broken up with, and already you’ve let him worm his way back into your head, back into your body. It’s like he’s got you tangled up, literally and figuratively, even when he’s not here.

Unable to take any more of their exaggerated moans and whimpers, you reach for the remote and switch off the TV, the screen going dark as you eject the disc and shove it back into its case. You finally grab Pretty Woman, tossing it into the player without much thought, your head still spinning.

It’s only then that you remember the wine, the one thing that might actually help clear your head. You stand, sluggish and sore, pulling your clothes back on and heading downstairs to fetch that much-needed bottle, your thoughts still racing, still trying to untangle the mess that is Javier Peña lodged firmly in your mind.

“Just know, I didn’t plan this.”

Steve’s words make you squint in suspicion as he slides onto the barstool next to you, his usual spot. You’re about to ask what he means when your heart plummets—there he is. The familiar broad frame of the handsome man you’ve been trying—and failing—to scrub from your mind ever since your breakup two weeks ago. Hell, before then too.

“What’s he doing here?” you hiss, shooting Steve a glare so sharp it could cut glass.

“He caught me off guard, okay? Basically invited himself. Don’t make it weird,” he mutters, clearly trying to avoid your wrath.

You bite down hard on your tongue, trying to keep your frustration in check. But then your gaze collides with Javier’s, and it feels like the wind has been knocked out of you.

Those deep brown eyes, glinting beneath the dim lighting, pin you in place, stirring up everything you’ve been trying to bury. It’s infuriating how he seems even more attractive than the last time you saw him, like life just decided to up the ante on making him impossible to forget.

Clearing your throat, you force yourself to look away, frantically trying to busy your hands. Anything to keep from talking to him. But it’s hard to focus when every cell in your body is hyper-aware of his presence just a few feet away.

“I’m going on break!” Connie’s chirpy voice feels like nails on a chalkboard, and you don’t miss the way she winks at Steve before grabbing his arm and leading him to the back.

Ah, so that’s why he’s here earlier than usual. 

“Thirty minutes!” You shout after her, but your heart’s not in it. You’re too preoccupied with the fact that you’re now alone at the bar with Javier and a few of the happy hour regulars.

He leans forward on his elbows, casual but impossibly magnetic in a jean jacket and a cream-colored shirt. His sunglasses hang from the unbuttoned portion near his collarbones, and you can smell that familiar scent of cigarette smoke and cologne that’s been seared into your memory. “So this is the illustrious Lucky’s,” he says, his deep voice wrapping around you like a slow burn.

“The one and only,” you manage to reply, keeping your tone clipped.

“Been doin’ okay?”

“I’ve been managing.” Your words come out a little too quick, a little too defensive, but you can’t help it. 

He tilts his head, his gaze steady. “Still seeing that guy?”

There’s an unmistakable tinge of jealousy laced in his voice, and your heart skips a beat. You meet his eyes for a moment before going back to drying the cheap chalices your boss insisted on for an upcoming theme night.

“That guy has a name,” you correct him coolly. “But no. That ship sailed two weeks ago.”

A low hum escapes his throat, and he drums his fingers lightly against the countertop. “A shame.”

“Can I get you anything?” You ask, a little too forcefully. The question feels like a challenge, and from the way his eyes glint, you know he feels it too.

He lets the tension simmer between you for a moment before finally answering, “Just a Corona.”

“Lime?” 

“Of course, nena.”

That fucking term of endearment hits you like a punch to the gut. It’s what he’s always called you, ever since the very first time you met. And damn it, it’s the same name he whispers in your ear when you imagine him thrusting balls deep inside you, filling you with every inch of his cock.

Your breath hitches before you can stop it, the heat rising in your cheeks as you fumble for a lime. You slice it, hands shaking ever so slightly as you wedge it into the bottle, sliding it across the bar to him.

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you, his gaze burning with the unspoken tension that always builds when you’re around each other.

You can feel it too—the weight of all the unsaid things hanging in the air. All the desire. All the frustration.

He thanks you softly. “So, Steve finally got himself a girl.” He tries to continue the mundane conversation, amused as he leans in, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You try not to notice the way his neck muscles work when he takes a sip of his beer, but it’s impossible not to. You hate the way your body responds, the small flutter in your stomach that you wish would just stop.

“Yeah, he’s been chasing her for months, and she finally gave in. Probably the best thing that could’ve happened for both of them.”

A patron calls for your attention, and you gladly take the opportunity to escape the moment, throwing yourself into mixing a drink with practiced ease. But even as you pour and stir, you feel his eyes on you.

“You look happier here.” His voice breaks the silence when you return, the words almost lazy as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Fake happiness. It’s what gets the tips.”

“Okay, yeah, sure,” he says, leaning in a little, eyes narrowing. “But the way you’re moving back there—you know what you’re doing. I don’t think I ever saw you crack a single smile while we were on set.”

“I did,” you shoot back, feeling your pulse quicken. “Just none of them were directed at you.” The animosity in your tone surprises even you, and you catch the way his brow furrows, a flash of hurt crossing his face.

You quickly smooth it over with a smirk. “Besides, not much to smile about when people are getting fucked stupid in front of a camera.”

“Back to the familiar song and dance, huh?” His voice is steady, but there’s a sharpness beneath the surface.

You scoff, shaking your head as you wipe your hands on your apron. “What are you doing here, Javier?” This time, the question comes out more straight to the point.

He looks at you for a beat, partially confused, “Drinking a beer…”

“At this specific bar, where I’ve worked for two years and you’ve never once showed up until today. Why?” 

For a moment, the two of you stare at each other, locked in a silent standoff. He’s reading you just as you’re trying to read him, both of you too proud—or too scared—to make the next move. Finally, he breaks the silence.

“You want the truth?”

“That’s why I asked.”

“I’ve missed you, nena.”

Your stomach drops and you force yourself to keep your face neutral, but it’s hard. “I regret asking,” you mutter, glancing at your watch. Connie has fifteen minutes left on her break, then you’re done for the night. You’ll be free—at least from the bar, if not from the weight of this conversation.

“Ever since you left,” he continues, not giving you the out you desperately want, “I’ve been trying to figure out why you’re so standoffish. You say it’s because you don’t like me, but I just don’t think that’s true.”

“Well,” you bite out, “assuming has never gotten you anywhere worth being at, right?”

He rubs a hand over his mustache. He’s thinking, trying to find the right words.

“Right,” he finally agrees, tone softer now, more thoughtful. “Listen, I’ve never been good at the whole… talking thing. It’s been my downfall for as long as I can remember.”

Despite yourself, you give him a look that encourages him to keep going.

“And the shit between us? It’s weird. I’d like to move on, but I can’t. You’ve somehow managed to get into every fucking corner of my mind, and no matter what I do, I can’t shake you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You suck in a sharp breath, your fingers gripping the wooden countertop. His words hit too close to home because they echo the feelings you’ve been wrestling with since you walked away from him.

Do you admit it? Do you tell him that he’s been haunting your thoughts just as much? Or do you keep it all locked up, close to your chest, where it’s safe and won’t blow up in your face later?

“What do you really want, Javier?” You don’t have time for games, and if he’s here to throw another curveball into your life, you’d rather snip it before it gets any worse.

He pauses, running a hand through his hair, then looks back at you with an expression you haven’t seen in a while—one that’s sincere. “I just want a moment to talk to you,” he says softly. “No bullshit this time. Just you and me.”

You wrestle with yourself, unsure if you want to give in. You’ve heard him talk like this before, but something feels different. He seems like he’s laying all his cards out, but you’ve been hurt enough to know better than to let your guard down too quickly.

Your eyes flick to the clock on the wall, counting the minutes until your shift ends. You chew on your lip, deliberating with yourself, feeling the weight of his gaze on you as you try to make a decision.

Finally, after a beat, you let out a long breath and nod. “I’m off in twenty minutes,” you say, voice steady. “We can talk at my place, but this is the last time we have this conversation, Javier. No more of this back and forth.”

His face lights up, unmistakably relieved, and for a second, you see that glimmer of hope in his eyes. He sits a little taller, less tense, and his smile is soft but genuine. “Thank you,” he says, almost under his breath, like he wasn’t sure you’d agree. “I parked a few blocks down. I can come get you—”

You cut him off, pointing upward. “I live upstairs.”

Javier blinks, then chuckles, the tension between you easing slightly with that simple realization. “Oh,” he says, a little sheepish. “Okay.” For some reason, that small exchange makes both of you laugh—genuine, real laughter, the kind you haven’t shared in a while. It’s a brief moment of lightness before the weight of everything settles back in.

But before either of you can say more, you’re pulled back to the present as the place picks up with a small rush. The door swings open, and a few regulars take their usual spots, dragging you back into your role behind the bar. Javier moves out of the way, leaning back against his stool, watching you as you work.

It doesn’t take long for Connie to return, looking slightly disheveled, her cheeks flushed from whatever she and Steve were up to in the back. You raise an eyebrow, giving her a teasing smirk as she approaches. “Thirty minutes, huh? You sure you didn’t need forty?” You quip, poking fun at her the same way she did to you on Halloween night.

She narrows her eyes at you, but there’s a playful glint in them. “Shut up,” she mutters, straightening her apron. “You know I could’ve dragged it out longer if I wanted.”

You shake your head, chuckling as you hand over the bar to the guy coming in to replace you. Your shift is finally over, and you can feel the tension easing from your shoulders. With one last glance at the clock, you turn toward Javier, who’s still waiting, watching you with that familiar intensity.

“Ready?” you ask, your voice more casual than you feel.

He nods, pushing off the counter to follow you out. Thankfully, Steve had left, but as you pass Connie, you don’t miss the way her eyes widen when she sees the sexy guy trailing behind you. She gives you a look—half amused, half impressed—and you can practically hear her thoughts.

You give her a small wave, shrugging off her knowing smirk as you push through the door, stepping out into the cool evening air.

He follows behind you silently as you climb the narrow staircase to your apartment, the low hum of the bar fading with each step. You can feel his presence like a warm current, that quiet intensity that always seems to wrap around you when he’s near. The proximity makes you hyper-aware of every sound—the creak of the steps beneath your feet, the soft rustle of his jacket as he moves, his shaky breaths from his lungs working overtime due to his constant smoking.

When you finally reach the top and push the door open, you step aside to let him in. He takes a slow look around, his eyes sweeping over the small but cozy space. Despite its shabby appearance—the chipped paint on the walls, the secondhand furniture—it’s undeniably yours.

The throw blankets on the couch, the mismatched mugs on the kitchen counter, the books scattered about. It’s lived-in and comfortable, and you catch the way Javier’s lips twitch in what might be a smile as he takes it all in.

“Okay,” you say, arms crossing as you stand by the kitchenette, keeping a reasonable distance between you. “What now? We’re here. It’s just me and you. What do you have to say to me?”

He hesitates for a moment, running a hand through his hair like he’s bracing himself. Then, he just… spills his guts. “I want you to give me one chance. Just one date,” he says, the words tumbling out faster than you expect. “I know I’ve screwed up before, and I know I’ve been cocky, but… I like you. Like, really like you. More than I’ve let on.”

You blink quickly. You weren’t expecting this—certainly not Javier Peña, of all people, to stand in your apartment and confess to having a legitimate crush on you. “No way,” you mutter, in time with your thoughts, a nervous giggle escaping before you can stop it.

It sounds ridiculous in your head, and even more absurd out loud. He likes you? He doesn’t even know you!

His frown deepens, his jaw tightening as if your reaction stings. “I’m serious,” he’s insistent, his dark eyes locking with yours.

You shake your head, still struggling to process this. “You just got tired of screwing around with all the pretty stars, so now you’re going after someone different. Trying a new flavor of the month by chasing after a girl on the crew.”

“Technically, you’re not on the crew anymore—” he starts, but cuts himself off when he sees the daggers you’re sending him.

He steps a little closer, his tone quieter but more earnest. “You told me earlier that assuming has never gotten me anywhere worth being at. So take your own advice, nena, and stop assuming I’m chasing after you for all the wrong reasons.”

There’s no trace of his usual bravado, no cocky grin or smooth line to disarm you. Just sincerity. And it’s that, more than anything, that makes you pause. For real this time.

“So I’m not just someone to scratch off your list?” You ask, daring him to lie.  

“Wha— no.”

“You really mean it?”  

“Do I need to get on my knees to convince you I’m serious?”  

“That’d be the least serious thing you could do.”  

His mouth twitches up into a half smirk. “So? Will you let me take you out?”

This feels like if you so much as blink, the moment will dissolve—nothing but smoke and mirrors. 

“Okay,” you breathe. “But if it doesn’t work out… then that’s it. You don’t come around here again. You leave me alone. For good.”  

His eyes narrow, but he nods, accepting the ultimatum.  

“Fair enough.” His voice dips into something dark and velvety, a timbre that’s all too familiar. It’s the same voice you’ve heard behind the camera, in the tape that you got yourself off to—low, coaxing, a caress in itself. And damn him, it’s working on you again. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”  

“When?” You ask him.

“You’re the one who works weekends. You tell me.”

“Next Saturday?” You offer, trying to sound casual.

“It’s a date.”  

A flutter of nerves skitters through your chest and you almost laugh again, so giddy, but you clamp down on it.

“Alright... I’ll walk you out.” Your voice sounds awkward to your own ears, but your feet stay rooted to the spot. So does he.  

His gaze sharpens. “You know,” he starts, rubbing his jaw in that infuriatingly familiar way, “Robbie kept saying you ‘broke’ me after that Malibu shoot with Mariella.” He air quotes broke and your expression turns confused.

“Well… he’s an idiot.”  

“He’s not wrong, though,” Javi murmurs, stepping closer, the space between you vanishing.  

Your breath hitches. “Javi…” you warn, but it sounds weak—like a plea dressed as a protest.  

“You were right.” His voice dips again, softer now, but no less dangerous. “Sleeping with barely-legal girls felt... wrong. The whole scene was just fucked. It took me too long to realize it.” He leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “But that’s not what broke me.”  

Your pulse stutters. “Then what?”  

“You,” he whispers, moving closer, until the heat of his body presses against yours. “Your voice. Your eyes.” His gaze dips to your mouth, and your knees threaten to give out. “Those soft lips you won’t let me kiss absolutely fucking broke me.”

Your lower back presses hard against the counter, pinned by the sheer gravity of him closing in. His scent is dizzying.  

Your nipples harden, tightening with each shallow breath you take, the heat between you wrapping around your body like a fever. Now that you’ve stopped fighting it, the tide of lust pulls you under, dragging you into the undertow.

He can’t just say these things to you and expect you to remain sane. Especially not after all your wet dreams he’s been the star of.

“The others don’t do it for me anymore and I’m not popping a pill to get fuckin’ hard.” He cages you in, planting both hands on the counter at your sides. His arms flex, his body crowding yours, then he leans in, his nose brushing the tip of yours in the kind of touch that feels both too soft and too intimate.

“Just standing here with you…” His hips roll forward, pressing against you. The solid ridge of his cock rubs against your stomach through his jeans, and the friction sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core.

You gasp, lips parting as you go weak.

“Oh…” you breathe, shakily, your voice barely more than a whimper. You bite down on your bottom lip, trying to keep some semblance of control, but his gaze locks onto the movement.

“I want to take care of you, nena. Por favor.” His voice drips with need, every word laced with intent. “Let me make you feel good again. I need to make you feel good.”

Memories flash like lightning—the way his mouth felt between your thighs and how it left such an impression that you quit your fucking job (okay maybe not because of that necessarily but it was a butterfly effect)

“Javi…” Your voice is a strained warning, as you press your hand to his shoulder, ready to push him back if you needed to throw some metaphorical ice on this heated moment to chill both of you the fuck out. “I’m not going to fuck you right now.”

“I’m not asking you to…” His hand comes up to take yours at his shoulder into his, bringing it up to his lips to give it a gentle kiss.

God, you just about come right then and there.

“You want to go down on me again?”

He groans, his mouth grazing your knuckles as if tasting you again. “I’ll always want that. Always.” His voice is strained. “But tonight, pretty girl, I just—fuck—I need to feel you.”

“But you just said—”

“I know baby,” he cradles your face and you let him, horny out of your mind and absolutely under his spell. “Just let me put the tip in.”

“What?” You ask, moving back from him to stare up into his eyes.

“The head of my cock. Let me put it in and feel how wet and warm you are.” 

Your thighs clench instinctively, the ache between them growing unbearable. Images of his cock flood your mind—thick, veined, and heavy, flashing like a montage you can’t shake.

The thought of him, so close, pressing inside just enough to tease, makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I-I’ve never done that before... isn’t that—” You shake your head, struggling to wrap your mind around the idea.

“It’ll feel so good, I promise. If you don’t like it I’ll pull out and leave.”

His eyes still hold that sincerity from before, and it tugs at your heart, which has moved its pulse downstairs at the thought of feeling just a little bit of him.

It’s intoxicating, giving you the power to decide just how much of him you’ll take. How deep he’ll bury himself. How much you’ll let him fuck into you. 

A moan slips from your lips, unbidden, and his eyes darken, his jaw tightening at the sound. He’s holding back, but barely—waiting, craving, needing your consent like it���s the only thing tethering him to reality.

“Fuck,” you whisper, already lost. “Whatever, just do it. Do it before I change my mind.”

You squeal as he spins you around, your hands coming up to steady yourself against the counter.

You went out and bought a mini denim skirt after seeing it on the pornstar he fucked in the tow truck scene because you thought it was cute, and now you’re sort of living out that fantasy here with him as he pushes it up high on your hips, exposing your very lackluster underwear.

“Damn…” His hands are all over you, kneading your ass, the rough squeeze of his palms making you whine, back arching instinctively for more. “These are hot as fuck.”

Your cheeks heat up, because no way he thinks your mauve colored hipsters are hot.

He hooks his fingers under the waistband and drags them down your legs, letting them pool at your ankles. You step out of them, still in your sneakers, feeling utterly exposed. But the way he looks at you makes you feel desired.

With a firm hand, he presses against the small of your back, coaxing you into a deeper arch. His hands glide down your thighs, strong fingers gripping where your knee bends, lifting your leg and placing it on the counter. The shift spreads you open for him, your slick, swollen folds glistening in the dim light.

“Fuck...” His voice is pure gravel, rough with need, as he drinks in the sight of you. And then he drops to his knees, right behind you, and buries his face between your legs.

“Oh my—fuck!” you cry, jerking forward against the counter, totally unprepared for the onslaught of his tongue.

He doesn’t hold back—doesn’t ease you into it—just dives in like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with fervor. The obscene sounds of his tongue dragging through your wetness and the desperate groans vibrating from his throat make your head spin. You’re shaking, trying to catch your breath, but it’s useless with the way he devours you.

He licks every inch of your pussy, his tongue flat and broad one second, sharp and focused the next, flicking across your clit with precision. When he sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, the wet suction sends sparks shooting through your body.

Your forehead thuds against the cabinet in front of you as you babble out his name in breathless, broken curses, pleasure building in tight, pulsing waves. Your legs tremble under his relentless attention, and it feels like he’s not just eating you out—he’s worshiping you, savoring every moment like a man starved.

“Javi—oh my—fuck!” You can barely string two words together, the intensity of it dragging you closer and closer to the edge.

His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he buries his face deeper, groaning like he can’t get enough of you. And god dammit, you love it. You love the way he’s lost in you, the way his tongue moves like he knows exactly how to pull you apart. It’s filthy, messy, perfect.

He pulls back after a few minutes, reluctantly breaking away from the warmth of you, even though every fiber in his body begs him to stay—tongue, nose, and fingers lost in your sweetness for hours, watching you unravel again and again. He forces himself to move, savoring the way your breath stutters in frustration at the loss.  

The soft metallic clink of his belt buckle being undone makes your heart race, and your pussy clenches reflexively, aching to be filled.  

“Mmm, she’s ready for me, isn’t she?” He’s so smug, watching the way your cunt flutters at the mere thought of his cock sliding inside you. Even just the tip.  

You don’t answer—you can’t answer. The anticipation has stolen every word, every coherent thought from your brain. All you hear is the pounding rush of blood in your ears.

Javier steps in closer, the heat of his body pressing against your back. His hand snakes around you, rough fingers brushing your chin before hovering just beneath your lips.  

“Spit,” he commands, his tone low and firm.  

Like the desperate thing you are, you part your lips without hesitation, letting a hot thread of saliva drip into his waiting palm.  

A deep, approving grunt rumbles from his chest. “Good girl.”  

Your cheeks burn at the praise, and you clench again as he takes your offering, wrapping his wet palm around the thick length of his cock. He strokes himself slowly, hissing through his teeth, the slick sound of his fist dragging over his shaft making your breath hitch.  

Then, without warning, you feel the velvety head of his cock glide through the slick folds of your cunt.  

Both of you shudder—your soft whimper mingling with his guttural groan.  

He drags the swollen tip along your slit, gathering your arousal, and when he nudges it against your throbbing clit, your hips jerk instinctively.  

“Relax, bella,” he warns, his hand tightening on your waist to steady you. “Unless you want me to bust my load all over this pretty clit right now.”  

That filthy mouth of his makes you want to slap him—and kiss him—until you both can’t breathe.  

He keeps teasing you both, swirling the sensitive head over your clit again, tapping it lightly against the swollen bundle of nerves. Your thighs tremble with need, and your pussy clenches again, desperate to take him inside.  

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice gravelly with restraint as he lines himself up with your entrance. “So fucking wet…”  

He tilts his hips just enough to press the head of his cock against your dripping hole, and you gasp, your body instinctively arching toward him.  

“¿Lista?” he whispers, his voice softer now, more intimate. He leans in, pressing his lips to the crook of your neck, trailing gentle kisses over your skin between ragged breaths.  

You nod frantically, not trusting your voice to form words.  

Then, slowly—achingly slow—he pushes the tip inside.  

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear.  

A sharp, breathless moan escapes you as he stretches you open, your cunt greedily sucking him in. The sensation is electric, overwhelming—just enough to tease, just enough to leave you craving more.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Why the fuck does this feel so good?

Javier groans, forehead pressed to your shoulder, his cock twitching inside you as he fights to keep from plunging deeper. “Puta madre nenita, this pussy esta tan rica.” 

He stills, savoring the way your tight heat wraps around just the tip of him. His blunt fingernails dig into the skin of your hips as he struggles to keep his hips from moving.

But you can’t help it. Your hips move on their own, rolling back just enough to take more of him inside, the smooth slide of his length sending sparks through your body. A whimper slips from your lips as your walls clench around what little of him you have, the stretch so good it has your eyes fluttering shut, your head tipping forward.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move,” he growls, low and dangerous, and the sound of it shoots straight to your cunt.

You whine softly, biting your lip, as he drags the inches you stole back out, leaving just the swollen head nestled at your entrance. The tease is unbearable, like dangling water in front of someone dying of thirst.

“Javi, I can’t help it,” you moan, the frustration bubbling over into a pout. Your hand drifts down between your thighs, fingers brushing your slick, needy clit. You need something—anything—to relieve the pressure.

His hand is lightning fast, grabbing your wrist and yanking it back to the counter. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He sounds almost offended.

“I need to feel something,” you whimper, shifting your hips desperately against him.

He clicks his tongue, as if scolding you, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re already feeling the head of this cock, aren’t you? And you’re still being greedy, trying to touch this pretty little pussy after I told you I’d take care of you.”

His hand slides from your waist, gliding lower, fingers hovering just above where you need him most. The promise of his touch makes your thighs quiver, and you let out a desperate little whine, arching your back in a silent plea.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, his voice low and rough, thick with control barely held in check.

You know exactly what he looks like—jaw tight, eyes burning with hunger, teeth gritted as he holds back from sinking all the way into you. And it makes you ache even more.

“Touch me, Javi, please,” you beg, your voice a breathy, needy little mewl. You throw your head back against his shoulder, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, batting your lashes shamelessly.

A low, satisfied hum vibrates from his chest, and his fingers finally press against your slick, swollen folds. He groans softly as he feels how you’re stretching around the head of his cock, his fingertips tracing the puffy lips before circling lazily over your throbbing clit.

“Ohhh, just like that,” you moan, the sound slipping from you naturally, raw and unfiltered—nothing like the exaggerated performances he’s used to. This is real, and it only makes him harder.

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his breath hot against your neck, “I can’t wait to ruin this pussy, nenita. Gonna make you feel better than any malparido before me.”

His fingers keep working your clit, slow and steady, each stroke dragging you closer to madness. Your hips start to grind against his hand and the blunt head of his cock, desperate for more, for everything.

And the way he’s talking—like you’re his to wreck, his to please—makes you feel like you’ll lose your mind.

You suck in a sharp breath, feeling the jealousy dancing on his fingertips as he works your clit faster, his movements switching between precision and wild hunger.

He rolls the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it just hard enough to make you gasp. Then, his touch softens—soothing circles, spreading your slick everywhere—before he tugs at your swollen nub, sending shocks of pleasure deep into your core, like fireworks are exploding down there.

“Tell me,” he growls, voice rough with possessiveness. “Did he fuck you good?”

The blunt tip of his cock stays snug at your entrance, and every pinch, every flick of his fingers makes your walls clench greedily around it, desperate for more.

“W-Who?” you whimper, genuinely lost in the haze of his touch. Your mind has melted, everything but the sensations he’s feeding you slipping away like vapor.

That answer pleases him—makes something wicked curl in his chest. His grin presses against your neck, and the wet heat of his tongue drags a slow, deliberate stripe along your skin. Then, he bites down, sucking hard, marking you in that one spot you’ve only ever dreamt of him nipping at.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs, voice dripping with satisfaction.

Your hand finds his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands, tugging hard enough to make him groan against your neck. The heat swirling in your belly tightens to a near-breaking point, your orgasm creeping up on you with every flick of his relentless fingers.

“Javi—fuck—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, voice breaking, sounding needy and pitiful.

“I know, baby,” he rasps. “I can feel her gettin’ all tight and messy for me. C’mon, nena, let it happen. I’ve got you.”

He keeps his pace steady—no sudden changes, no wild moves—just the same focused rhythm he’s built up, making your nerves sing, each flick and stroke a perfectly calibrated promise of release.

Your body responds like it always does for him: beautifully. His name falls from your lips like a sweet song. Your hips grind instinctively, chasing the steady friction of his slick fingers.

“More, Javi—oh, please—more,” you gasp, knowing exactly what you need, what only he can give you. You’re ready for him to shove deep inside, to fill you, stretch you, ruin you with the thick cock still teasing your entrance.

If you had said this maybe five minutes ago, he would have obliged, but he’s got a point to prove now. And that point is restraint—his self control.

“Not tonight, pretty girl,” he murmurs darkly, laden with lust and dominance. “You’re gonna come just like this.”

Then, without warning, his hand shifts, and he slaps your pussy—once, twice, three times. The sound is wet and obscene, and the sharp sting sends a shockwave straight to your core.

That’s what breaks you. Your orgasm crashes over you like a violent, unstoppable wave, ripping through your body with terrifying force.

“Fuck—Javi!” you scream, your walls fluttering and pulsing wildly around the head of his cock, soaking his hand in your release as your legs threaten to give out beneath you.

He groans, watching you unravel for him, every twitch and spasm feeding his ego. His fingers don’t stop—stroking you through the aftershocks, coaxing every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body.

Your vision swims, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the euphoria leaves you floating, weightless. And even though he hasn’t buried himself inside you like you wanted, somehow, this feels even more intimate—like he’s branded himself into you without needing to fuck you at all.

The way your pussy grips him sends a shudder down his spine, and with a strangled curse, his balls tighten, his climax hot on the heels of yours. 

“Fuck—” he groans, yanking his cock out just in time, the thick spurts of his cum painting your slick, swollen pussy, making a filthy mess.

Both of you pant, trying to catch your breath, the room heavy with the scent of sex. A sharp hiss escapes your lips as his fingers slide lazily through your soaked folds, mixing the remnants of both your pleasure. When he gathers the sticky blend on his fingers and brings them to your mouth, the hunger in his gaze makes your heart race.  

“Have a taste, baby.”

Without hesitation, you part your lips, taking his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them with obscene enthusiasm. You moan at the heady, salty taste—like liquid sin on your tongue. It’s addictive, and you suck greedily until his fingers are spotless, releasing them with a wet pop that makes his eyes darken further.  

You glance up at him over your shoulder, lips slightly swollen from your efforts. 

“You okay?” he asks, his tone soft.

You nod, still dazed, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin. “Better than okay. That was... wow.”  

His soft grin blooms into a cocky smirk, and he helps clean you up before gently moving your leg off the counter. As he tucks himself back into his jeans, you adjust your skirt, smoothing it down with shaky hands.  

“Where are my panties?” you ask, glancing around, still floating in the afterglow.  

He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling them out with a sly grin. “Oh, these?”  

You reach for them, but he swiftly lifts them out of reach.  

“I think I’ll hold onto them.”  

Heat rises to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes at him, but the lazy, satisfied smile on your lips betrays your mock indignation. “Why? Perv.”  

His grin widens, unabashed. “A little memento… to remind me of this. I’ll give them back next Saturday.” He slips them back into his pocket.

You roll your eyes, too blissed out to care. “I can’t believe we just did that.”  

He steps closer, wrapping his arms around you, the warmth of his embrace catching you off guard. After all the resistance you’ve given him, letting him hold you like this feels foreign.

“Told you it’d feel good,” he murmurs smugly, his lips brushing your temple. “Didn’t think you’d be the one to cave first and beg for the whole thing, though.”  

You scoff, giving his hip a playful pinch. “I got caught up in the heat of the moment, okay? You might’ve scored a date and... a semi-fuck, but I’m still sticking to those boundaries. For now.”  

“Does that mean I still can’t kiss you?”  

Oh, hell. He’s already been inside you—well, kind of. What’s one little kiss? But no. You’re trying to make a point here.  

“Nope,” you reply, stopping him with a finger pressed lightly against his lips just as he leans in. “Not until you buy me dinner first.”  

His smirk deepens, and instead of protesting, he kisses the tip of your finger. 

“Deal.”

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories

@greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl .

🏷️ : @pasc4lfuzz . @sjc7542 . @almostfoxglove . @shy-taylorsversion . @theredvelvetbitch

@xxbadchoicexx . @lumpatto . @haylee-e . @yxtkiwiyxt . @guelyury . @itwasntimethatdidit40 . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @thundermartini . @correapunk .

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.

about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.

“you could kill me if you wanted to.”

it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “

“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.

“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”

“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.

you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”

“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”

satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.

his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.

in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.

he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”

there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.

“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”

“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”

“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.

“i need you.”

“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”

“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.

usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.

those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.

“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”

but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”

your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[tvhsleb3ww]

SKINCARE ROUTINE - MIYA ATSUMU

swearing, flirting, pda, husband! tsumu, pure fluff honestly

"ouch! yer bein' too rough on me!"

atsumu groaned in pure agony as you pulled the blackhead remover on his nose. you scoffed before rolling your eyes at him.

"i'm being gentle! you're the one who's being dramatic here"

his lips curl into a pout as his hand that rested on your waist squeezed your flesh. his hair is combed to the back with a fox headband and his face is all glossy from the skincare products.

"this dramatic man yer sayin' is yer hubby. spare some love for me"

he huffs as he leans down so that you can apply the clay mask on his face. as stubborn as he is, he'd still listen and oblige to you. you're the only one he'll listen to aside his ma. never osamu though.

it was a Friday night and it was time for your weekly skincare routine where you do your usual skincare but just add a little more steps such as exfoliating and clay masks! and what better way to spend it if it wasn't with your husband?

atsumu had just returned from multiple oversea games due to the volleyball season. he's finally taking a break and spending all his holiday time with his lovely wife that can actually be real mean to him sometimes.

"there you go. now, we just let it rest for 20 minutes"

his pout grows at your words. what the hell is he supposed to do for 20 minutes with a mask on his face? although, he must admit that the skincare is lovely and rejuvenating. especially when you apply it to him. he loves to feel your soft hands caressing him.

"hmm, i wanna feel your soft hands on me, baby"

he whispered as he leaned down to press a brief kiss on your lips. his hand moving to the side of your face so he can kiss you. you happily smile against his lips before pushing him away gently.

"your lip scrub is still intact, tsum"

he scoffs and takes your hand that was on his chest to his shoulder.

"fuck some lip scrub. yer lips are my lip scrub"

you laughed as he leaned in again to press his lips against yours. you happily kissed him back and after some time, you pulled away to catch your breath.

both of you stayed there just smiling and enjoying each other's presence. his hands squeeze your waist as he pressed a kiss on the corner of your lips. you snickered as you feel his lips all over your face.

"ya know a missed you like hell, right?"

he asked in a teasing manner as he pokes your waist, making you jolt because it tickles. you playfully smacked his shoulder, making him laugh.

"i missed you too, tsum. i'm just happy you're doing skincare with me"

"ya crazy? i'd ditch disneyland for ya!"

he exclaims and nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, making you tickle. you giggled as your arm wrap around his neck.

"tsum stop it! your clay mask hasn't dried yet!"

he laughs as he place wet kisses on your neck and exposed shoulder due to your loose shirt (his shirt). he makes overexaggerated kissing noises just to annoy you. you laugh and playfully smacked his back.

"you're so annoying, tsum!"

he smirks at that before continuing to press kisses on your collarbone.

"yknow i got an idea on how we should spend the night"

"shoot"

"oh baby, ya know what it is"

he says with a playful wink.

[kombuuuu]

HEYY!!! Can you maybe write a fic or small drabble where fem!reader wants hobie to hang upside down so they can ‘spider man kiss’.

(also i luv the way you write hobie :P)

Spider Kisses

Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

“What’re you— oh!”

small thingyyyyy, added a little twist tho C:

—

“Hobie?” Your voice rang throughout the empty alleyway behind your apartment, light disappearing behind the building wall your lover was currently — decorating.

“Wh— Oh! [Name], babe, come look a’ this.”

You partner turned to you, currently hanging from a suspended pole connecting one building to another.

Webs wrapped around his ankles to keep him hanging upside-down. Left hand holding a green can of spray paint, and right holding a paint ridden cloth.

His shirt was riding up (down?) due to gravity, the small peak of skin covered in different paint streaks that matched the tones the wall was now bearing.

“what’re you doing up there?”

He shook the van again, spraying a little detail onto the mural, then wiping a line through the fresh paint to reveal the colour underneath.

“‘M paintin’, love.”

He turned to you, synthetic eyes wide and emoted.

“C’mere, come try.”

He shook the cloth in a ‘come hither’ motion, paint flecks landing on his shirt. You approached him happily, getting close to his mask-clad face.

“Don’ get too close t’ the fumes now, babe.” You rolled your eyes at his playful tone, turning back towards the art to get your first real look at it.

A low whistle came from behind you, “Nice view.”

“Shut it, bug.”

“Arachnid.”

“Whatever.”

You felt Hobie grab his web, releasing his ankles and dropping down by one arm. His feet hurting the ground with a small scuff.

Taking the first good look at his creation, you noticed how you were the centre of it. A dazzling smile with your features painted in a light you’d never known. He’d made you feel so beautiful.

The colours behind you complimented the shades of your hair and strokes of abstract making your features evermore admirable.

“Jesus, Hobie — this is gorgeous.”

“All you, babe.”

He crowded up behind you, letting his slender hands carter’s the skin along your waist and stomach. His muffled voice dropped low to your ear. “Like this, doll.” His right hand travelled up your arm, sliding over yours and disconnecting to wipe at the fresh paint.

His left hand stayed put against your abdomen, squeezing unconsciously. He handed you the cloth, watching your fingers wrap around the fabric and bringing his hand back to your upper arm, rubbing along your skin in a soothing matter.

“Now drag it along there, yeah? Right where it’s still wet.”

You snorted at the innuendo. Hobie scoffing at your childish thoughts and softly pinching your skin.

“Oh, grow up.”

You refocused, dragging your hand along the shade of purple and blue. Streaking them together and revealing the pink underneath.

“Good, you’re a natural at this point.”

You laughed lightly, turning your head towards his.

“It was one stroke, Hobes.”

He winked, a devilish smirk rising his smile lines. “All it takes wit’ you, ain’t it?”

“Oh my god, you’re crude.”

“Nah baby, ‘m honest ‘s all.”

You brought your hand back towards you looking up at the painting again. "Finishing touches."

You gave him a quick, curious "hmm?", before you felt the cloth leave your hands too fast for you to realise. The "thwip" of his webs alerting you of his methods — right as the sound registered in your head, he had shot another back onto the aforementioned pipe, and reached to swipe at the paint around your hair, melting it into you and making you stand out stark against the cohesive colours. "Looks good, dun' it babe?"

"Uhuh."

He spared you a glance, smiling under his mask at the distracted sound of your voice, when he caught you watching him, and not his painting — he could excuse it.

A thought had breached your head, one that had been popping up ever since you had gone to dimension 1806 with him.

—

"Hobie, I'm not a spider person! I can't leave!"

"But I made you a watch?" "

Yes— thank you, I love it. But also that's not the point."

"But the watch.."

"Fuck, fine. Whatever. Don't use that tone on me again."

"Say it's for science."

"Fuck science."

—

That day you had found something.. intriguing. A comic. With a rather interesting cover design. Spiderman — not yours — plastered on the front, upside down, with his mask folded up and kissing Mary Jane. It was probably the most romantic thing you'd ever seen. And now you had the chance.

"Baby."

Hobie stopped wiping the excess paint, giving you his full attention. "Yeah doll, what's 'e matter?"

"Can you— do the thing.. you were doing before?"

He gave you a quizzical look, eyes in his mask squinting. "Painting? I'm almost done, sweethear'. Now I just got'a wipe way the—,"

"No.. no, the uhh.. Thing."

"Babe, ya' gon' have ta' be a bit more specific."

"The— upside down thing."

He snorted. Still hanging from his left hand. "Wh— yeah? I can do it, but—,"

"Don't question my decisions, Hobes."

"God damn, sweethear', speak t' me like 'at more often."

You laughed just as he did, glee falling from your lips as you shifted closer to him. He twisted his body to raise his legs above himself, wrapping the webs around his ankles once more.

"Now what—"

You brought your hands up to his spandex covered cheeks, tracing the lines of his cheekbones under the soft skin of your fingers. Tracing your hands higher, you toyed with the lip of his mask. Exposing the skin of his neck and watching his Adams apple bob out of nerve. "Can I?"

"Whatever you want, Luv."

You rolled the mask just past his nose, hooking it over his bridge, surprising him. He opened his mouth to question why you hadn't taken the whole thing off, before your lips stopped him.

He melted into you, your hands stroking over his cheeks and chin.

It was awkward trying to find your position at first, but you both quickly adapted, his hands finding the belt loops of your jeans and tugging you closer to him. You smiled into the kiss and he followed, laughing about how this was the motive to your request.

Your lips disconnected and he grinned like a fool.

"Tha's why?"

"Oh, shut. It was romantic."

He chuckled again, pulling you in for another kiss.

"Never said otherwise, pretty thing."

—

phone still broken , just like my heart hastag KIILL ME BOW

that was sarcasm but YIPEEEE HOBIEEEE!!!!!

[iiiiiiis-things]

ꨄ bsf!Satoru headcannons

ꨄ bsf!Satoru who whenever you lean down to pick up something he immediately walks over, back facing you, as he covers your bent over form from preying eyes of horny teenage boys

ꨄ bsf!Satoru who takes you on mini shopping sprees when you succeed on a mission or pass an important test

ꨄ bsf!Satoru who teaches you everything you need to know about boys & how to know they're cheating as you do the same with girls

❥ "-and if he breaks up with you for 'mental issues' he probably got bored of you" he explains as the two of you sit criss cross in pretty pink silk robes on the softness of his king sized mattress. you nod and apply the peel off face mask on his tinted pink cheeks "so like what does it mean when a boy starts to flirt with you out of the blue?" "he's either lookin for a hoe, or it was a dare" letting out a small okay as you finish up with the face mask you lean back admiring who perfect the ridges were, you grab your phone to take a picture "pose!" you shout and soon laugh as he lays down with an arms over his face making an overly exaggerated expression after snapping a few pics you open insta to post them "hey so... is the g-spot real? because i heard it was a myth-"

ꨄ bsf!Satoru who whenever you ask for a soda you hear 679 by fetty wap began to play in the background

ꨄ bsf!Satoru who damn near cries when you ditch him for- out of all people- utahime

ꨄ bsf!Satoru who makes it his life mission to cheer you up whenever you're pissed off

ꨄ bsf!Satoru who whenever you say "i love you" he responds with a fat ass smile and an "i love you more"

❥ “I love you" satoru looks over at you writing things in your journal most likely studying for the upcoming test, his heart squeezing at the words that just left your mouth as it was completely random and out the blue. he admires your beauty, grin growing wider and wider as you twirl the pen in your hand reading over your notes checking is they made any sense "i love you more" this causes you to tear your attention away from the notebook and look at satoru who's smiling hard as hell "well i love you most!" "nuh un not possible!"

ꨄ bsf!Satoru who whenever you drag him to the dance floor at the snowball he sneakily sends your ex a smirk before harshly bumping into his shoulder

ꨄ bsf!Satoru who walks into your apartment whenever he wants bc he has the spare key

ꨄ bsf!Satoru who hides your actual key so you can call him for the spare

whenever ꨄ bsf!Satoru goes under the table you know to cover the edge of it with your hand since his infinity is always down when he's around you

a/n- this is based off of my bsf!toru post so please check it out ♥︎

back 2 masterlist

[plussizeficchick]

Artist Boyfriend | Jungkook x Chubby!Reader

Summary; “He’s not my real boyfriend, he’s my artist boyfriend.” (Loosely based on the movie “Dinner in America”, and this edit.)

Warnings: Street Artist!Jungkook, public sex, P in V, panty sniffing, breeding kink, mildly jealous Jungkook, somewhat bad boy!jk? (He runs from the law).

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest when you hear someone practically fall into your flower shop. You lean your head over the oak counter, looking to see who it was. 

He had dark hair, the curls slick with sweat making them more pronounced. He was breathing heavily, and you’d be lying if you said his labored breaths weren’t causing a heat to build in your lower stomach. 

Get it together (Y/N)!

“Hey, you need some help?” Jungkook’s head jolts in the direction of your voice. You hold up your hands in mock surrender, showing that you mean no harm. 

This was bad. Really bad. Pretty soon the cops would be rounding the corner looking for “him” but there was nowhere for him to hide besides the flower shop that he accidentally stumbled into. “Uh, I-” He was at a loss for words as his eyes ran over your plump figure. 

You were fucking beautiful.

You wore an off the shoulder sundress that hugged your stomach and tits quite nicely, if he says so himself. Your thick thighs were on display, making his mouth water slightly at the thought of possibly feeling those wrapped around his head. 

“Mister?” You furrow your brows, what’s up with this guy? “Hide me.” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. “Huh?!” He quickly shushes you, his warm eyes softening, almost pleading with you. “Please, hide me. I’ll explain after.” You don’t know what compels you, but you end up agreeing, hiding him behind your counter, just in time for the cops to rear their heads. 

“‘Scuse us ma’am, have you seen a young man running in this direction? Black ski mask, dark clothes, the like.” You do your best to be convincing, “Yeah! Saw him run down that way, though it looked like he hopped on a bus.” You shrug. The police turn their heads just in time to see a bus leaving the stop. One tosses his hat to the ground, visibly upset, “Damn it! We had that little shit! We were so close!” You’re a bit startled at the display, eyes shifting to the fugitive that you’ve essentially housed. “Calm down, Han before you scare the poor girl.” He gestures towards you. “We’ll get him next time. Thank you for your help, miss.” You bid them farewell, and when you’re sure that they won’t be returning, you lock your door, turning over the Out For Lunch sign.

“Explain.” You say, arms folded over your chest. You may not have meant to, but the action causes your breast to accentuate, the fat practically spilling over the top. Oh to feel the sweet softness, to feel them squeezed in the palm of his hands. To fuck his dick in the middle of the soft mounds of flesh. “Hello!” You wave your hand in front of his face. Maybe this was a bad idea? “What? Oh right- sorry. Well you see I did some graffiti and let’s just say, they didn’t take too kindly to me “defacing public property” or whatever.” He brushes off, hands resting in his black jean pocket.

He was attractive, in a sort of endearingly punk sort of way. He was dressed in majority black, with pops of color from the various wristbands that he had on each wrist. Said wristbands drew attention to his hands, the few veins that ran along them and his surprisingly long fingers. What you wouldn’t give to feel them inside you. Curling up and finding that delicious spot inside you. “Hey, miss?” He snaps his fingers in front of your face, was this what he was like? It was quite… amusing.

You snap out of your reverie, an adorable pout making its way to your lips, “Don’t call me “miss”, makes me feel old.” You mutter, and Jungkook wants nothing more than to kiss your puckered lips. “Well, sorryyy,” he drags out the word as he looks down to read your nametag, “(Y/N), anyway, apparently my art is “illegal” so I kind of had to cut loose.” He clicks his tongue to emphasize his point. You size him up, “What type of graffiti?” You ask. He balks at you, it’s rare for him to find a girl interested in that kind of thing. “Huh?” “I’m pretty familiar with the scene around here, so what kind of work do you do? Tag? Blockbuster?” You prompt, and Jungkook feels himself falling for you already. 

“I- Freestyle. I freestyle, really.” He says, fumbling over his words. You run your eyes over his figure before you settle on his eyes. Cute. “You’ll have to show me your work sometime.” You tease, moving to tend to your flowers. Jungkook follows close behind, your scent of warm vanilla and lilies drawing him in. “Maybe.” He flirts back. “Say, how do you know so much about this kind of stuff anyway?” He asks, eyeing a bouquet of white roses that’d look very nice in your possession. You jolt your head to look at him, an incredulous look on your face, “What? I don’t look like I know that kind of thing?” You sass. Jungkook nearly chokes on his spit, “W-what? No! No, that’s not w-” He’s cut off by the sound of your melodic laugh, “I’m just kidding, chill out.” You say, pulling a small chuckle from him. “Ha-ha very funny.” He deadpans. You smile brightly up at him, your chubby cheeks lifting at the action. “To answer your question, Mister fugitive-” “You know if you want my name, you can just ask.” He winks. “Anyway, I’ve been in the street art scene for a while. I’m not really good at doing it, but I do have my favorite artists.” You shrug. 

Jungkook’s intrigued, eager to hear more. “Really?” Who’s your favorite?” He asks, and you’d be lying if his excitement wasn’t infectious. You giggle at his eagerness, “Well, there’s not much known about him and no one has seen him yet. According to a lot of people, he never signs his work.” “And I take it that you don’t agree.” He says. You shake your head, “There’s this group that thinks his signature is in his work and I agree. The most common letters seen in his work is JK. With the type of art he does, there’s no way that you don’t want your signature on something like that. But I also understand him not wanting to take away from the art. So why not try to find a way to sign it, while also making it part of the art?” You say, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. Jungkook feels himself nodding before he realizes, “That actually makes a lot of sense. I’ll have to see this guy’s work. I mean, if I’m going to be the top artist in your life.” He smirks. You feel your cheeks heat up, a smile unconsciously making its way to your face. “And what makes you think you’ll be my favorite?” You say, tapping a finger against your chin. Jungkook plucks one of the many white roses he was eyeing, extending it towards you. “I know so.”

— —

It didn’t take long for Jungkook to come by your flower shop regularly, always sure to buy and leave a flower with you each time he came. And it took even less time for you to start dating, the tension between the both of you too palpable to ignore.

It was an accident really. You had decided that you wanted to show your closest friend one of the most recent works of your favorite graffiti artist, practically dragging him to the mural. “Hurry uppp, slowpoke. I wanna show you my boyfriend’s work.” You suddenly feel Jungkook come to an abrupt halt. “Boyfriend? I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” He says, an adorable pout making its way to his plump, pink lips. 

So cute you just want to kiss it off.

“Not my real boyfriend, silly.” You giggle at the confused, almost puppy dog look he gives you. “He’s not my actual boyfriend, he’s my artist boyfriend. I wouldn’t actually date him.” You scoff playfully, turning around to guide him into the direction you were going.

When you both finally reach your favorite artist’s work and after a while of admiring it, you notice Jungkook shifting uncomfortably next to you. “Are you okay? We don’t have to stay.” You reassure him. You barely have time to register him grabbing your hand and practically dragging you away from the other street artists.

He pulls you into an alley, far from prying ears and eyes and before you get the chance to ask him what happened, he presses his lips firmly against yours. “I’m JK.” He says when he finally pulls away from you. Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, all types of questions on your tongue. “I had to come with you to make sure that it was me that you were talking about and now that I know I can’t keep that part of myself away from you. Especially since I’m your “artist boyfriend”.” He says, nervously gnawing on his lip ring.

How? When did he find the time? Could he kiss you like that again?

You hadn't even realized you asked the last question aloud until you hear the slight chuckle that you’ve come to fall in love with. “Sure, but are you gonna keep my secret for me?” He asks, that sinister smirk making its way to his lips. 

Before you know it you're nodding your head, eager to feel his soft lips against yours as he runs his hands along your soft body. Fuck he never gets tired of feeling you against him. The sharp contrast of hard to soft, the way you practically melt into him.

It’s just too fucking delectable to pass up.

The tension between you both builds, the kiss gradually heating up and becoming more intense as the seconds pass. You wrap your arms around his neck just as he lifts up one of your legs to wrap around him. You both groan at the glorious friction, his clothed cock grinding against your puffy pussy making slick pool in your already sticky panties. “Please,” You mewl against his lips, the chill of his lip ring feeling tantalizing against your lips. “Please what, pretty? You gotta tell me what you want.” He breathes against your lips, the smell of his mint gum and cologne pulling you in. You whine, threats of a tantrum rearing it’s head. “Kookie, please don’t tease.” Jungkook chuckles, before slightly pulling away from you.

You reach out for him, chubby arms holding onto him for dear life, “Kook, please. Fuck me. Touch me. I need something.” You groan against him as you practically dry hump him. Jungkook decides to take pity on you and all but rips the flimsy thong you’re wearing off of you. You barely had time to register before he was shoving the piece of cloth against his nose, your scent washing over his senses. 

He quickly pockets the piece of fabric. You’re on borrowed time, it’s only a matter of time before another couple comes along for their own salacious activities and as adventurous as Jungkook is, you’re his to look at. 

He just manages to tug down his zipper and pull his semi hard cock out, before he uses your slick to coat his cock, running his dick along your wet cunt. “Fuck me, Jungkook. Fill me up. Wanna be full.” You moan into his ear. The sound of your breathy voice in his ear does something to Jungkook and without warning, he slams himself inside you to the hilt. You groan at the intrusion, never truly having got used to his size as yet. “Fuck! Yes, baby. That’s it. Give me that pussy.” Jungkook groans into your neck. He’s sucking hickies and leaving small, wet kisses along your throat and the exposed skin on your chest. You moan at the feeling, reaching up to bring his lips to yours. 

He reaches one hand up to palm at one of your tits, squeezing and molding the flesh to fit his large hand. You whimper when you feel him squeeze your nipple under your dress, causing your pussy to squeeze around him involuntarily. You both moan into each other's mouths, your pussy clenching and unclenching around the thickness of his cock each time he punches the soft, gummy spot inside you. “Cum for me.” He grunts, cock throbbing as it aches to empty itself in your womb. “Soak my fucking dick, baby. Get me nice and wet, pretty. Cause I’m gonna fill you up. Stuff you to the fucking brim.” You cry out as your orgasm washes over you, your pussy squelching as you milk his orgasm for everything it’s worth. “Cum in me. Fill me up, baby. Wanna be so full it leaks out.” You moan into his mouth, eyes locked together. It doesn’t take long, a few more thrusts and he’s spilling into you, the warmth of his seed settling deep inside your stomach.

You both take a few seconds for your highs to come down and before long, you start to giggle. “Were you jealous, Kookie?” Jungkook pulls away slightly to pout at you, lips all pretty and kiss-swollen.

“Was not.”

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @cherries-c0la @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon @c0pkiller

[luveline]

Hiiii I’m new to ur page but such a huge fan of ur writing already, ur so talented. Could u maybe do one with Spencer where he thinks reader doesn’t fully understand how much he loves them so he goes on a rant about how deeply connected he feels to them, and how he pictures life with them etc??

Pls forgive me if this is a weird ask, I’m slightly new to fanfic culture lmao

thank you! ♡

"It's not a small thing," Spencer's saying. 

Honestly, you've been half catatonic against his side for an hour watching Ancient City reruns while he fact checks the conspiracy theorists —nothing feels big now besides the urge to nap on him. You already knew that the pyramid wasn't built by aliens, and Spencer has the facts to prove it. 

He's quite passionate about it, apparently. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you?" he asks. 

"Yeah," you mumble, digging your face further into his arm. Comfiest boyfriend ever. Spencer's arm tugs up and over your shoulders to hug you closer, your eyes shutting of their own accord at the increase in cosiness. "I do. Promise" 

"Good! Because I worry sometimes that you don't get it." 

"Of course I get it, angel," you say, wrapping your arm across his stomach. Exhausted, you lift yourself up to press a quick kiss to his chin before giving in to fatigue and squishing your face against his shoulder. "It's the Egyptians, we did this in middle school." 

He doesn't hear your mumbling, far too wrapped up in his rant. "Everyone says that nothing else compares, and you believe them, but you don't really get it until you're there. Until you're actually feeling it." 

"You've been to the pyramids?" you ask, more to yourself than him.

"Beauty's just one fraction of it, too. It's a nicely sized fraction, I promise, but when you compare it to everything else… there's just so much there. I feel it in my chest sometimes when I'm talking to you, it honestly makes me feel a little sick, but in a good way?" 

You hum appreciatively, murmuring, "It's a beautiful place. So much culture and history." 

"It's like we're connected, like we're magnets. It's a pull." Spencer rubs the place between your shoulders exactly the way you like. You'd fall asleep from his loving ministrations, but he's starting to sound super intense, almost too intense, a hair's width from stressed. 

You had no idea Spencer was this passionate about Egyptian landmarks. 

"That's nice, honey," you say, trying to mask your apprehension.

Spencer cups the back of your head, the scratch of his stubble catching your softer skin as he talks, "I think about you and me and it feels right. I picture our life together automatically, there's no other possibilities for me. I love you so much and I know you said you get it, but I don't think you do. It doesn't feel real to me how much I care about you." 

There's a subtle roughness to his voice as he hugs you. 

You weasel yourself backward in the circle of his arms to look him up at his pretty face, perplexed. "Are you talking about me?" 

"Yeah. Of course I am. Who else would I be talking about?" he asks, mirroring your frown. 

You glance at the TV. It's on mute. "I thought you were still talking about the pyramids, Spence," you say, turning back to him. "You were really talking about me?" 

"You'd hope," he says, twisting his finger into your shirt sleeve. Spencer laughs, a belly of a sound with shaking shoulders and bouncing curls. "Can you imagine if I felt that deeply about the pyramids? I mean, they're really interesting. They're still uncovering secret tunnels inside Giza with no clear openings or exits, believed to lead to hidden rooms." He squeezes your arm. "That would be a really cool place to vacation." 

You take a moment to stare at him. You don't really get it until you're there. Until you're actually feeling it. It's like we're connected, like we're magnets. It's a pull. Spencer's been penning a love letter to you for the last five minutes and you were too dozy to get it the first time.

You cup his face in both hands, your fingers perched against high cheekbones, threading into soft curls as you brush them from his face. "I love you that much, too," you say softly. 

"I know that. I was making sure that you knew it was mutual. I'd build pyramids for you." He pulls your hands from his face to hold. "You're way more tired than I thought." 

"'M not that tired," you lie, settling back into his chest. Your voice is imbued with a sickly, almost smug type of love. "You're just comfortable."

[thef1diary]

I absolutely love your writing!!!

Are you able to write something where reader is in a relationship with Max or Carlos or Lando. They sometimes playfight and yn usually wins. But one day the driver has to go somewhere else and uses his real strength to stop playing. And yn is shocked that he used to just pretend. Slightly angsty but mostly fluff.

Only if you can please :)

Playfight | M. Verstappen

warnings: slight angst, mainly fluffy

wc: 800+

masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

You and Max have always been close. Long before you started dating, you were best friends, partners in crime, and each other's confidants. Your days were filled with inside jokes, playful banter, and those moments of playfighting that always left you breathless with laughter. You loved the way Max engages in these little tussles, seemingly evenly matched, making it all the more thrilling.

Today was one of those days. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of your apartment, casting a warm, golden glow across the living room. Lounging on the couch, you and Max are scrolling through your phones and sharing random memes when the playful urge strikes you.

You nudge Max with your foot, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "Bet I can take you down in under a minute."

He looks up, eyebrows raised, and chuckles. "Oh, really? Is that a challenge?"

You nod, laughing as you leap off the couch and adopt a mock fighting stance. Max follows suit, rising to his feet with a grin that mirrors yours. He's always game for a little fun, no matter how ridiculous.

You start your usual routine of playful attacks, knowing exactly how to make him laugh and stumble. But today, Max seemed a little distracted, glancing at his watch every few seconds. You notice but choose to ignore it, too caught up in the moment to let it break your stride.

"Alright, alright, you win," he says, attempting to end the fight quickly.

But you're not ready to let him off the hook. "Oh no, you don't get off that easy!" you tease, lunging at him again.

"Seriously, schat, I've got—" he starts, but you cut him off with a lighthearted shove.

"Come on, baby, fight back!" you urge, laughing as you goad him into continuing.

He sighs, clearly reluctant. "I really don't have time for this right now," he says, but you're too lost in the moment to listen.

You push him again, harder this time, and his expression changes. Without warning, Max grabs your wrists, twists you around, and gently but firmly pins you face-first to the couch. The sudden display of strength leaves you stunned, your breath catching in your throat.

"There, I win," he mumbles into your ear, before releasing you as he noted the time on his watch.

You lie there for a moment, processing what just happened. Slowly, you push yourself up and turn to face him, your mind racing. "Max... what was that?" you ask, unable to mask the shock in your voice.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking slightly guilty. "I'm sorry. I really have to go. I didn't mean to—"

"You've always let me win, haven't you?" you interrupt, the realization hitting you hard.

Max sighs, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah," he admits softly. "I didn't want to ruin the fun."

You sit up fully, the playful mood evaporated, replaced by a mixture of surprise and a sting of hurt. "Why?"

He shrugs, avoiding your gaze. "I liked seeing you happy. It was never about winning or losing for me."

Your heart clenches, a lump forming in your throat as you process his words. "You've been holding back this whole time," you say, more to yourself than to him.

He nods, finally meeting your eyes. "I didn't want you to feel... I don't know, like you couldn't beat me. It was more important to me that you had fun."

You reach out, taking his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. "You're too sweet for your own good, you know that?"

He chuckles softly, squeezing your hand in return, but the tension between you remains. "I try, and I'm sorry for rushing off like this. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

You shook your head, preventing a smile from forming on your lips as you thought of an idea. "No, don't make it up to me, we'll just have to rematch."

He quirked up an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Are you sure you want to do that again?"

A grin breaks through despite your best efforts to remain serious. "Absolutely. But this time, let's make it more interesting. How about we use Nerf guns or water guns, you name it. Let's see who really comes out on top."

Max laughs, the sound easing the last of the tension between you. "Now that sounds like a challenge I can't refuse. But remember, you asked for it."

You nod, feeling a thrill of excitement. "It's on, baby. Next time, no holding back."

He presses a kiss to your forehead, still smiling as he heads for the door. "I'll be ready. Just don't be too disappointed when you lose."

With a smile, you settle back, imagining the thrill of the next fight. It won't just be about winning or losing—it will be about showing Max that you're ready to match his strength, playfulness, and love, shot for shot.

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @helenemandl6 @charlesleclercsonlywife @dreamingonbed @heylookwhoitis @67-angelofthelordme-67 @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @bokutos-babyowl

[chestersturniolo]

𝑨 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆

part two of “𝑼𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔“

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

••••••••••••••••

The day had been moving slowly as you and Matt went about your routine. The baby’s arrival was just around the corner, and everything felt like it was in a state of tense anticipation. The hospital bags had been packed for weeks, sitting by the door, a constant reminder that your lives were about to change forever.

Then, in the quiet of the afternoon, it happened. You felt a sudden, warm rush and a sharp tug low in your belly. Your breath caught as realization dawned—your water had broken. Panic crashed through you, mingling with a rush of adrenaline. You called out for Matt, your voice trembling with a mix of excitement and fear.

Matt came running into the room, his eyes wide as he saw the look on your face. 

“What’s wrong?! Are you okay?!” he asked, his voice laced with concern as he scanned you from head to toe.

“My water just broke!” you managed to say, your voice quivering.

 The reality of what was happening hit you both at the same time. This was it. The moment you had been preparing for, but now that it was here, it felt like everything was moving too fast.

“Okay, okay, deep breaths, sweetheart” Matt said, quickly moving closer to you, his hands instinctively going to your shoulders to ground you. 

His calm demeanor did little to mask the nervousness flickering in his eyes, but he held it together for you, trying to keep you both focused. 

“It’s okay baby everything is ready,just breathe”

You nodded, trying to follow his lead,mirroring the deep breaths he was taking, silently instructing you to copy him. Matt kissed your forehead, then quickly moved toward the door, grabbing the pre-packed hospital bags with slightly shaky hands. 

“Let’s get you to the hospital. Everything’s going to be just fine”

He spoke the words as much for himself as for you, his voice gentle yet firm, keeping the rising tide of his own emotions in check.

Time seemed to blur as Matt helped you into the car. He held your hand the entire drive, you squeezing it whenever a contraction hit. He continuously whispered reassurances that made you feel like, somehow, everything really would be okay.

~~~~

Hours later, after what felt like a lifetime of pain and pushing, it happened—the moment your world shifted forever. Your daughter had finally arrived. The hospital room was now filled with a peaceful silence, the faint sound of monitors beeping in the background. 

You were exhausted, emotionally and physically drained from hours of labor, but every second of it felt worth it as you stare at the little life huddled on your chest. 

After a little while of skin-on-skin, you turn to Matt, who had been sat at the bedside, admiring his family in awe. His expression a mixture of wonder and disbelief,

“i think she’s ready for her dad” you smile weakly

Matt’s eyes lit up as he moved closer, his hands trembling slightly. 

You carefully held her out towards Matt, as he leans forward and scoops her into his arms.

 As he held her for the first time, a wave of emotion washed over him. His eyes quickly filled with tears as he looked down at the tiny miracle nestled against him. 

“Oh my goodness-” he whispered, his voice cracking. “-she’s absolutely perfect”

He glanced up at you, his eyes glistening with tears, and you saw the depth of his love, not just for your daughter, but for you, for the family you had created together. 

“Thank you… thank you for her” he said, his voice choked with emotion, as if he couldn’t believe that this moment was real, that she was real. With a soft smile, and tears forming of your own, you reach out, touching his arm gently as you both looked down at your daughter.

“Hey sweet angel-“ Matt whispered , brushing his finger against her soft cheek.

She stirred in his arms slightly ,and he instinctively rocked her, his movements gentle and slow.

“i can’t believe you’re really here” he says as his tears roll down his cheeks.

“You’re perfect…I can’t wait to watch you grow- I’ll teach you everything I know… like how to ride a bike, and how to make the best pancakes” 

You and Matt both let out a soft chuckle through your sniffles.

You moved closer, wrapping your arms around both of them, feeling the warmth and love radiating from this moment. 

“ i promise to love and protect you and mommy forever”

   ••• 5 years later •••

“I’ll teach you everything I know… like how to ride a bike”

It was a summers evening, the sun was starting to set, but the warmth of the day still lingered in the air. 

You were watching Matt as he knelt beside your daughter’s bike, double-checking everything. She sat on the seat, her small feet resting on the pedals, helmet slightly crooked, eyes wide with anticipation.

For weeks, they had practiced together, the training wheels providing the stability she needed to learn the basics. But today, those training wheels were gone.

“Are you ready, kiddo?” Matt asked calmly ,with a hint of uncertainty.

She nodded, gripping the handlebars tightly. 

“I think so” she said, a determined look on her face.

Matt placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, before moving to hold onto the seat with both hands.

“Okay sweetheart, remember what we practiced. Keep your eyes forward, and don’t forget to pedal”

He started walking beside her, holding the seat firmly as she began to move. The bike wobbled slightly, but he kept her steady, guiding her as she picked up speed. You stood a few steps back, your heart racing as you watched them.

“Daddy, don’t let go!” she called out, her voice shaky as the bike wobbled again.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry” Matt assured her,

He jogged alongside her, holding tight as she pedaled faster.

But as they went on, she found her balance, the bike steadied, and Matt could feel her gaining control. His grip began to loosen.

“Alright, I’m going to let go now” he said, his voice laced with a hint of fear.

“Okay!” she replied, seemingly more confident 

Taking a deep breath, Matt released the seat. He slowed his pace, watching as she continued on her own. The bike wobbled briefly, but she quickly corrected, her face lighting up with pure joy as she rode forward, all by herself. 

“Look Daddy! I’m doing it! i’m doing it!” she shouted, her voice full of excitement.

“Wow sweetie you sure are! i’m so proud of you!” Matt called out , as he felt a lump forming in his throat.

He took a few steps back to where you were stood, snaking an arm round your waist. Both of your gazes fixed on your little girl. Giving eachother a knowing squeeze. Whilst a wave of pride washed over both of you, mixed with the bittersweet feeling of seeing her grow up.

As she reached the end of the block, she turned around, her face still beaming with a smile. 

As she stopped Matt jogged over, scooping her up into a big hug as she hopped off the bike.

“You did amazing sweetheart, i knew you could do it!”  he exclaims, picking her up and spinning in circles. 

As you watched Matt scoop her up and spin her around, your heart felt like it might burst. Her giggle, so pure and full of joy, filled the air and made everything else fade away.

Seeing them both so happy, your little girl in her dad’s arms, reminded you of how special these moments are. It was a simple, perfect snapshot of the love your family shares. The laughter, the pride, the way she clung to Matt as he spun her around—it all felt like a beautiful reminder that sometimes…unexpected beginnings aren’t so bad after all.

••••••••••••••••••••

A/N ; and that’s a wrap🥹 i was going to split this into x2 parts, but thought i’d just make it a longer one for you instead!

i loved loved lovedddd writing this, so i really hope you enjoyed reading!!

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

MASTERLIST

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[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt 16)

Masterpost

Sorry for the delay on this part! And there might be more to come, I thought of a new AU that's devouring my brain XD I'll still be working on this it's just going to be slightly slower.

-----------

Jason sat next to Danny, holding his limp hand as Bruce flew them back to the cave and landed gently. “Do we have a way to contact Frostbite?” Jason asked as they wheeled Danny into the Cave’s med bay.

“Yes, as long as Constantine isn’t too drunk,” Batman said dryly. 

“If he is, I'll sober him up real quick,” Jason responded just as dryly. Batman chuffed out a soft laugh before pulling out his Justice League communicator and called Constantine. 

After hearing Constantine was on his way, and grabbing a domino mask, Jason tuned out the conversation, returning to Danny’s side, taking his hand again. Jason jolted slightly when Danny’s fingers twitched and curled slightly around his own. 

“Danny?” He asked softly, leaning over his boyfriend.

Danny’s brow pinched just a little and then he opened his eye, squinting up at Jason. He held his breath as Danny blinked and looked around before letting out a soft groan and closed his eyes tightly for a moment. 

“Hey, how do you feel,” Jason asked softly as Bruce finished the call and hustled over to check Danny’s vitals. 

“Thirsty, like I was hit by a bus,” Danny croaked but there was a flicker of a smile around his mouth. “Where are we?”

“I’ll get you some water,” Jason said, squeezing Danny’s hand before hurrying to grab a water bottle. 

“You’re in the bat-cave, you passed out after the fight. We’ve gotten in contact with Frostbite, he should be here soon.” Batman told Danny, as soft as he ever was behind the mask. 

“I passed out huh?” Danny sighed, pushing himself up with a soft groan and accepted the bottle of water from Jason once he’d opened it for Danny. He drank deeply and sighed with relief. “Frostbite doesn’t need to come though, I almost always pass out after using my wail, and twice in one night? I must have conked out for a bit longer than usual, nothing to worry about really.” 

“We’d still feel better having you looked over,” Bruce said just as gently 

“Yep, and hey, while he’s here maybe he can look me over too. We talked about me having an appointment with him,” Jason pointed out. He knew that Danny would feel better if it wasn’t just for him.

As Jason sort of suspected he would, Danny paused, then sighed and nodded, laying back down on the gurney with a little groan. Fine,” He sighed softly, handing the bottle back to Jason who set it aside for Danny. “What happened to Vlad?” 

“He got away,” Bruce said with a sigh. “Spoiler, Blackbat, and Red Robin are still looking for him but so far without success.” Bruce said with a frustrated set to his jaw.

“I hope they’re being careful. I’m sorry, I should have guessed he would be tracking me. You’re not hurt, are you?” He asked, looking at Jason worriedly. 

“I’m completely fine. And they will be too, they’re tough and they have the tech you build for them,” Jason promised Danny with a reassuring little smile. 

“I hope so,” Danny groaned. “God Vlad is such a bastard.”

A green portal opened in the middle of the Bat-cave and a giant yeti like ghost came charging out with a very frazzled looking John Constantine on his heels. “Is the Great One alright?!” The yeti asked worriedly. 

“Ya Frostbite I’m fine,” Danny promised, sitting up again and giving him a little smile. “I just overused my powers again.” Danny didn’t seem surprised when Frostbite came charging over and scooped him up in a tight enough hug that it made Danny wheeze. Jason and Bruce got out of the way and gave Constantine a curious look, he gave them a helpless shrug. “But I still need to breathe,” He gasped and Frostbite quickly put him down again, apologizing all the while. 

“I’m glad you are alright! But it’s about time for a check up for you and the little ones anyway,” Frostbite said warmly before suddenly noticing Batman and Jason, he had been too sign mindedly focused on Danny previously. “Oh! Hello,” He greeted brightly. 

“Frostbite, this is my new guardian Batman, and my boyfriend Jason,” Danny said, using his civilian name since Jason wasn’t in costume. 

“Ah! Wonderful to meet you!” Frostbite said, offering his big hand for Bruce to shake, who accepted, and tried not to seem taken aback by just how enthusiastically Frostbite shook it. He nearly lifted Bruce off the ground! At least when Jason’s turn came he was prepared. “It’s good to know he’s finally away from the Fenton’s, they were terrible guardians. He and the little ones will be safe with you, yes?” There was a hint of a warning in his voice and the temperature dropped a few degrees.

“Yes, of course,” Batman said firmly. “I will do my best to protect them and provide a safe environment.”

Frostbite nodded and looked at Jason.

“I’ll do my best to make him happy,” Jason said a little lamely, but Frostbite seemed to accept it. 

“Excellent!” Frostbite said brightly again and turned back to Danny. 

“Once we’re done can you have a look at Jason?” Danny asked Frostbite. “He died too, and has had some trouble since coming back.”

“Of course, Great One. But we will be giving You a thorough check up first,” Frostbite insisted. Danny gave a resigned sigh and nodded.

Danny sat back down on the cot and let Frostbite examine him. Since neither objected to Bruce and Jason’s presence so they both stayed to watch, and support Danny if he needed it. Constantine wandered off, he wasn’t part of the family after all, this was none of his business. 

The check-up was… odd, it mostly consisted of Frostbite waving his hands around Danny, occasionally touching very deliberate places, while asking him questions about how he was feeling, physically and emotionally, and what had happened. He touched the center of Danny’s forehead, his chest, every time he did little waves of blue light went through Danny. The one over Danny’s stomach made him gasp softly and Frostbite frowned at him, Danny smiled back sheepishly. 

“Can you show me your core?” Frostbite asked, pulling back.

Danny nodded and reached into his own chest, something Jason would never get used to seeing, and drew out his core. Jason hadn’t seen it before, he thought it was absolutely beautiful, the most perfect sapphire he’d ever seen, glowing silver blue with an opalescent sheen, it looked like a miniature planet, like it might contain an entire world.

Batman had seen it before, and he knew that it looked significantly dimmer then it had been the first time Danny had showed it to him. That was… concerning. Frostbite seemed to think so too by the way he was frowning at Danny. He pulled out some sort of souped up magnifying glass from somewhere and started to examine Danny’s core, though he didn’t once touch it. 

“There are no cracks or chips, you simply overused your powers,” Frostbite said, putting away the magnifying glass and gesturing for Danny to put away his core. “I’m surprised honestly, for most leaving your Fraid and your haunt like you did would have caused far more damage. It’s testament to how well your current caretakers are looking after you that you’ve weathered the transition so well.

“I wouldn’t try to use your powers for about a week to let your ectoplasm regenerate. There’s significantly less here then there was in Amity Park, there’s still plenty to sustain you but you’ll need to ration it’s use a little bit to have enough for you and the little ones to develop properly.” Frostbite said with a definitive nod. 

“I will, if I can,” He promised, looking down. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to be attacked this time. What happens if I Do overuse my powers too much?” Danny asked, glancing up at his Doctor.

“Well-” Frostbite started and then stopped himself, looking down at Danny consideringly. “I’m not entirely sure. With a regular ghost the child would either take significantly longer to form properly, or the parent might even retreat into their own core and lose the baby. But you are still living, and the babies have flesh forms as well, yes?” Danny nodded and Frostbite tilted his head slightly. “It’s… possible that even if you deplete yourself you and the babies will be alright, your ghost form would retreat and you and the babies will be, for all intents and purposes, fully human for a time. But I would not test that! There are too many ways it could go wrong.”

“Oh I don’t want to test it,” Danny said with a wry smile and a shake of his head. “Like you said, it’s kind of amazing my core is in as good shape as it is with all the changes lately, and if it broke it would End me, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” Frostbite said ruefully, patting Danny’s shoulder sympathetically “But let's not focus on that! You and the babies are doing well! here , drink this,” He produced a little vile of a viscous glowing green liquid and patted Danny’s shoulder, which was apparently his queue to hop off the cot. He drank the liquid like a shot and handed the vile back to Frostbite who stowed it back in whatever liminal space he’d been pulling all of these things from. 

“Are you ready?” Danny asked Jason. Resting a hand on his arm. Oh right, Jason had almost forgot he was going to be getting a check-up too. 

“Ya, sure,” Jason agreed with a sharp nod. He was nervous, seeing Danny’s interactions with Frostbite had put some of it at ease but he was still a bit scared about what Frostbite would find. 

“Can I hold your hand?” Danny asked, knowing Jason needed it, but wouldn’t ask. Jason nodded again and went to sit on the cot like Danny had. Danny stayed next to him and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Alright! What seems to be the trouble?” Frostbite asked Jason, warm and sympathetic. 

“Well, I died a while ago. I came back and we don’t totally know why, I went through some shit, got dunked in stuff we call Lazarus Water, which heals the sick and kills the healthy, and occasionally resurrects people. And I’ve been having issues ever since. I can’t control my emotions well, I have violent outbursts and dissociative episodes, I do things without knowing I am, or remembering it sometimes?” Jason said, glancing at Danny who gave him an encouraging smile. “None of this happened before I died and came back, I really don’t think it’s trauma either. Danny confirmed there was something wrong.”

Frostbite hummed and looked back at Danny, who nodded. “I did, I mean, I don’t really know what I was looking at but it did feel… off,” He said with a helpless little shrug.

“Alright, I’ll have a look,” Frostbite agreed and gently rested a clawed finger against Jason’s forehead. Cols rushed down over him, not refreshing cool water like it had been with Danny but freezing cold. It made Jason gasp and tense but he refused to pull away. Slowly a frown formed on the ghost doctor's face and he tutted. Well that was a bad sign. 

“Frostbite,” Danny said, a warning tone in his voice.

“Ah! My apologies! It’s nothing as bad as what you might think! I haven’t seen something like this in a very long time. Granted I rarely have occasion to tend to mortals but…” He trailed off and pulled back, the feeling of ice against Jason’s skin vanished. “Your resurrection was botched. You are alive, but it’s not…” Frostbite seemed to think about the best way to explain this. 

“Your soul was never given the chance to enter your body properly. I would guess when you ‘came back’ it was as an undead rather than a truly living person. Then the Lazarus Water resurrected your body and bound your soul back to your body, the way that it had previously been, which was not entirely… inside your body. 

“You’re soul and your body are not quite one being. It’s like a bone that broke and was not set before healing properly, it created some… spiritual nerve damage.” He saw Jason’s look of confusion and sighed. “I’m sorry, this is hard to explain to the living.”

“So, that’s causing all my issues?” Jason asked hesitantly. 

“Yes and no, it also seems to have damaged your ability to process the lingering ectoplasm from your ghost, and the Lazarus Water, which seems to be a corrupted ectoplasm. I suspect those are causing the emotional outbursts,” He said. “I’d need a sample of Lazarus Water to confirm that.” 

“I can get you that,” Bruce rumbled. “So, how can we fix this?” He asked, always blunt and to the point. 

“It’s not that simple. How would you fix a bone that healed wrong?” Frostbite asked.

“In a lot of cases… you have to break it again,” Jason said with a wince. 

“Yes, now we will Not do that, killing and resurrecting you again with the hopes it would be correct this time is far too risky. I mean to say with how set your soul is in its current position this is going to be a very long process with an unclear prognosis. I suspect just spending time around the Great One will help,” Frostbite said, gesturing at Danny. “Infusions of uncorrupted ectoplasm will hopefully clear out the corrupted stuff and ease the emotional issues. It may also strengthen your soul which, as long as you are at peace inside yourself, will help it settle back into its proper place. 

“You should know that it is possible that if you are entirely at odds with yourself, strengthening your soul might have the opposite effect of allowing it to pull even further away from your body. Managing your support system and obsessions will be crucial to recovery. Phantom can help you with that as well, he has more experience,” Frostbite said gently. “It’s important to remember that most ailments of the soul have an emotional element to them, and not try to find fast and easy fixes that will make things worse in the long run.” 

“I understand,” Jason said numbly. He really had been hoping there would be some clear easy fix. 

Danny squeezed Jason’s hand and Jason looked at him and was greeted by a warm smile. “The important thing to remember is we know what’s wrong now, and that things can get better. You’re already on the right track reconnecting with family and being with me.”

Jason took a deep breath and nodded, Danny was right. This had been going on for years now, nothing had really changed just because he knew. It wasn’t like he was getting diagnosed with something terminal. “Right,” Jason agreed with a nod and took a deep breath, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders. “Right, thanks Frostbite.”

“It’s my pleasure! I’ll supply Phantom with the pure ectoplasm, he knows how to administer it well enough. I shall come check up on both of you again in a month’s time, but I should be going now!” Frostbite said, hugging Danny again tightly before wandering off, muttering about wondering where that magician got off to.

[daisies-daydreams]

Focus (König x F!Reader)

Pairing: König x F!Sergeant!Reader Category: Pure Smut (18+) Warnings: Swearing, Dom/sub, Inappropriate Work Relationships (König is your superior), Brat Taming, Unprotect P in V Sex (You Know the Drill), Vaginal Sex, Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Spanking, Bondage, Cockwarming, Orgasm Control, Edging, Praise Kink, Mirror Sex, Full Nelson Position, Creampie Word Count: 2.9k+

A/N: I tried looking for this fic while I was updating my masterlist, but I could only find it on my AO3. :( I’m not sure if it got lost in the abyss or if I forgot to post it on here as well. Side note: König’s real name is Felix in this fic.

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Your chest rose and fell along with the movements of your arms. Your muscles burned as you raised and lowered the barbell, but you needed something to get your mind off of what happened earlier. You glanced up as a large shadow overcast you.

“Care to explain why you were such a terrible shot during the marksmanship test today?” your commanding officer, Colonel König, asked in a gruff, low voice.

Speak of the devil.

His beefy arms were crossed against his chest as he glared down at you with his piercing, blue eyes. You puffed out a breath as you placed the barbell on the wrack. \ You could hear his lead boot thudding against the ground as he waited for your reply.

“I was a little…distracted today,” you said as you briefly glanced into his eyes. König huffed out a laugh as he shook his head.

“Distractions cost lives in the field, Sergeant,” he reprimanded. You bite your lip as you puffed your chest out, slowly rising up from lying down on the weightlifting bench.

“Well, if you have anything that would help me focus, I’d love to hear it,” you said as you took the weights off the barbell. You could feel his eyes boring into your back as you swayed your hips side to side while putting the weights away. The corners of your lips curled up a bit as a large hand rested on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly as the fabric of his mask brushed against your neck.

“I have a training regiment in mind. A very…special one that would help. Especially for a brat like you,” he husked into your ear. You licked your lips as you turned, your ass just barely grazing over his covered crotch.

“And how soon should I start this regiment, Colonel?” you whisper in a lithe tone. König’s eyes narrowed as he pushed his hardening cock against the plush of your behind.

“As soon as possible,” he murmured.

---

The door to König’s room slammed with so much force you thought the door would fall off its hinges. His posture was rigid as he turned back to you.

“Take off your clothes. Now,” he commanded sternly as he unbuckled his belt. Your fingers deftly worked to peel your shirt and workout tights off of your body. The colonel scoffed when you remained in your workout bra and panties. He stepped forward, his pants loosely hanging over his rugged hips. “It seems you have more than just an issue with focus, Hase,” he rubbed his palm against the leather belt as he stepped forward. You shifted your thighs together as he loomed over you, his rough hands pushing you onto the bed.

“Turn around and bend over for me like a good little soldier,” König rasped. You turned and stuck your ass out as you bent over, your breasts pushing against the comforter you’ve grown so familiar with over the past few months. You heard the belt squeak in his tightened grip before he snatched your wrists in his hands. You could feel your pussy get even wetter as he tied the belt around your hands, securing it with a firm nod. His fingers traced down your hands and over your back, goosebumps rising in the wake of his surprisingly gentle touch.

“I’ve seen you slacking off, Sergeant,” he began. You heard the soft sound of his boots thudding against the hardwood floor as he shuffled behind you. You tried to stifle a gasp as he roughly grabbed your asscheeks and kneaded them. “Are you really that desperate for my cock?” König scolded before laying a sharp slap across your bum. You bit your lip as the pain stung against your plush skin. The colonel behind you groaned as he spread your cheeks apart, no doubt gazing at the small wet patch in the crotch of your panties.

“Judging by how soaked you’re getting, my assumptions are correct,” he chuckled mockingly. You gasped as he suddenly pulled you onto his lap. He was still fully clothed, yet you could feel his prominent, growing erection beneath his rough pants.

“But you’re going to have to earn it-earn having my big, fat cock stuffing that tight little cunt of yours,” König husked as he smoothed his hand over the sore spot on your behind. You resisted the urge to wiggle in his hold as he raised his hand. “By being obedient,” he said before slapping your ass again, letting his palm linger and pressing into the raw handprint. You whined and nodded.

“Y-Yes Colonel,” you moaned. König grunted as he squeezed your ass.

“Good girl. Now, count how many spankings I give you. If you mess up, I’ll start all over again. Am I clear?” he huffed.

“Yes sir,” you said. König groaned as he rubbed his hand up and down the globes of your butt.

“Gut,” he rasped in his native tongue before slamming his palm against your ass [Good]. You arched your back as your toes instantly curled.

“One!” you cried out. Another crossed your other cheek in a matter of seconds. “Two!” you yelped as your body lurched forward. Heat spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes with each slap against your ass, your pussy soaking the soft fabric of your underwear. Soon your ass is left alone, raw and sore from all of the spankings. Your hands strain against your back as your superior pushes your panties to the side again, his fingers now sliding against your wet slit. You shiver and clench your fists as he chuckles.

“Sensitive, are we?” König mused as he spread your folds apart with his thick digits. A small noise leaves your throat when you hear the sound of fabric tearing. You whip your head around to see part of your panties held snugly in his fist.

“There are consequences for disobeying, Hase,” he tsked [bunny]. The expression on your face drew an amused twinkle in his eye. “You thought the spankings were your punishment?” König hummed as the pads of his fingers circled around the ring of your entrance. He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Nein-I’ll make sure it’s much more…effective,” he rumbled [No]. You whined when he drew long strokes up and down your slit, circling your swollen, sensitive clit every once in a while.

“O-Oh my God,” you squealed as he pinched your nub. You heard him chuckle behind you as his other hand massaged the back of your thigh.

“We’re going to do another exercise, hase,” your commander groaned [bunny]. Your lips parted as he slowly shoved two of his fingers into your entrance, letting them linger just inside the tight ring. “I want you to count every stroke of my fingers inside your pussy,” he husks, his hot breath fanning over your neck. You nod, your lip hurting from how hard you were biting it. You moaned loudly as he suddenly began to pump his fingers inside of you quickly.

“Uh, uhm-one two three four five six seven-” you tried to keep up with each stroke, your mind getting foggy with arousal.

“Speak louder!” he barked as he pressed his thumb down on your bundle of nerves.

“EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN-” you shouted, your voice dry and hoarse as he shoved his fingers deep inside your wet hole. Your voice stammered as you grew closer to your orgasm with each number, your muscles tightening as every fiber in your being screamed for release. And suddenly…it stopped. Your eyes shot open as you felt him yank his digits from your pussy. The colonel sighed as he stared down at the slick on his fingers.

“What a shame: you missed fifteen,” he mused. You gritted your teeth as your nostrils flared. König huffed before picking you up like a little kitten. He set you down on the bed as he stripped his clothes. You gaped at the sight of his throbbing erection as it sprang free from the confines of his boxers. König chuckled as he watched you wiggle against the mattress for any form of friction.

“Such an impatient little thing,” he clicked his tongue. You yelped when he picked you up again. He spread his legs wide open as he sat on the edge of the bed. You caught a glance of your naked form in the full-length mirror in front of you. König sighed as he slowly sank you down on his member. You winced as just the head breached your entrance, spreading you wide open for the rest of his shaft to sheath inside of your pussy. Both of you groaned as he bottomed out, his plush balls resting against your slick labia.

“Guess I’m going to have to teach you some patience, too,” he hummed as he let your legs drape over his own. Your brows furrowed in disappointment when he simply lets his cock rest inside of your gummy walls.

“K-König,” you mewled as you wiggled your ass against the divots of his abs. The giant man inhaled deeply as he squeezed your hips.

“Stay still, soldier,” he growled. You bit the inside of your cheek as he kept your hips from rolling. The pressure inside you was boiling and rising to the surface as he made you warm his massive member. The slight sting of the stretch faded though until you found your walls relaxing. They suddenly clench when you hear the soft hum of a vibrator. Before you have time to react, you feel the tip of the toy kiss against your clit. König smirked as he leaned his head down.

“You see that, Hase? See how much my thick cock bulges inside of you?” König husked into your ear [bunny]. You whimper as he pushes the vibrator deeper against your clit, your bundle of nerves puffy and throbbing from how much he’s been teasing you. You feel his other hand come up and grip your jaw, forcing you to look into the mirror. You shudder as you stare at the reflection of his girth stuffing your tight, dripping cunt.

“Answer me when I’m speaking to you, Sergeant,” your commanding officer rumbled as he squeezed your cheeks mockingly. You swallowed thickly, throat tight and mind clouded with an intoxicating pleasure.

“Y-Yes sir. I see it,” you breathed out. You whimpered when he pulled the vibrator away from your aching cunt. A high-pitched squeal escaped from your bitten lips as he laid a slap against the top of your pussy.

“Tell me exactly what you see, Sergeant (L/N),” the Austrian groaned as his hands rested on the top of your thighs, his long fingers drumming over your goose-bump ridden skin. Every stroke and dip of his digits sparked a fire that danced across every nerve in your body.

“I-I can see your cock inside of me,” you mewled. König hummed and traced his fingers against the inside of your thighs.

“What else?” he purred, his teeth raking down your pulse as his hands danced up your sides. You squeezed your legs over his muscular thighs. He groaned into your ear as he took your hard nipples between his calloused fingers.

“I-I see you playing with my tits,” you whined. You squealed when the Colonel pinched your nipples as he “tsked” you.

“Oh Sergeant, I know you can do better than that. You’re such a clever girl,” he whispered, voice husky and drenched with lust. “Tell me everything now-what you see, hear, smell…” You whined as he puckered his lips onto your neck, sucking on it harshly while his cock twitched inside of your gummy walls. “Feel,” he murmured.

“I-I’m spread wide open in front of a mirror,” you begin. König grunts as he trails a line of fresh hickeys down your sweat-covered skin. You take a deep breath. “My thighs are spread over yours, your p-plump balls resting just below the place where our sexes are snug,” you keen as he licks a bold stripe over the bruises, his fingers massaging your tender areola. “I can feel the head of your cock kiss my cervix like you want to breed me,” you continued. You moan when he suddenly bucks his hips upwards into your heat.

“Yes,” he groans as he shallowly thrusts into you. “Keep going,” he commands with a light slap to your upper thigh. You bite your lip as you gaze at the lewd scene in front of you.

“I-I can feel every vein of your thick cock drag against my plush walls-oh!” you moan as he tugs on your nipples again. The noise he makes is akin to a purr as he bucks up into your core, eliciting a solo of moans from your plump lips.

“That’s right. Good girl. Good fucking girl,” König growled, his hands now falling to your hips as he squeezes them roughly. Your head falls back against his shoulder before he pulls your face back up.

“Keep looking,” he hissed, voice wavering as his thrusts became faster. You panted and moaned, your voice reverberating across his bedroom walls. You tried to bounce on his cock to match the pace of his thrusts, but your thighs wouldn’t stop shaking. You gasped when you felt your colonel wrap his arms beneath your knees and lifted you up, only to slam you back down on his meaty rod.

“Mmm, such a pretty, tight cunt,” he moaned as his hips snapped up, eyes glued to the piece of glass in front of you. “And it’s all mein,” König snarled. Your head was reeling as he slammed his cock into you repeatedly. You flushed at the sight of your cream coating his long shaft, dripping down and lathering his twitching ballsac. You keened loudly as he bit into your shoulder.

“Say it, say you’re mine,” he groaned, voice commanding and hungry. You bit your lip as you tried to steady your mind.

“I-I’m yours…Felix,” you said with a shaky breath. The growl from his throat was damn near feral when his real name fell from your lips. You were rewarded with him speeding up his thrusts, his arms curling and tightening around your thighs.

“Du gerhöst mir...mir allein!” König roared as his cock plunged deep into your core [You are mine…and mine alone]. Your vision grew blurry as you watched the way your breasts bounced and jiggled. Your muscles were tightening into an inescapable knot as you sped towards your orgasm. “Look in the mirror when you cum around my cock, liebling,” he grunted. You blinked through the veil of tears that coated your eyes as your body stiffened.

“Yes, that’s it-let go for me,” your commander panted as he shoved his dick against your womb. You yelled as the cord inside of you snapped into a million tiny pieces, your body shaking with ecstasy. König’s thrusts grew more sloppy as your walls gripped at his shaft. His chest rumbled as you cried out, pure pleasure surging through your veins.

“Ahhh yes, feels so good when your warm cunt hugs my cock like this,” König praised as he kissed your neck. You moaned with each of his thrusts as the waves of your orgasm continued to rock through you.

“K-König,” you slurred in a high-pitched whine, his thrusts getting sloppier with each one. His balls tightened below you as his breathing became ragged.

“Gonna fill this pussy up, make it leak with my fucking cum,” he grunted with a strained voice. You shivered as pleasure rippled down your spine and straight into your core as your second orgasm crept up on you.

“Yes, oh Gott yes!” König roared as he suddenly snapped his hips forward [Oh God]. His arms clenched around your legs so tightly as his cock throbbed inside of your well-fucked cunt. “Yes…” he panted as he filled you to the brim with his warm, thick cum. You shook with ecstacy beneath him as you felt his seed start to dribble from between the seam where your sexes were joined.

“Such a good little soldier,” König muttered as he kissed your cheek. You turned your head so he could capture your lips in a proper kiss. You keened into his mouth as he lowered you into his lap. You sighed, letting his dick soften inside of your tight walls. Just as you went to pull yourself off of him, his hands instantly flew to your hips.

“Nein, I want my cock to stay inside of you for a little bit longer,” he whispered as he gently massaged the bruises over your hips [No]. You shivered as you felt some more cum leak onto the edge of the mattress as he kissed along your neck. You closed your eyes as your head fell back against his shoulder.

“I think you’ve learned your lesson…for now,” König purred softly as he gave one final peck to your temple. Your mind was now drifting further away as he gently slipped your back onto the mattress. Your throat tightened when he shoved his cum back inside of your tender hole with his two thick fingers.

“Now, listen carefully: you’re going to get dressed and cleaned up…and then you’re going to retake that test while my cum stays inside of that tight, little cunt of yours,” his lips danced over the shell of your ear. “Do you understand, Sergeant?” he asked. You shivered and nodded.

“Yes, sir,” you panted. König cracked a grin before gently patting your cheek.

“Gut kleiner Hase,” he murmured [good little bunny].

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Edit: Thank you so much @dangern00dl3 for correcting my German!

[chrissv4mp]

silly me to fall in love with you , CHRIS S.

summary: love is a scary, annoying thing // you're chris's first love, and he can't believe he's gotten so lucky.

pairing: chris sturniolo × fem!reader

warnings/topics: probably a little vulgar language, mainly fluff, pet names, etc.

a/n: this is probably really bad, so bear w me😖🙏 also this is super short so....💔💔💔

wc: 1.7k

"i've been loved before, but right now in this moment..

...i feel more and more like i was made for you."

the breeze was gentle, the fire in front of you masking the slight cold that passed by. chris's blue fresh love hoodie fitting a size bigger than your own.

chris couldn't help stare from behind you, a smile plastered on his face that he felt would never leave. he still can't believe that you're actually real.

if his past self saw him now, younger chris would definitely try to convince himself that he didn't want to want you.

a deep blush crept onto his face as he continued his walk back from the cabin, arms filled with a box of graham crackers, a bag of marshmallows, and some skewers.

he caught a glimpse of your soft smile as he moved to set the things down on the small metal table beside your two bodies.

"hey," you whispered as if you spoke any louder you would disturb the peaceful environment.

chris turned his body from facing the table to facing you, his neon orange shirt capturing your attention before his own gaze brought you back.

the smile from earlier was still there, and now he was sure it would never go away. he still couldn't believe that any of this was real life.

"hi." he muttered, his voice sweet and matching the volume of your own.

your hands cupped his face gently, scooting closer on the bench to lean down and peck his soft, pink lips.

his hands found their way to your waist, head going to rest on your shoulder as he hugged your body closer to his.

he wanted to stay in this moment forever, just the two of you out in the forest, alone and safe from any harmful comments on the internet or even in real life.

this was everything he wanted right now in this moment.

he dreamed of this moment, and he wasn't afraid to admit it. there were other things he dreamed of, too, but those could stay in his mind a little longer.

as his head came back up to face you, you finally noticed the dark spots under his eyes, "chris, have you been sleeping?"

the brunette shrugged, a dopey smile on his face, "i mean i haven't slept since sunday, but it's alright. i was calling you, and you know i love the sound of your voice."

a small frown washed over your face as you tilted your head, thumb caressing chris's cheeks affectionately.

"you need sleep, chris." you said, guilt clearly shown in your gaze.

he bit down on his lip, his hand moving to rest on yours that was on his cheek, "hey, don't give me that look, baby,"

"my sleepless nights are better with you than those nights could ever be alone." a small smile played on your face at his comment.

your lips found his again, this time entwining in a more passionate and loving way. you were convinced he would do anything for you.

"i love you." you whispered against his lips, and chris just sighed as he kissed you again.

you wouldn't call him out on it. he'd always tell you he has commitment issues, and that if you didn't want to be with him anymore, it would be fine.

chris pulled away first, eyes finding yours again as he ran his thumb over your thigh lovingly.

his lips parted to speak, but you quickly cut him off, "it's okay. you don't have to say sorry chris, it's alright. don't say anything until you're ready,"

"i'll wait for you. always." chris squeezed your thigh gently as his smile came back.

he nodded subtly, blue eyes staying on yours as he took in your presence.

chris knew you were the one. you had to be, or else all this time you two spent building this—whatever it was—would've been for nothing.

"thank you, y/n." his face flushed just at the sound of your name, and your smile widened.

you just hummed, eyes trailing away from his own as he went to hide in the crook of your neck again.

you sat cross-legged on your brother's bed, attention focused solely on the view of the neighborhood outside his window.

nolan sat on his gaming chair, legs resting on the edge of the mattress as his eyes flicked between you and the black sheets.

"you wanna talk?" you laughed at his unexpected question, causing his own laughter to fall from his lips.

after a few moments of soft laughs, you both settled down and set your gaze on one another. his question was genuine, so you answered.

you gave him a small nod before your lips parted, crossing your arms over your chest, "i haven't slept in a week or two,"

nolan hummed, encouraging you to continue. you knew he wouldn't ever spill your secrets, they would always stay behind his closed door.

a look of concern flashed over his face for just a moment before it faded to a more subtle look, knowing that you hated when people tried to push on the topic.

"and there's so many possible reasons why, i just don't know which one it is, nol." you sighed, head falling back against his headboard.

he fixed his position in the chair, sitting up straight, "well, list them."

you bit down on your lip, fingers picking at the small hairs on your arm, "work, homework, stress. love."

as soon as the word rolled off your tongue, nolan spoke, "ding, ding, ding! it's definitely love."

your eyebrow raised as you looked at him from across the bed, "and how do you know that?"

he huffed in an exaggerated manner, and you just rolled your eyes and laughed at his actions, "how do you not know that?"

"come on, you've been talking about chris for so fucking long, y/n." he says, crossing his legs over one another on the mattress.

he was right, you couldn't keep your mouth shut about the boy. but who could blame you? he was the best guy in the world, always giving you little gifts and sending you loving texts.

chris was sweet, his personality being one of his best qualities.

"i think i might have fallen in love...

...what am i to do?"

nick was leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed as he listened to his brothers question.

he shrugged "show the girl that you're in love with her."

chris groaned, stomping his feet on the hardwood floor like a child as he threw his head back, "you're not helping."

nick rolled his eyes, sighing before he spoke again, "chris, love is more than just a thing you say. love is friendship, family... fuck, even hate is a form of love, or at least an imitation of it."

"you don't have to tell her that you love her until you're ready, chris. but in the meantime, you could at least show her." nick explained, "open doors for her, give her compliments. do things with her that she enjoys, try to learn stuff you know she fucks with."

chris chuckled at his brothers use of words, moving to sit atop of the counter as his legs dangled off the edge.

"she likes to paint.." the brunette muttered, and nick snapped.

chris's head instantly went up to look at his older brother, "then take her to art lessons, make it a routine that you go together each week."

the sound of footsteps caught both brothers attention, heads turning in the direction of the noise. matt stepped from down the hall, stopping as he saw his brothers.

"what's this? what, are you doing some intervention?" matt asked, confusion clear on his face as he stood at the other end of the island.

chris laughed, looking over at nick who just cracked a smile.

"chris is having a small emotional crisis, and he's come to me for help." nick says, and matt takes a seat.

"is it because of y/n? kid, anyone that has seen the way she looks at you would say the same thing i'm about to say," matt laughs, "she's head over heels for you, and you're the exact same for her."

chris huffed, running a hand through his messy hair as his thoughts traveled elsewhere. he would definitely need a haircut soon.

"that's exactly what i have been saying, matt!" nick exclaims, "thank you."

matt nods, a smirk on his face as he stretches his arms above his head.

chris jumps off the counter, going to take a seat opposite of his older brother on the island.

"it may seem simple for you guys since you've never been in a relationship, but it's really not. you guys don't get it." chris whined, dragging his hands down his face.

matt and nick share a look before the younger speaks, "then go to someone who does."

nick hums in agreement, "yeah. maybe go to the person you're having these feelings for. she's had partners before, she's had experience with those feelings."

matt puts up a finger just as chris opens his mouth to speak, and chris groans as he continues to listen to the boy beside him.

"she'll listen to you, chris. you always tell us how understanding and caring she is of your emotions, i think she's the perfect person to go to." nick says softly, moving from his spot against the counter and walking behind chris.

the older boy puts a hand on his brothers shoulder, rubbing it in an effort to comfort chris.

chris just stays silent, mind swarming with all of his thoughts and the ones that his brothers just shared.

matt and nick watch over chris intently, staying silent to give him a moment to process.

"okay," the response finally leaves his lips, and even if it's just one word, nick and matt know that chris will listen to them.

he removes his hands from his face, looking at nick before his gaze moves to matt, "thank you guys."

they both nod, smiles forming on their faces.

"we love you," matt says, his gaze soft.

chris smiles, "i love you guys, too."

tags: @cindylcuwho @adirtylittleheart

[qwimchii]

this is not important at all but im so obsessed with cod that i told my mom the whole run down and lore of the series and the characters. so my mom and i do this thing where we'll basically do headcanons about them and my mom's particular headcanon about ghost is that when he has an s/o, he follows them around like a puppy. and i havent let that go since she said it. thank you mother.

now i just imagine scary dog privileges with simon. like, you're at the grocery store and a person just has to look at you wrong before he's giving them a downright bone chilling glare, satisfied when they scurry away. you're quick enough to notice the outlandish, terrified look on the stranger's face, their eyes darting between you and your boyfriend behind you before running away. turning around to give him a confused look, he just squeezes your waist.

don't worry 'bout it doll, he murmurs, a laugh somewhere deep in his throat as he moves past you to inspect a can of soup on the aisle shelf.

you always just quirk your brown at him, knowing he probably has a smug smirk under his surgical mask at how easily he can scare away any potential threats to you. though to you, they seemed more like victims.

you just sigh, moving over to rub your scary dog's broad back as you tip-toe to peer over his shoulder at the can of soup in his hand.

and then my mom also said that he also follows you around like a puppy because he feels like if you're out of sight, you might disappear :( you're so precious to him and so sweet that he feels like you're a dream :(

it's giving— he likes to take showers together and doesn't want to be separated for a second. not in a clingy way. just in a i always need you to be in my peripheral, kind of way. he admitted that in a late night shower with you once, his arms curled around your waist and his face nuzzled into your neck. where he belongs. body warm and flush to yours. it made showering ten times more difficult but you couldn't find it in you to complain.

also, when you're working at something in another room, getting real quiet and focused, it makes him nervous. nervous enough that he has to stand from where he was sitting on the living room couch to check that you're still in the same apartment/house. leans against the doorframe to watch you, so adorably focused in silence, not wanting to bother you or become overbearing. just stares at you to know that you're still there and commit the image of you to his memory. sometimes, you don't even notice him watching you. when you do, he gets a bit sheepish as you coax him over, letting him sit in your desk chair so you could sit on his lap as you worked.

you're like his recharge station. he'll hold you for a good ten minutes, eyes closed and listening to you work and your soft breaths in complete silence, before he's all good to go back to whatever he was doing again.

—nsfw below

but if you're needy enough, getting squirmy on his lap and unable to focus as he pinches at your pebbled nipples through your pajama shirt, he'll pull down the waistband of his sweatpants and tug on his cock, hardening real quick as you mewl softly for him. then, he'll push inside, your slick insides sucking in his cock inch by think inch. he'll hold your ass flush to his hips as he cockwarms you, shushing your low whines begging for him to move, telling you to be his good girl and just relax and keep working.

even though it feels impossible, you'll straighten up and follow his orders, whimpering when you feel the head of his cock grind deep inside you.

but when you really feel like being a brat, not listening to anything he's saying, he'll fold you over the desk and fuck you. sometimes slow, teasing rolls of his hips and other times brutal thrusts. his hips smack against your ass, simon practically drooling as he watched the flesh of your ass ripple with each thrust.

when that's over and done and your pliant and finally satiated as he leans you back into his lap, you're too sleepy and tired to keep working, so he'll carry you to bed and coax you into a nap, stroking at your hair and kissing your eyelids and cheeks.

as he watched you sleep, slow breaths on your lips, sometimes he'll pinch his own skin because are you even real? you're his sweet little fairy that he has to treasure and take care of :( your needs are so important to him :(

ps my mom has never seen a video of ghost before either. she's only seen pictures but she knows him so well??? shes psychic tbh or maybe i just talk about cod too much also these days weve been talking about soap at lot. she thinks that he'd be obsessed w cats like constantly needs one to pet in his lap and that is soooooooo like domestic and warm and now the imagine of him reading a book and petting a purring orange tabby i—

i did NOT mean to turn this into a whole ass post but m ovulating ok bye

@ivybeeloved and @babygirl-riley this isn't really a full cod ff but i tagged you guys anyways?? hope that's alright <3 💞

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Playful prompts for tadc cast playing hide and seek with hider reader?

Awe this is a cute idea! (not including Caine bc I see him as the one organizing this game).

.........

Pomni

During her first week inside the Digital Circus, she's slowly adapting to everything...although she refuses to give up on finding an exit.

But when Caine forced everybody to play some hide n' seek, with you being the hider, she really doesn't want any part of it.

However you convinced her to play along, whispering that if she found you first, you'll share what you remembered from your old life as a "prize".

Although initially annoyed you wouldn't just tell her, she becomes motivated searching high and low, opening doors, looking down barrels, etc.

When she finally finds you (courtesy of a glitching object), she's anxious to hear what you had to say-

Unfortunately Caine decides to pop in and put on a big celebration for Pomni winning the game...which goes on the whole damn day up until everybody goes to bed that night.

You seemingly forgot what you were gonna tell her, to which she gets upset and angry that you gave her false hope, sulking in her room.

But you slide a note under her door, explaining that you only recently remembered your real name.

Suddenly she realizes that maybe her memories weren't 100% gone.

If you could suddenly remember your name, then....surely she can, too!

Gangle

After Jax was mean to her during the last hide n' seek game, you try cheering her up by playing another one.

It didn't involve Caine or anybody else. Just you two.

She mopes about being a terrible seeker. But since you're her best friend (and you promised her a prize), she'll go along if it makes you happy.

You decide to hide in spots that she would 100% think to check, deliberately allowing her to win.

Since she's all ribbons, it's easy for her to slink around and squeeze into tight spaces.

After finding you three times, she gets suspicious that you're purposefully going easy on her-

But she stops her accusations as you finally present her prize:

It's a brand new comedy mask!! Except this one wasn't made of porcelain or ceramic, instead being unbreakable material (or at least material that's couldn't casually be broken by anyone, especially Jax).

Gangle sobs with happiness before putting the mask on, squealing over how perfectly it fits, and hugging you tightly.

Thanks to you, she can finally feel joyful again!

Zooble

They'd rather do anything else....

But since this little hide n' seek "adventure" was all Caine's idea, she has no choice but to go along with it.

Even so, she puts the least amount effort into the game.

When you're the hider and she's the seeker, they just pray to whatever god is in this world (besides Caine) that you aren't anywhere in the Gloink cavern.

She'd rather not get discombobulated again.

Sometimes, she'll throw parts of herself in the direction where she thinks you're hiding, hoping to startle you into giving away your location so this dumb game can finally end.

Lucky for you, you know their tricks and keep quiet.

She doesn't expect any prizes (unless it's a limb that makes her body not look like a hot mess).

If they find you, she'll be like "yay I win..now I'm going back to my room" and saunter off.

Kinger

Like Zooble, he'd much rather do something else.

But he goes along with Caine's game anyways after you enticed him into playing for a prize.

Whatever momentarily stops his sanity from spiraling, I guess.

He searches high and low, getting nervous when he can't find you anywhere in the places he'd 100% expect you to be.

Lowkey starts to wonder if something terrible actually happened to you--like if you were trapped and not even Caine could help you.

The last place he could think of was your room but.....he doesn't have your key.

At the same time, he knew you weren't a cheater. You wouldn't hide somewhere that nobody else (except Jax) could access!

In the end, he goes back to his fort to sulk, openly declaring that you've won the game.

As it turns out, you chose to hide in that same fort, and you jump out with a grin, feeling victorious.

Kinger just stares at you for a solid 10 seconds.....before he suddenly screams and asks why tf you were in there.

You feel bad for scaring him, so you reward him for at least trying: a jar with a caterpillar currently wrapped up in a chrysalis.

He LOVES it, but now he carries around the jar every second of the day, staring at it until the little bug hatches.

At least now he has a reason not to fall off the deep end just yet.

Jax

Hide n' seek is like child's play to him.

Somehow this cheeky bastard knows exactly where you're hiding no matter what, even if it's outside the tent (like at the lake or fair).

It's definitely tarnishing your reputation as the best "hider" out of all of the gang.

When you ask him how tf he knew, he just shrugs and says "you're too predictable, try a better spot next time".

Hiding in your room is definitely not an option, as he's stolen your key (and would point out that would be cheating if someone else was the seeker instead)--so there truly is no place to hide.

Like Zooble, he's not in it for some prize.

It is, however, quite rewarding seeing you get so frustrated when he effortlessly finds you.

And that's enough for him

If it's a game involving everyone, then he just straight-up mocks the others for not realizing the very obvious spot (or at least to him it was obvious) you were hiding in.

Ragatha

She's probably the most enthusiastic about Hide n' seek (like you have mentioned, it's a good distraction from the stresses of being stuck in this virtual world).

Is also a fair and honest player, never once peeking while she counts to 10.

Like Pomni, she does her best to find you first, searching places she knows you frequent--or mentioned liking in the past.

But you're definitely the best hider out of everyone, so it's a little challenging.

Still, she refuses to give up!

When she does successfully find you, you and Caine decided that she should get a prize for being such a great seeker.

It's her very own centipede-repellent spray bottle.

While it won't stop Jax from trying to sneak those little pests into her room, the mist will deter them from coming near her at all and help her conquer her fear.

She's forever grateful and sprays it around her bed every night before she sleeps.

Oh, and she'll definitely threaten Jax with it if he even mentioned centipedes around her.