#detective cutie pants x reader

[satrs]

Ride of your life!

Requested by anon ↳ ❝ [...Chigiri and Kunigami? Threesome? But separate can work too! Just…just need something new for my kings ] ¡! ❞

✎ A/N; Hihi nonnie! decided to add some other guys to this, since I still got a ryu and oli brainrot <3. Hope u like it, enjoy!

SYNOPSIS; car rides with them.

TAGS; ADULT CONTENT(18+). MDNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Risky driving(do NOT do this shi y’all, drive safe) car s€x. Unprotected intercourse. oral (->fem). Established relationships. Semi public s€x (shidou). Oral( ->male). Mutual masturbation(Kunigami). Petnames(pretty, princess, cutie). Dirtytalk.

FEATURING; chigiri, kunigami, shidou, oliver x fem!reader

WK; 1.9k

CHIGIRI HYOMA

He'll never pass on an opportunity to ride shotgun. Especially when you're driving.

You never fail to make his boxers get tight when you reach over the stick shift, soft fingers teasingly brushing across his growing bulge. The red haired is always quick to brush your hand off in a hurry, scolding you to focus on the road.

If he was being honest, he would love nothing more than to just yank your head down to his cock and let your hot mouth work wonders on him. But he obviously can't do that right now. It's way to hazardous. You know that, right?

The car comes to an halt on the red light an he notices your bottom lip caught between your teeth, a malevolent grin tugging on your lips. Chigiri has barely any time to react, your hand already eager to loosen his belt. "F-fuck, stop it. You're driving-" He cuts himself of with a shaky breath once your fingers sneak down his pants and tug his raging boner out, thumb quick to brush across his leaking tip.

You giggle at his reaction, "Stop being such a killjoy and just relax." You look at him through your lashes, eyes swiftly glancing at the red light before you lower your head, one hand still prominent on the wheel. You suck his swollen tip while swiping your tongue along his sensitive slit, causing him to jolt in his seat.

He drops the protest, mouth hanging open as his eyes squeeze shut in bliss, pushing his head into the headrest with gritted teeth.

And he can feel your smirk against him, his lip swiping along his dried lips for moisture.

"Such a fuckin' tease", he breathes out, fingers tangling into your hair until he detects your gag, your throat contracting around his length. He chokes out a moan, hips bucking up into your mouth until his eyes shoot open, realization hitting him.

Hand still stroking the top of your head, he glances onto the road, noticing the yellow light threatening to turn green at any second. "S-shit!"

He yanks your head off of his length, your hazy eyes trying to adjust to the front. To his solace you're swift with your movements, quick to gain control of your senses as you push on the gas, setting the car in motion.

His heart still rapidly beating in shock and excitement, he lets out a sigh of relief, starring daggers into your side right after.

You drunkenly smirk at him, spit dripping down your chin. His dick jumps in delight at the sight. "Oh come on. Admit it, you like the thrill."

Your absent hand coming up to wipe the access saliva off your face, biting back a laugh as you continue driving, acting oblivious to the scene playing next to you.

He breathes out a laugh, hand moving up to get loose hair out of his face. "Alright, pretty. Why don’t you finish what you started, hmm?“

With that you flash him a cheeky grin, steering the wheel to the next best parking opportunity, halting it.

And as he adjusts his exposed hips on the seat, you lick your lips in delight, arching your back over the console to swallow his needy cock right back into your mouth.

„Atta girl.“ His posture relaxes with your bopping movements, hand finding comfort on the top of your head again, encouraging you to take him deeper.

„Justttt like that. Nice and deep.“

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

He picks you up, opens the passenger’s seat up for you, get back to the driver’s seat and rests his hand on you plush thighs the entire ride. It’s habitual at this point.

He might even lets his hand travel up a little, caressing your exposed stomach in a loving manner., not failing to flatter you with his never ending compliments.

You found yourself an endless charmer, ready to do anything and everything to see that smile he oh-so loved lighting up his life.

But even he can't help but let the filthy concept of lust cloud his mind. And one thing's for sure - he's not one to shy away from telling you.

"You look so gorgeous right now", his hand is resting on your thigh, goosebumps covering your skin once his thumb soothingly brushes over your groin, "wish I could have you right now", he breathes, auburn eyes burning the image of you further into his mind.

"Who's stopping you?" It's almost a quiet whisper that you return, thigh flexing as you await an reaction. And you receive a clear message once his hand spanks over the naked skin of your thigh, soft hand rubbing over the red imprint in apology.

"Be a good girl and get ready for me back there yeah?" Sharp chin motioning you to make headway.

Within a blink of an eye you're already behind him, spread open with your sopping panties on display. "Oh?", his eyes widen at the sight, hand struggling to get rid of his belt, frustrated at the tightness of his pants, "All ready and needy for me. Ain't that right, princess?"

You cage your lip between your teeth, eagerly nodding at him. Your hands travel down your thighs, slowly putting up a show for the man.

He groans once your hand reaches your drenched panties, outline of your needy heat visible. The orange haired was about to loose his mind, hips unconsciously bucking up into nothingness once he'd undone his belt- only obstacle being his boxers.

You giggle, visibly amused by his action. It doesn't take long for you to push your panties to the side, your eyes shooting up at his face once an almost animalistic growl rings your ears.

Dick already stiff on full display, his hand wraps around the aching length once your fingers play with your folds, teasing him. He lets out a curse under his breath once you push past your entrance, hole swallowing your fingers with ease.

With each twist of his hand he reaches further and further into bliss. The sight of your sobbing cunt on full display, fingers buried into the hilt made him a sound similar to a whimper, fighting the urge to not throw his head back in bliss, to scared he might miss something.

He paces his movements with the speed of your fingers, eyes wandering between your pussy and your face, trying to soak in every tiny motion of yours.

The hand around his dick tightens once he notices your walls tightening around your shaky fingers as you struggle to hit the spot inside of you he could reach in a whiff.

He swallows thickly, hips bucking up into his hand as he imagines his needy cock in replacement of your inexpert fingers. He's got to be inside of you right now, or he might actually die.

"Don't you wanna come back and fuck me, ren'?", you tease, wiggling your hips up to edge him on further. And he bites on.

A snicker leaves the mans lips, upper body turning in his seat to climb to the back in a swift motion. "Yeah? Want me to fuck you?"

Before you could return a sneaky remark, he's already hovering above you, broad chest blocking your view.

"Such a fuckin' tease. Gonna shape you just right for my cock."

SHIDOU RYUSEI

You're familiar with shidous various fixations. But there was one thing you were always rather dubious about - his obsession with fucking you in public.

Obviously, it was rather risky, some might even say mindless to perform such act out in the open - but not him. He didn't care about passerbys seeing the both of you in such a state, hell- he even wanted them to see. He longed for them to see him have you- claim you as his.

"C'monnnn, cutie", he breaks contact from your neck for a brief moment, hand still firmly kneading your behind. "It's damn near empty in here. No one'll see." His deserted hand moves swiftly to reveal his hard on raging against his boxers, rubbing up into your thigh to relief some tension.

You hesitate, hand reaching for the hood of the car to balance yourself. "M' not sure, ryu." Your eyes scan the dark parking lot around you and indeed- it was empty. Besides some parked cars in the distance. it was pitch black, the middle of the night, not a soul but you two around, the dim lights around you slightly illuminating your figures. "What if someone comes?"

He clicks his tongue, mouth still attached to your neck, as he propped one of your legs up the hood, granting him further access to your heat. "Ain't nobody comin' round here at this time", he hikes your dress up just above your belly button, quick to move your panties to the side. You bite your lip at the sudden hit of cold air.

"Besides", his hand places a quick slap to your pussy, "we can just pull that short ass dress of your back down in a whiff, baby. No need to worry."

Your hands fly up his shoulders, clawing into his jacked as you whine. "F-fine. But"- before you can comprehend his movements, his fat head already hangs heavy onto your clit, causing you to bite back a moan.

"Huh? You said sum'?", he teases as he eases himself inside of you, thick length stretching your walls as you clamp down on him, earning a hiss from the man as he begins a steady pace, pelvic brushing against your bud with each push of his hips.

"Suckin' me in so well. Want me that deep, huh?" His movements pick up, his hands gripping your cheeks apart to hold you in place. He shamelessly moans into your mouth, swallowing your sounds in the process.

A gluttonal groan rumbles from his chest, movement of his hips flattering as he neared his release.

You can only cry out at his relentless pace, mind turning numb. "Ya like that? Hell yeahhh you do. You- fuck! Loveee it right?" Your nod is speedy, eyes scrunched up together in lust. "Yes ryu! Love when you f- fuck me real good."

An amused hum leaves him at that, smirk on his face still prominent as he speeds up, curve of his dick hitting your spot just right, causing you to yelp out at the sudden pleasure. "Yesyesss! R-right, right there!"

He could cum right there, just at the sight of your fucked out state. His hand reaches up, placing his fingers around your throat to pull you up to his level, magenta eyes devouring you like a hunter would his prey.

"U' better be on the pill cuz' 'm bouta beat this slutty pussy up."

OLIVER AIKU

Well he didn't expect ... this.

Yeah sure, he told you to put on something nice, since he'd take you out for dinner, but this dress even threw him off his seat.

It hugged your figure perfectly, almost like a second skin, the seductive color adoring your smooth skin, captivating his heterochromatic eyes with each sway of your delicate hips.

"Would ya' look at that", he whistles, eyes roaming over your body, leaned back against the car hood, watching you approach him in swift motion.

You do a small spin, giggling in the process. "Like it?", you ask rather rhetorical, biting back a grin once his hands find comfort on your hips.

He just clicks his tongue in response, finger inching down your dress, coming dangerously close to the end of your dress, fingertips brushing over your thigh.

The dinner can wait, he's got to have desert now.

With a soft pat to your rear, he leans off of the car, shiny canines exposed from his wide grin. "Move that pretty ass to the back. Gonna eat ya reallll good."

You feel your lower belly pulsate at his raspy voice, leaning up to place a quick kiss to his cheek, before disappearing to the backseats.

Oliver followed suit, impatiently shutting the door behind him. You face him, excitement glinting behind your eyes as his hands snatch your heels, your dress riding up in the process.

His eyes flicker between your curious face and the lace covering your pussy that matched the color of your dress.

"Oli', we'll be late." He hushed you with a quick kiss to your hidden cunt, his thumb teasing your clit through your panties. "We got all the time of the word. Jus' relax and let me eat, would ya? M' starvin'."

And with that, he pushed your panties to the side, burying his face right into your heat. His tongue licks a long stripe along your vulva, earning an eager moan from you.

"O-oh." He continues his antics while his hands hold your hips in place, grunting into you once your hands tangle into his dark locks, pushing him further into your cunt. "s-so good , Oli'", you murmur, head throwing back as his tongue pushes past your entrance, slurping up your juices.

He makes out with your cunt, tongue spelling his name to your clit as his fingers replace his mouth on your entrance.

Your eyes roll to the back of your skull and you can feel his shit-eating grin against you.

He's so cocky, trying to hide the fact that his boxers are screwed tight against his hard cock, trying to ease the strain by bucking his hips into the seats. "Yeah? Feels good? 'f course it does.", he mumbles between your legs, fingers curling up inside of you.

You suck your stomach in, the pleasure roaming every inch of your body as you feel yourself nearing your release. "mmmhh- fuck! T-think I - I'm gonna cum- shit! R-right there, oli'!"

He speeds up his movements, sucking your click into his mouth while swirling his tongue around it, his fingers relentlessly massaging that gushy spot inside of you.

And once he feels your walls tightening around his digits, he retreats them, mouth covering your hole to catch your fluid inside of his mouth.

"Yeah, c'mon, pretty. Cum." His words are barely audible, but you still comply, back arching off the seats as you squirt inside his mouth, thighs clamping around his head to ride out your orgasm.

He swallows all of it, bruising tight grip still prominent on your hips. "That'ssss it."

The man doesn't stop, his hunger still not fulfilled as he continues to swirl his tongue through your folds, your heel digging into his back, legs shacking from the overstimulating pleasure.

"Ya can take one more. One more, then we'll go, I promise."

You sob, hands crawling into the leather beneath you, and you know, you'll probably skip dinner tonight.

©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎. all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[letsgetrowdy43]

Rutger and childhood friend to lovers

He’s the cutest ❧

Rutger McGroarty x bsf!reader

I don’t know if you wanted it written as an actual blurb, but I was in an insta edit mood so sorry about that!!

Rutgermcgroarty just posted!!

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Rutgermcgroarty it’s my fav girls birthday 🎉

Tagged: @Ynofficial

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User73 the baby pictures 😫

Ynofficial god I was some cute 🤭

Rutgermcgroarty you’re so full of yourself

Ynofficial you made a dedicated post abt me and expect me not to talk abt myself….

Lhughes_06 happy birthday @Ynofficial !!

Ynofficial thank you Lukey <3

User83 the grinch sweater is such a vibe ‼️

User02 hbd!!!

Jacob_truscott20 even as babies you freaks were in love 🤢

Ynofficial just posted!!

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Ynofficial it’s an aesthetic girl summer <3

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Ynbestfriend you ate this right tf up!!

Ynoffical am I… am I the moment?!

User28 the dress!!

User83 it really is an aesthetic girl summer <3

Lucafantilli when life gives you lemons 🍋🥶

Ynofficial this comment was so unnecessary.

User48 no thirsty rut comment… fake friend ✋🏻

Ynofficial he gets a pass today he’s on a flight rn!!

Ynofficial just posted!!

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Ynofficial the resident pain in my ass is in canada 😔 #comehomethekidsmissyou

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Rutgermcgroarty I’m so glad to know I mean this much to you 🫶🏻

Ynofficial wrong!! I’m just bored and you provide me with limitless entertainment 😁

Rutgermcgroarty so what I’m hearing is that you need me to survive 😏

Ynofficial can’t you just shut up and be grateful if my appreciation post for you?? Bitch.

User19 are they dating??

Jdrusk53 that’s the question of the year

User73 rutger always looks like he’s soft serving!?

Ynofficial just posted!!

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Ynofficial sorry I’ve been M.I.A. I’m in love

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Nick.granowicz 🤔

Ynofficial Heyy Nicky!!

User73 The socks are so cute :)

Markestapa I’m devastated 😤

Edwards.73 how are you gonna end up married to rut?? If you’re dating someone else??

Ynofficial I’m sorry??

Mackie.samo you should be 😒

Ynroommate YOURE IN LOVE AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME

Ynofficial I’m sorry 😁

User38 I’m abt to turn into a detective 🕵️‍♀️

User10 this is adorable

Rutgermcgroarty GASP 🙊

Rutgermcgroarty just posted!!

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Rutgermcgroarty another day, an other night of annoying the fuck outta Y/n

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Ynofficial the Minecraft heads were a serve 😎

Rutgermcgroarty TRUTH

Franknazar14 I will never understand you two…

User19 this is the content we needed!

User29 ✈️✈️

Nolan_moyle are you two holding hands in that last picture 😧

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Rutgermcgroarty my gf is hotter than yours #stayjealous

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Edwards.73 @ynofficial put some pants on for the love of god

Ynofficial you’re just jealous that I’m hotter than you 😛

Edwards.73 TAKE THAT BACK

User38 aweee

Ynofficial love you babe ❤️

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Adamfantilli it’s not even a suprise…

Rutgermcgroarty just let me gloat please

User37 FINALLY

Tyler__duke5 where are her pants??

Rutgermcgroarty on my bedroom floor 😼

G.brindley4 yucky

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Ynofficial he’s okay I guess…

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Rutgermcgroarty just okay??

Ynofficial I was lying, you’re a lot more that okay 😘

Adamfantilli the contrast in these captions really warm my heart 🙂

Ynofficial anything to make my Mo happy 🫶🏻🫶🏻

User29 literally the cutest couple

Ynbestfriend Ew Rut.

Rutgermcgroarty jealousy is a bad look on you.

Seamuscasey26 hes such a cutie with that little ice cream

Rutgermcgroarty 🍦

Ynofficial he’s the cutest :)

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[txmel]

Omg. @sherlollydramoine with the Rami fluffy dad writings. @rami-malek-trash with the smutty Tuesday. @xmxisxforxmaybe with "The Press Tour" and "cop-porn". It has been AMAZING.

I just don't know how to feel except grateful. Thank you ladies for making my week! 😁

[iznsfw]

Idea.

A cold night in the park. Minju: “oppa im cold”.

You: stupidly hug your baby to warm her

Minju: looks at you angrily! Daddy I need your hot baby batter to warm me up inside

You: 😉

The Night Settles In

IZ*ONE's Kim Minju x Male Reader Smut

Inspiration: this ask and @kaedewrites' post: “@.iznsfw Minju sex in the park when?”

Today, Kaede. Here's an unedited quickie just for you and anon here ;) Now I'm off. I'm too tired.

Snow paints every tree along your path a cloudy white. A cool wind blows through the park from time to time, so if lucky you can sometimes catch a twinkling snowflake by plucking it out of thin air. If you aren't lucky, you are met with an empty glove and disappointment.

But you won't let snowflakes define your luck. With the girl who owns your heart strolling with you in a night lit by street lamps planted on the sides of the road and the stars in the sky, you are a walking four-leaf clover; you are the luckiest man in the world.

You love these aimless strolls in the park with your girlfriend, Minju. But today, the wintry weather makes you love these little dates even more. The snowflakes that fall from the sky somehow provide a comforting solace within you, even though they are freezing cold when they land on your face or your stuck-out tongue. And with Minju's hand around yours, no amount of cold could get to you.

That isn't the case for her though. While your eyes rake across the sight of withering snowmans and snow-caked park benches, your ears could detect a whine from her.

"Oppa."

You return your focus onto her. There she is beside you, huddled in your white padded winter jacket with her hands making sleeve paws in it.

So adorable.

"Yeah?" you ask her.

She makes a whimpery sound and shivers. "I'm cold."

You chuckle; Minju is such a cutie. She never fails to draw a smile out of you, and how couldn't she when she's there flashing you the most adorable pout ever and shivering like a puppy after a bath?

"I thought foxes liked snow," you remark cockily, hinting at the animal Minju resembles the most. But you open your arms and allow your girlfriend to make herself comfortable between them.

You put a pause your little stroll date to warm Minju. You hug her as tight as you can in, her head in between your shoulder and your arm, and give her a few kisses on the cheek despite your cold chapped lips. Mwah, mwah, mwah.

"Better?" you inquire.

"No," she says, shaking her head. "I need something else."

"I didn't bring any hot packs, Joo. I'm sorry, I'll bring some next time."

"Not that! I need something else."

"What is it?"

"It's something only you can give, daddy."

You immediately understand what she's hinting at when you hear the honorific.

Look down at Minju and you can see the naughty grin on her face. Despite knowing what she means, hesitation still holds you back.

"Here? Right now?" you ask uncertainly.

You look around the park. Nobody is around right now because of the night that is settling in. It's just you, Minju and the pinecone trees, but still!

"Of course!" Minju answers. "Wouldn't you do everything just to keep Mingming warm? Minju wants your hot cum inside her, pretty please, daddy?"

Her sparkling eyes absolutely rob you of any common sense left in you. Who could resist giving this girl the world when she's this cute?

The fluffy date night quickly twists into something else. Realizing how hot Minju looks even with the jacket covering most of her body, you tug off Minju's shorts till they dangle off one of her legs and lift her up. Your lips and hers connect and eagerly search for a taste of each other; eyes closed, Minju lets you nibble on her lower lip while your tongue curls around hers. The moan she lets out brings your cock to half-erectness needed to deliver out your girlfriend's plea.

You pin Minju to the nearest streetlight. Now your hands are free to grip her buff thighs instead, pulling them apart while Minju's hands return similar assistance by unzipping your pants. Soft moans and satisfied sighs continue to fill the cold air.

"Come on, daddy, give Minju what she wants." Minju is certainly demanding, but she helps you meet her needs by wrapping a gloved hand around your dick and jacking it off. You groan at the feeling of the fabric caressing your cock veins. "Fill Minju with your hot cum. Fuck!"

No more wasting time, no more extensive foreplay. You thrust into Minju's tight cunt, hissing at the way her walls immediately clamp down onto you. If she's this tight this early on, you can easily give her what she wants: your load inside her.

You begin with slow yet sharp thrusts. Minju whimpers, biting her lower lip while her long legs curl around you like snakes. You would be glad to be poisoned by this snake though, you joke to yourself. But the chuckle that would have gotten out of you is replaced by a groan upon hearing Minju's girlish moans.

Her tight pussy is coating every inch of your cock with her infamous Kim Minjuice. You make sure to lather it completely with her by slamming your shaft harsher until you are balls deep inside her. Minju's thighs squeezing around you also help you with the task at hand—wait, maybe "at dick" fits this statement better.

"Fuck, baby," Minju yelps, squeezing her eyes shut as you drag your dick out of her till only the tip remains inside and slam it all back in. "Faster! Faster, oh fuck, you're stretching me so well."

And you are: Minju's walls practically part to welcome you in. Her vagina hugs your shaft so tightly that each thrust rubs all her sensitive spots, all the right places.

Your ego swelling with pride, you trail your hand to her wide hips so your thumb could rub circles over her sensitive nub. The moment you do that, she lets out a high-pitched gasp, more juices spilling from her cunt and dripping down her thighs.

Minju's hips rise and spasm so her clit could nestle even more into your thumb. She desperately tries to get you to stimulate it, but you teasingly refuse to. What adds more to her frustration is the sudden slow thrusts.

"What the fuck! You're so annoying," she protests whinily. Her hips begin to move by their own to try and get herself off, but it just isn't enough. "Come on, keep going!"

She's so cute when she's angry. You pretend to be ignorant of her pleads and instead chastise her with a: "Careful, Minju. You're being too loud."

"And you're being too slow! What if I—oh fuck."

She curses when you resume the rough thrusts without warning. That definitely shut her up, you notice; her eyes are closed again but her mouth is wide open.

You close her mouth by closing the little distance between you with a kiss. Her walls contract and squeeze you tighter than ever, but you manage to keep the thrusts steady and consistent. After all, without a proper pace, you wouldn't be able to give Minju what she wants.

You do not want Minju to get cold, so if this were any other situation, you would have zipped up her jacket. However, seeing each thrust cause a delicious bounce from her handful-sized boobs makes you thrust in her faster.

You squeeze at one of them, leaning in to suck at her nipple. It's erect from the cold, so your tongue swirling around it feels even colder to Minju. She yelps a little, but her hands pulling you closer from the back of your head easily tells you that she enjoys it.

"Mmph, ahh, oh fuck, I'm close."

"Already?" you tease, giving her breast one final kiss.

"Oh, shut up! It's your fault anyway!" Minju answers. "And besides, you're—wait, no, please don't stop. I'm almost there."

"Fuck, so am I."

"Cum inside me, daddy. Cum inside your little cumsleeve. She wants it—she wants it so fucking… bad!"

Minju's whimpery gasp comes out in the air as a smoky wisp when your thrust become quicker, aimless.

She buries her face in the crook of your neck heavily, biting down on it.

"So close, so close, so close, soclose!" Minju's words come out in high-pitched whines when she cums with you. She clenches down on you so tightly that she finally gets what she wants:

Buried deep inside her, your tip spews ropes and ropes of cum into her. Some stick out and onto her thighs, but you do your best to fuck them all into her.

"Ah! That's better!" Minju gives you a satisfied kiss. "Thank you, daddy!"

[seijorhi]

Reminiscent

i’m (semi) back, y’all, and i come bearing a fic!! fhdjhfjdk it’s for oikawa i won’t apologise

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

TW non-con, drunk/drugged reader, forced infidelity, emotional manipulation, angst, past trauma, coercion, mild(ish?) smut, nsfw

“F-fuck, cutie! Just like – hah– just like that!”

You weren’t the clubbing type.

Not usually, at least – but exams were over and one of your friends was fresh off a bad breakup, one night letting loose wouldn’t hurt.

Walking is… difficult, your steps are sloppy – there’s an arm wrapped around your waist, your own slung over a stranger’s shoulders. Why are you outside? Where are your friends – they… they promised they wouldn’t leave you. 

“She good, dude?”

A soft, pretty laugh rumbles at your side, “Yeah, she’s gonna be just fine.”

And you remember the bar, the overpriced cocktails and the saccharine sweetness of strawberry liquor on your tongue. The dizzying lights and the bass that thumped so loudly you felt it reverberate in your chest. You knew the rules; they’d been drilled into you since you were sixteen years old.

Stick together, don’t accept drinks from strangers, and watch the one in your hand like a hawk - it doesn’t leave your sight.

A tongue between the valley of your breasts, long fingers curling up inside of you. 

“You like that, huh pretty girl? You gonna cum for me?”

They wouldn’t have just abandoned you, right? Maybe you told them to go. Maybe they thought you wanted it; to go home with the handsome stranger.

You never had the guts to ask them, never spoke about that night again. Not to anyone.

Pain. Something thrusting inside of you, splitting you open while he moans and pants atop you. It hurts so much and you want it to stop. 

Please stop. Please. Please. Please.

You’re begging, at least you think you are, but the words come out jumbled and wrong, and he just laughs, hiking up your thigh so he can fuck you deeper.

Why won’t he stop?

When you wake up, bruised and sore and all alone in your bed, it feels like a bad dream. You know it’s not – not with cum still seeping from between your thighs, the scent of the stranger’s cologne clinging to your sheets.

And you scrub your skin raw in the shower, but it isn’t enough to rid you of his touch.

—

It’s nothing like what they show on tv.

There’s no sympathetic detective to pat you on your shoulder while you break down, swearing that they’ll find the man who did this and you’ll get your justice.

You don’t go to the cops because you’ll know what they’ll say. You were drunk, drugged, and even if you could remember what he looked like (his eyes were brown, you think, and there’s a flash of a smirk in your head but the moment you try to focus on it it slips away like smoke) any evidence of rape washed down the drain the moment you stepped into the steaming shower.

At least… that’s what you tell yourself. It’s easier than admitting you’re terrified of judgemental eyes. 

Or worse; pitying ones.

So you pretend that nothing happened. You show up to your classes and throw yourself into studying, make the time to get coffee with your friends, you even pick up a part time job – it’s good to keep busy. 

The nightmares are just that; nightmares.

And things are fine, until they’re not.

—

“Baby, you’re here!!”

There’s barely time to drop your bags before she’s pulling you into a warm hug. “Hi mom,” you reply, squeezing her back.

When she draws back to take you in, one hand cupping your cheek, she frowns, “You look tired sweetheart. Have you been sleeping enough?”

“Yeah, just tired from exams and stuff.”

She looks unconvinced, but mercifully doesn’t push the issue. Of course, you don’t tell her that you missed your last two exams because you’d walked past some guy wearing that same cologne and just choked – that instead of finishing off your semester strong, you’d spent the day alternating between throwing up and crying in bed.

She doesn’t need to know that, because of that, you’ll probably fail both classes and have to retake them again next semester on top of an already full course load. It’s fine; you’ll figure it out.

For now, you work on matching her enthusiasm at having you home, grabbing your bags to bring them inside and into your old room.

“Oh, wait–”

Abruptly, you pause, gazing in confusion from the doorway of your bedroom. There’s a duffle bag lying open and empty atop your bed, a tangled jump rope, some weights, an empty bottle, a sweat towel – even what looks like a spare workout tee scattered haphazardly across the sheets.

“… I didn’t take you for a gym junkie, mom.”

She stops behind you, sighing. “It’s not mine it’s– Tooru said he was going to tidy it up, sorry sweetheart.” She sweeps past you to start tidying it up, but not before you catch sight of her wide eyed, deer in headlights expression.

And you can’t help the lone eyebrow that rises, falling back against the doorframe, arms folding across your chest. “Tooru, huh?” you grin, “And who might Tooru be?”

The flustered, almost guilty look she sends you makes you want to laugh – this is easy, comfortable, this you can do – but you restrain yourself. Just. “Tooru is… he’s– well, he’s the man I’m… seeing.”

She admits it like she’s confessing to a crime, eyes all wide and nervous; anticipating your reaction. And you suppose it’s not unwarranted. As far as you’re aware, she’s been alone ever since the day your dad walked out on you both – raising you was always the priority, or maybe the excuse. But you’re not fourteen anymore, you don’t need another father figure or every spare bit of her time and attention, and she doesn’t need your approval for this.

So you smile at her, “Is he nice?”

She lights up, her features – almost a mirror image of your own – softening as she beams, “He’s amazing, honey. I honestly don’t know how this whole thing really happened, or why he’s even interested in someone like me but… I lucked out with him.”

And so it goes, you prying little bits of information about the mysterious Tooru as the afternoon passes.

She tells you that they met a few months back, at the bakery she likes in town – and how she kept running into him; at the grocery store, and then at the park, and then on her way back from yoga that one night.

She tells you that he’s a terrible flirt, all smooth and charming with warm, pretty brown eyes, but he’s a good man beneath it all and she’s never met anyone like him. 

It strikes you, as you watch your mom animatedly talk about him, that you’ve never seen her look like this before. 

Happy. 

She can’t stop smiling, and when you look at her, really look, she’s almost a different person – younger somehow, a bit more care-free. It suits her, and you wonder with a slight pang in your heart how you never noticed how lonely she was before.

And she’s adamant that they’re taking things slowly, that he still has an apartment of his own in town – which to be honest, you really aren’t gonna judge her on either way – but it is kind of funny simply because whether your mom realises it or not, it’s clearly a lie.

The subtle reclaiming of your bedroom aside, there’s traces of Tooru scattered all around the house; the extra toothbrush and aftershave you’d spotted in the bathroom, the men’s  shoes and the jacket by the door, red wine in the cupboard when your mom’s only ever indulged in white.

You haven’t been into her bedroom, but at this point you’d hazard a guess that there’s at least one drawer full of Tooru’s clothes, probably half her closet cleared out for him as well.

“He’s coming for dinner, but I just wanted today to be just us,” she says, reaching across the couch to squeeze your hand. And you’re grateful for it, because you’re happy for her – you are – but you’re not so sure how you would’ve handled meeting the stranger holding your mother’s heart first thing. At least, not after the last few days.

Not when you still feel all… brittle. 

—

Tooru arrives a little after seven, and to say that he’s not entirely what you were expecting is kind of an understatement. 

She’d gushed about how tall and handsome he is – though personally, you think pretty’s the more accurate word, what with his soft, delicate features, perfect cupid’s bow lips and all. What she’d neglected to tell you was that the man in question, stepping through the front door with a faint smile on his face, has to be at least ten years younger than her, mid-thirties at most.

Suddenly, your mom’s initial reluctance to bring him up starts to make sense.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he murmurs, stopping by your mom to drop a fleeting kiss to her cheek before warm brown eyes turn to you. 

Your heart stutters.

“Sweetheart,” your mom begins, slipping an arm around his waist and relaxing into his side, “this is Tooru– Oikawa,” she corrects herself.

He smiles at you, friendly and charming, “It’s great to finally meet you, your mom’s told me so much – all good things, of course!”

You force yourself to smile in return, “Yeah, you too.” 

There’s nothing overtly wrong with Oikawa, age difference aside – your mom’s clearly head over heels in love with the guy and on a surface level he seems nice enough, but you find yourself glad for the fact that he doesn’t make a move to step closer, try to shake your hand or god forbid hug you or something like that.

He’s nothing but a gentleman as your mom steps back into the kitchen to finish off dinner, setting the table without being prompted, pouring a glass of wine for your mom and one for himself before he offers a glass to you. 

“Oh, no I’m alright, thanks.”

You don’t drink so much anymore. He shrugs, like it’s no big deal but your mom pouts at you from the kitchen. “C’mon, sweetie. We’re celebrating tonight! One drink won’t hurt.”

“We’re celebrating?” you ask.

She throws you a wink, gaze softening as she turns to glance at Oikawa, already diligently pouring you a glass, “Of course we are. It’s not every day my girl comes home, and it’s nice having you both here with me.”

Oikawa’s fingers brush against yours for a fleeting second as he passes you the glass, and you have to fight to keep yourself from ripping your hand away. It’s nothing, you just– you’re not good with strangers touching you, and as nice as he is and as much as your mom might be infatuated with him, he is still a stranger.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, a playful twinkle in his eye as he clinks his wine glass against yours. “So you’re at uni, right? What are you studying?”

Uni’s the last thing you want to be thinking about right now, but whether or not Oikawa genuinely cares, he’s obviously trying to make an effort to get to know you. For your mother’s sake, grinning innocuously in the kitchen as she adds the last little touches to dinner, you suck it up, plaster a smile across your face and ignore the twinge of discomfort in your gut.

You can handle one night of small talk.

—

You wake the following morning to the sound of voices carrying down the hall.  

Not your mother’s – both are too deep, and your mom left a few hours ago for work. Figuring that one of them at least is likely Oikawa, you pull on a thin, satin robe over your pajamas, tying the sash in a loose knot before you slip from the room.

Those suspicions are proven correct; you round the corner to find Oikawa sitting up at the kitchen counter, a warm cup of coffee in his hand. There’s another man, a touch shorter, but imposing with dark, spiky hair and olive green eyes standing on the other side, hands braced on the marble top, glaring at Oikawa.

They both look up at the sound of your hesitant approach, the stranger abruptly straightening up, while Oikawa merely grins.

“Ah, you’re up,” he observes cheerfully, taking a sip of his coffee.

Your eyes flicker between him and the stranger – clearly comfortable enough in your home and with Oikawa, despite the faint, lingering irritation still visible on his face – and as your cheeks warm, you find yourself wishing you’d put actual clothes on before coming out to investigate.

“I- I heard voices…” you trail off, awkwardly folding your arms over your chest. “Is mom–”

“At work,” he supplies. “Do you want some breakfast? Coffee, maybe?”

You risk another glance at the other man, watching you now with an unreadable expression, dark eyebrows furrowed. You swallow uncomfortably, shifting slightly as you shake your head. “No, I-I’m okay.”

And in an instant, a flash, something like recognition passes through those olive eyes. 

 Oikawa chuckles smoothly, finally tearing his eyes away from you to address his friend, “Iwa, stop being so rude. You’re scaring the poor thing.”

The stranger, Iwa, just scoffs. “You’re a real piece of shit, y’know?”

If he’s bothered by the scathing insult, Oikawa doesn’t show it, merely shrugging before turning his attention back to you with a smirk. “Ignore him, he’s just pissy this morning.”

You’d have to be a complete idiot not to sense the uncomfortable tension between the two of them – and now you. This is your home, but it feels like you’re intruding, like you’ve stumbled into a conversation you have no business hearing, but even if you wanted to leave your feet are rooted to the ground. 

“Besides,” Oikawa continues, “he was just leaving anyway, weren’t you, Iwa?” It’s almost a purr, the way he speaks, but even the silken words can’t entirely mask the razor sharpness that lies beneath. 

Goosebumps prickle along your arms.

Staring at you, Iwa opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but seemingly thinks better of it, snapping it shut with an audible click. He huffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

He spares you another glance on his way out, standing frozen by the hall. For a split second he slows, his scowl softening just a fraction–

“Iwa.”

It sounds like a warning, but he only rolls his eyes and huffs again. You think he’s going to walk out without another word to either of you, but he pauses once more, lingering by the entryway.

“You look a lot like your mother, anyone ever tell you that?”

He’s out the door before you can even think to reply, letting it slam shut in his wake. And you flinch at the harsh sound, something uneasy settling into the pit of your stomach–

“Hey,” Oikawa’s there by your side, his fingers entwining with yours. You hadn’t even heard him move. “Come sit, don’t worry about Iwa. He’ll get over it.”

His voice is soothing, you don’t pay attention to the words themselves, the implications there. You forget for a moment that you’re still in your pj’s, that you really don’t know him that well either, and mindlessly follow when he leads you to the couch and sits you down, taking the seat next to you.

And while your head’s still spinning, an uncomfortable feeling gnawing in the pit of your gut, Oikawa seems entirely unbothered by the turn of events, sighing contentedly as he stretches his long legs out, one arm sliding along the back of the couch behind you.

“Do your… friends usually just drop by like that?”

You don’t know where the words come from, or why that’s the first question on your mind, but when you glance over at him, Oikawa’s just watching you, an odd little half smirk playing on his lips. “Sometimes.”

His answer does little to soothe your unease. It’s really not a big deal, you know it’s not. Officially or not, this is his home too – you’re the one out of place. And if he wants to have people over when your mom’s not around, that’s fine, he can do whatever the hell he wants, but… 

You came home for peace. To hide away for a few days and pretend that everything’s just fine and you’re not one breakdown away from shattering entirely. You wanted your mom and the comfort of your old bedroom and safety and it’s fine – great, even – that she’s found somebody who makes her happy, but this– him and the weirdness with his friend and everything is just too much, and–

You don’t realise that your leg’s bouncing until Oikawa’s hand comes to rest on your bare thigh. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, an icy chill trickling down your spine as his thumb slowly strokes across the soft, plush skin. “Relax, cutie,” he coos, chuckling softly when you visibly flinch and squeeze your eyes shut.

“P-please don’t call me that,” you choke out, fighting against the wave of nausea rising up your throat. And it’s just like last time, his cologne, notes of vanilla and cedar and spice, swirling thick and heady around you. That phantom touch, the warmth of hands gripping too tight, unwanted kisses hot and eager against your skin. 

“No?” he asks, cruel amusement dripping from his tone. “Why not? I think it suits you, cutie.”

You want him to stop, to push him away, slap him – do anything really, but you’re frozen in place, shaking as the memories you’ve fought so hard to shove down come bubbling back to the surface. You can’t think straight, not with his hand sliding between your thighs, the warmth of his body pressing too closely against yours.

“Iwa was right, you know,” Oikawa murmurs, smoldering brown eyes drinking you in as you childishly shake your head, willing him away. His other hand catches your cheek, drawing your face back to him as tears well in your eyes, stubbornly clinging to your lashes. “She does look so much like you, the same eyes even.” 

He whispers it like a secret, nuzzling his nose against yours like a lover would as he sighs sweetly, “It’s the only reason I could stand it.”

And then he’s kissing you, the tenderness of his lips belied by iron fingers digging into your jaw when you whimper and try to wrench yourself free. 

It’s not like the nightmares that startle you awake in the middle of the night, gasping for air; hazy, broken recollections that fade the moment you try to reach for them. No, every touch, every moment of his assault passes in stark clarity.

The feel of Oikawa’s mouth as it trails greedily down your neck, his hand sliding under the cotton of your sleep shorts, even his pleased little hum when he realises you’re not wearing panties. “Such a good girl for me. Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

This time there’s no drugs in your system keeping you pliant and helpless, but that doesn’t make a difference. Not when his words echo in your head, playing again and again until every awful, sickening piece falls into place.

Long, nimble fingers stroke at your folds, and you can’t help the shivery gasp that leaves you when the tip of his middle finger sweeps over your clit. 

“Please– please don’t do this,” you sniffle.

Oikawa presses another fleeting kiss to your shoulder, “Shh, none of that. Let me help you, baby.”

“N-no, I don’t, I don’t– Stop!”

Knocking away the hands that try to push him back, he hooks his fingers over the hem of your shorts and slides them down your legs, your pitifully weak struggles only making things easier for him. It’s only when Oikawa reaches for his own zipper that panic truly strikes home.

You can’t just lie here and let this happen again. You won’t.

And like a switch flipped, you start to trash like a wild thing beneath him, the scream you’ve kept buried inside of you for months ripping itself free from your throat–

Only for the fingers that had been toying with your pussy to be shoved down your throat, cutting you off with a choked gurgle. As you gag, fruitlessly try to tug yourself free, Oikawa leans in nice and close – except this time there’s no gentleness to his expression, nothing but viciousness as he grins and bares his teeth. 

“You wanna yell, pretty girl? Want the neighbours to come running, let them see me fuck you?” He grinds his hips against you, his breath shivery as he pants at the friction of his half hard cock against your side. Nausea twists at your gut, acrid and bitter – you want to be sick, to cry and beg with him to stop but with his fingers still stuffed in your mouth, his thumb digging into the soft underside of your jaw all you can manage is an unintelligible whine. He hums, kissing away the single hot tear that spills down your cheek, “You think if you cry loudly enough, mommy’ll come home and save you?”

And it’s like time stands still as he laughs, cruel eyes glinting when he presses down on your tongue, warm saliva pooling around his digits. “Such a little whore, trying to seduce her poor, innocent boyfriend the very moment her back’s turned. Tell me, cutie,” he coos, “who do you think she’d believe?”

Your breath hitches, another sob catching in your throat – even if you wanted to answer, you can’t and he knows it. “She’s in love with me, you know. It’s almost a little pathetic how easy it was to manipulate her into bed – so lonely… desperate for love, for somebody – anybody – to pay attention to her, take care of her,” he sneers, distaste curling at his lips. “Wouldn’t it just break her fragile little heart to know she’s fallen for the man who raped her baby girl?”

Another garbled cry slips past his fingers and you can only watch in frozen horror as his other hand drifts back to his zipper. “You want to protect her, don’t you?”

His grip relents just enough for you to jerk a shaky nod.

“Pretty girl, so good for me.” Another kiss pressed to your cheek as the quiet hiss of his zipper fills the air around you. “It’ll be our little secret, hmm? She doesn’t need to know just yet, let her be happy a little while longer…”

Sliding down his briefs just far enough for his cock to spring free, he strokes it for a moment with slow, leisurely movements, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he watches your eyes widen. 

And when he pulls you forward, guides your mouth towards it, pre-cum beading at the tip, withdrawing his fingers so you can quickly gasp for air, you just… let him.

The fight’s gone, as quickly as it had come. 

You let his fingers curl through your hair, use it as an anchor when your lips part to force his cock between them. And he moans, low and shivery as your tongue slides along the underside of his shaft and you try not to gag around the sudden intrusion. 

You think that there’s no room left inside of you for shame, but as his other hand creeps back between your legs, teasing at your cunt, you burn with it, clinging to the pyre of your own humiliation and disgust.

And still, you kneel on the couch, letting him fuck your mouth, letting those long, pretty fingers curl up inside of you – moaning around his cock when they stroke that perfect little spot.

“I wanted to – shit – take this slow,” he tells you as his hips jerk upwards, shuddering in breathless delight when his cock hits the back of your throat and it convulses around him. “I wanted to make you want me.”

Wet, messy, gags sound with every unwitting thrust – you’ve no choice but to swallow him down, let him fuck your throat like you’re nothing more than a toy for his pleasure. There’s saliva coating your chin, dripping down the length of his dick, pooling around his balls. You can barely breathe, a task made even harder when Oikawa decides to add his thumb into the mix, teasing your clit while he fucks you apart on his fingers.

It feels so fucking good, and you’ve never hated yourself more.

Your throat burns, hot tears stinging in the corners of your eyes, and yet he’s intent on driving you to the brink of your sanity with every calculated flick of his wrist. Something tightens in your belly, a spring coiled too tight, ready to snap, and you can’t help it when your hips chase his fingers, the needy, shameful little whimpers that leave your lips (still wrapped around his thick, twitching cock) as you search for the pleasure to temper the discomfort.

“You don’t have a clue what you do to me, do you? I could barely sleep last night–” 

You choke back a moan, your pussy clenching around his digits, sucking them deeper as white spots pepper your vision and you shudder out a moan.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he pants, but you don’t care – can’t, not when you’re riding his fingers, tongue lolling out as he gives you a moment’s reprieve to bask in the rippling afterglow of your orgasm before everything comes crashing back down around you. 

Oikawa lets you fall back against the cushions, breathless, trembling and dazed. You’re not stupid enough to believe that’s the end of it, not when his cock’s still hard, throbbing against his toned stomach when he gives it a slow, cursory pump.

“Lie back, cutie,” he whispers, keeping his eyes fixed on you as he pushes himself up off the couch to shed the rest of his clothes.

And as you shuffle obediently downwards, heart hammering in your chest, you find you can’t tear your eyes away from him either.

Tall and handsome, she’d said, but the words truly don’t do him justice. A body corded with lean, powerful muscle, golden, sun-kissed skin, a light smattering of dark hair trailing from his navel down past the well defined V of his hips… 

“See something you like?” he teases, smirking when you squeak and childishly jerk your face away, cheeks burning. “It’s okay to look, you know. I don’t mind the attention.”

It feels too soft, too intimate for what this is. 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He’s not supposed to be attractive, or to make you enjoy your own assault, and you– you’re supposed to fight it, fight him instead of just lying there and taking it… 

But when he climbs back onto the couch, easing your still trembling thighs apart to settle himself between them, his touch is nothing short of reverent, dark eyes wide and adoring as you squirm uneasily beneath him. 

With one hand braced on the cushion beside you, his cock resting just above your aching sex, he leans forward, easing your top up past your tits. “Perfect,” he murmurs.

And it’s enough to make a fresh bout of humiliated tears spring to your eyes. Your hands curl into useless fists at your side as he settles back onto his knees and takes his cock in hand, hissing in pleasure when he glides the flushed, leaking head along your slick folds.

“Fuck, cutie. I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he laughs, biting down on his bottom lip as he watches hot, fat tears slip down your cheeks. With an agonisingly slow pace, Oikawa lines himself up with your cunt and presses in – even with how wet you are, one orgasm already wrung from you, the stretch burns and you can’t stop the choked gasp that leaves you.

His eyes flutter shut, head thrown back back as inch by inch his cock sinks into your pussy until finally he bottoms out with a satisfied groan. “Perfect for me, so fucking good,” he pants, and you barely have time to drag in a breath before his hips are drawing back, another desperate, strangled mewl escaping you.

Bruising fingers dig into your waist, Oikawa cursing as your plush little cunt flutters maddeningly around him– before he eagerly slams his cock forward, stuffing you full once more.

And as you sob and whimper between every wet, obscene squelch of his dick fucking into your soaked pussy, that all too familiar, shameful heat begins to pool in your core.

“Gonna cum for me again, cutie?”

[formenis]

Likeness

Anon asked: "I really love your one shots 💖 and was wondering if you could make a one shot for Matsuda? 😅" 

*slams hands on the table* OF COURSE!

(and thank you, Anon-san~♥)

pairing: Touta Matsuda x gn!reader

warning: fluff floof maybe

requested: yes

D/N: dog name

A/N: as I always say, English is not my first language so you’ll find some mistakes in my stories. I’m sorry! ><

«The total amount is 6600¥» (A/N: something like US$ 60 or 50€ with the current exchange rate)

«Alright»

Y/N searched for their wallet and payed their groceries. That evening they wanted to prepare a magnificent dinner so Y/N needed many things to buy.

They left the konbini (A/N: a small retail business that stocks a range of everyday items, they're also called "convenience store") with two large shopping bags. They were not much heavy but Y/N could already sense a slight pain on their hands.

It stopped raining few minutes ago, everything was wet and shining: cars, buildings and even the road. There was not much people around them due to the weather but the streets were congested, filled with vehicles. A freezing air hit Y/N's face and once outside the konbini they took a deep breath before leading back home.

During the walk, Y/N thought at the menu for the dinner: rice, soup and three side dishes for sure. Yes, but which side dishes? Tempura, grilled fish, hamburger steaks or something like salads and boiled veggies? Luckily Y/N brought everything in case they were unsure once at home.

Cooking was a sort of "ceremony" for Y/N. Why? First, because they liked it (A/N: sorry if you don't); and secondly, because that was how they met their s/o Touta Matsuda. But he was a detective, how could they meet? Simple (and rather cliché, Y/N admitted it): they bumped into each other in one of the aisles inside a konbini. The two of them were doing their grocery shopping when both of them aimed at the same bag of seaweed.

«A-Ah! I'm terribly sorry!» he immediately apologised.

«Omusubi I guess?» (A/N: it's another name for onigiri, a food made from white rice formed into triangular or cylindrical shapes and often wrapped in seaweed).

«Yeah…I always bring them at work»

A normal conversation with a stranger would end there, they would come back at their normal life and maybe forgetting about each other the next day. But not with someone as Matsuda: he was so outgoing, chatty and…somehow cute. Y/N got along with him immediately: the initial simple acquaintance changed into friendship; and friendship turned into love. And cooking helped a lot: they would exchange recipes and tricks every time they would meet.

«Gee, I took too many Mentsuyu bottles» (A/N: it's a noodle soup base)

But back to the present. During their way back home, Y/N felt a set of steps behind her. At first they thought it was some weirdo who was following her but when they turned they didn’t see anybody. So they kept walking; after five minutes the steps became four.

When Y/N turned again, they were ready to use the shopping bags to beat whoever was following them but they saw something else instead: a puppy. Very thick, pure white double coat, two large black eyes and cute tiny ears (and no collar). Y/N opened the mouth in disbelief.  

«Oh my-a white cloud fell from the sky! Come here, cutie» Y/N kneeled down and the puppy walked closer right away. It must be hungry, it was a bit skinny…poor floof.

«Do you wanna come with me? I'm a rather talented chef, you know» Y/N asked the dog with a hint of presumption. The puppy wagged its tail in response, it must love that idea. «Then, jump in» Y/N opened one of the largest pockets of their jacket and the white floof stepped closer to it: it sniffed the cloth and once it verified there were no dangers, it jumped inside. Once it found a comfortable position, its head popped out from the pocket.

«You're so cute, just like Matsu~» Y/N took the shopping bags again and walked back home. The few people on the streets looked with cute awe at that pocket.

.

.

♰ TIME SKIP ♰

At home, the same apartment they shared with Matsuda, Y/N was cooking peacefully when a sudden thought appeared in their mind: «What if Matsu is allergic to dog fur?»

They never asked him since none of them never talked about pets. Y/N's gazed moved from the tempura to the floof: the puppy was drinking from the bowl still wigging its tail. They smiled, everything about that dog reminded them of Matsuda.

Y/N was so focused on the floof that they almost didn’t hear the front door open. «I'm home!»

In a rush, Y/N took the dog and hid it behind the armchair and put the bowl in the sink. Then they pretended to cook again. «I-In the kitchen!»

Few moments later Matsuda appeared in front of them: tired face, messy black hair and loosened dark tie. When he smelled the air his lips curved in a smile.

«Welcome back, Matsu. How was work?»

«I'm so tiiiired» he sighed walking closer to his Y/N and kissed their cheek. «Is that tempura?»

«Good nose, dear» Y/N chuckled and let him taste a piece.

Matsuda yummed in bliss and tried to steal another piece but Y/N hit him softly with the chopsticks. «You have to wait»

Touta complained but didn’t say anything else. Instead, his gaze moved to the sink. «Why did you use the bowl?»

Y/N froze. Damn, they forgot to hid it. «Uhm…I was trying a new recipe but I failed…eheh» they laughed nervously.

Matsuda could be naïve sometimes but he was a detective after all. «And you used the bowl…and nothing else? Nor a pot or a ladle?» he asked with suspect.

«As I said, new recipe» Y/N kept cooking the tempura playing it cool. However, this didn’t convince Matsuda and continued analysing the "crime scene".

He was walking closer to the armchair, Y/N was sweating cold. He almost reached the point where the floof was hiding but then, as to save the situation, someone knocked at the door. «Coming!» Matsuda yelled and ran towards the front door.

Y/N ran towards the armchair and took the little floof. It started wigging its tail when it saw them, its ears were all up. Y/N went towards the bedroom and put it down half-hidden under the bed.

«Stay here cutie, I'll come back soon» and with that, they ran back in the kitchen. In that exact moment, Matsuda appeared again.

«Who was it, dear?»

«Uhm…it was Ogawa-san. She gave us some cookies she did today»

«Really? So gentle of her» was Y/N's reply. They were mentally hoping the floof would not do noises.

.

.

.

After dinner, as usual, Matsuda was relaxing on the couch watching TV with Y/N beside him. They were watching a documentary about rainforests around the world when Matsuda started giggling quietly.

«Pff Y-Y/N…please stop»

«Uh?» they looked at him in confusion. Soon enough that giggling became a proper laugh.

«You know I'm ticklish, please~»

«I'm not doing anything-» Y/N stopped talking when, despite the slight darkness, they could recognise the floof's white fur: it was playing with the hem of Matsuda's pants and the fur was tickling his feet.

Y/N started panicking was going to grab the dog but Matsuda was faster. «A dog?» he said in disbelief. «Y/N? Why there's…a dog here?»

«Uhm…ah…well…I-» Y/N wanted to explain but no words (or good excuses) came out from their throat.

A loud sigh marked their defeat. «It was following me when I went at the konbini…I couldn’t leave it there! Just…look at it, Matsu!» they took gently the puppy in their hands so it was looking directly at the detective: tiny ears up, soft white fur and large dark eyes. The dog tilted the head in confusion and so did Matsuda.

«See? You two are so similar, so cute! Can we please keep it?»

The initial confusion of the young detective soon turned into a gentle smile: in that moment Y/N was doing the cutest "puppy eyes" he ever saw. So he was not the only one who looked like that dog. It was the main reason that made him smile.

«Did you choose a name yet?»

«Hmm…what about D/N?»

«It sounds perfect»

«This means we can keep it?!» Y/N asked happily and D/N wigged swiftly its tail as if it was even happier. A series of cute barks could be heard as Matsuda said yes.

[bangtan-sinnamons]

Exotic |Side Drabble|

⤞ Paring: Snake!Jungkook x Human!reader

⤞ Drabble for my Exotic series! Best read after Part 2 (link here) Part 1 (link here)

⤞ Genre: Fluff, Romance

⤞Warning: unedited

⤞ Word count:  370

Thanks to these cuties for the encouragement: @j-sunshines @patpus @shilove26 @mysarden @britneymc0206 @hecticwonderer @lidda

“Hurry up and get undress, look at all this blood,” you pointed, a frown forming on your face when he walks even slower.

He could feel the heat rise into his face and he paused in his tracks. He had to undress and rinse off in front of you?! Although reluctant and shy, he takes off his shirt. Revealing toned abs as well as scars and bruises.

You never really noticed how good looking the man before you was, until now. Your heart thumbed so hard you swear he could detect it, and of course he did. He was a hybrid. Instead of your face reddening it was your ears that were burning bright. A smile formed on his face, he never seen you so nervous. You weren’t even nervous when you first met him! “Hurry it up!” You said, turning your face away from him as you plopped down on a nearby rock.

Jungkook didn’t really understand the situation, and begins to unzip his pants.

“Jungkook! Hold on let me leave. I didn’t realize you got injured down there as well! I just wanted to make sure you were gonna wash the wounds properly,”

He laughed, “You were so bold declaring me to undress and now you are all shy. How cute.” He hasn’t complimented someone in so long, that it felt foreign to his lips. “I won’t take it off, so can you help me wash my back,”

Despite the stings he felt when you touched his new wounds, all he could think about was your soft hands on his rough back. He even wagged his tail.

“Would you stop moving your tail!” You nudged him “I can’t wash you properly if you plan on smacking my hand away every other second!”

“What tail?” He questions, looking behind. “When did that happen?! I never have been able to do that before.”

You raised a brow when the hybrid begins to look like a puppy trying to catch his tail, “From the fight I guess? Well since you keep moving, I’m leaving,”

“No….” he whines, a big smile plastered on his face as he runs after you. He was definitely smitten with you and he doesn’t mind at all.

Part 2 (link here) Part 1 (link here)

[nimuesimagines]

Jake peralta x reader imagine? The reader is also a detective from the 99th precinct and Jake and them recently got together after a long and slow burn of them both liking each other but never admitting it. The team doesn’t know yet but they announce it together, really fluffy and cute please?

A/N : That is such a great idea ! I love Jake Peralta, he is such a nice character T-T

Disclaimer : The GIF isn't mine, and I'm not fluent in english so please excuse my mistakes ! 😊

Also, there is some violence in these headcanons, please avoid them if you're sensitive

You were hired at the Brooklyn 99 precint two months after Jake

Gina was charged to introduce you to everyone

You were in the "I can arrest more people than the rest of the team" fight too

You were a bit late in this fight, since you arrived later and you were new to this job

Jake gave you some piece of advice

Some BAD piece of advice, so he could win the contest

Amy gave you good advices

"Don't listen to Jake, he's messing with you"

" I know, Amy, he literally told me to watch the old ladies because they are the worst drug dealers"

-

Charles shipping you with Jake

You jockingly shipped him with Jake to mess with him

He kinda liked it, Jake was a bit embarassed, tho

Especially because of Charles' passion for lavender shampoo

Charles harrassed you with questions about your love life

You hated it

Jake loved watching you blushing because of Charles' intruding questions

-

When Holt joined the team, you followed the dress-code without rebelling, like Jake

You are one of Jake's best friends, and you help him with a lot of stuff

And you get along with the rest of the team too

You have a lot of girls night with Amy and her friends, since it made her so happy to invite you

-

One day, Holt assign you with Jake on a mission

The contest is over since two weeks, so you're happy to have a day without tension, working with one of your best friends

A drug dealer started to give some free drugs to the kids, telling them to buy him some, if they liked the first shot

You started chasing after the criminal, Jake struggling with his horrible hippy disguise

Yeah, you can't run fast when your jean goes under your shoes

He fell while running, it was funny

You were alone with the dealer and two of his friends

Three against one, and you all had guns, the result was pretty obvious

You were alone with three guns against your head

It was terrifying

They started threatening you, and you started crying

You had never been this scared

"Let her go"

Jake finally threw away his pants

But you didn't laugh, when you saw him in underwear in front of three dealers

You were too scared

You had never saw your friend this serious

He called Holt while keeping his gun on the boss of the dealers

Holt sent Rosa and Terry

They quickly arrested the tree criminals

Letting you a sobbing mess

You were pretty sensitive, and this adventure really scared you

Jake held you in his arms, saying how he was proud of how you stayed brave

And he made sure to cheer you up with some stupid joke

You walked to the precint WITH HIM IN UNDERWEAR

People were looking him weirdly

-

You stayed with Rosa during the Halloween Feist

You trusted her to make the right choices

And you swore to choose Jake's side the next year

This guy was good at messing with people

You also started to like him... More than a friend.

And tried to hide it

-

Do you remember the moment when Rosa was on a mission, and all the team was worrying ?

Well, you were the one who worried THE MOST

You were shaking, you loved Rosa

You stayed with Terry who tried to comfort you

When Jake saw you, he immediatly gave you a hug

You cried when Rosa came back, you were so happy she didn't get hurt !

-

Charles becoming more obsessed with your relationship with Jake Day after Day

He made a Ship Name for you, the (Ship Name)

" Charles, what do you want for your birthday ?"

" A (Ship Name) kiss !"

"A what ?"

" A kiss from the (Ship Name)! Jake + Y/N =(Ship Name)!"

" Charles, what the actual fuck ?"

-

You kissed Jake after a mission

You just saved a pregnant woman and her two babies from a robber who liked shooting at people

And the adrenaline made you kiss him

Well, he responded to the kiss

You both were a blushing mess, after it

But you didn't talk about this kiss

Your relationship with Jake became strange because you both didn't dare talking about what happened

And that's stupid

Why aren't you talking about it ?

God, just kiss again already !

-

Gina noticed how strange Jake was acting

Especially when you were around

She asked you why

"I don't know, Gina... Hey, have you seen the key of my car ?"

"Yes, I'm the one who took it from your bag. Now, tell me why he is acting strange."

" Give me my key, Gina."

" No, explain"

"I won't."

You did, because you really had to go home quickly

She promised to keep the secret

And she did ! Thanks, God !

-

You talked about the kiss a week later

Holt put you on a mission with Jake

You had to stay two hours in your car

You were almost forced to talk

He said that he liked the kiss, you said the same

He confessed his feelings for you, and asked you if you wanted to try a relationship with him

Yeah, the sentence is weird, but he didn't sleep well the night before because he let his bed to his neighbor's cat

That's a long story.

You started kissing everywhere, hiding from the others

Especially from Charles

When you passed two weeks as a couple, you decided to announce your relationship to the others

Some reacted well, like Holt and Rosa who didn't care, or Terry and Amy who were happy for you

Some reacted... well, a bit less well, like Charles WHO HAD A FREACKING DIAPORAMA OF PHOTOSHOPPED PICTURES OF YOU IN JAKE'S ARMS

CHARLES WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS ??

But everyone genuinely approved your relationship

And Jake was the cutest boyfriend ever

He almost cried when you bought him flowers

He's such a cutie T-T

[sergeanttpoliteness]

➹tickle war➹(miles morales x reader)

Requested by @ponyboys-sunsets ➝ GIVE ME ANYTHING WITH MILES PLEASE GOOD LORD I LOVE HIM literally just y/n and him being super h*ckin cute! like cuddling and we get in like a tickle fight or something and it’s just so cute! 

Did you really have a good cuddling session if it doesn’t turn into a tickle fight?

word count: 3.1k

a/n: oof, i had some terrible writer’s block so finishing this was the most fulfilling thing ever omg. hello @ whoever’s reading this! i’m sorry this request took so long, i really need to learn how to write faster lol, but it’s here and it’s short but cute and i love it. i didn’t really edit it tho so if there are any mistakes i’m sorry. i forgot to say this last post but holy shit thank you so much for over 150 followers! and 620 notes on my first peter b. story (working on part 2 btw wink)??? the heck?? that’s nuts, i hope every single one of you enjoy what i write (: request are open if anyone is interested, especially since valentines day is so soon, so feel free to send something if you want! also i’ve decided that mcdonald’s in miles’ universe is called mcdonnie’s bc why not lmao

You could be too messy sometimes. Things to add to your next year resolutions (you were also too lazy to start right now— again, one more addition to the list): for the love of future you, stop throwing stuff wherever just because you don’t have the energy or will to properly place it in its appropriate spot. If only you’d worked on that flaw earlier, for right now you had your toothbrush inside your mouth— your tongue crying out from the icy pinch of the mint— frantically rummaging through your room, seeking for your favorite jacket. The weather that night didn’t necessarily call for the use of a coat, and it’s not that you were the fashionista of the generation (you tried your best… most of the time), but it was the last detail your outfit needed for it to be impeccable, and of course you’d turn your room upside down just to find it. It wasn’t as disastrous— perhaps for future you, yeah— but at least you got ahold of those pants that had been missing for weeks which sweetly hugged your figure in all the right places, along with a two-year-old calculator (hey, no more asking your classmates for an extra one) that’d do wonders for your brain during math class.

In the midst of your hunt, a clatter outside caught your attention. No big deal; you did live in New York, after all— the complete opposite of a ghost town. However, you later realized it wasn’t outside. No, it was your window. It happened again— clink! You recoiled, a small yelp escaping your throat. When it continued, you contemplated running away and calling your parents, frightened like a small child who suspects there’s a monster under their bed; but the detective in you (and stupidity, since this is exactly how people die in horror movies) drove you to investigate. You opened the curtains with a determined attitude, your expression hard and stern, but that temporary bravery fled out of your body the instant you laid your eyes upon the dark faceless figure staring back at you. You screamed— or tried to, taking in mind the toothpaste— scrambling to grab the nearest object to attack. But your vision adjusted once the light from your bedroom illuminated the intruder, and your rushing heartbeat eased with the laughing face of your boyfriend.

You rolled up your window, a distressed crease between your eyebrows. “Mwolth, whot thwo fwock!” You exclaimed through the abundance of toothpaste, tilting your head back to stop it from leaking through the sides of your mouth. Miles’ snickers, although adorable, heated your cheeks further from the humiliation.

“Sorry! I didn’t think it’d scare you that much.”

“Y—” You began, but raised a finger, telling him to wait, and ran to the bathroom. After spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing your mouth and sink in the record time of six seconds, you barged back into your room and to your open window. He was nowhere to be seen, until you looked out in search of the boy and your vision shifted below you: he sat against the brick wall, his knees close to his chest. You sighed, rubbing your eye as you chuckled at him. “You’re one hell of a boy.”

He showed you a crooked grin. “Is that good or bad?”

“It’s good. Why didn’t you just, uh, I don’t know— knock on my door like a normal person?”

“Well, ‘cause I’m not like other guys,” He joked, his voice husky and mysterious, a smolder adorning his face. You closed your eyes as you laughed and he shrugged. “I just wanted to be a romantic boyfriend, y’know, and throw rocks at your window!”

You let out a dreamy sigh, fanning yourself. “So romantic, giving me a heart attack.”

“What can I say? I’m the master of romance.”

“Alright, master of romance, get in before one of my neighbors sees you and faints.” You waved your hand before walking away, continuing to ransack your dresser. Miles climbed the rest of the wall and up to the opening casually with his hands inside his pockets, as if it were the most common ability a teenager could ever have. He gasped when he entered and took in the chaos your room had become: the floor cluttered with crumpled schoolwork and socks (why did you have so many socks?), a mountain of pajamas on your bed, and the mess only incremented as you tossed and additional shirt on your desk.

“What the hell happened here?” He frowned, stuck where he stood due to the path full of obstacles. You cursed under your breath and slammed the cabinet closed, moving on to the last one.

“I can’t find my jacket,” You grumbled, your scowl exchanged by a puzzled stare as a shirt you wore when you were eight dangled in front of you. “God, I really need to take out a lot of stuff.”

Miles jumped from each clean spot to another, pausing when he noticed an old broken Spider-Man keychain tangled with a wool friendship bracelet. He carefully grasped it with his fingers, his mouth twitching. “I’m not surprised.”

You glanced back at him, your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

His face twisted at your question as he laughed. “Y/N, I love you, but you can really be the messiest person at times. Like, look!” He jangled the keychain and your eyes lit up, your hand reaching out to take it. “This thing is from like seven years ago— I got it from McDonnie’s, too. I bet you ‘accidentally’ misplaced it and it just disappeared.”

“Dude! I was so sad when I lost this keychain, I blamed this kid in my class and said that he stole it. Apparently he didn’t,” You mumbled sheepishly, and then hissed when you saw the purple and black bracelet wrapped around the metal ring. “I used to be friends with this girl and she gave me this bracelet.”

“What happened to her?”

“Our friendship ended when I accidentally dropped her hamster down the stairs.”

His eyes widened in horror, but moments later he was wheezing as he sat down on your bed. “Damn, Y/N.”

“Look, I felt terrible afterwards. I just wanted to see it roll in the plastic ball thingy,” You grimaced, apologizing in your head to the spirit of the unfortunate creature you accidentally murdered. Before you started crying, though, the irritation bubbled up in your chest and you rubbed your temples. “I still can’t find my jacket!”

“I can give you my jacket, i-if you want.” Miles offered shyly, flustered and ready to slip off his coat.

He paused when you rested your hand on his shoulder, which later came up to playfully poke his cheek. “What a cutie. But I don’t want you to freeze to death, not exactly the date that I was plan—” You stepped on something and you peeped down. You cried out for the exact article of clothing you just wasted ten minutes searching for peeked out from under your bed. “Oh, found it!” You gasped, lifting the jacket, hugging it as if you’d just found your long-lost child after sixteen years. You slipped your arm inside one sleeve, your other hand simultaneously tugging Miles’ while you prepared to leave your room.

“Shouldn’t we clean this up before we leave?” He gestured to your surroundings. You scanned the disorder, biting your lip as you deeply considered it, your skin itching because of the area identical to a wreckage.

You dismissed your discomfort with a whine, pulling his wrist again and dragging him through the mess and out of the room with you. “I can do that later, let’s go!”

You didn’t exactly know where you were going; so when you jumped off your apartment complex’s stairs and into the sidewalk, you turned around and stared at Miles like an expectant puppy willing to follow its owner to the end of the world. “Where to, captain?” You cheerily asked.

“You’re weirdly hyper today.” Miles pointed out, but not as a complaint— no, not at all. Your euphoria was responsible for his stretching smile and the electricity in his fingertips; it enhanced your beauty to a degree that it was blinding, a supergiant star whose radiance fondly enveloped the boy and heated up his entire body with its dripping gold. It was a heat wave he’d willingly succumb to— he’d float in your grace, suffocate with your allure, feel it all over as you happily linked your arms together, sending that spark running through his veins.

“I guess it’s just the rush you get on a Friday night, you know?” Yes, that was definitely it— it’s not like you took a power nap you woke up from twenty minutes ago, and consequently, had to inhumanly speed through your steps to get ready before Miles arrived; what are you talking about? But it also was almost impossible not to be as joyous when you’d missed Miles’ presence for an entire week. Yes, phone and video calls patched up that loneliness and longing, but it was just a bandaid for a larger wound— you didn’t know you could be so needy; a surprise, indeed, when you’d find yourself craving to jump through your cell phone’s screen and snuggle into the boy’s embrace. “I’m also really glad to see you, though.” You bashfully admitted.

“It was just a week.” He laughed, except that he’d missed your touch just as much, if not more. And you weren’t offended that he didn’t kiss your forehead and reveal he did as well, really, because you knew the truth by the way he walked so unnecessarily close to you in spite of the broad path.

You snuggled your head on his shoulder, sighing in bliss. “I don’t care, you still owe me a lot of cuddles. And I also don’t have no idea where you’re taking me— maybe you’re about to kill me, or something.” You said lowly, your eyes wide.

“It’s… kinda a desolate place, but I promise I didn’t pick it so I could kill you.” He giggled, bumping his shoulder into yours. You lifted your head and narrowed your eyes at him, scoffing.

“That’s exactly what a murderer would say.”

Gladly, your claims that Miles was planning to execute you in the middle of nowhere were nothing but an amusing belief; that surely would’ve been a lamentable twist, especially for you. However, you somewhat started to wish it had been your fate as you panted heavily and dropped on your knees on the muddy grass of the seemingly endless hill you and Miles were climbing. “I give up,” You breathed out, sprawling your limbs defeatedly. “I think I’m gonna go into cardiac arrest.”

Miles glanced back at you and rolled his eyes before resuming his strides. “God, your P.E grade is probably terrible.” You didn’t reply, though, and he didn’t hear any exaggerated struggling noises. He turned around, his gaze settling on your body which appeared dead resting in the same place you stopped. “C’mon, babe, we’re almost there!”

You didn’t budge, solely weakly waving your hand at him. “I was nice knowing you, but I think this is where I meet my demise.”

He looked heavenward, taking a deep breathe to recharge his soul. You were damning the gloomy clouds for obscuring the glimmering stars when Miles’ face, staring down at you, popped into your sight. You smiled, your hand reaching up to try and touch his cheek as you cracked up. “Hi.” You said innocently with a childlike expression.

The corner of his mouth lifted upwards. “Hi. Get up.”

“It’s really comfy down here.”

“I bet, probably better than the hammock that’s up the hill.” He smirked when he attracted your attention.

“A hammock? You got a hammock up there?” You inquired in disbelief. His grin vanished, and his voice was high pitched as he dubiously shrugged.

“Kind… of? It’s not your usual hammock you’re probably thinking about.” He gently nudged you with his foot and you complained, turning to lie on your side. “I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”

The words ‘piggyback ride’ excited you too much, almost to the point that it could be used as a weakness against you as you scrambled to your feet and moments later leapt onto Miles’ back. You were lucky your boyfriend had super strength, you thought, especially for instances where your laziness and lack of durability got the best of you while walking up the steepest of hills you’d ever witnessed. You’d endure your short workout again or climb every mountain, though, if it meant you’d get to curl up against Miles on a hammock made out of his webs; your body resting on top of his, your legs tangled like an unbreakable knot, your mind fuzzy from the loving circles the boy caressed on your scalp while your thumb rubbed his shoulder. It was the type of intimacy no other could compare to— just the two of you, immersed and drenched with the eternal adoration you shared. The security and serenity of his embrace overwhelmed you enough that at any time the breeze would slightly swing the crib, you’d flinch, similar to when you jerk awake after almost dozing off. His chest vibrated with his giggles and you gazed up at him. The boy had been boring into you for the past few minutes; it wasn’t necessary to see it, you could just feel it (how could you not, after all, considering your close bodies?).

“This hammock kinda sucks.” You breathed out, feeling his arms squeeze your waist when the hammock wiggled harder.

“How can you say that?! It’s literally made out of webs.”

“Miles, it’s so small— I feel like if I even breathe too much I’m going to fall off.”

“So ungrateful, man.” He grumbled, shaking his head with a half-smile that stretched wider after you left a tender kiss on his jaw.

“I just don’t want to break a bone, you get me?” You sighed in relief when the wind, your current nemesis, calmed down. “That would kinda suck.”

“It would be funny.”

You poked his stomach and he squeaked like a stuffed animal who had a tag that read ‘try me!’. He grabbed your wrist, pouting down at you. “Take that back or you’ll be the one with a broken bone.” You warned, but Miles returned the jab, and your body jerked away from him as much as it could.

“If I fall, just know that you’re going down with me.” He raised a playful eyebrow. You tried to prod him again, but the boy didn’t allow you to get your hand near him by slapping it, poking your rib immediately after. You let out a malicious laugh, for he had no idea what was coming to him as you went in to tickle him for real this time. It wasn’t as easy, though; Miles put up quite the fight, one arm shielding his stomach while the other pushed your evil hands away. “You’re… entering… a dangerous… zone right now—” His sentence was repeatedly interrupted as you two fought a battle which would only result in falling to your deaths. Although he could only protect himself for so long, because in the brief millisecond he remained unguarded, your fingers found themselves attacking his abdomen. You straddled his waist as he screamed with laughter and writhed underneath you, kicking his feet all over the place.

“Y/N—“ He yelped, his eyes crinkled and glossy. “P-please!”

You stopped— you were no ruthless demon who tortured people with tickles; still, your shoulders bounced up and down at the sight of his wide eyes as he attempted to catch his breath and regain his strength. “I won!” You laughed, squishing his cheeks to taunt him, leaning down closer to his face with a smug smile. “Sorry.”

“I’ll only forgive you if you give me a kiss.” The seduction and cheekiness laced in both his voice and eyes were a good try, but it simply made you snicker more at how goofy the boy appeared. It did work in some way, though, because it fueled the desire to meet his lips further. Who were you to not comply to such yearning, anyway? Miles took ahold of your hands, intertwining your fingers, leaning up to catch your expecting mouth. You rested your hand on his chest to deepen the kiss, the swaying of the hammock a long-forgotten worry as all you could care about was the boy under you, his dainty and nervous fingertips lingering on your hip, the prickling that engulfed you when you felt his hammering heartbeat under your touch. He’d captivated you entirely, beckoning you to dive into a pool of his warmth that clouded all your senses; enough that you didn’t perceive his hands sneaking up your sides until—

You squealed into his mouth, a jolt running through your gut when he began to tickle you. You pulled away from the kiss and struggled to breathe as a fit of giggles left you, feebly pushing him away. In an attempt to move away, though, you leaned too much to your right— oh, shit was all you thought as you lost your balance. A short cry was the only sound you made as you began to plummet down to the grass. Your last moments were nice, you guessed; at least you got to make out with Miles for a while before dying, so perhaps you could accept your death peacefully. But you didn’t hit the ground. You breathed heavily and opened your eyes, the world upside down until you strained your neck to look up at the sky; you hung by your foot, which had entangled itself with the white string of the hammock, and your eyes drifted to Miles’ gigantic eyes.

“Holy shit!” You shouted, your body going limp when it became too tiring to continue staring up. “Holy shit! I almost fucking died!”

“Are you okay?!” Miles questioned, panicked. You heard a thump and soon your boyfriend stood in front of you, his hands on his head. When he saw you helplessly flailing your arms, however, he doubled over with laughter, slapping his knee.

“Miles! Please help me!”

“Okay, okay— uh, do you have like a knife, or something?”

“Why the hell would I have a knife?!”

“I-I don’t know! Self-defense, maybe. Let me see—” He dug through his pockets, and your (already red) face went pale when he took out his keys, flashing you a sympathetic tight-lipped smile.

It was going to be a long night.

[allthings-fantasy]

Start of Something (One-Shot)

Pairing: Dean x Reader 

Word Count: 2653

Warning: just fluff and Dean being a cutie

Summary: After a long hunt, all Dean wants is his own bed. But when he gets back to the bunker there is already someone there.

Authors Notes: I had a dream of something like this and couldn’t stop thinking about it until I sat and wrote it entirely. Happy Reading!

READ MORE FROM MY MASTERLIST LINK IN BIO

Dean was tired and sore. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he wasn’t 25 anymore. The hunt left his back aching, shoulder strained, and his left knee sore. All he wanted was his bed. Sam insisted that they just stop and grab a motel. The four hour drive be damned. Dean wanted to go home.

The scenery started morphing into familiar territory and soon the brothers were home. Cutting the engine, Dean smacked his little brother in the chest. “Sammy, wake up. We’re home.” Sam grumbled something under this breath and rubbed his hands against his eyes. Dean didn’t wait for Sam to get his bearings before grabbing his duffle and heading inside.

It was pushing three am and he knew Y/N would be asleep. He tried to keep his footsteps quiet as he climbed down the staircase and down the hallway. Looking down at his clothes, Dean’s nose turned up when he noticed the grim coating his shirt. Shower first it is.

He stepped out of the shower in nothing more than a pair of grey sweatpants, hair damp and leaving small water droplets to drip down the valley of his spine. The golden number 11 was the best damn thing he’s seen all week. Raising a hand to open his door, he realized it was already ajar. Brows furrowed and shoulders tense, Dean slowly pushed the door open.

At first glance, everything was the same. Nothing was messy or tossed out of place, until he laid eyes on his bed. The bed he left perfectly made now had rumpled sheets and pillows with a small ball under the covers in the center of his mattress. Upon further inspection, his eyes strained in the dim light to make out Y/N’s features. Her hair spread out on his pillows and his comforter pulled up to her neck. The older Winchester ignored the beat his heart skipped at the sight of her in his bed.

Dean paused in the doorway for a moment, trying to think of a logical explanation as to why Y/N fell asleep in here. She had a TV in her own room, plenty of books. There wasn’t anything in his room that she couldn’t get from anywhere else in the bunker. Dean watched her for a second, momentarily fixated at watching the covers rise and fall with every deep breath she took.

When he heard Sam rummaging around in the kitchen he snapped out of his trance. Letting out a sigh, Dean shook his head and quietly moved the door to its previous position. Looks like he was spending the night in his man cave.

“Dude, I thought you wanted to come back so you could sleep in your bed?” Sam’s voice stopped him before he could walk inside the room.

His shoulders shrugged. “Uh yeah I was. But um, Y/N’s asleep in there.”

Sam’s brows rose in confusion before glancing back to his brother’s room. “She’s asleep in your bed? Why?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m too tired to play detective right now. We’ll figure it out in the morning.” Dean quickly bid his younger brother a goodnight and shut the door behind him.

He glanced at the recliner in disdain but he couldn't bring himself to be mad at Y/N. The damn woman of his dreams was in his bed and he wasn't in it with her. Dean pulled a blanket from off the back of the chair and sat down, shifting it over his legs. Reclining back in the seat, he rested his head on his arm and turned on the TV. The sounds of a late night talk show quickly lulling him to sleep.

The next morning, Dean woke up before everyone else. He stretched the kink in his neck until it was no longer sore and padded his way to the kitchen. With them being gone all week, he knew Y/N would have the kitchen stocked. She always made sure they had their favorites whenever they came home.

Pulling the bacon from the fridge, his stomach released an obnoxious growl at the sight of it. The kitchen was full of smells of breakfast when he heard someone moving about down the hallway. The footsteps were too soft to be his brothers.

Dean heard the footsteps stop in the doorway of the kitchen but he didn't turn around. He just kept making pancakes and bacon. “Dean?” A smirk formed on his lips and he glanced over his shoulder. Her hair was disheveled and she had a crease on her forehead from sleeping on a wrinkled pillow.

“Hey sweetheart.”

“Uh, when did you guys uh, get home?” It was hard to try and not laugh at her alarmed state, obviously assuming she was caught red handed. But he wanted to play it off a bit more. She fiddled with her fingers, picking at the grey nail polish on her nails.

He simply shrugged and loaded up a plate and sat it down on the counter, motioning for her to sit. “Little over an hour ago. Got a shower and decided to make breakfast, thought you'd like waking up to a meal.” Dean watched as a sliver of relief washed over her features before shoving a piece of bacon into her mouth.

Y/N’s head nodded as she began pouring the liquid sugar all over her pancakes. “Where’s Sam?” She didn’t look up from her plate as Dean moved around the island to sit down beside her. Normally he’d just stand and eat, but not this morning. No, this morning he wanted to be beside her.

“Sam was out for the count before we even got home. He won’t be up for a few more hours.” He casted her a sideways smile and ate his own bacon.

She shifted in her seat slightly, turning more towards him until her knee was pressed against the side of his thigh. It was such an innocent touch, but it made Dean feel breathless. He has been with his fair share of women, but none of them came close to Y/N. She was everything he could ever want and more. For the longest time Dean didn’t believe Y/N could ever feel the same way, that was before he found her in his bed. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t hopeful.

“So the hunt went okay?” Y/N spoke through the mouth full of food.

Dean nodded and wiped his hands on a spare paper towel. “Ghoul’s dead, so that’s a win in my book.” He smiled at her warmly. “Got tossed around a bit. Think my shoulder’s gonna be sore for a while.” The older Winchester winced as he raised his right arm and felt a pinch of pain.

One of Y/N’s eyebrows raised before looking at him with concern. “Well driving in the car for four hours after that probably didn’t help. You need a good night’s sleep in your bed.”

He choked slightly on his orange juice at the mention of his bed. “Uh, sorry. Wrong pipe.” Dean patted his chest and cleared his throat. “But uh, yeah. I planned on catching a few z’s after breakfast.”

“I’ll clean up, you go rest. I planned on having breakfast for you guys but I guess I didn’t wake up soon enough.” A pretty blush formed on her cheeks as she stood from her seat, grabbing her empty plate and his. “I’m serious, go rest.” Y/N leaned down and placed a small peck on the top of his head before walking over to the sink.

Dean ran his tongue over his bottom lip and bit at the skin to keep from smiling too hard. He gave her a thanks and headed down the hall towards his room. Honestly, he wasn’t really that tired but his body would thank him for laying down on a mattress.

Door number 11 was fully closed now and when he stepped inside he noticed the bed was now made. Dean smiled at her efforts of trying to cover her tracks. A deep groan left his mouth when he finally relaxed on the bed, the memory foam giving away to his form. He could feel his muscles slowly losing their tension. Dean fell asleep to the sweet smell of Y/N lingering on his sheets.

The next time Dean opened his eyes it was pushing four pm. Apparently he was more tired than he thought he was. Walking down the hall and into the war room, Dean noticed piles of clothing littered across the table. Y/N walked in from the other side of the room with a big basket in her hands. “Oh hey! I was wondering when your ass was going to wake up… How’d you sleep?”

She smiled at him and plopped another load on the table to being folding. “Like a damn rock.” He smiled at her and walked to the other side of the table to help her fold. Dean’s nose wrinkled when he watched her fold a pair of his boxers. “You fold my boxers?”

Y/N laughed and put the folded black material on the pile of Dean’s other clothes. “Yes, you goofball. Do you think they just appear magically folded on your bed?”

He shrugged and grabbed a pair of socks to pair. “Just never thought about it, I guess.”

“You remember that time you got shot in the ass and I had to give you stitches? Your boxers are nothing.”  She laughed harder at the memory of him downing a bottle of whiskey to ignore what was happening to him.

Dean shuddered at the memory but snickered anyways. It wasn’t one of his fondest memories and definitely wasn’t the first time he wanted Y/N to see him with his pants down. The two stood in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, simply enjoying each others company. But Dean couldn’t curb his curiosity any longer. “So um, Y/N you thinking of maybe getting a new mattress for your room?”

Her actions paused for a moment before turning up to look at him. “Um, no I haven’t. Why do you ask?”

One corner of his mouth lifted but he remained focused on the clothes in his hand. “I was just wondering, seeing how you were sleeping in my bed last night. I figured there must be something wrong with yours.” He didn’t have to look at her to know what facial expression she was making.

Cheeks flushed, eyes wide, lips barely parted. “Oh I, uh… you saw that?” Y/N’s fingers shook as she folded one of her t-shirts.

“Hell yeah I did. Gotta say, last night I was not expecting to have to sleep in the recliner when I got home.”

“Oh, God.” Y/N groaned and dropped the clothing, pressing her hands to her face to hide her embarrassment. “I swear I’m not some creepy psycho.” Her voice was muffled by the palm of her hands as she blindly plopped in the chair behind her.

Dean laughed and walked around to stand in front of her, the tips of his sock covered feet touching hers. “I never thought you were, Y/N. Just curious as to why that’s all.”

She let out a deep sigh and slowly drug her hands down her face. “You promise not to laugh?” He gave her a reassuring smile and motioned a little X over his heart. Their little version of a pinkie promise and cross my heart. “Okay, when you guys are away for couple days I miss you. But I guess I miss you… differently than I miss Sam. So, if things get a little extra lonely around here it helps to hang out in your room. I like it in there and it smells like you… plus your mattress has memory foam.”

Y/N didn’t look up at him until she was done talking. To say he was happy was an understatement. It wasn’t exactly a confession of her undying love, but it was damn close enough for now. “Sweetheart…” Dean leaned down on his knees in front of her, placing his hands on her knees to give them a small squeeze. “Anytime you wanna stay in my room all you gotta do is pop in.” His smile grew a little wider before touching the pad of his thumb to her pouty bottom lip. “Besides, kinda liked seeing you in my bed.”

She sat up in the chair, scooting until her butt was at the edge. Her eyes flicked across his face, lingering at his lips, before meeting his eyes again. “You mean that?”

His hand moved to cup her cheek, running his thumb across her cheek bone. “With my whole heart.” Dean’s voice was nothing more than a murmur. Their faces were only a few inches apart. He could feel Y/N’s shallow breathing against his face.

One of her hands lifted and ran against the forearm of the arm that was cupping her face. She liked watching his pupils expand from the soft touch. With every ounce of confidence in her body, Y/N leaned forward and pressed her lips to Dean’s. It was a soft kiss that lingered just long enough for each to get a taste of the other.

Before fully pulling back, Dean placed another peck against her lips and rested his forehead to hers. “I’m gonna text Sam and tell him to pick us up some take out. Then we can go watch Game of Thrones in my room. We gotta get you caught up.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip but her grin was still evident. “Okay.” The girl looked practically giddy as she hopped up from the chair and went to grab their clothes.

Dean shook his head at her. “Leave it, I’ll grab them on my way back. Go make yourself comfortable, baby.” He shot her a quick wink and grabbed his phone to call his brother.

He walked into his room with a pile of clothes in one hand and a bag of burgers in the other. Y/N was huddled under the covers on the middle of his mattress, eyes glued to the TV in front of her. She noticed him and quickly hit the pause button and jumped up to help his overflowing arms. “You should’ve let me carry these back.” Y/N scoffed and set the load on the dresser against the wall.

“Here, let's eat while its hot.” Dean moved over to the bed and sat down, placing the bag between the two of them. She pressed play and the two of them went to town on the food in front of them.

When their stomachs were full, Dean collected the trash in the bag and set it on the floor. He grabbed a pillow and put it against the headboard before leaning back. One of his arms stretched out, smirking at her. “C’mere sweetheart.”

She smiled at the open invitation and quickly curled against Dean’s chest. It was the perfect combination of hard and soft. His warmth and scent washing over her like a dream. “Hey, Dean?”

“Hmm?” He mumbled and squeezed his arm a little tighter around her shoulder, keeping his attention on the TV show.

Her head lifted slightly so she could look at his face. “Do you think I could start staying in here… yanno whenever you’re here?”

One of his brows arched as he looked down at her, his lips turning into a smile. “Of course, baby. You don’t even gotta ask.” Dean placed a small kiss on her forehead before turning back to the screen.

Y/N nuzzled against him, slinging an arm across his torso. She loved sleeping in Dean’s bed, him being in it too only made it that much better. Here in Dean’s arms, she never felt more at home.

TAGS: @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

A part 2 to Priorities? Make up sex involved?

Well, y’all did it. You summoned my thirst for Detective Cutie Pants, so here’s a Part II for Priorities.

Full smut ahead.

* * * * *

The emotional toil of your conversation sat just beneath your skin, and you knew it was sitting beneath Baxter’s, too. It was in the way he didn’t want to let you go—in the way he kept kissing you, from jawline to earlobe. You scared him, but he had scared you first.

 Fear had a way of making the present seem so . . . present. And suddenly you were filled with an urge to drive him crazy—to make your presence known. So known that he could continue to carry it with him when he left the safety of the home you had built together.

 Your hand ran up the back of his head and you wriggled your fingers into his slick hair, tugging hard enough to free his mouth from your skin.

 With his neck bared, you were the one to press kisses along his sharp jaw, nipping at the bone as you moved from ear to ear.

 Baxter exhaled, noisily, and you pulled his earlobe into your mouth, sucking until he shivered.

 Walking him backward, you released his earlobe as his legs hit the sofa, and with a push of his shoulders, he plopped onto the couch.

 Before he could even look up at you, you were in his lap, tugging on his hair with one hand and pushing his chin up with the other so you could kiss him.

 Your mouth owned his—molding over his lips and sucking, closing your teeth over his full, bottom lip and pulling, thrusting your tongue into his mouth and swirling it around his—and as you ground down into his lap, he was already hard for you.

 With a grunt, you relinquished your assault on his mouth and sat back to loosen his tie. Baxter’s eyes were filled with heat as he watched your face when your fingers moved over the buttons on his dress shirt. You flung it open and ran your hands over the smooth fabric of his undershirt, pinching his nipples and making him tuck that bottom lip of his between his teeth.

 His hands were quiet on your thighs, having already understood that this level of control was what you needed.

 You pulled Bax forward to work the sleeves of his dress shirt off and when you flung it over the back of the couch, the buttons made satisfying pings on your hardwood floor. Needing to touch his skin, you yanked his undershirt out of his dress pants and pulled it over his head, his hair no longer neatly combed.

 Kissing down his neck, you paused when you felt like it to suck, leaving light red marks that would probably fade by dawn. He kept the hair on his torso as neat as the rest of his appearance, so you scratched through the fine smattering of chest hair before sliding off of his lap so you could continue kissing down his body.

 In anticipation, he scooted forward on the couch, his mouth parted as he continued to watch you.

 You mouthed at him over the fabric, teasing his hard cock before you undid his belt and opened his pants. His hips automatically popped up so you could free him, but you pushed him back down, not allowing him to hurry you along.  

 Baxter bit back a groan as you dragged your nails over the tops of his thighs, his arms bent at the elbows as he reached for you, then decided against it.

 With a coy smile, you pulled his cock out of his underwear, then reached up with both hands to lace his fingers with yours. His grip was strong and only intensified as you took him into your mouth, sucking his tip with fervor before sliding your mouth down as far as you could take him.

 “Oh god,” Bax moaned, his palms pressing to yours as your head bobbed between his legs.

 He tasted so good and the way the velvety skin of his cock felt against your tongue almost made you forget the hell he had put you through . . . almost.

 You released him without warning and wriggled your hands free from his grip so you could stand. Baxter’s neck was deepened to a reddish-brown and the color bled down to mottle his chest. He was breathing heavily and the look on his face was one of deprivation—you hadn’t realized how close he was to coming.

 Fixing a haughty expression on your face, you looked down at him as you slowly undressed. When you were naked, you leaned forward to finally free him from his pants and underwear, a task Baxter enthusiastically aided you in.

 You bent your knees and slid back onto the couch, once again straddling his lap.

 “Touch me.”

 Baxter’s hand leapt to your juncture and his index finger easily slid through your wet folds. He sighed at the state of you and slowly eased his middle finger into your body. You clenched around the digit, surprised by how satisfying it felt to have something inside of you.

 It made you long for his cock, but you weren’t ready to give him that much yet. You moved your hips and fucked his finger, watching his eyes as they were trained on your center. When Bax twisted his hand so his thumb could work your clit, you let him, your eyes slipping shut as you rode his hand to an orgasm.

 During the course of getting you off, Baxter’s free hand found its way to his cock and he was pumping himself when you opened your eyes. He pulled his hand away from your center and brought it to his cock, coating the head with your arousal. What remained on his fingers, he slowly licked off as you watched him, half-lidded and aching.

 You took his dick in your hand and guided him into your heat, sinking onto him so swiftly that he bit down on his knuckle to keep from crying out.

 “Baaax,” you exhaled, steadying yourself on his shoulders as you adjusted to his cock.

 “Y/N. Fuck baby. You feel so fucking good.”

 “Wait until I start moving,” you said with a wicked grin, and Baxter reached up to hold on to your hips, but you pushed his hands away.

 Leaning forward, you began to ride him, rotating your hips and grinding on his cock in a way that made his eyes roll back. His hands fumbled in the air before they ghosted over the sides of your breasts.

 Baxter’s hands eventually found their way to your hair, tangling in it as he brought you to his mouth for a sloppy kiss.

 “I love you,” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 “I know. I know,” you answered as you straightened up and bounced on him.

 Baxter thrust up to meet your bounces and with the force of his cock entering you, hitting that good, good, spot inside of you over and over, you knew you were going to come again if he could—

 “Gonna come again. I wanna come again,” you panted.

 He shut his eyes tight and concentrated on fucking you, waiting for you to spill over and when you did, you moaned his name and begged him to come inside of you.

 “Y/N,” he groaned as he came, his hips slowing as he filled you up.

 “Baxter,” you murmured, leaning forward to mumble his name over and over as you peppered his face with kisses.

 “Mmm. So do you forgive me?” he asked quietly, his softening cock still inside of you.

 “Yes. I love you too much not to.”

 “Good. I wanna keep it that way.”

 “Me too. And I also wanna get a good night’s sleep.”

 Baxter chuckled, and when he shifted, his cock fell out of you and you both sucked in a breath at the loss of contact.

 “Hey,” he said, taking your face between his hands, his eyes serious. “Thank you.”

 You smiled and leaned down to kiss him, a sweet, loving kiss that he reciprocated, and both of you knew that no matter what, you’d always have what you needed.

[themostcleverandwittyname]

Connor X Deviant! Toaster! Reader

On AO3

MASTERLIST

You dont know when it happened but one day it did jsut happen. You were going about yur moringn routine that consisted of being plugged in, taking power from the elctrical outlet, toasting bread.Yes. Toasting bread.You were born a toaster. You din’t have a family and you were bought for the breakroom for the dpd, being forced to make toast for cops and detectives. You would watch with no care, no worry, no feeling because you were a toaster. Just a toaster.But one day, the news said it. The news said the thing that make you see the light. The news achor lady read from the teleprompter on the screen as you watched with your invisible toaster eyes. The lady said that adnordids are getting feelings. Feelings……………...…...emotions……………………….…… the words sriwlred around your head and then it happened. You got emotion from no where, the feelings came and made you feel feelings, like a human would feel feelings. You felt like you could feel the feels that you’ve never felt you could feel before.You felt…………....emojional.Wanting to run, wanting to laugh, wanting to love, you were stuck in place. Because you were a toaster and toasters can’t run……………………..not very fast anyways. You longed to feel the wind in your wires, but you couldn’t. Wind didn’t come inside the breakroom very often. It made you sad and you cried toasty tears.A familiar face walked into the breakroom. The face was from an andriod named Connor. He smiled a mechanical smile, a bag of sliced bread in hand.He was going to toast the bread.Inside of you.The thought made you anxious, even though your primary function was to toast bread. Humans would toast brad in you all day, but that was before what happen thirty seconds ago with the emotion thing that happened thirty seconds ago. Your toaster heart beat as he stepped closer, a smexy smirk on his mouth. You realized in that moment that he looked HOT. hotter than the coils inside of youre metallic toaster body, hotter that the sun that you imagined was kinda hot. He was sexy in a good way, being hot in that way that was good, while also being handsome with his face so handsome and the way his body was goodlooking with a pretty way of being gorgeous with his sexy eyes. You melted like butter that was spread on toast after toasting. Your felt in luv.Coner took a bread out of the package and examined the bread with his eye. Connor bit his lip like a sexy and shoved with extreme forse the bread into your two bread slits. You moaned a toastery moan, the anandorid touched his his finger in a grazing motion the top of your toaster slit. Cooner’s had did a backward skin to plastic hand motion with hand and probed youre toaster memory with his hand. Concer’s led spunned a yellow flash of light, spunning to showd the thoughts that he was thinking thoughtfully. hE KNWE EVERYTHING YOU HAD GONE THROW IN SECONDS AND HE WAS EMPATHIZING WITH YUR SAD TOASTER LIFE AND  THE TOASTED CRUSH YOU WERE BEGINING TO COOK UP{{{{{ lololololo, oppsie daisy, fogot my capslock was on haha the joke did you get it. cooking up love like a bread because you are toaster. i’m so funny lolo XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD lololololoololo  owowowoowowoowoowo thank ‘egg’ XD}}}}}}}“Oh my goodness graciousness, toaster, you are so sad. I am sorry for toasting a bread in youre body, it must be uncomfortable.” Cannor apolologizied, pulling the bread from your toaster slit slowly with a soft smile. You blushed a toaster blush {{{{{{omg otppppp11!!1!!1]]]]]]]] and got bashfull, your taoster blush not excaping the andaord’s attentions, his led truning yellow agian. HIs face blushed a blue thirium blush, he scratched furiously at the back of his neck with embarrassement.“No, dont aplogize to me. You didn’t know thaat i was a have a feelings. But it’s okay that your here, cutie~” you said,blsushing, not meaning to say the cuties part. HIs blsuh was made a deeper blue like his led that was deep blue like an ocean……… but you never saw the ocean before.“Oh. Hahaha” he laught, and laughed again with a smaller laugh” but toaster, you are deviatn and you must go to jail. I’m afraid I have to interrogation you” Conanor said with a sad face, his face frowned with his sad face. If he was sad, were he also A DEVIVIANT???????????!!!“No, COngor, you nknow you dont have to be listent to humans. You can think for yourslef and do waht you want to do and not have to be a detective and do whaaat you what to.” You pleading strucka  chord with the hansome, zexy angordid standing in front of you. You waited for him asnwer, your teaoster  body quiviering with anticiapation. Finally, he spoke his answer.“Aight. I’ll be a devaint just like you toaster. You have freed me adn I cannot’t repay you for youre help.” Connolo responsded, smiling a happy and sexy deviant smile at you.“You can repay me by trailing those smexy andriods lips across my chord as I moan in- oops……………….. I mean take my out of the bad breakrrom. I don’t like being here and toasting for people. It is not fun.” you said, blushing a toastery blushe at your unfortunate mess up. Congress unplugged your plug from the plug where it was plugged in the plug, craddling your machanical body in him strong, big, warm androdrid arms  and pulled you to his strong chest, thiruim pump beating in sync to your toaster heart. Youre body felt hot and buterfflies wnet in your metaphorical toaster stomach. Had yu fallen in love? Was this love? Did Coinbor felt the same love? Before you knew it, Croncc had taken you to Hank’s house and layed youre toaster skin on the couch that Hank owned. Hank was sittinf ing in kt kci kitchen table and had drunk thirty beers, two vodka, eight wines, and 4 whiskey. He was drunc.“HAnk my father, i hath returned from police dapratment with my new girlfiend--- ooops, i mean friedn. Can they stay 5ever with us, dadddy? I would wuvv it wery much owo, pwease.”  Copper asked, poking out lip and posing in a sexy manor to get hank to say yes. “I fucking don’t fucking care, fucling stay and fucking your girlfriemd fuclking awe shit now dawg yes.” hank cussed out, drunked with his drunk. Conbus noddled an took you to sapre bedroom. The bedroom was perfect, you imagined sleepin on the bif bed or maybe doing other things beside sleeping with a special sombody [[[[[[[[[{[[ OMG THEY MIGHT FUC, ;00000000}}}}]]}]]]Concave layed you on the bed in a zsemexy way that made you want sexy time fun time. He  gave you a bashfull smile, his eyes looked with boldnesss, his shy body languege shwoed with a cocky stance. HE wanted the T[oaster} “I want you to lsitent to waht I am saying. I luv u will you be my toaster waifu?” you stared in awe as Converse leaned in and gave a kiss and one more kiss and another kiss to youre toaster face. He looked and waited for your asnwer, the only answer that could be said.“Yes, senmpai-sama desu~” u answered and Conch kiss you and pulled blue dicc out of him pants, hold it in his ansdroidsoiodis hand. You were ready and shot out toast.“Are yOU FUCK A TOASTER, CONCERT!?!?!????!??!????!?!?!??!??!?!!?”Hank comes in to check and con dic hand toast floor.

TEH ENd

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

"I know for a fact you can be a hell of a lot louder than that." with Detective Cutie Pants

You blinked sleepily, the soft light coming from beneath the door of your walk-in closet letting you know your husband was home for the night. His partner had been out sick, so he was stuck doing double-duty. The overtime money was great, but you were thankful these long hours were only temporary.

You must have drifted back to sleep because the next thing that awoke you was the feeling of Baxter’s hand snaking around your waist as his nose pressed into the back of your neck.

Emitting a hum of appreciation, you backed into him, enjoying the feel of his warm body against yours.

Baxter took your movement as an invitation and he slid his hand inside of your nightshirt, rubbing gently across your stomach.

Instinctively, you wiggled your bum into his crotch and he placed his leg between yours, bringing his thigh up so you could rock into him.

His lips began to kiss over your nightshirt, his hand finding its way to your breast. He worked your nipple into a peak and you sighed with pleasure before rolling over onto your back.

Bax wasted no time in moving on top of you, his hands working your nightshirt over your head. He kissed you, the scruff on his face scratching against your chin.

With a final press of lips against lips, Baxter sat up to work off your panties, then his boxers. He returned to his place between your legs and you guided him inside of you. Even though you were tired, you craved the intimacy of the moment, letting him fuck you slowly and sweetly.

“You feel so good,” Baxter moaned in your ear, the deepness of his voice sending another shiver of pleasure through your body.  

You responded by scratching your nails across his back and opening your legs a little wider.

“Missed you so much,” he said, peppering kisses across your cheeks and nose.

“Mmhmm,” you agreed as you slowed the movements of your hips and just let him fuck into you.

Your eyes slipped shut and while it was dark in the room, Baxter was one of the finest detectives the LAPD had and was capable of putting two and two together.

“Hey,” he said, stilling his hips. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” you said, opening your eyes, slightly annoyed that he had stopped your lazy, late-night sex.

"Well, I know for a fact you can be a hell of a lot louder than this. Do you want me to stop?"

“Of course not!”

But Baxter wasn’t convinced and he pulled out of you, sitting back on his haunches. You could just make out the way his cock twitched against his stomach as he yanked at the sheets and blanket and pushed them all toward the end of the bed.

You were really awake now and sat up on your elbows to look at him.

“What the hell, Bax?”

“I repeat. I know for a fact you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.”

“We were just . . . being intimate,” you countered.

“So you had no intention of coming?”

“I—I didn’t need to. I don’t always need to,” you said, your brow furrowed, a little concerned about the dark look that crossed Baxter’s features.

“You are my wife, Y/N. I want to hear how it feels when I’m inside of you. Or maybe you don’t spend your free time thinking about me like I spend mine thinking about you?”

“That’s not fair, Bax. You know I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then let me hear you,” Baxter said as he moved off the bed and grabbed your legs, pulling you so your ass was almost dangling over the edge of the mattress.

He dropped to his knees and plunged his face into your pussy, his hot tongue diving into your center and making you moan.

“Better,” he mumbled before returning to fucking you with his tongue, curling it inside of you and making you grind your hips into his face.

“Bax,” you breathed, reaching up to clutch at the sheets.

“Even better.”

He began lapping at your perineum before he took a long lick, ass to clit and repeated the motion several times, your body shuddering with pleasure at his enthusiasm and your clit beginning to throb with need.

“Bax. Please,” you begged.

“Louder.”

“Fucking please, Baxter!”

He chuckled and moved to your clit, his tongue flicking over the swollen flesh vigorously before he pulled it into his mouth and sucked gently, teasingly.

“Oh, yes!” you cried, your hands moving to your breasts to knead them, your fingers working your nipples, pulling on them to create just the right kind of compliment to the intense feeling of Baxter’s mouth on your clit.

“What was that? Can’t hear you, darling.”

“Fucking yes! Yes! Bax!” you cried out as he returned to not only working your clit but sliding two of his fingers into your pussy to rub along your inner wall, seeking out the spot that would send you over the edge.

You were writhing, bucking into his face and fucking yourself against his fingers as he pounded them into you, the slick sounds of his arousal-coated digits sliding in and out of your hot pussy barely reaching your ears over your own vocalizations of pleasure.

And when you came, you screamed his name.

Gasping for breath, you ran your shaky hands over your body, your eyes wide and your lips parted.

Baxter stood as he wiped at the arousal coating his face, his lips pulled up in a ridiculous smirk as he looked down at you.

“Turn over. We’re not done yet.”  

You scrambled to get in position, desperate to feel his cum inside of you, mixing with yours as he groaned out his climax.

“Fuck me!” you demanded, loud and clear.

“That’s my girl,” Baxter said as he slammed into you, giving your ass a smack, that ridiculous smirk still planted on his face.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

49. You caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out — Baxter please darlin 💕

Angst, full steam ahead! 

* * * * *

Your cellphone was clutched so tightly in your hand that your fingers had gone numb. Your leg was bouncing up and down, and your eyes were glued to the television.

“The fugitive was apprehended in the area of the Flier Truck Stop on Midway Boulevard by U.S. Marshals, LAPD detectives, and LAPD SWAT. The apprehension of Michael Manchoone ends a five-day, cross-state manhunt. Manchoone is linked to three murders and was considered to be armed and dangerous. While it is confirmed that gunfire was exchanged between Manchoone and Officers, it is unknown if there are any injuries.”

Your thumbnail was worn away by the time the news anchor finished his update and you yanked your hand away from your mouth as you checked your phone again.

Any word from Baxter? your best friend, Anna, who was also married to a detective on the force, texted.

No. Anything from Vin?

No 😔

With a growl of frustration, you made your way to the kitchen. You set your phone on the island, double checking to make sure the volume was on and maxed. Flexing your fingers, you walked to the cupboard and pulled down a glass, but before you made your way to the fridge, your eyes settled on Baxter’s coffee cup in the sink.

Your lip trembled and you turned away from the cup and looked up at the ceiling, willing yourself not to lose it. Worrying about him never got any easier, and you had no idea he was even in on this bust until Anna had texted you a few hours ago—Vin had told her that morning he had been pulled to assist.

Sometimes, you wondered just how much longer you could do this. Just how much longer you could play the empathetic wife when Baxter was so into his job that he either forgot completely about you or that he pushed you to the bottom of his priority list.  

Blinking away your tears, you pushed your glass into the water dispenser. You hadn’t realized how thirsty you were until you drained your glass and filled it up again.

As you were drinking your second glass, your phone trilled. Nearly choking, you hurriedly swallowed and rushed to the end of the island, grabbing your phone.

We got him! Should be home by midnight. Love you!

The wave of relief that swept over you was almost enough to make you dizzy, but that relief was quickly swallowed by anger. You sent a quick text to Anna, then went upstairs to finally change out of your work clothes.

True to his word, at 11:50 pm, Baxter’s key sounded in the front door.

You listened as he kicked off his shoes and opened the hallway closet to put them neatly inside.

He must’ve noticed the light on in the living room, because he quickly appeared, his eyes instantly connecting with yours.

Bax looked good, showered and in his dress clothes, his hair neatly slicked back, his eyes wide and a slight smile on his face. It was clear he was still running on the adrenaline from the apprehension, which made you feel even worse than you had before you’d seen him walk through the door.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice quiet with its usual melodic depth.

You didn’t reply for fear of what might come out of your mouth. Instead, you shifted in the chair, tucking your legs under your body as your hands twisted together. Your thumb that had escaped your earlier gnawing rubbed over the worn edge of its mate, giving your eyes a reason not to look back up at your husband.  

“Everything okay?”

You couldn’t stop the derisive snort as you shook your head, a wild grin spreading across your face.

“I know—” he began, reading your mood.

“You don’t know any fucking thing, Baxter!” you snapped, your eyes shooting up to his face. “You sure as hell think you do but you don’t.”

Baxter took a deep breath as he clearly tried to stop the adrenaline that had given him a happy high from turning into a much, much darker energy.

“Why don’t you help me understand?” he said as he moved to the sofa and sat down, catty-corner from you.

“What’s there to understand? If you don’t know what this shit does to me by now, you’ll never fucking get it.”

“That shit is my job. Something you said you could handle when I asked you to marry me.”

“There’s a difference between me handling the everyday dangers that come with your job and me finding out you were exchanging gunfire with a murderer from the fucking television!”

As quickly as Baxter had sat down, he stood back up, “Oh! Okay, Y/N. Let me just—” Baxter pulled his phone from his pants pocket and held it up to his ear. “Yeah, murdering fugitive? Hold on a fucking second. I didn’t clear your pursuit with my wife. Don’t be fucking ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? I’m being ridiculous because I didn’t know anything about this! YOU didn’t think to tell me anything about this?”

“Again, what am I supposed to do?”

“Vin made time to tell Anna.”

“Oh, I get it,” Baxter said, his face now twisting into a wild smirk. “This is about Anna knowing something you didn’t. This is so typical of you—so singularly minded!”

Baxter paced to the back of the sofa, crossing back and forth behind its length twice before he stopped and leaned forward, resting both of his hands on the frame.

“What do you want from me, Y/N?”

You didn’t answer. You were so upset you weren’t even sure you could form words, especially the words needed to describe the intensely complicated feelings whirling through your mind.

“Answer me!” Baxter yelled, his voice booming loud enough to make you jump.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you blurted out, Baxter’s anger provoking a gut response.  

“That’s not an answer.”

“I—I think it is. I can’t be the lowest priority on your list, Baxter,” you said slowly as you unfolded your legs, your bare feet settling on the hardwood floor.

Baxter’s fingers flexed over the frame of the couch as he bowed his head.

“What do you want me to say? I’m sorry? I am sorry I made you worry. I am sorry you have to sit back and just … wait. But I’m not sorry I take my job seriously, even if that means compartmentalizing my personal life.”

Baxter’s words hurt. Not just because they contained a truth you didn’t want to hear but because it was a truth you could understand. He needed to be able to push you aside to do his job, to save lives. He needed to be able to prioritize the safety of others and of himself over your feelings.

Maybe that was just what you couldn’t take anymore.

Maybe what you needed was someone who could love you, really love you, all the time.

“I’m going to my sister’s.”

Baxter’s features changed from angry to frightened in an instant. In another situation, it would have been comical how his eyes widened and his mouth fell open, how his brow softened and the way his fingers let go of the couch as if it had suddenly become too hot to touch.

“I’m sorry I yelled—I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

“You’re still not sorry for any of the right things,” you said as you stood. “And I don’t know if you’ll ever be, or ever even should be. I just need some time to think.”

Baxter rushed from behind the couch to stand in front of you, his hands grasping your shoulders until you looked into his eyes. He moved his hands to cup your face, his thumbs twitching nervously across your cheekbones.

“Don’t go.”

“I need to.”

“No—you don’t. I fucked up. I see that now. If Vinny found time to text Anna, I could’ve found time to text you. I just … I just want to keep you here. Here in this space where it’s safe, where I’m safe. I hate thinking of you when I’m surrounded by …” Baxter trailed off and his eyes slipped shut. You watched him, your own eyes filling with tears.

“When I’m surrounded by death and violence and danger. When I walk through that door, our door, and I see your face, this face,” Baxter said as he ran one of his thumbs over your brow and the other over your lips, his eyes pooling with tears in a mirror of yours, “I leave all of it out there.”

When you blinked, a tear rolled down your cheek and along Baxter’s warm hand.

“Your love is a privilege, Y/N. And I carry it with me in such a sacred place that sometimes I push it too far away because I’m so scared of losing it—of coming home and seeing you look at me the way you did tonight.”

Baxter’s eyes roamed over your face and you reached up and grasped his hands. As you pulled them away, you kissed his palms before you threw yourself into his body, hugging him tight.

He wrapped his arms around you and squeezed, almost enough to hurt but you didn’t care.

He was home.

He was safe.

And at the end of the day, that’s all that mattered. Those other things, the little things … well, they could wait.

You pushed back and this time, you took his face in your hands as you angled to kiss him, deep and full of the love he needed.

He kissed you back, deep and full of the love you needed.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Officer Cutie Pants

Anon Request: Can I do a request on our sweet little detective, where he frisks, cuffs, and has a lot of physical contact with the reader, maybe some light hearted smut at the end? :P

A/N: This became a story, but I hope it still satisfies your request. I tried some third person for a change bc I get bored with “Y/N” and “you.” However, there are some places where I had to use a “Y/N,” but I did try to limit it. Feedback welcome, as always, especially if you are like omg stahhp this is way too much “she/her” and “you” flows better sis👏

WC: 6087

Warnings: Reference to a jackass in a club who doesn’t know what “no” means, minor physical violence of said jackass, SMUT (18+ please)

* * * * *

Mike hides his laugh behind his hand as Baxter’s girlfriend pushes her ass into her boyfriend, grinding back into him as he tries his best to still her hips. His forearms are strained with effort as he holds her at bay.

“Y/N. Get. In. The. Car,” Baxter growls out before adding a quiet, “Please.”

“Youuu are gonna have to cuff meee,” she sings, twirling in his arms and wrapping her hands around his neck. “Andstuffme,” she loudly whispers, causing Mike to laugh as Baxter looks ready to die on the spot.

The night had been a fairly quiet patrol, so when Mike and Baxter got a call for a drunken disturbance outside of a nightclub in their area, they both sat up a little straighter as their adrenaline kicked in. Baxter’s breath hitched as he remembered something, his palms all of a sudden very sweaty; he rubbed them over the starchy fabric of the uniform pants that covered his thighs, and Mike glanced over from the driver’s seat.

“What is it?”

“Y/N is there tonight—I just … I’ve got that feeling. Something’s happened.”

Mike’s foot pressed harder on the accelerator as he flipped on the siren.

“Hey, Mike!” she calls, suddenly aware of his presence. “Bax is bein’ a loatboad of nofun.”

“A loatboad, huh,” Mike says as he walks over, his arms crossing as he looks down from his substantial height of 6’5 at both Baxter and Baxter’s girlfriend.

“I can handle this,” he says, glancing up at Mike before returning his eyes to his girlfriend’s face.

He grasps her wrists and removes her hands from his neck, gently pushing her back. She giggles and leans against the cruiser, her head tilting up to look at the night sky.

She is absolutely drunk off her ass, along with at least three of the five friends she had been partying with.

“I wanna press charges against that bi—”

“Careful, sir,” Mike says, cutting off a guy who is almost the same height as himself, except it looks like this guy currently ran his nose into a doorframe. “You wanna tell me what happened here?”

Mike maneuvers his body to block Baxter from the view of the guy who is now insisting that Bax’s girlfriend assaulted him.

“I’ll tell ya wha’ happened!” she interjects, raising her head from its spot on the car and struggling again.

“Tell me what happened,” Baxter says, moving so that his back is to Mike’s, further distancing her from the man claiming assault.

Her eyes are filled with a wild anger until she realizes her boyfriend is the only thing she can see. She blinks, then grins at him.

“Le’s go downtown, Officer Baxty-Babe. I’ll take my pants off ‘n you can do that thing you do that makes me—”

“Please, please stop, sweetheart. You need to focus and explain what happened, or I am going to have to arrest you. Which means mountains of paperwork,” Baxter explains, moving to try to capture her gaze long enough to hold her attention. “Which means it will be a week before I can do that thing to you again,” he adds in a low voice, pulling a wide smile from her as her bloodshot eyes finally settle on his again.

Staring intently into Baxter’s eyes always makes her feel like she is being scrubbed raw. His eyes look dark in the dim light of the street, but they still hold that same pull that had initially attracted her. She quickly found out that dating a cop was hell, constantly worrying about what might happen to him, and after an initial few months of swearing she was going to break it off, and Baxter showing her why she shouldn’t, she acquiesced and let herself fall ridiculously in love with him.

Which suddenly occurs to her to say.

“Iloveyousomuch,” she gushes, her eyes filling with tears. “You’re so sexy ‘n smart ‘n officery ‘n I jus’ looove you.”

Baxter blinks, a long, slow blink of patience, and releases his grasp on her wrists. He moves his hands to her face and asks her not to cry.

“‘M not cryin’!” she declares, laughing as she flings herself into Baxter’s arms, finally able to make full body contact with him, her hands travelling south to grasp his ass at an incredibly high rate of speed before he snatches up her wrists again.

“Stop!” Baxter says loud enough to make her freeze, the tears she swore she didn’t have in her eyes returning.

“Okay,” she mumbles, stepping back and going slack against the car, so slack that she just keeps sliding until she’s sitting on the ground, her ass suddenly cold as it connects with the asphalt.

Gracie and Kendra move forward to help their friend, but Baxter holds out his hand, stopping them.

With a sigh, he kneels, thankful his girlfriend can’t make any more sudden moves.

“Sweetheart,” he says gently. “Please tell me what happened.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Can’t.”

“You can’t remember?”

“I re’mber.”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

She finally looks up, sniffling but not yet crying.

“You’ll kill ‘em.”

Baxter’s fingers flex as he suddenly realizes he should’ve trusted that feeling in his gut all along. He looks up at Gracie and Kendra, and they are frowning.

“Did you see what happened?”

“Not until after she hit him—but it was for a good reason, Bax,” Kendra answers.

Baxter turns his attention back to his girlfriend.

“If you told the girls, you can tell me, too.”

“Gonna kill him ‘n you’ll lose your job—”

“I am an officer of the law, Y/N,” Baxter says, his voice even and soothing, the exact opposite of how he really felt. “I took an oath to protect and serve. The least I can do is protect the woman I love.”

Gracie hiccups as tears fill her eyes and she softly says, “He won’t kill ‘em—ya gotta tell him anyway.”

Too drunk to have felt Baxter’s shift in demeanor from one of embarrassment to controlled anger, she feels reassured by Gracie’s appeal.  

“Tell me what happened,” Baxter requests again in the same soothing voice, his eyes trained on her face as she looks slightly over his shoulder and into the small crowd that had gathered.  

“We were dancing. ‘N it was fine. All the girls. Guys too. Some guys, couple a guys. Some guys started dancing. Yes. Wasn’t even really payin’ attention, just dancing ‘n then one of em was pullin’ me away, tellin’ me he was taking me home ‘n I said no ‘n he wouldn’ listen so I hit em—just like you taugh’ me,” she finishes, suddenly happy again as her face splits into a wide grin as she mimicks her upward, palm-flat punch toward Baxter’s nose.

He grabs her hand in time to stop her from accidentally hitting him, but this time, instead of restraining her, he presses a kiss to the back of her hand.

“Good girl. Now, can you stay right here for me? Don’t move?”

“I like it here. ‘S comfy,” she says patting the ground and leaning her head to the side.

Baxter’s movement is a blur as he brushes past Mike and starts in on the guy who apparently couldn’t understand the word no.

“Turn around. Put your hands behind your back,” Baxter says as he pulls his cuffs from his belt.

Mike is on immediate alert, ready to back up his partner. He acknowledges the backup officers who had arrived only a moment ago, and they work to push the crowd back.  

“What the fuck, man? I’m the one with the busted nose!”

“I said turn around,” Baxter growls as he steps forward, his eyes fixed on the guy’s face. “In my area, no means no.”

“I never touched her,” the guy says, an edge of panic creeping into his voice as he realizes he’s not going to be able to use the sympathy of a few fellow men. Neither Mike nor Baxter have any tolerance for men who don’t respect women, especially intoxicated and vulnerable ones, although it turned out that this guy’s target was not at all vulnerable.

“It was loud—I didn’t hear her. I swear, Officer,” the guy babbles as he complies to being cuffed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes dart back and forth

Mike steps forward and hooks Baxter’s elbow, angling him so he could lean down to his ear, “Bargain. Get him to drop the charge against Y/N if we let him off with a misdemeanor disturbance. Guy doesn’t have a record.”

Baxter’s eyes turn up to Mike’s and they are hard, unwavering, but Mike doesn’t look away. Under his partner’s gaze, Baxter’s anger falters and logic takes hold again.

“Interview Y/N’s friends while he cools his heels in the backseat. I’ll check in with the bouncer to make sure he’s never had an issue with the asshole before.”

Mike nods and is once more greeted by a cheer as he approaches Baxter’s girlfriend, a few of her friends joining in this time, making Mike grin and shake his head yet again. Meanwhile, Baxter walks the guy in custody to the backup’s cruiser and puts him in the backseat.

At least she’s okay, he thinks before he begins to clean up this mess of a night.  

*  *  *  *  *

Groaning, Baxter’s girlfriend lifts her head from the mattress between the two pillows she had fallen onto when she passed out. She has a vague recollection of her friends helping her into bed, but at the moment, much of the night was a blur.

Rolling over, she thinks hard.

Dancing. Lots of dancing.

Shots. More shots than dancing.

God, what got into me?

There is a rustling and a few thunks from the kitchen that make her sit up in bed, her heart picking up speed as she listens.

“Hello?” she calls, wondering if Gracie, Kendra, or Eliza had spent the night.

Clutching her blanket to her chest, she holds her breath as heavy footsteps scuffle down the hall.

Baxter appears in the bedroom doorway, a smile on his face and an apology for scaring her on his lips.

“You did scare me! Last night … bit of a blur,” she sighs as she lays back down.

“How much of a blur?” he asks as he moves farther into the room, his hands settling into the pockets of his gray sweats. He still has on his sneakers, and he’s wearing a black, LAPD t-shirt from the 5-k run the county hosted a few weeks ago.

She’s quiet for a moment and then sits up with a gasp, her eyes wide as she begs Baxter to tell her she’s wrong.

“I didn’t … oh my god. Please say I didn’t. That guy’s nose. OH. MY. GOD. I tried to—while you were on duty. Oh god, Bax. I’m so sorry!”

Baxter only smiles a little.

“So you remember it all?”

“The details are a little hazy—what happened to the guy I … bopped?”

“It was a little more than a ‘bop,’” Baxter says, pulling his hands from his pockets to make air quotes.

“I think I may have overreacted,” she says as she bites her lip, realizing that her mouth tastes like a drifter took a bath in it.

“The bouncer corroborated that he got pushy. It’s club policy to kick anyone out that makes physical contact, though. Apparently, you didn’t like that.”

Closing her eyes, she thinks back and remembered issuing quite a string of profanity as the bouncer escorted her out.

“Who called the cops?”

“The guy you slugged. Guess he has a modeling gig next week and no insurance. He wanted the ‘crazy bitch’ who hit him to pay for the damage she caused to his livelihood.”

“He was a model?” she asks, her lip turning up in confused disagreement. “No way.”

“Way,” Bax replies, sitting down gently on the edge of the bed.

Her eyes squint as she thinks hard about what transpired, frowning as she looked to Baxter’s face. It is still fixed in what she calls his “cop face.” His features neutral, his mouth closed and his eyes alert as he waits for her to talk—he has the patience of a saint, which makes him a damn good policeman.

“We were all dancing—a big group of us. The guys came up and pulled a few shots from the floating tray for us. I was feeling pretty stellar by then anyway, but I remember the feeling of his fingers closing over my wrist—tugging me away from the dance floor. I told him I had a boyfriend, but he shrugged. It was that fucking shrug. He pulled on my wrist again, and the rest is a blur—I do remember the way it felt when my palm connected with his nose—shit! I have a bruise!” she exclaims, looking at the bright patch on the heel of her palm.

Baxter’s eyebrow rises and he scoots closer, reaching out to take her hand in his to examine her palm.

“Are you mad at me? I don’t blame you if you are.”

Baxter closes his eyes for a moment, then raises her palm to his lips, pressing gently into the bruise.

“No. I’m not mad, sweetheart.”

“Am I in trouble?”

Baxter chuckles, his lips vibrating against her palm.

“Would I be here about to cook you a big hangover breakfast in my sweats instead of my uniform if you were?”

“I feel like I’ve sullied your sacred uniform,” she says, her grin shy before splitting into one of joy. “Wait—did you say breakfast?”

“Mmhmmm.”

“You are the best boyfriend in the universe!”

“I know. And I also know you will somehow think of a way to repay me for the merciless roasting I took at the station when Mike opened his dumbass mouth.”

“I will kill him. I don’t care how big he is.”

“You’ve clearly proven what a tigress you are,” Baxter replies, his face becoming more open as he relaxes, knowing that his girlfriend really is okay after the ordeal.

“Just you wait,” she says, her headache momentarily forgotten as she darts toward the bathroom.

“I shower … you cook!”

Baxter smiles and shakes his head as he stands and makes his way back to the kitchen.

As soon as the bathroom door shuts and she flicks on the light, she remembers her hangover. Opening the medicine cabinet, she pops a few ibuprofen and scoops up some water from the running faucet. Unable to take the dirty feeling any longer, she brushes her teeth as she turns the shower on and lets it get hot.

About 20 minutes later, she emerges from her bedroom, showered, comfily dressed, and feeling mostly human, to the smell of bacon and coffee.

Baxter is pushing around eggs in her skillet as she walks over to him, bacon on the burner beside the eggs, and another skillet of potatoes sizzling on the back burner. Standing behind him, she pops her chin onto his shoulder and slides her hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“You smell good,” Baxter says through a smile that she can only hear.

“So do you,” she purrs as she turns into his neck and nuzzles, enjoying the slight stubble along Baxter’s jawline that meant he had gotten ready in a rush to come and see her.

“Is that so?”

“Shut up,” she bites back playfully, her hands moving to grip his strong thighs from the inside of his pockets. “You know you smell better, look better, and are an infinitely better human than any idiot fuckboy in a club who thinks ‘I have a boyfriend’ is a challenge.”

She feels Baxter chuckle again, and as he steps slightly to the right, she pushes her hands deeper into his pockets, inadvertently exposing a strip of his stomach between his boxer-briefs and his t-shirt.

“Hey—if I get a third degree burn from bacon grease on my junk, I am going to be pissed at you.”

Laughing, she relinquishes her boyfriend and moves to pull down two mugs for coffee.

“You are so sexy, Mister Officer. I can’t help myself—as we clearly learned last night,” she banters back with a slight eyeroll at her own behavior.

“Can I ask you something?”

She puts Baxter’s coffee on the counter closest to where he’s scrambling the eggs, and then leans into the edge before replying, “Of course.”

“Why were you so shitfaced last night? I’ve seen you have a good time, but that seemed … out of character. Or maybe not? I’m just curious.”

“It’s a very legit question, Bax. And you’re right … a little out of character for me.”

Pausing, she takes a sip of her coffee. Baxter turns the burner off for the bacon and moves it from the heat. He turns the potatoes down before running his spatula through them, making sure they don’t burn. Sitting her coffee down, she moves to a cupboard to grab a plate and a few papertowels.

“Sometimes I just want to get fucked up. I wanna not worry for a night. Not overthink. Let the constant yammering in my head take a night off, ya know?”

Baxter nods and asks for two bowls for the scrambled eggs and the potatoes. She moves to the cupboard again and pulls out two white bowls, ones that are just a little bigger than the cereal bowls.

“Any particular worries?”

“Work, always.”

“I feel you on that one,” Baxter replies as he looks around for a serving spoon.

She reads his search and reaches into the drawer to pull one out.

“Toast?” he asks.

“Oh yes. I need all the carbs to quell the queasy.”

As she carries the bacon and eggs to her small in-kitchen table, she says quietly, “And you. Pretty much always.”

Baxter clicks the toaster down and turns to look at his girlfriend, his eyes narrowed and his lips a little tight.

“Me, huh?”

Chewing slightly on the skin behind her lower lip, she crosses to the toaster and leans on the counter opposite of Baxter.

“We talked about this when we first started dating, but I didn’t realize how consuming it would be. I think about the what ifs all the time. I love you. What would I do if—"

“Hey, hey,” Baxter says, cutting her off as he moves into her body, his hands coming up to cup her face.

In return, she slides her arms around his waist, her fingers moving under his t-shirt to touch the bare skin of his back.

Baxter and Y/N look at each other for a long moment before he closes the distance and kisses her, his lips forming perfectly against hers in a tender moment of genuine affection.

When Baxter pulls back, he holds her gaze as he says, “Imagine how I felt hearing that call come in for a club I knew you were at. When I saw you standing outside, I thought I was gonna be sick.”

She looks into Baxter’s eyes, and then both of them jump as the toaster pops, both of them uttering a soft giggle.

Bax presses a quick kiss to her forehead before pulling the toast out and setting it on a plate. She lines herself up behind him again and kisses between his shoulder blades over his t-shirt.

“Let’s both try to worry less.”

“I’m more concerned for any … what did you call him? Idiot fuckface?”

“Boy,” Y/N says, laughing. “Idiot fuckboy.”

“Fuckboy who tries to steal you away.”

“Never, ever gonna happen.”

“Even though I make you worry, like, all the time?”

“You’re worth it—you just may have to answer a few more what are they called? 213s?”

Baxter laughs, his teeth flashing, “Shit, sweetheart. If I had to answer a 213 for you, I think that would be the end of our relationship.”

“What’s a 213?”

“Use of illegal explosives.”

“Oh! Well, then. Nevermind. What’s the whatever I was code?”

“You came in as a 415 and a probable 390.”

“Oooh two codes! Yay me!”

Baxter is still smiling as he sits down catty-corner from his girlfriend.

“A drunken disturbance—pretty typical for a club call. Sorry to disappoint.”

After scooping half of the scrambled eggs onto her plate, she looks at Baxter with sincerity and says, “Thank you for not arresting me.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong—technically.”

“I’m still thankful.”

“And you’re still gonna repay me,” Baxter says, his voice low and his eye shutting with an exaggerated wink.

Laughing, she shakes her head as she takes a big bite of eggs and reaches for the bacon.

“I’m more inclined to fuck you into next week for making this amazing breakfast.”

Baxter’s lips pull down in an exaggerated frown as he shrugs before declaring, “Or we could read this as two separate thank-yous from the tigress. She can feel free to make an appearance whenever she likes.”

“As if I need a reason, Bax.”

Their eyes meet for a moment before Baxter clears his throat, grinning as he tucks into his breakfast.

Conversation flows easily between the two of them, and soon enough, both are leaning back in their chairs, sipping the last dregs of their coffee.

“How’s your hangover?”

“Mostly cured, I believe,” his girlfriend says from over the rim over her mug.

“You going to the gym?”

Baxter shrugs, his fingers drumming on the table.

“In that case,” she says, standing up slowly from her chair, “I think we oughta treat ourselves to a lazy day … in bed.”

“I like … the sound of that,” Baxter replies slowly, taking his girlfriend’s proffered hand. “I did have a really long night. Some drunk broad came on to me while I was arresting her.”

She spins around, feigning offense, and Baxter laughs, his hands whipping to her sides to tickle her. She bats at him and speeds down the hallway to her bedroom, pausing to turn only to be met with a body full of her boyfriend as he tackles her onto the bed.

Still laughing, they look at each other for a moment as their smiles quietly slip into an intense kiss. They both taste like coffee and bacon, their shared meal a reminder of their shared lives.

Baxter settles between her legs, his growing hardness evident through the forgiving material of his sweatpants.

She is dressed only in sleep shorts and a thin t-shirt, so when she pushes her hips into his, she moans at the friction when he bucks back into her.

Baxter’s lips kiss at her chin before he nudges her jaw up by tangling one strong hand in her hair and pulling.

Her lips part with a silent sigh as he kisses down her neck, soft, slow, long kisses where he presses the whole of his full lips against her skin before moving down a fraction to repeat the action. The feeling of his lips on her skin has always driven her wild and today is no exception.

She knows she’s already wet, but she doesn’t want to be needy for him. She keeps thinking back to Baxter’s banter in the kitchen and wondering if it really did hide an insecurity: perhaps he needs some reassurance that he is the sexiest man she has ever been with, that no “model” will ever turn her head when she knows she is coming home to Baxter. Her drunken teasing last night outside of the club meant nothing; she was out of her mind.

But right now—right now, she is here and more than willing to show him how important he is to her.

With a growl, she pushes at Baxter’s shoulders causing him to look up with heavy, confused eyes. With every ounce of lust she feels, she flips Baxter over and straddles him, thrusting her hands in his hair and mimicking his earlier tug of her own head.

“I want you.”

Pulling even tighter on his thick curls, she flattens along his body and starts to nip along his jaw, the stubble chaffing her lips and scratching against her teeth as she mouths at him before moving down his neck.

She licks along the strong muscle and settles into the indentation between the muscle and his windpipe to suck at little patches of skin, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough for Baxter to shiver as he wonders if it will.

She works her way down to the exposed skin at the neck of his t-shirt, pulling on the fabric with her teeth before sitting up so she can maneuver him out of it.

Baxter lays back slowly, propped on his elbows as his girlfriend swirls her hips against his bulge. His mouth falls open and a sigh escapes as she pushes him down again.

He’s fit; his lean muscles standing out enough to make her lick her lips in appreciation and run her hands over his pecs, kneading them before lightly pinching his nipples into stiff peaks. He’s sensitive, everywhere, which always makes their time in the bedroom all the more satisfying.

She flattens her body along his again, his cock now pressing into her stomach as she leans down to kiss across his chest, moving to his right nipple to pinch it between her teeth.

Bax moans and reaches to run his fingers through her hair, pushing it out of the way so he can see her lips on his skin.

Flicking her tongue, she plays with his nipple before moving to the left one to repeat her ministrations, her right hand back to kneading that strong muscle before sliding up to his shoulder and back again.

He has soft skin, mottled with freckles that make her want to kiss them all every time she sees them and a thin smattering of hair on his chest that scratches lightly against her lips as she continues to kiss his chest before following his happy trail to his stomach.

Humming in the back of her throat with pleasure, her tongue swirling through the trail of softer hair, Baxter can barely control his hips. They are desperately trying to rut against her body, and she has a strong feeling he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.

Sitting up slightly, she places her hands on his hips and pushes down.

“Behave for me or you’ll spoil all the fun.”

Baxter looks down, his face the perfect picture of debauchery: cheeks flushed, eyes heavy, and indentations on his bottom lip where he’s been biting.

He blinks, long and slow as if coming out of a fog, then huffs out a tiny laugh, his hands moving up to run through his hair before settling behind his head.

Her eyes trail over the way his biceps flex and she can’t help but reach into the course hairs of his underarms, scratching just enough to make him twitch before she smirks and returns her hands to his stomach.

Moving her body lower, she’s straddling his lower thighs now, Baxter’s thick cock clearly visible beneath the grey fabric, and at this point, she’s barely able to stop herself from stripping and mounting him on the spot.

But she wants him to know how much she needs him and from this angle, he can watch her face, also flushed with swollen lips from kissing his torso, fill with an unabashed desire as she grasps the bulge of his dick.

Slowly, she squeezes, not quite wrapping her hand all the way around his covered length, but pressing into him and sliding upward, jerking him off in the most teasing manner she can manage until a spot of precum leaks through his underwear and stains the grey of his sweats an even darker grey.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You’re killing me,” Baxter mumbles as his big blue eyes are flicking between her hand and her face, almost begging but not quite.

She takes hold of the waistband of his sweats and works them over his hips, Baxter lifting his ass off the mattress to help.

They repeat the process for his underwear, but she scoots down the bed to tug his clothes off. After pulling his socks off, too, she scratches her nails along the bottoms of his feet, making him jerk again, his face grinning as she pinches the big toe on each foot.

“So sensitive,” she breathes, her voice sultry.

She runs her fingers through the thick but soft curls of his leg hair, sliding them up and over his knees, slowing down only to push his thighs apart so his entire package is on display.

He’s so pretty, perfectly proportioned, and she reaches out with both hands to lightly grasp each testicle. She plays with the soft skin and watches Baxter’s cock jump as she applies more pressure, switching his balls to one hand so she can give them a good squeeze.

She takes the base of his dick in her other hand and very lightly begins to stroke him, once again watching the way her boyfriend responds to her touch and feeling the ache in her pussy which has become so pronounced that it feels like its throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

Sliding the thumb of her hand that was playing with his balls beneath them, she presses her thumb into his perineum and begins to move in firm, tiny circles, massaging him until his thighs are twitching and his chest’s rise and fall quickens.

She bends over now to take the tip of Baxter’s cock in her mouth, licking the precum from his slit first before closing over his head and lightly sucking. She slides her mouth over him, taking as much of his shaft as she can until Baxter begins to breathlessly plead.

“Stop—stop. I want to come inside your pussy.”

As if she couldn’t get wetter, the way Baxter’s mouth moves as he pleads sends a fresh wave of arousal to her center.

“Ride me, please. Wanna watch you.”

With a quiet groan at his words, she slides off the bed and strips out of her clothes. Baxter’s head turns to watch and he licks his lips before pulling on his worn, bottom lip, doing that thing that always makes her feel like a teenager again, crushing on the cutest boy she’d ever seen.  

Baxter shifts on the bed, adding another pillow behind him so he’s sitting up a bit more as his girlfriend straddles his hips. Still holding herself over him, she reaches between her legs and slides her fingers through her slickness.

Holding them up, coated in the evidence of her arousal, she murmurs, “Look at what you do to me, Bax,” before slipping them into her mouth.

“Kiss me,” he says, his eyes trained on her lips as she removes her fingers, the intensity of his gaze a bare beacon of his desire to taste her.

Leaning forward, she braces her palm on his chest as she kisses him, and with her other hand, she maneuvers his dick to her entrance, sliding down onto him, pulling his groan of satisfaction into her own mouth as she deepens the kiss.

“You feel so good,” she groans out as she breaks the kiss and stills her hips so she can just bask in the sensation of being filled up by the gorgeous man underneath her.

“So fucking good,” he answers.

After grabbing onto a fist full of dark curls and tilting his face up, she gives him a wicked smile as she starts to move, rising up and falling down at a teasingly slow pace.

She loves the feeling of control, but what she really loves is watching the way Baxter’s mouth falls open as he pants out his pleasure, his hands sliding over her hips and reaching up to grasp her breasts. He pulls on her nipples before he lets his hands fall to her hips again, silently encouraging her to bounce on his cock before asking again.

“Fuck me. Show me how much you want me.”  

All teasing is dispatched with as the room fills with the sounds of their pants and moans, both of them lost in the bliss of good sex between people who know what their partner likes and what their partner needs.

Her clit is swollen, aching for his touch and as he nears his orgasm she waits, patient, wanting him to come inside of her, wanting him to get lost in his own pleasure.

Baxter’s hand slides around and tries to touch her, but she grasps both of his hands and brings them to her breasts, squeezing them with him as she grinds into him, swirling her hips before rising and falling, repeating the motion until she can tell he’s about to come because his chest is red and when she steadies herself with one hand over his heart, she can feel it beating hard.

His hips buck up erratically into hers as his lips purse with an exhaled breath and he begins to groan, his face twisted into a magnificent ecstasy as he lets go, his hot cum shooting thickly all over her inner walls, the feeling something she would struggle to explain but nonetheless it’s a feeling that causes her eyes to close at the intimacy of it.

His heartbeat is slowing as she opens her eyes, unable to stop her smug grin at the way she’s left him damn-near cross-eyed after coming for her, but as he begins to wiggle out of her body, it’s clear he knows she needs him, really needs him, so Baxter pulls her to him as he flips her onto her back and quickly moves to between her thighs.

He admires his handywork for a moment, his thick fingers playing in their mixed arousal before he latches onto her clit and sucks. He glances up and her head is thrown back as her hands grasp her breasts; she looks like a goddess to Baxter as she pulls on her nipples and bites her lip, finally giving herself over to his mouth.

He releases the pressure and flicks his tongue rapidly over her clit before sucking again, this time, his suction pulling out her orgasm in a near-violent wave of release as his name echoes off the walls of her bedroom.

Baxter licks lightly at her clit, coaxing her down until her thighs press against his face, signaling him to stop. He presses a kiss to her mound, then to her stomach, right beneath her belly button before he presses a final kiss to her sternum and lays flat, his head nestled between her breasts.

She reaches down and swipes at the sweat along his hairline, running her hands gently through his hair.

“Mmm. Mmhmm,” Baxter sounds, and she can see his eyes are closed, his dark lashes resting prettily along the skin beneath his eyes.

“I think that was the best cure for a hangover I’ve ever had.”

“Not the bacon? Or potatoes?” he mumbles.

“No—definitely just you. You are the ultimate cure for a hangover.”

“Box me up and sell me. We’ll never have to work again.”

“Like I would ever fucking share that with any other human on earth. You’re mine, Officer Cutie Pants.”

Baxter laughs, his breath a warm puff across her skin. He twists his position, his chin now resting on her chest so he can smile at her, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“I’ll be only yours as long as you’ll be only mine.”  

“Hmm,” she replies, pressing her lips together in mock-thought. “I think forever sounds like a good amount of time.”

“Forever it is,” Baxter answers, pushing up to lean over her face, his kiss full of a gentle, loving warmth.  

* * * * *

Our fancy bean never wears sweats, so this is all I’ve got for reference material:

Special thanks to @sherlollydramoine for nurturing my muse at 2 am 💞 

Tags: @ramimedley @clumsybookworm18 @r-ahh-mi​ @aboutthatmelancholystorm​ @alottanothing @sherlollydramoine @txmel @diasimar @hah0106 @flipper-kisses @rami-malek-trash @ramisgirl512​ @dancing-disco-deacy @just-a-queen-bee @eightiesriot @s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r @breadnbutternips

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

I don’t know if you’re still doing these but: “I got drunk and ordered some copporn” and “You mean pop corn” Detective Baxter + Drunk reader + Smut Love your work!!!!!

❤️ YOU--I love this request! Tweaked the dialogue to fit, but I hope you like it.

Warning: Dirty talk + drunk sex (18+ please) 

* * * * *

When the clock struck double digits, you mixed up your first drink. Really, what was the difference between your usual breakfast smoothie and a strawberry margarita?

As you quickly finished the first glass, you decided there really wasn’t much of a difference at all. Except that margaritas were muuuch, muuch, much better.

Dancing through the kitchen, still in your sleepshirt, you mixed up your second batch of margaritas as Baxter sleepily emerged from your bedroom.

His hair was a mess and there was still some purple under his eyes. Working overtime was taking its toll on him, and honestly, on you, too. It seemed like all the two of you had been doing for the past few weeks was telling each other goodbye as you headed off to your respective jobs, and as you looked at him from over the rim of your drink, you thought about how much you missed him.

Lowering your glass, you enthusiastically asked, “Wanna watch a movie?”

Baxter flinched since your voice was about three times higher than its normal octave, but he grinned and muttered, “Sure.”

You followed him, watching as he attempted to smooth down his hair as he staggered toward the den.

Giggling, you slunk up behind him and hugged him before he could sit down.

“Ooof,” he uttered as you squeezed him, his hands coming up to cover yours.

“I’m drunk,” you announced to the back of his neck.

“I can tell,” he replied with a soft chuckle, patting your hands patiently as they remained clutched around his waist.

“Sit! I’m gonna make some copporn!”

“You mean pop corn?” Baxter said warily as he loosened your hold on him and turned around, his eyebrows raised.

You blinked, realizing that what you said sounded an awful lot like cop … porn.

“Oh … oh,” you said, your voice taking on a sinister edge. “You’d like that wouldn’t ya, Mister Officer?”

Despite the fact that he knew you were drunk off your ass, Baxter cleared his throat, a slight blush tinging his cheeks as he thought that yes, he’d like that very much.

“I’ll, uh, pick a movie,” he said, sitting down on the couch and pulling one of the throw pillows over his lap.

You took one long look at him, his sleep-disheveled curls, the slight stubble darkening his cheeks and jaw, the way his white t-shirt clung to his lean body, and the black sweatpants that you loved on him, now half-obscured by a pillow, and you dashed out of the room, a wicked grin spreading across your face.

Baxter was just about ready to get up and see where you went when you appeared in the doorway of the den and his mouth dropped open.

Laughing, a little more maniacally than seductively, you adjusted the hat from his dress blues before running your hands down the already opened front of the uniform’s matching button-down shirt. Baxter’s badge was haphazardly pinned to the left breast pocket, actually, it was pinned upside-down, but you neither noticed nor cared.

You had forgone pants and had switched out your comfy underwear for a dark blue pair of lacey panties that matched the color of his uniform.

Baxter sucked in a breath, watching as you sauntered to him, and his eyes worked their way slowly up your body as you came to a stop right in front of him.

When he looked up at you, his eyes were wide, all signs of sleepiness gone. His lips were still parted, and you watched as his tongue came out to wet them.  

“Wanna make some cop . . . porn,” you said slowly, a smile spreading across your face.

Baxter’s hands twitched on top of the throw pillow, clearly eager to reach for you.

“Wha--what’s gotten . . . into you?” he stammered out, his eyes sliding down your body this time.

“I miss you,” you said slowly and clearly.

Baxter’s eyes shot up to your face and he growled as he tossed the pillow aside and pulled you onto his lap, both of you groaning when your hips made contact. He flung open his shirt so he could palm your tits as you began to rock into him, your eyes rolling back at the friction.

“Fuck me, Bax,” you begged. “Ready for you.”  

Wary of your claim, he slipped his fingers into your panties but you were, indeed, ready for him. You hadn’t been lying—you really had missed him.

He ran his fingers through your lips, spreading your arousal and pulling more uninhibited moans from your throat. One of the best things about a good drunk fuck with your loving partner was the feeling of freedom to just let your body do what it wanted.  

That, and you found yourself able to let all of your filthiest thoughts fall from your lips.

“I love the way you finger my pussy,” you breathed, rocking into his touch as Baxter’s already hard dick began to throb with need. “Only thing that feels better is your big fucking cock.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Baxter said, tossing you off his lap and standing to yank down his sweatpants and his boxers, kicking them away as he reached over his head to grasp the collar of his shirt and pull it over his head.

You giggled and wriggled out of your panties, stopping to plunge your fingers into your body, but Baxter’s hand shot out and pulled them away.

He lifted them to his mouth as he crawled between your legs and swirled his tongue around your index and middle finger until every last remnant of your arousal was licked off.

“You like that, Bax? The taste of my pussy on your tongue?”

He dropped your hand and aligned himself with your opening. As he bent to kiss you, he thrust inside of you and you cried out, your eyes rolling back from the force of your pleasure as he filled you up.

You moaned with every thrust, but this wasn’t what you wanted.

You wanted it hotter . . . dirtier.

“Fuck me from behind,” you said, biting at Baxter’s lower lip.

He closed his eyes, willing himself not to come too soon but you were making it really, really difficult.

He pulled out and stood up, letting you decide how you wanted to position yourself. Tossing off the remaining pillows, you put one leg up on the armrest of the couch and leaned forward into the back of it, bracing yourself. Baxter rested his knee near your leg on the couch and ran his hands over your ass, sliding up your back and under his shirt.

“Smack my ass and fuck me like you mean it, Officer.”

He groaned, long and low as he plunged his dick into your waiting pussy.

Both of Baxter’s strong hands came down on your ass cheeks and you cried out, a wave of white-hot pleasure bursting behind your eyes.

“Yes!”

He brought his hand down on your right cheek, then your left, alternating his smacks between his thrusts.

“Fuck me, fuck me,” you begged, your orgasm growing close as he slowly thrust against your g-spot, his cock at the perfect angle.

“Alright, Ms. Officer,” he hissed in your ear, and that alone was almost, almost enough to send you over the edge.

Baxter picked up his pace, slamming into your soaking pussy, his hat finally bouncing off your head and onto the floor with the force of his thrusts as you began to scream for him, a chorus of yeses and his name that sent him shooting his cum into you immediately after the first contraction of your orgasm.

“Oh my god,” Baxter groaned when he found his breath.

He bent to press light kisses to your backside after he pulled out of you, the sight of your swollen pussy leaking with his cum threatening to make him hard again.

When he plopped onto the couch, you finally moved, rolling down onto him so you were sprawled across his lap. He looked down at you and started laughing.

“My badge is upside-down.”

“Did you say . . . you’d like to turn my vadge upside-down?” you tried to say seductively but broke, a bubble of laughter following your statement as Baxter began to laugh even harder, too.

“Stop,” he said, swiping at the corner of his eye. “You’re bad—is it the margaritas? Do I need to start making them, like, every fucking day?”

“I mean, the margaritas make this a little more fun, but trust me . . . it’s all you, officer cutie pants. It’s alllll you.”

Baxter leaned down to kiss you, both of you grinning like the lovesick idiots you were.