#dishes go in the sink to soak

[chthonicathenean]

Way too much nuance for any of these answers! I answered "in the sink" because generally yes but it depends on the type and size of the "dish" in question as well as how much it needs to be soaked before washing.

as a society i dont think we talk enough about the culture clash between ‘dirty dishes go beside the sink’ and ‘dirty dishes go in the sink’ people also here is a poll about it. you can put your rationale in tags i guess

[screamingay]

somehow these current roommates we have are the worst that ive known yet and last semester we literally had a girl who smoked cigs IN her bedroom. list of grievances below lol

[mildmayfoxe]

i walked into the kitchen this morning & the entire counter and everything on it was soaking wet because since i was sleeping none of the other THREE awake adults in this house are apparently capable of having the foresight to check to see if water is coming into an open window when it rains

[moechies]

kinktober ⋆౨ৎ entry #1 ; cockwarming w toji fushiguro .ᐟ

dear diary ♡,

a couple days ago, mister toji taught me how to 'cockwarm.' it's where i simply sit on his . . . cock, and warm him up -- he says. i was so nervous ! he is so big , and i thought it was going to hurt tons ! it burned a little , but felt so much better after settling a little. mister toji was touching me so softly all over, calling me sweet things, and even played with my tail! i'm so embarrassed -- i must've been blushing so much! i think i may ask him to do it again today , i hope he doesn't get angry . . . i love mister toji so so sooooooo much ! ♡

“c—can we do it when you’re done?”

“what?”

he can tell by the way you’re fidgeting and your ears are twitching— you need something. you pinch at the skin of your thigh, nervous with little courage as you ask.

“the— the thing you taught me. last week. the warming one?” you quip, tugging on toji’s shirt as he finishes up cleaning the dishes in the sink.

“oh.. y’want my fat dick in y’r lil bunny pussy is what ‘m hearing, is that right ?” he emphasizes on dick. he’s so blunt, and it makes you want to crawl and hide. he turns to you with a checkered apron hanging onto his neck, hand leaning against the sink. his smug smile spreads across his face, seeming to enjoy the way you grow flustered.

you whine at his choice of words, thighs rubbing against eachother with need. he acts as if he doesn’t see you writhing besides him, your arm purposefully pressed against your chest to suppress your sore tits.

he can practically smell the sweet slick spilling from your pussy bunny, smearing over the crotch of your panties.

toji briefly tugs at the string that holds the back of his apron together, swiftly pulling it over his head before tossing the piece of fabric onto the dining table. he steps forward, figure pressed against yours and you unconsciously stumble back. he makes you so weak.

“uh huh—“ you’re about to beg again, but he’s quick to scoop you up by your legs, hoisting you up into his arms. you yelp, but make no effort to get away — instead, nuzzling your face closer into the crevice his neck, dizzy at the detected mixed scent of his woody colonge and tart sweat.

he chuckles when you huff at the intial drop of your body onto the matress of your shared room, your plush body sinking into the pillowy sheets. your legs part naturally, taking up your invitation and having him slot himself right where you need him most. his broad shoulders press up against your plush thighs, spreading them further than before.

“bad bunny. y’know you can’t just have cock in ya twenty-four seven, right?” his left pointer finger tugs your flimsy shorts aside, and right thumb presses against the soaked patch of your cunt. you mewl under his touch, soft pads of your feet coming up to press him away. you gently shove at his bicep, but he barely moves. he knows you don’t want him to move anyway. “‘m n—not a bad bunny!”

“you are.”

“n—not, ‘m not mister!”

“hmm, i dunno about that.” he hums, pressing against your clothed clit. “are ya ever not in heat?"

"sir, please, n’more questions!" you whine in fustration, yelping when his pointer and thumb meanly pinches at your swollen bud. your eyes bulb with tears, meeting his that suddenly glare so meanly in comparison to his often soft, emerald ones.

"do you know who you're talking to?" toji growls, squishing the chub of your folds together, the slight simulation to your clit making you flinch.

"y—yes, sir. but please . . . mister, need you here, need your cock here!" you whine, ears sullied and pointed low. your hand moves his to take ahold of his finger, pressing it against your aching slit.

"there there . . ." he coos, thumb sliding over your clothed slit but paying it no attention. he presses a warm kiss on the soddened fabric, low lidded eyes and a smug grin that meet yours when he does. you're adorable like this — absolutely worked up and so terribly desperate; it's his favorite version of you.

"m—mister," you stammer,

"c'mere doll." he sits up against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap. you yelp when you feel the chub of his cock pressing against your folds, grinding down senselessly. toji laughs, getting a hold of your bicep to halt your hips movements. "don't be so greedy, bun."

"hnn—" you whine, tail thumping against his thigh. you slowly tug down his sweats, ears perking up when you realize the missing piece of fabric below — he's not wearing boxers!

he notices the way your eyes light up, cheeks begin to flush, and your expression grows brighter than before — you're one step closer to where you need to be. he almost hates the adorable expression sprawled across your face, chuckling when you look up to him with big-doed eyes searching for a green light.

you salivate when you tug the sweats just low enough, his cock slaps against his stomach. he scoffs, watching his cock leak against his soft skin. he’s getting old.

“inside now— mister—“ you pant, drool spilling at the corners of your mouth. you whine again, hands weakly tugging aside your shorts along with your panties, and aligning his cock head with your fat slit. “mister . . .” you whine, hinting for help.

“y’can do it.” toji grunts, placing a hand onto your plush hip. “ mmh, you got it.”

maybe you don’t ‘got it,’ because it burns so terribly when your folds swallow his cock!

“m—mister, mister !” you whine, quickly pulling yourself off his bulbous tip at the initial burn. he watches your slick stretch from your wet slit to his cock head, making him groan.

“calm down . . y’r rushin,’” he readjusts you, pulling your quivering hips close before you’re hovering over his cock again with small tears. “my bunny can’t do it herself, can’t she? whatta dumb lil’ thing.” toji chuckles, “there there.” he whispers with a sultry voice, making your cunt quiver around nothing.

you whine when you feel him tug down at your hips, whining when his hot tip presses against your slit once again — your slits kissing.

“big sir, s—so big,” you whine, a stutter in your voice from the stretch down low.

“slow down, hurts ‘cause you’re rushin.’ see?” he coos, lifting and lowering your hips over and over, fucking you on his tip. no — you don’t see because you’re awfully lightheaded, hands weakly stabilizing yourself above him but little do you know it’s solely his support keeping you up.

your cunt squelches with each and every single movement, a low ‘pop’ that elicits from your pussy whenever he moves you. “good girl. you can take it, am i ever wrong?”

“i—i can, can take it . . .” you slur, head fluffy and hands weak against his pelvis. “good girl. now sit.”

he grunts, pulling your hips down suddenly all the way, your cunt kissing on his dewy balls. “fuck, damn it.” toji groans — you cry at the stretch, cunt sore and raw when he grinds you down further than possible. “m—mister !”

he chuckles again, breath labored as he pushes the loose strands of his hair back. “worst part’s over, doll.” toji presses down at your arch to lay you against him. he can still feel your body twitching from hiccups of your previous fit — poor bunny. “i—it is . . “ you hiccup. he pets at your soft ear that trails down to your waist, giving your plush skin a soft pinch with a hum. “mister . . feels good . .” you purr, tail twitching incessantly again.

“course it does.”

[theresascove]

like animals ₊ ⊹

ellie williams x f!reader

you’re ovulating and your partner—Ellie—is looking a little too good

tw: PURE FILTH, not proofread, farmer!ellie, established relationship (gf or married, I imagined married), ellie can carry reader, e can hold onto r’s hair, needy reader, multiple rounds of sex, strap described as Ellie’s dick, strap sucking (e receiving), strap (r receiving), oral (r&e receiving), fingering (e&r receiving), muscle kink, degrading, making out, grinding, spit kink, this is straight up filth yall im not fucking joking

wc ✎ 2.5k

It seeps into your system, spreading quickly when that time arises. It makes you feel hot, insatiable. The feeling erases most common sense and fills it instead with a need. Essentially you act as if you’re in heat.

The moment you knew that time had crept up on you was when you were washing a few dishes in the sink and caught Ellie talking to your neighbor. The sun, the golden rays had been placed just ever so perfectly to shape out her muscles—her tattoo. The one that was shining with your wetness just a day ago?

She was keeping a conversation going between the two of them whilst picking up and moving these bails of hay. Safe to say the water ran over your still fingers as you eyed her, checking her out.

Started with her arms before it switched over to her back. There were times when she was working in the heat of the day, so she’d remove her top shirt while cooling off. You met her on the porch, handing her a glass of tea and checking in on her. That’s when you noticed her fingers. The length, veins, the way she held onto the glass. Truth be told, you barely heard a thing she said.

Walking down the steps? Your eyes were hooked on her back as she put her shirt back on. The thoughts were getting increasingly intense with each passing minute. Just before her shirt completely slipped over her back—covering it—you noticed the light scars on her skin. The little scars you planted there after a session not too long ago. Fuck you needed her. Ellie had reached the bottom step when you finally found your voice.

“Els—?”

She hums, turning around and getting rightfully spooked at how close you covered the space between you two. You made it to the bottom of the steps, pulling on her jean loop to kiss her. She’s a bit taken aback but ultimately ends up kissing back—bringing a hand to cup your cheek. Your heart skips when you feel her hand slide down your body, holding and gripping onto your waist.

“Mm was that all you needed?”

You should say yes. Yes, you’re done, nothing else, continue working—

“No,” you grip onto her like she’ll leave, “no, Ellie I need more.”

You’re so blessed when you feel her silly grin, it makes you giddy inside. A laugh breaking from you when she holds under your thighs and carries you back inside—pushing you against the wall. Since waking up with a fuzzy mind already, all this making out did was send you into outer space. Something Ellie loves to talk about when you sit out on the porch at night, looking at the stars.

“Please,” you beg, voice whiny, “please Ellie, don’t tease.”

She had her lips on your neck, engaging in your usual foreplay. It was absolutely maddening, you wanted her fingers in you now—not whatever this was. Usually it’s nice, but now it’s frustrating you.

You grip her hand that was placed on your hip, pulling it down to your already dripping cunt.

Usually you’d never do this, but this time it’s different. You’re drunk in your own lust.

Ellie catches on quickly, pulling your garments off and hiking one thigh over her hip—spreading you out for her. She drags her fingers up your heat and chokes on a moan.

“Shit you’re soaked, like—holy shit.”

You loose your mind when she pushes a finger though. Nails dig into her shoulder and your lips are dropped open in a shaky gasp. Her fingers, her lips, her sweaty hair and skin, her arms, her thighs, the way the pants sit on her waist, her ass, her voice—everything about her was turning you on.

You came embarrassingly quick. Might’ve been a new record. The moment your eyes opened this morning you felt as if you were already on edge, rubbing your thighs together to try and get some of the edge off. But you should’ve known nothing would except her.

She laughed a little, drawing her fingers out and wiping them on her pants.

“Love you,” she mumbles, pressing a kiss to your lips and wondering back out onto the porch—leaving you panting against the wall.

Little did she know that didn’t sedate you, it only fueled the fire.

You met her in the barn later, catching her when she was staring to feed the horses. The way she had you this morning had crept up when she came into view and reminded you yet again of how attractive she was.

“Do we need more horse feed soon? Looks like we just have two barrels left.”

She looks back at you, momentarily stopping her scoop of the feed, “yeah sounds good. I can put the order in tonight.”

“I can do it, it’s no problem.”

She stood full height, looking to you with a bit of confusion in her eyes, “why’re you out here?”

To see you.

“Doing an inventory check.”

She hummed, moving along to feed your third horse. You stood there, shoulder leaned against the barn wall—eyeing her move around and do the chores you’re very similar with. She noticed, eyes changing in color after a bit when she realized the intent.

She tossed the scoop back into the barrel before her hands pulled your hips towards hers as she leaned in for a quick kiss. She had an arrogant smile, one that made you feel things. You reached a hand into her hair, pulling her back down for a kiss after a kiss after a kiss.

Next thing you knew you were being pushed back into the small tack room, shoved back against the table. She had you sat up on the table, legs wrapped around her shoulders as she ate you out. Your sounds filled the room, reaching her ears and transforming into a melody so beautiful it made Ellie’s throb. She moaned herself from your sounds and the way you tasted on her tongue.

You could almost cry, it felt amazing. It was like rain on a hot day, cooling you off from the warm that filled you. She’s holding your legs wide, arms wrapped around them so you can’t close them on her head. And fuck it’s driving you crazy, because any jolt of your hips has her muscles flexing.

“Els—“ you gasp, eyes dazed, “please.”

She had her eyes locked onto yours, her pupils blown wide just like yours. Only took another movement and you were coming on her tongue, head falling onto the wall behind you. It feels good, it always feels good—but now, each orgasm has increased tenfold. She stands to her full height, bringing a hand through her hair to brush it back and out of her face before reaching to help you. It was like it was practiced—long fingers gripping your chin, tipping it back so she could kiss you and let her spit (with the taste of you) fall onto your tongue.

You stand on wobbily legs, mind running around from the enactments just before. She had you wrap your arms around her shoulders as she sets your clothes back on straight—sharing kisses in between.

“Mm, my lips are all swollen now—“ you complain, but despite that you’re leaning back in for another kiss.

“You can tell me to stop,” she says, voice rasping near your ear.

You should. It was only noon. The last thing this farm and the both of you needed was the two of you going at it once again. The absolute last thing needed was you finding another way to meet her in the middle of a task to distract her. Nobody needed it, and yet it happened again.

You had met her near the house, seeing her talk to someone she’s introduced you to and yet you’ve forgotten the name. He’s an older man, near his 70s. Faintly you recall Joel, Ellie’s sort of father figure, introducing him to you as well. Due to the missing name, you gave him a polite smile instead and asked how his day was going. He was on his way eventually, hopping back in his truck and driving off.

“What did he need?”

She waves it off, resting her hands on her hips, “nothing, what’d you need?”

It had happened all too quick and before either of you could fully grasp it you had her spread beneath you, hot moans escaping her from the way you had her writing in pleasure. It flowed almost naturally. Just bringing her down with you when you reached the house. It was near her office, just outside the door.

Her leg was hiked up, giving you room to lick her all over and to easily move your fingers into her cunt. She was just as drenched as you were earlier, the sessions you shared only teasing her—so now it was your chance to give back. You needed her. Each time she made you come, she was up and out the door immediately after. Now, you were going to make her stay, she couldn’t wiggle herself out.

A hand was gripping your hair, pulling you into her—while the other was draped over her face. Her skin was flush, hot to the touch and tan from the sun. Some areas were tan, her farmers tan was quite obvious. She felt like she was on cloud nine in many ways. The way you looked beneath her—eyebrows furrowed and moaning against her, red lips, watching you pump your fingers into her—it drove her insane. Her hands gripped you tighter, force put into it this time.

“S-shit, come on,” she says, voice scratchy, “you can do it better, I know you can. Fucking come on.”

You tried, genuinely feeling like you weren’t doing something—but whatever you did, it broke her over the edge. She came with a loud, stretched out cry—hips pushing against your tongue and fingers.

“O-oh, fuck. Fuckfuck, so good.”

It sedated you enough. The post-orgasm would help you feel relief. Any pent up energy, the type that ran through you like molten lava at just the sight of her, would decrease. Not vanish entirely, but a good chunk of it would decrease.

The reason why it didn’t vanish entirely is because just as you were making dinner, Ellie—fresh out of the shower—had come to wrap her hands around you from behind. Kisses were placed down your neck, moving to bite as she then pressed her hips into you.

“Feel that,” she asks with a teasing grin.

You hum, moving your head so she can kiss you on your neck some more. It’s embarrassing how quickly you get turned on yet again. You’ve come two times from her and leaned down under her to make her come a total of one time as well. You should stop, but yet again she found a way onto you this time—and who were you to stop it. You never wanted the feeling to stop.

The feeling of her skin on yours is intoxicating, and the first time you felt it today. Her tits on yours, her hair brushing your forehead, her thighs brushing yours. Her smell too, brought you to feel all the more bothered. She smelled heavenly, in many ways. The way she smells right out of a shower is the best moments. You genuinely look forward to it as if hinted at the beginning of the soft section of the day.

Usually, anyways.

“Deeper, come on.”

Her fingers, the one you’ve been eyeing all day, were gripping your hair—forcing you to take her strap deeper. You had beautiful unsheathed tears in your eyes, looking like diamonds with how you were looking up at her—the lamp lights reflecting off of them.

You’ve been gagging, nails gripping into her thighs—and she hasn’t let up. Knowing you’re enjoying it if the slick dripping onto the floor wasn’t a sign enough. She lets you lead it for a second, vision dark and full of lust as she watches you bob your head on her length.

“Yeah—yeah, just like that,” she says with a tone that makes you squirm, “suck my dick.”

And you do, until it’s covered in your saliva—enough for her to slam you onto the kitchen table. Your chest is pushed against the cold wood—making your nipples stand to their full attention. She grinds her length over your underwear, slipping it and letting it get caught touching your clit. It was all purposeful, she wanted you to beg for her—act like you’re in heat.

You do, no shock. Hips grind back on hers, tears in your cheeks as you try and hint.

“Shh, no crying, tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,”you whisper, voice cracking, “please Els.”

She slides your under garnet to the side with her thumb, before pushing through. Your bottom lip drops open in a prolonged silent gasp. It stings so good, spreading you wide and open. It does something to your mind when she leans back and it pulls you back with her. Ellie groans softly from that, just from seeing how tight you are.

“Damn,” she drags her fingers around your entrance, “so fucking tight even though I’ve fucked you senseless just the other night.”

You nod, pushing back, “please Ellie, please fuck me I can’t—I need you, please!”

She finally does, settling a rough pace from the start. It shoves your thighs against the table side, and they act like a barrier. With it keeping your hips steady and set against a line—it makes her thrust all the more powerful. Your nails dig lines into the wood, tearing it up as you cry.

It’s so good. So good you can barely care to try and think about anything. The water bill, the burnt food—nothing. Nothing but her. It was so good.

From her side, you were laid out in front of her like a buffet on the table. Your ass moving with each thrust, it was hypnotic. She couldn’t keep her eyes away. Close to that was your face, half turned and shoved against the table—body sliding with each quick thrust. You practically bawled when you came, her length being grounded against that spongy spot while her fingers worked circles around your clit.

You legitimately thought you saw stars, mind dizzy as you came down from your high. Ellie was panting behind you, a dork look on her face as she stares down at the way you still grind back on her—despite having just come.

“You can tell me to sto—“

“No!”

It was going to be a long night.

taglist — @picklesarenice69

[zwiebelii]

I have a flatmate whose room is right next to mine, and he's generally not a bad person but really really annoying as a flatmate because he's generally really not careful with anything. Like, he always slams his doors shut (even at night............) and managed to lose his keys within 2 weeks of living here, once almost turned on the washing machine at 11 pm (i held him back, since it's forbidden to use it after 10 pm according to the contract + we would have gotten in trouble with the neighbors), and left the air conditioning run at night at a lower temperature than allowed (to the point where we were all freezing).

All of this is a bit annoying, but kinda whatever

However, he also....... makes really weird noises??? Like the sort of noise you make when.... coughing up slime??? And also snorting???? idk it just sounds really really gross. When my boyfriend was visiting and heard them he called them "minecraft zombie noises" and honestly? that's a really accurate description. Also, he works from home, so every time i am here i get to hear that 🙃 But i also don't want to ask him about it bc it may be some medical thing, and also i am moving in another flat in 2 weeks anyways one of the reasons is that i find my flatmates annoying, oh well

the funny thing now is that he just put on some very very soft piano music, and tried singing to it, and honestly it would have been okay if he didn't interrupt it every 10 seconds with his "hrreghhrerhh" 😭😭😭

[chekovsphaser]

I know I make my own situation worse by not dealing with it every tie is comes up but Holy God it has taken me an HOUR to wash 5 plates a cup 7 bowls and some miscellaneous cutlery.

This is what happens when you don't wash dishes for over a months. Lot less maggots and need to throw entire containers out this time.... so improvement?

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine ex-husband Gojo doing things for his new love interests that you begged him for while you were married.

After a joint meeting between the sister schools, you overheard Suguru asking him who he was texting during the meeting.

Satoru replied, "Just letting my date know I'll be a bit late tonight since we ran long here. Todo can yap, huh?"

"Seriously!" Their voices faded as they walked down the hall.

You stood just outside the meeting room watching the corner the disappeared around. If you had to pinpoint the number one reason your marriage failed - more than clan pressure, more than the strain of being young parents, more than back to back to back missions - it would be the fact that Satoru can't communicate for shit.

Part of it wasn't his fault. His brain just didn't work like that. An inconvenient side effect of limitless is that everything makes sense in your head, but it's hard for a person with the gift to explain their thoughts to others.

So the no-call, no-shows to dinners was technically a side effect of limitless, as was his inability to articulate his feelings like an adult or the fact that he would just do things without even telling you there was a problem in the first place.

"Quit doing that with your face, brat." Sukuna emerges from the meeting room. He's out of his Ryomen form at the moment, as he usually is during meetings so that he can actually fit in his chair. "How long are you gonna let what he does affect you?"

"It doesn't!" you insist.

Sukuna rolls his eyes. "If that helps you sleep at night."

Imagine reminding yourself that you can't be mad at him.

You're seeing other people now, too. Hell, you've been divorced for over a decade, it's insanity that you care at all.

It's just. You never doubted his love for you. Not for a second, not even now that your marriage failed and you largely raised your son on your own.

"Mom?"

Maybe your divorce was his motivation to be better. You're not sure. But if he's capable of change, capable of being attentive and communicative, why couldn't he change for you all those years ago?

"Mom."

Could it be that you were his childhood companion and he loved you, but he was never in love with you? Was his love for you less than your love for him?

You hardly notice your son calling out to you until he springs into action. "Mom!" Sen nudges you away from the stove to turn of the burner. When did smoke fill the kitchen? The roux you were trying to make was burnt to a crisp, stuck to the pan and emanating an unpleasant smell.

Sen gently pries your hands off the handle and drops the ruined pan in the sink to soak. Then he makes sure the burner's off before turning to you with a conflicted expression.

He may have inherited a hybrid of both your and Satoru's personal brands of emotional stuntedness, but he could put two and two together between how distracted you've been and the rumors of Satoru dating again - What with it being huge news among jujutsu society (aka power hungry clans with eligible daughters.) Your son had his own complicated feelings regarding his father and as much as he'd prefer Satoru stay away from you, it hurt him to see you like this.

Though, watching you try to keep a stiff upper lip for his sake during the divorce is the reason he doesn't want his father anywhere near you.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." You wipe your hands on a dish towel. "I wasn't paying attention. Hang tight while I make you something else."

He could kill Satoru right now. But you wouldn't like that, so he won't.

"Mama, I--" He shuts his mouth. You've been protecting him from the details of the divorce his whole life. What did he know about comforting you? But while he may not have been able to protect you then, he can sure as hell try now.

"Mama, why don't I take you out to dinner? My treat."

Imagine that Sen decides he needs to stop having ideas.

He brought you to a local okonomiyaki that you've been going to since he was little to the point where the owners knew you well and liked to give you little extras from the kitchen. Today's treat was a side of pickled radish.

It was your happy little hideaway. Away from jujutsu and clans and curses and your broken home.

Sen insisted on cooking the okonomiyaki for you, saying that, "My treats means I'll take care of everything!" The weak smile you gave him made his heart soar.

You giggle while he jokes around and tells you about school like how Hikari fell asleep for 45 minutes out of an hour long test and still got a better score than him. Hearing about your son and his happy school days always made you feel better.

Sen was ready to give himself a pat on the back for cheering you up when he hears the front bell jungle and a woman's laughter carries over.

"Fancy places are like that, though!" the woman laughs. "They give a bite of food per plate."

Then a familiar voice replies, "Yeah, but it was good, wasn't it? And now we get to fill up at a cute place like this."

Even though he's the one facing the door and not you, the look on your face tells Sen all he needs to know. What breaks his heart is that you've sunk lower into your seat to make yourself smaller.

Sen could kill his father right now.

Hooray, angst!

Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[meowsogynist]

Happy mother's day to my mom, who finds a way to make me out to be the bad guy every single time without fail

[revasserium]

love bites

kenma, tsukki, kageyama, hinata; 2,025 words; fluff, slightly suggestive, mentions of hickies, no "y/n", fem!reader, whiney!kageyama, dom!hinata, tsukki being... tsukki, post timeskip!characters

summary: these hickeys like the remnants of our love, footsteps on the sea-soaked sand, a line of demarcation -- here is where our story begins.

a/n: i just rly wanted to write about hq! babes and hickies...

kenma.

the first time it happens, it’s a mistake — a brief moment of vindictiveness manifest in the way he whines and nuzzles into your neck before opening his mouth and sinking his teeth into your skin. when you gasp, your head tipping back, kenma pauses, pulling back, his mind already cataloging this very interesting new piece of information for later use, but his eyes have yet to catch up — his body has yet to catch up with the sight of you, cheeks pink, lips parted, eyes slightly glazed over as you stare ruefully up at him, a hand coming up to press over your mouth as you frown.

“w-what was that for?”

kenma hums, sitting back with a pout, “you were the one being unfair.”

you scowl, “how was i being unfair? you lost the game fair and square — the stakes were loser does the dishes.”

kenma sniffs, his nose crinkling at the thought, “but we have a dishwasher — it’s literally in the name —”

“but the nice wine glasses can’t be put through the dishwasher!”

you push yourself up onto your elbows even as kenma slumps back on the sofa, groaning loudly. still, he lets his head slump to one side to stare at the rapidly darkening patch of skin at the junction of your neck and shoulders. there’s something that feels dangerously like desire calcifying in the pit of his stomach and he weighs the pros and cons of leaning forward to give you another good bite.

really, dinner was great, dessert was better but — this.

suddenly, he understands what his teammates had always meant when they’d said they could keep on eating forever, even when their stomachs were full to bursting, even when they thought they’d be ill.

“stupid wine glasses…” he murmurs, leaning forward to prop his chin on your shoulder. you laugh, a soft, breathy thing as you reach out to tug a strand of hair from his low, messy bun.

“but the wine was good, no?”

kenma hums, letting his head loll back and forth, his eyes flickering down once more to the round ring of red now rising against your skin. he allows himself a tiny grin, leaning forward to press a kiss over the tender flesh. he makes note of the way you gasp, soft and expectant, the way your body seems to tense and then go laxed beneath his hands.

“yeah…” he whispers, smirking as he sinks delicate fingers into your hair, gently shifting your head to one side to allow him more access, “guess it was good…”

he presses another kiss to your neck, just slightly below the reddening hickey.

“g-guess? that was — a-an expensive bottle…”

“hmmm…” kenma trails his lips down over your shoulder, tugging lightly at your shirt, the wide collar falling away easily. when he finds yet another patch of unmarred skin, grazing his teeth over it, he feels the way you reach up to fist your fingers in his hair.

“’zume… don’t think you can get out of doing the dishes like this…”

kenma laughs, letting his breath puff out against your skin seconds before he opens his mouth and takes another soft bite. he doesn’t miss the way you whimper this time, doesn’t mistake the hitch in your breath for something like surprise when he knows better — and he knows you best of all.

“not trying to get out of doing it… just… we never specified when the loser has to do the dishes so…” he licks his lips, glancing up at you with a bright, devilish flicker behind his eyes, “i’m just taking my time with the meal. nothing wrong with that, right?”

tsukki.

it is a normal thing, for you to wake up in the morning and find remnants of the night before scattered across your skin like sand dollars littered upon a stretch of beloved beach. and tsukishima is never apologetic — ever.

if anything, he looks upon his work with pride, smirking as you tug at the collar of your shirt, tutting.

“tsukki… i told you not to bite so hard…”

“hmm… sorry, i must’ve forgotten,” he props a cheek on his hand, peering at you over his glasses, his tone the farthest thing from apologetic, “heat of the moment and all.”

you shoot him a reproachful look in the mirror and watch as his grin widens ever so slightly.

“the girls are the museum are gonna have a field day with this.”

tsukishima shrugs, slumping back into the bed with a loud, long sigh.

“dunno why girls have such a weird fixation on other people’s boyfriends. ‘s not like it’s any of their business.”

you tug listlessly at the collar of your button up shirt, resigned to the fact that you’ll never be able to hide the marks properly as you heave another sigh.

“it’s just how we communicate — it’s like… how guys sometimes just need to like… punch it out — or whatever.”

“or whatever?” tsukishima almost chortles, rolling over onto his stomach again. your schedules at the museum only overlap 2 days a week, and the rest of the days, either he’s off or you are. it’s a miracle the pair of you were able to meet in the first place, let alone hit it off like you did.

“yeah. i don’t know how guys communicate,” you say, even as tsukishima swings out of bed to come up behind you, looping his arms around your middle.

“we… don’t, really,” he admits, in a customary deadpan, propping his chin on the top of your head with obscene ease. you frown up at him, tilting your head back till it hits the middle of his chest.

“you’re gonna make me late again.”

“so?”

“so — unless you want me to get fired —”

“they’re not gonna fire you. you’re too good at… cataloging maps, or whatever it is you guys do in the cartography department.”

tsukishima spins you around his arms, pressing you lightly back against the mirror. he considers you for a moment, with eyes just sharp enough to pass for academic interest, but you see the darkness misting its depths, the pressure in his fingertips as he leans in to seal his lips over yours in a kiss that could only be called searing.

you break away gasping, only to feel his lips trail fire down your neck seconds before —

“t-tsukki — !”

he pulls back with a satisfied smirk; you can feel yet another bruise blooming along your skin.

“there. one more thing for you and your girlfriends to bond over, hm?”

kageyama.

it is a deliberate thing, the first time. but kageyama remembers the strange gravity, the tug just behind his navel, the persistent itch of curiosity as he leans forward to sink his teeth into your skin.

he likes the way you hiss, the way you go soft in his arms, the pair of you already a pile of tangled limbs on the massive sectional in the living room, the lights dimmed, half a bottle of red wine yet un-drunk on the coffee table.

“tobio… what —”

he hums, burying his face in your shoulder, fingers digging into your sides.

“… something i wanted to try…”

“hm?” you gently card your fingers through his hair, quirking your head to one side.

“it’s just —” he pulls back, a deep blush prickling his cheeks as he looks anywhere but at you, “something… i’ve wanted to try. for — a while,” he admits, looking shockingly small for a internationally renowned volleyball player, hunched over on the couch like this, his lips stained dark with wine.

you giggle, leaning up to tilt his chin back towards yours.

“sure. you can try whatever you want.”

you lay back, stretching out beneath him, pliant and willing, and kageyama goes still for a solid four seconds before he narrows his eyes, an un-namable hunger clawing at his insides as he pulls you beneath him and groans into your skin.

he likes the way the colors seep the surface of your skin, likes the way it’s so obvious against the bright of your collarbones. he spends all of the following day in an intoxicatingly good mood, to the point where his teammates are understandable suspicious. but he just tells them he slept well, that he had a good dinner last night, that wine was really, really delicious.

and that thanks for the recommendation.

hinata.

brazil has changed him, in more ways than you can count, but at the same time, in some ways, he is just, just the same.

“s-shou-you!”

“mmm —” he whines sucking a deep hickey into the junction of your neck, his pupils blown wide as he pulls back, lips split into a too-pleased grin, “what is it? did i hurt you?”

there’s the barest hint of a tease in his voice, and anyone else might’ve thought he’s completely serious, that he’s actually worried. and in a sense, he is — he’d never want to actually hurt you. but he also knows that — to a certain degree, you revel in this kind of pain.

you chew on your bottom lip, shaking your head.

“no… it’s — it’s okay.”

“yeah?” he sounds entirely too happy with himself as he reaches forward to thumb at the damp spot on your skin, “ah… that one’ll be pretty. just like you!”

he laughs, his joy so pure and infectious that it makes you blush. you look away.

“shou…?”

“hm? what is it, pretty girl?”

he bends back down to press a light kiss to your collarbone, peaking up at you with those would-be innocent eyes.

“don’t… don’t tease me.”

hinata laughs, that self-same, joyous sound.

“but i like teasing you!” he says, with no hint of malice, not a single sliver of shame.

you can only cover your eyes with your arm, turning your head away.

“aww, don’t do that —” he says, coaxing your hand away before pinning both of them above your head with a single, fluid move. your breath hitches.

“don’t hide from me…”

it’s too much to hope for that someone with eyes like his would miss such a thing. you watch as the dark, lightless centers of his eyes grow ever so slightly larger, threatening to overtake the honeyed ring of his actual iris.

“can’t… can’t help it…” you look away, feeling the waves of indomitable heat, wave after wave, washing through you, collecting at the base of your stomach to twist into something deeper, something harder.

“can’t help what, hm?” hinata laces your fingers with his; distinctly, you can feel his thighs flex on either side of your legs, locking you in place. the summers are hot in rio, but you can’t help but wonder if more than half the heat in the room might be coming from the pair of you alone.

all around him, the air wavers like a reflection in pond-water —

“shou… just —” you lick your lips.

“ah…” there’s a soft whine curling at the edge of his voice as he leans down, “you’re not playing fair at all…”

desire pulses like a heartbeat inside you.

“shouyou, please,” you beg, trying to wrest some semblance of control back from him but he’s having none of it. he pins your hands to either side of your head, his bed more than wide enough for the pair of you, with room to spare.

“mah… you gotta be a bit more specific than that,” he says, his voice almost casual as he noses into your pulse point right beneath your jaw. you hold your breath and a second later, the harsh sting of his teeth rakes through you, chasing pleasure down your spine.

“m-more —” you choke out the word against the heat of his lips and you feel rather than see him grin above you.

“yeah? i think i can do that for you.”

[bunnys-kisses]

mean, mean man

capt. john price

cw: smut/pwp, dom!price, mean!price, degrading, dumb!reader, sub!reader, tattooed!price, size difference/kink, fat cock!price, fingering, safe words/signs, dirty talk, pussy slapping, breast play, mating press, hot stuff inside (!!!)

bunny says: reblogs and comments are always appreciated, i love feedback!

price never considered himself a mean man, he didn't act with malice. and by god, he'd never hurt his woman. at least not in the aisles of a tesco or while you were at the art gallery together.

he'd hold doors open for you, hold your belongings while you went to the bathroom. he was your go-to when you had your period. he wasn't a mean man.

until he wasn't. price was far from abusive however, the idea of hurting his girl in such a horrible way made him sick. he worshiped his baby.

but john price was a mean dom.

he had come back from a week on base, and the first thing he needed was the sweet little thing he called a wife. you were so much smaller than him, one time you softly pressed your palm against his to compare sizes and he almost came in his pants.

he more often than not had your sticky lip gloss in his beard on around his cock, a ring of bubblegum flavouring.

he had been home for a few days and still he had not had his fill of you. in all fairness, in was an unquenchable thirst. the more he indulged in his sweet wife, the more he wanted.

you had brought him some dinner to eat in front of the television before the football game started. he noticed that you were in the cute little sundress he had bought you prior to his departure to base. he almost had to bite his fist at the sight of you.

"c'mere, love." he said in this thick accent of his, he spread his legs a little further. you could see the imprint of his heavy cock in his grey sweatpants. he gave his thigh a pat, "why don't cha sit down with your husband."

"i have to clean up." you said. it was a fruitless attempt to not have your husband bully his fingers or cock into you during dinner. but, in all fairness most of the dishes were already done. either soaking in the sink or in the dishwasher.

he gave his strong thigh another pat, "that's fine, love. i'll clean it after. you've done enough for me." then watched you with hungry eyes as you sat down in his lap. he could feel your ass up against his erect cock.

his dinner plate was on the side table next to the couch and price got a strong arm around your middle and pressed you to him as he started to eat at a weird angle.

his arms were covered in tattoos, since your marriage he had gone over what every one of them meant. from the small lock on his wrist to symbolize his time in his home town, to the 141 on the back of his neck as his team keeps his head on his shoulders, to the tiny tattoo on his ankle that had the numeral date of your wedding on it.

but the man was hairy and covered in ink, looked in such a stark contrast to you. he didn't think his girl needed tattoos, you were already perfect with your beauty marks and other lines on the skin. even the scar on your chin for an accident as a child was more beautiful than an inch of ink on his skin.

as he ate the beautiful meal you made him (meatloaf and mashed potatoes, a personal favourite), his hand dropped from your waist and got better your legs. he pushed the skirt of the sundress up and rubbed your puffy clit over your thin cotton panties.

he kept his eyes on the television as he felt you squirm against him. he chuckled to himself, but covered it with a small cough. he said idly, "easy there, beautiful. i'm eatin'."

he kept you pinned to him and you held onto his strong arm as he pulled your panties to the side and got two fingers in with ease. you feeling of them made you moan and you dug your sweet little nails into his forearm.

"what did i say?" he asked, "i told you be good." he pumped his fingers into you.

"john, please." you whimpered.

he continued to eat, even going as far as to feed you some of his dinner (as if you didn't have your own plate on the coffee table). patronizingly feeding you, as if he was the big strong provider for his tiny, fragile wife.

"eat up, girl." he said as he started to move his fingers faster, "gotta keep your strength. gotta keep that body healthy to give me babies." he chuckled, "make sure a good mum for my little brats." he could feel you getting wetter. he pressed the fork to your mouth and you slowly ate it.

your attention was split between the pleasure between your legs and trying to chew on meatloaf. your core throbbed. suddenly he pulled his fingers out and you whined like a whore.

he slapped your pussy and said in a stern tone, "i want a woman. not a dumb, cock hungry whore." price was rarely mean outside of your little 'playtime'. you knew after this he would be apologizing frantically.

"john." you whimpered.

he gave you pussy another hand slap and then grabbed your face. the smell of your pussy lingered on his fingers and your fresh wetness smeared across your cheek. he held you face close to him.

"you're a dumb little thing, love. a squirmy little worm that i gotta keep under my boot. but don't worry. i like 'em small, i like when its a struggle to get this fat cock into your little, sweet cunt." his words were like fire in your bloodstream. his lips were up against your cheek, nose pressed into your skin, "yeah, yeah. pretty fat tits, pouty lips, a cunt i can just slide into. i could probably turn a good profit on you, film me rearranging your insides and cum all over that pretty face. make you suck my cock after it fucked your sweet pussy."

you felt heat searing across your face and neck.

before you could get too lost in it, he asked, "who is the captain of the liverpool football club?"

"virgil van dijk."

"how many museums are in liverpool?"

"nine." then you tapped the back of his hand nine times. two safe guards before you played, one verbal, one physical.

price kissed you on the cheek with tenderness before his hand went away from your face and back between your legs. his voice was low once more as he said, "i love a girl who knows her rules. pretty things like you thrive off of 'em. havin' a big strong man make all the choices." he plunged both fingers back into your slick hole and kept you against him as he fingered you.

you held onto your husband's thick forearm and let him make a mess of your cunt with his thick, calloused fingers. his facial hair rubbed against your skin as he left hot kisses on the flesh.

"see, you know where your place is. so you found the biggest captain to sit your pretty little pussy on and flash those pretty tits to me. because you knew that i'd keep ya safe." his other hand grabbed your left breast and his grip made you whimper.

you held onto him and let him play with your pretty pussy. you whimpered and moaned into his neck as your breathing got heavier. you felt so wet between your legs.

"dumb little thing. i did the smart thing and put a rock on your finger and a nice little place to call home. you're a better housewife than anythin'. makin' sure your man is fed and taken care of. i have a feelin' if i didn't come in at the right time, you'd be a 141 cum dump. but i'm just too greedy for this pretty little pussy.' his panted against your skin, his own dirty talk was getting him riled up too, "they don't have the discipline to handle a thing like you." his other hand then pinched your nipples through your dress. he now noticed that you weren't wearing a bra underneath.

a hard tug on your nipple made you gasp.

he chuckled, "pathetic little thing." he took his fingers out and got a hold of you to bring to the bedroom. he wanted his cock and your sweet pussy was like the temptation of christ.

if he didn't like the dress so much on you, it would've torn it off your body at the seams. he did tap his foot as he watched you hastily take off the garment, leaving you in those cute (yet soaked) panties.

those price ripped off, but they came in a value pack at the store. nothing he couldn't replace. the garment tore away with a bit of form, but eventually they were a scrap of fabric on the floor.

that's what he liked, his naked little wife.

he was already leaking through his sweats when he got them off, followed by the british military t-shirt. he was soon naked as well, his cock stood at full attention. it was imposing and fat, with a leaky tip and heavy balls.

he man-handled you into a breeding press. you were at the edge of the bed with your ankles at your ears, glistening, shiny pretty pussy on display. he stood at the edge of the bed and made his cock known inside of you.

this was a personal favourite for him. knowing that his pink tip was nudged up against the beginning of your cervix, most likely bruising the hell out of it.

it was the closest a man could be with his wife. keeping her bent at angles to bully his fat cock into her.

"i've trained ya well, love.' he said, his accent thicker as lust swamped his brain, "remember when we met and i had to spend hours fingering you until you were able to take half of me. now i can be balls deep all i want. fittin' me like a glove. that's why i can't have ya runnin' around base. they'd catch the scent of your sweet pussy, so i had to cover it up with the scent of my cum. so they know who has staked claim." he held you by the thighs and thrusted into you.

it didn't take long for your head to become heavy with lust. you panted and moaned like a good little whore while your strong, hairy husband rammed his cock into you.

he watched those pretty tits bounce with each hard thrust, next time he was gonna slap them around until they got nice and bruised. bite your nipples until they were puffy, maybe he'd make you cum so hard you cried.

your tongue stuck out of your mouth a little as you gasped for air. your knees were in your lungs as he fucked the air out of you. you were bent in a way for his pleasure, but by god did it stir something in you.

big meanie john price. the one who pulled out the chair for you at the restaurant you both went to. the one who cooed at you when he went to get you a band-aid because you tripped in the garden and got a small scrape. now, his cock was spearing you in two while filth poured from his lips.

he thrusted into you and panted heavily cut between harsh groans, "fuckin' pretty thing. with your cute cunt and fat tits. soft in all the right places for a hard man like me. you take me so well, come such a long way. you knew if you couldn't fit my cock in you, i'd throw ya to the wolves. if i wanted that pussy stretched out, i'd give ya to my loyal dog. i think simon would do a number on ya, then you'd take me quite well." he was panting heavily, your pussy was a vice around him.

something flipped in your stomach as price went in for a searing kiss. you were both losing steam, the pleasure was climbing to heights that left you dizzy. you clutched onto his shoulders for some kind of leverage.

the slick sounds of sex were prominent in the bedroom, you came with ease. already overstimulated. you tried to kick out your legs as a response, but he had you so pinned down that you were trapped under him.

he panted harsh nothings to you, but they barely stuck in your brain. his cock continued to bully you until he shove it all the way to the root to spit out cum against your more intimate areas.

"jesus fuck." he groaned as he stopped. his mind flashed blank for a moment before he wiped the sweat off his forehead. he pulled out and grabbed you by the shoulder. he waited for any type of safe word or signal, but nothing came. so he forcefully dragged you up to where the pillows were and got you under the sheet.

"john."

"got ya."

you laid there next to him, price's cum stuck to your inner thigh as your breathing started to level out. you looked up at your husband and smiled. you felt the heat in your belly linger.

you knew your pussy was bruised, you knew tomorrow would be a bit of pain in the morning. but, by god did price know how to make you feel good.

he held you close to him, tattooed arm across your untouched back. he was satisfied in knowing that his woman was feeling good. he was also proud that his cum was being kept safe in your sweet, slick pussy.

"how ya feelin'?" he asked, but his eyes went wide as you shifted away from him. he watched you swing your leg onto the other side of him and straddle his waist. his blue eyes looked at your closely, "give me a number, love."

"seven." seven meant needy.

price smirked and grabbed you by the ass to rubbed his softening cock against your stomach and pussy. he nodded as his erection grew. his face was still hot as he said, "alright, slut. better make it worth my while. next time i'll take a few photos when i fucked ya out to send to the boys." then gave you round ass cheek and a good slap.

price was a good man, a good husband. but a mean, mean dom.

[lovifie]

Messy Eaters

Smut | 416 words | Masterlist

The 141 have to attend a gala dinner.

Really fancy, with lots of protocols, too many forks and too little time.

That's you give them a speed-up masterclass on etiquette.

With Gaz and Price, it goes by in a blur, both men are perfectly attentive, making sure to ask any question and thanking you once it is done.

With Ghost and Soap? You wish you could sink the fish fork in his eyes.

"Which one is for meat again?" "The one with two spikes"

"Which one do you use for chips?" "There won't be chips."

"What's this one for?" "That's a toothpick, you brought it here"

"Why are there so many glasses?" "For all the different drinks."

"Where is the pint glass?" "There are no pint glasses on this dinner."

"You seem stressed" "You reckon?"

It's not your fault that they are both such messy eaters, but deep down you love it.

Especially when they start to take turns to go down on you, the sloppiest head of your life.

They have you laid on your back, mock glasses and places thrown out of the way. Your legs on each side of his head, resting on his shoulders, while he sits on his chair eating your cunt like it was the main dish.

Slurping up your juices, face buried deep between your folds, the nose from the broken nose rubbing against your clit making your legs spasm as his hands grab your thighs keeping you in place.

He wishes he could hear your pretty moans if it wasn't for the mutt making out with you. You can't help but open your mouth when Simon's tongue moves deeper into your gummy walls, and Johnny dives into your mouth with his tongue.

Such a nasty and disgusting kiss that has your head feeling fuzzy, there is spit running down your cheek, his tongue deep I'm your mouth checking every single tooth on it, sucking your tongue onto his mouth, moaning into you as if he was the one getting head, his hand resting over your breast massaging it continuously like a machine.

You have lost count of how many times you have cum around Simon tongue, the little mat under your body soaked with your juices and saliva, and you think they will finally take pity on you. Until Simon pats your thigh before standing up, looking at Soap and motioning to the chair with his head.

"C'mon, Johnny. Your turn, we need to practice for the dinner."

[yanderefarm]

May I request just a short write of just randomly spanking ares randomly around the house or in public how he would react

ares on getting spanked

cw; suggestive

basically expect him to jump your bones. pinching his butt would also get basically the same results.

around the house

ares is a good housewife, he loves doing chores and taking care of the house for you. it's not odd to catch your beautiful wife bent over vacuuming or doing dishes. the way his pants cling to his pillowy ass is so so tempting.

one day while he's doing chores you find yourself too tempted. you're just trying to get something from the fridge and there's ares. bent over the sink with his chest soaked in soapy water and his shirt clinging to him so tight you can see the outline of his muscles. if that wasn't hot enough there's his pretty ass again moving slightly from side to side as he listens to music. you're staring for so long if that music wasn't distracting him he'd probably have asked what you need.

what you need is right there. you slap him right across the ass with a smack harder and louder than you intended. ares lets out an embarrassingly cute squeak, his entire face turning the color of his eyes. he looks back at you with his brows furrowed and a pout forming on his lips.

"y-you... that's not fair."

you should expect your soaking wet wife to jump you.

in public

ares loves to visit you at work. he likes pretending he doesn't know you when he comes in and then flirts with you. your coworkers hate it. so you told him to not do it everyday just whenever he's already out running errands. that almost turned into a fight. but you saved yourself by saying it might get you fired and then you couldn't take care of him. so he only comes twice a week.

today he's sat by the window with his shopping bags waiting for you to be less busy. he wants to show you everything he got you and it just can't wait!! as soon as you go over there he's immediately digging in the bag, doesn't even bother to order. he stands up to hold up a new shirt he got you, it says cutie pie. your coworker makes fake gagging sounds behind you. when you turn to stick your tongue out at them ares also turns to dig in his bag again.

there's his cute butt right in front of you again. you give him a light little smack.

he squeaks. of course he does. he's immediately red in the face and he doesn't even turn around to face you. you watch as your wife practically deflates back into his chair.

"sorry..." you rub the back of your head sheepishly and he just squeaks again in response.

you notice he moves the bag into his lap and begins clinging to it tightly.

"..... i can go on my 30 soon."

"please..."

[peachetteprice]

How it Should Be | Captain John Price

John, your husband of nine years - coming up on the big decade - who still grows pink in the face when you tap his arse and call him handsome.

He just can't quite believe it.

He knows he must be somewhat attractive because he landed you - and by God that was not an easy feat, concealing how ardently he pined for you in that dimly-lit Spoons in the centre of Hereford - despite how your brother, who joined you every time because it was the only way you could ever see John, and vice versa - had been his friend since John was twenty-five and your brother, twenty-two; he worked at the classic car garage in Leominster that John frequented to keep mint his Ford Cortina - but regardless of all of the strife he underwent to secure you as his beloved wife, he still finds himself biting back a form of childish embarrassment that forces his bottom lip between his teeth as you profess over a glass of wine just how gorgeous he is, right now, in his underwear, sipping that pitcher of beer because he ran out of Scotch.

In every other respect, he's the most stoic man you've ever met. But if you ever catch him in the kitchen, the bedroom, the bathroom, even outside in the garden and coo extravagantly about how stunning he looks, whether he be elbow-deep in grease doing the dishes, fixing his belt around his jeans early in the morning, grooming his beard before the mirror or de-weeding the patio outside, he will undoubtedly become bashful to the extent of personal ridicule, rolling his eyes or slamming his palm on the sink to exclaim that he is not, in fact, as 'beautiful' as you seem to think he is.

It's only partly a joke, but the majority of one of those parts leans towards the serious truth, which is most disconcerting, and half the reason why you spend so much of your precious time trying to convince him that he is, in fact, the most beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, handsome man you've ever laid eyes upon.

And, yes, you may be biased, because you get this one all to yourself, and no other woman can say they frequently bed a man who puts as much effort into pistoning his cock deep within you or tongueing you until you're bone-dry in thirty-Celsius weather as he does - even if the sweat on the bedsheets is beginning to pool at an alarming rate - simply because he wants you to feel loved, irreverent of his own comfort.

Oftentimes, as he is, said, knee-deep within you, you'll take him by the scalp and guide him to your neck, urging him to press his weight against you - exactly as you know he loves - just so you have him in lock and key, knowing he's unable to go anywhere until he cums, and you can - finally - whine into his neck about how handsome he is, and watch as he can do nothing but soak it in, too busy panting, grunting and blushing to respond. His face, his body, his voice, his personality, his tact, his pubic hair rutting against your clit - his everything. It's all perfect. And you'd sooner die than live in a world where he doesn't believe so.

It's why you've since taken your dedication to greater heights, explicitly professing your love for your husband in front of his boys whenever they come around, so John (and them) can see it isn't just an elaborate plot to ensure he puts his empty cereal bowl away in the dishwasher as soon as he finishes his breakfast in the morning, or to get him to wipe the crumbs from the toaster when the crumb tray gets too full, or clean the cigar ash from the ashtray on the dining room table - that he says he'll 'get round to' after he finishes his mountain of paperwork, which you know is false because it would take him weeks to climb.

It's really to make way for a kiss and a ruffle of his hair here, a hug and a grope of his butt there - just enough to let him know that, regardless of company, you think he's the most irresistible hunk of man in the room.

And, sure, the first few times are a little awkward for all of you, the boys included, as they feel they've encroached on something that best be left behind closed doors, but Kyle and Johnny - never Simon - swiftly come around to the notion that you showing your affection openly to John is a wondrous thing (Kyle truly thought, prior to then, that there might have been marrital troubles; he'd never even seen you two so much as kiss) and Johnny goes so far, himself, as to 'awh', whenever you peck John's lips, pinch his beard and call him 'cute', even if Johnny does get a sturdy bollocking from your husband back at base - it's oh-so worth it to see his Captain still madly in love after nine (almost ten) years of marriage!

And it feels like you've carried to full-term and subsequently birthed a healthy baby when you wake up to the sound of gushing water from the bathroom, to see John pat beard oil into his facial hair, stop, assess himself in the mirror, then mutter 'yeah, not bad', because Christ, it'd finally paid off.

| Masterlist |

[mattscoquette]

𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑬 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 .. you storm out on your boyfriend during a fight in the rain, resulting in you regretting leaving so angrily

major angst !!, arguing, crying, swearing, car crash, somewhat descriptive head injury, takes place in a hospital room

1.8k words

rain fell hard against the apartment windows, a large strike of lightening flashing through the night sky, lighting up the living room momentarily, before the dull light from above the stove was the only thing illuminating the room you and matt were arguing in.

“you are so selfish,” you said harshly, looking at matt across the table with daggers in your eyes as you angrily cleaned up dinner, “i slave away all day for you, and all you talk about is yourself. no thank you’s, no offers to help, nothing.”

matt scoffed, running a hand through his messy hair as he looked up at you. he had a long day of meetings and planning video ideas with his brothers, and his patience was wearing thin by the time he’d gotten home, resulting in him snapping at you during dinner. “i’m selfish? are you serious? you do nothing all day, you fucking lay around my house, spending my money, and you’re calling me selfish?”

you rolled your eyes, taking matt’s plate away from him, even if he wasn’t done yet. “oh, and like you’re working so hard? you fuck around with your brothers for a living, i don’t understand why you’re so moody all the time. i know if i were making the money you did while doing nothing, i’d be a lot more fucking chipper than you.”

that did it for matt. he pushed himself away from the table, nearly knocking his chair over in the process as he stood up. “you’re just- you’re ridiculous, you know that? you are the most ungrateful, entitled person i’ve ever met in my life.”

you glared at him, opening your mouth and closing it. you angrily dumped the dishes into the sink and headed towards the stairs, grabbing your shoes and hastily putting them on. you heard matt walk over to you as you kept your gaze down, blinking back the tears.

“baby, don’t go i-” matt pleaded, his tone softer as he reached for your arm.

“save it,” you snapped as you turned to face him, pushing his hand away, “i’m going home, since you obviously don’t want me here.”

he sighed, following after you as you hurried down the steps to the front door. “please, i don’t want you driving when you’re so upset, you can sleep on the couch or something.” he called after you, trying to catch up.

you were already out the door, the rain soaking you as you quickly made your way to your car. matt had caught up to you and placed his hand on the car door, stopping you from opening it.

“matt,” you shrieked, “stop it!”

“no,” he said, looking down at you, keeping his hand firm, “i’m not letting you drive like this.”

you scowled up at him, forcing his arm off of the door. your clothes began to cling to your body from the rain. “i can’t stand you.” you spat.

for a moment his face dropped, his hand falling to his side, before quickly looking angry again. he threw his arms up in frustration, stepping to the side to let you go. “fine, just fucking go then, i don’t care.”

you shoved him out of your way and climbed into the car, not even bothering to buckle in, reversing out of the driveway as fast as you could. you sped down the road, wanting nothing more than to just curl up into your own bed alone and cry.

you felt hot, angry tears slip down your cheeks as you drove down the windy roads leading home, the rain falling so hard you could barely see a foot in front of you. your windshield wipers moved at top speed back and forth against your front window, washing the rain off as quickly as it fell.

you recalled the way matt looked so angry when he told you to leave, causing you to cry more. you and matt had never argued like you had tonight, and it began to eat you alive. what if you two were actually done? you couldn’t lose him, he was your absolute everything. you both always promised one another nothing would ever come between you two, but after tonight, you weren’t so sure anymore.

you felt yourself crying even harder, your vision blurring as you continued to drive in the storm. you hadn’t noticed the large pot hole in the road until it was right in front of your car, causing you to swerve out of the way at the last second. your car slid across the slick pavement, spinning out of control before slamming hard into a nearby telephone pole head-on. your head hit the steering wheel with a sickening thump.

a loud ringing vibrated through your head, your vision blurry as everything suddenly felt so far away. you closed your eyes, reaching for your phone, before everything went black.

a bright light shone down on you as you slowly blinked, hearing the faint sound of men mumbling. your eyes fluttered open as you took in your surroundings. white walls, the steady beeping of a heart monitor, a thin curtain enclosing you in your bed. a hospital room. how had you gotten here?

you sat up slowly in an attempt not to dizzy yourself as you tried to recall what had happened. you remember the rain and the pothole, but why had you swerved so suddenly? what had you so distracted? you begin to remember crying angrily after an argument with matt. oh.

“hello?” you called out faintly, looking around for a doctor, a nurse, somebody.

the curtain was pulled back, a man in a white coat with a clip board smiling down at you. “glad to see you’re awake, miss y/l/n, right?”

you nodded as he continued to speak. “you gave us quite the scare last night, do you recall anything that had happened?”

“i, uh, i remember my car spinning out and hitting something. that’s about it though.” you mumbled as you looked up the man, pulling your knees up to your chest, “where’s matt?”

the doctor furrowed an eyebrow.

“my boyfriend,” you told him, “we were fighting last night and i’d left his house and-”

“oh, matt,” the doctor hummed, “he’s been here since last night in the waiting room. the emt called from the ambulance.”

“the ambulance?” you asked, sounding confused, “how’d they get there?”

“you had been able to call 911, but you passed out on the phone with them. an ambulance and police car had been sent to your location immediately.” the doctor replied.

you stared blankly at the wall as you took all the information in. you don’t remember passing out, or the ambulance. you can’t really remember anything clearly, other than how upset matt was with you. “can i see matt?” you asked quietly.

the doctor nodded, writing down on his clipboard, “yes, but it has to be brief, we have to run some more tests before we know how long we need to keep you for.”

you blinked up at him, offering a weak smile as he disappeared, closing the curtain behind him. a few minutes later, the curtain was pulled back hastily, revealing matt. he was still in his soaked clothes from the previous night, his hair messy and eyes bloodshot.

“oh, baby,” he whispered, frozen as he took in the sight of you. a large bandage was wrapped around the top of your head, and a purple bruise was starting to spread along your forehead. he walked over to you and dropped to his knees beside you, cupping your face gently. “i’m so sorry.”

you immediately began crying, wrapping your arms around matt’s neck as he pulled you into his embrace, holding you tight. he repeatedly kissed the side of your head, mumbling into your hair as he, too, started to cry. “i’m so sorry, my love, i’m sorry.”

you sobbed hard into his shoulder, clinging onto him tightly, gently pulling him up into the bed with you from the floor. “lay with me, please.”

matt carefully crawled into the bed beside you, holding onto your for dear life as he cried into your chest, soaking your hospital gown. “i shouldn’t have let you leave.” a large sob ripped through him as he clung to you tighter. his arms wrapped around your waist, burying his face against you. “i didn’t mean anything i said last night, i’m so sorry.”

“matty,” you cried loudly, hiding your face in his hair as you gasped for air in between sobs, “i don’t deserve you, thank you for coming.”

he bawled against your chest, picking his head up to look at you. his once blue eyes were now red, and his face tear stricken as ran his thumb across your cheeks. “no, no, no,” he whimpered, “don’t say that, please, it’s my fault you’re in here.”

you sniffled as matt gently wiped your tears away. "it’s not your fault," you whispered. "i shouldn't have left. i was so angry, and i lost control of the car."

“i know,” he mumbled, continuing to wipe your tears, “but i let you leave. i didn’t try to fight you on it.”

you tugged him back down into your chest, crying into his hair as you hugged him tightly once more. “yes you did,” you sobbed, “i was too stubborn. i’m sorry.”

“don’t be sorry,” he whispered, nuzzling into your neck as he hugged your waist tightly, “i should have never said any of those things to you last night to make you want to leave, i was in the wrong.”

“i said mean things too,” you mumbled through the tears, “i was so mean.”

"i don't care anymore." matt blubbered against your neck, his tears dampening your skin. he clung to you desperately, as if trying to mold himself with you so he'd never have to leave your side again.

the two of you continued to cry against one another, holding each other tightly as you both sobbed until you physically couldn’t anymore. matt pulled away from your neck, his cheek resting on your shoulder. he looked up at you, softly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “i love you so much, baby, so much.”

you sniffled, closing your eyes. “i love you too, matty, i’m so sorry.”

“me too,” he whispered, leaning up slightly to press a gentle kiss to your jawline, “i didn’t mean a single thing i said to you last night, i swear. i was just having a shit day and i took it out on you. i’m sorry.”

you nodded, your eyes fluttering open to meet matt’s gaze. "i forgive you," you whispered, gently running your fingers through his hair. "i’m sorry for what i said too. i’m just... i’m terrified of losing you."

“baby,” he murmured softly, shifting to lie beside you at eye level. his thumb gently caressed your cheekbone, “you’re never gonna lose me, i promise you.”

“promise?” you repeated quietly, outstretching your pinky finger, watching as matt interlocked it with his.

"promise." he whispered, maintaining eye contact as he leaned in to kiss your interlocked fingers.

© mattscoquette

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: dawg tell me why i legit cried while writing this i’m too emotional for angst bc wtf. anyway i hope u all enjoy! this is very much inspired by the book “if he had been with me” which i highly recommend reading <//3 even tho i cried. lmk if u guys like the angst maybe i’ll do more bc i don’t rlly do angst a lot! love u all so so much

[mapis-putellas]

𝐵𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑠

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Reader

Words: 1299

Warnings: None!

Summary: A typical morning in the Putellas household.

Notes: I’m so sorry for the long wait

"Good morning." You murmur as you slip behind Alexia and secure your arms around her waist, craning your head forward to press a kiss to her cheek. It was early, the sun just beginning to rise against the already blue sky, but Alexia seems to have been up for hours. She was clad in nothing but a black sports bra and a pair of red gym shorts, her blonde hair tied back into its usual ponytail with the fly aways secured by a headband.

The skin of her stomach was slightly clammy, and that along with the slight aroma of sweat lingering on her suggests she had just got done working out. You wrinkle your nose as you rest your chin against her shoulder, giving her a playful poke. "You stink." You add as an afterthought, grinning at the scoff that fills your ears.

“Good morning to out too, amor.” The sarcasm was evident as she pats your hands still pressed against her stomach.

“Hey!” You say defensively. “I said good morning first!”

“Before telling me I stink?” She glances back at you, a singular eyebrow raised.

You shrug. “Well, you do, so…”

Alexia turns her head to look back at you, a look of playful resignation on her face. "And yet you’re still hugging me." She retorts.

"The things I do for love," You joke wistfully before suddenly yelping at the not so gentle swat that meets your backside. "Hey, oww!" You whine, reaching back to rub at the smarting skin as you pull away from her. "Did you just swat me with the goddamn spatula?!"

Alexia's face holds no remorse as she turns to face you with a spatula in her hand, a single eyebrow raised. "Yep. And I will do it again if you do not behave, amor" She warns, and you mock salute her as you stomp away to the refrigerator with the intention of making your own breakfast. You all but yank open the door and grab the first thing you see -which just so happened to be a punnet of grapes- before slamming the door shut and tossing your chosen breakfast onto the counter. You hop up next to them, ignoring your still throbbing butt cheek as you begin kicking your legs.

Alexia glares at you as she turns off the stove, and you pointedly glare back as you pop a singular grape into your mouth and chew all without breaking eye contact.

Surprisingly, Alexia was the first to look away, letting out a deep sigh as she begins to dish out two portions of the scrambled eggs she'd made. "Eres un dolor en mi trasero." She grumbles beneath her breath as she heads to the sink to put the frying pan to soak, and your eyes narrow as you toss another grape into your mouth. You have no idea what she'd just said -curse your inability to learn a new language despite the many months of tutoring you'd had- but you were pretty sure it had been insulting.

Spotting the now discarded spatula Alexia had left by the stove, you reach for it and place it out of sight behind you just in time for the blonde to finish with whatever she was doing. She turns to face you, and you smile innocently as you continue kicking your legs like were the epitome of innocence. Alexia's own eyes narrow, glancing between you and her breakfast, and you roll your eyes again as you swallow.

"I didn't do anything to your breakfast, ale, relax."

Assured by the honesty in your voice, Alexia reaches for her eggs. She bends over, resting her elbows on the counter next to your body before beginning to eat.

"I think my butts going to bruise." You say, effectively breaking the silence.

Alexia glances your way and rolls her eyes as she swallows. "I didn't swat you that hard, amor." She murmurs, and you scoff again as you shift s little to face her. You both knew she'd never seriously hurt you, and even if she just so happened to do so on accident, she’d apologise profusely before promising she’d do anything in her power to make it up to you. This, however, was not one of those times. This was simply a case of who could annoy the other more.

"And how do you know?" You retort. "Are you me? Can you feel my pain?" You hold a hand to your chest, your other hand already behind you tightly gripping the handle of the spatula. You could feel the satisfaction racing through your body already. Oooh, revenge was going to be sweet.

Alexia chuckles in amusement at your dramatic response as she pats your thigh in hopes it would momentarily appease you. You simply blink at her audacity.

"I will kiss it better, amor." She promises somewhat seriously as she scoops up a forkful of eggs, and you smile slightly a you tighten your grip around the spatula.

"Aww, thanks. I'll kiss yours better too."

Alexia looks up at you with a frown of confusion. "But I don't-"

You cut her off by reaching forward and swatting her on the ass just a little harder than she'd done to you. She drops her fork in surprise as an unmistakable yelp escapes her lips, her hand instinctively reaching back to sooth the obvious sting, and you cackle loudly as you hop off of the counter with the intention of finding somewhere to hide before she could retaliate. You feel her fingers just skim the material of your shirt as she tries yet fails to grab you before you could leave the room. 

"Amor! Come back here, right now!" You hear her yell.

"No!" You scramble up the stairs, the sound of her footsteps pounding after you. Your hand was just inches away from the bathroom door handle before her arms grab your waist and yank your body back into her own. "Alexia! Let me go! This is not fair!" You laugh as she hauls you up into her arms and carries you through to your bedroom like you were no more than a rag doll.

"How is it not fair?" She tosses you onto the bed and climbs on top of you before you could even think about making your escape. Your chest heaves as she leans over you, her large hands pinning your wrists to the bed.

"You hit me first! I was just getting my well deserved revenge!" You yell, squirming futility beneath her.

Alexia stares down at you in amusement. "Revenge?"

"Yes!" You cry indignantly. "I have a spatula shaped bruise on my ass cheek because of you! It was only fair you get one because of me!"

"You are going to have a lot more than a spatula shape bruise when I am finished with you." Her eyes had a teasing glint to them, and you knew her next move could go one of two ways. One, she could mark you. Or more specifically, your neck and as a result you'd be forced to listen to the relentless teasing from your teammates until it fades. That was typically her chosen punishment for you when you ‘acted up’ despite your many protests. Or there was option number two . She could-

Hands attack your sides before without any warning, and the shriek the escapes your lips was immediate as you scramble to knock her hands away to no avail.

You guess revenge was a dish best served cold after all.

**

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