#because once you shave one part of your head but not another

[boneless-mika]

A me version with my natural hair and eye color. It’s a shame there were no options I liked to hide the human ear

Here’s the link (I hope)

[munivrse]

cw: perv sunghoon, voyeurism (???), sunghoon watches you shower. cumming untouched (technically).

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sunghoon lounges on the couch, waiting for you to get ready so he can walk you to class today. he hears the shower turn on and silently cheers in his brain. this might be his second favorite time of the day.

he jumps off the couch and takes a stroll to the bathroom. you never lock the door, silly girl. he quietly turns the knob and cracks the door open just enough to see your pretty body through the frosted glass.

you're so fucking pretty. just thinking about you makes him hard, so for him to be able to see you? it makes him want to cream his pants right then and there but he has some sort of self control. he knows your routine by now, having peeked at you every day for the past month or so.

the first time was an accident. he opened the door without knocking and accidentally walked in. he apologized and you said it was fine and you both moved on but sunghoon... sunghoon needed to see it again. so, as anyone would, he made it a habit. he'd open the door slowly and see if you had any reaction. once he confirms you didn't hear, he'd just watch.

sometimes he'll fist his cock while he watches you. it gets him so hard, makes him so fucking dizzy at the thought of you catching him. he wants you to. he wants you to step out of the shower and catch him fucking his hand while he stares at you. sometimes he'd even blow his load on your clothes in hopes you'll ask him about it, but you never do.

usually you start with your hair routine. while it conditions, you start washing your body. you run your washcloth down your arms, on your neck, make your way to your tits- this part sunghoon zeroes in on. god he'd kill to suck on them. he imagines them bouncing as he fucks into you or maybe while you ride him. then you make your way down your stomach, stick the washcloth between your legs, then you move down your legs and-

you've discarded your washcloth? you've set it to the side. what's different about this shower? its not wash day for you, you wouldve prepped for that before your shower. you shaved yesterday and wouldve done so before starting to wash so what-

sunghoons jaw drops and his brain short circuits as he watches you reach your hand between your legs instead. his knees buckle as he sees your hand move in small, slow circles. you've never done this in the shower before. in fact, he's yet to see or hear you touch yourself but here you are- in the shower, soaken wet, trying to get yourself off in front of him.

he wills himself not to get hard. he can't. he cannot be distracted. fuck- where is his phone? he scurries into the livingroom to grab the device and quickly gets back to the bathroom. his hand shakes as he presses record. he makes sure not to watch it through the camera, he needs to see this with his own eyes first.

you've moved from slow circles to quick ones. he's a little surprised at this. surely you would take your time? perhaps you were being quick about it because you'd be walking with him to class. you've always been so considerate.

his tongue pokes out of his lip when your hand changes positions. he knows youve put a finger inside of you he just knows it. he can't make out any facial expressions but he sees your body tense a little bit- must be the stretch.

your other hand moves up your body and stops at your chest. your hand squeezes your tits together and then focuses on one, pulling your nipple and sunghoon swears he hears a moan out of you. the hand in your cunt moves faster and the hand on your tits comes to the glass door of the shower to hold yourself up and sunghoon can barely fucking breath.

you'd clearly done this before as your hands move with familiarity and ease- why did you do it in the shower this time?

sunghoon hears another, much louder moan from you and his head spins. he wonders if he wouldve been able to hear it from outside of the door or if the shower wouldve drowned it out. whatever the outcome, he thanks god that he's watching you right now.

he feels silly for being so starstruck but never in a million years did he think he would hit the jackpot like this. he sees your chest rise and fall quicker. oh god, you're about to cum. he's about to watch you fucking cum all over yourself in the shower and his head spins and his eyes unfocus as he realizes hes been subconsciously humping the doorframe this whole time.

and when you let out a soft whine followed by a couple whimpers, sniffles even, sunghoon feels himself shoot his load in his pants. his free hand grabs the doorframe to steady himself as he stumbles. he himself whimpers a little, caught off guard by his own orgasm. he's not even a little embarrassed, just happy he was able to witness this. he stops recording and quietly shuts the door.

he doesn't need to watch you finish your shower anymore. instead, he'll watch the video once more and empty his balls once again before changing his outfit.

if you ask, he'll say he spilled milk on his pants which, metaphorically, is not a lie.

[your-highnessmarvel]

Cantankerous

AN: So some of yall ( namely @jana-jaeynneee @delicateblues @blondegirlie )requested a part two to THIS and I mean, I must oblige the populace. So here's another brain rot of Billy Butcher.

This can be read as a sequel to THIS or as a oneshot either way. Y'all ready for some more madness?

WARNINGS: SMUT SMUT SMUT, breath play, kink size, age-gap if you squint.

MINORS DNI BELOW THE CUT

The safehouse was so quiet you could've heard a mouse walk the entire length of the kitchen. But no one was here. It was just you and the silence and the loudly walking mouse that was meandering across the makeshift living room. Oh and Butcher - Billy - whatever. But he was snoring like a cow in heat on the couch, the tiny TV droning and casting a greyish blue glow onto his sleeping features.

When you'd found him there, you'd almost padded back to your little corner and called it a night. But a growl in your tummy made you ache for something to nibble on. And now that the team was basically under government watch and the FBI's Most Wanted list, it's not like Frenchie was stocking the fridge with nutrient dense foods.

It was mostly bread, peanut butter, bananas or avocados (depending on which ones came on special first), and a few cold cuts he could swipe.

But this time, as you pulled the mini fridge open, you wanted to smack Frenchie on the shaved side of his idiot head. There was nothing but one darkening banana and a Doctor Pepper in there.

"Stupid," you mumbled, grasping onto the banana.

"You should have your head checked out, hun."

You rolled your eyes, groaning inwardly as you turned to the man sitting up on the couch like a revenant. He turned his head, snuggled his chin onto the back of the couch, and pouted at you.

"Why?" you asked, closing the fridge door with a bang.

He lifted one dark brow. "Because you're over there calling a 'fridgerator stupid."

You leaned back against the counter and crossed your ankles. "Who says I called the fridge stupid?"

He shrugged. "Who knows why you women do them things that you do." And just as you were about to tell him where he could shove his opinion, he sighed and asked, "Fancy a midnight nibble, yeah?"

You recoiled, swallowing your retort before showing him the banana from across the room. "There's only one thing left to eat before God knows when."

He made a face, more like a grimace, somewhere between pain and resolution. "Have it," he said, waving you away.

Ever since that night at the Seducer's mansion, it's like everything had changed for you while not the slightest thing had shifted for Butcher - Billy.

It's like he hadn't culled two orgasms from you.

It's like he hadn't told you those things that were absolutely not lies.

He'd barely talked to you since, waltzing into the next month as if you were just a decoration hung on the wall that you caught him looking at once in a while, but otherwise, he resorted to silence with you.

He never asked you anything. He never answered your questions. Even when it was just the two of you at the safehouse, like tonight, he'd knock out on the couch after a few beers and lull you to sleep with the sound of his snoring.

This was the first time in 4 weeks he'd spoken a direct word at you.

"I could split it," you said, gesturing to the banana.

He shook his head, raked a hand over the left side of his face. "Did I ever tell you my series of fun facts?" he asked, looking at the TV so all you could see was the back of his head.

You'd heard him have a shower an hour ago, cursing at the cold water and the lack of proper space for his abnormally large body.

Whenever the boys took a shower, in that cramped, open space beside the kitchen, you made it your mission to count how many cracks there were in the wall. Aside from the safehouse having no proper bathroom utilities, the "shower" had no curtain. It was just a shower head off the wall with a handle to open it.

So when you'd heard the shower head squeal to life an hour ago, you'd turned in your little cot and pretended that you weren't jealous of that water. Of the droplets running between his pecks, gliding down his tummy, running along the small hairs on his arms. Of the water that caressed the planes of his face, that rushed into his hair, that tumbled along the hard ridges of his back.

It had been insanely hard not to get lost in those thoughts. You were trying to forget Billy Butcher, to classify him as your leader instead of as the recipient of your antiquated school-girl crush. You knew Billy didn't think that way of you, you were certain. All those things that he told you while he'd been two knuckles deep in your cunt, even if they weren't lies, had to have been in the heat of the moment.

You thought better of Billy Butcher--higher. There was no way a man of his age, his experience, would be as cliché as to want to fuck his twenty-something coworker.

"Your series of fun facts?" you asked back, throwing those thoughts back into your head, in a drawer so deep, locked away, so forgotten you'd never risk finding it again.

He snorted. "Sounds nerdy, I know, you'll love it." He patted the side of the couch next to him, a dull invitation.

Truth is, even if you had tried to ignore him as well, a part of you had missed being close to him. He was a genuinely nice and funny human being, when he wasn't chopping arms off or punching people in the head.

Sometimes, when it was just the two of you - well, before the whole Seducer incident - he could be wholeheartedly nice to you. He'd made you a sandwich once when a pad fell out of your toiletries bag and he so eloquently yelled to everyone in the room that you were on the rag. He'd cut your hair--surprisingly well--when you had the remains of the mailman's brains gathered in chunks in your hair.

So that pat on the couch was like an old reminder of the relationship you'd had with him before...well before everything.

You padded towards him, bare feet on the cold cement. He looked at you over his shoulder, taking in the long pajama pants, the long t-shirt.

When you sat dow beside him, sinking into the couch, you took a glance at him. He was still dressed in his black jeans but he'd switched his open blouse for a long-sleeve black sweater that hugged onto his shoulders like a glove.

"They say," he started, smiling, raising a finger as if he was in deep thought. "That the same bacteria found in yogurt can be found in a blue whale's vagina."

You glazed your eyes. "I don't know why I expected anything less," you groaned.

He chuckled. "Get this, right," he continued, shuffling on the couch to get more comfortable. "Crocodiles mate by like twisting 'round each other, like some sort of licorice, and then the male uncovers his hidden penis like a gun and shoots up the female."

You leaned your head back onto the couch and groaned again. "Are these fun facts going to serve me in real life?"

He leaned forward, as if to tell you a juicy secret, his weight dipping the couch so your shoulder slid an inch closer to him. "Sometimes, male elephants use their giant dicks as a fifth leg."

That made you smile and burst into giggles. "Why would that be of any service to them at all?" you chuckled, raising your head to meet his eyes.

He shrugged, grimaced at you. "Maybe they can run faster," he offered.

"Doubt it."

"Oi, maybe they use it as a weapon of some sorts."

"What, like a sword?"

"Dunno, I'm not the one with a giant fifth leg."

You started laughing, a real laugh that tore at your gut and made you throw your head back. Of everything Butcher was, he was a walking comedian. Sure, it enclosed a multitude of unhealed trauma, but the things he could pull out of his magic hat could be the difference between a dreadful nightmare or a peaceful sleep. And that's always something you'd appreciated from him.

"I wanna ask you somethin', little Truthteller," he asked, suddenly somber, as if the lights in his head had dimmed all at once.

The little nickname, the pet name, drew the breath from your lungs and swiped the smile off your face, bringing you back the that box beneath the floor. The enclosed space where it was just you and him, and you and his breathing, his kisses, his caresses.

The grip you had on the banana tightened.

"First of all," he sighed, cocking his head to look at you. "Are you going to eat that fucking banana or keep teasing me?"

"Here!" you said, smiling, handing him the fruit. "I said take it if you're hungry."

He swiped it from you, grazing his fingers against your knuckles. "Thanks," he mumbled, peeling it and wolfing it down in three bites.

Well, you thought. There goes my midnight snack.

"Are you..." he trailed off, swallowing the last of his banana before dumping the peel on the coffee table. "Are you angry with me or something or the other?"

You frowned, taken aback. If anything, you'd thought he was mad at you for something or the other.

"Don't tell me you're that boomer who assumes every woman is mad at something," you grumbled, crossing your arms.

His eyes dipped to your chest for a fraction of a second, so quickly that you'd have missed it had you blinked. The action of crossing your arms had pushed your breasts together, making it obvious that you weren't wearing a bra.

Something dark and slow, like molasses, stirred in your belly.

"First thing's first, young lady, I'm not a boomer," he corrected, grabbing your wrist, "and secondly, please don't push up those pretty tits in my face unless you're willing to suffer the consequences," and he dropped your arm.

You gulped, feeling heat spread deep in your belly, across your chest, and into your head.

Your heartbeat picked up, like a tiny little drummer boy was kicking to life inside you.

He leaned back, dropping your wrist like nothing happened, and you hated him for it.

"I'm not angry," you answered decidedly. "I'm just... I just don't know how to behave around you."

He huffed, then turned to you and waved you over, making his chest appear like the most comfortable pillow.

You swallowed.

"Come on," he guffawed, gesturing to you again. "I want to tell you somethin' and I'm afraid that cunt Frenchie bugged up this dump."

You blinked, feeling the heat crawl up your cheeks like slow melting butter. But then you found yourself moving forward, crawling and closing the small space between the both of you until you were kneeling beside him.

He laughed silently, the dimples in his cheeks creasing. From up close, you could see the lines beside his eyes, the deep green of his irises, the way his black hair curled at the tip slightly.

He watched you watching him, following your gaze. You'd never seen each other this close before. The last time you'd been close enough to feel his breath on your cheeks, it had been pitch black.

"If you're refferin' to the last time we went on a mission alone," he said, his voice a few octaves lower, graver, raspier--as if he was straining against himself. "I'm not angry."

You nodded, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You felt his finger press under your chin, dragging your eyes back to his. They were kind, downturned as if he was concerned. "I didn't mean to force you into anythin'," he murmured, watching as you opened your mouth.

"You didn't," you answered quickly. "It was hurting so bad," you continued, pressing your hands together, held like a prayer against your thighs. "I think I would've died without you."

He smiled, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip, like he'd done under the floor.

"Come," he instructed, grabbing you by the biceps and hauling you over his lap, so your bum was pressed right on his crotch, your shoulder nuzzled against his chest. Even sitting, he was so much bigger and taller than you, that you felt like a tiny rock in his hand.

He was so warm, smelling of something woodsy, something smokey--a scent so unique to him it made the volley of butterflies in your tummy take flight across your chest.

He pressed a big, warm hand against one of your thighs and flattened your knees, his breath hitching over your head. Your heart hammered, a deep throb against your throat.

"Did you like it?" he asked slowly, pressing deep circles into the inside of your left thigh.

You pressed your lips together, feeling his other hand cradle you against his chest. "It was..." you swallowed thickly.

He pinched the sensitive skin that he was caressing, the ache swarming your head, even through the layer of your pajama pants. "Don't be embarrassed," he cooed, leaning his nose against your temple.

"Butcher, I-"

"Billy," he interrupted, grabbing your chin and lifting your head up to meet your gaze. You gasped, meeting his eyes with a sweet-sour feeling in your belly. "Love, it's always Billy for you." He looked at your mouth, trailing his finger down the column of your throat before lacing his fingers around your neck like a pretty little necklace.

"You look so tiny like this," he mumbled and you felt him then, hard and warm against your bum, before he leaned over and ravaged your mouth, kissing you like you were the imaginary oasis in a desert and he was a man parched dry.

He groaned against your mouth, grasping at your throat like a lifeline, pressing until air was taken from you and you keened against him, both of your hands reaching for his arm, digging into the chiseled skin.

"Billy," you said, breathless, your lips bruised from his kisses, his teeth nipping at your mouth like a predator.

"Yes, love?" he mumbled, out of his mind, his fingers closing around your neck like a noose until you choked against his mouth. He swallowed your sounds, groaning against you. "Can't breathe?" he mocked, loosening his fingers ever so slightly and giving you just a sliver of air to suck onto as you closed your eyes. The blood rushed out of your head and back into your body, pounding in your chest, sliding slowly down your tummy and settling into your cunt like a heavy, hard drum beat.

"Billy, I'm-"

He cut you off with a kiss, squeezing your neck, letting you choke against his mouth until he gave you a few licks of air. He enjoyed toying with you and you let him, sucking onto the air he gave you, kissing him, feeling as lightheaded as a balloon.

When your lips were red and swollen, your eyes glazed, and your breath hard and fast, he finally took his hands from your neck, kissing your cheeks and your eyelids. "You did so good f'me," he panted, lazily tracing circles on your neck, watching as you heaved in breath after breath.

Somewhere, you knew your panties were slick.

He kissed your temple. "Breathing when I allow you," he groaned, kissing your cheek. "And now look at ya, pretty head empty, eh?" You knew he was taunting you but all you could do was focus on your breathing, getting as much air in as to not pass out on his lap.

"I'm so...tired," you moaned, reaching up to kiss him, but he grabbed onto your face, dwarfing your head in his big hands, and smiled down at your sleepy little eyes.

"But I've got you right where I want you," he cooed, kissing your other cheek. "Get on your knees for me, yeah?" he whispered, and you would do anything for him in that moment, light-headed, dazed, panties wet, soaked as you fell to your knees before him.

You looked up at him from between his spread thighs. "God," he groaned, pressing his thumb to your fat bottom lip. "Look at you."

You swallowed hard when he unbuttoned his jeans, his eyes like magnets to your every movement. He took himself out of his pants, root and stem, groaning and leaning forward to caress your cheek, his eyes serious all of a sudden. "Take your time, little Truthteller, I want to see every second of this."

You looked up at him, brows upturned, nodding. As he leaned back, you got a good look at him; he was big, just like the rest of him, angry red tip leaking precum already.

Your empty little head just wanted to please him, like he'd done to you beneath the floorboards of the Seducer's mansion, but a nervousness kicked at your belly.

Hesitantly, you scooted closer, wrapping your hand around his length, the skin scorching hot, listening to him sigh and melt into the couch.

You leaned forward, giving his tip little kitten licks until you pressed the entire tip of him against your warm tongue, wrapping your lips around him.

"Fuck," he whispered, one hand gathering your hair, lifting it away from your face so he could see you. "I'm not going to last long, little Truthteller."

You wondered, somewhere where your mind wasn't so empty, if he'd been holding out for you, keeping himself from jerking off because he wanted to do it with you. If he'd been thinking of it for so long that just the warmth and wetness of your tongue was enough to rip him asunder.

You took him passed your lips, wetting him with your tongue, then bobbing back up to suckle on his tip until you'd wet him enough to start a slow rhythm.

He helped you speed things up to his desired rhythm by pulling and pushing slightly on your hair. You used one hand for the rest of him you couldn't take and the other on the inside of his jean-clad leg for support.

"God, you feel so fuckin' good, love," he slurred, his accent even thicker as you sucked him, wet him with your tongue, hollowing in your cheeks to treat him like your own little popsicle. "You can take a bit more love," he cooed, pulling on your hair, sliding himself out of your mouth with a wet pop.

You gasped, swallowing thickly, watching him watch you with hungry, deep eyes. At your slick red lips and your heaving chest and the way your eyes were still glazed over.

He leaned him, pressing a hard kiss to your mouth, his free hand caressing your warm cheek. "Yeah, a bit more?" he taunted, kissing and kissing and kissing you until you were drunk on his lips.

He leaned back and you leaned with him, taking him into your mouth again, feeling that sweet-sour wave wash in your belly when he groaned out your name.

You pressed him further in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut, bobbing him into your mouth further and further until your air supply was cut and you gagged on him slightly. Embarrassed, you slipped him out of your mouth, covering your lips as you breathed in much-needed air.

He smiled, leaned forward, and pressed a kiss on your cheek. "Too big for you, love?" he murmured, his voice laced with thick desire, watching your watery eyes widen. He was merciless. He was enjoying the taunt. He was enjoying the way you were so pliable to his demands. "Go slower, yeah, relax your throat." He mumbled those words against your cheek, inhaling you, before returning to his leaned-back position.

You swallowed determinedly, taking him into your mouth again, the hand in your hair squeezing as you started to bob your head again.

"Right there," he encouraged.

You did as he directed, slowly easing down on him, wetting him, sliding him against your tongue and relaxing your throat until the tip of his cock slid in there easily.

"Yes, right there, little Truthteller," he whispered.

Your eyes watered but you kept going, spurred by his praises until you had him almost all the way in your mouth. You kept sliding him in and out, as far as you could, feeling his tip slide down your throat further and further each time you slid your head back down.

"That's a good girl," he continued, breathless, voice lost. "Further, yeah, baby?" You knew he was spurred on by the moment so you tried, gulping him all down until your eyes blurred with tears and your throat spasmed around him. He squeezed your hair, groaning, holding you there until he was cumming inside your mouth, grunting, his hips spasming up, as if to fuck your mouth.

You slid him out slow, swallowing his release, breathing in deeply, wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

When you looked up, he was panting, head slanted back on the couch, chest heaving.

"Gods, little Truthteller," he groaned, leaning forward to wipe the tears from the corners of your eyes with his thumb. "You did so, so good for me, yeah?"

He kissed your numb lips, caressing your cheeks, pulling you back up on the couch. He tucked himself back into his jeans before bringing you close to him, snuggling your empty little dumb head against his chest.

You were cradled in his arms like a baby and when you looked up, you saw how sated he was, content and happy. He pet your hair, soothed the back of his knuckles on your cheek.

Then he smiled and leaned in, whispered in your ear, "Mine."

[malereadermaniac]

Toxic ~ Nate Jacobs x Male Reader

We all love a little toxic relationship with some dick who bullies you due to his own insecurity Top!Nate x Bottom!Reader word count: 1.6k Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

He bullied the shit out of you for being gay

Not regular bullying, but like psychological shit

Nate would make small comments about you to a crowd of people, making you uncomfortable for the rest of the night

Or when the two of you were left alone in a room he would call you a f@g when you try to make conversation

However late at night, your phone would be buzzing with notifications from him snapping you

But you were popular, so he couldn't harass you too much - especially once you became friends with Maddy

You were a regular at parties, so he'd see you there

Every time Nate got drunk, he'd catch his eyes on you more than he'd like

On your body, warm from the heat of everyone dancing and the alcohol in your system

It didn't help that like everyone else, you dressed like a model every time you left the house - but at parties that was tenfold

You wore virtually no clothes, pretty much forcing Nate's eyes to glue to your thighs, your waist, your ass as it peaked out from your shorts

He also liked how you kept your body hairless, just like Maddy

He would be repulsed if you didn't, so when you raise your arms as you dance, he notices your freshly shaved arms and armpits

After Maddy and Nate were finally broken up, more parties happened

And even though girls tried and succeed to get with Nate, he didn't care for them

They were hookups to him, he noticed them once they put themselves out in front of him

But you

Nate noticed you the second you walked into any party

Maybe it was because when you walked in, people rushed to you to say hi and kiss and hug

But he couldn't deny that when he arrived at any party, part of him was scanning the room for you

Nate fucking hated it

He couldn't even admit it to himself that he piqued an interest in you

He reminded himself that he wasn't gay, he wasn't a f@g he would say to himself

Nate was tipsy and couldn't take his eyes off of you

He would try to find things he hated about you, but he just thought of how hot you looked as you danced with your friends, guys all up on you after they've had a couple of drinks

He noticed you were heading to the bathroom, so after taking a quick shot of whatever he could find, he followed you

Once you got into the bathroom of whoever was hosting that night, Nate forced his way in and locked the door behind him

"What the fuck Nate!?" You shout, scared by the current situation

"Shut up.." Nate mumbles as he gets closer to you

His rough hand cups tour cheek

You look up at the muscular Jock, his eyes hazy looking into yours

Nate focused on your lips, then your eyes, then you lips again

His hand was warm on your cheek

He gave in finally and kissed you

It felt warm, definitely wet and definitely very passionate

Like Nate had been waiting a while to do this

A moan slipped out of your mouth into his as the two of you made out

Nate's other hand snaking around your waist

You can feel his muscles against your body as Nate moans into your mouth, his hand on your cheek feeling hot

Nate's tongue toyed with yours as you closed your eyes, his fingers tracing circles on your skin

You felt his hard-on poke you, Nate groaning into your mouth as he pushes his dick against yours

He picks you up, Nate's strong, huge arms holding you up from under your thighs, your arms around his neck as the two of you keep making-out

The sound of lips crashing against one another and muffled moans echo inside the bathroom

Nate grinds his hard dick up against your ass

You feel lightheaded and hot, breaking the kiss and gasping for air, resting your forehead on Nate's built shoulder

"Hey... Help me out here, (y/n)" Nate whispers breathlessly into your ear, making a point of grinding up against you

"Oh yeah? And how should I do that?" You reply, just as breathlessly

More kissing takes place as Nate let's you down from his arms

His hot tongue dancing around yours, Nate's rough, big hands rubbing all over your body

You get on your knees and Nate leans against the sink counter, his body looking godly as you look up at Nate with hooded eyes

He was big, you could feel it through his loose shorts

You remember little from that night, but you definitely remember the sounds that Nate made, he was convinced that was the best head of his life

The two of you became a regular thing, he would bully u less in exchange for late night hookups in his car

He would pull up to your house, text you to come outside and wouldn't say a word to you until he pulled up to your hookup spot

The drive over was always interesting, you'd always wear something Nate liked, you could see his dick hard in his pants and Nate would look over at every chance he got but he would stay silent

He would put your seat down and start kissing you, the windows steaming up as the two of you dry hump each other as you make out

He would start gently with you, but soon Nate would get too horny and fuck you senseless

It was never more than that, you didn't allow yourself to fall for Nate cause he bullied u and was a closeted cunt

He was a dick after the two of you fucked, he would let you both calm down and then tell you to dress back up

He'd drive you home and say "night" and that's all

But Nate was surely falling for you though, after sex he could pretend to fall asleep just to hold you

His big body on top of yours, your cum and his drying on yours and his stomach, sweat making you stick to his seat but tiredness allowing you to fall asleep with him

He liked how big he was compared to you, Nate would get up after you fall asleep and admire you

He hated himself for it, but in the moment he couldn't care less

You looked hot, covered in his spit and sweat and cum, looking peaceful and moonlit as you sleep

Nate eventually invested in baby wipes that he would keep in his car, wiping you down gently as you slept, dressing you up and driving you home, but once you wake up, Nate would continue with his silence and drop you home with a short "night"

But you'd notice... you were wearing his sweatshirt

His massive sweatshirt which smelt like him and felt warm against your skin...

Fuck. You like the cunt that bullied you relentlessly and that is very much closeted

But after that, the two of u became somewhat exclusive (only secretly) Nate really showed how toxic he gets

Cause nobody knew the two of you were a thing, girls would jump on him and he would do nothing about it

Maddy didn't dare talk to him, she was better than that, but other girls definitely tried to get with Nate

He never actually did anything with them, but Nate didn't care that you saw how they all flirted with him, and he really didn't care how that made you feel

Most nights would end in arguments over text on Nate's harem of girls that would flirt with him

He would always play innocent and call you crazy, but you'd never let him gaslight you, so most nights the two of you wouldn't be on talking terms

That is until he goes through the effort of posting an "I'm sorry" card through your letterbox

He won your little game every time he apologised, because you're always sure he means it, that is until he fucks up again the next day

One day you had enough, binned his letter and stopped talking to him

Nate was fuming, he spend 6 hours in the gym that day

You had 23 un-opened snaps and messages from him

It stressed him out you wouldn't talk to him - he did like you, he was also frustrated that you were withholding sex, but most of all he was terrified you would out him

He heard that you had a free house that day and turned up at your house, forcing hid way in when you opened the door - reminiscing of that first night

A lot of shouting ensued

But after that... a LOT of making out followed

You were sat on your bed, grinding against each other, you sat on Nate's lap as you made out for ages

Once Nate started begging to let him fuck you, you stripped down for him

At some point during the night, you though you had broken your bed, from the amount of creaking you two were causing

But the night ended well nonetheless

Nate made you watch as he blocked everyone of the girls that liked him

The two of you made out until you were too tired to keep going

Nate slept over for the first time, he felt comfortable

You body against his, sleeping on his huge chest

For the first time ever, Nate wasn't arguing with himself over his very homo actions

He just let himself feel you and enjoy you as he fell asleep

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Heated training | Steve Rogers

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 -> Avenger!Steve Rogers x Avenger!Female!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> You’re training with Steve but when he is distracted and you push him down once again things become heated.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 2.364

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) 18+, Minors DNI, smut, dry humping, semi public sex, tiny bit angst, fluff

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 -> Hiiii! Could you write a Steve x reader where they’re training and she’s like having to tackle him and straddle him and he gets a boner and things get heated and ya know some smut and maybe the reader is Tony’s daughter and somehow word gets out that something happened and there’s some angst in there. Hope you’re okay writing this, thank you !!❤️ @myersmaniac

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you for the request and hope you like what I made with it.

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 -> Fandom-Free Bingo: Book Night | N1 | semi private sex | @fandom-free-bingo | MCU Kink Bingo | N3 | Free Square | @mcukinkbingo

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

It’s nothing new that the tall and muscular super soldier has a huge crush on you. He always takes care that his hair looks good and that he is shaved, loving the moments you look at him with a smile on your lips. The way you talk to him, when you need to look up because you’re so small compared to him. It’s at least nothing new to him that he is in love with you; he can’t even remember for how long he has already been in love with you, but he doesn’t dare tell you or anybody else something about it. Not only because you’re Tony Stark's daughter, but also because he doesn’t want to ruin things the two of you have — the wonderful friendship he appreciates.

Steve loves to work with you, spend time with you, or just be close to you. Also, when he can’t touch you in the way he would like to do it, even when he can’t feel your lips all over his body or just cuddle with you in the way he would like, he still enjoys when the two of you laugh and spend time together. Whenever you look at him with those shining eyes and the most adorable and sweet smile on your lips, he loves to hear you laugh, especially when he is the reason for it. He could look at you for hours, admiring you.

“Rogers! Concentration! Otherwise, she tackles you down immediately, again.”

He rolls his eyes over Nat’s comment, even though she is right. You have tackled him down in just a short time since he seems too deep in his thoughts today. He doesn’t really train; it’s more staring at you, trying to grip your wrists before you throw him down, but he often fails to grip your wrists and lands on the ground in no time. Steve’s cheeks are red, and sweat runs all over his face and along his neck. His broad chest and defined abs are covered in sweat as well, his skin softly glistening in the light of the training room.

“Yeah- yeah,” he says, rolling his eyes before he grips your fist and tries to push you down.

But Steve gets distracted by your lips — your beautiful plumb lips, which are slightly parted — and your eyes, which shine like the stars at night. He gets lost in your eyes, and a moment later he feels the mattress underneath his back. You’re sitting on top of him with a big smirk on your lips. You don’t miss the way he looks at you — the way his eyes are focused on your lips and his eyes are slightly darkened. You feel a tingle on your skin when he touches you, but you try not to focus on it during training; otherwise, you both would just stare at one another.

“Sorry guys, Clint is calling. You both don’t mind me picking up?” Natasha asks, already walking out of the door.

Steve, and you look after her. When the door shuts, Steve tries to wiggle you off of him, trying to turn the two of you around, but you grip his fists and press them above his head into the mattress. Moving a bit on top of him to have a better position to hold him in place.

“What stole your concentration today, huh?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.

“N—nothing,” he replies breathlessly, trying to free his hand out of your tight grasp.

You narrow even more and cause your nose to slightly scrunch. Steve chuckles, using the moment of your confusion to free his hands, and tries once again to turn the two of you around. Steve thrusts his hips up, his hands finding their way to your hips. His fingers dig into the fabric of your pants, holding it tightly before he lifts you up. But he hasn’t thought you would jump and let yourself fall down back on him, landing perfectly on his growing bulge in his pants and causing both of you to moan.

Steve's eyes widen immediately, and thoughts run through his mind to find an excuse why his dick is hard. When you look into his wide eyes, you’re just as big as his, gasping about the sudden feeling between your thighs.

“F— Sorry,” he mumbles, blushing slightly.

“Why do you have your phone? No, your keys are in your pocket?” You ask, confused, why he thought of putting it out of his pocket before you two started the training.

“I— That’s not my phone nor my key,” he admits quietly.

You narrow, tilting your head slightly to the side, until you realize what’s pressing against your soaked pussy. It doesn’t feel bad at all, but you didn’t know he felt that way for you, or at least he wouldn’t get a hard on during training. But you straddle him for a few minutes already, so it’s understandable that he gets hard when he is attracted to you and when you move in his cock.

You slowly move your hips, feeling his length rubbing against you. Maybe you should get off of him, but it feels too good to do so, so you’re moving slowly, looking deep into his eyes while you wait for Steve to stop you from grinding against him when he doesn’t like it. But he gasps and digs his finger more into your covered skin, helping you grind on his cock.

“Princess, we—we can’t.”

“Why not? Don’t you like it?” You ask, pouting while you stop your movements on his growing dick.

“I love it— I—I love you, but—“

His eyes widen even more when he realizes what he just said. His cheeks heat up, and he opens his mouth to form an apology, but there is nothing he has in mind to say. He’s adorable when he is shy and slightly embarrassed — not that you like seeing him embarrassed around you, just that his lips are slightly parted, his blue eyes look so lovely but at the same time unsure, and his red cheeks — just hot and cute at the same time. First he got hard while training, and now he told you he loves you; he would face palm himself when his hands wouldn’t be clued to your waist, not wanting to let go of you because you could move away from his cock.

Your smirk grows when you lean closer, your lips just an inch away from his, and you can feel his warm breath on your sweaty skin. Steve closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, before he lifts his head and breaks the distance between your lips. His soft, pink lips move perfectly against yours, and he licks over your lips to ask for access. You’re parting your lips, and you're deepening the kiss until both of you need to pull away to breathe deeply.

“I love you too. Please— I need you, Stevie,” you mumble, moving your hips harder on his covered cock.

Steve groans, throwing his head back and giving you more space to kiss and bite into the soft skin of his neck. You lick a strap along his neck, chasing him to close his eyes and thrust his hips up. His bulge presses more against your covered pussy, and you moan softly.

“Everyone could see us!” He breathes heavily, looking through his lashes at you.

You sit up and smirk when your hands slide over his broad chest, and you start moving your hips at a fast but steady pace over his dick. He is panting underneath you; with his hands, he helps you to move on top of him, pushing you further down to cause more friction.

“S—Steve, I’m so close,” you whimper.

The tip of his cock is hitting your clit with every thrust, and you push both of you closer to your edge. He didn’t know it could feel that good without being inside of you, but it does, and he is just as close as you.

“Tell me we’re going to get in your room and do it again; tell me you’re mine,” Steve says, slowing your hips down.

Pre-cum is soaking his pants, and he just wants to push you more on his cock and guide you over it to make both of you come, but he wants to hear that you’re his.

“So possessive, huh?” You ask, teasingly.”

His answer is just a harsh movement of his hips. You moan and throw your head back, trying to move faster, but he stops you with his grasp.

“S— Stevie. We can do it as often as you want; I’m yours— I’m all yours, but please let me come,” you whine.

Steve grins, moving your hips faster on his dick and bringing you closer to the edge. It doesn’t take long for the two of you until you’re coming, clenching around nothing while Steve is soaking his pants with his cum. You’re both breathing heavily and calming down from your high when you hear someone coming back into the room.

“G— What are you two doing, sitting like that and doing nothing?” Tony asks, narrowing.

Steve chuckles, nodding his head. Tony just wants to inform you that you are going to have a meeting, but seeing you on top of Steve, straddling him, wasn’t something he expected to see when he came into the training room. Actually, the two of you are always trying to tackle one another.

“Oke—“ he pauses, nodding his head and inhaling. “Meeting.”

With that, he leaves the room, and you laugh. Your brother’s expression was just too funny. You lean down, capture Steve’s lips, and kiss him softly.

“After the meeting, I’m all yours.”

“You’re already mine, but then we repeat that here without clothes.”

You then get off of Steve. The blond-haired man looks at the wet spot on his pants and smirks when he sees you staring at his covered cock. You both take a shower because you get ready for the meeting Tony told you about — next mission, which isn’t really interesting for you since you only have your eyes on one another.

Steve and you have been secretly dating for a few weeks now. You often spend time together, which isn’t new to see for the others. Even when you smile in another way, your gazes are different — happier — but no one really asks about it. They are just happy that Steve and you are happy — still thinking you’re best friends.

When Tony asks you to come into his office because he wants to talk with you, you have a huge smile on your face. When you knock at the door and swing it open, you freeze immediately. Steve is sitting there in front of your father, who looks angry, and you swallow hard. The smile fades away, and you look slightly confused.

“Come in and close the door.”

You do as you’re told; you close the door behind you and walk toward the men, letting yourself fall down next to Steve on a chair. Tony looks at you before he moves to face Steve; he then points at the monitor on the desk in front of you.

When your father turns on the video, you gasp, your eyes widen, and your hands get sweaty. You hear Steve inhaling deeply next to you. He swallows hard and slides down in his chair. The video that Tony is showing of the two of you shows Steve and you making out on the floor before you pull him with you into your room.

You know Tony isn’t a friend of the men around you; he is protective and doesn’t want someone to hurt you. He already made your ex-boyfriend run away because he was afraid of Tony’s Iron Man suit walking without him inside the suit.

“D—Dad, I would say i—it’s not what it looks like what Steve and I did, but it is. B—“

“Rogers!” Tony says, his jaw clenching when he looks at your boyfriend.

“Tony, I—I don’t want to hurt her. I—I love her,” Steve says, reaching for your hand, but you pull away, afraid of what your father could say.

Steve sighs, looking down and inhaling deeply. He rubs his hands over his pants and sighs once again before he continues to speak.

“I would never do anything she didn’t want to. Tony, I love her.”

You smile softly, but your body is still tensed, and you don’t dare look at Steve. Tony nods, leaning back in his chair and tapping his fingers on the surface of his desk.

“Do you love him?” He asks, looking at you, and you nod, then he turns his face back to Steve. “When you hurt her, I will cut your balls off!”

Steve doesn’t know if he wants to smile or swallow hard, but he smiles, nodding and turning toward you. He places his hand in front of you, waiting until you place yours in his big one before he brings your hand to his lips and kisses your soft skin. Tony rolls playfully with his eyes, watching the two of you when you lean in to press your lips against Steve’s, soft and sweet.

"First, the gentleman an— Get a room!” Tony shouts, and you burst out laughing about the way he raises his eyebrows and grasps the surface of the table.

“We will,” you tell him, smirking when you get up and pull Steve with you.

With a wink at Tony, you make your way to the door of his office, leaving it. Before you can walk further through the floor, Steve pushes you against the wall behind you, attacking your lips with his.

“I love you so much, princess.”

“I love you too, Stevie.”

With that, he lifts you up and carries you into your bedroom, continuing what you have seen in the video Tony shows the two of you. And you’re glad he accepts what you have with Steve, because it’s special, and you’re happier than you ever have been since you've been with Steve. He treats you like a princess, like his perfect and sweet princess.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @felicitylemon @cjand10 @casa-boiardi @cevansbaby-dove @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77@bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @pono-pura-vida @princesscore-angel

[eufezco]

❥ kissing them ⸺ coryo, peeta, sejanus, finnick

peacekeeper!coryo is not afraid of taking control. that scrawny boy who was your mentor no longer existed, his head was now shaved, his body had doubled in size and he held a peacekeeper position in your district. who would say huh? who would say that the last thing you'd do before leaving your district was gonna say goodbye to him.

"i'll go with you. meet me in the hanging tree. tomorrow morning." he said and pinched your chin with his fingers so you would look at him.

and so you did, you looked back at him with big eyes. coriolanus turned his head to check that no one was coming and then, with both of his hands holding your head still, he kissed you. his body pressed against yours and you had to take a few steps backward to avoid falling, crashing against the wall, and being trapped between it and corionlanus' body.

his lips were moving with such intensity as if he was trying to devour you, you could even feel your teeth clash. coriolanus squeezed your body even more with his and let out a few grunts straight from his chest when you kissed him back with the same intensity. but then he suddenly broke the kiss trying to catch his breath and looking down. "i'll see you tomorrow." and coriolanus left you there, with you breathing so heavily and having to squeeze your thighs.

mutt!peeta has forgotten what it's like to kiss someone. so one night when you were on watch and peeta couldn't sleep, you decided to go and sit next to him, ignoring the safe distance you were told to keep from him. he would ask you questions to which you would answer real or not to help clear up his confusion.

"we kissed. in the arena. before you shoot your arrow. real or not?"

"real."

peeta slowly nodded, feeling guilty and sorry for not remembering it. you remembered it all too well and you wanted him to do it too. once again ignoring all the security protocols they had prepared for peeta. you moved closer to him and caught his lips with yours. peeta didn't quite know what to do, but your lips felt good, the knot that had formed in his stomach told him. it felt so good that peeta was glad that that memory was no longer in his mind so he could live it for the first time again.

"i'm sorry," you mumbled when you parted ways but peeta shook his hands and went in for another kiss.

mentor!sejanus is desperate. his father had found him a good tribute to mentor but that person was from his own district. was that on purpose? his father always said that sejanus never truly left district 2. was he trying to punish him?

he left the academy room from which you were watching the reaping. he was sitting by your side and you could see the tight grip he had on his own uniform pants, nervous, before his tribute was announced. once the girl from the district you had been assigned was chosen, you walked out of the room after him.

he was mad, pacing back and forth around the hallway, talking to himself and waving his hands in indignation you got in his way and sejanus didn't seem to notice because he was so angry. you stopped him before he bumped into you, placing your hands on both of his cheeks and bringing your lips together. the boy's body seemed to release all the tension it had built up as he melted in your hands.

you broke away when everyone began to applaud for the end of the harvest. "any better?" you asked.

sejanus' cheeks grew hot, my god could you see them turning red? he let out all the air in his lungs and fixed his uniform. "yeah, i think so."

tribute!finnick is dying of nerves and all he can think about is your lips. his name had been picked again after five years. finnick didn't mind going back to the arena, he already won once and he had no doubt he would do it again, what hurt him was to be apart from you.

they let you see him before they took him to the capitol.

you threw yourself into his arms. finnick placed his hands on your cheeks and connected his lips with yours. you dug your fingers into his blonde locks of hair, pushing him as close to you as possible. his hands slid up and down your back, trying to hold you all in his arms. when he was starving in the arena he wanted to remember your lips. finnick's lips moved desperately against yours, knowing that this would be the last time he would have them for a long time. finnick wanted to remember their softness, how your saliva mixed, the way your teeth bit into his lower lip, the soft moans that escaped from your mouth due to the intensity of the kiss...

"and if i die in that arena, my last thought would be of your lips." you heard him say through your tv during his interview with caesar.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

König shaving the readers 🐱 while making eye contact....

👄 *bites bottom lip*

I go feral for your writing my dear ❤️‍🔥

"Stop squirming."

Your legs are slightly shaking from the wide spread they are forced into to accomodate a giant between them. The said giant places a large, warm palm on your inner thigh to punctuate his command – and open you up even more.

"Please be careful," you plead as if this wasn't your idea in the first place: to have König shave your pussy with one of his knives.

You were sure he would say no because it's dangerous, but it turns out your shy request was too delicious to refuse. Other men would've probably looked at you like you're a freak and told you to shave it yourself, but König merely tilted his head and told you he would need more than one knife to do it: a big one for larger areas and a few smaller blades to finish.

"Who do you think I am?" He grunts, slightly insulted. You know he's a master when it comes to knives, you would trust this man with your life, but now that he's there, wielding a blade so close to your delicate folds, you're not so sure... What if something slips?

But König is extremely careful, and extremely gentle. This man handles his duties with obsessive dedication, so why would this be any different? And besides, you're not work, you're the love of his life.

He has fallen into some sort of a flow state with what must be two of his favorite things: a sharp, deadly blade and a soft, inviting pussy. You can do nothing but bite your lip as he shaves you with a razor-sharp focus. The knife doesn't hurt you at all: actually, it feels like he's caressing your skin with a feather.

Every once in a while he gives you a glance, probably to see how you're doing. Being on display like this for him is more than enough to make your heart flutter, but it's those dark, heated looks that make you wet.

"There... Endlich fertig." He eventually rises from between your legs and leans back to examine his work with silent approval in his stare. Then he gets a warm, wet towel to wipe you clean, and admires you once more, like your freshly shaved pussy is a work of art.

His work of art.

"Pretty," he concludes, then looks at you with another trademark flash that usually precedes a good wrecking. You squirm again, merely from that horny, promising stare fixed on you from beneath the darkness of his mask. Even your thighs start to drift closed; it's simply a reaction to him being so obsessed with you. You don't even know whether it's born from the instinct to hide your vulnerable parts from a predator or because you know it will drive him crazy when you play a little hard to get.

"Keep them open," he orders, his voice dropping a note or two. You obey immediately; you wouldn't even dream of rejecting him. You only look at him with wide, love-filled eyes as he starts to lift the mask.

You should've known he wants a taste after looking at your throbbing, wet cunt – the one he just called pretty – from up close for solid 15 minutes. You can play hard to get as much as you want, but your pussy always gives you away. It's almost dripping by now, and answers him with another wink as the familiar pair of cruel lips and a brutally scarred jawline are revealed from behind the rising veil of darkness.

And god... He's smiling.

"Have to get my reward, eh?"

[aerynwrites]

Whittle Mistakes

Halsin x GN!Reader

A/N: Based off this Request. Hope you all enjoy this little fluffy piece!

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: small injury, magic healing, mostly pure fluff

The afternoon is a mild one today, the usual heat giving way to a pleasantly cool breeze as you listen intently to Halsin’s instructions. 

You managed to convince the druid to show you how to whittle, a feat that actually took very little convincing in truth. Once you found out about his hobby, you’d been wanting to ask him to teach you. Not only because you are genuinely interested, but because you knew it’d give you an excuse to spend time with him away from the others. 

He’s been increasingly patient with you, bringing all of the supplies you both would need in order to take on this task. He even had small blocks of wood already prepared, and was now walking you slowly through the steps of what to do. 

He’d already shown you how to draw a rough shape of what you want to create on the sides of the wood with a small piece of charcoal, and now he was showing you the actual techniques of whittling. 

He holds the wood in one hand, and his knife in the other, large hands holding the tool steady as he slowly carved small slivers of wood away. 

“The key is to not cut away too much wood at once,” he says, as you lean over to watch from your seat next to him. “You can always cut more away, but you cannot put it back. Better to go slow.” 

You nod as you continue to watch him. You’re both sitting in a small clearing in the woods, Halsin having one leg propped up to support the arm holding the knife while the other lays comfortably out in front of him as he works. You sit right beside him, cross legged as you support the block of wood on one of your legs. 

“Okay,” you say, nodding. “Slow and steady wins the race.” 

Halsin smiles. “Precisely. Now,” he gestures to your block, “go ahead and start, let me know if you have any questions and I will also try to keep an eye on you if you need assistance. But there’s no better teacher than instinct, so just do what you think is best.” 

You nod as he turns back to his work, but don’t kiss the way his eyes flick back over to you as you pick up your knife. From everything he’s told you so far, it can’t be too hard, once you get to the intricate parts of the project it will be, but right now you’re just trying to get a general shape. 

What could go wrong? 

You start slowly, pressing the knife’s sharp edge against the wood and pulling it towards you slowly as you dutifully work to shave off more and more of the wood. Halsin is of course whittling a duck; but you’ve opted to try and carve a bear, wanting to give it to Halsin at the end. 

Silence falls over the clearing as you both work, only occasionally making small talk or commenting on one another’s work. It’s comfortable like this, a nice reprieve from everything happening around you all. 

You and Halsin have grown close over the past several weeks, and to say you were surprised when he expressed interest in you was an understatement. But you’d happily accepted, and as time went on, it feels like you both have known one another for years, falling into such a comfortable partnership that it never made you think twice. 

Even now, despite the silence, you’re content just being close to him and sharing something that he cares about. You’re happy to just be in his presence even if there’s no words passing between you. 

Soon, more defined shapes start to appear from your respective wood blocks, Halsin’s looking much more identifiable than yours. Taking a moment to look at your misshapen attempt at a bear, you realize its malformity is because of its head. You don’t seem to carve enough wood away to create a defined difference between the head and body. 

But as you try to do so, you find your knife slipping against the awkward angle. So, in an attempt to achieve your goal, you turn the wood in your lap, and move to run the knife away from your body, hoping the downward angle will help. 

You just start to push the knife when you see Halsin reach for you. 

“Be careful, my heart-“

His warning comes too late. Your knife slips from the woodblock, and with the pressure of you pushing down, you’re unable to react fast enough to stop the sharp blade from slicing into your leg where the wood rests. 

You cry out in surprise more than pain, but as the blood wells up from the shallow cut, the sharp sting makes itself known. 

Halsin is up and crouching in front of you before you can even blink, taking the knife and wood from you. The blade cut through the thin cotton of your pants, allowing you to see the wound clearly. It’s nothing serious and doesn’t seem too deep, but Halsin brows are creased with worry nonetheless. 

He reaches out for you, placing gentle hands on your thigh just around the wound, inspecting it quickly. 

“Halsin,” you say, reaching out to place a hand atop his own. “I’m fine, it’s just a little cut. Nothing some bandages won’t fix.” 

Your words fall on deaf ears, because before you can stop him, bright golden light glows beneath his palms and you watch as the wound closes up in the blink of an eye, the pain ebbing away until it’s gone completely. 

Halsin looks up at you then, eyes soft and you can’t help but let out a quiet huff. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say quietly as Halsin shifts closer, one hand coming to rest behind you as a smile tugs at his lips. 

“I could not very well leave you injured, what kind of partner would I be then?” 

You roll your eyes, but reach up to cup his cheek affectionately. “You’re such a mother hen, sometimes.” 

A small chuckle escapes him before his lips capture your own in a chast kiss. One your return happily before he pulls away. 

“I should have warned you not to carve away from yourself,” he says softly, moving back so he’s sitting in front of you once more, reaching for your now lumpy piece of wood. 

“It’s alrigh,” you assure him, taking your project from his hands as you pick up your knife once more. “I should have known that wouldn’t end well,” you admit, staring down at your sad excuse for a bear. “I was trying to make this look more like a bear but…I think it’s a lost cause.” 

Smiling Halsin shakes his head. “Do not give up, my heart. You can achieve whatever you set your mind to, even something as simple as whittling.” 

You laugh, and start to continue your work. “We’ll see about that.” 

The smile on his lips doesn’t leave as he takes up his position beside you once more, and this time, you shift to lean into his side as you work, smiling when you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I love you,” you tell him. 

“And I love you more,” he replies. 

Then, the comfortable silence falls over you once more. The only sound being the gentle scraping of knives in wood as you both continue your work.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part seventeen

authors note: hi! this one isn't as long as some of the most recent, but it is fluffy! well, for the most part. next one will probably be a lil longer and def not as fluffy.....

also, ya'll fake asf for not telling me i put 'simone' as reader sister's name when it's 'bianca' at the end of the last update. i may or may not watch crime docs sometimes while writing......

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 5k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @msbigredmachine @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @wanderingreigns

You don’t typically get nervous.

It’s just not a trademark of your personality, but for this….for this, there’s definitely a fair amount of trepidation. For one, outside of the fact that most of your favorite outfits suddenly seem too unflattering or fit a bit too snug. For two, you can’t seem to get your hair to cooperate with the same updo you’ve done since you were in your teens.

Not to mention the fact that you were so in your head about this damn lunch during your shower that you weren’t paying close enough attention as you were shaving down there and nicked yourself. On a fucking lip of all things. So now you walk with a bit of limp because that fucking cut keeps brushing, burning, against your underwear.

Truthfully, all of this just feels like a sign that you shouldn’t be doing this. That you should text Bianca some excuse as to why you can’t make it to lunch.

But, it’s the image of Callie’s sweet, smiling face and ardent excitement as you told her Bianca was coming in town and bringing Taylor that you realize you can’t do that to her. She’s so excited about seeing and playing with Taylor again that it feels almost cruel to take that away from her.

So pushing aside your injured pussy lip, crooked bun, and unflattering outfit, you do what needs to be done for the sake of your daughter.

And yourself, really. 

Of course, you got Callie ready before yourself, as she’s much much easier. So, it’s nothing to grab her once you’re done overthinking to head out and go. But not before snapping a selfie of the two of you and sending it to your close friends story and Joe. Cause God forbid this man learns what Stories are and how they work. 

You may not be thrilled with your appearance, but Callie is just too cute to not photograph.

You two arrive at the restaurant before Bianca and Taylor, which you’re mostly grateful for. It allows you to work through the remnants of your anxiety and catch up on a few texts. The first thing you have to reply to though is Joe who texts you in response to your snap.

Joe: Why does it go away so fast?

Joe: Just text me the photo.

His messages make you laugh aloud, forcing you to smack your hand over your mouth not to draw attention to yourself. Joe’s paltry skills with social media, or just Snapchat, really is both comical and sad as hell.

You shake your head, typing out your reply. 

You: babe, how many times do i have to tell you? just screenshot! 

Joe: That’s too much work.

Laughing again, you see Callie briefly look your way before she focuses her attention back onto her tablet. She’s been using it a bit more often than you’d like, but considering everything ya’ll have been through the past couple weeks, it’s hard to put limits there.

It is something to be mindful of though.

Hell, maybe she can help her dad learn a thing or two about how to work technology. 

You: i’m signing you up for some type of tech class or shit for your birthday, cause this is ridiculous. 🥴

Joe: Lol.

A thought then crosses your mind as you shoot him another text.

You: what do you want for your birthday, btw?

You: and remember, only one of us is rich. 🙃

Back when you and Joe were dating, the most he’d get from you is a birthday text or maybe some baked goods if he happened to be visiting near the time of his birthday. But, this is obviously very different. You’re now in a committed relationship, about to move in together to raise your daughter.

And with all Joe has done for you these past months, both financially and emotionally, it would be almost criminal to not get him something.

Of course, you also know that your man is just about as stubborn as you are, hence your expectation that he’ll simply say nothing or find some bullshit reason why you shouldn’t or don’t need to.

If only you actually planned to listen to him. 

And it’s also only March, giving you like two months to wear him down into just accepting your gratitude. 

Joe: Just say yes when I ask.

Reading his message makes you frown, your nose turned up in confusion. What is he talking about?

Joe: That’s all I need. All I want.

He’s successful in providing a nice distraction, sure, but this man is also confounding the fuck out of you. He’s always on some elusive, coy bullshit. 

You: what? what kind of man code speak shit is that? yes? yes to what? anal? 

You: we been over that shit. you’re too big. i’m down for anything but that.

Then again, Joe does have an uncanny ability to make anything feel good. And comparing a sexual experience with Amir to Joe is literally fucking apples and oranges. Much like his wrestling persona, Joe is on some ‘god mode’ type shit when it comes to sex.

Joe: Shut up. You’re gonna make me hard in this fuckin meeting thinking bout that pussy….

Naturally, you angle your body away from Callie a bit to ensure she has absolutely no way to see your phone, to see that message that has you pressing your thighs together. It’s definitely been too long since you’ve had him inside you, and him being nasty right now isn’t helping that. 

You: stop being nasty, please. callie is literally sitting next to me, and i don’t feel like soaking my panties.

You don't need your daughter knowing her parents are freaks.

You: i’ll see about when’s the next time we can come visit though 👀

Joe is hella deep in WrestleMania season, so it’s virtually impossible for him to get away, hence you needing to be the one to take her to go see him. Granted, you’re also busy as hell, trying to wrap up things at home, gradually transitioning to the house in Florida.

The house that you and Joe now officially own, because true to his word, as always, your name is on everything. You attended the signing with him which made it official. It’s also when you got to see just how much Joe spent on said house, the number nearly making you pass out in your seat.

Even more, to speed up the process and ensure you could move in much sooner than what’s typical when buying a house, he paid over the asking price. 

Cash.

It’s most definitely not possible to love this man more than you already do.

He follows up with another text shortly after, respectfully changing the subject in a way that makes you smile warmly. 

Joe: Don’t be nervous. 

It’s a bit unreal how good he is at reading you, even through texts.

You: lmao how’d ya know?

Joe: Cause I know you. 

Joe: You two already connected before you even realized who she was. Lean into that. Try to take your father out of the equation. This is about you and her. Not him.

Reading over Joe’s message once, twice, three times really does something to help your anxiety. He’s right. If you had never even known who Bianca really is, you guys would probably be even closer now, chatting it up frequently. There’s so much more potential there than there is danger.

You: thank you….i love you ❤️

Joe: Love you too, baby. Text me when ya’ll finish. 

Switching threads, you send out a few more texts and work out a date and time with Kaylah for her to accompany you and Alexis furniture shopping when Callie’s sweet, excited voice pulls you from your phone.

“Taylor!” Callie swiftly pushes her tablet to the side and climbs off the bench you two were waiting on when she sees Taylor’s smiling face.

“Callie!” 

It’s with an absolutely full heart you watch the two run to meet each other for a big hug, embracing like they’ve known each other for years.

Like they’re family.

“Hey….”

Your attention switches to Bianca who’s standing just a few feet away from you, clearly torn on whether to offer her hand, initiate a hug, or what.

Remembering Joe’s words of wisdom, you take a deep breath and hug her. “Hi, Bianca.”

You can literally feel the anxiety melt off of the both of you as you pull back and see she has unshed tears in her eyes. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

You’re able to offer a smile, a genuine one too, especially as you glance over at the girls who are now sitting on the bench, looking and talking over Callie’s tablet. “I think it’s worth it just for that alone.”

Bianca looks and laughs. “She’s been asking about Callie.”

That dims your smile a bit, a strange sort of sadness. “Callie has been asking about her too.” You feel bad depriving the girls of seeing each other, scheduling out this meeting so far in advance, but it wasn’t entirely of your choosing.

The past three weeks since you found out Joe literally bought a house for three of ya’ll has been filled with nothing but preparing for the move. Working as much as you can, trying to transition your students as best as possible. Trying to figure out who to hire to move you all, flights back and forth from your town to Florida as you work on things for the house like getting the lights and water turned on and in your and Joe’s name.

Just a lot of shit.

So while you weren’t itching to pencil this in ASAP, you also would have been okay if it happened a bit sooner and closer to when you finally responded to Bianca’s text.

The four of you are escorted and seated in the restaurant, you and Bianca having Callie and Taylor sit in the booth across from you. 

This isn’t a conversation they need to overhear, not that they’d want to. They’re in their own little world.

After ordering and making small talk over your meals, Bianca is the one to make the first move. “I guess it’d be remiss of me to not start off with the big elephant in the room.”

There’s an unfamiliar sense of anxiety that starts to stir in your stomach, but you push it away, joking, “just one? I think we have a couple.”

She laughs and then starts off with, “I remember that day, you know.” Your confusion must show because she adds with an almost gentleness. “That day in the police station.”

And the anxiety is back, your eyes dropping to the plate of food as you try your best to keep your shit together. “Oh…that.”

“This probably sounds crazy, but….there was something about you that seemed familiar almost. But when I asked dad who you were….well…..”

“What did he say?” A part of you wants to know, but a large part of you doesn’t. So whether she answers or not, both are okay with you. 

There’s clear hesitation but she still answers, nonetheless. “He just said you were a troubled teen.”

You scoff, shaking your head. Typical. That man is bottom of the barrel trash, and if not for Bianca probably thinking decently of him, you’d say as such. “Of course he did.” 

“When I first asked him about you, he lied. He said he had no idea who you were, but I refused to let it go because…..because I could see the hurt in your eyes that night. I knew there was a story there, and I wasn’t going to give up until he came clean. And when he did…..” She shakes her head, tapping her fork against her plate. “We haven’t spoken since.”

That surprises you. You’d take a guess that Bianca and that man were close, or at least semi-close, so the fact that they haven’t spoken…..you feel bad. Not for him. Fuck him. But for her. “Bianca, regardless of what happened between me and….him…that shouldn’t get in the way—”

“I always wanted a sister, Y/N,” she interrupts, and you can hear the emotion arriving in her voice. “I begged my parents for years when I was a kid for them to give me a sister. And he knew. They both knew about you. They knew about you, and they kept us away from each other. He kept us away from each other.” She angrily wipes at her eyes. “I–I don’t know how to forgive that.”

Her emotions and feelings are valid. You feel the same way just for slightly different reasons, though forgiveness isn’t even something you’ve thought about. There is no forgiving that man for what he did.

But, just because that’s your story doesn’t mean it has to be Bianca’s.

“You need time to sort through it all,” is the best guidance you can give her. Anything more would be the emotionally blind leading the emotionally blind. “The same way I needed time before reaching out to you.”

She nods, sitting on your words. “And I really do appreciate you giving this a chance, Y/N.”

You’re starting to as well, but before things can move forward, you feel the need to set some ground rules. “I’m open to this….to getting to know you more, to letting the girls continue to know each other more, but…..I have a stipulation.”

Bianca swallows. “I’m listening.”

“Anything I share with you regarding myself and my family, I need it to stay between you and me. Your husband is fine, but your parents and brother…..I don’t want them knowing anything about me and especially my daughter.” Fingers nervously tapping against the table, you disclose, “I just had a really messed up situation happen that I’m still trying to fully process, so I’m even more protective of Callie and myself at this point in my life. And I like you, Bianca, but this isn’t something I can compromise on.”

“And you shouldn’t.” Her initial response surprises you a bit. A part of you was worried she’d try to convince you that you should at least be open to the possibility of getting to know the rest of the family. But given she’s not even speaking to her parents right now, your stipulation must not be a hard sell. “I completely understand, and I’ll respect your wishes. It’s probably better this way, actually.” 

Her agreeing and being respectful really means a lot to you, and you express as such. “Thank you, Bianca.”

Her smile is warm and welcoming as the both of you happen to glance over at the girls at the exact same time while they’re in the midst of a giggle fest. It makes you laugh as she asks, “so, you mentioned something about moving?”

“Yeah, umm, we’re moving to Florida with Callie’s dad.” For a brief second, you second guess telling her this information. Second guess how much you want to disclose. But, you decide that if Bianca is willing to meet you halfway, you need to do the same.

“Seriously?” you nod. “You know we live in Florida too, right?”

Yes and no. You remember Bianca telling you she lived further down South, but it isn’t until this very moment that you recall Bianca lives in Florida. You ask where and realize she’ll only be about 45 minutes out from your house.

Callie and Taylor are going to love this.

“So…..” She starts off, facial expression giving away that she has a question she’s burning to ask but is trying her best to keep to herself. “Callie’s dad…..”

Instantly, you’re laughing. It’s comical seeing her try so hard to be respectful. “You wanna know how we met.”

She releases a heavy sigh, planting both hands on the table. “Girl, you cannot just have Roman freaking Reigns fine ass be your man and daughter’s father and not expect me to ask.” Your laughter increases as she adds on, “respectfully, of course. I’m happily married. But, I still have eyes.”

Fair. Very fucking fair. “It’s….a bit of a complicated story.”

She darts her eyes over to the girls who seem like they’re still only in the first stages of play. “I think we have time.”

She’s not wrong.

Leaning a bit closer to her, extra mindful of your volume, you start of this wild yet epic love story. “So it all started at a Smackdown show….”

—------

“Alexis, why the hell is your mugshot your instagram profile pic?”

It’s a question you never thought would leave your mouth, nor something you thought you’d ever see. 

You still feel bad about that, about Alexis getting arrested for assaulting Mariah. Granted, it’s obvious Alexis doesn’t. Not one bit. She’s said as such to you, that she would do it all over again, arrest and all.

And it does help, slightly, that just as she predicted, the DA chose not to pursue the case on the grounds of lack of evidence. How much of that was Alexis being rich working in her favor vs there not being enough concrete evidence to sustain a case is beyond you. Regardless, you’re just happy she’s not in any major legal trouble because of you.

She looks over and flips her recent sew–in over her shoulder. “I look cute.”

She’s not entirely wrong, but Alexis looking amazing at any point and time isn’t a hard thing in general considering she’s naturally fucking gorgeous. “It’s a mugshot, Alexis.”

“And? Booking or not, I look cute.” You can see her observing some of the living room sets you two pass while making your way back to Kaylah and Callie from your bathroom break. Your bladder has been freaking irritating, with you needing to pee more than usual. And of course, Alexis couldn’t turn down an opportunity to snap bathroom selfies. “What about this?” 

Sliding your phone back in your purse, you see it’s a bedroom set, immediately reminding, “I’m waiting for Joe, Lex.”

“Girl, isn’t WrestleMania in like three weeks? You can’t wait that long to get a damn bed.” Before you can protest, she lifts an acrylic stiletto nail to silence you. “How you gonna be sleeping in a million dollar house on a damn air mattress, Y/N? You suck at this rich bitch shit.”

“I’ll be fine. We just need to get Callie something today. That’s the priority.” And it’s the truth. Callie having at least the essentials in her room is why you’re perusing this fancy ass furniture store in the first place. “As long as my baby is good, I’m good.”

“Whatever, but do you at least like it?” Her question is valid, so you observe the bedroom set. It’s a seven piece, dark wood, silver accents. “It is nice. Looks like something for a man too.”

That’s the thing though. You feel a bit wrong buying a bedroom set that’s for two people when only one is present. Joe made it clear he’s cool with whatever you get, but considering he’s paying for it, he should have a say.

Alexis then points out. “It even includes a full body mirror that way ya’ll can watch yourselves fucking.”

“Alexis!”

“What?” She smacks her teeth, hand on her hip. “Is it a lie?”

Your mouth opens and immediately snaps shut. She’s right. It’s not a lie. Joe loves making you watch him fuck you, finger you, eat you out. You name it. And it’s not like you object either….

But, that doesn’t mean you need it pointed out in a damn furniture store.

“Let’s just get back to Callie,” you murmur, certain that your cheeks are tinged red. Thank black Jesus for melanin to hide embarrassment in moments like this. 

Callie spots you before you can even catch her attention. “Mommy!” She runs over, taking your hand as she guides you over to a display. “Look!” Immediately, you can understand why she wants you to see it. 

It literally looks like something out of HGTV magazine. White bedroom pieces adorned with pinks, purples, yellows. All of Callie’s favorite colors. The bed is actually a bunk bed that’s designed like a castle, the larger bed on the bottom and the spiral staircase leading up to the second bed a bit smaller.

It’s so excessive and so Callie.

Kaylah comes beside you with a knowing smirk. “I think she’s found the one.”

“Can I get it mommy, please!” Callie is peering up at you with those big brown eyes, holding onto your legs. “We can ask daddy!”

That last part makes you chuckle. You already know that man would have his card out by now, signing for the transaction. Whatever she wants, he makes it happen.

You do ask though, looking for a price tag or something. You know it’s gotta cost a pretty penny with how excessive and grandiose it is. “How much is it…..”

“Who cares?” Alexis suddenly sounds, walking over with an annoyed expression. “You know Joe is good for it. Time to pull out one of those fancy new cards he got for you.”

She’s referring to the new set of debit and credit cards in your wallet, all the result of Joe adding you on as an authorized user on all of his accounts. For some reason, you’ve hesitated to actually use any of them, regardless of the fact that all of the shopping you need to do is for the house you’re all living in together.

Kaylah gently bumps into your side. “You already know what he’d say.”

His deep voice is in your ear as if he’s standing beside you. My little girl gets what she wants.

“Girl, he’d be at the register by now.” You laugh, looking down and bopping Callie’s nose. “Daddy already said you can get whatever you want, Callie Bear” Wanting to be sure, you lean down, asking, “is this really the one you want?”

“Yes!” She cheers, jumping up and down and hugging you. “Mommy! I’m gonna be a princess!”

Rubbing her cheek, you lean over to kiss her forehead. She’s not entirely wrong. Especially when she sees the surprise Joe is working on for her new bedroom.

Feeling slightly ganged up on but also content with making a purchase that will make your little girl happy, you stand up, announcing, “then let’s get it for you, baby.” Callie continues to celebrate at the pending purchase of her new bedroom set as you grab your phone to check the time. The OB-GYN happened to have a cancellation today, which works perfectly cause the initial appointment they gave you wasn’t until the end of April. So, you snatched it up. “Come on, let’s go use one these fancy new cards.”

Alexis nods with such pride, giving a fist pump and high five to Callie after Kaylah does the same. “Let’s fuc—”

“Alexis!”

—---------

After purchasing and arranging an expedited delivery date for Callie’s new bedroom set, the three of you head back over to the new house. Kaylah leaves shortly after, needing to go pick Ellie up from school. 

But Alexis stays and keeps Callie company while you shower and get ready for your appointment. Callie asks if she can come with you, and you explain that you’ll come right back home after, which seems to somewhat settle her. But, you can tell she still doesn’t like the answer. 

It’s something you make a mental note to discuss with Joe. 

She’s been asking a lot of questions like ‘when are you coming back,’ and ‘can i come with you?’. 

You’ve noticed an increase in her separation anxiety since the whole DCFS nightmare. Not that you can blame her. You also have a small amount of anxiety any time you have to “leave” her, a brief irrational thought that they could take her away from you again.

Yeah….definitely something to discuss with Joe.

The doctor’s office is only about a 15 minute drive from the house, which is super nice and the office atmosphere is automatically welcoming. Right off the bat, you feel comfortable. Approaching the receptionist who offers a kind smile, you provide your first and last name, explaining you’re here for a new patient appointment.

She types on the computer, asking in a kind voice, “were you able to fill out the paperwork?”

“Uhhh, no, I’m sorry. We’re in the process of trying to move here, so I’ve been back and forth, and it just slipped my mind.” You’re probably offering more information than what’s necessary, but as someone who gets heavily annoyed when people don’t follow through on tasks, you can understand if there’s irritation on her part. “But, I came a little early to see if I can just fill it out now?”

“Of course, honey.” Her voice is honey sweet as she rolls in her chair, grabbing a clipboard that has paperwork attached. Handing it to you, she explains, “just answer as best you can and be sure to signature and initial when it asks for either. If you don’t finish by the time they call you back, don’t worry about it. You can finish it with the nurse.”

“Thank you so much.” As she hands you back your drivers license and insurance card, you place both back in your wallet and find an empty seat in the waiting area. Using the pen attached, you start to complete the paperwork, unsurprised by how thick the packet is. Specialty doctors typically have a lot of information they need. Unfortunately, some of it requires you to pull up your phone to log into your MyChart. This makes the process take even longer, so much so that you’re only about halfway done when an older black woman, probably around your mom’s age, calls you back.

Seeing so much melanin instantly puts you at so much ease. You can see why Kaylah highly recommended this practice. You haven’t even met the doctor yet, and you’re already sold. 

The nurse, Helen, as she introduced herself makes nice pleasantries with you as she takes your blood pressure before directing you to stand on the scale.

It’s one thing to suspect that you’ve gained weight but another to actually have it confirmed. And that’s exactly what the scale does.

It’s nothing major, but definitely something to monitor. You’ve never been super anal about your weight, but you also know you have to keep an eye on it, to some extent.

Helen takes the incomplete paperwork from you, kindly explaining that she can just take the information from you verbally as she types it into the system. You’re grateful because your hand is already cramping.

Her questions are mostly easy, some requiring you to use the MyChart as well as dig deep into your long-term memory to retrieve those long forgotten tidbits of information.

But, it’s one question in particular that changes everything. 

“And what was the date of your last menstrual cycle?”

Naturally, you unlock your phone again to open Flo, but your finger is hovering over the pink icon when it slams into you. A whirlwind of little things that create a much bigger, life changing picture.

Nausea. Vomiting. Emotionality. Breast tenderness. Weight gain. Frequent urination.

No cycle.

“Oh my god…..” Your phone drops in your lap as you bring your hands to cover your mouth, eyes wide and focused on nothing in particular. “Oh…..” How you didn’t put the pieces together much sooner is a bit beyond you. A large chunk of it, you’d guess, was because you chalked it all up to the high stress you’ve been under the past few months. Many people would react the way you did, but this isn’t just that.

It’s more.

So much more.

Helen is suddenly crouched in front of you, hand on your knee. “Is everything alright, baby?”

Watery eyes snapping to her, you nod fervently, starting to wipe at the tears that have already started to spill. “Yes. I’m sorry. It’s just—” You get choked up, releasing a perfect mixture of a sob and laugh. “The last time I was in this position, I sat in my doctor’s office bawling my eyes out because I was so scared and nervous and just not in a good place mentally. But now…..” It’s hard for you to fully explain all of the wonderful emotions coursing through your body. “I’m doing the same thing but for entirely different reasons.” Your hand goes to your stomach as you look up and tell her with the happiest voice. “I’m pregnant.”

————

It’ll take a couple days for the results of your pregnancy test to come back, as explained by Dr. Young, whom you already love and trust to assist you through your pregnancy. 

But, you don’t need test results to confirm what you already know.

There’s not a doubt in your mind that you’re pregnant, and that thought alone is enough to bring you to tears. It’s why you’ve been sitting in your car for almost half an hour just crying. Tears of joy, of course.

The first and only thing you want to do is call Joe. You want to tell him with everything in you.

But…..

You can’t.

Not yet anyway.

He was deprived of so much with Callie, lost out on so many special moments. You can’t do the same with this pregnancy. You need to make this as special for him as possible, from the moment he finds out to the moment he holds this new baby for the first time.

It’s why you know that you can’t tell a soul. Not Alexis. Not your mom. Not even Callie. 

Joe was the last to find out before, but he’ll damn sure be the first to find out this time. 

It’s also why you make the somewhat difficult to keep Callie out of the loop too. A part of you thinks it could be sweet to have her help you break the news to him, but you also don’t want to deprive him of telling Callie with you.

So, you decide that this has to be a solo venture.

The first thing you need to figure out is the timeline. Figure out when you can go see Joe to tell him in person, because with WrestleMania right around the corner, there’s no way he’ll be back here before then. You and Dr. Young predict you’re about 10 weeks along, which means you’ll be hitting three months in less than a month. That works out good, because you were about four months pregnant with Callie before you started showing, so there’s some grace there.

Granted, it is a little odd that you’ve already gained the amount of weight you have given you’re not even three months along…..

The phone ringing pulls you from your thoughts. The ringtone tells you it’s Alexis before you even look at the phone. 

It takes a second for you to gather yourself, knowing her perceptive ass will pick up on something right away if you don’t. Three deep breaths help you to feel adequately prepared before you hit answer. “Hey girl. I’m on my—”

“I swear to God, Y/N, I’m literally going to kill that bitch! I don’t even fucking care anymore! I’m going to prison!”

You’re used to Alexis being dramatic and over the top, but there’s an unfamiliar level of alarm in her voice. “Lex, wait, slow down. What are you talking about?”

She pauses on the other end of the phone. “Fuck. You don’t know yet, do you?” She curses. "Damn, I figured you did by now, considering my phone has been going off with notifications from all the major news outlets the past hour."

Your throat suddenly feels dry. “Know what?” She doesn’t say anything, so you snap, “know what, Alexis!”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone followed by her directing, “go to TMZ. Right now.”

Your panic instantly melts away. Alexis and her damn obsessiveness over pop culture. 

Sucking your teeth, you laugh and shake your head. “Girl, you are so dramatic. Had me thinking something happened.” Switching to speaker, you open up your browser and start to type. “This better not be about the housewives, cause…..” Your voice stops and stomach drops when the splash screen loads, allowing you to read the headline.

A headline that includes a picture of you and Callie. 

TMZ EXCLUSIVE: WWE SUPERSTAR ROMAN REIGNS LONG-TERM MISTRESS AND ALLEGED LOVE CHILD 

Click for pictures and videos! Read the scathing story and watch the exclusive tell all interview with mistress childhood friend!

[marleyybluu]

Boy, Bye

Spooky x black!fem!reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: 18+, smut central (with plot), flirting, mentions of drinking and drug use (relax it's just weed), smoking and driving (but don't be this stupid), Spooky being a nervous boy at the end, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap that bitch up we don't need any more crotch goblins jk), creampie because I'm a sick bitch, Spanish nicknames as usual, probably misspelling bcus I was high as shit writing this. lmk if i missed anything

A/N: This was inspired by Boy, Bye by Ari Lennox, her album age/sex/location is a banger I have rediscovered it and the idea hit me like a brick. I do wanna say I don't mention the readers skin tone or anything but she is a black woman bcus i mentioned a fresh set of braids. and black women should be the only ones wearing box braids, wigs, etc... in case yall forgot :)

Not my gif.

The distinct chatter of club patrons droned out of your ears as a persistent ringing replaced it. You sat at the bar, your back turned to counter and your elbows planted firmly on the surface. Just minding your business. Drinking your rum and coke.

"You look sweet like mangoes." A very hot and unwarranted breath invaded your space and it was a reminder as to why you didn't want to come out in the first place. Men were gross, they ruined everything with catcalls and what they think are sweet pickup lines. You turned your head to look at him, he flashed a drunken smile— his teeth crooked and filled with whatever he'd eaten before he got here. You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to the crowd.

He wasn't the first to approach you tonight, especially since you dispersed from your group to sit at the bar, your feet killing you from the stupid but cute heels you wore. "Sweet like mangoes huh?" You reiterated. He nodded leaning in closer as you leaned away. "Yeah. I know."

The man chuckled at your lack of a 'thank you.'

"Now why are you acting like that? Hm? A man can't get to know you?"

You wrapped your lips around your straw and sipped obnoxiously but he wasn't budging. "A man whose leftovers aren't in his teeth can get to know me." You bit. The man leaned back in disbelief, your comment seemingly sobering him up. "Well, fuck you then bitch."

You raised your glass. "You wish you could." That added fuel to the fire and he stormed off like a pissed off toddler. You smiled taking the last sip of your drink, turning around to place it on the bar, you needed a bit of time before you ordered another, might be the last before you go home. You hopped off the stool and grabbed your purse heading to the restroom, surprisingly there was no line but a few girls were hogging the vanity reapplying whatever makeup had come off. You shuffled inside the small stall and propped your purse on the hook of the door.

Once you were done handling business the women had disappeared and you had the sink to yourself, you washed your hands and dried them off with the paper towels provided, and you checked yourself out flipping your fresh braids to the side finding that was cuter than just having a middle part. When you were satisfied you headed back out putting a little pop in your hips. On your way back to your spot you noticed a man, a young man maybe about your age, sitting in on the seat next to yours. You shrugged and headed over anyway hopping back up without saying a word.

You pulled out your phone and noticed a notification from the group chat, one of the girls asking if you were okay and where were you. As you typed you remained oblivious to the stranger next to you, unaware of the little glances that he took at you. He tipped his head back as he drank from his Corona, you sighed putting your phone down. "You're good?" He asked, genuinely, to your surprise. You looked over at him and nodded. Your eyes analyzed whatever you could see in the shitty and low lighting. The first thing you noticed was the shaved head, not really your thing but it was cute on him, his bushy eyebrows raised in interest watching you examine him. He sported a small moustache and a goatee, the sides were clean-shaven, his slim and aquiline nose complimented him as well and with a nose like that, you wondered how the rides were on that face.

"Can I get you a drink?" He asked breaking the silence, you'd accept it, telling him thanks and allowing him to wave over the bartender. You remembered seeing a whiskey sour on the little drink menu and ordering that while he ordered another Corona. He smiled at you, his cheeks so high it made his eyes squint, and you tugged at your bottom lip. "Don't worry I don't have any corny ass pickup lines like the rest of these putos." He reassured. You playfully dismissed him. "Eh, they aren't so bad." Lies.

He turned himself in the stool, his whole body facing you-- one leg on the footrest of the seat and the other on the floor. Your eyes involuntarily dropped down to his lap and quickly back up to his eyes. "Yeah? So, how come you pushed 'em all away?"

He'd been watching you?

"'Cause none of them bought me a drink." You flirted. "Oooh, so that's why I haven't gotten dissed yet?"

You shrugged. "Maybe."

"I can respect that."

Your drinks arrived and you thanked the bartender. He raised his bottle. "Salud."

"Salud." You copied. You took a sip and shook your head, damn that really is sour. He snorted at the way your face contorted. "Don't like it?"

"Didn't expect it to be that sour."

"I could get you a different drink."

You passed. "It's okay, I can handle it. Plus I wouldn't want one of your little girlfriends seeing you buy me more than one drink."

He rolled his eyes bringing his drink to his lip, "No girlfriends over here."

"Surprised."

"Why?"

You set your whiskey sour down and boldly stated, "You're way too fine to be alone." He turned his head away from you, a warm feeling spreading across his face but he couldn't let you see it. "Thanks, mamita." He responded turning back to your direction. "You sure your man won't fight me for buying you one? 'Cause I can put up a good fight cariño."

You tilted your head to the side, smitten. "No boyfriend's over here."

"Good to know."

— — Your once drastic and boring night was starting to look upward. Spooky, you found out to be his name, was good conversation. Yeah, he threw a corny line here and there but you actually liked them coming from him, he wasn't trying too hard he was just being playful.

Your eyes landed on the imprint on his neck, a crucifix tilted on its side with the name Santos etched down the middle. "Los Santos... hm are you?"

"Am I what?"

You leaned into him your hand finding its way to the side of his neck and gently dragging your nails on his inked skin. "A saint."

His eyes focused more on your lips. "More of a sinner." He mumbled. You giggled tipsily. "Boy, bye."

The DJ had announced it was the last song of the night, you looked at your phone reading 3 AM, your plans to leave early had been disrupted in the best way. Spooky noticed your attention detour. "Ready to go home?"

You sighed now not wanting the night to end. "Guess so."

"I could drop you home."

Your eyes sharpened, you didn't know him... but, fuck, you liked him enough to almost agree to it. "I don't know if I want a sinner dropping me home."

He put his hand over yours, the contact sparked a warm feeling in your lower belly. He guided your palm to his chest. "I'll be a saint,cielito, don't worry."

You laughed wholeheartedly. "That was so fucking lame."

"Made you laugh though."

It did.

You agreed to take the ride and while he paid for the drinks you texted the group:

Y/n: got a ride home ;) I'll talk to you bitches tomorrow.

They gassed you up for any potential activity tonight and hoped that you'd get home safely. Spooky got off first and held his hand out to help you down, he didn't let go as he led you through the crowd, he met up with the boys you assumed he came with and dapped them up with his free hand, his other one never letting go of yours.

Soon, you two were out the door, you lowkey stumbled through the parking lot, alcohol and heels were never a good combo. He helped you though. And you two arrived in front a Red Impala, your mouth twitched with fascination. "Nice car." You blurted out. "Thanks ma, worked on it myself."

"Damn, he's cute and a mechanic? You sure no one is crazy over you?"

He opened the door for you. "No, just you."

"I'm not crazy, yet." You pointed before sliding inside. He closed your door and headed over to his side. Your body was full of tingles, the feeling reaching your toes but you didn't know if it was the buzz from your drink or if it was him. Either way, you were enjoying this.

Spooky pulled off. You sighed and smiled lazily throwing your head back, you were floating— your body felt like it was flying through space. "You smoke?" He asked, you heard a lighter flicker and you shook your head. "I do, but I can't take anything else right now."

He shrugged and inhaled the THC, he reached for the dial on his stereo and turned up the volume, the music he was playing earlier resuming its beat. Sierra Leone by Frank Ocean serenaded your ears. "I love this song."

You hummed along to the slow tune. Spooky caught you in the corner of his eye, he smiled. He enjoyed the show and the company until he pulled up to your neighbourhood and into your driveway. You groaned, did he really have to go?

You notice him turn the car off. "You're not coming inside you know."

He smirked. "Don't worry, I'm just taking you to the door at least."

You slightly frowned, he left you for a few seconds before your door opened and he offered his hand once again. You successfully landed on your feet, your hand moulded with his and now it was your turn to lead him. Up the steps. You fumbled with your keys until you found the correct one, you felt nervous under his gaze. Those low eyelids undressing you, you just knew it. Your key slid into the slot and turned it unlocking your door. "Thanks... for the ride."

"No problem, ma." You looked up as he towered over you. His energy pulled you in, you were drunk but you weren't that drunk. Maybe he could come in for a little bit.

— — Clothes spread across your bedroom floor, the sheets sliding off the bed like melted cheese. You two were in a tangle of limbs, naked bodies pressed against each other, his nose brushed yours as he planted the softest kiss on your lips. Your hands flew to his flushed cheeks pulling him in with eagerness and at the same time, his slender finger running over your blue panties. You smiled against his lips. His kisses were so warm and passionate. 

He used his fingers to tug at your panties, hauling them to the side. You whined feeling him run them between your wet folds, collecting and salivating your juices. He toyed with your clit, slowly and steadily, your hips bucking up to chase his touch. Ending your short misery a finger entered your heat, you gasped in the middle of your kiss and your eyebrows knitted together, your face reading 'finally.' You smiled hazily against his lips once he pulled it out and plunged back in with an additional finger. "Fuuuuck."

He skillfully curled his fingers up hitting that spongey spot, that sweet spot. You squirmed under him with pleasure and anticipation... desperation, for more. You sat up on your elbows looking down and seeing his fingers work their magic on you, your mouth fell open, pushing your hips forward once again. You just wanted more.

You looked back up at him. "You're so pretty when you make that face, cariño." He complimented. The heel of his hand brushed against your pulsing clit, you clenched around his fingers causing a smirk to appear on his face. "S-shit, please."

"Please what mi amor?"

For once, you were in no mood for foreplay, you were very slick and sticky with arousal. "Just fuck me, please."

He smiled shaking his head at your earnest request, he continued his teasing assault on your sweet spot, his lips connecting to your neck, your eyes rolling at the immense pleasure you were receiving. Your hand on the back of his neck holding him in place. "Yes... oh... yes!" He was pulling your orgasm closer and closer, your hips raised off the mattress. "I thought you just said you wanted me to fuck you?"

"I-I do."

"Doesn't seem like it now." He evilly chuckled. The sound of your pussy juice and your frantic whimpers went straight to his dick, his growing erection poking at your leg. "I'm gonna cum." You wept. Spooky slowly pulled out his fingers leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, you groaned glaring at him. He winked wrapping his lips around the fingers that were just inside you, he licked off your essence until his fingers were clean. You giggled dropping your head on the pillow.

Spooky pulled off his boxers and his dick sprung out with a wet thud once the tip hit his lower abdomen, fuck he was so hard, you drooled at the sight spreading your legs further apart. He wrapped his hand around his girth sliding his tip between your soaked folds before carefully pushing his length inside you. Your voice broke at the feeling of him against your gummy walls, enveloping every inch he had to give you. Your bottom lip finds comfort between your teeth, your head tipped back and your toes curled. His sack hits your ass as he bottomed out. Filled you to the brim.

Spooky held his position, enjoying the feeling of you wrapped around him. His warm hands find solace on the back of your thighs, sliding up to the crook of your knee. You felt as he pushed your legs back, your knees touching your chest. He pulled his hips back and pushed them forward flush against your pelvis his coarse curly hair at the base of his shaft brushing against your clit, an additional sensation. 

Your hands wrapped around his wrists as he rocked into you, giving you strokes you've never felt in your life. Your mouth fell open, breathless whispers leaving your throat, egging him on about how well he stretched you, how full you felt with him inside you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! That feels so-o good." 

Spooky smirked looking down at you, your various love faces so beautiful being contorted with pleasure. He leaned down, your legs now planted on his shoulders, he kissed your nose and then forehead before pressing his against it. There was a mix of sounds-- his grunting, your erotic moans and the sound of skin on skin bounced off the walls, if you lived in an apartment they'd probably knock on the wall to complain. 

You could feel yourself leaking, dripping, onto the sheets and coating his dick in your desire. "You're so fucking pretty when you're taking me, princesa. Eres muy guapa." He groaned, your head fell back, your high carefully approaching once again. Your nails left crescent shapes on his skin. "Shit! I like being inside you, you're so fucking wet, bebita." 

Your walls constantly fluttered around him. He hissed and you smirked. "I know you feel that, fuck, I'm gonna cum for you." 

His hand slipped between sweaty bodies, his fingers finding your clit once again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, his teeth nibble at your jaw. "Right there! Uh-huh, right fucking there!" Spooky pounded into you, hard yet maintaining rhythm. Your eyes are glossy with incoming tears, the overstimulation of it all. "Fucking squeeze me, mamita. I got you, cum on this dick." 

His words tip you over and your body tenses up and your eyes fall into the pit of your skull. He felt every pulsation of your orgasm, his tip constantly hitting your spot. He held up his weight, his hands rested on your lower back fingers gripping your ass cheeks. His thrusts became sloppier as he helped your ride out your orgasm and his quickly approaching. "Oh my god," You hazily giggle. "Fuck! Yeah, use me to get yourself off, please. Cum wherever you want, baby, give it to me." 

Spooky pushed in one more time, you faintly smiled at the feeling of his warm spend squirting inside of you. You were both out of breath, Spooky leaned back and sat on his knees with his softening dick still buried inside you. He helped take your legs off his shoulder and you mumbled in pain. "Shit... I mean I didn't expect you to actually fold me." 

He laughed. "I said I was gonna do it." He spoke in reference to his warning earlier when you lured him into your house. He leaned down once again to give you an affectionate kiss. "You feeling okay?" 

"More than okay." You confessed. "Good," He kissed your nose before pulling out, you almost pouted at the loss. "You're okay if I grab some water?" 

You nodded telling him there were bottles in the fridge, he shot you a thumbs up and put on his boxers before he left, once he was out of your sight you let out a big sigh of relief and a very bright smile was sure to follow. You felt so giddy, butterflies were making their home in your nervous system. What the fuck was this feeling? 

Spooky grabbed two bottles and made his way back upstairs, offering you one. You thanked him and sat up as carefully as you could. You caught a prideful smirk on his face. "Don't start." You warned him, he put his hands up in defence. 

"What are you doing tomorrow?" He asked out of the blue. "Not much, why?" 

"Uh, I'm not one to overstep my boundaries and it's up to you,  really, but do you want to get something to eat?" 

You nodded. "Of course. Any places in mind?" 

"There's a... breakfast bar... downtown." He sounded more nervous with that statement. You blushed. "Breakfast? Oh, so you want to spend the night with me, Spooky?" 

He suddenly felt like an idiot, he was very much a one-night stand or a friends-with-benefits person but with you, he kind of wanted to see if this could go somewhere. "If that's cool with you." 

You set your bottle down on the nightstand, you smiled propping yourself up on your hands and knees. You crawl over to him and kiss his temple, you go down to nibble his ear and whisper; "If you keep fucking me like that, I just might have to keep you." 

He shivered, his dick jumped at the thought alone. Quickly the roles were reversed back his fingers intertwined with yours as he put you on your back. 

"I better get to work then."

If you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic. comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

peace and love, see you in the next one.

🏷: @darqchilddaydreamz @skyesthebomb @realhotgurlshit

if i'm missing any tags or if you'd like to be tagged in any upcoming fics let your girl know.

[angelofsmalldeaath]

to be alone — a.h.b.

cw: very borderline smut but not really, suggestive, fluff

“shh, go back to sleep.” i feel the bed dip in the wee hours of the morning, his voice a hoarse whisper. it’s a dream, my sleep-addled brain tells me, it’s another dream fueled by loneliness and missing him and being so so cold every night. it’s—

“baby?”

“hmm?”

“you’re not cold, are you?” he slides in behind me, still fully clothed. his soft, worn jeans rubs against my thigh. a second later, he drapes a sweater covered arm over me. “you’ve got goosebumps.”

“you’re a dream,” i mumble, sleep coating each word. his deep laugh resonates all around me, surrounding me like a warm blanket. 

“am i?” he kisses the shell of my ear. “how do you know?”

sleep threatens to take me under once again in the comfort of his arms. his soft sweater is familiar—just the tiniest bit fuzzy, smelling exactly like it always does; of his cologne and fabric softener and him. i smile to myself, this is so far the most realistic dream my brain has produced. 

“hey,” he kisses my shoulder, sending butterflies fluttering in my stomach. 

“you’re a dream…” i repeat, “because i’ve had this dream before.”

“oh yeah?” i feel myself being pulled into a chest—so solid and real and warm. his fingers dance on my arms, from my shoulder to my elbow and back up, tickling just a little—not enough to fully wake me up, but definitely enough to hold me there, suspended in a limbo between sleep and consciousness. “what happens in your dream?”

“you come into my bed…”

“like this?” the smile in his voice is prominent. 

“mm-hmm,” i nod and turn, eyes closed, face burrowed into his chest now. his scent surrounds me stronger than before, with new things added to it—faint smell of coffee and the outdoors in general. 

it’s a dream it’s a dream it’s a dream, i chant in my head over and over again till the words meld into each other and turn gibberish. 

“and then?” his voice cuts through my spiral. 

“and then you hold me.”

“i am holding you…” i feel him nod, and yet his arms tighten, pulling me deeper into his chest. the next time he speaks, i feel the vibrations of his voice running through my chest, passing through my heart. 

“and then?”

instead of answering, i focus on his fingers—up and down, up and down. from my shoulders to my elbow and back up.

“sometimes you touch me,” i breathe into his chest, “other times you hold me until i wake up.”

my voice is muffled, barely audible. it’s alright, though. he’s just a dream, a figment of my imagination, a part of me. how could he ever not understand me?

“i touch you?” he laughs, a little smug, and i nod. “how do i touch you?”

i take his hand in mine, trace the pads of his fingers. then i place his hand under my camisole—rough fingers touching my ribs, tracing them individually. he reaches the bottom of my breasts and i sigh. “you touch me like that. like you do when you’re really here…”

“baby i am really here!” he laughs, kissing my head this time. his thumb moves in circles over my ribs. “open your eyes, ‘m right here.”

“‘s a trick,” i mumble. a moment later my mouth finds the hollow of his throat. his skin is slightly cold to the touch, halfway to warming up. against my lips i feel some stubble, like he hasn’t shaved his neck in a day or two. “you’ll disappear if i open my eyes. and i want you to stay. i miss you…” i say, “i can’t wait two more days till you’re home.”

“you don’t have to,” he laughs, giggles almost—it’s a giddy, breathless sound that makes me smile too. 

“you’re a good dream,” i hold onto him tight, relishing how solid he feels in my arms. “the best dream i’ve ever had.”

his hand slips out of my camisole and cradles my cheek. then i feel him tilting my chin up, feel his lips on mine—just one tiny, soft kiss. he smiles against my mouth, says something too but the words don’t fully register in my mind. 

“i’ll see you soon,” i murmur, properly sleepy now, unable to hold on for much longer. 

“you will,” his voice holds a promise. “go to sleep now, i can’t wait to see you in the morning.”

i chuckle at his words. just before sleep properly drags me under, i place my hand on his cheek, feel the familiar beard under my palm and hear him hum. “and you’ll be here in the morning?” i tease, “will you be here as a daydream?”

he threads his fingers through my hair, playing with it till it’s impossible to hold onto consciousness. just as i’m about to slip under, i hear him exhale. “as anything you want me to be,” he murmurs, and i succumb to sleep.

[luvv4j4ybe11]

just a silly little thought but can i request the sully brothers each reacting to the reader having a bush? 👀 i never see this often written!

Tbh…tbh….i had to write this bc it was brewin in my head ever since i saw that you sent this in, nonnie😭

(Also, I’d just like to say that if this makes you uncomfortable just simply unfollow me/keep scrolling/wtv you need to do to not feel like that. What you read is NOT under my control. Just had to say that before I continue☺️💕)

Dividers by: @cafekitsune

Warnings: p in v, reader as a bush (duh), switch dynamics, degradation, praise, aged up! Neteyam, aged up! Lo’ak, cum play, mentions of impregnation, cunnilingus, and I think that’s it. Enjoy, babies<3 (btw this isn’t proofread, so if there’s errors I apologize!)

- Neteyam wouldn’t care at all, if anything he finds it more attractive than when you don’t shave

- will purposely eat you out for hoursss because the feeling of your thighs + the little curly hairs rubbing against his face drives him crazy

- also is soo notorious for insisting to cum inside of you/cum directly onto your pussy, because he just loves the mess it makes. The sight of his and your own cum covering your tired cunt and thighs makes him wanna breed you untill it takes. (RAHH NETEYAM WITH A BREEDING KINK😩)

- loves to cup your pussy in his big ass hand, and he’ll slowly slide a finger inside of you while he shushes and coos a mixture of praises and degradation. Especially if you try to push away from him because of embarrassment of the little patch of hairs you have adorning your precious cunt.

“Awh, babygirl, why are you gettin all shy now? You were too shy when you were begging for me to cum inside of you, like the little slut you are...or when you see begging for me to stretch your tiny pussy out with my cock…you know there’s no need to feel embarrassed around me, babygirl. I love you endlessly.”

- also is so obsessed with how much your natural scent is increased when you don’t shave, so whenever he eats you out he’s always in a trance because of it. He won’t stop untill you physically cannot anymore(but even then he’ll pry another one out of u☺️)

- will purposely fuck you in missionary because he loves watching the strings of the both of your juices sticking to his lower abdomen that connect to your pussy. It’s just more fuel for him to breed you.

- regardless tho, he loves you and your body (+more) unconditionally and will support anything you choose to do with it<3

- now, Lo’ak, is a frl menace when it comes to this (but what else is new😭)

- mf will deadass tell you not to shave bc he finds your bush so attractive

- and if you do he’ll be so pissy about it😭one time you did he didn’t talk to you for 2 days bc he was so mad, (and you made fun of him for it once he finally came back bc he was acting like a child😭)

- whenever you’re feeling insecure about it/your body in general he’ll be stuck to your side all day, never leaving your body untouched and never leaving your mind with a doubt. He’ll be stuck between your legs for hours while telling you how beautiful you are and how pretty your body is.

- also js is such a munch in general, he’ll always beg to taste you before he leaves your side. And when he actually gets to it, babyboy gets so needy and whiney:( poor boy is slurping and sucking at your over sensitive clit while his cock is twitching and drooling with precum, so much that it leaves a little puddle on the floor:(

- and if you tug his hair whenever he hits your sweet spot, the neediest whine will come from him. It startled you at first, but when you looked down at him you were met with the most pathetic little face ever, his ears were pinned to his skull, face completely covered in your slick, lips all puffy, eyes all lust hazed and needy, and let’s not forget how much his tail would be swaying and wrapping around any body part of yours it can grab. He’s like an excited little puppy when it comes to going down on you, he can’t help it:(

- a bonus if you hit him with the hair tug + praise combo(and if you wrap your thighs around his head extra tight☺️) bc he’ll be complete putty in your hands. All kinda of desperate whines and moans will come from him as he makes you cum for the 5th time that night.

- he gets so whiney too, he’ll constantly beg you for “just one more” when you know you’re too overstimulated

“I know you can give me one more, mama. You don’t even have to do anything, I’ll do all the work, ok? Please just gimme one more…please, mama?”

- also will purposely fuck you in mating press/missnonary because he loves how your slick will stick to his v line and connects him back to your cunt

- when you two are done and you’re both ready to go to sleep, he always ends up fucking your thighs lightly, and always makes sure to rub between your folds with his length js so he can tease you and bc of the feeling of the little curly hairs rubbing against his tip makes him dizzy with pleasure

- besides all of that tho, he loves you no matter what, and whatever you choose to do with your body he’ll support ( just give him two days)

A/N~ I almost wasn’t even gonna post this bc I lost the whole fucking thing the first time, but I did it!! Tbh it was nice to write smth that wasn’t the fics I’ve been working on, so ty nonnie for sending this in!! And I hope this is everything you hoped and dreamed for😭 bc I kinda felt like I was talking out my ass the whole time. ANYWAY! stay safe, and stay hydrated, love you babies<3

Duces🫶🏽,

luvv4j4ybe11

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Taglist~ @tallulah477 @hotdsworld @plooto @blue-slxt @itchaboi-itchyboy @xylianasblog @etherial-moon-blog @criticallybella @professional-yapper

(If you’d like to be added to my general taglist or removed js lmk!! And if your tag isn’t working, check your settings💕.)

[waklman]

Glue Song (Pt. 1)

summary: jake tries to keep your existence out of rooster’s knowledge. (friends to lovers, pining)

pairing: jake seresin x female reader

warnings: negative self talk

a/n: haven’t wrote in awhile but glue song by beabadoobee and tgm brought me back...ugh i can't i love pining jake.

word count: 2.5k

next part

“I respect the guy, but he is out of his damn mind.” You watch as Jake momentarily pauses his rambling to take another chug of the latte you brewed for him. 

“Maverick must’ve hit his head while landing during the last mission. Yeah, that must be why.” he concludes, almost entertaining himself, imagining all the ways the old guy could have begun to lose his sanity.

If Jake wasn’t so annoyed, he would have laughed at the made up scenarios playing out in his head. And of course, voicing them to you afterwards so you could laugh with him.

Noticing that some of the neatly decorated whip cream from his drink had found a new home on his freshly shaved face, you wet your hands in the sink and mindlessly reached over the kitchen island to wipe at his sticky chin. 

He blinks back at you, the annoyed expression on his face faltering at your touch.

“There was whip cream on your face. You hate when things get on your skin.” you carefully whisper, pulling your hands back to begin cleaning the dishes again. 

Worry began to brew in your stomach, you might’ve crossed a boundary. 

After processing what happens, Jake just hums, pursing his lips at you in thanks.

Your body unravels at the notion, the tense muscles of your shoulders relaxing itself.

Jake watches you intently, eyes scanning over every detail of you. 

There is a beat of silence as you two acknowledge each other. Your eyes meet in silent conversation. So touching Jake’s face was allowed, you two had agreed without having to say a thing to each other. 

As if nothing happened, Jake regains his posture and furrows his eyebrows together once more, signaling that he’s ready to continue his stream of complaints–this becoming a new routine for you two on weekends where you are both off from work. 

You couldn’t help but to smile to yourself in moments like these. Moving to San Francisco on your own was not an easy decision. Stability has always been something you craved, even if it meant not putting yourself first. But it quickly wore you out with time. You had a job you were unhappy with, shitty friends who you had kept around for the sake of having a social life, essentially trading in your sanity for the sake of stability. The knowledge that this might be how your life would span out, left you disoriented. 

That one fateful summer was when you had decided it was time for a change, despite the fact it made you sick to your stomach to do something so sudden, especially all on your own. But, maybe a new location is just what you needed. 

When you first arrived, reality hit you like a truck. All you felt was immense regret, you had no friends, you’re making less money now, and you didn’t know your way around San Diego at all. This wasn’t something you were used to, causing the doubts of your rash decision to eat at you whenever you had a moment to think to yourself. You should’ve never done this. 

And as if your guardian angel saw your internal struggle, they sent Jake on your trail to ease all of it. All it took was his odd obsession with the way you specifically made his vanilla lattes, to keep him around—following your every move like he was tethered to you. 

After a while Jake found himself not only sticking around for your applaudable barista skills, because there was you. Jake never realized he could possibly laugh so hard that it hurt until he started talking to you during his morning coffee runs. Before you, he had always thought that was just an expression–how was it possible to laugh that hard? And like any other guilty pleasure Jake had, he couldn’t help himself in indulging in you, not wanting to share you with anyone else. 

After flight training, he’d unconsciously rush out of the locker rooms without saying goodbye to anyone in order to catch you after your shift. Just so he could walk you to your car as he accidentally bumps into you outside. 

And as the weeks flew by, your shared activities quickly branched out from just friendly morning chats and Jake walking you to your car. 

Now you found yourself spending weekends with him, where you had continued to make his coffee for him, but now just inside in the comfort of your own apartment. Playful conversations were had every morning, with you behind the counter and him seated across from you grinning ear to ear from hearing your laughter that he evoked from you. This became permanently ingrained into both your weekly routines. His excuse being that he can’t physically survive if you weren’t the one making him his morning coffee, so he obviously has to come see you every weekend. It was a no brainer, he told you. 

“He is ridiculous.” he affirms once more before bringing his lips back around the rim, being more careful to not get his drink onto his face this time.

Although it might have seemed like he was rambling to himself, you had been nodding and quietly reacting to every statement he made thus far–assuring him that you were paying attention to him. 

“That's funny, coming from the guy who was growing a whip cream beard one second ago.” you inquired.

“When did you stop being so nice to me?” he sulked, something he was specifically raised to never do. His father would have had a stroke if he knew his 30 year old son was habitually sulking now. But it couldn’t be helped, you drew out new behaviors from him, that he never felt ashamed about doing. 

“If I knew you were like this, I would have never pestered you at work in the first place.” Though, Jake knew that if his day had been reset from the first day you two met, he’d undoubtedly pester you every single time. 

“That’s too bad, isn't it?” You flicker some water on your finger tips at him. 

“Hey, watch it missy.” he flinches, bringing a protective palm to hover over his drink. 

“So, let me get this clear-” you redirected the conversation back to its original course. 

Jake quickly shifts his attention away from the state of his drink and back to you. 

“So Maverick..” he nods, confirming that you got his callsign right. 

“...wants you and your co-worker Rooster to spend time together outside of work. At least once a week?” you cautiously recall what he told you.

“Yeah, isn’t that horrible?” he puffs his chest in defiance, expecting you to readily agree with him. 

“Can’t be that bad though, right? Shouldn’t you two be working on becoming good friends, especially now that your dagger squad is an official detachment now? You’ll be seeing a lot of each other from now on.” you expressively shared your final thoughts with him.

He silently watches you rinse off the dishes as he soaks in what you said, with his brows pinched tightly together. You were right, he knew that. 

“We get along fine, we’re kind of cool with each other after that first mission. Why be best buds?” he deflects. 

“I want you to have more friends, Jake. Give it a shot.” you attempt to encourage him, while placing his dishes onto the drying rack carefully.

“I have you and Javy.” 

“But you can also have Rooster. And who knows, maybe everyone else on the squad too.” you offered up with a smile. 

“I have a week to plan our first bonding session.” Jake threw up his fingers in two sarcastic quotes. 

“Cute. So like a date?” 

You grinned widely watching Jake’s face fall flat. 

“God. Please.” he scoffs, trying to fight off the smile making its way onto his face. 

“Never call it a date, I’m begging you angel.” Oh. The endearment slipped from his mouth and Jake looked slightly mortified. 

Well, it’s not like you weren’t an angel in his eyes anyways, he thought.

Ignoring the flush of heat rushing to your ears, you attempt to casually brush over what he said. 

“How about. I lend you a hand, just this once.” Jake’s ear almost perks at your statement, instantly recovering from his slip up.

“I’ll set something up for you two down at the shop after I close up, all you have to do is show up.”

“Only question is, if you trust me enough with something like that.” 

Of course I do, he thinks. 

Jake wishes he could extract the part of your brain that made you doubt yourself so much. The blond couldn’t think of anything he wouldn't trust you with. And he’d seen you do it so often–second guess yourself, and he hated it. He hated how it made him feel–sick at the thought that you could possibly not believe in yourself. 

“If I didn’t, would I be sitting here defenseless at your place?” He flashes his dimples at you in a reassuring smile. 

Adoration fills you completely at the sight of him, his tousled morning hair and the creases set under his eyes, marked by his smile makes you glad you decided to take residency here. This feels right, Fightertown feels right. He feels right.

“You’re lucky my love language is acts of service, Jacob Seresin.”

“Mine is physical touch.”

“Gross.” 

“Don’t believe me? Come here.” he raises his brows teasingly, getting up from his seat, making his way towards you. 

“No. Stay back.” you panic, swatting away his already outstretched arms. 

“So…what do we think?” you were basically jittering from where you stood, a poor attempt at holding back your overflowing excitement. 

The two naval aviators stood side by side in front of you, almost mirroring each other perfectly. Expressions unreadable, hands on their hips, lips pursed and side eyeing each other—urging the other to speak first. Javy directs Jake to say something first by lifting his chin at him as Jake deadpans his best friend in response.

Between you and the pair of pilots sat a small table you manage to drag in the center of the cafe with a candle flickering in the center, surrounded by an array of chocolate croissants that you knew Jake had an insatiable craving for. The rest of the table was cramped with random assortments of new Valentines recipes you had been testing–and who better to try them than your reliable Jake and his new friend that you would assume to be in equal size as him. 

And how could he possibly crush your excitement and tell you this looks absolutely terrifying, and that he would rather do 300 pushups under the unforgiving sun than sit at this romantic table and feast on your heart shaped cookies with the likes of Rooster. 

“Well,” Coyote begins, not noticing the pointed glare Jake shoots at him. 

Jake observes you begin to shrink in front of his eyes at Javy’s tone and immediately slaps his palm over his friend’s mouth, panicked at what he’ll start to say. 

Javy stiffens, shocked that his germophobic friend had even put his hand on his face, recalling all the times Jake complained that Javy should start using cleanser for his “oily” skin. Jake even once swore he would rather eat dirt than touch Javy’s face after seeing sweat drip down his face after their first morning run together. 

“It's perfect” he swallows back any sign of hesitancy under your careful gaze.

You know he’s lying for your sake. Although he sounds sure, you could see the prominent vein in his neck protrude, a tell tale sign that he’s feeling pressured. 

“Jake..” the uncertainty in your voice makes him want to double over. Your shoulders have already slumped, his eyes frantically watching as your cardigan start to slip down your arms, exposing your bare shoulders. 

Javy’s mouth parts as he watches Jake take a big step over to you, gently pulling the sleeves of your knit cardigan up to your shoulder blades again. His hands slowly moving down to your wrist, nervously playing with the cuffs of your sleeves. 

Javy’s heart briefly swells at the sentiment, but he knows what he has to do. Jake would thank him for this later, he hopes. 

Although Jake has to be the most horrifyingly fearless pilot Javy knows, when it boils down to situations like these–he knows his best friend needs a push in the right direction or else he’ll never take the leap of faith. 

Javy pulls himself together.

“Admit that you hate it, Hangman” he speaks up, interrupting the moment.

Bewildered, Jake snaps his neck to face Javy from where he stood in front of you. 

“I do not hate it.” his southern accent is now present from being provoked. 

Javy feels glad for once that Jake is so stubborn. 

“So you’ll happily sit here with Rooster?”

“Yes.” He answers almost immediately.

“Can we join you too?” Javy quickly shoots the question.

“Of course” he answers, right away.

Javy practically glows at the sight of Jake’s eyes shooting wide open, caught off guard by his own reply. 

“Perfect. Rooster can hang with all of us.” Javy proudly grins. 

Something unfamiliar swirls at the pit of his stomach. You, Javy, and him hanging out? Sure. That's fine, as long as he sits between you two. But You, Javy, him, and Rooster? It’s unpredictable. 

When a bird flies straight into his jet unexpectedly, he can handle that–he can predict the outcome. When his jet is jeering towards a canyon and his eject button doesn't work, that’s fine he can predict his next move to get out safely. But the idea of you and Rooster in the same room makes his head spin out of control. Jake feels like his soul shifts out of his body for a moment.

“That’s a great idea Javy! Maybe we can sit in on this hangout so Jake is less nervous too.” you chime in, grabbing Jake’s hands sweetly, swinging them side to side to soothe his nerves. 

His head lowers to watch the way your small hands grip at his own calloused ones–playfully swinging your arms left to right in unison in the small space between the two of you. His eyes soften at the sight.

“I want to hear what you guys think of my new recipes too..” you add on, shyly smiling up at Jake–silently asking if that was okay with him. 

It's a done deal. He can’t take back what he says. Not when you're staring up at him like this, looking so tooth achingly sweet in his favorite white dress that you own.

“Yeah let’s do it..” he gulps.

thank you for reading, and as always-reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Ten: [The Potato Head Society & The Other Guy, Jarred?]

Summary: Jake helps you shave your head in hopes of keeping your power and control. Facing your own mortality makes you question your faith in a higher authority and Jensen and Jake met for the first, and what you hope, will be the last time.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion

Word Count: 4.2K

Author Note: It's no secret I've been having a little bit of a rough go on this hell-site as of late. But I'm still here, working on this series. Seeing your weblogs, comments and concepts truly mean the world to me. so please, don't be hesitant to share.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“My only real advice for this kind of thing is this.” Jensen sighed as he stood on the steps of his townhouse with you. Coffee in one hand, end of life brochure in the other. Things had taken a rather drastic turn for him in the last few days. After your birthday, his health started to drastically diminish–so much so that his doctors weren’t too sure how much time there was left to combat the cancerous cells spreading through his body. “Go right through it.” Jensen smiled, never once did you ever see his positivity falter. “Like right through it, feel it all, be in it, don't avoid it because the moment you start avoiding it is when it's truly won.” 

Little Sammy held your hand as you stood next to Jensen–he was too young to understand that the man talking to you was dying, hell, you weren't even sure if you understood the significance of the pamphlet Jensen had picked up after your first CCA meeting. He’d told you it was for a friend, little did you know that friend was standing right in front of you. 

The Cancer Counseling Association held biweekly meetings at the hospital. You hadn’t planned on attending when your oncologist, Doctor Morrison, had first mentioned it. But when Jensen said he’d been going almost religiously for three years? You thought, what's the harm? 

The harm was it was depressing as fuck. 

“You go completely in the tough times, feel everything and get out the other end of it all.” You’d asked Jensen something along the lines of how he’d managed to keep fighting all this time and still be so positive about life and all its underwhelming rewards. He was for the most part, a happy guy despite it all. But even the strongest of soldiers have an achilles heel. 

Jensens just so happened to be the fact you were forbidden fruit, he wasn't about to tread on another man's toes. Especially when he was tiptoeing towards the sweet release of death's gentle hands. None of that stopped his heart from racing whenever you smiled though. 

“Many of these things you don't have a choice in.” Jensen continued as his eyes lingered down to little two year old Sammy who stood holding your hand in his. If anything you needed the encouragement to fight this battle for your children. “You know, fuck, whats that expression?” Jensen mulled it over as you chuckled, still standing on the path right outside his street facing townhouse. “Uhh–oh yeah! It's not how well you walked through the fire, but how you walked through it regardless.” 

“I think I'm just barely crawling through the flames right now–” You answered honestly. There wasn't a nice way to say he’d looked better than he did right now, with sunken eyes and skin that looked as if all the life had been drained from his soul. 

So you never mentioned it. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“So—“ The library wasn’t Jake Seresins favourite place to go, but there was someone who made the isles of hard covered literature easier to understand that always seemed to draw him in. Like a moth to a flame. “Did you have a good Christmas?” The silence that followed as you stared across the desk where you were processing returned textbooks had Jake's heart racing, he couldn’t read you and that fact made him all the more nervous. “Or not? If you’re Jewish maybe? Don’t celebrate Christmas that’s cool too I just thought—“ You had to giggle at the college football star standing across from the reception desk with his elbows leaning on the ledge. Your smile was pure happiness, it wasn’t hard to make Jake's heart melt inside his chest—a chest he once thought was hollow. 

“I had a wonderful Christmas, I went home to visit my mum, she always says that if the Christians can steal Christmas from the pagans then us non-religious folk can celebrate too.” You shrugged your shoulders politely as you kept checking off the returned textbooks from students who’d taken them home over the summer. 

“What do you mean when you say the Christians stole Christmas?” Jake Seresin grew up in an incredibly conservative, extremely religious household that attended church every Sunday rain hail or shine. Jake swore his mother nearly spontaneously combusted when he had to stay in hospital overnight after having his appendix removed. It was a Saturday afternoon when they’d presented to the emergency room—poor old Janeen nearly dropped dead at the mere thought of her ten year old missing church the next morning. 

“Lord have mercy upon us, for we have sinned.” Jake could still remember his mother crying vividly when he woke after surgery. Even at ten he knew his mother was somewhat of an overly sensitive soul. 

“Well technically, in order to convert the Germanic pagans who, like, celebrated the winter solstice and stuff—the Christians were like, fuck it, let’s just say that Jesus was born on this day and you can hang tinsel and stuff.” Again, you shrugged your shoulders like it was common knowledge, but as Jake stared down at you with confusion swirling in his emerald eyes, you thought for a split second that maybe this was actually news to the college athlete who’d been following you around for the better half of nine months. Respectfully. 

“You can’t just change someone’s birthday like that? Can you?” Jake, in all his years of attending Sunday services, Sunday Schools, being forced to read the bible and knowing far too much about parting seas and burning bushes, he’d never once been told that Christmas was just a day. 

“It’s kinda like how King James was rewriting the bible on one side of the castle and had witches trying to turn his pee into gold on the other.” Jake was speechless as you looked up at him from your chair, your eyes seemingly swirling with knowledge beyond your years. It made sense that you worked in the library on campus. 

“How the hell do you know all this?” Jake asked through a sheepish smile he couldn’t hide, your intelligence intimated him in the best of ways. You made him want to do better, be better, strive for more in life. It wasn’t that Jake wasn’t smart, he was. But next to you? It was an unparalleled excellence. 

“I uh—I tend to read a lot.” Jake caught the way you faded into yourself, never one to want to outshine others. “Just get lost in here sometimes, books are sometimes easier to understand than people.” Jake could sympathise with that sentiment, he knew what it was like to feel like everyone was watching, judging a book by its cover so to speak. Everyone knew him as the meathead footballer who’s weekends were spent racking up the body count. 

But with you? Jake just felt like Jake. Because that’s who he was to you. Simply and forever Jake. 

“Do you like, not believe in God or something Miss Y/l/n?” Jake asked cautiously. He didn’t want to offend you or come across as rude or anything—he was simply asking a question he thought he may need to know if he was ever going to introduce you to his mother. 

“I find it hard to believe in a world full of stories about Gods and Goddesses from a plethora of different perspectives that there can only be one, if one exists they all have to right? Harmoniously and complacent with the way the universe has fallen to shit without their divine intervention.” Jake had to take a moment to take what you had just said in. He was almost rendered speechless, but not quite. Not Jake Seresin. 

“Damn Honeybee, you’re fucking fearless aren’t you?“ Jake couldn’t help but to smirk as he tried to keep his voice down. “You’re just raw doggin’ life with no religious affiliations.” It was then your turn to laugh. 

“Guess I am. What about you? Do you believe in a God? An all mighty man, or woman, that sits in the clouds and judges your every action?” You asked with a teasing smirk as Jake bit his bottom lip, mulling over your question: 

Did he believe in God? 

“My mother would probably prefer if I said yes, but, the more I look at life without the rose coloured glasses I tend to think perhaps the big guy in the sky is all just some story.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Did you know hair holds memories.” The sound of buzzing clippers echoed off the walls of the bathroom as you sat before the mirror. Jake stood behind you with those big emerald eyes you loved so dearly, looking at you with a sympathetic look of understanding and support. “In some cultures people don't even cut their hair because it would upset the gods.” Jake could see the tears in your eyes as you looked at him through the mirror, understandably rambling to somewhat buy yourself some more time. “Medusa's hair was alive, there's certain styles linked to different cultures and full hair cutting ceremonies in–” If Jake didn't interrupt now you would have gone on forever. You had a habit of information dropping in situations where nervousness got the better of you. Not that Jake ever minded, he just knew if he didn't get ahead of it, you wouldn't stop. That would ultimately lead to you sitting in silence when the information swirling around inside her head had all been said. Panic would begin to rise inside your chest, the air would soon get thin, the room would suddenly get a little hotter and before you could even realise you'd be in the midst of a full blown panic attack. 

The last time Jake witnessed such a thing was when Sam had colic. 

“Honey–” Jake cooed as he turned off the clippers he held in his hand, only to place them down on the countertop to rest his hands on your shoulders. “Noone is forcing you to do this, if you don’t wanna cut your hair we don't have to.” 

“No–” You sighed. “No, I want to do this, it's just a lot.” You tried to explain. “It's probably one of the only things I still have control over.” Jake understood, it would be hard not to. After all, he wasn't heartless. If he could Jake would have taken this all away, he would have given anything, including his own life to take your pain away. “I just hope I don't have a weird shaped head.” 

“I'm sure you have a really nice scalp dear.” Jake chuckled as he massaged your shoulder tenderly. “And look, if you want my professional opinion, I think you’ll make an awesome live action Mrs. Potato Head.” 

“Jacob!” You tried to hide your smile as you felt your cheek heating with a hume so pure it made your heart skip a beat. “You’re cruel!” 

“But I made you laugh.” Jake countered through a shit eating grin, that signature Seresin smile you loved so much. The very one all three of your children had inherited from their father. “That's all that matters, now–let me work my magic alright, I've got you.” 

“You’re probably a worse hairdresser than you were a husband–” It was a low ball, but Jake took it like a champ as he reached out for the clippers. The buzzing was almost immediate as he used the pad of his thumbs to complete the electrical circuit. With the tool now in full gear, Jake chuckled as he looked at you with fake shock and horror casted across his face. 

“Oh now who's being cruel huh?” Jake watched as your eyes followed his hand that held the clippers. “Technically we’re still married Honey, you still have my last name.” He mumbled under his breath but still loud enough for you to hear, seemingly trying to keep your attention on what he was saying rather than the clippers approaching your head. 

But–you moved:

“Should we cut my hair with scissors first?” 

“Y/n–” Jake sighed as he once again turned off the clippers and placed them back down on the side of the sink. 

“No no no I'm not trying to stall, I just don't want you to accidentally scalp me when my hair gets caught up in the shaver.” Jake saw your point, for the hair you did have left it was pretty thick and full of life still. He held the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Not in frustration towards you, but in defiance of his new quest. 

“I'll go ask the nurses station for some scissors.” 

“Thankyou–” Was all you managed to say back before Jake stepped out of the bathroom attached to your hospital room. The Christmas lights still flickered in the dimly lit room, seemingly consuming the entire room in bright blues, greens, reds and yellows. Even in sickness you couldn't help but to lean into the christmas cheers. 

It hit Jake in that moment as he rounded out of your hospital room that he should get you something small to open when you wake up from surgery. The hospital has a gift shop right? Perhaps some flowers and a small gift you could keep with you during chemo. Maybe a book or a– *Thud* 

Caught up in his own train of thought as he made his way to the nurses station, Jake ran straight into someone coming out of the elevator. There were two very distinct things Jake noticed as he came back into the reality around him. Those distinct things being that the man he’d run into was carrying not only flowers, but a small gift. Huh, uncanny. 

“Sorry man, my bad.” The man apologised almost immediately after the mild impact. 

“No worries, I wasn't watching where I was going, my bad, really.” Jake responded with a polite smile his mother taught him about, the kind of smile you give to a stranger after mild inconveniences. “Jake–” Jake reached out to shake the guy's hand, in retrospect he should have kept walking. Jake really should have just let the interaction fizzle out, but he couldn't. He was too polite for his own good when it came to small interactions. 

The most paranoid fantasy Jake could think of would never have prepared him for the name that the man spoke next as he took Jake's hand in his. 

“Jensen–” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Okay, I'm ready.” Neither Jake nor Jensen knew if you had mentioned either one in conversation, so, respectfully, both men chose to play the fool. Neither one really wanted to ask. Neither Jake nor Jensen wanted to be the one to open that can of worms. 

When Jake returned with the borrowed scissors in his grasp–he acted as if he hadn’t just met the man he assumed was the very Jensen in your contacts. 

“Last chance Honeybee–” Jake cooed as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Are you positive?” He asked with a smile so pure it made your heart skip a beat. “I’m all in with you, just say the word and we do whatever you wanna do.” 

There was a momentary pause in the conversation. Jake's questions lingered in the air around you, it was hard not to get caught in the moment, get lost in the emerald eyes looking at you through the mirror. Jake stared you down as you shifted in your chair to look at him. He saw no hesitation in your eyes as Jake followed your gaze, searching for any sign or signal that could indicate that the next few moments were about to be a mistake. 

“Honey—“ Jake tried to heed the warning lights flashing before his very eyes as you closed the gap between the two of you. Jake stood leaning over your right shoulder, looking longingly at your lips. “Don’t do anything stupid now.” 

“Loving you is stupidity—“ Was all you said before you let your lips softly connect with your husband’s. Jake kissed you back with enough love in his heart to knock the wind right out of your lungs. The fleeting moment was broken, however, when Jake pulled away. The idea of another man kissing you on his mind, what was this guy's deal? Jackson? Jason? 

“Come on Mrs Potato Head, hand me those scissors—“ Jake chuckled, hiding his own insecurities about the man he’d unintentionally met in the hall. You took a second to keep up, but as you licked your lips to savour the taste of Jake's signature vanilla chapstick, you nodded and handed him the scissors. 

“I’m ready.” You sighed, once again looking back at your own reflection. “Let’s get this over with.” Change is an inevitable part of life, but that fact didn't make the current circumstances any easy to process. “Do you think that there's gonna be a place for me despite my inability to believe in a higher being?” Jake understood what you were saying, but he didn't have the answers. “I'm starting to wonder more about if there could ever be a life after death.” 

Clumps of hair in small sections fell to the tiled floor around you as Jake worked his hands through your hair. Cutting strands from your head like the local mower man cut grass. It felt like such a mundane task to complete, like this was an everyday run of the mill, average experience. But for you? This was a hard and confronting pill to have to swallow. 

“I’ve spent my whole life not believing in religion, so who am I supposed to pray to to keep me alive Jake?” Jake saw the tears in your eyes as he cut your hair with caution and steady hands, he heard the small but audible sobs that escaped your lips as he switched from the scissors to the clippers. The buzzing all but silenced your cries but Jake knew this was hard on you. The tears that stained your cheeks clearly reflected your sadness, anger and the inner turmoil that had been engulfing your entire existence since your diagnosis.

“You don’t pray to anyone Honey, you’re stronger than this cancer could ever be.” Again, no one ever sits you down and prepares you for this. No one gives you the heads up about the possibility of one day having to shave your wife's hair off in the name of dignity and control. But as Jake ran the shavers across your scalp, leaving nothing but a small layer of fuzz in their wake, he saw just how much sorrow and pain was swirling in your eyes. 

Jake thought to himself in that very moment: ‘I've been needing a haircut for a while now anyway.’ 

With one quick motion and in the blink of an eye, Jake was running the shavers right down the middle of his head. You really had to take a second to process what he’d just done, what your husband had just done right behind you. 

“Jake!” The shrill that escaped your mouth was something unmatched to any emotion you had ever expressed before. “What are you doing?” The image of Jake shaving his head in solidarity would forever be burnt into your mind. 

“You said it yourself–hair holds memories and we can make new ones together.” Jake cooed as he shaved off those golden boy locks you loved to run your fingers through. He suited the buzz cut a little more than you did if you were being perfectly honest. 

With teary eyes and puffy cheeks you stood on weak legs. The simple gesture of a haircut meant the world to you, Jake knew that. He didn't want you going through this alone. If shaving his head with you brought you a sense of solace? He was more than happy to. 

“Looks good–” You smiled as tears ran down your cheeks. Jake reached out to cup your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with the pads on his thumbs. “Mr. Potato head.”

“Consider us the founders of the Potato Head Society.” Jake chuckled as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. In order to cherish you the way you deserved, Jake had to be the bigger man here. He knew that a cloud of uncertainty loomed in the halls, one by the name of Jackson or fucking Jeremy for all Jake cared. But as he stood in the bathroom with you, surrounded in the locks of hair that had once been on your head, he knew damn well at the end of the day it was still his last name you chose to take. “Good thing you don't have an odd shaped head after all, it kinda suits you.” 

“Would you still love me if I did?” You asked quietly, giving Jake an excuse to confess his love. Jake's lips were soon pressed softly and ever so tenderly against your once again in the blink of an eye as gentle hands still worked to soothe your stained cheeks. 

It wasn’t a hard question to answer, nor an easy question to ask—but as Jake pulled away to rest his forehead on yours as he ran the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, you knew it was an easy concept to understand: 

“I’ve never, and I will never, stop loving you Honey.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

For as much as Jensen hated all things hospital related, over his past few years of treatment, he’d come to know these halls better than he knew the back of his own hand. 

From countless radiation treatments, to endless chemotherapy sessions. Hours upon hours of remedial therapies and acupuncture sessions to stimulate nerve endings, Jensen was a man who was just about ready to pull the plug and live out the remaining few months he had, or less, from the comfort of his back deck. 

He’d been poked and prodded, sliced and diced, far too many times to count on both his hands and for what? A few extra months tacked on top of a few years spent battling pancreatic cancer. No thankyou. Jensen had always had an optimistic outlook on life, until his life started to become the same bland halls and the same bland rooms, with the same bland doctors and nurses who all shared the same look of medical sympathy. 

Jesen, for all intents and purposes, was ready to give up his signature status of being the resistant ‘pin cushion’. The student nurses could learn how to change cannula sights on the lady, Paola, who sat in the same chair for every chemotherapy session. 

The last few days hadnt been too hot for the six foot one, brown eyed, brown haired (allegedly) man. His prognosis had been diminishing ever since he got the news his treatment was no longer as effective as it once had been. 

The day Jensen was told he only had a few short months to live before his organs would begin to fail, even with treatment, was the same day he saw you crying outside the local doctors office. The Hermitage centre as they called it. 

The last thing Jensen ever wanted was for his life to be meaningless, before he knew what he was doing? His feet were padding against the concrete as the psalm of his hands began to sweat inside his jean pockets. 

“You look like you’ve just been told you’re dying?”  As the elevator counted up the floors of which Jensen had to take from the ground floor of the Rhode Island Hospital to the oncology unit, he could vividly remember asking you that question. He recognised the look on your face because not ten minutes prior he;d been told the very same thing. 

“I'd start to get your affairs in order, Mr. Hughs “ It hadn't been just a regular check up with his local general practitioner. But it had been the almost final nail in a long awaited coffin. 

As the elevator dinged, Jensen took a few steps out into the bustling hallways of the oncology ward. Within seconds, he was met with a force so muscular it damn near knocked him back a few paces. But the cancer ridden ex fireman squared his shoulders and kept easy on his feet. 

“Sorry man, my bad.” Jensen almost immediately apologies after the mild impact. He assumed that it was him that had caused the slight collision. His special awareness was pretty shot these days. The flowers he carried were almost crushed on impact, however he managed to save the bouquet of sweet peas, peonies and pansies. 

“No worries, I wasn't watching where I was going, my bad, really.” The man responded with a polite smile Jensen could only assume his mother taught him about, the kind of smile you give to a stranger after mild inconveniences. “Jake–” like a slow motion car wreck, Jake reached out to shake Jensens hand. In retrospect he should have kept walking. Jensen really should have just let the interaction fizzle out, but he couldn't. He was too polite for his own good when it came to small interactions. 

The most paranoid fantasy Jensen could think of would never have prepared him for the look of utter betrayal that smeared itself across the blonde headed aviators face as Jensen shook your husbands hand: 

“Jensen–”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional @jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

@goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb

[gamesetart]

ohhhhh idk something about both of them trying to get you back into their lives at once, behind each other’s back. for themselves, yeah, but as a gift to the other. They just need to figure out how to get their claws in you first!!

and when Tashi breaks through first— when she invites you out to a “business dinner” that ends with the two of you in the backseat of her fancy ass car and you’re on your knees taking care of her the way you used to— the way art didn’t know about <3 messy and slick and her hand is in your hair and she’s telling you what a good job you’re doing, that she needed this, needing you.

But she’s Married. And you think about Art and feel that sad ache in your chest, like a missing part of you. You’ve always had a soft spot for him, of course you did. He was a good boyfriend, until the end when he started getting distant. You couldn’t hurt him the way you currently were. With Tashi’s taste on your mouth and her looking at you like you’re some magical missing piece that can fix her life.

So you’re the first to leave. Tell her it’s a mistake and you Can’t do it. You think about texting Art, but he texts you first. “Can I see you?” And you think he knows, that you’re going to have to explain and apologize. Then you get a second text from him. “I just miss you.”

And you’re sitting there thinking about how fucked up their marriage is.

Okay byeeeee

being possibly The Only Person privvy to how absolutely fucked up the donaldson marriage has to be the best and worst position on earth.

because you didn't, nay, couldn't imagine tashi had ulterior motives when she invited you to dinner. how could you? you've seen their press conferences. hell, you were invited to their wedding. (a shitshow for another day). they have a beautiful marriage and a beautiful daughter and a beautiful life.

still, you've never been able to feel totally... secure around tashi. so you shave every inch of yourself. you polish your skin in the shower until you glitter. you do your hair just the right way, perfect around your face. you put on your favorite dress, a gorgeous little black number that laces up the back and shows off perfect, tennis player legs. you remember the way you were - just before art, when it was just you and tashi, and you spent ages together under covers, trading kisses, tangling limbs.

(there wasn't ever an overlap, but you always did feel a little guilty never telling art you and tashi used to hook up. probably it would have fucked with his head. or he would have cum his pants.)

so you're astonished when you end up in that backseat. tashi tastes so familiar, and it feels so right to be back like this, doing the one thing you knew you did best: please her. she might have been the better tennis player, but you'll be damned if you aren't the best lay she's ever had. and for a moment, it's nothing but perfect as she looks down at you, ankles braced on the front seats, smiling coyly. telling you how much she's missed you, how much she's "missed this, baby, you're doing so good for me, that's it, that's it, fuck, just like that--" and it's amazing how well you still remember exactly what to do with your tongue, exactly how to drag her orgasms from her sweet, sweet cunt.

you leave, hop out of her car and take yourself home. you tell her this can't happen again, and maybe its best if you avoid each other at events for the near future. tashi doesn't expect that to hurt, but she also didn't expect you to be able to turn her down like that. you never did before. oh, my darling, she thinks, you've grown. tashi loves to get what she wants, and she will. but shes a little bit pleased you're so assertive now. it'll be that much sweeter when she finally does land you.

it'd kill art to hear it from you. a betrayal of the worst kinds, to the boy you dated all those years ago and the man you're still a decent friend with - the one who greets you with a hug at every social event, the one who danced with you at your first olympics event, when you hovered awkwardly at the edge of the dance floor. the one who texts you updates about his life and meets you for brunch if you're both in town. the friendship with art is distant, and you rarely meet in person, but it's there. you're bound together by that year at stanford. by the loss of your virginity on your ballet-slipper pink dorm room bedsheets. by the locket with his face in it he gave you for your six months. by the leather bracelet you wrapped around his wrist. by every kiss, every hand held, every sweet nothing in the middle of the night. and every bit of purely platonic friendship after.

but you should tell him. bear the brunt of his hurt. you deserve it, you tell yourself. and you're going to, too, you draft the text in your notes app and everything. prepare yourself, the next day, to send it but you don't need to.

art 🌻 3:23 pm

can i see you?

your heart falls into the floor and you think, oh, god, he knows, he knows and i didn't tell him and its all my fault and he knows--

but then the second message comes in. after a minute or two, like he was debating sending it.

i just miss you.

and you realise for all their publicity, for all the game changers posters and the matching public smiles, the donaldsons are one fucked up couple.

[moronkombat]

Idk if you’ve done this before but can you do nsfw alphabet for Kenshi?🙏

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Very affectionate, tender and caring with his partner after sex. Toned arms will wrap around you, holding you close while he kisses the top of your head. Once he has a comforting hold over you, do not expect to be getting up any time soon. Kenshi's aftercare is a very cuddly experience

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Kenshi favorite part of himself are his hand. Fingers are slender and long. Ink patterns cover the entirety of it making it feel leathery but smooth. Though the tattoos were gained during his time with the Yakuza, he still marvels at just how delicate his hands look. They do not look like the hands of a killer or someone seeking vengeance. His hands are that of a pianist or someone who plays the violin. Perhaps in another lifetime he would be such an artist

With his sight lost to him, he mourns the entire visage of you. He uses his hands to feel you and etch out your features. His favorite place to trace is your face. The curve of you nose, the dip of your cheek, he loves being able to trace them over your skin

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Has no strong preference in terms of where he finishes. If he's looking for a mess then he'll cum on your stomach or ass. If he's wanting to be more romantic then he'll cum inside you

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Kenshi's dirty secret is he almost wishes you'd tie him up or bind him to the bed. Typically you're the one tied up but he's always been curious how to feels but has not yet brought that up to you. He wants you to play with him, tease and taunt him so that he can break free of those bindings and punish you

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Kenshi had experience under his belt and knows what he is doing. He's had relationships in the past, both casual and long term so he knows his way around the bedroom. If he had a partner who wasn't experienced he would guide them

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

There many different positions Kenshi is partial too but he has two favorites. When you ride him and taking you from behind. Your hips grind and swirl against him and he groans. The sense of touch so heightened that he feels this ecstasy within his bones. Moaning whispers travel straight through his ears and to Kenshi your breathless wisp a booming thunder

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It can be a mix during sex. He can be very serious and concentrated. However, he also likes seeing your face twist and squirm when he plays a bit too much. Your reactions make him want to play with you more and more

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Kenshi is groomed but not shaven. He prefers it neat and tidy and will frequently trim it to keep it at an acceptable. Also has a bit of chest hair that he forgets to shave at times

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Intimacy and romance are one in the same for Kenshi. He expresses his love for you not only verbally but with his action. Really enjoys taking you out to eat somewhere nice and bringing you to impressive sights even if he cannot experience them to the fullest. Spending time with you is very important

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does but it's not as enjoyable as having sex with you. Therefore, he does it rarely, maybe every other week or so. Will typically masturbate to thoughts and pictures of his partner when he is away from them

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bondage and Restraints- Kenshi enjoys bondage because he loves your reactions . You make such pitiful whining noises when his hands roam you but you unable to touch him. You shutter under him as his tongue travels down your naval and you begin to writhe so beautifully. You are so exposed to him and he will consume all of you

Biting and Scratching- This is something he likes both ways. He likes when you dig your nails into his back. It truly makes him feel alive. At the same time he also loves leaving little love bites as small reminders of your bedroom tango

Discipline and Punishment- Just the idea of this is pure sex to Kenshi. He likes when you're naughty and misbehave so he can punish you. He's never too intense with it and doesn't leave bruises. His punishment is more teasing you for awhile, leaving you wanting him to touch you more but denying you this

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Prefers the bedroom because it feels much more private. He'll also light candles or dim the lights to create a more sensual feel

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He is turned on by your body and your words of affection. Simon is motivated by your words and affection. He also quite likes when you misbehave. He acts annoyed by it but he loves it. He loves when you're a bit mischievous with him so that way he can make it up to you later

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

While he enjoys your teasing, he does not like when it is constant or when his partner is unaffectionate. He likes a partner who can be lighthearted and funny but also caring and sensitive to his softer side

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Kenshi rather likes receiving oral over giving it. Not to say he won't, he will. But there is just something so devious with her head between his legs, mouth so stuffed full that Kenshi simply cannot go without

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He knows how to be slowly sensual and rough as an animal. The choice is heavily what his partner is seeking. His preference is a mix between the two. Something that can be ruthless one moment and then tender the next. Best of both worlds according to him

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Kenshi is a fan of quickies. He sees it as an exciting addition to sex and a way of letting off steam quickly. He doesn't engage in them frequently but will do so spontaneously to spice things up

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Definitely willing to experiment because he likes when it's fresh and exciting. Won't do anything that will cause himself or his partner too much pain and discomfort as that is something he is not interested in

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Typically can go for about 2-3 rounds. He doesn't necessarily become exhausted but prefers to engage in some tender aftercare with his partner instead of continuing to go multiple rounds

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He has them and will use them on his partner if he finds himself in the mood for it. He'll typically have a few on standby and prepared for his partner

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Incredibly unfair and teasing. He will take his time tormenting you and sending so close to the edge of oblivion. He will let you finish eventually but not after having his fill of you

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

All of his senses much more reactive so what may seem so simple to someone else, can be earth shattering to Kenshi. This often leads him being very vocal in bed. He will try to keep them at bay but his partner feels too excellent around him. He'll moan and whimper, often right into your ear as he pulls you close to him. Kenshi, when in the right moment, finds dirty talk rather appealing. There's just something about taking you from behind that makes his mind twist. He'll call you names, vile and wretched names that have your gut coiling and flexing within itself

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Something he would like to try in the bedroom is some role play. Nothing too intense but something light and fun to change things up a bit

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Kenshi is a grower and has more length then he does width. Exceptionally sensitive when touched and caressed, especially the underside

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Above average sex drive. Nothing too demanding but enjoys the company of his partner multiple times throughout the week

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

While he isn't tired, he does enjoy cuddling with his partner after sex and falling asleep with them. He holds his partner tight and tells them sweet words before falling asleep