#and the little dimples in the corner of his mouth!! and his pretty eyebrows!!

[i-like-loserz]

mommy & daddy

synopsis: you come home from a girl's night out feeling extra needy for your boyfriend

pairing: san x afab!reader

warnings: SMUT, tipsy!reader, dom!san, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cockwarming, size kink, usage of mommy/daddy, choking, pet-names, degrading words (slut, whore), hair-pulling, somnophilia elements at the end (but it's sweet)

word count: 2.7k

masterlist

Calming classical music hums in the background as his eyes scan down the page. His slightly calloused fingers idly rub at the folded corner at the top of the book, gently smoothing it out before bending it once more. His motion to flip to the next page is interrupted by the muffled sound of jingling keys and the creak of the front door opening. 

San looks up from his book and spots you as you walk in, coat and purse hanging over your arm with your heels in hand. His eyes darken as you hang up your coat, appreciating the little outfit you went out in.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His husky voice rumbles through the room, deep and luxurious, dripping from his lips like molten chocolate. 

When you turn around, your eyes find him under the soft glow of the reading lamp. He looks so handsome in the armchair, sitting so magnetically with his legs invitingly spread open. 

“…Hi, Sannie.” You say sweetly, already enamored by his stupidly gorgeous face. You place your bag on the counter behind you before shuffling over to him with bashful steps. San can tell by the adorable flush on your cheeks that you’ve had a few drinks already.

An amused smirk rests on his lips as you innocently approach him with a certain sway in your hips. Obviously you have something on your mind.

His smile reveals those adorable dimples that have your eyes glazed with lust and lips bitten to a delicious shade of pink. Based on your obedient silence, you’re already halfway there for him. 

He’s noticed that you get especially needy when you’re drunk. Something about your fruity cocktails pushes you to give in to every shielded thought and desire – to give into him without hesitation.

Usually you’re shy when it comes to sex, rarely initiating anything without a little bit of help, but god it spurs him on when you try. 

—

“Have a good time?” 

You hum dreamily as you climb onto his lap, feeling small as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull you on top of him. 

You’ve always had an insatiable appetite for your boyfriend, but after the few cocktails you treated yourself to this evening, your body indecently craves him. Thoughts of his hand wrapped around your neck as he ruts into you have been streaming through your mind all night. 

You need to feel him stretching you out as he presses your thighs to your chest, locking you in a mating press to force you to feel all of him slipping into you. You need to feel the warmth of him filling you up when he’s done, marking you as his before watching it all drip out between your hot bodies. 

Your hands brush over his jaw as you cradle his face, eyes locked on the small smile quirked at the corners of his mouth. 

“You look real pretty in this dress, sweetheart.” His voice is low as his thumb lightly skims over the warm skin of your thigh. You attempt to pull him in by his neck, eyes fluttering closed as you anticipate a kiss, but he pulls away before your lips could meet. San’s head tilts to the side teasingly, expression feigning ignorance. “What do you think you’re doing, baby?” 

You can only stare back as the heat of embarrassment pricks at the back of your neck. 

“Wha–I just want a kiss…” You mumble, shifting your body to nuzzle deeper into his warmth. You try again, this time trailing soft kisses up his neck and over his jaw. But once again, as soon as your lips start to graze his, he pulls back with a glimmer in his eyes.

Your eyebrows furrow in frustration, “Sannie!”

You can feel the warmth of his breath tease at the sensitive skin of your throat. 

“You're drunk, baby, I can’t take advantage of you like this…” His actions contradict his whispered words as he plants a few sparse kisses along your collarbone.

“No, please, I’m not! Just two drinks, daddy. I promise.” His breathing gets heavier when you whine out his special name and you feel the air change between you.

You desperately grab at his wrists, attempting to entice him by placing his hands on your hips, but he barely reacts and lets them fall to his side. 

Fine, you’ll have to take this into your own hands. 

“I want you to, uhm,” Your tongue glides over your bottom lip as your eyes nervously wander down over his chest, “be inside of me—please.”

“And why would I do that, sweet girl?”

You sputter, not expecting him to show any resistance, especially because of the way he’s been looking at you for the last ten minutes.

“I need you...” There’s an intensity in your eyes that he has rarely seen, there’s something you've been keeping from him. Something you need. 

He decides to push you a little harder, and figure out exactly what it is. 

He pushes a large hand up your thighs and under your dress. The fabric bunches against his wrist as he feels over your stomach and squeezes over your tits. 

“What’s making my little baby act all pathetic and needy, hm?” 

You cower under his arrogant stare as your cunt pulses at his degrading words. You lean into him as his thumb swipes over your hardened nub, trembling as he sends jolts of pleasure to your center.

An eyebrow lifts with impatience as he captures your nipple in between his fingers and gives it a harsh pinch, “Spit it out.” 

“I-I want you to fill me up, daddy.” He hums in response, letting go of your bud to soothe it with his thumb. Your breath stutters when you feel the roughness of his hand drag over your chest to caress your other tit. With a quieter voice you continue, “Want you to make me a mommy…” 

There’s an instant tightness in his pants as his cock twitches excitedly against the material. How can he refuse an offer like that?

He could only imagine how you’d look all swollen and soft–for his eyes only. It’s no secret that San wants to fuck a baby into you, but you’ve never specifically asked for it before. Not like this.

He runs his nails down the softness of your stomach, watching as your back arches against his touch. He nuzzles his face into your covered chest as it’s pushed against him, breathing in your mouth-watering scent.

His erection pulses against your butt as he imagines how big they’ll get, all leaky and tender as your body adjusts to feed his baby. You sigh as he dots small nips over your exposed skin, pausing to suck at the edge of your jaw until you start whimpering. 

His hand lightly skims over your hips before dipping into your panties. He groans at the feeling, “Such a naughty little pussy, mommy.” Your eyes threaten to roll to the back of your head when you hear the name drip from his tongue. Your walls clench around nothing, sending another flood of slick over his hand. “Slutty little girl, soaking my fingers just at the thought of being bred.”

You can hear the squelching noise of your wet heat as he dips into you. He plunges his fingers deep inside of you, hitting your sweet spot with thrusts that are too gentle to even start to placate you.

He pulls his fingers out and spreads your slick over your folds, uncaring of the way it drips down your thighs, his pants, and the seat of the armchair.

“You’re making a damn mess, baby. Gonna ruin my pants.” A firm press to your pulsing clit makes you jolt in surprise, body already hypersensitized from his touch. 

He slowly slips his hand out of your underwear, watching as his fingers trail slick along with them. He traces over your lips with the glistening fingertips, admiring your mouth as he spreads your heat over your face.

“Open up.” San lets out a growled sigh as your lips obediently wrap around his fingers, sucking in the heady taste of your lust. 

You roll your hips over him, feeling the thickness of his cock straining under his pants. You whimper around his fingers as you angle yourself to nudge perfectly against your clit, hips speeding up as heat quickly begins to build in your stomach.

You’re beautiful as you work yourself over him, tongue cleaning up your mess as you rut your covered cunt against him. 

His hand drops from your lips, shiny with spit, to firmly grip your jaw and pull you in. His nose briefly bumps into you before he smashes his lips against yours. You respond instantly, kissing him with desperation, lips easily slotting against his.

The sweetness of your fruity cocktails meet his spiced whiskey as your tongues glide against each other. The kiss draws your breath away from its immediate intensity as you move sloppily to taste each other as deeply as possible.

When you pull away for a short breath, he pushes you down his lap to shove his clothes off, making haste to unbutton and discard his pants and boxers in one go.

He takes a bit more time to shuck off his shirt, making you watch patiently as his perfectly sculpted body is exposed to the room. He’s built like a god, muscular and lithe. You’d spend the rest of your life worshiping his body with faint touches and kisses if you could. 

His breath is labored, chest rising deeply under you as his cock rests against his toned stomach, throbbing handsomely under your hungry gaze. Your mouth waters and you’re sure you’ve never wanted to taste something more.

But before you can crawl off his lap to kneel under him, he pulls you back over him with a hand on your waist before capturing your mouth with another kiss.

You rest your weight on his bare lap, savoring the feeling of his body heat against yours. You finally feel him start to melt against you, kiss you back with just as much fervor and love. 

His tongue teasingly runs over the edge of your bottom lip, trailing a line over the delicate skin before pushing further against your mouth. He boldly licks into your mouth to taste you, tickling the roof of your mouth before laving passionately against yours. 

You drag your hips over his lap, barely covered, and press flush against his hard cock. You can feel him throbbing under you, insistently pressing against the wetness of your panties.

His hands tighten around your waist when you run your nails over his broad chest and up the back of his neck, tenderly threading them through his hair. 

With a swift motion, he shoves the top of your dress down enough to bare your chest to him. You tug feverishly on the ends of his hair as he dips down to lave his tongue against your puckered nipple. The wet heat of his lips captures your bud and suckles harshly until your back arches in ecstasy. 

You shove your underwear to the side and position him at your entrance, stroking his tip through your dripping folds to get him nice and slick.  Slowly, you sit yourself on his cock, gasping at the feeling of him stretching you open. “Mm…San-“

You yelp as his hand comes up behind you and grips your hair, roughly pulling your head back with a quick tug, “Hm…What was that?” His voice is gruff as your body trembles over him, legs shaking as you struggle to take all of him in one go. 

“D-Daddy.”

“That's what I thought.” Your cunt is already fluttering around him as you preen at how full you feel. As his grip loosens, you experimentally start to roll against him, letting your cunt try to suck him in as you rise before pushing back down on him with a quick drop of your hips. 

He feels so good in this position, nudging right against your g-spot with every bounce of your ass. You ride him slowly and delicately, legs already shaking from the intensity of having him buried inside of you. Your hands grip harshly over his shoulders as you’re forced to stutter out every breath with each drag of his cock. He’s just so big.

Quiet moans spill from your lips as you attempt to speed up. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to chase the heat bubbling up in your stomach.

Another tug to your hair makes your hips stutter, but the pain is washed out by the exquisite feeling of his cock prodding against the deepest part of you. 

You gently open your eyes and he’s staring right back, gaze half-lidded as he watches you ride him. You hold the stare as you continue to grind against him, admiring the way his body tenses as he tries to control himself. 

You whine as the slick sound of your connection fills the living room, “Ahh–I need your cum, daddy.” 

Suddenly, his hand moves to wrap around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you squeal as he roughly shoves his hips upward to bury himself even deeper inside of you. A pathetic moan is pounded out of you as he pushes you harder onto his cock. 

“Fuck—you want me to put a baby in you? Y’wanna be a mommy, hm?” Your hands wrap around his wrist as he continues to hold you by the neck, partially using it for support as your back arches to alter the angle of his thrusts. 

“Please—“ You choke back a sob as he starts to vigorously pound up into you, hitting a breathless spot in you until you go boneless. Your vision blurs as your eyes well up with tears at the intensity, “—Ahhh” 

His jaw is clenched tight as he watches you lose control above him, “like that baby? You gonna cum for me?”

Your mind is frantic as you rapidly reach the edge, “Yes daddy, please, breed me…make me yours.” Your voice rasps out as his grip tightens, throat struggling to swallow down breaths.

Built up tears spill down your face as warmth spreads over your body from your center. All your senses numb as your body is slammed with pleasure and stimulation. You vaguely feel the warmth of his body against yours as you tremble over him. 

San lets out a strangled groan as you flutter around him, his cock pulsates against your walls as you fall apart. Your cunt milks every drop of  him as he fucks a few more thrusts up into your tired body. You hum as he comes down from his high, soothing a hand over his bare chest as he softens inside of you.

—

You slouch over him, snuggling your face into the crook of his neck as your breaths slow down. He’s still inside of you as he patiently waits for you to fall asleep. He holds you protectively against him, chest against yours, running a hand over your mussed hair and sweat-sticked neck.

He carefully picks you up with your arms wrapped around his shoulders and walks to your bedroom, leaving the pile of clothes in the living room to clean up tomorrow. He turns on his bedside lamp after he delicately places you on the bed, lighting the room with a soft glow. 

San fully removes your dress and sticky panties to make you more comfortable as you sleep, ensuring to go slow so you don’t wake up. He lovingly pushes your hair out of your face as you snooze peacefully over the covers, caressing your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

With a soft sigh, you push your face further into the pillow and stretch your legs out. He doesn’t mean to look, but he notices that you’re dripping onto the sheets, leaving a dark mark of slickened material under your legs. 

With a gentle motion, he pushes your legs apart and gingerly brushes two fingers against you, collecting the leaking cum before pushing it back in. You moan at his tender touch, legs squeezing around him as you unconsciously whine for more.

He ignores your wanton reaction and pulls his hand away. He slides into bed behind you with a sigh and reaches over to place his hand protectively against your stomach. 

Gently, he nudges his nose against the back of your neck and whispers against your skin, “You’re gonna be the best mommy, sweetheart.”

He can only hope you meant what you said because it really is his dream. 

Sometime during the night, your smaller hand finds its way over his, cradling instinctively over your stomach.

[mediocreinternetuser]

thinking abt how pretty dean was in the earlier seasons..! not that he worsened with age but, as i’ve said before, the lesbianism i’ve been cursed with loved how lowkey androgynous he looked. like he went straight from masc lesbian to lumberjack dilf—how versatile—but dilf dean is 4 the man lovrz & masc lesbian dean is for the rest of us

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, soft dom nanami, praise, p in v, mdni.

husband nanami was a patient man. he treated you like glass, so delicate—he didn’t want to ever break you. with something as passionate as intimacy though, he made sure to go slow and take his precious time with you. after all, you were his baby. yet, there’d be one time where you ask for him to be a bit more rough. just a little, he playfully raises a eyebrow at you before swiping a thumb underneath your chin. “go r…rougher?” and his words were a mere sweet whisper.

“y- yes, ‘s okay, ‘ken,” you’d nod with a tiny tremor in your voice. as he’s giving you slow, deep strokes, the heel of your foot sensually rubs down against his back. pulling him closer to you, you coat the edge of his twitching pink lips with chaste kisses. “i can handle it, promise.”

“okay, sweetheart,” a soft, genuine smile pulls against the crevices of his mouth before he returns the kissing gesture, a candied mwah. grabbing your knees, he gently moves them up toward your jostling chest. “you’re so perfect,” he groans, hearing each lewd moan elicit out of your throat like it was nothing. “mhm, hold my hand. good girl,” he breathes, his sloppy hits against your core starting to quicken and you bite your lip. in a heaving voice, he buries his face into your neck. a strong musk of cologne wafting against your nostrils. “if you want me to go rougher, i’ll go rougher, my love. just for you.”

his pace was swift and gentle—mahogany colored irises of his continue to pour into your gaze. nanami feels his heart flutter once your arms wrap around him, pulling him close. with a single arm, you drag him further into you, another hand squeezing onto his. masses of fingers intertwine between each other as you moan from his touch. with nanami accelerating in a more quick pace, he presses a kiss against the bridge of your nose.

“t- this . . alright, sweetheart?” he asks in a soothing tone, an eyebrow entwining as he meets your loving stare. god, you were just so beautiful like this underneath him. he could stare at you all day and not get bored of your beauty right in front of him. “not going too hard, am i?”

“yes, ‘s good, baby.” you nod, feeling his grip against your left hand tighten just a bit more.

with a concise sharp piston of his hips, he’s more forward and he sibilates a groaning grunt the second he feels your soddened walls grip against him in such a compressing way. as if you thought you were clingy with nanami—your pussy was even greedier, hugging tightly onto his shaft as if you never wanted to let go. granted, you didn’t.

not now, not ever..

as you depart your fingers from his, you start to feel up against nanami’s bulky arm as he’s repeatedly jerking into you. he’s panting, blond strands of hair run down his face and he has to constantly shift his head back so he can look at you. he relishes in your cute expressions—his favorite part of intimacy was to just stare into those pretty eyes of yours that successfully captured his heart.

you moan again, your hand trailing down against the veins near his arms—he’s so beefy. your fingers then reach near his wrist. clammy digits of yours ghost against the frigid texture of his pricey g-shock that swaddles around his wrist. the watch’s been broken for years, but it was a gift from you so he still proudly wears it. flaunting it with a sweet smile on his face everytime.

“f- fuuuck,” you start to babble, feeling his twitching cock continue to pump you full of staggering inches. your ankles rub all against the outer sides of his back to where it almost tickles him. nanami’s moaning right with you—hot chest pressing up against yours. skin ruthlessly slapping so loud that it’s reverb echoes throughout the entire room. it’s like a song of its own, the bed chimes in to pitch a few notes as well from the constant melodic creaking. “don’t stop, kento. ‘s good, i love you.”

“sweetheart,” he inhales a sharp breath, dimples poking against the corners of his mouth. you’re so whiney, he grips against the fat of your thighs with a single hand before you feel him still bottoming out from the inside. “oh, dear. mhm, you drive me crazy, you know that?” and his voice was lighthearted, he was still moaning himself before he’s still stretching your walls out in the process. as his chest heaves, nanami presses a long, adoring kiss against your lips before he cups your chin. “i love you too. more than you could ever know..”

[anantaru]

aventurine smut headcanons pretty please miss yoru <333

cw. [ex]plicit, dom aventurine, rough, a little filthy, fem! reader

a/n. i couldn't stop typing aaaa I love this man, he is so attractive guys giggles

without dissembling the obvious, aventurine was crazy, because he could go on for hours and hours if you wanted him to, always seeking for more.

he was insatiable, uncontrollable when he first sinks himself into your heat and moans out embarrassingly loud to show you what exactly you're doing to him.

his head falls back when you watch him gulp down the assembled saliva in his mouth, his adams apple jostling as he presses his slicked cock back into you, greedily stuffing you full.

this time, it's faster, weaved in need, and aventurine tends to ask you too, wants to know if it feels good as you nod at him weakly, arching your back just enough to keep his cock slotted where it was while sensations race back through your quivering skin.

you were swarmed on how good it felt, speechless as your mouth hangs open the moment he finds a good pace for the both of you, thrusting deep and deep and deep into you, claiming you with the thickness of his girth.

"show me how much of a messy girl you are," only aventurine could say something this filthy with a casualness in utter contrast, particularly while placing his hands under your hips to arch you the way he had found to be the most immaculate— so he can feel you tighten, wrap and suck on his shaft with your warm, wet cunt engulfing him fully.

"f-faster," you babble, "go faster," and he chuckles at your sweet eagerness, "surely that's what you need, sweetheart?"  as he raises an eyebrow before burying his face into your hair, a groan ruminating over the thin layer of skin on your neck as he does exactly what you told him to do.

and remember, he was seriously crazy, his cock remorselessly whacking your insides, rubbing without surcease over your sore walls like he knows you needed him to.

messes of spit ooze down each corner of your mouth as you're being practically thrown back and forth the bed, your jaw slacked open as you attempt to moan out something, anything would do, but the continuous blows and pressures on your pussy had suddenly taken over your bodily functions.

"you're close, i can feel it," aventurine slurs messily into your mouth before lapping through your lips with his tongue. he did it so eagerly he almost missed and hit your chin a little, the notable, coarse sounds of your pussy being filled and pleasured adding to the sensation.

"i just need you to hang on, yeah?" the wanton knots in your lower stomach untwisted a whole lot quicker than he'd originally expect them to, but undoubtedly, he doesn't mind watching the fruits of his labor glow into a flowering fancy.

who would've thought that aventurine would make you cum that fast? naturally, he did. he expected it.

that's all that can happen when you take into account just how thick his girth would push through each crevice of your walls, at once and immediate— his temperate shaft crossing your creamy walls like he was trying to corrupt you.

pop, and the knots in your stomach begin to explode, and all you can do was cry out through a strained jaw when he fucks you through it, your addicting juices gushing over his shaft and pelvis, filthily dribbling down his balls as you claim him with your arousal, the white substance clinging on his skin like the sweetest, stickiest honey.

"oh my," he sighs dreamily, "you're way too generous, dear," a satisfied grin glittering over the small dimples on his cheeks.

such excess of your fluids have certainly hugged his ego tight, aventurine will make sure to never forget savoring this moment even in his memories and dreams.

the sheer feeling of his hands meeting your body brought forth additional sparks of emotions that pressed to the surface of your skin, changing the temperature of your complete frame.

your pussy squelches and throbs around him obscenely loud, the only reason for it being just how helplessly wet he made you in this short period, granted that you knew that he'd fuck you the entire night if you so desired it.

and oh, how well he fucked you, how desperately he massages your juices over your walls like he saw it as a sick challenge to unravel you faster each time.

hot to his movements, you tiredly wrap your arms around him while laying all but spent against the bed— but aventurine doesn't stop here, while naturally, his thrusts had switched into deep grinds instead, a level slower, but still being able to feel up your staggeringly hot splotches.

for one searing, hot second, he listens to your tremulous heaves. his hand slides from your hips to your face as to drag his thumb over the tears coated cheeks, holding you delicately in clear contrast to his rough demeanor in bed.

"you're so pretty, fuck, so damn pretty," aventurine spills his deep feelings for you into this, into the jellylike utterance of his words— and do not misunderstand, because he was still crazy, touch starved of you.

but now, his touch was tender, cushiony as how you'd imagine clouds to be.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[illyrianbitch]

Pretty Little Shadowsinger

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Based off this request: I want something silly, like there’s just no explanation given. Cassian walks in on reader dressing Az in one of her dresses or something and Cassian is just like 👈🧍‍♂️😳😏😍

Warnings: fluff, just them all being a lil silly, az in a dress, mentions of boobies and swearing

Word Count: 1.3k

a/n: me making "drabbles" over 1k, also not fully edited so squint at any mistakes and pretend they arent there <3

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“Oh my gods,” you gushed, bringing your hands up to your face. “Look at you. Such a pretty little shadowsinger.”

Azriel tried to maintain his usual stone-faced demeanor, but a faint blush crept onto his cheeks despite his best efforts. He was suppressing back a smile, too. Not because he particularly loved the situation he was in, but because of how giddy you had been for the past hour as you shoved him in many of your countless dresses. The one he wore now was itchy and uncomfortably loose, and he felt a draft that he wasn't accustomed to. But he endured it, solely because of the joy it brought you.

Azriel raised an eyebrow skeptically, his lips twitching with the effort not to smile. “Uh huh.”

"Aw, c'mon," you insisted, stepping closer to him. "It really brings out your figure."

You maneuvered yourself between his wings, wrapping your arms around his torso and guiding him to look at the mirror. Balancing yourself on your tiptoes, you peeked over his shoulder to make eye contact with him. His shadows followed the movement, a dark mass now clustered above his other shoulder as if they, too, were watching in amusement.

He glanced at his reflection with a scrunched face. He’d seen this dress on you multiple times, had complimented you on the beautiful blue of it— one that perfectly matched his siphons. Had even ripped it off after events in an attempt to ravage you as soon as he could— that later fact felt slightly strange now considering he was the one wearing it. The dress in front of him, however, was quite frankly the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. Azriel realized now, more than ever, that the female truly did make the dress. But then again, you were the most gorgeous female in Prythian, so why was he so surprised that you made everything else just as beautiful?

"Should I be concerned I fit into this?"

You let out a small laugh, tightening your hold around his waist.

"You've always had a dainty ballerina waist, babe," you teased, watching as he rolled his eyes playfully in response, a small smile forming at the edges of his mouth.

Azriel turned his head to look down at you over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

"But don't worry.” You gave him another little squeeze. “It doesn't zip up in the back. Your boobs are too big," you added, your hands moving to jokingly squeeze his pecs.

Azriel scoffed lightly and lifted your hands off him, turning around to face you. He struggled for a moment as the fabric of the dress moved around his heavy boots and you bit your lip to suppress your laughter at the movement.

His eyes met yours as he finally faced you, gently holding your hands in his, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Shadows curled around where your hands met, cool and light. "Alright, those are muscles," he remarked teasingly. "Pecs."

You nodded, scrunching your nose playfully. "Uh-uh.”

"Real big, tough muscles," he continued, emphasizing his point. He leaned in closer to you.

"Boobs," you interjected with a grin. The face Azriel wore, now, could almost be interpreted as one of unamusement had it not been for the glint in his eyes and the subtle upturn of his lips.

He shook his head with a soft laugh. "What am I going to do with you?"

You pretended to contemplate for a moment, looking away in exaggerated thought. "Hmmm… maybe kiss me?"

Azriel’s eyes softened, a dimpled smile appearing on his face. “I can do that.”

He leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips, the moment melting away in the warmth of his mouth, in the way that your eyes shuttered closed. You let out a hum of delight.

Too caught up in the moment, you both failed to hear the sound of your door opening until it was far too late.

"Hey guys, have you seen—" Cassian's voice trailed off as he stepped inside, taking in the view before him.

It was Azriel who pulled apart first, neck snapping to face his brother at a speed so fast you barely blinked. You, however, opted to slowly turn to look at him, already preparing yourself for the look on his face.

“What-” Cassian paused, face falling into a confused scowl. He rebalanced himself, putting his weight on his other leg. He moved again as he placed his hands on his hips. Then once more, as he pointed towards Azriel with a lazy finger. “Whats, uh, whats going on here?”

“Get out,” was Azriels only reply.

Cassian pursed his lips, eyes narrowing at his brother. His gaze flickered to you for a moment, taking in your tightly pressed lips, clearly containing a laugh, and then he looked back at Azriel.

"Nice dress, loser, but I don't think you have the right amount of cleavage to pull it off.”

A low growl rumbled in Azriel's chest as he rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

You wondered if the growl was a reaction of embarrassment from your mate or if it was in response to Cassian alluding to your own cleavage. Both answers made you want to laugh.

But Cassian only grinned, a large amused smile— one that said he was just starting his strange, annoying torment. You sighed, mouth falling open into a smile despite your best efforts.

"Cass,” you said, bringing his attention to you. “You can't just barge into my room. What if we were naked? Right in the middle of having sex? Hmm?"

A hint of playful sarcasm laced your words.

Cassian's smirk widened. "Would've been a lot more normal than this," he responded, earning another eye-roll from Azriel and a snort of laughter from you.

"Get out," Azriel ordered again, his tone firm– and exasperated, almost– as he gestured towards the door.

You couldn't help but notice how Azriel's shadows seemed to shift, now positioned strategically at his chest where the fabric of the dress dipped to expose what would normally be your cleavage. You struggled to contain another laugh.

Cassian ignored him, hands gesturing between the two of you.

“So is this like a kink? Or is Azzie just wanting to get some better fashion sense?”

Azriel stared at him with a clenched jaw at the nickname, tossing and tired glance your way. You met your mates gaze with a small shrug and let out a small breath of amusement.

“Okay, c’mon,” you told Cassian, “He just lost a bet, that's all.”

You grimaced the instant the words came from your mouth, watching as Cassian’s eyes lit up. You looked at Azriel, watching as his face fell slightly. Oh no.

“You-” Cassian began to grin wide. “You lost a bet? To Y/n? You lost a bet, and now you're wearing a dress.”

Azriel tilted his head in warning. “Cassian.”

A second passed. And then Cassian was letting out a loud, boisterous laugh, eyes wide and wild. “Oh my gods.”

“Stop it,” Azriel warned.

It didn’t matter. Cassian instantly turned around, his loud voice echoing throughout the halls. “Az lost a bet! Az lost a bet and he’s wearing a dress! Rhys!”

“Cassian!” Azriel moved to chase after him, only to stumble over the excess fabric of the dress, the silk material wrapping awkwardly around his boots. You bursted into laughter, rushing to his side to help him up and bunch up the fabric to prevent any further struggles.

Your mate grumbled under his breath, words cursing the long dress and his brother. With a sheepish smile, Azriel gathered the dress in his hands and bolted down the hallway, cheeks painted in a dusty pink.

You watched him go, still chuckling at the absurdity of it all. As Azriel disappeared around the corner, still yelling a variety of threats at Cassian, his shadows curled around you and your shoulders.

"He kinda works that dress better than I do, huh?" you remarked to them, quietly enough that the words only filled the air near you.

The shadows seemed to ripple in amusement, as if laughing along with you at the scene.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

i added a lil explanation given cause lets be fr... cassian wouldnt bother az about the dress (hed probably wanna try one on too and nesta would be pissed hes ripping all of hers) but az LOSING at something....mans is never letting that go!!!!!

tag lists!

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @nighttimemoonlover

azriel tag list🫶🏻: @thisiskaylin

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader are married. he refers to readers breasts and makes a lewd joke. divider by cafekitsune my most beloved | wc 822

“That one looks like you.”

Squeezing Satoru’s bicep where your hand rests against it, arm looped through his, you giggle and shake your head. The statue in front of you is flesh made marble, a woman with thighs that maybe on a really good day resemble yours so painstakingly crafted that crowds gather to see her. She’s beautiful, a depiction of a goddess from fables you are both vaguely familiar with.

Is this really how he sees you? It makes those same butterflies he always manages to create stir in your belly and you wrinkle your nose, taking a peek up at him but looking away to admire the beauty depicted in front of you.

“You’ve already charmed me, Satoru. You don’t have to tell tall tales.” His gaze shifts from the sculpture to you, something you can feel rather than witness. He scoffs and tilts his head, shifting from standing beside you to in front of you, arms still linked together.

 “You always say that when I compliment you. Why?”

Laughing, you reach to pinch his side with your freehand and he dodges just in the nick of time. It’s preventative, he always giggles and causes a scene when you touch the tender ticklish spot right at his hip bone, and a museum in another country on a trip the two of you had to bend your schedules to go on is not the place to have a tickle fight. He traps your hand in his and deposits it at your side with a smug half smile.

“Let’s not get into it right now. I’ll just say thank you for the compliment and we can move on.”

Never one to take being put off gracefully, he crowds against you until there is zero space between your bodies. You worry about the PDA being seen as offensive or too much and glance around the mostly empty on a weekday museum where everyone else is fairly ignorant of your existence. It’s just the two of you, as always and not just in your head this time. Smiling, you let him embrace you and rest his balled hands against the small of your back, your entire body leaning into his side.

“You know, I’d have a house full of sculptures and paintings of you just like that if you’d let me,” he mumbles under his breath to bait you. You laugh aloud, pressing your cheek to his arm. “What, nude?” He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and raises his eyebrows over the tops of his sunglasses. “Obviously. Or clothed or in a gown or in water or tangled in our bed sheets.” 

Pausing to take a breath, he’s surprised to see you already looking up at him when he gazes down at you. He wishes he could capture this with more than just his eyes, his phone and heart. He has painted you before and would create a thousand more odes to his beauty if he had more time on his hands and you’d let him. You’re so eager to disbelieve your own beauty, you haven’t sat to be painted by him in years. 

Satoru makes a mental note to rectify that as soon as the two of you get home but continues to speak now that he has your undivided attention, smirking, all dimples and mischief and the things you love the most about him, the tenderness in your glance a reflection of how you feel.

“I’m just saying. I’m sure I could find some sculptor to carve my pretty wife and would do those,” he glances down at your chest and you roll your eyes half-heartedly, still wearing the smile he put on your face with his casual comparison of your likeness to that of a goddess. “The artistic justice they deserve.”

Despite the tongue in cheek joking, he can be such a romantic when he wants to be. You kind of feel he’s laying it on a little thick because you’re on vacation but what’s the harm in having fun when it is luxuriously just the two of you, the rarity that it is?

Smiling up at him, you offer a better solution.

“Maybe they can sculpt both of us. We can see if they’ll do that,” you subtly reach down and pat just below his belt buckle before he can swat at your hand or turn on his Infinity to keep you away, pulling your hand away as quickly as you can. “Some justice too.”

Now that’s an idea he appears to like, his smirk sliding into a full smile. You pat his arm and separate yourself from him, only to be met with a whine. You reach behind you and grab his hand, fingers intertwining as naturally as they always do, pulling him along with you.

“Now let me show you which one reminds me of you,” you tease him, smiling over your shoulder. 

[forever-rogue]

All of your fics have me daydreaming over here 🫣

Wouldn’t it be so cute if Joel accidentally said something to you where he basically admitted that he has a crush on you, or how he finds you attractive, and how red in the face he would get- like clearing his throat and averting his gaze or trying to cover it up

Part of me also imagines it in a “miss congenitally” way where fem!reader is then teasing like “you think I’m goooorgeous, you wanna kissss me, you want to loooove me” without realizing that he’s *actually* falling for you UGH my heart

AN | Please, this is so soft and I love this concept! 🥰 

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You liked Joel. Really liked him. And you were fairly certain that he liked you too. But you were also fairly certain that he would never admit that he felt that way. 

So what did that leave you with? A whole lot of fun and teasing. You might as well have some fun with it, right? Right.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hello there,” as soon as you spotted Joel, you flounced over to him, a big smile on your face. He was tending to his flock of his sheep, but stopped and turned around to face you. It was cold but you could still see the pink rising up in his cheeks. You were breathless by the time you reached him, heart pitter-pattering wildly in your chest, “Joel.”

“Hey sweetheart,” you liked it when he called you that. It always made your face flush up with warmth, “what’s up?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged innocently as you hopped onto the fence and made yourself comfortable, swinging your feet back and forth. He tutted softly and eyed you suspiciously, “what?”

“Nothin,’” he echoed your words, teasing you affectionately.

“What?” your eyes widened as your mouth formed a small pout, “don’t be mean!”

“I’m not,” he laughed and oh. You like the way his singular dimple showed up, and the way his eyes crinkled in the corner. He was wickedly handsome and it always made you weak. He reached over and gently brushed a few rogue locks of hair out of your face, “I just like giving you a hard time.”

“Have you ever considered not giving me a hard time?” you took some of the feed out of the bucket and tossed it to some of his sheep.

“I have,” he mused as you raised an eyebrow softly, “and I’ve decided that I will not be doing that. It’s too much fun to mess with you-”

“Hey!” 

“Affectionately,” he promised, as he watched your face go through a range of different emotions before you settled on a happy little smile, “what’re you up to you, trouble?”

“Nothing much,” you replied softly...which wasn’t a total lie. The entire truth was that you’d been looking for him because you missed him. It wasn’t even that it had been so long since you’d last seen him, you just liked being around him. You tried not to make it so obvious that you were…into him, but you weren’t sure how well you were hiding it. Considering that half of the people in Jackson teased you about it, you were pretty sure that it was…obvious, “had some time to kill and wanted to spend it with my favorite nuisance.”

“I’m the nuisance?” he scoffed playfully before pinching your side, causing you to squeal and squirm as you slid off the fence. Before you even had to worry about falling into the mud or hurting yourself, you felt a strong pair of hands wrap around your waist, “easy, trouble. Don’t want you to go hurting yourself.”

Your brain was currently consumed with the thought of him still holding onto your waist, despite the fact that he no longer needed to. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before only nodding shyly. It always seemed like he could see right into your soul, into your heart. You couldn’t hold his gaze for much longer otherwise you were sure that you’d spill all of your secrets. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, slowly and reluctantly pulling out of his grasp. You swallowed thickly, before flailing your hand around, “I-I should go. I have to do…things.”

“Things,” he repeated, his accent twanging slightly on the word, “what kind of things, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It just so happens that I do mind you asking, Miller,” you lied, finding it easy to smile one again from the affection he so openly offered you. He wasn’t a hard man by any means, not these days anymore, but he still wasn’t so free with his heart with many people. You happened to be one of the few that he cared so deeply for, “so, I gotta get going.”

“Uh huh honey,” he watched as you slipped past him and out of the small enclosure. Before running off, you turned around to offer him a meek little wave, “have fun with those things!”

“I will!” you stuck out your tongue at him, but he was laughing, “see you around, Miller!”

“See you around,” he stood there and watched you run off, a dopey little smile on his face. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head in amusement before turning back to his little flock. 

“You guys make me sick,” Ellie popped out of nowhere and stood next to Joel, petting one of the sheep - Gort, which happened to be her favorite. Joel couldn’t help the deep belly laugh that escaped him; it made Ellie smile too. He was laughing a lot more these days and Ellie really liked that, “disgustingly cute.”

“What?” he looked at her in surprise, “her? Me?”

“Definitely her,” she felt a warm blush creep into her cheeks as well; she had a bit of a crush on you but it wasn’t anything serious. She nudged him in the ribs, “you’re pretty when you blush, don’t worry about it, Joel. But the two of you together - absolutely precious and heartwarming.”

“Ellie.”

“Just ask her out or something,” she suggested and Joel absolutely blushed and felt himself fumbling like a nervous boy rather than a grown man, “go to a movie, make her dinner, get a little act-”

“Ellie,” his eyes widened as the girl started to laugh, “don’t you dare finish that sentence, kid. You shouldn’t even know about that!”

“I just turned fifteen old man, in case you forgot,” yeah, she really liked to make him squirm, “we had a party and you were making eyes at her then too. Besides, I already know about sex, Joel. You don’t have to give me that talk.”

“Good - I wait, what were they teaching you in that FEDRA school?”

“Not the point - but you didn’t deny that you were making heart eyes,” she ducked out of his reach, giggling wildly as she ran in between the sheep, “ask her out!”

“You better keep running!” he started running after her, both of them laughing like the fools they were. 

This life really suited both of them. Now he just needed to get the girl - you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Need some help?" you turned around at the sound of his voice and almost fell off your ladder in the process. He was at your side and caught you in mere moments, "whoa there, trouble. You need to start being more careful!"

"It would help if you weren't sneaking up on me all the time," you were definitely trying to ignore the fact that he was currently holding you in his arms against his chest. He laughed, deep and hearty, and you could feel the sound vibrating in his chest.

"I don't consider it sneakin' if I'm coming up to you in broad daylight and announcing my presence," he gently set you back, and wiped some dirt off your face. His touch was a juxtaposition of rough and soft and managed to send shivers down your spine, "there - all better. Beautiful."

You'd already been warming up under his gaze but as soon as that singular word came out, you almost combusted on the spot. Part of you was sure that you had imagined it, a delusional bit of hope, but you also swore you could see the pink creeping into his cheeks.

"What did you say?" you looked at him with big, wide eyes and that's when it hit Joel. He'd actually voiced his innermost thoughts out loud. To you. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, "did you call me beautiful?"

"What? I, ugh, no?" He shrugged his shoulders as if to try and play it off. But you both knew he was lying, "I'd never say that!"

"Umm…thank you?" You were trying to keep your laughter contained. His face turned bright red and he groaned as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

"No, I didn't mean it like that. You are beautiful but I didn't mean to say it like that…?"

"Are you sure, Joel?" This time you had the upper hand as you reached over and brushed his hair out of his face, "are you asking me or telling me?"

"I'm telling you that you're beautiful-"

"Oh! So you do think I'm beautiful!" A huge smile spread across your face as Joel looked like he wished the ground would open up and swallow him while.

"I…fuck," he hung his head and sighed deeply.

"Oooh, you think I'm pretty!" You were going to have way too much fun with this. You were bouncing on your feet and gently nudging his shoulder, "Joel has a crush on me! He loves me!"

"I-" he couldn't even defend himself because everything you were saying was true. He just wasn't quite sure if he had been ready to admit that. But the way you were looking at him made it feel like you might have felt the same way. 

"You wanna kiss me, don't you?" You had no clue where this burst of confidence was coming from him, but for once you liked it, "'s okay, Joel. You can admit you're madly in love with me."

Joel's head was spinning and he felt a hundred different things at once. All he knew was that it was suddenly overwhelming. 

"I have to go," was all he could get out as he gently pushed past you. You made a small sound of surprise as you watched him go, his shoulders slumping. Oh. You really hoped you hadn't overstepped any boundaries or just made things completely awkward. 

"Fuck," you groaned at yourself, "fuck."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You decided to let things cool down for a few days before seeking him out again. You really just hoped that you hadn't messed things up with him.

You found him outside the small bar, leaning against the wall and staring up at the sky. He must have sensed you because he looked over and caught your eye, a pointedly neutral expression on his face.

"Hey," you walked over to him, hesitantly but relaxed when he didn't seem to recoil. 

"Hey," he replied, offering you a small nod. The two of you fell into silence for a bit as you looked up at the stars. You liked being able to see them here; they were so clear it felt like you could have touched them. 

"Umm," you broke the silence after a bit and swallowed down your nerves, "Listen, I just wanted to apologize for the other day. I didn't mean to…make things weird. I shouldn't have done it." 

He made a small sound before he turned to face you full on. Joel studied you for a moment, leaving your heart beating wildly. Before you even realized what was happening, he gently took your face in his hands, brushing his thumb over your cheek. 

His eyes flicked to yours, almost as if searching yours for permission. You gave him the most subtle of nods and he quickly closed the gap, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, tender kiss. 

When Joel did something, he didn't go halfway, he fully committed. And he kissed you as though his life depended on it, like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do in life. 

You pulled apart only when you needed to breathe, and even then it was reluctant. The smile you gave him almost made him weak in the eyes but he returned it, without hesitation or question.

"What you said," he paused for a moment, "it wasn't wrong. You're right, actually. All of it was true."

"Joel, I'm -" and then it hit you, "wait, what."

"It was true," he repeated, "all of it."

"Oh," you blinked a few times, "oh. You love me?"

"I do," he confirmed and it felt like your entire body was on fire, "I guess it just took you to finally get it out of me."

"I thought I said all the wrong things," you admitted breathlessly, "I was afraid I'd fucked everything up."

"No," he promised, "you didn't at all."

"You love me," you said dreamily as Joel just grinned at you, "and I love you. Wow."

"Wow," he teased softly, "what am I going to do with you, trouble?"

"Kiss me for starters."

"Yeah," he touched your cheek softly, "I can definitely do that."

[cherryshortycake]

Imagines of Bakugou, Your heroic manzz..

Imagine: so y'all seen the manga time skip of bakugou and everyone going feral, and about that damn dimple. But imagine catching on to it in your third year together.

You had just finished your own training session, and while everyone else had headed back to the dorms, you lingered a little longer, hoping for a moment alone with him. After a particularly loud blast, he turned to you, wiping the sweat from his brow, and you couldn’t help but grin at the sight..

“You’re gonna wear yourself out, you know,” you teased, leaning back on your hands. Looking away in the distance at the smoke he created.

He huffed, putting his hand on his side, he scowled before sipping his water, but there was a flicker of non annoyed in his eyes. “I’m fine. Unlike some people, I don’t need a break every five minutes.” He said throwing his towel your way including his empty water bottle. hinting he's talking about you.

You laughed softly, which made him give a smirk at his action he did just a second ago, looking at you. He starts stretching which made you think, He has a dimple on his left cheek. Maybe clown around with him?

“You know, you look kind of cute when you smile. I mean, you’ve got this little dimple that shows up. It’s kinda—”

“Shut it!” he interrupted, his face flushing slightly, but the corner of his mouth twitched as he tried to suppress a smile. “I don’t smile. It’s just a shadow or something damnit”

You raised an eyebrow, getting up from your spot and grabbing his towel that he threw at you earlier, walking his way to give it back to him but also getting a closer look. Inching closer, your teasing tone playfully. “A shadow? Really? It looks like a dimple to me. You should show it off more. Thought that's what you like to do..”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed, but you could see that he was fighting back a grin. “I’m not doing it for you. Don’t get any weird ideas!”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the sound ringing out as you poked him playfully in the side. “Oh, come on! It’s just a compliment. I mean, who wouldn’t want to show off their dimple?”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite hide the smile that tugged at his lips. “You really think I care about that stuff? I’m a hero, not some pretty boy.”

“Sure, but heroes can be pretty too,” you replied, shrugging with a grin. “And just so you know, that dimple makes you more approachable. It shows you’re human, you know?”

Bakugou paused, his expression softening just a bit as he contemplated your words. “Tch, whatever,” he mumbled, but you caught the small smile creeping onto his face, that adorable dimple finally making an appearance.

And in that moment, you smiled at him. That dimple is going to be the death of you..

[b0ng05]

Velcro Shoes - Sam Carpenter

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

Word Count: 1607

Prompt: Sam Carpenter and Y/n are having dinner over at Tara and Chad's house with their niece when the little girl accidentally mixes up her words.

Masterlist

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

It was a typical Saturday night, Sam and Y/n had gone over to Tara and Chad’s for their weekly game night and dinner. After a night of eating takeout, having learned their lesson long ago in letting Chad cook, and a game night of Mindy shit-talking everyone in Uno and then her losing, it had grown late into the night. Mindy and her girlfriend had already bid their goodbyes and left, preventing Mindy from tackling Chad after he dropped four Draw 4 cards on her. But before Sam and Y/n could take their cue to leave as well, their 3 year old niece was quick to affirm they couldn’t go just yet. Sam and Tara had snuck off to the kitchen for some wine, knowing Tara’s daughter had a habit of demanding her mom share every snack or beverage she had. Y/n and Chad were left to attend the young child.

Y/n and Ruby were sitting on the carpeted floor of the living room, the little girl showing off her favorite stuffed animals from her toy bin in the corner, it was next to a tiny kid’s kitchen that Mindy had gotten her, having claimed she wanted her niece to at least be a better cook than her brother. After a few minutes of looking through her stuffed animals, the girl let out a big yawn and rubbed her eyes before they drifted down to the floor, a flash of bright colors catching her attention. “Auntie Y/n, I like your shoes,” Ruby smiled, her dimples showing as she looked at the colorful dinosaurs on Y/n’s shoes. “Yeah?” Y/n smiled back, glancing down at her shoes.

“Uh huh, they’re just like mine,” Ruby nods, going to grab one of her shoes from the shoerack. The small shoe was bright pink and sparkly with unicorns and velcro straps. The girl giggled happily as she pointed at the velcro on her shoes and the velcro on Y/n’s. Y/n’s shoes having been a gift from her eldest sister who had bought them for her years before Ruby was even born. “Yeah they are, yours are so pretty!” Y/n gushes, causing a big grin to spread across the little girl’s face as she let out a little giggle. Her nose scrunching in a way similar to her mother's. “We both have strap on shoes!” The little girl cheers innocently, excited at the thought of matching shoes with her soon-to-be aunt.

Y/n’s eyes go wide, and a look of horror crosses her face as her head whips over in Chad’s direction, her eyebrows practically reaching her hairline. The dumbfounded look on Chad’s face and her own dirty mind makes her burst out in laughter, trying to turn away from Ruby, not wanting the young girl to think she was being laughed at for the matching shoes part. As Y/n laughs, her mind takes the words “strap on shoes” and runs with it, both mortified and incredibly amused with the images her brain created. “That’s not what they’re called, sweetie!” Y/n wheezes out as tears brim her eyes.

Y/n layed sprawled out on the floor of the living room, wheezing in laughter. Her face bright red and tears streaming down her cheeks as she clutches her stomach in pain, but the words that left the little girl’s mouth left her in a torturous state of giggles. Ruby had her father’s eyes and her mother’s smile. But the words that had left her mouth minutes prior had definitely proved Chad’s paternity more than her uncanny features. Chad covered his mouth with his fist as his wife and sister-in-law entered in from the kitchen, hiding his laugh with a fake cough. “What’s so funny in here?” Sam asks, a grin poking at the corner of her lips upon the sight on her fiancee dying in laughter on the floor. “I dunno,” Ruby shrugs, lifting her tiny hands in the air with a confused look on her face, and tired eyes that had begun to droop. “Chad?” Tara inquires, a small smile on her face as she takes a seat next to him on the couch.

Ruby made her way into Tara’s lap as Chad gave a shrug mocking an overdramatic confused face. Tara narrows her eyes at him playfully as she coddles her daughter. His reaction proving to her enough that there was some sort of dirty joke involved. “Y/n/n? Care to fill us in?” Sam teases, moving to sit next to her fiancee who had just started calming down until she heard Sam’s words before wheezing out in laughter again, dirty jokes consuming her brain. Tara and Sam look at each other with amusement and confusion, Chad’s eyes gandering everywhere around the room except his wife, sister-in-law and Y/n’s eyes trying to avoid the topic and busting into laughter.

“Seriously, you guys are giving me fomo, in my own home. Tell me,” Tara playfully scoffed, her hand rubbing her daughter’s back as she was swaying the girl in her arms, who was falling asleep, having been awake longer than her usual bedtime. “I’ll take her to bed and uh- Y/n, you’re it-” Chad starts off calmly as he picked up Ruby from Tara’s arms, before whisper-shouting the end and speedwalking to put his daughter to bed. As Y/n wiped the tears off her face with the sleeves of her sweater, Sam and Tara looked at her with expecting yet amused looks. “Your daughter was trying to say we had matching velcro shoes, and-” Y/n paused as she tried to compose herself, “She goes, ‘We both have strap on shoes!’,” Y/n says, trying to reinact the excitement in the girl’s voice. Sam bites back a smile as she looks over at Tara who let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose and she tried to hold back a small laugh.

“And then like- it got me thinking,” Y/n tries to stifle a giggle, “How would that work? Like- is the strapon on the bottom of the shoes? Because that would bring a whoolee new meaning to kicking someone’s ass. Or is it more of a door stopper situation?-” Before Y/n can toss out the few last jokes Sam cuts her off, playfully slapping her shoulder as she chuckled. Tara’s giggles brought Sam and Y/n from their small moment. Tara was covering her face with her hands as the strange imagery crossed her mind. Cringing at the idea of someone being kicked in the ass with the hypothetical shoes. “I think we should end the night off on that note,” Tara laughs as she gets up from the couch, shaking her head in amusement as she walked down the hall towards her daughter’s room to check on her husband and child. After Tara left the room, Y/n glances over at Sam with a cheeky grin. Sam laughs and stands up from the floor, holding her hands out to help her fiancee up from her spot. “I think scientists might need to study your brain.” Sam chuckles, pulling the woman up with ease. “Why? Cause I’m so funny?” Y/n jokes, smiling as Sam kisses her forehead.

“Uh- sure. We’ll go with that.” Sam teases, pretending to be thrown off by the statement. “Hey! I’m funny!” Y/n playfully pouts, looking up at Sam, her eyes riddled with mischief. “If that helps you sleep at night, baby,” Sam teases as they walk over to the coathooks near the door, passing the shorter woman her coat. “Back to the shoes though- how do you think a roundhouse kick would-” Sam cuts her fiancee off by shaking her head laughing as she walks out the front door, leaving Y/n behind to hastily put on her coat, speedwalking to catch up to her soon-to-be wife. “Y’know, I’m still your fiancee, being mean to me could result in a demotion,” Y/n playfully teases as she huffs to catch her breath, having to take more steps to get in speed with the taller woman’s stride.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Sam pauses, smirking as she glances over at Y/n, taking her hand in her own, “You love me too much, and you’re too excited to call yourself my wife to demote me.” She states as they get on the elevator, Sam smiling lovingly as she moves out of the way to let Y/n press the button, something that always gave the woman a dorky sense of excitement. Some thought it was childish, but Sam thought it was cute to see her get excited over something so small. “First floor or second, madame?” Y/n mocks a professional tone and she elegantly holds her pointer finger out, spinning it around the air playfully anticipating the number. “First, dork.” Sam rolls her eyes adoringly as she watches her press the button overdramatically.

Y/n grins as she steps over to Sam’s side, wrapping her arm around Sam’s waist as they wait for the elevator to take them down. Sam wraps her arm around the shorter woman’s shoulders, pulling her in closer and kissing her forehead. “I love you nerd.” Sam sighs playfully. “I love you too, baby,” Y/n giggles, leaning up to kiss Sam’s cheek. “But do you think-” Before Y/n can finish her sentence, Sam cuts her off. “Baby, I really don’t want to think about you roundhouse kicking someone in the ass with a strapon shoe.” Sam sighs. “Don’t you mean dicking someone in the ass-” Sam groans loudly at the pun.

[creepycranberry]

Eddie x reader who mainly eats with their hands

This is slightly self indulgent but I thought the idea was cute :)

<3•<3•<3•<3

“You’re like a little gremlin.” Eddie grins, his dimples showing.

“The fuck did you just call me?” You half laugh, looking up at him from your spot on the rug and putting down a piece of your steak that Gareth had cut up for you because you had never been taught how to properly cut steak and seeing you struggle with it made him cringe.

Practice had gone over time a bit so Garett’s parents had made dinner for the band as well.

A few months ago you had seen an ad on the bulletin board at Benny’s for a backup vocalist and had auditioned. You ended up getting it and now you were sitting in Gareth's garage at half past eight eating dinner.

The boys were seated at the various seating options around the open concept dining/living room. Eddie was sitting in the arm chair behind you, giggling at your mannerisms. You sat on the corner of the rug, rolling your eyes at Eddie and resisting the urge to throw a piece of steak into his hair.

“You're like a little gremlin. Just sitting on the floor, holding your steak in both hands while you nibble on it.” What he didn’t say was how cute he thought it was. It was amusing, sure but more than anything he thought it was adorable.

He liked getting to know you and your mannerisms. He had thanked the higher powers more than once for your vocal talent, along with Benny for never cleaning off his goddamned bulletin board.

“No one handed me a fork and I’m too lazy to get up.” You shrugged and Eddie shook his head.

That wasn’t why you were eating with your hands.

The only time he had ever seen you eat with utensils was ice cream. Maybe spaghetti.

“You always eat with your hands.” He remarks and you pout slightly, squinting your eyes at him.

“I do not.” You argue.

“Yeah you do.” He chuckles.

You look at gareth and Jeff who are eating on the couch, “hey guys? Do I always eat with my hands?”

Gareth and Jeff look at each other and sigh,

“yes.”

“Pretty much.”

Your pout deepens as your cheeks and the tips of your ears turn pink. You make a hmph noise and turn away from them, looking at the tv.

“Did you not notice?” Eddie smiles and his smile causes you to struggle with continuing your pout.

“I mean- not really.” You mumble, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Eddie backtracks when he sees the embarrassment painting your features, “it’s not bad or weird or anything.”

He says it a bit quieter, eyeing the guys who have turned their attention away from the conversation in favor of the Star Trek rerun playing on the tv.

“It’s not that I’m just slightly embarrassed that I never noticed it before.” You shrug, smiling shyly at him, doing your best to shrug off the embarrassment.

“It’s a habit.” Eddie shrugs, “and if it helps you be less embarrassed about it, it’s kinda cute.”

Your eyebrows raise slightly at the unexpected statement, your cheeks turning a brighter shade of pink than before.

“Oh um, thanks?”

Eddie smiles again, taking his uncut slab of steak and brandishing it in both hands, raising it in the air with fanfare before clamping his teeth into it and dramatically tearing off a mouthful.

You laugh at his theatrics and sound makes him smile wider.

It’s only when you scrunch up your nose that he realizes his wide smile has caused him to chew messily with his mouth open.

[yesimwriting]

what have felix and lovie been up tooooo

considering i recently got back from my first ever trip to england they are extra alive and well !!! this would have been up sooner but i stopped to take a small break and fell asleep for awhile 😭

----

The hazy feeling swirling through your body has made the rest of the world feel like mush. It'd take a strength you can't quite grasp to not lean into the sensation, so you let it take over.

Your eyes fall shut. You give yourself a beat to enjoy the feeling before lifting a hand to wipe at your face.

The world seems to shift. Something soft brushes against the side of your face. The feeling is so gentle it borders on intangible. "Y'okay?"

Felix's breath is warm against your ear, as gentle and fleeting as the sound of his voice. You shift back just enough to really look at Felix. He's staring at you, eyebrows pinched together slightly. "Yeah," you tell him, "Just a little tired."

He watches you for a long second, taking his time reading your features. "You're high."

The corner of Felix's mouth pulls upwards, a lazy smile that only adds to your haziness. It's hard to not reflect his joy. You can feel the grin tugging at your lips. "Not that high."

Felix shifts, not exactly straightening or leaning away from you, but he does lift his chin slightly. You watch him curiously, unaware of much until you feel his touch against your chin. His fingers curl beneath your jaw, thumb pressing against your chin.

The warmth of his touch is so consuming you can't bring yourself to wonder what he's doing. You're too distracted by the sensation to even react to Felix tilting your head. Sometimes you wish you could melt into him.

"Should never let you do anything with Farleigh." Felix's voice remains too light for the comment to feel truly passive aggressive, but there's a hint of something else there. You're too drowsy to guess at it.

Smoking with Farleigh while in Felix's room with several of his friends is hardly the most outrageous thing you've ever done. Felix was busy entertaining his other friends, so when Farleigh offered, you had been bored enough to accept. Besides, the joint had been passed around to over half the people in the room, and those that hadn't smoked had been too drunk to do so.

"I don't know," you mumble, "I don't think he's that bad."

Felix sighs, his breath warm as it the side of your face. "You complimenting Farleigh?" His hand slips away from your chin and onto your shoulder. "I've lost you, Lovie."

You shake your head once, fighting down a grin. "You're very melodramatic today."

He's closer than he needs to be, and you're terribly glad for it. Felix is always pretty, but now you can make out the little details. The golden flecks of color tinging the dark brown of his irises, the length of his eyelashes, the light splattering of freckles spread out across his cheeks and nose.

The corner of his mouth tilts upwards, a small dimple etching itself into his cheek. "You bring it out in me."

You're sure that the perfect, lighthearted response is patiently waiting for you to stumble onto it. Your lips part, but no words come. Anything logical feels far, like it belongs to some other version of yourself that's currently away.

"Are you tired?" The question is so genuine, an honest answer almost tumbles out. Sure, you're feeling a little more out of it than you thought you would, but you don't want to bring down the mood. You press your lips together and shake your head. "Really?"

You nod, keeping your expression as neutral and put together as possible. "I'm okay."

His eyebrows pinch together. "You want to lay down?" Felix straightens, setting his hands against the mattress. "For a little?"

While you have nothing against taking a nap in Felix's bed, the two of you aren't alone. There are people everywhere, leaning against Felix's desk and sitting on the floor. There's even a girl sitting on the other side of Felix, on the same bed he's telling you to lie down on.

"It's okay." You sit up a little straighter in an attempt to seem more awake. "I don't want to bother anyone."

Felix leans back a little more, his weight settling on his forearms. "No one will care."

No one will care if he lies down on someone's lap randomly. The thought almost slips out before you can stop it. Maybe you should lay down for a little. You nod, "Okay."

Felix places a hand on your arm, keeping you steady as you move to lay down. You set your head on his lap. Felix drags his knuckles against your arm, back and forth with a consistency that settles you.

You're in a place between asleep and awake when you hear someone mention some club opening in the city. Mira, the other girl on the bed gasps. "We should go--we should totally go." There's a beat of silence, and then she asks, "Felix?"

"Hm..." He hums, his hand never stalling on your arm. The last thing you can make out is someone repeating the question.

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny @lilyrachelcassidy @khxna @imbabycowboy

[y4z1]

Black, Stained White. | MDNI

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader

Synopsis: You and Bang Chan get into a playful fight when he finds out he isn't your bias, but what unrolls after your fight with Chan is a very not-so-bestfriend like situation.

Warnings: making out, sex, choking-ish, reader is called babygirl (duh, it's chan), fingering, Daddy kink, choking kink, spanking, basically just MDNI

WC: 1.5k

Chan was sitting across you, on the bean bag in the corner of the room, while you were sitting on your bed. His cute dimples and crescent-shaped eyes were staring back at you—cute. You were sharing a hilarious memory of you and Felix's disastrous moment of baking, and how you had accidentally slipped over a banana peel on the floor. His giggles filling the entire room, it was like heaven to your ears. You loved nothing more than hearing Chan happy.

Out of all the people you'd met, you loved Chan the most. You appreciated that he loved you for who you are, unlike others. Throughout your relationship of several years, Chan had always been the one putting a smile on your face. And so, you did the same for him. You really can't recall a single memory where you guys aren't dying of laughter on the floor.

After recollecting yourself and taking a few deep breaths, you finally looked back at him—and bursted out laughing, again. "I'm so sorry, I'm actually so sorry I'll stop"

5 minutes pass and you finally stopped laughing. Chan got up and stretched his arms out, he was wearing a full black outfit. He slipped his beanie off and his orange curly hair poofed out which looked, not to mention, so damn attractive.

He'd dyed his hair plenty of times, but I guess since it's been a while you'd never realized how much you'd craved seeing orange-haired Chan.

His eyes perked up at your and his body facing you. His eyebrows furrowed and head tilted. "Hey, I've never asked you, who's your bias?"

You smiled and blushed at the thought of your bias—or seungmin, specifically. But you couldn't tell him that, what if he tells the other members and then they feel like they're not good enough or just not loved.

"I like all the members", you'd thought you'd gotten away with it but deep down you knew your lies were pretty obvious, and the guilt was plastered on your face.

"Stop lying, I know you have a bias". He was smiling at you again, inching closer by the second. His sexy, deep, Australian accent making your heart beat even faster as if it's not about to already jump out of your body.

You were scared, guilty, and flustered all at the same time. And he could clearly tell. "I won't tell anyone" he said with a warm smile to calm you down a little. And he kept his promises, he really did, he kept all of them in fact.

Without a second thought, you looked at him in the eyes. "It's seungmin...", you fidgeted with your hands. A shocked look on his face, "SEUNGMIN?! I THOUGHT YOU WERE LEE KNOW BIASED", now you were the one with the shocked face. "Lee know?! What makes you think that?!" You replied. He widened his eyes and his signature dimpled smile on his face, "your murderous personality"

You chuckled "wow. Okay but listen, by bias I just mean that seungmin is the one who catches my eye the most. I don't have a real bias because it just changes every 3 days. These days its been you in my mind all day" you covered your mouth and your eyes widened realizing what you'd just said.

He smirked at you, from what you could tell from the corner of your eye. He ruffled your hair, "awwwww that's cute, you love me that much". He was teasing you. In response you smacked his hand away. But, it just made the situation worse, he pushed you onto your back and hovered over you.

It turned into a fight of him trying to get his hands on your body as a way of teasing and you just yanking his hands away, though eventually it stopped when he stared at you with dark, lustful eyes.

His deep brown eyes stared back at you. Everything around you, erased. All you could see was him, and you. His veiny arms were around your head, pinning your body into the mattress.

Your eyes travelled down to his lips. It was as if his lips were pulling you in and you couldn't escape them. They were a soft shade of cherry red, and heart shaped. His bottom lip was tucked under his teeth.

Without even realizing how or when, you were centimeters close. His lips, still bringing you in, until both your lips finally touched and brought each other in for a slow, savory kiss.

He pulled back, getting confirmation that it was okay to go on further. You gave him an approval nod and smile, going in for another kiss. This time a more intimate and longing one.

Eventually, it turned into a full-on make out session. Your hands roaming eachothers body.

You both pulled away from lack of oxygen, and his left hand snaked around your thigh while he brought his lips closer to your inner thigh, gliding his soft lips up and down.

He left one or two hickeys along the process, making sure to mark his territory.

He inched closer and closer, until his face was less than a centimeter away from your heat. In a teasing motion, he lifted his long, slender fingers and traced your folds up and down through your soaked panties.

"so soaked for me, huh babygirl?" He said in a deep, raspy voice, making you even wetter than you already were. He knew the effect he had on you, and he used it to an advantage. He knew every single one of your kinks, every one of your turn-on's.

He eyes were on you the whole time, making sure you were okay with going further.

He teased you over and over again, you were starting to lose patience and he knew that. Nonetheless, you stared at him with doe eyes, knowing that'd drive him crazy.

Your panties to the side in seconds, while he slipped two fingers in, receiving a satisfied moan in return. Three thrusts and he pulled out, smirking at you. You whined and tried other devious tricks on him that you were sure would drive him insane. But damn did he have self control.

There was one trick you hadn't tried though. You'd always known he had a daddy kink, well who didn't—it's literally Chan we're talking about.

You put on a little pout and doe eyes for him, tilting your head. "Please, daddy?" You know that did it for him when he bit his lip and smirked even harder.

An unexpected slap to your ass caught you off guard. You gasped at the stinging pain. "Say it again, babygirl "

"p-please daddy?" A tear making its way down the side of your face.

Though he'd put up a cold persona, he'd made sure to not hurt you in anyway by slowly entering into your heat.

Your walls clenched around him and you wanted more. Patience long forgotten, all you wanted was his massive dick thrusting in and out of you at a godly pace.

And he fulfilled your desires, thrusting in and out of you, right as you adjusted to his length. His left hand wrapped around your neck tightly. You could barely breathe but he knew you so well, he knew it was one of your kinks.

You could feel the similar knot tie itself in your stomach, and within seconds that knot untied itself. You came together at the same time, staining the black sheets white.

He collapsed on top of you, while you ran your hand through his curls. You both laid in bed for a while until you regained your energy to go and shower.

Chan got up first, walking over to the bathtub and turning on the hot water. He made sure the water was the right temperature, and made his way towards you, carrying you bridal style. You giggled to yourself. "What's so funny" he asked with a small smile on his face. "Nothing, don't worry."

He laid you into the bathtub gently. He was walking back towards your bedroom, and damn did bro have a whole bakery back there (bet his back hurts from carrying the whole kpop industry and that humongous a-). Your eyes perked up at him and you asked "you're not getting in?". He stopped and looked back at you, "no, haha you can wash up first"

You got up and took one leg out of the bathtub, reaching for his hand. You pulled him down into the bathtub with you, water splashing everywhere.

He looked at you with wide eyes and an open mouth, "did you just try to drown me?". You giggled and responded, "hey I thought you could swim"

He put on a bland expression, trying to hide that smile that wanted to take over his face "yeah I'm gonna swim in like, half a foot of water"

Whether you were taking a bath, cuddling, or even at work, your bickering never stopped.

A/N: Wrote this at like 2 AM only cuz if I were to continue it later, it would be chilling in my drafts for years.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

E like enigma

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles August warm-up round. Prompt: college AU.

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: Secret admirer, not actually unrequited love, no UD AU

"Oooh," Robin croons and hands him a book from the stack of returns. "You've got another!"

"Oh yeah?" 

Steve's stomach does a funny little flip, but he tries to keep his tone casual. He fails. Knows it. Knows that she knows he tried, and knows he failed. Robin wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. 

"C'mon, have a look! What does it say?" 

Steve steals a glance at the part of the college library that's visible from their desk. As is to be expected on a Friday night, there aren't many people around. Just some students frantically studying for exams or pouring over last-minute papers.  

Robin nudges him impatiently. He sighs and flips the book open.

The name scrawled at the bottom of the lending card in narrow, scratchy handwriting is the same as always. 

E. Munson 

As always, there's a sheet of cheap notebook paper tucked next to it, folded in half. 

The first time this happened, Steve didn’t put much meaning to it. Students will use all kinds of things as bookmarks. Candy wrappers, restaurant bills, hell, even a condom wrapper on one particularly noteworthy occasion. (Robin gagged so hard at that one she had to excuse herself to the staff room for a solid ten minutes.) 

So, the first time he emptied the returns box and found a note in one of the books, he assumed E. Munson had simply forgotten to take it out.

There was a little heart doodled on it, and the words You’re really cute underneath. It had to be from E.'s girlfriend or boyfriend, surely. Steve wondered if they'd miss it.

Ever since, the notes have gotten more specific and, lately, more and more frequent. Some will compliment his hair or his clothes or his smile. Those make him preen a little, even though he denies it to Robin’s grinning face. Others are soft and thoughtful, telling him to drink enough water when it's hot outside, or asking if he's resting enough when he's stressing over exams. Those make him feel a different kind of happy - all warm and fuzzy and light. 

The books with the notes only ever show up on Steve’s shifts, and only ever in the returns box. Whoever E. Munson is, they're pretty damn sneaky. 

They're also driving Steve low-key insane. Because the notes are lovely, don't get him wrong. He kind of already has his eyes on someone else, though. Even if it's silly, even if he's sure nothing will come of it …

Robin is looking like she's about to explode with anticipation, so he sighs and folds the note open. 

Wanna take you out for drinks after your shift. Meet me at the back entrance? 

*

The back entrance is illuminated only by one dim streetlight and he is a little sorry he turned down Robin's offer of standing guard around the corner. There's a lonely figure standing just outside the keg of light, smoking a cigarette and- 

"Oh. Hi, Eddie." 

Eddie looks up at him and his face breaks into a delighted, dimpled smile. And maybe it's the lamplight or the foggy air of the early fall afternoon, but his face looks uncharacteristically soft. 

"Steve, hey. Hoped you'd show up."

"Y-yeah?" Steve stutters, stomach swooping with something that's half joy and half horror. 

See, the thing is, he likes Eddie. They're majoring in different subjects, so they've only had two or three classes together. Hell, he doesn’t even know the guy's last name. 

They've talked a few times, though. Maybe even flirted a bit. 

But he has no delusions about this turning into anything more. The flirting and the furtive glances over the tops of textbooks are one thing, but there's no way that Eddie - with his rings and his leather and his chains and his unruly mop of dark curls that Steve itches to bury his hands in - would actually be into preppy ex-jocks in pastel colored polos.

Still, Steve can't help but feel drawn in by Eddie’s quick wit and smart mouth, that bold bark of a laugh. Not to mention his smile. How the corners of his eyes crinkle with it. How it makes a gentleness poke through that intimidating facade that Steve would like to learn more about. 

He's smiling like that now, and Steve feels his heartbeat quicken and has to bite back a curse. Just his luck that Eddie would show up now, of all times. Now that the mysterious note writer is actually making their move and Steve has decided to try and give them a chance. 

"Erm, listen man …" he starts to say. The collar of his sweater is suddenly too scratchy and too warm on his skin, so he reaches up to tug at it. 

Eddie hums and the smoke of his cigarette mingles with the fog. 

"Yellow suits you, y’know? You should wear it more." 

And shit, if that isn't exactly what one of the notes said, only last week. Steve screws his eyes shut and heaves an aggravated sigh. 

"Yeah, thanks. Listen, I'm sorry Eddie, I really am, but this is kind of a bad time? I'm meeting someone here and-" 

"Ah, the elusive E., right?"

Steve nods. "Right. They'll probably show up any-" 

And wait. 

Wait. 

Hold on a goddamn, motherfucking second. 

He never told Eddie about the notes. 

When he opens his eyes to gawk at Eddie, that smile has turned about one-hundred-and-twenty-three percent more smug. 

"How do you …?" he starts to say. 

One of Eddie’s eyebrows disappears under his fringe. 

"Steve?" 

"Yeah?" 

There's a beat of silence. Something slots into place, and- 

"Oh." 

They both snort matching laughs as Eddie swoops into a bow and offers his hand. 

"Eddie Munson, at your service. Now, are you still game for those drinks?" 

Steve is. 

The next time Eddie slips a note into his returns, he drops the books off in person. 

[hamsterclaw]

Love

Namjoon is your ex-husband, the man who committed when he didn't really want to. So why is he still hanging around now that you're over?

Pairing: Namjoon x f!reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 2.2k

Genre: E2L

Warnings: Sex, mean Namjoon

Kim Namjoon thinks of himself as slow to react, more of an analytical overthinker than a knee-jerk reaction kind of guy.

But when he sees the man put his hand on his ex-wife’s shoulder, he’s stepped between them and steered her away without a second thought.

You look pretty with your hair down, he thinks to himself.

He doesn’t notice the way you’re frowning at him until you swat at his arm.

He realise he’s slipped it around your waist, holding you the way he always used to when you were married.

‘Mr Kim,’ you say, haughty, lifting your chin.

‘Why are you calling me that?’ he asks, hurt. ‘Joon-ah is just fine.’

‘I can’t call you Joon-ah,’ you reply. ‘That’s over familiar.’

Namjoon resists the very strong urge to remind you of all the times you’ve cried his name.

Joon. Joon-ah. Jagi. Baby.

You’re looking at him with a brow creased with concern. ‘Have you lost weight?’

‘Yes,’ he says, seeing an opportunity. ‘I don’t get your cooking anymore.’

‘Namjoon,’ you say, stern. ‘You can afford to eat anything you want.’

‘It doesn’t taste the same without you,’ Namjoon says. He flashes a dimple at you for good measure.

‘Stop trying to be cute,’ you chide. ‘It doesn’t suit you.’

In all reality, Namjoon’s never thought of himself as cute, but you’ve always seemed to find him so.

He smiles, and he can see the corner of your mouth tugging upwards.

Then you sigh. ‘Come on then, let’s get you some food.’

Namjoon places a hand on your back as you leave the room together, enjoying the familiar feel of your back under his palm.

You arch a little, reminding him of a angry cat.

‘Namjoon,’ you say, warning.

‘Sorry baby,’ he murmurs, obedient. 

You look at him, eyebrow raised, and he grins at you, cheeky.

You laugh. ‘Namjoon. Stop.’

Namjoon knows he’s in then. It’s never that hard to work his way into your good books. 

***

The next morning he wakes to your naked back as you sit up. 

‘Hey,’ you say. 

He loves the warmth of your smile, especially when you’ve just woken up like this.

‘Hey,’ he says, shifting in the sheets, propping an arm behind his head.

He can see the way your eyes drop to his bicep.

‘I’ve been working out,’ he tells you.

You roll your eyes and get up, ignoring the way he’s openly ogling your ass.

Your back to him, you ask, ‘hey, want to get dinner later?’

Namjoon’s been watching you so closely he can see the way your whole body stills, just for a moment, as you wait for him to answer.

He doesn’t want to give you false hope. 

You’re exes for a reason.

‘That’s not a good idea,’ he says.

Your voice comes out smooth, assured. 

‘Of course,’ you say. 

You’re fully dressed now, slipping into the heels you were wearing last night, picking up your clutch.

You turn to him. 

‘See you around, Namjoon.’

Namjoon watches you walk to the door of the bedroom.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t get up to see you out.

You keep walking like you don’t expect him to.

***

The party Namjoon’s at is a drag, his date is beautiful but her friends are dull, uninteresting.

He’s considering pulling his date into a corner, a quiet alcove, a little light seduction, when you walk into the room.

You don’t see him at first, which is funny because he’s one of the tallest people in the room.

He drinks you in. You shine, you always have in his eyes, with the way you hold your head up, the way your eyes coolly survey the people around you. 

The dress you have on makes his pants feel tight at the crotch. 

You’re looking around, casual, and then your eyes meet his.

And freeze.

Namjoon drops the arm he’s still got loosely slung around his date.

The look in your eyes makes his heart squeeze. Then you look away, and when you meet his gaze again your expression is shuttered.

You wave a hand at him, casual, and turn to greet the couple who’ve approached you.

It’s a while before you’re unaccompanied.

Namjoon comes up to you, confident in the way he knows you find attractive.

You smile at him, cool, confident in your own way.

‘Nice dress,’ he says.

‘This old thing?’ you reply. You take a sip of wine, eye him over the glass.

‘Enjoying the party?’ Namjoon asks.

‘I am,’ you say. ‘You?’

‘More now,’ Namjoon says. 

He moves so he’s closer to you. He’s always liked the way you have to look up at him.

You’re not looking at him, though. You’re facing away, and Namjoon realises you’re looking at his date, coming towards the both of you.

Hye Mi’s no fool. She takes in the way he’s standing, turned towards you, and she smiles sweetly at him.

‘Shall we get going, Joon?’

Namjoon allows himself to be led away. He looks back at you once, and you’re staring down at your wine like it’s fascinating.

There’s something about the line of your shoulders that speaks of emotion, held back.

He thinks, not for the first time, how beautiful you are.

***

Namjoon’s at the gym working with his personal trainer, when he sees your familiar ponytail.

You’re running, facing out at the floor to ceiling windows, ponytail bouncing, expression determined.

Namjoon sees an opportunity when the machine next to yours frees up.

He gets on, catches the way you look over casually then freeze when you see him.

You smile and then turn to face forward again.

He’s a patient man. He runs alongside you, slow, until you stop your machine and get off.

You’re out of breath, sweating, hair sticking to your face.

You’re beautiful.

You say, casually, ‘See you, Namjoon.’

‘Wait,’ he says. ‘Want to get a drink?’

***

He ends up buying you a beer at the sports bar a block down from the gym because ‘one drink, somewhere close’ is all you’ll agree to.

You’ve changed into a hoodie, baggy sweats, tied your hair back loosely.

You eye him over your beer. ‘All good with you, Mr Kim?’

‘All good, Mrs Kim,’ he replies automatically, because it’s what he used to say to you.

Your mouth twists into a grimace.

‘Yeah sorry ex Mrs Kim.’

Namjoon’s irrationally annoyed with you, like how he felt in the final stretch of your failed marriage.

You’d acted like you couldn’t stand him, looking through him, acting like you and he were in a race to check out. 

One you were determined to win.

And now you’ve both lost. 

A part of him wants you to pine after him the way he pined after you. He’s still butthurt about it, so sue him.

Namjoon looks up at his name being called.

Hye Mi’s walking towards you both, a furrow between her brows that gives him a tingle of discomfiture. 

‘Hey,’ she says, voice sharp.

You look up, and Namjoon can see the way your back snaps straight.

‘What’s going on here, Namjoon?’ Hye Mi asks.

‘I’m having a drink with Y/N,’ Namjoon replies. He’s got just enough beer in him to not give a fuck about Hye Mi, he’s still got just enough residual anger with you to not care what you think, either.

Why does talking to you make him so angry sometimes?

‘You’re divorced, right?’

You look up, brow raised, that cold bitchy face on that makes Namjoon simultaneously aroused, scared and a tiny bit in love with you.

‘Yeah but we still fuck sometimes,’ you reply, brazen, shrugging with a calculated insouciance you only get when you’re angry. 

Namjoon’s been on the receiving end enough times to recognise it, now.

Hye Mi looks at him, like she’s waiting for him to speak up.

Namjoon can’t muster up anything better than, ‘yeah, we do.’

You snort, Namjoon laughs, and Hye Mi storms away.

You chug the last of your beer and get up. ‘You’re an ass,’ you tell him. ‘She’s not gonna fuck you again.’

Namjoon shrugs. ‘That’s what you said when I moved out,’ he reminds you.

You laugh quietly. ‘You’re an asshole, Namjoon, no wonder our marriage didn’t last.’

‘Wait,’ Namjoon calls after you, as you turn and step away. ‘Aren’t we going to?’

You give him a once over, from his scuffed sneakers to his loose sweats to the chain between his collarbones. 

‘Nah,’ you say. ‘I have plans.’

Namjoon watches you walk away.

***

Namjoon’s loading groceries into the back of his car when he sees you, walking briskly towards your car. 

You walk fast, always like you have somewhere to be. 

He’s about to call your name when you’re greeted by a tall man in a suit. 

The way his hand slips under your elbow, helping you reach up to press a kiss to his cheek, rankles Namjoon. 

It’s familiar, intimate. 

Namjoon calls your name anyway. 

You turn around, scanning for him. Namjoon notices then that you’ve got makeup on, that your hair is styled beautifully.

That the dress you’re wearing showcases your perfect ass the way it deserves to be shown.

You walk over, the tall man in tow.

Namjoon’s got no interest in a dick swinging contest when you spent the night riding his own dick two nights ago.

You’re introducing the tall man as Seojoon, and Namjoon works to hide the flicker of emotion across his face when you introduce him as Namjoon, your ex husband.

How well do you know this guy that you’re so open about the truth between you?

Seojoon nods very politely. ‘Shall we get going?’ He smiles at Namjoon, a clear dismissal, and Namjoon moves quickly. 

He says your name, locks eyes with Seojoon over your head as you turn to him.

You’re looking up at Namjoon, curious.

‘Let me know if you need me,’ Namjoon says quietly, leaning down to speak close to your ear.

‘I’ll be fine,’ you reply just as quietly.

Namjoon watches, jaw set, as Seojoon cups your elbow and leads you away.

***

The buzzing at his door is insistent, like someone’s jabbing erratically at the call button.

Namjoon already knows it’s you.

He pulls open the door, scoops you into his arms and tosses you on the couch.

You’re looking up at him, lips stained from red wine, hair falling over one eye.

Namjoon cups himself over his loose sweats.

‘Get on your knees,’ he says, voice thick from the sleep you pulled him out of.

You’re already sliding down to the floor, head in front of his crotch.

Namjoon weaves a hand into your hair, grips tight.

‘Come on, finish what you started,’ he says, harsh.

You haven’t done anything but look up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, and Namjoon’s cock is already filling out.

‘Didn’t he fuck you well enough?’ Namjoon jeers.

He pulls your face against his hardening cock. 

‘Why’d you come to me, ex-wife?’

‘I don’t know,’ you spit, defiant. 

It’d be more convincing if you weren’t already burying your face against his crotch, mouthing over his erect cock.

‘I know,’ Namjoon says, voice velvety as you tug down his sweats. His cock jumps out, pokes you in the face, and you moan like you can’t wait for it.

He grabs your hair, tugs you up, slaps your hand away from where you’re trying to grab him.

‘Because no one fucks you like I do,’ he tells you.

His voice is quiet but stark in the silence of his apartment.

He pushes your legs apart, enters you, and the breath you suck in sounds like a sob.

He doesn’t want to see your face right now.

Namjoon stares at a point in the wall as he begins to move, concentrates on how your cunt feels around him.

You’re so quiet he wants to check on you but he can’t. 

He doesn’t give a fuck but that’s not the whole story, because behind the wall he’s built he thinks that he still loves you so much he can’t face it.

And when you’re under him like this, the look in your eyes makes him want to cry.

Namjoon hisses because it’s snug, him being in you like this. He hits deep, rocking his hips against yours, stroking your clit until your breathing’s more of a steady pant against his neck.

‘Joon,’ you manage, high and sobbing, and Namjoon, against his better judgement, flicks his gaze to your face.

You’re beautiful, and he could fuck you forever if you’d let him.

‘Come on, come on,’ he grunts. He grasps your ass, pulls you against him, grinds his cock so deep he thinks he might pass out from the pleasure of it.

He thinks that your cunt pulsing around him is the single greatest sensation of his life.

‘Fuck,’ he groans. 

You’re milking the cum out of him, and Namjoon needs to give you all of it.

Fuck, he needs to give you everything.

There’s a beat of absolute stillness at the peak of his orgasm as the world stops. 

And then it all comes rushing back.

He floats for a while then, relishing the scent and feel of you.

Your voice sounds out in the darkness.

‘You’re right, Namjoon, no one fucks me like you do.’

Your voice is completely neutral, a cover for the shades of meaning underneath. 

‘I know, baby,’ Namjoon says. 

His tears mingle with yours.

He knows he should get up, but for now, he can’t seem to let you go. 

©hamsterclaw 2023

[thetrashbinseries]

— Fahrenheit Part Two ( bangchan x reader )

rated - mature | minors dni

parts - one, two, three

warnings - idol universe, name changed idols, mature themes, drug use, alcohol use, sexual themes, mentions of mental illness, slight angst, explicit smut, 'daddy' and 'babygirl' petnames, light spanking, heated physical domestic argument

x x x

Jake shot me a text as soon as he touched down in his hotel, leaving me to navigate the aftermath of our little gathering solo. I silently cleaned up the traces of the night, letting my thoughts swirl in the quiet aftermath. Shouldn't I be on cloud nine? Chris, I assumed, had already landed by now, maybe snagging his stuff from the baggage claim. Why the resistance to me picking him up? Couldn't he save some cash and avoid those Uber headaches? As I mulled over Jake's words from our earlier chat, a wave of guilt washed over me. If someone messed with my career, I'd probably cut ties too. 

But did it have to be face-to-face? 

Suddenly, two knocks jarred me, throwing my dogs into their usual frenzy of barks. Now? It felt too soon, like breaking a speed record from airport to doorstep, factoring in landing, baggage, and Uber waits. My motion light, unnoticed until now, flickered on as I was lost in thought. My palms got a little clammy as I fished out my phone, checking for messages from a friend dropping by. But all my friends were back in my hometown. 

Unscheduled visits are a rarity out here, that’s part of the reason why I picked such an isolated home. 

Scrolling through my phone, the doorbell rang out, setting my pets into a louder commotion. Activating the security camera app, I saw Chris on the screen—dark hoodie, black beanie, and chill gray sweats. Hands in his pockets, a visible exhale, like he'd been holding his breath. Just one piece of luggage, small enough to be a carryon. Skipping baggage claim altogether, I guessed. 

Maybe he didn't want to risk airport paparazzi, but at this hour, it'd be a ghost town anyway. 

I unlocked the door, slower than planned, giving it a cautious swing open. Stepping back, I left room for him to enter, the question of how to react buzzing in my head. Hug him? Kiss him? Do a little happy dance? God this is awkward. Chris sniffed, a hint of red on his nose, and began shedding his shoes and beanie, shaking out his curly hair. He looked wiped, but it had been ages since I'd seen him without the makeup mask.    His eyes told the tale of tiredness, the faint shadow under barely-there brows, and the shifts in his skin tone—all untouched by the glam squad. Even a touch of facial hair peeked through, a secret sign of the real guy behind the polished pretty boy image, something he religiously stayed on top of. All the things that make him very human.  The things not many people get to see. 

"What changed?" I threw the question at him, arms crossed in the entryway. Our eyes connected for the first time since he rolled in. I caught a flicker in his right eye, a giveaway of stress and insomnia. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips, a nervous move, just enough to reveal a hint of his dimple near his mouth's corner. 

Undeterred, I pressed on, "Channie—" 

His eyebrows pulled together instinctively, a tough look in his eyes. "Don't call me that," he shot back, a stern expression etched on his face. 

Frustration bubbled up, my voice amped up involuntarily, control slipping away. 

"What the fuck is your problem? What? Did you catch a red-eye just to come argue with me?" 

"Yes! I caught a red-eye fucking flight to—"    Chris cut himself off mid-sentence, sucking in air sharply through his teeth, muttering something under his breath in Korean. He ran his hand down his face, eyes closed, releasing a breath before locking eyes with me again. The anger lingered, but it was transforming into something I couldn't quite put my finger on. 

I could feel hot tears threatening, but I held them back, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, refusing to show any weakness. Was this the end? 

"Of course, I hopped on a flight to have it out with you. Isn't that what you wanted?"    “Don’t you gaslight me Christopher Bang, I’m not your little fucking fans–” 

He looked exasperated, hands out, "What do my fans have to do with this?! You said it's simple, am I coming or not? I'm here, just like you wanted, because it's all about you, isn't it?" 

I turned away, striding off, the red haze building within me. I wanted to lay into him for talking out the side of his neck like this, but I wouldn't stoop to that level. His voice echoed down the hall. 

"Yeah, walk away. It's your specialty—running away." 

I halted, closing my eyes, back turned to him, grappling with the urge. I fought it hard; he was on the brink of hitting below the belt. Logic eluded me at this moment. 

"I'm going to smoke before I physically violate you." 

Attempting to walk away again, his footsteps echoed behind me. Chris wasn't the type to follow for an argument—that was typically my role. I expected him to detour to the kitchen for a drink or something, anything other than what he actually did. His hand seized my forearm, yanking me hard enough to turn me three-quarters around. I saw red, wind knocked out of me as my back slammed into the wall, caged between his big, loud hands thudding against the wall beside my head. A flinch—a moment of confusion. Had he struck me? 

Quickly assessing, no parts of my body ached except between my shoulder blades from the impact. 

Breathing heavier than anticipated, Chris mirrored the sentiment. 

"Physically violate me, then," he uttered, his voice dangerously low, just above a whisper. My body was confused, my brain a tangled mess. His intense gaze bore into my face, forcing me to look away. He tilted his head, compelling eye contact once more. 

"It's not rocket science, Y/N." 

The phrase echoed from our earlier phone argument, reigniting my hostility. I raised my head, meeting his eyes with a narrowed gaze. "I hate you," I snarled, trying to slip underneath his arm to free myself. Chris wasn't having it; he gripped my wrist behind my back, pressing my chest against the wall. His muscular frame kept me in place, his chest against my back. I twisted my wrist, but he tightened his hold. His breath grazed my shoulder, his words so close to my ear it felt like he was feeding them straight into my brain. 

"I hate you too, baby," he murmured. His free hand ghosted the tendrils of hair that had escaped my messy ponytail, tender and gentle unlike the firm grip on my wrist. As his fingers swept the hair away, soft lips pressed against my skin, eliciting a sigh from my lips. Each kiss left thorns of heat, moving along my neck, down to my shoulder. 

"I hate you," I repeated, losing my edge. 

"Mmm, shut up—I know," Chris replied.    Finally, he releases me, his hands finding their way to my waist beneath my baggy sweatshirt. Despite being in my home for a few minutes, his touch is still cold against my warmed skin. I feel a shiver as my nipples harden, and he seems to sense it, cupping them, squeezing. My knees almost buckle as I lean back, my head perfectly resting on his shoulder. Our bodies intertwine, fitting together like a perfect puzzle piece. His fingers pinch the pebbled flesh, drawing a moan from me and an audible sigh from him. 

He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer, and I can feel his hardness against my backside. It's not a gradual thing; he's already rock stiff, hips grinding into me as his hands explore my body with a passionate messiness. 

What were we arguing about again?    Lust swirls, making me dizzy with how good my body feels. My eyes lose focus and regain it with every recovery breath as he squeezes at the extra padding on my hips and waist. No part of my body goes untouched, and I try to shake off my reservations.     No, that was a hang-up of mine.    Christopher Bang is here to touch, lick, and squeeze every inch that belongs to him. 

A tap on my hip brings me back to reality—a gentle reminder between us whenever things heat up in unconventional places. 

Against-the-wall activities are actually pretty uncomfortable in real life. 

Who knew? 

He takes my hand, and I follow him like an excited puppy, almost stumbling over myself to reach his body once we get to the couch. It's my turn now; my hands have a mind of their own too, you know. 

Such a soft face without makeup, I'd almost forgotten the hardness of his body—had it become even more solid? My hands run over his abdomen, feeling something different—less lean, more meaty. Usually, I go straight for what's mine, but now I'm curious. Gripping the bottom of his hoodie, I can sense the muscle shirt underneath, so I yank them both off, the scent of his body wash, cologne, and deodorant hitting me all at once, etching the experience into my mind on nearly every sensory level, except for... 

Taste. 

As his clothes drop to the floor with a muffled thud on the carpet, he turns to face me. His skin is less milky, more sandy tan, and wheat-colored under my warm lights, unlike the artificial ones he's usually bathed in. He must've soaked up the sun in LA, and I can still see it reddening in the places where blood has surged the quickest. 

He's completely under the spell of carnal sensuality—deep in the well, unable to see anything around him, becoming the parts of himself he wouldn't dare confront in the daylight. I notice because I pay attention to things like that—I see the way he looks at me, as if I'm his most treasured plaything. His mannerisms change, slower, with certainty in every touch. He says things you wouldn't dare repeat once he's back to his Earth self, lest he deny, deny, deny, laughing loudly overtop of you, or cringing away from embarrassment. 

Yes, as I drop slowly to my knees, watching him, I see the way he stands in his masculinity, divine, a god in his own right. Just when I think the moment can't get any hotter or I might combust, I hear him—a puff of air through his nose, a lazy, almost entertained, but not quite—chuckle. His lip quirks ever so slightly upwards. 

"You hate me?" 

Heat radiates from my body; I'm certain I'm letting off steam at this point. I feel it, especially in my face, fingers wrapped in the waistband of his sweatpants, hanging loosely as I look down, unable to maintain eye contact, feeling regret building up in me. I can tell by the way he says it that he never believed it—but still... 

"I didn't think so," Chris' voice answers the unspoken questions in my head. His fingers graze the bottom of my chin, urging me to look at him. "Look at me while you do it." 

My engine roars to life without hesitation. I tighten my grip on his sweats, yanking them down with determination. He kicks them off, backing up to sit on the couch, but I'm not waiting. I take the caramel-colored, thick head of his dick between my lips, halting his retreat. The sweetness of his precum floods my mouth, turning bitter as it reaches the back of my tongue and throat. Flattening my tongue against the bottom of his girthy shaft, I open my mouth, letting him rub his sensitive, unsheathed tip against the warm, back wall of my throat. 

Obediently watching him. 

He likes that, making it clear by placing his hand on the back of my head, urging me to stay while he thrusts further, pulling out just a centimeter to plunge into my throat. Small gasps escape his lips every time my gag reflex spasms around him. I run out of breath, choking backward, and he lifts his hand, allowing me to right myself. 

"C'mon, babygirl—thaaaat's it—fuck." Chris grips what's left of my ponytail, guiding me back onto his dick, all the way to the back, with no true mercy. A few more tiny thrusts, and I'm coughing again, my mouth and jaw drenched with slippery saliva mixed with the constant ooze of his precum. He glances behind him, ensuring his seating, then lets himself fall back onto the couch, hand tangled in my thick hair as I wrap both hands around his cock—a pretty, deep brown, a stark contrast to his body tone. 

When I start focusing on stroking his sensitive tip, he drops his head back, emitting the most delicious groan. Pulling back on his sheath, dribbling spit onto his tip, I begin jerking him again, taking advantage of the smoothness the extra skin provides. I follow with my mouth, taking in whatever my hands can't reach, and when I start with the suction, another groan escapes him—this time, broken, his hips rising a little off the couch, encouraging me to keep going. 

"Oh God—that feels fucking—incredible; don't you—fucking stop."    His chest moves with each gasp as I twirl my hand a certain way. I try to stay consistent, but it's been a while, and my neck strains from the bobbing, lips growing numb. But fuck, he's so hot; I don't wanna stop. 

I engage in a slow rhythm, savoring the silky feeling of his dickhead against my swollen mouth and eager lips, pressing loud, wet kisses against it. He's lifted his gaze to watch, and I seize the opportunity to run my tongue along his length, exploring the prominent ridge beneath. 

"Oh my God—" His head drops back, words and vowels drawn out in ecstasy. 

I lean back on my heels, hands taking charge, a twist here, a firm grasp there. When I lean forward and start slurping again, with all intentions of taking this man’s soul—his hips withdraw, and he halts me with a breathless, "Fuck," sounding like he just finished a sprint. "You almost made me cum," He taps my shoulder twice, a signal we both understand, prompting another switch in our silent dance. 

I’m more than happy to obey, feeling how wet I’ve become when he pulls my sweats off as I climb onto the couch on my knees, my arms resting on the head of it that rests against the wall.   I can feel his hands, now warm, even hot almost against my ass as he spreads me open.  I curl my fingers into the couch with anticipation, and then comes the feeling of both of his fingers entering me first.  I let out an eager moan, reveling in the relief and satisfaction of being touched by someone so skillfully.  He’s curling two fingers, stroking my spot, I can feel his pinky and index splayed against my juicy, wet pussy lips.  The filthy sounds amplify as he increases the pressure, prompting me to move against his touch, the base of his hand firmly against my asshole. 

“Mmm, baby, you know how much daddy loves to eat this pretty little cunt—but the way you’re clenching around my fingers, fuck I—I gotta feel you.”  Chris slows down, he speaks again, reminding me of his proposition, “Is that alright babygirl? Hm? Can daddy fuck you now?” 

“Mhm, Mhm!” I can’t think straight, why was he asking? Of course he could fuck me ten ways from Tuesday in a handstand for all I care!  Just— 

“Fuck me.” I beg, unsure if I meant to finish that thought out loud. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, you know that?” The weight of his knee presses onto my leg, his foot securing his position against my other thigh, his thumb against my asshole as I begin to feel his dick stretching me open, eliciting the weirdest, downright feral sound from deep within my gut. He’s raw, and I swore I could feel every vein, every ridge, and his head passing through every sensitive quadrant of my pussy until his balls tickled the lips covering my entrance.  It was then that my walls squeeze around him, desperate to feel him move.  I could almost make myself cum just like that—I begin moving against him, caught in the intensity of the moment, like a cat in heat, and he’s so deep, I feel him in places that make my eyes flutter. 

Thumb leaving my sensitive hole, Chris takes firm hold of the sides of my tummy, rutting into my heat, sending a shiver through my spine that puts me into an arch. He seizes the chance to hold the front of my neck, adjusting me for a slower, more profound connection, exploring every inch of me.  It takes a lot of stamina in the legs for this—of course he’s got that.  I rest my hand on his thigh beside me, feeling the firmness, digging my nails in as I grit my teeth together, the pleasure overwhelming me as our bodies, beginning to get slick with the fluids between us, rock desperately against one another. 

I'm released, and I lurch forward, barely snagging myself on the top of the couch. Just then, I sense it against my left hip— 

 tap tap 

My vision snaps back into focus as I hear him breathing as heavily as I am, flopping down onto the couch. I take the lead, hovering over him. We both gaze as his dick is swallowed up by my pussy, inch by beautiful inch.    I let out an incoherent sound, a mix of a grunt and a moan, my arm draped over his shoulder, fingers entwined in the curls at the nape of his neck as he thrusts. My touch shifts from gentle exploration to grabbing fistfuls of his thick, silky, curly hair at the base of his skull. Using my knees for stability, I sync with his rhythm, adding those addictive hip circles that set every part of me ablaze like a pinball machine. The alarms blare, the lights flash – this, right here, is my favorite way to connect with Chris, where we're on an equal playing field. 

As we delve deeper into each other's gaze, the intensity heightens, but there's always a moment when one of us surrenders, head lolling back, eyes rolling together. His hands work my hips in rhythmic circles, like a baker kneading dough on a board. Yet, I sense when he's had his fill as he takes back control, lifting me up and snapping his hips into me at speeds that defy reality. My cries become a constant stream, shameless screams of his name, erratic and desperate. 

"Yeah, thaat's it—"    I can feel my walls softening as my body begins to literally feel like it's filling up with water that’s threatening to consume me any second now.  I’m gasping, trying to form the words to tell him I’m almost there, that he can’t stop, or even slow up, he’s got to keep going, I’m certain if I don’t get there, I’m going to die. 

“D-Daddy, don’t—” I can’t say anything else, I can only hope he gets it. 

And he does. 

Chris always gets it. 

“Gonna stop---all your bitching, hm?”  He’s holding my waist to allow me the freedom to focus on my impending orgasm. “Gonna let me do my fucking job from now on, yeah?”    “Mm--yeah!”      “Say it,”    “Chris!” I whimper in protest, “I’mma s-stop fucking---bitching!” 

“That’s my girl.”    He slaps my ass, sending a shock through my body, but before I can recover, he strikes again, and again, and my body becomes quickly hyperstimulated. I start letting go, my breath held hostage in my chest as Chris lets out a stream of curses, hitting his peak and spilling inside of me.  I can feel it, it’s carrying my climax out even further, and when I finally collapse, with him still inside, I can feel my entire body buzzing, and I’m muttering something that doesn’t make sense to myself or him. 

We're both catching our breath, heart rates settling down, but Chris finds joy in this aftermath. He chuckles, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my lower back, exploring the dimples above my tailbone.    "What are you saying?" he asks. 

"I love you. I love you, and I never want us to breakup. Ever," I say, more composed now, my cheek resting on his shoulder, eyes closed, the pull of sleep threatening to take over like it always did after a proper orgasm. His arms wrap around me, securing them with a grasp on his own wrist. I feel a sense of security. 

"I love you too. I didn't come all this way to break up with you," he reassures me. I lift my head, likely with my hair wild and untamed. 

"Really, Channie?" 

He laughs.  The nickname is cleared for use again. He kisses my lips.

"Of course not. Why would I cross the country just to break up with someone? That seems like a lot of...effort," Chris continues. He tilts his head back to gaze at me, tucking his chin in. Once he sees my focused attention, he looks ahead as he talks. "I want to be with you, or I wouldn't have made you my girl—" 

"You didn't," I interrupt, sitting up. I pull away from his lap, wrapping the knitted throw over myself as I nestle into the couch beside him. 

He looks puzzled, "I didn't? Really?" He shrugs, raising his brows. "I always thought you were." 

The relief floods in. 

So, we were on the same page. 

Curiosity takes over, and I inquire, "When did you start thinking of me as your girlfriend?" 

"Mm." Chris looks up in thought before locking eyes with me again. "The first time we had sex." 

I'm taken aback by the memory. It wasn't a smooth ride, ended up in a heated argument. "When I got caught outside the building after our studio session? Chris, you almost jeopardized your whole career after that." 

Chris tugs at the blanket's end, and I hand it over. As he slides underneath, he takes my foot into his lap, rubbing circles into the center. "That's not how it works—don't get me wrong, it was... difficult. It still is, which is why I couldn't just decide to show up when you asked. I've been allowed, by contract, to date for a few years now." 

"Then why are we sneaking around like you're ashamed of me or something?" I hug the blanket tighter, feeling exposed. 

Chris seems thrown by this revelation. "Ashamed of you for what? You're beautiful, talented. I don't—did I give you that impression, babygirl?" He shakes his head. "I'm protecting you. You've just been signed to a major label, and we've got a good thing going, yeah? Why mess it up now when we can wait for things to level out for the both of us?" 

He makes some valid points. It's reassuring to hear he's not ashamed of me. I start to feel the familiar peace his presence brings. It's been four months since we were last in the same country, let alone the same city. I grew impatient after he came in on business and then left again, making excuses not to see me. That's why this time, I escalated it and added pressure. 

"Level out, what does that mean?" I ask. Chris sits back, mindlessly running his thumb over the pads of my toes while looking at the coffee table's candle. 

"I think we'll know once we both get there." He looks up to me. "I'm sorry, babygirl. I wish I had a better answer for you right now." He sounds sincere enough. I believe him. He's given me no reason not to trust him before, right? His fingers stop on my soles, and he tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if trying to see something better. He leans forward, picking up the knitted beanie near the ashtray. 

My heart drops when I realize what it is. 

But why? I didn't do anything wrong.    RIght? 

"This new?" He turns it around on his hand. "Where'd you get it? I like it." 

Caught in the moment, I blurt, "A gift." I reach forward, taking it before he can spot any stray hair that doesn't match mine. He's not checking that closely, at least not yet. I turn it over in my hands. "I've been keeping it cold in the house, so it helps keep me warm," I say, tossing it onto the beanbag chair. I turn to him, nudging his shoulder as I scoot closer. 

"Sooo, how was KCON?"  - fin

[endwersed]

Will there be an update soon? Asking for a friend!

There will be! I'm 10k into my third round of edits with 7k still to go, so I'm pretty hopeful that it'll be Tuesday at the absolute latest when I can get this next chapter out. I know it's been longer than usual, so - as an apology for the wait, here's a little snippet of what's to come 😊

-

Derek is staring straight ahead. His mouth parted, his eyes fixated, locked onto the wall opposite them. Stiles follows his gaze and finds himself drawn towards an old picture of Eli, hanging just beside the window.

It is a framed photograph. Eli is so young in it, too, still just a toddler. He has tufts of dark hair, wispy and thin on the top of his head, and his chubby cheeks dimple with his gap-toothed smile. He is right in the middle of being pushed on a swing, his little fingers clutching out in front of him and his legs dangling out ahead of him. His tiny, adorable face is scrunched up in a laugh that Stiles can still hear, almost, trilling in his ears.

In the background, almost completely out of focus, Stiles is just about caught in the frame, as well. His shirt hangs loose around the collar, draping away from his neck, drooping over his clavicle. Eli was in a big grabbing phase when that picture was taken, Stiles remembers, and it was typically either Stiles’ clothes or Stiles’ hair on the menu for him. Stiles steered the kid towards clothes whenever he was able. At least insentient material didn’t hurt when it was being tightly gripped in Eli’s surprisingly strong little fist.

His much younger face wears a matching grin to Eli’s as he pushes his giggling son. He would have been happy to keep on pushing until Eli said otherwise, too. Luckily, his dad was there to play the sensible voice, to force them all out of the park and back home before the evening started to sweep its darkness over them.

That was who took the photograph, too – his dad. It had been a good day. A good day after a long, steady stream of bad days after worse days. That picture was the week Stiles finally managed to land the same server job at the diner where he still works now. For the first time in a goddamn while, things had started to look up for them all. Their day out to the park was a celebration.

“Oh, yeah.” Stiles does not try to fight the nostalgic smile that clings to his mouth as he turns back to Derek’s still wide eyes. “He was a real cutie, wasn’t he?” He pauses to breathe a laugh, tilting his head to one side as he narrows his eyes slightly. “I mean, he still is now. But he was a lot less sassy back then, at least.”

Silently, Derek’s jaw works. A crease lines between his eyebrows as he glances back and forth, and back and forth, between Stiles and the memory fixed to the wall. Stiles’ own smile falters, just slightly, unsure what to make of Derek’s reaction as the silence draws on between them for seconds longer.

“Yeah.” The single, eventual word comes out of Derek raw, choked, his throat clicking around the end of it. He catches onto the confusion twisting Stiles’ face with a faint shake of his head, a quick flicker of his eyes away. “I’m sorry, I just… I hadn’t seen any baby photos of him before.”

Stiles’ mouth flattens instantly. His nails scratch into the rough material of his jeans as he blinks across at Derek’s open, gutted expression, and a pang of guilt squeezes like a vice around his heart, his chest shuddering with his next shaky exhale.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” he admits quietly.

His bottom lip stings as he rolls it roughly between his teeth. With slow, stiff hands, he sets the book aside, tucking it neatly between his thigh and the side of the couch. His eyes dart over to the bookshelf in the corner, resting there for a hesitant moment or two, before snapping back to Derek.

“Do you want to?” he offers.

Derek’s light eyes grow even wider. They seem to almost shine in the late morning sun.

“You wouldn’t mind?” he asks, his question almost breathless.

The aching hope hanging from Derek’s every word almost makes Stiles flinch away. He swallows thickly, not letting even a second pass before he forces his trembling voice to respond.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he answers, soft and sure.