#i don't even care about the hotness or whatever i just liked that my tired nighttime voice somehow passed for masculine

[brightfemurz]

i got called he/him in a voice call without ever mentioning my pronouns and got offhandedly told that my voice sounded hot (i was very eepy and so my voice was tired and low pitched). i think ive peaked im packing up and going home.

[lxnarphase]

BITCH, YOU KNOW I'M SEXY ᯓ★

━━ ❝ I'M NOT YOUR MOMMY, N★GGA! FIND A NEW HOBBY, N★GGA! ❞ wc. 5.4k

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : being toji's roommate, you finally snap after another night of not being able to sleep because of his damn late-night hookups. your house, your rules.

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...cw : blk!fem!reader x f. toji, frenemies to lovers, smut, face-sitting + pussy eating, dumbification, degradation, praise kink, dirty talk, playful arguing, hair pulling, size kink, begging, riding, unprotected sex (do not do this in real life omfg), dom-ish reader, sub-ish toji, lots of pet names, toji being an asshole, toji gets called a 'good boy' a few times

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's notes : toji toji toji, what am i going to do with you...anyways, this was super fun and i love these two so much and i need them to go out on a date properly at some point ! if you want to be tagged for the future posts, comment on the main post here ! enjoy baddies ❤︎

you love sleep. absolutely love and cherish it, even.

every night, you follow the routine you set for yourself without fail: hot shower, slipping into some comfy PJs, in-depth skincare, brushing your teeth, and then pulling your bonnet on.

nothing is better than slipping into bed, soft sheets feeling sooo good on your skin. yes, you absolutely love sleep.

except it seems that your roommate has no respect for your need for rest, considering how many times you've had to hear the high-pitched whining of women paired with the annoying thud of the headboard against the wall.

he better not damage the wall either, because he will be the one paying for it.

you both were...sort of friends, sure, but ever since you both graduated college, toji has been doing his best to get on your nerves. constantly picking on you, teasing you, or doing stupid shit that annoys the fuck out of you. especially whenever he leaves the fucking toilet seat up in the middle of the night.

and every time he hears you squeal late at night in the bathroom before shouting his name, he can't help but laugh.

eventually, it went from him just doing things to inconvenience or mess with you to this. and you were tired.

these nightly...activities of his need to be addressed because you are not letting a man of all things be the reason you can't sleep soundly at night. this is your apartment, after all!

it's a friday night and you just know you need to talk to him before you have to hear some woman fighting for her life of toji does...whatever he does that has all these women coming in and out of your apartment like it's a damn brothel...okay, well, it was the same two women, but still!

so that's how you find yourself, pounding on his door, sleepy, tired, and irritated in your hello kitty pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, ready to get in bed and actually sleep.

"fushiguro, open this damn door," you command, fluffy slipper tapping on the floor as you wait for him to open his door. after a minute, you hear a groan and the shuffling of sheets before the door swings open.

toji stands in the doorway, only in a pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips with an eyebrow raised as he looks down at you. you don't care how hot he looks, you want nothing more than to wipe that look off his face, hating how smug he looks.

"whaddya want? 's she here already? told 'er not to come for another 2 hours," he mumbles, scratching at the scar on his lip. you're silent for a moment, processing what he just said. "who......no. nononono. absolutely not, tell whoever you are expecting she is not coming into my apartment."

crossing your arms, you fix him with a tough look. sure, you know you aren't the scariest thing, especially in hello kitty pants and puffy slippers, but it doesn't matter! he is going to respect your wishes or...or else!

"aww, what's wrong, doll? can't sleep," he teases, voice low and sinfully smooth as smirk finds its way onto his face. "guess ya should've invested in those headphone y'keep talkin' about so much. can't help that 'm just that good that the girlies can't keep their mouths shut."

having you in front of his bedroom door like this...it's so fucking adorable to him, you were just so cute and didn't have a single clue, did you? complaining that he and his little playthings were too loud and keeping you up was not what he expected. but, toji won't lie, he's genuinely surprised it took you so long to finally say something.

it seems his little comment struck a cord, his smirk getting bigger when your eyes get just a bit wider in disbelief. man, you were so fucking cute like this, all angry and huffy.

"okay, first of all, those headphones are NOT comfy to sleep with at night. and i'm not dropping almost $400 dollars on something so that i can accommodate for you," you argue, stepping forward and jabbing your finger into his stupidly big chest.

no, seriously, why were his pecs almost bigger than your tits?

"can you please just let me sleep for one night, or are you that sex deprived you can't go a single night without getting your dick wet?"

whatever this new side of you was, he liked it.

"aww, sounds like little princess s' mad no one's fuckin' her right. ya not gettin' fucked good, pipsqueak? haven't seen yer boy-toy around lately anyways.

"god, that's—that's none of your fucking business, fushiguro, shut up!"

"make me."

you blink.

a moment passes...and suddenly, your eyes are sharp.

ah...he might've fucked up with those two simple words.

"...you know what? i will, you annoying fuck."

catching toji off guard, you shove him back, taking advantage of him stumbling to walk inside his room as you slam the door shut behind you. a light chuckle escapes him, eyebrows raises. "so, the little kitten does have claws," he says with a grin.

his little roommate seems to have grown a pair of balls. what is she gonna do? hit him with pillows, curse him out, kick him out? pffft, if you kicked him out he would know you needed sleep, you both have been friends for too long...right?

as toji gets slightly worried he might've genuinely crossed a line (a bit too late to realize that, he realizes), you push him onto his bed, standing between his legs.

oh.

oh, he...he likes you from his angle, looking down at him with a little bit of a pout on those pretty full lips of yours as you try soooo hard to look angry and scary. but how can he be scared when his roommate, the one he's been fucking his hand for, looks so fucking cute?

curly hair a bit frizzy and messy (he's surprised you don't have your bonnet on yet), smelling like cocoa butter and that strawberry shortcake body spray that haunts him at night. and now you're in his fucking room. he'd never be able to escape it now.

fuck, every time you came close to him, he just suddenly couldn't process anything except you...he needed to get a grip.

propping himself up on his elbows, toji locks eyes with you, playing off his surprise. "what's gotten into ya, roomie? so aggressive, might have t' call shiu to come get you," he attempts to playfully poke. the tension in the room grows when you start to massage your temples, trying to calm down.

in.

out.

in.

out.

in-

"well, if lack of sleep is gettin' you all huffed up like this, i gotta couple o' ways t' tire ya out if y'need."

"oh my god, y'talk too fucking much," you grumble.

toji opens his mouth, ready to make another smart comment but he's shocked into silence when you tug your pajama pants off. there's no fucking way this is real. toji knows he has to be dreaming and knowing he'd be waking up with a wet spot in his pants if he didn't wake up soon.

and...are you wearing hello kitty boxer briefs too? god, you're such a fucking dork, it's cute and it's only making him harder in his pants.

but all of that is forgotten when you hook your fingers in the waistband of those stupid looking boxers and drag them down those pretty legs and toji gets a glimpse of your cute, pudgy tummy and...and....

fuck.

he doesn't even get a chance to think, he's so fucking hard. you're fucking half naked in his room right now and he can't tear his eyes away from how soft you look, that little patch of hair (is it shaped like a fucking heart? jesus fucking christ, you were serious about making yourself feel pretty everywhere), god, he's so fucked.

"shit. someone's eager. just couldn' wait to-"

"i'm so sick of you," you cut off, pushing him down onto the bed, crawling up his chest. you give him a look, one that he instantly understands and he smirks, giving you a nod before you continue moving until your hips hover over his face.

the smirk melts off his face when he realizes how real this is. your bare pussy is literally mere inches away from his mouth, so close he can practically taste you.

he's not gonna make it out of this alive, is he?

when you see him about to open his mouth to make another stupid comment, you move, pressing your hips down onto his face, shutting him up. "you wanna use your mouth so much, toj? i'll give you somethin' to use it on."

toji's response is just a muffled groan, his eyes fluttering a little. his hands move up to grip your thighs to steady you and also keep you on his face. he hasn't even tasted you, but shit, you smell so good.

wasting no more time, his tongue hungrily darts out, desperate to taste you. the moment he licks over your folds, he's sighing, melting into the bed. you're so soft, so sweet and he hasn't even gotten a taste from the main source. pulling you down onto his face a bit harder, toji finally swipes through your cunt and he's addicted.

"mmh, fuck," he grunts, burying his face as deep as possible. what the actual fuck are you made of, he thinks to himself. you taste so sweet, he's getting so dizzy as he starts to messily lap up all the slick dripping from your pussy. he barely pulls away from you to breathe, taking just a second to part, his hot breath fanning against the wet mess between your legs before he dives right back in, his low groans resonating against your core so nicely.

toji slurps loudly at your cunt, unable to stop himself from rolling his hips up, the friction of his sweats on his cock a sweet relief. he's so sure this is heaven, thanking whatever god there is for making you snap to this point but then you start talking.

you sigh, hips gently rocking against toji's face as your eyes open to look down your body at him. "mmn, 's better," you purr to yourself, little sweet noises of pleasure escaping you as one of your hands runs through his hair, giving him an encouraging little tug.

"should i just give you my pussy every night so you let me sleep, toj," you coo at him, a smug smile on your face. he didn't even notice his eyes slipped shut, but he opens them, flickering up to meet your lidded gaze and see the pride swirling around your eyes.

has his roommate always been like this? toji doesn't remember you being so fucking sexy like this. sure, you've always been attractive, and he's definitely had a thing for you for a while. but never in his life did he think his sweetheart of a friend would be smushing his face into her soft cunt.

his response is a little nod and an increase in his tongue's movements against your sloppy pussy. his lips move to suck right at your puffy clit, and he swears nearly cums when you gasp his name and whine, pulling him even deeper by his hair.

his train of thought is completely destroyed, he can't think of anything but you, can't feel anything but you, can't see, can't smell, can't taste anything but you.

he'd kill a man if it meant being able to taste you like this every fucking day.

"ohh, tojibaby, y'look s' pretty eating my pussy...poor thing, jus' needed something to shut you up for a bit."

scratch that, he'd kill SEVERAL men if it meant hearing you sing praises like that while you grind against his mouth, practically suffocating him with your thighs.

it's addicting, the way slick is gushing out of you each time he kisses your clit before sucking on it, coating his mouth. toji knows he looks a wreck, but he doesn't care, not when he's got you on him like this.

"d'you wanna make me cum, toj?" you ask it so teasingly, tugging his hair again and making him moan. "you're makin' out with my pussy...such a good boy for me."

those two words are his undoing, a visible shift in his energy. his eyes are sharp, and he almost looks angry as he grips your thighs even harder. "yes, fuck, yeah, mama, i wanna make you cum all over my face," he growls, tongue unrelenting when it slips back inside of your cunt, a nasty wet noise filling the air as you keen. he's fucking you with his tongue so messily, like he'll die if he stops tasting you.

good boy. you called him a good boy.

the compliment made something snap in him, the need to devour you whole the only thing on his mind. he's not just a good boy, no, he's your good boy, and the thought of being yours makes a thick bead of precum to drip out of his cock and stain his sweatpants.

he's brought back when you tug his head back to look at you, that thick tongue of his slipping out of you.

"i don't want you bringing anymore fucking women in my house, fushiguro," you warn, glaring down at him. you're serious. if you see another girl come in here at 11pm, you might actually kill this man in his sleep and not in a way he'd like

"i'm so tired of hearing their annoying moans. if you need a pussy to put your stupid dick in, just ask me, you fuckin' idiot." shit, you usually never talk like this, but toji likes this side of you. the usually sweet and kind roommate he was so used to was no where to be seen, replaced with this commanding and no-nonsense woman who knew what she wanted.

he can't even deny, this side of you is such a massive turn on.

"promise you're gonna let me fuckin' sleep n' i'll cum on your pretty mouth, fushiguro. otherwise, i'm getting up and i'll call shiu and see if he wants a taste."

oh, fuck no. no way in hell is toji letting that smug bastard see you like this, best friend or not.

he desperately nods, just wanting you to let go of his hair so he can dive back into your sweet pussy, licking his lips to taste you again.

"promise, mama, no more bringing other women, jus' you, don't need nobody else but you, y'got my word."

"that's my good boy."

once you let go of his hair, toji dives right back to the task at hand like man possessed. his lips press against your clit, kissing it with little wet smacks before sucking it into his mouth. his tongue doesn't give you a break, flicking over it rapidly. your moans, god, your moans are getting so loud and so pretty, his eyes never leaving your face as he watches you get closer and closer.

"c'mon, doll, please," he begs, a whininess in his voice as he massages your thick thighs, encouraging you to ride his face until you cream all over it. "give it t' me, give me what i wan', cum all over my face, baby girl."

feeling how you start to move your hips, a sweet little 't-toji, 'm gonna cum' falling from your lips, his hands grasp your ass as he seals his mouth over your cunt, sucking and licking desperately.

he needs it.

he needs you.

needs you so fucking bad.

feeling him mutter those words against your cunt makes you gasp and choke out his name, thighs squeezing around his head. "oh, fuck, toji, 'm cummin, baby!" your hands are both in his hair as you desperately hump against his mouth, body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

he doesn't stop, he keeps his mouth on you to make sure not a drop of your sweet cum goes to waste. he can feel it spilling out of his mouth, down his chin and neck. it's so messy, just how he likes it.

he watches you, how could he even think to take his eyes off you? you're so pretty, do you even realize how your hair got puffier and messier from your sweating, how a few of those tiny curls got stuck to your skin?

"g-god, fuck, toj, hoohmygod, your mouth 's so good, nngh!"

shit, you're pretty, so fucking pretty, what the fuck? god, you even cum pretty, toji's so fucked. why didn't he get you on his face like this sooner?

feeling your tremors start to subside, toji slows his tongue, switching to little licks and then to soft kisses against your clit, keeping you grounded as you come down from your high. the fact he didn't paint the inside of his sweatpants white is a miracle, but he knows the front is wet and stained.

when he feels you relax, toji guides you off his face and down to sit on his chest. he can't help the twinkle in his eye, grinning at you proudly. the bottom half of his face is a mess, covered in his spit and your slick. you like this look on him.

"has anyone ever told you that you've got t'most addicting pussy ever?"

you huff a laugh, urging him to move up further on the bed until his back rests against the pillows. he was so annoying, and you hated how attractive it made him. “you’re too awake for my liking," you sarcastically huff, giving him a sweet little pout that makes him feel a bit more things than he probably should.

tugging his sweatpants down, you let out a little noise of surprise.

ah.

it all makes sense now. no wonder those girls sounded like they were dying.

"toji, what the actual hell is wrong with you?!"

"don't get mad at me, ma, i didn't magically make my dick this size! i just got lucky!"

"lucky?! girl, this is a curse, how the fuck did those girls fit this thing in them?!"

"they didn't."

that makes you pause. they couldn't get him all the way inside? glancing down at his cock, heavy in your hand, as he helps to get his pants completely off, you're not surprised. but you could take it, right?

...guess you need to find out.

shifting your hips, you move to swipe his cock through your slick pussy, a smug look on your face when he sharply inhales. "i'm gettin' my revenge, pretty boy, for all the sleep you made me lose. 's late, anyways, yeah? don't we need to sleep soon?"

the head of his cock catches onto your entrance, causing you both to sigh in pleasure. this would be a stretch, but you're determined by pure spite from toji and those women keeping you up at night.

while you're teasing him, toji is a breath away from losing his mind. the sight of you taking charge, hair completely fluffy now from the humidity in the room, has his cock pulsing in your soft hand. he's so sure that you're not gonna be able to take it all in. shit, he's wondering if he should stop you, tell you he's gotta prep you first or else it's gonna hurt, but you use your free hand to grab his face, making him look at you as an evil grin breaks out on your face.

"i'm gonna put you t' sleep with my pussy. uhm, something something, call that pussy nyquil," you giggle, slipping the tip of his cock inside of your wet, tight little cunt.

melting, that's the best way toji can describe the feeling of behind inside you, even if it's just the tip. "jesus," he hisses, his hands coming up to grip your hips. you're so hot inside, your tight walls are so snug around him. there's no way this tight cunt of yours is gonna be able to fit him in, there's not fucking way.

despite that, he finds himself guiding you down onto him, trying his hardest not to buck up into you. but the sensation of your soft, gummy walls squeezing him so perfectly is making it so challenging to stay still.

"fuck, mama...shit," he groans, watching as he is sucked into your warm pussy. once you get halfway, he expects you to stop, and that's usually where they all do. he was fine with that, more than fine, because he's never been inside someone so fucking tight.

but then, you raise your hips until just the tip is inside, and with a devious little giggle, you slam your hips down, gasping when you get him in all the way. damn, you realize it was a stupid idea, the stretch making you feel almost sick, but the reaction you get out of toji is worth it.

his head falls back against the headboard, and he whimpers, eyes rolling back into his skull, his lip pulled between his teeth as he tries to relearn how to think.

“i'm gonna make you cum and ‘m gonna fuck you stupid for not letting me sleep, fushiguro.” giving yourself a bit to get used to his size, you slowly started moving, seeing what angle worked best for you.

meg the stallion, i'm gonna make you proud of me, you think with a little smirk before you steady yourself with your hands on his chest and start to bounce your hips, your cute little threat only making his cock throb inside you.

"'m gonna make you regret bein' an asshole to your pretty roommate, pretty boy."

it doesn't take long for it to get messy, for it to get so fucking sloppy and noisy. each time you bring your hips down, the room is filled with a wet smack. you've really made a mess out of him, your sticky wet coating his fat cock and his lap, thick strands of it connecting you to him with each raise of your hips before you bring them right back down.

toji can't breathe, finally tilting his head back up as his eyes are glued to where his cock slips in and out of you. you're taking him, taking all of him into your sticky cunt and, shit, he thinks he might die like this.

"fuck, fuck, mama, c'mon, don' do this t' me, relax, please, fuckin' strangling my cock, oh my god—"

he's whining, it's so cute. who knew you could get toji fushiguro, mr. tough guy, to crumble under you like this so easily? it's so wet and gushy, the sound of your thick body smacking back down on his only making his insides twist in pleasure. he can feel how fucking wet you are, dripping down his cock, down his balls, it's so unfair.

"tojiii, talk t' me," you coo at him, your sweet voice bringing him back. "don't tell me my pussy's making you dumb already, jus' started."

you did, you're literally fucking him dumb, and he doesn't know what to do or what to say, but hearing you say his name like that in-between moans as you bounce your hips up and down his throbbing shaft has his babbling in an instant.

"god, this cunt 's perfect, baby, s' fucking perfect."

“yeah? y’like my pussy, toj? like my pretty cunt creaming on you?” you roll your hips, a pretty moan leaving you when his tip nudges against that soft spot perfectly. “f-fuck, you really are big...poor thing, no one could get it in all the way? am, mh, am i the first t’ take this fat cock t’ the hilt, tojibaby?”

you lean forward, hands moving from his chest to around his neck as you roll your hips, swiveling them in ways that have him gushing precum all over the insides of your cunt. the squelches your cunt makes with each roll is so fucking sinful and so nasty.

"y-yeah, mama, she feels s' good around me, all tight and warm, milking my cock like it's made just for you."

god, you smell so good...he can still smell your perfume and the sweet blueberry scent of your leave-in. you smell so sweet and taste so sweet too, he's so fucking lucky to have you fucking him like this. toji's hands move from your hips to your ass, helping you fuck yourself on his dick, groaning your name.

"god, you're the first to take it all, y'got me so fucking deep in that sloppy lil' cunt that y'can feel me in your stomach."

you giggle between moans, pressing your forehead against his. "y'so cute, toji, such a good boy f' me, yeah? feels so much better knowin' you can just tell me if you need me to put you to sleep, right?"

he groans, nodding as his eyes flutter closed again. "y-yeah, yes, baby, feels s' much better," he admits, breathless as he starts to get close. he can feel you getting tighter, getting wetter, and he'll be damned if he cums before you do.

"aww, listen t' you," you say with a little whine, your dominant mask starting to ebb away as you start to grow weaker and weaker. it's starting to feel good, really good, to the point where you can't think either, and you don't know how much more of this you can do. "m-my pretty boy, my good boy, f-fuckin' me s...s-so good..."

the moment he picks up the whininess in your voice, toji is alert, looking into your eyes to find that the pleasure is finally catching up to you, too. "yeah? yeah, mama? she's feelin' good? fuck, 'm gonna fuckin' fill you up, baby, gotta cream this pretty pussy so deep that she feels it f' days," he grunts, mouth open as he pants against your lips.

they look so pretty, he wonders if you taste like that lip balm you always carry, if your tongue is as sweet as you are, if your plump lips are as soft as they look. the thought of them pressing against his is what breaks him, and he's so embarrassed at the noise he makes before leaning back against the pillows and planting his feet into the mattress.

"i gotta fuck you, gotta fuck you good, 'm sorry, 'm so sorry, baby, promise i'll let you sleep, promise i'll be good for ya, okay? mm, fuck, c'mon, let toji make it better, gonna kiss your cunt with my cock and make it up t' ya."

toji fucks into your hole desperately, groaning at the loud wet plaps of his hips smacking against yours. your moans, god, your moans, they're so pretty, you're so pretty. he can see your tits bouncing against the fabric of the shirt you have on, and he curses, so fucking mad he didn't have you take it off. but he doesn't care, not right now, not when he sees how gorgeous you look.

he's so fucking prideful when he sees how poofed out your hair is, bouncing with each thrust up into you. "y're so fucking pretty, c'mere."

one of his hands grabs you by the back of the head and smushes his lips against yours, hungry as he licks over them before shoving his stupidly thick tongue inside your mouth. the kiss is just as messy as the rest of you, and the pitiful little moan you give has him reeling.

"i-i'm, 'm gonna cum, toj," you whisper against his mouth, nails biting into his shoulders as you do your best to match his pace. you're gonna cum, he's gonna make you cum, you're about to cum all over his fucking dick, jesus christ.

"fuck, you're so hot, so cute, mama, my pretty girl. need ya t' cum, dolly, can y'do that for me? please, baby, cum on me, make a mess s' i can fill you up an' apologize like i promised," he rambles before kissing you again, biting your lip before running his tongue over it.

it's so close, you can taste it. it's so unfair how big his cock is, how you can feel every vein and throb of it inside of you, how you can feel his hot precum smudging all over your velvety walls.

the realization that he's inside you raw has you moaning so sweetly, and your pussy is gripping him for dear life as you dig your nails into his shoulders even more, head falling forward. "t-toji, 'm, 'm gonna—f-fuck!"

you're cumming, you're cumming on him, and it feels so fucking good. you're creaming all over his lap, and your crying and moaning his name so sweetly he feels like he's gonna pass out. "baby, babyyy, no, lemme see, lemme see you cum," he begs, the hand in your hair tilting your head back up and the view he gets has his hips stuttering inside you.

your eyes are unfocused, long lashes wet from tears as you pant and whimper for him, all for him. and when you make eye contact with him, he feels your gummy walls squeeze him so tight.

"oh, fuck, yes, mama, jus' like that. keep cummin' on me, keep goin', 'm so close, gonna cum, gonna cum in this pretty pussy s' fuckin' deep you feel it in your tummy," toji babbles before he's losing himself too, pressing your head against his chest as he fucks into you, savoring your overstimulated cries for him. "'s gonna go deep, so fuckin' deep an' i'm gonna fuckin' eat it outta you, just like y-you fuckin' deserve—!"

with a pathetic sounding groan of your name, he's giving one, two, three, four hard, deep thrusts, moaning as he pumps his thick load into you, feeling your oversensitive pussy milking him dry. "g-good boy, g'fucking boy, tojiii," you whimper, moving from his chest to pepper kisses all over his face, moaning softly as you feel his hot cum coating your walls.

his mind is so blissfully blank that he doesn't even realize he's shaking a little bit from how hard he just came. cooing happily at him, you cup his cheeks, trying to bring him back down to you. "come back t' me tojiiii, don't die on me, roomie!"

still reeling from his insanely intense orgasm, manages a little chuckle, his hand moving from your ass to under your shirt, stroking your back. "'m here, 'm here, promise...i just...shit. ya fuckin' drained me, girly. what the hell are you?"

you laugh, kissing the corner of his mouth before nestling under his chin to catch your breath. "I'm your damn friend who happens to be the roommate you have been tormenting by not letting me sleep, dumbass."

"heh. fair point."

you both stay like this for a bit, just resting a little and trying to catch your breath. except...toji's eyes feel a little heavy, and he feels himself drifting away. "there you goooo," you coo, hand running through his hair. "told ya i'd put you to sleep."

"yeah, yeah, you were right," he grumbles and opens an eye, hand coming up to pinch your cheek. "jus' a lil' nap, okay? we still gotta get you cleaned up. after all, i promised i'd clean my cum outta ya, right?"

"my god, toji, you are nasty."

"but you like ittttt."

you couldn't stop yourself from laughing because, yes, you did. you liked it a lot.

soon, the room falls quiet as toji's breathing falls into rhythm with yours, the rise and fall of his chest steady and slow. his mind is still a bit dazed, and he can't help but get a little flustered as he realizes how badly he's wrapped around your little finger. the thought is only further confirmed when he feels his heart squeeze just a bit when he notices you fell asleep on his chest.

he wraps his arms around you in a gentle embrace, huffing to himself. yeah, so what he was whipped, he finally got you in his arms, so he sees it as a win.

as sleep finally starts to creep up on him, he presses a little kiss to your forehead, leaning back against the pillows and shutting his eyes. just a little nap, and then he'll get you cleaned up and make sure you accept his apology for everything he's put you through.

...he just hopes you won't be too grumpy when you realize you fell asleep without your bonnet on.

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ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's tags : @satoruwiki @llllllllllllloser @screampied @abcdbleh @vicfuentesfangirl @sakurapeach @ohsuguru @crywolfix @naughtygobbo @aura88967 @jeanine-gt @tananaxx @tojancy @happymangosstuff

[jazziejax]

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐤 ‘𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Cowboy!Terry Richmond x Black!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - They had always had this lingering tension between them. But not it seems that whatever feelings were there have now boiled over and at the Sweet Tooth Saloon, things get a little hot.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - 18+!, MINORS DNI, Heavy tension, sensual dancing, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), soft!Terry, mild dominance, tender aftercare, implied feelings

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - since yall only like me when I write about Aaron Pierre 🙄 I’m not good at wiring smut and I don’t even like doing it but this is something to hold yall over in case I drop off the fave if the earth soon. I have Finals next week :( UNEDITED, sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes. There probably many because my laptop over heated…also, I can’t write a short fic to save my life.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭- 9,567+

The small bell above the door jingled as the large man stepped into the beauty salon, ducking slightly to avoid the low-hanging dried herbs strung up near the entrance. The scent of lavender and bergamot mixed with the faintest trace of hot iron and other chemicals, the kind used to curl or straighten a lady’s hair.

He had never set foot in a place like this before. Not because he didn’t believe in looking presentable—he just never trusted another person with a razor near his throat. And, to be honest, he didn't mind looking rough sometimes, but he was starting to become a little self-conscious whenever a woman looked at him for too long. Especially her. But the dust of the road clung to him, so his beard and his hair had grown past the point of comfort as he and his comrades spent more time than they thought in Sugar Cane Creek. Everything needed a trim. At least, the mirror at the bar last night told him as much, and Jim had made a comment about him “starting to look like a wild man”.

Terry didn’t care much what people thought, but he cared about feeling like himself.

A woman stood behind the counter, fingers-deep in a bowl of soapy water, scrubbing a comb. The early morning light that poured through the shop window was caught in her dark hair, making it shine like polished mahogany. She looked up, recognizing him instantly—because who in Sugar Cane Creek didn’t know who he rode with? But she didn’t stiffen or frown like some folk did when they saw a man from the Nat Love Gang.

Instead, she wiped her hands on a cloth, tilted her head, and smiled just enough to let him know she wasn’t afraid.

“Well, well." She mused, setting her rag aside. “Never thought I’d see the day you walked in here.” She said, a soft grin on her face. Her voice was as rich and smooth as honey fresh from the comb.

Terry removed his hat with a sigh, brushing a hand over his curls that had gotten a little thick on top of his head. “I think I'm in need of a trim.”

She raised a brow. “Hair or beard?”

“Both.”

Her gaze flickered over him, lingering on the rough edges of his beard. “I’ll say. Starting to look real close to a mountain man.” She quipped. Terry, however, didn’t smile, but something in his dark eyes did shift, a flicker of amusement that only she would catch. They had always danced around one another. Something they had been doing for a while now—exchanging looks in town while Terry earned his keep over at Cotton's and she began to start her work day at The Blush and Brush Parlor, brushing shoulders when they shared time at The Sweet Tooth Saloon. He was a quiet man, but she liked that about him. A man who didn’t talk just to fill space.

Her eyes flickered over his face, then lower to where his suede, dark brown, coat stretched broad across his shoulders. “Take your coat off." She said, already gathering her scissors. “You might be here a while.”

Terry hesitated, looking down at the shorter woman with a tired look. "Don't talk about me like I'm some sort of ruffian, now." He said, his voice deep and his country drawl thick. The brown skinned woman gave him a faux pout with a small laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, bright eyes, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Now take a seat and let’s get you looking decent again, okay?" She grinned, playing coy with him. Terry didn't flinch at the name, but a small twitch was his lip was noticeable to her before he then shrugged out of his coat and laid it over the empty chair not far from him. He then sat down in the chair she stood in front of, allowing the woman to drape a sheet over his front, tying it at the back of his neck with nimble fingers before combing through his hair. She was gentle, but precise—no wasted movements, no hesitation.

"You know how to do men's hair?" He asked.

"Yup." She said. “Been cutting my daddy’s since I was eight. Used to say I was better than any barber in town.” He could hear the smile in her tone at the thought, though it veered off into something a little sad.

Terry hummed, the closest he’d come to laughter anyways, but he could also tell that the subject was a little sensitive to her. He let her work, let the soft snip of the scissors fill the quiet. Every so often, he felt the barest brush of her fingertips against his skin. He could also feel her large chest brush against the back of his neck every now and then, causing him to look up into the mirror in front of him, watching the woman work. He wasn’t a man who flinched easy, but something about that gentle touch made him tense in a way he couldn’t explain.

The shop was quiet except for the snip of her scissors. She worked with practiced ease, combing through his hair, trimming away the weight. Every so often, her fingers brushed the nape of his neck, light and deliberate. She felt the way he tensed, barely noticeable, but there.

“Relax, cowboy." She teased. “I ain’t gon' hurt you.” She said softly.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, settling into the chair.

She then suddenly grabbed the side of his head, straightening his head and looking at him though the mirror. He wasn't quite sure what she was doing, but he didn't question it as he watched her intensely though the mirror.

“Alright." She murmured after a while. “That’s the hair. Now the tricky part.”

She brush the excess hair from him before she turned to the washbasin, dipping a cloth into warm water before wringing it out. He expected her to hand it to him, but instead, she pressed it against his face herself. She held his head steady with her other hand, gripping his chin. And he couldn't help but wonder if she did the same procedures with all her clients, because even though his hair looked better than before, the way she was touching felt oddly intimate. The heat from her touch as well as the warm cloth sank into his skin, soothing the roughness of travel and the dry air. He hadn’t realized how much he needed that.

She worked carefully, rubbing a mixture of soap and oil into his beard before picking up the straight razor. She tested the blade against her thumb. She hummed before moving over to the leather strap against the wall to give it a quick sharpen. She tested it again, obviously to her liking since she walked back over and tipped his chin up with two fingers.

“You ever had a woman shave you before?” She asked, looking up from inspecting his unruly beard to lock eyes with his bright ones. It was a simple question, calling for a simple answer, but their gazes were intense. Terry shook his head, just barely, caught in her big eyes and soft touch as he licked his lips.

His response, or lack there of, caused her to grin. “Good. Means you’ll keep still.” She said, only leaning in briefly as she joked with him, but her sudden contact made allowed him to catch a whiff of sweet scent like, something like Ambrosia.

“Lean back,” She instructed, her foot hovering over the pump that allowed the chair to recline. Terry hesitated, blinking at her. It's not that he didn't trust her, he'd known her for quite some time now. He trusted her hands in his hair, but a blade near his throat? That was different. He never trusted anyone that much, not even his closest comrades. It's the reason why all his self-cut's were a little choppy. Something that wouldn't have mattered if he was still up to his outlaw duties and on the road. But now he was spending his time in saloon's and around beauties they didn't offer at home.

She caught the shift in his posture, her smirk turning knowing. “You scared?” She questioned.

Terry met her gaze, his own steady. “No.”

“Then sit still.” She said before she pushed down on the pump under the chair, allowing it to recline. And that he did, opening his growing facial hair to her, ample room left in case of his worst fear. But he had no reason to fear her and her intentions, because her blade was steady. Her hands were sure, and he trusted her, even though he had no reason to.

The razor glided slow, careful. She kept her grip steady, the blade sharp and sure as it skimmed along his jaw. The heat of the late afternoon pressed into the shop, thick and lazy, but it wasn’t what made her skin prickle. It wasn’t what sent that slow, creeping flush up her neck, settling warm in her cheeks.

No, that was him. It was his eyes that were watching her.

They were unblinking, steady, tracking her every move like a man who had nowhere else to be. He was always like this—silent, still, and always looking—but something about it felt different now. Maybe because they were closer than usual. Maybe because she could feel the heat radiating off him, could see the slow rise and fall of his chest under the weight of her touch.

She set her jaw, trying not to let on just how much she felt him. The every move he made under her touch.

Instead, she focused.

“Bet you’re the kind of man who don’t like feeling vulnerable." She murmured, trying to make small talk with staring man.

Terry’s eyes stayed on her. “You talk too much.” He said, quirking a brow at her. She chuckled, dragging the blade along his jawline. “Maybe. But you don’t talk enough, so it evens out.”

Her hand shifted, fingers pressing just beneath his chin as she tilted his head for a better angle. He was warm beneath her touch, his pulse steady, but she felt it jump when her nails scraped lightly against his throat. She tilted his chin just slightly, her fingers light under his jaw, and dragged the blade down his throat in a slow, deliberate motion. He let her, not moving, not even swallowing, though she could see the tight pull of his muscles beneath his skin, right at the peek of his shirt.

She shouldn’t be looking there, but how could she not? This hunk of a man was lying below her, almost open and willing as he gazed up her with a soft look in his eyes. The air between them was thick, something unspoken curling at the edges. Her grip on the razor tightened just a little as she worked, and his gaze burned hotter for it.

“You always watch this hard?” She asked finally, keeping her tone light as she wiped the hair she cut on a rag after shaking it off in the water basin and then wiping it away. She glanced up some, catching sight of his lips—pink, full, and slightly parted—tipped up at the corner. “Always.” That single word, rough and low, sent something straight to her stomach.

She swallowed as she continued working, trying her best to focus, steadying herself. She wasn’t about to let him get the better of her, no matter how much heat curled between them. But she also took her time finishing the shave, enjoying the rare sight of the outlaw that is Terry Richmond—silent, still, and at her mercy.

“You’re awful quiet for a man with so much to say in his eyes." She murmured, brushing away the lingering shaving foam with the pad of her thumb. Her hand lingered a second too long, caught in the shape of his jaw. Terry still didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just watched her.

“Didn’t know I needed to talk." He said, and she could’ve sworn she saw his blue eyes flicker to a sea green as the light hit them. The warmth in her cheeks…and else where, deepened. She pulled back, making quick work of the last stroke of hair she had to eliminate, but her hands weren’t as steady as before.

And he knew that.

By the time she was done, the shop felt too small, too warm, too much. She grabbed the cloth and wiped his face cleaning, looking at her finished product around his mouth. Her eyes met his briefly as she took in the goatee she set him up with, a small smile beginning to grace his feature as his eyes bounced across her face. She cleared her throat softly, wiping an imaginary spot of lather from his jaw and leaned back to admire her work. “There. You clean up nice, cowboy.” She said with a grin.

She turned, quickly wiping the blade clean, setting it aside, and moving a few steps away to compose herself as she gathered the material she sat out in front of the mirror.

But then she felt him stand up from the chair, taking the cape off. She felt the shift in the air when he got close—just behind her. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him at her back. She glanced up, watching as he inspected his face in the mirror from behind her. He rubbed his large hands across his face, taking in his fresh look. He only did that for a few seconds before his gazed dropped to the round woman below him. He her her eyes in the mirror, nothing but an exchange between their eyes. She was the only to look away first, cleaning the station.

Terry sat the hair cape he had in his hands in the chair, looking as himself one last time before he hummed in content. He place his hand on her shoulder, large over her breakers that was far from small. “Good job.” He said, voice low near her ear. He then stepped away, his hand dragging down and across the back of her waist as he moved over to shoulder on his coat. She froze at the feeling of him touching her, and then gulped at his fingers tracking off her body. She looked up, looking herself in the eye and blinking, making sure this was all real, before looking in the mirror to watch him put the coat over his large frame.

Terry ran a hand over his chin, feeling the smoothness. He met her gaze, something unspoken passing between them.

“How much?” He asked after putting on his hat, straightening his clothing, and she tried not to get distract by the way he grabbed his belt, using it to adjust his pants. She turns, tiring her head at him as she gave him a noticeable once over. “Hmm.” She stated with a hum, placing her hands on her hips as she stepped closer. “Well, if you were any other customer, I’d charge five cent. But for you, Terry Richmond, I’ll charge you three.” She smiled.

Terry’s lips twitched, his expression unreadable as he glanced off into the distance out side of the parlor’s windows. He adjusted his belt, the large buckle dinging softly while the leather shifted under his grip. His eyes, sharp and knowing, flicked back to her.

“Three cents, huh?” His voice was smooth, lazy, but there was an edge to it—like he was turning something over in his mind. “Mighty generous of you. Can’t help but to think I’m special.” He quipped, though his tone never really wavered from his deep baritone and his serious manner.

She lifted a brow, arms still crossed as she tilted her head at him. “Well, I’m feelin’ kind.” She smiled, playing along to the game she knew she started, all for the hell of it.

That little smirk of his deepened. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, closing some of the space she’d put between them. She felt it immediately—his warmth, his presence. It was impossible not to.

“You always this kind? Or only to me?” His voice had dropped, rough and low, like gravel dipped in honey.

Her pulse skipped. She held his gaze, not backing down, but he knew what he was doing. He knew the way his voice curled around her, the way his eyes made her skin prickle. Her breath caught, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she kept her expression even, playful, letting her smile linger as she tilted her chin up at him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She murmured, voice smooth as satin. “Mr. Special.” She finished, a certain glint in her eye as she tilted her chin just slightly—like she wasn’t the least bit affected. Like she wasn’t keenly aware of just how close he was now.

Terry huffed a quiet chuckle, but there was something else in his eyes—something sharp, knowing. His gaze flickered down, just briefly at the Lowe part of her face, before settling back on hers. His presence was suffocating in the best way, heavy and warm, filling up the little space between them.

“I would.” He admitted, voice slow and deliberate, like he was testing the weight of the words. “Got a feelin’ the answer might keep me up at night.” He said, crossing his arms.

She let out a soft laugh, looking away from his heavy stare as she shook her head. The heat curling in her stomach was unmistakable. He was good—too good. And she didn’t now how’s long she last in this little game they always played before she pounced on him.

“Don’t go losin’ sleep over me, Richmond.” She teased, even as her pulse thrummed in her ears. She breezed past him, making sure her side brushed against his as she moving over to the small counter on the left side of the door. His eyes trailed down her figure once her back was to him, taking in her round and voluptuous curves from behind. “Wouldn’t wanna be the cause of your troubles.” She finished as she turned to look at him from behind the counter. She leaned her weight in the counter, her hand clasped together with her forearms resting on cold wood. She watched as Terry stood there for a moment, the look in his eye darker than before as he stated at her. He then blinked before moving, not taking his eyes from her with his pace slow and deliberate before he stood on the other side of the counter, looking down at the woman.

Terry tilted his head slightly, studying her like he was seeing something no one else had the sense to look for.

“Too late for that.” He said. The words were quiet, but they landed heavy between them, sending a shiver straight down her spine. Before she could find something clever to throw back at him after gulping, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver dollar, and placed it on the counter in front of her hands. His fingers brushed hers, Cushing him to glance down at the small touch.

He then looked back up, his blue eyes staring into her brown ones. “That oughta cover the next few visits.” He said, voice even, but there was that flicker of something else in his eyes again—something smug, something dangerous.

She laughed, shaking her head. “That’s too much.”

Terry simply shook his head, glancing away from her. “Nah.”

She narrowed her gaze at him, lips parting slightly, but he was already shrugging into his coat, the weight of his scent—tobacco and something deep, something him—lingering in the air. “And here I thought you didn’t like to talk.” She mused, watching him, arms placed on the counter as she thought over all their silent but pleasant times together in the Saloon while the rest of the gang chatted.

Terry confined to gaze at her, his eyes taking across her face. “I don’t.” He said, his smirk lazy, knowing. He paused, casting her a slow, lingering glance—one that made her stomach twist up in knots. He then turned to the door, but before pausing and casting one last glance over his shoulder. His gaze swept over her—slow, deliberate, enough to make the air feel thick with something unspoken. Then, after a beat—“But you make it worth it, Mrs.Special.” Then he tipped his hat and walked out.

And then, just like that, he was gone, leaving her standing there, staring after him, her heart racing, her face burning hotter than a summer’s day in Cane Creek, her fingers gripping the counter a little tighter than before and the lingering ghost of his eyes still burning against her skin.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The Sweet Tooth Saloon was alive tonight—thick with the scent of whiskey, tobacco, and the heat of too many bodies pressed close together. Laughter and conversation swirled beneath the hum of string instruments, boots tapping against the wooden floor. The music was thick, rolling through the air like smoke, wrapping around every body packed into the space. Heat clung to the walls, thick with whiskey, sweat, and the deep, throaty hum of anticipation.

But all of it quieted—just a little—when she stepped onto the stage. Her deep red dress hugging her curves, sinching in her waist and pushing up her breast.

The pianist struck a slow, rolling tune, and a hush fell over the crowd like a held breath. She let them wait, dragging her fingertips along the microphone stand, tilting her head slightly as she took in the sea of faces before her. Then, just when the tension thickened, she let her voice pour out, smooth and rich like warm molasses.

The song was sultry, the kind that curled its way around a man’s spine and made him lean in just a little closer, made him think about things he shouldn’t in a room full of people. And Lord, did they lean in. The entire saloon was hanging onto her voice, watching the way she swayed, the way her fingers trailed down her own arm, the way she made every lyric sound like a promise whispered against bare skin.

Men leaned closer, their drinks forgotten, their gazes fixed on the woman commanding the stage. Her voice was rich, full of promise, of something dark and sweet.

But there was only one pair of eyes she felt, steady and unwavering through the thick haze of smoke and lantern light. In the very back, where the light barely reached, where the smoke curled the thickest—she saw him.

Terry Richmond.

He was leaning against the bar, broad and still, his hat tilted low but not enough to hide the way his bright eyes. He was half-shrouded in shadow, his bright blue gaze cutting through the dim like a knife. He wasn’t drinking, wasn’t talking—just watching.

Her heart skipped a little.

Heat licked up her spine at the intensity of it, but she didn’t let it shake her. She didn’t falter under his gaze. Instead, she let it fuel her, let it shape the way she sang, the way her lips curved around the lyrics, the way she dragged her fingers over the curve of her own waist. If he wanted to look, she was gonna give him something worth looking at.

She kept singing, dragging out the final note, letting it settle over the room like the last flicker of a candle before it goes out. By the time the last note left her lips, the saloon erupted in cheers, men whistling, clapping, stomping their boots against the floor. She gave a slow, knowing smile, dipping into a slight bow before stepping down from the stage.

She didn’t make a show of looking for him, but she knew exactly where she was going.

The moment she reached the bar, a whiskey was already waiting for her—on the house, as always. She took a slow sip, letting the burn settle deep before finally turning, finally meeting his gaze up close. The bar was crowded, but somehow, the space next to Terry was clear. He didn’t look at her right away, just lifted a hand slightly to catch the bartender’s attention. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just looked at her, that same unreadable expression on his face.

“Whiskey?” He asked, voice low, smooth like dark molasses as he gave a small gesture to the glass she already downed. She leaned against the counter, close enough that the edge of her skirt brushed his leg. “You know me too well.” She grinned, already feeling the buzz that the alcohol as giving her. At that, Terry slid a silver coin across the counter, and within seconds, a glass was in front of her. She looked away from him as she took a slow sip, letting the burn settle in her chest. She could feel him watching her, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. That was the thing about Terry—he could say more in a look than most men could in a thousand words.

“You always stare this hard, Richmond?” She asked, looking over at him with a tilt of her head once she had enough of the hard liquor, her voice still thick with the remnants of the song. His lips quirked, just barely, his eyes drifting over her figure. “Only when I like what I see.”

Her stomach flipped at his words, but she kept her expression even, playful. “That so?” She asked, a smirk in her lip and quirk of her brow. “That’s so.” He repeated in confirmation, then kicking his lips. Terry then leaned in just a fraction, close enough that she could feel the heat of him, close enough that she caught the scent of tobacco and cedarwood clinging to his coat.

“So much so.” He murmured, “That I might just have to get my hands on it.” Her breath caught, pulse quickening, but before she could say something sharp, something smart—before she could even decide if she wanted to—Terry’s head tilted slightly, his gaze flickering to the dance floor.

A new song had started.

Something slow. Something meant to be felt more than heard. She barely had time to set her glass down before Terry’s hand slid to her waist.

Without another word, without giving her the chance to refuse, his other hand reached for hers, his grip warm and sure as he led her away from the bar. Her breath hitched. Her heart pounded as she let him pull her into him, his palm settling low against her back. He didn’t ask. Didn’t say a damn word. Just pulled her onto the dance floor.

If he wanted to play with fire, she was more than happy to let him burn.

The moment they stepped into the space, bodies made room for them. Not out of fear, not tonight, but out of knowing. Because everyone in Sugar Cane Creek had eyes. And at that moment, everyone had seen the way Terry Richmond looked at her. The way she looked back.

The tension wrapped around them thick as smoke, curling in the air, pressing against their skin.

Terry moved slow, deliberate, his hand firm at the small of her back, the other clasping hers as he pulled her close—closer than what was proper, closer than what was wise. She let him, her breath shuddering as she settled into him, the warmth of his body seeping into hers. The saloon blurred around them, the lights dim, the chatter distant. None of it mattered. Not when his blue eyes were locked onto hers, not when she could feel the slow drag of his thumb against the back of her hand.

“You dance?” She murmured, her voice teasing, her lips dangerously close to his jaw. She felt him take in a breath with her chest against hers, and if she paused attention, she could’ve sworn she felt the way his heart was beating. “Only when I got reason to.” He answered, his voice a low rumble against her skin. “You given me plenty.” He said, his lips close to her ear as they danced.

She swallowed that his tone so close, heat curling in her belly. “Is that so?”

His fingers flexed against her back, pulling her that last inch closer. His breath, warm and slow, ghosted over her cheek. “Mmhmm.” He hummed with a lick of his lips, the sound causing his body to rumble against hers. She exhaled softly, turning her head just enough that their noses brushed, just enough that if either of them leaned in—just a little—they’d be past the point of no return.

The music swelled, the rhythm thick and slow, wrapping around them like a promise. The way they moved now—close, slow, like something dangerous just beneath the surface—only confirmed what they both had long suspected.

His hand was firm against the small of her back, his other clasping hers as he led her through the steps. It wasn’t a fast dance, nothing rowdy or wild, but it was just as electric. Every turn, every shift, had them pressing together. His breath skimmed the shell of her ear when he leaned in, his grip tightening just enough to let her feel the strength in his arms.

“You always hold a woman this close when you dance?” She whispered, looking up at him through her lashes. Terry’s lips barely curved, his smirk lazy, knowing. “Only when I don’t plan on lettin’ go.” He said, his eyes inspecting every crevice her face had to offer. He didn’t know if he’d bee be this close to her again, and he was taking advantage of the blessing he had to hold her in this way, and gaze at her face as he did.

Her breath hitched.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them blinked.

Lord, the way he watched her. He looked at her as if she was the only thing in the room. Like he was memorizing her in real time. She met his gaze, bold as ever, and let her fingers trail slow up his shoulder, tracing the line of his coat until her nails met the hot skin of his neck. A muscle in his jaw ticked at that. His grip on her waist flexed. They didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.

And then, just when she thought he might tip his head and close the space, just when she thought she might lose her damn mind waiting for it—

He pulled her into the next step of the dance, smooth as silk, a satisfied glint in those blue eyes of his. He was teasing her. Daring her.

If he wanted a game, she was more than happy to play.

“Oh, is that how you want to play?” She asked, feigning innocence while her pulse quickened with anticipation.

Terry’s smirk returned, a challenge wrapped in his expression. “You started it, darlin’.” He replied, stepping into her space that was no longer available due to him, their bodies flush against one another. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, lulling her in despite the playful facade they each wore. He controlled their movements with a firm yet gentle lead, the world around them fading as she lost herself in the intensity of his gaze and the cadence of their bodies moving in sync.

She narrowed her eyes, but her smirk was knowing. Two could play that game. She let her body press just a little closer, her curves molding against the hard lines of him, her breath a warm whisper against his cheek. He swallowed, his fingers tightening against her waist, a sharp inhale the only sign of restraint.

She felt it, that slip of control, and it sent something hot through her veins. "Careful, cowboy." She murmured, voice all honey and silk. "You might not want to let go, but I ain't so sure you can handle holdin’ on."

His eyes then darkened. His grip flexed, strong fingers digging into the curve of her waist, keeping her against him like he had no intention of letting her go. Not now. Not ever. Now, Terry didn’t scare easy. Didn’t flinch and didn’t fold to many.

But her?

She was dangerous in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Her voice, all thick honey and slow-drawn silk, wrapped around him, testing, teasing, tempting as it spilling through his ear and ran though his veins like it was his blood. Keeping his heart pumping. He could feel the shape of her, soft and warm against the hard planes of his body, the sway of their dance turning into something far more dangerous, far more intimate.

He leaned in, just enough that his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “You think I can’t handle you?” He asked, his hands drifting lower as he practically engulfed her in his body. She let out a breathy little laugh, conveniently covering the way she took in a sudden breath at his touch, one that made his pulse jump, made his restraint strain at the edges. "Wouldn’t be the first man to try and fail, cowboy.” She whispered to him, her fingers brushing against the nape of his neck, feeling the freshly shaved haircut he had gotten only hours prior.

Terry exhaled through his nose, amused, darkly so.

She was pushing him, daring him. And he welcomed the challenge. So he let his hand slide lower, fingers grazing the base of her spine, just above the curve of her ass, applying the slightest pressure that had her breath catching. She was quick, though. Slipping her arms around his shoulders, she placed her hand on the back of his head, nails scratching ever so lightly. That same muscle in his jaw ticked again.

Her smirk widened.

That was it.

The last frayed thread of his patience snapped.

Without warning, Terry spun her, pressing her back against his front, effectively caging her in. The movement had her chest rising, her lips parting, and damn if that wasn’t the prettiest sight he’d ever seen as he looked down at her. His voice dropped, a low murmur only for her.

"Darlin'..." His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down the side of her neck, lingering at the base of her throat. He could feel her pulse hammering beneath his touch while his other hand rested low on her waist in the front, easing down to a place unimaginable in front of folks. “You’re playin’ with fire." He muttered.

She tilted her chin up, leaning her head back against his chest, gaze smoldering. "Good thing I ain't afraid to burn.” She whispered. And that was all he needed. He quickly spun her around and his mouth was on hers, rough and consuming, his kiss leaving no room for question, no space for anything but him—his hands, his body, the heat of him pressing against every part of her.

She met him with equal fervor, fingers fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer, gasping into his mouth when he pressed himself fully against her. The saloon around them might as well have disappeared.

Nothing else existed in that moment. Just him and just her. That and the fire threatening to consume them both.

One moment, they were moving with the rhythm of the music, spinning slow in the dim glow of the saloon lights. The next, he was leading her off the floor, through the press of bodies, past the thick haze of cigar smoke and whiskey-scented air. The second the cool night air hit her skin, she was backed against the wooden frame of the saloon’s outer wall, the rough grain pressing into her spine, his body caging her in.

There was no more teasing, just as there was no more space between them. She barely had time to breathe before his lips found hers again. Slow, at first, like he was still savoring, still memorizing, but the second she sighed against his mouth, the second her fingers slid into his hair and pulled, something broke between them. The kiss turned hungry and deep.

Like he’d been starving for this—for her—for longer than he cared to admit.

She gasped when he gripped her thigh, hitching it up against his hip, pressing her flush against him, making her feel a bulge she that didn't know was his belt buckle, the crease of his jeans or his manhood. Heat coiled between them, urgent and burning, his mouth trailing from her lips to her jaw, down the curve of her neck. She tilted her head, giving him more, losing herself to the feel of him—the weight of his body, the heat of his breath, the quiet growl he let slip when she dragged her nails down his back. "Oh, Terry," She breathed, and damn if he didn’t shudder at the sound of it.

He lifted his head, his forehead pressing against hers, their breath mingling, their bodies still tangled together in the shadows. "I ain’t lettin’ go," He murmured, voice rough, edged with something dangerous. "Not tonight."

She grinned, breathless, running her fingers down the side of his face, feeling the slight roughness of his freshly shaven jaw. "Good." She said before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him to place her lips against her. The kiss lasted for mere seconds, a mash of panting breaths and slick tongues before Terry pulled away. He didn’t say a word before he took her hand, his fingers wrapping firm around hers, rough and warm. He didn’t have to. The look in his eyes, the quiet pull of his grip, said enough.

She followed him back through the saloon, past the clinking glasses and low murmur of conversation, past the haze of cigar smoke still hanging thick in the air. The wooden stairs creaked under their steps as he led her up, slow and steady, his thumb tracing slow circles against her palm like he was trying to keep himself anchored. Or like he was memorizing her touch.

She should’ve felt nervous. Should’ve felt some sense of hesitation as they moved further away from the music, from the people, from any excuse to slow this down.

But she didn’t. All she could focus on was him.

The broad stretch of his shoulders. The slow, deliberate pace of his steps. The way he glanced back at her over his shoulder, his blue eyes dark with something unreadable, something that made her stomach dip and heat coil between her ribs.

They reached his door.

And for a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

He just stood there, facing the wood, his breath slow and measured like he was giving himself a second to think—to decide if this was a line he was ready to cross. Then, without a word, he pushed it open. The second they were inside, it changed.

The tension that had been simmering, stretching between them in the dance, in the way he watched her, in every unspoken moment leading up to this—it snapped.

She barely had time to take in the room before she was against the door, her back pressed against the worn wood, her breath stolen by the press of his body. Terry’s lips crashed against hers, no hesitation now, no teasing restraint. He kissed her like he’d been holding back for too damn long, like he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance again, and she felt it all. The hunger. The need. The slow, deep pull of something dangerously close to devotion.

She gasped when his hands—big, warm, calloused from work—spanned her waist, dragging her closer, molding her to him like he needed to feel every inch of her against him. His hands tacked down, bending slightly to gather the bunch of her skirt. He hiked it up, catching a feel of her warm thighs that molded under his grip. The feeling of her hands caused her to moan in his mouth, her hands moving over him feverishly as she was filled heat she was giving her. He didn’t hold back, moving his hands up for the back of her legs and gracing over the smooth skin of her ass. He tightened his grip, needing it and causing her to gasp into his mouth. He took his as an option to slip his tongue deeper, almost sucking on hers while he moved his hands to begin to untie the strings of her corset.

She didn’t hold back either. Her fingers found the buttons of his vest, fumbling with them, her hands eager and desperate to feel the heat of his skin. His breath hitched against her mouth when she dragged the fabric from his shoulders, then she felt the quiet rumble of a chuckle against her lips when she yanked his shirt free and ragged her hands down his ribbed abdomen, impatience getting the best of her.

"So eager.” He murmured against her lips, voice low and teasing.

She narrowed her eyes, nipping softly at his bottom lip with her teeth, her nails grazing down his chest, feeling the sharp inhale he took at the touch. "So are you." She purred.

And he didn’t argue. He didn’t need to.

Instead, he reached back down, cupped her though just under her ass, and lifted her, carrying her further into the room like she weighed nothing at all. She barely had time to register the shift before she felt the softness of the mattress beneath her, his weight pressing her down, his mouth trailing slow, lingering kisses down the column of her throat. His touch was slow and sensual, his hands finding any place to rub and caress. Like he was still memorizing, like he was savoring.

But the moment she whispered his name—breathy and wanting—something shifted again. His slow, deliberate control had snapped.

And neither of them held back anymore.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulled him closer as if she was trying to meld them into one. Terry's breath caught as his bulge hit her core, his hands gripped her tighter, holding her as if he were afraid she might slip away. The world outside faded -no clinking glasses, no murmurs, just the vibrant thud of their hearts battling for attention in the silence between their kisses. Their mouths slid together with a hunger that left her breathless. Every kiss deepened the fire sparking between them, waves of adrenaline crashing over her as she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him even closer as he dipped down to claim her throat once more. He kissed his way down, worshipping her skin with heated touches and soft bites, igniting every nerve ending in her body.

"Tell me what you want.” He murmured against her collarbone, his breath hot against the cool air of the room. “Come on, tell me baby. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” He breathed out. There was something dangerously tender in his rough but needy words, as if he genuinely wanted to know-not just in the heat of the moment, but in that space where everything was laid bare.

She didn't hesitate. "You. All of you. Right here, right now, baby. Give it to me." It was a wild and brisk admission, and a thrill shot through her at the honesty in her voice. She could feel Terry's pulse quicken at her words, a primal urge coursing through him. He raised his head, looking directly into her eyes, and in that moment, she understood. This was more than a fleeting encounter. This was a collision of desires that had been simmering for far too long.

With a sharp intake of breath, he dove back into her mouth, a feverish kiss that stole her thoughts and drowned her in pleasure. She felt the weight of him press into her, his body a delicious contradiction of strength and softness. He paused for the briefest moment to catch her gaze, the heat in his eyes burning deeper than before, and she sensed the shift—not just in the proximity of their bodies, but in the intensity of everything that hung between them.

"Are you sure?" He rasped, pulling back just enough for her to see the uncertainty mingled with desire in his eyes. She could sense it— the weight of the moment, the gravity of their choices. "Absolutely.” She replied, her heart racing with certainty. She reached for him again, pulling him closer, and felt a grin split his face as he dove into her once more, taking her breath and leaving nothing but a breathless gasp in its wake.

Their clothes were off in an instant.

Once her corset was off and the full expanse of her skin was showing, he sucked a nipple into his mouth, his tongue trace the outline of her areola to his heart's content before pulling away to show the other the same attention. He listened to her sigh and smiled. "I love the way you sound." He said before grumbling out her name.

"Yeah?" She sighed, eyes closed as she took in the feeling of his tongue as he licked up her sternum. "I love the way you say my name." She breathed.

"Yeah?" Terry releated as his hands drifted lower in her body. “ I love your body. Your perfect." He paused to place a kiss on her stomach. “Perfect.” Another kiss, this time below her belly button. “Perfect, body.” He finished, his warm breath blowing on her core. His hands moved from her waist, deriding lower to ease her legs apart as he took in the sigh before him. He audibly moaned at the sight, practically drooling as he looked at her. “So fucking pretty.” He whispered. He wanted to taste all she had to offer. Before she could sink in, She placed her hand on his head, pushing his head back. “Wait.” She said.

Terry looked up at her, his large blue eyes dark and blown with lust. “What is it baby?” He asked, licking his lips as his eyes trailed over her form laid out before him. Her eyes sifted away from his stare, biting at her bottom lip before she spoke. “I…I’ve never had a fella go down there before.” She said softly.

Terry’s smirk faded, his expression shifting into something softer, something reverent. He rested his hands on her hips, his thumbs stroking slow and reassuring circles against her skin, before he placed his head on her bender knee. “Ever?” He asked. His voice was quiet, almost disbelieving, but there was no judgment—just understanding, just care. And something a little more that neither of them knew.

She shook her head, eyes darting away, almost shy. “Ain’t never been with a man who wanted to.” She shrugged a bit, still biting at her lower lip.

Terry exhaled sharply, his brows pulling together for the briefest moment, like the thought alone frustrated him. He cupped the side of her thigh, grounding her, making sure she felt him, felt the sincerity in his touch.

“Well.” He said, voice warm and steady, “You got one now.”

Her eyes flickered back to his, searching, cautious. But all she found was certainty. His lips brushed against her skin, his breath warm as he murmured, “You just tell me what feels good, darlin’. I got you. I just want you to play back. You ain’t gotta worry no more.” He said, his voice going back into the deep ruble that set her ablaze. And the way he said it—so sure, so gentle—made something deep in her chest tighten. Because she believed him.

So that’s what she did, ladies back against the pillows and open her legs further, barring it all and offering it to him. And Terry took it with life, gratitude, as well as pure lust. Like a magnet, Terry's fingers found their way to her slick lips as he gathered wetness before dragging his skilled digits around her clit. Her breath audibly hitched from the contact, making him chuckle before he pressed his lips against her plump thigh, squeezing with the other hand. Slow circles, maddeningly slow and gentle enough to feel like nothing at all had her willing to agree to just about anything to get off.

He then lunged forward with hunger, letting his tongue do all the talking, slithering inside of her warm walls as his nose nudged her clit. She tensed up with every nudge, let out small pants at the unfamiliar yet raviging feeling that washed over her. He glanced down, watching as he freely put his face in her center. He made it messy enough to admire when he pulled his mouth off of her, her pussy glistening like he just doused her in oil.

"Ohh, look at you, baby.” The grumble that came deep from within his throat as he watched her cute clenched around nothing as she continued to whine from the loss of contact from above. And his green eyes on her most intimate parts made it so hard not to get hot and bothered even with him not doing anything. Her poor nub was jumping with excitement as he used his large fingers to spread her lips open. “Look who’s happy to see me." He said as he took in a sharp breath, feeling her slick coating his fingers, the sound of her wetness loud within the room. “You happy to see me, hun? Huh?“ He questioned, looking up at her.

She moan and nodded eagerly, bringing her hand to cover her mouth at the stimulation he was giving her down under. Terry smiled at that, sharp teeth flashing from under his lips. He tried to keep his eyes on hers, looking into her large orbs that were filled with pleasure and a slight sheen of tears at his touch, but her pussy that just kept sucking his fingers in had him in a trance as his sick standing at attention in his underwear. “Tell me you’re happy I’m down here. Making you feel so good.” He demanded. His tone didn’t leave anymore for defiance, which she took as she angered him. “I’m so happy you’re here, Terry. You feel so good, baby.” She whined out as best as she could, breaths short and rocked her hips into his fingers.

"Mmm, yeah, I know.” Terry grinned. “When the last time sometime touched you, huh?" He asked, but this time he got no response watching as she began to reach her high and feeling her clench around his finger. Tweeting pulled his hand back at that, causing the woman to whine at the loss of contact. “Tell me, hun, and we can continue.” He said.

"I-I don't remember.” She said, and she was telling the truth, she truly couldn't. It had to be nothing worth remembering, especially in comparison to what he was making her feel now.

"Well, I’m gon’ make sure you remember this, hear" He then bent down to deliver a bite to her plush thigh, almost as if he was warning her for what's to come before he dove his face back into her heat, slurping at her hard and soaked clit. Her belly was doing summersaults, she could barely contain her volume at the feeling of his long and warm muscle working a magic she’s never felt before. But her sounds were the last of his worries, they were actually only fuel to his already burning fire.

As he ate, he made noise. He moaned, grunted, groaned in her, letting he know and feel that he was having just as much fun as she was.

Her legs had began to shake the longer he was down there, her hands gripping onto the white sheets of the inn bed since that was all she had to hold on to after he practically ripped her’s and his clothes off beforehand.

"Yes! Yes, oh, yes! I'm so close, Terry baby.” She struggled to keep her eyes on him even with his staring back up at her over her pudge, his eyes low lidded and dark. They beckoned her to stay, to not go levee the edge just yet, but her pleasure had came rolling through like a monsoon and wiped all the thoughts from her brain. She was a shaking, blubbering mess under his weight as he continued to lick and eat at her juices. He moved his mouth away from her pussy only to replace it with his hand, rubbing her clit in tight circles as he subconsciously moved her hips.

"Just feel it, baby. Let it happen.” He cooed in that sexy country drawl. She tried to fight against his hand, her thighs subconsciously closing around his wrist. But he smacked his large hand into her juicy thighs and kept at it with his other hand until he felt like he was done. "Be still and met it happen, baby." He cooed, enticing another moan from the woman. She felt like she was literally about to float up into the heavens, her back arching up off of the couch just to get away from the overstimulation.

"Okay! Oh, Fuck!" She screamed. “Yes, Terry!” He moved his hand to allow her to go through the motions, watching as she twitched until that special feeling left her center. "Good job, baby.” He said, pressing a soft kiss on her thighs. “Good job, my pretty girl." Another kiss from him was placed beside her opened mouth as heavy breathing left as he moved up her body.

As the tremors faded from her body, she lay there, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim lights of the room. Her limbs felt weightless, boneless, as if she’d melted right into the bed.

Terry was still there, right where he had been, his hands firm on her thighs, holding her steady like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. He pressed slow, lingering kisses to the inside of her knee, then another, trailing up, as if savoring the aftermath.

When she finally opened her eyes, she found him watching her, his expression unreadable at first—like he was memorizing her in this moment, like he was trying to etch the sight of her pleasure into his bones. A slow, lazy smirk then tugged at his lips. “Ain’t never seen somethin’ so damn pretty.” His voice was rough, thick with satisfaction, but there was something else there too. Something deeper.

She let out a breathless laugh, her fingers finding their way into his hair, rubbing lightly. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, cowboy.” She smirked. Terry hummed with chortle, leaning into her touch, his hands sliding up to rest at her waist as he crawled up beside her. “Ain’t about makin’ you feel special.” He murmured against her skin, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You already are.”

Her breath hitched, her heart fluttering in her chest at the way he said it—so simple, so certain. She turned her head to look at him, finding those piercing blue eyes already on her, unwavering. And for a moment, neither of them spoke. There was no need to.

Instead, she reached for him, guiding his face to hers, and kissed him slow—letting him feel exactly how much she believed him. She slowly came back to herself with her lips attached to his, still basking in the warmth of his touch. She let her fingers trail down his chest, her nails scraping lightly over the fabric of his briefs. She could feel the way his breath hitched, bus bulge rubbing against her. The tension still coiled tight in his body despite the easy way he lay beside her.

A slow smirk pulled at her lips as she traced top of his boxers, slipping her hand into them with practiced ease. “Reckon I should return the favor.” She murmured, her voice soft, teasing.

But before she could go any further, Terry’s hand caught hers—not rough, not forceful, just firm enough to stop her in place. She looked up, brows furrowing in confusion, but the look in his eyes made her pause. “Ain’t about that.” He said quietly, his voice still thick, still warm, but full of something deeper. He squeezed her fingers, rubbing slow circles into the back of her hand. “You just came down from somethin’ real intense, darlin’. I just wanna hold you right now.”

She blinked at him, caught off guard by his words, by the tenderness in them. “Terry, I—”

“I know.” He gave her a small, lazy smile, shifting so he could pull her closer against him. “We got time for all that. Just… let me have this. Let me have you right here in this exact moment. We might not ever get it again.”

And the way he said it, like holding her in his arms was just as much of a pleasure as anything else, sent something warm through her chest. They wet her already planned for this to be sitting more made her body flutter in a way only he can make happen. She sighed, settling against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. “That’s my good girl.” He said before placing a kiss on her warm skin.

And with that, they stayed there, tangled up in each other, letting the night stretch out slow and easy.

@kneelarmhstrung @winorlosetogether @joshuafatubaee

@becauseimswagman1 @nubiagurlll @gwenda-fav

@susanhill @sIvt4her @cryotrain @fakxmbj j

@wayytoocooll @brattyfics @brownskin-bratz @alonahh

@kaylalb @blackpinup22 @xjjawsomex @borednblk

@trash-panda-xoxo @luckydaye777 @dreadheadmadi @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @saturnville @zillasvilla @kinginwithbreezy-blog

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Deuce Spade - Liongarb Voice Lines

Liongarb Deuce does not have a vignette.

Since this is a proper battle, I don't gotta hold back. I'm gonna win this, fair and square!

Summon: Just a little while ago, Kingscholar-senpai tossed me this outfit. "You might be up next year," he said... What's that supposed to mean?

Groovification: I don't care about my chances, I'll never give up. You'll see just how much willpower I have!

Home: You tryin' ta face me? Or, whatever.

Home Transition 1: Asim-senpai said he wanted to build a hot springs on the campus grounds. If that really happened, I'd probably want to take a dip there, too.

Home Transition 2: So, Catch-the-Tail is all about letting your fists do the talking, huh. I sure hope I'm not rusty when I actually get to take part in it.

Home Transition 3: Kingscholar-senpai knows how to drive a car!? I've always wanted to know the difference in how it feels from riding a blastcycle. I gotta get him to tell me about it...!

Home Transition - Login: I didn't really know much about the Sunset Savanna, but it sounds like it's got some awesome places. You should show me around sometime.

Home Transition - Groovy: You're giving me these egg-flavored hot spring cookies? Thanks! It looks really good. Here, want to share 'em with me?

Home Tap 1: Is this a picture of the Sunset Savanna? Woah, these are some real neat shots. You gotta show me the rest.

Home Tap 2: So the Sunset Warriors even have to take special classes, huh. They're both scholars and fighters... I can't help but admire 'em.

Home Tap 3: In all of Schoenheit-senpai's photos, despite him focusing hard on the fight, it also looks like he's perfectly posed for the camera. I guess that's an actor for ya. He's always prepared...

Home Tap 4: A rain-calling tradition, huh. When it rains, my tires lose traction, and my mom has trouble with her deliveries... I don't think I've ever wished for it to rain before.

Home Tap 5: Don'tcha think the color and design of these beads are super awesome? I've always liked this kinda stuff, and... Eh? You think they're a bit much?

Home Tap - Groovy: I get so pumped up getting decked out in clothes specifically for a battle. In the past, I'd wear a special outfit that had a tiger embroidered on it whenever I had an important fight coming up.

Duo: [DEUCE]: There's no way I can lose, Asim-senpai! [KALIM]: Deuce, let's go all out!

Requested by @farfalla049.

[l-starsz]

Billie convincing reader to let her eat her pussy on her period

I'm inlove with your fics, you're such a damn good writer 🫶🏽🫶🏽

a/n: this probably isn’t great because i’m SOOO tired and my head is pounding rn but i hope it’s good at least🥲 and thank you so much ml!! i’m so sorry this took ages for me to write🫶

billie and i were laying in bed together, watching a movie. her back was resting against the comfy pillows on our bed, whilst my back was resting against her front. i was sat between her legs, and her hands were lightly resting against my thighs. we were both intrigued in the movie, or so i thought. whilst i was watching, and keeping up with the storyline, billies hands began to wander. they roamed up my stomach, cupping my boobs gently, before moving down again to this time, rest against my inner thighs.

i really tried to focus on the movie, but i just couldn't with her hands all over me. i knew nothing could happen, i was on my period, which meant that i had to wait a few more days until she could touch me. i'd been so horny. i was desperate for her, but we both knew that nothing could be done about it. well, she could fix my horniness, but i felt bad for asking her to do that when i was on my period. so i waited, and somehow put up with the feeling of being unbearably horny almost all day, every day.

soon enough, i felt her pressing light kisses behind my ear, down my neck, before lightly whispering in my ear.

"can i try something, baby?"

i slightly turned in her arms so that i could see her face, before answering her in a hushed tone.

"and what would that be, hm bil?"

"please can i taste you?"

my eyebrows furrowed and i looked away as i wondered why she was even asking. she knew i was on my period. she'd practically been taking care of me for the last few days. grabbing me a hot water bottle, or holding me in her arms whenever my cramps worsened. getting me whatever food i wanted when i was craving something. making sure i was drinking plenty of water. she really was the best. i just didn't understand why she was asking this now.

"i.. baby, you know i'm still on my period."

"i know.. i just can't wait!! i want to taste you please, love. i'll do anything."

i hesitated slightly. what if i made a mess, and then she got mad? what if i didn't taste good? she must have noticed the look on my face because she began speaking again.

"if you're not comfortable with this, then we don't have to do it. but i promise you that you don't need to overthink it, there should be no what if's filling your mind. you know i love you no matter what. i think you're the most perfect girl in the world."

how did she know?

it was like she could read my mind.

"pleaseeee? pinky promise i'll take great care of you, angel. just like always. pretty please?"

if i hadn't been so horny for the last few days, i probably would've said no, but that side of my brain just took over. i needed her so so bad. i reminded myself that she would always love me. this wasn't going to change that. she wanted this just as much as i did.

"if i say yes, can you put a towel down? you know.. just in case?" i mumbled, slightly embarrassed.

"of course, angel. whatever makes you feel the most comfortable." she answered me, placing soft kisses on my forehead.

once i'd spent a short amount of time thinking about it, i looked back into her eyes and nodded.

"i need you billie."

she just smirked at my words, before sitting me up slightly so that she could move from behind me, and settle in between my legs instead.

it didn't take her long to leave the room and grab a towel, folding it slightly and placing it underneath me. she sat on her knees at first, slowly pulling my pyjamas and underwear down so that she had the perfect view of me. once our clothes had been discarded in a messy pile on the floor, she leaned down to lay on her stomach, getting even closer to my core. i let out a needy whine when all she did was lightly blow against my pussy.

she could already see how wet i was. i hadn't told her about how needy id been for the past few days, but i think that as soon as she caught a glance of how wet i was, she immediately realised. she didn't bother to waste any more time, diving straight in. her tongue ran a long stripe up my pussy, before focusing on my clit. she was trying to get me wetter, it wasn't like she needed me to be wetter, she just wanted to tease. i reached my hands down to grab her hair, pulling her impossibly closer to my core in an attempt to get her to move faster.

we both knew that i was already pretty sensitive because of how long i'd needed this, so it wouldn't take her long to get me close, which was why she was trying to drag it out as much as possible. she wanted me to last as long as i could.

her tongue flicked my clit, before licking and slurping, just doing as much as she could to bring me pleasure. after what felt like an eternity, she finally moved to push her tongue inside of me. she worked her tongue against my tight walls as they squeezed against her. my orgasm was approaching fast, and my arousal must have been dripping all over the lower half of her face. at that point, i'd completely forgot that i was on my period, and i think billie had forgotten too. we were both too focused on me finishing.

i was so close, and to add to the pleasure, she pressed her fingers on my clit, quickly rubbing circles against it, making my moans as loud as they could get. i couldn't hold it any longer. no matter how hard i tried, i was too desperate.

"billie! baby, can i cum for you? please?" i moaned out.

"that's ittt." she praised, "cum for me, my love."

as soon as i heard those words, my orgasm hit me. my moans and cries were broken whilst i let the feeling consume me. my back was arching off the bed, and my hands were still tangled in billies hair, gripping onto it tight to ground myself slightly.

as i started to come down from my high, my grip loosened on her hair, and i felt one of her hands gently rubbing my stomach to help me calm down. when i finally flopped against the bed, trying to catch my breath, billie pulled her face away from me, looking into my eyes with a proud smile. all i could see was a mixture of my arousal, and blood dripping down her chin and coating her lips.

my cheeks turned red and i covered my face, embarrassed even though i knew billie was just happy that she'd made me feel good.

i didn't even notice her come closer to my face until i felt her carefully grabbing my wrists to pry my hands away from my face, and i heard her pretty voice.

"don't be embarrassed, angel. can i go clean you up now?"

"please." i nodded and thanked her, allowing myself to be lifted up in her arms, my head resting on my shoulder out of exhaustion.

once we took a long shower, and pampered each other, it was time for us to get back in bed and watch movies for the rest of the day, enjoying each others company just like usual.

[quantum1mmortality]

hii idk if this wld be too vague but could u do househusband curly hcs? sfw or nsfw is ok🙂

Omg guys more husband curly x reader I REPEAT MORE HUSBAND CURLY X READER!!!!! You guys absolutely DEVOURED my other husband curly hcs so uh.. here's more. Because I seek validation or whatever

Tw/cw; submissive Curly, EXTREMELY submissive Curly, dominant reader, Afab!reader, Curly being a very good boy

Not proofread

Sfw

Honestly, Curly would be the best househusband ever. He literally has all of the traits that a housewife would have, but it's 10x better because it's Curly.

Tired after a long day of work? He made you your favorite meal, PLUS dessert. Your body is hurting after work? Curly may or may not be the best at massages..

I feel like he'd spend hours in the kitchen each day making sure every part of your dinner is PERFECT for when you get home. The flavor, texture, presentation, everything is to your liking, and it's all thanks to him.

Curly and Anya have a group chat where they just send each other Pinterest recipes and I won't elaborate on that

On the same note, the house is constantly clean. I think Curly would be a neat freak, so either way it would be clean, but he takes it to an entity new level. He's home all day, so every single surface is getting cleaned. Every. Single. One.

He can't have the house that his beloved wife so graciously provides him with be dirty, so he HAS to clean it. He HAS to make you know he appreciates you, and one of the ways he does that is by keeping everything clean. Every floor is getting mopped, every counter is getting wiped down, all of the shelves are getting dusted, everything that could be cleaned, will be cleaned. Daily.

Okay enough of the cleaning, I think Curly would wake up extra early every day so he could make you breakfast. Pancakes, waffles, eggs, oatmeal, anything you wanted that day, he'd make it. He'd go to the grocery store at 5 in the morning to get something for your breakfast if he needed to. This man is DEDICATED to serving you, and he isnt ashamed to admit it.

Nsfw

Might be a hot take but idc these are MY hcs, househusband Curly would be MUCH more submissive than normal Curly.

Normal Curly is.. just that, normal. He isn't particularly dominant, but he takes on the role of a dominant partner in bed. He likes having a sense of power over you while still letting you know through each step how much he cares about you. Your safety and comfort come before anything else to him, no matter how far gone in pleasure he is.

Househusband Curly is the opposite of dominant. Literally. Every other trait I went over he still has, except the dominant parts. You provide him with everything he's ever wanted, he is completely at your disposal, and he loves it.

This man literally wants you to use him. It doesn't matter what you do, if you're in the mood, he's in the mood. Push him to his limits, take out your frustration on him(sexually and consensually, don't hit him please), use him like a fucking toy, he doesn't care. To him, his only purpose is to please you, and he's dedicated to it.

Now, obviously this means you're going to be topping most of the time. It's what he prefers. But occasionally, he'll want to top. But it's the exact same as you topping, just in a different position.

A harsh grip on your hips, heavy breathing, loud whimper and moaning, shallow thrusts and a hard climax.. everything is the same, the only difference is you're underneath him this time.

Even still, the pleasure he gets from watching you ride him will never be topped. Literally. He just can't get enough of the view.. your face contorting in pleasure, your breasts bouncing up and down with each thrust, watching his cock go in and out of your pretty little pussy.. it's everything to him. And so, so much more.

A/N; I'm starting to think I should make a master list for all of my curly fics ngl

[luvismenu]

satisfied — knj oneshot (bday special)

pairing: roommate!namjoon x fem!reader

warnings: e2l type shi, nicknames, unprotected sex, eating out (fem! receiving), riding, nipple play, big dick!namjoon, overstimulation, creampie, porn without plot

note: dedicated to @deluluisdasolulu ♡

wc: 1.6k+

♡ — permanent taglist: @wnteraezz @jksctrl @ari420sstuff @jkvias @blaricee @blluee28 @letmekookk @whoa-jo @wobblewobble822 @jkslvsnella @clxssy1997 @nikkinikj @kayleesaltzmann @rrosiitas @naurnonope @lola75111 @somehowukook @redcherrykook @parkinglot-nights @deluluisdasolulu @minghaosimp @hyeon-yi @ririkookiemonster @svtrighthereworld @jmscaffeine

"you. fucking. suck."

"i. don't. care."

unbelievable.

your roommate, kim namjoon, thinks he can do whatever he wants and get away with it. and what annoys you the most is that he always fucking does.

"you can't just bring a bunch of people here and ruin the place and then wait for me to clean this shit up," you grit out, barely holding your frustration.

it's his birthday.

but that doesn't mean you're gonna clean up his mess. you were at work all day, and now you come home to this...

god, there's trash everywhere.

"my birthday wish; clean up this mess for me," he says with a fake pout, plastered on his stupid annoying face.

"no fucking way."

"that's not a nice thing to say to the birthday boy," he frowns, as if he's the victim here.

oh, the fucking audacity.

"i was at work all day, and i had to fucking stay late to finish some stupid paperwork, and now all i want to do is rest. i am not cleaning up your birthday mess, kim namjoon." you cross your arms tightly, trying to keep your voice from raising further.

"aw, miss little angry is stressed," he coos, walking over to the fridge, pulling out a beer bottle like everything's normal.

"it's either you clean up or i'm..." you pause, thinking for a second, "i'll call the cops on you!" you let out a frustrated sigh.

what are you even saying? cops?

"cops?" he chuckles, walking over to you with the beer bottle, towering over you now. his shirt is half unbuttoned, hair messy. he looks you up and down before taking a long sip of his drink. "what, you tryna scare me now? hm?"

oh god, why is this making you horny?

"i-i... you should clean," you stammer, your voice softer than before as you desperately try to get a grip on your mind.

he grins.

he fucking grins.

and not the sweet kind of grin. it's that evil, cocky grin.

but for some reason, you can't seem to get any more words out. he looks hotter than usual today. probably because you haven't had sex in a while.

or maybe because you never noticed how incredibly hot he looks when he's not being a complete pain in the ass.

he leans down, his face close to yours, your noses almost touching. "you look so tired. miss little angry had a bad day, hm?" he tilts his head, teasing you.

"fuck you." you grit out, which only seems to satisfy him more.

"you're so cute when you're all riled up, you know that?" his eyes flicker to your lips before returning to your eyes. "almost too cute to stop me from bending you over and having my way with you."

oh lord have mercy—

no. no. no. you can't give in to his stupid tricks. he's only doing this so you'll clean the whole place. you can't give in. you're stronger than this.

"nice try," you say, pushing him back, forcing some distance between you two.

"i'm gonna go take a shower. you better start cleaning, birthday boy," you say, pointing to the mess of beer bottles and food wrappers. and god, you hope that's not a used condom lying on the floor.

he sighs dramatically. “yes, ma'am.”

before unlocking your door, you spin around, feeling one last wave of anxiety. "wait. please tell me nobody fucked in my room," you scrunch your nose in disgust.

"oh yeah, there was a foursome going on in your room. it was really fun to watch," he says, taking another swig from his bottle.

"what the fuck!?" you exclaim, ready to throw hands.

"relax!! i'm joking,” he laughs. "i may not know much about boundaries, but i don't let people trash your room. little miss angry needs her safe space, right?" he flashes you a grin, almost as if he's mocking you.

you scoff, shaking your head as you finally head to your room, leaving him to deal with the mess.

after your relaxing shower, you spend at least 30 minutes in your room, trying to calm your nerves. you hear some hustle and bustle from outside your door, and you assume he's actually cleaning up.

you feel a little bad.

maybe you were a bit harsh?

it's his birthday, after all.

you baked him cupcakes last night, which took a lot of work since you've never baked before. they weren't perfect, but it still counts—one of the reasons you're tired, since you didn't sleep much.

but it was worth it, considering that all the cupcakes are gone, not even leaving one for you.

you hope he ate most of them.

you open your door after what seems like an hour, finding a tired, shirtless namjoon on the couch. the sight makes you feel something.

wish he could ruin you and—

what?

you're clearly not in your right mind right now.

you walk over to the couch he's sleeping on. he looks up at you, taking in your form. it's the usual shorts and t-shirt, nothing sexy about it. okay, maybe a little inappropriate because you're not wearing anything under those. your perked nipples are visible through the t-shirt, and you notice how his eyes darken.

“good job,” you say, scanning the room.

“thanks, although you forced me to do it,” he sits up on the couch, your stomach right in front of his face, but there's still a little space between you two.

“it's your responsibility,” you say with a smirk.

he looks up at you, returning your smirk, “yeah? can I ask for my birthday wish now?”

“fine, what do you want?” you ask.

he stands up, making you stumble back a little, but he pulls you closer by placing his hands on your hips. leaning into your ear, he whispers, “you.”

and that's it.

you give in.

"oh my— f-fuck!!"

he's got you sprawled on your bed, arms wrapped around your thighs, head moving up and down as he eats your pussy like it's his last meal.

"you taste so fucking good” he gasps as he starts sucking on your clit, his tongue rolling on the sensitive nub. your hand grips his hair urging him closer as you grind against his face

"f-fuck joon, mm so close" you moan, your head thrown back on the pillow from the intense pleasure.

he continues eating you out, his tongue doing wonders to you as you let out shameless gasps and moans.

one of his hands travel to your breast, squeezing it gently. he uses one finger to play with your nipple, rolling and pinching it. you reach out to your other breast, mirroring his actions.

the dirty wet sounds of his eager mouth on you fill the room.

“cum on my face, baby, do it.”

and you do.

you come on his face and he licks up every drop of you.

he sits up with that cocky grin on his face. he takes in the sight of you all spread out and breathless for him.

"we're not done yet, come here," he pats his lap, stroking his already hard length, "ride my cock like the good girl you are."

do you even wanna say no to that?

he helps you settle on his cock, and you wince a little at the stretch.

he is so fucking big.

"you sure you can take it?" he chuckles

"yes, i can," you breathe out, letting him slide deeper into you, and a loud yelp escapes your lips. he groans at the tightness.

"it's okay, baby, go slow," he says, his hands firmly on your hips. you nod, trying to pace yourself.

you move slowly, taking all of him in, and oh fuck, it feels incredible.

your hands grip his broad shoulders as you start bouncing on his thick length. his eyes are drawn to your bouncing tits, and soon enough, his mouth is wrapped around your nipple, sucking and licking it greedily.

"mmfh joon s-so good!" you gasp as you keep moving up and down on his cock. your walls wrap tightly around namjoon's cock, the squelching sounds and messy moans filling the room.

"f-fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his grip on you tightening. he lifts his hips slightly, hitting the perfect spot.

"r-right there, mmfh joon, more!" his cock hits the spot over and over, making you lose control, your body weakening from the overstimulation.

"gonna come for me? hm? already?" he rasps as he slows down, gently placing you on the bed without pulling out. you nod weakly as he continues pounding into you.

"hold it for me, baby, not yet."

you can only hope your neighbors can't hear you because the noises spilling from your mouth sound straight out of porn—loud and messy.

"joon p-please, i wanna cum," you cry out. it’s too much. he’s too much. you need to cum.

"fuck! yes baby, cum with me," he growls as his thrusts grow faster.

"oh y-yes fuck!!" a choked moan leaves you as you release, your legs shaking slightly.

"gonna fill you up, baby," he hisses before thrusting two final times, shooting his cum deep inside you. your mouth hangs open, and your chest rising and falling repeatedly.

he pulls out slowly, collapsing beside you and tugging you close to him.

“happy birthday to you i guess," you breathe out, a smile playing on your lips, and he chuckles in response.

“miss little angry not so angry anymore, hm?” he teases, a grin on his lips. you chuckle, playfully slapping his chest.

“miss little angry satisfied.”

[euphoria-looney]

Idk if you’ve seen Nosferatu but I think a situation like that could totally apply to (Name).

Brief overview:

In Nosferatu, the main character Ellen grows up feeling lonely and isolated. She pleads for a supernatural being to arrive and comfort her and she wakes up ‘Nosferatu’ who makes her pledge herself to him fully. There’s loads of other stuff as well but I think this main idea would be interesting. Nosferatu in the movie is really, really old and ugly, but I think (Name) deserves a fit, hot vampire boyfriend/husband. But essentially he’s like a Vampire Count, aka Dracula.

How it’s play out:

(Name),as a young child, calls out for ‘Nosferatu’ (or whatever name the vampire will have) and he wakes up. He makes them pledge their complete loyalty to him for all eternally, essentially making them his ‘bride’. (Name) is comforted by him, but this connection fades as they grow older.

Then, when they turn 18, Nosferatu calls out for them in their dreams and travels to Gotham, keeping them in his manor. He’s basically a yandere in the movie anyway, so (Name) is kept quite weak and docile due to his mind control, spending most of their time doting on him or sleeping.

Now, I think it’d be interesting for the Batfam to react because the thing about Nosferatu is that the oath to him MUST be consensual, give or take MAJOR manipulation, but still, (Name) has to willingly go with him. So the Batfam have to come to terms with the fact that (Name) literally chose an obsessive, undead (but fit) vampire husband over them.

And ‘Nosferatu’ is NOT going to play fair if they try and take his bride. Literally no Dracula variant does.

I Asked For a Friend, But Got a Husband?

"I sense her in my mind, she's my collar" She's My Collar (feat. Kali Uchis)

So Much More. (Should I name this something new? Since it's a different AU?)

Special (?)

Divider Creds: @anitalenia and @qqmariztwsse

Being young, barely seen or heard, I could only busy myself with books. Even then how many books could I read before feeling that loneliness knaw on me?

Okay, dramatic I knew but who knew this one feeling would lead me to immediately get married by the age of eighteen?

I know how bad that sounds, trust me, I was the one who experienced it.

"What are you thinking about right now, honey?" I felt arms wrap around me.

Meet Elzire.

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

"Nothing much," I replied looking through our mail.

How we met, well I believe it because of this, but don't take my word for it, I might just be delusional.

I had gone to the library and saw [D/D] she ecstatically waved to me before Damian pulled her away giving me a sneer. I waved that off and looked around before spotting a book that I’d never seen before. 

It had a blood red cover and the title ‘Forever’, curious, I opened it. It seemed like a child's story as they had short sentences and photos. It starts with a girl who, one day after being tired of being lonely prays to the gods of her world she doesn’t care who or what they sent no matter what they looked like or how they acted as long as they were her friends, and nice to her at least, she would be happy.

Then it happened, a boy her age descended to her and every day they would play before growing old together.

The end.

I put the book back before returning to what I was originally doing, studying for my next exam.

— 

It had been a good week since I read that fantasy child’s book, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I went to the library at night when everyone was either on a mission or asleep and to my surprise the book was gone.

Someone must’ve thrown it out, there’s no reason to keep it here anyone.

I let out a sigh before heading back to my room and though I accepted the book was gone I couldn’t help but wonder, could I do that?

No, that’d be silly.

But…

It never hurts anyone to try.

“Please, whoever is out there, please accompany me and become the pillar I can lean on.” 

.

..

…

Welp I tried, back to sleep I have a piano recital tomorrow no time for these goofy beliefs.

3RD POV

 A figure descended into [name]’s room their black hair fluttered from the wind and their red eyes and fangs glistened in the dark of night, their hands like claws before stepping into the light a little more revealing a tall yet built man he looked angelic despite being a vampire that was friends with a demon, specially Barbatos.

He creeps a little closer to [name]’s room crouching to caress their faces. Making them blink open their eyes.

“... Am I still dreaming?” They question themself. Making the vampire chuckle holding their hands in his and asking.

“Do you mind becoming mine forever?”

“Woah, my wish worked… sure, why not.” He smiled happily placing one of their hands on his cheeks and relished in the warmth that their hand brought to his freezing complexion.

Before they had passed out.

He caught them before they could slam back onto their bed and gently laid them down.

“Don’t miss me too much.”

—

Holy crap what was that dream? 

Maybe I shouldn’t mind it. 

For the next few years, nothing changed except my dreams. Then I turned eighteen and it was out of pure luck that I met him, his name was Elzire.

We got married that same year after a few months of dating which I was totally against but then he convinced me and it hasn’t been like our marriage has been going great. I don’t like that he wanted me to be a stay-at-home wife.

Don’t get me wrong I appreciate him wanting this for me because he doesn’t want any workload on me but I just feel that it’s unfair for him.

Too bad the only payment he wants from me is to do simple household things but even that he just hires some housecleaning or helpers instead of letting me do it and when he comes home to get his pillow, it’s nice to play with his hair, might be better than mine.

Today again though I’m stuck at home and there’s nothing to do as I finished everything, it’s not hard when only two people are living in this house.

I went to look through the mail before finding a letter addressed to me.

It’s from Alfred, but I had never told him where I moved… It’s fine, this is Alfred we’re talking about.

“Dear young master, [name], 

How have you been? It's been 7 years since we last saw you or contacted you, I managed to get a glimpse of you and was able to deliver this to you.

Your family has long awaited meeting you again, if you could give them the chance to see you that would be lovely.

Sincerely, 

Alfred Pennyworth.”

I looked over my shoulder to Elzire before responding.

“I got a letter from my old butler Alfred, saying that my family would like to meet with me again.”

“So suddenly, darling?” He raised his eyebrow at that. Seems he was as lost as I was. I told him everything like he was my therapist so he knew too well himself why this wouldn’t make sense.

-

Despite my hesitance, I decided to go.

"Really Sweetie, you don't have to this isn't something that I would waste my time on, so neither should you." One hand on the steering wheel and the other holding my hand.

"Come on, El, I'm curious, 23 years of my life and only now do they care to see me. Wouldn't you also wonder why?"

"Wonder, not meet. but because I love you and I care for you we'll still go." He squeezed my hand a bit before softening his grip again.

We pulled up on the driveway and saw Alfred come out of the manor.

Elzire got out of the car first before opening the door for me, helping me get out.

I approached Alfred before bringing him into an embrace.

"Alfie, it's been so long." I pulled away before directing his attention to Elzire.

"This is Elzire."

"Pleasure to meet you, young sir." Alfred did his bow before leading us to the living room where the whole family was.

"[name]" [M/D] whispered, tears welling up in her eye, standing up and starting to approach me.

I smiled but didn't reciprocate the hug she was trying to give me.

"[name], we realized our mistake. it's time to come home." Bruce told me.

"Well, as much as I'm... grateful for that offer, I've already moved on and had a life, where you guys no longer matter or are related to me anymore."

"What are you-"

"This is my husband, Elzire. And I don't plan to leave him, for this."

Guys I quit on this if you couldn't notice the ending was rushed so badly, I'm so sorry to the one who sent the request I know this isn't what you would like but I kind of had a mind exploration, and now I have no idea what or how to write this request.

Maybe I'll rewrite this in the future but for now, this is the main result. If you were looking for a confrontation. It's kind of the situation of this Special.

Genuinely y'all could make your own or imagine this scenario. I have no idea what I'm doing anyway, thank you so much for reading this I don't think I'm tagging anybody on this and supporting other batfam authors, especially with all the hate that I've been seeing Luckily I haven't received anything.

Bye-bye, if anything is too unclear and grammatically wrong inform me!

Elzire:

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

-ILoveeeMoney

[madam-herta]

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚HSR Characters Hobbies + You⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

☾ Dan Heng, Kafka, Silver Wolf, Gepard, Dr. Ratio, Argenti, Firefly (Separate) X GN!Reader

☾ 1.1k Words

☾ Summary: All the HSR characters have a hobby, so what if they did that hobby with you!

☾ Repost from my old account except I added Firefly!

Dan Heng ~ "It's not really a hobby, but I used to read a lot..."

☾ Dan Heng stopped reading when he joined the Astral Express and instead focused his attention on the Archives, but after he got together with you and saw how much you loved to read, he decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to start reading again. He could spend hours reading with you as long as you two are cuddled together in the quietness of the Archives apart from the soft sounds of pages turning. Even if the type of books you read isn't what Dan Heng would read himself, he has no problem listening to your rants about your stories, even trying his best to comfort you when you're crying about a character you love dying. And whenever you recommend a book or just say that a certain book is "really good", he makes sure to start reading it, something that you love about him.

Kafka ~ "I especially love velvet coats, they're so fragile and beautiful. Difficult to maintain — you only have to be a tiny bit careless to ruin the sheen."

☾ Shopping with Kafka is always a fun experience, but when it comes to shopping for just coats, it becomes something else entirely. She could spend from the time that the stores open to the time that they close with your hand in hers, dragging you from store to store looking at luxurious velvet coats and modeling them for you. But Kafka's not just there for herself, no, it is a MUST that her lover also gets a fabulous coat. She'll consider your tastes and whatever will look the best on you to make sure her little darling gets the perfect coat, and once she's found it and sees you wearing it, she is convinced that there could never be a person more beautiful than you. And you don't need to worry about paying, it's Kafka's treat.

Silver Wolf ~ "Burying my head under a pillow for a siesta, and pinching cute things."

☾ A short nap was Silver Wolf's favorite way to recharge whenever she got too tired from a mission and didn't feel like gaming, you with her. Silver Wolf would bury you and her under a mound of blankets, pillows, and plushies, laying her head on top of your chest, claiming that this was the most comfortable way to sleep when you complained that it was hot. But you pushed through the heat with the sight of your girlfriend peacefully snoozing on top of you, looking so cute that you couldn't resist leaving a small kiss on top of her forehead. And when Silver Wolf wakes up, she can't help but pinch your cheeks whether you're sleeping or awake, giggling because she also finds you adorable.

Gepard ~ "I grow flowers, *sigh* ...It's just that I'm not very good at it."

☾ In your and Gepard's shared home, there is a tiny garden that the two of you keep together, filled with an abundance of beautiful flowers, especially magnolia, white jasmine, and baby's breath (even if they are not as healthy and vibrant as you two wished they were.) Despite that, you two still have fun gardening together, getting your hands dirty while planting the seeds, watching the flowers go from tiny sprouts to full blooms, and even sometimes taking some flowers from the garden to turn them into small bouquets and giving them to Serval, Lynx, and Pela. And when Gepard is too busy patrolling and protecting Belebog, it is your personal duty to make sure that the flowers are taken care of until he returns. The garden that Geparp keeps is his secret pride (even if it is true that he's not that good at growing flowers), so it makes him happy to see that you care for it as much as him.

Dr. Ratio ~ "I can't stay away from books and bathtubs, especially the former. When one's head is stuffed with filth, one's body is no cleaner."

☾ For the most part, Dr. Ratio prefers to take his baths alone, but there are times when you ask so sweetly if you can join him and he just can't say no. When you decide to join him, you'll set up the bathroom for the both of you, with small candles on the floor, lavender-infused bubbles swimming on top of the water, and your personal favorite, a little rubber duckie that you got to match Dr. Ratio's. When he's in the tub with you, he likes having your back against his chest, one arm on your shoulder, and his free hand holding the latest textbook he's reading. But if you ask to wash his hair or back, he'll remark how he can do that himself and that he doesn't need help, but that's just his way of hiding how much he truly adores the feeling of your hands softly running through his hair and scrubbing his back, so despite his complaints, he's more than happy to let you clean him.

Argenti ~ "I have a preference for thick, crusty baguettes. Slice them thinly so they're easier to store — a crucial snack for extended voyages."

☾ Before setting off on long journeys, there's nothing more that Argenti loves than spending the whole day with you in the kitchen baking bread. While he does prefer baguettes, he also loves trying to bake other types of bread products that you suggest, like rolls or pretzels, and taking them with him if he can, if not, don't worry, you two can just eat them after. To Argenti, it doesn't matter whether you're a good baker or not, for him it's the moment you two spend together, trying out new recipes, laughing at each other's flour-covered selves, and the warmth of the kitchen where you make precious memories with your lover.

Firefly ~ “Wild grass, berries, butterflies, a cool breeze... When I want fresh air, I like to go out where the plants grow wild and touch the life-filled world with my own hands.”

☾ There was nothing better than walking hand-in-hand with Firefly on a beautiful scenic trail. There was a sort of tranquility that came from being off a mission and spending the time walking on different trails in new planets while chatting with Firefly and enjoying the scenery. You two would occasionally stop to point at pretty flowers or cute animals that would come along the path, turning to face each other with matching looks of excitement at how beautiful the world can be. Continuing on, you guys would pick berries along the way, occasionally munching on them, enjoying the sweet yet tartness, and giggling at the way the berry juice would get on your chins, then wiping it off for each other. Eventually though, after you guys have walked for a long time, or were too tired to continue on, you two would find a nice grassy area to sit in, taking in the sun, the air, and the moment, until you guys decided to call it a day and head back.

[gojomamashouse]

Taking Care of You

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x babysitter!reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (M receiving), breeding kink, praise kink, Fem!reader. Very minor mentions of injury & blood.

Description: He had never considered himself too fond of domestic life until you came into his house and made it feel like home.

A/N: crossposted on my Ao3 and Tumblr.

3.7k words

18+ content! Minors and ageless blogs dni!

You remember the first time you came over to babysit for Mike all too clearly. You remember the way your eyes went wide when the door opened, and how your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. More importantly, you remember thinking that Mike Schmidt was far too hot for his own good, a clear image in your mind of how he had greeted you with tired eyes, messy hair, and a hand gripping the doorframe.

"Mr. Schmidt," you had blurted, ignorant to how his nose scrunched at the words leaving your mouth, "It's nice to—"

"Don't tell me I look that old?" His tired expression tried a smile, and you found yourself standing there, unable to formulate a proper response as you were already convinced you messed up the job before you even started. "Just Mike is fine.”

Back then, the only thing you knew about him was that he was hot, overworked, and clearly exhausted. So you did your best to make his life easier, even if those things were small, like cleaning all the dishes before he came home, tidying up all the clutter left behind on the table and kitchen counter. It wasn’t much, but you figured he could use whatever help he could get. He came home the first night, too tired to even notice before collapsing on the couch. Suppressing a giggle, you threw a blanket over his sleeping form, lingering a moment longer than you should have just to observe his face. Even in his sleep, you weren’t sure you could find even an ounce of peace in his expression.

—

Mike remembers the first week of your babysitting, when he returned home at some ungodly hour that Friday. While most babysitters in the past opted to lay on the couch, sleeping or watching TV, he had discovered that you preferred to be a bit more proactive. That night, in particular, he recalled your humming in the kitchen, rinsing the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher.

A strange feeling filled his chest at the sight, the smell of dinner still lingering and the radio playing some old song from his childhood. It was a feeling he shouldn't have been feeling towards the babysitter looking after his little sister. You had jumped when the floorboard creaked beneath himself shifting weight, still shy and jittery around him at the time.

“I didn’t see you come in,” your voice is still shaken from the scare. You turned to the oven, “Oh! I kept the food warm, in case you wanted some. Are you hungry?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he said, blinking a bit to shake the thoughts from his head, “Ah, you don’t have to do all this, you know. The cooking and cleaning stuff.”

“I don’t mind. It’s not like I have anything else to do,” you returned your gaze to the dishes in the sink, “Besides, you work hard. It’s the least I can do. Just let me take care of it.”

Just let me take care of it.

A phrase he hadn’t yet forgotten, either. When was the last time anyone had taken care of anything for him? He’d taken on the role of being Abby’s caretaker the moment his parents were out of the picture. He had made countless sacrifices, dropping out of school to work full-time, losing his social life. His old friends preferring to go out partying rather than hang out with the guy who has a kid sister and a full-time job. Every day was work, only to mess up at work. Then go home, stress over a dirty home. Drive Abby to school, stress over her education and development.

He didn’t have it within himself to deny you, not when you were so kind and helpful. Even if the guilt ate away at him, reminding him how he couldn’t even afford to pay you close to what you deserved.

His eyes wandered to an image on the counter. There was himself, a familiar stickman with brown hair. There was Abby, of course, given the height difference. And then there was another figure, the hair undeniably similar to yours. All three figures were holding hands together inside a square home.

“What’s this?” He picked it up.

“Abby told me it’s us,” you had laughed, placing a dish in the dishwasher. “Cute, right?”

There was a thumping in his chest as he looked at you, before looking back down at the paper. All he could manage was a smile as he pinned it to the fridge.

You soon felt his presence at your side, his hand picking up another dish while you rinsed yours.

“Let me help with that,” he said.

—

You’ve fallen into a routine. Every day, when he returns home, he is met with the same thing. You, in the kitchen, humming. You, greeting him with a smile. You, sitting down to eat with him. You, always asking him about his day even though you know by now that he has nothing interesting to say. He prefers to hear you talk instead, to listen to you ramble about your shitty college professors and annoying roommates. He likes it like this. To be able to pretend that he’s not some deadbeat who can’t hold down a job to save his life or some traumatized freak haunted by the memories of his dead brother and parents. With you, he gets to pretend like he’s normal.

But, of course, just because he can pretend things are normal, doesn’t mean they are. Reality soon hits him when he’s sitting in his boss’s office, asking Mike for his badge and ID. It hits him when he’s driving home, remembering how he beat an innocent man, his knuckles still bloody as he grips the steering wheel tight. He walks through the front door, hearing you greet him from the kitchen, a sound that would have been music to his ears any other day.

“Mike?”

He doesn’t have the energy to reply. No, all he can do is walk over to the chair in the living room, sinking into it with a sigh. He loosens his tie and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the sound of dishes clattering in the sink followed by your footsteps against the hardwood floor.

“Hey, you okay?” Your voice is soft and gentle. His eyes shoot open when he feels your even softer touch against his forehead, laying the back of your palm flat. “You’re not sick, are you?”

In all the time you’ve been babysitting, neither of you had done so much as touch each other at all. The few times he could remember was how your fingers brushed when you reached for the same dish in the sink or the innocent hand you placed on his shoulder that one time you laughed so hard you couldn’t hold yourself up. He had always made sure to keep his hands firmly placed in his pockets or at his side. Now, you were touching his face, and he thinks that’s the first time anyone has touched him like that in years.

“Don’t worry about me.” He pleads, his body betraying his words when he leans into your touch, your hand drifting to caress his cheek, “You don’t have to.”

You ignore him, and your eyes scan over his form, before landing on his bloodied knuckles. A gasp escapes you, followed by the scolding of his name. He hears you stumble towards the bathroom, rummaging through whatever you can find and returning with a washcloth and disinfectant. You kneel beside him, cleaning the dried blood from his wounds and he winced from the sting of the alcohol.

“I know I don’t have to,” you finally break the silence. “I worry because I care.”

“Why?”

You avert your gaze.

“I just do.”

“That’s not a good enough answer.” He presses. There’s another pause.

“Because this feels like home.”

The answer is enough to render both of you silent, you out of humiliation, and him out of shock because he hadn’t realized you thought the same way.

You finish wiping the last bit of dried blood from his knuckles and there’s a lingering feeling left on his skin, where your fingers held his hands. Soft. Familiar. You’re still kneeling in front of him, but you’re wearing an expression he hadn’t seen since the first week he met you. It’s that look of shyness, the way you used to squirm under his gaze or shrink your presence out of fear of overstepping a boundary.

“Mike?”

“Yeah?

“Let me take care of you. Please?”

He knows it’s wrong. He knows that “messing around with the babysitter” has never been a good idea in the history of ever, but when he sees you gazing up at him like that, sitting on your knees between his legs, your eyes wide like that. Well, what the fuck else is he supposed to do?

The chair isn’t too high from the floor, so he easily finds himself at somewhat your level when he leans forward, his hand lifting your chin to look him in the eye. He pauses, analyzing your face just for a moment. Your lips are parted, so prettily, and your eyes are filled with a look of lust and desperation.

“Please,” you repeat, this time in a whisper.

Any semblance of self-restraint he had before was all lost the moment his lips met yours. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until he got a taste, a groan escaping his throat when he feels your tongue in his mouth. And you, you are so pliant. So eager to please. Still timid, hands hesitant as they rested on his knees, but so willing to let him handle you however he pleases, moaning when he tugs on your hair, whimpering when his hands grope your chest through your shirt.

“Quiet,” he mutters between kisses. You feel him pull away, the ghost of his lips at your ear, “we gotta be quiet, yeah?”

You nod, and he kisses your forehead, a tender change from his rough kisses shared only moments prior. He looks down at you, a flustered mess, but knows he must look the same. He couldn’t even remember the last time he let himself indulge like this. He feels your hand slither up his thigh, fumbling with his belt, groaning when you feel him through his jeans.

“You’ve had a long day, haven’t you?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes as your hand dips into his boxers.

“You have no idea,” he says, his hand caressing the side of your face, making circles with his thumb against your cheek. He can feel your skin heat up under his touch. Your hand wraps around his hardening cock, and he has to stop himself from bucking into you. You’re just so gentle and sweet and he knows you’d let him take his frustration out but he just cannot allow himself to do that just yet— not without a little guilt.

“Then talk to me.”

“Got, ah, fired,” he chokes out, feeling your thumb swipe over his tip, gathering his pre-cum and helping you stroke up and down with more ease. “Was my fault, too.”

“You started a fight, didn’t you?”

“Something like that.”

He looks down at you, his cock now fully hard in your hand. He can’t hold but admire the sight, how you hungrily stare at him, or how you press your thighs together to relieve yourself of your own desires. He feels his breathing become heavier with each passing stroke of your hand on his dick, and he forces himself to look away, his hand that had previously been caressing the side of your head now digging his fingers into the back of your scalp.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do now,” he leans his head back, in an attempt to stop himself from busting in your hand before you’ve even done anything. He swears he’s not usually this sensitive, but the fact that it’s been so long, and the fact that it’s you, had him feeling like he was a teenager getting his first handjob all over again. He tries not to think about it. “I’m already behind on bills. I don’t think I can even pay you. Probably won’t even get another fucking job after what I did.”

“You don’t need to pay me.”

“You’ve got to stop saying shit like that,” he shakes his head, almost in disbelief. He looks down at you again, and you’re pressing your lips to kiss the underside of his dick, then kissing his tip. He shudders. “You’re too good for this. For me.”

He’s about to continue, but your lips wrap around him and he can’t think of anything. Curse words slip from his lips, feeling your tongue work around him, your hot mouth taking him. He still has his hand on the back of your head, tempting him to force your head down, but he’s more curious about whether you’d try to take him all yourself— which you do. He feels your throat contract around him as you try to push yourself down his cock, determined to take it all. Sometimes, you really were that predictable. Sure, you were a timid little thing, but you were equally if not more stubborn. He grips the back of your head to pull you off, a cough rising to your throat as you catch your breath and he smiles lazily.

Your quick to take him back in your mouth, and he cherishes the feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and your hands that reached for the base of him to stroke whatever you couldn’t take. He gives an experimental thrust and he’s in bliss when he hears you moan around him. And as much as he wishes he could do this forever, watching you take him in your mouth, he knows his own limits and he knows he won’t last any longer. Besides, he’s neglected your needs for far too long.

He pulls you off of his cock finally, tears stinging the corners of your eyes, your lips puffy from their earlier actions. Then, he’s lifting you to the couch, hovering over your form as your back hits the cushions. Mike is thankful that you chose to wear a skirt tonight because with your legs spread like this, he gets a full view of your white cotton underwear, as well as the wet patch your arousal has created. He brings his hand down between your legs, feeling you through the fabric. He can hear your breath hitch and he watches you bite down on your lower lip to suppress your noises. And as much as he wants to tell you not to, he is reminded by the fact that you are both doing this in the living room, and the last thing he wants to do is traumatize his little sister, who is sleeping a few doors down the hallway.

“Didn’t know you wanted me this bad,” he whispers, finally slipping his hand past the fabric barrier to gather your slick at his fingers and rub your clit with his thumb, his other fingers prodding at your hole but not yet entering.

“Wanted you for so long,” you admit, sucking in a breath when you feel his thumb circle around your clit again. “You’re really fucking hot.”

“Yeah?”

Two of his fingers finally sink into you and you’re gripping the fabric of his uniform at his shoulders. Rough, long and so much bigger than your own— you have to grit your teeth even harder to stop any sinful noises from escaping you.

“Always thought you were real pretty, too.” He continues, “You’re prettier right now, though.”

He continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, the wet sounds making you burn up in embarrassment. He’s obsessed with the way your eyes roll back, how your pretty lashes flutter open and closed, and how your hips buck to meet his rhythm.

“More, please,” you finally let out, your eyes going down to his cock, which was still very much hard. “Need you inside.”

You whimper at the emptiness you feel when his fingers leave, but quickly forget about it the moment your panties are removed and you feel his cock rub against your cunt, the tip resting at your entrance. You expect to feel him push in, only to see that he has paused.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he says, a pained look on his face. He had no reason to keep any around any more, not since providing for Abby had become his number one priority. He mentally kicked himself for it now.

“Mike,” you whine, trying to roll your hips up, but his hands remained firm against you, keeping you down. “I don’t care. Just pull out or something.”

You feel like a pathetic idiot for saying it, and he feels even more of one for considering it at all. All he can manage is a sigh. He’d already crossed so many lines tonight that he shouldn’t have. What difference would crossing one more be?

He hesitates before pushing in, but once he feels your tight walls around the head of his dick he can’t find it within himself to have any regrets. You’re so tight and warm and wet and he loves the way you stretch around him, gasping with every inch he gives you. He pauses when he’s buried at the hilt, mentally trying to cool himself down because the fact that he’s fucking you raw and you’re taking him so well is driving him mad.

“So good,” he coos, his hand on your face, thumb on your lower lip, “so fucking good.”

He pulls away until he’s nearly out again before thrusting into you fully, and he has to slam his hand over your mouth to stop the moan that would have escaped you. He continues to fuck you like this, slowly, and deeply, before it’s not enough, and he finds himself taking you faster, harder, wanting to see how much you were willing to take.

You feel every inch of him inside you, and you can’t help but clench around him every time the tip of his cock hits the spot inside you that you can’t reach with your own fingers. You feel so full and it’s everything and more that you’ve needed for so long.

He pushes up your shirt, revealing your cleavage. Your breasts are still covered by your bra, but he pinches your nipples through the lacy fabric anyway, content when he hears you make a sound, muffled by his other hand which remains on your mouth.

He can tell you’re close from the telltale sign of your pussy clenching harder, and how you start to freeze up, too fucked out to do anything else. He, too, starts to feel himself approaching his limit but knows he has to hold out long enough to let you reach your high first. He finally removes his hand from your mouth and uses it to rub your clit.

“Such a good girl,” he breathes.

“I’ll always be good for you,” you keep your voice a whisper, “Always waiting for you when you come home.”

Your words ignite a desire within him he never realizes he had. He had never considered himself too fond of domestic life until you came into his house and made it feel like home. Now, as he’s fucking you, the only thing he can think about is how deeply he wants to cum inside you, over and over again until he gives you another kid to take care of. He doesn’t care if he can’t afford it. He’ll pick up as many jobs as he can get just to take care of you.

He feels your back arch and your walls clench around him, immediately going to kiss you to swallow your cries. He ruts into you, over and over again and though there’s a sinful voice in the back of his head telling him to fill you up until he’s dripping out of you, he knows he should stay true to his promise to pull out. That is, until you tell him otherwise.

“You can do it inside,” you choke out, still fucked out from your orgasm, “I don’t mind—“

Before you can finish your sentence his hips come to a stop and he’s finishing inside you, as deep as he possibly can, as if to not waste a single drop. When he finally pulls out, he can’t help but watch in awe as his seed drips from your cunt down to your ass, ruining the couch cushions beneath you both. He tries not the think about the consequences that will bring. Instead, he’s pulling you close, catching his breath while laying his head against your stomach. Moments later, he feels your hand running your fingers through his hair and he sighs, leaning into your warmth.

“I don’t want you to be Abby’s babysitter anymore,” he starts, his voice hoarse and worn out. He can feel you tense up when he says it, before immediately continuing, “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

He hears you laugh.

“Does that mean I won’t get paid anymore?”

“I’ll repay you in other ways,” he flashes you a suggestive smile, earning him a snort and a flick on his forehead. Still, the guilt gnaws at him from within. “Seriously, though. I will. I’ll take care of you, too.”

He doesn’t care what job he picks up next. He’ll take any job in the world, so long as it means he can provide for you and Abby.

—

You wake up the next morning, the scent of pinewood and campfire surrounding you. You don’t remember exactly how, but you remember, after being fucked mercilessly, being carried to his room, cleaned up, and falling asleep in Mike’s bed. Now, you find the place next to you empty but can observe Mike standing at the door, speaking in a hushed voice while holding back the door.

You stand on shaky legs, still wobbly from your earlier affairs, approaching the argument.

“Abby, go away!”

“No! Let me—“

“What’s all this?” You interject.

Mike loses his grip on the door and Abby opens it wide. Her arms are crossed, adorning a frown while Mike is bringing his hands to his face.

“Abby, I can explain—“

“Why didn’t you tell me you guys were having a sleepover?” She fumes, “We could have built a pillow fort!”

[uh-velkommen]

Anyone who knows me knows that I have ALWAYS been a very politically vocal person. I also used to spend a majority of my time on Instagram. But when 2020 hit I became such an unrecognizable person that I had to delete Instagram and cut myself off from everyone just to regain my center and sense of self.

I didn't know it at the time but I think with my autistic sense of justice coupled with my paranoia (like diagnosable, serious paranoia) and how stressful my living situation was at the time, it was the perfect blend for a ticking time bomb. I became so uncontrollably consumed with politics that I would attack anyone and everyone. I was experiencing full mania, posting nonstop on Instagram, arguing with people I followed, cutting off family members, not sleeping, overworking myself protesting, and when I wasnt protesting, I wouldnt leave my bed, all while dealing with the stress of the pandemic, a subpar diet in my neglectful choldhood home, and a lack of space to call my own. Even if I seemed collected on the outside, my insides felt like boiling water. I never got a moment of calm. It was autistic overstimulation amplified. I also felt such a sense of hopeless and really rathered Id be dead than continue trying. All these emotions but I just couldn't stop. I wasn't in control.

After some time, I found my normal again, but it made me so scared to speak out about anything because I didn't want to spiral again. I ignored the news, I muted people who talked about politics, I avoided all things political and any semblance of a political conversation at all costs. I'd never been so quiet before. This was around the time Ukraine and Isreal started becoming the hot topic. You can see it here. All my political posts just stop sometime around 2021. And even though I chose to stop "spreading awareness" about things, I started to feel this immense guilt that I was seemingly not doing my part. Or that my IG account now looked like BLM was a fad I participated in, and I couldn't care less about those pesky Palestinians /sarcasm. All the while, I was dying inside NOT talking about it.

I used that time to read up on the history of the Israel-Palestine conflict, I was reaching out to my high school friends who were now growing families in Palestine, I was trying to think of way to engage in the movement that didn't involve reposting the same 5 Instagram posts that everyone was already sharing, and that didn't involve financial investment as that was SO not a possibility for me. I boycotted what I could, but I was living in Sweden by that time, so it was a boycot by circumstance.

Now, with this whole Banning TikTok debacle, I am just so mad that no one can see that it's a political attack. Ever since 2020, the government has been mad at us for using it as a means of education and organization. That's when the whole subject of banning it arose. We -as in American people - are being punished for utilizing our First Amendment right. That of protesting and organizing (not the stupid misinterpretation of "I can say whatever I want" used by right wingers). It seems like everyone has forgotten that and are just whining about their brainrot being taken away or getting on Twitter to rave about what social media is doing to us. People outside of the US are laughing as if this isn't a modern-day example of mass censorship happening right in front of our eyes. And suddenly, I can feel the boiling water moving up from my toes. Suddenly, I want to slap everyone across the face and get them to wake up. Open your eyes, people! I'm tired of sitting back with this, "we'll there's nothing we can really do that we haven't been doing already" attitude. I want to burn down the white house. I want people to stop treating Luigi Magione like some Robin Hood sex image. I don't want to just settle for this loss of autonomy and progress. I don't want to feel like a minority within a minority within a minority within a minority. What else is there to do when everyone has settled for just dealing?

[nonranghaes]

joshua's a little too focused on the way you're washing his hair now, head leaned back over the sink as you work. sure, the way you're looking at him now with your nose crinkled in disgust isn't the ideal way for you to look at him... but the feeling of your fingers in his hair makes up for it.

"what the hell was wrong with jeonghan?" you frown to yourself. "i mean, how hard is it to not spill half a milkshake on someone's head...?"

joshua knows exactly what happened and he refuses to give that up. he saw the thumbs up jeonghan gave him when you got worked up, offering to help him wash it out of his hair. it was... nice to be the center of attention, too, as you wiped off whatever dripped onto his face and clothes. this is jeonghan's way of giving the two of you alone time, which is weird as hell, but... he can't complain about spending time with you.

"i guess he slipped."

you hum a little, fingers running through his hair again. all he can think about is that and the fact you're using your shampoo for him. it's nice. a part of him really likes smelling like you, even if the scent won't last forever.

it's weird, though: the other day, jeonghan kept going on about how tired he was of having friends who were 'kind of dumb' about their feelings. and now jeonghan's dumping the rest of his milkshake on his head and pushing for you to help clean him up--

"oh my god." he nearly jerks up as you're pressing the sprayer against his scalp.

"shit, is it too hot?" you pull it back to test it on your own hand. "fuck, shua, i'm--"

"you're in love with me."

you stop what you're doing, staring at him. "what?"

fucking leave it to jeonghan to figure it all out and set this scene in motion in his own way. he's probably still downstairs, laughing with seungcheol at how stupid both you and joshua are to not have picked up on it sooner.

joshua shuts his eyes. "oh my god. we're so fucking dumb."

you don't move at all. then, a second later, he feels water running over his scalp. "so... you're...?"

"yeah." he opens his eyes a moment later. "for a while, yeah."

at first, you don't say anything back to him. you just continue to wash the shampoo out of his hair, and he lives for your touch right now. you're so careful not to tug too hard at his hair, just snaking your fingers through it as you ensure you've washed all of the suds out.

"you wanna officially ditch them, then?" you ask after a moment. "once your hair is dry? we could, i dunno, go to a mall. maybe share a pretzel. maybe catch a movie?"

and he just laughs, so endeared to you. "i'd love that."

[infevious]

WISH YOU WERE SOBER

sum: confessing to him when you’re drunk

pairing: kinich x gn reader

contains: drunken confession, slight mention of his backstory

a/n: i was listening to “wish you were sober” by Conan Gray and thought of this, this is my first fic so uhhhh enjoy 😀😊⁉️ i have not written a fanfic since middle school and im high asf rn so it might be bad LOL might be ooc

———————————————————————————

This party's shit

Kinich sat around while everyone else was celebrating, he saw how you drank bottle after bottle. It hurt to see someone he cared about so deeply drink, it reminded him of his father, who he hated. But he couldn’t hate you, even if he tried.

wish we could dip, go anywhere but here

After a while you sat next to him, he didn’t want to come; he came for you. You excitedly asked if he was going to the celebration your tribe was having, he only agreed because he knew you would be there.

Don't take a hit, don't kiss my lips

You were awfully clingy when drunk, an equally drunk mualani had to pry you off her. You did the same to him; grabbing his arm and whining.

“I love you so much thank you for being my friend!” you cried

friend.

That’s all he was to you, just a friend.

And please don't drink more beer

He took the bottle away from you, poring what was left of it onto the floor and placing the empty bottle on the crate he was sitting on. He rolled his eyes as you whined

“You drank enough for tonight”

It hurt to see you drink so heavily, but he would never tell you that.

I'ma crawl outta the window now, ‘Cause I don't like anyone around

He looked around at everyone there, drunk, dancing, and celebrating. He never really talked to any of them and didn’t plan to, after all he only came for you. The few people he did talk to was strictly business. He slowly got up and took his arm away from your grip.

Kinda hope you're followin' me out

But this is definitely not my crowd

“Wait..!”

He turned around to see you stumbling behind him.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m tired” Lies.

“…Me too..um- can- can you walk me home? I’m scared to- to go alone”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want you waking home alone in this state either..”

Nineteen, but you act twenty-five now

You always thought he was mature for his age, in Mualani’s words he always “has a stick up his ass”. You couldn’t blame him though, with the environment he grew up in..

Trip down the road, walking you home

“Come on, trouble magnet”

He waited for you to catch up and put an arm around your waist holding you up so you wouldn’t fall, you could barely walk and he was annoyed, sad even.

“The stars are so pretty”

“It’s really hot..”

“Woah look at the moon!”

He was getting tired of your endless sentences. He couldn’t understand how you could be such a heavy drinker. Was it a coping skill? He went through a lot and never thought about picking up a bottle. Did you enjoy the feeling? He wouldn’t know, he always swore to never try it. He didn’t want to end up like him.

Pullin' me close, beg me, "Stay over"

“Stay over..it’s too late and- I dont want to be alone right now”

He looked down at your drunken state, eyes half lidded, cheeks red; you looked so beautiful. He was always confused on how you were never like his father when drunk, you were always smiling, laughing, dancing, the complete opposite of him.

But I'm over this roller-coaster

He listened to you talk about whatever popped up into your mind, he turned to look at you after you’ve been quiet for some time. You were just looking at him, his lips.

“This- this is a dream right..?”

He looked at you confused, dream? Where did that come from?

“Sure, yeah this is a dream”

He didn’t really think anything of it, were you going to tell him an embarrassing memory? A secret no one else was supposed to know? Or- no. You would never..you said it yourself he was just a friend.

He looked at you, the moon light making you look almost angelic. He noticed you looking at his lips and then his eyes.

“If this is a dream then i can…”

He felt your lips press against his and it felt like time had stopped.

You pulled away, whispering an ‘I really like you’ before passing out almost immediately. He just sat there, a million thoughts rushing through his head. What the hell just happened? He looked down at you and noticed a small smile.

Real sweet, but I wish you were sober

[cute-sucker]

Hi! I wanna request a story of like kook reader having a crush on Rafe and her friends always warns her about his behaviors but she doesn’t care at all and continues to admire him and he definitely notices it but he’s so nonchalant and cold about it😭😭

rafe cameron was your world. 

if it was up to you, the sun set on him, and the moon awakened when his face came into view. it was cheesy you knew, after all, you had been his neighbour forever, but you couldn't help but find yourself drawn to his behaviour. when either it was his looks or the cocky smile that he had. whatever it was, it was not okay. 

well, you didn't see a problem with it. it was just a crush. just something to smile about sometimes, or think about. that's what you had promised some of your friends. but sometimes your friend mindy would tap your shoulder as she mouthed a soft "no," "no." 

at a certain point, you had become wheezie's babysitter in hopes of getting closer to rafe. it was pathetic you knew, but wheezie was such a sweet girl that you loved it even more. days at tanyhill were filled with finger paintings and fairy tales. sometimes you would go all out and let wheezie cook, although that did entail both of you getting completely covered in flour. and that was how you met him. formally. 

you had been smiling up at wheezie, as she told you the gingerbread cookies looked more crooked than usual. you had batted it off telling her that the two of you just had different styles. still you were covered in flour as rafe walked in. while you did have a small crush on him, you tried to ignore him as much as possible. if he was in a room, you walked out choking, blushing so hard. you were just so shy, you could barely say a word. 

yet here you were on the floor as you giggled with wheezie. the two of you were tired. until a voice rang out. 

"what the hell is going on? the place is a mess. shit." 

you felt your heart race as you got up, while wheezie continued to roll on the floor telling you how this perspective of the world was wicked. finally, rafe came into view, eyes squinted as his eyebrows were furrowed. "who the hell are you?" 

wheezie rolled her eyes, "oh my god, rafe can you be more embarrassing. she's my babysitter?" his expression stayed confused before he shrugged it off walking to the fridge, wheezie scoffed, "damn rafe do you even pay attention-" 

"hey!" he snapped, swinging the fridge open to take out a carton of milk, a warning finger in the air, "don't swear." 

at this wheezie scoffed, putting her hands on her hips, "you do it all the time, i don't know why i can't-"

"wheezie, i'm older than you," he interjected, and then he held the milk carton up to his lips. wheezie winced, making a disgusted face, as she pushed him away from the fridge. rafe stumbled away a satisfied grin on his face, ruffling wheezie's hair.  

"ugh, boys you know," wheezie huffed, closing the fridge door with a bang.  

finally wheezie looked up at you, almost as if she was realising you had said nothing and arched an eyebrow at your expression, placing a comforting pink manicured hand on your shoulder. it was humorous how the 13 year old was trying to make you feel better. her nails were still a shocking neon pink with sparkles. 

"don't feel too bad. rafe is weird." the two of you left it at that before going back to making cookies. 

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉

"and then he came in, like all khakis, and that hot polo shirt," you giggled into your phone, kicking your feet. your friend mindy made a hurrupted sound on the phone, "i met him, like actually met him. why aren't you as excited about this?" 

suddenly the phone went silent, and you could hear her soft breathing, "i dunno, i mean lets think about this rationally," she sighed out, and you groaned, turning over in bed. this meant that hard truths were going to be told. 

"-okay i know you hate this, but you've babysitting for the camerons for what, two years?" 

"three years," you corrected, before realising your error. 

"yeah, three years and he hasn't noticed you at all? hasn't thought to ask, 'hey who's that rando girl staying in our home dad?' at all? they invited you to the midsommers, and to all of their parties. and he doesn't know you?" 

you winced at that, before you pouted turning back on your back, "listen, i know it sounds bad, but i don't know. it'll happen."  

you didn't think about it too hard, but there was a noticeable shift. you were putting a lot of care into changing into a cute dress, or painting your nails with extra care, or making sure you asked wheezie where he was. you didn't think it was obvious, but one time wheezie brought it up. 

"do you have a crush on rafe?" she asked, stuffing her face with the burger you had made her. 

you were taking a gulp out of your lemonade and almost spat it out, "wheezie! don't ask me things like that." 

she blinked at you innocently, "i don't know what you're talking about. it's a valid question," and then she pouted, "i thought you'd tell me everything about yourself." 

"well, no, i don't have a c-crush on your brother," you sputtered out, glaring at wheezie who gave you a sly grin. she quickly let go of the conversation, and the two of you were arguing over jenga and who had won. 

quickly enough the days passed at the tanyhill, you had settled down into the belief that rafe would not notice you. who cared? you had a nice job, wheezie was a sweetheart and mr. cameron loved having you around. it was perfect all of it, until rafe approached it. 

it was for a frat part you could tell. with his backward cap on, a fitted tee, he looked like a dream. the babysitting shift was over, and you were slowly walking outside only to see rafe revving up his motorcycle. 

you found yourself flushing at the whole scene and murmured out a soft 'bye.' as usual, you were ignored, or maybe you were too quiet, goddamn it you were so stupid-

"hey!" 

you turned around to see rafe cupping his face to yell at you. he had pulled off his helmet to talk to you. 

"hey," you stuttered out, grasping at your tote bag. you looked like a total grandma, with your cardigan, and written-on sneakers, "what's up?" 

"just heading off to a party, and uh," he scratched his head, squinting his eyes before tearing his eyes off his motorcycle to look back at you, "wanna come? it's at like nine." 

"sure! of course. yeah, sure," you blurted out, flushing even more. he regarded you again, a well-natured smile flittering across his face. 

"yea, i'll see you then." 

so there it was. an invitation. rafe cameron had invited you to a party. 

maybe this was a start of something.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Beautiful Stranger

I've Never Recognized a Purer Face (1)

Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Fem!Reader

Summary: You've just moved to West View for collage with your parents and your neighbor has caught your attention.

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, R masturbates

A/N: This is an old piece I reworked a bit so here you go until my brain can focus on the prompt requests!

June 14, 2023

You had recently moved to West View, New Jersey with your parents. You'd be starting college here in the Fall along with your dad starting a new job in a week.

The hot summer air made you sweat even in your tank top and shorts, your tattooed body being shown off almost completely. Trying to get everything inside as quickly as possible was proving to be ineffective as you took a moment to collapse under the tree in your front yard, finding solace in the shade. “Gods it's too hot for this.” You grumbled out.

“Can I interest you in some lemonade?” You heard an unfamiliar, feminine voice ask from just above me as you opened your eyes. Your mouth drying up instantly at the sight of the beauty before you. Red hair flowing in waves over her shoulders, green eye like emeralds, her skin splashed with freckles not unlike your own face.

“H-hi…” You somehow managed out.

“Hi there I'm your neighbor, Wanda, Wanda Maximoff.” She pointed behind her at her house which looked identical to your house from the outside.

“I'm Y/N…Y/N Y/L/N.” Luckily your mother came over to save me from your awkwardness.

“Oh hello! I'm Y/M/N Y/L/N and my husband over there is Y/F/N Y/L/N. I see you've already met our Y/N/N.” You groaned, throwing yourself back down. “We just moved in for our little Y/N/N to go to collage and my husband to start a new job.” Your mother gushed.

“Ma please stop. I'm sure Wanda doesn't care about why we moved here.”

“Oh, but sweetie I do. I love the nick name by the way. Y/N/N.” The way it rolled off her tongue and her accent? Fuck it sent a shiver through you like it was the middle of December.

“Please just Y/N is fine.” You begged slightly not knowing if you could handle her using your name like that. “I'm going to go help dad. It was nice meeting you Wanda.” You told the older woman before leaving her with your mom for them to talk. Wanda was about your mom's age so probably twenty years older than me.

“Mom!”

“Mom!” You heard two different boys call at the same time as You came out of the moving van, the boys running up to Wanda. “We're going to go play with the Barton kids is that okay?” One of them asked.

“Of course boys. Go on and be back before the streetlights come on.” Wanda gave each of them a kiss on the forehead. When she leaned back up her eyes met yours. You felt your face flush at the thought of a kiss from the older woman before retreating into the house. The central air cooling you down.

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

July 2,2023

There was a knock at the front door causing you to pause your game on your switch, getting up from the couch. Upon opening the door you were met with Wanda.

“Hi Y/N I know this is super last minute, but my babysitter canceled. Could you watch the boys?” Wanda asked desperately.

“Oh yeah sure of course I can.” You grabbed your keys and phone, following Wanda, totally not staring at her ass the whole time.

“Okay so here is $40 for dinner. Get them whatever they want it'll probably be pizza which the menu is on the fridge for their favorite place. Bedtime is 8pm. Billy is a little sensitive so if he isn't enthusiastic it's not you I promise. Tommy will probably try to pester you, don't let him. Oh and if I'm not back early and you get tired you can sleep in my bed. I'll wake you when I get home. Thank you for this I really appreciate it. Boys! Y/N from next door will be watching you tonight! Please behave for her!” Wanda called the boys barreling down the stairs and past you she gave each a kiss, “Be good you two. I love you.” She told them as they ran back off upstairs and it seems without much thought she kissed your cheek before leaving. Leaving you there with your face burning.

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

You were scrolling through your phone, noticing it was past midnight. You didn't think Wanda would be gone this long. You didn't even ask what she was up to this evening? You got up from the couch, putting away the remaining pizza before quietly making your way upstairs. You checked on the boys who were fast asleep. Their sleeping faces made you smile as you quietly closed the door and found Wanda's room. As soon as you opened the door Wanda's scent of jasmine and sage overpowering you and sending a shot straight through your core. Closing the door behind you, swallowing hard as you sat on the bed; it is so soft. You lay down, your head on Wanda's pillow as her scent completely overtakes you and you can't help, but move your fingers between your legs, rubbing your clit furiously as you were completely wrapped up in Wanda. Moaning softly against her pillow as you came to the thought of her. You pulled your hand out, breathing heavily as you sucked your own fingers clean. You were in so deep and You knew it. It's not fair though Wanda didn't look like she was almost 40 she still looked like she was in her 20s and didn't have twin 5 year old boys.

You groaned against her pillow in frustration as You buried your face into it, getting under her duvet making it feel like Wanda was holding you and soon enough you fell asleep.

“Hey, sweet girl, come on wake up pretty girl.” You heard a gentle voice call.

“Mmm?” You turned to look over your shoulder, it was Wanda. “What time is it?” You asked sleep heavy in your voice.

“Really late sweet girl. You can stay if you want. I don't mind, I just ask that you move to the other side so I can sleep here on my pillows.” Wanda's voice was soft and she moved your hair out of your face.

You grumbled a bit, but moved over to the other set of pillows. You did move them ever so slightly to be closer as you turned to face her side of the bed as she settled in.

“Good night sweet girl. Thank you for everything.” You felt Wanda lean over once again placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Mmm s’ no problem…” You mumbled falling back to sleep almost instantly as her presence soothed you knowing she was home and safe now.

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

You woke up in her bed, sitting up you rubbed your eyes as you heard a door open. Looking up to see Wanda through blurry eyes as you reached for your glasses on her side table.

“Good morning sweet girl. Did you sleep well?” Her unblurred form came into view, her hair was only slightly damp, a pair of dark gray, flared dress pants, a tucked in cream colored button down that she purposefully left the top ones unbuttoned to show her amazing cleavage off. She was currently grabbing a hair clip to get her hair up which once she did looked amazingly effortlessly beautiful.

“Good.” You manage as your breath hitches remembering what you did in this bed last night.

“Well you certainly don't have to stay, but I am making breakfast. Pancakes.” Wanda wiggled her eyebrows at me making me laugh.

“Can you make chocolate chip pancakes?” You ask shyly.

“For you? Yes. Come on.” She started making her way out and you followed, grabbing your phone.

The boys were already downstairs watching cartoons, Wanda giving them each a kiss on the top of the head.

“Why is Y/N still here?” Tommy asked, noticing me as You went to sit at the kitchen island.

“I told her she could stay the night because of how late I'd be getting back, is that okay with you little man?” Wanda asked and he shrugged.

“I guess. She's better than dad.” Tommy off-handedly states catching both Wanda and you off guard.

“Excuse me?” Wanda's voice is stern suddenly and it feels like You shouldn't be here.

“I'm just saying that I like her better.” Tommy spent one night hanging around you and is now stating he likes you better than the father you didn't even consider they probably have somewhere.

“Thomas Oleg Maximoff. I know things aren't the best with your father right now, but that isn't nice.” Wanda is stern with her son in this moment who recoils slightly.

“I'm sorry mom…” he says with his head down.

“I know you're having a lot of big feelings about everything going on between your father and I right now, but he's still your father.” Wanda's voice softens a bit. You hadn't really seen it other than in exaggerated tiktoks, but Wanda seems to have the gentle parent style, much unlike your parents who had a very authoritative style. The two hug it out before Wanda joins you in the kitchen.

She silently moves about the kitchen as she grabs things and when it comes to chocolate chips she has bags just about every kind you can think of.

“Which kind do you want sweet girl?” Wanda asks and you feel overwhelmed at first. You decided to do a triple chip of milk, white, and peanut butter chips. “I see you have a big sweet tooth.” She comments.

“Yeah. I always have. I used to get cavities a lot as a kid cause I didn't brush properly, but I got better as I got older.” You told her, grabbing a handful of chips which she smacked your hand playfully. You laughed and took another, sticking your tongue out.

“Oh naughty girl.” She teased and you felt a heat inside again as you shifted in your seat, trying to alleviate it slightly. You saw Wanda flick her eyes at you, before going back to her pancakes. Had she noticed? Surely she hadn't.

“Boys! Breakfast!” Wanda had gotten out a whole plethora of goodies it felt more like we were having dessert. Syrup, butter, whip cream, peanut butter, chocolate sauce. You'd never seen so much effort go into something like this.

You all moved to the dinning table as the boys dug into their stacks covering their pancakes in syrup until they were drowning.

Wanda grabbed coffee for the two of you and milk for the boys.

“Thank you.” You smiled taking a sip and revealed in the warmth it provided you.

“Of course sweet girl. Now tell me. You're starting college in a month right?” Wanda asked and you nodded as you ripped up your pancake, taking a bite.

“Yes. I took a few years off. Was only supposed to be a year then one thing led to another and it turned into three years.” You explained.

“So you're twenty?” You shook your head.

“Sorry I should explain I was taking a gap year from college after I had to deal with some personal things. I left college when I was twenty, planning to go back in a year, but now I'm twenty-three.” Wanda nodded her head.

“What will you be majoring in?”

“Well originally I was doing psychology. I wanted to go into children's psych, but realized it was a lot of work that I personally couldn't keep up with. Then I was thinking about history, but then I'd have to double major into teaching to do anything meaningful with it, so now I'm going for cyber security.” You smiled, finally explaining your weird college timeline. Wanda laughed a bit.

“You've certainly had an interesting ride, pretty girl.” Wanda leaned on the table and you didn't miss the look Tommy was throwing between his mother and you.

“Yeah I'm just happy to get back on track. The cyber security program teaches from the bottom up and I can get some pretty good offers through the college and freelancing is always an option. I'm already good at programming so maybe I can make my own security program.”

“I'm sure you can do anything you set your mind to pretty girl.” You smile and blush, bashful, at her compliments. You stare down at your mostly finished pancakes.

“Thank you…”

[chleem]

Flashing Lights #4

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping, (read at own caution

⋆.˚ please dont copy/translate my work

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter3 | index | chapter5

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Shit,” you murmur. Somehow, the room card doesn’t work when you swipe it up and down. You just woke up from a nap in the car, and still felt dizzy.

“We’ve been standing here for five minutes,” Drew’s voice reminds you of his presence, who you’ve forgotten about for the last…yeah, five minutes. Yet it felt like five hours, because this damn card wouldn’t work. 

“Shut up,” you groan, still going at it. Your arms and legs felt heavy, so this task was ten times harder than it usually was. 

His hand suddenly takes the card away from you, and he presses it against the lock. The door opens, and you stare at him dumbfounded. It was that easy?

Eager to sit down, you don’t even say thanks and just rush in, kicking your heels off. You take a quick scan of the room. It was a nice suite that Laura arranged, having a small living room, kitchen, bedroom and more. You head to the bedroom, plopping yourself down on the bed. You didn’t care if you had dirty clothes on, hell, it was your bed, you can sleep on it however you want. 

You close your eyes, ready to drift back to sleep, but Drew’s voice interrupts you. “There’s only one bed.”

That makes you sit yourself back up, and you look around. Yeah. He is right, only one bed. Stupid Laura, she couldn’t have gotten a suite with two bedrooms? You look at Drew, leaned against the doorway, his eyes already on you. 

You want the bed. And the look he gives you shows he also wants the bed. 

“I’m sleeping here,” you voice out first, calling dibs. 

“You don’t get to choose,” he quickly says, crossing his arms. “The bed is mine.”

You scoff. “Yours? Maybe the floor is yours, but I’m sleeping on this bed. I need it.”

“You need it? Just ‘cause of some drinks? No, I need it, after spending an entire day with you.”

“Hey, my head hurts like shit. And I’m already laying on it. I’m sleeping here.”

“Fuck no.”

“Go argue with the wall,” you say, laying back down on your back and closing your eyes. This bed is comfortable, and in your tired state, it's the best bed ever. Fuck Drew, he can go sleep on the couch or the floor. This bed is yours. 

——

A hot towel startles you, forcing you to wake up. 

You find the reason behind it; Drew. 

He’s sat on the bed next to you, half naked. Is this part of your dream? 

“Hey; get the fuck off. You stink.”

Okay. Definitely not a dream. “What?” You say, still staring at him. Your eyes lead themselves down his body, at his chest where you notice a necklace, abs that god probably helped sculpture, and sweatpants that hugs his lower waist. Now that he’s sitting next to you, you get a clear look of his body. He definitely works out. 

“A picture would last longer.”

You quickly avert your eyes back up to his face, seeing his stupid smirk. Asshole. Sitting up, you look around and down at your body. He was right; you stink from the alcohol and you feel dirty. How long did you sleep anyways? “Get the hell away from me,” you say, the best comeback you could think of right now. 

Drew shrugs in a ‘whatever’ type of way, moving further up the bed. You watch as he makes himself comfortable, eyes now glued onto his phone. 

You get up and walk to the living room, finding your suitcase and opening it. You grab your underwear and a random shirt, before heading to the bathroom. 

——

“Hey, you’re in my bed.”

Is he dead? You tap on his chest again. “Hey, get up.”

This isn’t working. So, you slap his chest real hard this time, and that causes him to startle awake. He rubs his eyes, and you’re not helping by pointing your phone flashlight directly at him. “What the fuck?” He curses, turning to lay on his back.

“You’re in my bed,” you repeat, more annoyed this time. 

“Can’t you see I’m already laying in it?” He hits you with a familiar line to something you said earlier. 

“Yes, but I claimed it first,” you say, not caring how bratty you sounded. He’s seen worse of your attitude, so you might as well fight for this bed in the most annoying and childish way. “You’re a guy, you can handle sleeping on the couch.”

Drew’s eyes are squinted, mainly due to the light flashed on him. But you couldn’t care less. Until, the corner of his lips curl up again. “I’m not listening to a fucking ogre.”

Now you’re pissed. You grab the pillow from under him, hitting his face repeatedly with it. The phone drops to the floor, but you only cared about causing damage to Drew’s face. Well, a pillow was weak but it was all you got in your sudden burst of anger. 

“Hey-“

"Stop-"

You ignore his calls for you to stop, hitting him with the pillow repeatedly.

Only when his hand suddenly grabs your wrists, and he flips you over onto the bed, is when you stop. He hovers over you, pinning your wrists above you. You’re breathing heavily from hitting him, and his necklace that dangles near your face pisses you off even more. 

“Get the fuck-“

“Y/n,” he cuts you off, and you realize he’s also breathing heavily. The little light from your phone on the ground shows enough for you to see Drew, his expression tired but mean, his blue eyes glaring into yours. “It's 3 fucking am. I just want to have some sleep. In a comfortable fucking bed. So leave me alone, got it?”

He should’ve known better than to say that shit to you, because you weren’t someone who easily listens. “You can have some sleep on the couch. This is my-“

“Fuck, why can’t you just listen like a normal fucking person?”

“Me? What about you-“

“Me what? All I’ve done today was put up with your fucking attitude. It’s only the first fucking day, y/n, and I have to put up with you for the rest of the-“

“You think I want this? Hey, don’t fucking act like I owe you. You got yourself into this-“

“Yeah, yeah I fucking did. And I fucking hate myself,” Drew says, and he lets go of you. When he lets go, you realize how hard he’s been holding onto you, that bruises might form. He gets off of you, running his hands over his hair. “You want this fucking bed? Have it.”

He leaves, and this fight over the bed ends. “Asshole,” you murmur, massaging your wrists. Hurts like a bitch. But at least you had the bed to yourself now, that was all that mattered. 

You pick your phone up from the floor, turning the flash off and placing it on the bedside table. Fixing the pillow, you lay down on the spot Drew was just in. It smelt like him, his shampoo and scent still lingering in his spot. 

And somehow, it doesn’t bother you as much, because you fall asleep almost instantly. 

——

The only person talking in the car is your PR manager Maple, who’s explaining what’s expected when the two of you are on the yacht. Today’s schedule in Bahrain was another stunt, to show the public how sweet you were with each other ‘privately.’

She praises you for the hard launch yesterday, to which you ignore and just chew on your gum. It was just a stupid bet that you lost, yet the internet is acting crazy. 

“Whatever,” you murmur, eyes glued to the scenery outside. 

“Now, there will be a few staff onboard, but just to serve food and drive the yacht around the area,” Maple continues. “So while they’re in eye sight, don’t send glares to each other. Like right now.”

You furrow your eyebrows, glancing over at Drew. Only to find him already staring at you, his expression blank. But you know he’s thinking about something, the way his blue eyes seemed so fixed on you. “What?” You rudely ask.

“Nothing,” he replies, looking away from you. 

Whatever. The car stops near the docks anyways, meaning you’ve arrived. 

As the both of you open the door to get out, Maple says in the most serious tone, “Cameras are everywhere. Remember that.”

“Of course,” you roll your eyes, getting out of the car. Once the both of you were out of the car, Maple drives away. You first look around, checking for the paparazzi. Sure enough, a few of them hid behind the bushes.

“You there?” Drew’s voice pulls your attention back to him. 

You cover your mouth, pulling Drew down by his arm. “Behind the bushes.”

He looks over to the bushes near the dock, and sees the paparazzi too. He then holds your hand, looking away towards the yacht. “Which one is it?”

His hand is warm just like yesterday; the ring on his finger the only thing that feels cold against your skin. You tighten your grip around his hand, leading him towards the white yacht. One of the staff greets you, giving you a warm welcome once you enter the walkway. 

It was one of the smaller yachts, suitable for a short ride around the area. Drew, politely shakes hand with the main manager of the yacht, exchanging a few words. The manager attempts to shake yours, but you just keep your hand intertwined with Drew’s. You don’t even smile at the man. 

He guides you two to the back of the yacht, where the dining space was. You let go of Drew’s hand, sitting down. He sits across from you as the staff places two menus down. “if you need anything, we’re just inside.”

And while the yacht starts to drive off, you stare at the open sea. You needed to smoke so bad. You haven’t done one in almost a whole day, and it was killing you. This minty gum that Drew offered only lasts a small while. 

Good thing you secretly brought one, with the help of Maple. You asked to ‘borrow’ her vape, even though you both knew you were gonna keep it for yourself. In fact, it was the first thing you said to her when you saw her this morning. Everyone whose worked closely with you knows how anxious you get, and how alcohol and smoking could calm you down, so somehow these days, someone always had something for you.

It was like an unspoken rule now, for there to be cigarettes and alcohol near you. 

The vape was in the hidden pocket of your emerald green sundress, out of sight for others yet you could feel it against your thighs. You look at Drew, who was focused on reading the menu. Could he hurry up?

You force him to hurry up, calling the staff back in. “Give me five of your strongest alcoholic drink,” you say, the line becoming your catchphrase almost. 

Drew looks up at you, his expression mean. You just shrug at him. “One Biryani, falafel, and an American stake, and just a plain water.”

The staff nods and leaves, and you raise an eyebrow at Drew. “What did you just order?” You snicker at the funky food names. 

“Look at the menu yourself,” he replies instead, turning his gaze to the sea. 

Okay. You definitely needed a smoke if you were going to be on a yacht ride with this man. You get up, ready to find a bathroom and do your business, but Drew’s voice stops you. “Where you going?”

“Bathroom,” you coldly reply, wondering why he needed to know. When he doesn’t say anything else, you walk inside the yacht. The staff inside looks at you with sparkled eyes, but you ignore them, following the directions to the bathroom. 

Once inside, you lock the door and take the vape out of your pocket. You put the seat down, but not before spitting the gum in it. You take a smoke out of the vape, the chemical running through your veins, and you taste nicotine with the strong strawberry flavor it was. “The fuck?” You curse, always preferring regular cigarettes with heavy nicotine, instead of these fakes with the preppy flavors. 

Well, this was all you got, so you take a few more puffs of it. You definitely feel much better now. 

You stare at the circles you make when blowing it out, and you decide to try making a circle within a circle. You giggle, almost succeeding in one. You then attempt to adjust the sizes of these circles, with each inhale, it gets more and more interesting. You even take your phone out, searching for fun vaping smokes to recreate. 

But your fun wonderland shuts down when a bang on the door startles you, causing you to drop your vape on the ground. “Shit!” You curse, picking it up and wiping the mouth part. 

“Y/n, you in there?” 

Drew. “Busy!” You yell back, hoping he goes away. 

“You’ve been gone for ten minutes, y/n. What the fuck are you doing?” It's been ten minutes? Feels like a minute since you got here.

You stay silent. 

“Open the door, y/n.”

Ugh, too much nicotine in your brain right now. You shake your head, trying to shake some sense back into yourself. “Um, I’m busy! Go away, Drew.” Of course. Saying you’re busy always works. 

“Open the fucking door, y/n,” he repeats, his voice more deep and threatening this time. 

You quickly put the vape in your pocket, shutting your phone. You unlock the door, and Drew quickly opens it. Your eyes widen at how fast he is, because before you know it, he’s in this small bathroom with you, the door locked behind him now. 

He towers over you, and with this tight space, he holds himself up by pushing his arm against the wall behind you. So, you’re trapped between his arm and the wall. “Where is it?” He questions you immediately. 

“What?” You act dumb; crossing your arms and looking directly into his eyes. 

He smirks, licking his lips. He’s staring down at you, and his cologne hitting your nose just reminds you of how close he is to you. “Gosh, you’re a horrible fucking liar. You sure this is what you do for a living?”

Now he was lying. “What are you talking about? I was taking a shit, and you barge in-“

“It smells like fucking strawberries in here, y/n.”

Fuck. Caught red-handed. But you don’t show it, still looking up at him. “Something’s wrong with your nose,” you calmly say. 

He squints his eyes down at you, clearly not believing a word that comes out of your mouth. “Then we’re staying here until I’m right.”

Who does he fucking think he is? “You can stay here, I’m going out.”

You slightly bend down and escape from his arm, going to unlock the door. But you nudge the lock harder than you’re suppose to, your vape falling out of your pocket. 

Okay, now you’re caught red-handed. 

Drew picks it up, and laughs at it. He laughs cockily, knowing he busted you. He then locks the door again, not caring about people that might want to use the bathroom. You just cross your arms, not wanting to admit you were wrong. Wait, you’re not wrong. Nothing was wrong with you vaping. “What? Is it a crime?” You start, unwilling to get ashamed with Drew’s strong presence in front of you. 

“You finished, the entire vape in ten minutes?”

You furrow your eyebrows, grabbing the vape from him. It was empty, but you didn’t realize you smoked that much. “It, it was halfway done when I got it.”

“‘When you got it'? Who did you get it from, a hobo-“

“I got it from Maple,” you hurry to say. “I know she always have one-“

“That’s not the point-“ Drew shakes his head, as if it could help get rid of some of his anger. “You’re fucking vaping in here. A smoke alarm could have went off. Someone could have seen you.”

“Well, they didn’t, so calm your balls down,” you brush it off, turning to unlock the door. But Drew grabs your wrist, pushing you against the door. Hard. You panic, knowing someone outside definitely heard the bang, plus, now your back hurts. “Are you a fucking lunatic? Get off me-“

He takes the vape out of your hands, releasing you to throw it into the toilet. You watch with your mouth open in shock, as he flushes it down. “What the fuck are you doing?” You yell at him. 

“Stopping you from getting into trouble!” He yells back at you, just slightly quieter. “I can’t have the staff finding out you’re running in here to fucking vape.”

“Yeah, as if you cared that much.”

“Yeah, I do care. Because you’re my fucking girlfriend, to not only them, but the entire fucking world. So of course I care.”

“Please. You think you’re that relevant?” You scoff at him. “Hey, they know you because of me. And don’t fucking act like the saint here, you only care about the contract-“

“I’m trying to keep you out of trouble-“

“What trouble? Bunch of people smoke, drink-“

“You are addicted-“

“Literally no one cares, Drew!”

“Don’t deny it, y/n, everyone fucking cares-“

“Will you fucking shut up? No one gives a single fuck about-“

“Ms y/l/n, Mr Starkey, are you in there?” A voice outside asks. 

Drew covers your mouth, but you fight to push him off of you. “Yeah, out in a sec.”

After a few seconds, you immediately push him away. “What the fuck? Now they think we’re fucking in here!”

“Its better than overhearing this conversation, or catching you with vape,” Drew angrily replies to you, running a hand through his hair. 

“No; this is much worse,” you angrily throw back. “Fine. You won’t let me smoke in peace, I’ll drink in peace. And there will be plenty of witnesses then.”

This time, you unlock the door and get out quick enough that Drew couldn’t stop you, or at least, he doesn’t stop you. You walk out, ignoring the staff giving you curious glances, forcing yourself to act as if nothing happened in there. 

You sit down at the table, which was now filled with food and your drinks. You immediately down the first one, the anger inside of you enough to numb the burn. Who the fuck did Drew think he was, interfering with how you want to treat your body?

You down the second drink just as Drew comes out, sitting across from you. You turn your gaze towards the sea, knowing that your mouth will go off once you make eye contact with him. 

This just might be the worst yacht ride ever.

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word count: 3.1k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: this chapter was basically fighting over a bed and vape. thanks for reading anyways! recently i got a bunch of ideas for drew, and i'm so excited to write them!

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