#because if his ice cream melts he's going to throw a big fucking fit
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wip wednesday âĽď¸
happy wednesday friends <3 i was tagged by @wikiangela, @exhuastedpigeon, and @rogerzsteven to share something so thank u all mwah
this is from eddie vs the hoa because he and buck made a pallet of blanket in the living room floor to sleep on and i think it was cute so please enjoy đŤśđź
âI know,â Buck says, a little drowsy. And he does knowâEddieâs told him everything. Thereâs no secrets between them. âItâs big enough for you and Chris to grow in.â âI think it could be a forever home.â Itâs a whisper because anything louder might disrupt the moment. âMine and my sonâs and yours, too.â Buck blinks, slow and sleepy. Heâs less than five minutes from falling asleep; he worked so hard today. He deserves to rest. âMine?â he repeats, voice pitched high like he doesnât quite believe it. Eddieâll make him. âYours.â He reaches out, picks at a dark eyelash resting on Buckâs cheek, and holds the tip of his finger near Buckâs mouth. âMake a wish.â Buckâs eyes cross, twin blobs of blue in the flickering light of the laptop screen, and he puckers his lips to blow a bit of cool air. The eyelash drifts off somewhere over Eddieâs shoulder, but he doesnât care to know because the color of Buckâs eyes is the same shade of blue the sky was the night he stayed up with his abuelo. âWhatâd you wish for?â Buck chuckles. âIf I tell you, it wonât come true.â Eddie hums. âIâll make it come true,â he swears, and he thinks Buckâs cheeks tint red, but it might just be from the light of the laptop screen.Â
no pressure tagging @honestlydarkprincess, @giddyupbuck, @eowon, @eddiediaztho, @wildlife4life, @watchyourbuck, @thewolvesof1998, @alyxmastershipper, @jeeyuns, @fortheloveofbuddie, @hippolotamus, @ladydorian05, @callmenewbie, @nmcggg, and anybody else who wants to share something!
#if anybody's wondering we're over 15k in and no eddie's not anywhere close to realizing he is in fact head over ass in love with buck#it's all planned out and can i just say. can i just say that eddie has no inner monologue because he says everything on his mind always#and yeah yeah whatever buck's being a doll and mowing his yard before he gets ANOTHER ticket but does he have to do it shirtless#does he have to draw a whole crowd of people that eddie has to chase off because what the fuck#eddie's got groceries in the backseat he can't be arguing with his neighbors ogling buck#because if his ice cream melts he's going to throw a big fucking fit#he's waited mONTHS for the store to get lavender honey back in stock goddammit and if his nosy neighbors don't let him enjoy it#he'll have a fit#and it's all buck's fault really like why is he mowing SHIRTLESS#buck don't you know that's going to irritate your skin#BUCK DON'T YOU KNOW YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO SHOWER BEFORE YOU GO HOME#might as well not go home at that point#that's what your room is for buck just stay the night#matter of fact just stay forever#platonically tho#anyway#tag games
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Took me forever to send you this because I couldn't decide which BeyoncĂŠ lyrics to send (if the ones I picked aren't inspiring, feel free to request different ones, there's so many to pick from!) so I hope i'm not too late đ this is so fun, thank you for organizing this fest!
9:26pm, the brownstone, Alex Claremont-Diaz, "Private show with the music blasting / He like to call me Peaches when we get this nasty", rated E đ
My Ao3 username is Calou đ
fitting that you were right under the wire in submitting because it took me almost five months to get to this prompt. i hope its worth the wait!
a big thank you to everyone who submitted and to everyone who's been reading and commenting along the way. i love doing the ficlet fests, the prompts are always a delight and let me get out of any writing funk i find myself in. yall rock.
as a parting gift for Ficlet Fest 500, please enjoy exactly 1000 words of straight gay up filth, as requested in the GC.
read the rest of the ficlets here
â¤ď¸đ¤đâ¤ď¸đ¤đ
9:26pm, the brownstone
Alexâs brain falls out of his head when Henry comes downstairs. He apparently took Pezâs dress code seriously for once; heâs dressed to fucking impress. (Alex is so far past impressed heâs having heart palpitations.) Henry looks good in everything, from a full suit to sweatpants, but when he lets himself relax, lets himself lean into being one hundred percent himself, he ascends to a whole other level.
His white shorts are going to be the death of Alex. Theyâre short, showing off strong calves and stacked, polo-playing thighs, and just this side of respectably opaque. But if thereâs a strong enough backlight, anyone who isnât intimately familiar with Henryâs particular topography, will be. The shorts would be enough to cause Alex a factory reset, but then he notices the shirt. Itâs halfway unbuttoned, straining to accommodate Henryâs wide shoulders, and short enough in the torso that heâs baring midriff. And itâs one of Alexâs shirts. The novelty ice cream cone print has never looked so fucking good.Â
Alex can see the tops of Henryâs hipbonesâtheyâre mouth-wateringly obscene. Henry shouldnât be allowed out of the house like this; heâs a danger to everyone around him. Drivers will run their cars off the road, pedestrians will walk into poles, et fucking cetera. Really, Alex has a fucking duty toward public safety to tackle Henry onto their couch and take him apart with his teeth.Â
So he does.
Henry makes a noise somewhere between a squawk and a whimper and Alex wants to lick it out of his mouth. He captures Henryâs lips in a kiss as they land, barely letting him breathe, let alone put up a token protest because he feels like they should be social. Henry groans and melts into the cushions, letting Alex do whatever he wants. The trust Henry puts in him is heady, and Alex spirals that much higher when Henry throws his arms around Alexâs neck to keep him in place. His own hands are busy mapping every bit of exposed skin on Henryâs chest, slipping beneath Alexâs own fucking shirt to reach the scant inches that are still hidden below fabric. Alex takes advantage of Henryâs gasp of pleasure when Alex scratches lightly at his bicep to slip his tongue inside Henryâs mouth.
Both of them are already breathing hard, the sound of spit and panting filling the air. Alex manages to stop kissing Henryâs mouth, but only to nip down his throat, pausing at the pulse point to bite down. Henry always complains about having to be careful of covering the marks Alex leaves, but he never actually asks Alex to stop. (They were thirty minutes late to meet Nora for brunch last month when Alex caught Henry pressing down on a hickey in the bathroom and Alex had to bend him over the sink about it.) Henryâs moan at the graze of Alexâs teeth against his neck is a siren song; the way he tips his head to the side to give Alex more room, a gift from the gods.Â
Henry pushes at his head, directing Alex with a pleading whine. Alex is only too happy to oblige, nipping and licking and sucking down Henryâs sternum, fingers fumbling to open the shirt. He spends a few minutes teasing Henry, alternating kisses with quick bites across his soft belly. Alex noses along his waistband, inhaling the scent of sweat and something uniquely Henry. Alexâs hands tighten on Henryâs thighs involuntarily when Henryâs fingers find a home in his hair and pull tight. Alex canât wait another minute to get Henryâs cock in his mouth.
Alex liberates his curls from Henryâs hands and rearranges them so that Henry is sort of upright and Alex kneels on the floor between his legs. Alex means to dive in at once, but he has to take a second to fully absorb the fucking daydream of a man in front of him. Henryâs eyes have darkened, pupils blown wide and clouded with arousal. Heâs sagging into the couch, relying on the furniture to keep him sitting up, seemingly unable to count on his muscles to do the job. Henryâs flushed from his cheeks to his hips, his hairline starting to darken with sweat. Alexâs gaze keeps snagging on the hickey he leftâone fine day heâll give into the desire to leave a whole goddamn collar of them.
Henry shifts, drawing Alexâs attention to his erection, straining against the white fabric of his shorts. Alex canât help but to give him a firm stroke to his bulge, delighting in the strangled gasp it pulls from Henry. He can feel Henry twitch beneath his palm, can feel Henryâs racing pulse through the fabric, and then heâs movingâundoing Henryâs fly and pulling down his shorts and briefs in one fell swoop.
Henry actually shouts when Alex takes him to the root in one long smooth motionâheâs never been more glad for his lack of gag reflex. He stays there for a moment, breathing through his nose, the tip of Henryâs cock right at the back of his mouth. He looks up at Henry through his eyelashes. Henryâs practically shaking with the effort of holding himself still. How unnecessarily gentlemanly. Alex pries Henryâs hands out of the couch cushion and back into his hair before moving his own hands to Henryâs hips. He blinks twice, their nonverbal green signal, just to really drive the point home. With a mumbled curse, Henry starts thrusting and Alex closes his eyes, groaning every time Henryâs cock dips into his throat.
Alexâs jaw aches from the stretch, and his own cock is leaking and pressing uncomfortably against his zipper, but he couldnât care less. Heâs got Henry filling his mouth, surrounded by his hands and thighs and noises and tasteâ
Theyâre definitely going to be late to Pezâs party, if they even make it out of the house. Alex couldnât give less of a fuck if they donât; thereâll be other parties.
#cricket writes#stratocumulusperlucidus#calou#ficlet fest 500#rwrb#pov alex#PWP#no regrets#they deserve it actually#last ficlet prompt for this round#who knows when the next fest will be#certainly not me#if you saw this without the actual ficlet no you didn't
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Your writing is amazing.
Could I request a smut of how the gom would react to the s/o in there jersey only.
new format cuz.. why not hehe
Aomine:
you were suffering in the heat because the AC broke down and he forgot to call the mechanic to fix it and now it was the weekend
he was also in charge of the laundry, which he didn't do - shocker - so you didn't have your usual stuff to wear
including any undergarments
so you went looking into Aomine closet for something loose and long to wear
you were shocked to see that he still had his high school jersey
you thought it was cute the fabric was breathable so you wore it
as soon as he saw you his dick got hard.
he had come in the kitchen to get some more ice cream
you were turned around washing the bowl you had just used - in his old jersey. the jersey was too long to see if you had worn anything underneath
but it didn't matter lol
he snuck up behind you and grabbed your hips
long sloppy kisses down your neck
he presses his body against yours and you immediately melt into his touch
his hands trail down and hike the long jersey up to pull down ur panties
oh
you don't have any on
hoe. but like... his hoe you know ;)
His hand goes up to grab your throat, pulling your head back so you're facing him
his other hand fumbles to pull his shorts down so he can release his dick
his tip touches ur cervix while his tongue is tickling your tonsil
your backing up into him, he's thrusting into you like a monster - its the perfect combination for a knee-buckling orgasm, and a fuck ton of sweat
'round 2 in the shower?' you say as he slips his dick out of you.
Akashi:
you and Akashi shared a walk-in closet
while organizing some new articles of clothing he had gotten you notice something peaking out from his side of the closet
you often go and rack through his stuff so you walked over and pulled out the odd article of clothing
it was a jersey
'varpol swords'
he had told you about the event
the jersey looked like it was in good condition despite being so old
out of sheer curiosity, you decided to try it on, see if it fits.
taking off your shirt you put the jersey on and look at yourself in the floor-length mirror; you looked good.
you wanted to surprise Akashi, but first, you had to change into more comfortable clothing
you stripped out of your pants, taking off your panties too so put on your night shorts - but in the midst of putting on your shorts you hear the door open
'what're you wearing?'
you stop and look up to see Akashi, staring at you in awe
'i forgot i had that' he laughed. 'you look good in that'
'im probably better than you at basketball too,' you joke.
'it's harder than it looks,' he said walking over you
'you need to have very good hand-eye-coordination,'
you didn't know what he meant until he had you sitting between his legs, back against his chest and legs wide open with his fingers deep in your pussy.
His other hand tweaked your nipples through the thin fabric of the jersey
His fingers pumped deep inside you, twisting and turning and hitting places you didn't know existed.
You throw your head back and let out a moan before he leaned down and starts to pepper kisses on your neck and cheek.
You cum on his fingers, again, and again, and again
You physically had to push him off when you felt his fingers circle your clit
'you have stamina so that's a good start,' he laughed as he lifted you up in your arms
did he fuck you senseless with the jersey on as soon as he put you on your bed?
perhaps
Murasakibara:
big boi
a literal financial burden for his team because they have to order a new jersey for him every couple months
Which sucks for him, but you get your very own jersey to wear
he snuck one out for you - randomly grabbing it - and once you put it on you found out that it was the one he had previous to his new one
it was fucking massive
A literal dress.
and you wore it as such.
which gave you a good pre-game warnup idea
you wore a coat, the longest one you had that went down to your ankles and closed it up tight so nothing showed as you made your way to the locker room.
You waited for everyone to leave and snuck up on him.
you'd done this before - so he understood what you were trying to do.
what he didn't expect was you to pull off your coat and flash the sight of his old jersey - no bras no panties, nipples hard and showing through the fabric.
it hurt riding him - it was like sitting down on a big ass pole - but he made you anyways. he sat back and watched your boobs bounce with every movement
his hands held onto your hips as he helped slam you down in his dick
he was a lazy lover - barely putting in effort while he fucked you because he really didn't need to
he watched you struggle to take him in, pleading for him to slow down - him smiling and lifting you up and down his dick like a fleshlight.
wobbling out of the locker room you went and got a seat in the crowd. trying to keep your legs closed to keep the cum that hadn't all yet come out from dripping out of you.
Midorima:
the lucky item for your zodiac was a jersey
he rushed to give you his as soon as he heard
you were showering and he barged in and demanded you wear this for the whole day
you got out of the shower confused, wondering why he needed you to wear his jersey - but you did it anyways
coming out of bathroom with his jersey on and a towel wrapped around your head you asked him why you had to wear his - axe body spray infused - jersey all-day
he had seen you naked before - many times - and he knew you didn't take clothes in the bathroom and came out naked all the time - but seeing you like this...
pussy lips out for him to see while his jersey barely covered your breasts that peaked out from the wide arm holes.
whatever planet was in Gatorade at the moment was making cancers very horny - though it wasn't mentioned in his oh asa
midorima ate you up like it was his last meal
tongue fucking you, abusing your clit and leaving hickies on your inner thighs like a man possessed.
his nose teased your clit as he tongue fucked you - then shortly after he substituted his nose for his tongue and his tongue for his fingers.
he wasn't like a GOD at eating pussy - but he know anatomy thanks to his advanced bio class hehe
long slender fingers abused your g spot as he finger fucked you
more like finger blasted
you had never felt him go at such an intense speed before
the smell of multiple orgams eventually overruled the small of axe body spray on the jersey
Kise:
Kise loves Halloween, lets establish that
he's a whore for couples costumes
so its sitting for you both o go as Lola and bugs bunny from space jam
disaster strikes when you accidentally rip your costume while putting it on so in a panicked state you take Kises' jersey and roll it up to make the crop top you were originally supposed to have
everyone thought it was so cute that you were wearing your boyfriends jersey - but kise hadn't realized that.
after the party ended you two were alone
you were taking off your costume when you realized that Kise hadn't notice that you were wearing his jersey.
half naked with only the jersey on you ent to go show him
he grew quiet
'are you mad at me?' you asked
he wasn't, but he fucked you like he was
has you in his arms, lifted up with you folded in half as he makes you watch yourself get fucked by him.
your knees to your face as he has you against his chest while he thrusts up in you
his dick hitting the spot perfectly as he grunts out dirty, dirty things to you
demands you look at yourself as you get fucked
when you don't comply he thrusts up harshly, relishing in the sound of you whimpering
Accidentally cums on his jersey while trying to pull out for sure
Kuroko:
he knew you liked to drink, and he knew how you were like after you had a little too much
carrying you back after a night out was a challenge
'change into your pyjames, its time for bed,' he says as he gives you your pyjames.
you complain but eventually, you go to the bathroom to change and clean up
while changing you notice his jersey hanging on the hook behind the door
hehe
'how do i look?'
he turned to face you, eyed widening in shock when he saw you with his jersey on - and nothing else.
Flustered asf
'i look good right?' you laughed as you walked towards him.
he couldn't stop staring at you as you walked over to him, getting on his lap. he was sitting on the edge of the bed, you wanted to push him down on his back but you got a better idea
you began to rub your bare coochie on his clothed crotch.
wrapping your arms around his neck, you got on your knees and began to hump him
he let out whimpers whenever you would run your coochie over his dick - the one begging to be let out in get stuffed in your pussy
the both of you let out moans and whimpers as you two got closer to your release
his hands gripped your hips and helped you with momentum
you came, pressing yourself down on his, the sudden pressure rubbing him the right way and causing him to come
you leaned on his chest as you caught your breath, savouring the aftershocks of your orgasm
you felt him stand up, lifting you up in the process, before turning around and laying you down on the bed
he kissed you as his hands travelled down to the helm of his jersey
you felt him pull the shirt up, assisting him in taking it off
once the jersey was off you he pulled away and began to walk to the bathroom
'go to sleep,' he said before he threw your pyjamas at you.
#knb x reader#knb scenarios#knb x you#knb murasakibara#generation of miracles#gom#akashi smut#akashi x reader#akashi seijirou#knb akashi#midorima smut#knb midorima#midorima shintarou#midorima x reader#aomine smut#aomine daiki#aomine x reader#kuroko no basquet#kurokos basketball#kurro tetsuro#kurro x reader#kuroko no basket#murasakibara smut#murasakibara x reader#murasakibara atsushi#knb
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Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 9
Fun fact: when I was like eight I got an ultrasound done on my chest because of some non-descript heart anomaly. Got to miss a day of school and everything.Â
Anyway, on the day of cult girlâs twenty week anatomy scan, Hannibal has second thoughts about putting the baby up for adoption.
@wisesandwichshark
Trigger warnings: pregnancy and lactation, medical examination
It was a small victory, but a much-needed one.
You kept in close touch with Max and Archie over the next few, crucial weeks. Before you knew it, your first trimester ended. You tried your best to push all worries about your rapidly changing body aside, in favor of your studies. To a point, it worked. You cranked out a few research papers and kept up on your reading, but not as efficiently as you may have wanted. Your body was operating at 100% all the time and you felt like an overheated laptop with the fan running at top speed.
The morning of your twenty-week checkup arrived far quicker than you hoped. You were noticeably pregnant, having put on a good ten extra pounds to support your passenger.
Your phone alarm sounded, telling you to greet the day. You'd been in and out of an uncomfortable state of half-consciousness all night.
"Good morning, my goddess." Hannibal cooed in his admittedly very sexy morning voice. He turned on his side and faced you.
Seeing him with bedhead was definitely the best part of waking up. But the delight quickly faded when you tried to turn on your side and realized you couldn't. You plopped back onto your back, seriously considering if any amount of money was worth this.
"Don't patronize me." You pouted, folding your arms.
"Patronize you?" He chuckled, pulling you into him. "Now why on earth would I do that?"
He cupped your head in his hand and stroked your cheek. "The most divine woman in the world is carrying my baby."
Before you could say anything, he brought his lips to yours. His other hand ran down your body, tracing the outline of your firm, round belly.
"And what an honor-" He whispered, weaving his fingers through your hair. "To have Venus herself descend from Olympia to carry my child."
You didn't want to unpack what he was saying. All you knew was you liked it. Your aches seemed to melt away under his touch and your worries dissipated with every word.
"My breasts are so swollen and heavy." You complained. "And they ache so much."
"Is that so?" Hannibal smiled hungrily and propped himself up on his elbows above you. "Well, what is to be done about that, Mrs. Lecter?"
You unbuttoned your pajama shirt, revealing your significantly larger breasts. You blushed and instinctively covered yourself.
Hannibal chuckled and effortlessly pulled your hands off your chest. He lowered his face to where your neck meets your shoulder and took a deep breath in. A pair of warm, gentle hands cupped your breasts.
"You're starting to produce." He observed, a little smile creeping on his face.
Before you could really register what he meant by that, his thumb began to stimulate your swollen nipple. A small drop of milk leaked out, dampening his finger. All you could do was turn red and whimper in embarrassment.
He brought his finger to his lips and tasted it.
"It's a bit thin, but my goodness, it's sweet." He said, as nonchalantly as if he were sampling ice cream.
"Only the best for our baby." You said.
That caught him off guard in the best way. Whether you were playing along or feeling genuinely maternal, he didn't care. He wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to gratify his crippling desire to feel like a father.
"Fuck, [F/N]." He cursed, looking at your protruding belly with awe. Not awe, but worship.
He cleared his throat, chasing away any strong emotions he may have let reveal themselves. "Never mind. Let's get ready to go to the doctor."
You swung your legs over the bed. "What's wrong?"
"Absolutely nothing, my darling." Hannibal said, lying professionally. "Everything is wonderful."
You push yourself to your feet and follow him into the bathroom. "Hannibal, please."
He turned around and leaned against the sink. "It's nothing that concerns you, love. Don't worry about it."
You folded your arms. "You donât need to be a doctoral candidate to recognize deflection."
"So you don't." Hannibal said. "Darling, please understand that I have your best interests at heart. Even if it is at the expense of my desires."
"I see what this is." You nodded. "You want to keep the baby, don't you?"
"I didn't know how much I wanted a child until now." He admitted.
"But you know the emotional and physical toll it'll take on me." You finished.
"I don't know, actually." He corrected, face contorting with frustration. "Thus the basis of my hesitation. There are so many facets of life that can be molded to one's liking, but parenting-"
"I get it." You sighed. "So many things could go wrong, or right, and either way it would throw me off track."
"If I could relieve you of all of the burden of parenting this child, allowing you to step away and finish your schooling unfettered with domestic duties, I would." He said. "But if we're being honest, it's not like you would let me."
"Ruth Bader Ginsburg studied law at Harvard while taking care of a baby." You offered. "And her sick husband."
"I have no doubts in my mind that it is possible, nor that you're capable, darling." He assured you. "But I would never forgive myself if I let you burn yourself out before you even get a chance to take off."
"Okay, look." You took a deep breath. "Let's see what the obstetrician says, assess the risks, weigh the pros and cons and talk to Max and Archie. We will figure this out."
You were counting on the assumption that going for your twenty-week checkup would scare you out of any desires to keep the baby. They often did. The more time you spent with an ultrasound wand in your vagina, the more you became convinced that you'd become implanted with an alien parasite determined to destroy you from the inside.
"Good morning, Dr. And Mrs. Lecter." The obstetrician greeted you as she always did. You hadn't bothered to correct her to save yourself an awkward conversation. "Here for our twenty-week ultrasound, are we?"
"No, I'm here for the taco truck in the parking lot." You said, half-jokingly. The other half was thinking about tacos. "I just thought I'd lay down on this surgical table for fun."
"Good to see you're still hanging on to your sense of humor, [F/N]." She smirked. "Should we take a look under the hood?"
You fought the overwhelming urge to smack your belly like a car salesmen and say "this bad boy can fit so many fetuses in it". But given that there was only one fetus, that would be inaccurate.
The doctor emptied a tube of extra-freezing gel onto your stomach and readied the ultrasound wand. "Have you been feeling any kicks, Mrs. Lecter?"
You shrugged. "Maybe? I wouldn't know what that would feel like so I don't know."
She smiled warmly. "Trust me, you'll know. But don't worry about it. First pregnancies tend to take their time. When you have your next children, it will happen much faster."
"I think you mean," Hannibal said, voice hardening. "If she decides to have more children. Let's not be presumptuous."
The doctor noticed her mistake. "My apologies, Mrs. Lecter. I didn't mean to assume."
You kept your eyes on Hannibal, too afraid to look at the screen as the doctor searched around for a clear image.Â
âOh my goodness, here it is!â She exclaimed with an ear-to-ear grin.Â
It took you a minute to make out exactly what she was pointing to. It looked more like a fucked-up Rorschach test than anything resembling a person. You didn't want to say it out loud, but she sensed your confusion.
"This big round part is the head." She said, pointing to the opposite end of the screen. "There's its spine, and there are its little hands and feet."
It hit you all at once. There was a person growing inside of you. And it had limbs, bones and a brain. You finally had the answer to the question "how did something come from nothing". It was right there in front of you.
"Wow." You said, dumbfounded. "My body made that?"
"Amazing, isn't it?" The doctor smiled, clearly still as enamored with her job as she was on day one.
"And it made that without my brain even thinking about it." You continued, trying not to go into a ramble. "That's actually pretty insane."
"I told you that you're a goddess." Hannibal whispered into your ear. "My divine feminine."
"Would you like to know the sex?" She asked.Â
âSure.â You said, without really thinking about it. You looked back at Hannibal, who seemed pretty indifferent too.Â
âCongratulations, youâre having a girl.âÂ
#hannibal x reader#hannibal#hannibal lecter#hannibal x you#hannibal lecter x reader#pregnancy#domestic fluff#lactation#body worship#cult girl#cult girl 2#cult girl doctorate#more cult girl
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-Free Rent- âMelted Ice-Creamâ-
Hyunsung + fem!reader, ft. Felix
Warnings: nipple play, food play, anal play, anal penetration, creampie, unprotected sex, face-fucking, etc.
Moving in with the boys was a lot more fun than you had thought. Sure, the day you moved in, Minho and Chan chose to welcome you in the most unconventional way possible...but it had been two days since Chan spent the night with you after that big dinner, and nothing sexual had happened since then.
They were quite kind, and not the reckless hooligans that Mina had made them out to be. The dinner theyâd made to celebrate your arrival was probably the most delicious thing youâd ever tasted. They were all very courteous to you, and for the next two days they helped you settle in.
You were currently sitting on the sofa watching a movie along with Felix, who you quickly realized was a bit of a cuddler.
He had his arm around you, pressing your body close to his as he watched. It was a stark contrast to the last time he had his arms around you, holding on to your waist as you rode his cock.
To your knowledge, Changbin and Minho had gone to the grocery store for supplies, while Seungmin and Jeongin had already gone to sleep in their room. Hyunjin and Jisung were also in the living room, but they werenât paying any attention to the movie; one was sprawled on the floor with his phone while the other was focusing all his concentration on a plate of leftover cheesecake.
You couldnât deny that originally, you had expected them to not really warm up to you in this way, thinking that some of them would view you as nothing more than a sex object. Your fears were invalid, as they were all quite eager to accommodate you, and you were starting to feel quite comfortable with each and every one of them.
Suddenly you felt Felixâs hand which was around your shoulder sneak down to your breast, softly groping it. You looked up to see him staring at you, biting his lip. âIs this okay?â He whispered. You nodded, shuddering as he let his thumb ghost over your nipple. You looked at Hyunjin and Jisung, but both of their eyes were still trained on the phone and cake, respectively.
Felix softly rubbed your bud through the thin tank top, leaning in lightning quick to suck wetly on your nipple, moving to your other nipple and taking that into his mouth as well. He leaned away, his eyes roving over how his saliva had made the white fabric transparent, your nipples now clearly visible. He went back to drawing circles on your buds with his thumb, his gaze drifting back to the television for a while, chuckling at the way your breathing was laboured.
He leaned in close to your ear. âYou have perfect tits, y/n. Maybe youâll let me fuck them? Letâs go to my room.â
You looked at Jisung. âWhat about him?â You said, referring to Felixâs roommate. He shook his head. âTrust me, Jisung prefers savouring his cheesecake at a really slow pace.â
You were about to agree when you heard Chanâs voice. Felixâs hand quickly dropped from your boob as the four of you turned around to see a smiling Chan.
âHi guys. Uh, Iâd like to talk to y/n, if thatâs fine?â
They all nodded, even Felix, who reluctantly let go of you. You got up and walked over to Chan who grabbed your hand and led you aside to the kitchen.
âHey, just wanted to tell you that if you do want your room painted, we can get someone to do that. Of course you wouldnât be able to sleep there for a few nights...itâs alright, Minho and I will sleep on the sofa, and you can take our room.â
You giggled nervously. âOh, no...please donât go that trouble. Iâll sleep on the sofa. Itâs really more comfortable than my old bed, so-â
Chan cut you off. âNo, you can sleep in any of our rooms. The beds can fit three anyway. I was just afraid that you would feel uncomfortable...youâre not sleeping on the sofa.â
You opened your mouth to respond, but Chan spoke before you could say anything. âSo...thereâs something else. A girl called Mina keeps calling here, but youâre never around when she does. Does the name ring a bell...?â
Mina. Fuck. You hadnât spoken to her since she told you about this whole thing. You felt guilt settle itself in your heart, promising yourself that you would call her tomorrow, since you knew she never kept her phone with her after 8 PM. Some weird âmindfulnessâ thing. You sighed. It had only been about three days, but you missed Mina and her inclination for yoga and smoothies that she claimed were âhealthyâ...(when you knew they consisted of just oranges, peaches and a shit ton of sugar.)
âYeah, sheâs my best friend.â
Chan widened his eyes. âAh, okay then. Anyway, Iâll let you get back to what you were doing. Wouldnât wanna let Felix down, right?â You gasped, as he winked at you. So he did see what was happening.
He left the kitchen, presumably to go back to his room. It was about 10 PM. You werenât feeling very sleepy, but you knew it was time to go to bed, since you needed to wake up early tomorrow. Even though it was a Saturday, you knew that Mina had to go to an environmental club meeting in the afternoon, so you had to meet her before then.
You went back to the living room, searching the room for Felix only to see him absent. You frowned, going to sit down on the sofa. âGuys, whereâs Felix?â
Hyunjin scoffed. âOh, so now we exist?â
You raised your eyebrows. âWait, what?â
Jisung rolled his eyes, setting down his empty plate on the table and coming over to sit beside you, leaning forward, his face hovering in front of yours. âYou think we didnât notice? Weâre not blind.â He gestured to the two wet spots on your shirt, and you mentally smacked yourself for forgetting. So thatâs how Chan came to know. You felt a blush spread across your cheeks, embarrassed.
Hyunjin finally tore his eyes away from his phone, getting up off the floor to sit on your other side, his hand firmly gripping your thigh.
âFelix went to his room to sleep right after you left with Chan.â
Ah. So thatâs why he left. He probably thought that Chan was taking you away to spend the night with him. You shook your head. If only heâd waited a few more minutes...
You jolted back to reality when Hyunjinâs fingers now crept up your thigh, pressing against your underwear. His graceful fingers pressed your clit, as Jisung pulled the sleeve of your tank top down, exposing your boob. His finger came up to touch your nipple, which was still slightly wet from what Felix had done earlier.
âYou really seemed to enjoy what Felix was doing to your nipples...â He pinched one, a squeal ripping from you when he did so. âFelix loves your boobs. Itâs the first observation he made about you.â Jisung leaned in to lick a stripe over your nipple, looking over at Hyunjin.
âNot gonna join?â
âIâm more of an ass guy myself.â
Jisung grinned. âSo am I.â
Jisung paused for a minute, seemingly deep in thought, before his eyes widened and he stood up.
âI have an idea.â
He left the room and you looked at Hyunjin, confused. He shrugged, pulling you onto his lap. He tugged at the hem of your top, pulling it off of you. He pulled down your shorts next, and put his hands on your ass cheeks. He stretched them apart as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with ardor.
âGod, y/n, you drive me crazy. Iâve been waiting to have my way with you again since that day we all fucked you. Truth be told, I wish Jisung wasnât a part of this right now, but weâll get our alone time later. After all, youâre not leaving any time soon, right?â
You nodded, and he spoke again. âThereâs just something about you. I think itâs the way your innocence co-exists with your sexiness...we all noticed it. It was why we chose you almost immediately. A lot of candidates came by, you know? None of them had that je ne sais quoi...the spark.â
He put his finger in his mouth and wet it. You moaned, because as he was speaking he had pulled your thong to the side, his saliva-covered finger tracing your rim.
Jisung came back into the room just then, holding a bottle of lube and...a tub of ice-cream?
You looked on, confused, as he set down the things on the table. Just then Hyunjinâs finger slipped into your anus and you gasped. He moved it in and out shallowly.
Jisung suddenly came over and lifted you off of Hyunjin, carrying you and placing you on the armchair instead. You heard Hyunjin let out an indignant sound, which he ignored. Jisung smirked up at you as he lifted the lid off the tub of ice cream. There was only a little bit left, enough for about a scoop or so, and it was all melted. Jisung used a spoon to take some and drip it all over your stomach, some of it pooling in your belly button. Though it was melted, it was still cold, and the sensation was making you dizzy. He drizzled some over your boobs as well. Throwing the spoon on the floor, he leaned in to lick the cream off you slowly.
He was taking his time, his tongue laving over your skin. Through half-open eyes you saw Hyunjin come over, leaning in to lick the ice-cream off your boobs as Jisung paid attention to your belly button, his tongue swirling around it.
Your wetness was gushing out of you by now, and you wanted to press your thighs together...but Jisung kept them spread apart. His fingers were hovering near your center...the attention you were being given was nice, but you were getting impatient.
Finally, you let out a load moan. âJust fuck me already!â The two boys stopped, looking at you. That was a mistake. There was anger flashing across their eyes now.
Jisung picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and taking you to Hyunjinâs room, which was close to the kitchen. Changbin still hadnât come back from the grocery store, so it was currently empty. When he reached, he threw you down on the bed with a lot more force than necessary, and you whimpered as he crawled over you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hyunjin close the door behind him.
âFucking whore. Canât you just take what weâre giving you without any complaints?â
You felt the bed dip as Hyunjin moved onto it, settling above you. From your position, you could only see his face upside-down...but the frown on his face was still clear.
You closed your eyes. Jisung lifted your leg up over his shoulder as he pulled your thong off. His fingers went to your ass.
He looked up at Hyunjin. âYou got to have her ass last time, so itâs my turn now. I bet sheâs tight as hell...â
He squirted some lube onto his fingers, and applied it to your anus, two of his fingers slipping in at once, causing you to throw your head back and open your mouth in a loud moan. Just as you opened your mouth, you felt someone shove their cock in between your lips, sliding in. You choked, tears slipping down as your eyes shot open. Hyunjin pulled you up slightly so he could fuck your throat easier.
Meanwhile Jisung pulled his fingers out, pulling down his sweatpants enough so his cock could come out. He stroked it a few times before aligning it with your anus.
âYou said you wanted to get fucked, slut? Here you go.â
His cock rammed into your ass and you cried out, gagging around Hyunjinâs length.
The pain quickly gave way to pleasure as the two of them worked up a rhythm. Hyunjin let his hands drift over your sticky skin, pinching from time to time. The slight, sudden bursts of pain made you clench around Jisung each time, causing him to groan loudly.
Jisung pulled out, followed by Hyunjin. He flipped you around so you were on your stomach, and Hyunjin moved up so that you could suck his cock more comfortably. You opened your mouth to take him in just as you felt Jisung slam back into you, his length moving in and out of you rapidly.
His grip on your hips was so tight, that you were sure bruises would form. You looked up at Hyunjin who gazed at you with a serious look on his face, absent-mindedly rubbing circles on your shoulder as he face-fucked you.
Jisungâs cock twitched in you, and you knew he was getting close. His hands reached down to rub on your clit furiously, and you hit your high quickly. He came almost right after, pulling out and watching his cum leak down your ass to your pussy.
Hyunjinâs thrusts were getting sloppy too. He pulled out, and told you to sit up. You did. He groaned as he stroked his cock, cumming all over your boobs. Hyunjin sighed, leaning back and pressing his face to his pillow, falling asleep quickly.
You turned around to face Jisung, who bit his lip as he surveyed you, covered with white fluid that could either be cum or ice-cream. He leaned forward all of a sudden and scooped you up into his arms, getting up and kicking the door open with his feet.
Baffled, you stared up at him.
He saw your expression and laughed. âOh look at you, y/n. Your nipples are literally covered with cum...so wet and erect. I think Iâd be a pretty shitty friend if I didnât take you to Felix.â
You blushed as you remembered Felixâs intentions. Jisung smiled down at you as he stepped out of Hyunjinâs room to take you to his...only to bump into someone.
The two of you looked up to see Changbin, his hands holding grocery bags.
He took one look at you and glared.
âNow, just where do you think youâre going without me? Cause whatever this is, I want to be a part of it.â
#skz smut#stray kids smut#han smut#jisung fluff#kpop imagines#jisung smut#han jisung smut#hyunjin smut#hwang hyunjin smut#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin angst#jisung angst#han fluff#han angst#stray kids#skz#felix smut#lee felix smut#yongbok smut
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And Chocolate for Dinner - Namjoon
Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)
Wordcount: 3.7k
Genre: smut, fluff
Rating: 18+Â
Hello babies, very NSFW Namjoon birthday fic right here! (Minors DO NOT READ OR INTERACT, PLEASE)
I wonât even say anything because Iâve just finished editing the banner and Iâm honestly NOT in the right state of mind, still shocked from yesterdayâs selfie AND that interview, you know what Iâm talking about.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: very daddy. A lot. Heavy food play. Unprotected sex within an established relationship (please, be careful yâall!) Fingering. Buff, daddy Namjoon. (did I say daddy?) Wall banging ;). Mentions of oral. Size kink. Also a small mention of YoongixKitten... LOL. Â
Wordcount: 3.7k
Here is my masterlist
And here a kind reminder that you should probably vote for the next prompt (check my bio for the link) :)
Enjoy!
"Vixen, baby I'm home!" Namjoon called from the entry.
You stayed in the kitchen â not like you had any choice.Â
"Baby, are you home?" He called again, following the light in the corridor. "Holy fuck babe, yeah."
Yes, he had found you.Â
At the kitchen table.Â
Scratch that. On the kitchen table.Â
Naked.Â
A chocolate cake for two propped on your belly, together with a fancy silver fork.Â
"Happy birthday, love." You greeted from the table, moving only as much as the cake allowed.Â
"Fuck, is this a dream?" He asked, wide eyed, his incredulous expression quickly shifting to a big and ecstatic smile.Â
"It's your birthday, daddy. I just tried making one of your wishes come true." You teased.Â
"Vixen, love, I'm going to spoil you rotten, baby." He said, taking a seat. "You trust me with the silverware on you?" He asked, surprised.Â
"Thereâs a small plastic disk at the base of the cake. Plus you're old now, mister, time to learn some manners. I'm not going to let you eat with your hands." You chastised. "I'll need those for later." You teased.Â
He winked at you. "I can eat dessert before dinner?" He asked, happy like a three year old who'd just been granted ice cream for dinner.Â
"This is just an appetiser. A snack." You said, carefully pointing to the cake. "And this is the whole meal." You said, your hand waving down your naked body.Â
His belly laugh echoed in the kitchen.Â
"Then let me start quick so we can move on to the main course. I've heard the house offers excellent fox meat tonight."
You smiled brightly at him as he bent down to your lips. âI love you so much, little one.â He pressed a kiss to your mouth, then to your forehead. âYou have no idea how much.â
âEat quick, the chocolate sauce is starting to melt and it tickles like hell.â You begged.
He smiled wickedly, grabbing the fork. âLast time I checked tickling turned you on, babylove.â
You pouted, watching him cut some cake and take the first bite. âIt wouldnât be ideal for me to break into a fit of giggles right now.â You commented.Â
He nodded, taking another bite. âIâm sorry, love.â He confessed. âHow ungrateful of me to tease you after such a beautiful surprise.â With his spare hand he caressed your hair, then touched your lips. âYouâre so precious to me, little one.â He bent down again, his chocolate stained lips landing on yours.
You licked his lips sweetly, as innocently as possible. âDo you like your cake?â You asked, faking demureness, waiting for nothing but his praise.
âI love it, little one. But I love the plate way, way more.âÂ
Carefully he took a piece of cake to your lips. âTaste some, baby.â He said, feeding you a piece a bit too big, especially considering that you were laying down.Â
âSorry, doll. I fed you too much, uh?â He caressed your face as you munched, cheeks full, gulping with difficulty. âWant something to drink, ____?â
You kept munching, shaking your head delicately.Â
You inhaled sharply as a droplet of chocolate slipped onto your belly. âJoon.â You whined. Â
âYes.â He ate another bite. He was halfway through the small cake.Â
âChocolate. Near my belly button. Quick, please.â You said, your lower abs twitching as the sauce tickled you.Â
He raised an eyebrow at you, his eyelids lowered in a sultry gaze.Â
Slowly, he lowered his face to your skin, licking you seductively.Â
âJoonie.â You whimpered. âIt tickles daddy.â
âIâm sorry, little one.â He went back to the cake, making eye contact as he started the other half. âDo you want another piece, baby? A small one, this time.â He said, blushing slightly as he remembered his previous mistake.
âPlease.âÂ
He brought the fork to your mouth, the piece maybe accidentally falling on your chest. âOh, sorry baby fox.â He said with faux guilt in his voice.Â
You pouted.Â
âHere,â he said, collecting the piece with his lips and offering it to yours. Your kiss felt heavy with chocolate sauce, slippery and sticky. His mouth made you want indecent things.Â
âThatâs so good, Joonie.â You mewled, your legs squeezing together.Â
âIs my babylove growing impatient?â He teased, caressing your hip.Â
You nodded, your face made up with the sweetest, childish disappointment, a bratty remark ready on your lips.Â
âOpen your legs, Vixen.â He commanded. He smeared his fingers in chocolate, drawing a line between your breasts, up to your mouth. He tapped his digits on your lower lip, inviting you to suck on him.Â
You carried out his intention, offering up even more, licking his fingertips deviously.Â
âLook at that doll mouth,â he praised with wonder in his voice. âYeah, baby, take it all.â
You nodded, proud.Â
âThatâs it, baby fox. Lick âem clean.â He continued.Â
Wetness oozed from your slit, coating your thighs, condensation gathering on the table.Â
âYouâre so hot, Vixen. So incredibly sexy.â He murmured as he lapped at the chocolate line he had drawn on your body.Â
You parted your legs obediently. âNow what, daddy?â You said, biting your lip with a lazy grin.Â
He kissed the small snake tattooed on your pelvis. âYou smell so good, baby thing.âÂ
He took a bite of the cake directly with his mouth, heading south.Â
You grabbed his hair, pulling him away roughly as you needed to stop him quickly. âThatâs not safe, love.â You chastised seriously. âSugars mess up the natural balance down there.â
He listened carefully and nodded. âSorry. I didnât know.â He murmured, coming up to your mouth.Â
You giggled as you noticed some crumbles on the tip of his nose. âItâs okay. Dork.â You giggled, cleaning the crumbles away with your finger, eating them from your digit.Â
He shook his head, tutting at you. âVixen, baby. Do you want to play a game?â He asked, peppering small kisses on you.Â
You raised your eyebrows, curiosity running through your veins. âWhat is it?â
âWould you like to touch yourself? Get ready for me?â He offered?
Stretch yourself out. Thatâs what he meant. You were most definitely getting fucked after this one, and apparently not in the loving, soft way you had expected.
You tried reaching for your pelvis without knocking the cake over. Carefully calculating the angle of your elbow, you successfully managed to touch your clit, nodding.Â
âGood girl.â He kissed your nose. âAlways such a good girl for daddy.â He cooed, caressing your cheek.Â
âIâm so wet, daddy.â You whined, your fingers almost too slippery over our clit.Â
âThatâs because youâve been a good girl.â He explained with a condescending tone.Â
You rolled your eyes.Â
âBaby is getting petty, uh?â He growled, âYou were doing so good, little one. You wouldnât want to get daddy angry when youâre so close, mh?â He put down the fork on your belly, the cold metal slightly warmed up by his grip, then he laid his head beside your ear. âI can turn this into torture, babylove. I can make you touch yourself until I finish the cake. And Iâm feeling a little full, so I might take a pause, wait a while, and continue eating later.â He whispered before raising to his feet, taking a couple steps away. âMaybe I might finish it tomorrow morning for breakfast.â He announced nonchalantly.
âIâm sorry, daddy. Iâm a spoiled brat.â You cried out, afraid of seeing him leave.Â
He turned around, raising an eyebrow, clenching his jaw, observing you. He came back and sat down, cupping your cheek. âYouâre forgiven, love.â
He picked up his fork again. âI need you to cum, Vixen. Stop toying with it.â He said, using his spare hand to guide the hand between your thighs.Â
You whimpered. âDaddy.â
He kept eating, unbothered. âYes, babylove?â
âI want you inside.â
âThen make yourself cum, so I can finish the cake and fuck you against the wall, baby fox.â
Your hand stilled. âAgainst the wall?â
âI promised you I would.â He replied.
You made a small âoâ with your lips, which soon turned into a smug grin as you began to move your hand in earnest. He mimicked your expression, mocking you, before eating a smaller bite of cake. He was temporizing.Â
âDaddy.â This time you moaned.Â
âWhat is it, little one?â
âCan you please kiss me, daddy?â You pleaded.Â
He smiled at you kind and gentle. âWith pleasure, baby.â He gave you a taste of his lips, kissing your lower one, the corner of your mouth.Â
And then you felt it, the intrusion of his fingers inside you.Â
You whined out loud, mouth opening wide, and smartly he covered your mouth with his, his tongue tangling with yours in a drooly mess.Â
Parting from you, he whispered: âDonât worry, itâs my clean hand.â He reassured you, kissing where your jaw met your neck, under your ear.Â
âI love you, Joonie.â You whispered as you slowly climbed to your climax, trying to ride his fingers.
Using his spare hand to hold your face, dwarfing your head, he looked you in the eye, staring half worried, half turned on at your helpless expression. âRelax, baby. Youâre safe with me.â
His deep voice, the sweet comfort of his words helped you take the final leap off the edge, precipitating into the dark spiral of your orgasm.Â
You came silently while his forearm blocked you from buckling your hips wildly and throwing the cake off yourself. You moved your hand away as he kept massaging your inner walls, stretching you properly to make sure he wouldnât hurt you later. âTell me when itâs too much, ____.â He reminded you.
You enjoyed it another five seconds or so before caressing his face. âOkay, Joonie.â
He nodded, taking his fingers away from you and immediately pushing them in his mouth, moaning with his eyes closed. âThe fucking sweetest.â He growled with affection as he freed his fingers. Sitting on the table beside you, he caught hold of the plastic disk, lifting the cake from your belly, moving his other hand behind your shoulders to raise you up.Â
âCome here, Vixen. My sweet angel.â He propped you up on his shoulder as he found the fork. With his arm around you, he fed you the remnant quarter of the cake. âYou need your energies, babylove.â He kissed your temple as he fed you. âYouâre amazing, princess.â He praised you. He had always had a kink for praising you after sex. Well, after any sexual activity. âAre you okay, Vixen?â He murmured, putting the dish on the table before holding you close to him, careful not to smash the chocolate work of art ��� or what was left of it.
You nodded. âIâm just a bit fucked out.â You giggled.Â
âDo you want a shower and sleep?â He asked. Sure, he was hard as hell, but that was not the point.Â
âI want you against the wall.â You murmured. âDonât think I havenât noticed how buff youâve been getting, mister.â You teased, asking yourself whether you had any sense of self preservation, considering that you were still fucked out but you were already searching for more.Â
He laughed. âYouâve noticed?â
You nodded. âHave you been doing that to fuck me against the wall?â You asked.Â
âFor that reason too.â He admitted. âI love feeling healthy. And being strong enough to take care of my baby is most definitely another pro of this situation.â Once more he took hold of the plate, feeding you again. âYou mentioned you were interested.â He whispered quietly. âI wanted to give it to you.â
You looked at him wide eyed. âWell, of course itâs a fantasy, but you don't have to make it happen.â
He bit his lip, insecure. Maybe you didnât want it anymore. He frowned. âBut I wanted to.â he objected.Â
It was your turn to caress his face, stealing the fork from his hand, taking half of the last bite for yourself, his gaze focused on your sinful mouth. As you swallowed, you took the last piece and brought it to his lips. He ate. âI love you, Namjoon. And if getting buff is your goal Iâll stand by it and root for you.â You encouraged. âBut donât you ever feel like you have to get thicker to keep me interested in you. Or to make me attracted by you.â You removed the fork and the cake from your action zone, then, with a motion of your foot, you made him slide off the table and stand at the edge of it.Â
You noticed with immense pleasure that his trousers were significantly strained. You straddled his hips.Â
âIâm attracted by whatâs in here.â You said, your polished nail tapping against his temple. âAnd here.â You said, dragging your fingernail against his sternum. âThe package is cute, sure, but itâs not what I feel in the dark, when I tell you I love you before I fall asleep.â You murmured, your voice getting emotional. âIâm so in love with you.â You said, grabbing his face and kissing him. He tried to bring you closer.Â
âOff with the shirt. Chocolate stains.â You explained, gripping and tugging at the dark cotton of his black tee.Â
His hands helped you, then flew to your hair, bringing you closer, chest to chest.Â
âThe zipper, baby, please.â He groaned, almost pained.Â
You nodded, kissing him again, your âsorry loveâ getting lost on your mouths. As you undid his belt you felt your hands tremble nervously, just like the first time.Â
âBaby, please.â He whined again.Â
âI canât, love.â You growled, frustrated, shoving your hands away.Â
He chuckled. "Baby's impatient. God, your hands shake every time, ____." He undid his belt and slapped your hands away as you tried to take over with the zipper. "How many times, Vixen? In the last ten months you've seen my cock more than I have." He teased as he undressed before you.Â
"Joonie. Naked. Now." You chastised.Â
His chest shook with laughter. "I'm here, my love." As soon as he rose, you looped your arms around his neck, tucking your face under his chin. âHere, baby.â He murmured sweetly. âYouâre so cute when you act shy.â He continued, kissing your head.Â
âYouâre too tall.â You whispered from his chest.
He shook his head with a snicker. âYour size kink is out of the world, babygirl, donât pretend you donât like how big I am.â
âI hate when youâre right.â You said, puckering your lips.Â
He tilted your head back. âI love you, you dumb little fox.â He whispered playfully.Â
Shutting your eyes tight, you hid in his chest even more.Â
âTell me how you want me, little vixen.â He whispered in your ear after ducking his head.
âInside. Now.â You protested.Â
He caressed your face. âHere, on the table?â He asked.
You nodded. âYou can just pick me up and turn around and do me against the wall when Iâm close.â You instructed. That position was tiring and troublesome, youâd better save it for when the orgasm felt close, so that the physical effort would last less.
He snickered. âOkay, your highness.â He joked at your commandeering attitude.Â
âI might like that nickname.â You teased back, one of your arms untangling from his neck and reaching down, stroking his hard on and bringing the tip to your entrance.Â
âIâll save it for the next roleplay, then.â He kissed your brow. âLook at me, angel.â He whispered as you positioned him correctly. âI love you so much, ____.â He moaned as he slipped in, your hand slowly sliding down his length as he entered you, until he was fully sheathed inside you and your hand cupped his balls.Â
âJoonie.â You whined.Â
He shushed you with a kiss. After all these months â and pretty intense one at that â, it was still new. Your face still scrunched in that lovely way, your inner walls still hugged him like the most perfect velvet glove. âVixen, you okay baby?â
You nodded, your mouth going a little bit everywhere, hanging open, pressed to his skin to keep yourself from screaming his name. He was still that good. Even better. He was always so tender, so delicate, his big hands touching you like you were his porcelain doll, always so gentle and careful during his first few strokes. And inside he was always so big you had to take a minute to adjust, the thickness of him giving you a mindblowing stretch. There were nights in which he gave you orgasms back to back, with his hands, with his mouth, stretching you open with his fingers and various toys, and still it felt like only he could fill you to the brim, almost to the breaking point.Â
âJoonie bear,â You murmured. âWanna take care of you.â You whimpered.
âLetâs lay you down, love.â He grumbled, bending forward as you stretched down, laying on the table, the shift making him move inside you, his tip rubbing the bottom of your inner cavity.
âFuck, Joonie, move.â You commanded with a whine.Â
He obeyed, his arms still cradling you, looped under your waist and the other around your neck. He was literally latching onto you, so close you were melting into each other.Â
Your mouth searched for his neck, leaving hickies on his pectorals, toying at his nipples with your teeth and tongue.Â
âVixen, dammit, love, youâre gonna ruin me.â He growled.Â
Your hands scratched down his spine, grabbing his ass, pushing him into you. âYouâre gonna make me cum babe, stop it.â He fucked into you angrily and you moaned loudly into his chest.Â
âDaddy, harder, please...â You whimpered.
Reading your cue â and because he knew your body better than you did â he picked you up again, turning around and getting closer to the kitchen wall. âReady, Vixen?â
âIs it...?â You asked, so fucked out of your mind that you had barely registered the movement, your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, while his hands were now groping your ass, his face scrunched in effort, but still sporting a mischievous smile at the advantaged grip he had on your bottom.
âYes, love.â He left a peck on your lips. âCareful, little one, itâs gonna be cold.â He said, before making your skin adhere to the chilly marble tiles.
You moaned at the shift in temperature, the coolness at your back and his warmth on your front. He took a minute to position you properly, making sure that you stayed up but also close to him. The first thrusts were tentative, slow and deep, his arms keeping you up while his hips worked on you.Â
There was some cruelty in the position, you discovered, as you tried to tip your head back, moaning for him, but the wall stopped your movement. You had to settle to turning your head to the side, your muscles so feeble that it fell heavy on his shoulder.Â
"Are you good, Vixen?" He asked, breathless.Â
You only managed to nod as your inner walls began squeezing around him.Â
Humming darkly, he latched his lips against your neck, drawing a crimson splodge before asking you: âCan you touch yourself for me, ____?âÂ
You silently obeyed and immediately his thrusts grew restless and deeper, almost painful with the way he was pushing your legs open.Â
Naturally, both your heads bent down to look at where your bodies joined, Namjoon getting distracted by your chest, sucking on your nipples and bruising your skin in an attempt to muffle his cries. By now his forehead was sweaty, droplets rolling off his skin and onto your chest, the heaviness of them  punctuating your breath and his thrusts in an obscene pattern of beats. It was a matter of seconds: with three rubs of your clit, your kegels spasmed, making him lose his mind and push you up higher, sliding and bouncing on his lap. Like a sensual chain reaction, the new angle teased your g-spot perfectly, sending you on cloud nine, and then down, fast, to the burning pits of hell, your skin melting at the hotness of your climax. Your spare hand gripping and scratching his back recklessly was all he needed, his own release manifesting as he followed you suit in pleasure, crying out your name, trembling against your skin.Â
You were holding onto each other for dear life, panting like exhausted beasts, eyes closed, lost in the sudden silence disturbed only by your breaths.Â
âNamjoon.â You moaned quietly, your ears tingling with your sudden change in blood pressure.
He hid into your neck. âLove, I think we have to do it again. Not now, but sometime again.â He whispered. âYou feel so tiny on me.â He kissed your cheek, your brow, your heavy lids. âI love you.â He murmured.Â
You could barely nod. You were a mess. A slippery, wet mess, sweat coating your skin, cum smeared all over your thighs, Namjoonâs saliva dripping down your nipples, drying on the bruised swells of your breasts.
âI want you on the bed Joon.â You whined. âI want to lick you clean. Sixty-nine. Ride you so you can spank me and call me your little girl until I fuck you so good you forget everything but my name.â You provoked him, squeezing him a couple times. He was hard again.Â
Glorious.Â
His chuckles turned into a groan when you tightened around him. âLet me take you to bed, then, babygirl.â And with that he slipped out of you and gently bowed down, throwing you over his shoulder, smacking your ass as he walked to the bedroom. âHold on tight, cause itâs gonna get wild, brat.â
⍡â⍸ â ⍡â⍸ â ⍡â⍸ â ⍡â⍸
In the apartment next door.Â
Yoongi stared at his dish in absolute disgust. âWe need to move away from here.â
Kitten shook her head. âThank fuck birthdays are only once a year.â
Yoongi stared at her with a desperate look on his face. âOh, youâre forgetting her birthday, in a few weeks, apparently. And you werenât here their first weekend together. And what about that time, was it her promotion?â
âI will never forget her promotion.â Kitten groaned.Â
âWhat about when he came back from LA?â Yoongi teased.Â
âWhen all of you came back from LA.â Kitten replied, arching her eyebrows with a fake angelic smile, reminding him how heâd barely closed the apartment door before falling to his knees, tugging her panties down and out of the way, hunching up her skirt and eating her out against the entryway. âDonât forget that you make me loud too.â She shook her head. âAnd you get quite messy too, mister groan.âÂ
He nodded. Well, having to listen to the neighbours might be an inconvenience butâŚÂ
âAre you horny too?â He asked.Â
âKitchen counter or the sofa?â She replied, standing up, already taking off her shirt, only covered in her knickers.Â
He stood up, standing behind her. âJust bend over.â He said, slipping her panties to the side.Â
#bts smut#bangtan smut#namjoon smut#kim namjoon#namjoon reaction#namjoon x reader#namjoon scenario#namjoon imagine
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Empty Promises - Maxwell Lord x GN!Reader
Summary: The reader is a forgotten past romance and works for Maxwell Lord. Theyâve secretly been taking care of Alistair when Maxwell failed to do so. When he starts to take notice and offers them a promotion, they speak their mind.
Warnings: Angst
Masterlist
âAlistair!â, Maxwell beamed, spinning his son around while locking eyes with one of his many assistants. âI didnât know youâd be back so soon!â
âItâs your week with him Mister Lord, you ex-wife just had him dropped offâ, a lady in a pencil skirt informed him.
You rolled your eyes at the both of them. Maxwell did this every time, too caught up in his bank statements and bleached hair to pay attention to his own bloody flesh and blood. It wasnât long before the young boy was kicked out of the office once again. Youâd watched this scene every other week, your heart aching for the poor kid, this had to stop.
âHey there little man, howâs it hangingâ, you started, kneeling beside the chair he was sat in.
âIâm boredâ, he sighed, eyes glued to his tan hands.
âI see.. wanna come check out my office? I have my own fridge filled with snacksâ, you spoke, whispering the last part of the phrase.
Alistair looking up at that, eyes sparkling with excitement. âReally?â
You nodded, smiling at him as he took your hand. âCâmon Iâll show you around, letâs have some fun.â
 The two of you had become inseparable over the weeks, spending every otherwise so dull moment together in your office, which youâd given a little revamp. Your mother had given you some of your old and retired toys that you kept in the bottom drawer of your desk. A small chair was also added, which your friend had graciously gifted to you.
Every day after Maxwell dropped his son off with someone else, youâd go and look for him. Once you found him you took him to your little, what he referred to as, clubhouse. Alistair would re-enact movie scenes with the dolls and toy cars youâd given him while you wrote away on your typewriter. Because despite the new self-acclaimed responsibility of taking care of your bossâ son, you also still had your actual job to do.
âY/n, why canât we play at home?â, the boy asked as the two of you ate your lunches together.
âAh sweetheart, you know we canât, weâre work friendsâ, you cooed, ruffling through his hair.
âDaddy said itâs fine, I can have friends overâ, he continued, eyes filled with hope.
You went to stand, quickly stretching before grabbing two cans of soda out of your small fridge. âWell, I donât think your daddy likes me that much, niĂąo.â
âHe said you went to adult school together.â
âDid he now? I thought heâd forgotten all about meâ, you laughed, handing Alistair a can as well.
âHe thinks youâre pretty and that youâre very smart tooâ, he said between gulps, a little bit of soda trickling down his chin in his enthusiasm.
âYour daddy said a lot of things to me back in the day Ali, but people donât always mean what they sayâ, you sighed, a sense of nostalgia washing over you as you remembered your time with Maxwell back in college.
âDaddy never plays with me, he always promises me but heâs never homeâ, the child whispered, lip starting to quiver.
âHey, your daddy loves you, okay. He loves you so so so much, heâs just⌠very busy.â You wrapped your arms around him, wiping some of the tears that had fallen from his eyes.
âI donât think he means thatâ, the boy sobbed. That was the exact moment your heart shattered and you vowed yourself to fill the void Maxwell had left to the best of your abilities.
âHow about I come over to play some more tonight? Iâll sneak in some ice cream too, your dad doesnât have to know.â
 That night you went home with Alistair after arranging with the nanny that youâd be taking over for the night. She was grateful to have you take over, eager to get home to her own family. So here you were, sitting in the colourful bedroom, laughing away with your tiny friend.
âNo way, my Action Man is waaaaay cooler looking than yoursâ, you giggled.
âYeah but mine will kick your buttâ, Alistair retorted, throwing the dolls at one another, acting out an intense fighting scene.
âHey! No fair, you snuck up on me, thatâs against the Action Man code!â, you yelped, tackling the boy to the floor and tickling at his sides.
âSince whenâ, he spurted out between fits of laughter.
âSince I said so little Misterâ, you ordered, grinning as you helped him to sit up straight again.
He wrapped his little arms around you, burying his head in the crook of your neck. âThank you for playing with me.â
âAh no you donât, donât get all sappy and gross nowâ, you jokingly warned. âCâmon, itâs bedtime.â
âWill you stay to read me a story?â, he asked, eyes pleading.
You couldnât resist. After heâd changed into his pyjamas and brushed his teeth after you pushed him back into the bathroom four times, you finally tucked him in. He fell asleep after not even a page of his âArthurâ storybook.
With a sad smile plastered on your face you left his room, carefully shutting the door so as to not wake him. You grabbed your bag and headed downstairs, looking forward to ending to day yourself.
âY/n?â, a familiar voice sounded.
âMister Lordâ, you greeted, reaching for the door handle.
âActually, would you mind staying another ten minutes or so, I need to speak with you.â
You shrugged, crossing your arms in front of you as you turned around to face him. He beckoned you to follow him into his living room, urging you to sit down as he offered you a glass of Scotch. You politely declined and waited for him to start talking.
âMy Alistair has told me youâve been taking care of him during your shifts, is this true?â he questioned, playing around with the melting ice in his glass.
âThe kidâs bored out of his mind every moment heâs stuck there. So yes, I look after him from time to time. Is there a problem?â
âNo! No, not at all, in fact, Iâd like to thank you. I looked into your files and noticed your pay is quite average. Besides it seems your potential is wasted in your current position, Iâd like to offer you a position as my righthand, secretary-general if you will.â He looked at you with a smug smile, making big hand gestures as he spoke.
You shook your head slowly, scoffing: âNo thanks, I like where Iâm at.â
âWell if not a promotion then I think a raise would be in order, how much do you wish for?â, he questioned, extending his hands over to you.
âYou really donât get it, do you?â His face contorts in confusion. âI donât need your money, Iâm not some babysitter.â
âCome on now y/n, itâs not that big of a deal, let me give you a token of my appreciationâ, he purrs, pulling out a check book.
âToken of appreciation my fucking ass, if you cared about your son as much as you care about your money I wouldnât even be here in the first place. Do you think I enjoy wiping the fucking tears off of his face when heâs once again crying because he thinks you donât love him?â, you yelled, standing up and pointing a finger in his face.
âI-I didnât know..â
âOf course you donât! How can when you never spend more than five minutes with him! How can you know what your son needs when youâre never even around to hear him out!â, you screamed tears starting to well up in your eyes. âHe doesnât want a pony or a fucking pool, he wants a dad that will sit down and play with him. He- he wants someone to love himâ, you spoke in a hushed voice, on the verge of breaking down into sobs yourself.
Maxwell had done the same exact thing to you all these years ago. It was such a cruel trick of fate to be hired by his company, which you didnât found out until a couple weeks in he was the owner of. Youâd been too stubborn to leave, vowing to yourself that you were an adult and totally over your past romances.
âIâm sorry⌠I didnât mean to disappoint you againâ, he whispered, too ashamed with himself to even look you in the eyes.
The first sob left your throat, making him look up. âThis isnât about me Max⌠Your boy needs you.â
âI fucked up, I never stopped thinking about you, I couldnât. If you could please just⌠help me. I-Iâll do anything, please, I just want Alistair to be proud.. and happyâ, he pleaded, slowly stepping closer to you.
âI can only help you if youâll let meâ, you mutter against the skin of his neck as he embraces you.
âCan you even forgive me for what I did to you?â, he inquired, voice shaking with emotion.
âYeah, if I couldnât I wouldnât have missed you so muchâ, you admitted, slowly letting go of him to look into his red eyes. âTake the week off to catch up with Alistair, the secretary-general will take over for now.â
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Sky Full Of Stars - CH09
Sequel to Something Just Like This
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: Heâs Dean Winchester, ex mobster boss, still a little cocky, less ruthless and not at all short tempered anymore. Instead, he thinks heâs hilarious (she doesnât agree, though). They both try to live a quiet life. And Dean hopes, very hard, that his former life wonât come knocking at their door.
Warnings: Whole lotta angst, NSFW
WC:Â 2574
SERIES MASTERLIST
Dean doesnât think he has gotten any sleep at all last night.Â
After what happened, he immediately called Gabe and Cas, Y/N was listening in, too. Sheâs still mad at him, he knows that, but she is willing to not give him hell because her number one priority is protecting her family, which, Dean thinks, is the same thing as he wants either.
They talked on the phone for a while but then decided that theyâd rather meet in person today.Â
He wakes up with something on top of him, opening up his eyes, Dean sees Ella straddling him, âWake up, Daddy!âÂ
Dean smirks and closes his eyes again which prompts Ella to jump up and down on him like heâs a damn horse, and then she starts to poke her finger into his face. First his cheek, then on his lips, his nostrils and then his eyes.
âIâm up, Iâm up!â Dean shouts, âI surrender!â
Ella bursts out in a fit of laughter.
After a while, Ella lays herself on top of him, whispers into his ears, âMommy is sad, sheâs crying.âÂ
Dean knows that Y/Nâs still in bed with them, knows that she cried herself to sleep, if she even slept at all.Â
âI know, El-baby, why donât you go get dressed and play in your room, leave me some time with mommy, huh? Iâll come and get you,â
âOkay,âÂ
What Dean loves about his little girl is that she understands things. Especially when he talks calmly to her. Certainly not a trait she got from him.Â
He waits until Ella walks out, little footsteps tapping along the floor, waits until she closes the door.
Dean turns around, sees that Y/N faces the other way. Sheâs laying on her side, he hears her breathing evenly. He moves closer to her, lifts up her blanket and covers himself with it, his arm sneaks around her middle. She doesnât protest so Dean moves even closer, pressed his chest to her back, melts his body against hers as he noses at the back of her neck, breathes in her scent. She smells like home.
âI got this,â He whispers, placing a kiss on the nape of her neck.Â
She only sniffs.Â
Still crying, then.
âBaby,â Deanâs grip tightens around her, and he rolls them around on the bed, itâs still so easy to manhandle her.Â
He rolls them until sheâs on top of him and a tear drips down, right onto his cheeks. He rolls some more, places her next to him so he can look her in the eye as he brushes at her tears with the pad of his thumb.Â
Dean hates how much it hurts him. How he absolutely hates whenever she cries and heâs the reason for it. Even though, right now he might not be the real reason but heâs a part of it.
âEverything will be okay,â He says, doesnât really know if heâs saying the truth but he hopes he is. âWeâll find a way,â
She nods at him, her eyes are red and puffy from crying.Â
âFuck, I hate to see you like this,â He mutters, leans in, kisses her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. He kisses her lips after, itâs warm and soft, a little wet too, âI need you to stay positive okay? Can you do that for me?âÂ
âI donât know,â She pushes the words past her lips and they feel like daggers to his heart.
âI wonât let anything bad happen to you or our family, I promise.â Dean kisses between her eyebrows, the place where he wanted to kiss last night. He leaves his lips there, pulls her closer.Â
  Y/Nâs pacing around the room, sheâd put Neo to bed for his nap and Ellaâs watching Frozen on the ipad upstairs so they have a little privacy. Privacy to talk about the impending doom without getting interrupted. Casâ here and Gabe came around with a couple of his best men.Â
She doesnât like the way they all look at her. Doesnât need their pity, it makes her feel even worse.
Dean shows the men the message she got from Crowley.
âI want you to up your security all around my property.â Dean tells Gabe and the other man nods, âI want all eyes on Y/N and the kids.â
âI donât understand,â Cas says, âCrowley barely has anyone left whoâs loyal to him. How did he manage to pull that off?â
âI donât know,â Dean says, and he has his hands balled to fists. Heâs angry, she knows.Â
And god knows she is, too.
She paces around, thinks about the bloody situation sheâs in, while the men are talking. They go on about a plan, try to come up with something, she doesnât really listen.Â
Suddenly, she speaks, âGuys, hear me out,â
Deanâs looking at her as if heâs seen a ghost, and already heâs frowning. Mainly because he knows for a fact that anything that comes out of her mouth wonât be any good, âBaby, no.â
âYes!â She shouts, âYes, Dean, because itâs the only way and you know it as much as I do.â
He sighs in defeat and the others just stare at them, âFine, go on. Iâm listening.â
âCrowley clearly wants me,â She starts to say.
âNo!â Dean shouts now, too. Louder, and it makes her flinch. âI said what I said, Y/N. No.â
âYou didnât even let me finish!â She throws her hand around her.Â
âI donât need to hear it because I know exactly what you want to say and no, Iâm not fucking giving you up, alright? Youâre not going to be any kind of bait!â
âWhy not? He clearly has beef with me, not with you guys. If thatâs what I need to do to save my family, Iâll do it.âÂ
She wants to, is sure as hell that the only way to stop Crowley from harming her family is to give herself up. Sheâs about ready to do anything as long as Dean and her children will get to be safe and live their lives to the fullest. They donât deserve this. Nobody does. And itâs really not a big price to pay. That way she can right all the wrongs sheâs done.
âJesus fucking Christ,â Dean lets out, rubs over his face with both of his hands, âI canât believe Iâm listening to his fucking bullshit!âÂ
Y/N sits down in an empty chair, wraps her arms around herself and she tires, tries not to fucking cry because mainly she doesnât want to come across as weak, and secondly, thereâs simply no tears left that she can shed. She feels empty, feels fucking numb.
And Dean knows that too, knows that sheâs close to tears and she hates that he knows her better than she knows herself. He comes to stand before her, lowers himself onto his knees and cradles her face between his big hands.Â
He kisses her, soft, tender, and whispers to her, âBaby, I canât let you do that.â
âWhy?â She mumbles but doesnât look at him, her gaze is still trained downwards.
Dean sighs, kisses her forehead one more, âDo you really think thatâll stop him? Do you think when he gets you where he wants, that heâll stop? Heâll go after us all, one by one.â
She looks at Cas and Gabe and they both nod in unison.
Gah, she hates that. Hates that Dean always has to be right.Â
Y/N excuses herself to go upstairs. Thereâs nothing she can say anymore that will get approval from the five men anyway.
She sits on her bed, looks out the window into the meadow. Itâs a windy day, there are clouds in the sky. Sheâs sure the stars wonât come out tonight.Â
Taking her phone from her pocket, she types in a message.
Y/N: What do you want?
 It baffles her that the answer comes right away.
 C: Darling, youâre not dumb. You know what I want.
Y/N: And if you donât get it?
C: Iâll take everything you love.
 Thereâs tears pooling in her eyes. Apparently the well of tears hasnât dried down yet.
 Y/N: And if you get what you want?
C: Iâll leave them alone.
Y/N: How do I know that youâre not shitting me?
C: Iâm not a liar. Never was, never will be, unlike some people.
Y/N: How do you want to get to me?
C: I have many ways but I rather not tell. Itâs best if you come meet me.
 Her hands are shaking but she types on her phone anyway.
 Y/N: When? Where?
C: Wait for my instructions.
Y/N: Okay
C: Tell Ella Fergie misses her
Y/N: Fuck you
 She deletes the conversation one by one, only leaving the picture message standing as not to raise suspicion should Dean take a look. Then she pushes herself out of the bed, undresses herself and walks into the bathroom, draws herself a bath. She thinks of drowning her sorrows in alcohol but knows that it wouldnât help. She needs a clear head to face her children. They deserve that much.
  Dean walks along the landing when he sees Ella disappearing into their bedroom. He opens the door and hears a shower running. It smells like bath salts too. Y/N is now probably showering herself off.Â
Ellaâs standing in the middle of the room with her ipad. âMommy?â
âHey baby girl, what do you need from mommy, huh?â Dean kneels down in front of Ella.
âFrozen is finished. Can I watch another one, daddy?â
Dean chuckles, âNo El-baby, I donât think I can allow that,â
He can see the little girl pouting. Damn that fucking pout. Thatâs certainly something sheâs got from her mother. âBut you know what?â
âWhat?â He sees Ella frown at him, curious but not quite trusting if itâs going to be better than another movie on an ipad.
âWhat would you say if you go out with uncle Sammy and auntie Jess for Mc Donaldâs and ice cream, huh?â
âYaaaay!â The girl jumps up and down and Dean smiles.
Itâs so easy to cheer a kid up. Theyâre so innocent and he likes to protect that. Likes to keep them away from all the bad things for as long as he can.Â
âThen go on down, theyâre already waiting down there with your brother.â
âDoes he have to come too?âÂ
âElla, weâve been through this,â Dean lowers his voice a little.
âOkay, fine. But Iâm not talking to him.â She says and Dean has to chuckle. He kisses her forehead and sends her away.
Dean gets up on his feet, walks over to the bed and sits on it, waits for Y/N to come out of the shower.Â
He stares at his feet, listens to the running water and thinks about what just happened. Thinks about all the things that are fucked up. Five years ago, up until two days ago, his world seemed good, great even. He had everything. And now one fucking leprechaun is threatening to destroy everything he knows and love. Dean canât let that happen. Not on his fucking watch.
When he comes back to his senses he looks at the watch on the bedside table. Sheâs been in there awfully long already so Dean gets up, walks to the bathroom to see whatâs taking her so long.Â
The sight that greets him damn near breaks his heart.
Y/Nâs on the shower floor, hugging her legs, crying quietly into her knees.Â
Dean doesnât hesitate, goes right in fully clothed, pulls her up and into his chest, âBaby,â His voice sounds broken, âFuck,âÂ
Her body goes rigid and she pushes him away, making him stagger a couple of steps back. Dean watches her, heâs near tears himself.Â
He tries again, pushing himself against her, grabs her by her arms and pulls her in. Sheâs hitting his chest, hands balled into fists as she drums against it.Â
Sheâs sobbing, cries and shouts, âWhy donât you let me do this? Fuck you, Dean. Fuck you!â
Deanâs crying, he doesnât know what to do so he does the only thing he knows that will take the pain away, at least for a short time. He knows that he fucking needs to feel it, needs to feel a sense of normality for a short moment, and he knows that she needs it too. So he lifts her up and crowds her against the shower wall, kisses her deep and hard, pours all his feeling into the kiss, says things without speaking, I wonât fucking let you go, and a warning, Donât fucking dare leave me.Â
Y/N still cries against the kiss but she kisses him back, equally hard and deep, her tongue restless inside of his mouth, drinking in his sorrows, his fears, spills hers into him.Â
âFuck me,â She whispers, holding him around his neck tighter, and Deanâs soaked his shirt and pants, even his socks, he doesnât care, âMake it go away, Dean. Fuck me, please,âÂ
âOkay,â He whispers back, âOkay,â
He pins her harder against the wall, one hand still holding her up while he fumbles blindly at his belt. He kisses her again, gives her no time to think about anything else, tries to fill her head with want and need and not with Crowley and sorrow, until he can free his cock.Â
Dean peels and pushes the fabrics down his body one handed, manages to lower them past his cock and balls and he strokes himself before pushing the head of his dick against her entrance. He lowers her a little while he fucks up into her at the same time, is still kissing her when he feels the warmth of her walls hugging his cock tight. She moans into the kiss but she doesnât stop either, kisses him more and more while Dean moves his hips up, fucks into her slow and steady.Â
Breaking the kiss, Dean leaves his forehead on hers, kisses her eyes when she closes them, her nose, her lips, ââM sorry,â He says between thrusts, ââM sorry for not telling you sooner.â
She doesnât say anything, buries her face into the crook of his neck and sucks at his throat.
He fucks up, a little faster, a little harder, getting himself deeper as she likes it and lowers his face to her neck, âPromise me, baby,â He says between pants, âPromise me you wonât do anything stupid,â Dean thrusts three more times and feels her coming on his cock, heâs so close himself, âPromise me you wonât leave me, that you wonât leave us.â Dean comes, sinks his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder.
He dries her off later, carries her into the bed, helps her into her clothes before he peels his own wet ones from his body.Â
Thereâs a knock at the door and Dean watches as Y/N lifts herself off the bed, dashing down the stairs to open up. He hears Ellaâs happy squeals when she sees her mommy, hears Neoâs babble and imagines Y/N taking him into her arms.Â
Dean takes his time, changes into dry sweats and a shirt and then he remembers that Y/N didnât promise him anything in the showers. He hopes deeply that the kids can change her mind.
CH10
#sky full of stars#dean winchester#dean winchester fic#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fan fic#dean winchester fan fiction#dean winchester angst#dean winchester x you#nathalie writes
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The thing you donât realise when you look at Newt is that he was born a girl. Or - no, thatâs not right. He was born a boy, and even when he didnât realise it he felt uncomfortable and out of place every time he was reminded what people saw him as.
Maybe, he thought as a teenager, hair down his back and makeup lining his eyes, maybe Iâm just not trying hard enough. Maybe, he thought, looking at the other girls, thereâs something wrong. Or maybe thereâs nothing wrong. Itâs normal for girls to be uncomfortable in their skin, isnât it? Thatâs why makeup exists, why you grow your hair so long the weight of it gives you headaches, why you define yourself by the way other people see you and not by the way you see yourself.
But that was then. He was born a boy in a girlâs body, and when he was fifteen, kneeling in front of the bed so Leta could make a lopsided mess of his hair with the too-blunt scissors from her pencil case, throwing out the revealing clothes heâd tried so hard to feel feminine in and curling up laughing in a baggy hoody that disguised his chest, he became a boy in a boyâs body, and it was good.
It was good. A womb does not define a person. Heâs lucky; with his hair short and his binder on, he looks like the boy he knows he is, and for him, thatâs enough. He never went for surgery. He didnât need it. This is not a story about struggling to accept yourself or to be accepted because Newt called himself a boy and he was one, and when Graves learnt that his body was a different shape underneath his clothes he didnât run screaming for the hills because really, who does that? The sort of relationship that matters to is not the sort the storyâs about.
Itâs about the sort of relationship that started at university. First day, first term, Newt met Graves on the stairs and Graves offered to help him with the oversized suitcase he was hauling to his room. Weâve gone for a modern AU. No magic. Theyâre the same age, or nearly; Graves is a few months older. Newt studies science because heâs good at biology but he wants to be a writer, Graves studies history because you shape the future by learning from the past, they live two doors down from each other in first year and in second and third they share a house with three other people and Newt spends more time in Gravesâ room than his own, and in fourth year Newt stays on because he changed to zoology half way through and is a year behind and Graves goes out to the world and gets a job and itâs hard to be apart but when they see each other they make a big deal of it and itâs good.
This is a fix it. Itâs not fixing canon. Newt is the way he is because a womb does not define a person. Itâs a fix it.
They live together again when Newt graduates. A flat above a shop in the centre of town. Not a flat, a maisonette. They have an old cat, one that goes out the window over the kitchen sink and scampers along the rooftops, a sofa made squishy with too many cushions, and an entire cupboard in the kitchen dedicated to an overflowing variety of tea. Gravesâ coffee lives on the side. They stay in the flat for less than a year, then they travel; thatâs on Newt, who came home one day and said, âIâm going to quit my job and go to South America, do you want to come?â
Maybe it was drastic. Maybe it wasnât. He doesnât do well in offices. Graves blinks, and phones his mum, and tells his work, and they offer him a promotion if heâll stay because fuck it, heâs actually really good at what he does. He chooses Newt. Itâs that kind of love story. You have to understand, Graves chooses Newt, all Newtâs failings and all the stupid ways Newt doesnât fit together and doesnât understand how people work and the way he changed degree half way through because he has the sticking power of a greased teaspoon and the only thing heâs ever stuck with this long is Graves, and Graves chose him.
I donât know what needs fixing. I donât understand. I love Graves. Newt loves Graves. Why does anything have to need fixing.
The cat went to live with Newtâs parents. She enjoys the garden, and Newt fusses about the fact that she needs the expensive tooth crunchies because sheâs an old cat. Old cats still need love, they just also need someone to care for their teeth, and when the flat is packed up and moved into Newtâs parentsâ loft the box of cat things is left at the bottom of the stairs to take over the rest of the house. As it should be. Newt and Graves travel, and they argue, and in Mendoza Newt throws his hands in the air and says fine, if thatâs the way you want to be - and when he storms off, Graves comes after him.
âYou muppet,â he says, catching Newtâs hand in his. âYouâre going the wrong way.â
Even when they argue, Graves is stupidly sweet. It would be easier if he wasnât. The problem with things that are nearly perfect is you canât back away. Youâre in too deep to ever give up, and when they come back, they get married. They choose a house with a spare bedroom that could be turned into a nursery. They make a fuss of their old lady at Newtâs parentsâ house and decide it would be kinder to leave her where she is. Part of loving a cat is knowing when it would be selfish to uproot their life again just because you want them close, and Newtâs parentsâ house is full of sunspots that she likes to sleep in.
In their new house, they have fish. Many fish. Newt names them all, even when they breed, and it breaks his heart to take some of them back to the fish shop because theyâve bred too much and he doesnât have the space to house them all, but he does. Gerbils, two gerbils, in a big glass tank with a wheel fixed to the back by plastic hooks stuck to the glass. They sit in Newtâs palm and eat bits of courgette, and they like trying to dig their way through his elbow when heâs wearing sleeves. Another cat, a little menace from a rescue shelter who has zero manners and zero regard for appropriate play, but who, slowly, cautiously, learns that Newt is for sleeping on and that Graves is for rubbing her head against and that she can meow to get what she wants instead of going straight for the kill with her teeth.
She isnât allowed in the gerbilâs room. She learns to open doors. When Newt and Graves thought theyâd have to install child locks at some point, this isnât quite what they had in mind.
âPapaâs little monkey,â Graves says, scritching at the base of her tail while she purrs. âSavaging Mummy, knocking everything off the shelves, what are we going to do with you, hey?â
âShe doesnât savage Mummy any more,â Newt protests. âSheâs getting better at claws-in.â Her favorite toy is a sheep-plush tied to a piece of garden twine; Newt dangles it for her and she does a somersault in its general direction and pounces. She only savages now when it rains and she has too much energy to be cooped up inside, and she sits on the windowsill and yowls as though Newt were being too slow in fixing the weather for her to go out and play.
Itâs family. Newt is Mummy. Graves is Papa. Itâs nothing to do with the fact that Newt has a womb. The house has an extra bedroom, itâs full of boxes at the moment with a random chair thrown in for fun, but itâs meant to be a nursery at some point, and hereâs the thing.
Before they got married, they talked about kids. Graves is a softie. He melts. He does the silly voices reading the story books, he picks them up and lets them ride on his shoulders to make them laugh. Cousins. Friendsâ kids. It doesnât matter. He was always going to be a dad, and Newt always wanted to be there with him, and that, like so many other things in this story, is good.
Newt canât remember how the conversation happened, but. At some point, it came up. Newt has a womb. There is no reason, biologically, that he couldnât have kids. He loves Graves. At some point, at some time, when it was a thing for the distant future, he said yes.
He said yes.
They tried to have sex that way. Newt couldnât. Not - no, he could, heâs just not trying hard enough. Maybe thereâs something wrong with him. Maybe thereâs nothing wrong. Heâs been through this fucking trial before and he accepted himself and this isnât a damn story about that.
He was on birth control. Side effects include loss of libido, among other things. He talked to a doctor, and he said, âItâs fine. Heâs fine. He knows I donât like sex, thatâs not the problem, Iâm not worried about our relationship. I just... want to give him kids one day.â
He went off birth control. He was recommended a self help book. He was prescribed anti depressents, anti depressents, heâs asexual not fucking depressed and the reasoning, apparently, is that it makes you calm so you donât panic while it happens and is he meant to fucking roofie himself for the sake of his damn fix-it?
He doesnât take the anti depressents. He tries reading the self help book and gives up in disgust. His periods come back, and with them the pain and the urge to cry and scream and hate the fact that he can wrap himself in his flag all he likes but flags donât solve problems like this and Graves doesnât push, Graves never pushes, Graves understands and brings him ice cream and sits through the most awkward conversations with as open an expression as Newt could ever have asked for and Graves is damn wonderful it isnât his fault that Newt has a womb and doesnât want to use it but how the fuck do you fix this mess -
And the place it goes wrong is that Newt says:Â âWhat do you think of adopting?â
And the place it goes wrong is that Graves says:Â âOh.â
Itâs not a good oh. Itâs an oh that says, I wanted your kid, not someone elseâs. Itâs an oh that says, Iâd really rather not. Itâs an oh that says, thereâs no pressure, take all the time you need, but at the end of the day adoption is not the solution you hoped it was.
Why not. Newt brought it up after the first time they failed to have sex, tentative, not pushing. Then he went to the doctor, got his implant taken out, went through all the tests and all the awkwardness until he could get referred to the hospital. The hospital. Thereâs nothing wrong with him. Being asexual is not a disease. Having a womb and not wanting to use it is not a medical issue that needs to be fixed.
Heâs had consultations. Heâs had an ultrasound and confirmed that all the tubes are tubing like tubes ought to do, thereâs nothing to stop him getting pregnant if he tried. Itâs almost a disappointment, that, and when he realises he was waiting for it to be a way out he brings it up again.
âGraves,â he says. âIf you want the baby to be yours, would you consider a surrogate?â
âOh,â Graves says. âI thought the hospital was going well?â
Going well. The tubes are tubing. Newt does not have a disease. Newt does not want to have sex. Or to be pregnant, or to give birth. âYou canât cure asexuality,â he tries to explain, but Graves knows that. âYouâre asking a lot of me,â he says next. Itâs been over a year since they married. Graves hasnât been to the doctor about this, Graves wouldnât be the one growing a baby inside him for nine months. âWe both want a family, and Iâve been trying really hard to give you one, but all the compromise is ending up on me and I donât want to go through with it.â
âBut if we adopt,â Graves says, âThen all the compromise goes on me.â
Hereâs the thing. Newt doesnât understand. I donât understand. A baby is a baby, what do you lose if it isnât genetically yours? The fish that were born in our tank get taken back to the petshop, the cat that was abandoned by someone else stays in our house and claws up our sofa, whatâs to stop you loving someone just because you didnât make them? You make them when you raise them, you love them because they need you, none of that changes if they donât share your DNA.
Graves canât explain. I donât know how to write him. I donât know how to fix this. I love him. How canât he see, how can he be the person I know so well and love so much and not see the months Iâve been going to the hospital, the compromises Iâve already made, how can Graves not appreciate that Newt having a womb doesnât mean he has to use it, how is this story meant to end?
âWill you talk to someone?â Newt asks. âSomeone who isnât me?â
âWhy?â
âBecause when you talk to me, I think there are things you donât say because you donât want to hurt me. Neither of us want to argue, and it means that weâre both being too careful, and I think that if you talked to someone else you wouldnât have that to hold you back. I think it would help.â
Graves is doubtful, I think, but he agrees. Heâs quiet for the rest of the day. At lunch, he takes himself up to the gerbilâs room that will one day be a nursery and drinks his coffee and Newt leaves him to it, and maybe heâs talking to them about it, who knows.
At lunch, Newt sits by the fishtank with his cup of tea. He opens his laptop. He writes, and he talks to fictional characters, and he starts a story he says is a fix it and ends with it in a jumbled mess.
You canât blame Graves. You canât be angry at him. You have to understand, heâs a good man. I love him. Just because he canât explain why itâs important doesnât mean itâs not important, just because it doesnât matter to me that the baby is genetically ours doesnât mean it shouldnât matter at all. Itâs not his fault Newt is the way he is.
Itâs not meant to be anyoneâs fault. Thereâs not meant to be anything wrong with it. Heâs always understood that before.
I donât know what to do.
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wanna be my baby - stucky
Read on AO3
~*~
Bucky is laughing and chattering, his eyes bright and happy while they walk through the city, and his nose is red.Â
Just the tip, bright red against his pale skin and dark hair and slate blue eyes. Itâs distracting andÂ
Steve catches his elbow, tugs Bucky into a little shop on the way to dinner. The shop is dark and luxurious--it reminds him of the little tailor that Tony dragged him to before their first charity outing.Â
Itâs rich and dark, leather coats and elegant suits, and--
âStevie?â Bucky asks, hesitantly and Steve hums, looking around until he sees the tasteful display of scarves and gloves, and he runs his fingers over one, tightly knit wool so soft it feels like silk.Â
Thereâs cashmere but heâs a traditionalist, and the blue wool will look nice, with the black. He taps the scarf and a pair of leather gloves, slim and lined with soft warm fleece. âThese, please,â he says, and the salesgirl hovering a step behind Bucky scurries to box up his purchases.Â
âCold, Steve?â Bucky asks, while they wait, and Steve smiles at him, waiting until theyâre outside again, the air cold and brisk and making Bucky shiver in his heavy coat, before he digs the soft blue scarf out and loops it around Buckyâs throat
Bucky goes still, letting him tuck the end into the loop, adjust the fit until he was happy with it and a flush was rising in Buckyâs pale cheeks.Â
âGloves too,â he murmurs, and Bucky tugs them on with careful fingers, while Steve watches, a rush of warm pleasure uncurling in his belly.Â
When Bucky spreads his now-gloved hands and blinks blue eyes--theyâve never been that blue--at him like heâs waiting for judgement, Steve smiles and nods.Â
âBetter,â he murmurs, and turns them back toward their dinner destination, while Bucky leans into his side, warm and comfortable.Â
~*~
The problem about life in a future he didnât ask for is that itâs strange and unfamiliar and more than that--itâs lonely. He has his team, but Natasha and Clint spend more time on missions than they do in country, Thor is off world, and Bruce hides in his lab.Â
Tony is friendly, theyâve worked through their initial issues, but there is only so much of his mania that Steve can stand before he needs an escape, needs the reality of the world they fight so hard to save, and he spends hours walking, aimlessly wandering the city and slipping into bookshops and bakeries and small shops that felt like stepping into the past, antiques and art supply stores and a upholstery store that smells just like his Maâs laundry.Â
Itâs how he finds Winterâs Brew.Â
Itâs how he finds Bucky.Â
~*~Â
He doesnât do it often--itâs only--
He has the money, a staggering wealth that makes him queasy sitting in his bank account, growing every month he stays on the rolls as an Avenger, a combination of backpay and a salary for being a super hero, neatly negotiated by Tonyâs team of lawyers and Pepper Pottsâ demanding smile, sugar and spice and everything heâd loved about Pegs.Â
So he has the money, what he never had in the forties, when he wanted so desperately to take care of his Ma.Â
And he doesnât need it, is the thing.Â
Because Tony houses the team, feeds and equips them, and he merely has to muse about wanting something before itâs arriving, compliments of JARVIS and Tony both.Â
Bucky though--
Bucky is brilliant and hungry, a grad student studying and working on his thesis during late night shifts at the coffee shop. He walks dogs in the morning for the wealthy business men and women who canât find the time for the animals they love and walks kids home in the afternoons to their drunk mothers and au pairs waiting with toddlers, and he hustles, works too hard for too little.
It makes sense, adds up to Steve, because he has this money he doesnât know what to do with, besides stuffing a hundred or three into cups of tired eyed vagrants and pouring money into charities that he likes.Â
And thatâs nice , it is, but--
But thereâs something very satisfying about the smile, sunshine bright and strangely shy, when Steve buys Bucky something.Â
Thereâs something sweetly calming about the sight of Bucky in something he bought, like the silk blue dress shirt is a claim.Â
It scratches an itch to be needed , when Bucky stumbles into the coffeeshop with a bag full of text books he paid for, when he curls up on Steveâs sofa with a laptop he bought.Â
And sometimes--sometimes when he buys things for Bucky, itâs not because Bucky needs it or because he can .Â
Itâs simply for the look, wide-eyed and pleased, a pretty flush in pale cheeks and wonder in slate blue eyes, that Bucky gives him in return.Â
~*~Â
Theyâre crammed into a small booth at a bar that Bruce insisted on, and Buckyâs a warm weight against his side, listing into Steve the more he drinks. Heâs comfortable around the Avengers at this point, has spent enough time on Steveâs couch with Tony Stark crashing in without warning that he doesnât even blink to see Clint and Natasha drop into the bar.Â
Bucky is drinking and happy and Steveâs team is around them, all of the people he likes best in the world and itâs perfect, even if Tonyâs gaze keeps flicking back and forth between Steve and Bucky and Natashâs watching them with sharp eyes despite the vodka shots.Â
When his watch beeps, Steve nudges Bucky. âTime to go--you said you had class in the morning.âÂ
âClass is stupid,â Bucky grumbles, and Steve laughs softly as he pats at his pockets, his motions growing choppy and desperate until he hisses a curse, and Steve tips his head down, toward Bucky. âWhatâs wrong?âÂ
âMy fucking--I donât have my wallet,â he says and his eyes are big and worried and Steve frowns.Â
âWhereâd you--âÂ
âI gave it to Peter when we were walking home, so he could get some ice cream,â Bucky says, and Steve plucks the phone heâs tapping frantically against the table, tapping in Buckyâs password before scrolling--
âPeter has it, Buck, youâre fine.âÂ
âBut--âÂ
Steve shushes him and slides two hundreds off his billfold, tossing them on the table before he stands and tugs Bucky after himÂ
âIâm gonna help him home,â he tells the team, all of them watching him, and Bucky, Bucky is watching him with those damn wide eyes. âYou canât get a cab without money, Buck,â he says reasonably, and tucks Buckyâs scarf into his coat. âCâmon.âÂ
He doesnât think about the way his team watches him walking away or the way that Bucky allows himself to be led.Â
~*~Â
He only meant to get a cup of coffee. He didnât mean to befriend Bucky, or maybe it was the other way, maybe Bucky befriend him, filling the afternoons and evenings in Winterâs Brew with quiet chatter, rambling about his classes and reading bits of whatever sci-fi he had found, or leaning over the counter to show Steve a particularly adorable picture of Alpine.Â
He slipped under the edges of Steveâs defences, until he was snug under the skin, nestled where Steve kept the people who mattered to him--the team and his Ma, Peggy and the Howlies--and it never bothered him, really, that Bucky fit there, so effortless and easy.Â
~*~Â
He gets the call while heâs on his way to the garage, and answers it with a grin. âBuck, you promised, you canât back out--âÂ
âIâm not,â Bucky says, âBut you need to stop and buy my hair goop.âÂ
His voice is pitched with panic and sharp with command it makes Steveâs spine snap straight, and heâs nodding, even as Bucky rambles on, âIâm sending the address, Alpine knocked it in the sink, Iâm not going anywhere without my hair done.âÂ
âDonât worry about it,â he says. âIâll be over with it soon.âÂ
âThanks, Steve,â Bucky breathes, and Steve shivers as a cool wind slices across the garage.Â
He gets the goop.Â
He gets some leave in conditioner and a mask and some bath salts too, because he thinks Buckyâd probably like it and heâs already here .Â
And the tiny smile Bucky gives him when he peeks in the bag--that tells him he was right, and sends a bolt of warmth through him thatâs stoked a little every time he catches scent of conditioner in Buckyâs hair that night.Â
~*~Â
Bucky is normal, is the thing.Â
He knows who Steve is, Steve never tried to hide it, but Bucky never seemed to care . He smiled at Steve , listened to Steve complain about mission reports and overpriced fruit and the weird taste of bananas, and he rambled to Steve about school and his sisterâs shitty boyfriend and the fact that there was a decent single guy left in the city.Â
Bucky is normal and it doesnât matter if heâs curled up on Steveâs couch in Avenger Tower, or if theyâre crashed in Buckyâs apartment fighting over the remote, itâs always easy, comfortable, being with Bucky.Â
And if he likes to bring new blankets for Buckyâs threadbare couch, and push a box with motorcycle boots across the table at him before they go upstate for a hike--if he likes to feed Bucky and buy him the little odds and ends that Bucky sees when theyâre wandering through the city, it doesnât mean anything.Â
Itâs only that Bucky smiles at him, pleased and happy and sometimes--not always, but sometimes-- his eyes go half-lidded and his smile goes sly when he says, all smoke and promise, âGonna have to let me pay you back for this sometime, Stevie.âÂ
And Steve aches.Â
~*~Â
Sometimes they get looks.Â
When Bucky smiles at him, sweet and hopeful and Steve nods, and buys a series of books or a set of DVDs.Â
When theyâre at the movies and Bucky is bouncing on his toes, trying to decide what candy he wants and Steve patiently says, âGet him one of each.âÂ
When theyâre at the Tower and Bucky says, âI love this blanket,â while he snuggles into Pepperâs favorite throw and Steve says, âJARVIS? One in blue, please?âÂ
They get looks, and Bucky sometimes flushes when he sees the way people watching them, and it bothers Steve, makes him scoot closer, wrap an arm around his broad shoulders and squeeze until that flush and guilty embarrassment fades away and Bucky melts like sugar into his side.Â
~*~Â
Theyâre out with Natasha when it happens.Â
Steveâs been shopping with her often enough that he doesnât even blink when she leads them into a high end lingerie store, just slides a glance at Bucky to make sure heâs ok.Â
Heâs got a look on his face, wide-eyed, mouth a little parted, a delicate flush rising in his cheeks.Â
âBuck,â Steve says, concerned but Buckyâs already drifting away from him, fingers running over a pair of lace panties.Â
Itâs unbearably erotic, pale fingers against midnight blue lace, and Steve swallows hard.Â
âItâs pretty,â Bucky breathes.Â
Steve swallows and says, not real sure where itâs coming from, âYou--you like this kinda stuff?âÂ
Bucky flushes, glances at him from under long dark lashes. âYeah. I--itâs expensive, so I donât got very much, just a teddy and a couple pair of panties for special occasions.âÂ
Steve stares at him, and then, so soft itâs barely a whisper, âShow me what you like.âÂ
Bucky blinks at him, big blue luminous and does as heâs told.Â
Later, when heâs home and the image of Buckyâs long pianist fingers brushing reverently over lace and silk and satin is burned into his eyes, he makes an order.Â
Two days later, Bucky sends him a picture, a broad chest wrapped in delicate silk the same deep blue as his stealth suit, a pair of boyshorts trimmed in white lace cupping a thick cock that makes his mouth water, and a simple thanks to caption it.Â
Itâs followed quickly by a text. Tell me how to say thanks properly?Â
If he closes his eyes later, strokes himself to the image of Bucky wearing white lace and miles of pale skin, and eyes wide with gratitude and devotion--well.Â
He keeps that thought and the spine-meltingly good orgasm to himself.Â
~*~Â
It doesnât mean anything.Â
Heâs still Bucky, and sometimes when Steve looks at him all he can think about is the little black lace panties heâs got on under those skin tight pants, but for the most part--heâs just Bucky. Beautiful and brilliant and everything Steve didnât realize he was missing.Â
And thatâs all Bucky wants from him--just Steve. The friend. The guy who shows up and listens and hangs out when Bucky needs to get outside his head and quizzes him before a test.Â
He doesnât want--doesnât need-- to be kept and cared for, heâs been taking care of his sisters since his dad died when he was sixteen, heâs completely capable of taking care of himself.Â
Theyâre friends.Â
Itâs only--sometimes he wants to take care of Bucky.Â
Sometimes, he wants more.
~*~Â
Heâs sitting in the workshop and flicking through a few tablets he thinks Buckyâd like. âAdd that, would you J? And send it over to him?âÂ
âOf course, Captain,â Jarvis says smoothly and he settles back into the couch, a book already open when Tonyâs curious gaze makes him pause. Thereâs a smile curling at the corner of Tonyâs lips, that too knowing gaze sharp and mischievous.Â
âWhat?â he asks, a little self-conscious.Â
âI never thought youâd be the one to get a sugar baby, is all. I mean--not gonna judge, Iâve had a few in my day, but--â
âWhat are you talking about?â Steve interrupts, his ears burning and his stomach twisting, and Tony stills.Â
âBucky bear. Heâs your sugar baby. Canât even blame you, Cap, the boyâs got a mouth made to fuck,â Tony laughs and Steve goes scarlet, flushed with rage and embarrassment, and something in Tonyâs gaze softens, just a little. âShit. J, would you--âÂ
The phone beeps in his hand, and he scrolls through the descriptions and definitions, the explanations and his fingers tremble, and he doesnât know if itâs from shock or hungry want.Â
~*~Â
It sits in his belly, a kernel of knowledge he doesnât know what to do with, doesnât really want, and it makes him anxious, makes him question when he goes to buy something, when he reaches for his card and Bucky smiles, all sweet and happy.Â
When Bucky bumps his shoulder and says, âGonna have to let me repay you sometime.âÂ
Itâs that--Buckyâs familiar throwaway comment one night after theyâre leaving a musical heâd been talking about for weeks, when Steve says, âYou donât have to, you know. Itâs--I donât know what Tony said, but itâs not like that.â He laughs, the sound rusted and awkward in his mouth, and Bucky is watching him, eyes big and curious and cautious. âItâs not like youâre my sugar baby.âÂ
Bucky blinks at him, and when he smiles, itâs smaller, somehow.Â
~*~Â
Bucky stops answering his calls and when Steve shows up at work, heâs brusque and distant, almost cold, and it doesnât make sense, it just--it burns in his chest, this place thatâs empty and aching where Bucky should be and he knows that if Bucky is done, if heâs tired of this friendship that doesnât give him nearly enough--heâs taking care of a seventy year old disaster, for fuckâs sake--thatâs fine, thatâs Buckyâs choice, thatâs something Steveâs gotta respect.Â
He does.Â
He just--
âI miss you, Buck,â he says, earnest and Bucky stares at him wrapped up in a soft scarf and heavy coat and Steve can remember buying both, and he loves that even as angry as Bucky is, heâs still dressing himself in Steveâs clothes.Â
âFine,â Bucky says. âWe can get lunch. But Iâm buying.âÂ
~*~Â
It goes like this--
Things get better.Â
But Bucky is prickly now, about Steve buying things for him, almost snapping when he reaches for the bill, when he sends over gifts, when he shows up with food and movies and coffee, and he doesnât understand because itâs nothing different, this is what theyâve always done.Â
It stings--a rejection he doesnât understand or like.Â
It comes to a head on a Saturday morning after Buckyâs semester ends, when he shows up at Bucky's apartment with bagels and coffee and a new handheld gaming system because Bucky worked hard, and he deserved it, even if heâd never get it for himself.Â
Bucky stiffens when he sees Steve, laden with breakfast and a shiny red bag dangling from one finger and he pulls back, all stiff faced and closed off and Steve is tired .Â
âWhy wonât you let me spoil you,â he snaps and Bucky recoils.Â
That isnât--
That wasnât what he meant to ask.Â
âBuck--â
âYou donât want me,â Bucky snarls, the momentary paralysis bleeding away and leaving fury in itâs wake. âYou said you donât want a sugar baby.Â
âI want you, â Steve shouts back.âI wanna take care fo you and spoil you and you wonât let me.âÂ
âWell, I wanna suck your cock and call you daddy, so I guess neither of us is getting what we want,â Bucky sasses back because heâs a brat and heâs beautiful and heâs everything Steve didnât know he wanted.Â
He drops the coffee and the bagels, the stupid little toy his baby will coo over later, and Bucky makes a startled noise as coffee spills across hardwood, and then Steve is kissing him, licking into his mouth while Bucky is clinging to him and whining, hot and sweet and sucking on his tongue.Â
Maybe, Steve thinks, before Bucky puts his hands on Steveâs shoulders and levers himself up , maybe they both get exactly what they want.Â
~*~Â
Bucky looks beautiful in the pretty panties Steve bought him, sprawled across his silky sheets Steve gave him.Â
He looks even better naked and sucking cock, and when he can think again, all he can say is, âTony was right--youâve got a mouth made to fuck, baby,âÂ
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The disappointing Gender
Pairing: Bestfriend!Ashton x Reader  Â
Warnings:Â shit ton of cursing, dont worry I love men, but women are just easier at times. Based on a real story, that shit really happened to me.Â
Summary:Â Some men are just straight up trash. And whatâs better than to vent about them to your willingly listening best friend Ashton.Â
My Masterlist đŚ
(Gif credits: @ghostofmashtonâ)
âI donât know exactly what goes through your mind when deciding to finally peel your limp body out of your comfy sheets, go through the usually long, self-esteem-damaging process of âgetting readyâ, find an outfit you would feel comfortable but not underdressed in and then leave for a party. Let me be honest, I mostly think: at least let it be worth all this. And then maybe something like; maybe Iâll meet someone. âSomeoneâ carefully and fully on purpose undefined because you donât want to get your hopes up and then be disappointed. But âsomeoneâ secretly being a guy, optionally a boyfriend even, but just maybe.
âHowever, now you are at that party, ready to meet new people and you take a look around. You see many people; some you think are pretty in your eyes some arenât. But thatâs okay, thatâs only natural. So then after a time, when you have met a few girls you get along with, you spot the âsomeoneâ. And your friends somehow knew about him and all that bullshit and tell you the teeniest bit of bloody information alright? And he, on top of that, seems to be interested, keep that in mind.â
I stopped for a second, taking a gulp of my water. The few ice cubes clicked softly against the glass when I placed it back down.
âAlright. Now, you chat with him, all friendly funny business, you develop a sort of insider joke. Itâs funny and you think wow, it isnât all that difficult to talk to boys, amazing. Eventually, you also had a few, and I donât want to say advantageously but it does help.â
A giggle fell from my bestfriends lips, but I decided to just keep going. âI will again be honest, I was a bitâŚinebriated if I may say so and if you would want to take me as an example. However, maybe you flirt for a while, and it really all goes well, so well that you wouldâve started to become suspicious, since it was you after all. Continuing, because youâre bloody sloshed, you donât suspect anything, even though if you wouldâve just listened closely you couldâve totally heard fate snigger.â
I earned an amused hum from Ashton for that, picking up my glass again. âFurther on, one of your new friends disappears with a guy and itâs okay for you but not for her friend whom you also are friends with now. That, because the other girl actually does have a guy eventually. But she isnât sure. So you go get her, and you sit down with the girls outside to have a chat. Because itâs important that she still has a good night and so on. During that amount of time, you selflessly neglect your guy. Not that he is your guy in reality, but you secretly might have planned on making him your guy.â After a big gulp I placed my glass back down again, the ice now almost completely molten.
âSuddenly, that bloke walks out, raising a single hand at you as an obvious goodbye. And you sit here, startled and a bit dumbfounded because what the fuck is he leaving already. Quick note; it was hardly midnight, the clock stroke twelve maybe two minutes ago. So you get up, approach him and ask, why in the love of Jesus effing Christ heâs leaving already. His response; well. He hasnât been blessed with the best of experience with women.â
And annoyed frown settled on my face. âI mean what kind of excuse is that? I havenât only met them good guys either, but do you see me acting like an antisocial scaredy-cat? Nope sir, because I am not that superficial, and you shouldnât be as well because I am not âwomenâ. Also, have I mentioned that my friends told me, that he was total slag, like a fuckboy freshly bred. Best experience with women my fucking ass. However, back to my example; you then are still a bit startled because he slips that he has been cheated on and all that godforsaken crap. And in your woozy, naturally kind-hearted state you are in, you do feel sorry and possibly even apologise for being so bold. Also, because you donât want him to think bad of you, he is very attractive after all and you have not given up your hopes just yet.â
A grin had now settled on Ashâs lips, as he leaned back with his drink, the attention still fully with me. âThen he says something like; but it was nice to meet you, and asks you to say your name again, and you do so. Naturally you do ask him the same thingâŚand you may have forgotten the name already.â I added with a frown, desperately trying to remember. âSomething with F and it sounded French or such. Donât know, not important anyways. Just like his existence.â
At that, Ashton laughed out loud, but wisely keeping quiet. âYeah you just laughâŚhowever, he then throws that horrid line; weâll see each other again yeah?
At you, and you might think cool. But how for the love of fuck, since you donât have anything except for a name. So the thing you do then is, you scrap all of yourâŚI donât know confidence from off the bottom of your rotten self and ask, if he wants to at least give you his snapchat.â Ash let out a whistle but I waved him off.
âIâm not done yet. So you ask. And he just ignores your question somehow, canât really remember how. The whole time heâs walking away from you backwards, I guess towards the busstation and you have to follow him like damn mongrelâŚhowever. You end up leaving it be and sprinting back to your friends telling them what happened. Because they âknowâ him, they know his Instagram, so you decide to follow him. But he is on private so you got to send a request. Done with a few clicks, in approximately ten seconds. So now he is gone, you feel disappointment bubbling up, because fuck.â
Ash nodded slowly, looking up at me since I got up impatiently from his couch. âSounds fun?â he said in a more or less questioning manner and I shot him a dark look.
âBuzz off twat, the best partâs only coming.â Ash rose an eyebrow, leaning back expectantly again. âNext morning you go and check your Instagram, somehow curious if he accepted your request and what do you see? He fucking declined it! This bloody wanker skipped my music, stole my attention and wasted my fucking time, four hours of it!â Ashton broke out in a fit of laughter, nearly spilling his drink.
âComedy at its finest, certificated gold. Platinum even. Oh Jesus Christ. And that all has obviously not happened to you, you just purposely told it like it did right?â I huffed annoyed, dropping down again. âNever, as if stuff like this would ever happen to me. I mean, I totally understand mankind, itâs just that you canât fucking use any of them.â Ash giggled, a dopey grin on his face.
âCome again?â I rolled my eyes. âI said, that you canât fucking use any of you gentlemen. Men are so disappointing, like get a grip on yourselves honestly.â Ash grinned, nudging me with his foot. âHavenât you just said that he should stop being superficial because of one woman?â he teased and I gave him an angry glare.
âCheating and just generally being international disappointments is something else. I slowly start to believe that you guys are just born with that twat-gene. Itâs almost not your fault. Itâs probably the Y-chromosome, would explain why women arenât like you guys.â Ash shot me an amused grin.
âI donât know if I would surprise you saying that the explanation why men and women arenât the same accurately is rooted in our genes. To be specific, itâs even a matter of just those two chromosome, the X-chromosome and the Y-chromosomeâŚâ I groaned annoyed, aiming a pillow at his head. I missed, but the message was clear.
âSmart-alecky dimwit, get off my back. I need emotional support, because member belonging to your sex has wasted my time and, in addition to that, ruined your allâs reputation.â Ash just hummed amused.
âIs that so.â I nodded, pouting bolshie. âThen I suggest, you listen to Ariana Grandeâs Thank u Next and some BeyoncĂŠ, maybe also Rihanna. Theyâll support your idea of men being trash immediately I am sure.â I flipped him off immediately, even though he had brought up a good point.
âI am kidding sweetheart. I know men can be idiots, but so can you females.â I couldnât help but throw him a derisive look âYes, males and females can be difficult at times.â I mocked him and he just shot me a lopsided grin. âNow you get off my back, annoying brat. But you are over him?â I shrugged.
âI mean, I was never actively involved with him, so I guess?â he nodded softly. âVenting felt good?â I nodded quickly. âAlways does. Thanks bud.â He smiled warmly at me. âEverything for my best friend. Mind if I quickly call KaitlinâŚâ as he saw my face he immediately rolled his eyes. âOh your little girlfriend huh? Young Irwinâs a little whipped?â giving me the finger he got up and grabbed his phone. âShut up. Iâm right back you bitter prick.â
I laughed sitting up again. âI am not bitter, I am happy for you Ash. Furthermore, I donât have any problems with taken people or relationships. The problems I have, start when selfish and inconsiderate assholes rub in the fact that they have someone, and start gushing about them. When I, as an admittedly slowly bitter, but independent single person, couldnât give a shit or two.â Ash grinned at me, shaking his head slightly. âI love you, you madwoman. Also, I am sure youâll find your guy and we can do all those disgustingly cute things best friends do when they both are in relationships.â
I scrunched my nose. âLike what? Double-dates? In this case, Iâd rather stay single Irwin, and now get lost you need to call your babygirl or whatever. Our ice cream is melting and our friends-day is not over yet. So you better hurry your red-dyed, slicked back visage up.â I responded harshly but with a loving lilt to it.
âOn my way, woman. Love you, donât eat my ice cream.â I just huffed, waving him off quickly. âLove you too, you ashy bitch.â I then almost choked on my water when I saw his expression at my words. He grinned and shook his head, pressing his phone against his ear. Â
#ashton irwin#ashton 5 seconds of summer#5sos#5sos fic#ashton 5sos#five seconds of summer#ashton irwin x you#bestfriend ashton#based off true events#imagines#5sos imgaines#ashton irwin x reader#reader insert#luke hemmings#calum 5sos#calum hood#not my gif#michael 5sos#luke hemmings imagines#michael clifford x reader
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I saw your pic of Winona and Helena and I was wondering if you could do a short ficlet of maybe young Joyce discussing her fling/friendzone/love with Hop with her older sister cause hell she's desperate about it
Like the sister could ask her out, give advice, tease her about it, they could talk about each other's experiences or Joyce could even ask her for advice cause she's afraid to fuck things up if it gets physical
I'm not a writer so I'm leaving all my ideas here, I'd love if you wrote this but don't worry if you're too busy or sth
Dear Anon -- I donât normally take many fic requests because Iâm such a slow writer, but this one just sprouted fully formed from my brain the moment I read your ask! It still took me a few days to get after since life got busy for me. It also turned out to be about 1400+ words so Iâve pasted below under the cut. Iâll be uploading it to Ao3 soon too when I get a chance :) Iâd be happy to dedicate it to you if you feel comfortable dm-ing me your username on Ao3. Thank you for sending it along!
"Hey, you! What's wrong?"
Joyce nearly jumped out of her skin at the disembodied voice that called out from the empty bedroom -- or at least, the bedroom she thought was empty. She turned on a dime, clutching for her heart. Joyce mightâve been sixteen going on seventeen, but she was far too young for a heart attack.
"Jesus!" She gasped at the familiar figure sitting at the edge of the bed. "I didn't know you were home."
"Ma didn't tell you I was coming home for Thanksgiving?" Stella stopped unpacking the small duffle at her feet and raised an eyebrow at her sister.
Joyce sighed and leaned against the doorframe.
"Ma's not even here! She went to Chicago this morning with her new beau."
"Color me surprised," Stella deadpanned, throwing the pair of socks down on the bed in disgust. "Which one? Tom?"
Joyce shook her head.
"Randy. Tom was married."
Stella rolled her eyes and reached for another handful of clothes.
"Of course he was," she snapped. "How does she keep falling for that same old line?"
Joyce only shrugged and toed the door jamb, waiting for her sister to invite her into her room.
They hadn't seen much of each other since Stella ran off at sixteen to live with her boyfriend in Philadelphia, almost two years previous, and as the months and then the years passed by, Joyce felt more and more distant from the sister she grew up with. It was beginning to feel like eons had passed since they would spend all their days together, playing dolls and dress-up in that exact bedroom, performing plays for the neighborhood kids in the backyard or riding their bikes downtown to go try on perfume and makeup at the five and dime.
Joyce was still a little miffed at Stella for running off and leaving her behind with their mother and not taking Joyce with her when she left. It didn't seem fair that she had to stay when she was the baby -- the baby with the most responsibility -- the one who ended up making sure Ma didn't go completely off the rails, dependent on the bottle again or running off with a third husband. The resentment Joyce still carried always made her forget just how much she missed having her big sister around and how much she still needed her.
Stella looked up from her duffle bag and saw Joyce standing there, looking at her with big, red-rimmed eyes.
"Sorry Ma skipped town. I'm glad you're home," Joyce said, meaning it.
Stella's frown melted, and she dropped the clothes in a heap, patting the bed beside her.
"I am too. Now tell me what's wrong."
Joyce sighed deeply.
"Nothing. It's stupid."
"Boys?" Stella asked with a knowing grin.
Joyce sighed again, and her eyes fluttered up to the ceiling, embarrassed at the degree of stupidity she was feeling that very moment. She willed herself not to cry over him.
Stella pushed Joyce's bangs out of her eyes and off her cheeks, where they stuck to pale skin, and gave her little sister a look. But instead of imbibing confidence, it just made Joyce want to cry more.
She made a face and sucked in a breath before letting it all out.
"Karen and I saw Hop behind the bleachers with one of the cheerleaders today at lunch."
Stella's eyebrows shot up.
"Oh. Which cheerleader?"
"Chrissy Carpenter. That bottle blonde bubble-headed... bimbo!"
Joyce glared out the window and across the street at the edge of Hopper's front lawn, the only piece of his house she could see from that angle.
Stella choked back a giggle when she noticed how intensely Joyce was staring.
"Woah. That's some serious alliteration."
"Yeah, well," Joyce grumbled and shrugged. "I'm upset."
Stella went back to emptying out the rest of her bag, but not before throwing her sister a loving look.
"I can see that. But I thought you and Jimmy were just friends?" Â
"We are!" Joyce finally dragged her eyes off his house and pouted at Stella before trailing off. "It's just thatâŚ"
"Oh come on," Stella said and ruffled Joyce's bangs. "You know you can tell me!"
There was another eye roll from Joyce.
"I just thought that something had changed between us this year. Maybe... Oh, I don't know anymore."
Then she clammed up.
Stella walked over to the window, took out a pack of Slims, and lit one up before opening the window a crack.
"Know what? Spit it out, sis!"
Joyce couldn't look at her older, prettier, more elegant sister, sitting there smoking at the windowsill like some french model who could have any man she wanted -- wrapped around her little finger. Joyce wished she could only look so mod and in charge.
Instead, she felt pathetic for pining after the boy across the street.
"Well," she started, flopping back on the bed, finding it easier to confess without having to worry about seeing the look of judgment cross Stella's face. "He'd been acting weird since we went camping this last summer. Then I realized by the second week of September that he was over here almost every night. At first, he said he needed help with his schoolwork because he really wanted to graduate, and since we're in all the same classes, it made sense, right? But by October, he was coming over for the dumbest reasons, and then I started to think he was gonna ask me to the homecoming dance. Like, I was so sure he was gonna do it. A few times, actually. But it was like he chickened out or something."
Stella held up a hand to pause Joyce there, even though Joyce couldn't see it.
"Waitaminute. Didn't you say on our last phone call that Lonnie Byers asked you out that night?"
"Yep, and what a date that was." Joyce rolled her head to the side and looked at her sister with a scowl.
Stella smirked, tapping the end of the cigarette out over the eaves.
"I warned you about him."
"Yeah yeah, I know: 'Lonnie Byers is scum.' But I'm pretty sure we're talking about Hop here?"
"Pardonne Moi! Please... continue."
"So, he seemed a bit distant after homecoming, but he'd still come over to study sometimes, and I'd catch him staring at me. It almost looked like he wanted to kiss me or something. And one day during gym, he told me I looked pretty when I knew for a fact I was a sweaty, frizzy mess. I guess it got in my head because I started to think, well maybe I want him to kiss me. And maybe I like him too? I was gonna tell him this weekend. I had it all planned out. But then he runs off and swaps spit with Chrissy, and now here I am, crying over a dumb boy. Stupid, stupid me."
Stella put the last bit of the cigarette out and moved back to the bed, pushing Joyce's legs out of the way.
"Not stupid," she said. "Just young and in love."
Joyce sat up on her elbows, nose turned up in protest.
"Gross. I am not!"
"You are." Stella chuckled.
Joyce frowned as she slowly realized her sister was right and succumbed to her lovesick fate.
"I am, aren't I?"
"'Fraid so, my dear."
"Cripes -- this sucks!â
"Oh, don't worry." Stella smiled. "I know just the thing to fix a broken heart! Ma might not be around but we can still have fun. Whatâs say we stay up late, paint our nails, eat our way through an entire tub of ice cream and I can give you some pointers for when you find yourself a real man. You'll be over that silly Hopper boy in no time."
"But what if I don't want to be over him?" Joyce whined, feeling sick for even thinking it let alone admitting it out loud. He was her best friend, since before they could walk, and those feelings had remained strictly platonic but lately, she couldn't imagine being without him, let alone sharing him with anyone else. Especially bottle blonde bubble-headed bimbos.
Stella held her hand out to Joyce and helped her sit up.
"Trust me, sis. It's for the best. Boys like Jim and Lonnie will ruin you for life. You belong with someone sweet and kind, who won't rush you before you're readyâŚ"
Joyce scoffed.
"Boys like that don't exist!"
"Sure, they do!" Stella nodded. Then she had an idea. "Say -- isn't there a Sadie Hawkins soon?"
"Yeah, the Snowball," Joyce said, cluing in, trying not to look too excited. "You think I should ask Hop?"
"No!" Stella sighed. "I'm saying you should ask a nice boy to go with you."
"A what?"
"Think of the nicest, and well... letâs say the nerdiest guy in your class, and ask him to the Snowball. Not Lonnie or Hop! No more bad boys who play ping-pong with your heart."
"No, no way!" Joyce shook her head and dove headfirst into the pillows. "I am not asking Bob the Brain!"
Stella threw her hands up in the air.
"Fine, be miserable and alone forever then. See if I care!"
"Fine!" Joyce shouted, muffled by the pillows before dissolving into a fit of giggles as her sister beat her over the head with another frilly embroidered pillow.
"I'm glad you're home," Joyce said when she caught her breath.
"Me too, sis," Stella said. "Me too."
#anon#asks#fanfiction#jopper#joyce byers#jim hopper#teen!jopper#highschool jopper#winona ryder#helena bonham carter
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đŹđŞđŞđŹđľđťđšđ°đŞ | đˇđąđ´
CĘá´á´á´á´Ę á´ĘĘá´á´: ÉŞá´á´ á´Ęá´á´á´
CĘá´á´á´á´Ę á´á´Ąá´
Trust.
It's a big word.
You know what else is big? Your husband's dick.
But that doesn't mean you'd trust him, right?
Of course not.
But you do. You trust your husband. Not because he has a big dick or something, but because you love him too much. You were in too deep, which meant you'd do anything to gain back his trust.
Be it running errands for him, or just simply staying away from your step brother, jungkook.
-
You were naked in bed when the first rays of sunshine hit your face. You squinted your eyes to adjust to the dim brightness of the room.
There, peacefully sleeping beside you was the light of your life. Your husband.
You could almost chuckle at how soft his features looked in his sleep. Nobody would ever believe the positions he tried on you last night, if they saw him snoring like a baby.
You were still sore from last night's activities. Your lower abdomen throbbed with pain and you tried to soothe it with your warm fingers. But to no use.
You dragged yourself to the bathroom and brushed your teeth. You felt like throwing up.
Could it be..? No.
You put a hand over your mouth as the strange thought crossed your mind. Jimin didn't get you pregnant, did he?
So you decided to take a pregnancy test, while you tried to remember if you guys used protection last night. Well, jimin was busy finding something in the left drawer.
The results were negative.
You sighed, placing a hand over your heart. You felt stupid for thinking he'd do something like that. When you got out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your body, your husband was awake.
His eyes roamed around till he found your frame leaning against the bathroom door. He smirked, his eyes visibly darkening by the second.
"Yeobo.." You sucked in a breath as his raspy voice echoed in the bedroom.
You clenched your thighs together as you could feel the liquid warmth beginning to build between your legs.
Just his gaze on you was enough for sweat to pour out on your tanned skin, even with the AC on full blast.
"Jimin.."
You surprised yourself with the tone of your voice, which sounded desperate even to your own ears.
"You're getting late for work."
He sighed, considering the fact that you were right. He got up and put on his night shirt, meanwhile you took out his work clothes for him.
-
The sky was slowly fading into a mush of dim colours.
You took a kitten lick of your vanilla cone ice cream, that threatened to melt away in your warm hands.
You were feeling extra lively today, like the weather had infused a new buzz into you, a new life.
You sighed. The pregnancy test. Now of course you were glad you weren't pregnant yet. You were too young for that. And were still trying to pursue a career in fashion.
But something about having jimin's kids made your insides clench warmly. The possibility of you carrying his baby one day made your heart soar.
You didn't realize your ice cream had disappeared until someone patted on your shoulder.
You turned around.
"Seems like someone's in a great mood today."
"Kook.."
He grinned.
You looked down at his feet.
"My ice cream. Fuck."
You bent down to somehow fix his ice-cream-damaged-shoes with the small tissue paper in your hand.
"Yes, baby girl. Fuck."
You caught his wide smirk and rolled your eyes to the back of your head. You got up and kicked him in the shin.
"Ow! Y'know it hurts noona."
"Uh huh?"
You cooed at the cute frown on his face.
"And you haven't been picking up my calls lately. What's the matter?"
"You were disturbing me at work."
"So can we get a coffee maybe? It's been long since we hung out."
"Y'know what? I'd rather not. I.."
You looked guiltily at his face for a while.
"I have other plans."
"Oh, is Mr Park taking you out somewhere?" He smirked while elbowing you.
"Y-yeah. And stop calling him that."
"Can I at least drop you home?"
His provocative pout was back.
You rolled your eyes.
"Fine."
-
You entered your home carefully, tiptoeing while looking around.
"Phew." You heaved a sigh of relief. He wasn't home.
You sat on the couch with a glass of water, that felt chilled against your tongue, giving you goose bumps.
"Shit. I need warm water." You whined, beginning to get up.
"May I get it for you?"
You stilled.
Then turned around in haste.
Jimin was smiling at you with that classic crooked smile of his, charming as ever.
You thought you'd lost your tongue with the way he was gazing at you.
Seducer.
"S-sure." You managed to get your tongue to use.
You watched his back as he disappeared in the kitchen. He was still wearing the maroon shirt you picked out for him this morning.
"Here you go."
He returned. With the glass of water as he promised.
And a glass of wine for himself.
"My eyes are up here, sweetie."
Your cheeks reddened as you removed your eyes from his shirt. It fit him perfectly.
"I know."
You took a long sip of the warm water, emptying the contents of the glass into your parched mouth.
"So.." Jimin started, swinging the wine in his hand.
"I heard you met jungkook today."
#jimin husband#jimin fanfic#jimin smut#jimin angst#jimin x reader#jimin au#husband#jimin imagines#hot jimin#bts jimin#bts fic#bts angst#bts smut#eccentric jimin fanfic
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So this is gonna be a few stories, sorry in advance if this turns out to be a longer post! (Especially since I canât figure out how to add a Read More thingâŚ)
Tw for yelling and a couple customers getting a little aggressive.
I work in the Cost-mo food court. People can order at the counter, or if they have a card, they can order at the kiosk and their order prints at the counter for us to make, then call their number. They also get a number if they order a whole pizza. Not if they order at the counter. I have so many customers who donât hear their number being called, then get upset at us over it, or customers that walk away when Iâm working at the register and I say âWait here a moment while I get your food.â They also get upset when I donât call their ânumberâ which they usually end up thinking is the store number printed on the recieptâŚ
Usually when I call someoneâs number, I start out quiet in case they actually stayed nearby, then I get louder and louder until Iâm practically screaming, then I think âfuck thisâ and put it in the warmer. One lady comes up and is instantly pissed off saying âExcuse me! I was told my pizza would take twenty minutes, I want to know what is happening in your kitchen that would cause this kind of delay!â So I ask her what her number is, she shows me, and I grab her pizza out of her warmer and say, âOh! It looks like your number was called already, sorry about that wait! :)â Then this lady rips the pizza out of my hands and yells, âYou should have called louder!â Like yes⌠I could have if I wanted to destroy my lungs. Have a shit day.
One thing that really bugs me is that we have an extremely short menu. Thereâs legit like 10 items on there. Please have your order ready when you get to the register, something Iâm sure a lot of food service workers can agree with.
I had one guy order a strawberry sundae. Theyâre big for their price, like everything in my food court, and also weighted so weâre not losing money or something if we put way too much ice cream in. Thereâs also a pretty good amount of strawberries on there.
He takes his sundae and I tell him to have a great day thinking thatâs the end of it. He comes back later with his ice cream mostly gone and melted, and cuts in line. I tell him Iâd be with him in a minute and address the couple standing behind him. The girl just waved her hand and said I could deal with him first so I nod and ask what I can do for him.
He asks for more strawberries. I canât do that because he took the item already and ate most of it. Iâm pretty sure thatâs a health code violation or contamination or something to modify food that a customer has already taken out. I tell him that I canât do that and he says, âWell obviously Iâll pay for them, just charge me for extra strawberries!â
So I tell him I canât do that because there is no way for me to charge for just the strawberries, I have a few buttons on my register and theyâre all for full items. I tell him the only way I can give him more strawberries is for him to order another sundae. Even after explaining reasons why I canât give him more strawberries on his already eaten sundae, he keeps arguing. Saying âI donât want another sundae, I just want the strawberries! I told you, Iâd pay for them!â
It just went back and forth, me trying to stay calm and keep my customer service smile on my face which is looking more like a grimace at this point, and him saying the same thing over and over until he finally got it through his dumb head that he wasnât gonna get more strawberries. So he screams âFine!!! Just fucking throw it away!â and slams his melted ice cream down. Luckily it didnât make too much of a mess. So I just say âOkay, have a nice day!â and throw it away while he stomps off.
The couple behind him were angels and complained about him with me while I got their food.
Final story. Superbowl is the busiest day of the year for us and our pizza wait times can get to almost two hours because of it. Our average wait time is 10-15 minutes. We had people order so many hot dogs that we couldnât keep up on keeping cooked ones ready, our lines were curled around the wall and we had people screaming at us about their pizza orders. We make sure people know the wait time before we ring them up and the pizzas were coming out on time. We were pulling them out of the ovens as fast as we physically could and even had some managers from the other departments helping us.
but of course Mister Crusty comes in. You guessed it, a crusty old white man. He immediately starts screaming at my coworker, who is one of the sweetest ladies youâd meet. Sheâs not taking his shit though. She keeps her head level and deals with him as nicely as possible. Heâs freaking out because âIâve lived here for 12 years!!! How come your pizza times havenât improved? Every superbowl is the same, itâs always a huge crowd out here and no one is ever organized Iâm waiting hours for my one pizza! Whereâs your manager?â
We had several with us right now, take your damn pick. So one of our managers goes up and tries to explain âSir, weâre doing orders in the order theyâre placed. Iâm sorry about the wait, but you were told what time your pizza would be ready and our cashiers make sure youâre okay with this before ringing you up.â That of course wasnât good enough for Mister Crusty. He continues screaming about the injustice and wants his pizza right then and there. The manager checks where his order is and says âThere are still five more pizzas ahead of yours. Itâll be a few more minutes.â and isnât budging.
Finally, just to make him go away, they had to take up one of our two registers to give him a damn refund and we had to give him his pizza for free. Like wow, do you do this every year? Our pizza wait times donât improve because we can only fit so much in our oven and if you want a pizza to be cooked right you will fucking wait.
Tl;dr One lady rips her pizza out of my hands when she doesnât hear her order number and blames me for her waiting after I called her several times.
One dude freaks out that I canât give him some extra strawberries.
One guy got a free pizza for being a big ol crusty bastard on the busiest day of the year for us.
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What about #1 with induck? :3
I decided to make this part of three of âoh no I called the hero and I like himâ and âwhereâs the hero when I need a hug.â But you can also read it as a stand alone.
1: How to make a plot villainous enough to attract they attention but tame enough they wonât get hurtÂ
Indrid stares at the screens, flipping between images and notes, dismissing them one after another.Â
The scheme needs to hit just the right balance.Â
Itâs been a month and a half since The Green Knight, alias Duck Newton, snuck into his hideout to comfort him after his body and mind betrayed him by making him sad.
Theyâve spoken not a word about it to each other. And Duck has once again reverted to only fighting Indrid with another member of the Pine Guard present. Duck kissed his forehead when he left that night, Indrid would bet his entire fortune on it. But Duck wonât even banter with him during battles.Â
Heâll barely even look at him.
Does he revile Indrid so greatly that any affection between them must be made up for by a double measure of disinterest and mild disgust?
Indrid has thrown everything he can think of at him; if Duck sees him as a villain, then he will be a villain. He will fight, he will scheme, he will swear revenge. No matter how often he thinks of the way Duck fit against him, a puzzle piece in strange picture of this life. How his fingers itch to call him each night.
Even as he runs through his inner monologue he knows he's oversimplifying the matter.
You see, itâs not strictly true Duck hasnât spoken to him. There have been no face to face talks or phone calls, that is a fact. But if one were to look at Indridâs personal phone, one would find a text chain that is mainly images. Birds, trees, sunsets, a cat.Â
The most he gets for context is:
Thought you might like this
Made me think of you. Donât know why.
And, on the ones of moths
Look, itâs a cousin.Â
And an even more recent one of an ice cream cone
Tried that Gelato place you liked. Youâre right, itâs fucking baller.
Indrid replied blue moon, excellent choice.
He did not add that the flavor is mellow, sweet, and a bit strange, just like the man himself.Â
Heâd considered orchestrating a run-in at that shop, since Aubrey Littleâs Instagram suggests Duck has been going there often with his friends. But Indrid has no doubt Mrs. Nyguen would ban him if he started a fight in her shop.Â
Instead, heâs narrowed down his plot options to two: an art heist, or breaking into the mayorâs mansion.Â
He has had his eye on that one GauguinâŚ.
------------------------------
Indrid limbers up in the entryway of the museum. Between his powers and technological abilities, the main security was easy to disable. And there is a route to the post-impressionist gallery that will keep him clear of the more heavily secured rooms.
He pads across the tiles to the entrance of the traveling Monet exhibit.Â
And sticks his foot into the path of the motion sensor he knows is there, setting off an alarm.Â
He continues forward, setting off more alarms as he goes. Its when heâs in the modernist exhibit that the wisps of unease floating through his system coalesce into a form.
No security guards have appeared. He planned to disarm them and knock them out, and they should be here by now.
A glimpse at the futures gives him just enough time to turn and see a shape stepping into the arched doorway behind him.
âI was wondering if youâd turn up.â A clipped, cold voice muses as the figure produces a small remote, clicking it once to shut off the alarms. He recognizes the reflective white glasses when the figure grins at him.Â
âThe Flame. I, it canât be, how did I-â
âNot see me coming? I donât know, little brother. But at a guess itâs because youâve lost your touch. Which would be of little concern to me, had your carelessness not just alerted our enemies to our presence here. So I will be need to be certain you cannot cause such issues in the future. Not to mention, one fewer villain in the city means one less person to stop me from taking total control of the underworld.â
Indrid narrowly avoids a blast of white light, diving into the annex to his right. He doesnât retaliate, activates his wings and shoots straight up through the skylight instead.
Heâs not ready to fight the Flame. Heâs never been ready. Not when they were children, training together. Not when they were sparring partners. Not when heâd finally had enough, when he saw just how much The Flame enjoyed hurting people.Â
Thatâs why he ran from him in the first place.Â
Landing on the roof, he considers his escape routes. Where is his nearest hideout, where is is his defensive equipment, where-
A small, clear orb hits the toe of his shoe. Even as he throws his arms around his eyes, he knows it wonât be enough. The light is blinding, bleaching his eyes as he crumples to the bricks beneath him. The next phase of the disorienter kicks in, high pitched tones drowning out his ability to hear anything, save for The Flameâs voice.
âYouâve become such a disappointment, little brother. First you abandon the life we trained for, your constitution too weak to handle the realities of our profession.â
âYou, you speak as though I havenât spent the last several years a prominent villain in my own right.â
âYouâve thrown in with some two-bit thieves and blackmailers, perhaps an eco-terrorist or an anarchist superhero when the mood struck. And youâre soft. The Indrid I knew would never hesitate to kill his rival by any means necessary. Youâve spared the Green Knight so many times I lost count.â
âYou spied on me.â
âOf course. I, unlike some people, know how to scope the hero/villain layout of a town before making my debut. Good god, brother, you must have used your powers to determine your enemyâs name and true identity by now.â
âWhat I do with my powers is no business of yours.â He kicks a leg out in the direction of The Flameâs voice. The fear flooding his mind, scanning the futures for escape, means he fails to see the weapon before it connects with his shoulders.Â
The scream of pain as electricity courses through him goes unheeded. The Flame does it a second time, and Indrid collapses, limp, on the ground.Â
âGoodbye, little brother. So nice of you to lend my grand entrance into the cityâs awareness an extra victim.â
Indrid loses consciousness to the sound of sparks.Â
---------------------------------------------
âNed, can you get us closer?â Aubrey yells from her position on the wing of the hovercraft, âI need to be more in a closer range to control something this big!â
âI will do my best, but if the wings begin melting I reserve the right to get us the hell out of here!â
âThere any way I can help, Lady Flame?â Duck leans over the passenger side of the craft, looking down at the blazing rooftop for the origin of the fire.Â
âGrab me if I lose my balance?â
âWill do--oh, fuck! Thereâs someone down there. Aubrey, can you clear me a patch, right there, so I can jump down?â
âI canâ the first half of the fire dies out when Aubrey makes a fist, âbut that roof canât be stable at this point.â
âIâll take my chances.â
Aubrey circles his arm twice, and a landing pad appears around the figure. He leaps from the craft, hits his mark right by the bodyâs feet. The smoke is still thick, even with Aubreyâs intervention, so he squints as he gathers the figure into his arms.Â
âDonât worry, weâre getting you out of here--ah! Oh come the fuck on!â He yells to no one in particular as the roof gives out beneath him.Â
Landing on his knees, heâs relieved to find the fire never made it inside , though smoke did. In the flickering orange and spinning red and blue from the nearby emergency vehicles, he shifts the body in his arms, looks down with clear eyes for the first time.Â
â.....Indrid?â
Nothing.
Indridâs chest is corpse-cold in spite of the fire when Duck puts his ear against it. Thereâs a heartbeat there, a faint flutter thatâs the most beautiful noise to ever grace his ears.Â
Duck turns to the portraits on the walls, âwhat the fuck do I do now?â
-----------------------
The first thought in Indridâs mind is: pine?
As he noses the soft pillowcase, still half-dreaming of coastal woods and a campfire, his eyes blink open.Â
The room is dark, unfamiliar. Thick curtains cover the windows, thicker blankets coat the bed in which heâs laying.Â
Cautiously, he pushes the covers aside and eases his feet onto the ground. His glasses are waiting for him on the bedside table, and his reflection in the closet mirror shows his thin frame covered in black sweatpants and a large shirt that reads âDevils Lake State Park.â
Hell has a sense of humor, it seems. A sense of humor and a very rustic decorating style.Â
He opens the bedroom door, poking his head out into the dark hallway. Moves slowly, half from the stiffness between his shoulder blades from where The Flame hit him, and half from apprehension of whatâs at the other end of the hall.Â
The answer turns out to be anticlimactic; a living room, with a kitchen off to one side.Â
Maybe the flames and sulfur are waiting for him outside the front door.
Or maybe heâs not dead, maybe someone rescued him.Â
No, that second option is ridiculous.Â
âMew?â
âAH!â He jumps as a black, scruffy cat bumps into his shin.Â
âH-hello there, little friend, do you happen to know where I am?â
âMew.â The cat hops onto the back of a nearby chair, and he pets it hesitantly.Â
âMy, youâre soft. Soft and familiar. Where have I seen you bef-, oh, oh my, it canât be. He wouldnât.â
The front door opens and Indrid grabs the cat protectively, spinning to face whatever comes through it.Â
âMornin.â
âIt, it is your house.â Indrid stares at Duck, the cat wiggling free of his hold and bounding over to greet her owner.
âUh, yeah.â Duck slips off his canvas sneakers, grocery bags slipping on his arms as he bends to pet the cat, âwhere else would it be?â
Indrid looks at the room around him more carefully; the poster for the Monongahela forest, photos on a shelf showing Duck with family and friends, the ranger had hung by the front door.Â
âIn retrospect, it was a tad obvious. But in my defense, I assumed I was dead and in hell.â
âGeez, my decoratin ainât that bad.â
âNono, Iâm sorry, I mean-â he stops when a grin cracks Duckâs face, and is managing a smile in return when his back spasms and he grips the chair to keep from falling.
âShit, you okay?â Duck sets the bags down and hurries over to him.Â
âYes. I, the weapon the Flame used, the side effects can be felt for over a week. It also scrambles the futures in my mind for several days, which tends to make me dizzy.â
âFuck, that sucks. Uh, I got some Tylenol and other medicine and shit while I was out, wasnât sure what youâd need, and, uh, donât usually have it in the house on account of bein super tough. You should probably eat before you take anythin though.â
âYes, good idea. I, uh, I donât want to impose, I, I can get something on my way home.â
âUhhhhhhhhhhh.â Duck scratches his arm, ashamed, âno, you canât. You ainât in any shape to travel, or to be on your own for longer than a few hours. I brought you here so I could look after you somewhere safe, where whoever hurt you couldnât find you.â
âThatâs very kind, Duck, but all the same I should go back to my hideout.â
âAlso youâre under house arrest.â
âExcuse me?!â Indrid leaps up, then immediately sits back down, dizzy.Â
âLook, when the police saw who I rescued, they kept clamorin for me to turn you over, or to send you to a hospital who would do the same as soon as you opened your eyes. I just...couldnât do it. So Ned talked âem into a deal. Youâd stay under house arrest with the Pine Guard, and weâd look after you while also makin sure you couldnât start nothin.â
âSo Iâm going to live here. With you.â Indrid tries to sound resigned instead of excited.
âYep. But, uh, if you need a break or change of scene, or we ainât gettin along, even though it sees like we been doin a better job of that lately, you can stay with someone else. Aubreyâs place has a real nice garden, and Mamaâs is real fortified and cozy-â
âDuck, I want to stay here. I am sure the others are lovely once you get to know them but, well, I trust you. I, you have seen me in vulnerable moments and did not harm me. You didnât even mock me. I feel safe with you. Also, your cat likes me.â He points to where said cat is now kneading his leg, purring happily.Â
âThat is a point in your favor. Here, Iâm gonna go put away groceries and get some pizza bagels heatin up. You just take it easy right here, okay?â
âI can manage that. But, before you do, please answer me one thing?â
âShoot.â
âWhy did you stop fighting me one on one?â
Duck sighs, sitting down so the cat is between them, âI wish I could say it was some strategy or because I wanted to be better at keepin the city safe. Real reason is, I was gettin fonder and fonder of you. I didnât know what Iâd do if we were alone, and not knowin scared the fuck out of me.â
âI see. Was it so alarming to feel affection for me?â
âWha-no, no, what I meant was that I was afraid I wouldnât want to hurt you but youâd still want to hurt me, or Iâd want to do things with you that you didnât want but felt like you couldnât stop me, or, just, any combo of things where conflictin feelins lead to trouble.âÂ
âOh.â
Duck stares at him for a moment, waiting for him to say more. But nothing comes. Indrid wants to confess, but he canât figure out what, exactly, the confession would be. The shorter manâs face falls for an instant, before he smiles again.Â
âGuess weâre roommates now.â
âRoommates. Yes.â Indrid wracks his brain for what he knows about how two people live in a space, something he has not done since he ran all those years ago.
When that fails, he draws on his nights in front of the T.V for clues.
âDo I need to label my food? Or hang a sock on the door?â
âWhat?â Duck giggles
âThose are roommate things!â
âYouâre right, youâre rightâ Duck holds up his hands in surrender, still giggling, âYou donât gotta label food, and no need to hang a sock if you need privacy; that room youâre in is the spare bedroom. Mineâs just across the hall. We can figure out chores and things as we go; might make you clean the bathrooms to make up for all the punchin.â
âThat is more than fair.â Indrid smiles.
âThere it is.â Duck murmurs.
Indrid cocks his head.
âThat smile. Youâre happy one, not your evil one. Makeâs you look so fuckin stunnin.â
He disappears into the kitchen before Indrid can decide on being flattered or flustered. Settles on both, rolls onto his back on the couch, pulling a large, plaid blanket down onto himself, fuzzes with the pillows to find a position that doesnât hurt.Â
The smell of processed cheese and cheap marinara fills the house as Duck walks in with something hidden behind his back.Â
âYou might need this while youâre nestin up on the couch.â
He produces the mothman pillow from Indridâs hide-out, which the villain grabs, wrapping his arms around it.
âKinda had to give away your hideout. Sorry. Theyâre gonna bring more of your stuff over later, but they let me put together a box of things you might need right away. Grabbed your toothbrush and such too.â
âThank you.â Indridâs replies, muffled against the pillow. âDuck, I, I donât know how, what am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to repay you?â
âYou donât got to. Yeah, thereâs some things you could do thatâd make both our lives a whole fuck of a lot easier. But Indrid?â He kneels down so theyâre face to face, cups the back of Indridâs head, and itâs tender and warm and Indrid presses into the gesture, desperate for more.Â
âLong and short of it is Iâm so fuckin glad youâre alive.âÂ
The chapped lips on his cheek canât be written off as a dream this time. Duck turns his face gently by his chin to kiss the other and Indrid whimpers.
The timer dings.
âThatâs lunch ready. Iâll go grab it, we gotta some calories into you, you been out for nearly whole fuckin day.â He stands, pauses, then reaches forward to trail a thumb on Indridâs left cheek and down to his lips.
âDonât you go anywhere.â
Indrid kisses the pad of the thumb before nipping it once, âNot a chance. You are stuck with me, Duck Newton.â
Duck grins, âThink I can handle thatâ
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Headcanons: Jim Mason as a dad (Jim Mason x fem!reader)Â
Word Count: 1.7k
Warnings: dad!Jim, pregnancy, drug mentions, mentions of smut, this is basically all fluff I couldnât be mean to sweet Jimmy
A/N: I am back with more dad! content and honestly I am thriving. Anything that gives Jim the happy ending he deserves is the move. As always, send me feedback and let me know what else you wanna see!
Jim is the one that first brings up having a baby
You ditched Palos Verdes as soon as you graduated and had enough money to get an apartment
He became a completely different person, a happier person
You guys lived pretty lowkey and just minded your business tbh
Medina occasionally dropped in for a night or two, but you were alone with each other most days
Jim didnât mind it being just the two of you, it was what he preferred actually
Youâd held him through so many bad nights, and he couldnât picture you not being with him for the rest of his life
Everything was peaceful, unlike how it was in PV with Jimâs parents and the Bay Boys
It didnât seem possible, but spending the past several years away from the chaos made you both fall even more in love with each other
Jim felt like he had missed out on being truly happy because of the drugs, so he was making up for lost time by simply enjoying the little things in life with you
Maybe youâve went to the beach so Jim could surf and you set up your towels next to a young family that had a small toddler with pudgy hands that looked like a spitting image of their parents
He sees how happy they are and how cute their baby is and thinks about how he could potentially have that with you one day
The little baby is so cheery and excited and Jim is obsessed
The baby runs up to you with one of their shovels and tries to scoop sand into your lap and you play along with them and help them build a sand castle
It makes Jimâs heart go SWOOSH
The way you effortlessly welcomed the baby into your care made Jim absolutely positive that you would be the best mom
When he finally builds up the nerve to talk to you about it heâs really straight forward
Tells you exactly what he wants and why
Your heart melts at his speech and you think about how far along Jim has come since overdosing on the beach so many years ago
He really wanted to be even more happy than he already was, and a baby would do that for him
It doesnât even take any convincing on his part whatsoever
Just the idea of a mini-Jim with blue eyes running around your house made you weak
Plus, who are you to deny Jim of something you know who make both of you so content?
Jim definitely cries when he finds out youâre finally pregnant
Dad mode is immediately kicked into full gear
He doesnât let you do hardly anything by yourself
You have to tell him to let you breathe sometimes, reminding him that youâre pregnant, not injured
He reads stories to your belly and always falls asleep in your lap at night
He wants to make sure that the baby knows his voice when theyâre born
You know for a FACT he buys a newborn sized denim jacket so they can match
I think his hipster ass would also buy those little baby onsies that have band names on them too
Buys every stuffed animal in the goddamn world
For the sake of giving Jim everything he deserves, Iâd say your pregnancy was relatively easy
No scares or problems really
It was Jim that endured the struggling
He thought there was no way that he would ever feel down knowing that he had a baby on the way
But he slowly grew sick to his stomach that he was going to fuck it up somehow
He was convinced that eventually heâd relapse, or his bottled up aggression would resurface
Heâd fuck up his kidâs life and yours with his own problems, ruining everything
Causing you to pack up and leave, and his happy ending would fall apart
It took a lot to talk him down, but you managed
That night, youâd held him as close as your giant bump would allow and rubbed circles on his back until he fell asleep with his head buried in your hair
I picture Jimâs first born being a son, one that looks just like him
Blue eyes and chocolate brown hair
 Is a super soft and gentle boy that loves being close to his mom and dad as much as possible
A son also acts as another step in Jimâs healing process to see himself in his little boy and do everything he can to make sure their life is perfect
We all know that Jim does not stop crying when he finally holds his baby for the first time
He whispers softly to them over and over that he promises that heâll never let them be exposed to the ugliness that he had been through
Jim is obsessed with everything that has to do with his baby
His sneezes? Adorable
His little toes? The cutest
His tiny butt? Â Donât even get him started
He loves taking care of him, but he really loves watching how the two of you bond
Little bubba laying on your chest while you both take a nap after a feeding? He canât stop staring
Those are his two favorite people in the world that heâd do absolutely anything for if they asked
Jim is literally his babyâs biggest cheerleader
They learn how to hold up their head or sit up on their own or hold their bottle? Heâs clapping and telling them, âGood job! Iâm so proud of you!â While aggressively giving him smooches on the face
He knows they have no idea what the fuck heâs saying, but it makes the baby smile so he does it anyway
Letâs just say, Jimâs baby grows up to be a chunker
Like...a fat ass little baby with leg rolls and arm rolls and the squishiest cheeks youâve ever seen
Jim loves to tickle their belly and do anything he possibly can to get them giggling uncontrollably
Squishy cheeks = slobbery baby that loves to put everything in his mouth
Jimâs nose, your cell phone, the corner of the coffee table, his fat little feet, the leash of Jimâs surfboard thatâs propped against the wall? Itâs free real estate for him to put it directly inside of his mouth
Since heâs so damn chubby, the little kid is like a portable space heater because of his rolls making him so warm
He also LOVES to cuddle with Jim
They are both Big Sleepy Boys so you can always find the two of them taking a nap together whenever theyâve gone missing in the house for a bit or their laughter had died down
His favorite spot is laying on Jimâs chest with you tucked under Jimâs arm so you can stick your hand out and he can wrap his tiny hand around your finger and conk tf out while you brush your thumb across his knuckles soothingly
Jim never wants to put him down, and you know heâs lowkey sad when his baby starts to walk and doesnât need him to carry him around everywhere
He starts calling you âmamaâ because he thinks it suits you and it always makes you blush
âCome here and let me love on you, mama.â
âYouâre such a good mama.â
He mutters it into your neck during sex when youâre both exhausted and taking your time and it just feels so good
Letâs not waste anymore time and say that Jim is counting down the days until he can take his bubba to the beach and let him see the ocean
Knowing babies, your son probably freaks out when the tide comes up around his feet
Does the thing where he kicks his feet up while Jim is holding his hands so he can stand without falling and immediately gets scared and throws a fit
His crying makes Jim freak the fuck out because he never even considered the fact that his child of all people would hate the water
You have to tell him that he probably just didnât like the cold and that heâd get used it eventually
And eventually that fat ass little baby does!!
He loooooves crawling around in the sand and trying to eat it
He also loves watching Jim surf
You point Jim out to him when heâs out catching a wave and clap his hands together with yours when he rides in on the shore and eventually
âLook at papa!! He did it!â
He keeps chanting, âPapa! Papa! Papa!â When Jim waves at you two from out in the water
Thereâs an old man that owns the ice cream shack on the beach where you guys have been going to ever since you moved there
He always told you guys that you two were the sweetest couple heâd ever seen on this beach
He also absolutely loses it whenever he sees you with your baby in tow
Heâs been watching you guys grow older together and now you have a baby and he is your number one fan
He always gives you a free popsicle for the baby and squeezes his cheeks whenever you guys visit the shack
He also really loves watching how happy the baby gets when he sees the sugary treat
By the end of the afternoon the three of you are sitting on your blanket relaxing and digesting your lunch
Jim is burying your babyâs legs in the sand and savoring his little squeals as he does so
Soon he starts rubbing his eyes and you know that means heâs tired
He stands up out from the sand and crawls into Jimâs lap and wraps his arms around Jimâs neck
Jim lays back and lets him take a lil nap on his chest since he was so exhausted from chasing seagulls and dogs all day
You pack up and have a peaceful drive home, all three of you are drained by now and too tired to say anything
Jim rests his hand on the inside of your thigh and rubs his leg with his thumb absentmindedly as your son is in the backseat snuggling with his favorite stuffed monkey Jim had bought him before he was born
Once you get home, the baby immediately goes back to sleep in his crib and you and Jim collapse into the bed after a quick rinse in the shower
He buries his head in your hair and gets comfortable with his arms around your waist
Mumbles something into your ear and you ask him to speak up
âThank you.â
âFor what?â
âEverything.â
For staying with him, for loving him when it seemed like no one else did, for leaving PV for him, for giving him the most precious boy in the world, for making him truly happy when he didnât think he ever could be
You give his arms a little squeeze, silently letting him know what he meant adn you both fall asleep peacefully
Imma tag the fellow dad!Jim thots I can think of and thatâs it alright have a good day
@langdonsoceaneyes @thedeviltohisangel
#Jim Mason#Jim Mason x Reader#Michael Langdon#Michael Langdon x Reader#Duncan Shepherd#Duncan Shepherd x Reader#ttopv#ahs#my writing#mine
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