#chubby everyone! ish!

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #23

Bonfire Bash 🔥 / Rotten Core ����

“Oh, you’re gonna do it like that?” says Hardison, widening his eyes at Parker. “That’s just nasty, woman. That’s, like, a four-thousand-percent sugar to anything else ratio. S’mores are about the balance.”

Parker licks around the edges of her s’more, which is a carefully assembled tower of six marshmallows, three Hershey bars broken in half so that three halves bracket each side of the marshmallows, and then the usual amount of graham crackers because this is the only way she can stand them. Otherwise they get all weird and gummy in her mouth and it unlocks some weird memory she thinks might be from when she was a baby, and she definitely doesn’t want that. 

“Excuse me,” she says, poking Hardison’s pudgy side with one finger. “My methods are superior. Tested by time!”

Hardison looks to Eliot for help, but Eliot shrugs. “Can’t be that different from that orange soda you’re always drinking, man.”

“HaHA!” cackles Parker, chomping a bite out of her s’more. “See? This was a great idea, you guys. Why don’t we have more s’mores nights?”

“Fire,” Hardison and Eliot say in unison.

“Oh, right.” In her defense, Parker has been really good about the fire. This is a nice way to enjoy it: sandwiched between her favorite boys, eating what’s objectively one of the best foods ever invented, all with a giant roaring flame to keep her warm and stimulated. Earlier in the evening, Hardison presented her with a whole set of fireplace tools, including an extendable blow poke and a long metal grabber to move wood around with, and told her that they were the condition on which she was allowed to play with the fire.

“Did you steal the tools?” she’d whispered, and he’d nodded.

“You know I did. Only the best for my baby.”

They’re burning, like literally burning, a bunch of old identities from the last city. Hardison’s got backups under layers and layers of encryption and firewalls and all his other digital safety measures that sound like word salad to Parker, but she wanted to have a ceremonial bonfire to commemorate starting over again, so Hardison humored her and printed out some copies. 

She likes the new house so far. It’s colder here than Portland, but it doesn’t rain as much, and there are enough trees on the multi-acre property that she’s already starting to bug Hardison about a zip line. So far he’s much more open to the idea of putting one out in the trees here than he was to putting one inside the New Orleans house, even though the high ceilings would have been perfect. 

She takes another bite of s’more and adjusts a few logs with the grabber. The fire sends up a shower of embers and ash, and she flicks them off where they land on her clothes. She’ll have to shower right away when they get inside, because as much as she loves the smell of wood smoke when it is outside, in the fresh air where it belongs, she hates smells that linger, and wood smoke is definitely a lingerer. She’ll pull the boys in too. Eliot’ll hate it because he just washed his hair this morning and he doesn’t like to do it twice in one day, says it’s bad for the hair or something, but oh well. That’s why she bought him the shower cap. It’s not her fault he refuses to wear it. 

She’d kind of thought that Eliot would have had some fancy high-end way to make a s’more, like dark chocolate and brown sugar marshmallows or something, but he’s chowing down on a normal one next to her, hair pulled back into a loose bun and shoved under a beanie to keep it out of the goop. That’s the other thing Parker likes about s’mores, the one Hardison really can’t abide: the goop. Parker can endure any number of boring activities, lectures, and/or social situations if she has something sticky on her fingers to keep her entertained. Lately she’s been really into those sticky little hands, but the s’more is a nice change of pace. 

(The new house also came with pine trees, which she’s very excited for. Eliot said they won’t start dripping a lot of sap for a while still, but she can wait. She’s got time. And a bulk order of sticky hands to get through.)

Next to her, Hardison wipes some marshmallow from his hands with an antibacterial wipe. His face is a bit fuller than it used to be, and while he’s retained some muscle tone in his arms, he’s also got enough extra arm for Parker to jiggle a little when they cuddle. His belly bows out in a soft curve beneath his t-shirt, and 

“Hi,” she says, tipping her head onto Hardison’s shoulder. Now that he’s back from his stint of globetrotting and saving the world, he hasn’t been working out as much, and his orange soda consumption is back up to normal levels. He’s softening up; they all are, thanks to Eliot’s determination to get them to eat three meals a day and their enthusiasm at being his taste testers for the new menus he’s been working on. Parker likes her new, softer shape a lot, even if she’s had to work to figure out a new center of gravity, a new sense of balance. It’s a good challenge. Without even realizing it, she’d gotten kind of bored of knowing how to do everything she does without having to work for it.

“Hey, mama,” says Hardison, bumping his head gently against hers. “Want me to start another marshmallow for you?”

Parker nods, mouth full. Hardison is the best at roasting marshmallows. He’s proven himself over campfires, barbecue grills, fireplaces, gas burners, blowtorches, and the tiny tabletop electric grill Eliot gave in and bought after he realized the one Parker had her eye on could double as a fondue pot. The man’s got it down to a science. Probably he has an algorithm for exactly how much heat and exposure time each square inch of the marshmallow needs to be perfectly golden.

Hardison plucks another couple of marshmallows out of the bag and threads them onto his stick. On her other side, Eliot takes a slug of the new porter he’s trying out for the new restaurant space he’s been cooking up. Eliot’s softer than both of them, but they’re doing their best to catch up. A little bonus padding has made him stronger, more powerful, harder to hurt, and Parker loves that that softness makes her feel both comforted and reassured in his arms. He’s still the most dangerous person in any given situation, but she likes knowing that there’s some extra fat between him and whatever he’s up against.

Eliot built the fire pit out here with his own two hands and a bunch of rocks he dug up from the chunk of the yard he’s taken over for his garden. If Parker looks hard enough, she can see them in its construction: Eliot the protective perimeter of stones, Hardison the gravel inside it, laying the groundwork and keeping everyone even, and herself, reaching up for the sky in bright fingers of flame. 

“Who do you think could eat the most s’mores?” she muses, watching Hardison twirl his marshmallow stick amid the flames.

“You,” Eliot and Hardison in unison.

“Come on!” she groans. “That’s not fun!”

“But it’s true,” says Hardison, shrugging. “You could eat us under the table as far as sugar’s concerned.”

“Okay, fine,” she says, skimming the gooey marshmallow innards off the tip of her own stick, where the outer shell of the marshmallow went up in flames shortly after she plunged it into the fire. “What do you think you could eat the most of?”

Hardison purses his lips, gaze lost somewhere above the fire. “Probably like — we talking, like, one specific food, or a whole genre of food?”

Parker shrugs. “I’ll allow a genre, since mine is sugar.”

“Maybe chips,” says Hardison. “Or, like, the extended family of chips and chip-adjacent snacks. If we include, like Cheetos, Takis, all them, I think I could do it. Give me something to hack and I can clear out bags without even realizing.”

“That’s true,” says Parker, considering. “I’ve seen you go through chips like that. It’s impressive.”

“Thank you,” says Hardison, bowing as much as he can while sitting on a log, roasting marshmallows. “It’s a carefully honed talent.”

They both glance at Eliot, who’s squinting into the flames. 

“Potatoes,” says Eliot finally. “Variation in texture’s key to being able to eat a lot of something. More important than taste, even, but that ain’t even really an issue with potatoes. You can dress ’em up all sorts of ways and they’ll feel like different foods.”

Hardison nods solemnly. “Okay, okay. I think Parker and I will have to verify, though. Like the Guiness Book of World Records. Let’s put that on the calendar.”

“As long as I get to cook the potatoes,” says Eliot, and Parker and Hardison nod vehemently.

“All you, man,” says Hardison. “We ain’t touching that.”

He pulls his marshmallows out of the fire and examines it. “Almost done,” he tells Parker, and she begins preparing her chocolate bars and graham crackers.

“Okay, but Eliot,” she says, tapping his knee with the corner of a wrapped chocolate bar. “If you had to make your own version of s’mores, what would you do?”

“Like how would I make ’em better, or how would I make ’em high-end?”

“Either,” says Parker, sliding the marshmallows Hardison passes her off the stick and squashing them between the graham crackers and chocolate so that they ooze out the sides.

Eliot thinks, turning his beer in his hands. “Pound cake,” he says after a long moment. “With crushed graham crackers in the batter. Grill it beforehand to warm it up, get it a little crispy, there you go.”

“I want that,” Parker agrees. “I want that a lot.”

“And elevated,” he goes on, rubbing his chin, “I think Earl Grey shortbreads and lavender dark chocolate. Marshmallow’s got to be the sweetest thing there or it won’t work.”

Parker wrinkles her nose. Hardison doesn’t mind lavender, even goes in for some floral beers or ice creams sometimes, but she’s not a fan. “Okay, you guys can have those. Will you make me the pound cake ones sometime?”

“Yeah,” says Eliot, reaching over for a bite of her s’more. “Maybe next weekend. We got this fire pit now, we might as well use it.”

“Now hold up,” says Hardison from Parker’s other side. “I could get in on some pound cake. Throw some strawberries in there, I’m in.”

“Strawberries’d be good,” Eliot agrees through a mouthful. “I’ll pick some up this week. Can’t have you two starving.”

Parker lays a hand on her belly over the blanket where it’s starting to round out a bit. “Aw, we know you’d never let us starve.”

“Never,” says Eliot, passing her s’more back to her. “Not on my watch.”

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ʜᴏᴛ ɢɪʀʟ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪꜱᴛ: ʙᴀɴɢ ᴄʜᴀɴ ♡

♡ Pairing: bartender!bang chan x chubby!fem!waitress!reader

♡ Genre: smut/fluff

♡ Summary: Chris has had a crush on you ever since his best friend hired you but he's never had the courage to do anything about it, too intimidated by you to say a word. Little does he know, you've had your eye on him too and tonight's the night you plan to give him a taste of what he's wanted so badly.

♡ Word Count: 4k-ish

♡ Warnings: flirting, kissing, dirty talk, a lil dom/brat dynamic, they're both low key needy, teasing, oral sex (m receiving), very sloppy oral sex at that, swallowing, deep throating, he low key has a big dick, we're playing with balls today, a lil rough nipple pinching, a lil fingering, booty slaps, chris really wants to eat you out, he also very much likes his girls thick, pet names (baby, baby girl, daddy).

♡ A/N: Hello my darlings! So this is my first entry in a series of fics I'm doing based on lyrics from songs that are basically my ho anthems. This is the ✨ masterlist ✨ and I'll be uploading fics over the next two weeks. Every fic is chubby reader centered and, much like an actual DJ, if you have a request feel free to slide into my asks. I'll happily take it 💖

“Better grab a mop, it’s getting sticky in this bitch” - Tyler the Creator

Christopher Bahng has one little problem and it has your name written all over it. 

Six years of bartending have taught Chris how to keep his cool against any number of things. Random fights breaking out between dudes who’ve had a few shots more than they should’ve. Belligerent drunks who lash out if he dares to cut them off. Divorced dads crying on his shoulder about their ex wives half an hour past closing time. After so long it got to the point where he didn’t think anything that walked through that door could throw him off his game. And then there was you. 

When Changbin said he’d hired a new waitress Chris wasn’t sure what to expect. All he wished for was someone nice and competent. Anything else would be the cherry on top and you came sprinkled with cherries. Not only were you an absolute sweetheart who picked up on things quickly, you were drop dead gorgeous. As a rule Chris doesn’t date coworkers. It’s messy and risky. Someone always ends up getting hurt. But working side by side with you every day left him wondering if the risk might just be worth the reward. 

You show up to every shift with your teeny skirts and your glossy lips, bouncing around the bar like temptation incarnate, seemingly unaware of the effect you have on him. He can’t keep his head on straight when you’re around. He makes silly mistakes and trips over his words. Everyone always compliments Chris on how charismatic he is but all of that seems to fly out of the window when you’re around. 

Tonight’s shift is no different. You’re skipping around the bar in your little pink mini skirt. The kind that twirls when you walk and rises when you bend over, giving him the faintest preview of your lower ass cheeks. The crop top you’re wearing is no better. It’s one of those tops with a plunging neckline that knots in the front, making your tits look especially kissable. The lushness of your figure means that everything else bounces when you do. You’re so thick. So juicy. So…

“Pardon me, boys” you sing, easing behind the bar to hunt for a clean glass. 

Minho, Chris’s fellow bartender, spins out of your way, two open beers held high in the air. “No, knock me over. It’s fine” he teases and you just roll your eyes. Minho always has something to say. You’re used to it by now.

At the other end of the bar Chris is busy mixing up a drink. Rum and coke. Quick. Predictable. Boring. Spotting a stack of clean glasses nearby, you squeeze in beside him, careful not to get in his way. 

“Ready for this night to be over or what?” you quip, an arm extended towards a glass that’s just out of your reach. 

Chris grabs it for you, his hands on the verge of trembling from how close you are. You’ve got your tits pressed up against his arm. Not swallowing it whole but brushing it just enough that he can’t ignore what’s there. 

A bit of nervous laughter escapes him as he flashes you that handsomely dimpled smile. “Yeah, I can’t wait to get out of here. You got any plans for later?” 

You shrug, nails tapping at the glass now secured in your hand, “Mmm, I don’t know. Why? You asking me out or something?” 

There’s a long pause. A tense, breathless silence that seems to last forever. Beneath that fluffy brown hair his ears are turning red and the blush is beginning to spread to his cheeks. 

“I’m fucking with you” you giggle, patting him on the shoulder, “You’re so easy to get. It’s too fun. Thanks for the glass by the way.” 

With a flirty wink you’re off, leaving as quickly as you came. Taking his first real breath since you stepped foot behind the bar, Chris watches you weave through the tables and nothing can tell him that you aren’t moving in slow motion. You’re like one of those girls in the movies—the type you dream about—and you’re looking right at him. You’re looking right at him. His grip tightens around the cool glass of rum and coke that's already begun to sweat against his palm . You’re talking to a customer but your gaze is entangled with his, drawing him deeper into your orbit than he’s ever been. 

You’ve never caught him looking before. He dreaded the day when you did but prayed it’d never come. Now that it has, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. The heat creeping up the back of his neck is unbearable and his heart’s prepared to bungee jump from his chest. Even worse, he's feeling something. Something he shouldn’t feel when he’s at work. A rush of blood. The tightening of skin. Fabric stretching to accommodate him. 

“Can I have my drink or is that yours now, sweetie?” the woman waiting at the bar asks. 

Shaking himself out of a daze, Chris panics, handing her the drink. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“What’s with you?” Minho mouths but getting an answer isn’t in the cards. 

Chris speeds by, his back turned to conceal what’s developing below his waist. “I need something from the back! Take over for me!” 

Bolting through a side door, he navigates the small back area cramped with boxes to find solace in the storage closet. He slams the door behind him as soon as he’s in, pacing the floor to calm himself down.

“Get it together, Chris. You’re not in high school. She’s just a girl” he tells himself like a coach giving a pep talk. Pausing in his tracks, he puts his hands on his hips, his brain filing through all the things he could do to help. “Think about bunnies or sports or old people or bunnies playing sports with old people.” Squinting his eyes closed he thinks of just that. The cutest baby bunnies hopping around a baseball field doing their best to win against their only opposition…the elderly. He gives it a minute, letting the thought truly soak in, before he opens his eyes again and looks down. 

“Fuck…” he hisses at the sight of a hard on that’s only gotten worse. If only he hadn’t looked at you. If only you hadn’t looked at him. Who told you to have such pretty eyes? And the nerve of you to devour him with them. 

“Chris, you back here?” you scream, running into the closet to find exactly who you’re looking for, “Oh hey, there you are, a customer had a question about a drink and…why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what? I’m not looking at you like anything. I don’t know what you mean” he stutters, taking a few steps back to create distance between the two of you.

You take those same steps forward, closing the distance and ruining his plans. “No, you are looking at me like that.” You fold your arms across your chest, eyeing him skeptically, “What are you doing in here, Christopher?”

“What am I doing in here? I was just, uh…” he scans the shelves, a lie at the tip of his tongue, “We were out of strawberry syrup and I came to grab it. I just can’t seem to find it anywhere.”

“You came to find the strawberry syrup?” you ask, effortlessly spotting it on the shelf. You hop up to grab it, dangling the bottle in front of him, “Does your dick always get hard for strawberry syrup? Is that a kink of yours or…”

Chris whips around, his back to you, hands swooping in to cover the offending area. “Oh my god, I wasn’t—you weren’t supposed to—shit.”

Sneaking up behind him, you peek around his shoulder, that mischievous giggle of yours brewing again. “See, told ya you were easy to get” you whisper, “That wouldn’t happen to be my fault would it?”

Your eyes flick down to where his hands are and the fact that they’re hardly enough to hide his bulge is exciting to say the least. How oblivious could he possibly think you are? In the beginning you weren’t quite sure if he was checking you out or not. He can have a mean case of resting bitch face when he wants to. During those first few weeks there was no way to differentiate if the stares you were getting from Chris had longing or hatred behind them but it quickly became apparent that it was the first. 

Girls walk into this bar and they swoon over him but you’re the one who turns him to putty simply by existing. That is power and you wield it recklessly, flirting with him every chance you get. So this little situation—him being so hard for you that he has to scurry away to a storage closet—is far from the offense he thinks it is. In fact, it’s an achievement. 

“You know, I like you…” you sigh, trailing your fingers up his arm to feel the firmness of his bicep through his fitted black shirt, “You’re sweet and you’re funny and you’re cute. Too cute to suffer. I can help you out if you want.”

Chris looks back at you, eyebrows knitted together in confusion, “Help me? What do you mean ‘help me’?” 

You glance down again and back up at him, “With that. I can make it disappear if you want me to.” 

Gently massaging his arm, you smooth your hand across his shoulder, down his chest. You haven’t seen this man shirtless but if what you feel is any indication of what it looks like you know his body must be immaculate. His breath hitches as your fingertips dance along his abs, venturing below his belt right to where his own hands hover.

You’re so close—centimeters away from where he throbs with need for you—but just as you’re about to touch it he dips out of the way, slipping from your grasp. Chris turns to you, his expression hardening. At the drop of a hat the boyish confusion you found so amusing has given way to something stronger. More severe. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable” you apologize, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

He advances on you and now you’re the one backing away. You’ve seen this before in nature documentaries. A poor little gazelle and a ravenous lion. The gazelle gets chewed up every single time. If you were to take a wild guess which one you are, you’d say you were fucked. 

“Chris, I’m serious, I was just—” Your back hits the door, knocking the air out of you, and you let out a faint shriek that makes his lips quirk into something reminiscent of a smile. 

His pointer finger traces the curve of your cheek, his feather light touch tickling your skin. “You were just ‘fucking with me’. That’s how you put it, yeah?”

If there were any air left in you then surely you’d lose your breath. “It sounds so childish when you say it like that.”

“Because it is childish. You shouldn’t say things you can’t back up” he says like it’s a dare of sorts. It is. 

As his lips drift closer to yours you can feel the heat radiating from his body. There’s no denying that some of it’s your own and what’s shared between you is enough to melt the sun.

“Who says I can’t back it up? I’m a woman of her word. If I say something then I always intend to back it up.”

Chris tucks a finger under your chin, tilting your head so that your lips graze his. “Prove it.” 

As if it has a mind of its own, your hand finds his chest again, tugging at the fabric of his shirt to bring him closer, and he doesn’t resist. He leans into you, his plush lips meeting yours as his tongue dips between them, eager to explore the furthest reaches of your mouth. The kiss is everything a girl could want, more delicious than any drink he could serve you up at the bar. It’s a good thing he’s never kissed any of those girls who fall all over him. They’d be helpless, at his mercy, utterly hypnotized by a kiss sweeter than any other you’ve had. 

Gripping his shirt tighter, you put every bit of strength you’ve got into spinning him around. The swap is effortless and he’s right where you were, his body blocking the only way in or out of this closet.

“Open this for me please” you pout, raising the bottle of strawberry syrup still dangling from your fingers.

Chris takes the bottle, vexed by your sudden need to access its contents, but he grabs the cap anyway, unscrewing the lid as you drop to your knees and get to work unfastening his belt. You’re quick with your fingers, undoing his pants with all the finesse of an expert thief cracking a safe. Your hand’s cool as it comes in contact with his length, stroking him from tip to base the second he springs free. He gasps at the chill, his stomach muscles tensing at the sudden hit of dopamine rushing through his body. 

Leaning your head back, you smile up at him, opening your mouth wide, “Pour it.”

“Pour it?”

You stroke his length again and it pulses against your touch, shiny beads of arousal dripping down the head. It takes all of his muscle control for his lets not to give out. 

“Pour. It.” you repeat, placing emphasis on each word.

Still reeling from that last stroke, he does as he’s told, letting a shot’s worth of it trickle down into your mouth. He pours in just the amount that you need. Such an intuitive bartender even now. Careful not to spill a drop, you guide his cock into your mouth, glazing him in the sweet syrupy liquid.

The warmth of your mouth meddled with the thickness of the syrup is what he never knew he wanted but will desperately need every day after this. It’s tight and gushy, hugging him how he imagines your walls might, and when you take him all in—your pretty lips wrapped around the base in the perfect shape—he loses any hope he ever had of holding his composure. 

Blinking down at you, he brushes your hair back out of your face, showering you with admiration. “Took it all in the first go. Didn’t know you wanted it that badly” he taunts, hips rocking to push the tip to the back of your throat. 

You don’t gag, you don’t even flinch, you just take it, your irises dancing like stars as your tongue swoops back and forth beneath his cock. The taste of him makes you drool, your own arousal gathering in your panties the same way his slicks the back of your tongue. You move slowly at first, bobbing your head back and forth at a delicate pace, enjoying every detail of his cock.

It’s nice and thick, the perfect size for your mouth, with veins that travel up to the head in such a picturesque formation that you might think it was deliberately designed to be so exquisite. Chris has the nicest mushroom tip, plump enough to make a crisp pop when it temporarily vacates your mouth, your tongue swirling around it to tease the rim. 

“I wish you could see how fucking gorgeous you look right now” he coos when you roll your tongue across the slit, lapping up his precum. You’re such a mess, your hands and lips all sticky with syrup, but he wouldn’t have you any other way. 

You smile as much as you can with your cheeks filled to the brim, slipping him back into your mouth until, like magic, it disappears. There’s an urge in him to throw his head back against the door, close his eyes and let the pleasure consume him, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He has to watch you. He needs to. You look so good slobbering around his cock, sucking him like a lollipop that comes in your favorite flavor. The way you’re squeezing your thighs together gives away how much this is getting you off too and it only worsens his need for you. 

Pulling back enough to wrap a hand around his length, you spare him one final glance before you let your eyes fall shut, picking up speed that gives him whiplash. The sounds from  your hollowed out cheeks suctioning his cock are downright sinful. You’ve got him biting his lip and bucking his hips, moans pouring out of him as you reach up to cup his balls, rolling your palm against them.

They’re so sensitive that the slightest amount of pressure makes his cock twitch harder between your cheeks but you don’t miss a beat, your wrist and jaw working in flawless unison to keep your pace. You’re too in your zone to notice but your tits are sprinkled in a shiny mixture of everything currently swirling around in your mouth. It found its way down your chin, adorning your neck, and over the hills of the lucious tits that await below. 

Chris can’t resist reaching down to grab one, his hand delving into your bra to knead the tender flesh. You hum around him as he finds your nipple, pinching the pebbled bud between his fingers. “Fuck, you like that baby?” he growls out, testing your limits by pinching just a little harder. 

You let out a whine, your thighs coming together again to ease the throbbing of your clit. Do you like that? You fucking love it. You want more. You want his lips around your bud and his cock deep inside of you, deeper than it is in your throat. You want everything he has to give you but you’re a woman of your word and you’re determined to keep it. Dragging his hand out of your shirt, you interlace your fingers with his, tossing him a defiant look that tells him to behave. 

With your hands now occupied, the full weight of his cock rests on your jaw. You deserve an award for keeping it in, performing tricks with your tongue he never knew a girl could. Every move you make, every wispy flick of your tongue, has his sanity unraveling thread by thread. 

“Fuck…I don’t know how much more I can take” he whimpers, a sound that only encourages your behavior. “So fucking good, baby girl…mmph…”

He squeezes your hands, attempting to push you back a few inches, silently begging you to slow down. Not yet. Just a little more. But you’re deep throating him like your life depends on it, refusing to take pity on him. His body tenses, an involuntary jerk of his hips almost tripping you up.

“Mmhmm” you moan, your nose pressed to his base, throat muscles flexing.

You steal a look at him, his jaw slack, eyes heavily lidded, a thin sheen of sweat coating his skin. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he was drunk and that’s exactly what it feels like. A nice buzz. A double shot of europhoria. 

A splash of something warm trickles down your throat and you gradually slip him out of your mouth, letting him cum on every inch of you until you’re balancing him on the tip of your tongue. You patiently wait for the last drop, slurping him clean. When you lean back, freeing your hands from his, he nearly doubles over. 

“Whoa, don’t die on me” you giggle, flexing your cramped fingers. 

Rising to your feet you capture him in a kiss, softly stroking his cock as he comes down from his high. His shallow breaths fall on your puffy lips, that pining boyish expression back at home on his face. 

“What was that?” he pants, nibbling at your bottom lip. 

“It’s what you wanted, right? Ever since you first saw me.”

Chris kisses you weakly, an effective diversion from the question. Looping an arm around your waist, he holds you close. Your tongue still tastes like candy and he intends to kiss you until the flavor fades. Slipping a hand down to grab your ass, he squeezes it roughly, making you arch in response. With your ass poked out he easily gets to what he wanted more. Tucking your panties to the side, he swishes two fingers around in the juices soaking your entrance. 

“Aah, Chris…” you gasp as his fingers push into you. 

If the sound of you sucking his cock was sinful, the squelching of your pussy accepting his fingers is sin itself. Dragging his lips down to your neck, he kisses it softly, working his fingers in and out of you. Holding tight to his shirt, you quiver from the pleasure, walls fluttering as the pads of his fingers trace the ridges of your walls. 

“I wanna taste you so fucking bad” he confesses, “That’s what I’ve wanted ever since I first saw you. You gonna let me taste you, baby?”

You want to say, “Yes”. No, you want to say, “Fuck yes”. Only you can’t find the words. Not when he’s playing your pussy like a finely tuned instrument. He can do anything he wants to you if all of it feels this good. 

Kissing his way back up to your lips, he stares into your eyes, his gaze oozing lust. There’s no question about it this time around. “Is that a yes or a no, baby?” His fingers curl into your faster, his knuckles flush against your entrance, juices running down your thighs. 

“Yes” you force out, riding his fingers. 

“Yeah? I don’t think I heard you” he teases, giving you a little peck on the lips, “You can be louder for me, yeah?” 

Click. Click. Click. The door knob turns and it only occurs to you now that neither of you locked the door. Worse than that, you’re still at work. 

“Chris, you in there?” Minho calls out, banging at the door, “If I have to work you do too!”

Minho tries to push the door open but it doesn’t budge. The collective force of your bodies is enough to keep it shut though you aren’t sure for how long. 

“Uh, I’ll be out in a second!” Chris shouts back, grabbing the knob to keep it from turning again. 

Fixing his pants as quickly as you got them open, you straighten his clothes out, and dip behind the door. Chris pulls you back over, stealing another kiss before letting you go. He moves away from the door and it goes flying open. Wedging yourself into the corner behind the door, you can’t see a thing. You can only hear the exchange. 

“What the hell were you doing?”

“I was looking…looking for the strawberry syrup.”

“All this time? Did you hit your head or something? I’ll find it.”

Noticing the bottle of syrup by your feet, you kick it over and by the sounds of it Chris grabs it. 

“Oh, there it is. See? Got it! Now go. I’m coming! Seriously. Go.”

You listen as Minho hesitantly steps away, the door swinging in the opposite direction for Chan to kiss you full force. He hugs you tightly enough to almost lift you from the ground and you kick your feet cutely out of surprise. 

“You’re coming home with me tonight” he demands, licking what small sample he got of you from his fingers, “You leave this bar without me and I’ll fight you.”

“Ooh, you wanna fight me, daddy? I am known to like it rough.” 

How can one girl be so hot? He can’t wrap his head around it but he knows he has to get away from you before he can’t hold back anymore. “Get back to work” he says, slapping you on the ass and you get on your way, flashing him your ass on the way out the door. 

Watching you leave, he can only think of one thing. That one little problem—the one with your name written all over it—has just gotten much, much bigger.

[lotuzies]

𝜗𝜚 STUFF I MANIFESTED — proving it's easy

⭑.ᐟ bts concert

this was probably the first thing i've ever manifested while being aware of loa! this was in 2019, way before it was even popular on tiktok, the community was all on youtube and amino (rip). this also goes to show that: yes, you can indeed manifest with limiting beliefs! all i did was listen to a bunch of subliminals & affirm every time i could. the circumstances were against me, family was short on money, bts wasn't coming to the country near me, and still, little 11yo me went to paris for her first concert ever :)

⭑.ᐟ missing school

lmao all the time, however i do mostly not having a specific class (mostly p.e.). also i should add i don't really use any methods for my manifestations, i just choose the desire and decide it's done.

⭑.ᐟ stopping the rain

all the time too! it's a 10 minute walk every morning from my house to the bus stop, of COURSE i'll stop the rain so my hair doesn't get messed up. or yesterday, it was raining VIOLENTLY (it's literally spring wth) but me and my mom had to go run some errands, so i stopped it.

⭑.ᐟ iphone 15

my iphone 11 was on it's deathbed, specially the battery that had already been changed and it started malfunctioning again. when the iphone 15's came out, i fell in love with the baby blue one, the color is so gorgeous and i liked the new dynamic island. last year, my mom said she'd buy me a new phone for my birthday, on our way to the store she mentioned that she was going to buy the iphone 14. i simply nodded, knowing i'm the creator of this reality and i literally get to choose what i want, i kept affirming i'd get my iphone 15. cut to: the store employee told us that the iphone 14 in blue was not available, but the price for the 15 was just more ninety euros, making my mom oblige. now i'm writing this post from my beautiful baby blue iphone 15 :)

can u tell i really wanted a blue phone

⭑.ᐟ waist

i was so incredibly insecure while growing up, and developed a weird obsession with a tiny waist. it's worth mentioning that i was a naturally chubby kid too. i did the same thing i always do, choose the desire and decide it's done, no method, no nothing. now i have a naturally small waist with no work outs or weight lost diets.

⭑.ᐟ going viral

ever since i was little i've always been fascinated by creating content, (aka i was a gacha kid). i've had many many many tiktok accounts, and all of them went viral a moment or another. my current one has 20k followers and videos with over 400k views, one of them with 1 million views and another with 2.5 million.

⭑.ᐟ crushes & love

i really liked a boy around 2020-ish, so i used a bunch of subliminals, backfired because he ended up being so shitty and annoying. (also we were kids lol). my current boyfriend though, i used loa not only to attract him but also to make our relationship healthy (it was a shitshow in the beginning oh god). however i remember i used to affirm "everyone falls for me" or something, my dm's started filling up, and one of my closest girl friends fell for me, resulting in a friendship breakup. it was really cool for my self esteem that used to be non existent, but now i'm taken so it's whatever.

final notes: these are the ones i remember from the top of my head, i hope i could motivate you all since some of these were done with little to no loass knowledge and a massive amount of limiting beliefs!! no method either, just my mind! happy manifesting <3

[tteokdoroki]

VOICEMAILS AND DIAL TONES - yuuta okkotsu.

✩ — about. “back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand.” there are rules to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s has. the first being that you tell each other everything. the second, try not to fall in love. all you know, is that you’ve failed at both, and now your best friend is half way across the world without any idea as to how much you truly love him. is that something you can say over text or voicemail? ( 8.7K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, with a happy ending - video banner! characters are in their 20s. coffee-shop!au, childhood friends to lovers, forbidden romance, long-distance, misunderstandings, miscommunication, situationships, arguments, hospitalisation mentions, death mentions (non-major characters), cucking, somnophilia, praise, fingering (f!receiving), oral sex (f!receiving), phone sex-ish, clothed sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampies, fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. hi everyone!! jumping on the yuuta hype and dropping this fic i wrote as a commission last year!! it's so interesting to see how much my writing has changed, but i remember having fun when writng this. either who!! i hope you all enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

absence makes the heart grow fonder — at least that’s what they tell you so that the feeling of missing someone hurts a tiny little bit less. 

you’ve always wondered if that were true. if willingly putting space between yourself and the person you loved truly helped soothe the soreness as if it were medication for the body’s aches and pains. perhaps the theory could best be applied to your friendship with yuuta okkotsu. 

he’s been your best friend for as long as you can remember — from the moment he moved in next door, his bambi eyes were big and brown, safe and inviting…who were you to keep hiding behind your mothers leg and deny him an invitation to play on the swing set his parents had put up for him in the garden just over the fence? yuuta was the sweetest boy to date, he was always polite with your parents and asked their permission before taking you into the depths of his cardboard fort in the front yard. 

he would walk home with you from pre-k, your chubby little fingers tightly intertwined and the matching charms on your backpacks swinging about the place jingling with every step you took towards home. when you got to middle school and kids were meaner, yuuta stood by your side while you were teased for being quieter than most. he defended you, his shy, patient best friend. 

okkotsu still walked you home, his pinky finger hooked over yours — greeted your mother with that same shy, yet charming tight lipped smile and offered to help her with cooking dinner with that same airy voice of his. your mother would reward you both with a kiss to the forehead and a plate of warm walnut and chocolate chip cookies and your pinkies — still linked underneath the table.

you were always linked. it’s always been yuuta and you. back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand the butterflies in your tummy and the blistering temperature to the back of your neck and your ears — maybe too naive to understand a metaphorical doctor’s diagnosis of a case of early on-set puppy-love. knowing back then would’ve explained why you wrote yuuta’s name on a heart alongside your own or why you squirmed every time you touched.

there was only one explanation. you liked yuuta, loved him. 

you wished that you’d known what that feeling was…because it's soon ripped from your grip and your whole world changes when rika orimoto enters your lives. she was pretty, had a beauty mark smeared daintily across her cheek and gentle eyes that made you feel safe. she was pretty and yuuta thought that too — inside and out. that’s why they became fast highschool sweethearts and why you were left in the dust. 

rika easily made a mess of him, tearing yuuta into a million tiny pieces that only she could put back together. she asks him out on white-day, okkotsu a bumbling mess by the lockers in between gym class and economics as he clutches her neatly written love letter — hearts over the I’s and T’s crossed ever so cutely. she had done to yuuta what he’d been doing to you all of your lives and you’d hardly seen her talk to him around school until that day. 

much to your dismay, they date throughout the rest of highschool and it nearly kills you, having someone that you were once so close to fade-away into near nothingness with growing distance. life where yuuta has a girlfriend ( that isn’t you ) drains the happiness that you got from being around your childhood best friend. it’s selfish, you know, to have wanted to keep him all to yourself. to have him want you instead of her. 

they make plans for after school, babies with names that start with the same letters as theirs and a wedding that’ll be small and flowery and whatever rika wants because yuuta okkotsu would give the girl he loves the entire world. you so badly want to be her. that person who is the centre of his universe. it should be you, it should have always been you — making plans with yuuta and imagining the perfect ring, the one that he would give you in the front yard of his childhood home. it should be your life with him, one that you’d dreamt up with him…and the sick thing is, you can’t have him — because you’re best friends and you’d be risking it all in the name of childish love.

rika, dies just days shy of your highschool graduation and it changes your best friend. a tragic car accident violently takes her life and okkotsu along with it. he’s a shell of the person he used to be, void of his dazzling smile and the comforting warmth that was unavoidable if you spent even just a minute with him. yuuta used to be like sun rays on a sunday morning but after the incident, he felt like blizzards on a dark november's eve. he lost his love, and you were starting to lose him even more than before.

his first love is memorialised at the graduation ceremony and while everyone sends her their thoughts and prayers — you feel sick to your stomach, knowing that for a brief second you’d felt relieved that your competition was gone. loving him was forbidden, he’d just lost his person and so despite your guilt you had to stick it out. be there for him. be there for your friend above all else and hold him up so that he didn’t sink in the deep water of his own grief. you’d save him, at all costs, you’d stop him before he drowned. 

things start to look up when the pair of you head to college — you both get into the same school and find the cutest little off-campus apartment to share. it feels like a home away from home to you both, since your nights before semester begins are spent attempting to master your mother’s famous cookies while practising how to introduce yourselves since you’re both nervous as hell for this new beginning. everything feels like it was when you were both children and didn’t have a single thing to worry about — except now there’s crippling student debt and a four year workload ahead of you…but you’re both excited, together again and it seems like the distance between you has shrunk just a little.

then your love life takes a turn for the worst ( yet again ) and yuuta finds himself running around town with a new crew of friends that he met in a club run by one of your elective professors, satoru gojo. they stay out later than you’re used to and your best friend comes home smelling different too, of strong perfumes and cigarette butts even though you know he doesn’t smoke. as it turns out, there’s another girl. 

maki zenin.

you don’t like her, and to be fair, she doesn’t like you either. so you keep your distance once more, keep your head down when maki does her faux walk of shame out of your best friend’s room — her thighs and her neck covered in bite marks and scratches, his shirt slipped over her body to cover the rest of her decency. he made her breakfast with your food and tea in your designated mug. it hurts to hear her mewl the sweet syllables of his name late at night while you’re stuck with the soundtrack to your own sobs.

it should be like this, distant — far apart because you care about okkotsu and you love him, so it’d be better to avoid it all rather than get him hurt.

your phone ringing in the distance gently lulls you from your reminiscent thoughts and you scramble to pick it up before you end up with a missed call. 

yuuta’s contact flashes across your screen, framed by light and making him look like an angel. it rings and rings, and you know that you should let it go to voicemail. let the space between you grow so you can protect what’s left of his soul. 

but you were never strong when it came to him. 

and you pick up before he can listen to another second of dial tones.

voicemail #1  - “hey yuuta, i hope you’re good, you’ll never guess who stopped by the cafe today— professor satoru! i haven’t seen him since your graduation! anyways, are you still coming over for dinner tonight? i miss you!”

this isn’t like him. 

even after all these years, from pre-k to college — yuuta okkotsu has never missed one of your calls. after graduating you'd made a promise to one another, to keep contact no matter where life took you, a promise of his own volition. you’d have dinner with each other at least once a week just like when you were kids and catch up on your not-so crazy adventures into adulthood. 

you kept up your end of the bargain as your way of keeping okkotsu afloat — to ground him. he’d seen and been through enough hurt to last him a lifetime and if he had to use you as a crutch for comfort, despite your raging feelings for him, then so be it. so you never missed a call, always checked in and made him something nostalgic and tied to the memories of afternoons where your mother would fill you up with her wondrous baked goods or heartwarming soups.

but still, this isn’t like yuuta to not pick up when you call. 

to feel…more distant than usual and of his own accord. 

panic sets in while you listen to the third dial tone, trying to contact him again. taking a deep breath, you pace around the fridge-freezer in the back of your bakery — one that you’d set up shortly after graduating from your business degree. there had to be some explanation for your best friend’s absence. perhaps traffic? maybe he was on the subway catching a ride over? or maybe he just needed space. he’d been going through a lot recently. yuuta didn’t get a job straight out of college and he broke things off with maki shortly after — they wanted different things and had different aspirations.

even still, with the free time left on his hands, there was too much room for him to think about his losses and his loves…it made you worry for him, it made you panic and chew on your nails just like this. “c’mon yu,” you whisper to yourself, the shaky syllables of your words bouncing off the metal house for your ingredients, muffled by paper bags of powdered sugar and organic flours. “where are you?” 

you can barely hear the automated message telling you to leave a voicemail for your friend over the bustling of your afternoon service. if yuuta hadn’t been off the grid, he’d be here helping you with the customers that know him all too well, the old ladies that pinch his cheeks and the younger ones that twirl their hair in an attempt to flirt over miniature cherry bakewell tarts. except he’s nowhere to be found, and you’re nauseous, worried sick about where he could be and what he could be up to. 

you try his cell one more time in an attempt to grab at his attention. there's something weird about today...as if he’s avoiding you, hiding. yuuta always picks up and you always pick up for him, it’s an unspoken rule.

when you’re met with the dial tones again, you hang up — slumped and distraught. there’s hungry customers to feed and you’re overly friendly college professor waiting on a fresh box of sweets you’d used as an excuse to escape to the back of your shop. yuuta can wait for another call from you. 

but you’re not sure if your heart can wait for one back from him. 

voicemail #2  - “it’s yuuta, we need to talk.” 

oddly enough, silence is comforting to you. it reminds you of your best friend, the nights you’d spend coupled up in your dorm with your fingers running through his silken midnight hair, his head in your lap and the both of you shrouded in darkness. more often than not, you could tell how one another’s days went just by body language and when shoulders were slumped and eyes were droopy — yourself and yuuta would curl up together  and just…take in the quiet. 

be close to one another.

so, you bask in the tranquillity of your quaint little cafe as you clear up after a day's work. you sweep floors, wipe tables clean and arrange the tables and chairs with perfect precision. the only sound that accompanies you is the clink of silverware and porcelain plates as you wash the dishes. it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop and the slightest noise is enough to make you jump — just like your phone that vibrates deep within your back pocket, startling you as you scramble to dry your hands so you can see if it’s him who’s been trying to get in touch with you.

it’s embarrassing how quick you are to smile when you see a few missed calls and a voice message from yuuta. though you’ve never quite heard the tune of seriousness that plays in his voice before, your heart won’t stop racing at the mere sound of him speaking. your mind wonders…what could be so urgent that he’d need a ‘talk’?’ 

maybe it was a thank you…for always being beside him or maybe he even liked you. perhaps okkotsu had finally come to his senses and realised how much he’d always needed you…how much he loved you.. the racing thoughts in your brain hopefully jump towards a confession from your best friend and you find yourself getting giddy at its prospect. you practically skip, hop and jump to the back of your cafe, switching out your flour stained clothes for one of the spare and cleaner shirts you keep in the back — you touch up your makeup too, brighten the dark circles under your eyes and blot your worry lines with care. 

you even manage to heat up a few of yuuta’s favourite pastries to serve up by candlelight — rehearsing your own words of confession as if they haven’t been looming around in your head for years. 

the bell to your quaint little cafe chimes with his arrival, a rush of cool, late night air tangling with the temperate atmosphere as you lay your finishing touches on the meal you’d prepared for you both. when you look up, yuuta’s eyes have settled on you — warm and inviting as usual, but bright with a light that had been missing from them since you were young. you’ve missed it, the subtle spark that brings life to the coffee brown oasis in his eyes.

he remains as handsome as ever, taller than you by however many heads — limbs long, arms slightly muscular and waist slender, though his build is more like a dancer’s. yuuta okkotsu grew up to be a fine man and you’d be a fool to have not noticed. he crosses the room in short strides, rushing to take you into his arms and hold you close and squeeze you to his chest. yuuta smells like cookies, you note, hardly paying attention while his lips softly brush over your hairline in a sweet kiss.

“hi,” he whispers, voice smooth like melted chocolate dripping through your ears. “i’ve missed you.”

you only hope that he can’t hear your racing heartbeat, it’s speed picking up as you decide that this is your moment. the moment. “i’ve missed you too,” you mumble back, toying with a loose string on the cream cashmere the dark brunette is wearing. “yuuta…i have to tell you something—“

“i-i have something important to tell you,” he breathes out at the same time as you do, almost shy as you both sway in the centre of the room and enjoy one another’s embrace. 

the both of you share a laugh that’s light and airy before you drag him over to a table and set of chairs, forcing him to sit and to eat the baked goods you’d set out for him. “you first, yuu,” it makes you happy to see him tuck in, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “you owe me a story after disappearing on me today.” 

okkotsu nods in agreement, his cheeks adorably full of food and pastry flaked across his milky skin. “‘m sorry, i was sortin’ something out la’sht minute.” 

“yeah?” 

“y-yeah! i’m moving,” yuuta drops the bomb like it’s nothing. “abroad. for a job! professor gojo set me up and it’s s-supposed to help build my confidence and stuff—“ 

your world falls apart in an instant, sucking away the oxygen in your lungs until you feel like your lungs are failing. yuuta is leaving you and this time it’s for real. 

confessing to him now wouldn't mean shit, you’d only be holding him back. your face crumples faster than you can control at the thought and after years of knowing you— okkotsu instantly picks up your change in mood. 

“what’s wrong?” he says your name and even that hurts to hear.

“n-nothin’ yuu, i’m happy for you, really.” comes your broken voice over the quiet, you fake it until you make it.

“really? you don’t look like it.” 

running a hand over your tired face, you force a smile. “really. especially if you think this is what’s best for you.” 

“it is!” yuuta nearly snaps, controlling himself— stopping himself from yelling at you and tearing your friendship apart before he’s gone. “i need this, need’a be my own person. after college, after highschool i didn’t have time for any of that! i need this.” 

needs it more than he needs you.

“okay.” you say simply, blankly.

“okay.” he says back. 

the debate doesn’t last that much longer after that — the room fills with silence as you grieve your faltering friendship. whatever confession you had planned, now forgotten. 

voicemail #3 -  “yuuta! i wasn’t sure how long your flight was but please call me when you land! you’re gonna do great at your new job.”

yuuta doesn’t call after he lands, in fact two entire days pass before you actually hear from him. after the argument, you’d try to stay on good terms as though not to lose him for good — helping him pack and sort out his currencies, buying him language books since you knew he would struggle with the new dialect. 

you figure it’s because he’s unpacking and not because he doesn’t want anything to do with you — and while you make some late night tea, you find that it’s better to imagine him alone in a new foreign country, picture his pretty pink lips struggling to form the vowels of the new language too, envision how he’ll tan under the blistering hot heat and how excited he’ll be to try new things.

its humiliating how easily he can preoccupy your thoughts from thousands of miles away and makes your heart race so fast that it might burst through the bones and flesh of your chest. he occupies your every thought like a fungus crawling across your brain that’s only disrupted by the sound of your phone ringing loudly — making you drop your tea and jump up to answer.

“hey,” the way yuuta says your name sends tingles down your spine — filtering out any pain you feel from burning your hand. he looks good too, dark hair flopping over his eyes, voice gravelly with sleep as if he’s just woken up and you’re the first thing on his mind. “i got your message, s-sorry for not calling i’ve been—“ 

you cut him off, eager to speak and draw the call out for as long as possible because you missed him. “busy? a guy like you must be extremely popular on the other side of the world.” you’re chipper in an attempt to cover how flustered you are and to cheer your best friend up when you notice how nervous he looks.

“not exactly… i’m nervous. e-everything seems so big ‘nd scary without you here…”

without you.

you shake your head over the grainy FaceTime call. “you’ve always done fine without me, you’ll do even better without having to cover for my shyness!” he laughs at that, the sound like a sweet song to soothe your aching heart. “you got this yuuta.” 

your best friend gives you a sleepy smile, one that melts you like a knob of butter on a hot stove and has your knees knocking. “you’re the best, you know that? you always know what to say.”

the static crackles between you and your heart leaps into your throat. 

“i’m always here for you, yuuta.” 

“and i’m glad for that,” he yawns. “i love you.” 

you have to remind yourself that what your best friend says is strictly platonic but you almost selfishly repeat the words back to yuuta until you notice he’s fallen back asleep. 

ending the call, you clutch your phone and burned hand to your chest. 

“i love you too.”

voicemail #4 - “hey sorry i missed your call, time zones can be crazy! work has been catching up with me and, well, i made a new friend!”

for the first week, you and yuuta text everyday while he’s away. you do your duty and act as his crutch like you always have— keeping him company while he works, eats and commutes all on his own. you feel bad that you lap up the attention he gives you over the phone through his loneliness. you could be compared to a desperately hungry stray animal at the way you drink up every little interaction you have. giving pieces of yourself away to keep your best friend happy. 

but as time goes on, okkotsu seems less and less worried about his job — easily slipping into the language here and there, no longer relying on you to stand on his own two feet. the frequency of your communication dwindles to the point where you really feel like you’re oceans apart. 

even yuuta notices the change within himself — the confidence that filters through him when he says yes to the pretty girl who works in the cubicle next to him when she asks him to tag along for drinks with the rest of the office one night which soon becomes a regular thing. he knows that he speaks less with you and that your texts are barely there but he’s sure you won’t mind the distance. you’re a busy girl, you run a cafe, a few days of not talking wouldn’t do any harm.

“oooh, she’s pretty. who is that?”

kasumi miwa is the one to pull yuuta out from the fog of his thoughts. the brunette looks up from his phone, your face flashing across it’s lock screen as the background. a photo where you have your arms wrapped around him from behind and your smile is as bright as the sunshine. miwa is a pretty girl, different from you. her voice is smoother and eloquent where yours is charming and sweet — she doesn’t remind him of home, or smell like the warmth of a chocolate chip cookie…but she is pretty. her presence is enough to make him shy.

he’s caught her looking a few times, her touch lingering whenever miwa passed him paperwork and right now; her cheeks are tinged pink probably from the alcohol the office is drinking inside where yuuta had come out for some fresh air.

okkotsu clicks his phone shut and stands up at full height to face his blue-haired coworker. “i… i haven’t spoken to her in a while. i miss her.” he says wistfully as he gives your name

“well, if i were dating a girl that pretty, i would miss them too.”

“o-oh! we’re not together! she’s my best friend!”

the woman beside yuuta cocks her head, a satisfied grin spreading across the slope of her lips. “you should call her — i’ll be waiting inside.” 

he follows her eyes as she walks off, along with the whiff of her chanel perfume, before his gaze lands on his phone — he calls your phone. 

you answer after the second ring, though don’t speak straight away, letting the silence wear the both of you thin. “how’ve you been?” you say quietly, lacking the chipperness to your tone that you usually have whenever the two of you ring each other up. there’s no hello, no warmth, you’re cold. 

but yuuta doesn’t ask — he’d like to think he knows you well enough not to. he thinks that you’re fine, probably tired from work and it’s late over there too. if he cared to catch up with you, he’d have been more considerate of that.

“good!” the brunette chirps in order to keep the mood light, leaning over a nearby railing. i miss you. yuuta wants to add, but the words feel like cotton in his mouth, sticking unpleasantly to every surface and for some reason they don’t feel right to say— feel foreign. “work’s been good. i think i’m getting the hang of things around here. my co-workers are great, i get this amazing view every morning a-and—“

“and?” 

“i met someone! i think! i wanna get to know her more but she’s been great to me so far…you’d like her!”

hearts don’t make a sound when they break, but if they did— you’re sure that yuuta would have been able to hear yours even from halfway across the globe. over his own ramblings he can hardly make out the shatter of your vital organ as it falls to pieces, cracks into tiny shards with jagged edges that could make you bleed if you tried to put it back together…because your best friend having met someone means he’s moving on. leaving you behind. and he’s too tone deaf to notice. 

through the static of a phone call, okkotsu misses the crumple of your face and the way your throat bobs as you swallow back salty tears and two decades worth of unrequited love. you’re devastated and he can’t even tell, barely noticing the way you rush off the phone while he’s halfway through a sentence.

his brows furrow when he realises you’ve hung up. 

“i take it that didn’t go well?” kasumi questions when yuuta re-renters the bar, her face sympathetic but voice elevated with smugness. 

he shakes his head once. “no, but it’s okay. she’s been busy.” 

he excuses you but kasumi doesn’t let up, pushing for more of yuuta — breaking him out from his shell, stealing and keeping the pearl of his heart for her taking. “don’t be too sad yuuta, you have me and your new friends, we’ll keep you company instead.”

there’s a hidden meaning behind her cherry picked words. she’ll keep him company — and for once, yuuta doesn’t feel guilty for trying to break away from you.

voicemail #5 - “what happened between us yuuta? you used to tell me everything and now you’ve got a girlfriend? i didn’t even find out through you!”

there’s an unspoken rule to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s – you’re supposed to tell each other everything. there’s not been a secret between you in all the years you’ve known each other except for minor white lies that couldn’t amount to major forms of harm. he might have told you that your hair looked fine on days where you’d barely any time to tend to it and you might have told him that he hadn’t been awkward presenting in front of your entire college class… but those were worthless lies. strings of words tied together that didn’t mean anything, that didn’t have any intent to harm.

there were no secrets, no major ones.

until now.

“he’s got a girlfriend, yanno…”

the news is shared with you casually from over the counter one day by your irritating white-haired ex-professor who makes a habit of annoying his old students. he comes in for sweets often and the daifuku you make is his favourite – you offer him extra in exchange for updates on the classmates you used to share since he’s nosey like that.

with every visit to your little cafe, gojo filled you in on everything yuuta had been up to in the blurred weeks and months since you’d last spoken – including his relationship status. “she’s pretty too, long hair. s’blue which is an odd colour, but she’s been good to him, ‘pparently. boosted his confidence.”’ the man cocks his head, watching in real-time as your movements in packing up his order slow down.

your throat bobs whilst you swallow your fading pride in front of your teacher, forcing down a wave of tears. it doesn’t matter how many times yuuta gets over you, moves on from you, finds someone to love other than you… it still hurts. it’ll always hurt knowing that he can fill the other half of his heart with someone that isn't you, while your own stays void and empty.

as always, satoru gojo sees right through your resolve as you total up his order – again forgoing charging him extra for the little tid bit of gossip he’d given you. there’s a shell of someone he doesn’t recognise in place of the girl he used to teach – the one who was once full of life and eager to learn, get out into the world and achieve your dreams. yuuta okkotsu had chipped away at you, the years you’d spent protecting his feelings had caused you to drown in your own.

and gojo could see that, he knew that. he’d been through it before.

he only wishes he had better words of comfort for you.

“you love him, don’t you?” he asks you quietly as you ring him up but you answer with his total in yen instead – sniffling as you do. professor gojo takes his brown paper bag, full of enough sugar to make the heart stop – to kill a person, but even that’s a better death than the heartache you’re going through now. you sniff and he offers you a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach the sapphire eyes behind his shades. “better yet, don’t answer that. i don’t need anymore tears in my daifuku.”

voicemail #6 - “oh fuck yuuji, right there…” “here baby? oh you’re so cute, fuck ‘m gonna—!” “oh… yuuji!” 

( incoming voicemail from - yuuta: “hey, call me back? who’s yuuji? are you okay?” )

yuuta knows that he shouldn’t have kept listening – he should have deleted the voicemail as soon as he caught onto what was happening. it didn’t take a genius to know what was going on, the sounds of skin slapping on skin, your voice wavering with the tune of lust even over the static crackle of the voicemail you’d left. 

he wishes that he’d never heard you moan out like that for someone else, that he wasn’t picturing the faces you’d make underneath the body of another man…but he couldn’t help it. the more he listened, the angrier he felt, the more betrayal flooded his veins and clouded his usually clear judgement. the brunette had no right to be this mad at you, he was supposed to be happy with miwa, supposed to be letting you move on just like he had done from you.

and yet, like a necrotizing parasite – jealousy feasts at the back of okkotsu’s mind. it disrupts his work, distracts him from his girlfriend and fills his mind with flashing images of you being fucked five ways by another man. one that isn’t him. yuuji. who even is yuuji? how did you meet him? were you dating him? you hadn’t talked in so long so the guy had barely come up in conversation. you were best friends that used to tell each other everything and now he felt like you were fucking someone new behind his back. yuuta knew nothing of what that stranger meant to you, he had no idea that yuuji itadori was just some college boy you’d brought home one drunken night – to act as a salve for the burns your childhood best friend had left on you.

it's a temporary fix, yuuji’s tongue laps at your wounds – pleasures you with teeth and tongue until your head is light and you’re almost too dizzy to think properly. in the moment, he felt good, he took care of you…but he wasn’t who you wanted. he wasn’t yuuta.

was it bad that you basked in the jealous rage and attention the brunette had bathed you in? drowning you in a barrage of text messages  the morning after you’d slept with itadori, when yuuta finally had the chance to listen to the voicemail you’d left by accident. it was the most you’d gotten out of him in the months you’d been separated.

yuuta - 7:16AM: hey…did you mean to send that? call me when you’re up.

yuuta - 7:45AM: i don’t think i was supposed to hear that…

yuuta - 8:34AM: who’s yuuji?

yuuta - 8:36AM: are you seeing someone? call me please.

yuuta - 8:57AM: pick up the phone.

yuuta - 9:21AM: it’s not funny anymore. i’m worried. pick up.

you answer your phone around noon, having given yourself the space to think over cooking a hang-over breakfast for yuuji. the sounds of spitting oil underneath frying eggs had provided the soundtrack to your thoughts – helped you pick and choose the words you would say to yuuta before your companion slips out of your apartment and you tell him to grab a pastry from your cafe downstairs on his way out. a little thank you for the night you’d shared.

“what the hell was that?” is the first thing yuuta snarls down the line once your call connects.

you shift your phone in your grasp, as if his seething tone has scorched the palm of your hand. “are we past greetings or somethin’, yuu?” you fail to admit that it hurts you, starting the call without his tender and caring ‘hello’, you feel like an enemy on the battlefield to okkotsu, rather than his friend.

“i think we are well past that, especially with the kind of voice messages you’ve been leaving me.” he says it like he’s disgusted with you, when he really just misses you. craves you. he’s angry at himself and for letting you slip between his fingers into the grasp of another man. not at you. never at you. but even cell phone lines connecting calls from across the globe can’t properly convey the way yuuta feels. “what’s going on with you? why are you acting like this? we haven’t spoken in weeks and you–?”

“why is what i do any of your business anymore, yuuta?” you snap through his flurry of questions, growing heated yourself. “i accidentally left you a voicemail of me fucking someone, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me.”

“you’re just… not like this. we don’t speak and all of a sudden…y-you’re different!”

you clutch the phone tighter, swallowing thickly. “and who’s fault is that? let me answer that for you. it’s yours. you’re the one who got a girlfriend and left me in the dust. not the other way around!” you argue, trying to sound stern and steady though yuuta can hear the wobble to your words loud and clear. “you shouldn’t have listened, you should have called. you let the distance become a problem between us.”

he scoffs, an action so unlike your best friend. “we’re not children anymore! you should have talked to me about the distance!” 

“i couldn't!” you defend yourself, desperate for the pain in your heart to be heard for once. “you were finally happy again yuuta! that mattered to me—“ 

“you think i'm happy about hearing my best friend get…defiled over the phone?” 

“well you should be! it means I’m not hung up on you anymore, that i’m moving on from being in love with you! leaving you so that you can be happy in your new life!” 

the silence from yuuta’s end of the phone is both too loud and too deafening. 

“you…loved me?” he whispers, switching back to that same sweet tone he always used when it came to you. “why didn’t you say?”

your stupid little confession, the one you’d been holding back for more than half your life, sips out before you can catch it with the tip of your tongue and you instantly feel terrible for weaponizing your crush on okkotsu against him. at least that’s what it feels like you’ve done. “i never told you…because i’m not selfish, yuuta,” you stutter out, your face hot with oncoming and flustered tears. “i-i'm not a selfish person. i wouldn’t sacrifice our friendship or your happiness, not just because i loved you.”

yuuta says your name, but blood rushes through your ears in embarrassment – way too fast for you to catch it, and you hang up before you can humiliate yourself any further.

before you can hear him say that he loves you too.

voicemail #7 - “open up, i'm coming home. please be here when I’m home.” 

the number you have dialled is unavailable, please try again later.

after the slip of your tongue and confession to yuuta— he was met with radio silence. you’d blocked him on every form of social media possible and he couldn’t even blame you. you wanted to be free from him, from that silly and imaginary red string that had kept you tied to his soul for all of these years. it hurt to think when everything reminded you of him, so you buried yourself in your cafe and worked yourself to death because even the sweet relief from life would be better than living without your best friend. 

gojo had stopped by and taken you to the hospital twice since you’d worked yourself into exhaustion — tonight was no different, sentenced to bed rest by your ex-professor and the best doctor he could find. he always did look out for his students.

sleeping your sadness away had caused you to miss a barrage of yuuta’s calls — if you’d picked up you’d have known that he was coming home. coming home for you. in the wake of your love confession, okkotsu had realised how much he needed you and how much he loved you. you had never left his side, no matter what yuuta had been through, and now, nothing feels right without you. 

so he broke up with his girlfriend, took leave from his job and flew halfway across the world for you — to give his message in person. 

it’s near midnight by the time yuuta gets back to japan, the warm yellow of the streetlights illuminating the path right up to your apartment after getting out of the uber. there’s a spare house key, glinting gold, hidden under your cupcake shaped doormat just as yuuta remembers and he uses it to slip inside — dumping his bag and kicking his shoes off at the entryway. his socked feet locate the bedroom with ease, perhaps drawn by your aura and the anticipation of seeing you again.

and there you are, so close yet so far away — your face peaceful and painted with an adorable expression of slumber. okkotsu notes the way your chest slowly rises and falls, the crease between your brow as if you’re having a bad dream. he could fix it… whatever’s plaguing your sleeping mind, he knows that he can, because whenever you touch each other, it’s like your bodies know to relax and that they’re safe.

tiptoeing deeper into the room, the brunette slinks up to the side of your bed and the mattress dips underneath the weight of his knee as he seats himself beside you. you’re so beautiful, so calm. he doesn’t know how he went his whole life without choosing you, choosing other people over you time and time again. “i love you,” yuuta whispers into the dead of the night, brushing a thumb and forefinger over the apple of your cheek — hesitating when you roll into his body heat. “i love you. i’m so sorry.” he says again, while pressing a feather light kiss to that same spot. 

his breath hitches when you reach for him this time, grabbing at the man in your sleep.

yuuta kisses you again, but on your forehead. then your other cheek, your chin, your inner wrists and finally — your lips. each brush of his own against you is increasingly feverish, pouring unspoken emotions into them as he quietly utters the words ‘i love you.’ over and over again. he feels like he has something to prove, as if the brunette has to show you how much he cares for you — leaving a trail of sweet smooches between the valley of your breasts from over your night-shirt to between your thighs that spill out of the loose material.

he only hopes that this is enough for you to forgive him, for you to love him back like he does you.

your best friend… or ex best friend really should feel bad about this, teething on the swell of your thighs— his fingertips sinking into their apex to pry you apart for him. you could end up hating him more for this, yuuta’s slick and drool stained tongue rolling over the seam at the crotch of your panties hungrily, softly as if to test the waters. he takes it as a good sign when your face contorts with pleasure even in your sleep and slots his entire mouth against the sweet treasure between your legs— sucking the juices from the fabric of your underwear.

you taste so good and he’s not even got you properly wet yet. yuuta’s next move is to hook two fingers over the garment to pull it aside — revealing your twitching hot cunt to the cool night air in your bedroom. even your scent is divine, enticing just as you’ve always been and the brunette can’t believe he was too blind to see it before. he presses a chase kiss to your clit, feeling it pulse to life against his lips before said kisses become open mouthed and sloppy— tongue diving into the tightness of your little hole, circling it to flick your flavour back into his mouth. 

his movements start slow, tenderly testing which spots inside your pretty little cunt make you sigh out contently while you slumber but the wetter you get, the sloppier yuuta becomes — lapping at your sex and your clit in eager movements like a kitten at a bowl of milk. you only stir awake when his fingers travel up to grip onto your ass and tug your pussy onto his face, guiding you up and down on his writhing tongue like he’s fucking you for real.

“y-yuu?” you grumble, still finding your footing in the reality of consciousness. “whas’ h-happenin’… oh my god—!”  the questions you have for the mop of hair between your legs, groaning like a starved man into there too, taper into an angelic moan. pretty and airy, like music to yuuta’s ears. once you come to and fully realise what’s going on, your fingers slip into the roots of his hair and your hips buck into his mouth instinctively — even though you should be pissed. even though you should be screaming at him and kicking him off. you can’t help it that this is what you’ve always wanted. that you’ve always wanted him.

“w-what are you doing here?” you manage to ask through a whine, brain fogging up at the way yuuta’s tongue runs laps over your swelling clit. 

he pulls off of you with a lewd pop that makes both of you shudder, two of his slender digits easily sliding into you where his tongue once was — guided by spit and slick. “i came home for you. i love you,” your best friend doesn’t have time to formulate proper reasoning, drunk on your saccharine flavour  like you’re the finest wine he’s ever had the honour of tasting. “f-fuck, i-i missed you.”

yuuta gives you those big puppy dog eyes as he curls his digits inside of you and hits spots you can't quite reach on your own. you should be talking about your feelings not fucking through them but you’ve missed him so much and need him so bad. both of you groan in unison when he brushes over your g-spot, your hips jumping up and his grinding down into your silky sheets. 

“missed you too,” you breathe and yank him up by the hair to meet your lips — making out with him feverishly, swapping the words your mind can’t seem to force you to say, pouring the mixed emotions into him as he finger fucks your tight little hole like his life depends on it.

every movement you make with one another is sloppy and uncoordinated, tongues doused in one another’s saliva— saliva that tastes like you. your moans mingle in the hot and heavy air and you clench down on yuuta’s fingers as they pump in and out of you, his palm slapping against your folds while you leak into the seat of his palm. 

“are you close?” yuuta slurs into your mouth so quietly you almost miss it underneath the lewd sound of your pussy. “i want to make you cum, show you how much i love you.”

blood rushes through your ears, heat pin pricking like needles under your skin. “y-yes. p-please yuu…” 

his thumb dragging smooth circles over the pulsating bud between your blooming pussy lips is all you need to trip over the edge into your high— the knots in your lower tummy unwinding faster than you can register, waves of your nectar flowing from your cunt onto the sheets below and soiling yuuta’s hand right up to his wrist. 

your head tips back into a high pitched squeal, eyes locked away and rolling back while you damn near black out from your orgasm. but your best friend is right there like he should be, sucking love-bites into your neck to ground you. dark tresses of yuuta’s chocolate-like hair tickle at your tingling flesh while he manoeuvres himself between your legs and shifts his pants down enough to let his rock hard cock spring free. 

“c-can you take me now?” he pleads more than he asks, brown and warm eyes trembling with need, anticipation. “i don’t think i’ll last long and i need you.” 

you feel him press at your entrance, his angry red tip glistening with opaque beads of precum— yuuta softly ruts his hips against you, smearing…claiming you with his own essence while he waits for your consent. “i’ve always needed you, yuuta.” you say breathlessly, giving him a small grin and nod when he looks up from drooling against your neck. 

that’s all the go ahead he needs before his thick girth pushes all the way into you at once — weighty and temperate against your ribbed and creamy walls. “‘ohmyfuckinggod,” he whimpers wetly against you. “y-you’re so tight wrapped around me. so perfect i—“ 

“move, yuuta. fuck me, please,” you remind him, tugging on his air and crossing your ankles at the base of his spine. 

“y-yeah okay…g-god you’re so good. so sweet ‘n tight.” with that, he draws his hips back — hesitant at first. brown eyes watch your face for any signs of discomfort and yuuta’s lust driven instincts take the lead when he only notices how blissed out you look. your pretty lips are agasp, forming a pleasure-filled ‘o’ as you mewl and claw at his half-clothed shoulders. “i love you, o-oh god!”

all you can do is whimper in response, fingers drifting up to the nape of yuuta’s neck to tangle in his dark locks— tugging him into you as if it’ll make him hit deeper, churn up your guts and make you see stars. “y-you’re stupid…” you manage to get out, the warmth of your breath glossing his lips as if to taunt your best friend with a kiss. 

“i know…” calloused fingers grab at the backs of your thighs with a bruising grip before yuuta pushes your legs towards your shoulders, both of you grunting and whining in unison when you tighten around him at the new angle. gushing sweet juices that paint his stomach and pelvis.

“y-you shouldn’t have left me,” tears start to brim, collecting in your lash line like diamonds before they hit your cheeks.

you’re so beautiful like this, even when you’re crying— when you’re crying because you’re fucked up on his cock, claiming it with your cream as ur clings to his balls and the veins that spital down his length. 

yuuta’s red hot tip nudges against the soft and squishy spots along your sensitive walls, keeping his thrusts at a rhythmic and passionate pace to make sure the only thing you feel is heaven on earth. your pussy is hot and warm and heaven-like around him, sucking him in so selfishly and tightening every time yuuta’s strong abs grind against your puffy clit. 

“i know,” he sighs dreamily and with an airy voice, licking a stripe from your chin to your cheek as a tear streaks it’s way down it. “won't ever leave you again,” his fingers touch at your face, sinking into the softness of your cheeks as he drags you up to face him. “i’ll never leave you again.” 

“never?” you ask, hiccuping.

“never.” he moans.

you see it there, the love glittering amongst the almond flecks in your childhood best friend’s eyes — he means it, he promises it and you can feel it with every roll of yuuta’s hips into you while he pins you to the bed. he makes love to you and says what he needs to through his actions this time. through your tangled mess of sweaty limbs and fluttering lashes you find okkotsu’s hand, linking them together. 

the sight of your hands meeting one another brings emotions bubbling to the surface of your skin, hot to yuuta’s touch — it's a symbol that you’ve finally come together after being worlds apart for so long. “you’re finally mine, ‘m never letting you go,” his warm breath coasts across the seam of your lips before he dips into kiss you— tongue gliding over yours as it pushes into the depths of your mouth just as his cock does, brushing up against your g-spot and just  kissing your cervix. “you’re always going to be mine.” 

“i-i’m yours,” your eyes roll back and yuuta loses his pace, his entire body twitching the closer you both get. sex taints the air, both in sound and scent, your cunt squelching around him with how wet you are and how much he leaks into you. “g-gonna cum, yuu! make me cum, make me fucking cum.”  you slur out, anchoring the man down to you with your arms around his neck until yuuta’s forehead is pressed against yours. sweaty locks of his hair and all.

yuuta’s body collapses against you and his thrusts switch to sensual grinds that never let up on your spongey g-spot. “f-fuck me, b-baby. ‘m cummin’,” he croons, panting against your lips and with one, two, three more pumps you’re squirting all over him— the pressure unwinds in your lower belly and you’re hit with blinding white lights and your nails dig into yuuta’s shoulder to the point where you leave bright red crescent moons. “that’s it baby, cum for me, make a mess for me. show me you love me— fuck!” 

you’re still trembling with the aftershocks with your orgasm when the brunette follows suit — the warmth of his seed floods your quivering cunt, painting your folds an opaque white before yuuta pulls out. the last droplets of his cum hit your soft tummy accompanied by his high pitched whine  and then he crumples against you, exhausted from the height of it all. 

“i love you so much,” yuuta hums against your skin, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “it’s always been you.” 

“i love you,” you affirm, knowing that no matter what distance is put between you and your best friend (now lover) — you’ll always find your way back to each other. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[drdawnbreaker]

ﾟ°☆𝐃𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐏𝐭.𝟏☆° ﾟ

Heya!! This is my first recommendation list. I read too much and from multiple different fandoms, hehe. I did think about splitting the fandoms up into separate posts, and maybe I'll do that in the future, but for now, these are all just amazing fanfics that I need to share and show off to the world. If you have any fics you really love, whether they are your own or others you love. Send them my way!! Im always looking for new content to read, hehe.

ᴍᴀʀᴠᴇʟ

✦ Unleashed — @veltana

Genre: Smut. Sex Pollen Au.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: During a mission, Bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions, and all he wants is you.

✦ Last Minute — @dollfacefantasy

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Frank Castle x Female Reader

Summary: When Frank won't give you attention, you have to convince him not to leave somehow...

✦ Everybody Talks — @nickfowlerrr

Genre: Smut. Halloween Au

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Curvy!Reader

✦ What If...? — @vunblr

Genre: Smut. Angst. Neighbours Au

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Curvy!Reader

Summary: Bucky navigates his insecurities and guilt from his past as he grows closer to his new neighbour, a nurse.

✦ Who’s She? — @sacredsorceress

Genre: Fluff. Secret double life au.

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: when sam gets injured during a mission and isn’t able to go to a hospital, bucky brings him and natasha to his own home to get cared for by his girlfriend, y/n, who he’s been keeping a secret.

✦ Dr. Bee — @malum-forev

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Bucky x Nurse!Reader

Summary: Bucky has quite the reputation, but all it takes for him to want to change is an hour with an outspoken little Bee.

✦ In losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time) — @mellowsaturns

Genre: Heavy Angst. Onesided-enemies-to-lovers-ish

Pairing: Soldat!Bucky x Assassin!Reader

Summary: When the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy, but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

✦ Blurred Lines — @ellemj

Genre: Time Travel. Angst. Smut. Fluff. Enemies To Lovers

Pairing: Avengers!Bucky x Reader. 40s!Bucky x Reader

Summary: When choosing a female agent to send back in time to gain young Sergeant Barnes's trust, everyone's in agreement that it should be Sharon. Until Bucky, the man that you barely get along with, speaks up and lets everyone know that it could only be you.

✦ Out of My Head — @navybrat817

Genre: A/B/O. Smut. Angst. Fluff.

Paring: Chubby!Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Summary: Bucky feels a bit insecure during a romantic evening, and you do your best to get him out of his head.

✦ The Memory Remains — @vunblr

Genre: Smut. Angst. Winter Soldier Vibes

Pairing: Bucky x Curvy!Reader

Summary: An unexpected encounter brings Bucky face-to-face with someone from his past, stirring memories he thought were long buried.

✦ Toy Soldier (part 1) — @vunblr

Genre: Dark. Gore. Angst. Fuff. Big feels

Paring: Winter Soldier!Bucky x mutant!Reader

Summary: She had been the tool Hydra used to keep him operational; he, the weapon manipulated by their tendrils to execute their ambitions. Years after breaking free, fate Sam Wilson brings them together once more. Now, they must navigate the challenges of forging a connection beyond the twisted dynamic that once bound them in the past.

ʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠɪʟ

✦ Strawberry Scented — @cakelitter

Genre: Smut. Hybrid au.

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x Bunny!Reader

Summary: You remain still blissful as ever. Your dreams must be nice, hopping in meadows and basking in the sun; or is that too stereotypical of him? Wonder if you dream about him. Does your mind replay the sweet and innocent time you spent together? Or do you get dirty dreams about him like he does?

✦ Dolled Up — @coqvttes

Genre: Smut.

Pairing: Carlos Oliveira x Virgin!Reader

Summary: After making you wait nearly two months to lose your virginity, you surprise him in lingerie that you know he can't resist corrupting you in.

✦ Sweetheart Club — @cakelitter

Genre: Smut. Angst. Collage au.

Pairing: Professor!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: “You wanted to talk, professor?” he turns around and faces you, placing down the papers he’s holding on his desk and taking his glasses off. “Yeah, mind explaining the absences?”

✦ Light of the Full Moon — @dollfacefantasy

Genre: Dub-con. Werewolf au. Smut. Angst

Pairing: Husband!Wolf!Chris x Wife!Reader

Summary: Your husband hasn't been the same since coming back from his latest mission. you struggle to understand the cause, not wanting to believe the worst. on the night of a full moon, tensions peak, and you're determined to find out the truth.

✦ LIKE RABBITS ♡ — @dollfacefantasy

Genre: Pure Smut. Hybrid au

Pairing: carlos oliveira x bunny-hybrid!fem!reader

ᴅᴄ

✦ Werewolf!Jason Todd Imagine — @redr0sewrites

Genre: Smut. Werewolf au. Heat/Knotting

Pairing: Jason Todd x Human!Reader

✦ Virgin Jason Todd — @devotedlyandrogynousyouth

Genre: Pure Smut. Drabble. P/W/P

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

sᴘɴ

✦ Tentacles — @sweetcocopowder

Genre: Smut. Monster fucking. Supernatural.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel ft. Alien being?

Summary: Dean has to perform a ritual to continue further in his hunt. Said ritual, is fucking an ancient being that only wants to pleasure. And Cas is here as moral support.

[peppermint-monster]

Kunigami Rensuke X Shy. Chubby Reader!

Warning: Pet names (Curvy Goddess), Confession...?, FLUFF?, Hickeys, Jealous-ish Kunigami, Missionary Position, Reader being a little bit obsessed, Blowjob, Situationship...? Basically, NSFW. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also, be mindful that I didn't really mention much of the reader's appearance (besides, she's a female) since I wanted to keep it vague for everyone to relate as much as possible, though it is definitely for the more voluptuous side of ladies. 😊

Please be mindful that the photos are not mine, but the making of the collage is.

MINORS DNI!!!! 🔞🙅🏻‍♀️ If you're not comfortable with this, please ignore!

P.S. I write all characters over 18 and up (I should have mentioned that at the start 😅).

Kunigami Rensuke X Shy. Chubby Reader!

On Monday morning, while casually chatting with his friends, Kunigami unexpectedly realized that as they discussed their ideal partners, he noticed the shy, curvy girl sitting across the classroom, her eyes occasionally darting toward him. Seated at his desk, with his friends' chairs subtly turned in his direction, Kunigami couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue and curiosity about the situation. 

“For me, she must have a mature charm, like Sensi.” His friend with a bowled cut fawningly smiles, thinking about Sensi. And if they’re married, it just makes it even better for cheating.”

“I would say an idol,” His other friend butted in, fixing his glasses while mentioning the idol he likes. “Her singing, dancing, just everything is perfect.” It almost seemed like steam was coming out of his nostrils.

“Idols, huh?” Meanwhile, Kunigami couldn't help but snicker at the mention of idols.

This provoked the glasses-wearing friend, who suddenly stood up, slamming his hand on the desk, and demanded, "And what are you trying to say?"

“You better watch it. You never know what these idols do backstage.”

“Tsk- alright, how about you tell us your ideal woman?” He argues back.

“Well, my ideal is…” Kunigami murmurs, bringing his hand to cup his chin while he thinks.

He starts describing his ideal woman, stating that almost everything about the curvy beauty sitting across from him completely differs from his ideal type. 

She is the exact opposite—a nerdy loner. She always has her head stuck in a book and consistently wears her winter uniform, complete with big black glasses and long, unstyled hair. It's a complete contrast.

“And also her personality must be…”

“There’s still more!?!?” His glasses friend said. “There’s no way your fantasy girl would ever exist like that.” He continued.

“At least ours are realistic ideals, right?” His bowl-cut friend includes.

And he knew that. Kunigami knew that no one existed exactly like he expected, yet if there were, he would fall for them in a heartbeat.

If only he knew…

--------

Unbeknownst to Kunigami, stuck in his train of thought he didn’t notice the sliding door opening, signaling someone walking in, until hearing a group of girls gushing over someone.

“So cute!”

“Did you get a boyfriend?”

Glancing around to see what the girls were looking at, he noticed a girl in the center gaining all the attention. 

And he couldn’t believe his eyes.

He saw her sitting there numerous times, book in hand, as her mind wandered into the world of fantasy. She was the usual plain-looking, chubby girl, but she was visibly displaying a new look—only this look was exactly what he mentioned to his friends three weeks back.

“I dig sweaters.” He had said.

And then a week later, “Short skirts are cute.”

Even the way she styled her hair matched his preference. 

It was undeniably her.

She made him feel something he couldn't quite ignore.

He was captivated, unable to break his gaze from her. A dryness settled in his mouth, and he swallowed hard, fighting the rush of saliva that threatened to overwhelm him.

Simultaneously, his heart began to race, skipping a beat amid the overwhelming sensation.

As soon as she drew Kunigami in, he began to question it. 

This change in her appearance—is it just a coincidence, or did she overhear what he and his friends were talking about? 

And if so, why would she change her look? 

And her appearance... It couldn't be linked to him... Could it?

Her eyes met his across the room, locking in a moment of unspoken connection before she flushed and averted her gaze, returning her attention to her book. Kunigami couldn't help but smile and quietly laugh to himself at the sweet, fleeting interaction.

‘Cute.’

Ever since returning from Blue Lock, Kunigami has undergone a noticeable transformation. The experience has left a lasting impact on him, altering his perspective and demeanor. 

The feeling of not being chosen and facing disqualification left him shattered. Soccer had been his ultimate passion and the central focus of his prime years. He aspired to be a source of inspiration for countless young aspiring athletes, but now he found himself at a crossroads, needing to seek a new career path.

He could always be a firefighter.

With him so focused on wanting to become a soccer player, he didn’t have time to socialize with his friends or interest in girls.

But now…

Strangely, Kunigami can’t seem to keep his eyes off a particular curvy beauty.

And that’s precisely what he couldn’t stop doing for almost the whole week until finally, Friday came around.

The school bell rings, signaling the final class of the day has finished.

Everyone is beginning to pack up and get ready to go. Kunigami walks toward one of his friends and says, “Yo, Yuuta, do you want to hang out?”

“Sato-kun! Please come with me to the student counseling room.” There, Sensi cuts in.

“Okay!” The bowled cut hair happily said, following after his teacher.

“And you, Daisuke?” Kunigami asks, turning to his glasses friend.

“Actually, I got tickets for my favorite idol concert. So I can't go.”

As his friend turned to leave, Kunigami nodded slightly and offered a small, understanding smile. "Ah, okay," he said softly, his gaze following his friend as they walked away. "See you around."

‘Everyone seems to have already left…’ He gingerly rests his hand on the polished surface of his desk, running his fingers along it as he double-checks for any forgotten items. As his gaze sweeps across the room, it falls upon a woman with alluring curves seated in her customary spot. 

Since the start of the week, Kunigami has been inexplicably fixated on her, following a noticeable transformation. He is also captivated by the presence of two other girls who surround her.

One of the girls turned to the curvy beauty with a hopeful expression, a hint of desperation in her voice. "Hey, could you do me a huge favor and cover for me this time? I know we're both supposed to be on cleaning duty, but you'll really be doing me a huge solid."

He could tell just by the shy girl's face that she was reluctant to agree.

“I-I guess I could…”

The group of girl's excitement overflowed as one exclaimed, "Yes! Thank you so much. I owe you one big time," beaming with gratitude. Her joy spread to her friend, who followed close behind, both wearing bright smiles.

Meanwhile, the shy girl let out a heavy sigh as she closed her book and began to tidy up the room.

‘What the hell? Why didn't she say no?’ He thought to himself, feeling unjust that the other girls had left her to clean alone. 

"Damn it,”  Kunigami couldn't bear to leave her there by herself.

She was suddenly startled by a loud thud from behind. As she turned around, she saw the man she longed for, dropping his bag and hastily overturning a nearby chair onto the desk.

"Kunigami-kun, what are you doing here?" She inquired, her voice tinged with shyness as she nervously gestured with her arms.

Hearing her say his name for the first time sent shivers down his spine.

"Uh yeah, I saw what happened. It was unfair for them to abandon you to handle all the work alone. You should have refused," He continued, methodically arranging the chairs. "Besides, I had nothing else to do."

Nervously, she bit her lower lip. Her eyes caught for a second his muscular biceps flexing under the short-sleeve bottom-up he wore as he lifted a chair with zero effort. 

She swiftly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before turning back around. A mix of relief and gratitude washed over her at his unexpected act of kindness and also a shame for catching herself lusting over his sexually frustrated physique.

She endured the relentless silence as they cleaned, each movement grating on her nerves. For more than a year, Kunigami Rensuke had consumed her thoughts. She had gone to great lengths to catch glimpses of him, whether watching him play soccer, following him through the hallways, or stealing glances at him during class. 

However, just as she was planning to confess her feelings with an envelope at hand, she received the devastating news that Rensuke was going to be away for a bit. The opportunity slipped through her fingers, leaving her to feel uncertain of when she would ever see him again.

As the days stretched into weeks and then months, she was irresistibly drawn to the vacant seat where he once sat. The memories of his presence, the sound of his voice, and the warmth he exuded lingered in her mind, making it impossible for her to avert her gaze from the void he had left behind.

One quiet morning, she settled into her usual seat with a captivating book in hand, fully engrossed in its pages. As she delicately adjusted her glasses, she turned to the next page, realizing that she was gradually adapting to life without Kunigami Rensuke by her side.

“Kunigami-sama! Long time so see.”

Her entire body tensed as the unexpected name reached her ears, causing her to tighten her grip on the book she held, feeling it crumple slightly under the pressure of her shaking hands. 

‘It couldn't be,’ She thought to herself, her mind racing with disbelief. Slowly lifting her gaze from the pages, she caught her breath as her eyes met the sight of an incredible man who made her heart flutter uncontrollably once more.

As he walked past her desk to join his friends, who were eagerly calling him over, she couldn't help but feel her buried emotions resurfacing, sparking a new sense of purpose within her.

As she walks to the closet, she hangs the broom on its hook. When she goes to put away the dustpan, it slips from her hand and falls to the ground. Unbeknownst to her, someone hears the noise, looks over, and catches a glimpse of her bending over to pick up the dustpan, unintentionally revealing her panties.

"Ah!" Startled by the sudden surprise, Kunigami, with a chair at hand, doesn't see where he is going, causing a loud crashing sound behind her.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, truly," he insisted, his tone unwavering even as he struggled to steady himself. He took a deep breath, attempting to exude confidence as he rose to his feet, a slight wobble in his knees betraying his composed façade. His attention was momentarily diverted by an uncomfortable warmth at his nose, where a thin stream of blood had begun to trickle, leaving a crimson mark on his shirt. He glanced at her, desperate to assure her that everything was okay, unaware of the evidence of his struggle.

"Here, take this." She offered her napkin shyly. 

"Ah, thank you." He bashfully accepted the napkin, a hint of a blush appearing on his cheeks as he nervously scratched the back of his head and averted his gaze.

As she gracefully walks away, he raises his hand to wipe his nose absentmindedly. Still, as he does, he is suddenly captivated by the delicate and appealing fragrance lingering on the cloth. He finds himself pausing, drawn to the fabric as he inhales the alluring scent, each breath deeper than the last, succumbing to its intoxicating allure and lewd images his mind can't seem to stop fantasizing. Gosh, he’s a pervert.

It seemed as if some unseen force, perhaps fate itself, was deliberately tempting him, urging him to pay attention to details he had previously overlooked. Amidst all these captivating details, she stood out as the most enchanting.

With the chalkboard eraser at hand, she goes to do the last task of wiping down the board but can't reach the very top.

“Almost.”

She goes on her tippy toe, nearly reaching the top, but still can barely make it. 

“What am I going to do with you.”

A more substantial hand, resting against her elbow, moved across her arm and up her hand, clutching the eraser with painstaking care. The unexpected hand, which also rested against her arm, gave her the sensation of robustness and comfort.

“Here, let me.” He leaned toward her, and she could feel his warm breath brush against her ear as she finally allowed him to take the eraser and finish wiping what was left on the board.

“Thank you, Kunigami-kun.”

Her heart pounds in her chest as she turns around and devours Rensuke with her eyes. 

How his scent lingers surrounding her body—intoxicating her.

His auburn eyes gave away something she didn't know she would see directed toward her—the look of desire driving her to bite her lower lip.

His gaze flitted between her enigmatic eyes and the enticing fullness of her lips, which she habitually teased with gentle bites. The moment she caught sight of the deepening shadows in his irises, the playful nibbling paused, leaving an electric tension hanging in the air.

Suddenly calling her name, Kunigami spoke, “Want to come to my place?”

As Kunigami gently closed the door behind him with a soft click, silence enveloped the room, amplifying the tension in the air. 

Shyly gesturing for her to join him on the bed, where they settled side by side, their bodies close yet each lost in their thoughts, fingers fidgeting nervously with the fabric of their clothes. The moment's warmth was overshadowed by a palpable sense of embarrassment as they dared not meet each other's gaze, both acutely aware of the unspoken emotions swirling around them.

But this didn't deter them, they were drawn to each other. Their pinkies grazed softly, igniting a spark of courage that allowed them to entwine their fingers.

Kunigami was the first to break, whispering her name as he  leaned in while lifting their locked hand prompting her to peek, his gaze intense as he cradled the back of her neck with his hand, pulling her close. 

Their lips finally met in a fervent kiss, sending a jolt of electricity between them. The world around them faded away, and the warmth radiating from his body enveloped her, creating a heady intimacy that wrapped them in a cocoon of shared emotion and desire.

With utmost care and respect, he treated her as a true gentleman should. She was a delicate flower, fragile and ethereal, reminiscent of fine porcelain. At that moment, his thoughts became a swirling haze, struggling to articulate the depth of his admiration for her beauty and grace.

Warm soft flesh that with every time he touches her, shivers and goosebumps travel through her body as she reacts softly whimpering and moaning for him, for more.

Pulling away for a fleeting moment, their lips parted, leaving a thin, glistening thread of saliva connecting him to the panting, curvy beauty in front of him. His mind swirled in a dreamy haze, while a shadowy intensity clouded his eyes once again.

A sudden gasp slips from her lips, as Kunigami holds her, bringing her onto his lap while he slowly moves his mouth to her neck.

 He moves along her throat quickly, becoming lost in the moment. Her skin was cool and it tasted just as good as he imagined it would. Her scent filled his nostrils bringing him to a heated daze, as he thanked Faith for leading him to this moment.

"Hmph~"

Very softly he began pressing kisses downwards to the crook of her neck. Growing more confident with the kisses when seeing the curvy beauty squirming, eyes closed with a flustered expression as his mouth drew small licks to her skin.

When he got to the right spot below her ear, he felt her inhale sharply.

Slowing his kisses gently flicking his tongue out to lick at the spot, one of her hands gripping the front of his shirt, while one of his moves to cradle the back of her neck. Guiding her to tilt her head back to give him more access to the tender skin.

Beginning to focus solely on that spot, kissing and licking, then nipping lightly. Receiving soft moans from her.

Music to his ears.

She's never felt this way or experienced anything like this at all. Bodies pressed against each other, chest to chest, her thick thighs on either side of him, and his impossibly warm and solid arms comfortably caging her soft form. As though not allowing her to go.

"Ah..."

She couldn't help the butterflies that erupted in her stomach at the thought of doing this with Kunigami and being so close and wrapped around him it made her skin hypersensitive everywhere he touched.

His touch was feather-light, lazily going down to her upper thigh massaging her thigh, doing nothing in which to soothe the ache between them.

He was gentle when he bit down on her sweet spot, planting his lips around it and sucking. Slowly began to suck harder and harder, she was certain there was a mark.

Back arched, knuckles white from the tight grip she had on Kunigami’s uniform as stuttered gasps slipped from her lips.

"R-Rensuke~"

He pulled away slowly, inhaling sharply when he caught the bruise forming.

“I... Sorry. I think I went too far.” Raspily panted out, putting his forehead against the crook of her neck, his tanned, calloused fingers gripping her flesh, grasping her fabric ass, and crushing her against his chest.

“D-Dummy…”

She gently cupped the side of his face, drawing him closer. Kunigami could see the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks, her lips slightly swollen from pouting. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, reflecting a mix of longing and vulnerability as she leaned in, heart racing, to kiss this beautiful man who captivated her so completely.

“Oh-”

She cries out, feeling his hands gently knead and massage her breast.

A rough hand held her chin, forcing her to face him fully to ignite a heated kiss. 

“K-Kunigami…kun -Hmph!”

"Say my name. Say my surname." He breaths between kisses.

"Uh- Rensuke!"

The sensations were electrifying, awakening every nerve as she surrendered to the strong arm wrapped around her waist. His fingers worshipped her curves, keeping her pinned to him.

He squeezed her breasts just enough to make her arch her back. Delicately drawing circles to her nipples through her shirt and bra.

Kunigami breaks from her lips, and his hand lifts her uniform shirt to her neck. The cool air hits her skin, giving her chills.

“A-Ah!” She softly moans, instinctively bringing her hand to grip his shirt.

“Cold?” Kunigami smirked.

Shyly nodding, she felt the mattress dip followed by his warm body over hers. He cups her soft titties with his rough calloused fingers, pinching her soft flesh causing them to peak even further at the contact.

Earning Kunigami a series of sweet breaths from the chubby Goddess underneath him.

She bit her lip when feeling Kunigami’s hot breath move closer to her swollen tits-covering each one in sloppy kisses, before pulling away while gently sucking in the skin.

Her hands, which had previously kept her lewd cries at bay and held up her blouse, now fisted his orange hair as his tongue traced her firm buds, writing out her name repeatedly.

She's going crazy, her tongue hanging out, her head in a daze, and her only thought is that she doesn't want her bliss to end.

“You’re perfect,” He raspy utters, taking her left nipple into his mouth and sucking it lightly, pulling it between his lips before letting it go.

"These," Kunigami moves to the right and keeps going, scraping the delicate bud with his teeth to indicate what he meant. "These are perfect."

Wrapping his lips once again around her right nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue around the juicy skin.

Soft moans and whimpers escaped her quivering mouth. She ached for this man desperately. Thighs rubbing together, panties soaked by her slick as she stares back at him with those doe-like eyes of hers. 

“Feels good?” Kunigami asked, popping off her tit while licking his lips.

“So good.” She hums, shyly feeling her cheeks heating up

“Are you really ok with this?” His warm, raspy voice teased her. 

He slowly removed the top of his uniform, gently loosening his tie and allowing it to hang freely around his neck before unbuttoning his shirt. Each undone button showed a glimpse of his chiseled, sun-kissed skin, catching her eye and making her heart speed up.

The sight of his perfectly sculpted physique, with defined muscles gleaming under the soft light, was utterly intoxicating. It clouded her thoughts and left her completely spellbound in his presence.

“It's ok… Because I want this too.” She confessed, doe-eyes visibly showing the desire she craved to receive from this man that it seemed like her irises were heart-shaped.

Damnit.

This wasn't good for Kunigami.

Why did you have to be so adorable?

With a warm, comforting grin that displays his adoration, Kunigami bends down trailing a line of kisses up her neck until he arrives at her mouth. Kissing her slowly, allowing himself the time to let his tongue explore every inch of her before they make sweet love.

However, it didn't stop there.

You and your gentleman entered a casual relationship that day. This arrangement is free of strings, removes worries about infidelity, and ensures that no one gets hurt.

Experiment with various positions, including doggie, mating press, and being pinned against a wall. And if you're feeling adventurous, add some cosplay and the setting—the school—to make it more interesting. Sneaking under the stairs for a nice fuck fest or at the top of the roof entranceway, offering the greatest sloppy toppy that made Kunigami's knees shake.

He's addicted to the feeling,  your mouth, tongue, hands just everything about his curvy goddess and the way she works him.

Cum and saliva dripped down the side of his length and down his balls as she sucked him thoroughly, even moaning around his flush tip for good measure. The sweet sensation overwhelmed his uncut hypersensitive dick, making him let out a hoarse moan but a soft whimper came out when she released him with a wet pop noise.

She giggles at his protest, letting up and ranking her nails and leaving sweet kisses on his inner thigh.

Just thinking about all they've done kept a grin on his face.

“Yo, Kunigami, why are you grinning like crazy?”

Snapping back from his drifting thoughts, he looked up at his friends, a light blush creeping across his cheeks. “Hmm, no, it’s nothing,” he managed to reply, his voice slightly hesitant. He sat at his favorite spot atop his desk, a clutter of books and notes forming a protective circle around him, while his friends gathered around, their laughter and chatter creating a warm, familiar atmosphere.

Yet that didn't stop Kunigami from drifting back, thinking about what he’d do with the sexy beauty tonight.

‘Maybe we can try some cosplay today?’

Usually, she sat in her assigned seat across the room, deeply engrossed in a book. Today, however, that seat was strangely empty, and Kunigami felt puzzled. His curiosity was piqued when he caught a glimpse out the window. There, standing beneath the cherry blossom tree, was the curvy beauty he had been searching for. But she wasn’t alone; standing opposite her was a male student he had never seen before.

They were lost in a conversation that felt like a secret, their words just beyond his reach. The mystery twisted in his gut, a relentless urge to know what was being said. 

‘Who is that guy?’ he thought, a whirlwind of unease brewing inside him. 

It should be stirring something deep within him, driving him to drop everything and rush to her like a man starved for connection. He ought to be showering her with compliments, easing her worries whenever she asks if he appreciates what she’s doing for him. Yet here he is, slumped in his desk chair, tangled up in his thoughts, hesitating.

“Is he her boyfriend?” The question lingered in the air, weighted with unspoken possibilities, stirring a mix of curiosity and jealousy that kept him on edge the entire time. He struggled to focus in class and at home, especially with her posing on his bed in his soccer jersey.

Kunigami tried to reassure himself that it was just a situationship—nothing serious, nothing to worry about. Yet, with every passing moment, that gnawing feeling of jealousy consumed him. What if she found someone who cherished her even more than he did? 

No, he couldn’t let those thoughts spiral out of control.

Kunigami was sitting on the bed with her above him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck.

“Hey… that guy you were with earlier, by the cherry blossom trees… is he your boyfriend?” He glanced at her, searching for any sign in her expression.

Her heart raced at the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s okay; you can tell me if he is,” he added, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and brushing his fingers against her cheek in a tender yet questioning gesture.

She was taken aback, her emotions boiling just below the surface. How could he be so oblivious to the depth of her feelings for him? Frustration coursed through her veins, and she fought to steady her breath. Did he truly not see what was right in front of him?

“I swear you're so dense, Kunigami-kun…” she muttered. Kunigami caught off guard, tilted his head to the side as she suddenly grabbed either side of his face and kissed him, initiating a full-on makeout session. 

Of course, he didn’t pull away; he could never do that. As they broke the heated kiss, he steadied her on his lap, still in shock. “W-What?” he stammered.

“You dummy! I wouldn’t do this with anyone I didn’t love!” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “Didn’t you notice how much I’ve changed because of you? Every time you share your thoughts on your ideals and dreams, I listen intently, hoping to absorb your passion and make it a part of who I am. I want to become someone you can finally see and appreciate before you leave me again. That’s why I…."

Her voice trailed off as she noticed his flustered expression, his cheeks dusted with a pink hue. Realization dawned on her, and she became shy, trying to come up with an excuse for her sudden confession.

“Ah- no. W-What I mean…”

“What’s this feeling of relief?” Kunigami thought, realizing how happy he was that someone had fallen for him. It was especially surreal coming from the curvy beauty who had essentially confessed to loving him even before he left for Blue Lock.

“-Ah!” A gasp cut through her throat at the swift motion, she’s pressed against the mattress with Kunigami hovering over her.

“What is it Kunigami-Kun?”

“Sorry…”

He confidently pulls her legs toward him, his lips brushing against the delicate anklet adorning her ankle. Their eyes lock, and at that moment, the air is charged with an undeniable energy, awakening a thrilling response deep within her.

“Sorry for not noticing.”

Giving a final kiss at the tip of her toes, before he wrapped her legs around his waist, tugging him closer to her and her slick heat.

Feeling the dizziness swirl in her head and the world around her blur, she caught sight of Kunigami. His hand was firmly wrapped around his cock, and the way he stroked it was both deliberate and intense, drawing her attention like a magnet until he bumped the head of his cock against her, pressing right at her swollen bud, responsive to his every move.

A low groan pulled from his throat with each inch of him she was able to take. A small roll of his hips had her sobbing and wiggling to get more of that delicious friction she ever so desired.

His hips leave hers, only for a second before slamming back against hers again, glistening juice leaving a connected thread that snaps against his own trimmed pubic hair.

Every slow action feels excessively slow for their desperate selves, yet each is deliberate. They understand how to prolong their pleasures and know the right spots to make them come undone.

Yet Kunigami held back, pretending he wasn't just as desperate for her, as if he truly had the self-control he feigned in her presence. And yet he wanted to throw all that away to throw her legs over his shoulder and fuck her in a mating press until they both passed out.

He just wants to make her completely his.

Shifting his angle, his cock was thrust deep inside of her, slow yet powerful, pleasure building and rising. 

"I won’t allow you to rest."

“Me too.”

The building in her belly reached a feverish pitch. Her abdomen became unbearably tight, her walls tightening around Kunigami’s cock, squeezing him and making him sigh in pleasure.

In a daze, she feels Kunigami's lips meet hers, igniting a passionate kiss that leaves no room for hesitation. She firmly locates his hands, grasping them with purpose as they connect in an exhilarating moment that demands attention.

The sound of skin slapping against each other was deafened by her cries of ecstasy. She whimpers, eyes rolling back and legs shaking, “Hm! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna…”

Mind going blank, lewd moans and ears ringing, her body finally succumbed to the pleasure he brought her. Her cunt clamped down on him, milking him for everything he got and forcing him deeper by insisting her legs remained locked around his waist as she continued to ride out her high. Kunigami nearly collapsed as a result. 

He breathes her name, an impassioned and urgent appeal that hovers in the air. Their foreheads meet, and for a minute, the world melts away—it's just the two of them, their breaths intertwining. Sweat glistens on their bodies, with drips falling from his moist bangs to her chest.

“I-I love you~”

Her eyes shoot open at his confession. 

“Me too. I love you so much,” she breathlessly admits, her voice trembling as she stares deep into his eyes, tears brimming in her own, shimmering like stars. With a rush of feeling, she pulls him closer, drawing him in for a kiss.

Kunigami uses this motion to slam his hips against hers one last time as he cums.

He kept himself steady as he emptied his last load, where he finally allowed himself to relax. As he enveloped her in his warm embrace, the softness of her curves pressed against him, creating a cocoon of intimacy. He felt a profound sense of comfort as if he were her safe haven, where worries melted away and only the enchanting rhythm of their heartbeats remained.

Oh, how she loves this man and how he means well with everything he's done, but with the sudden confession from the man she fell for, the heat flooded between her thighs once more.

She shifts their bodies, with her on top and a shocked Kunigami on his back. She straddles over him, Her fingers trailing along his toned chest. She gives him a lustful look and licks her lips.

“Now I believe someone owes me a night filled with restlessness; I hope it's not a lie.” She teases.

“Never.” He growls, his callus fingers digging into the fat of her thighs. 

Unable to resist her anymore, Kunigami confidently grasped the back of her neck and pulled her in closer, capturing her lips in a commanding kiss that left no doubt about his intentions.

In the end, someone who is willing to love the person for who they are is Kunigami Rensuke's ideal woman.

[lxzy-bxby]

Night Changes

Husband!Leon × Fem!Reader

Summary: Nine months of navigating through a new path. WC: 6,078 CW: MDNI ♡ SMUT (breeding kink-ish+unprotected p-in-v+creampie-ish) ♡ TOPICS (chubby body+self-negativity+non-acceptance of aging) ♡ No use of Y/N ♡ Explicit language ♡ No proofreading AN: i hope you all will find a person who'll make it way easier to dive into scary depths. or you can become one to yourself. love is boundless, love is strength, love is power. that relates to self-love, too. we all are driven by love. love wins all. and every human being is worthy of it.

~ ♡ ~

Dining table is bursting with dishes—something that haven’t happened in a long time. Even though Leon finally retired and you two now could finally have meals together, you usually settled with simple omelette or lasagna. But tonight you went all out, using this as an opportunity to show off your impeccable culinary skills. You even insisted that Leon needs to bring the most expensive wine from the basement, because a reason like this is a must—your daughter and her husband visiting for dinner.

You fuss around her as if she’s five years old again, refilling her and your son-in-law’s plates and glasses. You glance at the table, checking if you forgot to get them anything—caviar, roast beef, Caesar salad, mushrooms… You decide that there's not enough of mashed potatoes on Grace’s plate and lean over to put some more.

Leon’s arm immediately snakes around your waist, tugging you down persistently. “Take a seat already, will you? Scampering around like a decapitated chicken, and your own plate’s still full.”

That grounds you a big little. You suddenly feel very embarassed because you’re running around like a madwoman, indeed. So you take a seat, immediately grabbing your cutlery while your husband’s hand makes itself welcome on your thigh underneath the table.

Comfortable silence draws out whilst everyone enjoy their food; only occasional clatter of forks disturbs it.

Then Leon clears his throat. “So, how you’ve been settling in? House’s good? Need any fixing?”

Grace’s lips immediately stretch out in a giddy smile. “It’s great! I can’t believe we got a place of our own already. All thanks to you two.”

“Come on now, honey. We’re your parents. It was our duty to make sure you got a place to live in after you grow up.” You smile chastely, barely realizing what you’re talking about— your daughter’s very own dwelling. That she shares with her husband.

“So I take it place’s alrighty, huh? With the way you smilin’.” Leon grumbles, twirling a glass of beer—like hell he would drink wine—in his hand.

“Yeah, of course!” Gracie nods eagerly, “Everything’s perfect. Anyway, I got Owen with me, so if anything happens, y’all don’t have to worry.” She turns to smile at her husband tenderly. He smiles back at her as he strokes her knuckles lovingly.

Your heart melts at the view—yet Leon’s jaw tenses. You bite on your lip.

Owen’s a good guy—great, even. Him and your daughter met back in college just a few years ago and he, being two school years older, proposed as soon as she graduated. Money was never a problem for your family with Leon’s salary, yet your kid decided to have a small wedding—memorable one, nonetheless. Two months ago the two celebrated their first wedding anniversary.

So yeah, you’re cool with Owen. He got a tech major, earns the big bucks, got a car and a house—but Leon was adamant on the newlyweds living in a residential that you two got for Grace in advance back when she was barely out of high school, and on your daughter still driving her own Camry she got on her sweet sixteen, not just Owen’s G-Wagen. Just because Leon is Leon, who still couldn’t believe that your little bird flies out of her nest. Another man is now responsible for her—not him. And that drove him crazy.

Hence no wonder he looks like a kicked doberman puppy, realizing that your girl does not need to run to him for help anymore. So now you always have to play the victim (or more a hero who saves his ego) and be the one who needs his help all the time, no matter what with—opening the water bottle or moving your vanity to another corner of the room.

You intertwine your fingers with Leon's under the table in gesture of silent affection. He relaxes a tad, one corner of his mouth twitching up wryly.

Your daughter and her husband exchange a glance. You see Gracie chewing on her lips as Owen whispers “it’s okay, baby”, stroking her cheek reverently.

“Speaking of that… I think it’s better we move to my house nevertheless, Mrs. Kennedy.” Owen suddenly speaks up, his gaze locking with yours.

You arch your eyebrow, feeling Leon tense again next to you, as well. “Why’s that? Didn’t you just convince me you enjoy your new home?”

Leon turns his face away demonstratively. As if he isn’t like this with you all the time, you snicker inwardly.

Grace abruptly stands up, so does Owen. Your brows fly even higher up as you realize that something’s about to be revealed. While your eyes zero out on the couple, your hand blindly reaches out for Leon’s on pure distressed instinct, and he catches it immediately, squeezing reassuringly.

“Mom, Dad…” Gracie starts hesitantly, her eyes flickering between you and Leon. “I… We’re having a baby. You’re gonna be grandparents.”

…

Air gets knocked out of your lungs.

“What?” You and Leon utter in unison, eyes wide as saucers.

“…Here,” Owen pushes a small gift box, tied with a bow, towards you two. “Gracie prepared those for everyone, wanted to make it special, but got too nervous tonight to follow the plan.”

You tear the wrapping with shaky hands and open the box. Inside, nestled on top of pink and blue paper shavings, lays a oh-too-familiar to you stick with two pink lines. While you take it, Leon grabs a stacked piece of fabric situated next to it. As he unfolds it, it turns out to be a tiny infant bodysuit—white with black ‘THE BEST PARENTS get promoted to GRANDPARENTS’ printed in cursive over it. You stare at it, dumbfounded, and feel tears already trailing down your cheeks.

“No way…” You all but whimper, rubbing your misty eyes.

Seeing the way Grace grows more and more pale with every second, you jump onto your feet and rush towards your daughter, squeezing her in your arms.

“How long… since when… How are you feeling, baby?” You mutter somewhere to her shoulder, fully crying now.

“I’m okay… Nauseous sometimes, and can’t fully realize the whole thing, but… Better than I imagined.” Grace smiles softly, rubbing your back.

“Yeah, toxicosis can be rough… But it’ll pass, baby. Ginger or herbal tea works good…” You give Grace a whole damn speech, completely forgetting about anything and anyone else.

Leon just slumps in his seat, his face unreadable. Not hostile… but impenetrable. While you busy smoldering your daughter, he eyes Owen, clears his throat, then gets up, walks up to him and pats his back.

“You do realize if you hurt her given this predicament you put my daughter in, from now on I won’t just cut off your head—I’ll cut off your balls as well, right?” He says, making Grace’s husband laugh nervously.

“Leon!” You chide him sternly, but get zero response.

“Swear to me she’ll never regret bearing kid conceived from you.” Leon demands, looking the young man dead in the eyes.

“I swear, Mr. Kennedy.” Owen replies right away, his eyes meeting Leon’s. It’s like their gazes are fighting—and none is willing to submit.

You interfere, practically dragging Leon from him. “Stop it. It’s about your daughter. Don’t you dare starting your testosteronish feud.”

Gracie laughs heartily. “You are grey, Dad!”

Leon’s jaw clenches, yet he doesn’t object and just nods before he walks over to Grace, who looks at him timidly.

“So that’s why you wasn’t drinking… Decided to make me a gaffer before I even go grey, huh?” He mutters as he embraces your daughter protectively.

“And you’re way too young to be pregnant.” Leon grumbles, squeezing her tight.

“I’m literally in my mid-twenties!” She exclaims. “Didn’t Mom have me even earlier?”

“Yeah well, I knew that I risked becoming cockless when I knocked her up. Does your husband know?” He throws another glare at Owen.

You switch to drastic measures. “Kennedy.”

“Which one?” Leon inquires nonchalantly.

”I’m not a Kennedy anymore!” Gracie chuckles, clearly more relaxed now.

“Like hell you aren’t.” Leon rumbles, displeased, only hugging her tighter. “Was born as one, will always be one.”

You nod, surprised, because when you found out you was pregnant with her, you already was pushing the whole ass third month—completely ignoring the constant throwing up, believing it was just a stomach bug, as if Leon didn’t shoot his loads deep inside of you almost every night before.

“You know how far along you are, baby?” You smile at your daughter, trying to get everyone back to safe kinda conversation territory.

“Ah, not far at all. Just nearing three weeks.” Grace mirrors your smile, trying to squirm out of her father’s grasp—and failing.

“So… barely one month in, huh?” Leon mutters. “A bumpy road ahead, then. Considering the fact that we thought you was throwing goddamn parties back in your mother’s womb… Got me wonderin’ if that passes down through generations.”

“Don’t scare her, Leon!” You hiss as you swat at him lightly. “It’s going to be okay, baby. Just take care of yourself and let Owen take charge.”

Gracie, obviously not scared since she barely understood what she gotten herself into, just laughs. “Sure thing, Ma—oh, I’m sorry, I meant grandma.”

You snicker, “Not funny. Your father’s gonna go into cardiac arrest or send your husband into traumatic surgery if you’ll keep going.” You then pat her back, lightly pushing both Leon and Owen towards the table. “C’mon, back to dinner, everyone! We surely do have a thing to feast about now.”

You put your Kindle on your nightstand and turn the lights on your side off. Gloom envelops the bedroom as you rest your head on your pillow, exhaling. You surely do need to get a nice sleep after the news that got thrown at you tonight.

~ ♡ ~

1st Month

Leon’s side of the bed is eerily quiet. You roll a bit closer, wondering if he’s even breathing. He does—and stares at the ceiling in the dark, that one Passenger song vibe.

“Same old empty feeling in your heart?” You hum intoning, unable to resist.

Leon drifts his eyes to you, gazing at you like you’re a fucking halfwit.

You decide to bury yourself further. “Well… Y’know, need the light when it’s burning low, need the sun when it starts to sn— Okay, bad timing, right. Sorry, sorry.”

With the way he looks at you, you’re positive he’s divorcing you as soon as the sun is up.

So there’s no bounds to your surprise when his arms tug you to his chest, his nose burying in your hair. You freeze, not knowing any better what to do, just letting him sniff and squeeze and do anything else to you.

“Can’t fucking believe it.” Leon mumbles, voice muffled against the top of your head. “I’m going to gift this asshole condoms for the rest of his goddamn life.”

You chuckle, rubbing his bare back. “She was going to get pregnant eventually. Owen’s not the worst option. I think he’s gonna be a good dad. And he treats Gracie great, never heard a complaint from her.”

Leon scoffs. “Good dad my ass. She’s gonna call him Daddy now, not me! I mean when referring to him while speaking to her spawn, y’know. That’s fucking insane.”

“Babe, you need to calm down. Won’t do your heart any good.” You trace his vertebrae with your fingertips.

“Take that back,” Leon frowns, raising his head. “What do you think I am, seventy?”

You giggle, poking his skin gently. “You’re pushing fifty, hon.”

”FYI… Well, first things first, I know what FYI means. And also, I’m still pretty much in my prime.” Leon declares as his hands go wandering shamelessly, settling on your butt-cheeks.

“So what now? Thinkin’ I’m offside now?” He grumbles, sliding a bit lower on the bed.

“Just stating the facts.” You shrug as he pulls you on top of him.

”I didn’t dispute, babe.” You laugh. “I’m not getting any younger as well.”

”You are younger than me.” He grumbles, kneading your ass. “But, I’ll always be able to get it up with you looking that smoking hot.”

That makes you laugh even harder. “Well, why’d you think about that? If I remember correctly, we got zero problems with you gettin’ it up.”

“That’s right. And you’re currently doing a great job at getting it up. Layin’ here ass up, putting those titties on me.” Leon smirks as his palm slaps your rear lightly.

You squeak, making his grin go only wider. He squeezes your flesh for a bit more before his gaze suddenly grows serious, his hand stills as his eyes search yours. “Wanna knock you up again.”

You choke on your saliva. “That so?”

“Mhm.” He hums as he pushes you off him softly, his lips travelling down your neck. “Curious if I still can.”

You let out a shaky breath. “So planning on giving it a try?”

Leon nods, his fingers already slipping underneath your underwear. “Right away, gorgeous.”

You squeeze out a sound of acknowledgment, your chest rumbling with barely contained laughter.

The dude who was dead set on proving you that aging does not affect him, forgot you got an IUD.

You wipe your palms on your apron before taking it off finally.

~ ♡ ~

2nd Month

”Babe, dinner!” You call out as you hang you apron on a rack.

“Yeah thanks, hon.” Leon mutters from the living room, and you stick your head out to see what he’s been up to. Usually he rushes straight into kitchen.

What you didn’t except to see is your husband on the couch, flipping the pages of pink photo album, “GRACE ISABELLA KENNEDY (Gracie) Born 04/22/20** 05:12 AM” written in your hand at the cover.

“Haven’t opened this thing since her birthday this year.” You smile, taking a seat next to him.

Leon keeps silence. You gently squeeze his free hand.

“She’s been so teeny. Puffy cheeks, bunny teeth before she convinced us to get her braces, always peeing her diapers at 3 A.M. And she always wrote letter ‘R’ backwards, remember?” He croaks out, fingers tracing his favourite photo—you, two decades younger, holding a pink bundle in your arms by the entrance of maternity hospital.

“She did.” You smile softly.

Leon sighs deeply, staring into the picture for a few more minutes. “I never thought she’d grow up so fast. Feelin’ like a selfish bastard, but I wish she’d stay with us forever.”

You move even closer to him, embracing his larger frame. “Hey. She’s still our daughter. Just an adult now.”

He leans closer to you, molding your bodies together. “Nah. Never gonna be able to perceive her that way.”

You sigh, resting you head on Leon’s shoulder. His fingers comb through your hair absently, lost in thought. You know you need to give him time to accept this whole thing, and you just hope it’ll be better as it’ll go.

But he needs to consume at least some freaking food even more.

“You have to eat.” You nudge Leon gently, getting up and pulling him with you.

With zero objections and a grouchy ‘yes ma’am’, he follows your lead and plops down once again by the table.

You both go to bed early that night. In the morning when putting his phone off charger, you catch a glimpse of his lockscreen.

The very same picture of you and newborn Gracie he was staring at last night.

“And those pictures she sent tonight, right? She’s showing already, I can’t wrap my head aroun— Fuck… feel so good, baby.” Leon grunts as he fucks you into the mattress.

~ ♡ ~

3rd Month

You’d eagerly carry on the conversation if his cock wasn’t slamming your cervix every time you try to inhale. All you’re able to do is to let out filthy moans, clutching on to his back as he wrecks your cunt in missionary.

Leon pants, his dick pistoning in and out of you in a steady pace, not rushed yet penetration is still deep enough to turn your brain into mush. But Leon doesn’t even seem to fucking notice—except for moments when your walls flutter around his shaft—and just plunges into your pussy absentmindedly.

…Just your casual white noise type of sex. Isn’t that common among all the other couples?

“Just thinking about it… That’s my grandkid my kid is carrying.” He rasps, holding your upper side a bit above the bed.

He pulls away from your mouth; string of saliva connecting you breaks as soon as he starts to speak. “…How far along she gotta be to know the gender?”

He’s in you so deep, you honestly can’t even realize how he’s able to speak coherently. You just moan as he bottoms out once again, dick nestled so far in you—you only see his greying pubic hair when looking down at where you two are connected and his balls pressing against the slit of your ass. You let out another moan, even more dirty, as he slams back into you after almost pulling out completely, and grasp his head to pull him into the sloppiest kiss human could ever perform. That’s why you both love missionary—licking into each other’s mouths while his cock gives your cunt a straightforward beating. Leon prefers you riding him a little bit more, though, but with those creaking bones and aching joints you thought it’d be more like a circus touring in your bed.

Leon snarls hoarsely into your mouth, as if just realizing that you two are actually in the middle of pretty much something, and his tongue attacks yours. You two kiss like wild animals, licking and sucking, and, from the way his hips start moving faster and messier, you suppose that eases his mind a little.

At this point, you just whine.

“They planned gender party for next month, can we please stop discussing things like this during moments like these?” You mewl, trying to pull him back in to lick and kiss and suck and bite his lips.

Leon succumbs, his lips moving against yours for couple of seconds more—and then he’s off again. “Those youngters… What the fuck even is gender pa—”

”Leon,” Something in between of moan and groan slips off your lips as you move your hips to meet his, capturing one of his palms and bringing it down to your wailing clit. He blinks, looking at you guiltily, before getting back to business and torturing your swollen nub, rolling it between his calloused fingers while his cock moves so fast, probably trying to dig a fucking hole inside of you.

You cry out, your whole body jolting from the intensity, tits jumping up and down. One of your nipples is suddenly in his mouth, thumb rubbing your clit in systematic circles and dick hitting that same spot with every thrust.

Quite enough for you to cum. You’re not getting any younger, Leon doesn’t too—yet this time he lasts even longer than you, too deep in thoughts to bust a nut as soon as your walls milk him for cum.

He finally registers your cunt pulsating around him and growls lowly, fucking you through your orgasm. You keep mewling while he chases his own release, squeezing your sides.

With a shuddering moan, he enters you balls-deep as his cock twitches inside of you and floods your guts with hot thick cum. He pumps in and out a few more times, some of fluid spilling out of you, but you’re too blissed-out to pay attention to anything going on inside or outside.

Leon collapses on top of you, still not pulling out, his cock sheltering inside of your snug and warm cunt. That feels as good as a bit overstimulating—but again, too blissed-out.

He rolls you two to the side, him facing you. “You alright?” Leon whispers, brushing some wet strands of hair off your forehead.

You nod, tugging him closer to you. He complies, connected to you in every way possible.

Leon lets out a deep sigh. “I swear I’m going goddamn nuts. Thinking about this whole shitshow while fuckin’ the tightest cunt.”

You hum. “I get it, no worries. But I honestly thought I’d kill you if you didn’t shut up and make me cum.”

Leon chuckles, velvety and warm.

Not before his expression changes completely.

“I… I didn’t pull out while busting, y’know right?”

You look down at where you two are connected eloquently. Take a fucking guess, you think.

Leon grows even paler. “Listen, I… I gotta get you a plan B. I know I told you I wanted to knock you up again, but that was like in heat, you know… We’re gonna have our hands full with Gracie’s kiddo already. I mean, do you want another one? Would you be able to carry it? We can discuss, but— Not right now maybe, huh babe? …Wait, you didn’t get menopause yet, right?”

You enjoy the look on his face while you burst out laughing—the power this man has over you, making you nicker stupid after making you cum even more stupid.

And you definitely ain’t planning on telling him about your godforsaken intrauterine.

You almost have steam is coming out of your ears.

~ ♡ ~

4th Month

“Couldn’t you ask me for it at home?” You hiss, tying Leon’s tie. “Why in the hell would you even wear a goddamn suit to a baby shower? We look like crazy.”

He just grins smugly, and you—by pure accident—tug on his tie a little bit too much.

Gracie’s gender party is hosted in the backyard of her and Owen’s house. Nothing fancy, just balloons, confetti, little jar where guests can put their predictions in.

You know it’s a girl. So you do put a pink little sticker inside, while Leon just grunts and says that this whole thing is stupid. You saw him throwing a pink sticker inside twenty minutes ago, though.

You glance around awkwardly, feeling like you two were odd ones out. You wore a simple floral sundress while Leon went all out—even combing his hair.

Country music plays quietly in the background from the speaker; you snitch a fruity canapé you yourself made an hour ago from small table with polka-dotted tablecloth in the corner.

“Gather up, everyone!” Gracie’s happy voice rings out.

She truly is glowing, her bump visible in a yellow sundress and golden locks spilling over her delicate shoulders. The way her husband looks at her makes you happy—so happy you don’t even notice that your own husband looks at you the very same way while you clap your hands excitedly.

You suppose someone’s gaze lingers on you way too long for Leon’s liking, because next second his arm snatches your waist tightly, pulling your body closer to his side.

Pink.

You two watch as your daughter takes her stance next to her husband, both clutching needles—yeah, that simple—and as soon as the small crowd chants ‘three’, they pop the pink and blue balloons.

The myriad of confetti splashes onto the green lawn.

A girl.

A granddaughter.

Tears escape your eyes before your brain even registers what your orbs saw. You hear everyone cheering, see Owen kissing Grace, notice that thanks God someone snaps a picture.

And what you feel is Leon’s hands enveloping your waist while his lips settle on yours, kissing you tenderly and slowly.

You want to protest, to tell him that you two should make it about Gracie, that him kissing you right now probably looks out of place and attention-seeking, but instead you just return the kiss, arms circling his neck.

That truly is magnificent—the way the product of your love creates another human out of the very same love.

Soapy water skims down your body as you rub your sternum with a loofah. Showers are your own kind of therapy. Steamy or chilly, quick or continuous… Like a physical reincarnation.

~ ♡ ~

5th Month

“Is gifting them pink onesie gonna be sexist? I’m not tryna joke about it, really, know that’s serious, I get it that colors are stigmatized, but… I dunno, pink is cute. For boys, too. Stereotypes suck. But they’re havin’ a girl. Will that make them think I’m an old goofer who believes that pink is strictly girly?”

Ah, yes.

Must not forget velcro-husband.

Whenever people came over and saw you two walking out of bathroom together, they told you to get a room. When you reassured them that you just washed your hands while he did potty, they looked at you like you told them you kick puppies.

And of course everybody considered it a necessity to mention that your marriage will flop if you’ll keep doing grossy things in presence of each other.

Well yikes, because it did not flop, in fact. You always have someone to talk to whenever you use bathroom. And those jerks have not. So fuck them.

You snicker, shampooing your hair. “I like pink. Gracie does too. Think that will do. But we shall go for neutrals, too. Like… beige, white, gray. We can go take a look, like… Target, dunno. Walmart. Or baby store.”

Concept of shame stops existing when you’re nearing your pearl anniversary.

So if he takes a piss while you’re showering, that does not mean you’ll stop wanting to ride his cock until it goes flaccid later that night.

Leon snorts. “Yeah well, haven’t done baby shopping in a minute.”

You snort as well, gaze flickering briefly to him. He winks at you, as if he isn’t currently aiming to the toilet bowl.

You roll your eyes, turning your face back to shower wall, lips twitching in a smile. Goofball.

Leon tucks himself back in, flushing the toilet and as you reach for the soap bar, he’s already next to you, arms pulling you close to his chest.

“My God, won’t you at least take your clothes off?” You gasp, feeling thin and soaked through fabric of his shirt rubbing against your bare back.

“Nah. Want you to see that I’d make any sacrifices in the name of love.” He grins, squeezing your tits.

Your eyes wander to the floor, suddenly self-conscious. For millionth time—you’re not getting any younger. Obviously he has seen you in your not the best shape when you recovered from childbirth, but that was decades ago. Now it’s different.

You’re aging.

He does, too—but he’s a man. He’d be considered a DILF. You’d be considered an victim of cyberbullying.

You see first grey hairs on your head, you gain weight—and you never was skinny by standards in the first place, you feel your skin stretched and taut and changed and you think you look like a piece of shit.

Until he’s next to you—and you suddenly feel like you’re Victoria’s Secret angel or something.

Somehow he reads it all in your gaze.

”I’d put you on cover of Playboy right now.” Leon smirks, his hands sliding down to your hips.

“You’d be the only one to buy this issue, then.” You joke, throwing your head back to rest it on his shoulder.

“Of course. Because there’d be only one issue, silly. I wouldn’t want those models to lose their jobs and throw eggshels to our windows.” He deadpans, stroking the dough of your thighs softly. “Or deal with paparazzi.”

You chuckle, then smiling softly. “You’re unbearable. But… that does make me feel better.”

Leon hums, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of your neck and then casually striking you with the most romantic and deep shit you’ve ever heard. “When I married you, I married the fact that I want to go through it all with you, be young and in love, grow old and grumpy together. Sure as hell I did not marry your flesh. It tells our story, you know.” He traces a scar on your leg. “That was when I forgot my wallet and we had to run before they’d get us our check.” He then moves to your stomach. “This one is not here currently, but there was a mark of you carrying Gracie.”

He then cups your face, tracing a wrinkle right under your eye. “And this one… a milestone. With a claim of spending lifetime together.”

Leon swipes off the tear that forms exactly there a second later, then kissing the soft skin.

You open your mouth, close it again, and when you open it next time, you close it around his lips.

Because, after all, all the fairy-tales do end with a kiss from Prince Charming. Even if he dadjokes and keeps asking where are the socks he currently is wearing.

“Look, we have to get this one!” You exclaim as you hold up one of the tiny bodysuits for Leon to see. It’s adorable—baby pink with a big bow and ‘princess since day one’ written in the middle.

~ ♡ ~

6th Month

He chuckles, nodding. “When you was pregnant with Gracie, we barely bought something… that nice. Good thing your side of the family gifted us tons of all this stuff.”

You smile meekly. “I do remember. That’s why I try to… compensate it, I guess. By gifting her own daughter tons of all this stuff.”

Leon’s face softens, his arms wrapping around your shoulders. “Then let’s shop to your heart’s content.”

You move through aisles, Leon obediently collecting everything to your basket—booties, sliders, vests.

”We can’t forget diapers!” You exclaim, “Those are so expensive nowadays. Especially since Owen’s family insisted on buying all those strollers and bassinets. Oh Gosh, can’t forget car seat, too!” You keep rambling.

Leon pecks your cheek with a chuckle. “It’s like you’re shopping for your own.”

”It is my own. My… grandkid.” You declare, grabbing a pack of Pampers.

You two keep navigating through the store, his arm around your waist. By the time you spend 15 more minutes, your basket is full with baby stuff.

“May I help you?” You hear friendly voice from behind; turn around only to see a sales assistant, nice young lady.

“Uh, no, thanks, we’re good.” You smile sweetly.

“Got it. Don’t hesitate to ask for help if anything. And congratulations on your journey!” She returns the smile, subtly eyeing your stomach.

Your cheeks flush. “I-it’s for our daughter. I-I mean, she’s having a baby! So it’s for her baby. Yeah.”

Smile of the woman falters, but she pulls it on once again, nodding understandingly. “Ah, I see. My apologies, ma’am. Like I said, don’t hesitate to reach out for assistance.”

She walks away, and you turn to Leon.

”Do I… look that young?” You mutter.

Leon snickers, patting your back. “You have no idea, baby.”

Immediate confidence-boost. As if he didn’t try to prove the same thing to you every other night.

“So, have you thought of names?” You smile softly, feeling Grace’s bump reverently.

~ ♡ ~

7th Month

The living room of their house is cozy, even more so in expectancy of arrival. You sit next to Gracie on the couch while Leon and Owen sit on armchairs across you two.

“Ah, that…” Gracie suddenly smiles conspiratorially. Then her gaze softens; she looks directly in your eyes. “Well… You’re getting a namesake, Mom.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice.

You think that you probably look stupid blinking that much.

“Huh?”

Owen pipes in since Gracie barely contains her happy giggles, “We’re naming her after you and my mother, Mrs. Kennedy. Your name first, since you’re Gracie’s mom. My mother’s name gonna be the middle one. Just thought… We feel like this is the right thing to do, considering how much you put into our family. Besides, we do like your name quite a lot. Hope you do not mind?” He smiles warmly.

So you do another thing you do perfectly—cry.

“Aw, come on now, Mom! I always told you your name is so pretty.” Grace wraps her arms around you, her belly bumping into your side.

You catch Leon’s gaze, his mouth stretched in a grin. “I suppose you’re plannin’ on making a boy and naming him after me?”

Grace snickers. “Nah, Dad. That’s Mom-exclusive option.”

“Right. After all, she did all the hard job.” Leon smiles, getting up lazily and making his way to you.

”Why do you all make everything about me…” You mutter, finding solace in his arms.

”Everything has always been about you, babe. It’s only you just noticing.” He breathes to your ear, pressing your head close to his chest.

More like close to cloud nine.

You barely slept recently. The closer Grace’s due date is, the more nervous you get.

~ ♡ ~

8th Month

So to prevent yourself from going completely nuts, you go ahead and deep clean. The whole damn house.

Even the attic.

Especially the attic.

Attic resembles a history book. A very sad one at that, you think as you discover a bag full of Gracie’s old things.

Realization of your kid growing up hit you way too late. Even Leon seemed to get used to the thought.

Her favourite stuffed teddy bear, the one you stitched over and over again. Her AC/DC teeshirt, because your girl had an emo-phase like a decent lady should. Her old iPod, Harry Styles on lockscreen. And a pile of her drawings.

Long story short, you cried. Again. Of course you did. Not just cried. Weeped. Wailed.

Sticking to the role of mother for recent years of your life, you suddenly feel… lost. Undue.

It finally gets to you that you are getting older indeed, for Christ’s sake. And you have no idea what to do about it.

So it’s just you, your existential crisis and Gracie’s drawings in the attic.

Then you discover her baby blanket, and you swear to God you’ll never visit attic again.

And that’s exactly how you fall asleep—hugging your grown-ass daughter’s baby blanket.

When you wake up, you’re not in attic. You’re in your bed. With Leon next to you. He’s deep asleep already, but still grips you tight and keeps you close to him.

Your heart clutches in your chest. So he carried you.

Out of dark and into the light.

Literally and figuratively.

So when you smear a kiss against his cheek and he pulls you closer reflexively, you realize something important.

He’s here. He really is here. Always was. Always is. Always will be.

Literally and figuratively.

8lbs, 21ln, 1:27 PM.

~ ♡ ~

9th Month

Your granddaughter was born.

Of course you firstly check on your own daughter, making sure she’s in one piece, helping her drink and eat and do anything she needs.

Then the nurse brings in your granddaughter, and you just have zero idea what to do. Just like a first-time mother all over again.

You hold her tiny body, support her tiny head, look at her tiny eyes, gently touch her tiny nose… and feel like you have gone through another pregnancy.

Technically, you have.

“Looks just like her mama, right?” Leon rasps right above your ear.

You jolt at the word, but then you snap your head towards Gracie and realize that you’re not the only mother here now.

“Can you help me hold her?” Leon says quietly, and you immediately give him a big smile.

You guide him, making sure his hands hold the newborn tight and secure. Seeing him with a baby feels surreal; he’s all giddy and hesitant. Just like a first-time father all over again.

You move closer to Leon, perching your chin on his shoulder.

“Does it feel any different for you? Well, I mean from Gracie. Because I honestly feel the same. Nervous, all that shit… You’d guess I’d be seasoned by now.” Leon chuckles, tracing infant’s puffy cheek.

“That’s the thing that will never change.” He corrects you as he gently passes the babygirl back to her mother.

You do not take your eyes off him when you reply. “It does not. Not when I’m with you. That’s the thing that never changes.”

Leon’s eyes dart towards you, so tender and affectionate you feel butterflies.

Then you finally lock eyes and lips.

Both having to navigate a new chapter of your life. Just like a first-time grandparents.

It’s simple as that—if he’s by your side, then you’re ready to.

With him being your constant amongst all the changes.

~ ♡ ~

We're only gettin' older, baby

And I've been thinkin' about it lately

Does it ever drive you crazy

Just how fast the night changes?

But there's nothin' to be afraid of

Even when the night changes

It will never change me and you.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Halloween Party (Wade/Logan)

Description: Y/N, Wade and Logan have fun on the dance floor at their Halloween party.

Warning: Smut

Word Count:1,128

Request: nsfw mayhaps.. but Logan and Wade with a Younger!Witchy reader between like 19-21 ish? (witch practitioner not a blood witch) shes chubby, looks like a witch, acts like a witch? maybe she wears a costume witches hat for halloween and ride logan while wade makes out with her and just praises her 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Author’s note: I didn’t talk too much about the reader’s size in this but she is 22 and she is a witch for halloween but it’s implied she’s a real witch.

Logan watched her as she walked around in her Halloween costume getting ready for the party. He wasn’t one for Halloween but since he and Wade moved in with Y/N who they saved from the void, he was alright with it. Y/N was way younger than them. 22 to be exact and though Logan would usually feel creepy about something like that, he actually couldn’t due to her being flirty with him.

She was incredibly sexy right now? Oh he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She was dressed like a witch and all he wanted to do was take her up against the counter in the costume. “Logan?” He snapped out of his daydream and looked at her as she gave him a confusing look. “What?” “Can you grab the cups from the cabinet?” She asked. He stood up and went to grab them for her. He was embarrassed to say the least. She called his name 3 times before she got an answer. Maybe he was distracted about the party?

He wasn’t one for that type of scene. “Anything else?” He asked and she shook her head and moved past him. His eyes never left her as she moved around the kitchen. Wade coming through the door was the only thing that made him come out of distraction. “Hello party bitches!” Wade said through the kitchen. Y/N greeted him and Logan raised an eyebrow at him, not impressed. “Here is your alcohol.” He handed Logan the bottle and handed Y/N her mixer for her drink that she was making.

Logan took a sip of his drink as he watched her make whatever she was making. He didn’t care for the fruity drink she was making. He liked the rough stuff like whiskey and she hated that. But he would watch her do anything. “You’re staring too hard.” Wade whispered to him, knocking him out of his daydream. He glared at him and Wade shrugged, “The plan won’t work if you make it so obvious.” 

Everyone was here for the party and though Wade was having the time of his life talking to all of his friends, Logan was hard as a rock watching Y/N dance in her costume. The dress was short and showed off her body perfectly. It was like she wore it to make him act up. She was teasing him.

But to Y/N she was doing no such thing and just having fun. Logan was going to stay and relax while Wade made his way over to their little witch. “Hey Wade.” Y/N yelled over the music. “Hey pretty girl, do you wanna dance?” He asked and she nodded. “As long as you can hide your boner.” She joked and he chuckled, “No promises. Especially if you’re grinding up against me.” He whispered in her ear.

She felt the heat pool between her legs at his words but ignored it as they began to dance. Logan watched as the two were all over each other and grinding in the living room. He bit his lip and his eyes moved to their bodies’ middle as her perfect ass moved against Wade’s crotch. It was so sexual and passionate but that’s just how they were when they danced. Logan’s pants were tighter than before and he couldn’t help but walk over to the pair. “Hey peanut!” Wade yelled to him over the music.

Y/N looked at him and gave him a sexy smile. He watched as she grinded harder against Wade and took his hands. She pulled Logan to her front and he looked down at her with a dark stare. “Dance with us.” She says to him and he chuckled, “You guys are basically fucking.” He tells her to which she can’t deny. She takes her hand and runs it up Logan’s hard on.

He nearly gasps and she chuckles, “You’re so hard Loggie, Join us.” She said and bit her lip. “Come on Wolvy, I’m close to cumming all over her ass.” Y/N heard that and pulled away from Wade and took Logan’s hands. He watched as she positioned herself so her ass was against his crotch now and started grinding. She started out slow at first building him up. Wade was a noisy fucker during sex, how was he silent during this if Logan was having a hard time not making noise?

He realized that the music was loud enough to cover up the noises. “Fuck.” He grunted feeling her ass hump his crotch. He wanted nothing more than to take her on the living room floor for everyone to see but he was better than that. Wade got in front of her as she grinded her hips against Logan and sighed, “Fuck this is hot.” He said and Logan agreed. “You’re a perfect piece of ass, sweetheart.” He told her as his hands gripped her hips.

Wade got closer to her and his hand traveled down to her short dress and went under it to her soaking wet panties. “Damn sweetheart, you and I both are soaked.” Wade said and she gasped as he began rubbing her clit. She was aching so bad and he could tell. He got close to her and began kissing her as Logan whispered dirty things in her ear. “I bet being between 2 older guys gets you going, doesn’t it?” He bit her ear as she moaned into the kiss that Wade was giving her.

His fingers rubbed faster against her gushy aching needy pussy and she was losing it. “Our perfect witch. I wouldn’t be surprised if you casted a spell on us. Haven’t even had a taste of your pussy but I miss it.” “Fuck.” She whined against Wade’s lips. She was close and it was taking everything in her not to cum right at the party. Everyone was dancing or doing their own thing but she felt filthy dancing and seducing 2 older guys, the guys that she lived with.

“Fuck sweetheart, you keep this up I’m gonna cum all over your ass.” He warns her and Wade sped his fingers up causing her to grab him and gasp as her high approached. Her hips stuttered making Logan grunt and cum in his pants. She wailed against Wade as she came in her panties.

Her breathing was hard as Wade worked his fingers to help her ride her climax. Logan rubbed her back to calm her down while Wade held her in his arms. “Fuck that was hot.” Wade growled and watched as she gave him a smile. Logan chuckled, “Huh we are the old ones but yet you’re tired.” He joked and she laughed and yawned. “Oh sweetheart and peanut. I have yet to cum so we aren’t finished just yet.”

[fungateshortcakes]

It was nice while it lasted

My (now ex) best friend just ended our four year friendship, said she didn't see any future in it because we weren't chatting as much as we used to. She was my best friend, but i wasn't hers. I probably haven't been for a while. My birthday is this sunday and I wished she hadn't done this just two days before my birthday. I need comfort, so here is a short Logan drabble♡

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant!reader

Wordcount: 1k-ish, maybe a bit less

Warnings: english isn't my first language, none, just fluff, and a bit angst, friends to lovers, implied chubby reader

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You sniffled quietly as you looked down at your bright phone screen. I'd like to break off contact. You read it over and over again. You had hoped you would never have to see these words, not with her. You were so stupid to think that your friendship would get repaired somehow.

You lived at the x men mansion, she lived far away in another city. So meeting each other was rare. The first time you met, she slept over in the mansion. Everyone liked her and you both had a great time. You would have done everything to get that back, that time, these moments when everything seemed like it was just how it was supposed to be.

After she finally found a job after searching for months, everything changed. She didn't answer your texts anymore, only if you were lucky. You tried to reach for her, tried to talk to her. But her replies were sparse and often dry. Said it was because she didn't know how to answer your texts and that she was so tired every day from work.

You tried to be understanding, tried to reassure her that it was alright. But when you saw pics of another girl on her instagram and later some random guy that turned out to be her new boyfriend, you felt it. That ache. You weren't her best friend any more. She could easily live without you. You were the only one suffering. You needed her, but she didn't need you.

You sat on your bed, wiping your tears. Why were you so damn stupid, you should have seen it coming. You were no ones favourite, you never have been. You weren't the number one for anybody, no one would chose you in a room full of people. You knew that, and that hurt.

Suddenly, the door to your room opened. It was Logan, he had a plate loaded with your favourite food in hand. He wasn't looking at you yet. "I got you some food, bub. Why weren't you down for dinner-" he started to ask but as he lifted his head and saw your tear stained face, his brows knitted together on his handsome face and he strided over to you with purpose, putting the plate on your beside table. "What's going on, bub?" He asked in the softest voice he could muster.

Your voice was hoarse and you just couldn't get a word out. He climbed into bed with you, sitting next to you and wrapping one arm around your shoulder to pull you against his side, his head on top of yours as he let you cry and shake in his arms. He wore that grey oversized sweater with nothing underneath. The fabric was so soft under your cheek. And so warm, smelling like him. You shoved your unrequited feelings aside, trying to calm your racing heart as he hugged you.

As Logan let you sob, his gaze shifted to your phone that laid abandoned on the sheets. I'd like to break off contact. He read the name over the chat and it dawned on him. He didn't need more information to know exactly what happened. You had always talked about your best friend and he had even met her one time. She was decent back then, but you would always come to him to vent when your best friend did something that hurt you. He had always told you to drop her, that she wasn't good for you, that you had so many friends and people that actually loved you around you every day. With people he meant himself. He loved you so much but never spoke up.

There was a time where he thought you and your best friend were together. Back then you'd get that question a lot because you were just that close. He was a bit salty about it and secretly hoped you would break up. When he found out you weren't actually together, he was awfully happy about it, a kick in his step.

As bad as it sounded, he was glad that the horror was finally over. He had witnessed your mental health worsen every time you beat yourself up over your best friend. He was frustrated when you blamed everything on yourself and wouldn’t see how bad she was for you. Still, he understood your tears. There had been a time where she really was your best friend and you loved her, you could tell her anything back then. And that was the version of her that you missed, the version you still held onto.

"I know this sounds rough, but you are better off without her" he mumbled against your temple, planting an experimental kiss there. As you didn't back away, he saw it as an invitation to leave his lips pressed against the side of your head. You hiccuped, nuzzling even further into him. "Why...why does it always happen to me? Why can't I keep friends, why do I always get so attached when I am worth nothing for the other person?" you questioned, voice thick from the tears. "All I want is to be loved by someone just as much as I love them" you muttered, swallowing the lump in your throat, but it didn't seem to budge.

He loved you. He loved you like you loved him. He did, so badly. But both of you didn't know. And it was eating you up inside.

You pulled back to look into his eyes "Am I unloveable, Logan? Don't lie to make me feel better" you asked him. You always told you that you couldn't be loved. But slowly you really started to believe it. I mean, who could possibly love someone like you? You were chubby, pretty introverted and didn't dress like the average. You had been bullied all your life for your looks, your personality and your mutation. The fat funny friend is who you were, the one that got asked out as a joke and was told, that they couldn't imagine you in a relationship. It was something you never truly learned to live with. You tried to hold onto the illusion that was love, hoped that one day it would find you like in the sappy romance movies you watched. You doubted it.

Your question hit Logan like a ton of bricks. "Unloveable? Are you even hearing yourself?" He asked and you had never seen him this shocked. You couldn't understand why. You had expected him to agree with you, allthough you never wanted to hear that from him.

Ever so gently, he held your soft face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his strong thumb. "You are the most easiest person to love, trust me on that"

Unbelieving, you shook your head. "I said don't lie-" you started but he shushed you quickly, your head secure in his grip as he forced you to look at him. "Look into my eyes and tell me that I am lying. Come on. Say it" he urged you on, his gaze intense and burning that it took your breath away, silencing any words you might have had. Even though you didn't correct him, he knew you weren't believing him.

He sighed, it would take a while to get all these insecurities out of your head. And your heart. But you were worth that effort.

"Let me show you just how much I love you" he mumbled before your heart threatened to jump out of your chest as his lips landed on yours. It was everything you had ever hoped it would be and you could almost not believe that this was real, that you weren't dreaming.

Pulling away, more tears spilled over your cheeks and Logan panicked. "Oh- shit, I'm sorry, that wasn't right of me" he coughed, his neck burning red in embarrassement. He was taking advantage of you, wasn’t he?

But before he could slide off your bed, you pulled at his sleeve. "No, no, it was alright. You couldn't have reacted any better" you giggled through your tears. His breath hitched as you zipped down his hoodie to snuggle against his warm, bare chest. You could feel his heartbeat quicken underneath your ear, though Logan quickly eased against the contact.

He zipped his hoodie back up behind you, keeping you close to him as you cuddled and kissed on your bed with this newfound information of you both having pinned for each other for years. You felt warm and safe and for the first time in a while, you felt like everything would be okay.

As long as he was with you.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

This was painful to write and incredibly personal in some aspects. I know that this probably won't gain as much attention because of that, as it may not be relatable for most.

But still, if you are going through something similiar, you aren't alone. There are many people that struggle, that feel this way about themselves. And while knowing that this doesn't really sooth the ache, it will get better. One day. I hope.

[stormywanderer]

Fields of Mistria is SHOUJO content and Caldarus is AS EXPECTED

I already went off on Reddit 3-4 days ago but I see the "use twink as a slur" group are also here on Tumblr which is sad and frustrating af. But I suppose that many communities who misuse the word are also here and have been so deep in the Astarion ussy fanon that they forgot twink has an actually meaning, queer sub culture, and is insulting when applied to every slim-average build male queer.

First lets address the elephant in the room. All of you using the word twink in that manner are homophobic af. Even if you're queer yourself, taking a sub cultures term not owned by your self for your own lol's as toxic and homophobic. And the way its being used by you all is indicative of the word "f****t" and that you're ACTUALLY saying that word but in a way where you think you don't look sus af.

Secondly Caldarus is EXACTLY in line with the Shoujo style of the game. Even if you're not familiar with Shoujo content it is not the devs responsibility to make a Japanese based cultural genre to fit your western ideals. Caldarus is in line with Japanese, Chinese, and Korean period dramas. Men were and are still prized for having features the west consider "feminine". This is the basis Shoujo has used for a very long time called Bishounen (beautiful men). Being upset that you didn't know he would be Bishounen is failure on your own part for partaking in a new genre you know nothing about from a culture you are not from and then not bothering to educate your self on that content and culture. It is not the responsibility of another culture to mold themselves to your personal wants.

Saying that all the male characters are the same is also toxically sexist. March and Ryis may not be body-builder level but they ARE muscular. Even Balor, while slim looking in his clothes, is actually quite built when you see him in his swim wear. On top of that Hayden is both ACTUALLY beefed out AND has a tummy representing both larger med and those of us who are chubby. And then you have Eiland who is anything is the only soft-boy maybe-sort-of twink man in the series who is markedly slim. So a lack of body diversity in the men is most definitely NOT what the issue is. Its just that you didn't get the American booktoker-esque shadow daddy big scary strong man you wanted. Caldarus both represents androgyny we didn't have with his various feminine features and fulfills a genre standard everyone was waiting to get as life ling Shoujo lovers.

Lastly Caldarus' art outline has always been clear it would be someone with long hair and flowy clothing. The largeness of the silhouette from the smooth arced lines starting from the top of the head to the bottom made that clearly. He might have had a deep voice but he has always been mother hen-ish, kind, compassionate, and soft. He has never once showed this edgy-ness that some of you keep saying.

Rant done but mostly stop being homophobic af yall its disgusting. NOT IN MY COZY GAME YOU DONT.

[ivystoryweaver]

What a Mother Can Be

Pairing: Moon Dads! Steven Grant x mother!reader, Marc Spector x mother!reader. (Jake is mentioned). The story does not state that this reader has given birth to these children, nor the reader's gender, so anyone who could ever feel like a mother would be included here.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content: MOON DADS!! fluff, domestic fluff, kids, married life, it's Mother's Day, kissing, mentions of food and eating, there is a tinge of angst-ish, as Wendy Spector is mentioned, but this is not an angsty fic. This story is what I wish for the Moon Boys IF this is what they would want. They deserve to heal and they deserve a family if they want one - whatever that may look like. not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

He finds you in the kitchen early Sunday morning, standing over a hot griddle, pancakes sizzling.

Your babbling toddler wiggles in the high chair, pinching one Cheerio at a time in her chubby fingers and stuffing it into her mouth, making a kind of weird mush as she entertains herself.

You back is turned to him so you don’t realize he’s there until his arms wind around you from behind.

“You can’t cook today,” he breathes on your ear, stealthily removing the spatula from your hand.

You giggle and pretend to shrug him off. “Why not?”

“It’s Mother’s Day,” he declares, with an adoring kiss to your cheek.

“So? We have two boys about to come barreling in here,” you remind him matter-of- factly. “My present to myself is not listening to them demanding to know what’s for breakfast.”

A sliver of shame shoots through Steven's heart. He intended to wake up before you and take care of all this: breakfast and the kids. But Jake was out late last night and he accidentally overslept.

“Dada!” Lockley calls from her high chair, playfully slapping her hands down on the tray.

“Hey, sweet girl,” Steven greets his daughter, bending over to kiss her forehead. “Did you know it’s Mummy’s day?

“Ma-ma, Ma-ma, Ma-ma,” Lockley wiggles back and forth, chanting proudly.

As predicted, two energetic boys burst into the kitchen, their tousled curls an adorable mess.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” the twins shout in unison, holding up a handmade banner, constructed from about 60 post-it notes stuck together.

“Wowww,” you whistle in admiration. “Somebody’s been ransacking my office for supplies.” You wink, kneeling down to inspect their handiwork, and assuming they were unable to locate the construction paper to make this unique banner.

Then you take a closer look as Steven tends to the pancakes, finishing them up and removing them from the heat.

“Oh…” Your eyes mist over instantly when you realize the reasoning behind using such small paper to build a banner.

"There's messages on each one," Grant, the oldest twin by two minutes, shyly murmurs.

"Read 'em, read 'em, Mom!" Your energetic Jakob almost tears the feeble construct apart with his bouncing up and down.

Several of the notes boast simple messages such as, "Happy Mother's Day!" or "We love you!"

A few of them have small handprints - Mother's Day classics. There's even a tiny handprint, with LOCKLEY printed messily underneath.

"We had to write hers because she can't write," Jakob states the obvious. "But she tried to eat the Post-its."

"I'm sure she did," you chuckle, glancing over a few "coupons" where the boys have offered to load the dishwasher, fold laundry, give you a back rub and the like.

Then you notice a rather good drawing of your family under a banner reading, "The Spectors": You, holding baby Lockley. Grant and Jakob are flanking either side of you. And there are three dads pictured and labeled, Marc, Steven, Jake, underneath, "DAD" written in all caps. "MOM" is above your head.

"Grant, did you draw this, bud?" You ask your little artist, ruffling his curls.

"Yeah. It was hard to fit everyone on a Post-it, so I made it on two. So you have to keep them together...okay?" His dark eyebrows shoot up hopefully.

You nod, continuing to inspect each one.

Jake has written a few notes in Spanish and Steven left you a riddle...which led to a second riddle underneath the first one. And a third.

Jakob is giddy, dying to tell you what the riddle's answers are, but Grant silences him.

The bottom post it says, "Turn around."

Curious, you stand back up and turn to find Steven holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and a wrapped present in the other.

"One-two-three," you hear Grant coach. Then Jakob joins in. "Surprise!" Your husband and twin sons chorus.

"Happy Mother's Day, darling," Steven smiles at you, handing you your gifts. "These are from Marc and me."

"Thank you, I love them," you accept the flowers and kiss him sweetly on the lips.

"And Jake says he's going to get Frenchie to babysit next weekend so he can take you out in the city and 'show you off.' His words."

You snort, clearly amused. "Frenchie wants to babysit these three?"

"Yay!" Jakob cheers. "Uncle Frenchie! Uncle Frenchie!"

"Fen-he!" Lockley attempts, bouncing in her chair.

"See, everyone loves the idea," Steven grins, nodding for you to open the wrapped gift. "You can wear this."

A moment later, as he places your flowers in some fresh water, you unwrap your gift.

"It's beautiful," you gasp, touching the golden necklace, bearing hieroglyphs.

"It represents motherhood," Steven gushes. "Here, I made sure to get the paper that explains it all."

"Thank you." Wrapping your arms around his neck you hug him tightly. "Will you put it on me?"

Steven obliges, and you turn back to your boys. "What do you guys think?"

"It's pretty, Mom," Grant sweetly replies.

But Jakob has already dropped his half of the banner and is reaching for a pancake when Steven clears his throat pointedly.

The five of you gather around the table for an all too sugary breakfast before heading out to the park to get some fresh air, let the kids play and spend some quality time together.

Lockley can't walk quite yet, so she's rolling and scooting on a blanket on the grass while Grant and Jakob play close by.

Steven has already apologized for oversleeping, but you confess that you heard Jake come home extremely late. Lockley had a fussy night, so you turned off the baby monitor not ten minutes after he fell asleep and spent most of the early morning rocking your sweet, fussy girl.

"The perfect mom, as always," Steven compliments, with a sparkle in his eye. "And the day's not over yet. There's more to come."

You tangle your fingers with his, laying your head on his shoulder. After a brief silence, you ask, "How's Marc?"

You normally don't ask one alter to deliver messages for another. Half the time, they don't know anyway. But this is Marc. On Mother's Day.

"Quiet," Steven answers. "I think he's okay."

You hum a response, handing Lockley the pacifier she spit out.

"And you, my love? How are you today?"

Because Steven lost his mom too. And not simply because she passed away, but because the mother he thought was his was not real. Parts of her were real, to Steven anyway. The parts from childhood when she wasn't drunk, wasn't violent.

Those were Steven's memories to hold.

But he lost who he thought she was, as well.

"I'm better this year. Better every year," he nods, eyes focused on his twins playing together. "Get to spend this day with the best mum there is."

He gazes over at you adoringly.

"Thank you," you whisper, sealing your mouth to his.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Later that evening, after you and Steven have wrangled three kids into bed, you decide to take a quick shower.

When you emerge, Marc is waiting for you with a glass of wine.

"Happy Mother's Day," his dark eyes flicker down the curves of your body and he wets his lips.

"Marc," you breathe, taking the wine glass from his hand and setting it aside so you can throw your arms around him. "I didn't think I would see you today."

His strong forearms flex against your back, pulling you closer. "I'm here. Did you get the flowers?"

"Yeah they're on the dining room table. Thank you, they're beautiful."

"Good." Easing back, he kisses your mouth, before taking your hand and retrieving your wine glass. "Come on."

The sound of the record player drifts faintly down the hall, welcoming you into the den, where Marc has built a fire.

"I know it's May, but I turned the air down low," he explains, answering your quizzical look. "I know how much you love a fire."

You beam at him as he leads you to sit down on the plush rug in front of the fireplace. There's a tray with some adult-worthy snacks, like - the nice brand of cheese and fancy chocolates.

"No kids allowed," he winks, knowing you're always the one to give up the last pancake or slice of pizza for your children, or for him.

"Oooh, okay, this almost feels like an anniversary." You reach for a chocolate as the two of you get comfortable.

"Too much?" He questions, dark eyes focused intently on the way your lips wrap around the candy.

"Owh naw - its puwfect," you mumble, mouth stuffed full of a truffle.

Marc laughs, nodding mockingly, but playfully. "Sexy."

"I know," you humph, finishing your treat. "But today's my day. I don't have to be sexy."

"You couldn't help that if you tried," he smoothly counters, reaching up with his thumb to swipe chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

"You're really racking up the points here, babe, like, this is..." You glance all around you before taking a swig of your wine. "This is good. Really good."

"I thought you could use some kid-free time," he explains, "With your favorite things - without Jakob eating them all first."

You share a laugh, knowing it's true. Jakob is barely a middle child, but he certainly acts like one.

"If you want some alone time, just say the word," Marc adds, a bit reluctantly. "I just want you to be able to relax."

Setting down your wine glass, you pull him close by his t-shirt. "Don't you dare. You're mine."

You surge forward to meet his lips in a hungry kiss, the wine and the pampering treatment truly reminding you of more of a romantic anniversary setting than anything else.

Marc hums against your lips, cupping your face in his hand as you deepen the kiss, licking open the seam of his mouth to taste him. The wine and the chocolate and the essence of your husband soothes and thrills you equally as you melt into his arms.

"Thank you," you whisper, rubbing your nose against his as you part for air. "Thank you for making me a mother."

He touches his forehead to yours and earnestly returns, "Thank you for showing me what a mother can be."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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updates blog - @ivystoryupdates

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Ｔｅａｓｅ ♡

♡ Pairing: dom!boyfriend!bang chan x sub!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: angst/smut/fluff

♡ Summary: Lately your boyfriend's been spending a bit too much time with his friends and you're beginning to feel ignored so you decide that you'll get his attention by any means necessary. But are you really willing to go through with it and how will Chan react when he realizes exactly what you're up to?

♡ Word Count: 3.3k-ish

♡ Warnings: dom/sub dynamic, jealousy, pet names (baby, good girl, bad girl), kissing, manhandling, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, fingering, spanking, thigh slapping, dirty talk, Chan has a kink for you watching him, and that should be all my darlings.

♡ A/N: I received an anon request for some dom Channie vibes of this variety so here we are. As always, I really hope that I did a good job with this and yes my inbox is indeed open to requests or just stopping by to say hello. Anyway, let me hush up. Hope ya'll enjoy it, babes 💜

You aren’t a brat.

Okay, maybe you are just a little bit, but that doesn’t mean that your frustration with Chan isn’t justified. You get it. His friends are important to him. The time that he spends with them is sacred and you’d never want to do anything to get in the way of that. Chan’s always been good at keeping the balance, hanging with his friends without cutting into how much attention he gives you. But lately that balance has been severely lacking and you can’t help but feel neglected.

With everyone’s schedules opening up, the guys coming over once or twice a week has turned into a nightly event, hardly leaving space for the romance you’re accustomed to. You’ve tried to drop a few hints here and there that you’d like more alone time with him but it seems to fall on deaf ears. Exhausted with trying a gentler approach, you’ve cooked up another way to grab his attention. 

You aren’t a brat. 

Okay, maybe you are, more than a little bit, but that doesn’t mean that what you’re about to do to Chan isn’t justified. 

“Babe, could you bring me a glass of water?” Chan shouts over his shoulder, fingers tapping away at his laptop. 

He’d usually get up and get it for himself but he’s too in the zone for that tonight. This is how he gets when he’s working on a song. He spends hours in the bedroom, glued to his desk, frying his retinas with the computer screen. 

“Of course, Channie! One sec!” you shout back, your voice sweet enough to make him crack a faint smile. You’re always there for him, always so willing to help with even the smallest tasks. He wonders how he got a girl like you. A sweetheart to the core. 

The pitter patter of your feet trails down the hallway and you’re right over his shoulder, setting an ice cold glass of water down on the table for him. “Nice and cold for you” you smile, rustling his messy brown hair. 

Without looking, Chan rubs your arm, leaning his head against your soft belly, “Thank you, baby. Oh, before I forget, Bin and Han are coming over tonight. They should be here in, hmm, an hour. Could you just let them in when they get here?”

“That’s totally not a problem. I’ll let them right in” you say, gracing him with a kiss on the top of the head before heading back for the kitchen. Chan’s brain automatically shifts back to the task at hand, determined to apply the last few tweaks to the song before he plays it for the guys. 

Stopping yourself before you hit the doorway you turn on your heels, smiling from ear to ear, “Hey, baby, I was gonna order a pizza. Can I grab your card real quick?”

“Hmm?” he asks, processing your request on a delay, “Uh, of course, here.” 

Fishing his wallet from the pocket of his sweatpants, he turns to hand it to you and sees something that makes his heart stop. You’re naked. Not fully naked but in his eyes you might as well be. You’re standing in the doorway with the most innocent smile on your face and the skimpiest clothes he’s ever seen you in. 

You’re rocking a pair of skin tight shorts that ride your hips deliciously, nearly choking your plush thighs. They’re riding up high enough that there’s simply no way you have panties on underneath them and you definitely don’t.

The crop top you’ve got on barely constitutes a shirt. It’s more of a thin strip of material covering your bare tits, placing your perky nipples at serious risk of popping out. And you’re standing there like it’s nothing, your fluffy breasts nearly bouncing out of your crop top as you skip over to grab his wallet. 

His gaze dances over you with a seriousness that has the tiny hairs on the back of your neck standing up. “Did you plan on changing or…”

“Changing?” you laugh, filing through his wallet to find his credit card, “Why would I change? Bin and Han basically live here at this point. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

At last getting your hands on his card, you toss the wallet back into his lap and turn to leave but he grabs for you wrist. “You need to change…now” he commands, his jaw tightening. Why you’re acting so oblivious is beyond him but the clock is ticking on his friends’ arrival and he’s in no mood for games. Whatever your issue is you need to get over it quickly before his patience runs out. 

“Why should I?” you snap, snatching your arm free of his grasp. The next thing that comes out of your mouth is purely out of bitterness. It shouldn’t be said, you know it the moment you taste the words on the tip of your tongue, but by the time you realize your mistake it’s too late. “Just because you don’t want me anymore doesn’t mean someone else won’t.” 

The laptop slams shut, almost making you jump out of your skin. Chan rises to face you, the gentle brown of his eyes darkening as he backs you into the bed. “What did you say?”

“I said that…I said…nothing. I said nothing” you stutter, instantly feeling much less confident in your plan. 

“You said ‘Just because you don’t want me anymore’” he repeats, nearly choking on the words himself, “Why would you say that? Why would you ever think for a moment that I don’t want you?”

“Because you barely touch me anymore” you sigh, flopping down on the edge of the bed. You almost crumble at your own admission, hugging yourself for comfort. “Most days you’re too busy on your laptop or with your friends to even look at me and it makes me feel, I don’t know, like you don’t want me anymore.” 

Chan kneels down in front of you, taking your hands into his, and you can feel the tension in the room soften. Ignoring you was never his intention. The knowledge that you ever felt unwanted is like a bullet to the heart. He’d gotten so swept up in everything else that he took for granted the fact that you’re always there, right by his side. A mistake he regrets more than anything as he watches tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I do want you. I’ll always want you” he swears, staring into your eyes so that you feel every single word he says. “I love you. You know that, yeah?”

You nod, knowing that, even if he can be annoying, Chan would never bullshit you. That isn’t who he is. “Yeah, I know. I love you too.”

Chan drops down to his knees, palms clasped together in flawless begging formation, “So give me a chance to make this right, please?” He pokes out his bottom lip, making big brown puppy dog eyes, “Pretty please?”

It’s impossible not to giggle at how cute he is. Only a few minutes ago you were pissed enough to bite his head off, now all you want to do is kiss him. You hate how you can never stay mad at this man but deep down inside you never wanted to be. You only wanted him. 

“Ugh, fine” you huff, arms folded across your chest, “But don’t let it happen again, okay?”

Chan inches towards you, his poked out bottom lip ghosting yours, “It will never happen again. Cross my heart. Can I get a smile?”

“No” you refuse, turning your attention to the art on the walls or anything else in the room to distract you from the way that handsome face turns you into a pool of jelly. 

“No? You sure?” he asks, pressing his full rosy lips to your neck. That first point of contact gives you goosebumps and you quiver in spite of yourself. Chan kisses his way up your neck, his lips so feathery against your skin that it tickles, shaking that smile right out of you.

Chan wraps his arms around you, biceps flexing as he brings you in closer, “There she is. There’s my girl.”

“Not fair. You cheated” you giggle, wiggling in his grasp. Your attempt at getting away is half hearted at best. You’re right where you want to be. 

Chan sprinkles kisses all over your face. Your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, until you’re all wet with kisses and reduced to a giggling mess. 

“Oh, wait, I’ve gotta text the guys” he gasps, abruptly rushing back over to the desk and picking his phone up. For a fleeting moment you feel deflated. An entire conversation and his friends are still the first thing on his mind. But as he turns around your fears are immediately put to rest.

“I told them not to come,” he says, tucking his phone into one of the drawers. 

You perk up, giddy with joy, “Wait, are you serious?” 

Chan hovers over you, taking your squishy cheeks into the palms of his hands. “Of course I am, baby” he coos, beaming down at you, “I can see them whenever but tonight I wanna be with you. I was thinking maybe we could go out to dinner.”

“Dinner? Ooh, I have the perfect dress!” You’re ready to rush to the closet and throw together a quick outfit but Chan gently pushes you back down onto the bed, refusing to move an inch out of your way. 

There’s a fire in his gaze, like a starving animal who just spotted the most delectable prey. “Were you really gonna wear that in front of them tonight?”

You sit in silence, calculating the answer in your head before you slip up again and say the wrong thing. Technically you hadn’t thought the plan through that far. Would you have actually done it? 

“I just wanted to make you a little jealous.” 

“Make me jealous when you could’ve just talked to me? That’s not what good girls do, is it?” he scolds, his voice low and stern as he brushes the hair away from your face. Tension floods the room once more, putting you back on edge. He strokes your cheek, tracing it with his thumb, “I want you to lay back.”

“But I…” you stutter, fighting to explain yourself. 

Chan leans down, kissing you hungrily, his tongue darting into your mouth to perform a delicate dance with yours. “I said lay back, don’t make me ask again, okay?”

His aggression causes heat to pulse through you, pooling right between your thighs. Not daring to make him ask again, you lay back, propped up on your elbows as you slip all the way back on the bed. Chan watches you closely, on the verge of salivating at how your eager breasts bounce with every movement. “Spread your legs.” 

At last you have a definite answer to his question. Were you really gonna wear that tonight? Hell no. How could you wear something like this in front of Bin and Han when you’re dying of shyness in front of a man who's seen you naked a thousand times?

Heart racing, you do as you’re told, bending your knees and spreading your legs open for him. The cool air in the room blows against your core, confirming what you already know. You’re wet, dripping all over these brand new shorts. Chan kneels between your legs, fingers pressing into the fat of your thighs to spread you wider. He licks his lips, a subconscious reaction to seeing the imprint of your perfect pussy lips through the thin material that only gets wetter the more he stares.

Your face is too pretty and innocent for a girl intent on being this slutty. It’s a dynamic that has his cock stiffening behind those black sweatpants. You have no idea the restraint it takes not to drag you to the edge of the bed and fuck you. Everything inside of him is saying to devour you but he needs to play with his food a little bit more first. 

“I need you to give me a real answer, baby” he whispers, hooking two fingers beneath the material covering your soaked entrance. He drags his knuckles lightly along your slit and they glide smoothly through your arousal, teasing your twitching core. You throw your head back, pouting cutely as you squeeze your thighs together, desperate for more of that tingling sensation. 

Chan forces your legs back open, a palm coming down on your inner thigh, slapping it harshly. “Look at me.”

You wince at the pain, loving it at the same time, and pop your head up to regain eye contact. You can feel your nipples grow rigid, peeking out enough to glimpse as your crop top rides up. 

“You aren’t to ever take your eyes off of me. Understood?” Chan says, dragging his knuckles up to brush your tender clit. 

“I…I understand” you whine, nails raking the sheets, pleasure rippling through you. 

Spreading his fingers, Chan scissors them around your clit, smearing your slick through the warmth of your folds. “Now tell me, were you gonna walk around dressed like this all night?” he asks, rolling your clit between his fingers. The whimpers you let out only encourage him to put more pressure on your clit, the arousal visibly trickling from your core and onto the sheets. 

“You were gonna flash them this pretty little cunt, hmm? I thought it was all mine” he says, feigning disappointment. He drags his fingers back down to your entrance, slowly easing them into you until your body’s purring. 

“It’s yours. All yours” you moan, biting down on your lip. Your walls are so greedy, eating those fingers right up. It’s been weeks since you felt his touch and it’s nothing short of ecstasy to have his hands on you. Inside of you. You arch your back and your tits pop right out of your top, jiggling sensually as he works you with his fingers. 

Chan kisses the inside of your knee, bringing his thumb up to toy with your clit again, “Louder for me, baby. Tell me who you belong to.” He curls his fingers against your cushy walls, his fingertips tapping at your sweet spot. Your body just wants to collapse and let him toy with your needy pussy as much as he wants but you remember the rules. Your eyes are never to leave him. Ever. 

“I belong to you, Channie! I’m yours!” you cry out as he picks up the pace, the veins in his arm becoming all the more defined by the force he uses to drive his fingers into your core. Resting your foot on his thigh, you inch over to rub his bulge and he groans, his eyes ready to roll back in his head. He thanks the heavens that his sweatpants are black otherwise you’d have known how hard you had him ages ago. 

“What’s mine?” he asks, nearly falling off rhythm from how well you tease his cock. All of the blood rushes from his head to his cock, pushing the band of his sweatpants to its limit. 

You clench around his fingers, shifting your hips down further to grind against his hand, “This pussy is yours, Channie. I want you to take it.” Your voice is the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. It’s dripping with enough need that he can’t deny you.

Chan dives face first between your thighs, tearing the flimsy shorts right off of you, and taking a mouthful of your cunt. The slurping sounds are borderline insane. You’re sticky and sweet coating his tongue, nice and warm as you slip down his throat. You squirm beneath him, burying your fingers in his hair, crying out his name as he laps at your pussy.

You do your best, try your absolute hardest, not to look away from him but you can’t keep your eyes from clenching closed. It’s been so long, it feels so fucking good. You’re barely holding onto your sanity let alone maintaining control over your body. 

Chan tilts his head up, suckling at your clit, “I guess we don’t wanna listen tonight.” He pulls his mouth away, releasing your clit with a pop. 

“Noooo” you whine at the loss, forcing your teary eyes back open, “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t” he sympathizes, rising from the bed to shed his clothing. If there were ever a moment you took your eyes off of him it definitely wouldn’t be now. You didn’t think you could get wetter but seeing your boyfriend standing there naked—muscles on full display, swollen cock dripping arousal between your feet—proves you wrong.

Chan grabs you by the ankles, dragging you right to the edge of the bed, “You just need a little help, that’s all.”

Sandwiching himself between your legs, he aligns the tip with your entrance and grabs you by the chin, pushing your cheeks together so that your lips poke out a tiny bit. “So fucking pretty” he hisses, shuddering at how tight you are when he pops the tip in.

You let out a moan that borders on a whimper and he grins, thrusting into you hard enough that your whole body jiggles from the force. Your eyes squeeze shut and he slaps you on the ass, “Stay with me, baby. I want you to watch what happens to girls who try to make their boyfriends jealous.” 

He dips his hips down, switching to an angle even more lethal, and thrusts into you harder this time, bottoming out. Your lids shoot open, glossy eyes wide open as he drills into you. Every stroke of his cock between your gushing walls is like an art, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“You feel so fucking good” he hums, his free hand reaching between your legs to pet your cunt. “I’ll always want you. Always want this gorgeous face and…fuck…this pussy.” 

His grip on your face is so tight that your words come out jumbled, only breathy moans escaping your lips. He’s so deep inside of you that you’d swear you could feel it in your stomach, right there where all the tension’s building. Your mind’s spinning, core spasming around his cock. You’re fucked out already, your lids growing heavier and almost closing. Just almost. But you force them back open, taking his cock and following instructions like a…

“Good girl” he coos, rubbing your clit faster and faster. Your body jerks, your hands clasping around his arm, and he knows you’re close. “Cum for me. I wanna feel you gush around this cock.” 

Chan lets go of your face, grabbing your plush hips to keep you in place, hips snapping in rhythm with your broken moans. He leans in to plant sloppy open mouthed kisses between your breasts, capturing your mouth with his.

“Channie, I’m…I’m…” you gasp, losing your words as a wave of heat washes over you, leaving you creaming down his length, his thickness stretching your walls to the brink. 

Chan snakes his fingers into your hair, forcing you to stick to your word. He watches your eyes as they light up at the release, fighting to stay open then widening again when he spills into you, swelling you up with his cum.

He keeps you just like this, staring into your eyes until you can’t take it anymore and your head falls back in surrender. Rolling off of you, he cuddles up beside you, both of you high enough that you’re floating. 

“You’re my favorite person in the world” he says, kissing you sweetly. 

“You’re mine too." You crack a weak smile against his lips, “Soooo, did you still wanna grab something to eat?”

“I mean, I already ate” he grins, dipping a finger into your lingering wetness and licking it off, “But I could go for some more.”

[goosewriting]

Hello! I loved your "baby 🥺" fic and was wondering if we could get a version of it but with Donnie?

Another bebe?🥺 (rottmnt Donnie x reader)

summary: a turtle baby suddenly appears in the lab, and she looks suspiciously a lot like Donnie

relationship: Rise!Donnie x GN reader

warnings: none, just fluff!, soft Donnie

word count: 2k

A/N: the moment everyone's been waiting for lol this time Donnie gets better lab equipment xD

More “Baby 🥺” versions: Leo | Raph | Donnie (you’re here) | Mikey

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

Donnie was in his lab, because where else would he be? He was jamming to some EDM music in the background while tinkering with some project of his. You sat in front of him, starting to get bored. He had invited you over to show you his latest masterpiece, but it hadn’t worked yet, so now he was trying to fix the issue. Which according to him would be a quick fix, but he had been at it for over half an hour now, cursing under his breath.

“You better leave all the tools how you found them,” he said without looking up, as he could hear the light clattering.

“I know your system,” you reassured him. “You've explained it in great detail several times, don’t you worry.”

“Then, can you pass me the screwdriver, please?” he asked, stretching out his hand in your direction.

You reached out to pick it up from the box but it fell from your hand, rolling over the edge of his work table. You flinched slightly, ready for the clatter it would make as it fell onto the floor, since that screwdriver was modified by Donnie and particularly heavy. But the sound never came. Instead you heard more of an electrical zap and a whoosh.

Taking a couple of steps to get around the table, you saw that there was a hole on the floor where the screwdriver would have been. It was circular, formed by several zapping rays of a yellow-ish glow. You couldn't see through it, but it was clear that the tool fell in there. You merely blinked at the sight in front of you, unable to say anything.

Not getting a response from you, Donnie also moved from his spot, leaving his work on the table, and walked over, now standing in front of you on the other side of… whatever that was. 

“Huh,” is all that he said.

“What is that?” you asked after a moment. “And why are you not alarmed?”

Donnie scoffed. 

“It’s obvious it's some kind of portal,” he explained, turning around to his wall of machinery, tapping something on this brace device.

You raised your hands and eyebrows in a ‘well, sorry I didn’t immediately recognise it as such’ gesture, even though he had his back to you.

“I need to analyse it,” Donnie informed you as he turned around. “Better get a little further back just in case–”

Suddenly the screwdriver appeared again, coming out straight out of the portal, a tiny turtle hand attached to it.

You both stood in silence and shock, watching how a little turtle tot climbed out the portal carrying the heavy tool, finally getting to sit on the floor with a huff. The baby had a little ribbon tied to her head, which hung a little askew because of her efforts. She looked at you with a smile, then at Donnie, and squealed in glee, holding out the screwdriver with both hands towards him, as if offering it to him.

Then the portal zapped loudly, and shut closed. The little turtle seemed unfazed by this, still waiting for Donnie to react.

Donnie opened and closed his mouth several times but no words came out. You approached the baby and  crouched down next to her.

“H-hey there, little one,” you greeted her, and she cooed. “Where did you come from, hm?”

You took the screwdriver from the little hands, placing it on the table, and picked up the baby in your arms. 

“Huh, look at you, aren't you cute?”, you said as you inspected her chubby cheeks and big eyes. “What’s your name?”

The baby cooed and babbled as you moved the ribbon up her head to where you thought it was meant to sit. You fixed your grasp on the turtle to carry her better against your hip, in the process stroking over her back with your hand, and your brows raised at the sensation.

“Donnie look,” you pointed out to him. “She has a soft shell, just like you!”

You turned back to him and he was still in shock, unmoving. But you had been with him long enough to pick up on the tiny changes in his face to read them. Given the twitch of the corner of his mouth, you knew his mind was not only racing, but he already had a plausible hypothesis for this situation.

“Spit it out, Don,” you said with an amused sigh. “You already know what happened, right?”

“I think I do,” he answered. 

Donnie approached you and the baby, guiding you to a different part of the lab, where he instructed you to place her in a little open chamber, which you knew he used to analyse materials. You tilted your head at his request.

“Do you really need to know her molecular composition to tell she's a turtle like you?” you deadpanned. 

“I just want to know for sure if she’s who I think she is–”

“Whoa!” came a voice from behind you suddenly. “You two sure work fast!”

You both turned around to see Leo, Mikey and Raph at the entrance of the lab.

“We leave to get food and you already had a baby?” Leo joked. 

Heat spread on your face, burning on your cheeks. 

“We- Wha-??” you stumbled over your words. The baby in your arms squealed in glee, apparently very on board with Leo’s comment.

“That’s not how it works, Leo,” Mikey said, grabbing his brother by the shoulder. “Babies aren't made in labs, they–”

“Yeah, they grow in a cabbage,” Raph interjected. “Everyone knows that.”

You all went silent. 

“I’m obviously joking!” Raph called, Leo and Mikey erupting in laughter.

While you were busy trying to get your heated cheeks under control and everyone was making fun of Raph, Donnie had taken the little turtle from your arms and placed her into the chamber. He left the front panel open so she wouldn't feel trapped.

There was a loading bar on his screen, labelled „retrieving genetic material“. The bar progressed fairly quickly and after a couple of seconds the message appeared: „Analysis successful: Congrats, it‘s a girl!“ accompanied by the sound of a party blower, and followed by some caricatures of you and Donnie's faces surrounded by confetti.

At that, the laughter died down and all eyes fell on you. 

“Oh my god, called it!” Leo exclaimed.

“Shut up,” you told him, but the embarrassment in your voice didn’t make it sound particularly stern. “Donnie, clearly that's not possible, right?”

As you asked this, you turned around to see the turtle in question averting his eyes, a bit tensed up with his shoulders slightly raised, and hands curled into fists. Under his mask you could see a furious blush reaching to his neck.

“Eh?” is all you managed to mutter out.

“Clearly she came from a different timeline or dimension, but…” Donnie started, bringing up his hands to his face to try and hide from you. “Yeah, it's true.”

Letting out a shaky sigh, he picked up the little turtle, who had been following the whole exchange with great interest, looking from one person to the other. Donnie then moved to sit where he had been earlier, at the table, with the little turtle on his lap, looking lost in thoughts.

You shooed the other three out of the room, much to their dismay, to get a moment alone with Donnie. He was being a bit uncharacteristically quiet and … non-rambly, science-wise.

Grabbing your chair, you brought it to the other side of the table to sit next to him. Meanwhile, the baby turtle had discovered Donnie’s abandoned project on the table and her focus shifted completely to it. From his lap she could reach properly and started investigating the device. Donnie didn't seem to mind at all, which was sounding yet another alarm in your head. Instead of reprimanding the smaller turtle to leave his things alone, as you would have expected, he watched with soft eyes how she skillfully turned the device in her little hands, babbling to herself as if trying to make sense of his contraption.

“Is… everything okay?” you asked softly, placing your hand on his arm.

“I’m just…” Donnie took a moment to find the right word. “Stunned, I guess.” 

“How so?” 

“I’ve tried imagining this a couple of times,” he started, scratching the back of his neck, then clicked his tongue. “Scratch that, I think about this all the time.”

“About what?” you questioned, and your heart skipped a beat; does he mean what you think he means?

“You’re really gonna make me say it out loud,” he mumbled, lifting his eyes to meet yours, then heaved a deep sigh. “About us. What life will be like with you by my side.”

He then gestured to the little turtle still tinkering with the device.

“And about having kids, apparently.”

“Y-you think about our future together?” you said almost in disbelief, your chest tightening at his confession.

“Of course I do,” he responded immediately. “I can't really imagine a future without you in it. O-only if you want to stay, that is.”

“Obviously I want to!” you said and held his hand. You were leaning in, about to give him a kiss, when the turtle tot exclaimed in glee. And you could have sworn it sounded like she was trying to say “eureka”.

Before Donnie could stop her, she detached two cables, turned the thing around and connected them on the opposite side. You three looked at it expectantly to do something, but nothing was happening, so she gave it a smack with a grunt, and that's when the lights went on and it started whirring.

“No way! You fixed it?” Donnie exclaimed happily and held the baby under her armpits, lifting her up, to which she cooed and blew a raspberry.

With a smile, you leaned your head on your hand, propped up on your elbow on the table.

“Well, it’s no wonder she’s smart,” you spoke. “She’s got good genes, after all.”

Donnie’s gaze came to meet yours and he smiled as well, one of his rare soft ones, and your heart started racing all over again. 

Just as you were about to ask what you should do with her, there was some zapping behind you, the same zapping you had heard from the portal earlier. 

“Donnie is gonna kill meee,” came a familiar voice as a figure crossed through the portal into the lab, and you couldn’t believe your eyes: it was an older version of Mikey.

When he spotted the baby in Donnie’s arms, his shoulders slumped visibly in relief.

“You little rascal!” Mikey scolded her. “I look away for three seconds and you go off running!”

The baby stuck out her tongue at him, trying to hide behind Donnie’s arm.

“Heh, looks like brains aren't the only thing she inherited from you,” you tell Donnie with a mischievous grin.

“Whatever could you be implying,” he remarked sarcastically.

Mikey went to pick up the baby but she cried out, her arms doing a grabby motion towards you, and you could feel your heart tightening a bit at the sight.

“Hey now, it’s okay, little one,” you tried comforting her as you held her tiny hands. “We’ll see each other again, I’m sure.”

Donnie tensed up his jaw as the baby was taken from him, and you couldn’t help the sad smile on your face. Mikey shot you an apologetic look, and turned back towards the portal.

“This never happened, we were never here,” he said over his shoulder with a wink, and stepped through the whirls. 

The portal zapped closed again, and not a second later three heads peeked into the lab through the door.

“Is everything alright?” Raph asked.

“We heard voices just now, was someone here?” Leo questioned as he looked around. 

“Where's the baby?!” Mikey said, bringing his hands to his head.

“It’s okay,” you calmed them down. “She's back where she's supposed to be.”

Donnie’s hand came to hold your own under the table.

“We’ll see her again,” he promised, more to you than the others. “Hopefully soon.”

And then you knew the heat that prickled your cheeks probably wasn’t gonna leave any time soon.

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] ( i really hope i got everyone! ) @hearteyedracoon, @maribatshipper, @whygz, @lovelylovelydreams, @o0-starboy-0o, @xnorthstar3x, @yarabutterfly, @isometimeswritestuff, @spacelesbianfanclub, @lieutenantlashfaz, @dybynyght, @snipersiniora, @je-m-appelle-yam, @lunar-lover1, @normal-internet-user

[willows-escape]

Phantom HCs - Cherik with a Chubby!Reader

Pairing: 1990!Erik x GN!Reader

Warnings: fatphobia and nsfw content (has its own section)

Word Count: 2,370

Notes: This was a request that somebody sent me that I was really eager to write, as somebody who is plus sized/chubby myself. I might do it with the rest of the Phantoms I write for, but I don't know if that's something people would want to read?

Also, the series I spoke about in an earlier post - it’s still being worked on, but it shouldn’t hopefully be much longer. I’m looking to write around 11-ish parts, probably more, and I want to have three solid chapters written before I post the first one. Just so I can have the chapters to post while writing the next few. Having both female and male versions to write is also slowing it down, but I hope the wait will be worth it !

⟢ Erik does NOT care if you're chubby, skinny, average size or whatever. Your size isn't even a thing to him.

⟢ This Erik isn't as focused on stereotypical beauty as the others - he originally takes notice of Christine due to her voice, and the fact she looks like his mother is only an extra added bonus lol.

⟢ So I feel like your appearance is just not an important factor to him. It would be other things about you that would attract him first. Anyone could be stereotypically attractive, but not everyone could be you.

⟢ But don't be mistaken, he definitely thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world.

⟢ If you worked at the Opera Populaire, and he saw the way other workers teased you or gossiped behind your back, he'd be scratching his head in confusion.

⟢ He may be hopelessly infatuated, but he couldn't see anything about you that was laughable.

⟢ I'm not trying to imply this Phantom is ignorant or unaware of societal norms - unlike the others, he has a strong relationship with somebody who links him to the outside world. He hides due to his own flaws, after all.

⟢ He knows being slender and thin is the current ideal, but he also knows that ten years ago having a bigger body with soft curves was also largely desirable. So he didn't like to pay much attention to societies trends. They changed like the wind.

⟢ Which is why he'd sometimes forget that not everybody looked at you as if you were an angel that was sent from heaven to grace the earth.

⟢ If people's teasing and rude comments ever affected you so deeply that you brought it up to him, that would be the only time he ever acknowledged your body type. And his acknowledgement would only be vehement reassurance and exclamations of his affection towards you.

⟢ "But my cheeks are so fat, it makes my face look like a ball!"

⟢ "A very beautiful and loveable ball!"

⟢ He wasn't great at the whole reassurance thing.

⟢ After a while of courting you and as he began to realise how cruel some people could be to the most gorgeous person he knew - he began to feel a sense of solidarity with you.

⟢ He believed he was beyond hope and that he could never be accepted into the real world, and he wouldn't ever insult you by trying to say you were as repulsive as him. You were anything but that. Yet he felt as if you two were on some kind of wavelength.

⟢ You were both looked down upon for things as flimsy as physical appearances, and he felt a little closer to you due to that.

⟢ And he had a few existential crisis' where he laid awake at night thinking about how maybe society is the problem, not him, because how can they even ridicule you when you were perfection!

⟢ Then he'd take off his mask and look in the mirror and be like nope, he's definitely the problem.

⟢ Anyways. Less sadness and insecurity, and more fluff!

⟢ He loved how comfortable and soft you were. Erik had never held another person in his arms before you, never laid with his head on somebodies lap while they read him a book and mindlessly ran their fingers through his hair.

⟢ And he loved it.

⟢ His favourite time of day was when it came time to go to sleep, and he could lay with his head on your chest, arms wrapped around your waist and drift off into sweet sleep.

⟢ It took him a while to become so comfortable with this, though. It was weird enough that you two didn't have a chaperone during your meetings, never mind sharing affection. But if you asked him enough and tried to sneak in lingering touches and small caresses, he'd fold.

⟢ "Want to hold my hand yet?"

⟢ "Same answer as half hour ago, no."

⟢ "Am I truly so horrid that you do not wish to even hold my hand?"

⟢ "That is not what I said."

⟢ He didn't understand that couples followed these courtship rules in public, but were definitely smooching and snuggling in private. Even if you tried to explain that to him.

⟢ But eventually he caved.

⟢ He was touch starved beyond belief, so it didn't take him long to give in. Maybe a month or so. But it was also an awkward experience for him at first, so expect to give him a lot of guidance.

⟢ "This just doesn't feel right, why on earth would somebody lay like this when they are far more efficient and comfortable positions for somebody to lay?"

⟢ "That's because your arm's meant to be behind my neck, Erik, not over it."

⟢ "Ah. Yes, that feels better."

⟢ But once he got the hang of it, he was obsessed. Every part of you just fit so perfectly in his arms, you slotted together like puzzle pieces. It was glorious.

⟢ If you ever lived together, whether that be you go down below to stay with him or he manages to somehow bring himself to live with you amongst the real world (which would take many years and a ton of hard work), your evening conversations may look a bit like this:

⟢ "Excuse me, but when are you retiring to bed? Your scarf can wait until the morning." He was subtly glaring down at the knitting needles cradled in your hands as he spoke.

⟢ "Not long, just give me a few more minutes. I just want to complete this row of stitches."

⟢ "Alright, but when you come to bed, can you wear some of your summer nightwear?"

⟢ "But why? We're in the middle of winter, I'll freeze."

⟢ "I'll keep you warm." *leaves*

⟢ He definitely didn't just prefer the thinner fabric of your summer nightwear, which meant he could feel your body press against his and also allowed him to feel every curve of your figure with no barrier.

⟢ If you ever got married, expect him to just ask you to sleep naked. Not even for sexual reasons, he just loves the feeling of you.

⟢ You'd have a hard time refusing him in the colder months.

⟢ Also, imagine him singing you to sleep? His back resting against the headboard while you snuggled up against him, his hands delicately trailing over your skin and leaving goosebumps in their path as he sung to you.

⟢ That's an idea to elaborate on for another day.

⟢ Returning to the previous topic of his love of physical affection, kissing you would be magical.

⟢ And he'd be terrible at it.

⟢ The first time you kissed, you'd be the person to lean in first. And he'd look at you as if you'd grown two heads, but he wouldn't deny you. He'd go through many mood swings in the two seconds it took for your lips to touch.

⟢ "Erik," you'd eventually have to pull away, "Pucker your lips, and close your mouth a bit."

⟢ "My apologies."

⟢ That also has nothing to do with the head canon topic, I just wanted to include that.

⟢ Erik would love to draw you. Before he ever approached you, he'd spend his time making sketch after sketch of you, trying to immortalise every vision of you he had in his mind.

⟢ He'd get frustrated that he couldn't properly capture your true charm, but after a while of drawing for hours a day for a long period of time, he'd soon become an incredible artist. He wouldn't use this particular skill for much, unless you asked him to.

⟢ He also couldn't really draw anything that wasn't a person, considering his practice was very limited to one subject.

⟢ He'd have to send Gerard on trips to the store often to keep up with his new hobby.

⟢ "Erik, why do you suddenly need all this paper? The store clerk said he's had to order an earlier shipment of the stuff, because I'm buying up all his supply!"

⟢ "You wouldn't understand."

⟢ He'd also design and create the prettiest clothes for you, ones that would flaunt and uhm, extenuate, your best assets. So much material and thread would be stolen from the company in his pursuits.

⟢ He'd start doing this before you two even properly met, and when you began courting, you'd be taken aback by his display of clothing that he kept scattered around the catacombs.

⟢ Those dresses were probably not intended for him.

⟢ You'd grow especially suspicious when he began offering you these items of clothing, and how they all seemed to perfectly fit you like a glove.

⟢ "Erik, why are all these clothes my size? It's as if you took a measuring tape and made these clothes specifically to fit me."

⟢ "Just things the costume department had laying around."

⟢ "The costume department definitely does not keep clothing in my size."

⟢ "Well, they did when I got them."

⟢ Moving on lol

⟢ There are many reasons somebody may gain weight, but assuming you don't have a condition that causes it and simply appreciated food, Erik would be floored at all your weird and wonderful ways of preparing and eating your meals.

⟢ "What is in this bottle? It looks grainy, you aren't planning on putting this on your food, are you?"

⟢ "It's seasoning! Come on, try it! It makes the food taste a thousand times better!"

⟢ "Seasoning? Isn't that expensive?"

⟢ "Hey, you give me the money for the food, you don't tell me what category of food it needs to be spent on. I'm sure your salary is more than enough to cover the cost."

⟢ He'd grumble about how he was saving it for more important things, like wedding attire and a new instrument that he wanted to learn, but he wouldn't actually mind. His salary was definitely generous.

⟢ One time, he caught you sitting in the sun in the woods, and he was about to approach you when he saw the most baffling thing. You had a cloth splayed on the grass, covered in a weird brown substance that you were dipping strawberries in!

⟢ "What the hell is that?"

⟢ "Melted chocolate! *nom nom nom, gulp!* It's delicious with strawberries, would you like to try?"

⟢ "I'm quite alright, thanks."

⟢ Okay, your food choices were pretty normal, but for sheltered Erik who only ate things in their original state with no added flavour enhancers, he was shocked.

⟢ He might eventually expand his food palate, but it would take plenty of convincing on your behalf. He was perfectly happy with his unbuttered bread, thank you.

⟢ He was exceedingly stubborn.

⟢ But he's a fool for you, really <3

NSFW SECTION

⟢ You'd either have to be the most seductive person to walk the earth before Erik agrees to do anything sexual with you, or you'd have to be married.

⟢ Considering his intense attraction to you, it wouldn't be hard for him to consider you the first option.

⟢ For the purpose of this head canon, let's assume either one is true and he says yes.

⟢ The moment the first article of clothing comes off of you, he's starstruck. He can't believe he didn't say yes sooner.

⟢ He's torn between being regretful that he waited that long and feeling euphoric that he's really about to worship your body to his hearts content.

⟢ He's incredibly touchy feely. Consider every part of your body groped and kissed at least five times.

⟢ Favourite position is definitely you riding him. He'd have a few hang ups on it at first, as missionary back then was the only sex position that the church approved of, and he felt guilty about making you do so much work.

⟢ But he'd learnt his lesson about denying you by then.

⟢ You always had the greatest ideas, if those strawberries dipped in chocolate were anything to go by.

⟢ His eyes were greedy, watching the way you'd lower and lift yourself up and down his aching length. The way your skin stretched over your muscles as you chased your climax, eyebrows furrowed and shoulders hunched as you rested the palms of your hands on his chest.

⟢ He didn't know whether he wanted to keep his eyes locked onto you, or where your bodies were connected down below.

⟢ Just the thought made him so worked up and flustered he'd break a sweat.

⟢ His hands fit so perfectly in the dips of your waist, encouraging your movements as you rutted your hips against his. You looked like a painting, your plush thighs pressed tightly into his sides as you worked yourself into bliss.

⟢ He'd run his hands over every part of you, being extra cautious of being gentle. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you.

⟢ He definitely finished early the first like. 20 times you did that position. He felt terrible, but you considered it an amazing confidence boost. All apologies would die on his tongue the minute you'd lay down and ask him to finish the job by other means instead.

⟢ And speaking of thighs - his head being crushed by your thighs as he went down on you? God yes. He was used to the feeling of something constantly covering his face, and your legs were a welcome addition.

⟢ He's definitely messy and obviously inexperienced, so his rhythm would be uncomfortable and all over the place to begin with. But he'd figure out what drives you crazy in no time.

⟢ He's very, very eager to please. He'd worship every inch of you at every opportunity he could.

⟢ And have you seen this man's hands? Yum.

⟢ If you ever surprised him by wearing something skimpy or risqué? I hope you didn't have any plans for the next few hours. He's definitely taking his time with his gift.

THIS MAN UGH HE'S SO 😭💗

[flowercrowngods]

still on my journey to get better at smut, so uhhhh

chubby!steve fucking eddie at a highschool reunion

(explicit, ca. 1.1k | dom-ish top steve, belly kink, light degradation kink, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex, reunion sex??)

Eddie lets out a high-pitched moan as Steve lifts him off the ground, crowding him against the wall with all that glorious, glorious strength, manhandling Eddie like it’s nothing. If his dick weren’t already painfully hard and throbbing with need, it would be now, trapped as it is against Steve’s belly. It’s the hottest thing Eddie’s ever experienced.

“That what this is, baby?” Steve taunts, slowly grinding against Eddie, the bulge in those preppy-ass pants hot and hard against him.

Eddie moans again, shaking his head in denial even though they both know it’s useless, pointless. He’s been exposed. Quite literally, too.

“You think I’m sexy like this? I make you hard just from looking at me? Don’t think I didn’t see you there, Munson.”

God, the mouth on this man! Eddie never did stand a chance.

“You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid, letting me manhandle you like that. Think I can fuck yon against the wall, Eddie? Hold my dainty little princess up while I fuck all the words right out of your dirty little mouth, hmm?”

Eddie moans again, his hands finding their way into Steve’s hair, tugging and pushing and pulling him closer, closer, closer. He needs more. He needs Steve to do all of that and more. Come inside him, mark him up, let it trail out of him while they return to the gym — or leave him like that for everyone else to see, everyone else who happens to walk by this abandoned classroom in search for some privacy.

It’s been ten years. Ten years since Steve Harrington in all his glory graduated school and left Hawkins behind.

And oh, those years must have been glorious for him if he looks like this now. Bulky. Strong. Magnificent. Like he’s finally grown into that muscle he’s always had and polished it up with some softness.

Eddie was hard the moment he laid eyes on him.

And now here they are — in their old science classroom. If there were any coherent thought left in his mind, he’d make some quip about finally getting some biology lessons.

As it is, though, Steve surges up to claim his lips in a searing, filthy kiss while he divests Eddie of the rest of his clothing.

Eddie is naked now, trapped against the wall by that magnificent bulk of a man who is still fully dressed save for his suit pants being unbuttoned and that white dress shirt open all the way, exposing his hairy chest and tummy. The need to touch him is stronger now than the need to be fucked brainless, and Steve’s groan when Eddie runs his hands up and down those large pecs is absolutely worth the momentary lack of friction.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, unaware of the words leaving his mouth until they find their mark, making Steve falter in his frantic movements.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie swallows. “Always wondered what you’d look like now. Hoped for this.” He trails his hand down the prominent happy trail, all the way to where Steve’s cock is still trapped, leaking against his underwear.

They both moan as Eddie feels him up, gently jerking him as much as the angle allows, and Steve meets his movements with thrusts of his own, which in turn provides friction for Eddie’s throbbing erection.

God, this man is glorious. He wants to shout it from the rooftops.

“That so?” Steve murmurs, hands coming up to Eddie’s hair again, one of them trailing down to his lips. “King Steve was never enough for you, hmm? You wanted more. Always knew you were a greedy little slut, Eddie Munson. Practically begging for it with your little stunts. Wanted my eyes on you, didn’t you? We’re always so stupid for me.”

He moves his hips in a particularly mean thrust that makes Eddie keen, one finger moving past his lips for Eddie to suck while the one in his hair pulls meanly before coming down to his cock, jerking so hard and fast that Eddie’s legs quiver. Not that it matters, with the hold Steve has on him without even using his hands.

Eddie has nowhere to go; one finger in his mouth and a skilled hand on his dick. He doesn’t want to go anywhere. He wants to stay in this moment forever. Wants to tell Steve as much — stupidly — but all that comes out is a series of “Ah—ah—ah—ffffuck!” as the man renders him useless.

“All you had to do was ask,” Steve taunts, condescending in every possible way, and Eddie almost blows his load just then.

“P—Please,” he manages around Steve’s finger in his mouth, and the asshole speeds up. It’s all Eddie can do to shake his head, to whine between his moans and let him know that, No, not like that! “Want you. Need you.”

“You have me,” Steve whispers, his lips touching Eddie’s in an almost-kiss that is so intoxicating Eddie loses all sense of self for a second there.

“Fuck me,” Eddie whines. “Please. F—Fuck me against the wall, fuck the words right, right outta my mouth, fuck— like you said. Like that. Please.”

And oh, Steve does. Prepares him on four fingers until there are no words in Eddie’s brain anymore, clamps his hand over his mouth because “I don’t want anyone to find you just yet, baby. Want you all to myself. Want your cum on my belly and have you clean it up, eat it all like the filthy slut you are.”

He fucks him deeper than anyone’s ever fucked him, leaves him trembling with need even after he’s come twice, splattered Steve’s soft belly with it and almost came a third time just from that vision alone.

“One more, baby,” Steve tells him. “One more for me, then I’m gonna fill you up just like you want it, yeah? Fill you so good, mark you up so everyone knows you spread your legs for the King like my pretty little concubine. My pretty little princess, hmm? You gonna come again for me? Can you be a good boy for me?”

Eddie can. He comes with a muffled shout, adding a third load to Steve’s skin, framed by his otherwise pristine suit in what must be the most obscene vision Eddie’s ever seen.

Steve strokes him through it, gentler now, telling him how proud he is, how good Eddie was for him as he thrusts his hips one, two, three more times before he, too, finds his release in Eddie’s body. Well, in the condom; they’re not stupid. But a man can dream.

And, oh, does he dream. With Steve still inside him, his hips bucking with aftershocks as he buries his face in Eddie’s neck, licking and sucking and biting.

Eddie will always dream of Steve Harrington. Especially after tonight.

was gonna put this in @hotluncheddie’s ask box but then it hit 1k so here we go instead i guess

[barkbre]

Could I request MK11 (Younger) Johnny with a short, chubby, nerdy reader? Preferably smut please!

okay so litchrally me. me too. i will definitely be able to write this one hehehe

THIS WILL BE LONG AF BCUS I AM SO OBSESSED WITH THE JOHNNYS FR

warnings: tehe chubby chaser cage, SIZE DIFFERENCE ( for reference i am about 5'3 so this will be for my under 5'4 people! ), ... Johnny being a douche lowk bcus duh its johnny lmaoo, praise kink, spanking ( he looovee that fat ass ), probably forgetting something like usual!

fem!reader since not specified otherwise

Young!Cage has a track record of liking skinnier model like women- even women who can kick his ass, he never really looked towards the chubbier side of the ladies

till.. he saw you.. in your pretty glasses.. and your pudgy frame standing at a short stacked height as you yap away with one of Johnny's friends. he's immediately DUMBSTRUCK as he stares at you wide eyed behind his sunglasses- stanced in an awkward position as he stands there with his jaw practically on the floor as you suddenly turn to look at him back- your pretty eyes and confused expression he wiggles his head to get focused and walks over- noticing you nervously perk up at him coming over, his signature douchebag smirk playing on his mouth

"Hey pretty girl... i haven't seen you around here much? you a new friend of his?... or ah.."

You nod and smile- his heart fucking stops, he's so fucking obsessed with you it's almost unbelievable and he's usually not this easy to whip up. Fast forward you guys have raging crushes on eachother and its been a few weeks/month-ish, and you find yourselves to be together and alone at his place- everyone from the gathering having left already as you guys chit chat and clean things up together.

Your outfit was very different from normal...black tights, little boots, a damn short black fitten skirt that makes you hips so much more visible (he nearly came his pants when you walked in) and a cutie little black turtleneck with some jewelry. Someone else definitely made the outfit and convinced you to wear it and by gods whoever did.. he will have to thank them and owe them his life.

You guys chat more and he finally comments on your outfit and when you get flustered and admit your guy's mutual friend had dressed you up and practically forced you out the door- Johnny notices you growing closer in proximity as he joins in on it- eventually both now sitting on the couch, your legs almost swung over his as you guys subconsciously get closer the more you talk before you both collectively freeze and realize how close you two are

Now you find yourself grinding on his lap while his hands slip under your skirt to squeeze your fatty ass and hips- the need and want making the room spin and feel like a sauna.

Whimpers of his name get muffled by your sloppy heated kissing as Johnny lets himself loose- moaning into your mouth like a pathetic slut while he grinds up into you- both of you desperately caving into the sexual tension that had been brewing for weeks.

You whine as Johnny moves his hands from your ass- not knowing what he plans next you feel his big biceps slipped between your thighs as you pull back about to ask what he's doing until-

"J? what're you doi-" RIIIIIIIIP!

He rips the crotch of you fucking tights. like it was nothing.

Minutes later you find yourself humping his thick fingers and frantically whimpering into his neck as he dirty talks you through it and mocks you

"Aww.. jeez.. y'know it feels like your a needy pet purring while i pet you just how y'like it huh?"

"Poor girl... you needed this didn't you?"

"Yeah..yeah..there y'go keep fucking yourself on my fingers... yeaahhh juuuust like that.."

IM GOING FUCKING INSANE JFC