#i love her i forgot to share this earlier

[daydreams-after-dark]

Free Use Jail Cell, Part 6

MDNI // 18+ content

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Police Officer Skz ot8 x female reader

Premise: you're arrested and held for 24 hours by 8 police officers at the local police station / reader has her fantasy play out.

Word Count: 3.8k approx (part 6)

Chapter Summary: You are at the mercy of Chief Chan and Officer Felix.

A/n: The time has come! Finally the Aussies have their way with y/n. I know so many of you have been hanging out for this chapter, sending messages and comments, and I'm so excited to share it with you. I know it was a long time coming.

Two things I need to mention, though. The first, I forgot Minho was a detective in the last chapter and called him 'officer' (do you think he'd be a dear and punish me for my mistake?), and two, I mentioned his clothes got soaked in the shower, but nothing about him changing into dry clothes. Let’s just pretend he did.

CW below the cut.

CW: where do I start? Frisking innapropriately, vaginal and anal fingering, photographing of injuries, pinching a nipple, spanking with a belt, handcuffs, bloody lip, hole inspection, crude language about how swollen and how much it's going to hurt, spit roasting, oral sex (m rec), cum eating, cream pie, size kink, name calling (cockslut, whore, babygirl, good girl etc, multiple orgasms, brief breeding kink, rough sex, soft dom moments from Chan and Felix, double vaginal penetration, color system (all green for go ahead), aftercare, angst (you'll see why).

>>>>>>>>

The time arrives for you to finally visit the chief and one his officers, Felix.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Minho says as he does up the last button on the oversized shirt he’d helped you into.

You nod. You’re ready, but nervous.

“Now, remember your color system, your safe word. You don’t have to do anything you don—“ he stops abruptly, coughing awkwardly as he realizes he sounds far too concerned than he should.

Flustered, he clenches his hands into fists and steps back from you.

Again, just like earlier, your heart flutters for just a brief moment, and you swallow hard. You can’t understand it. This is definitely not the context to be feeling things.

Detective Minho walks close to your side as you make your way to the Chief’s office, a protective hand on your lower back.

“Just knock and wait for them to answer.” He says stopping at the door. “Make sure you’re a good girl for them, okay?” He leans in to your ear. “I can’t wait to feel you again later.” Your eyes widen and your cunt clenches, but he walks away like he said nothing at all.

Knock knock.

You tap on the door and wait.

You only have to wait a brief moment before the door opens and you see Office Lee. Felix. He gives you a big, beautiful smile and ushers you into the office.

You’re taken by surprise when you’re immediately spun around and your chest is pressed against the wall beside the door.

“Gotta frisk you, love.” Officer Felix says sweetly. His hands are firm and deliberate as he pats over your shoulders and arms, the down the sides of your body.

“You’ll need to step a little wider, please.” He whispers in your ear.

You part your legs and his hand immediately drags up your inner thigh to cup your pussy, sending tingles through your body. You lean your head against the wall and let out a shaky breath.

“Need to do the internal now.” He says low and slips a finger deep into your heat. You squeak at the intrusion, but it turns to a low moan when he slowly drags his finger in and out of you. His fingers are expert, knowing exactly where that sweet spot is inside you. You rock back against his fingers and moan again.

“Hmm,” he says, “looks like you’re hiding a lot of creaminess here.” He reaches around, offering his cream-coated finger to your mouth. You open and let him slip it inside, pressing it against your tongue, and you suck it willingly.

“Now for the other pretty hole.” There’s a strain in his voice as he snakes his other hand underneath your shirt to find your ass. You whimper around the finger in your mouth as he presses his other against your hole.

The ring of muscle offers little resistance, and the tip of his finger pushes past the rim. Your eyes squeeze tight and your hands press into the wall to steady yourself as he begins to press his finger in further. Although your ass has already had plenty of things done to it in the last twenty four hours, the stretch still feels like a sweet mix of pleasure and pain.

With two fingers scissoring your ass, and a few shoved into your mouth, you’re on the brink of coming. You know that somewhere in the room Chief Chan is watching, even though you didn’t get a chance to see where he was.

Your moans are muffled from Felix’s fingers, and your cunt is leaking arousal down your inner thighs. You feel like a mess and they haven’t even started yet.

Your legs tremble as your pussy clenches around nothing, and you come, pathetically, just like that.

Felix removes all his fingers from your ass and your mouth, and wipes them on your shirt. “Good girl. Now we need to take photos. Come.” He grabs your arm and guides you to turn around.

This is the first time you see the room. It really does look like a Police Chief’s office, with a long, low coffee table surrounded by armchair couches.

At the far end of the room is a large timber desk, and sitting on the edge of the desk is the Chief. Chief Chan.

“Y/n.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling, his expression devilish. “Now you’re going to be a good little prisoner for us, yeah?” He stands up only to take a seat in the couch at the head of the coffee table. “Gonna let Officer Lee here take some good photos of your injuries?”

He settles into his chair. “Strip.” He commands.

Your hands tremble as you unbutton your shirt and let it fall to the floor, leaving you bare for them.

“Fuck.” Chan mutters under his breath. “So perfect.” He swallows hard. “Felix, get started.”

Felix pulls a set of handcuffs from his belt and secures them around your wrists in front of you. “I need you on all fours on the coffee table. Ass towards the Chief. He needs to see all of you.”

You climb onto the table, positioning yourself so Chan can see everything. He lets out a low hum, when he sees the red welts on your ass cheeks.

Felix retrieves a camera from a drawer to the side of the room, and begins to photograph and take note of your injuries.

“Those red welts would be from the paddling she received in the interrogation.” Felix says. Click. Click. “And this cut on her neck, was from Jeongin in the shower.” Click. Click. “Note, there’s also some minor marks on her wrists from various restraints.

“What about her nipples?” Chief Chan interrupts.

“Up on your knees, I need to check.” You rise to your knees and Felix reaches out to stroke your nipple, causing you to shudder under his touch.

“They’re a little bruised.” He tweaks the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then pulls away to take a photograph.

You look down at your nipples to see they are in fact bruised. You hadn’t realized how hard Minho and Seungmin had those clamps attached.

Felix continues to examine your body, photographing any marks or bruises he finds along the way.

“Chief. Would you like to do the honors? Y/n, back on your hands and knees. Its time for your ‘hole inspection’.”

Fuck! The words ‘hole inspection’ hit you straight in the pussy.

“Of course. Pass me your torch. Spread her ass wide for me.” Chan says gruffly, his tone laced with arousal.

You sense Chief Chan moving behind you, and the click of the torch. With a hand on each of your cheeks, Felix spreads you wide so you’re on display. You feel a surge of heat wash over you. You’re excited, aroused, and so fucking nervous. You’re loving being vulnerable like this.

You feel a pad of a thumb on your clit, rubbing harsh circles on it. You lean your head on the table, trying your hardest not to whimper. It’s difficult though. Especially how they’re talking about you like you’re nothing but a fuck toy.

“Fucking hell, Felix. Look at how used her cunt looks.” Felix leans in for a closer look, while Chan jams a finger inside your pussy. “Her lips are swollen. So red. Rubbed raw.” He says incredulously. “Chief? How’s she gonna take both our cocks. She looks too swollen.”

“Don’t worry, Lixie. We’ll make them fit. Every inch of us both.” Chan laughs like a crazed man as he tries to spread your hole wide so can try and see inside. “Look at that! She likes the idea of it being a struggle, she’s dripping wet.”

Chan runs a finger along your wet folds, gathering your creaminess. He’s not wrong. This is one of your fantasies. Taking two huge, throbbing cocks in your tight, abused little cunt.

You bite your bottom lip, willing the intrusive thoughts about how sick you must be away, and instead try to remember Detective Minho’s words. “You’re not a sick freak”.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when a loud harsh slap of a belt lands on your skin, hitting you where you were still tender from the paddling.

The sting is almost unbearable, and you bite down on your lip so hard you taste blood.

Another hit with the belt has you crying out, and the third strike has you sobbing loudly.

The fourth lands on your swollen pussy lips, and your knees buckle, causing you slip and land on your stomach.

Chief Chan doesn’t care, and he keeps landing more hits with the belt on your ass.

Felix gently pushes your hair off the side of you face and leans in, kissing your cheek gently.

“Remember you can use your safe word. What color are we on?” He stokes your back awaiting your answer.

Chan pauses his ministrations.

“G-g-green.” You sob. “P-please….need to c-come.” You begin to bawl your eyes out.

“Shh… it’s okay. We’ll take care of you.” Felix reassures you, continuing to stoke your back, and Chan rubs your cheeks gently, before landing three more strikes to your sore ass.

“Time to make the Chief feel good.” Says Felix. “Then we can make you feel good, yeah”. He helps you up but doesn’t uncuff you.

He turns you to face Chan who has resumed his seat in the armchair. He appears to like what he sees. You with tear streaks all down your face, and a bloody lip that’s beginning to drip down your chin, it seems to have an effect on him.

He exhales sharply, his jaw clenched and fists in tight balls on the chair arms. You know he’s going to absolutely enjoy this.

“Come. Down on your knees for the Chief.”

You kneel between Chan’s widespread legs and look up it him through your eyelashes. He leans down and wipes your lip, smearing blood across your face.

“You seem to enjoy pain.” He says low, cupping your cheek. You stare at him wide eyed, holding your breath. “Which is lucky, cos you should have seen your cunt just now. I promised Officer Felix we’d make it fit, but I’m not so sure you’re gonna be able to take it without it hurting.”

You gulp.

“Now,” His grip on your jaw tightens. “I need you to put this pretty little mouth to good use while Felix tries to pry you open a bit, yeah?”

He leans back in the chair waiting for you to begin.

You can already see he is big just from the bulge in his trousers, and when you release it from its confines you can’t help but gasp at the sight.

Enormous. So many thick, pulsing veins, and it's heavy. So fucking heavy looking.

You hold it tentatively in your still cuffed hands, giving it an experimental pump. He hisses loudly when you lean down and lick the slit of his cock head.

“I think you can do better than that.” He growls and grabs a fist full of hair on the back of your head, pushing you down over his length.

He pushes you too deep and you gag loudly around him. But he simply chuckles at your struggle and holds you there.

Felix positions himself behind you, kneeling and pressing his cock to your entrance. He holds your hips steady with one hand and pushes into you. Chan was right, you are swollen, and it is a big stretch just to accept the tip.

Chan loosens his grip on your hair, giving you the opportunity to show him what a good little girl you can be.

You sink back over his shaft, relaxing your throat to take him just that little bit more. He groans in approval and rests his head back on the couch.

Felix fills you inch by inch. It stings, yet it feels so satisfying to be stretched open. You groan, the vibrations from your mouth making Chan shudder.

Felix slams the last of his length inside you, taking you by surprise and making you choke on Chan’s cock.

He then thrusts slowly, allowing you to concentrate on pleasing Chan, but every drag of his cock inside you is bringing you closer and closer to another orgasm.

“I wish all pussies were this compliant.” Felix laughs. “This one’s opening up perfectly.”

He rolls his hips a few times, grinding against you deliciously, then snaps his hips hard, hitting your cervix brutally. He alternates between these actions, driving you crazy, sending you closer and closer to the edge.

Chan lets you do all the work on his cock, watching you drool all over it sloppily. Sucking, licking, gagging. You take as much as you possibly can into your throat. You use your hands where you can’t reach with your mouth. Every now and then he pushes your head down a little more, testing your limits.

“Fuck! She’s so tight, Chief. You wanna feel her? I’d love to come in her mouth if I’m allowed?” He thrusts into you hard. “I’m so close.”

“Mmm, yes, let me fill her little cunt with my cum, you fill her mouth.” Chan agrees.

You’re abruptly emptied of both penises and directed to straddle Chan on the couch with one foot on either side of him, and your back against his chest. He hooks his arms under your thighs and with Felix guiding Chan’s cock to your entrance, you’re lowered onto his length.

You whimper as your body stretches to accommodate him as he continues to fill you bit by bit.

You’re too full. There’s no way in hell you’re going to fit both of them at once.

Eventually, your ass meets his hips and you’re fully impaled on him.

“Fuck, yes. Such a good, tight, filthy cunt.” Growls Chan and he rolls his hips up against you while pulling you down as hard as he can.

You cry out.

“Shh now. Here.” Felix rubs the tip of his leaking cock against your check. You turn your head and open up to take him. He fucks your mouth a lot rougher than he fucked your cunt, pushing himself deeper and deeper into your throat on every thrust. It only takes a few minutes for him to cum down your throat with a pretty moan, his head thrown back.

It makes you clench hard around Chan. “Babygirl likes a belly full of cum? Good, cos she’s gonna be fed a whole lot when all the officers take her at once.” He says, pounding into you from below.

“Open up, love. Show me your empty mouth. That’s it. Good girl.” Felix is pleased when you stick out your tongue and show him just how hungry you are.

He removes the the remainder of his clothes and starts to fist his cock, working on getting it hard again.

Chan stands up, pushing you off his cock and laying you onto the coffee table unceremoniously. He folds you in half, pushing your legs up and then absolutely rams himself into you over and over.

The cold hard wood underneath you is uncomfortable on your back as you’re being fucked into it.

“You like this? You fucking little whore? Hmm? Love having a fat cock filling you up like this?” He leans down and kisses you. It’s unexpected, but you welcome it. It’s rough and harsh, just like his cock, and the pressure inside you becomes too much.

He pulls away and you look down to see just how thick and long he is, and how much he stretches and fills you. Your engorged, pink lips enveloping him as your cunt sucks him in. You whimper as your body starts to shake, and with a loud cry, you drench his cock, clenching around it, coming hard.

“That’s our girl. Yeah milk me. Milk Channie’s huge cock!” He demands as his eyes scrunch tight and he lets out an animalistic growl as he coats your insides.

He pulls away, panting, sweating, exhausted, and removes his clothes hastily.

Felix is quick to photograph the cum leaking out of you and you hold your legs up to ensure he gets a good view.

“So perfect.” He approves and sets the camera aside. “Y/n. It’s time. Let’s change positions.” He smiles and uncuffs your hands and helping you to your feet.

Chan produces a blanket from a drawer and spreads it out on the coffee table. He lays down on it and instructs you to straddle him.

Holding his cock steady, he pushes inside your still leaking cunt once again. It’s an impossibly tight squeeze, especially after your orgasm, but somehow he manages to fill you to the hilt. You both exhale sharply when he lifts you slightly and pulls you back down again.

“Come here, lean on me.” He invites you to lay against his chest and he wraps his arms around you. “You’re already choking me. I’m not sure I’m going to survive this.” He whispers against your ear.

He fucks you slowly for a few minutes, grinding up into you over and over. Meanwhile, Felix caresses your body, stroking your back, your ass and presses kisses along your back. He spreads your cheeks and curses low at what he sees.

You’re melting under their softer approach, which you know is all part of them relaxing you for what’s about to come.

“That’s it. Good girl.” Cooes Chan.

“Feels s'good.” You mumble.

“Yeah? You ready to take Officer Felix? Think you can do that for us?” He purrs.

You nod against his shoulder. “Wanna be a good girl.” You whimper.

Chan chuckles. “Yeah? I know you’re gonna be. You’re gonna take Felix like a good little cockslut.”

You feel Felix behind you, positioning himself. “Fuck, Chan.” Felix says uncertainly. “She looks so full already.”

“She’s okay, Lix. She’ll take you no matter what. Let’s fuck her brains out. Tear up her pussy.”

You moan and clench around Chan. You’re certain this man could make you come just with his filthy mouth.

You let out a low groan as Felix presses the tip of his cock at your entrance alongside Chan.

“F-fuck!” You cry when his tip pushes past the opening. “S’too much.” You pant.

“Color?” Chan says sternly.

“G-green. J-just slow, please! Slow.”

Chan holds you with one hand around your back, the other gently holding your ass, pulling the cheek aside to help give Felix access. “You guide us, yeah?”

“You ready to try for more?” Felix asks, a kindness in his voice. The man seems so kind, so considerate. You want to have him inside you too.

“Yes…more.” You pant.

Slowly, and under your direction, Felix squeezes in next to Chan. “So tight. Chan, how are you holding up?”

Chan’s voice is shaky when he answers. “M’not gonna last, mate. Pussy’s too good.”

“More…please…make me take it. Wannabe a good girl! Wanna come on two cocks. Just fuck me!” You ramble and nuzzle against Chan.

The stretch is nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Your walls are stretched further than they have ever been, and they’re so deep inside you, owning you, making you theirs.

You begin to drool, as they take turns withdrawing and thrusting in a beautiful rhythm.

The men growl and grunt as they work together, eventually deciding that instead of one thrust in while the other withdraws, they are going to thrust in at the same time.

“Oh god! Fuck!” You wail.

The both laugh at your reaction, pleased with themselves.

“Harder! More!” You demand. You need them to really give it to you like they promised.

“Make it hurt!”

Their reaction tells you it is music to their ears to hear that.

“Ready, Lix? You heard her. Babygirl wants it to hurt.”

You almost regret it straight away. Felix’s fingers dig into your hips hard, and Chan digs his feet into the table for leverage.

Together they don’t hold back, fucking you brutally. You feel like your cunt is about to split into two. It’s stretched to its limits, yet it craves more. Frantically, you seek more friction, more depth and your body automatically pushes back down against them seeking more.

Lewd sounds fill the office. Sweaty skin slapping skin. Moans, whimpers and curses of ‘fuck’. Then there’s the wet sounds of your pussy. It’s all so dirty and filthy.

You feel yourself so close to your another orgasm, and when both men move a finger to your ass, you know you’re a goner.

“Think you can take both our fingers?”

“Ngh…y-yes…give it to me.” You sob.

The moment you feel your rim give way, and their fingers slip inside slightly and pulling in opposite directions, stretching your hole wide, your body shakes uncontrollably, and you come hard with a sound that can only be described something raw, something primal.

“Fuck! You feel that?” Cries Felix, slamming into you as hard as he can.

“Y-yeah! Fuck, she’s gonna suck us dry. So tight…. Fuuuuck!!” He groans as he cums, releasing himself deep in you. “That's it, let us breed you like a bitch in heat. Gonna take Lixie’s cum too? Mmm yeah? Gonna suck the cum out of him with your tight, hungry little cunt?”

“Mmhmm… yess…need his cum too.”

“Wanna be bred, yeah?”

“Y-yes….please. Please. Need it.” You’re dribbling all over Chan’s chest, mumbling in confusion. It all feels so overwhelmingly incredible. So good you’re going to -

“I’m fucking coming again!” You cry, clamping down around the the two men.

“Oh fuck! Gonna give you my cum. Gonna-”

Felix’s hips falter as he cums, filling you so much that it begins to seep out around both cocks.

He slips out of your tired pussy, and you already feel far too empty, and then Chan pulls out too making you sob at the loss.

“You okay?” Felix wraps a blanket around you and Chan produces warm towels to clean you up.

You nod and smile, although you’re also bawling your eyes out from how euphoric the experience felt. “It was so good. Thank you for being so…considerate. You know, letting me set the pace. As you know, that was my first time.”

“Of course.” Chan kneels down in front of you. “We take our roles very seriously. Our client’s needs are our top priority.” He wipes a tear away. “Now. You need to stay here and rest. Felix will bring you food. And if you are still up for it, we will commence the final request of yours as soon as you're good to go."

>>>>

Minho listens from the other side of the door. That’s right, you’re a client. Nothing more.

He sighs.

Then why did he listen to that entire interaction? Why did he feel like he needed to make sure they didn’t take things too far with you? Or that they would honor your safe word?

He knows Chan and Felix wouldn’t do anything you weren’t comfortable with, yet he stood there, fists clenched, listening to you whimpering? Waiting for an excuse to barge in there.

Fuck! He cards his fingers through his hair.

Why did he feel jealous when he heard the sounds that your sweet cunt made when they were inside you? Why did he want to burst in there and rip them from your body and sink himself inside you?

Why the fuck does he care so much?

He settles his mouth into a thin line. He know why, and it's absolutely not ideal. Not to mention it's against the rules of the job.

He sighs again and forces himself to walk away. He needs to figure out a way that he's going to handle watching you get gang banged, and quick.

>>>>

a/n: Oopies, someone is struggling with some feelings it seems. How did you enjoy this chapter? I really wanted to make it a longish one and really give the the Aussie their moment. Please, if you enjoyed, consider a reblog or leave a comment. I love hearing your thoughts on this series.

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@jeonginsleftcheek @meilix @itgirlalisaa @linocz @boi-bi-ahaha @frozenpeasworld @grandma143 @milkypinkmimi @bangchansbbgirl @leefelixsslut @privhace @justforreaders @galaxycatdrawz @melochacco @jiwoos-babygirl @lunearta @kavifornia @chuuyaobsessed @iadorethemskz @hyun-hwanj @courtnort455 @brimarie0512 @dwaekkicidal @kibs-and-bits @txa-r @minh0scat @the-sweet-rose @chrizzztopherbang @velvetmoonlght @youcanstayyeah @skzswife @stephanieeeyang @withnia @kibs-and-bits @kayleefriedchicken @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @ihrtlino

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin@weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @jiminssluttyminx @dool-set-net @redstayrosie @mintymintmint251 @katsukis1wife @delulustardust @eastjonowhere

[hoe4hotchner]

also this might be a weird one but could you write a story where the reader accidentally throws up on Hotch during you know what and he takes really good care of her

In Sickness and Health | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader | WC: 0.7k | CW: Vomit, the flu

A/N: I'm fairly certain I know which you know what you're talking about, and if it's the one I'm thinking about I don't write about that….. So I made reader sick with the flu instead.

It was hard to argue that things could get much worse as you curled up on your couch, shivering despite three blankets piled on top of you. The flu had hit fast and hard — harder than you'd ever experienced before.

Hotch had insisted on stopping by to check on you after you’d sounded “off” on the phone earlier, but now you almost regretted accepting his kindness. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this.

There was a gentle knock at your door, and you heard his voice just outside. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m coming in.”

Before you could croak out an answer, Hotch was already inside, his brow furrowing as he saw your bundled-up form. He was carrying a few bags from the pharmacy and some soup that smelled good enough to make your mouth water.

“I told you, you didn’t have to come,” you said, but even that small effort was enough to make your stomach flip.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He flashed you a gentle, reassuring smile and dropped his coat on a nearby chair. “I couldn’t leave you alone in this condition.” He set the bags on the coffee table, pulling out a bottle of cold medicine, a thermometer, and a box of tissues. “I thought these might help.”

You managed a weak smile. “I think I love you.”

He chuckled softly and brushed your hair back, his touch cool against your fevered forehead. “I’ll take that as the fever talking. Now, let’s get you sorted out.”

He knelt beside the couch and carefully held the thermometer under your tongue. You felt embarrassed under his watchful eye, but he was nothing but warm and reassuring, his hand never leaving yours. When the thermometer beeped, he read it with a frown. “One hundred and two. Let’s get some fluids in you.”

The soup smelled like heaven. You tried a few sips, managing to keep it down, but just as he leaned in to check your forehead again, your stomach twisted in that familiar, dreaded way.

“Aaron, I—”

But you didn’t get the words out in time. Before you knew it, you were heaving, and the soup — and whatever else was in your stomach — landed squarely on his shirt. You were mortified, eyes wide, but Aaron just blinked in mild surprise. “Oh.”

“I’m so sorry!” You groaned, feeling your cheeks burn hot with shame, despite the fever.

He was surprisingly calm, just dabbing at his shirt with a tissue from the box he’d brought over. “It’s fine. Clothes can be cleaned,” he said in that calming, matter-of-fact tone he often used at work. “But you need rest. Come on, let’s get you settled.”

He didn’t hesitate for a moment as he lifted you up, blankets and all, and carried you to your bedroom. You felt the blush creeping up as he set you down on your bed, adjusting the covers to make sure you were warm. Even in your fevered state, it was hard not to be acutely aware of his gentle touch, the way his hands brushed against you so carefully.

He quickly changed into one of his t-shirts that he'd left at your place — leaving his soiled dress shirt in the bathroom — and then came back with a cool washcloth. “This’ll help with the fever,” he said, dabbing it gently against your forehead, cheeks, and neck. His hands were steady, his gaze so soft that you almost forgot the embarrassment.

“You’re… really good at this,” you managed to say, voice muffled by exhaustion.

He chuckled. “I’ve had my fair share of sick days with Jack.”

You smiled weakly. “Thank you, Aaron. Really. I’m sorry about… you know.”

His fingers brushed against your forehead again, tucking a strand of hair away. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m right where I want to be.”

With him by your side, you felt yourself start to drift off, lulled by the soothing rhythm of his voice. As you slipped into sleep, you swore you felt his lips press softly against your forehead, his whispered promise lingering in the air:

“Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[innergoateesong]

The Only Exception ~ Vivianne Miedema

hey 👋, this is my first fanfic and i’m not too sure on it. i’ve been reading the ones on tumblr for about a year so hopefully i’ve gained some knowledge.

This is my work, kinda just made it up as i went. Hope it all makes sense and you enjoy it if you choose to read it. I’m open to feedback and any suggestions on how to improve or any fic recommendations. Thank you.

This is a song fic based off the song The Only Exception by Paramore. Mainly a fluffy fic with a tiny bit of angst dusted in the cracks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I was younger, I saw my daddy cry And curse at the wind

I’ve always been an angry person, i don’t allow myself to feel anything but anger. The tears that have ever slipped my whole life have not been from pain, only anger.

He broke his own heart and I watched As he tried to reassemble it

Childhood was tough, but isn’t everybody’s? I’ve always had the view of the world that doesn’t include me. Almost as if i feel i don’t deserve to have emotions and i’m just going through life on autopilot.

And my momma swore That she would never let herself forget

I didn’t grow up with family role models, i barely saw my parents and i never knew either of there families, my life was myself, in my room with chunky headphones in or on the pitch running to get my brain quiet. Nothing quietened my brain more than the pitch.

And that was the day that I promised I'd never sing of love if it does not exist

Even after moving to london to join one of the top clubs in the top english league i hid myself away. I walked into training with tunnel vision, headphones on, no eye contact, no verbal communication. and i walked out the exact same way.

For three years.

But darling, you are the only exception You are the only exception

It probably didn’t seem like it to my teammates but i really liked it at arsenal. My dream club. The 2018 season was when i first made some human contact. Viv started bringing my water from the cafeteria to the pitch for me. She smiled, gently. “Here, you forgot it.” “Oh cheers.” Let’s just say that wasn’t the only time i ‘forgot’ my bottle.

You are the only exception You are the only exception

I knew love wasn’t for me. I got a wee cockapoo and that was the only connection i needed. Until Viv sat next to me for breakfast one Wednesday morning. A soft grin resting on both our faces but a comfortable silence the way she must’ve known i liked it. A warm whisper appearing, “What are you listening to this morning?” “Just some silly love song.” “They’re my favourite.”

Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul That love never lasts

Now instead of an empty table with myself another seat was occupied. Breakfast was filled with faint smirks and slow songs ringing through the headphones we eventually shared, learning the tunes the other would hum along to and skipping the ones that would make them both scrunch up their noses. Before heading to the pitch where not another look is exchanged.

And we've got to find other ways to make it alone Or keep a straight face

“Oi, Viv. You and y/n have been getting close, what are they all about?” “y/n’s sweet.” Viv would glance at you in training and whenever else she got the chance but your hard facade was always held too strong for her to get to know you. Once when you got home and comfortable on the couch with Daniel, your cockapoo, there was a picture on instagram of breakfast earlier that day. Fans comments around you and Viv being an unexpected duo took over. You don’t like attention.

And I've always lived like this Keeping a comfortable distance

The next day viv was left alone. You wandered in right before training started, only having time to quickly change. A worried glance from viv was not unnoticed but definitely ignored. You had been letting her in. She was making you feel emotions you swore you never would. That training session didn’t go well. Everyone had seen you taking the game seriously but this was another level, Jonas even sent you in early with Steph to hopefully calm you down. After a rant to Steph about hating the frustration you felt you went to the gym to run. Running gets the anger out.

And up until now I had sworn to myself That I'm content with loneliness

This routine continued. Unfortunately leading to being taken out of the starting eleven and even sometimes getting taken out of the match day squad altogether. You weren’t an international player yet, the coach still wanted the older, more experienced players on their team. The international break closest to christmas brought viv the courage to chat to you. She had an injury so the netherlands had to play without her, leaving her with the few players left. Including y/n.

Because none of it was ever worth the risk

She spoke. You listened. It sounded like she actually cared, she wanted into your mind, she wanted you to open up. You did. Punching walls, tears streaming, voice raising. You went all out. Then she took you home, home to your safety where you automatically resumed your place under a blanket left on the couch from the day before. Viv took her place, lifting your feet onto her lap and giving them a slight massage over the blanket. Daniel raced to sit on your stomach happy to snooze off right there.

But you are the only exception You are the only exception

“Nobody’s ever been in this house apart from me and daniel. I’m glad it’s you who is here.” Although the dramatics of the morning were still clawing at the back of y/n’s mind, she was so glad it ended up in viv being introduced to her safe space. “Would you like to chat?” “I might fall asleep but i’m willing to listen to you?” And that’s how they dozed off together to Viv’s light mumbling about all she could think of.

You are the only exception You are the only exception

Listening to the sad songs through shared headphones was a magical experience but when Viv started playing them on the drive to and from work everyday on the car speakers you felt as though you were in dreamland. In the car Viv would sing along to some choruses and y/n would even let out a few hums here and there. The silent bond they had created meant the world to both of them and they both knew it but it was never said out loud. Things started to change when they carpooled together every single day.

I've got a tight grip on reality But I can't let go of what's in front of me here

We were in it together. Whenever y/n started to pull away viv’s grip on them would tighten, when viv’s injury set her back slightly y/n brought her up to breathe in some type of distraction. They started spending meals together, more than just breakfast. They’d go out for dinner or have a nice lunch at one of their homes. They’d usually end up together on a couch to see through the night, making it easier to carpool was their excuse to stay. When Viv got better and was allowed on the plane home to the netherlands on christmas eve it was a hard moment.

I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream

Waking up to viv leaving was hard. I stayed still in bed as she got changed and put her suitcase to the door. A quick, dainty pair of lips were placed to my forehead as i flickered awake. “Please don’t go it’s cold out there.” y/n whined as a weak chuckle left Viv’s mouth. “My flight is at 6, i’ll message you when i land. Merry christmas princess.” with one last hug and a pat on the head to daniel viv swiftly grabbed the rough handle of her suitcase and made it out the door.

You are the only exception You are the only exception

Waking up to snow made you almost the happiest you had been for a while. A tinge pulling on your heart at the fact someone was no longer resting on the other side of the bed. You always yearned for a white christmas but this was daniels first time even seeing snow and you knew viv would not be happy if you didn’t at least film it for her to see. So as you got wrapped up in a big cozy jumper and viv’s huge coat that she had left behind you got your phone out and started to ring her. “Hoi lieverd.” “Good morning Vivvy,” y/n said as she turned the camera to face Daniel jumping at the door. “It’s his first snow encounter, we wanted you to witness it.” The door swings open and the wee cockapoo goes running. That call lasted over two hours. They were ready to fight the toughness that came with distance.

You are the only exception You are the only exception

When did y/n finally admit feelings for Viv? As soon as they picked Viv up from the airport. It was a silent look and a quick peck that sealed the deal. No words other than an, “i missed you” were spoken, just the way they like it.

You are the only exception You are the only exception

Being with Viv almost full time for months showed y/n that Viv is quite the yapper. She can chat about football, recipes, her family, travelling, and even y/n herself for hours and hours on end. Breakfasts at training did not include headphones anymore unless it was a particularly hard day, instead the two were often caught chattering among eachother by teammates. They even started to invite a couple teammates to sit with them every now and then. Unfortunately they had to make the decision that Daniel was getting too big to sleep in their bed with them anymore so they bought him his own to put on the floor next to the shoe rack and he would be allowed in for ten minute cuddles every morning.

You are the only exception You are the only exception

Viv came into my life when i needed a lot of fixing. I am incredibly grateful for the way our connection turned me around. That christmas alone was tough but now with Vivvy i know i shouldn’t have to have another like that. I feel exceptionally lucky for her to accept me and how she makes me feel happy to fully give myself to her.

And I'm on my way to believing

Oh, and I'm on my way to believing.

Love isn’t such a horrible idea anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ sorry for the rushed ending but i hope this helps fills a bit of the gap in viv fics (we need moreee)

Thank you so much for reading 💃

[spacerockband]

crocodile butch

[napping-sapphic]

tbh we need to buy matching stuffed animals to send each other pictures of whenever we are apart

[nerosdayinanime]

Sanemi & Giyuu were about 16-17 when they both individually went on an undercover mission in the Kaze no Kuni capital city, they henged/disguised as fake personas Kazura (vaguely derived from kaze, wind) and Nakuu ('to lose')

Kazura is supposed to be darker skinned + two-toned eyes like that of Kazan no Kuni descendants & is sensible and confident but lazy, Nakuu has a hairstyle + facial shape from Mizu no Kuni & an outgoing enthusiastic and pretty sly personality

Giyuu put some particular effort into his disguise and really got into the character he was playing up, he also had fun with it where he could- and thats how he met Kazura. i dont have or really want specifics of why where how or such bc it ruins the imaginative bit of it ig? but while they were on the mission they were meeting up, they both knew the other was disguised but neither pried about it. they fell in love a bit, however it means, but as Nakuu's namesake they were never going to last. it was a mission and when it was done they would leave for home and never meet again.

but then they did :)

at 19 sanemi and giyuu had a political marriage arranged(forced) by Kyogo being a greedy fuck and wanting more trade from the Tomioka, in both the Happy & Broken marriage paths giyuu's the one who notices sanemi acting the same way as kazura in some ways and realizes the two are one in the same. In the Happy marriage its a thought that brings a smile to his face and a jest about how they fell in love twice, in the Broken marriage its only twice the heartbreak after the apathy sanemi regards him with and the loneliness that consumes him

[2tarbell]

more trailer park!rafe drabbles i beg

maybe something with crybaby!reader too, like he comes home from a long ass day and she’s crying over the silliest thing ever.

but of course he makes her feel better.

love ur writing smm !!

he knew he was in for it when he came home and she wasn’t waiting patiently for him. if he didn’t know any better, rafe would assume the quaint trailer was empty — but the call you shared earlier on his lunch break detailed your plans around the house for the day, so there was no fuckin’ reason for it be as quiet as it was.

his confusion turned to concern when he heard little sniffles and sobs coming from the bathroom. rafe dropped his keys in the bowl and hurried off further into the trailer, in search of his girl.

pushing the bathroom door open with a rough hand, his mind went to the worst places when he saw her crumpled up on the floor. instantly he scooped her up onto the counter. his voice was a flurry of sounds she couldn’t decipher through her tears. the warm cadence she’s become so familiar with instantly providing some relief.

“hey, hey, baby — look at me, you hurt?” his hands are moving fast, holding her cheeks and checking for any injuries to that beautiful face.

she could only shake her head, hiccuping and trying to speak between sobs.

“rafe— dad— daddy—“

he hums and looks over her body. blue eyes checking off a list of what’s ‘normal’. when he finds nothing bleeding or falling off — that intense gaze finds hers, urging her to calm down.

his voice cooed, low and rumbly in a way that always soothes her, “shh, dad’s here, what happened? hm? someone — someone do somethin’ t’you or—“

“muh — my nails!” she interrupted, voice a petulant mumble.

rafe froze, mouth agape and eyes blinking in confusion. he looked down and took her smaller hands in his. turning them over and feeling the smooth skin. no cuts, no bruises—

the fact that he didn’t immediately know what she was talking about sends her into another spiral. yanking her hands from his and covering her eyes as sobs shook her shoulders.

“okay, okay, can’t help if you’re cryin’. talk t’me— what about your nails, honey?”

she sniffs and thrusts them in his face, rafe now seeing something out of the ordinary — chipped baby blue polish.

“wanted— wanted to paint them f’you. ‘cuz— ‘cuz s’the same color as your eyes but forgot they weren’t dry yet so i tried to make dinner and— and i ruined them!”

everyday the universe was testing his patience.

a sharp sigh out of his nose and rafe let his head fall forward. relief and disbelief pooled in his chest. she was this worked up over nail polish?

a low grumble of her name ceased her tears until they were just little sniffles of sadness. any other person and rafe would’ve been out the door with a specific finger showing his annoyance. but this was his person, his precious girl, and if she was this worked up over nail polish — he was going to indulge her. he picked up his head, eyes tired from a long days work but soft in a way meant just for her. he spoke in that way that makes her all fuzzy for him.

“jesus christ, that’s— yeah, okay. baby, ‘m— ‘m sorry. y’just wanted t’do somethin’ sweet f’dad, yeah?”

hook, line, and sinker. reader huffed and nodded as she leaned forward into his chest. her little gasps punctuated his cooing. within minutes, she was putty in his arms, nuzzling closer and closer. rafe littered kisses over her hair, gently rocking her until her head lifted off his chest. wet cheeks and a red nose greeted him and he couldn’t stop the adoring coo from falling out as he wiped her face.

“thereee you are— my sweet girl… better now?”

she nodded at his words, almost hypnotized by the gentle tone of his voice. a little hiccup fell out when she caught sight of her messy nails, but rafe quickly shushed her.

“shh, no more cryin’. y’gotta be a big girl, a’ight? c’mon, whaddaya need?”

she wished she had a picture of this big man patiently painting and blowing on her nails — that matched his eyes.

[makeupbychio]

divorce? hell nah // logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

Summary: You’d been fighting a lot with your husband Logan lately over pointless stuff, so Laura is worried about the future of her parent’s relationship. So are you.

Warnings: stupid fights, cursing, angst, reader dealing with depression, Logan being the best daddy and husband. Mentions of anxiety, family and work drama. Laura being your daughter so found family. Happy ending, mentions of smut.

Words: 2.5k.

A/N: Once again, a reminder that english is not my first language so I’m sorry if there is a mistake. This takes place in the world of Logan (2017) but everyone’s fine of course, let’s pretend that no one is dy1ng and you adopted Laura. I had a dream about this so enjoy, I wrote it so fast before I forgot it. Love y’all! <3 ALSO, you can read this with my previous Logan fic TRAINING SEASON, this is them in the future.

italics = past.

— — —

“Logan we need to stop fighting like this over stupid shit” you exhaled tired of this. Lately you've been fighting a lot with Logan, so frequent that it feels weird to you. Because not even when you were younger you remember fighting so much, and 80% of the time it was over meaningless stuff. 

The day was over, so both of you were doing your night routine to go to bed. The nostalgia of a sunday night is all over the air. Logan just joined you after putting Laura to sleep, he closed the door of your shared room. You’ve been trying to get up from the bed but the day was really  exhausting mentally for you.

Logan wanted to add that the last fight was you that started it but he held himself to make it worse because it would not add anything mentioning that right now. It was already in the past. “Yeah, I agree.” He just nods and stands far away from you with his hands resting on his hips, he’s looking at the floor thinking for a solution.

You are aware you are not at your best moment, you are dealing with so much lately. You are all the time worried about your family drama, then there are so many things changing at work that are stressing you out too. Also, of course the daily worries that include having a family. 

Logan is aware of this tough moment you are going through and he’s always there to support you, to have a shoulder to cry on, all ears for you so you don’t have to hold anything in your mind. That’s also what you did when he’s dealing with shitty things. 

But lately, god, everything seems to get on your nerves for the both of you. Sometimes the clothes are all spread on the floor, or when you arrived late from work and there is nothing on the fridge left to eat, or when Logan tries to defend Laura for something that really needs a punishment, etc. And it doesn’t help when you had a shitty day at work or keep receiving bad news from your family, so sometimes you just explode and Logan is also mad or had a shitty day so that’s when the fights start. 

“We really need to stop, Laura's been asking if we are okay” you told him with tears in your eyes. “When you went for a run in the morning, she came here to our room and laid next to me in bed so we had breakfast together and she looked under the weather, like she was not having a good time even when we had sweet treats and stuff…” you started to tell him about what happened earlier. “So I asked her if everything was alright and she looked right into my eyes and with a sad face she asked me if we were going to divorce- and- I told you Lo it was the most heartbreaking thing she could possibly ask me and…” you started to sob by remembering that conversation. 

Logan is now sitting next to you at the end of the bed. Holding your hand close to him, all of his attention to you. “And I was so shocked so I put my hands on her face holding her to really pay attention to what I was about to say…” you continued. 

“No, baby. Why are you asking that? Your dad and I love each other so much, and both of us love you so so so so much. We are not getting divorced” you held her face trying your best not to cry in front of her, the thought of being apart from the little family you had with Logan made you sad. 

“I’m asking because last night I heard you guys fighting, I mean you were raising your voices and then dad closed the door really hard. And it’s not the first time�� Laura confessed and you felt bad that she had to listen to you argue. “Last week when I was outside playing with Franky I also heard both of you yelling”. 

“I’m sorry, baby. You should not have witnessed that, don’t worry. With your dad we’re okay” you caressed her hair to give her some calm to her mind.

”My friend Dani told me that it happened the same to their parents that are divorced now. So I’m scared that one day dad will leave us just like Dani’s dad” Laura told you with tears in her eyes just at the thought of her dad leaving her and her mom. 

That’s when your heart broke into a million pieces. You kept telling her not to worry, that you were having pointless arguments. You didn’t want to tell her about your problems at work and with your family because she’s a little girl, she should be worried about school and having fun as a kid and not about divorce and her dad leaving. 

So once you noticed she calmed down, you stayed in bed the whole morning and watched a movie together with Franky on Laura’s lap. The dog she adopted never leaves her side especially if he senses that she’s sad. 

And also you made up your mind that things needed to change, to stop these stupid fights with your husband. 

You told Logan about what happened in the morning when he left for his daily workout. Not wanting to tell him during the day because Laura is so concentrated on every attitude of both of you. That’s why you are telling him now that she went to sleep. Logan sighs like never before, like he was holding his breath the whole time you were talking, but never letting go of your hands together. “I know our daughter is smart and so empathetic just like you, so I get why she’s worried. I had to admit that I closed the door so hard, that’s on me. We need to stop fighting over bullshit, babe. We need to fix this, but I’m not leaving you guys”. Logan let go of your hand to stand in front of you squatting down holding your knees, “I’ll NEVER leave you, you hear me? We had been through so much worse, remember? And we made it because I fucking love you and I know you love me”. Logan reassured you too in case the same thought that Laura has is placed in your mind too.

You caressed his cheek and looked into those beautiful eyes of his, “I love our family, Logan. Like you said we made it through so much worse, I’m sorry I’ve been irritated lately. That’s on me, I’m going to do my best” tears flowing down your face. Logan quickly wiped them off. 

“Babe, I’m right here. I don’t know why but when you’re in a dark time you always felt free to cry and told me about it but this time it feels like you’re holding all of this sadness to bury it deep down. What 's going on? What changed?” Logan asked with curiosity because you’ve been together for years. 

“I don’t know, Lo. Maybe the hormones, maybe I don’t want to be a burden for you guys. Like I have to be strong for Laura, she’s my number one priority right now and she had an awful life before she found us so I don’t want to give her all of my shit, she’s a kid. Like I said, she should be worried about school and having the childhood she deserves” you poured your heart out to your husband. 

“My love you’ll never be a burden for me, you hear me? I need you to say it so that you understand. Besides, Laura needs to see us sad too, we can’t lie to her that life is all the time just joy. I’m not saying to tell her all of our problems, but that is valid if we feel some kind of way, we would be faking if we were smiling or just okay all the time”. Logan, the angry wolverine you used to know was gone the moment he met you back then in Charles’s mansion. Anger stopped being his only emotion, you made him feel in that same moment that he was always going to be able to show his real emotions and stopped playing this character of the angry and intimidating man. 

“I understand, Lo”. You finally gave him a smile. It is not fair for you to struggle alone and let go of this stress by fighting. You really need to start saying what’s going on, and Logan is always going to be there for it. Just by thinking of the huge difference of the fights you used to have in the past, a small laugh escaped your mouth. Logan looks at you surprised but happy that you got something off your chest. 

“What’s on your mind now, sugar?” Logan asked curiously. 

“I just remember the things we used to fight when we started dating, I mean we were younger and sometimes really stupid. And also the fights we used to have for mistakes we made on missions. We still fight when the other is on the field out there in danger, the worry about losing the other one always starts an argument…” you answered. 

“Yeah but those always ended up with a make out session…” Logan gave you a flirty grin, his dirty mind already enjoying the memories. To be honest, after a mission with or without an argument it always ends with both of you giving each other so much pleasure and comfort for being safe and sound. 

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! THAT WAS WAY TO DANGEROUS!!” Logan losing his mind because you almost got killed out there. 

“I HAD TO DO IT, I COULDN’T LEAVE THEM RIGHT THERE!!” you explained yourself why you came back to the field and risked your life. “IF I DIDN’T HELP THEM, NOBODY’S WAS GOING TO!”. 

God, your empathy is one of Logan’s favorite things about you, but more than once it has given him almost a heart attack. 

“NOT ALL THE TIMES WE CAN SAVE THEM ALL, I NEED YOU TO UNDERSTAND THAT. I CAN’T LOSE YOU, PRINCESS” Logan holding your shoulders steady.

Once you were back at the mansion, and in the privacy of your shared room, Logan wanted to keep talking about the risk you made, but you just wanted to take a shower to take off all of the work done. “Honey, I’m right here in one piece. I’m fine” you brushed his hair with your fingers to calm him down. Trying to get a smile from him. 

“I insist, I can’t lose you. You’ll be freaking out too if it was me in your position” Logan raised his brow knowing you’ll be worried too about him. 

“I know, I’ll be way worse hysterical” you admitted, but at the same time just trying to calm him down. Right now both of you need to relax after a hard mission. You kept brushing his hair until he stopped talking and just leaned into your touch. Both of you ended up taking a bath together and stayed all afternoon in the sheets making love. Other times the fights after missions didn’t seem to stop and led to angry sex. 

“Now that you said that, it reminds me of Laura explaining to me something she realized when she heard us fighting last night and…” you started laughing but also felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, honey. We didn’t mean to raise our voices, we didn’t mean for you to hear us but sometimes with your dad we had our differences. But everything is fine now, we talked about it and it’s okay now” you didn’t lie. One thing you and Logan hate is to go to bed angry, it’s also true that you didn’t want Laura to hear it.

“Yeah, I know you were fighting because it wasn’t the happy screams you and dad make at night sometimes”. Laura said with the innocent intention a kid has. You almost choked on your cup of tea.

You don’t know if it was because of her powers that she heard the happy screams she’s talking about, because the house is huge and her room is not that close to your shared room. And since she arrived, every time you have sex with Logan both of you are really aware that there is someone else in the house so you keep your voice low and always lock the door. You don’t want to traumatize your daughter.

Not like before having kids, or when Laura is staying the night somewhere else, that Logan asks you to be loud so the neighbors can hear his name.

“Are you fucking kidding me she said that?” Logan laughing at your face, red like a tomato. 

“Don’t laugh at that, Lo! It was so embarrassing to explain to her that it was a conversation for another day…” you hid your face in your palms, Logan still teasing you about your sudden shyness. “So I told her that her daddy was going to explain someday when she was older why adults make those happy screams” now you are teasing him because his face almost dropped. Already anxious about how he’s going to explain to his daughter how babies come to the world and all that stuff. 

“Nope, because she’s never going to grow up. She'll always be our little girl” he tried to convince himself about that. You gave him a pat on his back that he can handle that. 

“Our little girl is almost 12, babe. So you’ll have to have THAT talk sooner that you think with her. But don’t worry I’m sure you’re going to nail that because you are the best daddy”. You assured him.

God, you can picture in your mind the reaction of Logan when teenager Laura will bring her first partner. You’ll need to be there for him because your daughter is about to experience a lot of things and your husband will need your help. 

“Don’t be a brat with me please, sweetheart I’m begging you” Logan easily put you on his lap, brushing your hair out of your face. “What if instead of giving me more anxiety you help me get rid of that anxiety we’ve been dealing with lately?” he kissed your neck, his breath so warm against your skin. 

“What do you suggest, big boy?” his hand now traveling down your spine and you hold his face close to your chest, Logan leaving kisses on top of your clothed breasts. God, you miss this, you miss him being this closer. 

“Maybe a bath or I can fuck you like this right now but we have to be really careful with the noises, especially you doll. I know you like to scream my name and how good I make you feel” Logan already taking his shirt off to whatever option you are down to. You smacked his toned chest at the insinuation, pulling him closer to kiss you with the eagerness you missed so much. He lifted you from your spot heading to take that bath, it was going to be a long night and tomorrow morning you both need to be up early to drop Laura off at school.

[wtfsteveharrington]

love love love your writing, could you do something with luca? maybe reader gets hurt in the kitchen and he has to help her

a/n: thank you so much :’) i went a different kitchen than you meant probably but i hope u like <33

warning!! contains non-graphic mentions of accidental cuts, blood, and a physical injury.

The apartment is peaceful. Candles lit, soft music playing from a playlist you both curate, and it was pretty enough outside to leave the windows cracked open for a breeze.

You’re turning around with a stack of t-shirt’s in your arms, only half paying attention when you feel yourself bump into something that promptly shatters to the ground and disrupts the peaceful environment.

“Shit!” You both echo at the same time from being startled.

Luca’s wrapping a towel around his hand, leaving everything in the kitchen behind as he hunts you down. “Darling? What happened? Are you alright?” He took just enough time to realize that the knife had gotten him when he jumped, acknowledged he was alright, and quickly went to check on you. You’d always come on the top of his priority list.

You’re standing in a pile of glass, a deep set frown on your lips as you look around at mess made by a broken vase. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I was trying to put away our laundry and forgot I moved the vase to the edge of the dresser earlier when we were cleaning. Just caught the corner and it fell.”

Looking up at him with a little pout, “I’m sor-“

You’ve honed in on his towel wrapped hand, the hint of blood soaking through the thin material.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely fucked my hand.” He gives you some sort of ‘What can you do’ look while shrugging his shoulders. Luca has had his fair share of kitchen incidents and was much more accustom to injuries. It was deep enough to need stitches, just needed to be rinsed and bandaged.

You, however? Very much not used to seeing your boyfriend like this.

A gasp falls from your lips as you rush over to grab his wrist, taking a peek under the towel and wincing. “Luca!” He doesn’t have time to respond before you’re dragging him back into the kitchen to get him taken care of.

You’re standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the sink, trying to fight the urge to panic at the sight of him injured due to a mistake you made. He can see the way your face is all twisted up with concern and he hates it.

“M’alright… Done much worse to myself before. Won’t even leave a scar.” A scar? You frown more as you make sure the cut is clean and step back to go fish out the first aid kit from the bathroom.

“Stay put, please.”

Luca, a man, stands there as he’s told but does admire the sway of your ass as you barrel away. He then gets to admire the swell of your cleavage under your top and - “Shit!” He hissed out as you’re grabbing his hand again to apply a bit of ointment.

“Shoulda paid less attention to my boobs and you would have seen this coming.” You tease while trying so hard to keep the mood as light as you can muster. There was still a course of guilt running through your veins as you continue patching him up.

“I truly am fine, you know? Comes with the job territory. Won’t be the last time I get cut.” He leans in to press a tender kiss to your head and you gravitate towards the touch. You know it’s not a life or death situation but between being embarrassed over both breaking the vase and indirectly injuring Luca you were a little solemn to say the least.

“I know, just hate I caused this.” The bandaid is smoothed over his skin and you give it another once over before bringing it to your lips, kissing over the bandaid. Luca allows you to continue fretting over the injury for a moment until he’s moving his hand to cup your jaw and make look up at him.

“It was an accident, no?” You both nod. “Exactly… I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re both fine. Don’t want you beating yourself up over this.”

You take a deep breath and allow his words to sink in for a moment before nodding once again. Eyes flickering up to his before you lean in and press a tender kiss to his lips. “M’sorry you got hurt…” Another kiss. “Was kinda hot how well you handled it though.”

Luca laughs against your mouth, a wide grin on his features as he feels your anxiety finally start to settle. He steals one more kiss before stepping back to acknowledge the state of the kitchen, giving your waist a squeeze before he goes.

He glances over the cutting board that was the culprit of injury and the food that started to burn while he was tended to. Shrugging his shoulders, turning to smirk at you with pure love and devotion in his eyes.

“Fuck it, let’s go have a date night out instead.”

A hand claps against the flesh of your ass as he passes you to go get changed.

[priniya]

˗ˏ` THEODORE NOTT HEADCANONS! ´ˎ˗

NATIONALITY. i truly believe that this man is half polish from his mother’s side and half scottish from his father’s side.

his maternal side of the family settled in northern scotland during the world war two to escape the german occupation. at first it was supposed to be temporary — to stay there until the war ends, but they settled down in the outskirts of inverness, though they never forgot about their heritage, speaking their native language, remembering the history and making sure that their descendants wouldn’t forget about their family’s past.

his mother would continue the tradition, speaking to her only son in her family’s mother tongue. due to the lack of conversation with his father, he barely spoke any english, when he first got to hogwarts, he understood lots of what was said to him, but communicating back was troubling for him at first.

back when his mother was still alive, she would take him to poland, to show him their family’s hometown. after she passed away due to suicide, combined with her progressing schizophrenia around his tenth birthday, he hasn’t returned to his mother’s country until post-war.

FRIENDS. he didn’t have too many friends at first nor wanted to make any in the first place. the first person he spoke to was daphne greengrass.

his poor english with a rough accent, mixed of polish and scottish, made it hard for him to be understood by his peers in the train, making theo seem as an arrogant and egocentric twelve-years old boy, who thought he was better than the others that approached him. theo felt alienated, but couldn’t speak his mind, because his peers would make fun of the way he speaks.

back in the first term of first year, his roommates weren’t speaking to him. thanks to daphne, who let him took his time to figure out what he wanted to say, he met his gang and switched dorms with one of them, which resulted in sharing a room with mattheo and lorenzo.

even though he had a small group of friends, his closest were daphne and mattheo. the alienation he felt earlier was lifted off his shoulders, knowing that there were still people that would be there for him. ever since his mom died, he felt like his world was shattered into pieces, the feeling only intensifying, when his father forbid him from seeing the side of the family he grew up with, the good side that let him be a boy.

his friendship with daphne was strong throughout years as she often invited him to the countryside, where her family’s mansion was, often disappearing into thin air at the crack of dawn till the late evening, wandering around the streets of a muggle towns nearby her house, causing troubles with the rest of their friends.

PERSONALITY.

it wasn’t a surprise for anyone that learnt about his background that despite coming off as an extrovert, theodore was really quiet and perceptive guy, who kept lots of things to himself. not a lot of people knew about his mom’s life and the way it ended as his father made sure that everyone thought she died of an unspecified illness.

seeing his mom’s schizophrenia progressing in his early years, leading to her suicide had taken a toll on him. he believed that it was his father’s fault for everything bad that happened to the person he loved the most as he tried isolating her from her family, and when that didn’t work out the way he wanted, abusing her mentally and physically. after her passing, the abuse continued, this time, theodore was at the end of the stick. his father’s behaviour making theo distrustful and hostile towards male figures in his life, especially authorities.

despite his quietness, lots of girls at school were falling in front of him to get at least an ounce of his attention for themselves. it might be the brooding state he’s often is in. he, as well as his friends, is often the subject of interest of people in his year and below. usually, he attends the parties in the common rooms to keep up with his reputation.

theo’s really indifferent towards things that don’t matter much to him, like said reputation, or for example his grades. though, he doesn’t care about his academics as much as he does about quidditch, he’s exceptionally intelligent and talented, picking up things in a speed of light. he’s not one to refuse helping others (=his friends) and he often tutors mattheo before exams to make sure they both pass the year.

he gets angry, whenever someone compares him to his father, what happens when someone hears his last name. during this time or immediately after, he can get outbursts of anger and needs a smoke (preferably a joint) to numb his mind. if he doesn’t have anything on him, which rarely happens, then if you’re in a line of fire, a visit to hospital wing is the only way out.

whenever he comes back to school from the christmas break, his panic attacks are more frequent, usually accompanied by the image of his dead mom. the panic attack that he would never forget was during his third year, when his boggart showed him his mom’s lifeless body, triggering something inside him.

MISCELLANEOUS.

theo’s super tall, making him stand out from the crowd. when he was measured by miss pomfrey in year five, she told him that he’s around six foot five. he used to be a short kid, but once he started growing, he couldn’t stop — stretch marks on his stomach has fainted over the years.

he doesn’t like mixed alcohol. as a teenager with polish genes, theodore doesn’t mix his alcohol with any juice or soda to make the bitterness go away faster. when he drinks, he does it neat, no matter the type. whether he drinks tequilla, vodka, whiskey or wine, he never adds anything. and when he does want to make the taste go away faster, he eats pickled cucumbers.

has bad anxiety. as i said earlier, theo’s bad anxiety and with each year passing, it only gets worse. his panic attacks are more frequent and it often goes in a pair with any contact from his father.

music taste. the music he listens to is dependent on his mood. whenever he’s alone in his dorm, he blasts polish songs and bands, especially dżem, because it was his mom’s favorite rock-blues band. he’s also a big fan of the smiths and simple minds.

blood status. he doesn’t care about any of it, mostly because that’s what his mom taught him — blood status doesn’t define a person, their actions do. even if she didn’t, he would probably still pretty much indifferent to the blood status of people around him, just to do the opposite of what his father wants.

substances. he’s go to substance is weed. he doesn’t smoke as much as people think, he likes to smoke a joint on a chilly summer morning or after a stressful day. he definitely drinks much more, but not to the point, when he can’t live without it. it’s not a secret that once in a while, he pops mdma at parties.

AS A BOYFRIEND. or more specific, your boyfriend.

possessive. as much as he doesn’t like admitting it, he doesn’t like sharing too much. he’s an only child, who grew up alone most of the time, so sharing never came easy to him. he tries to fight it though, knowing that being super possessive isn’t something healthy. he knows how to read people, so when there’s a guy hanging around you, who’s clearly interested in you, he makes sure to be somewhere around you to shift your focus from the annoying prick to him, while still being gentle with you. he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side to leave a kiss on the top of your head, before glaring expectantly at the boy.

communicative. being able to communicate his feelings and thoughts with others weren’t a bother to theodore, he hardly ever spoke to anyone about his troubles, bottling everything up until it popped. but when it comes to you? this guy makes sure that you know he has nothing to hide from you. he’s upset? you’re the one he talks to. he’s angry? you’re the only one able to calm him down. he wants you to know that you’re the one he cares about the most.

protective. this guy loves you to bits and loves everything you do, so when you show him the outfit you plan on wearing, he doesn’t comment on it in any way that could come off as negative, not that he wants to but forces himself to shut up, no, theodore couldn’t even think of something else to say that comolimenting the way you look or telling you all the things he’d love to, and will do to you later. back, when the two of you started dating and you went out somewhere, he always repeated the same thing, wear whatever you want, baby, i can fight. and he definitely would fight for you if you ever asked (what probably will never happen, because no matter how hot he looks sometimes, you hate seeing him hurt). or fight anyone, who does as much as look at you funny, and knowing his friends? they wouldn’t pull him away from the fight, no, they would jump right in to help him.

love language. his love language is acts of service and physical touch. his hands always have to be somewhere on your body, whether it’s his arm slung around your shoulders or wrapped around your waist, his hand on your hip, thigh, his thigh touching yours. it’s not only that he likes to touch you, but he hates when you’re next to him, but not close enough to calm his mind that he might lose you. also, theodore is not the best with words, so he won’t write you a few pages long letter, but what he will do is remember small details of what you tell him, like your favorite brands of sweets, crisps, your favorite flavor of cakes or cookies to always have at least one of those in his bag. he’s the guy who would drive from inverness to the south of england if you ever needed him. you’re sick? one message and theo’s there to take care of you. you like a book, but have no one to talk to about it? he’s gonna read the book just to hear you ramble.

[steveseddie]

sweet as pumpkin pie

steddie | rating: t | wc: 3,1 k | cw: none | tags: dustin & steve, dustin & eddie, eddie knows how to bake, steve has a crush, getting together, first kiss, steve pov

for @steddie-spooktober day twenty-four, prompt “pumpkin” 

read on ao3

Pounding at the door has Steve scrambling to his feet and hurtling towards the front door. He glances at Eddie on the couch and is relieved to find he’s still napping soundly, unbothered by the noise. 

Steve doesn’t want him to wake up, not when Eddie showed up an hour earlier looking exhausted after nightmares kept him up all night. The last thing Steve wants is for Eddie to lose any more sleep because whoever is at the door grows impatient and knocks harder. 

So he fumbles with the lock and swings the door open to reveal–

“Dustin?”  

“Steve, we have an emergency!” Henderson shrieks, his loud volume making Steve flinch.

His annoyance is immediately replaced by worry as the kid’s words register. His body tenses up, his fingers itch for his nail bat. “An Upside Down emergency?” 

“Worse!” Dustin says. Steve’s stomach churns and he feels sick. He tries to think what could be worse than an Upside Down emergency– “A baking emergency!” He finishes before Steve can spiral. 

He blinks at him. “A baking–” he starts in incredulity. “Henderson! Jesus fucking Christ, man.” He reaches over and flicks his stupid Thinking Cap. 

“What?” Dustin protests, swatting Steve’s hand away.

“That’s not worse than an Upside Down emergency! Nothing is worse than an Upside Down emergency!”

“Fine, but it’s up there,” Dustin argues stubbornly.

“Whatever,” Steve says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wishes Eddie was awake so that they could share an exasperated look. “What’s the matter, shithead?”

“You know my mom isn’t home this week, right?”

“Yeah, she’s visiting family or something.” She told Steve as much when she called and asked him to keep an eye on her Dusty. 

“Right, well, the science club is in charge of the baking sale this week and she volunteered to bring something, but she forgot it was this week!” 

Steve blinks at him, failing to see what the problem is. “So? She left you money, right? Just buy some cupcakes at Melvald’s and bring those.”

Dustin gasps, affronted. “Steve, it’s a bake sale! Not a store-bought sale!”

“Things at stores were baked at some point too, butthead,” Steve argues, but Dustin keeps looking at him like he’s being stupid. “Geez, fine, what do you want me to do about it anyway?”

“I need you to bake me something, duh.”

Steve snorts. “Sure, yeah, I’d love to, except I don’t know how to bake.”

Dustin frowns. “Bullshit! You cook for us all the time!”

“Yeah, cook like actual food, not pies and shit,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the door.

“It’s the same thing!”

Steve thinks back on the time he tried to bake brownies for Nancy and how he almost burned his house down in the process. “It’s so not,” he says in a bitchy tone. 

Dustin groans, scrubbing his hands down his face. “But Steve, I need a pie!”

“Sorry, kid, you’re gonna have to ask someone else. Maybe Mrs. Wheeler or–”

“I can do it.”

Both of their heads snap towards the living room entrance where Eddie stands, rubbing his eyes sleepily. 

Christ, he’s cute, Steve thinks, and immediately feels his cheeks heat up. He hopes Eddie is still too groggy from sleep to notice. “Do what, Eds?” 

“Make Henderson a pie,” Eddie says, waving his hand at the kid. 

Dustin blinks at him with wide eyes. “You know how to bake a pie?” 

“Yup.”

Steve finds himself asking, “How?” 

Eddie snorts amusedly. “We have ovens in the trailer park too, rich boy,” he snarks but his words lack any heat. “Though I might have to borrow yours for this, ours hasn’t worked since the turkey incident of ‘84.”

Dustin and Steve exchange a look, equally shocked by what they’re hearing. 

“So,” Eddie goes on, clapping his hands together. “What kind of pie do you need, Henderson?” He asks as slides his Reeboks on, which he left by Steve’s door when he showed up. “Cherry, pumpkin, apple?”

“Uh, pumpkin?”

Eddie flashes him a dimpled grin. “My favorite,” he says, grabbing his car keys from the table at the entrance. “Let’s go then, shrimp.”

“I thought you were gonna make it here,” Steve says, confused by Eddie leaving.

“Gotta go shopping first, Stevie,” Eddie explains, van keys spinning around his finger. “And I gotta dust off the old recipe, it’s been a while since I used it.”

“Ugh, but I hate grocery shopping!” Dustin whines, earning a smack on the back of his head from Eddie.

“It’s your pie, Henderson. Suck it up.” 

Dustin scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Eddie turns to Steve, batting his long eyelashes at him. “You mind cleaning the oven for me in the meantime, sweetheart?”

Steve should protest that he didn’t agree to help, but with Eddie’s big doe eyes staring at him like that and him calling him sweetheart, all he can muster is a weak, “Yeah, okay.”

Eddie grins, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he grabs the back of Dustin’s neck and pushes him towards his van. “Be back in a few, honey!” He calls back to Steve. “And then we’re baking a pie!”

Steve watches them go and closes the door once the pair gets in the van. 

He’s in the kitchen, ready to clean his oven for Eddie when his words register in Steve’s brain.

“Wait– we?”

***

Eddie and Dustin come back an hour later, carrying everything they need. 

Dustin dumps his bags on the counter and immediately tries to retreat to the living room but Eddie moves faster. He grabs onto the handle of his backpack, pulling him to an abrupt stop, Dustin’s limbs flailing like a puppet on strings. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, tugging Henderson back into the kitchen. “I told you, it’s your pie so you’re helping.”

“But my mom never forces me to help!” He protests, trying to shrug off his backpack to escape. 

Eddie wraps an arm around his neck instead. 

“Yeah, well. Your mom is a saint, I’m not,” he says, letting him go once Dustin stops struggling and handing him a whisk and a list of ingredients for him to mix. 

Begrudgingly, Dustin accepts them and sets off to work on making the filling while Eddie and Steve work on the crust. 

Steve has to focus really hard on following Eddie’s instructions correctly. Not because the instructions are particularly complicated or anything, mostly it’s just ‘add this’ or ‘measure that’ or ‘hand me those’. It’s because Eddie is very distracting like this– with his hair tied in a messy bun, the sleeves of his flannel rolled over his forearms, flour smeared on his face.

And then there’s the familiarity with which he moves around Steve’s kitchen after spending so much time here, helping Steve cook or just keeping him company. And the confidence with which he measures, mixes, and adds ingredients, or tells Steve to do it. 

Steve always had a thing for competence. It’s why he was so attracted to Nancy, whether she was getting all of her chemistry flashcard questions right or shooting monsters in the face. It’s why he started crushing on Robin after she cracked that Russian code. Steve knows that if he had been there when Eddie played the most metal concert ever, and he had seen him shredding his guitar the way Dustin describes it, he would’ve been too busy drooling over him to fight Vecna. 

Eddie knowing how to make a pumpkin pie from scratch is no different– and if it weren’t for Dustin, Steve probably would’ve already pinned Eddie against the kitchen counter to sloppily make out with him. 

For now, Steve tries his best to pay attention to what Eddie asks him to do and not get distracted by thoughts of kissing him or dragging him upstairs or–

He realizes he fails when Eddie has to smear flour on his nose to get his attention. 

“Hey,” Steve protests weakly, going cross-eyed trying to stare at the white powder on his nose.

Eddie chuckles. “There you are, I’ve been talking to you for like, five minutes.” 

“Oh.” Steve must’ve gotten distracted staring at Eddie’s arms as he expertly kneaded the dough and rolled it into balls. He glances down at the counter and realizes he’s done already. Then he glances around the kitchen and notices it’s just the two of them. 

“Where’s Henderson?”

“Well, the filling is ready and we have to leave these babies in the fridge for two hours,” he says, holding up one of the dough balls. “So I sent him to pick a movie for us to watch in the meantime.”

“Oh, okay,” Steve says, wondering how he could’ve been so deep in thought that he missed all of that happening. He grabs one of the dough balls while Eddie grabs the other one, following him to the fridge. “Do we need this much pie crust?” He asks as Eddie opens the door. 

“I thought we could make two pies so I doubled the recipe. Henderson can take one and we can have the other,” Eddie says, sticking the dough in the fridge. “That way you can try it and I can take some back to Wayne. I don’t think we’ve had any homemade pumpkin pie since my mom died.”

Steve hums. “Is this her recipe?”

The smile Eddie gives Steve over his shoulder is a little sad. “Yeah, she taught me how to make it years ago.”

“I can’t wait to try it,” Steve says softly, knocking their shoulders together. 

Eddie spins on his heels, leaning back against the fridge. “I just hope I didn’t fuck it up, it’s been a while,” he chuckles, hanging a hand from his neck. 

Steve shrugs. “You can always blame me. Or Dustin.”

Eddie throws his head back, laughing. There’s a streak of flour on his neck and Steve has to fight the urge to clean it up with his tongue. “Nah, Stevie, you two are doing a great job,” Eddie says with a dimpled grin, “even the kid with his fucking attitude.”

Steve huffs, rolling his eyes. “Right? You’d think he’s doing us a favor.”

“Entitled little shit,” Eddie mutters, but the corners of his mouth tick up.

From the living room, Dustin yells at them, his voice dripping with annoyance. “You guys are gonna watch the movie or what?” 

Steve and Eddie share a look and start laughing. 

***

Two hours later the two of them are back in the kitchen, rolling out the pie crust. 

Or at least, Eddie is. Steve keeps messing it up. 

“Fuck,” he mutters as he screws it up again. “You know what? You do it.”

“Come on, Stevie, it’s not that hard,” Eddie says, knocking his bony hip against Steve’s. 

Whatever protest Steve is about to make dies in his throat when Eddie leaves his perfectly rolled-out pie crust and moves to stand behind him, pressing his body against Steve and Steve’s body against the counter, his arms wrapping around him so he can guide his hands on the rolling pin. 

“You gotta start at the center and work outwards,” Eddie says, speaking into Steve’s ear as he shows him how to do it. Steve can barely focus on anything that isn’t the entire length of Eddie’s body pressed against him. “Yeah, just like that.”

“Christ,” Steve mutters. Eddie’s words whispered lowly into his ear are making Steve’s head swim with all kinds of ideas. It’s a good thing that Eddie seems oblivious to it. 

“Now you do it,” Eddie says, letting go of Steve’s hands and holding Steve’s waist instead. 

Steve’s movements are a little jerky, but he manages to finish rolling out the pie crust successfully, even with Eddie standing behind him the entire time. 

“Great job, Stevie,” Eddie says, hooking his chin on Steve’s shoulder to look down at the counter. 

Steve makes the mistake of turning his head, leaving their faces only a few inches away from each other. Steve’s breath hitches and his heart starts jackhammering against his ribcage. It feels like it might explode out of his chest when he notices Eddie’s eyes unmistakably flicker down to his lips. 

And of course, that’s when Dustin comes barreling into the kitchen. 

“Are you guys done?” He asks, his arms crossed over his chest, his foot tapping on the floor impatiently. 

Steve drops the rolling pin and Eddie jumps back a few steps. Dustin’s eyes dart curiously between the two. 

Eddie clears his throat. “We’d be done sooner if you helped us,” he says, his voice coming out a little strangled. 

Dustin gives them an innocent look, eyes wide like he’s never done anything wrong in his life. “But you're doing such a great job, Eddie.” 

Eddie doesn’t fall for it. He snorts, throwing a kitchen cloth at his face. “Shoo, you gremlin!”

He doesn’t wait for Eddie to tell him twice, hurtling towards the living room. Steve watches in silence as Eddie carefully places the pie crust on the pan and pours the filling Dustin made.

“Now we wait?” Steve asks once both pies are inside the preheated oven. 

“Now we wait,” Eddie says, smiling at Steve. His eyes catch on something and then he reaches out to wipe flour from Steve’s cheek, his thumb lingering on his cheekbone for a second too long. 

His eyes flicker to Steve’s lips one last time before he goes to join Dustin in the living room. 

***

“I present to you," Eddie starts, spinning around on his heels, holding the pie in his hands, “your pumpkin pie, my good sir.”

Dustin grins, letting out something between a laugh and a snort. “Dude, it looks so good!”

“I told you I could bake,” Eddie says, grinning smugly. 

“Hey, we helped,” Steve says with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Eddie sets the pie down on the counter so he can crowd Steve against it. “Oh, I know, baby, I could never have done it without you.”

Heat builds up in Steve’s cheeks. It’s a good thing that Eddie gets distracted by Dustin rounding the counter and wrapping his arms around his middle in an unexpected hug. “Thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie ruffles Dustin’s curls. “You’re welcome, kid.”

Before Steve can protest once again that he helped, thank you very much, Dustin lets go of Eddie and hugs Steve too. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Of course, buddy.”

“I’ll tell Mom to have you both over for dinner when she comes back,” he says, adjusting his Thinking Cap. 

“Hell yeah,” Eddie says, licking his lips like he’s already tasting Mrs. Henderson’s cooking. “You just earned yourself a drive home, mister.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, no way I’m letting you ruin my–” Steve clears his throat, “ our pie by taking it home on your bike.” He grabs Dustin’s shoulders, and once the kid grabs the pie, he steers him in the direction of the front door. “I’ll come back to help you clean up,” he tells Steve over his shoulder. 

“You better.”

With a wink, they disappear through the kitchen archway, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts. 

And he can’t help but think about Eddie– his eyes on Steve’s lips, his thumb softly brushing over Steve’s cheekbone, his chest pressed against Steve’s back. 

He forces himself to start cleaning up, just so he can stay busy and not drive himself crazy thinking about what might happen when Eddie comes back, now that Dustin won’t be here. 

He’s elbow-deep in rinsing water when he hears the front door open, followed by Eddie’s whistling as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” he says, waltzing in, “I told you I’d help!” 

Without turning around, Steve shrugs. “Grab a cloth, you can help me dry.”

He hears a cabinet open and close as Eddie presumably looks for a clean kitchen cloth but when he appears next to Steve, he’s got a plate with a slice of pumpkin pie on it. 

Steve purses his lips. “That’s not a kitchen towel,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“Nope, but I couldn’t wait to try it,” he says, leaning back on the counter, facing Steve. 

Steve gives the slice of pie a pointed look. “Well?”

Eddie grabs a forkful of pie and shoves it into his mouth while Steve stares expectantly at him, waiting for his reaction. It comes in the way of a sinful moan that makes Steve want to shove his head into the water to stop the heat from creeping up his cheeks. 

“I- uh,” he clears his throat, “I take it we didn’t fuck it up?”

Eddie licks his lips, and Steve’s hands tighten around the bowl he was rinsing. “Nop, it’s perfect. Just like my mama used to make it.”

Steve smiles at Eddie’s smug little tilt of his head as he shoves another forkful into his mouth. 

“Hey, I wanna try it too,” he says, nudging Eddie’s side with his elbow. 

He expects Eddie to feed him some pie since his hands are still under the rinsing water and it’s probably what Eddie intends to do, he scoops some pie up with his fork–

But then he hesitates.

His eyes dart over Stece’s face, searching for something. He either finds it or gives up, dropping the fork back onto the plate and placing it on the counter next to him. 

Steve cocks his head, puppy-like, but before he can get a word out, Eddie grabs his cheeks and kisses Steve square on the lips. 

He instinctively kisses back– or does his best to do so considering his hands are still in the water. He moves his lips against Eddie’s and when Eddie laps at his bottom lip, Steve opens his mouth, letting Eddie’s tongue slide inside. 

He tastes like pumpkin pie, is Steve’s first coherent thought, followed by– holy shit, I’m kissing Eddie.

It’s that realization that makes Steve retrieve his hands from the sink, dripping water all over the floor, to wrap his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. He kisses him more deeply, chasing after that taste of pumpkin pie, and smoke, and cinnamon, and Eddie. 

They pull back when they finally need to come up for air but stay wrapped up in each other. 

Steve’s eyes dip down to Eddie’s lips, red and slick with spit. He hears them moving but realizes he didn’t hear whatever Eddie said from the blood still rushing through his ears. 

“Sorry, what?” 

Eddie chuckles a little breathlessly. “I said, what did you think of the pie?” 

“Oh, um. Good, it’s–” Steve licks his lips. “It’s good.” 

Eddie’s mouth twitches with a hint of a smirk. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm but, uh, I think I need– I need to give it another try, you know?” Steve stammers out, watching as Eddie’s eyes go a little dark at that. He licks his lips and Steve does his best not to let out a whine. 

“Come here then, pumpkin,” Eddie says, pulling Steve forward, mashing their lips together. 

Neither of them points out it would be easier for Steve to grab a forkful of pie– they’re too busy chasing after the taste of it on each other’s mouths to even try. 

[vrystalius]

Hello so i have been craving angst then fluff so can you write scenarios with the uppermoons x reader, after a huge argument that ended up with the reader walking away from the fight then locking herself in their shared bedroom,and when they come back after duties they find out that she cried herself to sleep with her tear stained and red cheeks, she wakes up and they make up then cuddle (The argument is huge but they are both at fault and they are both right it's just different point of view since they are demons and she is a human).

Arguments with the Upper moons

You and your s/o had a huge argument wich caused you to leave and later cry yourself to sleep. How will they react?

Pairing: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Gyutaro x reader

(Gyutaro doing his usual scratching on himself in his part, toxic-ish relationship in his part as well, angst in every part)

Kokushibo

Your arguments are mostly about how emotionally unavailable he is and how much Kokushibo refuses to speak about his feelings. He never elaborates on what he is thinking right now or what he truly thinks of you, this relationship and his feelings for you. You know that Kokushibo is mediating when he is not training, meaning he has plenty of time to think. Why is he never sharing his feelings? You always voice out loud how much you appreciate and love your husband, but he never tells you the same things. Only occasional dry “I love you’s” and some “I appreciate your presence’s”.

You try to tell Kokushibo about how you want to hear more from him and what he truly thinks of you. Sometimes, you feel like he doesn’t love you at all with the way he acts so coldly around you.

Kokushibo’s voice is stern and condescending while arguing with you. He only states the most obvious things and still doesn’t admit his true feelings towards you. This makes your heart ache even more than before. Seeing the tears form in the corners of your eyes made him scoff quietly.

“Why are you crying now? Did I hurt your “feelings”?”

That last comment made a wave of nausea wash over your whole body. Before you let yourself throw up onto his feet, you quickly rushed into your shared bedroom to hide your crying face.

You ignored Kokushibo’s demands to open up the bedroom door for almost one hour until Muzan finally ordered a meeting with him. Tears continue to stream down your face as you curled up into a small ball below the sheets. Your bed felt eerily empty without your husband beside you, but right now, you don’t want him here. You didn’t know exactly when you fell asleep, but you woke up by cold fingers brushing against your now dry cheeks.

After you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of Kokushibo kneeling beside you and gently caressing your cheeks. His bottom and upper eyes were closed. It was his unique way to show that he feels safe and relaxed around you. You noticed the soft look in his eyes and the gentleness in his touch.

“I… I should apologise for my words I spoke to you earlier. I did not mean to hurt you in any way.”

Kokushibo’s voice was deep and soothing. You could hear how hesitant he was about speaking like this. He barely ever shows his vulnerable side to you and insists to keep his guard up at all times. That is one of the many things why you two argue so much. He spend the last 500 years to perfect his fighting style and whole being. Even during his human years he forgot his own humanity, but around you, his emotions try to resurface. Your influence and affection make him softer, and in his opinion, weak. He does not want you to see him as weak, but that he is strong, powerful and a perfect being.

“Could you forgive me for acting so harshly? I do truly love you and I’d like to prove it to you.”

Douma

Douma’s lack of understanding of emotions cause a lot of arguments between you two. He continues to dismiss your feelings as just some silly moods you tend to have and never takes them seriously. Douma is listening to his follower’s woes all day every day, but he does not really pay attention to their words. He mostly zones out and then offers some loose advice based on some words he picked up while they continue to talk and talk and talk. He does the same thing with you.

When you try to tell him that you don’t like it when Douma has his meals in your shared bedroom and leaves behind a bloody mess and even some bodyparts. It’s disgusting, especially to you, who is a human. But all he hears is that he should send in a follower to clean your chambers after his meals. This was not the problem you were trying to solve, you were trying to tell him that you don’t like it when Douma eats humans in your bedroom, yet he doesn’t listen.

That isn’t even the most infuriating part. Besides him not listening to your thoughts, he sometimes mocks you for feeling emotional about it. It may be unintentional, but when you start crying during an argument, Douma sometimes giggles at your expression. It’s humiliating how hilarious he finds your crying face and in return it made you incredibly mad at him. Wich also makes him grin.

Yes, Douma may not grasp the concept of emotions, but you wished that he doesn’t dismiss them that easily.

During one of your arguments, you were trying to tell him about how you didn’t like how he disregards your emotions so easily.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do? You’re a silly human after all, your emotions are very entertaining to me!”

After Douma finished his sentence, you slapped your hand across his face as hard as you could. You knew that he will barely even feel it tickle his skin, but you wanted to demonstrate how infuriated you are with him. While your husband was trying to understand what exactly just happened to him, you already stormed off to your shared bedroom and made sure to properly lock the door. Additionally, you opened the blinds all the way and let the sun in to make sure that damn demon stays away from you for the time being. You cannot stand to see his smirking face right now.

You didn’t even notice that you started crying. There was only hoping that Douma didn’t see your tears running down your cheeks, or else he will mock you about those too, just like he does with every other emotion you have.

You fell asleep while watching the sun disappear behind the mountains and with a pillow between your arms. Long after you fell asleep, someone started slipping the pillow out of your arms and sneakily replaced it with their own body. You tried to escape out of Douma’s arms, but his grip was tighter. His face was uncharacteristically and eerily neutral, not showing any emotions right now.

“I don’t really get emotions, you know? They’re always been foreign to me.”

His voice sounded distant and detached. Who is this man that is cuddling you right now? You kept staring at his face while he spoke.

“I never really felt them. They just weren’t there then I was born. I saw them on other people’s faces and had to learn manually what they meant.”

Douma’s cold fingers slowly brushed through your hair as he leaned forward to place a kiss on your forehead. He remained in this position while he continued to speak.

“I’m sorry if I insulted you. I never meant it. You just confuse me with your emotions sometimes, but you also…kind of… make me imagine? I’m not sure. Perhaps I’m trying to talk myself into feeling something, but when you’re around me, I feel something close to happiness. Or whatever that emotion is that I’m feeling.”

His eyes soften up slightly while speaking. You can’t help but smile a little at his words.

“But hey, you stopped resisting my cuddles~ does that mean I’m allowed back into bed? Would you be a sweetheart and close the blinds? You don’t wanna wake up next to a pile of ash, right?”

Akaza

“Stop worrying” and “toughen up” are things you hear almost every day from Akaza. He hates the weak and any sign of weakness, and since you are a human, weakness and vulnerability is a rather big part of you when you compare yourself to a demon like him. You can’t help but not being able to ignore the look he gives you everytime you either hesitate about something or try to explain your feelings to him. His eyebrows furrow together and his eyes have this look of disdain in them. His jaw clenches and you can see the veins pop out a little. That look alone, intentional or not, makes you shut up quickly.

You never heard him say “I love you” to you before, ever. You tried asking him about it but all that resulted in him coming up with some weak excuse. All you wanted is for Akaza to tell you if he does really love or if he is just staying by your side for his own entertainment or pleasure. You just want him to say “I love you” at least once and admit his feelings to you, but he stubbornly refuses.

Akaza was trying to contain his anger inside him while you were talking about exactly that. His fists were clenched and his eyes were glued to a spot on the floor. Until suddenly, he slammed his fist against the wall, shattering the wood beneath it, making you jump away.

“Why do you have to be so weak? All this crying and fucking feelings, they make you fucking pathetic and weak. I’m trying to protect you and you’re too blind to see it. I’m starting to think that protecting you was a waste of my time after all.”

Those words shattered your heart in an instant. Maybe he was right. Maybe you are just a waste of time to him, he has better things to do after all. He wants to become the strongest demon after all. This is the end of you two, isn’t it? You didn’t want Akaza to see your crying face and think even less of you, if that’s even possible, so you ran away into your bedroom and hid beneath the covers as if those will shield you from him and the rest of the world around you.

Tears ran down your face silently while you slowly fell asleep, but you woke up rapidly when you felt strong arms wrap incredibly tight around you. Your heart almost stopped in fear when you felt the familiar aura tightly pressing up against you, but you couldn’t help but begin to melt into his arms.

Akaza never was good with words. The words he uses are mostly intentionally and unintentionally used go hurt others, wich includes you. You felt how he buried his face into your neck and silently savoured your smell. His rough palms were gently rubbing up and down your waist, almost a little desperate to feel your skin again. He lifted his face from your neck and rested it right beside your head. His thick fingers carefully brushed through your hair.

“I should say it. You deserve it.”

You turned your head over to face him. You noticed freshly healed skin on his knuckles and all over his hands, leaving little room to guess what exactly he was doing while you slept. A nervous frown started appeared on his face. Akaza took a very deep breath before you listened to his shaky voice.

“I like you. A-A lot. Lots. Well, I-I really… uhm… Love you…I love you.”

Gyutaro

He always has been jealous, and always will be. Gyutato fears that you are going to leave him at any time and any day. That makes him incredibly clingy and protective of you and he refuses to leave your side, ever. He follows you around everywhere and tries to hover around you at all possible times. You had to convince that demon that you are perfectly capable to use the bathroom on your own without him needing yo stand right beside you. But after you finished up and left, you found Gyutaro crouched down beside the bathroom door, waiting and listening in case something somehow happens to you.

It’s incredibly tiring to have to be so careful around him. You fear that if you stray too far from him or disappear from his sight for too long that Gyutaro might start either slashing humans out of frustration or start scratching himself again. It’s mentally extremely weighing onto you. You tried to tell Daki about her brother and how stressed he’s making you feel, but she obviously takes Gyutaro’s side and shifts the issue back onto you.

“Well have you ever considered that my brother is just being very loving, hm? You better appreciate it you ungrateful human.”

Daki’s words did certainly not help you feel any better. She of course told her brother about you confiding in her, wich made Gyutaro almost seethe in jealousy and anger. That same night, you two had the worst argument yet.

You tried to tell him how suffocating he is while he is accusing you of not loving such a like creature like him. Your attempts at telling him how much you actually love and cherish him failed.

"No matter what you say or do, I-I’ll never be good enough for you...! You’re just pr-pretending to love me because you feel sorry for me…Deep down, you think I’m ugly, dirty and disgusting…”

The gut-wrenching sound of Gyutaro scratching his own skin open filled the silence as you stared at him. Gods, you had enough. You’re too exhausted to fight against his insecurities right now, so instead of continuing this useless argument, you stormed off into your private bedroom. After turning your back to him, you heard his nails tear through his own flesh and bones incredibly slowly and agonisingly.

You laid down on top of your large bed and faced away from the door, trying not to think about his words or the sound of Gyutaro’s blood gushing out of his flesh wounds. You were so concentrated on trying to think about anything else that you didn’t notice how you slipped into a deep slumber. You only woke up to the sound of bones cracking and crushing together.

Lifting your head, you scanned the space on the bed beside you. Empty. As you sat upright, you managed to glance over the edge of the bed, spotting Gyutaro being curled together on the floor. He looked like a very unnaturally bend puppy that wasn’t allowed to sleep on the bed. After calling out to him, he silently lifted his head to look at you.

Even looking at him caused a wave of nausea and guilt wash over you. Not a single inch of his skin was left unharmed by his own doing, and he seemingly refused to let them heal. His blood started to soak the carpet beneath him. Gyutaro slowly started to sit back upright, his spine cracking and breaking.

“Mh… mrrm.. am I-I allowed.. to la-lay beside you?”

💠

This took me multiple days to write so it may feel a little off. I loved writing this so much!! I always read the comments and reblogs, so don’t be shy to leave any! I appreciate every single one of you and the love you leave behind on my posts <3 I am currently working through my inbox, so expect more asks to be published over the week.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[mingi-s-dimples]

Primal Instinct - San

KINKTOBER DAY 11, REQ. BY @arki-sha

~"Hi Bia!!! I have a Werewolf San brainrot rn because I rewatched his Warriors dance cover so I'll request a Werewolf San x Human Reader.. So, San is in a rut but he doesn't want to spend it with the reader so he was deliberately avoiding her. And when the reader decided to go to San's apartment to confront him, she found out that San was in a rut and that's were the shit happens. As for the kinks, go wild with it girl. But I would like to have some size kink as well as man handling with it. Thank youuu!!!!"

pairing: werewolf!san x human fem!reader

genre: 18+, filth

summary: when you decide to confront San after days of him avoiding you, unknowingly step into the lair of a werewolf in rut, you ignite a night of uncontrollable desire and primal intensity.

wc: 3.7k

warnings: werewolf!san, san is in a rut, san is damn desperate and needy, biting, marking, predator/prey kinda feeling, making out, kissing, lots of cum, two rounds, wall sex, dinner table sex, neck holding, breast fondling, manhandling, big dick!san (obvi), some mentions of slightly bleeding marks because of his biting? ex reader's lip bleeding. unprotected (boooo wrap up irl!), completely consensual, unedited, might edit later, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: THIS IS TASTYYYY I LOVE ME SOME NEEDY DESPERATE SAN OMFG. He's so rough but needy and wjiebicjwicjshx I'm going insane. My love, I took EXTRA care of this fic and I hope it's up to your expectations ! Personally I lvoed writing it and I feel like I improved a lost since I first started writing here.. ☹️❤️ I love you and tysm for being one of my loyal followers until nowww 🫂💗

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the members in any way.

The chill of autumn had started to settle in, and with it, a strange tension that had been growing in the air. You could feel it creeping into the small space you and San shared, an undercurrent that had begun subtly but now lingered like a heavy fog. The house was quieter than usual, too quiet, and it had been that way for days. You’d grown accustomed to San’s presence, his warmth and affection filling the room with a sense of home. But lately, he’d been avoiding you, pulling away in ways that left you confused and worried.

San had always been open with you, even about the most complex aspects of his life as a werewolf. You had long since come to terms with it—his otherworldly strength, his heightened senses, the way his eyes sometimes glowed in the moonlight with a predatory gleam. These were parts of him you accepted, parts you even loved. Your relationship had always been built on trust and understanding, and San had always taken extra care to make sure you felt safe, no matter what side of him you were dealing with.

But now, for the past few days, something had changed. He had started to distance himself, keeping to his room and avoiding any close contact. At first, you thought maybe he was just going through something personal, something he needed time to work through on his own. But as the days dragged on, the silence between you two became unbearable.

It wasn’t like him. San was affectionate, constantly pulling you close, holding your hand, pressing soft kisses to your forehead in moments when words weren't needed. The absence of his touch had left a cold emptiness in its wake. You missed the way he’d look at you, his gaze filled with warmth and a deep, protective love. Now, he barely looked at you at all.

The curiosity gnawed at you, mingled with concern. What could be so bad that he had to lock himself away from you? What was he hiding?

Today, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had knocked on his door earlier, only for San to mutter something about being busy. But that excuse wasn’t going to work again. You stood outside his door now, hesitating for only a second before deciding that you needed answers. You loved San too much to let this strange distance go on any longer. If something was wrong, you deserved to know what it was.

Your hand hovered over the doorknob before you pushed it open, the soft creak of the wood breaking the silence in the hallway. The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight to keep the outside world at bay. San was sitting at the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, his body rigid with tension. His sharp features were drawn tight, and even from where you stood, you could sense the storm brewing inside him.

“San?” you called softly, stepping into the room.

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice, and for a brief moment, a flicker of something wild passed through his eyes before he quickly looked away, running a hand through his messy hair. “You shouldn’t be in here,” he said, his voice rougher than usual, strained.

You frowned, your concern deepening. “What’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me for days. I just want to know what’s wrong. Did I do something?”

San’s hands clenched into fists on his knees, the muscles in his arms tensing. “It’s not you,” he muttered, his voice so low it was almost a growl. “It’s me. You need to leave, *now*.”

His words stung, but more than that, they confused you. This wasn’t like him at all. You took a tentative step closer, refusing to back down. “I’m not going anywhere, San. Please, talk to me. Whatever this is, we can figure it out together.”

He stood up abruptly, turning away from you and facing the wall. His shoulders were broad, his back muscles taut under his shirt, as if he were holding himself together by sheer force of will. “You don’t understand,” he ground out. “I’m not safe to be around right now. I’m in a rut, Y/N. The first real one I’ve had in years.”

Your eyes widened in understanding as his words sank in. You had heard about werewolf ruts before, but this was the first time you were facing it with San. A rut was intense, primal, a period when his instincts were heightened to the point of losing control. San had always been careful about managing his shifts and moods around you, but this… this was something new, something that terrified him more than anything else.

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” you asked softly, stepping closer to him despite the warning in his voice.

He nodded, still facing away from you. “I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t trust myself right now.”

You could hear the pain in his voice, the guilt. He was trying to protect you from himself, but in doing so, he was shutting you out. You didn’t want that. You didn’t want him to face this alone.

Tentatively, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his back. He flinched at the touch, but he didn’t move away. Encouraged by the fact that he hadn’t pushed you aside, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

“I trust you,” you whispered against his back. “I know you won’t hurt me, San.”

His body trembled slightly under your touch, and for a moment, he seemed to struggle with himself, as if battling between the need to protect you and the overwhelming desire that was consuming him. Slowly, he turned around in your arms, his dark, intense eyes locking with yours. “I’m not sure if I can control myself,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You reached up, cupping his face gently in your hands. His skin was warm, almost burning under your touch. “I trust you,” you repeated softly, looking into his eyes. “I’m not afraid of you.”

San let out a shaky breath, his hands coming up to grip your arms, as if grounding himself in your presence. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours. His breath was hot and uneven against your lips, and you could feel the restraint in every muscle of his body.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a desperate whisper.

Before you could say anything more, his lips were on yours, the kiss deep and intense, as if he were pouring all of his pent-up emotions into it. It was raw, needy, but there was still tenderness in the way his hands cradled your face, as if even now, he was holding back for your sake.

You kissed him back, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer. The tension between you melted away as the kiss deepened, your bodies pressing together in a way that felt both familiar and new. His hands moved down to your waist, pulling you flush against him, but even in the heat of the moment, you could feel him trying to be gentle, trying to keep himself in check.

The kiss lingered, slow and passionate, until finally, San pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours again. His breathing was heavy, his eyes dark with unspoken emotions, but the storm inside him seemed to have calmed, at least for now.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice soft but full of gratitude.

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing through his hair. “I told you. I’m not afraid of you.”

San’s breath was ragged, his forehead still pressed to your shoulder as he fought to control the storm raging inside him. You felt his hands tremble against your waist, his claws teasing the edge of his control but never quite emerging. His body was all heat and tension, his breath coming faster now, more uneven.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he let his hands drift down your sides, fingers brushing along the fabric of your clothes. He gripped the hem of your shirt, his touch delicate, as if the very act of undressing you would shatter whatever fragile restraint he had left. His fingers dug into the fabric for a moment, and you felt the tension in him snap for just a second. He exhaled sharply, as if trying to talk himself out of it.

“I... I can’t,” San muttered, though his actions betrayed his words. His voice was low, raw, filled with a desperation that echoed his struggle. His hands, though trembling, began lifting your shirt, slowly revealing the skin beneath. His breath hitched at the sight, and you could feel his body tensing as his instincts warred with his will. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered, his voice thick with need, but his hands didn’t stop.

He pulled the fabric over your head with a swift motion, his touch growing bolder now, more confident. You watched as his eyes darkened further, the wolf in him creeping closer to the surface. His fingers grazed your bare skin, tracing the lines of your collarbone, down your arms, and across your waist with reverence. Every touch was electric, sending shivers through your body as he explored every inch of exposed skin.

“You’re making this so hard for me,” San growled, his voice deep and unsteady. His hands moved lower, fingers ghosting over the waistband of your pants, lingering there for a moment as he struggled to hold back. He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenched tight. “I should stop. I should walk away.”

But neither of you moved.

Instead, he tugged at the waistband, pulling your pants down in one rough motion, the fabric slipping from your body effortlessly. His breath caught in his throat, and he took a step back, looking at you as though you were something both sacred and dangerous. His hands reached out, but they hesitated, hovering just inches from your skin, the restraint in his body trembling like a wire about to snap.

“You don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “You don’t know what it’s like... to want something so badly but know you can’t... you *shouldn’t*...” His eyes traveled over you, wild and full of conflict, as his fingers finally found your skin again. His touch was slow, lingering, as though he was trying to savor the feel of you beneath his hands before he lost all control.

His hands were everywhere at once—tracing the line of your spine, sweeping across your waist, exploring the curve of your hip, and back up to your chest. His palms were rough but gentle, his fingers trembling as they brushed your bare skin with reverence, as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded. His breath was hot against your neck as he leaned in, his chest pressed against yours, and you could feel every rise and fall of his breathing, erratic and wild.

“I’m losing it,” he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. His forehead pressed against your collarbone, his lips brushing there, as if he couldn’t stop himself from kissing you. “I’m trying to hold back, but... I can’t, I can’t.” His words were almost a growl now, deep and rough as his hands gripped you tighter, his claws just barely grazing your skin.

You shivered as his lips traveled down the side of your neck, hot and desperate, his breath shaky as he fought to keep himself from slipping completely. His hands slid up your back, fingers tracing the lines of your body with such intensity that it felt as though he was memorizing every detail.

“I need to feel you,” he rasped, his voice filled with raw desire. His touch became more urgent, his hands pressing harder against your skin, his lips moving faster, more erratically. The restraint in him was slipping, unraveling with each passing second. His hands found your shoulders, then your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand the distance between you any longer.

He let out a low growl, his breath coming fast and ragged now. “I’m losing control,” he muttered through clenched teeth, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes were wild, dark with unrestrained emotion, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way he trembled against you.

And then, with a sharp inhale, something broke in him.

San’s hands gripped your waist with a sudden fierceness, pulling you tightly against him, his body pressing into yours with a desperate, wild energy. His mouth found yours again, the kiss deep and consuming, his restraint shattered completely. His hands roamed your body, no longer holding back, no longer gentle. He was wild, untamed, and you were swept up in the force of it, your body responding to his every touch as though you were made for this moment.

He growled against your lips, his breath hot and uneven. "I can't stop," he murmured between kisses, his voice rough with need. His hands gripped you tighter, as if the sensation of your skin beneath his fingers was the only thing keeping him from losing himself completely. "I can't hold back anymore."

And he didn’t.

--

San pushed you to the wall behind you, one hand behind your head to not hit it to the hard material. He leaned in for a kiss, his teeth grazing against your lower lip, biting it from time to time. He made it bleed, going even more insane about the taste of your lips.

"P-please... don't hold back" you said, barely above a whisper. He took your words seriously and put your hands above your head with his right hand, while his left hand took your panties off, threw them away and flew right back to your thighs. His sharp nails dug into your flesh, leaving soft, red marks all over.

"P-please forgive me.. if you get hurt by me." San said and moved his hand between your thighs, impatiently and softly hovering his fingers around, looking in your eyes. He was asking for permission. You moved yourself above his fingers and slowly let yourself down on his then, quietly moaning at his fingers finally inside you. His hands were huge, being a werewolf... even two of his fingers were stretching you the fuck out, tears forming in your eyes.

"San, voice low, almost a growl, "You have no damn idea how hard it's been to hold back, don't you?"

"San.." you breathed out, his fingers pumping in and out of you mercilessly.

San’s eyes flash with wild intensity. In an instant, his lips crash against yours, a rough, hungry kiss that leaves you breathless, tongues finding it's way and tasting every corner of your mouth.

Breaking the kiss, his breath hot against your neck, "You’re driving me insane... every part of me just wants to take you, make you mine in ways you can’t even imagine." He stopped finger-fucking you for a moment, breath hitched and your legs already trembling.

"I want all of you.. need to feel you, taste you.." he breathed out in an almost-primal tone, like you were his prey and you were his to go after.

"San, please.." you pleaded out, back softly arching against the wall, in search of any friction between your cunt and his fingers that were still resting.

"I see that you're... asking for my touch, hm?" San whined, in an almost desperate tone, basically exposing himself through his words. He was the one that wanted, needed you so bad.

"Y-yes.."

In an instant, he raised your leg up, placing it onto his hip. "I’m out of my mind with how much I need you. You'll take me right here—no hesitation, no waiting." he said as he raised your leg a bit, left your hands alone and fully thrusted in you, lubed up from your own arousal. He was fucking you against the wall, your hands reaching for his shoulder, holding on for dear life. Your legs were trembling, his long and girthy cock stretching you good as it always did.

"Fuck.. you feel so good.." he said as he rammed into you wildly, touching every sweet spot of yours, the friction overwhelming you. His lips went wandering around, marking you everywhere. He left kisses and bites all over your neck and collarbones, tasting your sweet flesh.

"Yes babe.. get it all out-" you muffled, but his lips found their way to yours, engaging in a rough, sloppy and messy kiss.

His nails dug into your flesh, his primal-like behavior sending you over the edge. Your back arched against the wall, San's hand finding it's way to the back of your neck. He held you close and still, as he thrusted in you a few times and came undone, filling you up to the brim. As you felt yourself get filled by his load, he fucked you through his high and his hand found it's way to your clit, rubbing circles all around. You squirmed a few times, overstimulation surging over you and the knot in your belly became undone, soft cries and moans leaving out of your slowly rising chest.

"You feel so good.. I don't know how I've waited until now. Every second without you is torture..." he said and embraced you, his cock still inches deep inside you. He lifted you up and dropped you on the dinner table you had in the living room, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

His breath was hot against your neck as he whispered, "I can't get enough of you," his lips grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling you closer as if the space between you was unbearable. The table beneath you creaked under the weight of your bodies, the edge pressing into your back as he leaned down, kissing you deeply, hungrily, with an urgency that made your heart race.

Your legs tightened around him, your heels digging into his lower back, urging him deeper. He let out a low, guttural sound of pleasure as he thrust into you, slow but deliberate, each movement intensifying the ache inside you. His fingers trailed up your sides, all the way up to your bare skin, fondling with your breasts, holding onto them.

With a wicked smile, he bit his lip, his eyes dark with desire as he watched the way your body responded to him. The rhythm of his hips became more insistent, and the friction between you built with every motion. You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling, bodies perfectly in sync.

"I want to hear you," he growled softly, his voice deep and raw with need, his hand slipping between your bodies, teasing the spot that made your whole body tremble. Every touch was electric, every sensation overwhelming, as the pressure inside you built to an irresistible peak. You arched your back, surrendering to the intensity, your nails digging into his shoulders as the room around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the heat of your bodies and the undeniable connection between you.

Time seemed to blur as the world outside faded, leaving only the pulse of your heart, the sound of his ragged breaths, and the undeniable fire between you, burning hotter with every second.

His thrusts grew more urgent, deeper, as if he was chasing the same release that had your body trembling in his arms. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the room, his grunts mixing with your breathless moans, the tension between you building to a breaking point. His fingers worked in perfect rhythm with his hips, pushing you closer, closer, until finally, the pleasure surged through you, crashing like a wave. You cried out his name, your body arching against him, tightening around him as the intensity consumed you.

San groaned low in his throat, the sound almost primal as he felt you pulse around him, the sensation driving him over the edge. His hips bucked one last time, deep and powerful, before you felt him cum inside you, his warmth filling you as he let out a broken moan, collapsing against you. His breath was heavy in your ear, his heartbeat racing against your chest as the two of you remained locked together, still trembling from the intensity of it all.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the room filled with the soft sound of your shared breathing. His arms wrapped around you tightly, protectively, as if he couldn’t bear to let go just yet. Gently, he shifted, pulling you into his chest, his lips pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your neck. His touch was tender now, his rough urgency replaced by a deep care, a need to hold you close.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, his voice softer now, full of concern as his fingers brushed through your hair, soothing you.

You nodded, still catching your breath, feeling the warmth of his body enveloping you, grounding you. His hands stroked your back in lazy, comforting circles, his lips never far from your skin. He held you as if you were fragile, like he wanted to protect you from everything, even though minutes ago, the world had disappeared in the heat between you.

San slowly pulled out of you, the absence leaving you feeling both empty and completely fulfilled, as he carefully helped you sit up on the edge of the table. He kissed your lips, slow and sweet, as if he had all the time in the world. Then, without saying a word, he scooped you up into his arms and carried you over to the couch, laying you down gently before settling next to you.

He tugged a soft blanket over your bodies, wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you close. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

"I love you," he whispered softly, his voice barely audible, but the emotion behind it was overwhelming. He kissed your temple, holding you tighter as you both drifted into a peaceful silence, your bodies still entwined, but now surrounded by a warmth that was so much more than just physical.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @woolysium @peachy-bell26

[heartsforvin]

Hey, it’s been a minute!! I got a request. Can you write a smut where reader is being a brat and Vinnie takes care of it! I can’t remember if I asked you to write one of these but if so then can you do it again ?? Like spanking and all that !! Thank youuu

CAN YOU TAKE IT?

i think you did request this awhile back but i def don’t mind doing it again !! thank you for the request !! <3

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cussing, use of y/n, use of pet names, dirty talk, slapping, spit play, praise / degradation (lil bit), creampie, nipple play, orgasm denial, lmk if i missed anything !!

summary: vinnie thinks you need another refresher so he puts you in your place once again. maybe this time you’ll learn

“you’re being a complete brat right now, you realize that?” vinnie yelled at you from across the room.

the two of you were on an on again off again argument for the past few hours now. been so long the two of you really forgot what it was originally about.

now it’s just yelling and name calling, mainly from vinnie’s end.

you can’t help but cross your arms over your chest, cocking your head to the side and staring at him.

“don’t fuckin’ look at me like that, y/n,”he warns, making you huff and walk away from him. “this isn’t gonna fix things!”

he lets it go, lets you just blow off some steam. it doesn’t last long though and you’re back in his face again.

“tell me who it was.” is all you say, making vinnie furrow his brows.

then it comes back to him — earlier in the day he had saw someone on twitter say they saw him flirting with some girl, some girl who definitely was not you.

“you don’t need to act like a baby about it.” he replies, making your irritation grow.

rolling your eyes, vinnie scoffed. “it was no big deal, i wasn’t even flirting with her!” he shouts.

“no big deal?!” you push his chest out of frustration, vinnie smirks when you don’t even get him to move an inch. “were you flirting with her or not?”

vinnie is stunned by your question, wondering how and why you would even think he’d flirt with another girl when he has you.

“of course i wasn’t. now will you stop actin’ this way?” his tone is becoming more demanding.

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you glare at him once again. vinnie reciprocates, giving you those warning eyes.

“i know you don’t want it, so stop, now.” he warns.

you however, give him a sly smile and shrug. “maybe i do.” is all you say.

you don’t want it, sometimes. you hate but love when vinnie puts you in your place for being a ‘brat’, as he puts it. yes the sex is good, amazing even, you just hate when he tries to tame you.

“seems like it’s the only way that’ll get you to believe me,” his breath is hot on your skin, mouth so close to your ear that he nips under it. “get undressed and on the bed before i get in there.”

even if you hate it at times, there are parts of you that loves this side of him. you do as told, trying to act all sly and like you don’t want this as you walk to your shared room.

vinnie comes in moments later, low groan erupting from his throat at the sight in front of him.

his hand travels to palm himself through his sweatpants. you look at him, he moves his hand and that’s when you see the prominent bulge in his pants.

“face down ass up.” is all he says after he takes his pants and shirt off.

you grab a pillow and put it under you before doing as he says. vinnie almost moans at the sight of your ass in the air for him.

he wastes no time going over to you. kneeling behind you, you hear him groan as wet sounds make an appearance too.

“gonna fill you up so good, baby. you’ll know who you belong to then.” he rasps as he pumps himself.

you shake your ass in his face and he smacks it, making you moan at the pleasure and pain. vinnie doesn’t warn you before he slides himself into you from behind, letting you take all of him.

“s-shit baby,” he says as he pushes himself into you more. “so fuckin’ wet f’me.”

he grabs your hips and helps you move back on him, moaning and whining as you do.

after awhile, vinnie decides to switch positions. now you lay on your back, one leg on his shoulder as he hits that spot nice and deep.

he watches as your tits bounce with each thrust. he attaches his lips to your right breast, making you push your head into the pillow.

“you wanna talk now, huh?” vinnie says as he fucks you harder. “had a lot to say ten minutes ago, go on, say it.”

all you can get out is moans of his name and profanities as he hits that one spot just right.

“fuckin’ you too good, huh mama?” the pet name makes you clench around him, making him moan.

he holds your leg up higher as he pounds into you at a endless pace, smacking your tits to get your attention.

it doesn’t work, only spurs your moans and whines on more, making vinnie scoff.

“you’re not supposed to enjoy this,” he says roughly. “too fuckin’ cock hungry, huh? such a slut f’me, aren’t you princess?”

you nod your head as you feel his left hand leave your hip and travel to your thigh.

he strokes the inside of your thigh lightly, making you moan out his name. “vinnie.” is all you can get out as his fingers gently glide against your soft skin.

he lets go of your leg and moves it off from his shoulder. you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him into you more.

“please baby,” you manage to get out, vinnie just looks at you with a smile. “please.”

he chuckles, grabbing one of your nipples and pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.

“use your words baby, be a good girl.” he tells you, making you clench around him again as he groans into your ear.

his hips move at a dangerous pace, almost splitting you in two as he fucks you rough.

you can barely get a word out like he told you too, only managing to say half his name before you’re cut off by a moan.

vinnie decides to play a bit with you. he reaches down to your clit and presses his thumb against it as he watches you tighten your legs around him.

“what do you want, pretty? come on, say it.” he says as he starts to rub circles on your clit.

you whine and clench around him as he toys with you. “g-gonna cum.” you manage to get out.

vinnie smirks as he looks up at you, thumb still rubbing circles.

he takes your left breast in his mouth and sucks and kisses it, creating a mark to claim he was there as he does.

you can feel yourself coming over the edge, panting out warnings to vinnie as you do.

right as your about to release, he removes his thumb from you with a smile.

“you think i’m just gonna give it to you?” he pokes his inside of his cheek with his tongue. “gonna have to work for it, mama.”

you roll your eyes at him and wrap your legs tighter around his waist as you grab his shoulders to lean him in closer to you.

vinnie smiles before he kisses you. it’s rough, hungry. he starts to move his hips again, gaining a steady rhythm.

your walls hug him so tight vinnie can’t help but groan as he thrusts in and out of you.

“open,” he says after a few minutes, he taps your cheek with his hand. his necklace chain dangles over you as he spits in your mouth, closing it with his hand and tapping your cheek again to swallow. “good girl.” he praises when you stick out your tongue for him.

his hands move to your chest again and he takes both breasts in each hand. you look down to see both his tattooed hands on you and can’t help but moan at the sight and feeling of him squeezing them.

“feel good?” he asks in a teasing tone as he watches you push your head into the pillow when he tweaks at both of your nipples.

you nod with a smile at the feeling of his hands on you and his cock making you feel so good.

vinnie moves his hand to your clit again, his left staying right where it’s at on your left breast.

“v-vinnie.” you moan as you feel his thumb on your clit again.

he smirks at you before leaning down and trailing kisses from your chest all the way to your thighs.

he watches himself thrust and and out of you at a fast pace, smiling before saying, “you gonna cum for me, baby?”

you bite your lip and nod, but vinnie shakes his head. “words mama, come on.” he encourages.

you let a moan slip before telling him you’re close. he smiles and kisses the inside of your left thigh as he speeds up his movements on your clit and his thrusts.

with one last thrust and a loud moan to his name you’re cumming on his cock, vinnie following behind you soon after.

he waits a minute before slowly pulling out, watching as yours and his cum seeps out of you.

he quickly pushes himself back in, making your combined juices do the same.

“look at that baby,” he breathes out, watching himself. “fuck.”

you smile as you watch him push your cum back inside you and watch it drip out again. after a minute or two, you both come back to reality and vinnie gets up to clean you up.

he cleans you up and get dressed again before dressing himself and changing the sheets.

once the sheets are changed he opens the bedroom door and hera immediately runs into the room and lays on the bed while you and vinnie snuggle into each other.

writing this at work slay !!! i hope you enjoyed rae !! thank you again for the request <33

tags: @cosmicanakin , @anqeliclust , @42angelgirl , @sturnioloshacker , @bernelflo , @slvthrs , @khackerr , @khxna , @hallecarey1 , @kayleighh , @eddieslut69 , @skye-44 , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @kriissy4gov , @miilzzy , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @laylasbunbunny , @supabhad , @leqonsluv3r , @violet0182 , @defnotayonna , @jpg3

[silentmagnolias]

Uninvited

Choso

Wc. 2501.

Summary: Sweet, utterly down bad Choso finds a pair of your panties falling out of your tote bag that you’d left in the bathroom floor of his apartment. What happens when you return unexpectedly to find him in the most compromising of positions?

Cw. Panty sniffing, masturbation.

“Ah, fuck I forgot my bag up at your place.,” you whined and cursed a little at the realization you’d left your bag—with your phone and clothes up the at the apartment Choso and Yuji shared.

Yuji snorted in response and Megumi raised a brow at your forgetfulness. You’d spent the majority of the summer with the trio (and occasionally, Yuji’s older brother, Choso) beating the heat in the complex’s ample swimming pool or galavanting around Tokyo on days you all weren’t on missions. Being an older, more experienced grade-one sorcerer, the trio had kind of unofficially adopted you as a mentor-turned-friend.

“I’m positive you’re going to have dementia by the time you’re 35.” Yuji joked from his place in the pool, attempting to swim on his back, earning a swift flick to the Adam’s apple from Nobara.

“You’re one to talk, you dunce.” She spat and Yuji instantly choked, righting himself in the water to throw her a petulant glare and rub a hand over the sore spot where she’d flicked him. You shook your head at the resulting banter that broke out between the two and snorted at the ‘please-god-make-it-stop’ glance Megumi threw in your direction. You snagged Yuji’s beach towel from the off-white deck chair and wrapped it around your middle, giving Megumi a sympathetic mock salute.

“I’ll be back!” You called over your shoulder and set off toward the apartment to grab your bag— and hopefully sneak a bite of whatever Choso had been cooking whenever you’d arrived earlier.

══════════════════

From the moment you had left to the pool with the younger sorcerers, Choso’s mind was on you, wandering to the way you’d stood so closely to him in the kitchen when you’d first greeted him— like you always did when you’d visit. You looked out for his little brother after all, so naturally he’d like you too. Maybe more than like. It was a warm, pleasant closeness that bloomed slowly over time, always casual. Always sweet. As he finished up in the kitchen, he allowed himself to think of something he’d shamelessly found himself indulging in as of late when he was alone.

A vision of domestic bliss— a sweet thought of you in the kitchen with him, wearing one of his T-shirts helping him learn to bake some horrendously sinful American recipe you liked to talk about.

Biscuits? Yeah, those.

Those are good. His eyes glazed over as he could practically see you in his T-shirt, smiling sweetly like you always did and talking to him as you sat on the countertop. He knew he was in trouble but he knew better than to jeopardize the friendship you’d built together. So he allowed himself to just stand there, head cocked to the side with his eyes glazed over, daydreaming of the things you’d talk about together sitting on that countertop.

He was so lost his reverie, he’d almost let the soup he had simmering boil over, but he fumbled and caught it just in time before turning the burner off and setting the pot to the side. He figured everyone would be up soon anyway, so might as well leave it out anyway.

His thoughts wandered once more to the way his T-shirt would probably hit just at the middle of your thighs and would ride up revealing the faintest slivers of the plushest parts of your upper thighs. He shivered at the thought.

God, he loved your thighs. Especially the way they looked in that bikini earlier... He cursed himself slightly for being too shy to join you at the pool but he couldn’t risk…. That happening. His gaze traveled down to the way his cock hung heavy in his pants, half hard already just thinking about your thighs. Thinking of the way they’d feel beneath the palms of his hands. The way the tops of them would pleasantly squish and give with every firm squeeze of his hand.

He swallowed thickly at the thought.

That was one physical aspect of his humanity he held immense disdain for. He felt pathetic popping a boner at the mere thought of your body and what made it worse, is lately it had become something that would be impossible to ignore until he relieved himself. Often, the nights you visited ended that way, with him in his bedroom whining and fucking his hand until he made the biggest mess of himself.

But even that wasn’t relieving. No.

No.

He needed more— something To make himself feel better.

How frustrating.

With a shaky sigh, he made his way to the restroom to grab the new bottle of lotion he’d purchased just for this purpose only to stop in his tracks at the sight of your tote bag on the floor. Your tote bag that had your clothes haphazardly falling out of the bag— including a pair of skimpy grey, rib knit panties.

Oh.

Choso’s breath quickened at the litany of impure, very human thoughts running through his mind coupled with an undertone of deep shame that almost made him leave the bathroom and opt to jack himself off with spit instead.

It wouldn’t hurt to just look, right? To feel them..

His hands twitched at his sides in the open doorway of the bathroom as he contemplated his actions.

But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering as he stared at the skimpy fabric of your panties— how you smelled there. He loved your scent, always lingering for an extra moment when you’d hug him just to breathe deeply and relish the soapy, vanilla vibe you filled his nose with—The smell of you permeating his soul when you were near. That had to be nirvana.

He gulped down the remainder of his trepidation and decidedly stepped inside the bathroom, shutting the door in a hurry and sitting himself down on the closed lid of the commode.

He reached down gingerly to grab the ruddy old tote bag and carefully sifted through its contents as if he were performing the most delicate task. He pulled out your T shirt and instantly brought the soft cotton to his nose, inhaling deeply, a low rumble of pleasure emanating deep from within his chest.

The smell of you was like an instant balm to his nerves, drowning out remaining apprehension he had in his mind. He could always wash everything, making sure you came back up from the pool to a warm meal and fresh-out-the-dryer clothes.

He inhaled greedily again, his cock now aching and his heart bounding in his chest from the excitement of the situation. He’d never done anything like this before.. but you smelled so good.

Eager for more, and more than a little high from his actions, he reached straight for what he’d really been curious about— the panties. They were surprisingly light and soft between his fingers, the lace trim and rib knit material providing deliciously contrasting sensations against his fingertips. He let out a shuddering breath as he held them up, inspecting them, taking in and imagining the thought of them snug against your hips and ample bottom. Against the space between your legs. It was enough to make his mouth water.

Without thinking about any further, he brought the material to his nose to inhale and he was most definitely not disappointed. His eyes rolled back in his head at the musky, heady scent of you that enveloped him. This felt like an entirely different level of wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. He was curious and completely down bad for you, that he couldn’t deny.

His breath came in gasps as he practically jerked his pants down to free his rigid cock from the fabric’s confines. He was already practically oozing pre-come from his flushed tip and his hips twitched and rolled of their own accord from excitement, a broken rhythm that demanded him give into his desire. So he did.

Choso bargained with himself that he’d do what he needed to do and rush everything straight to the washer so that you’d have fresh, warm clothes waiting for you by the time you got back. You’d be none the wiser.

Hopefully.

He spit quickly into the palm of his hand, wanting to waste no time and wrapped his hand around his cock to give himself what he craved. He set the pace, rotating his wrist in a way he knew would bring him to the heights he wanted to reach and crushed your panties against his nose once more, groaning low in his chest as the scent of you overtook him.

Something about adding the smell between your legs to this shameful little routine of his made him feel like a complete mess in no time at all. He was filthy for this but he didn’t care. He wanted, no, needed you in any way he could have you.

Your scent pushed him forward in an almost animalistic way, driving the tension in his belly to an almost unbearable level. He never knew he could feel this good by simply smelling you while he did this..

Choso fucked up into his hand aggressively with nothing but you on his mind, his toned abdominals flexing with exertion as he chased his high. He let his head fall back, still holding the fabric of your panties to his nose like a man possessed. His jaw had fallen slack now and a series of desperate, pathetic whimpers fell from his lips as he greedily inhaled you, committing your scent deep into his memory.

Pathetic. He was pathetic.

But so, so close.

A part of him was ready to get this over with, just so he could be in the clear from potentially getting caught so he could wallow in shame in peace but another part of him.. another sick, twisted part of him wanted this moment to never end. He wanted to feel good and he wanted YOU to be what made him feel good— even if this was all he could get.

Choso’s chest heaved and his cock leaked with every bounding pulse of his excitement. The pleasure was building white-hot deep in his belly in a way that was almost overstimulating.. but he couldn’t stop. Not yet.

So close.

In a split second moment of filthy desperation and bid for closeness he’d likely never get, he brought his other hand— and your panties down to wrap around the aching head of his cock. A dark splotch quickly bloomed against the grey fabric from where he practically dripped and he pulled his bottom lip through his teeth imagining himself making a mess of those pretty panties while you wore them. Yes. That’s what he wanted. He imagined your eyes heavy lidded and you staring down at him, whispering the filthiest things to him as he jerked off against your clothed cunt. He envisioned your hands touching him instead of his, the way your delicate little fingers would wrap around him. If only..

The tension continued to mount until it was unbearable and his breath came in ragged gasps. He almost missed the sound of the front door to the apartment opening and the hurried footsteps that stopped in front of the bathroom door.

Almost.

But he was too far gone to stop himself— with one more heave of his chest and jerk of his hips, Choso’s orgasm barreled through him with an intensity unlike anything he’d ever experienced and he was lost. Ruined.

It was euphoric.

His eyes rolled back and his cock filled your panties (and his hand) with an inhuman amount of sticky cum. Just when he’d think it was over, another thick, pearlescent spurt oozed into the ruined fabric of your panties. He bucked into his hand a few more times in a bid to prolong things, carrying himself through the remaining haze completely oblivious for a split second to the wide eyes that now watched from the open door.

You stood there utterly speechless at the sight before you when you’d opened the door. Your throat went dry as you studied the way Choso’s hips bucked out the remainder of his orgasm against his hands, the flex of his biceps and abs, the way his head was tilted back and his face contorted into something utterly sinful. The way your panties were now bathed in the most obscene amount of cum you’d ever laid eyes on— panties you’d been wearing just an hour before.

It was a few seconds that felt as if they’d stretched an entire eternity. A moment that left you feeling as if you were under water, unable to breathe. If Choso had felt that way about you, he’d never made any indication— sure, he was warm toward you, but Choso was that way with everyone he allowed into his inner circle. Ever enigmatic he was, no-nonsense a fair majority of the time in every day life, sprinkled in with that unmistakable softness and warmth in private. He’d always welcomed you into his home and had become someone you confided in. He was easy to talk to.

Choso’s eyes fluttered open and locked onto yours, having finally taken notice of you and his stomach instantly dropped at the sight of you in the doorway. He started to say something, to protest but you shut the door before he could call your name, effectively cutting him off. You stood there for a moment wondering what the fuck you had just hallucinated— it had to have been a hallucination, right?

Right?

You opened the door again to confirm that you had not been hallucinating. He was still there, your come-soaked panties still in hand staring at you like a deer in the headlights.

Of all the things you’d walked in on Choso doing, it had to be this. It wasn’t like you could judge though— in some sick way, you actually kind of understood.

It wasn’t like you weren’t similar or anything, after all. Like you hadn’t hoarded the one T-shirt he’d let you borrow months ago beside your pillow to sniff every night because he just smelled that fucking good. An intoxicating mix of soft earthiness, clean skin and something unmistakably sharp.

Okay, so maybe you really understood. Fuck.

You were interrupted from your brief inner monologue by the sound of Choso’s voice tentatively calling out your name. His cock had softened enough to be partially obscured by your panties, but the copious mess remained and stood out more against the fabric and his fair skin now that his cock wasn’t at attention. In any other circumstance, you’d be impressed with the sheer amount of cum that could come from one man, but all you could think of in the moment was the fact that Choso— your friend had pleasured himself with your panties.

“I’ll wash them. I’m sorry. I— I couldn’t. I just. I—.” He started trying to explain himself but you shook your head in response, effectively shutting him up again.

“You don’t owe me an explanation.” You finally managed hoarsely after a few moments of careful consideration, trying with all your might to keep your eyes on his and not the mess between his legs. You opened your mouth to speak again when you were jolted by the sound of the front door abruptly opening and Yuji’s voice calling out your name.

In a split second decision you stepped inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and locking it. Choso looked like he was about to short circuit, sitting there wide eyed thinking of where he’d even begin trying to explain this to Yuji..

“Of course..” You hissed under your breath, knowing that there was only one thing to do. You weren’t about to let Choso be found in such a compromising position (and you weren’t about to throw him under the bus either) so you turned to him and put a finger to your lips, a silent request to keep quiet.

“I’m in here! My stomach hurts…” you called out and flicked the bathroom fan on in hopes of muffling any extra noise that may give the two of you away. You back up slightly away from the door and immediately recoil when you step in something wet, your expression screwing up into one of silent panic when you realized what it was.

What a fucking situation to be caught in.

Part 2??

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Moves

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: loosely based off Suki Waterhouse's Moves. It was also supposed to be SMUT, but apparently that wasn't meant to be.

Author's note 2: y'all I meant to post this earlier but got distracted.

Summary: Y/n has had feelings for Andrew for a while now, and she's pretty sure he feels the same. Can one night change everything?

Warnings: unrequited love, but also, more requited than not.

She likes him – maybe its a little more than like, at this point. She adores the colour of his eyes, the way they’re green when its bright out, but then when they meet at dimly lit pubs or he hangs around late at night and neither of them bothers to turn on an overhead light, they’re this dark, hazel hue. She is thrilled by his laugh – not the polite courtesy chuckle he spares when someone tells a joke that isn’t even funny – she means that full bodied sound that erupts from his throat when they’re watching that one episode of that one show, the way he rocks backwards a little and rests his hand over his chest. And there’s something about the way he says her name too, that makes Y/n giddy inside, especially when she picks up his call late at night, while he’s on tour and the rest of the band is asleep but he can’t seem to keep his eyes shut without her voice being the last thing he hears before doing it.

Andrew told her that once;

"I don't think I could sleep if I tried....I need to talk to you first. Hear your voice so I can just...."

"Just what?"

He paused, hesitating, "nothing, I just like the way you sound. That's all."

Y/n could have sworn that it would have been the call that changed everything. She'd held her breath until around two am, when he finally yawned and said he was going to try to get some sleep.

He must feel the same, Y/n determined shortly after that. Because friends don’t sling their long arms around your shoulders, or kiss your forehead right after pulling you against them.

Friends don’t have moments where their lips get so close to the other’s that it won’t expend any real effort to make them to touch.

Andrew was the one to pull away that night and apologize profusely before blaming it on the liquor. She’s never told him, but she wishes he hadn’t. She thinks about it so painfully often that she swears the memory is burning a hole into her heart – the ache of what could've been, but isn’t.

Y/n is thinking about it tonight. They’re sitting on Andrew's back porch, a bottle of wine shared between them. The backyard is illuminated by the light over the wide, glass door that separates his kitchen from the deck, and the blue hued, inground lights that give the pool that sits between his house and the foliage bordering the woods a glacial glow. Off in the distance, she can hear crickets and the occasional rustle of some other, nocturnal creature moving through the trees.

The mood would be entirely romantic if it weren’t for the smell of barbeque and booze clinging to the thick, humid air. It's why they’re outside; its unusually warm and sticky for an Irish October, but Andrew has informed her its becoming typical for this time of the year. He also said that being outside helps, but Y/n thinks that was just an excuse for them to sit outside in hopes that the fresh air would sober them up.

But she doesn’t particularly mind – even if she’s been bitten by a couple mosquitoes.

Everyone else is long gone, and he'd asked her to stay back for a few more drinks while she helped him cram leftovers into his fridge. Its not unusual for her to be the only one left at his place – or vise versa – so Y/n is used to being alone in Andrew’s presence. In fact, she thinks she prefers when its just the pair of them, occupying a quiet space saying nothing but whatever pops into their somewhat inebriated minds;

“I read this poem that made me think of you.”

“I bought you a jacket, but I forgot to pack it.”

“Have you read that book I told you about?”

“Would you read this thing I wrote?” He asks after a couple hours of them going around in circles of menial chatter. Of late, everything Andrew writes is about her, and while he’s thought of telling her that more times than he can count, he can't seem to force the words out of his mouth. It isn’t even that he’s intimidated by her – that would be far too uncomplicated for an overthinker of his caliber. No.

He could never be intimidated by Y/n anyway; he’s known her for too long, too well. She’s the person that puts him most at ease; his heart doesn’t quicken when she touches his arm the way she’s touching it now as she says, “Of course, I’d love to.” In fact, the tick in his chest slows when she does that, he isn't nervous or worried or anything, he's just…. happy. And though her hands are usually so cold, Andrew swears there’s a tingle permeating the thin fabric of his grey Henley when she touches him.

Their eyes meet as Y/n promises to read what he’s written and she finds herself drawing in a shallow breath. There’s something else on the barest top of her liquor-stained tongue, but its refusing to break past her lips;

“I’ll read anything you write. I’d do anything for you, really.”

“Great, great,” Andrew beams suddenly, straightening his back before standing with purpose. “I’m gonna get it, wait here.” He doesn’t wait for Y/n to respond, not even with a nod, before disappearing into the house.

While he’s gone, Y/n tops off those sleek, stemless wine glasses with the remainder of the chilled Sauvignon Blanc and takes a sip of hers, hoping it’ll help combat the sticky heat that’s surrounding the property. She knows she probably shouldn't have anymore; her head is already fuzzy and there’s that tell tale film over her eyes. The one that makes lights stretch out like shooting stars and makes you feel like you're walking through a dream. Andrew must not be any better either, because he stumbled over all too familiar steps on his way back into the house.

“Got it,” he announces as he returns to the patio, raising the notebook over the head in triumph. Andrew is less than graceful when he retires next to her again, dropping the book into her lap. After a lengthy sip of his wine, he leans back onto his elbows. “It's the last thing in there,” his cheeks heat up, the dusty red colour creeping up his cheeks, towards his ears.

He’s a funny sort of drunk; chatty and able to make a joke of literally anything. He’s flirty too, yet somehow retaining his usual reserve. When they venture to pubs, he’ll flirt his way right into a one night stand without even realizing it, and then slink back to her side, rattling off an excuse involving the words, “ehm, well, she isn’t really my type.”

“Yeah? What is your type?” She’d ask, eyes challenging him.

He’ll look at her for a bit longer than usual, squirting his eyes a little as his waning smile fades completely. “Doesn’t matter,” he’ll eventually say dismissively, covering his words with a swing of his drink before changing the topic.

“Its not finished yet,” he mumbles as Y/n finds the page.

“It looks finished,” Y/n frowns, looking down at the way he’s signed the bottom of the page, the way he usually does after scrawling out the final words.

Andrew shakes his head, “ehm, I mean….the idea. I’m not done with the idea.”

“Oh.” They lapse into easy silence when she starts reading, meticulously scanning every line, barely restraining herself from ghosting her thumb over his hurried, untidy penmanship. Y/n can feel Andrew’s eyes on her as she reads. He's still laid back and propped on one elbow as he steadily sips his wine while she tries to get her hazy mind to comprehend everything on the page.

Its a love song or a profession – or she’s pretty fucking drunk and has lost all ability to to comprehend words.

No, its definitely a confession. A beautifully written one. Of course everything he writes is always much akin to poetry; but with this, every word is strung together like tiny bulbs in a reel of fairy lights. Each one in perfect harmony with the other. They’re carefully chosen, as if just one were missing its entire, delicate balance would be pitched into uncertainty.

“Andrew….” He sits up, draining the last of his wine as she lifts her head from the page.

“Is it bad? The worst fuckin’ thing I’ve ever written?” He chuckles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he flashes her a lopsided smile.

“It's beautiful,” Y/n rasps, suddenly feeling like the air’s been knocked from her chest, or like she’s been running too fast. There’s something besides the night’s oppressive heat surrounding them, something fragile and precious. Part of her wants to say something else, she can see on his face that he’s aching for more, but Y/n is absolutely terrified that if she does, it’ll be the wrong thing and the moment will be shattered into a million little pieces, scattered across the forests behind his house by an unexpected breeze, the way it happened on a night all too similar to this one.

“But?” Andrew is the one that dares to speak, the word uttered softly and with the weight of reproach clinging to its single syllable.

God, what if he’s ruined everything? What if the reason he’s never been able to tell Y/n the way he feels is because a morsel deep within him knows she doesn’t return his feelings. Andrew doesn’t even know if she’s interested in a relationship – or anything adjacent – right now, she doesn’t talk about going on dates and or fancying anyone.

What if the reason she never talks about other men is because she’s somehow gathered how he feels and is trying to protect him from the hurt? That would be awfully cruel, but he supposes it's the kindest thing she can do without ruining their friendship.

“But….” Right before her, in a matter of seconds, a dozen emotions cross Andrew's face and Y/n realizes that, if she’d been in front of a mirror the night he told her he likes hearing her voice before he goes to sleep, this is what she might have seen reflected in it. That cautious hope, with a bit of fear sprinkled in.

Upon realizing that there's no ‘perfect’ thing to say, Y/n hastily leans forward and rests her lips on his, in a chaste, close-mouthed kiss. He’s shocked at first, she can feel it in the way he stiffens. But after another couple breaths spent like that, Andrew wraps an arm around her, flattening his palm on the center of her back. As he relaxes, Y/n deepens the kiss, deserting the book in her lap to cup his face. His beard tickles the inside of her hands, just like she’s always imagined it would, and his tongue and lips are sweet with the wine’s fruity notes.

When they break, faces only inches apart, Andrew lets out a shaking breath while Y/n holds onto hers. “God….I don’t think I would’ve ever done that,” he admits, shoulders rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths.

Sometimes he wishes he had her courage, but most times, he’s glad its hers.

A hint of a smile tugs at her kiss-swollen lips. “I know,” she laughs softly, the sound airy and musical.

Her eyes are twinkling, like two stars plucked from right over the vast bed of darkness hung over their heads. Andrew is certain that no two stars have ever shone brighter, so its fitting that they belong to her – the most dazzling person he knows. Setting his glass down, he lifts his free hand to her cheek, rough pad of his thumb tracing her lips. “I’ve been thinking about it for a damn long time,” he admits. It's hard for him to put a definite number to it, it might as well have been very soon after they met.

“Me too,” Y/n rests her hand over his wrist, offering it an affectionate squeeze.

“I think…..” he trails off, struggling to keep a firm grip on his thoughts. His imagination is running a little wild right now; his mind is already churning out thoughts of his future as it changes shape. It's funny to him how one thing can change everything else.

One kiss, and he swears he’s seeing the rest of his life. Holding it.

“Sshh, we don’t have to talk about it tonight,” Y/n whispers. Talking complicates – they’ve been talking for too damn long anyway, and knowing Andrew, his brain is already three weeks ahead of him. Its sweet actually, because every plan she’s made for her future has been built around him, and now suddenly, he’s doing the same thing. “Lets just….”

“Just what?”

“Do this,” in an instant, Y/n closes the space between them again and seals her lips over Andrew’s. That time, he responds immediately, pulling her against him until the only thing left for her to do is slide her leg over his thighs and shuffle into his lap, pressing her chest to his and draping one arm over his shoulder while she keeps her other against his cheek. The way his beard scratches the area around her mouth makes her smile, and she thinks its something she'll get used to quickly.

All of it is so close to being as commonplace his arm slung around her shoulders and the sound of his voice coming through her phone while there’s a timezone and entire ocean between them. The way his mouth moves against hers, the heat of his hands as they hold onto her waist, the sound of his voice as he says;

“I’m glad you stayed.”