#and I was like pLEASE CAN I TAKE THESE when I moved out

[mihanisms]

buried to the hilt

— caleb finds he cums embarrassingly quickly when he sees how he looks in you.

— (slight) size kink, inexperienced caleb & reader, pathetic dirty talk, pathetic pervert caleb!!!!!!!! pathetic pervert reader!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! kiiinda fluffy at the end? a bit angsty-feely too?? as fluffy-feely as my freaktivities can be???

The first time Caleb sees your tummy bulge full of him, he stills. The nights he'd spent jerking off to the thought of you (with your panties pressed against his nose) pale in comparison to the real thing — his cock, lodged into your pussy, the outline of his tip just barely peeking through your skin. He can't take his eyes off it, transfixed by both the feel and look of you around him.

He stares for so long that you begin to feel impatient, whining softly and grinding your hips down. "Caleb..." Yet even that small movement from you has the bulge in your stomach shifting slightly, a choked moan leaving his lips at the sight. Though lost in the heat of the moment, the neediness in your tone does not escape him and he shakes himself out of his trance, his hand trailing up from your thigh to press on your stomach. "...Yeah, pips?"

When you glance down, you finally realize just why he was in such a daze. the tip of his cock barely visible beneath your skin drawing a surprised whimper from you. Your eyes flick between your best friend and the impression of him in you, the sigh utterly intoxicating. "Ca-Caleb...he's peeking out at me..."

That's all it takes for Caleb's honeyed tone to go darker, a raspy growl now evident in his tone. "Mhm. That's...me right there, pips." He thrusts shallowly at first, eyes flicking down, watching with fascination as his cock shifts beneath your skin, a  whimper catching in his throat at the sight. “Fuck, baby look that’s me- fuck- baby, I ah-!"

He loses himself in the warmth as his body presses against yours. Slowly, he begins to move, his rhythm building with each thrust. And he tries — he really tries to hold on.

But the sight of his cock pushing up against the soft skin of your belly has Caleb's mind unraveling like a cat clawing at a ball of yarn. Every slow thrust, every squeeze of your walls around him, makes the bulge in you shift. It's a visible, undeniable reminder that he’s buried so deep inside you there’s nowhere else for him to go.

His breath is ragged, each roll of his hips getting sloppier as the heat in his body quickly overwhelms him. His forehead stays pressed to yours, eyes half-lidded, glassy, and completely lost in you.

“Baby, I- You feel so fucking good.” His voice cracks into moans, wrecked and desperate, his fingers twitching against your waist as he fights to hold on.

Fuck, he's close. Too close. He's supposed to be in control. Supposed to pace himself. But the way your warmth engulfs him, how your tight little hole pulses and pulls him deeper, shatters any semblance of restraint.

You feel it too. The way he trembles above you, his body taut like a fraying wire. Every shaky exhale, every hitched breath, every needy little sound that slips past his lips, they all tell you how he’s on the edge. The knowledge that he's losing himself, falling apart because of you, sends heat flooding through your body.

Involuntarily, you clench around him, and his reaction is instant. A strangled, breathy “oh fuck-” chokes past him as his hips stutter against yours. You roll your hips in response, and Caleb fucking gasps for air at the sight of the bulge shifting beneath your skin, his grip on you tightening as if you were the only thing tethering him to reality.

The two of you were in the same sinking boat, breaths and moans mingling as the aching need for release quickly overtakes the both of you, the harsh thrusts and helpless moans spilling from Caleb's lips tightening that coil in your stomach. "Pl-Please Caleb-"

The strained breathlessness in your voice has him crumbling, his rhythm getting sloppier as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, voice thick with something fragile. "I know, baby, I know- Fuck, just-" His words get cut off you pulsate around him, the tight heat of you making his mind short-circuit. "S-So close- just give it to me, please please please-"

His hands move on instinct, an overwhelming ache leading one to over your stomach to press down and feel himself inside you. The moment the pressure registers on his cock, his mind blanks and so does he—wave after wave of cum pulsing into you as he shakes and whines, hips desperately meeting yours as he chases his high.

The shocks of his orgasm run through him, his mind blank and overwhelmed, nothing left but the feeling of you wrapped around him, milking him through his high. His lashes flutter, breath hitching as he shivers, everything is too hot, too good, too much.

The feeling of his hips stilling against yours and his cum flowing into you has your stomach tightening, the pleasure cresting fast, and then you're gone. Ecstasy slams into you with a force that has you crying out, your body going rigid as you spasm around him.

You're both left trembling, wide-eyed and flushed and locked onto each other's gazes as you process what just happened. Caleb then slumps against you, your bodies spent and trembling, his voice soft as he nuzzles back into your neck. "....Fuck. 'M sorry, baby."

His cock stays nestled deep, twitching with oversensitivity, trapped in you. He’s panting into your skin, and you reach out to push away the hair that had fallen into his face. "Don't be," you murmur softly, feeling your cheeks heat up at the sudden after-intimacy of the moment.

Caleb's voice was quiet, a layer of insecurity lying below the surface. "I didn't expect- I barely lasted-"

You soothe him with a soft hush, running your fingers through his hair and cupping the base of his neck. "That doesn't matter, baby. It was still perfect. You were perfect." You press a soft, lingering kiss to his temple, noticing how he's still slightly stiff and you run your hands down his spine, tracing slow, reassuring patterns on his back.

He shivers at the contact, looking up at you like a puppy seeking reassurance. Before he could say anything else, you tighten your grip, squeezing at his skin and pulling him closer. “You made me feel incredible. It doesn’t have to be some long, drawn-out thing. You know we’re both….new to this.”

“But I….” He huffs slightly, finally relaxing into your touch and letting it ground him. “You…You mean that, pipsqueak?” 

You smile, gently nudging your nose against his head. “‘Course I do. Besides, if you liked seeing me that full ‘f you, means we’ll have to go again.” Leaning in even closer, your warm breath ghosts over his ear. “You know you’re still hard in me, right?”

Caleb groans softly, shifting on top of you, his cock twitching against the walls of your cunt. His lips graze your skin, his breath hot and uneven. "Do you think- Do you think you can take another round?"

You adjust yourself slightly, just enough to tease him deeper into you. "I can take whatever you want to give me, you know that.”

“You horrible tease.” Despite his words, Caleb breaks out into a light snicker, fighting back the groan and the desire re-capturing his gut to have a few more moments of this sweetness. He finally pulls himself out of your neck, looking at you with that lovesick, dazed expression that’s always made your heart skip.

This was going to be a long night.

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 39 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley would never forgive himself if you got hurt. It feels like he's been biding his time for ages, and his patience has worn thin. When Maverick returns to base, things finally start to change, but in whose favor?

Warnings: Angst, adult language, DILF Roo, pregnancy, smut, lactation kink

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

You settled on the couch with the new ultrasound photos from our appointment on Monday, eager to show them to your parents. But Bradley had other ideas.

"Roo," you hissed, pulling his hand away from your chest while you looked at your reflection on the iPad screen. "Knock it off."

"I'm horny," he whispered against your neck. You could hear the whine in his voice. He'd been very understanding when you told him that you needed to work late the past few days to help Cat, especially after you explained that she was bogged down with extra work because of Indigo. But now he was pouting on the couch with his other hand slipping into the back of your leggings while the call to your parents connected.

Your mom's voice rang out as Bradley grabbed your butt. "Hi!"

"Hi, Mom!" you replied, voice entirely too peppy as you tried to scoot away from your husband. You shot him a glare as he smirked and finally folded his hands in his lap. "How's packing going?"

"Oh, it's so stressful," she complained, going into a rant about all of the bins of things she'd been saving since you were a kid. You let her ramble, knowing she was secretly excited to be able to let Rose and the second baby play with your old toys someday after they moved to Coronado. Bradley and your dad sat quietly until your mom took a deep breath and asked, "What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

Now you felt like pouting. They would be moved into their new house in time for Christmas but not Thanksgiving. "Probably making dinner for our friends. Just hanging out with everyone here," you told her with a shrug.

"No."

You turned to look at Bradley who was shaking his head. 

"What do you mean no?" you asked. "Are you going to cook Thanksgiving dinner for everyone? Your kitchen skills are much improved, Roo, but that seems a bit ambitious."

Bradley snorted and leaned in to kiss your cheek. "You're not cooking. I'm not cooking. We won't even be here, Baby Girl," he whispered. Then he turned to face the iPad. "I'm taking my girls away for an anniversary trip. We'll be gone that weekend."

Your mom looked like she was going to swoon. "Really?" you asked, letting his hand creep up your thigh toward your belly. "We're going away?"

Bradley's eyes held innocence as he grinned. "Yeah. Don't you remember when I asked you just the other day if you'd prefer the mountains or the lake?"

"Oh," you whispered. You did remember. He had been fingering you at the time, your pussy slick and full of his cum. When your cheeks grew warm, you realized you did not want to have the rest of this conversation with your parents listening in. "Yes, I do recall that, actually." You cleared your throat. "We should let you go. It's late."

"But we didn't get to talk to Rose!" your dad complained.

"She's still taking her after-dinner nap," you told him apologetically. "Maybe tomorrow! Love you!"

When you ended the call, Bradley was already tugging on your shirt. "Please," he murmured. "I'm so horny. I'll do anything you want. On the couch, in bed, in the shower, anything you want, Sweetheart."

"I want you to tell me where we're going, Roo," you replied sweetly as he pulled your shirt over your head and palmed your breasts through your sports bra. It was a wonder he could get hard right now after he'd seen you wearing your maternity tent less than an hour ago.

"Mountains," he grunted, pulling you closer.

You knew he was planning something, but you didn't know it was already worked out. "I'm impressed," you told him as you carefully removed your bra. "You did this all by yourself?"

"Nothing's too good for my girls." His voice was raspy, already fading into the silent room as he eased you onto his lap. You fed Rose not terribly long ago. You were tired. Your breasts weren't very perky at the moment. But Bradley moaned as soon as his lips met your nipple. His cock was hard against your thigh as you settled in.

With his big hand splayed along the side of your growing bump, you let him get his fill of rubbing his nose and mustache all over your chest. Your back arched as he started grinding his hips up to yours.

"Does this mean we can get nasty on the couch?" he whispered, flashing his brown eyes up to yours. When you giggled, he added, "It's been days." Part of you wanted to tell him that your back hurt and you couldn't handle getting twisted into a pretzel right now, but you slid down to the floor between his legs, his eyes tracking your every move. "What are you doing?" he mumbled, a little grin finding his lips as you tugged on the waistband of his gym shorts.

"Stop acting like you don't know I'm about to suck your dick," you whispered, trying not to laugh as his cock bobbed out from his underwear.

A soft sound at the back of his throat spurred you on. He simultaneously scooted his hips closer to you while he settled back against the couch. "I didn't want to assume," he murmured, eyes wide as you took him between your parted lips. "Fuck. I'm so spoiled."

You hummed your response around his cock which had his head tipping back as he reached for your face. Big, calloused fingers brushed along your cheek before trailing to the back of your head. You controlled the pace, but that bit of pressure from his excited hand made you suck a little harder just to hear his appreciation.

Long, languid strokes had Bradley's restraint slipping. After he tapped the back of your throat his hips rose incrementally from the couch. When your tongue circled his tip, his hips were up again. He was eager to cum, so you slowed your pace.

"Jesus," he whimpered, balls tightening as you sucked on them. You could feel your saliva drip down his cock to your face as you ran your tongue in circles. "Keep this up, and you'll never not be pregnant, Sweetheart."

Before you could react, Bradley was pulling you to your feet, careful not to be too rough. He yanked your leggings down and guided you back to his lap.

He was big and thick, but your body welcomed him as he filled your pussy. "You're getting a vasectomy after this one, Roo."

He gasped, whether from your words or from the way your pussy was already squeezing around him with need, you weren't sure. You wanted to reiterate that two kids was plenty for you and he to handle, but his palm met your butt, guiding you in a slow roll that erased all thoughts from your brain.

"We'll talk about that later," he crooned, kissing your lips softly. "Right now, I want you to think about how bad you need me." You moaned in spite of yourself at his cocky words. "I want you to think about how good Daddy takes care of his girls."

"Oh, god," you whimpered, bouncing on his cock. "You do. You do," you babbled. One swipe of his finger along your clit, and you were seeing stars. Hadn't he been the one begging for this? How did you become the needy one right now? "Fuck!"

You were panting as he guided you along, taking you for everything you had until your face was buried against his neck to quiet yourself as you came. He knew what to do, and he was too good at it, pinching and plucking your clit until your hips rolled to a stop as your pussy squeezed him gently.

When you opened your eyes, you were still dizzy as Bradley held you. Your pussy was slick with his cum, both of you spent as his hand settled on the side of your belly.

"We'll circle back to that vasectomy conversation later," he whispered as you laughed softly with his cock still inside you. "Right now, I don't want you to move an inch."

"That's convenient," you mumbled, "because I think my bones are jello." You snuggled in closer, eyelids heavy, but Bradley's body jerked beneath you.

"Holy shit," he gasped, sitting more upright as you grabbed his shoulders.

"What's wrong?"

"I can feel her," he whispered, his hand trailing along your belly, pressing firmly. "I can feel our daughter moving."

You were so used to her almost-constant squirming, it took you a beat to realize that she was turning somersaults below your ribcage, but she was moving a lot. Bradley's gaze met yours, and a beaming smile filled his face as he adjusted his hand an inch higher.

"She's moving a lot, Roo. I think she likes your voice."

Tears glittered in your husband's eyes, and you kissed his cheeks. It felt so good to be back on solid ground in your relationship. Perhaps you never had anything to worry about, but moments like this one were priceless to you.

"I love you so much," Bradley promised, his lips finding yours, kissing you through his words. "I love my girls. This is the best fucking day."

When Rose started crying to eat again, you finally crawled from your husband's lap. But he followed you into the nursery, claiming, "I want to be close to the three of you." He barely left your side for the rest of the night.

-----------------------------

Bradley was still stressed out about Indigo. He didn't really think about her when he was at home, but when he got to work and saw her lurking about, his anxiety seemed to spike. Today, she was outside his classroom when the others filed in for his lecture. He wondered how much longer the little scheme you and Cat worked up could possibly keep her on the ground. He still didn't have all the details, not that he wanted them, but he knew better. She would be back in the air by the end of the year. And he hadn't heard a word about his complaints against her.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," Indigo sang, setting Bradley's teeth on edge. He had to take deep breaths and remind himself that he couldn't rage at her. When he thought about how he spent last night feeling the baby kicking, he calmed down.

"Lieutenant Jeffries. I trust you haven't forgotten you're not permitted in my classroom?"

Her smirk was obnoxious. "Of course not, Sir. I was just simply stopping by to inform you that your superior is back." Her smirk turned into a bright, joyful smile. "And I'm going to stop by his office."

Maverick was back from Lemoore. Mav was back, and somehow Indigo knew about it before he did. While that rubbed him the wrong way, Bradley thought perhaps things could move along faster now. Maybe there was a way out of this whole mess. He wanted his life to go back to normal again. He needed it.

"Enjoy your morning, Lieutenant Jeffries. Don't forget to stay out of the aviators' lounge."

Bradley closed the door softly instead of slamming it, and then he got his notes out. The other students were eager to hear what he had planned. Even Spice seemed to have distanced herself from Indigo which was interesting; perhaps she valued her career more than a toxic friend. Bradley wrote some notes on the board and got to work. 

What was supposed to be a two hour long discussion with the group was cut short halfway through. When he walked around the classroom, pausing to answer a question, Bradley's gaze was drawn toward the window. He saw you outside in the sunlight near the hangar. It was impossible to miss you in your maternity uniform, not that he would ever tell you that, but even the curve of your cheek was unmistakable to him.

God, you were fucking perfect. His heart skipped around in his chest as he watched you turn back toward your office, and he crept closer to the window for a better look. He couldn't wait until lunchtime so he could sit with you.

Then his back went ramrod straight, and Bradley froze. Indigo walked past you, checking your shoulder with hers. "What the fuck?" Bradley snarled under his breath. Indigo kept walking like she hadn't just intentionally run into you. You. A pregnant woman. Bradley's pregnant wife. "You're all dismissed," he barked, heading for the classroom door as quickly as he could walk. Once he was in the hallway, he was running for the exit in the atrium.

The sunlight was blinding, but he saw you immediately. When he called your name, you turned to him and smiled. Indigo was nowhere in sight now as he ran to get to you. 

"Are you okay?" he demanded, touching your shoulder before letting his hand settle on your belly.

"Yeah, I just had to take something to Cat. Why are you out of breath?" you asked, kissing his cheek softly before he wrapped you up in a hug. "What's going on, Bradley?"

He kissed along your forehead and said, "I saw Indigo plow into you through the window. She did it intentionally."

"Oh. Yeah. She does that all the time. I wish she'd just hit me in the face already, because I'm not about to retaliate."

Bradley held you at arm's length, eyes wide. "Don't say that! I don't want her laying a finger on you!"

You took a deep breath and sighed. "You know none of this would be a problem if you weren't so sexy, right?" Bradley's cheeks felt warm as you tucked yourself against him again. "I need to get back to my lab, but I'll see you at lunch. We can start discussing baby names."

As you strolled away, Bradley once again felt terrible that you were in this mess with him.

----------------------------

You didn't want Bradley worrying any more than he always was, but Indigo did hit your shoulder pretty hard this time. You were still rubbing it when you walked into your building and headed for the elevators. 

It felt like you were trapped in some realm filled with optical illusions; somehow Indigo was standing in front of the elevator buttons. How she got inside so quickly was beyond you.

"Excuse me," you told her, trying to reach for the up arrow with your chin held high, but she didn't move. "You're in my way."

"How does it feel knowing your husband fucked me in his office?" she whispered. Your hand stilled in the air as you met her horrible, blue eyes. "How does it feel knowing I can have him whenever I want? Every Monday after his office hours. This past Monday was something else. Would you like some details?"

It made you physically sick that she thought she had some sort of grasp on you and Bradley. It would be nice to hit her in the face instead of the other way around. But you knew she was lying. She was grasping at straws. Bradley had skipped his office hours on Monday in favor of joining you for your appointment with Dr. Morris just like he always did. The woman in front of you was beyond ridiculous.

"Do you want to know the details?" she demanded. "Answer me."

"I don't answer to you!" Your voice had her taking a step back until she hit the wall between the elevator doors. "I outrank you in every way."

"You can't do this to me," she hissed. "You think you're an admiral on a power trip or something, but you can't ground me indefinitely, Lieutenant Commander."

Just as your lips parted, ready to put her in her place, you heard boots squeak in the polished floor to your left. You glanced that way to see the confident stride of Bradley's godfather as Maverick yanked his aviators off. His gaze was like steel as he stopped at your side.

"Maybe she doesn't quite have the power to ground you indefinitely, but I certainly do, Lieutenant Jeffries."

"Sir," she complained with a pout, "you don't understand what she's trying to do to me. She grounded me and my Super Hornet, Captain Mitchell. She's trying to ruin my career for no good reason. Her commanding officer should be informed that she's manipulating things the way she wants them when I've done nothing wrong."

You were seeing red. She was the one who started this whole thing, not you. And she was the one who kept trying to goad you on because she didn't get what she wanted. And now she was trying to make you look bad in front of Mav. You couldn't tell if you were about to laugh or cry.

"Enough," Mav barked. "I don't want to hear another word. One conversation with her commanding officer, and you'll be eating your words, Lieutenant Jeffries. And do you honestly think anything happens to one of the Super Hornets in the Pacific fleet without me knowing about it?"

Instead of a verbal response, Indigo blushed bright pink and shook her head slowly.

Maverick cleared his throat and lowered his volume a bit. "Someone in your position should be keeping a low profile, but you can't seem to help yourself."

"Someone in my position?" she asked, her gaze flickering your way briefly.

Shaking his head, Maverick said, "I've never seen a harassment case against a subordinate open and close so quickly."

"What?" Indigo squeaked, fingers curling into fists at her sides.

"It seems you have a history of behaving poorly around your male superiors," Maverick added. "I was going to let you save face and have this conversation in my office this afternoon, but it's a little too late for that. Maybe things worked in your favor in the past. You seem the type who got used to getting their own way. But that kind of behavior doesn't belong at Top Gun. And you were barking up the wrong tree with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw from the beginning. Not only is he happily married, his wife has more friends and allies on base than you'll ever know about. Pack your locker and meet me in my office. You're going back to Texas today."

"Texas!" Indigo wailed. "I'm too good for that program."

Maverick reached around her for the elevator button. "I wouldn't worry about that. You're about to learn that the Navy is too good for you. Now get out of my sight."

It felt like everything shifted as you watched Indigo storm away. Her shoulders slumped, and she seemed to fold in on herself. It was a far cry from her usual behavior as Maverick guided you into the elevator with him when the doors opened.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, tipping your chin up so you met his eyes. "I really didn't mean for you to hear all of that."

"I'm okay," you whispered before wrapping your arms around him as tears leaked from your eyes. "Thanks for looking out for Bradley and me."

He kissed your forehead as you cried. "You're family. I'll always do what I can." When the doors slid open, you realized you were on your floor. Maverick wrapped his arms around your shoulders, guiding you along to your office. Your fingers were shaking as you unlocked the door. "I'll text Bradley and see if he can stop by," he said, following you inside where you sank into your desk chair with your hands on your belly.

"Is she out?" you whispered, completely exhausted as you took deep breaths. "Is Indigo out of the Navy?"

Maverick sighed and tucked his phone away again. "That's up to the admirals in Texas, but if I had to wager a guess... probably."

It seemed wild to you that she would risk it all for something as trivial as a hookup, but then again, Bradley always was irresistible to you. At one point, you were willing to risk everything you'd worked toward since your years at the Naval Academy to be with him. You'd even announced to the entire control room on an aircraft carrier that he was the man for you. But he was yours. He was Rose's. He was the baby's. Indigo wasn't going to get away with even testing the waters.

You weren't sure how long you'd been sitting there reflecting on things with Mav perched on the edge of your desk, but it must have been several minutes. When you heard heavy footfalls in the hallway, you looked at your open doorway as your husband came rushing inside.

"Are you okay?" he asked, panting and sweaty. He barely looked at Maverick before dropping to his knees next to your chair. "Did she hurt you?"

"Jeez, Mav," you murmured as the other man headed for the door. "What did you tell him?" you asked, referring to the text he'd sent to Bradley. 

"I told him you needed him," Maverick replied with a chuckle before closing the door on his way out.

"I swear to God," Bradley growled, focused on your face. "If she hurt you-"

"She didn't," you promised, cupping his cheek. "I promise we're just fine."

He was still everything you wanted. Almost two years married, and Bradley was worth every bit of this trouble. His lips found your belly through your ugly tent, kissing along until his cheek came to rest there. "That's good," he rasped as your fingers combed through his hair. "Hopefully they'll take my complaints against her seriously. I can barely stand coming to work knowing she's giving you a hard time."

"She's out, Bradley." He flashed his brown eyes up to your face. "Maverick is sending her back to Texas where they'll decide what happens to her."

He gave you a satisfied groan as he nuzzled your belly, kissing you a million times. Then his head came to rest in your lap, and you could feel the tension slowly release from his body for the first time in months as you held onto him.

"Just let me stay here with you for a while. Okay, Baby Girl?"

--------------------------

Have fun in Texas, Indigo! Nobody is going to miss you. I feel like BG should get to keep her Super Hornet out of principle. BUT, the most important part of the chapter is the fact that Bradley got to feel the baby! ALSO, next chapter may be the last one in this series.

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[kathaelipwse]

You Can Take It, Right? | S.Mingi

MDNI 18+

Song recs: Friends by Chase Atlantic | Take you down by Chris Brown | Say my name by ateez | Red lights by Skz |

Warnings: Heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, mutual pining, teasing, best-friends-to-lovers energy, Mingi being a menace, mild language, hot & messy make-out session.

Trope: Best Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Friends Who Flirt Too Much, Slow Burn with a Payoff

WC: 781 words

Synopsis:

What starts as harmless teasing turns into something far more dangerous when Mingi decides he’s done playing around. Trapped between him and the couch, you’re forced to answer the question—will you push him away or pull him closer?

Author’s Note:

I had way too much fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy Mingi being an absolute menace with that dirty mouth of his. The tension? Thick. The teasing? Dangerous. And that payoff? Worth the wait. LMK if you want a part two! 😉

You should’ve known better than to challenge Song Mingi.

It started off the way it always did—banter, teasing, stolen glances that lasted too long to be friendly. You were used to pushing each other’s buttons, toeing the line but never quite stepping over it. Until tonight.

It was just the two of you, sprawled out on his couch after a movie, the soft glow of the screen flickering over his face. The teasing had started when he caught you staring.

"Like what you see?" he’d smirked, stretching his arms over his head, his hoodie riding up just enough to show a glimpse of his toned stomach.

You rolled your eyes, trying to act unaffected. "Please. You’re all talk."

That was the mistake.

Because the second those words left your mouth, Mingi shifted—his lazy smirk sharpening into something darker, something unreadable.

"All talk, huh?" His voice was lower now, dipping into that deep, husky register that made your stomach tighten.

Before you could react, he moved—one arm bracing against the back of the couch, the other pressing into the cushion beside your hip, caging you in effortlessly.

The air changed.

Mingi wasn’t smiling anymore. His eyes dragged over your face, slow and deliberate, lingering on the way your lips parted, your breath suddenly uneven.

"You can take it, right?" he murmured, and fuck. The way he said it—like a challenge, like a promise—sent a shiver straight through you.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. "Mingi—"

He hummed, dipping his head until his lips hovered just above your ear. His breath was warm against your skin, his voice a deep rasp that made your stomach flip.

"Look at you," he mused. "All quiet now. Wasn’t so cocky a second ago."

You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to squirm. "Shut up."

Mingi chuckled, the sound low and smug. "Make me."

Your breath caught.

He was still so close, his body heat sinking into you, his scent—clean, warm, Mingi—wrapping around you like a trap. But it wasn’t just his presence. It was his voice—the way he was dragging this out, letting his words settle over your skin, heavy and thick.

"If I touched you right now," he murmured, his lips just barely grazing your jaw, "would you push me away… or pull me closer?"

You should’ve pushed him away.

You should’ve.

But instead, your fingers twitched, itching to grab the front of his hoodie and pull. And Mingi saw. His smirk widened, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he let out a low chuckle.

"That’s what I thought."

Your patience snapped.

With one sharp tug, you fisted his hoodie and yanked him down.

Mingi barely had time to react before your lips crashed into his. And for a second, he froze—like he hadn’t actually expected you to cross the line first. But then he moved.

A groan rumbled from his chest as he kissed you back, deep and hungry, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. The shift sent you sprawling back onto the couch, Mingi following without hesitation, pressing you into the cushions as his weight settled over you.

His mouth was hot, his lips parting just enough for his tongue to brush against yours, slow and teasing. His fingers dug into your hips, keeping you pinned beneath him, his body pressing into yours like he needed to be closer.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, breathless. "You taste better than I imagined."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. "You imagined this?"

Mingi grinned against your mouth, his teeth grazing your lower lip before sucking it between his teeth, biting down just enough to make your breath hitch. "Baby, you have no idea."

The way he said it—low, rough, possessive—sent a full-body shiver through you.

And then he was everywhere. His lips trailed along your jaw, down the column of your neck, each kiss punctuated by a hushed whisper, a dirty little confession. "Been thinking about this for so long." A slow, open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone. "The way you look at me? Drives me insane." His teeth scraped against your skin, making your fingers tighten in his hair.

"Mingi—"

He groaned, his hands tightening around your hips as he rocked against you, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale. "Say my name like that again, and I swear I won’t stop at just kissing you."

Heat flooded through you.

But before you could respond, his phone buzzed on the coffee table.

The sudden noise snapped you both back to reality, your heaving breaths the only sound filling the room. Mingi didn’t move right away—his forehead still resting against yours, his fingers still gripping your hips like he was this close to saying screw it and going all the way.

You let out a shaky laugh. "Guess we got a little carried away."

Mingi groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. "Worst timing ever."

You nudged him playfully. "You gonna check that?"

"Absolutely not."

You giggled, finally pushing at his chest until he let you sit up. But when you looked at him, his dark, hooded eyes were still locked on you, his lips kiss-swollen, his breathing uneven.

"This isn’t over," he murmured, tilting your chin up with his fingers.

You swallowed hard. "No?"

His smirk returned, slow and dangerous. "Oh, baby… I’ve barely even started."

---

[sanjisluvbot]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Take Me Home

⋆.˚ PAIRING: Mark Grayson Variants/Reader

⋆.˚ SYNOPSIS: The chaos of the past few days has been indescribable. The world, shaken to its core, is now in a state of panic. The Invincible variants—once a symbol of hope, now ominous harbingers of a twisted fate—have revealed their plan to the world. They’ve openly declared that Y/n L/n, the one person who could tip the scales, is the reason for the madness that’s consuming reality itself.

⋆.˚ NOTES: Posting this while editing CH 3 of Intuition. If you'd like a full fic please let me know and you can expect it within a week!! I might change some things, but this is my current base!! ENJOY ♡

The world had gotten used to the impossible happening. After Omni-man revealed himself to be a mass murdering villain among all types of creatures and monsters roaming the earth, humanity became jaded. The screams and destruction woke you bright and early that day, maniacal laughter eerily familiar to your ex-boyfriend brought you to the window. 

There was not one, not two, but multiple people destroying the planet under the name of ‘Invincible’. You and your family made it safely to the bunkers with the rest of the scared, tired, and confused. The government allowed everyone to see with their own eyes the destruction of everything humanity worked for millions of years to be easily destroyed in less than twenty-four hours. 

“ Oh god… Mark,” you whisper to yourself. 

Although the world was shaken to its core, even now in a state of panic and fear there were still some bold enough. News reporters going as far as to film on top of buildings that still stood tall to get a closer look at the multiple Invincibles. However, being bold means potentially getting unwanted attention. The camera focused on one of the invaders destroying a prison when he finally caught eye with someone he has yet to tear in half. 

A devious smirk and in a split second the camera fell, gasps surrounded the room as people gathered around the tv screen. The screen was no longer in focus and you could only make out feet and the background of fire and rubble. You could hear the poor man losing his life, gurgling on his own blood while the bastard laughed. Once the gurgling stopped and the blood painted the camera lens crimson the body was tossed aside. 

The camera was picked up, you could only make out his smile before he wiped the lens with his finger smudging the blood to the left. “ oooh Y/n, where are you hiding— Get outta here!” 

The screen went black and everyone around you began to scramble. You were stuck in place. That was Mark, not your Mark but a Mark with his hair shaved into a mohawk and bags under his eyes that made him look like a complete psychopath. There were many questions but the one simple one that made your heart race. 

Why.

Why was he searching for you. 

You and Mark had made the difficult decision to break up almost a year ago, and the two of you moved on. Thinking about your past while trembling in this present as everyone began to whisper about what they’d just seen. Eyes turned to you, was there a possibility they were talking about Y/n L/n who was hiding out with them. Your parents quickly shut the rumors down, but the people began to avoid you until they couldn’t anymore. 

“ You have no proof! Other than the fact that the maniac on the screen was talking about someone with the same name! You can’t just harass my daughter!” Your poor sweet mother yelled. 

The crowd surrounded you and your family, you felt sympathy and regret they were simply scared. However, as your mother said, they can’t just harass you and your family when all they had was a name without a face. 

The madness continued, the chaos turned people against anyone with the name Y/n across the globe. The GDA not only had to deal with the death, the destruction of humanity, and multiple versions of one of the strongest men in the universe, but they needed to find Y/n. They were able to gain control of the media being broadcasted, all of the Mark’s were searching for the same person, letting you know that the longer you hide the worse it would get. 

Cecil sighed to himself. Half of his hero’s dead or in critical conditions all because of one person. He felt bad for Mark, but this just furthered his desire to have a weapon strong enough to deal with the kid if need be. When Mark arrived battered up having fought himself for hours on end Cecil asked him who Y/n was, just to see if he’d lie. 

“ Y/n… is my ex girlfriend. I don’t know where she is–”

“ Don’t worry about it, we found her already.”

“ What? Where is she– is she okay?”

“ She’s fine Mark, and so is her family, why don’t you go check on Eve.”

Mark felt relieved that you hadn’t been found by his counterparts, he couldn’t live with himself knowing you were possibly hurt by him even if it was a different version. He quickly went to check on Eve while Cecil made a hard decision. 

When the GDA came to the compound they told everyone things would be alright soon, and picked you and your family up telling everyone that you were just going into extra protection. The people felt relief as they no longer had a target on their back.

Under the guise of providing safety you and your parents followed them. You couldn’t ease the uncertainty though, were they really trying to protect you or were they protecting the innocents without the name Y/n? The pentagon was intimidating, a lump in your throat formed with the seriousness of your situation beginning to dwell on you. You grabbed onto your mother’s hand and she squeezed, providing you the comfort she always did. 

Now that you were far from the eyes of the public you were forcefully separated from our parents. Tears forming in your eyes as you’re pushed into a sterile white room. Cecil sat in front of you motioning you to sit and as you did armed officers appeared from thin air. Large rapid fire guns pointed directly at your chest and head. The silence of the room is suffocating, and it’s as though time itself is holding its breath. 

You were hyperventilating in full hysterics, Cecil could do little to comfort you. His face is tight, full of regret, but his voice is steady. "Y/n," he begins, his words laced with an apology that he can’t fully express, "I’m sorry it had to come to this. But you have to understand, this is about earth’s survival. Think of the billions of people who have been murdered over the last two days. If you’re handed over to them, they’ll stop the destruction. It’s the only way to save what we have left."

“ How can you be so sure? How can you be so sure that they won’t just rip me in half and leave this planet disintegrated.” you argue.

“ Because I’ve already come to an agreement with them.”

Before you could question anything else you were blinded by a light beyond your comprehension and then everything went dark. 

The first thing you felt was the wind, running through your hair while the sun warmed your cheeks. Rough hands cradle you into a sturdy chest and you lean into the familiarity, letting out a soft sigh when you realize it was Mark. He came to save you, take you away from the GDA and away from the evil versions of him. “ Oh, Y/n you’re even cuter on this earth.”  

The chaos of the past few days has been indescribable. The world, shaken to its core, is now in a state of panic. The Mark variants—once figures of influence, now ominous harbingers of a twisted fate—have revealed their twisted plan to the world. They’ve openly declared that Y/n L/n, the one person who could tip the scales, is the reason for the madness that’s consuming reality itself. The world has descended into a frenzy of desperate attempts to find her, each moment pushing humanity further toward the edge of its own unraveling.

The government has been scrambling to restore order, but in truth, it’s been a helpless race against time. The Global Defense Agency (GDA) gets involved, but not to protect Y/n, as she first thought. No, their involvement is a calculated move. Under the guise of providing safety, they’re planning to turn Y/n over to the Mark variants to ensure the earth’s survival. The GDA has long believed that the Marks hold the key to stopping the chaos—and they’re willing to sacrifice one person to preserve the greater good.

Y/n is brought into a fortified government building, far from the eyes of the public, and led into an ominous, sterile room. She can feel the weight of every eye upon her, even though there is no one there. The silence of the room is suffocating, and it’s as though time itself is holding its breath.

Cecil, the GDA operative who had been an ally, stands before her. His face is tight, full of regret, but his voice is steady. "Y/n," he begins, his words laced with an apology that he can’t fully express, "I’m sorry it had to come to this. But you have to understand. The Marks—they hold the balance. If you’re handed over to them, they’ll stop the destruction. It’s the only way to save everything."

Y/n feels a surge of anger, betrayal, and fear in her chest. The only way to save everything? Her mind races through every possibility, every outcome, but one thing remains clear: this is no longer just about saving the world. This is about survival, about sacrificing herself to a twisted fate or becoming the puppet of beings that have already caused irreparable harm.

Cecil’s face hardens, though his eyes flicker with a sense of sadness. "You can either be the good guy, or you can save the world. But you can’t do both."

The words echo in her mind as the walls seem to close in around her. The good guy, or the world? The weight of her decision has never been heavier. She knows what has to happen. The choice is excruciating, but it’s becoming clear that there may not be another way.

Y/n's mind flashes to the alternate versions of Mark—those who have been wreaking havoc, making themselves into shadows of their former selves. They are no longer just individuals; they have become symbols of the madness that has consumed reality. But what if they could be stopped? What if there was a way to break the cycle? What if she could find a way to shut down the alternate versions of Mark without sacrificing herself or falling into their trap?

She stands tall, her eyes locked with Cecil’s. "If I go to them, there’s no guarantee they’ll stop. What if they want more than just the world? What if I’m their ultimate prize?"

Cecil hesitates, clearly torn. He can’t answer her. He doesn’t know the full truth either. All he knows is what the higher-ups in the GDA have told him—what they believe. But Y/n feels it now: the truth is slipping through their fingers, and her fate is slipping further away with every passing second.

"Tell me," she demands, her voice quivering with a mixture of fear and determination, "how many others have they done this to? How many people have sacrificed themselves to them already? How many more will there be?"

Cecil remains silent. He doesn’t have an answer for that. But he knows what she means. The Marks have already been through countless others—versions of people, lives torn apart, worlds left in ruin. Y/n feels the weight of all those lost possibilities pressing down on her.

And then, in that moment, a new resolve fills her. She can’t let this be the end of everything. She won’t let herself become another pawn in their game. There has to be another way. She can stop the alternate Marks. She has to.

With every ounce of strength she has left, she turns away from Cecil. "I won’t be the prize they want me to be. I’ll find another way. I’ll stop them."

Cecil calls out, his voice pleading, "Y/n, don’t—"

But she’s already gone, slipping into the shadows of the building. She may be alone now, but her mind is clearer than it’s ever been. It’s time to end this—her way.

The stakes are higher than ever, and the final confrontation looms, but the fate of the world lies in the hands of one person: Y/n L/n. Will she find a way to destroy the alternate Marks and save herself, or will she be forced to make the ultimate sacrifice to prevent reality from unraveling completely? The clock is ticking, and there’s no turning back now

[ggukgoldensoul]

travel

pairing; idol!jk x reader

summary; reader has wanted to go to japan since she started watching anime when she was a child… good thing her boyfriend wants to make her happy whatever it takes.

warnings; nothing!!! pure fluff, jk loves so so so so much reader he would d!e for her and k!ll for her, and reader also loves jk so much she would kll for him.

a/n; i have started one piece and my anime root has started again (it never disappeared) i dont know why i didn’t started it earlier, such a good masterpiece!!! 

laying on the couch of the living room with the chill air of the air-conditioning wrapping around her like a second skin, the 5 episode of the second season of jujutsu kaisen was playing on the tv, a tray of food next to her. she knew she told jungkook she would wait for him to come back from the agency, but the need to continue the shibuya arc was stronger than any feeling. 

the front door opened and jungkook came in, leaving behind his shoes and jacket in the wardrobe. he heard the voice of gojo coming from the tv and froze. she stopped the episode and slowly turned towards him. 

“i can explain it” her hands up, trying to protect herself. against what? she didn’t know.

“yah, we were supposed to watch it together” he said while walking to the couch and sat beside her, arms crossed and a pout on his face, clearly annoyed and a little sad. she looked at him and grabbed his arm, shaking it a bit. “jungkook-ah, look at me, please, im sorry” still shaking his arm, jungkook let escape a hmm. “pleaseeeeeee…”

he wasn't going to give in. 

 sitting on his lap, she took his face in her hands so he was looking at her. they looked into each other's eyes, her doe eyes and pout melted something in him. damn, he couldn't stay mad at her. with a sigh, he hugged her and placed his face on her chest. laughing a bit, she hugged him back. “missed you kook” “missed you too sweetheart”

“would you mind if we start it again? i really want to watch it from the start” he said, excitement filled in his voice. she nodded and was about to sit beside him but jungkook’s arm tightened around her waist, not letting her go, and she was more than happy about it. 

jungkook took the control remote and played the first episode. she snuggled into him a little more and he placed a kiss on her cheek. 

time passed, night came, they finished the entire second season and then decided to continue with one piece. 

“do you know there’s a one piece theme park in japan? i really want to go, and also the jujutsu kaizen theme park and the nintendo one too, and then visit tokyo and buy things there” sighed “maybe one day i'll go.”

he listened to her rambling and noticed the sadness in her voice. he knew her financial situation wasn’t good, sometimes she would cancel their plans not wanting him to pay for everything, but he didn’t mind that a bit. he payed for her things because he wanted to, not because he was bound to it, he really loved to pamper her with love and things he knew would make her happy. 

“oh, we have runned out of food, im going to the kitchen to take more snacks”

jungkook stopped the episode and took his phone while she was in the kitchen. her head peeked out from the kitchen door. “we have runned out of snacks, do you want to order food?”

“ok!”

half hour passed and they were both eating and watching the series, enjoying a peaceful summer night with each other. 

___________________________________

the sun was peeking through the curtains as if wanting to catch the lovers in their sleep. jungkook was the first one to wake up, admiring his lover by his side, the curve of her lip, the softness of her cheek, everything that made her being herself was something to admire. slowly, he got up and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. he was making the toasts and the coffee when he felt her arms around his waist. 

“good morning, gorgeous”

“good morning, gguk”

she sat at the kitchen island looking at her boyfriend moving around the kitchen. “anyway, why are you up this early? its barely 8 in the morning”

“we are going to travel”

“oh, travel? where?”

he placed the breakfast on the island “its a surprise”

“yah! it's this about yesterday? are you mad?”

“of course not! why would i be mad with you about that?” he placed a kiss to her forehead. “eat, we have to prepare luggage”

“okay” she said with a singsong voice

they finished their breakfast and went to prepare the luggage. 

_______________________________________________

the clock hit 11 in the morning, everything was ready, the tickets hid from her, everything was a surprise until they reached the airport. all the suitcases were at the front door, all the lights were off, the only thing left was a quick check of the things they needed for the journey.

“sneakers?”

“yes”

“coat?”

“yes”

“jungkook, we have everything, this isn’t necessary.”

“i know, but i don't want you to complain later about not having something”

she rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, even though she didn’t know where they were going to travel, she felt excited and happy about it.  

“okay! let's gooo!”

________________________

the airport was buzzing with people going and coming, airplanes landing and flying. they entered the airport when a call was made through the speakers.

“dear passengers of the airplane 06132013, with destination tokyo, japan, its going to take flight in 10 minutes”

“oh thats our flight lets go, come on”

“wait- what? jungkook wait!” she yelled at him while running behind him, trying to catch him.

“come on!”

“you're too fast! slow down!”

people looked at them while they ran to the door. they arrived sweating and panting, but they were living their best moment right now, but it wasn't until then that it hit her, they were flying to japan, they were going to tokyo, her dream since she was a child was going to come true in that moment, when their feet where on the plain and all because she had by her side the most wonderful person someone could ever met. 

“hey, dont cry bae”

she didn't even knew she was crying “its just that” a sob stopped her from talking “i really love you jungkook, im so glad to have you with me”

he took her by the waist and pressed her to his side, leaving soft and loving kisses to her face, head and neck. 

“lets go sweetheart, japan is waiting for us!”

all rights reserved to ©ggukgoldensoul. no tranlations allowed. no copy theme. don not copy my work.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Can't Have One Without the Other 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your marriage is on the rocks.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Bucky's gone when you wake up. Your heart sinks. Last night was better than the day. Still, you're not reassured. 

You shouldn't feel like this about your husband. You should be happy for him to come home. You should give him a kiss without thinking. He might have been gruff about it, but he was right. 

You drag yourself out of bed. On habit, you grab your phone. You have a message from Nat. 

'Missed you at girls' night. Coffee?' 

You leave her in read. You'll have one before you answer her. You go downstairs and put a mug in the tray. You slip a pod in and hit brew. 

The doorbell chirps, 'visitor at the door.' Great. You already know before you check the camera on the front display. 

You forget that you're in one of Bucky's shirts when you open the door. It's just Nat anyway. Yes, Nat with her svelte waist and perfect hips. 

"So, is that what you're wearing for our coffee date?" She taunts. 

"I just woke up." You turn and let her follow. She's great at inviting herself in. 

"Late night?" She purrs. 

"Got a couple hours," you mutter as you go back to a kitchen. 

"I know you're not drinking that horse piss," she says as she comes up across the arm of the counter. "I'm taking you out for a pistachio latte. Extra cream." 

"Black is fine with me," you take the mug only for it to shatter, the hot coffee splattering across Bucky's shirt. The knife lands at your feet. "Nat!" 

"It's butter knife. Relax." 

"And? You told me once you could kill a man sixteen different ways with one." 

"Oh, I can," she cackles. "Get some pants on. Let's go." 

"Ugh, Nat--" 

"Ugh, you," she hurls back. "He said you were in a mood." 

You flinch, "I am." 

"I always loved that you're a bitch," she snorts. "Get that bouncy booty moving." 

You tilt your head and give her a mean look, "look who the fuck talking, bitch." 

She laughs. You do too. She can be terrible but she's too cool for you.

"Yeah, give me a minute." 

You go to get yourself together. That coffee would have helped a whole lot. You'll manage. 

You get dressed and clean up. You come back down. The kitchen floor is clean, the broken cup cleared away. Bucky always said Nat was good at getting rid of messes. 

"Fine, let's go. I'm cutting back on the cream though." 

"Coulda fooled me," she scoffs. 

"Nat," you chide again. 

"What? I'm sure Bucky can't get enough... since you got more than plenty to give." 

"Shut up." 

"Well, if you wanna do something about it, you can always take up sparring again." 

"And get my ears boxed in by a trained assassin, fun." You roll your eyes and go out into the entrywau. 

"You get your back blown by one," she retorts over your shoulder. You shoot her the finger. Sometimes you forget that about Bucky. How dangerous he really can be. 

💍

You take Nat up on her invitation. Both of them. After the calorie-loaded latte, you let her take you to the compound for a workout. It’s been a while. Too long. 

Since the wedding, you just kind fell off everything. That was three years ago.  You just never got back on it. There was always something else. 

When you wanted to read, Bucky wanted to talk. When you wanted to try that new game you bought, he wanted to go out for dinner. Whenever you wanted anything, he had the perfect distraction. Just like last night. 

You should feel better. That’s what you keep arguing with yourself. You’re losing that battle along with the one with Nat. She knocks you off your feet and the air rushes out of you on impact. 

You never beat her. Never even came close. You’re not a mercenary, or a soldier, or an assassin. You’re not one of them. You’re just you and you’re starting to think that’s not enough. 

You stay on the mat. She steps over you and offers her wrapped hand. You take it and let her pull you to sitting. You wave her off as she sets her feet. 

“No more.” 

“You’re conditioning is shit,” she drops down across from you, draping her arms over her knees. “I thought he’d keep you in peak shape.” 

“Nat,” you shake your head. 

“Okay, I get it. Soft spot. What’s the matter? You and the doofus not fucking?” 

You sigh, “no, we did. Last night. It was...” You shrug. 

“Wow, sounds amazing,” she says dryly. 

“It could have been. He was away a whole month.” 

“I thought you’d be drooling,” she chuckles. “When you were dating, I remember him pinning you on this very mat.” 

“Yeah, well... he couldn’t even pick up the phone the whole time he was gone.” You stare down at your thighs. You lean back and feel your bloat. “Ugh, I’m not even mad about it. How can I blame him? Look at me.” 

“But last night?” She argues. 

“Yeah, last night, with the lights off, as I tried to pretend I was anyone else,” you exhale and look away. “Nat, I should be crying about this. I’m not. I can’t.” 

“Have you talked to him?” 

You give her a look. 

“Right. Talk to Bucky. Good luck.” 

You chew your lip and finally your heart decides to kick up. Your stomach churns. You look at her as a wrinkle lines your forehead. 

“What?” She urges. 

You scrunch up your lips. Just say it. Say it and it’ll sound so stupid you’ll know it’s wrong. 

“I think maybe... maybe it’s not going to work. Maybe...” you push your shoulders up. “Maybe I should look into lawyers.” 

“Divorce?” She gasps. 

You nod. It makes sense actually. You thought you’d take it back the minute it met the air. For once, you think you might be right. What did she always say? Trust your gut. 

[ink3dpag3s]

Unexpected siblings AU

Aka Jazz fenton is a certified therapist friend and a tad bit of a gremlin child, but both fenton kids gain a shit ton of siblings.

Everyone knows that Jack and Maddie fenton were deeply in love with two kids when they moved to Amity Park but what wasn't known was the fact that danny was not Jack's son or that jazz wasn't Maddie's daughter. So when shit went down with the GIW, the elder fentons sent their respective kids to their other biological parents for their safety.

Jack had always known his little girls bio mother was most likely someone unsavory and quite honestly pegged them as a possible spy. This made sense to him since Jazz had been left on his doorstep a good year after her mother disappeared from Jack's life, even if that meant he probably didn't know her actual name.

Meanwhile, Maddie always knew who her sons father was afterall she had been born of old money but chose to leave that life behind once she met Jack. Maddie had gotten a bit tipsy at a gala her parents threw alongside one Brucie Wayne, which ended up in a one night stand that gave her Danny.

So, while the two teenagers were on the run from the GIW, they stuck together with Jazz, promising she wouldn't leave her brother behind unless she knew he was going to be ok before going to find her birth mother. Both siblings grew out their hair, Jazz letting her natural brown hair grow in, in order to better hide from the guys in white while danny jist let his hair get shaggy while using some of his ghost energy to change his eye color to green just enough so that his eyes wouldn't glow. It didn't take long for them to run into something they didn't expect...

*The fenton siblings standing in front of the main entrance to Wayne manor.*

Danny: I know mom and dad wanted us to be safe, but are we sure this guy would even believe us?

Jazz: *Giving her brother a small hug.* If he doesn't, you can always come with me while I search for my biological mother.

Bruce & Talia: *Stepping out of the vehicle, they used to discuss damiens safety from the one's who led a coup against Ra's, freezing once they make it to the door because of the teenage doppelganger's standing in front of them.*

Danny: *Being the certified gremlin he was, turning around pretty fast when he heard them approaching and recognizing Bruce Wayne pretty easily.* Surprise, it's a boy! Can we come inside, please?

[witchywithwhiskey]

Dear Molly! For your sweethearts game. Can I please request

Lloyd Hansen- Bite Me! 😍

taste so sweet

pairing: brother's best friend!lloyd hansen x female reader

summary: you've been staying with your brother's best friend while you look for a new apartment, and when he gets on your last nerve, the dynamic in your relationship takes a sudden, sharp turn toward the filthy.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, oral sex (f and m receiving), vaginal and anal fingering, anal play, spanking, light pain play, light sadism/masochism, biting, bdsm dynamics established on the fly (including safe words and check-ins), very brief daddy kink, sir kink, praise kink, light degradation, pet names (a bunch), aftercare, sweet ending, kinda roommates to lovers

word count: 5.0k

a/n: i think i can safely say "bite me" was the most popular prompt y'all chose for this game since this is the third one i've written with it 🤭 i've had a lot of fun coming up with different scenarios that it makes sense in, and with Lloyd...well of course he's going to actually bite you 😏 anyway thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

The dulcet murmuring of the yoga instructor on the TV was rudely interrupted by Lloyd Hansen, whose voice was equal parts eager curiosity, impolite teasing and vulgar innuendo. 

You couldn’t see your brother’s best friend-slash-temporary roommate’s face from where you were positioned on your yoga mat. You were facing the TV in the living room of his apartment, while the front door was at your back. 

Somehow, though, you could still see the smug grin on Lloyd’s face, framed perfectly by his stupid mustache.

Lloyd wasn’t supposed to be home so soon! You thought you were safe to do your morning yoga routine in the living room instead of the cramped guest bedroom without commentary from the man who couldn’t seem to resist annoying the shit out of you—which had only gotten worse since you’d moved in.

After the lease on your last apartment had ended and you hadn’t been able to find a new place in your price range, you’d had to take your brother up on his offer to stay with Lloyd for a bit while you continued your search. You’d never liked Lloyd—he was an undeniable douchebag and, again, always seemed hellbent on annoying you—but you hadn’t had much of a choice. 

It was just your luck that Lloyd was the only person in the city who had the luxury of a spare bedroom. Your friends were all crammed into tiny places with roommates or significant others, and your brother lived too far outside the city to be a reasonable commute in for work. So you’d sucked it up and moved in with Lloyd. 

For the most part, things had been fine. Mostly because you’d been avoiding your brother’s best friend as much as possible, especially since the first week. You’d accidentally caught a glimpse of Lloyd wearing only a towel as he’d ducked from the bathroom into his bedroom while you’d been eating breakfast. 

You’d nearly dropped your spoon and spilled oats and yoghurt everywhere. The sight of Lloyd’s muscled chest, bare and glistening with droplets of water, was such a shock to your system, you’d stared after him for a long time, your brain unable to process the undeniable truth of what you’d witnessed. 

Your brother’s best friend was hot. 

Ever since then, you’d been unable to stop noticing things about Lloyd, like the softness of his pink mouth beneath the bristles of his mustache, and the spark of humor that seemed to be ever-present in his bright, blue eyes. He actually had a handsome face—though, in your opinion, he would be hotter if he’d shave off that ridiculous mustache. 

But even the mustache was growing on you. Which told you that you were getting in way too deep.

And to make matters worse, Lloyd seemed to have noticed that his lewd and flirty comments flustered and annoyed you the most, so he’d started making them more and more. You knew he didn’t mean anything by them, that he was just pestering you because you were your brother’s little sister, but you’d started to enjoy it far more than you should.

It was the main reason you avoided doing yoga in the living room. The positions the yoga instructor led you through had you bent over on your hands and knees, ass sticking up in the air, and you could just imagine the things Lloyd would say—and the way your body would warm, as if welcoming him to follow through on his empty threats—and you didn’t want to deal with it.

But now you had to. 

“I didn’t take you for the yoga type, cupcake,” Lloyd drawled when you didn’t immediately respond to his question. He set something down on the table beside the door, toed out of his shoes and padded further into the apartment, coming to a stop at the foot of your mat. “I never thought you’d paint such a pretty picture, pumpkin, with your head down and ass up…”

Lloyd’s voice trailed off, his tone thick with suggestion, and it took every ounce of self-control in your body not to tremble. You wanted to lower your shoulders, press your cheek to the mat, and present your ass to Lloyd, but your pride would never allow it. So instead, you spit out two words designed to make him leave you alone.

“Bite me.”

You’d turned your head to look at Lloyd while you said it, so you knew he wasn’t even looking at your face. He was just staring at your ass. 

But at your words, his eyes flicked to yours, humor and hunger sparkling in their blue depths, and he grinned widely. Something low in your belly clenched tight with anticipation, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes at him and turn back to your video. 

The yoga instructor on the TV was using her melodious voice to encourage you to inhale into cow pose before exhaling into cat pose. The movements meant you had to arch your spine toward the mat and then round it toward the ceiling, all while Lloyd watched.

Your body warmed when you dropped your belly and looked up, assuming cow pose, the position practically offering your ass up on a platter for Lloyd. 

Despite this, you couldn’t help but keep your breath in your lungs, holding the position longer than normal as you wondered what Lloyd was going to do or say. Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long to find out. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Lloyd muttered, his voice low and gruff in a way you’d never heard it before. 

You only had a second to puzzle over the meaning of his words before he was falling to his knees behind you, his hands grabbing hold of your hips. A second later, you felt his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your ass through your leggings. 

If you’d been asked, before that moment, what your reaction to someone biting your ass would’ve been, you would’ve answered confidently that you wouldn’t have enjoyed it. You’d assume you would shriek in surprise or kick backward to dislodge the person biting you. But your actual reaction was very different.

A low, obscenely filthy moan slipped from your lips, and your arms gave out. Your upper body sank down to your elbows on the mat, just like you’d imagined, and you pushed your ass right into Lloyd’s face. 

It just felt so good—the slight sting of pain simmering into a burning heat of pleasure that had heat gathering quickly between your thighs. 

It was only when you realized your response was just as inappropriate as Lloyd biting you that you reached an arm back and pushed against his shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, ignoring the breathlessness in your voice and the way it sounded like you were panting for more, not begging him to stop. 

Lloyd lifted his head from your ass enough to catch your eye over your shoulder. “You told me to bite you, so I did,” he said simply, an unrepentant grin on his stupidly handsome face.

You huffed an annoyed sound, turning around and burying your face in your arms, refusing to let him see how turned on you were. But then Lloyd pulled one of his hands from your hips and slapped your ass hard. 

Your body rocked forward from the force of the spank, and you bit so hard into your arm, you thought you might draw blood with the effort to hold in your moan. But you couldn’t stop your hips from pushing back instinctively, as if asking for more.

The brazen movement only made Lloyd chuckle, the sound low and devious and far hotter than it had any right to be.

“And it looks like you liked it—do you like a little bit of pain, princess?” Lloyd teased, an undercurrent of knowing in his smug, patronizing tone. 

“That’s none of your business,” you spit out, forehead pressed to your forearms. You were unable to look at him, lest your brother’s best friend read it all over your face that you very much did like the little bit of pain he was giving you, that it heightened the pleasure, and you desperately wanted more.

Lloyd paused, and for one brief devastating moment, you thought he might pull away, that things might end there and you almost rushed to tell him not to stop. But before you could, he spoke, his voice calmer and more even.

“If I ask you ‘red, yellow or green’, do you know what that means, sunshine?” he asked in a serious tone. His hand was lighter and more soothing as his palm skimmed over your lower back, no longer touching you anywhere that was inappropriate. 

“Yes, I understand,” you rushed to say, arching your spine and pushing your ass back into Lloyd’s lap, sucking in a gasp when you brushed against a thick bulge. “Green—green, Lloyd, please.” 

It was easier to beg him this way, with a vague statement of consent, so you didn’t have to put into words everything you wanted. That you wanted him to push your head into the mat and spank you hard enough you’d be feeling it for days, to pull down your leggings and shove his cock into you, pounding against your smarting ass until he made you come undone.

Lloyd chuckled, the sound so self-satisfied and condescending, it made your slit grow wetter, your arousal dripping into your panties. But then his hands grabbed you roughly again, his strong fingers kneading your ass mercilessly through your leggings. 

“You’re wrong about it not being my business, cupcake,” Lloyd rumbled, his voice warm even as it was patronizing. “As long as you’re living under my roof, everything about you is my business.”

The possessiveness in his words did something to your body, your belly swooping and your heart flipping in your chest, none of which you were ready to admit to Lloyd. 

So you huffed a noise that you hoped sounded annoyed and sarcastically muttered, “Sure, dad.”

Your intention had been to mock Lloyd, who’d sounded like an overbearing father unable to give their child the freedom they deserved. But your words only seemed to heat the air between you and Lloyd, your brattiness bringing out something blazingly hot and deliciously volatile. 

The quiet of the apartment, save for the yoga video still playing softly on the TV, was broken by the sharp crack of Lloyd’s hand coming down on your ass. You could feel your soft flesh jiggle, and it added a wonderful contrast to the light, stinging pain of the slap, which sounded worse than it had felt. 

A low moan slipped from your body and you lowered your upper body further to the mat beneath you, arching your spine and presenting your ass just a little bit more for Lloyd, almost as if asking for more without words. But you should’ve known your brother’s best friend better.

“Is that what you’re into, filthy girl?” Lloyd asked, his big hands kneading your ass roughly through your leggings, making you wish he’d pull the fabric down and touch you for real. “Do you like to call the guys you fuck ‘dad’ and ‘daddy’—or am I special?”

Lloyd’s hands must be magic, it was the only explanation you could come up with for how good they were making you feel. But you weren’t distracted enough to not mouth off at your brother’s best friend.

“Who says I’m going to fuck you?” you shot back haughtily, turning your head and catching Lloyd’s gaze. You quirked your eyebrow at him in what could only be described as an insolent look.  

Lloyd’s eyes darkened at the challenge in your tone. In a swift movement, he dropped his head to your ass, sinking his teeth deep into your soft flesh. 

Even through your leggings and panties, you felt the sharp sting of his bite, and your eyelashes fluttered while another moan spilled from your lips unbidden. 

The pain was at once reprimanding and playful, and your mind spun with the headiness of it. You could hardly believe Lloyd had bit you the first time, but a second time… Your heart was racing in your chest and your pussy was throbbing between your thighs and you needed something. 

“You are,” Lloyd growled, dragging your attention back to the conversation you’d been having. His voice was smug even as it was thick with lust, and it took you a long moment to process his words. 

Lloyd gave you a short reprieve, one of his hands sliding up your spine to wrap around the back of your neck. With his grip firm on your head, he lifted you up enough to make sure you maintained eye contact while he spoke. 

“I’d prefer if you called me ‘sir’ instead of ‘daddy’ or anything like that,” he said, his tone as serious as it had been when he’d asked you for a color. His gaze held yours, and you knew he expected a response, but for a moment all you could do was look back at him. 

There was something weighty about the moment that stole your breath. Lloyd wasn’t just messing around with you, he wanted you to know his preferences, he wanted to make sure you felt safe with him. He’d made sure you had a way of telling him to stop while you kept playing your game and now he was telling you what he liked. 

It was freeing and terrifying at the same moment, so you responded the only way you knew how—like a brat. 

“Noted,” you said in the same serious tone as Lloyd had used. Then you tossed your head and murmured blithely, “But I’m not gonna fuck you, sir.” The honorific was spit from your lips with as much impertinence as you could muster, and you were gratified by the way Lloyd’s expression darkened.

“You’re right, sunshine, I’m the one that’s gonna be fucking you,” Lloyd countered, giving you little time to process his words before he was ducking down behind you. 

A second later, you felt his hot tongue press to the curve where your ass met your thigh and drag upward, licking you so close to where your slit was dripping into your panties, but not touching you there. It was such a tease that another obscene moan fell from your lips. 

“Oh god,” you groaned, canting your hips and pushing your pussy closer to his face, but Lloyd just repeated the motion on the other side of your pussy, ignoring your slit entirely. “Lloyd.” His name was a frustrated huff as he licked closer to your cunt.

“You sure you don’t want me to fuck you, pumpkin?” Lloyd asked teasingly, using his big hands to spread your ass so he could drag his tongue closer to your pussy. “I could fuck you real good with my mouth and make you cum on my tongue—ya just gotta ask nicely.”

You wanted to keep being a brat, you wanted to see how far you could push Lloyd before he’d snap, but the more he tortured and teased you with his tongue through your clothes, the wilder it drove you. 

You were so worked up, you thought Lloyd might be able to make you cum without even taking off your leggings and panties, but that thought left you cold and bereft. 

When you didn’t say anything, Lloyd chuckled at your stubbornness. His hot breath ghosted over the wet spots he’d left on your leggings, making you tremble violently, your thighs quivering as they struggled to keep holding you up.

“C’mon, don’t you wanna be a filthy girl for me, princess?” Lloyd coaxed, his voice low and smooth and so entreating you wanted to give in already. “Don’t you wanna cum all over my face, sunshine, make a mess of my mustache?” 

He dragged his face back and forth against your ass, making you feel the coarse bristles of his mustache, and you nearly howled with need. Desire was blazing through your body, your need for his tongue was throbbing in your pussy to the same beat as your racing heart. You could feel your resolve crumbling. 

“Just ask me nicely, cupcake, and I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Please,” you cried, the word half sob and half prayer, wrenched from the depths of your soul. “Please fuck me with your tongue, sir, please make me cum—please!”

“Atta girl,” Lloyd crooned, yanking your leggings and panties down in one harsh move, and burying his face in your cunt from behind. He groaned loudly into your damp flesh, sweeping his tongue from your clit to your ass, tasting every inch of you. “Fuck, you taste so sweet, pumpkin.”

Your thighs were trapped together by your clothes, which Lloyd had only pulled down far enough to get to your pussy, but that didn’t stop you from pushing your hips back into his face. One of your hands reached back blindly, sinking into his soft brown hair, slick with just a little bit of gel, and twisted in the strands, holding him close.

“Lloyd,” you cried out, your body trembling as he licked deep into your slit, his mustache brushing against your heated, oversensitive skin. It made you sob with pleasure at the contrast of his hot tongue and the rough rasp of his coarse hair. “Lloyd, oh god, oh god, yes!”

Without pulling his face from your cunt, which he kept eating voraciously, Lloyd brought a hand down sharply on your ass. It surprised you enough that you let out a little shriek, your body shuddering and your pussy dripping even more onto Lloyd’s tongue.

“What did I tell you to call me, princess,” he rumbled into your soft, wet cunt. “If you want me to keep eating this pretty pussy, you call me ‘sir’ and you use your words to tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want to cum,” you whimpered, your pleasure already twisting overwhelmingly in your core. You were so close, so close, so close. “I want to cum all over your face, sir—please make me cum, sir!”

Lloyd chuckled, nipping playfully at your folds. His hands kneaded your ass, holding you right where he wanted you while he feasted on your pussy.

“I’m gonna make you cum, pretty girl, don’t you worry,” he purred, pausing only to nuzzle his mustache over the tender flesh of your soaked cunt, laughing huskily when you trembled and whined for him. “Gonna make your cunt cream all over my mustache.”

“Oh god, yes, sir, want it,” you moaned, your fingers twisting tighter in Lloyd’s hair and pulling his face into your body. At the same time, you pushed your hips back, until his groans were muffled as he ate you out. 

His fingers worked your soft curves, groping you roughly and delivering sharp spanks whenever you reverted to calling him Lloyd, making you gasp and moan in equal measure. He gorged himself on your pussy, licking deep into your hole, sucking on your clit and nipping at your sensitive flesh until you were a writhing, moaning mess.

When he had you squirming and begging beneath him, Lloyd’s thumb trailed down the seam of your ass, brushing against your little rosebud. You squealed when he pressed lightly against the tight ring of muscle, your body shaking violently under the strength of your pleasure. 

Lloyd paused only long enough to ask for your color and when you gasped an enthusiastic, “Green!” he dipped his thumb into your pussy, coated it in your slick arousal, and pushed it into your ass. 

All the while, he used his soothing voice to coax you into relaxing for him, to letting him in, and when you did, you moaned loudly at the feel of him inside you. It was so depraved and delicious and you loved it.

“You’re so fucking perfect, cupcake,” Lloyd growled against your pussy, shoving his tongue deep inside you to feel the way you fluttered for him. “Now cum on my tongue, princess,” he ordered, his voice rough and demanding, “Wanna taste your cum, give it to me—cum for me, filthy girl.”

Lloyd’s growled command and the way his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking mercilessly on the bundle of nerves while his thumb was buried in your ass, had you shattering apart with a scream you tried to muffle in your yoga mat. It was a desperate, aching cry as your pussy convulsed and gushed with your release.

Behind you, Lloyd rumbled an appreciative sound, drinking down your juices greedily, tongue lapping up every drop until you were shivering from the overstimulation. Even then, he brushed his mustache over your clit, the delicious rasp wringing one last devastating aftershock from your body as you whimpered pathetically.

When you were done, Lloyd carefully slipped his thumb from your ass, pulled up your leggings and panties, then wrapped his arms around your upper body, easing you up from your bent over position. He sat back and tugged you into his lap, holding you close in the cage of his arms while you caught your breath.

“Did that feel good, sunshine?” he asked in a voice gentler than any you’d heard him use before. There was a level of care in his tone that made your heart thump harder in your chest, even as your body otherwise settled and cooled.

“Yeah,” you said on a delicate exhale, snuggling into Lloyd’s chest and breathing in the spicy scent of his cologne. He made you feel so safe and comfortable, you gave in to the urge to add, “Thank you, sir.”

Lloyd chuckled a little, cupping your cheek in his big hand and lifting your head so he could look you in the eye. “Thank you, pretty girl, for trusting me to make you feel good.”

There was so much genuine affection in Lloyd’s crystal blue gaze that it stole the breath from your lungs. Your eyes dropped to his mouth, traces of your release still glistening on his lips and in his mustache. The urge to kiss him, to taste yourself on Lloyd’s tongue, was nearly overwhelming. 

As if reading your mind, Lloyd leaned in, pausing a hair’s breadth away from your lips. But you didn’t want him to hesitate, you wanted him to kiss you—so you closed the distance and kissed your brother’s best friend for the first time.

Your first kiss with Lloyd Hansen was filthy and messy, and yet also somehow sweet and gentle. His mouth was soft, and firm as he explored yours, licking along your lips and deepening the kiss quickly when you immediately opened for him. 

Though he tasted of your release, reminding you of all the dirty things he’d already done to your body, he was tender as he slipped his tongue between your lips. And he was methodical in learning what made you gasp and moan for him. 

Against your thigh, you could feel Lloyd’s cock twitching, and a renewed heat began to stir in your core, making you yearn to keep going with whatever had begun between the two of you. 

Breaking from the kiss, you took a moment to appreciate the dark heat in Lloyd’s eyes, the slight, smug curl of his mouth. Before that morning, that look might’ve annoyed you, but now it just filled you with heat and excitement.

“Would you like me to take care of you now, sir?” you asked sweetly, dragging your fingers down Lloyd’s chest, delighting in the way his muscles jumped and danced beneath your touch. 

Before you could touch him where he was twitching and throbbing in his pants, though, Lloyd caught your wrist and snatched your hand away. Despite the way Lloyd’s fingers tangled in yours, disappointment crashed over you and you frowned up at him.

“Why don’t you finish your yoga, and then we can talk a bit, figure out exactly what we both want this to be,” Lloyd said in that softer tone of his. It made you feel safe, sweeping away the disappointment you’d felt only a moment ago. “I brought you coffee and a treat.”

Lloyd tipped his head toward the table next to the front door of the apartment, and you looked to see a cardboard tray with two to-go cups. Next to it sat a paper bag with the logo of your favorite bakery stamped on it. 

“You got me coffee?” you asked, tilting your head to the side with confusion. Lloyd never did nice things for you like that. You were just his best friend’s annoying little sister who was crashing with him while she looked for apartments, not someone he’d get a special treat for.

Looking back at Lloyd, you could see a slight pink in his cheeks, and he wouldn’t meet your eye. 

“And a pastry thing with red frosting,” he said, answering your question. When you sat in silence for a beat too long, he finally dragged his gaze to yours, noting your confusion. “Do you not know what day it is?”

You lifted your shoulders in a careless shrug and shook your head. “February…something?” 

Lloyd huffed a laugh. “It’s Valentine’s Day, princess.” His tone was somehow both patronizing and warm, and he rolled his eyes at you for good measure. 

But you were already rolling your eyes right back at him, shoving playfully at his chest. “How was I supposed to know, it’s not like I have anyone—wait!” Your defensive explanation for why you’d forgotten the holiday cut off abruptly as something occurred to you.

Your eyes widened and you looked at Lloyd, studying your brother’s best friend closely. His cheeks were still a little pink with the faint trace of a blush, and the corners of his mouth were flickering like he was trying to hold back a smile.

But it was Lloyd’s eyes that really gave him away. His sparkling blue eyes were glimmering with so much warmth and affection, it made you gasp all over again.

“You got me a Valentine’s Day treat!” 

At your pronouncement, Lloyd tossed his head back and laughed. Your eyes snagged on the long line of his throat, staring greedily and wondering if Lloyd would mind if you paid him back for all his teasing by licking along the corded muscle there. 

When Lloyd finally lowered his head and caught your eye again, there was humor and desire shimmering in the depth of his gaze. 

“I thought it was time we finally do something about all the sizzling chemistry between us,” Lloyd explained, giving you a playful wink. It was on the tip of your tongue to protest—your mouth even opened to deny it—but Lloyd just gave you a hard look. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, cupcake, don’t deny it.”

The memory of Lloyd ducking out of the bathroom in only a towel and striding to his room popped into your head unbidden. Since then, you had been looking at him with much more heat and desire than you ever thought you’d feel for your brother’s best friend, but you’d thought you’d kept it under wraps. 

Apparently not, since Lloyd was giving you such a knowing look. All you could do was scoff and roll your eyes. 

“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms while you huffed and puffed and pouted up at him. “Can I have my treat now?”

“Not until you finish your yoga,” Lloyd said sternly, patting your ass as he helped you slide off his lap. You shot him a bratty glare, which only made his eyes darken; his hand slapped your ass a little harder. “Finish your yoga and then you get your treat—and you can play with my cock.”

“Oooh, okay!” you said more eagerly, quickly stretching yourself out on your mat and pulling up the video that had long since finished. You found the spot where Lloyd had distracted you and got back into position before you hit play.

Lloyd gathered the cardboard tray and pastry bag from the table, then sat down on the couch, sipping his coffee while he watched you move through your yoga positions. You knew he watched you the whole time, because you could feel his eyes undressing you, no doubt thinking of other fun ways to interrupt your morning yoga in the future. 

Once you were blessedly done with the yoga routine, you bounced up from the mat and went to Lloyd, who pulled you into his lap before you could sit beside him on the couch. He handed you your coffee and the bag with the pastry. 

While you ate and drank, the two of you discussed what you wanted from a relationship, both inside and out of the bedroom, and whether you’d tell your brother before or after you moved out of Lloyd’s apartment. 

Lloyd promised to help you find your own place, revealing he’d been doing some digging already and had a couple prospects for you to look at. 

After you were done with your coffee and pastry, you slid off Lloyd’s lap, kneeling between his parted legs and begged him to let you have your other treat. Lloyd helped you get his pants down enough for you to pull out his cock. 

You licked him from base to crown, swirling your tongue around the hot, leaking tip and humming in delight when you tasted his salty precum. Looking up at Lloyd from under your lashes, you smiled at him. 

“You taste so sweet, sir,” you purred, before lavishing his cock with all the attention of your warm, devoted tongue. 

Lloyd groaned, mumbling something about how perfect you and your mouth were while you worshipped his cock, teasing him just as much as he’d teased you. When he finally came, it was with a nearly feral growl, his hands pushing your head roughly down on his cock as you swallowed his cum greedily. 

The rest of your Valentine’s Day was spent curled up with Lloyd Hansen, looking up apartment listings in between talking and getting to know each other better. He may have been your brother’s best friend when you’d moved in, but you were both determined that he’d be your boyfriend by the time you moved out. 

sweethearts game masterlist

[ksdarou]

My best friend's mother is my fuck buddy

Words: 2289

Tags : Big tits, Handjob, risky sex

In the quiet, tree-lined streets of our small town, there lived a woman named Yeji. She was a creature of simple beauty, with dark hair that cascaded down her back like a moonlit river and skin that seemed to glow with the warmth of a thousand distant suns. Her eyes, a deep brown, held the kind of secrets that could make a man's heart skip a beat. But Yeji wasn't just any woman; she was the mother of my childhood friend, Minho.

Minho and I had been thick as thieves since we could barely walk, our friendship a pattern of shared scrapes, whispered secrets, and stolen moments of pure, unbridled mischief. Yeji had always been there, a silent sentinel watching over us, her eyes often filled with a knowing smile. As we grew older, her teasing nature grew bolder, yet she remained the epitome of grace and poise, a constant source of both admiration and confusion for me.

One particularly hot summer afternoon, as we lazed in the shade of the large oak in Minho's backyard, Yeji brought us tall glasses of iced tea, the condensation beading up and running down the sides. "Drink up, my little soldiers," she said, her accent thick and playful. As she handed me my glass, her hand lingered just a fraction too long, her thumb grazing the back of my hand. It was innocent enough, but the way she looked at me made my cheeks burn.

"Thanks, Mrs. Hwang," I mumbled, taking a hasty sip to hide my nerves.

"Oh, please," she said, her laughter tinkling like wind chimes. "Call me Yeji." She winked, the gesture sending a shiver down my spine. Little did I know, that small act of familiarity was the opening note of a symphony that would soon engulf me in a world of forbidden desires and unspoken agreements.

The days grew longer, the heat more oppressive, and Yeji's teasing more intense. Her clothes seemed to shrink, revealing more and more of her lithe body. The way she'd bend over to pick up a towel or the way her shirt clung to her when she walked by the pool, leaving wet trails on her skin, had me swallowing hard. I couldn't help but steal glances, my eyes drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Then came the night that changed everything. I was staying over, and after Minho had gone to bed, Yeji and I found ourselves alone in the dimly lit living room. She sat close, our legs brushing together. The air grew thick with tension, and when she leaned over, her breath hot against my ear, she whispered, "Do you know what I want?" My heart hammered in my chest.

Her hand slid up my thigh, her touch featherlight yet firm, until it reached the unmistakable bulge in my shorts. "I've wanted to do this for so long," she murmured, her voice a siren's song. Before I could protest or even process what was happening, she had unzipped my shorts and was stroking me gently, her eyes never leaving mine. I was lost in a sea of sensation, drowning in the warmth of her touch.

The next day, the house was a minefield of anticipation. Every creak of the floorboard, every rustle of a curtain seemed to echo with the promise of what was to come. Yeji had set the rules, and today, she had granted me the privilege of touching her breasts. I felt like I was walking on eggshells, my every move calculated, my every breath shallow.

When the moment finally arrived, she led me to her bedroom, the door clicking shut behind us like a gunshot. She sat on the edge of the bed, her back to me. "You can touch them," she said, her voice a smoky whisper. "But only if you're gentle."

My hands trembled as I reached out, the fabric of her shirt cool under my fingertips. As I slid it off her shoulders, revealing her bare skin, she leaned back, offering herself to me. Her breasts were firm, the nipples already pebbled with desire. I cupped them, feeling their weight, my thumbs circling the sensitive peaks. She sighed, the sound a sweet symphony in the stillness of the room.

Yet, as my thumbs brushed over her nipples, I felt a strange mix of guilt and exhilaration. This was my best friend's mother, and here I was, exploring her body as if it was a treasure map leading to uncharted territories. But the way she arched her back, the soft moans she couldn't hold back, they were an undeniable invitation to delve deeper into this secret world we had unlocked together.

The final day, my birthday, dawned with a sense of excitement tinged with a hint of apprehension. Yeji had promised that tonight, she would allow me to take her fully. The thought made my head spin, my pulse race, my heart thump in my chest like a drum. It was a gift I never dared hope for, one that seemed too good to be true.

That evening, as we sat at the dinner table, Yeji's eyes never left mine, a silent promise passing between us. Minho was oblivious, chattering away about his school day, the innocence of his words a stark contrast to the heated thoughts racing through my mind. When he finally excused himself to go to bed, Yeji's gaze grew more intense, a silent countdown to the moment we had both been waiting for.

As I approached her room, I heard the faint sound of jazz drifting through the hallway. I knocked softly, and she called for me to enter. The room was bathed in a soft, warm light, the scent of jasmine heavy in the air. Yeji lay on the bed, wearing nothing but a sultry smile.

"You've been such a good boy," she purred, her voice a seductive whisper. "Now it's time for your reward."

Her legs parted, revealing the slick folds of her sex, glistening in the soft glow. I knew what she expected, what she wanted, but as

 I approached, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was crossing a line that could never be uncrossed. Yet, the allure of her was too great, and I found myself kneeling before her, my hands trembling with a mix of fear and desire.

I leaned in, my tongue tentative at first, tracing the delicate line of her outer labia before venturing further. She tasted sweet and salty, a cocktail of arousal that made my own need throb in response. Yeji's thighs quivered, and she let out a soft gasp as I found her clit, flicking it gently before taking it into my mouth. The sounds of her pleasure grew louder, urging me on, until she was bucking against me, her hands in my hair, guiding me as I pleasured her.

The tension grew, the room thick with it, until she was panting and begging for more. I stood, my erection painfully obvious, and she took me in her hand, stroking me with the same expertise she had shown the day before. Then, with a mischievous smile, she turned over, presenting her ass to me. "Take me," she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire. "But remember, only outside."

I positioned myself behind her, my cock nudging at her entrance, and she was wet, so wet that she took me in with ease. I began to thrust, slow at first, savoring the feel of her tightness, her heat enveloping me like a glove. She was tight around me, and each stroke sent a jolt of pleasure through my body, making me ache for release.

The rhythm grew more urgent, our bodies moving together in a silent dance of lust. I could feel myself getting closer, the pressure building in my balls, and I knew I wouldn't last much longer. I reached around, my hand finding her clit again, and I rubbed it in time with my thrusts. Her breathing grew ragged, and she began to moan louder, her body taut with the approaching climax.

As she came, her muscles clamping down on me, I could hold back no longer. I pulled out, and with a few more strokes, I painted her ass with ropes of hot semen. The release was unlike anything I had ever experienced, a crescendo of pleasure that left me breathless and dizzy. Yeji collapsed onto the bed, her body still quivering with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

We lay there, panting and sticky, the room filled with the sound of our harsh breathing. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated carnality, a secret we would share forever. Our friendship had been forever altered, the invisible line between us erased in a whirlwind of passion.

In the days that followed, our encounters grew more frequent, more intense. Yeji became insatiable, her appetite for our secret rendezvous an addiction that I found myself eagerly feeding. Each time was different, each time a new exploration of her body, a new revelation of her desires. And through it all, she remained the same warm, caring woman I had known since childhood, her smile never dimming, her teasing never ceasing.

Yet, the weight of our secret grew heavier with each passing day. The fear of being caught, the guilt of betraying my friend's trust, it was a burden that I carried with me, a constant reminder of the fine line we were treading. But as Yeji's nails dug into my back, her voice crying out my name in the throes of passion, I knew I was in too deep to turn back now. This was a path that, once chosen, could only lead to a future fraught with both ecstasy and despair.

One afternoon, as the sun blazed outside and the house was still, Yeji and I found ourselves locked in a passionate embrace on the couch. Her skirt was hiked up, and I was buried deep inside her, our hips moving in a frantic rhythm that mirrored our racing hearts. We were lost in the moment, our breaths mingling in a silent symphony of lust.

Suddenly, the front door slammed shut, and we froze. "Mom, I'm home!" Minho's voice echoed through the house, shattering the illusion of our clandestine world. Panic flooded me as I hastily pulled out, tucking my shirt back into my pants. Yeji, ever the composed woman, straightened her clothes with a practiced ease, her eyes never leaving mine as she whispered, "Don't worry, I'll handle this."

We waited, the air thick with unspoken tension, as Minho's footsteps grew closer. When he entered the room, he looked at us with a puzzled expression before shrugging it off and tossing his backpack on the floor. "You guys okay?" he asked, his gaze bouncing between us. Yeji's laugh was light, airy, the picture of nonchalance. "We're just catching up on some TV," she said, her voice as smooth as silk.

Minho nodded, oblivious to the storm raging just beneath the surface of our calm facades. He grabbed a snack from the kitchen, and we resumed our positions, the tension in the room palpable. Yeji's hand found mine under the couch, and she gave it a reassuring squeeze. It was a gesture that spoke volumes, a silent promise that she had this under control.

As the days turned into weeks, the guilt grew more pronounced, a constant whisper in my ear. I found myself torn between the friendship that had shaped me and the woman who had come to dominate my thoughts. Yet, when she'd look at me, her eyes filled with a hunger that I couldn't ignore, all rational thought would evaporate, leaving only the primal need to satisfy her.

The culmination of our secret affair came one rainy night when Minho was out with his friends. Yeji and I had the house to ourselves, and the air was charged with electricity. She led me to her bed, her movements deliberate and seductive. "Tonight, my love," she murmured, "you can come inside me."

Her words sent a thrill through me, a mix of excitement and terror. This was it, the ultimate act of betrayal, and I knew there would be no turning back. Yet, as she straddled me, her eyes filled with love and lust, I couldn't resist the siren's call. We moved together, our bodies in perfect harmony, as the rain pattered against the window, providing a rhythmic soundtrack to our illicit passion.

When I finally released inside her, it was as if a dam had broken, flooding me with a mix of relief and dread. Yeji's eyes closed in bliss, her body shuddering with pleasure. But as she collapsed onto my chest, her breath hot against my skin, I couldn't help but wonder what price we would pay for this moment of pure, unbridled desire.

Our secret remained safe, hidden beneath the veneer of our everyday lives. But every time I looked at Minho, every time I heard his laugh, I felt the weight of our transgression pressing down on me. Yeji was careful, always the model mother, her smiles and teasing glances reserved for when we were alone. Yet, the tension grew, a tightrope we danced on, each step more precarious than the last.

And so, we continued, locked in our secret world of pleasure and pain. Each day brought a new challenge, each night a new temptation. The guilt was a constant companion, but the allure of Yeji's touch was stronger. I knew it couldn't last, that eventually, our house of cards would crumble. But for now, we reveled in the sweet, forbidden fruit of our love, each moment stolen, each touch a silent declaration of a bond that defied all boundaries.

[solxamber]

Leona, Romantic, Homesick by MICO

"I'd Stay" || Leona Kingscholar

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Homesick by MICO

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 990

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Happy ending

Leona doesn’t beg. He doesn’t chase. He doesn’t ask people to stay.

And yet—

He sits in the dim glow of early morning, watching the way the golden light stretches across your skin, watching the way you sleep so peacefully next to him, your body curled into the warmth of his own.

And he aches.

Because when the sun is fully up, you’ll leave.

He lets his gaze flicker to the half-packed bags in the corner, the ones you didn’t finish because last night, you were tangled up in his arms, pressing whispered nothings into his skin. Because last night, you were here.

But the morning always brings reality, and reality means you’re leaving.

He should be used to this. To letting things go before they slip through his fingers. He’s done it his whole damn life. But for the first time, something in his chest twists with a foreign kind of desperation—something he doesn’t know how to name.

He doesn’t know what to do with it.

So he does what he always does. He says nothing.

And waits for you to wake up and go.

You wake slowly, warmth cocooning you before you even open your eyes.

Leona.

You shift against him, pressing your face against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the feeling of his fingers threading through your hair. He’s awake. He’s never awake this early.

That’s the first thing that tells you something’s wrong.

The second is the silence.

Leona isn’t a man of many words, but this silence feels different. He’s thinking—too much, too deeply, like he’s trying to work something out in his head and doesn’t like the answer he’s coming to.

You don’t say anything at first. You just let yourself stay like this a little longer. Wrapped up in him. Pretending the world outside this bed doesn’t exist.

But eventually, you have to break the quiet.

“I’ll visit,” you murmur, voice thick with sleep.

Leona goes still. His hand stops moving against your hair.

You don’t need to look at him to know what he’s thinking.

He doesn’t want a damn visit.

He wants you here.

“…I know,” he says finally, but it’s quiet. Heavy. A lie dressed up in indifference.

You press your lips together. You know it’s unfair, the way you’re waiting for him to say something, waiting for him to give you a reason to stay. But Leona is proud. You’ve always known that. He doesn’t ask for things. He doesn’t admit what he wants until it’s already slipped through his fingers.

But this time, maybe—

“You could come with me.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and you feel the way he tenses beneath you. Like the thought had never even occurred to him.

Then, slowly, his fingers resume their absentminded movement against your scalp. He exhales a quiet scoff.

“Can’t just leave everything behind for you, herbivore.”

You close your eyes. That’s what you thought he’d say.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I know.”

The thing is, you would.

You’d stay, in a heartbeat. You’d unpack your bags, cancel your flights, change everything just to be with him. You would. But you know better than to ask him to do the same.

Because Leona is Leona, and he’s never been one to cling to things, never been one to believe in fairytales and endings that don’t end in disappointment.

And yet—

You don’t see the way his jaw clenches, the way he stares at the ceiling like it holds an answer he doesn’t want to face.

You don’t see the way his hand tightens against your waist, like he’s trying to commit the feeling of you to memory.

And you don’t hear the words sitting heavy on his tongue, the ones he swallows down before they have the chance to escape.

Stay. Please, stay.

Because Leona doesn’t beg.

And you?

You’ve already made up your mind.

The silence stretches between you, something unspoken hanging in the air. Heavy. Pressing.

You take a slow breath and shift, preparing to move—to get up, finish packing, and finally leave.

But before you can, a hand curls around your wrist.

Firm. Steady. Unyielding.

You pause, blinking in the dim morning light, and look down at where Leona holds you. His grip isn’t tight, but it’s final. Like he’s afraid if he lets go, you’ll disappear completely.

“…Leona?” You murmur, confused.

His thumb brushes against your skin, slow and deliberate. His head is tilted back against the pillow, but his eyes—those sharp, piercing green eyes—are on you.

There’s something raw in his expression, something stripped bare in the way he looks at you now, like he’s finally let himself feel all the things he’s been too afraid to name.

And then, his lips part—his voice low, hoarse, like the words are scraping their way out of his throat before he can stop them.

"Stay."

Your breath catches.

He doesn’t say it like a demand. He doesn’t say it like a challenge, like he’s trying to test you or push you away like he usually does.

He just says it.

Like he means it.

Like he needs it.

Like he needs you.

“…Leona.”

His jaw clenches, and his grip tightens just slightly, like he’s expecting you to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, you swallow hard, something swelling in your chest—something warm, something hopeful—and you let your fingers slip between his, squeezing gently.

"Okay," you whisper.

His breath shudders out, and then he’s pulling you back down, into the warmth of the sheets, into him.

He doesn’t say anything else. He just buries his face in your hair, arms circling you like he can keep you here just like this, like he can make up for all the nights he let you walk away without stopping you.

But this time, you won’t be leaving.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[tinythebunni]

blurb for simon and his socially unaware princess who makes him pass out in her cunt every night. for @goodsoup19

DUBCON WARNING: reader drugs simon with sleeping pills and he wakes up handcuffed to the bed. he gave consent prior for her to use him whenever she wanted!! DUBCON WARNING. I REPEAT DUBCON WARNING!!

🩷🧁🫧🎀

It’s not like simon’s never had sex before. I mean he’s a man so of course he has needs. And lord knows he gets what he wants when he wants it. He hasn’t had sex in a bit, due to deployment and the physical therapy in between those. But this? it feels like he’s back in his 17 year old body getting head behind the market.

You took control of him. he was still the one with the upper hand, and he was definitely the dominant one, but it seemed like now you were taking what you wanted. using him for your personal gain. making him your own sex toy, your person dildo. the thought made his cock throb and his tip leak inside of you. The way you’re bouncing on his cock, slipping almost all the way off before forcing it back in had his resolve slipping away ever second.

With his hands cuffed behind him, you slowly started to regret his comment. “can’t keep yer fookin hands off me, can ya bun? desperate little thing.” he could see the fire in your eyes in that moment. and he should’ve known how this would end up.

For him being such a suspicious military man and all, he sure sucked at knowing when a pretty girl was drugging him. God, Price would chew him up and shit him out if he ever found out about this.

Simon is pulled out of his thoughts as your hand slips around his throat to squeeze the sides of his throat, slowing blood flow to his brain. the loss of oxygen making him harder and whinier. it’s everything he’s needed and gosh it’s so good.

You glance down to see tears slipping out the corner of his eyes, arching your back to lean down to lick them off his cheeks, leaving a flush of crimson on his face. he can’t help the way the blush flows down his body, and the musky sweat that starts at behind his knee caps.

you stay like that, tits pressed to his chest as you pick your hips up and down. sliding your arms under his back, right by the cuffs. you cage him in, legs locking in place to keep him inside of you. he fights the urge to cum but he can’t move!

“wait wait! b-bird you gotta ngh fuck fuck you gotta let me up!! m gonna cum in ya please please hold on!! can’t can’t ‘old it.”

He’s scared and it’s evident in his eyes. he’d love to cum in you but he knows you’ve never let him before, scared for your boundaries. he can’t hold it and he doesn’t know if you know that, too stuck in that familiar sexed up haze. but you are aware of what’s happening, almost too much. this is exactly what you want. his cum inside your belly,that warm feeling you keep hearing about. and Simon cums a lot, almost a fountain. it shoots everywhere when u give him a hand job and you want him to cum in you, right now. and simon always does as you say.

you feel him shoot milky ropes inside of you, probably nudging your cervix now. but you don’t stop. not even when he’s wailing right by your ear.

“bun, bun!! baby!!!, p-please… please just… j-just ohh! Ah, fuck, oh fuck oh fuck ! Oh, God, please! Please! too much too much!” you’re ignoring his babbling, not caring about his needs know, only wanting yours.

“aw the big bad military man can’t take it? too overstimulated?” you soothe, faux sympathy dripping with every word, but he’s too fucked out to know that. blissfully unaware, too pussydrunk. what a fucking man.

“yes baby p-please, fuck fuck bun... you you... ya gotta stop... please, c-can't... can't take it... too fucking warm too tight... y-you're killing me... shit shit, please! please, just just gimme a moment g-gimme a moment, need a minute, a a second even, please! you're holding me too tight... like a fucking cage!! needa... f-fuck, shit shit shit! there's so much... so much fucking cum... it’s your fault, fuck, please!!”

[obsessedwithceleste]

bloodonmyhands

(ex)Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ p in v, degradation

word count: 528

A moan escapes your lips as Mattheo slams back into you, fingers digging into your hips, keeping you in place as your back arches in response to his wild thrusts.

“What’s the matter love? Haven’t had a proper fuck since you left me for Potter? Golden boy can’t satisfy you?” Mattheo hisses into your ear, hands now exploring every inch of your body that he already knew so well.

Every touch and brush of his finger tips was like an electric shock on your skin. The ache and anticipation building rapidly with each brutal caress.

“Didn’t leave you, you- told me to go,” you stammer out as the boy continues to pound into your soaking cunt mercilessly.

“Yet here you are, little whore came right back to my cock didn’t you?” Mattheo’s fingers find your sensitive clit, giving it a flick as you let out another moan. “Didn’t you?” He asks again, pulling his throbbing cock out and looking down at the mess he’d made of you.

It was hard to imagine there had been a point where the boy looming over you had begged for your time.

“Yes,” you breathe out, barely able to catch your breath before he’s slamming back into you at a relentless pace, admiring the bulge in your lower abdomen.

“Good girl, you wanted this didn’t you? I saw the way you were out there dancing with Potter,” he sneers, but you can barely register the words coming out of Mattheo’s mouth as the ridges of his cock scrape your walls. “Half drunk, and in that stupid little skirt. Killing me doll.”

You’d known of course, that Mattheo would be here tonight. Maybe a sick part of you had hoped he would see you walking in with Harry. His sworn enemy. Perhaps that’s why you had danced all night like you couldn’t be bothered, pretending you couldn’t feel Mattheo’s eyes boring into you all evening. Just determined to show your ex you had moved on.

“Look at me, when I fuck you,” Mattheo grunts, taking your face in his hand, forcing you to look up into his crazed, starving eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, you watch in a haze as he slowly leans down, taking one of your bare nipples in his mouth, teeth dragging across the soft flesh.

The sensation is overwhelming and you feel yourself tightening around the boy as he bites down on the sensitive flesh. You feel the familiar wave of euphoria wash over you, eyes rolling back into your head as the breathe is knocked out of you; but that doesn’t stop the boy above you.

“Matty, please,” you try to protest, raising your hands to his chest as he continues his ruthless thrusts, keeping you carefully wavering over the line between pleasure and pain.

Your words fall on deaf ears as Mattheo’s hands find their way to your knees, spreading your legs further and allowing him deeper into your core.

"You fucking thought we were over," he growls over the sound of warm skin slapping together as he pounds your juices back into you. Mattheo shakes his head.

“You can be done when I say you’re done.”

[muqingslover]

hiii, can you please share more goofy habits caleb has while sharing a bed with u 💝

[ By popular demand i'm here to share extra thoughts on Caleb's sleeping habits! Kinda of a part two to this, in case you missed! ]

-----------------------------⁠✿⁠⁠✿⁠⁠✿⁠--------------------------

Oh boy there's so much to unpack here. We all know Caleb has experienced a loooot of bad things and has not worked through them in an actual healthy way at all. He is also a master at hiding it from you, but you can get a glimpse of how damaged he truly is during bedtime.

First of all, you will rarely, if ever, catch him sleeping on an actual bed. Or sleeping at all to be honest. What Caleb does is take power naps whenever he can on his couch at the office or when he's at your place waiting for you to. The one to (partially) blame for this is his chronic insomnia. I like to believe Caleb has always been a very light sleeper and it's only gotten worse throughout the years— The sound of a door opening is enough for him to be wide wake in a matter of seconds. Trust issues anyone?

When he wakes up, if alone, his go-to activity is working out. He'll do push-ups or leave the house for a loooong late night jog, anything that will tire his body out since he's wired up. Then, he takes a freezing cold shower to reboot his system and either starts to work early or sits down to solve some calculus problems to prevent his mind from thinking about anything else since it's 98% of the time never anything good.

To add to that, the main reason as to why his insomnia is so bad is the fact he has nightmares on an almost daily basis. They're often about you in some way and he wakes up panicking about where you are, how you are, if you're with someone else, why you aren't here with him instead and if you plan on leaving him. That's why it's so crucial for Caleb that you stay somewhere he can see you whenever he needs to. Otherwise, his anxiety will gnaw at him until he just shows up unprompted on your front door in the middle of the night.

On the topic of nightmares, next thing on the list is a more...sensitive one: His reactions to nightmares that involves the abuse Caleb himself went through. I say sensitive because this man is a trained soldier and he wakes up in very high alert which, sometimes, means he might hurt you by pure reflex similar to retired war veterans.

The first time you woke up with his hands tightly wrapped around your neck you seriously thought you were a goner. The sound of your voice calling his name was fortunately enough to make him snap out of the haze he was trapped in, believing he was under the threat of the ghosts of his past and had to defend himself before it was him the one who would end up dead. You have always been his anchor, it was not a surprise that you were the only one able to pull him back even in a moment like this.

Regardless if he had been in control or not, Caleb would blame himself until his last day on this world. He wouldn't sleep (Key word being sleep because he will stay in bed with you, he just won't *sleep*) on the same bed as you anymore after this and instead spends his nights on a mattress on the floor next to you. The sight of your bruised neck and the tears in your eyes because of his hands, because of him, only serve as fuel for his nightmares. He doesn't even want to imagine what would've happened if you hadn't been able to speak loudly enough to wake him up.

"Caleb is a big spoon!!" people yell at me and I agree! However! If you want this man to have some peaceful sleep then the only way to achieve that is to have him laying on your chest where he can both listen to your steady heartbeat and feel your warmth as he holds you. Run your fingers through his hair and promise him you'll be right there when he wakes up to soothe his anxieties as much as possible and he might just sleep throughout the entire night.

Moving on to more sweet thoughts so we don't end on a bitter note— He has serious beef with the plushies you own, specifically the ones you hug to sleep. I mean, he's right here? Hello??? Why would you want to hug that fat ass bear of yours. If your plushie goes missing one day through suspicious means don't be sad because you can just cuddle him! He promises he'll behave this time!

Another silly thing is Caleb cannot keep his hands to himself when the two of you are sharing a bed. Literally. His hands have a will of their own and they must be touching you at all times in some way. That also means he will bother you by torturing tickling you non-stop until you're on the verge of tears. He loves the sound of your joyful laughter and how red your face gets while you try to escape the evil tickle monster so I'm afraid there's no way to get him to actually stop.

[bellatrixscurls]

cinnamon girl | a jegulus x reader series. pt 1

masterlist

summary : your father insisted that you be dating Rabastan Lestrange, for protection and security. But what happens when said boy wants to run away from his Death Eater duties, and a certain bespectacled boy lands him a hand, leading to something more than he could’ve ever imagined.

pairing: regulus black x malfoy!reader x james potter, initially rabastan lestrange x malfoy!reader.

specifications : 1. this will be an entire series, but please be patient with me. 2. reader is one year younger than Lucius. & 3. this series is full of surprises.

warnings : angst, fluff, swearing, eventual smut, arranged marriage, mentions of bruises and broken bones, Sirius being dramatic, eventual polyamorous relationship, death eaters, death

“Do you know what time they’ll be here tomorrow?” you ask Lucius exhaustedly, leaning your head against his shoulder as you walk together to the Slytherin dorms.

It has been a pretty long day. Your legs hurt and you want nothing more than to finally get to your dorm and pack your things for Christmas break.

He sighs and throws an arm around your neck, his own eyes closing from the endless studying he’s done these past weeks. “Eight thirty, maybe nine. I’ll have to tell Evan about that, he doesn’t really do mornings.”

You laugh weakly, finally reaching the common room as Lucius opens the door for you. You’re about to open your mouth, but are interrupted by the loud chatter of your friends.

“He did what?”

“How could he be so stupid?!”

“For Merlin’s sake, Rabastan!”

“Hey, guys. What are we cussing out Rabastan for today?” your brother falls on the sofa and you’re right behind him.

But they don’t seem to take Lucius’ amusement lightly, and you can see that when Severus stops tugging at his hair to turn to you, and so do your other friends. Their shocked expressions make you sink further into the sofa.

“He’s all bloodied up in the hospital wing right now. Apparently the idiot got into a fight with Potter and, well… Let’s just say that now he can’t move his right hand at all” Narcissa explains and your eyes widen. How could’ve James done that to him?

“From the shoulder down. Can you imagine?” Barty shakes his head and your brother, still beside you, gasps.

You throw him a dirty look before turning back to Narcissa. “Can we go see him? I think he’d want us to be there.”

“I mean, he is in a lot of pain and Madam Pomfrey said he might be there for a few days” Bellatrix chimes in, carelessly rolling her eyes as she stands up abruptly. “We could always just hex Potter, that’s something Rabastan would want.”

The raven haired boy’s eyes shoot up and lock with yours, carefully placing his book on the table. “I don’t know about that. What I do know is that I’m staying behind for Lestrange.”

“Yeah, cause that is so entertaining” Bellatrix mocks her cousin, going back to discussing hexing James.

Your frown slowly fades as you and Regulus maintain eye contact. You’ve always wondered how he could be attentive and protective of his friends, but still seem cold and uninterested all the time.

“Will you?” he asks suddenly, his demeanour still as calm as ever. You have to blink rapidly, and when you do, you swear that you can see the corner of his mouth tilt up.

“I’m- Sorry?”

“Will you stay here for the holidays? To keep Evan company” he muses, and you can tell by his tone that he is utterly amused.

“I wish. He’s my boyfriend after all” you sigh softly, chewing on your bottom lip. You hesitate at first, but still lean in closer to Regulus, so only he can hear. “But father wants me and Luce home on the 31st. He said that we have to meet someone.”

Regulus’ shoulders tense up and you notice his eyes widen a bit, but he still manages to brush it off like it’s nothing. “The 31st is still two weeks away” he inquires and you nod slowly.

“You’re right” you give him a small smile, resting your chin on your brother’s arm that was now sitting around your shoulders again. “You’re right, I’m staying here.”

The green eyed boy hums contently, picking up his book once again as he traces his pale, slender fingers over the pages. “Good.”

You’re left gawking at him, and now that his attention wasn’t solely focused on you, or so you think, you can finally relax. Even speaking a few simple words with him made you nervous, your heart throbbing against your ribcage.

🦢

Later that evening, you find yourself not able to sleep. You’re tossing and turning, and your throat suddenly feels dry.

You curse yourself for not bringing a glass of water, before you get out of bed, the cold air hitting your bare legs and shoulders. You put your slippers on and do your best to open the door without making much noise, as to not wake up your roommates.

The stairs are old and with the creaking sound they make, you’re more than certain that you managed to wake up someone. The common room was dimly lit, and that mostly thanks to the fireplace.

“Can’t sleep?”

Your eyes widen as you clutch your chest, breathing heavy and alert, but the fear quickly dissolves when you catch sight of Regulus.

“Why would you do that?” you scoff, but still feel your cheeks burn, now very aware of his eyes on you. You’re almost bare, your pajamas doing very little to cover you.

He laughs quietly and your chest fills with ease. “And I didn’t even try” he sets his glass of water on the table, resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he turns to get a better look at you. “You seem troubled.”

Regulus, always most observant. Damn him.

You sigh, walking toward the couch and plopping down next to him. “I’m just confused. I mean, Rabastan has a big mouth and sometimes that gets him weeks worth of detention. But he never gets… beaten up” you scrunch your nose, the words leaving a bitter taste on your tongue.

He nods, as if understanding why you’re worried. “I didn’t take Potter as one to break someone’s face either.”

“Exactly!” you beam for a moment, having been dismissed and laughed at by your brother earlier when you told him just that. “He’s been my partner in Potions since third year. The guy teared up when he saw some mosquito wings and I had to listen to his whole theory about how the mosquito must’ve had a family and they’re probably waiting for him.”

This makes Regulus laugh out loud, his hands covering his face as you sip your water, barely able to control your laughter yourself. “Tell me about it. He sits in front of me in Transfiguration. He turned Tammy Smith’s hair elastic into a ginger cat. It chewed on her hair and even scratched her scalp. Her hair hasn’t grown in that spot, and she has to wear a ponytail everyday. It’s been four months.”

“Right?! When I asked her why she refuses to wear her hair down anymore, she just glared at me” you giggle quietly, now feeling a little bad for her.

A comfortable silence settles between you two, and Regulus speaks softly after a while. “Someone should talk to James about it. I heard he’s in the hospital wing too.”

“Is he?” your bottom lip juts out slightly, and you look up at Regulus. “You’re right, someone should talk to him.”

He chuckles lowly, “I meant you.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Oh, come on” he draws out, his lips pursing, as if he’s trying to bit back a smile, or worse, a smirk. “He’s fond of you. You can’t tell me you didn’t know that.”

You hope that he’s joking, but when you look at him, searching his face for any sign of a joke, he’s serious. And it makes you wonder : Is James Potter actually fond of you?

“I think he’s just intrigued about us. I mean, Sirius barely lets us come near him. I can’t tell you how it’s like to brew potions whilst his eyes burn holes in the back of my head” you say, and in all fairness, that’s how it is.

James is a sweet, gentle guy, one that you would like to get to know better, but you just can’t. And it seems as though Regulus finds great pleasure in teasing you about it.

“You might be right” he shrugs, still not very convinced. He picks up his glass and stands up, walking toward the boys’ dormitories. He reaches the end of the stairs and comes to a halt, looking carefully over his shoulder, his words merely a whisper into the night. “Sirius leaves for about twenty minutes at lunch every day, in case you reconsider it.”

🦢

Your clock reads 11:01 o’clock when you finally gather the courage to leave your dormitory, heading straight toward the hospital wing. You’ve told no one, but deep down you know that Regulus is right. He needs to know that not all of you want to hex him for whatever it is he did to your boyfriend.

You finally reach the door and take a deep breath before slowly pushing it open. You figure Sirius should be gone by now.

The beds were empty, except for James’ and a sleeping Rabastan. You thank Merlin that he’s asleep.

“Y/n?” James calls your name, his voice hoarse and brows furrowed. Of course he didn’t expect to see you here.

“In the flesh” you force a tight lipped smile as you sit on the chair by his bed. His leg is bandaged, but other than that he seems just fine. “I didn’t know James Potter could fight.”

Your comment makes him smirk, “There’s a lot you don’t know about him. Heard he’s a pretty cool guy, doesn’t really pick fights either.”

Him talking about himself in third person makes you roll your eyes fondly, shaking your head. “I might not know this James very well, but I sure know who will pick up a fight if he feels like it” you sigh and look to Rabastan still sleeping peacefully, his bed just across from James’. “What did he say?”

His face flashes with something you can’t quite put your finger on, but he makes sure to ground himself, his signature smirk returning to his face. “He’s just got a beatable face.”

Your shoulders drop and James sighs defeatedly. Of course you wouldn’t give in just like that. “Fine, he got into an argument with Pa- Sirius. Mean things were said, he tried to hurt Sirius, so I had no choice.”

Liar. You don’t know much about James Potter, but what you do know is that he would never slap someone, let alone put them in the hospital.

You huff a laugh, eyes meeting his for the second time. “What did he say?”

“Oh- Well, now- Let’s just keep it at that” he says with a small smile, a very uncomfortable one at that. “You should go, though. My friends will be back any minute.”

You can’t help the scoff that escapes your mouth. He thinks that he can just lie through his teeth and then dismiss you like you’re stupid? You don’t want to give him that satisfaction.

You don’t say more though, and that leaves James with a heavy heart. You move nonchalantly, sitting in a similar chair, but now by Rabastan’s bed.

You did have a chance to say something, to snap at him or persuade him. But you didn’t.

It could get way more interesting than that.

[be-xkyy]

Hiii! Could you do another yan platonic son imagine pls

𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝑌𝑎𝑛! 𝐿𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑆𝑜𝑛

Warning: platonic yandere, possessive, jealous, crying, a little cute?, mentions of childbirth, newborn baby, pregnancy symptoms, this is PLATONIC.

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★ @minshookie29 ★ @rosey1981 ★ @thejadevvitch ★ @jellystar-star ★

Divider credits: @cafekitsune ★ @bernardsbendystraws ★

Part 1

Yan! Little Son who's become the most clingy to you since he found out about your pregnancy and his new future "little brother" or "little sister."

Yan! Little Son who is always hugging you and kissing your cheeks and telling you how much he loves you soooo much and a bright smile appears on his little face when you tell him you love him back.

Yan! Little Son who always cries and hugs you worriedly when you feel dizzy or vomit because of pregnancy symptoms, his little hands grab your shirt and he looks at you with big tearful eyes.

"Are you going to die, Mommy?! Please don't die!"

"Oh... I'm not going to die my dear, it's just your little brother or little sister being a little fussy with Mommy."

"Why does he do that?! He makes you sick and cry! Tell him to stop!"

Yan! Little Son who tries to help you as much as he can as your belly gets bigger; he brings you juice when you're thirsty, takes the remote from his dad so you can watch TV, and brings you ice cream from the fridge to eat while you watch TV (he ends up eating more than you).

Yan! Little Son who rests his little head against your swollen belly, giving you kisses on your belly (he clarifies that they are for you and not for the baby) while you play with his hair, twirling the strands in your fingers.

Yan! Little Son who, at night when you and his father are asleep, takes the opportunity to talk to the baby; he rests his mouth on your belly, covered by your silk pajama, and speaks in a low murmur so as not to wake you.

"Listen kid, you don't like me and I don't like you, okay? But I promise to tolerate you a little if you stop making mommy sick and if you let her sleep, she's really tired, you know? Oh! Also, stop making her eat ice cream with pickles! It's disgusting"

Yan! Little Son who gets upset when your third trimester approaches and you start preparing your things and the baby's things to take to the hospital, he insists on wanting to go with you to the hospital and pouts when you tell him he can't go with you.

Yan! Little Son who gets excited when his paternal grandmother comes to live at the house (to take care of him when you have to go to the hospital) he eats cookies, watches her knit and enjoys the pampering and gifts she brings him.

Yan! Little Son who wakes up one night when you breathe heavily, inhaling and exhaling forcefully you let out a scream of pain that makes he shouts worriedly at his father, pulling his hair hard, respecting him with a jump.

Yan! Little Son who moves worriedly on the verge of tears when you let out whimpers of pain and his father comforts you before shouting to the grandmother who comes to the room and when she sees the situation she takes him away despite his screams and struggles.

"No! Let me go, Nana! I want to go to my mommy!!! She needs me! Moooommy!"

Yan! Little Son who remains upset and cannot sleep despite his grandmother trying to lull him to sleep, he sobs almost the entire night until he inevitably falls asleep from exhaustion, the next morning his grandmother wakes him up, bathes him and dresses him with a smile telling him that she is going to the hospital to meet his little brother.

Yan! Little Son who when he arrives at the hospital holding his grandmother's hand, impatiently leads her to the reception asking for you and when they give him the room number, he pulls his grandmother telling her to hurry.

Yan! Little Son who when he arrives to your room does not hesitate to take his grandmother's hand and push the door, quickly entering the room, you are lying in bed with his father sitting next to you while you hold a bundle in your arms, he approaches timidly when you call him.

Yan! Little Son who lets his father lift him up and sit him on his lap while you tell him to bend down to see his new little brother, he slowly obeys his eyes scanning the red baby who is vigorously breastfeeding at your breast.

"He's very ugly, he looks like a hairless rat. I don't like him."

"Oh! My son, don't say that about your little brother!"

"You were just as ugly, or I think even uglier than him, when you were born, son. 👀"

"It wasn't! Mommy, tell Dad something!"

Yan! Little Son who starts arguing with his father until you calm them both down and ask him if he wants to hold his brother; he reluctantly agrees, and you take the baby away from your chest and place the tiny bundle in his tiny arms. He looks down at the baby, who smiles happily at him.

"Why are you smiling..? Uhm... maybe it's not so bad to have you around, but be good to mom or we'll give you to another family... okay?"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Can't Have One Without the Other 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your marriage is on the rocks.

Note: I asked about husbands and all your hoes said Bucky (with a few Sy’s in the middle). I wasn’t intending on a whole series but I thnk it would be fun to have husband!Bucky turn a bit desperate.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

After you clean up the mess, you stay in your office. Bucky is stubborn. He's not going to run away. No, you hear him searching the house for what doesn't exist.

You finish the panels. You don't feel accomplished. You shut off your tablet but linger at your desk. You find some courage and get up.

You go into the kitchen quietly and do your best not to make noise. It doesn't matter, you know he can hear you. You take out the steak and rub some spice into it. It's easier than the marinade.

You set to quartering potatoes for a max, the starch sticking to your skin. You rinse off and check the green beans. They'll do.

"Is that your apology?" Bucky asks.

You dump the potatoes from the cutting board to the boiling water. You set the board down and face him. You frown.

"You really believe it?" You murmur.

"I don't know what to believe," he tilts his head, leaning on the door frame, a hand on his hip.

Your cheek twitches and you touch it, stilling the nervous tic. You repeal your hand and hide it behind you.

"I didn't. I know you know I'm telling the truth. You can hear it." 

He narrows his eyes, "maybe you didn't follow through, but you know, going out, flirting, it's all the same--"

"I wasn't flirting," you insist. "I'm not that type. Bucky," you set your feet. "Shouldn't I be mad you ignored my calls?"

"While I'm out there fighting off the bad guys? I can't always get to the phone," he struts across the kitchen.

"You could text me between all that," you insist.

"Got a lot on my mind when I'm out there. Now I'm gonna be worried about you and the bike jockey--"

"Really?" You grimace.

"I married you for a reason, didn't I? Why wouldn't another guy try it? Seeing you without your ring on..."

"I told you, I forgot."

"Yeah, forgot about me," he accuses.

You shake your head. You show your palms in exasperation and turn away. There's nothing you can say, nothing but what he wants to hear.

"I'm sorry about the rings. I really am. It wasn't on purpose but I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I didn't kiss you, I'm sorry I'm out of it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm... sorry I'm not good enough," You drop your arms and shrug. "I'm sorry I'm not patient or strong."

You turn your back to him and grab a wooden spoon to stir the potatoes. He sighs. It blows over you like a winter draft.

"I never said any of that--"

"You accused me of cheating," you tense. "You thought all of it."

"Christ, I'm trying to talk to you."

"Then say it, Bucky. Say what you want from me because I can't read your mind," you put the spoon down and grab the waiting skillet. "I haven't talked to you in over a month and I'm supposed to just act like nothing. I'm supposed to be okay." You slam the pan down, "I'm not okay."

"Baby--"

"Don't baby, me," you warn as you move down the counter to toss the beans in seasoning.

He nears and you go rigid. You ignore him as he gets close. He stretches his arm past you and grips the counter. He pushes himself against your back.

He nuzzles the back of your head, "I missed you. I really did. Can you blame me for getting... jealous? I got the greatest gal in the world waiting for me and I come back to see her with another guy--"

"I wasn't with him," you drone.

"Please, I'm sorry," he coaxes as his breath puffs over your scalp.

You inhale and stare at the wall, "for what?"

"For... for hurting you."

"How?" You rasp. "Tell me how you hurt me."

"Why are you doing this? I'm apologising," he clucks.

You frown, "alright, Bucky. I gotta finish up here."

He's quiet. He drags his hands off the counter and grips your hips. You wince and stop him, wavering on your feet.

"It's just nice to touch you," he growls.

"Bucky," you cringe as he kneads the extra flesh.

"You feel so good," he pushes against your ass.

"I can't. The potatoes," you shove his wrists.

"Let them burn," he slithers.

There's something there. That flicker inside. The one that wants him. It's dulled by the thought of him seeing you. The reality of what you've become. The idea of him seeing all of you makes you sick.

"That's..." you touch his hand. "Let me," you face him and force a smile. "Alright?"

"Baby, I wanna--"

"Shhh," you press a finger to his lips. His eyes flash. How can he look at you like that? Like you're not repulsive.

Because it's been a month. Because he's desperate. It's not you he wants, he just needs relief.

You slip your hand to his chest, your other along his pants. You taste pile as you unzip him. He shivers. You push your hand down his boxers and grip him. He squeezes your hip and grabs your head. He pulls you closer and presses his lips to your forehead.

He puffs as you stroke him. You stare at the top of his chest. 

It doesn't take long. He quakes and grunts, and spills inside his pants. It spears onto your fingers and palm. 

You pull your hand free as he cups your chin. He brings your head up and kisses you on the lips. You move your mouth with his, mimicking him, and he hums.

He parts and smiles. He pets your cheek and clears his throat as he backs away. You quickly turn away, your hand growing sticky.

"So, I'll finish dinner..." you say as you wash him off.

"I'm more concerned with dessert," he chuckles.

You wonder if he can hear your disgust. Not with him, but yourself. Can he sense your apathy even? Does he care? Why should he? He always gets what he wants.