#i thought of all of this within two hours and now i have to continue with fremimay and not linger on a new au

[lily-jaxk]

MC Twin AU - CALEB'S Spitfire [18+]

[ minors do not interact. By choosing to interact with this content, you 🫵 have consented to viewing something not safe for work despite the warnings. ] trigger warnings !! this is 18+ content. contains mentions and/or descriptions of man handling, choking, aka caleb and name being FREAAKKKSS

"So, what do you think of getting him?" your sister asks as you walk through the mall, her eyes on her phone and one hand holding on to your arm so she wouldn't get lost.

You hum and glance around. "I don't know...." You mumble, furrowing your brow in thought. "I mean, what do you get for your rich boyfriend? He got that Colonel's salary you know? He's rich rich."

"Poison his food. Then steal all his money -"

" - What did he do this time?"

"He beat me at Kitty Cards."

". . . . I'll consider it."

It had been a few months since Caleb had practically plopped himself back into your life. You had agreed that you would continue living in Linkon while he lives in Skyhaven. Mainly because of your jobs and because staying with Caleb in Skyhaven would bring a lot of attention to you that you sure as heck didn't want.

When MC found out Caleb was alive, and found you cooking breakfast for the three of you the next morning, instead of demanding for an explanation from you, she had cocked her gun and aimed it at Caleb. "Sis what the fuck -"

"Make her cry again -" MC had hissed out, "and I'll kill you myself. Got it?!"

Yep. Your sister was a badass.

Now, the two of you were back in Linkon, and you were going to stay with Caleb for two weeks using your vacation hours. The only reason why you were in the mall was that you realized that you had never given Caleb a gift.

Why did that matter? Well it was because you noticed Caleb had been fingering with the dog tag MC had given him, and an uncomfortable amount of jealousy had risen up from within your heart.

You had to give him something that was yours. Because he was yours. Not MC's. Yours.

You blink. Woah, you gotta get that possessiveness under control.

"Ok so, it has to be something small, or something he can wear discreetly." MC's voice interrupts your mind making you focus on her again. "Maybe a necklace? A choker?"

"As hot as giving him a choker is, not sure that's a good idea." Hmmm you could just imagine it, his red face dripping with tears as he rests his head on your thigh, choking as you yank him closer with the choker, a small whimper -

"Ew." A snack lands on your head, making you let out a yelp. "Get that stupid look off your face. You disgust me; you both disgust me."

You give your sister a scowl. "Says the person that told me in explicit detail as to how she wanted to peg her boyfriend!"

"Look at me and tell me they don't look pegable."

"I won't because I only have eyes for my beautiful Colonel, fish freak."

"Says you!?"

The two continue your bickering as you move through the mall, dodging attacks you send at each other with relative ease. "Ok but really, what are you thinking?" MC asks, stopping in front of you and placing her hands on her hips. "Something expensive? Something cheap? A gag gift?"

You raise a brow at MC. "Gag gift?"

"If you give him a stick and yell out 'fetch!', I bet you he would actually fetch."

. . . . "You're right." You let out a small sigh, glancing around. Gosh, this was hard. What could you give Caleb?

Giving him a dogtag didnt seem right because he already had one. You wanted to give him something that only belonged to the two of you. But what could it be?

Something sparkles at the corner of your eye, and you turn your head to glance at the little store. "Huh. . . ." you murmur, ignoring your sister's questioning hum as you walk toward the glass cage. "This is pretty."

It was pretty perfect and actually affordable considering the fucking economy.

"Perfect."

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

"I got you a gift." You tell Caleb as he picks you up, pressing a small kiss on his lips before sliding into the passenger seat. "I won't give you until we get home though, and have eaten food."

He pouts and leans towards you again for another kiss, but you easily lean even farther away from him. "Spitfire," he pouts even more, before straightening in his seat and starting the car. "You're so mean."

"Mean my ass. You're just spoiled." You snort, picking up your phone and opening up your game, fingers flying across the screen as the game finally finishes loading. "MC says hi by the way, and asks that you try to come to Linkon for some annual beach trip or something? I honestly wasn't paying attention."

"Hm, I was already planning on coming. Just gotta fix a few more issues at work." Caleb hums and stops at the red light, glancing at you. "Wanna come with us? It'll be funn.."

"No thanks. The hot sun? and me? Hell no. I'm staying indoors where I can play my games in peace."

Caleb snorts with amusement. "If you say so."

The car ride continues peacefully, with you rambling about work as you continue to play your game, while pop music blasts from the car. When you finally arrive, you let out a small yelp as Caleb turns off the car and rushes over to lift you out of the car, letting out a squeal as he tosses you over his shoulder. "Caleb! Put me down now!"

"No can do!" He laughs and rushes inside, ignoring the way your hands pounded on his back. When he gets inside, he spins around making a startle laugh escape your lips. "Dizzy yet spitfire?"

"Put! Me! Down!"

"What was that? Spin some more? Ok then!"

"Calebbbbb!"

After a few more seconds, Caleb finally stops, gently placing you on his couch as you try and get your bearings back. He laughs softly as he gets on his knees in front of you, purple eyes sparkling gently with amusement and adoration evident. "Adorable." He says, his hands moving to remove your shoes and put them aside. "My adorable spitfire."

You huff. "Complimenting me won't make me forgive you so easily punk!"

"Aww babe. Pretty please? I was just trying to have fun with you." He laughs, lesbian up to press a small kiss on your lips. "Pretty please beautiful stunning gorgeous lady?"

You huff again. It sucked how you couldn't stay mad at him. He was cheating, Caleb was cheating!

Well, you could be mad at him later. At the rate things were going, you were going to forget to give him his gift! "I'll fight you later. I have something for you remember?" You sigh, reaching into your pocket as Caleb stares at you questioningly. You pat the spot next to you, trying to ignore the way butterflies started flapping in your stomach. You could do this, you could do this! "Sit."

"Yes ma'am." Caleb pips up, a smile on his face as he sits next to you, cocking his head as you turn to face him. "Is everything alright spitfire?"

You purse your lips. "I got you a gift." You say for the umpteenth time, and before you could second guess yourself, you reach out to gently grab Caleb's much bigger hands. "This isn't a wedding ring...yet." you say, slowly placing the small silver band with small precise decorations all around it, on his ring finger. "It's just....a little something from me to you."

"I notice that you keep playing with the dog tag MC gave you!" You ramble when Caleb remains silent, fiddling with your hands nervously. "And....well to be completely honest sometimes I get a little jealous. Nothing against you or MC though! You've known each other longer than you've known me so of course you would treasure that gift more! But I just thought that maybe you'd wear something I got for you as well! To well.... just something to remember me by- MMPH?!"

You were interrupted by lips suddenly capturing yours, and with a yelp you fall backwards on the couch, Caleb moving above you. "It's perfect." He growls, kissing you again and pushing his tongue into your mouth, messily kissing you. "It's so fucking perfect baby. God, why didn't I think of getting you a ring first?"

You laugh as best as you could, panting as you gaze up at Caleb's darkened amethyst eyes. "I take it that you like the gift?"

"I fucking love it." Caleb grunts, one hand rising to cup your face, the other trailing slowly downhill making heat pool in your stomach. "I'll wear it all the time." He vows, placing open mouthed kisses on your jaw. "Every second, every hour, every day."

Oh.

Oh.

And if that didn't make your heart beat fast with excitement at the thought. Everyone thinking that the Colonel was married? Meaning no one would have second thoughts about going after him while you were in Linkon.

Yep. You were a genius.

"i should get a reward for getting you such a nice gift, right?" You whisper, giggling softly when you feel Caleb freeze above you. Laughter erupts from your lips as Caleb scrambles off you, then picks you up to toss your body over his shoulder once again, then rush to his bedroom. He throws you to the bed, then slips in-between your legs, wrapping them around his waist.

Suddenly, you feel pressure push down on your body, and your eyes widen when you realize he was using his Evol on you. "Caleb"

"Do you trust me?" He whispers, leaning down to trail kisses down from your lips, to your neck, and to your chest after he unbuttoned your shirt. You shiver as he glances up at you with a heated gaze, licking your suddenly dry lips in an attempt to calm yourself. "Spitfire," he asks again. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." You breathe out, and suddenly the pressure is gone, and your turned around, your face down on the pillow and Caleb's hands on your hips as he tugs your pants and panties off, pulling your hips up so you back was in an arch. "Let me take this off." You hear him mumble, and glance to the side to see him toss away something from his neck.

Something being.

MC's dogtag.

Your eyes widen, but before you could really say anything about it, you feel him roll his hips against your back, and you let out a loud whine. "Caleb!"

"It's alright spitfire, I gotcha." He chuckles, moving away from you making you want to cry, but his Evol made your head stay in place, pressed down on your pillow, and it took every restraint in your body not to just break down and beg him.

Caleb pushes against you again, this time very naked and very, very hard, and you let out a shuddered breath, your muscles tightening in anticipation. You gasp and let out a loud groan as he pushed in, the pressure in your stomach curling tight as he sank in inch after delicious inch.

He wasn't even half away, and your mind was already gone.

"H-hah . . . I'm not even fully in, and my pretty girl is already drooling and looking all dumb." Caleb murmurs, pushing in another slow inch making you choke on your breathe. "Fuck! You're squeezing me so tight baby. My pretty girl doesn't wanna let me go so easily huh?"

"To...too much-"

"You can take it. You've taken it allll before remember?" He laughs, another inch going in before he finally bottoms out, and a loud moan escapes your lips. "Atta girl. That's my good girl." He leaves a sloppy kiss on your cheek, and then-

-He begins to move.

You nearly come right there and then, his pace making you choke on your scream and drool to drop down to the pillow. With the pressure of his Evol pressing down on you, and the pace he was going at?!

Good lord, this had to be heaven. It just had to be!

You blink with confusion when, after who knows how long of him pounding into you, he stops, the pressure of his Evol lifting away from you. A whine nearly leaves your lips, the only thing stopping you being the feeling of Caleb thick arm wrapped around your throat in a headlock while he starts to pound you from behind again, the soft coo of his voice a stark contrast from the way his cock assaults your poor fluttering cunt, "Look at you take it like such a good girl, huh? You like it when I get a little rough with you?"

"I-" You choke, tears dripping from your eyes as he lifts you up, your mouth dropping open with a silent scream.

"Yeah, you do. I can feel you clenching around me." You can pratically hear the smirk in his voice. "My pretty girl acting all nasty like this. So fucking addicting."

"Caleb, please!"

What were you begging for?? For him to stop?? For him to go harder??

“Don’t worry, spitfire,” he pants, pressing back into you with a broken groan. “I’m not done with you. Need to make you lose your mind, nned to make my pretty girl so dumb and cock drunk. Only focus on me and my cock, can you do that for me pretty girl? I bet you can.”

You feel his arm tighten around you, and your mind blanks out with pleasure. You can feel him shaking behind you, hear how close he was in the he whispers, “Gonna come inside you, fill you up—fuck—gonna mark you, you want that?” he murmurs, thrusts turning more erratic. “Then you gotta come for me, pretty girl. Come on, I know you can do it for me. Come for me. Come.”

An obscene moan that makes you flush escapes your mouth, and you shudder around him as you finally come, the only thing keeping you up being Caleb's arm around your neck. You hear him let out a small curse and shriek when his fingers glide down your front, rolling and pinching your throbbing clit with the intent to make you flutter around him. "Too- too much!" You sob, shaking in his arms. "Cale- Caleb-"

"One more." He murmurs, rubbing your clit even more as he thrusted into you. "Just one more, alright? Can you do that for me spitfire? Just one more?"

You begin to lose track of time. Minutes turn into hours, hours blur into one long, aching haze of pleasure. He takes you every way he can, and in every spot in the bedroom. On your back, on your side, with your leg hitched around his waist, but those were merely on the bed.

Then he moved to the wall, fucking into you so hard that he had to hold your legs up around his waist due to how limp you had gotten.

One more had turned into two more, then three, then four, then finally, finally, he stopped.

You twitch on the bed hours later after he cleans you up, mumbling incoherent words as he gently pulls you to his chest. "All because of a ring," you mutter, interlocking your hands together. "You took my ability to walk, all because of a ring."

You feel him laugh, and Caleb raises your hand to press a small kiss on the spot on your ring finger where a ring would be - if you had one. "I'll take care of you tomorrow, or however long it takes to satisfy you." He promises, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then gently raises your head up to kiss your lips. "I love the ring," he continues a small blissful smile on his lips, making your heart flutter. "Thank you so much, [Name]"

That smile. That smile on his lips made it all worth it.

Taglist - @sleepydang @junrui @animecrazy76 @smoophie @young-adult-summer @snowdynasty @maskedbunni @patatos14 @dana-nite @mentaltrouble2201

taglist is small because these were the names I found in the caleb section that A) requested and B) claimed to be 18+ in their blogs.

Gulps....i hope I did good...I havent written smut in years so I hope you all like it...

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Caleb | 18+

[hearteyes4logan]

after hours — cs⁵⁵ carlos sainz x fem!readerequested by no one word count: slight smut

warning: slight mentions of sex

Gif by @rb19 on Tumblr!

synopsis: you could barely even remember the club last night.. let alone ending up in carlos sainz's bedroom

The music was way too loud. Which honestly, was the point. You didn't come to the club to dance, be friendly with strangers — no, your goal was to get insanely drunk. To forget.

To think a 3 year relationship was washed down the drain. Over a stupid photo, a stupid man and insanely beautiful women. The one time you trusted your gut instinct and went through his phone to find millions of exchanged messages, explicit photos and numerous other women waiting to message him.

When you called over the bartender to pour you many shots, full strength — he questioned your motives before you mouthed the word 'ex' to which he understood, throwing a towel over his shoulder and grabbing a long-neck bottle of dark liquid.

But you didn't expect him to show up.

You felt it before you saw him. The shift in the air and obnoxious smelling cologne he wore which you hated but you never told him. You turned away from the bar and there he was, 'your ex' dressed in black chinos and a tight black button-up. His eyes locked onto yours as he staunched over, his posture ready to throw something.

"What do you think you're doing? Dressed like that?" He questioned.

"Dressed like what? A slut? Please.. This is more coverage than any of the women you messaged."

"Do you seriously think this is how you move on? Throw yourself at other men?"

"Men?" You scoffed, holding a hand to stop yourself from laughing. "I don't see anyone around me besides that bartender who I believe was helping me get wasted. As apposed to the women who would shamelessly throw themselves at your feet in dms? And if you seriously think you can stop me.. I'd like to see you try."

You voices clashed over the music. Passerby's assumed you were just having a drunken dispute but this wasn't a fight — no, this was just the sparks before the fire. It wasn't messy before he laid a hand on you, grabbing your wrist.

Not hard, but enough to keep you in place as he continued to berate you. Enough for someone to notice.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Carlos wasn't meant to be in that club that night either. He too was blowing steam as he sat with Pierre and Lando but had decided to get a drink from the bar. The balance in the car he had this weekend didn't feel right, landing him a position far away from points. He wasn't happy and right now, sitting in a club with two of his mates was all he wanted to do until he saw it.

He spotted the commotion just past the crowds of people walking past — the way the guy grabbed your arm — something inside him snapped. Before he even thought it over, he was already making his way over.

"Everything okay?" Carlos asked, his Spanish accent cool but firm.

Your ex turned. "This doesn't concern you, mate."

Carlos smiled — the dangerous kind.

"It does now."

And then he looked at you. Not your ex. You.

"You good?" He asked, softer now.

You nodded, barely. Eyes wide.

"Come with me." Carlos said, offering you a hand before your ex slapped his arm out of the way.

"Mate. I said it doesn't concern you." Your ex's voice was scarily rising.

Carlos rubbed the spot he hit before speaking again, this time more firm "Unless you want a problem, which you don't.. I suggest you let go of her arm. If you haven't noticed, a few people have taken a liking to your heated conversation." He nodded towards a group of people who sat within hearing range as one of them held onto a phone, suspiciously angled towards the pair. Again he offered his hand as your ex could only watch, his face turning redder than a tomato.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

This definitely wasn't your bed..

You stirred in your sleep as you woke up. Your things splayed across the floor and your clothes no where in sight as you peeked beneath the covers to find yourself naked. The spot next to you was ruffled, indicating someone else was sleeping in the same bed. You hold a hand to your head as a wave of headaches roll over.

You must have been heavily drunk..

The low hum of a coffee machine sounded nearby as your eyes adjusted to the sun shining in through the slightly opened shutters.

"Good morning." A voice called from the doorway as you turned around and was immediately hit with the sight of a greek god. "I made coffee." He wasn't wearing anything but a pair of boxers.

"What happened last night? Who are you?" You asked, covering your eyes.

"No need to cover your eyes, you saw plenty of me last night." This earned a face from you which made Carlos chuckle softly. "You don't remember that I rescued you from your ex?"

All of a sudden, it hit you like a truck. The club. Your ex. The same man currently standing in boxers coming to save you.

"Did we—?"

"Have sex?" Carlos finished. "Yes, we did."

"I can't fathom.. how or what happened after you took my hand."

"You were drunk." He said before ducking out of the room and returning with two mugs filled with coffee. "We both were. Alcohol influences decisions."

"Gosh.." You said as you took the mug from him, pulling the covers up further as you bought your knees to your stomach. He walked around as he sat on the bed next to you. "I didn't get your name.."

"Carlos. Carlos Sainz Jr."

"Why does the name seem so familiar?" You asked.

"A lot of people have the name Carlos."

"Do they?" You questioned turning your head towards him.

"Good looking people anyways."

You laughed, a decent one after the events of last night.

"I think I like the name." You say, absentmindely sipping the remainders of your coffee.

"I know." Carlos said. "You screamed it all of last night."

© hearteyes4logan

[pennpenn]

FremiMay Day 8- Fatui

I took some inspo from Collei's background for this one!

Fatui Experiment Fremi!

It was mainly so I could practice drawing a different pose that I wasn't used to. You guys get a bit of line work just for a treat.

This probably comes from an au where he is sent off to Dottore before Arlecchino became knave. He gets long hair because I said so.

More details about the experiment au below because it has mild spoilers to the Fontaine archon quest

Tomorrow's prompt is 'kitty'!

The experiments being conducted would be related on how to get Fontaine-born people to resist the primordial sea water.

Dottore's plans are to see how much a person can take and what puts them on the brink of dissolving. He also wants to study dissolving and why it happens. Yet, Dottore isn't actually aware of the Fontaine people being Oceanids.

Freminet happened to be the experiment where he found the perfect point of: becomes water but doesn't dissolve. He is completely unable to control his powers and mental state. Just like Manga Collei he just kinda... Gets possessed? He becomes more Oceanid than human, the voices of his Oceanid brothers and sisters scream to him. Freminet loses the ability to act on his own and has a period of time where he just rampages.

His body has a blue tint to it, but can retain some color. Such as his hair still being blonde.

His Oceanid can escape his body but it causes his body to melt into a puddle. The tail of the Oceanid cannot leave the puddle. When the Oceanid returns to the puddle it takes a bit for his humanoid body to return.

Freminet also likely has issues with sensations. He can't necessarily feel pain due to his body being water, but he also can't necessarily die by being stabbed. Because his body is water.

Talking about his body being water, let's talk about elemental reactions:

Having cryo be used on him is probably the closest he'll ever get to the sensation of death. His body and mind are frozen, it's as if his time has completely stopped.

He cannot feel the force of geo. If you were to crush him with a geo construct he would end up reforming in a few days. If you were to trap his body within a geo construct his mind would still work. He can't necessarily die without more primordial seawater turning him into a full Oceanid at this point, so he would just have to wait patiently until he is freed.

Freminet typically avoids dendro because it zaps his energy. It becomes harder for him to fight his Oceanid urges and he loses control easier. He does, however, move slower when dendro is being used on him.

Electro makes him jittery! He violently shakes when he is imbued with electro unless he is touching something to transfer the charge. If the electro pulse is too strong then he will become immobile.

Pyro is probably the closest Freminet will get to actually feeling 'hurt'. His body literally boils if it gets too hot. If he gets too much heat then his body will be unable to keep its form and he may melt. So if you are bringing him to the Sumeru desert make sure you bring a bucket! Otherwise you may have to shovel some wet sand in your bag and wait for him to reform later.(He luckily does not evaporate)

Anemo doesn't necessarily do anything special to Freminet. If he is hit with a strong burst of wind that would shred his body apart he typically reforms quite quickly. (When he is a puddle it takes a lot longer to reform than if he just has to rebuild some water to get a neck or arm again)

Hydro doesn't necessarily effect him. He kinda works like a hydro slime. But on the note of water, liquids that aren't room temperature may risk him experiencing discomfort.(Like if you were to try to microwave a mug of cold water, sometimes half of the water is warm and half of the water is cold. It's uncomfortable to drink. He gets that feeling when drinking things other than his current temperature)

Not me coming up with an entire universe and lore for a simple art prompt.

I could go more into a ramble on if he escapes then his own personal Amber(as she is Collei's hero) would be Chongyun. Cuz I think that would be cute.

Anyways kudos to you if you actually read everything. If you want me to make this into a full fledged au lemme know in my ask box or in the comments. If you wanna be goofy then if you read this far put 🪼 in the comments. I like jellyfish.

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: it’s a soft morning with bob, until he needs you.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bob reynolds x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.4K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni) , porn with little plot, cute shower antics/fluff at the beginning, yearning & needy bob, switch!bob, breast sucking, making out, hair pulling, bob’s praise kink, spit kink, unprotected p in v sex, missionary position, breeding kink, overstimulation, cockwarming, creampie. this fic is filthy.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: wrote this on a whim because I’ve been missing bob a lot (and I was freaked up ngl). not gonna apologize for how freaky this is. anyway. i hope you all enjoy! 🫶

Loving Bob is easy — it’s gentle, clean.

It’s the sort of love that murmurs from your heart, calling his name, a song that you continue to loop somewhere in the recesses of your mind.

There’s a safety you find within him, even through the darkness he keeps caged, a warmth that reminds you of a thousand splendid suns. A shared sanctuary; he finds it in you, too.

At the root of your relationship, it’s two hearts, craving to touch, craving one another, intertwined. It’s built upon an initial friendship that had spiraled into something more, something warm.

He’s attentive, compassionate, selfless — for his numerous qualities, you find yourself infinitely grateful for him, for how lucky you are to have a partner as good as he is. Bob has a wonderful heart, and despite his past, it’s still just as good.

You think about him often, especially when you first wake up, left smiling to yourself at the thought of how much you adored him. It left a lightness in your heart, one that you hadn’t experienced in years.

Within the gentle hours of morning, you feel the sparse indenture beside you, the bed left empty where he’d slept. It wasn’t common to find him absent, a twinge of concern sinking into your chest.

Swallowing the thickness present within your throat, you turned, listening to the gentle trickle of water from the shower. Relief followed soon after, inclined to follow the sound.

Dawn’s first sigh whispered through tinted window panes, slivers of an ember-orange pooling over the foot of your bed, passing over marble floors. It struck beside your head, causing you to tilt away from the glow.

It spread over the skies with tendrils of vibrancy, veiled through darkened glass. Twilight began to dissipate, with not an ounce of haste, dismal darkness giving way to violet, the celestials clinging to the horizon.

In a gentle clamor, you slither from your bed, still ensnared in a haze of half-sleep as you make for the bathroom. Nudging the door aside, you make your presence known with a stirring of your throat and a yawn.

“Morning, Bob,” Stretching, you can see him somewhat through the fogged pane of glass, and he perks up, even then. “Do you mind if I join you?” You ask, a lazy smile molding to your features as the shower door creaks open.

He’s there, soap still lathered into his crown, flushed and pink, musculature glistening as if he’s spent entirely too long marinating beneath the water. “Hi,” He greets, smiling when he sees you. “Oh, ah — Yeah, come inside.”

Bob’s brows furrow when he realizes how strange that sounded, countenance one of mild embarrassment. Nevertheless, he shuffles over to make room for you, throat thick as he swallows the sudden swell of excitement.

The nakedness is something you’re more accustomed to by now, having been together for several months. Though, whenever he sees you, it’s like the first time all over again — you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

Undressing, you’re shedding your clothes outside of the shower door, kicking the remnants of your underwear aside. Steam floats in tepid wisps, clinging to the mirror, coating the bathroom in a humid haze.

Once inside, streams of hot water splash over your skin, body brushing against his. It sends a muted buzz through your spine, running a hand over your face as you reach for your shampoo.

“How did you sleep?” He asks, tone saturated with an amiable warmth. Bob is often one to inquire about your wellbeing, and he’s attentive when he does, gaze trailing over your visage.

“Good,” With a soft hum, you feel his hands ghost over your spine, the gesture fleeting, enough to make you shiver. “What about you?”

It’s idle conversation, affectionate murmurs spoken through the haze of the shower. Bob stepped back beneath the spout, water cascading through soap-laden tresses.

“Fine,” Lashes kissed the skin beneath his eyes, washing the existing suds from his scalp. Spitting water aside, Bob cleared his throat. “Sorry for not waiting on you. You looked so pretty, I didn’t want to wake you.” He murmured, smitten.

Through a tender smile, you dismiss his apology, gazing up at him, mesmerized. He’s so handsome — pretty when he’s doing anything and everything. “It’s okay,” You mused, nose wrinkling. “I think I needed the rest.”

Relaxation was crucial for you in the downtime between missions, and you were appreciative that Bob had let you sleep for a little while longer.

His countenance softened, lingering on the curve of your mouth, over the bridge of your nose. He soaked you in as you splashed water over your body, droplets rolling over your chin.

Sluggishly, Bob dips down to plant a chaste kiss to your lips, reluctant to pull away; thankfully, you’re eager to tilt inward, reciprocating. It’s sweet, gentle — you often feel a sense of comfort, never uneasy whenever he kisses you.

Warm water sticks to your crown, tresses glued to your skull as you run a palm over his bicep, feeling goosebumps beneath your fingertips.

Bob only draws away when you’re reaching for the soap, hoping to clean up. He’s gentle, digits tracing along your spine, gooseflesh spreading like wildfire over your flesh.

Steam ripples over his musculature, wisping through the taut grooves of his abdomen, over broad, freckled shoulders. Content, he seems more relaxed than usual, drawing patterns into the small of your back.

“I can do it,” Bob offers, gentle yet pitched with a twinge of nervousness. “I’m happy to do it for you.” He perks up when you offer him the shampoo bottle with a smile, seemingly receptive to the idea.

“I’d like that,” Through an idle hum, you stand in front of him, partially shielded from the barrage of water, patient as ever. “Thank you.”

Fingers massage over your scalp with a disarming gentleness, handling you with a care that you’d grown intimately acquainted with. Eyes flutter shut as you relax beneath his touch, letting him lather soap into your crown.

Any initial distance becomes thin, swallowed by the closeness of bodies, his chest brushing against your back. A subtle hitch forms within your throat, a pang of excitement, but you keep yourself docile.

His embrace is kind; it makes you feel coveted, seen in a way that transcends everything else. Bob is focused on the task at-hand, dark-blue hues fluttering across your physique, drinking in every detail, committing it all to memory.

Digits rake over the base of your skull, working in the shampoo with ease, satisfied with his handiwork. “Here,” He awkwardly shuffles aside, and you jolt when you feel his cock brush your backside. “I’ll let you finish.”

Admittedly, the brief embrace sends electricity through your veins, scorched by want, but you’re unwilling to ruin the moment.

Rinsing the shampoo from your hair, soapy remnants and all, Bob quietly appraises you from where he stands, jaw slack, his visage blotched with a bright shade of rose. Water rolls over your chest, down your navel, lower.

Some sliver of him gnaws with desire, but he’s never been good with asking. Instead, he resorts to ogling you as if you’re the sun itself, warm and glittering.

His lungs fill with sweetness whenever he’s near you, tender gaze following every dip, every curve of your body, as if you’re a river worth wading through. He’s clean, content to watch, only looking away when your eyes flutter open.

Scrubbing the last of the product from your tresses, you give yourself one final rinse, body washed clean, prepared to start your day. “Finished?” You asked, hand hovering over the switch.

“Yeah.” Bob speaks as if he’s clawing for air, chest burning from the sight of you, tongue absentmindedly wetting his bottom lip.

As the shower fizzles to a crawl, he steps out, steam clinging to him. You follow suit, towel dragging over your warm flesh, collecting any bit of water left behind.

In a similar fashion, you’re watching him, tendrils of warmth snaking over the back of your neck, damp tresses disheveled around you. He’s beautiful, handsome in a way that makes your knees wobble, heartbeat pounding away.

“You okay?” The innocuous nature of your question leaves Bob flustered, even still. With a towel slung low around his hips, there’s little left to the imagination — and your thoughts are rampant.

He nods, lashes flitting, lips pulled agape as he marvels at you, the difference in height more apparent now, in the rawness of things. “You’re so beautiful,” Bob utters, awestruck. “It’s mesmerizing.”

The sincerity of his compliment makes you preen, a smile creeping onto your features. He’s called you beautiful a thousand times — this one carries weight, as if he’s reminding himself that you’re real, that what you have together is real.

“Mesmerizing?” Echoing his statement, you do little to suppress the sheepish smile that curls at the corners of your mouth. “I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.” You muse, reluctant to accept the compliment.

Bob stares, visage tinged with scarlet, throat thick; he swallows and steels himself, hand reaching to cup your jaw. “You should hear it more often.” He concedes, tone disarmingly low, enough to make you shiver.

Whenever he wants something, he gets this way; a little flirtatious, still attempting to formulate his own wants into words. Sometimes he feels undeserving, but you know that isn’t true, and so does he.

Something charged splinters the air, desire thinly-veiled, want echoing in his eyes, screaming. Emboldened, he initiates this time, dipping dangerously close, eyes flickering over your mouth.

As his large palm cradles the delicate slope of your face, you’re drifting closer, body bundled in a towel, standing flush against him. A slight hitch forms within the bottom of his throat, and it’s his turn to become bashful.

“You think so?” You hum, tone warping into something sweet, desirous. Bob gawks, shuddering when your hands splay flat over his ribs, tracing circles into his abdomen.

With a lackadaisical nod, he’s getting flustered, soothed by the caresses lavished to his skin. You’re still smiling, nails ghosting over his flesh, goosebumps erupting in the wake of it.

The distance is closed by the both of you, dipping halfway, meeting in the middle. Mouths connect in a sudden flurry of passion, and you can taste the desperation on his tongue, even then.

He is a chiseled adonis, and you can’t help but marvel at him as if he’s molded from marble, made flesh and blood beneath your hands.

Bob kisses you as if he’s racing against time, digits flexing over the nape of your neck. A sharp exhale stings his lungs, pushing through his nose as you press closer; the towel tempts him, able to be ripped apart with ease.

The crass knot of fantasies that jump around within his brain makes him blush, neediness unfurling from deep within his stomach, his bones.

All it took was one glimpse of you, kissed by dawn, visibly enamored with him — and he collapsed.

Lips carry on, eager; you’re kissing him with an overwhelming sweetness, fingertips tracing upwards until they’re hooked beneath his arms. He shivers, holding steadfastly to your jaw, thumbs circling your cheeks.

Stirring against your navel, his cock strains beneath the fabric of his towel, prompting you to gasp whilst kissing him. It snares between lips, and he immediately slows to a crawl, doing little to mask his embarrassment.

“Sorry, m’sorry.” Bob mumbles, flesh hot with embarrassment as it ripples through him in waves. Neediness follows suit, a gnawing desire to hold you, root himself inside of you.

Burying his face within the crook of your shoulder, his breath emerges in warm, winded sighs, hips ghosting over yours. The friction simmers within your blood, a jolt of electricity that sets your nerves ablaze.

“It’s okay,” Soothingly, your nails lightly grace the muscle of his abdomen, stroking in circular motions as you keen into his embrace. He cages you in, nose tickling your throat, lips sealing to your jugular. “Bob.”

His name is sharp as it spills from your mouth, pitched with a twinge of exhilaration. Hushed, he lavishes kisses over your neck, open-mouthed and wet, groin grinding haplessly into your own.

Even the towel does little to veil his obvious erection, and you can taste the urgency as his hands mold themselves to your hips.

Pathetically, he ruts into you, grinding bodies tangled into an amalgamation of limbs, and he’s still huffing, noises tapering off into a whimper. “Need you,” He pants wantonly. “Please — I want to be inside of you.”

Hunger reveals itself viscerally, and Bob falls victim to his own baser instincts, stomach pulled taut into a coil of excitable heat.

He’s always been one to yearn silently, wanting you in hushed gaps and longing glances, but this time, his desire is screaming. Bob isn’t particularly good at being blunt about what he wants, but this time, he takes action.

Arousal pools between your thighs at his confession, sending tingles of bliss throughout your body. Fingers hook into your towel as you peel it away, a shiver gripping your spine when you press closer.

Pupils dilate, expanding with black as he traces the shape of your physique, breath hitching within his throat. “So pretty.” He sighs, reverent as he feels your hand close around his wrist.

Guiding his hand to the warmth coalescing along your cunt fills his brain with static, a violent hum that only rouses his desire further. Two fingers find the heat present over your cunt, swiping over weeping folds.

“That’s what you do to me,” The whisper that leaves your tongue is enough to offset his balance, heady — your stomach gnaws with heat. “That’s all for you.” Tempting him further, he pushes a sharp exhale through his nose.

“For me,” Bob repeats, tone tapering off into a pitiful half-whine. There’s a sense of guilt he feels, undeserving of you, but when your hips push into his fingers, it proves a worthwhile distraction. “God, you’re so — so beautiful, you’re mine.”

The sudden claim of possessiveness stuns you, but it isn’t unwelcome; you like it, and you want him to take what’s his. “I’m yours?” It’s posed as a curious inquiry, one that Bob perks up at.

“Mm-hm,” His mouth skirts over your jugular, planting kisses there as his digits idly rut over your cunt. Crass noises reverberate through your steam-laden bathroom as he fingers you. “You’re mine.”

There’s an inherent sweetness to his cadence even when he’s attempting to be assertive, and it makes your stomach erupt with butterflies.

Clinging to him, your thighs twitch when he picks you up, gait one of exhilaration as your legs kiss the foot of your mattress. He lays you down, towel still bound around his hips, riding dangerously low.

Veins course from his navel toward his groin, accompanied by a still-damp abdomen, water glistening over raw muscle. Golden tendrils of morning curl around his body, and he’s beautiful.

He’s more god than man, but he’s yours — and that means everything.

Cerulean hues sparkle with excitement, jaw slackening, hands coiling together when you begin to move toward the pillows.

He’s enraptured, the image of a man enthralled, preparing to crawl to you if that’s what it takes. A pink tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, gaze never wavering from you.

“I need you, Bob.” Through the hush of labored sighs and crackling tension, you tell him softly, accompanied by a look of affection. Bob’s throat jostles as he swallows, tilting forward to join you on the bed.

Damp, brunette ringlets frame his face, mouth agape, irises eclipsed by black as he surges forward, slotting himself between your legs.

As his musculature parts your thighs, he abandons the towel, hovering above you. Mouths clamor for one another, messy and desperate, a clash of wet tongues and lips.

Bob openly moans into your kiss, rutting into your leg as if he’s in heat, flushed cock gliding over the silky flesh of your inner thigh. A gasp snares within your chest, hands gripping his biceps, tugging him close.

Pearls of precum ooze over your skin, slick across your thigh as you kiss him hard. It’s open-mouthed, wanton as bodies tangle together, nails digging light crescents into corded muscle.

A scarlet flush blankets his features, as if he’s been burning beneath the sun for too long. Bob can feel the coil settle within his belly, a tangle of heat that’s pulled tight, something visceral and real.

Beneath him, you’re stunning, heartbeat one of erratic excitement, a lullaby that he can hear. Kisses continue to devolve into a mess of want, sloppy and wet as your back arches from the mattress.

The brush of your nipples ghost over his chest, a shiver simultaneously gripping the both of you. It gives him pause, gaze trailing to your breasts as his lips untether from yours, kissing a scorching trail toward your chest.

Hips urge forward, cock incessantly grinding against your thigh, followed by a string of breathy whines that catch in the open.

“So handsome like this, baby,” Your tender praise makes him groan, keening beneath sweetly-spoken compliments. One hand rakes toward the nape of his neck, fingers scraping over brunette waves. “So perfect, feels s’good.”

Lips passionately brand themselves to your throat, collarbone, sternum — Bob leaves no inch of your chest untouched. He worships your body, loving you so viscerally, so deeply.

He kisses his way to your right breast, breathing in your saccharine scent, senses swimming in you. He’s drowning, but it’s something he welcomes, mouth slipping over your nipple.

Taking the pebbled peak between his lips, Bob lavishes your breasts in attention, gingerly kneading at the other, keeping his mouth busy. He’s whining, flushed cockhead drizzling with precum.

It’s akin to torture, waiting to be inside of you — but he does it anyway, tending to you before anything else. He softly sucks at the sensitive bud, drawing preening moans from your mouth, and he shivers.

Trembling fingers quiver with excitement as you push them through his hair, still slick with water, fisting into damp waves. “Bob,” You moan, back beginning to arch, following his mouth. “S’perfect.”

A muted buzz shoots through his cock as his hips jerk forward, hot air pushed out through his nose as he teases your breasts. He’s passionate, never resorting to anything harsh, and he’s needy.

Through a half-lidded stare, his eyes find your face, contorted into one of bliss, lips parted, jaw slackening. Bob moans around your breast, cock throbbing incessantly.

“Mm, you’re so pretty,” He groans, the sound throaty, husked as it curls deliciously around your ears. His lips are eager, never ceasing as he kisses a wet trail between your breasts. “Please, I want to be inside of you.”

He’s talkative, attempting to vocalize what he wants without reproach. Each keening whine and desperate plea sends shockwaves of bliss through your belly, arousal hot and slick over your cunt.

With a jostle of your head, you’re nodding, welcoming him closer as he continues to kiss his way back to your mouth. As lips collide, you’re absently rocking into him, feeling his body tense.

“Please,” It’s all that needs to be said, and he’s crawling, thoroughly and utterly razed as he presses close. “Need you so bad.” Your cadence is disarmingly tender, something that scratches at his brain.

The flushed head of his cock slips over your cunt a time or two, gathering the slick that’s permeating there, pulling a groan from his chest. He steadies himself on one hand, the other caressing your ribs.

Even when he’s snugly on top of you, he’s entirely subservient, a wanton mess, needing you more than anything else.

A shiver grips his spine when his hips fall flush against yours, cockhead splitting past your folds, still oozing with precum. He grinds himself into you a time or two, letting that friction tug at the coil in his stomach.

Bob’s visage contorts into a look of sheer want, the face of someone who’s desperate to be needed, wanted — and you do, more than anything else.

Shifting closer, you suck in a sharp inhale as his hips urge forward, cock sinking into you. It’s a brief adjustment, cunt clenching around him with ripples of bliss.

Hands fall toward the nape of his neck, threading through still-damp, brunette tresses, giving them gentle tugs. Coaxing him closer, Bob groans at the sudden influx of pleasure, pace somewhat erratic, to start.

He likes it messy, sloppy — it’s all an amalgamation of limbs, bodies clawing for one another as if you may never touch again. Mouths meet in a snare of tongue and ardor, spit slick over swollen lips.

Bridging the gap, you let your tongue slip through his parted lips, tangling with his own in another bruising kiss. A low moan catches in Bob’s throat, swallowed by another barrage of kisses.

As he draws his hips back and pushes forward, the rhythm he sets is needy, quick; a glistening string of saliva connects his mouth to yours.

The wet tendril falls over your chin, a sheen of intermingled spit that Bob greedily kisses over, pulling a moan from your throat. Crass noises emanate from between bodies, your cunt taking him perfectly.

One hand shifts to grab your leg, smoothly hitching against the back of your knee, caressing the skin there as he pushes it toward your abdomen. It isn’t uncomfortable, the new angle allowing him to fuck you deeper.

A tremulous moan splits your diaphragm, shuddering as your cunt pulses, clenching around his cock. He fills you up, leaving no room for space, heat exuding from him like an open flame.

He’s strong, capable — there’s something steady beneath the erratic slam of his hips as he pushes his cock further, bottoming out. Ringlets of brown brush over your brow, foreheads coming to press together.

“I love you,” Bob groans through another snap of his hips, and you’re dizzy from the pleasure, body tangled into a knot of bliss. It sits heavy in your belly, wanton and waiting. “Love you so much.”

The bulk of his musculature blankets you, larger, each urge of his body bristling with an enthusiastic passion. You take it all gleefully — every kiss of his cock to your cervix, every breath that feathers over your mouth.

As he lavishes you in half-whimpered confessions, you hold tightly to him, his cock lewdly slapping away at your pussy. His eyes are closed, mouth slack, making room for throaty, husked groans that cause you to shiver.

“Doing so well for me, Bob,” You croon between thrusts, the wind ripping from your lungs, exhilaration stinging your nerves. “Love you.” It’s all you’re able to force out before he’s kissing you again.

Bob shivers at the feeling of your cunt, tight and warm around him, clenching around his cock with each roll of his hips. You took him perfectly, as if you were made for him, molded together.

Kissing you hoarse, it’s all passion — bleeding heat that coagulates in the pit of your stomach, coil wanting to unfurl. Arousal slicks your cunt, noises crude as he fucks into you, eager.

He isn’t rough, but he’s fast, cock pounding away at your aching core as if time is nonexistent. You never sway him from it, hitching your other leg up around his hips, knee pressing to his ribs.

Despite his position, caged in around you, contorting you in ways that allow him better access to you, he’s subservient, still. His lips untether, face coming to nuzzle beneath your chin.

“So tight, all mine.” Something shadowed eclipses his voice, something possessive; it makes you shiver with delight. He finds his footing, and that husked purr makes your head spin.

A myriad of throaty groans, whines, and hot sighs plume over your neck, allowing you to fist at his brunette crown. “Bob, Bob,” You moan, leg constricting his hips as he fucks you deep. “Please don’t stop.”

Bob shudders at the praise, cock lewdly clashing against your slick cunt, wound up into tight knots that seem on the precipice of bursting.

“I — God, m’close,” He huffs into your collar, knowing that he can’t hold himself back for much longer. His voice is stretched thin, frayed — it’s ragged with desire, splintering at the seams as he pushes into you again. “Please!”

His cock pulses inside of you, stretching you out, every ripple of your cunt sending him into a borderline frenzy. Every sensation is electrifying, addictive — he’s lost within you.

He’s had flings before, something to fill the gaping hole within him, something distracting just to feel; with you, it’s everything. Bob can feel how much you love him through touch alone, how much he needs you.

He kisses the drool shining against your chin, tongue warm as he laps it up, prompting you to kiss him again, bruising. Moans snare in the mouths of another, and he’s hammering away at your pussy.

Through excitable half-babbles, Bob groans about how good you feel, how pretty you are, how you make him feel alive.

Wisps of brown stick his temples from mere exertion and anticipation, lips ghosting over one another as he presses his head to yours.

Each urge of his hips sends him deeper, cock nearly kissing your cervix. His mouth is wet with his own spit, pooling within his maw as he continues to piston into you with a raw excitement.

“Y—You’re drooling, Bob.” You whisper, sweet breath pluming over his lips. He gets somewhat bashful when you point it out, but he can’t help himself, features scarlet.

“You feel so — so good,” Bob huffs, overwhelmed with ecstasy; everything feels hot, as if he might explode into a thousand pieces. “Yeah.” He chokes, still bitten by the sting of embarrassment.

The incessant pulse of his cock warms your cunt, filling you up, his ministrations beginning to slow in intensity. “I want you to share.” You whisper, broken and hoarse, strung-out with desire.

There’s something intimately razed about your cadence, the wanton ardor that seeps through the cracks, and Bob moans your name. He knows what you’re asking, and he’s wrecked.

With a fervent nod, he’s visibly charmed as you open your mouth, tongue warm and pink. Bob’s hips stutter, jagged and strained.

Saliva gathers in his mouth as he spits into yours, watching it fall like sticky tendrils onto your tongue. His body shudders from the sight, eyes impossibly wide, eclipsed by desire.

A twinge of possessiveness swells within him, tying you to him, binding both of you together. He watches as if his gaze might burn through you, thoroughly mesmerized.

Open-mouthed and half-lidded, you swallow his spit, feeling his hips draw back and push forward again.

“S’good,” Through a soft purr, you lavish your boyfriend in sweet praise, carding your fingers through his hair. “Keep going.” You croon, planting a wet kiss against his jaw.

Bob nods, shaky and exhilarated, pushing his cock back into you with a sudden haste. He starts again, hammering into you like a man starved, face flush against the side of your neck.

He’s blanketed in a delicate shade of crimson, lips parted, pressing open-mouthed kisses over your throat. Each urge of his hips sends you soaring, cock lewdly slapping into your pussy.

“Tight, you’re — Mm, you’re perfect,” Bob pants, his release hot and fervent as it trails after him, preparing to crash into some exploding star. The coil in his belly unfurls; messy and wanton. “Close.”

“Bob!” A throaty moan rips through your throat, cunt tight and pulsing around him, causing the both of you to shiver. He’s needy, clawing — something ravenous consumes him.

He doesn’t deserve to breathe your air, and yet he’s inhaling your scent, the sweetness of your flesh, the perspiration that licks over your jugular.

“Need to — I need to …” Bob pants, knowing that he’s being torn apart, splintered into slivers. His cock throbs incessantly, and he’s crescendoing with a plethora of grunts and whines.

“Stay,” You weren’t asking — you were telling. A husked, simpering groan echoes through his diaphragm, hips erratic, hand clenched into the sheets beside you. “Stay, Bob. Cum in me.”

Something snaps — that coil he fights against comes undone in one devastating wave. He gasps, nerves ablaze, body teeming with a buzz of ecstasy that pulses through him.

There’s something else, something dark; for a moment, he envisions you, full of his seed, something he’s never dreamed of.

That fantasy spreads like a festering plague, saturating the corners of his mind, feeding into something lustful. Bob’s release is messy, excessive — his hips surge again, fucking you full of his cum.

He paints your cunt with hot ropes of his spent, spasming, tense; his lips lavish your jaw in a myriad of sloppy kisses.

It oozes out of you, smattered over the insides of your thighs, his cock, your cunt. Your name burns his tongue as he says it again and again, desperate.

“Jesus,” Bob huffs, brows pinched together, countenance warped into a look of sheer bliss. He looks content, as if his release brought him some semblance of comfort. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” A sigh of elation escapes you, digits sweeping through his tresses, planting a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “That was amazing, Bob.” You hum, mouth twitching into a smile.

“I’m not finished,” With a peculiar grit sinking into his voice, you bend to him, breathing hitching within your throat. He’s half-hard again inside of you, jaw slack, eyes wide. “Please — please, just let me.”

His hand drags over your leg, caressing and squeezing, hooking around the back of your knee. The other digs into the pillow beside your head, fisting until the fabric begins to tear.

With a lackadaisical nod, you’re delighted to let him continue, heat pooling within your belly, oozing between your thighs. “B—Bob,” You whine, grasping at his shoulders. “Bob!”

A wet, glistening sheen of white sticks to his groin, your arousal intermingling with his cum as he pushes into you again. A moan escapes you, body tingling with waves of pleasure.

Bob looks as if he’s soaring, at the pinnacle of ecstasy, thrusts beginning to mount in pace. As bodies collide again and again, the lewd clash of flesh reverberates, wet and filthy.

He’s beautiful like this — beautiful when he’s unraveling, coming apart above him.

Readjusting your position, Bob places your legs up against his broad shoulders, bending you, but not breaking you. He doesn’t manhandle; he moves, touch tender and rapturous.

The newfound angle sends you into some white-hot snare of pleasure, back arching, head rolling back against the pillows. He fucks you deep, cock pistoning away at your pussy, groaning with each thrust.

It was almost overwhelming, fraying your nerves, making you delirious as he hammered into you, mumbling a string of apologies and half-sentences.

“B—Bob, it’s too much,” Your cunt clenched around his cock again, rippling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Everything feels too sensitive, as if you might wither away. “Slow, slow.”

Bob moans, fucking another rope of cum into you before stopping, meeting your gaze with a heated one of his own. He slows, knowing your stamina is only a fraction of his.

He nods, swallowing the lump within his throat before he comes to a crawl, gently setting your legs back down onto the bed.

He stays inside of you even still, coming to lay his head against your collarbone. “I love you.” He murmurs, content and no longer wound-up, a lazy smile glued to his features.

For a moment, you’re too blissed-out to say anything, chest heaving with labored sighs. “I love you too,” You hum, shivering as his mouth idly travels over your chest. “You’re so perfect.”

The bulk of his musculature covers your body, bleeding with heat, eyelashes fluttering as you caress the base of his skull. “Wanna stay here, like this,” He exhales. “Is that okay?”

“Mm-hm,” His cock twitches inside of you when you give your consent, and he’s elated. “Stay here with me.” You exhale, the noise finally beginning to climb down from your peak.

Bob feels your chin tuck over the top of his head, and while the gesture is sweet, he’s grasping at your waist with an obvious possession.

“I think we should get back in the shower.” You suggest, a soft chuckle escaping you. Bob seems a touch flustered, peering at you with a placating smile.

“Yeah,” He agrees, leaning in to press a kiss against your lips. “After you.”

[dark-raven-666]

Mr chopped x reader + sfw & nsfw headcanons.

He survives and has a body.

A/N: this is my first time writing nsfw so please bare with me. It's SFW until marked.!!

♡´･ᴗ･`♡♡´･ᴗ･`♡♡´･ᴗ･`♡♡´･ᴗ･`♡♡´･ᴗ･`♡♡´･ᴗ･`♡

@vixxine

Art belongs to: reddeong_ on X/ Twitter

As soon as your eyes met his,he whispered to you. "I only wanted you to be happy".

Running to his side you hold him in your arms and help him stand up. Mr. Silvair who was next to you, helped the two of you to a room where he was put it rest.

Mr. Silvair injects him with a small dosage of some kind of medicine that makes him calm down.

Hours pass and his eyes remain closed. You sitting in a chair by his bed. Your head on the bed and hand holding his.

By the time he woke up, you had fallen asleep. He looks around the room only for his eyes to settle on you.

With a quiet sigh, he holds your hand tighter, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

At his touch your eyes flutter open, molting up your arms wrap around him as you sob. " my love... Oh my dear... I thought I had lost you for good.. " you cry out quietly... His gaze softens and he wraps his arms around you. He felt so warm... His skin.. His body was cold... But the warmth came from within... It's like you could feel his love.

His hand caresses your cheek with a look that says he has yearned to do that for eternity. You mean into his palm and hold it with your hands.

As your eyes meet his once more, you can almost feel his anguish... The pain he had endured..

How he had yearned to touch you, to wrap his arms around you, to be worthy of you.

His eyes closing turn to the ceiling and tears stream down... His hand now shaking he let's out one sob and buries himself in your chest in a speed you had never seen him move in.

HCS.

SFW

Loves to have you in his arms.

Feels insecure at times but you're always quick to bury those away with your touch, kisses and loving words.

Full body cuddles are a must. Now that he can wrap up around you like a koala he won't stop doing it.

Allows you to brush his hair and braid it, but NOT cut it.

Now that he can stand up he wants to go everywhere, visit every part of the world, feel, touch everything.

Now that he has this precious body he will not waste it.

Has gotten into your skin care and will continue to.

He got a bruise? It's the end of the world!

Yes he's still his dramatic self.

NSFW 🤫

Very sensitive, what is this odd feeling?

I'm not even going to lie and feed your delusions, barely lasts 2-3 minutes the first like 20 times. It's all just so new.

You know how I said he wants to adventure? Yes with this too. He wants to feel his body and your body.

Sees a bit of side boob and is immediately hard and stroking himself.

Loves the feeling of his fist but boyyy does he love your mouth more.

Will not hesitate to get on his knees and whine for your mouth on him.

[akaaiholic]

Little Gift

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Fem!Reader | Drabble-Ish?

Ushijima, your husband who was now a father of two, gave out his left index finger out with a smile in hopes of his second two-month old to reach out and hold his father’s finger with his entire hand.

To his surprise, the baby grabs it on with his left hand, fingers wrapped around with a slight grip. Ushijima’s eyes widened, surely it was coincidence that his finger was grabbed by his son’s left hand. His heart softened, cooing quietly at his son with a smile,

“Will you have my gift too one day?”

As your eldest daughter was teaching your three year old son how to hold a crayon since he’s been interested in his older sister’s hobby, she became confused as to why her brother’s dominant hand wasn’t his right hand.

Her eyebrows furrows as she tries to introduce a purple crayon to him after convincing him to switch colors with her by laying it in front of him after both his hands were empty. He picks it up once more with his left hand, dragging the stick swiftly across the paper.

As papers continue to scatter across the table full of color, the door unlocks and Ushijima comes home, both of them racing to greet him.

“Hello, my princess and prince. What have you been up to today? Where’s your mother?”

“Mama.. nap time…”

Ushijima chuckled a little, oh how your sweet husband is excited to wake you up with a kiss again after your long day.

His daughter guides his hand to the table, covered with all the artwork they’ve made within the past two hours. Ushijima skims through the scribbles and stick portraits made by the two kids,

“My little artists have been busy today, hm? Let me take a look after i’ve cleaned up..”

Your daughter jumps into his train of thought,

“And! He holds the crayons with his left hand, not his right like I do!”

Ushijima beamed with a smile, kissing his son’s crown.

“He’s just like your dada, he has a little gift.”

akaai’s notes: happy father’s day to Ushijima Wakatoshi!! and all the dads out there too ig… i wrote this instead of going to bed too (it’s 3 am..) hhhhh goodnight world !! twt @/akaaiholic

[factual-fantasy]

I've been thinking about adding Skywarp and Thundercracker to my AU for a while now. :0 I'm thinking the two of them and Screamer will be a set of triplets. Not clones or drones or whatever else they may be in other continuities. Any other "seekers" or "flight frames"...? Will not look identical to the trio.

(These are a little batch of test redesigns. I have a looot more passes to do before I'm satisfied! <XDD)

And then Jetfire... I've thought about adding him which is why I've drawn this scene for fun, buuuuuutt ultimately I don't think Jetfire has a place in my AU. It leaves too many plot holes and angst in its wake.

(A ramble on why Jetfire wont work is below! <XD)

The first reason why I don't think Jetfire (aka Skyfire) can exist in my AU, is because of this paragraph from his wiki:

"Millions of years ago on Cybertron, before the war, Skyfire and Starscream were good friends and fellow scientists. On a mission of exploration to prehistoric Earth, Skyfire was lost in a storm. Starscream searched, but there was no sign of his comrade. He returned home."

Now, Optimus does say that Earth and Cybertron have been intertwined for what seems like forever. But -unless there's something I don't know/remember- no living cybertronian ever set foot/made any contact with Earth in any way until AFTER the war began. So how and why did Starscream and Jetfire go to Earth before the war? It conflicts with canon.

The second reason is a simple one really. While it may have worked in G1, I cannot find a logical explanation as to HOW Jetfire was still alive and could be reactivated after crashing into the Arctic. It not like he was put into stasis on purpose and kept in a special pod in the warm desert, like Skyquake. He CRASHED into the ARCTIC. So not only was he wounded but there was literally a WHOLE EPISODE in Prime about how the cold has devastating effects on the cybertronian body. Within HOURS of being there, Optimus Prime and Arcee were literally about to die. There is just no way Jetfire logically survives in this continuity..

And lastly, there's where the story would go afterwards. And I don't like what I see. :(

You see, if I bring Jetfire into my AU, I want him to stay friends with Starscream and stay with him. But making that happen requires me to break at least something from canon.

Option 1: Jetfire stays with the Decepticons and supports their cause. Which wont work because his whole story arc is being an ex-con who doesn't agree with what their doing-

Option 2: Starscream has a redemption arc and joins the Autobots with Jetfire. This is a problem because I would want Thundercracker and Skywarp to go with them. And tbh I don't think any of the screamers can be redeemed. They're cons to their core. To make them switch sides would feel too forced. Plus I like the 3 idiots being cons and getting on Megs nerves XD

Option 3: The timeline is the same as G1. Jetfire splits from the cons and joins the Autobots, leaving the triplets behind. This is obviously sad and I don't want that. 🫸

So with that all laid out, I have Jetfire in the bleachers for now. If I can find a way to solve all 3 of these problems then I'll add him to my AU in a heart beat. And everyone is welcome to correct me on any of these if I got the facts wrong or if you have any ideas on how to bring him into my AU! :0 I want to add him I just don't see a satisfying way to do it yet.

Thank you for reading! :)))

[hima-matta04]

~~~~Their thoughts on quickies~~~~

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, jealousy, public sex, forcefulness (but not r@pe), slight cock warming, spit as lube, choking, glory hole, slight oral, cum eating, praise, masturbation, (huge trigger warning on scarletella’s bc of manipulation and murder)

Characters included: Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped (with body 😀), Mr. Stitch, Mr. Gap, Mr. Scarletella, and Mr. Machete.

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Mr. Crawling

He always likes to be very caring and sensual with you when the both of you ‘get down to business’. However, the day that he almost lost you to Mr. Stitch, he couldnt help but want to be as close as possible to you. 

He had his cock tucked deep within your walls, moaning softly as he streched you around him. The entire time he muttered and wispered sweet things in your ear like “love you” and “not losing you ever”. That night he wished to get you pregnant…

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Mr. Stitch

Oh he loves to have fun with you. Your body, that is. If hes in the mood for it he’ll take you right where you stand. Even if youre out in the open, he doesnt care. He’s nice enough to at least spit on his fingers to make you wet.

He’ll shove his entire length into you all at once. He doesnt even need time to adjust, and apparently he doesnt think you do either. He pounds you at whatever pace or speed he wants. As he chases his high, he’ll wrap a calloused hand around your throat, chuckling when you struggle to breath as he cum hard inside of you.

Mr. Stitch will then leave, not caring to even try to make you cum. Not even an ounce of aftercare from him other than a pat on the head. He’ll leave you there alone, dripping with his seed.

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Mr. Gap

He’s a huge tease. One day he’s pestering about giving him a peice of you, but when you ask what he wants he simply replies “your body”, without warning, he’ll pull you into the hole in the wall where he is. He wastes no time climbing on top of you, kissing down your neck as his hands hastily grap at your breasts and hips.

When he finds your panties they end up soaked on the ground as he passionately fucks you while rubbing your clit and praising your body and how good you feel. Other times, you find him grabbing onto your thighs and pulling you to the gaps. His crusty hands hold your thighs tightly in place as he fucks you from inside the wall while you have to force yourself to look normal as people walk by. Lets just say his little act of neediness didnt go unpunished later that day.

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Mr. Silvair

Mr silver only likes quickies when the two of you are completely alone. He sees it as a quick brain break from whatever hes focused on and sometimes he likes to sink himself into you after hours of studying. He especially likes it when you walk in his office unannounced and perch yourself on his desk in front of him. He’ll stop whatever he’s doing just to passionately fill you up with cock.

As he pumps inside of you he likes to caress your sides and your shoulders and tell you how much he needed this. Once you finally cum on his throbbing cock, he’ll speed up to his own pace to finish himself off before releasing in your mouth for you to swallow. Once he makes sure that you’re unhurt and satisfied, he’ll gently lay you on the closest bed and kiss your forehead before continuing his work. 

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Mr Chopped with body

I cant help but feel like when he first gets hus body, he gets hard from the slightest things. The look in your eyes when you smile at him? He’s excusing himself to relieve himself. The time your hand brushed against his? His tip was already leaking with pre cum. Of course this because extremely noticeable over maybe a week of his self pleasuring habits, so thats when you told him you’d be glad to help him.

Now, everytime you provoked him in any way, all he had to do was tug at your sleeve a little and give you puppy dog eyes, and you’d let him take you to any empty room and needily rut into you. His first time was just the cutest! He was a wimpering, moaning mess as you did as little as jerk him off. Now every time his the slightest but horny, he’s pulling you to the closest corner, not matter if theres people around, and he fucks you hard and fast… its a little painful but he never lasts long.

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Mr. Scarletella

The second he sees you speaking to anyone but him, you’re shoved into a space as small as a closet for all he cares. You can cry and beg him with “its too much”, but Mr. Scarletella isn’t going to stop until the only name you can remember is his. He usually liked to just think about you in various positions, completely broken on his cock. The murderous grin that stretched across his face when he finally had the opportunity and reason to break you confirmed it.

He’ll make you ride him first until your legs are limp and completely useless. Then, he’ll grasp you by the waist, stand up, and use you like you’re nothing but a fuck toy. All of this while he degrades and manipulates you. Depending on who you’re talking to, he might kill them right in front of you and force you to look at the dead body while he fucks you, licking the tear rolling down your cheek. Of course Mr. Scarletella will reel you back into his heart by showing you affectionate aftercare and many soft kisses.

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Mr. Machete

Normally thats the only way he fucks you. Fast, random, and with no foreplay in sight. He does it without warning too. Like suddenly picking you up, no matter who you’re talking to, and gently carrying you to an empty room where he practically rips your clothes off (if you dont protest) and smiles stupidly.

The thing about Mr. Machete is that if he fucks you, you need to be completely naked for him. And he loves it when you ride him! He gently traces the bump from his cock on your tummy while bucking his hips up into yours. Surprisingly, he doesnt fuck you as rough as he possibly can unless you tease, or provoke him in any way. He makes sure to take things at your pace, especially since hes not about to eat you out or finger you. Its the least he can do.

[bluessmutifyplaylist]

Riding Sebek, Jamil, Vil, Leona, Idia and Azul while praising them nonstop because our baby boys need more self-love <3

Tee-hee… I love praise. Reader is freaky in this one.

Warnings: No pronouns used (no genitals aside from a ‘hole’ mentioned), Whimpering, Praise Kink, Body-Checking and Eating Disorder Recovery (Azul), Creampie (Leona,Jamil, Sebek), Overstimulation, Safeword Usage (Sebek)

Leona Kingscholar

“Herbivore… Goddamn, slow down!” The bed of the housewarden was creaking as you kept grinding your hips on his length. The room smelled of raw, sweaty sex.

On the bed, Leona was struggling for his life. Your body was absolute Heaven to him… a drug that he was addicted to. However, he was very overstimulated, since you already made him come about two times already. “No, Leona… I… I wan’ you to re… relax…” Another moan escapes your lips as you continue to basically impale yourself on his thick, juicy cock. “You’re… You’re always s’ good to… to me…” You didn’t even want him to fuck up into you, which was near torture to him. “I’m… fuck… I’m relaxed, Herbivore…!” A growl forces itself out of Leona’s throat, and you soon feel another load shooting into you.

Finally, the torture is done, and you slump over as his flaccid dick slips out of you, and he pants to catch his breath. You could feel his cum dripping out of your sore hole… and it was the most rewarding sensation. “Are you… relaxed?” You ask, looking up into his eyes, and the question makes him smile and shake his head at your antics. “Yes… Yes, I am. Good job, Herbivore.”

Azul Ashengrotto

“Please… Please… Don’t stop…” Another whimper escapes Azul’s lips as tears of pleasure gather in his eyes.

You had been at this for about an hour and a half, and you had no plans of stopping. You kept riding him like a cowboy riding a bull and wanting to stay on for that eight seconds.

“Shhh… honey, relax…” You whisper, moaning softly as you look down into his eyes. “Wanna make you feel good, pretty boy… Get those… horrible thoughts out of your head…”

This entire thing started with you catching Azul body-checking himself, and you were having none of it. His entire body was covered in kisses within five minutes, and you were very determined to show him that you loved him, no matter if he gained or lost weight.

“Love… Shit… Love you… Y/N…” He whimpered softly, and you smiled as you leaned down to press a kiss to his neck, making him moan. “I love you, too… So… So much…” You whisper back.

Soon, you feel his member twitching inside of you, and you hop off of him and start jerking him off until he finishes with a strangled moan. “You… You didn’t come…” The poor cecaelia had more tears in his eyes as he looked over at you, and you only smiled in response. “Tonight was all about you, my love… Now go to sleep…”

Jamil Viper

“Fuck…” He whispered to himself as he was ridden into the highest echelons of oblivion. You were on top of him, smiling softly as your mind turned into mush. “Don’t stop, flower…”

You nod in agreement. His cock just made you feel so full… and you were just happy to have this moment of intimacy with your boyfriend.

“You work… so… so hard…” You whimper softly. “W-Wanna make you… feel… good…”

“You are, flower… Shit… I should work harder…if I’m gonna get… spoiled…” Jamil thought you did not have any magic, but the way your hips were grinding down onto him made him convinced that you did. There was no possible explanation, and he felt like his dick was going to melt inside you from how warm and tight your hole was.

“Love you… Love you… Jam…il…” You shuddered as you are brought to another high, euphoric orgasm.

Your lovely boyfriend, Jamil, wasn’t far behind, and he released it all inside you, breathing heavily as his hands held your hips to steady you.

“Love you, too… flower…” He whispered, starting to relax. However, his eyes widened when your hips started going again. “Baby…?”

“Shhh…” You leaned back, barely moving, but you loved the stimulation. “Wanna… Wanna go again…”

Vil Schoenheit

Your boyfriend, your beloved queen, has been so stressed with how much he had on his plate. He had recently been cast in a role that involves kissing another person, and he was worried that you would be weirded out.

However, you understood that it was just his job, and to reassure him, you went to his trailer and practically pounced on him.

The trailer was shaking with how you were riding him, and you bit your lip as you proudly ruined his mascara, eyeliner, and lipstick… smudging it all with tears and kisses.

“You’re so tense, honey…” You whisper, exhaling in pleasure as your hips rolled against his.

“Darling, please…” He whispers back, moaning in-between, “I’m supposed… t-to be on… on in… shit… an hour!”

“Shhh…” You put a finger to his lips, shaking your head. “If your… employers… fuck… have a fucking problem… they can take it to me…”

Vil never usually was the one on the bottom, but boy, did he love getting pampered like this. Having his significant other’s gummy walls wrapped around his cock made him realize that a professional kiss for a movie was insignificant. After all, you were the only one able to touch him and ruin his makeup in such a way. By the time he was close to finishing, you hopped off of him and grabbed a rag for him to shoot his load into. After all, he did not need to get more dirty than he already was.

“Thank you, darling… You always manage to make me feel better.” He smiled up at you as you grabbed a cloth to clean up any other mess. “Of course, Vil. A small kiss is nothing compared to this. I promise, I’m okay with it. Besides, I know you love me, and if you had a choice, you wouldn’t do it.”

Idia Shroud

“Please… Please…” Idia begged with tears in his eyes as you continued to grind your hips down on his cock, chasing your orgasm. You had jerked and sucked him off, and his dick felt like it was going to explode.

“You’re so pretty, baby…” You whisper with a soft sigh of pleasure. For such a lanky man, his size in the downstairs department was amazing. “...But you need to use your… fuck… your words…”

The gamer didn’t know if he could find the mental capacity to even whisper any other words aside from ‘please’ and your own name. He tried, but his mouth just stayed open as a moan came out.

He was shooting blanks at this point, with drool spilling out of the side of his lips and his eyes crossing in pleasure. It hurt… but it hurt so good. The aching in his member just felt amazing to him.

Soon, you reached your own orgasm, and you smile down at him as his body trembles and shudders. Then, you reach for your phone to take a picture to add to a gallery of pictures like that one.

“My collection is coming along nicely… mainly because the subject is beautiful when he is like this,” you teased lightly. Idia’s face and hair glow a bright pink, knowing there were many photos in that folder. He always managed to look like an ahegao hentai character when he came, and he knew that you loved it.

“Th-Thank you… you…” He whispered as he came down from his orgasmic highs.

Sebek Zigvolt

Before you, the young knight basically knew next to nothing about sex and how it can be used for anything besides basic reproduction. However, right now would be an example of when he was proven wrong.

Your hips were absolute magic, he was convinced. There was no way that his dick could experience so much pleasure and pain at the same time. You had alread made him come about three times, but you were on another level.

“H-Human, please…!” He shouts, but it’s all in-vain as he shoots another load inside of you. Yet, with how you didn’t pause, he knew that you were freaky.

“‘Please’ what, Sebek?” The smile on your face was nothing short of sadistic. Of course, you had a safeword in place just in case he was actually in pain. With how he hasn’t used it yet, you took it as a green-light to continue.

“Slow down!” He responds, looking up at you.

The way his dick filled you surprised you at first with how it was so big. You haven’t seen a size like his, and you were very excited about showing him the ropes of ‘sex for pleasure’.

“And why should I?” You ask, going a bit faster with a giggle. “Fuck, your cock is amazing, Sebek…!”

Soon, Sebek felt another orgasm coming on, and he released his fourth load inside you. Your torso was slightly bloated from how much semen was inside of you, and you finally understood why creampies were so popular during sex.

“Bottle…” The knight whispers, feeling absolutely exhausted. Your smile softens as you get up off of him, laying next to him. “You need be to get you anything, Seb? Water? A snack?” You ask, but your boyfriend shakes his head as he starts to fall asleep. Even if he would never admit it, he was absolutely adorable.

[lay-z]

You're the reincarnation of Peitho, the Greek goddess of temptation.

cw: 18+ | sex; cheating; angst; hurt/comfort; fluff; open end

No one could’ve expected this mission to turn out the way that it has after the endless briefings, preparations, and provided intel—but things turned sideways rather quickly and much more dangerous than anticipated—which led to tensions rising within the team.

Now, forced to fall back to a safe house somewhere in the wilderness of Verdansk, TF-141 is waiting for backup, tending to both fatigue and damage as they take turns on sentry duty.

While Ghost and Soap are keeping their eyes out for hostiles outside, patrolling the perimeter, Gaz is sleeping on the couch in the living room, and Captain Price is cleaning his rifle methodically at a wobbly desk in one of the dusty bedrooms upstairs.

At the sound of a timid knock against the bedroom doorframe, his eyes flit up and narrow.

“Come in.” He calls, his eyes lingering for a moment longer on his rifle before shifting over to the younger woman in the doorway.

By the way he hesitated, you can tell that he knew it’s you.

You have noticed that things have become even more tense between you and the Captain since he had that incredibly close call that surely would’ve ended in a rather complicated KIA report if Gaz hadn’t reacted the way he did and pulled him to cover fast enough just a handful of hours ago.

And now everyone is pretending that didn’t happen, which only infuriates you more.

“Captain,” you greet him tersely before clearing your dry throat.

There’s another pause as he patiently waits for you to continue while you’re momentarily distracted by the uncharacteristic slight slump of his broad shoulders and an unfamiliar kind of softness peeking through the usual sternness in his steel blue eyes.

“I just... just wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re okay, sir.”

He gives a soft scoff, setting down the rifle for a moment before he gives you a lazy smirk. “I'm fine, Sergeant,” he pauses for another moment, his smirk wavers into a grimace as he reaches back to rub his shoulder, “just a bit sore.”

Observing his tight grimace as he barely manages to tend to his injuries, you take an involuntary step into the bedroom; ignoring the thought that you’re intruding and clearly crossing those blurry lines you two have been dancing around for months on end now.

Still, the door falls shut after you give it the weakest push, and then your footsteps are nearly silenced by the thin carpet on the floor despite your heavy boots as you approach the queen-sized bed.

“You’re clearly hurt.” The statement is laced with obvious worry that goes beyond a simple superior/subordinate relationship, but you could care less in this moment.

You almost lost him today.

His smirk fades away and he gives a small sigh as he realizes that he can’t just ignore you—or the elephant in the room. John takes a seat on the edge of the bed and reaches for his shoulder to gingerly touch a particularly sore spot.

“Fine. I’m sore as hell, but that’s all.” He murmurs with a wince of pain, pulling his hand back as he tries to dismiss how bad it actually is.

“We've got painkillers for that, y’know.” The sharp remark earns you another gruff huff and you notice how he tries to straighten his shoulders once you take a seat next to him on the bed. Sitting down on one leg, you turn sideways to get a better view on his form.

“Let me at least check if there are any major cuts or scratches that need to be cleaned, okay?”

John sighs once again, clearly exasperated, but he doesn’t protest further, aware that it’s futile. “If you must.” He grumbles, reluctantly giving in, and then he reaches up to take the hem of his shirt; his fingers briefly brushing your knee for a moment as he tries to pull it over his head.

His body is lean and toned from years of military service; a fair amount of scars peeking through dark, coarse body hair along with the faded ink of old geometrical tattoos that look like coordinates. The large muscles of his arms flex as he pulls his shirt off, revealing an ornament of bruises and scratches littered on his buff torso.

“Yes, I must.”

As soon as he rids himself of his sweaty olive green undershirt, you suck in a small hiss as soon as you see the level of bruising on his right shoulder and flank.

“Nasty bruise you got there, sir,” you remark empathically, fingers already itching to touch before you eventually reach out to skim them over the deep bluish–purple marks.

You click your tongue in chide as he flinches away, and you grab a gentle hold on his flexing biceps to keep him steady as you check his skin for other wounds, and you must admit that you almost get lost in the feeling of his warm skin beneath your fingertips. You trace the curve of his back, feel each bump of his vertebrae, the raised skin of marks and old tattoo ink, the way his muscles twitch and quiver, goose bumps breaking out wherever you touch.

There is an imperceptible hitch to his breath, but he doesn’t stop your gentle ministrations.

“Looks mean, but you’re gonna live, John.” You announce casually when he eventually clears his throat as if to snap you out of your sudden trance.

The feeling of your fingertips on his skin is almost addictive—too goddamn pleasant. John can’t help but shiver when your touch grazes over his old and new bruises as well as the sensitive areas of his skin. He tries to focus on anything other than you, but it’s getting more and more difficult, and he lets out a soft laugh at your faux casual tone, trying to mask the fact that he’d really like to have you touch him further.

“Thanks for that enlightening analysis, princess.” The pet name slips out by accident and it rolls off his tongue too damn easy.

You swat at his biceps, purposely avoiding his bruised skin. “Is that the proper way to talk to your amateur nurse, Cap?”

He gives a low laugh at your playful smack, his smirk returning as he lets you inspect his bruises and wounds.

“Well, to be honest, I’m not sure if nurses should get so handsy.” He teases you in return, his smirk growing as he tries to ignore how good it feels to have your hands on him.

“Pfff.” You snort. “I can show you handsy, sir. This is nothing. I was just worried.”

He chuckles again, his dark beard twitching with the motion of his face. “Such thoughtful concern over your superior, hm?” He quips, his eyes trailing over to the closed bedroom door before returning back to you. “Ghost and Soap have guard duty until later in the night. Gaz is gettin' some rest downstairs. We’re basically alone.”

He cringes internally at his own assessment; sounding like a right numpty, though you don’t seem to mind.

“Mhm,” you hum absentmindedly, taking one last look at his back before glancing at him–only to find him already gazing at you, causing your heart to thump harder and your cheeks to warm. “What?”

John doesn’t respond right away, his blue eyes taking a long, lingering moment to drink you in. He takes in just how soft you look in the dim lighting of the bedroom, even still clad in your dirty fatigues. How your thigh is pressed against his the way you’re sitting, and just how perfect your hands look roaming over his bare skin.

He finally takes a deep breath and exhales slowly as he tears his eyes away from you to check out the door again before looking back once more, eventually answering in a soft murmur: “Nothin’.”

Meanwhile, your mind is racing: He’s my captain. He's taken, fucking married. He’s not mine. Not mine. Not mine to take. Not mine to want.

And yet, you almost find yourself pleading as you utter his name pathetically: “John–”

He eyes flicker immediately as you say his name like that—all needy and desperate. He swallows thickly as his heavy gaze lingers on you, taking in your flushed cheeks, parted lips, and how your lashes flutter.

John responds in kind; your name a gravelly murmur on his lips, just as quietly with the same hint of need in his voice.

He shouldn’t. You’re his subordinate and you’re too young. And he’s bloody married.

But he’s a weak man at heart, after all, and his blood is starting to rush and simmer while that familiar tingle starts low in his gut, causing his cock to stir in his cargo pants.

He nearly lost his life today—which wasn’t the first time, but the realization that he’s getting slow is clawing at his shoulders like a heavy burden since it happened.

John takes a deep breath, his bare chest rising and falling as his gaze flickers between your flushed cheeks and soft-looking lips. “You shouldn’t... You shouldn’t look at me that way. You’re my subordinate. I’m married–” He pauses, as if struggling to put his thoughts into words, before he continues: “I’m older than you. I’m your captain.” His voice is barely above a whisper–his way of warning you, of holding back, of convincing himself that this is a bad idea.

Your jaw clenches as his words sink in, settling deep and heavy in your gut and causing your own shoulders to slouch, my chest to ache, your stomach to drop. He’s right, of course, but that doesn’t make the situation better.

Heaving a shaky and long sigh, you glance at the dusty carpet briefly, trying to sort your jumbled thoughts and feelings before closing your eyes.

You’re tired. So fucking tired to pretend that you don’t want him, of having him pretend he doesn’t want you.

Letting your head loll forward, you rest your forehead against his naked upper arm; discreetly breathing in his scent before murmuring: “Then send me away, John. Give me the order and I’ll leave through that door.”

The feeling of your forehead on his bare shoulder makes him shiver, his fingers curling into himself as he tries to fight against the urge to reach out to touch you, to take what he’s been craving for months.. John can feel how exhausted you are—emotionally, physically, and mentally, and it mirrors how he’s feeling. He hates that he’s partly the reason for it, but he doesn’t dare to do anything to change it.

So he just sits there, listening to your words and trying to resist the impulse to wrap his arms around you in comfort.

“You should leave.” His voice is rough, though the usual command in his tone replaced by uncertainty.

You let out a snort, but it’s lacking any humour. This is unfair. Life is fucking unfair.

He smells musky; like three day old sweat, dirt, and stale cigar smoke, and you want to lick his throat, to finally have a taste while you rake your fingers through his thick chest hair.

“That’s not an order, sir,” you sigh, “that’s a bloody suggestion.”

John grits his teeth, his jaw clenches tight. He can’t deny that you have a point—he knows that his attempt at shutting this down is pretty pathetic. He knows it, but he’s not willing to admit it.

“You’re pushing it, Sergeant.” He warns you then, his tone more commanding now as he tries to keep himself from pulling you into his lap and doing something that he’ll most likely regret come morning.

“Get out.”

It’s a right stab to your heart as much as your ego, even though you know he’s doing the only right thing.

And of course, you will leave, hobbling away like a kicked puppy, and you will lick your wounds in some corner far away from him—and you might even finally let Soap lap at your neglected cunt like he’s been half-jokingly asking for until you forget your goddamn feelings for John Price.

Leaning back at once, you straighten up, clearing your throat before getting up from the bed, rolling my sore shoulders—sore from your rifles kickback and weight, sore from keeping your composure since watching your Captain nearly die today.

Perhaps somewhere in your silly, illogical mind, you thought it would change things between you. In a perfect alternate universe, John Price would’ve realized that there’s more to life than duty and survival—and he would be yours.

“Yes, sir. Have a good night, sir.”

John watches you go, his eyes following your every move as you roll your shoulders and clear your throat, slipping back into your role as obedient soldier, his sweet little Sergeant. He’s relieved that you’re finally leaving, he really is—or he desperately tries to make himself believe it.

Yet, there’s a feeling in his chest that says something entirely different. He can’t quite put a name to it, but it’s there none the less.

And it hurts.

“Good night... Sergeant.” He responds, his voice rough and uncharacteristically quiet as he continues to watch you, fighting the urge to call out for you to come back and stay.

And you don’t dare to turn around again before the bedroom door softly clicks shut behind you, leaving you standing by yourself in the semi-dark, narrow hallway of the safe house while your heart is racing, and your throat tightens as you swallow down a myriad of emotions before exhaling a shuddering breath. What the hell were you thinking? Throwing yourself at him like that?

That gruesome pressure returns in your chest and your eyes sting with tears as you lean against the door briefly, desperately trying to get a grip on yourself.

Distraction. Your spine straightens. You’re in desperate need of a distraction before you do something really stupid.

The sound of your footsteps slowly fading away brings an almost eerie feeling to the quiet night.

John remains seated on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands now as he tries to sort through his conflicting thoughts and emotions and will away the chub in his trousers. He’s more than aware that it was inappropriate for him to allow you so close to him, but he can’t deny the powerful urges he felt when you were touching him.

The sound of your sigh as your forehead rested against his bare skin haunts him; the memory of your touch on his shoulders now burned into his mind.

He never questioned it before, how the touch of Annette has never left him as breathless and discombobulated as yours, but perhaps it’s just the near death experience from today that has left his mind, body, and soul in such a bloody frenzy.

You find Soap downstairs, sitting on the tattered couch where Gaz is supposed to be; his head leaned back against the backrest, his canteen clutched tightly as it rests on his thigh.

Picking up on his light snoring, you approach slowly, careful not to startle him.

“Psst, Johnny?” you whisper, nudging the tip of his booth with yours, “Johnny? Aren’t you supposed to be on bloody watch with Lt.?”

Soap’s eyes shoot open at the sound of your voice. He’s a light sleeper as it is, but this mission has made him even more restless, and he rubs a hand over his face, scratching at the stubble at his scarred chin as he glances up at you, his bleary blue eyes narrowing as he tries to figure out what you’re doing here.

“Gaz’s takin’ my shift. What d’ye want?” He rasps out, his deep voice rough with sleep.

“Yeah, he’s a nice lad, innit,” you remark quietly, pondering for a moment as you take in his dishevelled state.

There are black grease smudges on his face, a purple bruise adorning his cheekbone, dark Mohawk looking like a hen’s nest, his tac vest half unclasped, woodland fatigues in disarray. He looks like a proper mess, though you’re not faring any better.

“You look like hell, Tav,” you whisper, mouth curling with a suppressed smile. He snorts, lifting his free hand to flip you off haphazardly. You huff in amusement, shuffling on your feet as you glance back at the stairs that lead to the first floor, and then back at Soap.

“I know you’re tired, but uhm–” Your stomach flutters and you stuff your hands into your pockets to keep them from fidgeting nervously. “Fancy a shag?”

Soap’s thick eyebrows shoot up at your blunt question, his tired expression shifting into one of curiosity and surprise. “A shag, eh?” He chuckles roughly, his lips curling into a wolfish smirk while his previously tired eyes start sparkling with bright glee.

“Cannae say I was expectin’ tha’ one now.” He straightens slightly, sitting up to get a better look at you and you almost shiver under his suddenly molten gaze as he looks you up and down agonizingly slow, before nodding his head in response.

“Aye, ‘m down.”

Exhaling a sigh of relief, some tension finally leaves your battered body.

“Brilliant,” you mutter with a step towards him; taking his canteen, you drink a long swig of the chilled water as if preparing for a marathon, before screwing it shut and holding out your free hand to him invitingly.

“C’mon, then. Don’t want the others to fuckin’ walk in on us.” You try to quip casually, though deep down, it’s a valid fear of yours.

Soap chuckles, and of course he notices your skittish nervousness, though how could he ever decline your offer—especially after a fucked up op like this one.

“Fair point.” He stands up from the couch, his body towering over you as he gives your hand a tender squeeze before he follows you towards the stairs obediently, his hand remaining securely in yours.

The sound of muffled moans and gasps fills the air, mixing with the creaking of the old bedframe and the wet slapping of skin on skin.

Soap has been sitting propped up against the worn out headboard; rough hands tightly gripping around your thighs as you ride his painfully hard dick at a tortuous slow pace, his grunts and curses blending with your soft mewls and whimpers while you roll your hips all sensual in a way Soap never dared to imagine.

He’s always fantasized about you ravishing him like a starved wildcat; scratching and biting as you tell him to fuck you harder—though he doesn’t mind the opposite. Not at all.

However, this is slowly turning into proper torture as you keep edging him—intentionally or unintentionally, he can’t tell; his brain is filled with cotton, his muscles bunched tightly with restraint to keep himself from bouncing you on his cock or fucking up into you with wild abandon. He watches how his cock disappears inside you; your essence creaming around the base of his shaft and matting his pubes as it runs down his sac.

The smell of your combined arousal is heady in the air; stuffing the small bedroom with pheromones and the scent of sex—intoxicatingly so.

Gripping your flesh tighter, his blunt fingernails dig into your soft skin as he growls out a command. “Faster. Fuck, baby–” He licks his dry lips, drinks in the bonnie flush on your cheeks, the hazy look in your eyes, and his chest puffs out. Steamin’ Jesus, you like it. “Go on, ride me faster, princess.”

Your lashes flutter shut, and you almost want to protest at the nickname, a meek attempt to keep yourself from catching anything too emotionally serious, but then Soap’s hand cups your jaw, pulling you back into the here and now with him.

“Look’it me, baby,” he murmurs deeply, his darkened eyes staring up at you in the low, gloomy lighting—a deep shade of indigo the way his pupils are blown.

And you don’t fight it. You let him guide your face down to meet his gaze, your breath hitching in your chest as you meet owlishly big eyes, seeing the raw adoration behind a faint glimmer of something feral and animalistic—like you’re something special and worth looking at, worth wanting, while his reverent touch sends wave after wave of violent shiver down your arched spine.

Then, with his cockhead nudging your cervix and his shaft stretching your sopping walls deliciously, you notice how gorgeous Johnny MacTavish is—especially like this. All debauched and fucked out because of your doing. Fucking hell, no, he’s gorgeous all the time if you’re truly honest with yourself.

A louder, more pathetic moan slips past your lips as your head lolls back when you finally pick up your pace at his encouragement. You’re properly impaled on his fat cock; feeling him in your guts as you ride him mercilessly, hands braced on his broad shoulders while his fingers dig into the fat of your ass. Your tits bounce with each grind, sore muscles clenching with exertion as you pant against his sweaty skin.

“Yeah, fuck... just like that, princess.” Soap murmurs, eyes rolling back as you start bouncing on his throbbing prick with wild abandon. “F-Fuck, so bonnie, baby. Feels s’fuckin’ good, fuckin’ perfect–ngh–” And he grits his teeth, nostrils flaring with sharper breaths, as he feels that familiar pressure in his balls, those electric tingles at the base of his spine.

He doesn’t know what you did, but he’s going to come sooner than he planned to. He forces his eyes to open as you moan his name; the sound causing his cock to twitch inside your tight channel.

And, fuck—

The sight of you is a goddamn fever dream; your body moving on top of him so perfectly, the pretty flush on your cheeks, the way your lips are parted, kiss-swollen because of him, your brows furrowed in pleasure. He can still taste your cunt on his tongue from when he’d sucked your essence off his fingers during foreplay.

You’re a bloody vision—a beautiful, sinful vision.

He tightens his grip on your ass cheeks, breath stuttering at the obscenely wet sound when his cock disappears inside your dripping hole, skins sticky with precum and your slick. His fingers dig deeper into your flesh as he pulls you closer with each movement, bucking his hips to meet your body halfway, to bury himself deeper inside you—desperate to leave his mark, to burn this moment into your memory.

Soon enough, you can feel yourself at the precipice of your own orgasm as you roll your hips more frantically; fucking yourself stupid and using his body while he’s taking what he needs just as desperately in return. He plays with your bouncing tits, slips one hand between your thighs to rub his thumb over your slick, swollen clit, leans in to drag his tongue from the valley between my breasts up the column of your throat before wrapping his bulky arms around your waist and pulling you close enough to capture your lips in a bruising kiss.

“M’gonna come,” you mewl hotly against his lips, legs trembling and nails digging into his meaty muscles as he grins back wolfishly. “Please–”

His lips are messy against yours as he captures your mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue delving deep as he swallows your moans, licking into your mouth and lapping at your silky tongue like an eager dog, greeting his owner with a wagging tail.

Soap is losing control—control he was trying so hard to keep even before you proposed this.

His fingers slide up your body; from your ass to your hips to your waist, roaming over your sensitive skin with greed. He’s about to tip over the edge, all it take is another fluttering squeeze of your cunt as desire and adrenaline rushes through his veins. In this pleasurable frenzy, he growls out a command: “Cum f’me, princess.”

And you do—you come apart on top of him, your walls clenching and rippling rhythmically around his rock hard cock in a vice grip, and a guttural moan is torn from deep within his chest as he follows your lead and lets go.

His legs jerk, his toes curl against the mattress, and his abs flex under coarse body hair as he spills his load into the condom.

For a moment, neither of you finds the strength nor mental capacity to say anything as you heavily against one another for support. The room quiets at once; silence only broken by your panting breaths as you twitch and writhe with glorious aftershocks.

Then, Soap leans his head back against the headboard, a dull thud followed by a boyish chuckle as he keeps holding you close, your face buried against his shoulder, your quaking body pressed flushed to his. His other hand pets your hair soothingly—a stark contrast to the harsh command he had whispered into your ear moments ago.

“Good girl.” Soap smirks triumphantly as he feels how you relax against him, your muscles gradually easing and melting in his embrace.

His hand continues his gentle ministrations, his touch so gentle as he holds you close, your head resting on his shoulder as your lips skim along his collarbone, causing his flushed skin to pebble with gooseflesh.

“Ye feel better now, princess?” he asks, his voice soft and almost tender, a subtle hint of his Scottish brogue lingering in his words.

You nod slowly. “Better,” you repeat softly, vulnerable, the word coming out slurred.  Pressing a kiss to his collarbone, you pull back with a lazy smile while his cock softens inside you, giving the occasional last twitch whenever you move and squeeze around him.

“Saved me lots of trouble tonight, you could say.”

“Ye’re welcome.” Soap murmurs in response and his arms tighten around your naked body, unwilling to let go just yet. He’s knows what you mean.

He could feel it right from the start, knows about the strange thing between you and the Captain, knows that this was just to take the edge off—a simple distraction, though a welcome one. He can’t quite help it, though—the protective, possessive side of his nature is suddenly rearing it’s ugly head.

It’s no secret that he’s wanted this, wanted you, basically since you joined the bloody task force. And he’d tried, God, he’d tried to shoot his shot with you multiple times now—and it’s the only one he keeps missing despite his sniper skills.

“Don’t fall in love,” he mutters under his breath before cupping the nape of your neck, pulling you even closer before he buries his face into your neck, breathing you in deeply.

Quirking an eyebrow, you let out a sharp snort, though your stomach flutters at his quip.

“I feel like that should be my line, Tav.” Soap is an emotional man—as tough and quick-tempered as he is playful and caring. A right sap that one, if you’re close enough to him.

Soap sighs, shoulders sagging. He wasn’t talking to you.

You drag your bottom lip through your teeth in thought, carding your fingers through his mussed Mohawk. “We’re good, yeah?” you ask, voice genuine, before you pull back slightly to meet his eyes.

They’re nearly shining in the dimmed light—bright and so beautifully blue again now that the cloud of lust has vanished.

Soap hums, his gaze momentarily flickering to your face as you ruffle his short hair with the tips of your fingers. He’s still breathing deep and heavy, his chest rising and falling beneath you in a steady rhythm, and he doesn’t answer your question verbally—instead, he simply grabs your chin with his free hand, angling your face towards his as he leans in for another kiss.

It’s sensual, passionate, and so very... intimate. Perhaps too intimate for the words he forces out next: “Aye, no strings attached, princess.”

The aftercare drags on longer than it should. You know that and he does, too—yet neither of you can help it nor cares.

Eventually, Soap lifts you off his lap carefully, and he sucks in a sharp breath when his overstimulated cock slips out of your abused cunt. He’s quick to grab his shaft at the base, keeping the full condom in place; smacking his lips at the sight at the sight of it—a waste of a perfectly good load.

Meanwhile, you roll over onto the mattress like dead weight, letting out a soft groan and feeling deliciously boneless.

Soap chuckles quietly at the endearing sight of your relaxed body and dopey expression.

His own body is still thrumming with a strange sense of energy, though he’s also feeling rather limp, sated. He rolls the used condom off of his softening cock, knotting it and reaching over to toss it into the open rubbish bin next to the bed before flops down beside you onto the old mattress, inhaling deeply as he stretches out his large frame, sore joints cracking and popping.

“Mmmh, ye’re one hell’uva woman, ye know,” he mumbles, his deep voice even rougher as he reaches out to pull you close with ease, tucking you in and holding you snuggly to his side while his calloused hand starts stroking up and down your back.

“Perhaps Cap should’ve more near death experiences–” He snorts.

Even in his exhaustion, he doesn’t miss how soft and right you feel pressed up against his large, muscular body, your head resting against his bare chest while his heart thuds strong and steady. He could get used to this. He wants to get used to this.

“–if it means ye’re gonna come crawlin’ into m’arms each time.”

Please consider leaving a like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed this and voted. Thanks! :)

[starmocha]

1 week — first father's day

[Zayne + Son ★ 1168 words ★ Masterlist ★ Snowdrop Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Zayne's first Father's Day. Tag list: Under cut 【 request to be added 】

A/N: I made the mistake of thinking, and realized Zayne would be celebrating his first Father's Day when his son, "Snowdrop", would only be one week old. I've been crying about it ever since. 🥺

The last remnants of your beautiful dream started to fade away, slipping off into oblivion, as you opened your eyes. For a few minutes longer, your hazy mind continued to tread between the two consciousnesses before you finally realized that the space in bed next to you was empty. You peeked over at the nightstand on Zayne’s side of the bed, seeing the time was just a few minutes passed six in the morning.

Strange, you thought, sitting up and peering around your bedroom. Zayne didn’t say anything about waking up early on Sunday.

It wasn’t just any Sunday either, you remembered. It was also Father’s Day. Even more specifically, this would be Zayne’s first Father Day.

You smiled as you glanced down at your stomach. You still carried a little baby weight from your pregnancy, but just a little over a week earlier, you had given birth to yours and Zayne’s son, and now your husband was already able to celebrate this day. You couldn’t help but felt giddy at the thought, feeling the very notion still seemed so unreal that the two of you were now parents to a baby boy, and he was now here, and he was yours.

Yours. And Zayne’s.

Again, you smiled, feeling like you had managed to build the life you could have ever wanted: You were at the top of your career, you had married the man you loved, who loved you back in the way you deserved, and together with him, you became a family of three.

Right now, everything seemed so rosy, like you were floating high in the sky within the clouds, but even if there were storms ahead, you knew with Zayne by your side, you could face any calamity. Now with a child of your own, you were even more determined to build this perfect life, to provide your child with everything he deserved and more.

Suddenly, you heard the sound of a car honking, stirring you out of your thoughts. It had already been nearly half an hour since you had woken up, and you still wondered about Zayne’s whereabouts.

Sighing, you decided to get up. You wanted to check on the baby anyway.

When you arrived at the nursery, you were surprised to see the very person you were missing.

Dressed in only gray joggers, Zayne paced around the nursery with his son cradled in his arms, seemingly unaware of your presence. The one-week-old baby’s eyes were still mostly closed, but not quite asleep. You could hear your son’s soft cooing alongside Zayne’s gentle voice as he spoke to the baby who seemed to be growing fussier by the seconds.

His voice was so low, you couldn’t make out his words, but you still found yourself secretly watching Zayne, not ready to alert him of your presence. He swayed from side to side, the baby tucked safely in his arms. Despite giving birth to the baby over a week passed the due date, the baby was still so small, especially when held by Zayne.

You smiled. The big snowman was so gentle and mindful with his little one. You found yourself falling in love all over again.

“How long do you suppose Mommy will keep spying on us?”

You perked up instantly upon hear Zayne’s voice, spoken intentionally louder, but still soft and sweet-toned to the baby. Smiling, you stepped closer, your arms instantly around his waist from behind, your cheek pressed to his back. His skin felt so cool, a perfect contrast to the warm June heatwave that was creeping in outside.

“How long have you known?”

“The floorboard creaked,” he deadpanned, adding with a smile, “Even if it hadn’t, I would always know when you are near.”

You let go of Zayne, watching as he immediately turned around and your heart skipped a beat, seeing up close and personal just how small your son looked in his father’s arm, face scrunched up before he let out a big yawn and cooed louder. You almost teared up at the sight, silently blaming your still imbalanced hormones as affecting your emotional state.

“When you are both near,” Zayne continued, unaware that he had just snapped you out of your daze. His eyes lingered on the baby boy for a few seconds longer before he turned to you with a smile.

You smiled back. “Happy Father’s Day, Zaynie.”

He looked puzzled.

You giggled.

“Did you… not know what today is?” you asked with a teasing smile.

Suddenly dumbfounded, he shook his head, smiling again when you leaned up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“How does it feel?” you asked, clarifying when he appeared puzzled again, “Being a father so far?”

He chuckled as he passed the baby over to you. He helped you settled down into the nursing chair, watching fondly as you began to nurse your hungry baby. He knelt next to the chair, his hand reaching out to cradle your cheek, and unwittingly, you leaned into his touch, relishing in the warmth of his hand.

“It feels like a dream,” Zayne admitted, catching your full attention with his words. His eyes drifted to the baby boy suckling eagerly at your breast with trickles of milk dripping down his chin. Zayne laughed and reached for a small cloth and helped wiped the milk from his son’s chin. “I still can’t believe he’s here. I’ve been holding him all morning, and yet…”

“What is it?” you pressed him gently when Zayne’s voice trailed off. You carefully shifted your son in your arms, letting your free hand reached over to touch his cheek this time. You caressed Zayne’s cheek, smiling when he leaned in to kiss your palm before his much bigger hand covered yours.

He gazed at you with gentle hazel eyes before he spoke. “Thank you,” he said instead, “For giving birth to our son. For making me a father. And…”

He leaned up, his lips suddenly centimeters from yours. You gasped in surprise, the warmth of your breath intermingled with Zayne’s before he finished his thought, his voice just barely above a whisper, “For being mine.”

He stole a kiss before you could respond, but the moment seemed to be over just as quickly as it had begun when you both heard the baby fussing louder. You both looked down startled before laughing together in amusement at the situation.

You shifted the baby to burp him. As you patted his back gently, you smiled again at Zayne, quipping helplessly, “I think we both better get used to being interrupted like that.”

He knelt back down, nodding in agreement, but you noticed the delight twinkling in his eyes as if it say he was unbothered by such interruptions. He peered up at you fondly again as you finished burping the baby, the both of you laughing again when your son let out the tiniest burp before he rubbed his face against your shoulder, his small legs kicking instinctively.

You shifted the baby again, cradling him close to your bosoms as the chair rocked gently. Your son yawned, appearing to quickly fall back to sleep after his early morning meal. Despite wanting to continue your conversation with your husband, you could feel your own eyes growing heavy just as well. Helplessly, they closed on their own, a drowsiness settling over as you rested your eyes with your sleeping baby cradled in your arms.

Suddenly, you felt a warm kiss pressed to your forehead. You forced your eyes open, seeing Zayne sitting on the floor next to you, his hand placed over your knee to rub soothingly, seemingly lulling you into a deeper sleep.

“Happy Father’s Day, Zaynie,” you murmured once more, no longer able to keep your eyes open further.

As your eyes closed, and sleep crept in, you heard Zayne’s voice answering you fondly: “Thank you, my love.”

Tag list: @lavlynyan @alfredosaws @solifloris @nezuswritingdesk @valkyyriia @natimiles @yourlocalcatscammer @callilypso @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme @qyuin @asiaticapple @rainbowsnowflake @jasmines-greentea @notisekais @littleapplle @animegamerfox 【 request to be added 】

[madamechrissy]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x you

♔ Warnings: Mentions of sex, infidelity, Cruelty from Duke Gojo. OOC. So much ANGST. Gojo is TERRIBLE you're warned

♔ Word count this chap: 2.4k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you at all, leaving you a crying mess on your wedding night, alone. Now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage that destroys you from within. Royal AU, Cruel Duke Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Gojo is awful in this. You'll hate Satoru, warning you now. HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you

♔ Playlist - ♔ Masterlist

part one

The grand hall of the Gojo manor was adorned with elegant flowers, a mix of blue and white lilies, strewn amongst the endless aisles of those gathered to watch you marry the Duke Gojo. Yes, you were arranged to marry Satoru Gojo, the most eligible bachelor there was, your parents had set this up, the match of the season, as you are the daughter of a most prominent Earl.

As you step up slowly, your beautiful white beaded gown clinging to you, there are whispers of your beauty. You were the jewel of the season, the ton had declared it so, yet there was one man who clearly disagreed, and that’s the white haired, blue eyed Duke you’re headed straight for.

The soft glow of the lights above, glittering chandeliers, are flickering against the ivory walls, as a cacophony of murmurs and music fill the area, mixing with your racing heart. You had dreamed of this day with Duke Gojo, for his charm and handsome looks had captivated you from the moment you met. He’d been so different, when you were courting, putting on his show.

But just an hour ago, right before you were to be wed, as you were walking through the beautiful gardens, lush and green, admiring the statues, you heard it, moaning.

****

“Oh, your grace, yes, there! Mmn!” You had paused, your heart in your throat as you walked by Duke Satoru Gojo, donned in his elegant white wedding suit, with his hand between one of the servant’s legs, kissing down her neck.

You stumble back in shock, smacking into a statue in your haste and huffing as you trip, catching their attention. The servant gasps, running off, her maid dress swishing, but Satoru wipes his full lips, glaring over at you. Your breasts heave up and down with the effort it takes to breathe, your corset is suddenly so tight that it is strangling you.

“What on earth are you doing here?” He demands, running a hand through his tousled white hair, his deep voice so… cruel? You gulp, looking down shyly.

“I was checking the gardens… I…” You look up at him then, at those cold blue eyes that you found so beautiful, as he’s adjusting his jacket over his lithe body. “What were you doing?”

He scoffs then, stepping closer, leaning down as he towers over you, he was taller than any man you’d seen nearly, and what once was charming was intimidating. “Just because we’re forced to marry, does not mean I will not continue to do as I please.”

You gasp again, at his twisted smirk. “I am so confused, your grace, I had thought we had at least a friendly connection, that could perhaps grow-”

Satoru Gojo places his big hands on your shoulders then, laughing, and it’s got such malice behind it, that it hurts to hear even. “I have absolutely no interest in you, I guess now is the time to make it clear.”

Your heart sinks, as your eyes fill with tears, looking down, away from his cruel gaze. “I don’t understand, I thought you said I was beautiful-”

“Everyone says that, don’t they? Everyone in the bloody ton sings your praises, the diamond, the crowned jewel, the greatest catch, even for a Duke. But guess what?” He tilts your chin up with two long fingers, and watches tears make your eyes glassy. “You’re not who I want, you could never be.”

You choke back a cry, blinking rapidly as you try to speak. “So what, you want the servant?”

He chuckles darkly. “I want anyone but you. And I’ll have them, any time I want, and you’ll endure it, because that’s what this is. A false partnership, forced on me.”

“It was forced on me too!” You smack at his hand then, scowling, earning more of his laughter, sharp white teeth glinting.

“Do stop lying, my Lady, you surely always wanted to marry me. Marry the Duke. But go ahead and pretend.”

“As if women have a choice.” You speak through gritted teeth, and now he’s scowling at you.

“Everyone wants me.”

“Well guess what, everyone wants me too.”

His white lashes lower over those cerulean eyes. “Not I. Never would. You’re nothing to me.” Satoru speaks softly, like a fucking caress, and you turn on your heel and run.

****

But still, the ceremony must continue. As you step forward, the murmurs of the crowd fade into the background. You could feel the weight of his presence beside you when you step up next to him, but the warmth you had once hoped for with Satoru had turned cold. He’s looking at you with clear disinterest in his perfect features as the priest says your vows.

When the moment came and he leaned down to kiss you, your first kiss you have ever had, it was merely an icy brush of lips, that left you feeling hollow. Before he slid a disinterested gaze back to the room. As the ceremony goes on, and friends and family congratulate you both, he plays his part, the elegant Duke, so charming and witty. So gorgeous that everyone loves him.

You play your part, the beautiful belle of the ball, the dainty little lady that had just become a Duchess. You’d prepared your whole life to be a wife, and you’d dreamed of the charming Duke since you were naught but a child, and now? When you think about it, the walls close in, everything is too noisy, and the weight of his words and actions kill you.

You watch as he dances with every woman there is, as he starts to drink and act brazen, foolish, but you must hold it together, it is your duty, is it not?

When a tall, handsome man with long dark hair comes, bowing to you, you recognize him as Duke Gojo’s best friend, Lord Suguru Geto. He is a prominent Earl, and one that you had become quite friendly with, for once he had courted you, however your family had pushed and pushed for the Duke. Now, as he holds his hand out, his chocolate eyes glimmering, you cling to his hand like a lifeline.

“You’re a vision, my Lady. May I have a dance? I’ve noticed you’ve been quite a wallflower.” He says softly, and you nod, your gloved hand clutching his tightly.

“I should love to, my Lord. And thank you.” He smiles, and takes you to the floor, where you all dance elegantly, to the soft quadrille playing. People watch and many smile, as you both were skilled dancers.

“I’m very sad that you’re taken, I wish I could say otherwise. But I do wish you the best, even if I’m so very selfish.” Lord Suguru says softly, and you tense a bit, making his cheeks flush. “I should not say such things. I’m sure Duke Gojo will be a very good husband to you.”

You scoff, before covering it up, clearing your throat. “I am sure he will be, thank you Lord Suguru.” You feel it then, Duke Gojo’s blue eyes, staring daggers at you both as you’re in Lord Suguru’s arms, making you shiver.

Suguru smirks a bit. “Ah, he seems possessive of his new bride, as he should be, you’re the most beautiful bride there could be.”

Possessive, ha!

You want to scream, you want to cry, as you remember him up that maid’s skirts, blatant, even now he’s dancing with some woman who’s whispering in his ear. “Thank you, you’re too kind though, my Lord. I surely am not.”

“You absolutely are.” He smiles down, and his smile is so soft, so sincere, then you wish that you never got stuck in this. That you could be with someone who looks at you like this, not like how Duke Gojo glares like he just despises you.

****

Soon, it’s the night of your wedding, and you’re wearing a pretty silk nightgown, it’s sheer and white and nearly see through, along with white garters and stockings with little bows on them. You’re brushing your hair nervously in the gilded mirror, the silver brush making crackling sounds along with the fire that blazes in your new chambers, surely fit for a queen.

But why do you feel so depressed here?

The door opens, and you jerk, to see Duke Satoru Gojo, shirtless and merely wearing sleep trousers, you’ve never seen a naked man, and you can’t help but stare. Every inch of him is chiseled to perfection, his pale skin glistening like marble, the fire casting shadows on every worked muscle. You gulp, struggling to hide the flush of your cheeks, looking down.

“Have you never seen a man?” You shake your head, as he walks to you now, dominating, looming over you. “You’re afraid.”

“Y-yes. I know what is expected of a wedding night.” You whisper, earning a snicker of laughter.

“Stand up. Let me see you.” You do as he says, trembling legs standing as you set your brush next to its matching silver comb and mirror. They were your treasured gifts from your mother.

Your eyes look up to him, as he runs his fingers down the edges of the thin satin straps, as he then slides his fingers down your curve of your breasts, making your nipples taut, goosebumps raising. There is some odd feeling in your core. The Duke smirks as they show, and you feel so embarrassed you can’t even think, hating your body’s wicked reactions to him.

“I bet everyone has always told you how beautiful you are. How perfect you are. Haven’t they, Duchess.” You nervously bite a lip, as he walks around you in a slow circle, taking you in like a predator. “You have the perfect hips for child bearing they all say, you have the tiniest waist, so fashionable. You have such delicate features too, don’t you, and such lovely hair.”

He runs his hands through it, as he’s behind you, then he pulls your hair, making you cry out. “What do you care, I’m of no interest.” You bite out, making him chuckle, his hot breath tickling your ear.

“Perfect body, perfect face, perfect posture… oh, perfect speech, and you’re talented at everything aren’t you? Piano forte, singing, dancing… bet you’re trained to be the perfect wife too.”

“What does any of that matter? I am not perfect at everything.”

“That’s what everyone tells you, don’t they?” You look down, as he lets your hair go, letting you exhale before he’s back in front of you. “Don’t look so afraid, Duchess.” That word from his lips is like a curse word, he spits it out.

“Just get it done, I don’t want it anymore than you.” You say with a scowl, sliding down your straps then, making him tense, his eyes flicker for just a moment, before he shoves them back up.

“You’re so desperate, you think I want you at all? In any way?” You can only take so much, now you’re close to sobbing, and tears trickle down your cheeks, making the Duke’s lips quirk up, as he brushes one away with a long finger. “You crying, my lady? That won’t do. You have to be a good Duchess.”

“We must consummate the marriage, have heirs, just get it done. I don’t want this to go on longer than it must.”

“I have no intentions of consummating anything.” You blink in confusion, looking up, and you’re far too close, you can feel his body heat, but inside Satoru Gojo is cold, so cold you’re freezing to death.

“But, the marriage…”

“I’ll not lay with you. I will lay with who I wish to, you’ll be my wife in all the ways you’re supposed to be, but not that. Did you want my cock so desperately? Aw… you poor thing. Crying over it.” His mocking tone infuriates you as he brushes a finger over your cheek.

You smack his hand now, glaring. “Oh, so then I’m free? To be with whoever I want, hmm?”

Satoru scowls, twisting his pretty features. gripping your wrist with a brutal grasp in a big hand, making you wince. “Excuse me? You’re not the man here, you’re the woman, the wife.”

“Then I’ll get an annulment, let you marry who you wish-”

“You’ll stay my wife.”

“Then I’ll do just as you, except I won’t rut in the gardens like a pig.” Satoru slaps your cheek then, and you gasp as it stings you, looking up at him with shocked, pained eyes, and for a moment his thin white brows go together, and he opens his pink lips, as if to speak, then shuts them.

“I didn’t… I…”

You haul back and smack him as hard as you can, you smack the Duke right in his pretty face, making him glare now, trembling with rage. “Excuse the impropriety, but fuck you, Duke Gojo.”

“You wish I would fuck you, but I’ll never want you. Why would I?” He keeps staring at your cheek now, frowning, but then going back to glaring at you, and you smirk as you see the hand print you left on his own, raised and pink.

“Good, I don’t want you either. Go have your fun, Duke, never worry, I’ll keep up appearances. I have been trained, as you said.” You turn away then, your heart thudding in your chest, your tears threatening to burst from your eyes.

“You enjoy the lie, you know you want it, it’s why your nipples were rock hard. I bet you’re wet too.” He’s sliding his hands down your hips, far too close, and you jerk away quickly, earning his anger.

“I don’t even know what that means, but I do not want you, so never fear, I will never, ever try.” He pauses at that, white lashes blinking.

“You’ve not even had a talk about sex, and yet you meant to consummate the marriage?”

“What does it matter? We’ll have no children, and not lay in bed together. If that’s what you wish.”

His jaw locks. “It is.”

“Then leave.”

It’s as if he expected you to beg him, to want him, as if he expected you to fall to his feet. But you will not waiver, though his words and looks are so painful, though the world is shattering around you, you’re stubborn enough to not show him, to not reveal the truth. He’d just use it as a weakness.

“Enjoy the wedding night, Duchess.” He says finally, leaving with a slam that echoes in your chambers, and you sink to the hardwood floor, sobbing, hugging your knees and burying your face in your folded arms.

Your wedding night, alone, married to a man that hates you. A man that will never want you, that will lay with others, and you’re just going to be stuck, playing your role, aren’t you? The loneliness sinks in, the hopelessness, until you sob yourself to sleep right there on the cold hard floor, as cold as Duke Gojo.

Part 2 here!

[chidorrrita]

・❥・I'm your puppet

You bring up the idea of L using you to distress. He agrees. Absolute filth follows.

: ̗̀➛ l lawliet x gn!reader

: ̗̀➛ cw: smut (pretty obvious), heavy degradation, slight praise, breeding, slapping, slight cum eating, being called pretty little thing and slut, reader is a freak for L

: ̗̀➛ wc: 1000+

: ̗̀➛ a/n: two posts in a week, who would have guessed. anyways please enjoy the degenerate activities here. 

L positions you in the way he wants, pulls you up by your throat, long fingers curling around constricting your breaths, until your body is pressed against his, as his hips snap against the fat of your ass causing a “pap pap” sound to echo throughout your room. 

He’s relentless in his search for pleasure, paying you no mind, as his hand begins to squeeze your throat, the other snakes its way to seize your hip in a bruising grip, and hot pants and low grunts escape his chapped lips as they brush against your ear. Your mind turns to mush, no longer able to distinguish pain and pleasure as it creates a sinful mix tricking you into begging for more. All that comes out is a series of babbles, drool dripping down onto your chest, and L smugly laughs at your pathetic self. Too drunk off this moment to say or do anything as he bends you over, forcing your head into a pillow, to hit that sweet spongy spot inside. You let out a scream of delight as if he understood your pleads, and in return clench around his cock deliciously. He lets out another grunt, deep from within his chest, and smacks your ass letting the sting linger before smacking it again with just as much force. It sends your body jolting forward, too much for your broken mind to handle, and you try to squirm from his grasp, but he drags you back to where you belong. Taking his cock like you were made for this, made to be ruined by him. 

Muffled mewls and a feeble excuse of thrusting yourself back on his dick makes his mind lose focus. Normally crippled by the weight of his cases, L kneels taller now, filled with thoughts of fucking you full. He pulls out, just kissing your hole with his flushed tip, until ramming himself back in, setting a brutal pace on your body. You couldn’t be more delighted. 

It was your idea to help him distress. A method, other than eating a concerning amount of sweets, to relax him. 

You picked at the threads on your sweater as you watched him reach for another stack of macarons after downing two boxes. His fingers danced across his keyboard, quickly typing out a report in some language you can’t discern, before he spots you shyly inching over. 

L stuffs a strawberry macaron in his mouth before asking “woul’ ‘o’ ‘ike o’e” offering you a vanilla one. 

“No it’s okay” you say trying to hide a chuckle bubbling its way out. “I was actually wondering how your job is going.”

He continues to violently chew, “ ‘qui’e ‘ell,” he swallows thickly, “why do you ask?”

“Well,” you peer down to your socks, rubbing your toes against the carpet, “I was just worried if you were stressed. You’ve eaten almost three boxes of those.”

“Sugar keeps the brain awake,” he states matter-of-factly as he goes to grab another one.

Your hand stops his, holding it in place, and he looks up to you slightly confused with his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth. He’s trying to read you.

“Maybe you should rest a while. Let your brain reset, you know?” His gaze shifts to his laptop. The report is nearly finished, and it has been weeks since he could sleep for more than an hour. He can never fully rest on a job like he can when he’s with you. His mind is plagued by images of known friends and nameless faces calling him, but you keep them at bay. Perhaps resting will do him some good. 

His voice softens to barely a whisper, “that would be good,” until he corrects himself “then I can continue working.”

“I’ll help you distress.”

L starts to get ready for bed, gingerly changing into his pj’s which really only consists of taking off his pants, and begins to slip into bed until he notices your apprehensive self still standing at the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh. Nothing, nothing,” but you still remain at the door.

His eyes squint in suspicion, letting silence question you instead of him. You quickly relent. “I mean… Well I feel bad now.”

More silence.

You sigh, frustrated at the fact your will power breaks so easily for him. “I was going to ask if you wanted to have sex to distress, but then you were actually going to sleep and now-”

“I would very much like to have sex with you.” 

“-I feel like an asshole- wait what?”

“I said I would like to have sex.”

The air in the room turns thick with the smell of sweat and sex cut by your pornagraphic moans, and L’s harsh pants, and the sound of his heavy balls hitting your ass. 

The position he has you in makes him hit even deeper than you could imagine, leaving you incapable of moving let alone thinking, but no need to think. A pretty little thing like you doesn’t need to think when you have L as your lover. He knows what you need is to be a good little slut and take his cum.

Your hoarse voice says “‘is too much. Can’t take it.” between moans, legs shaking underneath L’s thighs.

He accentuates each word with a thrust. “Yes.” “You.” “Can.” forcing the bed frame to hit the wall. 

He bends over your hunched frame, lips leaving sloppy wet kisses against your neck until he reaches your neck and he whispers “be good for me,” and you cum.

Stars dance around the corner of your vision as a soundless scream escapes you, and your hole tightens around L’s cock making him hiss. He drops to his elbows, succumbing to only shallow thrusts until it’s all too much and he cums filling your hole and pushing it back in with his cock. He stays until he softens and falls out, and his eyes fall on your thighs. His cum is smeared across your inner thighs, dripping down between your ass and on to the bed. He scoops it back up and pushes it in, not wanting to waste a single drop, and you moan at the intrusion. 

He takes his cum covered fingers to your parted lips, already familiar with routine, and you wrap them around his fingers, tongue swirling to get every last bit. You release them with a ‘pop,’ eyes waiting patiently for your reward, and he obliges, kissing you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue. 

He gets up to get a towel and begins to get you cleaned up, kissing each bruise he left, and massaging your sore limbs. 

“You did so well for me.”

“Would you say you’re sufficiently relaxed?”

“Yes, very relaxed. Thank you.”

He kisses your head, and tucks you into bed smiling to himself. How he ever got you to be his lover, he will never know, but he is forever grateful you are.

[honeybubblebeeeeee]

Arranged marriage AU!Toji x Reader

Summary: Your son with toji, Megumi, said his first words today

CW: toji is cold and distant mostly hurt and no comfort mild fluff i guess??

Idk this was a random thought and now its here

REQUESTS OPEN!

Marriages were not always done out of love. Some were done out of necessity or desperation. Much like the one you were currently in. It was necessity of clans and land squabbles and power hungry old men that didn't care for the feelings of those around them - only getting what they want.

And in your case they got what they wanted. Did you get anything you wanted? Well kinda.

Being in an arranged marriage to Toji wasn't the worst thing to happen to you. It could be worse but it could also be much, much better.

You had known each other since you were children as it was planned from a young age that you two were to be married. You hadn't minded. Toji was attractive and you had a mini crush on him for the longest time but he always detested you. You knew of the numerous women he had slept with before your marriage, having run into them multiple times. It felt like he was trying to push you away, to force you to beg for an out but you both knew that wasn't happening.

You had only been married for a short time now almost two years. It had been mostly uneventful in the name of new marriages aside from - ya know - the whole baby you had. Toji and you were told to waste no time in trying to produce an heir and really that was the only Toji showed you any affection. Outside of those moments he was cold and inattentive. Those moments were only out of the necessity to reproduce anyway. He didn't interact with your son Megumi very much either.

You cleaned up the kitchen after dinner in your large but yet lonely house. Toji was still out. Work or something else you weren't sure. Megumi babbled and bounced as he watched you move around the kitchen from his highchair, music played in the background. You smiled at him as he babbled. "Hi 'Gumi." You waved at him smiling wide. He laughed giddly at your voice, his mop of black hair bouncing with his movements.

He was the happiest and the cutest baby you had ever seen. You were more than proud of yourself. It was only mildly hurtful that Megumi was identical to Toji. His dark hair, his facial structure screamed Toji. The only thing he had gotten from you was your eyes. They reflected back at you as you approached the bouncing baby putting him on your hip.

You danced along to he music, bouncing him around as he laughed and babbled.

You put him down on the floor as you turned off the music. He continued babbling to himself as he crawled around. "Dadadadadada"

You turned almost comically slow to look down at your son. "What?!" Your smile was wide and your face was full of surprise.

Megumi babbled on again almost coherently. "dadadadadada"

You were so in shock you could barely move. Picking him up and swiftly sitting him on the counter. "Gumi did you say dada?! Say it again! Say dada."

Megumi laughed and babbled at you. You repeated the word multiple times, he watched intently his mouth moving as if trying to copy you. More coherent this time. "Dada"

You smiled wide and clapped at him. "Good job Megumi!! Oh my we have to tell Dada don't we? Such a smart boy."

Within the same moment Toji burst through the front door. You looked up at him as he passed by the kitchen, not even taking off his shoes before going to stomp up the stairs. "Toji! Oh my gosh come here Megumi just-"

"Leave me alone." He marched up the stairs. You heard his footsteps through the house and his bedroom door slammed. You looked down at Megumi as his small hands held onto your shirt and he looked up at you with big eyes. "Dada." You smiled softly at him. "Yeah baby... dada." Looking towards the stairs as if seeing him stomp up to them all over again.

Hours went by and he never came back down. You texted him that his dinner was in the fridge, that you wanted to show him something, that you were here for him if he needed anything, that you were sorry he had a bad day and he never answered or even read a single message.

Since figuring out he could say 'dada' Megumi had not stopped repeating it. You knew it wasn't to annoy you but you couldn't help feel a pang of hurt every time he said it. Toji was rarely around. Why couldn't his first word be mama, the one who is always around?

It was Megumi's bed time but you really thought Toji hearing Megumi would lighten up his day a little. You sighed to yourself as you built lego towers with Megumi upstairs in his playroom. Here you were, still trying to be the wife but he really was making you into a stranger.

You bathed and dressed Megumi in his pjs and held him close as he looked up at you. "Should we go see if dada is busy Megumi?" His eyes widened at the word and continued his babbling mantra of it. You walked through the east half of the house where your room and Megumi's plus your own office, some extra rooms and Megumi's playroom were. Toji's side was the west wing. If you were actually husband and wife you would share the north wing, where the extravagant bedroom - apartment practically - sat bare and collected dust. You looked to the double doors at the end of the north hall with disappointment before making you way to the west end and stepping up to Toji's door.

You hesitated before knocking softly. Waiting a moment before looking down at Megumi and shrugging. "I don't know if he's awake bud." You thought for a moment before slowly pushing the door open and peering inside. The light were on so you entered even though you knew you shouldn't. Toji never let you in his room. You'd only be in here a handful of times and all those times were unpleasant.

You walked through the sitting area into the bedroom until you noticed the bathroom door shut. You shook your head, looking to Megumi, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "I think we will show dada tomorrow okay?" Megumi was unusually quiet, maybe being able to feel the tension that grew in your body. Turning swiftly you made for the door you came through but before you made it out of the bedroom the bathroom door opened.

"What are you doing in here?" Toji's voice was loud and cold. You turned to look at him. Water dripped from his wet hair, his body damp with steam. A towel hung loosely around his waist. "Did I say you could come in my room?" His eyes bore holes into you. The heat that rushed into your face gave away your fear.

You looked down to the son you both created, trying to look anywhere but at the way his muscled form rippled infront of you. It was easier to pretend you didn't find him attractive or care about him or have feelings for him when he wasn't right infront of you.

"Oh... sorry... I just..."

He eyed you, how you stayed focus on Megumi. The small boy holding onto your free hand. "What happened? Is Megumi ok?" His expression changed as he approached the two of you. His voice still cold and annoyed but a hint of concern hid underneath it all.

Your head snapped to him. Eyeing him closely for a reaction. "Nothing I just... he said his first word today. I thought it might cheer you up to hear it if I can get him to say it again."

His features softened ever so slightly. "His first word?" Toji tilted his head in thought. "What was it?" You couldn't help but notice the small amount of excitement in his voice.

Megumi bounced in your arms at Toji's voice, babbling along as if trying to figure out how to say it all over again. I smiled at Toji and then back down at Megumi. I pointed at Toji. "Who's that Gumi? Hmm? Say dada! Say it again baby show dada."

Megumi babbled and pointed towards Toji for a few moments before sounding out dada once again.

Toji's face immediately brightened. "What?! Dada??" He chuckled deeply, one that sounded genuine and it shook something in you. "He actually said it. Good boy Megumi." Toji stepped up to you and the baby as he spoke. Brushing Megumi's heap of hair back.

You kissed to side of Megumi's head as he bounced on your hip. "He hasn't even said mama yet." You chuckled softly but the tinge of hurt was in your voice. "Anyway that was all I wanted to tell you. Sorry for coming in your room, I know I'm not supposed to."

He shook his head. "it's okay." He assured as he watched Megumi babble and squirm in your grip. He was overtired for sure. Toji seemed to be a different person than the one you had come accustomed. His permanent scowl was gone and he looked almost happy. "Can I hold him?"

His question shocked you. Eyes widening but you handed him over.

Toji softly cradled him, rocking him back and forth as he whispered to him. Megumi didn't cry or fuss, even his overtired babbling stopped. Slowly his eyes got heavy and closed. You watched intently as Toji interacted with your son. If it could be like this all the time.

"He really does have my hair. He's got your eyes too." Toji commented quietly while admiring his son. His eyes flicked up to yours for a moment.

I smiled at him. "Yeah... he does..."

Toji chuckled softly. "He really does look like me. It's kinda scary."

You laughed a little more sincerely than you intended. "He does, has your personality too."

Toji chuckled low. "Yeah, he's cold and distant just like me?"

Your smile dropped, panic set in at his words. "Oh n-no I didn't mean it like that..."

Toji shook his head and looked up at you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips at your panicked expression. "I was joking, I know what you meant." He assured as he watched the sleeping Megumi in his arms.

You let go of a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. "oh right."

Toji whole aura seemed to relax when he held Megumi. You wished he could be around all the time. That he could be the father figure Megumi needed. That he could be the husband you wanted. To come home after a long day, and sit together. To be able to go to him when you needed a hug or reassurance or just wanted to feel loved. Your eyes focused as you realized that Toji was watching you deep in thought. Shaking your head you held out your arms. "I can take him now if you want. I don't want to bother you."

He held onto Megumi for a moment, seeming almost reluctant before handing him over to you. You smiled and nodded at him, turning to leave. He called out to you as you reached the door. "Wait, Y/N-"

You turned to look at him. "What's up?"

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it slowly. "Never mind sorry. Goodnight."

You eyed him for a moment before reluctantly turning away. "Alright... goodnight."

He couldn't bring himself to tell you the things he wanted to say. He couldn't find the words. How does he make up for the suffering you already endured? You had always so easily melted his cold dead heart, so he kept you at a distance but you had been so close. He already felt it melting.

[mythicalmaven]

Revealed Desires - Lando Norris

(This is a sequel to Secret Desires, but could also be read separately)

Here is part two of the requested oneshot! I loved writing it so much, that I needed to write a part two! It accidentally turned out WAY longer than I intended, but I love how it turned out! Hope y'all like it! Please let me know if you did! :)

Masterlist This is part two of this one (reading the previous part is advised for more context lol, but you technically could read it separately) ↳pairing: Lando Norris x f!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 8,9K ↳Summary: In which the story continues after the reader (Max Verstappen's twin sister) had a rather interesting text exchange with & FaceTime call with her best friend Lando Norris after he had drunkenly texted her about his sexual fantasies about her. ↳content warnings: reader is Max Verstappen's twin sister, Lando is her best friend, but also more, friends to lovers, first kiss, sexual tension, teasing, dirty talk, smut, 18+ content (MDNI!), explicit sexual content, handjob, blowjob, oral sex f!receiving, orgasm denial, p in v, making love, praise kink,

It had been a few hours since that intimate phone call with you, and yet the giddy sensation still coursed through Lando's veins like wildfire. He obviously still felt incredibly embarrassed about drunk texting you the way he did, but it lead to something great. Something he enjoyed so much, he can't put it into words. The knowledge that you felt the same way about him had turned the usually composed British driver into a lovesick puppy, unable to wipe the goofy grin off his face. He'd been in love with you for quite some time, but now that his feelings were out in the open, everything felt more intense, more real.

Since that call, Lando had managed to shower, get dressed, and gather his things to hang out with a few of the guys at Charles’ place. But the whole time, he’d been distracted, replaying every moment of your conversation, every breathy word exchanged, over and over in his mind.

By the time he arrived at Charles' house and plopped down onto the couch, the weight of it all—how much his life had changed in a few short hours—settled in. But just as he began to sink into his thoughts, he felt a pair of familiar eyes boring into him.

Max was staring at him, that infuriatingly smug grin stretching across his face. "Good morning, Mr. Casanova," Max teased, the humor in his voice impossible to miss as he watched Lando try to hide within the collar of his hoodie.

"Oh god, please, shut up," Lando groaned, pulling the hood further over his face in a futile attempt to disappear. "I don't even remember half of what I said to you last night."

Charles, who had perched himself on the armrest of the couch, took a casual sip of his coffee. The amusement radiating off him was palpable as he clapped a hand on Lando’s shoulder. "Unfortunately for you, Max remembers all of it."

Max leaned back into the cushions, making a dramatic gagging sound as if to punctuate his point. "I wish I could forget some of the things you said, mate," he chuckled. "But I have to admit, some of it was pretty funny. Adorable, even."

Lando's face flushed a deep crimson, his stomach twisting with embarrassment. "Do I even want to know what I said?" he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he avoided the eyes of both his friends.

Charles set his coffee cup down on the table, his expression turning thoughtful. "Well," he began, running a hand through his hair, "you started out pretty innocent. You were going on about how head over heels you are for her—though I can’t recall the exact words, it was clear enough."

Lando groaned again, his face burning with shame as he sank further into the couch. "God, Max, I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "I never wanted you to find out like this."

Max raised his eyebrows, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "You really think I didn’t already know you were in love with my sister?" he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle. "You’ve been obvious for a while now, even when you weren’t drunk off your ass."

Lando’s eyes widened in shock, his heart skipping a beat. "A-Are… you s-serious?" he stammered, unable to believe what he was hearing.

Charles rolled his eyes, smirking. "Dude, you stare at her more than you do your own race car," he teased. "And let’s not forget that your entire way of talking to each other is just… well, flirting."

Lando felt his heart rate pick up, a mix of relief and mortification washing over him. "Oh," he muttered, his voice small.

"But if that was the innocent part," Lando began, dreading the answer, "what in god's name were the other things I said?"

Max snorted, leaning forward with a grin. "Well, once you were really wasted, you didn’t even seem to notice I was there anymore," he began, the disgust creeping back into his voice. "You were pretty much ranting to Charles about how hot she is and how you’d kill to see her naked."

Charles burst out laughing, almost spilling his coffee in the process. "Hey! Don’t leave out the best part," he chuckled, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "You also said that if you had the chance, you’d fuck her on every single piece of furniture in your house."

Max made a dramatic gagging noise again, waving his hands in front of his face. "Okay, enough, ew," he protested, though the laughter in his voice was unmistakable. "We’re talking about my twin sister here, remember?"

Lando buried his face in his hands, sinking so far into the couch he thought he might disappear entirely. "Fucking hell," he muttered, staring up at the ceiling in defeat. "I really am a gigantic idiot."

Max’s laughter subsided into a low chuckle as he leaned back into the cushions. "Well, spilling the beans on your feelings was one thing, but I’m curious how you’re going to talk your way out of this with her," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and curiosity. "You kept going on about needing to text her about something 'very private.'"

Lando groaned again, this time so deeply it resonated in his chest. "Please don’t remind me," he mumbled, knowing all too well what Max was referring to.

Max grinned, clearly enjoying every second of Lando’s discomfort. "So, after I dragged your sorry ass home, I decided to give her a little heads up," he continued, his voice dripping with teasing humor. "But she told me it was a little too late because, apparently, you had already sent her quite the intense text."

Charles, who had been taking another sip of his coffee, choked on it immediately, coughing violently as he tried to suppress his laughter. "Mon dieu," he managed to gasp out between coughs, his face turning red from the effort. "What the heck did you even text her? Did you send her a nude or something?"

Before Lando could even process the question, Max threw his hands up in the air. "Don’t answer that while I’m in the room! I don’t even want to know!" he exclaimed, half laughing, half horrified. "We’re talking about my twin sister here! I need more coffee."

With that, Max got up and headed towards the kitchen, leaving Lando and Charles alone in the living room.

Charles eyed Lando with a raised eyebrow, the teasing smirk never leaving his face. "Now, do tell," he urged, clearly eager to hear the juicy details.

Lando sighed, running a hand through his messy curls. "God, I don’t even want to think about it," he muttered, his voice filled with both regret and reluctant amusement. "I cringe at myself every time I read it back."

Charles chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Did you at least talk to her about it?" he asked, his tone becoming more serious. "I mean, considering you’re not sulking in a corner, I assume she doesn’t hate you now, right?"

Lando felt the heat rise to his cheeks again, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Ehm… yeah, we talked about it," he admitted, his voice trailing off as he tried to downplay the situation.

Charles’ eyes widened in surprise, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "Oh my god, you guys did not…" he started, his voice dripping with playful accusation.

Lando hesitated, biting his lip. "Maybe," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Charles burst out laughing, clapping Lando on the back with a hearty smack. "So, let me get this straight," he began, still chuckling. "You got wasted, accidentally sexted your best friend, and she… liked it? And then you pretty much continued the conversation? Do you even remember a thing of it, or is your text history your only proof?"

Lando’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he avoided Charles’ gaze, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Ehm… it might’ve happened this morning through text… then later through FaceTime," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Charles let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Nice job, mate," he said, his tone filled with both amusement and genuine admiration. "Better not tell Max that you had literal phone sex with his twin sister."

Before Lando could respond, they heard Max’s voice echoing from the kitchen. "God, I really did not want to hear that," Max groaned, his tone laced with exasperation.

Charles laughed again, turning his attention back to Lando. "Well, now that you’ve crossed that line, what’s the next step?" he asked, his tone more serious now. "Are you going to talk to her about where this is going?"

Lando let out a long sigh, leaning back into the couch as he tried to collect his thoughts. "I mean… yeah, I guess I have to," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I can’t just pretend like nothing happened."

Charles nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. "You’re right," he agreed. "But, honestly, it sounds like you two are already on the same page. You just need to have an actual conversation about it."

Lando nodded, feeling a mix of anxiety and anticipation swirling in his chest. "Yeah… I know, we talked about if for a little.." he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I-I admitted my feelings to her. We did kind of agree to starting something real once she's back in Monaco"

Charles gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, his smile softening. "That's good"

"Yeah, I actually have to pick her up from the airport tomorrow" he told Charles, a hint of something else in his voice "I would lie if I said I wasn't nervous about it. Just scared that she might come to the conclusion that she regrets it, once she sees me in real life again"

*The following day*

Lando sat in his car at the airport, his nerves doubling with each passing second. His fingers fumbled restlessly in his lap as he tried—and failed—to calm himself down. He had spent the entire night tossing and turning, his mind racing with thoughts of how he should greet you when you finally arrived. Despite offering numerous times to meet you at the gate, to carry your suitcases like a gentleman, you had refused each one with a teasing smile, insisting that you were "a big girl" and could manage on your own. Now, he wondered if he had been too pushy, if maybe he should have backed off and given you more space.

As he waited, Lando’s mind continued to wage a war against itself. Should he just hug you like he always did, keeping things light and familiar? Or should he throw caution to the wind and kiss you, putting everything on the line? The thought of kissing you, of finally feeling your lips on his after all these years of longing, made his heart race. But what if you didn’t want that? What if you pulled away, leaving him to wallow in his embarrassment?

His internal debate was abruptly cut short by the sound of a knock on his window. Lando looked up, his heart skipping a beat as he met your eyes. There you were, standing just outside his car, a soft smile on your lips. That smile—the one that always made his chest tighten—sent a wave of warmth through him. He quickly opened the door, jumping out to help you with your luggage.

"Hi," you murmured softly, echoing the way you had greeted him during your FaceTime call. The familiarity of your voice, that gentle tone, sent a shiver down his spine.

Lando smiled back, feeling the tips of his fingers brush against yours as you both reached for the handle of your suitcase. The slight contact sent a jolt of electricity up his arm, and he had to resist the urge to pull you into his arms right then and there. He inhaled deeply, trying to steady his breathing, but the proximity, the way you looked at him, made it impossible to think straight.

"Fuck this," he muttered under his breath, the words slipping out before he could stop them. In a swift movement, he reached up, sliding his fingers around the back of your neck, his thumb gently brushing against your jaw. The world seemed to slow down as he tilted your face up toward his, his heart pounding in his chest as he finally closed the distance between you.

When his lips met yours, it was like every pent-up emotion, every moment of longing, exploded into that kiss. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a confession, a release, an answer to all the questions that had been swirling in his mind. His fingers tightened in your hair, pulling you closer as he let himself get lost in the sensation of finally, finally, kissing the one girl he had been in love with for what felt like forever.

Your response was immediate and overwhelming. You released the suitcase from your grip, one of your hands moved up to tangle in his curls, pulling him closer, while the other slid down to cover his hand, guiding it to your waist. The heat of your body against his was intoxicating, and Lando felt like he was drowning in you, in the softness of your lips, in the way you seemed to melt into him.

As your kiss deepened, Lando could feel your breath hitch, your body pressing even closer to his as if you couldn’t get enough. He took the invitation, gently parting your lips with his, and when your tongues met, it was like a spark igniting a wildfire. His hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him as he backed you up against the side of the car. The cool metal of the car against your back contrasted with the heat between you, making you gasp softly into the kiss.

Every touch, every brush of your lips, every flick of your tongue sent shivers down Lando’s spine. He could feel your heartbeat against his chest, could hear the soft, breathy sounds you made as the kiss grew more urgent. His hands roamed your back, sliding up to cup your face, then back down to your waist, as if trying to memorize every curve, every inch of you. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you, completely lost in each other.

You responded with equal fervor, your hands exploring the expanse of his back, his shoulders, as you gave in to the overwhelming pull of desire that had been building between you for so long. The way Lando kissed you—desperate yet tender, with a mix of hunger and reverence—made your heart swell with emotion. It was as if he was pouring all his love, all his need, into that kiss, and you couldn’t help but respond in kind.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady your racing hearts. Lando’s fingers played with a stray strand of your hair, his touch feather-light as he whispered, "Sorry if that was too straightforward. I just… I couldn’t help myself."

You giggled softly, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. "Lan, we both know we crossed the 'too straightforward' line already when you sent me that one text," you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

Lando’s cheeks flushed a deep red, his gaze dropping to the ground as he muttered, "Shut up."

But you weren’t about to let him get away that easily. Smiling, you tilted his chin up with your finger, forcing him to meet your gaze before leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. "Hey, I never said I was complaining" you murmured against his lips, your voice filled with affection.

Lando felt a surge of relief wash over him, his lips curling into a smile against yours. All the tension, all the nerves, seemed to melt away in that moment, replaced by a warmth that spread through his entire being. As you pulled back slightly, his eyes searched yours, finding only the same affection and desire that he felt reflected back at him.

"Now, let's get this stuff in the car and head back to my place. Because I think we both waited long enough now, don't you think?" you teased him, your fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺

As Lando and you finally settled into the car, the engine's quiet hum filled the space, a stark contrast to the roaring thoughts and desires that swirled between you. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, the kind that made every breath feel heavier, every glance more charged. The drive back to your place had never felt so excruciatingly long, and the unspoken understanding between you made the tension all the more palpable.

You both tried to keep the conversation light, casual even, but it was impossible to ignore the undercurrent of desire that crackled between you like static electricity. Lando gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly, his knuckles turning white as he navigated through the city streets. He stole glances at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking, his mind racing with thoughts of what would happen once you finally reached your apartment.

“So, did you miss me?” you teased, your voice playful yet laced with something deeper.

Lando chuckled, his voice strained as he responded. “Miss you?” He shot you a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Yeah, something like that.”

Your hand slowly inched its way over to his thigh, resting lightly at first, but enough to make him shift in his seat. You could feel the muscle tense beneath your fingers, his reaction immediate and telling. You didn’t miss the way his breath hitched, or the subtle clenching of his jaw as he tried to maintain his focus on the road.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and warning, though you could hear the underlying strain, the barely restrained desire.

“Nothing,” you replied innocently, your fingers beginning to trace small, teasing circles on his thigh, gradually moving closer to where you knew he was most sensitive. “Just… thinking.”

“Thinking?” Lando’s voice had dropped to a husky whisper, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried—and failed—to ignore the effect your touch was having on him. “About what, exactly?”

You leaned in closer, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered, “About how long this drive is taking. Don’t you think it’s… too long?”

Lando let out a low, frustrated groan, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before he forced them open again, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

You giggled softly, the sound filled with a mix of mischief and satisfaction. Your hand moved higher, your fingers brushing against the growing bulge in his pants, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him. He glanced over at you, his eyes darkening with lust, and you could see the tension in his expression, the way he was barely holding himself together.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked, your voice dripping with mock innocence, though the wicked glint in your eyes betrayed your intentions.

“Fuck…” Lando cursed under his breath, his hips involuntarily jerking forward at the contact. “You’re going to make me crash this car if you keep that up.”

But despite his words, he didn’t make any move to stop you. Instead, he shifted slightly in his seat, almost as if inviting you to continue. The knowledge that you had this kind of power over him, that you could unravel him with just a few touches, sent a thrill through you, your own arousal growing with each passing second.

As your hand pressed more firmly against him, Lando couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped his lips, low and guttural, filled with the kind of raw need that made your stomach tighten with anticipation. The sound of it, the way his body responded so helplessly to your touch, only fueled your desire, your own breath becoming shallow as you leaned in closer.

“I think you like this,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear as you spoke, your hand slowly, deliberately, palming him through his jeans. You could feel him hardening beneath your touch, and the thought of what was to come made your own body ache with need.

“Fuck, you’re right,” Lando admitted, his voice rough and strained. He let out another soft moan, his hips shifting again, seeking more of your touch despite his earlier protests. “But you’re also going to regret teasing me like this.”

“Is that a threat?” you teased, your hand now fully exploring the outline of his erection, your fingers pressing just hard enough to drive him crazy, but not enough to satisfy.

“Consider it a promise,” Lando growled, his voice thick with lust. The tension in the car was nearly unbearable now, every second feeling like an eternity as you continued to push him closer to the edge.

The rest of the drive was a torturous mix of heated touches and ragged breaths, the air thick with anticipation. Every kilometer that separated you from your apartment seemed to stretch on forever, amplifying the tension that crackled between you. Lando’s eyes flicked from the road to your hand on his bulge, watching as your fingers continued their slow, deliberate exploration. His breathing was uneven, the struggle to keep his focus on driving becoming increasingly difficult with each passing second.

You noticed how his grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles white, the strain evident in every line of his body. His jaw was clenched, his gaze forward, but you could see the way his eyes darkened, how his breath hitched every time your fingers palmed over the bulge straining against his jeans.

“You’re awfully quiet, Lando,” you teased, your voice low and sultry, your fingers tracing the outline of his erection with maddening slowness. “Cat got your tongue?”

Lando let out a shaky breath, his voice strained as he responded. “Trying to focus on not crashing the car, love,” he muttered, his words laced with a mixture of frustration and arousal. His eyes briefly met yours, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. “But you’re making that damn near impossible.”

You smiled, pleased with the effect you were having on him. Leaning in closer, your lips brushed against his ear as you whispered, “What would you do to me if we weren’t in this car right now?”

Lando’s breath hitched again, a soft groan escaping his lips as your words sent a surge of heat through him. He swallowed hard, his mind racing with images of all the things he wanted to do to you. “You really want to know?” he asked, his voice dropping to a low, husky tone that made your pulse quicken.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, your hand pressing more firmly against his erection, eliciting another groan from him. “Tell me, Lando. What would you do if you had me all to yourself right now?”

Lando’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his grip on the wheel tightening as he tried to maintain control. “I’d start by pinning you against the wall,” he began, his voice thick with desire. “I’d kiss you until you were breathless, until you couldn’t think straight. And then I’d strip you down, piece by piece, until there was nothing between us.”

His words sent a thrill through you, your body reacting instantly to the vivid images he painted with his voice. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, the ache of wanting him becoming almost unbearable. “And then?” you prompted, your voice breathy, urging him to continue.

Lando swallowed hard, his hips shifting slightly under your touch. “Then I’d lay you down, spread you out for me,” he continued, his voice growing darker, more intense. “I’d take my time, kiss every inch of you, taste you until you’re begging for more.”

A soft whimper escaped your lips at his words, the need inside you flaring hotter with every second. “Fuck, Lando,” you breathed, your hand moving up to cup him more fully, feeling the hardness beneath your fingers. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“You think you’re the only one?” Lando shot back, his voice rough with arousal. He let out another low groan as you began to palm him through his jeans, his hips lifting slightly into your touch, seeking more. “Keep that up and we won’t even make it to your apartment.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the way you were affecting him. “Maybe that’s the idea,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his neck, your breath warm against his skin. “Maybe I want to see how much you can take.”

Lando let out a soft, desperate moan, his control slipping further with every touch, every word. “You’re fucking evil, you know that?” he groaned, his head falling back against the headrest as he gave in to the pleasure, his body reacting instinctively to your teasing. “But god, I love it.”

The tension in the car was nearly unbearable now, the air thick with the scent of arousal and the promise of what was to come. Every brush of your fingers, every shift of your body sent waves of desire crashing over both of you, making it almost impossible to think clearly.

As you continued to tease him, your own body was alight with need, every fiber of your being aching for him. The sight of Lando struggling to keep his composure, the way he was completely at your mercy, only fueled your desire, your own breaths coming in short, shallow gasps as you pressed your lips to his neck, feeling his pulse racing beneath your touch.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lando pulled up to your apartment building, the car coming to a sudden, jerky stop as he practically slammed on the brakes. He turned to you, his eyes dark and filled with a mixture of frustration and desire. “Get out of the car,” he commanded, his voice rough and strained, leaving no room for argument.

You didn’t need to be told twice. The moment you stepped out, Lando was there, his hands gripping your waist as he pushed you back against the car, his lips crashing onto yours with a desperate, almost frantic intensity. The kiss was hot, urgent, filled with all the pent-up desire that had been building between you for so long. His hands roamed your body, sliding down to your hips as he pressed himself against you, letting you feel the full extent of his arousal.

“You have no idea what you’re in for,” Lando murmured against your lips, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you even closer as his lips moved to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you moan softly.

“Then show me,” you whispered back, your voice trembling with anticipation as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “I want to feel everything.”

Lando groaned at your words, his control slipping further as he kissed his way down your neck, his hands sliding under your shirt, exploring the soft skin of your back. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin as he nipped at your collarbone, making you gasp.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with lust, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Without another word, he grabbed your hand, practically dragging you toward the entrance of the building. The anticipation was palpable, every step closer to your apartment only adding to the tension between you.

The elevator ride up was a blur of heated touches and frantic kisses, Lando’s lips never leaving your skin as he pressed you against the wall, his hands roaming your body with a mix of urgency and reverence. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your neck, his voice rough and filled with raw need.

“Me too,” you breathed, your voice trembling with desire as your hands explored the planes of his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Lando.”

His lips found yours again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if savoring the taste of you. The kiss was deep, consuming, and you could feel every ounce of his passion, his longing, in the way his tongue danced with yours, the way his hands gripped you as if he was afraid you might slip away.

When the elevator finally dinged at your floor, Lando wasted no time, pulling you out and down the hall toward your apartment. His impatience was evident in the way he fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline and lust coursing through his veins.

“You’re driving me insane,” he muttered under his breath, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and arousal as he finally managed to unlock the door. The moment it swung open, he had you inside, slamming it shut behind him as he pressed you up against it, his lips crashing onto yours once again.

The kiss was even more intense this time, fueled by the knowledge that there were no more interruptions, no more delays. This was it. You were finally alone, and nothing was going to stop what came next.

His hands were everywhere, sliding under your shirt, up your back, down to your thighs, as if he couldn’t decide where to touch you first. Every brush of his fingers against your skin sent jolts of pleasure through you, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, the anticipation becoming almost unbearable.

Lando’s lips left yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jawline to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you shiver. “I’m going to make you pay for teasing me like that,” he whispered against your neck, his voice a low, seductive growl that made your heart race.

“I’m counting on it,” you replied breathlessly, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you pulled him even closer, your body aching with need.

And with that, any remaining restraint between you shattered, the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface finally boiling over as Lando’s hands and lips claimed every inch of you, leaving you both lost in the heat of the moment, eager to make up for all the time you had spent longing for each other.

When his lips left yours again, you barely had time to catch your breath before they were on your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline. His hands continued their slow exploration, moving higher until they reached the curve of your breasts, his thumbs brushing teasingly over your hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

A soft moan escaped your lips at the contact, your back arching slightly as you pressed into his touch. Lando’s breath was hot against your skin as he nipped at your collarbone, his hands moving to unhook your bra with practiced ease. The garment fell away, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze.

“You have no idea how much I want this,” Lando murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with a mix of reverence and desire. His hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples as he captured your lips in another searing kiss.

“Then stop teasing,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with anticipation as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “I want you, Lando.”

Lando groaned softly at your words, his resolve crumbling as his hands began to roam lower, sliding down your stomach to the waistband of your jeans. He unbuttoned them slowly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he tugged the fabric down your hips, leaving you in just your panties.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of you standing before him, half-naked and completely vulnerable. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe as his hands traced the curve of your hips, his thumbs brushing against the delicate lace of your panties.

Without another word, Lando’s hands moved to your thighs, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate paths along your skin, causing shivers to run down your spine. He stood in front of you, his eyes locked onto yours as his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs with agonizing slowness.

The cool air against your exposed skin only heightened your sensitivity, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. Lando’s hands moved back up your thighs, his touch firm yet gentle as he spread your legs wider. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to an exposed bit of skin, just behind your ear, before his fingers began their slow, torturous journey closer to your core.

Your breath hitched, your body trembling with need as his fingers hovered just above where you wanted them most. He teased you, his fingertips brushing lightly against your sensitive skin, drawing out soft whimpers from your lips. The tension in your body grew unbearable as Lando finally let his fingers slide through your wetness, his touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

He began to move his fingers with expert precision, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your reactions, each moan, each gasp fueling his desire. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles as his fingers delved deeper, the sensation building with every stroke. You could feel the pressure mounting, your body arching into his touch as you teetered on the edge of release.

But just as you were about to fall over the precipice, Lando’s movements slowed, his fingers pulling back, leaving you hanging in that unbearable space between pleasure and release. A frustrated whimper escaped your lips as you looked up at him, your body aching with the need for more.

But Lando only smirked up at you, his eyes filled with a mischievous glint. “That’s for teasing me in the car,” he teased, his voice low and filled with satisfaction as he slowly rose to his feet, his hands resting on your hips as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

“You’re an asshole,” you whispered against his lips, your voice filled with a mix of frustration and determination as you reached for his shirt, unbuttoning it with trembling fingers. You pushed the fabric off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor before your hands moved to the waistband of his jeans.

But before you could undo the button, Lando’s hands were on you again, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you to the kitchen counter. He placed you on the cool surface, his hands sliding up your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs.

His lips were on yours again, hot and demanding, as his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if trying to memorize the feel of you. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with lust, his breathing heavy as he knelt down between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread you open before him.

The anticipation was almost unbearable as you watched him, his gaze locked on yours as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your most sensitive spot. The first stroke of his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your hands flying to his hair as you arched into him, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

Lando’s tongue moved with precision, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge, the pleasure building with every second. You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, your body trembling with the need for release as he continued to pleasure you with slow, deliberate movements.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, just when you were about to tip over the edge, once again, Lando pulled back, leaving you gasping for breath, your body aching with the need for more.

“Lando!” you cried out, your voice filled with frustration as you looked down at him, your chest heaving with the effort to catch your breath.

Lando only chuckled, a smug smile playing on his lips as he slowly rose to his feet, his hands resting on your hips as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “I told you I would make you regret teasing me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with satisfaction as he nipped at your lower lip.

“You're lucky you're hot” you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and determination as you reached for his jeans, unbuttoning them with your fingers. You pushed the fabric down his hips, letting it fall to the floor as you slid off the counter, your hands moving to his hips, guiding him against the kitchen counter, sinking to your knees.

Lando’s breath hitched as you knelt before him, your fingers teasing the waistband of his boxers as you looked up at him, a wicked glint in your eyes. “Is this what you want?” you asked, your voice low and sultry as your fingers brushed against his erection, the contact sending a shiver of pleasure through him.

“Please,” Lando groaned, his hands clutching at the counter behind him as he watched you, his eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and lust. “Don’t tease me.”

But you weren’t done with him yet. You wanted to make him feel the same frustration, the same desperation that he had made you feel. Slowly, deliberately, you began to kiss your way up his thigh, your lips brushing against his skin in a way that made his breath catch in his throat.

"You look so good, Lan. You make me so wet.” you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with a mix of challenge and desire as your fingers teased him, brushing against his erection but never quite touching him where he needed it most.

Lando’s hips jerked forward, a soft moan escaping his lips as he clutched at the counter, his control slipping further with every touch, every kiss. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough and strained. “You’re killing me.”

You smiled up at him, your hands finally sliding up to his boxers, pulling them down to free his aching length. The sight of him, hard and ready for you, sent a thrill of anticipation through you, your own arousal heightening as you took him in your hand, feeling the warmth and hardness of him against your palm.

Lando’s breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut as you began to stroke him slowly, your movements deliberate and teasing. Your thumb brushed over the sensitive tip, gathering the bead of moisture there before sliding back down his length. His hips bucked slightly into your hand, a low groan escaping his lips as he watched you through half-lidded eyes, his gaze dark with lust.

“F-Fuck, that feels so good,” he muttered, his voice rough and thick with need. His hands gripped the counter behind him, knuckles white as he tried to maintain some semblance of control. But you could see the tension in his muscles, the way his body responded to every touch, every twist of your wrist.

You increased the pace slightly, your strokes becoming firmer, more purposeful as you worked him with your hand. Lando’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to keep his composure. “You like that?” you whispered, your voice sultry, dripping with seduction as you watched him with hooded eyes.

“God, yes,” Lando groaned, his head falling back as another moan slipped from his lips. “So fucking good.”

You smirked, your confidence growing with every sound of pleasure that escaped him. You changed your technique, your grip tightening slightly as you twisted your wrist at the top, your thumb rubbing over the sensitive underside of his tip in a way that made his hips jerk forward, his breath catching in his throat.

“Is this what you’ve been fantasizing about?” you asked, your voice low and teasing as you leaned in closer, your breath hot against his skin. “Thinking about me, touching you like this?”

Lando let out a shaky breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he struggled to find the words. “Yes,” he managed to choke out, his voice strained with the effort to hold back. “Every night. Fuck, you have no idea.”

You smiled, satisfied with his response as you continued to stroke him, your movements becoming a little faster, a little more intense. You could feel him throbbing in your hand, his body trembling with the need for release. “Do you want more, Lando?” you whispered, your lips brushing against the base of his length as you spoke, sending a shiver through him. “Do you want my mouth on you?”

Lando’s eyes flew open, the raw need in them making your own arousal spike. “Please,” he groaned, his voice a desperate plea. “I need it. I need you.”

His words sent a jolt of excitement through you, and without breaking eye contact, you slowly lowered your head, your lips parting as you took him into your mouth. The sensation of his hard length filling you, the taste of him on your tongue, was intoxicating, and you let out a soft moan as you began to move, your mouth working him with the same deliberate, teasing pace you had used with your hand.

Lando’s reaction was immediate, his hands flying to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he tried to maintain control. “Fuck,” he hissed, his hips bucking involuntarily as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

Encouraged by his praise, you began to move faster, your tongue swirling around him, flicking against the sensitive underside as you bobbed your head, taking him in as deep as you could. You could feel the tension in his thighs, the way his muscles tightened and quivered under your touch, his body responding to every flick of your tongue, every suction of your lips.

You placed your hands on the back of his thighs, your fingers digging into his flesh as you pulled him closer, encouraging him to let go, to give in to the pleasure. “Is this what you wanted?” you asked, pulling back just enough to speak, your voice breathy and filled with desire. “Is this what you’ve been dreaming about?”

“Yes,” Lando groaned, his voice strained as he fought to keep control. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

His words only spurred you on, and you resumed your pace, your mouth working him with more intensity, more urgency as you brought him closer to the edge. His breathing grew ragged, his moans becoming more frequent, more desperate as he hovered on the brink of release.

But just as you felt him start to tense, his body trembling with the need for release, you pulled back, letting him slip from your mouth with a teasing smile. Lando let out a frustrated groan, his head falling back as his hands tightened in your hair, the sensation of being so close yet denied driving him to the brink of madness.

“Fuck,” Lando breathed out, his voice laced with desperation. His eyes were half-lidded, darkened with lust as he looked down at you, still kneeling before him, that wicked glint in your eyes. “Why did you stop?”

“Two can play that game,” you whispered, your voice filled with playful challenge as you looked up at him, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his thigh. “How does it feel, Lando? To be so close and yet so far?”

Lando’s breath was ragged, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and raw need. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his voice rough with desperation, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment that he was enjoying this, even if it was driving him crazy.

Lando let out a shaky breath, his hands moving to your waist as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a brief, heated kiss. “Fucking hell, you have no idea what you do to me” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with need, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed you back against the counter.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the heat in his voice, the raw intensity of his words sending a surge of desire straight to your core. Lando’s lips met yours again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if he was savoring every second. His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you slightly so he could press you even closer against the counter, his body flush against yours. You responded eagerly, your hands threading through his hair, tugging lightly as you deepened the kiss, your tongue teasingly flicking against his.

You could feel the tension building between you, the need to be even closer, but you couldn’t resist playing with him just a little more. You nipped at his lower lip, pulling back slightly to murmur against his mouth, “You’re holding back, Lando. What’s wrong? Afraid you can’t handle a little teasing?”

Your words drew a low, frustrated growl from him, his eyes darkening with desire as he looked at you, the playful spark in your gaze only spurring him on. “Oh, I can handle it,” he replied, his voice a rough whisper, full of promise. And with that, he closed the distance between you in an instant, his hands grabbing you by the waist as he lifted you off the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you towards the bedroom.

Your laughter echoed through the kitchen as Lando carried you towards the bedroom, his grip on you firm, yet gentle, as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. The intensity in his eyes sent a thrill through you, your heart racing as you felt the cool air on your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

He pushed the bedroom door open with his foot, and before you knew it, you were on the bed, Lando hovering above you, his hands framing your face as he stared down at you with a mixture of love and raw need. The look in his eyes made your breath catch, the reality of the moment crashing over you. This was real. This was happening.

Lando’s lips found yours again, the kiss slower this time, more deliberate, as if he was savoring every second, every taste of you. His hands roamed your body, sliding down your sides, over your hips, before coming to rest on your thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them.

But just as Lando was about to move lower, his lips brushing against the curve of your breast, he paused, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice soft, but carrying a depth of sincerity that made your heart swell.

“I’m sure, Lando,” you whispered, your voice filled with certainty and affection. “I want this. I want you.”

Lando’s eyes searched yours for a moment longer, as if making absolutely certain, before he spoke again, his tone gentle but serious. “I just want to make sure you don’t feel pressured into anything. This… this means a lot to me. It’s more than just sex for me.”

Your heart melted at his words, the care and concern in his voice making you fall even more for him. You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin as you smiled up at him. “I don’t feel pressured at all. I want this just as much as you do, Lando. It means a lot to me too.”

Relief washed over his features, his eyes softening as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips, filled with all the emotion he couldn’t quite put into words. “Thank you,” he whispered against your lips, his hands gently caressing your sides as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing warmly against yours.

With that final confirmation, the last of his restraint melted away. The kiss grew more intense, more passionate, as Lando’s hands roamed your body with a newfound purpose, exploring every inch of you with reverence and need. His lips moved down your neck, to your chest, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses that made you shiver with anticipation.

You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, the evidence of his desire only fueling your own. Your hands roamed his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way his body responded to your touch. The heat between you was almost unbearable now, the need for him becoming overwhelming as his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you moan softly.

“Please, Lando,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation as you arched into him, your body aching with the need for release. “I need you.”

Lando let out a low groan at your words, his hands sliding down to your hips as he positioned himself between your legs. He paused for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours as he whispered, “I want to make this perfect for you.”

“It already is,” you whispered back, your voice filled with affection as you cupped his face, pulling him into a soft, lingering kiss. “Just make love to me, Lando.”

With a soft, almost reverent sigh, Lando pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he slowly, gently, entered you. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and emotion that made you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he filled you completely.

Lando let out a shaky breath, his body trembling slightly as he stilled for a moment, letting you both adjust to the new, intimate connection. The feeling of him inside you, of being so close, so connected, was almost too much to bear, the intensity of it sending waves of pleasure and emotion crashing over you.

He began to move slowly, his thrusts gentle and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he made love to you with a tenderness that took your breath away. Every movement, every touch was filled with love, with a depth of emotion that made your heart swell with affection for him.

You could feel the tension building again, the pleasure mounting with every thrust, every brush of his skin against yours. Lando’s hands roamed your body, his lips pressing soft kisses to your neck, your collarbone, as he whispered sweet, breathless praises in your ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with love and desire. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“Lando,” you gasped, your voice trembling with emotion as you clutched at him, your body moving in sync with his. “I love you.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, the raw truth of your feelings finally breaking free. Lando’s eyes widened in surprise, his movements slowing for a moment as he stared down at you, his breath catching in his throat.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and affection as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips. The words hung in the air between you, a promise, a declaration that made your heart swell with happiness.

With those words still echoing in the air, Lando’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate as the pleasure built to a fever pitch. You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension coiling tighter in your belly as you held onto him, your body trembling with the need for release.

Lando’s breath was hot against your ear, his voice rough and filled with desperation as he whispered, “Come for me, love. I want to feel you.”

His words, the way he moved inside you with such passion and tenderness, was enough to send you over the edge. Your body tensed, your back arching off the bed as the wave of pleasure crashed over you, your breathless moans filling the room as you came undone in his arms.

The sensation of you tightening around him, the way you cried out his name in pure ecstasy, was enough to push Lando over the edge with you. With a few more deep, urgent thrusts, he followed you into bliss, his body trembling as he found his release, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sound in the room the heavy breathing of two people who had just found something they had both been longing for. Lando collapsed on top of you, his weight comforting as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

You held him close, your fingers running through his hair as you both came down from the high, your bodies still entwined, the connection between you stronger than ever.

“I love you,” Lando whispered again, his voice soft and filled with affection as he pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

“I love you too,” you murmured back, your heart swelling with happiness as you held him close, your eyes fluttering shut as you savored the warmth of his body against yours, the contentment that filled you both as you lay there, basking in the afterglow of the most intense, passionate, and loving moment you had ever shared.

Masterlist | Promptlist (requests are still open)

[cherry-coffees]

Bento Love <3

cw: 1.2K words | wife!Caitlyn, post-s2 act3, no warnings, making Caitlyn bento boxes bc she works so hard, domestic fluff

Caitlyn is having a brutally difficult day.

Between a long council meeting in which she had to break up several arguments, reading many letters from overseas, and planning for the upcoming Progress Day, she's exhausted. All Caitlyn can think about is getting home to you, to your warm embrace, and the day isn't even over with yet.

"Commander Kiramman?" a soft knock sounds from her office door, her assistant's voice breaking her train of thought. "I've had to move your meeting with the Noxian representative to an hour later."

Caitlyn exhales, resting her head in the palm of her head as she leans her elbow on her desks. She rubs her temples: a result of all the stress of the day. "Okay. Do I have anything for the next hour, then?"

"No," the assistant continues from the other side of the door before she pauses. "There's also been a delivery for you."

Caitlyn's eyebrows furrow as she straightens up in her office chair. She hadn't ordered anything to be delivered today. "What is it?"

The door finally opens as her assistant steps into the room, a small, pink box and a matching bottle in her hands. She sets them down on the wooden desk in front of Caitlyn before shooting her a small smile. "I'm under instruction not to tell you," she claims before making her way out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Caitlyn's left staring after her blankly. "Not to tell me...?" she mutters, repeating her assistant's words in total confusion. Who could have even instructed her? She glances down at the small, pink box when she notices the pink ribbon wrapped around it. Namely, the ribbon you like to tie in your hair whenever the two of you go out. 

Caitlyn's face breaks into a small smile, gently untying the delicate ribbon. It's clearly some sort of gift from you – though she doesn't quite understand why you wouldn't have told her that you were sending her something. She moves to lift the lid from the box, and her breath catches.

It's a small bento box with four compartments: one larger one and three smaller ones. The larger compartment contains slices of chicken katsu sitting on a bed of white rice, sesame seeds sprinkled on top. The smaller compartments contain a small caesar salad, strawberry slices cut into hearts, and a mini lemon-blueberry tart. 

The box is complete with a napkin, mini utensils, and cute toothpicks adorning the food. Caitlyn smiles at the cute cat toothpicks: the ones that you always say reminds you of her. She twists the cap of the bottle off to reveal the contents of a steaming, jasmine tea – her favorite.

Caitlyn's eyes are wide, her lips parting in surprise as she gazes at the perfectly prepared meal. It's so lovely – so cute, and warm, and filled with the obvious love you have for her. She traces her fingers over the folded napkin before she notices the small note taped to the underside of the lid. She gently peels the tape off, holding the note up to see the words written on it.

You work so hard, Cait. Take breaks and eat well, okay? I love you so much, and I can't wait to see you tonight.

Caitlyn bites her bottom lip to stifle her fond smile at your words. She can practically feel her heart swell within her chest, already longing to wrap her arms around you. For now, all she can do is begin to eat the bento: savoring the way the food feels like a perfectly-packaged hug from you. 

For the rest of the day, her head swims with thoughts of you. Caitlyn's shoulders feel remarkably lighter, and the seconds tick by faster and faster. That is, until she's headed home to you: time seeming to drag on forever as she rushes away from work to see you.  

Meanwhile, you're humming away in the kitchen of the Kiramman Manor, already planning what you'll make for her tomorrow. You quite liked making the bento box, knowing that your beloved wife often forgets to eat when she has busy days. While her priorities are often swamped with those of Piltover, you ensure that her well-being is one of yours. 

You're staring at the fridge, mentally planning ideas for tomorrow in your head, when you feel a pair of arms wrap around you. You jump slightly before your lips tug into a beaming smile, feeling Caitlyn embrace you from behind. "I don't know how you sneak up on me so well," you lean your head back to rest against her shoulder. 

Caitlyn chooses to ignore that comment in favor of pressing a kiss to your temple. "You didn't have to do that for me," she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin.

"I wanted to," you sigh. "Someone has to take care of you, you know. You work too hard."

Caitlyn lightly sways you both from side to side as you turn around to face her. Her hand comes up to cradle your jaw, her thumb running over your cheek. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Exist," you half-joke, but there's a note of truth to it. No one can deny your obvious adoration for her. "You need to eat and sleep and take breaks sometimes. I know it's hard for you to stop working, so just... let me help you with that."

Caitlyn takes a shaky breath. Because you're right: she does neglect her well being for the good of the city more often than she'd like to admit. When she looks down at you, seeing your wide, adoring eyes gazing up at her, she can't believe she has you. Her entire world, and it's nestled in her arms.

She can't help but lean down to press a soft, sound kiss to your lips. A single kiss that turns into two, three, four – she can't help it. Gentle pecks turn into hot, open-mouthed kisses, and she's not even quite sure when exactly she slips her tongue into your mouth and when you whine against her lips. Caitlyn is incredibly skilled with her self-control, but around you, it's like all of it is lost to the wind.

Gods, does she love you. 

The bentos continue after that: packed, warm meals that Caitlyn looks forward to on rainy days and stressful weeks. Whether they're filled with steaming udon, grilled cheese paired with tomato soup, a mini quiche cooked just how she likes it, or her favorite fancy dark chocolate truffles – she's obsessed with them. Caitlyn's never been one for cutesy things, but when you attach your notes all tied with a ribbon, she's grateful that you're fond of them. Your words hold her over until she can get back to you.

And when you're back together a few hours later, holding each other close within  Caitlyn's silk sheets, she lifts your left hand to gaze at the diamond ring that rests on your finger. Touches it with her own wedding band, too. There's no one, Caitlyn thinks, that she'd rather be with for the rest of eternity. Bentos or no bentos.  

Oh, to be Caitlyn Kiramman's housewife.

I've never had a cute bento and I was SO jealous of all the kids in elementary and middle school who got them. Trust, I have so many ideas for ones I could make for my future wife. And for myself :)

~Cherry 🍒