#i came up with the idea LATE yesterday

[slavhew]

DO YA THINGKU

for a twitter trend of redrawing miku as album covers!! i wanted to do one of my favorite single from gorillaz. Cover-accurate ver + closeups:

this was definitely the biggest thing ive drawn this year!! and a good chunk of it on stream. thank you everyone who tuned in!! it was loads more fun to make in company :]

[midas-well]

Chance

Come join us, they said. It'll be fun, they said! I stare at the mirror ahead of me, fists clenched, nails practically digging into my palms. I see the bottoms to the ridiculous costume they had me put on, the dark gritty pavement under my feet sprinkled with random littered junk only highlighting how shitty this night was turning to be. I look up after taking a breath, trying to see the fool staring back at me. He had little red splattering on his face, and plenty of stains on the arms and midsection of the costume especially. You'd think he was the one that got gutted.

I can feel my eyes fighting back tears suddenly, not understanding the weight of emotions welling up in my chest and suffocating me. Forcing it down and coughing to clear my now sore throat, I just look back at the mirror and watch as the fists fall limply as my hands lay by my sides. I think I know why it hurts.

I decided to give these people a chance to prove they were my friends, to prove that I mattered to them. But time and time again I was left behind. It makes sense. They all have a closer bond with each other, they care for each other. If I went along with them when they suddenly leave me, I'd trip over someone. They'd all know what they're doing but won't tell me. It's how I got left in this stupid fucking tent with mirrors creating basic a labyrinth. If I called out, they'd never come for me.

You cannot imagine how gratifying it was to know that when he screamed, nobody came either. There was little talk, that's as much as I heard. But either they couldn't find him and gave up, or are still searching and having a hard time... or they left already, perhaps assuming that their friend bc will come out. Just a little spook got him!

I know it was a bad decision, acting on an impulse just to prove a point to myself. As if I didn't already know they were fake people. If they were here, they'd have picture-perfect reflections, like plastic dolls glammed up for the camera. But what's done is done. I know I'll suffer the consequences later, I don't have the energy to bother with covering my tracks. But hey, it doesn't hurt to take one last look at the prize I won, right?

"...oh."

Peeking around the corner, where there once lay the body of who I'd call a frat boy, now was nothing. At most the bloodied dirt was still there, but now it looked natural. The mirrors were also cleaned up.

I could think of what happened, how this happened, but really? It doesn't so much matter to me. The corpse is gone, and so are my problems, beyond how it was cleaned up. I may as well just leave, try and find the group of phonies. I have to get out of this costume, though.

Tearing off the blood-stained outfit of a rabbit clown--seriously, whose idea was it to make me wear that?--I toss it aside, somewhere near where the corpse once was. That could be my secret kill room, nobody needs to know. And surely, whatever took care of the body, it might just clean up that outfit, too. Doesn't matter if it does or not to me, though.

As I make my way out, I sigh as I see the exit to the tent. There's a sound of something scraping the pavement beneath me. That's when I finally gained cognizance of the fact that there was dirt in that one area. As I whipped my head in the direction of the sound, looking down, I see nothing. Yet strangely, I have this image in my mind of claws, talons perhaps, reaching for my ankles.

I brush it off. I'm out, so it doesn't matter anymore. "I'd best be off to find these losers, if they even remember they invited me," I mutter to myself bitterly, heading off into the sea of people to find one familiar group. But I feel this itch under my skin, somewhere in my leg. What I think to myself at this moment? "Maybe I'll give them all a little taste of what it means to be left behind by people who you thought cared."

[mimbotomy]

I'm sorry to hear that planning has been stressful, but best wishes this Saturday!!! I'm so excited for you and your wedding and your marriage and wish you every happiness 💕.

Thank you! I am very excited too! Mostly because I get to marry the love of my life 🩷🩷🩷 but also because there are only four days left and judging from my track record this last month that means I will probably have to deal with🤞🏼only🤞🏼four more things going wrong! 🎉 And then I’ll be married to my favorite person and the stress will probably be gone! ✨

(Please send good vibes my way it’s been a very weird hectic month 😂)

[overdevelopedglasses]

Tojoctober Day 20 - Phone

(Please select an item to be printed)

Alt title is from “Trials” by Starset

The LaD gang talk about mobile games.

(no spoilers!)

—-----------------

“Hey, Zhao-san, what are you doing?”

Joon-gi Han walks up to the Chinese man, who’s deeply engrossed in his phone. 

“Oh, this? Just a little game I like to play sometimes. You know, I have this thing on me all the time, don’t want it to be all for business. I don’t know if you’d understand that, would you, Han-kun?”

Zhao shows his phone to the other man, and Joon-gi Han sees the game he was referring to: a yellow bird was face-first on the ground right in front of two green pipes, and the English writing for “Game Over” was written on the screen, with two buttons hovering below them.

“I don’t have games on my phone, since I never thought about doing something like that… How does this game work?” Joon-gi Han asks, trying to mask his curiosity. Zhao gives him a mischievous grin.

“Well, it’s skill-based. You have to get this dumb little bird through the pipes and up your score that way. You just have to find the right rhythm to make the bird fly, in a way.”

He hands his phone to Joon-gi Han, with the title screen now visible.

“Just tap the button on the left to play.” Zhao says with a smile, taking a sip of his drink.

Joon-gi Han does so, and soon becomes engrossed in the game. The pattern he has to tap in becomes a weird bit of second nature to him, so he quickly is able to rack up his score with another few attempts. A few minutes pass before a voice cuts into his concentration.

“Wait, Zhao-san, how’d you get Flappy Bird on your phone?”

The voice belonged to Eri, the young secretary walking up to stand behind Joon-gi Han. He tilts his head so that she can see him play. Of course, this small action takes his focus away, which means the bird slams into the ground once again. He looks back and curses under his breath. His score was so high, too. 

Zhao gives the two of them a chuckle. “Well, I have my ways, and my connections.”

“No way, you have Flappy Bird?” Adachi pipes up, and Joon-gi Han sees the older man swivel on his bar stool away from his drink. “I heard that the game had been taken down from the application store a while ago?”

“Yup. What games do you have on your phone, Adachi-san?”

“Glad you asked!” Adachi jumps up from his barstool and shuffles over to the trio, pulling out his phone and turning it sideways.

“It’s this game called Genshin Impact! It has a really rich story and some great character designs.” Adachi flips his phone around to the group and shows off a somewhat small girl with blue hair, manipulating ice magic.

“What… the hell is that?”

“Don’t give me that!” Adachi replies, nudging Joon-gi Han in the shoulder, producing a chuckle out of Zhao.

“Well, why is this character the one you want to show us?” Zhao asks, arching his eyebrow.

“Well, I really like her story, for once. It’s really compelling. And she’s really powerful in battle. There are more characters than just her!”

“Maybe I should give it a try…” Eri says, outwardly pondering the thought, but Joon-gi Han can tell she isn’t very serious about the statement. He chuckles to himself.

“Hell yeah! Join me, Eri-chan. Maybe you can help me convince Nanba to start playing it, although that requires him to get a phone…” It was Adachi’s turn to become lost in thought, but a new voice flows into the main room of Survive.

“Really, Adachi? Of course you’d play Genshin.”

Saeko emerges from the stairway, leaning against the wall with a smirk, drawing laughter from Zhao and Eri. Joon-gi Han simply grins.

“What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“I just expected someone like you to play the game.” she retorts, causing Joon-gi Han to join the laughter. It’s a weird feeling, genuinely laughing in front of people, but he also has a growing trust in his friends. He can let a couple walls down, can’t he?

“Well, what games do you play, Sa-chan?” Adachi asked with a bite of confidence to his tone.

“Candy Crush, of course.” Saeko replies, and Adachi lets out a shocked gasp. 

“What’s Candy Crush?” Joon-gi Han asked, and Saeko gave him a look that just said “really?”

“Wow, the Geomijul really have you really living under a rock.” This earns her a returning glare from the man. “You match different colors together and they clear a board. It’s a puzzle.”

Joon-gi Han’s ears perked up at that. He always liked puzzles. “Candy Crush, right?” He grabs his own phone, one that the Geomijul only recently let him take outside of the territory, and begins to search the application store for puzzle games, finding many different varieties of puzzles. Mysteries, things like what Saeko described, and an odd one about a grandmother? He shakes his head and puts his phone away, filing the browsing of games as something to do later.

“What games do you have, Eri?”

“Oh! I play this game called Chicken Evolution! I really like it since it’s so simple, and it runs in the background, so I only have to check it every few hours.” Eri pulls up the cute looking game, with…

“Are those… mutant chickens?” Zhao asked, with a weird expression on his face.

“Well, the game is called Chicken Evolution, Zhao-san.” Adachi replies. “I’d expect there to be some weird ass designs.”

“Hey! That’s not nice. Apologize to Omelette Junior and Omelette the Seventh right now, Adachi-san.”

The group starts to laugh, but Joon-gi Han swivels in his chair as he hears the door to Survive open. Thankfully, the figure standing there is not one that sets off Joon-gi Han’s danger alarms, and he lets himself smile. 

“Wait, what’s this about games on your phone?” Ichiban steps into the space, a few grocery bags in his hands. He walks over to the bar, setting some down, and the bartender takes a couple of the bags from him, beginning to put some of the things away.

“Oh, hey Kasuga. Yeah, we’re showing each other what games we have on our phones. Do you have any games downloaded?”

“You… you can have games on your phone?” Kasuga asks with wonder and amazement coating his voice.

“Yes…?” Zhao replies, then remembers “Oh yeah, you were in prison since 2001. But yeah, technology has come a long wa-”

“CAN I GET DRAGON QUEST ON MY PHONE!?” Ichiban shouts with excitement, interrupting Zhao on accident.

This causes the whole party to burst into laughter. 

“I mean, you probably can?” Saeko taps away on her phone, then smiles. “Yeah, it looks like there’s a bunch of them on here.” She shows the group her screen, which has many of the Dragon Quest games on the store. “They seem to be a few hundred yen, but there you have it.”

Ichiban lets out a shout of excitement, hurriedly pulling out his own phone from his pocket.

“Or… I could probably get something special working on your phone, where you don’t have to pay…” Joon-gi Han winks at Ichiban, who lets out a small gasp and smiles.

“Han-kun, that’s piracy!” Zhao says sternly, poking him in the side jokingly.

The group starts to laugh again, calming down after a couple seconds.

“What about you, bartender? What do you play?” Eri asks the man who owns the establishment.

All heads turn towards the bartender, who had just finished putting away the groceries Ichiban brought in. He grabs a glass from the dish rack and begins to dry it, before responding cooly,

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

This draws groans, and then laughter, out from the party. They continue to debate the games until Nanba comes downstairs, which then makes everyone berate Nanba into getting his own phone.

[cookies-and-creamless]

Balloon Art Day 11

Day 1 - Day 2 - Day 3 - Day 4 - Day 5 - Day 6 - Day 7 - Day 8 - Day 9 - Day 10

41. Crab - Ortencia

I really wanted to make something yesterday, but it wasn't coming along well, so I scrapped it. Instead, I got this crab done today! The tutorial that this piece is based on had a total of eight legs, but I wanted mine to be more true to life, with ten legs. Little did I know that this would disproportionately increase the length of time I would work on it! Apparently the choice to give it eight legs wasn't one made lightly, and the introduction of another set of legs with no other modifications makes it significantly harder to get everything lined up and in place. I also chose to skip a step in the process of putting the legs in, which would be to tie each of the middle three legs to the one on the opposite side. This would hold them more firmly in place and apply a pressure to the main body that would make it slightly more compact. I mostly held off because I was having trouble getting my fingers to do what I needed them to, but I think that it would have caused more problems than it would solve for my ten-legged design. I think it's a great touch for the original, though. Since it worked out in the end, I'm quite pleased with my variation! If it hadn't worked, I probably would have just taken out a pair of legs and held my desire for realism in check. Hopefully my next piece won't have this much delay behind it, but if I make something I like this much, I won't mind all that much how long it takes.

[thinkinonsense]

call me if you're lonely⟡

old man!logan howlett x phone sex hotline worker!reader

cw: dirty talk, mutual masturbation

author's note: very short. just an idea that came to mind.

masterlist

this is so desperate, logan thought to himself as he dialed the number written on the fourth page in the second column. in pretty cursive words it read, call me if you're lonely!

your number had been living in the back of his head for almost a month now but he never got this close to calling it. in the column, it's written that you are a college student working on your masters degree and that you are very popular within your profession as a phone sex hotline worker. honestly, logan didn't care if you just started yesterday. he's been so stressed and overworked lately that he needs a release soon. logan waited as the phone rang after entering his card information. he's sat up on the old mattress under him, waiting patiently to see if anyone answers.

on the third ring, someone picks up.

"thanks for calling, hush hotline." you say, giving him the typical welcome speech before jumping straight in. "what would ya' like me to call you tonight, sugar?"

the sweet tone in your voice made logan's boxers feel tighter. resting his hand on top of his heavy cock, squeezing lightly and slowly stroking himself over the thin material.

"james is fine, honey." logan mutters.

"i like the way you call me, honey." you purr, getting relaxed in bed.

you had a long day; woke up late, missed class, messed up during important meeting at work and needed to blow off some steam. normally, the people you talk to over the phone don't have an effect on you, instead opting to fake it and offer phony pornstar like moans but something made you want to give it another shot.

"is that so?"

the stranger's voice was rough around the edges. deep, cold, straight to the point. it sent a shiver up your spine. usually, your customers were weak. willing to give into your every word and fully submit to you.

"mhm," you hum, lightly running your fingers up and down your thigh. "so, what's gotcha call in tonight, james? rough day at work or you just wanna hear me touch myself for you?"

"bit of both." he was already lost in this little world between the two of you.

“aw, can’t wait to make you feel good." you tell him, playing with the lace of your underwear. "wanna hear what i'm wearing right now?"

"mhm." he grunts.

"a white t-shirt and lacy blue underwear. wish you were here to take them off of me." you sigh, slipping your hand under the waistband.

"what would you do if i was there right now?"

"hmm, think i'd start by kissing you, making sure you get nice and hard for me then i would beg you to fuck my tight throat for hours. are you hard for me right now?"

"y-yes." logan sighs, trying to slow down a bit.

"that's sweet, james. got me blushing just thinkin' about it." you run your middle finger through your folds, gathering the slick and circling your button a couple times.

"just blushing?" he teases, catching you off guard.

"not 'just blushing'." you giggle softly. "you also got me r-really–ah, fuck! really soaked."

logan could hear the obscene squeak of you dipping your fingers inside of yourself. his chest moves up and down at the same rhythm as his strokes. your pretty little gasps made it difficult for him not to release right away.

"s-shit, honey." he groans, listening to the small wet slaps of you fucking yourself. "wanna taste that pussy of yours. i'm sure it's as sweet as that fuckin' mouth you got on you, honey."

never have you actually gotten wet from the men that call you. most of them let you do all the talking, only offering moans and whimpers. you couldn't quite place a finger on it but something about james was doing it for you.

"w-wish it was you inside of me instead of my fingers." you whine, tickling the spot that makes your vision blur.

"bet you would look so pretty wrapped around my cock, honey."

"i would look even prettier with you dripping out of me." faintly, you can hear him shuffling around, trying to stifle his groans. "don't hide yourself, baby. wanna hear you."

like a rubber band, something snapped inside of logan. unable to control his noises anymore, he's fucking his fist faster than before, chasing after every little moan you let out.

you move to rubbing your button switching occasionally, picturing the man that you believe james to be. a little older and rugged. maybe even someone your father would be friends with. someone you would definitely have a secret crush on.

logan's hips thrusted with need. the louder you got, the faster his orgasm was approaching. he had to hold off, he thought to himself. hear you cum first. by the broken whines and little hiccups you let out, he could tell you were only moments away from your release.

"f-fuck, i'm so close." you squeal, legs shaking a little as you near your high.

"me too, honey."

within seconds, your head is thrown back against the silky pillow case. the sheets under you were drenched but you were too full of bliss to care. logan finally allowed himself to let go as well, pearly white spurts coating his lower stomach and even some landing on his tank top. it's quiet for a minute or so before your little giggles can be heard on the other end of the line.

"something funny?" he asks, confused.

"no, no, it's just..." you giggle again with a sigh. "ever since i started this job, no one's ever made me orgasm. at least not like that."

"hm.." logan couldn't fight off the smile creeping on his face. "might need to call more often then."

"i'll be looking forward to it."

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cherry Picking.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: After your first night with Spencer, you wake up and see that he's left you two dollars and a thank-you note on your bedside table.

Words: 2,3k.

TW: lots of mentions and references to sex, but nothing completely explicit. the reader is quite dramatic and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). SO MUCH chaos and lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This idea just came to me out of the blue, and I have to say that Sex and the City has had a bit of an influence. I love the chaos, the conversations between friends, and Spencer being the best man in the world (I'm picturing him kind of like in his season four version).

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Saturday afternoon

“Two dollars?!”

Penelope's and JJ's simultaneous exclamations and surprised faces when you finished speaking were pretty much to be expected. They noticed a change in your expression and took a moment to compose themselves, as did the rest of the people in the room, who glanced curiously at your table from time to time. It was certainly a fascinating sight, three women having an animated conversation about their lives over milkshakes as if they were drinks, especially considering that one of them was pregnant and her belly looked like it was about to explode.

You didn't blame anyone for reacting that way, especially not your friends. You were still pretty shocked by what happened, especially by how thoughtless the man you'd developed feelings for and worked closely with over the past few years was. It was a unsettling to find a tip on your nightstand after one of the most memorable nights you'd ever had. You still remembered the excitement you felt when you went to Spencer's apartment yesterday to watch a movie as part of your fourth or fifth date. He seemed nervous when you started kissing more intensely, and the couch wasn't the best setting. The sensation of your body on his bed and his lips on your skin was incredible.

It was a good memory, extremely good if you took away the embarrassment of waking up the next day in his empty bed with money waiting for you, as if you had performed a service.

“Maybe there was a misunderstanding and the money was left on the table by mistake.” Jennifer spoke again in a reassuring tone after turning the matter over. “Spencer can be a little clumsy sometimes.”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line as you listened to her attempt to provide an explanation for his actions. But given their friendship, this was to be expected.

“And he was in a hurry to catch his plane and go to his mother.” Garcia added with a forced smile, trying to lift your spirits. “It all makes sense.”

Yes, it was understandable that he was leaving in a hurry because he had to catch a flight to spend his weekend off with his mother. That didn't worry you, but there was something else that was curious.

“How do you explain the thank-you note?” You asked, taking out the paper and the two dollars you'd pulled out to show them as proof from your purse.

“It was a thank you for hanging out with him, a sweet gesture.” JJ said, taking a sip of her milkshake and patting her belly.

It seemed more like a sour gesture to you, that you had been left with your dignity on the floor. As you left his apartment, you didn't know whether to cry or laugh because it sounded like a bad joke that the only man you thought was decent and for whom you allowed yourself to have feelings would do such a thing.

“My love life is going downhill.” You said.

Just then, the restaurant door opens and Emily appears. After greeting her and apologizing for her late arrival, she asks about the cause of your apparent distress. As a profiler, she was astute enough to know something was wrong just by looking at you.

“What's wrong, honey?” She started talking as soon as she sat down next to you and took a quick look at the table. “Those milkshakes look good, I want one.”

“Spencer thinks I'm a prostitute.” You spoke up without thinking, which surprised Emily and caused her to briefly lose her grip on the menu.

There was a long, awkward silence.

Perhaps you were too direct in saying something that you had been trying to ignore for your own mental health.

“Just a heads-up, we've got a baby in the room. No need to say that word!” Penelope was the first to speak, gently covering JJ's belly with her hands. “He can hear you.”

At that moment, Reid and his comments about pregnancy data at every stage came to mind. You felt a little uncomfortable because you knew it was a little unrealistic to focus on the positives at a time like this.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, baby.” You looked regretfully at your friends and spoke to Jennifer's belly, giving it a gentle caress. “Don't listen.”

“I need context, please.” Emily said confusedly, trying to understand what was going on and why you had said what you had said.

You let out a deep breath, preparing yourself to recount the story once more.

“Okay, Spencer and I made...milkshakes. Very good milkshakes, really good if you know what I mean.” You tried to explain slowly, watching your words and your friends' expressions. “I woke up when he was leaving, he gave me a kiss on my forehead and said to keep sleeping, that he had to catch his flight.”

“That's sweet, but weird to know.” Emily commented quizzically, looking at the menu intently again. “What's the part...you know?”

“Oh, when he thought I was-” You stop yourself as you see how JJ looks at you. “A pie maker.”

You could tell from their expressions that they were about to laugh at your attempts to keep the conversation friendly.

“I woke up hours later to find two dollars on the nightstand with a thank-you note.” You finished the story. “To him, I'm worth two fu...sugary dollars.”

Prentiss stared at you for several seconds, waiting for me to tell her it was a joke. Only when that didn't happen did she speak. “That sounds weird and awful, but I don't think he would do something like that on purpose. Especially you, he really likes you.”

“He likes me enough to give me two dollars.”

When you finished speaking, you experienced a moment of discomfort in your stomach as your own words took effect. You were surprised to find that on a deeper level, what had happened was causing you more pain than you had anticipated.

“That doesn't sound like Reid at all. I've known him for years, and he's not that kind of man.” Penelope said with a frown, trying to reassure you. “I'm sure it's a mix-up.”

You were looking for the same thing and hoping it was just a misunderstanding, but your previous bad experiences made you think otherwise. You'd met enough men to know that they could always be worse. What was different now was that you really liked this particular man. You really longed for him to be different from everyone else.

However, things weren't always as you'd hoped. You'd invested a lot of hope in making your fairy tale come true, and it was starting to take its toll.

“Have you had a chance to speak with him?” JJ inquired.

“He's with his mother, I won't bother him.” You replied with a strange simplicity that made your friends suspicious. “I'm fine, I've calmed down.” You added as you saw their worried faces.

“I love you, but sometimes you scare me.” Emily said, watching you drink from your smoothie as if it contained a painkiller. “It's not okay to pretend that everything's fine.”

“It's understandable to feel a bit discouraged about this. Things may seem challenging at the moment, but I believe things will improve when you discuss this with him.” Jennifer's hand gently touched yours, offering a comforting gesture.

“I'm sure everything will be fine. You have our support if you need it.” Penelope joined in with the motivational words and gave you a reassuring smile.

You took the last sip of your milkshake and leaned back in your seat for a moment before replying. “I'm fine, girls. I don't plan to lose my head over a man, I promised myself.”

They looked at you with some skepticism, but you didn't flinch. You were confident that if you were mentally prepared not to be defeated, or at least not to look defeated, you would be well prepared for the day of the meeting.

You weren't going to lose your mind over this.

Monday morning

You were definitely losing your mind, and no cup of tea or internet video that promised to do so had been able to relax you one bit. You had been cooped up in the office you shared with Penelope for several minutes, pacing in your chair while everyone in the conference room waited for information about a new case and your presence. The mere thought of having to face Reid again was making you feel pretty uneasy.

All weekend, you had been trying to reassure yourself that you were doing well, that you were not hurt or affected by what happened, that it was just one more disappointment to add to the long list you had written since you were a teenager, and that it was normal for someone with your luck. You were not a princess, you were not going to meet a prince, and you were old enough to know that.

But being in the same building as your prince turned toad was not as easy as you had hoped. You prayed that your presence would not be necessary and that the jet would soon take off to take them all away, especially him.

A few sudden knocks on the door startled you. You automatically thought it was your boss coming to scold you for being late, and your blood froze.

“I apologize for the delay, Hotch. I assure...” You spoke promptly as soon as the door opened and a male figure appeared.

But obviously, it wasn't him.

“Oh, sorry, I'm not Hotch. But hey, how are you?” Spencer smiled at you and walked toward you, looking a little nervous.

“Fine.” You replied dryly, getting up from your seat to grab your tablet and some folders to carry into the conference room.

In your mind, you had planned to make a scene as soon as you saw him and make it clear that you didn't cost just two dollars. But after thinking about it a lot, the fear of losing your job over it was greater. And now it was a mixture of that reasoning with your feeling of paralysis at actually having him in front of you.

“I...I missed you over the weekend.” He stopped you before you could walk away, gently holding your hand. The feeling alone made you stop and look at him angrily. “I thought about you a lot, too much, and I bought you something.” He let go of your hand to pull a small box out of his pocket.

“How dare you?” You blurt out, taking a step back.

He looked a little uncomfortable and seemed to be in pain. “I'm sorry if I overstepped. I didn't mean to impose. Did I cross a line? I'm so sorry, I just thought-”

“What? That you could embarrass me even more? Didn't I already go through enough?”

That's when you took out two dollars from your purse and gave it to him.

“Could I ask why this is?” Spencer was still frowning and looked just as hurt as you.

His apparent lack of understanding of the situation made you much angrier. You had thought he was probably the smartest man you had ever met in your entire life, but suddenly, in your eyes, he was an idiot.

“I'm refunding your payment, Reid.” You replied firmly, without hiding your frustration.

The confusion on his face seemed to multiply as he tried to understand. “What are you talking about? I gave you your money back.”

You tilted your head slightly to one side.

“Saturday morning, I left on the nightstand the two dollars you lent me a week ago when we bought coffee. You know I don't like being in debt.” Spencer began to explain calmly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and present the facts in a clear and concise manner.

Oh, you do remember lending him money at some point, or rather, inviting him for coffee that he said he'd pay you back. That day when his hair was perfect in the wind, when he smiled at you and told you some interesting facts about coffee beans.

“I mentioned it when I said goodbye, but you looked so tired that I left you a thank you note in case you forgot.” He went on to explain. “A lot of studies say that you wake up to full strength at least 20 to 30 minutes after you actually open your eyes. And you still had them closed when I said goodbye.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I...I thought you-” You fell silent as you saw the stunned look on his face. You didn't want to look crazy, so you quickly added. “I just thought wrong.”

“I'm sorry, I don't understand.” He said, a little embarrassed. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, no, I just...did you bring me a gift?” You changed the subject, taking the box he had previously offered you. Inside was a necklace with a cherry blossom charm.

“Your computer wallpaper is a picture of cherry blossoms. And I saw this necklace in a store when I was walking with my mom, and I thought you might like it. But it's okay if you don't want it-” He spoke fast until you interrupted him.

“I love it, thank you.” You smiled at him and took the necklace out of the box. “Could you help me with this?”

With some trepidation and uncertainty still present, Spencer positioned himself behind you with the jewel in his hands, carefully brushed your hair aside and fastened the necklace around your neck. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin made you feel a slight shiver.

“Thanks.” You said as you turned around to face him. You gave him a hug, though you were a little unsure.

He returned your embrace, feeling a sense of relief that things between you were okay. “You don't have to thank me.”

“It's not about the gift. It's just a way to say thanks for being you.”

Perhaps he was your prince after all.

[selineram3421]

can I make a request for an Alastor x reader? Where y/n is Husk's sibling and Alastor won't stop flirting with y/n and Husk is just not having it? (And the rest of the HH crew are just in the background shipping Alastor and y/n)

*swipes up* Cat Demon Reader!!!! FUCK YEAH!

Hissy Kitty

Prologue

Alastor X Reader

Warnings⚠

⚠ cussing, protective older brother Husk, Alastor loves annoying your brother, italics = thoughts ⚠

Husk was very protective of you and made sure you were taken care of. In Living and afterlife, he kept you out of his "business" to keep you safe.

Of course you surprise him by showing up at the hotel.

"What the fuck are you doing here!?"

"Surprise!", you cheered and gave your older brother a hug.

He didn't want you anywhere near his work. It was too risky. You would have been made a target. He didn't want HIM to know about you.

"Answer the question.", he grumbled but hugged you back.

"I haven't seen you in a while and I just wanted to-", you began, pulling back a bit from the hug, taking a look around the hotel lobby that was behind him.

"Look, I'll call you and tell you all about it but you need to go before-", he tried to get you to leave quickly.

"Husker!"

Shit.

He was pissed that he was too late.

"What are you doing trying to chase a guest out?", the demon in red walked over and pulled you into the hotel. "We are trying to invite them in."

"This one ain't looking to stay in the hotel!", your brother hissed and tried to pull you away from the red dressed demon.

You were suddenly spun and dipped by the man in red. It shocked you so much that you held onto the red demon tightly.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! I am Alastor the facility manager.", Alastor grinned as he gazed down at you. "And who might you be?"

Such an adorable thing. He thought when seeing your ears pinned back and eyes having turned into slits, his grin widening when he noticed Husk getting angrier.

"Um..can you let me up now? This is a very weird way of greeting..", you squirmed, your tail flicking in annoyance.

After letting you go, Alastor took note of how bristled up the fur of his acquaintance was.

How interesting..

"Forgive me dear, I can get quite theatrical.", he laughed and fixed his bowtie. "And your name?"

"I'm-"

"Not staying.", Husk cut in. "They only came to see me, now back off."

"What the hell, can't I greet a demon?", you huffed.

Your brother pulls you away to speak in private.

"Not this one! This prick is someone I don't want you hanging around with.", he whispered growled, putting his hands on your shoulders. "Go home, put some wards or some shit for protection and don't come back here again!"

"Damn it Husk!", you slapped his hands away. "I came here to check up on you!"

Alastor stays where he is to enjoy the show. Glancing to the side when seeing Angel step into the lobby.

"Its been years! I haven't heard from you until two weeks ago about this place. Where have you been!? Do you know how worried I was!?"

"Psst! Smiles! Who the fuck is kitty whiskers?", the spider asks.

"Haven't the faintest idea but this argument is getting amusing.", he responds.

"I told you that I moved! That should be enough!", Husk gestured to the hotel.

"Yeah, its nice to know you're alive but you could have at least told me how you've been! Did you make any new friends? Did you drink until you blacked out again? Something else for fucks sake!", you yelled.

"I'm alive!", your brother yelled back. "I drank yesterday!", he pushed you towards the door. "I don't have friends!", he opened the door. "Now leave!"

"Tsk tsk!", Alastor tutted and used his shadows to pull you away from the door, moving you into his hold. "They are our guest, even if they are just visiting Husker~"

The Radio Demon's smile growing bigger when he saw the cat clench his fists.

"You are welcome to visit anytime to see this-", the red demon gestures to your brother. "-hissy kitty that you know."

"Ha!", you quickly covered your mouth to keep your laugh silent.

"A smile! Finally!", Alastor leaned closer to you. "I'd like to see it if you don't mind."

"Back off!", Husk pushed the red dressed demon away and took your hand. "Come on, I'll show you around."

"I can stay!?", you asked your brother.

"Only for a few hours!", he replied.

You stayed longer than a few hours.

Charlie had caught wind and was excited to meet you.

Husk drank from his bottle, watching as you talked to the Princess and Vaggie. The two were hooked on whatever story you were telling.

"So Husky~", Angel slid over.

"Don't you fucking call me that ever again.", the cat grumbled before continuing to drink.

"Who's the new cat strolling about?", the spider asked. "I've never seen you so pushy with someone before~ Are they an ex?"

"None of your business and ew. Fuck no.", Husk wiped his mouth after he finished the bottle. "Forget about them. They need to leave anyway.", he said before walking over to you.

.

"Hi Husk!", you waved as you entered the hotel.

"Fucking shit. What did you not understand about staying away!?"

You had a smug grin and pranced over to him.

"Can't really stay away from where I work~", you said and showed your employment papers.

"What.", your brother growled.

"While I was talking to the Princess during the tour, you stepped out for a bit and I told her I wanted to work here!", you beamed, cat tail swaying calmly. "So now I can't leave! Yay!"

"Are you fucking stupid!?", Husk yelled.

"Now Husker.", Alastor appeared from the shadows behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. "That is no way to talk to your fellow coworker."

The Radio Demon smiled cheekily when seeing the cat demon's fur bristle in anger.

"Let's show you all of the staff rooms!", he said suddenly and turned you towards the stairs. "There are quite a few closets littered about for cleaning supplies! For now that is what you'll do with Niffty until the Princess can think of where to put you."

"Is there any cleaning supplies?", you asked a little suspicious.

"Haven't a clue! But let's find out!"

You were near Alastor most of the day.

Husk actually followed you both until the "tour" ended.

"And that is all of the cleaning closets so far!", the red man grinned.

All of you were now standing in one of the many hallways. The fourth floor if you remember.

"Thank you for pointing them out.", you removed his hand from your shoulder. "Little less of that if you don't mind."

"Oh! I didn't even notice.", Alastor held his hands behind his back. "Do remind me if I slip again."

Husk quickly took you away from the red demon and walked you towards the lobby.

"Look, I'm glad you're here. Really. But its not safe for you to be around that smiling asshole.", your brother hissed.

"Husk, I'm not as clueless as you think I am.", you sigh and shook his arm off. "I'll keep myself safe.", you finish and walk away.

The cat demon stayed behind, groaning as he slides his hand down his face, feeling on edge, tired, and annoyed all at once.

"I've never seen you around a demon like them~", Alastor appears from the shadows. "And you're so protective!", he walks in front of the cat demon. "What a good older brother you are.", he leans back and spins his head to look at the demon.

"Don't you fucking try anything!", Husk threatens.

The Radio Demon laughs and stands up straight. "We'll have to go over our deal again!", he says while fixing his coat. "I hope you added their protection in."

"You piece of shit-!", Husk extends his claws and opens his wings up.

"I must be off! Who knows what trouble the guests have gotten into already!", Alastor walks away from the angry cat.

The Radio Demon hummed as he walked down the hallway, a slight skip in his step as his smile grew wider.

Oh how entertaining~

I love cats💕 Also this is turning into a short story because Husk is gonna be hella pissed.

~Seline, the person.

Part 1

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @gallantys @+?

ML for Alastor🎙 | ChL for HK😾

[kaivenom]

How would Benedict Bridgerton court you... HCS

Masterlist

You both first crossed glances at a ball, you were not a debutant, just passing around, just like his sister Eloise, you weren't much interested on claiming attention, but you catched his.

His first thought when he saw you in the back of the salon, tapping your feet to the rythm of the song while looking at a big painting was that he needed to paint you.

He spent the rest of the night, admiring you from the distance, until you both almost bumped into each other.

Inmediatly he took the chance and asked you to dance.

It was the funniest night you both had, cause after the dance, you talked about art, and drinked, and danced again, all night until your mother decided it was time to leave.

After that night, you didn't heard from him in a couple of weeks, you almost thought he forgot about you.

The thing was that he was collecting information about you, everything he could find that he knew you would like.

Then a bouquet of your favourite flowers came to your door, signed by the name of "Your artist", you knew it was him, but he surely wants to be romantic so you let him be.

A couple of days later, your favourite crystals, and then gems, and fabrics, and art supplies.

With this routine of secretism, a couple of months passed by with his gifts demostrating that he knows you.

You saw each other a couple more times during balls and dances, until you decided to approach him again.

"Why do you sent me notes but not talk to me?"

"I want you to see that i can know you better than anyone, plus i want you to be as crazy in love for me as i am for you."

A smile escaped both of your lips, suddently you had an idea.

You dropped your fan carefully and he inmediatly get down to pick it up.

"So... that's how you like to play then." he told you with a smirk.

"You said you wanted me to get crazy about you, who says i can't play that game too?"

"Then we both must play."

The once innocent game of knowing each other turned into a rollercoaster of temptation.

Small touches while dancing, innapropiate comments while talking in public, purposely moving to the corner of the room to have more privacy with your not so discreet behaviour.

(I firmly believe that Benedict is a switch with a very brat behaviour, so picture that)

Until your mother decided that you were going to marry a noble.

Thats when the game stopped and started to get serious.

Benedict distanced himself from you and you got so sad from the lonelyness that awaited your future that you wouldn't leave your room.

Your mother didn't let you alone in any social act, that means that you can't talk to him... ike that could make a change.

One week until the wedding and everything feels bad when suddently you received a bouquet of your favourite flowers with a note.

"I will not cut you like this flowers, but i will keep you to myself no matter how, with love Your Artist.

You almost broke in tears right there, your mother entered the room with your future husband to finish some business.

They didn't even care to ask you what happened, the just talked about your future like nothing.

One of the servants announced Benedict and everyone on the room turned around.

"I am here to propose."

"Too late, she is my fiancee." you couldn't believe what was happening.

"I double the endowment, my mother and brother approved it."

You know your mother will marry you to the best match she could find, which means the one who could provide more money.

After verifying everything was right, your mother inmediatly sent out your now ex-fiancee and welcomed with open arms your new husband.

"How?" you asked him, still processing.

"I intended to send you that flowers yesterday, i don't know why they got today." he sounded more concerned about his time planning that your tear, "Oh, you mean all the other things, sorry for ignoring you, once you got engaged my family forced me to separate myself to not staint your virtue... so i was convincing them to let me marry you."

"I..." you kissed him on the lips with passion, with all the emotions you've been keeping inside.

"I think we should wait to the weeding night, in a week." your eyes opened surprised while he justs smirks, "I didn't want any longer to kall you mine, so i managed to get a wedding licency too."

"I love you."

"I know, and i love you too."

[lightseoul]

cw. worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (we're getting there, dw), a lot of cussing (bkg-typical), it's time to meet the bakusquad!, mentions of alcohol, a tiny ass mention of smth nsfw

words. 4.3k (this is getting out of hand. this was way too fun to write, tho!)

masterlist | part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 7, part 8, part 9

You check your reflection through your phone’s front camera for the umpteenth time, lurching a bit forward and almost smashing your face with the device when the bus you’re riding drives over a bump.

With a sigh, you glance through the window to your right, spotting the familiar landmark that Kirishima mentioned in passing a few days ago.

A few days ago when he waltzed into the conference room in the middle of your heated conversation with Bakugou.

Right when he dropped that nonsensical one-liner, Bakugou was on him in a flash, shoving your other boss so hard that the man stumbled a few steps back in surprise. You watched as they had what seemed to be a wordless exchange, before all the blood appeared to drain from Kirishima’s face, leaving him so pale that you thought the redhead was about to pass out any second.

“Freaking finally—” you recall Kirishima repeating, voice wobbly, “Y-you finally have a g-girlfriend!”

Bakugou didn’t seem too pleased at the shade, encasing his co-founder in a headlock, eventually releasing him after the latter cried out his pleas and apology.

After the man managed to catch his breath, he came up with the suggestion that you hang out with the rest of their friend group.

“It’ll be fun!” he said. “We’d love to get to know you.”

“Tch.” Bakugou merely replied, seemingly not too keen on the idea.

“I don’t know…”

“I can ask PR about it,” Kirishima ignored you, “I bet you being seen with us is good for your image!”

Which leads you to the present moment.

The mechanical voice announces your arrival at the nearest station to the trendy, new, upscale restaurant that Mina specifically picked out for today’s get-together. Kirishima assured you when you, again, showed reluctance when he ran down the details yesterday, saying Kaminari and Sero vouched for it, that it had a built-in arcade or something.

Deep in your thoughts and on autopilot, you hop off the bus and begin your slow but steady trek toward the venue. By the time you reach it, it’s already 6:37 PM, a bit later than your agreed-upon meeting time.

Pushing the glass doors open, you enter the space and swiftly scan the area. Bakugou’s friends, who you just remember also happened to be top pro-heroes, are already packed in a booth near the back of the restaurant. As you walk towards them, you see that Mina, Kirishima, and Sero are seated beside each other while Kaminari is looking a bit lonely on the extra chair at the tail-end of the table. You’re guessing the empty seats in front of the aforementioned three have been reserved for their close friend and you, the fake girlfriend.

Right, you say to yourself. Time to put on a show.

Kirishima is the first one to spot you, and you can’t help the squeeze your heart makes as he visibly brightens up when he does. “Bro, over here!”

At that, you plaster on the friendliest smile you can muster and trudge towards where they are.

“Sorry I’m late, you guys,” you say as you slide into your seat, “I had to call an emergency meeting at work. I came as fast as I could…”

You look at the three, (not really) new faces (because you see them on TV all the time), suddenly feeling nervous and singled out.

Desperate for something familiar to have near you, you ask: “Uh, where’s Bakugou?”

The moment you stutter the question out, you find yourself immediately wanting to take it back, because the air in the room suddenly changes. Sero smirks, Kaminari guffaws, and a devilish grin exponentially grows on Mina’s face.

“Awww, it hasn’t even been ten seconds since you got here and you’re already looking for your mans!” Mina winks at you, “He’s just in the restroom.”

“Bro, it’s about goddamn time Bakugou finally got a girlfriend,” Sero adds.

The girl nods enthusiastically in agreement, “It’s been a long time coming, indeed. Do you have any idea how long he’s been pining for you?”

Negative thirteen days, you think to yourself. But you settle for a hesitant shake of your head.

“Dudes—” Kirishima tries to interject, although his voice is drowned out in the chatter and the marginally too-loud pop music playing in the background.

Sero snorts, “She probably doesn’t, knowing Bakugou. Though—” a look of pure mischief takes over the tape hero’s face as he turns to face you, “—wouldn’t you want to know?”

“I, uh—”

“Remember the first time Bakugou got a text message from her when we were out getting drinks for Ei’s birthday two years ago?” Mina asks the guys, although the question seems more rhetorical than not. “He choked on his beer so hard I was surprised he didn’t cough his freaking lungs out.”

“Mina—” Kirishima tries again.

Sero barks out a laugh at the memory, “That’s nothing compared to when he got so red in the face when I first insinuated he might have a crush that one time he helped me move into my current place. The big guy didn’t even think twice about hurling a box of clothes at me.”

“Sero—”

“Please!” Kaminari finally pipes in, before gesturing the group to get close with a cheesy, ‘come-wither’ gesture. From the corner of your eye, you see Kirishima mouthing something to the blonde but you don’t quite catch it, eyes drifting back to the latter, more curious than you’d like to admit, even if you’re 99% sure they’re making all of this up to humor you.

The electric hero smirks to himself before prolonging the suspenseful air. “Don’t tell him this, but I sneaked into his bedroom during that sleepover we forced him to host during Thanksgiving last year, supposedly to play a harmless prank on him. And get this—I heard him mumble your name in his sleep.”

“Guys!”

Startled, everyone looks at Kirishima, who’s doing the ‘slicing his neck with his hand’ gesture before sheepishly bringing it to rub at his nape when he feels the group’s attention on him. You scan their faces one by one, not knowing how to react yourself, and you notice what you think is realization dawn on everyone’s faces.

Well, everyone except Kaminari.

You look at the guy who’s apparently been looking at you this entire time, and your reaction to his made-up, albeit intriguing story must be priceless because he puffs up with pride before blurting out: “And it sounded like a moan, too!”

Before you can even choke at your spit in response, you see Sero’s long arm appear behind the blonde a split second before he smacks him on the back of the head.

“Hey!” Kaminari cries out, clutching his head in pain, and you can only stare at the situation in front of you, bug-eyed. “What was that for?!”

“That’s for not knowing when to shut up,” Sero hisses, before shifting to face you, a blinding smile now having replaced the chastising look that was on his face just a brief moment ago. “Now, where were we?”

“Aren’t you shitheads going to order?”

You jump at the gruff voice on your left, and you look up to see Bakugou, decked out in his usual black tee and joggers, frowning at you before his eyes dart to study his friends. Wordlessly, he slides into the booth beside you, and you automatically scoot over to make room for him. Suddenly it makes sense to you why his friends designated this entire side to only the two of you—you sometimes forget that their grumpy friend is abnormally huge—a fact that you get reminded of as he brings his arm around to rest on top of the back of your seat, his wingspan covering almost the entire length of it.

It takes a few seconds for everyone to gather their bearings and faithfully decide that no, he probably didn’t hear all of that—he couldn’t, if they wanted to keep their heads attached to the rest of their bodies—but when they do, they all scramble for the menus and act too innocently like they weren’t just making ridiculous shit up behind Bakugou’s back.

You give the man a hesitant smile yourself when he peers at you, before simply passing you the menu Kirishima handed over your direction.

“Hurry up and choose,” he huffs, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “We ain’t got all day.”

Since your boss arrived at your table, the squad hasn’t said a single thing about Bakugou from the past, particularly stories involving you, which further supports your robust theory that they were just trying to embarrass the guy in front of his alleged girlfriend.

No one brings up what has been said, too, and you take that as your cue to follow suit and keep your mouth shut.

Instead, and to your chagrin, they’ve resorted to buzzing around you, asking all sorts of questions about your life like how long you’ve been working at Bakugou and Kirishima’s agency, what kind of work you do, what you like to do for fun, how many siblings you have, and so on. But they’ve especially enjoyed asking you about Bakugou and your budding relationship, dropping a teasing remark or joke every now and then.

Every now and then as in every other sentence.

You’ve been trying to play it off cooly, lying out of your ass while seeming as natural as you can, but Bakugou isn’t taking it as well as you.

Apparently, and you know now, that the man detests being teased—it’s almost comical how red he gets at the slightest taunt, and you failing to repress a chuckle at the sight nearly grants you a shove from the hotheaded blonde. You look at the sole other girl for help, but Mina only grins at you while wiggling her eyebrows playfully as she sits back to witness the exchange.

But aside from all that, you find yourself quickly bringing down your guard and joining in on the conversation every once in a while, eventually coming to the realization that you’re actually having fun.

It doesn’t take a genius to recognize that Bakugou’s friends are great people, and seeing the man in a different environment than the one you usually find him in is interesting, to say the least.

In the midst of great conversation and in the blink of an eye, dinner is served and devoured, and before you know it, it’s 9 PM and everyone except Bakugou and you are around two to three drinks in.

“Come on, man!” Kaminari thrusts a glass of whiskey in Bakugou’s direction. “Let loose a little!”

The man in question merely lets out a ‘Tch’ before swatting the hero’s hand away.

“Don’t worry about him, bestie,” Mina calls out to you reassuringly, noticing you’ve been watching the two as you sipped on your own iced tea. “He just gets cranky when he’s not in bed by 9 PM sharp.”

“How ‘bout you, bro?” Kirishima asks you, this time a glass of gin and tonic in hand. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

You muster the most polite and grateful smile you can. “No thanks, Kirishima-san. I kind of have plans early tomorrow morning.”

Yeah, right, you think to yourself. You just don’t want to risk making a fool of yourself in front of your two bosses and their closest friends.

“Ooooh, is that why Bakugou isn’t drinking as well?” Mina chirps excitedly, “Are you guys doing something tomorrow?”

“Uh, no,” you say, hesitant and irrationally guilty, which swells when Mina’s face drops in palpable disappointment. You scramble to pull out a palatable lie from your ass, “I’m going out of town to meet a good old friend of mine who just got back from the States.”

A chorus of oohs and aahs erupt from the table at your answer; luckily, they don’t press for more details, which you’re grateful for, because you’re running out of lies for the evening.

You feel Bakugou eyeing you at the side, as if trying to figure out if what you just said is true when Sero suddenly speaks up, pointing to the far end of the restaurant.

“Hey, they have a photo booth! Whaddya say we give it a go?”

Everyone cheers in agreement and you find yourself getting ushered into the said photo booth. Kaminari, Kirishima, and Mina plant themselves on the front while you get smushed between Bakugou and Sero at the back. You try not to let the close proximity with your boss get to you as Mina starts handing out the props, which you readily accept with a thanks. You look down at the ‘I’m awesome’ signage and rainbow-colored wig you’re holding, weighing your options, before ultimately deciding to make the sacrifice and give Bakugou the former. His crimson eyes trail to you when you tap his shoulder lightly, and down to the sign when you make the gesture of offering it towards him. He wordlessly takes it off your hands, and you can’t help but snort at how out of place he looks with it. He tosses you a glare, although it seems harmless enough.

“Ready?” Mina shouts, and the rest of you say your affirmation. You go through the motions, everyone changing up their poses and swapping props shot after shot, and you find yourself laughing along with the group as the ruckus unfolds around you. After the last click of the camera, you finally move to return the paraphernalia to the front with Bakugou shadowing you, and follow the rest as they hurriedly pile out of the small space when the sliding door suddenly slams shut.

“What the—” you reach for the indented groove and pull it open, but the door refuses to budge.

“Hey,” Bakugou’s booming voice ricochets within the small space, making you jump. “Quit fucking around, you guys.”

A chorus of laughter erupts from the outside, and only then does it dawn on you that you didn’t get locked in because of some stupid gust of wind.

Kaminari, who’s probably the one holding the door shut sounds positively evil when he pipes up with: “You’re not getting out of there until you do a round with just the two of you.”

“Yeah!” Mina adds excitedly. “And y’all better do those cute poses, you hear me? We’re not going home unless you do the classic kiss on the cheek!”

“Just the cheek?” Sero asks, “You should just go all out, Bakugou!”

“This is their idea, bros. I’m not involved here,” you hear Kirishima say in the background.

Oh motherfucking god.

Refusing to accept what’s happening, you try to pry the door open again, but Kaminari’s not letting up by the slightest. You stare at the door, unable to look at Bakugou and what feels like five minutes pass before the man finally speaks up.

“…Let’s just fucking do it.”

You turn around to gape at him, “E-excuse me?”

He sighs, looking as defeated as you’ve ever seen him, a tinge of pink tinting his cheeks in what you think is irritation. “They’re not gonna back down unless we fucking do what they say. Trust me,” he says as he plops down on one of the seats in front of the camera, “I know them.”

Hesitantly, you take the seat to his left, the feeling of resignation blooming in your stomach at his words. “O-okay, then. We can just quickly take the pictures like normal and we’ll be on our way.”

“No—” he starts, and he looks like it pains him to argue with you, “—if we don’t do this as they instructed, the shitheads are just going to make us do it again and again until we do.”

You flush at the implications of his words, “But—what—surely they’ll be reprimanded for hogging the photo booth?”

Bakugou shakes his head, seeming like he’s already surrendered his soul to the antics of his friends. “They don’t normally abuse their power as heroes, but they will for stupid shit like this.”

You can only blink at him, at a loss for words. If you think about it, it’s unnerving how calm and level-headed he’s being right now when you’re getting close to having a major freakout yourself.

“Well?” The man has the audacity to ask.

You shift awkwardly in your seat, choosing to look at the monitor in front of you instead of the pro-hero who you now realize is way too dangerously close for your comfort. “Okay, so the least number of shots we can go for is four.”

Bakugou grunts in what you think is approval.

You continue, “We can do one where we just sit and smile, another where we form a small heart with our hands to appease Mina, and—fuck, two more…”

You expected you’d be the one to do the agonizing task of directing your poses, so you’re surprised when Bakugou chimes in.

“That’s not enough for bug-eyes,” he says as a matter-of-factly, and you find yourself gulping in nervousness despite yourself. “We’ll have to get closer…”

Closer than this?

Bakugou seems like he’s debating something in his head before he gives you a firm nod. “The third one we can place your head on my fucking shoulder or something, and for the last—” he shakes his head in defeat, “just go and fucking kiss me on the cheek.”

“What?”

He shoots you an appalled look as if you jolting away from him at the mere suggestion is a criminal offense committed against him. “Don’t sound so fucking disgusted, idiot.”

You’re not about to tell him you’re the farthest from being disgusted and rather veering dangerously close to flustered. Instead, you croak: “Are you sure about this?”

Bakugou scoffs, “Does it look like we have a choice?” He pauses, before shaking his head rather adamantly, “It’s not like I want to do this…”

You frown, itching to argue that you, in fact, have a choice, but the man is so evidently resigned that any rebuttal dies down in your throat. He does know his friends better than you do. Obviously. You can’t accurately gauge how far they’re willing to go for you just to take these photos with the grump.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you mumble an ‘okay’ before standing to press the Start button.

And so you, once again, go through the motions.

Only this time you’re not laughing.

You can feel your smile straining as you pose for the first photo, and you’re guessing Bakugou is looking like he’s being forced to smile at gunpoint beside you.

Click.

At the tell-tale sound, you lift your left hand, forming half a heart, and bring it next to Bakugou’s right. Beside his, your hand is significantly smaller, and you’re staring at the shape you’ve formed together when the camera goes off again, catching you off guard.

Click.

You’re disoriented and barely registering the pace at which everything’s going when you feel a hand gently tug your head to the right, placing it firmly on top of a firm shoulder.

“Smile, you dumbass,” Bakugou says through gritted teeth. You obey.

Click.

You chance a glance at the man, whose eyes are downcast—staring at the floor. You hesitate, wary of the countdown, “…Can I?”

Bakugou merely closes his eyes in what you think is dreadful anticipation before opening them again, choosing to look straight into the camera instead of meeting your gaze. “Just do it.”

You’re not about to waste any more time and risk missing the timing and having to do this all over again, so you do.

It takes everything in you not to cringe the second your lips touch Bakugou��s cheek, suddenly becoming very aware of how chapped they are. But the thought is almost instantly replaced by the realization of how deceivingly soft his skin is, and you have to fight yourself from jerking away at the ridiculous observation.

The seconds go by so agonizingly slow, and as you wait for the shutter to go off, you notice how tense Bakugou is, whose eyes are now closed again. It occurs to you belatedly how weird it would come out in the photos if you had your eyes wide open this close to the guy, so you immediately slam them shut.

You do it just in time before you hear the all-too-familiar click, at the sound of which you promptly pull away and stand up.

“Great,” you chirp, too cheerily.

“Good,” he grunts at the same time as you.

You look at each other in surprise, and you can’t help the chuckle that bubbles out of you. The corners of Bakugou’s mouth twitch ever so minutely, and you could’ve sworn a smile is fighting to take over his lips.

You’re about to say something remotely embarrassing—just anything to fill the air, really—like ‘thanks’ or worse, when the door suddenly opens, startling the both of you.

Mina pokes her head through the small opening, squealing as her eyes dart back and forth between the two of you. “Well, come on, you two! They turned out amazing!”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

It’s about half past 10 when you finally decide as a group that it’s time to wrap things up and go home. Of course, you had to first sit through roughly thirty minutes of Mina gushing on and on about how cute your photos turned out, with Kaminari and Sero at the side teasing Bakugou about how uncharacteristically shy he looks. As you expected, Bakugou turned almost as red as a beet at the teasing, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with the group before getting silenced with a sharp glare from the man.

Despite the plethora of dirty looks he’s tossed your way the entire evening, Bakugou still went out of his way to offer you a ride home as you walked with the group to the exit. You were about to politely decline when you realized everyone else was watching and that it would be weird for you to turn down your boyfriend’s proposal this late into the night.

And so you reluctantly accepted.

Which is how you find yourself waiting by the restaurant’s front door with Mina while Bakugou fetches his car. The other three guys already hit the dirt and carpooled home together, not one of them having bothered to drive here in the first place knowing they’d get drunk, or at the very least, tipsy.

The silence is comfortable as you breathe in the cool, evening breeze, while Mina sways side to side beside you.

“If you ask me, Bakugou didn’t drink tonight because he wanted to drive you home safely.”

You whip around to look at the pink-skinned hero, “Huh?”

Mina only shrugs in response, not bothering to repeat herself. Instead, she reaches for something in her purse, digs through it for a couple of seconds, before pulling out a strip of film that you instantly recognize is that of you and Bakugou from a while ago.

“Sorry, but I’m keeping the one of us as a group,” she sing-songs, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic, before thrusting the string of photos towards you. “But you get to keep the one of you and Bakugou.”

Not knowing what else to do, you gingerly accept it from the girl.

She grins at you, “Keep it safe for him, ‘kay?”

You refrain from telling her that he most definitely doesn’t care about whether or not you keep these photos safe, and instead give her an affirmative nod. Looking down at the object in your hands, you study the images one by one.

Your smile does look a bit strained in the first, and you’re not even smiling in the second, dumbly staring at the heart instead, but you’d say you appear decent enough in the third yet downright foolish in the last. It’s Bakugou that leaves you dumbfounded, though.

He’s not smiling in the first one—at least, not really—but he still managed to look handsome and exude a boyish charm that’s always been characteristic of him. To your surprise, he’s also not looking at the camera in the second; instead, his eyes are directed towards you, a solemn expression on his face. Against your will, you feel yourself warm at the thought of being the object of his attention without your knowledge. In stark contrast, he comes off stiff as hell in the third photo with your head on his shoulder, and in the last one…

His eyes are closed, eyebrows slightly furrowed. And if you didn’t know any better, you’d think his cheeks are tinged the lightest shade of pink.

Huh.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Mina pipes up out of nowhere, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You flush at her words. “Sorry?”

The girl merely smirks, a knowing expression etched across her beautiful features. “It’s written all over your face.”

Your free hand absentmindedly shoots up to feel your face, and it doesn’t elude you that you’re heating up.

To your relief, Mina doesn’t say anything else. She shrugs again, checking something on her phone before turning to face you once more, “Well, my Uber’s here! Tell Bakugou to drive safely and make sure you get home in one piece, okay, bestie?”

You smile at her concern and the adorable term of endearment she’s assigned to you, “I will.”

Mina seems to hesitate for a second before decidedly stepping closer and bringing you into a warm hug, which you return as best as you can.

You eventually pull away from each other after a moment, and she walks down the stairs and towards the dark maroon car that’s just arrived.

Leaving you with nothing but the space to mull over the ramifications of what has just been said.

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik @bunnysaursushii @beab19 @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @k0z3me @meeeepsworld @asura-rose @dragonscribble @moonz33 @citrustsuki @deadhands69 @lemuhr @rosemarygalaxy @iluv-ace @eyesforbkg @carpe000diem @shushbruv @matchat3a @ttalgi @bakunianadecorazon

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 they really do make a difference! have a lovely day ( ˘ ³˘)♥

[darnell-la]

how about dark-stepdad!logan and human!female-reader? Like logan just marry her mom so that he can easily get all nasty and pervy with her daughter👀

note: our most active author's birthday was yesterday, so we’ve been pretty busy. we apologize for the gap in our posting but trust me, we have a lot of posts coming. stay tuned!

———

“It’s my big day today, sweet pee,” Logan walked into y/n’s room without knocking. “Hmm?” Y/n asked as she covered herself up and placed her phone to the side.

“I said, it’s my big day today,” Logan repeated himself as he closed and locked her room door. “Room’s coming along. You like it here, princess?” He asked as he made his way over to the young lady.

“Yeah, but I’ll be moving out soon into my dorm. Did you know that mom-“ y/n went to say before Logan cut her off. “About that, sweetheart. Been meaning to talk to you,”

Logan sat down on y/n’s bed, facing her as she covered herself. She was in her laced gown since she had just woken up. She wraps her robe around her whenever she needs to leave the room.

“I can’t lie, but I’ve been a little sad lately,” Logan said, hand rubbing her cover as she grew confused. “Why?” She asked, hoping the wedding he and her mom had just had yesterday, wasn’t a mistake.

“I feel like it’s shitty of your old man, but I’ve just been thinking about me and your mom. Not just since last night, but even before,” the man said, making y/n look down. She liked Mister Howlett and didn’t want him to leave like the rest.

“I’ve just been distracted. Been distracted for years with your mother, but I’ve yet to act on it,” he said. “What’s been distracting you? Maybe my mom or I could help you,” Logan chuckled low as she softly shook his head.

“Oh, you can help me, bub,” Logan’s hand slowly traveled up her thigh, through her covers. “Just had to secure everything before I made a move,” the man said as he tugged on her covers.

“I-I’m not dressed appropriately,” y/n said. “Hey, we’re all family here, right? I don’t think it’ll be a big deal if your stepdad sees his girl,” y/n’s hands loosened, thinking to herself that it should be fine.

“There ya go. Been thinkin’ about you all night, you know? As soon as that ring was placed on my finger, I knew I had you,”

Y/n was confused about what her stepfather was saying as his hand rubbed her bare thigh. “You’ve grown up, bub. Dressed all pretty and rich. You like daddy's money?” He asked her, catching her off guard because she’d never called him dad.

“Y-Yes,” she stuttered as his hand came up to her face, allowing a finger to rub down her lip. “Yes, what, princess?” He asked. “Y-Yes, daddy,” she said, knowing that was what he wanted to hear.

“Good girl,” Logan sat up and climbed under the covers, pulling her body to lay fully so how could hover over his stepdaughter.

“M-Mister Howlett, what are you doing?” Y/n asked, hands on her chest since she had no idea where to put them. She was confused and shocked by his words and touches.

“Ssh, ssh, now. Don’t wanna wake your mom,” Logan said as his finger hooked around her panties. “Mister Howlett! I-I can’t do that,” y/n took one hand to grab his wrist, but he stopped her by pinning it next to her head.

“Nah uh! You lay still,” the man demanded as he continued pulling her panties down her legs until they were off. “Pretty little panties. Always wanted to go underwater shopping with you,” the man said as he took them to his nose.

Logan sniffed hard, taking in every last drop she had let soak into the laces overnight.

“Sweet,” Logan spoke before placing them in his sweatpants pocket. “Mister Howlett, please. I-I can’t do this to my mother,” y/n said, eyes already glossy from the size over her. He was intimidating.

“It’s okay, princess. She won’t know. I promise she won’t,” Logan said as he reached into his sweats to pull out his cock. When he did, y/n felt her heart skin.

She’s had sex before. Multiple times, but Logan was huge, and her mother’s husband. He was her stepdad.

“It’s okay, don’t run,” Logan gripped y/n’s waist to pull her back into him. “Just relax, and it’ll go smoothly. Needa trains you for future days,” Logan said. He wanted to do this more often.

“N-No, Mister Howlett! I-I can’t do this,” y/n went to roll off of the bed, but the man wrapped a hand around her neck, choking slightly so she wouldn’t be able to get out of his hold.

“You’re gonna lay right here and take it. You’re too grown to be worried about your mommy,” Logan pouted at the end as he moved in between her legs. “Logan stop!” Y/n yelled at the man, which surprised him.

The man disconnected his hand from her neck and slapped it over her mouth, preventing any other stupid action from coming from her.

“Gonna have you punish you for that,” Logan harshly pushed at y/n’s entrance, fighting his way through her until her walls fully covered him.

The young lady cried in his hand, feeling an instant pressure grow in her stomach. His size was forcing an orgasm to rip from her system.

“Squeezing me so fucking tight, bub,” Logan said with a rough tone, snapping him instantly to feel her cunt coat his cock. She was a leaking mess.

“L-Logan!” Y/n tried clawing at the man’s chest, but that didn’t phase him. “Fuck, baby- You keep doin’ that, and ima get angry,”

Y/n continued as the pleasure built throughout her body. She couldn’t help the moans that escaped.

For a second, she thought about stopping and letting him take over her body. She felt too good to keep her act up, but she didn’t want to be too easy. She was embarrassed by how good her stepfather made her feel.

So y/n fought harder. Scratching the man aggressively and surprisingly pulling blood. “Fuuuuck!” The man groaned loudly as he gripped y/n’s mouth.

Y/n wanted to keep scratching and make the man stop, but she froze once she saw something she’d never seen before. The man’s wounds healed right in front of her face. It’s like she never scratched him.

“Didn’t want you to find out his way, baby,” Logan spoke after a long pause of silence. The man leaned down, getting closer to her face as he thrusted in her slowly.

“I’m one of those mutants from back then, but that shouldn’t be a problem. All that means is that I can take care of you. I’m the only one that can, sweetheart,”

Logan buried his face into the young girl's neck as she tilted her head back, allowing him to suck. “Gonna treat my little girl so good,” Logan mumbled as y/n slightly wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him close to her body.

Y/n couldn’t think about her mother anymore. Not while Logan was all inches deep in her, twitching and ready to cum. She stayed his good girl for the morning and whenever else he needed her to be.

[cyber333angel]

LUMBERJACK!LOGAN X FARMERSDAUGHTER!READER

the two of you would have met for the first time at your fathers house, logan introducing himself as a the new supplier for wood at your families barn. your dad was too busy to go out and buy wood so on a stroll through town he heard about a newcomer being good at exactly that. he shook your hand and he smiled at you, the most charming smile you have ever seen and you introduced yourself shyly as well. you were a little nervous for some reason, probably because you don’t see a lot of people living in the countryside especially handsome ones like this. you go off doing something else and after a couple more minutes of conversation your father calls you back to him and logan, telling you that you needed to show him around and tell him where to drop off the wood when it’s time for deliveries. smiling through your anxiety, you go up to him, “this way mr. howlett, uh this is the-“ and your cut off suddenly, “you can call me logan. no need for the formality.” and you nod, him dropping the professionalism made you feel a little more at ease. “oh alright logan, this way here is the horses stables.” chuckling at your insinuation of his name he watches you as you walk in front of him, white dress swaying side to side as you go farther throughout the land. the whole get-up looks gorgeous on you from head to toe, your little cowgirl hat that covers your braided plaits, the snug dress that hugs your curves and the brown cowboy shows to complete. from this first meeting he knew it was gonna be hard to work for your father, already looking at his daughter this way.

after a few weeks go by your aquatinted with logan, not exactly friends but you had small conversations everytime he came by. watching him as he loaded logs of wood into this shed looking handsome as ever working out like that, your little schoolgirl crush getting bigger at every sneaking glance you took. and one day your father had some business to attend to out of town leaving you alone, telling you to handle all deliveries and duties around the barn without him. so you spend all day taking over the work your dad usually does when you get a call, your dad telling you that logan would be coming in with a late delivery and to help him unload his truck. you were gonna be alone with logan, in your house that was empty, your mind was filled with thoughts but you quickly shooed them away. which was best because logan arrived at the gates thirty minutes later pulling into the driveway with a wave and the same charming smile as always, stepping out of the car in some red flannel and jeans. “hey kid, I see your stepping up to your old man’s jobs now huh?” he says chuckling and you smile walking to the back of his trunk, “yeah for today, ill leave it to you guys to carry pounds of wood every friday afternoon. splinters are not really my forte.” and logan grins, for the past couple of weeks of seeing glances of you during deliveries you weren’t doing manual labor like your father, mostly tending to the garden and taking care of the animals and he thought that naturalistic side of you was absolutely adorable.

you guys make usual small talk while hauling the logs of wood to the shed, dusting your hands. you get an idea to invite logan in after all this hard work, it’s only fair after all the heavy lifting and you both could use something to rejuvenate you. “um if your not busy after this would you want something to drink or eat before you hit the road?” you say, your anxiety creeping up a bit after doing something your not used to like inviting a someone into your home, one you have a crush on at that. logan nods rolling up his sleeves, “yeah thanks I would love a drink.” he says and you lead the way to the house, setting down at the kitchen. “umm we have some soda, water or juice? food wise we have leftovers from dinner yesterday, we could also make a sandwich or have the snacks in the pantry.” none of those really suite logans interest which makes him ask, “you got any beer?” and you think, remembering your dad keeps beer at the lowest part of the fridge, you grab one for him and you, going back and sitting at the island. “thanks kid.” making you smile with a quiet “no problem.” you watch logan crack open the beer with his teeth looking like he did this a million times before and you twist open the bottle with your hand, opting out on breaking your teeth.

the silence between you was very awkward as you trail your eyes at everything around you except logan, suddenly hearing him speak. “you don’t drink?” you look at him confused, his eyes pointing to the beer bottle that only has a sip taken from it. “no not really, it’s more for my dad. the taste is kind bitter to me, but i couldn’t let you drink alone!” you say with a giggle making logan smile as he takes another long swig at his drink. “well thanks for sticking around anyway. i also gotta ask how is it living on a barn miles away from civilization?” logan says poking fun at you once again, “it’s not that far, and it’s nice. very peaceful..although it’s too peaceful sometimes, there’s not many people to talk too out here other than when we go to sell crops.” he thinks for a moment, looking lost in thought as he comes up with a question that almost make you cough out loud. “so I take it that you don’t talk to many boys then huh?”the snarky question making you stare at him in awe, stuttering out an answer. “I have before if you must know, it didn’t go anywhere because he moved away.. but you already know I don’t talk to a lot of people which is s’kind of embarrassing, not having a relationship or a first kiss.. you probably have experienced all that already.” you say the relationship and kiss part quietly, not knowing why you said that in the first place thinking that sip of beer earlier had you out of sorts already.

the news of you not having any relationship was quite surprising to logan, you are such a pretty girl he thought guys would be lining up to date you. “it’s not embarrassing so don’t worry your head about that and sure I’ve had my share of..relationships but it’s nothing special as people make it out to be. if you want I can even help you with your little problem.” he hears himself get carried away with that last sentence, the damage being undoable as you try to think of he really said that. the older man that works for your father, really just said that? “really? you would kiss me?” of course he would kiss you, it’s taking a lot from him to not pounce on you right then and there. and logan just nods, scooting his chair back so you have space to sit. “yeah, come sit. it’s just a kiss.” he says patting at his lap with the beer bottle still in his hand, you hesitate but climb onto the seat making yourself comfortable on his legs. placing one of your arms around his neck for balance, waiting for his next move. “calm down bub your hearts practically beating out your chest.” he says chuckling and you just softly smile, embarrassed he can hear how nervous you are. “ready? don’t be so nervous, y’re okay, doing just fine already baby.” he says that as if that could make you any calmer, sliding his hand on your waist to make you come closer. you’re breathing so hard you could hear the breaths, closing your eyes trying to copy what the girls do in the romance movies you used to watch, and you feel your lips touch his. soft with a faint smell of beer, a very gentle kiss with his rough hand holding the side of your jaw.

you think to yourself how much more you crave from him, not only wanting his lips but it’s too late. he pulls away from the kiss to see you, looking around in your eyes to see if he wasn’t the only one that enjoyed it a little more than he should have. “lemme have a look at ya, how was it bub? hmm, was it good?” you chew the inside of your mouth staring at him, your chest heaving up and down as you try to come up with a way to ask for more. “it was great..” you say dropping your head to his chest, “would you be mad if I wanted t’do it again?” you say quietly, waiting for a response only hoping he wants it as bad as you, and he does, he wants even more than what your thinking of. your jaw is picked up by his hands as logan rests it on your cheek, looking at you so softly. “kid i could would never be mad at you, especially about something like that c’mere.” he says smiling into the kiss, this time going in deeper, sucking on your lips as if he wanted to eat you. beneath you, you feel something hard rising against your heat, pushing through logans jeans and up into your dress. you rub your thighs together trying to relief yourself from the throbbing sensation in your cunt from all this kissing but it doesn’t work, all your commotion alerting logan. “what happened down here bub?” he says rubbing his hand up and down your thighs, getting needier by the minute ypu snap and take logans hand, spreading your legs open and holding it in between your legs. “I need you to touch me lo..” you whine, a newfound nickname you gave him, probably resulting from how needy you were. this was all you needed to say to set him off, the position you were sat in, the pleading eyes and that goddamn sentence just now. he lifts you up wrapping your legs around his waist as he basically ravishes at your lips, growling at you through the kiss walking out the kitchen. “where’s your room?” he says looking like he’s on a mission and your bust out in giggles pointing him up the stairs to your room. you get you your bedroom and logan places you on the bed, you watch him as he takes off his shirt, still kissing you and traveling down all over your body. sucking and biting at your lips he spreads your legs in front of him, grabbing your underwear from underneath your dress and sliding it down your legs making you shiver. “I have to stretch you out a bit alright bub? come sit here.” he says motioning to you for the spot in between his legs, doing as your told you make yourself comfortable, not ever having done this before you let logan guide the way. he rests his hand on your waist, sitting behind you kissing your neck as his other hand travels down your pussy, his rough fingers coated in your slick just from the slight touch. “you really needed my help huh needy girl..” he says whispering, taking two fingers and spreading apart your folds looking at how wet you were. he pushes two digits in and you wince, his thick fingers already feeling so good you can’t even imagine how it would feel when he actually fucks you.

logan keeps thrusts his fingers in and out your cunt as you squirm around in his lap, stimulation sending you over the edge especially with the sweet whispers logan says in your ear. “atta girl, your swallowing up my fingers good bub..” praising you as you whine in his lap grabbing at his neck behind you, “s’enough now logan.. gon-gonna cum!” you say with a sob, you could feel how deep his fingers were stretching you, you could feel his thumb circling around your clit and you could only take so much. “good girl cum on my fingers..” and you do just that, coating his two digits with your mess, leaving a white ring at the base of his fingers. he has you out of breath, your head resting on his chest as you come down from the intensity. logan keeps you close to him, swaying a little back and forth letting you collect yourself, planting kisses on your neck as he slowly removes your white dress. taking the straps off and unzipping it, “up.” he says, wanting you to lift your arms and you do tiredly, you get up from his lap and lay down on your bed staring at logan. you watch as he unbuckles his pants, a bulge prodding and stretching the fabric of his boxers. “we’re gonna take it slow alright, if we go too fast you’ll get hurt so let me take care of you baby..” he’s says to you but you can barely hear, focused on his dick that is now out of his boxers standing tall, wondering if you were too confident and if you can even take all of him. he moves both your legs to be spread out on sides of his body, positioning himself in front of your cunt. “you ready?” logan asks you and you nod, earning a disapproving head shake from logan. “words bub, c’mon.” he says again tapping at your cheek, “yes m’ready logan!” you say, a certain huffiness in your tone just waiting for him to put it in. he pushes the tip of his cock in, already feeling a huge difference from his just his fingers, grunting above you. “fuck baby..so fuckin tight for me..” you can only sob in response, scratching at his back trying to brace yourself for taking in all his length. “hngh it’s s’really big lo!” you say, your body rocking against the bed as he thrust into you, slow strokes into your wet cunt making you feel every inch. “taking me so good sweet girl, so fuckin good..” he says kissing at your neck, being ever so gentle with you as he plows himself into your pussy, your messy cunt being heard all over the room. you feel a tremble in your tummy, the same feeling you got when you were stuffed with logans fingers just a few moments before. grasping at his back you look up at him with needy eyes, the older man locks eyes with you and it’s like he can read your mind. reaching his hand down to your achey cunt and rubbing your clit, he has you quivering under him with your legs shaking. “yeah you gonna cum for me baby hm?”

nodding at him suddenly you let out a gasp, feeling logan press down on your stomach as he’s fully deep inside you, the print of his dick showing in the pudge of your tummy. it makes you whine even more from all the pressure, closing your quivering legs in on his waist from the stimulation and the intense pressure as he snickers above you, “feels good huh bubba..” you cry when he hits that deep spot in you, your hands rushing to his abdomen trying to make him slow down. “w-wait logan please! that’s too much!” and he just smiles down at you, “move your hands, look your already taking me so well..your okay baby c’mon.” he says as you take your arms away hesitantly, the tears in your eyes rolling off your cheek onto the bed. “good girl, see?” taking one of his hands and grabbing the both of yours placing it at the top of your head making it harder for you to squirm, pounding into you as you begin to climax. “m’cumming logan..!” you slur out, unconsciously squeezing around logans length, “fuck me too baby.. give it to me c’mon.” he says wincing, loud squelches echoing in the room as you both cum together, hearing him growl above you feel him filling your hole, grunting as he makes sure you take all of it. you lay there on the bed catching your breath as you come down from your high, logan comes into your view holding your cheek in his hand rubbing it, “did so for me good pretty girl, you wanna get cleaned up?” and you nod your head tiredly, “mm yes please but can you do it for me lo..” you say, eyes already shutting down on you making logan smile, “sure kid.” he says picking you up, walking to the bathroom with you in his arms wondering how the hell is he gonna show up for work with your dad next week.

[puck-luck]

smutception | jack hughes

warnings: EXTREMELY META, elevator sex, oral (m! and f! receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, spit kink, dom/sub tones, thigh riding, attempted phone sex, cum on the body, slight degradation, name calling, masturbation, handjob, squirting, tittyfucking, i don’t even know what else. this was a long one with a LOT of shit. pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader summary: inspired by a request from @captainlexaproluvr, which is far too long to paste here. here’s our summary instead: when jh accidentally picks up his gf’s kindle for a roadie instead of his own, he finds some surprising books downloaded. they give him a few ideas for what he’ll do when he gets home in a week… wc: 10,002

The bus rides to the airport are never fun, in Jack’s opinion. He loves his teammates, but they’re loud and annoying. He’s loud and annoying too, most of the time, but he started a really good book yesterday. He’s been thinking about reading it all day. Jack made sure to pack his Kindle in his bag, even though he had gotten distracted by your goodbye.

It started when he got back from Prague, after the Global Series. He had written off your excitement to see him as a one time thing, fueled by missing him and manifesting in an intense need for him to make it up to you– you had stopped the elevator from the garage of his apartment building and begged him to take you right there. He did, obviously, and the rush that went up his spine from how public it was led to a conversation about how Jack definitely wanted to do stuff like that again. 

He was right about one part: you jumping his bones after a roadie was a one-time-thing. The pattern changed– now, you have a habit of doing something different in bed before his roadies. It’s become somewhat of a superstition for Jack.

There was the short roadie in mid-October, when he’d gone down to Carolina and up to Ottawa for a few days. You had woken him up early that morning, kissing him and poking at him until he got fed up and pinned your wrists down. You made him late that morning, delaying the team bus for the airport, because you just had to roll your hips against his morning wood. Then, while you packed a little roadie snack for him, you just had to be naked. It’s not his fault he wanted to bend his pretty girlfriend over the counter and ruin her again.

When you joined him for the first game of his Canadian tour (Vancouver for the Hughes Bowl, then Calgary and Edmonton), Jack and Luke decided to fly with you from Jersey to Michigan to meet up with the parents ahead of time. Then, you all flew together from Michigan to Vancouver. That was normal.

What wasn’t normal was when you leaned over to Jack in the middle of the plane ride and whispered, “You know what might be fun?” with a squeeze to his clothed cock before disappearing towards the bathrooms. It took a few minutes for that one to click (and a picture of your bare tits that you sent Jack from the bathroom over the airplane WiFi), but he ended up fucking you in that tiny, cramped, closet-sized bathroom. It was thrilling.

Jack went to Florida after that– before he left, you rode his face on the living room couch while jacking him off until he came with the tip of his cock just past your lips.

He really missed the goodbyes for the first half of December, when the only away game he had was about an hour away on Long Island. It barely counted, but Jack whined about needing his good luck charm anyway, so you’d gotten down on your knees and sucked his cock all while grinding against a pillow between your legs, coming from just that. Jack was too distracted by the thought of you rutting against the pillow because you were drunk off of his cock to play well that night.

He’d liked it so much that he’d asked you to do it again before he left for Columbus and St. Louis and you’d eagerly complied. It wasn’t any less sexy the second time around.

Jack loves your goodbyes. He loves you, obviously, and would love you even if you weren���t giving him these goodbye gifts, but they’re just so special. Jack is addicted. 

He doesn’t know where you’re getting the ideas from– the position or act is never something that pops into his head. Maybe that’s why he likes it so much. Maybe he likes that you’re the one taking charge and expecting things from him, although he equally loves when he gets to do whatever he wants with you on a regular day. 

Now, he’s leaving for California. He has two games in Carolina first, but then he’ll be on the west coast for a while. He’ll be gone for Christmas and New Years, which is annoying. He knows that it’s just the way that things worked out scheduling-wise, but he likes getting to shower you with presents and watch you open them, and he likes to drink a lot of alcohol with you and kiss you at midnight to ring in the next year. 

You made up for it this morning, your goodbye causing him to forget about any gripe he might’ve had about missing you for so long. You appeared in the doorway as he was packing up the last of his bags, wearing this flouncy little white nightgown with tiny roses decorating it like polka dots. It was the picture of innocence, but your actions were anything but. That enough was to drive Jack crazy, but when you sat him down on the edge of the bed and straddled his thigh, it shattered any possibility of functional thought. You told him not to touch you, pouting about being left alone for so long on your own– and you proved to him that you can take care of yourself just fine. 

If he thought watching you grind against a pillow was bad, it was even worse to have you soiling his dress pants with your slick and your cum. All the while, he couldn’t touch you– it was torture. It was madness. It was the hottest thing Jack has ever seen. 

After you came all over his thigh, you helped Jack change out of his pants– that was your excuse to get your lips on his cock and prevent him from arriving to player check-in with a raging erection– and chose a new outfit for him to wear. You’d kissed his lips and patted his side, reminding him not to forget his Kindle because you knew how excited he was to finish his new book on the way to Cali. 

You left to get ready for the day and he had, on embarrassingly wobbly legs, wandered around the house to find his pocket-library. It wasn’t where he left it, but he ended up finding it on one of the bookcases in his living room, swiping it and tossing it into his backpack without another thought because he was, once again, running late. 

It’s a habit now. The boys have joked about buying him a better watch and Jack goes along with it, but he knows that he’ll be late no matter how good his watch is or how early he sets it. As long as you keep saying goodbye to him like this, he’s going to be a poor teammate– he’d rather experience this than be on time, any day of the week.

Your moans from this morning are echoing in his mind, so Jack pops his headphones in and presses shuffle on the playlist he was already listening to. He digs his Kindle out of his book to offer himself another distraction. It’s going to take a lot of overstimulation to prevent another boner, which means he’s going to read his book, the one he’s been so excited about. If he finishes it, he’ll get to update his Good Reads and recommend it to Quinn. 

He traces the lines of the electronic before turning it on, touching the charging port and the power button. Jack smiles. The Kindle had been a gift from you on his birthday. The week after, he had bought you the exact same one. You had matching Kindles and you often shared books like your own little book club. He’s read romances because of you and you’ve read biographies of athletes because of him. It’s fun for him. This is special to him because he’s never done something like this with any of his other girlfriends. It gives him hope that you guys will stay together as long as possible. 

Jack finally turns the Kindle on, stopping short at the sight of the photo of the home screen. This isn’t his Kindle. He accidentally swiped yours.

It’s too late to turn the bus back and with him being on the move, it would just be too much hassle to ask you to mail his Kindle to the hotel. 

Jack chuckles to himself a little bit, digging his phone out of his pocket. He types out a text to you: Accidentally took your Kindle instead of mine :(

It isn’t long until the text bubble signaling your incoming reply appears. Sorry :( just download your book onto my account <3 I’ll read my books on yours in the meantime. 

Then, a second text: At work so can’t reply again til later :( have a good trip J ily!!!! Talk to you soon!!!

Jack replies I love you too and puts his phone away. He clicks through your Kindle, which automatically opened to the app that houses your library of books. He scrolls through, recognizing some of the titles and not recognizing the others. While sliding his finger along the screen, he accidentally fumbles the Kindle as the bus goes over a bump. When he gets a hold on the device again, he sees that his finger tapped one of your books and it opened. 

Jack goes to exit out, ready to download the book he’d been waiting for, and then he spots a familiar name in the first line.

He reads the sentence like a habit– that’s what you do when you see your name somewhere, right? 

The first page is just half of a page. It’s exposition and it’s looking like this book is somewhat of a romance, but he can’t really tell all that much.

“Every year, you go to the lake house with Jack.”

Like any good first line, it leaves Jack intrigued. Who is Jack? Where’s this lake house? How long have you been going? You say every year, but how many years is that?

Jack immediately thinks of his own lake house. He misses Michigan. His imagination solves one of his questions: the lake house in this story, in his mind, is in Michigan. It’s on the same lake as his and it looks the exact same. ‘Every year’ is vague enough that Jack can accept it. It’s meant to be vague. Only one question remains: who is this Jack guy? 

It’s fun to have a character that shares a name with you, so Jack reads on. He’s determined to figure out who this guy is. 

“The past few trips, it’s been a special occasion. You get your mid-summer break from work and you get to spend time with your boyfriend.”

So Jack is the boyfriend of the main character. Jack laughs to himself again– maybe you downloaded this book so that you could think about your boyfriend while you read it. He’s tempted to text you again with a picture of the page, but since you’re at work, you won’t reply for a while. If he’s going to rib you for reading a book about a guy with the same name as him, he wants you to be able to reply immediately. 

“You’ll sit on the patio and watch him fool around with his brothers. You know them both well after dating Jack for so long, but you’re closer with Luke. After all, he rented out the second bedroom in your and Jack’s New Jersey apartment this entire past year. You know Luke better than you ever thought you would because of that.”

Jack is starting to purse his lips as he reads. He has brothers. One of them is named Luke. He lives in New Jersey with his girlfriend and Luke lived with them last year. He’s since moved out, but the coincidence is still there. It’s still…

Weird.

He reads on anyway.

“Jack loves your relationship with his brothers–”

True. 

“but what he doesn’t love is when all of your skin is on display all day for everyone to see. Your little bikinis drive him insane– because everything he wants is right there, but he can’t have it.”

Jack is a little confused about the turn this is taking. This is only the second page of the book– he told himself he wouldn’t read past the first one, but this is just too intriguing– and it’s already talking about sex? The characters are in a long term relationship, so it’s not like this is a one-night-stand, inciting-incident sort of thing. Why would the book start here?

Also– the romances he’s read because of you are a lot more tame than this. Already, he’s starting to squint at the Kindle in disbelief. Is this the kind of shit that you read on your own? He’s ribbed you in the past for not updating your Good Reads enough and now he gets it. Maybe you don’t want the whole world (all of your followers, including your boyfriend and his older brother) to know that you’re reading porn.

“All of his frustration at not being able to do anything about your skimpy clothing comes to a head one day when the Hughes house–”

Jack stops in his tracks. The other coincidences were fine. Jack is a common name. Luke is a common name. Everyone has brothers. Lots of people have lake houses. New Jersey is just one out of fifty states in the U.S.– almost ten million people live there, partially because of its proximity to New York City. 

But all of it together– Jack and Luke Hughes, living together in New Jersey, with another, older brother and a lake house– Jack is convinced. This book was written about him.

He knows fanfiction exists. He’s never interacted with it before, but he has known about fanfiction since the early 2010s. There were a couple of girls in his classes in middle school that loved One Direction and they would talk about fanfiction all the time. It was just amongst themselves, but Jack sat right next to them, so he couldn’t really help but eavesdrop.

Jack knows that he went viral after the draft, considering the influx of people that have followed him in the years since. A lot of those followers, and he’s not bragging, have been women. He just didn’t expect to ever find fanfiction about himself. He thought that was a thing for actors and musicians, not athletes… but the evidence is right in his hands.

Another thing clicks. You, his girlfriend, were reading fanfiction about him. You have it downloaded to your Kindle. Why would you do that if you’ve got the real thing? You could just call his name and he’d be there. Jack isn’t exactly coy about wanting to get it on with you. You’re the one who’s batting him away more often than him brushing you off. He’s always had a higher sex drive than you and been more overt about it–

…until recently.

Jack looks up from the Kindle and he starts to grin. He catches himself and brings his hand to his mouth, tracing the line of his bottom row of teeth with the tip of his fingernail. 

His initial surprise, which manifested in that weird smile and his breath of laughter, turns into a brief flash of judgment.

It’s weird that his girlfriend is reading fanfiction about him. He’s right there. Does he not satisfy you enough? Are you unhappy with how he acts in bed? You’ve never complained– if you don’t like something, you should talk to him. Right?

Jack finds himself frowning and clicking through the Kindle again. He’s searching for something in particular– the book that compiles all of your highlights and notes. He knows how you are– you’re a highlighter. You have a lot of opinions and thoughts about the things you read and you’re all about writing them down. You do it so you don’t forget what to say when you talk about your books with Jack later. There’s no way that you didn’t have anything to say about the porn about your boyfriend.

He finds the highlights and notes easily. He starts to flick through it, scanning the page for comments from books that he doesn’t recognize and doesn’t find anything until the tenth page of notes. 

He catches the first comment in the same way that he discovered your smut-stash in the first place. He sees his name.

“Jack moves like he’s drunk on the feeling of you, soft noises falling from his lips like he’s trying not to be too loud. You can almost feel the elevator shaking with his movements.”

Jack’s lips part in surprise. He taps the highlight, looking for more information. He’s looking for your comment– and all he gets is an “oh.”

It’s frustratingly vague. “Oh”? What does that even mean?

Jack releases a scoff and clicks along. He reads the sentence again, this time focusing on a familiar detail. Jack was fucking his girlfriend in an elevator. You jumped his bones in the elevator a few weeks ago. Jack’s not sure that’s a coincidence– after all, none of the details in the first story were coincidental.

He checks when you left that comment– and he was right. You left the comment while he was in Prague.

Jack feels a bit like a detective as he repeats the process, searching for more highlights and comments. He finds several interesting ones:

“Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can cut down on Jack’s time to get ready by making his breakfast for him, and he’ll reward you by bending you over the counter. He can never deny you another round when he sees himself dripping out of you so beautifully” was also highlighted while he was in Prague.

“You make your way into the bathroom and press your back against the door, feeling lightheaded at the rush– in just a few minutes, you’re going to have your boyfriend’s cock inside of you, but thousands of feet off the air. The thought of it, how dirty it is to have sex in such a public yet confined space, makes you whimper” while he was in Carolina and Ottawa.

“‘Wanna sit on this pretty face,’ you tell him. ‘While I gag on your cock’” while he was in Edmonton. 

The next one is– dirtier. Jack feels warm when he reads it. You highlighted it while he was gone in Florida and it’s clearly the inspiration for the goodbye you gave him before he went to Long Island that one night, the night when you nearly gave him a heart attack by coming on the pillow between your legs.

The other part that you highlighted… didn’t happen… but Jack has a feeling that you want to try it, given the comment you left on the highlighted page.

“Jack tilts your head up and you open your mouth, showing him that you swallowed every drop that he awarded you. Jack spits a thick wad onto your tongue again, the weight of it heavy on your muscle although, in reality, his saliva would weight next to nothing.”

Your comment says: “...& he spits on the ice all the time but never in MY mouth??”

He would if you asked. But that’s not the end of the quote– his favorite part is yet to come.

“The heat in his eyes and the taste of him in your throat pushes you to your peak, your hips erratic against the pillow. Your legs are shaking, trembling as you tip over the edge and release over the object between your legs.”

Yeah, he likes that one.

The final comment that Jack reads is from his most recent roadie in Ohio and Missouri. It’s what happened this morning. 

“‘Nah, I don’t think I will,’ Jack replies. ‘How about you get yourself off on my thigh and I’ll consider rewarding you for being so pretty and self-sufficient?’... ‘Let me see how pretty you are when you make yourself come, thinking of me.’ Your hips are rocking along the strong muscle of his thigh as he kisses you again.”

“Dirty girl,” Jack murmurs aloud, not realizing that he said such a thing audibly. Luckily, Nico is the only one close enough to hear him, and he always sleeps like a rock when they’re driving to the airport, or on the plane, or driving to the hotel from the airport. It’s the perfect combination.

So you’ve been reading smut while Jack is away. You’ve been getting ideas from fanfiction about how to fuck him.

Jack should be upset and uncomfortable because you’re reading about a fake version of him, but really, he’s just turned on. You think about him. If it was some other guy, maybe he’d be more upset… but no. You’re reading fanfiction about him and recreating the parts you like with him. Even in your little romance books, you want to read about him.

He’s elated, because, well… two can play at that game.

Jack was excited to read his book, but reading your books seems like a much better time and a much better way to entertain himself on this roadie.

He spends the next two weeks perusing your Kindle library for more books about him. They’re all short and most of them are written in second person, although some are in first and third person. Most commonly, though, it’s in second person as some sort of “Reader-puts-herself-in-Main-Character’s-shoes” sort of thing. Jack doesn’t like the books where the author writes “Y/N.” He’s not quite sure what it stands for, so he just tries to avoid it. 

Is it weird that he’s reading fanfiction about himself? Maybe, but he tries not to think about it too long. He’s doing it for you, for his girlfriend, because he wants to show you exactly what he found. Dirty, dirty girl.

About halfway through the roadie, he tries to hint that he knows about your secret. You’re on the phone and he tries to start a little phone sex action based on something he read the other day, when Merc left the hotel room and Jack was left alone. He’s alone again now. He doesn’t know where Dawson is, so he isn’t very subtle with his hinting.

He just parrots his favorite sentence back to you. 

“So, baby,” Jack says, grinning to himself. “‘Why don’t you touch your pretty little clit for me?’”

It doesn’t work. You just start laughing. “Jesus, J. That came out of nowhere.”

Jack pouts to himself. Maybe you haven’t read that one yet. He figured you would recognize the words.

He gives up on the reveal, deciding to save it for when he’s home in just another week. He gets to tell you how much he misses you and how much he wishes he could see you. He wishes you a belated Merry Christmas and he gets to spend midnight on the phone with you– your time, not his. He blows a kiss through the phone… and that’s that.

He’s back to being alone with your little stories. Jack’s able to restrain himself for the most part, but he is willing to admit that they pique his interest... and his cock sometimes grows to reflect just how interested he is.

He returns to the first story on the bus ride back from the airport to Jersey. It’s symmetrical that way and he kind of likes the idea of finishing his journey with your Kindle and your fanfictions where it originally began. It’s a full circle moment.

The story is a few thousand words, just about ten pages on the device. There are multiple rounds written into it– definitely a score, because in real life, multiple rounds is a luxury for Jack. He gets sleepy after the first and needs a break. Fictional Jack might be setting some unrealistic standards compared to real Jack, but at least real Jack can actually fuck you. All fictional Jack can do is… allude to it. He never actually gets to do it.

Jack’s favorite part of the story comes toward the end. You’ve been wearing your bikinis all summer, teasing Jack with the knowledge of what’s beneath the scrap of fabric. He’s seen your tits plenty of times before, but it always gives him a thrill to see them. One of his favorite things is getting to come all over them and mark them as his, which fictional Jack gets to do.

“You kneel below him, looking up at him with wide and bleary eyes. Jack smirks at you, his hand leisurely stroking his cock. His tip is an angry red, bleeding precum from his slit, but he still doesn’t increase his pace.

‘Ask me for it,’ Jack says, tilting his head to the side. When you open your mouth, Jack taps the head of his cock against your bottom lip, distracting you. Your tongue darts out to lick the salty precum away, but Jack evades you, laughing softly. ‘Such a slut. Well– for me, right? You want to walk around with your tits out all the time, but you’re so easy for my cock. You’re all mine, aren’t you?’

‘Jack, please,’ you pout. ‘I want your cum. Come on my tits.’

Jack slows his hand. Then, he stops stroking himself altogether.

‘What–’ you question involuntarily, brows furrowing and frown deepening. You push your chest out, trying to make the canvas more appealing for Jack. Why did he stop?

‘Give me your hand,’ Jack instructs, holding his hand out with his palm up so that you can take it. You give him your hand, waiting for him to help you up like a gentleman. That’s how this feels, like the momentum of the moment has completely halted. You’re so confused that you’d accept it if Jack just… denied you completely.

Instead, he brings your hand to his cock. He encourages you to curl your fingers around the length, watching your eyes as it slowly dawns on you. You resume his pace, lacking confidence at first and then realizing that this is better.

‘Do it yourself,’ Jack says. ‘You want me to mark you up?’ He bucks his hips forward once, just to throw off your rhythm. ‘Make me.’

You’re whimpering a little bit, puffing out your chest again and shuffling closer on your knees. Your body is practically brushing his from mere proximity. Your other hand comes to Jack’s thigh, tracing his light hair gently in comparison to the increasingly rapid strokes to his length.

Jack gathers your hair in his hand like he does when he fucks your mouth. As if on instinct, you open your mouth. Jack’s smirk reappears. ‘Easy,’ he reminds you again, taking his other hand and cradling your chin. He tilts your head back and spits, aiming at your lips. The difference is, he’s standing and you’re kneeling, so the spit doesn’t find its mark. Instead, it lands on your face. You blink in surprise and Jack uses his thumb to corral the saliva towards your mouth. There’s nothing really left by the time his thumb finds your lips, but you latch on like his digit is a flowing faucet in the middle of Death Valley.”

It turns out, spit is a thing for Jack too. He’s always liked to come on your body, but he didn’t even consider the possibility of a different liquid. Coming on you is a possession thing, and spitting is similar… it’s demeaning, showing that you’re under his control, but Jack likes it because you’d trust him enough to take it. It’s gross, but you’d still let him spit on you and into your mouth.

Well, in theory. He’ll see if you’re actually willing to do such a thing tonight.

Like he said, two can play at that game.

Jack barely bids adieu to his teammates. He speeds home, probably faster than he should knowing how the NJPD can be. He has no plan for if he gets pulled over. Luckily, he doesn’t, and he makes it home in record time. 

You’re asleep in bed. It’s early in the morning, but only about an hour before your alarm goes off for work. Timing might be the one thing that really annoys Jack about his job– the game wasn’t finished in California until almost one in the morning in New Jersey, then he had to take the bus to the airport, fly home, take the bus back to Prudential Center, and drive home. It took more time than he wanted it to and he feels bad waking you up, so Jack just climbs into bed and wraps his arms around your sleeping figure. You must’ve felt bad about waking him, because when he blinks his eyes open, you’ve already left for work.

Jack doesn’t find a good time to reveal your secret in the days after his return. You both do your normal routine. Jack returned on Tuesday. His next away trip isn’t until Friday, and once again, it’s a one-night, tiny roadie. He’s only going 30 minutes up the road to MSG. You’re coming with him. By all accounts, he shouldn’t even count it as a roadie.

Jack is desperate to show you that he knows. He also wants you to know that he’s okay with it– that he likes that you read about him and imagine him while he’s gone. He might be eager and rushing things, but this is his first chance to catch you off guard and he’s going to take it. He wants to establish this new routine early– now.

He sits on the couch, his hockey bag already packed and by the door. It’s a night game, so you’ll have time to get ready after work. Jack doesn’t have time. He’s hoping to intercept you as you walk through the apartment door, getting his kicks before he ends up being too late to the arena. Because it’s so close, he gets to drive himself to the arena. He can speed again, but New York City is so fickle with traffic that he knows he’ll run into trouble if you don’t get home, like, imminently. 

Big word, yes, but he’s been reading a lot lately. He was always better in school than Quinn and Luke, too. Not a brag– just a fact.

He also seems to have a future (ha, get it?) in predicting the future, because you arrive home just a few minutes later. You set your stuff down on the dining room table before joining Jack on the couch and greeting him with a little kiss.

“Thought you’d be gone by now,” you say, pressing another kiss to his lips and curling into his side. 

Jack wraps his arm around your waist and grins at you, crooked and shit-eating. “Couldn’t leave without getting my good luck charm first, eh?”

You laugh at him, pressing your hand against his chest, right over his heart. “It’s barely a roadie. You’re literally coming back here tonight and I’m going to the game.”

“You know how hockey players are with their superstitions,” Jack pouts, poking your side until you let out a sarcastic and dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes while you climb onto his lap like you don’t love sitting there. 

“I know how my hockey player is with his superstitions,” you reply, placing your palms on Jack’s jaw and squishing his cheeks together a little bit. 

Jack wiggles beneath you, still grinning and jostling you on his lap in the process. He’s already half-hard from his excitement about surprising you with your own fantasy. 

“But,” you continue. Your hands fall to his chest again. “I don’t have any ideas for you, sweetheart.”

“That’s okay,” Jack says. “I have plenty.”

You laugh, tossing your head back. “Of course you do.”

“Well, I was reading this book on my roadie,” Jack starts.

“Oh, yeah, we never talked about that. Was it good? I know you were really excited to read about–”

“Not that one,” Jack interrupts. “I didn’t end up reading that. I’ll probably read it when we go to Toronto next week.”

A look of confusion passes over your face. “Then what did you read?” You question.

Jack just smiles, waiting for it to click in your head. There’s only so much that he’d be able to read on your Kindle. You’d read one of your normal books last night and clearly hadn’t noticed anything different on the device, so you can’t immediately think of a book that Jack would read.

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious. “What did you read?” You repeat, voice cautious.

Jack wiggles his eyebrows, hands inching down to cover your behind. He rolls his hips up against your core. He’s still smiling.

Your lips part, mouthing half of an interrogative word to yourself while you think. You’re fiddling with Jack’s t-shirt, evaluating him.

Jack brings a hand up to your neck, cupping the back and pulling you in for a kiss. You come easily, kissing Jack’s lips. Your movements are slightly stilted, still thinking about Jack’s literary options.

His hand moves from the back of your neck to your jaw. He lets his thumb and his forefinger smush your cheeks. 

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Wait– open your mouth again, baby?” Jack prompts, feigning concern. 

You automatically obey him, still looking confused. “What?” You try to ask with an open mouth, the word coming out garbled. 

Jack grins, subtly gathering a wad of saliva in his mouth while he looks into your mouth. There was nothing there, he just needed an excuse to get your mouth open. This is better than outright saying it. From your comments, he knows that you’re at least interested. If you hate it, you’ll talk about it later. He wants to see the realization on your face. It’s a big risk, knowing that you could cringe and flinch and react negatively, but Jack has a feeling you won’t.

He grips your cheeks, keeping your mouth open as wide as you’ll allow. Jack misses the flash of alarm and understanding in your eyes because he’s busy aiming at your mouth. Jack spits his saliva onto your tongue and releases his grip on your cheeks. Your mouth clamps shut and you stare at him, eyes wide and thoroughly shocked.

Jack quirks an eyebrow at you, satisfied by your frozen figure atop his lap. He checks the clock over your shoulder, seeing that he’s really running out of time. He was supposed to leave about five minutes ago. 

An idea pops into Jack’s head. He could leave you here, processing things, and go play his game. Then, he can come back later and pick up where he left off. 

Deciding to do that, Jack plops a chaste kiss on your lips before he stands, still cradling you with your knees squeezing his hips, but legs not quite wrapped around his middle. He lays you on the couch and kisses you again before returning to his full height. He thumbs over your bottom lip as if he’s wiping away his kiss. 

“Bye, baby,” Jack bids you, then gathers his stuff and leaves the apartment.

You don’t say anything or move an inch until after he’s gone.

Jack plays a great game. He knows you’re in the wag suite and he knows that he makes it onto the jumbotron a few times– probably even more on the live television feed that plays in the suite– just because of how well he’s playing. He makes sure to spit on the ice way more often than he normally does, just to send you a message.

In the back of his head, Jack realizes that people who write fanfiction will be thirsting over these clips of him spitting. Good. More things for you to read while he’s gone.

You’re home by the time he makes it back. You’re on him from the second he walks through the front door. 

“You read my–”

“Your secret fanfiction?” Jack teases. “It was an accident at first, but then I realized who it was about.”

You groan, whining as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck. Jack knows you’re blushing and he just laughs, cradling your body in his arms. Jack kisses the side of your head, burying his nose in your hair and smelling your shampoo.

“Is that why you spat in my mouth?” You question, voice muffled against his skin. 

Jack laughs again, smiling and swinging you around in his arms playfully. “You seemed to like that bit in your books.”

“It was only in, like, one,” you deflect. 

Jack snorts. “It was in four, baby, and those are just the ones that I read.”

You grumble again, pressing your lips against his neck in a miserable kiss. “You’re so weird,” you tell him. 

“You’re the one reading fanfiction about your boyfriend while he’s away,” Jack replies. “Then you’re recreating it.” He pauses. “‘Such a slut. Well– for me, right?’”

“Oh my God,” you wail.

“Tell me, baby, what do you do when you’re reading those little stories? Do you touch yourself?”

“Jack,” you complain.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You’ll take my spit in your mouth but you won’t tell me if you touch yourself to the thought of me?”

“You are so weird,” you say again. 

Jack feels triumphant, proud of himself. He’s glad that you’re still wrapped up in his arms, even though you’re embarrassed and red. 

“Can I recreate my favorite one?” Jack asks, kissing your head again. “Like you did?”

You pull back from him, fingers finding the nape of his neck and toying with his hair. You seem skeptical, eying him. “You really read them enough to have a favorite one?” You ask, bottom lip sticking out for Jack to lean down and capture between his teeth. 

He nibbles playfully until you start tugging at his locks, convincing him to back away. “‘Course I did,” Jack says, shrugging. “These writers seem to think I’m very good at pleasing you.”

You start to laugh, shaking your head.

“Do you write them?” Jack asks.

That brings you up short. “Do I write them?”

“Yeah. You know how I fuck best, don’t you?” Jack taps your nose with his own. “So, do you write?”

You make a face. “No. I’m not much of a writer.”

That’s true– you’ve often complained to Jack about how you’d like to be able to write as well as your favorite authors. He should’ve thought about that. Instead, he goes back to his most pressing question.

“So?” Jack asks.

“So, what?”

“Can we recreate one?”

He wants you in a tiny bikini or your prettiest push-up bra, your meticulous hand jerking his cock until he comes all over your chest. He wants to spit in your mouth again.

“Which one?”

Jack detangles you from his arms and crosses over to the thermostat. He punches up the heat to 80ºF, turning to look at you.

“Oh, no,” he simpers sarcastically. “It’s so hot in here. It’s like when we’re at the lake house in Michigan during the summer and you wear your bikini around the house all day, teasing me.”

You look thoroughly unimpressed. “You don’t have to turn up the thermostat. You can just ask me to put on my bikini, baby.”

Jack sticks his tongue out at you and resets the thermostat. “Will you put on your bikini for me?”

“Yes. Also, J, I didn’t read that one yet.”

Jack is delighted. He really gets to guide you through this, leaving you in the dark like he was the first few times you acted out a fanfiction together without his knowledge. “Good,” he says. “Then you’ll be just as surprised as I was when I read it.”

You roll your eyes once more, hiding a smile, before you disappear down the hall and into the bedroom. Jack puts his hockey stuff on the balcony like always. You tend to complain that it stinks. He’s used to it by now, having played hockey for so many years. The smell is nothing.

He joins you in the bedroom and finds you in your bikini, just like you said you’d be. It’s the white one that you’ve had for ages, since before Jack started begging you to go to the gym with him. He asked you to do so so that he could watch you work out and get all sweaty– hot– and he doesn’t regret it one bit. You were less broad then. The musculation broadened your hips and your chest, like it was expected to. Age has also helped– you once complained to Jack about looking different than you used to, so he looked it up so that he could find some way to comfort you that was steeped in fact rather than sympathetic words, and he found that women go through a second kind of puberty in their life where they become even more womanly. That’s the best way he can describe it. Jack doesn’t care that your body has “changed” since he started dating you. He barely even notices, except in moments like these. 

The swimsuit is small on you. It doesn’t cover everything the way it used to when you first bought it. The triangular cups spread only so far over your tits, leaving sideboob for Jack to gawk at. The bottoms are wrenched up over your hips and you’re facing away from him, so he gets to see the way that the fabric bunches and tries to ride up between your cheeks. 

He can’t help it. He crosses the room and grabs at your ass, completely groping you. It would be inappropriate if you weren’t together and minutes away from fucking. Luckily, Jack gets to touch you whenever he wants. It’s the best thing ever.

“Ja-ack,” you complain, drawing his name out and turning towards him. Jack is reluctant to let go of your lower half, so he circles his arms around your waist to keep his hands on your skin. He splays his fingers out as much as he can before he cups the weight of your behind in each palm, pointedly inching closer to grind his hips against your front. 

“Pretty girl,” Jack compliments, claiming your lips again with his. He never gets enough of kissing you. 

You kiss him back, then you bring your hands down and grope his ass in the exact same manner as he’s groping yours. 

“Hey,” Jack exclaims, his touch flying to your hands and removing them. 

“Oh, so you can do it but I can’t?” You question. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t have an ass like yours!”

“Are you calling me fat?”

This is your go-to line when Jack compliments your figure– particularly your ass and your tits. He was absolutely shocked and affronted the first time you pulled that line out of thin air, but this time might be the millionth time you’ve asked him if he thinks you’re fat, so he’s used to it.

Jack bites his lip and wiggles his eyebrows, putting his hands on your assets again. “Calling your ass fat,” he replies. “I love this fat ass.” He punctuates his tease with a squeeze.

You burst out laughing. “You’re so fucking weird!” You repeat again.

“Get on your knees,” Jack says. He’s trying to inflect his words like Bob asking Linda to undress in Bob’s Burgers. He knows you’ll get the reference, even though you don’t react.

You give him a little look, just a slight cut of your eyes, and then you kneel down. Jack’s cock twitches in his pants at the mere sight of it.

He cups your jaw with one hand and tilts your chin up, biting his lip as he admires you. “Easy,” Jack says.

“Well, I’m not going to fucking fight you, Jack. You’re the one who wants to recreate this fanfiction and I’ve never read it, so obviously I’m going to listen–”

While your mouth is moving, Jack gathers spit. Instead of letting it fly from his mouth towards your face, Jack lets it drip in a long line until you realize what he’s doing and stop talking. He quirks an eyebrow, prompting you. 

You open your mouth again and let his saliva fall onto your tongue. 

Jack pats your cheek and you close your lips. Jack waits, but he sees no movement in your throat. 

“Swallow,” he tells you.

And you do. 

Jack can’t really describe the feeling that washes over him. It’s simultaneously exciting that you will take anything he gives you and like an honor that you’ll do something so– odd? Is that the word? Jack doesn’t know– just because he asked you to.

There’s also the sexy bit, where it’s something from his body that you’re swallowing. He’s always loved it when you swallow his seed, but that’s so much more normalized. Every guy likes that. Not every guy does this spit thing.

“That’s my girl,” Jack says. He bends down and kisses your forehead as a reward. 

You don’t seem to have the words to form a reply.

“Was that okay?” Jack asks. He needs to make sure that your speechlessness is because it’s sexy and you like it, not because you’re staying quiet and dealing with his actions, just waiting it out until he’s finished. Then, you’ll never do it again and he’ll never be the wiser that you hated it.

You nod. “Yeah,” you agree quietly. “I like it.”

Jack’s anxiety melts. “I’m not making you do this?”

You shake your head. “No. It’s–” You shrug and look down.

“Tell me,” Jack implores gently. “I need to know.”

“It’s different is all. Now I’m thinking about it too much, I don’t want to think about it.” You pout up at Jack, looking a little sad. 

He wants to solve it for you. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it. As long as you like it, that’s enough.”

“I like it,” you confirm. You touch his knee, then the front of his pants. “Can I show you how much I like it?”

Jack nods, bringing his hands to his belt and undoing it. He unzips himself and drops the dress pants to his ankles, letting you do the work on his briefs. “You can,” Jack says. “But you have to stop before I come.”

You’re pulling him out of his underwear as he speaks, but you pause when he tells you when you have to stop. You look up at him, hand circling his cock. He’s been growing hard this whole time, so his cock is standing out towards your face even without your hand guiding it. Once, you were making fun of him, and you compared his dick to a compass trying to find “true North”– you. Jack has thought about that moment every single time you take his cock out since you said it. He’s been able to move past it, but he thinks about it nonetheless.

“I’m never the problem when it comes to stopping,” you bite at him, your words pointed and knowing. 

“Fuck off,” Jack sneers playfully. You might be right, but that’s not fair. He likes to come, he doesn’t want to stop himself. “Suck my dick, baby.”

You stick out your tongue at him, but then you take him in your mouth.

Like most times, all thought leaves Jack’s head. When he fucks you, or when you’re taking care of him, there’s rarely anything actually flowing through his head. His mind is just automatically filled with holy shit– mouth– warm– tongue– oh, I hope you do that again– fuck, shit, oh my God– wait, don’t thrust, you don’t want to gag too much– on a loop. 

When he looks at you, his heart is lurching because of the slopes of your cheekbones and the wide, blown out look in your eyes. He can’t look at you and feel your movements at the same time because he will come down your throat. He’s just a man. He’s simple. 

Jack takes you by the hair and stops you, pulling out of your mouth and stepping away. He’s breathing more heavily than before and his cock is throbbing with a need to release. His hand circles his base, trapping himself and providing a bit of relief. 

Some of your spit keeps his dick connected to your mouth. It’s hot. Briefly, Jack tries to decide if he’d let you spit in his mouth, but it requires too much thought for the moment, so he tables it for later. 

“Give me your hand,” Jack says.

You comply and Jack curls your fingers around his shaft. You wait for him to tell you what to do– which Jack definitely likes.

“I want to come on your pretty tits,” Jack says, trying not to twitch and jerk his hips when you start to move your hand. “And I want you to make it happen.”

You grin up at him, dipping your head to press a kiss to the tip of his cock before you guide him towards your chest. Jack’s cockhead bumps your collarbone before you start to drag your hand in thorough strokes, pointing the tip towards the valley of your cleavage. You look up at him all the meanwhile, watching his face as he succumbs to the pleasure you’re providing to him. 

Jack touches your face with one hand. Your free hand is resting on the front side of his hip, just feeling him. He places his other hand over yours, gripping the appendage in a distorted version of holding your hand.

Warmth shoots through his body, your clenches and twists along his cock hurling him towards the powerful climax that he’s been anticipating since he started reading your little stories on the bus on the way to California.

“Fuck, baby, you’re always so good at that,” Jack tells you, praising you in the way that always brings a sweet blush onto your cheeks. 

You thank him quietly, bashfully, continuing your ministrations until the pleasure overcomes Jack and he moans, watching his cum splash over your skin. It’s the strokes of a masterpiece, but at the same time, Jack is marring the masterpiece that is your body with the white ropes that you’ve drawn from his cock. He’s privileged because he gets to ruin you.

After he comes, Jack brings you up to your feet and kisses you again. He can taste himself on your tongue, tangling with his as you kiss him back. Jack brings his hand between your legs, dipping into the fabric to find that you’re deliciously wet between your folds. 

He teases you with his fingers while he kisses you, letting time pass until you’re wiggling against him and making little noises into his mouth. Jack dips his finger into your hole, only going up to the first knuckle. It’s barely enough to satisfy you, but it allows Jack to belittle you a bit before giving you more, when you beg for it.

Surprisingly, you don’t beg for him to finger you more. You don’t ask him to take your bikini off. You keep kissing him and whining into his mouth, grinding your hips. After only a few more rolls of your hips, you pull away.

“Let me try something,” you whisper, kissing him once more before returning to your knees.

“‘Kay,” Jack agrees, watching you carefully. 

You kneel tall, pursing your lips and focusing on his cock, which is doing its best to fill up entirely for the second time. 

Jack’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when you push your breasts together so that Jack’s cock can rest between them. The pressure from your hands against your boobs, sandwiching Jack’s cock, drives him crazy.

The smug look on your face, knowing what you’re doing to him, makes Jack even crazier. It’s like when you’d recreate your little stories. You were in the know, but Jack was not. Now, you knew that you’d be tittyfucking your boyfriend, and you knew that he’s got a thing for your chest… oh, it’s a dream. Jack might never be able to look at anyone else sexually ever again. Holy shit.

It doesn’t take long for him to become fully hard again. He’s about seconds away from blowing a second load on your chest– an appealing idea, but evidently one that you won’t let happen. 

You pull back, drawing a complaint from Jack’s throat. You stand and push him back onto the bed, Jack pulling you with him. You land on top of his chest with a little ‘oof.’ You push yourself into a seated position, heavy on his lap. 

“Did’ya like it?” You tease, hands planted securely on Jack’s ribcage. You grind down against his naked cock. The soaked fabric of your bikini bottoms bunches up as you roll your hips, then shifts the other way when you rock back. The sensation is far too much for Jack in this state.

Jack puts his hands on your hips and halts your movements. You resist a little bit, ironically going against your words from earlier about not fighting him.

“If you keep doing that, I’m going to come,” Jack says. “I want to come in you, baby.”

“Okie,” you agree like a goof, which gives Jack a little reprieve. You laugh and pat his chest, kneeling up a bit so that you can take his cock in your hand. You shift the crotch of your bikini bottoms to the side and sink down on Jack’s member, enveloping him entirely.

Jack breathes out as you settle against him. He has to close his eyes and push all the air out of his lungs before he can look up at you again.

His cum has dried on your chest. Your hair is wild. Your fingernails are digging into his chest as you start to rise and fall. Your tits bounce, drawing Jack’s eyes. He can’t really decide where to look– your tits, your face, your pussy… which is swallowing his cock greedily and perfectly, the way only you can.

Your walls are gummy and hot. It’s impossible to escape the pleasure or stave off his second orgasm, especially not when you flex your abdomen and rotate your hips in a little figure-eight that has you inadvertently clenching down on him. You’re like a vice, the one with the crank that takes a tight grip and makes it almost clinically impossible to un-attach. 

Jack is probably babbling, although he’s more focused on the sweet little moans and breaths that escape from your mouth. You’re biting your bottom lip, so Jack reaches up to pull it from your teeth. He thinks again of what it would be like to have you spit into his mouth from this vantage point, but then you start to bounce again and he loses the idea into the ether of pleasure. His first two fingers find your tongue and you start to suck, more noises leaving your mouth and sending vibrations up his arm.

His insides start to feel warm and fuzzy, which is when Jack stutters out a brief warning that he’s going to come. He doesn’t know how close you are, but your fingers on one hand have started to flick against your clit in quick motions. Jack watches your fingers move, enraptured by the sight because they’re just so deft– and then he remembers that those fingers spurred him towards an orgasm before, which landed across your chest– and then a little bit of your saliva slides between his fingers and cools in the bedroom air– and Jack comes inside of you. It knocks all of the breath and all of the tension out of his body, leaving him completely blank and new like he’s floating in space without anything around.

The first thing he sees after whiting out from the orgasm is you, legs shaking, writhing so violently from the gratification of your own climax that his cock is displaced from its home in your cunt. His cum drips out of you and the rapid emptiness allows you to pull off Jack’s favorite trick– your orgasm manifests in a squirt that washes over Jack’s pelvis and leaves you grinding into the air for more. 

Jack pushes himself up to a half-seated position to catch you when you sag forward from sheer exhaustion, kissing you again and bringing you to a position where you can straddle his thigh and continue chasing the aftershocks of your climax. You’re mewling into his mouth desperately, hips working, and Jack wants to give you another but he just can’t. He’s entirely spent.

He plugs you with two fingers, filling you because he knows that’s what you need. You hump against his hand as you come down, your kisses becoming less wanton and needy as you exit the rush of emotion you’re experiencing.

Your kisses turn sweet and long, sensual but not intentional. You’re making out just to feel each other, just like how Jack has his fingers inside of you just so that you’re full. 

“That wasn’t exactly what I read,” Jack is able to joke after your rocking stops. 

“No?” You ask, voice thick, the way it is when you first wake up in the morning and you’re not sure what’s real and what’s a dream. Jack loves when your voice gets like that after he fucks you– it means he did a good job and you’re so satisfied that you’re sleepy. Your eyes are closed now and you wrap your arms around Jack’s neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“I was supposed to spit on your face before you made me come,” Jack says. 

You hum. “I think ours was better.”

“Maybe you should write it down,” Jack teases, which earns him a sharp tug to his hair. He laughs. “Okay, message received.”

You sit in silence for another few minutes. Jack draws shapes all over the expanse of your back– although his favorite is the attempted rose that he puts between your shoulderblades or the series of loopy hearts at the base of your spine. 

“I have another question,” Jack says.

“Hm?”

You really are sleepy. Jack might have to sit you on the counter in the ensuite bathroom and clean you up with a wet rag instead of washing your body of his cum in the shower, which is what he was fully planning to do. That being said, Jack asks his final (series) of question(s).

“That stuff wasn’t, like, actually published, right? People aren’t making money off of my name and life? I don’t have to sue anyone?  I feel like that would be a little embarrassing. I don’t want to go to court because of fanfiction.”

He makes you giggle. “No, baby. They’re not real books. Although, there are probably some real books whose love interests were inspired by you.”

Jack hums. “I’ll allow it.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they don’t even compare to the real thing.” You kiss his shoulder and toy with his hair a little more before Jack decides to take you to the bathroom and clean you up.

You continue to share your sweet kisses, puckering your lips to ask for another every few minutes, and Jack is hopeless to deny you. Not after you did so well, anyway– letting him do exactly what he wanted, and even improving it by working him over with your boobs and squirting because of his cock. 

Jack takes you back to bed after you’re all clean, cuddling up behind you and spooning you. “Love you,” he murmurs in your ear before kissing your neck. 

“Love you,” you parrot back. “Can’t believe you’re making me find a fanfiction that’s better than that for your next goodbye.”

“I’ll do some research, too,” Jack offers. 

You scoff, shaking your head fondly and laughing at Jack one last time before falling asleep. “So fucking weird.”

notes: this has been in my inbox since MAY ELEVENTH. Cappy's patience cannot be overpraised. she sent me FIVE requests outlining this whole thing, complete with dialogue, most of which was completely thrown out the window when i got my own ideas and actually started writing. you all will likely never see the original requests, but they are so silly goofy looking back on it. i have them written down in my notes app, having done that before i embarked on this journey, and i will probably not delete them because it's a nice little memory. back to my roots.

like i told cappy: this fic was a canon event, a fixed point, in my writing journey. i hope you all SINCERELY enjoy it. i know i've said this before, but this could be my magnum opus <3 i think it is the best contender at the moment.

i hope you all enjoyed!

[frenchvanilla-mase]

fans are assholes | r. dias

summary: fans compare your pregnancy to fellow wags, leaving you to feel not so good.

notes: as requested! i don’t think i specified that it was twins but it still works. dad!ruben has to be my fav genre 🤪 i hope you all enjoy, some very cute at moments 💘 let me know what you all think! <3

IT WAS MATCH DAY, and although you were feeling rough like you had done the last 7 months, you had promised your fiancé you would make it to today’s knockout game rather than watching from home. he wanted you to support from the stadium, but he also wanted to get you out of the house too.

you were 32 weeks along and feeling very heavily pregnant.

yeah, it’s all fun and games when dating a tall man until you have to grow his unnecessarily large children.

all you wanted to do was lie down and moan this entire trimester, having nothing but a hard time with this one you were growing. you’d had every bad symptom imaginable, from the nonstop sickness and heartburn, to back and hip pain, difficulty sleeping and sore boobs, and now in the final stages you were experiencing braxton hicks, so yeah - all you did want was to lie down and whine. more than ever, you just wanted to stay in the comfort of your own home and nest.

“—you’re not even nesting though! you’re sitting here watching tv all day! get up and get ready!” rúben had said to you just yesterday morning after you’d told him you were too busy nesting to grab a coffee with him before training.

“mama, i think you should go tomorrrow . .” another sweet voice said from the sofa, glancing sympathetically in your direction.

your sweet boy, elias, didn’t want to offend you and make you feel like a slob, but he really wanted you both to go to his papa’s games. with school, you didn’t allow him to go to any late night matches which were always the majority, but tomorrow’s kickoff was 3:30pm and when he pitched the idea, you felt awful for feeling like you’d deprived him of some fun memories.

you really didn’t want to go, but your baby boy deserved it. he’d been working so hard in the last weeks of school and rúben would agree that you needed to take him - he wanted you both there just as much but he also knew not to tell a pregnant woman what to do - he wasn’t the one carrying an 8lb baby around in all summer.

“you nearly ready, baby?!” you called from your room, trying your best to look acceptable for today’s outing. you couldn’t remember the last time you’d done your makeup and styled your hair so neatly, baby dias was really kicking your butt that you hardly had any energy after a shower, let alone doing your makeup and hair.

you really needed them out so you could go back to your old self.

you didn’t remember pregnancy being this hard with eli. with him, you were able to get through the rest of school with him growing in your belly! taking notes and listening in class. sure, you had sickness and a sore back but that was really only at the start and at the end. given, you were younger and full of energy.

eli came along in the last of your teen years but you wouldn’t change anything for the world, same with rúben. he blamed that baby boy for being the reason he pushed himself so hard to get where he was today. he was such an easy pregnancy, and an easy kid.

being honest, you felt more unprepared for this new baby as a grown adult than you did as a teenager back in 2016.

with a few thuds across the landing and a solid jump at your bedroom door, you turned to see your 8-year-old all ready holding two thumbs up. with a man city kit on and trainers, he looked like rúben more than ever. seriously, if you got a photo of rúben back then, it was like looking at eli with a slightly different haircut. it scared you so much. “ready!”

traffic was always bad no matter what time you left, but you got there in one piece and already left eli with one of your closest friends and bernardo’s wife, ines, while you had to run to the bathroom even after such a short journey. jeans were longgg out of the equation so you’d gone with some loose, white trousers to go with the blue football shirt, hoping they didn’t wrinkle too much but still looked good with the outfit. “you are glowing!”

“no, it’s probably just my highlighter,” you pointed to your cheekbone as ines laughed cheerfully.

“no! you look amazing, what are you talking about?! i have missed you!” she couldn’t help but hug you again. “you’re ready to pop!”

she felt your bump and you huffed a sigh, pulling your sunglasses down, “i know, it feels like it.”

you didn’t really like being out this far along, not because you were afraid, but you were at that stage were you were starting to feel gross. like, you looked like a whale no matter what you wore or styled yourself to look like. realistically – you were one of the most beautiful pregnant women the internet had saw. truly, you may have felt like an elephant, but you were still posted on WAG accounts, getting shared by millions of women who begged they could only look as good as you when pregnant or better - envied you for still looking so hot while suffering the struggles of pregnancy.

how?! 😭❤️

life’s not fair!!!! 😫

what’s her secret?!!! 😍😭🙏🏼

but you could have gotten a thousand comments like that . . but all it took was the one bad one.

fucking hell, keep her inside 😂🫣

who is that??

🤣🤣🤣🤮🤮

a lot of the time you didn’t care because you knew how the internet worked, and you know the majority were sad-little-pathetic-football-fan men. they barely impacted you.

when it was women on the other hand . . .

“i just can’t believe one woman would say that to another woman,” you tilted your phone to show ines the replies. “what happened to the whole ‘girls help girls?’” you had to put your phone down before you ended up on a gossip page for arguing with people in your comment section.

“it’s always down to jealousy, babe. they hate you ‘cause they ain’t you,” she pointed, the same thing you had told her when she got her first negative comment, and you smiled at her attempt of making you feel better. she was such a good friend.

the internet was a weird place. your life was a weird place, you didn’t think there’d be a day people hated you for simply being with a person. you found it weird paparazzi followed you around when rúben was the famous one. you found it weird there were accounts dedicated to you when you didn’t do anything. it caught you off seeing people notice every little thing about you or knew things you forgot you’d explained. it did add a little bit of pressure knowing you were being watched and most likely compared to other beautiful WAGS. you’d be lying if you didn’t say you’d put on makeup in fear you’d be posted all over those news articles and WAG accounts.

you forgot how stressed matches made you until kickoff, two minutes in and already overthinking how this would go down. rúben had your heart fluttering nontheless with how he ran up and down the pitch, giving orders all sweaty and even repping the captain band for a bit. it made you feel real good about your baby daddy.

“come on, pa!” your son would shout when a bit of a ruffle would occur, his father speaking passionately to the ref with frustrating hand movements.

the halftime whistle blew and you let out a breath, fanning yourself as your body relaxed for a small moment. 0-0. “ma, i need to go to the bathroom.”

“me too, let’s go!”

perks of dating a footballer? renting out their own box for friends and family - including the private bathroom. no queues around hereee.

walking through the rows and steps, you couldn’t help but feel eyes pinned to you. ines would tell you because you’re a WAG of a player (you regret ever educating her on that term) but really you felt like it was because you looked like a whale making her way through the stands.

eli convinced you to do a lap of the stadium just once to ‘stretch your legs’ when really it was something he always liked to do as he believed it ‘made halftime pass quicker’. so hobbling around with few staff members recognising the kid (or rather seeing the clear evidence he was a mini rúben) , you strolled around the packed building, trying to squeeze past football fans, getting stopped once for a picture.

“thank you so much!”

“no worries at all,” you waved to the two girls, shooting them your kindest smile. they were so lovely, and even complimented you for ‘pulling off pregnancy so well’.

“you’re sLayiNg” eli mocked them, taking your hand.

“shut up,” you tutted. you appreciated being told you were still slaying.

“matt!”

the 8-year-old suddenly bolted to a familair security guard in a neon vest who was delighted to see the boy. “my man!”

you didn’t bother rushing over, you were out of breath as it was and decided to just lean on the wall while elias got his quick catch up, waving at matt instead. halftime was almost over. you should be heading back now.

“—not the best one though.”

“—no, sasha is definitely the best wag.”

i swear, the word ‘wag’ triggers you like nothing else.

you tried not to look around, but to your left, you could make out two bodies mingling with each other. both wearing light blue tops with stylish jeans and trainers, the two girls waiting outside the bathroom, trying to talk quietly between then in a mumbled manner.

you were a mum - you had mastered your hearing to hear the grass grow.

“–but sasha’s not pregnant?”

“–but if she was, she’d have a cute bump, not . . ”

their silence had you believe they’d glance in your direction, and it took every bone in your body not to stare dead on at them with a smile to let them know you heard every word - but you didn’t. you played oblivious and stayed watching eli, a forced sweet smile on your lips.

“–foden’s girl always has a cute little bump too!”

“–oh my god, yes. she’s stunning.”

“–he’s stunning too, to be fair.”

“eli, come on son!” you wanted to bang your head on the wall not wanting to endure the conversation anymore. now you’d tune in, you couldn’t tune out.

“–ok. bye matt! see you later,” he didn’t waste a second to return to you. “see you soon, buddy!”

you waved at matt and led him through the crowds, not meaning to hold his hand so tight until he pointed it out. “ow, ma, you’re hurting me.”

“sorry baby.” you didn’t sound sorry but you felt utterly hot and bothered. and not in the good way.

for some unreasonable reason, a small line of carts drove through the halls, and you stood against the wall as they passed by, holding your son by his shoulders. you could hear a small utter of whispers from your side but refused to turn your head. you really needed to fucking sit down.

“—dias’ girl! look at the size of her!”

“–rob that’s so mean! she’s pregnant!”

“WOW!” eli stole your attention as he almost stepped out in front of a last minute one zooming by. you smiled, and quickly manoeuvred him on your way.

“keep going, keep going,” you shuffled behind him in the stands, but stopped amidst a waiting line as someone caused hassle. your foot kicked something. “oh i’m so sorry!”

you accidentally tapped your foot to a lady’s handbag, but she smiled and waved you off. “you’re alright, don’t worry!” shortly adding, “i’m not surprised!” glancing to your belly.

it wasn’t malicious, but it was about to be the last straw of some floodgates. “ha! i know . . I’m like a whale.”

“how far along are you?” her friend asked.

“about 7-8 months,” you smiled sweetly, ignoring the fact they didn’t assure you that you didn’t look like a whale. thanks.

“oh wow!”

“i know,” you fake laughed. why wasn’t this line moving?

“is it twins or just the one?”

you tried to stop your eye twitching. who in the right kind said that?! was that . . a backhanded compliment?! what that even a compliment?! or was she genuinely asking in a stupid and nosey manner? “no, but it feels like it,” you fake laughed, and they did too. twats.

“oh my! you’re so big!”

“he or she will be a big boy or girl,” the other corrected with her pint in hand, knowing her friend’s words had just flown out of her mouth.

“yeah . .” you were done with this conversation but you didn’t dare be rude. thankfully, the line moved, and they waved goodbye. “congratulations!”

“thank you!” you replied, turning back around, mouthing absolute knobheads.

“mum, i don’t think you’re a whale,” eli’s hand patted your own that rested on his shoulder, bringing you back down to earth.

your heart thumped and although he didn’t look at you, your heart melted to a puddle as you squeezed his shoulders and ruffled his hair, knowing you’d embarrass him with a kiss. “thank you baby. you’re always to sweet to me.”

and he was. you actually . . wanted to cry. shock.

“hey!” ines greeted. “where’d you guys go?”

you only shook your head and nodded to you son who was standing again, ready and recharged for more yelling. you felt ines squeeze your hand and you looked at her, “are you ok? you look . .”

“yeah, i’m fine,” you dabbed your eyes and put your sunglasses back on. “just . . stupid stuff, and then e said something really sweet and i just,” you held your heart which made her laugh and reassure her for the time being. “ok, but . . you can tell me, y’know?”

“just being emotional,” you said the obvious, making her laugh as you leaned into her for support.

you would tell her later, but right now, you were going to use the rest of the game as your excuse to start screaming.

-

the game ended on a win. you saw rúben briefly when the players walked around and applauded, and eli mirrored his excitement and happiness, waving and calling to him as he spotted you guys. he was ecstatic you could make it.

it was after 6 by the time you got home and settled. you were about to order food when you second guess your options, today’s events replaying in your mind:

look at the size of her!

sasha would have a cute bump.

you’re so big!

you knew you were pregnant but there were far nicer things to say to a pregnant lady. what a bunch of assholes.

instead, you cooked some carbs up for eli and made yourself a seperate dinner, feeling the need to watch what you were eating now - you’d be giving birth soon and all those pregnancy cravings didn’t just leave when the baby came. you weren’t silly - you weren’t going to deprive yourself of food, but maybe they had a point - why wasn’t your bump considered cute? was it hard to tell you were pregnant? what were you doing differently?

you were on the verge of calling sasha and asking her what she put in her green smoothies when the door opened.

“meu amor?”

“in here champ,”

something rúben didn’t expect to see what you lying on the couch with a salad balanced on your bump, and you munching away like it was a 5-star dish. “what’s this about . . ?” he smiled sceptically, dropping his bag to the floor.

“what’s what?”

“that.” he nodded to your plate.

you shrugged. “took a notion for it.”

“for . . a salad?” he clarified, looking down at you, entertained in some sense.

your craving for the last 5 months had been anything with chocolate frosting on it. rúben had watched you talk yourself out of buying a tub of it on its own because you knew if was weird and would have to bake go use it.

“yeah.”

to be fair, the salad was tasty, and you were enjoying it but . . at 7 months pregnant? rúben tilted his head. “where’s eli?”

“is his room.”

“he had salad too?”

“he had pasta and garlic bread.”

now he knew something was up. you? not eating garlic bread? italian in general?

someone had said something to you.

he looked at you concerningly, but he was too afraid to ruin the peaceful moment. you seemed calm. he had won a game and you were in a good mood today. baby boy or girl mustn’t be giving you too much trouble so that was a win in itself. so he just leaned down and kissed you lovingly. “hi.”

“hi,” you smiled, pecking him three more times before he rose again. “well done today.”

“thank you,” his hand touched your belly for about two seconds before you swept it off smoothly with your own, squeezing it instead. you smiled up at him again, “love you.”

he kissed you again trying to hide his confusion – but something was up. you were being odd. “love you too.”

and he left and headed for eli’s room, leaving you to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding before slouching again and continuing with your dinner.

-

the rest of that evening, rúben was correct. you weren’t yourself.

your mind was somewhere else, and your head wasn’t out of your phone. constantly scrolling, you had overanalysed every picture captured of you today and tried not to nitpick. reading comments. comparing yourself. he wondered what you were doing.

but everyone else did have small bumps. everyone’s looked so cute. they didn’t use pregnancy as an excuse to eat whatever they wanted or slack with self-care. they still wore tight clothing. they still looked gorgeous. you began to compare yourself to all these other wives and girlfriends on the page, wondering how on earth they looked that good.

ummmm, ‘cause maybe they’re 12 weeks along and you’re triple that?

the next morning, rúben kissed you in the kitchen before leaving. “what’s that?”

“what?”

“that,” he nodded to the drink in your hand.

“a smoothie?”

“for breakfast?”

“well yeah,” you furrowed your brows, and he immediately shook his head, pulling that judgemental, disapproving look you sometimes wanted to punch. “no, no, come on, don’t be silly, now,” he almost laughed, “you need to eat something proper.”

“it’s a smoothie, it has everything i need in it?”

“y/n, make something to eat. you’re almost 8 months pregnant for crying out loud,” he looked at you seriously. he didn’t want to sound like he was scolding you or making you feel stupid but you knew he was worried about the lack.

overprotective rúben had always been a constant in your relationship but when you were pregnant — phew, “you got my baby in there.”

“–and he or she is looked after, it’s a healthy drink—”

he took it from your hand and kissed your cheek in the process, taking it with him to training with a smirk, “stop being lazy and cook.”

you were furious. you were actually annoyed that he had taken the drink himself and didn’t find it funny. he kissed eli’s head and the door closed, and you were left highly irritated.

you couldn’t see eli shrink, but he did, looking wide-eyed at the table as he considered his dad a brave brave man in that moment to do that to you - considering the look of your face.

and as a pregnant woman with her emotional struggling to stay in check - you lost it as they all blended together once eli was dropped off at school, sitting in a car park of a café you regretted going too now that you sat with your decaf latte and triple-choc muffin. the frustration quickly turned to tears as you had a moment, eyes in your hands, thinking over everything the last couple days.

yes you were pregnant, but was there a need to be that big? were you even that big compared to others? were you really that bad to look at? that unflattering? did it even looking like you were pregnant? the loose clothing probably didn’t help, but who wanted to wear tight clothing? pregnancy was hard - it was hard to glamourise it all the time!

you’d never cried over looking bad the first time you were pregnant, maybe once or twice when a pair of jeans didn’t fit or you couldn’t reach your shoelaces, but never over the way you felt about yourself. you actually were starting to feel disgusting, and it was embarrassing because you let randomers make you feel this way!

. . and then the pathetic-ness turned into anger because why were people such assholes?! how can they not keep an opinion to themselves?! making you feel bad about your baby!

. . and then the anger turned to guilt because your sweet little baby was just trying to grow and be healthy and you were upset over it. tears again.

you didn’t know how to fix it. the damage was already done, you had a month left, there was no going back now with salads and smoothies, you yanked your paper bag with your muffin off the floor, eating your money’s worth. rúben subconsciously popped into your head as he was probably eating some fruit salad or nutritious sandwich at this time.

oh rúben. you wished he was here but you also knew you wouldn’t want him near you at the minute, not when you weren’t feeling yourself and you had people in your comments telling you he was on his way of replacing you.

he would call you stupid, but rúben just wouldn’t understand. he wouldn’t get being on the other side, the built in competition that automatically comes with being a woman, more than ever with this lifestyle he had given you. one where you’re compared left right and centre with a certain standard to achieve.

you bet every handbag you owned, he’d screw his face up and go ‘are you serious’ if you told him your issue. he knew you were above anyone commenting stupid things on your posts and found it immature of you in a way if you did take those things to heart - i mean they were nobodies! jealous nobodies! but that’s easy for him to say, his comments are flooded with never ending support, guys praising him for his talent, physique and hard work and most girls telling him to hurry up and leave you. spamming with flame and tongue emojis, thirsting over your man just the way you did, only boosting his ego more which rúben did not need.

so you just felt silly, and picked at your muffin, accepting your were going to be a whale wag.

you felt like a slob when you got back home, staying on the couch after cleaning, and then crying except you were watching a movie to blame it on that.

you still couldn’t get comments out of your head, i mean what was an ‘expired wag?!’ or a ‘busted oven?!’ what did that mean? and why always the skull emojis?!

scrolling once again through photos of comparison, you scrolled onto a beautiful pic of your beautiful bestie, ines, and straight away phoned her. “hey.”

“hey! what’s up! what’s going on? why do you sound you out of breath?”

“why do you think?” you laughed.

“girl are you crying again?!”

and you started talking. you had to get things off your chest and you needed ines to make you feel better, to assure you and let you rant, and she happily did, after all, you’d always been there when she was having a moment.

“–what did rúben say?”

“nothing, i haven’t told him anything. he’ll just tell me i’m being ridiculous.”

“he won’t!”

“ines, he would, he’s not like bernardo. rúben’s harsh!”

“so are you! which is why i can’t believe you’re still crying over this!”

he was harsh in the good way, in the same way you were. you were both practical. real. realistic. you picked each other up and told each off when you were being ridiculous. pulled each other out their asses. brought you back down to earth.

but you just needed comforted at this current moment by your girl.

as you continued to chat and laugh more than you thought, the front door opened without your acknowledgment and rubes stepped through. freshly showered after a long morning of training, he instantly heard your voice rambling over the phone. he took notice of the tissue also crumpled on the floor by the door (you’d been carelessly tossing them for dramatic effect) and paused after he thought he’d heard a sad sniffle. he closed the door quietly and crept near the living room.

“i can’t help it, i do just feel . . blegh,” you felt like you were being ridiculous but you couldn’t help it. “like, why does everyone keep making a big fuss about it? am i really that massively huge or am i just not liked?”

he heard another woman’s laughter on your phone and recognised her as soon as she began talking to you, “y/n, i promise no one is making a fuss of it, it probably just seems in your face all the time because you keep going back to check. i promise the world is not broadcasting you,” ines chuckled sweetly, which followed your sad laugh also.

“well the wag world does!”

“y/n!” she laughed, “you’re overthinking it. i promise you have nothing to worry about. the only person who’s opinion should matter to you is rúben’s and everybody knows he has you on a pedestal!” rúben found himself smiling. he’d always been a fan of ines. “he’s called you his wife since you came to manchester! he’s always been proud to show you off, you look good - you look amazing! people are just saying that stuff about you to make themselves feel better.”

“mm, i guess,” you sniffed, holding your forehead. “i don’t know, it’s just been getting to me . . and i’m not saying to rúben because he’ll tell me i’m being stupid. i wouldn’t be surprised if he was leaving an hour earlier in the mornings to get away from me. it’s not like my looks can make up for my psycho-ness anymore,” you joked.

“y/n!” she tried not to laugh. “though, pregnancy psycho-ness is definitely real.”

it is, rúben mentally agreed also, though his heart still sank further as he heard you talk about yourself in such ways. he didn’t want to call you ridiculous but come on, you were pregnant! didn’t they all count as compliments to a pregnant lady?!

“it is,” you let out a sigh, “i wouldn’t want to be around me either, just this big angry rhino walking around the house,” you laughed together, “he goes to a paris event on friday anyway, he’ll get a break and have plenty of french models to—”

a clear of a throat had you whipping your head to the door, seeing rúben’s hard stare. your mouth went dry. “uhhh, ines i’ll call you back.”

you felt bad hanging up as she was speaking back, too shocked you’d been heard rambling for the last couple minutes. or probably longer! how long had he been standing there?!

“listen—”

“french models?! french models, y/n.”

“rúben, it’s not in context—”

“oh i heard the context, i heard everything,” he came in the room, not one spot of happiness found on his face. he was fuming. you could tell, and disappointed too, you felt like eli getting told off by him, throwing yourself back into the couch as he stood with that gruff, intimidating look, hands shoved in his pockets.

“you don’t get it—” you could already feel the tears welling in your eyes, though a pit of frustration was brewing in your chest hot and fast. this was going one of two ways.

“what don’t i get? you don’t tell me what’s wrong when i ask you!”

“‘cause you wouldn’t understand!”

“ok but what i do understand is my wife accusing me of what? getting to pick which ‘french model’ i want to take home next week?”

now your face fell flat, realising how ridiculous and cruel that sounded. you shouldn’t accuse him of that kind of stuff.

“rubes, i just—” your mouth felt dry again. tears brimming again, you could feel how hot they were. the words were on the tip of your tongue but you didn’t know how they were gonna come out.

“what is it? tell me,” he pushed, eager for you to actually get out what you wanted to say so he could help sort it. “i’m here to listen.”

and you did, you unleashed it all. “people are assholes. your fans are assholes. i’m sorry but i cannot believe the stuff people have no issue saying to other people - pregnant people at that! as if the 9 months aren’t hard enough, i have this mob of men and women on my back, judging and critiquing my every outting. i can’t do it anymore, it’s actually ruining whatever self-confidence i have left!” the tears were streaming as you began your rant, choking down sobs as you moved your hands, a fury behind all the sadness.

rúben crouched down, wanting to be nearer as you let it all out. “every day, every hour, i have someone online, reminding me off how big i am, how unflattering my paparazzi pic is, how whale-like i am! how hard it’s gonna be to shift this baby weight! i’m getting put in competition with every other pregnant wife and girlfriend of your teammate and showed how much better they pull it off! how gorgeous they look all the time! how their bumps are ‘cute’ and small and ‘suits them.’ i heard it myself at your game the other day! it’s like they’ve never seen an un-photoshopped pregnant woman before!” you met his eyes, realising you were probably being silly and that there were bigger problems in the world. “i just feel disgusting, rúben. i never felt like this with eli, i was in this perfect little bubble but this time so different. i don’t want to leave the house when i know a monstrosity of photos are getting taken of me, pointing out every flaw. i don’t have a cute, small bump! i do look like a whale! i can’t dress sexy! and i get what people are saying when they say it’ll be a bit before you can look at me again ‘cause god knows—”

“shh,” he quickly silenced you, placing a finger to your lips. his brows were furrowed as yours did, fed up of hearing you ramble about all the bad things about yourself. he felt pain in a way. he just couldn’t believe you actually thought these things about yourself. “wha— . . . are you being serious?”

“OH MY GOD!” you threw your arms up. see!

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, meu amor,” his big hands softly caressed your legs in front of him, along your smooth thighs to stop you from exploding again, “i’m sorry. it’s just . . i . . it annoys me that you let these things get to you, these random, strange people that you don’t even know. you take their opinion over mine. so mine doesn’t matter, it doesn’t count?” he looked you deeply in the eye, “how does that make sense? explain that to me.”

your head hit the cushion as you groaned but rúben held your hands comfortingly. he didn’t want to make you feel stupid, but he wanted to hear your thought process. “to me, it’s like . . you have the choice of walking into a room full of all these people who hate you, and you know the hate you, after being in one full of people you love . . and you go into the hateful one and are surprised that all these people are saying all these bad things about you when you could have just left it alone and focused on the lovely ones - from people who matter to you! who are actually in your life! do you understand?”

you nodded along, entranced by his eyes and how they were able to ground you alone. “you know that i think you’re the best thing in the world. you know i would love you if—” he thought off the top of his head, “you had 10 extra toes. a third eye. if you had a cow nose. elf ears!” your hair slipped silkily through his fingers, “you know i think you’re the most beautiful woman ever even dressed in a trash bag. i would still love you if you did wear trash bags. if you had a cow nose. if you weighed the same as a cow. if you weighed the same as a baby cow,” you broke a chuckle at that. “i’ve loved you through our ugly teen years, when i shaved my hair and your eyebrows were stick thin,” you laughed more as he let out a breath of relief, “i loved you when with vomit down your shirt and your hair dyed that weird colour—”

“rúbennn . .”

“what? and i loved you when you had eli in your stomach, and he was big baby,” his hand touched your belly, moving it in the same motion he always did because that’s when he got to feel the small kicks of this baby dias. “i loved you even more even when i saw how he came out,” he shot you a wildered look.

you facepalmed, dragging your hand down dreadfully at the thought of having to relive that moment all over again in over a months time.

his features turned as his thoughts turned sour, “why are you letting stupid fucking people affect you?”

“i don’t know . . i guess ‘cause so many people are saying it i . . it must be true to some extent—”

“y/n—”

“seriously, rúben. i don’t have a cute, small bump. ines and rebecca are always such sweet—”

“Y/N! have you SEEN the size of bernardo and phil next to me! is it any wonder they’re small! their child comes out the same size as them!” his hand shot out with passion.

now your head was in your hand with muffled laughter, caught off guard by his statement. “seriously! seriously, now you’re supposed to be the smart one,” he tried to look at you, that loving smile shining your way as his heart sang at the sound of you laughter. “you’re shocked that me, that we, have big babies . . that ines has a much smaller bump than you . . are you serious? that rebecca has a smaller bump than you? rebecca, phil and elway stacked on top of each other wouldn’t even reach the height of me!”

“rúben,” you laughed, feeling an actual blush of embarrassment coat your face at how stupid he’d made you feel, but in a good way.

he was so right. what were you thinking?

“i’m like, the biggest guy on the team! sorry i didn’t realise that was gonna be a problem for you,” you lightly hit his shoulder to wrap up the sarcasm, still giggling. he looked at you from the floor, his hands still on you, on your leg on bump — the bump that he did make look small next to his hand. “and please remember you’re a month away from giving birth, you’re supposed to be a healthy size. and i been going to training an hour earlier ‘cause i know when this one comes along, i’ll not want to go as much and i’ll want to stay with you both. i’ll start working on my dad bod . .” he felt the small, subtle movement happening inside, but he could feel them if he kept still enough.

“you’d look good with both.” you rolled your eyes.

“and you’d still look better. y/n, you’re not a whale. please stop saying that,” he finally crept to his feet, climbing on the couch on top of you, leaning his arm behind your head. “you are the most beautiful-est woman to me and no-one, NO-ONE can convince me otherwise. you’re my standard of perfect, of gorgeous and sexy and all the rest of it. i’ve found you sexy before this baby, during this baby, and after this baby — i still get comments of people telling me how ugly i look when you’re next to me! you bring my value down!”

his arm wrapped around your neck while the other threw itself over your bump, shifting and snuggling into the sofa more comfortingly, you relaxed alongside him, the tears no trickling down but with good reason behind them as you were shocked to find your love growing even more for rúben when you thought it was impossible. “i don’t know what comments you’re seeing because all i see are the ones calling you a milf, and it takes too much time to try and report them all.”

you held his hand at your shoulder, his lips kissing your cheek repeatedly, over and over again. you knew how much he loved you. “yeah, you’re right. fans are just . . assholes.”

“fans are assholes,” he agreed, stroking your cheekbone, “. . don’t listen to them. you think i listen to everything they say about me?” he perked a brow.

sometimes! you wanted to say but knew better. it was rhetorical question, and you knew his sweet intentions.

“alright? i don’t so why should you? you’re hot stuff babe,” he looked at the side of your face, inspecting every little freckle and faint scar, he just wanted to never stop kissing you. “i love you the way you are. eli loves you for the way you are, and this baby,” he rubbed circles on your belly, “he or she is going to be so unbelievably lucky when they see who they have as their mam. i know it’s not the smallest bump but i think it’s the cutest i’ve ever saw, with my baby girl or boy in there,” he kissed the size of your stomach. he grew more and more excited each day as he got a day closer to meeting who was inside. he couldn’t wait. “. . who they get their good looks from and skill and personality - well, i mean i would like to take some credit for the both of those ‘cause i mean their daddy is pretty c—”

you playfully jabbed his side, making him laugh. “yeah, he’s the hottest one on the field,” you glanced at him, kissing his cheek.

one thing about him, he’d always blessed you with beautiful children.

“yeah, and their mum is coolest one at the school pick up,” his lips trailed along your cheek to your jaw, the slight scruff of his beard tickling you. “you’re the biggest milf to walk the planet–”

“rúbennn,” you chuckled, blushing at his words whilst trying to push him away.

“i’m serious,” he proceeded, peppering kissed down your neck, “and she’s coming to paris with me for the weekend so she can outshine me like she does at every event she comes to.”

you laughed at that, smiling dreamily as he proceeding to love on you.

“and eli?”

“elias gets to stay with his favourite uncle who owes a favour,” he winked.

“hmm. ok.”

“and i’ll give her a reason to cry if she starts thinking like that again,” he whispered in your ear.

your heart slipped a beat. “oh yeah?”

“ohh yeahhh,” he nodded, standing to his feet, not before a loud ‘smack’ echoed the room as he mimicked what your poor backside would get if you kept up that kind of behaviour. “see you upstairs, mama.”

you blew your hair from your face, heart thumping, your hands slowly crept up to your adorable little bump where you caressed it gently as he headed for upstairs, whispering softly, “you are soo lucky he’s your papai.”

your heart raced as he peeled his hoodie off, back muscles staring right at you as he headed for your room, you felt your insides begin to sizzle.

— but you were even luckier he was your husband.

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Hi this is my first time doing this, I love your Christmas series, I thought of this idea yesterday- pre poly Task force 141 × reader where Ghost, Price and Gaz come to base late at night from a mission while reader and Soap are asleep, they come to base and see reader walking to Soaps room groggy with a pillow, and when asked, they say that Soap snores too loud so they will hit him with the pillow to shut him up.( maybe add a little reaction to them seeing reader wearing shorts and a tank top)

Thank you for sending in this ask. It's such a cute idea!! I hope you like what I wrote.

(Oh btw my blog can be quite dark with my other series, it would be much appreciated if you had 18+ or age in your bio so I know not to block you accidentally)

Sleepy

Pre poly 141 x GN Reader

Warnings: MDNI, fluff, slight ideation to murder soap in his sleep, jealous Gaz, 141 ogling reader in sleep wear nothing too explicit though, sorry if I missed any.

AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Poly Masterlist

Words: 1.5k

The rumble of the engine finally came to a stop. Price, Ghost and Gaz just arrived back on base after an excruciating intel mission. At least it was successful and with minimal injuries. They just needed to shower and decompress for a while in order to recover. Obviously no one was looking forward to the debrief the next morning, it meant they couldn't sleep in. They all file out of the humvee groaning out their grievances to the chilly night air, their breaths condensing into clouds due to the cold.

Price's muscles were killing him after that nasty fall from the second story. But he had wiped their servers of all the information they needed. Which he was happy about. He stretches and groans, hearing his joints pop from sitting in one position too long. He rolls his arms trying to get the knot out of his shoulders, while the other two do the same. They walk the hallways in silence hoping to get to their respective beds as soon as possible. It looked like no one was in the mood to share tonight for obvious reasons.

“It's so unfair that Soap got to spend the last three days with them while we were busting our asses off”, Gaz groaned. He was the most annoyed by the mission arrangement. Especially since he was only just getting closer to you after your near-death experience. He was becoming more and more infatuated with you by the day. So much so that petty arguments were breaking out when one of the other boys spent too much time near you for Gaz's liking. He didn't complain as long as he was paired with you for almost everything.

“You know it's not like that, they were also working whilst we were away. He's probably driving them mad anyway. You know they have a special place for you in their heart”, Price countered. Soap and you were left on base since you two were gathering intel for an upcoming mission. It required a lot of attention so it was decided that you and Soap would stay behind to work on it.

“Obviously I'm their favourite…why wouldn't I be?…I treat them the best..”, Gaz continues to grumble quietly to himself. The other two men can't help but chuckle to themselves. He needed to learn how to share better. Eventually they turn the corner to their private barracks only to find you standing in front of Soaps door in the darkly lit hallway. It was jarring at first since they weren't expecting anyone awake at this time. You almost gave them a heart attack just standing there menacingly. You resemble the ghost with the way your hair was messed up and your clothes were rumpled. Were you sleep walking?

You hadn't noticed them yet, too occupied with staring daggers into Soap’s door while clutching a pillow to your chest. You looked groggy and had your lips situated in an angry pout. Everyone stood not knowing what to do. Price read somewhere you weren't supposed to wake someone who sleepwalks, that it was better to gently get them back into bed. But you looked like you wanted to murder someone. Just as Price is about to move to gently get to you a horrible sound rings out throughout the hallway. A sound akin to jammed chainsaw. A sound that was unmistakably Soaps loud snoring.

“I'm going murder him!”, you shout out, stomping your feet. The men flinch slightly at your outburst but it was a funny sight. Definitely welcomed after their exhausting mission, they try hard to keep their laughter contained.

“Who are ya plannin on murderin?”, you yelp and turn towards Ghosts deep manchester accent, hastily hiding your would be murder weapon behind your back. In doing so your chest gets pushed out slightly highlighting your tight tank top with your equally tight short shorts. The fabric clinged to your figure giving the men quite a nice eyeful as you fumble with your words.

“Y-your back, so soon? W-we were expecting you tomorrow morning. Me? I-I wasn't doing anything. I was just going to have a friendly?..yeah friendly chat with Soap. I-I wasn't going to suffocate him promise!…though I could..I definitely could…b-but I wasn't going to do it..promise..m-maybe just smack him a little that's all. I haven't been able to sleep since you guys left…”

They watch you with amusement as you stutter, getting all your excuses out while the men try to hold their laughter in. Obviously they knew you wouldn't harm him seriously, you probably just wanted to hit him with the pillow to get him to shut up so you could sleep. Such an adorable thing you were with your pillow now clutched to your chest as you mumbles your frustration into it. It was a shame the pillow hid all the things they wanted to see but that was ok, they knew this wasn't going to be the only time they saw you in your sleepwear. Especially since they were growing closer to you. But that didn't change the fact everyone needed sleep right now including you. You looked ready to topple over.

Gaz is the first to move as he laughs openly at your antics. He envelops you in a bear hug while trying to get you out of your sour mood. “Come sleep in my bed. I'll put some white noise on so you can't hear him, I'll even make you some tea so you can settle down”, you whine in his hold telling him you've already tried that. Ghost walks by petting your head suggesting wearing ear plugs but you just shake your head into the pillow as you hear him enter his room bidding everyone goodnight. Another earth shaking snore rings out from Soaps room making you groan out in frustration. None of the other men minded Soaps snoring since they were so used to it. They also had their own methods of dealing with the noise. Ghost wore ear plugs but didn't mind the noise most days. Gaz used white noise and the captain was fortunate enough to have his room further away beside his office for easy access.

“Come sleep in my bed tonight sweetheart, you won't be able to hear him there”, Gaz lets you go to pout angrily at his Captain and lover. Price just smirks at him, it was fair game when it came to you. No rules or boundaries were established yet. He'll have to make it up to him later.

“Really? Is that ok captain…?”, you look at him hopefully with your droopy eyes.

“Of course..I need my soldiers in tip top shape. Run along now make yourself comfortable while I chat with Gaz”, you do exactly that after saying goodnight, probably extremely relieved you wouldn't lose another night of sleep. Gaz continues pouting as Price kisses him goodnight.

“Better luck next time love”, Price chuckles to himself as he hears Gaz groan and mutter to himself as he enters his room.

Walking in Price finds you fast asleep, curled up comfortably in the far end of the bed. You must have been really tired. He smiles to himself as he strips quietly to go shower off all the dirt and grime from the mission. Once he's finally scrubbed clean and smelling like his favourite body wash he gently climbs into bed making sure not to wake you. The soft bed is forgiving towards his sore muscles and even better yet that it has a soft body to keep him warm throughout the night. For a second he watches your gentle breathing before getting comfortable and pulling the duvet over the both of you.

Price is a gentleman..most days.. so he stays by his side but it seems your sleep deprived mind has other ideas because you curl against him the second he's beside you. You were basically treating him like a warm body pillow, not that Price minded. He just needed to not focus on what you were wearing or else he wasn't getting any sleep tonight. You're probably too deep in sleep to realise what you were doing anyway. Such a feisty kitten you were when you were all tired and grumpy. He watches you move and get comfortable by placing your cheek on his chest as he settles into bed properly and wrapping his arms around you.

You'd do nicely as another addition to their relationship. He knew the boys were growing to love you more and more as the days went by. To the point that jealousy was being felt if anyone apart from them tried gaining your attention. The only question was how to approach the topic? You weren't the brightest when it came to things of this nature and they didn't want to scare or pressure you into anything. But that was a problem for another day. For tonight he was going to enjoy your warmth to the fullest.

“Our grumpy little sunshine, we'll make you ours just wait a little longer”, with that whispered into the darkness Price places a gentle kiss on your forehead before falling asleep as well.

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

[00kittenz]

── piece of cake ! ( lhs ) 🍰

๑ You and Heeseung attempt to bake together as a fun, cutesy bonding moment— but things don’t end up going quite exactly as planned…

pair: bf!heeseung ㅊ gf!reader | warnings: fluff, smut, my very weird and bad sense of humor lol, #epic fails, hee is sooo babygirl in this, praise, lots of kissing, mwah mwah, soft dom!heeseung, fingering, piv, breeding kink, grrrrreer lovey dovey relationship :3 | words: 2.0k

this was supposed to be short n sweet but it got a bit longer than intended oop- i think this might be the cutest thing i wrote yet ahhh

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“ten..nine..eight..seven.. six,” you slowly count the minutes passing by from pure boredom, eyes squinting at the pink clock that sat on the milky colored walls of your kitchen.

you tapped your acrylics on the marble of your countertop, double checking all the ingredients you had set out for tonight’s adventure. you and your boyfriend, heeseung, decided to have a baking date tonight. it marked your one year anniversary yesterday, but even so, heeseung still wanted to celebrate for the entirety of the week. so today is essentially part two of your anniversary !

“comingg !” you sang, hearing sudden knocks from the front door, knowing that it was none other than your boyfriend. he’s the only one who knocks on your door like he’s making a beat. soon as you open the door you’re met with the most handsome face and the brightest smile, and although you were delighted to see him you couldn’t help but state the obvious.

“why’d you show up so late ??”

“blame jake and jungwon for that, just as i was about to leave they kept yapping my ears off about any and everything !” he attempts to defend himself, wiping the iffy look on your face with a sweet kiss.

“hmm.. really, you’re blaming other people now ? sounds more like an excuse to me,” you playfully combat, giggling against his broad chest once he caged you in his arms.

“psshhh, what excuse— you know how they are !”

“i’m just teasing babe,” you left his hold with a lingering smile, “i’ll forgive you this one time, but only because i missed you.” with that you walked over to the counter of all your supplies, pulling him along with you.

“well damn, you weren’t playing around. you’re super prepared baby.” heeseung rubbed the sides of your hips as he came up behind you, eyes glazing over the ingredients you had laid out all prettily, it seems you doubled up on everything in case you made any mistakes.

“mhm, i might’ve overdid it just a little bit.. but you can never have more than one thing !” you try to justify your overconsumption, you tend to go overboard when it comes to certain things.

while you were out food shopping, there were far too many different varieties of decorations, you can never decide on anything so you just went and bought a whole basket full. but you’re slightly regretting that choice now considering all the money you just spent…

“c’monnn, let’s just hurry !” you stop rambling and get back to business, feeling his kisses lace the crown of your head once you turn to face him. “i wanna make ittt.”

“make what ? our kids ?” “i’m ready whe—” he pauses once his eyes found yours, blankly looking at him. he knew that look was everything but blank. “okok sorry, let’s start..” he awkwardly brushes the conversation to the side, picking up a box of cake mix.

“i’m assuming we’re gonna make the cake on this box ?”

“yup ! a strawberry, triple layer cake.” you say excitedly, peeking at the box he was holding.

“i can’t wait anymore, i’m hungry, let’s gooo !” you express like a hyperactive child, unable to contain your excitement for the delicious dessert.

it was a great idea to actually wear aprons for this event. you initially had the idea set and stone because you wanted to look like a professional baker like on the tv shows. you had to fully commit to the bit, go big or go home ! but, you definitely needed it for more than just the look of it. you two made a mess.

“look, there’s frosting in your hair !” you laughed hysterically at your lover. god knows how the icing even got in his hair in the first place.. “you aren’t even the one frosting the cake, how the hell did it get there ?!” you hinted at the fact that the needy boy was holding you almost the entire time as you started frosting the first layer of the cake.

“i dunno, it’s your fault then, you’re the one doing it !” he spoke against your neck. shivering goosebumps danced across your skin at the feel.

“maybe if you weren’t breathing on my neck 24/7 then you would be the one icing !” you sassily retorted at his laziness, handing him a crate of strawberries. “here, cut these into slices.”

you could hear him groaning at the task you just gave him. “but baby, i wanna hold you still.. can we wait a little ?”

“hee, no, you’ve been holding me since you got here !” your hands lazed on your hips. “get to work, chop, chop !”

“ugh, okay..” he pouts, looking over at you with those precious bambi eyes that was almost about to make you fold in a second. he retrieved a small fruit from it’s catering before taking a knife to it's redness. “babbeeeeee...” he whined.

“no, heeseung.”

“fine, then can you at least hold me this time ?” he pleaded with you, his smile coming into spotlight once he felt your arms wrap around his fit shape. “thank you.” he mumbled continuing on his mission with the strawberries.

๑ ๑ ๑

“sooo, what do i do now ?” he asks, caressing your arms looking back at your watching figure.

“you place them NEATLY on the frosting.” you answered him, placing a kiss on his clothed back, praising him of his quick hands. “you’re doing a good job so far baby.”

“okie dokie.” a small smile hid the big grin that heeseung tried to contain at your praising words.

“good ! now take the frosting—” you left his figure, reaching for the tube of frosting and placing it in his hand. “and gently spread it across the strawberries.”

“go on, do it.” your brows knit together in confusion. why was he just standing there not doing anything ??

“uhh, are you gonna hold me ?” he cocks his head to side, giving you yet another look that you just can’t refuse.

“okay ! damn, so needy.” you shook your head, going back to the warmth of your insatiable boyfriend.

it’s been a while since your little strawberry arranging, now you’re just finishing off the cake with some decorations. considering how long it took you both, the cake ended up looking absolutely phenomenal, you could just picture the strawberries layered with the frosting in your head. you couldn’t wait to get it inside your tummy.

“okay, now add the strawberry on top !” you proudly announce after applying your colorful sprinkles around the rim on the cake.

heeseung, just as happy as you are bounces in place before placing the fruit gently on the glob of icing that sat in the middle of the delicious treat.

“FINALLY,” he shouted, he was ready to just eat it whole. “it’s so pretty !” the two of you share a high five. taking long looks at the cake in awe. mouths drooling for a bite but eyes savoring the look of the treat before the two of you ruin it. you made sure to snap a couple pictures of it to post on your story later.

“hmm.. should we eat it now or wait a bit ?” you ask with hesitance, although you were very much looking forward to devouring it, you still couldn’t bring yourself to actually cut it just yet.

“it looks really tasty, but.. i think i wanna eat something else.” he shamelessly admits, hoping that you’d catch his drift. and, you most certainly did…

๑ ๑ ๑

“hmph,—” your grasp on his wrist tightened at the pressure he was building between your legs. the way his fingers pumped through your folds, how his thumb gave attention to your pulsing clit. your mouth went permanently agape, losing yourself in the blissful feeling of his touch. “hee— yes ! fuck..”

heeseung watched as your teeth captured your bottom lip, the blood rushing around the bruised flesh.

he then captured each of your thighs, on his shoulder, both masses prettily caked on eachother squeezing your cunt between them; his fingers still stretching you out.

“you’re so fucking perfect baby,” he pampered your plushy thighs, kissing them all giddy-like, a mischievous grin on his face. “but you already know that, right ?”

you rapidly nodded, you didn’t wanna speak nor protest, it was like you didn’t know how to breath anymore, you felt so high and small under him, he was like a drug. and it left you with nothing but chilling goosebumps.

“go on, come,” “come so i can give you what you really want.” his pace quickened leaving you entirely unstable, you were shaking, whimpering, your dewy cunt was throbbing around him. “you want it don’t you?”

“yes..—” your voice was hoarse and forced, you’ve become a groaning, dripping mess for him and he adored every bit of it.

heeseung softly bit around your skin, leaving small reddish and purple love bites around your legs.

“oh! baby, i’m—” your orgasm cut you off, heeseung loved whenever you climaxed because of him. how lazy and defeated you look after, the way you gasp and cling for air. “coming..”

“dont worry, i know.” he joked, grabbing your waist, pulling you back up onto your ass. “well kitchen sex is now off the bucket list..” he licked the sides of his fingers, eyeing you directly.

you were mesmerized by him, he had you right where he wanted you. “but i’m not done yet, fortunately enough for you. baby girl.”

๑ ๑ ๑

“babe, you’re fucking swallowing me.” heeseung groaned, pulling at the waistband of your skirt in a tight manner. “pussy still hungry for me ?”

“please..” you whined at the friction of his manhood colliding with yours. like a match made in heaven. “i want it..”

he wasted no time in fastening himself further inside you, he wanted you no more than you wanted him. he needed you the most right now. not only has he been craving to be with you all day, but this whole week meant everything to him. heeseung feels more than lucky to have you, he wants to cherish this anniversary as if it’s a once in lifetime experience.

his large hand pressed on your lower back with every stroke he landed in you. you felt every curve and inch of his length, how it made you see stars the minute his tip kissed your G. “fuck..” he landed a sharp slap onto your ass.

you couldn’t help but grind yourself against him. there was a tense burning sensation sprawling throughout your entire body. it only made you urge for more, like nothing was enough, even though you were in utter utopia. you were a mewling, shrieking mess.

“heeseung ! ugh, please ruin me..hmm please..” your arm reached back grasping at his thighs.

“you’re driving me fucking crazy, y’know ?” he airly chuckled, throwing he head back. the feel of your slick creating sticky vines across his skin whenever he’d pull out. the sound of it, the look of it. all of it turning him on even more.

your back arched at the thought of maxing out around his thick shaft. the praise you’ll get since you’ve done so well for him.

“i love you..” you mumbled bittersweet nothings one after another.

“shit, loosen the fuck up.” his hands entangled your sweaty hair, gripping it in a careful but semi aggressive manner. “oh fuck- i’m gonna come.” he began to thrust into your messy cunt relentlessly, pounding you into oblivion.

“hee— mm’nside please.. !” you slurred, drool heaping out the corner of your mouth.

“inside ? huh? you want my babies, princess?” “you do, don't you? want me to fill your fucking pussy with my seed.” heeseung chuckled at your pleading and begging for his cum. he was tired and worn out as hell, but soo turned on by you, by the thought of you bearing his children.

“ngh~ yes, yes hee!”

“happy anniversary, baby.” his length pumped into you filling you up, not an empty fucking crevice in your soppy cunt. like the frosting to a cake.

“mm, thank you .. baby.. ”

forget all that romeo and juliet cliché love shit, you two were better than that, at least you thought so. you two were...

y/n and heeseung ??

that had a ring to it.. most definitely.

ヾ(・ᆺ・✿)ﾉﾞ

guys why do i feel like my smut has been worse HELP- idk, could just be me overthinking again butttt i hope some of you liked it hehehe ;D <3