#i walk into the room and the machine makes it clear that it does NOT fuck with me

[butchlifeguard]

i dont wanna decide on a career unfortunately everyone wants me to soso bad

[randombush3]

recuérdame

alexia putellas x reader

summary: you wake up but you're not sure where

words: 1185 (treat this like a prologue ok x)

notes: i hope this actually takes off as a new series so i'm posting it now while i think about what comes next xx

There’s something groggy about the darkness in your mind. It’s not an eyes-closed kind of black; not a piece of white paper doused in ink. 

It’s thick like smog. Grainy. 

And all of a sudden, you are awake. 

There’s an incessant pounding in your mind that is sharp and rhythmic. The lights are too harsh, too much. The bed is hard under your heavy bones. 

You blink and even that small movement is strange, harder than it should be. 

The ceiling is peppered with small, grey dots. It’s terribly ugly, but your eyes cling to it as you try to shake off the haze. 

Slowly, the rest of the room comes into focus: sterile whites, beeping machines, tubes splaying out across what must be your body but feels like deadweight. The steady noise draws your attention after a moment, the sound seeming to echo inside your head. You turn, neck stiff and crunching, to catch a glimpse of a monitor, green lines spiking across its screen. 

The tubes aren’t just on top of you. They must be inside you. 

Something twists in your stomach. 

“You’re… awake.” 

…

No one really knows what to say to Alexia when she receives the call. 

Training is running over, the sun is beginning to set, and the girls are getting restless. The drill is nothing special, and the boredom it brings infects their captain, too, despite her valiant attempts at maturity. 

Alexia wants to get home, tonight of all nights. 

Five days ago, a work trip left her alone with a daughter that isn’t quite hers. There has been an other-mother shaped hole in the family ever since. Madrid continues to be evil. Her Catalan pride is vindicated once more. 

So when Pere blows his whistle, she all but sprints into the changing room (much to her coach’s dismay, since training ended because he assumed no one could run at that speed anymore), image of picture-perfect leadership be damned. 

Her shower is fast, clothes are shoved on even faster, and she is just about to walk through the automatic exit doors when her phone rings. 

A location update, she assumes. Or a complaint from an impatient tweenager (god, they seem to be fountains of those). 

It’s to her horror that she is incorrect. 

The nurse on the other line is eerily calm, but does not waste time beating around the bush. Her instructions are clear: come to the hospital now. 

“I think my fiancée has just died,” Alexia tells no one in particular. 

The team isn't sure whether or not she is joking. 

That was a week ago, and now she is here, in the hospital. Her bum is accustomed to the hard plastic chairs, her schedule skewed until the doctors finally wake you up from a medically induced coma. Amaia, her stepdaughter, is at her friend’s house, the boy’s mother insisting she care for her while Alexia makes a rather practical visit to the hospital. 

Alexia’s hands shake as she brings them to her face, rubbing her temples. The past week has been wrapped around her like a noose, suffocating and taut. She’s holding herself together but she is doing an uncharacteristically catastrophic job at it. Her mind is still tangled up in the phone call she’d received – and the many others she’d had to make after the nurse had hung up. Although there has been a swarm of activity (flights landing, taxis to the hospital, meals arriving at her front door with well-meaning notes attached), life has felt still. Stagnant. 

She is stuck in something she doesn’t know how to deal with. 

She closes her eyes for a second and inhales with as much steadiness as she can muster, letting the beeping of your monitor anchor her back to the present. It’s a strange sound to feel grateful for, each pulse a reminder that you are still here. With her. 

They have been gradually reducing the sedatives administered to you, making the answer to her question always ‘she will wake up when she wakes up’. The twitches in your finger have grown old now, and she is becoming very impatient. 

“If you wanted a holiday, we could’ve taken time off,” she tells you with a forced chuckle. “You didn’t need to get yourself into a…” 

You shift slightly in the bed. Alexia’s eyes snap open, her body surging upwards in hope. 

“Come on…” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Please…”

Your eyelids flutter, hesitant, like they’re testing the weight of the world behind them. She hopes: at least it’s something. 

And it could be more, surely? It should be any minute now, according to the doctors. The wait will be over and she can get you back.

It’s been fifteen days since Alexia saw the eyes she fell in love with. 

Words fall out of her mouth but she barely registers them, staring at you listlessly, unprepared for this moment. She had thought about it, of course, imagining how to go about updating you on what you’ve missed: how Amaia’s match yesterday ended in a draw; how her own was a sizable but unsatisfying win. 

She wants to say things she should say more. Reminders, confessions. She wants to let out the anger that you did this to her; that you left, that you didn’t come back. And how she wants to hold you, kiss you, love you even more.

But the first thing Alexia notices behind bleary eyes is terror. Confusion. And, what she had told herself would not happen: a lack of recognition. 

I’m in a hospital, you think, but I don’t know who is here with me. 

The moment stretches on, thin and frail, and Alexia feels the tautness in her stomach like a rope holding dead weight over a cliff. Her heart – bruised, aching, impatient – is pierced by the way you look at her with poorly-masked indifference. 

“Hi,” she tries, waiting for you to come back fully, wanting to skip the part where it hurts so much. Her hand reaches out, hovering above your own, fingers aching to touch you, but she holds back. “Do you know where we are?” 

She should really call the nurse in, but she can’t quite bring herself to disrupt this. 

Your eyes flicker, glancing at the tubes and machines. The mattress hasn’t gotten any softer, nor your body any lighter. “Hospital,” you whisper, throat scratchy and hoarse. The word appears in your mind as almost foreign, coming from somewhere deeper than the blankness of the surface. Then your gaze drifts back to her, the hopeful woman at your bedside, brows furrowing as you struggle to place her into a life you can’t quite recall. Not that you’ve tried; you’ve got a screaming headache. 

The question on your lips twists Alexia’s insides. She anticipates it, with an instinctiveness that almost frustrates you. “I’m Alexia,” she says. She doesn’t sound sure. 

You stare through her and the distance clutches at her neck. Her nightmare lands, cold and final. 

“I’m… sorry. I don’t,” and like how she knows the question, she is well aware of the end of that sentence. 

[hurtspideyparker]

The team learns about Peter's stress baking fairly quickly after he moves into the tower.

"Why does this place smell like cookies?" Tony asks suspiciously, "Pepper put an end to homemade care packages after that Cap incident."

Steve protests from the dining table. "Hey, that fan seemed totally normal. Y'know in my generation you do not mess with baked goods, that's sacred."

Natasha pats his back comfortingly as she joins the conversation.

"They came from the kid. They're actually pretty good, here."

Nat hands a still-warm cookie to Tony, who bites it curiously.

"Damn, it melts in my mouth like buttery ambrosia and still has a perfect crunch around the edges. Is that a nutty aftertaste?"

"Yes!" Peter yells from the other room, a clatter sounding before his head pokes around the wall, oven mitts still attached to his hands.

"I brown the butter, it really deepens the flavour!"

"Good on you kid. What's the occasion?"

Peter stutters, "uhhhh, no occasion. I just like cookies!"

He disappears around the corner again, and Tony sends a confused glance towards his teammates.

Steve shrugs his shoulders, mouth still full of cookie, and Natasha sends him an arched brow. Tony isn't sure what that means, but feels intimidated enough to exit the room anyway.

* * *

The baking lasts the rest of the week, until Peter comes home yelling, "I aced my calculus midterm!!!" running out of the elevator with a stapled set of papers in his hand.

"So no more baking?" Nat asks neutrally.

"Nope! Woohoo!"

Just like that the kid is gone, jumping down the hall towards his bedroom.

Tony looks at Nat quizzically.

"It was midterm week. He baked 3 dozen cookies, 2 types of muffins, and a cheesecake."

"So he stress bakes?"

"He stress bakes."

* * *

It becomes a "thing" in the tower.

Sam eats toast from freshly baked bread one morning while watching Bruce quiz Peter on his upcoming AP history test. Each slice is cut, toasted, and buttered to perfection by Peter while he explains sectionalism in the 20th century.

* * *

Bucky grates carrots while Peter mixes a bowl of dry ingredients furiously, the boy mumbling to himself non-stop.

"Has he gone insane?" Clint asks from the doorway.

"Spanish oral exam," Bucky replies.

"Ay caramba."

"Tal vez pueda sobornar a mi maestra con glaseado de queso crema..." Peter starts mumbling. (Maybe I can bribe my teacher with cream cheese frosting...)

Bucky and Clint share a concerned look.

Clint approaches the boy, "put down the spatula Pete, let's talk about this."

Peter looks up in alarm.

"In English! Just English!"

* * *

"What's up kid? It's spring break, what could you possibly be stressing about."

Today Tony walks into a full kitchen; Wanda, Natasha, and Pepper are occupying the space while Peter pours something creamy into a metal bowl.

"He's asking MJ out tonight, so he's making cookies and cream ice cream in case it goes wrong." Natasha crosses her arms when she replies to him, eyes focused on Peter's mixing.

"Does ice cream even count as stress baking? The very meaning of 'bake' is to put under heat. But I suppose it does feel wrong to call it cooking."

Peter looks up, his brown eyes large and sad like a baby cow, "I still baked the cookies from scratch."

"Yeah he's a real Nara Smith!" Wanda adds enthusiastically.

"Oookay... I'll pretend I know what that means. And since when do we have an ice cream maker?" Tony points to the fancy hardware out on the kitchen counter.

"Oh, I got that for him. We lacked a lot of the tools for basic baking recipes," Pepper informs him.

Tony ponders how ice cream machines count as a basic baking tool, and decides not to argue with three powerful women and their favourite lovesick teenager.

Peter picks up his bowl and moves it into the freezer, clearing away a couple frozen pizzas and a bag of peas.

"Should I even bother with the cones?" Peter asks with a pout.

"Pete she's gonna say yes! Also if you're wallowing in misery with a tub of ice cream we still want our cones so we can emotionally support you with a crunchy treat," Wanda says with a supportive smile.

The others nod along.

"You're right!" Peter agrees before turning around and grabbing an honest-to-god waffle cone maker, with the cone shaping kit to boot.

"Why..." Tony begins to protest, "y'know what, I don't care. Let me know how it goes kid."

The man is ignored as he moves through the kitchen to grab a banana, the women coaching Peter on his manners, flirting, and first date ideas as he exits the room.

* * *

Thor hums around the delicious treat.

"Mmm. You know young Peter, you could have a shop for your creations. Is there a Stark Industries for baked goods?" Thor asks the young lad, crumbs falling from his mouth as he chews the cookie bar.

"I didn't invent the blondie Thor. I was just trying to explain what it is, a cookie brownie! I did decorate them all by myself though," he says with a satisfied grin.

"Ah yes," Thor lifts up another blondie by the pretzel stick Peter put in the squares, attached with a bit of melted chocolate so they're shaped like Mjolnir, "now you are all worthy of the hammer. Ha! This is funny, I'm sure the others will find your talents equally amusing."

Peter picks up his own mini-Mjolnjr and waves it around, "it is I, son of Odin. Don't worry puny Midgardians, I will protect you with my mighty hammer and beautiful hair!"

Thor laughs thunderously at the impression, clapping.

Bruce walks into the room, enticed by the laughter.

"Ah! My friend, Peter has made edible Mjolnirs so you, too, may be worthy. It's delicious and hilarious. Imagine Banner wielding my hammer, ha! Ridiculous," Thor is all too amused by the situation.

Bruce gives Peter an offended look as Thor continues laughing with himself, the younger just shrugging. Bruce takes one of the treats anyways, pointedly not holding it by the pretzel stick.

"Y'know Pete, have you ever considered opening a bakery? You are quite talented. I think the Avengers alone would keep you in business," Bruce asks politely.

"Well I only like to bake when I'm stressed. That wouldn't be a very stable business model," Peter points out.

"True. Although running a business can be quite stressful, so maybe you'd have a continuous supply?"

"Hm. Efficient and unhealthy," Peter nods like it's the perfect plan.

"Wow you really are Stark's intern."

Thor bursts out into another bout of raucous laughter.

"Imagine Stark wielding my dessert hammer," Thor barely gets the words out, "Stark being worthy-AH HAHA."

Bruce and Peter share a look of wide-eyed alarm before joining in on the laughter.

They all share the moment before Bruce straightens up a bit to ask, "what are you even worried about anyways Peter?"

Peter wipes a tear from his eye, "I forgot to call Aunt May this morning like I always do and she only let me move here if I promised I wouldn't neglect her. So now I'm too scared to check my phone."

"I see," Bruce sympathizes.

"Yeah, baking is good for procrastinating. I pretend I'm being productive while also creating comfort food for after my breakdowns."

* * *

Tony steps into the dining room one afternoon to find Peter slicing apples while Steve sits across from him cutting intricate patterns into pie crust. There is an array of leaves and flowers set out on the flour-sprinkled table.

"So is the ornamentation necessary, or is Cap also developing a delicious self-soothing habit," Tony inquires.

"I was just talking to Peter about pie recipes from the 40s and he asked if I could help make his prettier," Steve smiles up at his companions, "it's actually a lot of fun, I can't say I've ever used food to make art before."

"He's a natural talent Mr. Stark!"

Tony agrees with the quirk of an eyebrow and cheeky sideways nod. He observes for a moment before asking something that's been bothering him recently.

"Pete, I gotta ask. Why baking? You inherited your Aunt's terrible cooking skills, and it's not like you're built for other domestic duties. Your room is a mess. What gives? How are you so... refined?"

Peter pauses his chopping to look up incredulously.

"It's science Mr. Stark. Baking is just chemistry! I'm great at chemistry," he says with a grin.

Tony thinks about it.

"Huh. I guess you're right. So, what has you stressed this time? Girl troubles? You get too good a grade in P.E. and Flash is suspicious? Decathlon competition?" Tony lists off some of his previous turmoils.

He hopes it's the decathalon again, those butter tarts were divine.

"Um. Can I finish my apple filling before I tell you? I'll lose motivation if you start yelling at me..." Peter says with a hopeful smile, strain lying underneath it.

Tony's eyes narrow.

"Okay so I maybe blew up your test tubes when trying to develop fire webs and Dum-E may have covered your entire lab in fire supression foam."

Tony's jaw clenches, "I'm gonna let you stew in fear for a bit longer because apple is my favourite - if this was pumpkin you'd already be squashed - but best believe I'm not done with you yet." Tony slowly takes a deep breath before pointing a finger at Peter. "Never change kid, never change."

Tony leaves, distinctly in the opposite direction of his lab, and Peter goes back to slicing apples, now with a genuine smile on his face.

[zablife]

Save me Darlin'

Benny Cross x female reader

Benny Cross Masterlist

A/N: Bc this seemed to be a fave line from my headcanons about Benny, it gets its own imagine. "Did you pray for me every night like a good girl? On your hands and knees? Let me see."

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, blow job, corruption

"Fix your damn jacket," Johnny grumbled, turning to give Benny a scowl as the young man flicked his cigarette butt onto your father's perfectly manicured lawn.

"Jesus Christ we're trying to get these people to change their mind about us," Johnny huffed, climbing the steps to greet your father with a firm handshake.

Benny ducked his head to hide the smirk on his lips as he mumbled under his breath, "Well they really ain't gonna trust us now." Johnny was an unknowing accomplice in his plan to get close to you, a diversion to gain access to the prettiest little thing he'd ever seen.

Normally he wouldn't need to meet anyone's daddy, let alone pretend to care what they thought about him, but you were different. A carefully guarded princess in a tower, he might never have known you existed if Betty hadn’t dragged him to that church picnic last month.

Sometimes he wondered if he might be better off never to have met you though. As it was, most nights he lay awake replaying every minute you'd spent together, jerking off to the memories he’d carefully stored. Your innocent doe eyes staring up at him as you passed him a glass of lemonade, biting your lip just so. Or the way you absently twirled your necklace between delicate fingertips, running the tiny gold cross over your tongue before dropping it into the front of your sundress. And, God, the way your chest rose and fell as he showed you his motorcycle, soft voice promising so earnestly, "I'll pray for ya every night, Benny."

You entered his mind at the most inopportune times, stealing his concentration. He was a man obsessed, in need of one more glimpse of you. Even at this very moment as your father stared at him with disapproval, he knew he'd risk everything to make that a reality. If only he could get out of this living room and find you.

"I asked you a question, son," your father's voice boomed suddenly, pulling Benny from his scheming.

Blinking helplessly, Benny looked to Johnny who came to his aid. "Few odd jobs, nothing regular, but he ain't been here long."

Your father pursed his lips as he replied, "Spose that's why you have so much free time to ride those death machines."

"They're safer than they look," Johnny assured, clearing his throat and wishing Benny would say or do something other than stare down the hallway.

Luckily your mother came into the room with refreshments, breaking the tension as she began to ask questions about Betty and the children. It seemed to lighten the mood momentarily and Benny took it as his opportunity to escape, asking for the bathroom.

As soon as he turned the corner away from prying eyes, he heard a gentle humming and his heart began to thunder in his chest. Walking as carefully as possible on the rickety floorboards, he willed his heavy boots not to make a sound as he approached the crack in your door. Face bathed in the sliver of light emanating from a tiny lamp at your bedside, he watched in hushed awe as you tied pink, satin ribbons in your hair. Lace nightie inching higher with each raise of your elbow, the thin material slowly grazed along your upper thighs, making him sigh appreciatively.

He could have sworn he saw a hint of a smile winking back at him in the mirror as you reached for your lotion and a familiar heat began to rise in his abdomen. In a moment of courage, he slipped inside your room. Closing the door behind himself with a soft thud, he placed a finger to his lips with a look of mischievous delight.

The sight was utterly contagious, making you clasp a hand to your mouth to stifle the giggle ready to erupt from your lips. However, the sound of your father's voice a few rooms over soon impressed the seriousness of the situation upon you.

Rushing at Benny with palms splayed on his chest to move him back across the threshold, you whispered frantically, "We can't...you have to go."

"You want me to go?" came Benny's breathless response, hoping this wouldn't be the way things ended.

As you lost yourself in the ocean's of his eyes, you gulped, shaking your head pathetically.

"Then let me stay," he begged, giving his best puppy dog eyes. You tried to look away, but he hooked your chin with his fingers holding your gaze in a smoldering stare. He watched as your resolve crumbled before him, a small smile playing on his lips as he asked, "Did you pray for me every night like a good girl?"

You nodded as best you could in his firm grasp, only a whimper of agreement as your reply.

His cock stirred at your admission, the idea that you'd thought of him at night enough to rouse his deepest desires. The world fell away as he tugged you into his body, hands roving your hips and lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Yeah? On your hands and knees? Let me see."

Benny could tell by the way your breasts crushed against his chest that you were breathing hard, unaccustomed to someone manhandling you like this. You tapped his elbow for him to relinquish his hold and for a moment his heart stopped, worried he'd pushed you too far. As he surveyed the crucifix on your wall and the sweet confection of a dress you'd laid out for Sunday service in the morning, he reminded himself you weren't the kind of girl who did these things....even knew about them.

Then something miraculous happened. You sunk to your knees in the plush carpet, hands trailing along his muscular thighs reverently before coming to rest inches from his crotch. As you sat back on your heels you looked up at him, eyes glistening and plump lips parted. He might have hallucinated the next part, but the golden glow over the crown of your head looked damn near like a halo in the dim light. You offering yourself to him like an angel in one of his dreams.

Benny wasn't a religious man by any stretch of the imagination, but if he was he'd swear God sent you straight to him. He was certain the warmth of your smile and the softness of your touch was all he'd ever need to feel complete. Now he understood why you had to be kept under lock and key. A person like you was too precious to be defiled and his conscience began to gnaw at him the longer he stared, thumb stroking your bottom lip tenderly.

But the sinner that wanted every part of you was winning the battle inside him and soon his own desire overtook him. He moved his hand to tangle in your hair and took hold of your silky ribbons like a set of reins, guiding you closer in silent demand. Widening his stance to accommodate you, he urged, "Go on, baby."

And you answered the plea, tethered to his side dutifully. You nuzzled against his bulge, feeling the effect you had on him. In a word it was intoxicating and you needed more. Undoing his zip you gasped at the sight of him, knowing instantly you'd take the risk of being caught if it meant touching him, holding him...feeling the weight of him on your tongue.

The growls you pulled from him were devilish even as your delicate fingers and mouth tried to calm the beast inside him. He was a man possessed, but you did your best to keep pace with the ravenous desire of his hips pushing into you, causing saliva to run down your chin and past your knuckles. With every gag, he seemed to clutch your shoulder tighter, sigh a little deeper and it spurred you on until you heard him instruct you in a shaky voice, "Have to... swallow it all now, darlin'... okay?"

Your mind raced as you tried to recall what your friends had told you about this, but you didn't have time as he spilled into your waiting mouth. The bitter tang coated your tongue with his grateful pants echoing over your head. As you swallowed everything he had to give, you felt him stroke your cheek adoringly. "Angel, I think I love you," he exhaled on a low breath, raising you to your feet for a passionate kiss.

There was little time to bask in the afterglow, however. The din in the lounge had grown, indicating some kind of argument and he quickly stuffed himself back into his jeans.

“I don't think you can stay," you mumbled sorrowfully against his lips.

"S'okay, nothin’s gonna keep us apart," he assured you, that wicked grin returning.

"You promise?" you asked, tears gathering at your lashline in fear he'd never return.

"Always keep my promises, angel. Keep prayin' for me now," he winked, glancing down at your dimpled, reddened knees before exiting out your bedroom door.

[fandoms--fluff]

GIRL GIRL GIRL RIGHT, I THOUGHT I WAS THE FIRST PERSON TO EVER THINK OF POLY!MIKAELSONS WITH LITTLE!READER (in my head i mean not like writing) BUT I AM IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING PLEASE I BEG YOU I NEED MORE, GIVE ME MORE AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

-🩷

Poly Mikaelsons with a Little Reader Headcannons

A/n: your wish is my command

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

Klaus

You'd call him Daddy, and not any other, unlike some of the rest of your mommies and daddies

Like there'd be no reason for needing to call him anything else

Except the couple of times you copied Kol by saying 'Nik'. Which ended in Kol almost getting smacked by Klaus if freya hadn't intervened during those times

He'd definitely spoil you, not caring about Elijah's protests on the matter

He shows you his hybrid eyes to calm you down from a nightmare or a crying fit

^works like magic every time

This beautiful daddy is protective of you like nobody's business

It might as well be his full time job

He'd be the most possessive of you, especially when you regress into basically a baby, not being able to pit together a coherent sentence and just want to snuggle.

^which he would happily comply because even though it may not seem it, he'd be one of the biggest cuddlers, his wolf side playing right into it even moreso.

Elijah

You'd call him Daddy and sometimes when your tired or really regressed, call him Dada

But it's not an every day basis thing

In a very close 2nd place of how protective he is over you, to Klaus

To get you to go down for a nap, he'd walk around the abboiter's endless hallways while gently bouncing you in his arms until your snoozing peace and quietly

Would most likely buy and set up a baby monitor in your nursery to have even more reassurance of your safety even though his vamp hearing is way more reliable than the little machine. But none of the others say anything against it and let it be.

You'd sit with him in his study, coloring a sheet of paper with crayons, sat in his lap, as your Daddy reads through paperwork and boring adult vampire stuff

He'd be very soft with our that no one outside the family has seen or knows of. He'd sit with you in his bed or on the couch or in your nursery on the rocking chair and read you a story - mostly fairytales.

Paces kisses on the crown of your head

Kol

You'd call him Dada and nothing else - he's Dada and will always stay that way to you.

EXCEPT

When kol acts childishy himself (as he often does), he seems more like a best friend than a caregiver to you in those times, so then you'd call him Koly

^the rest of them may or may not be waiting for the moment where it's clear he's also a little cause like c'mon- but that's a discussion for another time

Would definitely be the one to go all out while playing with you, whether that ne setting up massive race tracks all around the abboiter for hot weel cars or creating high pitch voices for your barbie dolls and stuffed animals

He'd blow raspberries on your stomach, sending you into a fit of screeching laughter

Would 100% be labeled as the 'fun daddy'

He'd be the most disappointed when Rebekah banned them from ever dressing you again. He himself thought his outfit choices were incredible.

Would give you smooches all over your face, making you burst out into gleeful laughter

Rebekah

You'd call her Mama and Momma. Mama is used more, but you interchange it depending on your regressed state.

She'd treat you like a princess and almost spoils you as much as Klaus

She'd love buying you cute dresses and jewelry that's safe for you so you won't choke on it or hurt yourself.

She'd ban Elijah, Klaus, and Kol from ever dressing you after witnessing the horrendous outfits they put you in.

^ "this is a fashion nightmare what on earth were you thinking?!" Is a line said to all of them at different moments before she got them all together in a room and declared they're banned from dressing you any longer.

Would do your hair up in the cutest hairstyles, especially the ones with multiple braids

^it's calming for both you and her

She loves just laying with you on her bed. You snuggled into her closet and head nuzzled into her surprising warm vampire chest.

Suckling on her boobs before you're laid down for your bedtime or naps

Freya

You'd call her Mommy and sometimes Momma when you're more regressed. But she's your Mommy through and through.

She loves holding you in her arms and gets a tad disappointed when she has to put you down

^she'd 100% buy one of those adult wraps to hold you against her body

Would cast a protective charm on you so nothing happens to hurt you.

Having Mommy and Mama days with her and Rebekah>>>> they'd be the best!

Freya's the only other one who can still dress you without Rebekah going all 'power mad' (Kol's wording) because she knows her older sister has got the fashion sense that their brothers don't contain.

She'd place Kisses all over your face in the morning after you'd just woken up

Would sway you in her arms and sometimes she doesn't even realize she's doing so

[flowerfreya]

Best 3/4

Part 9 of the office AU

Masterlist

The boys figured that they need to lay off reader and the best way to do that is to back with their ex (boys are dumb)

Pairing : Poly!141 x reader

A/n: sorry there’s a lot of Simon x reader , he’s my comfort character and my fav trope is I har everyone but you and he gives that so much. I’m not the best writer so I have trouble with flow sometimes so bare with me

You’ve been working for 141 industries for about 2 months now, it’s nice to have your own. Own money, your own car, and your own apartment. You think that the boys have gotten back with their ex, and that is making you feels some things that if you didn’t care you shouldn’t feel.

Their ex only seems to like all of them except for Simon , he seems almost like an afterthought to her. She rolls in the office, always leaves the front door open and just waltzes into John’s office , without even an ask to see if he’s in a meeting.

“I’m sorry ,he’s in a mee-”, she interrupts you with a wave and a fake smile, goes in and shuts the door and closes the blinds. You huff out a breath and look up to see Simon staring at you , letting out a small shrug. Simon and you both stand up, it’s lunch time. Everyday at the same time , you get up and eat lunch , whether that is in the breakroom or getting something to eat at a fast food place. Simon started joining you a little over two weeks ago, you noticed that Simon doesn’t really bring lunch just eats shit out of the vending machine.

You started making and packing extra food for him.

“I have extra food today, if you want some”, you sit down at the same table next to him.

“`M good”, as he opens a bag of chips.

“Please just eat, I always make too much food”, shoving the food towards him. He gives you a look and you give him a small smile and nod your head towards the food.

“So, how long have you guys been dating”, you wave your hand in a you know who gesture.

He makes a hum noise, “who?”

“The women in Price’s office” .

“Oh,I guess our girlfriend”.

“She doesn’t seem to like to hang out with you”

“Yeah, well I’m not the best guy”.

“I beg to differ”, you think that Simon is the nicest guy you’ve met. He helped you when he really didn’t have too and likes to eat lunch with you and appreciates your food too.

You hear a shrill , “Receptionist”,she can’t even remember your name. She kind of slaps the table like she’s hitting a bell. You see her just standing there , waiting for you.

“Yes”

“I need you to clear John’s schedule for tomorrow afternoon”

You turn to look at John in office with the door shut, focused on his computer,”Uhh does John now about this”, you question.

“Of course, sweetie”, she is using her fake customer voice , you know because you are using it too.

“ I think, I’m going to ask him , just in case”, you start to move in the direction of his office. No way he really wants to clear his schedule, you’ve never seen him take lunch. A whole afternoon off, no way.

You knock as you push the door open, “Hi, Mr.Price, just trying to fig-”,

“Not now”.

“Oh well I was-”

He looks up then with a harsh brown and a closed mouth speaking through his teeth , “Not now”.

It shocks you, he’s never talked to you like that but you have been talked to like that a lot. Your natural response is to quiet down and get out the way. You quietly back out the room and sit back down at your desk.

You look up at her still waiting for you to clear the schedule, “I guess it’s fine”

“Wonderful” , she has such a wide smile and is so pretty. You think you hate her.

“Opps almost forgot”, she walks to Soap and gives him a big kiss and you can definitely see tongue. You want to look away but you can’t help it , it’s enticing. She lets out a little giggle and wipes her mouth and then saunters out the door.

Simon is sitting there, no kiss received, and is staring at you.

[wuaxoi]

tattooed my heart

synopsis! you were getting a new tattoo, obviously it was exiting… but your new tattoo artist was more exiting than the process itself tho.

TATTOO ARTIST! minjeong x SIMP! reader GENRE! suggestive, strangers to lovers, non!idol au TW! reader is getting a tattoo ( obvi ), mentions of sex, reader is drunk, kisses, making out, dry humping, reader being jealous, chaewon ( lessera ) mentioned.. that’s it ig NOW IS PLAYING! . . middle about by chase atlantic

you were so excited to get yourself a new tattoo. you’ve been waiting to get it for almost three months since your tattoo artist was so busy with work, but when he said that his friend is available to do your tattoo, you obviously couldn’t resist. the sooner you get what you want the better.

the inside of the tattoo shop was pretty cold since it was crazy hot outside and it made a nice contrast of temperature to cool down. you entered the shop all sweaty, greeted the girl sitting behind the counter and she walked to the last door in the hallway with you.

“your artist’s name is minjeong, she’s already waiting for you” the girl said and walked back to her seat and you knocked on the door before opening it. you came inside the room and closed the door behind you.

“y/n?” you hear a girl’s voice from the other side of the room right when you were looking around. your gaze stopped on the girl turned to you with her back.

“mhm” you nodded and walked to the chair where she was sitting. minjeong turned around and looked up at you. she noticed you were a bit sweaty even though you were wearing a revealing and light outfit, that means the weather outside was extremely hot.

your eyes widened slightly as soon as you got a chance to look at your new tattoo artist. she was hot. she was doing something with tattoo machine and her hands looked so attractive.. her light soft skin, the way her hands was shaped and the veins were visible like that. oh and her face. you’ve never seen someone prettier in your life. the way her puppy-like eyes were looking at you, her a bit tired and careless gaze makes her look so handsome..

“you’re staring” minjeong chuckles at the way you were checking her out and scanning her face. well she did the same, but you were too busy looking at her to notice that.

“oh! sorry.. im sorry” you quickly realised that you were being a bit weird with checking her out like that, you didn’t even know each other. you felt how your hands started getting sweaty and you looked down at minjeong again. “should i sit on the couch?” you asked.

“yeah, sit down. i’ll get the paint..” minjeong nodded and stood up from her seat to walk towards the cupboard to get the rest of the materials. she searched through it and took a little bottle of the black tattoo paint out and showed it to you. “you’re getting a black tattoo, right?”

“yes, just a simple black one” you answered and placed your bag on the couch next to you. minjeong get back on her seat and gently grabbed your hand to transfer the sketch she did earlier on your skin.

“it’ll be a bit painful, try not to move, darling” minjeong said and before you could close your eyes you felt a slight pain on your skin. fuck why would she call you darling that was so hot.

“so you wanna fuck with her?” you were already outside, drinking alcohol with your friends in some stupid club. you got your tattoo done almost 7 hours ago and now you were talking about how hot minjeong was and how she called you darling.

“what?!” you looked at your friend, eyes full of shock and mouth wide open to say anything else but you couldn’t find a word.

“of course she does” your other friend rolled her eyes and chuckled at your reaction since it was pretty clear from your words and the way you were acting all day that you liked minjeong. you find her very attractive. well who wouldn’t tbh.

“i need you both to shut the fuck up that’s so embarrassing!”

“nothing embarrassing about the fact that you have a crush on your new tattoo artist! that’s completely normal.” your friend said and took a sip of her drink. you just wanted to say something in response but you spotted her. sitting on the sofa in a private zone of the club with the less people around, drinking her cocktail or whatever it was, talking with some good looking girl… you suddenly felt jealous. you needed minjeong to get all her attention on you. only you. you wanted her, she looked so handsome in this casual ass outfit with black t-shirt and gray jeans.. what the fuck? why does she have to look this hot right now when you were drunk and couldn’t control yourself?

“gotta go” you said before you finished your drink in one sitting and stood up from your place. your friends already knew where you were going and what you wanted to do because they spotted minjeong right after you started staring at her like obsessed puppy.

you walked to the private zone through the crowd of drunk people. not so suddenly you were stopped by a security guard and tried to explain that you knew the girl sitting right there behind his back, but he won’t listen until minjeong spotted you. your eyes met and she smirked almost unnoticeable for your vision. minjeong stood up, walked to the security guard and whispered something to him and he finally stepped back to let you in.

“hey, what are you doing here?” minjeong leaned closer to your ear and touched your lower back gently to lead you to the sofa where she was sitting before. you looked at her, the way she was touching you so gently and so slightly so you could barely feel it.. you needed more. maybe you drank too much or maybe you liked minjeong even though you met her just few hours ago. it doesn’t matter right now. all that matters was her hand almost on your ass.

“i was just drinking with my friends” you shrugged your shoulders and sat down on the couch where minjeong led you right next to the girl she was chatting with when you spotted her. “and you..?”

“just having fun” minjeong answered and helded you a drink.

“i can tell, yeah” you looked at the girl. she was wearing shot red dress, you couldn’t help but admit that she was gorgeous to say at least. you felt another pinch of jealousy.

“oh no, no.. it’s my friend, chaewon” minjeong introduced her friend to you and you nodded at her with a slight smile to not look like a crazy jealous jerk. chaewon smiled at you as well. you could tell by the way she was looking at you that she knew something. knew why you came here when you saw minjeong.

you don’t remember how you ended up like that.. maybe you drank too much and forgot about everything, maybe you didn’t want to remember because it doesn’t matter. all that matters now is the fact that you were sitting on minjeong’s lap, your legs on the both sides of her lap, your hands wrapped around her neck. you wanted to kiss her so bad. you wanted to taste her, hear those wet sounds while you were kissing her so passionately.

“please let me kiss you... minjeong, please..” you literally begged her. you wanted more of her touch, wanted her lips on yours, wanted to feel her lips on your skin.

“so you’re begging now, darling? so impatient, huh?” minjeong moved her hand lower on your back to harshly grab your ass. you gasped in surprise but that doesn’t mean you weren’t enjoying the way she was touching you. minjeong was scanning your face expression, the way your body was reacting to her touch and she smirked. “wanna kiss me?”

“yes minjeong, yes” you nodded quickly. you looked so pathetic. the way you were asking for her kiss like that, the way you were looking at her with those needy eyes.. you wanted to make her know you wanted her so badly.

“you’re so cute” minjeong pulled you closer to her face and kissed you. you closed your eyes immediately, pulling her closer to you, you wanted your body to be pressed against hers as close as possible. your hands moved from the back of her neck to her shoulders, you tried to keep yourself still on top of her.

nobody was paying attention to you two. people were drunk, they were dancing and who the fuck cares about two girls on the vip section eating each other’s faces? it happens all the time.

you felt minjeong’s another hand on your ass and opened your eyes in shock when she moved your upper body on top of her lap. you started rubbing on her lap almost instinctly.

“such a nasty girl..” minjeong spoke against your skin. she was kissing your neck, slowly moving lower to your collarbone and biting it slightly as she continued moving you on top of her.

“couldn’t help it” you let out a quiet moan. the fabric of her jeans against your thin underwear and your wet clenching pussy felt so nice. how could you manage to get so wet by just kissing her? fuck she was so attractive like that, so gorgeous under you. the way she touched you just like she was born for that, like you were made for each other.

minjeong suddenly stopped your movements and hold you on top of her, but she couldn’t stop kissing you. “we need to get somewhere more private, don’t you think?”

you groaned annoyed which made minjeong chuckle at your reaction and gently stroke your cheek. “come on” she helped you stood up and you both started walking towards the exit of this stupid club. oh this night is gonna be fun.

author note: it’s my first time EVER writing something more into smut and suggestive related and i know that was short and maybe poorly written and the relationships between those two were super quick but lol i tried

[drabblesandimagines]

Sliding Doors

Leon Kennedy x female reader, Chris Redfield x female reader, fluff, angst

For the lovely @porcelainseashore who commission a continuation from Forever Hold Your Peace. Thank you for all your love and support ❤️

“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony…” the minister begins, but as you stand opposite Chris – a soft, adoring smile on his face, shedding a tear when he’d saw how beautiful you looked as you walked down the aisle – you can’t help but meet the gaze of the best man’s icy blue eyes for a moment. “..speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Leon clenches his fists.

“No.”

It’s a muttered plea more than a loud proclamation, but it’s audible enough for several pairs of eyes to focus on him due to the interruption.

The minister smiles, awkwardly, his eyes flitting between the members of the bridal party to gauge whether it was a joke – heaven knows he’s seen them fall flat before - before he clears his throat to proceed with the vows.

“Christo-”

“No.” It’s louder that time, Leon’s voice echoed around the room like a gunshot.

“Not the time for your jokes, bud.” Chris forces out a laugh as he replies over his shoulder, before turning back to you and offering a reassuring smile.

“It’s not a joke.” You wish the ground would swallow you up as Leon remains focused on you. “Don’t marry him.”

“Leon”, Claire hisses from over your shoulder, looking furious. “What are you doing?”

He ignores her. “I’m not saying marry me, but just… Don’t marry him.”

You shake your head, subtly, eyes wide in fear as the small congregation of friends and family begin to whisper amongst themselves.

This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

Chris’ fists are now clenched as he turns to his supposed best man, his brow furrowed as he tries to analyze the situation, his mind automatically heading into work mode – assess, strategize, action.

“What is this?”

Leon ignores Chris too, instead taking a step forward. “I’m different now – I swear. Just give me another chance. The connection’s still there – I know you felt it when we kissed-”

“Kissed?!” Chris and Claire reiterate almost in unison, and someone in the seated crowd gasps.

“What kiss?” Chris presses, turning back to look at you in disbelief. “Honey, what’s he talking about?”

Your mouth feels drier than it ever has, your tongue heavy in your mouth. “I didn’t, Chris… I… I mean, he…”

“I kissed her, Redfield.” Leon cuts across, rolling back his shoulders as he sidesteps in front of the groom, blocking you from his sight. “When you asked me to deliver that gift earlier, I kissed her. Can’t say it was the first time either.”

You should say something more coherent than your mumbled excuses – explain what Leon means by that because it definitely makes it sound worse than it is - but your heart is pounding and you’re beginning to feel a little faint.

This isn’t real, it’s a bad dream and you’re going to wake up in the hotel suite, Claire knocking on the door, hair stylist and make-up artist in tow to help you start getting ready.

The minister tries to soothe tensions instead. “Perhaps we should take this somewhere more private to-“

“What the fuck does that mean, Kennedy?”

“We were a thing-”

“We were not a thing, Leon,” you shift a little to the side then so you can see Chris, finding your voice at last.

You wished you hadn’t moved as hurt flashes across Chris’ face - sweet, loyal, dependable Chris.

Chris, who never fails to set up coffee machine timer to greet you with a freshly brewed batch when he has to leave early, who would always find some sort of way to communicate with you even if he was halfway across the world, who never shied away from holding your hand or kissing you in public, who told his closest colleagues about you openly, who didn’t treat you like a dirty little secret.

Chris, who, despite how much you tried to convince yourself, has never made you feel quite like Leon did.

“-before you two started dating.” Leon presses on, ignoring how the taller man’s shoulders grow more and more tense, seething breaths now coming out of his nose. “I treated her rotten, drove her into your arms and regretted it every minute since. I’m not gonna let her make the biggest mis-”

Chris’ fist meets Leon’s face – it’s so swift that the whole room takes a moment to realise what’s happened. The agent is surprisingly not knocked off his feet by the blow but stumbles back and you automatically reach out a hand to steady him by his arm, unaware of how it looks in that moment.

Leon wipes a trickle of blood from his mouth, looking smug as he relishes your touch. “Not gonna say I didn’t deserve that.”

Chris is staring at your hand on Leon’s arm and you pull it back when you see the hurt in his eyes, wringing your hands together as you begin to plead.

“I’m sorry, Chris. I should’ve told you, but it… It was nothing. A blip. It wasn’t anything like what we have. He kissed me earlier and I pushed him away and I told him. Please.”

“Is this why you were crying?” Claire demands, stepping over to stand besides Chris in an act of support. Her shoulders are high, ready to protect her brother at all costs. “In the suite earlier, when Leon was there.”

“N-no,” you shake your head furiously, but your voice isn’t convincing enough to your own ears, especially in comparison to Leon’s firm “Yes.”

You’re hot, the wedding gown of your dreams feeling stifling, too tight, the veil tugging heavily at your scalp.

“Chris, please, can we go talk somewhere?” You step forward, past Leon, hand outstretched to take your fiance’s. You want to take him away from all the prying eyes, the disbelieving murmurs, away from all the tension, have a discussion with clear heads, but he pulls his hand from out of your reach.

“Do you love him?” Chris’ voice is so flat it makes you feel sick. It’s the same tone he has when he comes back from missions where he’s lost comrades, the one that you can slowly break him out of after days of soft words and touches.

You never wanted to be the cause of it.

“It’s been years.” There’s the crack in your voice again, your next words a little too rushed. “I love you. You’re sweet. You’re so sweet, kind and loyal.”

Everything Leon wasn’t.

“I said, do you love Leon?”

You stare deep into Chris’ eyes then, his lips pressed together in a thin line. There had been something when Leon had kissed you less than an hour ago, how easily you’d almost fallen back into threading your fingers into his hair to deepen it, how your heartbeat had remained elevated since.

Leon is a wildcard and Chris is steady, dependable – everything you should want.

Everything you’ve been convincing yourself you did want.

One more look into your fiancee’s eyes is all it takes. He doesn’t deserve this but he does deserve the truth.

You take a shuddering breath and nod.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Right.” Chris nods, as casual as if he’s just been given his latest set of orders. He turns on his heels and heads back down the aisle – the aisle he was meant to be walking down with you on his arm as his new wife – with his head and shoulders held high, Claire hurrying after him, dropping your bouquet as she does.

As you stare at his retreating form, Leon slips his hand into yours and squeezes.

And, as tears begin to stream down your face again, you squeeze back.

--

He drove you away from the venue on his bike, your cheek pressed firmly against his back and your veil floating behind you in the wind.

Cars honked in celebration around you, all under the impression that a husband was taking his new wife for a celebratory ride, not that the best man had just absconded with the bride.

He takes you back to his apartment, a thing he’d never done when you were ‘together’, but it made sense now, considering. You lived with Chris, a two-storey on a cul-de-sac, white picket fence – you could hardly go back there today.

Or ever.

“What can I do, sweetheart?” Leon asks, cautiously, as you both stand in his living room a few feet apart. It feels more like a show-home than your place – no personal affects, the coffee table empty besides a remote control for the widescreen.  

“I… I need to get out of this.” You huff, ripping the veil from your scalp at last, the pins holding it in place scattering over his polished wooden floor and you fling it down on the sofa. You know you won’t be able to undo your dress yourself so you turn, flustered. “I can’t…”

“I’ve got you, it’s okay.” Leon soothes, closing the gap between the two of you and deftly unpicking the laces of the corset with nimble fingers. You feel it loosen immediately, but it doesn’t ease the suffocating feeling in your chest.

“There.” The dress drops a little and you quickly wrap your arms around yourself, keeping it up, before Leon steps around the coffee table, heading towards the hallway. “I’ll… I’ll grab you a change of clothes.”

Your clothes, right. They’re all at yours.

Oh, God, how are you going to get them?

How could you ever face Chris again?

You remain standing in the living room, forcing yourself to breathe deeply. You can hear Leon opening and closing some drawers, obviously looking for something that you can wear. He emerges a few moments later, holding a grey sweatshirt and some black gym shorts.

“I think these will work. Shorts have a drawstring, so…”

“Where’s the bathroom?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, down the hall, second door on your left.”

You take the clothes from his hand, avoiding eye contact and head to change. Your hands are shaking as you turn the lock, quickly shedding your dress and wedding night lingerie – not how you thought you’d be removing it tonight, that’s for sure, but you can’t bear to keep any of it on. Finally, you slide a lacey white garter off your thigh and bundle everything together into a ball, placing it on top of one of the two laundry baskets in the corner, noting he separates lights and darks.

You pull the sweatshirt over your head – it feels odd, oversized but not as oversized as any of the things you’d stolen from Chris’ dresser – before putting on the shorts and double-knotting the cord to keep them up.

You wet your face in the sink next, washing off your make-up as best you can. A glint catches your eye from your right hand – your engagement ring moved over in preparation for the wedding ring being slipped on.

You’ll need to return it.

Carefully, you pull it off your finger and place it on the sink, undoing the latch on the necklace Chris had sent Leon up with – does he regret that now? Is he sat somewhere with a whiskey, mulling over what would be different if he hadn’t sent his best man to the bridal suite? - and thread it through the chain, fastening it back around your neck and tucking it under the sweatshirt, out of sight.

You don’t want to wear it, really, the idea making you feel sick being adorned with gifts that Chris had picked out lovingly - but you don’t want to lose it somewhere in Leon’s apartment either.

Leon is still standing in the same place in the living room when you emerge, the only difference being his tie is now off and thrown over the coffee table, one hand in his pocket. You stop a couple of feet in front of him and stare, trying to read his gaze.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t set out to say those things, baby. I just-” You throw yourself into his arms, sobbing – for what’s just occurred and for how horrible you feel when being in his arms immediately just feels so right, more natural than being wrapped in Chris’ ever did.

Leon presses kisses to your crown, pulls you back and down onto the sofa and hooks your legs up into his lap, rocking you back and forth like a child who needs consoling.

“It’s all right. It’ll be okay. And I’ll be better, I promise.” He murmurs against your ear when your sobs begin to slow, his white shirt significantly damp with your abundance of tears. “I’m not fucking up again. Not after this, baby. I’ll spend every damn day showing you how serious I am about you, about us.”

--

Chris remains a gentleman, despite everything. The first you hear from him is one week after the wedding, via email, letting you know that he’ll be out of the house for a few days if you’d like to go in and collect your things. He’s going to put the house on the market after, said he’s taken a new position within the BSAA and will be permanently relocating to the European branch, so doesn’t see the point in keeping it empty. It’s not surprising, really, Chris has been headhunted a couple of times since his work in Europe, but he’d always wanted to remain on American soil, with you.

He adds he’s going to sell the furniture as a job lot too, so to take anything you like and then leave the keys under the doormat once you’re done.

He signs it best regards.

He’s too nice for what you’ve done to him.

A fact Claire had reminded you of daily – scornful text messages and voicemails telling you exactly what she thinks of you and Leon. They cease only after Chris can be heard in the background of the final voicemail, telling her to stop.

You’re living in a short-term rental when you pick up your things – not that you would’ve taken any of the furniture anyway. You’d stayed at Leon’s for a week after, sleeping in his spare room. He’d returned to the venue and picked up the things you’d left in the bridal suite as you lay in bed, festering in the horrible combination of guilt and relief of what had transpired.

Leon wanted you to move in permanently, but you told him it was too much, too soon. You made demands this time, wanting to take it slow but also testing the limits of how much he had meant it when he said things would be different, that he would be different.

You were selfish with them at first – he had to date you properly, take you out for lunch, coffee and dinner dates, walks around the park, weekend trips away and trips to the movies, hold your hand and kiss you in public.

You told him you wanted him to try therapy, to learn how to communicate.

And, to his credit, he does it all. He hates the first three therapists, only managing a session or two with them, but he keeps going until he clicks with the fourth and sees them every Wednesday – always reschedules for another day of the week if he’s away with work.

You’re never sure how he’s going to be immediately after – sometimes he emerges with the weight of the world resting even more heavily on his shoulders, other times he seems to have a pep in his step until, gradually, he comes out lighter and lighter every time.

He tells you he loves you when you make a dumb joke over dinner in a cheesy diner – so loud in his proclamation that the waitress gives the two of you a slice of pie each on the house, extra whipped cream.

There are things he’s still uncomfortable with but he’s better at communicating, each of you compromising as you settle into the relationship.

“Do you want to get married?” He murmurs in your ear one night a year and a half later, spooning you against his bare chest. The bedroom has a pile of moving boxes stacked in the corner - your first night in your new, shared apartment.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” you take one of his hands, fidget with his fingers. “What about you?”

“I don’t mind either way,” he grasps hold of your wrist and rolls you over in a smooth notion. “Whatever you want.”

“Uh-uh,” you correct, “we’re partners, remember?”

“Right. Whatever we want.” He kisses you then, slowly, as if he has the whole night to while away. He’s never in a rush when it comes to you, not any more.

“I love you.” You mumble between kisses, feeling him smile as he captures your lips once again.

“I love you, sweetheart. Always and forever.”

--

“Leon?”

“Huh?” He’s spaced out – Chris, Claire, the minister and you all staring expectantly at him.

“Got the rings, man?” Chris is holding out his hand, an amused smile on his face.

Right, the rings.

Best man hands over the rings.

He stuffs his hand into his trouser pocket and tugs out the little mesh bag they’d been placed in. He can’t imagine Chris wearing his for long, not with his line of work. Leon wouldn’t either, truth be told. He’d get a nice chain, maybe, have it hang over his heart.

Chris takes the bag with a nod of thanks and empties them out onto the minister’s book, big fingers fumbling to pick up the ring he’s about to slide on your finger, following the minister’s prompts in reciting his vows.

Leon stares at you as you look up into Chris’ eyes, smiling so much your cheeks must hurt, and tries not to think about how when you had looked at him like that, he’d left you the next morning with nothing but a note on the pillow.

--

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you would please be upstanding for the new Mr and Mrs Redfield!”

Leon hadn’t realized he’d be sat next to you at the top table. He hadn’t thought much about the reception at all, besides the speech Chris asked him to make.

But, fuck, you look so happy walking in with him that it takes his breath away. Your fingers interlaced, surrounded by cheers and applause. Redfield can’t help himself – Leon wouldn’t either - swings you around and dips you into a kiss in the middle of the floor. You look embarrassed when he releases you, but there’s a giddy smile on your face too.

He couldn’t give you that. He couldn’t. He’s not sure Redfield can either – setting you up for disappointment and heartbreak.

He doesn’t know why anyone else is seated at the top table – you and Chris only have eyes for each other throughout dinner. He drinks more than he eats, wondering if he can make Redfield regret putting on an open bar.

“Now, for the best man – Leon Kennedy.”

He pulls the notecard out of his jacket pocket as he stands - he’d started writing it so many times but never got particularly far. That morning, he’d searched generic best man speech on his phone and jotted it down.

“You’ll be pleased to know that I’ll be keeping this short and sweet – two words you probably wouldn’t use to describe Chris Redfield.” He pauses, polite laughter rippling through the crowd.

“There’s two things being celebrated here today. The first being that it’s finally been acknowledged that I am, in fact, the best man between us.” He pauses again, taking a pre-emptive swig of his drink to help dull the ache of the words to come.

“Secondly, of course, the union of this… wonderful couple. May your lives be filled with love and happiness. To the bride and groom!”

The guests raise their glass in unison and Leon sits down heavily in his seat, downing the rest of his drink as Chris stands up, thanking Leon for his speech and leading an applause. He picks up a champagne flute and looks down at you, adoringly.

“Truthfully, I’m wondering if I should’ve gone first, because mine’s even shorter than Leon’s. Thank you all so much for coming here today to celebrate with us. All that’s really left to say is, I love you, darling – always and forever.”

Chris bends down to steal another kiss and the guests applaud and cheer once again – Leon swears it’s louder than what his speech received.

“I love you so much, Chris.”

Leon wishes it had been louder still to drown out your response.

--

“You ready?” Chris murmurs into your ear before pressing a kiss against your jaw. You didn’t think it was possible – you’d never seen Chris drunk ever – but it seems the numerous glasses of champagne have gotten to his head. He’ll deny it in the morning if you accuse him, tell you it wasn’t the alcohol which was making him act that way, no, it was you that was making him love-drunk, before capturing your lips in a kiss.

You nod and squirm with a giggle, his stubble tickling your neck. You had sat down at the table for a breather, after completing a round of the tables to greet your guests as well as a couple of dances with your friends. You haven’t seen Leon since dinner and, truthfully, he’s the furthest thing from your mind ever since Chris slipped the ring on your finger. Your new husband takes your hand and grabs a chair with the other, leading you to the middle of the small dance floor and places it down. Once he’s happy, he lifts his other arm above his head to twirl you into position and down upon the chair.

You feel giddy – from love, champagne, happiness – as Chris kneels before you and gently begins to lift the hem of your dress up and over your knees.

Someone in the crowd wolf-whistles, probably one of the squad, and Chris turns in the direction to mockingly glare. He then resumes his work of pulling your dress up a little more, cautiously, until he found what he was looking for – a lacey white garter on your thigh.

Chris asking if you wanted to do the garter toss part of the ceremony had come completely out of left-field, so much so you were thankful you hadn’t taken a sip of your drink before he’d asked, lest you had spit it out in his face. He scratched the back of his head, gave you a dopey-looking smile that made you want to cuddle him rotten and said he wanted to do things by the book. He wanted the tradition, some sense of normalcy in his life with the whole white wedding, and having no strong feelings about it either way you’d agreed.

Now, though, as he looks up at you with that up-to-no-good smirk, you wonder if you should’ve said no.

“Hands or teeth?”

“Huh?”

He lightly pings the garter on your thigh. “Shall I remove it with my hands or teeth, darling?”

“Chris!” You laugh, sure he was joking.

He tilts his head. “Uh-uh. Pick, please.”

“Fine.” You smirk back, buoyed in confidence by the champagne. “Teeth.”

“Excellent choice, Mrs Redfield.” He plants a hand on your other leg to steady himself, before lowering his head and you feel his teeth graze your thigh as he nips the lacey material and begins to tug it down, all to the hooting and hollering of the assembled crowd.  

Leon takes a long sip of whiskey as he watches from the corner. He would’ve used his teeth to remove it too, but only in the sanctity of the bedroom later that night.

It flies over the heads and outstretched arms of the bachelors – Chris always did have a good throw - and eventually smacks Leon right in the chest.

“All right, Kennedy!” Somebody cheers, and before he can really think about it, he bends down and snatches up the garter, aware that the eyes of the room are on him. He holds it aloft in a mock display of triumph.

He looks for you then, wondering what you’ll think – a sign from the universe that you’ve made a mistake – but your eyes are fixed on Chris, cupping his face in your palms as he remains knelt in front of you, pressing a long kiss to his lips.

Leon stuffs the garter deep in his trouser pocket.

--

Leon doesn’t see either of you for six months – thanks to a relentless run of missions, intercontinental travel and briefings all keeping his mind occupied – and it helps dull the ache in his chest too.

An email pops up in his inbox though, inviting him to the Redfield’s housewarming BBQ in a couple of weeks, but he never replies to the RSVP.

Still, he finds himself parking his bike up outside the new house – it has a white picket fence, for fuck’s sake, nestled on a quiet suburban street. To his trained eye, he can see some additional security measures, so at least Redfield hasn’t become completely complacent. The gate clicks a little louder than usual when he opens it, probably linked to some sort of surveillance system, the panes of glass in the window are clearly bullet-proof and the front door is steel, disguised to blend in with the rest of the street.

He rings the doorbell – looking direct into the pinhole camera.

Chris answers soon after, a black apron on for grilling duties over blue jeans and a white tee. He looks good, annoyingly so compared to the dark rings Leon has under his own eyes, but he’s perhaps a little softer around the edges. Leon had heard down the grapevine that Chris had taken more of a consultant type role at the BSAA, office hours, trying to move away from always having his boots on the ground – something he never thought he’d see.

“Hey! You made it. It’s great to see you, man.” Chris greets him, a genuine smile on his face. “Perfect timing – I’m just about to fire up the grill. We’re all just out in the yard.”

He steps over the threshold – his eyes immediately finding the framed wedding photo on the hall table, the one where you’d all signed the registry and the photographer had Leon stand by your side and Claire by Chris’.

He wonders if, when you look at it, you can tell his smile is fake.

He doesn’t take in much else of the house as he’s led through, instead forcing himself to take a deep breath in preparation of seeing you again. He’s tried to forget about the kiss through a string of dates from the office and one-night stands, but he still has your stolen garter tucked in the back of his bedside drawer.

It’s over, he chastises himself.

It didn’t even really begin either.

You’re facing away from him when he follows Chris through the kitchen and out onto wooden decking, a set of stairs leading down to a large rectangle of grass. There’s a good 15 or so in attendance, only a handful of people present that he recognizes, some from the wedding, all congregated in little groups, a long table set up with bowls of salad, chips, rolls, sauces and other snacks, a bucket of ice, rapidly melting in the midday sun, in which various drinks are nestled.

You’re talking to Claire and a guy he doesn’t recognize, but he has his arm draped around her shoulders. You’re dressed in a sweet floral sundress, capped sleeves, white sandals. He wants to slip in to the conversation, no fuss, no announcement, but Chris has other ideas.

“Hey, Leon’s here!”

You turn at your husband’s call, a little surprised. Chris had told you he’d invited Leon, of course, but noted that he hadn’t accepted or denied. Really, you weren’t sure if he’d show at all, given what had happened at the wedding and the fact he’d been off-grid for so long after.

Those bright blue eyes only meet yours for a moment before they trail down to your stomach, and the protective hand you’ve placed on top of it – only a recent habit since your bump had properly popped.

“Oh, yeah,” Chris chuckles, clocking on to exactly what Leon is staring at. He slaps him on the back, ushering him forward as he does. Leon wants to dig his heels in, maybe if he keeps his distance it won’t be real and only a trick of perspective, but his legs won’t co-operate.

“Sorry, should’ve said - turns out we brought more back than souvenirs from the honeymoon.”

Claire groans. “Are you going to use that line on everyone, Chris? It’s too early for you to be cracking out dad jokes.” She takes a swig of her beer, before nodding at Leon. “Hey.”

Leon nods in Claire’s direction, but his eyes are still fixed on you.

“Leon.” You smile, a little worried at how much colour has drained from the agent’s face. “We’re so glad you could make it. It’s been ages!”

“I…” He swallows, shaking his head a little as if he could shake off the feeling of disbelief. “Congratulations. On the house and the… baby.”

Redfield smirks as he steps over from Leon’s side to yours, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close to press a kiss to your temple. “Thanks, bud. Gotta admit, I’m feeling a pretty lucky guy.”

“The luckiest.”

Chris cocks his head at the lack of sarcasm, almost put off by how genuine Leon sounded.

“Sorry, is there any more beer?” Someone he doesn’t recognize – one of yours or Chris’ other friends, maybe – interrupts.

“Of course! I’ll go get it.” You barely make it a step out of Chris’ embrace before he wraps his hand around your arm and stills you with a furrowed brow.

“Babe, we tal-“

“We talked about me carrying heavy things.” You correct with a feigned huff. “The baby will be heavier than a box of beer.”

Chris looks apologetic. “All I was gonna say is you need to be careful – don’t want you wearing yourself out and missing the party.” Leon feels a stabbing pain once again in his chest as he watches Redfield cup your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Let’s be honest, darling, you’re usually on your second nap by this time.”

You pout, more so annoyed that Chris is right. The move, plus the second trimester had you feeling permanently fatigued. “True, but-”

“Let me go grab the beer,” Leon interrupts and Chris drops his hand from your face, as if he just realized Leon was still there. “Just tell me where.”

You frown at his offer. “You’re a guest.”

“A lousy guest - didn’t even bring a housewarming gift,” he berates himself. “Being the beer lackey can be it.”

“You didn’t need to get us anything – your company’s gift enough.” You place a hand on his arm and squeeze in reassurance - he swears his heart skips a beat. “It’s probably easier if I show you where. Come on.”

“Thanks, Leon.” Chris pats him on the back and turns to the grill, declaring it hot enough to finally start cooking.

Leon follows you, dutifully, back up the steps onto the decking, one hand poised ready to steady you if need be. You lead him towards the opposite end of the kitchen and towards the pantry, hesitating before you open the door.

“I’m sorry, if this was a shock.” You jerk your chin down at your stomach. “We were just sorta telling people as and when we saw them, rather than do any real big announcement.”

“Yet you announced the house?”

You smile, wryly. “I think Chris just wanted an excuse to buy that grill. He’s trying out lots of hobbies. I caught him looking up ride-on mowers the other night.”

“Heard he’s office-based now.” There’s a beat and it comes out before he can even think, always ready to justify his actions even when no-one’s called for it. “I couldn’t have done that for you.”

Suddenly, you’re thrown back to that hour before your wedding – something you truthfully hadn’t thought of until this moment.

“You think I asked Chris to do that? That I demanded a wedding and a house and a baby and…” Your voice cracks a little before you take a deep breath. Your emotions are high strung enough at the moment with the pregnancy and you try to compose yourself, digging your nails into your palms.

“You know what? No – I’m not going through this again. Relationships are about compromises on both sides, it’s unfortunate that’s what you still don’t seem to understand.”

You slide open the pantry door then, pointing to the back where a couple of boxes of beer are stacked, in amongst tubs of protein powder. “Just grab any of those, please. I’ll see you outside.”

Leon’s hand wraps around your wrist as you step away. It isn’t a firm grip by any means, just holding you loosely in place. “Just tell me one thing - are you happy?”

“I’m really happy, Leon.” You reply without a beat’s hesitation, because you are. “I hope one day you allow yourself to be happy too.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, only drops his grip on your wrist and turns into the pantry in the guise of retrieving the beer. It’s only when he hears you step back out onto the decking that he bends to pick up the box, half wondering if he should just quietly leave now.

No, that would only cause you grief, surely. He’s done enough of that.

After a few moments have passed, he lifts up the box and heads out, pulling the door shut to the pantry behind him. He heads back out into the yard, pausing at the top of the stairs to see you back at your husband’s side, laughing at something he’s said, looking up at him like he’s everything.

Chris wraps his arms around you, helping you up to your tip-toes so he can kiss you as passionately as he did on the wedding day, and every day since.

Claire wonders, loudly, whether your honeymoon phase will ever be over, but she’s smiling as she says it.

Leon silently carries over the box and opens it, adding a couple more cans of beer to the ice bucket before Claire hands him an open one, proposing a toast to the new house and baby Redfield.

Instead, Leon toasts to the life he could’ve had.

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

Comments and reblogs make my whole day x

[janeyseymour]

hi i love ur writings so so much i’m so sorry this idea is rushed but i hope its enough

abbot family is trying to encourage melissa to “get back out there” and meet people after everything she’s been through. she brushes them off constantly until they stage an intervention during lunch and even barb is concerned for her work wife. melissa leaves this lunch with some big feelings because little does everyone know melissa has been seeing someone this whole time. comes home to reader smoking a joint while cooking in the kitchen and reader says something along the lines of “you look like you could use this more than me” and they make a plan together to introduce reader to everyone at a 4th of july bbq

you gonna get what you ask for 🤪 Not edited in the slightest. I got places to be and people to see

Intervention

WC: ~2.35k

It’s been a year and a half since Melissa Schemmenti publicly said no to a marriage proposal. A year and a half since the fiery redhead had gone out with anyone, and she really doesn’t have any plans to start dating again- at least that’s what the Abbott crew thinks.

The truth is, the second grade teacher has been seeing you since the night she went to the casino and bar to blow off some steam after reuniting with Gary to return his things and get her stuff back.

You were at one of the slot machines when the redhead passed by you, laughing.

“What’s so funny, Red?” you asked as you looked up at her.

“You ain’t gonna win no money that way,” the woman stopped in her tracks to tell you. “C’mon. Let me show you how it’s done.”

That night, you stuck by her side as you watched her win thousands of dollars at one table alone, clearing out quite a few men.

It’s late when she finally threw in the towel. She offered to walk you out to you car, and you took her hand in your own.

“So,” you exhaled a small cloud of smoke from the cigarette the two of you were sharing. “What are you gonna do with all that money you just won, pretty lady?”

“Take you out on a date,” Melissa had replied cooly. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven?”

Neither of you looked back.

That was a year and three months ago. While your side of the family knew of your relationship with the teacher (and they absolutely adore her), her crew doesn’t have a single clue of your existence or rather large presence in Melissa’s life- despite the fact that you were now living together and your lives were intertwined.

So whenever anyone at Abbott tells Melissa that they found someone they think she might fancy, she just brushes them off.

“Janine, no offense, but if you think someone is worth dating, I would find them to be-”

“Hey,” Gregory cuts her off.

Melissa just shrugs. “My case in point. Greg, you know I love you like the black son I never had, but you’re boring as hell.”

“Ava, I am not about to go clubbing with you to pick up a man fifteen years my junior,” the redhead rolls her eyes.

“C’mon,” the principal chuckles. “They fun! They’re like energizer bunnies.”

“I barely have the energy to stand and get the remote from the other side of the room,” Melissa retorts as she opens her bottle of iced tea.

“I think you would like him!” Jacob pleads. “He saw your picture and said you were fine.”

“I am fine,” Melissa states, gesturing to her figure. “And I’m just as fine without a partner.”

It’s gotten to the point that even Barbara is concerned about her friend’s adamant denial to get herself back out there. So, the day that Melissa has recess duty, she brings it up to her coworkers.

“Now listen, I am not usually one for meddling in someone else’s love life, but don’t you think it’s concerning that Melissa flat out refuses to even attempt to put herself back out there?” the kindergarten teacher asks to the faculty room.

“Weird as hell,” Ava waltzes in, but having heard the question decides to chime in. “But aye, good for Schemmenti, realizing she don’t need no man in life.”

“I just find it odd…” Barbara taps her chin. “Melissa, while one with a tough exterior, loves love. She’s always wanted someone to spend her time with.”

“Maybe we should stage an intervention,” Jacob suggests. “To really show her that she’s good and healed from the failed proposal and to get back out there.

Gregory looks mildly impressed with that suggestion. “That might work.”

They have no idea that the entire time she’s supposed to be out monitoring the children on the blacktop, she’s smiling down at her phone like an idiot talking to you.

And when she comes home that day, she fully goes through with the things you two had texted about earlier.

The Abbott crew plans an intervention for Melissa- a banner, letters, all of it. When she comes into the staff room, smiling down at a midday text you had sent her, the rest of her colleagues are standing by the couch, looking somber.

“Fuck. Who died?” Melissa’s smile drops immediately.

“No one died, Melissa,” Barbara states.

“But we think a part of you might have,” Janine says dramatically, somberly.

“What the hell are youse talkin’ about?” thee redhead rolls her eyes. 

“Melissa, dear,” Barbara says softly, calmly. She makes her way over to her friend and takes her by the hand to guide her towards the seat they had put in the middle of the room.

One by one, they read the letters that they had all written, expressing their concern for their favorite fiery Italian teacher.

“Melissa,” the kindergarten teacher finishes up. “We all love you dearly, and while we understand that it takes some time to get over the heartache that Gary caused, this is a bit extreme. We are worried.”

“An’ I appreciate the thought and care that you guys put into this,” Melissa tells them with a sigh. “But I promise youse: I’m fine. I don’t need to get back out there.” She almost adds on that it’s because she’s happily seeing someone, and has been since three months after her split from the guy that filled the vending machine.

“Just… know that we’re all here through all of your seasons,” Jacob tells her. “The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“We do care about you,” Janine says softly, and she offers the redhead a hug. Melissa doesn’t necessarily want to embrace the shorter woman, but she goes into the arms of her colleague.

Gregory just gives her a nod that conveys his love for his coworker, to which she smirks and nods right back in his direction.

“Now, can we eat lunch?” the redhead chuckles.

As the day passes on, Melissa comes to realize just how much her coworkers care for her- their gesture, albeit absolutely ridiculous and dramatic, was heartfelt and full of love. Maybe she should just come clean about the relationship she’s in. Or she could just buy them all some Philly soft pretzels and soda instead to thank them. Yeah… that’s what she’ll do for now before she can talk to you about how the two of you want to go public about your being together.

She orders the pretzels to be delivered to the school before the day is done, and when everyone is reconvening back in the faculty room to grab their lunch bags before heading home, Melissa makes sure she’s the first one down there. She has the box on one of the tables, along with a some cans of soda. Whatever they don’t take, the redhead knows will be eaten and drank at home.

“Oi,” she calls to her friends. “Come get a pretzel and a soda as my thanks for carin’ about me so much.”

They all light up at the sight of the gesture, aside from Gregory.

“I do not like pretzels, or soda, and for that reason I will not take one,” the man says as his friends dive in. “But thank you.”

Melissa rolls her eyes. “I figured you would say that. Which is why I got you a bag of peanuts and a water.”

He looks mildly impressed and takes the offered items gratefully.

Once again, they all voice their love and care for the woman that gave them a salty treat before heading out for the night. Everyone except for Barbara. She waits for Melissa to clean up and gather her things before walking out with the woman.

“That was very sweet of you,” the kindergarten teacher nudges her friend.

Melissa huffs. “Oi. Don’t knock me like that.” She readjusts her grip on the small box of pretzels before sighing. “But it was just a thank you for caring.”

“We care about you a lot more than you know,” Barbara smiles. “And just so you know… you are a Philly eleven, and I do think you should get yourself back out there. I know it can be scary to put your heart back out there, but even if it ends in heartbreak and a few smashed in headlights, I will always be here to help you pick up the pieces.”

“I know, Barb,” the redhead says softly, so out of character. “Thank you.”

“Think about it!” the older woman says as she parts and heads off in the direction of her car.

With a sigh, Melissa unlocks her car and gets everything settled before slumping into the front seat.

Coming home with a treat, she texts you.

Is it you? You reply back.

She chuckles at that. She can practically see the smirk written on your face. You’ll see.

When she pulls in, she can smell you before she sees you. You’re clearing smoking, but she can also smell the delicious dinner that you’re making. 

The redhead makes her way into the house, deep in thought of how much her friends are looking out for her, and attempting to piece together how to approach you about the topic of coming out.

It’s odd. Your girlfriend makes her way into the kitchen and places the box of pretzels down, but she doesn’t make her way over to you the way that she usually does. Instead, she’s looking down at the food, brows furrowed and deep in thought. 

You turn the burner down to ensure that the food won’t burn or bubble over before making your way behind Melissa. You wrap the arm that isn’t holding the joint around her waist before holding it up to her lips and offering her some. Even in your somewhat inebriated state, you know something is up with her.

“You look like you could use this more than me,” you chuckle softly.

She shrugs, but does take a hit before blowing the smoke out.

“Hard day?” you ask her gently. “Need to be taken care of?”

Again, she shrugs. She doesn’t really know what to say. This is so unlike Melissa. Usually, she comes in huffing about the ridiculous antics of her boss, she bounces on her toes when she tells you the sweet things the kids had done or said, and she is more than willing to dish out the tea that was spilled in the staff lounge earlier that day.

“Mel?” you ask softly, taking a cheek in your hand and cupping it gently. You force her to look at you. “What happened today?”

She laughs softly, before full out cackling. This sudden change in mood startles you.

“Mel, babe, you’re scaring me,” you tell her. “What happened?”

She sits down and plucks the joint out of your hand. “The crew planned an intervention for me,” she tells you with a chuckle as you go back over to the stove.

You turn. “Oh?”

She nods, a playful smirk on her face.

“For?” you raise a brow. You turn your attention back to dinner. “Can I guess?”

“Sure, hun,” she laughs as she takes another drag.

  “The aggression that you email the parents with?” No. “The heeled boots hitting the linoleum tile too loudly when you’re pissed?” No. “The arson?” No. “The threats of a bare knuckle fist fight?”

“Jesus,” Melissa laughs. “When you list all of that out, I sound like a terrible person.”

“No,” you say quickly. “I love everything about you!”

“I know you do,” she chuckles. “But no. None of that.”

“Then what?”

“My love life.”

“Your love life?” you turn to look at her incredulously.

“My love life,” the redhead sighs. “They had a banner, they had letters, they had the chair in the middle of the room… everything. And for me. When I don’t even have a problem with my love life.”

“So why did you come in lookin’ all sad?”

“Not sad… just thoughtful. The things they said… it showed me how lucky I am to have coworkers that care for me as deeply as they do. So at the end of the day, I had pretzels for them to show my gratitude. And after, Barbara and I walked out together… and… how would you feel about telling people that we’re together?”

You finish stirring the food and plating it before bringing it over to the table where your girlfriend is sitting. You set the two dishes in front of her before sliding into her lap. You finish off the joint together before smiling.

“I’ve been ready,” you tell her. “I’ve just been waiting for you to be.”

“Yeah?” she asks you as she kisses your temple.

You nod before taking a bite of your dinner. Damn, between the two of you, you should open your own restaurant. “We’ve been together for over a year, living together since six months in, I don’t plan on going anywhere, and I would hope you don’t either. I think it’s time.”

“I think so too,” she says softly. “But with the end of the year comin’ up… we’re all crazy busy.”

“So we can organize something for after the school year?” you suggest. “Maybe a fourth of July barbecue?”

So that’s what the two of you do. Your girlfriend walks into school on the last day and tells her friends that she knows that don’t have anything going on for Fourth of July, and they better be at her house for a barbecue. They all look at her, clearly confused. No one- not even Barb- has been invited over to the house since Melissa and Gary broke up. Nevertheless, they don’t argue and all promise to be there.

They all come in one clump, and the faces that they make when you open the door draped around Melissa are priceless.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N,” she says proudly. “The reason that I have been declining all of the people you’ve suggested I date, and the reason I have not ‘put myself back out there’. I don’t gotta when I have her.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Endurance 1

Warnings: this fic will include obsessive behaviour, possible non/ducbon, bullying, and other elements which may not be specifically triggered. Please be cautious in continuing on to the story.

Character: Walter Marshall

Summary: A fellow gym go makes your workouts even more taxing.

Please reblog and leave some feedback, preferably in a reblog but you can always drop by my asks. I always love working in y'alls ideas with these AUs so I am so excited to hear from you.

As always, take care of yourself <3 be kind and be patient. Love you.

No tag lists. Please review my pinned and bio for guidelines.

You come out of the changing room and peek at the wall mirror as you pass. You admire your new bubblegum pink leggings and polka dot top. It’s a bit out there but you’ve seen neons in this place that make your retinas burn. Besides, you’ve never been shy when it comes to fashion. It’s not just your passion, it’s your job. 

It’s late enough that the bodies there are far and few between. You prefer the nights when the gym feels like a ghost town. The air is quiet but not stagnant.  

Your water bottle swings on its handle from your hand as your bouncy steps keep in time with the boppy music thrumming in your earbuds. Your workout mix is a nice blend of retro and contemporary bass hits. You catch yourself humming and stamp it down. Sometimes, you forget other people can perceive you, not that there’s many around to so.  

You find an empty mat. They all are. You put your bottle down and start your stretches. Your late night sessions help clear your mind though it never really stops. In your mind, you’re seeing pleats, seams, and ruffles. 

Your body moves without thinking. It’s all muscle memory. You’re no gym rat, you don’t go that hard, just enough to loosen up your muscles. Your note overly swoll as the young ones call it. You’re fit enough for a light jog and the stairs don’t leave you winded like they used to. 

After your stretches, you slurp loudly from the straw of your water bottle, walking with it still between your lips as you head for an elliptical. You can just let the repetitive motion take over. You pop your lips off the tub and slip the bottle into the little plastic holder on the side of the machine. 

As you climb up, you see another figure across the floor. The man sits on the end of a weight bench. For a moment, it looks, even feels, like he’s watching you. From there, you can’t see very well. You don’t wear your glasses in the gym since you lost a pair to a hungry leg press. 

You can make out dark hair and his burly form. Hazy but wide enough to clock. Most people around here are stacked. You’re too casual for all that. And you like a piece of tiramisu with your Friday lattes. 

You pick your speed and start to climb. You cling to the machine and rock your head to the music. Once more, your throat vibrates and you have to remind yourself to stop. You can’t help it, you love Destiny’s child. Does that date you? For someone working in fashion, you can’t ever risk that. 

You zone out, vision blurring as you let your body do the work. The sweat speckles and slicks across your skin. Damn, you might just be bootylicious after this work out. 

Your fitbit rumbles and you look down. You’re in the zone. You keep going until you hit thirty minutes and slow down. You cool off for ten minutes and swipe up your bottle, sucking on it greedily as you head back to the mats. 

You swing out your arms and stretch your legs in slowly lunges. You bend forward, touching each toe with opposite hand, lingering with your ass up as you brace your hips. A sudden clang has you standing straight so fast you nearly topple onto your butt. 

You throw out your arms to catch your balance as you let out a pathetic, ‘woah-oh-oh'. You look over at the man as begins reps with the heavy dumbbells. You’ve never gotten above the tens. His blue eyes flash in your direction and you give a sheepish smile. 

You don’t want to seem weird so you return to your stretches. Arms up, lean to one side, then the other. You hear a strange rumble, like thunder, and look over at the man as he continues to work his traps, staring at you. You could even call it a glare. 

You tap your ear bud as you face him, “sorry?” 

“Do you have to make that noise?” He snarls. 

Your brows pop up. We’re you humming again? Oops. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realise I was,” you smile and before you can tap play, he scoffs.  

“Typical,” he grumbles as alternates to biceps. 

He’s built. He’s arms are bigger than your head. Probably. You don’t think he’d let you compare for scale. You drop your hand without tapping. 

You get down and extend your legs in front of you. His breaths underline your movement as you bend one leg over the other and push your straight arm against it as you twist. As you do the other side, facing him, his gaze flicks over again. 

“You put more time into choosing that outfit than you do working out,” he shakes his head. 

You blanch. Oh wow. You must have been really out of tune if he’s that grumpy. You give a tight-lipped smile and keep going. He’s not the first grouch you’ve dealt with. Your editor is a chronic miser. 

You straight arms and legs and bend to touch your toes. You then pull your arms back and plant your hands. You lift your pelvis and torso and lean your head back, raising yourself in a straight line as you hang your head back. 

“Form is off,” he mutters. 

You lower back down and look at him again. 

“Oh, uh, do you have any tips?” You ask curiously. He grimaces. You push your shoulders up and tilt your head, “well, if you think of any, I'd be happy to work on it. I’d hate to hurt myself.” 

You get to your knees and groan as you push yourself to your feet. He tuts as gets down to plank, still gripping the weights. He lifts the left and puts it back down, then the right. You watch him for a minute, impressed by his strength. Your wary of lifting too much, you don’t trust yourself. 

“You think your cute,” he sneers under his breath. 

“Um, sometimes,” you hover across from him, “I just thought you might know more than me--” 

“Of course I do,” he puffs between lifts. 

“Mm, okay, well, I’d love to learn--” 

“They got trainers for that,” he snips as he finishes his reps and puts his knees down. 

“Right, um, sorry to bother then. I was only... asking,” you turn and grab your bottle. 

You flip the top up again and slurp. You get to the bottom, sucking air loudly up before giving up. He huffs and stands with the weights, slamming them back on the rack. 

“Do you have to make so much goddamn noise?” He stands straight and turns to you, crossing his thick arms. You stop short and part your lips. 

“It’s empty, I didn’t--” 

“It’s not the only thing’s that empty,” he taps his skull, “go back to the mall, girl.” 

You scrunch your nose, “you don’t have to be rude, mister.” 

“Honesty is a gift,” he snorts. 

You pull your chin back. You didn’t mean to annoy him and you apologised already. You’re a nice person but you don’t appreciate his tone. 

“Well, if I’m being honest,” you put your hands on your hips, “you’re not very nice.” 

He chortles as a crease forms in his forehead, “and you’re not as cute as you think.” 

“What does it matter what I think I am?” You challenge, “I didn’t ask you.” 

“No, you just float around like some airhead and disturb everyone else,” he accuses. 

You peer around, “there’s no one here.” 

He drops his arms and lifts his chin. He steps forward and you waver, just a bit, put off by his size.  

“I’m here,” he says. 

You blink. What does that mean? 

He takes another step and you stare at him, necks and cheek burning. His words strike an epiphany. It’s just you and him. He’s a lot stronger than you. 

Another step and you put your hands up, “mister, you better not come any closer.” 

He scoffs again, “or what? Are you going to cry?” 

You pout and shake your head, “no, but I... I could scream. Or bite.” 

He shakes his head, “what do you think I’m gonna do, girl? That’s what you do, isn’t it? Make yourself the victim. You need the attention to make you feel special.” 

He’s getting closer. 

“I said stay away,” you project your voice as best you can, “I’m not afraid of you, mister.” 

He chuckles and tilts his head. He stops, just a step away from you, “aren’t you?’ 

Your eyes meet his and you stand trapped in the snare of his glower. His blue eyes are deep and fiery, his chiseled face is framed by dark curls and a thick beard, and his chin is cleft handsomely. He’s fearsome, a bear in man’s flesh. You’re no more than helpless hare. 

You back away and his mouth slants in triumph. He’s won. You turn and gulp, gripping tight your bottle as your sneaker squeaks loudly. You scurry away, buzzing with adrenaline. 

“That’s right, you run away, girl, run as fast as you can,” he calls after you, “not very, I’m sure.” 

You keep a brisk walk as you hurry towards the locker room and push inside. Your heart is hammering and your breathless as you reach your locker. You put the bottle on the bench and clutch the sides of your head. You’re dizzy as you try to get a rein on your frazzled nerves. 

You thought you left the bullies behind in high school, over a decade ago. In that second, you’re right back in your teenage years. Your eyes sting with tears and your stomach churns with humiliation. That glimmer of insecurity creeps back into you. 

No, no. You’re an adult. You’re a grown woman. You have a job and a life you love. You’re nothing they said you were. You proved them all wrong and you will prove that butthead wrong too.��

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 13

With two back-to-back shows in Paris, with a new song added to the set list, Kara expects to largely watch Lena sleep. But somehow, the morning after the first show, Kara is woken early by movement beyond the shared door of their suites.

Upon knocking, she receives a bright "come in!" and opens the door to find Lena bustling around the room. She's dressed in leggings and spandex top, complete with brightly colored sneakers on her feet. Her face is bare of makeup, but retains the dewey vibrancy only youth can give.

"Good morning!" Lena greets, bouncing to Kara with more energy than she has any right to have. "Did you sleep well?"

"Sure," Kara returns drolly. "But not enough--- how are you even awake? We only got back at 3am!"

Lena laughs. "I've got to get a workout in before the meet and greet later." She lifts one of her earbuds in one hand, nestling its pair in her ear with the other. "Wanna join?"

"The meet and greet, or the workout?" Kara asks dubiously.

"Why not both?"

Why not both. She's here with the express purpose of supporting Lena, but now she's faced with the dilemma of deciding whether that included running. She hasn't seriously trained since she played volleyball in college... she'd probably trip over her own feet.

"Sure," she finds herself saying, before her brain can catch up. When it does, she hesitates. "Oh-- I didn't bring--"

"I've got some looser gear that should fit," Lena responds easily. She cocks a grin. "Or you can just spot me."

"Yeah... I should probably do that. I can run out and grab some gear later today. At least some sneakers."

She does take Lena up on the offer of her looser workout gear-- sweatpants that were more capris on Kara than not, and a tank top that would have sagged on Lena, but comfortably snugs against Kara's curves.

"Oooh," Lena says when she sees her. She trots over and gives Kara a peck on the lips. "I like this look."

"You speak of this to no one," Kara warns, more self conscious of her bare ankles than anything else.

"What happens in Paris, stays in Paris," Lena promises, then tilts her head towards the other room. "Come on."

Kara expects them to use whatever gym amenities the hotel offers its guests, but it turns out the suite of rooms includes its own exercise area, complete with treadmill, freeweights, and aerobic equipment.

"I prefer not to use the shared amenities downstairs," Lena explains lightly. "I don't want to hog the machines. Or disturb anyone else's workout."

Seeing Kara's curious look, Lena gives her a mysterious smile. "It'll make sense later."

Lena trains like a professional athlete. Kara is exhausted just watching, and almost an hour in, it seems like Lena is only getting started. At least, Kara reassures herself, the woman sweats like a normal human.

"What?" Lena pants as she pistol squats with a fifteen pound dumbell under her chin.

"You really like this stuff, don't you?" she asks. Watching from the weight bench, Kara can see that this isn't just a means to an end. She enjoys it.

Lena smiles. "Yeah, I do. I can't help it."

Her enthusiasm is infectious, as proven by the fact Kara is compelled to join Lena in her floor exercises. Core had always been her strong suit in college, but it's clear from her lackluster plank and crunch stamina that she's lost any and all conditioning she might have had.

Even so, instead of feeling discouraged, Lena's delighted giggle, Kara looks forward to her next attempt. The workout ends with cardio on the treadmill-- or so Kara thinks.

"I gotta put these in," she warns. "That okay?"

Kara nods. Lena's mystery smile returns for a brief moment, before the treadmill beeps on and Lena starts with a brisk walk. After five minutes Lena expertly keeps up with an increasing pace, until her sneakers are pounding out a heavy rhythm at a rate Kara can scarcely fathom. Only the most dedicated of players on Kara's volleyball team had been able to keep up that kind of pace for very long, yet there Lena is, strides long and even and surefooted.

Then the singing starts. Lena begins with a scale or two, then a few vocal warm ups. Kara recognizes the first song of Lena's setlist from the opening note, and from there can only listen in awe as Lena belts through her entire concert from start to finish.

It sounds as steady as any true performance, the notes strong and clear without any shortness of breath. It's... astounding.

When the treadmill finally slows to a walk once more, Kara comes around to rest her forearms on the rail. She looks at Lena expectantly, who is patently pleased with herself.

She shrugs with false modesty. "It's sort of my superpower."

In answer, Kara crooks a beckoning finger, prompting Lena to lean down and receive a kiss for her efforts. Lena doesn't even break stride, but she does fumble for the off button, slowing to a stop as the kiss persists, deepening.

When Lena hops off the machine, Kara has half a mind to press Lena up against it to kiss her senseless-- a temptation she fails to resist when Lena's hand slides up her shirt to run warm fingers over Kara's ribs.

"Jesus," Kara mutters, pausing for breath. "Lena, you... I don't know if I--"

"We go at your pace, darling," Lena murmurs back. "Just know that I really, really want--"

Kara swallows her next words with another, deeper kiss. Helpless to the attraction tugging under her ribs, Kara lets her fingers wander up Lena's side, until her palm cups Lena's breast. It earns her a heady moan into her mouth, and a tightening of Lena's arms around her neck, pulling her closer--

"Lena? We have two hours before the meet and greet!"

Jess' voice calls, innocent yet conspicuous behind a door that stays shut. Lena sags, the moment broken but not it's tension.

"Thank you, Jess!" she calls back, not bothering to unloop her arms from Kara's shoulders. "I'll be in the shower shortly."

Jess' footsteps pad away, but Lena doesn't resume their previous activities.

"We don't have a lot of time..." she starts conspiratorially, voice low. "Not enough to do *this* justice. But..." Her green eyes darken with desire. "Think we can make up some time by doubling up on the shower?"

Kara reaches up and grasps Lena's hand, bending to capture another kiss.

"There's only one way to find out."

They do not make up any time whatsoever.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Rivalry To Romance

velvette x f!reader

Summary: You worked in cosmetics at the Vee tower alongside Velvette, unfortunately you’ve never gotten along. You found her obnoxious and she found you to be a pest. However you struggle with yourself on whether you truly hate her or just can’t accept your true emotions.

Warnings: Fem reader, reader throws things again so does velvette, valentinos presence yuck, suggestive but nothing serious. No mention of readers hairtype, bodytype or skin colour, shorter than i originally wanted womp but I think that’s it but lmk

Word count: 2.5k

we need more velvette i love her so much and there’s like no info on her character or back story at least that i could find woomp womp im trying clear up what i have drafted but sheesh im so picky and a perfectionist about it i wish i was a writing machine that it could come directly out of my brain like i see it y’know?

“I fucking hate her!” You screeched tossing make up across the room at your assistant. “Please, calm down, my head hurts.” Angel whined from your couch as you paced around him, your assistant booking it after the second thing, that being a vase, was thrown.

“I can't, she's intolerable, seriously. A brat.” You grit plopping down onto the cushion beside him. The two of you were in the Vee tower, you being what Velvette would call ‘the shadow of the vees’, you got in on the triangle based on accessibility; for the Vees that is. You were a cosmetic creator and produced varying products for demons of all kinds, not only was it beneficial for Valentino's pornstars but Velvette’s models.

When you were a self employed business it was still very lucrative, and getting around quickly. Gaining the opportunities to work with overlords, sinners you never expected as well as selling and gaining quicker than you could’ve imagined. It wasn’t long until Velvette had caught onto the rage, and that’s how you ended up in the tower working alongside her.

It was terrible from the start; you weren’t some meek little demon, yet Velvette treated you like you were some Imp! You hated her bratty, disrespectful loud mouth and you never failed to let her know.

BIting your nails down too low without realizing, Angel grabbed your hand successfully stopping you, and leaned forward. “Hey listen I know how it is to have a sucky boss. Heh, literally.” Angel snickered to himself while you muttered that she wasn’t your boss. “But if i’m being honest, it sounds like sexual frustration,” He twiddled his fingers at you while a sly smile pulled at his lips.

You gaped at him, head falling forward in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me, hah, no fucking way dude!” You exclaimed, leaning back, you sighed frustrated at the conversation. “Oh shit, gotta go toots, boss is calling. Thanks for letting me up, see ya later.”

You waved by to Angel watching him go. Sitting with your elbows on your knees you stared off into space. Sure you suppose you admired her, sure, she was pretty, occasionally sure you’d check her out admiring how the clothes fit her, but that was purely platonic! Velv was a fashion designer, of course she knows how to accentuate her natural beauty.

And perhaps there were times when you couldn’t quite decide what you felt for her questioning your intentions second guessing your actions. Sometimes as you gazed at her while she worked, you wanted to ease her up a little, relax her from the stress whether that be from praise, a gentle rub or kiss, or something a little more promiscuous; you simply wanted to be her relief.

Other times you wanted to fight her and bitch her out, and then fuck her? You actually didn’t know and it drove you insane, but Angel was the first to spot the way you acted, overly aggressive.

You groaned, frustration emitted from you very clearly as you tugged at your hair. Standing you walk quickly toward Velvette’s and yours’ work sections on the tower's mid floor. Velvette stood at a table when you walked in, she only barely turned her head to you, too busy studying fabrics and colours.

“What’s the pretentious brat got cooking today?” You say walking up beside her looking down at the table. Rolling her eyes she turned to you hand on her hip. “Can you piss off? I’ve got shit to do, real work, not lazing around with a whore.”

Rolling your eyes right back at her, you looked down to the table. “Angels no more of a whore than that filthy moth.” You muttered fingering the fabrics, eyes dancing around the blueprints for an outfit.

“What’re these for?” You ask, meeting her gaze, a bored look plagued her face, but she loosened up slightly at the mention of her work. “These are the new blueprints for our outfits for the upcoming broadcast Vox has planned. He wants to market tech, pornos, clothing and your cosmetics so everything’s gotta be right.”

Velvette looked down harshly at the things laid out in front of her, you could see the gears working in her head as her eyes flicked around the different blueprints, fabrics and rough drafts. You hummed, flicking through a particular set of blueprints that caught your eye. “I’m sure you’ll do great hun, always do.” You muttered absentmindedly, barely focusing on the praise that came from your lips.

Velvette’s head jerked back a bit, eyes watching you. She wasn’t expecting such softly said words to come from you so suddenly, but she definitely didn’t mind it. “Do you want something specific?” Looking toward her you shrugged, trying to ignore the yearning you had to be nearer.

“Just a dress, suppose the only request I have is that I look the part.” You didn’t mean for it to come off sad however, it did, and Velvette felt the rare sting of guilt ping past her heart. She was in fact the one who fought with you the most on who was worthy in the tower, but she always felt you were trying to replace her as “the guru”.

The fight you had earlier was present in your mind as you stood there, it was dumb another thing that sent you spiralling. You stomped off and straight into Angel, thank goodness for that because his presence calmed you surprisingly. The fight was about time slots with models, mainly because one model had been held up by Velvette because she was being a snooty princess again about what the model wore, meanwhile time was ticking on how much time you had to do said model's makeup.

Which ended up spiralling into a screaming cat fight, where you tossed things at her and she tossed them back slinging a slew of colour insults at you as she did so. Normally you and Velvette never apologised but as you stood there beside her looking over stuff you felt as though the moment of peace was close enough to an apology.

“Do you really wanna go to this?” You asked breathing in deeply, catching hints of her perfume that left a warm familiar feeling in your chest. “Hm not really, but we have to.” Picking up navy blue colours, she stacked the square fabrics together.

Swallowing you ask; “What’s your favourite colour?” Stunned Velvettes hands stalled their actions, her eyes meeting yours. You were waiting looking neutrally at her, you simply wanted to know. It was easy to see Voxs was arrays of blues, Val’s pink and red, you fancied emerald and sea greens, and her.. you didn’t know, hot pink?

“I fancy whites, purples, plums…” Trailing off finger to her mouth in thought, she nodded one sternly. “White and plum.” You smile ever so slightly it was a decent conversation for sure. But it definitely didn’t help you inner fight about your feelings for her.

~

Today was the day of the broadcast, the lot of you ventured to Valentinos floor of the tower, doing it up for a big show. There were tons of tables set up, lighting, cameras; the porn stars were done up thanks to you and Velv, they sat on a plush couch their section was going to be an ‘interview with the stars’ no doubt being entirely fake lies. Angel was a part of the cast, much to your dismay, you’d rather him be far from Valentino, but that wasn’t possible. Another area was new improved tech, with tech nerds ready to present and push the new models Voxtech had made.

Off to the back was Velvette’s section where various manikins stood cladded in Velvette’s best work, there were also models present around waiting to pose with the manikins. Your area felt blander than the rest, your cosmetics sat on varying different platforms that lifted them aesthetically, and you had a few head models with you, cameras focused in on only their eyes and lips for the occasional shot. In the middle of the room was where you, Velvette, Vox and Valentino would be.

The lot of you were going to be standing tall with wide smiles, the only one who was set to talk was Vox, the rest of you were just their to claim name to your things. Velvette was running around taking Sinstagram stories and pictures of everything around, building anticipation and hype for everything to come.

You watched her bounce around every now and again yelling at a worker or model about their place here, before getting back to puttering around. She wore a white dress with hearts at the bottom, and her hair was done up in a classic poof instead of her straightened pigtails. “Admiring the goods?” Angel asks, scaring the shit out of you, gasping you grabbed your chest in shock. “Fuck Angel don’t do that to me, and ye- wait what?”

Angel cackled an accusatory finger pointed to you. “Oh cmon! Even Val knows you’re into her, and that’s him.” You stared in disbelief before shaking your head no rapidly. “How would he even know? We barely spend time near each other, I hate him more than Velv.”

Angel scoffed, crossing two sets of his arms he leant against the wall next to him. “Please Velvette’s always ranting about how annoying you are over the phone, telling Val when Vox is probably too sicka her to hear it! Then she goes off saying how you can’t be nice and how you always make it a mission to come and pester er’ and Val said it’s because you wanted to fuck her!” Angel exclaimed slyly leaning forward into you and than backward away.

“That’s not true, we just can’t get along.” Like the devil heard your words, Velvette skipped up to you three, pulling the two of you into her. “Alright! The bitches! That’s more like it!” Velvette shouted, snapping a picture, Angel defaulted to his actor ways posing lustfully at the camera, meanwhile you just smiled unbelievably at Velvette. Once the picture was taken she wasted no time stepping back and sending off the post with a series of different hashtags.

“You look happy today?” You ask more than say watching Velvette smile around the room. “Of course people have stayed quiet, and not been a dickhead all day. Not to mention Vox and Val aren’t in moods.” You nodded in agreement, eyes casting briefly over to the TV who walked around checking the different cameras while Val smoked in the back.

Angel not so subtly snuck off giving your back a shove closer towards Velvette. Even if you could admit to yourself you felt more than platonic emotions for her, it would be extremely hard to accept it or attempt to make a move when you didn’t even know her sexuality.

She’d never seemed interested in Vox or Valentino, but you’ve not seen her eyeing women either. It made you more uncomfortable to ponder the future of accepting your feelings when you could just be cruel and ignore them. “What’s up with you spacey?” Velvette suddenly asked her phone off facing toward the floor.

You anxiously fiddled with your short dress wondering if now would be a good time to start something. “Nothing Velvette, just nerves i guess.” Velvette rolled her eyes, shaking her head disapprovingly. “You’ll be fine, always are anyways. We don’t do shit, it’s all Vox.”

Fair enough. Although that’s true it didn’t really matter considering it wasn’t what was really bothering you. “Are you straight?” You blurt suddenly, hand jerking upward to cover your mouth. Velvette’s eyebrow raised a ‘huh’ falling from her lips.

With a decision in mind, you couldn’t deny it, knowing that even Val saw something you know how you can’t hide it. The daydreams you have of her warm skin next to yours in the morning, the friendship you wish you had, the desire to have her lipstick smeared against your lips, wanting to post cheesy couple pictures together all over Sinstagram.

“Uhh, yeah, are you straight because I haven’t ever seen you around anybody, like, ahem, that.” You stutter out staring at her trying to gauge every little emotion on her face. “Suppose I could be considered, but i fuck who i want no matter the package.” She finally replied, returning to herself after spacing out, looking calmer than you.

“Would ya fuck me?” Scratching the back of your neck as her eyes scanned your face rapidly, trying to read you, trying to tell if you were serious. “Yeah, if you weren’t such a bitch.” You hum watching her once more, this time she looked a little meeker, shifting from foot to foot, her gaze casted downward.

“And what about love? Y’know not just wanting to have a hook up?” You asked a little apprehension evident in your voice, you craned your neck back trying to distance yourself subconsciously.

Softly you felt Velvettes gentle hand on your shoulder, focusing all your attention on her, you watched as her face turned out to the side, only looking at you through her peripheral. Her other hand crawled up to your other shoulder, before drifting softly to your neck, sending shivers down your spine and straight to your toes.

Velvette was still at fully extended arms length, so you stepped forward, cupping her cheeks gently like she was made of the fragilest material. Now eye to eye the two of you simply stared waiting, while invading eachothers space. Cautiously you leaned forward thankfully being her height, you hand your eyes closed already hoping she’d get the message, and either pull away running or indulge.

You were more than shocked to feel her lipstick covered lips meet with yours, soft yet eager. You kissed her back slowly, trying to convey the emotions and feelings you felt without speaking, the apology you wanted to say but didn’t know how.

Pulling you closer by the neck, you fell into her slightly, wrapping your arms around her like she was your world, fully absorbed in the passionate kiss you were sharing. Just as the kiss turned slightly heated, tongues introducing and slipping past the barrier of eachothers mouth Vox screamed. “You’ve got Velvettes makeup on your face, FUCK, why?! Why?! Five minutes before we’re live!” Jumping apart the two of you looked toward Vox who was already glitching out, meanwhile Val just stood smuggly sucking his pipe.

“Don’t worry he’s just mad that he now owes me one hundred dollars, losers weepers,” Val breathed his smoke wafting around the TV’s head. Velvette threw the bird at Vox before turning to you pulling out a handkerchief. “Weren’t you calling someone geriatric, now you’re pulling out handkerchiefs?” You teased, her hand coming up to wipe her black lipstick that stained your face.

“Oh piss off, or we’re both fired,” She scolded but there was no malice in her words like before making your heart flutter. “So how long before this gets out, our little before the air make out sesh?” You inquire as she handed the cloth to you, you wiping her smeared lipstick just as she did for you. “Based on the vibrations from my phone, not long.”

[milykins]

This is my first time writing one of these things, so be gentle. I had the idea of how each of the guys would give the reader a hot drink after a hard day. Everyone is aged up in their 30s.

TMNT Headcanon- Hot Drinks - TMNT X female reader

You've had a rough week. Work has been beyond frustrating. You're under-staffed and you've been denied a raise for the second time since you've worked there. To make matters worse, it starts to rain on the way home.

🧡🐢🧡

Mikey jumps up immediately upon seeing the state you're in. He immediately moves to grab you a towel and tells you to go change into some dry clothes. When you emerge, towel-drying your hair, you'll see he's put a very elaborate pillow fort together and has two hot drinks on a tray.

Mikey is a hot chocolate guy, and his recipe is carefully guarded secret. One sip will make it clear that it is the richest, most decadent hot chocolate you've ever tasted. He's also included a can of whipped cream and little bowls with several toppings which include mini marshmallows and sprinkles.

He hands you a cup and asks him to tell you about your day.

💜🐢💜

Donnie starts fussing over you as soon as you walk through the door. He quickly ushers you to the bathroom so you can take a shower and bring up your core body temperature. You do as he says while he brings you a new set of dry clothes.

Once you're out, he pushes a cup of coffee into your hands, made just the way you like it. Donnie is the master of coffee. He's put together a coffee machine that pretty much does it all. It will make lattes, cafe mochas, and even hot chocolate, which Mikey deems a travesty because his is obviously better. Regardless, the coffee he gives you is freshly brewed and you sip it while he rambles on about how important it is to dress properly for the elements and how drinking something hot is the best way to warm up.

You both end up cuddling on the couch while he listens to you rant about your workweek.

💙🐢💙

Leo is the one who quietly wraps a blanket around your shoulders and walks you to the bedroom so you can change. He tells you to meet him in his meditation room once you're finished.

You softly pad your way there once you're dressed. Leo has his teapot ready. It is a beautifully patterned Japanese teapot with a blue swirling design. Leo had found the teapot broken in several pieces while scavenging and had repaired it using the gold kintsugi method. The repair process he tells you is a reminder to embrace your flaws rather than hide them for you are beautiful regardless.

Leo has an entire cupboard dedicated to his many blends of loose-leaf tea. His favourites are jasmine and gunpowder green. He's chosen a gentle blend for you, not too caffeinated, and has included a small bottle of honey so you can sweeten it as you like.

He pours it into a matching teacup and asks how your day went.

❤️🐢❤️

Upon seeing you, Raph knows you need something stronger than some weak-ass tea. He tells you to go change and goes to fix something up for you.

Raph, by no means, is an expert in the kitchen, but he knows how to use Donnie's fancy coffee machine. He doesn't actually drink a lot of coffee. He prefers his protein shakes in the morning. He knows you like lattes, though, and asks the machine to make one of those. He sweetens it with some caramel syrup and adds a shot of Bailey's. He sips it and gets a smile of satisfaction, deeming it perfect.

Instead of you finding him, he finds you in a state of undress. He smirks slightly and admires you a moment while he waits for you to finish dressing. He hands you the cup warning you that it might be hot and to blow on it slightly.

The shot of Bailey's warms you up instantly, and it's delicious with a fine layer of froth on top. You joke that he should try doing some latte art next time. He laughs and says fat chance of that. You both move to the bed and cuddle while he asks how you're doing.

End

Edit* this is how I picture Leo's teapot

[eggtartz]

Hey!! May I please request Wakasa, Izana, Mitsuya and Baji protecting the reader from a pervert? Maybe someone taking pictures of the reader at the gym, or trying to take a picture under the reader's skirt, or trying to grope the reader in the subway/bus, etc.

a/n : thankyou for requesting anon 🫶🏻

masterlist

: everyone is a menace, sexual harassment

baji keisuke

- it was recess so baji stayed in class while his other classmates was having lunch normally at the school cafe so he wanted to have a quick learning lesson

- after a while baji saw there was ten more minutes before recess was over but he haven't seen you yet so he walked down the halls to your class

- he heard some whimpering coming from your class and tried to open the door but the door was locked

- he intended to shrugged the whimpering when he couldn't hear any voices anymore until he heard a voice. your voice.

- baji didn't even hesitate to kick down the door and saw two of the seniors cornering you, while you were crying and holding a thin broom stick

- baji lunged himself on the guys, making a mess of the chairs and tables there while you try to calm him down but baji was ruthless with his punches

- it wasn't until ryusei held back baji that he calmed down a little, now looking at the two seniors bloody on the floor

- the teacher came and the two of you got released early (baji due to some injuries)

- "im sorry keisuke, i couldn't reach you"

- "idiot, that's not your fault. im sorry i didn't came there earlier i should've know"

imaushi wakasa

- it was a regular day where you would hang at the gym with benkei and wakasa but wakasa had work today so you were with benkei

- "hey y/n do you mind if i run downstairs to run the coffee machine a bit?"

- "oh no keizo go ahead!" so benkei went downstairs while you continued doing some squats

- you were wearing earbuds to concentrate more on your breathing and the music blasted through your ears too so you weren't aware of your surroundings

- there was this person behind you, they weren't too close but close enough to see you weren't paying attention towards your surroundings so they took out their phone

- after glancing around to make sure the coast is clear, they took photos of your sweating thighs and clicking sounds were heard

- they moved to take pictures of your chest too until their wrist were restrained

- "enjoying your time prick? delete those pictures"

- "wakasa? im sorry it's just-"

- "shut the fuck up and delete those pictures"

- the person hurriedly deleted the lewd photos but wakasa wasn't content in case there were backup files so he took the phone and took out the battery and memory card

- he tossed the empty phone and sent a glare to the person while approaching you

- "oh waka kun?! you're back?"

- "yes honey, how about we take a break and have some tea yeah?"

izana kukorawa

- you were going to one of his meetings to bring him so snacks but he was a bit busy so you waited outside the hideout

- after a while kakucho came to fetch you and escorted you inside the meeting room where you saw izana at the table

- "im sorry i couldn't come and get you love, i was busy" he said, looking up from his paperwork

- "oh it's okay izana, continue your meeting and i'll sort out these snacks at the table how do think about that?"

- "oh the members would like that so much love, thankyou" izana continued his work and soon the meeting started

- you have packed a lot of desserts because izana's members loves sweet stuff so you took some plates from the cupboard and stack the desserts on them

- you took out the plates and placed them on the table, in front of each member

- you were happy with their reactions because each one of them gobbled the dessert quickly and smiled a lot

- that was until one particular member slapped your butt, him laughing afterwards

- "your desserts are so sweet, i wonder does that ass taste the same huh?"

- the room fell silent as your face was clearly horrified but it couldn't match your boyfriend's face

- "say that again?" he said while slowly pushing his chair

- "what? what's wrong?"

- a chair flew at his direction, knocking him out

- "say that again at my partner, punk. i'll murder you" izana said with bloodshot eyes and erratic breathing as if he's controlling his temper

- shion and mucho dragged him outside and did the beatings (kakucho gave them a look to do the work, not trusting izana to do so)

- "love? come here" izana said softly to you

- you approached him and he took off his red jacket and tied it on your waist

- "let's go home" he whispered in your ear, the only person hearing his vulnerable tone was you

takashi mitsuya

- you and mitsuya just fetch his younger siblings from school and now was riding the subway while the two girls were giggling while eating their ice cream

- suddenly the subway got a little packed so you had to stand a bit further from your boyfriend and his siblings to give space to the new people who entered

- mitsuya gestured you to sit at his seat but you refused, luna and mana were sitting in his lap because there were way too many people

- you were standing about three steps away from them when a man came behind you

- the man nearly sniffed your neck at how close he was but distanced away from him

- you didn't mind it because you thought he did it by accident

- "oniichan, the creepy guy is looking at y/n's skirt. isn't that bad?" little luna said, remembering what his brother used to teach her that people seeing under her skirt is bad

- "that's right luna, can you sit here and be good girl while i see y/n?" mitsuya let the two siblings occupied the seat while he walked to you and the man

- "so? what's with the phone?" mitsuya asked the man behind you. he hid it in time that you couldn't see it but mitsuya saw it

- "what phone?"

- "c'mon i saw that. how about you delete those pictures and i'll forgive you"

- "what's got you so riled up who're you her girlfriend?" the man asked

- "yeah im her girlfriend. can you delete those pictures now while im nicely asking?"

- the man ignored mitsuya and mitsuya was enraged but he didn't wanted to lose it because his sister's were there

- he quickly snatched the phone in the man's right pocket and went to the window and guess what he did?

- yup he threw it out the window, out from a moving subway

- "you fucker! my phone!"

- "i asked nicely and you refused so you give me no choice. oh look at that it's our stop. c'mon mana, luna. y/n?" mitsuya hold your hand and dragged you out from the packed subway

- the man stand there shocked while watching the four of you come out from the subway, mana mockingly stick out her tongue at the man

[flowerfreya]

Weaponized Incompetence

“Do you know how to clean”

Part 1

Pairing : John Price x Reader

John and you are going through a rough patch , one that may not be solvable

John is going to win his wife back. How? He doesn’t know but it will be done. He loves you with all his heart and he hasn’t been showing it in the best way. He put you on the back burning , a constant always in his life that he didn’t nurture or pet. Never stimulated. Didn’t think he needed too. Thinking paying the bills, having money, and not cheating was enough to be a good husband. (It wasn’t).

Price has been cleaning all day, trying to make things right. He brought flowers for the house. Vacuumed every room , mopped the kitchen and bathroom and started laundry.

He thought he had a great day, so he decided to take leave for the next three weeks. He hasn’t told you yet but he thinks that you will be excited.

That’s not the case.

When you step into the house, Price is standing at the door waiting for your reaction, if you have any at all.

Looking around and then seeing his face and looking likes he’s waiting for something, “What’s going on ?” , you say with a little chuckle.

“I cleaned up” , he says, lifting his arms up and turning his body in a look around motion.

“Oh…what did you clean up?” , you ask, starting to walk around the house.

“I vacuumed, mopped and started the laundry”.

“Did you put down carpet freshener?”

“No”

“What did you use to mop?”.

“Just water”.

“Did you separate the clothes by light and dark?”.

“No”.

John looks up and sees you just exasperated and shaking your head.

“I honestly don’t know why I’m surprised”, you walk over to the washing machine and stop it, pulling out a light pink shirt that you know is for sure supposed to be white.

“John, you basically just pushed dirt around when you mop with just soap you know that right”, you start getting the mop bucket out with soap.

He thinks that’s found a solution , “maybe if you write me a l-”, he stops talking when you whip your neck and stare at him.

“Are you a child or an adult?”, you ask.

“An adult”, he answers.

“I’m not making you a list to clean, you're in the military, you should know how to clean…do you know how to clean?”, you turn off the water and turn your whole body towards him., “are you going to answer the question?”

John clears his throat,”yes, I know how to clean”, he doesn’t understand why you are so angry. He thinks that he did a lot for you today, shit almost everyday he does a lot for you and you being angry at him and not telling him why is starting to grate his nerves.

“What did I do to you”, he snaps, “because you are angry at me and I don’t understand why”

“I guess it’s because you act like a child and I’m tired of it”, you snap back.

“I heard what you said to your friend over the phone, do you actually feel like that?”, he ask, moving closer to you. He doesn’t want to argue with you. He wants to be better for you. He wants you to want him not because of convenience , but because you love him.

“Am I tired of cleaning of your shit, shit that I have AKSED you multiple times to clean up….?”, you answer him.

You start to cry, an angry frustrated cry , “I work too you know , I’m tired all the time, and when I get home from work and see nasty dip bottles on the floor I get frustrated.” , you start to mop , like you don’t want him to see you cry.

“I remember asking you to clean up the bottle, to not leave it just laying around, you said okay, do you remember that”, you look up at him with raised eyebrows. He nods his head because he does remember that, actually he remembers all the times you’ve asked to not leave the dip bottles everywhere.

“In my head, I told myself that this would be the last time I ask you to clean up after yourself, and the next week a fucking dip bottle sitting right along side the couch”, you let a self deprecating chuckle.

“I’m done”, you say with such finality. It scares him that he won’t be able to get you back.

[urperfectcinnamonroll07]

Hii I just want request something of ceo mingyu and ceo reader dom/mean jealous mingyu , flirty/sub reader, reader is beautiful and everyone wamts to get inside her pants. where mingyu likes reader ,and has a meeting with her privately for some company collaboration and now the meeting lead to another thing, smut hard rough thank you!!!

Behind Closed Doors

requested?: yes pairing(s): ceo!kim mingyu x afab!reader colleague!dino(lee chan) x platonic!reader (mentioned) genre: smut, office au warning(s): smut, sir kink, pussy slapping, degradation, mentions of (slightly) older men flirting on reader, not proof read, hair pulling, oral (f recieving), orgasm denial (kinda), mingyu calls reader slut a few times, lmk if i missed any summary: 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘺𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 word count: a/n: of course i can write this! we all love mingyu in a suit after all. thanks so much for requesting, and if anyone wants to leave a request, feel free! make sure to eat and drink something, have a lovely morning/day/evening/night! love yas, mwah (side note: this took fucking ages and i dont even know why😭😭)

mingyu was your boss. he was hot, but you were counted as the prettiest girl in the whole of the office. all of the men (and some women) all wanted to get in your pants and it was obvious. mingyu was pissed because they were all older than you and he, quite frankly, found it disgusting.

you were everything from gorgeous to the most sexy person in the office. you denied all of their requests politely with your charming smile and enticing doe eyes. you had a perfect body with the most perfect curves. most women wanted to be you, but some men wanted you, and simply you.

but one day, mingyu found you talking to a guy in the corner, at the coffee machine. to him, you looked uncomfortable, but kept your smile on your face.

you would always do that. whenever you were at a work party, you would always laugh politely at the jokes, even if they were stupid, you would always have a smile on your face. at work conferences, even when you were bored at work. always.

mingyu was enraged to see you talking to him and practically stormed his way over, weaving in and out of the desks.

as soon as he stood next to you, your eyes brightened.

"meet me in the conference room, we need to talk about some company collaberation coming up" he says to you before walking away, taking quick strides before getting to the conference room.

you met him there as soon as you could, your heels clacking against the floor. your pencil skirt rode up and down with every step you took, and your blouse perfectly buttoned to show some cleavage, but not much. you couldn't help but feel a spread of warmth inbetween your legs.

mingyu looked up as you entered, you closed the door softly behind you. the blinds in the conference room were drawn, not letting much light in. the lights were off, the only light was coming from mingyu's laptop which was at the other end of the room at the end of the conference table.

his black blazer was thrown across the back of the chair that was sat to his right. his shirt sleeves were rolled up, showing his muscly forearms and the veins that lay inside of them. he was slightly man-spreading, even though you couldn't tell at first, slouched back in his chair.

you walked towards his end of the table, pulling out the chair on his right and sitting down on it. you crossed your legs, and your skirt rode up, showing more thigh than you were before. mingyu looked down.

"yes" he cleared his throat and looked back up into your eyes "i just wanted to talk to you about a work collaberation coming up soon" he says, his eyes drifted down to your clevage before looking back up again.

you smirked to yourself and leaned forwards so your tits were just about resting on the table, you crossed your arms in front of you. mingyu swallowed thickly and looked away.

"you sure it wasn't because you were jealous?" you whisper softly, your doe eyes peircing through his.

"why would i be jealous?" he asks as if the question you asked was completely and utterly ridiculous.

"because you saw me talking to lee chan" you said sweetly, he said nothing.

after a while, you stood up and began to walk out.

"where do you think you're going?" he says, getting up and grabbing your wrist.

he miscalculated how much he would have to pull you, so he pulled you harshly, making you crash into his chest. he was panting harshly as you looked up at him. he leaned in, and so did you for a few seconds, but he pulled back.

"we can't. you're my colleague and it would be unprofessional" he whispers, letting you go.

he turned away from you, running a hand through his hair. you didn't make a move.

"uhm... i should get back to work" you say before turning back to the door.

"fuck it" you hear him mutter.

he grabs your hips and spins you around, crashing his lips onto yours. the kiss was passionate and full of love. you felt his tongue swipe across your bottom lip, asking for entrance. you gladly granted him it, his tongue sliding into your mouth and finding yours.

he trapped you against the door, holding you there as the kiss got more and more frantic. your right hand tugged at his hair, your left on his right shoulder.

he un-buttoned your blouse and threw it to the floor, not breaking the kiss at all. he then pulled you against his chest and unclasped your bra, throwing it along with your blouse.

mingyu moved you so you were sat on the edge of the table with him inbetween your legs, still kissing you. his kisses soon travelled down your body, leaving small bites on the way.

you moaned out as he sucked softly on your right tit, your hands flying to his hair and getting tangled in it.

"f-fuck mingyu-" he nipped you with his teeth, you gasped.

"sir" he growled out

"m' sorry sir" you whimper out.

you felt him smirk against you as he moves to the other side, giving your other tit just as much attention as he did the other.

he let your tit go with a pop, he unbuttoned his dress shirt and threw it somewhere on the table. he took your face in his hands and kissed you again, but this time more harsh than the last.

you moaned into his mouth as you felt his hand through your skin-coloured tights rubbing soft circles on your clit. he almost ripped your tights off, along with your skirt. he smirked as he saw the wet patch on your panties.

"so wet for me already huh? i've barely even touched you. bet you were wet even before you came in here huh slut, wet thinking about how when you came in here that i would probably fuck you completely dumb" you nodded in response, as to which he landed a harch slap on your clit.

you yelped in response, mingyu grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked it backwards.

"words, slut, words" he says, delivering another harsh slap to your cunt.

the aftershock of the slap send ripples of pleasure stinging throughout your body.

"i was wet before i came on here! i'm sorry sir i just couldn't help it" you almost yelled out.

mingyu chuckled maliciously, rubbing harsh circles on your puffy clit, but just before you could moan out, he got down on his knees, inbetween your thighs. he looked up at you and, oh, did he look so fucking hot. he chuckles and attatches his lips to your clit, sucking on it harshly, earning a string of porno-worthy moans from you.

he keeps sucking and licking your soaked cunt as he presses his fingers into you, earning another lewd moan. just as you were about to finish, mingyu stopped all of his actions.

you whined as he took his fingers away from you, your pussy clenching around nothing. he chuckled upon seeing you do so.

soon, he stood back up, undoing his belt and shoving his dress pants down, along with his underpants, freeing his hardened cock. it sprung out and slapped against his stomach. he was big.

"stand" he says forcefully, you do as he says and stand up, but with wobbly legs from your ruined orgasm "such a good little slut for me" he says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

he smiled at you sweetly before grabbing your hips and turing you around so your ass is pressed against him. mingyu then grabs your head and pushes you down so you were bent over the table.

he pushed inside of you, his thick cock filling you up entirely. he barely gave you time to adjust before he pulled out, just leaving the tip in and slamming back inside of you.

he did it over and over, tangling his hands in your hair and pushing your head down, your cheek was against the glass table. you reached above you for something to grip onto, and found his dress shirt, balling it into your fist.

his cock pumping in and out of you, had you making sounds of pleasure. you were fairly quiet, until he pounded into you harder and harder, hitting that gummy spot inside of you over and over again, making you see stars.

you could've screamed at the pleasure you were feeling, and you did.

"gonna flirt with anymore men today or am i fucking you so good that you'll forget about them and only flirt with me huh?" he growls out, his hips pistolling into yours at an ungodly pace "who's making you feel this good huh? say it" he groans, you could tell he was close with how his hips stuttered.

"you- oh god" you moan out.

"louder" he growls, shoving your head down.

"you" you moan out, this time slightly louder.

"louder" he growls again, speeding up his movements, you felt the knot grow in your stomach before it snapped.

"you, sir!" you scream out as you cum harder than you have in your entire life.

your juices squirted all over his cock as you clenched around him. he came not long after, painting your walls white.

he let out a long groan as he pulled out of you, creating a squelching sound in your pussy. you whimpered out as he grabbed your waist and pulled you up into his arms.

he held you there for a while, occasionally kissing the top of your head, rubbing soft circles into your back. you had your head on his chest, that was the only place you could reach with his height.

"we need to get back to work" you say softly, looking up at him.

"you go home, send me your adress and i'll finish what we started when i'm done here" he smirks, you look up at him, batting your eyelashes.

"okay, yeah" you say with a smile.

"yeah...?" he says, looking at you expectantly.

"yes, sir" you say innocently, he smiles at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead and letting you get dressed.

later on, you walked out of the conference room, you did try to make your make up look more presentable, but it didn't really work out that well. you went straight home before sending mingyu your adress and a sneaky little picture of you, before you climbed in the shower.

a few hours later, you heard a knock at the door, as to which you opened it to see mingyu. it didn't take long for him to attatch his lips to yours, taking a stride forward into your house and shutting the door.

he pinned you to the door and grabbed your thigh, hitching it up to sit around his waist. you moan into his mouth as you feel his already hardeed dick poke your stomach.

"fuck, you're perfect" he says, looking into your eyes deeply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear again. he grabs your hips and guides you over to the sofa and lies you down "god you're gonna get every bit of me tonight" he whispers before removong his pants and pumping his dick before moving your night-dress up your body to your waist.

"no panties? fuck, you are a slut" he says before shoving his dick inside of you again, not wasting any time before he was pumping in and out of you again.

your skin slapped together with his. each stroke of his cock hitting that spongy spot inside of you making the knot in your stomach tighten.

you grabbed at his arm, signalling you were close. he didn't stop and instead went faster. you got closer and closer until the knot snapped and you were thrown over the edge, screaming as you creamed his cock.

he finished too, and as you tried to get out from underneath him, but he pulled you back under him.

"where do you think you're going? i haven't even started honey"