#The Tin of Your Sight

[poppy-purpura]

Um... References. I m not sure this is final version but yeah... There are my silly kids!

[solar-calculators]

[junovrsmp4]

three is not a crowd

OR

5 times Chris walks in on you and Matt fucking + 1 time he gets to join in on the fun

pairing: established!matt x reader, chris x reader, matt x reader x chris

summary: what it says on the tin basically

warnings: THREESOME, PURE FILTH, dick riding, oral (female & male receiving), teasing, edging, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, p in v, slight degradation/praising, slight angst, happy ending yay

word count: 6.9K

author’s note: im a whore for both of them. that is all. (also this has plot, and is mostly beta read but i havent slept in hrs so if some mistakes did slip thru my bad

1

“Hey Matt, have you seen my-” Chris begins to ask as he pushes Matt’s bedroom door open, expecting his brother to either be lazing around in bed or be at his desk, gaming.

What he doesn't expect is the sight he is instead greeted by, of you, Matt’s girlfriend of the last year and a half, astride Matt’s lap, riding his dick while he leans against his headboard, head thrown back and hands grabbing your hips, guiding you, slowly.

Chris is shocked, understandably, and he should just turn around and book it. Instead, he stands frozen, watching the way your head is nestled into the crook of Matt’s neck, your shoulders shaking. If Chris ignores the sound of his own pounding heart, he can almost hear the soft whimpers you’re letting out at each downward thrust of your hips.

At the sound of a soft, deep groan, Chris’ attention shifts to Matt, who has his eyes shut, and his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. There’s something surreal about this scene, seeing Matt, who looks nothing like Chris, but also looks the most like him, fucking this beautiful girl who’s been on his mind for months now.

“Matt…,” he hears you whine loudly against his brother’s neck, and Chris has to grit his teeth, fight against the urge to shove his hands into his pants and fist his growing erection. This shouldn't turn him on so much, hell, he shouldn't even be here right now. He should have run in the opposite direction as soon as he realized what he’d walked in on, but he’s mesmerized by the way you move, your back arching as your hips move back and forth. The slow, sensual, almost hypnotic, movements of your body as you ride Matt’s dick has him clenching his fists, nails digging into his palms and it’s easy to imagine him in Matt’s place as he gets this view of what it might look like to fuck you. Your moans grow louder, and Chris thinks it might be because you’re getting close, and god, he feels so hot underneath his skin.

“Shh baby, didn't you say we needed to be quiet?” Matt whispers against the side of your head. “Can’t have Chris hearing us, can we?”

At the sound of his name, Chris’ heart hammers faster, and he looks up at Matt’s face, only to see that his brother’s gaze was already on him, watching him with a slight smirk before thrusting his hips up, presumably driving his cock deeper into you, making you moan even louder than you already were.

Breaking out of his stupor, Chris stumbles backwards before hightailing it to his room, slamming the door behind him. It takes all of five seconds for him to get his cock out of his sweatpants, furiously jerking off as he leans against his door, biting into the hem of his t-shirt that he’d pulled up over his chest, and only another five seconds before he shoots his cum all over himself.

2

Chris knows its wrong, wanting his brother's girl. This was never a problem before, because any time he found out Matt liked someone, Chris immediately lost interest. It was the brothers’ code; they never fought over girls, and besides, they always just liked different ones.

You, though…it was hard not to like you, even after he found out Matt had his eyes on you.

Chris remembers the first time he met you, how nice you’d been to him and his brothers, how easily you’d fit into their lives. He’s not going to lie and say he’d wanted you right from the start. It was a gradual thing, slowly creeping up on him before he realized what had gotten him.

You just made him feel so comfortable, and surprisingly, the two of you had a lot in common. But then again, you had a lot in common with Matt, and Nick. And yet, you were so different. You were smart, playful, and so, so kind. You were just the right amount of goofy and serious, and you just, fit well into the dynamic Chris and his brothers shared.

It shouldn't have surprised him when Matt eventually told him and Nick that he was into you and planned to ask you out. It all happened so quickly after that. You and Matt had gotten together and, now you weren't just the new friend that Chris and his brothers were always hanging out with, but his brother's (his brother who was also his best friend, really) girlfriend.

Which is why Chris knows it’s fucked up. Wanting you. And he knows it’s even more fucked up that he wishes he could have a repeat of what happened a few weeks ago when he accidentally walked in on you and Matt. The amount of times he’s jacked off to that memory alone the past few nights is insane, his mind supplying images to create his own version of events where he doesn't run away.

Especially fucked up is the fact that Matt had seen him, had looked cocky that he’d caught Chris watching them, and even that fact hadn’t deterred Chris from chasing orgasm after orgasm to the thought of fucking you, imagining how tight and wet your pussy might be, what it might taste like.

Speaking of the fucker who seemed totally unfazed by recent events, Matt sat across Chris, scrolling through his phone, while Nick sat beside him, editing their latest video. Chris was trying his hardest not to flip the fuck out, but his whole nervous system seemed like it was fried. Nick had already yelled at him twice to stop moving so much because he was apparently jostling the table too much, and Matt had just let out a bemused chuckle without lifting his eyes from his phone the entire time.

Just as Chris was about to get up and retreat to him room, the doorbell rings, before Matt gets a series of texts.

“Oh, she’s here-” Matt says, before shooting out of his chair and rushing to great you at the front door.

“Hey, hey, hey!” your cheery voice rings through the hallway, as you and Matt make your way into the kitchen, and Chris almost chokes on the sip of Pepsi he’d just taken because holy fuck-

You were wearing a short, tight black dress that hugged the lines and curves of your body just right, the square neckline barely covering your chest. His eyes slipped further down to the way the fabric of the dress cinched at your waist, and to the slit at the side of the dress that came up to mid-thigh. That and the combination of tall strappy heels you had on made your legs look…really good. So good that Chris wishes he was between those legs, licking a path up your calf to your inner thighs, leaving bruising kisses to mar the smooth, unblemished skin of your legs, before finally, finally-

Nick hoots just then, exclaiming about how hot your fit looks, pulling Chris out of his daze. He watches as you bask in the compliments being showered onto you by both Nick and Matt now, and can't help but smile at the way you try to hide your blushing face.

So, it’s completely out of left field when he sees you again later that night, sitting on the couch with your hands covering your face but this time it’s to hide the loud moans that threaten to slip from your mouth as you watch Matt kneel in front of you, his mouth pressing kisses into your inner thighs…just like Chris had imagined doing earlier.

It’s ridiculous really, how Chris had been feeling slightly normal after dinner with you and his brothers, because as awkward as he may have been feeling about you and Matt, being around you and his brothers, having good food and just laughing about random shit made him feel really fucking good. Like everything was normal and he wasn't fantasizing about fucking his brother’s girlfriend. Like he hadn't accidentally walked in on them fucking.

Of course it’s just his fucking luck that as soon he’s feeling just that slightest bit of normalcy, he’d decided to go to the kitchen and grab a Pepsi from the fridge at 3 AM, only to find his brother about to eat you out on the couch.

“Matt-” you whine, as your back arches off the couch, one of your hands moving to grab Matt’s hair, the other trying and failing to hold back your moans. “Matt, please- nnggh- stop teasing.”

Chris feels all his blood rush down south and it leaves him lightheaded. The low lighting in the room accentuates the shadows of your body and he can see the muscles in your legs flex as your thighs clench around Matt’s head, trying to get him to move his mouth closer to where you want him. You’re not in the tight black dress he’d seen you in earlier, but in a blue baby tee and black lace-trimmed hipster briefs. There’s an almost imperceptible quiver that wracks through your entire body in anticipation for what’s to come.

Matt doesn't keep you waiting for long. Chris' breathing grows even more jagged as he watches Matt’s fingers push your panties to the side before he runs his tongue flat up your pussy. Chris can't see as much as he’d like to, but his overactive imagination does the job for him, imagining how wet you must be.

Chris feels like such a sick perv for still standing there, watching with wide eyes as Matt (his literal brother) enthusiastically licks and kisses your pussy, and he almost wonders how neither of you haven't noticed him yet. Then again, you and Matt seem so lost in each other, and now there’s another ugly thought circling Chris’ brain, one that makes his chest hurt a little.

He forgoes his Pepsi for the night and quietly returns back to his room, cock half-hard, and his heart just the slightest bit heavy.

3

“Alright, what’s going on with you?” Nick asks him, while his eyes are still fixed on his phone.

He and Chris were sitting on the couch (Chris had been avoiding the section that you and Matt had used during your late night rendezvous), and Chris was idly flipping through his Netflix watch list.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Chris says with a heavy sigh, slumping further into the couch.

It’s quiet, and the silence makes Chris look up at Nick, who was already looking at him with a curious frown.

“Seriously, what the fuck is up with you?” Nick asks, and he actually looks concerned, which throws Chris off a bit. “You’re usually bouncing off the walls and annoying the shit out of everyone in your nearest vicinity, but lately you've just been, I don't know- I’m like actually worried, did something happen? Is everything okay?”

Chris swallows around the lump that had formed in his throat and takes a minute. To do what, he doesn't know. It’s not like he’s going to prepare himself to tell Nick what he’d witnessed, twice, and how he was feeling about it. Really, how does one go about telling their triplet brother that they’d accidentally witnessed their other brother in an intimate situation with said brother’s partner, not once, but twice, and had enjoyed it, to the point of having nightly fantasies about it?

There were more complicated feelings lurking just under the surface, more than just Chris wanting to fuck you, but he did not have the mental bandwidth to unpack all that, so that was that. It’s not like he had honest to god feelings-

“See, at this point, you would’ve been yapping away-” Nick says, interrupting his train of thought, “-but instead, you’re just sitting there, looking all sad and miserable.”

“Okay, I don't look sad and miserable,” Chris says with a roll of his eyes. At least, he hopes he doesn't. “I’m just tired dude. Haven't been sleeping well lately.”

“Right.”

“What? It’s the truth.”

“Didn't say you were lying,” Nick says, matter-of-factually, in that signature Nick tone that lets everyone know when he isn't buying their bullshit.

“I’m fine,” Chris says slowly, waiting for Nick to stop looking at him so intensely.

“Sure,” Nick drawls out. “You’re also a shitty liar.”

“Fuck you,” Chris grumbles, chucking the TV remote at Nick, who flails to try and dodge it, letting out an indignant squawk when it bounces off his shoulder and falls to the ground.

This, of course, results in Nick throwing whatever was closest to him at Chris, which happens to be an empty water bottle, and eventually they're just chucking it back and forth, cursing at each other in between laughter.

It’s the most relaxed Chris has felt in weeks.

Too bad you had to walk in at that exact moment.

“Hey guys!” you say cheerily, plopping down on the couch, next to Chris. You’d stayed over for a couple of nights now, as you usually do, and Chris should be extremely used to your presence, except he feels his skin prickle as soon as your close to him, close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating off of your skin.

“God, how are you so chipper every morning?” Nick asks, shaking his head with a poorly hidden smile.

You twirl a strand of your hair around your finger, and bit the corner of your bottom lip. “It helps that I wake up to one of the hottest guys ever, and then get to hang out with his hot as fuck brothers,” you say with a smirk, waggling your eyebrows at Nick.

Chris wishes you hadn't just said that because now his mind wanders (more like sprints) to the memory of this morning, when he’d walked past Matt’s open bedroom. He’d heard the telltale sounds of skin slapping against skin, and your voice, whining Matt’s name over and over, which had him stopping right before Matt’s door, eyes wide, mouth agape. This couldn't be happening right? There was no way he’d walked into this situation for a third time.

Chris debates on whether he should just turn back around, go downstairs, out the front door, and bash his head against a tree, or if he should soldier on and just walk past to get to his room.

The sounds were getting to him. His cock strained against his grey sweatpants, creating a very obvious tent. His clothes suddenly felt a size too small, the air around him too thick, and he felt sweat break out on his forehead. He should leave, run far, far away from his house probably, but a sick part of him wants more than anything to see what’s got you moaning this time.

He rounds the corner and is met with a sight that almost has him falling to his knees.

It’s unfair, how incredibly gorgeous you look straddling Matt’s thighs, bouncing on his dick rhythmically, your head thrown back. You’re leaning back on your hands, supported on Matt’s knees, and Chris watches the way your body undulates as you swivel your hips, ribs flaring as your chest heaves. Every gasp you let out is a punch to Chris’ gut, leaving him feeling winded.

You’re so lost in the throes of pleasure that you don't hear when Chris groans out loud, but he knows exactly when Matt hears him, because his head rolls lazily towards him, his hands that had been grabbing your hips tightening, and there’s little to no warning before Matt’s flipping you over and thrusting into you with vigor.

“Does that feel good baby?” Chris hears Matt ask, his voice rough and low. “Tell me how good my dick makes you feel.”

“Fuck, so good, Matt- please, please, please-” your moans turning into whimpers as Matt’s thrust pick up in pace. Chris can tell exactly when Matt hits the bundle of nerves inside you that has you seeing stars because your back arches off his bed, hands scrambling to find purchase. Your fingers clench into the pillow above your head, as you beg Matt to go harder, faster.

Chris’ eyes bounce back to Matt, who’s watching you in awe, and he’s seen that look on his face numerous times before, like Matt can't get enough of you. Chris’ breath hitches, because he wishes it was him, in Matt’s place. Him, worshiping you, making you feel good. He wishes he was the one that was ripping those sounds out of you.

He catches Matt’s eyes just then, and Chris has never wanted to punch him in the face more than he does in that moment, because it almost feels like he’s mocking Chris.

See what I have, what you so desperately want…

Chris holds up a middle finger, directed at Matt and whatever god was up there who’d clearly forsaken him. He had half the mind to just yell but the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass you. So with a scathing look at Matt, and a mouthed fuck you, he walks to his room, the sound of Matt’s laughter the last thing he hears before Chris angrily slams the door and sheds his clothes, pumping his cock to the memory of your voice.

It’s the hardest he’s cum all week.

4

Chris walks in on Matt pounding you against the wall leading to the garage. At this point, it had to be on purpose. The two of you had to be planning this, because how was it always Chris that ended up walking in on them, and not Nick? Knowing his brother, Nick would’ve gone around voicing his disgust at having caught you and Matt fucking, any chance he got.

So, it had to be on purpose.

Matt’s whispering dirty things in your ear, loud enough for Chris to hear every word.

“You’re so fucking pretty baby-”

“I want to ruin you, want you to feel me for days-”

“You’re such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?” and that has you letting out a particularly loud whine. The next bit Matt whispers into your ear is too inaudible for Chris to comprehend but he can tell how much it affects you, because you absolutely lose it just then.

Fuck this. Fuck all of this.

“Can y’all stick to fucking in Matt’s bed?”

At the sound of Chris’ voice, you look up at him, startled, and it’s electrifying, your stare. Chris sees your eyebrows furrow, your lips, plump from being bitten (by yourself, or Matt, who cares at this point), fall open. Matt’s shoulders stiffen for a second, so Chris knows he’s aware that Chris is right behind them, but the asshole just keeps fucking going. And you, you’re still staring.

“Chris-” you gasp, your nails digging into Matt’s shoulder. Chris thinks you’re going to push him away, scramble to pull yourself together.

You surprise him by pushing back down onto Matt’s cock with even more fervor, your hands moving up Matt’s neck to grab onto his hair, pulling hard.

Chris watches you cum on Matt’s cock for the first time that night, all while your eyes were locked on his.

5

Chris doesn't like being angry. He very rarely is. And usually, he gets over it really quick.

Which is why it’s shocking to everyone when he gets cold and hostile towards Matt seemingly out of nowhere, and the anger doesn't subside.

It gets in the way of their work. Filming becomes exhausting, and it leaves all three brothers feeling frustrated and annoyed at each other.

It’s in the middle of filming a new car video when it all goes to head. Nick and Matt had attempted to film a video, but Chris couldn’t hold back the jabs at Matt, interrupting him every time he spoke, insulting him for no reason whatsoever, which only made Matt retaliate just as hard.

“That’s it-” Nick yells, his hands pushing his hair out of his face in frustration. “I’ve fucking had it with you two. I’m getting the fuck out of this car and the two of you are going to stay in here and talk. Don’t even bother coming back in until you sort out whatever-” he gestures wildly between Matt and Chris, “-is going on with you two!”

And with that, Nick storms back into their house.

Chris stares out of the window with his arms crossed, seething. He can tell Matt is looking at him, can see part of his reflection on the window, but Chris isn’t going to give him the satisfaction of breaking first.

Matt, much to Chris’ annoyance, was completely calm and collected.

“Chris-” Matt begins to say, but Chris just chucks his empty Pepsi can at him without looking. He hears it clatter against something (the steering wheel, he thinks), before dropping down onto the car floor with a dull thud.

Matt sighs, and Chris wants to yell, because Chris is the one that should be huffing and sighing, he’s the one that’s tired of all this bullshit.

“Are you trying to prove something?” Chris asks, because he never could stay quiet for too long. “Is that it? What the actual fuck Matt?”

Chris had fully turned to face Matt, who at least had the decency to look somewhat abashed now. His face was tinged pinked, and he was fiddling with his rings.

Chris continues. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but if you’re just trying to get me to see she’s your girl, I fucking get it, okay? You’ve made that really fucking clear. Did I say or do something to warrant this shit, because if you think I’m out to get her, I’m not, okay? Jesus- do you know how fucking insane-”

“She wants you bro.”

Chris blinks. He opens his mouth, and then shuts it.

“I used to catch her staring at you sometimes, and there were times she’d just keep scrolling through pictures of the two of us together- you and me, I mean- and…I don’t know, she’d have this look on her face.” Matt trails off. He looks at Chris, trying to gauge his reaction so far, but truth be told, Chris was still trying to process what Matt had initially said.

“What…?”

“Look, the two of us are happy together. I love her, she loves me, but I think she…” Matt coughs out, and it’s the first time since this whole thing has started that Chris has seen Matt this awkward. “She’s into you too. She never really told me, but it got pretty obvious after a while. And eventually, I- I started bringing you up, when we- um, yeah. She wants us both.”

Chris starts laughing. Because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Alright, good prank dude- I’m still so fucking mad at you but-”

“I’m not kidding, Chris.”

Right. Because why would Matt joke about something like this?

“Um…”

“Yeah…”

And that’s how Chris finds himself back in Matt’s room. You and Matt were sitting on his bed, albeit a little far apart, meanwhile Chris had taken a seat in Matt’s gaming chair. Chris almost wants to call the two of you out on the pure torture you’d put him through the past few weeks, but one look at your face has him abandoning that train of thought.

You look so…remorseful. You’re slightly curled in on yourself, like you’re bracing for some sort of attack, and Chris’ heart melts. The last thing he wants is for you to feel upset, so he tries to lighten the mood.

“So, do you just wanna see which one of us has the better dick or-?”

He smiles as you sputter, eyes wide as you finally look up at him.

“There we go,” Chris whispers. “You’re finally looking at me.”

“Chris…I’m so sorry,” you whisper, lips trembling. “God, this is so stupid, why did we decide to tell him-”

“Hey, hey-” Chris chides. “I think I’ve been kept in the dark long enough, actually. I just wish y’all hadn’t used such a weird ass fucking way to tell me.”

“Well, to be fair, she didn’t even know you’d seen us that first couple of times,”

“Oh, god-”

“-And, we kinda assumed you’d take the fucking hint or something.”

“Yeah, I thought the hint was ‘I know you wanna fuck my girl, so I’m gonna make sure you catch us fucking every chance we get so you stay the fuck away’,” Chris says with a raised brow, staring deadpan at Matt.

“Wait, what-” you start, but you’re interrupted by Matt.

“Yeah, he’s wanted to fuck you for a while too.”

And that's how Chris finds himself with a front row view of Matt fucking you, up close and personal. Matt has you on all fours, facing Chris, while he pounds into you from behind, hard and deep. Each thrust punches a high-pitched moan out of you, and Chris watches, enraptured by the way you take it.

Chris watches to his heart's content that night, no longer worried about getting caught, no longer stressed about wanting to fuck you.

Chris watches you fall apart in Matt's hands over and over, and all he can think about is when he can finally have his turn.

+ 1

They’d had to wait for the perfect moment, a night they could be sure none of them would be interrupted.

They'd been planning for this night for a few days now, and it was finally here.

Chris and Matt stand side-by-side in front of Matt’s bed, arms crossed over their chest as they watch you squirm in his bed, their combined attention making you nervous. They’re both barely dressed, Chris in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, the front of which were already tented from his hard dick, while Matt was just in his black boxers. The low lighting of the room made Matt’s rings glisten as he rubbed at the stubble that he’d slowly allowed to grow on his face.

“How are we feeling, baby?” Matt asks you, smirking at the way you visibly gulp. “You ready for us?”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, looking up at Chris through your lashes before nodding.

That’s all the cue he needs.

Chris stalks over to you, slowly, climbing over the bed and crawling over you, his hands landing on either side of your head as he holds himself above you. You lay back, your hair fanning around your head on the pillow, your eyes wide as you wait for Chris’ next move.

“Can I kiss you?” Chris asks, wetting his lips, and he doesn’t have to wait long for his answer. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling at the strands close to his nape, bringing his lips onto yours. The kiss is heady, a wild mess of tongue and teeth, because you’d both been waiting for this, dying for it, and here it was, finally happening.

“Chris-” you gasp, open mouth sliding over the hot skin of his cheek as he lowers his head to the crook of your neck, biting harsh kisses into the skin there, before tracing his tongue across your jaw.

“Fuck, fuck- you smell so good, I need you so bad ma-” Chris blabbers, his brain-to-mouth filter long gone. He vaguely registers Matt settling onto the bed, leaning against the headboard, as Chris kisses a path down your body, laving every inch of skin he can access with nips and kisses. You arch your back as Chris circles one of your nipples with his tongue, sucking on it as he flicks the other. He alternates between kissing and nipping your nipples, all the while, you have an almost painful grip on his hair, pushing your chest harder into his face.

Matt watches your face intently, seeing the way your features scrunch up in pleasure, mouth wide open as you gasp and whine. There’s a small part of him that knows he shouldn’t be so okay with his own brother having his way with his girlfriend, but it’s almost like he gets a 4K view of what it might usually look like when Matt’s the one doing these things to you.

Chris continues his path downwards, fingers hooking into the sides of your panties and slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulling them off of you. Your legs instinctively squeeze shut when the cold air hits your wet core, but Chris’s hands gently pry them open, staring at you in wonder.

“You’re so fucking wet, fuck-” Chris groans, before licking a stripe up the seam where your thigh meets your crotch, so close to where you actually want his tongue.

“Please, please-” you whimper, pushing your hips up closer to his lips, feeling his hot breath fan over you pussy. You hear both him and Matt chuckle, before Chris has his mouth on you, licking the wetness gathered in your folds. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and the obscene sounds of Chris’s mouth as he eats you out like a man starving.

It’s almost too much, the way he’s sucking on your clit, before pushing his tongue into you, his face pushed deep, you’re sure he can’t breath. The pleasure builds, heat pooling low in your stomach. You feel Matt’s fingers brush against your forehead, pushing the hair that was starting to stick to it from all the sweat.

“You feel good baby?” Matt asks, tone soft, but his eyes glint dangerously. “One of us wasn’t enough for you, was it? You’re such a dirty girl, wanting me and my brother.”

You whine, head pushing against his thigh closest to your head. Chris laughs, pulling his head back to chime in.

“Greedy little slut, that’s what she is,” he says, cheeks rosy and face glistening from the nose down, his chin absolutely soaking wet. “You gonna cum soon ma?”

You don’t even know what you respond with, just that Chris goes back to eating you out, this time, bringing his fingers to your entrance, sliding one finger, then two, into your sopping wet cunt as he licks random paths across your folds, occasionally circling your clit and sucking on it harshly, all while thrusting his fingers in and out of you, causing you to buck your hips up wildly. Your orgasm, only the first one of the night, is fast approaching, and your thighs clench around Chris’ head. The only warning he gets is a sudden yell of his name before you gush all over his face.

“Did you just- did she just squirt?” Chris asks, eyes wide as he takes in the mess that you’d made. His face and neck were now fully wet, and there was a perfectly round wet spot right underneath you. His fingers flutter over your now slightly puffy pussy, watching your folds quiver.

“Fuck, it’s too much- Chris, wait,” you whine, hands moving to grab Chris’ wrist. He doesn’t stop with his ministrations though, fingers pumping in and out of you, prodding at the bundle of nerves inside you that caused your vision to white out. It was fast, intense, and Chris manages to pull a second orgasm out of you before you’d even managed to catch your breath from the first one.

Chris sits up on his knees, reaching his arms behind him and pulling his tank top off, throwing it behind him. He hooks his arms around your thighs before pulling you down the bed, closer to him, allowing Matt to slot himself behind you.

“Can you turn over for me ma?” Chris asks with a gentle pat against your hip. It takes some effort, your limbs feel loose and languid, but you manage to flip onto your stomach. Hands grab your face, tipping your head up, and you see your boyfriend looking at you with a smirk, tongue peeking out to run across his teeth.

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” he asks, voice like dripping honey with a hint of something razor-sharp. “This everything you imagined?”

“Yes- oh god, Matt- I need you, please-”

“You have me baby,” he coos. “You have me and Chris. That’s what you wanted, right? ‘Cause one dick was never enough to keep you satisfied.”

“Ngghh- please, please, I-” you whimper, mouthing at Matt’s dick through his boxers, startled when you feel a sudden smack against your ass, pain blossoming across your skin.

“If she’s already this cock dumb, I wonder how she’s gonna get when we actually get our dicks in her,” Chris wonders out loud with an amused huff, palming at your ass cheeks as he rubs his clothed dick against it.

You continue begging, your pussy soaking wet and clenching around nothing in anticipation for what’s to come, hips arching off the bed while your back dips low, shoulders tucked between Matt’s spread thighs as you lick him through the only piece of fabric that is keeping you from tasting him, from having his cock fill your mouth.

Chris smooths his palm down your back, making you arch your back even further, before he spreads your cheeks, seeing the way you twitch at being put on display.

“I think she’s waited long enough, hasn’t she?” Matt asks Chris, nodding his head slightly as if to tell Chris to get on with it. Chris doesn’t waste any time pushing his sweats down his thighs, freeing his cock. You turn your head back to try and peek at it from over your shoulder, but Matt has a firm hand on your head pushing you towards his crotch while he pulls his dick out of his boxers. With one hand holding the back of your head, and the other around his dick, Matt slaps it against your cheek, amused at the way you so desperately try and get him to guide his cock into your mouth instead.

Simultaneously, Chris is behind you, rubbing the tip of his dick through your folds, gathering the wetness there. Above you, you feel Matt lean towards his dresser, before rifling through the top drawer and chucking something at Chris. There’s a sound of a bottle cap clicking open, and lube being squeezed out, before you hear the squelch of it as Chris spreads it over his dick.

Later, you’ll think they must have planned this head of time, but both Matt and Chris decide to push their dicks into you at the same time, Matt feeding you his cock, pushing past your lips, applying gentle pressure to the back of your head, while Chris spreads your folds apart and drives his dick into you, the tip catching inside you for a moment, before he thrusts his hips and pushes his dick deeper into you.

“Look at that,” Chris says, smacking the palms of both his hands onto your cheeks at the same time, before kneading at them. “She takes dick really fucking well.”

“It’s like she’s made for it, isn’t she?”

Chris fucks you like he has all the time in the world, savoring the feeling of your pussy clenching around him, fascinated by the sight of his dick disappearing in you at every thrust. You stretch around him so beautifully, and you’re so fucking tight, he wonders how he managed to fit it all in you in one go.

At the other end, Matt watches you with soft affection as you suck on his cock, tears streaming down your face from the exertion on your body and minimal air supply. At every thrust of Chris’ hips, you would get pushed closer to Matt, which would push his dick deeper into your mouth, making you almost gag on it.

You have no concept of time anymore, or where your body starts and Chris’ and Matt’s end. You feel like one big mess of limbs, moving fluidly, with the common purpose of chasing your orgasm. You hear Matt’s groans getting louder above you, and you know he’s getting close. You’re not far behind yourself, but Chris still seems like he’s nowhere close to being done.

Pulling your mouth off of Matt’s cock, you circle your hand around the base of it, before stroking your hand up and down, twisting it around the head. You swipe your thumb across the slit at the top while you tongue at the underside of the head, all while looking up at Matt through hooded eyes.

“Cum on my face, Matt, please-” you beg, mouth slightly open, a line of spit connecting your tongue to his dick. Chris' thrusts are picking up, but you keep your elbows planted firmly on the bed below to keep yourself steady for Matt. There’s a tingle building low in your spine, but you focus on Matt, the way he looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His hair is a mess, and his body is flushed. The hand he has on your head grips your hair tight, and the other joins your hand in pumping his dick. It only takes a few more seconds of that before Matt lets out a loud groan of your name, spurts of thick, hot cum landing across your face, and you close your eyes as it drips down your face, some of it landing on your tongue.

Matt leans back heavily against the headboard, and before you can register anything, you’re being flipped onto your back, face still covered in Matt’s cum. Your shoulders hit Matt’s chest as Chris crowds against you on the bed, his hands now on the back of your knees, pushing your legs back against your chest, before thrusting his dick back into you.

The sudden shift has you blinking back stars, and this new angle has Chris’ dick brushing against your sweet spot on every thrust, and all you can do is sob at the immense pleasure you feel. Matt circles his arms around you, one hand playing with one of your nipples, while the other moves down your stomach and edges closer to your clit. The tingling sensation grows, and grows, your hands scrambling to find purchase on Chris’ shoulders as he thrusts particularly deep into you before you finally snap, screaming as your third orgasm is ripped from you, the force of it pushing Chris’ cock out of you as you squirt all over him, yourself, and the bed, legs shaking uncontrollably.

You’re fully gasping and sobbing now, the intensity of your orgasm wracking through your whole body. You watch through hooded, teary eyes, as Chris leans over you, furiously stroking his cock as he soaks in the view of you, hot and messy, ruined because of him, before he too eventually reaches his orgasm, cum pulsing out of him and landing high on your chest, across your nipples, one spurt even hitting your chin.

The three of you are a heaping mess of limbs after, all basking in the afterglow of a night well spent, tired, but satiated. Matt and Chris lay on either side of you, stroking whatever part of your skin they can reach, occasionally batting each other’s hands away and pulling you closer to either side, like you’re not all squished together already.

“We should do that again sometime,” you say after a long beat of silence. Matt snorts, eyes closed, but the corners of his lips are quirked up in a small smile.

“Y’all are crazy if you think I’m never fucking you again after I just got a taste,” Chris states. “Besides, I think there’s a lot of lost time I need to make up for, hm?”

After that night, Chris gets to have his turn with you, over and over. Sometimes, Matt is present, and the brothers somehow always turn things into a competition of who can make you cum the quickest, who can make you cum multiple times, who can make you absolutely incoherent by the end of the night.

Now Chris had his own reason for always being so chipper in the morning. It helps that he finally gets to fuck the hottest girl he’s seen, who just happens to also be fucking his brother.

author’s note: i put too much fucking effort into an idea that essentially started as a joke, its gonna be so funny if this flops because i literally stayed up till 4 am twice in a row to write this lmao- anyways, let me know what you think! my inbox is open and waiting for your thoughts (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @kvtie444 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @55sturn @chrisopeningabag

[lovebugism]

Kissing eddie just as you’re both about to get out of the car and now he’s got a problem cause he’s hard, and all your friends are waiting for you and you’re both a little late and Eddie we really gotta hurry up! what’s the issue? and the poor boy is bright red to his neck over how gone he is on you

ty for requesting :D ps: i'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure over this prompt –– when eddie's about to leave for a show, you make sure he knows exactly what he's missing out on (established relationship, st4 canon divergence, allusions to smut 18+ | 1k)

“How do I look?” Eddie wonders aloud as you trail down the creaking porch steps behind him. He plants his feet on the gravel driveway and spins on the heel of his sneaker to face you –– already bare-faced and clad in your pretty PJs for the night, a striking contrast to the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin standing before you.

You pause on the second-to-last step and reach for his face. Eddie leans instinctively into your warm touch as you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, gently smudging his dark liner a bit more. 

“Like a rockstar,” you answer with a proud smile.

Eddie scrunches his nose sheepishly in response, ‘cause he has nowhere to hide with you cradling his blushing face like this. He’s still not immune to the way you look at him, even after all this time. “You’re just sayin’ that,” he mumbles, kicking a lone rock with the toe of his show.

You hum in agreement as your hands fall from his face. “Yeah. ‘Cause it’s true.”

“To you, maybe,” Eddie scoffs, trying hard to ignore the pang of anxiety in his chest. “No one else seems to think so.”

He never used to be nervous performing before Vecna tried to kill him. It was the world that was scared of Eddie Munson, not the other way around –– until it nearly ended, anyway. Now, just leaving the house is enough to induce a panic attack. A part of him is always distantly fearful that a stranger’s face will turn out to be the dark wizard’s, back to life and hiding in plain sight again.

“Hey,” you scold, only partially playful. “I think the crowd of five drunks who watch you perform every Tuesday would agree with me.”

Despite the ice-cold apprehension making his limbs feel numb, Eddie manages a breathy chuckle. “You’re right. We could bomb, and they’d still act like we were playing Madison Square Garden or something.”

You soften then, as though sensing his worry. “You’re not gonna bomb, Eds. You guys are gonna do great. Just like always.”

“Sure you can’t come?” Eddie wonders quietly, blinking up at you with a pair of chocolate button eyes that are hard to say no to.

“You know I can’t… I have an early morning tomorrow,” you coo sympathetically, fighting back a smile when the boy’s rosy bottom lip juts in a pout. “But I’ll be right here when you get back, okay? And I’ll make sure to heat up dinner when you’re on your way. So you have something to soak up the alcohol and adrenaline with.”

You tilt your cheek to your shoulder, squinting suspiciously when Eddie’s frown curls into a cheeky grin. He reaches for you with a pair of ringed hangs and squeezes at your clothed hips. “Just like a good little housewife, huh?” he croons mischievously.

You roll your eyes at him ‘cause you’re not a housewife by any means. 

You live in a trailer with his uncle, for one. And you work five days a week, for another. Besides, you’re not even his wife, which you think is usually the first step. (You have no idea Eddie’s already picked a ring out for you. Or that he plans on keeping that a secret until he plays enough shows to afford a house). 

You decide to humor him, anyway. 

“Sure,” you monotone with a slow nod.

Eddie’s grin widens.

“C’mon on, Munson! We’re gonna be late!” Jeff lisps from the passenger side window of the van. The rusted tin can is parked a ways down the drive, packed to the brim with all their band equipment like a perfect game of Tetris.

You lean forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth.

“Wear that dress I like when I get back?” Eddie murmurs lowly.

You hum with your lips pursed to the side of your mouth, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmm… I was kinda thinkin’ about wearing nothing, actually,” you answer, shrugging innocently. “You know, for easy access and whatnot.”

Eddie warms all over. His wild head starts to swim at the visual –– one he’s seen a hundred times before that he’s not quiet sure he’ll ever get over. “Have mercy…” the boy mumbles under his breath.

“Just try not to think about it too much while you’re gone…” you lilt knowingly, smoothing both your hands up and over the lapels of his leather jacket. “All alone… Naked in our bed… Trying to get myself off while I wait for you…”

Eddie stares at you with heavy, lidded eyes. He can’t take the chocolates of them off your lips as they curl into a mischievous, tightlipped smile. “How ‘bout I just stay home?” he offers lowly.

A resounding honk blares from the van in a wordless answer. 

Gareth leans out the driver’s side window, face screwed and sandy curls wild. “C’mon, Eddie!” the boy yells like an impatient younger brother. “Put your dick in your pants already so we can go!” 

Eddie’s head swivels back to face you again, chest deflating with a grieving sigh. 

“You have to go,” you tell him, soft and sympathetic, as you press another kiss to his pout. “Have fun, honey,” you croon and step back from him –– knowing exactly what you’re doing as you trek back up the wobbly wooden porch steps.

Before you shut the front door behind you, you flash the boy a curt wave and a pretty smile. It takes a world of strength to keep from following behind you. 

In a perfect world, Eddie would already have the door bolted shut with you pressed against it by now. He’d have your oversized shirt balled up at your ribs and your shorts pulled down to your ankles and his mouth licking over your pretty cotton panties.

He shakes his head in a physical attempt to remove the sinful thoughts from his brain as he stalks back to the van. He keeps his head bowed as he goes, trying to hide his reddened cheeks behind his wild curls. Gareth watches from the window as Eddie tugs at the crotch of his jeans, trying to un-strangle his hard cock like a teenager.

The boy leans between the front seats as Eddie climbs into the driver’s side, slamming the screeching door shut behind him. “You’re pathetic,” Gareth teases through a fit of boyish laughter.

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbles.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tin Soldier

Gwayne returns from Rook's Rest to King's Landing where his wife has been patiently waiting for him, knowing he would need stress relief.

Gwayne Hightower x Reader | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, pwp idk what to tell you, ok nvm porn with feelings, gwaynes BRATTY, smut (piv, bdsm, pet play??, biting, marking, scratching), fluff can you believe that, typos, etc.

A/N: inspired by this post. i wish @barbieaemond and @targs-on-zorses a very much i hope you suffer

"Oh, praise the gods," I mutter under my breath once I spot the two knights entering through gates of the Keep. I dismiss my handmaiden and head towards them.

Gwayne and Criston spot me, the former's hardened face softens. I offer them a smile and clasp my hands, "very good. The Mother has delivered you whole." I nod in regard, "ser Criston."

The said man nods, "my-"

"You would greet another man before your husband, woman?"

I turn to Gwayne. His jaw clenches. I hold back a grin and pucker my lower lip instead, "I only wished to thank the Hand for returning my love to me with no missing limbs."

He scoffs. His horse trots in place. Gwayne does not enjoy that. He very much did not enjoy that.

"I should thank your husband for doing the same for me, my lady," Criston replies, making me turn back to him.

I smile. Gwayne dismounts. "Then I rejoice in knowing you both will return safely so long as you have each other."

A stable boy comes to get my husband's ride. He spares me no glance when he walks passed me. I turn to my feet with a chuckle, rubbing my belly that bubbled in excitement, "welcome home, ser." We share a nod before I chase after my lord.

He is walking incredibly fast.

I gather my skirts, "my lord!"

Gwayne does not stop. He only continues to storm to our shared chambers. When he reaches the stairs, I break into a sprint, laughing as I did, "lord husband!"

Needless to say, my calls fall deaf on his ears. I have to catch my breath once I enter the room.

"RETURN ME?!"

I close the door behind me, eyes not leaving my armored lover as he paces around the room. My breath hitches at the sight of him. Oh, how I missed the clanking of his steel uniform.

Gwayne turns back to me, pointing a harsh finger to the ground, "WOULD THAT I BE THE ONE RETURNED-

My eyes sparkle at his vexed expression.

"OH! IF YOU ONLY KNEW HOW COLE WAS-"

I reach for his breastplate, "twas a jest."

"Well, you jest wrongly," he glares, swatting my hands away. I press my lips together to suppress my smile. He charges towards the vanity, "you now not how insufferable that Dornishman is."

He begins to undo the cuffs on his forearm. Oh, by the Seven, he was actually upset. He never removed his own armor, not when I was present. I sigh, "Gwayne-"

"Do not-" he pulls roughly on his sleeve "-address me, woman."

I purse my lips and grab his shoulder plate. He shrugs me off dramatically and I reel back in momentary shock, only to huff and grab him by his steely collar.

He glares at me.

I raise my brows, mouth opening to start a new argument. But his face, marked with hurt, though dramatic, makes my heart tinge. I decide not to pursue it.

He recognizes this and lifts his nose. His brows quirk in challenge.

I tilt my head and sigh, "begging your pardon, my lord," I brush my hands down to the sigil on his heart, "tis distasteful to speak on matters I know not of."

Gwayne stares at me for a moment. I peer at him through my lashes, absentmindedly drawing shapes on his chest, "I submit. I wish not to quarrel."

He does not reply, but he visibly relaxes, save for the way his brows knit, "my lips."

My eyes fall to his mouth where a cut laid on the bottom corner, "yes. You've been cut." I pull away to grab some ointment for it, "we shall treat your lip again after your bath."

He watches as I go through the vials on the table. Just as I open the lid of the salve, I feel his rigid body press against my back. I look over my shoulder, gazing up at his face as he embraces me.

"You have not kissed them," he mutters, "you insult me twice, wife."

Oh, what darling. I pretend to think, "I thought I was woman."

"Wrong again," he takes the vial from me, setting it down with little attention. He turns me around and traps me against the vanity, "my woman."

He wastes no more time keeping our lips separate. Gwayne picks me by the waist and sits me on the table as his lips reacquaint themselves with mine. My body melts against him, my legs part to welcome him between and my hands sneak their way into his nape.

He pulls away, "damn this helmet."

I giggle but stop him when he tries to rid himself of it. He raises a brow then sighs, "not again."

"What?" I laugh innocently, "it suits you well."

He shakes his head but makes no further move to rid himself of his steel hat. He does however begin to bunch my skirts up. I mumble, "my tin soldier."

He groans. "Perhaps I'll fuck you in my helmet, vixen," he wraps my legs around him, "see how you like it."

I gleefully retort, "so long as you fuck me, ser-" he begins to kiss my neck, "I will be- OH!"

Gwayne sharply pulls away, face concerned.

I cover my mouth with my hands, "I'd nearly forgotten!"

He can do nothing but watch as I wrangle out of our position and shoo him away. He grumbles as I go through a drawer, "I got you a gift."

"Must you give it to me now?"

I laugh and turn back to him once I have it in my hand, "I find you will regret it if I do not give it to you sooner."

His brow quirks in interest.

I grin and motion with my head, "to the bed with you."

Gwayne is sat on the side of the bed in an instant. He eagerly looks at me. I saunter over with a look of mischief. His eyes widen when I kneel by his feet. At this point, he knew exactly what my surprise was and he simply reaches a hand out to me.

I place a bell in his palm. Gwayne releases a deep breath that breaks into an excited chuckle, "oh, my girl, you might regret this."

I simply look at him with a smile.

He stares at me, knowing then that our game had started. His lips part infinitesimally as he basks in the power he now had. He rings the bell, "you may speak your mind, pet."

"Thank you, ser."

Gwayne rings it again, "get me out of this fucking armor."

"Yes, ser," I say, coming to my feet to undo his top. I feel his eyes on me as I do so.

He releases a breath, hands coming to my side, "I have free rein on your body, do I not?"

"Of course, ser."

"Mmm," he rubs my ass then smacks it, "strip for me," he rings the bell.

I turn to him, "after I-"

"Now," he blurts.

I pull away from him and begin to undo the ties of my dress. It is a slight struggle but not impossible. Once my dress drops to the floor and I'm left in my shift, he rings his bell, "stop."

I still where I stand.

"And your smallclothes," he rings.

I oblige, pulling them and letting them drop to the floor. He reaches a hand out, ringing again, "come to me."

I take his hand and he spreads his legs. I sit on his lap and he rings, "you may proceed, pet."

I continue to undo his armor, "of course, ser."

Ring. "Kiss me as you do so."

I do not speak, only follow the command. I kiss him intermittently as I finally remove a shoulder plate. It is considerably harder to do than undoing my dress because of all the latches. I decide to prioritize undressing him, but it seems that was a mistake.

He snakes his hand up my skirt and squeezes my inner thigh, "my lips are wanting yours, pet."

"I am doing my best, se-"

"Well, try harder."

Gwayne thoroughly enjoys my struggle and unabashedly complains when I am not kissing him. I begin to grow increasingly frustrated when I prioritize kissing him yet finds it in him to complain about how hot his armor is. At some point, I begin throwing the metal I do get off him angrily to the ground.

His chuckle is deep, "careful, pet. That is your lord's armor."

"Fuck your armor," I grunt, chucking his cuffs to the floor.

He laughs and licks his lips.

"I was given permission to speak my mind, was I not? I mutter, sliding off his lap to undo the cuffs on his legs.

"I did not give you leave to leave my lap," he stares at me.

I glare at him and sit back down. He examines me for a moment, rings his bell, and chirps, "get off."

I sigh and stand.

"Uh-ta-ta-ta-ta," he grabs my arm and raises a finger. He looks up at me, shrugging, "what do we say?"

I suck in a breath and force a smile, "of course, ser. Thank you, ser."

"Good," he raises the bell before ringing it, "proceed."

I drop to my knees and continue to rid him of his wretched armor. He brushes my hair back and rubs my lips, "indeed again, you you are not kissing me."

I huff, looking up at him. His eyes sparkle as I say, "a thousand apologies, ser." I attempt to do the impossible, kissing him while undoing the cuffs on his shins. Amazingly, I eventually complete the task and do so with another huff.

Gwayne rings his bell and knocks on his helmet, "you missed one, pet."

I sit on his lap and place my hands on his shoulders. He watches me as I frown. I look at him pleadingly but he allows me no satisfaction. I have no choice but to take his helmet off. He snakes an arm around me, "hard, that one, was it?"

I place his helmet on the night stand and kiss him, "I wish to please my lord."

He smirks, "then shall you be rewarded." He carelessly chucks the bell behind him, causing me gasp, "Gwayne!"

"I enjoyed our little game but find I no longer have the patience for it," he grabs my thighs and turns me on him.

"That's why we keep losing the bell, you keep throwing it!"

"Fuck the bell," he quips, making me straddle him, "I want to fuck my wife."

The next thing I know, my dress is being ripped off and he's hastily undoing his breeches. I cannot help my laugh as I shift atop him to free himself, and once he is, I grind on his hardened cock, making him grit his teeth. I bask in the feel of him after removing his shirt. By the gods, how I've missed the feel of his chest on my palms.

He allows me to dote on his scars and freckles. I could weep at his beauty. He then sinks his head into the crook of my neck and I wrap my arms around him.

"My wife," he licks a stripe to my jaw, "I dream about your skin."

I brush my fingers up his hair and tug gently, "Gwyane."

"I miss your taste," he mutters in between kisses. He tightens his hold on me, "I miss your taste, miss your skin, miss your lips, my love," he rakes his fingers up my back, "did you miss me?"

I moan as I sink myself down on him. He squeezes my shoulders and drops his jaw.

I grab his cheeks and press our foreheads together, "missed you so much— missed your touch, missed having you inside me, missed your smart mouth."

He chuckles and kisses me, "missed yours." Gwayne begins to buck into me, arms tight around my waist.

I grunt and bring his face into my chest, throwing my head back as I ride him. He sucks on my skin, intent to leave evidence of him on me. I tangle my fingers into his hair then pepper kisses on his forehead. He smelled of sweat and dirt and ash; I relish every bit of him.

I whimper when he sinks his teeth into the side of my throat before suckling. I clench around him in response. I pull his hair and speak his name. He replies with a moan, grazing me with his teeth once more.

My riding becomes harder. The sound of our breath and the utterance of each other's names mingle with the creak of the bed and the wet sound of slapping skin. He grabs my hips, flesh spilling between his fingers, and bites his nails into me. He huffs, guiding me into faster and rougher pace.

I lean my forehead on his once more, darting my tongue to his lips. He chases my tongue, catching it between his teeth, then does the same to my lips. I whimper when I taste blood. He licks the iron off and trails kisses to my ear, "come on my cock, baby, want you to come with me."

I whimper out and nod, "Gwayne."

"Come on," he mutters, "come, my love."

Pressure builds inside me, and we soon both grow erratic. There is a thick silence before guttural cries reverberate through the room. My body comes alive. The thick, hot, pleasure is so intense my breath is knocked out of my lungs and I quickly feel myself seize up.

My husband, ever dutiful, sinks his nails into my thighs and fucks out every last bit of the melting sensation from the both of us. A hoarse noise rips from my throat and makes my toes curl into my soles. Gwayne even overcompensates and plows into me until I'm reeling. I knew it was too much for him too, and so I supply him with the shaky whimpers I knew he desperately craves.

I feel lightheaded by the time he stops. He rests his head on me before finally collapsing on his back, taking me down with him. His chest rises and falls rapidly, our skin now sticky with sweat.

His hands rest on my thighs. I bring mine to both his shoulders. I pant against his jaw, "that was intense."

He hums, "well," he huffs, "you missed me too much."

"No," I nuzzle into his neck and draw shapes on his skin, "you missed me too much."

He brushes his nose against my head, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I didn't miss you at all."

"Good. I didn't miss you either."

He rubs my skin, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Out of nowhere, he whines in a high pitched voice, "OH Gwayne- OH! You feel so gOOD- AH AH-"

I swat him and with a dropped jaw. I lift my head and glare at him, "I did NOT say that!"

Gwayne's eyes fall on me, lips pursing. He brings one arm behind his head and takes the other to my cheek. My belly flutters at the sight of him. He was beautiful like this, shining after our love making. His rough thumb rubs my face, "pity." He brushes my hair back, "I'm going to have to fix that."

I roll my eyes at him but I am unable to fight back my smile.

He smiles back. His eyes soften and his voice is careful, "... did you miss me, my love?"

"Gods," I nearly roll my eyes at the back of my head, "oh, my sweet boy. My sweet pathetic boy who I so terribly missed."

He grins. The lines by on his cheeks only deepen when he laughs.

My stomach rolls again. I speak in earnest, capturing his cheek, "every day, I thank the Seven that I bask in your beauty."

Gwayne's eyes rove over me. He rubs my arm, "we should have another babe."

I scoff, "Gwayne-"

[rinhaler]

DEATH IS NO MORE !

you know you shouldn't be here, right? what would possess you to visit an underground fight club? one of the fighters is kinda cute though...

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ underground fighter!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: ty penny for beta reading again! picturing sukuna like this art by @innaillus bc i have had nothing else on my mind for days. Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, violence, blood ♡, daddy!kink, size difference ♡, age gap, degradation, fingering, orgasm denial, pussy spanks, dacryphilia, finger sucking, vaginal sex, choking ♡, creampie, squirting ♡, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby). Words: 10k

As your heels snap against the pavement, you can almost feel the pulsing bass from the music surge from your toes and throughout your entire nervous system. The music is loud enough to hear, even from a distance, and it only gets louder as you step closer and closer to the abandoned warehouse.

You shouldn’t be here.

The voice is yours, internally. Though it feels like an out of body experienced as you venture head first towards a destination you have no business being anywhere near. The music muddies your thoughts. It’s confusing you, deeply.

Is there a dress code?

That doesn’t matter, because you shouldn’t be here.

The bass is hypnotic. That pounding bass that makes you feel weak and ethereal all in one dizzying bout. It’s like you’re going to a rave, though you’re not even close to being dressed the part. You’ve been at work all day. The last thing you should be doing is trespassing into a building that has been off limits for five years.

You just couldn’t resist, this.

Not with the rumours flying around and the hushed whispers of secrecy luring you in to investigate for yourself.

With the double doors in sight, you finally see that the entrance is being manned. Is it security or just a ticket holder? You aren’t sure you want to find out. They might take one look at you and shoo you away. There’s no way you can leave until you get what you came for.

You slip out of sight as you see another pair of men get out of a car parked near the entrance and approach. Your breathing is egregious, though you try to calm it. The adrenaline swirling through your every vein and muscle is enough to make you pass out. But the agonising desire to enter and see the truth for yourself is holding you steady.

$100 for a ticket.

“Christ.” you whisper to yourself.

You put your hand in your pocket and fish out your purse. As you open it and begin to look, you halt. The way your hands are trembling is abnormal, even for being this worked up. The pumping of your heart transfers to your brain. The pink, mushy organ pounds dramatically against the inside of your skull, and really, you think melodic beat of the music inside must be slithering its way into the creases of your braincells.

There’s a pain behind your eyes. You feel a migraine coming on and you’re all too familiar with the agonising feeling as you often leave your work days suffering from them.

You deepen your breaths in a bid to steel yourself. And eventually, you find the money to pay the fee. So you wait, patiently, for the other two men to enter the warehouse before you reveal yourself from the shadows. There’s an air of confidence to you as you approach the entrance.

Though it fades, slightly, as the man holds his hand up like a crossing guard.

“Women don’t come around here,” he starts, checking a clipboard that looks too small in his comically large hands. He flips through the pages and then looks at you again. “You’re not on the list.”

“I have the fucking money.” you tell him, slapping it on top of his stupid clipboard hard enough for him to almost drop it. He tries to stop you as you attempt to barge by him, though it isn’t a strict action.

More like a warning.

“It’s not a sight a lady should see, I think.” he tells you, still putting your hard earned money into a tin of other generous donations, you expect. His eyes focus on your own as he continues to speak. “You’re rich. Expensive clothes… shouldn’t have worn those here. Gets messy. Be careful.” he tells you. And with that, you enter the warehouse and heed his warning.

You walk slowly, but with purpose. A chill stabs down your spine as you approach a flight of stairs a group of men are running down. They wolf whistle upon seeing you and it curdles in your stomach. You try to keep your head held high as you climb and follow the sound of that intoxicating bass. Wherever the music is coming from is surely the source of the action, too.

The time of day is indicative of the lighting. It’s pitch black outside and it it’s even darker, still, in the warehouse. Though the moonlight manages to break in through the shattered windows enough to illuminate your path.

There’s a smell that you’re beginning to notice that invades your senses. A potent stench that is so specifically masculine and territorial. It’s sweat. Blood, too.

Once you get to the top of the stairs, there are double doors with a red light bleeding through the cracks. The music is louder, too, as well as the vociferous shouting being contained solely by the big, heavy duty doors.

And now, truly, you worry things have gone too far. The doors part and you slink into the shadows, still approaching without hesitation. You’re scared. God, terrified, really. But the adrenaline keeps you from retreating. There’s one goal you have in mind, and once complete, you can return back to your peaceful, suburban life.

A man holds the door as he waits for a friend to leave with him. You watch them walk away together, bragging about their earnings before you slip inside inconspicuously.

The red light contrasts from the rest of the building. And you think your retinas might explode from the change, you don’t let it divert your attention, though. But it’s hard to deny how distracted you are.

As the atmosphere has changed you begin to feel heady from the scent of sweat and testosterone. You do your best to continue undetected as you try to keep to the edges of the crowd. But a few eyes find you. Nudging and laughing when they see a woman, God forbid, enter their sacred male space. You notice there’s no malice mostly. It’s more leering and ogling despite doing all you can to not give them any attention or feed into their sex drive.

But you scream.

Scream could even be an understatement as you feel a tight squeeze on your upper arm flesh yank you away from the crowd and into the background of the room. Your adrenaline seems to die the instant one red eye matching the ambient lighting filling the room like a brothel in a red light district stare into yours.

Half of his face is covered by some sort of black mask.

Protecting his battle wounds, you assume.

There are a few laughs and stares before they’re pulled back to the main attraction. There’s a feeling of embarrassment rushing through you, but you can barely dwell on it as you look up at the man who had dragged you away so carelessly.

He’s easily the tallest man you’ve ever met. At least 6’5 and towering above you like you’re a puny child as you try and stand confidently beneath him. But the little gasp you emit when he bends down to whisper in your ear gives you away, instantly. He smirks, knowing just how scared you are. He knows just how worried you are and how out of your depth you are.

“And just what is a fragile little thing like you doing in my club?” he asks, a tantalising lilt in his words that would have your knees folding like outdoor furniture if you didn’t have one reason and one reason alone for being here. He pulls away from your ear, an intimidating glare staring back at you as he waits for an answer. “You don’t look like you can fight. Not that I’d allow it, anyway.” he tells you.

“I’m looking for someone.” you blurt out, unsure if you should have said that or kept it to yourself. It’s too late, now, and you see a sadistic smile transform his ravenous expression into one of sheer entertainment.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’ve got a boyfriend you’re worried about fighting here.” he laughs, and it doesn’t go unnoticed how his eyes move from your face to your breasts. They’re covered, entirely. The decision to wear a turtleneck for work has come back to bite you as the sweltering heat feels enough to knock you unconscious.

It’s suffocating.

He isn’t really looking at your tits, however. His eyes instead seem to hone in on the silver necklace you’re wearing. And you can see how his eyes squint as he tries to think of anyone fighting here who’s initial begins with M before letting his dirty mind race at the thought of the letter slipping between your cleavage had you opted to wear something a little more revealing.

“You look like a cop, sweetheart. Not a good place for you to be all by yourself.” he informs you. A cop? You hadn’t even thought about how you’d stand out in that way. “I don’t need the fuzz poking around here, what do you want?” he asks, his voice a little more pointed and venomous as he raises your necklace with a single finger to toy with it.

If you weren’t so frozen in fear, you would have backed away and hid your necklace down your sweater. But you were scared, statuesque. The only movement you were able to perform was moving your lips.

A pretty trait for you to possess, he thinks.

“My brother is here, I think.” you tell him, calmly, hoping your honesty will earn you some favour in his eyes. His eyebrow quirks as he thinks about you possessing a family resemblance to anyone here. “He’s underage.”

He smiles at that. The pieces suddenly all fall into place as he knows exactly who you’re talking about. And he parts space between you both, grabbing the collar of your white, wool coat and pulling you along with him. The two of you get through the crowd with ease until you’re standing at the front.

A shriek leaves you as the losing opponent hurtles towards you, though your self-appointed escort gets in his way before your clothes can become ruined by the blood that has now smeared on your saviour’s skin. You’re sure he’s thankful that he wore a black vest so that you can’t really see the stains on it. Realistically, he probably doesn’t care, you think.

He wouldn’t be running a fight club if he cared about something as tedious as stains.

As he moves out of the way to reveal the victor, your own blood begins to simmer and spill from you. Megumi raises his arms triumphantly, spitting a glob of blood onto the ground next to the wounded man he’s evidently just beaten to a bloody, unconscious puddle. And you could tear his head off with your bare teeth with the rage that you feel.

But you can’t.

Not when the man who led you here steps into the makeshift ring of people surrounding them and hands him his earnings. And your brother smiles, gratefully, as he accepts and counts it.

“There’s someone here to see you, kid.” he tells him, tilting his head in your direction. Your foot taps against the dirty warehouse floor as you wait for him to notice you. And boy does he notice you. “Oh, are you that scared of her?” he laughs, noticing all of the colour draining from Megumi’s face as he processes the fact that you’re here. That you’re really here.

“The fuck are you doing here?!” he asks, running up to you and attempting to conceal the money as best he can. But it’s too late, you snatch it from his hand and look at him with contempt.

“Me? What are you doing here?! You’re seventeen! You’re not Tyler fucking Durden, Megumi.” you slap him upside the head and drag him away from the crowd. “I’m furious, I don’t even know where to start with you.” you tell him as you approach the heavy doors that are keeping this disgusting little community trapped in the sweaty, blood soaked room.

“Get off.” he shakes himself loose. “I left my stuff in Sukuna’s office.” he announces, leaving before you give him permission. You huff, following him up the steel stairs as you continue your onslaught of verbal abuse and anger at his sheer stupidity.

He should see a doctor, really. But you worry he’ll get in trouble if the police get involved. And he might end off worse, still, if he rats out this place and gets everyone else in trouble. It’s too much, you know you’ll have to cover for him.

You could cry, now. But you aren’t sure if it’s anger or genuine upset. And honestly, you don’t want him to see you cry over this. Weakness is not something you need him to see right now, you want to keep it together. You’re his guardian and you can’t be soft with him just because he’s your brother.

He picks up his gym bag from a locker in the room. Your eyes are laser focused on him, all of the trust you felt towards him is long gone. And now, you aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to take your eyes off him again.

“Megumi… how did you even get involved with this?” you ask him, earning nothing more than an infuriated grunt as if you have no right asking. How dare you care about him and his wellbeing when you’re all each other have? You want to scream, to fucking scream at him for being such an idiot. “I thought you were getting bullied at school. I asked you if—”

“Drop it. Can we just go?” he asks.

“Tsk.” you kiss your teeth. Your gaze suddenly stolen as the man you can only presume is Sukuna walks into the office like he owns the place. He does. You close the distance between yourself and Megumi as his sadistic boss sits on a comfy looking chair behind an old battered desk. “Give me your phone. Go wait in the car. Do not go anywhere.” you warn him as you hand him the car keys.

He sighs, placing his phone in your hand before turning to leave. You don’t look at him, though, too focused on Sukuna to even pay him any mind.

Your blood continues to boil, bubbling under the surface of your skin as you look at Sukuna. A smarmy smirk plastered on his face as he kicks his feet up onto the desk. So, Megumi leaves. He knows better than to push you when you’re this pissed.

“Before you start, princess,” Sukuna stands back up and circles around the desk. Your eyes vibrate with fury as you watch him, backing up as he gets too close. “I didn’t force him to do this.”

“Don’t call me princess.” you tell him, shutting down the cutesy pet name in an instant the minute you get an opening to speak. You rest you hand on your hip as you point at him furiously. It’s rude, you know it’s rude, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not after seeing your little brother like that. “He’s just a kid. I don’t want him involved in this stuff, I’m trying to be a good role model and you’re fucking everything up. He’s not coming back, ban him.”

“Fuck no.” he chortles. “He might be a kid but he’s good. I pay well. ‘n I like him, I do. He’s a moody little brat but he makes me laugh and earns me a shit ton. I’m not banning him for you. Or anyone.”

“Maybe I should call the police, see what they have to say about all of this.” you threaten, immediately regretting it, when the smile drops from his face and is replaced with something akin to bemusement. He hadn’t expected you to threaten him. But the incredulous stare is soon replaced by another smile.

“You wouldn’t risk getting Megumi in trouble… nice try though.” he speaks, leaning back against his desk and crossing one ankle over the other as he folds his arms. He’s thinking. Genuinely thinking of a way to compromise. “What do you do?”

“I’m… a doctor.” you tell him. Earning a set of raised eyebrows and an amused scoff as he looks you over once more. He supposes it explains the fancy clothes and snooty attitude.

But—

“You’re too young to be a doctor, aren’t you?” he wonders.

“I’m a primary care physician.” you tell him. He nods in understanding, but you’re confused now. You shake away his questions and his interest in you before staring at him again with intent. “This needs to stop. I’m not going to call the police but I’m not letting my brother come back here, it’s too dangerous. He’s a child.”

“He’s a man, you’re babying him. He made three grand tonight, he’s earning money and staying out of trouble because he has an outlet for his anger.” Sukuna tells you. The amount of money he’s made surprises you, and you’re holding it in your coat pocket right now. He’s going to be down $100 after you take it out of his earnings, though. But still. Even you can’t deny that it’s impressive. “Stuck up princess. Snooty doctor. Think you can come in my fuckin’ club and tell me what to do? Fuck that.” Sukuna claims.

He doesn’t say anything else as he waits for you to speak. But, truthfully, you’re still thinking about Megumi. The fact that he needs an outlet for his anger is worrisome. You’ve tried to get him to see a therapist, but he isn’t interested in the least.

It’s been hard being a single parent to him when you’re too selfish and irresponsible to even look after yourself, let alone a teenage boy. He probably thinks you’re useless. You have no control over him, really. All you do is make sure he’s fed and has a place to sleep and get his school work done.

But after discovering this, you’re sure he hasn’t even been bothering to attend school.

“Oi.” Sukuna speaks, stealing your stare again as you’re finally brought out of your troubled gaze. “You’re a sheltered little princess, aren’t you? A place like this is just full of scum to you.”

“I don’t care about this.” you laugh, minimally, not really seeing the funny side but you have nothing else to offer by way of expression. He hesitates a little, seeing the defeated look in your eye. “The injuries and psychological damage these places can cause…”

“Not everyone’s got a fancy college education like you, girl.” he tells you, patronisingly, as if you don’t know that. But he doesn’t let you interrupt. “Some people need a quick buck to get out of trouble. Other’s like the thrill. But who the fuck are you to come into my club and tell us all we’re wrong? Comin’ in here in your doctor clothes… looking down your nose at us.”

“That’s not—”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what you’re doin’, sweetheart.” he continues. “You get to sit behind a desk all day and tell people what pills to take to feel better and then go home to your cosy house in the suburbs without a care in the world.”

“Don’t fucking patronise me.” you warn him, though you don’t have the muscle or means to back it up. He reminds you a lot of how your dad used to be. You didn’t particularly take shit from him, and you certainly won’t be taking it from Sukuna if you can help it. “If you’re letting a seventeen year old walk away with three grand, I’m sure you’re making a lot more money than I am behind my desk. I work hard. You’re lining your pockets from other people’s pain.”

“Only a little,” he smirks at that, knowing you’re right but not entirely. “I fight. I bleed.”

And you scoff. It’s so fucking archaic and you can’t help but pace around with your hands on your hips as you try and decide where to even start with that. What can you say, really? Congratulations? No, definitely not. You stop in your tracks as you realise how close he is to you, now, deciding he wanted to close the gap between the two of you while your mind was elsewhere.

You breathe a little heavier as you fall backwards onto the couch behind you while he towers above you. His eyes rake over your body as he drinks you in. The slight fear lingering below the surface, shrouded by a cloud of false confidence as you do all you can to not succumb to his intimidation.

His arms almost cage you in.

Almost.

He’d let you free yourself if you tried to escape.

But you aren’t trying.

You’re just staring into his eye.

And he likes that.

“Watch me.” he orders. The sentence is soft but with a hard, seductive edge. It’s an offer despite it sounding like a command. You aren’t sure what he’s asking you to watch but your heart rate is imploring you to decline, whatever it may be. He tilts his head, it’s barely noticeable, and somehow you do notice. You notice the way his eye flits from your eyes to your lips. Not once, multiple times. He has no shame, he doesn’t care that you know he’s looking. He doesn’t act on it, anyway. “Watch me fight.”

“Pardon?” you ask, instantly. Bewildered that he would even dare to dream that you’d do something so idiotic. Your brother is waiting, patiently, for you to take him home. Unless he’s stolen your car, of course. But you’d like to think he knows he’s in enough trouble than to do something so stupid.

“You’ve never seen a fight. Watch the best at work, you might change your opinion. Watch me.” he repeats.

He watches as your eyes glaze over with a watery sheen, smirking. There is a breeze left in the wake of him quickly freeing your body from his caging arms and heading towards the entrance to his office. Your breathing is intense and your hands begin to shake. You think to text Megumi and check he’s okay, before remembering that you have his phone.

You look over your shoulder to see Sukuna leaning over the railing. He’s yelling about something but your ears are ringing in your confusion. The music isn’t helping, either. You look down at your phone to check the time, not even really taking it in before you place both Megumi’s and your own in each of your pockets.

Sukuna returns, entering with a cool swagger before leaning on the edge of his desk again.

“You’ve got ten minutes to decide.” he tells you.

Decide?

You’ve already decided. There’s no way you’re sticking around to watch him beat someone within an inch of their life. Or vice versa if his opponent proves to be too much. But with his physique and confidence, you doubt he’ll lose. And almost as if he’s read your mind, he smirks.

“I’m going to win.” he informs you, a cocksure grin saturating his lips as he drinks in your reaction to his words. You cross a leg over the other and fold your arms, still determined to remain and appear defiant as you listen to him. He can sense you’re weakening resolve, though. “I always win, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” you remind him, and he tuts in response. You can’t tell him what to do. You can try, but he won’t listen. And he hears the wavering in your words. Your desire to appear cold and callous towards him crumbling the longer you spend time in such close proximity to him.

“I think you like it.” he tells you, smiling. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m thinking.” you tell him in turn, scowling as you decide whether or not to leave right now or actually think this through. If you leave, you know your pride won’t allow you to change your mind.

“Don’t have all night for you’re thinkin’, doll.” he speaks. “Oh… I know, how about we make a little wager?”

“No.”

“Awe, c’mon, live a little.” he laughs, menially. He smirks as he hears you gasp whilst lifting you up like you’re nothing. He sits you down on his desk and for some reason you find yourself tightly wrapping your legs around his waist. Your chest heaves, panicked from the process. You aren’t sure how that happened and you can’t seem to shake any of it away. Not when your fingernails are digging into his biceps and your lips are ghosting each other’s. What is he doing? “How about if I lose, I’ll tell Megumi he can’t come around here anymore.”

“You said you’ll win.”

He smirks, at that. Scarred hands nip and grab at your entirely covered flesh. He wishes he could just rip the material off you right here, right now. But he wouldn’t feel right about sending you to your car in torn clothing, telling your little brother exactly what kept you busy for so long.

“That, I did…” he speaks as if recollecting an ancient memory. But he looks at you, eyes traversing your body again. “So what—”

“’m not betting with you. I know you’re gonna win.” you tell him, moving your head back slightly so your lips are no longing tracing each other. Instead, you’re looking at him intently. “You’re just trying to get me to agree to something that I won’t be able to back out of. ‘m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not stupid.” he agrees. He tucks some hair behind your ear and grabs your chin so that you can’t break your stare from his own. “I know we both want the same thing right now, though. That pride will do you no good, y’know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie, feigning ignorance as the heat between your legs begins to pool and seep into your panties. You hope he doesn’t notice. God you hope he doesn’t fucking feel it. You hope that your trousers will protect you, the fight should be starting soon. “I’m taking my brother home… but I hope you enjoy your little fight.”

“You’re not going anywhere or you would have left already.” he tells you, matter-of-fact. “The things I could say… I’m gonna say it all after I win.”

“I won’t be here. ‘n I’m not giving you my number.”

“You’ll be in the front fucking row watching me.” he sneers.

You inhale a sharp breath as he forcefully moves your head. A finger hooks into the collar of your turtleneck, lazily pulling it downward to reveal the bare skin of your neck. His lips are close, breath dancing over the expanse of your skin. It’s a battle to withhold the shudder that is creeping through your veins. It makes your eyes water, a tear threatens to spill but you refuse to let it. You weld your eyes shut as he continues to torment you, and they appear even more watery when you open them again. The way your body trembles is harder to mask, though it’s nearly imperceptible as you accept you need to release it. All you can do is hope that he hasn’t noticed.

But he does.

The intensity of your breathing increases as you think he might kiss your neck. Your eyes flutter shut in preparation, but all he does is tease. And when you feel a near empty chuckle fan across your neck, your eyes widen once more.

“It’s time, princess.” he tells you, pulling away completely. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, heading towards the exit to his office before turning back to face you. “Come.”

And like you’re a voice activated toy, you follow him. He quick steps down the stairs while you struggle in your heels. You cling to the railing as you descend, and he waits patiently for you at the bottom.

He’s agnate to a God in this warehouse. You see how people respect and admire him as he enters the room. People part for him so that he can walk through with ease with you in tow. You’re really going to watch an authentic fight.

You wonder how different it will be in comparison to movies. You’re scared, shaking, but part of you is telling you that you need to see it. You need to see the state that Megumi could one day end up in if you don’t scold him correctly.

“Should I go easy on him, sweetheart?” he asks, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “She’s going to decide your fate tonight, listen up.” Sukuna tells his opponent. You want to kill him yourself for drawing everyone’s attention to you. You struggle to find words, mouth drying every time it opens.

“Just… don’t kill him.” you shrug. “But don’t get yourself killed, either.”

He laughs, shrugging his shoulders too. Neither of them look scared, though you suppose that’s the point. Neither of them would be doing this if they didn’t think they could win. They wouldn’t be here if they were afraid of getting hurt.

“She wants me to go easy on you…” Sukuna smirks.

You watch, nervously, as they circle around the ring for a while. He looks at you, briefly, as you fiddle with your necklace as you try and occupy your mind.

A ragged breath leaves you as they both lunge at each other. The way Sukuna dodges and weaves away from each and every attempt that should be hitting him is almost like watching a beautiful ballet.

It’s art, here.

Between these walls and amongst this audience. It is a true art form that is celebrated and enjoyed. The casualties don’t matter, not even a little. Everyone is a willing participant, even you, now. You could have left but decided not to.

It’s for Megumi, you tell yourself.

You need to be better and act better for him. And you can’t possibly do that without the knowledge of how truly dangerous this can be.

But now, seeing it for yourself, you’re starting to understand.

Sukuna is strong. Heavy fists affix themselves to his opponents face again and again until he’s on the ground. Blood pours from the man’s nose and you think he might suffocate from lost teeth and gurgling blood pooling in his throat.

And Sukuna… he’s been starved of this.

You start to think that maybe he doesn’t fight as regularly as he claims. It seems too easy for him, now. No one can beat him, so what’s the point? But he has missed this feeling. The feeling of seeing blood gush from an adversary who whole-heartedly believed they could take him on.

He takes pleasure in it, violence. Particularly the brand inflicted by him. He profits from it regularly, but this is a rare treat nowadays. He’s happy to sit in his office and let idiots do what idiots do as long as his pockets and wallet fill with each event.

This fight… it was on a whim.

Was it just to impress you?

He straddles his opponent as he repeatedly smashes the same fist into his face again and again and again. And he’s laughing. It’s maniacal, borderline insane laughter as you see blood spatter and clots form and congeal against the poor man’s skin.

And why…

Why are you loving this?

You can practically feel hearts and glitter adorning your eyes as you watch on in horror, unable to turn away. You’re mesmerised by it. You should be ashamed, really, you’re meant to be a doctor.

If you were a good person, you’d be breaking this up. You’d be rushing to the man’s side and calling an ambulance to help him. Instead of watching on in astonishment, you should be doing all you can to keep him alive after such a vicious assault. But instead, you’ve sunken to the balls of your feet so that you can be on their level and watch each and every punch land with excruciating detail. You don’t want it to stop. You could watch this forever.

Watch him forever.

You’re sick.

This is sick.

“Sukuna!” you yell, standing upright again and looking down at him. He stops short of landing one final blow to his opponents bulging and split nose so that he can look up at you. There’s worry in your eyes, and it makes his brows furrow. His eyes squint as he examines you. He isn’t sure how to read you or what you might be thinking. But he realises worry isn’t the only thing lingering behind those glimmering, wide eyes.

Something else entirely resides there that he’s longed to see since the moment he set eyes on you.

“Sorry, I got carried away.” he speaks down to the near dead man beneath him. “Were you done or did you want to keep going?”

“D… Don—”

“Thaaaaat’s great.” he responds to the man’s choked attempt to end the fight. Sukuna jumps to his feet, barely a scratch on him, and walks by you without looking back. You hasten behind him, almost unable to keep up in your stupid shoes. You see a man hand him something before walking away. You scrunch your brows as you look between them both.

Oh, he’s been paid.

He reaches the top of the stairs to his office and holds the door open for you to pass through. You duck by him, hiding in the room like you shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t. You feel so small and inconsequential when you’re near him.

It’s his height, you realise.

It’s effortless intimidation. He’s a giant and you have to crane your neck just to look up at him when he’s close to you. His giant frame and bulging muscles don’t put you at ease, either. If you make him mad enough, you wonder how far he’d go. Would he use his strength to his advantage? Maybe he’d just take pity on you.

“You’re still here.” he rasps, locking the door behind himself and closing the blinds to the room. He likes the privacy as he counts his money. It excites you, for some reason, to see so much in a big fat wad. He looks up at you briefly before focusing back on it. “You liked it.”

“No.”

“Yeah ya did,” he laughs. You watch him as he collects a heavy looking bag from another locker in the room. It’s different to the one Megumi used. It looks shinier, newer. Sturdier. “I can tell you liked it.”

“Well, I’m going now.” you start, turning to walk away before he stretches out an arm to stop you in your tracks. He walks you backwards until your ass collides into the edge of his desk. He doesn’t pick you up, though. He just sizes you up, slowly, purposefully. And what a pathetic size you are in comparison to him. “Megumi needs me…” you whisper, meekly.

His presence is truly all consuming as he lords above you. You’re trapped between his large frame and the tattered old desk that resides in this seedy office. He could afford something nicer. But what would be the point if the place gets raided?

“We wanted the same thing earlier,” he starts. His voice quiet but commanding, still. You look between his lips and his pressuring gaze. He smiles, at that, he can see the way your mind is running rampant with thoughts of him. The dirty criminal who wants to fuck you on his desk. “Bet ya want it even more now.”

“N-No.”

“Yes.” he argues, placing a bloody hand on your pristine coat and making a mess of it. His hand snakes around to your waist, eventually. You gasp when you feel him tug your body closer to his by your belt loops, grinning as the little noise you make hits his ears. “Stutterin’ over yours words and making pretty sounds for me, sweetheart. Did you get all excited from seeing the blood? Bet ya did… bet you’re wet from seein’ daddy get violent.”

You gulp, heartily, your breathing gets heavier the more he speaks. His words rush straight to your cunt and you can barely ground yourself. The only thing keeping you from floating is your fingers curling around the edge of the desk as he continues to tease you.

“You’re fucking frigid.” he continues. Your eyes begin to water as he undoes the button on your pants and goes to pull down the zipper. You grab his hands to stop him, though it’s in vain. “Why are you so frigid, huh? When was the last time you had a good, hard, fuck?” he asks you, each word dripping like venom in a bid to make you squirm.

“That’s none of your—”

“Stop being such a bitch.” he tells you, slight laughter leaving him as he speaks. “Let me guess… got too occupied with your career, right? Bet you had a long term boyfriend who wouldn’t know how to fuck you properly if his life depended on it. ‘n then you got saddled with the kid… bought a vibrator and a plastic cock ‘n thought that would make do… you’ve never been fucked before.”

“Stop it.” you tell him. You turn your head away but he quickly forces it back with one heavy, dominating hand. “I have to go.”

“Sure.” he agrees, not letting go or moving aside for you to leave.

Nothing is said, not another word. Several beats of silence pass by as you stare at each other. The hypnotic music continues to play outside, though it’s muffled slightly by the locked office door. It isn’t enough to mask how hard either of you are breathing. Panting. Unable to break your stare from each other as the silence, that cogent fucking silence gets louder and louder.

Not another word is spoken as his lips press roughly against your own. You kick off your shoes and he kicks them aside as you continue to kiss him. Your hands are all over his body, grabbing and squeezing his skin as you lose yourself to the feeling of his lips. He forces down your trousers so that they’re resting around your thighs before lifting you onto the desk. You moan, desperately, as he breaks the kiss to fully remove them from your legs.

He lets them fall and kicks them away in the opposite direction of your shoes. The kiss breaks once more as he laughs lightly as your hips begin to rock eagerly for him.

“Knew you were wet for me earlier, y’know.” he tells you, kissing you briefly before deciding to tease you further. “Felt how your cunt was droolin’ when I lifted you on here before.”

“You’re vile.” you tell him, not caring that much as you lock your lips with his again. His attitude, the way he talks, the way he is. It’s all so nauseatingly macho and you thought you were better than this. You thought you knew better and wanted better for yourself. But having it presented so perfectly for you… you were always going to succumb.

“You like it, you like me.” he continues, forcing your snow-white coat down your arms and off your body. The way his knuckles continue to gush blood, you expect the liquid to seep and stain the white material and paint it the same red as his eyes. “Mmmm, I’m right. Why else would you be so wet?”

The air is snatched from your lungs as he pushes your legs apart from each other one at a time. You don’t dare close them as you watch him pull his vest over his head and reveal his perfectly chiselled body in all of its glory. It’s pervasive. It’s gorgeous. You aren’t even sure it’s humanly possible to look this good.

A soft ‘unf’ sound leaves you and you feel him sink his bloody knuckles inside of your panties. Deft fingers swirl and tease around your firm clit, and your mouth seals shut.

“Tell the truth, princess.” he swipes two fingers over your clit at a heightened pace, desperate to coax another utterance of admittance from your soft lips. “You wanna get fingered by a dirty old man. Go on, let me be your bit of rough, sweetheart.”

“Fuck.” you breathe, unable to withstand his filthy mouth. You’re truly powerless to being spoken to like this. Maybe you’re tired of people speaking to you so politely day in day out.

He doesn’t respect you, though.

Right now you’re nothing but a wet, desperate hole, with a pretty face attached.

“Let daddy finger you, yeah?” he asks, and you can’t stop your eyes from filling with water. He thinks it’s adorable. How the mighty hath fallen for nothing more than a few little rubs on your neglected clit. It makes him sick, truthfully, how many precious little things like you go without being touched properly. You’re about to learn, now, just how quickly you can become addicted to a person and the way they touch you.

“I should- I r-really have to go!” you tell him, still so desperate to remain defiant to the bitter end. He knows you’re bound to crumble any second. You’re biting your lip to keep quiet, but it will do you little good. Not when you are instinctively widening your legs for him. Wider than you knew they could go.

He pushes a single finger into you, hissing when he feels just how tight you really are. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume you were a virgin. He presses the heel of his palm against your clit, constantly adding pressure to the needy nub as he continuously pumps and curls his finger in and out of your sopping hole.

“Sukuna! I can’t d-do this, I shouldn’t be here.” you tell him as you wrestle with your guilt.

“This is exactly where you should be,” he tells you. “You’ll feel better when you cum f’me. Maybe you’ll stop being such a stuck up bitch.” he laughs, again, because you don’t dispute it.

No, instead, you lean back and rest your hands on the desk. Your hips roll urgently against his hand, chasing the stimulation to your clit. He looks down between you, tugging at your panties with one hand until you take the hint. You stop rutting against him, closing your legs so he can pull them down without stopping his rough touches.

They come down enough, the white lace dangling on one ankle as he forces your legs apart again. His vision meets your cunt. The way you’re swallowing one finger with ease now calls him to add another.

And you hiss from the stretch, but your humping doesn’t relent. You’re taking his fingers all of the way to the bloody knuckle until your eyes cross from the pleasure. And he grunts, at that, an attempt to conceal the moan lodged in his throat.

He revels in the way your cunt clenches as he allows a glob of spit to drip to your clit. His jaw hangs low as he massages the heel of his palm into it harder. The way you wriggle from his touch is better than any drug he can imagine existing. It’s addictive, seeing a once so proud woman regress to a needy little pet from the touch of a common man.

“D-Don’t stop.” you whisper, unsure of where that even came from. It was entirely involuntary. Your brain begins to fog as he repeatedly batters your g-spot again and again until your vision turns white. “Fuck, fuck! ‘m cumming, Sukuna! Ah- aaah~!” you cry out.

And just as it was getting good. Just as you were about to topple over the edge, he withdraws his fingers.

“You’re a real slut when you get going, aren’t you?” he smiles, landing a wet slap on your twitching pussy. You yelp, but don’t speak. “Barking orders at me like you’re in charge. Remember who’s office you’re in, now. It ain’t yours, princess. You’re spread open on daddy’s desk. Know your place.”

“I’m s-sorry.” you whimper, trying to focus and ignore the aching pulse you feel between your thighs. You need to cum, now. You need him to make you. It’s not fair, you can’t comprehend how close you were before he stopped you from reaching your high. “I’ll be good, d-daddy, just don’t… please don’t stop.” you beg, the title feels foreign on your tongue. But you don’t hate it.

He tuts, slapping your cunt again and again, repeatedly striking until tears spill from your pathetic, wet eyes.

“Fuckin’ love it when you look at me like that. Needy little whore.” he chortles, moving away from you entirely as he goes to grab something. “I’m gonna do something no one else will ever be able to do for you, jus’ because you look so pretty.”

“Wha—?”

“Lose the sweater, now. Wanna see your pretty tits,” he commands, lifting up the bag he grabbed from his locker earlier. “Hurry up. You need to be naked for this, you’ll enjoy it more.”

You do as you’re told, hurrying to strip yourself of the restricting material that has been suffocating you all night. And you toss it God knows where, breathing a sigh of relief as you feel cooler despite the sweaty heat that is trapped in the office with you.

“Good, good girl.” he smirks, unzipping the bag. You brace yourself for whatever he’s about to pull out. Some kind of sex toy, you assume. Knowing his ego, it’s probably a mould of his cock, hoping he can double stuff you.

But he doesn’t pull anything out.

Instead, he tips the bag upside down. There’s no time to think about what horrible things he could be pouring onto you. Because it doesn’t happen. Instead, you’re showered in bank notes. You laugh, excitedly, as you feel a never-ending stream over hundred-dollar bills pour over your body and onto the desk.

Sukuna laughs, too, admiring the sight of you dressed in nothing but money.

His money.

And it’s everywhere.

You writhe around on the desk before looking at him. He pulls down his sweats, hungrily, just enough to free his length. And, fuck, he’s huge. You knew he would be just by looking at the rest of him. It’s a scary sight, but you don’t care. He was right, no one else will ever be able to do this for you.

“Fuck me.” you request, opening your legs for him again. “Want daddy to fuck me stupid.” you finish.

And he doesn’t need to be asked twice. His fingers are shoved between your lips for you to suck as he lines his threatening cockhead up with your throbbing cunt. You’re too distracted by the taste of his fingers to properly react to how he stretches your hole.

The taste of copper stains your tastebuds along with the flavour of your essence. He watches you, intently, as he bullies his cock all of the way to the hilt without remorse. Though he hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath while examining you, panting desperately when he’s fully sunken into your restricting walls.

“Took that like a champ,” he praises you, withdrawing his fingers from your lips and opting to squeeze the sides of your neck instead. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, swallowing me like this.” he smirks, thrusting his hips shallowly to help you adjust. But the composure is lost when he feels how tight you’re wrapped around him. Like you’re claiming what yours as if he belongs inside, buried deep in your cunt to depths no one has been before.

He's yours.

“Fuuuu—” you start, cutting yourself off as you pout and groan through every pummel of his hips against yours. “Daddy! D-aaddy!” you wince, unable to believe how perfectly each vein adorning his cock stimulates you so beautifully. His leaking tip serves as a painful reminder to how irresponsible you’re being to fuck a literal stranger raw.

But you don’t care.

You honestly don’t care as you think about the desperate desire you feel burning between your thighs for him to fill you up like you’re his. To be claimed in such a disgustingly primal way by this behemoth of a man while you just lie there and take it is the only thing higher on your list of priorities than actually getting to cum yourself.

“No one will fuck you like this again, hear me? No one.” he reminds you. And all you can do is nod dumbly as you can’t even find it in you to formulate one word on your tongue to say in response. “Not a doctor, not a lawyer. No one will fuck you in the money they earn like this. And you look so pretty, princess. Knew you’d like it, can act high ‘n mighty all you like, but you like the blood money, don’tcha?”

“Y-Yes.” you barely managed to squeak out.

“Yes what?” he repeats.

“Y-es, daddy,” you pant, forcing yourself to fix your eyes on him as you speak in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. “I l-like the money.”

“Little money slut.” he chuckles, the angle he fucks in you seeming to hit deeper and deeper the longer it goes on. “I should fuck you up against the window, let everyone see how fucked out you are. Hah? Show everyone you’re not such a stuck up princess after all.”

“N-No, please, don’t.” you beg, gasping as he pulls his cock out of you and drags you away from the desk. He pushes your face against the window and you instinctively close your eyes. Your back arches as he slots himself into you from behind, powerless to his body as he starts fucking into you again. And you’re so thankful for the blinds, despite the fact the ridges dig into your skin as he ploughs you. “Fuuuuck, ‘Kuna, fuck, s’big!” you tell him, feeling him deeper still as he hits you from behind.

“I should let them all see what a whore you are.” he laughs, fingers gripping deeply into your sides as he uses you for leverage to pull you down on his length whilst battering into you. “Pretty mouth is droolin’ for me, look like you’re gonna break.”

Your heart begins to race as he reaches for the cord to open the blinds. There’s no doubt in your mind that it’s something he’d do. You brace yourself, preparing to be put on show for all of the lecherous men below to see.

But instead, he picks you up and forces you to bend over the table again. Your feet don’t even touch the ground as rams his cock into you again and again and again.

“Megumi wouldn’t be able to live it down if everyone knew how much of a slut his sister is,” he tells you. “He’d get the shit kicked out of him every time someone described what your face looks like when you cum.”

Fuck, Megumi.

You’d forgotten all about him, waiting in the freezing cold car for you while his pseudo-boss fucks your brains out.

“Don’t,” you huff, “tell him, about this.”

“Of course not, I’ll be your dirty little secret.” he laughs. “You are a vessel for my cum and nothing more.”

You’ve never felt such self-hatred for yourself as those final, scathing words have you cumming violently around his cock. You tremor and shake as you finish, collapsing entirely onto the desk as he continues to plough into you.

“Fuck, fuck!” you cry, feeling even more embarrassment wash over you as you think you might have pissed yourself. But he gasps, amazed, admiring the stream of clear liquid gushing from your cunt drenching him and his money on the floor.

“Awe, baby just squirted. What that your first time?” he laughs, fucking into you harder so that he can follow you along in your bliss. He bends over, his mouth lining up with your ear so he can whisper more of his rendition of sweet nothings into your ear. “You’re shaking ‘cause of me. A-And now, you’re gonna have to drive your little brother home with every drop of my cum in your cunt.”

“Please, please fill me up. Need it s’bad. Wanna be full of you…” you babble, reality still not fully resonating with you as he carries on fucking into you at a brutal pace.

He grunts and moans as he cums deep inside of you. You’ve made some mistakes in your life but this has to be one of the better ones. Despite your healthcare knowledge telling you that you should know better, you’ve never felt so content as you feel him shoot rope after rope of searing hot cum into your womb.

He pulls out, wiping his dick off on your ass cheek before fingering you slowly.

“Keep my mark inside of you.” he utters, forcing you to squeeze your thighs together so you don’t waste a drop while he gathers your clothes for you.

He hands you your underwear first while he keeps looking, and you pull them up quickly. It feels so revolting and lewd as his cum leaks into the seat of your panties. You sigh as you feel the cold letter M on your chest before you can dress yourself.

“I don’t have a first aid kit here.” Sukuna speaks, not looking at you as he hands you the rest of your belongings.

“I’m fine.” you tell him, quickly pulling on your sweater and instantly feeling sick as the warm material meets with your hot, clammy skin.

“I’m not.” he tells you, watching as you pull up your trousers and fasten them in a hurry before slipping into your high heels again. “Bet you have one at home. You’re a doctor, you’ve gotta look after people.”

You eye him up, cautiously, before your expression changes to a smile. “You’re asking to come home with me?” you wonder, pulling on your coat and making sure you still have two phones in your pockets as well as your purse and Megumi’s wad of cash. “But Megumi will—”

“I’ll drive behind you. C’mon, princess, don’t want my cuts do get infected, do ya?” he asks.

You cannot believe you allowed his dirty fingers inside of you. As good as they felt, it was so stupid. You’re sure there’s probably blood stains on your inner thighs because of him.

Though the thought of him all over you makes your cheeks fill with warmth.

You just nod, opting not to speak as you head towards the office door. You walk ahead of him, finding confidence in your strides again. He puts his vest back on and makes sure he’s decent before leaving the office. He watches you leave ahead of him and stops to talk to his favourite subordinate.

“Clean the mess up there. And I’ve counted the money so don’t get cute.” he says, handing the key to the office over before following your path out.

He’s a little surprised how far ahead you’d gotten. Long gone from the building as you approach your car.

The guilt of leaving Megumi alone for so long got to you, he thinks.

“Hi.” you say, simply, sitting behind the wheel of your car and hoping not to have to talk much for the ride home. He’s a moody teenager who rarely has a word to say to you. And for once, you’re hoping it’ll stay that way. You adjust yourself and quickly put on your seatbelt so that you can drive off without another word.

“What took you so long?” Megumi asks, huffing as he looks at you. His eyebrows knit as he sees his bossapproach with a confident swagger. He wonders if he forgot something or he didn’t pay him the right amount.

Sukuna leans into his open window with a shit eating grin on his face. He wants to question it, to question you. But his eyes meet your not so pristine white coat as he turns to look at you again. “Is that blood?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as he waits for an answer.

You look down at your jacket, holding your eyes closed with a sigh as you realise what a nightmare it’s going to be to remove the stains. Megumi leans in closer to you, moving your hair out of the way as he examines you.

“Um…” you mutter, too frozen to even continue starting up the car.

“It’s on your face and neck too. What did you—?” he stops, turning around to look at Sukuna and see if he can fill in the blanks in his mind with any form of answer. But they’re filled, instantly, as his eyes fall to see Sukuna’s bloody knuckles. “For fuck sake.” he speaks, quietly, covering his face with both hands as the revelation dawns on him.

“I’ll be right behind you, lead the way.” Sukuna winks as he walks away from your car and heads towards his own.

You don’t say anything, copying your brother’s action as you both sit in silence and absorb the never-ending supply of cringe filling the atmosphere. Until eventually you decide, this won’t do. Sukuna honks the horn of his Mercedes to signify that he’s ready.

So you start to drive, fleeing the scene while your partner in crime follows behind.

“Fucking good role model you are.” Megumi speaks sarcastically. “I can’t show my face there again. Why do you ruin everything?”

“Nothing happened!” you lie, earning a scoff from him.

“Let me get this straight. You came here to tell me to stop fighting, and then you fucked the man who pays me to do it. So, am I allowed to fight or not?”

“Obviously not, Megumi.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite.” he scathes, turning his head to face away from you while he sulks. “You can’t tell me what to do after this. Some fucking moral compass you got there.”

“Oh shut up.” you respond, trying to keep a cool head as you continue. “Nothing. Happened. I watched him fight and I hated it, we talked it out and here we are. Stop being so pissy.”

“Why’s he following us home, then?” he wonders, turning to face you and see if he can detect an honest answer or a lie from you.

“He doesn’t have a first aid kit.” you tell him, which is true though it isn’t really an answer. And you feel his green eyes burn into the side of your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “I’m a doctor, he needs his wounds tending to.”

“… Oh my God.” he starts. “Oh my God you actually fucking like him. You’re so embarrassing.” he huffs, pulling a cigarette out of his jeans. He closes the window to light it and opens it again just as quickly. You’ve never liked that he smokes, but you know nothing you say or do will stop him.

Just like the fighting.

And then, you find yourself laughing. Unable to stop yourself as you think about what a stereotypical angsty teen your little brother is. And, God, you’ve made yourself into his biggest enemy just because you care about him. But now… Christ, you’ve gone above and beyond.

“I lied. We fucked. And it was great.” you laugh harder when you see Megumi’s horrified expression the longer the conversation goes on.

“I can’t stand you.” he sighs. “He’s never gonna let me forget this. What is wrong with you?”

“Serves you right, you little shit. Lie to me again and see what happens.” you warn him, your laughter lets up a little as you try and focus on being serious.

You’re never going to be his mother, and you’d never want to be. But what you can be is his big sister. You can be an annoying pain and embarrass him whenever he acts up. But you’ll always be here to take care of him and keep him on the right track when needs be.

“I love you, shit head.” you smile, and he sighs.

“… love you too… bitch.”

© 2023 rinhaler

m.list | chapter two

[i2sunric]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 (l.hs)

pairing: heeseung x reader (f)

summary: your daughter asks heeseung to tell the greatest love story of all and he takes the chance to narrate how he met you, the love of his life.

warnings: fluff & crack! (i tried), early 2000s au, kinda enemies to lovers, heeseung is down bad, they have a daughter, mentions of pregnancy, heeseung plays basketball, cuddling and kissing, light angst, mentions of leukaemia, parent’s death, if more lmk. NOT PROOFREAD

published: 23rd April 2024

wc: 6.2k

tag list: @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted

Heeseung couldn’t bring himself to wake you up, knowing you were so exhausted from all the things you had to do.

Not only did you manage to prepare everything for Jia’s kindergarten, take her there and get to work in time but you also cleaned and cooked in your spare time, leaving little to just sit down and rest, which was why every time you sat down on the sofa, you ended up falling in a deep slumber.

He smiled fondly, covering your curled figure with a blanket and turned around with his hands on his hips “Tin Soldier.”

He called with a forced low voice, making Jia’s attention turn from the toy in her hand to her father, she placed her stocky hand on her forehead, standing at attention “Captain Hamster.”

Heeseung chuckled at her high pitched voice and scooped her up from the floor, taking her in his arms “Mission sweet tooth,” He booped her nose “Time for teeth brushing.”

Jia let out a whine of disappointment “But I want to play more.” She pouted, and if Heeseung didn’t know how much you’d get upset if Jia missed her bedtime, he’d let his daughter play to her heart's content.

“I know,” He pinched her cheek softly, earning a giggle “But I heard the tooth fairy doesn’t come to those who don’t brush their teeth before bed…” He trailed off, Jia’s eyes widened and she quickly climbed down Heeseung’s arms, hurrying upstairs. He could hear her small steps darting to the bathroom, making him smile writhing himself.

He glanced back at you, feeling such an euphoric feeling he thought his heart would explode.

Heeseung walked close to you and placed a featherlight kiss on your forehead, but your momma instinctive feelings made your eyes open up, alerted to your surroundings as you tried to get the sight of your daughter.

“Shh..” He soothed, caressing your cheek “I’ll prepare Jia for bed, mh?” He kissed the corner of your lips, your eyes already closed under his relaxing touch “You stay here, I'll take you to bed later.” You just let out a sleepy hum, your eyes too heavy to stay open more.

Heeseung went upstairs, following his daughter’s route and getting to the bathroom where she was already brushing her teeth, probably with a little too much toothbrush but it didn’t matter. He was glad she was trying.

Jia rinsed her mouth and opened it to let her father see how much of a good job she did, Heeseung smiled proudly “Great job, Tin Soldier. It's jammy mission now.” Jia giggled as she hurried off the stool that helped her reach the faucet and took Heeseung's sleeve, dragging him (more like, he let himself be dragged) to her bedroom.

The baby took her pyjama from the chair and placed it on the bed, “Daddy, can you help me?” She asked, clumsily removing her clothes.

Heeseung nodded, smiling as he saw her attempts at changing, despite still not majoring in it. In no time, she was clean and ready to bed, Heeseung tugged her under the blankets and sat by the edge of the bed, only the thin reflection of the pink night light illuminating the room.

They stared at each other for a few moments until Jia spoke “No bedtime story?” She tilted her head in confusion “You want me to tell you a bedtime story?”

“Mommy always does,” He explained, hugging her purple bear tightly “And what kind of stories does mommy tell you?” Heeseung asked, curious

“She usually recounts Tangled because she like a Flynn Rider.” Jia informed, making Heeseung raise a brow “She does?” Was it possible to feel jealous of a cartoon character? Probably not but Heeseung was crazy about you, so he’d make it a normal thing.

“Yes, but it’s always the same story.” Jia sighed, shaking her head “I want a more interesting one.”

Heeseung stayed silent, his lips forming a thin line as he tried to think “What do you want to hear about?”

It didn’t take much for Jia to reply “I want the greatest love story of all.” She answered happily, at her age, everything was about fantasies and unicorns.

So, Heeseung tried to think about the many love stories he knew, the famous tales he’d known growing up. There was Cinderella, The Little Mermaid and…. a candle lit in his mind.

“I’ll tell you the greatest love story of all,” He started with a cocky smirk “The best fairytale ever told.”

His words fuelled Jia’s curiosity as she snuggled better under the blankets, eyes sparkling “The wonderful love story of Lee Heeseung and L/N Y/N.”

Jia’s face was puzzled “But that’s you and mommy.” She stated and Heeseung nodded, smiling “Mommy isn’t a princess.”

Heeseung shook his head, but his smile never disappeared from his lips. “No, she’s my queen.” He ruffled Jia’s hair “So, do you want to hear it?”

“Mhmh!” Jia hummed in response “If mommy is a queen then I am the princess.” Heeseung let out a low chuckle, nodding “Yes, you are our dear princess.”

Jia smiled widely, one of those smiles that made your days uncontrollably better and sweeter “Tell me, tell me.” She incited her father

“It all started on..”

⪩⪨

A rainy Thursday afternoon. It was the perfect time for a cinema hang out with friends. You stood in front of the long line, it seemed like everyone had your same idea since both elderly couples and families with children were buying tickets and popcorn. You waved your hand to a young boy who was staring at you while holding a sachet of popcorn bigger than him, he waved back, making you smile.

You turned your head to see that most of the queue was gone, so you surpassed some of those people who never moved and just stared at the menu. You already knew your order, so why would you wait for them to choose?

The cashier who looked like he could really do a vacation asked in a monotone voice “What do you want to order?”

“A packet of Twizzlers.” You said but your voice did not seem quite like yours. You turned your head to the side just to meet a pair of big eyes staring at you in disbelief.

You two narrowed your eyes at each other, a staring battle that would declare the winner. Why were you acting that way? Because the packet of Twizzlers was the last one, and if that pretty boy thought he could steal it from you, he thought wrongly.

The cashier cleared his throat. “It’s the last one.” He stated, holding the dear packet of candies in front of you two

“I was there first.” The boy tried to defend himself, making you scoff “He was talking to me.” You raised a challenging brow.

“I clearly saw you cutting the line.” He blamed “False accusation, do you have any proof?”

“You were at the end of the queue just two seconds ago!” He exclaimed, making you smirk “You were staring at me?” Pink flashed instantly on the guy’s cheeks “No.” He tried to mask it, but you could clearly see some frustration in his features

The cashier cleared his throat once again, snatching your attention. “Just decide already, or I will.”

“No!” You both screamed, side eyeing each other once again “They’re mine.” The boy said, making you roll your eyes, “Your name ain’t written on them.”

“Neither is yours.” He raised his chin, an attempt to make you see he wasn’t backing down.

There was a moment where you two stared at each other, silence filling the place except for the vociferate inside the cinema halls, waiting for the movie to begin.

“Rock, paper, scissors!” You both exclaimed at the same time again, showing your hands. He cursed under his breath, seeing your petite hand that represented paper wrap around his closed fist which was rock.

“I won.” You said mockingly, throwing a few coins on the counter and taking the packet of twizzlers in your hand.

You were walking away when the cashier called you “Miss, excuse me?” You turned around and raised a questioning brow

He waved the coins you used to pay for the candies “You’re missing ten cents.”

You widened your eyes, checking your jeans pockets. You were sure you took the right amount of money, had you miscounted them?

An hopeful grin spread across the guy’s lips, taking the pennies from the cashier’s fingers and walking toward you “Guess this should be mine.” He tried to take the packet of Twizzlers but you moved your arm

He sighed, shaking his head “Listen, darling—“ “Don’t call me darling” You snapped at him, a frown on your face

He placed two surrounding hands between you two “Alright, my bad.” He then pointed at you and the dear packet of candies “You don’t have enough money, but I do, so just give it up and go watch your movie.”

Your mouth fell agape, staring at him in disbelief. However, you had nothing to counterattack anymore and had to stay still when he took the packet, replacing your hand with your not enough coins and paying for it to the overtired cashier.

The boy winked at you before disappearing down the corridor that led to the halls.

A movie just wasn’t the same without Twizzlers, but instead of doing twenty cents charity outside the cinema to buy at least a coke, you hurried inside the hall that projected ‘The Notebook’ and tried to find your seat, despite the room being dark already. Fortunately, there was at least ten minutes of advertising, so you had enough time to let yourself fall on the seat with a loud thud, earning a few ‘shhh’s from other people.

“Girl, what’s wrong with you?” Your best friend, Sunoo asked “What took you so long to come back? I thought you got lost or something.”

You shook your head, a defeated expression painted on your face “Someone stole my Twizzlers.” You fake-dried a tear

“Aw, poor you.” Sunoo patted your shoulder, knowing your tradition of eating candies and drinking coke while watching a movie “It’s ok, I’ll share my coke with you.” He took the giant cup and placed it on the armrest between the two of you. You smiled at him and focused your attention on the movie that started.

You felt a familiar scent filling your nostrils, you slowly turned your head and raised a brow when you noticed that not only had that boy stolen your candies, he was also eating them on the seat beside yours. You had not noticed it when you first sat down, but now you could clearly see his silhouette enjoying the snack that should’ve been yours.

As if feeling someone’s stare on him, he turned his head and met your angry gaze, his eyes widened a little before they turned into two half-moons, a smug grin on his lips. You exchanged no words but the way he was acting was so mocking it made your blood burn.

You gave your attention back to the film, not wanting to fuel his ego by acting affected by his childish behaviour. Yes, it was childish, but you were more petty so it did anger you. Who did he think he was to act that way?

The movie continued, even if you were painfully aware of the parasite beside you, you were able to follow the whole plot line until the ending scene was replaced with the closing credits. Murmurs filled the cinema room, the lights went on and you heard.

Sunoo was crying rivers beside you which made you chuckle, he had already finished his third tissue when he said “I’ll run to the bathroom.” To probably cry some more and try to fix his swelling eyes later. You were about to follow him when you heard a sniffle from your other side, you turned around and your eyes lit up when you noticed the stealer crying.

He raised his head and hid it behind his hands when he noticed you were staring. A heartfelt laugh escaped your lips “Don’t laugh at me.” He mumbled with a clear runny nose “You bet I am.” You sat down again, waiting for all the people to flow out and leave the exits freer “That’s what you get for stealing my snacks.”

He peaked at you from behind his fingers. “It’s not my fault you’re broke.” You tsked at his false-not-so-false statement “It’s not my fault you’re a crybaby.”

He side-eyed you and you side-eyed him back, just like Sunoo had taught you. The boy tried to dry his tears and runny nose, which was both unhygienic and impossible with one palm of his hand.

You felt a little pitiful for him and sighed, taking a tissue from the small tissue box and handing it to the boy.

He eyed it warily, not sure if he should’ve accepted it or not. “It’s not poisonous, unlike your germs.” You waved it in front of his face and he accepted it with a groan, blowing his nose and drying his tears.

He crumpled it and put it in his jeans pocket, staring at you while gulping down in a nervous way. You chuckled teasingly “What? Is the venom acting up?”

He rolled his eyes and took something from inside his hoodie’s pocket, “I saved this for you.”

You stared at the red candy stick he was holding out for you with a frown “What?” You asked, puzzled. Heeseung just sighed, acting unbiased. “I was full, don’t think I did it out of kindness.”

“What’s your name?” You asked suddenly, making him widen his eyes “Careful, you sound interested.”

You pursued your lips “Just answer, yeah?” The boy placed the candy on your palm, standing up.

You hadn’t noticed it, but he towered you by a lot just with you sitting, you didn’t imagine how you would have to pull your neck to look into his eyes by standing in front of him.

He stretched, lazily placing his hands in his pocket “Heeseung,” He beckoned to you “Y/N.” You replied

“Thank you for the tissue, Y/N.” He said and the way your name rolled from his tongue made your stomach turn. Whether it was disgust or attraction, you didn’t dare to label.

“Unthank you for the Twizzlers.” You smirked and turned on your heels, walking away before he even had the chance to talk to you more.

⪩⪨

“You cried over a movie?” Jia asked in an accusatory tone “I’m a sensitive person.” Heeseung huffed, blinking faintly

“I think you’re just a cry baby.” Jia raised her chin proudly “I didn’t even cry when I went to the dentist.”

Heeseung sniggered softly, booping his daughter's nose. He couldn’t help but always show some sort of affection towards her. The feeling of protection and longing was so strong whenever they spent time together. “Of course, you’re stronger than me.”

“Did you see her again later?” Heeseung nodded “Yes, but it was a lot of time later, like one month or so.” Jia widened her eyes “That much?” He hummed, running a hand in his hair “I was always awestruck when I saw her, it happened at the cinema and again…”

⪩⪨

“A 40, please.” Heeseung forced out a smile and handed the skates to the young girl who just asked. He was supposed to be relaxing at home but his brother decided to have a small trip with his girlfriend and obviously, it was Heeseung’s turn to cover up for him.

He had been handing skates that smelled like sweat and rotten cheese to people for four hours, and the thoughts of doing that for another one and half made him feel sick.

��A 38, please.” Heeseung’s eyes widened at the familiar voice, he raised his head and stared at your face through his bangs.

“You!” You both shouted at the same time, making the gesture of the Spiderman meme “What are you doing here?” He asked, eyeing you up and down.

Perhaps, it was the reddish lightning of the room, or the fact that your hair had grown a little, seeming like the perfect length for you; or the soft make up accentuating your face. Or maybe just the toxic fumes from the overused skates played tricks on his head.

“What’s taking so long?” One arm sneaked around your shoulders, making Heeseung raise a brow.

Oh, that was why you were there.

“My size is hard to find.” You lied, beckoning to Heeseung to do his job. Complying, he turned around and found your skates. passing them to you “Remember to take the safety precautions.” He said the same phrase he’d been repeating so many times and watched as you walked away with that guy’s arm still around your shoulder.

It shouldn’t have pissed him off, but it did. The way you smiled with him, helping him skating despite him was a lost case. Seriously, that guy sucked at skating, he had fallen so many times in just one hour.

Trying to distract himself, when he saw you approaching the counter bar, he started polishing the skates, but the urge to just talk to you was strong, so he approached you, sneakingly.

“Where’s your date?” Heeseung asked, cleaning the table with a sponge near where you were sat “Bathroom.” You replied nonchalantly

A soft frown curved his forehead “You’ve been sitting here for fifteen minutes, you sure he’s still in there?” At his words you smirked “You were staring at me?” Those same two words you told him when you first met.

You added “I saw him sneaking away five minutes ago, I just like to think he had a massive diarrhoea and didn’t actually dump me.”

Fucker. If he didn’t want to go out with you anymore he could’ve at least told you face to face.

The notes of ‘She Will Be Loved’ by Maroon 5 started playing as background music. Heeseung stared at you, you looked so gorgeous with your makeup, messy hair from the skating and the same bored expression you always wore, like nothing truly entertained you enough.

“What a loser.” He joked instead, earning a scoff from you “Why don’t you put yourself to good use and make me a smoothie?” You asked, sliding three coins on the counter.

Heeseung raised a brow, “I don’t know how to do it.” You raised it back “Don’t you work here?”

He shook his head “I’m just filling in for my brother.” You rolled your eyes “How useless.”

You were about to take those coins back when Heeseung stopped you, his hands brushing against yours “I’ll do it.” You smirked “A vanilla one, thank you.”

It was already late afternoon and the skating room wasn’t as packed as it was during the early hours, so Heeseung could put aside the skates sizes to make you a smoothie. Obviously, only to prove to you he was better than you thought, not because he wanted to cheer you up. Not at all.

Fiddling a little bit with the smoothies machine, he managed to make one, a little too liquid, but still drinkable.

He placed victoriously the glass in front of you, adding a straw inside “Here ya go.” You eyed it up and down, warily “Did you spit in it?”

Heeseung put a hand on his chest, acting wounded “You think so low of me.” You sighed while shaking your hand and took a small sip of the ‘vanilla smoothie’

“How is it?” He asked, hopeful. You just shrugged “Not bad for a newbie.”

Heeseung smirked, leaning against the counter, you could feel his body heat near you “Where’s my tip?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing him away “Nowhere.”

Your phone rang at that moment, you made a gesture for him to keep quiet and answered “Yes, mom… Yes, I know— at the, don’t shout, at the skating rink—“ A heavy sigh “Okay, I’ll be home.”

You hung up and hopped off the stool “Where are you going?” Heeseung frowned, “You haven’t even finished your smoothie.”

“Curfew.” You replied, waving your phone to him. He raised a brow “Don’t ask.”

Heeseung nodded, exiting from behind the counter, still in his brother’s uniform. Now you raised a brow “Where are you going?”

“I’ll walk you home.” You scowled, your face showing surprise “You’re working.” You stated

Heeseung pointed at the clock on the wall that ticked 06:03 PM. “Technically, my shift ended three minutes ago.”

“And why would you walk me home?” You asked “If something happened to you on the way, I’m sure your ghost would haunt me.”

You tsked, “I wouldn’t give you the honour to visit you when I’m dead.” Heeseung just smiled and nudged your shoulder with his “Lead the way, Twizzlers lover.”

You just rolled your eyes and walked out as he held the door for you “Let’s go, Twizzlers stealer.”

⪩⪨

“Why did that boy leave mommy?” Jia asked, her lips shifting to a cute pout “Because he didn’t realise what a treasure your mother is.” Heeseung answered, now sitting beside Jia with her small body curled under his arm.

“And you walked her home?” He nodded, laughing at the memories “Your grandfather went crazy when he saw me walk her home, I got a slipper thrown at my head.”

Jia chuckled as well, her soft giggles echoing through the whole room “What’s so funny? I got hurt.”

Jia chuckled loudly, hiding her face in her father’s chest “Grandpa still throws slippers at you.” She stated, making Heeseung laugh again “That’s right.”

“What happened then?” She asked, wanting to know more about her parents' love story. This was better than any prince and princesses tales her mother used to tell her.

“Later, I was forced to have dinner with them.” Heeseung started narrating, “After that awkward meal, me and Y/N grew closer. We kept bickering and fighting, but with her, no conversation was forced.”

Jia frowned “What does it mean?” She naively asked, of course she wouldn’t know this yet, so Heeseung explained “Sometimes, we feel forced to talk to others, however with your mother I didn’t even have to think about what to say, words just came to my mind.”

“Mommy seemed like she hated you.” The baby stated, glancing up to her father “She didn’t.”

Jia tilted her head “How do you know?” Heeseung smiled fondly, “I just knew.”

⪩⪨

“This one’s for you!” Heeseung exclaimed, throwing the ball to the basket just to painfully miss it. You laughed loudly at his fail “I hope that’s not how you flirt with girls or that explains why you’re single.” You snickered

Heeseung reached the ball and dribbled it around the court, his sleeves rolled up and his bangs sticking to the sweat on his forehead “Only with you.” He winked, making you act as if you were about to gag.

“Do you think I’ll be able to enter the college’s basketball team?” He asked, his voice sounding a little too serious for his usual playful character.

“We still have two months to think about college,” You frowned. “Let me live my summer without any thoughts.” Heeseung chuckled and threw the ball at you, which you caught before it landed on your face.

“I know,” He caught the ball you threw back at him “But I truly want to get a scholarship and maybe become a basketball player.” His tone may have been indifferent but his eyes were full of insecurities that could not could not be ignored.

You had been enemy (friend) with Heeseung long enough to know he had two things he deeply cared for: His family and basketball.

He was the High School team captain but hadn’t managed to receive a scholarship to enter the Sports faculty, which meant he had to rely on his own skills and money.

That wasn’t a problem, you know his family would always support his dreams, but there was something that Heeseung did not tell you about. You had a feeling, however you didn’t want to assume things. He’d tell you when he felt like it.

Your expression softened, you jumped off the railing and moved closer to him, stealing the ball from his hands, that he let you do, and taking a shot.

The ball entered the basket, making you smile proudly “You’re the best player I know, Heeseung.” You said honestly, nudging his shoulder with yours. The ball bounced back to you and you scooped it from the floor, placing a hand that signalled to Heeseung to wait there.

You rushed to your bags and took something he couldn’t see. He waited patiently, following all your movements.

You turned around and showed him what you did— holding out his basketball ball with a smiley face drawn on it “You just have to believe it too.” The smile on your lips matched with the ball’s one, but yours shone brighter. Heeseung felt a warm feeling spread all over his chest, something tickling his heart.

“Not as good as me.” You smirked playfully, taking another shot that missed the basket “Cause at least I fail gracefully.”

Heeseung shook his head, his lips curling into a small grin “You free tomorrow evening?” He suddenly asked and you quickly replied “Not at all.”

Heeseung knitted his brows “Why?” You sat back on the railing “The new season of ‘One Tree Hill’ is airing, I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

He reached for you, taking the new-styled ball in his hands and rolling it “Not even if I said I’ll buy you Twizzlers?” You pondered a little but then shook your head “Nah ah.”

“Damn.” Heeseung sighed, “I’ll watch it with you, then.”

You blinked faintly “You called my series trash yesterday.” Heeseung nodded “Well, they are.” He hopped on the railing beside you “But when I become the best basketball player in the world, I won’t be able to spend much time with you.”

You smiled, noting how he said ‘when’ and not ‘if’ “Finally some time away from you.” Heeseung faked being offended “I’ll say on national TV that you were about to sabotage my career.” You laughed “I’ll be making prayers for your downfall.”

You both laughed at whatever, teasing each other but knowing when to stop not to upset the other.

“Eight PM, tomorrow?” Heeseung questioned, “I don’t want you in my house.” You answered, laughing “I’ll climb the window.” You immediately shook your head, knowing he could manage to do it, because he had tried once “Fine, loser. Roast beef for dinner, take it or leave it.”

Heeseung smirked, biting his bottom lip “Not you as a meal?” You widened your eyes, pushing him off the railing “What the hell.”

“Ouch—“ He fell flat on the floor, “That hurt.” You wiggled your brows “Serves you right.”

“Oh yeah?” He said, tone flirty as he took the ball and hit you hard with it, making you fall “How dare you!” You started chasing after him while he ran away.

If anyone saw you from afar, they’d think you were two people madly in love with each other… and you were.

You just hadn’t realised it yet.

⪩⪨

“You wanted to become a basketball player?” Jia asked, her voice filled with sleepiness, but she wanted to know how the story continued, so she fought her eyes open.

“Yes dear,” Heeseung placed a featherlight kiss on Jia’s hair. “I played basketball and was the best player in the world— or so Y/N thought.”

“But you don’t play anymore.” She stated and Heeseung shook his head in response “No, I don’t.” Jia yawned softly “Why?”

He sighed sadly, gulping down “Before I went to college, my mother passed away.” Heeseung held Jia a little tighter “She had leukaemia, which is a very bad thing,” He explained easily so that his daughter could understand “And I needed stability, I needed something that basketball couldn’t bring me.”

Jia looked up at him “And what could?”

“Your mother.”

⪩⪨

You couldn’t believe you learned about it two days later. That day was the date of the funeral and you weren’t by Heeseung’s side. Truth to be told, you tried to reach for him a lot in the past few days, but his brother either shrugged you off or didn’t even answer the door.

You thought you did something wrong, but it turned out his mother died due to the illness that had been haunting her for over a year.

You should’ve realised it, you should be by his side, giving him the strength he needed to get through it. Which was why you were running despite the pouring rain, trying to reach the location of the funeral.

You didn’t care if you were going to be sick the next day, your fixed thought was Heeseung and just him.

Heeseung, on the other hand, had been painfully quiet and shut down. He hasn’t comprehended yet that he was going to live the rest of his life without his dear mother, facing the troubles and sufferings of adulthood alone.

The whole room was packed with relatives he had never known about, all giving him pity glances and condolences he didn’t need. He just wanted his mother back.

Sighing, he went outside to have some time alone. As soon as he stepped outside, the cold breeze hugged his body, making him shiver. The rain made his suit wet but he didn’t really care— maybe it would take the pain away with its drain.

He stared at the night sky, the moon and the stars watching him back, probably feeling pity for him too.

His heart was heavy and black, full of grief and sorrow. He just wished you were there to make it better. You always did.

Your smile, your playfulness, your sharp tongue. He liked everything about you, even your ugliest flaw.

As he was trying to fill his dull mind with the thought of you, he saw something rushing in the streets, towards his directions.

The figure kept coming closer and closer until a familiar face was lightened from the lightbulb.

There he saw you, standing under the pouring rain, looking ever so dreamlike. There was a moment where you both just studied each other’s faces, as if you hadn’t seen each other in forever— which felt like it.

Just a couple of days without you made him realise how important you are, how much he needed you. No words were exchanged, there was no necessity, you hurried your steps toward him and hugged him, your embrace so warm in contrast with the cold weather.

Heeseung let out a sob and then another until he was crying ugly on your chest, all the tears he wasn’t able to shed until that day. You rubbed soothing circles on his chest, gripping him tightly, afraid that he would shatter right there.

“W-Why..” He weeped, his voice breaking from the trembling of his lips, due to both the cold and his crying “It— It was too early.. Why her?”

You let him rumble nonsense, knowing how heartbroken and sad he was, you just held him through the pain, hoping to at least relieve some “I know, but I am here now, I won’t leave you.”

Heeseung looked up at you, his eyes glossy, his whole body soaked and nose reddened. Perfect regardless. You stared at him, afraid that if you blinked he would disappear, and he seemed to be thinking the same thought.

You placed your hands on both his cheeks, your thumb rubbing them. Heeseung gulped down, his long lashes and bambi eyes enchanting you, so mesmerising.

You didn’t know what you were doing until you felt his hot breath hit your skin, like one of Jupiter's satellites orbiting around him, getting closer and closer to him.

And then, like a crashing wave, your lips found each other into a gentle and soft kiss, his hands raising to brush against the nape of your neck.

You let out a sigh in his mouth, his hand grasping the back of your head, tilting it to deepen the kiss. It was an anchor that he needed, something not to give up for. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his body flush to yours, both of you warming the other, protecting from the darkness of the world.

He was the first to pull away, his lips swollen as he stared at you “You don’t know how much I waited for this.” He whispered, shaking his head to emphasise his words. Your whole body trembled under his touch, his expression filling with worry “Are you cold? We should—“

You shushed him by reattaching your lips together, only one kiss not enough to calm down the desire, “No,” you murmured on his lips “You just make me feel so much it’s overwhelming.” He let out a small sigh, nodding as if to say he felt the same. His heart was beating so fast he could feel it in his throat, every best spelling your name.

“Thank you for coming,” He whispered and you smiled at him “You know I wouldn’t leave you alone even if I were a ghost— Sorry!” You exclaimed, realising it was not the best time to bring up the conversation you had at the skating rink.

To your surprise, Heeseung laughed out loud and pressed his lips on your brow, ever so caring “Please, don’t ever lose it.”

Puzzled, you asked “Lose what?” Heeseung smiled, “The spark that makes you, you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his gaze intense as he studied those same features he knew by heart. You grinned back “If I had a packet of Twizzlers, I’d give you the last one.”

Heeseung bit his bottom lip, not able to hide the way his lips curled upwards everytime he was with you. “If I had a packet of Rolos, I’d give you the last one.”

⪩⪨

“You kissed mommy?” Jia’s voice grew softer every passing minute “Yes— but you can’t let a person kiss you until you’re eighteen, understood?”

“Why?” She asked, playing with the arms of her purple teddy bear “Because I say so.”

“Is the story finished?” Jia questioned with another yawn, as much as she wanted to hear more, her eyelids were becoming heavier

“I’ll make it quick,” Heeseung started, massaging Jia’s arm. “Mommy and I started dating after that kiss, it wasn’t official because none of us was truly ready, but we both knew what we had was magical.” He smiled within himself.

“Then, we graduated from college and I proposed to her,” Jia’s heart-lips opened to resemble an ‘o’ “With a ring?” Heeseung dipped “Yes, with a ring as beautiful as her.”

“It was an engagement ring, we made a promise to marry after university, and as soon as we got our degrees, we prepared for the big celebration— Your mother looked so perfect by the altar.”

Jia smiled sleepily, imagining how beautiful her mother must’ve looked with the wedding dress on, all candid and white “Like a queen?” Heeseung placed a kiss on her hair “Like a queen.”

“And a couple of years later, we had you.” He smiled happily. Heeseung was so satisfied with his life, and even if he had to give basketball up, he felt like he gained more. He had a beautiful wife, always by his side and a perfect daughter he’d protect with all his might (and probably throw slippers at her boyfriend’s too). His heart never felt so full of love and affection, he was accomplished.

“But the ending…“ He turned around to finish his sentence just to see Jia had fallen asleep, her breaths shallow and calm. He tugged her better under the covers, standing up from the small bed, feeling a little sore but joyful “…Still has to be written.”

He placed another featherlight kiss on her daughter’s forehead, whispering a gentle “Good night.” Before exiting the room.

He closed the door behind her back, hurrying downstairs with light steps. Heeseung saw you were still fast asleep on the couch. He removed the blanket from your figure and hooked his arms behind your neck and knees, scooping you from it.

You blinked your eyes open, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck “Hee?” You murmured, your voice laced with sleep.

“Hey, love.” He nudged his nose with your cheek “Time to get to bed.” You hummed, snuggling closer, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

Heeseung opened the door to your bedroom with his foot and slowly placed you down on the mattress. You opened your eyes again, staring at him through your half-lids “Jia?” Heeseung smiled reassuringly. “She’s sleeping, just finished telling her a story.”

He laid down beside you, wrapping the cover over your two figures, he shifted closer to you, holding you close “What story?” You asked, your voice hoarse “Just the best story ever.” He placed a sweet kiss on the corner of your lips

“By the way, I’m a better storyteller than you.” He bragged and you scoffed “Liar.”

“Maybe,” He chuckled, wrapping both his arms around your body “But do you know one thing I never lie about?”

You shook your head “I’d give you my last Rolo.” You smiled, he could feel it on his chest “I’d give you my last Twizzler too.”

[⪩⪨] END.

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[livbedum]

one conversation

maybank!reader x rafe cameron

summary rafe comes to pougelandia looking for sarah and finds you

warnings profanity , season four spoilers , use of marijuana , illusions to alcoholism , rafe being good at conflict resolution? , our girl is not standing on business at all

a/n initially , this had smut at the end , but i’m just finna two part ts for y’all<3

18+ minors dni

you were left alone to man the shop while the rest of your friends went to charleston. kie stayed behind as well , but she was driving all over the island trying to find jj. so here you were , doom scrolling behind the counter. you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking the worst when it came to what jj was up to or how the trip to charleston was going , but you could distract yourself and get high.

half of your blunt was gone when you thought you heard footsteps. you sat up straight , looking around the pillar you were leaned up against to see if anyone was there. pulling your headphones off , you took a deep breath. “no one’s here. no one’s trying to kill you. ghosts aren’t real,” you assured yourself before taking another hit of your blunt.

another puff and you heard more footsteps along with one of those eerie creeks from the wood. the scuba killer dude is so after me now. you hold your breath , not wanting him to hear you , but now your heartbeat was pounding more.

your hand fiddled around under the counter , feeling around for the knife you knew was there. it wasn’t the only one in the shop. the cool edge of the blade catches your finger and you grab it quietly , preparing yourself to fight a grown man who was dead set on killing you. the footsteps are getting closer , pausing every now and then like the man was looking around for you too.

“sarah?”

the all too familiar voice got your stomach to drop , your hand loosening around the knife entirely before you come out from around the cashier counter. “rafe?” you breathed out. the sweat that formed on the back of your neck had cooled , sending a chill down your spine.

your ex boyfriend turned at the sound of your voice , eyes softening at the sight of you clearly disheveled. “y/n , are you okay?” he instinctively asked , stepping toward you.

“i’m fine,” you answered shortly , backing up, “what’re you doing here?”

rafe chuckled , looking around the store. “what? ya can’t picture me just stopping by at my local bait shop?” he joked , fingers fumbling with one of the keychains that dangled on its hook.

“i don’t picture you at all anymore , rafe,” you simply replied , crossing your arms.

“agh! right— well , i came here looking for… my sister. i’m looking for sarah,” rafe explained , taking steps in a small circle just dicking around, “and you.” he stopped and a smile almost pulled at his lips. god , you missed his smile.

“well , sare isn’t here , so you’ll have to come back another time,” you shrugged , moving your way back behind the counter, “or not! sure you’re busy with sofia anyways. you should probably head out.”

rafe audibly groaned , bending back in frustration. “god damn it , y/n! could you— could you stop being difficult for one fucking second?” he cursed , rolling his eyes, “i’m— i’m tryna talk to you , baby.” your heart pinged at the nickname and the way rafe’s voice cracked just a little. the last time he called you that wasn’t even a part of your memory anymore. he leaned on the counter , resting his arms on the countertop and flicking at the pens in a metal tin.

and then you could smell it on his breath. to be fair , it was obvious the moment he started talking with his slurred words. “you’re drunk , rafe.”

“and? you’re high ; i can smell it,” he countered , finger coming up and booping you on the nose with a small laugh, “so what?”

you didn’t want to have to tell him to leave in the state he was in , but he could not be here when kie or jj got back. “i think you need to leave , dude,” you sighed , rubbing your forehead with your palm, “you can’t be here.”

“you used to beg me to come around the cut!” rafe whined , sniffling shortly, “now you don’t want me to?”

your eyes locked , and it was like time stood still. you thought you couldn’t read him anymore , but up close again , you know you could. he missed you. “i do,” you whispered , eyes still not leaving his, “but that doesn’t change anything.”

“one conversation,” he pleaded , grabbing your hand when you went to pull back again, “please.”

you always had trouble saying no to him. “fine,” you agreed , picking his keys up from the counter, “one conversation while i drive you home.” moving around the counter , you gently guided rafe back outside and to where his truck was parked. you helped him get in the passenger seat before getting behind the wheel and starting the truck. you heard the chime of your phone connecting to the bluetooth , and you cracked a smile. “sofia ever drive the truck?” you questioned , backing up and driving down the road.

“hell no,” rafe scoffed , reaching in the back seat for something. you eyed him , trying to figure out what he was doing. “i did something,” he announced , pulling a beer out and cracking it open.

your lips curled and you grabbed the bottle from him. “what did you do?” you asked , rolling the window down and chucking the beer out, “besides form a bad drinking habit?”

“i don’t have a bad drinking habit , y/n,” rafe groaned , letting his head hit the headrest behind him, “i made a deal. a business deal , y’know?” you looked at him , wanting him to continue. “so , you remember mrs. robinson? well , she’s not mrs. robinson anymore — whatever. so she proposed this business opportunity to me , and i’m doing it.”

“okay?”

“for us.” his voice was quieter than before , eyes flickering up to your face , gauging what you were thinking. if he even could anymore. but you didn’t say anything , so rafe continued, “i’ve been having these , i don’t know what to call ‘em , but i’ve been thinking a lot. about everything. me and sarah. me and you. and i wanna have my family back,” he admitted, “i want you back.”

you were quiet for a moment , your music the only noise in the truck. “rafe…” you sighed. your heart wanted nothing more than to forgive him for everything and take him back like you always did. but things were so different now. “you have a girlfriend. i have my life here , and i— nothing has changed.”

“what do you mean ‘nothing has changed’ , y/n? come on! i have!” rafe argued back.

“no , you haven’t!” you laughed , volume matching his, “you haven’t changed at all. the last time we all saw you was when you were aiming a fucking gun at us after you kidnapped me and sarah! and then the other day at the enduro , and let’s not forget the swell day’s activities , rafe. you haven’t changed.”

you watched rafe sit up straight before adjusting to face you entirely. “i want you! i’m sorry for the shit that happened. that — that wasn’t me , and i think you know that. i’d never do anything to hurt you , baby.”

“stop calling me that , rafe,” you begged , looking at him for just a moment with tears in your eyes, “i can’t come back to you this time.”

“you don’t understand! with this deal with hollis? i’ll have enough money for us to go away and start our own life. just like we always wanted,” he explained , hand reaching your thigh, “it’s what you wanted. i’m doing it. for you.”

you could see rafe’s place come into view and let out a deep breath. “i didn’t ask you to do that,” you mumbled , pulling truck into park, “i’ve asked you to get your shit together. to not be a fucking mess all of the time. i’ve asked you to just be nice to me a thousand times! you’re too late.”

“no , but i’m not,” rafe rushed out , grabbing your hands in his, “this deal is perfect timing. you’re home ; i’m apologizing. this is good,” he countered , hopeful smile on his lips, “c’mon.”

it was taking everything in you to not just start bawling. about how much you missed him when you shouldn’t , about how fucked up everything is , about every single thing that has happened in the last two years.

“rafe , i love you,” you said , taking his face in your hands and looking him in the eyes, “i love you so much that i could forgive you for everything—“

“so forgive me,” he interrupted softly , slipping your hands into his again , missing the way they fit together.

“i can’t,” you shook your head, “i was legally a missing person for six weeks because you kidnapped me , and i had to jump off a fucking boat into the ocean to get away. you — you drugged me and took me , rafe. that isn’t something i can just get passed. and while i was gone fighting for my life , you started dating my coworker! do you think those things are easy to forgive you for? i have been trying to do that since i’ve been back. i have come up with every logical excuse that would help me forgive you , so i can come home. but you haven’t been doing the same , and you come to me now like you couldn’t have come earlier , rafe!” your rant was going on longer than you expected, “i love you , but right now you’re not the same person. look at yourself for a moment and really think if all of this shit you get yourself into is worth losing me ; because i’m getting to the point where i believe you think it is.”

rafe sat quiet for a moment , truly taking in every single word you spoke. you could see the gears grinding and sat patiently with his hands in yours while he thought. “i love you,” he started, “i have done a million things wrong , and i know that. i’m trying to sort those things out now. that’s why i came today! to talk to you and sarah,” he explained opening his truck door, “just come inside. we can talk everything out. i promise. just give me a chance.”

“okay,” you whispered , closing your eyes for a second before getting out of the truck with him. you heard the breath of relief come from rafe. “girlfriend not here?” you quipped.

“shut up,” rafe laughed , opening the front door for you, “welcome back.”

“been awhile,” you nodded , stepping into the house with your arms crossed over your chest. your bikini top became more notable when you stepped into the air conditioning. “uh , where do you—“

“we could go to my room,” rafe suggested , raising his eyebrows at you with a smirk before you reached over and smacked him. you tried to hide your own smile. it had been so long since you and him had talked like this— joked around. “kidding!”

“living room,” you decided , heading that way on your own. you climbed over the couch and plopped down , getting comfortable as if you had been here the day before , like nothing had changed. “get to talkin’ , big guy,” you huffed , gesturing for him to sit down as well.

rafe rolled his eyes before he came into your line of sight at the directions and that stupid nickname. he hated when you called him anything other than baby or my love or if you were mad rafe. “okay , bud. the fuck?” he mumbled quietly back as he took a seat.

you were quick to defend yourself from his tone. “why are you getting snippy with me?” you asked , eyebrows furrowing as a pout overtook your lips.

“never mind,” rafe sighed lightly, “okay— first thing’s first : sofia is not my girlfriend. she was never my girlfriend,” he started off , looking at you were more sober eyes now that the conversation you’d both been wanting to have was happening. “we met at a party , and we hooked up. it , ugh , we kept hooking up , and it’s just that. i don’t want to be with her ; i don’t have feelings for her. it’s not like that.”

“you wanna start off with this topic?” you questioned , knowing it was the most sore spot for you in the moment. yes , everything he did was monumentally worse than his thing with sofia , but this was picking at you constantly.

“yes , i want to start with this because it affects us the most. if you think i’m with sofia or whatever you won’t want to come back to me,” rafe explained like it was obvious, “and the most important thing to me right now is you. it always has been.”

you bit your lip , thinking about how you want to word what you’re going to say. “i… do not care what you think you and sofia’s label is,” you admitted with a shrug, “i think you found somebody else that doesn’t know you to fill a void that i left whenever i was stranded on an island. i think you found someone that you knew would bother me if i ever came back. and i think that it’s disgusting that you’re sleeping with the only person i got along with at the club. you know that i’ve seen her posting you all of the time.”

“i thought you were dead!” rafe argued, “i was drowning myself in liquor one night when she was working and we —“

“i don’t care to hear how you started fucking my friend , rafe,” you interrupted , holding your hand up, “why didn’t you wait for me? we have been through so much shit together. things we’ve done to each other or whatever the fuck argument we get into. shit with my brother. i just don’t know why you didn’t wait this time around.”

“i thought you were dead , y/n,” he repeated , quieter this time as though the words alone were making him think that way again, “and you came back and everything was already so different.”

“because you were fucking my friend,” you said again , trying to get your point across.

his hands came up and rubbed at his face , clearing accepting the fact that this was going to be an argument conversation not a talk this out conversation. “i fucked your friend , yeah. i was horny , and you had screamed at me that you hated me and jumped off of a ship in the middle of the ocean to get away from me. and then the next time i saw you , you let kiara fucking carrera shove me off my boat as we were getting away from singh. excuse me for wanting to let off some steam,” he shouted , standing up and pacing a few feet, “oh and then we’re all back home and you scream at me in front of everyone at the enduro and then again at the beach , so… yeah.”

“letting off so much ‘steam’ that your friends are letting a pogue hang out with you all of the time? i get sofia is nice , but rafe , you’re surrounded by jackasses twenty-four seven. they’ve gotta be under the impression you’re dating if they’re letting her come around,” you argued also standing up so he wasn’t towering over you as much, “that’s the problem!”

“would you rather me go around and fuck every girl on the island?” he scoffed , confused with the situation now.

“yeah! that would be more in rafe cameron fashion,” you answered, “you told me i was the only girl you’d ever let step foot in this house with you again!”

“and you promised me no matter what! we’ve made promises and we’ve broken them. that’s nothing new to us,” rafe countered quickly before taking a deep breath and holding your hands. he moved you both to sit down again. “i don’t want to fight , y/n,” he admitted, “i want us to talk.”

you looked into his eyes , really looked , and all you could see was rafe. you could see the sweet boy that used to take you to all the way to charleston for farmer’s markets and the boy that always made you laugh. you didn’t want to argue either ; it wasn’t fun for you. you were just so mad.

“i don’t know how to talk with you when i’m this angry , rafe!” you huffed , dropping your face into your hands, “i am so fucking angry all of the time.”

“how about we talk about what you want to then?” he suggested , hand reaching your thigh and rubbing it soothingly, “i want to talk , so if it’s hard for you , we’ll do what you want. all i want is you back. i’m willing to make this work.”

you eventually looked up again , a soft smile at the feeling of his warm hand forming. “i don’t want to talk , ray,” you confessed , covering his hand with yours, “i just wish things were the same as they were before all of this happened.”

“it can be,” he responded , a smile lighting his face, “we can be.” rafe scooted closer to you on the couch , gently pulling you into him. “i’m on your side. whatever you want to do.”

and you didn’t even realize that you had moved your head to kiss him. you were already kissing rafe deeply when you came to the realization that this was the dumbest thing you could’ve been doing at the moment , but he was there and you loved him as much as you shouldn’t. “i don’t want to talk,” you echoed , shifting to straddle rafe’s lap. and he let you.

“i don’t deserve you,” he mumbled in between kisses , letting his hands feel you for the first time in so long.

you pulled back for a moment , taking his hand in your face again to make him look at you. “don’t say that ; it hurts my feelings,” you smiled , pressing a kiss into his cheek, “i love you. let’s drop everything that’s happened. if you say you’ve changed , i’ll believe you.”

taglist @maybankslover @annatartastic @maroonz @ravenmedows @yootvi @icaqttt @inlovewithmorales

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | your first time together is…your first time

♡ fandoms; The Boy, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2006), slashers (general)

♡ characters; Brahms Heelshire, Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt

♡ reader; gender neutral - i tried to be ambiguous but where i couldn’t be, i gave an option for both sets of parts uwu

♡ cw; sex (this is smut my friend), a little bit of implied breeding kink, possessiveness

♡ notes; what it says on the tin; you lose your virginity the first time you have sex with your stabby bf. i can only dream 😔

also, probably the last fic with a random selection of characters , i have the poll results n everything. vincent was the winner and brahms three percent behind him, so they’re being added to a-team permanently

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Brahms Heelshire

> he’s relieved when you tell him you haven’t gone that far before

> because he’s a virgin too, and probably more nervous than you are

> he’s eager though- he’s always eager when it comes to you

> he pulls you on top, grabbing your hips and grinding up on you as you kiss

> and then he urges you to use his face- fuck it or sit on it, depending on what you’re working with

> and while your hesitant, not wanting to overwhelm him for his first time

> but god, he’s a good little sub, and he loves every second of it

> after he’s made you cum, he pulls away- practically still drooling, and begs for you to touch him

> he bucks up into your hand immediately, already so hard he’s twitching

> if he lasts more than a few pumps, he flips you, seeming shy to pin you, but trying his best

> and he has to take a breather to make sure he doesn’t immediately cum inside you

> he’s slow at first, literally shaking

> and for your first time, it’s all missionary- he needs to watch your face, making sure he’s doing a good job

> and making sure he tells you how pretty you are

> he cums first, he just can’t help it- but he’s not at all hesitant to replace his cock with his fingers

> and he makes sure you cum at least twice more, using his mouth again if he needs to

> by the time you finally catch your breath, he’s already more than ready for round 2

Micheal Myers

> he’s already pushing you to your knees in front of him when you manage to tell him

> he pauses- he’s not sure what to do

> he’s always rough.

> and he’d been rough with you thus far

> he rubs your cheek softly and huffs- and at first you think he’s going to put a stop to things for the day

> until he throws you over his shoulder, giving your ass a playful squeeze in the process

> of course he’s not going to fuck you on the porch like an animal

> not for your very first time at least

> he drops you on the bed and takes his mask off

> it’s not the first time you’ve seen him without it, but it’s still special

> he teases you, hands all over your body as he carefully watches your reactions

> he has you in your undies when he finally gets impatient and goes back to his usual selfishness

> he had you get on your knees again- this time more gently coaxing, and guides you through taking him

> and for the record, there’s a lot to take

> before you have him too needy he lays you down

> you can tell this is going to be a once in a while thing, so you savor the sight of him between your thighs

> he eats you out/rims you like it’s his goddamn job, staring up at you all the while

> it’d be creepy if he wasn’t so good at what he was doing

> if you insist on missionary, he’ll let you this time

> but he wants you doggy so he can watch you take him inch by inch

> this boy has so much stamina

> you cum three times before he finally pulls out, painting your back

> you try to sit up but he doesn’t let you- he’s not done with you

> not even close

Thomas Hewitt

> something about his eyes darken when you tell him you’re a virgin

> he’d never be the one to initiate something first - he’s far too scared of crossing your boundaries to lead like that

> so if you’re telling him, it’s probably because you’re telling him you want him to take your virginity

> and even though he never believed in the Bible, or the sexist shit Hoyt always spouted

> he’s possessive, and if something about being your first is exciting. it was another part of you that’d be all his

> before you know it the man is ripping your clothes off. like literally ripping.

> he manhandles you- unintentionally, but it’s hard for him not to with your size difference

>he spreads your thighs wide apart and goes to town

> he goes down on you again, and again, and again and—

> by the time he sits up you’re already overstimulated

> but it’s his turn, and he’s eager to take it

> you can feel how huge he is through his pants, and your jaw drops when you see him

> “Tommy, that won’t fit”

> he huffs, amused through his mask and nuzzles you reassuringly

> he starts in missionary, but then he pushes your legs up into a full mating press

> he fucks into you deep and hard, going faster until you’re babbling nonsense

> he pulls your hair and makes you look him in the eye as he cums inside

> and when he does pull out, you can feel it dripping from you

> he looks at it and then up at you excitedly, and you know what he wants

> again

[tame-the-lion-writes]

(Mild CW: weight insecurity, possible but undefined ED)

Headcanon that Konig is insecure of his size because he was a chubby kid. And sure, now he’s got more muscle than fat, but everytime someone makes a comment about him being “big” (especially if they don’t specify), he kinda internally goes—

“Oh. Okay.”

So for the longest time, he doesn’t like eating sweets or carbs in public. He has a sweet tooth—fueled largely by a doting grandmother who always baked for him whenever he came over—but kids can be mean. Kids can be cruel. So he started eating his cookies and strudels hidden behind the corners of the school playground, until he got too tall to hide and just stopped bringing them to school entirely. And soon enough. his mother was asking why he didn’t even eat them at home.

“But Schatzi, I thought you loved vanillekipferl!”

And he does, he really does. But he can’t.

The habits stick to him well into his adult life. He refrains from eating cakes at birthday parties or celebrations, and at most, he’ll choose a fruit tart. Something vaguely healthy (—but oh, how he misses sweets). He’s also kept himself on an even stricter workout plan than most of his colleagues, since he’s scared of getting big again. And he doesn’t want to be that little boy again, being whispered about and giggled about, feeling all eyes on him (—even if his height never truly let him escape).

But then he meets sweet little you. All doe eyes and gift-giving love language. And just like his grandma, you love to bake.

He was hesitant first, of course, when you started showing up with goodies in a ribbon-tied cardboard box. Sometimes even a tin box, if you were feeling fancy or it was a holiday. Almond cookies, apple pies. Hot chocolate bombs and s’mores cupcakes. But you’re so gosh darn persistent, and it all smells so gosh darn good. And one day, you burst back into his office because you forgot your phone, and you spot him in the middle of stuffing a cookie under his mask.

“… So you like it?”

His heart is dropped in his chest, pumping sheer anxiety, but the way your face lights up at the sight of him eating turns the beat into a soft fluster.

Quiet, muffled— “Ja.”

He’s gotten more comfortable eating sweets since then. Sometimes hesitates when around fellow mercs and military men, but it’s easier around strangers or in private. When he eventually does grow back some of his belly, though, and he looks himself in the mirror, you come up to him and wrap your arms around his middle. Snuggling your face into the healthy layer of fat with a smile. And he smiles, too, knowing just how well you take care of him.

“Next request?”

“Hm. How about sachertorte?”

[poppy-purpura]

whatever

[solar-calculators]

LL One of pre-iterators

[avocado-writing]

Omg i love your poly Deadpool and Wolverine fics !! I especially love that reader is totally a sunshine ! Could you do any fic with them and that trope ? 😍

vague sequel to this

Your bad day has been utterly forgotten. 

It’s not incredibly hard for them to cheer you up, Logan and Wade have learned. You’re so rarely sad that it’s hardly an issue anyway, but all they really need to do is redirect your energy into something else. A distraction to take your mind off of whatever’s gotten under your skin.  

There’s a little carnival that’s set up near the apartment. One of those ones which is constantly on the move, overcharges for everything, and is exactly the kind of place you love. So it was a no-brainer to take you there for the evening. 

Logan bought you a necklace made of hard candies, Wade took you on all the rollercoasters which were definitely not safe but you screamed with joy while riding. You’d insisted all three of you squeezed into a boat through the tunnel of love, and they’d come out the other side with your lipstick all over their faces, you smugly sandwiched between them. 

And through the evening you’ve been fucking jubilant. Your laughter rolls like thunder, but the kind which means a storm is going to clear out the oppressive atmosphere of a muggy day. A sweet, loud kind of laughter which peals from your very soul. Wade and Logan catch each other’s eye as you absolutely decimate a stick of neon blue cotton candy: they’ve done well. 

The three of you are preparing to go home when something catches your eye, slowing you to a stop as you stare. It’s a prize booth - the kind where you have to knock over a tower of tin cans to win. Hanging from the rafters are huge plushies of your favourite animal. 

“C’mon baby, you know these games are rigged,” Logan sighs, aware he’s marching into a losing battle. You lick the sugar off of your fingers and dump the wooden stick into a garbage bin, eyes wide in the fluorescent lights of the bumper cars nearby. 

“Aww… but they’re so cute…” you sigh, looking really disappointed. 

Well, neither of them are ones to let that happen, so Logan and Wade find themselves speaking in unison when they say: “I’ll win you one.”

They exchange a look and you grin. Oh. This has become a challenge, and both are too stubborn to back down. Together they step up to the counter, each slamming five dollars down and making the poor teenager manning the booth jump. 

“Uh, okay, you have two balls and need to knock the whole tower—”

The teen doesn’t even get a chance to finish their explanation before Logan has launched one of the pathetic beanbags at the cans with such force that it crumples a couple of them in half. They’re cleared off completely in one hit. The attendant can only gawp as he smugly points to one of the huge plushies which is dutifully fetched. You let out a little woop of joy as he passes it into your arms, giving Wade a look which says beat that. 

Wade hums, throwing the beanbag up and down in his hand, testing its weight. 

“Okay, well, not all of us are barbarians who need to use brute strength to compensate for our advanced age. It’s all about the finesse, pookie.”

Wade angles his throw so it bounces off the side wall, clearing all of the cans but one. Logan lets out a smug huff. Wade frowns. 

“Hey, look, is that Spiderman doing full-frontal nudity?” he says, pointing into the distance, distracting the teen with one hand while he whips out a knife with the other and skewers the can to the back of the booth. 

“Prize please!” he says when they turn back, turning pale at the sight of what’s been done to their game. They pass him another plushie from the roof with shaking hands, and Wade presents it to you with a flourish. 

“That was cheating,” Logan states as the three of you walk away.

“Uh, I cleared the cans, old man. No cheating about it.”

“You had a second ball to throw,” you point out, and Wade pauses. 

“Do you want the toy or not, sweetcheeks?”

And that is how you find yourself more stuffed animal than human, waddling out of the carnival with a huge smile and arms full of polyester. The whole thing is sort of ridiculous but, honestly, if you’re smiling? Logan and Wade can agree it’s totally worth it. 

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk @starfleetteddybear

[pseudowho]

Grandpapamin

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

When Nanami Kento becomes a grandfather...

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento thought the happiest day of his life was when he became a father...but then, his baby had a baby.

It was like love...squared.

He and you dutifully took care of your daughter's house while she was in labour. Kento pruned the plants, and baked, and paced, and paced, and paced.

While Kento knew in his heart his daughter was being well cared-for, he felt stunningly unable to protect her while she went through the biggest day of her life.

In the night, you woke, and your hand brushed out across the sheets for Kento...only to find him not there.

You creep through the house, and find him sat in the armchair by lamplight, his eyes glistening with tears as he goes through an old box, full of photographs of his baby, little onesies, a handprint in clay, a decoration she made at school, her first drawings and handwriting.

You sit with him, in front of the fire, warm and reminiscent, of those long-short years when your babies were babies.

"...she'll be alright?" He worries aloud.

"She'll be more than alright. She'll be amazing," you reassure, kissing his greying temples, stroking crow's feet.

You lead him back to bed, his hand dry, like soft warm leather, and you hold each other with the earnest familiarity of an aged love.

When Kento's phone rings at 7:37 in the morning, a time he never forgets, he is out of bed with a lithe hop, answering, desperate for news.

A sweet, swooping joy, an excited wake-up, an embrace and relief; his grandchild is born, and everyone is safe.

Kento has a grandson; his daughter is resplendent, pink-cheeked, exhausted and proud. Kento holds her close, shedding tears into her hair as she cradles his new grandson; "I'm so proud of you, darling. I always have been. You deserve him."

He drives his daughter and her partner home, knowing they are exhausted.

Kento and you never overstay your welcome; you ensure the new family is comfortable, give kisses and hasty reassurances that you are both just a phone call away, and go home.

Kento cannot stop jiggling his leg in delight on the way home. He is imagining all the wonderful things he wants to do with his new grandson.

Kento calls everyone-- Gojo, Yuuji, Ino, Higuruma. Everyone is delighted. Everyone secretly wants him to be their grandfather.

It is only when Kento and you have gone, that your partner opens the freezer-- "Oh my god!" They exclaim, laughing, "I think your dad has cooked enough to last us a month!" Kento has, obviously. He believes in being organised.

Kento spends the next few years of his life being a thoroughly naughty responsible grandfather.

Visiting Grandpapamin? Oh, only the finest will do.

While Kento always plans wonderful meals with you, his daughter turns her back for just one minute, and returns to find her son with a treat in his hand.

Kento pleads ignorance as he slides the biscuit tin back into the cupboard, a glint in his eye.

Wickedly good at hide and seek. Teaches his grandson all the tricks.

Takes his grandson down to the river, Kento in some waders, his grandson in shorts and rubber boots up to his knees, with little nets, glass jars on strings.

Kento has a reference book for everything; birds, fish, flowers, trees...he and his grandson catch minnows, his grandson splashing, holding his little round cheeks in joy.

Kento thinks his heart might burst, retaliating playfully when his grandson splashes him, giggling.

Kento's grandson is well-versed on the flora and fauna by the little river, by the time he is a grown man. All he wanted to inherit from his grandfather was the old reference books they pored over together.

His grandson inherits Kento's Cursed-sight too, a truth which Kento feels deeply responsible for, as he did when it passed down to his daughter. He fears for his grandson and the terrifying visions he will see in the world.

One day, you catch Kento teaching himself little magic tricks. He curses as he gets tangled in long colourful handkerchiefs; you laugh and blush as he pulls garish flowers out of his sleeve for you. He shows them to his grandson like he has known how to do magic his whole life.

After long sunny days in the garden and by the river, you often find Kento asleep with his snoozing grandson drooling on his chest. You take a photo, every single time, put a blanket over them and leave them in peace.

Kento, who tucks you under his arm on the sofa when they've all gone home, your evenings as intimate as they have always been.

Kento would rather his daughter didn't spend all of her hard-earned money on daycare. Instead, Grandpapamin arrives at her house at 7:30am sharp, ready to babysit ahead of the workday.

The days are silly, wholesome. Tears and tantrums are swiftly, calmly de-escalated. Kento can and will persuade and bribe at mealtimes.

Kento who is just disappointed when his grandson behaves badly-- and that is so much worse than angry.

Kento who takes such good care of his and your health, determined to spend as many healthy years with his family as possible. His old scars ache and creak though; he longs for the sun and sea.

The next year, his grandson is big enough to carry Kento's birthday cake to him, and Kento grumbles, pink-eared as he mulishly accepts a chorus of "Happy birthday". There is an envelope with the cake.

"What's this?" He grumbles again, shooting his daughter a chastising look, "I told you you didn't have to get me anything." She smiles at him, lovely brown eyes twinkling. Kento looks inside-- tickets. Flight tickets. He looks up in surprise, eyebrows raised.

"Kuantan?" He presses, excited despite his earlier chastisement.

"I thought we could all go. Together."

Though his blade hangs up on the wall, proud and displayed, at your insistence, Kento feels like he has been bestowed with the luck of the gods, to have dodged every bullet to get here.

His old scarred burns tingle and prickle, his eyepatch is old and worn, but his grandchildren never feared him; he is just Grandpapamin. He bakes. He takes them to the river. He teaches them how to whittle. He gives the best advice. He wears the softest cardigans.

Kento, who spends the golden years of his life with you, his world, the one who hung the stars.

[whimsyfinny]

Fix Your Attitude

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: (Y/n) is just like an other woman trying to function in this fucked up world - and she's starts her day with coffee. At least that was always the plan until Dean interfered.

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fingering, PinV, slightly Dom! Dean, and if you squint there's maybe possessive/jealous Dean

MDNI! 18+

Word Count: 4470

A/N: So this is technically my first ever one shot! Woop! I've written this as part of my competition from a few weeks back, and this is for the wonderful winner @spookyysinsanity ! Hope you enjoyyy.

“Seriously, Dean? What the actual fuck!?” The audacity of the older Winchester brother had me throwing my hands up in frustration, my irritable tone bouncing off the walls in the kitchen and landing on ears that couldn’t possibly care any less.

“Should’ve got here sooner, sweetheart. You know how it is; first come first serve,” he tauntingly raised his coffee mug to my dishevelled figure standing over the empty coffee pot. The lack of caffeinated bean-water had brought a panic-sweat to my temples, knowing all too well how things would pan out if I didn’t get what I needed.

“How many cups have you had?”

“What?” He blinked frustratingly slowly - he knew what I’d asked.

“Jerk - I said ‘how many cups have you had’?”

“Hmmm…” he tapped his finger against the side of the mug, lips pursing over feigned thoughts.

“DEAN.”

“Maybe… three?” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly - although the nonchalant bubble popped when a sly smirk slipped through the cracks. My mouth opened and closed a few times, words forming and disappearing too rapidly through my mind to even make it past my lips as desperation sizzled into rage.

“You DICK!”

“Hey don’t yell at me - just make another pot,” he held his hands up defensively.

My eyes flitted over to the empty tin on the side - an empty tin left tauntingly in plain sight.

“You know damn well I can’t do that! We’re out of coffee, totally out. Zilch. Nothing. Empty.”

“Well,” he lifted his mug to his lips, “not totally empty.”

“What do you- oh…OH,” I felt my razor sharp glare zero in on the mug at his lips - there had to be at least half a cup in there with how little he had to tilt it up before taking a gulp. I took a step forward and jabbed my finger towards the prize.

“Give me that.”

He offered me nothing but raised eyebrows and a loud slurp.

“Dean.”

Again, silence only echoed back, however my frustration towards him started to buzz in my head as he slowly lowered the mug to unveil a slap-worthy grin.

“DEAN.”

He gently placed the mug on the table and turned to me, large arms crossing over his broad chest as he settled in his chair, thighs spreading wide for comfort.

“Wow, I thought I was grouchy in the mornings before coffee but damn, sweetheart you’re really claiming first place with that one.”

I took a step closer, my eyes practically burning a hole in the cup next to him on the table. His grin widened as he noticed me stalking forwards, like a predator ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. However my prey was incredibly suspecting and, in all honesty, not really prey at all. My bare feet padded quietly towards him, each tentative step raising more suspicion in Dean as my desperation for caffeine became all-consuming and my honed hunting skills became sloppy. I gave myself away when I tore my gaze from the mug and glanced over at Dean, catching his amused smirk and playful eyes before I lunged forward, hands grasping at air where the liquid-treasure should have been. Spinning on my heel after almost colliding with the table I turned to face Dean, now standing a few steps behind me with one hand wrapped around the ceramic and the other dipping lazily into the pocket of his jeans.

“Come on darlin’ you’re better than that.”

“Fuck you.”

A low whistle floated in the air between us before he tutted at me, shaking his head slowly.

“So mean.”

“Says you!”

“Hey I got here first - I'm the victim here. You're the one trying to rob me.”

“Don't play that game - you are not the victim here. All of your bullshit has been calculated,” I narrowed my eyes up at him as he traced his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Maybe it has been. Not much you can do about it now though is there?” His eyes glinted like the tricksters before he took another gulp of his coffee. I could feel my palms growing sweaty in apprehension, knowing all too well that the coffee level was dropping inside that cup.

Time to try a different approach. Something more… tactical.

“You know…” I pulled a lock of hair between my fingers, twirling it around, “you're my favourite Winchester.”

I paused and he raised his eyebrows, suspecting yet silently urging for more.

“Sam is just so nice and tall but…” I quietly stepped towards him, inwardly cheering when he made no attempt to move away.

“But?”

“But I mean look at you, so ruggedly handsome… and with that authentic ‘tough guy’ personality to make all the ladies swoon. And don't even get me started on these broad shoulders and big arms of yours…” I padded around him, tracing a single finger delicately up one arm, over the back of his shoulders and down the other arm. I almost missed the small shiver that ghosted over his skin and raised the hairs on his exposed forearms.

“Oh, so you like what you see?” He raised an eyebrow, his voice subtly dropping to a deeper tone.

I chewed my bottom lip slightly before stopping in front of him, a hair's breadth away. From here I could smell the masculine scent of his cologne - the same one I'd only ever known him to wear - and the subtle, intoxicating scent of leather and gunpowder. Combined, those three items were the very essence of Dean, the warmth of it all clinging to his clothes and practically seeping from his pores. I couldn't stop myself from taking a deep breath and letting the hypnotic scent travel straight to my brain. He’d always smelt divine, but I was never going to give him the satisfactory access to that information.

Upon tilting my head up to lock eyes with him, I could feel his coffee-scented breath fan over my face, the smell of what I wanted most almost making my mouth water. I couldn't let myself become enveloped in the addictive haze around him - I needed to remember what I was here for without letting myself become distracted.

Evergreen eyes flitted between mine, unsure of my next move. But the more I looked into them, the more dilated his pupils became. I couldn't help but grin a little to myself, relishing in his reaction.

“Come on Dean, just hand over the coffee. I know deep down that you really want to…”

He hummed, the sound a little gravelly as it emanated from his chest.

“You see sweetheart,” he smirked a little as he gripped the mug, lifting it to his lips. The action immediately caused me to take an urgent step forwards, a part of me truly believing that he would drain the cup right there and then. He must've seen the panic jolt through me as he released a small, breathy laugh.

“I see what?”

“You see… I don't think it's coffee that you need to stop being such a bitch in the morning.”

My eyes immediately narrowed towards him at his choice of words. He can make it so easy to look past his good looks when he acts like such an ass.

“What the actual fuck does that mean?”

“Oh I think you know what it means.”

“Fuck you, Dean.”

“If you want.”

“Go to- wait what?” I felt my heart leap in my chest, my mind unsure if I wanted to have heard him correctly.

His smirk spread across his face as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his mossy green gaze dragging over my figure as though I were totally naked.

“You heard me,” he took a step forward, his boots heavy on the hard kitchen floor. My cheeks burned, and I wasn't sure if it was from whatever scandalous thoughts of him I'd pushed to the back of my mind that I never intended to humour, or the rage bubbling to the surface at the sheer audacity from him, thinking I'd just accept this sort of shitty attitude.

“You’re crazy if you think that I’d let you in my pants,” the bewilderment in my voice was evident, and so was the growing frustration. This conversation had taken a wild turn and it’s safe to say that I didn’t like the direction it was headed. It was a rocky path of buried desires and a cocky male ego - a male ego that somehow knew what buttons to press to get my temper sizzling.

“Oh but sweetheart I could make it so good…” his voice was like caramel, becoming harder to ignore as he took another step forward, backing me into the table. I swallowed the almost nervous lump that had started to form in my throat, my heart rate quickening with every second he looked at me with those darkening eyes.

“And why would you want to do that?” I did well at hiding the slight nervous wobble in my voice. He chuckled slightly before breaking eye contact and looking down at his boots, thinking for a moment before shooting his eyes back to me, his intense gaze burning into mine.

“Because for once, I’d love to see that smart mouth of yours moan my name.”

I couldn’t stop that small gasp that escaped between my parted lips at his sudden bold statement, and that small gasp seemed to be all that it took to invite Dean in. In one fluid movement he drained the remainder of the coffee into his mouth and took a final step forward, closing the gap between us and wrapped a single strong arm around my waist, pulling me firmly against his body. His other hand quickly discarded the mug before grasping my face, his thumb pushing into my cheek and urging me to open my mouth. Before I was able to conjure a single thought he’d pulled my mouth to his, his plush lips covering mine before transferring that mouthful of coffee over to me. My eyes widened at the sudden appearance of warm liquid gliding over my tongue, the flavour of coffee, sweetened with sugar, would have soothed my senses if it wasn’t for the way it was administered. I hurriedly swallowed it down, not caring for the trickle that escaped the corner of my lips, now more preoccupied with Dean Winchesters mouth pressing onto mine. He allowed one… two… three heated kisses before pulling away, leaving me gasping and gripping the edge of the table for dear life. As he pulled away, he released his grip on my jaw, spotting the trickle of coffee and catching the droplets with his thumb. I didn’t intend to dwell on the action too much, at least not until he pushed his coffee-coated thumb past my lips and into my mouth, pressing lightly on my tongue. Still taken aback by the kiss, I stared up at him dumbly, my mind simultaneously racing whilst emptying itself of all logical thoughts. On instinct, I licked the coffee from his thumb, hearing a gruff hum of approval from him.

“Look at you - quiet for once.”

Before I could retaliate to his comment he pulled his thumb from my mouth and grasped my jaw again, a little softer this time as he guided my face to his. His lips grazed mine as he spoke.

“Have you finished acting like a bitch?”

I nodded.

“Are you sure? Because I think I should fuck you on this table here - just to be sure.”

The involuntary shiver that shimmied down my spine gave my innermost thoughts away when Dean noticed it; another smirk gracing his lips as he pulled himself between my knees and grasped under my thighs to lift me onto the table. I hissed slightly as the cold surface bit at my bare rear, the oversized Metallica t-shirt doing nothing to shield me as it rode up on my hips. There was a short moment, like a breath taken and held as we paused to look at each other. His eyes darkened like a forest at dusk, piercing into my own before studying my lips. I found myself doing the same to him, watching how his gaze darted up and down, frantic to find a focal point on my face whilst his lips parted, tongue poking out to wet them. We shared each other's hot coffee-scented breath, my heartbeat starting to echo in my ears as my blood began to run hot at the thought of him taking me right here on this table. He chewed slightly on his bottom lip, the fantasies of my own prurient mind running rampant at what that mouth was capable of doing to me. What I undeniably wanted it to do to me. Before another thought appeared he hastily leaned in and planted a searing kiss on my neck, his stubble tickling my ear whilst one large, strong hand planted itself just below my shoulder blades; his whole arm crushing me against him. Everything he did made me want to purr. His lips exceeded expectations as he kissed red-hot paths up and down my neck; my skin prickling when he pressed his lips below my ear and jaw, pulling pathetic whimpers from my lungs. He kneaded the silky-soft flesh of my thigh with his other hand, eventually causing me to gently hook my legs around him to ease the desperate need to writhe at his every touch.

“Dean…” his name left my lips as an airy gasp when the hand on my thigh travelled up, his thumb hooking under the waistband of my panties.

“What happened to that big, tough girl persona? Can’t really take it huh?” His taunting words went straight to my brain when he spoke them with his lips pressed right to my ear.

“Fuck, Dean… I hate you.”

He chuckled, placing a kiss on my cheek before uttering over my lips:

“Of course you do, sweetheart.”

As his sentence ceased as his mouth claimed mine, muffling the moan bubbling in my throat as his tongue pushed against my own. I reached one hand up to tug on his hair, dragging my nails across his scalp when the strands at the base of his skull were too short to grasp. He groaned into the kiss, lips moving faster at the sensation of my fingertips. His broad chest became a resting spot for my other hand, the taught muscle flexing beneath soft skin as I glided my delicate fingers up to clutch his shoulder. It was like being in a trance; the only thing I was capable of thinking about was him. Dean. The strength of his hand on my back contrasting the tenderness of the one on my thigh. The heat of his mouth, his tongue on mine, consuming my gasps and ragged breaths. His devouring reduced me to naught but lustful putty in his arms, especially when an assured hand slid from my hip to my ribs and a gentle thumb smoothed over the softness of the underside of my breast. The feather-light touch caused goosebumps to erupt on my skin, the warmth of his palm doing nothing to soothe them away. When a groan passed my lips at his actions, he gripped tighter, my legs instinctively pulling him closer. This time it was Dean that groaned, as pulling him towards me had pressed the ever-growing bulge in his jeans against the soft cotton of my panties. The sensation was electric, igniting the fiery ache between my legs as my thighs twitched when he didn't pull away - instead pushing himself against me harder. I sucked in a breath where I could, his lips refusing to leave mine, even to let me breathe. He was hungry. Animalistic. Dominating. I don't know what I'd been imagining when I was alone in my room in the depths of night, but this… this was something I'd never fantasised about. How commanding he was, how he pulled me in with stern words and an air of authority. Gone was the boyish charm and playful pickup lines - this was something that could easily suck me in and pull me under. He could drown me in sharp comments and tantalising games.

And I would let him.

“Look at you, twitching like a virgin,” he pulled away enough to huskily speak against the corner of my mouth. I moaned slightly, biting my lip when his thumb moved from the underside of my breast to my nipple, delicately toying with the perky skin.

“Who's to say I'm not?” My voice was more breathy than I'd anticipated, my head lolling back when he started to trail kisses down my neck again. My comment pulled a laugh from his chest, the sound almost cutting through the sexual haze.

“Oh darlin’, don't think I don't know about your motel room escapades - I was always in the room next to yours,” he finally pulled back slightly to look at me, the cool air flooding between us in his absence. As my eyes met his, my heart hammered in my chest at the raw blackness of his irises - pupils blown wide with hot arousal and leaving no soft greens in sight. I could feel my cheeks heating up with embarrassment, realisation creeping in. Dean took it all in with a grin on his lips.

“That's right sweetheart - I heard it all. Every little noise you made when those jerk-offs touched you. When they tried to make you feel good,” his smile faltered slightly before he leaned in a little closer, “but you know, I never heard any of them make you cum. I only ever heard you finish when they were gone and you were all alone.”

He pressed more of those red-hot kisses just below my jaw, the hand on my breast descending, trailing a path down the soft skin of my abdomen before disappearing down the front of my panties. A moan tore from my throat when he slid his skilled fingers through my folds to gather my pooling wetness, his hum of approval ringing in my ears when my mind emptied at his fingers tracing circles around my clit. My grip on him was vice-like, whimpers already tumbling off my tongue.

“You know (Y/n), you should've just come to me. You should've told those useless bastards to fuck off and let me do everything you needed me to do,” his breath was hot against my neck as he spoke, and he finished his sentence off by finally pressing a rough finger against my clit. I whined like a bitch in heat as he went around and around and around, making me clench around nothing and crave him in his entirety.

“I would've done this to you every night - made you forget everything but my name.”

“Dean…”

“Thas’right sweetheart. Never would've left you unsatisfied.”

“Please, Dean… please… I need you to fuck me,” my words were desperate and I could tell he relished in that, suddenly plunging two thick digits inside me without so much as a word. My hands flew to his back, nails digging into broad muscle as I leaned into him, burying my flushed face into his neck and breathing in his intoxicating scent. He curled his fingers up and pushed against the pleasure-cushion inside me, knowing exactly what to look for and what to do with it. My legs tightened even more around him as I was unable to stop the euphoric twitches jolting through my limbs. He removed his hand that was pressed below my shoulder blades and lifted it to my hair, unclipping the claw-grip to let the unruliness tumble out. He practically chucked the plastic clip to the table before threading his fingers through my hair, grasping close to my scalp before tugging my head back to make me look at him.

“Now that you've dropped your attitude and asked nicely, I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk.”

He pressed his fingers inside me one final time, drawing another pathetic whimper from my lips before pulling his fingers out and lifting them to his lips. I watched, mouth agape and breaths ragged as he licked my slick from his digits, savouring the taste of me with a satisfied groan.

“That’s the best shit I’ve ever tasted,” his deep, gravelly tone had me reaching desperately for his belt buckle as Dean claimed my mouth again, his own eagerness starting to show. As I finished unzipping his jeans I pushed them down his hips just enough to dip my hand into his boxers and pull his cock free. A deep moan pushed its way into my mouth as I curled my fingers around his length, his size already intimidating as his cock rested hot and heavy in my palm. I wasted no time on gripping him tight, starting gentle motions going up and down again, and again, and again, causing Dean to move both hands to my thighs - his grip on me threatening to leave bruises. I dragged my thumb over his tip, urging a blissful shudder to surge through him as I smeared the gathering precum up and down his length. His lips never once left mine. I could feel him becoming breathless as I slowly increased the speed of my hand, so I caught his bottom lip between my teeth as a means to pull away for a moment. As I breathed in his contented groan, I pulled back slightly further to get a look at his face.

“Dean… Dean please - I need you inside me-”

“Stop fucking around then and c’mere.”

I squeaked a little at his harsh tone, unable to stop the next words from tumbling out.

“Yessir.”

I watched his brows knit together and his eyes almost roll before he dropped his head to my neck, grabbing the underside of my thighs and dragging me right to the edge of the table. With one hand he grabbed his cock and used it to move my underwear to one side before lining up and sinking in. The lascivious moans that spilled from our lips were almost harmonious, Dean pushing in to the hilt and forcing me to wrap one arm around his neck and the other to prop me up behind me - both stopping me from losing my balance under Deans intensity. Dean looked as though he was getting lost in a sexual haze as he crushed me against him again with one arm, having the decency to remain still for a few moments so I could adjust to his size as he eye-wateringly stretched out my insides - the sensation almost burning.

“Jesus- fuck-” his breath was slightly strained as he groaned into my neck, “now I’m mad that you decided to fuck lonely jerk-offs instead of me - with a pussy like this- shit- I would’ve been crawling back for more.”

He started to move slowly, pulling out gently before slipping back in - easing me into it with sexual expertise.

“Oh fuck- Dean- you don’t mean that-”

“(Y/n) you’d have to shoot me to stop me - you feel too fucking good.”

He started to up the tension - dropping every ounce of softness as he lost control of that part of him. He fucked the same way that he hunted monsters: raw, skilful and always in control - my mind racing with the knowledge of how dangerous this man actually was. He was Dean fucking Winchester, and here he was - fucking me over the breakfast table whilst I wore nothing but a band t-shirt. As he pounded into me and the intensity grew I was unable to stop the lewd noises tumbling from my lips. Such lewd noises however seemed to spur Dean on, the power of his thighs and hips inching the heavy wooden table across the floor.

“How are you still so fucking tight-” his words were almost slurred, his sexually inebriated mind seemingly becoming obsessed.

“Shit- Dean, I’m getting close already,” my eyes squeezed shut as I began to feel that familiar knot in the depths of my core. With every thrust he dragged over every over-sensitive nerve ending, unravelling me quicker than I’d even been unravelled before.

“Oh yeah? You wanna cum?”

I nodded my head vigorously, loose strands of hair falling around my face as tears started to well in my eyes. Dean glanced down at me without so much as a stutter in his hips, a slight grin playing on his lips even in a moment like this.

“Tears?”

“Fuck-fuck- you Dean, it's not my f-fault you're the first one to fuck me properly- oh God-”

“Well I'm glad it was me sweetheart,” he tried to keep up the slightly playful tone but I could see in his eyes that he was on the brink as well. Without another word he moved one hand to push lightly on my lower belly, his thumb dipping down to rub soft circles over that oh-so-sensitive bundle of nerves. I gasped at the contact, Dean taking the opportunity to plant uncharacteristically soft kisses on my parted lips before whispering:

“I need you to cum for me - I need you to let go. I've got you darlin’.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The circles drawn with his thumb increased in speed and as did the pounding of his hips against mine.

“Dean- Dean please-”

I could feel him winding that knot tighter, and tighter, and tighter; lifting the euphoria coursing through my veins to its highest peak before the white-hot heat of orgasmic bliss erupted inside me. Wave after wave after wave of pleasure cascaded down, drowning me in the most earth shattering climax I'd ever experienced. I could feel myself tightening repeatedly around Dean, his thrusts becoming frantic before his own release rolled through him.

“Oh Fuck- (Y/n)-”

His guttural groan into the crook of my neck sent a shiver down my spine and goosebumps across my skin, the sound of him cumming making me clench even tighter around him.

“You squeeze me any tighter darlin’ and you're gonna kill me,”

“I-I’m not- I mean- I'm sorry?”

He groaned again when I twitched slightly, this time he pulled back to look me in the eye, taking note of the drying tear-tracks and smudged mascara.

“You good?”

“Y-yeah, I'm good,” I huffed out a deep, contented sigh, "I am so, so good.”

He grinned, the assertiveness from earlier seeming to dissipate and the good ‘ol Dean was returning.

“Best you've ever had?” His green eyes twinkled mischievously.

I playfully slapped his shoulder, not impacting the smirk on his lips whatsoever.

“Easy there cowboy - if your ego gets any bigger there'll be no living with you.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

I chewed on my bottom lip slightly, making him wait a little for the answer before I replied with a grin of my own.

“Yeah, definitely the best I've ever had.”

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Taglist: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @calibootsgirl @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @lyarr24 @autistic-gothic @wattpaduser200

[fwibblefwobble]

Jason Todd loves a lazy Sunday morning.

He wakes with his cheek smushed against the pillow. Blinking slowly, he lifts his head to assess his situation. The first rays of morning peek through the weave of the curtains, dousing the bedroom in a soft glow. The comforter bunches around your bodies, insulating your shared warmth. His left arm dangles lazily from your midsection. Your slow, even puffs of breath warm his chest through the thin cotton of his sleep shirt. He tilts his chin to look down at you, and relaxes. You're snuggled close and safe in his arms, right where you should be. His head falls back against the pillow and he closes his eyes. For once, he allows himself the indulgence of falling back asleep.

The second time he wakes, the clock face reflects 10:36. You begin to stir from sleep, slipping your hand from his back to rub at your eyes. He yawns, exhaling the funk of morning breath right into your face. Your nose scrunches and you feign offense before doing the very same right back at him. He recoils playfully, swatting at the air in front of his face.

The two of you lay in bed for another five minutes before he pulls you up from the bed and into the bathroom. He smiles at the way toothbrushes lean against each other in their container. It's the first thing he looks for in the morning, small but tangible proof of the life you've built together. He needs them, sometimes - reminders of the life he's living, the reality he has trouble trusting. Little pinch-me's litter the bathroom: his razor next to your face wash on the counter, two pairs of bathroom slippers tucked neatly against the wall, the mingled medicine cabinet. He smiles at them all as he brushes his teeth next to you. The two of you make eye contact in the mirror and exchange sleepy grins, sudsy mouths and all. He hums contentedly when you rope him into your morning routine, dutifully rubbing in the various serums and creams you dab onto his face.

He follows you into the kitchen afterwards to perform your respective morning tasks. It's a mutual compromise: Jason decides food, and you decide beverage of the morning. Today calls for tea, you think, reaching for the tin of lapsang souchong in the pull-out drawer. The pan sizzles softly behind you and you turn, interested. The sight of Jason, bedheaded and domestic, makes your heart squeeze in your chest. You can't help but walk over and press a kiss between his shoulder blades on your way to fill the kettle. He turns, gesturing at you to kiss him proper before going about your way.

A comfortable silence hangs between the both of you as you eat, intermittently broken by the scraping of silverware and sounds of eating. Diffused sunlight warms your skin to a glow, swathing your body golden against the shadows of the apartment. Jason admires you over the tilt of his coffee mug. He loves you like this, tousled and swallowed by your sleep shirt. He loves watching you eat the food he makes you. It helps him reconcile with the hands that made it, that they’re still capable of loving and nurturing despite the brutal take, take, take of his night job. You catch his stare and slow your chews, swallowing.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just lookin’ at you.”

“Something on my face?” You brush off the sides of your mouth.

“No, dumbass. I just think you’re pretty.”

You blink, your brain lagging in a response to dumbass and pretty said in succession.

Your face reflects your hesitation, and he laughs. He takes the opportunity to reach for your hand, kissing the inside of your palm and cupping his face. The display warms your heart and numbs your retort. You exhale through your nose, quirking your lips. It’s impossible to be miffed at him when he blinks slowly at you with those stupidly gorgeous eyes, blue and gleaming with mirth like burnished sea glass. He flutters his eyelashes at you, and all your remaining fight acquiesces.

“Was there anything you wanted to do today?”

He hums, considering. His head shakes no.

“Lazy day in, then?”

His head tilts, interested.

“What do you have in mind?” he asks.

“Well… we could finally do that read-a-thon thing we’ve been wanting to do for a while.”

You pause, considering. “I read your favorite, you read mine, and we can live react to each other?”

His face splits into a wide grin. “Deal.”

The rest of the day is spent on the couch with his head on your lap and a book in his hands. You mirror him in an upright position, fingers threading lazily through his hair in between flipping pages. Every so often, you look down at your hulking lap cat of a boyfriend to check in. Each time, you find contentment resting soft and easy on his face. Your heart squeezes with affection, proud of the little slice of heaven you’ve carved out of his day off.

Peace looks good on him, you think.