#he sucks at every other recipe

[danothan]

BARRY ALLEN HEADCANON: FOOD EDITION

some autistic ppl have the same few comfort foods they eat over and over, while some adhd ppl can’t consecutively eat the same thing more than once bc they get bored of it so quickly. so in the context of barry allen (who definitely has both), i hc that he likes to get experimental with his safe foods! he’s the type of person to crave stability, but i think his scientist habits and natural curiosity would have him wanting to spice things up in little ways to keep things fresh. so, as a small example, he might eat pizza every night for a week, but the toppings are gonna be different every time.

generally speaking, i think barry knows his way around a kitchen. i’d imagine that darryl wasn’t much of a cook as a single man of the house, so barry had to learn to cook for the both of them growing up (partly out of gratitude, mostly out of missing that sense of familiarity and homeliness).

now with these headcanons established, i’d like to introduce DC superhero girls into the picture. we all know that scene where barry’s trying to cheer up babs by making her his latest ice cream concoction, right? (“latest” also implying that this is smth he does frequently!) he gives her what he calls a “jalapeno toffee twirl sundae,” which is. obviously an abomination of a combo, but he’s ofc none the wiser. like babs straight up spits it out and he’s wondering if the problem is that he didn’t put enough salt 🤦🏻 (thank you dcshg for everything you’ve done for the barry allen community 🙏)

merging these ideas together, i believe that barry is a decent cook with a knack for experimentation + a picky eater with terrible taste. AND, may i remind you, is from the MIDWEST; he’s already starting off with what can only be called failed food experiments as his standard. what all of this adds to is that barry’s cooking is… a hit or miss. he’s had years of experience but a palate that challenges that skill. so be careful if you dine at the allen household; he’ll feed you with love, certainly, but it may come in the form of watergate “salad.” or… his version of it at least.

[pears-trinkets]

everything sucks so hard rn idk

[exopelagic]

I am baking cake at midnight and it is going to kill me <3

[baby-yongbok]

Don't Go Insane

Neighbor!Bang Chan x afab!Reader

✧Genre - Smut ✧Warnings: Unprotected piv (Wrap it up ya'll) ✧ Masterlist ✧

A/N: I have never ever written a fic in this format but it was the only was for my brain to process the idea😭This is a product of those fucking SINFUL photos that Chan took for Nylon Japan. I'm sorry if it sucks, I'm trying to get back into writing again so I might suck for a bit, sorry! Hope you enjoy! (not proofread)

You weren't expecting to actually like your new neighbor since your previous one was such a dick but when you meet Chan he's more than kind to you. 

He always greets you in the hallway, helping you bring your bags up to your place when you get home from shopping and checks in on you when he hasn't seen you for a couple of days

You find yourself going out around the same time that he would usually get home from his morning workout just so you can talk to him. He's so sweet and charming and hot. Oh so hot. 

He brings you food when he's made too much dinner to fit in his fridge which is code for he wanted an excuse to talk to you and gave you 50% of his meal just to see your face. 

You invite him in to eat the first time that he brings you food and it quickly turns into spending Sunday nights eating together and laughing at his stories. It's your favorite day of the week now. 

You drop by his place to ask if he needs anything from the store every time that you go now. He's memorized the pattern of your knock and jumps to his feet every time he hears it. 

You're in line at the store one day when a magazine catches your eye. Is that…Chan!? You grab it, looking through with wide eyes before buying it and nearly forgetting about the rest of your items. 

You don't tell him that you saw it. He never said what he did for work and yeah he's hot - Oh so hot - but you never thought that this would be his occupation and you defiantly didn't think that this is how you'd find out.

You flip through the magazine all night. Staring at his beautiful chocolate gaze and his perfectly blushed lips. How is he even real?

You may have also stared at his shirtless pics for an hour too long. No one has to know that though.

He brings over a new recipe that he tried this Sunday. Setting up your usual spot on the living room floor when his eyes land on a familiar photo on your side table. It's him. You bought his magazine? He tries to act normal about it but his red ears and blushed cheeks give him away. 

You catch on when he glances at it for a second time and you internally body slam yourself for forgetting to put it away. You both eat quietly, blushing and trying to find the right thing to say next. 

“I'm sorry about that.” You speak first and he glances up quickly, straightening himself up with a shy smile. “It's fine, I'm just embarrassed I guess.” He's shy about being hot?? Why does that make him hotter?

“Are you always the shy type?” Your question was genuine but your tone was suggestive, almost teasing. It creates a shift in his demeanor that makes you shiver. “Not always, no.”

You don't know how it happened. It's all a blur. One second he was talking to you, confident and sweet. He was telling you about the shoot for the magazine when he got to the topic of the shirtless photos. The air around you thickened and the words that started it all slid off your tongue.

“You look so good it could drive me insane.” You chuckled but his eyes darkened in response. 

“Do you want me to?” His eyes are on yours, his gaze is heavy and intense. “What?” You drop your fork, swallowing hard. “Make you go insane?”

That's how you ended up with his lips on yours. He swallowed each and every strangled moan and replaced it with one of his own. His hands explored your body, fast yet cautious. A gentleman.

He pulls you into his lap, one of his large palms gripping your ass over your leggings and the other cupping your cheek to keep you still for him. He pulls you close, chest to chest. He's been waiting to feel you since the moment he first saw you. He feels like he's dreaming and he prays that he never wakes up. 

His breathing picks up when you plant sloppy kisses along his jawline. Mind numbing groans and hisses falling from his lips. “You're gonna make me go insane, fuck.”

His lips feel like heaven against your skin. Soft and all-consuming. He leaves marks along your collar bones, sucking and flicking his tongue over the delicate skin. Your head is spinning as you take him in. This beautiful man that you've been dreaming of for months finally has his hands on you. 

You grind against him, his fingers digging into your hips as he presses up into you. The way that he looks up at you with his lip caught between his teeth is intoxicating. “You're so fucking beautiful.” He smiles at your compliment, blinking a blush away and trying to keep his composure. “Took the words right outta my mouth.”

You pull back, sitting on the shaggy rug and frantically undressing. You're desperate, antsy, absolutely insatiable and Chan isn't too far behind but you could never tell by how composed he looks. How does he have that much self control?

He moves to sit on the couch and watches you as you strip. Taking in every beautiful inch of your body while he makes himself comfortable. You look up at him as he sits, man spreading at the edge of your couch and giving you the perfect view of his aching cock straining against his jeans. 

Fucking sinful

"Crawl to me, baby. Come here." He beckons you with two fingers that you're dying to be acquainted with. The smile on his face while you follow his order is enough to make you explode already.

He leans forward, cupping your face and kissing you with such soft hunger. So much passion and desire. A promise, like his kiss is asking you to be his. You palm him softly over his jeans earning a soft moan from him. "You want it?” He leans back, resting against the back of your sofa, giving you full access to his zipper and button. “Go ahead, take it, princess."

His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he watches you free his cock and his eyes roll back when you fist it confidently. Pumping him at a deliciously slow place. You want to drag this out. You don't ever want this to end. 

He puts his hand over yours once he gets fed up with your teasing. He loves how your hand feels around him but he needs more of you. He taps his leaking cock against your lips and you allow your spit to dribble down his shaft. "Stick that tongue out. There we go, baby. That's my girl. Look at that.”

He holds your hair back as you slide his length into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. His fingers massage your scalp softly making you hum around him. He's a gentleman, a filthy one. 

He couldn’t wait to switch places with you, falling to his knees so fluidly that you couldn’t help but to groan at the sight of him. His gaze never left yours. His eyes were constantly asking for permission to continue and you eagerly granted it every time.

He ate your pussy like a fucking starved man. Lick and sucking the expanse of your cunt like he’d never see you again. Your moans encouraged him as he lapped at you, he wanted - no, needed - you to cum on his tongue. It’s all that he’s been dreaming of for the last month. 

He made you cum twice and had to hold back the urge to keep going. He’s definitely found his new favorite thing.

Nevermind, kissing you is his favorite thing. The way that you sigh into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue and biting his bottom lip drives him wild. 

You’re seeing stars as soon as he slips into you. His strong arms on either side of your head as he hovers, kissing you softly as you adjust to him. “Fuck, you’re a dream come true, ya know that? I’ve dreamt of this, princess.” You can hardly reply once he fills you to the hilt but you try to anyway, moaning out as your vision blurs. “Wanted you so bad, Channie.”

That was enough to break him. He snapped his hips into you, giving you everything that you ever wanted, ever needed, from him. He fucks you deep, speeding up gradually just to hear you moan his name a little louder. He wants to be gentle with you but with a cunt that feels this amazing he can’t help but want to make you fall apart underneath him.

You always imagined being on top when you finally got to be with Chan but it looks like that’ll have to be another day. The way that his cock is splitting you open makes you feel like you might have to call out of work tomorrow. 

“Look at me, babygirl. You liked seeing my pictures, huh? Did you touch this pretty cunt while looking at them?” You nod your head with such urgency that you’re positive that you look absolutely pathetic but Chan thinks that it’s cute, he’s in love with how fucked out you look drooling under him. “All you had to do was ask for the real thing.” He rolls his hips into you and your eyes roll back right after. 

He holds both of your hands as he slows down a bit, he wants to make love to you. Wants to treat you like the precious gem that he knows that you are but your cunt keeps fucking squeezing around him. He curses under his breath as he tries to compose himself but it’s no use. He watches as he disappears inside of you, groaning when he sees just how perfectly your pussy is taking him. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby. You’re too much. Too good.” 

Much to his surprise you cave before he does, chanting his name like a prayer while he rocks into you at the perfect angle. You feel dizzy as you unravel under him, nails digging into his strong arms and your legs wrapping around his waist in a desperate attempt to feel grounded. 

The way that you look cumming on his cock drives him over the edge. He picks up the pace, fucking you through your orgasm while he’s chasing his. The overstimulation draws out your climax causing a new wave of pleasure to hit you harder than the last. “Yeah yeah yeah, oh fuck such a pretty girl cumming on my cock like that, that's it baby.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying but he doesn’t care he’s so close so so so close.

You forced your eyes open when he pulled out, you needed to watch him stroke himself over the edge and cover your stomach in his cum. You need to take in the way his eyes squeeze shut and his brows furrow while he moans for you. “Oh fuck fuck fuck.”

The giggles that you share after may be Chan’s new favorite part. He cleaned you up and wrapped his arms around you. Pressing kisses to your hair as you both talk about what just happened with smiles on your faces 

“This is a bit backwards but uh, can I take you out? Maybe next weekend?” The butterflies in your stomach go crazy as you blush into his chest, nodding happily and answering with a muffled ‘yes’ that makes Chan chuckle. “Maybe afterward I can fuck the sense back into ya, since I drove you insane tonight.”

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ fuckboy!mingi x party girl!reader (feat. best friends/roomates!woosan)

synopsis ✭ you like to party but that doesn’t mean you’re always down to fuck, so, when notorious fuck boy song mingi takes an interest in you, you’re certainly wary of him. but something about his insistence and willingness to go the extra mile is incredibly attractive. when they see you start to play into him, though, your best friends wooyoung and san do everything in their power to keep you away from him. so mingi has no choice but to fly under their radar.

content/genre ✭ smut MDNI 18+, fwb/situationship to ???, undefined relationship, secret relationship

word count ✭ 5.3k

warnings ✭ alcohol consumption (not during/before sex), protected sex, slight dirty talk, fingering, sex is pretty vanilla

✭✭✭✭

CHAPTER 1: SWEET TALKER

The scene was very familiar to you. A packed bar on a Friday night. A skimpy outfit that made you feel good. Loud music that shook through your body, lyrics drowned out by the heavy bass and mass of people. All of that on top of a drink in your hand paid for by a guy you knew full well you were not going home with. It was the recipe for a perfect night.

You certainly weren’t a stranger to a good party. And this one wasn’t any different from the others. The drink in your hand was free, paid for by the pretty stranger you were talking to. His name completely slipped your mind, but you didn’t really need to remember it because, moments after catching your eyes from across the bar, your friend slipped his arm over your shoulder.

When you looked up at him in mock surprise, he kissed your forehead. He turned to look at the guy you were talking to, one who was mildly surprised to find out you had a boyfriend.

Despite his surprise, though, he piped up anyway, “Can I help you? We were kinda talking here.”

Wooyoung shook his head and laughed, “I don’t really appreciate guys buying drinks for my girl and trying to hook up with her.”

“But–”

“We’ll be on our way actually,” Wooyoung cut off the nameless man, leading you away with his arm still around your shoulder. 

It wasn’t until the two of you made it to the tall table where your friend San was standing that he dropped his arm from your shoulder.

Immediately, though, Wooyoung glared at you, “Was the drink worth it?”

“Honestly, not really,” you laughed, “His taste kinda sucked.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow, “You’re just mad you can’t anyone to pay for your alcohol that isn’t San.”

“I only pay because he never stops whining,” he glared at your friend. “And it’s not like I’m gonna drink tonight either,” he said, taking a sip of the Coke in his hand.

“You don’t have to be the designated driver every weekend, San,” you told him, “Wooyoung knows how to drive, too.”

Wooyoung scoffed, “You bitch. You know how to drive. Why don’t you ever offer?”

“Because you are a gentleman, and you would never make me drive you home after a long night.”

“That’s some bullshit logic.”

You shrugged, “It works on San.”

“You know I don’t mind,” San chimed in, trying to break up this completely unnecessary argument.

You knew, but pushing Wooyoung’s buttons was always fun, especially when he was tipsy. Turning away from the table, scanning the bar. It was relatively early, only around ten, but the bar was packed with mostly students from your university. They hung around the bar and danced on the floor. It was a typical Friday night for a lot of students at your university. Since the bar was only half a mile from campus, you’d be hard-pressed to find a body in here who didn’t attend your school or know someone who did. Despite that, most of these people you had never seen before in your life. 

Song Mingi was not one of those people. 

Personally, you had only ever interacted with him in passing. Mostly with his friends. When they bought you a drink hoping you’d come back to their place. The majority of them had failed (in fact, only one of them had ever succeeded). But you knew his name at least, and you were pretty confident he knew yours.

He had never really tried. Probably because you had a reputation for rejections. Most guys, fortunately for your wallet, saw this as a challenge, and you were never gonna turn down free stuff.

From where he stood across the bar you could tell he was staring at you. Even with his stupid sunglasses on. He was staring at you with complete disregard for the fact that there was already a girl on his arm. You saw his eyebrows raise above the glasses as if he was greeting you without tipping off the girl with him. You rolled your eyes a looked back over at San who was sliding around the table to your side. 

“He’s been watching you all night.”

“Really?” you titled your head, minorly intrigued. Maybe “minorly” was a lie because you could hardly ignore the butterflies in your stomach at knowing that fact.

“Y/n…”

You side-eyed him, “What?” 

You knew “what.” Of course, you did. That much was obvious from the girl on his arm who he was pretending to pay attention to. Mingi went through girls like they were busy work. Checking them off like boxes and moving on to the next. As far as you know, he hadn’t had a girlfriend in your four years of attending the university, and you weren’t delusional enough to believe that the attention he was giving you was anything special.

As much as you despised a fuckboy, though, you would be a fool to deny that Song Mingi was the epitome of your type. Tall, dark hair, great style. Dressed in all black and adorned with carefully chosen silver jewelry. Sometimes you wondered why all the hottest guys you knew were the ones who were almost certainly never going to settle down. San would be the one to tell you to reassess your type, but listening to San was something you didn’t do very often (even though he was always right).

“I know you, and you do not want to mess around with him.”

“Correction, I don’t want to date him. I would very much like to mess around with him.”

San looked at you disapprovingly, “You and I both know that you don’t go home with guys because you know you’ll catch feelings for a one-night-stand. Tell me how the fuck you’re going to mess around with him and keep it purely casual.”

He was right, as per usual. You weren’t really the type to be able to separate romantic feelings from your sex life. God, you had surely tried, but each attempt had ended in disastrous heartbreak. And you had no reason to believe that this would be any different.

“One drink couldn’t hurt.” You were desperately trying to reason with him. Well, you were more trying to reason with yourself, but San was there to be of assistance.

“Ask him why the fuck he’s wearing sunglasses inside at night,” Wooyoung chimed in from behind you.

“Stop encouraging her.”

“Ok, dad,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes and took a sip of the Coke San had left on the table.

“It’s fine, Sannie, I’m not gonna fuck him. I’ll just talk to him, and maybe dance with him. That’s it. I’ll still come back here, and we’ll all go home together. Ok?”

Despite San’s major disapproval, you made your way back up to the bar. If he wanted you that bad, he’d come to you. You certainly weren’t going to make the first move here. If he wanted to get closer than just checking you out.

Inevitably, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was Wooyoung, and he was letting you know that Mingi was making his way toward the bar. 

In order to avoid another mediocre drink, you started ordering a drink for yourself. When the bartender asked for your card at the end of your order, you started digging around in your clutch. Mingi knew your game. He knew full well, as he approached you, that that clutch held absolutely nothing of monetary value. And he was right of course, you had brought it for the sole purpose of holding your phone and a tube of lip gloss. 

“Go ahead and make two of those,” Mingi reached over your shoulder and handed the bartender his card.

You looked up at him, eyes wide, faking your surprise, “Oh! Thank you.”

“Of course, anything for a pretty girl who goes to bars without a wallet” he smiled down at you. Leaning against the bartop.

Laughing, you shrugged, “I don’t need to why pretty boys are willing to pay for my drinks.”

“So you knew I would pay before you even got up here?”

“Please, I could practically feel you staring at me all night,” that was fully a lie, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Couldn’t help myself. You look great it black,” He gestured to the minidress you wore. It was one of your favorites, so it felt good that he seemed to like it, too.

You grabbed at the jacket he was wearing, running your thumb over the fabric, “So do you.”

The bartender slid your drinks to you, and Mingi picked both of them up. His fingers brushed your own as he handed it to you. 

The two of you chatted and flirted for the better part of an hour. The time honestly flew by. You looked over at your friends to see that some more people had gathered around their table. Great. That meant you had time. San chatting away with people meant he wasn’t ready to leave. And you wanted to dance with Mingi. So you for sure weren’t ready to leave. You looked out over the dance floor, it was still super lively. Just crowded enough for you to have fun. 

When you set your empty glass down on the bar, Mingi grabbed your hand. He nodded toward the dance floor you were looking at so longingly, “You wanna dance?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “sure.”

✭✭✭✭

Dancing with Mingi was incredible. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the fact that he looked so fucking good under the low lights of the bar, but holy shit. 

The rings on his hand dug into your waist where his hands were holding you against him. With your head leaned back against his chest, you could feel his breath on your neck. He groan slightly ever time you gripped his hair. It was such a subtle groan that you could only really feel it reverbrate of hiss body. 

When he turned you around in his arms, you where quick to place yours over his shoulders, pushing your chest into his. He smirked down at you with both of his hands resting on the lowest part of your back, any lower and he fully would have been groping you.

You danced with him for an indecerable amount of time. You were sweating from the amount of bodies in the room, and you can tell Mingi is too from the sheen on his forehead. 

Moving a hand from his shoulder you grabbed the sunglasses, his stupid fucking sunglasses, and lifted them up onto his head. Looking into his eyes for the first time, he winked at you. You laughed and rolled your eyes.

He pulled you closer to him, as if it were even possible. You tangled your hands in his hair as the two of you danced together. Communicating with nothing but body movements. Everything was hot, from the air in the room, to his hands on your back. You felt nothing but pure dopamine infused ecstasy. 

Most of the time, the men who bought you drinks spent their time with you bragging about themselves and telling you how good you looked in whatever outfit you had opted for that night.

It was rare that you actually had fun with them. That was usually reserved for your friends.

Maybe it was the fact that you had already decided on not going home with him, though that decision was sounding more and more unappealing as the night went on, or maybe it was because you were dancing with a man who just knew how to have fun. 

There were no thoughts in you head other than the utter giddiness you felt when his hands squeezed your waist or when his head dipped to your neck as he breathed something in your ear.

Nothing could take you out of this moment. Well maybe except your phone buzzing in your bag. You had felt it buzz around six times before you reached into your bag to see what it was. 

Of course, as you suspected it might be, it was Wooyoung. Telling you that he was tired and wanted to go home. You huffed and thought about ignoring it when you saw San approaching you.

Quickly, and without much thought at all, you reached into Mingi’s back pocket. He looked a bit taken aback by the action. When you pulled out his phone, he looked down at you, intrigued. 

“Open it,” you told him. He did what you asked, unlocking the device and handing it back to you. You were quick to type in your number with your name. Simple. No emojis. No petnames. He could change it up later if he really wanted. 

By the time San had grabbed your shoulder, you had already given him his phone back. And that was it. You let San pull you away. Left him with nothing but your phone number. Not a kiss. Not a promise to meet up. Not a “call me” with a wink. Nothing.

You left him with the hope that, if he really wanted you, he would chase you. At least just a little bit.

✭✭✭✭

Mingi had really pulled through. He had texted you that next night. It was nothing special. He told you that he had had a good time. That he thought you were beautiful, and he’d love to see you again. You texted a bit through the week, too. Casually flirting with each other. Well, it was more of him flirting, and you responding calmly. A completely false persona, because every time he mentioned anything suggestive you were a total wreck. Kicking your feet, giggling with red ears.

Even when he texted you at work.

✭✭✭✭

Working the closing shift was always such a bore. Working until the late hours of the night, cleaning up messes that you had no part in making. It was the perfect storm for a less-than-perfect evening. 

Having a friend to join you in that suffering, though, made it just a little more bearable. You had to beg your manager to keep scheduling you with San in the evenings, but it certainly paid off. The restaurant was small, so it was just the two of you at night. Left to your own devices to clean up and close down. 

Being alone with him, though, unfortunately, gave him time to lecture you.

You’d just finished mopping the floors in the back kitchen when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You smiled a little when you saw who it was.

“Oh god,” you heard San grumble from where he was next to you, also mopping the floors.

You looked up at him, “what?”

“You know what,” he rolled his eyes, “are you actually talking to that douchebag?”

You shrugged, “it’s nothing serious. It’s all just fun.”

“Yeah, it’s all just fun until you actually start catching feelings for him, and then he dumps you like he has so many other girls.”

His words stung quite a bit, but mostly because you knew there was more than a small layer of truth to them. You knew this was far from the first time that Mingi had given a girl this much attention, but you’d be fully lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t like it. His sweet words and constant pet names were something you looked forward to every day.

Which is why you looked back down at your phone despite San’s obvious disapproval.

| mingi: you work at arriba’s right?

| you: uhh…yeah? who told that? and why?

| mingi: no one told me. ive just seen you there a lot 

| mingi: and you said you were working tonight so i wanted to know if i could pick you up after your shift

| mingi: my roommate’s gone tonight. thought maybe we could watch a movie or whatever. we’ll have the place to ourselves

Holy shit. He was inviting you over. You’d only been talking to him for a week, but you were starting to wonder if texting back and forth was going to be the extent of this…thing…the two of you had going on.

| you: riiiight… watch a movie…

| mingi: we can do whatever you want baby

| mingi: i don’t give a shit about the movie. i just wanna see your pretty face

You glanced over at San, who was still vigorously mopping the floors in the kitchen. There’s no way you could have Mingi pick you up without him noticing. He was your ride home anyway. You didn’t want to lie to him either though. Which meant you’d have to face the humiliation of telling him you were going over to “watch movies” with the guy he was desperately trying to get you to avoid.

But you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to see Mingi. And you’d be lying even more if you said you just wanted to watch a movie with him. You were trying so hard, though, to make him keep playing this game. To see how far he was willing to go. How much he was willing to chase you. 

You couldn’t help it, though, that every time he texted you thought back to him dancing with you at the bar. His hands on your waist and your back. His lips brushed up against your ear. The strands of his dark hair between your fingers.

Noticing your silence, Mingi messaged you again:

| mingi: please baby? i really want to see you

| mingi: i’ll even pick up some takeout on my way to get you

| mingi: and i’ll drive you home tomorrow i promise

Tommorow? Well fuck. You really weren’t sure at first if he wanted you to spend the night, but that much was clear now. Sure, you probably wouldn’t get done at Arriba’s until midnight, but you thought maybe he’d just drive you home super late. But spending the night? Well, that just added a whole new level of intrigue.

| you: fine, i get off at 12. don’t be late

| mingi: wouldnt dream of it 

San was still mildly upset at you as the night went on. Well, upset wasn’t really the word, he was more worried you were gonna get your heart broken which you assured him wouldn’t happen because there were no feelings really involved here. Hell, you hadn’t even met up outside the bar yet.

But San’s poor attitude made it significantly harder to bring up this evening’s plan.

“Hey, um,” you started, not looking at him as you wiped down the table in front of you, “I, uh, don’t need a ride home tonight.” 

You glanced up to see that he’d stopped wiping down his table. 

“Ok,” he responded, resuming his cleaning.

You cringed, that response was almost worse than a lecture, and you told him that. 

He shrugged in response, “You’re an adult. I’m not going to tell you what to do. I can strongly advise you against certain things, but I’m not going to stop you,” he met your eyes, “If he makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, though, please call me, ok?”

You nodded.

“I won’t lecture you at all. I’ll just come get you.”

"Thank you, Sannie,"

✭✭✭✭

After counting down the cash and setting the alarm, you were both ready to go for the evening. You checked your phone for the time. 12:14. Below it, of course, was a message from Mingi:

| mingi: im here

[attachment: 1 image]

| mingi: and ive got food

You bid your friend farewell with a hug. When you stepped out into the parking lot, you saw Mingi leaning up against the hood of his car, food in hand. San’s eyes burned into the back of your head as you made your way over to him. Actually, you had more reason to believe he was staring at Mingi rather than at you.

He pushed himself off his car when he saw you coming. He held the food out to you, grinning. 

“What’d you get?” you asked, taking the bag from him.

He shrugged, “Just some chicken. I wasn’t sure what you liked. There’s fries in there too, and I’ve got a Coke in the car if you want it.”

“Thank you.” “Not a problem, baby,” he glanced over your shoulder, “Although…is your friend gonna be alright? He won’t stop staring.”

The butterflies you got seeing him call you “baby” over text were nothing compared to the pure giddiness that came from hearing it out loud. 

Of course, though, you had to remind yourself that you were far from the only girl whom he’d called “baby” with that voice you’d come to obsess over. This wasn’t about the use of a pet name, it was about how his voice really got you going. But just maybe you did enjoy him calling you “baby.”

“Don’t worry about him. He just doesn’t like you very much.”

“Oh, how refreshing,” Mingi rolled his eyes, but his smirk didn’t go unnoticed by you.

✭✭✭✭

After pulling his car into the parking lot and leading you up four flights of stairs (apparently, the elevator has been broken for months), you arrived at the door of Mingi’s apartment. He pulled the key from his pocket, unlocking the door and pushing it open. He turned around to usher you through the door.

“Here she is,” he mumbled.

You laughed a little, “You refer to your apartment as a ‘she.’”

He shrugged and laughed a little with you, not providing any explanation at all. 

You took a glance around the apartment, other than the bedrooms, you could see the whole thing from where you stood in the doorway. It was small, but it definitely was an adequate living situation for two college students on a budget. You walked through the kitchen, setting the leftover food on his counter since you had eaten most of it on the drive here. 

When Mingi disappeared into his bedroom, you froze just a bit. He’d seemed super casual over the phone. It was obvious that he definitely wanted to have sex with you but not at all like he’d try to force it out of you. You were kind of under the impression that the ball was in your court on that one. Maybe you had misread the situation.

Despite your confusion, you made a couple of steps toward his room only to see him emerge from the room moments later with some clothes in his.

“I figured you might want to change out of your work clothes,” he says, pushing the change of clothes into your arms. It was nothing special, a black tee and some gray basketball shorts. “If you want you can use the shower too. I cleaned it yesterday, too, so you don’t have to worry about anything.” He laughed, scratching the back of his head.

You were a little thrown off by his demeanor. Maybe the flirty Mingi you had previously been interacting with had an on-and-off switch, because, right now, he was just treating you like a friend who was crashing at his place for the evening. Not at all like the Mingi who you’d been talking to all week who was desperately trying to get into your pants.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I actually wouldn’t mind taking a shower.”

✭✭✭✭

After you had finished your shower and, mostly, dried your hair, you and Mingi sat together on the couch. His arm rested behind your shoulders as he scrolled through different shows on the TV. 

Holy hell he smelt good. You couldn’t tell if it was just good hygiene or cologne or maybe even just fabric softener, but, nonetheless, you couldn’t help but breathe in and lean closer into his side. When he felt you lean closer, the arm around your shoulder pulled you in just a bit closer. You glanced up at his face which was still focused on the screen in front of you. Illuminated solely by the television screen and the faint light in the kitchen behind you. Your eyes traced his profile watching how his eyelashes fluttered and his tongue absentmindedly played with his lips. They looked soft. Really soft. 

Forcing yourself to stop looking at his lips, halting the dirty thoughts that began clouding your mind, you looked back up at his eyes which were focused on the screen ahead of you. Light from the TV reflected off the glassy surface of his eyes. He truly was beautiful. 

In all honesty, you felt yourself falling into dangerous territory here. Everything about this situation, him buying you dinner, letting you wear his clothes and use his shower, cuddling on his couch while his roommate was out of town. All of it screamed couple. Right? Why was he treating you like a girlfriend? You knew for a fact that wasn’t his angle here. Or at least you thought. God this was so frustrating. Why couldn’t you just relax and enjoy yourself in the arms of a beautiful man? This is why you never went home with guys. You would spend the entirety of your night micromanaging your thoughts and overanalyzing the situation. 

Subconsciously, in the midst of your chronic overthinking, you had pulled away from Mingi just a little, but it was enough for him to notice and look down at you.

“You good?” he asked. Setting the remote down on the couch next to him.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. Maybe I should kiss him. You thought. That would make it clear what you wanted. Give him some indication. No that’s a terrible idea. And an impulsive one, too.

He found your speechlessness endearing. He laughed softly and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, brushing your jaw with his fingers and swiping his thumb softly across your cheek.

Well, fuck. You lost all restraint over yourself in that moment. 

Holding his hand against your face with your own, you leaned into him and kissed him. He hummed into the kiss, smirking slightly as his moved with your own. His lips were just as soft as you imagined. Like velvet when they passed over yours. And fuck he tasted good, you could tell he had definitely freshened up while you were in the shower. 

You sighed even further into the kiss when his hand moved down to your neck. Throwing one leg over his lap, you straddled his waist. He kissed you even harder now. Playfully biting your bottom lip. Pulling at it before kissing your chin. Then your jaw. Down your neck. All the way to your collarbone.

His hands dug into your hips much like they had when you had danced together the weekend prior. Your hands gripped his t-shirt. Failing to contain your anticipation.

“Baby,” he whispered, the depth of his voice shot straight to your core, “how far do you wanna take this?”

You whined, grateful he was defining boundaries but overwhelmed with the fact you had to tell him how you wanted it, “Please, Mingi.” You breathed out a heavy breath, “I need you.”

He smirked, his demeanor changed ever so slightly. Noted. You thought. He liked it when you begged. “Come on, baby. Tell me what you want.”

Burring your face in his neck and gripping his shirt tight, you rolled your hips. Grinding your core into him, “Mingi,” you moaned softly, “You’ll make me feel good, right?”

“Of course,” and apparently that was enough for him because, in the next moment, he pulled the shirt you were wearing over your head. Leaving your bare chest exposed to him.

He shifted you slightly. Motioning for you to lay back on the couch. You did, and he was quick to start kissing at your chest. His lips brushed over you collar bone. He kissed down your sternum and reached your belly button before coming back up to kiss your breasts.

You gripped his hair as he pulled a nipple into his mouth. Biting at it as he massaged the other one with his hand. He wasn’t wearing his rings right now, but you could only imagine how it would feel. The cold metal against your skin.

With his mouth occupied, you felt a hand slip under the waistband of your shorts and past your panties. You gasped, loudly, when he slid his finger through your folds. He hummed contently when you arched your back into him as he slid the finger into you. Adding another soon after you. 

His thumb played with your clit. Slowly. You could tell he wasn’t trying to make you cum right now. He was doing his do-diligence and prepping you. You had no doubt that he could make you cum if he wanted to or else he wouldn’t be so popular with women. You had heard stories about nights with Mingi, and everyone was always overwhelmingly positive about his skills in bed.

Your eyes rolled back slightly when he slipped a third finger into you. Mouth open in a silent moan that came out as nothing more than a little whine, you threw back your head. 

Shortly after though, he pulled his fingers out of you. He pulled off your shorts and panties together before ridding himself of his own pants and underwear too. Fuck, he was big. He smirked when he saw you looking, “You can take it. Right baby?”

You nodded breathlessly, “Mhm.”

When he hovered back over you, you gripped at his shirt. Trying to pull it over his head. He helped you out. Reaching behind his back to pull the tee over his head. You would have spent more time admiring his build but he was back to kissing you in an instant. His kisses made you so dizzy. You probably could have just kissed him for hours if you weren’t so undeniably horny. 

You were so focused on his lips that you didn’t even notice when he’d slipped on a condom. You whined when he slid his length between your folds. He held down your hips when you started to roll them. Begging for something to touch your clit that was almost throbbing for attention. 

“Don’t be so greedy, baby. I’ll take care of you.” 

And that he did. The moment he slid into you, you lost all control of yourself. Your nails dug into his back as he thrust into you. Painfully slow at first.

“Please,” you begged, “faster…” You wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him closer.

His thumb furiously rubbed at your clit as he thrust into you. Faster and deeper with every movement of his hips. You gripped at anything you could, his shoulders, his hair, his back. 

You were so undeniably lost in your own pleasure. Your mind was foggy. All you could think about was this beautiful man, furiously fucking you, grunting in your ear, and breathing on your neck. 

Even though you thought it was impossible, his thumb moved fasted on your clit. When he hit just the right angle you cried out, and he could feel you tighten around him. 

“Oh?” he asked between pants, “Right there?”

“Fuck! Yes, right there!” your head lolled to the side as you felt your orgasm approaching. Your legs shook as they wrapped around his waist, holding him close. With one final movement of his thumb, you came around him. Your walls fluttered as you reached that incredible high. “Oh god!” You cried out. 

“Shit,” he grunted, “I’m close, baby. Hold on.” With a couple more thrusts into your sensitive pussy, he came into the condom. 

He fell forward on top of you. His arms or either side of your head held him up so he wasn’t crushing you. Your chests both heaved. 

“Wow,” you said, breathlessly.

He laughed and kissed you softly, “Was it good?”

You nodded, “Great.”

When you looked into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, you momentarily forgot that you were not supposed to get your feelings wrapped up in this. Sirens rang in your head as he kissed you again, but, if he was gonna fuck you this good, you could ignore them for just a little longer.

✭✭✭✭

note ✭ ayyeeee it's done!! i honestly don't know how considering i have midtrems this week 😅 anyways, this has been in the drafts for about two months, and i'm glad i finally decided to start it!

if you enjoyed, please let me know! i absolutely LOVE hearing feedback whether it be through my inbox, comments or reblogs.

not sure when the next chapter will be released, but if you want to join the taglist you can lmk here or sign up here :)

[noveauskull]

You are the oasis that hydrates us thirsty readers. I thank you for that haha.

For the request, wuwa men with a reader who's a a bit mischievous that intentionally riles them up in public and then leaving them hard and turned on?

Thank you again for writing all of these wonderful fics/oneshots :D

WUWA Men When You Leave Them Hard In Public! [NSFW]

characters: jiyan, geshu lin, mortefi, calcharo, aalto, yuanwu, scar x reader

summary: you and your boyfriend are walking around Jinzhou until you decided to be a little mischevious

warnings: teasing only, still nsfw because of heavy mentions of hard ons and contact with private areas, public teasing

JIYAN:

While Jiyan was talking with Ganxue (NPC) to buy some new recipes to make food, when all of a sudden you brushed your hand against his crotch area

Jiyan looks at you with wide eyes, thinking you'd accidentally touched him

But he was wrong, cause everytime he kept talking he would stop midway, your touches were getting stronger each time it makes contact with him

Before you knew it, he's grabbing you by the wrist to stop you from going on

You just know that when he finishes buying the recipe he's going to drag you to a secluded area and have you suck him off

-----

GESHU LIN:

You and Geshu Lin would be strolling around Jinzhou, until you decided to tug on his arm, forcing him to lean down and lend his ear to you

Thats when you start whispering naughty things, telling him how much you miss his cock and how you would drag him to the nearest alleyway to suck him off

You watch his ears turn red, looking at him glaring at you with a hint of arousal behind his eyes

You'd start skipping happily, knowing fully well you were gonna get it when the two of you get back home

Not that it was a problem or anything, you needed Geshu Lin to get riled up during sex anyways

-----

YUANWU:

The two of you would be sitting in a restaurant, facing each other with the table in between you until you decided to take of your shoe and lift it up to rub on Yuanwu's leg

He'll stop drinking his tea just to look at you with wide eyes, swallowing hard when he feels your foot going up higher to his thigh

Before your foot makes it to his crotch, he'll grab your ankle with his hand, but you surprise him when you rested your foot onto his thigh and raised your other leg

You'd hear Yuanwu let out a grunt before he covers his mouth, ears turning red as he glances at your grinning face

Yuanwu will definitely remember to teach you basic manners in public when you two get home

-----

MORTEFI:

You asked him if it was okay to watch him work and he agreed, but he didn't expect you to be so needy with him and distract him during his work

You'd tease him and tell him how hot he was when he's serious, and he'd flash you tiny stares to quiet you down

But of course, the teasing and touching doesn't stop

The way you test his patience has him sighing and putting his hand to his head

If you keep up this behavior, he might just have to drag you into his office and punish you

-----

AALTO:

You'd think you have the upperhand when you tease and touch him every place you two have been to

You would watch him blush and laugh in embarrassment, and when you start getting super intimate with him, he suddenly pulls a 180 on you

He goes from letting you touch him in public to him teasing you instead, making you learn your lesson and reminding you that whatever you do he can do

Though it kinda backfires since the two of you start feeling turned on in public

The two of you will definitely be busy later

-----

CALCHARO:

It took you some courage to want to tease him, since you knew how he would get when he's too excited

But seeing his reactions were so fun, like how he would blush while covering his face with his arm while his eyebrows furrowed, he was super cute throughout the entire time you would touch him on his sensitive spots

You might've crossed the line when you groped his ass though, it seemed like out of everything you did, the thing that turned him on the most was you groping his ass

You would tease him, but it seems like you're being dragged back home at the moment

-----

SCAR:

He loves it when you act mischevious around him, and it especially turns him on when you tease him in public

It's almost like he looks forward to it, but of course, Scar has his limits.

He'd be especially annoyed if you keep touching him only to leave him alone with a hard on, but his face is still plastered with a smile

He'll lure you in like a wolf on it's prey, acting sweet and nice with you until he gets you back for your little indecent behavior

And he won't stop until he sees you drooling and crying for mercy

-----

A/N: ty for the request anon! hope i didn't take too long hehe 😚✨️✨️ and im very welcomed to be your oasis 👐👐👐

[lnfours]

childhood bestfriend! Reader baking cookies with Lando for their family get together ( their mums are friends) but things take a turn confessions are made and it gets heated 🌶️🍪

childhood best friend!lando will always get me. anything friends to lovers, truly. alsooooo i changed this up a bit and did fewtrell!reader because.. yeah..

cleaning out my inbox

every summer, your families got together for their annual party. it had been a tradition ever since you, max and lando were kids, a thing you looked forward to the most every summer.

and you had always had a crush on lando, always falling for those stupidly adorable dimples and the way his whole face lights up whenever you ask him about one of his interests. but no matter how you felt about him, you knew it was never going to be reciprocated. he simply saw you as his best friend's little sister, one of his best friends, nothing more. nothing less. and it was a fact you knew you were going to have to live with.

but right now, as he stood shirtless in the kitchen, reading the recipe on his phone, it was all you could think about. his curls still wet from your trip down to the beach earlier this morning, his sunkissed skin on full display in front of you. it was hard not to be distracted.

"do you know if we have chocolate chips?" he looked up from his phone, his eyes meeting yours. you hummed, turning towards the pantry behind you. he took the opportunity to take you in, smiling as you stood on your tippy toes to reach the bag on the top shelf.

you turned around, a smile on your face with the bag in your hand. he laughed softly, "perfect,"

he wasn't only talking about the fact that you had chocolate chips.

the both of you gathered the rest of the ingredients, making small talk, "so, anything new with you?" you asked, smirking and playfully rubbing against his shoulder, "any girlfriends?"

he laughed, shaking his head as he poured in the flour, "no," he looked over at you, watching as you concentrated on pouring the right amount of vanilla extract, "you? any boyfriends i need to know about?"

you shook your head, laughing softly with him, "no, no one's into me,"

"oh c'mon, i doubt that."

"i'm serious!" you laughed, "they all avoid me like the plague!"

"well, they're idiots," he shrugged, "they don't know what they're missing out on."

you looked over at him, taking in his side profile. he wore a small smile as he noticed you from the corner of his eye, still busying himself with the cookies in front of you.

"if you say so."

"i do," he said, wiping his hands on his sweatpants before speaking again, "alright, i think we're ready for the mixer."

you nodded, plugging it in and handing it to him, "do you know how to use it?"

"it's a mixer, it can't be that hard,"

"yeah, but you have to start it on the-"

he didn't let you finish your warning before he turned it on, the max speed making the whisk ends send cookie dough flying all around you. with a yelp, you reached over, turning it off before it could make a total mess.

"-slow setting." you finished, letting out a sigh, looking over at him as he held back a laugh. you bit onto your lower lip, suppressing your own laugh before it became impossible and the two of you were laughing next to each other.

"this is why they never let you in the kitchen," you said, starting to pick pieces of the dough off your clothes.

"i think you're right," he said, wiping himself off. he noticed the small piece of dough that had landed in your hair, speaking softly, "wait, c'mere,"

you didn't have a chance to react before he was reaching towards your face, lifting your chin up to let him get the small piece. you sucked in a nervous breath, the feeling of his hand on your chin and being this close to him making your stomach do flips.

he looked down at you, tossing the small ball onto the counter with the others as he met your eyes, "got it."

you nodded, breathing out softly, "thanks,"

he nodded back at you, swallowing as he took in your face. his eyes scanning over your features, the glow from the sun making you look heavenly. he was captivated, and there was no denying it now.

he moved the stray piece of hair from your face, his hand coming back to cup your cheek. you weren't sure when he got so close, his lips nearly touching yours.

you breathed his name softly, followed by a whispered, "please,"

he was happy to oblige, wasting no more time in placing his lips on yours. you kissed him back, your hands moving to wrap around his neck. he deepened the kiss, moving the both of you as you pressed up against the edge of the counter. the hand that wasn't holding your cheek grabbed at your hip, his mouth moving away from yours as he breathed against your lips, "y/n,"

your noses bumped as you tried to regain the air in your lungs. he didn't have to say it, you knew it now. you were the only one he wanted to be with, and you the same with him.

"i know," you mumbled, bringing him closer to you by his neck, "you don't have to say it, just please keep kissing me."

he smiled, dipping his head back down towards your lips, "gladly,"

[hannieehaee]

Can I request a Mingyu fic with food play ? Him with the meringue in nana tour had me thinking wild thoughts ..

18+ / mdi

content: established relationship, mentions of sucking fingers, afab reader, mentions of eating out, nipple play (f receiving), usage of food in the bedroom (whipped cream), smut, this is purely foreplay, etc.

wc: 469

a/n: mingyu would 100% do this convince me otherwise

masterlist

having a foodie for a boyfriend came with many perks.

for one, he was always cooking for you – even in situations where you'd already eaten yet another meal prepared by him. he would always be willing to teach you how to make any recipe. he was amazing at picking out the best restaurants to go to no matter what side of the world you found yourselves in. and lastly, he knew very versatile ways in which to use food.

that last point would've come with some judgment from you before having met mingyu, but ever since he introduced such a sensual act into the bedroom, you'd be lying if you said you hadn't become a fan.

now, mingyu wouldnt just carelessly bring dishes of food to your bedroom and eat them out of you, no. he had far more finesse than that. this was also not a regular occurrence, but more so reserved for special occasions.

sometimes mingyu would simply play around with you while cooking, feeding you food straight from his fingers as he watched you lick and suck every drop from them, his eyes filled with lust.

other times, it'd go further than that, leading him to fuck you in the kitchen, no more food involved.

when food actually made it's way into the bedroom, however, mingyu it'd usually be in the form of small pastries such as chocolate covered strawberries or whipped cream.

today, mingyu had chosen to have some fun with the whipped cream.

mingyu liked to get creative with it, going through the entirety of foreplay with you before finally getting you fully nude in order to really play with you.

kissing every inch of your body was already fun on its own, but it was extra entertaining when mingyu could see the goosebumps form on your skin from the cold temperature of the whipped cream, disappearing the moment his warm tongue licked its way through the sweet cream.

your most sensitive spots would be targeted by the cream, making mingyu chuckle devilishly at your gasps of surprise any time he licked or sucked at your skin. your nipples were one of the biggest victims of this, suffering through an endless loop of whipped cream followed by his insatiable mouth sucking at the sensitive buds.

eventually he'd make his way down to your cunt, chuckling at your shudders in anticipation.

he wasnt dumb, knowing he shouldnt actually get any food on your cunt. so he'd opt for licking anywhere but your cunt, causing you to grow more and more desperate at his touch.

this would go on endlessly, up until mingyu himself grew too frustrated at the close proximity of your cunt. the night would end with mingyu throwing the can of whipped cream aside to finally devour your pussy with no other distractions.

[its-your-mind]

okay so like. Kim dokja is definitely allergic to tomatoes, right? (see: this post) Like he thinks he just doesn’t like them but it’s because they taste like burning? Spicy fruits? Leave a film in his mouth for hours? Like he has no idea why everyone Fucking Loves This Fruit cuz it Fucking Sucks

anyway hc that it’s ysg who finally actually figures out somethings wrong bc. yjh has taken it as a Personal Challenge to sneak tomatoes into Something and get Kim Dokja to say he likes it, except no matter how buried in a recipe they are, kdj immediately notices and like. throws a fork at him. one time after the fork misses yjh (he is very fast and has honed all of his senses. the only forks that hit him are the ones he lets hit him. (nothing goes over my head. my reflexes are too fast. I would catch it.) omg wait he WOULD say that though okay anyway) and sticks into the wall, handle out, kdj just starts ranting about how he just doesn’t understand why yjh uses tomatoes in everything when they’re like. spicier than chili peppers, and there is an ALMOST FULL jar of gochujang RIGHT THERE that he could use to achieve the spice and it would be WAY BETTER AND EASIER. Cuz tomatoes don’t even add flavor to food, they just overpower anything they’re in! and they leave such a horrible gross film in your mouth and you can’t even make it go away with water and…

and then yjh is like. hold the fuck up. is that how all my food with tomatoes tastes to you??? and kdj is like. yes???? Is it not supposed to??????? why do you put tomatoes in it then?!?!??!?? and yjh is like CUZ THEYRE SWEET AND PROVIDE A GOOD FLAVOR BALANCER TO SPICE????????? and kdj is like BALANCE????????!?!?!! and before they start fuckign. attacking each other with swords. ysg is like wait Dokja-ssi have tomatoes always tasted like that to you? both cooked and raw tomatoes? and kdj is like. ??? yes??? do they not taste like that to you? and ysg is like no and I don’t think they’re supposed to. and lsh is like hold on. have you never been allergy tested before? and kdj’s like ??????? No????? and so she’s like well we can go to my office tomorrow but it sounds like you’re allergic to tomatoes. and kdj’s like what? the fuck?? SO THEYRE NOT SUPPOSED TO TASTE LIKE POISON meanwhile in the background yjh is having a full internal breakdown bc apparently he has been going OUT OF HIS WAY to feed the love of his life something that is ACTIVELY HARMING HIM and so when kdj turns around to gloat like hA I tOLD you tomatoes were awfu— why are you hugging me WhY aRE YOU CrYING and then before yjh can say ANYTHING he’s like NO WAIT ITS FINE ACTUALLY I CAN EAT THE TOMATOES I DONT WANT YOU TO HAVE TO GO OUT OF YOUR WAY TO MAKE ME SPECIAL ALLERGY FOOD and everyone is just staring at him agape or facepalming bc ofc he would complain and gripe and moan when it was just a personal preference but as SOON AS IT WAS AN ACTIVE DANGER TO HIS LIFE he insists that it’s fine. Yjh just glares at him until he trails off mid word. and then yjh turns around to grab everything out of the fridge that has tomatoes in it but lgy and sys are WAY AHEAD OF HIM and have already started a bonfire in the yard and are just hurling every tomato-touched food item in the house into the flames. tomatoes never cross the kimcom threshold again. hsy finds all of this fucking hilarious until she realizes they’ll never be allowed to bring pizza into the house again (don’t look at me like that yoo joonghyuk it’s Selena Kim’s fault you shouldn’t have let her into the group regression if you didn’t want her american food tastes to spread)

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

For a request:

Maybe a rescue fic with ghost, price, or soap? One where they rescue their non military fem s/o? I know you’ve written some already and they are so good but I EAT THEM UP EVERY TIME and love that trope so much!!!!!!

Hurt/comfort is my drug I swear

I know that’s pretty vague so maybe I’ll think of more eventually but that’s what I’ve got for now.

I love your writing!

- 🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏻‍♀️

None Lacking Sins

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

Synopsis: It started with the incident at the grocery store and then built to the hidden gun in the nightstand and a quick, frantic, call to your boyfriend.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: Implied stalking, violence & blood, angst, protective Soap, suggestive language and conversations, implications of wanting a kid, vulgar language, fluffy banter, hurt/comfort, canon typical actions, edited in the middle of the night

A/N: I've been in a Soap mood lately, tbh. I think I'm going to flip-flop uploads for my Gaz series and Requests too...anyways. Enjoy, anon! You can never go wrong with a rescue fic!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*  

You called him for the first time when you were at the store, picking out dinner and asking what he wanted for a welcome home meal.

“Well,” his sly voice made you roll your eyes, but a smile still blossomed over your lips. “If you want me to be rash, Bonnie, I’d say that I wouldn't mind a good bite out of your–”

“Johnny, you finish that sentence, you’re not going to get anything besides butter on toast. Give me a recipe before it gets dark out.” Veiled glee was obvious from your tone, and the heat on your face could all but be heard over the line. Two months apart had made you both eager to be in each other's presence. 

Picking up a box of pasta, you flip it over and check the price, sticking to your budget and tilting the phone parallel to your chin. A deep chuckle meets your ears, and your chest feels light as it pierces your lungs. 

Your boyfriend was off in Australia this deployment—he’d been complaining about the heat nonstop on those few and far between video calls the two of you shared. While it was a step-up to know where exactly Johnny was this go around, the prospect of his job still made you incredibly nervous. There was never a time you could remember when he came home without a new cut or scar; bruises were all but guaranteed. 

Sucking down a soothing breath, you place the pasta into your cart and fix the phone’s position. The Scot was coming home in a day or so, you wanted to make him feel at home again. Destress.

You’ll see him before you know it. There’s no need to worry.

“Bit snappy, then, eh? Oh, alright.” The man huffs good-heartedly, and you hear the springs of those thin barracks-bed mattresses as his large frame shifts. Johnny lets off a soft sigh before continuing. You listen intently, leaning onto the handlebar ahead of you. “What about a nice plate ‘O that one you always make—hell—the…the one with the Pollock and cabbage.”

You blink through a laugh, shaking your head and pushing yourself off to go find the needed ingredients. The dish wasn’t easy to make, in fact, it took a helluva lot of time, but you didn’t mind in the slightest when it came to cooking for Johnny. He deserved it. 

“Hey, now,” He teases, smirking to himself, “What’s so funny over there, Dearie? You makin’ fun of me?”

“I would never dream of it, oh great and wondrous, Mr. MacTavish!” You huff, fake serious, as you place a box of cookies into the cart and pass a few strangers who raise an eyebrow at your conversation. A man passes by with a blue cap on, and you swerve the cart to move around him while tossing back a frown. You soon continue on like nothing happened, pulling back the sense of security from the man over the line. “Do you want mashed potatoes with that as well? Wine?”

Johnny groans, “Hey, you’re the one that asked me!” 

Divulging into giggles, you make your way around the store and stock up, holding a light conversation about how he and the rest of the boys were doing. 

“Ghost told me to let you know he appreciated the book you lent him, said he’d get it back to ya as soon as he’s able.” The Scot comments, and a hum makes its way from you as you head to the self-checkout. 

“Well, that’s good. I said he would like it – the bastard’s so tight-lipped about what he enjoys it was hard to nail-down a genre.” A chortle sounds off when you gather the chilled pollock and scan it; the phone was held against your shoulder to your ear. “High Fantasy for the win, I guess.” 

“I should get the man to read ‘The Way of Kings’ next time—form a little book club, y’know? Get all the boys in on it like some old ladies.” It was adorable how cute Johnny sounded, like a kid on Christmas. “Stemin’ Jesus, could you picture that, Bonnie?”

“I’d pay to see you pitch that, Dear.” A cheeky tone leaks through. “Price would laugh straight into your face.” 

“Please, the old man doesn’t know how to laugh….He’d just puff cigar smoke in my face and tell me to fuck off.” 

“As I said—I’d pay to see it.” Your boyfriend grumbles under his breath as you place the paper bags into your cart, the contents heavy, and grab your receipt with quick fingers. “Gaz would definitely be in for it, though.”

“I don’t doubt that. Anything beats playing cards for weeks straight, aye?” Your hand can finally grip the phone once more, and you sigh contently as the strained position of your neck finally rights itself. 

You’re about to answer but slow your pace with a scrunched look of confusion as you exit. 

Passing through the front doors, you suddenly get a strange sensation in the back of your mind to turn around. The hairs along your arms stand up as a breeze passes the steadily chilling dark sky, but the way the shiver ran down your spine wasn’t due to cold. Lips thinning, you spare a glance over your shoulder and look along the brightly lit grocery store as its windows leave cascading rays of light over the sun-bleached concrete. The black asphalt of the parking lot is hard under your feet.

There are a handful of other patrons at the checkouts—mothers with children and others buying quick meals for dinner—but none are out of the ordinary. 

You huff and roll your shoulders.

Maybe the day’s just getting to me.

“Bonnie,” Johnny’s slightly concerned voice brings you blinking back, turning your head back to the sparsely lit parking lot and realizing you had stopped walking completely. Your hand was sweaty like you’d just run somewhere. Fixing your hold on the device, your boyfriend continues, “...Everything alright? You’ve gone all quiet over there.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you laugh dismissively, trudging forward to your car, “I just got the weirdest feeling right outside the grocery store.” 

The cart makes a loud rumbling sound as it goes over loose rocks and the bumpy texture of the asphalt, the metal rattling loudly so you have to strain your ears to hear Johnny’s next words. 

“What kind of feeling?” His drowned-out voice was so serious that it shocked you—you’d only ever heard him use a tone like this when he had briefly talked about nightmares that had woken him up in your shared bed. 

The Scot’s words were monotone, slow, and even if the sound of the cart’s wheels was raging all around you and making your skull rattle, you’d still swear you would identify that tone over a hurricane. It made your gut churn. 

“Really, it’s probably nothing,” you play off with a tense shrug he can’t see, coming to a stop at your car and reaching into your pocket for your keys. “I just got a chill.” 

Your eyes look around before you open the trunk, biting into your lip at the long shadows that the tall street lamps give off. Licking over your teeth, you bink dismissively and shake your head, unlocking the vehicle and huffing as you begin loading in your purchases. 

“Anyways,” you try to ignore the hard build of your spine or the way your eyes travel back to the brightly lit store. There wasn’t anyone out here but you and the dead forms of cars, trees off in the distance, and far-off lights of other buildings. You swallow and clear your throat. “I was thinking about getting us a dog.” 

“You’re not gettin’ out of this that—wait, did you say dog?” Across the world in a shitty bed, Johnny’s once concerned eyes widen, jaw going slack. “No way in Christ’s Hell, Dearie.”

“Oh, come on!” You groan, placing the second to last bag into the car and tuning your back to the street, throwing out your hand. “It doesn’t have to be a big dog—just one I can go on walks with and keep me company. I know you have a bad past with them, Love, but I just want someone to help not make the house so empty when you’re gone.” 

Your voice slides off near the end of the sentence, and you try not to sound so sullen. Johnny frowns as he stares into the far wall of the barracks over the heads of sleeping men, itching at the back of his neck. It was no secret that the Scot wasn’t particularly fond of canines—his encounters with them were almost never pleasant unless he knew the handler. 

But…

“I’ll think it over, eh, Bonnie?” He relents, sighing, and he thinks he hears snickers from a dark form in the distant corner. The Sergeant glares over at it and continues with a pang of internal guilt about how lonely you must feel most of the time. “Promise…but you’re more likely to get a cat dressed in a suit than a mangy mutt anytime soon.” 

You laugh at the attempt of a lighthearted joke, closing the trunk with a roll of your eyes. A breeze goes by and your arms erupt into shivers, clothes not enough to keep out the chill. 

“I’ll take it.” 

“Hm, you know,” Johnny smirks, rubbing at the sleep in his eyes and grunting out huskily, “there’s another way to make sure the house won’t be all quiet when I’m gone.”

“Keep it in your pants, MacTavish. You’re not even here yet.” Smiling through the heat of your cheeks, the skin of your cheeks glows; your body rolls with heat. “Save it for tomorrow.”

“What, am I gettin’ you all worked up over there?” He hums, and you grab your cart, pushing it into one of the specific areas where someone would grab it in the morning. “‘Cause I have no problem with waitin’, Dearie, all the more perfect when I get to be with ya.’”

“You wish, handsome.” Walking back to the slight rumbling of your car, you speak through tilted lips and completely miss the form walking up beside you. “I think that—”

“Excuse me?” 

Yelping, you nearly drop your phone to the floor as it slips out of your startled grip; heart jerking at the sudden intrusion into an intimate conversation. Swiftly turning around you spot the same man as before—the one with the blue cap that had passed by quite rudely in the store. His strong face looks sheepish.

Johnny quickly calls your name through the line, and you let off a reassurance before tilting the device down.

“Holy hell, man, give a girl a warning next time, yeah?” Chuckling weakly to push back tension and the twisting of your intestines, you notice the stranger’s tall frame is covered in a heavy jacket. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah, actually,” He’s not outwardly alarming to look at, the man, with his loose body gestures and controlled tone. “Sorry, but I was just wondering if you could lend me a hand. I found a kitten under a van back there,” he points, and you look over to the far corner of the parking lot. Sure enough, there was a large van surrounded by two black cars. Your eyes narrow on the scene, already getting a prickly feeling. “Do you have any food that might bring it out? Or maybe you’d be willing to reach under and grab the little bastard?” 

The stranger laughs and continues with a jerking of his shoulders. You watch every movement with an upticking pulse, fingers tight over the phone as Johnny listens with growing worry. 

The Sergeant's dark eyebrows pull tight, and he stands like he could run out the door to you; jaw tight and muscles wound.

“Put me on speaker.” You decline silently. Better not to get a hotheaded and protective Scot involved when he was thousands of miles away.

“Sorry,” Clearing your throat, you take a step back, attempting a friendly smile. “I have to get home to my husband.” It wasn’t the first time you’d had to use the spouse card to get away from creeps, and it won't be the last. Worked better than just the boyfriend title, honestly. And there was something about this man’s eyes that didn’t sit right with you. “Work night and all, you understand?”

“He left yet?” Johnny asks, gruff as his accent gets stronger. “Else I’m callin’ the store and sending security out to you.” 

“It shouldn’t take a long time,” the man begs and you take another slow step back to the car door, pupils going tiny. Breaths shallow. “You’ll be back to your…husband, in a few minutes. I’d hate to leave the poor guy all alone.” 

“Sorry.” You say again, firmer. “No.” 

Not wasting any time, you open the car and jump inside, wrenching it closed once more and pressing the lock. Breathing heavily, you stick the keys into the ignition, missing a couple of times, and look into the side mirrors to spy on the tall shadow that hovers like a plague. 

“Sweetheart? Hey?” Johnny calls out your name as you force the car to start driving away, face tight and limbs shaking. “Hey, are you alright?” 

The man has half the sense to wake up Price, but with the stirring bodies around him, there’s half a chance the Captain already knows something’s off. Johnny hadn’t bothered to check his noise level when the uncomfortableness seeped from you over to him. What kind of a man approaches a woman near dark and asks a question like that? The action didn’t sit right with the Scot. 

Johnny’s body hums with energy—volatile rage keeps his heart in a tight fist with a deep seething hatred of not being with you to help force back the freaks in person. He wasn’t above getting into someone's face if the situation called for it; after a couple of outings to less-than-nice pubs, all it took was a few nervous glances from you nowadays for him to create a barrier out of his own flesh.

“I’m okay,” you whisper to him, biting at your lips and peeling back flesh. “It’s all good. I-I’m on the road already.” 

A great weight falls from the man in the form of a sigh. He slowly sits back down on the mattress, lips thinning and slightly shaking his head. His free hand comes up to rub over his cheek. 

“Good. That’s good…” He snaps out of his concerned stupor quickly, but the fast beating of his heart does anything but slow. “You’re okay.” 

It wasn’t worded as a question, maybe more of a reassurance, but it helped you immensely. Your tension lessened at the comforting sound of Scottish drawl and deep, silver, voice. But you wanted him to wrap his arms around you; gaze into those cerulean orbs.

Tomorrow.

“Keep on the line until I get home?” You ask feebly, not able to resist looking in the mirrors as you turn out of the parking lot. 

The blue-capped stranger was still standing there, and one of the black cars in the far corner had turned its headlights on. A deep dread overtakes your ribs like you’d just gotten out of something very, very, bad. A sense of a lingering morality stays in between your ribs.

“‘Course. Wouldn’t be doin’ anything else, Bonnie.” Johnny utters, glaring at the floor. “I’ll be ‘ere the whole time.”

It wasn’t fair that he was unable to be there with you—never before had the constraints from his job hit him full strength in the chest like this. If he can’t protect the ones he loves back on the home field, then what was the point of the Task Force in the first place? 

By the time you get home after taking the fastest route, you quickly gather everything from the back and shuffle inside, pulse still racing. You lock the door behind you and take a deep breath, closing your eyes. 

Johnny’s soft breath over the call was like a lullaby, right in your ear as if he was beside you in bed. Oh, you missed his soft snores more than anything. Your gaze goes glossy, but the tears are held back stubbornly. 

As if sensing your turmoil, your boyfriend speaks lowly. 

“Y’know, I bet the rest of the boys would really love it if we kept ‘em over for a drink and a bite when we all get back. I can whip up something quick on the grill and you can take a breather, eh?” He speaks so softly it almost makes the tears worse, heart palpitating. 

You wetly laugh and place a hand to your mouth, standing in the dark foyer with groceries on the floor and a primal fear slowly leaving you. The familiar scents of charcoal and birch wood from the Scots hair product are stuck into the very walls of this shared dwelling, along with the scuffs on the floor from play-wrestling during movies; a light that needed to be replaced due to Johnny accidentally running straight into it at two am. He had thought an intruder had broken in, but it was just a bird that had snuck in through an open window.

The signs of a well-lived and loved home. 

“But you wanted pollock,” you grumble with a hidden smile and burning ears, pushing the tip of your shoe into the front rug.

Johnny beams and goes to lie back down, putting a hand behind his head against the pillow.

“Well, now I’m makin’ burgers. Guess you’re just going to have to sit back and watch my fabulous arse from the porch, yeah, Dearie? Don’t burn a hole into them, now, they’re the only pair I’ve got, and I know how much you like ‘em.”

“Shut up.” 

“I’ll even wear that apron you got me—what was it you said it did,” the cheeky Scot smirks, all teeth and crinkled eyelids, and hears your complaints get louder as your mind flies away from what had happened almost immediately. “Made me look like I should be in a porno? Hell, if you were in it with me, I’d not complain ‘bout it. Steamin’ Jesus, I’d let you do horrible things to me, Dearie.”

From somewhere in the barracks a low groan echoes out and Johnny snaps his hand down to stifle his loud laughter as you bark at him. 

“MacTavish!” 

Great bouts of laughter leave everyone glaring from atop pillows and from over fingers stuffed into ears; some even get up and gather blankets, leaving the barracks room entirely.

In your foyer, your body blazes with heat like you’d been set on fire, a hand placed over your eyes and a treacherous grin on your mouth. 

“Keep your voice down, you absolute arsepiece!”

“Aye—! That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell ya!” 

“Johnny!”

—

The second time you called him was out of pure curiosity, only a few hours before your lover was scheduled to come home and cook for you and his Task Force. Around six o'clock. 

“When was our postbox all scratched up?” Your thumb runs over the black numbers of the sequence, blinking with wrinkled skin as you take a glance at the neighbors’ and frown. No one else's was like that. “I thought you said you compromised with the local kids and would give them money for sweets so they would stop messing with our stuff?” 

“Little fiends were sucking me dry!” Johnny huffs, “No way the devils would pass up more sugar and do something like that. What’s it look like, then? A few stray rocks manage to dent it?”

Your lips release a sigh and you pick up your mail with an annoyed grunt, closing and locking the cubby as you reply. “No way, it looks like someone took a knife to it.” Clicking your tongue, you shake your head. “God, things have just been going wrong lately.”

Shuffling his feet over the tarmac and hearing the plane engines die down behind him, Johnny takes a glance back. Price was standing at the top of the C17 arms crossed and head tilted—the Scot could imagine the raised eyebrow almost immediately. 

He grimaces and holds up a finger, walking a few more steps away as Gaz leaves the hull with his bags slung over his shoulders. 

“I can’t talk any longer, Bonnie, Price’ll wring me for not helpin’ unload the gear. He’s damn near skinnin’ me already.”

You chuckle, “Tell him I said ‘hello’ and not to damage the face.” 

“Oh, you’re a horror, you are, Dearie.” 

Quick declarations of love and see you soons were exchanged before the connection was cut, and your feet carried you back into the house. Your phone and the mail went to sit on the tiny hallways table, shoes tossed onto the plastic mat sitting on the floor with a small thump. 

Sighing, you rub over your eyes, thinking over if it was worth calling the post office or just trying to fix the scratches yourself. 

“I think we have some paint in the garage…” You trail off. 

Ultimately, you just pushed that to the back burner. Johnny was coming home. Your lips peeled into a large smile, and you’re rushing off to get into a nice outfit for the rest of Task Force who was coming a bit later than your boyfriend. Thoughts of finally being able to be picked up by your boyfriend's strong arms were all-consuming, being held into a broad chest and digging your nails to the dip of his spine. 

Just being able to be around the mohawked-man was a blessing that you’d never take for granted. 

You settled on a nice top and casual pants—you’d met the others before, so there was no need to go overboard. Smoothing your clothes down, you enter the living room and go to open the curtains, letting the light of the interior spread to the small lawn and the street. Humming under your breath, the vehicle outside doesn’t catch your attention immediately; the black metal is just another parked entity sitting still. 

When you do pause, your curtains half-opened, the delayed shock makes you lose precious time as you stare slack-jawed at one of the twin cars from yesterday at the parking lot. Your fingers clench into the fabric in a sudden moment of frozen shock. As if a mythical creature had just run past your field of view, the parting of your lips is instinctual before the widening of your eyes. 

A still second passes before you’re sprinting to the front door—locking it and snatching your phone. Heart pounding, you make a dash to the bedroom, dialing Johnny with fear-tight pupils. 

He had told you if there was ever an emergency to call him right away, he’d get there faster than any police officer; for the record, you believed that wholeheartedly. Johnny was more loyal than a dog in a pack, once someone raised the alarm the Sergeant was locked in. 

Rushing into the bedroom, you trip over the tossed covers but right yourself as the dialing tone sounds out, heavy breathing making your lungs hurt. You open the nightstand table and dig under a collection of books, hand meeting the smooth metal of an M9 pistol. 

Putting the phone on speaker, you throw it onto the mattress.

Legally, you shouldn’t even have this—while Johnny had been teaching you to shoot, you didn’t have a license for it yet. But he’d insisted on leaving you behind with something to defend yourself with.

The confused voice of your lover sounds over the open space. “Jesus, Bonnie, you miss me that much? It cannae ‘ave been more than ten minutes—”

“The car from yesterday is outside the house.” You throw the books to the floor and hear them make a clatter just as you pull out a box of ammunition. Taking out the gun’s magazine, you load bullets with a violently shaking hand. Some hit the ground with a metallic ping, but you pay little attention, just blinking back anxious tears and a harsh focus on the sounds of the front door handle being jimmied.

“I…what?” Johnny’s voice gets heavier, demanding with a snarl trapped in the back of his throat. 

Standing stationary in the doorway Base—about a twenty-minute drive from home, the man’s heart suddenly jumps in his breast. Did he hear you right? Behind him, Ghost slows to a stop at the now blocked opening, watching with narrowed eyes; a large rifle slung over his shoulder and a carry bag in his arm. Johnny’s shoulders wind tight, feet parted as he suddenly turns on his heels and takes off back the way he came in, the phone still at his ear where the Lieutenant knew you were on the call.

“What the fuck?!” Ghost’s skeletal head follows after and pointedly notices the Scots lack of care for how his bags hit the ground but keeps the pistol holstered at his thigh and the combat knife strapped to his upper shoulder. 

“Johnny?” He calls out, but only the wind answers him. “The hell are you off to?!” The gargantuan man sends a glance over to Price who was watching just as intently, lids narrowed. Gaz cleared his throat.

“....Shouldn’t we follow him? Sounds pretty serious.” 

Price sighs, taking a moment to watch Soap sprint to the main building and shove past other soldiers and staff. He grunts.

“Move light.” 

The phone call was filled with heavy breathing and hurried orders. 

Your boyfriend was running you down the basics of firing at a moving target as the sound of pounding at the front door became more hurried.

“It’s not like a stationary target—when someone’s runnin’ at ya, they're gonna be moving quick and you’re not going to be able to fire if you don’t mean it!” 

“Okay, okay,” you mutter with a shaky inhalation, loading the M9’s magazine and clicking off the safety. “What the hell do they want with me?” The whispered question is more for you than it is for anyone else, but the answer from the sprinting Scot startles you. 

At that exact moment, the pounding of a fist stops completely.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re gonna fire at the first bastard that comes down that hallway. We’ll ask the questions later.” You hear a car door opening and a yell from Johnny’s side, soon the clammer of grunting breaths an exclamation of ‘hurry the fuck up!’

“I—”

“If you need to, leave through the window and go to the neighbors. Take cover in the foliage and slip away to the back alley.” Johnny never spoke like this to you—clipped and deathly serious. But now that you think about it, as you stay frozen and barricaded in the bedroom, if he spoke any differently you’d probably break down. “Do you copy?”

This was Sergeant MacTavish, and damn him if anything came between that man and the people he cared about. 

He barks your name, “Do you copy?!” 

“Yeah,” the gun shakes in your grip, but nonetheless you hold it at your hip and turn your eyes to the window. It would be easier to leave, you think. You’re not trained for this! “I–I think I’m going to—”

The front door’s window is broken with a shattering of glass. You rush to the phone and turn off the speaker, afraid that the sound would immediately tell these people where you were. Loud shouts flow into the foyer and spread like venom under the crack of the thin barrier separating you and the intruders. 

“Spread out and find her!”

“Yes, Sir!” 

Sir? You ask, eyes snapping this way and that as Johnny is dead silent on the other side. You think you hear the slam of a foot to the pedal, but you can’t be sure. Fuck, there was so much going on, you didn’t know what to do.

“Screw this, I’m going out the fucking window.” You gasp out, lungs tight and skin sweaty, you turn on the safety on the gun and stuff it into your belt. 

One-handed, you unlatch the lock and strain your ears, hearing feet getting closer. Grunting, you shove the heavy frame up and try to stop the ringing in your ears. Whoever these people in your house were—they were professionals. They had patience; studied your intellect with the trick in the parking lot and followed you home so they could mark your postbox number as a reminder of your address. What the hell was happening? 

Just as you’re about to make the small drop into the flower bed, a creak echoes from behind the bedroom door. You freeze in place, one foot dangling into the backyard. 

Breathing slowly, your eyes lock to the deep shadow that spreads like two distorted poles as the large feet face the very place you’d holed up. As delicately as you’re able with an award-setting tremor in your gut, you place the phone down onto the window sill; Johnny’s loud and worried voice dims as all attention moves to self-preservation. You’re just about to reach for your gun when the door busts off its hinges. 

Starling, and before your hands can find purchase, you’re tumbling backward—out of the house entirely with a stifled shout of alarm. Slamming to the ground and crushing flowers in the process, you have no time to think about the pain going up your spine or at the base of your skull before you’re scrambling for the M9. 

Just as someone peeks out from the window, face covered and holding an assault rifle, you’re firing three shots in rapid succession as you don’t even remember flicking off the safety. 

Two shots miss entirely, but on the last and final press of the trigger, as your arms catch the recoil, it connects. 

A comment is cut short as blood explodes in a great wave of velocity, coating the house upwards almost to the shingled roof. The body slumps, weight bringing it down to hang limp over the frame.

Wide-eyed, you still hold the shaking gun in the air, muzzle smoking, breathing fast through your mouth. Had you just…

Your stomach bunched, acid traveling up your throat to pool under your tongue. Perhaps you would have thrown up at that moment, the setting reality that you’d just shot someone in the head like an anvil in your pounding skull. But the barking voices from inside the house snap you back. 

Gasping down the breaths you realized you hadn’t been taking, your wobbly feet dart to shove you up like a newborn deer as sprinting bodies close in on the porch’s sliding door. God, you could only imagine what Johnny was thinking. 

Bolting out of your backyard fence, you remember your lover’s orders and run as fast as you’re able to the neighbor's open yard, using the darkening sky to help cover you. Cursing under your breath and thinking over all of the ways this should have already gone wrong, you wipe at the tears cascading down your cheeks. 

Don’t think about it—just get away.

It wasn’t long before you were down the alleyway, feet weak and lungs burning. There was a stickiness to the back of your scalp, blood, undoubtedly, from an injury caused by the fall.

It’s a damn miracle I didn’t break anything. 

What would you have done then? Just let those people take or kill you? You shiver at the idea and force yourself to go faster. Darting around a corner, your feet skid to a quick halt. 

The barrel of a gun was pointed directly at your face. 

“Had a feeling you’d be slippery.” It was the voice of the man from the parking lot—the man with the blue cap. Your face jerks to an imitation of confined horror and unease at the same eyes boring into you. He was dressed in gear like the rest of the men now exiting your house to hunt you down. The stranger shifts his feet and you flinch. “Drop the gun, Sweetheart.” 

“Who the fuck are you?” You find your voice, hissing out. The pistol clatters to the floor as it slips from your grip and you hate how you flinch at the sound. 

“Your boyfriend and his buddies are hard to track down.” Blue Cap huffs, and the tall stature of the man makes you incredibly nervous. Backing up a step instinctually, he follows and smirks. “But I figured the best way to meet him was to find his little bird first—he’d come right to me. Cliche, I know, but you can’t fault me. Works every time.” 

What did this guy want with your Johnny? Gritting your teeth, your fingers shake at your sides, hips tense and ready to run.

“He’ll kill you.” You level, not keen to show this man how disgusting you felt being near him. 

He shuffles up next to you, grabbing the meat of your arm. Trying to jerk away, the barrel of his weapon is shoved into your ribs; gasping, your body goes rigid.

If your heart goes any faster, it’ll break.

“Not if I threaten to kill you first.” Forcing you forward, you glare and feel the urge to spit in the man’s face. “C’mon, hun.”

“Don’t fucking call me that, freak.” 

“Ooo…fangs. Can’t be surprised, you did shoot one of my men, after all. Not a bad trigger finger, but you do need decent work on your accuracy if you wanna make anything out of it.” Your eyebrows pull in as you’re corralled back out of the alleyway, barrel bruising your skin and blood dripping down your neck. The man’s grip hurts as a strangled whimper falls from your bitten lips. 

Feet scraping over concrete, you’re brought out into the street as neighbors peak out of windows with drawn curtains; phones to their faces. Did these intruders not care about the police? If anything, that made you sweat more. 

“Ride’s waiting.” 

“I’m not getting into that.” Grunting, your eyes are stuck on the black void of the car parked in the street. A menagerie of other armed men stands all over. “Hell no—you can just shoot me now if that’s the case.”

“Don’t tempt me, I can still go after the Sergeant’s dear old mom,” your lungs chill as the man chuckles to himself, looking down at you through dark lashes. “He has a cousin, too, am I right?” 

Rageful tears spark behind your lids as you blink. 

No way it was going to go like this. Where’s Johnny? 

The gun was taken from your ribs as you’re shoved forward. 

“Get in. Now. We’re already behind schedule.” You stare into the interior and clench your fists, lips quivering but jaw clenched. Your Lover’s voice comes to you, sure of himself and laced with stubbornness. 

If you’re ever in trouble, you wait for me, Dearie. I’ll be there ‘fore you know it, ready to defend your honor like the knight in shinin’ armor I am, eh? Why are you laughing…?

Turning back around with every ounce of courage you can muster, you splay your feet and cross your arms.

“No.” The gun is raised to your head, and you want to flinch back in terror but restrain yourself. 

“Get in.” 

“No.” How your voice wasn’t breaking was a question in and of itself, but Johnny had always said you were stubborn like him. Best time to prove him right was with a barrel to your face, apparently.

The stranger’s eyes light with anger, hands clenching over the body of the weapon as the rest of his men stare on in shock. A growl meets air.

“I’m not asking for a third time, Sweetheart—” One loud boom later and you’re ducking down with your hands over your head, ears ringing and body unsteady; a great weight hits the ground right next to you.

The sound of gunfire rattles the world all around the once quiet street, and you think that you and your Lover will have to move after this. No way the neighbors could let all this slide. Looking up, your eyes jump from the corpse spasming near you to the running men, chaos breeding in the lines between shouts and dropping bodies. 

A hand latches into your waist, and you’re being lifted into strong arms moments later. Squealing, your head snaps to the size and meets cerulean blue inlaid in a strong brow line. 

“I’ve got ya.” Your body loses all tension at the accent that you would know anywhere, even in death, a strong grip picking you up and keeping you close to his broad chest. 

Johnny carries you away in the midst of battle as the rest of the 141 get involved, making quick work of the remaining men. Breathing in his scent, you force your face under his chin, feeling the stubble scrape as your fingers dig into flesh. 

He’s here. He’s—he’s right here.

“Don’t worry, Dearie, I’m right here. It’s nearly over, now.” You try to bring him closer as he takes cover behind a wall, pressing his shoulders against the grating stone as he shields you closer to him. Sliding down to the ground.

His eyes snap back and forth, heart rapid. God, he was nearly too late. Johnny presses his nose into your hair as he breathes deeply, watching bodies fall and feeling you shake. Feeling you shiver; now finally able to let everything sink in. 

“Shh,” the Scot mutters, pressing you closer as you whisper his name in a hoarse breath. “You’re alright. I’m ‘ere, Bonnie, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His hands filter over your skin, checking for injuries and feeling over growing bumps from under-the-skin abrasions.

His teeth clench together in hate, hotheadedness taking over for a moment as part of him wants to rush out and pick a few of these bastards off himself. But it’s just not that simple. 

Looking out into the street with serious eyes, the radio attached to his vest sounds off as the last of the firefight ends almost as quickly as it began. 

“Clear.” It was Price. “How is she?” 

Johnny sighs, looking down at you in his hold as he whispers comforting words in quick succession.

“Shaken, but alright…” The reply is muttered as you sniffle, your fingers going to wipe away tears. “She’s—she’s alright.”

Johnny beats you to it as he tries to calm down, large digits tilting your head to the side and studying intently as he swipes them away with a firm thumb and a careful frown. 

“Johnny—” Your eyes stay locked on him as the Scot gets rid of any trace of fear or sadness, calluses burning your skin just as they always did. His gaze flickers to you; lips pulling tight. None of you choose to move, too content with being this close to one another and safe, even if the situation was serious. “I…”

You trail, not even knowing what to say as the wetness of your eyes blurs your vision, body hot, and the back of your skull aching. Your hands go to cup his cheeks. It’s all the words he needs. 

Eyes soft, the Sergeant attempts a weak and worried smile. “I’m so proud of you, Dearie, y’know that? So damn proud.” Your lips quirk, a strained laugh echoing out. A finger pokes the side of your nose. “Hey, I’m serious now. Stop your foolin'.” 

Johnny’s fingers run deep circles into your temples as you trace the lines of his cheeks. 

“Shut up.” You huff, straining against a wide smile. It was easy to push all of this behind you when you were looking at him. He made everything better.

“Hm,” He moves forward and presses his lips to your forehead, quickly going to lay kisses all over your face until giggles spill out from the alleyway to the waiting three. 

Gaz smiles to himself, Price grunts lightly, and Ghost gazes off. 

“I’ll just have to prove to my Bonnie Little Lady that she’s a prime piece of work, then, eh? Smarter; more quick than a fuckin’ recon team,” he leans close and you have to try and shove him away playfully when he starts to squish you against him. Your laughter grows as his scratchy chin nuzzles your neck. “And don’t mind me sayin’ now, but a proper fine pair of tits and arse to go along with the brains of ya, Dearie.”

“MacTavish!” you squeal, “I should call your mother up and explain how you speak to me—that’s vulgar! I know for a fact she didn’t teach you that.”

“Teach me? Oh, now, then, no one could teach me a thing when you’re around. Cannae think a bit; better off talkin’ to a pile of stone.” You punch his solid chest and laugh so hard your face hurts, breath fanning against his neck as his roaming praise continues as if his mind was a bag of water punctured by a knife. “I’m always thinkin’ ‘bout you, my Little Bonnie.” 

The last sentence is quietly muttered into your temple, a kiss pressed tight. He pulls back slightly and feels at the dried blood on your locks, fingers separating to find the scalp. Johnny’s chest rattles in a sigh, hand shaking slightly when he sees it. 

He’d also seen the body on the window sill, though he knows not to mention it.

Christ, you’d had to kill someone. 

The prospect of taking a life was easy to the Scot—some days he felt like he had been born and bred to do just that. It became simple. Elementary. Like his mother could memorize a recipe, he could memorize the position of arteries; what shot to take at that instant, and which to wait on based only on past missions that resonated like past lives.

But for you…

Oh, it was never supposed to happen to you.

“Are you alright?” Johnny breaths, humor gone and left with guilt. 

He feels your lips on his raging pulse and lets his eyes close, content to feel you move against him as your head remains in his neck. Shifting his body into a more comfortable position, he cages you in protectively. Never again would he allow this to happen.

“I shot someone.” The man’s lips quivered, heart hurting at the blatant shock in your voice. It hadn’t hit you yet, and, hell, Johnny still remembered his first kill like it was yesterday. It wouldn’t be good when all this calmed down. He’d thrown up for two days straight, himself.

“Aye.” He breathes.

“His blood’s all over the house.”

“It is.”

“Is…is that,” you’re shivering, so he massages your spine soothingly until you find the words. “Is that a good thing?” 

He should say no, tell you that the situation that you’d been put in was never supposed to happen and it was just an unfortunate reality. Death wasn’t a good thing, per se. But the man had broken into your shared home—busted down the bedroom door with the intent of using you as a bargaining chip to get to him. So, to the Scot, the answer is clear.

No one messed with his family and lived.

“Yes.” Taking down the air of a dusty alleyway as sirens wail a street over, you weren't surprised that your boyfriend had managed to get to your home far faster than the police could. He said he always would, didn’t he? 

The bills for the speeding tickets and the running of red lights were going to be atrocious.

“Okay.” Your answer is muttered as you peel back, pressing a kiss to the corner of Johnny’s lips. You believed him. Always would. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me.” His bright teeth show off a smile as your mirror. He kisses you heavily on the lips. Whispers against your lips, a promise. A vow. “As long as you put up with me, I’ll always keep you safe.”

“Soap,” Price yells, snapping the two of you out of it. “Get on with it!” 

The Scot raises a shocked brow and smirks down at you as you tilt your head and listen in happy confusion. 

“Y’know, those shots weren't half bad back there. ‘Specially after takin’ a tumble into the flowers.” Your expression freezes in denial as you’re lifted bridal style into the air. Speaking over the calls of police and firemen as they come to the scene, your voice monotones as your legs swing.

“...I missed two out of the three, you dork. That’s failing.” Johnny gapes in mock surprise and you refrain from snorting at the boyish glint in his eyes.

“Jesus, is it really? Hell, you’ll be comin’ for my job in no time, won’t ya? That’s one better than me!” 

You kiss him and feel the grunt through your lips.

TAGS ||

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet​, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

[readsaboutreid]

Aaaa!!! Lavender roses is so fucking sweet!!!

Absolutely adorable!

If I could request something where the reader works at the BAU, but in like the last week the reader has cone in with allergy symptoms, red itchy eyes and nose. And she's just feeling terrible, eventually Gideon or Hotch dismisses her fot a couple days, and Spencer's been worried as hell and goes to check up on her but it turns out she was given a cat by her friend, (the cat got dumped and the friend caught take care of it) but the reader is allergic but doesn't wanna give up the cat, sorta "I'll get used to it, it sucks nie but he's just a baby!!!" Vibes?

tysm! and Absolutely! I've lived this scenario out myself in slightly different settings so I can easily put myself into the situation lol I think one may be a bit shorter though if that's oki?

contains: fluff, concerned Spencer, kitties!, bau!reader

"Achoo!" Spencer heard the sneeze from the desk adjacent to his, the sixth sneeze he's heard in the past half hour. He looked over to (Y/N), who was sitting at her desk with a box of tissues she had opened just that morning, already now half empty.

"You, uh, you feeling okay, (Y/N)?" He tentatively asked her, his inner germaphobe screaming at the proximity he shared with her. Sure, she was very good about covering her nose and mouth each time she sneezed but the anxiety still raced through his veins, exacerbated by his concern for his friend's wellbeing.

"I'm fine, Spencer, nothing to worry about!" She attempted to sound chipper, but instead just sounded congested.

"You've sneezed 6 times in 28 minutes, 36 seconds! I'd say that's a little less than 'fine', if you ask me," he retorted, raising his eyebrows as he spoke.

"Well, it's a good thing you asked me, then, and not the other way around, isn't it?" She shot back with a light (but still congested) tone.

"Well if you ask me," interrupted the voice of Derek Morgan, loudly, "you're sick and you need to go home before we all end up sick."

"I'm not sick, it's just allergies, I swear—,"

"That's what people say in movies before big deadly disease outbreaks occur!" Penelope Garcia piped in from her spot leaning up against Morgan's desk.

"Well it's a good thing this is real life and not a movie, isn't it?" (Y/N) quipped before quickly reaching for a tissue before her next sneeze.

"Go home, (Y/L/N)," everyone's head turned as Hotch walked out of his office and called down to them. "You're sick and I don't need the entire team coming down with it. That's an order."

Defeated, (Y/N) sighed and gathered her things and left the bullpen.

Spencer walked out of the pharmacy with bags full of cold medicine, water bottles, Gatorade and Powerade (just in case she preferred one to the other), and underneath it all a container of warm chicken soup that he had made (he wasn't sure if it was any good, but he followed the recipe exactly as it was written so he hoped it was okay, at the very least). He knocked on (Y/N)'s door and nervously waited. He hoped he wasn't overstepping, it wasn't like they were dating or anything (although the two had been on one date about a month ago, the job getting in the way every time they'd try to arrange a second date, much to his chagrin).

The sound of the door unlocking pulled him out of his head and the door opened enough for (Y/N) to poke her head out, as if trying to keep him from seeing inside. "Oh, hey, Spencer! No, you little demon, shoo!"

"O-oh! Sorry," he began, "I was just gonna bring you some medicine and food but I can go if you're not feeling up to having anyone—"

"Oh god, no! I wasn't talking about you! I'm so sorry!" Her eyes widened in panic before she said, "here, why don't you come in and you'll see."

She opened the door a little wider and stepped back as he slid inside. And was immediately greeted with two small pairs of yellow eyes. "I, uh, I had a friend who found two kittens but couldn't afford to take them in." Her eyes were red and watery and she sniffled slightly. "Turns out I'm allergic to cats!"

"Oh! Do you need help finding someone to take them?" Spencer asked, recalling something Emily had said about maybe getting a cat. "Because Emily recently—"

"What?" She asked quickly. "Never! Why would I give them up?"

"Because you're clearly suffering?" He reasoned, a smile tugging at his lips at her (admittedly adorable) pout.

"I have an appointment with a doctor about allergy shots," she argued, "come on, you can't say you don't already love them!" She whined.

As they both began rubbing up against his legs he couldn't deny that maybe she had a point.

[liyaauhr]

Aiden & Taylor HC’s because no-one talks about them enough! 🎢

— disaster child + disaster child = recipe for chaos

— After her father’s death, Taylor never really got to have a normal childhood like most people her age. She didn’t want to rely on her twin brother constantly for help and had an emotionally unavailable mother so she spent her time trying to help out around the house as much as possible. Her first time goofing off was actually with Aiden who convinced her to skip class to go to the skate park and taught her how to skateboard.

— Gossip about their classmates ALL THE TIME. Literally Taylor will call up Aiden at the ass crack of dawn being like “OH MY GOD you will NOT believe whats been going on with blah blah blah” and Aiden would immediately be like “OMG wtf??? Oh I knew they were a bitch 🙄”

— They team up to cheat in uno. Both of them sneak in +4 cards to their deck and trade cards underneath their legs like dealers to get the people they’ve targeted out in the round. This person is usually Tyler because he has a whole FLIP OUT and when it’s not him it’s Ashlyn because you cannot tell me she wouldn’t get competitive and be a sore loser.

No. this is totally not based off of personal experience. (My friends suck 🤧)

— Once during Christmas, after watching so many movies (and paying attention to none) Aiden had the bright idea of recreating the traps in Home Alone. His parents were away and Taylor tried to talk him out of it…but then he offered a monthly supply of chocolate bunnies and a declaration of a prank war on Tyler so naturally, she concedes. The whole thing was surprisingly easy considering Aiden just has a bunch of questionable random junk lying around that is that is scary dangerous when utilised so with Taylor’s craftiness and Aiden’s creativity the two of them end up making some unstoppable traps. Unfortunately, instead of taking them down once they were finished, both of them got sidetracked by making cookies for the rest of the group to eat. As of on queue, a poor unknowing Ben had walked into the front door after guitar lessons with Tyler and well…you can imagine the disaster! Literally hundreds of booby traps flying at him from every damn corner, every wrong step taken resulted in another attack and eventually a net came out of nowhere and trapped him mid-air!

(Tyler was behind him and could not stop laughing for a good hour as Aiden and Taylor watched in horror, he now has infinite blackmail material in his gallery.)

— I hc that while Tyler is a great cook, Taylor is an excellent baker! When she’s concentrated she can make some really good cookies and cakes that she had learned from her mum.

Key word: WHEN SHE’S CONCENTRATED

Long story short, they’ve blown up a whole kitchen before (at least it was Aiden’s).

— These two 100% do dumb tiktok challenges together and you cannot convince me otherwise.

— Before the Savannah trip, I like to think that Taylor was intrigued by Aiden’s energy when he first arrived especially considering she’s the type to notice people who aren’t necessarily well known (as seen with Ashlyn). Whenever she saw him he was always smiling and goofing off with the tall guy that followed him around and she sorta missed that feeling after losing it so long ago when her father died. Her brother and mother had never been the same since and Tyler became more serious, not to mention her other friends weren’t exactly the silly type.

And the two seemed to stick to the ginger haired girl like glue (to her dismay). She found it funny watching them annoy her to no end and Ashlyn had always been someone she had secretly wanted to get to know.

I feel like a part of her really wanted to make friends with them from the beginning because while the people Tyler and Taylor hung out with were nice enough, they always felt so disconnected and out of touch from them.

— They share a PE class together and literally both choose not to try in class and instead choose to goof off and gossip instead.

— Once Aiden’s roots were growing out and Taylor noticed and offered to re-dye it for him. Turns out she has 0 hair skills (all the genes went to Tyler lol) and Tyler walked in on the both of them in the bathroom. Aiden with patchy bleached hair that looks like its frying itself raw and Taylor with random bleached streaks and botched bangs. Safe to say, neither of them are allowed to use hair products and tools anymore.

— They match together for Halloween because everyone else is a loser who can’t accept their amazing ideas (e.g chicken onesies, angry birds etc.)

[tbaluver]

What Video Game/ Genre The Hashira's Play- Demon Slayer

a/n: just a silly idea bc my head is filled with gaming brainrot esp dress to impress

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy! <3

genre: silly

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Giyu:

He's honestly a chill gamer and mostly just there to have fun and make friends. But never really chats with anybody unless someone talks to him first.

He duo's with Sabito a lot on games. Whatever games Sabito recommends to play, he'll play it. Sabito mostly carries him in FPS ( first person shooter ) games.

One time Sanemi and Obanai were on the enemy team and they won. He would be confused on why they would curse him out every time in the chat saying he was to 'easy' or that he sucks.

Sanemi:

Plays a lot of video games especially during his childhood. He would share his DS or Gameboy with Genya a lot during their childhood.

Mainly plays FPS games or any combat games. Literally anything competitive.

Mostly duo with Obanai in FPS games. He would curse Giyu out with Obanai anytime they would be on the opposing team.

Tries to play with Genya and he tries his best to not rage but eventually he does either at the game or at Genya. Ironically tells Genya not to play games like that anymore because people in the lobby can be toxic.

Would get in trouble a lot from yelling so much at the game at night.

Obanai:

Has played Overcooked with Mitsuri many times. He does not yell at her at all and is super patient when they do not get any stars on the hard levels. They would plan strategies together on how to defeat a level.

Sometimes plays FPS games but only when Sanemi asks him to get on. Will type mean things in chat with Sanemi whenever he sees Giyu on the opposite team.

Misturi:

Has so much fun playing overcooked with Obanai and they are so close to finishing the game. Would make comments about how if she were to drop food in her restaurant she would not serve it to her customers or how she would love to make a recipe like that in real life.

She would play cooking games like Cooking Mama or Good Pizza, Great Pizza. Would literally give a generous amount of toppings on Good Pizza, Great Pizza and would already have 5 stars in her restaurant.

Plays other games like Episode or The Sims or Just Dance. Would have the cutest family in the coziest home that she made on The Sims. She would also be really good on Just Dance.

She would also play Otome games because men irl suck and Obanai won't confess to her yet.

Tengen:

He would be really good in Osu! or any rhythm game. Has also played Fortnite Festival and has the top score in all his friends lists.

Duo with Rengoku often in FPS games. He would also have a big ego when playing any competitive match. "I'm a god in this game"

Rengoku:

Plays a couple FPS games and duos with Tengen.

Plays with his little brother and helps carry him in any game he needs. Usually just loves to spend time with his little brother and plays whatever game he wants.

Played with Sanemi and Obanai a couple times. Sanemi would yell in the mic and have his ears ringing so Rengoku wouldn't notice how loud he actually talks on the mic until Sanemi yells at him.

Shinobu:

Not the biggest fan of playing video games on her free time.

I don't know why but I think she could have fun playing horror games or likes playing chill games like Stardew Valley.

She tried to play an FPS game and played the role as a healer and never picked up the game ever again.

Muichiro:

Would have a hand me down of a DS or gameboy and have loved video games every since.

Have played a lot of video games and plays a lot of games that are trending.

Right now he plays a lot of Minecraft and Roblox.

Teaches the Kamaboko Squad on how to play. They would have a realm and try to beat the enderdragon together.

Gyomei:

He's blind but I feel like the kids would include him in an game they play. I feel like he would like playing story games where choices matter. He would carefully pick the choices and actions so he can save all the characters.

[razorblade180]

Together again

Carmine:Mom? Can I ask an odd question?

Ruby:If an odd question is asked by an odd girl to her odd daughter, isn’t it just normal? *flips pancakes* All ears.

Carmine:Hypothetically, if I met you at my age, who would win in a fight?

Ruby:Hmmm good question. You’re fifteen so, you kick my ass. Even if I’m thinking about me in Beacon.

Carmine:Really?

Ruby:I was scrappy but very kick-able unfortunately. Your birthday is close so if we’re entertaining this seriously then I think my journey to Haven still wouldn’t be enough.

Carmine:And Atlas?

Ruby:I fear I kick your ass. I was really hitting my stride at that point. Plus I was pretty temperamental then. We might punch the spit out of each other for a bit.

Carmine:That’s interesting. Guess I’m not as far behind as I imagined.

Ruby:I wouldn’t compare your progress to mine. Life is pretty different from when I was your age.

Carmine:I can’t compare myself to my peers since they all suck! You might’ve saved the world a little too hard. Not many cream in the crop anymore.

Ruby:Ha! You overestimate me. Sure, I killed Salem in a pretty fantastic way, but I don’t think i curved the skill level of the world. There are plenty huntsmen that were underwhelming growing up. Then some of them are late bloomers.

Carmine:Do late bloomers survive?

Jaune:*walks in* I did. For the most part.

Carmine:You were a late bloomer?

Jaune:Yeah I sucked.

Ruby:*scrambling eggs* Don’t listen to him. Your father did not suck. He was painfully average for quite a while.

Jaune:That doesn’t sound any better.

Ruby:You were starting from scratch; it’s only natural. I’m not a fan of trail by fire but your father made every experience that for himself. Paid off in in the end.

Carmine:How did you keep up before that?

Jaune:Your mother was in love with me so she stuck to my side.

Ruby:*red* That is not the reason!

Jaune:I mean it kinda is.

Ruby:Carmine, as a leader and someone who influenced others to go with her, I wouldn’t leave them behind. That’s bad leadership and a recipe for disaster.

Jaune:She was mostly worried about something happening to me and being too far ahead meant potentially losing me, the person she loved.

Ruby:….*flips pancakes* It was a valid fear.

Jaune:*kisses her head* It was.

Carmine:Hmm, that makes sense. You would be more effective together.

Ruby:Am I sensing a bit of longing to have a team?

Carmine:Nah. Not really. They’d definitely make things more of a hassle. Although, I will admit aimless chatter around a campfire and meals makes me a little envious. The past two years at Beacon were pretty dull solo.

Ruby:Friendship feeds the soul. There’s people here in Vacou I know that will be happy to see your face around. Even of the conversations are awkward, make sure to greet them. I know Aero probably misses you~

Carmine:Heh, is that so? Guess that should be more first stop. *stands up* I’m heading out.

Ruby:Huh!? But breakfast! It’s almost all done.

Carmine:Yeah, but….it’s not dad’s breakfast soooooo.

Ruby:What’s wrong with my pancakes! They’re awesome!

Carmine:I never said they were bad. It’s just that compared to dad’s, I fear they’re painfully average.

The girl smiled as she slowly grabbed one anyways and held it with her mouth as she waved goodbye before leaving out the front door with an apple.

Ruby:…..

Jaune:And just like her mother, she is my number one defender.

Ruby:I put so much love into these!

Carmine, in the distance: I CAN TASTE IT!

Ruby:*squints* I don’t think that makes me feel better.

Jaune:There’s always lunchtime.

[writingstoraes]

three words, eight letters 💌

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: written imagine

word count: 4.01k (got carried away)

notes: ok ik there are several of this prompt here but i wanted to give it a whirl :]] also in a slump with my ig imagines so i figured i should finish this since its been a draft for such a looong time lolol no warnings, this is just very fluff-coded!

about: the three times charles almost said "i love you," and the one time he finally did.

Charles wanted to tell you the three aching words he's stored in containment. All he wanted was the right time and the perfect moment, but for the love of his and his alone, he just cannot find it.

He had been racking his brain on how to tell you - because when he looks at you, it's like those three words are just going to explode out of his chest. Every time you smile, laugh, or even breathe in his direction, he realizes just how smitten he was for you. He thought about just saying it out of the blue, unplanned but also when the time felt right. But he also thought about going about it as if it were a proposal because you deserve nothing less than the best he can give.

There were times he thought it was too early to say.

You had just been dating a few months in, and though he felt strongly for you and he did love you, he didn't want to say it too fast or too early out of the fear that it might drive you away.

It's no secret Charles was no chef. He gets a good laugh when other drivers tease him about it but he doesn't pay it any mind. Some people are just good at other things, like how he sucks at cooking but can drive a car that goes as fast as lightning. It is also no secret that he wanted to impress you with skills other than driving - so he doesn't know what entered his mind when he realizes he's on his way to the supermarket as he decides to try and cook dinner.

He scoured the internet for an easy recipe, finally smiling to himself when he finds a simple pasta dish he thinks he can do. To an average person, the dish was really easy to make. So simple that an unsupervised child could follow it. Directions were clear and the website had pictures - he just needs to make a simple sauce, cook some pasta, and grate some cheese. He tells himself nothing could go wrong, what he was about to cook was absolutely just elementary. But he's not an average person, he was Charles, and he is a terrible cook through and through.

Having convinced himself he could cook something so simple, he had forgotten how he messed everything up. He's pretty sure he blacked out, because when he came to his senses, the pasta was overcooked, and the sauce mysteriously evaporated into the air so the pan was just red drops with charred pieces of cheese on the side. He tried to taste it, and he deems it inedible. He was so occupied with cooking it had slipped out of his mind that you were coming over, so the next thing he hears is the sound of your soft knock on his door.

The kitchen was an absolute mess and the apron he wore was extremely dirty — he almost thought about pretending he wasn't home and not answering the door. Of course, he doesn't do that, so he lets you in and the first thing you smell, is cheese.

"Were you cooking?" was the first thing you ask him.

He didn't answer, instead, he planted a chaste kiss on your lips and hurriedly walked back to the kitchen.

He had expected you to laugh once you saw the mess he made by trying to cook just to impress you, but surprisingly, no chuckle erupted out of you.

"Sorry," he says softly, taking off his apron and quickly cleaning up the pots and the bowls he used up.

"I wanted to cook you dinner. I found this recipe online and I thought it was easy," he sighs. "Cooking absolutely hates me. You're okay with getting takeout for now?"

He really did expect you to laugh.

But the second sentence that came out of your mouth: "I'll help you clean up."

It didn't take a lot of time to clean everything up. Thanks to Charles' inability to measure things, he had a ton of extra ingredients, and since he seemed to really like the dish he aspired to cook, you decide to make it for him.

Charles sat at the counter watching you calmly cook the recipe he'd intended to accomplish, your hair parted to the side while you wear the ridiculously messy apron he had worn earlier. He watches you cook the pasta and the sauce at the same time, able to keep your eye on both without neglecting the other. To your defense — the recipe really was easy. But Charles didn't seem to think so, which was why he was sitting on the counter with heart-shaped eyes.

"See, this is what it should look like when the pasta is done cooking," you hold up a piece, cutting it in the middle to show Charles it has cooked through.

"It helps if you check it from time to time if you're not sure. For the sauce, I think you just had your heat on a little too high, but that's okay — you can do it right next time." you smile softly at him, eyes squinting before you shift your attention back to the pan.

Charles had tried cooking before. But up to this day, you were the only one patient enough to actually teach him how. And it didn't help that you looked so beautiful while doing so; hair parted to the side, apron hanging a bit loose on your body, and a smile so captivating it blinds him a little. You weren't perfect, you did laugh at him eventually, but not before guiding him through the recipe he'd chosen. And quite surprisingly, he could cook this same exact dish properly for Arthur next week.

It was clear Charles was no help in the kitchen, so he resorts to hugging you from behind, head resting on your shoulder, breathing slow and steady. He gets a whiff of your shampoo and your perfume he absolutely loved. Your hands soon make their way on top of his that rested on your stomach, thumb rubbing circles on his. Charles was pretty sure you could feel him smile widely behind you, a thought he chooses to ignore because he didn't care anyway, he was at his happiest.

"I lo—" he starts, catching himself off-guard. For a moment, time stops; and he's not sure what to say next. He thought it was too early, but he wanted to say it.

"I love pasta, you know that?" Charles continues, trying to save whatever he's left with. Thankfully, you didn't notice his desperate attempt to cover his supposed mistake.

He tells himself: maybe next time.

Charles' mother had been pestering him for a long time about meeting you. Every time he came home, he was greeted with, "When am I going to meet your girlfriend?"

Even his brothers, Lorenzo and Arthur, were all so ecstatic about meeting you properly for the first time. The two see you around the track for brief periods of time, but in their defense, you haven't introduced yourself properly to Charles' family. It didn't help that Charles himself talked about you like you hung the moon and stars, and made the universe using your own bare hands, because his whole family, mother and brothers aside, all wanted to meet you.

The two of you were finally headed to Charles' childhood home, finally about to meet his entire family. And the word entire was an understatement because everybody was there. From aunts, cousins, and his nieces and nephews, all of them were anticipating your arrival. A lump forms in your throat just by the thought, but you try to battle it with a deep breath as you fixate your eyes on the mirror.

"Do you think they're going to look at this dress and think it's too revealing? Or too short?" you shout from the closet, straightening out the creases of the crisp white dress you were wearing.

Charles enters the room and he swears he could have just died right then and there. How you manage to take his breath away with minimal effort remained a mystery to him.

"I think..." he drags the second word. "I think they are going to be completely in love with you."

"Hopefully not in the same way I am, because I don't plan on sharing you." he softly chuckles, giving you a reassuring smile.

Technically he had said the l word already but to him, it didn't count, only because he didn't say it to you directly.

An hour into meeting you, the entirety of Charles' family adored you wholeheartedly. He didn't want to give credit to himself but he knew they would find no reason to not love you, though he reminds himself to tell you he told you so when you get some time alone together later. He could listen to his family members praise you all day. You had managed to meet each and every one of his side of the family present at the dinner and Charles could not help but admire how carefree you were at interacting with people he held close to his heart. His mom could not stop raving about how great you were and kept asking why he did not introduce you earlier that it makes her slightly mad, which was followed by a hearty laugh and an assurance that she loved you to bits.

You just managed to dazzle and charm every person you talked to. His brothers adored you and you managed to get along so well with them even if your most apparent common denominator with them was racing. His aunts could not stop telling Charles how beautiful you were and how you seemed to be so kind and fit so well with him. They were already asking Charles when's the next time you visit and you haven't even left his home yet. For some odd reason, you got along well with his uncles, too.

But the cherry on top, the last straw, and the tipping point that tugged the heaviest on the strings of Charles' heart were seeing you with his nieces and nephews. He was fond of children, gleeful every time he sees one on the paddock, especially when they are clad in colors of red and yellow, his team's staple color scheme. However, he never knew how disastrous it would be for him to see you with children.

There you sat on the patio, his niece behind you as she messily tried to braid your hair. You had a big smile on your face, laughing at the somewhat theatrical act his other nephew was performing in front of you. In your hands was a glass cup with gelato and a small spoon, raising the spoon occasionally to feed the little girl tying your hair. His lips slowly form a smile and he feels his chest was bound to explode any time soon. He stood there and realized that he was completely, utterly, and irrevocably in love with all that you are. In other words, he was down bad, and he wouldn't even dare deny it.

After the festivities of getting to know each member of his family, you and Charles were finally given time alone in the kitchen. Everyone else was occupied setting the table and fixing everything up for dinner. You were part of it though, he just found you getting the pies in the oven after you volunteered to do so.

"I told you so," he says, slightly taking you by surprise, not enough you drop the pies though.

You turn to him with a sheepish smile, "Told me what?"

"That they would love you," he replies.

"Well, I am very loveable. Can't blame them."

"I know you are. That's why I lov-" he transitions into telling you what might be one of the most important things he's ever going to say in his life.

"Charles, dinner's ready!" Arthur calls out, cutting his train of thought. The two of you shift your gaze to the dining area, seeing Arthur and Lorenzo waiting for the two of you.

That's why I love you. That was what he wanted to say.

Charles sighs, telling himself that maybe getting cut off was a sign that this was not the right time. He'd repeat himself, but he thinks there are other times when he could tell you he loved you without interruptions.

"What were you saying?" you ask, not wanting to hang him out to dry.

"Oh. I said I know you're loveable. That's why I love seeing you charm every single member of my family."

Charles was not having the best day. His own team had botched his home race for him once again and on top of that, he had gotten a 3-place grid penalty in Monaco. Don't get him wrong, he was ecstatic to be home. The warm welcome of the fans was unbeatable. Banners, posters, and the Monaco flag waved around the streets of Monte Carlo.

This season has not been good to him so far. So just once, he wishes to catch a break.

The two of you were walking around the paddock as Charles was headed to the Ferrari motorhome to prepare for the race. His hand was on your waist as he guided you in the sea of people. The track was entirely at capacity - engineers, celebrities, VIPs, reporters, you name it. A few meters from the garage, a reporter from a well-known sports channel calls his attention.

It was routine, and Charles was used to it. You were standing not too close beside the cameraman, just watching Charles answer the questions he was asked. The reporter's inquiries were the usual, he had asked how Charles felt about the penalty, how he thinks the car will perform, what upgrades Ferrari is planning on implementing, and all the likes. You watch intently, giving Charles a small smile every time his gaze went your way.

Though the reporter fixated on Charles' "disappointing home race", his words, Charles knew how to handle the questions and answered them composed and professionally. After all, he has been doing this for quite some time. Deep down, it stirred you slightly as it seemed like the reporter was only recognizing the lapses on Charles' side and insinuating that it was entirely his fault.

You tried to pay it no mind until he makes a passing careless and offensive commentary that you could not just let pass.

"I guess some fans were right - monegasques today have nothing to look forward to. Wonder how they feel when their only driver is not only in a horrible car but is tussling with being nothing special."

Nothing special.

Nothing to look forward to.

Something in your ears rang and your vision went dark. You could see Charles' face drop from where you were standing and your heart absolutely broke for him. He proceeds to nod his head toward the cameraman and made haste and you did not hesitate to follow him right away. If you felt distraught and angered after that comment, you wonder just how he felt after hearing it, and at his home race, nonetheless.

"Charles, wait," you jog slightly, seeing as his pace was a lot faster than you. You could tell he just wanted to get out of there. You reach for his hand, tightly grasping it and he stops walking.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," he says lowly, upset written on his face.

"Why are you sorry? It's his fault. He was offensive and careless. He humiliated you and worse, what he was saying was not true."

"C'est bon." It's okay. You two were finally at the garage, a little far from the reporter. Deep down, though Charles wanted to at least defend himself, he feels all the energy he has left had been sucked out of his body.

"No, it's not. He doesn't know what he's saying. I don't want to let him get away with that, he can't just go around telling people things like that. You may be too nice to tell him off but I'm not."

"You don't deserve this," you say with conviction, walking away from the garage and prepared to give the reporter a piece of your mind.

You don't plan to cause a scene, you knew better than that. You weren't going to shout or curse, but you wanted to get your point across. Soon after Charles follows you, clearly trying to stop you but was too late when he saw you already talking to the reporter. He had no choice but to walk closer to you, grasping on what you were saying.

Your voice wasn’t loud. From where he was standing, he could see how calm and composed you were while you gave the reporter the lecture he was probably not expecting. The track was fairly busy and noisy. You could hear engines starting, and conversations of people he doesn’t know, which caused his inability to understand and hear what you were saying. 

He just stood there - watching you defend him from the asshole of an interviewer, your hands making small gestures for emphasis. The reporter’s face slowly displayed guilt and resentment as if he was clearly affected by whatever it is you said. Soon, the noise around him subsided and the only thing he was able to hear was the last thing you told the reporter. 

“I don’t ever want to hear you talk like that about Charles ever again. If you’re only going to disrespect one of the most hard-working people I know, better to not approach him in the slightest.  He did not pour blood, sweat, and tears into this sport just for you to utter those words to him.” 

Your voice remained soft but it was steady. You turned your heel against the reporter and a cameraman who was clearly surprised by what he just witnessed. You walk back to him, giving him a small smile. 

He wanted to just stand there and stare at you. No one has ever done that for him before. He had his fair share of disrespectful interviewers and questions that downright offended every fiber of his being but he always chose to not pay it any mind. It did not help that you were the kindest person he knew — so seeing you decide right away to defend him like that just made him feel all sorts of things. 

The two of you proceed to walk back to the Ferrari garage, your hand tightly grasped by Charles. At the time, he desperately wanted to embrace you and whisper just how much he loved you. He wanted to drag you to a discreet corner and just hold your face while he tells you the three words he’d been keeping to himself. 

But he remained frozen in awe of you, and so he fails to tell you once again.

“Can I-” Charles starts, trying his best to get up from the couch. 

“I already told you. The answer is no,” you reply firmly, shifting your gaze to the man with the slightly swollen cheek. 

He huffs a little bit loudly, wanting to show his disappointment.

“Baby, the doctor said no strenuous activities. You just had your wisdom tooth extracted, so no, you can’t go skiing with Joris.” you say as you walk toward the couch, fluffing the pillow his head rested on and putting a soft blanket on top of him. 

“Please just rest. You lie down right where you are and I will be preparing dinner soon. I just have to finish something first.” 

“My favorite?” he asks, putting on the sweet tone you were always soft for.

“Anything for you, my patient.” you smile, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Okay. I’ll rest,” he sighs, adjusting himself on the couch to face sideways. “You take care of me so well.” 

Charles was under a lot of painkillers. His dentist appointment had been rescheduled hundreds of times as he claims to be too “busy” to get his wisdom tooth extracted. If it weren’t for your incessant nagging because he was already in pain, he probably wouldn’t have pushed through with it. He tried his best to look tough in front of you, but as someone who drove cars that are as fast as lightning, you could tell he was nervous. 

The doctor had to reassure him that there would be anesthesia plus painkillers to combat the pain he would be feeling after. After finding out he was medically allowed to eat a ton of ice cream after the procedure, he was more than happy to oblige.

However, the combination of Charles, anesthesia that’s wearing off, plus painkillers is not equal to a drowsy Charles. He had more energy than usual and was naughtier than normal. In other words, he was hyper. He was not muttering nonsense like the famous wisdom tooth aftermath videos on YouTube nor did he want to sleep all day. He wanted to do so many things he was about to get overstimulated. So no matter how weak in the knees Charles usually made you nor how you always give in when he asks you for something, skiing and going to the gym for a heavy workout after he just had his tooth extracted were just things you cannot say yes to. 

Not long after, the ever so fueled with energy of a boyfriend you had was deep in slumber on the couch. He probably tired himself out from listing a thousand reasons why you have to let him go with Joris and his friends today. He was ceaseless, after all. His lower body was covered with the blanket that you put on him earlier, chest slowly heaving up and down, mouth slightly apart, and lightly snoring. 

He looked so peaceful. For a while, you just sat beside him and went on to study the features of his face. The pointed nose, the tiny freckles that are most evident when the sun hits them, and the eyes that seem to contain galaxies and universes in it. 

“I know you’re staring, chérie,” he quietly says, eyes still closed. 

“No. I’m just checking to see if your face is still swollen.” you reply, playfully rolling your eyes at him. 

“Not swollen. Just say you’re looking for an excuse to study my beautiful face.” he teases, shifting himself so he’s now in a seated position. 

“That’s the anesthesia talking, Charlie,” 

“Wore off already.”

“Fine, I was staring. You’re so pretty, how could I not?” you say, shrugging your shoulders before standing up to prepare dinner. 

“I love you.” Charles says before you could even move away far from the couch where he was seated. 

I love you. 

You stop in your tracks, your back still facing the Monegasque who was clearly waiting for a response yet slightly relieved he told you what he had been wanting to say for a while now. 

“I already know what’s going through your mind,” he says, lightly laughing. “This is not the painkillers nor the anesthesia talking. I’d spent so much time debating on when to tell you.”

“So many accidental “I love you’s” thrown away. Figured there’s never a right time. I love you every single day so why wait for a perfect moment?”

“I love you. So so much.” he repeats. 

You turn to him with a smile you can’t contain, walking over to him and engulfing him in what seemed to be the tightest hug you’d ever given anybody. 

“I hope you know I’m still saying no to the skiing.” you laugh. 

Charles chuckles, and you could feel the vibrations of his laughter from his chest. His grip on you only tightens, sighing in relief. 

“That’s okay. I’d rather be with you anyway.” he says, squeezing you once more before breaking away from your embrace.

“Hmm, swaying me with pretty words, Leclerc?” you raise a brow. 

“Never!” Charles smiles sheepishly as he puts both his hands up in defense. 

“For what it’s worth — though you’re like a child hopped up on sugar earlier, I love you too.” 

-------------

tagging: @slytherheign <3

notes: i think this is my first time writing something this long! i also have a 3.5k word work in progress but i cant find the will to finish it lol very angsty though!

thank u sm for reading and lmk what u think hehe <3 also pls send requests for ig imagines for charles! will try to do it as soon as i can!

[agxxb]

sweet treat .𖥔 ݁ ˖

joel miller x f!reader

summary: to celebrate joel getting a promotion, you decide to surprise him with his favourite pudding — but that’s not the only dessert he has in mind.

warnings: smut. pre-outbreak joel. unprotected!piv (wrap it before you tap it). oral (f receiving). soft dom!joel. dirty talk. vaginal fingering. pet names (sweetheart, honey, baby, pretty girl). established relationship. food mentions. swearing. [1.3k].

As soon as the phone call had ended, you stood from your spot on the sofa and hurried to the kitchen in excitement. A large grin broke out on your face, the crinkles by your eyes becoming more prominent the more you thought about what your husband had just told you.

When Joel had informed you of his promotion, you had let out a squeal of joy, pride filling your chest at how happy he was. You always supported him, just like how he did with you; His success felt like your own.

Heading towards the kitchen counter, you immediately began taking the ingredients out of the cupboard to bake Joel’s favourite dessert — a Texas sheet cake. He had once told you it reminded him of when he was growing up, his mother having baked it often for him and his young brother, Tommy.

You began mixing the ingredients together, knowing the recipe off by heart with how many times you’ve made it. The smile didn’t leave your face the entire time, pure rapture filling your entire being. Joel worked so hard and it felt amazing to finally see that pay off.

Just as you’d finished the preparation, the front door suddenly opened and your husband’s voice called out. You turned around in surprise, though far from complaining.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Joel greeted, the biggest smile on his face as his eyes landed on you. His southern drawl had always made you weak in the knees, and that hadn’t changed in the six years you’d been together. “What’cha doin’?”

He walked into the kitchen, pulling you into an embrace. He placed his chin on your head, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. You smiled against his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your cheek against his chest. His heartbeat sped up, just like it did when you first met.

“Making you a little congratulatory dessert,” you replied, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to his Adam’s apple. “I am so proud of you.”

“About time, huh?” he joked, pressing a kiss to your head before pulling away. His smile was still present, eyes bright as he looked at you.

Joel brought a hand up, resting it against your cheek. His thumb gently brushed against your skin before leaning down, pressing his lips against yours. They were chapped, dry from spending the day outdoors, but that didn’t make it any less enjoyable. Kissing Joel would never get boring, no matter how many times it happened.

You tried to pull away to say something, but his hand moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, keeping you in place. You breathed out through your nose, sliding your hands up his chest and resting there. Walking forward and moving you backwards, Joel led you to lean against the kitchen counter. You jumped up (with his help) and he stood in between your legs.

The kiss got heated pretty quickly, roaming hands clutching at any and every part of each other. Joel pulled back momentarily, allowing you to catch your breath. Your fingers carded through his hair, pulling as he nipped and sucked at your skin.

Letting out a moan, your eyes closed as you basked in the pleasure. “Fuck.” Joel moved down, licking at your collarbone before lowering himself to his knees. “Baby, please.”

Joel’s fingers deftly unbuttoned your shorts, pulling them down your legs and dropping them on the floor beside him. You spread your legs, giving him all the access he needed and allowing him to see how wet you were.

“Fuckin’ soaked, Sweetheart,” he groaned, voice deep and husky, full of want and need. “And all for me…”

“All for you.” You nodded, chin to chest as you looked down at him. “Please. Need it.”

“Yeah, pretty girl?” He didn’t look away from your pussy, eyes taking in what his mouth soon would. You nodded, urgent with the gesture. “Need me to make it feel better?” You nodded once again, though stopped halfway through the action as your head fell back and a moan left your mouth.

Joel’s tongue licked from your entrance all the way to your clit, sucking and moaning into you. “J-Joel…” you stuttered, hands in his hair once again and pulling. “Need to- Need to put the cake in… cake in the oven.”

“Got my dessert right here, Honey,” he mumbled before sucking on your clit once again. You let out another moan, a chain of them following and seemingly never ending. “That’s it, Sweetheart… let everyone know who’s making you feel this good. Want you to fucking scream my name.”

Just as he said that, two of his fingers pushed into you, curling and instantly finding that spot that makes your legs shake. You did just as he wanted, moaning his name as tears welled up in your eyes.

Joel moaned into you every time you pulled at his hair, moving closer into you, like he was willing to either drown or suffocate. Eating you out was one of his favourite things. He never wanted to stop. He would do it all day, every day if he could.

“Gonna cum.”

Immediately, Joel pulled away. You opened your eyes, looking at him in both annoyance and desperation. Just as you were about to open your mouth in protest, you watched as his hands moved down to his belt, undoing it in record time.

Dropping his jeans, he helped you down to your feet, turning you around to lean your forearms against the counter you just sat atop. You soon felt his tip against your entrance, moving back to try and get him to move.

“So impatient…” he tutted, a teasing tone taking control of his words. “What do you want, baby?”

“Want you. Please.”

“How could I refuse when you’re asking so nicely.”

And with that, Joel pushed his hips forward. Your head fell, chin against chest once again, and your eyes fell closed. The pleasure was instant, toes curling against the floorboards and hands stretching out to find anything to hold onto. A groan left Joel’s mouth, reverberating from deep within his chest, and his head tilted back as your warmth surrounded him.

“Fuck. Please. Please move.”

Doing as you asked (and not being able to hold back any longer), Joel pulled back before pushing back into you. “So fuckin’ wet, Sweetheart,” he moaned out, his movements speeding up and the sound of skin colliding echoing throughout the house. You could both hear how wet you were for him, the sound filling your ears with every thrust.

His hands dug into your hips, your head rested against the marble counter, and the buckle of his belt clinked as it hit against his zipper. All you could feel was him and the growing pit of burning pleasure deep within your stomach. Tears streamed down your face, your cheeks red from being unable to catch your breath.

You gasped, one hand reaching back. Joel took it in his own, holding it and interlocking your fingers. Grunts left this mouth from behind his clenched teeth, eyes locked on where you were joined. You were both sweating, the Texas heat not helping and the air-conditioner being rendered useless.

“Joel,” you moaned, tits bouncing with every slap of his hips against your ass. “Gonna cum. Please. Please can I cum?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, wanting to see how long you could hold it before he gave you the green light. However, after only a few seconds, he, too, felt like falling over the edge.

“Go on, honey. Cum for me.”

You let out a cry, body shaking from the power of your orgasm. Your eyes squeezed closed and your fists balled up, nails digging into your palms to ground you. With a few more thrusts and the feeling of you squeezing him, Joel came with a grunt, pushing his hips into yours and letting himself get as deep as possible. His forehead rested in between your shoulder blades, face red and breathing heavy.

“Fuck.”

“We just did,” you responded with a short laugh, taking a moment to catch your own breath.

“Is this a good time to mention that I also got a pay rise?”