#THE DILF EYEBROWS!!!

[aurinkomoukari]

[crustycrackhead]

Sketch vs Final

I just thought y’all would giggle at the difference lol, also he would have a hooked nose to me. And also more piercings (self-indulgent)

[sealrock]

I have a problem and it's called 'creating hot dads who love their partners and die tragic deaths'

[moooo0]

For you @iluminad00

[asciidot]

yknow..

[sexysilverstrider]

i do love and appreciate the creators make a whole story plot for this game

[salstray]

I am asking for any Ronin info you may have🤠 (also hope you’re having a good day!!) ✨

okay, okay, listen to me. listen.

So- Ronin?

He exists.

Thats kinda all I got. I know how he looks and how he acts and that he would be VERY easy to use as a werewolf and thats IT bestie.

He's an older man, somewhere in his 40s, with totally white hair (poor man went gray real early, but to be fair, one of his staples is that his life has Sucked and he's Very Stressed), dark eyes, and a handful of facial scars.

Since I said in the tags he's my OC answer to Ghost, he is built the way i figure Ghost would be built. Tall, beefy, big. Can and will snap you in half.

I also hope YOU are having a good day!! <3

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

Nearly all of the men I've come to like have had these characteristics: Tall, broad-shouldered, athletic/muscular, dark-haired, have a manly look but with a hint of boyishness, goodness and innocence, ranging from the type 2 and 4 skin tones, thick eyebrows and have blue, green or hazel eyes. They also happen to be chill and kind. I have a type 🤷🏽‍♀️😆

[2hightocare]

BIRTHDAY CHAOS!

Synopsis: It’s Jungkook’s birthday and obviously it couldn’t just be a small get together… according to everyone.

Genre: comedy, found family, established relationships.

Pairing: DILF!jungkook x fem!reader

Warnings: curse words, mentions of sex, alcohol consumption, family oriented, jungkook being sappy, just full on fluff, this is more bts centered than just jungkook and oc, cowboy jungkook YEEEHAW!

a/n: Tupac back! TUPAC BACK! hi im back… i haven’t been writing these pasts months like i used to— school has had me busy with so many papers that the idea of writing for anything outside school literally sends chills down my spine. BUT! i miss writing my very close imaginary family so enjoy🤍

…

"We're doing the absolute most," Jia sighs, slumping backward and releasing an untied balloon. It zooms across the floor, landing by your feet. "We're talking about the same person, right?" Eunbi asks from her position on the floor, colorful confetti spread out in front of her as she carefully glues a number onto the banner.

"Let’s not bully my man on his birthday," you playfully scold your best friend, giving her blonde hair a gentle tug.

Eunbi looks up at you with a pout. "Ow!" She scrunches her nose, sticking her tongue out before returning to decorating the banner on the ground.

"That ‘happy birthday’ looks crooked as fuck," Taehyung comments, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at the colorful banner beside the long-haired blonde. "Ari, permission to clock his shit right now," Eunbi says, looking up to Taehyung’s wife, who is perched on Namjoon’s shoulders, sticking balloons to the wall.

"Permission granted," Ari mumbles around the tape in her mouth. "But stay away from his face; we have an event coming up." Her voice is clearer as she uses the tape to secure a balloon.

"Honey, you did not just—what the actual fuck?" Taehyung gasps dramatically, quickly dodging Eunbi’s attempt to hit him with a pair of confetti poppers.

"Girl, next time, aim for his balls—" Aera begins but is interrupted by the front door slamming open, making everyone freeze in place.

The room goes deathly quiet before everyone exhales in relief as Lora, Jimin, Daeun, Yoongi, and Seokjin come rushing through the door.

"Y/n, I tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t listen," Yoongi says first, rushing to his wife on the floor. He drops a kiss on her cheek before looking up at you, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Don’t even! You helped us pick which one!" Jimin defends himself, placing a hand on his chest as if he’s been mortally wounded. Lora laughs out loud, bouncing with excitement.

"You look too happy for anyone's peace of mind," Hoseok observes, a small smile of amusement on his face.

You raise an eyebrow, confused, both hands on your hips as you wait for someone to start explaining. "Before you get mad..." Lora begins, only to be silenced by your raised hand.

"I’m already mad," you sigh, making everyone burst into laughter.

"Jungkook said he wanted one, so we got it for him," Daeun explains, clicking his tongue and biting her lower lip anxiously. She’s the newest addition to your group—she and Jimin started dating a few months ago. Despite her shy nature, Daeun clicked with everyone quickly, although her personality is much more calm than anyone else’s she fit in perfectly. Still no one could beat Jungkook’s and Eunbi’s track record when it came to the most extroverted of the bunch.

You raised an eyebrow in confusion, waiting for an explanation. At the same time, Seokjin nervously let out a small, low-pitched "giddy up," his voice cracked as he hesitated. He awkwardly mimed cracking a whip, glancing around with a sheepish grin, clearly embarrassed and already regretting it.

"You guys bought him a horse?" you gasp, eyes nearly popping out of your head as you watch everyone else's expressions mirror your shock. Silence fills the room, and it’s almost comedic when one of the balloons that Ari was blowing deflates. As everyone waits for your reaction, you hear the blonde on the ground whisper.

"Wait, he really wanted a horse? I thought he was joking! Babe—we should’ve gotten him the horse first as a thank you gift for giving me bubbles on my birthday," Eunbi whispers to her husband, who gives her a 'not now, baby' look.

Before you know it, you're pulling on Eunbi’s hair again. "The fuck are we going to do with a horse?" you sigh heavily, flailing your arms around.

One thing you learned from everyone is that they all go to great lengths for each other, no matter how ridiculous the idea or situation might be—and you fully participate in the chaos. But right now, the only thought in your mind is how you’re going to murder five people simultaneously.

"How did going for birthday hats end with you guys buying him a horse?" Joon asks, his face scrunched in confusion as Taehyung tries not to laugh while helping his wife off Namjoon’s shoulders.

"We didn’t buy one..." Jimin says, looking around nervously, waiting for someone to step in.

"We rented one!" Lora jumps in happily, clapping her hands. Her long, straight black hair bounces around her face as her deep dimples appear while she shoves her phone into your face.

"Isn’t it so cute? The person renting it out said his name is Rex, but I think he gives off more ‘Goody’ vibes." Lora shrugs happily, showing you multiple pictures of a huge, beautiful black horse.

"Can we talk about how big a horse shits," Seokjin mentions dramatically to the boys that stayed behind at the house. Your mind already making a mental note that the five responsible will be cleaning up after the horse in your backyard later.

"When is it getting here?" you sigh in defeat, making Lora clap excitedly.

"Aww, you didn’t crash out! Maturity looks so good on you, babes!" Eunbi cheers from the ground.

…

"I am not wearing this shit," Hoseok groans loudly, rolling his head back and stomping his feet like a child. "Why did I get the worst one out of everyone?" His hands flail dramatically as he explains, clearly annoyed that his t-shirt is, in his opinion, the most boring.

"You think yours is wack?" Eunbi side-eyes him, pointing at her own shirt. "I’m wearing a picture of Jungkook's face with the words, ‘Big dick is back in town.’" She reads it out loud before throwing her head back with an overly dramatic sigh.

"I low-key love mine," Jimin chimes in, striking multiple poses to show off his t-shirt, which reads, ‘I wish he was real,’ beneath a large photo of Jungkook giving a thumbs-up while wearing Iseul’s pink tutu.

"That’s because yours is cool! Mine is literally..." Hobi starts, sounding enthusiastic before suddenly clamming up, which causes Jia to burst out laughing beside him.

"Wait, now I wanna see it!" Eunbi’s face lights up, reaching for the shirt bunched up in Hoseok's hands.

"Stop! I love it!" Eunbi bursts into laughter as she reads the large text across the middle of his white shirt. "Show me!" Yoongi nudges his wife, poking her in the hip for her to move aside so he can see.

A grin spreads across his face as his eyes scan the words: ‘Sorry, princess, I only date DILFs who look like this,’ followed by a heart-shaped picture of Jungkook, shirtless, flexing his muscles with a pout on his lips. Yoongi can't hold back his laughter.

"I need to know who came up with these," Yoongi chuckles, dropping his head onto Eunbi’s shoulder, still shaking with amusement.

"I am not wearing this," Hoseok snaps, snatching the shirt back from Eunbi before crossing his arms in front of his chest, pouting like a sulking kid.

"Babe, you’re so cute," Jimin teases as he watches his girlfriend make her way to the small group, whistling as he gives his girlfriend, Daeun, a playful spin. She blushes, biting her lower lip as she reads aloud the words on her own shirt.

"‘Introverted but willing to discuss...’" Daeun pauses and points at the picture of Jungkook dramatically winking beneath the text.

"That one is so cute!" Jia claps happily beside Hoseok, who is still throwing a tantrum while Eunbi laughs and points at his pouty face.

You silently chuckle as you overhear their conversation shifting from shirts to whether they should have gotten a photo booth. You quickly announce that you’re going inside to get Iseul and yourself ready before heading into the house.

The laughter from the backyard fades as you close the sliding door behind you, having spent all morning decorating it. You take a moment to check the kitchen, living room, and walls, ensuring everything looks as you had planned before rushing upstairs to shower before Iseul wakes from her nap.

After showering, blow-drying, and straightening your hair, you start to hear small whines from Iseul as she begins to wake up. You poke your head out of the bathroom and into your and Jungkook’s room, finding Iseul sitting up in bed. Her hair is disheveled, and she’s rubbing her chubby hands over her eyes, surrounded by pillows creating a makeshift barrier.

“Hi, my love,” your voice soars to a higher pitch as you approach her. “How’d you sleep, baby?” You coo, brushing her small light curls away from her face, gently poking her cheeks before planting a kiss on them both.

“I slept good,” Iseul murmurs softly, finally opening her eyes. Her Bambi-like gaze looks up at you. “Is Daddy here yet? It’s his birfday.” Your four-year-old scans the room, only to pout in disappointment when she realizes it’s just you both in the room.

“He’s almost here, so we need to make you look pretty! Okay?” You poke her small side, making her giggle and nod enthusiastically. You wrap your arms around her, holding her tight as you lift her and carry her to her room. You carefully set her down on the bed before heading into her closet to find the outfit you had planned. You also grab a couple of alternative pants options just in case the original choice doesn’t work out.

“Okay, you have two options. Pick,” you say, emerging from the closet with two pairs of bottoms. “Skirt or jeans?” You wave the options as Iseul puts her index finger on her chin and furrows her eyebrows, deep in thought. “What are you wearing?” she asks carefully, making you smile. “A skirt,” you reply, watching her nod several times before pointing at the skirt in your left hand.

"I wanna wear a skirt too!” she exclaims with a beaming smile, her dimples—clearly inherited from her dad—showing prominently.

You nod in approval and quickly help her change and brush her teeth. You also brush her hair, letting it flow down her back.

“Okay, pose for me, princess,” you giggle as you watch your daughter smile and place her hands on her hips, striking a pose.

“Okay, now stand still and look down at your shoes for me.” You ask, as she hums and gazes at her Adidas shoes and white socks with ruffles, while you click away on your camera. “You’re so beautiful,” you coo, finally standing up and reaching for your daughter’s hand to guide her outside so you can finish your makeup and get dressed.

As you open the glass door to the backyard, she finally speaks. “I know, Daddy told me I’m the most beeyootiful girl ever.” She quips before stepping out, where Yejoon—who just got here, after being dropped off by his grandparents from his dad’s side—rushes toward her, and Eunbi and Taehyung quickly start showering her with compliments about her custom-made shirt as if it were a competition.

You laugh as you watch Eunbi’s smile falter when Iseul jumps into Taehyung’s arms first. You shout that you’ll be right back, earning several thumbs up from the group. As you rush back to your room, your phone rings in your back pocket. You quickly pluck it out and see a picture of you smiling at the camera with your husband’s bicep cradling your face, making you smile as you press the green button and click ‘speaker.’

“Baby,” Jungkook’s voice comes through as you place the phone down on the counter and start your makeup.

“Hi,” you reply, tucking your hair back out of your face.

“Hi, my obnoxiously gorgeous wife, I miss you,” Jungkook says, and you smile, hearing the warmth in his voice.

“Are my girls ready? I’m almost home,” he continues. You giggle and reply with a small “yes” as you blend concealer under your eyes.

You had told Jungkook the other night that instead of a party, you wanted to take him out to eat for his birthday, just the three of you. He agreed immediately, not knowing it was a complete lie. Knowing damn well the group chat you just have made the other day with everyone from the already standing “plan b survivors” group chat with the exclusion of Jungkook—obviously—was currently being spammed with multiple suggestions of whether getting a bouncy house was a good idea or not.

“Your mom sent me her GIF not too long ago; it’s the best one she’s sent to date,” Jungkook says, making you burst out laughing, knowing exactly which kind of GIF he means. Your mom has a habit of sending extravagant GIFs with blooming flowers and sparkles, with bold text that reads something completely different depending on the mood, situation or event.

“She edited me into the background this time. You know, the one where I’m flexing my muscles with those pink ribbons you tied on them,” he recounts, and you hum in agreement, knowing exactly what picture he’s talking about since you were the one who took and sent it to your mom.

“I love the way confetti pops the moment you click on it to play,” he chuckles, making you mirror his smile.

As he continues talking about how everyone wished him a happy birthday at the meeting he had to attend—scheduled long ago and unmissable—you listen as he changes topics to how he plans to start taking Iseul to swimming classes while you finish your makeup.

“Okay, baby, I’m around the corner. Can you put an outfit out for me so I can shower and change quickly?” Jungkook asks as you apply the last coat of mascara to your eyelashes.

Humming in agreement, you reply, “Okay, and I already did, baby,” as you twist the mascara cap shut and check yourself one last time in the mirror before grabbing your phone and heading to both your clothes laid out on the bed.

“I love you,” Jungkook says, as you return the sentiment before he disconnects.

You quickly change into your t-shirt, tying a rubber band at the back to create a crop top. You follow up by slipping into your denim mini skirt, not even taking a minute to check if it fits perfectly as you rush to find socks and matching shoes to match Iseul’s. The moment you’re dressed, you hurry downstairs, turning off every light as you make your way to the backyard, where everyone’s eyes turn to you.

“He’s coming, everyone hide!”

The position you were in was uncomfortable as hell, and no one seemed to be enjoying themselves. Iseul started to whine, complaining that her knees hurt from crouching behind the couch, which prompted Ye Joon to comment smugly that “she isn’t as strong as he is,” earning a loud “shhh” from Ari. The twins, Nari and Yeseol, were also not having it. Barely a year old, both blondes were already driving Eunbi and Yoongi crazy—you could hear Yoongi trying to calm down Nari from behind the kitchen counter, as she teetered on the verge of crying.

From your peripheral vision, you caught a glimpse of Aera and Namjoon making funny faces to distract Nari and keep her from crying. You also noticed Jiho texting on his phone, his brows furrowed in concentration. You tried not to laugh when Jia snatched his phone away, scolding him to “pay attention.”

Suddenly, your heart fluttered as you heard the front door open, followed by Jungkook’s familiar voice calling out.

“Baby, where are you?” he called, murmuring under his breath about how dark it was. He moved towards the light switch and flicked it on. Before he could react, everyone shouted, “Surprise!” as colorful confetti burst from poppers, flying everywhere and littering the floor.

“Oh, fuck!” he shrieked, clutching his chest in surprise.

“Happy birthday!” everyone yelled together, rushing forward to hug him. Iseul was the first to reach him, raising her short arms for her dad to pick her up. “Happy birfday, Daddy!” Iseul kissed his cheek as Jungkook smiled brightly, while Lora snapped multiple pictures with her camera. “Your shirt, princess,” your husband beamed, reading the words and poking her side, making her squirm. “You’re a hundred percent ‘Birthday boy favorite girl,’” Jungkook said, pressing a big kiss to her cheek, reading off her shirt.

“Happy birthday, my brother,” Taehyung and Jimin chimed in, launching themselves at Jungkook the moment he set his daughter down to greet everyone else. “Where’s my gift? I don’t think my wife would’ve let anyone in without a gift fee,” Jungkook joked, patting Jimin on the back.

“I was thinking about what to get you, and I realized you don’t need anything—you already have me. I even debated wrapping myself since I’m clearly the biggest gift in your life,” Taehyung said, making everyone burst into laughter. “Exactly what I thought too,” Jimin added, earning a side-eye from Taehyung.

“Just two dumb bitches telling each other ‘exactly!’” Eunbi mocked behind them, scooting in-between the boys to give Jungkook a hug.

“Hi, blondie,” your husband teases, poking your best friend’s side, before laughing at the words on her shirt. “Big dick back in town!” Jungkook guffawed, throwing his head back in laughter.

You watched with a huge smile plastered across your face as your husband finishes hugging everyone and complimenting their shirts. Once he had said his hellos, his eyes finally met yours. His grin widened, and he walked towards you. Feeling playful, you shifted all your weight to one leg and twirled your hair around your index finger, giving him an innocent look that made him burst out laughing.

“Hi,” Jungkook smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

“Hi,” you smile back, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. He gave you a quick wink before leaning down to kiss you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you melted into the kiss, his lips moving against yours in a slow, agonizing pace.

Smiling into the kiss, he finally pulled away as everyone started whistling in the background.

“There are kids here!” Namjoon shouted playfully, watching as Jungkook stuck his tongue out at him like a child.

“You take my breath away every damn time, baby,” Jungkook says, turning back to face you and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Mhm, really?” you tease, raising an eyebrow at him. He chuckles, his gaze drifting from your shoes back up to your eyes. “Yes, really,” he says, biting his lower lip.

“Okay, we get it. You guys are in love. Can we go eat now?” Jiho interrupted, looking up from his phone with a bored expression, clearly used to this level of PDA, since his own parents were just as bad.

Everyone laughed and agreed, while Jiho earned a light swat on the back of his head from his mom for “interrupting a moment.” Lora shook her head in mock disappointment, quickly passing her camera to Ari to place on the marble table before ushering everyone towards the backyard.

“Happy birthday again,” you whisper to your husband, stopping him before you could join the others who were waiting to show him the bouncy house and decorations.

“Thank you, baby,” he voices out, his voice soft and serious, making your heart clench. “Always,” you reply, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his lips again.

“I like your shirt,” Jungkook murmurs just for you, his voice low and teasing. You bite your lip, meeting his gaze.

“I mean, it’s true,” you shrug playfully, watching the slow smile spread across his face. His thumb and index finger toy with your belly ring that you’ve just put back in, and he tilts his head with a grin. “I’m hoping I got a shirt and it says ‘I heart milfs’ to match yours,” he jokes, his smile faltering when he notices the way your lips press together.

“What does it say?” he sighs, bracing for disappointment.

“‘Birthday boy,’” you reveal, trying not to laugh as his jaw drops in exaggerated shock.

“That’s not fair! I was expecting something wild like everyone else’s. How does Eunbi get ‘big dick back in town,’ and I get ‘birthday boy’?” He pouts, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Well, aren’t you the birthday boy?” you tease, placing your manicured hand over his, resting on your belly.

“I guess...” He blows out a dramatic sigh, making you giggle.

“I missed your belly piercing,” he says softly, tugging gently on the teardrop ring in your belly button.

“And I miss your lip piercing,” you reply, brushing a finger over his bottom lip. “Please put it back in. Hopefully, Iseul doesn’t tug on it like last time.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” he groans, shuddering at the memory. Remembering how his daughter yanked on his lip piercing with all the strength a one-year-old could muster.

“Thank you for everything,” he says, hooking his fingers through the belt loops of your skirt and pulling you into a tight embrace. “I appreciate everything you do and more. I know this whole thing was your idea. Thank you,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t make me cry,” you sniffle, feeling him press small kisses along your neck. Your hands rub soothing circles on his back, and you stay wrapped in each other’s arms for a minute, though it felt like only seconds. “I love you so much, baby,” he continues, squeezing your cheeks with both hands and forcing your lips into a pout before kissing them.

“I love you,” you reply, kissing his nose, making him chuckle.

“Is it bad that I want everyone to leave already so I can just spend time with you?” he whispers as you both walk towards the glass sliding door. “Lowkey yeah,” you chuckle, stopping at the door and looking up at him, only to find him already gazing at you.

“What?” you giggle, feeling shy under his intense stare.

“Nothing, just one more kiss, please. Count it as my early birthday gift,” he winks, leaning down to capture your lips again. You pull back with a laugh when you felt his tongue start to intrude. “Baby…” Jungkook whines, a goofy grin still on his face as he tugs you closer.

“Jeo—” you start, but he interrupts, kissing you again, this time swirling his tongue with yours. Your shoulders slump as his hands cradle your face, keeping you in place before separating with a small string of saliva connecting you.

“Sorry, it’s my birthday,” he whispers against your lips, before finally opening the sliding glass door and extending an arm to guide you outside. You roll your eyes playfully but let out a small yelp when you felt his hand smack your ass as you walked past him through the door.

“It’s my birthday,” he says with a cheeky grin, raising his hands in defense when you shot him a warning glare.

…

Everyone is drunk, and things spiral out of control quickly.

The moment Jungkook steps out of the house, freshly showered and changed into his matching t-shirt like everyone else, everything becomes a blur. After countless photos taken on Lora’s camera, you all eat, sing happy birthday, and Jungkook blows out his candles before cutting the cheesecake you made him the night before.

By ten at night, the kids are sent inside to sleep, and that’s when the chaos begins.

“You’re fucking lying!” Jungkook yells, eyes wide as Seokjin and a man lead a huge black horse through the backyard doors.

“Where’s my camera?!” Lora screams, looking around frantically.

“It’s inside!” Ari shouts back. Before you can react, a head of caramel curls dashes into your house.

"That thing is literally humongous," Namjoon mutters, running a hand over his face, his eyes slightly red from all the alcohol.

“You shouldn’t be talking,” Jimin retorts, eyeing Namjoon up and down, causing everyone to burst out laughing.

“You’re just mad you’re short,” Namjoon fires back, but you’ve already tuned them out, watching as Jungkook climbs onto the horse with the help of the owner.

“This is such a bad idea,” you screech, covering your eyes.

“Here!” Ari runs back out, handing Lora her camera. She immediately starts snapping photos of Jungkook, now balanced on the horse.

"Hold on tight, bro!" Yoongi yells as Jungkook wobbles before finding his balance as the horse starts walking.

"Baby, look at me!" Jungkook calls out, taking off his shirt, revealing his flexed muscles as he jokingly cracks an imaginary whip. Your heart skips a beat—stomach flips—half from how ridiculously handsome he looks and half from the fear that he might fall.

Lora, on the other hand, is in her element, snapping photos like her life depends on it.

“I wanna ride next!” Eunbi cheers, jumping up and down.

“I’ve never seen you this excited to ride me before,” Yoongi says nonchalantly, causing everyone to groan.

“Brother, eugh!” Hoseok fake gags, while Jungkook laughs from atop the horse. Eunbi’s face turns pink as she playfully pushes Yoongi, who apologizes profusely for his comment.

"Baby, can we keep it?" Jungkook asks, flashing you his signature doe eyes.

"Fuck no," you respond immediately, leaving no room for negotiation.

"You’ve only got an hour—make the most of it," you shrug, moving closer to the horse.

"An hour only?" Jungkook gasps, glancing at his friends as if they betrayed him. "Y/n didn’t want the horse, we had to compromise, lil bro," Yoongi says matter-of-factly, making Jungkook roll his eyes playfully.

"Come on, baby, let’s ride," Jungkook says, winking as he pats his lap, motioning for you to hop on, which earns a chorus of fake gags from your friends.

The hour passes in a whirlwind of laughter and screaming. Everyone takes turns riding the horse, which ends with Ari nearly face-planting, sending everyone into a panic—except for the owner, who looks like he’s ready to be done with all of you and head home.

"Shot! Shot! Shot!" the group chants as you down a shot of tequila, scrunching your face in disgust, earning more laughter. Jungkook rubs circles on your back as the cold liquor burns its way down your throat. "Fuck!" you exclaim, tapping your chest like it’ll help with the heartburn.

"You did so good, princess," Jungkook praises, tossing back his shot like it’s water, letting out an exaggerated "ah" as he sets the glass down.

It’s nearly two in the morning now. The horse is long gone, and everyone is utterly trashed. The guys, all shirtless, are slumped around the backyard, claiming it’s too hot—likely the alcohol talking.

"Five, six, five, six, seven, eight!" Eunbi shouts as the speaker blasts "Hot to Go," jumping onto a chair and belting out the lyrics.

"Here she goes," Taehyung sighs jokingly, watching Eunbi throw herself into the song.

"You’re her biggest opp," Aera comments with a smile as Jungkook joins Eunbi, copying her arm movements.

"Opp stands for opposite, right?" Taehyung asks, which sends everyone into another round of laughter.

"Opponent, dumbass," Jimin smacks him on the back of the head, snickering at Taehyung's widened eyes.

"Did you guys read the weight limit for the bouncy house?" you ask out of nowhere, standing up, suddenly eager to jump around.

"There’s a weight limit?" Daeun and Seokjin ask simultaneously, then look at each other. "Jinx!" they say in unison, making you laugh.

"Yeah, the person who rents them usually tells you," you explain, kicking off your shoes before climbing into the character-themed bouncy house. You barely stand up before everyone starts piling in.

"If anyone throws up, I’ll kill you—" Lora screeches as Taehyung accidentally shoves her, sending her face-first into the bouncy floor. "I’m so sorry!" he laughs, trying to help her up despite the bouncing of everyone.

"Guys, I think it might pop," Daeun warns, clinging to Jimin for balance. You try reaching for Jungkook but get launched across the bouncy house by the devil herself, Eunbi.

"Ah!” You scream, laughing as you tumble into Lora. The laughter doesn’t last long, though, as a loud pop echoes through the air. Everyone stills before panic sets in as the bouncy house deflates rapidly, and everyone scrambles to the small exit.

You all stand in stunned silence, staring at the flattened bouncy house sprawled across the grass. Despite knowing how much trouble you're in with the renter, you can’t help but laugh.

"Welp, happy birthday to me," Jungkook shrugs with a grin.

🐈‍⬛: @allie-is-a-panda @minghaosimp @nicolepvp8 @blaricee @parkinglot-nights @jmscaffeine @httpjeonlicious @jeonjungkooksbabamomma @army061313 @crazyovayou @thvvcut (idk why some don’t tag😔)

[aurinkomoukari]

Jim and Shawn in Tokyo 🤌🏼

📸 13kazuya13 on Instagram

[scoobysnakz]

Older

||* Maybe it's because he's safe and keeps you warm in times or need. Or maybe it's because he has those unruly salt and pepper hair and worry lines. Either way, you want him and maybe he wants you.

Maybe you don't know, or maybe you don't care. But he can smell you, the rush of dopamine when he turns his back and you can see his trapezius shining deliciously in his dimly lit room.

pt2

||* dilf!miguel, vaginal fingering, praise kink, eye contact, perv!miguel, college-age reader, lap sitting, slight hair pulling, one shot, Daddy issues, Dom/sub, smut written by a virgin, not proof read

You're young. And oblivious. So painfully oblivious.

At first, Miguel had just assumed it was a defence mechanism. Don’t give them a reaction and they’ll leave you alone. But the more you smile at the guys flirting with you, the more you lean into their non-platonic hugs, the more certain he becomes that you’re just unaware.

And- in all honesty- he's jealous. He doesn't want to feel the shame that weighs down on his shoulders each time your expression softens at his praise. He doesn't want to feel guilt for watching your hips sway as you walk away. He doesn't want to be like them but he craves the audacity to leer at you in broad daylight.

Maybe it's his morals or maybe it's because he's a coward.

Either way, you’re young and oblivious. And deep down, he loves it.

It's worse in HQ, these men are meant to have morals, good morals, and yet they treat you like a fuckdoll to the eyes.

Your perfect, untouched, college body just for them to perv at.

And Miguel hates it. He hates how he has to ignore your pretty eyes staring up at him as he talks, how he has to scold every Spiderman for being a pervert, and he hates how he's just as bad.

Maybe if you weren't so bubbly sweet he wouldn't have to spend each night palming himself to the thought of your perky body, every shower spurting his hot cum on the misty glass and every moment alone with his office with the doors locked and hand muffling his moans.

“Migs?” that nickname, that only you can use, that only you dared to think of.

He turns to face you, a lazy smile drawn across his painfully perfect lips. “Princessa?” And you immediately try to hide the blush that threatens to bloom on your cheeks.

You hold out your hands, a tray holding a ‘spidey spectacular’ on top. In reality, it's nothing spectacular- a beef burger with barbecue sauce, large fries and a medium drink.

“Got you some lunch,” you grin.

He hops down from his podium, cringing at how your body tenses at the loud thud. “Why?” his tone is harsh, cold, forced.

He knows why. You care, you check in on him when no one else does, you randomly ask him if he's drinking more water than coffee that day, if he actually went to sleep the night previous- unknowing to the thoughts of you that kept him up.

“You haven't eaten today,” you stick your arms out, a playful smile on your face and he doesn't ask how you know. You just do, “and you can't capture those nettlesome anomalies on an empty stomach!”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Nettlesome?”

You laugh, a soft one that makes his core ache with need. “My literature professor has permanently engrained fancy words into my brain.” your shocking professor. Probably some perv who keeps you behind to help you with your tests and oggles at your perfectly shaped ass when you bend over to pick up a pen.

And a painful reminder that as mature as you may be, you’re still young. 18 years too young.

He takes the burger from the tray, gaze lingering on the second as he tries to decide if it's for him or not.

“I’m eating with you,” you answer his question without him asking.

“No, princessa.”

You huff at him, soft, rounded lips falling into a pout. It's a habit you've made- bringing him lunch and sitting with him to make sure he's actually eating the food you've bought no matter how hard he protests.

“Fine. I won't eat with you, I'll just sit and stare and probably piss you off,” you smile smugly at him.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, turning away from you and throwing the paper from the burger in the bin.

You hum in response, not even caring for his grouchy attitude because it doesn't bother you. Because you're young, and you don't understand how men work yet.

He pulls himself up to his podium, glowing red webs dangling from the large metal disk where you soon follow.

Maybe you don't know, or maybe you don't care. But he can smell you, the rush of dopamine when he turns his back and you can see his trapezius shining deliciously in his dimly lit room.

You pull yourself close to him, hand resting just between his thigh and yours. So soft and delicate and he wants to ruin the innocence within them. Wants to see your dainty fingers wrapped around his cock, wants to see how you use those digits inside of yourself while- hopefully- thinking of him.

“How’s school?” he feels like an awkward uncle at an even more awkward Christmas party. Is this what it's come to? Him having to ask about your college life because that's your main focus because you’re young… er.

A small scoff escapes you, and you immediately cover up with a cough.

“I’m not seven,” you tease, hand held out to shove him but you immediately withdraw it which makes him frown.

“You look it.” it's your turn to frown.

You blink up at him, wondering if he knows how you crave these sweet moments between the two of you. You hate how dependent you've become on him, how you can't get through the day without thinking of him and using his health as an excuse to come see him.

“You’re an ass,” you fold your arms across your chest, nose scrunching in feigned irritation.

Miguel clicks his tongue at you, head cocking to the side in disapproval. “Language, princessa.”

You mutter a feeble “sorry”, a forced waver to your voice that makes him chuckle lightly.

You turn your head to face him, his dark, almost curls illuminated by the neon orange of his numerous monitors. His eyes meet yours, deep maroon paralysing you in place, peeking fangs slowing your breathing, chiselled features pinking your cheeks.

And you smile. A sickly sweet, beautifully innocent smile. Any other person would look away, grow red with shame, and maybe say something embarrassing. But you? You just smile.

Because you're painfully naive.

You blink up at him, wondering if he knows how you crave these sweet moments between the two of you. You hate how dependent you've become on him, how you can't get through the day without thinking of him and using his health as an excuse to come see him.

“Really?” you turn your head to face him, neck craned back so he gets a perfect view of your soft skin. “Do I look seven?”

Of course, you don't look seven. You look twenty, which you are. But you're mature and not in a creepy way. No one else would think twice about seeing if he's okay, and no adult would have their panties organised by colour like you do either.

The sound of his chewing eventually fills the bleak room. You can see him looking straight ahead through your peripheral.

“No.”

“A man of few words,” you grin.

“A girl of far too many.”

You aren't a girl. You’re a woman. You don't spend time chasing boys, you enjoy literature, and you have your whole life planned out. Kids don't do the things you do. Kids don't want a life with a decent man, with him.

“School’s boring,” you cut through the silence, voice soft, quiet, shy.

Relief washes over him like the first rainfall in the Sahara. He swallows- quickly, and brings his attention back to you- not that it ever really left you.

“It shouldn't be, you're smart, princessa, and if your professors are doing their job you should be engaged with their subjects,” he hates that he sounds so parental and demanding when he speaks to you but it's like a default setting. He expects the best from you because he knows you can achieve it.

You scoff and this time you don't bother hiding it at all. “Thanks,” you mutter dryly, “I’ll keep being smart and then school will be more exciting.”

He grimaces at your dull tone. He's used to your sparkly side, the smiles and the giggles and now you're acting your age, all attitude and sarcasm.

“That’s not what I meant,” he groans, his voice harsher than before.

“What did you mean then, Miguel?” you press on.

“I meant that you're smart enough to entertain yourself, unlike other people.”

And in its own strange way, his ‘complisult’ makes you smile. He sees who you are, that you aren't some immature child.

It feels nice not being viewed as a child for once. A slow, steady warmth travels through you. He's being nice to you, not a rare occurrence but uncommon enough to mean something.

Slowly, you edge your hand closer to his, fingers gently nudging against his own. You pause for a moment, knowing you’re pushing it and waiting for his reaction but when he doesn't pull away you give his hand a squeeze.

“Thanks,” your gentle voice making his cock harden beneath his suit, “in its own way, that was sweet.”

And you grin at him again. Soft lips beaming up at his plain expression as he tries not to think about how badly he needs some relief.

Against his better judgment, he squeezes your hand back. And the soft, nervous, almost squeak that escapes you makes it all worthwhile.

“It’s true. When I went to your universe,” not to jack off while you shower, “I saw your study notes. You work hard, princessa, and it's good, admirable,” hot.

All your life you be craved words so sweet. Someone to tell you that all those years of dedication to being the best and coming second is too, better than good. Someone to tell you that when they saw your study notes they didn't see you as dumb you have to revise but studious enough to want the best.

You don't even think twice about him being in your universe, just putting it down to an anomaly or another perfectly innocent reason.

He can smell it again, that dopamine rush. You pull yourself closer to him, taunting him unknowingly and let your head rest on his shoulder.

You do this often, allow yourself to lean against him, intertwine your fingers with his, plant endearing kisses to his stubbly cheeks when he helps you out. And you do it so secretly that it's almost sexual but the innocence you perform these acts with makes it feel painfully platonic.

All he can do is ride out this moment of pure torment. Cock stiff and thighs burning.

Deep down he knows he shouldn't be like this, savouring your innocence that he can so easily capture on cameras he can use later. You're so pure, sacred almost, that it feels wrong to even have his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Migs?” that nickname that only you get to use because if he gets to call you princessa its only fair.

Your hand slips off of his and moves to rest on his thigh. “Migs?” you say a little louder this time. He hums dully.

“Princessa?”

Sometimes you wonder if he knows how wet his voice makes you. The low rumble that passes through his chest, the silky smooth movements of his lips, the slight tinge of an accent that makes your cunt flutter.

You let your thumb travel over the ridges of his fingers, smooth over the peaks of his knuckles.

His hand is so big compared to yours, something that the two of you haven't ignored.

He wonders how the rest of you feels, past the tight lycra of your suit as it covers your wrists, against the fresh cotton of his bedsheets, flush against his chest.

The dull humming of the monitors accompanied by your heavy breathing and the subtle whirring of the random machinery warms up the silence between the two of you.

You shift yourself to face him, pretty lips pursed and brow furrowed.

Maybe it's because he's so safe right now. Or maybe it's because you failed your paper and his praise is all you need. But he looks painfully handsome.

Broad shoulders rising and falling with every breath. Soft lips parted in hunger. The sea of deep sepias and carmines that is his eyes.

Miguel has always been there for you. Well, maybe not always, but often enough. Your roommates being assholes? You can sleep at HQ. Suit ripped? He’ll make you a new one.

And in this moment, you can't see past that. He may be older, grey strands peppering his umber locks and worry lines framing his features, but that doesn't matter.

So you lean up close to him, faces inches apart. Just to smell him, just to see him, just to be near him, just to feel him.

He flinches at first, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. His gaze runs up and down your figure, trying to figure out what you're doing, your innocent expression leaving far too much up for interpretation.

For a moment the two of you just stare at each other, arousal burning white-hot in your core and bodies thrumming with desire.

A calloused hand moves to cup your cheek and pull you closer. Miguel lets out a low sigh, hot breath tickling your face and making your nose scrunch in a way that can only be described as perfect.

Your breathing slows and your heart hammers. He's so close, soft lips just within reach.

“Can I?” his voice is almost a croak, a desperate plea.

He can't tear his eyes away from your quivering lips. He wants to feel them against his own, taste you, have your mouth in his possession.

You don't get time to finish your feeble “please” before he's pressing his lips against yours.

It's soft at first, the two of you gradually warming to the sensation of each other. But when you let out a soft sigh something inside him switches. All morals and guilt go completely out the window and his senses are filled with you.

His tongue probes hungrily at your lips, seeking access to the warmth of your mouth and you happily agree. His hands slide down to your hips, fingertips pressing into the soft flesh crudely hidden beneath your suit.

“Need you,” you groan, hands gripping his chest with desperation. He silences you with another kiss, tongue immediately attacking yours, too impolite, too hard, too impatient to wait for your sanction.

He's blinded by lust, a desire that's been building up inside him for too long. His arm snakes to the small of your back, protruding talons catching on the material of your suit. He pulls you into his lap and you nearly gasp at the sensation of his erection brushing against your clothed cunt.

You lean back slightly so you can look at him, chest rising and falling with each pant. “Say something,” you pout, his mutism making your head swarm with confusion, “let me hear your voice.”

The neediness of your tone makes him smile, a boyish, cheeky one that makes your stomach flutter.

“What do you want me to say?” he questions, fingers tracing up and down the bridge of your spine.

“Just… talk me through it,” you pause, cunt fluttering and thighs tensing, “it’s my first time,” you admit quietly. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It's something you've never admitted, viewing virginity as a burden more than the blessing men do.

“Who said I'm gonna fuck you?”

Oh.

You purse your lips, your smile faltering and skin prickling with embarrassment as you fidget on his lap. His cock strains against his suit, hips threatening to buck up when you unintentionally grind against him.

You look down and a smirk forms on your face. You press the heel of your palm against his erection, eyes widening with arousal at the whine that escapes him. “This did.”

You swear that for a moment you can see a glint of red in his eyes, much darker, meaner, than his usual cool mahogany.

“Don't,” he grunts, hand gripping your wrist.

The excited grin on your face brings him back. He can't do this to you. He can't take your innocence, be the one to steal what makes you so pure. He's done things he's ashamed of, killed, lied, hated. He isn't deserving of the sweet bliss that’s you.

Your lips fall into a disappointed pout. Have you done something wrong? Maybe you’ve been too eager?

“I… I'm sorry?” you pose your apology as a question, unsure of what's actually going on. You’re inexperienced but this… this isn't normal.

“No, mierda, no, princesa,” and his hands back on your cheek, thumb tracing over the curve of your vermillion. “No digas lo siento.” your brow furrows in confusion but he doesn't elaborate.

He wants to ruin you, corrupt your pretty pussy with his hot cum and watch it seep out in think dribbles before he can stuff it back in with his fingers. But he can't.

That sweet innocence in your eyes, lashes fluttering with arousal from a simple kiss. He can't do this to you.

“Look at me,” he commands and on instinct, your eyes meet his.

“Good Girl,” he croons.

“I'm confused, Migs,” you push his hand off your cheek softly, head cocked to the side, “you’re confusing me.”

He brings a hand to your cunt and he cups it, the heel of his palm digging into your cunt. “Let me do this instead, hmm?” you nod in agreement, head too fuzzy with the strange mixture of arousal and bewilderment to even process the jolt of pleasure that shot down your spine.

The sound of ripping draws your attention down to your arousal-slick folds but he clicks his tongue. “Eyes on me, chica,” his tone is slightly harsher now but his eyes are still warm.

You don't know what he's doing. If he's coming or going. If he's teasing you or allowing this to go further.

“Mi-” he presses his index finger to your lips, not that he needed more than his intense gaze to silence you.

“You said this is your first time?” you nod again.

“No one else has touched you?” his fingers part the tear in your suit, your damp panties on show for him.

“No one.”

His thumb starts to slowly circle your cotton-clothed clit eliciting a soft gasp from you.

“Do you want me to touch you, princessa?”

Your fingers dig into the muscle of his thighs but he doesn't flinch. A sharp talon nips at your weeping bud and you nearly cry. It sends a jolt of pain fused with sickly sweet pleasure coursing through your veins. “Asked you a question didn't I?”

You nod your head again, not knowing how to answer.

“Use your words.”

Your cunt is dribbling its juices all down your thighs- and he can smell it. His mouth is practically drooling at the scent it your arousal. He's trying so hard not to rip your suit all the way and split you open with his cock. But you're gentle, soft, sweet, delicate. So he has to be as well.

Taking a shaky, deep breath, you nod your head again, “I want you to touch me, Miguel.”

“Muy bein, princessa,” his thumb slips under the waistband of your panties and comes to rest on your clit but he doesn't stimulate you. Just leaves it resting on the hardened nub.

You whine at the lack of friction, hips trying to grind against his hand but his free hand holds you down.

“Migs, please,” you know you sound pathetically needy but you don't care. The man you've been lusting after since he first recruited you has his hand in your pants.

“Then keep looking at me,” he instructs, “wanna see your pretty face. Can you do that for me?” he grins at the twitching in your cunt caused by his words. That's all the confirmation he needs.

His thumb begins its slow pattern around the hood of your clit while his other hand rests on your waist, keeping you planted firmly on his lap. And maybe so you can feel how big he is.

His hands are surprisingly gentle. You've seen him kill before, seen the plethora of blood he can draw from someone with one fell swoop. Yet he's always been so careful with you, right now being no exception. Maybe that's what’s drawn you to him, the idea of him viewing you as something so sacred that he can't bring himself to damage your fragile body.

The tedious speed he's using is purposefully slow. He wants to draw this out for as long as possible, keep you a squirming mess on his lap, your sweet nectar running down to his thighs. But you want more; you’re too shy to ask for it but you want it.

You press your lips to his again, tongue slipping into his mouth almost sloppily. He's taken aback at first by your sudden burst of confidence but he doesn't protest. The hand that was resting in your hip moves to the back of your head to press you deeper into the kiss.

You whine hungrily and he rewards you with a faster pace. Your thighs clench around him, not actually expecting your plan to work. Your eyes flutter for a moment but he grips your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him.

“Princessa, I'll stop,” his warning is heed enough.

Your mind’s a foggy blur of arousal and pure bliss. He keeps toying with your clit, slowing down when your gaze falters but speeding up and rewarding you if you've kept eye contact.

“Please, I'll be good, so good for you,” you mewl, craving his kind words of praise again.

“Will you? Will you let me see those pretty lips of yours smile so sweetly for me while I make you feel good?” you nod your head excessively, mumbled “yes I will”’s and “good for you”’s spilling from your lips.

The hot coil of pleasure tightens with each flick of his distal. More and more sweet moans spew from your loose hanging mouth which are just music to his ears. Your leaky hole clenches around nothingness but you're too shy to ask for more. Miguel’s thumb is good enough but what you really crave is that hard cock that's pushing up against your stomach.

Soft, sticky clicking sounds mellow in the warmth of the rooms atmosphere, arousal blending in smoothly along with the scent of your nearing climax. He can sense it, your hips stuttering and your nails digging into the meat of his chest. But he can't let you go just yet.

“Hold it for me,” its a command, not a request.

You bite your lower lip, eyes nearly watering as you try you hardest to hold back. Your poor cunt throne needily while it continues to pump hot juices all over his hand. “I-I don't know how,” you blubber, thighs trembling and hands twitching.

Your body runs white hot with pleasure while your mind teeters on the edge of climax.

“I know you can, be a good girl, princessa,” he pressed earnestly, two-toned lips falling into that signature smirk.

You let your head come to rest in the crook of his neck. He flinches at the warmth of your breath and grabs the back of your hair roughly. You whine at the sharp tug but don't protest further.

“Fuck did I tell you ‘bout looking away?” his voice is almost harsh but you don't care. Your whole body is tingling with so much euphoria, blood pumping hot with pleasure, that you don't even care about his talon catching on your clit.

You’re so close to cumming, to reaching that paradise he's dangling in front of you like a carrot on a stick. “Let me, I-i can't, Migs.”

He frowns.

Once you're done that's it. He has to let you go, push off his lap and keep you at arm's length. But he can't bring himself to do that, get rid of your warmth and tiny frame.

“Migs? Please, let me…” you cut yourself with a silent moan.

Your mouth falls slack, eyes widening for a moment before fluttering closed. Warmth washes over you, trickling down your spine like honey from a jar. And for a moment you think you've gone deaf because Miguel’s lips are moving but you can't figure out what he's saying.

Your arousal spills from your cunt and all the way down his hands in a warm, blanketing trinket of your pleasure.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment but lets you ride out your high with his thumb remaining on your pussy.

“Fuck,” you breathe, voice cracking in a way that only makes his cock harden.

“Mmmm, did my princessa enjoy herself?” you look up at him, eyes glazed over with lust.

Your orgasm took enough energy for you to be exhausted now. You can barely lift your head let alone reply to him. When you try to smile your eyes just roll back slightly, your lashes fluttering and your nose scrunching.

You’ve come before, plenty of times, but this feels different. This time it feels all warm and gooey like it's going to stick to you forever. Maybe it's because it's Miguel’s fingers instead of your own toying with your cunt or maybe it's because you got to hold onto him. Either way, you've just cum all over his hands and can't form a proper sentence now.

Miguel smiles down at you, revelling in your blissed-out expression. Knowing that he's drawn this pleasure from you makes his insides churn.

“Pretty Girl,” he coos, hand smoothing your spine, “so pretty for me, hmm? Cumming just from me playing with her pretty pussy.” as if to prove a point, he spreads your sticky folds open with his thumb two middle fingers, a soft gooey sound catching your attention.

“Wonder if your cunt is just as pretty?” be slides a harsh finger inside with a grunt, eliciting a sharp gasp from you, “want me to fuck your tight hole, princessa?”

And you nod. Too fucked out, too tired, too needy, too in love with him without either of you knowing it yet, to push him away.

[sincericida]

ANDREW GARFIELD

attends the National Theatre "Up Next" Gala, in London.

dude Dude..

DUDE!

The dilf-o-meter is broken.

[dark-fics-4-you]

Thinking about an younger reader calling Dark!Dilf Rafe old and that’s he needs some viagra 😭LOL

Imagining his reaction 🤬

Softcore

Dark!Dad’sBestFriend/DILF!Rafe x f!Reader

Warnings: noncon (rape), ignoring safe words, smut, large age gap (20-30 years), spanking, choking, unprotected sex, unwanted creampie, breeding kink, degradation, secret relationship, manipulation, daddy kink, Rafe uses ‘kid’ to refer to reader a couple times, Rafe wants to get reader pregnant against her will

A/N: In my mind Rafe is in his late 40s/early 50s in this and Reader is 19/early-mid 20s

⚠️CHECK ALL CONTENT WARNINGS BEFORE READING‼️⚠️

“Y’know, maybe I didn’t hear you correctly kid, would you mind repeating yourself?”

You could tell by the edge in his voice that you had succeeded in getting a reaction out of him, but the way his blue eyes darkened as he glared at you led you to swallow down your cockiness.

Your boyfriend’s tall frame crowded your vision as he approached the bed you were lounging on as he removed his boxers.

Glancing away didn’t help, as the older man’s large hand came to your chin, redirecting your attention back up to him as he towered above you. Still you found your eyes fixed on the spots where his dark blond hair had begun turning silver.

“What did you just say to me, Y/N?” He spoke slowly, as if you were child who was acting up.

Despite knowing that this was his way of giving you a chance to retract what you had just said, you huffed in annoyance, rolling your eyes at the man who was older than your own father, before repeating yourself with a small laugh, “I said, I’m getting you viagra for your birthday since you’re getting so old.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened in frustration, eyebrows furrowing together before suddenly moving the hand on your cheek to your throat, applying a light pressure that had your eyes widening in surprise.

“You think this is fucking funny?” Rafe growled before pinning you to the bed you were sitting on by your throat.

The back of your head hit the soft mattress, the force at which Rafe had grabbed you made your pink lingerie slip ride up, exposing your matching panties underneath and some of the soft skin of your tummy. He licked his lips as he watched your nipples harden beneath the thin material.

“Rafe-” you eeked in surprise, your hand reaching up to grab the one at your throat.

“Still think this is a joke?”

It took almost no effort for him to grab you again, climbing onto the bed as he manhandled you into laying across his lap face down.

“Rafe! Stop it! I’m sorry, okay?!” Your desperate pleas for him to release you went unfulfilled, and as you thrashed on his lap, trying to break free, you already knew what was coming next in return for your careless joke, and you couldn’t tell if the pit in your stomach came from excitement or fear.

“Nah, I don’t think I am gonna stop,” goosebumps erupted across your skin when you felt him pull the material of your slip up your back, exposing your round ass to him.

You shivered when he placed his hand flat on your ass, rubbing your skin and lightly groping the fat of your butt.

The blond drew his hand back and your tensed in anticipation before he spanked you hard. The extra sting from his rings made you whine and you bit your lip to keep from crying out.

“What do you say?” His expectant voice reminded you of your rules.

“… thank you, daddy,” you reluctantly forced through gritted teeth.

This second strike was harder this time, on the same place he had hit you last and you cried out louder this time.

“Mm- thank you, daddy. I’m sorry,” you added at the end, stupidly hoping that niceties could get your through this punishment faster.

He spanked you again, this time smacking the untouched cheek, and you moaned at the sharp pain.

“Y’really think sucking up to me now is gonna help you out, sweetheart?” He said mockingly, as if he was reading your mind.

You were slower to answer him, his words taking longer to register as your body tried to numb the pain.

“N-no. And thank you, daddy.” You didn’t want to forget to thank him again, he only ever gave you one warning.

Rafe was clearly enjoying toying with you, you could feel his stiff cock poking against your thigh, further proof no viagra was needed.

After 4 more spanks, your eyes were leaking tears, lip wobbling as you mumbled out appreciations each time he struck your now bright red ass.

“Rafe! Please, I said I’m sorry, okay?! It was-” you hiccuped through tears, “it was just a stupid joke.”

You swore you felt his dick throb against you at the sound of your pleading voice.

He ignored you, however, instead striking your ass three times quickly and rough enough that you almost screamed from the pain and shock.

“Red light! Rafe please,” you sobbed out the safe word that you and Rafe always used, but the sound of him chuckling darkly in response made your blood run cold.

Pain bloomed across your already sore ass again and you whimpered. You were crying heavily now, and you brought your own hand to your mouth to muffle your weeping when he spanked you again.

“Have you learned your fucking lesson?” His stern voice came from above and you nodded immediately.

“Yes daddy, please! I’m so sorry.” You cried desperately.

You winced when you sensed his hand nearing you again, but this time, his thumb slipped between your legs and traced over your barely clothed slit.

You squirmed in his lap as his lazily thumbed your clit over your panties, whining when he applied pressure.

“You’re so fucking pathetic, you know that, kid? Pretty sick of you to be so goddamn drenched for an ‘old man’ like me.” Rafe mocked you, and to your embarrassment, you could feel yourself growing wetter when he slid your panties to the side and slowly pushed his thick middle finger into your slick cunt.

A whimper escaped your lips when he curled his finger inside you, and your hips twitched as you tried to make more friction between the two of you.

“Shut up,” you moaned before he finally started thrusting the digit into you.

“Please, we both know you get off on the fact that your father has no clue his little princess is sleeping with his best friend.” You didn’t have to see him to know the triumphant, jeering smirk he had playing across his lips.

You also didn’t deny what he said, because you couldn’t. No matter how completely fucked up it was, you did find sneaking behind your parents’ back to see an older man to be thrilling in the sickest way possible.

Not to mention how hard you had came on the several occasions the two of you had gotten close to being discovered (every time, his hand had slapped over your mouth to stifle your moans, but he didn’t stop fucking you until he emptied himself into the condom, no matter how high the risk of being caught).

Part of you suspected he was so careless at times because he wanted the two of you to get caught, a thought that was so unbelievable at first that you completely dismissed it, but when two times became three, and then three times became an almost weekly occurrence, you found it hard to deny that he seemed to enjoy putting you in situations where you could be discovered.

You felt him pull his finger out of you before grabbing your waist and flipping you onto your back onto the bed, and you protested as he climbed over you, caging you beneath him with his big, veiny arms.

“How mad do ya think he’d be if I put a baby in you, huh, Y/N?” Your eyes widened as he looked down at you hungrily.

“Rafe-” you said warily, trying to sit up and get out from under him, but the older man easily grabbed your shoulder and pushed you back on the bed.

“I bet he’d kick you out of the house if you got knocked up.” Despite your kicking, his strong hands grabbed the straps of your panties, ripping them past your legs and tossing them behind him.

“But imagine how disappointed with you he’d be if he knew you let me do it,” Rafe chuckled, and more tears formed at your waterline as his words sunk in.

“Stop it, Rafe. I’m serious, this isn’t funny, it’s sick,” you couldn’t stop your voice from wavering as you looked up at him.

When one of his hands locked tight around your wrist, you whimpered, struggling against him to free yourself.

You froze when you felt the head of his thick cock rubbing against your slit, and Rafe’s grip on your wrist tightened as he started to push his tip inside of you.

“Stop fucking moving around, Y/N,” his gruff voice commanded.

Resisting did nothing to help you, and you were almost disgusted by how wet you felt as he forced himself deeper.

Taking all of Rafe’s cock was never a painless process for you, he was so thick it always felt like he was splitting you in half, even more-so now.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as he stretched you out slowly. Rafe groaned when his dick nudged your cervix, dropping his head to your neck and trailing sloppy kisses along the tender skin.

You moaned loudly, tensing at first when his lips found your throat, making the older man curse under his breath when you tightened around him.

“Shit, kid. You feel fucking amazing.” His breath tickled at your neck and you squirmed beneath him as you tried to adjust to the pressure between your legs.

Rafe’s free hand came to your throat, squeezing tight as he tilted his hips back and then slammed into you.

You whined, closing your eyes in surprise, pain outweighing the pleasure at first. His fingers twitched around your throat as he felt your walls grow slicker and he was able to fuck you faster.

Delirious waves of ecstasy clouded your mind, his thick cock stretched you out in a way that made your head spin.

Rafe’s grip on your throat tightened and you reached for his wrist, hoping that his hold on you would relent, but the older man just took it as a sign to rut into you harder.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, losing yourself in the rhythm of his pace, greedily grinding your hips to bring yourself closer to the edge.

When his free hand crept between your legs and his thumb began rubbing circles over your clit, you whined, opening your legs for him more so he could fuck you deeper and massage your clit easier.

“Daddy- I’m- fuck-” you mindlessly babbled between moans, already feeling your mind go blank with each snap of his hips.

“Yeah?” He groaned when he felt you pulse around him. “Gonna cum on this dick like daddy’s good girl?”

Alarm bells should have been sounding in your head, but in the moment, you cared too much about chasing pleasure rather than facing consequences to resist.

So you obeyed him.

You whimpered as you came undone, the wave of pleasure washing over you again and again as the blond pushed his cock into you relentlessly. Your body sagged against the bed, head lolling back as you rode out your orgasm.

Rafe could feel your walls pulsing and constricting around him, squeezing his cock so tight it almost hurt him.

He bit back a curse before reaching one of his strong arms behind your back, staying inside you the entire time as he pulled you up off the bed and onto his lap. Your legs fell to the side of his as he rutted into you from below.

The new position had your quaking thighs squeezing against him, and you wrapped an arm over his shoulder and around his back in an attempt to steady yourself. The change of angle made your head spin and you whimpered in pain as he split you open with his dick.

Rafe’s lips hungrily captured yours and your stomach flipped when he forced his tongue into your mouth, holding your head in place to kiss you deeper as he fucked you up and down on his cock.

When he broke the kiss, you both gasped for air, and you felt his grip on your waist tighten, “Fuck, kid. How’d I get so lucky?”

You couldn’t answer him, so lost in matching the movement of his hips that you couldn’t think about anything else.

His lips found your neck, nipping and kissing the tender skin to pull more moans from you.

“So perfect, sweetheart. M’ gonna fill you up,” he whispered into your throat between kisses.

At his words, you remembered why you had resisted in the first place, eyes widening as you squirmed in his lap. Rafe’s pace only increased as he locked his arm around your waist, pressing you against his bare chest and stopping you from pulling away as he pounded into you.

“Rafe- red light-!” you were cut off when his big hand covered your mouth, and you helplessly squealed against him.

“Shut the fuck up and take it, kid,” he snapped and you felt yourself unconsciously clench around him.

The older man drilled into you, stretching you out with each punishing thrust.

“Fuck- fuck!” He groaned, squeezing you against his chest as his hips stuttered and he came undone inside you.

You whined as you felt his hot seed flood your walls. Trying to get off of him proved fruitless when he held you in place and forced you to milk his cock of every drop.

The sticky feeling of his cum dripping down his cock deep inside of you was inescapable and you shuddered when he lightly bucked his hips to thrust himself up inside you again.

“Still think I need viagra, you fucking brat?”

[soupuurr]

𝑖𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 - matthew sturniolo

pairing. dilf!matt x sub!reader

genre. smut

⟶ content warnings. explicit content, age gap (reader is an adult), porn with plot, mentions of drugs, kitchen sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, manhandling, oral, fingering, creampie. MDNI

⟶ summary. you find yourself increasingly drawn to the father of the child you babysit. what happens when you accidentally wind up at his doorstep in the pouring rain?

your drenched figure meekly stood on the front porch of Mr. Sturniolo’s residence, teeth chattering as you tuck your hair behind your ears and attempt to unstick your shirt from your wet skin—you cursed at yourself for neglecting to bring the baby pink umbrella sitting by your closet. realizing you might succumb to hypothermia if you didn't find shelter soon, you had no choice but to bang your fist against the door for the second time. you waited for a few more seconds, glancing at the blaring white numbers on your phone screen; 7:38 p.m.

you considered giving up and heading back to your car until you heard footsteps shuffling on the other side, accompanied by the sound of the locks being undone. the door finally swung open and you stood face to face with the gorgeous brunet. the father of the child you nanny, to be exact. he gaped at you in shock, his blue eyes wide and pretty pink lips parted. the white sweater adorning his body was tucked neatly into a pair of pale blue jeans complemented by delicate pieces of jewelry peeking out at his neckline. although you did notice something strange about him, his eyes were bloodshot red. almost as if he’d been crying, or maybe... your head vaguely tilted in observation before you snapped out of your thoughts—quickly realizing that your clothes were dampened by the rain and pretty much see through once you caught his blue eyes lingering at your tits, practically eye-fucking you.

“oh my gosh sweetheart, what are you doing outside?” his voice, smooth as butter, made your heart skip a beat. sweetheart. he would call you that often. you would be lying if you said that you’ve never touched yourself at night—replaying the sound of his sweet voice and imagining his presence while you fuck yourself with your fingers, “be quiet, sweetheart. you don’t want people to hear”.

“i’m sorry Mr. Sturniolo, i recall that i would have to babysit aria today?” you smiled the best you could, still shivering from the droplets of rain that would pour down your body. the brunet frowned in front of you, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“honey, aria is staying with her mother today.” he cooed. you stood, processing his words before squeezing your eyes shut in frustration. fucking hell, how could you forget?

“here—come in, you must be so cold.” he ushered you inside, placing a warm palm on the small of your back. he swiftly shut the door behind you and the house fell silent, filled only with the muted sound of raindrops.

“god, you’re soaking wet.” he murmured softly, twirling the stubble on his jawline between his fingers. your stomach fluttered at his remark.

“and it’s matt, by the way.” he warmly smiled at you. your eyes met his in surprise,

“call me matt.”

“thank you matt.” you whimpered, your hands gently soothing the goosebumps on your arms. matt fell silent for a moment, an unreadable expression crossing his features.

“let’s get you cleaned up. you know where the shower is, yeah?” he said, clearing his throat as he walked towards the stairs—his back turned to you. matt’s soft footsteps echoed through the living room, and you couldn't find the words as you watched him disappear into a room.

you quietly made your way towards the enormous bathroom at the end of the hallway, you knew it like the back of your hand since it happened to be one of aria’s favorite places to hide. you rid yourself of your drenched clothes before stepping into the long awaited shower—sighing in blissful relief as the warm water washed over your body. this was the first time you were solely with matt, let alone naked in his shower.

you hated to admit that you were secretly anticipating him, hoping that he would come in and press your tits onto the glass shower door as he fucks you senseless—or maybe have you propped up on the sink while he selfishly flicks his tongue against your clit over and over again, covering his face in your slick. undeniably, you concluded that it was best if you left this house as quickly as possible. for yours and matt’s sake.

you step out of the shower with a towel wrapped snug against your body. your gaze swept the sparsely stocked bathroom, only to realize with dismay that you had forgotten to bring fresh clothes. hesitantly, you step across the floorboards—inching your way towards the bathroom door shortly before turning the metal handle. you prayed that matt would still be in his room so that you could sneakily find a random t-shirt to throw over your head. luck wasn’t on your side, though, as you didn’t make it two steps out of the bathroom before colliding with matt’s solid chest. a pile of clothes fell to the ground as his hand flew to your hips, the heat of his fingertips seeping through the thin towel.

“i-i’m so sorry, i was just bringing you clothes.” matt panicked—briskly removing his hands from your body. you felt so empty without his touch.

“it’s okay! and thank you. i’ll go change.” you bend over and pick up the clothes scattered on the floor, your tits on full display for matt’s greedy eyes. matt stood immobile—pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose and cursing underneath his breath once you ultimately shut the bathroom door behind you.

matt was fucking annoyed, annoyed at your goddamn innocence. after interrupting him while he was high in his room—in the middle of pumping his fist over his cock, he opens the door to find you like that. your transparent clothes leaving nothing to his imagination. hell, he even saw your pretty nipples perk against your low-cut shirt, the lace along the top deliciously resting on the swell of your tits.

he couldn’t help but escape to his room after sending you off to shower, slotting his bottom lip between his teeth and rubbing himself through his pants. he’d memorize all of the curves and divots along your body—envisioning the warmth of your skin underneath his fingertips. matt had known about your twisted fantasies about him, but he also knew that it was so wrong. you were his kid’s babysitter for fucks sake. he always felt so guilty for getting hard any time you would come over in those cute little miniskirts that he could just flip up and fuck you in. he’d imagine how the thin fabric would bounce against your ass with every thrust and fuck. after having your tits pressed up against his chest, he’d almost pinned you to the wall and fucked you right there. he needed to kick you out immediately.

“matt?” you call out from inside the bathroom, biting your nails nervously as you contemplate whether or not to leave the confines of the room. you hear a muffled hum from the other side of the door. he’s still there. you think for a moment, deciding to be bold and strip off the pajama pants. your feet seemed to act independently, driven by an impulse you couldn't resist. the door swung wide before your mind could catch up with your actions, and matt swore he almost creamed himself. you stood in front of him wearing nothing but a flimsy t-shirt. his t-shirt.

“the pants didn’t fit.” you lied and held up the plaid article of clothing—sauntering towards him and observing his changed expression, he looked pissed.

oh no. did you go too far?

“i’m sorry, you need to leave.” you could feel the uncomfortable chill of matt’s cold demeanor as his pierced gaze fell to the floor.

shit. you went too far.

“i’m so sorry, i shouldn’t have done anything. i’m sorry if i made it weird-“ you stumbled over your words, how could you have fucked up this bad? matt swiftly brushed his hands against your own—curling his fingertips over your wrists and holding them still.

“i need you to leave because if you stay here any longer, i don’t think i’ll be able to resist fucking you.” your mouth went dry, taken aback by his confession. his grip stayed tight on your wrist, the sweet scent of his cologne tempting you to just finally kiss him.

“what?” you whispered, fingers nervously toying with the hem of your t-shirt. matt sighed and looked away from you. he was embarrassed, trying to ignore your probing gaze.

“matt, look at me," you softly instructed, gently grasping his jaw to turn his face towards yours. his frosty blue eyes met your own, cheeks and nose tinged with pink. he licked his lips nervously, the stubble on his chin brushing against your palm. “kiss me.” you whisper, warm breaths teasing each other, drawing you infinitely closer like an intoxicating drug.

his mouth hesitantly chased yours until you brushed your fingers through his hair and pulled him towards you, finally connecting your lips. his touch was gentle, almost like he wanted to be careful with you. yet, you wanted to breathe him in—lustfully addicted to the taste of his lips. his palms laid flat against the curvature of your back whilst your hands grabbed at his collar, pulling him flush against you—the throbbing between your legs did anything but lesson with the close proximity.

matt had never before tasted something sweeter; your saccharine lips fit so perfectly against his—he was convinced that they were made for him to kiss and caress. his cock stirred in his pants for he could only wonder how divine your cunt would taste on his tongue. matt needed it all. he trailed his fingers up your front, pinning the fabric of his shirt over your tits. his fingertips dance across your skin as he detached his lips from yours.

“you have no idea what you do to me.”

matt couldn’t count how many times he had fisted his cock to the thought of you, sprawled out on his bed with beads of sweat dripping down his temple. he would think about your tits, how you would squeak cutely when he would pinch your nipples between his fingers. he would think about your pretty pink lips over his cock—you’d be sitting obediently with teary eyes while he’d push a vibrator against your clit. you’d make him coat his abdomen in so much cum every fucking night. it was torture.

matt brings his hungry lips to your perked nipples. you sighed as his warm mouth engulfed you, digging his dull nails into your hips as he ground his own against you. your tits were just like how matt imagined they would be, round and full. although matt wouldn’t lie and say that he’d never caught a glimpse before—he couldn’t help but stare fixedly at your tits every time your nipples would seep through your shirt, catching a hard on embarrassingly fast.

matt swirls your nipple in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth and releasing it—eventually pressing you against the kitchen wall as your hands scramble for his belt buckle. he hisses when your hand finally makes contact with his cock, relishing in the way your palm would rub against him.

“need to taste you.” he pants feverishly, his hands claw at your hips—thumbs dipping past the hem of your shirt.

“will you get on the counter f’me?” you nod and grab his shoulders as he gently places you on the cold, marble countertop. matt inserts himself between your legs, his belt undone and his barely clothed cock dangerously close to your cunt. he leaves an open mouthed kiss down your neck, dragging his bottom lip against your skin before placing a gentle kiss behind your ear. he hooked his fingers onto your knees, pushing them apart gently.

finally, matt kneeled down, eye level with your pussy. he looked at your dripping cunt with wonder, blowing cool air onto your clit and studying the way you squirmed against the marble. matt held your eyes as he placed a tender kiss to your pussy—tonguing gently at your clit once he felt a little braver.

“matt, stop teasing-“ the words die on your tongue and you gasp for air, fingers pulling at his brunet locks as he prods his fingers at your enterance. your cunt sucked him in with ease—his long fingers fucking deep into your pussy. matt wrapped his lips around your clit and cockily smirked against you. your hand swiftly gripped the edge of the counter until he placed his hand over yours—gently intertwining your fingers while you arch your back in pleasure.

matt leaves one final kiss to your folds before leaning back and forcing your knee down with his left hand. he was locked in a trance, watching the way your pussy would gush every time his fingers would pump inside of you. his fingers rapidly disappeared past your folds as you cried out. your hands frailly clawed at his wrist, only to be swatted away while he kept his pace—eyes trained on your precious cunt.

“i’m gonna cum!” you gasp out, scratching the surface of the countertop as you saw stars. matt fingered you through your orgasm, curling his fingers deliciously. he pulled his fingers from your cunt and stood to his full height—licking them clean.

“can i fuck you?” matt inquired, searching your eyes for an ounce of hesitance. you nodded, placing your hand at the nape of his neck.

“i need words, sweetheart.” he traced soothing patterns on your hips,

“yes matt, fill me up with your cum.”

that’s all he needed as he greedily flipped you over—bending you against the cold surface. he hooked his fingers under your knee and pinned it to the table.

matt felt as if he’d been waiting his whole life for this, your body melted into his every touch—he wanted this moment to be engraved into his brain.

matt spit on your pussy, licking his teeth in satisfaction as he watched it drip down your folds. he grabbed your hip with one hand, pushing it down against the countertop. the other hand gently stroked his sensitive cock—to say he was rock hard was an understatement. beads of pre-cum dribbled down his tip as he rubbed his cock against your folds. your slick combined with his spit allowed him to glide his dick along your pussy so easily. with one final brush along your pussy, he pressed his hips flush against you, cock buried to the hilt.

matt lazily tilted his head to the side, looking at you with hooded eyes—he draws his hips back before snapping them forward, balls striking your clit in just the right way. he repeats the motion, this time his grip on your hip tightens as he pulls you against him—his other hand snaking its way to your shoulder. you silently gasp as your pussy clenches around his cock. every single one of his thrusts were full, making sure that you felt every ridge and vein along his cock.

your ass jiggled with each powerful thrust of his hips, and matt observed how your pretty pussy started to spasm around him—he trailed his eyes up your figure, watching you fall apart under his touch. matt bent over you, the soft muscles of his abdomen taut against your back. he caught your lips with his own, moaning into your mouth before finally stilling against you—his warm cum filling you to the brim.

you gasped as matt pulled out of you, tenderly brushing your hair to the side to kiss your shoulder. you twisted your body and captured his lips in a kiss, grabbing his hair as another wave of want washed over you.

“we shouldn’t be doing this.” you sighed as you pulled him against your body.

“i know” he chuckles,

“but you’re just too irresistible.”

a.n.

DILF MATTTT holy shit this was a long one. this particular prompt/fic was inspired by yayo (rockstardolan) i think the prompt was super fun to write and i WANT YALL TO SEND ME REQUESTS!! i’m running out of ideas folks

also thank you for 100 followers WHAT?! you guys are insane.

btw i’ll make a tag list soon! i don’t really know how this stuff works yet so i’m currently trying to maneuver my way around this app the best i can lollll

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[I almost killed your boss with my grilled cheese sandwich]- Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

After the unexpected encounter with Soap and Ghost, your shop finally owns the vibes of peace.

The customers become so ‘normal’, almost feels like you aren’t in the same area as before – if you ignore the blood on their shirts or recall the memory of seeing them punching someone across the street. You assume the men must tell them to behave in your shop, but you must say the minions become a bit overreacting. They call you ma'am, chat as quietly as possible, and one of them even apologizes when he accidentally touches your finger as if you will chop off his pinky. You start doubting if they view you as a secret henchman of 141.

It’s morning now, the shop usually has more people at this time, but you haven’t had a single customer since you opened it 30 minutes ago, they just vanished without any hint, hence you start testing out new recipes for your bread.

Lilting the song that’s fully out of tune, you slice the bread you just baked into pieces, and throw one into your mouth. Perfectly crunchy outside, fluffy like clouds inside. Oh my, you’re such a genius.

You’re totally unaware of your visitor until he stirs the air with a cough and his voice.

“Pardon me?” He calls you again, but you’re left in a trance when you land your eyes on him.

Damn, he looks just like your imagination of the man in the Dilf next door fic you just read yesterday on co5. Your eyes travel from his well-trim beard, south to his belted waist. Why does a man with a toned body – which his khaki coat can’t even hide –  have such a tiny waist? Your mouth's agape at the sight as you’re about to respond.

“mmsadjsmm” The man raises his eyebrow in confusion, and you hear your voice not forming a proper sentence too. Ah, you forgot the bread’s still stuffed in your mouth.

“ehemm, Sorry Sir, I mean what would you like to have?” Quickly swallow the bread and try to pretend you didn’t just dumbfounded in front of him, you speak again.

“English breakfast, please.” He croons with an infatuating smile as he saunters to take a seat. 

His voice is quite soothing, you admit in your mind as you start brewing said man’s tea, just like you presumed the Dilf in the fic… okay, you really should clear those nasty brainrots during work.

The tea is nicely served in the tea cup and brought to the man shortly after.

You can’t help the smile crawling onto your face when you see him grin at you after a sip. You love watching your customer enjoy your tea, and he obviously relaxes with it have you bask in your achievements.

“Don’t finish your breakfast?”

“Just trying a new recipe. I want to add it to my menu.” you reply with a shake of your head, and after a brief halt, you add a question “ Have you eaten breakfast yet, Sir”

“Call me John, love.” The man – John sets his cup on the table before continuing “And no, I haven’t”

“Then… would you like to have a grilled cheese sandwich? I can’t finish the bread myself, it would be great if someone could help me with it... Of course, it isn’t a must!" You hurriedly complement when John widens his eyes slightly at your suggestion, but he meets your eyes with interest within.

”I would love to.”

You beam up as you get the affirmation, and walk behind your counter again.

Slices of bread are already prepared. The pro tip for a delicious grilled cheese sandwich is giving the bread some nice seasoning first, so you pick up your black pepper jar before inquiring about John’s preference.

“How much pepper would you like, John?”

“Would be great if it’s more.”

“Alright.”

You turn back to season the bread, but when you pick up the pepper jar and about to shake it, a question slips into your brain making you pause.

How much is “more”?

The man doesn't have time to sit here and wait for you to contemplate the philosophy of seasoning, so after biting your bottom lip and thinking for 30 seconds, you shake the jar. More is better, you recall what John told you as your hand keeps moving.

You shake it 10 times, since more is better.

Apart from the bread, you hold full confidence in your grilled cheese sandwich. Placing generous amounts of cheese in between, the coveted smell flooded your little shop as you plate the well-toasted sandwich.

“It surely smells great.” John praises before diving in.

You hang a big expecting grin until John takes a bite and starts coughing like you will put him into the ER with a sandwich.

“It’s– it’s okay…love…” He tries to comfort you when you apologize abundantly and rush back to your counter to fill him a cup of water. Holy, isn’t more pepper better? Now you're going to send the man to heaven with a grilled cheese sandwich.

“Here’s water!” You go back to John as fast as you can with the cold water in your hand, you’re busy checking out John, who stops coughing madly but cheeks pink with the spices, and you don’t see the leg of the chair sticking out of its usual place.

A pair of arms catch you from slamming onto the floor, but the cup isn’t that lucky as it flies with Newton’s help and clatters on the floor.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” You stabilize yourself in John’s support. But wow,  now the man not only just recovered from a fatal attack to his throat, but also has a wet spot spreading along the chest part of his shirt.

“No worries, love. It’s just a shirt.”

Even though John attempts to calm you, you still can’t help the sheepishness creep to your cheeks and stain it with the same pink as John’s, or stop thinking about if the balance in your bank account is able to buy the man a new shirt. You remember you wanted to get some cash out of the cashpoint but it shoved an ‘insufficient funds :(‘ into your face.

You really don’t want any customers to come in right now, even if it means your little tea shop will close down because you only have one from the start of today, but fate always gifts you things you crave when you don’t need them.

“Sorry boss, I’m late.”

You look at the tan-skinned man standing like a model just escaped from his manager, staring at you shoving a towel on John’s chest and both of your cheeks smeared with suspicious red.

“What happened?”

I almost murdered your boss with my grilled cheese sandwich. Apparently, you can’t answer with this, so you face John for help.

and he’s looking at you too, with a sly smirk awaiting your explanation.

You wonder if you can just make two sandwiches to shut these men up, with one more for yourself to end this predicament now.

a/n: ty for reading :D have a nice day/night!

No John Price is harmed in this chapter.

tag list :D - @blackhawkfanatic @nexthyperfix @danielle143

[riality-check]

The eagerly awaited part 2 of the DILF!Steve concert saga is here!! Part 1, in case you missed it.

"You're not going."

"Come on! I haven't thrown up in an hour!"

"The drive to the venue is an hour and a half."

"Steve-"

"And if you throw up in my car-"

"Oh my God-"

"I'll kill you."

Steve doesn't need to see Dustin's eye roll in order to feel the full force of it through the phone.

"I'll just kill you. You'll have a headstone within the week that says Here Lies Dustin Henderson: Rightfully Murdered for Puking in Steve Harrington's Car," he continues as he packs Capri-Suns into the cooler for the car ride.

He doesn't remember ever being that thirsty as a kid, but if Anna wants strawberry kiwi, Anna gets strawberry kiwi. It helps that it's Steve's favorite flavor, too.

"I'd need a big ass headstone to fit all of that," Dustin snaps.

"Your big-ass ego would demand no less, shithead," Steve shoots back.

"Swear jar, Daddy!" Anna calls from her room, across the house because while she doesn't listen to Steve when he's right in front of her, she can hear him break the swear jar rule from halfway across the world.

He zips up the cooler, fishes a quarter out of his pocket, and throws it into the half-full soup can next to the stove.

(A quarter doesn't mean much, but Anna doesn't know that. The day Steve teaches that kid about inflation is the day his pockets become permanently empty.)

"Did she just swear jar you?" Dustin asks from over the phone.

"You baited me into it."

"I did no such thing."

Steve rolls his eyes. "You're not coming, though, are you?"

Dustin sighs, and, for all his teasing, Steve does genuinely feel bad. "I still feel like if I breathe wrong, I'll hurl, so, no. I don't think I'll manage the car ride, nevermind the actual show."

"Sorry dude."

"Don't be. Some dickhead will live stream the whole thing on Instagram, anyway. I'll live vicariously through them."

Steve snorts and picks up the cooler. He got Anna dressed beforehand, so it's just a matter of getting her to stop playing with whatever toy she dug up - Play-Doh has been the fixation of the week - in her room so they can go.

"Besides," Dustin continues, and Steve hates where this is going. "Anna loved the show, and you've got a reason-"

"Nope," Steve says, knocking on Anna's door. "Don't finish that sentence."

"All I'm saying-"

"I know what you're gong to say, which means you know my answer. I don't date."

Anna opens her door. From the little Steve can see inside, there are at least three containers of Play-Doh open and strewn across the floor. He thinks her Barbies are involved in it somehow.

"Time to go," Steve says, and he thinks, Please don't let there be Play-Doh in the Barbie hair.

"Five more minutes," Anna tries.

"Nope. Clean up and roll out."

"Hi, Anna," Dustin says through the phone.

"Uncle Dusty!" Anna shrieks, and she starts jumping up and down. "Are you comin', too?"

Dustin sighs, and Steve can't tell if it's at the nickname or if he's still cursing the universe. "No, but you and your dad have a great time, okay?"

"Can you, can you tell Daddy I should get five more minutes?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at her. Anna, to her credit, ignores him wonderfully.

"If you clean up," Dustin says, because he's actually Steve's favorite person right now, "you get to do more headbanging at the concert."

Anna gasps like Steve didn't already tell her that earlier today, and she gets to work on putting her toys away. Steve helps, of course, and he finds that there is, in fact, Play-Doh in two of her Barbies' hair.

Fun. They're going to turn into Buzzcut Barbies when Anna goes to sleep because he can already tell that they are the furthest thing from salvageable.

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Anna in the car, deploying the first two of many strawberry kiwi Capri Suns from the cooler, and making the drive to the venue, which Steve does with minimal road rage and accompanied by the Disney radio station.

Success by all metrics, really.

Dinner might as well be now, so Steve shells out a truly disgusting amount of money for overpriced chicken nuggets and fries at the venue. Anna will only eat half her portion but say she's hungry later, but that's what the snacks and water Steve smuggled in via his jacket are for.

They get to their seats, dinner finished up, just as the lights go down for the first opener. Steve looks to his left, half-expecting Eddie and his friends to be there before remembering that they won't be.

He tries not to feel too disappointed. He fails miserably.

The seat next to him, however, isn't empty. There's a note taped to the back of it, one addressed to Steve and Miss Anna, so Steve feels alright taking and opening it.

At the top, there's a messily scrawled phone number. Underneath, it says:

Here's my number. Probably a bad idea to call with all the noise. Texting works, though you should do that after the show. I'll be a little busy until then.

-Eddie

Steve puts the note in his pocket, puts Anna's ear defenders on, puts his own earplugs in, and looks at the stage, where-

Hang on.

He squints at the stage, where four guys have started playing a song that, frankly, sounds too much like literally all the music Steve listened to yesterday for him to care about all that much. The drummer is pretty small, with wild, curly hair. The bassist looks familiar. The lead singer, who is very talented but not to Steve's personal taste, also looks familiar. And the guitarist-

No way. No way in hell.

It's a total coincidence. Lots of guys have long, curly hair and heavy jewelry and big eyes and are wearing formal wear, for some reason, and catch Steve's eye, and-

"Thank you for such a great welcome!" the guitarist says, and his smile totally isn't doing anything to Steve, thanks very much.

Anna stops moving, where she's standing next to Steve, and climbs up into his lap to get a better look at the stage. She looks out, then back at Steve, then out, then back at Steve, making a face as confused as Steve feels.

Some days, he thinks he ended up with a clone, not a kid.

"I'll get off the mic in a second. I only do the talking because Jeff," the guitarist points at the lead singer, who ducks his head, "is really shy."

Jeff. That name is definitely relevant, but Steve is a permanent resident of denial.

"We fought about what song we were going to include next in our set list, so much so that we didn't decide until yesterday and had to consult a tiebreaker."

Okay, maybe Steve is a less permanent resident of denial than he thought.

"So, thank you to Miss Anna, who did great at headbanging for her first time-"

Anna whips around so fast, her forehead nearly collides with Steve's jaw.

"And to Steve, who's a big fan of American Psycho."

At the song name, the crowd loses their minds, and if Anna wasn't sitting right in front of him, Steve would join them.

Because what the fuck is happening right now?

His question isn't answered. In fact, about five more questions pop up in its stead when, during the bridge of the song, Jeff puts on a clear rain jacket and picks up a prop axe.

Please, God, don't let this traumatize my kid, Steve thinks.

Anna, thankfully, doesn't get scared. When Jeff brings the axe down, again and again, Steve's weirdo daughter fucking smiles. And giggles. It's kind of cute, actually.

When the song ends, she turns back to Steve.

"That's Eddie onstage," Steve says, and saying it, somehow, makes it real.

"I thought so!" Anna says, and she turns back to watch the show. Steve puts an arm around her waist so she doesn't fall off his lap when she bangs her head to the music.

The rest of the songs, in Steve's opinion, are better than the opening song. They're more melodic, which Steve can definitely get behind, and each of them has a gimmick onstage, all based off of various horror movies. It's ridiculous, but also really, really cool.

And Eddie, onstage, because it is the same guy who flirted with him and was so sweet to Anna yesterday, is really, really hot.

Steve has never had a thing for guitarists before. He's never had a thing for musicians before. Hell, until a year ago, he didn't realize he had a thing for men.

Eddie is. Uh. Yeah. Really doing it for him.

Steve doesn't know whether it's his enthusiasm, or the way he moves, or seeing his hair tied up, or the fucking dress pants and suspenders, or just his hands, but he does know he has to get himself in check because this is an all ages show and he's here with his daughter.

He already knows he can't add these songs to his grading playlist, not when they're accompanied by visuals of Eddie playing his guitar.

Sweet Jesus.

"Alright, that's our set!" Eddie says. "Thanks, y'all, for sticking around for us, and let's give it up for the next act!"

The crowd, including Anna and Steve, cheer as they exit and the lights go up.

Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket, fully intending to add Eddie's number to his contacts, and is greeted by not one, not two, but sixteen missed calls from Dustin Henderson.

Naturally, Steve calls him back. "Who died?"

"What the fuck?" Dustin yells, and Steve just puts the phone on speaker to save the rest of his hearing. "Did Eddie fucking Munson just personally thank you from the stage?"

"Swear jar, Uncle Dusty!" Anna says.

"Sorry," Dustin says. "But Steve. Answers. Now."

"How do you even-"

"Instagram live. Is Eddie the guy you were telling me about yesterday?"

Steve takes his phone off speaker. Prior experience tells him that this conversation has a less than zero chance of staying PG, nevermind PG-13.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He is."

"The one who flirted with you, and you forgot to ask for his number."

"Well, I have it now."

"What?" Dustin shrieks, and Steve is incredibly thankful that he didn't take his earplugs out.

"He left me his number on the seat."

"Text him."

"I was going to, until I saw that you called me sixteen times."

"Jesus Christ, Eddie Munson was flirting with you."

Steve rolls his eyes and hands a pack of gummy bears to Anna when she taps his arm. "He could have just been nice. I don't even know if he's into guys."

"Have you looked at him?"

"Wow, Dustybuns, I didn't know you were homophobic."

"I think it's the complete opposite of homophobic to try to get you laid."

"Hanging up!" Steve shouts because a part of him will never see Dustin as any older than thirteen, and no thirteen year old should ever say that.

"Text-"

Steve hangs up the call. "Can I have a gummy bear?"

"No," Anna says, mouth full, in her seat, legs swinging.

"I bought them."

She shrugs. "You gave them to me. Mine now."

Steve stares. She stares right back.

He sighs and opens a new pack of gummy bears.

With his mouth full of sweet Haribo corpses, Steve takes out the note and adds Eddie to his contacts. Before he can overthink it, he sends him a message:

I guess I don't have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we're even on that front, I'm a teacher, and Anna's full time job is preschool.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket and focuses on making this a good experience for Anna, who somehow wormed her way into a conversation with the intimidating-looking couple sitting next to her.

Because it's totally not like a literal rockstar is going to text him back. Right?

Part 3!!