#i have done everything on the do not do list like it was a grocery list
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
worldsover · 10 hours ago
Text
Detonation Mechanism ft. Isa
20k words
It's cute, fluffy, love-at-first-sight romance with Isa, but it turns out the kitten is naughtier than she appears.
✦✧✦✧✦✧
Tumblr media
She'll be just like the last one. And the one before that. The one before that. The pattern, you've done everything in your power to break it and have yet to do so successfully. You'd rather not meet her at all if it's going to be that way, but the pressure from your mutual friends to get together for a blind date is akin to trying to turn around a tank with grocery bags in hand. You don't know if it's the same for Isa, but she didn't exactly put up a fight to meet, either, and that worries you a little bit. All you knew about Isa was a list of allergies so extensive that it resembled a complex food import document. You were always complaining about eating out at the same five places, so you were at least looking forward to eating at the trendy vegan restaurant she suggested.
Waiting amidst the bustling pedestrian plaza nearby, you double-check for the time and address on your phone and scan the area again. In truth, you want to get this over with. The air is thick with noise—the roar of traffic, people chatting, a street busker playing her guitar under the shade of an awning across from where you wait. The sun glares down mercilessly and your eyes water without warning, the summer heat already leaving you parched. It feels as though the world itself doesn’t want you to find love.
A notification on your screen.
> "you here already?"
> "Yep!"
> "i'm by the sculpture! of the guy! you'll know it's me!"
You do. Or, you hope. Hope that Isa is the red-haired woman waving wildly and looking around.
As you wave back with more restraint, you smile, because how else can you respond to the warmth of the sun—oh, how quickly you change your tune. You smile because that's how you combat freezing up at her prettiness. On first impression, Isa is already the most stunning person you've ever seen. Her eyes become half-moons when she smiles brightly, and you happily melt under her gaze. But then, there are those jeans holding in her thighs, her tight shirt not holding back her smooth midriff. All in all, very cute. You liken her expressions to that of a feisty cat. You haven't stopped smiling; how can you?
The world wants you to find love.
You can't believe it when she hugs you like she's known you for years. Her perfume wafts into your nose, and she smells sweet, too sweet, like you'd probably go into anaphylactic shock if you kissed her—who's the allergic one now?
"Hi!" Isa gives you one last squeeze before releasing you. "Nice to meet you."
You sputter—great start. "Wow, hi. Nice to meet you too."
"I'm Isa." Her grin is like a curly bracket as she looks up at you, not even close to your height. Her lips are pouty, red like her hair, and it doesn't help that she's looking at you as though you were already boyfriend material. "It's a nickname."
You have to hold back from telling her that she's the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life. "Isa," you repeat, almost stupidly, but then get over yourself. "It suits you."
"Yeah? Thank you." Her eyes turn into half-moons again when she smiles and nods, looking as though she'll purr any second now.
"Hold on, let me guess. You look like a… Sumin."
She laughs out loud. "Oh my god."
You gasp. "Did I get it?"
"No, no, that's one of my best friend's names."
"Damn. I thought I figured you out."
"Nope. I'm Lee Chaeyoung. Nice to meet you." She offers her hand.
You shake it and tell her your name in turn. "So, ready to eat?"
Her smile widens. She takes your bicep in hand, again her innate familiarity surprising you. "This way," she says, squeezing your arm.
"I know, I know," you say.
"I'm glad you agreed to come here. I've only been once, but I love this place."
You're inclined to like the place as well—the atmosphere is bright and vibrant, and the energy is positive like everyone's in their element. The restaurant has large windows with shutters drawn up to let in a lot of sunlight and natural airflow. A large indoor tree sits by a seating area next to the windows, providing a nice feeling of nature indoors. The tables and chairs are all a light-colored wood that matches the decor. You'd never walk into this place by accident—this is clearly a hipster vegan joint meant for millennials who think they can live forever if they just eat the right plants—but with Isa by your side, you don't care.
You care. You haven't felt nerves like these for ages. You're blaming your stuttering on how difficult the menu is to read, but if you're being honest, her beauty is throwing you for a loop. You're afraid you'll misspeak or do something weird like accidentally spill some soup on her, or try to kiss her before you learn her name properly, or any number of other things that can go wrong on a first date.
Isa orders for the both of you as if she knows the menu inside and out (you have no reason to suspect she doesn't), and as soon as she starts talking, you hang onto every word. She sounds passionate about this place, which is so cute of her, so of course, you agree with what she chooses.
The dish that appears in front of you, ratatouille and spaghetti, comes as a surprise because you were more focused on Isa than paying attention to what you ordered. You're embarrassed. If you had one great property about you, it would be your ability to snall talk and bullshit; instead, you're all avoidant eyes and quiet eating. You don't want to reveal too much about yourself, how humdrum your work is, or how many hours you spend on YouTube or reading manga every day. But Isa, she's a force of nature that can't be held back by any of your defenses, and you can't remain so closed off for too long, what with her relentless teasing and prodding at all the right times. She has you smiling in minutes.
A woman of many passions, she talks at length about decorating her house, finding new artists to listen to, and recording vlogs for all the countries she's visited. You're on the topic of travel.  "No, I'm serious, there are some nice parks in Canada," you say.
"I could see that. I'm imagining somewhere remote, where the stars are visible and you can stand on top of a hill and breathe in the fresh, cool air." Isa takes in a deep breath as though to demonstrate. "Ooh, have you ever seen the aurora borealis? So pretty."
"Yeah," you say as you keep your eyes on her.
"Wait, you've been?" She's bouncing in her seat now.
You chuckle. "I did, once."
"I'm so jealous."
"It's a long drive, getting far enough from the city lights. Plus, you have to be lucky with the timing. But it's worth it."
"Can we go?" she asks, all sincere.
"Together? To Canada?" you ask.
Isa ducks her head. "Sorry, that's presumptuous, right?"
You pat her forearm. "No, it's okay. I didn't mean to make fun, that would be incredible to do. You really wanna go?"
"Eventually. If the stars align." Isa makes a dramatic face, as if winking but unable to get her other eye to cooperate and stay open.
You burst out laughing, attracting stares.
"What? What?" she asks.
But you keep laughing, and she can't help but join in. In that moment, there's something true and incomparable and fantastical about Isa, and whatever connection the two of you have. Her foot touches yours and neither of you move away. She meets your eyes, drawing you in closer. Every laugh. Every smile. Every quirk of her brow. Her beauty ensnares your attention like a well-laid trap. Beckons you to steal glances, toward her plump lips, her clear skin, the outline of her neck as she drinks from her glass, the graceful slope of her nose, the red hair that frames her face. Her legs, encased in tight denim that stretches beyond infinity, make you linger longer.
"I don't bite," she purrs, leans forward, offers a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. "Unless you want me to."
Your stomach drops. Whatever picture you had of Isa as a wholesome, innocent girl crumbles to pieces, in a good, groin-stirring, mouth-shutting way.
"Hey." Her hand touches your forearm. "I'm sorry if I'm coming on too strong. I'm having too much fun."
You clear your throat. "No, you're fine. More than fine." You squeeze her hand, admiring her delicate fingers and white-manicured nails. "I'm having fun with you too."
"Good! I guess we should, like, actually get to know each other though."
"Yeah," you reply, chuckling nervously. You first share the more basic biographical information: you're a few years older than her, but you agree to drop the formalities as though you were close friends already.
"Oh, by the way," you say, "I'm sorry."
She freezes up. "Sorry for what?"
"About all your allergies, I mean, chicken? Come on. I didn't even know that was a thing."
Isa laughs, and the more you hear her laugh, the more you want to tell jokes over and over just to hear it again. "Well, it's okay. I can just eat everything else. Like this ratatouille. It's really good."
You laugh with her. "Yeah, it is."
From there, it's easy to open up, talk more about yourself when she asks questions, to engage in small talk you wouldn't normally bother with. Just as with her hobbies, she wears many hats in her job, always busy doing something whether it's brand deals or graphic design or one of her million side projects. Somehow, she manages to make your life sound interesting with her unabashed sincerity. The more you ask about her interests, the more your own apathy toward dating seems silly and unfounded, a self-defeating cycle you've made worse by following it.
You're halfway through your meals when suddenly, Isa breaks the rhythm of the conversation with the question: "Why are you single?"
"What?" You snort. "Where did that come from?"
"Well," she begins, setting down her fork, "you're handsome, for one."
You hold back a gasp, not wanting to seem overly affected. "Thank you," you say in earnest, smiling bashfully.
"You're funny, and you're really good at making me feel comfortable with you." Once again, she squeezes your bicep, and more quietly, like admitting a secret, she adds, "And your body is nice. Any girl would be lucky to have you."
You're blushing, if not for her compliments, then for how adorable she looks being so transparent about how she feels. You decide to return the favor. "You're cute. Very cute. And I love your sense of style, especially the red hair, and how much fun we're having talking."
"Really?" Her eyes light up as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.
"Yeah," you say quietly. "I've never met anyone quite like you before."
"And I want to know more about you," she whispers. Isa leans forward and rests her elbows on the table, fingers laced together. "So, explain yourself, why you're single."
"Geez," you say, putting your hands up in defense, laughing again. "Okay, okay. Where to begin? I guess I haven't exactly had the best luck with dating."
She frowns. "Aww, I'm sorry. That's no good."
"I mean, it's tough, right? You have to meet new people and try to get to know them and they might turn out to be terrible dates who dump you in public or ghost you." You laugh, but it's mostly forced. "Or even worse, there are the friends that you dated and then had to stop being friends with because the relationship just didn't work out, and you have no one to hang out with on weekends. And now I sound like a loser."
"Hey, it's not like that." She squeezes your arm. "So you don't bother with dating as much, right? Well, that's understandable, especially after those bad experiences."
You appreciate her empathy; it helps to put your worries into words that feel more grounded, as though your concerns were normal rather than yours alone. "Right, but it doesn't help when people ask why I don't have a girlfriend, as if having a significant other is the only important relationship in your life. As though that's all that matters." You realize you're ranting too much and try to rein yourself in. "Sorry, I didn't mean to lay it on you so thick."
But Isa is already leaning into your arm. "Don't be sorry. It makes me feel better about myself to hear that other people have their own problems they have to deal with." She pauses. "If you're comfortable sharing, what happened before this?"
You straighten up. "Are you sure?"
"Of course."
So you do. Tell her about the failures, the heartbreak, how your ex was still in your friend group after the breakup. You shouldn't. This is the exact sort of first-date taboo that should be avoided at all costs. But she listens. She truly listens, and she understands. It feels good, to be heard by someone so receptive. There's a relief in getting it all off your chest, an intimacy in sharing secrets—and it helps that she's more attractive than any other woman you've met.
You've never taken so long eating such a simple dish.
After finishing up your meal, the mood to something light-hearted, and Isa asks if you want some… She's leaning forward, once more showing off her breasts in her crop top, and you stare in awe. She watches you take in every detail, and slowly, seductively, slightly, parts her mouth open. You blink rapidly and force yourself to meet her gaze.
"I said, you want some vegan ice cream?"
"Sure. We can, um, split it." You swallow.
Like nothing happened, she orders the creamy delight and as you tuck into the shared bowl, she savors each spoonful with slow, tantalizing movements of her tongue. Desire surges in your lower regions, and you attempt to adjust yourself subtly.
Isa flashes a provocative smile. "It's okay to look, you know?"
That ice cream must taste really good for her, how deliciously she's sucking on it. Your mind wanders. How might her lips taste, feel, upon yours, upon your neck, upon your chest, down? Shuddering at the thought, you clumsily shove a large scoop of the frozen treat into your mouth, only to regret it as your brain tries to make sense of the contrasting temperature.
When your face contorts from the chill, Isa laughs, and then she seems to catch herself; her eyes go wide. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I swear, I don't act this way with people I just met. But, it, you know, feels natural with you for some reason. Maybe you bring out the animal in me. Or, err…"
You clear your throat. "No, it's okay. It's hot. Actually, no, it's not okay, don't bring animals into this restaurant."
Isa laughs—another success, another tug at your heart. Her legs graze yours under the table until every nerve ending is on fire; you and Isa end up having a side competition under the table, both of you taking turns touching the other, to see who can make the other react first.
Isa wins.
Her cheeks flush red and you can't stop glancing at her parted lips.
Music. You were talking about… "You said you like R&B, right?" you ask. "You have a really nice voice for it. Ever consider singing?"
"Actually, I've thought about it," she says, straightening up in her chair. "I even took some lessons in high school. They said I could've been big, you know?"
Picturing Isa on stage is easy; she'd have a million followers. "That's really cool," you say. "Maybe you could sing me a song sometime."
"Maybe. But I might need to be in a more comfortable setting. Like, maybe my home or yours." She winks and your stomach drops again. She is toying with you and it's working, maybe too well. The anticipation of her flirty touches has you wanting more and more, the sexual tension building each time her foot or her hand brushes against yours. It feels like she's already undressing you with her eyes.
"That sounds good," you say.
"Yeah," Isa says, "we could do karaoke, drink a bit if you're down for that."
"You have any more talents or is a million hobbies not enough for you?"
"I also learned dance too. I still do that actually, I'm in a club."
You scoff. "Seriously, what are you doing here instead of performing? You could literally be the top idol, right now."
Isa shrugs. "That's just life. Sometimes, we don't get what we want. But then better things come along. And you get to eat ice cream with them." She laughs again, so carefree and happy—and so sexy that it's hard not to feel confident around her. "You're a pretty good thing, if I do say so myself."
You contemplate Isa's sudden musing. "I'd be your biggest fan, trust me."
"But, you know," Isa says, "I could teach you a thing or two about dancing too."
You imagine Isa dancing with you, her body pressing against yours. It's a delightful thought. Unfortunately: "I'm pretty much a fish out of water when it comes to anything involving coordination. Mmm, maybe one day. I can try and surprise you."
"It's okay. Everyone's gotta start somewhere. Or, you can watch me." Her lips curl up. "I like showing off sometimes." Eating her last bite of ice cream, a large dollop falls onto the bare skin between her neck and clavicle, its white and creamy and sticky nature reminding you of how it'd be to leave a warmer mark there. A streak of desire runs through your body, and you almost feel bad at the sudden urge to lick it off her skin. Instead, Isa whimpers at the cold sensation while her fingers scoop up the excess and pop into her mouth, sucking each digit clean.
"I see that," you reply, voice strained, and look away.
How Isa is able to move on from that so easily, you don't know. Your shirt feels too tight on your shoulders, and you shift in your seat to adjust your trousers.
You call the server over for the check—just in time to save you from your horniness—and Isa thanks you with a peck on your cheek that has you almost melting into her arms. The moment your card is swiped and the receipt signed, she takes your hand in hers as though she never wants to let go.
There's a crowd of people outside, bunches of people coming in and out of restaurants and stores, a group of college students dancing to some choreography, but you feel like you and Isa are in your own bubble.
"Thank you for tonight," she whispers in your ear, as the streets are getting loud with all the people. She's warm, and her breath is warm, and her smile is warm, and every moment makes you feel warm. Isa looks at you like she's feeling the same way, clinging to your arm and to your every word and to the promises of more dates.
You continue to sneak glances, ensure you're not dreaming. The setting sun peeks out behind the skyscrapers, shining light onto her bright skin—she may be an angel in her radiance; you’ve never told anyone that on the first date because a pickup line like that would be too cheesy, but you have to tell her anyway. (“Seriously? Fell from what? Ugh!” She rolls her eyes but with a huge smile on her face. Nothing could be more precious.) You didn't realize otherworldly beauty even existed outside of the internet or the cinema, but somehow, it just ended up on your lap for the price of a vegan entrée and some wine.
As you walk through a nearby urban park, Isa squeezes your hand. "I'm kinda surprised."
"About?" You tilt your head.
"How well this is going. I didn't think blind dates were supposed to go this well."
"So this is your first one?" You nudge her with a playful shoulder. "Lucky. So, you wanna do anything else?"
"Do you?"
You scan the shops, assessing your options. There's a stationery store, a convenience mart, and a plethora of designer boutiques far exceeding your pay grade. "Whatever you feel like." Well, hopefully not the latter.
"Let's go there." Isa points to the stationary shop and drags you there.
You browse the aisles, letting go of her hand to flip through the pages of a journal. Isa decides to get herself some notebooks—one covered in red roses and a kitten in shades of pink. You scan the shelves and notice a book on calligraphy and pull it out. After shuffling some items around, you find some pencil grips and grab them for yourself, then find Isa in the pen and pencils section.
"Cute." Though looking at the things she's holding, you're not talking about them.
"Oh, thanks." She shifts the books in her arms and pokes you on the side. "There are some markers and pencils with kittens on them, maybe you can give it as a gift to a friend."
"You can just say you want them. It seems you've got a whole theme going on there. You don't even have a cat," you tease.
She sighs loudly. "No, don't remind me. I wish I could have one so bad."
"I'm more of a dog person," you say, "but kittens aren't half bad."
"Hmph. Kittens are so cute though." Her pout is even more adorable. "Kittens are small, furry, warm."
"And lazy. Mean. Cranky," you counter.
Isa swats your arm. "Noo, they aren't."
With the kitten pencils and markers now secured in your shopping bag, you exit the stationary store and head to the convenience store nearby. After a few minutes of browsing and chatting, you leave with two bags of snacks and drinks. You offer to help carry her bags home, and the two of you are on a bus.
Isa leans her head on your shoulder as she places a hand on your thigh. "Thanks again for tonight."
"Any time," you say, grabbing her hand. "So, uh, are you free next week?"
She shakes her head, looking apologetic. "No, I'm leaving on a camping trip with some friends."
"Ah, that sounds like fun." Your heart sinks. "Well, how about when you get back?"
"Of course! I'll text you as soon as I'm home."
"Okay, great." You don't know what else to say because all you're thinking about is how much you'll miss her. And the ride seems too short for your liking. The two of you are still holding hands, and it feels as if your hands are made for each other: her fingers are warm and delicate as they intertwine with yours, her touch gentle and tender, and everything you never knew you wanted.
"My stop's coming up," Isa says reluctantly.
"I'll walk you home." You pat the bags in your other hand. "These snacks will be useful later."
"Yeah? Okay."
Isa leads the way to her apartment. Her neighborhood is cozy; the streets are lined with small houses, bakeries and cafes, and a playground.
When you reach the entrance of the building, you hand Isa her bags of stuff, not wanting to let go of her hand.
"Thanks for going out with me today," you say. "I hope we can do this again soon."
Isa doesn't let go of your hand either. "I hope so too."
The moment stretches on, neither of you wanting to be the first to leave, but your heart won't stop beating out of your chest. You finally let go of her hand to place them in your pockets, looking elsewhere, anywhere but her eyes. Her red lips call to you.
Isa looks around—there's no one outside at this hour, the sky darkening and stars beginning to dot the sky. She bites her lip—god, how you'd love to bite down on her plump lips, kiss those curves on her face and body until she was left squirming and moaning on her bed. She takes your face in her hands, stands on tiptoes, leans in close to you, and kisses your cheek. Your heart stops. You turn to look at her, stunned by how forward she was, by how good that felt, and oh—now, her lips are on yours. Your head is spinning: her mouth tastes like honey and mint and every flower in the world; she's pulling you down and closer to her while her other hand wraps around your waist; she's whimpering as you pull her body flush against yours by her hip and ass, kissing her back fiercely, deeper and deeper—
You're left wanting more as she pulls away, swaying from side to side. Her hand reaches to stroke your face. You're dazed and speechless.
Isa giggles. "We should do this again. I really enjoyed myself. I hope you did too."
"Yeah," you say, your voice cracking slightly. "I definitely did."
"Okay. Bye bye!" She waves with a warm smile and then runs into the building before you can say anything else.
You've only just met her, but somehow the world is darker again, like you're reminded that it's nighttime.
A text.
> "you could've kissed me sooner :p"
✦✧✦✧✦✧
The weekend zooms by, and the week lurches forward like a train coming out of the station, slow and dragging until it gradually builds up momentum as the minutes fly by. You wonder where Isa is right now as you sit at your desk at work. You wonder if she's thinking about you the way you're thinking about her. Your coworkers pry about what's making you smile, and you can only be honest—that there's a woman who's made you feel alive for the first time in a long time. Meanwhile, you're forced to endure smug, self-congratulatory remarks from Sullyoon about getting you and Isa together. But you don't mind the jests and good-natured ribbing if it means you get to daydream about Isa for hours on end.
Only when you get home after a long day of work that you realize how far along she's gotten under your skin because you haven't been this distracted in years. She's a very well-formed fantasy: you picture making dinner for her, so you're learning vegan recipes, and cutting out everything from soy to eggs—it's no sacrifice when it's all for her. But your imagination ends up taking other shapes too, her sex appeal oozing out of every pore and action between the cuteness. You'd take her apart with your tongue—and fingers, too—before putting her back together again with your dick. When it feels as though you've lost your focus forever, your mind has never been clearer. Every night, you're thinking of Isa before you fall asleep, dreaming of her in bed with you—holding her tight until the sun peeks through the curtains—
> "hi, hi, i'm back. you free right now?"
You answer the text immediately, despite it coming after midnight.
> "heyy, i'm free"
> "cool! i'm at home right now, wanna come over?"
> "sure, omw"
> "great! see you soon!"
Riding the subway, the hum of electricity and chatter fills your ears, and you wish this were a bullet train instead. When you knock, your hands are clammy and your stomach is twisting itself into knots.
The door swings open. There she is. Your eyes drink her in, radiant Isa clad in snug black yoga pants and a loose tank top, crimson hair falling down her shoulders like lava from a volcano. There's your fantasy, your plaguing distraction, your obsession. Whatever you were feeling hasn't gone anyway: everything that was there was real, made more concrete at the sight of her.
You don't really know her, but it feels as though you've missed her so much already.
Isa doesn't say anything. Simply steps closer, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes full of want, and wraps her arms around your shoulders. Your hands roam over her ass and cup it gently while her mouth presses into you. You both sigh into the kiss, and she tugs on your lower lip, sucking and nipping on it. The door clicks shut behind you.
"Hey," you breathe out after finally breaking the kiss. "That was—"
Isa's tongue flicks your lips. "Is it okay if we keep doing that?" Her voice is like silk on your ears. "Please?"
Because the silk forms a web made to ensnare you, you oblige, pulling her close again to recapture her mouth. She's intoxicating, her taste—like strawberries dipped in dark chocolate—her body—soft skin and sweet perfume—and most of all, her sighs—the cutest little creature in need as your tongues glide over each other. Then you move down to give her neck a peck, and she arches up against you.
"I missed you," Isa sighs out.
You groan softly at that. You're in her home, cozy, warm, and familiar, with the soft light of a candle casting gentle shadows on the walls and scenting the air with a floral aroma.
"I literally texted you the moment I got home," she adds. "Sorry if I had to make you rush here."
"Don't worry about it," you reply, placing a kiss on her collarbone. "I couldn't wait to see you."
"Really?" She beams.
"Of course."
She lets go of your shoulders and leads you to the couch. "I'm sure you wanted to plan a real date, and I want that too, but... I really wanted to kiss you again."
"Well, I can't say no to that," you say.
"We'll have plenty of time for dates later. Let's just watch something on TV," she says, eyes crinkled, and you decide that you are honestly fine with whatever Isa wants.
The two of you curl up on one side of the couch, your arm wrapped around her shoulders and hers around your waist, and she turns on some show about a guy who owns a farm or something. Naturally, your distraction returns, made tangible and real as she sits by your side. You can't stop thinking about what's underneath her clothes, what she'll look like after you make her come over and over again.
Isa glances at you, then back at the TV, then back to you. "What?" she asks.
"Just looking at you," you confess as you cup her cheek. "You're so beautiful that I can’t stop."
"You, you're so, ugh, I can't..."
"But I mean it, sincerely." You point at the cat notebook on the table. "You're like that cute kitten, curled up in me."
She scoffs, pushing the notebook aside and swatting your shoulder. "Yah, you're so cheesy." But there's still a smile on her face, so you'll take that as a victory.
As the two of you watch the show, or at least attempt to, neither of you is truly there in spirit. Isa is playing with your fingers, eyeing you like she wants to devour you; your hands stroke her shoulder as if to silently communicate your desire for something more than talking or watching TV; your faces are angled toward each other rather than the television. Your touch ventures lower, toward her sides, then her thighs, and you massage them through the fabric of her pants.
"Your hands. So warm," she says as she takes one of your hands into her own and kisses the center of your palm. "So firm, and strong. It's nice." 
There are photos on the walls of Isa with whom you assume are family and friends, as well as some art from artists you don't recognize. As you suspected, there are plenty of cat-related objects scattered about, an entire corner of the bookshelf filled with picture books, figurines of cats and dogs and other cute animals on every shelf. In addition to that notebook you bought her, you also spot the pencils on a table next to her laptop. There's a mug next to that one, with a cat printed on its side.
Isa nuzzles into your neck, staring at you. There's something about her demeanor that makes her seem more shy and unsure of herself than before. Her fingers play with the hem of your shirt, trying to sneak their way underneath while she strokes your cheek with the other hand.
It's not just her home. She is a cat.
Isa is a cat in how she purrs when you scratch behind her ears just right. In how she arches against your body with every brush of your fingertips against her neck. In how she paws at your shoulders, begging for more and more attention, leaning in for gentle, affectionate kisses to her nose. In how she rubs herself against you like she knows what it does to you. In how she mewls when your palms come down to caress her lower back, then squeezes her ass. Isa, in your arms, is the sort of pet that makes you want to spoil her all the time. You're not sure what you did in a past life to deserve a creature so magnificent and adorable and sexy and sweet and lovable.
You call her as she is. "Kitten." It comes out your mouth like a reflex, like a message to yourself more than anything.
A small gasp escapes her lips, and she looks up at you with wide eyes.
Your thumb brushes along her jawline. "It really suits you."
"Again," she pleads.
You whisper "Kitten" again, this time deeper.
Isa shivers and exhales weakly, her hand reaching for yours in a desperate grip. "One more."
"Kitten." You chuckle to yourself, in disbelief, in awe; how could a woman be… "So cute. Kitten. Kitten." Your lips follow your thumb on her jaw. "You like when I say that?"
"Oh, oh, fuck. Yeah. How... how do you know just what to say to me? How to touch me? No one's ever treated me like this before. I've been thinking about you. Especially when I was out in the woods. I was with my friends and it was fun, but..." She pauses, trying to find the right words.
You squeeze her waist. "It's okay, I'm listening."
Isa nods, biting her lip. "I just felt like I needed to see you again. Like something was missing. And when I got home, I just wanted to meet you again. I know it sounds stupid, we just met."
"No, it's not stupid," you say. "I feel the same way. I swear. More, to be honest."
"Okay, good—hngh." Isa gasps as your lips find their way to her neck, and the taste of her soft skin leaves you hungry for more. "Oh, fuh... you see? You make me feel so, so good, oh my god. I wasn't sure if it was just the mood of that date, but no, it's you, it's definitely you."
Her hand sneaks back under your shirt and caresses your bare torso. But then she stops herself, pushing you back.
"You okay?" you ask and then wait patiently for her to calm down.
"This isn't like me," she says. "Or at least, it hasn't been in a long time, or maybe ever. I don't know why I'm acting like this with you, someone I just met."
As she moves her hands restlessly, you reach for them and hold them tightly in yours. "I understand. And I don't mind at all," you say.
Isa looks down at her lap. "It's just… I feel like I can trust you completely. Even though we just met, it feels like we've known each other forever."
"I'll admit, I'm also a little confused," you confess.
"Yeah," she whispers.
"But… I'm all in. I don't care."
A silent peace of acceptance falls between the two of you.
Isa breaks the silence with a shattering statement even if so quiet as to let the world's hum speak over her. "This, this is going to lead to us having sex, right?" Quieter: "I want this. Do you?"
You do. You want it. You want it more than you want any other woman in this city, hell, maybe in the world. You want to know what it feels like to hold Isa tight while you slide into her, what her cries sound like when you fill her, what it would be like to hold her in your arms after fucking her. You want this gorgeous face right next to yours, her hair tickling your face while you're trying to sleep, waking up to a sweet smile. morning kisses. You want her on top of you, taking your cock, her perfect breasts bouncing as she rides you; to be under her with your mouth between her thighs. You want her body against yours, for you to make her dinner, to go shopping with, to sleep next to on the sofa every night.
If there were one last thing you wanted in your life, then it's Isa. You can only nod, dumbfoundedly.
She smiles, then giggles, and you can't help but join in on her giddiness. "Good. Okay. Yeah. Obviously." Isa turns to look you in the eyes. "I've been doing some thinking. And, um, I want to do this, but, I have one rule."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"When you cum, I want you to cum inside me."
Your mouth falls open.
She stammers, her face turning an even deeper shade of crimson, "I'm on the pill, and I don't like condoms, and I just... I've always wanted to feel a guy cum inside of me. And you're so fucking hot and sexy, and I just want it so bad."
Your heart pounds faster and faster, the same way Isa speaks faster and faster.
"I want you to fuck me. Like an animal. And I want you to breed me. I want you to fill me up with your seed while you call me kitten and good girl and..." After she trails off, she buries her face in her hands. "I can't believe I just said all that."
Cup her cheek and stroke it with your thumb. "It's okay." You nod, and you nod harder as if your acceptance is growing immediately. "Yeah, I can do that for you. You've been thinking a lot about this, haven't you?"
"That's an understatement," she admits. "It's crazy. I shared a tent with three friends, and while they were sleeping, I was touching myself. Rubbing my thighs, my hand down my pants. Thinking about you. You're so... I don't know." She shakes her head, unable to find the words to capture the intensity. "And I've been just going crazy trying to figure out why."
"You figure it out?" she asks.
"Yeah, kinda," she says "I guess it's nothing so complicated, and it's nothing I haven't already said... it's how you look at me, how you talk to me like there's nothing else that matters, how you make me feel safe and wanted. And yeah, all that on top of you being really handsome too. It feels nice."
You choke back your response. It feels like you should have something more meaningful to say in response to all of this, but no matter how hard you try, only banalities come to mind.
"I probably need help or something—"
You put your fingers over her mouth. "Stop. Listen, please." You lift her chin to meet her gaze again. "I love how open you are about all this. I don't know if I could even be this honest with myself. Not without you."
Isa exhales in relief, while her body relaxes against yours. "Thank you. I was so worried you’d think I was a freak or something."
"No way. I think it's incredibly sexy." And now that you're talking honesty. "I think I get what happened. It happened to me too."
"What's that?"
"Love at first sight."
Isa blinks, then bursts into laughter and hits your shoulder. "You're such a dork!" She shakes her head but continues to laugh heartily, eyes crinkled and flashing beautifully.
"But doesn't that describe this?"
Isa smirks and leans her head on your shoulder. "Maybe." She pokes your chest with a finger. "Honestly? Yeah. It does. I felt that, too. God, it's so stupid, right?" She laughs again, this time pressing her face into your chest. "We're seriously screwed, huh?"
"Yeah," you say gently. "We are."
Isa grabs your shirt and tilts her head upwards so that she can look at you again. "Like, who even does this?"
She leans towards you, closes her eyes, and kisses you with a gentle passion and small noises.
You run a hand down her back as the other cradles the back of her head. She groans softly into your lips, then parts them with her tongue as she sits up straighter.
"You and me," you say. "This is the kind of shit that happens when you meet your soulmate."
Her eyes fly open, and you chuckle. "Shut up! Stop!"
"If we're gonna be screwed, let's be screwed together."
"What even are you saying right now? You're so... mmm!" Isa lets out a strangled cry as your lips travel downward, planting light kisses on her jawline, her neck, and the crease between her neck and shoulder, before clamping onto the sweet flesh of her shoulder and sucking.
"I'll take care of you, I promise." Your kisses pause a moment, which earns a whimper from Isa as you look up at her.
Once more the silence falls over the two of you like a thick veil. This moment feels like forever, but in the whole history of forever, it has only just begun, too fast for you to comprehend.
"Please tell me to stop, or slow down if you need to," you say. "Whenever you feel uncomfortable, or don't like something I do, just tell me, okay?"
Isa nods. "Of course. Just…"
You don't remember when the two of you started slouching on the couch, or when you put your hand down your pants, or when she started rubbing her palm over her crotch. Your cock has been stiff this whole time, or that a wet spot has formed on her yoga pants. Her juices stain the fabric enough that you can see the outline of her pussy. You and Isa's hands move in unison, eye contact steadfast.
"So you like when I call you Kitten?" you ask.
She whines as she continues to rub her cunt. "Mhm!"
"I'll make sure to do it a lot. Call you good girl too."
"Ohmygod, fuck." Her other hand clutches her chest, pinching the nipple hardening through her tank top.
By now, you're so hard it's painful like it needs to escape or you'll die in the prison of your pants. "You're such a good girl. I love seeing you like this, kitten."
Her whimpers increase in pitch; the shape of her pussy is more pronounced; her pants are soaked to the touch. She's so wet you can smell it, the scent only furthering your lust. "I need it." Isa shuffles into your lap, ready to straddle and kiss you.
You pull back and grab her by the shoulders, turning her around to face the TV like you're a mere extension of the couch.
Isa whimpers. "What?"
Already, you find yourself slipping into your role, guided by your instincts. "You can be patient, can't you? You've been gone for a whole week. What's another ten minutes or however long is left in this show? Trust me."
"Fine." Isa pouts and crosses her arms and leans back against your chest. "I'll wait."
The two of you resume watching the show, and you have certainly missed what was going on because now they're in space or something. Isa wiggles her ass, and you squeeze her hips to still her movements. You're not sure who's being teased more here: your erection might break through your pants, and Isa seems to be on the brink of something with her sighs, with her thighs pressing together.
You whisper her new pet name Kitten in her ear; in response, she mouths out all sorts of names, Daddy, Sir, Owner, or Master. Each one sounds lovely falling off her tongue. With your chin on her shoulder, you intersperse lazy pecks on her cheek or neck.
As the current show about animal husbandry or astronomy or the world ending or whatever comes to a close, Isa leans back, and her earlobe grazes your lips. When you give a gentle nip, she sucks in her breath, and her hand goes to her mouth to contain a tiny yelp.
"Not too loud," you say, gentle but stern.
"Please, please"—her voice cracking—"I can't wait."
"You've done so well." You kiss her jaw. "What a good girl. What do you want?"
"I want to taste you. Please?"
"Yeah? Alright, you've been patient enough. You can have your treat, kitten."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you." Isa clambers off your lap, and then kneels between your legs, grabs your waistband; your cock springs up in front of her face. Her eyes go wide enough that the whites of her eyes are visible around her irises, and her mouth hangs open. Her fingers curl around you. "You're bigger than I imagined."
You must have an insufferable smirk on your face because she's already frowning and playfully swatting you. But just as quickly, lust washes over her features, her eyes narrowing. Isa's gaze is rapt as she strokes you with a feather-light touch, exploring your length with her palms, savoring the skin stretched over hardened steel. "What did you imagine?" you ask.
"About how you'd feel in my hand, in my mouth... in my pussy." She strokes you slowly, almost like petting a small animal.
"Did you think about me filling you up when you were on your camping trip?" You caress her cheek with your hand and run your thumb along her plump lower lip. "Did you picture me breeding you while you rubbed your clit?"
"Yeah. And I imagined you'd be big too. But this..." Isa becomes motionless, and she doesn't break eye contact with your dick.
"Enjoying the view?"
She nods.
"Show me how much then."
Isa closes her eyes and rubs her cheek against your length. She licks your cockhead, swirls over the crown, and dips into the slit. A kiss at the base of your cock, then another halfway down, and another at the very tip, all in that order and the reverse order and every other possible combination—she plants them all in the span of a few dizzying moments. With half-closed eyes somehow still focused on the task at hand, Isa mouths in the general region of your cock without actually sucking it. Not enough. Nowhere close to where you need to be. Just like the first date, Isa is so deeply aware of the effect she has on you, and yet playing at oblivious innocence and naivety. She's a cat playing with its food, but that makes sense because she is a cat.
You take a fistful of her hair, tug firmly, and let out a soft growl.
With a dribble of spit and precum on her chin, her gaze turns up, eyes wide with wonder. "S-sorry. I wanted to kiss it because it's so pretty."
"And I thought I was being a tease. Come on." You grab her by the chin and press your thumb into her bottom lip. "I thought you wanted to taste me."
"Yeah! Of course, I do." Isa nods. She wipes her chin with her arm, and with your other hand, you point your cock at her face.
"Open wide."
Her tongue lolls out. "Aahhh."
Rub the head of your dick along her lips, and Isa captures it with her mouth to suck. She hums contentedly, slurps on the crown while stroking with her palm. She drags her pursed lips down your shaft like she's worshiping vegan ice cream on a spoon. Isa bobs back and forth, careful at first but quickly gaining momentum and depth. Never once does she break eye contact, so eager to please you, to do good for her new owner. She's the perfect kitten.
You pet your kitten. "That's a good girl."
Simple words, simple touches, but they make Isa whimper into your cock. Her fingers work frantically beneath her waistband while she services you. The sound of her pussy's wetness is almost as loud as the sloppy noises of her blowjob.
"Thih, cock, sgooh," she mumbles on your dick. She spits you out, a long string of saliva trailing from her tongue to your dick, and then she smiles up at you like the happy little cat she is. "So good. I shouldn't have waited this long. I wish I'd done this on our first date."
You groan. "You would've done that? On our first date?"
"Mhmm!" Her tongue pokes out between her lips. "You didn't notice me teasing you the whole time? I swear I was being really obvious. And I was so turned on because of you."
"Yeah? Well, you made me feel like I could barely breathe around you, I was so fucking hot for you." 
"I know it makes me a slut—"
"No, it doesn't. If it's because of me... you know... soulmates..."
"Yeah, I get what you mean. Even if you're being silly." She smirks. "You don't have a problem with a slutty kitten though, do you?"
"Of course not."
Isa lets out a satisfied sigh and begins pumping your cock again. "Good. Because I would've gone under the table and blown you then and there if you asked."
"You're wild."
"You make me wild," she counters. She plants kisses along your shaft as she fondles your balls, her other hand still busy in her pants. "Or even when we walked through that alleyway. Do you remember? You were following me to my apartment and I swear I could feel your eyes on my ass."
You chuckle. "You weren't wrong. It's such a nice ass."
"Thank you!" In between words, she licks your sack with broad tongue swathes. "But when we got to the alley, I wanted you to bend me over and fuck me from behind. Or push me against the wall and fuck me. Or just shove me to my knees and fuck my mouth until you filled my belly with cum."
You grab her hair again and pull her away. "Hah. It'll be my pleasure to keep you well fed. But, as hot as that sounds, I think we should save that for another day."
As much as you want to continue this conversation, and as much as you want to hear Isa tell you all of her filthy little fantasies while she strokes you and pleases you and praises you, there's something more that's been occupying your mind: the pussy that's been drenching her clothes and making her moan into your cock with every stroke of her fingers.
"You said you had a rule for me. What was it again?" you ask.
Isa takes her hand out of her pants, leaving behind a damp stain on her pants, and licks them clean, like cleaning a mess of vegan ice cream—the image stuck with you quite profoundly—two fingers in her mouth, in and out, in and out, over and over until she finally pulls them out with a wet pop. "Oh yeah, that. I was having such a good time I forgot. But I… I just need it inside me so bad. I've been craving it forever. I can't believe how horny I am."
"That's not all you said though. You wanted me to do something for you, right?"
"Yeah. Right. I want to..." She falters as if the words have become foreign to her at this moment. Isa opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again, and closes it again before finally spitting them out: "I want to feel you cum inside me."
"That's it." You grab her hand. "I'm not just going to cum inside you though. I'm going to breed you. I'm going to make sure your womb is nice and full of my cum. How does that sound?"
"Yeah." Isa nods, nods harder, and ramps up until you see her happier than she's ever been before; she practically melts into your arms as she gets up and plants a kiss on your lips. "Bedroom?"
"Bedroom."
It is much like you imagined: like the rest of her house, thoroughly decorated, a safe space with all sorts of cute trinkets and animal memorabilia, a plush rug on the floor, and a huge bed covered with a soft blanket, all in soft pastels. But a home is not a home without its pet: Isa lays down on her back and rubs her legs together, your dick still at attention for her.
You unbutton your shirt; she likewise divests herself of her clothing—her tank top rises to expose a bit of her flat stomach, she twists when taking off her bra, her breasts fall free, and she peels off her pants with such a slow deliberation that you can't tell if it's for show or if she's simply so aroused that it's painful to move. Her body is slim in the right places but with plenty to squeeze, her thighs and tits soft like marshmallows.
"Daddy," she purrs in response, patting the sheets.
"My turn to taste you."
You climb onto the bed and kneel between Isa's legs. You trace the contours of her thighs, loving how her nipples stiffen at your touch, how she squirms when your hands come too close to her dripping slit. Your fingers graze against the slick skin of her inner thigh, then brush lightly over her outer lips and clit and inner folds, then find their way back to your own lips, where you can't resist licking them clean, tasting your kitten—bitter yet sweet, salty yet fragrant—and Isa writhes in wanton display before you.
"Please. I want you inside me." Isa whines like a kitten in distress, and you plan on taking care of her distress now and always.
You lift her by the hips and shimmy under her body so that she straddles your face. "This first."
Once you steady Isa above you, your tongue flicks against the swollen bud of nerve endings; Isa cries out your name at the first touch. Then, you're licking away, lapping at her wetness that trickles down your throat. Her pussy lips are plump like the ones on her mouth; her clit is just as red as her lips as you pull the hood back with a finger and flick your tongue faster. Her body is still, frozen in rapture. Grab her ass. Push her closer. As you nuzzle into her folds, she leans forward, pressing her face to your hip, while hands grip your thighs and nails dig into your skin.
"Fuck! Daddy! So good," she squeals. "Ahh! Right there. Ohmygod, you're amazing at this. I can't even think... oh fuck!" Isa squeezes tighter around your head, which can't bother you one bit. You feel her warm and heavy weight on you, her body taut above you, and her breaths on your crotch are equally hot as the air around you. You can hear her muffled voice, though it's impossible to tell what she's saying from how much she's slurring her words and drooling onto your legs.
So you stop, wipe her juices from your face, and say, "What was that?"
"C-can I taste you too?" She looks back at you with wide, innocent eyes. "While you eat me out, can I suck your cock? Please? It looks so yummy."
"Hmm." You pretend to consider her offer for a moment and stroke the small of her back with your hands. "Well, since you asked so nicely."
Isa kisses your leg, lapping up the mess she made, before pecking her way toward your cock. Just when you take another lick, her lips wrap around your shaft.
"Fuck," you curse when Isa starts bobbing her head on your cock again. You push your middle finger into her entrance to feel her walls squeeze around it and then press your mouth against her clit with renewed vigor. You start to hear and feel the gags she's making as she chokes on your cock—you wonder how far she'll go if she can take it down her throat.
Nothing distracts you from your delicious treat—you run the flat of your tongue across Isa's outer folds before switching to short licks inside of her, all while savoring the juices that dribble down your face. Her pussy tastes wonderful, a musty sweetness that is as addictive as a drug and just as hard to ignore. The moans that rumble in her throat and echo around your shaft—she is everything. You want to eat Isa's pussy every day, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. (Does this count as vegan?) As your fingers work feverishly in tandem with your tongue, your hips thrust reflexively into her mouth. She pushes down as if she's trying to impale herself on your dick—until finally, finally, the tip hits the back of her throat. You've never been with a woman who took you so deep so quickly. Here she is managing it without an issue. She was made for this. Your kitten.
Isa pulls back and cries out: "Oh fuck, Daddy, please!" And it's not just that she's gasping for air because of your length: her body goes rigid while her legs squeeze you tight. With a shuddering cry, her juices gush out onto your face while you continue licking and drinking, all the way through the tail end of her climax.
When the trembling dies down, she collapses, body limp atop yours. While aftershocks rock her, two of your fingers slip into her entrance to tease out every bit of her pleasure, curling to find and push that spot deep inside. A third finger eases in, her pussy tender and pliable with arousal, and you can tell that Isa can barely move from how overstimulated she is; yet, when you pull your digits out, Isa whimpers at the emptiness. She nuzzles against your hip, eyes shut tight, and a grin like she's in a dream.
"That's it, kitten," you say. "That's what you deserve."
Isa lets out a cute, pleased noise. "I've never... not like that... I've never felt like that before." Biting her lip, she gazes at your still-erect member, close enough for her warm breath to tickle it. "D-Did you cum? I didn't feel you in my mouth."
"Not yet, kitten. Don't worry." You pat your cockhead against her cheek and nose. "You did such a good job. But I still want to fill you up like I promised."
"Good." She rolls off of you, then curls up on her side and bats her lashes at you. "I'm, um, I'm really, really sensitive now... But, also, I also need your dick inside me. Please."
"Okay, kitten." You sit up on the bed and whisper in her ear, "But only because you said please so nicely."
Isa's legs wrap around you like she's done this a hundred times before. Her eyes are so tender and sweet; it's almost enough to make you want to give up and hold her to your chest forever and forget about sex and cuddles. Almost.
You lay her down in the middle of the bed, a princess, a beloved pet, an object of your desire and adoration. She spreads herself for you, displaying her raw pussy lips and erect clit—she must be desperate for your cock to still be this swollen and needy after such a thorough orgasm. Like a test, you slap your shaft against Isa's pussy, earning a gasp as her body jerks upward in response. "I'm going to breed you, just like you asked."
"Yes," she says, with the widest, most joyful smile on her face while crossing her heels behind your back. "Fill me up with your cock, Daddy. I'm waiting."
"It'll hurt a little though." You thrust slowly along her cunt—her wetness coats the head of your cock as it pushes inside the tiny gap between her clit and the rest of her pussy—snug, snug, too snug for entry without some force.
"I don't care—ah!" She winces when you pull back and rub circles with the tip of your cock. "I've waited so long. And I know I'm safe with you."
You test the waters, dipping your cockhead once again, then a few dozen more times. Despite her discomfort, or because of it, she's trying to push back against you with every movement. She's so sensitive it looks painful—you're barely touching her with your cock and already she's squirming and whimpering.
"Give. Give it. Give it to me," she pleads.
One deep breath, two deep breaths, and then you capitulate, push inside—the hardest thing in the world meets and splits open the easiest/softest. A perfect match. The walls of her cunt stretch around your thickness, clinging on like they're never going to let go. Though you sink deeper and deeper with ease, the friction makes her squeal. Her back arches off the bed, she claws at the sheets, and her mouth falls open with a gasp that becomes a mewl that becomes a squeal that becomes a litany of garbled noises. It's a slow process, taking your time to ensure she can feel every vein, every contour of your cock. When your length carves out space in her pussy and hits that sweet spot inside her, she lets out a sigh and a whimper—she feels fuller than she has in her entire life.
"You good?" you ask.
She nods rapidly and flaps her arms at you; when you're within reach, she yanks you down for a sloppy kiss that mostly consists of sucking on your bottom lip while her tongue explores.
"You're such a good kitten," you whisper between kisses. "So good at taking my cock."
She mewls into your mouth and bucks her hips upwards. "But it's not enough. Need more."
You give a few shallow thrusts of your dick, your forehead against hers as you examine her reaction. "More? Is this better?"
"More." Whatever discomfort or pain is left on Isa's face melts away. She grinds as though to get closer, though she already has your whole length inside her. "Please."
You slam the length of your cock into Isa with a grunt—whatever thoughts are left in Isa's brain evaporate. Your pace is slow and deliberate, so she tries to fuck herself on you faster than you're fucking her; whenever you pull out, her hips follow after you, like she can't stand for your cock to leave her empty for so long.
You give one of her breasts a firm squeeze while your thumb rubs over her firm nipple. With your free hand, you slip two fingers into Isa's mouth; she accepts them readily, her tongue swirling around your digits. She sucks on your fingers till they're dripping with her spit—your other hand alternates between both breasts now. They deserve all the attention they get, and then ten times over. Isa's breasts aren't the biggest, but they're the prettiest: perky with small pink nipples; they bounce enticingly with your movements. When you squeeze them, she starts grazing your back with her nails while her heels dig into you. Her walls spasm and clench around your girth—her orgasm is imminent.
"Daddy, please," she whines. "Need to cum!"
"Kitten, we just got started." You pull your cock out of her pussy and slide it between her labia, between the plushness of her folds. You lean down to plant soft pecks on her forehead, on her eyelids, and then down to her lips again as you continue to rut against her pussy. "Aren't you sensitive?"
Isa lets out the cutest growl and shakes her head. "N-noouh... It, it doesn't matter. You stretch me open so good."
You slide your hands under Isa's ass; she sits up, making it easier for you to carry her off the bed. With her ankles still hooked around each other like a seatbelt, you stand upright, bringing Isa up with you—she's light as a feather as buries her face in the crook of your neck. Even as you take a step back, away from the bed, Isa continues to rub her sensitive core against your throbbing shaft. Maybe here, she's not so much a kitten, but a puppy whose tail wags when happy or excited.
Next to her nightstand, you press Isa against the wall with your body while you adjust your grip on her ass—in this position, your fingers sink deep into the supple flesh. You lower your hips to angle your cock towards the entrance of Isa's cunt and let gravity do its work: she sinks onto your dick with a squeal. Isa gasps sharply as your cock hits a new part of her insides, and she claws at your back harder than ever. You can almost see the outline of your shaft through her taut midriff with how deeply you're penetrating her.
Isa mutters, "So much of Daddy's cock is inside me. It feels so good. Harder. Fuck me harder."
"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you."
You start bouncing her like a cheap toy, pulling her up until only the tip is inside of her, then slamming her back down to the hilt again with enough force to make the pictures on her wall rattle. Isa can do little more than hold onto you for dear life, your cock her only tether to this world—her eyes have gone blank again, and you can feel her going rigid in the same way she did earlier when you made her cum. You continue fucking into her with no pause in your rhythm, no rest for Isa's aching cunt.
"Cum with me, please! Please!"
"Gonna breed you so hard, kitten, fuck, fuck, I'm cumming," you manage to say, and that's all you can muster before the tidal wave of orgasm overtakes you and washes all other thoughts and feelings away. You pump her with everything you have, and it's a struggle to keep your balance, as you're responsible for the weight of both of you.
A strangled sound escapes Isa's lips, head thrown back, a rosy tint on her chest and face, nipples rock hard, breasts squished against your chest, eyes closed, brow furrowed, teeth gritted, thighs squeezing your hips with unbelievable force—it's an allergy-long list.
You know that she's feeling everything you're feeling. With every spasm of her walls around you milking you, your seed erupts inside of her and floods her womb. Your hips are a blur as they pump into Isa's warmth again and again. Her cunt is a hot and sticky mess with juices leaking down her inner thighs—you feel it all around your cock, dripping onto the carpet below—and you're adding thick rope after rope of your cum into the mix. Your knees are weak; they wobble like jello, but you fight to stay upright. Isa is still conscious—somewhat—and she clings to you for support and safety as if she wants to stay connected with you forever. You fuck her until neither of you can take it anymore, her silken heat pulsating with sensitivity. And then, she sighs, and you feel her body go slack, and you're ready to do the same.
The two of you collapse onto the bed, sweaty, tired, satisfied. There's an instant where you consider pulling out, but you don't. You can't; there's nowhere else to go and no one else to be. Isa asked you to cum inside, and you have, so you'll stay inside until your dick softens enough to slide out naturally. You enjoy the hot, slick feel of her insides too much anyway to want to pull out so quickly, the cream leaking out from around your cockhead. You also just want to bask in this afterglow with your precious kitten.
Isa curls up against you as she wraps her limbs around your body and pulls you close, and you feel a strange surge of emotion well up inside of you as you hold her in return. It's not the same euphoria from climaxing or even the physical warmth of sex. It's something deeper, something you've never felt before.
"How was your first time feeling cum inside?" you ask after a moment of silence.
"G-good." She grips your wrist tightly as her face flushes red again. "Even better than I imagined. And the fact it's yours... it makes me feel all fuzzy inside," she finishes softly.
You kiss her cheek. "I know what you mean."
"I can't believe it." Isa purrs as she rubs her ass against your limp cock. "You're really good at that," she murmurs while nuzzling into your neck. "What the hell. And you're telling me you had bad luck with girls before?"
You shrug. "I don't know. They couldn't handle my dick. And maybe I'd get too rough and... ah, never mind." You feel ashamed admitting these things, but Isa is so understanding. She rubs your cheek and smiles back at you.
"Hey, if they can't take it, that's their loss." Isa kisses you sweetly, then giggles.
There's something about the way Isa acts and talks and is, in general, that puts you at ease—as if she can accept you no matter who you are or what you do, which is funny because she barely knows anything about you."Kitten," you say to yourself, like a habit that's formed whenever you see her now. "Seriously, it's perfect for you."
"I love it." Isa responds. "And I love hearing it come out of your mouth."
"Actually. I can think of something better."
She stares up at you, her eyes half-lidded, her smile lazy and contented. "What is it?" she asks.
"Mine. My kitten."
Isa looks away, embarrassed. "Oh, well, okay then, I'm yours."
***
The more Lee Chaeyoung, your lover, opens up to you, the more she reveals how compatible the two of you are. You watch horror movies together, enjoy the same drinks, have similar tastes in food. She confesses a bit too eagerly that she loves to cook, finding it more of a challenge for her than anyone else. Best of all, her sense of humor clicks with yours. You feel like you could just talk for hours, whether it's idle chatter, playing games together, or simply relaxing and enjoying her company. Most importantly, the connection you two feel is immediate; your bodies, your minds, every part of you so in tune.
And then there are those wild fantasies that dance within her mind. It drives you to embark on late-night research sessions, delving into the depths of the internet to discover how best to fulfill her desires. While you cherish these wholesome moments with Isa, the temptation to give in becomes increasingly difficult to resist. With someone as naturally sensual as her, it's only a matter of time before you succumb. You get the funny feeling that Isa might find a way to substitute sleep with sex if given the chance.
After an exhausting day of work, you're at your usual rendezvous point with Isa, but with a few of her friends for dinner. Isa's eyes lock onto yours—you would travel to hell and back if it meant getting to see her smile like that; fortunately, the meeting spot is only a block away from the mundane inferno of your job. She runs up to you and jumps into your arms, her legs wrapped around your waist as she kisses you deeply. Her friends respond with various levels of disgust, amusement, and jealousy.
"How was your day?" she asks as she climbs down.
"It was okay, I guess. A lot better now that I got to see you." You stroke her cheek and kiss her forehead. "Sorry for being late. I had something important I needed to pick up."
"Oh?" A raise of her brow.
You reach into your pocket and pull out a small bag with a collection of hair ties. "Because you lost your favorite one a few days ago," you say.
Her eyes light up when she sees what's inside. "Thank you!" She wraps her arms around your neck and showers your face in kisses.
"Of course," you respond through stifled laughter. "You wouldn't stop whining about it."
She pulls back, mock offense written on her face before she eyes the small gift again with delight twinkling in her eyes. You share an affectionate bump as you return towards where her friends are waiting, the streets alive with the hum of nightlife and the liveliness of the city's residents.
As you all arrive at Sumin's apartment, you feel nervous, excited, and jittery all at the same time. You've only heard about these friends, and now there's all this pressure. Isa keeps staring at you and flashing you little knowing grins, and you can't stop smiling back at her. As you both sit down on the sofa and watch her friends cook in the kitchen, she throws herself into your lap, sitting with her legs draped over yours.
Woah," you say, surprised. "Are you trying to show off in front of your friends? Everyone's watching, you know."
Isa chuckles, leaning back against your chest and looking up at you. "Maybe. Do you want me to stop?"
You smile back at her, squeezing her thigh. "Uhh, a little, to be honest. I don't want your other friends to think of me as some douche."
She rubs her thumb across your palm, nodding in agreement. "I think I've made it obvious how much I like you, but you're right, you're right." Isa pouts, getting off your lap, though it's too late; you feel a stirring in your groin as you look at her slender body.
Just then, her friends finish up the meal, and everyone sits down to eat. Isa insists on sitting next to you, and she keeps smiling and looking over at you as you eat together. "Did you like the beef?" she asks. "I can cook it better than any you've ever had."
"Yeah, it was really good," you reply. You're still hungry. Not food.
"How did you two end up together?" Chaehyun asks before she drinks some more beer.
Sullyoon raises her hand, a grin on her as always when talking about you too. "Oh, it was me." She gives Isa a wink. "I actually set them up because Isa didn't have the balls."
Isa pouts. "Hey, that's not true."
You chuckle, enjoying the way her cheeks are flushed as her friends tease her.
"Besides, that was just the first step. What really sealed the deal was all the snacks he bought for me at the store," she says, grinning proudly.
"Really?" Sumin asks?
"Actually," you interject, "it was love at first sight when we saw each other."
"Eww," she says, rolling her eyes.
You grin sheepishly, putting your hands up defensively. "Well, it's true! We just... I don't know, there's just something about her that feels right."
Isa smiles and bites her lip, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks as she stares at you with dreamy eyes. "Yeah," she agrees softly.
There's a short lull in the conversation as everyone processes what you both have just said. You try to break the mood: "But really, it was the snacks. I'm serious!"
That earns a few laughs from everyone. Isa's hand rests on your shoulder, and you feel her fingers brushing against the back of your neck, brushing the goosebumps she just made. She bites her lip, looks over at you, and you can tell she's dying to get her hands on you, too.
The rest of the night goes along without a hitch as you play some games with everyone, eat more food. Afterwards, you walk with Isa, and she reaches out to grab your hand as you walk. The street lamps act as loyal guides, casting their gentle glow upon the silent, deserted roads, illuminating your path as you journey towards the car.
When you finally arrive at your destination, an electric charge lingers in the air, and if you look up there should be thunder clouds and static electricity where there's an inky black night sky, and kablam—Isa's lips meet yours, and there comes the strike.
As you reluctantly part, gasping for air, Isa leans her head against yours, her finger tracing a delicate path along your cheek. "I had so much fun tonight," she murmurs.
You run a hand through Isa’s red hair, a darker and more faded color. "Yeah. I did too."
"So… my place again?" she asks. It feels like the sort of question she'll be asking a lot.
You meet her gaze, giving her a nod and a renewed kiss. Opening the car door, you allow Isa to slip into the passenger seat.
"Did you like hanging out with my friends?" Isa asks.
"Yeah, a lot." When you step into the vehicle, you take in the new car smell; it's only a few days old. But more overpowering is Isa's hand cream as you take her hand and kiss it again, and again, and again.
She laughs as you tickle her with pecks. "They liked you too! I didn't think you would click so well with them." She pauses. "They also thought we were really cute together."
You start up the car and pull off, eager to get the two of you back to her place. "I'm glad. That means I get to keep being around your friends, which means I get to spend more time with you."
Her cheeks flush and her mouth quirks upward. "Okay, I have a question for you, what do you want to do when we get to my place?" Her tone is teasing and seductive.
"Hmm, I don't know. What do you want me to do to you?"
She grins and giggles, but doesn't answer right away. Her legs cross over each other as she ponders her response. You look at her and smile. You love how cute she looks when she's thinking, and you especially love when she's thinking of you. "We could… cook something. Together. Or, you know, you could read me a book to sleep and—no. Th-the only thing I can think of is last time... God, I don't want you to think of me as some kind of pervert."
"Hey," you say softly. "I like your perversion." Your fingers run along her thigh, brushing against her inner leg. "I've got some things in mind that I'd like to try myself, so it's fine."
"I can't even sleep in my own couch or bed properly without thinking about you fucking me," she mumbles, before biting her lip and staring out the window with a frown.
"I'm sorry."
She waves your apology away dismissively. "No! It's not that bad, I'm definitely exaggerating. But sometimes, before I sleep, I get into the same position and..." Her voice trails off as her eyes close and her eyebrows furrow together. Her hands move on their own, miming the same actions as they had before, fingers running down her torso, over her breasts, her hips. As quick as her hand makes it there, she stops, and the blush deepens on her face. Her eyes flutter open and meet yours, then flick to the road ahead of you. "Yeah," she says, trying to shake off the thoughts plaguing her mind.
"Woah," you say. You reach out and touch her thigh, running your fingertips along the smooth, cool material. "You okay?"
"Yes." Her gaze fixes on the passing scenery beyond the window. "Just... really turned on. And we still have a drive ahead."
You chuckle. "Well, I'll try my best to distract you."
Isa groans as you run a hand up her thigh and squeeze gently. She grabs your wrist. "Ah, ahhh, that feels nice. But don’t get carried away. Crashing isn’t sexy."
You laugh, nodding. "Right, right." You pull your hand back, focusing on the road.
The two of you have more mundane conversations, but somehow the topic comes up: "So you know how you... um, call me kitten?"
A knowing smile tugs at your lips as you lean into her words. "Yep."
Her cheeks flush, and she playfully averts her gaze, her voice tinged with a bashful giggle. "What if, uh, we played more with that?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you know, since I love cats so much and we can't even have one." She holds up the cat plushie you keep in the car for good measure.
You also note the word "we" and smile to yourself. "Are you sure that's the reason? Not just you being horny."
"Yah!"
"Alright, alright," you concede, the playful tone of your voice mirroring hers. "So, what kind of things were you thinking of? Other than a collar, obviously."
"And a leash."
"Well…" Never mind, you don't mind eschewing some realism here.
"But, yeah, that was the start. That I kinda, you know, wanted to try. But also, you were really good at taking charge. How you teased me and made me wait and rewarded me when I'm good. More of that. I want you to claim me and own me and…" She trails off, too embarrassed and blushing to say anymore. It's incredibly cute to watch her squirm as she tries to bring up the rest of her ideas. With your research, you already have an idea of what sorts of things she might be into, but it’s best to hear from her.
"Go on, kitten, talk," you command, putting a heavy weight in your tone, and she almost immediately lets out a sigh of relief.
"Please, be patient," she whines, laughing. Her voice drops to a whisper, the lust in her eyes undeniable. "You could be the, uhm, dominant one and, uh, I would, do whatever you want me to."
"That’s what I figured."
"Right." She can't even look at you. "I meant, you know, really getting into it, the whole roleplay thing."
The mere idea makes you want to put the pedal to the floor and reach Isa's place as quickly as possible, but you calm yourself.
She continues: "So, you could, maybe pet me, and I would purr."
You pat the head of the cat plushie next to Isa, who places a hand on it, giggling. "Yeah, and you have such a cute little kitty mouth and even your tongue is like a little lappy tongue."
Isa turns even more red and stops talking, covering her face with her hands and laughing. You chuckle, and after a moment she gathers her wits and puts her hands down.
"Yeah," she confirms, her voice filled with both excitement and shyness. "And maybe... you can give me commands to learn some tricks. Like waving my paws at you or shaking my head no." Her words spill forth in a rush of anticipation.
And again, you want to note that’s less of a kitten thing and more of a puppy thing, but you don’t mind making an exception for her. A playful glint dances in your eyes. "And you're meant to be my plaything, a slutty... pet kitten for your owner?" you suggest, your voice heavy with desire and dominance.
She nods, her brain slipping like a broken record. "Yes," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "Everything you said... and maybe you could really punish me if I'm naughty."
Isa's breath hitches, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she considers the question. "However you see fit. But maybe... you could take your belt and use it to smack my butt when I'm being naughty." She pauses, her voice growing softer. "Actually, I kinda like it when you're really rough with me. Like... how I get all dizzy when you tire me out. And it's hot when you treat me like a toy, like when you carried me… fuck. You could even tie me up or choke me, if that's what you want."
"Or I could just use a gag if I felt lazy," you say playfully, the possibilities swirling in your mind.
Isa laughs, a sound that holds both excitement and a hint of anticipation. Yet, beneath the laughter, a whimper escapes her lips. "Speaking of which," she murmurs, "I wanted to buy some things for this." Her eyes meet yours briefly before darting away. Isa squirms in her seat, her cheeks flushed as she busies herself with searching for the necessary items online. The soft glow of the screen illuminates her face, casting a warm and inviting light upon her features.
A smile graces your lips as you pat her head. "Good girl," you praise, your voice filled with affection. "I like it when you're helpful."
Eventually, she gives you directions to some store, and you continue driving in comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts.
The two of you arrive, and you realize quickly that it's a sex shop, the neon sign flickering in the night, windows blackened by curtains. The car engine purrs to a halt.
"I was surprised it's still open," Isa says.
You glance at the shop's entrance, its door ajar, beckoning you inside, even if the rest of the exterior looks quite sketchy. "There are probably customers who can only shop for this kind of thing at night," you reply with a shrug.
Stepping out of the car, Isa leads the way, her stride filled with confidence. The store's interior greets you with emptiness, save for a bored employee who looks as if he'd rather be anywhere else. Undeterred, you grab a shopping basket, its metal handle cool against your palm, and begin to venture down the aisles, searching for the items you need. "I think we could get the collar and leash here," you suggest.
Your eyes scan the shelves until they land upon a display of collars and harnesses. Among them, one catches your attention—a delicate collar adorned with a tiny bell that tinkles with every movement, along with matching cat ears. You pluck it from its hook and hold it up for Isa to see. "This one is cute," you say, excitement lacing your voice.
Isa's eyes light up as she nods in agreement, her fingers reaching out to caress another collar with a keyhole cutout in the front. "This would work too.”
Together, you gather the collars and leashes, placing them gently into the basket. Your exploration continues, which leads you to a section dedicated to all things furry. A playful smirk tugs at your lips as you remark, "I guess we're furries now?"
Isa chuckles "I don't think just wearing cat ears makes me a furry."
Your search within the furry section yields a couple of tail plugs, their soft fur tickling your fingertips. You also grab a simpler metal butt plug, its smooth surface gleaming under the store's fluorescent lights. "But this part of the store has a lot of relevant things for us," you remark.
Isa's laughter echoes through the aisles as she plucks a box from the shelf and holds it up to her head. "Do you think this will look cute on me?" she asks, her eyes sparkling.
Taking the box from her hands, you read the label—a kit to transform Isa into a feline goddess, complete with cat ears, a bushy tail, and mitts made of faux fur for your hands to poke out from. She didn't have to ask—you can already picture it. "Hmm, I think so."
You grab a different set, one without the mitts instead. Your exploration of the shop continues until you find yourselves in the fetish and roleplay section, a realm filled with endless possibilities. Bondage ropes, gags, cuffs, tape, and a blindfold join the basket.
Isa's voice breaks through the silence, her tone filled with awe and amusement. "Wow, we are really going all in."
"Well, I mean, I guess we could gift these if we're not using any of them?"
 "That's true. Although, you know," she pauses, her voice lowering to a whisper, "I think I'd prefer to keep them, just in case."
 You nod, and continue browsing through the selections, adding more and more to the shopping basket. You eventually end up with a pile of toys and accessories, and you head to the counter to check out. The transaction complete, you grab the bags from the car and begin the journey back home.
 The weight of your purchases fills the car. "Don’t think I’ve ever spent that much," you jest, bags as passengers of the back seats. "I could've bought a refrigerator with what we got today. You looked pretty excited."
 Isa nudges your elbow gently as you resume driving. "Aww, c'mon. It wasn't that much."
 "It's a lot. But nothing says we have to use all of these tonight."
"I had fun anyway," she says, her eyes lighting up with a spark of mischief. "Like, I didn't even know they could sell a dildo in that size."
You shake your head in disbelief. "I definitely did not know that either."
The drive home is quieter now; perhaps both of you need some time to digest everything or maybe exhaustion has settled upon your shoulders, remarkably late to be shopping. Regardless, the silence wraps around you like a cozy blanket, comforting and familiar. You steal glances at Isa, her head nodding as she struggles to keep her eyes open, tiredness finally catching up with her.
As you approach the parking lot of her place, she turns to you, a yawn escaping her lips as she stretches. "So, are we really doing this tonight?"
You study her tired expression, a gentle smile curving your lips. "Looks like you don't have the energy for it."
"Mmm," she hums in agreement, her eyelids heavy. "But we can at least try on the collar, right? And maybe a leash too."
You park the car and enter her apartment hand in hand. Both of you are too weary to engage in anything too active. Sitting on her bed, you gaze into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passing between you. With gentle hands and loving intent, you help Isa put on the collar and leash. In this quiet moment, the weight of your purchases fades into insignificance.
She leans against you and nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck, finding solace in the warmth of your embrace. "Mmm, this feels nice," she whispers with a soft smile.
You wrap your arm around her, your touch grazing her back with tenderness. "Yes, it does," you respond, your voice laced with warmth as you press a gentle kiss upon the crown of her head.
Moments pass as you revel in the closeness and intimacy shared between you two. The weariness of the day slowly takes its toll on Isa, her eyes heavy with sleep as she falls into a peaceful slumber. You gently remove the collar from her delicate neck before joining her in a state of restfulness.
As dawn breaks, the darkness still cloaks the world beyond the windowsill, casting a serene atmosphere within the room. Isa lies beside you, her vivid red hair splayed gracefully across the pillow. Shifting slightly against the headboard, you sit up, observing her serene form.
Isa stirs beside you, murmuring softly in her sleep. Your hand instinctively glides through her hair, caressing her strands in an attempt to lull her back into peaceful dreams. Gradually, her restlessness subsides, and she curls up on the bed, her head resting gently in your lap. You continue to pet her, savoring the sensation of her soft hair cascading through your fingers, feeling the tension in her body gradually dissipate under your gentle touch.
Reaching over to the nightstand, you retrieve the collar and leash. With utmost care, you secure the collar around her neck, clasping it tenderly. Tugging gently on the leash, she shifts, turning onto her side as she gazes up at you with sleepy eyes.
"Hello," she murmurs softly, her voice raspy with sleep.
A playful twinkle dances in your eyes as she playfully paws at your pants, her actions betraying her half-awake state. "Hi, kitten," you respond, your words infused with affection.
Her lips curl into a contented smile, her eyes still closed. "Mmm, that feels lovely," she purrs, the warmth of her breath against your groin causing you to grow. She nuzzles her face closer, her cheek rubbing gently against your clothed erection, eliciting a small moan of pleasure from her lips.
"You like that, don't you?" you whisper, pulling on her leash gently. "You like feeling your owner's cock on your face."
"Mmhmm," she mumbles in response, nodding with sleepy acquiescence. Her tongue slips out to moisten your clothed shaft, tracing teasing patterns that leave droplets of saliva upon the fabric.
You allow her to continue. Your hand continues to caress her hair while pulling lightly on the leash. She is fully awake now, but she maintains the guise of half-consciousness, her hands exploring your thighs, your hardened length, and eventually slipping beneath your waistband to cup your testicles. A quiet groan escapes your lips as her fingers tease and stroke your sac, intensifying the pleasure that courses through you.
Driven by desire and the intoxicating sensation of her touch, you slowly lower your pants and boxers. With closed eyes, Isa remains blissfully unaware of the freedom you have granted your erection. A mischievous giggle escapes her lips as your engorged shaft brushes against her nose.
"I'm sorry," you whisper.
"It's okay," she says, her voice heavy with sleep. "I love how big and heavy your cock is."
You drink in the sight before you, captivated by the image of her mouth agape, her tongue peeking out in anticipation. She searches for your shaft without needing to see it, her breath hot upon your skin. Finally finding your tip, she lavishes it with lazy kitten-like licks that send waves of pleasure cascading through your body.
Isa begins to take your cockhead into her mouth, her movements unhurried as she places it delicately between her lips, producing a gentle hum of satisfaction. A quiet moan escapes your throat as you feel her warm and wet mouth enveloping your tip, her tongue swirling sensually along your shaft. Her fingers find their way to the base of your cock, stroking it with a gentle rhythm.
The leash tightens around your hand as a surge of heat courses through your veins. Isa continues to suckle on your tip with an air of carefree abandon, contentedly humming and purring against the sensitive flesh. Her other hand tenderly caresses your testicles, eliciting a louder moan of pleasure from your lips.
If not for the telltale signs of her increasing arousal, you might still believe the façade of her half-asleep state. Yet, her hips writhe and rise in the air, her thighs rubbing together in a desperate bid for more. Entranced by this view of her unbridled desire, your hand descends to grab and squeeze her ass through her sweatpants. She gasps in response, her hand quickening its pace along your length. The passion between you intensifies as she strives to maintain her lips around your cockhead while her fingers twist around your engorged shaft. The pleasure becomes nearly overwhelming, the warmth and wetness of her mouth coupled with the tantalizing flicks of her tongue sending you hurtling towards the precipice of climax. It is then that you pull on her leash, your voice laden with a mixture of restraint and longing.
You reluctantly withdraw the pulsating erection from her entrancing mouth, causing Isa to emit a soft whimper as you gently lift her to meet your gaze. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed, and her lips swollen from your earlier intimacy. The sight of her arousal is almost too much to bear.
"How about we pick up where we left off last night?" you suggest, your voice barely above a whisper.
Isa nods eagerly, her eyes lustful and full of desire. "Yes, Daddy," she whispers back, her voice trembling with anticipation.
You tenderly stroke her hair, the gesture eliciting shivers from her delicate frame. "Good girl," you murmur, your voice filled with affection. "Now, take off your clothes for me and get on all fours on the bed."
She obeys your command, her movements graceful as she removes her shirt and sweatpants. Her breath catches in her throat as her breasts bounce freely, their curves captivating your gaze. With each article of clothing discarded, her thick hips are bared to you, an invitation that sets your pulse racing. The sight of her thighs, smooth and inviting, arouses a primal desire within you. Your palm glides across their soft, pillowy skin, reveling in the exquisite sensation.
You reach down and retrieve the bags you left on the floor, your fingers grazing over the array of items until they land on the cat tail plug nestled among the contents. The plug end gleams in the soft light, its sleek surface inviting to the touch. With a gentle caress, you turn it over in your hand, feeling the plushness of the fluffy tail against your skin. Running the tail plug over Isa's body, you revel in the power it holds. The toy traces a path along her bare chest and down her bare legs, the contrast of the cold metal and the soft fur eliciting a delicious squirm from her. Your voice laced with a hint of mischief as you ask, "Have you ever tried anything anal before? Or this type of toy?"
Isa shakes her head bashfully, yet there's a palpable eagerness in her eyes as she holds her hands behind her back, offering herself to you completely.
"I'm going to have to prepare you then," you say, taking out a bottle of lube and applying it generously to the plug. You take the bottle with you as you settle on your knees and crouch down behind her ass, holding the toy in one hand. Your index prods the underside of her tailbone, and she gasps as you reach down, kissing her plump asscheeks. "Is this okay?" you ask, wanting to make sure.
"Y-yes, Daddy," Isa stammers. You drag the pad of your finger against her skin, eliciting a tremor from her and a new gasp that drops into a long moan, and then you take that as a cue to rub it down her crack, tickling her pussy along the way. "O-oh, Daddy!" she whines, humping your hand in need.
"Kitten, remember." As you speak, you press two of your fingers between her plump folds, your thumb and forefinger gently squeezing her clit. She wiggles her ass, squeaking. "If you want to be a good girl, you have to be patient."
"Daddy," she begs, "please, please, more..." She bucks again, her wet folds clamping around your fingers and your knuckles squeezing her entrance. You rub them up and down, spreading her juices. She's a sticky mess, her arousal dripping down your hand, and you grin, pleased.
"No, not yet. We have to get your ass ready first." Your pointer digit now slick, you squeeze a dollop of lube in your other hand, and you smear it along her asshole.
"Ah!" Isa cries, tensing up at the sudden cold. You shush her, rubbing her pucker with your fingertip, then gradually pressing your lubed finger into her, past the tight ring of muscle, feeling the walls of her ass tense around your digit. You move slowly, pushing your finger further into Isa, letting her get used to the sensation. You reach the second knuckle, and you can feel her starting to relax, her walls loosening up around you. "Ohhh," she moans, her hands balled into fists on the bedsheets.
You curl your finger, pushing against her walls, trying to get her accustomed to the sensation. She moans louder, her hips bucking back against your hand. She seems to be enjoying herself, so you continue, slipping another finger into her ass, this time your middle finger.
"Ah! Daddy!" She cries out, her back arching and her ass pushing against your fingers, taking them deeper into her. You continue, working your fingers in and out of her ass, stretching her out. "It feels so good, Daddy," she moans, her voice trembling.
You pull your fingers out of her ass, and you place the tip of the plug against her, gently pushing it in. "Here’s the plug now," you explain, as you press it against her entrance. "You need to relax, kitten, and let it in."
With a whimper, Isa goes pliant, and you exert steady pressure. Her brow furrows as the plug breaches her entrance, slowly sinking into her clutching heat. She winces as the girth spreads her wide, and you pause, giving her time to adjust to the intrusion.
When her expression smooths, you resume pushing, watching inch after inch disappear until only the flared base remains nestled between her cheeks. The furry tail sways with each squirm of her hips.
You caress the warm skin of her backside. "How does that feel, kitten?"
"So good, Daddy," she breathes, gazing at you through heavy lids. "I didn't know my ass could stretch like that."
A surge of pride washes over you as you reward her obedience with words of affirmation. "Good girl," you murmur, pressing a kiss against her ass before redirecting your attention to her dripping-wet pussy. With a teasing motion, you spread her folds apart, running your fingers up and down her slick slit, teasing her entrance. Her thighs fall open with a needy whine. "I think we should have some breakfast first," you say, unable to keep the grin from your voice.
She whines. "Nooo, but I, I need your cock, in me, or your fingers, or anything—"
"Not yet," you say sternly. "You have to be patient. And if I tell you to wait, then you'll wait."
Isa pouts in response, her bottom lip jutting out in a sulky pout, but ultimately nods her agreement. You remove the leash from her collar, and the two of you make your way towards the kitchen. As she walks, there’s a slight awkwardness to her gait, a subtle gracelessness that somehow only adds to her allure. Her posterior sways enticingly with each step, captivating your attention as you trail behind in a purposeful slowness. She knows what she’s doing too: the seductive undulation of her hips from side to side makes her tail bounce playfully, and she casts a mischievous smile over her shoulder.
You follow her lead, entering the kitchen where you open the fridge and begin gathering ingredients. Your eyes flick towards Isa, who’s settled herself onto a barstool. Her legs are spread wide, and her fingers tease and rub at her own clit. The tail plug nestled between her legs seems like the most natural extension of her body. A mixture of surprise and intrigue crosses your face. "What are you doing?" you ask, walking over to her.
She blinks up at you with feigned innocence, but a glint of mischief dances in her eyes. "Just getting used to my new tail, Daddy," she purrs playfully. "Aren't I such a good kitten?"
You shake your head. "Looks like you're trying to make me fuck you." You reach over, taking hold of the base of the tail plug and pulling it out slightly, before shoving it back in. Isa cries out, her body tensing up as you repeat the action, fucking her ass with the plug. "If you can't control yourself, then maybe I'll just have to punish you."
A chorus of moans escapes Isa's lips, her defiant fingers moving faster against her clit in a desperate plea for more. "Yes, Daddy, please," she begs, her voice a symphony of need and longing.
Your grin widens, a surge of dominance coursing through your veins as you grab her arm, pulling it away from her throbbing core. "No, kitten," you assert firmly, your voice commanding. "You're not allowed to touch yourself."
Isa whimpers in protest, her desire palpable, but she obediently complies with your command, her hands remaining bound behind her back. You release her arm, your eyes locked on the sight of her restrained beauty, her need radiating from every pore.
"Since you insist on misbehaving like that," you declare, your voice laced with a hint of playful authority, "I'll have to tie you properly." With purposeful determination, you retrieve the rope you had acquired for this very purpose, expertly maneuvering it around her delicate wrists, binding them securely together. Isa's whimper of surrender echoes through the room as the rope bites into her skin, marking her as yours.
With the task completed, you turn your attention back to the kitchen, resuming your culinary endeavors. The rhythmic sound of knife meeting cutting board fills the air as you deftly chop vegetables and toss them into a waiting bowl. Isa's eyes never leave you, her body wriggling with anticipation and desire, the tail plug nestled between her legs a constant reminder of her submissive state.
"Daddy, please," she pleads, her voice filled with a desperate longing. "I want your cock so bad. I need you to fuck me."
You shake your head, ignoring her, and continue working. You add the dressing to the salad, and you bring it over to her. She glances toward the cutlery in front of her, and you nod—if she wants to be a naughty animal, then she deserves to be treated like one. You also give her water in a bowl for added measure. You smile as you watch her try to pick up the salad with her mouth, struggling to use her lips and tongue to get the lettuce into her mouth. She eventually manages it, and she starts chewing, swallowing the vegetables. Isa also laps up from the bowl with a blush on her face.
You watch her eat, pleased, and you stroke your cock through your pants, teasing yourself. After she finishes the salad and as much of the water as she can, you get up from your seat, and you grab a hold of the rope binding her wrists together, pulling on it and leading her to the bedroom.
You help carefully pull the tail plug out of her ass, and you slip in a new butt plug, smaller and more discreet. "I think you can handle this one," you say, squeezing her ass and rubbing her back. She mewls, her legs quivering.
You grab a pair of panties and slip them onto her, helping her into them and pulling them up her thick thighs. She wiggles her hips, struggling to keep herself balanced as you adjust them for her, before you take out a skirt and help her step into it.
"We're going out today, kitten," you say. "You're going to wear your collar and cat ears in public, and no one will know that your slutty kitten asshole is going to be filled up. And if you’re good, then maybe you’ll get what you really want."
"Really?" she asks, her eyes widening with excitement.
You nod. "Yes, really."
"O-Okay." You quickly dress and head outside, the two of you enjoying the morning and the quiet streets. You don't have any concrete plans today, but there's a list of things in your mind that you would enjoy getting Isa to do: pet her in public, talk her into cumming just from sitting in your lap, even a spank here or there. While you don't bring the leash this time, you might try it some time in the future, and you want her to be comfortable. Right now, she just looks like a fashionable girl wearing animal ears.
As the two of you go on with your day, you try to spot signs of the fact she's aroused: the way she walks, the way she moves her arms, her eyes constantly wandering down and scanning the bulge in your pants. You catch her trying to squeeze her legs together or rub her thighs to get friction. At one point, when you sit in an isolated corner of a coffee shop, she rests her head in your lap and purrs contentedly. You gently rub her hair and scratch behind her ears, whispering for her to "think about Master's cock filling you up while your other hole's all plugged up" but also "not to cum without Master's permission." There's a soft moan against your crotch, then a warm sigh as her cheek rubs into your leg.
✦✧✦✧✦✧
After spending the whole day taking her around and making her go do mundane tasks with the plug, and most importantly having her beg and beg for you to fuck her—"in the park, on a bench, or the bushes in a hiking trail, anywhere please" she said—you're excited, eager for this evening. Isa looks back at you with tears brimming in her eyes, and her knees wobbling, as she's panting and trying to hold back from cumming. "Please," she begs. "I need it. Please, anything."
You think you have her just about at her limit when you both return to the car to drive back to Isa's place. Even the walk from the parking lot to Isa's apartment door has her clinging to you for support as she stumbles.
"Hey, kitten," you say, touching the small of her back under her shirt. "Are you okay?"
"It's fine. I'm just, so, so, worked up, fuck. I want your cock," she pouts, tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. She hunches forward, unable to look at you.
"I bet," you tease, kissing the top of her head. "I'll give you what you want soon, kitten. Just a little longer."
She whimpers. "Please."
"Okay, c'mon, baby," you say, letting go and opening the door for her. She staggers in on her jelly-like legs, her cheeks flushed and her breath hitching. You get behind her and hug her; holding her as tightly as you are, Isa relaxes into you. Her heart is pounding wildly against your palm. You set her down onto the couch, and she gives you a grateful smile, which you kiss in turn. Your hands roam all over her, down her waist and settling between her legs. You slip under her panties and tease the metal plug in her butt, twisting it until you hear a deep sigh from her. "You're so wet," you tell her. "Look at you. So sweet."
She makes a keening noise when you tug on the plug, just so, just enough to remind her of what you both want. Your finger teases along her folds, gently brushing up and down against the seam, up towards the hood of her clit. Isa shivers.
"Do you want me to make you cum?" you ask as you rub her clit.
"Mmhm," Isa nods furiously, her hands coming up to grasp at your shoulders, looking for purchase. "P-please. Make me cum."
At this point, a single digit thrust would probably be enough to push her over the edge. Instead, you remove your hands from her panties, place them on her breasts, squeeze them, and gently tug on her nipples. You love the way the skin of her neck and breasts blush with arousal. "You've been a good kitten," you say, cupping her ass and pulling her closer. "I'm so proud of you."
“Can, can I get a reward?” she asks, almost in tears.
You brush her tousled hair. “Shh, shh, of course. Do you want to cum on Daddy’s face?”
She nods emphatically while her pussy soaks her panties and leaks onto the couch. “Y-yes, Daddy, anything.”
In response, you pick her up and carry her to the bedroom, and she clings to you like a lifeline, as if afraid that if she lets you go, you won’t touch her and she might break into pieces from frustration. You lie down on the bed, and Isa climbs on top of you.
She quickly aligns her pussy with your face, and your mouth waters in anticipation at the sight of her darkened panties. You hook one finger around the thin and wet fabric and pull them down to reveal her swollen pussy, her asshole plugged tightly. “You smell so good,” you say, licking your lips as she mewls. “Sit.”
Isa does as told, and the warmth of her mound rests on your chin. She braces her hands on the headboard as you raise your head a bit to reach her core. You kiss her lower lips with reverence and delicacy, like you would kiss her lips. They're warm, warm and soaked with her honey, and they part easily to reveal the pink insides. Her clit is standing erect, almost painfully so, and the hood has pulled away.
You begin by flicking the tip of your tongue against it. She jumps. Then, you take the sensitive pearl into your mouth. Isa groans at this, but you don't stay for too long. You place wet, loud kisses against her mound and inner thighs, before going back to her clit. This time, you suck on it. A little nip sends her jumping on you again, and she yelps. The next kiss is quick and soft.
As she grows accustomed to the new stimulation, you suck and lick and nibble her clit, all while keeping an eye on her face. You see it scrunch up, her nose crinkling in pleasure, her eyes shut. Her moans are accompanied by whines, little pathetic sounds that let you know she's getting close to her breaking point.
There is nothing quite like eating out Isa while she has a toy in her ass and she's wearing cat ears and a cute collar, but more delicious than any picture is the taste of her cream, musky and tangy and addictive. It drips from the swollen labia that your tongue slides through, coating your tongue and making you dizzy with lust. It's strong and you can't help but groan as you dig your face deeper against her sex, lips meeting lips as your tongue.
Isa grinds down on your mouth, and her hips tremble when you begin to circle your tongue around her clit, giving the firm bundle of nerves light but frequent attention. She's a mess on you, and you're happy to be cleanup duty, your chin and shirt a mop. As she rocks back and forth, you reach up at her nipples through her shirt and twist and pinch and roll the stiff buds.
With that, Isa's hips rock one last time as her thighs close and press against the sides of your head. You hear the distant, muffled, muted sounds of her whining, crying, moaning. By now, you can even feel how hard her heart is beating. Her breaths become erratic, and the trembling of her hips turns into shaking. She leans backwards, balancing her weight on your midsection, and the tension in her body snaps.
For a moment, she's floating, mind empty, then everything rushes into her brain like a dam has broken. For the first time that day, she cums, and she cums hard. She's always thought of it as "seeing stars" but now it feels more like being tossed into space and feeling all the gravity around her all at once. All the weight on her body disappears, but the pressure of you increases. She doesn't hear, she doesn't feel. Isa is the color white.
All of a sudden, Isa feels weak. It feels like the universe is a heavy blanket on her. She can barely hold her weight on her body. You're the only thing that feels real at the moment. That, and her pussy, which still tingles with her orgasm, and you can only imagine how the plug in her ass is magnifying everything.
Isa collapses against you, the softness of her flesh warming your chest. She's still convulsing with little aftershocks, her entire body covered in goosebumps. She hears herself saying things like "I love you so much" and "thank you Daddy thank you". The words leave her mouth on their own as she begins to come down from her high.
For as much as you love being her seat, you pull her down into a spoon. You wrap your arms around her. Her heart pounds against your forearm and hand. The scent of her shampoo and sweat fill your nostrils. Everything is still hot from her body heat, and you take a deep breath and exhale through your mouth. "Was that worth the wait, kitten?" you ask her.
"Yeah," she says weakly, the only word she can manage at the moment. Her legs are still shaking, and she takes a few moments to focus on slowing down her breathing and her heartbeat. "Well..."
"Well? You need more, huh?" you chuckle. You should've learned to never be surprised at Isa's appetite by now, and the plug in her ass isn't making her any less horny.
"Mmm, mhm. I need your cock so badly. Fuck my ass. I need Daddy to claim me."
You kiss her cheek and tell her to flip over so that she's laying on her stomach, her round ass staring up at you. "You did such a good job," you whisper as you rub your palms across her lower back before lifting her skirt to get a good view.
The plug sits in Isa's asshole, glistening with her fluids. A bottle of lube waits on the nightstand, and you pour it generously over her crack. With as much care as you can muster, you begin to slowly draw it out, savoring the sight of her clenched hole stretching to accommodate the thickest part of the toy. There is an audible pop when the tapered plug slips free, causing Isa to hiss in pleasure as her rectum reflexively tightens to fill the emptiness left inside.
Her delicate fingers reach behind to part her plump cheeks and expose herself further to your gaze. You bite your lip, taken by the lewdness of the image in front of you. You add more lube to the area, another spurt on your index, and circle around the ring of her anus to coat it before pushing a finger in, massaging her inner walls. "How does that feel, baby?" you ask, watching the way her head jerks back and she squirms beneath you.
"Amazing," she mutters, her voice sounding far away. Prone on the bed, Isa is powerless to resist as you slowly remove your finger, adding a second digit. Her ass grips you so snugly, sucking you deeper with each pump, like it's a sleeve for your fingers. She trembles at the feeling of fullness inside, at the raw vulnerability of being splayed before you like this, your gaze unabashedly on her naked ass as you work her open. "C-can you bring me a pillow, please?"
You kiss the nape of her neck as you reach down and slide the pillow under her pelvis. Her ass raised, her back arched, Isa is the picture of supplication. "So beautiful," you whisper against her skin, and she shudders with arousal.
"Da... daddy, do you need to stretch me more?" Isa stammers. You place your palm at the small of her back, caressing the dip of her spine with gentle circles.
"No, kitten," you soothe. "You're ready."
"Yes. God, yes."
With one hand squeezing the supple curve of her butt, you pour lube liberally across the tip of your erection. You position the head of your cock at the rim of her ass and begin to apply pressure, using your thumbs to massage her soft cheeks. Even your tip struggles to breach her, her entrance reluctant to admit anything more girthy than a couple of fingers. With more lube, and two hands spreading her ass open, you finally push through her anal muscles' resistance, gasping as the tightness and warmth of her insides engulfs the head of your shaft.
Isa tenses in response, her hands clawing at the bed sheets. The sound she lets out is almost like a pained meow as your cock plunges further into her depths. "Relax," you murmur, using a tender yet reassuring voice to soothe her.
She responds by shifting her hips, attempting to adjust the angle to your thrust, her movements awkward and fumbling due to her precarious position. Her efforts cause her to clench down on your shaft, a wave of pleasure washing over you, before relaxing once again.
A shaky breath escapes your throat as you feel yourself slipping past the ring of her sphincter. "Good, good girl," you praise once you've sunk halfway into her, taking a moment to drink in the erotic view in front of you. "Fuck, you're tight. Almost there."
Her body shudders as she fights to hold still, to restrain her hips from moving on their own accord, a low cry emanating from her lips.
Your hand roams over her waist and upper thigh, seeking out the delicate bud hidden in the cleft of her pussy. You rub a couple of fingers over the tender flesh, delighting in the way her back arches as you stimulate the swollen organ. Savoring her broken sobs, you ease forward, burying the rest of your length in her ass. You gently slap her butt, marveling at the way it bounces with each contact.
Isa moans as you pull your dick out slightly before plunging it back into her ass, beginning with slow, shallow pumps. The motion is easy and fluid, despite her virgin-tightness.
You press your palms flat against the mattress and use your forearms for leverage to piston into her. As you drive your shaft deeper into her ass, the combination of her intoxicating aroma and your lust for her spurs you to move faster and harder, until you find yourself rutting her, your balls slapping against her puffy cunt with each frantic thrust.
"Yes! More," she begs, and you groan in reply. Your eyes are fixed on your cock, sliding in and out of her stretched hole, the ridges of your shaft disappearing and reappearing as you pump. Your mouth goes dry as you watch the way her body clings to your cock, how she's utterly and completely full of you.
"Fuck, look at you, so greedy," you growl as she pushes back against your cock. You pause for a brief moment and she whines in protest, then you unsheathe your dick and slap it against her gaping asshole. She jolts at the impact, her body shivering at the feeling. Your hips pull back, and with a powerful snap, you ram your cock into her asshole. She cries out in pain and pleasure, the sound echoing throughout the room.
"D-daddy, don't tease me!" she exclaims, her voice pleading, yet laced with desperation. You smirk at the familiarity of her tone.
You bend down, wrapping your arm around her torso and pulling her up and flush against your chest, the weight of her breasts pressing against your bicep and forearm. In this position, both of you are sitting up, her in your lap like you're her throne—her master, her god, her owner. She leans into you, tilting her head back to look up into your eyes, the adoration and reverence shining within her gaze unmistakable. Your shaft presses against her lower back, and she wiggles her ass desperately to urge you to keep fucking her.
You kiss her neck, inhaling her scent, her arousal. With such an incredible woman in your arms, you are overcome by the desire to mark her, to stake your claim on her, to brand her as your possession. In one swift movement, you sink your teeth into her neck, biting into the delicate skin. Isa whines, her head thrown back, eyes half-lidded and glazed over "Mine," you utter in a low, possessive voice.
"Yours," she answers breathlessly, her lips curled in a delirious smile.
You wrap two large hands around her waist, angling your hips just so as you lift her up, and then, she's sliding down your cock, enveloping you in her warmth as you fill her to the brim. As she takes you into her, she stretches open and lets out an obscene moan, her hands gripping the sheets tightly.
"D-daddy!" Isa whimpers, her body trembling at the intensity of the sensations flooding her. "You're so big."
Sitting on you like this, your cock feels impossibly thick inside of her. She can't help the way her thighs twitch involuntarily, nor can she ignore the way her pussy clenches at nothing. With both of her hands, she grabs onto your arm and guides your hand down between her legs, right over her pussy.
"Touch me," she breathes.
You grin at her request, and you oblige, bringing your fingers to her clit. At that moment, you roll your hips upward, meeting her downward motions with a rough, deep thrust, the force of which knocks the breath out of her lungs. Any amount of control she has above you evaporates at this point, leaving her helpless as you bounce her in your lap while your digits play at her raw and pink nub, or probe her slick, wet entrance.
The room is filled with the lewd sounds of her whimpers, of the wet slaps of her ass against your hips, of her needy begging, and of your guttural grunts of effort. Despite the intense climax that shook her only minutes ago, Isa finds herself teetering on the edge of another, and she yearns for release. She's not the only one: her walls cling tightly to your shaft, refusing to yield its grip, and your length pulses with the desperate desire to burst.
"God, I want to feel you cum in my ass, Daddy," she sighs, her head rolling back to lean on your shoulder. Her eyes are closed in concentration, and her mouth hangs open as she gasps and pants and cries with each penetration. You grunt, your gaze hungrily drinking in the sight of her: her reddened, sweaty face, the droplets of perspiration that cling to her collarbone, the rapid rise and fall of her heaving chest, the swaying of her heavy, unrestrained tits.
You suckle at the skin behind her ear, grazing her lobe with your teeth. "Then cum, kitten."
In an instant, a tremor shoots up her spine. With a scream of pure pleasure, her body becomes rigid and then goes limp, her senses overloading as her cunt clamps around your fingers—which doesn't compare at all to her ass clenching and tightening around your cock.
"Fuck, I'm gonna cum too—"
But Isa's mind is hazy with ecstasy, her body taut with her own release, that she barely registers the hot and sticky substance suddenly gushing into her anal entrance. Yours on the other hand is sharp and clear as day, and you allow yourself to drown in the euphoria that comes with each spurt. She's a perfect fit for you, made to be yours, and you've marked her as such. Every time she clenches in her pleasure, your cock responds with its own throb, its own gush, its own pulse.
When you collapse, she collapses with you, her thighs sticky and wet as she pants on the bed, lying beside you. You grab a bunch of tissue paper, clean the leaky, creamy mess you've made of her ass.
Her eyes flutter shut and you whisper words of affection and praise. You cradle her in your arms, stroking her hair and tracing patterns across the flushed skin of her back and belly, enjoying the warmth of her body. Her head rests on your shoulder, your neck. Your legs are entwined, and the softness of her chest molds to the planes of your own. Her breathing eventually steadies, and her pulse calms.
Isa lifts her head up, placing her hands on your chest to prop herself up. With lidded eyes and a mischievous smile, she whispers, "I hope you know what you started, Daddy."
A wicked grin creeps upon your lips at her implication, and your hands find their way to her waist, squeezing her hipbones. "And what's that?"
Her gaze softens, and she gazes lovingly into your eyes, a shy smile on her lips. "I hope you don't plan on going anywhere. I don't think I can ever let you go, especially now," she says softly, a blush rising to her cheeks.
"I wouldn't dream of it." You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "You're mine. So I'm yours, kitten."
"Good."
Isa smiles, and you'll never fail to fall in love with the sight of her radiance; that smile makes you believe you may never fail again.
✦✧✦✧✦✧
Not really in the Christmas/holiday spirit but I figured might as well pull it out of the draft archives before the year end.
356 notes · View notes
Note
What is the first Christmas outside of the factory like for the toys? Do they celebrate it?
Normalcy and other weird things you never heard about
Hiiii! Decided to write something short for this one. I'll be working on all the other Christmas stuff possibly tomorrow! Thanks for the ask, Anon!
As always: 2nd person POV because Angel refers to themself as "you" instead of "me". Also not as always, but this isn't proofread!
"This is weird".
Bunzo holds the comically large Santa Claus hat, wriggling it around. You carefully grab a few extra chocolate boxes to put on your already full cart. "Why?", you ask the bunny as he almost hits his head against another person's legs. "Eyes on front, not the floor!"
"Why would anyone believe a single guy can give presents to all the kids in the world?"
"Parents tell their kids that so they can have more fun during Christmas time", you respond, stopping the cart to now realize you forgot the milk. Again. "To have some magic, I guess".
"Kids are dumb", Bunzo then tries the hat on, ignoring the price tag clashing against his head.
"You are a kid".
You chuckle at his indignant expression before being surprised by a pair of comically long yellow arms. Ollie emerges from the other corridor, milk on hand and a tired expression on his face. "You forgot that again".
"Thanks, Owl".
The long legs then stares at Bunzo and rolls his eyes. "You look like a dumb kid".
"Hey!"
"Please don't fight at the grocery store again", you sigh. "Where's Dogday?"
"Here!"
The pup appears, wheelchair adorned with Christmas decoration and a red scarf wrapped around his neck. He's holding a few items on his lap, while Delight walks next to him with a very proud expression on her face and a cart full of things. "We completed our list!", she announces. "Did you finish yours, Angel?"
"Ollie just grabbed our last items".
Bunzo climbs your back. You dont even react. "But I helped!"
"Heck yeah, you did", a well-deserved head scratch for him. Bunzo stims in satisfaction, much to Ollie's disdain. "Alright, kiddos, guess this is everything on our part. Any news on Marie's group?"
"Last time I saw her, she and Poppy were debating on which pears were looking the best...", Dogday's voice tone is enough to tell you everything you needed to know: The perfectionists are doing their thing. "... They all looked the same to me..."
Still, you chuckle a bit. "Looks like they want everything to go well for our first Christmas together, eh?"
And indeed, they were.
-
Grabbing the girls away from their perfection crisis was sure a moment, but in the end, you are all able to leave the grocery store after challenging the final boss (read: The waiting line). The van becomes full of bags, and for a moment you're a bit scared y'all wouldn't fit, but years of playing Tetris have sure done a good job to you.
Together with the kids, you head back home. Miguel and Amy, wonderful babysitters as ever, are out in the backyard with the mini toys as Catnap looks over them. Your brother smiles when he sees you, and you feel very, very happy that he and Amy didn't have to deal with the kids trying to burn the house down again.
Bobby watches from her chair as you, Marie, Delight and Kissy put the groceries away. "Is that... All for Christmas?", she asks, confused.
"Heck yeah", you nod. "Christmas is for eating a ton of stuff, Bobs. Gotta go all out now that we have 87 of you!"
"But...", she bites her bead necklace. "... All of that for one day?"
"To be fair, we normally can't eat it all in one day. We cook a ton and it can last for a few days! And then after that, it's New Year's eve, and off we go to eat a ton of stuff again".
"Woah...", her eyes are shining. "A-and the cookies?"
"You're going to be the one helping me bake them".
"Yaay!"
-
You stare at the pile of gifts you got the kids. It's... A lot, and you're not even counting the stuff people donated to them. You're lucky Miguel and your parents accepted giving up their garages to fit it all in. A surprise is still a surprise, even if the kids don't believe in Santa.
Your mom is excitedly chatting with Dogday, teaching him how to crochet a scarf. Crafty listens closely, excited. When the three of you eventually have to leave that house, the kids completely oblivious to the gift plan. "Y... Y-your mom is really nice, Angel", the unicorn mutters, staring at the ground. "Really nice..."
"Don't be weirded out, Crafty. She loves all of you, like a grandma would".
"But she's not our grandma..."
"Well, f'course not, she's my mom and YOUR grandma".
"That's not what I meant...", but she's smiling, so the joke worked. "Uh...?"
"Excuse me!"
The three of you stop when a man pops up. He's probably in his mid 30s, if not maybe late 30s. You cross your arms, noticing a notebook he's carrying around. "Yes?"
"Are you the Angel from the PlayCo. Case?"
You eye the kids, annoyed, and they eye you back, also annoyed. "Yes".
"Oh, that's wonderful to hear! You see, I'm a-"
"Reporter?"
"Oh?", he seems surprised. "Yes, yes! I have been meaning to talk to you, miss, about what you plan to do with them for this holiday season. You see..."
"Nah", you walk past him. "Not interested in exposing them more during their first normal Christmas of their lives. Goodbye".
-
Christmas eve is chaotic.
Huggy wakes you up at 5 in the morning, too agitated to go back to bed. You end up being used as a plushie by him as the others sleep, the house being too crammed with living toys for you to have the luxury of proceeding with your day. When most of them awaken, you tell them about the plan.
You have to use the van a few times, but by the end of things, you're able to bring all the kids to your parents' house. After some time, they all organize in small teams in order to "help" with the very important jobs they were given. Huggy, Kissy, PJ, Boxy and Bunzo, being the youngest of them, are tasked with taking care of the snow (read: playing outside), while most of the minis don't need to be coerced into having fun.
Poppy and you get stuck in the kitchen. Your father is helping Marie with making some of the many dishes, and Bobby, Crafty and many minis are having the time of their lives with baking cookies. Catnap sits outside, "guarding" you all. Dogday goes to check on him from time to time as he tries helping you with making some good Christmas soup.
Piggy ends up helping Marie the moment she comes back from sulking outside. She's shy, but Marie's grumpiness with only having one harm is enough for her to try to help. Not that she can do much without her hands, but Delight makes a "hook" with some textiles laying around so Piggy can at least hold a spoon by herself. The three girls and your dad talk nonstop, and you and Poppy try your best to not laugh at them.
Bubba seems grumpy for not being able to do much. Despite how well the toys heal from their wounds, Bubba is a special case. A very special one. So he watches, and ask questions, while Dogday runs from place to place trying to organize the house and the extra decorations the kids insisted on buying.
Hoppy and Kickin are having their third argument of the day as they try to make pastéis. Never have you ever ate a pastel for Christmas, but the kids loved them and you didn't want to force them to follow any traditions. Ollie is merely going from place to place, helping everyone a little bit and pretending he isn't excited about it all. Eventually, your aunts and uncles pop up, and the chaos bubble pops.
They overflow you with questions, of course, but they also dote on the kids a lot, so you accept answering some things. Nando pops up right behind you, and you jump before rolling your eyes. "Fuck off, you idiot, I'm cooking", you growl.
"Parent of 87 kids and still using the same foul language", your cousin rolls his eyes at you. "Nice to see you too, dipshit".
Poppy, who's busy cutting things for you, seems curious. "Hello, sir!", she nods at him. "I'm Poppy. It's a pleasure to meet you!"
"Thought you were bigger", he jokes, and you hit him with your elbow. "Hi, Poppy. Name's Nando. I'm your dad's cousin, nice to meet you. Good to know at least someone has manners..."
"Cut it off, Nando", Miguel FINALLY pops up, snow on his hair. "Leave them alone".
"Them who?"
"My kids", you reply, smiling. "You're bothering them".
"I'm not doing anything to them!"
Another elbow hit. Poppy chuckles, understanding the situation.
-
More and more questions arise for the kids. You avoid some, the kids avoid others, and some of them have answers. The 87 toys become the theme for the Christmas eve, and when night arrives, you help everyone dress up for the occasion, sweaters and silly hats for all of them, no exceptions.
Miguel's oldest kid helps you so, so much through all of this. She's pampering her new friends, of course, while her baby sister is catching everyone's attention, including Catnap, who cannot stop staring at her. She tries grabbing his ears, and, strangely, he allows it.
Your mom takes pictures of everyone. Literally everyone, no exceptions, including one of the whole family, which had to be taken outside. When you all finally sit down to eat, many of the toys try to show off how they can finally sort of use forks and knives now. Kickin and Hoppy annoy each other to the point you have to tell them to cut it off, and Amy giggles, saying they remind her of Miguel and you.
"Really?", Kickin asks, smiling. "Didn't know that guy over there was like that".
"I'm not", you reply.
"You are", your parents, Miguel AND Amy cut you off. You shake your head. Humiliated by your own family, it seems.
Gift giving is equally chaotic. First, the human part of the fam opens their gifts. Then you open the garage's doors, and the kids all seem so, so surprised. It's... Cute, almost, to see the way they all react, and how much they help each other grab and open their gift wrappings. Dogday, especially.
Of course, not all the presents are opened here. Instead, during the following day, you put everything back at your own house before going back to your parents' to grab the kiddos.
They're happy. Surprised, yes, but extremely happy, and this is what matters most to you.
... Despite all the plushies they obtained, however, they still insist on using you as one when they have to go to sleep again.
34 notes · View notes
gabrielleyueerrrrr · 1 day ago
Text
Rain Lilies - AVA/M
Word count: 2,165
CW/TW: - Canonical character death, if you survived AVA 11, you can survive this :)
Characters: Victim, Mitsi, Agent
Relationships: VictimxMitsi, Victim&Mitsi, Victim&Agent
Addtional tags: It gets better before it gets worse, Victim has speech impediment, Mitsi my beloved is trying her best
Summary: Mitsi and Victim grow some flowers.
»»———— ❋ ————-««
A brown paper bag rested on the table, slumped slightly under the weight of its contents. Inside it were small, teardrop-shaped bulbs, their surfaces covered in delicate, dry papery layers.
Victim frowned at it. “M-Mitsi... d-did you double-check our g-grocery list? We d-don’t need this m-many... sh-shallots, do we?”
The familiar stammer clawed its way out of him, and frustration curled tight in his chest. He should have learnt to speak properly by now-
“Hmm?” Mitsi’s head appeared from the kitchen, her ponytail swaying as she turned toward him. She followed his gaze to the bag, then broke into a delighted giggle. “Oh, Vicky, no! These aren’t shallots—they’re flower bulbs!”
Victim blinked. “Fl-flower bulbs?”
“Yep! The auntie at the flower shop gave them to me for free, as a thank-you gift for fixing her radio.” Mitsi hopped over and reached for Victim’s hands, her slender fingers wrapping warmly around his. Victim stiffened, but she didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she didn’t care. “I thought we could plant them in the front yard! Imagine—a little garden of our own. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” Her eyes sparkled, bright with excitement. 
How she can find joy in every little thing around them, Victim could never understand.
Victim tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “W-why would you want to do th-that?” he asked, his voice slow, hesitant. “It’s not like they c-can b-be eaten... or, or turned into s-something useful.” He flicked his gaze to Mitsi’s face, bracing for the impatience or annoyance he’d come to expect from others. But all he found was her usual gentle smile, as if he hadn’t stumbled over every word.
"B-but if you like, like flowers, we c-can always buy some..." His voice grew smaller and smaller.
“Well, sure,” Mitsi said breezily, giving his hands a small squeeze. “But what’s the fun in that?”
“I d-don’t see the ap-appeal in handling dirt all, all day.” Victim muttered.
Her smile widened, and she leaned closer, a playful glint in her eyes. “But have you ever tried gardening before?”
“…N-no?”
“Then how do you know it’s not fun?”
“I…” Victim opened his mouth to argue, but no words came. With a reluctant sigh, he nodded, defeated.
Mitsi laughed, the sound light and clear, like the tinkling of silver bells. “Come on, Vicky! I know you’ll love it.”
»»———— ❋ ————-««
“Y-you know I can just…use my tools to make a h-hedge, right? Much q-quicker and sturdier.” Victim crossed his arms, glancing down at his partner, tone unimpressed. Mitsi sat cross-legged on the ground, humming a cheerful tune as she stitched together pieces of branches with straws.
“Yes, but I want to do it this way,” she replied, testing the durability of her handiwork before driving it firmly into the dirt.
Victim sighed and leaned his full weight against the makeshift hedge, pressing it deeper into the soil. “I d-don't know why you insist on doing e-everything by h-hand,” he said, his voice breathless from the effort.
“Well…” Mitsi paused to wipe the sweat beading on her forehead. “It feels like cheating to use quick and easy solutions for something like building a garden. Kind of takes away the magic, don’t you think?”
Victim shook his head, watching as she moved on to another piece. “I d-don’t think I get it, but…” He crouched beside her, meeting her expectant gaze. “Show me how you w-want it d-done.”
Remove all the grass and weeds.
Loosen the soil to a depth of 2-3 inches.
Plant the bulbs 2-3 inches deep, with the pointed end facing up.
Water the bulbs thoroughly.
Finally, add a layer of mulch on top of the soil.
By the time they finished, the sun was setting, casting their small garden in a honey-colored glow.
The two of them collapsed onto the ground, shoulder to shoulder, panting as they admired their work in silence. The soft chirping of crickets filled the air, and the tiny patch of earth in front of them looks tidy and full of promise.
"Oh, Vicky, hold still-" 
“Hm?” Victim turned, only to feel Mitsi’s fingers brush against his cheek, wiping away a smudge of dirt.
“There.” She smiled, her eyes reflecting the warm hues of the alpenglow. For a moment, she looked at him like she’d uncovered some hidden treasure.
And although every muscle in his body ached with exhaustion, and his back was sticky with sweat, Victim thought that maybe, gardening wasn’t so bad after all.
»»———— ❋ ————-««
For the next few weeks, their garden thrived. Baby-green shoots emerged first, sharp as needles yet tender as silk. The shoots grew, unfurling slender, elegant leaves that swayed gently in the breeze. Two months after planting, small, tightly bundled buds began to form at the tips of the stems. Despite himself, Victim often found his gaze drawn to the window, secretly hoping to catch their first bloom unfurling under the sunlight.
Spring faded, its warm, floral breezes giving way to the heavy stillness of summer. The days grew hotter, quieter, as though the world itself were holding its breath.
Then, without warning, the storm struck.
The sky turned a bruised gray, and rain fell in relentless, bullet-like drops that battered the earth. Their little house shuddered under the force of the wind and rain, its wooden walls groaning like an old ship at sea.
Victim paced fretfully back and forth in front of the window, his gaze fixed on the blurred outlines of the garden. The rain fell too hard, too fast, obscuring everything. The thought of their flowers—exposed, their delicate leaves tearing and stems snapping under the storm—made his chest tighten.
“Vicky, what’s wrong?” Mitsi’s hand rested lightly on his shoulder, but this time, her touch didn’t calm him. He shrugged her hand off, his stammer spilling out faster than usual.
“I-it’s all my f-fault,” he cradled his head, shaking it in frustration. “T-the flowers… I-I should’ve… s-set up a canopy, or… or s-something. I-I should’ve kn-known this w-would happen.”
“Oh, Vicky…” Mitsi cupped his face, her hands firm yet gentle as she lifted his head to meet her steady gaze. “It’s not your fault. No one could’ve seen this storm coming.”
“T-the flowers, they’re p-probably all r-ruined…”
“They’re not,” Mitsi said softly, her tone sure and unwavering. “Storms happen all the time in the wild. If wildflowers can survive, ours can too.”
“H-how can you…be so sure?” he asked, his gaze flickering between her eyes and the rain outside.
“I'm not,” she admitted with a small smile. “But I choose to believe.” 
Victim’s eyes widened. Mitsi wrapped her arms around him, she smelled of sunlight, dried wool, and machine oil. “Our flowers are strong, Vicky. Stronger than you think.”
He stayed still for a moment, then nodded slowly, leaning into the embrace. “…W-what should we do now?” he asked. 
“We eat lunch,” Mitsi said, her voice steady and comforting like a weighted blanket, “And we wait for the storm to pass.”
»»———— ❋ ————-««
The rain ended as abruptly as it had begun. The sky slowly lifted, a thin ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds to bathe the ground. Everything felt freshly washed, the world damp and drowsy. A great silence settled in, broken only by the soft drip of water falling from the roof tiles.
The front door swung open with a gust of wind, and Mitsi darted outside toward the garden, Victim following closely behind, clutching the back of her jacket. Their footsteps splashed through puddles, sending droplets scattering. A frog, startled by the sudden movement, leaped from the middle of the road and vanished into the tall grass.
But then Mitsi stopped, making Victim nearly bumping into her. Wordlessly, he slipped her jacket over her shoulders, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes, wide and bright, was fixed to the garden in front of her.
“Look!” She said in a hushed voice.
Victim took a small step to the side, his breath catching as he mentally braced himself for the worst.
“Ah…” was all he could manage.
Countless newly bloomed flowers peeked out from a sea of green leaves. Dew drops rested lazily on their delicate petals, reflecting the sunlight with a mischievous glint. When the wind passed through, they twinkled like stars—white, pink, and yellow. “Hello, hello!” they seemed to sing, "Hello, hello!"
“Rain lilies,” Mitsi whispered softly beside him, “They bloom after a storm.”
Victim’s hand found hers, his grip tight, “T-They made it,” he said, his voice trembling, a shaky laugh escaping him. “I can’t believe they made it.”
“No, Vicky!” Mitsi turned to hold both of Victim’s hands, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She looked at him then—more beautiful than he’d ever seen her—her face radiant with untamed joy. “We made it!”
With that, they spun in circles together, the cool, muddy earth squelching beneath their feet. Mitsi laughed a pure, contagious laugh, one that Victim would try to remember all his life. Their shoes were soaked, their trousers splattered with mud, but they couldn’t care any less.
And if a rainbow appeared above them, arching over their garden as though the heavens themselves were smiling down on them, well… that was just a bonus.
»»———— ❋ ————-««
“Sir, you need to rest.”
Victim didn’t respond. His fingers, stiff and numb, pressed the replay button again. The screen flickered to life, Agent’s memory recording lit up the dark room.
Fire, debris, the deafening screams. Mitsi running toward a citizen trapped under a collapsed wall. Mitsi struggling beneath the rubble while bombs of fire rain down upon her. Mitsi, swallowed by the explosion.
Three days after the destruction of Newgrounds, Victim sequestered himself in the memory machine room. He replayed the scene over and over, watching it until his eyes burned like acid, until his head felt ready to explode, until the diabolic face of the black hollowhead, Mitsi’s killer, was seared into his mind, his nightmares, his soul.
Agent crouched in front of him. Behind his sunglasses, his best friend’s eyes were bloodshot, full of pleading.
“Vic, please.” Agent’s voice shook, and Victim had a sudden image of him teetering on the edge of an abyss.
Slowly, Victim stood, his joints stiff and protesting. He trudged toward the office he and Mitsi had shared, feeling the weight of Agent’s gaze on his back, a ghost haunting his every step.
Inside, the office felt strangely large and hollow. Mitsi’s big armchair faced away from him, as though it would turn at any moment to reveal her—smiling, teasing him across the desk. “And where have you been, my second-in-command?”
A horrible, broken sound tore from his throat, he swallowed it, covering his face as he walked quickly to his own desk.
But it wasn’t empty like he expected.
A gift box, wrapped meticulously in grey ribbon, sat in the middle of the desk. His heart skipped a beat. He recognized the handwriting on the tag.
For Vicky.
His hand shook as he opened the gift box, careful not to damage it in the slightest. Inside lay a flower crown, its glossy green leaves shimmering faintly. Inlaid among them, were—
When the wind passed through, they twinkled like stars — white, pink, and yellow.
—rain lilies.
Tears blurred his vision as he held the crown against his chest, cradling it as if it were the last piece of his girl left behind. 
Beneath it, he found one last thing: a folded card. 
He opened it slowly, reverently, like it was made of butterfly wings.
To my dearest Vicky,
Happy 4th anniversary of Rocket Inc.! I’ve always wanted to give you something special for this day, and I know you’d probably prefer something practical, but please don’t be mad at me for this flower crown instead! It took me forever to make—the flowers keep falling out—but I hope you’ll still like it. :)
Do you remember our garden? The rain lilies we planted? They’re my favorite flowers, you know. And I think they’re perfect for you, because they always bloom after a storm. I’ve always thought of them as a symbol of new beginnings. No matter how wild the storm, the rain lilies still bloom—stronger, more beautiful than before.
When we first met, you were hurting, Vicky. You were lost in your own storms, troubled by things I couldn’t even begin to understand. But I saw you change, little by little, bit by bit, you grew stronger. More confident. Happier. It’s hard for you to see, but I saw it. Every day.
You’re like our rain lilies, Vicky. You’ve faced your storms, even when you thought you wouldn’t survive them. But here you are, blooming. And I’m so proud of you. So, so proud.
I hope this flower crown helps remind you of that strength, of everything you’ve already overcome. And whenever you feel like the storm is too much, just look at the rain lilies. They’ll be here, just like me.
I’ll always be with you.
Yours, M ♡
28 notes · View notes
cator99 · 3 months ago
Text
I always get detained at da border because PROFUNC never ended but basically I'm like if a targeted individual didn't even care
14 notes · View notes
sk3l3t0n444 · 11 months ago
Text
yk its kinda worrisome that i havent seen the host in a while
0 notes
obsesssedblerd · 5 months ago
Text
“Megumi!” You call your son in the living room, who’s sitting next to his father, Toji, on the couch watching the news. “Could you go grab your sister and tell her to put her studying on hold? Dinner’s almost done.” 
“Yeah, no problem,” Megumi says as he rises to his feet, putting his headphones around his neck and pulling his phone out of his hoodie pocket. “Oh, uh, Mom?” 
“Hm?” 
“Can Itadori spend the night after dinner?” He then looks over at Toji with a small scowl. “After Dad hides all of his assassin stuff?” 
“Hey, watch it,” Toji says.
You nod with a light smile. You loved having Yuuji Itadori over. He was a bright kid, and besides, he made Megumi relaxed and happy. “Of course. Go prepare the guest bed, yeah?” 
Megumi departs with a nod, then heads upstairs. From the living room, you hear Toji whistle. “Wow. Baby, looks like Spider-Man stopped that bank robbery.”
You look up from the dishes in the kitchen, then hum in delight when you catch what’s on the screen. It looked like small clips from the internet as the reporter gave details. The masked hero, wearing blue and red, swings, fights, and rescues hostages swiftly. “Incredible,” you say, then walk over to hand your husband a list of groceries. “Could you head to the store and grab these? I want to make sure that we have enough food for breakfast in the morning now that Yuuji will be staying the night.” 
Toji looks around to make sure that Megumi and Tsumiki aren’t present, then lowers his voice to a whisper. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Yuuji.” 
“Megumi has feelings for him. Yeah, I know.” 
“No- Not that. Amazing for them, and I think they’re adorable together, but,” Toji points over at the TV. “I think he’s Spider-Man.”
You blink, then burst into laughter as you head back into the kitchen. “Toji, what? Don’t be ridiculous. He’s only fifteen and very busy. You know how often he studies with Megumi.” 
“I’m serious,” he says as he follows you. “Think about it. Do you know how often Yuuji shows up with bruises or scratches?” 
You begin arranging plates on the dining room table. “Just like our son, the kid’s a fighter. I mean, his uncle Sukuna was a huge fighter before he passed away. Plus, he spends a lot of time with Satoru Gojo, and we know how he is. Also, doesn’t he have an older brother? Brothers fight.” 
“True, but just walk with me for a second.” You sigh and look up to see Toji waving his hands animatedly as he explained. “Do you remember when we all went to the parade on New Years together, and that giant robot appeared?” 
“Yes, it was all everyone could talk about for days.” 
“Uh-huh.” He then points at you. “Do you also remember how Yuuji was gone when Spider-Man appeared at the scene?” 
You stare at him blankly. “...Toji, he went to the bathroom before everything happened,” you remind him. “I’m certain that he got lost in the crowd when everyone started running.”
Toji groans. “You don’t believe me. Baby, I’m telling you—He’s Spider-Man. I can’t prove it now, but I will eventually.” 
You sigh again and cross your arms. “Okay, so, let’s say he was. What would you do?” 
“Well, I mean…” Toji mutters, then sheepishly rubs the back of his head as he quietly chuckles. “I dunno, give him a high-five? Worry about Megumi?” 
“Trust me, Toji. The only people with secret identities here are you and I.” You reach over and grab a stack of napkins. “By the way, Megumi had a point earlier. Be more careful about where you’re leaving weapons. One of Tsumiki’s friends nearly saw one not too long ago.” 
He winces. “Sorry.” 
“You’re fine.” You push to your tip toes and gently kiss him. “No job tonight, right? I know I don’t have one.” 
“Nope. Once I get those groceries, I’m all free.” He grabs the list from you, then reaches towards you to lovingly push a loose strand of hair away from your face. “I’ll be back soon.” When he leaves through the back door, the front doorbell rings. 
You hear Megumi rush down the stairs. “I got it,” he tells you as he passes you. When the door opens, Yuuji Itadori waves at you with his usual grin. “Hi, Mrs. Fushiguro!”
“Hi, Yuuji. What happened to your face?” You ask. His lip is slightly busted, and there’s a bruise beginning to form on his jaw. Yuuji laughs sheepishly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his yellow hoodie. “Oh, uh, me and Okkotsu fought again. Gojo-sensei had to pull us apart.” 
Megumi rolls his eyes. “I swear, you’re always fighting.”
“Aw, come on, Megumi,” Yuuji teases with a smirk as he crosses his arms. “You’re just as bad. I heard about what happened a few days ago.”
Your son’s cheeks dust with pink, and he clears his throat. “Yeah, whatever. You need to get cleaned up before dinner. Come on, there’s a first-aid kit in the bathroom.” 
Megumi goes upstairs, and Yuuji follows close behind him. You’re about to tell Yuuji that the flap of his backpack is slightly unzipped, but the words get stuck in your throat when you catch the tiniest hint of the red and blue suit. You only see it for a split-second before Yuuji swings his backpack around, excitedly telling Megumi about a new action figure he wants to get for his birthday.
Your eyes widen. Holy shit. 
-----
a/n: lol i can't believe I wrote this. spidey yuuji au, you'll always be loved by me <3
1K notes · View notes
strawbabycowboy · 2 years ago
Text
i feel like im going crazy . im abt to start working full 40 hr weeks and my sister is not working anything rlly close to that. and yet i still do the brunt of the housework .
#it’s like i can see she’s trying#but it’s like she half asses everything?#and it’s beyond frustrating#she takes days to do the dishes#she’ll start laundry but won’t finish it#she vacuums but ONLY the living room when the vacuum can do every room - including bathroom and kitchenn(which I do when I vacuum)#she doesn’t cook bc the agreement is i cook and she’s Supposed to do dishes#she rarely helps make a grocery list and I’ve noticed recently#she only makes lists for herself. she rarely looks for what the HOUSEHOLD needs so it’s always little shit and never like. Actual Groceries#which. I end up paying for all the groceries which means I don’t have any money for me to spend on what i want bc i have to make sure#i have money to get the house groceries when we need it (which is why im stressed I spent so much money this weekend)#idk im like .#today she’s upset me bc we went to market and came home#and she’s telling me to start laundry so she can shower when it’s done#and there’s Still dishes in the sink#she left her flower trash on the table#she didn’t put away her foods from the market I did it for her#im trying to make sure all the laundry is sorted right#she’s been im her room watching HOCKEY#like .#she’s like a fucking guy when it comes to sports#but only for hockey#like ma’am idc about your game - i care about the dishes being done and laundry getting finished and house getting cleaned#i NEED her to get a job like a real one that pays her so she can save money and move#however it’s more likely I’ll move out first .#anyway that’s my rant! Since i don’t have friends and my mom is unavailable !#i want to rip my hair out and bash my head against a wall at the same time#personal
0 notes
cherie-doll · 1 month ago
Note
Hellu, could you maybe do a drabble or hc or whatever you feel comfortable with, of the cod men reacting to reader being in a car crash??
(I was just in a car crash, my head hurts, I’m coping 💀)
If not then that’s okay ❤️❤️
my goodness, are you okay dear?? ૮ ㅇㅁㅇ ྀིა
𓏲 Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto
🝮 Price finally got some downtime to rest and catch up on his sleep debt at home. You insisted he stay home while you go to the grocery store only a few blocks away. Now imagine how his body tenses and he's up from the recliner in a heartbeat the moment he receives the phone call about your accident. He's supposed to drop the tense and hard face off while he's at home with you but this is worse. He's trying to keep calm on the surface but a can of worries within, just wanting to spill out. Thankfully, the accident didn't result in fatalities nor major injuries. He's holding you and checking you all over, listening to everything you're saying. Does something hurt? Feel dizzy? Need water? He's taking you right home, don't worry about the wrecked car.
🝮 Simon's mood when he picks up the phone initially is that he's annoyed, his answering "yes?" is a little sharp because you had just had a small argument over him once again not paying attention to the list of items you insisted he take when grocery shopping but didn't. So now you had to pause everything and go get the thing yourself, which means he'd have to wait at least another hour before he could eat dinner. Your voice over the phone was weak and scared, your frail voice that barely answered because your mind was all over the place and fading. You couldn't think straight after the crash. Simon dropped everything and staying on call with you made it faster than the cops would've. He carried you out of the car and cradled your body in his arms even in the ambulance, all the while muttering lowly how reckless you could be and how stupid and idiotic he was for letting you drive while mad. He swears he'd never let it happen again.
🝮 Johnny wasn't expecting you to answer with "was in a car crash" to "how was your day?" Like why are you telling him just now that you're arriving home. He gets off the couch he's by your side in an instant. Why didn't you call him? Because you thought it was nothing big? He almost thinks you're bluffing, why he can't help but assume the worst or imagine a terrible accident. You're sitting down this instant and- did you go to the hospital? And if you did he's surprised they just let you walk out. You argue back that you barely got a bruise but he insists you're going again and getting an examination done just in case. You have to tell him these things else he'll have a hard time letting you go out alone again.
🝮 The only thing Kyle knew was that you'd be hanging out with friends. And that's how it was supposed to be, he could expect you to come home late in the evening or maybe nearing night. But the clock marked the midnight hour and you hadn't walked through the front door yet; very unusual of you. He paced the living room from one wall to the other, he had the right to be worried so he wasn't being a controlling nor clingy partner if he just wanted to know where you were past midnight. The worry only increased when he called and it went straight to voicemail. Okay, maybe your phone died. And he kept trying to come up with plausible reasons as to why you weren't home yet when the bell rang and he threw the door open to a distressed looking friend of yours explaining the car accident you had been caught up in. You were conscious when taken away but in pain, your friend was still explaining this when Kyle grabbed his shoes and was already walking to the driveway.
🝮 Roach and you frequented bars pretty often and usually took a cab home. You hadn't had more than one drink however and decided to drive home while he dozed off in the backseat. He woke up to the sound of tires screeching and before he could make out what was happening his body was jerked and thrown forward. Groaning and rubbing his neck he called your name only for you to weakly respond. A soft gasp left his lips followed by his fingers reaching out to the bleeding gash, blood staining his fingertips. When he called emergency services and had you taken to the hospital, the cops has questioned how the accident happened and he was ready to take the blame on insisting you drive despite both having consumed alcohol. He knew there wasn't any other believable lie he could sputter, surely the one drink you'd had would show up on the tests.
🝮 Alejandro didn't think it'd ever happen to you. An accident bad enough that you had to be taken to the hospital? He's there as fast as he possibly could get there. He ignores the nurses who are trying to tell him that you're okay for the most part, just a little shaken. But he's checking you all over and almost loses it when he sees a bruise, demanding for the doctor. It takes you forcibly holding him back and holding his head so he can meet your eyes and see that you're fine, you're not in severe pain. From now on you're not driving anywhere alone because he doesn't another scare like that to happen again.
🝮 Rudy is worried sick when you insisted on driving the last stretch of the way home, at night too. Your driving skills are passable during the day but at night it can be difficult to tell from the high beams of other car's lights flashing at you. When you tried braking at a stop sign you saw last minute, due to the ice already forming on the road the car didn't come to a complete stop and nearly skid off the road. His hand instinctively reaches across to hold against your body, making sure you don't fly forward despite you having the seatbelt on. It's just instinct for him to protect you in every situation. He gets off, running over to your side and the time doesn't matter anymore. He'll sit out on the hood of the car however long you need to recover from the close call until you're ready to go back home. Except he's not letting you drive.
🝮 Phillip was waiting at a second location for you to come pick him up after his car was getting fixed for something. He wouldn't have bothered you but the repair shop was half an hour drive away, something was just bound to happen. And he doesn't realize this because his mind is so preoccupied with the petty shop owner over what was the problem with his truck that when his phone rings and he picks up he sounds a little mad, not at you though. Soon he hears a dispatcher's voice instead of yours his mind goes to the worst place. Don't know where he gets the car from but he's speeding down the highway praying that you're fine and he gets to you. But he gets there and sees you sitting on a strip of grass off to the side of the mess and holding an ice pack to your head.
🝮 Makarov is hiring a chauffeur to drive you everywhere and anywhere you need from here on out and finding out who was the idiot who rammed into the back of your car while at a stoplight. He can't believe you didn't ask the other driver for their information, doesn't matter though, he'll get the information later. Maybe you should quit going out altogether, no? Okay it was worth a try, whatever you want. From now on you have to promise to not ever get into an accident ever again. "How am I supposed to control tha-"
🝮 Keegan didn't freak out after you told him you just veered off the main road and were now stuck in some rundown road. He calmly gathered whatever tools he thought he might need and started his truck. The scene he encounters when he arrives is somewhat off, you're waving him over, sitting on the hood of your car with a sheepish smile. He walks around the car and finds the dent on the side and back of the car. And before he can ask what the hell happened- shit, you're bleeding? You're going to have to start from the beginning if you don't want him ignoring your requests and taking you to the emergency room instead.
🝮 König left the car parked with you waiting for him in the passenger seat, and when he came back he sees his car in pieces, absolutely destroyed from a car speeding off the road and ramming into the side. He panics, tries to pry the door open to get to you, even breaks a window before you're tapping him from behind. "I'm right here" He turns around, lifts you off the ground and lets out a sigh of relief. He seriously thought he would have to search through the wrecked car for you. How had you even gotten out? You saw stray cat and got out before the car had been hit. But now you have to be the one worrying over König's hand and forearm which has glass embedded.
🝮 Horangi blames himself for the car crash. He wanted to teach you to drift because you'd seen how he does it and you're eager to nail it too. Things escalate rather quickly and it's no longer a smooth Saturday drive when you loose control and drive off the road, the tires slipping onto the grass and slamming sideways into a tree. He's holding your head, not knowing if you're got knocked out unconscious or not, but his mind doesn't fully register the bigger dent is on the rear doors not the driver nor passenger side. With one hand he's holding your head to his chest, his other shaky hand attempting to dial emergency services, feeling faint himself before you come to and look around confused. He's grabbing your face in his hands looking you all over making sure you didn't receive a single bruise.
🝮 You assumed Nikto would be cross if he saw the state his car was in. He was hesitant to let you drive out alone knowing you still went a little hard on your turns and it had been raining frequently. The moment he arrives, you're fixed on his eyes, carefully determining whether he's already thought of what he'd do to you the moment he saw the disaster his car was. But you're surprised and speechless when he strides over to you, silently looks you over, barely assesses the car and just picks you up. "Aren't you mad?" "About what?" "Your car!" And he barely glances at it, shrugs and drives you home.
609 notes · View notes
helaintoloki · 4 months ago
Note
the other Hargreeves siblings being absolutely teary-eyed on the day of y/n and Five’s wedding. they like to think of her as an adopted member of the family, because she’s gone through so much with them, gotten so close to death in multiple occasions while trying to save them. after everything, they never thought to see her live out the happy life she deserve, much less getting married to Five.
a/n: i am a sucker for found family tropes and wedding pieces so this was fun for me to write
warnings: none i think ? mostly fluff
Tumblr media
Your stomach feels as if it’s tied into a million knots, and you can’t bring yourself to even touch the plate of fruit Klaus had fetched for you to nibble on as you got ready for the big day. Allison works diligently to perfect your look despite her insistence that you should have just let her hire a professional to get the job done, but you were adamant about keeping everything as simple as possible. Neither you nor Five wanted some big extravagant mess when it came to your ceremony, and if it had been up to you both you would have just settled for a courthouse marriage, but his family wouldn’t have it. You were finally becoming an official Hargreeves, and they deemed it necessary to celebrate with a proper wedding and reception despite the fact that there really would only be about ten guests at most.
You met Five in the apocalyptic ruins of the world while scavenging for food. Despite everyone you knew and cared about perishing in the gale of fire that blanketed the earth, you had miraculously survived. Call it pure luck for being at the right place at the right time, but you had been searching for a flashlight in your underground basement when the moon had been struck, and the reinforced steel structure of the room had kept you from suffering the same fate as everyone around you.
Neither of you trusted each other in the beginning, but you both were smart enough to realize that sticking together was necessary for your survival, and so you put aside your differences to travel the apocalyptic wasteland together. That’s not to say there weren’t times when you got on each others nerves or wanted to strangle him with your bare hands, but with time your partnership evolved into an actual friendship, and perhaps it could have evolved into more if not for the constant distractions that arose during your fight for survival.
Allison accidentally poking your eye with a mascara wand interrupts your moment of reminiscing, and she merely gives you an apologetic smile when you shoot her a look of annoyance in return.
“I told you we should have hired a professional,” she reminds you matter of factly only for you to lightly swat her hand away.
“And I told you I wanted to go down to the courthouse and pick up a sheet cake at the grocery store,” you counter with a raised brow. Sensing defeat, Allison relents with a small sigh and takes a step back to look at her masterpiece.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just our family doesn’t get to do these sorts of things very often, and it’s not every day I get a new sister.”
Your shoulders slump guilty at her admission, and you find yourself now feeling less combative against her than you initially were. Though you mentally are in your 50’s and no longer see a need to have a big wedding to marry a man you’ve known for basically your whole life, you still physically look like a young bride, so it’s only natural for Allison and the rest of Five’s siblings to want to treat you as such. From what Five has told you along with the stories that have been recounted in your presence, their lives have always been less than normal. You of all people can relate to that- growing up in an apocalypse, becoming a glorified secretary for a time-ordinance bureau while your only friend is out on assignments, risking your life to save the world, ending multiple apocalypses. The list could go on forever. They’re only trying to experience normal family milestones, so who are you to get in the way of that.
“No, I’m sorry,” you relent with a remorseful sigh. “I know you’re just trying to be nice, and I’m grateful for how quickly you and your siblings have welcomed me into the family despite how unconventional this all is. I really appreciate it.”
“Good, I’m glad you see it my way,” Allison teases playfully before finishing up the final touches on her masterpiece.
“Knock, knock,” Klaus singsongs from outside your dressing room before letting himself in. Proudly holding up the plastic wrap bag from its hanger, he announces, “Here I am with the dress, and as promised, nothing happened to it under my watch.”
“Thank you, Klaus,” you smile gratefully only for him to return the gesture with an affectionate pinch of your cheek.
“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I’m just so excited to finally have a little sister!”
“You know I’m technically older than you right?” You retort with a raised brow only for him to press a finger to your lips.
“Shh, don’t ruin this for me,” he gently corrects you before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You don’t miss the way his eyes begin to water at the sight of you with your hair and makeup done, but you’re kind enough not to point it out. Klaus had been the easiest of Five’s siblings to warm up to, always treating you like one of his own and roping you into his mischief despite your fiancé’s protests. The Seance couldn’t even count on one hand how many times you had been there to lend a shoulder for him to cry on when his addiction became too much or offer a supportive hand when his siblings had been less than eager to do so. He adored you, and he could nearly burst with pride at finally being able to call himself your brother.
“Alright, we have thirty minutes left to get you into that dress and down that isle,” Allison announces with a determined clap of her hands before snatching the dress from Klaus. “Are you ready to officially become Mrs. Hargreeves?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you announce with a resigned sigh before immediately being pulled every which way by the two siblings to finish your ensamble.
You can’t wait to get this over with.
~~~
“You nervous?” Viktor whispers with a gentle nudge to Five’s side. Quiet chatter drifts through the air as the handful of guests that are present make conversation to pass the time before the ceremony begins. Neither of you exactly have big families; Five has only ever had his siblings, and your family isn’t exactly supportive of your choice of groom. It’s an intimate affair, but you both prefer it that way.
“Hardly,” he scoffs indignantly, though his need to readjust his tie for the millionth time says otherwise. Five knows that this probably should have happened sooner and promoting you from his partner to his wife has been long overdue. He was honestly surprised you had said yes when he’d finally bit the bullet and asked the question. He loved you, cared for you in a way he never thought possible and in a way that honestly wasn’t quite like him. But you were different, and he hadn’t risked it all trying to end multiple apocalypses just to not marry you once the world was finally safe.
“I’m glad you’re happy, we all are,” his brother notes with a kind smile. “She’s good for you, and she’ll be a good addition to the family.”
Five can’t argue with that. It honestly pains him to think about just how many times you’ve thrown your own life on the line for not just him but his siblings as well. You’ve been there for them even when it wasn’t your responsibility, when they technically weren’t your family yet, even when Five himself wasn’t the best brother to them all. While Five could at times be brash or crude, you were patient and understanding, and this balance helped make their team stronger. You’d make a fine Hargreeves; he wouldn’t be standing here today if that weren’t the case.
Behind the wooden double doors you nervously readjust your veil as you wait for your cue to enter the room. Diego holds your bouquet patiently on your left while Luther fluffs out the skirt of your dress for you on your right. Having no real family present for your big day, you were left without anyone to give you away to your new husband. Diego and Luther had both been eager to throw themselves at the chance to be at your side down the aisle, constantly at each other’s necks arguing over who deserved the right more. Of course, as the bride it was you who got the final say, and the choice couldn’t have been more obvious. You picked them both.
Both men had been put through a lot by your fiancé, from having to carry his drunken form out of a library to dealing with his fits of rage at their inability to meet his deadlines for important tasks, but they had always been kind to you despite the unorthodox nature of your relationship with their brother. Luther had taken several bullets for you before, and Diego hadn’t shied away from being a supportive shoulder to cry on whenever you and Five couldn’t see eye-to-eye. It would feel wrong not to have them both by your side, and they were honored.
“You scared?” Diego questions after noticing your tight grip on his bicep when the music begins. He has to hold back a wince from the way your manicured nails dig into his arm and distracts himself by handing you your bouquet.
“A little,” you answer honestly, harshly swallowing down your nerves when Luther opens the doors for you to walk through.
“You’ve got this,” Diego encourages after pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “If anyone is brave enough to marry my brother, it’s you.”
“Brave or maybe a little insane,” Luther adds under his breath.
You can’t help the small huff of air that pushes past your lips in response to his quip, but you’re given no time to respond as your soon-to-be brother-in-laws escort you to your awaiting husband.
No one can deny how absolutely breath taking you look in your elegantly simple wedding gown, your smile nervous as you make your way towards Five who looks so handsome in his perfectly tailored suit. All day you’ve wanted nothing more than to see him, but now that you’re here you find yourself full of nerves and anxiety.
Luther and Diego give you away at the end of the isle (not without sternly warning Five to take good care of their new sister), and you finally find yourself face-to-face with the man you’ve loved for years.
“You ready for this?” He whispers under his breath as Viktor begins his officiant speech, subtly reaching for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.
“This won’t be the worst thing we’ve done together,” you note cheekily with a shrug as you hide your smile behind your bouquet, and Five can’t argue with that.
Though his siblings have been better at showing their excitement for this day than you or Five combined, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy to finally be marrying the boy who had been by your side through thick and thin, good and bad, and life and death. Perhaps your love story was a bit unconventional, but unconventionality is a Hargreeves speciality.
You’re going to fit right in.
650 notes · View notes
arieslost · 10 months ago
Text
home to you | op81
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
oscar piastri x fem!reader
summary: oscar does what he should’ve done a long time ago.
word count: 2,978
warnings: healing sunburn right at the beginning, a touch of angst
masterlist — join my tag list here!
this is a PART TWO! read part one here :)
© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.
Tumblr media
Your sunburn is peeling.
Oscar’s been watching you absentmindedly pick at it for the last ten minutes as you recount your day to him. He’s paying attention to what you’re saying, of course, but now he’s worried that you might accidentally hurt yourself.
“Stop doing that,” he says when you pause to catch your breath, reaching for his phone as if he could put his hand through and stop you himself.
“What?” You frown, and then look at your shoulder. “Oh, right. It’s weirdly satisfying though.”
“This is why you can’t go to the beach by yourself.” Oscar sighs. “You never put on enough sunscreen.”
“I know,” you reply quietly.
As much as both of you have tried, neither of you can help the awkward undertones that seep into every silence you share now. Oscar knows you love him, and you know that he doesn’t feel the same way.
You think he doesn’t feel the same way.
When he saw that look on your face that morning in the kitchen, it reminded him of the way he stared at you on prom night. Oscar didn’t get asked to the senior prom, but you did, and you had turned the offer down. Oscar asked you why, and you told him that you only wanted to go with him, otherwise you weren’t going. You’d dragged him back and forth from your table to the dance floor all night long, and it all would’ve faded into the mush of fleeting high school memories if your favorite song hadn’t come on. Oscar remembers every detail of how your eyes lit up, how you cried, “I love this song!” even though he knew you did, and how you’d grabbed his hands and started dancing with a refreshed energy. He felt like time had stopped and his world revolved around you, and it felt right.
So yeah, he knew the moment you gave him that look that not only did he still love you, but you finally, finally felt the same way. And, for the second time, he’d epically fucked it up.
He often wishes that he could go back and confess to you like he wanted to that night. You’d stayed over because you were too tired to drive home. You were both single. It was the perfect time. But now it’s four years later and he’s sitting in the hotel bathroom on the other side of the world, his girlfriend asleep in the hotel bed, and you on the other end of his phone screen picking at your sunburn that he could’ve prevented had he spent more time with you on vacation.
“You doing okay, Osc?” You ask, pulling on a hoodie of his that you stole from him before he left for his very first F1 race. “Aside from the races, I mean. I know you’re doing great with those.”
“Yeah, I’m alright.” The words come out with practiced ease. “I’d rather hear about how you’re doing though.” I miss you like you wouldn’t believe.
“I think I’ve told you everything like five times now,” you giggle. “I could tell you about the guy that came up to me in the grocery store this afternoon and took a painstakingly long time to ask for my number, but that’s not a long story.”
Oscar’s heart stops. “What?” He replies, teeth gritted, before he clears his throat and lightens his tone. “I mean, what?”
“Yeah, it was kind of strange. He started the conversation by asking me how you were doing, obviously, because you’re so cool and famous-” Oscar flips you off when you roll your eyes, and you laugh. “Anyway, I guess that was his icebreaker, because then he just abruptly segued into grilling me right there in the cereal aisle about my life and how he ‘couldn’t believe he’d never seen me before.’” You recount dramatically. “I’m telling you, Osc, it was nonstop cheesy line after cheesy line. I felt so bad for him I let him have my number.”
“So, he used me as an in and then harassed you until you gave him your number?”
You nod slowly. “Pretty much.”
“You better not actually be considering going out with this guy.” Oscar scoffs.
“Oh, no, I’m not!” You rush to clarify, and he can see a faint blush rising on your cheeks. “I mean, it’s not like I’m waiting for anyone-anything. He was just weird. I only gave him my number so he’d leave me alone… I blocked him when he texted me.”
“You’re horrible,” he starts laughing now, relieved that this guy never even stood a chance. “I love it.”
“You’re supposed to be encouraging me to get out there and find a boyfriend, loser. Brush up on the best friend manual.” You complain, pulling the hood over your head and hiding your face from him so he can’t see how much it hurts to think about finding someone that isn’t him.
He doesn’t notice anyway; he’s distracted by the sound of the covers moving and his girlfriend yawning.
You hear it too, and glance up at the camera. “You have to go?”
His heart breaks at how sad you look. “Yeah, sounds like she’s actually waking up this time. Sorry, honey.”
You shrug, and he knows you’re trying to appear unbothered. “It’s okay. We got, what, an hour and a half? That’s a whole extra 45 minutes or so.”
“You’re allowed to tell me how you really feel, y’know.”
“Damn it, Oscar. You just see right through me. I don’t know why I even bother.” You sigh, covering your face with your hands.
“I don’t know why, either,” he attempts to joke. “Look, I-”
“Oscar? Where are you?” His girlfriend calls, and you stiffen up at the sound of her voice.
“Be there in a minute!” He responds, turning his attention back to you. “I’ll call you again as soon as possible, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Bye, honey.”
“Bye, Osc.”
You hang up first.
“I love you,” he whispers to his blank phone screen, and gets up to start his day.
You say it back to your own blank screen and go to sleep.
Tumblr media
Oscar comes to the steadfast conclusion that he wants you and only you at his side at his home race, and not as a friend.
Breaking up with his girlfriend still looms over him. He lies awake for way too long at night trying to figure out the nicest way to do it, but his thoughts always end up taking a detour to you and how he wishes it was you sleeping next to him instead.
Despite the struggle going on in his mind, he goes through the motions of PDA with her for all the cameras and other drivers in the paddock to see. Lando is the only one who realizes what his issue is.
“Mate, you have to figure this out.” The older driver said out of the blue as they were lounging in McLaren hospitality after qualifying.
“Huh?” Oscar frowned at him, tearing his eyes away from his texts with you. “I know I fucked up that quali, but it’s not like I can’t improve.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, you muppet.” Lando rolled his eyes, and said your name like it’s obvious. “You just have to break up with the girl you’re with now so you can have the girl you really want.”
“You say that like it’s so simple.” Oscar mumbled, looking at the text from you that had just come in.
Just focus on the race, Osc. Quali’s behind you, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll be cheering you on, what could possibly go wrong??
“It is, if you think about it. Besides, you’ve been acting so weird lately she might already think something’s up.”
“Gee, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better.” Oscar groaned, sinking lower into his chair.
“Always here for you, mate.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“I don’t care.”
That enlightening conversation gets Oscar to finally work up the courage to tell his girlfriend those dreaded words following the race– “We need to talk.”
He waits until they’re in the hotel room after dinner to say it so there’s no audience, primarily because he knows that she’s prone to throwing fits when things don’t go her way. The memory of her losing her mind when he took you to breakfast during vacation comes screaming back to him at the speed of light.
She doesn’t say anything at first; instead, she takes her time removing her shoes and taking the pins out of her hair. Oscar can’t stand the silence, so he starts speaking again.
“It’s about-”
“I think I know what this is about.” She interrupts him.
“You do?”
“I’d have to be stupid not to know, Oscar. You’ve been off for the past few days, it’s only with me, and every time I wake up you’re hiding in the bathroom on the phone.” She holds up a hand when he opens his mouth. “I know it’s her, and I’ve known since that vacation. You don’t have to tell me.”
“You’re… you’re not gonna yell?” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice.
“It won’t get me anywhere, will it?”
“It never did.”
She smiles matter-of-factly. “I guess I have to work on that.”
She packs her things without argument. Oscar offers to buy her a plane ticket somewhere, but she waves him off and thanks him anyway before walking out the door.
The Australian Grand Prix is in two weeks. Oscar doesn’t think before he calls you.
“I’m coming home. I need to see you.”
Tumblr media
Your heart has been in your throat ever since Oscar called you this morning. He was so hasty that he didn’t even tell you when he was coming, so every little movement you see outside your window has you running to see if it’s him or not.
He doesn’t show up until almost 9:30 at night. You can hear the engine of his car as he flies through your neighborhood with practiced ease and nearly drifts into your driveway. Your stomach is jumping with nerves and excitement; you didn’t think you’d see him for another two weeks, and despite the awkwardness that your feelings have brought to your friendship, you want nothing more than to hug your best friend.
He starts impatiently knocking on the door as you nearly trip down the stairwell in your rush to let him in.
“Hold on!” You shout, fingers shaking as you unlock the door and wrench it open. “Are you trying to break my door?”
“Jokes later, let me hold you,” he says, reaching for you and meeting you in the middle of the doorway as he pulls you into his chest for a tight embrace.
You melt into him immediately, your arms wrapped around his neck and your nose pressed to the warm skin that peeks out of his hoodie. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you mumble, squeezing him.
He shivers, kissing the top of your head. “I’m here, baby.”
I’m sorry, baby. You think about that so much that it shouldn’t hurt anymore. It sobers your mood a little.
“Why, though?” You ask, pulling away a little to look at him. “Don’t you have things to be doing?”
“I may have forced them to clear my schedule by coming home without telling anyone.”
“Oscar!” You exclaim. “Why? You could get in trouble!”
“Can we talk inside?”
“Yeah, of course. C’mon.” You take his hand and lead him into your house.
He takes off his shoes, leaves his suitcase in the hall, and goes to your living room on autopilot, where he flops down on the couch and lets out a long breath. You sit next to him, knees bumping together as you look at him with a reasonable amount of concern. “You’re acting weird. What’s wrong with you?”
“I broke up with her.” He says, rolling his head to the side so he’s looking at you. “So, nothing’s wrong with me.”
“Bullshit, Osc, it seemed to me like you really liked her.”
“You didn’t, though.”
“Who cares what I think?” Your brain fully computes his words. “Wait- actually, no. I’m not even going to act surprised by the fact that you knew that.” You sigh.
“I care what you think. I care about you. A lot.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I don’t think you do.” He sits up straighter now, turning his whole body to face you. “Like, in a romantic way.”
You blink at him a couple times. “No you don’t.”
“I don’t?” He repeats incredulously.
“You can’t. You don’t.” You say. “You’re lying.”
“I’m lying?” He says through a laugh. “You’ve known me your whole life. When have I ever lied to you?”
You press your lips together. The only time he’s ever lied to you is when he planned your surprise parties. “I’m gonna need you to do a really good job explaining yourself, otherwise I’m kicking you out. You can’t do this to me, Oscar, you know how I feel-”
“Yes, I do, and I’d love to explain if you’d stop spiraling for a second.” He interrupts, taking your hands to ground you.
You’re once again having the dilemma of wanting to push him away and pull him closer simultaneously. The pressure of his hands holding yours succeeds in calming you, so you allow it.
“The whole reason I knew how you felt in the first place is because of the way you looked at me in the kitchen. You didn’t notice, but I looked at you the exact same way at the prom.” He says, gauging your reaction by how your face contorts slightly as you try to remember the prom at all, aside from the fleeting memory of forcing him to slow dance with you. “That feeling like time stops? Like-”
“Like I got hit by a truck,” you recall, looking down as he runs his thumbs over your knuckles.
“Right.” He nods. “Look, the bottom line here is that I screwed up by not telling you then, and if I had, we would’ve been dating for years at this point and this conversation wouldn’t even be happening.”
You feel like you look like a fish out of water with how your jaw is opening and closing, searching for something to say in response. “Osc-”
“If this makes you change your mind, I get it.” He continues. “But the whole reason I came here is to tell you that I love you. I’m in love with you and I have been since we were 18.”
You go to muster up something to say in response when he says one more thing. “Oh, and I’m tired of only being able to see you through the phone. That’s the other reason.”
You can’t help it– that, paired with his polite cat smile, his flushed cheeks, and his confession has you dissolving into giggles. That quickly morphs into laughter that sends you leaning so far forward your head is practically in Oscar’s lap, but he doesn’t seem to mind because he’s laughing too.
“I hate you so much,” you gasp out, pushing yourself back up so you can look at him when you tell him the complete and total truth. “I’ve been in love with you since we were 14.”
“Shit, that means I have eight years to make up for, not four.”
“Sucks to suck.” You say, easily falling back into your age-old banter.
“You sound like Lando,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “And I was gonna ask if I could kiss you.”
“Ah, shoot. I ruined it.”
“Hmm, no. I’m gonna ask you anyway.” He shifts closer to you, brushing your hair out of your face with both hands. “Can I kiss you? Please?”
You start nodding before he even finishes asking, maybe too enthusiastically, but it’s Oscar. He knows you. He wants you. You don’t need to be embarrassed.
The press of his lips against yours is soft, gentle. You always thought that if you ever kissed Oscar it might be too weird, but the only thing you feel now is right.
It feels right to thread your fingers into his hair. It feels right to let him tug you closer, closer, closer, until you have no choice but to straddle him so you can be as close as he wants you. It feels right when his hands slip under your shirt and lightly run over the skin of your back, when his tongue meets yours, when you give his hair an experimental tug and he moans into your mouth.
The only thing wrong about it is that you have no choice but to break the kiss in order to breathe, but even then you don’t move far from each other, breaths mixing in the minimal space between you both.
“We could have been doing that for a long time,” Oscar sighs, throwing his head back against the couch.
“We have all the time in the world now that we stopped being idiots and confessed.” You point out.
“D’you think you can come to the race in a couple weeks? We can take it slow with this, no one needs to know… I just want you to be there.” He asks.
“Of course, Osc, are you kidding?” You run your hands over his shoulders and down to where his hands rest on your hips. “Though, if you win, I can’t promise no PDA or anything.”
“I’d expect nothing less from my girlfriend.” You can feel him tense up a little, like he’s expecting you to react negatively, but he relaxes immediately when your smile lights up your whole face and you kiss him again.
“I love you,” he whispers against your lips.
“I love you,” you whisper back.
No one else needs to hear it just yet. You only need to tell each other.
Tumblr media
note: i sincerely hope this made up for any tears i may have caused with the angst in the first part. this is the first time i’ve ever been inspired to write a part 2, and i think it’s because i desperately needed it to end happily. thank you so much for all the love on falling for you; i never expected it to get as much attention as it did!
requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!
reblogs are greatly appreciated <33
dividers by @/saradika !
tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @niallerswolf @fangirl-dot-com @hood-jabi @vellicora @k-pevensie28 @cami26cami @arian-directioner @vildetry06 @hauntedphotographybookstaco @bigheartsthings @northpizzasposts @notturlover @riv3rbank @gesfjjsl @oliveisunstable @lily1sposts @sadbut-true0 @lilcowboy0 @alltoowelltaylor @kimis-gloves @superheroreader @alexmarie29 @anedpev @lalalaphie @waitingforsmartpeople @arrowenchantress @zillygoose @its-cat-eyes @gxllumsriddles @fionaschicken @mrsgeorgerussell63 @bre013 @lizzypiastri @blldsnjs @samantha-chicago @homosexualjohnwayne @opheliabluewolff @catbat011 @drivelikeiido @what-is-happening-helpp @decafmickey @tania2748 @steviesscoops @annahowardsworld
1K notes · View notes
0omillo0 · 7 days ago
Note
Your fics are so good literally I check this place every day. I would mainline skz angst fics if I could. Angst/hurt/comfort PLEASE. Hyunjin one where reader was in an abusive relationship in the past and they get into an argument that was really miscommunication and Hyunjin like, doesn’t raise his fists but like turns around fast or something and spooks reader and they run off, no phone no keys no nothing. Pure flight mode.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Hyunjin x reader ; angst -> comfort
warnings: abusive ex, mention of fighting
a/n: I’ve FINALLY finished school I’m so tired, but I’m happy I can write all your requests now! (thank you xoxo). also thank you for requesting this! It’s the same problem I have so it was comforting writing this
It wasn’t Hyunjin’s fault.
You kept telling yourself that, repeating it silently, like a mantra, as the tension between you both began to rise. The words in your head sounded steady, but your body didn’t believe them. The weight pressing on your chest grew heavier with each exchanged word, with every flicker of frustration in his voice.
Hyunjin was nothing like him.
But no matter how hard you tried, the past didn’t stay buried.
Your ex had turned arguments into weapons. He had wielded raised voices like shackles, holding you captive. Apologies had come like clockwork after the damage was done, hollow promises that nothing would change. It had taken years to leave—years to find your way out of the cycle. And when you met Hyunjin, with his kind heart and gentle soul, you’d believed healing was possible.
You wanted so desperately to believe it.
The argument started over something small, something so inconsequential you barely remembered how it had begun. You’d mentioned the groceries—how there were none left at home—and he had bristled.
“I can’t do everything, Y/N,” he said sharply, barely glancing up from where he stood at the counter, his voice carrying an edge that made you pause.
It took a moment for you to respond. “I didn’t say you had to. I was just—”
“You were just what?” He turned then, meeting your gaze with frustration flickering in his dark eyes. “Pointing out another thing I forgot? Adding it to the list?”
The words hit you like a wave, unsteadying your footing. Your heart sank as you studied his expression.
“That’s not fair,” you said quietly, your tone cautious now. “I wasn’t trying to blame you for anything.”
“Well, it sure sounded like it.” He ran a hand through his hair, his voice lower now but no less biting.
You took a step forward, something twisting painfully inside you. “Why are you acting like this?” you asked, your voice rising slightly. You hated the tremor that betrayed you, hated that you already felt like you were losing control.
“I’m not acting like anything!” he shot back, his voice louder now, filling the space between you. “Why do you always have to push? Why can’t you just let things go?”
“Because I care about you, Hyunjin! I care when you’re upset, and I don’t know why you won’t just tell me what’s wrong!”
A bitter laugh escaped his lips as he turned his head, shaking it in disbelief. “Maybe I don’t want to talk about it. Did you think of that?”
The words cut deeper than you expected, the sharpness in his tone stealing the air from your lungs.
“I’m just trying to help—”
“Well, maybe I don’t need your help!” he interrupted, his voice breaking into a shout.
You flinched at the sound, the echo of it slamming into you like a freight train. Your heart was pounding now, your breath coming shorter. Your feet shuffled backward, almost on instinct, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“God, you act like you need to fix everything,” he continued, his frustration spilling out unchecked. “Like you need to fix me.”
Your breath hitched, and the room around you seemed to shift. For a moment, Hyunjin’s voice wasn’t his—it was someone else’s. Someone whose words were weapons. Someone who’d told you time and time again that you were the problem.
“I don’t want to fix you,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to steady yourself. “I just want to understand.”
“Well, maybe I don’t need you to understand!” His voice broke again, louder this time, frustration and exhaustion tangled together in every syllable.
And then it happened.
Hyunjin turned sharply, his hand flying up to rake through his hair in agitation. The movement was sudden, unintentional, but your body didn’t care. Your mind didn’t stop to think.
You ran.
You didn’t even remember the door slamming behind you, your bare feet hitting the pavement as you fled into the cold night air.
The streets blurred as you moved, the echo of his voice—louder, sharper than you’d ever heard it—ringing in your ears. Your heart pounded painfully in your chest, your breaths coming in short, frantic gasps. You didn’t stop to grab your keys or your phone. You didn’t stop to think about where you were going.
The only thought in your mind was to escape.
The cold pavement stung your feet, but you barely felt it. The thin fabric of your shirt did nothing to shield you from the biting wind, but you didn’t care. The fear clawing at your chest was louder than anything else.
You didn’t stop until your legs gave out beneath you, your body collapsing onto a park bench in the middle of nowhere. The silence around you was deafening, broken only by the sound of your ragged breaths.
You curled into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest as tears spilled down your face. The trembling in your hands wouldn’t stop, no matter how tightly you clutched at your arms.
“I’m so stupid,” you whispered to yourself, your voice breaking between sobs. “He’s not like that. He’d never—”
But the fear wouldn’t let go.
When Hyunjin realized you were gone, it was like the air had been sucked out of the room. The door was ajar, swaying slightly in the wind. The apartment felt empty without you there.
“Y/N!” he called out, his voice laced with panic as he grabbed his coat and bolted into the night.
He searched everywhere he could think of: the café you loved, the little bookstore down the street, the convenience store on the corner.
But you weren’t there.
He called your name again and again, his voice growing hoarse as the minutes dragged on.
And then he saw you.
You were curled up on a bench beneath a flickering streetlight, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
“Y/N!” he shouted, relief and guilt flooding his chest as he ran toward you.
Your head snapped up, your tear-streaked face locking onto his. For a moment, you tensed, your body shrinking back as if to protect itself.
“It’s me,” he said softly, raising his hands in surrender. “It’s just me.”
He approached slowly, his heart breaking at the sight of you. “Can I come closer?”
You nodded after a moment, your breaths shaky.
He knelt in front of you, his hands hovering uncertainly before he reached out to place his coat over your trembling shoulders. “You’re freezing,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “God, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s not your fault,” you cut in, your voice barely audible. “I panicked. It’s—it’s my past. I just…” You couldn’t finish, fresh tears spilling over.
Hyunjin reached for your hands, his own trembling as he held them gently. “I don’t care how long it takes, or what it takes—I’ll do whatever I need to so you feel safe again. Please, just let me take you home.”
The apartment felt warmer when you returned, but you still shivered beneath the blanket Hyunjin had wrapped around you. He made tea in silence, his movements slow and careful, as if afraid to startle you.
When he finally sat beside you, he looked at you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.
“I want to know,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “I want to understand what you’ve been through. I don’t want to hurt you again.”
You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. But when you saw the worry in his eyes, the love that hadn’t wavered despite everything, you told him.
You told him everything.
Hyunjin listened without interrupting, his hands gripping yours tightly.
“I’ll never raise my voice like that again,” he said when you finished, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll never make you feel unsafe. I swear.”
You nodded, leaning into him as his arms wrapped around you. You let yourself believe him.
tags: @intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght
329 notes · View notes
auroralwriting · 7 months ago
Text
second chances
bucky barnes x reader (no use of y/n, next-door-neighbor trope!)
you once came face-to-face with the winter soldier, will bucky barnes be any different?
word count: 1.6k. | no warnings
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The Winter Soldier's face was etched into your mind since the day you'd seen him. It was one of those average days in New York, you'd just gone out for some shopping. Sometimes Avenger sightings were normal, but seeing Captain America in full sprint was a sure fire sign something was amiss. That was when the shooting began.
You were quick to move people, ducking them under tables, shooing them further up the street, making them take corners to evade the flying bullets. It was just an instinct, there were too many people who could get hurt.
Then, you saw him.
His face was covered by a mask, but that arm, his left arm! It was completely metal. That was one of the features you burned into your brain, along with his hair color, skin color, height. The pure adrenaline and fear had pushed you to stop, freeze in place, and memorize the man.
It was then you were ushered to move by the man you found out was The Falcon. You were safe, but the smoke, the bullets, the explosions, it was all muted and dull compared to The Winter Soldier.
Years had gone by, you'd been a victim to what they called The Blip. Five whole years had forced you to relocate to Brooklyn, some cheap ass apartment building you were sure was haunted. You'd been living there for five months, got some furniture, meet the neighbors, it was a place content with being home. The one aspect that kept you up was the empty apartment next to you. It had been rotting since you moved in, you wondered who would fill its void, make the place a home once more.
It didn't take more than those five months for your answer to appear. It was grocery day, a list in your pocket and your wallet in hand, you'd just stepped out the door. Turning around, there he was.
It had been so many years since that fateful day, but you knew that stance, the hair color, height, everything about him. Through a peek in his jacket, you saw the hint of metal.
It was obvious he knew what you were thinking. The way your breath was heavy, eyes widened, there was no way he didn't know exactly what was rushing though your mind. He opened his mouth, but you rushed down the hall before he could say anything. The elevator ride down was when it hit you; he was your neighbor.
Tumblr media
It had taken a week and a half for Bucky to gather the courage to face you. That look in your eyes was pure fear, he knew it all too well. He'd checked his list a hundred times, but your name wasn't on it. Okay, maybe he'd done some light digging into you, just a quick ask of some of the neighbors and he learned your name. He'd never hurt you, but that also didn't mean you'd never encountered him, either.
White fur of his cat, Alpine, brushed between his legs. The cat stared at Bucky, giving a soft meow. Bucky sighed, scratching between her ears. "I know, girl." He sighed, "I just need to get it over with."
The walk to your next-door apartment felt like it took ages. Bucky felt himself ridden with guilt when he softly tapped his knuckles on the door.
With the chain lock still in place, the door was opened a crack. "What do you want?" Your voice came out quickly, but it was laced with fear.
"I just.. wanna say hi to my new neighbor?" Bucky hesitated. That wasn't what he had planned on saying.
The door closed, and Bucky almost turned away when he heard the familiar sound of the chain dropping. The door opened and you slipped your way through. "You want to say hi?" Your asked in disbelief.
Bucky rubbed the back of his neck with his flesh arm. "Uh, yes. And, uh, apologize. I know- I know you know who I am, was. And uh, I'm not that guy anymore. It's really complicated-"
"I have time," Your response took him back. You were looking at him expectantly, your door now pushed wide open. "Are you gonna come in?"
Bucky's story was unlike any you'd ever heard. He spoke in such detail, starting from the forties to now. You'd given him some water, a soda for yourself as you sat on your couch, listening to his whole story. By the end, you felt such sympathy for the guy. He even went as far as to show you his little book (it broke your heart even more when you were told it was Steve's), amends he needed to make, movies and music he needed to see. There was a lot more to him than you expected. Much to both of your surprises, a friendship had blossomed that very day.
From that moment on, anytime Bucky would leave to go cross another name off his list, Alpine would stay at your place. You kept her company, fed her, gave her water, loved on her. Then, sometimes you found yourself missing her, so, naturally, you began going 'round Bucky's to play with her while he was home. Eventually, he began to stay around you both, watching tv or making dinner for the three of you.
Sooner or later, you had clothes at Bucky's apartment, and he kept som at yours, too. It was just friendly, of course. You just spent so much time together that it was natural to keep some belongings at each other's places.
The real change was the night you heard the loudest knocking, no, pounding, you'd ever heard on your door. The adrenaline left you jumping out of bed to go see what was happening. Throwing open the door, a disheveled, sweaty, and tearful Bucky stood, chest heaving as his hands gently grasped your face. His eyes met yours, scanning all over your face as you softly shushed him. You lead him into your apartment and laid him down in your bed. You sat next to him until he fell back asleep. He'd told you his nightmares were bad, but never this bad. It left you feeling guilty leaving him all alone in a bed he'd never been in. So, you slipped under the sheets next to him, just so he would feel a sense of comfort when he woke up.
Then that became the new normal for a few weeks. Anytime Bucky would have a nightmare, he'd slip into your bed with the key you'd given him after the second jumpscare of his fists colliding with your door.
The biggest change in your odd friendship was the night Bucky showed up at ten, before either of you had gone to sleep.
"Bucky?" You called from your spot on the couch, watching as he walked in, clad in his pajama pants and loose, grey tee-shirt. He didn't look panicked yet, you were confused why he was here so late, yet so early.
The soldier gave you a small smile, "Hi," You watched as he fumbled with his fingers, "I was wondering if I could stay? Didn't feel right bein' alone tonight." And so he stayed.
That's when the new habit began. Occasional nightmare-induced sleepovers turned into spending every night together, slowly merging to his apartment, too. You'd bring a book or your phone as Bucky would watch whatever was on tv quietly, sometimes he'd read too. Spending the night together became the new normal, you didn't know how you'd gone so far in your life without being with him like this.
Like what, though?
I mean, sure, you slept over together, he'd cook you both meals, you basically shared custody of his cat, shared apartments. But.. what? That wasn't something just friends did, but you'd never gone as far as to do anything people who were more than friends did either. So, you avoided him for approximately three days before Bucky had you cornered.
"Doll, where've you been?" Bucky asked. You could see it in his eyes, the hurt. "Been missin' you. I haven't seen you 'round, lately."
You gave him a small shrug, "Just been busy, Bucky." you answered.
Bucky knew your schedule like the back of his hand. In fact, he probably knew it better than his own. Unless something sudden or serious came up, there was no way you'd been that busy, unless..
"Why are you avoiding me?" The soldier questioned. "And don't lie to me, either. I know when you're lying."
The nerves crept up your spine as your mind raced through different answers to give him. "I've just been busy helping my aunt."
Bucky's eyebrow shot up, "Your aunt?"
"Yeah, my aunt."
"Which aunt?" Bucky questioned further, prying into your lie.
You felt your heart race, "My Aunt Leah,"
"The one who lives in Kentucky?" Bucky's face clearly showed he was not buying it.
"What are we, Buck?" You suddenly asked, feeling overwhelmed by his questions and your lie.
Bucky's face morphed into one of surprise, "What?" What did you mean, 'What are we?' You were his best friend, his everything. Wait, his everything? Bucky felt hopelessly stupid when he realized he'd never even acknowledged the fact that he could even like you.
"We sure as hell aren't just friends," You continued, "And I know for a fact that best friends don't sleep over every night, or eat every meal together, go shopping, watch movies," Your rant continued as you grilled into Bucky. "And I don't think I can keep going unless I'm yours,"
Your words had Bucky breathless, "Doll, 'course you're mine." Like a twist of fate, his words now held you breathless as you stared at the man, wide eyed. "I'm the stupid one, I should've made my intentions more clear from when I first started feeling more."
With a shake of your head, you gave Bucky a small smile, "You're not stupid, Buck."
"You wanna go get dinner tonight?" Bucky asked, "Officially as my girl, my treat."
A smile gleamed on your face, "I'd love nothing more."
911 notes · View notes
sergeantbarnessdoll · 4 months ago
Note
I’m just thinking about Bucky denying that he doesn’t feel well because I’m a super solider, I can’t get sick!
So he goes and tells Dr. Raynor what’s going on during his next session. As it would turn out, super soldiers are immune to many physical things, but they aren’t immune to anxiety attacks.
While he’s gone to his session, Reader finds an old recipe book with a handwritten soup recipe inside of it. It’s probably as old as Bucky is, if not older— but it’s very well-preserved. She makes some of the soup for when Bucky returns, because no matter what, soup is an exemplary comfort food.
Bucky comes back and he could swear he smells something that he hasn’t smelled in decades, since he was a kid. He smells his grandmother’s soup recipe— but that can’t be right, right? His body’s lying to him, there’s no way it’s there, a century later.
As he walks into the kitchen, the scent gets stronger. Reader made soup just for him. His anxiety starts to evaporate like the steam from the soup.
After all: it’s made with the secret ingredient.
Made With Love » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier
Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader
Summary: Bucky comes home from therapy to find out that you made his grandma’s soup recipe.
Warnings: Fluff, language, mention of Anxiety, kissing, pet names
A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵
Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.
Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier
GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Are you sure you’re ok, baby?” You asked while sitting on the bed and watching Bucky get dressed.
“Yes, I’m fine, doll.” Bucky answers.
You frowned. He sounds different. He doesn’t sound like his normal self. It worried you. You got off of the bed and walked over to Bucky.
“I hope you’re not getting sick.” You say worriedly, putting your hand on his forehead to make sure he doesn’t have a fever.
“I can’t get sick, doll.” He gently took your hand off his forehead and kissed the back of it. “I’m a Super Soldier, remember?” He says.
You pouted up at your boyfriend, knowing that something’s off about him, but you can’t figure out what it is.
“I have to go to therapy.” He sighs. “I’ll see you later, ok?” He says.
“Ok.” You sighed. “I love you.” You say, standing on your tippy toes to kiss his lips.
“I love you too, babydoll.” He says softly.
You watched him walk out of the bedroom and listened for the door to the apartment to close. You looked down at the basket of clean clothes that needs to be folded and hung up. You sighed loudly, not wanting to do it, but it needs to be done.
You grabbed the clothes that need to be hung up in the closet and took them in there, hanging them up. Your foot bumped an old box and knocked it over. You crouched down and picked up what fell out of it. You came across an old recipe book. You picked it up and opened it. The inside of the front cover was signed “Grandma Barnes”. That was enough to tell you that the recipe book once belonged to Bucky’s grandma.
You found a piece of paper with a handwritten recipe on it. You read the ingredients on it, seeing that it’s a recipe for soup. You got to thinking… if you make this for Bucky, he’ll feel better compared to how he felt this morning. Everyone loves soup, right? It’s comforting.
You wrote the ingredients down on a different piece of paper, making a grocery list. You put the recipe book on the kitchen counter and went to the grocery store to buy the ingredients for the soup. Meanwhile, Bucky was at his therapy session, not wanting to be there.
“How are you?” Dr. Raynor asks Bucky.
“I’m ok I guess.” Bucky answers and shrugs.
“What do you mean you guess?” She asks.
“I been feeling off for the past couple of days and I don’t know what it is.” He tells her. “My girlfriend thought I was getting sick, but I can’t get sick. Super Soldiers are immune to everything.” He says.
Dr. Raynor wrote what Bucky said down in her notebook, making him roll his eyes. He hates that fucking notebook.
“I think you’ve been experiencing Anxiety.” She tells him. “Are you still having those nightmares?” She asks.
“Not lately.” He answers honestly.
Dr. Raynor looked at Bucky for a few seconds, making sure he’s not lying before writing it down in her notebook.
“You’re just having some Anxiety.” She closed her notebook. “Like you said, Super Soldiers are immune to everything, but they’re not immune to Anxiety.” She explains. “Try talking about how you’re feeling with your girlfriend and you might feel better.” She says.
Bucky nods before leaving her office. He got his phone out of his pocket and texted you.
Bucky: I’m on my way home
Doll🩷: Ok see you in a little bit😘
Bucky smiles at your text before shutting his phone off and put it back in his pocket, making his way home.
Bucky sighs contently when he walks inside of yours and his apartment, closing the door behind him. He stops in his tracks when he smells something all too familiar. He knows that smell. It’s something he hasn’t smelt since he was a kid. He made his way to the kitchen to see a pot on the stove. He walked to the stove to look inside of the pot, seeing the soup his grandma made when he was a kid. He seen her recipe book and soup recipe a few inches away from the stove, which confirmed it for him.
“Baby, you’re home!” You smiled. “How was therapy? Did Dr. Raynor help you figure out why you haven’t been feeling good the past couple of days?” You asked.
“It was- I umm-” Bucky was too speechless to answer you.
He turned around so he was facing you. You looked at him, waiting for him to say something.
“Did you make this?” He asks, referring to the soup.
“Yes!” You answered. “You weren’t feeling good the past couple of days so I made you something comforting. I also found what I think is your grandma’s recipe book in our bedroom closet when I was putting away laundry.” You tell him.
“It is my grandma’s recipe book.” He says, picking the book up.
You stood there, watching him look at his grandma’s recipe book. You couldn’t tell if he was happy or you accidentally did something wrong.
“I overstepped, didn’t I?” You asked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I thought you might want something from your childhood and-” Bucky kissed you before you could finish your sentence.
Bucky kissed you with so much passion that it took your breath away.
“You didn’t overstep in any way, babydoll. I’m just speechless, because I haven’t eaten this since I was a kid.” He explains. “I could marry you right now.” He says happily.
You smiled widely. You stood up on your tippy toes and kissed him sweetly.
“To answer your question, Dr. Raynor said I’ve been having Anxiety and talking to you about how I’m feeling might help.” He says, finally answering your question from a couple minutes ago.
“Is she going to give you medicine for it or something?” You asked curiously.
“No.” He answers. “Why would I need to take medicine when I have the most gorgeous girlfriend in the world?” He says.
You blushed when he called you gorgeous. Bucky kisses you passionately again.
“I love you more than anything in this world, doll.” Bucky whispers, looking deep in your eyes.
“I love you too, baby.” You say softly.
You kissed him once more before getting him a bowl of soup. He took a bite of it, savoring the taste of it.
“I think I just fell in love with you again.” Bucky says.
“Is it good?” You asked. “I know it’s probably not as good as how your grandma made it.” You say.
“It’s amazing! You made it just right.” He says.
“I also made it with everyone’s favorite special ingredient.” You tell him with a smile.
Bucky smiles widely, already knowing that special ingredient is love. You got yourself a bowl of soup and tried it. You savored the taste too.
“This is amazing.” You say, agreeing with Bucky.
“I told you.” He says with a smile.
There was a moment of silence while you two ate. Bucky looked at you with the look of love and adoration on his face. He reached over and gently put your hand in his.
“My grandma would’ve loved you.” He says softly with a smile.
“I bet she would’ve.” You say, smiling back.
🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖
-Bucky’s Doll
492 notes · View notes
anakinstwinklebunny · 4 months ago
Note
hiii
so idk if your requests are open but could you please write some hcs about clayton Beresford as a husband and dad
Thank youuu ❤️
☆*: .。. o(≧▽≦)o .。.:*☆
HUSBAND/DAD!CLAY HEADCANONS
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
TW: at some point it contains filthy, crazy sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.
Author's note: of course my requests are open! I just LOVE seeing notification from my inbox, so thank you very much <3 hope you like it
Tumblr media
MARRIAGE
Clayton Beresford who after two delightful years of your relationship proposed to you. He took you to the fancy restaurant, and since it was something you did often, you hadn't have any suspicious. But have you thought about marrying him? Of course, yet, you wanted to give him time. You knew how his earlier marriage ended so it'd be out of your character to even suggest him taking your relationship to another level. But the ring you got was out of your wildest dreams - 4 carat round cut diamond ring that seemed to shine more than every star in the sky
Clayton Beresford who got even more all-about-you after wedding. Even more love making with no care in the world, long honeymoon, even more spent time together just more everything
Clayton Beresford who, despite his demanding job, always makes time for you. He’s the type of husband who will surprise you with small gestures; like leaving sweet notes in your purse or sending you flowers (mostly to your workplace) randomly just to remind you that he’s thinking of you.
Clayton Beresford who loves planning spontaneous weekend trips to your favorite places. Whether it’s a cozy cabin in the mountains or a luxury hotel in the city, Clayton enjoys these escapes to focus solely on you without any distractions.
Clayton Beresford who's big on surprises. He might book a last-minute trip to Paris (or any place on earth), arrange for a private dinner on the rooftop of the restaurant's building or just in the place you'd not be able to pay by yourself. Or buy you that piece of jewelry you casually mentioned months ago.
Clayton Beresford who has a strong protective instinct. He always ensures you’re safe, and anyone who might pose a threat to you or your happiness would have to face his wrath.
Clayton Beresford who depended on you doing the grocery shopping since he had never done that before (however after a few times he gained knowledge);
Clay glanced away for just a second, but when he looked back, you were gone. His brow furrowed as he scanned the immediate area, stepping away from the cart to see if you had wandered behind another display. But there was no sign of you.
“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, frustration creeping in as he quickened his pace, determined not to lose you. Not in this place.
He began weaving through the aisles, his eyes darting around in search of you, listening intently for any sound that might be your voice. But the supermarket was huge, and the weekend crowd made it even more overwhelming.
With a groan of annoyance, Clay pressed on, moving faster now, his heart racing a little at the thought of losing you in this sea of people. Then, suddenly, his eyes caught a glimpse of you between rushing people. A glimmer of hope flickered in his chest as he turned sharply toward the sound.
You were standing by the dairy section, casually chatting on the phone as you picked up items. Relief washed over him, and he silently thanked whatever forces led him to find you.
Like a lost puppy or a child who had been separated from their parent, he hurried over to you, his earlier frustration melting into a quiet sense of relief.
Reaching for a carton of milk, you sensed someone close behind you. Turning around, you found Clay standing there, his expression a mix of worry and boyish vulnerability that made you smile. It was as if he had been a little kid lost in a big mall again.
You handed him the shopping list, tapping the line where it said 'bananas' with a knowing look.
Clay accepted the list with a determined nod. He was a grown man—he could handle picking up some bananas.
But when he reached the produce section, his confidence wavered as he stared at the six different types of bananas on display, his frown deepening in confusion.
It was supposed to be a simple task: grab the bananas and return to you. Yet here he was, staring at the display like they were some exotic species he had never encountered.
He didn't recognize any of the types, and he had no clue which one you wanted. So, with a loosing sigh, he carefully picked a bunch of yellow bananas, added some mini ones, and then tossed in a few green ones for good measure. Feeling a bit more confident, he placed them all in the cart and made his way back to you. A small, proud smirk forming on his lips as he approached.
“I got them,” he announced, a hint of pride in his voice as if he had just completed a great feat.
You glanced down at the cart, noticing the remarkable assortment. A smile tugged at your lips as you looked back at him. "Baby, but... they're all different kinds."
His smirk faded slightly as a flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. He glanced at the cart, then back at you “I know,” he admitted, his voice soft and a bit self-conscious. “I wasn’t sure which ones you wanted, so I just… grabbed a few to be safe.”
Your heart melted at his effort, and you stood on your toes to press a tender kiss to his cheek. "C'mon, we'll figure out these bananas together."
His cheeks flushed a deeper red at your affectionate gesture, and he looked down at you with warm, loving eyes, a shy smile curving his lips.
“Okay,” he murmured, feeling content as he started pushing the cart again, this time with you walking beside him.
PREGNANCY
Clayton Beresford who was shocked yet thrilled when he found out you're pregnant. He was always gentle with you but from that day he got on another level of doing everything in his power to make sure you're safe, happy and comfortable
Clayton Beresford who seemed to be hypnotized by your changing body (so obviously loved to have his hands on it, and you loved when he did)
Clayton Beresford who had to deal with your neediness for attention/affection;
"Baby, I'm already late. You know I can't stay longer," he sighs, slipping on his black cloak, the fabric rustling as he moves with familiar urgency.
"Are you sure you can't stay just a little longer?" you pout, leaning against the doorframe of your mudroom
He chuckles softly and walks over to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist to pull you close to his chest "Baby, I'd love nothing more than to stay," he murmurs "But…" he sighs again, the weight of responsibility heavy in his voice, "you know I can't be late twice in a row."
He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, his muscles firm against your softer frame. The warmth of his embrace makes you want to hold onto him just a little longer.
"But I thought you'd make love to me all morning," you tease, your voice soft and playful "and then spoil me with a big breakfast."
His eyes softened after his large hands roam over to cup your pregnant belly, his fingers gently tracing over the curve "That was the original plan," his lips formed into a knowing smirk. His hands linger on your body, as if memorizing every inch before he has to let go. "But you know I've got to go to work…"
"But what if the baby comes out while you're not here?" you pout, feeling the warmth of his knuckles as they gently trace over your swollen belly.
He chuckles softly at your worry, his lips curling into a reassuring smile. He steps back slightly, his hands slipping from your waist to admire the sight of your pregnant form. "Babe, we've talked about this. The baby's not coming today," he says with a confident grin, glancing down at your round belly before meeting your concerned gaze.
"Yeah... right," you mumble, still not entirely convinced.
He can't help but smirk at how endearingly moody you are, especially when you pout like that. With a gentle touch, he wraps his fingers around your chin, tilting your face up so you're looking directly into his smiling eyes. "Don't give me that look," he murmurs softly, his voice filled with warmth as he leans in closer, his breath brushing against your lips.
"I'm gonna miss you," you whisper, your voice barely audible as the reality of his departure sinks in.
His gaze locks onto your big, sparkling eyes as he gently cups your cheeks. "I'm going to miss you too, baby. But I have to go to work," he murmurs with a tender smile, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips once more.
"I love you, you know," your voice lingering, trying to stretch out the moment just a little longer.
His smile deepens, touched by your efforts to keep him close, but he's all too aware of the ticking clock. "I love you too, more than anything. But if I don't leave now, I'll be late for a meeting with the board... and I can't afford to do that again," his tone a mix of regret and urgency as he gives you a sympathetic look, hoping you understand.
"But you're their boss," you protest softly, a pout forming on your lips.
He sighs, knowing that leaving without giving you something special will likely leave you moody for the rest of the day. Even though he’s pressed for time, he quickly pivots. "How about I give you a kiss for the road?" he suggests, a playful glint in his eyes as he shifts the mood.
"Okay," you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips.
He smiles back, his hand finding its way to your cheek once more, tenderly cradling your face. He pauses, taking a moment to get lost in your sparkling blue eyes, savoring the connection before slowly closing his own and leaning in. His lips meet yours in a slow, loving kiss
Clayton Beresford who makes sure to lift up your pregnancy mood;
His heart sank at the sight of your tear-streaked face. Instantly, worry fills his eyes and he kneels beside you, his voice soft and full of concern. "Baby, what’s wrong?" He gently tilts your chin up with his fingers, urging you to meet his gaze.
"I feel so huge..." you murmur, your voice trembling with emotion.
"Baby, you know I love every part of you. Nothing could ever change that," he says tenderly, his words full of sincerity.
But your insecurities linger, and you turn to him, searching his face. "So you think I’m huge?" you ask, misinterpreting his silence as agreement.
He sighs again, feeling a pang of guilt at how vulnerable you are right now. Quickly, he tries to soothe your worries before they spiral. "No, no, love..." he insists, cupping your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the traces of your tears. "You’re not huge, you’re beautiful."
You glance down at your growing belly, frustration evident in your voice. "I barely fit into my pants."
He smiles softly, his gaze never leaving yours, understanding the deep-seated concerns you have about your changing body. "I know, sweetheart, I know," he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "But that’s just because of the incredible little life you’re carrying."
"You look absolutely radiant when you’re pregnant," he adds, his words filled with admiration, careful not to say anything that might upset you further.
"Yeah?" you sniffle, your voice small and uncertain.
He nods slowly, his eyes locked onto yours, full of love and reassurance. "Yeah, baby," he repeats softly. "You’re glowing, and you’re absolutely, stunningly beautiful. Anyone would be lucky to have you, pregnant or not."
"But what if after I push the baby out, I still look pregnant? And... and I have all these marks, and my body doesn’t go back to the way it was? And you'll leave me?"
His heart aches as he listens to your fears, unable to bear hearing you doubt the body he cherishes so deeply. "No, no, no, shhh, baby, no..." he murmurs urgently, his voice soothing as he tries to calm your spiraling thoughts. "I would never, ever leave you for that. My love for you knows no limits, nothing could change that."
His hands continue to tenderly stroke your face, his touch gentle and reassuring as he speaks. "I love you so much, sweetheart. The marks on your body from carrying our beautiful child—they'll only make me love you and your body even more."
"Yeah?" you sniffle, looking at him with tear-filled eyes.
his eyes filled with admiration and love as he nods "Yeah, baby. Because those marks are proof of your incredible strength, of the life you’ve nurtured for nine months.. and only an absolute goddess could manage that"
Clayton Beresford who every day remaided you how beautiful you are, what a treasure you are in his life that nothing could replace
Clayton Beresford who got more cuddly with you;
"Look at that… he’s a little boxer" his lips curved up as he felt the baby’s tiny movements beneath his fingertips. His voice was filled with awe, and there was a boyish excitement in his eyes that made you smile.
"He?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as you glanced up from your book. "How do you know it’s a boy?"
He shrugged, but the cheeky grin that spread across his features betrayed the certainty in his heart. He leaned closer, letting his chin rest on your bump. His touch was gentle, almost tingly at times while his long fingers made sure to memorize the path over your swollen skin
"Father’s instincts," he whispered
"Oh? Didn’t know you had those," you chuckled, your fingers threading through his tousled curls. There was something endearing about how intensely focused he was on your belly - his brow furrowed in concentration as he searched for more signs of the baby’s movements.
Clay still kept his, this time less wider, smile over his lips. He seemed to calm down under not only your touch but the feeling of your belly with his child right in his reach and right before his eyes. He shifted slightly, pressing his lips gently against your tummy. His lips lingered for a little longer, his expression changing to more surprised;
"Hush," he murmured softly, his hand stilling when he found the spot where the baby seemed to be resting. "I can sense him…"
Yet, the baby had quieted, and clay's lips formed into a pout. The frustration knitting his brows before he nuzzled to your belly "Can’t you encourage him to kick or something? I want to know that he’s alive…" he mumbled, his voice laced with a mix of concern and childish impatience (that you rarely saw before)
You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his earnestness. "Clay, how am I supposed to encourage him? Maybe he’s sleeping."
He groaned softly, looking up at you with those soulful eyes, making it impossible not to find him utterly endearing. He looked like a grumpy child who hadn’t received the attention he thought he deserved and it was both cute and hilarious
"Well, I don’t know," he muttered, his hand still drawing small circles on your belly. "Talk to him? Tell him how cool I am… maybe he’ll be excited then and want to say hi."
You rolled your eyes playfully, still stroking his curls. "Baby, don’t be ridiculous… he's probably sleeping."
He huffed in response, still pouting but clearly knowing you were right. The baby was just asleep, and there was nothing he could do but wait. Still, the idea of his child not acknowledging his presence seemed to tug at something deep within him.
"I just want him to know that I’m here too," he mumbled
You smiled down at him, your voice soothing as you reassured him. "I bet he does, clay."
"Just imagine how cute he’s gonna be," clay mused, his voice softening as he let himself drift into the fantasy of fatherhood. "A baby version of me, running around, being a menace to everyone…"
You smirked, raising an eyebrow. "What if it’s a girl?"
His hand paused for a moment, the weight of the thought catching him off guard. For a few seconds, his expression was blank as he processed the idea of having a daughter. Then, slowly, his usual cocky grin reappeared, but with a touch of tenderness that hadn’t been there before.
"A baby girl," he echoed, as if trying out the words. "She could get your looks, though. I wouldn’t mind that. The second most beautiful girl in the world… and daddy’s little princess."
Just then, he felt a light flutter beneath his palm. His eyes widened in surprise, lighting up like a child on Christmas morning, the pout completely erased by a wide grin "There you are…"
The baby seemed to respond to his voice, shifting slightly as if acknowledging his father’s presence. He continued to rub gently over your belly, his touch loving and protective, showering the area with soft kisses.
"Already responding to me," he whispered, a wave of satisfaction washing over him as he felt the tiny movements beneath his hands. "Smart baby…"
clayton continued to soothe your belly, his hands and lips moving in a calming rhythm until the baby settled back into stillness. Even as the baby quieted, he wasn’t ready to let go. He lingered, enjoying the feeling of being close to both of you, his heart full and content.
"Guess he’s asleep again…" he said softly, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
"Or maybe he’s just tired of you," you teased lightly, brushing a strand of hair away from his face.
His eyes widened in mock offense, his pout returning as he looked up at you, clearly not appreciating the joke. "Very funny," he grumbled, his frown deepening. "I am the most interesting person this baby will ever meet—"
But despite his grumbling, you could see the love and excitement in his eyes, the way he couldn’t wait to meet the little life growing inside you. And you knew, without a doubt, that he would be the best father this baby could ever ask for.
Clayton Beresford who spoiled you way more during your pregnancy. More presents without occasion, more affection, more cuddles, just more everything there was to give
Clayton Beresford who was there on most of your doctor appointments. If he had a busy schedule, which happened often, he then couldn't appear (but you didn't mind, since it was just doctor appointment to check on your and the child's health, nothing more so much important for him to be there everytime)
Tumblr media
Clayton Beresford who was obsessed with making love to you during your pregnancy;
"youre-youre so big--" you mewl underneath him
"I am, aren't I?" he panted, his hands gripping your plump hips tightly. "And you're so fucking tight, sweetheart." His words spurred him on, pushing deeper inside you to hit that sweet spot over and over again.
your eyes barely could keep themselves open from the sensation of having him again in your hole. Who would have known that your pregnancy hormones would make you so horny you would cry to Clayton about it. And him, being such a generous gentleman who loved his wife with all his being, how could just leave you like that? When you sobbed, begged for his touch
"Don't close your eyes," he commanded softly "Open them. Let me see the look on your face when I'm inside you."
your eyes reluctantly opened, at least they lingered between half opened and half closed. A moan rumbled through your throat as you took in the sight of his muscles that ripped whenever his hold grew too much
"That's it," he panted, his eyes locked onto yours. "Let me hear you." Clayton's breath hitched as he felt her body tremble beneath him. The way you moaned and your completely swollen breasts jingled with each thrust was driving him wild. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he warned you, picking up the pace even more.
PARENTHOOD
Clayton Beresford who was there for you for the whole childbirth. Encouraging you, giving you support, etc. He'd insist you'd hold the baby first, not him. And before he'd even hold the newborn, he'd make sure you're all safe and everything's okay;
After making sure you held the newborn first and you were all okay, he had time to take the baby close to his chest, his large, strong arms cradling the fragile newborn bundle with a tenderness that belied his powerful frame. The baby’s skin was a delicate shade of pink, still wrinkled from the birth, and Clay couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming surge of emotion as he gazed down at the tiny life nestled against him. The baby was so small, so impossibly vulnerable, and it made something deep within him tremble and break.
Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision as he gently stroked the baby’s cheek with a trembling hand. His touch was feather-light, his fingertips barely brushing the baby’s soft, downy skin and his hand looked enormous in comparison to the baby’s minuscule features.
“He’s so small…” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. His throat tightened as he tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.
“Are you crying?” you asked softly, a tired smile playing on your lips as you rested after the long and exhausting delivery
He glanced up at you and he felt a single tear escape and trail down his cheek “…No—yes… maybe…” he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He quickly wiped the tear away with the back of his hand, but it was clear that his composure was unraveling. He returned his gaze to the baby in his arms, his expression softening as he ran a gentle finger over the baby’s tiny hand, marveling at how delicate and perfect it was.
When the newborn's hand wrapped around clay's finger, he felt like his new heart might explode from overwhelming feeling. It was so cute, the baby’s grip firm and warm
“He’s holding my finger…” he murmured, his voice filled with pure, unfiltered awe
The baby continued to cling to his finger, his tiny hand gripping the large digit with a determination that was both heartwarming and humbling. Clay smiled through tears and a mixture of pride and amazement shined in his eyes as he gently caressed the baby’s hand, utterly mesmerized by the strength in such a small being.
“Such a tight grip… I’ve already created a little warrior,” he mused with a soft chuckle, his voice laced with pride. He looked down at his son, his heart brimming with a love so profound it was almost overwhelming. “You’re going to be strong, just like your momma” he added, his tone filled with admiration.
“…You have your momma’s eyes, you know?” he whispered, his voice barely audible as a fresh wave of emotion washed over him. There was a hint of pride in his voice, but also something deeper, something reverent. The sight of those eyes, so familiar and yet so new, made him feel as though he was looking at a piece of you—a part of the woman he loved more than anything in the galaxy.
As if sensing the weight of the moment, the baby cooed softly, his tiny body wriggling uncomfortably against the confines of the blanket. You watched the first interaction between your husband and your child and it was the most endearing thing you experience. Delivery was hard, damn it hurt like hell, as if devil himself teared your insides but as soon as the baby was out, all the pain was forgotten
“You don’t like that, huh?” he murmured, his voice filled with amusement as he gently traced soothing circles over the baby’s cheek “I don’t blame you… I’d hate being swaddled too.”
Clayton Beresford who is the kind of dad who’s always one step ahead when it comes to the safety and well-being of your children. He’s vigilant about who they spend time with and ensures they grow up in the safest environment possible.
Clayton Beresford who, despite his often serious demeanor, has a major soft spot when it comes to his children. He’s not afraid to get down on the floor and play with them, and he’ll often indulge them in things other might not—like staying up a bit past bedtime for just one more story.
Clayton Beresford who enjoys spoiling his kids, whether it’s with the latest toys, gadgets, or extravagant birthday parties. However, he’s careful to balance this with teaching them the importance of gratitude and not taking things for granted.
Clayton Beresford who, if you have a daughter, is wrapped around her little finger. He’s the type of dad who will attend tea parties, help with ballet practice, and learn how to braid hair just to make her happy;
"Hold on, baby, I'm almost finished," he murmured, his voice a soft yet deep rumble as he focused on working his fingers through the strands of your daughter's hair.
"Maybe we should just ask Mommy," she whispered, her small voice carrying a hint of doubt.
"No, no," he shook his head gently, a determined glint in his eye. "We don’t need Mommy for a braid. Daddy can do it just fine."
Clay's fingers moved clumsily but with care, tugging her hair a bit too tightly at times. His brows furrowed in concentration as he carefully looped the strands together.
"But Mommy always likes to help," she insisted, her tone hopeful.
"Daddy likes to help too," he replied, his voice tender but resolute, wanting to prove himself to his little girl.
He paused for a moment, examining his work with a critical eye. The braid was far from perfect—slightly uneven and a little messy, held together by a hairband that seemed to be doing more of the work than the braid itself. But as he looked at it, a small, proud smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"See? Not so bad, huh?"
Clayton Beresford who is big on teaching his children responsibility from a young age.
Clayton Beresford who made sure to pay attention to your kids after he came back from work. Even if he was extremely tired, he'd rather fall asleep with your baby boy in his arms than leaving you alone to deal with the children
Clayton Beresford who found you as his inspiration. You, with kids most of the time, still having energy to take care of him and the house. So, as soon as he changed his clothes after work, he replaced you in duties so you'd have your alone time.
Clayton Beresford who, if you had a son, played all the games the boy wanted. Like toys where the boy came up with some plot, plastic cars, playgrounds outside;
Clay sat on the floor, carefully stacking blocks into a tall tower while his son sat comfortably on his lap, his tiny hands occasionally reaching out to help—or hinder.
"What do you want to eat?" you asked softly from the kitchen doorway, watching the two with a fond smile.
Clay glanced up at you, a playful gleam in his eye. "You?" he teased, genuinely curious about your preference.
But before he could say more, the boy clumsily knocked over the tower with an excited shove, sending the blocks tumbling in all directions.
“Hey! You just destroyed Daddy’s masterpiece,” Clay said in mock offense, though his voice carried a warm, playful tone. He looked down at him, who was dissolving into giggles, his face scrunched up in pure joy.
"Well, I was thinking pasta... I'm really craving it," you said, your giggles mingling with theirs.
Clay's heart swelled as he watched you enjoy the moment just as much as he was. Turning back to the toddler, he gently poked his son’s side, earning more bubbly laughter from the little boy. “We don’t normally allow such behavior in the tower-building world,” he joked, his tone still light before turning his gaze to you "But pasta sounds good tho.."
With a grin, Clay stood up from the carpeted floor, scooping the boy up by his armpits and swinging him side to side, much to the toddler’s delight. "C'mon, you little silly guy, let's go help Mommy with dinner,"
Clayton Beresford who, no matter what interests or hobbies your kids have, is fully supportive. He’ll invest in lessons, equipment, or anything else they need to pursue their passions, always encouraging them to follow their dreams.
Clayton Beresford who, no matter how busy his life gets, always prioritizes family. He ensures that you and the kids know that you’re his number one priority, making time for family dinners, vacations, and just spending quality time together.
Clayton Beresford who propritazed your time together. His kids were important but you were more important. So, regularly he hired a babysitter (a trusted one), and took you out on dates (or on a vacation but then your parents took care of the children) so you could focus on each other and on the bond you share without screaming kids
Tumblr media
Clayton Beresford ho didn't mind making you pregnant again (if you even wanted to be pregnant again);
"Fill this beautiful cunt with my seed once more?" He growled, plunging back into you with a single powerful thrust that made you both cry out in pleasure "you want that love? Be pregnant again?"
Tumblr media
TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @ysrjune (sad about her not being her anymore..) @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @fuckmyskywalker @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex
(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)
450 notes · View notes
johnleeswife · 5 months ago
Text
Mephisto
Tumblr media
Pairing : Sylus x reader
Context : Inspire by Sylus “Crow” voice call
Warning : None
It’s been a day ‘Mephisto’ in your home. You don’t know why Sylus sent Mephisto to your house. You are not in danger, not in a difficult situation, and you are surely not in a position to be spied on. But here you and Mephisto are staring at each other silently. “Are you going to be here until Sylus tells you to go?”, Mephisto answers with his crow voice. “Fine… Sylus said I can order you around so… I’m not holding back”, Mephisto seemed taken aback by what you said and made a sad noise.
At first, you make Mephisto do something simple like switch on and off lights, open the curtain in the morning, etc. Then you realize that he can project a small screen, oh boy what a life safer he is. You make him report the weather in the morning before you go to work, showing you the recipe of your current viral food that you try to make and you make him show you a list of current hit songs. Yes, you make him play the songs.
Slowly, you begin liking Mephisto by your side. You won't feel lonely when you come back from work and he make your dream come true to have a pet that you don’t have to worry he’ll die because of your lack of care. He accompanies you during your study, cooking, cleaning, everything. Suddenly he disappears and you start to worry. Then you hear a knock on your door.
It’s Sylus behind the door, you welcome him and invite him inside. “It’s your day off right? Let’s hang out”. You still amaze by how he knows everything about you. “Yes… but Mephisto is missing, we have to find him”
“Don’t worry about him, he is a big boy, he’ll do fine”
“Do you make him go out to mission?”
“No, things get better these days and I don’t need him for the time being”
“I’m starting to worry him”
“He’ll be fine, come on, get dressed and we’ll go out”
You and Sylus heading to a supermarket that surprisingly you always go to. “You need milk, cereal, eggs, and cheese and you're out of softener”. You stop walking and stare at him unbelievably. “What the hell Sylus how do you know all of that?”
“You wouldn’t wanna know sweetie”
“The he-”. You unconsciously raise your voice, making everybody in the store look at you. Sylus just walks down the aisle and smirks at you, leaving you behind.
After that, you two go back to your home. Of course, Sylus is the one who paid everything, you didn’t hold him back too. When you arrive at your home, Sylus starts unpacking the groceries and then puts them in the cupboard like he’s living here. You feel a chill down your spine if you think of it. “I think you have all the ingredients to make that viral food. Do you want to try to make that?” Sylus then asked.
“Oh yeah, I do. Mephisto can you-”, you almost forgot that Mephisto is missing. “Sylus, I still worry about Mephisto. Do you really don’t know where he is? Don’t you have some kind of remote to monitor him?”
Sylus stops whatever he is doing and faces you. “Really now? He’ll be fine. Aren’t you hungry? Come on let me cook you something”. Something strikes Sylus today that he treats you well, you wonder what it is. After Sylus is done cooking, you two eat together in your living room while watching a movie. Your mood doesn’t light up a little, even with Sylus’s cooking.
“I still worry about him Sylus”
“Why are you making a fuss about him now? Didn’t you don’t like him before?”
“Well he’s kinda great company, I didn’t realize that I was lonely until he came”
Sylus places his point finger on his forehead and looks at you. “Do you feel lonely right now? Let me remind you that I was behind him all this time”
You turn around to face him. “But you not him, he doesn’t bark like you”
“You like a submissive man I see. As you wish, I’ll become like one for you” Sylus makes a smirk face and places his head on your lap. You are shocked to see Sylus on your lap, adding that Sylus snuggles his face on your stomach and puts his hand behind your back. Now you can’t move because of him.
Knock sound on your window, you see Mephisto knocking on your window. “Mephisto! Sylus, Mephisto is back!”. As you want to open the window, Sylus’s hand wraps around you tighter. “Sylus, I can’t move”.
“He has his sharing, now let me have mine”
“What are you talking about?”
“Mine…”. You sigh defeated. So childish. Let's just say the rest of the day, Sylus is not letting you go and Mephisto just flying out site your place. You feel sorry for Mephisto.
Tumblr media
839 notes · View notes
tootiecakes234 · 1 year ago
Text
First “I love you” from Katsuki
Katsuki has been your boyfriend for about 3 months now and it was going great.
You guys were in the store doing his weekly grocery shopping.
“Since we are doing the work of grocery shopping right now, it means we can’t do the work of cooking when we get home Katsuki. We have to stop and get take out on the way home. It’s girl math”, you were explaining to him.
“What kinda dumb shit reasoning is that? The fuck is a girl math?”
He was walking at a brisk pace because he has a list of what he needs and that’s all he’s in here for. Katsuki does not like aimlessly scrolling and shopping. Perfect for you because you got anxiety in the grocery store.
“So you don’t actually watch all the TikTok’s I send you?? So you don’t actually care about me?” You were looking at him with a fake pout on your face to support your teasing.
“You send me 50 fucking videos at one time! I can’t watch every single one of them. I don’t have enough time in my day.”
“Wow! So you’re breaking up with me?? I can’t believe this”
Katsuki no longer entertains you. He just keeps walking and picking up the things he needs.
“I can’t believe our time together has come to an end. I really thought we could’ve been something.”
He continues to ignore you and starts heading for the register having finished checking off his list.
“You forgot to get your protein powder. You used the last of it this morning in your smoothie.” You told him before he actually got in line.
“Fuck, I forgot. I didn’t add it to my list.”, he mumbled looking at you like he was a shocked you’d noticed.
“Go ahead and get in line and I’ll go grab it. You like the peanut butter one right?”
“Uh… yea.”
You leave and go grab the powder and by the time you get back he’s almost done checking out. He pays and you guys head out to his car.
You help him unload everything and then hop in your seat while he puts up the cart. When he gets inside you’re scrolling on your phone while waiting.
You look up at him and smile.
“You promised I could control the music on the way home. Get prepared for non stop break up songs to cope with us being over.”
He looks you in your eyes and the words just kinda tumble out of his mouth, “ Y’know I love you right?”
Your mouth falls open a little and your eyes are stretched wide open. You can’t believe he just said that!? He’s never said that to you before.
It takes you a few seconds before your find words to use, “So we aren’t breaking up?”
Katsuki actually chuckles at you before he leans in and presses his lips softly against yours.
When he pulls back he asks you, “so where are we getting takeout from?”
The grin on your face is huge as you both get situated and buckle yourselves in.
As he starts driving you look over at him and you can see the little smile sitting on his lips.
“Y’know I love you too right?” You say mocking him.
“Obviously. I’m fucking amazing” he says all confidently even though there’s a deep blush settling in over his face.
Katsuki Masterlist
2K notes · View notes