#add to that that i can’t even get air into my room because it’s just air that 40 degrees hot and there’s no movement of air

[cinnamqnx]

virtually yours ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆

pairing. seishiro nagi x f!reader

summary. you’re not a usually a gamer girl, occasionally playing the sims or roblox, so imagine your surprise when a clip of you & your best friend goes viral for talking shit to who you imagined was a 12 year old kid, but actually a popular streamer with a territorial fan base and of all place, on dress to impress.

warnings. basically just crack & fluff, nagi is a lil toxic at the start, swearing

05 | pink tulips

[y/n] joined the game

you joined bachira’s minecraft game, despite seeing he was playing with 3 other people because, y’know, why not? it looked to be a basic survival world with you spawning in the middle of a forest.

[seiro] who invited this little troublemaker?

[baabaabachira] mee :3

[baabaabachira] is it ok if she joins us ?

[seiro] fine but don’t go near my house

[y/n] wasn’t planning to?

[Football526] hi y/n

[y/n] hi who is football526

[baabaabachira] isagi!!

[y/n] why is he called that..

[Football526] i made it when i was 12 :/

[baabaabachira] y/n i’ll come find u and show u my house ok? :]

[y/n] okiii

you had finally managed to make it to where the boys had built their houses and had their base set up, a nether portal, a fairly large farm and cave where they clearly had been mining. bachira had even let you make your own room in his house! how cute is he?

you left his cutely decorated house to get more materials for your room, with nagi’s minecraft character waiting for you right outside.

[seiro] hello

[y/n] um hi

[seiro] i give u this

he flicks through his inventory, holding a pink tulip, giving it you before crouching a few times and running away. how strange?

bachira quickly comes running out his house after seeing the chat pop up on his screen.

[baabaabachira] wat did he give u?

[y/n] tulip

you type in the chat, the tulip still in your hand.

[baabaabachira] GASP a PINK tulip!!!

[baabaabachira] that’s so cute hehe :3

[r.reo] what am i reading rn?

[baabaabachira] shhhh

[Football526] i’m so confused

[baabaabachira] i think… LOVE IS IN THE AIR!!

an hour or so later

[y/n] left the game

[baabaabachira] left the game

[Football526] left the game

[r.reo] ok what was that about

[r.reo] why did u give her a flower anyway

[seiro] idk i think she’s pretty

[r.reo] are u fr

[r.reo] u caused all that drama just to say u thought she was pretty this whole time

[seiro] i got nervous :/

[r.reo] ur such a nightmare

[seiro] :p

navigation. virtually yours

next chapter. 06

author’s note: pretty short chapter, wasn’t sure how to write for minecraft tbh 😭 also the taglist is now closed! i unfortunately can’t add anymore people :(

taglist: @nensi @yuiearyi @mi2ukiss @pookalicious-hq @shumeow-h @solaqes @jellychannie @kermitbbg69 @pctterheadd @mizuwki @simpingmyassoff @karasu4life @crispynutella @stwberri @lilwx @suksatoru @rwura @ibyobi @renchai @nuhahani @digitaltrippers @natsukicookies @meekydeeks @ursafehaven @tamimemo @yukari1k @chaoslibra @mochiii-sama @cookielovesbook-akie @ningninjas @wallflowerdowned @hannimissesherbackbone @dinnersyummy @appalost @mbyy00 @asteraslvrr @kaz-0e @kascar-chronicle @arwawawa2 @rwbie @haruhi269 @lovessen @kaiserlvr @azharyy @hwaassaa @mikaru0 @sobbangchan @thenightsflower @chuurinnie @appl3-0rchard (closed)

[revelboo]

I know its not ENTIRELY the case but I love how Waspinator's like "Dating? Got it. I can do dating. Im gonna be the BEST at dating. And then, i will have unrestricted access to Nap Lap, the most coveted place."

He’s trying his hardest

Worker Bee Pt 17

Waspinator x Reader

• Sprawled face down on your bed, you’re immediately awake when you hear and feel the bed shifting and creaking. He’d stayed in the living room watching cartoons with the rapt focus of a toddler for the bright colors and let you sneak off to bed alone last night. Apparently, he’d finally noticed you’d abandoned him. And you groan when his heavy weight comes down partially on top of you, forcing the air from your lungs. “You’re too heavy,” you groan, squirming to wiggle out from under him and he settles for just his head and an arm against your back. And a leg kicked out across yours. Sighing and resisting the urge to grab a pillow to beat him with, your nose wrinkles. Why does he smell like freshly turned soil? Has he been digging in your yard? He’s behaving at least and you’re too sleepy to care about holes in your yard.

• Venting against you, he’s alert until your breathing evens out and only then does he allow himself to recharge. Had checked the perimeter of his hive after returning to make sure all was well. Hadn’t been able to find any pretty flowers with the snow, but he’s pleased with what he had found to offer you. Sure that you’ll be impressed with him and accept his courting gift. And food? He’s seen you prepare your weird smelling food from the tall, cold box and the small beeping box. Simple enough.

• “Little friend?” What time is it? Ignoring as he croons at you, the mattress shifting when he moves over you. If you ignore him, he might go away and let you sleep. “Little friend.” Feel his mandibles slides through your hair and against the back of your neck to make your skin crawl. And then his wet glossa slides behind your ear and there’s no pretending you’re not awake anymore when you shriek and nearly elbow him in the face. “Awake?”

• “What’s have I said about licking me?” You growl, words becoming a wheeze when he slumps against your warmth to vent against your skin. “Can’t breathe.” Hooking an arm around you, he rolls so you’re sprawled on him, his wings flared out under him. And your eyes narrow when you look around. “There’s mud in my bed,” you say, voice that carefully neutral tone you use right before you get angry with him. And he whines when you sit up on him to stare at the mud smeared on your skin from him. Clawed servos resting on your hips, he’s afraid to move in case you bolt. “Why is there mud everywhere?” Knows how dangerous that calm tone is. That his little friend is about to yell at Waspinator most likely.

• “Waspinator’s little friend very lovely,” he manages and that is the last thing you expect from the big idiot. Startling a snorting laugh out of you, because if he thinks that’s going to get him out of trouble, he’s gravely mistaken. “Little friend’s frame very soft,” he adds and now you are laughing, because he’s so terrible at whatever this is? Painfully awkward flirting? That thought sobers you, because no. There’s no way he’s flirting. “Pretty scent.” Yeah, nope. This is getting uncomfortable now.

• “I smell like dirt right now, but thanks,” you mutter, sliding off of him to make his frame strain and another buzzing whine escapes him. Rolling onto his side to watch you purse your soft lips and examine the room, his antenna go back when you smile. “There’s more dirt, isn’t there?”

• “Prepared food for little friend,” he says, words a bit too quick as he rolls off your bed and follows you down the hall. How is there mud on the ceiling? Squinting back at him, that he’d fixed you food is especially horrifying. Bug breath eats silverware. And he bumps into you when you stop short at the living room. Is that an azalea bush? Roots and all? And what is that stink? “Flowers for little friend. Dating.” What are the symptoms of a stroke, because you can’t breathe right now, staring at the mess. Dating? What does he mean dating? And the fire alarm chooses right then to start screaming.

Previous

[elnotwoods]

if one additional hoe tells me they’re excited about summer i will kill someone and then walk into the motherfucking traffic

[confused-wanderer]

It would be hilarious if villains loved Nightwing and were terrified of Officer Dick Grayson.

Dick Grayson- who is used to open spaces and adrenaline- being stuck in a boring bleak office, surviving on shots of coffee and red bull with caffeine that would make Tim concerned.

The thugs soon realised that unlike most of the other cops - Dick was from Gotham.

No one fucks with Gothamites.

Villain *shooting at Dick with machine guns*

Dick *appearing from the shadows behind him*: Boo.

Villain: THIS IS A FIVE STOREY BUILDING HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET HERE

Or

Thief *throwing a counting down bomb at Dick*

Dick: *catching and tossing the bomb at a safe distance before turning round and shooting it so it explodes mid air while running after thief*

Thief: .. what the actual fuck

Dick: Gee look at all that time you had! Shame you threw it away :D

Thief:

Dick: I’m from Gotham

Thief *realising they fucked up* : Please don’t steal my bones

OR

Shooter: *sets elaborate booby traps throughout the houses in an active hostage situation*

Dick *using his training as robin and inhuman flexibility to surpass them with ease*: Ah been a while since I got to have a nice stretch thank you.

Shooter:

Dick:

Shooter:

Dick: .. Hi :)

Shooter: Are you Satan?

AND

In interrogation room

Murderer: I think I’ll take your eyes and add them to my collection

Dick *running on spite and caffeine that could give Superman a sugar rush* : Funny.. I was going to say the same thing to you

Murderer: .. what

Dick: I wouldn’t take your eyes though.. they look like the inspiration behind the whole Medusa’s “look at it and you turn to stone” thing-

Murderer: Hey! Take that back before I gut you

Dick *smile stretching wider without blinking* : oh? Or what? I know everything about you. Who says I can’t kill you and walk out with everyone being none the wiser? I know how to kill someone too..you aren’t special.

Murderer:

Murderer: I’m scared for my safety.

Because the thing is, Nightwing is who Dick really is. It’s who he can be free as, be himself as without red tapes and regulations. Where he can give as good as he gets, and he’s kind and empathetic. He gets to help the downtrodden and goes easy on most of them if they give up right away, not to mention the fact that he never causes permanent damage.

But officer Dick Grayson is a different story. He runs on sleepless nights and no self preservation. Seeing an officer with an uncanny skill set they’re scarily good at, not to mention the cheery attitude he always has scares the shit out of criminals. Cuz no way in hell is a smiling Gothamite not a deranged one. He chases crimes like a bloodhound, and isn’t afraid to make good on threats he makes to ensure they never hurt anyone again.

Bonus if the batfam doesn’t know about this.

Red hood: Shit I can’t believe we ended up in Bludhaven

Red Robin *tying up the corrupt politican* : Since this is a sensitive case, we need someone we can trust to make sure it is seen through.

Red hood: .. So we paying a visit to Officer Grayson?

Politician *screeching* : NO NO NO NO! PLEASE NOT HIM!! JUST KILL ME INSTEAD AND TAKE ALL MY MONEY I CANT DEAL WITH HIM!

Red hood: .. is he fucking serious?

Henchmen: Sir he is. And we agree. Please take our bones and kill us but don’t take us to Officer Grayson.

Red Robin: Wait what did he do?

Henchman 1: He asked boss if the hat was sentient.. and said that if it was would it make that hat the top and boss the bottom.

Henchman 2: Last time we met I tried to shoot him but suddenly my gun was blank and he raised his hand and let the ammo drop

Red Hood: Well even I could do that-

Henchman 2: They were my bullets. I had selected the colour personally.

Red robin *growing concerned*

Henchman 3: He sang a lullaby to a child when we were holding the station hostage, and replaced the people with my family members. He even sang their social security numbers!

Henchman 4: He’s the most dangerous of them all. I ain’t shitting ya when I say he’s as scary as the bat from Gotham.

*all nodding in agreement*

Red hood:

Red Robin:

Red hood: Nah that doesn’t sound like Dick

Red Robin: Agreed. Let’s go there Hood.

*villains’ sobbing intensifies*

[thundersoothers]

spike, the dog (still derogatory)

who: John Price x wife!reader

what: continuation of this fic and this thought about john price being a softie for his wife and the dog you found on the side of the road (y’all LOVEDDDDD this, thank u omg)

word count: 0.9k

“We are not naming the fucking dog Gremlin.”

“Pooh Bear.” 

“No.” 

You and John are sitting in the living room, staring at the dog you picked up from the side of the road a few days ago, trying to come up with a name for him.  

Convincing your husband to let you keep the dog was a challenge.  It felt like you were debating with judge, jury, and executioner.  Stakes were high.  He was sitting across from you at the dining room table, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.  His eyes were narrowed at you and his face was expressionless, giving nothing away as you plead your case. 

Somehow, you won. 

So now, here you both are, brainstorming names to replace “Puppy”.  You’re holding the dog in your arms on the couch and John is sitting across from you in his chair. 

“And where the hell did you come up with these names?” 

“I have a list.” 

“You have a list?” 

“I have a list,” you say, “of dog names and baby names.  Every girl does.” 

And then, for just a second, the room stills. 

“Baby names?” John asks. 

A shiver runs up the bottom of your spine and you sit up a little straighter.  You feel the air buzz and John’s heavy gaze on you. 

“Yeah,” you say, glancing at John and then back at the dog in your lap.  “But—Pooh Bear?” 

After a long second, he says, “No.”

“Georgie Banks.” 

“The actress?” 

“Wha— no, fucker, Georgie Banks from Mary Poppins.” 

“… I’ll consider it.  What else.” 

“Ja’Marcus.” 

“My love,” he says, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands together, looking at you seriously.  “What the fuck are you talking about.  It’s a dog.” 

“Tra’davious.” 

“I’m making a list,” he scoffs, sitting back again.  “Jesus.” 

“It’s a nice name!” you exclaim.  “What are you gonna name him, Scout?” 

He looks at you.  

You look at him. 

“No.”  Your face drops and you almost shudder.  “No, John, that’s not even funny.” 

“Oreo?”  The corner of his mouth twitches but he quickly steels himself. 

“Stop.”  You hold the dog close to your chest, horrified. 

“Rocky?” 

“No!” 

“Buddy?” 

“John.” 

“We could just call him Puppy.” 

“What is this, Bird Box?  When Sandra Bullock named her kids Boy and Girl?  We can’t just name the dog Dog.  We would sound like neglectful parents.” 

“Your friend has a dog named Cat,” John says. 

“And that gets confusing because she just got a cat.  I think she’ll have to rename Cat.  And by Cat I mean the dog.  Jesus,” you mutter, shaking your head, eyebrows furrowed.  What a mess that would be. 

“We could name him after your team…?” you say, the idea popping into your head.  Then, you frown.  “I’m not calling him Kyle, though.  That’s too human.  Ghost?  He is—you know.”  You rub over the dog’s mangey back gently.  “A little ghastly, still.” 

“Riley?” 

“Who’s Riley?” 

“No one.”

You eye him.  “Must be one of your other wives…” 

He ignores you.  “It would inflate their egos too much.  They’re already insufferable enough.  And,” he adds, “they don’t need another reason to suck up to you.” 

“They don’t suck up to me,” you say. 

“Sweetheart,” he says.  “They suck up to you.” 

“A pun with Price?  Uhhhh… High?  Low?  Buy one get one?  Bogo?”  You hold up the dog, as if to present him.  “Bogo Price, son of Mr. and Mrs. John Price?” 

“You think you’re funny,” John says. 

“I think I’m hilarious.” 

“How about Mackie?  For Mack?  Soap’ld love that–Scottish for ‘my son’.” 

“… I’ll consider it.” 

“You did find him near Notting Hill.  Maybe Notting?” 

You shudder.  “No.” 

“Why not?” 

“Knotting.  It’s a—I’ll explain it to you later.”  

(By later you mean never.  Explaining A/B/O to your husband who doesn’t have any social media?  And has never heard of the website Ao3?  He’d have an aneurysm and then wonder why you know about it.  And you cannot have that conversation.) 

“What are the characters from Notting Hill again?” he says, scratching his chin. He needs to shave—well. You need to shave him, rather. “We just watched it.  William Thacker, Anna Scott, uh, her shit husband, what’s his name—“ 

“Jeff King.” 

“Jeff King, yeah.  King, maybe?” 

“Look at him, John.”  You turn the dog to face him.  He wiggles in your hands and yips, his tongue falling out of his mouth.  “He’s not a King.” 

He sighs and shakes his head.  “He’s not a King.” 

“What about William’s weird roommate?  Uh, Spike?” 

“Spike,” John repeats slowly. 

You nod.  “Spike.” 

You both focus on the dog. 

“I like Spike,” you say. 

“I like Spike, too.” 

You hum, considering this.  “Spike…”  You narrow your eyes and study the dog closely, holding him tighter in your hands. 

He yawns with a high-pitched whine and then hacks.  

“Jesus,” John mutters, shaking his head. 

“Better than Georgie, Banks, or Mackie?” 

“Yeah,” John says, “look at ‘im.  He’s a Spike.” 

“He’s such a Spike,” you muse.  “He’s gonna be huge, too.  I mean, look at his ears and paws–they’re already too big for him.  Shit, he’s probably gonna be 70 pounds or 30 kilos.” 

“We need to train him.” 

“Yeah.  I can hire a trainer?  Find one online.” 

“I could get a trainer from base.” 

“I do NOT want an army dog.” 

“It wouldn’t be an army dog.  It would be a dog trained by the army.” 

You eye him.  “John.” 

“Love.” 

You sigh.  “Fine.”

“Good girl.”

note: prob gonna make wife!reader and spike a universe/series bc i loveeeee them. I hope you enjoy!!!!

posted 01.02.2025.

do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform.

to masterlist.

[queenofwands89]

The Storm Within Tyler Owens x fem!reader

Summary: What dramatic turn of events unfolds when Y/N storms off after an argument with Tyler, only to face the fury of a tornado that strikes their town and leaves Y/N injured?

Warnings: Tornado (duh lol), angst, arguing, mention of injuries, description of injuries, sad.

Notes: I wrote this because I am a whore for Tyler, and I love angst and pain. Enjoy byeeee

You feel the tension build in the air long before Tyler raises his voice. It's the kind of unease that clings to the back of your mind, an ineffable sense that something is about to go terribly wrong. You stand in the spacious, cluttered garage that serves as the command center for Tyler's storm-chasing crew. The storm models flashing on the multiple screens show bleak promises of another monstrous storm front moving across Oklahoma.

It starts as a simple disagreement. Tyler is passionate—almost recklessly so—about chasing a particular storm cell that evening. You object, voicing your concerns about the jeopardy it poses not only to Tyler but also to the entire crew.

"You never listen, Tyler!" Your voice quavers, your frustration edging too close to the surface. Your heart hammers in your chest. "You treat this like it's some adventure, but it’s dangerous!"

Tyler rakes his fingers through his hair, his expression a mix of determination and exasperation. "It's because it is dangerous," he shoots back. "But we do this because it saves lives, Y/N. If we can predict these storms better, we can give people the time they need to get to safety."

"And what about us? What about the people who love you? Are we just collateral damage in your crusade?"

Boone, who has been editing footage on his laptop nearby, looks up, his usually cheerful face clouded with concern. Lilly and Dexter exchange worried glances, while Dani silently tinkers with a drone, her stoic demeanor betrayed by the slightest furrow of her brow.

"I can’t sit by and do nothing while you risk everything, Tyler!" Your eyes well up with tears that you fiercely try to blink away. "One day, you might not come back."

Tyler sighs heavily. He takes a step towards you, but you instinctively recoil, the hurt in your eyes deepening the chasm between you. "Y/N, you know I love you, but this—this is what I do. It’s who I am."

"Well, I can't do this right now," you say, your voice cracking. "I need to clear my head."

Without another word, you grab your coat and storm out of the garage, slamming the door behind you. The echo of the slam lingers, punctuating the silence that envelops the room.

Tyler turns back to his crew, realizing that the argument has sapped the collective energy and morale. Boone breaks the silence with his usual attempt at lightening the mood.

"She'll cool off, man. Just give her some time," he offers, though his eyes betray the uncertainty he feels.

Lilly nods, her calm demeanor trying to instill a sense of reassurance. "Tyler, she just needs space. She loves you; that much is clear. Just let her process this."

Dexter, wiser and ever the emotional compass, adds softly, "Sometimes the best way to show love is to step back and let them come to terms with their fears on their own."

Tyler nods, although doubt gnaws at him. There is a sort of irony in chasing something as unpredictable as a tornado and yet being completely at a loss when it comes to matters of the heart.

You storm off down the gravel road, away from the storm-chasing headquarters. The expanses of Oklahoma stretch around you, vast and indifferent. You walk quickly, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl that rivals the storm brewing on the horizon.

Before long, a low rumble of thunder echoes in the distance. Your instincts tell you to seek shelter, but you are too consumed by your emotions to heed the warnings. Your phone buzzes, probably Jake checking in with you, but you ignore it.

As minutes turn to an hour, the sky darkens ominously, the oppressive weight of the storm hanging palpably in the air. You look up just as the first sharp gust of wind howls past you, sending a chill down your spine.

Your phone rings again. This time, you pick it up. It is Tyler.

"Y/N, you need to get back here. Now! There's an strom projected to hit our area. It's not safe out there!"

Before you can respond, the roar of the wind drowns out his voice. In the distance, a wall of debris begins to rise—terrifying in its beauty and formidable in its power. You feel a jolt of fear as you realize the windstorm is bearing down on you.

Panic-stricken, you try to find cover, but there is nowhere to go. The winds intensify, whipping your hair across your face and pulling at your clothes. In a desperate attempt to hold onto something, anything, you grab onto a nearby fence post as the monstrous tornado descends upon the town.

Back at the garage, the team is glued to their screens, tracking the terrifying path of the cyclone. Tyler's eyes are wide with dread, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"We need to go find her!" he shouts, his voice breaking with worry as he lunges toward the door.

Dexter and Boone spring into action, their grips tight on his arms, holding him back with all their strength. "Tyler, we will find her," Dexter insists, his voice steady yet intense. "But rushing headfirst into this will only get us all killed. We need a plan."

Tyler struggles against their hold, desperation etched into every line of his face. "You don't understand! She’s out there, and every second counts!"

Lilly's eyes mirror his fear but she nods in agreement with Dexter. "He's right, Tyler. We have to be smart about this."

Dani is already at the armored storm-chasing vehicle, her fingers flying over the controls as she starts the engine. "Let's go," she commands, her voice a beacon of resolve amidst the chaos.

The ride out is like plunging into a nightmare. The town around them is unrecognizable—a hellscape of uprooted trees, shattered windows, and debris swirling in the violent wind. The roar of the storm is deafening, a monstrous wall of sound that seems intent on swallowing them whole.

Every turn is fraught with danger, every street a potential deathtrap. The armored vehicle groans under the force of the gale, but it presses onward, cutting a determined path through the destruction.

Tyler's eyes scan the devastation, his heart pounding, every fiber of his being focused on one thing: finding you. The storm's fury lashes at them, but their resolve is unbreakable. They are driven by a singular, desperate hope—to bring you back alive.

As the harrowing storm begins to relent, the world around you is a landscape of devastation. The monstrous tornado has passed, leaving behind a chaotic aftermath. The team ventures deeper into the wreckage, eyes scanning anxiously for any sign of you.

Then they see you. Crumpled on the ground, clutching a fence post as though it’s the only thing tethering you to life, you lie unconscious, battered by the storm’s fury. Debris is scattered all around, a haunting testament to the storm's wrath. Tyler's heart wrenches at the sight.

Without a second thought, he leaps out of the vehicle, ignoring the stinging wind and flying debris that tug at his clothes and batter his body. "No, no, no," he mutters under his breath, sprinting towards you with a singular focus.

"Y/N!" he cries out, his voice breaking as he nears you. The sound barely cuts through the howl of the wind. He kneels beside you, wrapping his arms around your frail form, shielding you from the remnants of the storm. "Please, Y/N. Wake up."

Boone, sitting in the driver’s seat, immediately jumps out of the vehicle as well. He turns to Lilly and Dexter, his expression serious and determined. "Lilly, grab the emergency blankets. Dexter, I need you to help get Y/N into the truck, now!"

Boone rushes over to Tyler, his mouth set in a grim line. "Tyler, move aside. We need to get her stabilized." He swiftly yet carefully checks your pulse and breathing. "She's still with us. We have to move quickly."

“Be careful!” Tyler shouts over the wind to the crew, his voice tinged with panic. “She’s hurt!”

They work with meticulous care, gently extricating you from the wreckage. Tyler's hands shake as he helps lift you, his mind a whirlwind of desperate prayers and fear.

Dani, standing nearby, fights back tears, her voice breaking as she says, "Hang in there, Y/N. We’re not losing you."

They rush you back to the relative safety of the vehicle, urgency in every step. The vehicle starts moving, navigating through the storm’s terrible wake with a singular mission: to get you to medical attention.

Tyler sits beside you, cradling your hand in his, his eyes never leaving your face. “Hang in there, Y/N,” he whispers, as though sheer willpower could keep you tethered to life. “We’re almost there. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

The crew speeds through the chaotic aftermath, dodging fallen branches and uprooted signs. Dexter keeps a vigilant eye on the road, never slowing down. Lilly's hands shake as she dabs at your wounds with a cloth from the medical kit, trying to do whatever she can to help.

All the while, Tyler stays with you, his heart breaking and yet holding onto hope, as the vehicle barrels towards the hospital, each mile bringing you closer to safety. Tyler holds you tightly, his voice trembling and tears mingling with the rain on his cheeks as he whispers, "I'm so sorry. I love you. Please, hold on. Just hold on a little longer, baby."

[prythiansprincess]

MOONLIGHT

home | writing | inbox

🤍 pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: moonlight by kali uchis.

🤍 author's note: high! theo is the best kind of theo. gif credit to @dramaticals

A thick cloud of smoke permeated the air, making the room as hazy as your drug addled mind. Theo shifted in your lap and silently held the joint up to your lips. You smiled down at your best friend, his watercolour eyes as red-rimmed as your own yet still full of that familiar sharp intensity as he watched you with curious intent. Wrapping your lips around the blunt, you shied away from his gaze and inhaled generously. 

As the smoke filled your lungs, you felt your body relax. With an exhale, the terrible day you endured was gone in a breath. You rested against the headboard and let your eyes shut close. Theo traced circles on your skin, happily humming away while you scratched his head. Smoking always made the two of you more touchy and giggly, blurring the lines even more than they already were. 

Not that you were complaining.

A late night smoke session was exactly what you needed. Usually, the two of you would be indulging in Neville’s newest strain up in the Astronomy Tower, but thanks to the storm raging outside, you and Theo were confined to his dorm instead. 

In all honesty, you didn’t mind. Especially since Theo had a generous stash of snacks to pilfer through. 

“This new shit is strong,” Theo remarked, coughing a bit as he waved away the smoke. Above you, rain drops pelted the skylight in a soothing rhythm. “How does Longbottom even come up with this stuff?” 

“Because,” you drawled, every syllable slow and syrupy. “Neville actually pays attention in Herbology instead of skipping class and getting into fights.” 

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black, bella,” Theo pouted as he poked his nose against your stomach. “Didn’t you get detention for taking a swing at Cho this morning?” 

“She called me a slag,” you recalled with a frown. While you had no problem with Cho, she seemed to have a problem with you. All thanks to a certain Hufflepuff. Theo tensed underneath you, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “As if it’s my fault her boyfriend can’t stop staring at my arse.” 

“You should’ve told me. I would’ve taken care of it.”

You sighed deeply. “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you, Teddy. You tend to be a little overdramatic.” 

“Me?” Theo asked incredulously as he placed the joint on its holder. “Overdramatic? That’s absolutely absurd.” 

“I know you hated Cedric. When we were dating, he told me you threatened to beat his face in if he ever broke my heart.” Your best friend began to protest, but you held your hand up. You didn't fault him for being overprotective. After all, you've been friends with Theo long enough to know that this is just how he showed that he cared. “I'm not mad. I just didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.” 

“That stupid prat poured gasoline on the fire and lit the goddamn match the day he made you cry.” Theo ranted, his eyes glazing over with fury. “I should've made good on my promise to beat his fucking face in. He’s lucky you stopped me before I sent him to the infirmary.”

"It's not worth it, Teddy."

Your best friend shook his head. "It's always worth it when it comes to you."

“You shouldn’t get into trouble just because I have terrible taste in men.” Time and time again, Theo warned you about the guys you chose to date, but you were too stubborn to listen. You laughed humorlessly. “I really know how to pick them, don’t I?”

“Hey,” Theo whispered softly, tracing soothing circles on your back. “It’s not your fault your ex-boyfriend’s a prick. He’s an idiot for fumbling you.” 

You smiled as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Thanks, Teddy.” He hummed and squeezed your hip. “It’s not like I’m that broken up about it. I’ve just come to accept the fact that my love life is a complete shit show.” 

“That bad, huh?” 

“Don’t get me wrong, Cedric had his moments, but even when things were good, it always felt like something was missing. We just weren’t compatible,” you paused as you considered your words. “Cedric and I weren’t a good match. Mentally, emotionally, and physically.” 

Theo cocked his head curiously. “What do you mean?” 

Given your longstanding friendship and history, there were virtually no secrets between you and Theo, but there were aspects of your past relationship with Cedric that you weren’t as forthcoming about. Your best friend wasn’t exactly your ex-boyfriend’s biggest fan, so you skimped out on on the details to keep the peace. That was long gone now.

“Our sex life was kind of…bland.” 

Piercing blue eyes zeroed in on you. “What do you mean by bland?” Theo pushed himself upright, his face mere inches away from yours. “Was it just missionary and a polite handshake afterwards? Honestly, Diggory seems like the type.” 

You snorted in response. Theo wasn’t that far off the mark. “Basically, yeah. I just don’t think we were sexually compatible. Plus, he never wanted to go down on me.” 

Theo looked absolutely appalled. “What?” 

“Well, we tried and it didn’t really work. It’s not his fault, though. Oral just doesn’t do it for me. I’ve never…” you flushed as you rushed past the embarrassment of admitting such intimate details to your best friend. “I’ve never finished that way. I think it’s just a me problem.” 

“Let me get this straight,” Theo said matter-of-factly. “Cedric ate you out once, couldn’t make you cum, and then made you think it was somehow your fault?” 

“Cedric wasn’t a dick about it or anything,” you said rather lamely. “He just never tried again, so I figured that was that.” 

“That’s a fucking shame.” 

You shrugged. The past was in the past. It wasn’t like you could change things now. “It’s alright. Like I said, maybe it’s just not for me.” 

Theo stared at you. “You’re just saying that because he didn’t do his job properly.” 

You rolled your eyes in response, playfully smacking his arm. “And you’re suddenly an expert on the matter, Teddy?”

“I sure am,” Theo exclaimed proudly. “Cedric’s a coward for backing out after the first try. I mean, sure, it took me ages to get the hang of it, but now eating pussy is my favorite thing in the world.” 

Heat flooded your cheeks. Part of it was shock and the other — well, you didn’t want to think of what that other part might mean. Talking about sex wasn’t anything new for the two of you, but it was always in a teasing way. It was never quite this personal. 

“Oh,” you said after a moment. Theo watched as you shifted, trying to alleviate the building pressure between your legs. “I didn’t realize…” 

“That I love eating pussy?” Theo asked with a smirk. You knew he was doing it on purpose. He never missed out on the chance to tease you. “I’m really fucking good at it too.” 

You didn’t doubt it. While you tried not to feed into the rumors of your best friend’s bedroom habits, you knew that he was much more experienced than you were. Judging by the longing stares that followed in his wake, Theo wasn't the type to leave his lover unsatisfied.

After a moment, Theo spoke. “I can show you,” he rasped, that thick Italian accent of his bleeding through the words like it did every time he smoked. “If you’d like.” 

You blinked in surprise, practically gaping at your best friend. “You want to eat me out?” 

Theo nodded, his eyes dipping to your mouth as you anxiously chewed on your bottom lip. “More than anything in the fucking world.” 

The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. “Let me show you how it’s done, bella,” Theo whispered as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Though the action was innocent, his words were far from. “I’d get on my knees and beg for a taste of you. I promise not to stop until you’re a crying, whining mess for me.” 

Desire bloomed in your core, filling your stomach with butterflies. Fuck, why was that the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to you? What were you supposed to do? Refuse? That wasn’t even a possibility at the moment. After all, you were just a weak, weak woman. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” Theo asked softly. 

“Yeah,” you answered confidently. “I trust you, Teddy.” 

Theo smiled and leaned forward to place a kiss on your temple. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Now lay back, I’ll make you feel so good, bella.” 

A nod was all that you could muster as you settled amongst the pillows, watching with rapt attention as Theo crawled between your legs. He kept his gaze on you as he kissed your neck, his lips soft and warm against your skin. You leaned into his touch as he licked along your collarbone, his big hands slipping underneath your bra. Theo unclasped it quickly, nosing at the straps before kissing down the valley of your breasts.

Those dead eyes came to life as he flicked his tongue over your nipples, sucking on them until they stiffened. You shuddered in response and Theo savored the tiny whimper that slipped past your lips. After showing your breasts ample attention, he continued mouthing at your torso, nipping and biting on the way down. Every sensation was heightened by the weed, your body buzzing even at the simplest touch. 

Theo parted your legs and maintained eye contact as he toyed with the tops of your knee socks. He smirked and kissed the spot right above them. “We’ll keep these on, yeah? I like when you wear these.” 

You held your breath when he bunched up your skirt, leaving filthy, open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs. His breath felt cool on your core yet your entire body ignited into flames as Theo kissed you through your lace panties. 

You gasped in surprise, bucking your hips against his mouth. “Oh, fuck…” 

Theo hummed against you. “Does that feel good, principessa? I haven’t even started yet.” 

With a cocky smirk, Theo slid off your panties and groaned. You were embarrassingly wet, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he relished it. Theo teased two fingers along your folds, spreading your arousal and watching as your slick soaked him. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” His eyes were nearly black, swallowed by lust as they flickered up to your face. “I bet you’re sweet too.” 

Theo popped his fingers into his mouth, pretty eyes rolling back as he sucked them clean. “Gods, you’re so fucking delicious. Better than I imagined.” 

You whimpered, pressing your thighs together to tamper the need. Theo shook his head before prying your legs apart and diving in. When he dragged his tongue through your folds, you writhed underneath him, eager for more. The first lick had both of you moaning. He hummed in appreciation as he hooked your legs behind his shoulders. 

He chuckled darkly, before biting softly at the flesh of your thigh. “You like that, huh, bella?” 

You panted, frowning down at him. “Stop being a tease, Teddy.” 

“As you wish.” 

His dark head disappeared between your legs, silky brown waves slipping through your fingers as you held on for dear life. Theo wasted no time in showing off his skills, poking and prodding with his tongue. You tugged at his hair as he sucked on your clit, lightly grazing his teeth against the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Theo popped up to take a hit off the joint before passing it over to you. His slender fingers held them up to your lips before slinking down to continue eating you out. As you held the smoke in your lungs, you inhaled deeply, letting the drug that was Theodore Nott singe your veins. 

Nothing in this world could've prepared you for this moment. Theo wasn't exaggerating his skills. If anything, he underplayed just how good he was. Theo switched strategies often, starting off slow and sweet before swirling and sucking, fucking you with his tongue like he’d never get another chance to taste you again. Once in a while, he’d come up for air, smiling as you offered the joint to him. 

Mostly, Theo was focused on feasting. He made out with your pussy shamelessly, making it as sloppy and messy as he possibly could. The higher you got, the more sensitive everything felt. When Theo found a particularly sensitive spot, you arched your back and nearly scorched his sheets with the joint. 

Theo only chuckled before taking it from your hands and putting it out. “You’re on fire, bella. But I’d prefer if my sheets weren’t.” 

You smiled shyly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” 

He flashed a boyish grin back. “The only thing I’m sorry about is that we didn’t do this sooner.” 

“Me too, Teddy.”

He smiled softly at you. “Sei la donna più bella che abbia mai visto.” 

Before you got the chance to ask what he said, Theo pulled you by the ankles and picked up where he left off. He made good on his promise, driving you to the brink until you were writhing and whining. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you gasped, moaning his name in the night like a prayer. It only encouraged Theo to show off even more, using a combination of his mouth and fingers. His middle and pointer finger slid inside of you easily, squelching while he worked you tirelessly. 

There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your mind as you lost yourself to pleasure. When Theo introduced a third finger and flicked his tongue on your clit, a rush of heat flooded your body. 

“Oh gods, Theo. Please. I’m so close. Fuck — ” 

“C’mon, cara mia. Cum for me.” 

Theo watched as your orgasm rocked you from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. He lapped you up like a man starved, not wasting a single drop. You tried to fight the overstimulation by squirming away from his mouth, but Theo merely held your hips down. 

“I’m not done,” Theo warned with a growl. “Stay still, principessa. You wanted me to eat your pussy? Then be brave enough to fucking take it.” 

When he brought you to your second orgasm, you were gasping for air. You roughly tugged at Theo’s hair, eliciting a filthy moan from him. Despite this, Theo was still decidedly not done. As the third orgasm approached, you screamed before squirting and soaking right through the sheets. 

With wide eyes, Theo stared up at you. “Have you ever done that before?”

You flushed, embarrassment heating your cheeks as you shook your head. “No — I — I didn’t even know I could do that.”

Your best friend smiled, brushing your hair back gently as though he hadn’t just made you see Merlin. “Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” you admitted. “Was it okay? I mean, was that too much? Oh god, I’m sorry.”

“No,” Theo said in a stern voice as he tipped your chin up. “Don’t ever apologize. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I like knowing that I’m the only man that’s ever made you squirt.”

“You’re not mad?” You sniffled, lower lip trembling. “I ruined your sheets.”

“Fuck the sheets." He caressed your cheek, gazing deeply into your eyes. "It's still me. Your Teddy. There's nothing that you could do that would make me mad. You're perfect, Y/N."

Theo kissed you softly, his lips pressed firmly against yours to emphasize the words. He was your Teddy. He always would be.

"You're really good at that, by the way."

Your best friend smirked, the cocky grin tugging at his lips. "Oh yeah? I couldn't tell by the way you kept screaming my name."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not going to compliment you if you're going to be so cocky about it."

He cocked a brow before kissing the sweet spot beneath your ear. "What are you going to do about it, principessa?"

"No fair. You play dirty, Theo."

Your best friend smiled, taking in your flushed cheeks and kiss bitten lips. In one swift move, Theo pinned you underneath him. "I'll show you just how dirty I can get, bella."

He wrapped a hand around your throat possessively and pulled you in for a kiss. You moaned into his mouth, dizzy with desire. Theo slid his tongue against yours and claimed you with a groan. 

"This — this is what it should feel like. This is what Cedric failed to do. That stupid prick should’ve worshipped the ground you walked on, but he didn’t. He missed his chance. It’s my turn now.”

Wrapping your legs around his waist, Theo squeezed your ass as he grinded his erection against your core. Even through his sweatpants, you could feel how big he was. You bucked your hips in response, rubbing against him for more friction. 

“Oh fuck, don’t do that,” Theo panted breathlessly. “I won’t be able to stop.” 

“Who said I wanted you to stop, Theo?” 

Theo cursed up a storm, a mixture of Italian and English that sounded equally hot. “I want you so fucking bad. You’re all I ever want, Y/N.” 

You smiled up at him, placing a sweet kiss on his lips. “Then have me, Teddy.” 

It was like a flip switched inside of him. Theo crashed his lips against yours, frantically tugging your skirt off as you pushed his sweatpants down. They were barely halfway off before he was lining up at your entrance. 

Theo pressed his forehead against yours. “Deep breaths, baby.” 

Though you were sufficiently warmed up, you knew it was still going to be a stretch. His tip was barely in and you were already gasping for breath.

“Theo, fuck. Oh my god.” You clawed at his back as he inched inside. “You’re so big. I can’t — “ 

“You can, principessa. I know you can. We’ll make it fit, yeah?” Theo stroked your cheek, giving you time to adjust. “So fucking tight. I can feel you stretching to take all of me. Just a little more,” he slid in further, watching your expression intently to ensure that he wasn’t hurting you. “That’s it. Good girl.” 

When Theo finally filled you to the hilt, he pressed down on your stomach, marveling at the tight fit. You whimpered in response, clenching around his cock and making him groan. 

“Can I move, principessa?” 

Tears filled your eyes, but you wiped them away and nodded bravely. “Yes.” 

To his credit, Theo went sweet and slow as you adjusted to his size. He seemed attuned to what you liked and what you didn’t like even without having to utter a word. You weren’t surprised. Theo had always known you better than you knew yourself.

It took some time, but eventually the pain subsided to give way to pleasure. You kissed Theo as he thrusted into you, feeling every delicious inch of him sliding in and out of your pussy. He was going slow for your benefit, but your impatience craved more. It turns out that when it came to Theo, you were an all or nothing kind of woman. 

“Theo, please,” you pleaded through tears. “Please, I need more. I need all of you.” 

A feral expression crossed Theo’s handsome features before he hiked your ankles over his shoulders and drove in harder. His thrusts were deep and punishing, setting your teeth on edge as he fucked you into the mattress. Theo pinned your arms above your head, watching himself slam into you again and again. 

“I love watching your pretty cunt take all of me,” he murmured, intertwining your fingers together. “You’re a fucking goddess, baby. Dea mia, I’ll worship at your altar.”

“It’s never — I’ve never felt like this with anyone else,” you admitted.

Theo softened, his tender gaze drinking you in. “It’s never felt like this with anyone else for me either, bella.” 

You pulled him down for a deep kiss, the intimacy of the act surpassing lust and physical attraction. A spark awakened within you, like finally accepting an inevitable truth. 

The thread snapped and you allowed it to wash over you like a wave, the orgasm even more intensified than the first three. Theo followed soon after, panting into your neck as he emptied himself inside of you. He whispered your name, collapsing beside you when he finished. 

The two of you lay side by side, stunned into silence. You felt breathless and boneless, not quite believing that you just had the most mind blowing sex with your best friend. 

Theo glanced over at you. You glanced back at him. The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, breaking the tension. 

“Well, fuck.” 

He rolled over on his side, tracing your lips with his thumb. “Is that good or bad, tesoro?”

“Good. Definitely good.”

Theo smiled and kissed you softly. 

“I meant what I said,“ you breathed as he pulled you to his side. “I’ve never felt like that with anyone else.” 

“I know, bella.” Theo hummed in agreement, snaking an arm possessively around your waist. “You were made for me. Just like I was made for you.” 

“You knew it would feel like that?” 

He grinned. “I had an inkling.” 

“What did I tell you about teasing me?” 

“I’m not,” he said earnestly. “I knew it would be you since the moment we met.” 

The realization from earlier reared its head as you snuggled against him. “We’ve never been just friends, have we?” 

Theo shook his head. “Not for a single second, dea mia.”

[beloveds-embrace]

Hello! Thank you for feeding us the angstier timeline of the dukedom au!! I live for angst

You don’t have to entertain this thought ofc, the angst and how good you write for my brain worms worming. I just can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if König wasn’t there and instead the duchess had to suffer all on her own

(Or better yet, if he was there but ended up also leaving the duchess for someone else or was killed protecting the duchess)

Reader having to endure everything on her own which eventually leads her to falling terribly ill and in the olden times we all know how a simple cold could turn into more and yield deadly results

The stress combined with the overall lack of appetite (and the food not cooked well at times to add to that… more angst (: ) as well as other factors rendered the reader terribly ill

Maybe she fell into a body of water and had to save herself, or maybe she was caught up in a rainy storm on a walk with no one offering her warm clothing or a cover up until she eventually managed to get back that leads to pneumonia

Maybe she gets injured but hides it until the blood loss gets to her and infection sets in

Just so many options and flavours of angst

Anyway, thank you for sharing your writing with us! Agin, you don’t have to engage with this, so please don’t feel pressured!! I’m just having many thoughts and am currently going feral /pos

WAITTT WAIT I LOVE THIS

Because imagine clinging to König, to your one singular source of comfort in a manor that has no room for you, and in the end, he leaves as well.

You had been telling yourself that you had been simply more imaginative lately; König was simply busy, he wasn’t growing more and more distant! The way he looks at you now compard to before hasn’t changed. At all. His responses were in hums and nods, noncommittal but that’s okay, sometimes you did not feel like speaking- like existing- either.

Until he stands in your office, the light from the windows reflecting off his armour. You had been happy to see him, a smile on your lips to be in the company of the only one who didn’t seem to despise you.

When he tells you that he will not be doing this anymore, it feels, for a very split second, like your heart shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. You can feel the shattering of each, single piece.

Better place. He says, pity in his eyes but no regret. He pauses for a second. I wish… the best for you.

König leaves you like that; staring after his back in abject horror. Every step he takes echoes in your ears, until you are left alone in your office, hands trembling, and your ears ringing.

After that day, everything practically crumbled. You crumbled.

Without him, the weight of your isolation became unbearable. The disdain of the household grew sharper once it became known your only solace was no longer there, the whispers more cutting. Meals came cold, uneaten. Sleep eluded you, and the constant stress gnawed away at your strength.

One fateful day, you went outside in a desperate bid to escape the suffocation. The air was crisp, the sky gray with the promise of rain, and yet you still did not turn back. You wandered farther than you intended, your steps aimless even as the first drops began to fall.

The storm came quickly afterwards, drenching you to the bone. Your thin cloak offered little protection, and the chill seeped deep into your skin. By the time you returned, trembling and soaked, no one was waiting to help you. No fire had been lit in your chambers; no warm blanket was offered, and no company was given.

The fever began that very night, burning through you with a strength that left you bedridden. Days passed in a haze of pain and delirium. The wound you had hidden- an injury from your fall in the storm- festered, the infection spreading rapidly through your weakened body. You hadn’t the strength to call for help, nor the faith that anyone would come even if you did hoarse out your voice in your attempts.

Only when your condition worsened and you really, truly disappeared out of view, the household finally took notice. Whispers swirled, faint echoes beyond the fog of your fading consciousness, and everyone became alert of your absence, meals returned untouched and maids reporting it’s weeks since they’d helped you with anything.

John sat in his study, nursing a glass of whiskey as the fire crackled in the hearth. He told himself your absence didn’t matter- that you were retreating because you’d finally realized the truth. But when he closed his eyes, he saw your face as it had been on your wedding day- hopeful, trusting, and unaware of the coldness that would greet you.

Simon found himself pacing the halls around your room more often than usual. He would glance toward your chambers but never step inside, convincing himself it wasn’t his concern. And yet, something about the silence unsettled him.

Johnny had begun to notice the meals sent to your chambers were left untouched, the plates returned barely touched or sometimes not taken at all. He hadn’t cared at first, dismissing it as you sulking because no one was giving you attention. But now the thought lingered- had you even been eating at all?

Even Kyle, with his sharp tongue and sharper gaze, felt the unease creeping in. He found himself hesitating when passing your door, his usual indifference cracking as guilt gnawed at him.

In the end, it’s Kyle who couldn’t stand the silence anymore. He stepped into your room, telling himself it was simply to prove to himself that you were fine and just- sulking.

The sight stopped him cold.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn, and the air heavy with the faint, sour scent of illness. You lay motionless on the bed, your body shockingly frail, your skin damp with fever. Your hair clung to your forehead, and your breathing was shallow, each breath rattling in your chest.

You didn’t even notice him. Not even when he turned around and barked sharply for John, for a doctor now. You didn’t notice him at all. Not him, not John or Simon or Johnny when they appear while the maids run to get the doctor.

(Kyle will never tell anyone how utterly sick he felt upon seeing the dried tear-tracks on your face. The unfinished, rotten meals near the bed. The tear spots on your pillows. He will never, ever forget today. He doubts any of the others will be able to do so, either.)

[caramelkoo]

before we shatter — jjk [two]

genre : established relationship, idol!jungkook

word count : 5.1k

summary : dating an idol is fun, they said. having a family with one is fun, they said. Until you're falling face forward because of your reality. A reality where Jungkook dreams of a future and a reality where your own future is collapsed.

chapter warnings : ANGST, eventual fluff, mentions death of a loved one, mentions of Alzheimer's disease, strong language, mature, cheating (not by the main characters), jungkook will piss you off but he's deserving of love too :((, slight making out but nothing else. i think that's it, please mention if i missed anything.

a/n : OH MY GOD IT TOOK ME FOREVER !!!! here it is my pookies <333 i hope this will heal the past trauma that part one caused yall omfg. i love you so much and send an ask if you want to. You're so so cherished.

Jungkook’s fingers press on the digital lock before it beeps, indicating the door has been unlocked. 

“Babe, I’m home” 

He expects his girlfriend, Nicole to say anything in response but, on the contrary, all he gets is pure silence. Not a single person breathing the same air as him inside the house. His eyebrows crease in utter confusion and he wonders if he she went outside in order to run any errands.

Nicole is a fashion designer who he met when she was appointed to design his concert outfits for the group’s previous world tour. At first, there were some stolen glances, eye contacts, and innocent touches but when he found himself looking for her in the room full of people, it had to be more than that. 

At the risk of sounding like a nervous wreck with zero experience with women, Jungkook had walked back and forth approximately 46 times before he took up the hatchet to ask her on a date, to which she’d smirked and whispered a yes in response.

Listen, Jungkook is a confident man. Add a confident yet adorably shy woman beside him and you have got yourself the perfect mix of charisma and charm. Not to say that he was not totally enthralled by her. He genuinely wanted to get to know her better and that’s not only because she was confident, of course. 

Ordinarily, he’d find her on the couch going through her designs or making herself the 50th cup of coffee. It all really depends, but tonight the eerie silence surrounding him makes his stomach hurt. A nagging feeling arises in his chest and he hopes everything is okay. 

He releases a breath and walks further in towards the bedroom. Who knows, she got tired of working all day and went in there to take a nap. 

Much to his disappointment, just as his hands grip the doorknob, a moan comes from the other side of the wall and he freezes. 

“You’re so good to mommy, aren’t you?” 

He can’t mistake the voice even if he tries to. He hears it all day, every night by his side. 

Nicole has complemented him in every spectrum of their relationship. She’d been equally successful, equally fun and adventurous, and matched every desire and aspirations of his.

Tow bodies, one soul if you will.

Turns out, she lagged behind on the spectrum of honesty. 

Knowing he can’t be just standing there and not find out who she’s been fucking behind his back, he twists the knob and pushes the door open. The moan which earlier caused his heart to momentarily stop now turning into a full blown scream. 

“What the fuck?” 

You might prefer to think that Jungkook was the one to exclaim that, but no. Sitting on the bed with wide eyes and no clothes is his manager, Tae moo. Next to him is Nicole, trying to cover herself up with the help of the duvet as if she’d not spent the majority of nights sleeping beside Jungkook in the very same state after he’d made love to her. 

“Jungkook, baby. I can explain” 

His jaw goes tight, voice turning shaky. “Get out of my house.” 

Fierce eyes are pointed at the manager the whole time and he doesn’t even bother to look at Nicole. As if someone had set his non-existent pants on fire,Tae moo hurries and plucks whatever fabric he can from the floor and rushes outside. 

When Jungkook finally glances at Nicole, she’s got the same look on her face which she does when she wants something from him but can’t get herself to form the words. Desperate and pleading. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, tone acidic when he asks, “Why are you still here?” 

“What?” 

“Why? Did he fuck the common sense out of you?” 

She blanches at his words, clearly not expecting him to talk like that. “Please don’t talk to me like that. I told you I can explain.”

Jungkook can’t help but let out a chuckle infused with bitterness and disbelief, “What could possibly justify you fucking my manager, Nicole. Were you lonely? Did I not give you enough love and attention? Was my dick not enough for you that you just had to jump on another one?” 

Every word that comes out of his mouth has an intention of hurting the woman in front of him. Standing there when Jungkook tries to figure out any possible cause of this betrayal, he registers something.

While Jungkook was thriving because of the fact that he has a woman who supports him and keeps him on his toes, holds him when the world gets mean to him, the said woman was using him to feed her ego. He had been indispensable for her to gain the popularity that was left for her. The truth that he'd been a ladder all along for her in order to climb till success hits him like a torrent and an ache throbs through his chest. 

“Why would you need another designer when I’m here?”

“Jungkook c’mon, all my friends are gonna be there. Don’t be a spoilsport.” 

“Do they not let you post your girlfriends on your official instagram profile?” 

Everything falls into place like a missing piece of puzzle fitting into space. Additionally, Nicole had not even gotten close with any of Jungkook’s friends’ girlfriends and he’d decided not to dwell on the fact for his own peace.

Arguably, some people just don’t click and that’s fine. Except, those people don’t denounce other women behind their back. Her adulterated personality was oozing out of her and he managed to miss it. 

“I don’t know, babe. Her dress was too revealing. Take it from a fashion designer when I tell you she was not fit for that dress” 

“Isn’t she too touchy with her boyfriend in public? I mean I understand you’re in love but jeez” 

It is often said that when you’re in love, you’re unable to see your lover’s flaws because you get blinded. Blinded by their beauty, their charm, and their affection towards you. Safe to say, Jungkook can relate. 

“Get out”

‘Please just liste-”

His pitch goes higher. “RIGHT.NOW” 

Subsequently, he had been off the market for two whole years. Unfortunately, though, he couldn’t escape the endless amount of impolite and not to mention personal questions about his relationship during the interviews. 

“Jungkook, you were seen coming out of several restaurants and clubs with a woman a few years back, but we’ve not seen her for a while now. Is there something you’d like your fans to know?”  

“The ladies out there are having a field day because it seems our favourite superstar, Jeon Jungkook is single again” 

“Is there any chance of us getting to see the mysterious woman again?” 

Fucking exhausting. 

Then, one fine day, he met you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Maybe, the trust issues made home inside of him after he found his ex-girlfriend naked and sweaty on his bed with his manager. Maybe, you can blame it on the fact that he had still not gotten over the agony caused by his past relationship.

It’s almost like the words that come out of his mouth throw him two years back to the very same room where he tasted the vile taste of betrayal. 

“Tell me, honey. Is it the important thing you wanted to talk about but held back just to get a good fuck out of me?” 

The sentence is so absurd and disgusting that you can’t stop your hands from connecting with his face with a hard force. His face turns sideways as his skin stings because of the slap.

“Watch your tone with me, Jeon Jungkook.” The words are barely a whisper as you gulp, flying into a rage and hoping he eats his own words. 

You’re half naked, your hair's a damn mess and you probably have a swollen face with boogers in your eyes, but at this moment, you have to stand up for yourself without caring about any of that. You can’t be the person to take first hand beating of something you haven’t even thought of doing.

When he looks back at you, you wish someone was holding you because your legs feel weak. The look of betrayal and anger is long gone and now the only thing that exists behind those big doe eyes is hurt. A pain which makes you want to disintegrate. 

“Baby, I didn’t mean-”

“You know what, _____? I would have seen this coming. I was a fucking fool to even wish for a normal bond with someone without some shit happening to us.” 

You watch him storm out the door, slamming it so hard it rattles on its hinges after throwing the blue file on the bed. Your feet remain frozen to the wooden floor and you hope he comes running back in, says he’s sorry and he wants to talk it out. 

“Some shit”. He just called the whole situation shit.

A terrible labyrinth of anger, guilt and grief traps you as you find yourself wishing that a tight hug could fix the scattered pieces and mould your relationship back into one beautiful piece.

The words on the report stare back at you as they somehow feel more painful now that your boyfriend is aware of them. He knows he’s got into something he hasn’t signed up for and the thought that before you could even explain everything to him, before you could even tell him that you would rather die but hide anything let alone information as huge as this, he’d walked out. 

Placing the file on the nightstand, you go through your usual morning routine. Take a shower, change into fresh clothes and take your supplements.

Everything is blurry to you, the feeling of loss lingering deep in your chest, slightly aware of the fact that physically, Jungkook is nearby, mentally? You’re not so sure.

Despite your better judgement, you walk towards the kitchen with the motive of making your breakfast and you find Jungkook looking for something under the couch with two suitcases standing in front of the door. Was he gonna leave without letting you know? When did he even pack?

You take a deep breath and release, knowing exactly what he is looking for, “Are you looking for your glasses?” 

He straightens back up and holds your gaze. There’s a bit of delay before his answer reaches your ears. “Yeah um, I can’t seem to find them anywhere” 

A minuscule smile forms on your face, “They’re inside the bedside drawer. I kept them there cause you know, you tend to lose them” 

He doesn’t share the humor as you feel a pang in your chest intensifying. It’s suddenly so quiet that you can hear your as well as his breathing. And it’s uneven. Has your home always been this quiet? 

You clear your throat, eyes finding the suitcases behind him, “Heading somewhere?” 

He does the same and looks back at you. “Yeah uh, you remember Jimin calling me yesterday when we-,” he pauses, “Well, I have to go overseas to promote the album and get done with some other formalities” 

You flash him an understanding smile, feeling utterly shattered inside and not sure if you should ask him as to why he didn't bother to let you know or just let it slide. The question is right at the tip of your tongue but thinking better of it, you gulp it back down. 

“Of course. How long will you be gone?” 

He slides his hands inside his front pockets and sighs, “Probably a week. You can’t be precise when it comes to promotions.” 

“Alright,” you halt, “Uh.. do you want me to get the glasses for yo-” 

“No, I've got it.” He says as he excuses himself. When he comes back, the glasses are resting on his nose making him look even more beautiful than he already is in your eyes. 

A faint memory of you wiping his glasses for him with your slip dress comes to the surface and you hide a smile.

You watch him round the kitchen counter and pick up his jacket. As he grips the suitcases with both of his hands, the gleaming bracelet catches your attention. 

What are the odds of him preparing to live without it on his wrist? What are the odds of him preparing to live without you? 

You’re not surprised when he begins walking out the front door without saying a word. But you know you have to. You have to let him know that you don’t have any intention of giving up on him. 

With your palms turning clammy, you speak and prepare yourself for whatever comes back as a response, “Wait” 

His feet come to a stop, but him not bothering to turn around does nothing to ease your ache if not adds to it.

Swallowing, you continue, “Whe-when you come back, I want to talk it out. I want you to know that you mean too much to me for me to hide such a major information from you and one that has to do with both of us at that. Yes, I held back for a while but that’s just because I wanted to forget,” the damn tears are threatening to fall yet again, “I wanted to feel for the last time what it's like to be in your arms, your warmth before I break your heart and mine in the process,” Your fastening heartbeat causes you to grip your cardigan in a tight fist, 

“Can I at least get a hug?” 

His shoulders visibly go tensed as he admits over his shoulders, “I’m afraid if I so much as look at you for more than a second, I will break.” 

With that the front door opens and closes, leaving you with nothing but warm tears. You try your fucking hardest not to take his statement as face value but god you want to curl up and die. Although, you know none of this is your fault. If only you could see what the future holds, everything could have been much more bearable. 

You’re scared you’ll lose everything— him, your happiness, your future together. 

You’re scared you’ll burn.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

For as long as he can remember, Jungkook’s childhood had been filled with vivid memories of his parents’ kisses, them being madly in love with each other, dancing in the kitchen, planning picnic dates and thousands of giggles. He had been blessed with a mother who loved his father more than Jungkook has ever seen someone loving the other person, and his father reciprocated the love tenfold. 

Along with the love he also had another emotion wrapped around his heart in a tight grip. Fear. Fear that all of that would dissipate. You know, how sometimes when you’re too happy, there’s just a fucking voice inside of you screaming, “It won’t last long”? 

That’s exactly what he used to feel. The root of the fear was a mystery to him and he even tried to forget about it, thinking it might be just a pipe dream.

Except, it was not. 

And then one day, like a bolt from the blue, Jungkook’s dad was gone.

He still remembers the day very clearly when he saw his dad’s body being carried away on a stretcher, heavy and cold. Meanwhile, he just stood there with fat tears streaming down his cheeks, his mom arms stopping him from running behind his father.

Then, if that was not enough to break him, he lost his mom. Not physically but mentally when her mental state started to deteriorate over the next few years. Before he knew it, his mother totally forgot about his identity as well as his father’s. Apparently, that left a scar far too deep.

What’s it like to forget the ones you love?

Even though Jungkook had made peace with the fact that his mother will never return the same way he’d known her for, a small part of him still hopes. After all, what’s so wrong in hoping? 

His feet drag him down the long hallway filled with wooden brown doors until he stops and stands before one. He clears his throat as he watches the woman just lie there and stare into nothing in particular. 

When he gains her attention, a smile breaks out from her lips, “There you are. I knew you would come, Jimin.” 

Jungkook runs a palm over his chest, a futile effort to soothe the ache.

“It’s Jungkook, mom. Your son” 

“My son? How do you know my son?” The vivaciousness long gone from his mom’s voice.

He swallows and gets further inside the room. He doesn’t try to push it because he knows for a fact that even if she recognizes him today, if tomorrow he comes back he’ll be either Jimin or Namjoon or some random man he’s never heard of. 

“How are you doing?” 

His mom sighs, a pout on her lips as she looks down, “Still the same. I asked the nurse for a cup of tea hours back but she seems to have forgotten about it. That witch.” 

He chuckles, sitting himself on the stool. “I’m sure she’s bringing it in for you.” 

Her eyes move over to the window and settle on the maple tree outside. Just watching it. Jungkook ponders if she remembers chasing him under the maple tree when he was a child. It’s his favorite memory.

“A kind woman stopped by a few days back. God knows what her name was but she had this.. sad look in her eyes, as if someone had snatched something away from her and she’s broken over it. I wonder if people look at me and feel the same amount of sympathy that I did towards her that day. I’m not a fool, I know I’m sick. I could be dead by tomorrow for all you know,” she releases a small sigh as Jungkook waits for her to continue. 

Except she doesn’t and in that moment, Jungkook just…. knows. 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook’s eyes have not left the silver bracelet on his wrist for a while now, brushing it with his fingers lightly as if that would help him rectify his mistakes. He wants to slap himself whenever he remembers the look on your face when those cursed words left him. You looked so broken, so tired.

The woman his mother mentioned is you, it’s so obvious. Something about the way she told him about you made him want to swallow a fistful of iron nails. Fuck even that would hurt less. For a second he saw himself at her place and that made his insides twist in such a way that he didn’t understand. 

What if one day he just wakes up and doesn’t remember you? What if it all just disappears? Her memories, your smile, your sweet giggles, your moans, your touch. 

The thought itself makes him want to rip something into pieces not to mention rip his own heart into pieces. 

Jungkook can hardly walk through the veil of darkness which fills the hall. He holds his phone screen up for light, calling out for you.

“Honey, you home?” 

No response. With his heart in his throat he starts moving towards the bedroom. Gripping the doorknob, he twists it as the door clicks open. Before he can start panicking because of the empty room with nothing but his own stuff scattered around, a cough reaches his ears. 

His brows crease into a frown, confused. “_____, I’m starting to worry.” 

Another cough follows, making his breath pick up its pace. Following the sound, he finds himself standing outside the guest room’s door. Wasting no time he pushes the door open as he watches you on the bed covered in layers of blanket with sweat all over your forehead.

He rushes to you in a quick second, heart beating fast. “Hey, hey baby,” voice coming out as gently as possible, “You okay? Why are you here?” 

Your eyes land on his face as you sniff. “This is what happens when you eat your weight in a bucket full of ice cream on a Sunday night.” 

Jungkook’s expression flashes with relief, grateful that it’s nothing more than an unfortunate cold. 

“You should leave.”

He blinks, “What?” 

“You're more contagious to the cold than anyone I know, baby. Go. I’ll be fine” 

To be honest, he could give zero fucks about catching a cold right now. He holds your gaze for a long moment before standing up. 

A quick look of hurt passes through your eyes, but you recover just as quickly. 

“If you think I’m gonna leave you here in this state then you underestimate my love for you, honey. I don’t know if you remember, but you wanted us to talk once I come back and I want you to get better and get talking, alright? God knows how I managed to have survived two weeks without you by my side, but now that I’m here, you’re going nowhere out of my sight.” 

“Jungkoo-”

He interrupts, “As for those reports, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t care if we can’t have kids normally as most people do,” he runs his hands through his black locks, messing them up as he continues,

“In every sense of the word, I just want you. I want you right here with me, holding my hand and making me the happiest motherfucker ever. We’ll try something else. We’ll adopt, we’ll go with IVF, we’ll-” 

“Jungkook” 

“Yeah?” 

“Breathe, baby” 

So he does as he fills his chest with air, taking a moment to relax. Reaching over, you take his hands in your soft and warm ones, caressing his knuckle tattoo.

“Do I have the permission to be selfish just for one more time?” 

He offers you a weak smile, “You were never selfish to begin with, my love.” 

Your hands pull him towards you until he’s lying down by your side. He wraps his arms around you, holding you so close you’re almost one.  

Jungkook presses a kiss on your clammy forehead followed by one on the tip of your nose, “You okay?” 

“I am now” you whisper, letting your head drop weakly forward to pepper kisses across his hoodie clad chest. 

“I’m gonna speak now and I want you to listen, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

Your fingers clutch his hoodie in a small fist as you begin, “I lied about babysitting Coco and I’m sorry about that since I know we promised to never lie to each other, but I had a reason for that. I was at the hospital when you called. I knew you would be at the studio and I didn’t want to put you through that when you’re working,” 

You look up at him, eyes full of love and affection, “When I was young, my mom showed me an orange butterfly which I immediately fell in love with. I played with it for hours before I went back inside the house. I let it go, wishing it would visit me again. I had to let that butterfly go, Jungkook. Because I knew I couldn’t keep holding onto it. I was gonna do the same with you that night. I had it all planned out, I was gonna let you know about my infertility and then I was going to ask you for a breakup. Thankfully, I didn’t. Do you know why?”

Resigned, Jungkook shakes his head as a teardrop falls. 

“Because some things and some people are worth staying for. You’re worth staying for. I was stupid enough to think that I would survive without you, that I would be able to weather the storm without you by my side.” 

You’re sobbing now, sniffing as your fingers wipe Jungkook’s tears away. 

He cups your cheek, his fingers brushing featherlight on your skin as the most tantalizing caress. “You don’t have to. I’ll never leave you, baby. You’re it for me. I can’t breathe without you, _____. Do I want a family one day? Of course, Do I want it without you in it? Over my dead body. You’re my present and I very much have the intention of making you my future too. With all due respect, but something as trivial as that report is not gonna stop me from doing that.” 

A heavy moment of silence hangs in the air as he just stares at the love of his life, he didn’t even realize when the power came back, illuminating the whole guest room.

You are the first one to say, “I love you.” 

“I love you the most.” he declares as his lips brush with yours with immense gentleness and love. 

“Jungkook?” 

“Yeah honey?” 

“What do you think about calling our daughter, Ji woo? If we ever have one?” your voice comes out muffled because of the way you’re snuggled against his chest. 

His lips stretch into the biggest grin ever, chest filling with pride because the woman who he loves the most in his life asked to name the girl he’d love the most in his life after a woman who loves him the most in her life. Even if she doesn’t know it. 

“I’d love that.” 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Few years later 

“What-” you gasp as your body goes tense for a quick second before relaxing against Jungkook’s chest. His arms circling around your waist, making you feel cozy and at home. 

“You really need to stop scaring me like this.” 

“Why? I can’t hug my wife now? I know you secretly like back hugs.” 

Wife. The word still holds the same love and power as it did the first time he asked “Will you be my wife and make me the happiest man in the world, honey?” 

You let your head fall back against his chest and look up at him, “You know what? I do.” 

“I know you like the back of my hand, wifey.” he says, leaning down to drop a light kiss on your forehead. 

“I love it when you call me that, but right now you’re distracting me.” Your hands start running over his forearms, caressing. It’s like a habit for you. You need to touch him whenever you can, feel him close to you as much as possible. He’s always so warm and soft, it makes you all fuzzy on the inside. 

His mouth nibbles on your ear, making you shudder. “I don’t think so. Besides I barely get to have you for myself these days.” 

You sigh and just let yourself relax in his hold. The past few days have been hectic to say the least and nothing can heal you better than being in your husband’s arms. “How was practice, baby?”

Jungkook has been working on a new album resulting in him spending most of his time in the studio. You miss him, of course, it’s only normal, but you’re also beyond proud. He took a momentous break from his work the same year you guys were facing issues and he didn’t so much as leave your side, promising to always stick around. Through thick and thin as he said in the wedding vows. 

He ignores your question and sucks on your neck, making you groan. 

“Jungkook” His lips find yours and he steals a kiss, hands pushing under your sundress as he caresses the back of your thigh. Goosebumps break out all over your body and you curse at the fact that he still holds so much power over you. Your legs go weak and your clutch onto his shoulder for support. 

As he lets your lips go with a loud pop, you open your eyes and look at him. 

“What are the chances of me getting lucky tonight?” he asks, hands still under your dress, now grazing your ass. 

“It-”

Before you could answer him, the sound of tiny footsteps running towards you both reached you. And there she is, your prettiest five year old letting out the biggest shriek after she sees her daddy all but falling down from enthusiasm.

“Da!” her feet pick up the pace as she runs towards him with arms wide open. 

You detangle yourself from your husband’s hold and he takes a step back.

He crouches down and catches your little girl, Ji woo, in his arms. Groaning as she crashes into him. “Ooff” 

“Da, I missed you. You’re coming to the picnic with us, right? Mommy says you are.” 

You watch him laugh and peck her chubby cheek. “Of course, sunshine. Nice daddies never miss picnics with their daughters, do they?” 

As they talk like their goofy selves, you just take a moment and watch. By the grace of all things good, you’ve had the chance to visit almost everywhere in the world, but this right here is the best view. After musing about it, you and Jungkook decided to go with IVF and you’ve not regretted it ever since. Hands down the best decision of your life. 

Waking up and seeing your husband with your daughter sprawled on his chest as she lets out tiny little snores, watching her fall in love with the same eyes as you did, going on family dates, going to his concerts wearing the same outfits and whatnot. It’s more than enough for you to thank your lucky stars that you stayed. 

“Mommy, daddy says he’ll not steal my strawberry this time.” 

You offer her a gentle smile. “Daddy is a little liar, baby” 

She lets out the cutest gasp ever, cupping Jungkook’s face with her tiny hands. His face is so big in her hands it’s almost chucklesome.

“Is that right, daddy?” 

He playfully narrows his eyes at you as you stick your tongue out. “Mommy’s just jealous because you love daddy more. Now, what do you think of making those bracelets together?”

Ji woo’s face lights up like the fourth of July and she starts squirming like a little butterfly in his arms, flapping her arms. She’s been asking for her own bracelet after seeing the silver one on Jungkook’s wrist for years now. He suggested custom making one and she got so excited one would think he got her a pet dog or something. Although, he’s considering that too. Nothing surprising there.

When it comes to Ji woo, Jungkook is a loser in love. You’ve never seen him looking at another girl the same way he looks at his daughter. Besides you, of course. It’s innocent, pure and all things perfect. 

Before they both leave, she gives you a kiss on the cheek, covering her eyes when your husband pecks your lips.

Your eyes find the butterfly tattoo on your wrist, sometimes seeing it in your daughter. Excited, lively and someone who makes you want to wish it never disappears, the only difference?

Jungkook’s not afraid that everyone will let him go and you’re not uneasy about how you will have no reason to not let go. 

You’re healed.

He’s healed. 

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[pasukiyo]

EXTRA MOTIVATION

college baseball player!leon kennedy x f!reader word count: 2.4k warnings: smut!, fingering, sex in a public setting synopsis: when teaching her how to swing, leon has to come up with a more effective plan to get her motivated...

 “How am I supposed to learn how to swing when you’re kissing my neck?”

 Leon’s lips shape into a grin against the crook of her neck and she shudders when he pulls away, his breath warm against the saliva cooling on her skin. 

 “It’s for encouragement,” he says with a shrug, so casual for someone who’s driving her absolutely insane. A baseball whisks by and she flinches, nearly jumping straight out of her back into him. His hands find her hips to steady her and she can feel his laugh as it buzzes through his chest against her back. 

 “Jesus, can you turn the speed down, please?” She glares over her shoulder as Leon touches his lips against her shoulder. “Not everybody’s a goddamn Derek Jeter like you.”

 With a roll of the eyes and a featherlight kiss to the peak of her shoulder, Leon pulls away, tossing the net of the cage over his head. “Can’t believe you’d compare me to Jeter,” he clicks his tongue as he presses his thumb against the down button on the pitching machine’s control panel. “I easily hit circles around him.”

 She rolls her eyes as she leans on the bat. Cocky bastard. 

 “He’s the only player I know, because of you, mind you,” she remarks as he enters the cage again, a corner of his mouth tugged in a half-grin. “Anyways, fine. Not everyone can ‘hit circles around Jeter’ like you can.”

 Leon titters and touches his lips to her temple, sliding behind her once again. “That’s more like it,” he whispers beside her ear, slapping his palm against the right side of her ass. Her entire body jolts and she hisses, narrowing her eyes at him from over her shoulder as another ball passes by, at a slower, more manageable pace this time. “Is that better?” He asks, gesturing with his head towards the plate where the ball had passed over just moments ago. 

 She turns and pauses, waiting for the next pitch to fly. She watches it as it passes, a small arch to it as it goes by, smacking the rubber backstop. She deeply inhales, feeling every single drop of air that gathers in her lungs before she releases it. 

 Why did she agree to this again?

 “I guess,” she finally replies, picking the bat up off the ground, trying to figure out where to grip the handle. “Now, how do I hold this thing?”

 She’s sure a dirty joke can be written there, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Leon was itching to tell one. If he was, he doesn’t act on the urge— fortunately— and he instead pulls away, muttering an “almost forgot.” 

 She watches as he steps out of the cage again, rifling through his ball bag until he holds up his helmet. Her face falls as he steps under the net again, grinning. “Gotta protect that pretty head of yours,” he says, kissing the crown of her head before sliding the helmet on. It feels heavy and a little awkward because it fits a little big, so she has to tilt her head up to even see him. 

 “This thing smells like shit,” she complains. 

 Leon wrinkles his nose, “are you saying I smell like shit?”

 “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she deadpans. “I’d also like to add that your head is enormous.”

 His lips fall in a scowl and he spins her around by her shoulders, wrapping his hands around hers on the handle of the bat. “Careful, or that mouth of yours is gonna get you into trouble,” he says, adjusting her grip on the bat. “Dominant hand over the other. Leave a little room between your bottom hand and the knob.”

 She watches as his hands guide hers to where they need to be, another ball whisking by. “Maybe you should’ve turned the machine on after you taught me how to stand,” she says, feeling him shrug behind her. 

 “Too late. Now,” he begins, torquing her hips with his palms. “The key is to use your hips as your guide. The power’s all in the hips, baby.”

 She rolls her eyes and lolls her head back, gently knocking the top of the helmet against his chin. He snickers, bringing one of his hands to wrap around either of hers again. “When you see the ball release, take a step with your front foot. It’s your windup.”

 She goes through the motion as another ball passes. She waits in her position for his next instruction, his hands still on hers and holding her arms back. Her back begins to ache and she shifts uncomfortably as he pats her back thigh. 

 “You’ll twist this leg before your arms go into motion, using your hips just like I showed you,” he instructs, placing his hand back on her hip to guide her. “Your hips will guide you through your swing,” he says, finally grabbing a hold of her hands, slowly going through the swinging motion. “Like this.”

 They go through the motion a couple more times until she thinks she’s ready for the real thing. Leon walks her to the plate and gets her into position, pressing a kiss to one of her shoulder blades. “My little baby’s first hitting lesson,” he murmurs against the fabric of her t-shirt. “Time moves too fast.”

 Her eyes roll and she nudges him out of the way with her butt. “You’re insufferable.”

 She can only envision Leon’s grin behind her. “You love it.”

 With a pat to her ass, he backs away and she gets into the stance Leon showed her, willing herself to breathe as she watches a baseball roll down to the machine. It ejects— and she blinks. She swings the bat just like he’s taught her— and misses. 

 The ball hits the rubber mat serving as the backstop with a loud thud and she deflates, arms falling to her sides, leaning against the bat. 

 “I missed,” she says, a little dejectedly and Leon chuckles behind her, his hands rubbing either of her shoulders, his lips touching the side of her neck. 

 “Can’t all be naturals like me,” he jokes, nipping her skin. Her eyes roll, her elbow jabbing into his stomach. “Kidding,” he saves himself. “It just takes practice.”

 His palms soothe up and down from her hips to her waist, his breath hot as it looms over her neck. Her breath catches in her throat as another ball goes by and she blinks when it hits the backstop, Leon’s hands snaking around her waist to the line of her shorts. 

 “And maybe some extra motivation?” He murmurs against her shoulder, pressing kisses into her skin all the way up until he reaches the edge of the helmet. Gooseflesh erects on her arms and quivers trail down her spine while his fingers toy with the hem of her shorts, his forefinger slipping beneath to draw a line above her pantyline. 

 “Leon,” she near-whimpers, feeling that familiar ache blossom between her legs as his fingers sink beneath her underwear. He hums against her neck, the pad of his middle finger finding her clit, his touch like the jolt of lightning that brings her to life, electricity flowing through her veins. 

 “Every time you hit the ball, I’ll make you feel good,” he whispers, breath curling around her neck, twisting all the way up to her ears in a warm embrace. It makes her shudder as Leon’s finger brushes against her clit, back and forth. “Easy enough, yeah?”

 She thinks she’ll hit him with her bat. 

 “You drive me crazy, Leon Kennedy,” she mutters through gritted teeth as his middle finger flicks her clit, trailing down to her entrance, gathering the slick there. Her breath hitches as another ball passes, Leon’s lips curving into a grin between her collar and jaw. 

 “I’m counting on it, pretty girl,” he whispers, sliding his hand away from her shorts, pulling away from her altogether. She peers over her shoulder at him as he backs away, lips wrapped around his middle finger, a smirk on his face. 

 Her brow dips— one of these days, she’ll get him back. 

 She turns back to face the machine, getting back into position. She waits with bated breath as the next ball rolls through the machine, soaring through the air towards her. She swings with full confidence that she’ll make contact this time but that hope dies almost as soon as it comes once her bat swipes through the air above the ball, hitting air. 

 Blood bites her cheeks as she glances back towards Leon who simply stands with his arms crossed over his chest, the dark ocean in his eyes rippling with a playful luster she’s seen far too many times to count. She huffs and turns back to the plate, readying herself into position. 

 She misses again. 

 And she misses the next. 

 But the time after that, she gathers a lungful of air into her chest, heart pounding and core aching with determination. She’d have to hand it to Leon— he strikes a good bargain. Her pussy surely thinks so too. 

 Her vision zeroes in on the ball as it rolls through the machine, ejecting from the emitter and soaring towards her. She thinks back to the motions she and Leon went through, piecing them all together in her mind like it’s one giant puzzle. She holds her breath in her throat as she puts all the steps together— and finally makes contact. 

 It’s not a Division 1, college scholarship worthy hit by any means. In fact, it practically hits the ground as soon as the barrel of the bat makes contact— a daddy hack, she’s heard Leon refer to it as— but it’s contact nonetheless. Elation surges through her veins and she pumps her fist in the air, face splitting in a smile as she hops, turning to face Leon. 

 “Who’s Derek Jeter now?” She exclaims as his lips crack to reveal the pearly whites behind them, his chest stuttering with his laughs. “Deal’s a deal, Kennedy. Now get your ass over here and touch me.”

 Leon’s chest rumbles with his laughter as he throws his hands up in admittance, sauntering his way towards her. “Deal’s a deal, can’t argue with that,” he says as she drops the bat, peeling off the helmet and sending it pummeling towards the ground. Leon’s arm snakes around her waist to pull her closer, his other sliding between their bodies, cupping her mound from over her shorts. Her lips fall agape in utter shock as he nears, their noses just barely touching when he whispers, “you’re lucky I’m a man of my word.”

 His fingers are like shots of ecstasy injecting straight through to her veins as he slides them back down her shorts, finding the aching bud at her center. She tosses her head back but he cups it with his palm, bringing her back in to press his lips against hers. Their tongues tumble around each other in a sloppy, languid kiss, humming into one another’s mouths as his middle and pointer fingers sink their way through her entrance, rubbing against her warm, velvety walls. 

 Her lips part around his and he takes it as his opportunity to gain control over their kiss, teeth clashing against hers with a fervor only Leon can match. 

 “Shit, you always get so wet for me,” he practically groans into her mouth, sliding his fingers in all the way until their knuckles deep. It’s already enough to liquify her insides and jellify her knees. “You’re such a good girl, you know that?”

 The endearment has more of an effect on her than she expected. She mewls against his mouth, clutching his bicep and sinking her nails into his flesh. She cants her hips into his hand, the heel of his palm rubbing friction against her clit when she does. It has her mind reeling, her head spinning. 

 Leon snickers at her reaction, pulling away from her mouth just to stare into her eyes, to watch as she falls further into submission in the palms of his hands. It makes his chest swell with pride, makes his cock twitch and strain against his boxers more than he’s willing to admit. 

 “You like that, huh?” He chuckles, moving the heel of his palm side to side against her clit, just to fuck with her. “Being called a good girl, hm? Being called my good girl.”

 It’s unfair how a voice can have so much of an effect on her. It’s embarrassing even, but she leaves no room to protest, for he’s adding a third finger and all she can think to do is moan, “Leon!”

 He brings their lips together again, grabbing a fistful of hair from the back of her head to keep her in place. She feels like she’s in a trance, her hazy mind turned to dark, murky slime with each pump of his fingers. 

 “You do like it,” he titters when he pulls away from their kiss for breath, shaking his head. She pinches her lip between her teeth as he digs her closer to her end, one of her arms locking around his neck to brace for impact, her opposite hand clinging tighter to his bicep. “Don’t think coming was a part of the deal, but I’ll make an exception, just for my good, good gi—“

 The sound of the entrance to the cages permeates the building and it snaps either of them out of their lust-drunken hazes. With some reluctance, they push away from each other and she works to straighten out her shorts as Leon licks his fingers clean, turning just as two of his teammates make their way towards their cage. 

 “Carlos, Luis,” Leon says in greeting, a hint of an annoyed edge to his voice. She turns, scrambling to gather Leon’s bat and helmet she dropped to the ground, core throbbing, begging for attention. 

 “Kennedy,” Luis greets, dipping his chin as he says her name in acknowledgement too. She simply dips her chin as she turns, pressing Leon’s equipment into his chest. He turns to face her, a line between his brow. She huffs— perhaps sex in the batting cage just wasn’t in the cards for them. 

 She’s about to push past him when Carlos says her name, lifting a small, gray object in the air.

 “This camera yours?” He asks and she freezes where she stands, nodding. “It’s still on, in case you didn’t know.”

 Her molars sink into the flesh of the inside of her cheek as she pivots slowly around on her heel towards Leon who only lifts his lips in a tight, impish grin. 

 Crazy, she mouths. You drive me crazy. 

a/n; i wrote this like 4 months ago and only just now got around to posting it i’m so sorry 😭 i hope it isn’t too late to reheat my college baseball player leon nachos 🤞

⚾️ if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply! your feedback is always appreciated 🫶

TAGLIST

@chaoticevilbakugo

@luckypurins

@corruptcoder

@glovesandhorror

@angelstargel

@echo1200

@d3adp00ls

@woahhajime

@leonkennedygvrl

@elliewilliamshotwife

@altissia-09

@danigirls-missions

@gorrykookie

@luvrgreyy

[morganbritton132]

Steve Has Older Siblings AU: Robin Edition

In an ideal world, Steve’s family life is completely separate from everything important. But in an ideal world, monsters don’t exist so, you know.

1. Technically the first of Steve’s siblings that Robin meets is Jason because he came into Scoops Ahoy to be an asshole. Robin liked to see King Steve knocked down a peg or two more than the next person but not by a forty year old (he’s 32) loser who has nothing better to do on a Tuesday afternoon. Robin sees him knock Steve’s hat off his head and then informs him that they had a zero tolerance harassment policy (they don’t) and they can and are denying him service. “So leave, now.”

2. The first time she is aware that she’s meeting one of Steve’s siblings is after Starcourt burns down. They were drugged, tired, and Russians took Steve’s car keys so it felt like a good idea to just lay back on the hood of the Beemer and watch the smoke swirl in the air until they come up with what to do.

They never think of anything, and she is startled awake the next morning hungover and dehydrated by someone laying on their horn. Robin looks at the car and then at Steve, and then asks, “Is that your dad?”

Steve - looking somehow worse than yesterday - just blinks in the direction of the car like, “Richie?”

“Get in the car,” Richie practically seethes, barely lets them get in before he starts asking questions like, what the fuck and are you high, right now?”

“I don’t dooo drugs, Dad,” Steve spat out annoyed and Robin, in the backseat, felt compelled to adds, “Drugs do me.”

They both start giggling and can’t stop even when Richie tries to lecture them.

3. Robin meets Jason again when he attacks her.

She doesn’t remember much about the car ride back to Loch Nora or how Steve convinced Richie not to take them to the hospital, but she remembers flopping face first onto Steve’s cloud of a bed. She remembers him taking her shoes off for her and pulling the covers up.

Then she is rudely woken up by a hand yanking her out of bed and big arms wrapping around her head. They’re barely there before Steve is shoving them off her like, “Fuck off, Jason.”

“Carver?” She asks but, no. It’s the dick from the mall. She is ignored while Jason prattles on about how it’s not his fault that Steve looks so much like a girl that he confused him with one. Then he’s whistling about how Steve has a girl in his bed and how surprising that is to them considering they all thought he was a queer.

Robin stiffens beside him. New queer ally, Steve Harrington, not wanting her to be uncomfortable, blurts out, “What if I am?”

And the room goes quiet. Steve’s quiet. Jason’s frozen. Richie, coming in through the door, wasn’t moving. This family doesn’t really paint a picture of unconditional love and acceptance so Robin throws her entire (unsuccessful) theater career into use and slugs Steve in the arm with a snort like, “Yeah, right. With all the girls you flirt with? Ha!”

And everything comes back to life. The hospital conversation comes up and morphs into an argument immediately. Robin is just happy to fade into the background and observe.

4. Robin probably should’ve met Claire that day too but the hospital was an apparent disaster. She actually meets Claire randomly at Family Video.

She sees a woman who’s kinda cute come in and peruse the shelves. She comes to the counter where Robin is on register and Steve is stocking candy right next to her.

She’s carrying The Muppet Movie and makes small talk about watching it with her kids, and never looks twice in Steve’s directly. She’s not in the system and just laughs, “It’s probably under my maiden name, Harrington.”

Robin gives her a tight smile and finishes the transaction. Claire leaves with barely a ‘bye’ to her brother and Robin decides right there that she hates them all.

[emmyc0z]

Hii! I love your Thanos x reader x namgyu stories!! They’re so good and I love your writing! I was wondering if I could request more of that? Maybe a little smut if you’re comfortable writing it!

(Sorry if that doesn’t make sense, English isn’t my first language ❤️)

thanos ! x reader x namgyu !

pairing : thanos! x reader x namgyu!

cw : drug use and sexual activities!

a/n : erm i am NOT a good smut writer but i hope the small amount is enough. i love these two. also i don’t know if anyone has noticed but i cannot make them mean for the life of me. like i love a soft man. oops

you’d all live in a single apartment because it’s cheaper. you were practically all living together anyways (they crashed in your living room more than their own places) so you would decide making one rent payment split three ways made more sense than three separate payments.

the chores would probably fall on you. cooking, cleaning, laundry. it’s easier if they’re out of your way anyways.

i think namgyu would help out by buying groceries or taking over the laundry every couple of weeks.

i like to picture him with glasses, and leaving them everywhere but his face. like he’s constantly misplacing them. and he swears you must be psychic or something because anytime he starts squinting to see, you pull his glasses out of thin air.

he also definitely is incapable of admitting he needs them. and will actively refuse to find them because he “looks stupid with them on”.

thanos is the type of guy that wouldn’t do anything around the house except leave his cigarettes ashes on the living room table.

or throw his shoes on top of the already large pile of sneakers by the door instead of tidying them up.

or add his dirty dishes into an already full sink.

and then he’d say he contributes to house work because he bought take out once last week or because he brought home shit for you guys to smoke.

but he’s also the type that can clean the whole house in a couple of hours, under the condition that’s he’s high. like i imagine him popping one of those pills from his cross and getting the energy to do everything you’d plan to do when you get home.

and if you said anything about it he’d just shrug. like it’s not the most impressive thing he’s done since he moved in.

secretly he’d be on top of the world because of your praise and gratitude. and he can’t help but smile at the satisfied smile that appears on your tired face when you sit beside him on the couch with no responsibility for the night.

they both are the type to conspire around the thermostat. and they’ve somehow convinced you that you don’t know how to use it so you trust them when they say it’s set at a normal temperature.

like in the winter time, they’ll turn it down so low that they have to bundle up under multiple blankets on the couch just so you’ll keep them close.

picture this, you’ve gone to bed and they turn it down at least half an hour after. and you return to the living room, half dressed cause “that’s the only way you can sleep”, and you beg them to come sit in your bed to keep you warm.

and thanos would be the type of guy to get you there and claim that they have a faster way than just ‘sitting in bed’ to keep you warm.

that’s how you’d end up with thanos chest pressed to your back and his cold hands up your shirt, cupping your breast as he nips and kisses at your neck leaving purple marks in his path that are sure to show the next day.

meanwhile namgyu is laying on his stomach with your legs perched up on his shoulders, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thigh, as he head gets busy between your legs.

and you better believe your inner thighs are covered in bruises. he’s incapable of holding back his bites and kisses with your legs spread wide in front of him.

i cannot see namgyu being anything BUT handsy. like even if you guys were just cuddling this guys hands are on you, in you, all over you it’s crazy.

and you’d say it’s counterintuitive when thanos throws your shirt across the room, and namgyu has pocketed the underwear you were wearing, because how is removing your clothes keeping you warm.

but after at least of an hour of being trapped between them, all three of you are sweating and the room seems way hotter than before.

maybe the fact that they turned the thermostat back to normal before joining you in your bedroom had something to do with it. who knows?

the type of guys to talk to eachother about you like your not there but also the type to say it’s gay to make eye contact with eachother when they get you off.

they’re also jealous creatures. they can’t help it.

if the three of you are having sex and you leave a mark on one of them, like a hickey or god forbid you leave lines from your nails, the other is suddenly whining for your attention. silently begging for you to mark them up in the same way.

and they won’t leave your bed after. they stay put, hands wrapping around you from either side of the bed. namgyu’s fingers are intertwined with yours as his face presses against your neck. and thanos is sprawled out on his stomach, one arm draped over your middle as he faces you, dead asleep.

[yan-randomfandom]

hi!!! omg i just discovered your blog and i’m in LOVE! could i request yandere stanford pines (platonic or romantic or some other type is up to you) with a reader who is a reincarnated euclidean/flatworlder/dream demon? (i don’t know if you’re familiar with same coin theory, but that’s my inspiration!) preferably with no/limited memories of their past life? i imagine ford would be pretty suspicious at first because of his experiences with bill, maybe even try to kill them… but who knows if those feelings will change… that, or maybe he would get obsessed with them as a replacement muse… lots of possibilities! feel free to change/add anything to the concept, or if it doesn’t interest you, i’d appreciate any yandere ford in general! thank you!!!

Yandere!Stanford Pines x Godling!Reader

this took me a while, but i finally got around to writing it! thank you for your kind words, anon! this one contains continuous stories— because this is so long, feel free to point out any mistakes

🌑

You have been summoned.

Even from your deep slumber, the presence of other ghastly beings roaming around the dimension was painfully obvious to you. How curious; they don't seem to belong here.

"You. You grant wishes right? No deals?"

The one who summoned you flinched when you made eye contact. With their chin lifted, they tried to seem intimidating, yet the tremble of their lips and the quaking of their legs gave them away.

"Indeed, but," you replied, smiling to the best of your ability. You hovered around them, critically observing their physical body, and, by extension, their soul.

They are nothing short of terrified. But intriguingly, their fear does not mainly stem from your presence.

"Pray tell," you mused, twirling their hair with your fingers, "what happened here, dear human? I've been asleep for some time, so I request a small favor: answer my question."

Because if you had to be honest, you have no fucking idea what's happening right now. The longer you stay awake, the more you realize that you have no memory of your past.

"Bill Cipher happened. This is the Weirdmaggedon," they answered, their body shaking more intensely. You paused. "I don't know what he wants. Please, all I ask is for you to transfer me and my family somewhere safe. The ones I care about have turned to stone. We just want to be happy. Please."

A giggle escaped you. "A noble wish. Very well, I shall send you and your family to the nearest safe place."

You placed your hand on the top of their head, and they vanished out of thin air.

Humming a tune, you made your way out of the cave where you had been trapped and finally saw the world outside.

...

Swirling colors and chaotic phenomena surrounded you. What a monstrosity. Someone else has taken over this area—Bill Cipher, was it?

Turning your head, you saw an enormous bubble wrapped in chains. A grin-like expression stretched across your face.

So that’s where you sent your summoner.

🌒

Weirdmaggedon is officially over.

Stanford knew that. Bill is gone. His brother is slowly but surely regaining his memories back. Everything is going to be... normal again.

As normal as it can be anyway. A sigh left Ford when he rolled over to his side, staring at practically nothing. The room is pitch black.

He closed his eyes.

...

It's bright. With a gasp, his eyes snapped open.

A familiar field. The gentle breeze doesn't calm him down in the slightest. He's back here. Again. Why? Did Bill somehow escape? Is he out for revenge? That stupid dream demon—!!

"Gree—"

Ford shouted, immediately swinging his fist at you. You dodged swiftly in time.

"—tings! Woah!" you huffed, taking extra care to ensure he didn’t land a finger on you. "Is this how you usually greet a higher being, Stanford Pines?"

The human’s heart raced uncontrollably. This can’t be happening. "Bill, what twisted form have you taken now? Didn’t we destroy you already?!"

You blinked, then laughed. "I'm not Bill, silly! He's long gone, I'm pretty sure. How should I know?"

Not Bill? What kind of nonsense are you spewing out? Stanford's expression darkened. This might be a dream, but he really didn’t want to deal with you—especially not after everything that had just happened.

His demeanor didn't go unnoticed.

"...Oh. I'm sorry," you muttered, getting close enough to meet his eyes. They widened at your words. "I didn't mean to laugh at your misery. I've just been so confused lately."

"What?" was all Ford could manage to say.

"I heard all about you," you said carefully, making gestures with your hands. "Human with six fingers. The man who freed Bill Cipher. Who has traveled across dimensions."

"Who told you...?"

You smiled. "I asked many—don't worry about that part. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about myself. You seem to know a lot, Pines."

Ford woke up.

...

Was that just a dream? Were you even real?

Bill is long gone, dead. Isn't he? He won't find the answers to his questions until he falls asleep again.

🌓

Ford doesn't do anything about you until he's sure of himself. You were definitely just a figment of his imagination, right? A dream.

That’s exactly why he couldn’t believe it when you showed up again. A stupid, curious expression on your face.

And this time, Ford took it upon himself to try and kill you.

"Urk! Don’t do this! I understand you're traumatized, but I really am just trying to find my home!" you stammered, flying and dodging every attack he threw your way.

This is weird. You’re saying things Bill would never say. Is he really trying the opposite approach just to manipulate Ford again?

A massive blast from a cannon struck you.

To both of your surprise, the attack did absolutely nothing to damage you.

"I'm alive!" you exclaimed with glee, up in the air, comically rotating from the impact. "Done yet, Pines? I simply want to talk, you know!"

... Of course. Both of you are untouchable in the dreamscape. While you can imagine anything within both the mind and the dream, a being like Bill isn't stupid enough to enter with his actual body. Guess it worked the same way for you, too. It was still worth a shot.

Ford woke up.

🌔

"Finally ready?"

You tittered at him up from above. Ford narrowed his eyes at you.

"What do you want?" he deadpanned. "You're not here to make a deal, are you?"

"Deals are not my forte," you said, showing him a negative gesture. "I do wishes. But if I have to admit, I wouldn't wish something from me either."

"So you trick people," he replied, gritting his teeth. "Why do you feel the need to do that? What benefits do you gain?"

You glanced at the side before looking back at him, shrugging. "I don't remember."

"Is that so? How many wishes?"

"One."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Bill—"

"I am not Bill," for the first time since you've met him, your voice finally sounded firm. "As far as we both know, he is gone."

"... What is your name, then?"

"... I don't remember."

🌕

A frustrated huff left Ford as he rubbed between his eyebrows. You giggled, pushing your hand through his hair. It's soft.

"You're not being helpful at all," he said.

"Apologies," you replied, looking sheepish. "It's hard to answer your questions if I know nothing."

"There must be something you know," the man insisted, stepping away from your touch. He doesn't like how gentle it was.

You hummed, crossing your arms as you floated away. "Do you know how Bill looks like? Am I of similar physique, perhaps?"

Ford paused as his eyes glanced up and down at your form. You can't help but feel uneasy under his tenseful gaze.

"You don't know what Bill looks like?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

This man sure is suspicious of you. Not that you blame him. "No. I believe I never met him."

"You believe?" he scoffed. "I hope you know it's hard to trust you."

"Well," you drawled, "would it convince you if I said you can wish for my memory to come back?"

His eyes widened.

You chuckled. Maybe this was too shocking for him. Take it slow, you thought.

"Before anything else, though, how about we enjoy a nice cup of dream tea?"

🌔

You stared at the chess board in between you and Ford, confusion filling your face. "Wait, how does the knight move again?"

"Think of this shape," Ford explained, forming a black marker with his thoughts and drawing the letter 'L' in mid-air. "The knight moves to the end of this point. Just try to visualize it on the board."

"Oh, I think I understand," you muttered, choosing to move your knight in the corner of the board.

Ford grinned. He placed his queen right next to your king. "Checkmate."

"What?!" you gasped, your eyes rambling around the whole chest board. "I mistook my king for the queen! I say rematch!"

A hearty laugh escaped Ford's lips. If this was in the physical world, he's sure that his cheeks would start hurting from smiling so much.

He still wasn’t sure if you were dangerous or not. Really, of all people, Ford should know better than to mess with otherworldly beings.

But maybe this time, you're different. Because, as far as he knows, you're powerless.

🌓

"Pines," you said as Ford roamed his hands across your body. He said this was his way of observing how different you were from Bill. "Aren’t you going to use your wish to help me regain my memory? Or do you want to use it for something else?"

He rubbed his thumb over the side of your body shape. Interesting. You're just as two-dimensional as Bill is. "I only have one chance of using my wish, don't I?"

"Indeed," you murmured, shifting slightly under his touch. "I won't stop you if you use it for yourself, but I'll have to find someone else who might use the wish for me."

Ford halted all his movements.

"What?"

You drifted away from his fingers. He stared at you, wide-eyed.

"I said I'll find another to grant my wish for me," you explained. "Anyway, how was your assessment? Am I anything like Bill?"

Ford continued to stare at you, looking as if he were lost in thought.

...

"Pines?"

"Sorry," he coughed, "but, yes, you're quite similar to Bill."

You beamed, floating over to him and ruffling his hair. "Another step closer to figuring out who I am! Thank you, Pines!"

Ford woke up.

He stared at the dark ceiling. The sun has barely risen.

You had no memories. If he helped you get them back, would you be indebted to him? Or would you turn out like Bill, who wanted to rule the world?

Ford can't let you meet up with another human.

There's only one way out of this.

🌒

"You're ready to use your wish?" you gasped, placing your hands on his shoulders. "That's excellent news—!"

"Question. Do you have limits in your wishes?" Ford asked deliberately, careful with his every word.

You hesitated before replying. "I suppose not."

His large hands held yours over his shoulders. You glanced at his six fingers before meeting his gaze again.

"Then I wish to be your master."

You felt your soul fall to the deepest depths of the dreamscape.

"You'll do anything I ask for. Be under my will. There is no turning back, dream demon."

🌑

[blueeyedgirll]

cuddles - emily prentiss x bau!reader

this fic includes: fluff, cuddling, only one bed trope (kind of?), vague descriptions of cm typical violence, no beta or proofread we die like emily’s fake death, penelope garcia being the best person to ever have graced the earth, no use of y/n, f!reader

a/n: guys i’m on season 7 now (^_-) also i don’t know how the fbi works SUE ME

“God, what a mess!” Emily exclaims, setting her bags down in the corner of the hotel room.

Unfortunately, due to the horrendously overcrowded convention going on nearby and your latest unsub’s comfort zone, you, JJ, Penelope, and Emily were forced to share a room.

“I can’t believe they could only give us two rooms. Couldn’t we have just stayed somewhere else?” JJ adds, removing her coat and hanging it in the room’s tiny closet.

“Unfortunately, my friends, our administration seems to love us enough to pay for our hotels, but not enough to move us into a company they don’t have a rapport with,” Penelope explains. She removes her hair accessories and piles them on the bathroom counter, her foot wedged in the bathroom door to stay in the conversation. “But it’s like a sleepover! Us girls get to share a room, and the boys have their own.”

“I haven’t had a sleepover since I was 12,” JJ says.

“Me neither,” you pipe up. “So who’s sleeping where tonight?”

Your eyes scan the room. Four girls, two beds, and eight eyes glancing at each other.

“I’m fine with sharing, but I do need to let you know I tend to steal blankets,” Penelope says, placing her accessories in a small box.

“Yeah, I’m fine with anything.” JJ says.

You and Emily briefly lock eyes. If you said sleeping in the same bed as Emily didn’t sound amazing, you’d be a liar. She’d been distracting you from your work and almost all your thoughts for the last few weeks; something about her demeanor, or her dark, sharp features, or that streak of playfulness she lets show on occasion. Whatever it is, it continues to drive you up a wall.

“Well, if none of you care, I want the bed closer to the AC unit because it is a stupidly warm night here.” Penelope steps over to the bed on the right side of the room, unpacking a fuzzy blanket and an extra pillow — how did she fit that in there? — from her bag.

“True that. If you two don’t mind, I’ll sleep closer to the AC too.” JJ says, looking between the two of you before moving.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You say, just a little bit too happy. You tell Emily to go ahead and get comfortable because you’re going to change. She nods as you shut yourself in the bathroom.

You use the bathroom to take a moment, take a breath. Part of you wonders what it will be like, sleeping in the same bed as Emily. The rest of you wonders how you’re going to keep your cool.

You change into your sleep clothes, a tank top and small shorts. The cool air of the room makes the hair on your body stand up.

You walk back out to a dark, silent room. The only light left on was the one to the left of Emily.

“Ready for bed?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you say, climbing into bed and wrapping the soft covers around you. Emily clicks the light off and slides down in the bed.

Before you can even start relaxing, images of the day flash back into your mind. The things the unsub did to his victims. The distraught loved ones of the deceased. The endless papers, leading you to repeated dead ends.

It only feels like a few minutes, but over the course of time, you grow colder and more restless. You toss and turn, trying to get more comfortable, but to no avail. Sighing, you turn to check the time, trying to find an estimate of how much sleep you would get.

The clock reads 4:24. You start contemplating just waking up extra early, but before you can reach a conclusion, you hear a whisper.

“Hey, you alright?” Emily whispers, turning to face you.

You pause for a moment. How honest should you be?

“Yeah, just… cold,” you say.

Emily takes a moment. You think she’s going to get up to grab a blanket, or lend you a hoodie, or anything else, but she scoots over to where you are and wraps her warm arms around your body. She gives you a firm squeeze. You know she knows you’re not just cold.

She starts to move away like it was just a hug. Before you can make a better decision, your hands stop her.

“Do you want me to stay?” Emily whispers.

You nod. Even though the darkness, Emily understands. She moves back to you, tucking your head into her shoulder. She wraps her arms around your middle and pulls the blanket fully over you.

She smells like lotion and coffee and clean clothes. It’s addictive. You nuzzle your head deeper into her, earning a small laugh and her hand making its way into your hair. She runs her nails over your scalp, brushing the hair off your neck.

“Are you okay?” she asks. You just hum, making her laugh again. “Goodnight. Sleep well for me.”

And with her arms around you, hand in your hair, you drift off into a comforting sleep.

bonus — the next morning, you wake up to giggling, which is quickly hushed. the entire day you and emily are the victims of glances and hushed whispers. on the jet home, you finally decide to ask penelope what was up with it. she doesn’t verbally respond, just shows you a picture of you sleeping like a baby, tucked into emily’s chest. at that moment she comes over, smiles, and walks back to her seat.

[tastesousweet]

⭒ blurb : calling hamzah your “friend”

bf!hamzah x poc!reader

summary : headcannons/blurb based on the tiktok trend of calling your partner “friend”

mickey speaks : since ppl really liked my first lil blurb imma just play out all my tt fantasies with our fake bf :D also pls send me any hamzah reqs my brain is very empty lmfao!!!!

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you prop your phone up against the vase of flowers on your dining room table, capturing both you and hamzah in frame.

“guysss!! look my friend brought me takeout hibachi for dinner tonight!” you squeal and lift the styrofoam box to show off your meal.

hamzah doesn’t catch it the first time, he’s honestly tweaking because he stopped to get you both dinner right after the gym.

he feels starved but maintains composure and a smile for your tiktok bit

“i just got the basic fried rice, veggies, and chicken. i think my friend got the same, hamzah what’d you get?”

his eyebrows pinch in confusion for a second, “uh yeah, i got the same as you.”

“okay first bites! i’ll have my friend go first” you can’t help but smile when you grab the phone and start to record hamzah, but he’s paused holding his fork in the air.

“why do you keep saying that?” he softly asks through a laugh.

“what?”

“callin’ me your friend?”

“are we not friends...?" "i mean yeah sure but like not just that?" "you're confusing me, just take your bite please we’re gonna run out of time on this”

he nods his head compliantly and exaggerates a hum of “mmm!” after his bite before taking your phone to film yours.

“okay friend, your turn!” he loudly mocks with a wide grin.

you try not to laugh while taking a bite yourself

“it's actually so good, i needed this right now.”

you now record the both of you, “okay my friend and i are gonna finish this and then we’ll be back with more bestie activities!”

as soon as you say 'friend' again hamzah leaves the frame to chuckle through the amount of food in his mouth.

“right, best friend?” you urge some more

he swallows and pettily glances from side to side, “where's the best friend at???”

“okay he’s trippin’ but we’ll be back”

you're both in your bathroom now, hamzah reads over the packaging of two sheet face masks while you pull your hair away from your face with a fuzzy cat-eared headband.

"'kay, now we're gonna do these face masks together, because hamzah’s such a good friend!” you hold and rub his arm.

he puffs his lips and closes his eyes in defeat while shaking his head, “stop,” he looks down at you, noticing your headband, “that’s cute,” he flicks one of the cat ears on your headband.

“you look like one of those get ready with me girls; you'd be like,” he mockingly pretends to push his hair back, “‘get ready with me to lie on the internet!’”

you laugh with him and add to the joke as well, "get ready with me to kill my boy-friend! my friend!" your eyes widen and you try hide the embarrassment.

hamzah quite literally points and laughs, "look at you! even you know you're a damn lie! girl, get outta here!"

cuts to a clip where it’s just hamzah talking to your phone as he shifts the mask around on his face, “i don’t even know if i’m doin’ this right, bruh.” he looks into the camera, “oh hell nah, i look crazy!”

“it feels so weird…” he taps at the slick, cold mask some more before coming close to the camera again, “guys im having a fucking identity crisis. why’s my girlfriend gaslighting me right now?"

“like, i didn’t even know that girls knew how to do that…comment down below right now and give me tips on how to understand women.”

“okay i found one, look how cute!” you’re back and holding another fuzzy headband with a bow in the middle.

hamzah laughs, “i love you, but im not wearing that.”

in the next clip of course he’s wearing it, “aw don't we look so cute?”

finally cuts to a clip of you later that night throwing yourself next to him in bed and flipping the camera to record him as he plays candy crush, curled under the comforter. “hi babbyyyyy! i was joking about the friend thing i know you’re my boyfriend.”

“i know you know i’m your boyfriend,” he distractedly mumbles, laying on his side while continuing to move his thumb around his phone screen.

you flip the camera once more as you wrap an arm around him and squish your face on top of his hooded head. he looks into the camera and smirks to himself when he sees your sweet face.

he sticks his tongue out obnoxiously, yells “goodnight vlog!!!” and covers your phone's camera with his hand forcing a loud cackle out of you.

[aemondsbabe]

Praise | Taunt Part 2

summary: michael has been tutoring you for weeks and the closer you get to him, the stronger your feelings seem to grow but does he feel the same way about you?

pairing: michael gavey x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, profanity, dirty talk, breast/nipple play, teasing, degradation/dumbification, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv sex, unprotected sex (technically the reader is on birth control but it's not mentioned in this part), angst (michael is in his sad boy hours for a lil bit), creampie, light cum play, light choking, daddy kink, dom/sub vibes, discussions of mathematics, michael being a lil clueless (aw, bless) -- let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 9.8k i will not apologize, i am not sorry

a/n: i have to say, i've grown so attached to this little pairing and i hope y'all love them as much as i do!

TAUNT | Part 1

MAKING AMENDS | Bonus

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“Fuck this,” you mutter, jaw clenched as you yank over the next page of your statistics textbook, practically ripping the page as you flip it over. You can’t help but grumble, each page of notes you flip through only adding to your foul mood as you hunch over your desk, numbers and letters swimming together in your vision. “Ugh!” You toss your pencil down, rubbing your temples as it clatters across the desk before falling to the floor. 

“Oi!” Louise sits up against the pillows on your bed across the room, tugging off a headphone as she looks at you, resting her own textbook on her lap, “You doin’ alright, babe?” 

“I’m gonna fail the final,” You groan, head in your hands, “I’m gonna fail it, and then fail out of Oxford, and then I’ll have to go back home and then my parents will kill me.” 

“You’re not gonna fail,” she sighs, pushing herself up so her legs dangle over the bed, “You’ll be fine. You were so worried about that last quiz and you nearly got a perfect score, remember?” 

You let out a petulant whine, one you’d be embarrassed about if your head wasn’t pounding, and lean back on your wooden desk chair, bleary eyes staring up at the ceiling. “That was before we started consumer mathematics,” you lament, chest heaving with a sigh, “I have no hope now.” 

You can feel Louise jokingly roll her eyes behind you when she huffs out a laugh as she slips off your bed, coming to stand behind you, her face upside down as she looks down at you, a hand on her hip. “Why don’t you just text Michael? I thought he’s been helping you.” 

Just hearing his name makes your heart feel funny in your chest and you sigh, sitting back up before turning to look at your friend, “It’s…complicated.” Inwardly, you can’t help but cringe at yourself; the situation is anything but complicated and yet it somehow feels impossible. 

“Explain,” Louise commands, leaning back against your desk with her arms crossed across her chest. She laughs when you groan, pushing your shoulders back from where you’ve curled in on yourself, forcing you to look at her, “Babe, I love you, but it’s Michael Gavey. How on Earth is that man ‘complicated?’” She asks, cocking her hip as she does air quotes with her hands. 

“Because I like him!” You blurt out after a second, hiding your face in your hands, “I like him and I don’t think he likes me and every damn time we study, we just end up fucking and I can’t keep fucking him because I like him!” The words rush out of you before you have time to think about them, your whole body deflating like a balloon as you release weeks worth of tension. 

Your head snaps up in shock when Louise giggles, your mouth hanging open even as the corners of your lips threaten to quirk up into a smile. “How dare you!” You admonish, playfully slapping at her hip, “I’m pouring my heart out to you and you laugh!” 

“Sorry, sorry!” She shakes her head, breathily laughing as she tries to get herself under control, “I’m sorry! I just…what do you mean he doesn’t like you? That man is in love.”

“What?” Your eyes narrow as you stare up at her, “How do you know? I’ve tried flirting with him and he doesn’t ever seem to respond to it.”

At this, Louise shakes her head and shoots you a concerned look, “I don’t think he’s the type to get flirting, hon.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you honestly think anyone has ever flirted with him?” Louise asks, giving you a pointed look, “I don’t have anything against the guy, but come on. You’re gonna have to hit him over the head with it.” 

“Yeah, okay,” you acquiesce; in your weeks of getting to know Michael, you’d learned that while he wasn’t clueless, he was definitely not as experienced as he had first appeared, “That still doesn’t mean he likes me, though.” You point out, raising an eyebrow at your friend. 

“Do you really not see the way he looks at you?” She smirks, “I’ve said two words to the man but, trust me, he is smitten, babe.”

You look away, biting at your bottom lip as you think over what she had to say. Your eyes scan over the surface of your desk, unfocused, as thoughts bounce around your head. Louise simply pats your shoulder before going back to your bed, resting on her stomach as she resumes reading through her book. 

You’re quiet for a moment before your eyes land on your phone, sitting temptingly on the corner of your desk. You glance back and forth between it and the still-opened textbook in front of you, frustration rising in your chest once again at the mere sight of the various formulas on the pages. Finally, with a sigh, you grab your phone and flip it open, quickly scrolling to Michael’s contact. 

“U busy now?” You text quickly, pressing send before you have a chance to second guess yourself before setting the phone down quickly, practically dropping it on the desk as if it were burning you. 

Not even a minute later, although it feels like an eternity, it vibrates. You hesitate for a second, tempted to just slog your way through this chapter on your own. Finally, you sigh and reach for your phone, not wanting to sacrifice your newly-improved grade or your situationship with Michael. 

“In my room. Why?” He replies, always concise and to the point. 

“Need help w the new chap,” you type, biting your lip as you shuffle through letters on the small keyboard, “Can I come over?”

“Sure, see you soon.” His reply comes quickly, making your heart race. 

With a nervous sigh, you push yourself up from your chair, groaning as you take a second to stretch before striding over to your small dresser. “I’m going to his,” you say, glancing over at Louise, “I’m officially waving the white flag on this chapter.”

“Wear lingerie!” She says quickly, practically skipping over to you and leaning against the wall next to you.

“What?” You laugh, shooting her a questioning look, “Why would I do that?”

“Duh!” She huffs with an eye roll, “Put in some effort to fuck him and it might help get the message across.”

“How do you know we’ve been–”

“Your room is right next to mine,” she points out, looking at you tiredly, “And the walls in this ancient building are thin as paper. Come on.”

“Okay, okay,” you put your hands up in surrender with a laugh before pulling open your underwear drawer; as convoluted as Louise’s plan was, you couldn’t exactly see a downside to fancying up a little, “Any suggestions?”

“Hmm,” she hums, shuffling through the small pile of fancy lace you had shoved in the corner of the drawer, “Ooh, these!” She chimes victoriously, holding up a lacy bra, “This color always looks so good on you, you’ll make his head explode.” 

With a nod, you grab the bra and matching underwear from her, “If this doesn’t help, I will be holding you personally accountable.” You laugh, seeing her politely turn away from you in the corner of your eye as you begin pulling your clothes off. 

“I mean, it is still on you to actually say something,” she chuckles, peering out the window as she waits for you to change, “Honestly, if it was me, I would’a locked that shit down ages ago. The sounds I hear coming from this room…” She jokes, shaking her head.

“Sounds?” You ask, your face flushing as you hurriedly clasp the thin bra behind your back, “You can hear us?”

“You two are not nearly as sneaky as you think,” she laughs, “I mean, who would’ve thought that little nerd had it in him?”

“He has hooked up with people,” you defend, pulling on a t-shirt and skirt, short enough that you knew it would make the blond’s head spin, “He’s not totally helpless.”

“Hookups are different than boyfriend dick,” Louise points out, shuffling back on your bed until her back was resting against the wall next to it, “And based on all the screams I hear from you, Michael has boyfriend dick.” 

With a laugh, you roll your eyes, not even bothering to question her as you shove your things into your backpack. Sitting down at your desk chair, you pull your small mirror over and give your hair and makeup one last look over, glancing back at Louise as she continues, “I mean, come off it, babes. You don’t even make those noises by yourself.”

“You can hear me?!” You squeak out, whipping your head around.

“The walls are paper thin!” She laughs, “I’m sure you can hear me too, and everyone else. You honestly think that doesn’t go both ways?”

“Ha ha,” you say dryly, slipping on your shoes before standing and grabbing your keys from the small hook next to the door of your room, “I’m going, can you lock my door when you leave?” 

“Yup!” Louise chirps, not bothering to look up from her phone as she waves you off, “Go get that nerd dick!”

With a sigh and an eye roll, you pull your door closed.

You make it to Michael’s in record time and pause in front of his door, giving yourself a minute to calm down before you nervously knock. 

Almost instantly, the door swings open. The thought that he might’ve been perched next to it, waiting for you to show up, makes your chest squeeze as you murmur a hello. 

“Hiya, pretty.” He says lowly as you move past him, closing the door and watching as you dump your backpack by his bed. His room wasn’t much different than most other guy’s dorms you’d been in – sparsely decorated with only the essentials, although you did appreciate the posters and pictures Michael had hanging up. There were all sorts of different ones pinned to the dark wooden walls, from bands he liked to small polaroids of his pets from home. Every time you were here, though, your heart couldn’t help but hurt a little as you never saw pictures similar to some of the ones you had up – ones with friends. 

“Needed some help from little old me?” He teases. 

“Yes, oh my God!” You sigh, your dramatics making him crack a smile as he takes a seat at his desk, “This new chapter is doing my head in!”

“Alright, alright love,” he murmurs, signature smirk poised on his lips as his blue eyes peer at you from behind his glasses, “Get your things, I’ll see if I can help.”

With a nod, you pull your notebook from your backpack as he turns to the chapter in his own textbook. As you move, you can’t help but glance at him from the corner of your eye, taking in everything from the dark red t-shirt he wore, complete with a cheesy maths pun on the front, to how ruffled his golden hair was, like he’d just woken up from a nap. Maybe the light was playing tricks on you, but you swore you saw him glance over at you a time or two too. 

“Haven’t heard much from you this week,” you start, pulling up the extra chair he kept in a corner of his dorm room, “How’ve you been? Oh! And how did that paper for your calculus class turn out?” You ask, glancing at him as you flip through the pages of your notebook, looking for where you’d left off. 

“Oh, yeah,” he clears his throat, leaning an elbow on his desk, “The paper was great, actually. Thank you for your help by the way,” his lips curve up in a sheepish grin, “I’ve always been a bit shit at writing.” 

“Yeah, no problem,” try to ignore the way your stomach twists at his gratitude, “I’ve always been shit at maths so it works out.” You joke, pride filling your chest when he chuckles. The longer you’d spent working with Michael, the more comfortable the two of you became, and slowly but surely he’d let his guard down. He was still the same cocky, downright arrogant prick in class but when it was just the two of you, you couldn’t help but notice that he’d grown…softer. Those sharp, taunting edges of his had been smoothed a little, sanded down by jokes he shared with you rather than sarcastic jabs directed at you. 

“Mmm,” he hummed, those blue eyes you’d grown so enamored with sparkling with mirth, like he was always just one step ahead of you, “Don’t sell yourself short, baby. You’ve improved a lot,” your cheeks flush and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life, whirling around wildly at the simple compliment, “Not nearly as much of a dummy as you were a few weeks ago, yeah?” He finishes, lips tugged up in a viciously smug smile as he watches the way your eyes grow wide, the way the pink hues making their home on the apples of your cheeks bloom ever brighter, extending almost all the way to your neck. 

“Michael,” your voice is hoarse as you croak his name, desperately willing your mind to stay on track, “C-Can we focus on the notes, please? I really do need help, I mean maybe later we can–”

“Don’t get yourself in a tizzy,” he says, blessedly cutting off your nervous babbling, “What’s giving you problems, pretty?”

“Uhh,” you fumble, kicking yourself internally as you scramble to reset your brain, “The stuff we went over last week,” you flip through your notes, finally pointing your pen at the hastily scribbled notes you’d taken in class, “The monthly investment stuff; I guess the formula Professor Davies went over just seems really complicated to me. Like, I was having a really hard time following it in class with the way he was explaining it.”

Michael nods his head as he listens, his eyes quickly scanning over your notes before flitting to the accompanying pages in his nextbook as he lets out a sigh. “Ahh, okay,” his fingers brush over yours as he takes your pen, once again sending your mind into a flurry as you blink, desperately trying to clear the fog that seemed so determined to invade your brain, “So, remember the compound interest formula we went over earlier?” 

You nod as he peers over at you, admittedly only halfway listening as your heart hammers in your chest. “Uhm, y-yeah,” you nearly whisper before clearing your throat, “Yeah.” You nod once more, trying to keep your voice steady as you watch him scrawl notes on your paper; your eyes glaze over as you observe the way his long fingers hold your pen, making it all too easy to imagine those same fingers sliding into your mouth and holding your tongue down as he whispers filthy things into your ear, skirting their way into your underwear and curling just right against –

“It works similarly,” Michael continues, hunched over the textbook as he copies down a sample problem, “So, the monthly investment formula is basically just the yearly salary over twelve months. I think the formula is getting to you, but it’s not really that complicated in practice.”

You nod your head dutifully, his voice sounding muffled to your ears as your thoughts continue spiraling, lewd thoughts of his fingers and cock playing like a video on the backs of your eyes. He hands the pen back to you as he finishes copying down the question, gazing at you expectantly as you look over the problem. 

“Okay, so, uhm,” you stammer, eyes desperately scanning over the page as if the answer will magically reveal itself to you, “So…you’d divide these…?” You ask timidly, already knowing you’re wrong. 

“You aren’t paying attention at all, love,” he says, not even needing to question it as he shakes his head in mock disappointment, “What’s going on in that pretty head, hm? What got you so distracted?” He rasps, one hand moving up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, even that simple action damn near causing you to whimper. 

“I don't,” you swallow, mouth dry as your eyes flutter shut for a half second before reluctantly meeting his, heart pounding wildly in your chest as the smirk on his face makes a graceful reappearance when he sees the glazed over, near empty look on your face, “I don’t know.” You finish finally, voice breathy despite your best efforts.

“Hmm,” he hums again, trailing that hand down your neck and the side of your arm before finally letting it rest atop the thigh closest to him, his touch practically burning your skin, “I think I have a pretty good idea of what’s taken over that empty fuckin’ head.”

Before you even have a chance to reply, his hands are on your hips. He firmly pulls you into his lap, lithe frame disguising his true strength as he settles you atop his thighs. 

“Michael, I–”

“Hush,” he commands softly, warm hands skirting over your waist as he tugs you back into him, your back pressing into the familiar expanse of his chest once again, “I know exactly how to help, pretty girl.” He whispers, his breath fanning over your cheek before he presses a light kiss there, trailing them down over the side of your neck as his hands slip under the bottom of your t-shirt. His touch makes shivers cascade down your spine as you feel his hands ghost over your stomach before they cup your breasts; he lets out a pleased hum when he feels the delicate lace of your bra, which does nothing to hide your already pebbled nipples as they press against the palms of his hands.

“I think,” he continues, chuckling darkly when he already hears small whines escaping past your lips as he continues massaging your breasts, “You need that wet little cunt played with, hm? I know she’s already dripping, pretty.” His voice is rough as he speaks, his hips grinding up into you, making you mewl on his lap as you feel his cock already poking against you even through the jeans he wears.

“P-Please,” you whine brokenly, embarrassed to already be reduced to such a state, “Please, Michael, I need…fuck, I need something, anything, please!” You’re used to begging for him by now, the two of you have hooked up enough over the past few weeks that you know he loves how whimpery and desperate you get, loves to hear the little hitch in your voice when you beg and plead with him so. 

“Not Michael,” he grunts, roughly pinching at your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra, just enough to make you cry out and squirm on his lap, “Try again.”

“Oh–,” you gasp, unable to stop the way your hips desperately wriggle on his lap, tantalized by the feel of him, even through all the layers of clothing between you, “Sir! Sir, please!” 

He huffs out a laugh, low and raspy in your ear as he trails one hand up, poking it through the collar of your shirt to wrap it lightly around your throat – not enough to choke you, but just enough to remind you of your place. “Someone must be feeling extra stupid today, hm? Haven’t been sir in weeks, love, you know that.” 

A hungry whine claws its way past your lips as your head tilts back onto his shoulder, your eyes squeezing shut as your cheeks heat up, trembling in his lap. This has been his favorite part, experimenting with that one little name it takes so much for you to say. It’s funny really, eventually he’d admitted to only hearing it in a porno, not something he could attribute to his string of experiences with one night stands. You’d just been the first person he’d been intrigued about enough to try it on; he was hooked the moment he saw your reaction and had slowly worked it into your little routine, requiring you to day it, to beg him so prettily with it, before he’d ever give you what you wanted. 

“Come on now,” he groans, the movements of your hips finally getting to him, “Tell me what I want to hear and I’ll keep this precious cunt occupied so that that little head can work properly.” His hand abandons your breast, a laugh rumbling through him at your cries as he trails it up one thigh, slipping it under the bottom of your skirt. 

“Daddy!” You finally blurt out, the ache in your core finally growing too big for you to keep denying, “Please, daddy, please, just… fuck, just do something!”

“Shh, shh, babygirl,” he coos, half laughing as he slips his hand up under your skirt, cupping your throbbing center over the thin lace of your panties, groaning when he feels how hot and wet you are under his touch, “No wonder you can’t think straight, hm? So messy.”

You whimper helplessly in his lap,  hands scrabbling before they tightly cling to the forearm he has halfway under your skirt. “Oh, fuck,” you breathe heavily, head swimming as his fingers press down on your aching clit before circling the bud slowly, the lace of your underwear only adding to the fire building within you, “Oh, my God!”

Michael grunts lowly into your ear as he twirls his fingers against you, nipping at your neck as he rocks against you from below. “Here’s how this is gonna go, love,” he whispers lowly, speeding up the movements of his long fingers against you, “If you can get the formula right, you can come…”

“Wha–!” You splutter, your chest already heaving as you struggle to catch your breath, nails digging into his forearm as you feel the knot in your stomach already beginning to tighten; Michael had made it his mission over the last few weeks to learn every little thing that made you tick, and Christ, if he wasn’t a fast learner, “T-That’s not–”

“If you can’t get it right,” he continues, smirking against your cheek as he presses his fingers ever tighter into the column of your throat, “Then I’ll just keep edging and edging you until I’ve gotten my fill of those precious fucking noises you make, hm?”

You struggle in his hold, not getting very far as his touch has already reduced your muscles to jelly. Your hips keep rutting up into his fingers despite your feeble attempts to stop yourself, knowing he absolutely means to make good on his threats. With a defeated whine, you let your head loll to the side on his shoulder, burying your face against the pale expanse of his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you breathe in his now-familiar scent, although that only serves to put you more on edge. 

Michael suddenly moves, sitting up straighter in his desk chair and bringing you with him, causing you to yelp a bit. He keeps a steady hold on you as he leans forward, his fingers never ceasing their circular movements on your aching clit as he tilts you forward, angling your head so you’re once again face-to-face with the textbook and notes still laid out on the desk. 

“Now,” he starts, resting his chin on your shoulder as his eyes scan over the pages in front of you both, seemingly wholly unbothered with your current state, “What’s the first step?”

You can feel your eyes stinging with unshed tears as you blearily look over the paper, your eyes not really focusing on anything as you feel the knot in your stomach pull tighter and tighter with each movement of his hands against you. 

“M-Michael, I–” Your voice sticks in your throat, your hips moving entirely of their own accord in his lap as your walls clench desperately around nothing, that familiar growing ache nearly taking over your entire center as your breath hitches. 

“Ooh,” he murmurs with saccharine sympathy, quickly pulling his fingers from you just before you fall over the edge; you can feel him smirking wickedly against your cheek as you twitch against him, letting out mournful little whines, “That was a close one, wasn’t it, pretty girl?”

The room feels as if it’s spinning as you come down from your almost-high, your walls throbbing as low cries slip past your lips. “F-Fuck…” you sigh hoarsly, hips still pathetically twitching against his jean-clad lap. 

“I know you know this,” his breath is warm against your cheek as he angles his head toward yours, blond hair tickling the side of your face as he peers at you from behind his glasses, “Be a good fucking girl and tell me which step is first and I’ll touch you again.”

Your eyes frantically scan over the problem as you will yourself to remember something, anything, from one of Professor Davies’s lectures last week, your hands abandoning Michael’s forearm to white-knuckle the edge of his desk instead as you try to steady yourself. 

“Y-You, uhm, you multiply,” you start, swallowing heavily as something finally seems to click together in your brain, “You multiply the exponents, daddy.” 

You practically preen under his touch as you feel more so than hear the pleased hum he lets out. “Very good,” he drawls slowly, pressing soft kisses against your cheek, “See? I knew there was something going on in that head of yours.” You know he’s taunting you on purpose, pulling out every trick he knows will make you blush, though you can’t bring yourself to care as you feel your heart soar with his praises. 

A loud moan tumbles past your lips as he resumes touching you, his fingers once again teasing your clit through the thin fabric of your panties, the aching bud now all the more sensitive to his touches after you were denied an orgasm. You nearly double over on his lap as pleasure immediately zings up your spine, your muscles tensing in his hold. 

His hand abandons your throat and pulls out from under your shirt completely as he reaches for your pen and quickly scribbles down the first step of the formula, easily multiplying the numbers in his head before setting your pen back down. 

“Now then, what’s next, love?” He chuckles meanly against your cheek as you whine. He groans appreciatively as he feels your arousal leaking into your panties, soaking the fabric against his fingers while his other hand comes up to cup your breast over your shirt, feeling your aching nipple pressing against his hand even through the fabric. 

This game continues for what feels like an eternity, his fingers delicately teasing you right up to your breaking point before he cruelly yanks his hand away as he quizzes you again and again until you slowly but surely work your way through each step of the problem. 

You’re a sweaty mess on his lap now, skin damp and flushed as he pulls his hand away for what must be the hundredth time, although in reality it’s only the fifth. You let out a feeble whine, long past begging and pleading as you know it won’t do any good. 

“You’re so close,” he teases, chuckling to himself at the double meaning of his words, “Just need to solve it now, pretty baby. The sooner you do, the sooner I’ll make you come.” He promises, patting his fingers over the soaked patch on your panties just enough to make you jump. 

“D-Daddy, please!” You sniffle, no longer trying to reign in the tears streaming down your cheeks as your center aches and clenches, empty, “Please, I need–”

“You need to answer the fucking question,” he grunts through clenched teeth, one hand still cupping your spasming center while the other shoots up to your neck, angling your head toward the paper once more, “You asked me for help, love. And I’d say this is helping; looks like that empty little brain is able to recall information after all.” He teases, smirking cruelly as he ruts against your ass, taunting you with his hard length yet again. “Come on,” he continues, urging you on, “You’re doing so, so well for daddy. Just need the last little bit.”

Your head spins as you look at the paper and you halfway wonder if your fingers have made intents in the wood of his desk yet, “It’s, it’s the yearly salary,” you say quickly, voice high-pitched and breathy, “T-The yearly salary over twelve, fuck, m-months.” You rush out, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Somehow, more blood seems to rush to your cheeks as he gasps in fake surprise, really laying it on thick for you. “Oh, what a good girl!” He praises, arms wrapping around you tightly as you squirm in his hold, his warm body pressing against yours only making your need greater, “I knew you could do it, that’s right, love!” 

Quickly, he multiplies the numbers you indicated, mumbling under his breath as he quickly thinks through the equation. A few seconds later, you hear your pen moving against the paper as he scribbles down your answer, circling it with an over-done flourish. 

“You’ve done it!” He coos happily, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of your cheek, trailing them down your jaw and neck, “You want your prize now?” He asks lowly, trailing his hand back up your thigh slowly, fingers just barely skimming over your throbbing center. 

All at once, you seem to come back to yourself as the fog lifts momentarily behind your eyes as your desperation drives you. You nod your head frantically as you turn on his lap, finally facing him and relishing the sweet, proud smile spread across his lps. 

“Please, Michael, daddy,” you ramble, pressing kisses against his cheeks and neck before he finally angles his head and catches your lips with his; the two of you sigh into the kiss, yours morphing into a desperate whine as you press your chest against his, shivering as your nipples peak from the warmth of his body alone. His tongue licks along your lower lip before he gently nips at it, chuckling as you mewl into his mouth as his tongue meets yours. You kiss him frantically, sighing happily when he delicately sucks your tongue into his mouth before you pull away with a whimper. “Please, please, I need it,” you murmur against his lips, clinging to his shoulders, “I can’t wait any longer, please!”

He shushes you with a soft laugh, hands skimming over your waist. “D’you want my mouth or my fingers, pretty girl?” He mutters softly, holding you steady on his lap.

“Mouth!” You answer instantly, making him chuckle at your desperation, “Please, please!”

“On the bed,” he commands, giving you one last kiss before pushing you up, helping to steady your shaky legs, “Good girl.” He praises again, patting your ass teasingly when you finally steady yourself enough to cross the room, stopping to kick off your shoes quickly before sitting yourself down on the bed.

Michael follows after you, smirking as he kneels on the bed, one foot still on the floor. He smiles and cups both of your cheeks, kissing you once more like he can’t get enough. “You, pretty girl, are very overdressed,” He drawls, waiting for your subtle nod before pulling your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor by the bed. “Holy…” his eyes are wide as he stares at your chest, taking in the way the delicate lace perfectly cups your breasts, nipples visible through the thin material, already hardened from his earlier ministrations. 

Upon seeing his reaction, you get bold. Smirking, you pull up your skirt, spreading your legs as you draw your knees up to your chest, giving him a perfect view of your matching panties; the lace, long since soaked through with your arousal, practically glimmers in the low lamp-light of his room. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, one hand adjusting his hard length, straining against his jeans as his blue eyes sweep over you, taking in every flawless inch, “To what do I owe the honor, hm?” He finally collects himself, smirking again as he reaches out to lightly skim a finger over the soft silk of one strap of your bra. He’s never seen you in something this nice, and certainly never a matching set, the sight of the soft lace against your skin would be enough to make him finish in his jeans if he weren’t careful. 

“Wanted to wear something special for you…” You say with a small shrug, heat rising to your cheeks once again as you look up at him shyly through your lashes. 

He tilts his head to the side, clearly not picking up on the deeper meaning behind your words as he squints his eyes at you, confused. “Why…why would you wanna wear something special for me, love?” He questions softly, his voice coming out more as a breath than words. 

“Michael,” you sigh, squirming under his affectionate gaze as you gather every ounce of confidence in your body. You swallow as your eyes dart between his, your heart quickly speeding up in your chest; you take a deep breath, Louise’s words echoing in your head, “I…I really like you.” You say simply, carefully watching his reaction.

“You…do?” He asks slowly, eyebrows shooting up in surprise, his eyes widening as he watches you nod with a shy smile. “Why me?” His voice is smaller this time, his whole body seeming to deflate as he sits back on the edge of his bed, shoulders slumped as one foot still rests against the wooden floor. 

“Why wouldn’t I like you?” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, head cocking to the side as you move closer to him, placing a hand on his knee. 

He sighs heavily, glancing up at you before looking down to where your hand rests on his leg, “No one really does.” He finally sighs, his eyes downcast.

Without thinking, you move closer to him, pressing yourself against him as you practically climb into his lap. This time, it’s your turn to gently cup his cheeks, your thumbs resting just under the gold rims of his glasses as you angle his head toward you. “I do,” you say softly before frowning a bit, pulling away just an inch, “Do…do you not feel the same way?”

“No!” He says quickly, shaking his head as he grabs at you, pulling you back toward him, “I mean yes! I mean,” he sighs frustratedly, running a hand through his hair as he swallows heavily, “I do like you, I– Fuck, I don’t know who I’m kidding, I’ve never liked anyone this much,” he says softly, smiling as he watches your eyes grow wide, “I just…never thought a girl like you would want much to do with me.”

“What does that mean?” You whisper, heart hammering so hard in your chest you’re sure he can hear it with as little distance as there is between the two of you.

“I…,” he pauses, chuckling bitterly, “I guess I always assumed you’d wind up with Catton or…or one of his little minions. Everyone does.” 

“Everyone?”

He tilts his head up to stare at the ceiling for a second, like he’s willing himself to tell you some deep, dark secret. Finally, he fixes his gaze on you again, one hand fiddling with the seam at the bottom of your skirt. “He was my friend once,” he begins, his voice soft and uncertain, “I don’t think I ever meant much to him, he just took me in as some charity case. To help the weirdo loner boy, I guess.”

You stay silent as he pauses, watching him carefully as he speaks. The corners of his mouth twitch before finally dropping into a frown, his eyebrows pulling together as if he were in pain. 

“I don’t know what happened in the end, to be honest,” he continues, blinking his eyes as he shuffles through memories, “I think maybe I wasn’t falling in line enough – I didn’t just blindly follow him like the others. He must’ve gotten tired of it cause one day I got to school and everyone just acted as if I wasn’t there, even mates I’d had before. They all just got pulled into his orbit and left me.”

“Michael…” you coo softly, thumbs lightly brushing over his cheeks.

“And then, one night I went to the pub with– with Oliver.” He practically spits his name, nose twitching with anger. 

“Oliver?” You question, the name ringing a bell as your eyes narrow, trying to picture his face, “Oliver Quick, you mean?”

He nods, eyes flitting around his room before they settle on you again. “He was my friend…I thought he was anyway. Way back at the start of term,” he sighs, lips pulling up in a sardonic smile, “We went to the pub one evening to celebrate finally finishing some paper or whatever, and…you were there.”

“I was?” You pull back from him a fraction of an inch in shock, your eyes flitting over his face.

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding his head, “Sitting at a table with Catton and all the rest of the cunts.”

“Felix and I were never that close Mich–”

“And I got up to get another pint and when I got back…he was gone.” He continued, huffing out a bitter laugh. 

“Oliver?”

“Yep,” he nods, hands gripping your waist more firmly as if he’s trying to anchor you to him, “He’d gone to sit with you lot and never so much as looked my way again. Then, once Professor Davies’s class started, I…Fuck, I liked you from the minute you walked through the door on the first day, love.”

“You did?” You smile at his confession, thinking back to all those months ago.

He hums again, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he buries his face in your neck, glasses smushed against his cheek, “‘N then I realized where I knew you from and I…lost hope. Got jealous. Doesn’t matter I just…I was so determined not to like you.”

“But…you do?”

He hums again, nodding against your cheek, “I remember kicking myself when I agreed to tutor you,” he laughs, breath fanning over your neck and collarbone, “But you’re really not like them, hm?”

You shake your head emphatically, holding him tighter to you as if that will somehow better prove your point, “I’m not.” You say simply, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. 

The two of you stay silent for a moment before Michael’s shoulders start shaking a little; you pull back a bit, worried that he’s upset until you see he’s laughing, gazing at you as if you were some ethereal being. “I cannot believe you fucking like me,” he laughs, damn near giggling, “No one bloody likes me.”

You can’t help but laugh with him, leaning your forehead against his. “Well, fuck them,” you say firmly with a cheeky grin, “I like you enough for every damn idiot in this school.”

The two of you laugh together for another moment before you feel that familiar heat building in your belly again, never able to stave it off very long when you’re in his presence. Michael must feel it too, one second you’re laughing with him and the next his fingers are threading through the hair at the back of your head and pulling you in for a hard kiss, pressing his lips desperately against yours as if he’s trying to prove to himself you won’t disappear. You whimper softly as his tongue licks into your mouth, swallowing his groans as you move your lips fluidly against his before he pulls away quickly.

“Gotta fucking taste you, love,” he whispers roughly, hands blindly searching for the clasp of your bra. You feel it pop open a moment later, a low, victorious hum sounding from his chest as he finally pulls it off, tossing it off the bed to land next to your shirt, “Fuck, I love these tits.” He groans hotly, quickly kissing down your shoulder and chest before taking a pert nipple into his mouth, making you gasp loudly.

“Oh, fuck!” You moan, eyes squeezing shut as you finally feel his mouth on you, head spinning at the way his tongue teases over your sensitive nipple before he sucks it into his hot mouth, “Michael, please, need it!” You whine pitifully, rutting yourself down on his thigh. 

He guides you back gently, coaxing you to lay down on his bed as his hands push up under your short skirt once more to quickly pull your panties down, tossing them over his shoulder. “Not Michael, baby, remember?” He asks teasingly, pushing your thighs up and hooking his hands behind your knees. 

He guides your knees up and up until your knees are pressed against your chest, all the while pressing soft kisses to the backs of your thighs as he peers up at you over his gold-rimmed glasses, strands of blond hair resting against his forehead. 

“Please, daddy!” You correct yourself quickly, not wanting to take any chances of him teasing you further. You wiggle your hips in his grasp, making him chuckle lowly as he presses kisses closer and closer to where you want him. Giggling, damn near giddy with the excitement of having his mouth on you, you reach down and gently pull his glasses off and reach up to set them on the small table beside his bed. 

“Shh, you’ll get it,” he promises, breath hot against your slick folds as he uses his thumbs to spread you apart, groaning appreciatively when he sees how wet you are, how your pussy clenches tightly around nothing, “You earned it, my love.” 

The pet name sends you into a tailspin almost as much as the feeling of his warm tongue pressing against your clit does. You let out a long, satisfied moan at the feeling of it, arching your hips up into his mouth. 

His groan of satisfaction vibrates through you, only adding to the sensations of his lips and tongue on your aching center. “Fucking hell,” he mumbles, releasing his hold on one thigh to run two long fingers through your slick, gathering it as he teases your entrance, “It’s been far too long.” He groans, speaking more to your throbbing core than you, the thought sending another zap of pleasure swirling up your spine. 

“It’s been, like, a week!” Your giggle turns into a breathy moan as he kisses your clit, gently suckling it between his lips as he carefully slips two fingers into you, immediately crooking them up against the spot that he knows will drive you wild. 

“Too long,” he grunts into your folds, tongue sweeping over the length of you before he teases it at your clit. “Fuck, if I could eat this sweet little cunt every day, I would.” 

Your eyes roll back in your head and your back arches as he feasts on you, shaking his head back and forth to bury his face further into your heat. He growls into you as he licks into your entrance, removing his fingers for a moment to fuck his tongue into you, savoring your sweet taste while the tip of his nose rubs perfectly over your clit. 

“Fuck, fuck, oh, fuck,” you gasp, body jerking and twitching as pleasure floods through you, the knot in your stomach growing dangerously tight at just a few touches, “D-Daddy, I’m— oh, fuck!” You cry, arching your back as he slips his fingers into you, expertly fucking and curling them against that rough patch within you, making stars dance behind your eyelids. 

“Y’getting close?” Michael murmurs around your clit, sucking it into his mouth and laving his tongue over it before letting it slip from his lips with a wet pop, “S’okay, my love, come on. You don’t need to ask for it, baby girl, you’ve earned it, just come.” He coaxes, slipping a third finger in beside the first two and grinning when he hears you cry out at the added stretch.

You breathe heavily, chest heaving as you pant, wanton whimpers and whines spilling past your lips as your fingers weave into his golden hair. Michael’s eyes roll back in his head at the feeling, so pleased with himself that he can make you feel this good, that he can pull these sounds from you that he groans, long and low, into your cunt as he licks and sucks at your folds, flicking his tongue over your swollen bud. 

“Can feel you getting tight, pretty girl,” his lips move against your clit as he speaks, “This sweet cunt wants to milk daddy’s fingers, doesn’t she? Fucking let her, baby, come on.” 

The knot inside your belly implodes on itself as your body loses all sense of rhythm, every muscle contracting and relaxing as waves of pleasure finally wash over you. You can feel your walls pulsing around Michael’s fingers as your high consumes you, a garbled moan of his name leaving your lips as you shake against him. 

He doesn’t let up, digits pressing tightly against the spot inside you as he lewdly spits onto your cunt, loudly slurping it up as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, sucking your still-pulsing bud into his mouth as he does. 

“T-Too much!” You whimper, squirming in his hold as you feel yet another high quickly building within you, “Michael, d-daddy, please!” 

“Hush,” he huffs, speeding up his movements enough to make you squeal as tears spring to your eyes, “You know what I want, baby girl, give it to me, let yourself have it.”

You grunt loudly as another wave consumes you, your eyes tightly squeezing shut when you feel yourself contracting around his thick fingers yet again. You’re so lost within yourself, you barely hear the slick, sloshing sounds emanating from your heat, but you certainly hear the deep, proud moan that Michael lets out, eyes widening as he watches your cunt squirt around his fingers, droplets wetting his wrist and the sheets on his bed. 

You’re practically sobbing by the time he slows his fingers to a stop and gingerly pulls his fingers from you, shushing you gently when you whimper. “What a good girl,” he says softly, noisily licking his fingers clean of the evidence of your release, “Did so good for me, baby.” 

The soft praises help you come back to yourself, brain returning to your body in just enough time to get a glimpse of Michael’s face before he buries it in your neck, a blush creeping across your cheeks from the shine of your release on his lips and chin. 

“Thank you.” You whisper tiredly, eyes slipping shut as he presses kisses to your neck and jaw. 

He laughs softly, leaning on his side next to you, one hand tracing up and down your body as he looks you over. “You wanna keep going or did I wear you out?” 

You keep your eyes shut even as a playful smile slinks across your lips, a small giggle slipping past your lips as you wiggle your hips enticingly, making him chuckle with you. 

The bed shifts suddenly, causing you to peek one eye open. “There she is,” Michael laughs when you open both eyes fully, watching as he quickly pulls his t-shirt over his head, throwing it to the floor to join yours. He stays on his knees as he unbuttons his jeans, giving you plenty of time to take in his pale chest and stomach, covered in a light wash of blond hair that tapers off to a trail, disappearing beneath the denim around his slender waist, “Want my cock, baby?” He asks, leaning back down beside you as he kicks off his jeans and boxers, cock springing out and resting hotly against your thigh. 

Biting your lip, you can’t help but reach down and stroke him gently, a soft sigh leaving you at the sight of his perfect length. Michael grunts next to you, his head tilting back ever so slightly as he finally feels some stimulation on his cock. The delicate sound makes your heart race, knowing you could bring him such pleasure from such a simple touch. A blush blooms on your cheeks as you gaze up at him through your lashes, eyes wide as you smirk and wiggle your hips enticingly. 

He smiles at you, eyes sweeping over your form admiringly, before finally meeting your eyes, slightly squinting as he looks at you without his glasses. 

“I’ll take that as a yes?” He teases, chuckling as you nod eagerly and tuck your behind your knees, holding your legs up to your chest as your skirt looks around your middle. He leans in and kisses you softly, a certain emotion behind his movements that hasn’t ever been there before. He keeps you close as he moves, never taking his lips off of yours while he maneuvers himself on top of you, slotting himself between your thighs with a pleased exhale. 

Your back arches as you feel him slide his cock between your folds, the head slipping perfectly against your clit. You grasp onto his shoulders to anchor yourself, mewling into his mouth as his hands grab onto the backs of your knees once more, holding you open for him. His lips trail down your jaw and neck, stopping to nip lightly at your skin, before continuing downward to your breasts. He licks and kisses over each one, paying special attention to your nipples and laughing softly at the cacophony of whimpers and whines you make as he teases them with his tongue. 

“I’ve got you,” he sighs, pulling back just enough to grasp his cock, notching the head inside your opening, just enough to make you gasp and squirm, “Y’wanna go dumb on my cock, babygirl?” He says lowly, resting his forehead against yours as he bends down enough to make the muscle in the back of your thigh ache with the stretch. 

“Oh, please!” You breathe, canting your hips up in an attempt to get even just a bit more of his cock into you, “Please, daddy!” 

With a growl, Michael slowly slips inside you, humming deep in his chest as he does, his eyes slipping closed as he savors your tight, wet heat. 

“F-Fuck,” you squeak out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fills you completely, his girth stretching you to the brim, leaving no part of you untouched, “You feel so good!” You whine, eyes fluttering as you try desperately to remain focused on him, never tiring of the expressions he makes when he’s inside you. 

Slowly, he begins thrusting into you, groaning lowly as your fingers grip tighter at his shoulders. His blue eyes roll back in his head, brows furrowing as he slowly speeds up, rocking into you in a perfect motion. 

“Feels so good,” he gasps out, ardently biting and sucking at your neck as he does, angling his hips to make sure the tip of his cock presses against that sensitive spot inside you, “So fucking tight, shit.” 

The two of you move together, his hips smacking against the backs of your thighs as he plunges in and out of you. You can’t help but blush when the wet, squelching sound of your cunt begins drowning out the sharp gasps leaving your lips every time he thrusts back in, the tip of his cock brushing deliciously against the very back of your heat. 

A rumbling laugh sounds in his chest as he hears it too, making you flush somehow deeper as he fixes you with a filthy grin. “Little pussy loves me, huh?” He rasps, groaning at the sight of you trying frantically to answer, your mouth hanging open as useless whines and moans warble past your lips. “She does, hm? Pretty cunt loves daddy’s cock.” 

“Yeah, yeah— fuck!” You mumble, nodding your foggy head as best as you can as you gaze up at him longingly, breasts bouncing along with his thrusts, “L-Love it, daddy, fuck!” 

He moans softly and grinds himself against you, driving you nearly insane as the small thatch of hair above his cock rubs against your clit deliciously. Your arms shoot out, wrapping around his neck tightly and dragging him down to you, needing something to hold onto as your walls clench down hard on his length, every thrust into you making you see stars. 

His hands drop from your knees, arms locking around your neck in turn, pulling you up to him. Your legs lock tightly around his waist, the two of you as pressed together as you can get, your breasts pressed tightly against his chest. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers hoarsely as his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your face back just enough to meet your eyes, “So pretty, so good.” He chokes out, eyes frantically darting between the two of yours, chest heaving as he pants. 

You mewl harshly as his thrusts speed up even more, eyes nearly crossing as the head of his cock pounds perfectly against each sensitive spot inside you at the same time his abdomen grinds against your sensitive, swollen clit. You claw desperately at his back as you feel your walls clench and pulse around his length, well aware you won’t be able to hold on much longer but unable to warn him. 

Fortunately for you, Michael has committed your tells to memory, even in the few short weeks the two of you have been intimate. “Come,” he commands harshly, gasping out the word just as you feel his length beginning to twitch inside you, “Fuck, come love, come.” 

You nod your head wildly, rutting your hips against his as you shiver, your walls growing ever tighter on his length as you hang helplessly over the edge of your high. 

“I fucking love you,” he grunts suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face in your neck, mouthing uncontrollably at your neck as he keeps mumbling, “I love you, I love you, I love you so—shit, so fucking much! Fucking come, babygirl, come!” 

Your head spins at his confession, heart hammering wildly in your chest as your high slams into you. You seize under him, shaking and crying as you pulse around his length, tears leaking into your hairline while you moan loudly, hips rutting wildly against him as you pull him somehow closer with your legs around his waist. 

In the back of your mind, you hear him grunting harshly into your ear, squeezing the life out of you while he trembles, thrusting harshly into you one, two, three more times before stilling, hard cock pulsing wildly as he empties into you, flooding your walls with his warm spend. 

Both of you pant harshly, a shiny sheen of sweat covering you. After a moment, you finally relax and your legs slip from around his waist, flopping lazily onto his bed. 

You let out a breathy laugh as you look over him, his head still resting against your chest. His blond hair is messy, sticking up in all sorts of ways from where you’d run your fingers through it. Slowly, he relaxes against you too, slumping against you as he sighs tiredly, eventually matching your own spent laugh. Yours eyes slip closed after a moment and you let out a relaxed hum when you feel him tracing shapes onto your shoulder. 

“I love you too.” 

You giggle when his head instantly shoots up, tired eyes immediately meeting yours as he squints, “Y-You do?” The shock on his face is clear and he blushes so heavily the pink color extends all the way to the tops of his ears. 

“For someone so smart you can be really dense,” you laugh, grinning as he sheepishly smiles at you, “How could I not?”

“Say it again,” he asks softly, a clear need in his eyes, “Please.” 

“I love you, Michael Gavey.” You murmur, pushing a strand of hair off of his forehead. 

He preens momentarily, shoulders seeming to square off with a newfound confidence before a familiar smirk lights upon his face. “No need to be so formal about it, love,” he quips, slowly pulling his softening length from your soaked core, shushing you sweetly as he does, “Daddy will do just fine.” 

You roll your eyes with a laugh, playfully smacking his shoulder. “I’m trying to be sweet and you’re being an ass as usual!” 

He snickers softly, biting his lip with a groan when he leans back to watch his cum slowly leak from you. “Well, lucky I’m your ass.” He smirks, laying beside you as he rests his head on his pillow. 

“Oh, so you’re mine now?” You ask blithely, skimming a finger down one of his long arms. 

“Mhm,” he hums, surprising you by lifting one of your thighs; you whine when his fingers connect with your center once again, gingerly gathering his cum leaking from you before pressing it back in slowly, working it into you with a smirk, “And you’re all mine, gotta make sure to claim you properly.” 

You shudder at his words, biting your lip as you feel a familiar fog invading your mind once again. You don’t bother protesting, not even attempting to make a quick quip as you lean in and kiss him softly. A hot hand against your cheek makes you pull back, smirking when your eyes finally focus on his fingers, still shining with your combined juices. 

“Jesus,” he breathes as he watches you take his fingers into your mouth, your own hands holding him steady at his forearm as you greedily suck at his fingers, “I fucking love you.” 

“I love you too,” you giggle, finally pulling off his fingers with a soft pop, letting his hand rest against your waist as the two of you lie contently together on his bed, facing each other. 

You see his eyelids begin to droop tiredly, a small sigh leaving his lips as he relaxes, “You know, you do have to actually help me study later.” You point out, laughing as he groans sleepily. 

“Only if it ends with you on my cock.” He mumbles, pulling him closer to you as his breathing begins to even out. 

“Like it hasn’t ended that way every time before?” You jokingly question as you let your eyes trace over his features, taking in his strong nose and jaw, smiling at the way his lips are still quirked up at the edges. Eventually, your eyes begin to droop too and you snuggle into him, breathing in his familiar scent as you drift off, something woodsy yet bookish, mixed with something that’s entirely Michael.

Your Michael.

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