#because i love all his nasty little wrinkles but

[rhymesswith]

One of my besties is getting married this month and wanted to incorporate our baby boy into some of the table cards and thank you letters so I got to design these little templates featuring the handsome man himself.

[arminsumi]

HE'S GOT A RING ON HIS FINGER

GOJO さとる + fem!reader

A married dilf Gojo wants you to have his babies! He might not be married for much longer though

Warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : smut/18+ content : infidelity, dilf!Gojo, cheating kink, reader cheating on bf, breeding kink, unprotected sex, daddy kink, dirty talk

Gojo Satoru has a ring on his finger.

You're reminded of all the shit his wife has said to you when you feel the cool metal of his ring against your skin... as he's pinning your wrists together above your head and stuffing his nasty, cheating cock into you from behind while his wife is god knows where and his kids are at a friend's sleepover.

His friends like you. His kids like you. His marriage is falling apart. Gojo wants to have another baby but his wife doesn't, and he happened to come across you — who has a filthy breeding kink, who he met at some soccer event long ago and now has snaked into his home to become a close family friend.

"Y'know my kids love it when you visit. Wanna be their mommy? Yeah? How about you gimme 'nother one... let me knock you up." and he's saying this before he's inside you, his words turn filthier when his fat cock is getting milked by your pussy.

His cockhead is stroking at your G-spot when he says, "Please... jus'... j-jus' take my fucking seed like a good girl, yeah? Let me get that cheatin' pussy pregnant."

He grunts and keeps pounding away at your cunt like he's a starved man, while you're babbling about how good it feels but at the same time he needs to hurry up, because your boyfriend is texting you asking where the hell you are.

So he grabs your phone and tosses it out of sight so you can't see your boy's notifications anymore. It pissed Gojo off, how dare he interrupt you and him? How dare you bother returning to him when you know no one fills your pussy quite like a man who's already fucked babies into another one. As if your boyfriend could compete.

Gojo's face turns sour, he glares at the place where you two connect; your sloppy, squelching little pussy. He's got that kitty creaming and freaking out on his cock.

"You know your boyfriend could never fuck you like I do... you n-need an older man to treat you right, don't you? F-fuck... ah, god baby you're squeezing my cock so perfectly... you're gonna milk out my cum. Fuck. Stay right there and let me fill you. You want daddies babies, don't you? Tell me... tell me you want it. Tell me you want my babies."

As if you could squirm when he's fucked you out on his bed for well over two hours now.

All he needs to tip over the edge is for you to say, "Yes daddy! Gimme your babies!"

And then he's groaning loudly, rolling his eyes back and feeling his whole body shudder as he dumps a fat, sticky load of baby batter deep inside your quivering hole. He stuffs himself as deep as he possibly can so that you feel every inch of that nasty, cheating cock. The skin at the base wrinkles up as his balls squish against your clit.

He's heaving and panting and gasping with you. You're thinking about how his cock is so much bigger than your boyfriend's, and he's thinking about how much tighter your pussy is than his wife's.

Gojo's gone silent, smirkingly admiring how good you look with that afterglow on your face. He's imagining how you'll look with that pregnancy glow one day.

You're gonna look so pretty when you're pregnant with my kids.

He slides his cock out, kisses your shoulder and massages your numb legs.

Gojo's phone goes off, and you ask who it is. He takes one look at the caller ID, and a look at his seed bubbling and spilling out your pussy hole, and says;

"Oh. It's just my future ex-wife."

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[sagaduwyrm]

DCxDP Idea - Tucker x Tim Soulmate AU:

Now on AO3

So the Justice League believes the Fentons and the GIW. Not completely, but enough. That’s the bad news. The worse news is that they have Danny, and are apparently planning to use him in some kind of spell to banish all the ghosts from the living plane. Which, okay, sure, not the worst idea, except that trying to banish a Liminal is a great way to kill them instead, and guess what everyone in Amity Park is? Not to mention what powering such a ritual could do to Danny.

Tucker is not having a panic attack. He might have one later, but right now he has a job to do.

So the thing about the Justice League is that they’re powerful and together they cover each other’s weaknesses, but individually they are, if not manageable, then at least survivable. They can’t take on the entire league, but Ghosts and their ilk have fangs for a reason, and every predator knows how to divide and conquer.

Technus and Skulker are using Lex Luthor’s tech to deal with the Supers. Jazz has got emotional manipulation and FrightKnight’s sword to take down the Flashes. Desiree agreed to start a mage’s duel with the Justice League Dark. Sam, Ember, Johnny, and Kitty hopefully have the watchtower in hand, with Walker playing backup to get Danny free.

Tucker has two jobs. One, work with Technus to take down the Justice League communications without making it look like anything is up. Two, for the love of the Ancients, do not let the Bats realize something is wrong.

And you know what? He’s got this. Duul Aman was the most feared sorcerer of his time. Tucker isn’t him, not really, but he’s no slouch in the magic department. Egyptian magic, the way Duul Aman knew it, was almost like code. Relearning it was as easy as breathing, but the real reason Tucker’s job is to deal with the bats is because he took it further than his last life ever could. Sure, he’s a dab hand at illusions, his curses are almost as nasty as Sam’s, and instant sandstorms are never not useful, but where he really thrives is with tech. Afterall, if ectoplasm can be combined with computers, why can’t magic?

Tucker is the world's first technomage and he’s goddamn proud of it.

It’s his saving grace now. Infiltrating Oracle’s system took weeks, and he still wasn’t able to look at or do anything important, but it was enough of an opening for his magic. He wormed his illusion through every single piece of bat-tech he could reach, whispering in their ear, Gotham needs you. The Justice League is fine. Gotham is where the problems are. 

Weeks of work and sleepless nights, and he still doubts he’ll be able to keep them from noticing anything for more than a few hours. Luckily, by that time Danny will be free and Tucker will be long gone from Gotham.

This confidence lasts until he brushes hands with another guy in the cafe. He can feel the bond snap into place, a soulmark crawling across his body. Tim Drake stares at him, eyes wide but sharp. 

Tim Drake.

Red Robin.

Shit.

Time to see whether fighting ghosts extends to fighting humans, because he is not letting this asshole mess up Danny’s rescue.

+++

The first thing Tim notices when he meets his soulmate is the rage in the man’s eyes.

They’re really pretty eyes. A bright, glowing gold, lined in kohl. Almost certainly a sign of magic. 

They look at him like the man wants to turn him inside out and burn the remains. Tim’s a little offended, beneath the shock and awe.

“Fuck,” the man hisses. Tim’s offense is starting to supersede his surprise. He’s a catch, thank you very much.

He says as much. The man laughs, and it’s almost friendly.  The cafe is empty. The people of Gotham have good instincts, and there’s something in the air around this man that puts Tim’s hackles up.

“You know, I think that’d be more believable if you hadn’t started this.”

Tim’s brow wrinkled. He felt like he’d remember starting something with his soulmate though? What was he supposed to have started, anyway? Saying ‘this’ wasn’t very specific. 

He rolled and dodged to avoid the sudden lash of golden sand. Ah. A fight. He could do that. Figure out why his soulmate was angry later, defeat him now.

He reached up to call for backup and only got static.

Shit.

He was on his own. Time to show this bastard why underestimating a bat was a bad idea.

[jnnul]

falling in love at first sight (x3)

a/n: so i woke up in cold sweat and i had to write this. there's like 30k i could've written about this but tbh, i needed to get this out lol. also taesan has been living in my head rent free so this is his eviction notice. quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 6.3k

tags: college au!, basketballplayer!taesan x nurse!y/n, honestly it's just a fluff piece, idiots in love, dongmin is DOWN BAD and falls in love with the same girl 3 times, uhh y/n is a feisty nurse warnings: taesan is called dongmin, uhh alcohol + memory loss involved with getting shitfaced lol

HAN DONGMIN DIDN'T REALLY BELIEVE IN SUPERSTITIONS. to him, things like 'knocking on wood' or 'not opening an umbrella inside' were just old wives' tales that didn't have much substance to them.

but after dongmin had shattered his bedroom mirror this morning (he'd accidentally launched his alarm clock across the room after sleeping too late last night), nearly every single thing in his life had gone wrong.

he'd put expired milk in his cereal because kim donghyun (his roommate) hadn't switched out the milk like he'd promised to the day before. then he went to take a shower, only to be burned by scalding hot water since the landlord refused to change the heating system, even though they'd been suffering through the sticky heat of august for fifteen days already. as if all of that wasn't enough, he'd accidentally torn his favorite hoodie trying to clean up the fragments that'd fallen on the floor. and when he was trying to salvage his hoodie, he scraped his forearm against the fragments, meaning he had a nasty gash along the long side of it.

which meant he'd have to go to the hospital to take care of this stupid bloody mess instead of going to class.

that was how han dongmin found himself sitting in the waiting room of the urgent care center of the hospital, a shoddy rag wrapped around his forearm, his essentials hoodie covered in blood, expired milk, and mirror dust.

needless to say, dongmin had gotten more than a few strange looks from the other people in the waiting room in the last four minutes he'd been there.

"han dongmin!" the receptionist calls out, and dongmin launches himself out of his chair, impatient to get this over with as soon as possible.

something about hospitals just gave dongmin the heebie jeebies. the fluorescent lighting, the smell of rubbing alcohol, the tangible feeling of sickness that wafted through the air.

ugh. dongmin hated hospitals. in fact, he was so sure that he would never even step foot in a hospital after this. if he needed to wrap himself in bubble wrap to do so, then so be it because he hated hospitals and he would never come ba -

dongmin stops dead in his tracks, right next to the recovery bed that the receptionist had led him to. standing in front of him was the most gorgeous person he'd ever seen in his life.

you were smiling at something the patient in front of you was saying, leaning over to bandage the patient's scrape with a little bandaid that had cartoon ryans all over it.

fuck that.

dongmin was ready to break his leg if it meant that he got to stay in the hospital and stare at your beautiful face all day. before he could find something big and heavy to knock his leg into, however, you make your way over to dongmin, clipboard and first aid kit in hand.

"hello," you say with a soft smile. "my name is y/n l/n and i'll be taking care of you today. is there anything i can help you with?"

"will you go out with me?" the words escape dongmin's mouth before he can even process what he's saying and you immediately lean backwards, a disproving wrinkle between your eyebrows.

"excuse me?" you say, and it's clear that dongmin's not gonna be in your good graces if he hits on you. he really hoped you were like this with everyone and not that you just found him super unattractive or anything (donghyun swore up and down that dongmin was not ugly - especially now that he'd dyed his hair! but donghyun also never had to chase after a girl in his life so...). or worse, if you already had a boyfriend.

but before he can ruminate about your affronted stance too deeply, dongmin rushes to fix his mistake. "i mean, hospitals really freak me out. the ethanol smell and the lighting and everything kinda gets in my head, you know what i mean? do you think you could just slap some gauze on outside?"

the tension in your shoulders immediately relaxes and you take a step forward once more, setting the first aid kit down next to dongmin.

"oh yeah, that makes sense," you say, sounding relieved. "unfortunately, i can only provide care while inside the hospital to make sure that the instruments and gauze are sterile to prevent any contamination. i promise i'll be as quick as possible so i can get you out of here!" you explain, a slight pout tugging your lips down in the most adorable way as you seem genuinely sorry for dongmin.

it was official: han dongmin was in love.

"no, don't worry. take your time. i mean, the cut is pretty bad and i don't wanna leave any mirror guts in it," dongmin says. as quick as possible, my ass, he thinks to himself. i gotta find a way to make this last for as long as i can.

"of course!" you assure, before looking down at the clipboard. "so i assume you cut yourself on a broken mirror? does it hurt when you apply pressure?"

what was the answer that would keep you here longer?

"yes?"

"are you asking me or telling me?"

"telling?"

"very convincing. i'm gonna need to apply pressure and confirm for myself then, if that's alright with you?" you look at him in a way that seems to be somewhat apprehensive and dongmin has never wanted to reverse time more than in this very instant.

until he doesn't because your hands are on his forearm, examining the wound gently and applying pressure around the open gash.

"does it hurt when i do this?" you ask, eyes trained on the way that his forearm muscles ripple and move as you apply pressure in different places.

dongmin's not the most buff guy on the planet, and you checking out his muscles was definitely not for your own pleasure, but at least all of his time on the court and in the gym has paid off in some way.

"uh...no. not unless you're super close to the cut," dongmin says and you nod with a gentle smile. it's in that moment that dongmin decides that he would kill anyone and anything just to see you smile like that again,

"that's good to hear. well, i guess that all we need to do is 'slap some gauze on' after disinfecting the wound and making sure we don't have any 'mirror guts' in it," you say, a hint of cheekiness in your tone. dongmin doesn't know what it is about it but it makes him blush, regardless.

"yeah. that sounds good," he says dreamily, trying hard to compose himself once more when you flash him a questioning look.

you work carefully on his arm, making sure to give a tiny little stress ball to dongmin to use when you descend upon his wound with some antibacterial medicine and rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball.

"so, uh, you look pretty young for a doctor...?" dongmin says, trying very hard to focus his attention on you instead of the stinging pain that came with every touch of the cotton ball on his wound. the more he looked at you, the more he began to wonder if he'd seen you somewhere before.

dongmin wasn't the superstitious type, and didn't exactly believe in 'love at first sight', but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't place you anywhere in his memory.

"that might be because 'm not a doctor," you say somewhat distractedly. "i'm a nursing student."

"oh. oh! you're a nursing student?" he asks. student. that means that you were either his age or just a few years older than him. and it also probably meant that you were a student at a university near by - maybe his?

"yep. a second year. although, don't worry, i've completed all of my first aid clinicals last year itself," you explain, leaning back in satisfaction when you finish cleaning up the wound.

"my school has a pretty famous nursing program, you know. maybe you've heard of yonsei's nursing program?" dongmin asks, eyes shining with hope.

it's only then that you look up at dongmin with an excited look in your eyes, turning to throw away the used cotton balls.

"i go to yonsei as well! i'm just starting my second year. it's a little strange because the nursing program runs through the summer, which is why i'm working clinicals right now. i'm almost done though, so i'll be switching into a field i'm more interested in," you say and dongmin swears he hears wedding bells in his mind. beautiful, kind, intelligent, and the same age as him? it was like god was basically handing his soulmate to him on a platter. maybe love at first sight was real after all.

"me too! well, i'm not a nursing major, but i'm a second year electrical engineering major," dongmin says, watching you turn back towards him with a clipboard.

"mhm, well, i've gotta tell you to be careful for the next week or so. no heavy lifting, sports, and definitely no cutting things. we don't want to make the wound worse, now do we?" you say chidingly, scribbling instructions on the clipboard of how to clean the wound with rubbing alcohol and how many pills of ibuprofen to take per day.

"of course," dongmin says half-heartedly. as much as dongmin hated the feeling of pain, the was the only way that he could think of to get to see you again was to somehow hurt himself again.

"how about you come back in a week to just make sure that it closed up well? make sure it didn't get infected or anything?" you ask, handing him the sheet of paper.

god was real.

dongmin swore he was going to go to church and donate at least 10,000 won for the blessing after blessing he was receiving today.

"oh sure," he says, a mischievous thought popping into his head. "but is it ok if i find you on campus? i have a lot of labs over the next week and i can't miss them if i can't even participate in them, so i can at least get the information. i won't really have time to stop by the hospital," dongmin says carefully, watching your expression to ensure that it wasn't changing with every word that escaped your lips.

technically, it wasn't a lie. dongmin did have a lot of labs next week but that's definitely not why he wouldn't have time to stop by the hospital.

"i don't see why not. i don't need any sterile instruments to just check quickly, so that shouldn't be an issue," you say slowly, nodding to yourself as you look around the little station to make sure you wouldn't need any of the equipment.

"perfect," dongmin says, shuffling out of the bed that he was sitting in to leave before turning around nonchalantly. "do you think i could get your number? so i know where to find you?"

you look up at him, and dongmin tries his best to seem sincere and genuine rather than as calculating as he felt, trying every tactic possible to see you again.

"yeah. yeah, here let me type it into your phone."

he hands his phone over to you, and it takes every single fiber of his being to keep himself from looking excited about any part of this transaction. you were already suspicious enough of him; you definitely didn't need more reasons to add to the list.

you're frowning slightly when you hand the phone back to him so dongmin pockets it without a second thought, to prove that he wasn't trying to be weird.

"thank you so much again." dongmin waves as he leaves, flashing the award-winning smile that he usually reserves for aunties and restaurant owners for free sides. oh, and for his fans.

you don't blush and trip over yourself when he does like his fans do - although you offer him a soft smile in return.

although, dongmin muses, i guess it would be weird if a nurse who met me for the first time would be anything like a college basketball star's fan though. maybe.

he shakes his head, opening the door to the hospital, looking down at his arm wrapped in gauze. yeah. there was no way that dongmin was taking a break from basketball. season started in less than three weeks and as yonsei's point guard, he had no choice but to just power through the injury.

it might work out in his favor after all. at least it would give him more chances to see you.

+++

turns out, the universe gives him a chance less than two days after he sees you for the first time. and in any other case, dongmin would be incredibly excited to see you again. he'd probably be ready, waiting with freshly showered hair and clean clothes and nice smelling cologne.

instead, when he sees you again, he's wearing raggedy shorts, a stained shirt, and holding a basketball that he definitely should not be holding.

dongmin knew he was fucked the moment you walked in through the double doors that opened up to the indoor basketball court of yonsei, light spilling in from the outdoors, along with the chatter and excitement of students returning to university.

you walk in wearing white, along with six other people dressed similarly, the basketball team's physician (dr. moon taeil) at the head of them all. dongmin hopes that you don't recognize him - or at least don't see him actively playing but of course, you manage to turn your head to see dongmin throw the ball out of his hands in a random direction in panic.

the ball, then of course, managed to fall neatly through the hoop, as though dongmin had intentionally thrown it there, causing him to want to die on the spot.

so he couldn't do that during a game with korea university, but now that he was doing everything in his power to keep you from seeing him play basketball, now he manages to throw it in the one place it shouldn't go.

your eyes narrow when dongmin turns to face you, your gaze falling to his (poorly) wrapped forearm. he offers you a trembling grin, which slowly turns into a frown when you look away, shaking your head as you start talking to the girl next to you.

at least you wouldn't say anything to coach about how he wasn't supposed to be playing right now, dongmin thinks to himself. even if i've effectively ruined my chances of her ever believing me about anything ever again. uh. not that i've had more than one conversation with her. or might have more in the future.

dongmin shivers, jogging over to where the basketball had fallen to pick it up and return to his place at the three-point line and continue shooting practice.

he returns to where he's supposed to be practicing, so that his back is facing the group of people who'd entered - namely, you.

"i forgot coach mentioned that we've got new on-site medical staff," dongmin mutters to himself, dribbling the ball before lining up his shot. "i didn't know that she'd be a part of that though - she can't be the sporty type if she didn't recognize me from the hospital."

dongmin is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't even feel the dark presence looming over him until the ball is released from his hand.

"HAN DONGMIN!" someone yells, right next to his ear, and dongmin scrambles to attention, wincing when the basketball bounces off the rim and into the cart of basketballs he was practicing with with a resounding clang!

he turns slowly, eyes closed, as if that would make you go away.

"i cannot believe that i bandaged you up so carefully just for you to start playing again! how could you be so careless? do you not want to be able to play during the season? you're yonsei's ace and you're being this irresponsible!" you're heaving by the end of your rant and dongmin blinks, trying to come up with a response.

you definitely didn't know him well enough to yell at him like this - much less in front of all of his teammates - but for some reason, that's not what stuck out to dongmin.

(much to his chagrin, you being angry was hot. like really hot. especially since he'd thought you'd be the soft and cozy type, not the impulsive and quick to anger type. he really liked this side of you.)

"you know who i am?" he asks slowly.

"OF COURSE I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! OH, YOU ARE GETTING ON MY NERVES. YOU ASS, I DIDN'T BANDAGE YOU UP THAT NEATLY FOR YOU TO BE WALKING AROUND SHOOTING THREES!"

you're yelling at him, and for some reason, dongmin has never wanted to kiss someone more in his life. he'd never though he'd be this attracted to someone that he's just met yelling at him, much less in front of his entire team and her own entire team. but for some reason, as dongmin looks at you waving your hands all crazy and annoyed, all he can think about it how much he likes you.

it wasn't just physical. of course, he thought you were beautiful - possibly the most beautiful person he'd ever seen in his life and he would die on that hill - but it was more than that. it was as though he'd genuinely fallen in love at first sight.

you could tell him that you were a serial killer and at this point, dongmin would just admire your bloodlust.

"uh. dongmin?" coach jung says behind him, hands crossed over his chest. "do you guys need a moment to step out and come back?"

even coach jung seems a little bit intimidated by your livid state of being and dongmin has to cough to cover up his life.

"no coach. we're done here," you say, turning dramatically on your heel to turn back to your friends. but dongmin moves quicker than even his own mind can process what happens.

before he can think, his hand is wrapped around your wrist, spinning you closer to him, almost as if the two of you were ballroom dancing.

you look up at him, shocked, but dongmin is slow to let go of your wrist, not wanting to lose contact with you.

"no, we need just a moment," dongmin says, his eyes never leaving your own. it's clear that you neither expected this nor were used to this kind of behavior from anyone and before the fight that's building inside of you bubbles out, dongmin tilts his head toward the door that leads to a hallway extending to the equipment room, practically begging you with his eyes.

you aqcuiesce - or at least, dongmin thinks you do - from the way that your shoulder melt just the slightest and you let him pull you into the hallway.

"what?" you snap the second the door shuts behind the two of you. "okay, maybe i didn't let on that i knew you from our encounter, but that's irrelevant. i didn't need to tell you that i knew you. and besides, as your healthcare provider, it would have been extremely irresponsible on my end for me to let slip that i'm a fan - or that i know you personally at all."

dongmin can't help but let a small smile slip. "personally? we know each other personally?"

you fluster in that moment, looking anywhere but at dongmin, bringing a large smile to his face. he'd never thought that the feisty, quick to temper and quick to lose it, loud type was his type but he was starting to enjoy it very much.

"alright, well i know you personally enough, alright?" you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "we've met before."

now it's dongmin's turn to look flustered, as he wracks his brain, trying to come up when or where the two of you have met before. he wasn't the one-night-stand type, so that couldn't be it. he also didn't have an insane amount of friends outside of the basketball team and donghyun's friends, so that wasn't it either.

"i'm really sorry - and i'm definitely trying to hit on you, just not right now - but i don't remember. i'd definitely remember someone like you," dongmin says, and he's well aware of the fact that his tone does not sound any level of displeased, and rather dreamy.

you roll your eyes, looking down at the ground. "we kissed once. twice actually. but um. that's not my point."

you clear your throat, as if you hadn't just dropped the biggest bomb of the century on dongmin, shaking your head. "why the hell are you playing basketball on an injured arm anyway? i specifically said no sports!"

dongmin raises an eyebrow. "you say you're my fan and yet you're still asking me why i'm playing when we have our first game in a week. and hold on. i'm not letting go of that first part; we've kissed? twice?"

you shrug, but it's clear that you don't think of it as nonchalantly as you're trying to make it sound when you speak. "yeah. in freshman year. once in spring semester and then once in fall. it's not a big deal. to you at least. clearly you kiss a lot of girls, if you don't even remember us kissing at all."

"now that's not fair," dongmin pouts, but he's well aware that he's not conveying this well at all. suddenly, a flash of a girl wearing a red dress, looking up at him with big eyes and a pouty lips crosses his mind.

good god. were - were you dongmin's mystery girl?

+++

"what do you mean dongmin finally found his mystery girl? the one he's been crushing on for a full year?" myung jaehyun says incredulously, instantly pulling out his phone to look you up on instagram.

dongmin sits in the middle of his friends, all sitting at the same table as they were supposed to be eating lunch, his head resting in his hands.

"you mean the one that he swore was the love of his life? god, he wouldn't shut up about that for at least six months," lee sanghyuk says, shoveling noodles in his mouth.

"try a year," donghyun groans, rubbing his forehead in pain. "do you remember the state of this kid when he woke up the next day?"

"good god, it was horrible. all he could say for a full week was that he wanted to jump out of the window because he'd lost her number and that he was never going to find true love because he couldn't remember her name, number, or even what she looked like," sanghyuck adds.

park sungho, the newest addition to their friend group, blinks, looking at dongmin, who's head is still in his hands.

"you were down bad, man," he muses and jaehyun on the side of him snorts.

"down bad doesn't even begin to describe it. it got to the point where we had 'girl in the red dress' and 'true love' jars because he would talk about her." jaehyun sighed, looking at dongmin pointedly. "he'd put enough money that we'd bought alc for the rest of freshman year. just in spring semester."

"that's what you get for trying to prove that you could drink a 4lokos without getting shitfaced," donghyun says, nose crinkling as he recalled the hours he had to spend making sure that dongmin wasn't going to die by choking on his own spit. "and he went and did it twice. it took us months to get to the point where we could invite this guy anywhere so as long as he swore not to bring her up again."

dongmin looks up, almost excitedly. "do you think that if i drink another 4lokos, we'll kiss at another party?"

sungho leans over, smacking him upside the head. "you're so fucking dumb. and i can tell just by these stories. you're not allowed to drink until season's over, idiot. and she's on your medical team. why don't you start by making a good impression while you're not so drunk you're going to start insisting that spongebob is hydrophobic."

("you were there when that happened?")

("you idiot, you thought i was spongebob. you kept throwing my drinks away because you thought i was going to disappear into them if i drank them. which makes no sense because that's not what hydrophobic means.")

("oh. sorry man.")

"yeah. just go to the med clinic tomorrow, apologize to her, and bring her flowers or something. women eat that shit up!" sanghyuk says with a mouthful of noodles and jaehyun nods, pointing his chopsticks at him excitedly.

"they do! my girlfriend always feels better with food and flowers," he says, cheeks stuffed to the brim with carbonara.

dongmin's mind races with all of the implications of doing so, but every single one of his thoughts fade away in light of the fact that he could redeem himself in your eyes. he slams his hands down on the table, swinging his legs over the bench to run to the nearest flower shop.

"i'll be back before practice!" dongmin calls out over his shoulder, waving a quick goodbye as he sprints towards the florists.

he makes it to the edge of the courtyard before he hears the yelling of his friends behind him, turning to see them waving at him (and waving some very rude fingers at him).

"YOU FORGOT YOUR WALLET, YOU IDIOT!"

+++

dongmin's friends were useless. absolutely useless.

he'd went and bought the prettiest bouquet of flowers he could find, a nice meal from his favorite bento place, and had even bought three different types of ice cream bars because he didn't know which one you'd like.

he'd walked right into the medical clinic office, his apology gifts all in hand, ready to apologize to you, redeem his honor, and become your own true love.

the last part probably wasn't going to work anyway, but the first two should've been foolproof.

instead, he manages to prove that he was a fool.

as it turns out, he wasn't the only person who thought that the flowers were beautiful; dongmin had managed to bring the queen bee as a secret surprise in the bouquet, which meant that the rest of her hive was NOT very happy that he'd committed royal kidnap, as far as the bees were concerned.

"HAN DONGMIN WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!" you yell from underneath your desk, where you were hiding from the sudden swarm of bees that had followed dongmin in.

he doesn't respond, too busy opening the window to drop the flowers out of, hesitating when he sees the number of people that were lounging around the courtyard that the medical office looked out of.

dongmin lines up the bouquet, sending a prayer to god (any one that would listen) as he shoots the best three he's ever shot in his life, so that the bouquet (and all of the bees that accompanied it) landed far away enough from people to prevent them from getting hurt.

of course, a few brave souls had stayed behind to exact revenge for their queen on dongmin, resulting in upwards of five bee stings, before dongmin finally evaded the great medical bee disaster once and for all.

he turns sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"i don't suppose i could find medical care in this clinic, could i?" he says, and he's well aware of the fact that he's flushed bright red, as he always seems to when he's made a fool of himself.

thankfully, there are only four or five people, including you, in the office to witness this disaster - although, dongmin can see the girl you were talking to yesterday surpressing a smile.

"yeah, of course you could. but we're all headed on break so unfortunately, y/n is the only person who's gonna be able to give you medical care. you know, since you've already brought lunch for her," your friend says with a knowing grin. she ushers the rest of the medical staff out of the office, closing the door behind her with a telltale click.

"you can come out from under the desk now," dongmin says, and despite the situation, he finds it adorable that in the case of a bee swarm, your first instinct had been to hide underneath a desk.

"i was going to," you grumble, slinking out from your hiding spot and dusting off invisible dust from your pants. "what were you thinking, bringing flowers with bees in them?"

dongmin blushes, tilting his head as he tries to look anywhere but where you were. "i wanted to apologize to you. in my defense, i kinda always thought bees were made up. i mean, they're so fat! there's no way they should be able to fly. that directly violates like every law of aviation in the world."

your eyebrow quirks upward as you look at the ice cream and lunch he had set down on your desk in his bee-induced panic. "i can't believe you're quoting the bee movie at me right now."

"i can't believe you know i'm quoting the bee movie. i should've known the love of my life was an internet connoiseur," dongmin says with a sigh, examining the bee stings on his arm. how did these bees even manage to crawl underneath the sleeves of his shirt?

"excuse me?" you bark, hands on your hips. "did you just call me the love of your life? when you couldn't even remember who i was like yesterday?"

"okay, wait. you don't understand. first, i need you to help me out by getting some ointment on these stings because they're starting to burn and i don't know if that's so normal. and then, i'll explain everything, trust me."

you reluctantly reach back into a cabinet that reads 'insect stings' and grab the kit for bee stings, pulling a cream out of it, beckoning dongmin to come closer so that you could treat it.

"do you remember what happened that night? or those two nights, i guess?" you ask softly, eyes trained on dongmin's arm so that you don't have to look him in the eyes and he nods.

"i remember. well, as much as i can, anyway. i was blackout drunk both times. and from what i remember, you weren't exactly sober either, so i don't know how you remember me but trust me, whatever you think about me is not true. i was - i was so down bad that my friends had to make a 'no y/n' jar!" dongmin yelps the last part when your hand on his arm presses a little too hard.

"i'm sorry! sorry!" you gasp, immediately leaning over to blow cool air on the place you'd accidentally put too much pressure. "what do you mean by a no 'no y/n' jar though? i thought you didn't remember my name."

"i didn't! and it killed me! i don't remember exactly what happened those nights but i remember how much i liked you. i remember thinking that i'd never meet a girl like you in my life. it still frustrates me that i lost your number - although, i do remember the part where you smacked me over the head the second time that we met. i think i suffered permanent brain damage from that.

"but i remember glimpses of that night. like that red dress you were wearing and how much you were rambling about stars. you were giving me an in-depth explanation about how black holes work and something about how rockets look like they're stuck in time in black holes. not the point. but the point is that i genuinely fell in love with you that first night we met.

"i've got this horrid habit though, when i get drunk - i become either super scared of water, or super infatuated with it. it's honestly a coin-toss. so imagine my feeling the next morning when i wake up with a dissolved piece of paper in my pocket that's supposed to have your number on it, semi-wet clothes, and a raging migraine.

"i thought i met the love of my life and i couldn't even remember her name, number, or even her face. it drove me and my friends absolutely nuts. me because i didn't know how to find you when i couldn't remember anything. my friends went insane because i would talk about you so much that they bought me those swear jars for every time i mentioned you.

"of course, i didn't know your name so you were just 'the love of my life' or 'girl in the red dress' but i think i dumped at least 300,000 won in those jars by the end of the semester. and then as if the universe was out to make my life living hell, we met again and i was shitfaced again. i swore to never touch a 4lokos after that, if that's any level of redemption.

"anyway. i brought you flowers and all this stuff because i wanted to tell you that - that i've liked you for a lot longer than even i've known! i remember most of the conversations that we had, even if i couldn't remember exactly who you were. when i saw you at the hospital, i genuinely thought i was falling in love at first sight. but i guess, that's kinda not true. cause that would be my third time falling in love at first sight."

"why, though? three times? i mean, i don't think i'm ugly or anything but three times? yeah, i mean i guess i kinda also had a thing for you after those two nights. god. i wish i remembered what we talked about for us to get this attached," you say, mumbling the last part. dongmin turns to you somewhat confused, watching you as you open up the bento box he'd bought you.

"you don't remember what we talked about? besides the black holes and stuff?"

"nope. but i've also got a horrible reputation amongst my friends for how much i talked about you. the worst part is that i remembered you but not what we talked about. it was so stupid because no one believed me that han dongmin, yonsei's point guard was the guy i'd had my heart for the past year." you instinctively smile the moment you take a bite of the food and even though it's so small, dongmin's heart swells with pride.

"why didn't you ever come up to me? i mean, this whole year of pining could've been avoided if you'd talked to me," dongmin says, accepting the ice cream bar you handed him. how the hell did you know that was his favorite ice cream?

"i gave you my number once, and i kissed you twice. i figured you were just ghosting me at some point if you weren't going to reach out to me. and besides, nursing really picked up right after basketball season so...i kinda just ended up torturing my friends for the past year," you say, somewhat sheepishly, but dongmin is barely even listening anymore.

after all, how many people can say that they fell in love at first sight with the same person three times?

"well. we're here now. will you go out with me? i promise i won't even touch a 4lokos!"

"deal. as long as you promise to tell me everything we talked about that night. i still can't tell why i fell so hard for you that i chased you down a basketball court in front of your whole team."

"my stellar looks? my killer smile? my stupidly handsome personality? my superb basketball skills?"

"try your stupid attraction to water molecules."

"i have a feeling i shouldn't have told you about that."

+++

freshman year, spring semester.

"really? you've never fallen in love before?" you ask incredulously. you and dongmin are sitting on the balcony of some random friend who decided to throw a party, feet dangling over the edges in between the bars.

"nah. i don't think so," dongmin says, leaning backwards on his palms. "i don't think i've ever met someone who's ever made me feel like my entire heart is their's to do whatever they want to do with."

"then let's play this game," you say, clumsily pulling out your phone. "that one thing on new york times, where you fall in love with someone within 36 questions."

"why? you want me to fall in love with you?" dongmin says, leaning over with a cheeky smile. you push him playfully, focused on trying to pull up the questions list.

"you'd do that whether i told you to or not," you fire back. "and besides, i think i'm a fantastic kisser. so you're probably already in love."

"you're right," dongmin says with a sigh. "i think i am."

freshman year, fall semester.

"question 36. i can't believe we never finished all the questions last time," you say. this time the two of you are sitting so close, dongmin can still taste the watermelon chapstick you're wearing. at this point though, dongmin might as well be the one wearing it.

"to be fair, last time i think we were otherwise preoccupied."

"get your mind out of the gutter!"

"i was talking about how many times you kept getting distracted by the dog."

"anyway. we're on question 36; are you in love with me yet?"

"i should be asking you that. i've been in love."

"han dongmin! i thought you weren't the superstitious type?"

"i'll be whatever you want me to be."

[artdcnaldson]

I have some fluffy fuzzy thoughts to share... I feel like Patrick is one of those people that babies just unexpectedly LOVE

Like imagine he's at a gathering with Art's family and someone asks him to hold their very new, very small, very breakable baby while they're in the bathroom.

Patrick freaks out expecting high pitched wails and a lifetime ban from Donaldson family BBQs.

But turns out his big strong hands are good for holding little people as well as rackets...

ohhhh <3 this is so, so important to me <3

Because Patrick is the type to loudly and frequently say he hates kids. His experience with children comes down to his older brother's hellspawn that make the pretty young au pairs he hires gray prematurely. Nasty, dirty, loud, annoying, persistent. The kind of kids that need to be told No, but never are.

Art's family is different. It takes a village, and all that. His cousin Beth is a teen mom, with a cute, fat little baby that has the same blonde curls as its mother. It has two front teeth already, a gummy little smile when Art's grandmother feeds it bites of some tater tot hotdish that would send Patrick's bubbe into cardiac arrest.

Art happily holds the baby in his arms and he seems comfortable enough. There are so many young kids running around that Patrick figures he has experience with that sort of thing. In his eighteen years of life, Patrick has managed to hold one baby, at age fourteen, when his older brother had his first kid.

The baby blinks up at him, its eyes wide and brown like Beth's are. Beth— who's off making fruit salad and dumped her kid into the first pair of open arms she could find. It's outfit is stupid— a little set of overalls with pockets that have muppets sticking out. What the fuck do babies need pockets for?

"It keeps staring at me," he complains, trying to move in front of Art to break the creepy eye contact, which doesn't work.

"Stop calling him it," Art insists, face twisting with annoyance as he bounces the baby in his arms. "His name is Noah."

Patrick sighs. "Noah won't stop staring at me. It's freaking me out, so make him stop."

Art laughs at that, grinning in that annoying way he does when he thinks he knows what Patrick's thinking. So what if most of the time he does? "What? He's a baby, I can't just make him stop. You're being weird."

No. Weird was the way that Art's family acted. He knew the detachment in his family wasn't normal, but the closeness, the joking, the passing babies and kids and hugging was weird. It was weird that they had potlucks where they would eat servings of each dish and smile even if it tasted really bad. It was weird that Art's other cousin, George, stood up with his wife and proudly announced they were trying for a baby. For all the Zweig's knew, babies arrived in cashmere swaddles carried by some endangered species of bird.

"I have to pee, dude, just hold him for a sec—" Art says suddenly, and before Patrick can do anything, the baby is shoved into his arms. It— he— is heavier than Patrick expects, so dense for something so small.

"Art—" He whisper-yells, but Art's already darting away, leaving Patrick to awkwardly cradle the baby to his chest.

Noah babbles as Patrick swears under his breath. No one seems to look his way— it's too loud for anyone to really care. Beth at least glances over to check on her kid, sees a yawning Noah being bounced in Patrick's arms. He thinks he gives a help me expression, but it's ignored.

Noah likes him. He rests his chubby little face on Patrick's Hollister polo and babbles contentedly once Patrick manages to nervously walk across the room and settle on an old, sunken in leather couch.

Tentatively, Patrick reaches out, lets the baby wrap his hand around his index finger. Noah yawns, his little face wrinkling and scrunching as he gets comfortable. The baby is asleep on Patrick's chest by the time Art returns.

The blond grins as he sinks onto the couch beside him, holding out a plate of baked goods. "Hungry?"

"I can't move," Patrick whispers. "He's knocked out, dude."

Art lifts a marshmallow lucky charms bar to Patrick's mouth and lets the other boy take a bite. "You're good with kids. Girls think that's hot."

"Shut the fuck up."

[katsu28]

☕️ steve harrington and "you called me your friend." "was i not supposed to say that?" "you really think i'm just your friend? after these last few weeks?"

anna u have singlehandedly pulled me out of my steve slump with this request thank you i love you <3

steve harrington x reader, 1.8k, join the celebration!

“Steve, we’re gonna be late for the movie.” 

“Who cares?” Steve’s voice was muffled from where his face was buried in your neck pressing kisses to it. You gave the hair at the back of his head a gentle tug, making him retreat to meet your gaze. His eyes were darker than usual in the backseat of his car, hair mussed, lips kiss-swollen. You were sure you looked the same. 

“Uh, the ticket taker, probably?” 

Steve huffed overdramatically, licking his lips. “We don’t have to watch the movie, y’know. We could always just stay here, doing what we’ve been doing. Doing some more stuff, preferably with less clothes…” You shot him an unimpressed look and he sighed, letting you climb off his lap and out of the car swiftly. 

He followed rather begrudgingly, straightening out his wrinkled clothes the best he could, taming his hair back into the artfully messy appearance he’d styled it in before your hands had been through it. “Do I look okay?” 

“Cute as usual, but you got a little something right there, pretty boy,” You said fondly, reaching out and swiping a smudge of your lipstick off the corner of his mouth. Steve’s eyes tracked your hand, not realizing he was leaning into your touch until your knuckles brushed against his cheekbone softly. He cleared his throat suddenly and you retreated, dropping your hand back down to your side. “How ‘bout me?” 

“Beautiful as always.” He laced his fingers through yours, bringing you forward to dot a few kisses against your hairline before tugging you into step with him towards the movie theater. 

The smell of popcorn hit you the moment you entered, the thought of a mountain of the buttery snack in a bucket giving you a little extra pep in your step and Steve noticed, because he gave your hand a squeeze. 

A voice calling Steve’s name from behind the two of you made you both turn around. A boy and a girl were making their way towards you hand in hand, the girl’s free hand raised in a wave. 

From beside you, Steve beamed. “Hey guys! Didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight.” 

“Oh, Nance wanted to watch Labyrinth again.” The boy tipped his head towards his movie partner—girlfriend, you assumed. He looked at you, offering you a small but warm smile. “What about you guys?”

“This is my friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Nance and Jonathan.” He introduced you so nonchalantly you almost scoffed. If Steve still considered you just a friend after all the time you’d been spending with each other and all the things you’d been doing with each other lately, then you’d hate to see what he did with his other friends. “We were just gonna catch that new Matthew Broderick movie, see if it’s any good. You seen it yet?” 

“Not yet, I was gonna see if Will wanted to watch it with me. Seems like something he’d find funny.” Jonathan shrugged. His gaze just so happened to wander down to yours and Steve’s joined hands, but if it surprised him, he kept his composure, opting for a sharp nod. “Well, we won’t hold you. See you Friday, Steve? Hellfire’s meeting at our house this time and my mom’s making pot roast, so you’d better bring your appetite when you come pick up Dustin and the others.” 

“When do I not?” 

“Reliable as ever, Steve.” Nancy joked. “It was nice to see you again, and really nice to meet you, Y/N.”

You smiled at her as best you could, saying a soft goodbye before they made their way past the two of you. 

“You okay? Kinda looks like you just got sucker punched.” Okay, so maybe your poker face wasn’t great. Steve looked genuinely concerned for your well-being, and you hated how it sent your stomach into a whirl. “Are you sick? Fuck, I knew Mike’s nasty cough would rub off on me, that little shit! I can take you home if you want, don’t worry about the movie.”

“I don’t want to go home, Steve.” 

“We can always catch it another day, it’s gonna be here for a month at least, we—” He’d already started to guide you back towards the entrance, but you stopped him with a palm across his chest. 

“Steve, stop. I’m not sick.” 

“Then what’s wrong?” 

You shook your head. “It’s nothing. It’s dumb.” 

“No it's not. Something’s bothering you, c’mere,” He said gently, gesturing for the two of you to step to the side, out of the way so you could talk somewhat in private. “What’s going on?” 

“You called me your friend.” You said quietly, trying to ignore the ugly knot in your stomach. It seemed so stupid now, getting all worked up over something as silly as a single word, but you couldn't lie to yourself. Or Steve for that matter. 

It did feel like you’d gotten sucker punched. 

Steve shot a confused look at you, tilting his head. “Was I not supposed to say that?”  

“You really think I’m just your friend? After these last few weeks?” 

“I thought—hold on, we were on the same page about this, weren’t we? No labels, no defining anything, just you and me.” 

“Well yeah, but that was before you used your stupid charm on me and made me like you and your stupid hair more than I should.” You were more angry at yourself than anything. You should’ve known Steve didn’t feel the same way about you as you did about him, but you’d stupidly given yourself an ounce too much of hope. 

Never mind the days you’d spent together wrapped up in each other’s embrace, talking about anything and everything until the sun set and your eyes grew heavy. Never mind the being on the phone with each other until dawn poked its head above the horizon, the kissing and the holding hands and the sipping coffee silently in the morning until one of you woke up just enough to fold the other into their embrace. 

All of that meant nothing, because you and Steve were just friends. 

“My charm? What are you—what are you talking about, my charm?”

“You seriously don’t know what I mean?” 

“Does it look like I do?” He shot back, then winced. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so sharp.”  

“You got me flowers last week, Steve!” 

“Yeah, ‘cause they were nice and I thought you’d like them!” He exclaimed, gesticulating wildly. You just stared at him, waiting for him to realize your point. When he did, his mouth dropped into a silent ‘oh’. “I—I didn’t mean—” 

This was your worst fear—the reason why you didn’t want to bring it up at all. You had a good thing going with Steve, and now you’d just lost it. “Just forget I said anything, okay?”

“No. No, stay. Please. Talk to me, I wanna talk about this.” He insisted, nodding fiercely. His hands came to plant themselves on your shoulders, then retreated a split second later, like he didn’t know what to do with them anymore. Not even twenty minutes ago, he’d had no problem touching you. 

You hated how things were already changing between the two of you. All because you’d gotten your feelings hurt about something small. 

“I like you, Steve! There it is. I like you, and I don’t know what to do about it because I don’t know what you want from me.” You blurted, voice strained with emotion. You squeezed your eyes shut, digging the heels of your palms against them tightly for a few seconds before refocusing on Steve, who just looked stunned. “Am I just someone you fill your time with because you’re bored, or is this thing between us going somewhere? ‘Cause if it’s not, I’d like to know now. Before I fall for you any more than I already have.” 

As much as you swore to yourself you weren’t going to cry, you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. You bit down hard on your bottom lip to quell them, and Steve noticed. His expression softened like butter and he reached out, rubbing a gentle hand down your arm.  

“Hey, I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt that way, I swear.” Steve’s voice was soft. Comforting. You could tell what you’d just confessed was really eating away at him. That was another thing you liked about Steve. Whenever you told him something, he always took it seriously. “Guess we do kinda need to talk about the elephant in the room.” 

“By all means, you first.” You muttered, folding your arms over your chest. Steve inhaled a sharp breath, letting it out as a heavy exhale through his mouth. 

“I don’t exactly have the best track record with girls. I’m sure you’ve heard about what I was like in high school. I was a dick, plain and simple. I did things I’m not proud of, and I hurt people, but I swear on my life, I’m not that person anymore. I’m not…him anymore.” He looked almost upset with the way his jaw clenched, brow furrowing deeply at the mention of his past. 

You’d heard plenty about the high and mighty King Steve, and part of you didn’t want to believe it. This was the same Steve who helped old ladies carry their groceries and always played basketball with the neighborhood kids when they needed another player. 

“I guess I just didn’t wanna say the wrong thing and jinx what we’ve got going here, because I…I want this to go somewhere. I really like you too, Y/N. And I know it’s only been a few weeks but I—” Steve cut himself off with a short chuckle, raking a hand through his hair and bunching it at the nape of his neck before letting the strands fall back into place. 

His expression was cynical, like he was positive you were about to reject him and leave him here in this dim parking lot and never talk to him again. You weren’t going to, obviously, but Steve was a worst case scenario kind of guy. “I think I’m already falling in love with you.” 

“You’ve sure got a shitty way of showing it, Harrington.” You huffed, but there was no real anger behind your words. In fact, you were looking at him quite fondly, and the way you bumped your shoulder against his seemed promising. 

“Believe me, I know that already. Workin’ on it everyday, though.” He shook his head with another chuckle. Even you cracked a tiny smile at that, sniffling slightly. “Can we start over?” 

“I’d like that very much.” 

“Yeah?” He perked up, looking pleased. You nodded and he beamed even brighter, sticking his hand out for you to shake. “Hi. I’m Steve, I think you're amazing, and I wanted to know if you’d like to watch a movie with me.” 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[its-time-to-write]

Hi, first off I want to say that I love your writing. It always makes me smile 🙃🙃.

As for my request, I was wondering if you could please write about Jamie soft launching your relationship on Insta and starting to bring it up in the press. You haven’t met the boys and they are trying to figure out who it is based on his comments and Insta posts. (I may have a Pinterest board with soft launch ideas so…use the screen shots on my page as u wish).

If you don’t have time to write this then no worries. Have a nice day!!!!!!!!!

🫲😇🫱

I listened to “Not All Those Who Wander,” by Miss Lana the whole time I wrote this. 10/10 recommend

it’s just wanderlust

“You’re gonna want to hold off on touching me,” you say as you haul your bags into the house. “Kid fuckin’ spit all over me today and I didn’t even have time to change.”

Jamie wrinkles his nose and takes a step back. “Ew. Fucking gross, that. Is that why you were late coming home?”

You nod, shucking your shoes by the stairs. “Uh huh. Had to talk to the parents post-session. Do a little debrief thing. Thing is, they swore their little angel would never do something like that and next time I should just give him what he wants. Only problem,” you continue as you wash your hands in the kitchen sink, “is that my entire job is not giving him what he wants when he’s displaying inappropriate behaviors. I love that kid, I really do, but his parents are complete twats.”

Jamie nods agreeably. “Was it like projectile or spray?” 

You grimace. “Both. Kid’s got mean aim, but decided to switch it up to cover more surface area.”

You look over at the table, which is set neatly. “I know dinner’s ready and I’m already late, but I really need a shower. I can feel like three inches of grime on my skin.”

“Don’t worry about it babe,” Jamie says. “Takeaway reheats easy.” He hesitates for a moment. “Did you want to shower alone, or..?”

You laugh. Cheeky fucker. 

“Give me three minutes to scrub really well, and then you’re welcome in. You sure you’re good eating late?”

Jamie grins. “Babe, I-”

“Don’t.” You cut him off, finger pointed at him. “Don’t say it. I know where you’re going, and you don’t need to finish that sentence.”

Jamie opens his mouth again but you’re interrupting before he can get his next sentence out. “And if you’re about to make a pun with the word ‘finish,’ I can guarantee it’s nothing you haven’t said before.”

Jamie looks dejected, but his ego obviously isn’t bruised too much because he’s still is on your heels the whole way up the stairs. 

—

You’re showered and back downstairs, the both of you eating dinner in pajamas like proper adults, if proper adults decided that they were allowed to sit on the counter in Jamie’s kitchen. You’re not saying much, just swapping stories about each other’s day. It’s never a dull moment between his time at Nelson Road and your time at the behavioral clinic. 

“Who do you think sees the grossest shit?” you had asked one time. 

“Oh fuck love, it’s gotta be you,” came Jamie’s response. 

“You sure? Because you have like, gross men and stuff. Half of them don’t even know how to do their own laundry.”

Jamie had laughed. “I’m fucking sure. Yeah they smell nasty and shit but like, they’re traumatized by some of the shit you have to deal with.”

He’s got a point. 

Neither of you have a whole bunch to say though, and anyway it’s nice to be in a house that’s quiet. 

Jamie’s the one to break the silence. “What if we started telling people about us?”

You give him a look so he hurries on. “I know you said you weren’t ready, especially with all the press and everything, but what if we just like soft-launched it? Y’know, take a couple photos without seeing your face.”

You chew your dinner thoughtfully. Is this a good time to start carefully introducing your relationship to the world? You’re indispensable to your company, although they may decide to place a higher value on their anonymity than what you bring to the table. It’s not easy providing behavioral therapy to clients who prefer their children to remain unknown. But at the same time, you can’t keep quiet forever. It’s not fair to Jamie. It’s like you’re saying this is only temporary. I’m keeping it a secret because it won’t last so it’s not worth sharing. It’s not true. Jamie is worth sharing, and you have the tiniest spark of hope that this thing you’ve kept going for the past six months is going to last.

Well, maybe not so much a spark of hope as a sneaking suspicion. The kind you feel as a kid when your parents swear they didn’t get you want you wanted for Christmas, but you have the vaguest sense that they’re lying. You don’t want to hope, because what if you’re wrong, but then again, there’s a part of you that can just feel it. 

You’ve been silent for far too long because Jamie says, “Babe? If you don’t want to, it’s ok,” except you can see in his face it isn’t entirely ok.

“I was just thinking,” you reply. “I think- I think I’m good with it. You know, letting people know you’re off the market. Plus it’ll be fun to take more pictures together, My mum keeps bugging me for more.”

Jamie grins. “Mint. The lads are gonna be so fucking psyched.”

—

Ah yes. The lads. Or as they’re better known, the AFC Richmond team. It hasn’t been easy sneaking around them, especially because Ted seemed to Know. Jamie came home one day all spooked because he swore Ted knew he was dating someone.

“Stared straight into me soul, he did,” he said. “Fuckin’ told me he’s surprised I haven’t found a girl yet.”

“That doesn’t sound suspicious, Jaim,” you reply, to which Jamie shakes his head vehemently. 

“You weren’t there, that’s what he said, but he meant somethin’ else. He fucking knows.”

You’d laughed and told him it was fine, even if Ted did know, you didn’t mind. 

After that encounter, there had been vague rumblings that maybe Jamie did have a girl somewhere, or possibly several girls at one time, which prompted a very serious conversation with Isaac and Sam.

“Jamie, you have said that you have changed. You are acting like a better teammate. And yet, dating more than one girl at a time is just wrong,” Sam told him.

“That shit’s sleazy, bruv,” Isaac said. “You can’t be playing around like that.”

So they had gotten Jamie to admit that no, there weren’t multiple girls, just one girl who he had met at a café of all places because he was cheating on his meal plan and she was trying to finish some assessments for work.

You wanted privacy and of course you knew exactly who he was the moment he walked up to your table and said, “hey,” so yeah, it was never going to be easy.

But the way you had wavered ever so slightly when he asked you to dinner was enough to make him realize that this was going to be something different. Something real. Because if the allure of dating national football star Jamie Tartt wasn’t enough for an automatic yes, you must be looking for something deeper. 

Jamie wasn’t sure he was looking for that, but hell he’d give it a go if it meant he got to kiss those soft lips even one time.

So fuck him, he’d fallen for a pretty face in a café on a fucking Sunday and now he has to go home and tell you that people know you exist. That a little bit of your privacy bubble has burst.

You didn’t really care though. You’d been pondering the ethics of a secret relationship for a good long while, so maybe it was good that his teammates knew you existed. 

That was a month before Jamie broached the subject of the soft-launch, so you think maybe you can ease into this. It’ll be fine.

—

The first picture is relatively easy. Just a regular mirror pic, cropped of course, with Jamie’s arms wrapped around you from behind. It’s easy to tell it’s him because his tattoo sleeve is in full view. The caption reads, “soft launch,” with a heart emoji.

The like count is through the roof.

You like it too, because what notice will your account garner in a sea of Jamie Tartt fans?

The Greyhounds lose their minds a little bit, commenting fire emojis and heart eyes and trying to figure out who could possibly be there with Jamie. He comes home after training that day to tell you that there’s a rather convincing conspiracy that he’s dating this famous model they’re all obsessed with.

You’re flattered they think you look like her. Even if they can only see your arms and torso.

“This is gonna be fun, babe,” you say, standing on tiptoes for a kiss. Jamie grins. Anything to torture his team.

—

The second picture is posted two days later, with the caption, “date night.”

You’re sitting at his dining room table, candles and wine glasses strewn about, and Jamie’s kissing you at an angle where you can really only see your hair.

For fun, you comment, “omg, I wish that were me.” Richard Montlaur responds to it, “omg same,” so you show Jamie. He rolls his eyes. 

“Lad thinks he’s funny, don’t he?” he asks.

You grin. “You’d never leave me for Richard, would you?”

Jamie shrugs. “Dunno babe, he is kind of fit.”

You smack his arm playfully and say, “Fuck off, I’m better looking.”

—

You’re almost caught before the big reveal. You’re on a coffee date in a small town, miles from Richmond or Manchester or anywhere Jamie could be easily recognized. It’s a sleepy town, mostly old people, which is why you both decided it’d be safe.

You’re sitting at a table with your coffee while Jamie’s up to grab his, when you see someone go up to him and tap his shoulder.

“Jamie? What are you doing here?” Sam asks.

Jamie jumps a little and places to where you’re sitting before he can stop himself. 

“Oh, um, just getting coffee. You know.”

Sam gives him a quizzical look. “Do you know someone here? This isn’t close to home at all. Are you meeting someone?”

Sam glances around the room and Jamie’s grateful that his gaze does not linger extra long on you. 

Jamie decides the best way to answer is to deflect. “Oi, what’re you doing here? It’s not like this place is fucking famous or some shit.”

Sam shrugs. “I like to try a different coffee shop every weekend. Sometimes I bring Dani, but after last time, I think I’ll have to find someone else.”

Jamie risks a glance at you. You’re hiding behind your latte, suppressing a grin. He’s positive you can hear every word they’re saying.

Sam’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “Would you like to sit with me? It looks like there’s only one table left. Unless your mystery girlfriend is here.”

He laughs and Jamie joins in, just a little too loudly, but he can’t think of an excuse to join you at the table so he follows Sam and tries to send you a subtle I’m sorry with his eyes.

You pull out your phone and send him two laughing emojis, then reach into your bag for your book. Might as well get some reading done.

You let Jamie sit for a good half hour before you decide to do something. You put your things back into your bag and walk over to where they’re sitting.

“Hi, um, I’m sorry to bother you, but are you Sam Obisanya? I’m a huge Richmond fan.”

Sam grins at being recognized, while Jamie lets out a small, “Oi!”

“Oh yes, wonderful to meet a fan! I’m just here with my friend.”

You smile and say, “I just wanted to let you know that you played so well last game. I think you’re the best player on the whole team.”

Jamie snorts and Sam says, “Would you like to take a picture? My friend here would be happy to take it for you.”

Score. “That would be awesome!” you reply. “Then I’ll get out of your way. Don’t want to interrupt your coffee.”

—

“Can’t believe you just did that,” Jamie says, shaking his head mournfully another half hour later. “Fucking acting like you didn’t know who I was. Any self-respecting Richmond fan knows who I am.”

You knock into his shoulder lightly as you walk to the car. “Lucky for your ego, I was just acting. And anyway, I’m hilarious. That’s like, my number one quality.”

“Number two,” Jamie interjects, “It’s your number two quality.”

You ask, “Number two? What’s number one??”

Jamie zips his lips. “I ain’t tellin’, babe. Not good for your ego.”

You giggle as he grabs your waist so he can press a kiss to your neck.

—

Posts three and four go off without a hitch. There’s one of his hand on your knee and a timer picture of you twirling under a streetlamp. You both decide that as far as social media goes, this is as much as they’re going to get. But as far as AFC Richmond goes…

“Babe, you left your phone in the car,” you say as you stroll into the locker room casually as ever.

Jamie takes it from your hand and kisses you before he says, “Thanks babe.”

The locker room is silent, frozen. Colin’s body spray slips from his hand and clatters to the floor, and Beard’s just standing and pointing with his mouth open. 

Roy breaks the silence as he growls, “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Sam follows. “You’re the girl from the coffee shop.”

You grin and say, “Guilty.”

Jamie wraps his arm around your waist. “Lads, this is my girl. Babe, these are the lads.”

There’s silence for a moment longer before the room explodes into a flurry of questions. Neither you nor Jamie can get a word in until Beard yells, “QUIET! Don’t be fuckin’ weird!” 

They all mumble, “Sorry coach,” while Jamie whispers, “You can go if you want. I know you’ve got work and shit. I’ll handle them.”

You squeeze his arm gratefully and slip out the door. You know he’ll take care of things.

[myadmiringmind]

In-law Dinners | Peeta Mellark

Peeta Mellark Masterlist

AU: The Hunger Games do not exist. They live in a small town that mines coal.

Word Count: 1.8k

Genre: Fluff | Hurt?/Comfort

Pairing(s): Peeta Mellark x wife!Reader

Summary: You are no stranger to dinners with your in-laws. However, it’s been a while, making you more nervous than usual.

Warnings: Hostility, anxiety, stress, food, just a kind of awkward dinner, and swearing.

Note(s):

Peeta’s mother and brothers suck

Established relationship

|PICTURES ARE NOT MINE|

——————————————————

You were stalling, you knew that. You told your husband that you needed to find a more appropriate jacket to wear with your outfit, instead of the one you usually wore.

You had no doubt that Peeta was aware you were stalling but as the ever perfect lover he is, amused you by playing into your lies.

To be fair, you did attempt to look at the other coats in your closet. Just to see if there was one that would make this night go a little smoother. But as your gaze rested upon each coat that you had personally picked and loved every time that you wore them, your mind could only bring up the nasty comments your mother in law never failed to make.

When you caught sight of his blonde hair in the mirror you pretended to straighten out the nonexistent creases or wrinkles on your outfit that you had already spent too much time worrying about the week that led up to this day. Both of you knew he would see right through this act, but you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about your negative feelings.

He walked towards you cautiously. When you could feel his body heat, he turned towards the closet. He examined the pieces of clothing before plucking one off of the rack.

“How ‘bout this one?” He smiled

You gazed down at the coat and your heart swelled. It was one of your favorites (you were certain Peeta knew), and it would go nicely with your attire.

As you took the coat from him he reached his hand up to your face so that he could push some of your hair out of your eyes.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked softly, gazing at you with all the affection in the world.

You shook your head, drawing your eyes away from him.

He cupped your face gently and brought your gaze back to his, “We don’t have to go.” 

You shook your head again, “Yes we do-” 

“No, we don’t. I am not going to make you do anything that’s going to make you uncomfortable.” You knew he meant it. You didn’t even have to hear him say it.

“I want to do it.” You explained. The unspoken “For you.” hung in the air. 

He smiled appreciatively at you and stroked your cheek. You didn’t even notice yourself leaning into the warmth of his hand. 

“I know my family is hard to deal with..” Peeta began

You were quick to cut in, “Peeta-” 

“You don’t have to say anything, I know they are. Which is why I would never force you to spend any amount of time with them.” He said it so sincerely that you wanted to give in. To say “I don’t want to go” and kiss him goodbye, sit on the couch, watch a movie, and wait for him to get home. 

But you also knew you’d spend that time feeling guilty, even though you shouldn’t, because Peeta is right and you shouldn’t have to deal with your in-laws just for him. But you want to. Because even though Peeta’s family sucks, he cares for them. And he cares for you. And you know he’d put himself in this position one hundred times over if it was your family just to make you happy. 

So you don’t give in, even though you really wish you would. 

Your hand reaches up to cup his hand that was still cradling your cheek. You gave it a reassuring squeeze and looked him straight in the eye as you said, “I want to go to dinner with you tonight.” 

Peeta gazed at you for a few extra moments before nodding, “Okay.” he ended it with a sweet kiss as if to say, “Thank you.”

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

Being in a relationship with Peeta improved your punctuality. You never arrived too early or too late. It was a skill of his you deeply appreciated and made you glad it rubbed off on you.

Peeta carried a tote bag (that you bought for him) with the baked goods he made for tonight in one arm, and held your hand in the other.

Before he knocked on the front door, he looked at you and smiled, “I’ll be right beside you the whole time. We can leave at any point, just say the word.” He whispered in your ear.

You gave his hand a grateful squeeze and nodded.

It took only a few moments after knocking on the door for his father to appear on the other side.

Simple greetings were made. Peeta’s father was easily the most tolerable, even if he could be awkward sometimes.

Peeta’s father ushered the two of you into the house and Peeta placed your jacket and shoes at the sad coat rack next to the front door.

His childhood house was smaller than your home, even though only you and Peeta lived there. Everything in this house was noticeably old and worn out. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if it wasn’t for the tense atmosphere.

You owned many thrifted things, and had done many home projects, but the two of you always felt it made your house more of a home.

As you walked through the small hallway you noticed all the things that were self-fixed and the cracks made in the walls that made the house look even sadder.

The sight of this house around you made you uneasy, your only comfort being Peeta’s hand.

Peeta

You turned your head towards the man you loved and your heart sank. Your wonderful husband who was kind and good, had the misfortune to grow up in a house like this.

He turned his head at the feel of your gaze. Somehow, he was always able to read your thoughts. A sad smile and a barely noticeable shrug was his way of saying, “It is what is.”

You held his hand a little tighter.

If it was just Peeta’s father and brothers, dinners wouldn’t be as hard for you to attend. But it wasn’t just his brothers and father.

Peeta’s mother stood in the kitchen, handing plates to Peeta’s two older brothers to set them onto the table. She had a look of annoyance on her face, just like every other time you saw her.

When she looked up you felt a jolt go through your body.

The woman’s look of annoyance turned to a scowl.

“Took the two of you long enough.” She barked

It was still a couple minutes before the agreed upon time.

“We weren’t expecting so much traffic.” Peeta said in his usual optimistic voice.

Peeta’s words didn’t soften his mothers scowl as she sharply nodded her head towards the small table, “You two can finish setting up.”

Her attitude wasn’t surprising to either of you. You had been friends with Peeta since school and got together before you graduated. You’ve had plenty of time to grow used to the less than hospitable nature of his mother. But it never stopped the anger from building in your chest when they treated Peeta the way they did.

——————

Dinner was..awkward, to say the least. A lot of jabs from Peeta’s brothers and outright degrading comments from Peeta’s mother. Your father-in-law mostly kept quiet unless he was making more small talk.

You truly believed that the only reason the two of you were ever invited to dinner was because of the envelope with a check Peeta would give his father at the end of every visit.

Peeta provided for them, because he felt he owed them for ‘raising’ him.

You agreed knowing it made him feel guilty not to.

The money he gave was some portion of the money that he made from his paintings, never asking or allowing you to give some of your money.

The car ride home was silent, unlike the one on the way there. Peeta was visibly tense and you were sure that you were too. But his hand wrapped with yours wasn’t firm or anything.

When he pulled in front of your house and turned off the car, the two of you just sat there for a moment in the dark.

You rubbed what you hoped was soothing circles on the back of his hand.

When he let out a deep breath you were relieved that you were helping.

“I don’t think I can do this forever.” He muttered

You nodded, “And you don’t have to.”

“Then, why do I feel like I do?” He turned his head towards you, his eyes glazed over in tears.

“Because you care for them…because despite everything they’ve done you give them the benefit of the doubt.”

“I keep thinking they’ll change.” He shook his head, “Then, I see how they talk to you and I..” he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

You squeezed his hand and shook your head, “You don’t need to worry about me-“

“I do need to worry about you!” Peeta cut in with a loud voice, “You’re the love of my life and my family treats you horribly! And-and I let them!”

You think back to tonight’s dinner. How Peeta defended you from every comment, praised you for your achievements, and redirected any conversation they tried to start with you, “You don’t let them.” You brushed a couple stray hairs from his face.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” He shook his head, “I won’t let you deal with this anymore.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “What are you talking about Peeta?”

“The next time they ask us over for dinner, I’ll send the check in the mail. They’ll get the hint.” He said with a sad tone.

“Oh, baby…” you weren’t sure what to say.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to stop seeing them entirely. I’m not sure I ever will. But some time away and some space will be good for me.” He looked at you again, but this time he smiled a little. “I think it’ll be good for us.”

You were close to crying yourself.

“I meant what I said on our wedding day, you’re the most important person to me and I promised to put you above everyone else.” His unoccupied hand wiped away a tear from your cheek.

You leaned in and rested your forehead against his, taking in his words and proximity. You knew how hard this was for him. How hard it’s always been.

“I’m proud of you.” You whispered

Peeta’s eyes met yours and he kissed you. A sweet, meaningful kiss like many you had had before.

Peeta was the first to speak, “Let’s go inside, I want to have a real dinner with my wife.”

—————

“Thank you for coming with me today. I don’t think I ever would’ve found the strength to finally admit to myself…something I think I’ve always known, without you.” Peeta murmured against the crown of your head.

Your head rested upon your husband's chest, listening to his steady heart beat, with one of your hands spread across his stomach, fingers laced with his.

“I love you.” Was your explanation.

You felt his lips curl up into a smile, “I love you too.”

[luvscnarios]

My love, my love ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

Pairing :: Gallagher x gn!reader

──★ Synopsis :: 1.3k words about a simple and domestic life with the one and only love of your life

Notes :: lyrics are from "chemtrails over the country club" by lana del rey. Saw a tiktok with these lyrics and it was like I was hit with a divine revelation, i've never written so fast in my life lol. also new post format who this 😛

Washing my hair

You yawned as Gallagher washed the last bit of suds out of your hair, eyes closed as you loosened up. It’s quiet- surprisingly peaceful- for the land of festivities but thank goodness since you were so sleepy. All that could be heard was water cascading upon you from the shower head and Gallagher’s gentle humming, creating a relaxing atmosphere. 

“You think it’s going to rain soon?” you mumbled in your haze. There was no real reason why you asked this question, you just wanted to hear him talk. 

“I seriously doubt it.”

“I knew that. Keep talking. I like your voice.” The ever-so-familiar rumble of Gallagher’s chuckles resounded behind you and he pressed a chaste kiss to your bare shoulder, reaching for your bottle of conditioner. Well, it was his conditioner too at this point since once you convinced him to stop using that horrid 12-in-1 squeeze tube of a bio-hazard all over himself, he was mooching off all your nice products. Not that you minded, though, because at least now he would come out smelling like roses and cream. 

Once the conditioner was properly lathered into your ends (like how you taught him), he playfully gave your cheeks a squish and cleared his throat. From that alone you knew you were in for a long story, which made you nothing short of happy. 

“Okay, since you asked for it, doll. Anyways, lemme tell you about how some of the newer Hounds almost detained two innocent girls today…” 

Doing the laundry

“Ugh, this smells like ass.” With your nose wrinkled in exasperation, you tossed Gallagher’s work vest into the washing machine as he laughed next to you. Damn this guy for getting away with fixing the dryer instead, his stuff reeked something fierce.

He stood up from where he was knelt at the dryer and bumped his hip against yours, wiping the drops of sweat off his forehead. “What, you thought that security officers smell like sunshine and rainbows? Half of my clothes are covered in vomit from drunken locals.” And like the gentleman he was, Gallagher snorted as he elicited a gagging noise from you. All those times you greeted him home with hugs and kisses were spoiled since now you knew damn well he was covered in some nasty crap. 

“Sometimes, I seriously regret opening my mouth. Just focus on fixing the dryer and if you have any other nauseating secrets you have, tell me now or forever hold your peace!” You shoved the rest of Gallagher’s dirty laundry into the washing machine and before shutting the door, tossed in a generous amount of scent booster beads. 

“Nauseating secrets, huh? That’s a bit harsh. Okay, well, I like to sniff your undies and jerk off, how about that?” He flashed you a cheeky grin and you groaned. As much as you wanted to make a stink about that, you knew he was only joking with you. You think. Didn’t matter because you refused to think too deeply about it. You only gave him a little shove since you were such a good lover. 

“Hey!” he protested with an eye roll and before you could react, he scooped you up and slung you over his shoulder. Like you were nothing but a pillow made of feathers, he held you like you were nothing. You shrieked and giggled while trying to wiggle out of his grasp, to no avail. “Ooh, you had this coming, cutie. Since when did you get so bratty with me?” 

You tried to argue, stammering about the dirty laundry and the broken dryer, but that could all be taken care of later in Gallagher’s eyes. Once he had you in his hold, you were only getting out once he saw fit. And as he carried you to your bedroom, you knew you weren’t leaving his grasp any time soon. 

Late-night TV

Two glasses of Sweet Dream Special on the coffee table in the living room. Instant spicy ramen in Gallagher’s hands and a bowl of popcorn in yours. The TV occasionally emitted a crackling sound due to the old-fashioned film the two of you were watching together, the horror element of the movie only being heightened by the dim lights and nighttime darkness.

Your eyes were transfixed on the screen but the slurping of noddles could easily be heard coming from Gallagher, hearing him sniffle as the spiciness of the ramen made his nose run a little. “This movie is real interesting, yeah baby? Notice how the camera constantly is cutting between Marion and the bathroom and the music only seems to grow more intense. Instead of giving the viewer a cheap gory jumpscare, the director drags the suspense out to make the viewer feel scared. Hell, I’ve seen this movie like twice already but I still get all tense.” 

Your big man and your bigger yapper. It was honestly adorable how passionate he got about these things since he’d always act like he’d seen just about everything under the sun. Just to mess with him sometimes, you’d say he was too nonchalant for his own good but gods, when he got all nerdy about what he loves it was the sweetest thing ever. 

Setting your bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table, you carefully took Gallagher’s face in your hands and leaned in for a kiss. It’s nothing too out of hand, just a gentle kiss where you could feel his lips on yours. Slowly you deepened it and the taste of spice and alcohol on his tongue had you not-so-subtly moaning into his mouth. You only pulled away so soon when you heard a scream, opening your eyes just in time to see the movie’s protagonist stabbed to death in the shower. 

“What the fuck?! We were having a moment!” Gallagher’s snickers made you grumble but you settled to nuzzle into his side, sighing that your romantic moment with him was ruined. Still, it felt fulfilling having him so close to you on such an undisturbed night.

I want you only

“Move it.”

“Excuse me, what happened to ‘please’?”

“Move it or I’ll bite you. Lovingly…but hard.”

Despite your grumbling, you rolled off Gallagher’s body to lay next to him in your bed, glaring at him the entire time. But as soon as you got off him, he rolled on top of you and promptly buried his nose into the crook of your neck. His stubble grazed your neck and with his lips gingerly pressed against your pulse, you felt impossibly more closer to him than ever before. His entire weight had you pinned to the mattress like he was your personal weighted blanket. 

You gave an approving hum and curled your arms around his waist, feeling the bare skin of his lower back. It was a rare night when curtains were drawn, the lowlight lamp was lit, and your favorite three-wick strawberry shortcake candle was lit. With the two of you only in your undergarments, it was a quiet and intimate affair to have such skin-to-skin contact. And while you could still hear the neverending hustle and bustle from outside, this bedroom is a heaven where only he and you existed. 

However, with one theatrical groan from Gallagher, you were pulled out of your thoughts, blinking and glancing down to see him shifting his head to your chest to look up at you with those sleepy eyes. It was his way of silently asking you for affection and you did what he asked, petting his head with one hand while scratching him under the chin with your other. “Silly guy. The silly billy. The stinky. My stinky. Forever, you hear me?”

It felt nice to prattle on such nonsensical pet names, each one more egregious than the last. My babygirl. My pookie bear. My honey bunny boo-boo. It was all said satirically but you felt all giggly when it came to joking around, especially since you could hear Gallagher snickering too. A comedian, he’d call you, in between very prominent purs you felt rumbling from his chest as you moved your hand to scratch him behind the ears. 

“I want you only, okay? Only you for all of me.”

[spacebarbarianweird]

Please, what are you headcanons about Astarion and human Tav/Durge? There's obviously the angsty issue of humans having one of the shortest life spans of all DnD races but that's only as angsty as you want it to be in this setting (and the stories you can tell about it are what makes it fascinating). Still... What's your take on it? Would that be a disaster for a proud immortal elf?

Since humans are very diverse I decided to take female human Tav who isn't exactly a big girl but would be considered "curvy" by human beauty standarts.

Astarion x F!Human!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

You are the third child born into a big family of seven.

Unlike your sisters, you are that girl who is always teased for "eating too much" or "needing too much fabric for a dress."

It would bother you if you had issues with self-esteem. But you don't.

"At least, I have some tits and ass!" you jokingly say to people who decide to comment on your looks.

Besides, your father, a native to Frost North, has always told you that "the bigger a woman is, the more chances she survives a winter".

You inherited from your northern ancestors' red hair, the color of fire.

Freckles dance over your pale skin and, when you laugh, you can be heard in the neighboring village.

Since there's not much for you in life apart from marriage, you sign up to join an adventure party.

Being an adventurer isn't easy. It's dangerous for a lonely woman but you manage to find friends and learn how to protect yourself.

And you are still this jolly human woman who just can't allow herself to stop because your years are so short.

You probably regret this attitude when locked inside the Mindflayer's pod with a nasty tadpole behind your eyes.

You gather this group of traumatized people - it's not like you are the most competent person, but you are, at least, not experiencing the meltdown!

Astarion immediately catches your eye - he is an elf. And it's a common knowledge humans see elves as the most beautiful creatures ever.

Does he think he manipulates you into protecting him? Too bad. You decided you weren't leaving this adventure without this handsome elven man by your side.

A vampire? Even better.

You are much stronger than him and a bit taller.

You can easily pick him since his bones are so light.

And he adores your body.

Your breasts are pretty big and your thighs are soft.

He likes using your boobs as a pillow and you don't mind - because it gives you full access to his hair.

Or putting his head on your soft belly and thighs.

He also adores your body hair - especially the one in private parts.

"You know among humans it's considered ugly unless you are a man"

"No wonder human women prefer elves."

You look adorable in dresses with deep necklines and ribbons in your curly red hair.

And Astarion loves seeing you in the morning, when you, awake from your long human sleep, look at the world with puffy eyes trying to apprehend wtf you saw in your dreams.

"Don't even ask, human's dreams are fucked up."

When Astarion is distressed, you often put him on your knees and lull him like a child.

And it's difficult for him to adapt to your lifestyle.

You are considered a slow type for a human but you are still a human

You are ambitious, loud, and fast. You have so little time left, you want to experience it to the fullest.

You are smart, brave, skilled and unstoppable like a human traveler, who decided they want to reach the edge of the world.

You keep being adventurers until it's too difficult for you.

Your red hair turns white, and you have wrinkles. You aren't a jolly red-haired girl any longer.

You are a jolly old lady who can both bake cookies for neighbor kids and beat someone's abuser with a hammer.

The time passes fast and it's time for you to go.

"You were quite an adventure, Astarion", you whisper to him

"And you were everything", he replies holding his tears back.

Astarion wants to leave the moment you find rest in your grave, but your family, the loud red-haired clan doesn't let him go.

Well, it's not like any of them were ever prepared to have a vampire for an uncle but here they are.

Astarion visits them from time to time, seeing how children grow up, how new things get old, and how the village becomes a town and then a city.

Human lives are so short, they make the most of them

Astarion visits less and less and only some of the oldest residents of the city know about him.

"Oh, yeah… I remember. My grandmother once told me her great-grandfather's sister was married to a vampire."

Sitting at the seashore, waiting to sail to the Isle of Evermeet, Astarion remembers the words he once heard from an old elf.

"You need to fall in love with a human at least once in your life."

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

[loliwrites]

November: Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

part four of fountain of sorrow

pairing: javier peña x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  warnings/tags: set between s2 & s3, early/mid ‘90s, single mother [reader has a young daughter][child won’t play a massive role], sassy chucho, chickens, brief discussion of past physical abuse [not graphic], javi being a good girl dad, SMUT, fingering, mild exhibitionism, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, subtle declarations of love-ish, post-sex photos, female reader, no physical description, girl dad!javi, soft!javi, protective!javi, no use of y/n. word count: 8.0k series masterlist a/n: ALL CAPS EXCITEMENT

Javi combed his hair in his normal style, then inspected his mustache, making sure it looked neat and tidy. He ran his hand over his mouth and then jostled his shoulders. A quick glance in the mirror and a swipe at an errant wrinkle on his button down shirt. The last time he’d been on a proper date… well he ventured to figure that was way back when with Lorraine. A little out of practice here, which somehow felt even stranger considering he was so well practiced with the sex that usually came after proper dates.

He’d only just flicked off the bathroom light when the knock at his door came and was paid little attention. Probably just a neighbor. The more who knew he was back in town, the more came over to ask a favor or rehash the miserable past. So he paid the second round of knocking even less attention than the first. Surely they’d get the hint and move on. Leave him alone.

“Javier! Abre la puerta, pendejo!”

No one more than his father loved to call him that. And hearing Chucho’s increasingly frustrated grumbles, Javi rushed to the door and yanked it open just as equally frustrated as his father. “What?”

“That’s how you greet your father now?” Chucho pushed past Javi and entered the house mumbling under his breath, “cabrón.” Then, as if it had taken him a few extra seconds to realize his son looked more put together than usual, he spun around and eyed Javier. His eyes flicked up and down to inspect him. “Where’re you going?”

“What do you need, dad?”

Chucho smirked and folded his arms over his chest. “My boy’s got a girlfriend, don’t he?”

“Dad,”

“Who’s she? Do I know her?”

“Do you need something? I have to leave,”

“Came by to say you’re off the hook on helping me with the chicken coop on Saturday. Throwin’ a pre-Thanksgiving barbecue.”

“Great,” Javi tried to usher Chucho back toward the door.

Chucho complied but not without his own ace up his sleeve, “bring the girl that’s put’ya in such a stellar mood. And before you say no, I’ll make you fix the coop by yourself if you don’t.”

“She’s kind of busy on the weekends,”

“Figure it out, son.”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

You stared at yourself in the mirror, trying not to focus too much on all the things you thought were out of place. You knew in actuality they weren’t. It was your brain nitpicking. And for what? It wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d be seeing you. And clothed no less! Four months of near constant sex over the weekends mixed with long weekdays of enduring solitude and loneliness. But since Javi had brought up the idea of an actual date, there’d been two sides of you tugging against each other. The one side that was excited to see what this meant in terms of what was happening between you two. You hadn’t thrown dating seriously off the table completely, you just didn’t think you’d do that with him. Which is exactly where the other half of you stepped in. The half that was sure Javi wasn’t the person to get serious with. Keep him under the cloak of darkness.

And life had given you unexpected time to dwell on it. Because after it was floated as an idea you had a buffer week of you being busy with Halloween plans. And then the following week Lily was home from school with the flu. The week after that, you’d picked up the nasty bug courtesy of her. By that point, Javi realized waiting for a free weekend from you was costing him more time – at least as a date went. He still got to see you those nights for sex. So he pitched a weeknight date. After work, drop the muñequita off with your mom, and he’d pick you up from there.

“He’s here!” Your mom called out from the other room. You gave yourself one more parting glance before exiting the bathroom. “Why are his pants so tight?”

“Mom,” you tilted your head to the side and complained. It was giving you flashbacks from high school. Back when she’d interrogate your suitors like you assumed a father would, had yours stuck around. But that was all you managed to say before you kissed the head of your little angel who was busying herself with a coloring book. “I won’t be back too late. Probably ten or so,”

She nodded and waved her hand at you. Don’t worry about it. Go have yourself a fun night. And with one last grateful smile at her, you pulled the front door open and slipped out of it just in time to intercept Javi as he was coming up the driveway. He looked just as good as ever. Almost made you sad you’d be in public tonight. And though he looked the same, he was holding a small bouquet of flowers in front of him, and that was new. A little more thoughtful than most gestures from him.

“You look great,” he smiled and leaned in for an immediate kiss. 

You reciprocated instantly, feeling an innate sense that your mom was most definitely looking out the front window, watching you. So you pulled away and looked down at your outfit after a quick, chaste peck. “Yeah? Are those for me?”

“Yeah,” he grinned and handed the bouquet over.

You fondled the delicate petals before burying your nose in them. A surprisingly nice scent, and also surprisingly, not some filler flower. You wouldn’t have expected a guy like him to have good taste. “Let me put these inside. I’ll be right out, then we can go,”

He nodded though you’d already turned away from him, heading back for the house. And seeing as though it wasn’t at all an invitation, Javi stood in place and looked around awkwardly, pushing his hands into his pockets, awaiting your return.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

If there was any part of you that thought the awkwardness would dissipate once at dinner, you were sorely, sorely mistaken. It all remained as if both of you were unsure of who the other person was, what the intention was… and you knew he was picking up on it, too. The way his cheeks grew red whenever he accidentally interrupted you. The way that redness progressed to his ears when he said something that might’ve been a little off-color given your date taking place in what could be described as Laredo’s nicest restaurant.

You’d run the gamut of small talk. Things that were absolutely asinine given the fact that he’d already been inside you. How was the muñequita doing? How was work? What’d you study in school? You figured driving your fork into your eyeballs would’ve been less painful. The wine he ordered hadn’t helped either. And just when you started to think there wasn’t anything here other than a sexual connection between you, the waiter dropped an unexpected dessert on the table between you. A small piece of chocolate cake, garnished with fudge and raspberries. You didn’t know it at the time, but that cake was your saving grace. Whether it was the chocolate, the raspberries, the fact that it was a giant plate of aphrodisiacs, or if Javi just got it in his head that what was happening was ridiculous, he finally spoke up.

“What the fuck’s going on?”

You choked on a raspberry and looked up at him. It wasn’t accusatory. More of just a statement acutely aware of the situation. And it lifted a massive weight off your shoulders and chest. “It’s weird, right?”

He shoved another forkful of cake into his mouth, “we’re so good at fucking, how can we be so bad at this?”

“We should be good at this!”

“We should be great at this!” He agreed, setting his fork down on the plate, effectively leaving the rest to you.

“So make it better,”

And that made Javi smile. The smile you were used to seeing. The one that was way too charming for his own good. Way too charming for your own good. He reached out across the table, palm upright. It struck you as odd that despite having gone through the entire meal, this was the first time he was making an effort at physical contact. Feeling like this might be the last thing you both needed to be at complete ease, you wasted no time in resting your hand in his, fingers intertwining and squeezing together.

“Maybe we should actually get to know each other. I mean, about things other than what gets you off,” he smirked and you sensed the real, true Javi coming back to you. “What’s your story? No one chooses Laredo just because,”

You nodded and set your fork down, buying yourself a little bit of time. You knew this story would require you to bring up your daughter’s father, but you also knew that if you expected him to be forthcoming with the questions you were bound to ask, you’d need to give him something. Like this. 

“My ex, but then boyfriend, got a job in town and I thought we were in love. Because I’m an idiot. So I followed him out here. And about three months later, I’m knocked up, trying to get him to not be an asshole and failing. And the muñequita, as you like to call her, was about a month old when a judge told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t enough to raise a child. That she would do best in proximity to her father. What that judge knew and didn’t care to take into consideration with his final decision, was that her father’s not actually a good person. While he hasn’t ever laid a hand on her, the same can’t be said for his hands on me.” As the words came out of your mouth, they sounded so foreign to you. They were said with such little emotion. So matter of fact. You’d already cried all the tears you had to offer. They hadn’t done you any good back then and they wouldn’t do you any good now. “So I’m stuck in Laredo for a while. Until he proves to be even more of an asshole than he already is. Or until she turns eighteen.

“It’s not all that bad,” you smiled. “I mean it’s not great, but there are upsides. My mom moved from Corpus Christi to be closer and help. So I see her more now than I ever did in San Antonio. And I like my job, clerking. Probably would’ve never got the chance to do it in a bigger city. And honestly… I love your dad.”

“There’s no way my dad’s your plus to Laredo,” Javier grinned, a blush rising in his cheeks.

You giggled and nodded, wrapping your other hand around his so now it was fully encompassed in your grip. “He is. He’s the type of dad I wish I had. The type of dad I wish my daughter had,” you caught Javi’s glance and squeezed his hand. “You know he stands up for me when I’m at the bar? He stands up for all the girls, but I like to think he likes me most,”

“You’re certainly the only one he calls chiquita,”

“He’s a good man,”

Javi leaned back in his chair with a whistle through his teeth. “Then you’ll be glad to know you’re invited to his Thanksgiving barbecue this Saturday. And you don’t have the option to decline, unfortunately. Mostly because you declining means I have to do ranch work.”

“Back up. Explain, Peña,” you released his hand and grabbed your wine glass for a long sip. Chances were you weren’t drunk enough for this.

“He’s throwing a barbecue and insisted I bring the woman I’ve been seeing. Been wondering why I don’t go to the bar with him anymore. Never answer his calls on this weekends. Saw me all fixed up tonight before I went to pick you up. Figured I must shacked up with someone. So… I’m so glad you love him because you have to go,” 

“You know I work weekends,”

“It’s during the day,”

You pursed your lips together, squinting as if weighing your options, “I’ll go if you answer one question,” you smirked. This was your moment to get the answer to the question you’d been asking him for months. “Why’d you leave Colombia?”

Javi’s eyes quickly averted back to the half-eaten dessert between you two. He cleared his throat and pressed his forearms on the table to drag himself more upright. Closer to you now, using it to be able to keep his voice low, lest nosy locals be around. He gave you more of an answer than you ever expected him to. He told you all about Pablo Escobar and the others that made up the Medellín cartel. He gave you details about the violence they were capable of. He explained the delicate spider web of egos that made up the DEA, cartel, and communist guerillas. And how any little fracture or splinter to the egos of the drug lords or communists meant that his life and the lives of other agents were at greater risk. And he gave you all of that explanation and backstory before he got to answering your question. About how he’d skirted around laws to rally the guerillas into an unrestrainable and unmanageable murderous vigilante group, Los Pepes. And then how he flat out ignored the laws and the ambassador. How Los Pepes was a little too good at their job. How he, and the DEA, and CIA knew he’d gotten in way too far over his head and one day they’d be coming after him. And suddenly the thing he’d worked years for – the thing they were so close to he could taste it – was stripped away from him. Catching Pablo Escobar would be someone else’s headline.

And you wanted to… cry for him. For the pain he’d endured, physically and otherwise. For the things he had to witness, whether he’d signed up for it or not. For all the things he’d worked so hard for in his career and would never get the chance to see through. You figured it was where he put all his love. All the genuine love and care that he hadn’t been able to give to a romantic partner, he’d given to his work.

So that’s why how ended up here. Walking up the drive to Chucho’s long, one story ranch house. One hand clutching Javi’s and the other holding that of your daughter’s. Bringing her along hadn’t been the original plan. Hadn’t even been in your wildest dreams until your mom called the afternoon before and said she was going back home, to Corpus Christi, to visit her sister who’d taken a fall. She didn’t want to leave you in a bind… didn’t want you to have to rely on your baby daddy more… but she had to go. And you knew you were already going to have to pawn her off on her dad tonight while you were at The Tack Room, so wanting to limit her time with him as much as possible, you asked Javi if she could come along. Actually, you sprung it on him as he was standing at your front door. Pouted your lips and batted your biggest, saddest eyes at him, hoping it’d be enough to convince him. What you didn’t know was that he didn't need to be convinced. All you had to do was say the word and you’d get whatever you wanted. No questions asked.

Javier wondered what his dad would say when he saw you walk into the backyard with him. And what he’d think about your daughter tagging along. Figured he’d get a good laugh out of it. Out of his son being father-like. Gentle to a little girl that wasn’t his. Javier hoped part of his dad would be proud. He’d prepared himself that this would be your launch to his dad and a few of his friends. What he hadn’t been prepared for was that it’d be your launch to practically everyone in the neighborhood. He heard the Spanish music first; so loud on the radio that he figured the speakers were straining beneath the reverberation. Beneath the guitar and lyrics was the hum of chatter of the neighbors. Some he could point out definitively as he opened up the side gate and escorted you and the muñequita into the yard. Miss Rosalia and her uninhibited, thundering laugh. She was almost as old as Chucho and had spent many nights in her younger years watching over Javi until he was old enough to look after himself. Pancho’s grandkids – Lily and Jason – their high pitched squeals of delight. Which meant their parents, Pancho’s daughter Maria and her gringo husband Michael were surely around too. Yet through all the noise and the mass of people in the yard, Javier found the sight of his father at first glance. On the patio, cowboy hat low on his head, glasses even lower down the bridge of his nose, popping the caps off a couple Modelos.

It was like they were magnets attuned to each other because no sooner than you followed Javi’s gaze toward his father, you found that Chucho was already looking back at the both of you. And before you knew it, Javi was tugging your hand forward, taking you in tow with him. Weaving through the partygoers, you garnered looks from the majority of them… mostly the women, whose eyes seemed to flick between you and Javier and back. As if attempting to figure out what made you so special. And what they didn’t know was that it wasn’t Javi that made you special. It was his father.

“Hola chiquita,”

A beam broke out over your face, “hola Chucho,”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek, then affectionately, looked down. “Quién es este?”

You looked down at your daughter and mentioned her name. Over your shoulder, you could feel Javier’s eyes on her, too. 

Chucho smiled and tilted his hat back, away from his face as he crouched down with a gentle smile, “hola chiquitita,” he held his hand out to her and she shook it.

“Javi calls her muñequita,”

On instinct, Chucho’s eyes flicked back up to his son, “does he now?” And finding Javier’s sheepish expression more than prize enough, Chucho looked back down in front of him, “muñequita, do you want some lemonade?” Off her eager nod, he nodded his head off to the side, “vamos.”

Once you were left alone with Javi again, you looked up at him. His expression still harboring the pink hue of embarrassment. You curled yourself into his side, practically forcing his arm to wrap around you while you set a hand on his stomach. He looked down at you and squeezed your shoulder.

“Good?” He murmured.

“We’re getting a lot of looks,” you let your eyes drift over the crowd only momentarily. Then back up at him.

“Let ‘em look, querida,” he hummed, lowering himself down to crowd your space. And with lips hovering over yours, “let’s make ‘em jealous.”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Javier kept his hand tightly clutched around the muñequita’s as he helped her climb over the two by four protruding from the ground and leading into the chicken coop. She was a little unsteady and gripping his hand nearly as tight as he was gripping hers.

“Careful,” he cautioned softly, “the chicken wire is sharp.”

She looked at her other hand, the one clutched around the hexagonal openings in the wired door. After taking a moment to process, she uncurled her fingers from it and held it out to the side for balance. Javi shut the door behind them once they were in, and he knelt down to fit inside the enclosure.

“Chickies!” the muñequita shrieked at the top of her lungs. To Javier’s surprise, she didn’t seem scared of them at all despite their erratic motion. “This a boy?”

He followed the direction of her pointed finger – to a large, speckled chicken pecking at the ground. He rested a forearm over his bent knee, settling his other hand on his opposite thigh. “These are all girls. You have to keep the boys and the girls separate,”

Only half-paying attention, she reached out to touch it, only to become startled when it flapped its wings. The whooshing sent her hair blowing back and she ran back to Javi, tucking herself into him. Her back pressed up against his chest and her tiny hands on his knee. “Why?”

“‘Cause they’ll…” he stopped himself and curled his arm around her protectively when another of the chickens let out an ear-piercing string of clucks. “Sometimes the boys annoy the girls,”

From your vantage point at one of the tables on the patio, you watched the whole thing unfold in the chicken coop. The way he remained attentive to her the entire time. To how she ran to him after being frightened. And how he went to shield her from harm. Originally you’d thought the hardest thing about today would be dodging all the bitter glances from the women. Turned out the hardest thing about today was fighting the feeling of love that was growing inside you.

And then Chucho appeared beside you, taking a seat and sliding a plate of food over to you. He followed your gaze out to the chicken coop and took a sip from his beer bottle. “He’s good with her,”

You felt your face grow warmer and you decided to cover it up by reaching forward to dip a tortilla chip into some homemade guacamole. “She really likes him,” then pushing the chip into your mouth, “but what’s not to like? You raised a good boy,”

“He’s an asshole,” Chucho grinned. It made you giggle, too. “When did this start up?”

To even your surprise, you told him the absolute truth. Minus all the juicy details about the sex life you shared with his son. But about the day you first met him. And how he’d come visit you at The Tack Room as long as his dad wasn’t there. Chucho scoffed at that. But he softened again when you recounted your first actual date with Javi, and how he’d finally managed to open up about Colombia. As you ended the explanation, you started to feel sort of odd about opening up to him in this way not even knowing how much his own son had told him. Apparently not much.

“He’s treatin’ you well?” Chucho’s gaze drifted back to the chicken coop, where Javi was exiting, this time holding the muñequita. His forearm beneath her legs and her arms around his neck. “I’ll kick his ass if he isn’t,”

“I’ll kick his ass if he isn’t,”

A fleeting smile passed over Chucho’s face. Now Javi was on his way back to the patio. “This ain’t a knock against my son. Javier does his best. But you protect yourself… your heart, I mean. ‘Cause my son’s been known to break ‘em.” Chucho stood up, “got a mind of his own, that one. And sometimes it don’t work too good,”

It was then you looked back up at Javier just as he was setting your daughter down on her feet. She was squirming in his arms, anxious to be set free as Pancho’s grandkids came up and asked if she wanted to play tag with them. Could that be the same man Chucho was warning you about? In the back of your mind you knew it was. Women throughout Laredo could testify to it. But when he fell back in step toward the patio and caught your gaze, the smile that erupted over his face made you think that it was different now. Then it made you think that you were foolish. Who were you to change a man’s behavior? Shit. You hadn’t even able to get your ex to become decent enough to help pay for his kid. 

There was no hidden agenda to your next move. No secret plan to get him alone. Just the discomfort rising in your throat that he might catch on that you were back in your head again. And god forbid you both endure any amount of returned awkwardness like that of the date. So you gathered the empty beer bottles and plastic plates on the table; using the skills practiced to perfection from work, and carried on in through the back door to dispose of them. Perhaps you should’ve asked Chucho, or even Javi, before entering the house. No one had asked you to do so, and you wondered if it was off limits as you carried on into the kitchen. Just outside the window by the sink, you could see the party carrying on, oblivious to your new absence.

But the back door reopened and you looked up at the newcomer, ready to apologize for intruding. But you quickly found it was only Javier. He rounded the counter to approach you; a cheeky grin on his face that he’d finally done it. He’d gotten you alone. And that smile… it got you thinking again that it was different.

“You come to help me tidy up?” You give a smirk of your own knowing fully well he hadn’t. That was surely the last thing on his mind. Proven by the way he slid up behind your and wrapped his arms around your waist; hands wrapping around you and pulling you back into his body. Your ass brushed along the outline of his cock and it had you turning your head to the side to catch a glimpse of him. A disapproving shake of the head. “Javi,”

He tucked his face into your neck and kissed it, grazing his teeth gently across your skin. His hands squeezed your hips, holding you tighter to his body despite your futile opposition. Opposition which ultimately looked like you tilting your head to the side to allow him more space with your neck.

“What if your dad comes in?” Your eyes drifted shut. As if the question would make it come true, you didn’t want to bear witness to it.

“Why would he come in?”

“‘Cause it’s his–”

He cut you off by sliding one of his hands down from your hip and undid the button of your jeans with a quick flick of his fingers. And his hand was beneath the denim before you’d even had a chance to protest. Deft fingers curled along the cotton fabric of your underwear. Just a whisper of a touch over your clit. You thought about resting your head back on Javi’s shoulder, but just before you could, he bumped his chest against your back to get your attention.

“Look,” he commanded and waited a second to give you time to obey him. Which you did on impulse. Javi had leaned forward, his cheek close to yours, both looking out over the bay window behind the kitchen sink, overlooking the backyard. “Anyone could see us right now,” he whispered and nudged your underwear to the side, giving him just enough space for his fingers to resume their ministrations. You knew what he’d feel; knew that he’d soon become aware that you’d spent the better half of the barbecue uncomfortably shifting your thighs together, trying to ignore the fact that watching him with your kin was making you inexplicably aroused. That watching him play with her and hold her and bond with her was more than any man had done, including her own father. 

“Oh you like that, huh?” There was a low growl to his voice, “you like that we could get caught.”

Sure, you thought. Let’s go with that. That was the least frightening of the options. Because having to admit to Javier that it wasn’t the idea of getting caught, but the idea of him being a dad to your child that was making you wet seemed far too vulnerable for your current position. 

His fingers followed your slit from your clit to your entrance and pressed inside you without hesitation. A slow, lingering gasp left your parted lips and you melted back into Javi’s body, using him as the sole form of support in keeping you upright. His lips met your jawline and you could swear you felt them pull into a smile when your anatomy clenched around his fingers.

You shifted your body down on his fingers, “Javi,”

He grinned wider, a shit-eating one he knew you would’ve slapped off his face had you seen it, “I know, querida.” His fingers thrust in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace.

You could feel yourself there on the edge having had more than enough time for the anticipation to build throughout the day. Ready to fall in any capacity he would allow you to. Whether that just meant here, in Chucho’s kitchen, muffled by the obscene sounds his fingers were making inside you. Or if it meant being able to say the words that were right there at the tip of your tongue.

“Javi?”

Your eyes flashed open at the sound of Chucho’s voice. Through the kitchen window, you could see he was still out in the yard, not quite at the patio but making his way there. Beginning to strain in Javier’s arms, he moved the hand at your waist and cupped it around your neck.

“Peña,” you tugged at his wrist but it was a fruitless effort.

“Javier?” Chucho called again, stepping into the shade of the patio awning, into full view of the kitchen window.

Javi kept his eyes glued to you. His hand gained a tighter grip around your neck, and his fingers thrust up into you to the last knuckle  “come for me.”

“Javi,” you moaned and hated the way it came out like it did. You wanted to be strong. Be firm and protest. And yet… 

Javier curled his fingers inside you, against the spongy front wall of your wall, “come,” he growled into your ear, lips pressed against the soft skin there.

If there had been an ounce of willpower within you, you would’ve stopped yourself. Pulled yourself together and shook yourself out of his grasp. But there was no willpower. No way to keep yourself afloat. He commanded and you obeyed. Legs shook until your knees gave out and Javi ws forced to release your neck so he could wrap that strong arm around your waist and keep you on your feet. You came over his fingers and felt it drip down the inside of your thighs. And it hadn’t ended the way you would’ve hoped. No moment of calmness to gather yourself back together. No gentle kiss or a good girl. Just Javi pulling his fingers out of you and removing his hand from your pants. He licked one clean and then wiped them dry on the back of his jeans, already making his way back to the door to intercept his dad.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

You ran up the walkway to your front door, keys in hand, keenly aware that Javi was coming up the path behind you, the muñequita cradled in his arms. She had fallen asleep on the drive over but could hear her grumbling behind you, being awoken. By the sound of it, she was less than happy about it, despite Javier trying to soothe her, and you knew you’d have a hell of a time trying to get her back out of the house and to her dad’s before your shift started.

Flying through the front door and leaving it open behind you, you ran down the hallway and into your bedroom to get changed. The jeans from earlier would suffice, and after slipping into the white tank top that made up your “uniform”, you ran back down the hallway. “Javi, can you help her get her shoes back on? The slip-on ones by the door are fine!”

You ran into the kitchen and rummaged through it for something quick and easy she could snack on for when she woke up inevitably starving and throwing a fit. Some string cheese, applesauce, a juice box… and then you ran back toward the front door and came to a skidding halt when you passed by the living room and saw absolutely no progress being made. 

Progress was the furthest thing from happening. To call this progress would’ve been more than generous. What it was, was Javi sat back on the couch, reclined deep in the seat at an almost unnatural position. The muñequita on her side on top of him; cheek squished to his chest, her knees curled up and her feet settling in his lap. She was already back asleep and looked… absolutely peaceful.

“Javi,” you protested, coming into the room and reaching for her.

But Javier lifted his arms and wrapped them around her protectively, shielding her from disruption. 

“I have to go to work,”

“I know, but look… she’s comfortable,” he patted his hand down against her back softly.

“I have to drop her off with her dad,” you reached for her again, and this time Javi shifted his entire body. “Peña, come on, I’m gonna be late.”

And then the words came out of his mouth. He wasn’t sure where they had come from. You didn’t know either. And he wondered if he was crossing a boundary. “I can watch her,” he met your eyes and to both of your surprise, he looked genuine. “She’s had a long day. It’s easier if she stays here.” And then off your movement of putting your hands on your hips and cocking your head to the side, “I’ll make her dinner when she wakes up. Get her ready for bed,”

“Javi,”

“I can take care of her,” he insisted. “Trust me?”

Though you hadn’t been given many reasons to trust men in the past, you did undeniably trust him. You’d come to know that what he told you the day he met you, was true. I’m the best thing that could’ve walked into your daughter’s life. So you rounded to the side of the couch and bent forward. A chaste kiss to the lips while he held your reason for living was proof enough that you trusted him. You knew that there was probably no place in the world she was safer than with DEA Agent, Javier Peña.

As you carried on to The Tack Room, you wondered if you’d ever hear about what went on while you were away. You wondered how Javi would answer you when you asked how it went. You figured he’d downplay it. Say it was fine. Everything went great. That the muñequita was a perfect angel. You doubted you’d ever hear about the minutiae that made up the hours they had together.

You’d never actually hear about how she did indeed wake up with a fury and a hungry stomach. And the way Javi cut up an apple and scooped some peanut butter into a small bowl for her. Or how he rummaged through the cabinets until he came upon a box of Kraft macaroni. You’d never hear about how they sat side by side at the kitchen table, hunched over their own bowls, and devoured the unnaturally orange pasta. He’d never tell you about how he helped her pick out her pajamas and then waited in the hallway outside her door until she got herself changed. How when she called him back, he found that she’d put her shirt on backwards, and how they’d created a game to get her to slip her arms out of the sleeves and spin the top around until it faced the right way without having to take it off. And surely he’d go to the grave about how she batted those pretty please eyelashes at him – the same ones you gave him when you asked him to get the Halloween decorations from the attic – and finagled her way into staying up past her bedtime in order to play Pretty, Pretty Princess. How he let her adorn him with plastic necklaces and rings. And even plastic, clip-on earrings. But of course she won and was the only one to get the bejeweled crown. He’d also never admit how late it was by the time he finally got her to go back to sleep. How he’d kind of bribed her with some chocolate chip cookies, or how he sat on the floor by her bed and patted her back for far longer than was probably necessary before she drifted off to sleep and he was able to tiptoe out of her room. He’d never admit that because it was a little more than an hour before you were unlocking the front door and slipping back inside after your shift.

The TV was on. The news. For some reason, you didn’t think Javier was one to watch the news. His head rested on his fist, feet up on the coffee table. He was awake but his blinks were getting longer and longer. When he finally noticed you in the threshold, he sparked up and lifted his head. Lowered his feet to the ground as if you finding them on the coffee table would make you think he’d made himself too comfortable.

“Querida,” he smiled and stood from the couch, making a quick move toward you.

“The house didn’t burn down,” you mocked lightly and wrapped your arms around him when he came into your space. His lips met yours quickly before trailing down to your jaw and neck. His laugh was muffled by his mouth being pressed to your skin. You lifted one hand up to the back of his head and stroked your fingers through his hair. “How’d it go?”

“Easy,” he lifted his head and smiled, “she’s a good kid.”

You smiled and brought your hand up to his mouth, trailing your index finger over his bottom lip. “I didn’t  thank you before,”

“You don’t need to th–”

Before he could finish, you fully cupped your hand over his mouth to get him to stop speaking. “No I do, because not having to leave her with her dad tonight lifted a tremendous weight off my shoulders.” You removed your palm from his mouth and hooked your arms over his shoulders. “And I love” you noted how Javi’s eyes seemed to widen a bit at the use of the word, “that she feels safe with you.”

“I just–”

You pressed your index finger to his lips again to stop him. “Shh, nope. Just… take that, and…” you took a deep breath in. A new smile spread across your lips, “I’d really like to give you a blowjob now, so we should go do that.”

“Whatever you say, querida.”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

“This mouth,” Javier groaned, staring down at you, knelt over on the mattress while he stood beside the bed. He lowered a hand to your cheek and brushed the backs of his fingers over it. Meanwhile, your mouth was giving a valiant effort at making him come undone. “I love this mouth,”

A hum floated out of your lungs and up past your vocal chords. Lips that had been brought up to the head of his cock, wrapped tightly around the crown, pressed forth once again until your nose brushed against his waist. Judging by the breath that choked in Javi’s throat, you knew he wasn’t lying. His hand migrated from your cheek to the back of your head, where he gathered your hair into a ponytail and held it away for your face. For more of a better view of the thing he knew would be his undoing.

With the leverage of the ponytail, he guided your mouth along his shaft. The power out of your hands, you hollowed your cheeks and closed your eyes, completely focused on the pressure you applied to his member with your lips and tongue. Forced yourself to swallow back the gagging that nearly consumed you when he pushed himself down your throat. And when you re-opened your eyes, blinking back tears, the fondness you found within Javier’s gaze was something new. If your mouth hadn’t been full, maybe you would’ve mentioned something about it to him. Asked him where this new perceived fondness was coming from. It couldn’t have been the blowjob. You’d given him plenty before. And perhaps even more enthusiastic head before. But something about this in this moment warranted a new look from him and you weren’t given the time to ponder it. To try and get to the bottom of it. 

After you noticed the look, Javier was easing your mouth off of him; relishing in the way your lips tried to hold onto him tighter. To keep him in your mouth. But he was stronger, and no sooner than he was freed from your mouth, he bent over and pressed a kiss to your lips. His tongue pushed into your mouth without hesitation. There were things you wanted to voice and bring light to. Things on the tip of your tongue that you thought might be worth throwing caution to the wind. Things you were sure would be met and reciprocated and yet…

“Peña,” you murmured in between kisses and felt his lips tighten into a smile against yours.

He backed away from you, a coy smirk on his face, “what, querida?”

“Do you like me?”

Javier rolled his eyes, affixed his hands to your shoulders and pushed you around until you relented and continued on with his gesture. His tongue darted out over his lips when you’d finished the motion, now finding your ass toward him. “No, I hate you,”

Your jaw dropped and you looked back over your shoulder, but Javi just grinned harder and pressed his hand on your upper back, pushing you down to the bed. “I’m serious, Javi,”

“Me too,” he ran his fingers over your entrance once before placing them on his shaft and notching himself at your core. 

You opened your mouth again to protest but he pressed in, bottoming out in one fell swoop that your protest came in the way of a needy moan. Your fists closed around the bedsheets. His girth stretching you out almost uncomfortably, had it not been for the way he also bent over you. His knees now pressed on the mattress, his chest against your back, and his lips at your ear. Kisses trailed from your earlobe down to your neck and shoulder. Powerful thrusts left you gasping for air.

“Hate that you got me wrapped ‘round your finger,” he mumbled against your skin, teeth nipping at any flesh they could. He pushed himself in rougher, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix. “Hate that you know it,”

“Got’cha,”

Javi quickly pulled out of you and pressed on your hip until you rolled over onto your back. Staring up at him once again, you noticed that look of fondness hadn’t left his face. Whatever he might be saying about the “hate”, it didn’t live in his soul. Hell, it barely even lived in the words. He eased back into you, gentler this time, looking right in your eyes, taking it all in. Wholly focused on the way your jaw fell slack when he pressed into you to the hilt again. He brought his hand to your open mouth and dragged his thumb over your bottom lip. Soon replaced it with his lips for a kiss; slow, passionate, tender. And his hips followed suit. Thrusts much slower but not any less deep or forceful. He kept you connected for as long as possible.

“What the fuck are you doin’ to me?” He whispered.

You let out an airy moan and followed it up with another smirk, “making you come.”

He shook his head. His languid movements now made for the perfect position for his member to rub against your gspot, and his waist where you were connected rubbed against your clit. “What’re you doing to me in here,” he pressed his index finger to his forehead. Your smile faded for something else when he moved that finger down to his chest, “and here.”

You pouted your lips and furrowed your eyebrows, trying not to let that get you too emotional. He’d only half-expressed what you thought he wanted to. What you wanted to. But staring him in the eyes wasn’t doing much for your composure. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him forward, you kissed him again and hoped it would get you back in this moment – this sexual moment – without the threat of love dipping off your tongue.

The kisses were endless. Whether it was to your lips, jaw, neck, or chest, Javi didn’t let a moment go by without his lips adorning your skin with some form of attention. And when you both came – one after the another, but you first – you held onto him tightly. Fingernails digging into his shoulder blades and scratching downward. If you couldn’t say the words to make him yours, you’d certainly leave a mark to do so.

“Shit,” Javi grumbled, feeling himself throb inside you.

You smiled to yourself and scritched your fingers through his hair. The stickiness between your legs increased as he pulled out of you and your shared spend dripped out of your core. Once he was completely unsheathed from you, Javi rolled over onto his side and stretched over to reach the nightstand. There was something endearing that he knew the drill: finish the nightly conquest. Document it with a photograph.

The camera was in your hand in the same moment you’d repositioned yourself along the pillows. Comfortably stretching yourself out, you knew there was a finite amount of time until you had to run to the bathroom. But Javi took the drill and altered it. Usually the night ended with both of you trading off, taking pictures of each other. But this time, Javi curled into your side, wrapped his arm over your hips, and buried his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Javi, I have to get up to take it,” you tilted your head toward his in an effort to shrink away from him. But he only held on tighter. His grip around your hips more possessive. A playful nip landed at your jugular.

“Take it like this,”

There it was. The words at the tip of your tongue again. Love. Love. Love. You turned the camera around; lens facing you. For the first time both Javi’s and your face in frame. Together. No chance at hiding identities. Your finger froze at the top of the camera. Perhaps to give him one last chance to change his mind. To come to his senses and tell you to wait… that he’d get up and take a picture of you first. But an interjection didn’t come. He didn’t try to stop you. His thumb rubbed back and forth over your hip bone. His lips stayed planted to your neck. While you faced the camera full frontal, only Javi’s profile was visible. But what a profile it was – the strong, curved nose, the sharp jawline… 

You snapped the picture and freed it from the camera after it printed. Javi took the camera from you again and set it back down on the nightstand before returning to the spot he had previously been in. A soft woosh woosh woosh filled the space between as you shook the photo. Slowly the gray square turned to color and brought forth the image. The first of its kind. Javi turned his head away from your neck in order to look at it. A quick smile passed his lips.

“That’s a pretty picture of you,”

You cringed at the photo and slapped it down on your chest to hide it. “I hate my neck,”

Javi furrowed his eyebrows, “what’re you talking about?” He grabbed your wrist to sneak a glance at the picture again. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out what you were seeing in the photo to make such a comment. “I love your neck,” he leaned back in and bit your neck. This time a little harder than before.

And it made you shriek. A delighted, high pitched thing that nearly made you forget the qualm you’d had with the picture in the first place.

[ju1cyfru1t]

Hey, this is my first time requesting something, but I was wondering if you could do the ROTTMNT boys x a reader who’s like terrified of needles? Like the sight of one is fine but once they hear about a finger prick or a shot they freak out and start to cry? It’s kinda weird but I experienced something like this earlier and I just got the idea… Thank You!

Hope you love it! :) <3

rottmnt x reader

S/O with trypanophobia/deathly afraid of needles

hurt/comfort? gn reader, romantic? but could be read as platonic.

mentions needles, wounds, and stitches

PLEASE just ignore if any info in this is wrong I’m not a doctor man

You had gotten injured on a mission and had a pretty nasty, deep cut on your thigh.

Not to worry, Donnie’s first-aid in on the way. So there you were in his lab as Donnie observed the cut through his goggles.

“Yeah, that’s gonna need stitches…”

Your stomach dropped, your horror evident as you squeezed your boyfriends hand. “Stitches?…with, like, a needle? No way!”

Leo

“What? Are you scared?~” Leo teased (fucking idiot), laughing a little bit.

“No! I am-” Your stomach flipped and your breathing hitched as Donnie pulled out a special needle and thread from his kit, images of it piercing your skin filled your mind. “Oh god…I can’t do it.”

“Relax! You’re in good hands!“ You looked up at Leo horrified at his words, before both turning to look at Donnie. “Hey! I’ll have you know-“

“Shhhhh! Y/N, really, you’ll be fiiine just calm down bro!” Leo patted your back. Obviously, this was not helpful. First of all, being told to calm down NEVER soothes anybody, and second he called you ‘bro.’

“Mm-mm. No! No way! Look, it’s-“ you hissed in pain as you gripped your leg to cover your wound, “…fine.”

“Not really, Y/N…” Donnie sighed, threading the needle.

“Yeah! What if it gets infected and we have to like, amputate your leg?” You knew Leo was trying to help, but he really wasn’t. Why the hell would he say that anyway? (fucking idiot)

“No, please! I can’t!” You squirmed trying to get up, desperate.

Leo lightly grabbed your shoulders, trying to gently lay you down on the table, “Relaaaax. I know you’re scared, but I’ll be right here the whole time, I swear. Besides, I’m sure Donnie is gonna numb it or whatever, right?”

Your breathing was extremely uneasy tears spilling from your eyes. “No! Stop.”

Leo grabbed your hand again, squeezing it. “Come on, Donnie, isn’t there anything else you can do?”

Donatello sighed, rubbing his temple. “ I suppose…we could try to just patch it up with some gauze, but I’m not sure it-“

“Great! Then bust out that gauze.” Leo rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

He didn’t really show it, but he was extremely worried and did feel a little guilty for not taking you seriously at first. He hated seeing you so distressed because he didn’t really know what to do.

Raph

“Why not?” Raph looked at Donnie and then down at you, he didn’t really understand.

“I just can’t, Raph, please.” You squeezed his hand tightly, your chest was tight and your face went pale at even the thought of having a needle in your arm.

“He has to Y/N, you’re hurt. Tell em’, Donnie.” Raph nudged Donnie and he sighed, a little frustrated.

“Well, Y/N…it could get seriously infected if you

don’t-“ Donnie began to thread the needle.

You began to squirm, trying to get up but Raph gently squeezed your shoulder with his free hand to keep you down, his face wrinkling in concern. “No! I-…I can’t! Stop, please!”

“It’s ok, Y/N. Raph’s right here, no one’s gonna make you.” Raph couldn’t stand to see you so afraid. “Donnie, can’t you just like, put a band-aid on it?”

To which his younger brother raised an eyebrow, a little annoyed, “No, Raphael, I can’t just ‘slap a band-aid on it.’ …but I suppose I could patch it up with some gauze and medical tape.”

“Awesome! See, Y/N, you have nothing to be afraid of.” Raph smiled down at you, trying to be reassuring. He didn’t completely understand, but he did know he wasn’t going to just let you be distraught if there was another solution.

Mikey

“Don’t worry, Donnie’ll take care of you. He’s the best in the business, baby!” Mikey beamed, not realizing what you meant. Donnie smirked at his brothers compliment, nodding a small ‘mhm.’

“No! Really, it’s ok! It’ll, ah! Heal just fine..” You looked down at your leg, the stinging, throbbing pain still surging through it.

“Nuh uh! Come on, Y/N. You’ll be fine!” Michael rubbed your back as Donnie dug through the first-aid kit and pulling out, in your opinion, an un-fairly sized needle and some thread.

You felt undeniably terrified in that moment at the image of being stitched up and having a needle pulled through your skin over and over. The color left your face, your adrenaline rushing. “No! I said no! Mikey, please!”

Mikey frowned, feeling your terror with you. “Uh, Dee…maybe you should just patch them up with some bandage.”

Donnie looked between both of you, before shaking his head, “Alright.”

“Good! No needles. You’re ok, Y/N. I’m right beside you.” Mikey smiled in his usual optimistic way and he put his arm completely around you, but was definitely still saddened. He’d never seen you so frightened before, even when you were attacked to be put in this situation in the first place. He made a mental note of this event for future reference.

Donnie

“Why not?” Donnie furrowed his brows, pushing up his goggles with his free hand, squeezing your hand back in his other one.

“Please. There has to be something else you can do.” You looked at him pleadingly, and he narrowed his eyes, thinking for a second.

“…I don’t know, Y/N. It would be a lot safer to just do stitches. For example, it could get infected, or scar, or-“ He began to thread the needle, tying the end.

“No! Donnie, don’t!” You thrashed around, trying to hastily get up, the pain in your leg worsening at the pressure.

“Y/N, hold still!” Donatello grabbed your arm gently to hold you from standing up. He didn’t comprehend how deep your fear was. “I know it’s scary, just hold on-“

“No! Stop! Get it away from me, I can’t!” You struggled, kicking your feet and tightly gripping his arm. Tears formed in your eyes, your breathing quickening.

Donnie pulled back, dropping the needle back into the kit. He wasn’t expecting that reaction, his eyes softening into concern as he finally realized your genuine terror.

He sighed, a little frustrated but trying to be understanding, “Ok. Alright, how about just some bandage and gauze? Is that ok?”

You nodded, still a little anxious as your hands shook slightly. “Sorry, Donnie…”

“Don’t apologize.” He gently and carefully wrapped the bandage around your leg. He definitely didn’t show it properly, but he did feel bad. He didn’t mean to scare you and if he had known, he wouldn’t have even suggested it. It bothered him to hear how genuinely afraid you were. He would just have to remember for next time, but hopefully there wouldn’t be a next time.

——————————————————————————

Still working on and accepting requests!!! :)

[brewstersbru]

More radioapple with ace Alastor (cont. of last 📻🍎 fic) sorry if its a little ooc im sappy

“No.”

Alastor’s voice comes out quick and staticky as he expertly dodges Lucifer’s hands trying to pet down his waistcoat. Lucifer immediately steps back, eyes wide.

“Sorry! Sorry, Al, was that not okay?” He asks, still keeping his distance. Alastor’s expression is inscrutable, nose wrinkled as he smiles at the ground.

It’s quiet for a moment before Alastor shakes his head.

“I need to be alone for a bit.” He grits, then, just as Lucifer goes to respond, his shadows envelop him and he melts from the room.

“That’s-“ Lucifer sighs, “fine.” Leave it to him to somehow fuck this up. “This” being the unspoken, ever so slightly romantic thing he and Alastor have had going on ever since that night in the bathroom.

It started with meals; after figuring out that Lucifer was bearing his wound, Alastor- for lack of a better term- threw himself into feeding him.

Lucifer thought it was sweet that he used his, surprisingly human, ways to care for him through recovery. The food probably didn’t do anything tangible in helping Lucifer’s body patch itself together, but it made him feel warm, loved. Better than he has in an age.

The food, of course, was delicious, but what Lucifer liked most about taking meals with Alastor was the quiet sense of simply being with another person, without expectation. Without an unspoken asking for something in return. Lucifer had already done his part, and the pulsing pain in his chest each night was infinitely worth each peaceful hour.

At first, Alastor didn’t touch him if he didn’t have to, but just him being there, acknowledging Lucifer’s presence and doing his best to care for him through the pain was enough. Lucifer thought it would be over when he was finally healed, that Alastor would consider his debt repaid and leave him to his own devices once the bleeding stopped.

It was almost too much to imagine.

Lucifer has a nasty habit of getting attached, which is really quite unfortunate given his circumstances. Still, he hasn’t been able to shake it quite yet, and in a shameful moment of spiraling weakness, he had torn through his stitches, hoping to elongate the healing window, even just slightly.

He left the three green X’s alone, tried to keep it secret, but somehow Alastor figured it out, like he always seems to.

Furious, he’d marched Lucifer right back to the bathroom and redid his stiches, this time entirely with the neon green thread he is able to manifest at will.  The thread was warm, a little biting against his skin, but Lucifer liked it. Liked that it meant Alastor would pay attention to him.

God, what a pathetic thing to do. He still cringes when he thinks back on it, but loneliness will make a wasteland out of you. And Lucifer was desperate enough to bleed for the company, his blood is a mere pittance, after all. He’ll never run dry.

The longer they spent together, the more comfortable Alastor was touching Lucifer; little brushes against his shoulder as he passed behind his usual seat at the kitchen island, a steadying hand on his side when he checked his stitches.

It was bliss.

There was a starving, gnawing part of him that basked in it; that took the offered touches like scraps from a table and still wanted more. Another part of him, cold and still burnt from the last time, told him not to get stupid, not to ask for more than he was worth.

Never to beg, because begging is unbecoming of a king.

They fell into a rhythm, small touches, loaded glances, oh so subtle forms of care. Lucifer was healed before he wanted to be, but Alastor didn’t stop. Didn’t leave, even when he checked his stitches one day and, grinning, snipped them away to reveal a shining pink scar.

Even healed, Alastor cooked for him. Even on days when he couldn’t force himself to leave his room, a covered plate would be left just outside his door, food incomprehensibly warm even hours after being made. The touches- maddening, lovely as they were- continued, chaste and addicting as ever.

Lucifer began to feel wild with it. Something inside of him- frayed at the edges, and torn in the middle- couldn’t quite grasp what was happening. Why? He thought. Why, still? Why me? He never got the courage to ask, too afraid of Alastor realizing his mistake.

So, they continued like that. Alastor got more comfortable touching Lucifer who was more than happy to let him. It seemed like he didn’t get much practice with it. Touching.

The more Lucifer fell into the lull of security, the more he noticed the tentativeness of each touch, the careful laying of each finger against pale skin, as if Alastor were exploring touch for the first time. As if it fascinated him.

Lucifer never asked- always afraid of doing something stupid to make the final shoe drop faster- but he did notice. And he began coming up with a plan. Alastor is not the only person in hell who sees their relationships as transactional. Good deeds must be paid back. They must, or you’re indebted. Or, more frighteningly, at least to Lucifer, they will grow bored of you.

They will see that you are ungrateful, and they will leave.

Unwilling to let that happen, Lucifer devised a plot. Alastor has very obviously never been very intimate with anyone before, which is totally ok, if not confusing given his objectively handsome features. But he evidently, somehow, feels safe exploring intimacy with Lucifer, which is so incredibly heartening (it makes something hot burst in his chest every time he thinks about it). Lucifer can use this to pay Alastor back, slowly introduce him to different touches until he feels more comfortable with them.

It’s perfect. Or- he thought it was perfect. Until today. Until Alastor got that wide, panicked look in his eyes as he shouted “No!” before running off to recover. Father Above. How did Lucifer manage to fuck up this bad? There’s no way they recover from this.

He takes a second to mourn the relationship before squaring his shoulders and heading to his room to write about a hundred drafts of his apology letter. He can’t believe he so brazenly stepped over a boundary, not even realizing it was there!

He’s the king of hell for godssakes, he should know when one of his subjects is on edge, or uncomfortable. More than that, he’s spent enough time with Alastor that he should know his tells, as well.

Some king he’s turned out to be, huh? Fuck.

***

It takes Alastor two days to appear before Lucifer again, and not for lack of trying on his part. Lucifer had forced himself from his room each day, wandering the hotel’s grounds looking for him. Several times he would sit at the bar for hours on end, watching, waiting.

Not for nothing, though, he’s learned something quite interesting about the bartender, Husk, and Angel Dust, the porn star.

Over a series of poorly hushed conversations, and not-so-surreptitious glances, he’s learned that they’re dating. Have been for a good few weeks, and somehow no one’s noticed. They seem glad of that fact, though, so Lucifer resolves not to tell anyone.

More interesting, though, is that Husk has been urging his boyfriend to ‘go for what he wants, for once’ which Lucifer hadn’t really understood until he looked over and caught both of them hurriedly looking away. Super unsuspiciously. It was almost enough to make a grown man blush, the sudden knowledge that he was wanted. That despite what he tells himself in his worst moments, he is desirable.

Angel is an attractive man, Lucifer’s not too insecure in himself to admit that, but something curdles in his gut at the thought of pursuing anything with him while he and Alastor are still on the rocks. Which… Is new, and a little terrifying.

Plus, he doesn’t exactly seem like the type to take charge, if you catch his drift, and while Lucifer is happy to play any role his partner wants, he doesn’t know if he’d be any good at it. Not anymore. He just can’t see himself as a figure of authority, not when he knows what it’s really like to be himself. Pathetic, and lonely. The thought of embarrassing himself like that while vulnerable is excruciating, so he pretends not to have noticed their intentions. Thankfully, Angel hasn’t approached him yet. He’s not sure what he would say, anyway.

Back to the most pressing matter, Alastor knocks on Lucifer’s door late at night, two days after the awkwardness of Lucifer’s unwanted touches. When Lucifer opens the door, he’s smiling calmly, and holding two covered plates, one in each hand.

“May I come in?” He asks. Lucifer nods, doggedly, then flushes when he remembers the state that his room is in, after several nights of wallowing. Being the king of hell does have its perks, though, so he snaps his fingers and the place rights itself.

Not before Alastor gets a good enough look to purse his lips disapprovingly, though.

Lucifer manifests a small table and two chairs, which Alastor makes immediate use of, placing a plate in front of each chair, and pulling one out for Lucifer to sit in.

“Please, take a seat. I think we need to talk.” Great. That’s always a good start to a conversation. Not like that’s ever gone wrong for Lucifer before. Nope.

With a sigh- internally steeling himself against the impending rejection- Lucifer sits. Alastor hums, and follows suit, snapping his fingers to disappear the lids to their food as soon as he’s seated.

It looks delicious, as it always does. Some sort of colored rice dish with meat and veggies mixed throughout. Lucifer smiles and thanks him, snapping to manifest some drinks- a champagne for himself, and a rich red wine for Alastor.

It’s quiet for a bit as they take their first few bites. Lucifer hums his appreciation, which Alastor’s smile ticks up at.

Finally, stomach knotting itself enough to disrupt his enjoyment of the food, Lucifer speaks.

“I’m so sorry, Al. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but I did, and if there’s anything I can do- anything at all- to make up for it-“ before he can finish, Alastor cuts in, voice staticky.

“It wasn’t your fault, my dear. You didn’t know. I’m afraid I…” He trails off for a bit, mulling over his next words. Lucifer waits patiently, eyes wide.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that specific kind of touching. I don’t like it.” He’s not looking at Lucifer anymore, head turned to the side as he taps his claws against his wine glass. Lucifer tilts his head.  

“By ‘that kind of touching’, do you mean on your torso? I don’t want to mess it up again.” He asks. It’s a little presumptuous to imply that he’ll be able to touch Alastor, after this, but he’s too on edge to censor himself correctly. Alastor scoffs.

“You did not ‘mess anything up’. There was just a simple miscommunication. By that I mean sexual touches. Or anything meant to lead in that direction.” Ah, Lucifer’s hand had been quite close to his navel, and his intention was most definitely to take the touches further if Alastor was comfortable with it. He nods, apologizing once more.

“Got it. Sorry again, Al, I know you don’t think I need to say it, but I still feel bad. Thank you for telling me.” Lucifer- infinitely relieved and brimming with ill-advised hope- smiles up at him and rests his hand, palm up, in the middle of the table. Maybe he can salvage this. Maybe he doesn’t have to lose everything again.

Alastor’s grin softens at the edges as his eyes rove over Lucifer’s expression. He ‘tsk’s but places his own hand on top of Lucifer’s, gently intertwining their fingers and bringing them up to press a small kiss to Lucifer’s knuckles.

A giddy laugh bursts from Lucifer’s chest and he buries his face- or what he can manage to obscure of it- into the palm of his remaining hand. It’s okay. Alastor’s not angry with him, it’s okay.

A few tears gather on his lashline, but he blinks them away before they can fall. Alastor’s other hand leaves his wine glass to brush just underneath Lucifer’s eye.

“Oh, don’t cry, dearest. It’s alright.” He says, voice softer than Lucifer thinks he’s ever heard it. It occurs to him that this must have been hard for Alastor, too, so unused to being vulnerable, but still showing this part of himself to Lucifer, and for what? So that Lucifer feels better? To put his mind at ease?

It’s so stupid.

It’s so kind.

Lucifer shakes his head, “Happy tears, Al. Thanks for trusting me.”

Alastor’s thumb swipes against the apple of his cheek as he hums.

“As if I could do anything else.”

[sw33tsnow]

Attitude

Captain John Price x F!Reader

Summary: Military leave in England would be littered with thick confidential stamps folders and dozens of Base's phonecalls, John suppose, but you proved him wrong (18+)

Content: annual military leave, curvy&athletic!female!reader, deep voice!f!reader, (little) angst, childhood trauma, smut, smoking, fluff, age gap, boobs sucking, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, hickeys, spanking, cowgirl, handjob, cum eating

Word Count:  5k3

#: I'll apologize in advance cus English is not my first language (some grammar mistakes might appear); f!reader is NOT A BRAT; NOT FOR MINORS

December 1st, snow has already falling and the cold breeze was blowing in waves. Such a lovely time to visit and admire the "mysterious beauty" of Britain, said the radio, but not so ideal for someone who just got deployed to Russia.

John's building located in the suburbs, he enjoyed the spacious and airy atmosphere it carried. Perhaps that explains why it's quite lonely and separated here, not so many civilians chose to pass by this area. Parked the truck in the basement, the cold air made John snort in discomfort, had to pulled down that dark blue beanie to cover his red ears when he got out of the car. Swiftly stepped to the back seat where several stacks of papers and classified documents were stuffed in, he gave them an irritated look. Of course, John has the permission to go home empty-handed to savor these two "break months'' peacefully, but in the end, he has nothing to do. Kyle and Johnny were both home for holiday with their families, and Simon disappeared from sight 'cause Laswell needed a helping hand. No magic could make these files disappear if John left them at the base so taking them home is not a bad idea after all.

Struggling to carry the pile of papers out of the car, they're not heavy but quite bulky for one person to carry. If it ain't for the fact that the internet in this area is such crap, John would have gone to bed after a glass of Whiskey instead of standing here and thinking about how to get these shitty documents to his apartment.

"You need help with that?" A deep but hoarse female voice, probably due to the cold, caught John's attention. You stood there in an oversized hoodie and a pair of shaggy black leather pants, you wore white sneakers, not the pair that some brats normally bragged about and a gym bag was hanging on your shoulder. Your thick hair cut into a long pixie style but still looked silky.

"Not questioning your strength, 's just looks quite nasty over there"

"I mean...if ya don't mind" he replied in a grateful tone before you gave him a sweet smile and walked over to his truck. John almost mistaken you for a male because of your broad shoulders if he hadn't noticed your long lashes and those plump, pink lips.

You squatted down and gently lifted a cardboard box with folders of documents and papers piled on top, then walked to the door leading to the building's elevators.

Pushed and held the door with your back, "After you" you peeled back to John.

All your movements were resourceful and agile, watching you carried his things without difficulty made John quite impressed. It's not that you're strong because there are female soldiers in the military, but it's your gestures were so… gallant, they're not forced like girls tried to impress the men but completely natural like that's your character.

John hummed as a thanks and stepped inside. You both reached the top floor and you followed John to the end of the hallway, bet that's his apartment.

You put the stack of papers down and looked up at John, "Thank you, luv" he said with a hidden smile behind his mustache and the pet name he gave you undoubtedly made your thighs squished together.

You saw the wrinkles formed in his eye sockets as he squinted from smiling. You love his smile. In the basement, you didn't pay any mind and just simply asked if John wanted some help, just like when you carried groceries bags for mothers or helped the old neighbors on the same floor walk to their house, it was like a habit. But when John turned to look at you, couldn't lie, he looked handsome. Toned muscles back hidden under a leather jacket, handsome face with neatly trimmed beard and those navy blue pupils were what attracted you the most. He's certainly older than you, which makes him even more attractive.

"That's very kind of ya t' help" he added, oh, his deep voice and the accent were like music flowing into your ears. When John slightly cocked his head down, you noticed your height only reached his shoulders, despite you're an athlete.

"No big deal, sir, have a nice day" you gave him a small smile and turned around to go back to the elevator. Your eyes accidentally glanced at the random envelope with a single line 'To: Cpt. John Price'. John Price, what a fitting name, you think, but we probably won't meet again

"Wait, you haven't told me ya name?" Turned back, you kept silent before responded to those beautiful blue eyes with a wide toothy smile, making John dumbfounded.

As if the whole hallway lit up with your smile, " 's really nice to know you, Captain."

Fucking hell, the wind came from the open window didn't help John cooled down at all when your deep voice called his sign with that teasing tone. He stuttered, watching your disappearing figure as the elevator door closed without saying anything else. His cheeks turned red by the thought that it wasn't even a flirt but somehow he just so addicted to your voice, to that angelic smile. John didn't see many female colleagues on his HQ and not to mention plenty of deployments, his paperwork already kept him from visiting the pub - his one and only favourite thing but you might've just change his mind.

When the elevator stopped at the lobby floor, few residents got into the elevator with you and John. He noticed that you ain't a talkative one, always politely greeted everyone with a bow and a slight smile. You were also careful, too careful not to invade others' personal space. Polite and a little shy?, John guessed

Shaking his head and laughing at himself, John inserted the key into the lock and opened the door, using his foot to push one box in front of the door to keep it from closing and then carried the other inside. The annoying 'beep beep' sound from his watch made him wince, 2200, these can wait 'til tomorrow, he told himself, kicked off his boots and walked straight into the bedroom.

John regretted because the Whiskey he drank didn't do a damn thing but keep him up all night. Gave up and got out of bed, he tried to find something to do and as if completing the paperwork was a smart option.

0600, winter made it impossible to tell if the pitch black sky outside was early morning or midnight. Unable to concentrate, he decided to snack on something before went for a run because he knew how bad the consequences of skipping meals would be.

The road was slippery because of heavy snowfall yesterday. Luckily, John's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, couldn't relied on the useless dim light of the lampposts. It's now quite far from the building and almost into the city center, he ran through a park before stopping by the sound of a group chatting coming out of the opposite tower. It's you, still with a bright smile on your lips and that polite gesture, holding the door for those accompanying you. Both the male and the female, all looked about your same age and all had hair slightly wet. Perhaps only been wiped lightly, followed by two elders. Everyone laughed and talked cheerishly before waving their hands and splitting in different directions, you did the same, going towards the city center.

Honestly, John felt like a stalker following you like this. Years of military service had honed his tracking skills, as ridiculous as it sounded.

You stopped by a minimarket to pick up ingredients for your diet, meals are as important as the muscle exercises, and your cooking skills are very good too. Thanks to your grandmother for teaching you how to cook in such young age. Checking the list on your phone again, you pushed the cart to the checkout counter, saying goodbye to the friendly cashier and began to struggle with the messy bags.

"Need help with tha, luv?" John didn't hesitate to run to you and reached his hands out, repeated exactly what you asked him a few past hours ago.

You looked surprised but immediately answered him with a low giggle, John also grinned at you. For fuck sake, you wanted to punch yourself so bad. Why? Look at you, wearing a turtleneck and dusty jeans, no lipstick on and hair looked like a damped bird's nest. You're a grown woman, makeup and tight dresses are necessary but you don't take them too seriously. Private gym, swimming pool and your apartment are your daily destinations. Only traveled when your club accepted friendly matches with other clubs and your apartment will be replaced by the hotel you booked.

Waking up at the time when the whole city was still sleeping, the cashier and your team ain't no strangers to you, dressing up only took you away from your precious sleep. Minimalism - that's what you are, except for special occasions or nights out with your girls.

BUT right now, you extremely regret your choice.

Raised your free hand up to brush a hair strand out of sight, you walked up to John and motioned for him to walk with you.

On the way back to the building, the two of you talked more. John learned that you're a swimmer and the people from the tower were your coaches and teammates. Also explained why your body wouldn't be as slim as other girls, but it suited you.

You speak very little, each sentence was brief and straight to the point but you managed to keep the conversation didn't become awkward. And maybe that's made you a very good listener, always looking in his eyes and nodding to show him that you did pay attention and wanted him to continue. You reminded him of Simon but more mellow in your own way.

"You've got something needed answers?" You saw the timidness in John's glance, "Wouldn't ask if I felt uncomfortable, John" gesturing to him, urging him to speak.

"'s nothing, truly..… jus' notice you're truly courteous to others, can guarantee muppets your age don't behave like tha, 'specially towards women" John tried to clarify, not want you to misunderstand.

You stared at him for a moment, quite impressed with his observance. As a Task Force captain in the military, the way his body built and his look when talking to you were enough to understand.

"Wow Cap, you're really interesting" you teased him with a toothy smile.

"Childhood" you stopped, "And my mother has a very practical way to educate us, sometime it wouldn't bother me if anyone said I'm decrepit before my age" a small chuckle left your lips.

John's glance never left the side of your face, you two had more in common than he thought. Neither he nor you overshared your personal details but John could still guess a few things from your words. Us, you have siblings, childhood and mother, you don't mention 'father'.

“I can take it from here”

You broke the silence as you two reached the building. Carefully take the bags from John's hand, your cold fingers grazed the back of his warm one. You shivered and goosebumps rose as you felt an electric current run down your spine. Bite your inner cheek, it's shameless to admit by the thought of your body turning needy for his warmth. You wanted to hold those large hands and place them on your neck, your abdomen, your breasts and thighs. You want to feel his warm body heat against yours, for the first time you didn't hate your innate cold body temperature.

Quickly turned away without showing any suspicious expression, you only looked up when John blocked the entrance. He wouldn't let you slipped away easily like last time, most stupid mistake he've ever made.

"Mind if I want a repay?" John put his hands in his pockets and lowered his face at the same leveled of yours.

"My messy apartment ain't inviting for breakfast now, sir" your husky voice finished the sentence as softly as a whisper. You didn't step back, simply answered him with an honest voice, you're not afraid of eye contact either.

"Tell me your name, luvie"

That's not a demand. Silence, you blinked in confusion. This man, you thought, turned away and let out a laugh. You whipped back to face him with a defeated expression, shaking your head while telling him your name.

John repeated your name with an amused tone and it sounded so alluring by the way he said it. You both were engulfed in each other's eyes, neither wanted to break away from this moment. But before you could not pull yourself together and melt in front of him, you said your goodbye and slipped aside to enter the building. He did not stop you this time, just eyeing at the way your fluffy ass checks and thighs gently jiggled by each steps with a lustful gaze.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

John's two months on leave 've been much more lively thanks to you. Went out for a run every morning so he could pick you up from the gym, visiting your place when you invited him for a meal and of course, John also brought his booze as a thank you gift. The two of you opened up more to each other. Only then did John know that you were an extremely modest person and didn't like showing your emotions in front of people, it makes you felt like you're vulnerable. Gave him butterflies knowing he holds a special place to you because you felt safe sharing with him.

Likewise, your lonely days have ended ever since John appeared in your life, eating meals twice a week at your apartment has become casual to both of you. You started choosing cute dresses instead of sweats as usual, and always wear light lipstick to look more beautiful every time you’re with him. You also dug deeper about your family to John, that you did not experience fatherhood from a very young age and your mother is a strong woman. Making you, a much more independent and understanding big sister and daughter for your family. Sometime you joked with a higher pitch alcohol voice that every time you go to a pub, ladies are more attracted to you because the men around are such punks compared to you.

One more thing John discovered as you and him got closer was that he was at least 10 years older than you. Not that John couldn't tell your age, just sometimes the two of you were so immersed, which made him forget how young you were.

This night, the two of you were on the rooftop smoking together. John has a cigar and you smoke 'a bland cigarette', you could only laugh out loud every time he mocked with a grunt when you pulled the pack out of your pants' pocket. You both quietly enjoyed as the time slowly passed with each other.

"I've never tried cigars, dunno what they taste like" you gave him a playful glance

"Wanna try?"

John cocked his head at the cigar and held it towards you, you grabbed his wrist and brought it to your mouth to take a drag. You peaked at John, your eyes shot out a mischievous glint and you deliberately sunk your cheeks as you puffed on the burning cigar. The small flame glowed, making both of you feel an indescribable itch under your skin.

"Tastes milder than I thought" you answered John as you slowly exhaled smoke.

He looked at you silently, of course, John knew you're craving for John as much as he did but fuck, was this a wise decision? You're still young, still have a bright future waiting for you, you can't stick with an old man with a 'dirty' background and the dangerous work he's doing.

"John, I wanna ask you out for a date" you walked up to John's face and asked him directly, he'd felt the insecurity in your words. Your voice was a bit shaky and with that low tone, you sounded like a small animal that's scared or whining because it's wounded. Yes, John wanted to scream like that, he wanted to nip your skin and bite your juicy lower lip so bad but he just couldn't. He wouldn't

" 'm sorry sweet thing, this's not a smart choice"

Your lips thinned to a line, your eyes still glued to his beautiful blue orbs as if trying to find any glint might betray his words. None, nothing at all. You retreated from his private space and a small smile made it way to your sad face. Without a single tear, John knew your chest was tightening and you felt your nose sting but your pride wouldn't let you fall. You ain't an arrogant girl but you were confident in your position, and John understood. His eyes began to show contrasted signs, you understand that he turned you down not because he didn't feel the same to you. But still, you also didn't want to know the reason, you don't want to hear anything that might hurt you more now.

"The leave'll end tomorrow, right? Stay safe, Captain," you said your last sentences, sniffing and dropping the lit cigarette on the ground. You extinguished by stepping on it before swiftly passed him and disappeared through the rooftop door. You're always like this, running away when you're in your miserable stage. John didn't have the courage to follow you and made things right because he wasn't even sure what he wanted.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Nearly a month later that night, John returned to his apartment. Now that the season changes between spring and summer, the pouring rain could not be avoided. John parked his truck in the same place and went straight up to his apartment to get some sleep. When the helo landed on the tarmac, John sped up the briefing and dismissed the team as soon as possible so he could return to this suburban building. Yes, he could rest in his barrack on the Base, but he knew the reason that encouraged him to drive such a long road.

Waking up when the chatter on the TV disappeared, John reached up to the night stand to turn on his reading lamp, multiple clicking sounds hurted his ears but no light appeared. John grumbled as he got up and walked out to the living room. Through his apartment's balcony, John guessed that the area had lost power because of the heavy rain outside. Sitting down on the couches, the drowsiness has now disappeared, replaced in his mind by your images. Your smile, your voice, your eyes, everything about you is just so beautiful, and he missed you so so much. 

After showering, John changed into a compression shirt and put on a new pair of cargo pants , 'cause he knew you'd rather see him in uniform. Putting on his boots, John took your favorite cake that he bought before driving back to his apartment and headed down to your place.

John stood in front of your door, he felt nauseous, he didn't know how you'd react when you saw him. Ringing the doorbell, it took a while to hear your "Coming" along with the sound of footsteps getting closer to the door. The door opened, and you stood there with sleepy eyes and an adorable bedhead, you were wearing a tank top and loose pants.

"Welcome back" your eyes closed as you spoke up with a wide smile and a sleepy voice, John didn't need to admit that you sounded seductive because the bulge in his crotch has proof enough.

"I bought your fav, sweetheart" John held up the cake box and you looked at it for a moment then stood aside to let him in.

When you looked in his direction, even though the smile was still on your lips, your eyes looked distant, which made John feel more than horrible. You chose him to be your safe place but then he didn't know better than to ruin everything, now you treat him like you're just socializing with an outsider.

The bigger flops which you bought only for him now replaced his boots as he followed you into the living room. Sat down on the couches as you motioned him to, you turned to the kitchen to make some tea. John swore he saw your boobs' side and your ribs, your shoulder blades, and your skin was showing because you're not wearing a bra.

Returning with the tea tray and the zipper-hoodie covering your body, you placed the tray on the table and sat down on the couches which were neither far nor near John. A long silence formed and you had no intention of breaking it, honestly, you didn't know what to react or say.

The night you were rejected, you didn't cry but every single thing inside you was broken into pieces. You only had two exes and that was the result of two failed swimming championships. The pressure and strict diet made your nerves tense so sexual release is normal, for you. When you met John, shits changed, you weren't trying to find someone to take home on the weekend night anymore, head over heels just by the sight of him.

Your family lives far away from you, so everytime something positive changes, your friends and teammates are normally the first to notice.

Everything was great until that night, you wanted to hide but now John sat here, in your apartment, so conflicted.

"Listen luv, 'm sorry for hurting you" John waited for you to say something but you just sat still and stared at the mug in your hands, "I…'m not sure…I thought that it'd be better if someone your own age, not an old bastard like me, to court you out."

You snapped your eyes to John, which shut him up immediately. Cold and aggressive, a foolish accusation, as if they were trying to say. Placed the mug on the table, you stood up and walked in front of John. He looked up at you as you piled down your head to do the same. The room instantly froze as you two stared at each other, the Captain of an excellent Task Force looked so weak and useless under your daggers gaze. How submissive.

"You mean I should date a bunch of punks with towering egos and only use women as tools to satisfy their dicks, yeah?" you asked John in a low, emotionless voice. Just like everytime, your eyes never left his.

John's mouth was dry and he could barely swallow, his hands gripped his knees so tight that all knuckles turned white. You spread your legs, grabbed his wrists and placed his hands on your ass. Still maintaining that scary look, you could see that his cock might tear his pants apart from the eagerness.

"Or you think I'm not enough to find an older, more mature man for myself?" you raised an eyebrow and slowly sat down on John's thick thighs.

"Fuckin' 'ell, luv" John exhaled shakily and looked down to his pants, in a blink of an eye, you grabbed his chin and brought his gaze back to you.

"Avoid my eyes? Aren't I pitiful enough, John?" You frowned and brought your face closer to John. You could hear every pulse on his body beating loudly at this close distance.

His muscles tensed at your glassy-eyes look, he moved his hands away from your lower body. John wanted to cup your cheeks, he wanted to hold you close, buried your face into his chest as he comforted you until you were satisfied.

Not that easy.

You let go of his chin and caught his wrists with both of your hands. You folded and held them behind John's head, causing him to sink deeper and deeper into the couches beneath him. John was surprised by your actions, he almost forgot that you weren't fragile at all. Your faces were now just inches apart and he could feel every breath of yours against his lips.

"I don't remember giving you permission to move yet" and your grip tightened, his beautiful blue orbs pierced to your gaze in defeat.

You smirked and licked his lips, "Give me your tongue" you commanded.

A soldier like John didn't need to hear orders twice and immediately smashed his lips to yours hungrily. Tongues entwined, teeth clashing and he greedily bit your lower lip as if a predator had finally caught its prey. You let John go and moved to the hem of his shirt and peeled it over his head, your lips nibbling the skin of his neck as your hands roaming all over his torso. Hairy chest, broad shoulder blades, and bulky arms, your nose filled with the smell of burnt cigars and faded men's cologne. Milky scars made you even more infatuated with John, it was hard to believe the man in front of you was single. And John didn't move one bit. His eyes shut tight and his head tilted back, John's arms stayed put on his side as he enjoyed the tingling sensation of your soft lips and hands gliding over his skin. Leaving a few dark hickeys on that neck and manly chest, your hands went down to the bulge in John's crotch and began to knead gently, his cock twitching in your grip as you freed it from those tight pants.

"Fuck…please" John's head jerked back as your cool hand slid in and grasped his burning cock. His pupils flicking back and forth between the area between the two of you and your darken eyes.

"Speak up John, I can't read minds" stuck out your tongue and drooled on his cock. His precum and your drool created a mess down there, making the sticky sound even more lewd. What a tease, John thought, but it doesn't matter, he'd do whatever you want just for your forgiveness, not wanting to see your pain expression ever again.

"Please…luvie…please stroke it, please, I…need ya" John flustered as he saw your nipples harden at his pleas, his cock twitched in excitement at the mesmerized view.

You've never seen any cocks like his so far. But does it matter?, the man, no, your man is sitting right here, under your control, and desperately begging for your touch. You started to stroke him at a slow pace and gradually increased the speed with both hands, no exaggeration, John's length needed both of your hands to be considered enough. His breathing became more rapid and you knew he's close. Leaning forward and John doesn't hesitate to return your kindness, a low moan escaped his throat as he released onto your abdomen, his seed thick and hot made you horny like a bitch on heat. Your fingers delicately scraped the cum he had shot onto your stomach and brought it to your mouth, licking and sucking your fingers in the dirtiest way together with his taste.

"Can you take your shirt off for me, please" John gasped, "I wanna see those pretty tits"

You did as he said, your breasts bouncing as you took your shirt off. Lustful eyes staring at your nipples and John raised his calloused hands to held them. He fold one while the other was taken care of by his mouth, the man sucked and gently nipped your sensitive nipple, making you moan in pleasure.

"Y'know, I've dreamed about sucking these gorgeous tits for too long, darlin'" John gave you a devil grin before pinning you down on the sofa. You immediately covered your stretch marks on your lower belly plus your burning face but John smacked your ass check as a warning

"Oi, tryin' to enjoy my meal hear, eh?" John chuckled deeply as he clicked his tounge. You wanted to cry out so bad, you've never revel your body so bare like this to no one, ever. But John did not agree with such nonsense. He shut your stupid mind down by worshiping every inch of your body, his lips left marks on your plush stomach and hips. Seemed like you hadn't been to the gym lately, he noticed you looked softer compared to the last time he saw you. Moving down, John grabbed both your pants and panties, pulled them off and threw them in a random corner of the room. The man used one of his knees to shove your legs apart, revealing your pooling hot sex to his hungry eyes.

"Already so wet for me, eh?" John whispered as he placed loving kisses on your meaty inner thighs, the foreign sensation of his beard brushing against your sensitive skin sending pleasure down to your cunt, making your walls clenched eagerly. "Bet those pricks have never eaten you out, eh? Such idiots refuse a sweet thing like ya."

John buried his face between your legs, gently ran his tongue over your entrance and sensitive clit. Your body jolted every time he sucked or flicked his tongue against your clit, his two thick digits easily slid inside your cunt and you let out a loud moan at the sudden feeling of warmth inside you. Lightly grabbed John's hair as he held your thighs by his other arm and shoulder to keep them from closing, "That's it, sweetheart, use me like all you've ever wanted to" John mumbled, his tounge slid inside you causing his nose to rub against your sensitive clit. You sobbed in pleasure, your back arching to press your damped sex into John's mouth.

“Fuck….'m cumming, John” you whined, “Please…” and John quickened his pace, “C'mon, cum in my mouth, jus' like tha....Bloody 'ell, yeah, ride my tongue, c'mon luv, cum for me” he moaned and you felt the tight knot in your lower abdomen. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the orgasm hit you and John didn't pull back when you came, his trimmed beard soaked from your slick and you blushed from that sight.

Leveled off your elbows to help yourself up, you wrapped one arm around the back of John's neck and pulled him into a deep kiss. It's tender, full of love, care and pure longing. Snaked his arms and held your back, he picked you up effortlessly and situated you hovering over his cock. You grabbed John's shoulder with one hand, the other held his cock directed to your entrance then slowly sat down. You both hissed when the tip of his cock slid inside, he's so big, too big, you felt like he could split you in half.

"You broken?" John glance filled with concern when your face frowns, you're so tight, if he couldn't get you to loosen up he might be squished to death. You let out a breathy laugh "I'd love a hand, Captain, if you don't mind", before trying to adjust to his size.

"Attagirl" John was amused as you finally took all of him, the feeling of your soft walls clenched around his shaft made him harder. Flexibility is also one of any athletes' standards, what a good fuckin' girl, John thought.

You began to move your hips up and down, nails leaving long scratches on John's muscular torso as your breasts pressed against his with each of your movements. The lustful noises from where you two attached and the way John held your waist and bit your collarbone made the pleasure inside you boil over and over again. The man knows that you wouldn't stop him from marking on your body even though your club would definitely buzz around because of these obvious love bites.

"You're taking me so gud, luv, this pussy's made for me, eh?"

You moaned as his tip violantly abused your cervix, too fucked out to give him a proper answer. John growled, his fingers gripping your waist to press your body down onto his cock.

"John, 'm close, cum with me…please cum with me" you pressed your face into the crook of his neck and mumbled. You pinched your red nipple and tortured your puffy clit, tears falling from your eyes in pleasure and overstimulation. Silent scream escaped you as just after a few more thrusts, John shot his warm seed inside you.

It took some shallow breaths, your sweaty frames unable to separate from each other, apparently from the lovemaking afterglow. John cupped your cheeks and pulled you back to face him, "I know ya need to be wooed 'fore allowing anybody to do this but…" you patiently waited for John to continue. "Ya free this Sunday, luvie?"

Your eyes sparked up and you gave him a soft giggle for his endearing self, John still waiting for your approval with amusement in his glance.

"Is Chinatown alright, Captain?" you asked playfully with a hoarse voice and the older man replied with obvious pleased chuckle, "Yes, ma'am".

[fruitmins]

Oᵤᵣ Bᵢg Bₐby / BTS OT7

➭genre: little space, age regression, fluff, caregivers bts, little reader, sfw, hurt/comfort, mostly no plot

➭warnings: none

➭note: my first request!! i saw this before going to bed and got so excited I stayed up for another hour and a half working on some of it. also purple car has a lot of notes wtff i love all of you

“Y/N angel, I think today’s the day we need to wash blankie.” Jimin calls out to you in a gentle voice when he spots you waddling down the stares with said blanket in hand after your nap.

You’ve had that blanket for months now and it’d only been washed a handful of times. It was getting so bad that the original pink color it came in was now a nasty light brownish color and covered in all types of food stains.

Originally, Minnie Mouse’s face was plastered in a diagonal line. But now, you could barley see her black outline. Not to mention the wrinkle and god awful smell.

At first they thought you were going through one of your phases and would eventually ask for a new blanket that had whatever thing you were fixated on. And of course they’d buy it for you cause you they loved spoiling you. But that’s how it had always been. Stuck on unicorns? You needed a unicorn blanket. Cars? Needed it in a blanket. Even plants (you could thank Namjoon for that phase).

But no. You couldn’t seem to let go of this Minnie Mouse blanket. Literally. You’d take it everywhere with you. Quick grocery trip, the studio, the beach, to another friends house. The boys were actually glad one time you brought it with you to the water park so they could rinse out some of the dirt from the last trip.

But now it was beginning to be a problem. The boys had several talks about it amongst themselves. All begging the question, ‘how do we get it out of her grasp?’ Why was this one thing giving you so much comfort you would fight them for it? For months they had tip toed around the idea, pointing out the blankets flaws in hopes of cloaking you over time to wash it. But somehow you weren’t phased.

The boys had finally decided to put their foot down that day when Taehyung came complaining to them in the morning about how he couldn’t sleep because the blanket was uncomfortable and smelly, but you had insisted on sleeping with it.

Sure it didn’t bother you, but it was starting to get to them. Being idols, Taehyung needed that sleep. But every time they even reached for the blanket you’d flinch before starting to scream and kick, not stopping under any circumstances till it was secure in your arms.

You quickly shook your head at Jimin’s words, eyes already filled with worry. “No. No wash blankie.” You huffed holding it tighter.

“Baby..” Namjoon warned, not liking the word no coming out of your mouth but this seemed to only make you angrier.

“Baby, it’s icky! Wouldn’t it be nice for it to be soft and clean again? Almost as good as new?” Jungkook asked you trying to pass his excitement over to you but you weren’t having it.

“I don’t want it good as new.” Your voice got louder as you argued with him in a mocking manner which only caused him to frown. This could turn bad really quick.

Your words just made the boys more confused but let the comment pass. “Y/N I don’t think this is up for discussion anymore.” Hoseok said sympathetically. He knew this was going to escalate and that you were likely going to cry, which is one of the things he hated seeing.

“Because it’s not.” Yoongi stepped in with a somewhat firm voice. Yoongi was easily one of the scariest when mad but he never let his anger get to far. Still, you knew his potential from small moments when you were big. “Baby the sooner you hand over blankie the sooner you can have it back.” He explained in a calmer voice.

You seemed to realize that this time they wouldn’t back down so easily. “But l love blankie! You can’t have it!” You almost shouted tears already welling up in your eyes as your face turned red.

“Y/N calm down.” Jimin told you firmly. They had tried to be sweet but it was frustrating when you acted like this.

“Baby, we’re sorry. We truly are, but this has to be done.” Jin told you and your eyes widen with fear when he stood up, making his way towards the end of the stairs where you stood.

“No! No! Please! Mean daddies!” You pleaded with tears, walking up the stairs backwards which was also a no-no. The others followed behind Jin, now worried that you’d trip and abruptly told him to stop moving.

Even when Jin stopped following you, you turned your back and run upstairs and to your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

The boys sighed as they stood there in silence. “I hate this.” Yoongi admitted, guilt brewing in his stomach when you started crying and the boys agreed in hums.

“But we can’t put this off anymore or it’ll come back to bite us in the ass. We aren’t getting rid of it.” Jin spoke as if reminding them cause it felt like you were going through the six stages of grief.

“Maybe she doesn’t realize that. We should try to make her understand the situation more.” Namjoon suggest and without another word Taehyung pushed himself between them and up the stairs. Jimin tugged on his arm before he could go further.

“You guys just stay here for a while.” He told them ultimately ignoring their confused and concerned glances before continuing up the stairs and to your room.

Taehyung’s heart broke when he could hear your sobs from outside your door. He couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit guilty that his whining had caused you all of this. They knew it brought you some type of comfort but your attachment was getting unhealthy.

When he knocked on your door, your sobbing stopped but he could hear you shift on your bed. “Go away.” You told whoever was on the other side in a shaky voice.

“It’s Tae Tae. I just wanna talk.” He told you and not giving you another chance to refuse before he slowly opened the door to your room before softly closed it.

You watched him with glossy eyes and short shaky breaths as he made his way to the edge of your bed. He held out his arms for you and you slowly climbed into his lap, clinging onto his shirt for dear life as you two hugged.

He combed through your messy hair and after you had calmed down, he spoke. “Baby, why do you like blankie so much? You were over Minnie Mouse ages ago.” He asked trying to understand your attachment to it.

You sniffled before answering, “Because it protec me. Like at the airport.” You stated and at first Taehyung was just confused until he realized what you meant.

The blanket was a split second decision. You were at the airport with them and had spotted it in a store for a brief second. The boys couldn’t resist saying no to you when your eyes sparkled just describing what it looked like to them.

They couldn’t go out and buy it themselves, there was to much press and it was a baby scandal waiting to happen. So they sent out some staff to go get it and you were over the moon when it was in your hands. It was one of the easiest flights with you ever and you were fast asleep the whole time.

The boys had joked about how magical the blanket was and how it protected them from any bad behavior (mostly talking about you). Hearing that, I guess you took it to heart and vowed to take it everywhere.

The worst part of it all was that it worked.

Whenever you took the blanket anywhere you were on your best behavior and had no mishaps.

“Oh but honey, it doesn’t need to protect you at home. Nothing bad can happen here and if something does that’s what we’re here for.” He explained with a beaming smile, happy that they had gotten somewhere. “You trust us right?”

You nodded hurriedly. Of course you trusted your daddies to protect you. They were super safe and had protected you many times before. And now that you thought about it, nothing had ever happened at home…

“So while we’re protecting you, blankie can get a nice bath.” Hoseok spoke softly, you hadn’t even realized that the rest of them were slowly making their way into the room hearts fluttering when you said you trusted them.

“Bath?” You repeated and he nodded with a reassuring smile. “You know when you get icky after an accident or playing in the mud? Blankie feels icky too.” Jin stated and they watched with anxious eyes as you glanced down at your blanket. You guessed it did look less pink, and you had seen a ketchup stain that felt weird when you laid on it.

“Blankie feels icky?” You asked still nervous and the boys smiled, knowing that they had finally convinced you to crack. They would help you feel safe and the blanket would finally get washed.

“Very.” Jimin answered scrunching his nose. He made a mental note to bring up cleaning your room to get rid of the smell.

“Can I help with the bath?” You asked eyes slowly started to brighten which warmed the boys hearts.

“Absolutely!” Tae grinned.

“Now you can’t get in, but you can help wash.” Yoongi clarified but it didn’t seem to matter to you which made him feel proud of you.

Moments later you waddled off be bed and handed the blanket over to Jin causing them to shower you with praises about how good and brave you were. It made you feel a lot better.

After everyone put on gloves, including you, they all headed to the bathroom and got it ready. You had wanted a lot of bubbles and they didn’t fight you.

“We should have used the washer and dryer.” Jungkook said his arm covering his nose when the smell got worse. He was the one with the most sensitive nose so they put him on snack duty instead.

“And the tub is going to be ruined.” Namjoon pointed out when they had drained the nasty brown water for the third time.

“It’s better than buying a whole new dryer.” Jin scolded them with a huff. Not like they couldn’t afford millions anyways.

“I got pink dye.” Taehyung said when he came rushing in out of breath. He had ran all the way to the store when he had thought of the brilliant idea.

After hours of hard labor and letting everything set you were reunited with your blanket right before going to bed. You had been tucked in, teeth had been brushed, story had been read but they could tell you were still sad about not having it with you.

You let out a loud gasp when Namjoon came in the door with it in hand. It smelt like flowers and it got some of its color back. Not good as new, but you didn’t mind.

“Thank you daddies.” You whispered, yawning when it was in your hands. They looked at you with loving eyes at the adorable sight.

“Thank you for being so brave.” Yoongi said back giving you a soft kiss on the forehead before tucking you in himself. Your daddies always knew how to make you feel safe.

[thegayghestieprompter]

Random Papa HCs

(click for more, not nsfw but i wrote a LOT)

Primo<3

Primo was like. THE parentified child. If you think Nihil wasn't out being a Slut™ for the Whole Time you are WRONG!!!

He loves his brothers. Even Copia. Even before he knew they were biologically related.

He is Filled With Anxiety™ all the TIME. Being raised to grow up almost immediately is tough, yeah

This man. This man is so romantic. Like. He will love you forever and ever and ever and ever. And he will make sure you know it. You are going on All of The Dates. You are going to be given gifts randomly. Mostly flowers. He likes flowers

He likes flowers :3

can't cook for shit

Upon revival he looks a bit younger, like 60s/70s rather than like 80+ and definitely has long blond hair. This one is here because I like Peemo with hair. I want to touch his hair. I think I love hi

Sighs. Pansexual.

6ft tall

His legal first name is Federico. I don't know why, I found it on a baby name site and I love her (the name. Primo's pronouns are He/Him)

His pronouns are probably He/Him

Secondo<3

Slut. The Worst Sassy Bitch from 18 to like 29

He's like actually sweet but only if he is In Love with you

He loves his brothers. This does NOT mean he is nice to them

Everyone annoys him all of the time. There are no exceptions.

Only dates humans. Is confused as to why anyone(Terzo..Copia..) would date a ghoul. Ghoul-fucker. Ew. Nasty.

So he might be bi. I think he is

He's a Bisexual Bitch and I want tokiss hi

He's so fine

^^^not a headcanon thats actually a fact

Bald forever<3

cooks so fucking good. never cooks though :(

He had blond hair too when he was WAYY younger except he was like "ew i look like my older brother who acts like a MOM. dying this shit brown"

Wavy with some curls<3

Another He/Him!?!?

A Slut And Whore™ until he falls in love. On the rare occasion that he does he falls HARD. Stupid little dumby. I love hi

His legal first name would be Vincenzo. No elaboration. I just Think So therefore its true

6'2, says he's 6ft because he never actually checked, Terzo tells people he's 5'9

Terzo<3

short fuck. he's literally 4'9 and its literally canon and thats so fucking funny

Whore but not in a slutty way. He fake-romances like any sibling of sin and then gets FUCKED and then DIPS. Suddenly he has a lot of paperwork to get to

Slut but not in a whorish way. Wears revealing clothing for Omega but still the fancy kind. Kabukiaku has it down and I love her for that

Stupid old man with smile lines face wrinkles i think i need to kiss h

Did you know his confidence is the fakest shit because boy he is SO insecure (i have an angst problem this is my fault sorry

Ghoul-fucker

Loves to annoy Secondo. Gets pissed when Secondo gets mad. Tries to bother Primo. Gets pissed when Primo is kind and open to him. Hates Copia. Gets pissed when Copia Exists.

He romancess everyone with at least One Rose. IDK why but purple and red are so pretty together and he looks so romantic he is a very romantic man btw so he uses roses to stealyou

Hear me out. "Antonio"

Sorry I didn't elaborate his legal first name should be Antonio because??? yeah

Most people use He/Him for Terzo, he doesn't mind He/They. He just doesn't care. Basically cis he/him who is okie dokie with a little "they/them" here and there

he can't cook for shit

he's handsome

he's stupid

he's an idiot

he's so fine

he's my boyfriend

sorry for last bullet thats not a hc i just love him :(

Copia<3

Sigh<3

5'7. u3u

he's not that slutty actually he's too dorky to even properly romance someone. you give him hints? he thinks you're really friendly. he tries to give you hints? they are not understandable

Rats. Everywhere. He has pet rats. This is canon and if you disagree you are Wrong

be the rat you want to see in the world

that wasnt a hc sorry. He/Him

GREY HAIRS IN HIS BROWN HAIR GREY HAIRS SO MANY AND I NEED HIM. I LVOE HIM

sorry guys. i put myself back into my cage i am normal again. he has that cute little giggle. like that kind of laugh you hear that makes you just stop and stare at the person for a bit because You Are In Love With H

his smile is sooo sweet

He doesn't have fangs but he has sliiiightly crooked teeth that look kinda like em :)

he loves his brothers. He likes Primo and is closest with him cause Primo was active in his childhood and hung out with him and stuff. He respects Secondo but Secondo didn't really interact much in his childhood. He'll gladly make conversation and try to say hi when he sees him. He always kindly greets Terzo and awkwardly babbles about random shit getting progressively more nervous when Terzo is obviously annoyed

Hi. He's pretty

His office has plants that Primo gave him

He has every Employee of the Month award on his wall in his office

He can't cook for shit

take out<3

doordash<3

Pansexual<3

Ghoul-fucker

he's my husband

sorry no he's not. i lied. do you forgive me

ummmmm

rats?

yeah

Nihil >:( >:( 🤬🤬🤬

I hate him

Ugly old wrinkly BITCHSTICK

terrible

cheater

fuckass dumbfuck

i hate him

he's stupid/neg

i don't like him

young nihil is sooooo fine i need him in my household

i hate him