#hello world. its my fucking face again

[tenmillionpoundsofsludge]

And a very happy world schizophrenia awareness day from your favorite schizophrenic mutual who you should be Aware Of....World

(he/him)

[hauntingblue]

You guys think the one piece movies are on letterboxd?

[mysteria157]

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: Profanity, Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Missionary, Doggystyle, Fingering, Oral (m! receiving)…

WC: ~10k (grab your snacks)

Summary: 

Nanami runs into a problem that every man dreads.

Now, you find yourself navigating the treacherous waters of his bruised ego and growing hysteria, armed with nothing but your unwavering love and a seemingly endless supply of patience, as you try to help him overcome this unexpected hurdle.

Notes: Hello! Trying to get back into the swing of writing again after so many weeks on a break and naturally Nanami is who I gravitate towards. I thought this one shot would be a funny idea, and as someone once told me, I wrote this with “my c*it on the keyboard.”

Please do not ask me for more related to this story. This is just a one-shot of a random idea, please enjoy it for what it is lol. Thank you all for understanding!

Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @cafekitsune | Header: made by myself

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter |

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

“Fuck, Kento,” you breathe, fingers digging into the satin of the pillow case beneath your head.

The soft, warm glow of the bedside lamp bathes your intertwined bodies in a honeyed light, casting shadows that dance across your rich brown skin. Nanami’s lips, hot and insistent, trail a path of fire down your neck, pausing to lavish attention on the sensitive hollow of your throat. He drags his teeth along your clavicle, brushes his lips between the skin of your breasts. A breathy moan escapes you as his tongue traces lazy, deliberate circles around an already-sensitive nipple, sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.

His hands, strong and sure, yet infinitely gentle, knead the soft flesh behind your knees, coaxing your legs to open wider, allowing him to sink deeper into the welcoming heat of your body. The blunt head of his cock grazes that sweet spot inside you with each measured thrust, and you can’t help but arch your back, silently begging for more.

Your hair, messy from his fingers, frames your face in a splatter of curls, some clinging to the sheen of sweat on your cheeks. The sight of you like this—open, wanting, completely his—nearly steals the breath from his lungs and makes him double down his efforts.

It’s been weeks since you’ve had this. Weeks of Kento stumbling home late from working overtime, collapsing into bed still fully clothed. Weeks of missed connections, family obligations, and movie nights cut short with you both passing out on the couch. But tonight, finally, you have each other, free from the demands of the world outside.

As Nanami moves within you, his honey-wheat hair, usually so perfectly styled, falls in soft, tousled waves across his forehead, clinging to the perspiration that glistens on his brow. The strong line of his jaw is taut with concentration, a muscle jumping beneath the skin in a way that makes your fingers itch to trace its contours. His eyes, normally a cool, observant umber, now burn with a fierce intensity, a volatile mix of desire and something else, something harder to define.

But even as you lose yourself in the rhythm of your lovemaking, in the exquisite slide of skin against skin, you can’t help but notice the weariness etched into the lines of Nanami’s face, the slight tremor in his hands as they map the contours of your body. He’s been working himself to the bone, pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion, and it shows in the tension of his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes. You had tried to get him to sleep when he sagged through the front door, but he was insistent, clawing at your too-big t-shirt, silent and too stubborn to listen to his body as he licked into your hot mouth.

He’s so tired. Mind still running through quarterly reports and half-completed project plans. But he won’t let that deter him. He’s determined to focus—to savor this moment, to lose himself in the intoxicating scent of your skin, to surrender to the tremors that course through him as your fingers ghost up his back. You marvel at the play of muscles beneath his skin, at the flex and release of his broad shoulders with each movement—a reminder of the strength he usually keeps so carefully controlled.

But as he leans in to capture your lips, that traitorous whisper of doubt in his mind grows in volume. That exhaustion that melted away from your touch has retreated to within him, to course through the blood in his veins and manifest again in its own, evil way at the apex of his thighs. Nanami’s movements falter, his rhythm turning erratic, unsure. You feel a change in him, a hesitation that wasn’t there before, and your heart clenches with concern. His brow furrows, his lips pressing into a thin line as he tries to hold onto the moment, to keep the passion burning between you. The confidence that usually radiates from him when you are both between the sheets seems to waver, leaving in its wake a man grappling with an unfamiliar sense of inadequacy.

He doesn’t want to believe it. He refuses to acknowledge the treacherous thought creeping into his mind. His cock, moments ago hard as a rock and pulsing within you, is betraying him. He digs one hand into the pillow beneath your head, fingers tangling in your curls, savoring the sharp gasp you shake out, desperately willing himself to focus on your heat, on your breath ghosting across his face—anything but the waning firmness of his erection.

With a low grunt, he thrusts deeper so there’s no room for his cock to leave you. The movement is sharper than usual, a force that has no trace of his care behind it and it immediately makes you blink through the fog of pleasure in your mind. You notice the change, concern filling you as you take in the tumultuous emotions on his face. His blonde hair falls in thick tufts over his forehead, brushing against the deepening crease between his eyebrows.

“Ken?” Your voice is soft, a gentle caress. You bring a hand to his cheek, and he leans into your touch as if your soft skin might anchor and keep him focused. “Is everything alright?”

Everything is far from alright.

It’s a nightmare scenario that Nanami can’t bring himself to voice. But he knows you feel it. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in harsh, ragged pants against your vanilla skin, his fingers digging almost painfully into the flesh of your hips. He drives his hips deeper, angling upwards, trying desperately to lose himself in your pliant body.

But with his next thrust, the cruel truth becomes undeniable. What was once hard steel is now unbearably soft, slipping out of you as his hips collide with yours. Your gasp mirrors his shock as he jerks his head up to meet your gaze. The mortification in his eyes is palpable, a stark contrast to the passion that burned there mere moments ago.

“Ken, it’s okay—” you begin, but he’s already retreating, both physically and emotionally, his walls slamming back into place, shutting you out. You can practically see him retreating into himself, his shoulders hunching, his jaw clenching with a stubbornness of wounded pride.

“Hey, no, we aren’t doing this,” you insist, voice firm and laced with quiet determination.

You reach for him, your fingers wrapping around a thick wrist, anchoring him to you. You’ve spent years chipping away at his defenses, learning every facet of his being, and you refuse to let him shut you out now over something like this. This isn’t just embarrassment—it’s a fundamental shaking of his self-image, a crack in the foundation of who Nanami believes himself to be. An affliction that every man prays to the gods never finds them.

Limp dick.

You gently pull Nanami back to rest between your thighs, his weight a comforting shield against the cool air of your shared bedroom. Your fingers weave through his hair, feeling the tension thrumming through his body as he settles against you.

“Kento,” you murmur, your voice a low, soothing melody in the quiet room. “Look at me.”

He stills for a heartbeat, two, before raising his head, his eyes meeting yours. In their depths, you see a swirling maelstrom of emotions—frustration, embarrassment, shame. He’s tousled hair and flushed cheeks, an overwhelming exhaustion and stress etched beneath his eyes.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, cradling his face in your hands. Your thumbs trace the high arch of his cheekbones, feeling the heat of his skin. “This happens. It doesn’t change a thing—not how I feel, not how much I love you, none of it.”

Nanami’s jaw clenches under your palms, the muscle pulsing, a physical manifestation of the turmoil brewing within him. His gaze falls, unable to hold yours, as if the weight of his perceived failure is too much to bear. “I should be able to—”

“To what?” you interject, your voice gentle but firm. “To be some infallible sex god?” A soft laugh escapes you, your lips curving into a tender smile. “To never have limp dick?”

Those warm eyes glare at you, not at all amused by your light-hearted but poignantly accurate joke. “Now is not the time for a joke,” he grits out, his voice tight, strained.

“Now is exactly the time for a joke,” you counter, your thumb tracing the slight cracks of his bottom lip. You can sense his next moves, your body attuned to his very soul, feeling his inclination to withdraw, to roll over and brood, to let this momentary setback fester into something more. You tighten your thighs around his waist, refusing to let him drift away. “How long have we been together, Kento?”

“Three years.” His answer is immediate, automatic, a testament to the depth of your bond.

“And in that time, has this ever happened before?”

Your eyes lock—a silent battle of wills, logic against stubborn pride. He understands your point, recognizes the truth in your words, but his stubbornness matches your own. “No,” he admits, the word a reluctant concession.

“You’re human, Kento. Wonderfully, beautifully human, and the sexiest man I’ve ever known. Performance issues or not.”

He scoffs, but you feel his shoulders slacken, his body melting into yours as he exhales, the tension slowly bleeding from his muscles. His arms tighten around you, calloused hands splaying across the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, as if your touch alone could chase away the demons of self-doubt. Those beautiful golden strands tickle your cheeks as he nuzzles closer, his breath warm against your neck.

“Is that so?” he finally murmurs, and you can hear the small smile in his voice, a welcome change from the earlier tension. For as reserved as he is, Nanami preens under any sort of compliments you give him, a chink in his armor of cool composure.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, your hands sliding down to appreciate the firm planes of his back. “It’s a shame, really. You attract too much attention. I’ve been too generous with how long I let you out of the house.”

You feel more than hear his soft chuckle, the vibration rumbling through his chest and into yours. Nanami pulls back slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours. The vulnerability from before hasn’t completely faded, but it’s tempered by a familiar spark of determination kindling in their depths. You don’t know if the subject has completely dropped. But for now, he doesn’t seem to dwell on it, content to focus on you instead.

“Well,” he begins, his voice dropping to that deep, velvety tone that never fails to send shivers cascading down your spine, “I should ensure your satisfaction. Maybe then you’ll extend my hours outside.”

Before you can respond, he’s moving. He sits up on his knees, hot hands wrapping around your waist before yanking your hips closer to him, a delicious show of strength that has your breath catching in your throat. Your giggle of surprise quickly morphs into a gasp as his lips find that sensitive spot just below your ear, tongue sliding against the skin before it trails down the rest of your body, leaving a path of desire that makes you shudder against him.

You expected a period of adjustment, a gradual return to the easy intimacy you and Nanami had always shared. But as time passed, you began to notice a shift, subtle at first, but growing more pronounced with each passing day.

That first sign of something odd presents itself on day three since that night, a quiet Saturday morning that dawns with a gentle golden light filtering through your bedroom curtains. You wake up to find Nanami’s side of the bed empty, the sheets cool to the touch. Puzzled, you pad into the living room, your bare feet silent on the cool hardwood floor, your eyes roaming the space for any sign of him.

Nanami sits at the dining table, surrounded by a veritable fortress of books, their spines forming a colorful barricade around his hunched form. His laptop glows in the morning light, casting his features in a pale blue hue, multiple tabs visible on the screen. He’s hunched over and shirtless, his bare back a canvas of dark moles, constellations you’ve traced countless times with reverent fingers, your lips mapping a path between each celestial point.

As you circle the table, drawing closer to his absorbed form, you’re struck by the intensity of his concentration, the furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw. His fingers fly over the keyboard with a single-minded purpose, a man on a mission, lost in a world of his own making.

“What are you doing up so early?” you ask, running a hand through the short, silky hair at his nape.

He glances up, and the determined glint in his eye catches you off guard. “Research,” he replies simply, as if that single word explains everything.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you lean in to examine the book titles scattered across the table, your brow rising with each passing second:

Male Sexual Health

Nutrition and Libido

Stress Management for Peak Performance

What the—?

A mix of emotions bubbles up inside you—amusement at his determination, concern for his state of mind, a touch of exasperation at his stubbornness. Part of you wants to tease him mercilessly, to watch that adorable flush creep up his neck, to see him squirm under your playful attention. But you bite your tongue, sensing the fragility of the moment, the rawness of his exposed insecurities.

“Ken,” you begin, your voice a delicate balance of understanding and concern, “is this about what happened the other night? I thought we talked about this, baby.”

“We did,” he nods, not looking up from his screen. “And I appreciate your understanding. But I can’t let it happen again. I’m going to fix this.”

There’s so much you want to say, so many reassurances you want to offer. You want to tell him how normal this is, how surprised you are that it hasn’t happened more often given his grueling work schedule. But you bite your tongue, sensing that this is something Nanami needs to process on his own.

“Don’t you think this might be…a bit much?” you try one last time, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his bare shoulder, careful not to make him feel defensive and push him further into his own head.

“Nothing is too much when it comes to satisfying you.”

And with those words, spoken with such conviction, such raw honesty, your heart swells, a tidal wave of love and affection crashing over you. He won’t be swayed, and there’s no point in trying to argue with him when he’s set on something. You can’t help but sigh fondly, running your fingers through his hair again, your nails gently scratching his scalp in the way you know he loves. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment, a low groan of appreciation rumbling from his chest as he guides your fingers to just the right spot.

As Nanami launches into an explanation of the benefits of Ashwagandha root, his fingers running along a line of text in one of the magazines, you can’t help but shake your head affectionately. You love this man, even (or perhaps especially) when he’s being ridiculously over-the-top, his determination to be the best partner he can be, even if it means diving headfirst into a world of herbal remedies and performance-enhancing techniques.

The days slip by, each one blurring into the next, a haze of normalcy tinged with an undercurrent of unease. It’s not until the morning of day ten that the true extent of Nanami’s newfound obsession becomes impossible to ignore.

The soft schick of his razor fills the bathroom, a rhythmic counterpoint to the rush of running water. He stands before the mirror, shirtless, a towel draped over his broad shoulders to catch stray flecks of shaving cream. You watch, transfixed, as he meticulously glides the razor along the sharp line of his jaw, each stroke precise, measured.

You stand beside him, your own morning ritual underway, massaging a rich, creamy lotion into your melanin-kissed skin. Your favorite scent of vanilla fills the air, mingling with the crisp, clean aroma of Nanami’s shaving cream. It’s a familiar dance, this shared moment of grooming, of preparation for the day ahead.

But as you reach for your leave-in, your eyes catch on something new, something that sends a jolt of surprise through your system. There, amidst the clutter of skincare products and toiletries, sits a new addition to the growing collection of bottles on the counter. The mustard-yellow label boldly proclaims: “Maca Root: For Vitality and Stamina”.

“Ken?” you murmur, plucking the bottle from the counter, your eyebrows dipping in confusion. “What’s this?”

Nanami’s eyes flick to yours in the mirror, his hand pausing mid-stroke, the razor hovering just above his skin. “Just a supplement,” he evades, his voice carefully neutral, a forced casualness he uses to avoid arguments he won’t win that always sets your teeth on edge. “For…overall health.”

You turn the bottle in your hands, eyebrow arching higher in disbelief with each word you read as you take in the bold, almost aggressive labeling. Your gaze darts to the other bottles littering the counter, a growing sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach as you take them in for the first time.

“Uh-huh. And the Zinc? The Ginseng? The…” you squint at another label, your voice dripping with skepticism, “L-arginine? All for ‘overall health’ too?”

He clears his throat, his gaze darting away from yours, focusing intently on his reflection as he studiously avoids your probing stare. “That’s right.”

“Baby—” you begin, but he cuts you off, setting down his razor with a definitive clink and shutting the water off, turning to face you fully.

The sight of him, bare-chested and gleaming under the harsh fluorescent light, sends a bolt of desire through you, a hunger that’s been left unsatiated for far too long. The thick cords of muscle that stretch across his chest and arms, the taut planes of his abdomen, the trail of dark blonde hair that disappears beneath the low-slung waistband of his sweatpants—it’s exquisite torture, a feast for your senses after days of famine.

But there’s a tension in the set of his shoulders, a skittishness in his gaze that sets off warning bells in your head.

“It’s the research I’ve been doing,” he admits, almost apologetic as he pulls the towel from his shoulders, wiping away the last traces of shaving cream from his jaw. “From what I’ve read, these have proven benefits for…various aspects of wellbeing.”

He seems almost afraid, as if he’s bracing himself for your reaction, steeling himself against the inevitability of your displeasure. Fortunately for him, the words are like a match to kindling, a spark that ignites a flame of mischief in your belly. You step closer, your hands coming up to rest on his chest, the supplement bottle forgotten on the counter behind you.

“Various aspects, huh?” you tease, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. This moment—when he smells of fresh soap, shaving cream, and mint toothpaste before cologne masks his natural scent—is one of many favorites. It’s one of the most arousing forms of Nanami Kento before he slides on his work clothes and gives the world a straight face and measured words. “Care to demonstrate some of these benefits?”

Your fingertips trace the muscles of his chest, slide along his skin with more purpose, your nails dragging lightly over his nipples, a teasing hint of pain that you know drives him wild. He inhales sharply, his muscles tensing beneath your hands, his jaw clenched tight, a reaction that’s as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

For a moment, you think you have him, that he’ll give in to the desire that darkens his eyes, that he’ll roughly bunch your skirt up around your waist, hike your legs up and around him and make the bathroom mirror knock against your back until you’re gasping out his name as you tighten around his cock.

But then he’s stepping back, his hands coming up to gently catch your wrists, pulling your hands away from his skin.

“We’ll be late for work,” voice strained, conveying his own battling desire. He brings your hands to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the delicate skin of your wrists, your forehead, your mouth.“Let me make you breakfast instead.”

And then he’s gone, slipping past you and out of the bathroom, leaving you standing alone, frustration and disappointment warring in your chest. Your gaze falls on the supplement bottles, a physical manifestation of his growing hysteria, and for a moment, you’re seized by the urge to sweep them all into the trash, to rid your home of these unwelcome interlopers.

But you resist, drawing in a deep, steadying breath, your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you silently repeat the mantra that’s become your lifeline in recent days: I love him. I love him. I love him.

But as you square your shoulders and stalk out of the bathroom to start your day, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s got to give, that this tenuous balance can’t hold forever.

Day seventeen. It feels like an eternity, a cruel and unusual punishment for a crime you didn’t commit. You’re a prisoner in your own home, trapped in a world where the man you love is just out of reach, tantalizingly close but impossibly distant.

Seventeen days too long when you live with a man as loving, kind, and attentive as Nanami Kento. Seventeen excruciating days since the concept of getting dicked down was a given, a pleasure you could indulge in whenever the mood struck. Now, you’re reduced to grasping at sloppy seconds, thirds, fourths—anything for a crumb of cock, a fleeting taste of the intimacy you crave.

You’ve become a connoisseur of stolen moments, of fleeting glances and brushing touches that once held the promise of so much more. A shared look in the bathroom mirror that used to lead to soapy sex in the shower. The brush of his hand against the small of your back as you pass in the hallway, a touch that used to lead to him pulling you flush against his body, his lips claiming yours in a searing kiss. Now, you’re like an addict, desperately chasing the ghost of a high, sucking at nicotine-stained fingers for the essence of a hit.

In a last-ditch effort to reignite the spark to show him just how much he’s overreacting, you’ve taken to wearing his shirts around the house. You leave the top buttons undone, a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage on display, the hem riding high on your thighs to reveal the faint marks that he likes to lick against. But each night when you reach for him, Nanami simply presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips trailing a path down your body in a reverent exploration, worshiping you with his mouth and fingers until you’re trembling and spent.

But never with his cock. Never with the part of him you crave most, the part that once made you feel so deliciously full, so utterly claimed.

You feel dramatic when you think about it because it always brings tears to your eyes, hot and stinging with frustration and despair. Like you’re a petulant toddler wanting a cookie that’s been sitting on the counter all morning.

You’ve never been one to let a man dictate your life, to let his whims and insecurities hold sway over your own desires. But Nanami has always been a man to put you above and beyond anything before himself. If the women of the world knew what they were missing, if they could experience even a fraction of the pleasure Nanami Kento can provide, they’d be falling to their knees in supplication, just like you.

How far you’ve fallen.

And how little you care.

Tonight, you vow, will be different. You slip into the silk nightgown he loves, the one that clings to your every curve like a second skin, the baby blue fabric whispering against your heated flesh as you step out of the bathroom. Your heart races with anticipation, your body thrumming with need as you picture his reaction, the way his eyes will darken with desire, the way he’ll pull you into his arms and finally, finally give you what you both so desperately need.

But the bedroom is empty, the sheets still neatly made, mocking you with their pristine perfection. You frown, a sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach as you pad down the hallway, your bare feet whispering against the cool hardwood. As you approach the kitchen, a pungent, almost medicinal smell hits your senses, growing stronger with each step, mingling with the whir of a blender.

You round the corner and freeze, taking in the scene before you. Nanami stands at the kitchen counter, surrounded by an alchemist’s array of strange-looking roots and powders. The blender in front of him churns away, filled with a murky-greenish-brown liquid that looks more like something out of a horror movie than anything fit for human consumption.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice thin and strained, confusion and exasperation warring for dominance in your tone.

He looks up, startled, nearly knocking over a jar of what looks like dried herbs. “It’s…a health shake.”

You want to argue, to shake his shoulders and scream that this has gone too far, that he’s lost sight of what really matters in his quest for some unattainable ideal. But the determination in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the way he grimaces as he chokes down a sip of the vile concoction—it all speaks to a desperation that breaks your heart even as it fuels your frustration.

As he takes another sip, nose twisted to the side to avoid the foul smell, his eyes catch your frame. They roam over you, taking in the nightgown, giving you the exact reaction you pictured before coming out here.

For a moment, you see that flicker of desire in his eyes that you’ve been craving.

But then it’s gone, replaced by something that looks suspiciously like guilt.

“I’ll come to bed soon,” he promises, grimacing through another sip of his vile brew. “Get some rest. I know today was rough at work.”

His words are like a knife to your gut, a reminder of the distance that’s grown between you, the way his obsession has consumed him so completely that he can’t even see the pain it’s causing you both.

All of this, because of one night.

You press your toes into the hardwood, your fingers twisting in the hem of your nightgown as you fight back the tears that burn the corners of your eyes.

“You…you don’t want to come to bed with me?” you whisper, hating the way your voice breaks, the way the hope that once buoyed your words has been replaced by a hollow, aching despair and annoyance.

“I want to finish this and catch up on a few things for work before I come to bed.” His gaze slides away from yours, unable to meet the hurt and frustration in your eyes. Unable to see just how in his head he has become with all of this. “It’ll be a little while. Sleep for me? Please?”

The rejection, however gentle, leaves you feeling exposed and bereft, a physical blow to your gut. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak anymore, and turn to head back to the bedroom, your vision blurring.

There’s so much more to this than just you wanting to have sex. You want to be supportive, to give him time and space to work through whatever this is. But you hate just how disillusioned he has become. His gaze and his touch are tainted now—held back by shame and fear of disappointing you. And you can’t help but feel like this is getting more out of control instead of getting better.

You love him, more than anything. But right now, listening to the distant sounds of him choking down that awful-smelling shake, you’ve never felt further apart.

It all comes to a head on day twenty-five. The day dawns like any other, the sun’s warm rays filtering through the windows of your shared apartment, casting a soft glow on the well-worn furniture and the mementos of your life together. It’s your day off, a rare respite from the chaos of the work week, and you find yourself moving through the space with a sense of purpose, straightening and cleaning, trying to bring order to the disarray that seems to mirror the state of certain parts of your relationship.

As you work, your mind wanders, replaying the events of the past month like a melancholy film reel. The distance, the tension, the way Nanami has been pulling away from you, retreating into himself in a desperate attempt to fix what he perceives as a fundamental flaw in his being. Insisting that he won’t let this happen again even though he won’t actually fuck you.

It’s a weight that’s been bearing down on you both, a shadow that’s slowly suffocating the light and love that once filled every corner of your lives.

Your feet carry you to the bedroom, to the closet you share. As you reach for Nanami’s side, intent on straightening his crisp dress shirts, your hand brushes against something unfamiliar, tucked away in the shadows. Curiosity piqued, you pull it out, revealing a plain, unmarked brown box.

For a moment, your heart stutters in your chest, a cold fear gripping your insides as you lift the lid, praying that it’s nothing that would point your partner in the direction of infidelity. But no, you shake your head, banishing the thought before it can fully form. Nanami would never betray you, never seek solace in the arms of another because there’s only has and ever been you.

It makes complete sense in your head, but lately—

You yank open the lid and gape.

Inside, nestled among crumpled tissue paper, are items you never expected to find in Nanami’s possession. Your fingers tremble slightly as you examine them—a cylindrical pump, clear save for the rubber base, and an orange prescription bottle, its label stark against the translucent plastic.

You stare at the objects, your mind whirling with a chaotic storm of emotions. Shock, disbelief, a rising tide of frustration and despair. This isn’t just Nanami being health-conscious anymore, not just a passing phase or a well-intentioned attempt at self-improvement. This is something deeper, something more desperate, a manifestation of the fear and inadequacy that’s been eating away at him since that fateful night.

Carefully, you replace the items, your movements mechanical, your thoughts a jumbled mess. A part of you wants to laugh, to find the absurdity in the situation, to release the tension that’s been building in your chest like a pressure cooker. But you can’t bring yourself to even stifle a giggle, the weight of your worry too heavy.

You sink down onto the bed, the cool sheets soothing the heat of your legs, and draw in a deep, shuddering breath. The weeks of distance, avoidance, the way Nanami has been retreating further and further into himself, straying more and more from reason. There’s so much more to your relationship than just sex, but it’s a big part, a well-practiced part that you both can be your rawest selves during.

But all of this is a spiral that’s slowly dragging you both down, a vortex of unspoken fears and mounting frustrations on both ends.

And in that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your shared life in your apartment, the photos and trinkets that chronicle your love story, you know that something has to give. And it looks like you’ll have to take matters into your own hands. This ends today.

Tonight, when Nanami gets home, you’ll address this head-on. No more dancing around the issue, no more swallowing your grievances in the name of patience and nonexistent understanding. It’s time to remind him of who he is, of the man you fell in love with, the man who’s always been more than enough for you.

The sound of the front door opening pulls you from your thoughts, the soft shuffle of Nanami’s footsteps echoing down the hallway. “Love, I’m home,” he calls out, his voice weary but warm, a balm to your frayed nerves.

He appears in the doorway, his tie loosened, speckled black on yellow draped over his shoulders, the top buttons of his blue shirt undone. His glasses are gone, discarded in his haste to shed the trappings of the office, to leave the stresses of the day behind. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his eyes softening as they land on you, a reverent smile playing at the corners of his lips. “So beautiful.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his words, at the love and adoration that shines in his gaze, even though you’re in a ratty t-shirt and shorts, your curls thrown into a careless and messy bun.

“You always speak as if it’s the first time you’ve ever seen me,” you tease, tilting your head back to accept his kiss, a chaste press of his lips that nonetheless ignites a spark of longing in your core.

“Because it’s true,” he replies simply, his fingers brushing a stray curl behind your ear. “I’m going to shower.” He sounds despondent, unbelievably ragged with the weight of the day clinging to him like a second skin.

“Rough day?”

“A very rough day, my love,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, disrupting the sharp part that he makes every morning. He reaches a hand out to you, an invitation, a plea for your company. “Join me?”

The bathroom is a sanctuary of steam and heat, the air thick with the mingled scents of your body washes—cucumber melon and sandalwood. You perch on the counter, a fluffy towel wrapped around your body, watching as Nanami goes through his post-shower routine, his movements methodical, almost meditative.

Water droplets cling to his skin, tracing tantalizing paths down the planes of his chest, the ridges of his abs. Your mouth goes dry at the sight, your fingers itching to follow those rivulets, to map the contours of his body with your lips and tongue.

“Let me,” you murmur, your voice husky with repressed longing. Your legs spread, the open lapels of your towel exposing a creamy brown thigh that Nanami’s eyes flicker to before he meets your gaze. You reach for him, pulling closer until he’s standing between your parted thighs, the heat of his waist seeping through the thin barrier of your towel.

With gentle fingers, you work through the rest of his skincare routine—toner, serum, smoothing eye cream over the delicate skin beneath his lashes. The domesticity of the moment, the intimacy of caring for him like this in whatever way you can, it’s a way to show him that you’re here—that you’re not going anywhere, no matter how lost he may feel.

Your fingertips glide over his skin, applying the last of the face cream with gentle circular motions. As you finish, your hands move to his damp hair, brushing the strands away from his forehead. The strong line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the subtle crinkles at the corners of his eyes that crease faintly when he smiles.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer, a soft smile playing on your lips. Nanami’s hands come to rest on your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles on your towel-covered skin.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, thickly. His eyes, those warm pools of mahogany, are soft with gratitude and affection.

“Always,” you whisper back, your heart swelling with love for this man.

Nanami leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. It’s meant to be a simple gesture of gratitude, but something shifts in the air around you. Whether it’s the intimacy of you both so close or the heat on your skin—the kiss deepens, slow and exploratory, as if you’re rediscovering each other after a long absence.

Your fingers thread through his damp hair, tangling in the strands as his hands tighten on your waist. Your tongue slides along his bottom lip, tasting the coffee he must have had on the way home, the hint of want that he wants to crumble into. He returns with equal fervor, pressing closer to you, sliding his tongue against yours, shivering from the soft moan that shakes from your wet lips when you both finally break apart. A gossamer thread of saliva connects you before he pecks your lips one last time. Nanami’s chest rises and falls deeply, coiled masculinity oozing from his pores, tangling with the downy hairs on his chest.

“Kento,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper, “we…we need to talk about what’s been going on.”

Your hands train down his chest as you speak, mapping the familiar terrain of his body. Beneath your fingertips, his heart thunders like a trapped bird, betraying the melting calm facade he’s trying to maintain. The defined muscles of his abdomen twitch under your touch, a visceral reaction he can’t control.

“The magazines, the supplements, the smoothies,” you continue, gentle but firm. “This has gone too far. One off night, Kento. That’s all it was. Yet here you are, acting like you’re broken, like every moment we’ve shared before was somehow lacking.”

Nanami tenses, his body coiling like a spring beneath your hands. But you’re not letting him retreat—not like that night—and certainly not right now. Your legs wrap around his waist, the gap of your towel widening as you yank him closer, anchoring him to you, skin to skin.

“You think that I would look at you differently?” you murmur, catching his distressed eyes every time they try to evade your gaze, willing him to understand. “Think I would think of you as a failure? You like logic, Kento and I’m telling you the facts. You were tired, case closed.”

“But I—” he starts, his voice rough with emotion, eyes narrowing in frustration as he tries to defend himself. You silence him with a thumb to the plump skin of his bottom lip, tracing the divots of soft, pink flesh.

“You’re the healthiest man I know, Ken.” Your other hand drifts lower, brushing through the trail of dark golden hair that disappears beneath his towel. “You take such good care of us. And you never, ever fail to satisfy me.”

His breath catches as your fingers ghost over his hipbones, alternating between soft cotton and the sharp cut of his skin. “One night doesn’t change that,” you whisper, the hand on his face sliding to card through his hair, you lean in to press your lips to the strong line of his jaw. His fingers dig into your waist from your touch, Adams apple bobbing against your gliding lips as he swallows the burning desire that’s slowly searing him from the inside out. “It doesn’t make you any less amazing, any less desirable.”

You pull back, meeting his eyes. In their warm depths, you see a swirling mix of vulnerability that makes your heartache.

“I just…I don’t want to disappoint you again. While I know that you don’t care, being unable to provide for you fully is something that I never wanted to experience.” The confession is thick in the air, sloshing with what remains of the steam from the shower, coating your skin.

“Oh, Kento,” you sigh, pressing your forehead to his. The scent of his skin—clean soap and something uniquely him—envelops you, offers that blanket of protection that you couldn’t imagine going away. “The only thing disappointing me is how you’ve been pulling away. I’m tired of you feeling inadequate when you’re anything but.”

You pause, weighing the options in your head before you take a bounding leap, throwing care to the wind. Slowly, deliberately, you slide off the counter, your body brushing against his as you descend. The cool tile of the bathroom floor contrasts sharply with the heat radiating from your skin.

Kneeling before him, you look up, your gaze never leaving his. Hands slide up thick thighs, the hair on his legs brushing against your fingertips as you travel further toward the rigid heat of where you need him most. The hitch in his breath is faint, almost nonexistent when your fingers toy with the towel’s edge around his waist. You only wait a moment, three seconds too many as your hand undoes the tight knot and the towel pools at his feet and your knees on the floor.

He’s just as he always is—thick and heavy from your proximity alone, hard and filled with the blood that pumps wildly in his veins. When you wrap your hand around him, the heft of his cock makes your cunt squeeze. You know exactly what it feels like to have the most intimate part of him carving out your insides, and god do you need it right now.

You give only one stroke and the effect is instant; Nanami hisses, fingers flexing at his sides, extending and then curling in a fist as a means to keep his hands to himself, the head of his mushroom tip red and prickles with a thick gathering of precum. Just the sight makes your mouth water.

“I found those things in your closet, you know,” you purr softly, stroking him at an excruciating pace. “You actually think you need something like that, baby?”

A flush creeps up Nanami’s neck, blooming across his cheeks in rushing embarrassment even though his pupils are dilated from the sight of you on your knees. He opens his mouth to speak, fumbling for words that choke around another hitch with your next stroke.

“You don’t feel like you would need something like that.” And you don’t wait a second longer, opening your mouth, dragging the flat of your tongue up the backside of his cock. Each taste bud slides against rigid bumps of veins, gathering with more spit as he groans from your attention. You offer a gentle kiss to his tip, licking the salty taste of his precum from your lips. “You sure don’t taste like you would need something like that.”

The rise and fall of his chest is quickly leaving the pace of steady, his eyes locked on you and jaw flexing with growing desperation. You squeeze his cock on an upward stroke, your own body beginning to heat up just from watching him fall apart.

“Look at you now,” you tease, widening the gap between your knees, the heat between your legs radiating against your ankles. “You don’t look like you need help. Responding so beautifully to me. Not a hint of hesitation.”

The velvety hardness of him in your palm twitches from your words, hard steel that’s blazing hot, and just the sight of him above you is more than enough for a whine to build in your belly, an innate urge to have any part of him inside of you.

Nanami’s eyes flutter, long lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones as you lean in. When you finally take him into your mouth, your name falls from his lips like a prayer, brown eyes rolling halfway to the back of his head, eyebrows furrowing in equal confusion and pleasure.

You’re too eager to give him time to adjust—tongue swirling around the crown of his head and softening underneath him before building a nice, slobbery rhythm. In and out, in and out. Every stroke of your mouth around his cock makes your mouth water even more and your body relax, the dig of the tile on your knees forgotten.

“Fuck,” he pants, the rare curse slipping from his lips as one hand comes to rest gently on the back of your head. You hum in appreciation—in encouragement—building his confidence to squeeze the curly strands. The vibration of your hum of attention causes Nanami’s hips to buck involuntarily and you let your throat relax without thinking, let him hit the back before you swallow around him. “I-” he bites his lip, groaning from deep in his chest.

The heat of the bathroom is suffocating, your neck covered in curls prickling with sweat, sliding down your clavicle and onto the towel around your breasts that’s quickly loosening. Or maybe it’s your own body burning from the inside out, your blood pounding and surging to your core, swelling with arousal that leaks from you without even touching yourself.

And you’re dripping. The hand not at the base of him—stroking what you can’t swallow—reaches between your thighs, rubbing a clit that’s sopping wet with slick that drips between your fingers and onto the tile floor.

It doesn’t take long for that familiar ache to build in your jaw, a growing reminder of the thick cock between your mouth. But his throaty moans keep you going, keep your cunt pulsing and squeezing around the two fingers that quickly slide inside of you.

Nanami’s eyes, dark with desire, take you in—your messy hand twisting at the base of his cock, the hint of saliva on your chin, the prickle of tears at the corners of your eyes from the way he keeps hitting the back of your throat. Only he gets to see you like this. Only he gets to be with someone who will stop at nothing to make him feel supported and loved over something as trivial as a night of bad luck.

“I…you’re…” he gasps, unable to complete his thoughts when you moan around him. “Please just—just keep…don’t stop…don’t—”

As the tension builds, Nanami’s control begins to slip. His thrusts lose their measured control, the hands in your hair tighten, the quick breath from his mouth becomes tight as he bares his teeth and fucks your mouth. His abs are glistening with sweat, tight and flexing as he fights to stay sane.

You’re ready to burst from the seams, pleasure coiling at the base of your spine with each curl of your fingers inside of you, moans tight and sporadic in a familiar sign of your impending orgasm.

It’s when his eyes catch you fingering yourself that his control snaps in half, setting him off. He’s grabbing at you, yanking you from your knees with a strength that shocks you, your towel finally falling off your body and exposing you to the heat of the bathroom. Before you can protest, Nanami moves in a flourish, the last threads of his control dissolving at the shocked but excited gasp that leaves your lips.

In one fluid motion, he spins you around to face the bathroom mirror. Your breath catches at the sight of you both—flushed, desire-drunk, tanned and freckled muscles pressed against your back. His eyes meet yours in the reflection, a primal hunger burning in their depths, black eating away the warm brown.

The press of his cock against your lower back makes you arch your back, leaning over the counter without a second thought, taking him in through the mirror. His hands roam over your body with renewed confidence, cupping the heaviness of your breasts, sliding down tiger-striped brown skin to grip your hips. His eyes trail over the mess of curls on your sweaty back, the curve of your ass, the glistening of your cunt as it catches in the bathroom light.

He looks focused, almost angry—determined to make sure he does exactly what he’s supposed to do. Your body shivers in anticipation. This is the Nanami you’ve been missing—strong, confident, and utterly, deliciously yours.

Without preamble, you part your legs more, opening yourself up to his leering gaze as he watches you slide two fingers through your sopping folds. “I need you,” you whisper, your other hand kneading the flesh of a breast, pinching the nipple to make you arch your back more into him.

He presses forward at the sound of your voice, a beacon for him to bring you whatever you desire. “You have me.”

You feel him, hot and hard against you, and you can’t stifle the moan that escapes you. “All of you Kento,” you whimper, pushing back against him and stroking your clit faster, your slick sliding down your fingers to the center of your palm. “No more holding back, no more doubts. Show me how much you want me.”

In the mirror, the trepidation in his eyes, the worry between his brows. The disappointment from that night is surely playing in his head, teasing him evilly that he will never be able to make love to you again. But you won’t let him feel that way again, you’ll never let him feel inadequate. So you turn slightly to reach behind you, smooth a hand up the side of his face, caressing his jaw, angling your head to the side to kiss him softly. “You’re perfect,” you breathe, the words barely a whisper between you both, the perfect combination to relax the subtle tension in his shoulders. “So perfect for me, Kento.”

He releases a shaky exhale against your lips from your words, the vibration traveling through your body where you’re pressed together. With one hand braced on your waist, the other guiding himself, his eyes not leaving yours, Nanami pushes into you slowly. Finally. Twenty-five days too late and the feeling of completeness, of absolute rightness, is overwhelming. It’s as if a missing piece of you has been slotted back into place.

You whimper, panting into his mouth, sliding your lips messily against his. Your body stretches to accommodate him, a delicious burn that makes your toes curl and your cunt pulse around him.

“Oh fuck, Kento,” you keen, “you’re so fucking big—fill me so well—” His hips snap forward, cutting you off, a sharp cry punching from your lungs.

“I-I shouldn’t have—” he pants against your lips, ready to apologize from the force but you don’t let him finish.

“Yes,” you encourage, your voice breathy from the delicious zing of pleasure that throbs between your legs. “You feel amazing, Ken. So perfect.”

He shivers from your words and starts a slow, almost tentative rhythm. But your continued praise spurs him on. His thrusts become more confident, more forceful, driving you both higher in the stifling heat of your bathroom.

The room fills with the sounds of sex—the slick smack of skin on skin, breathless moans from his full lips, whispered praises from your mouth.

“So good,” you moan softly. “You feel so good inside me.” The hand on your clit resumes its pace, wanting Nanami to be fully immersed in focusing so he can get past this terrible roadblock in his mind.

“More,” he demands, kissing you deeply, the side of your jaw, nibbling your ear, begging you silently for more love and praise. “I-I have to know I’m doing well. That I’m making you feel good—"

“You are,” you gasp, his name a prayer on your lips as he hits that spot deep inside you that makes white spots blot the edges of your vision. “You are—you are, Kento—shit fuck me harder. Give it to me.”

He bends to your will immediately, the pull of your voice—of your demands as easy as breathing, and he’ll give whatever it takes to make sure he can lay everything at your feet. “Fuck,” he groans, digging his fingers into the meat behind your knee, yanking it up onto the counter and you’re opening more, wider for him to slide in further.

It’s messy and animalistic, a building of sweat between your sliding bodies, a gradual intensifying thrum between your legs with each smack of his balls against you. Your body jerks with each thrust, pleasure scratching down your skin with sharp nails as your mind grows hazy, mouth falling open as the tip of his cock kisses that sweet spot inside of you, over and over and over with each inward stroke. The hand on your clit flies up to grab the sweaty porcelain of the sink in front of you, fingernails digging into the rubbery sealant along the sides. The other hand reaches back to tangle your fingers in his hair.

You’ve gone almost a month without him in the most primal way and your body is struggling to keep up. Your lungs struggle to pull in enough air, your slick-coated fingers slip against the sink, your hips burn from the open angle of one leg up on the counter.

But you can’t bring it in yourself to care, too deep in bliss to worry about your wellbeing, the pressure at the base of your spine building and building, molten pleasure bubbling in your gut as you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

“That’s it, baby,” you gasp as you both climb together, meeting his thrusts as the tension coils tighter in your core. “You’re so strong. Love me so well. Fuck me so well.” Nanami groans harshly, shivering from your praise, reaching down to stroke your neglected clit, and you tense around him, choking at the pleasure that wraps around your throat, your cunt pulsing as it tries to swallow his cock and never let it leave.

You watch in the mirror as Nanami loses himself in the moment, all his doubts and insecurities forgotten. His face is a mask of pleasure and concentration, his body moving with a grace and power that takes your breath away. His hips falter, stuttering briefly to signal his match of mounting pleasure. He leans over you, his face in the crease of your neck, body bowing over to make you press further into the counter, teeth grazing your skin as he groans and pants against you with feral need.

He presses his fingers harder against your clit, rubs with a practiced motion and you’re tensing against the counter, scrambling for purchase on the sink as high-pitched keens shake from your throat. “Fuck right there, Kentooo,” you moan tightly. He moans harshly into the skin of your neck, relishing in the way your hot and wet walls tighten around him, doubling down, the fingers on your waist digging crescent moons into your skin. “Make me cum. Oh fuck, make me cum pleasepleaseplease—”

The hand in his hair tightens around silky strands, your body tenses up, your nose scrunching, pleasure pulsing and building in your cunt as you climb and climb and climb until you shatter.

A cry of his name, loud and primal, rips from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. Ecstasy floods your system in overwhelming waves, each one threatening to pull you under. Tears gather in the corners of your tightly shut eyes, born from the sheer intensity of your release.

And like always, your pulsing walls are the final push Nanami needs. He thrusts into you harshly with deep punctuating strokes until his balls draw tight, fingers digging deeper, a deep, guttural groan shaking from his body as he finally climbs up that wall of shame and follows you over the edge, his release pulsing hot and deep inside you as your body continues to shudder with aftershocks.

Nanami doesn’t have the energy to pull out, collapsing onto you without grace. The cool counter against your cheek is a balm for your burning skin. As you both come down from your high, trembling and panting, you stroke his scalp with the hand still twisted in his sweaty hair, fading spots behind closed eyelids painting your vision.

After a few moments, Nanami stirs, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder before carefully withdrawing from your body. You whimper at the loss, but he soothes you with another soft kiss on your temple. You hear the sound of running water, the tub filling slowly as Nanami retrieves a warm, damp washcloth.

With tender care, he cleans you up, the soft cloth gliding over your sensitive skin. His touch is reverent, worshipful, as if he’s handling something precious beyond measure, and you melt further onto the counter. Once you’re clean, he guides your leg down from the counter, massaging the muscles of your hips and thighs to ease any lingering tension.

You let him lead you to the tub, sighing in bliss as you sink in the hot, soothing water. Nanami climbs in behind you, pulling you back against his chest as he settles you between his legs. The heat seeps into your aching muscles, the steam smelling faintly of lavender, the gentle lapping of the water against your skin a soothing lullaby.

For a long moment, you simply rest together, your head tipped back on his shoulder, his arms wrapped securely around your waist as a thumb strokes the skin. The bathroom is quiet, save for the occasional drip of the faucet and your slow, even breathing.

Your mind drifts to the vulnerability you’ve witnessed in Nanami, the raw, unguarded moments he’s bared his deepest fears and insecurities. And only you will be the one to see that. You’ll be the only one to build him back up when he’s stripped down, to remind him of his worth, to love through every storm. Even storms that are as weak and barely damaging as limp dick.

“Thank you,” he finally speaks, rich voice vibrating against your skin, filling you with warmth from the inside out. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply as if to memorize the smell of your leave-in. “For being patient with me…for being supportive…” You feel the tension drain from his body as he exhales, slowly, as if he’s releasing the last of his worries into the steam-filled air. “I love you. Deeply.”

You smile softly to yourself at the declaration and turn your head to meet his gaze, your eyes sparkling with a mix of adoration and mischief.

“This wasn’t an easy assignment you know,” you tease, your voice lighthearted even as emotion threatens to overwhelm you. “I expect payment for my unwavering devotion.”

Nanami’s eyes, hazy with post-orgasmic bliss, roll playfully, a smile tugging the edges of his lips. “What’s my bill?”

"Moissanite,” you declare matter-of-factly, nestling back against his broad chest with a contented sigh. “The carats are up to you, but—“

“A gold band,” Nanami interjects, warm with affection and certainty. “Emerald cut. I have it memorized, my love.”

He punctuates his words with a tender kiss to your temple, his arms tightening around you as if he never wants to let go. Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, a kaleidoscope of butterflies set free by his words.

“The box in the closet? Throw the penis pump and the Viagra in the trash,” you add, playfully jabbing your elbow into his side. “You won’t be needing those anymore.”

Nanami’s laughter rumbles through you, a deep, satisfying sound that fills the room and washes over your skin like a physical caress. “And if I want to be prepared, just in case?” he counters, his tone light and teasing.

“You’re 28, not 50,” you remind him, your own laughter mingling with his.

“Humor me.”

“I guess I could gather up all the magazines, powders, supplements, and various “aids” and present them to you in a nice box for you to use one day. Of course, you’d be single, so I’m not sure what good they’d do you then.”

Nanami’s body shakes with mirth, his breath puffing warm and sweet against your hair. “In the trash they go.”

You hum in agreement, an eyebrow raised before you tilt your chin. And like always, because you never have to ask, Nanami obliges, his lips slanting over yours in a slow, deep caress that steals your breath and fills your heart all at once.

Thanks for reading!

[eyebagshawty]

Hello! May I request Lae’zel, Karlach, and whoever else you want to write being washed by the reader. I find the idea of bathing and taking care of someone to be really sweet.

Headcanons + Blurbs for Being Taken Care of/Washed by Tav

A/N: Hello! Sorry for just getting around to requests and other things now, the end of the semester got pretty crazy (at least I passed everything !) and now I’m finally able to focus and get out of this rut. Thank you for your patience and I hope you like it!

Characters: Lae’zel, Karlach, Shadowheart, Wyll, Gale, Astarion, Halsin

Part 2

Lae’zel

• When you first offer to wash up with Lae’zel she’s mostly confused and kind of annoyed - there’s already a tadpole in her head, and that’s enough lack of privacy.

• “Chk. At my crèche these things are normal. However, you istiks insist on attaching emotional meaning to such things… no.”

• However the more she thinks about it… you two have shared a bed more than once. She respects you more than the others; when she tells you to speak she also makes sure you know she will listen. She supposes that maybe connection wouldn’t be so bad with you of all people.

• She just walks up to your tent, grabs your hand, and says “Fine.”

You meet her at the waterfront and- is she nervous? Her gaze wavers between you and the night sky, feet firmly planted into the ground and arms across her armored chest. You get most of your armor off, but that last clasp just has to give you trouble. “Lae’zel, could you help me out with this?” It’s silent for a tension filled moment, and you’re about to ask again.

“Chk.” She walks over and with ease undoes the clasp. She’s back to feet firmly planted and arms crossed, only looking at the sky. You unfurl your hair from its practical braid and keep your eyes on her. “I wish I could show you the Tears.” Your eyes widen when you think about the first night she invited you to her bunk, how hard getting used to this unusual plane must be for her. You place your hand on her shoulder and she tenses, but relaxes after she’s brought back to the moment.

“I wish I could see them.” You whisper to her. You ‘help’ her out of her armor (she’s just letting you at this point, she could’ve been out of it in 30 seconds flat) and you both hiss as you enter the cold water. After a soft and asking touch, she allows you to undo her hair and wash it. You gather her hair gently into your hands and have her lean back to the water. As she does, you can see that she clearly hasn’t been this vulnerable in maybe ever. You give a soothing stroke to her scalp and she hums. As you lather the looted soap into her hair and scratch your nails lightly, you hear her sniffle.

“Lae’zel… are you alright?” You stop your ministrations but keep a hand cupped at the back of her neck.

“My-my queen is false. I will never ascend. Tsk’va, I’m an enemy to my kin. I don’t want to be on this plane anymore… I miss the astral. I must fight but I do not know how to keep going.” She quickly wipes her tears and looks at you. “Speak, source of my bruises. I will always listen.”

With her hair looking clean, you slowly move the bar between her shoulder blades and move it in soothing circles. You kiss her temple. “My love, this situation is quite a mess. Tadpoles in our heads, endless injuries, and I cannot imagine what this world must be like for someone who has never been in it. We will get through this. I’m here. I’m yours.” With that she shows an inkling of a smile as she stares into the water in thought. You continue to bathe her with soft kisses in between every swipe of soap along with words of reassurance. You are hers, the source of her bruises.

Karlach

•Once Karlach is able to touch people again, she is ecstatic to wash up with you. She’s barely been able to keep her hands off of you since, so when you offer she squeals.

• “Of fucking course soldier! Who knows, we might even be able to turn that river into a hot spring.” Her eyebrows waggle and your face goes beet red.

• When you meet her she definitely cannonballs into the water and complains when it’s shallow

• “Aw hells, that’s gonna be a kink to work out in the morning.”

• You guys don’t bathe for a good 15 minutes, she’s just kissing you and rubbing your sides and it’s so SWEET

She breaks away from the kiss and wades further into the water. You grab the soap from the grass and follow after, settling your arms around her neck and wrapping your legs around her waist. Her fingers come up to pinch your nose and she flops backwards into the water, leaving both of you sopping wet when she comes back up. “Gods Karlach you’re gonna kill me,” you sputter as you cough out the bit of water that got in your mouth. She pats your back and lets out a full bellied laugh.

“That’s right soldier get it all out,” she grins. You shoot her a playful glare. When your collective giggles finally die down, you bring the bar of soap up to her hair and begin lathering and spreading it with your fingers. Her eyes close with a serene smile. You make sure to get the area around her horns, and she kisses your cheeks as you take care of them. “You know… after Gortash. After… Avernus. Nobody has taken care of me like this in so long. So fucking long.” She sighs as you bring the bar to her neck and chest, taking away the near pints of blood the party had spilled earlier.

“I’ll make sure it never is that way again. I love you, and no matter what happens you deserve to be free from all of this.” You meet her gaze as the bar moves to her shoulders, and you see fear.

“Tav… my heart.” She lets out a choked sob and a tear streams down her cheek that you immediately wipe away. “I finally have you after so godsdamn long, and I don’t want to lose what’s most important. Not again. I’m just so scared.” She breaks down into tears and her skin heats up warmly under your skin. You crush her into your chest and she buries her face into your neck, where you rub soothing circles into her scalp along with kisses.

“You won’t lose me. Whether it be in Baldurs Gate or Avernus, I’ll be here.” She lifts her head and you kiss her nose, where a little flame sparks and then snuffs out. She lets out a soft chuckle as her mood cools. “I promise to you we’re gonna kill that pathetic little fucker and anyone who helped him.” Her lips meet yours and you kiss back with eager passion. As you pull away you go back to soothingly rubbing the bar across the planes of her back.

“Wait- didn’t you grab this soap off a dead guy?! GROSS soldier!”

Shadowheart

•She immediately says no

•Not because she doesn’t trust you, she just can’t swim and finds it a bit embarrassing for her powerful presence

•After you finally convince her it’ll only be where she can stand, she agrees.

• “A bottle of wine, my lover, and a nice grassy beach? It’ll do,” she gives a sarcastic but playful smile.

•You two get plastered on Chultan Fireswill before you hop in

After one last swig from the bottle Shadowheart takes your hand and leads you into the water. You stop at around three feet deep and get to your knees. Her braid whips around her shoulder as she serenely begins to scrub away blood with the soap bar. “I love this silver color so much. It illuminates you as some would say,” you utter softly, and she chuckles. She slowly takes her hair out of the braid’s confines and your jaw drops at how long and pretty it is as it flows down her back. You look pointedly to the bar of soap. “May I?”

She squints at you in playful suspicion then smiles. “You may.” You lather the soap into her hair and she lays her head back into your chest as you scratch lovingly at her scalp. She brings her hand up to your cheek behind her and whispers, “The moon looks beautiful tonight.” As soon as the words leave her lips the wound in her hand opens. She hisses and sits back up. As she looks back to you, her gaze looks broken. “After everything I’ve been through with the dark lady, I don’t think this will ever go away.”

You inch your hand closer to hers, placing your pinkies over each other. “It’s horrible… what she did to you.” She grins bitterly but moves to interlace your fingers, rubbing the back of your hand with her thumb.

“I just wish I could remember any of that horrible stuff. I want to be angry. But mostly I’m only numb. She was… she was everything to me. And although it is horrible yes, it’s all so new. Being away from her.”

She nods in confirmation as you move the bar of soap to her chest, the motions soothing her and making her eyes soften as she watches you. “I understand,” you whisper as you lean up to kiss the shell of her pointed ear. That’s all that needs to be said, Shadowheart thinks to herself. You’ve become more than her greatest companion in her eyes, she trusts you’ll be there through thick and thin. “We’ll just have to make new memories,” you smile, and as you finish rubbing the soap across her body you throw it back to the grass, pulling her into a loving kiss as she wraps her arms around your neck.

Wyll

•When you offer to wash up with Wyll a MASSIVE blush runs across his cheeks

• “Are you sure? ImsurethehornsfreakyououtandtheresbumpsinotherstrangeplacesIdontwantyou-“ he basically starts talking at a mile a minute about how it might be awkward for you

• “Wyll honey, I can just meet you there while you’re already in if that’s more comfortable for you” and you give him a sweet smile and his face goes red AGAIN

By the time you get to the waterfront, you see Wyll propped against a rock, the water resting at waist level with his arms propping him up. You throw him a shy smile. He has a sly grin and nods your way, beckoning you towards him. You twirl your finger and mouth, “Turn around!” He lets out a silent chuckle and turns his head towards the mountains beyond the lake.

You slide out of your evening clothes and grab the soap bar laying on top of your towel. As you wade further into the water you let out a shriek — it wasn’t winter right? Wyll turns around and laughs at the sight; you’re rubbing your arms with chattering teeth. “It is quite frigid tonight, huh? I think I’ve got a cantrip in me for a special someone.”

You look around, bemused, as to how spells could possibly help you out here. Wyll shoots a fireball into the depths of the water, your skin instantly warming up. However, it doesn’t last long as the lake cools back down to freezing. You swim at the speed of light over to Wyll and wrap your arms around his neck. “Sorry, I just need something. By the nine hells you think a blizzard would be rolling through,” you laugh. When you’ve warmed up enough, you take the bar of soap and gingerly begin to wash and lather his hair and horns, kissing the scars across his face.

Wyll looks down at you, surprise slathered across his face as you finish up with his head and move to his broad shoulders, kissing everything infernal you can find. “Tav…you like this?” He brings up a hand to your cheek as you continue your ministrations. You cup water in your hands and gently rinse away the soap on his chest.

“Of course I do, Mizora could make you look fully cambion and I would still have the strongest of feelings for you. You’ll always be my dashing, strong, Blade of Frontiers,” you peck his neck with each last word, and he laughs, kissing your forehead with a soft cherishing smile.

Gale

• When you offer to Gale, he gives you the most devious look you’ve ever seen

• He hasn’t been around others for so long till now, much less bathing with anyone, and he’s grown pretty strong feelings for you so he love love loves this idea

• “My dear Tav I would love to! You know how I enjoy your body after a battle, all the sweat covering your skin and the flush of your cheeks”

• He’s not your quietest companion so everybody does hear this and everybody does let out an exasperated groan

• Your face flushes even further than when you asked him and you squeak out an okay and run to your tent

When you meet up with Gale at the waterfront, his tunic is already off, showing his surprisingly wonderful muscles. He kisses you upon greeting, and helps you out of your evening clothes with a soft caress here and there on every part of your body. You grab your soap and lead him into the water, the water being just warm enough for your plans.

He gathers you into his lap, his cheeks a light red as he grins up at you. You lather the soap and scrub it into his hair, listening to his groans and praises as you work. You kiss his cheeks as you move to his chest, and he finally opens his eyes again, looking up at you with those big round puppy eyes.

“This is surprisingly wonderful. I remember doing things like this for her, running water through her hair and lathering the finest oils onto her skin, but she never once did anything for me.” You stop your work, looking up to his eyes with an expression of shock and sadness. His eyes bore just as strongly into yours, and his thumbs rub circles into your hips.

“Gale… you are worthy of being loved. What she did to you wasn’t right — it never was, even from the beginning if I’m getting my facts straight. She isolated and took from you. I never want you to feel like that with me.” You kiss his cheeks and his hairline, and his lips follow yours, chasing to press them together.

They finally do, and his kiss is filled with eager passion, pouring every thought he’s had about you into you. When you pull away he lets out a soft whine, bringing his hand to your neck. “I’m in love with you, darling. And I know and trust that you feel the same, any need of the tadpole be damned.” You smile and begin to continue rubbing the soap into his stomach, but he stops you. He brings his lips to yours once more, and he rolls you over onto your back in the water, letting you prove how loved he is.

Astarion

• His eyes go soft and round when you ask him

• “Really?? Little old me??” Even after the graveyard and all your reassurances, he’s still moving towards actual coupley things

• “You’ve never wanted a luxurious meal and bath together my love?” You take his hand stroke his fingers with care

• If he could blush he would, but he just sputters with the goblet of wine he has

• He collects himself back into charming mode, “Well then, I thought you’d never ask. Come find me when you’re ready.” He kisses your cheeks and literally just walks off into the woods, leaving you standing at the entrance to your shared tent looking absolutely befuddled

When you find him at the hot spring the camp had discovered last night, he’s already in the water with his eyes closed angling his head towards the night sky. His ears twitch as he hears you begin to take off your evening clothes, and his eyes open to look at you with a rakish smile. “Why hello, my treasure. The water feels amazing.” You smile, grab your soap and head in. Immediately you groan with relief, the hot water soothing the aches from your nasty fight with some undead earlier.

Astarion moves closer to you, taking the most warmth he can get. You bring your arms around his neck and just stay there for a minute. He hugs you back, burying his face into the crook in your shoulder. You fingers lightly stroke against his raised scars in a loving motion, and after his breath hitches he melts into your touch, practically purring as you lavish him with affection. When you pull away his loss of heat is devastating. However, he calms down when you begin to wash his hair, scratching at his scalp and running the hot water over his curls.

“I don’t think I’ve ever let anyone touch my hair like this,” he mumbles. You kiss his cheek and move the bar to his chest and shoulders, working out any aches and pains he might have.

“Well, now you have me my love,” you whisper, kissing the tip of his ear.

“I just can’t believe that after everything you want to stay. The sky is beautiful tonight, but it is all I will ever know once this mindflayer business is said and done with.” His words are bitter, almost as if he is angry with himself.

“It is all we will know my love. And I’m actually quite the night owl. As much as I love our ragtag group, I’m quite introverted around most of society. Everything is fine,” you kiss his bite marks, the hollows of his cheeks, and finally his lips. He kisses you back fervently, pouring care he was never able to show for anyone else previously. You pull away and finish gently washing the rest of his body in silence. As you prop your neck to the side for him, he looks at you with an expression akin to great offense.

“Darling! I thought you knew me well enough to know the bath is never over after only soap.” He waves his hand over to the small crate of oils he’d brought to the spring. “Now, I’m feeling lavender tonight. How about you my love?”

You give him a beaming smile, wading out of the spring to retrieve it. “Sounds wonderful, my heart.”

Halsin

• You don’t even really have to ask him, he’s just joined you most of the time to protect you

• He doesn’t like you venturing out in to the woods by yourself, because Silvanus help him a lot of people are after you guys

• “Of course my heart — Scratch is licking at his paw a bit so I need to inspect that, but I will join you in just a couple of minutes.”

• With an encouraging woof from Scratch, you caress his shoulder and go to collect your things

You’ve stuffed all the stuff needed for the bath into two large bags, your arms making you crouch downward with the weight. As Halsin walks to meet you he sees this, chuckles, and wild shapes into his bear form. He takes the bag handles into his mouth and nudges your leg with his snout. You pet his head and hop onto his back, him letting you ride on it as you both make your way to the water.

On arrival, you hop off and he drops the items into the grass. As his bear form is used most in combat, you grab out a bottle of soap you’d nicked off of that crazy dog handler in Rivington. You drizzle it all over his fur and gather some of the river water into a bucket. You begin scrubbing the soap into his fur, and he lets out cute little groans and growls. When you finish you dump the bucket of water onto him, and he lets out a noise of surprise. He turns back into regular Halsin, his hair soaked down against his head with playful exasperation.

“My heart, you did not need to release the full power of a waterfall onto me I assure you.” You laugh and beckon him into the water. He wades in and smothers you with kisses.

“Halsin please! I need to breathe!” You giggle, pushing at his chest. He finally settles down, pulling you into his lap.

“Thank you for helping me with the shadow curse. Thaniel he… he needed us. He needed you.” He settles into a somber smile, nuzzling his nose against your temple.

You trace your fingers across his chest, leaving kisses that follow. “I knew the lands needed our help, and I’m glad he’s free from the curse. All we have left is this elder brain, and we can go back to the grove and live in peace.”

He tilts your chin up with his hand, and looks tenderly into your eyes. “I would be blessed by Silvanus to spend my thousands of years with you.” He crashes his lips into yours, one of many you’ll share over the passage of time.

[mockerycrow]

HELLO the biggest congrats on 4k, you absolutely deserve that and so many more!!!

Could I see a female!reader x Ghost with the prompt:“I had a nightmare . . . can I stay with you tonight?”

TY and yet again, congratulations 🤍🤍🤍

REASSURANCE (Ghost x Fem!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

authors note; thank you so much anon <3 i hope you enjoy!

[WARNINGS; not proofread (like most of my fics), silent panic attack + light dissociation, implied you’ve never seen his face, hurt/comfort.]

You know Ghost has nightmares—everyone knows Ghost has nightmares. No one really wants to talk about it because he doesn’t, but everyone has seen the man up at ungodly hours of the night, or perhaps beating the absolute shit out of a punching bag at the on-base gym.

No one except for Price knows what Ghost’s been through, but no one really questions him. It’s unrealistic to think Ghost is the only one waking up due to their dreams—even Price does on the occasion. What Ghost doesn’t do is ask for help.

You had a weird gut feeling about tonight; you weren’t really restless, but you weren’t tired. Every time you laid down to try to get some sleep, your eyelids would slowly open back up. You tried multiple methods; white noise, thinking about nothing, thinking about a story, taking a sleep remedy—nothing.

You had a weird tightness in your stomach that you couldn’t shake. It’s no big deal, you’ve had several nights like this. Nights where you stay up, half expecting something to happen. You aren’t sure if its the military-esque anxiety flaring up, expecting an attack of some sort or if it’s just one of those nights.

You’re laying in bed, trying to think of what you have to do tomorrow. Might as well try to think of something useful, right? Let’s see, you have to do morning training and then you have to eat, brief with price, it’s your turn to help the armourer—the weapons master, you like to say to piss them off—and you also have to do paperwork.

A very tame evening, you think, avoiding the Q word everyone oh so desperately hates; including yourself. Because the second you say it, you’re going to be called by Laswell, or General Shepherd, or some other CIA federal agent bureaucrat about some fucking thing that’s happening in the god forsaken world that only, and only task force 141 can handle—

—Someone knocks on your door, breaking your disorganized thoughts. Your eyebrows furrow; no one should be up, maybe Price is, or Ghost. Did you forget some paperwork? You sit up, slip your slides on your feet, and you walk to the door. You unlock the door and open it, wincing from the bright light of the hallway pouring in, and you’re met with the large figure of Ghost.

You blink, unsurprised. “Hey.” You utter. “Did I wake you?” God, Ghost sounds rough. It sounds like he garbled glass—er, maybe that isn’t the nicest way to describe one of your superiors voices right now. It’s clear he just woke up. You shake your head in response, stepping aside. “Here, come in. It’s bright.”

Ghost silently obeys, stepping inside of your room. You close the door and head over to your desk. You feel around in the darkness until you feel your lamp and you click a button, turning it on, illuminating the room just enough for you to see Ghost. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants with one of his black, long-sleeve compression tops to go with it.

He’s wearing a basic black balaclava without the iconic skull, but.. His eyes are different. Distant and weary, cautious—panicked almost. Your eyebrows furrow together as his broad shoulders are tense, fists clenched.

“Ghost..” You call softly. He seems far away—he needs your help. “Ghost.” You say more insistently and louder, noticing the way his chest is barely moving. “Ghost, hey, can y’hear me? You need to take a breath..” You murmur, slowly approaching him.

He’s frozen but you see how his eyes flicker towards you, taking a moment realize where he is. You offer a soft smile you always show him and you nod. “There you are, big guy. Can I touch you?” You make sure to ask because you never know; a soldier during a flashback, touching them? That can be fatal—you trust Ghost as you don’t think he would ever hurt you, but you never know a person.

It takes him a moment to nod, which makes you promptly and gently grab his wrists. You gently guide him to your bed, and you sit him down. You’re nervous—you’re about to calm him down in one of the only ways you know how to, but you’re worried about the consequences you’ll receive afterwards. Oh well, you don’t care, not when Ghost’s eyes are as unfocused as they are.

The bed dips under his weight and you gently spread his legs, standing between them. You grab his arms; they’re deadweight, but his eyes flicker some recognition, allowing you to guide his arms around your waist. You guide his head to lay against your stomach, your hands cradling his masked jaw and the back of his neck.

Ghost takes in a harsh, shuddery breath which makes you hum in approval. “There you go, Ghost. Breathe, you’re alright.” You say in a mellow manner, your thumb brushing over his masked cheek. Ghost takes in another harsh breath as his arms tighten around you. You continue to try to ground him, talking and praising him for his efforts to stay calm. You know he isn’t in the right mind, but you’re still shocked he’s allowed you to touch him for as long as you have.

Something in your gut unravels as Ghost pulls his head away ever so slightly, ripping his mask off and throws it away like it was constricting his breathing. He buries the side of his face back into your stomach, taking you by surprise. Your met with his blonde hair in the low light, your heart stuttering.

You hesitate only for a moment before you bury a hand in his hair on the back of his head, your other hand returning to his jaw, your heart hammering as you note he has stubble as well as something on his skin, like deep scar tissue.

Ghost lets out a noise which you quickly hum in response. “It’s okay, let it out.. Won’t tell anyone about this, okay?” You assure him, causing another noise to escape him, almost like a laugh. “Kinda hard t’do that when a pretty girl is comfortin’ you.” He croaks, his voice broken—both his voice and sentence making your brain short circuit. You laugh in return, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Shush,” You murmur. “Just relax.”

Ghost nods against your stomach, shakily exhaling. You stay like that for a while; neither of you are sure for how long, and neither of you care. You’re enjoying the rare vulnerability Ghost is displaying, and he’s enjoying the grounding touch you’re currently providing him. The silence is comforting as you comb your fingers through his hair, and you enjoy the weight of his head and his arms.

“I had a nightmare…” Ghost utters. You hold your breath as he looks up at you, and oh god, he’s hot. “..Can I stay with you tonight?” You’re mesmerized by the way his nose is curved—clearly has been broken a couple of times and wasn’t reset right—by the way his eyebrows are furrowed, his big, beautiful brown eyes.. You nearly forget to respond. “Yes,” You push out, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the tension between his brows. “Always.”

[begginmonty]

Thinking about Mike avoiding you after you saw him beating that man in the fountain ‘cause in his mind you think that he’s a monster and never want to see him again

(Sorry for any mistake, that’s not my first language)

dont apologise hun!

you worked at the coffee stand in the mall. wasn't the best pay and perhaps the hours were sometimes a little too long but you got to work in the same building as your boyfriend so, it wasn't the end of the world.

you were busy cleaning the counter, "is that mike-? y/n! y/n!" your co-worker called you and you quickly walked over to where she was, following her eyesight and suddenly there was your boyfriend tackling a man into a fountain. "oh my god" you mumbled, practically jumping over the counter and running to where you boyfriend was beating the ever living fuck out of some guy. but you knew mike, he wasn't one just to spring attacks, there had to be a good cause for this, a decent enough reason. you watched as your boyfriend was pulled off the guy by jeremiah, his coworker, and everyone was crowding around, and thats when mike had made eye contact with you. there was a confused look upon your face which he mistook for fear and disappointment. "wha-" you had mouthed, motioning to what had happened but he quickly had looked away.

you'd picked mike up from the police station that evening and he hadn't muttered a single word to you nor made eye contact with you. the car journey was silent, and when you arrived home he just got out the car and into the house. you'd sighed and gotten out the car, and walked into the house, max shared a quizzical look at you. "yeah, i dont know. thanks for watching abby though" you handed her a $30 and she said her goodbyes before leaving.

"what's wrong with mike?" abby had asked, you didn't want to tell her anything. so you told her he'd had a long day and that she should be getting ready for bed. you tucked her up in bed and left her to sleep.

the evening carried on and you wanted to let mike collect himself before you spoke to him, he needed space sometimes and you totally respected that. but by like 10pm, he was still in the room. you had knocked a few times on the door but you were met with silence. he finally emerged from the bedroom around 11pm to find you sat on the couch watching tv. "baby?" you spoke up, but he ignored you and went off into the kitchen to grab water, "mike? hello?" you'd stood up now and made your way over to him, blocking him so he couldn't walk away, he was face forward, leaning against the counter staring out into space "baby, please talk to me" mike hated how your voice sounded sad, he didn't want to make you sad.

"i'm not mad at you or anything mike, i promise, i just want you to talk to me" you said softly, walking behind him and hugging him from behind, "im not sure what happened but i promise you mike, i am not mad at you or anything like that, okay?"

"im sorry" his voice was quiet, "i just, uh, it looked like he was taking the kid y'know, and then you were there and you looked scared of me and i-"

"i could never be scared of you" you mumbled into his shoulder, pressing a kiss there "we can talk about it later, lets just go to bed yeah?"

mike nodded, and the two of you went to bed.

(its a bit shit soz<;3)

[visibleclosedeyes]

Gap in my heart (Literally)

pairing: Mr. Gap x reader

“Hello”

While you prepare to work in your bedroom–doing your makeup and hair, putting on your uniform–ready for the day ahead, a chilling but familiar voice calls you. 

“Mr. Gap? Uh. Me not play,” You said without turning your head toward the voice. Since the day you managed to get out of that  Otherworld, Mr.Gap has consistently shown up in your space in the gap in the wall, in different containers, and so forth. At this point, you kinda have a domestic relationship together. Boyfriend? You wouldn’t go that far, but something is there. 

“Disappointed” Mr. Gap narrowed his eyes before asking another question 

“Where go?”

“Same place every day, Mr. Gap. Working. uh–Me work, same work.”

“Why?” He asks, eyes still narrowed–displaying an unreadable expression that you guess to be some kind of discontentment. It surprised you really–Mr. Gap isn’t a high-maintenance type and he never asked you these questions before. What changed?

“Uh…Work hunger gone,”

“Work stop hunger?” He seems interested now. 

“Not exactly. Work gives things, and things get food.” You try again to explain to Mr. Gap the concept of monetary exchange and bill to the best of your ability. 

“....not understand, residents don’t need work. Why work?”

“Humans need work, me human…Mr. Gap, why curious now?” You ask a question of your own. 

“Me bored, Stay,” 

“Can’t. Need work,”

“Disappointed” He responds, the conversation sounds like it goes back to the very beginning. 

“Give finger?”

“No,”

“Disappointed” He repeats yet again before disappearing. 

Working is hard. Living in the human world is hard. You know this already but it seems like every day her co-workers really remind her of that fact. Today is just another day of demoralizing work days. Getting yelled at by your boss because of your co-worker's mistake is not fun. In the parking lot, you are sitting there with a cigarette between your fingers contemplating whether or not to murder your co-worker, literally speaking. Suddenly between the gap in the wall opposite to you, a familiar pair of eyes pop up.

“Hello”

“Mr. Gap??! How did you..? Oh right, you can show up in any gap,”

“Human trouble?”

“Its nothing, just hard day at work,”

“Me solve problem, give me finger,”

“What? No! Not give finger,”

“Boring. Goodbye,”

Almost every day was the same old same old—your co-worker is an annoying asshole who purposefully caused issues just so he could blame it on you.

“Where are the documents the boss asked you to do?” Speaks of the devil… the most annoying face among the co-workers in this shitshow of a company has shown up like a fucking ghost the moment she starts thinking about her job

“What? What documents?” She answers truthfully. What fucking documents? And why is she hearing this just now?

“Seriously, the boss wants you to be the one to do it. you’re seriously irresponsible. Why did they even hire you?” He said with such a fake shocked expression on his face. Wait, so the boss told him…

"Boss told you this and you never told me?” she asked him in disbelief

"You never ask me to tell you, you should have been more active,” He snickers with a smug smile. Oh, this irritating fucker.

2 months and 1 week. She has sworn off killing people for exactly two months. Like a proud ex-addict, she wears that pride quietly on her mind, unable to announce how prideful she is for not killing some random pedestrians who show up in an abandoned apartment. She wants to keep it that way, but this man seems to be testing her patience. She is going to lose it and kill this guy on his way home. 

"There is still time left. You can take responsibility and be active for once. Give me a call once you are finished!”

your palms curl into a fist full of hate and rage–this man has no idea who he is up against. She fantasizes about the different ways she would go about killing him. Her regular method of a crowbar to the head would be the safest route but this guy is a piece of shit to her so far and she wants to do something special for him.

No, she doesn't want to kill these days. Hunting and killing seems to be a hobby she lost interest in a while ago. Now, she simply wishes for a more simple life after all those lives she proudly took. 

(not finish)

One day, when she was working as per usual–she hears the sound of that asshole screaming from the restroom

"I swear! I saw it there! a pair of creepy eyes between the crack in the wall inside the male restroom!”

"some pervert looking into the male toilet?”

"No! I…I don't think it's human–when I saw it, it just disappeared into thin air!”

"I think you should go see a doctor”

“Yeah, are you I'll or something? Did you hear a voice in your head too?”

“S–shut up! Stop mocking me! I fucking saw it, Ok?!” 

It seems like vacation comes to visit you early this year as she hears one of the best but most shocking of all week. Her asshole co-worker has decided to quit, it also seems like he has been scared shitless and borderline losing his mind at something that most people don't seem to understand. Many think that he cracked under constant pressure but she has a better idea of what might have happened. She didn’t think to ask of him at this current time but it seemed like he could read her mind somehow when she found him manifesting in her bag, a pair of gleeful, teasing eyes with an otherworldly smile somehow made her heart skip beats. 

“Mr.Gap!”

“Hello. Me good resident.” 

“I heard about the haunting spirit between the wall’s gap in the male bathroom—did you do it? The guy who tormented me quit”

“Me solve problems, me good resident,”

“Yeah, that was a good one. Good, thank you”

“Give good resident finger?”

“No”

“Disappointed”

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife #10 : Snack Time

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Momma bird hungry for all the snacks in the world. Takes some time and frustration before Joel figures out the exact kind of snack you really want.

Warnings: Pregnant reader, Angry!Joel, oral M!receiving, face fucking, throat bulge, throat-pie, dumbification, junk food binge, eating meat, bossy reader as always

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel didn’t know he married the Hungry Hungry Hippo, Galactus the planet devourer, Garfield the tabby cat.

You’re on your phone texting while cuddling Joel. He’s more interested in the movie than you are, but that doesn’t stop him from tracing his finger along your arm, occasionally kissing the top of your head and nuzzling his nose. He loves the scent of your shampoo after a wash, damp and cold against his warm chest. Sometimes you protest how closely he wants to cuddle you, all smushed up on the couch. Your body temp skyrocketed with the baby changing everything. But since he’s keep the AC on full blast, your warm heavy body keeps him from being a popsicle.

The landlines chimes in from the kitchen.

He rolls his eyes. Of course, something to interrupt the comfort that took 40 minutes for you to settle into. "I'll get it,” He grumbles quickly and hoists himself up off the couch. He wants to make whoever the fuck is calling at such a late hour a quick convo. If it’s fucking Tommy needing bailed out again, he thinks begrudgingly, I’ll just hang up on him. 

He clears his throat and answers: “Hello, Miller Residents.”

"Can you get me a bowl of Cap'n crunch while you're up?"

He glances back over at you sitting up on the couch, your cell to your ear as you wave at him. you point to your belly mouthing I T S  F O R  T H E  B A B Y.

It’s for the baby, my ass. You’ve been a hungry hungry hippo who’s been snacking like crazy and ignoring the doctor’s warnings. 

But cranky Momma is way worse than a scolding doctor. 

He grits his teeth and slams the receiver a little too hard down on the desk.

You can hear him shuffling around in the kitchen, a clash of a bowl on the counter  and the jingle of overly processed cereal filling it up. 

He walks back into the living room. You’ve taken up the whole couch now, with no inclination to move over to let him back on.

You shove a fist into the bowl and pop a bunch of the crunchy orange squares into your mouth “f’anks” you mumble, eyes not once making contact with him as you stare ahead and much away. Crumbs fall onto your chest and down to the floor and sofa, as if Joel hadn’t just cleaned all of it this morning.

.

The next night, Joel's cooking some steaks. You weren’t really a meat-crazed person, having maybe one or two helpings of poultry or occasionally red beef a week, but normally ,you could go without it for a few meals without thinking about it. 

Pregnant momma? She was a fucking carnivore. He had barely set the sizzling steak down before you snatch one onto your plate. He turns around to slice into one, checking its temp before serving, only to see it was a bit too red and bloodied on the inside.

"Oh babe I gotta cook these a little longer; they're too rare--"

You were hacking away and tearing a large chunks of the red, near pulsing meat, juices pouring out your lips, a vampire gorged on a fat blood sucking meal. Despite its tenderness, you chew endlessly and stare off into the table like a Llama enjoying its food on the field. 

"Maybe...we should—slow down a bit,” he suggests with uncertainty. His fork and knife frozen in midair, still in each hand. He hasn’t shifted view or blinked, but clear worry (and maybe a tad bit of fear) stretch across his face.

"Uighgrrfmggmmdeeofxsw,” you reply with gargled cow remains sloshing in your wide open trap. 

 “Right. That."

You swallow what’s left. Joel’s does a double take: your steak is somehow gone, juice licked clean off the plate in front of you.

“Can I have yours???"

He had only sliced 4 cuts  for himself so far. But the hungry look in your pupils, licking your lips while watching his dinner, it’s clear you’ve answered for him. He sadly sets his cutlery down and slides his plate to you. 

Its even more interesting when you douse it in salt and throw a slab of butter on top of it, watching it melt before slicing a big chunk off.

"You gotta watch the salt intake—“

“—Can you make chicken? I want chicken now.”

“N-no,” he shakes his head, whiplash from the conversation. Maybe you’ve gone def AND blind AND lost your taste buds. “I made steak. You've had 2 steaks now. Why do you need chicken?”

“That second one was for the baby. The chicken is for me.”

“What about the fist one?”

“….We split that.”

“Awfully hungry baby,” he says with a dead tone, straight faced as he eats the one roll left in the basket that hasn’t been devoured by you. 

“Well she’s yours, isn’t she?” 

-

You wipe your face with a napkin, a fried chicken leg and wing now securely packed tight in your tum tum along with the famished baby.

"What's for dessert?" You chime eagerly.

Joel turns to wash the dishes, hiding his smirk. He’s got you now, no surprise cravings will catch him short on this one: He boasts proudly, “I bought you apple pie--"

"I want cupcakes. Whip cream icing. Chocolate.”

His grin quickly deflates into a frown. “No.” He says sternly, a little aggravated. “I bought you pie—“

"Did I say I want pie? L I S T E N,” you snap, slapping your palms together with each syllable. 

He puts his foot down with tense sudsy hands going to his hips. “No. I'm not going out again.”

You raise your eyebrows threateningly. One look.

30 minutes later Joel is shuffling into the house with a pack of 12 cupcakes he bought at the bakery.

-

You’ve managed to prop yourself up on the couch after some heaving. “Ha! The baby is making me workout get strong! Obviously that’s why I’m so hungry.” You shrug it off. “Oh! I want raw cookie dough.”

Joel was on his phone the entire time, but the second you said I want, his brain queued in and he quickly retorts, “No.”

He goes back to replaying the voicemail he missed, settled and focused on the opposite couch.

Of course he Doesn't realize you’ve somehow lumbered up past him and now waddling back with 4 chunks of raw cookies in your hand, popping them in your mouth one at a time.

His eyes dark up to watch you, transfixed on the screen as you bend your knees, hardly paying attention to the way you’re about to fall on the couch. He has half the mind to help, but what’s one lesson you need to learn the hard way?

Regretfully, you bounce down successfully and pull your legs up.

And then, as you dust your hands off from the chocolate stains melted on your palms, Joel’s lips part in a o as you reach behind you and pulling an entire gallon container of animal crackers. 

"Babe"

"Wha?” You don’t turn around to look at him, still shoveling them into your mouth. “Yuu wan wan?"

"You need to stop eating every damn thing in the house.”

You gasp incredulously, your hand over your heart in painful offense. “The baby is very hungry! She's related to you and that belly.”

He only remembers to stop himself from reminding you that your belly is much bigger than his now. 

"The baby—“ (that was the new thing now: the baby  this baby that. The baby is why I need this shirt in blue and green. The baby is why I need the ice cream layered horizontally not stacked vertically. The baby —)

"No. Not the baby,” he snaps. “You."

You start to cry. "I thought I AM your baby!!!" 

He gives you a “seriously” look and you stop the fake tears.

“So how about it?”

“I don’t want you getting salmonella.”

“ugh fine. You can bake them I guess.”

He’s about to protest the idea of any dough going into your body, cooked or raw, but knows its going to be a lost cause.

Joel makes you a platter of Assorted cookies: chocolate chip, fudge, triple chocolate, sugar, and oatmeal raisin.

You clap your hands as he carefully places the little plate atop your bump. Humored by the custom “mini” table you’ve got going on now. Maybe his baby doesn’t like her head being used as a countertop, but with the way you close your eyes and moan after biting into the chocolate chip, babygirl must be pleased too.

He goes to the bathroom quickly and then comes back only to glare down at you. You've taken exactly one bite out of every single cookie, leaving crescent shapes for him to scathe.

Every cookie, except oatmeal raisin. You clearly did take a bite ,but spit it out and put the lump back near the undesirable #1 cookie.

“These mine?” Joel asks bemused.

You nod happily. You felt very proud to have enough control and leave him some this time! 

-

It’s about 9:30 pm. You're acting drunk and woozy even tho you're just a new level of tired and achy

"Woopppoooooo!!! Paaartttaaayyy!" You shout with fists in the air, drinking down a shot glass of sugar water. 

“Alright party Momma. It’s bedtime.” 

"Ppfffttt! No old man! Dont steal my fun.”

Joel stands over the couch, blocking your view from the TV, his hands on his hips. “You're being difficult "

“YoU’rE bEiNg DifFicUlT,” you mock and wave him off. "Oop I need to pee. Help me up.”

Joel” grabs both your grabby hands and hoists you up to your feet. “Now up the stairs, you.”

You waddle towards the stairwell, one hand cupping your lower back. Joel is right at your heel. you up at the treaturous journey ahead, all 8 steps to the top floor. Cracking your neck side to side, you wave your arms over to the handrail and begin: “Left foot. Right foot. Left. Fuck. Fuck stairs. Who invented stairs. Left foot…”

Joel’s so sleepy that he nearly falls forward. And he knows you would not take too kindly to him ramming his face into your ass as you battle your worst enemy.

Finally to the top, you scurry over like a penguin to the bathroom. He fears the long night ahead, with all the sugar swirling in your system undoubtedly going to keep him up.

He rubs his wears eyes. Startled when a moment later you’re right next to him by your side of the bed, patiently waiting for him to help you up.

"Get in the covers,” he hums with exhaustion.

But you don’t move. “No"

"Now.”

"I want an orange.”

"No. You—you just had your snack."

"That was the baby's snack. I want MY snack”.

Dear Christ almighty, bless me with a boy next time so that I have a fighting chance against her and mini her. “If I get you an orange, will you go to bed?" He asks irritably, his voice enunciating each word to ensure the contract that he’s making with you right now is solidified on both ends of the bargain.

You think it over before nodding with a little innocent beam. 

You crawl into the covers just as Joel descends the stairs once again. It takes the entire time for him to grab some oranges, a peeler, and paper towel just for you to rotate your middle and sit your ass in bed.

You sit up against the headboard and clap your hands, so excited when he reappears with the goods. He puts the towel on your mini-table bump and plops one orange atop.

Joel sighs and begins to walk towards his side of the bed, but is haunted when you clear your throat for his attention.

“Yes?”

"Peel it.”

He tries not to visibly roll his eyes before he's opening the round orange with his large fingers and clubbed nails. Everything smells like nectarine now.

Picky as can be, you peel off the extra dried white veiny bits and suck on each pod of the orange.

You expect a sweet simpleness to squirt on your tongue, but instead, a sour, bitter, unripe taste floods your mouth. “Ugh these are gross, now I want—“

Joel closes his wardrobe drawer, his shirt off and only halfway down to his boxers. “NO. NO means fucking NO. I’M TIRED. YOU’RE TIRED. WE'RE GOING TO BED. NOW,” he barks sternly into the mirror. His shoulders huffing from such aggression without being able to look at you.

You throw the covers off, orange skin and slices flying everywhere.

“Fuck you! I want ice cream! I want bananas and steak and potatoes and tacos and—!" 

-

He bares his teeth in a snarl, deep angered eyes casting downward with each poignant rut. “You're so annoying, so goddamn spoiled,” he grunts. His huge hands are wrapped around the top of your head and  cupping your jaw and bulging cheek, keeping you in place as he pushes his length into your mouth over and over again. “You’re gonna do shit when I tell you, the first time I say—shit—fuck there we go—gonna listen—unnggghhfff—listen ta me from now on. Just be my good little silent. Slutty. Pregnant. Wife.”

Your teary eyes are fixed upward at his imposing figure. Feeling each time his tip nudges the back of your throat has you gagging but you can’t pull away to breathe—not that you want to.

“You get—what I give ya—and you be grateful bout it.”

You gargle a moan in agreement. His balls slap against your chin with brutal punches. by this time tomorrow, there will be Joel-finger prints bruising your face and neck.

You love it. You love it when Joel forces you out of the hormonal phase of bossing him around, the endless need to want more and more, no end in sight to your greedy gluttonous desires, until he’s blowing up and blowing off steam using you instead. And it becomes very clear to you how much you just really wanted him this whole time. 

“That’s it—that’s it—you were hungry for my cock weren’t ya? Yeahhhh. Just begging me all night for it. Wanted all that meat for dinner, huh? Couldn’t just come out n’ say it? Your little brain didn’t know what ya truly needed. S’okay, Momma. I’m takin’ care of ya, aren’t I?”

The gluglugglug sounds mixed with strained pitchy whines echo in the master bedroom.

You grip his thighs with your hands to steady yourself, allowing him to abuse your throat. Maybe your knees hurt. Maybe the baby is settling uncomfortably against your lower back, and maybe it’s going to be really difficult to get up from this position in a few minutes. But each thick throb of his length filling your mouth over and over again, the spit slick strings dropping from your lips to your swollen tits, and the dent in your throat from his cock stretching to accomodate his size has your swollen pussy dripping into the carpet for more, more, more. 

It’s been at least a week since Joel drained himself. No wonder he’s been so on edge with each demand. Usually marveling how cute you are, but tonight he was at him limit. You were about to get a hefty, Joel Miller sized load filling your belly, and it’s going to be better than any cookie, steak, or orange in the entire world.

He feels the way your lips suction tighter. Your eyes are leaking tears, and he smirks as he brushes his thumb over to collect it. Briefly bringing it to his tongue and sucking on the salty taste before holding your head in place. 

“Shhh-shhhhhhhh. You gonna take it? Shit—shit—fuck yeah you are. Gonna fuckin take what I give ya, that’s right. My sweet wife. Bossing me around. Shit. Love when ya get like this. Known I’m gonna wreck that ass or that pussy or that mouth—all belongs to me. Fuck—fuck—fuuckk—“

His mouth drops into an o, brows drawn tightly together as slams his pulsing member balls deep into your mouth one final time. You choke, eyes wide as the tip of his cock breaches the deepest part of your throat, your nose suffocated by his pubic hairs and the fat of his lower belly surrounding your cheeks. His balls twitch against your lower lip, and you feel it coming. The travel of his seed from his sack, up his shaft along your tongue—a generous spurt of cum finally shooting from his tip and down your throat. You gag with each fat load that he pumps down your esophagus, too much to swallow at once yet having no other choice but to gulp it down quickly. Your face feels hot. He’s cumming endlessly, your mind blanking and eyes feeling blurry.

“Take it, take it, take it, that’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

You nod just a little, hugging your arms around his thick thighs tighter. He grins, humming “That’s my good fucking wife, and throws his head as the last of his pleasure makes its way safely from his sated balls to your full womb.

Joel pulls you off his length gently. You sputter out cum and saliva onto his feet, sucking in air through your lungs like a newborn. 

Joel gets to one knee, his thumb pressed gently under your chin so you look directly at him. He’s got such softness in his eyes again, the ones that just switch on a dime the second he’s satisfied his aggress out on you. 

You’re completely wrecked: snot spit connecting to your nostrils and swollen lips, cheeks warm and eyes puffy and hazy with exhaustion and tears.

“That—mmffffgg!—was—definitely—my—snack,” you rasp with a hoarse voice. A lazy grin spread across your face only briefly as you continue to suck air.

Joel shakes his head before planting a long kiss atop your forehead. his hands glide along your body, and just in time as your knees give way and you’re falling into him. 

If you had half the mind right now, you’d curse him out for scooping you up and carrying you to bed like his once youthful bride, too concerned with the size and weight of your new body putting unnecessary stress on his aging knees and back. But Joel doesn’t protest once. Just watches you with loving eyes as he settles you into the soft bed. His tongue dips to your chest and breasts, kissing and sucking away any remnants of his rough face fucking. His cum, your spit, and fuvk it, even the little snot specks—all of it he cleans up before coming up to your lips. He kisses you softly with gentle pecks, enough to ensure you can still catch your breath. He sucks your lower lip into your mouth before wiping his own with his thumb. You’re calmer now, sated and drifting so close to sleep.

Joel clambers into bed next to you, wrapping his arm under your head and swaddling you close. You instinctively roll into his embrace. Kissing his peck and rubbing your face against him dreamily with soft breaths. “Tha hit ther spert juss rite. Ur da bess, Jol.”

“I know. So are you.” He waits for a reply, but nothing comes from you. “Are you goin’ into a food coma, baby?”

Your gentle snores answer him, along with the drool now pooling on his peck.

He chuckles and pulls your head into his face, inhaling your scent. Strong, secure, graceful hands caress your big belly. Your very very full belly, the one that he’s not going to envy when it gives you a the tummy ache tomorrow from stuffing it with so much junk food tonight. 

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[drvscarlett]

About You Pt 7

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

About You Series 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

A/N: okay after a long while, here we have an update! huge shoutout for @olesyaexperience for the lovely message she left me for this series. i hope you enjoy this!!

Taglist: @spideybv28@randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @honethatty12 @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama @ririyulife @skywalker1dream @vicurious28 @khaylin27 @0710khj @its-elias-world @vizzzashley @allisonwoods @taytaylala12 @miarabanana @ceciii-b @lindsayjoy444

2010, Winter break

If anyone asks, Y/N was not waiting on Sebastian's call.

She definitely was not checking her phone every five minutes to see if Sebastian left a message or anything. In her defense, she was just a bit worried that Sebastian must have been upset with her not being around. This championship is a big thing and a once in a lifetime achievement so she should have forced herself to celebrate yesterday with the team. With their abrupt leaving yesterday, she fed the media with the narrative that Webbers are crybaby and can't accept that Vettel won.

But she might have given herself away when she picked up the phone without it going on a single ring.

"Whoa its like you were waiting for me to call" Sebastian's teasing voice greeted her.

"Well hello there Mr. World Champion" Y/N replied back "Seems like you've been busy"

Sebastian chuckles at the other end and Y/N could just picture that smile on his face right now.

"Not too busy, just chilling around" Sebastian shrugs.

Y/N wraps her jacket closer to her body. It was snowing today in Australia, a big contrast to the tropical weather of Abu Dhabi. She finds herself thinking if Sebastian is inside his hotel room and taking a break from all the media duties.

"How are you feeling champ?"

"Amazing. Unreal. Phenomenal. High" Sebastian enumerates.

She was brimming with joy for Sebastian. It was really a well-deserved win. She wished that she could be there for Sebastian but her health is really taking a toll on her.

"You don't have to worry"Sebastian reassures "I'll win the championship again next year and you could celebrate with me then"

"Really? You are that confident?"

"Of course especially when you are smiling wildly like that"Sebastian teased.

"You got that I'm smiling from hearing my voice?" Y/N confusedly asked.

"Look out your window"

There was no way that Sebastian would be traveling all the way to Australia just to see her. However, there was the german driver standing with a grin on his face. Y/N didn't waste any more time and ran down to hug the world champion.

"You're fucking crazy Seb" Y/N exclaimed before hugging him.

They could feel both of their hearts pounding as they exchanged gleeful chuckles with each other.

"Only for you Y/N" Sebastian whispers "Only for you"

And Y/N swears her heart just went faster.

2011, Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit

It was a different feeling walking back to the paddock and having so many people cheer your name. For Sebastian, being the current world champion, has instantly given him a boost of fans especially among the young boys, who wanted to be a world champion just like him.

He never felt intimidated by the kids but with the way that this blonde kid has been making his way to him, Sebastian would like to rethink his decision that kids aren't scary.

"You are Sebastian Vettel right?" the blonde-haired kid asked.

The kid was dressed in a casual way without any team merchandise or branding with him. He looked pretty serious looking for a kid of his age and Sebastian swears he seen this look before. He cautiously looked at the paddock passes that hung around the child's neck, Mick Schumacher.

"I am Sebastian" Sebastian straightens himself up.

"I have heard a lot of things about you from Y/N" Mick said "I need to talk to you privately about her"

Sebastian could only nod as he led the young Schumacher to his driver's room. He honestly didn't think that he would be following a young kid's orders but here he is.

"What do you wanna talk about?"Sebastian started to ask

"I heard you went to her over the christmas break that's why she couldn't join us to go for skiing" Mick paced the room "And I heard you also took her to Monaco for her birthday"

The way Mick looked at Sebastian, he honestly doubt if Mick is actually a Michael Schumacher in disguise.

"And so what's your deal with her?"Mick crossed his arms "Do you like her?"

"What? How can you possibly say that, that's cra-"

"You do things for Y/N that my Papa does to my Mama"Mick said

His face was heating up by the ambush questioning of Mick and he felt himself sweating with the pressure building up. Sebastian already knew of his feelings from long ago but he couldn't understand why he doesn't have the guts to admit it.

"Well, I'm waiting here"Mick was an impatient kid "Do you like her or not?"

"I like her" Sebastian mumbles as if its a secret he only wanted to shared with himself.

"What? I can't hear you"

"Fine, I like her. I like Y/N" Sebastian admits louder.

It was the first time that Sebastian saw a small smile appear on Mick's face. He felt like his shoulders relaxed a bit while the young boy sits on one of the couches.

"So if you like her then why don't you make a move on her?"

Sebastian was stumped by the boy's question. Why doesn't he make a move on her?

"Well its complicated Mick and its not easy because I might lose a friend" Sebastian argues "It's not that I don't want to make a move on her but I don't want to put her in a difficult position"

"But isn't this also difficult for the two of you? Pretending you two are friends when you two are so much more"Mick had a good point.

He scratches his head. He actually had a plan long ago about confessing to Y/N when he becomes world champion but its been months after he became a world champion but he has no where near a game plan of how to confess to Y/N.

"You adults are so complicated, no wonder Mama doesn't want me to grow up"Mick complains.

"You won't get it, its too complicated and dangerous"

"You drive fast cars for a living and you say that telling a girl that you like how you feel is dangerous" Mick pouts.

Sebastian could only laugh how smart Mick was. He cannot believe that a young boy is telling him what to do with his love life.

"I only came here for one thing and that's for you to make a promise to have good intentions with Y/N"Mick added "Y/N is one of the best person out there and she takes care of me and my sister when our parents are not around"

There was a clear adoration in Mick's eyes and Sebastian felt himself warm up to how Mick is here because he is looking out for Y/N. He gave him a small pat in the back.

"Don't worry about it, I got her"

"Promise me that you won't hurt her okay? Even if it takes time for you to say your feelings"Mick reiterated.

"I promise Mick"Sebastian chuckles.

The little boy felt comforted by Sebastian's words and soon enough the two were engaging about a topic on motorsports. It turns out that having a great adoration for Y/N isn't their only shared interest. As they were heading out of the Red Bull motorhome, they encountered a very stressed out Y/N.

"Ohmygod Mick, we have been looking everywhere for you" Y/N worriedly states "Your Papa and Mama has been worried sick"

"I only went to have a chat with Seb"Mick grins.

Y/N looked at Sebastian suspiciously as if trying to figure out what the two talk about.

"Should I be worried?"

"You shouldn't stress about it"Sebastian assures "C'mon lets get little Schumi back to Michael"

The walk back to the Mercedes motorhome was how Mick held on both Sebastian and Y/N's hands. The three were giggling with each other while the cameras capture them. If there were new fans on the grid then they would have thought that they are a family walking at the paddock.

Somehow this thought couldn't leave Sebastian's head.

2011, Sepang International Circuit

Sebastian's dominance for the season is being affirmed with his second win for the current season. Y/N understands how this puts a lot of pressure on Mark especially when he feels frustrated that they have the same car but they are performing differently.

Usually, Y/N would congratulate Mark with a stellar drive because he went from P10 to P4 but her older brother is having a tantrum.

"I'm not doing well so save your congratulations for when I win a Grand Prix" Mark was furious with his words.

"Can you be a good sport and just for a second think rationally before speaking"Y/N pleaded.

"I don't give a crap about this" Mark replied "I am here to win and not be Mr. Congeniality"

Y/N slammed the door shut so no one could overhear them talking. With the way their voices are raised right now, Y/N's main goal was not to let the media get a whiff of this whole conversation.

"Seriously Mark, this isn't you... What is happening to you"Y/N asked.

"I'm actually done playing nice one with Sebastian and I'm focused on how to beat him this season" Mark stated "I don't care if he is your friend but on track he is a different person and I'll start acting like that"

"Mark, this isn't good for you"

"Just shut it Y/N if you're not going to help me win" Mark's words were cold.

And he left Y/N with her devices. Y/N couldn't believe that Mark could say such words but she attributes it to the pressure that must have been building up at his side of the garage. She just brushes it off as a bad weekend attitude from Mark.

2011, Silverstone circuit

Webber made the second driver again.

Mark Webber must have thought that he can secure a win for this weekend with his pole position advantage. However as the race began, Sebastian Vettel, his teammate and current world champion, has received a better start. Vettel was quick to surpass his teammate and hold a comfortable distance between them. Webber was able to retake the lead when Vettel had a pitstop but his victory was only shortlived after Webber suffers a horrendous pitstop.

By the end of the race, the controversial radio of Red Bull telling Webber to retain his position behind Sebastian. But Webber disobeyed the orders and continues to fight for Sebastian at the very end. Unfortunately for the Australian driver, Sebastian Vettel stays ahead claiming P2 and him in P3. Well its not bad for a second driver, atleast you are still in the podium Mark.

Webber and Button reunited in McLaren.

Y/N Webber and Jenson Button are spotted leaving the Silverstone Circuit last Sunday. Eagle-eyed fans spotted how they went straight to the McLaren Technology Center. It is quite funny because as one may recall it, Y/N Webber is technically a Red Bull employee as Mark's personal assistant. So what is she doing winding up in the enemy's territory?

2011, Nürburgring

Sebastian would like to think that this is all just an elaborate prank and that Y/N transferring to McLaren is just a joke. However, as race week start to approach and he sees how Y/N is wearing a McLaren team merchandise, Sebastian was out of focus.

He immediately seeks out his teammate because how could he have let Y/N go to other teams.

"Mark, what the fuck is going on with Y/N?" Sebastian barged in "I just saw her entering McLaren"

"What do you think it looks like?" Mark scoffed.

There is no way that Y/N would have been supporting McLaren unless she wasn't actually supporting McLaren.

"You fucking fired her?"

It was the only logical explanation available for Sebastian. Y/N got fired by Mark and Y/N had to find another job to sustain herself. Sebastian already know that McLaren has been trying to poach Y/N since Jenson moved there but he was always confident that Y/N would only switch if Mark fired her.

"I have to"Mark confirms "She is a distraction for me and a liability"

"A liability? A distraction?" Sebastian was bewildered.

"Yes because as long as she is here then I cannot fight you for the championship because I'm thinking how my personal relationship is at stake if I fight you"Mark was placing the blame on Y/N "But I want to fucking win"

Sebastian was beyond speechless. He have seen how much Y/N has tried her best to seperate their friendship and her family relationship especially during the championship. He felt so angry because all Y/N has been doing for the past few years has been to support Mark. But Mark has a too big of an ego to see that.

"You better watch yourself because I'm going to run you to the wall" Sebastian promised.

There was a certain anger in Sebastian's eyes because he felt like he would be driving with a personal vendetta for the next few races. Y/N has been so wronged by her brother and Sebastian promises that he will make it much more difficult for Mark.

"Is that a threat Vettel?"

"You bet it is"

[c0llisiion]

DAY 9 — JIMIN

★ npr, f!reader, praise kink , softdom!jm , mentions of pregnancy kink— lmk if i missed any!!; W/C: 439

Hello! This is part of my kinktober list! Day9 is officially out <3

This is strictly fiction. Any scenario or situation should not be taken seriously. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable.

 Jimin loved praising you. From the day your pussy clenched around his length as he whispered soft praises in your ears, he hadn’t stopped since. 

“Mmm… you’re taking me so well, honey… look at you… all full and happy…” he breathed into your ears as his slender cock gently went in and out of your sopping hole. He kissed the side of your neck and continued humping you, the slow rhythm giving you unimaginable pleasure. “Such a good girl… I love the way you feel around me doll… so perfect and warm… soft…” he leans back and flips you over onto your back, taking in your pleasure-filled face. Your drool ran down your chin .He loved watching you come undone at him fucking you so well. “Such a pretty little mess… all for me and no one else…” You basically get so high and dumb at his thrusts and words that nothing in the world could bring you back to reality. He leaned forward and pulled you close to his chest as he slowly entered you once again. His cock slipped into your fucked-out pussy with ease. He kissed your cheek with his plump lips. With Jimin, it was never rough, hard sex but slow, gentle lovemaking, which you couldn’t get enough of. “You have no idea how much you turn me on… you’re so perfect baby… my perfect doll … fit for only taking my cock… aint that right baby?” He said with a soft chuckle. You nodded and moaned softly. “Mmm… i knew it…” he moaned into your ears as he felt you gush around him again. “I love having you wrapped around me… your little pussy is so cute and soft, makes me want to stay inside you forever… breeding you over and over again till you’re filled with my babies…” he chuckles darkly, “like that idea? You would look so perfect with my child babe… all soft and round, watching your belly protrude everyday knowing that its my child growing in you… fuckk…” he groaned against your ear. “you would be dependent on me for everything, and that’s incredibly sexy…” His voice was muffled as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. His hips started to thrust up harder, making you moan louder and hold onto him tighter.

“Minie… fill me up please…” Your soft voice vibrating through his eardrums made him look up at you. He smirked at your blissful expression and kissed you possessively. “You’re such a good girl… i will give you anything baby… your minie will take care of you forever alright? You will only need your minie…”

Tags~ @cassies-cookies @minghaosimp @unlikelysublimekryptonite @mamnaimiefrankie @marcoswhore @theyadorevalerie @applejackthebest515 @un-knew @salemluvsmusic @ka0ila @atztrsr @kpopsmutty69 @jisunglyricist @targaryenluvs @yuminhyunn @chansramennn @anylady-fics

If you want to be part of the taglist, comment on og post or below!! ^^

[itsphoenix0724]

All Things Vile (Eris x Reader)

Summary: A recon mission to the Autumn Court gets more heated than you intended. They say Autumn males fuck like they have fire in their veins-you guess you're about to find out.

Warnings: ROUGH SMUT (this is pure filth and I'm not sorry), kind of dark, oral (m!receiving) choking, bondage

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote for him, been a while since I wrote in general since I'm adjusting back into my school life. Chapter 3 of MMOTI is drafted and will hopefully be released soon! But anyway here's a smutty Eris fic for all of you <3

The Autumn Court was ablaze in moonlit revelry. The scent of spiced cider and ale consumed the grove along with the smell of the blazing campfire. Fog weaved in and out of the shadow-drenched woods, urging the partygoers to follow its trail into the darkness. You could make out bodies against trees, males and females losing themselves in one another, as you jumped silently along the oak’s branches. It was a simple mission; Get in and get out, that’s what Rhys had said, and that’s what you fully intended on doing. Cloaked in darkness, mask pulled up to hide everything but your eyes, you found your target. 

A drunken blush stained his pale cheeks, and the blood-red silk shirt he wore was unbuttoned so obscenely low you could see the dappling of freckles along his chest in the firelight. His auburn hair was unruly; the waves held down only by the circlet of gold leaves that marked him as the firstborn son of Autumn. His lips were stained from the wine he was sipping and his eyes had taken on a seductive half-lid as he somehow fixed his burning gaze straight onto you. 

Fuck, Rhys was going to kill you. 

Eris stood from his chair in one smooth motion, prowling towards your spot hidden in the woods like a mountain cat, amber eyes burning. You jump down from your tree, weaving through the branches like smoke to try to lose the lordling who’s hot on your tail. Nothing but the sound of your labored breathing and the sounds of footfalls echo through the dark wood. You just need to get to the border, Eris won’t have the gall to cross after you. You can see the green grass of Spring, the pastel pink of the cherry blossoms grotesquely clashing with the russet hues of the forest that currently surrounds you.

You can almost smell the sickly sweet air when a hand encircles your wrist like a hot brand.

The world tips and falls, the grass slipping out from under your feet as you’re dropped into a room, landing on all fours against a hardwood floor. Bands of fire wrap around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the ground, not burning but holding you there. The tell-tale wave of nausea that means you’ve been winnowed somewhere quickly overwhelms you as you try not to heave onto the plush burgundy rug infront of you.

Eris has taken you to his room at Fir Hall, his private estate away from his life wrapped in court politics, you’re familiar with the home after many spy missions here. Your eyes fix on the Autumn Prince with a burning ferocity, and he does nothing but glare back down at you from where he looms above you.

“Well, well what has fallen into my trap,” He fixes you with a wolfish smile as he pulls down your mask, and your lips peel back into a snarl. “Hello Sweetheart,” he purrs as he tucks a loose hair behind your ears. “I’ve missed you, it’s very nice to see you again.” He tries to run a thumb over your bottom lip, but you snap your teeth in his direction like a feral animal and he wisely pulls his hand away. 

“Bite me,” you growl out as Eris crouches down until he’s at eye level with you. A hound cornering a wild fox, it seemed the hunter had won tonight as he lets out a laugh that leaves a burning caress down your spine. 

“Oh, I intend to.” He promises, stroking his hand along the back of your hair, pulling out the hair tie, and letting it fall around your face. “Now will you mind your manners?” He raises a copper brow, eyes dancing with amusement. The bond buried deep in your chest tries to wiggle free of its restraints, begging you to let it play with the other half of your soul. 

“Never,” you vow to him even as the mischief in his eyes turns to longing. This is torture denying yourself of him. 

But how could you not? 

Beron is still High Lord, if you were to tie yourself to him you would have to abide by his rules. You would rather claw your own eyes out. And if your family ever found out, if Mor ever found out, the shame and guilt would burn more than the roaring fire in the hearth. 

So you have this, you take every mission you can to Autumn and collect all the broken pieces and scraps that you can get. This is what you will allow yourself.

“I thought that would be the case,” Eris gets up and languidly strolls away from you, plucking the bottle of bourbon from the cabinet and pouring himself a drink. You watch with adept interest as his ring-clad fingers tighten around the crystalline glass, he strolls over to his bookshelf and plucks a well-loved novel off the dark shelf. 

Then the bastard settles himself into one of the plush armchairs and starts to fucking read. He ignores you as though you’re nothing more than a potted plant in the corner, he doesn’t even so much as glance at you, fully enraptured in his novel. A few minutes pass when you clear your throat. Eris deigns to look bored as he lazily turns his head toward you. 

“Yes?” He asks, propping the book against one knee and taking another sip of his whiskey. Your eyes track the movement of his throat involuntarily. 

“Aren’t you going to do something?” You push, urging him with your eyes as you lift your head through the curtain of your hair. You hope your gaze communicates everything you cannot bring yourself to voice, fearing your body will refuse to allow you air if you try. 

I love you, please don’t ignore me, I need you, play with me

He chuckles a dark sound and picks up his book again, pointedly flicking a page as the rubies on his hands glint in the firelight. 

“I’m not in the business of playing with unwilling toys,” Eris supplies, purposely staring at the fire instead of you. “Perhaps I should call Rhysand to collect you and tell him I don’t appreciate being spied on. Perhaps, he will never send you back here.” His brows scrunch in frustration but you both know that the threat is empty. It seems he is tired of your games. 

“What do you want?” You barely grind out, still refusing to relent to the signing inside your soul. “Do you want me to beg? Is that it? Princely bastard.” You practically spit, and faster than the blink of an eye Eris is in front of you, fisting your hair in one hand and tilting your chin to meet his smoldering gaze. 

“Are you ashamed of me?” He questions, and you can see the vulnerability dancing in his eyes. You shake your head as the fire binding your wrists recedes and you move into a more comfortable kneeling position, hands now bound in front of you. He soothes his hand along your cheek again as your brows knit together. You thought that the two of you had a kind of understanding. You had no idea where this was coming from. “I tire of this ruse, my love.” If Eris notices the mournful look in your eyes he says nothing. He strokes a warm hand through your hair, admiring your eyes in the firelight. “Why don’t you show me how much you missed me huh?” The wolfish grin is back and you hum your agreement as he runs his thumb along your bottom lip again, pleased at your cooperation as he slides his finger into your mouth. He thrusts it into your mouth and as you teasingly run your tongue over the pad he lets out a moan that shoots straight to your core. 

He undoes the belt at his waist, pulling his cock out with his hand, and your mouth waters at the sheer size of him. 

“I’m going to fuck your mouth now,” he rumbles, pure authority and power radiating off of him. A glimpse at the future ruler he will become one day. You nod your enthusiastic consent as he grips the back of your head and thrusts into your mouth at a merciless pace. Your head empties as he hits the back of your throat, the hand cupping the back of your hair surprisingly gentle compared to the way he was brutalizing your mouth. “That’s a good girl, take me down your throat.” It spills out of his mouth like he can’t even control it as your eyes roll back in your head at his praise. Eris pushes your mouth all the way down to the base of his dick and holds you there for a few seconds as your nose connects with his pelvic bone. He’s relentless as he uses you for his pleasure and you think that he might bruise your vocal cords. 

He spills down your throat as your binds dissolve into nothing, leaving behind a warm tingling sensation where the fire licked at your limbs. 

You swallow what he gave you, opening your mouth in emphasis as whiskey eyes blow wide with lust. You’re drenched at the sight of his cock already stiffening again. He walks to the mountainous bed in front of you, making himself comfortable against the pillows. 

“Come here pet.” He growls fisting his cock in his hand and crooking his fingers with the other. You start to rise to your legs on sore knees, but you freeze when Eris tuts–holding his hand out to stop you. “No. I want you to crawl to me.” The order wraps around you like warm silk, voice sliding against your bones. You lower yourself back down to the floor, humiliation burning hot on your cheeks as you sway your hips in what you hope to be enticing. He stops you quickly and you look up at him from under fluttering lashes. “Strip. Slowly.” Your face burns even hotter and Eris can’t take his eyes off you as you rise, slowly undoing every single buckle on your leathers and letting them fall to the floor, leaving you entirely exposed to him before climbing onto the bed. His body is so warm against your skin as he draws your mouth to his, the burning taste of cinnamon whiskey floods your mouth. He dominates you even here, claiming you as his tongue wrestles with yours. The moan that slips out of you comes out scratchy from the abuse of your throat, and in a flash, you’re below him as he grinds his hips into yours. 

“Eris,” you whimper as his cock brushes against your folds. You need him to fill you to the brim, wanting him as close as possible. He shushes you gently as he bites at your pulse point, the only goal in his mind is to claim as he sucks dark marks into your neck. 

You’ll surely be wearing only turtle necks for a few weeks after this. 

His warm hands skate down your body, pulling and prodding at your sensitive nipples, letting out a dark chuckle as you whine at his ministrations. Eris mocks your moans as he rubs a finger at your center, rolling the sensitive bundle of nerves between his fingers. Finally, he slips a finger inside of you rubbing at the spot that makes you see stars. He knows exactly where to touch to get you to dissolve, his beautiful mate bending to him like water running through his fingertips. That ring-clad hand curls around your throat, cold metal contrasting with his warm hands, and you keen as the pleasant dizzy feeling takes over your whole body. 

That feeling combined with the addition of another finger in your core sends you hurtling through gold-flecked oblivion.

He pulls his fingers out of you, sucking them into his mouth and moaning as he relishes the taste of you on his tongue. Staring down at your shaking form with smugness in his eyes as he circles the skin of your inner thigh, enjoying the way the muscles quiver under his touch. Eris sinks himself into you, inch by tortuous inch until you can’t tell where your body ends and he begins. He strokes slowly and deliberately, bruising you with his intensity as your vision goes white with searing pleasure every time he moves his hips.

You want him to leave his imprint everywhere on your body, that unanswered bond begging you to never leave this bed again. Eris must feel it too, that golden thread wrapping around his heart begging him to keep you, to never let another male so much as look at you. That makes something ugly twist in his chest and he almost snarls at even the thought of another male near you as his instincts take over and he draws your legs over his shoulders to hit an even deeper part inside of you. Your walls are clenching and fluttering around him as his pace turns ravenous, all you can do is try to hold on as your nails scrape jagged lines down his back. Eris scrapes his teeth over your neck, then he moves down to your nipple biting down as you scream his name before giving the other one equal attention. 

“Who do you belong to pet?” He murmurs in your ear in time with a thrust that's so deep your eyes roll back in your head. “Who’s the only one that can make you feel like this?” You can barely give him anything but a whimper as he devastates your body, pinching your clit in a way that elicits a pleasure-soaked sob. “Scream it for me,” he punctuates it with a slap against the apex of your thighs. 

“Yours Eris, I’m all yours!” You scream as you orgasm, tears running down your flushed cheeks, Eris follows soon after you spilling himself deep inside of you.

He pulls out, disappears into the bathroom, and returns with a clean rag to wipe up the mess he made between your thighs. He collapses onto the mattress next to you and pulls you to his chest, warming his hands with his power as he rubs slow circles into the small of your back. You look up at him and he’s taken aback at the vulnerability in your eyes. “Eris I-” you choke, unable to force the words you so desperately want to say past your lips. He shushes you with a kiss against your forehead. 

“I know,” he mutters into your hairline “I know.” You hold him tighter, blinking back tears as you lock the bond back down in its obsidian shackles,“I’ll wait an eternity for you.” It’s the last thing you hear before closing your eyes as you let him soothe you to sleep.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I trust everything went well?” Rhys asks, raising a dark brow at your form where you stand across from his desk. You subconsciously pull the dark turtleneck further up, the deep purple marks burning like a brand. You scrubbed yourself raw as soon as you winnowed yourself to your apartment, and you’re praying to the Mother that Rhys doesn’t even catch a whiff of Eris or the frankly copious amounts of sex. The thought of Eris enjoying it this morning, pressing his nose against the crook of your neck to make sure it really stuck, before crawling his way down your body to settle in between your thighs makes you triple-check that the steel of your mental shields was still in place.

“Nothing to report,” You rasp, voice destroyed after last night's events. The attempts to clear your throat are doing nothing to help you

“Are you alright?” Rhys questions, wringing his hands together on his desk as he shoots a concerned look. 

“Must just be a chill I caught in Autumn, those woods get cold at night.” You supply and he hums his agreement. 

“Well go rest, you’ve earned it. Perhaps you should see Madja for something to soothe your throat.” Rhys says and you nod your agreement, taking the cue for your dismissal. You wait until his office door clicks shut behind you to let out your sigh of relief, thinking of nothing but soft sheets and warm hands. 

You can only hope you get another mission there soon.

[abrillustrated]

hi my name is august and for the past week or so i have become so consumed by thoughts of avatar the last airbender that it is actually ruining my life and relationships.

yeah so unfortunately i can only be completely insane about this so i have to stop before it consumes me or at least manage the fixation i have for this early 20s zutara au

+ mai bc its really a shame that they didn't resolve her story outside of her relationship to zuko. so i think she starts fight club. which gradually turns into a gladiatorial ring

edit: im typing up everything that i wrote in the drawing bc it just occured to me that not only is my handwriting a mess, but it's also cursive

Image 1

katara: How do you live in this hot ass country.

zuko: What about that literal glacier you live on, hm? Do you see me complaining?

Image 2

Zuko: my plan right now is to soft launch democracy for the Fire Nation. like, i don't think we can do that now because we're so weak, but 10-20 years down the line?

Image 3

Zuko: Honestly, my plan right now is to rule for a couple generations and fix everything that my father and my grandfather did , and then establish a democracy.

Katara: why not a democracy now?

Zuko: because the people of the Fire Nation don't know the truth about their own history. they've been fed propaganda for a hundred years. they need to be able to make informed decisions before i can do that.

Katara: and after that?

Zuko: after that im fucking off to the earth kingdom to take over my uncle's tea house and you will literally never hear from me again

Image 4

from left to right "katara" "need to redo the face" "this is chief katara to me. this is her at around 19/20 to me" "Anime katara. this anime shit is easy" "fire nation katara. putting her at about 14 y/o" "this is a screencap redraw"

Image 5

me: hello greenpeace

katara: after my mother died i had a lot of unchecked rage for the world, so my dad signed me up for tai chi classes to, like, calm me down but i ended up still angry but also really good at tai chi

katara: i feel like im doing well all things considered

me: katara is so special to me. she is a fully realized creation to me. so casual. so passionate about the world. one thing about her is that she is an activist. she has a strong sense of justice. fuck. the train jumped lol

image 6

mai: zuko, im starting a gladitorial ring and i don't know the legality of it so if you could just change the laws as i go that'd be great

zuko: yeah sure that sounds great

zuko, but smaller: wait what.

image 7

mai: REF, ARE YOU BLIND?! WHAT KIND OF CALL IS THAT!

background guy: woah holy shit

captioned: "Mai starts a gladiatorial fight club

[borathae]

"He asked for two things. Your strap and to be treated with care. You can't say no to him. Not when he looks so adorable with his pretty, sparkly doe eyes gazing at you and his dainty, little waist fitting perfectly between your fingers."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, winter holiday!AU, Smut, BDSM

Warnings: sub!Jungkook, Mommy Dom!Reader, he makes her cum against her will (with consent obviously), and she gives him some spanks as "punishment", that's the only rougher part 'cause otherwise this story is very soft, he dresses up for her in a jockstrap & leather harness, he also wears bunny ears & a tail buttplug, emotionally intense love making, Lotus position, pegging, praise, good boy kink, she calls him slut but in an adoring way, loving dirty talk, voice kink, rimjob, face sitting, oral (f.receiving), 69nin, handjob, nipple play & sucking for both, nipple clamps with chains + choker, multiple orgasms (f. & m.receiving), his orgasms are very intense, he's deep in subspace, subby boy tears, the softest aftercare, they're in love and kinky

Wordcount: 8.5k

a/n: i wanna give him the world. he is my babyboy and i wanna coddle him and love him and give him all the attention in the world! my cutie pookie :( enjoy besties, i fucking love him 🤍 ps: these are two ideas from Kinktober 22 which i turned into one ruining smut :(

You and Jungkook were on vacation. It was a cold destination this time around. Canada in the winter. Jungkook rented a cozy wooden lodge with a view of the mountains and lakes. The bedroom was located at the best spot of the house with one wall being entirely made out of glass and a view of the starry sky. You could also close the blinds, so you and Jungkook have been sleeping in on most days. 

Work has been left behind in Seoul. Jungkook didn’t even take his work phone nor laptop with him and you didn’t even think twice about packing your study books. 

You have been neglecting each other lately, not willingly, but because life is stressful and cruel. So you swore to each other to make this holiday about two things. Nourishing your relationship and relaxing. Both things have been going splendidly. 

You sleep in, cuddle and make out, go for breakfast in the resort’s restaurant, either go skiing or use the resort’s thermal spas and then let the evening play out however you feel like. 

Tonight you felt like going to bed with a good horror book and Jungkook felt like using the bathtub. The book is amazing. It’s scary and totally captivates you.

The bedroom door opens, in steps Jungkook.

“I’m back.”

You don’t notice him at first as the book completely engrosses you. 

Jungkook struts to your side of the bed and stops. 

“Hello”, he coos.

No reaction from you. You are completely lost.

He huffs out air and pouts. He really wants your attention.

He tries by calling your name, then your petname. Both don’t work.

“Mommy?” he tries next, tapping your shoulder.

“Yes Bunny?” your attention is on him instantly. You look at him, “oh wow.” 

Jungkook is wearing a skin-tight jock strap in white which truly accentuates the shape of his dick. He paired it with a white leather torso harness and a pair of nipple clamps. Silver chains are tangling from them, connecting with a white leather collar which he seemed to have pulled tight enough that he naturally holds his head high. 

“Bunny…” you choke out, placing the book aside without bothering to use a bookmark. Yes, this is how truly mesmerised your sweet husband has you. 

A pair of floppy bunny ears is tangling from his head. Jungkook turns for your viewing pleasure, revealing his plump buttocks and the fluffy bunny tail between them. Judging from its position, it’s attached to a buttplug.

“Holy shit Bunny, you look so sexy. Bunny”, you gasp and get on your knees, reaching for him greedily. 

Jungkook turns again, allowing you to pull him closer by his waist. 

“Bunny. Oh my god, Bunny.” 

He giggles, pulling a little pose.

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it? Of course I like it. I, I fucking love it. Holy shit, you look so sexy. Bunny”, you babble, running your hands all over him. His hips, his waist and stomach, his sides and chest, his arms and shoulders. You can’t get enough of him.

Jungkook tingles from the touches, watching you with half-lidded eyes. This is the kind of attention he wanted from you. All of it and all of it and all of it. He’s so greedy for it.

“You look so handsome. Oh Bunny. Is that what you were up to? Did you even take a bath?”

“No”, Jungkook confesses and snickers, “I lied so I could prepare the surprise.”

“Wow, you’re such a sneaky Bunny. I never would have figured. Gosh look at your ears”, you say, playing with them carefully, "I’m gonna burst, this is the cutest thing ever. You’re my actual Bunny now."

“Mh-hm I am”, Jungkook says, and gets on bed. He does a little bunny jump, making you laugh with it. He laughs himself, doing it again with a cute butt wiggle at the end. 

“You’re too adorable. Oh my goshyoucutieyou”, you lull your words as you press them out through gritted teeth. You squish his cheeks, frowning deeply, “I’m gonna squish you to death”, you growl, acting as if you were squeezing his face even if you apply not an ounce of pressure. The cuteness aggression is hitting you hard. You love this man so abysmally much that you are angry. 

“Mommy, stop it”, Jungkook giggles, stubbing your palm with his nose.

“No, you stop it. You’re so handsome and cute that it’s making me mad.”

“No Mommy, don’t be mad at me”, Jungkook pleads and pouts. 

“You’re so cute. Fuck, I’m done for”, you say, dropping into your pillow with your arm thrown over your eyes, “I need a minute. You’re too much.” 

Jungkook feels so good that it gets difficult to stay still in one place. He wants to bounce around and giggle. It feels so good to be your husband! 

Jungkook loves your attention so much. You give the best reactions to his surprises. Jungkook always imagines how you may react to them, but then you always surpass it. He won’t ever grow tired of being your only center of attention and praise and heart eyes. All of it. Jungkook wants all of it. 

He bounces on the mattress in little movements, closing in on you that way until he can climb on your lap and place his hands on each side of your head. 

You drop your arm from your eyes, looking up at him. The bunny ears tangle, the chains of the nipple clamps do as well. The contrast between his cute headgear and the sexy nipple accessories makes you weak in the knees. And that says a lot because you are currently lying down.

You reach up and twirl the chains. Jungkook shifts, feeling the slight tug. It tingles like crazy.

“What am I supposed to do with you, mhm?” you speak to him in your fond Dom voice. 

Jungkook loves this voice so much, fighting the urge to moan like you trained him to do. Not willingly of course, but Jungkook realised that whenever you talk in this voice and he makes pretty sounds, you praise him even better. 

“You’re looking so cute with your little bunny ears, but then you're dressed like such a slut.”

Jungkook moans softly, arching his back.

“See? That’s what I mean. You’re such a cutie and yet you’re such a slut”, you coo and tug on the chain. 

“Mommy”, Jungkook is arching his back again, sticking out his butt. 

“Mhm, Bunny? What do you want me to do with you?”

“Peg me.”

“Peg you? Is that why you're wearing a pretty tail for me?” 

“Yes, Mommy. I, I cleaned out and then prepared myself for you”, he says and climbs off your lap just to turn around and show off his butt this way. He is resting on his feet, sticking out his butt as best as possible. He wiggles his hips, looking over his shoulder.

“Mhm look at you. The tail fits you so well Bunnybaby.” 

“It’s really deep, but not as deep as your cock could go”, he says and turns back to you. He sits in perfect posture, tilting his head to the side, which forces his bunny ears to flop cutely. He runs his hands up your body until he can rest them on each side of your head. He lowers himself, letting his pretty eyes run over your face, “I want your cock so bad, Mommy.”

You twist the sheets and speak through gritted teeth, “the things I want to do to you, holy shit.”

“Mommy…” Jungkook sighs and chases you. You tilt your head up, meeting him in the middle. The kiss feels so good to both of you. Moans mix with each other, lips know exactly how to move and your fingers dig into his dainty waist instantly. He fits so perfectly between your hands. His skin is soft and warm while the leather straps of the harness are rough. The contrast drives you crazy. He feels so fucking good to hold.

Jungkook mewls into your mouth. He lowers himself to his elbows just so he can be closer to you. His fingers shift from the pillow to the crown of your head, giving you a gentle yet greedy massage. Your touch feels so good. Jungkook became so needy as he prepared himself for you and now his skin is extra sensitive. He hopes that you never stop touching him.

You run your fingers from his waist to his buttocks, feeling them up greedily. The jockstrap pushes them up and makes them feel extra plumb. You need to squeeze them. Once. Twice. The desire is too big. You land a little spank with both hands. Just harsh enough that his butt wiggles.

Jungkook squeaks and flinches, breaking the kiss with a shy giggle.

“Mommy”, he gasps, scrunching his nose.

“My Bunny”, you rasp, gazing up at him as your fingers knead his buttocks, “my pretty, sexy Bunny.”

“Yeah, I’m your Bunny”, he says and cups your cheeks to pull you back into the kiss.

You allow him gladly, giving him a chance to think that he is controlling the kiss. He’s so good in showing you the tempo and level of passion he currently needs. You can busy yourself with feeling him up. That’s so much more fun either way. You intentionally leave out his tail for now, knowing that this will make him impatient in the long run. And when Jungkook gets impatient, he becomes a whiney, squirmy mess and you love that state of his'. You dance your hands to his hips and up his waist. Just to the middle of it, then you run them to his back to feel up the harness there. The straps and metal hooks are so hard in contrast to his soft, perfect body.

You linger especially long on the spot where four straps meet and create a small opening in the middle of them. It exposes Jungkook’s spine and you can’t stop tracing it and scratching his skin on each side of it.

Jungkook breaks the kiss after a few seconds, sighing his words, “this feels so good.”

“You’re so soft there.”

“Oh god”, he shudders, pressing himself closer, “Mommy, I want to be treated gently tonight.”

You smile, running your fingers to his neck just so you can play with his undercut.

“You’re my precious prince, Bunny. You can get whatever you want.”

“Then I want to be fucked and loved and, and get all your attention.”

“You’re already getting loved, Bunny”, you whisper, swirling your fingers to his shoulders, “and you’ve got all my attention”, you add as you feel up his choker until you reach the hook where the nipple chains connect with it.

“Then I want more. More and more”, he says, rolling his hips on your lap, “oh god”, he chokes out, chasing your lips. He is still talking as he is kissing you, resulting in messy, amazing kisses, “I’m imagining that your strap’s already there, Mommy. I want to be filled with you so bad.”

“You’re so greedy”, you chuckle fondly, kissing him back with your heart racing unbearably. Sometimes you wonder if there will ever come a day where it will beat a little less for him. You always come to the conclusion that there won’t ever come such a day. On the contrary, day by day, your heart is racing faster and faster for this man.

You trace the chains until you reach the clamps. You outline them, going slow and careful to make sure you remember the feel of them and get him squirmy in the process. And it works. Oh it works too well. Just moments later and Jungkook arches his back to get closer to your touch. The passionate kiss breaks because he needed to be whiney.

“My nipples are sensitive.”

“I know, Bunny”, you coo, flicking the small hoop which connects the chain to the clamps.

“Please touch them. I, I made the clamps tight for you.”

“For me?” still no touch. Just gentle play with the chains to give him a little stimulation.

“Yes to, ah”, he chases your lips, speaks as he does, “to make my nipples swollen for you.”

“You’re such a good boy, Bunny”, you praise, touching his waist. You give him a little push, forcing him to scoot back on your lap so you could sit up. He is taller than you like this, looking down at you with big, sparkly eyes and his hands on your shoulders.

You give him a fond smile and tug him closer, lowering your lips to his right nipple.

“Oh my god”, Jungkook gasps, throwing his hand over his mouth. Like this, his arm cages in your head, giving you a sense of comfort. He squeezes his eyes shut, moaning into his hand.

The nipple clamps grip most of his dainty nipples, leaving your mouth their very tip to explore. You don’t mind. This part has always been the most sensitive for Jungkook and you can wiggle your tongue between parts of the clamps as well to explore his heated up nipple.

His hips are squirmy on your lap, his back keeps chasing you in small arches.

You abandon his right nipple for the sake of his left. You don’t want it to feel left out. Jungkook wants all your attention and you are hellbent on giving it to him.

“Mommy, oh my god, you feel so good”, Jungkook moans, dropping his hand from his mouth to instead cradle the back of your head. He slings his other arm around you, hugging you gently. He buries his nose in the crown of your head, giving you small kisses between his needy moans. This is better than anything he could have imagined.

His cock is so hard in the jockstrap, his hole keeps clenching around the tail plug and reminding him how needy he is. Your tongue is lapping at his nipple, your lips are kissing it. You change between his left and right, making him wish that he could melt with you. It feels so good.

“Thank you, Mommy. You make me feel so good”, he mewls, trembling blissfully. 

His tail keeps poking your lap. You can’t feel its fluffiness as you are wearing sweats. It’s getting harder and harder to stay clothed. His body is burning up and it is torture not to feel his skin against yours.

“Shit, Bunny”, you lull against his chest, lapping at his nipple greedily, “I wanna feel your skin on mine. It gets so hard not to.”

“I can help you undress.”

“You’re such a good boy”, you croak and kiss his nipple one last time because then you lift your head and arms, “do it quickly.”

Jungkook follows obediently. He takes off your jumper, working carefully in order not to hurt your face. He throws it on the floor, letting his eyes run over the white tank top you are wearing. You are going braless and the top is cut in a way which makes your tits look especially pretty. Your nipples are poking through the material, making Jungkook gulp.

“Yes, the tanktop too”, you say, pulling him back to reality.

“Sorry, your tits look so good in the top”, he mumbles in a raspy voice and begins undressing you. It’s the voice he gets when you affect him deeply in a way other than your touches. When your looks and body mesmerise him and drive him crazy, he talks in this deep, raspy voice. You’re obsessed with it.

He throws the top on the floor and cups your breasts instantly, playing with your nipples gently. His palms feel warm and his skin soft. Jungkook has the most perfect hands, manly yet with the most tender of skin. His touch feels so good.

“Mommy, you’re so pretty”, he is back to whining. How adorable.

“Thank you, Bunny. You’re making me feel so good right now”, you say, arching into him.

“So pretty”, he whispers and leans down to suck on your nipples. He doesn’t stay on one for too long, sucking and licking them eagerly. It feels fantastic. His mouth is so incredibly warm and wet.

“Bunny, my pants”, you are sighing the words, ending it with a breathy chuckle, “focus for me, come on.”

“I’m sorry, please don’t be mad. I love your nipples so much”, he says, kissing your neck as an apology. You roll your head to the side, allowing him better access. He is purring as he kisses you, suckling on your skin every now and then to really make it tingle.

“You’re too greedy, Bunny.”

He giggles shyly, “sorry”, he mumbles, earning himself a little buttocks squeeze and a fond chuckle. He lifts his lips from your neck, crawling off your lap to take off your sweats. You lie down for it to make it easier for him, watching him with fond eyes.

Jungkook throws your sweats on the floor as well, running his eyes over your exposed body.

“Wow”, he whispers, touching your thighs, “Mommy, you are so beautiful.”

“Thank you, Bunnybaby”, you say fondly, wiggling your head into a more comfortable position. Like this, you are resting on two pillows, allowing you to see him better, “get on my lap and turn around for me.”

He follows without hesitation. He is resting on all fours, giving view to his bubble butt and the white fluffy tail between his buttocks.

“Closer.”

He listens, shimmying up your body until his knees are resting on each side of your waist and his toes almost touch your arms.

“There we go, I gotta really bask in you”, you praise, “the tail looks so real”, you say.

“I feel so pretty with it”, he confesses, gasping softly when he feels your fingertips dance up his inner thighs.

“You are so pretty with it, Bunny”, you say, feeling up the jockstrap on the spot where his balls meet his taint. He’s so hot to the touch.

Jungkook twists the sheets, moving his butt closer to you in reaction. The touch is just one small change away from where he needs it most. He is so desperate for more.

You touch the tail, give it a gentle squeeze and a little flick with your fingers. 

“So soft”, you say and laugh softly, “shit, it’s so cute how it’s just sitting there.”

“When you touch it, I feel it move”, he says and moans, “please Mommy, don’t tease me please.”

You wiggle his tail, making him press out another plea for more. He’s so pretty when he begs.

“Such a pretty tail”, you coo and grab it, “can Mommy take it out?”

“Yes Mommy, please”, he allows you, clenching his hole in excitement.

“It’s a shame to take it out though. You look so pretty with it”, you say and tug on it, purring in enjoyment when the plug starts slipping out without resistance. He’s so good for you, “no clenching. You’re seriously the best boy”, you say, rewarding him with a slow fuck. There’s the smallest natural resistance whenever you reach the girthiest part at the bottom, but it’s barely noticeable. Jungkook is stretched out so well for you.

“Oh god”, Jungkook gets out, placing his hands on your shins and arching his back. The plug is big enough that you are fucking it against his prostate and it feels like heaven to him. When he walked, he felt the plug shift inside him and said sensations continued as he sat on your lap and made out with you. It resulted in his prostate slowly getting more sensitive and for the current slow fuck to feel almost unbearable.

“It feels so good”, he moans, dropping his head. His floppy bunny ears tangle weakly, showing just how ruined you’ve got him.

“Come closer for me.”

Jungkook obeys.

“There we go, such a good boy”, you praise and reward him by pulling out the plug. His hole gapes for a second, before fluttering closed. Lube squeezes out and runs down to his balls, soaking the jockstrap in the process.

“Please back”, Jungkook begs, clenching his greedy hole. He spent so long being plugged up, that having nothing inside feels like agony.

“You weren’t lying, Bunny. This plug is huge”, you rasp, eyeing it hungrily. It is the perfect hybrid between plug and dildo. Three inches in length, shaped just like a cock with veins and a bulbous head, it ends in a girthy base and a smaller shaft where his rim sits. The white fluff of the tail is soaked in lube where it was pressed against his hole, “that must have made you so desperate. Mhm, Bunny?”

“Yes”, he mewls, arching his back to get closer to you, “please, Mommy don’t tease me please.”

“You’re cute”, you say and place the toy aside. You grab his buttocks and use your grip to pull him onto your face.

“Ah!” he squeaks, lifting himself quickly, “sorry!”

“You did the right thing. Fucking sit on me again”, you order him, tugging him down.

“Oh go-god”, he falls with a shaky moan, squeezing his thighs around your waist when his hole presses down on your tongue, “Mommy, thank you….”

You are sticking out your tongue, wrapping your arms around his middle to move his hips for him. His hole is grinding on the flat of your tongue, getting cleaned from the lube whilst at the same time burning up in pleasure. He tastes artificially sweet at first until his natural taste begins to linger on your tongue. You love it like nothing else, licking him greedily.

“Mommy”, he moans, falling into pleasure he thought never to experience. Which is quite ironic to say because you made him sit on your face a million times before. He should know how it feels to ride your face and yet he still can’t ever believe that it is happening when it does. It always feels like the first time, leaving him dizzy and short of breath.

“Fuck”, your growl vibrates against his sensitive rim, “you taste so good”, you get out and pull him back down, tightening your arms around him as your tongue begins lapping at his hole. It sounds wet and sloppy, feels like paradise.

Jungkook has to gasp and tremble. His hands slip from your legs against his will, forcing him to catch balance in the sheets. He grabs them and twists them, choking out your name while his nose scrunches up in pleasure. His legs are shaking. It’s embarrassing that they are so quick to shake, but it feels so good.

“I can’t get enough of you”, your voice is like electricity against his hole. It’s moments like this, when Jungkook is reminded that he has the biggest kink for your voice. He clenches his hole rhythmically, feeling you growl into him. His clenching intensifies, forcing you to break away, “relax for me. Come on, be my good boy.”

He obeys instantly. He can’t be a bad boy when you’re talking like this. You slip your arms from his middle and place your hands on each of his buttocks, using the leverage to pull him apart. His hole – once so dainty and small – opens up and exposes itself to you. His rim looked so tiny at first, but reveals its true readiness the farther you part him. Jungkook sighs and trembles, letting you know how good it feels to be so freely exposed. He doesn’t feel embarrassed about being so vulnerably open in front of you. As a matter of fact, it turns him on to be that exposed.

“Shit baby, you’re so fucking pretty”, you lull, inspecting his pretty hole greedily.

It flutters at the praise, his breathy voice whispers a weak “Mommy”. It feels so good to be exposed to you. It feels so, so good.

“Lower yourself for me, pretty boy”, you order and stick your tongue out.

Jungkook obeys, letting out a whimper when it results in his stretched out hole to slip down on your tongue. He tries so, so hard not to clench in reaction even if the rest of his body tenses up. He always tenses up when the pleasure overwhelms him. It’s the only way to remotely control how you make him feel.

“Holy fuck”, he whispers, gasping for air repeatedly while his eyes widen and stare at the ruffled sheets. He is getting fucked by warm, wet tongue. His eyes go out of focus, his head tilts back slightly, “Mommy…holy fuck”, he breathes.

You growl, nodding your head as your praise. He comes into contact with your nose, squishing it slightly. Breathing gets difficult, but it’s so worth it when it means that Jungkook is whimpering and trembling above you. 

You wiggle your tongue, enjoying the tightness of his rim greedily. He stretches so well around you, squeezing you in the best way.

“Mommy, I need to- ah!” he moans loudly, shuddering in ecstasy, “I h-have to be loud, I’m s-sorry. Ah!”

You let him know that this is what you want from him by moaning gutturally and giving his hips a small push to show him that you want him to move. Jungkook obeys without hesitation, fucking his hole on your tongue in small movements up and down.

And as he fucks his soft hole on your tongue, he keeps being loud. His fingers keep twisting the sheets and his head can’t decide whether to roll back or tangle weakly. One second he is throwing it back until it gets too much and he drops it again. It forces his bunny ears to flop all over the place, making him look so adorable.

Not that you can currently see. Your vision is blurred, as are your thoughts. He tastes so good, smells even better. There is nothing better in this world than Jungkook. All of him, every single inch, drives you crazy. You let him fuck himself on your tongue until your lungs protest for air and only then you guide him off of you. Your tongue flops out, his hole clenches desperately. Spit covers your face messily, but you couldn’t give two shits. Not when you need him so fucking bad.

You make up for the loss of contact by sucking and kissing at his rim, flicking your tongue over his sensitive parts as you pant for air.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god”, Jungkook is chanting. His head keeps tangling. Any other position was too exhausting. His thighs are squeezing you so much that it hurts just a little.

“Bunny, mhm Bunny”, you growl, pulling him closer even if he protests at first. It is instinct. He doesn’t want to squish you.

“P-please I’ll suffocate you”, he stutters, furrowing his brows as a squeaky moan leaves him. You are trying to fuck your tongue back into his hole, going obsessively rough with it. It gets him so wet, both his hole and his pretty little dick. There is a wet stain on his jockstrap by now. Jungkook can feel the cool air of the room turn it colder than the rest of the fabric. He wants to cup his cock and rub it, but he holds back because he has to twist the sheets instead.

“Please I’m too, too heavy.”

“Shut the fuck up mon amour, I ain’t made of glass”, you spit in what you lovingly call your street-days-dialect, “fuckin’ sit on me wit’ yo’ pretty hole. Make Mommy happy.”

Jungkook feels even the last piece of his sanity crumble. He can handle a lot, but he can’t handle it when you get aggressive with him. He always wants to be a gentleman with you and then you tell him to be quiet and act up. Jungkook gives up, letting you win the fight and therefore pull him down on your face.

You growl into him, making the wettest love to his little hole while your fingers dimple his inner thighs.

Jungkook mewls softly and shudders. His strength forsakes him. He falls to his elbows, resulting in his hole to leave your mouth for just a moment until you pull him back again. You keep lifting your head to meet him, anger fucking his hole with just your tongue. You soothe the punishment with wet kisses and sloppy licks. Jungkook swears that you are currently rewriting his definition of pleasure with just your tongue.

“Mhm”, his voice sound so pretty when he moans, “mhm, mhm, mhm…ah, aha.”

And he can’t stop doing it. He breathes heavily, gasps, moans and hums and you soak up every little sound of him as your starved mouth feasts on his hole.

His jockstrap can barely contain his cock by now. His velvety tip has already slipped out at the side, dripping onto your chest in a constant rhythm. You can feel the wet mess by now. From all the wiggling and squirming you are doing as you eat him out, it has smeared all over your tits by now, covering parts of your nipples as well. You can also feel the warmed up chains of his nipple clamps dance over your tummy as Jungkook keeps shaking above you.

You slide your right hand from his inner thigh and touch his cockhead.

Jungkook squeezes his thighs around you, almost kicking you in the face as his foot twitches in surprise. He drops his head into your thighs, forcing his hot breath to soak your panties.

“I’m close”, he gets out, mouthing at your clothed pussy, “oh god, I can’t hold it for long. Ah!”

“Shit Bunny”, you tilt your head back, giving yourself a chance to speak. Your hand is back on his right thigh, edging him “we gotta stop this or I’ll keep going until I’ve got you cumming.”

“That, that wouldn’t be bad”, he stutters, chasing you while his fingers try to tug your panties to the side, “please, Mommy”, he begs and drags his tongue through your folds. He couldn’t help himself. The scent of your warm, wet pussy was in his nose and it is so close to his mouth, “please”, his voice sends vibrations through you.

“Fine, fuck”, you lick your lips, rolling your hips up as his tongue keeps lapping at you, “I can keep going or I’ll fuck you. You decide.”

Jungkook lets out the first sob of the evening. Even now – when you sound so ruined by all of this – you find strength in yourself to tease him and mess him up. You are so cruel without even doing anything. Jungkook wants to keep sitting on your face so fucking bad, but the thought that he could miss out on orgasming around your strap makes him hesitate.

“I want Mommy’s cock”, he decides in the end, lifting his lips from your pussy, “please.”

“Very well. Do you have the strap here?”

“Yes, your red suitcase”, he answers you and buries his tongue back between your folds. He keens happily, lapping at you with a hot, dripping tongue.

“Okay, Bunny. Good boy”, you are keeping him with you as you run your finger over his rim, “get it for me.”

“I don’t know if I can. My legs are so weak”, he confesses and whimpers, kissing your clit as a weak apology “I’m sorry, Mommy”, he adds, drawing quick circles.

“Fine”, you give in, “get off of me. I’ll get it.”

“Mommy”, he mewls, burying himself deeper between your legs.

“Bunny”, you warn, swallowing down the gasp he almost licks out of you. What he does feels fucking amazing, but you have to stay strong. It’ll be so worth it.

“Mhm mhm”, Jungkook hums, sucking on your clit while his nose is buried between your folds.

“Fuck”, you hiss, arching your back, “Bunny, come…on”, you give his buttocks a soft spank, “don’t be like that. Come on, get up.”

“Mh-hm”, he shakes his head, pushing your thighs apart as his mouth laps at your pussy more vigorously. Your panties dig deep into his fingers as he keeps it pulled away from you, your hips smother him as they thrust up against your will.

“Bunny, listen- ah”, you gasp and moan, dropping your hands from his ass to instead twist the sheets. He makes you feel so good that it’s impossible to function, “Bunny-ah listen to, to ah fuck, listen to me. Fuck, ah.”

Jungkook moans into you, connecting his tongue with your clit as he keeps sucking on it. It results in a mixture of rough sucking sensations broken up by the hottest wetness ever. Mixed with his needy moans and his pretty nose fucking your dripping hole and you are quite frankly, done for.

You roll your eyes back and drop your back.

“You fucking brat”, you choke out, orgasming on his tongue with such intensity that you forget how to moan.

Jungkook whimpers needily, licking you through your orgasm until a sudden harsh spank to his ass forces him to throw his head back.

“Ah!” he lets out, clenching his hole aggressively. A spank on it follows. It stings and forces tears to Jungkook’s eyes.

“You little, disobedient brat”, you spit. Your voice is distorted from the pleasure he made you feel, raspy and deep. Jungkook feels his senses blur. Holy shit, he has such a kink for your voice. You spank his hole again, forcing the fire to burn deeper by pressing the pad of your thumb against it and applying pressure.

He writhes on top of you, struggling to stay on his elbows.

“I told you to listen. Is it so hard to follow a simple order, mhm?” you growl.

“I’m sorry”, he whimpers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Oh god, Mommy.”

“Good. I fucking hope you are”, you spit and give him one last spank to really get the message across.

Jungkook shudders, leaking onto your tits.

You soothe the burn with a gentle finger, changing your voice as you speak.

“Now get off of me”, you say in a sweet voice, messing with Jungkook’s poor heart.

“Mommy, please”, he begs and rolls off of you. He drops to his back, licking his lips hungrily, “wanted to make you feel good, oh god”, he whines, exhaling shakily as his hands come down to play with his cock. He does it instinctively, writhing on the sheets with one of his legs propped up.

“Don’t you dare make yourself cum”, you warn and stumble out of bed with weak knees. You manage to walk to your red suitcase and squat down even if you are dizzy. He’s got you really good with his mouth. You don’t have to look for long because you keep your toys organized.

“Where is the lube, Bunny?”

“I forgot it in the bathroom. I’m sorry, Mommy oh god. I, I can get it.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll get it”, you say and leave the room.

You decide to slip on the strap in the bathroom, using a grinder on the inside to make it enjoyable for you. You look at yourself in the mirror for a moment. The strap is similar to your skin colour and curves just right to stimulate his deeper pleasure spots. It looks so good on you. And with that thought in mind, you hurry back to Jungkook.

He is kneeling on the floor when you come back, keeping his head lowered. His cock is stuffed back into the jockstrap and his hands are on top his thighs with their palms facing up. His bunny ears, although only fake, look so sad as they tangle from each side of his head.

“What are you doing down there? Gosh, Bunny”, you gasp, hurrying to him.

“I want to apologise. I, I should have gotten the strap and, and the lube. I’m sorry, Mommy”, he says honestly and bows.

“Gosh, you stupid noodle stop that”, you say, pulling him back up with nothing more than two fingers under his chin, “you’re my precious prince and Mommy’s here to treat you, yeah?”

“So you, you won’t punish me?” he asks.

“Of course not, Bunnybaby”, you reassure him.

Jungkook releases a shuddering breath, “Mommy”, he chokes out, gazing up at you with sparkly eyes.

You give him a playful smirk, “unless you want me to punish you, mhm? Didn’t have enough of getting your hole spanked?”

He giggles, lifting his shoulders to his ears, “yeah, that was fun”, he confesses, scrunching his nose up.

“Cutie”, you say, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

Jungkook moves into the kiss with closed eyes, opening them when you pull back. They shift to your cock for a second and linger.

“You like it?” you ask him, gripping it by its base while your other hand still holds his chin.

“Yes”, he gets out, parting his lips, “you look so pretty with cock, Mommy.”

“Thank you, Bunny.”

Jungkook closes the distance between his lips and the tip of your strap, kissing it while his devoted eyes gaze up at you.

Your breath hitches in your throat. He looks so pretty like this.

“I love Mommy’s cock”, he whispers and flicks his tongue over the tip, ending it with a droopy smile.

You feel yourself melt, ruffling his hair gently enough not to rip out the clips from the ears.

“Get back on bed, Bunny and let me fuck you.”

“Can you fuck me in lotus position?”

“Of course I can. Everything my Bunny wants, my Bunny gets.”

“Don’t say that”, Jungkook mumbles and giggles. He is so happy. He feels especially soft tonight and you know exactly how to handle him to keep him in the headspace.

You take a step back and walk to the bed, climbing on top of it. You fluff up the pillows so you can rest back into them. Once you are comfortable, you move your legs into the right position. Jungkook followed you as you did all of that, climbing onto bed after you. He is now waiting for you to get your legs comfortable.

Your eyes meet.

“Come closer”, you order as you spread a generous amount of lube on your strap.

Jungkook follows excitedly, positioning himself on top of you. He places his hands on your shoulders, looking down at you.

You smile up at him, connecting your fingers with his hole to spread the lube. He shivers, sighing softly.

“My pretty Bunny”, you whisper, “I can’t get enough of you in those ears.”

“They’re connected to my hair.”

“I know, I felt the clips”, you say and push a finger into him, watching in delight how his eyes go out of focus and his lips fall open.

You curl your finger as you fuck it in and out of him, gazing into his eyes as deeply as possible. 

“You’re so soft inside”, you praise, poking his walls, “my pretty Bunny’s soft everywhere.”

“It’s hard to concentrate”, he confesses, scrunching his brows.

“Want more?”

He nods his head, “yes please.”

“Shit, you’re such a good boy”, you mumble and slip your middle finger into him as well, “the shit you pulled before wasn’t like you. Mhm, why did you act up Bunnybaby? Mhm?”

“Wanted Mommy to feel good”, he lulls his words, finding it hard to look into your eyes. Your fingers fill him out so well.

“You wanted me to feel good”, you repeat, massaging his prostate.

“A-ah.”

“Shit Bunny, when you say it like that it almost makes me feel bad that I punished you.”

“No, it was so…good, ah holy shit this feels so good, ah”, Jungkook gets out and moans, closing his eyes.

“Mhm, I know”, you purr, slipping your fingers free just to make him mewl desperately. You grip his hips, giving them a gentle tug, “take it at your pace, Bunny.” 

Jungkook grabs your cock and lowers himself. He manages to get as far as the tip and then moves up again.

“More lube”, he says.

“Hurts?”

“Yeah, it’s too dry.”

You lube up your cock more, spreading the access on his hole, “try it again.”

Jungkook lowers himself. Your tip slips past his rim easily.

“How’s that?” you ask him, caressing his tensing buttocks.

“Mh-hm”, he lets out, furrowing his brows. His frown worries you.

“Are you okay? Bunny, take it slow if it hurts”, you tell him.

Jungkook frowns harder, sinking down more.

“Bunny, take it slow for me.”

“Mommy, please be quiet. I need to concentrate”, he whines and pouts with big eyes.

“Oh you-”, you laugh, throwing your head back, “you little brat.”

“I have to concentrate”, he murmurs and sinks down the last inches. Now he is sitting on your lap with you cock all the way up his ass, “ah”, he lets out in a sigh, dropping his head in the crook of your neck. His arms hug you, his legs wrap around you. He begins rocking himself on your lap, moaning into your neck quietly.

“Is that better?” you ask him, caressing his lower back. You can feel his muscles shift and tense under his skin. Just as you can feel his thighs tense as he moves on your strap.

“Yeah”, he mewls, nodding his head, “oh god, you’re so deep.”

“I know, Bunny. You’re taking all of me”, you speak softly, grabbing his pretty butt to help him with the movements, “you’re such a good boy taking me like that.”

“Oh fuck, ah fuck”, he whimpers, hugging you tight against him, “I’m so stuffed with Mommy. Ah! Ah”, he shudders, increasing his movements. He still keeps you deep inside, grinding on your lap as his legs tremble around your waist. He doesn’t need to bounce. As a matter of fact, what he is currently doing feels so much better than any bouncing ever could. Because your cock is so deep and really stays at one area, it can stimulate all those sensitive spots inside and Jungkook has way too many of them. And they are way too fucking sensitive on top of that. Every second with you feels like ecstasy even if he hasn’t orgasmed yet.

“Yeah, you are. So filled with me”, you whisper, squeezing his buttocks, “so filled with me. Such a good boy for me. Such a good boy.”

“Mommy”, Jungkook whimpers, falling into you. It forces your back deeper into the pillows and allows him to grip the edge of the headboard. It hurts his nails, but he barely notices it. Everything feels way too good. He is so far gone. Not only in the pleasure, but also the safe headspace. He is on your lap, he can feel your naked chest against his, smells your warm scent, has you holding him and on top of that, his leaky cock grinds against your stomach while your strap stimulates every single spot inside him. There is not a single thing which isn’t right currently. This is perfect and it’s ruining Jungkook to the point where he genuinely has to sob.

“Breathe Bunny, it’s okay”, you soothe him, closing your arms around his torso whilst burying one of your hands deep in his hair.

The hug soothes him so much and makes him sob again because he is so close to you.

“Can I cum? Please”, he begs squeakily, “make me feel…so good. Everything feels so good. Oh god”, he gets out, ending it with a high-pitched whimper and his body trembling in your lap.

“Whenever you are ready, Bunny. I’m right here”, you allow him, hugging him safely.

“Now”, he gets out, “oh god, Mommy now”, he moans and feels how your strap makes him cum. It starts deep in his ass. Right where the silicon toy kept grinding against his pleasure spots. Describing the orgasm as hot wouldn’t be enough. It is so much more than that. Jungkook feels it everywhere and he feels it so deep that it gets very hard to stay conscious. His body twitches and convulses on top of you and you know that he has no control over it. His cock doesn’t release, but throbs so aggressively that it slips out of his jockstrap again. And his voice sounds so consumed by his orgasm that you feel yourself gasp for air as well. You know exactly how good he feels right now, holding him through his high until those shakes slowly die down.

“Good boy, oh my good boy”, you praise him, hugging his waist with your left arm while you let your right hand slip to his cock. You pick it up to jerk it off.

“Ah”, Jungkook arches his back so he can press his chest closer, his trembling arms close around you as his fingers grab a bundle of your hair, “ah, ahm, ah, o-oh.”

He didn’t cum with his cock. He knows that he didn’t, so getting touched by you right now, forces him straight back to the start.

“Oh god, ah, fuck. A-ah, ahm, ah”, he is struggling with producing moans, resulting in them to sound just a little strained but so fucking honest. Only you can make him moan like this. Only you can get him that ruined so it is even difficult to make sounds. And yet, he still tries to because it’s the only way to handle you.

“Good boy, my good boy”, you praise him as you jerk his cock, rolling your hips up to keep his hole stimulated as well. You don’t want any of that sweet, sweet pleasure to die down. You need him ruined and you are going to do it in the gentlest of ways. This kind of way always hits the deepest.

It’s easy to ruin someone with a rough and fast fuck. You just got to pound them hard enough and they’ll feel destroyed.

The proof of a good fuck is how well you can destroy someone with minimal movements. That’s where the real talent lies. And you? Oh you. You are one talented motherfucker.

“Feels so good”, Jungkook is whimpering even if he can barely produce moans. Your shoulder is wet because he keeps spilling tears. He thinks his eyes might be stuck after you made them cross, he can’t seem to find his focus again. His head is dizzy and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. You are ruining him with nothing but a slow handjob and your hips grinding up into him.

“Yeah, feels amazing”, you agree, “I’ve got you Bunny.”

Jungkook sobs, convulsing on top of you as if you just thrusted into him with all your strength. His cock throbs between your fingers, his fingers grip for your desperately. He doesn’t know where to touch, what to hold of you to make all of this easier to bear.

“Mommy”, he tries to call your name, maybe that will make it easier, but it doesn’t.

“I’m here, Bunny. I’ve got you”, you soothe him, sliding your left arm down his waist until you can press your fingers against his hole. You massage his stretched rim, giving him a reminder that he already orgasmed once and that he is terribly sensitive now.

“I can’t do this”, he sobs and convulses, “oh god please”, he pulls you closer, needing your warmth to survive.

“Break? Or need it closer?”

“Closer ple-please.”

You hug him strongly, tightening your grip around his cock just as you increase the pressure on his hole.

“Closer.”

The hug gains in intensity. You can barely move your hand up and down his cock, deciding on putting your attention on his tip instead. You massage his wet slit, giving it just a little bit of a stretch as you fuck the pad of your thumb into it. Your fingers are around the base of his tip, massaging it in rhythmical squeezes.

He begins panting, releasing loud noises each time he breathes out. He can’t stop. They leave him in sync with his body convulsing on top your lap. He drops each time he exhales, sagging his shoulders with it before his harsh inhale forces them to lift again and with it also Jungkook. Just a little, but it’s so intense for him that he is a little scared.

“Good boy, my good boy. You’re my good boy”, you praise him and kiss the shell of his ear.

Jungkook climaxes. He can’t tell you that he does, he also can’t change his voice before it happens, it just takes over. It starts at his slit this time around. The gentle fuck you gave it was too much. From there, it took over his whole cock until your strap did the rest.

Jungkook thought that the first orgasm was intense, but this is on another level. He claws at you in hopes of making it easier, even buries his teeth in your shoulder as his body shakes uncontrollably. But nothing helps. The fire feels endless. It is as if Jungkook never orgasmed before.

“Yes baby, my good boy”, Jungkook can hear you choke out and judging by the sound of your voice, you are orgasming with him. The thought makes it even more intense for him and by the time it finally starts to get easier, Jungkook has to sob.

“My Bunny, oh my Bunny”, you speak shakily, holding him so tightly while your lips litter him with kisses, “good job, my good boy. You did such a good job. I know Bunny, let it all out. You did so well.”

“It feels so good”, he presses out, “so good, Mommy”, he wails, pressing you closer with his fingers deep in your hair.

“I know Bunny, oh I know. My good boy, you took all of this so well.”

“Oh god”, Jungkook shudders, “oh god.”

“My good boy”, you keep praising him. It makes it so worthwhile to come back to you, “I love you so much, my good Bunnybaby.”

“Oh god, Mommy”, he gets out, trembling uncontrollably one last time before some of his clarity comes back. It’s difficult to come back sometimes. Jungkook loves being in subspace, so sometimes it’s hard for him to accept that he has to get back to reality again. It would make Jungkook feel really awful to be forced out of it entirely the moment the sex ended and you never make him feel this way. You always help him come back in such a nice way. You make him slip out of it far enough that you can do aftercare with him, but also allow him to stay in it deep enough that he can feel fuzzy even long after the main sex act ended.

“My good boy, you’re such a good boy”, you praise him, rubbing his buttocks gently, “how’s the stretch?”

He shakes his head.

“Doesn’t hurt?”

He nods his head.

“Then we’ll stay like this for a little, yeah?”

He nods his head again, hugging you tightly.

“And once you’re ready, I’ll give you a nice warm bath before we’ll have yummy dinner and lots of snuggles in bed. Yeah?”

He giggles, nodding his head.

“Yeah Bunnybaby, let’s do that”, you say, giving him a gentle squeeze, “fuck, I adore you.”

“I adore you too”, he whispers, “thank you so much for everything.”

“Mhm Bunny”, you sigh, kissing his shoulder as you pull him closer with the harness twisted in your fingers, “mine.”

Jungkook sighs in overwhelming happiness, pressing himself closer as his heart bursts for you. Yeah, you really make it so worthwhile to come back.

[crabonfire]

Hello! Could you do the mercs reactions to an S/O that picks them up bridal/princess style with ease? If you don’t want to that’s fine, either way I hope you have a nice day!

(Sorry if the English is bad, it’s not my first language)

S/O carrying mercs w ease

PLEASE this is so me I carry my friends a lot haha 🙏‼️

character: all mercs

note: it's okay bro, English ain't my first language either (non English speakers we 🆙️)

s/o body isn't mentioned but they are not skinny, they have muscle, you can imagine to be athletic, chubby, strong or buff, whatever!!

also this is shorter than most of my work I'm sorry,,, I hope its still good!!

reblogs are greatly appreciated!

warnings: none

♡Scout♡

• oh!

• honestly very embarrassed? cause he wanted to be the "strong" one. (LMFAOAOAOAOOAA)

• "I can walk, ya know."

"Scout, your injured..."

"...How are you so strong??"

"Hm? I wouldn't say I'm strong...your just pretty light."

"Oh."

• has mixed feelings about it. how. what. when did you learn to do this.

• does he think it's incredibly attractive? Yes. Is he jealous? YES???

like what..h...huh..

• he does end up loving it though, like, sets his envy and toxic masculinity aside because...its nice to be carried. Makes him feel safe.

• if the others tease him for being carried he gets embarrassed the first couple times and tells you to drop him. But then he learns to not give a fuck, because its so comforting when he lies his head on your chest as you carry him around.

"Yeah yeah, your all just jealous that I got somebody that'll hold me, ya sad fucks!" He'd snicker, melting in your arms.

♡Pyro♡

• wants to be carried by you all the time.

• so shocked the first time you swooped them up happily and swung them around bridal style, they were so happy. squealing and clapping, chuckling to themselves as you walk with them in your arms.

• also wow ur so strong!!!!!! my god

• sometimes, pi pretends to fall asleep while they cuddle with you, so in the end when it's time to sleep for tomorrow, you carry them in your arms while you both head to your room, tucking them in and then going in after them. They're awake, but it's just nice and comforting when you show such affection.

• thinks it's super cool. like ur so sweet and so strong and that's honestly so hot lkke I'm sorry hello

"Mmmfh mmfh.." [Hubba hubba..] They'd mutter, wrapping their hands around your neck as they swoon at you.

"Pff-"

♡Soldier♡

• uh...umm...uhhhdh...

• "..."

"Soldier? You okay? You're really quiet."

"...yes."

"Yea?"

"yes."

No. He is not.

His face is red, he keeps staring at you wide eyed as you carry him out of the battlefield with his broken leg. He's sweating profusely, but you think it's just because of the fight. It was not.

• It's the most attractive thing in the world to him when you show such strength, such will to be able to carry a burly man like him. Imagine how strong you are. That's, like...really cool.

• tells demoman about it with a red face and a shaky voice, and he has to pat his back with a laugh, telling him that you two are meant to be.

• maybe...you can carry him again...if...he's hurt...again..maybe.

hurts himself on "accident" so you can carry him.

"Jane, again? How'd you fall down the stairs twice?"

"THOSE STAIRS WERE NOT MADE BY TRUE AMERICAN HANDS, FOR THEY HAVE DENIED ME THE PRIVILIGE TO WALK!"

"...Okay."

He grins widely whenever you carry him bridal style, he's thankful his helmet hides a part of his face because he's flushed and staring at you the entire time. Bro is enamored. Bro finds you absolutely majestic. Bro finds you infinite.

♡Demo♡

• first time you carried him he was drunk, you carried him bridal style cause he was knocked out cold.

he awoke in the middle, seeing your majestic face as you carry him in the middle of the streets with a pout, trying to get back to base.

he thinks he's woken up in heaven, you look so cute.

Then he realizes he's being carried, he looks at his scrumpy in hand, then back to you, and just convinces himself this is a drunk dream he's having.

"...Wow...yer very strong... hic "

"Thank you Tavish."

The walk back is just him complimenting and gushing over you with a grin, drooling over you (literally it was a little gross)

"Yer so hot."

"?? Thank you Tavish?"

"So cool...I dunnae why yer datin' me..."

"Demo, don't say that."

"What?? It's true.. hic yer carryin' me thru the streets past midnight, I don't deserve ye."

You sigh, "You deserve me, don't talk like that okay?" The conversation continues sweetly.

When you two got back, he woke up and was still convinced it was a really sweet dream he had.

But then the second time you carried him wow okay this is real.

"Yer so strong. I never knew ye could do this."

"Haha, you've said that already Tav."

"Yeah...I know."

He's so?? Like?? Into it. It made something grow in him. Carry him like that? He'll do whatever you want.

♡Heavy♡

• WHAT

• WHAT DID YOUR PARENTS FEED YOU?

• what fucking protein powder do you chug to get this fucking strong bro

• do you deadlift 200? Huh? You..you bench 150? Fucking maniac

• he actually convinces himself that he's died and went to heaven the moment when you carry him out from the battlefield, dropping him over to the Medic to get healed. But he's stiff as a board, not responding to medics cry for help.

Even medic is a little shocked. A lot actually what the FUCK DID YOU EAT?

• he snaps out of it, continuing to shred people

• but after battle he walks up to you, with furrowed eyebrows and stiff hands.

"How did you carry me?"

"HUH?"

"In battle. I was hurt. You carried me. How?"

"Oh, uh...I don't know. It was a spur of the moment, I usually don't carry people."

"Spur of moment? You mean to say you don't do this?"

"No! That was my first time carrying anybody in a while."

"..."

"Heavy?"

"..Give me a moment."

He walks over to sit at the bench, hands in fists as he looks at the floor looking both proud and defeated. How the fuck.

• finds it attractive! Duh!!!!!

• having such a strong partner makes him have so proud and happy, talks about you to his family and swoons about your strength. Its so corny, he's fangirling.

♡Engie♡

• 😯😲🥴😊😍😏

• kiss him please.

• the fucking, expression on his face the moment you carried him up from his chair, placing him above your shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carrying him outside. Bros face was so red, bro transformed into the red power rangers.

• what the FUCK s/o.

•"D-Darlin' what are you doin'-"

"Engie you've been cooped up in that damn room too long, I'm taking you out."

Any merc walking by and watching gives him a thumbs up, muttering "nice." As they grin at him.

Genuinely questions how strong you are. He has a heavy, robotic arm so he's not a light man. (Plus he's chubbbyyy and I love him tummy and I wanna eat it mmm yummmm!! sorry ill stop)

wow s/o that's so rude you can't just carry him without asking like that (please please do this more often he's so into it)

The strength you have is such a mood booster? Like Heavy he gushes over you with strangers and friends like you're a Greek god.

• also feels comforted to be held bridal style like haha wow yes please

♡Medic♡

• I don't even have to tell you because you know what I'm gonna say

• of course he's into it.

• enamored, gushing, swooning, fangirling, screaming, hitting the wall, dying

• carrying him as he's half asleep from his medbay to his room woke him up, staring at you with wide eyes and a grin, his cheeks flushed a bit red as he laughs. "Mein gott, your strong!"

• bro is not a twink I get physically sick when people call him one, so if you can carry him that it quite impressive.

• idk how to write this without making it sound like he's thirsting over u I'm sorry um... he just really likes it and finds your strength an admirable trait about you.

Makes you carry heavy things and uses the excuse that he's too weak to carry jt himself so he can watch your muscles do they thing 😭🙏

♡Sniper♡

• oh. okay.

• yeah. mhm. cool.

• it's like he's fallen for you all over again

• he's quiet, hands awkwardly lying on his own lap as you carry him bridal style, smiling to yourself. His hat is covering his face fortunately for him, so you can't see his shy smile and his pink cheeks.

"Cmon Snipes, we gotta go out its a good day today!"

"Yeah sure. Whatever..."

Like demo, carry him like that he's gonna say yes to anything you tell him. He's honestly not paying attention.

• I feel like all these men are really into the strength of a person, especially snipes. Not only is it an admirable thing to have, but like I said, it's attractive. Does not like to be carried like a sack of potatoes but if you ever carry him bridal style or in a holding position he's gonna melt. Whatever bad mood he's had will slowly fade.

You'd carry him infront of you, a worried expression on your face. "What's wrong mundy? You seem so upset today." With that doting voice of yours...his heart feels like its going to explode, his bad mood lifted, he smiles at you with a sigh. "Nothin'. Just missed you."

♡Spy♡

• yeah

• dude idk what u expect he's a lanky man so of course when his partner carries him he's gonna be swooned

• top 10 ways to swoon the spy:

1. Carry the spy

• works like a charm, if he's being a tease or a little bitch all you gotta do is carry him, arms holding his hips with a smile on your face and he'll fold.

• first time you carried him he couldn't face you for the whole day, he found it the most attractive thing in the world but at the same time oh boy for once he's the flustered one.

• "I did not know you had such strength."

"Hah, I don't even need to use any of my strength. Your built like a stick, Spy."

"Fifth grader insults, that's low, especially for you Mon amour."

[yanderefarm]

.......imagine combining potatoing and the limited amount of words idea, cocksleeves dont need to talk after all :)

that lends so well into my love of making potatos dumber. like going from fully articulated man to a soft little thing that squirms and whines instead of using his words.

this became a whole thing. so enjoy you filthy animals. /lh

cw;; nsft, dead dove, amputation, electrocution, torture, unsanitary

i like that with achilles especially because for him this is the ultimate fantasy the best scenario in his world. completely dependent on you because you chose to take away his autonomy. but he still talks like he's a respectful member of society and not like he's a glorified cock sleeve, its not acceptable.

he also gets to ease into it, starting him with a good amount of words and slowly lowering it. but it gets even lower than noemie did because he doesn't even need to say pleasantries. good morning, good night, hello, its unnecessary. he needs to say yes, please, im sorry, and thank you and that's it. if he tries to waste his words on stupid things like no or stop he's going to end up punished in two ways.

it's fun to show off to your followers the sight of him using up his words. it's just a normal stream, you're playing games and in your lap is your cute little toy. everyone knows your cock is currently buried in your human onahole but you're not bouncing him or even moving, just letting him sit on your lap. someone asks how many words he has left today and so you check. it looks like he's been conservative today and he has about 10 left. so it's time to waste those precious words of your dumb toy. you make him look at the chat and people can pay for him to say things, of course you don't want them to use up all ten in one go so it's limited. the fun of watching him slowly fuck himself over begins.

"how are you doing today, pet?"

he blinks his pretty eyes and swallows.

"uhmm good..?"

"are you having fun?"

"yes!"

"what are you doing right now?"

you give him a good thrust to remind him. he gasps and whimpers with saliva dripping out of his mouth.

"mm.. t-taking master's co-cock."

that's 5.

"do you love your master?"

"yes!!"

"are you happy to be a fuck toy?"

"yes!!"

"do you ever regret losing your limbs?"

he looks back at you as best he can with a pout.

"you can say no this time." you assure him.

"no! i don't!"

that's the other 5.

"how many words do you have left?"

he blinks in confusion like he doesn't know what game you've all been playing.

"10."

that was the very last word. so you press him against your desk and push your cock even deeper into him. everyone is watching you remind him, everyone can see him and they know he's a sex toy.

"tell them thank you."

he's struggling with your cock now slamming into him making his entire body shake.

"tell them thank you." you say more sternly directing his slutty face to the camera.

"th-thank-"

the word barely leaves his mouth and he screams as the electricity buzzes through his body. that also earns him a hard slap on the ass.

"are you an ungrateful bitch? you need to be a good boy and say thank you properly."

"th-thank yyyYOUUU-"

another slap to accompany the shocks.

"thank you for watching this useless cock sleeve."

"ca-caaant-"

he's crying now as you continue to punish him along with the painful shocks. your relentless pounding of his tight hole doesn't stop either it's an overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure.

you pull him all the way onto your cock and sit back in your chair.

"tell me you can't again. see what happens."

"sowwy"

his voice is hoarse as his entire body twitches and writhes with the pain.

"now say it."

"tha-thank y-" a scream. "you fffforr-" more sobbing. "waaaaaatchingggggahh-" his body slumped forward but you pulled him back. "th-thisssss u-" his head fell against your shoulder as his body arched away from the pain. "useless-" he was flailing to get away from it. "co-coooock sleeeeeeeeveee-"

you watched as the poor toy couldn't help but release his bladder all over his stubby thighs and your lap.

"oh no... i think achilles wants to be punished even more."

[sebscore]

hello! i’m the one who asked for fluff with rbr seb, i meant a one shot if that’s okay with you :)

i’m going to use 🌑

DRINK WATER, NOT ALCOHOL | SEB V.

pairing: rbr!sebastian vettel x fem!reader

warnings: drunk seb. swearing.

author's note: thank you so much for requesting something for our beautiful princess that was rbr seb! I had fun writing this one so I hope you like how it turned out!! don't be shy and let me know what you think of it! also, if you get the title reference- you’re a legend and you should be my friend! 💞

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''Hey, what are you doing? Hey! Stop it!'' Sebastian drunkenly professed, pushing the unwanted arms away from his chest. ''I have a girlfriend, go away!''

''You're kidding, right?''

''It's not cool, just stop it!'' The Red Bull driver attempted to move away from the undesired touches. The person in front of him didn't seem to understand the man wanted to be left alone in his drunken state.

The countless refills of his beer must have done some serious damage to Sebastian's vision, because there was no reason for him to pry away from the person who found him almost sleeping on his friend's couch.

Sebastian hadn't been able to properly celebrate his second World Championship title with his friends from home. That's why one of his best mates had organized a party at his home to commemorate the driver's title defense.

Everyone was having a great time, especially the man of the hour. Y/N had seen her boyfriend drunk before, but this time it was quite a different sight. So when she saw him stumbling into one of the many rooms, she couldn't help but check up on him.

Upon walking into what seemed a ''man's cave'', she was met with a practically unconscious man, drool coming out the side of his mouth.

Y/N tried moving him into a more comfortable position as he almost fell on the cold floor. However, he protested and started pushing her away, claiming he had a girlfriend.

Sebastian didn't recognize her.

''You have a girlfriend, huh?''

He hummed at her words, a smile finding its way to his face. ''Yeah.''

''Tell me about her.'' Y/N smirked, sitting down on the ground next to him.

An unexpected snort left his mouth. ''Why do you want me to talk about her?'' But before Y/N could answer him, he proceeded. ''She's- she's so fucking hot.'' He grinned, his eyes still closed.

''She's just so- ugh, perfect. We first met when we were like 20 and it was before I was in F1 so she had no fucking idea who I was,'' he chuckled, ''but she smiled at me and I don't know what she thought of me, but I thought she was beautiful. I thought she looked like the most beautiful thing in the world.'' Sebastian smiled, almost in a dreaming state.

''I love her more than anything, I know I should tell her more- she's always there for me. That's why you can't kiss me, okay? It would hurt her and I don't want to do that. I would never want to do that, it would kill me.''

Y/N admiringly watched him, touched by the things he just told her. It was a given that Sebastian loved her, she would be an idiot not to see it. But when he said that it would kill him if he would hurt her, it hit different.

''Can you go find my girlfriend, please? I- I miss her.'' He stuttered out, making a lousy attempt to point at the door.

She tried greatly to not burst out in laughter, finding her boyfriend absolutely adorable. ''Yes, I'll go get her.'' Y/N got up from the floor, grinning to herself. She waited for a good ten seconds by the door before closing it with more force than usual.

The harsh sound made Sebastian flinch and he swiftly sat up, his hand on his chest as if he was clutching a necklace made out of pearls. ''Huh? Wha- what? Y/N? Oh, baby! I missed you so much!'' As soon as she saw him notice her, she quickly made her way over to him again. His arms found their way around her and he peppered kisses all over her face. ''You found me!''

''I did,'' she laughed, ''I'm gonna get you some water, alright? You've had enough drinks for a few weeks.''

Y/N made an advance to leave and get to the kitchen, but Sebastian firmly held her in his embrace. ''No~'' he whined, ''don't go! I don't want you to leave me!"

The woman got up despite his cute whining. ''I'll be back in a minute, loverboy. By the way, I won't give you a kiss until that alcohol-stinking mouth of yours has been washed.'' She ruffled his hair, dodging his last effort to get her to stay.

''Then get me some damn water!"