#or that milk really was cursed this morning.

[misctf]

Christmas Curse

Hey everyone! Happy Holidays. If you have any holiday-themed asks, I will try to prioritize those. Hope you enjoy this story!

“Yeah, yeah Stacy, I know.” Matt grumbles, “You’ll be here soon. Got it.” He rolls his eyes, “ Jesus Stacy, I got the kids their presents. I know how to be a dad.” He hangs up, “Fuckin’ bitch.” He mumbles.

Matt yawns and starts preparing his morning coffee. He was going to need it. While he didn’t really mind having his kids over, he did hate having to see his ex-wife. Always nagging him, even after they signed the papers. It was that nagging that drove him to cheat on her with one of his clients at the gym. At least that’s how he justified it. A small frown formed on his lips as he sips his coffee.

“First Christmas since the divorce.” He mumbles, looking around his empty apartment, “Damn.” A part of him starts to feel guilty- his kids deserved better. No decorations, no tree, not even a single light, “Fuck. I won’t hear the end of this.” His thoughts return to his ex-wife.

He quickly walks to his closet where he had a few things that he got from the house after the divorce. He sighs as he realizes most of the decorations he took were broken- likely due to how unceremoniously he treated them during the move.

“Oh god.” He grimaces as he pulls out their Elf on the Shelf, “Terrifying little fucker.” He chuckles, “Yeah, you got me good, Stacy.”

It was the one decoration Stacy insisted he take in the divorce. Likely because of how much it creeped him out. Just another petty move on her part, he figured. Yet part of him can’t help but smile. His kids loved the thing.

“I guess this’ll do.” He quickly walks back to the kitchen and places it lamely on a chair.

He walks over to grab his coffee and upon turning around, he raises an eyebrow. The damn thing was on the ground. Matt walks over and quickly places it back on the chair, making sure there was no way it could fall.

“Creepy fucker.” He mumbles, turning around again.

Thump

“Really?” Matt turns back to find it on the ground again, “Seriously, what the hell?” He picks it up and looks at it closely, “Stay put.” He realizes he sounds insane- talking to an inanimate object.

“Make me.” Matt’s eyes widen as he realizes the decoration just talked to him. Its eyes blinking. Its giggles echoing in his ears.

“Gah what the fuck!?”

Matt cries out as it bites down firmly on his thumb and he throws it across the room. He stares at the small teeth marks on his thumb and watches as the little demon scurries away, its giggling filling his apartment. Matt’s breath became heavier as he stumbled to the kitchen sink and started cleaning out his cut. His thoughts were racing and he was feeling dizzy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” He’s mumbling to himself, and he shakily grabs his cup of coffee.

But when the bitter liquid touches his tongue he gags and drops the mug. Its disgusting. Bitter, sour, and he spits out as much as he can. He quickly rushes to his fridge, looking for anything that might get that disgusting taste out of his mouth. But none of his protein shakes look appealing, nor does almond milk or his protein smoothies. Matt doesn’t know what compels him, but he grabs the chocolate milk he got his kids last time they visited. Without much thought, he begins to guzzle it, downing the carton in a matter of seconds.

“So good...” He giggles, wiping his mouth.

His eyes widen at the realization of what he just did. He just ruined his macros for the day without even thinking about it. At least the taste from the coffee was gone. Matt shakes his head- realizing he has bigger things to worry about. He needed to find that elf. As his thoughts return to his predicament, he can hear a giggle coming from the bedroom.

“Fudger...” Matt mumbles, “Fudger? No I meant fudger! What the fudge?” He shakes his head, trying to curse, “Sugar plums... I need to find that thINg.”

Frustrated at his inability to curse, and the strange cracking of his voice, Matt rushes to his room. Desperate to find the monster and give it back to Stacy. Of course she gave him a cursed doll. And as he storms down the hallway, he absentmindedly scratches at his beard. The hairs falling away, leaving his cheeks smooth and hairless. Unbeknownst to him, they take on a rosier complexion, filling out slightly and becoming rounder.

“ThERe you ARe.” Matt’s voice cracks as he notices the decoration sitting atop his tall dresser, “Come here.”

Matt approaches his dresser and reaches to grab it but finds his arms no longer reach the top of it. The elf grins and teases Matt, reaching out to Matt, who is unable to grab it. Just missing ever so slightly. The personal trainer is growing frustrated, now standing on his tippee toes as he desperately swats at the elf.

“Why can’t I reach it?” Matt thinks. At 6’3” he never had an issue reaching the top of the dresser.

And as he lifts his arms above his hand, he catches a whiff from his exposed pits. But it’s not his musk that invades his nostrils. No, it’s sweet. Like gingerbread and holly. He lowers his arms, not even registering that his pit hair has vanished.

“What’s happening to me?” He whispers, his voice softer. The masculine edge diminished. He looks up at the elf, who is smiling at him, “What did you do to me?”

Matt turns and looks over at his full body mirror. A high-pitched gasp leaves his mouth as he catches a glimpse of himself. He’s short... at least 5’4”. And his muscles look softer. He saunters over to the mirror, feeling his smooth face, rubbing a hand through his dissipating chest hairs. His tokens of masculinity vanishing at an alarming rate. His face cute- elfish even. Just like... just like...

“No, no, no!” Matt’s voice has settled on its higher tenor, “Stop this!” He hisses, hating how pouty his voice sounds, “Please! I...” He turns to confront the elf.

But it’s no longer on the dresser. Matt’s heart is pounding in his chest as he swings back to watch the changes continue. He grunts as his meaty pecs let out a hissing sound and deflate before his eyes. Days of chest flies and bench pressing seem to reverse themselves as his chest becomes flat, his two nipples becoming perkier and sensitive to the cool air in his apartment. He can’t help but massage his flat chest with his dainty and smooth hands. Part of him enjoying how cute he looks, another part utterly horrified at the loss of his gains.  

“Wait, please don’t... not my arms!”

In a moment of lucid thought, he realizes that his impressive tris and bis are releasing the same hissing sounds. Rapidly becoming stick-like and nonthreatening. Matt feels tears well up in his eyes. He loved to flex- to show off to his clients. He loved holding women in his muscular arms. How they would run their hands along them and his abs... His abs! He watches as they too smooth over and vanish, giving him a lean tummy. His treasure trail, another symbol of his masculinity has similarly vanished. The hairs falling to the ground, leaving Matt smooth.

“Oh god...” Matt feels for his Adam’s apple and frowns, “Even my voice...” He stumbles backwards and slides down the wall, “Oh!” He moans as his inflated ass cushions him, “Wh-what...?” He moans as he feels his larger ass. His hands filling with the flesh of his larger, jiggling mounds, “Ohhhhh...”

He gives them a squeeze, part of him embarrassed at how sensitive they are. At how each squeeze causes his dick to harden with pleasure. And as he moans again, he can’t help but realize that the bulge in his pants becomes less prominent. While part of him screams to stop, the pleasure he’s getting from just squeezing his ass overpowers any remaining willpower he might have. When he finally does pull his hands away from his ass and looks down his pants, his heart sinks. His dick has settled on 2 inches hard. Far from the thick meat women would beg for. And while part of him wanted to cry, to beg to return to his masculine form, another part urged him to give his ass another squeeze. And he did. Again and again and again...

It was a few hours later when he heard a knock at his door. Matt was lying face down, ass in the air, his dainty hands massaging his thicc ass. He slowly pushes himself up and giggles. His rosy cheeks rounding out more as a smile forms on his cute face. He quickly walks over to the closet where he rummages through tank-tops and hoodies.

“So ugly and boring...” Matt thinks as he hums a Christmas tune to himself.

And then he finds it. He never really remembered buying it, but the red footie pajamas, white fluffy mittens, and Santa hat are absolutely perfect. He quickly puts them on and walks over to the mirror.

“Ohhh I look so good!” He giggles, lifting his leg and doing a twirl.

Part of him registers that he looks exactly like the elf. A near perfect, human replica. And while he feels deep down this is wrong, that he isn’t some elf-like, twink with a big ass, he can’t imagine being anything else.

“No please! Let me out!” Matt’s giggling stops as he listens closely to the voice in his head. And when he stares in the mirror, he sees who he used to be. A desperate fear in the man’s eyes, “Please! I’m not...”

“Shhhhh!” Giggling fills the air, “We have a lot to do!”

Matt leaves the mirror, the sound of sobbing echoing deep within his brain. But Matt can’t be bothered right now. He quickly swings open the door and grins when he sees Stacy.

“Stacy!” He sings, “Merry Christmas Eve!”

Stacy grins, “Seems like you found my gift.” She says, “I just came by to pick up the presents for the kids. I think they should stay with me this Christmas.”

Matt frowns, “Alright... It’s not like I’m ready for Christmas anyway.” He pouts, crossing his arms.

Matt watches as Stacy leaves with the few presents he got for his kids. Internally, Matt is begging to be freed. This isn’t what he wanted. This wasn’t... His thoughts slow as he feels hands grip his massive ass. The two Matts moaning in unison. Their minds melding in the midst of their shared pleasure. And internally, Matt realizes it’s too late. As the new Matt opens up Grindr to find a hairy daddy to fuck his brains out, Matt realizes by the time Christmas morning comes around, he and this new Matt will be one.

As he dreads his future, he can hear a giggle coming from down the hall. One last mocking laugh from the elf on the shelf.

[starboye]

starring: santa claus x male reader

request: SO. Santa is visiting a young man, the reader, who is actually at the top of the nice list this year. Santa comes down the chimney and, instead of cookies and milk, finds the reader fucking himself with a candy cane, looking at naughty drawings of the very St. Nick himself! Clearly, the reader deserves to be on the naughty list. Unfortunately, Santa didn’t bring any coal! Surely, a day long, brutal plowing from his Saint Nick Dick will be enough punishment, right?

warnings: smut, cursing, really rough sex, fucking yourself with a candy cane

christmas, the best time and the time to get present for the great old saint nick (if you believe in that kind of thing) and what do you know it seems you were a good boy this year so you're the first stop of the night getting a visit from santa.

as long as this has been going on the old man expected to find some cookies and milk out like any other year or even a note bit instead he reaches the end of the chimney and finds you fucking yourself with a candy cane "oh dear what is this all about" santa asks, eyes darting around what sound be a very good boy but it seems only a naughty one lives here.

"santa i wasn't expecting you" you moan, the delicious treat plunging deeper and deeper into you, this isn't right naughty boys deserve all the coal in the world but uh oh it seems he forgot it in his sleigh and he's getting hard in his jeans so what other pusnishment could he choose.

walking over to you and standing above you with a mean look written over his face "why don't you pleasure yourself with something more real" santa says pulling his pants down to reveal his thick cock and you jump at the offer, wrapping you hand around it and sinking your mouth onto it, not being able to get it all in you just stroked the rest with your shaking hand.

"no need to be nervous boy, santas gonna take real good care of you tonight" the old man says before grabbing both sides of your head and fucking your mouth roughly with no remorse more the gagging sounds you make, a bunch of obscenities leaving his mouth as you took him in your throat.

"turn around boy" he orders pulling out from your mouth and stroking his cock to the juicy sight of your plump ass, it just looked so fuckable and fucked is what he did, plowing your hole open nice and wide with his long cock, calling you such a nasty boy for being a slut to the joy bringer of december "what is mrs.claus not putting out enough" you joke earning a stinging slap from the big man, a red mark being left on your skin which probably wont go away for another months or so.

"shut up boy before you cant walk for a month" he threatens but like doesn't that sound like such a good time, so you continue to hurl jokes at him just enough to where he fucks you so hard your hole feels like it's being ripped apart, he did this all night, making sure you understood the consequences of being naughty.

fucking you until you passed out, waking up the next morning sore and unable to fully move but finding a letter from the man himself saying "i hope to see you next year the same way i left you" and maybe this isn't a bad thing, i mean getting fucked by santa is better than any present i've ever gotten.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[happywitch416]

I need to talk to my mother about next week now that I know Hub's schedule. I already feel like I have done everything wrong today so its a) put it off to tomorrow or b) fuck it, lets screw that up too.

Either way, I'm sure I will say it wrong.

[skelly-words]

sneaking into a witch’s garden to steal something and her vines fertilize you 😩😩 (this sentence is crazy bruh)

wait til she finds you in the morning and fucks you with her huge dick

NSFW, Minors DNI (18+ obv)

TAGS: non-con monsterfucking, vines/plants, aphrodisiac, ovi, all holes, futanari, this is so cursed lol, also a period piece ig

WC- 1.1k

You're hungry. The kind of starving that makes you ask the grocers at the market for vegetable scraps, lift bread loaves out of unattended baskets, and hop the ten-foot cobblestone wall into your neighbor's garden.

You feel like an idiot as soon as you make it into the witch's yard. Nobody ever got away with stealing from her, yet here you were, shivering in the frigid winter twilight, inching across her frosted lawn to the brightly lit greenhouse.

The heavy glass doors barely creak and you're almost sucked in by the humid air. The empty gurgle in your gut makes you press on through the rows of plants, looking for something edible or incredible to make off with.

You search the entire greenhouse before making the mistake of sniffing at her rose bushes. They smell sweet, much less harsh and organic than a normal rose. You sniff deeply into the blossom as it pushed against your nose.

Your mind is gone after that first inhale. The careful brambles shred your clothes, letting the rags fall to the dirt while they carefully wrap around your body. The rosebuds drip with a sweet syrup. It leaks into the seam of your mouth, making you lick out to taste it, to suckle the nectar from the buds until you're drowning in it.

You've been completely pulled into the rose bushes now, so tangled in the tenacious little plant that you couldn't get out if you wanted to. You drink down whatever the bud gives you, even as the sticky liquid makes you gasp and choke. More of the buds press to the corner of your mouth, smearing the substance across your jaw and neck, some drop lower, opening their petals to suckle on your swollen nipples. You haven't noticed how heavy your breasts have gotten. The tight binding of the vines had to adjust so the hungry rosebuds could suck on your fat tits.

Milk spurts out of you as the vines squish and squeeze at your heaving chest. You can hardly breathe. Something is in the syrup, making your mind numb and skin tingle as it smears on your sensitive body. Globs of sticky nectar drip onto your clit so it twitches and throbs as a greedy bud latches onto it. Your hips buck, bumping into a bundle of slender stamen that prod at your entrance. They move with your hips to work your pussy open. The tendrils twist their way into your tight hole and slowly expand. The sucker on your clit helps your muscles relax, but the demanding stretch is too much.

You groan loudly, parting your lips to pant as the fibers pry your cunt apart. The blossom at your lips forces its way deeper, sliding over your tongue, dripping down your throat, snaking its way so deep you can't taste the sweetness of the syrup its pumping into you.

Suddenly, the stretch isn't so bad anymore and you moan, sounding more like a gurgle around the obstruction. You can feel them exploring your insides. The stamen probe at your cervix, getting as deep as possible before turning you into a proper seed bed. It slowly starts to pump you full of spawn, feeding eggs into your cunt with thick spurts of the rose nectar. Your eyes roll back as the band in your belly tightens. It snaps as the effects of the drugged plant take over. Your pussy tingles, walls clenching, squishing the eggs and juice in as you cum. Pathetic dribbles leak down your thighs as the mess sprays out of you.

Streams of milk lead from your nipples, pooling beneath each breast. You're leaking too fast for the rosebuds to suckle up. Time seems to move slow, or fast. You don't really know, counting the eggs being shoved into you instead of the minutes. At least your tummy is full now. You've been well fed by the vine lodged in your throat.

The witch finds you in the morning when she comes to garden. You're so tucked away in the vines, she would've missed you if not for the sound. You're squishing and sloshing from being so stuffed full by her naughty flora.

"Looks like my rosehips like you, they've made you into a perfect seedbed. It's kinda kismet because I've been meaning to propagate them." She grabs your hips, wrenching you halfway out of the bush to look at what the plant has done to you. "The rosehips only care about breeding, so it's left your cute little ass all empty."

Her finger swirls through your drooling folds before dipping lower and sinking into your butt. You're so tight, already squirming around one little finger. She palms her cock with her other hand as she fucks you open on her fingers. Slick drips down from your cunt to help lube up your hole. You watch her black skirt start to lift as she gets harder. Her dripping tip starts to poke from the beneath the hem as she grows. Thick semen runs from the blunt head of her horsecock. She lets it land in your cunt, left gaping by the twenty six eggs the rose has planted in you.

The witch only puts two fingers in your ass before forcing her dick in. She grunts and huffs, grip on your hips only growing tighter with each stunted thrust. You're strung out on the aphrodisiac being fed down your throat. You've been drinking it all night long, more full than you've been in months. The fat cockhead catches on your rim each time she pulls back, you clench and twitch around her, squeezing the life out of her dick.

You take it all, sucking all thirteen inches into your puckering hole. She rolls her hips against yours, mesmerized by how your your cunt twitches and tightens as she fucks you. She's so big and pent up, so it doesn’t take long for her to release, cumming deep in your guts as her balls pump her sticky spunk into you.

You hardly control your body anymore, murmuring weakly as you squirt on the witch's dick. She keeps a punishing pace and you love it. The rough drag of her throbbing cock makes your muscles tense and squeeze. She tugs the bud away from your left tit, leaning down to suck on your abused nipple.

"Your milk's sweet. Taste it." She suckles from you again and spits it between your lips, already left open by the vine, but you can taste the milk as it hits your tongue. It's so good, you're almost jealous she gets to drink it. She mouths at your breast, giving kitten licks to the liquid beading on your cute brown nubs.

You’re making such a mess of cum on her stomach as she leans over you. The overstimulation is hard to register from how hazy your mind’s become. Your clit pulses from being sucked on all night, spasming again whenever she has you at the fullest. She has your ass so stuffed it makes your eyes cross and the stamen are trying to push another egg in you. Every orgasm wrecks you, cresting tears over your cheeks as she keeps her lips pressed around your chest to nurse from you.

Not many people are stupid enough to steal from the witch anymore, and her cock gets so painfully hard when she doesn’t have a slut like you to take care of it. She takes out all of her frustration on your poor virgin ass. You’re so ruined now, only able to cum and spread your legs more because that’s all the aphrodisiac allows you to think about.

you’ve lost count of how many eggs are in your sticky cunt, always being given more and more as you adjust. Your butt is stretched so much by her swollen length that she’s trained you to take her whenever she wants. Your rim easily swallows up her fingers, tongue, or dick, sometimes dildos, whatever she felt like watching you squirt on.

The witch’s cock keeps you plugged up every morning. It's the only routine you can seem to keep track of these days. Oh well, who knows why you came here in the first place anyway?

A/n- i wrote this in one sitting (it’s noticeable)

new tentacle au idea, thoughts?

[emmyrosee]

Osamu keeps his ringer on at night.

It’s moreso for his own sake of mind than anything else, once he started living on campus he felt completely out of the loop from everything that could be going on at home. He likes to be updated, his mother knows that and does, and if Atsumu ever needs him, he’s got an immediate way of knowing.

But tonight, Osamu is regretting keeping his ringer on.

His phone, for the past half hour, was buzzing against his mattress, having woken him up and kept him now from drifting back to sleep. someone’s been calling him, texting him, sending his phone into a frenzy trying to keep up with the notifications.

And listen- he knows he should be panicked, with the ferocity his phone is exploding.

But it’s you. You’re texting him. You told him you would if you couldn’t fall asleep. You always do when you can’t fall asleep.

There’s a brief moment that doesn’t really linger as Osamu curses the gods for whatever mischief they pulled to make you two be in love, but it disappears as the thought turns into one of gratefulness- after all, you trust him with your comfort. How could he not be ecstatic?

His sleepy hand paws next to his head for the buzzing phone, grabbing it and squinting at the brightness. On screen is a phone call, and the display picture is you mid-bite of a sandwich.

His two favorite things.

He presses the green answer button and brings the device to his ear. “Text me again, and I’ll fart on your pillow next time I come over.” It’s a playful threat, one he knows you relax at with amusement, but you say nothing else of it in an attempt to keep the needy facade.

“‘Samu?” You whine, and he chews his lip to fight the smirk that wants to reside on his face.

“It’s 2:45 in the morning, freak.”

“I can’t sleep,” you pout.

“I can.”

You choose to ignore him again, not that he’s surprised, “what would it take for you to come over and keep me company?”

In reality, not a whole lot. You know he knows that, and Osamu cannot stand you milking that for your own gain. He groans and pretends to contemplate it for a minute, his large hand scrubbing his face. “I don’t know, I’m pretty sleepy.”

“How about pancakes and a Jurassic Park marathon?” You coax, and suddenly osamu is very awake.

His grey eyes flip open and his legs swung out from his bed, “don’t toy with me.”

“Osamu, you know I never toy when it comes to pancakes and Jurassic Park.” It’s silent on both ends for a moment, only short, relaxed breathing coming on your end, and osamu can practically feel the warmth of your smile through the phone.

He clicks his tongue, “I’ll be over in 10.”

“Bring my favorite blanket.” With that, you hang up the phone and leave him with a smile etched cheekily on his face, rubbing his tired eyes with the heel of his palm before he stands up, pulls socks over the edge of his sweatpants and toes on some slides, stretching and pawing sleepily for the key to his dorm.

He knows he won’t be back for a few hours.

And to be very honest, for you? He doesn’t really mind.

[wileys-russo]

are requests open? if so could you do a comfort blurb the prompt “i could really use a hug right now” with alessia? thanks!

need a hug II a.russo

"oh for fuck sakes!" you swore as you knocked over a pot plant, dirt and rocks spilling out everywhere, groaning as you flicked off the vacuum.

the house falling you silent you gingerly moved the vacuum out of the way, sighing as you hunted around in the cupboard beneath the sink to try and find the dustpan and broom.

"where has she put it?" you huffed, your girlfriend having an infuriating habit of using something and never placing it back where she found it, eventually fishing it out from the bottom of the pantry.

squatting down you began to sweep up the mess, only you'd barely begun before the brush promply snapped in half. "are you joking?" you had to laugh in disbelief, now only holding the handle.

"how does that even happen?" you grunted, grabbing the jagged brush and trying to sweep up as best you could, dropping it into the garbage and vacuuming up the rest before trying to repot the poor plant as best you could and setting it aside.

you were interrupted by a few short sharp knocks at the door, grateful you hadn't started the vacuum yet and hurrying over, well aware you currently looked an absolute state.

thankfully it was only the post man and with a smile you collected the few packages addressed to your girlfriend, closing the front door and leaving them on the corner of the bed for her to deal with once she got home.

you knew alessia had been stressed lately, she was so close to finally finishing her studies but juggling that, the podcast, brand deals, appearances and football, she did well to hide it but you knew her well enough to see how thin she was wearing.

the blonde was already gone before you'd woke up, having a photo shoot and interview before training and you knew she had a rather large assignment looming over her which she'd spend hours doing once she got home.

so you'd elected to work from home today which consisted of two meetings you'd moved to the morning and an hour of admin, and freed up your entire afternoon to try and make the house as lovely and tidy as possible.

your girlfriend proudly half italian had taught you how to make pasta many times only you'd never attempted it by yourself, but you'd ducked out to the grocery store to make some for the pair of you for dinner, determined for her not to lift a single finger tonight.

only your grand plan of this large self care evening in which you'd oh so keenly do whatever your girlfriend needed to unwind was being apprehended by one thing, the fact that someone, somewhere, with some unknown grudge against you seemed to have cursed you the most rotten luck in which nothing was going to plan at all.

the tipped over plant wasn't even the start of it, accidentally near blinding yourself with a bottle of toilet bleach as you'd wrestled to get the cap off and slipped on your freshly mopped floor, almost tipping it all over your face as you'd just capped it.

then there was your coffee, a slight lapse in your concentration meaning you'd burnt your milk and then had no more left to remake it, struggling through a very unwelcome long black instead.

thankfully the next hour passed incident free, a satsified click of your tongue as you arranged the lilies you'd gotten for your favourite blonde in the crystal vase which was a present from her mum on your first christmas with the russo's.

but now perhaps the biggest mission of all, dinner.

a brief glance at your phone and you smiled seeing a few messages from your girlfriend, fingers flying as you shot back a reply and tucked your phone into your pocket.

for some extra support you'd found a video online to run you through making the dough, which you knew would be the hardest part of it all as you'd watched even your semi pro pasta making girlfriend mess it up before.

your first attempt, was an absolute dud and the only thing it would be feeding was the garbage bin.

you were beginning to get the hang of kneading while also being acutely aware that any minute now alessia would be home, and you wanted as much of this done as possible because you knew your girlfriend well enough that her first instinct would be to takeover.

sure enough not even a moment later you heard the keys in the door, almost done with putting the dough through the pasta roller and withholding a laugh as you heard a thump and a curse ring out.

"welcome home clumsy!" you called out, the blonde appearing with a playful glare and blowing you a kiss, holding up her gym bag which you knew no doubt was full of dirty laundry she'd want to put on soon as possible.

it all seemed to be going well, dough rolled and ready to be shaped, but alas, your rotten luck struck again.

you rounded the counter to grab something, but having just washed your hands and not drying them they'd clearly dripped onto the floor and before you could even blink you'd slipped and your back hit the floor.

but no, of course that wasn't it, your hand collecting the half full bag of flour and sending it toppling down on top of you, a squeal leaving your lips and footsteps thundering toward you as your girlfriend skidded into the kitchen, concern clearly plastered all over her face.

"what happened?" alessia breathed out, eyes wide at the sight before her and you buried beneath a small mountain of flour, hand smacking over her mouth as you exhaled sending a puff of white up into the air.

"i could really use a hug right now." you mumbled, grateful somewhat for the flour smeared across your cheeks covering how red they'd flushed with embarassment.

"oh baby." alessia bit her lip clearly trying to conceal a grin, gingerly treading her way across the kitchen toward you. "c'mere." the striker stood over you and offered her hands, taking yours within them and very carefully pulling you up to your feet.

you exhaled tiredly into her chest as without a second thought the taller girl wrapped you in a hug, holding tightly as her hand rubbed up and down your back soothingly.

"i was just about to say everything is so clean." the blondes body vibrated with laughter against yours as you let out a pitiful whine. "i was trying to give you a lovely clean home and hot dinner to come home to." you sighed, words a little muffled against her jumper which was now covered in flour. "hey." you looked up as hands cupped your cheeks.

"i'm coming home to you, and that's always more than enough." your girlfriend spoke firmly, bright blue eyes locked with your own as you could only nod. "i love you." you leaned up to kiss her, frowning when the blonde craned her chin away.

"hey! kiss me." you scowled, a grin curling into her lips which again dodged yours. "you are covered in flour." alessia laughed as you rolled your eyes. "so you don't love me, noted." you sighed dramatically, pulling away from her.

"oh no no no, don't you be like that." your girlfriend was quick to capture you back in her arms, spinning you around so your back was pressed against the counter.

"kiss me then." you challenged with a sly smile, the footballer sighing dramatically as if you'd just asked her to build you a house, a scoff leaving your lips before they were promptly pressed against her own.

"i love you too pretty girl."

[targaryenluvs]

HARD TIMES / EVAN BUCKLEY

PAIRING: Evan Buckley x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Whilst waiting for his appointment, Evan abstains from sexual encounters. Which is a bit hard whilst simultaneously having a crush on the girl from the coffee shop.

WARNINGS: Fluff, sex mentions, teasing, makeouts & sexual depictions

WORDCOUNT: 2.5K Words

A/N: I’m actually in love with this idea 😂 May or may not have made Buck a whiner 👀 As per usual, @megalony for giving me the inspo to finish this off - check out her Buck fic!!

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

He was cursed, indefinitely.

Getting rescheduled, running out of gas, random remodels galore. It seems as if someone was against him finally making his donation. But the waiting wasn’t the worst part, the no sex rule was major. Why on Earth had he stuck with it? Evan assumed it wouldn’t be too difficult, which it wasn’t.

Until he met you.

It was the fourth day of waiting and he’d changed his usual coffee place ever since they randomly only served skim milk. And he was happy to make the change, since his new place was actually three minutes closer as well as better. Ever since he saw you, he’d found himself ordering more than needed, adding a muffin or two, or ordering for the crew.

Anything that let him stare at you for a little while longer. You were always on time, every morning you showed up, ordered the same thing with the occasional additional treat. A smile on your face and always equipped with a kind compliment.

But Buck surprisingly couldn’t find it in himself to approach you. Whether he was too scared of embarrassing himself or he just liked staring. He found himself second guessing his actions at every turn. It wasn’t until you came in minus a smile that he worked up the courage to interact with you.

You were currently sitting outside, gazing at the oncoming traffic and people going about their day. The cup in your hands taking the brunt end of your restlessness as you tapped your fingers. The hand waving in your face brought you back, “Oh, I’m so sorry. Did you need something?” The man in front of you grinned, “Uh no, not really. I just- well you were…” He pointed out to the traffic before pointing at you again.

“Would you like to sit? Maybe it’d help you get your words together.” You joked as he laughed before pulling his respective chair, “Thanks, I’m Evan. But people call me Buck, whatever works for you.” You reached your hand out, “Y/n, nice to meet you Evan.”

Evan smiled before revealing the brown bag, “I uhm, well you looked like you were a bit down, so I ordered you a pastry. Thought it’d cheer you up.” Your regular pastry sat inside the bag, waiting for you to eat it, “Oh! You really didn’t have to, that’s so nice of you.” He waved his hand, brushing off your words, “It’s nothing really, just enjoy it.” You wanted to ask how he knew, but figured there was no point in it.

And the two of you talked for almost an hour afterwards, slowly getting to know each other better. The pair of you were quick friends to your surprise. And your relationship only grew afterwards, regularly catching up in the mornings over coffee. Which then turned to lunch together during his off day, and then dinner.

You knew it was quick, but you couldn’t help yourself, you really did like Evan. It was unbelievably easy to talk to him, he was such a warm person. And Evan sure as hell liked you. Every day he found it easier to get out of bed, overly eager to get to see your face and hear your voice. God, he could listen to you for hours.

He’d never really clicked so easily with someone, and he was grateful for it. It’d been a while since Taylor, it was refreshing to talk to someone and not just for a night. He found himself checking his phone every few minutes, hoping for a reply from you.

And everyone else noticed.

“What’s got you so happy Buckley?” Chimney asked from the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee. Hen glanced over to find Buck smiling down at his phone, “Nothing, just looking at photos.” Hen circled back to him, sitting down across from him as she surveyed his body language. You and Evan had been out last night at a movie, and you’d both posed in the cardboard cutouts.

The photo he was looking at had you as a bodybuilder and him in a dress he looked “absolutely stunning in”, according to you.

“It’s like your face is permanently smiling. Please tell me it’s not frozen.” She poked his cheek before he swatted it away, “Can I not just be happy?” Chimney shrugged before settling down next to Hen, “You can be happy, as long as you tell us what, or who, has you feeling this way.” Bobby came towards the trio, Eddie in tow, “Who’s feeling what?” Hen chuckled, “Seems we’ve got a smitten Buckley in the house. We’re trying to figure out who’s making him happy.”

Buck rolled his eyes before getting up, “It’s really not that big of a deal guys, cmon.” Bobby shook his head, “Yes it is, someone’s in love.” The group laughed as Evan shook his head, “Not you too, I thought you were sensible.” He shrugged his shoulders, “I am extremely sensible, and curious. What’s their name?”

“Her names Y/n, and that’s all you get to know for now. Damn vultures.”

“Don’t make me circle back for you Buckley!” Hen shouted out as Evan made his way down, what he didn’t expect was for you to be waiting for him. “Y/n?” You turned swiftly to meet his eye, “Hey Buck, you called me?” His eyebrows furrowed, “It must’ve been an accident, I’m sorry. But you didn’t have to come here.”

He was thoroughly impressed, did a phone call from him warrant a visit? Not that he was complaining. You looked even more gorgeous than usual, and you smelled—

“Yeah but we were supposed to meet for lunch, and you didn’t reply, I only got a call.” His eyes widened in realisation, he’d forgotten your date. Was it a date? Did you think it was a date? Is that why you were wearing a dress? You said you usually only wear them for special occasions or people. Was he a special person?

“I’m so so sorry, it must’ve slipped my mind. We just came back from a run. We can go now for sure.” Your smile spread as he spoke, “Is something funny? Please tell me I don’t have sauce on my face.” Your laughter filled the air, did you know that your eyes creased when you giggled? Your nose also scrunched, god you were cute.

His eyes trailed up to the balcony, where his entire team stood staring before straightening up, “Mhm, the top of the trucks are so pretty. Probably shiny too.” The random topics of conversation were more than enough to alert Evan to the eavesdropping taking place. “Guess you might as well meet those idiots.” You smiled, “Lead the way Firefighter Buckley.”

“Oh! You are brilliant!” Chimney exclaimed as the rest of the group laughed uncontrollably. Buck sat with his arms crossed, “It’s not even that funny!” You couldn’t help but pat his bicep, “Of course you don’t think it is!” You leaned into him as you giggled, practically pushing your chest into his arm.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.

Evan’s eyes were staring right into Eddies soul, as Eddies laughter died down, “You okay?” He mouthed as the man across him from blinked rapidly before nodding. Eddies eyes trailed to you, and your low cut dress before returning to Buck. Oh, oh! Eddie smiled, “That’s a really lovely dress Y/n/n.” Evan’s eyes narrowed, wishing a few horrible accidents upon Eddie.

Murmurs of agreement broke out from everyone else, “It really is, what do you think Buck?” Evan’s lips drew into a tight line, “Oh, yeah. Definitely, they look good in it. I mean— you look amazing. Really good today. Not that you don’t usually, you always look so good. And smell! Not that I smell you, you smell. Good! You smell good.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he stumbled his way through his monologue, “Good to know Buck, good to know.” You promptly turned to Bobby, “Yknow Evan never shuts up about your cooking, would I ever be so lucky to experience it for myself?”

Buck zoned out of the current conversation, replaying his epic fail in his head.The tightening of his pants had him shifting around uncomfortably, and Eddies grin aimed his way was getting to him.

He was going to kill Eddie.

Dinner that night was probably amongst one of the best dates he’d ever had. And he had asked you before you went out whether or not it was a date, repeatedly. But it was also a test of strength. You’d decided to wear a gorgeous dress, designed to test his patience.

And as if that wasn’t enough, he’d made the stupid mistake of inviting you back to his apartment.

Which, A) Gave the impression that something was going to happen.

B) Maybe made you think that he thought you were the type of girl to put out easily.

And Evan never wanted you to think that.

With a few glasses of wine, sweet music and amazing company you were bound to end up on his bed. Evan’s hands were soft yet controlling, lifting you up onto his lap to straddle him. “God you’re gorgeous.” He murmured into your neck as you giggled, “Is that so?” He smiled up at you as your arms locked around his neck, “Definitely.”

“Then we should settle in for the night, no?”

Evan wanted to curse his own mind for reminding him, maybe he could make the deposit another time, right? He knew it was wrong to think this way, but how could he stop himself from going all the way with you on top of him? “Dammit, I am so sorry. But I can’t.” Your swiftly lifted yourself off his lap, settling down next to him.

“Hey that’s fine, you’re not being forced into anything Buck.” Evan groaned as he leaned in to capture your lips again, “You are so annoyingly understanding. And I love that about you, it’s one of the many things I love. Including this gorgeous lace.” He joked as he traced the strap of your bra. “Oh hush, what’s going on?”

“Promise you won’t freak out?”

“Promise.” You smiled before grabbing his hands, with wide eyes filled with curiosity staring up at him, he couldn’t help but feel the pressure. “An old friend asked me to be a sperm donor, and before making my donation, I thought it best to uh…” You raised an eyebrow as Evan struggled to find the right words, “To keep my swimmers in the tank, if you catch my drift.”

“I catch your drift, or is it a flow?” Evan rolled his eyes as you raised yourself to kiss his cheek, “I fully understand, you don’t have to be sorry. I think what you’re doing is absolutely amazing Evan, helping to start a family? That’s really sweet of you, but it must’ve been a hard decision.”

And that’s what the loved about you. Your willingness to listen, to wait and understand what you were being told. Most girls Buck had been with had never really seen everything about him, nor understood him. With you felt truly seen, and heard. Never judged. And you were breathtakingly beautiful, which was a nice bonus.

“It was.” He watched as you grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, “If i’m half naked, so are you. Now let’s sit and talk, when did you decide to help them out?”

For the rest of the night, the two of you simply laid in bed and cuddled, looking up at each other. Whilst you talked, Evan found his eyes trailing down your body. The two of you were in your underwear, and you your bra. With you practically ontop of him he found an intruder settling in.

“What is that?” You whined from underneath the covers, “Uh, maybe it’s my phone?” Evan rationalised as you stared at him, “Unless I stole someone’s phone and put it on charge, I don’t think it’s a phone.” Evan tried to stop you before you raised the covers, “Oh.”

“Well hello there.” The pillow was swept from underneath you as Evan buried his face in it, “Don’t,” Your laughter made his heart beat faster, and your hand which circled his crotch made him buck his hips upwards. “Oh god, please don’t.”

“Don’t… what?” Evan buried his head into your shoulder as you continued to tease him, it was the funniest thing you’d seen all day. And a helpless Buck was a fun one. “I like hearing you beg.” He slammed the pillow down onto his lap, “Y—you can’t say things like that!” His cheeks were turning red, whether it was embarrassment from his stutter or your hands, you liked it.

“Sure I can, just did. And you want to know something Evan?”

“Not really.”

“Indulge me,”

“Okay.” Evan gave in as you leaned into his ear, “I don’t sleep well with anything on.” You quickly kissed him before unclasping your bra, throwing your undergarments onto the floor and settling back in.

“Goodnight baby.” You smiled before turning off the lamp.

It was going to be a long night. Evan sat in the dark for about an hour before his situation calmed down, if he was sure of one thing? You were going to be the death of Evan Buckley.

It was donation day, finally.

Evan was practically bouncing off the walls after his shift, zooming down to the clinic before another mishap ruined his donation day. And luckily for him, he was given a cylinder and a few magazines before being sent on his way. His fingers drummed against the wheel of his jeep, he was having a good day.

The only thing better? His date with you tonight. What he hadn’t expected was to come home to candles, rose petals and his favourite girl happily sleeping in bed.

“Uhh, Y/n?” You sat up straight away in bed, “Evan! You’re back!” He walked up the stairs before setting his phone and keys down, “Whoa, you look…” You were wearing one of your favourite sets, and a new favourite of Evan’s, it didn’t exactly leave a lot to the imagination.

And he’d seen more than enough of you.

“Oh god, you look so good.”

“Well you’re extremely lucky, this is all for you. Almost five weeks, you did so well Evan.”

“I did well?”

“Yes you did, and you know what?” Evan shook his head rapidly, he was itching to touch you, “I cleared the day tomorrow for you and me, we can stay here as long as you’d like.” Evan felt weak in the knees, “Oh I love you. Now can I please throw you into bed?” You giggled before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You can do whatever you’d like, Firefighter Buckley.”

“Oh, Firefighter Buckley?” Evan pushed you down to the bed before climbing over you, “Mhm.” His hands lifted your gown slowly, stroking the soft skin, “Now I really want to see you in my coat.”

“Oh? What, with your name on the back? All yours aren’t I?”

“That you are. You’re not gonna be walking for a few days.” Evan teased as he planted kisses along your neck, you raked your hands through his soft hair, “I’m definitely not complaining.”

Hard times have good outcomes, or something like that.

[p0ckykiss]

i dream in the rain (it's you) - jeon jungkook

summary -> if jungkook is the sun, then you are the rain. and jungkook has always loved the rain, so dearly.

warnings -> female reader x jungkook, friends to lovers, pining god, jungkook just yearns, fluff

most of his memories of you are tied to the rain, one way or another.

the earliest of it that he remembers is when you were middle schoolers, the autumn downpour ruining his friends’ soccer game and, effectively, his lunch hour too. jungkook's friends all scatter to find cover, and he does the same, ending up in a direction none of them had gone to. he ends up next to you, too shy to sit on the bench with your dripping clothes, embarrassed at the ugly squelch your muddy shoes make. he simply puts his novel down and hands you a yellow handkerchief, telling you not to catch a cold. it doesn’t do much for your soaked hair, but you return it the next day—folded neatly, smelling of fabric softener—and he gets a smile from you.

jungkook remembers that day; he’d thought you had the prettiest eyes.

it’s raining the first time he sleeps over at your house, giddy when you crush him in a hug upon arrival. he doesn’t sleep much that night, the rain outside soothing as he lies awake, hyper-aware of your soft breathing next to him (of your pretty eyes, your pretty hands, your pretty everything).

by the next morning, he knows that there are three moons in the glow-in-the-dark galaxy of your bedroom ceiling, and that you mumble in your sleep.

it’s raining when jungkook stumbles into a convenience store in tenth grade, cursing at the sky. he loiters in the aisles, not really planning on making a purchase, until he comes face to face with you near the assortment of drinks. he gets steered straight to the little table by the window, you running off with an endearing 'I will buy you something, wait!’, leaving him to watch the raindrops’ race along the glass. you bought him strawberry milk and an umbrella.

(jungkook walks you home that day as a thank you, heat coloring his face when you bump shoulders, huddled close beneath see-through plastic.)

when you leave for university, jungkook catches himself yearning for you every time the skies are a little grey. he finds his heart aches whenever he pulls out the umbrella, his shoulder strangely lonely.

and when you try to teach him piano over the break—fingers over his and your smile gentle as he plays a piece you wrote in your dorm room—spring rainfall pitter-patters against the windowsill as if singing along. jungkook doodles hearts on your notebook when you aren't looking. jungkook finds his stomach twists painfully at how your cheeks redden and how your eyes glimmer when you talk about your new roommate jake. he crosses the hearts out, and squishes your cheeks in his hands—it hides the rose flush, but the warmth of it burns against jungkook's palms, and the shrill annoyance of your yell sears readily at his heart.

it is storming terribly when you call him one night, hesitant and shaky-voiced, to break the news of a bruised heart. jungkook knows neither you nor jake are at fault—but he knows how it hurts. he wishes he could be right at your side, thumbing away your tears and kissing your head, cuddling the pain away. instead, he puts aside his assignment and video-calls you from his own dorm room, cities away. and through the pixelated display and delayed sound, he knows he’s made you laugh.

if he weren’t a mere mortal with questionable caffeine levels in his blood, he’d brave a thousand storms to hear the sound again.

there is no umbrella when jungkook finds a mirror in you, sees his heart’s affections reflected in how your eyes soften when they meet his own. the summer sky falls on you both in timid drizzles, and you stand in the open while people around you hasten to get out of the rain.

“what?”

you bite your lip, and it pinkens in a way that has jungkook's heart in knots so dangerous. your shoulders sag a bit when you repeat, unsurely, “i said, i think i love you.” you look frightened to say it, look like you wish you hadn’t. “i think i always have, maybe.”

jungkook takes your hand before you can curl in on yourself too much. he looks you in the eye when he professes, “you know i love you too, right? just as much, just as… similarly.”

he knows you know, with the way you look apologetic at that. with how your mouth purses, your frown feigning confidence, right before you ask, “did i realise too late?”

jungkook grins, tugging you close. rain droplets have caught along your eyelashes, sparkling across your gaze like the constellations on the ceiling of his childhood bedroom. jungkook brushes away the soaked strands that stick to your forehead, makes room for a spot to land a kiss against. “never too late, not with me.”

you go that specific blush pink that he’d once loathed, curling into jungkook, face against his collar, arms around his waist, grumbling something about i love you, i love you, i love you.

jungkook laughs, and you really do look like fools, drenched to the bone, embracing in the rain. “well, i’ve never stopped loving you.”

because you are the rain to his shine, and he’s always loved the rain. and despite what one may think, loving the rain isn’t so bad after all—not when it lets the sun shine through it, merging into the prettiest colors of love.

[metranart]

Obsessed with Yuji and Sukuna who are inexplicably fascinated by your mere existence . <𝟑

Ft. Yuji x reader, Sukuna x reader. Both, vessel and curse, are thirsty for your unshared attention. Manipulation, gaslighting, horny pink-haired sorcerer, bad decisions, sneaking into your room while you're sleeping, slight! non-con elements.

Yuji was distracted.

His cheeks now own a permanent pinkish hue, his hands sweat an awful lot and his gaze seemed to have an automatic aim to find you.

You had perturbed the vessel of Sukuna.

This had never happened to him before and it worries him…a lot, almost to the point where he blames the king of curses for his recent indecent thoughts.

Yes, that must be it. Sukuna is morphing my thoughts into a perturbing fog of arousal and… depravity. Its definitely him.

Yuji convinces himself each time his eyes drag through the length of your bare legs or when your bra is visible under your white shirts and your round breast bounce when you run or happily jump at a joke he said, its practically hypnotizing and throughfully frustrating to let his mind run rampant.

His imagination is a nagging bitch which wishes to do more than just watch, he can only imagine the way your soft skin will feel under his fingertips.

If your breast will fit in his big, powerful hands and how good it will feel while massaging his dick in between the plump flesh.

Your mouth is a favorite of his, to have your lips wrapped around his meaty length must be nice and to be able to feed you his bitter milk every morning makes him shiver in his sorcerer uniform.

This thoughts are over the line for a sweet and simple boy like him and he cant stop from feel flustered every time but what worries him and has him in red alert is the persistency and the lewd air they were gaining with each day.

Jerking himself off each morning at the pray of your name is not helping to ease the rest of his day, anymore. He has begin to resource to much primitive ways to relax, ways that mortify and ashame him each time he blew his load.

Stole a pair of your panties to wrap his dick while he masturbates, once entered your room and bury his face in your pillow for almost an hour until he felt all his muscles loose. Has taken photos of you, like a thousand photos and the must precious ones where the ones when you had been tranquil sitting on the grass chatting with panda and Toge and your underwear was at display without you noticing it.

Those were his favorite batch and his first aid kit against sleepless nights and cold showers in the middle of the night.

Remembered doing his best effort to dismiss the pang of jealousy that kidnapped him when noticed how Toge’s eyes subtly drifted down to have a peek as frequently as he took a photo.

It was demeaning and wrong to be indulging in those kind of acts towards such a close and cherished friend but you were driving him to the edge just by existing.

Yet, must admit finds some comfort in the fact that he is not the only one struggling.

To have his eyes perch on you has its advantages and those are knowing exactly when the eyes of another sorcerer hover around your figure. He could attribute it to the low number of women in the school but deep inside knew what those looks really meant because he recognized himself in them. 

The hunger, the need, the temptation and your innate and blissful ignorance toward everything. It is intoxicating, making it a hard combo to ignore and that reality makes him feel less dirty and a little bit less like a perv.

The pink haired vessel can even swear he catch Megumi’s gaze glue to the back of your thighs in an occasion but when he looked again his eyes where looking ahead…so, he gave him the courtesy of doubt.

But what actually is raiding his brain to a maddening sharp end is the fact that he’s been standing immobile in front of your bed for almost forty minutes watching you sleep.

In his audacity he slip into your room, only wanted to stare at your face one more time before go to sleep but now that he is there—…is trapped and solely unable to leave. There is nothing wrong with the window he came though or the door without a lock, is only the realization he does not want to leave.

The hot weather has bless his sight with you wearing only a tiny pair of strawberries pattern panties and a white tank top which refuses to cover your breast in its totality.

Bless the thin fabric hugging your curves. 

It is breathtaking privilege to be able to look at you in such a state of relaxation, it almost makes him sigh out loud.

Touch her, she wont mind… a familiar voice whispers in the back of his head. She is deep asleep, Yuji, wont even be the wiser if you let your hand skim over her legs…Certain curse insisted.

Stop being a pussy, boy! And touch her already! 

“Shut up.” The confused boy curses quietly to his other half. Yuji can feel his heart beating out of his chest.

Thump, thump, thump.

His pulse is drumming in his neck, hands hang limp by his sides, fists clench and unclench as a recently acquired nervous tic.

We both know what you are thinking, Yuji–…You been driving me crazy with all your hesitation and damsel sighing, you fucking wimp! Stop ignoring me, brat!...If you want I’ll even pretend it is ME who forces your hand.

The curse teases, wickedly, knowing exactly were to press and when to let go to obtain his price.

“This is wrong-g…” the pink haired boy stammers beginning to feel cornered. 

What is wrong is to be this frustrated–you pathetic, pampered human.

Yuji’s lack of response send the king of curses a silent warning of the reluctance of his vessel. Forcing the immortal to change his tactic to break his will.

If you lend me control—

“No, fucking way–”

Just hear me out, fucking brat! If you lend me control I can submerge her into deep, catatonic sleep till the sun rises. He generously offers and his ruse is rewarded with his host pondering it. It’s a simple enough curse I can perform in the blink of an eye—

“If I let you loose, you’ll hurt her…” Yuji argues keeping his voice a raspy whisper, imperturbable gaze fix in your pleasantly rising breast. “I wont take that chance.”

Not even one hand…? Sukuna teases, sharp smirk peeking out from Yuji’s left cheek. Only lend me control of one hand and I’ll perform the curse and let you be to play all your sick fantasies in the flesh…

Yuji is looking for the trap, the deceit and lies behind his offer but his heavily clouded thoughts don’t let him think straight. The image you present in front of him is devastatingly tempting and infuriatingly irrefutable now that Sukuna offers him a way to be near you without consequences.

To let his growing necessities be satiated by your peaceful and numb self. He’ll be gentle, he swears.

Maybe just one touch wont hurt. He is not releasing Sukuna just lending him one hand and in the way freeing himself from his infatuation with you.

Yuji truly believes if he is able to play some of the heated scenarios raiding his mind, he’ll free his head from those thoughts cause it is just a whim. A vicious whim which refuses to part ways with him.

He does no understands why you rule his every thought, why his stomach feels like butterflies flying inside, why your eyes seem to look direct into his soul.

Maybe just a touch wont hurt anyone, you wont know and he wont tell.

If by chance we get caught…you can blame it on me. Sukuna’s teeth shine reflecting the light of the full moon trespassing through the open window, sharp and sinister stretched grin deforming the pink haired boy’s face. Yuji this is my last offer…take it or leave it, brat!

Yuji has made his mind and in deliberated firm and quiet steps reaches the door, he glances back at your peaceful and vulnerable form and a long, heavy sigh abandons his lips as his hand hugs the doorknob for a minute too long before lock it.

Good boy. The curse thinks pleasantly surprised. He just needs one hand to guide his most diabolic intentions into your vulnerable core. Stupid and horny, brat! Finally he’ll be of some use.

Muting his real intentions towards this night, he smoothly advices. Go on, let me work my magic.

The boy hesitates one last moment pondering between good and wrong, when suddenly you moan in your sleep and rolling over your back a nipple emerges like a close bud from under the frail and thin layer of snow that knows that summer is here.

Big light-brown eyes fall in trance at how you create such a fragile and lewd symphony just be laying peacefully sleep under the pale rays of moonlight and Sukuna feels how the boy grants control of his left hand.

One hard nipple and this boy is about to blow all over his pants, how pathetic. The king snickers and testing his rule over the limb, closes his fist before ordering.

I need to be closer to be able to touch–

“I want to be the first to touch her.” The boy quickly interjects cutting Sukuna midsentence as a deep blush spreads through his cheeks.

Sukuna laughs on the inside at how touch deprived this boy is but this time can relate to the feeling, for he is aching for pussy as well.

You’ll be the first, stupid brat, after all this is your hand. The king of curses says in a condescending tone, fanning the hand in question in front of the pink haired vessel’s face.

“I g-guess is ok, then.” Yuji pouts and begins to close the distance until his hand hovers over your face.

Sukuna places his thumb over your forehead, lightly and a small glint makes you sigh out loud before your body turns limp as a boneless fish.

Tada! Sukuna boasts, gloating at how Yuji immediately uses his other hand and shakes your body to test the efficiency of the curse.

The boy gently pinches your arm and waits for a reaction and earning none, squeezes your cheeks until your lips form an o-shape, a light grin ghosts over his lips when you stay imperturbably sleep, now he truly feels free to plunge into your skin.

His heart races at the possibilities. Too nervous, he sits on the side of the bed and allows his palm to tenderly graze the side of your uncovered breast just to feel the roundness against his fingertips but is not prepare to the soft, firmness that receives him. A shaky breath leaves his lips and growing hasty, carefully slips you out of your thin tank top in a swift motion which makes your breast freely bounce without the fabric on the way.

Most certainly is not ready to behold your perky breast at full display.

Shit! This girl has a nice rack, who would have guessed you had such good taste in women. Sukuna voices and his possessed hand lands placidly over your left mound and to Yuji’s horror, squeezes hard until the plump flesh is slipping in between his rough fingers and his long, black nails are about to break the skin.

“Knock it off! You are going to hurt her.” Yuji is quick to snatch the borrowed hand by the wrist and the curse opens his fingers.

Oh, I see…you just want me as audience to clap at your performance. He spats, amused. Well, I’m not giving you the hand back… so, take this as your first lesson at sharing.

Pulling the limb out of Yuji’s grasp, Sukuna hooks the index finger in one strap of your panties and without ceremony drags the fabric down your bare legs earning a soft groan from your parted lips.

The pink haired boy is about to reach for the rebel hand when your glistening pussy claims his entire attention. A look of pure lust gleams in his brown eyes and Sukuna seizes his chance to change positions.

His mouth materializes in front of the borrowed open palm and his tongue darts out to give a tentative lick to your engorged lips.

Your body unwittingly trembles and his smirk grows feral.

Lost for words, Yuji glances back at your face when you emit the most sensual little gasp and your body begins to squirm under the king of curses ministrations. His large, fat tongue is licking you like a freshly open lollipop and his saliva is coating your pink lips, each lick delivered with such precision it looks almost painful to bear.

Coming out of the daze, Yuji launches for his hand and unplucks Sukuna’s eager lapping tongue from your wet core.

“I said stop, dammit!”

Agh! What now, human!? He chastises, annoyed at the interruption. It’s pretty obvious you are a vulgar virgin who doesn’t know shit about properly touching a woman…so, pay attention and you may even learn something. 

“I’m done with your silver tongue for one night, Sukuna, give me back my hand!” he mutters, angrily.

The moment I give you your fucking hand back her eyes will open wide awake, shitty brat, we have a deal!…I keep her complacent and you lend me a hand…easy peasy! Now stop ruining my fun and get your own!

Yuji feels against the wall and the blade. If you ever find out what he is doing, you’ll hate him and surely never talk to him again. His heart aches just thinking about it and the curse sharing his body senses the fear running through the vessel’s veins.

Too bad, someone is obnoxiously in love…he thinks, patronizingly and knits some dark suggestions for the inexpert boy to follow. He will have his fun but apparently only if this brat stops interrupting.

Tell me, brat, have you ever tasted pussy? He asks, bluntly and Yuji’s face turns as pink as his hair, giving him away.

“Ah-hh…That’s not of your-r business–”

So, no! I can already guess that you haven't done anything fun, you've probably just held her hand for a minute before imploding in your pants. His burst of laughter is cruel but thankfully is short as well.

Unfortunately, I’m a captive witness of how many times you jerk yourself off with this girl’s name as your mantra but what I’m really curious about…Sukuna pauses to transfer his mouth to Yuji’s chest and uses the borrowed hand to held his chin before continue.

…Why are you wasting precious time fighting me when you can have her at your expenses. Fuck her mouth, cum all over her tits, wrap her hand around your cock and make her pump you until you burst—for all I care. Just let me have a little fun, that’s fair deal, isn’t it?

The king of manipulators knew how to pull the strings of temptation fairly well and on purpose had left your cunt out of the proposals, he wanted to enjoy it before the boy destroyed it.

Yuji thinks it through, he may never have another chance to be this near, your so vulnerable like a unwrapped gift waiting for him to claim it. He wants to make you feel as good as you make him feel just by merely breath.

Glancing at your nude figure his crotch sharply awakes to remind him of his promise of release and feeling his heart skip a beat, you stir trashing a little in your sleep and accidentally your hand gently falls on top of his and the pink haired shaman’s will melts like an ice cream under the warm rays of sun.

“Fine-” gulps. “Just promise me you wont hurt her.”

Hurt you? You were going to cum so many times it will hurt but in a good way. But of course that is not what comes out of his mouth. Sarcastically putting his borrowed hand over Yuji’s chest he crosses the boy’s heart. I cross your heart not to hurt her.

Yuji knit his brows at his taunting and Sukuna lazily adds. You know what I mean, princess, don’t be so touchy.

Sharply exhaling air through his nostrils, Yuji releases his wrist and hesitantly, his focus returns to you. His left hand goes out of his line of vision and his eyes widen in awe finally being able to truly admire how pretty you look all relaxed and naked, the moon light washing your nipples and producing a stark contrast with your skin.

In all honesty, Yuji feels spellbound.

Sukuna’s vessel delicately hovers over your sleeping face and gulping, timidly closes the distance until your parted lips are captured by the eager boy in the most slow and devoted kiss anyone could have ever deliver, its intimate and well-thought.

This lip lock is devastatingly tender and meaningful, the way his tongue dances inside your wet mouth ignites your pussy creating new puddles of flavor to the delight of the king of curses furiously lapping at your folds.

Slurp sounds are easily suffocated by the loud moans the pink haired boy emits and separating for sweet air, halts to admire your swollen mouth glistening with his saliva. Feels himself start to loose control and his innocent intentions rapidly turn carnal.

Yuji wants to cover each patch of your soft skin with his fluids, Sukuma was right…he needs to cum on your tits, fuck your mouth and jerk off with your warm palm but he lacks time.

So, he’ll choose his poison for the night and seals your lips for himself with a greedy kiss. His hand gropes your mounds of flesh and relishes in the softness of your bare skin, it feels like silk under his fingertips and it gives him the final push he needs to lose what little restrain he held.

Quickly stripping from his suffocating clothes, he gets back on the bed and hauls your limp body until fits nicely flush to his, skin to skin contact, Yuji takes a moment to enjoy the body heat your proximity produces and taking your arm, gently bends it around his neck for your nipples to greet his face.

Bashfulness is overshadowed by his arousal and he plops the soft flesh into his mouth, devouring your nipples with tentative licks, plunging the hardened nub to tease it with his tongue.

Enthralled forgets about everything and rejoices at how your nipple gets harder and harder the better he sucks, greedily pumping your delicate mound up and down like a newborn.

The king of curses delivers you a third orgasm which shakes your whole body in your tender sleep and opening a diabolic eye is amused out of his mind when sees the supposedly harmless virgin sucking at your nipple as if his life depends on it.

You should try it when there’s milk. His comment is left ignore in the air, for Yuji is willingly slaved by you. Only you exist for him.

Your cunt is trembling from exertion and Sukuna feels satisfied for the moment. He has eat you out like a ravenous beast, almost obsessing with the way your folds twitch and quiver as your juices soak his mouth and now you deserved a well earned rest.

Now you just need to unplug the boy sat on top of your ribcage, straddling you, one hand wrapped around your breast while greedily tries to hump your tits.  

The eager teen has change position and his throbbing cock is nested in between your mounds but his task is left incomplete at the lack of pressure.

“Sukuna give me back my hand, I need it!” His voice sounds thick and heavy with want, highly different from his usual merry and easygoing tune.

The vessel is lost on his own pleasure and desperate for release. The curse notes, seeing an opening. Why would I do that, brat? what's there for me? He inquires, sharp eye fixed on his vessel’s back as his body bluntly straddles your torso.

“Hurry up, I want to cum before dawn.” Yuji heaves, truly in despair, throbbing dick unattended and leaking precum. “Please, I need to–”

Cum? Yes, I heard you the first time, brat…be smart and make it good for me. Lets make a deal. He suggests, taking pleasure on the way Yuji’s body desperately squirms on top of you.

“No fucking way!” he curses out loud to then. “—What do you want?”

I want more than a hand, next time. He simply asks.

“There is not going to be a next time–”

Sure, Yuji, sure…but we both know there is going to be and I want more than a hand, you selfish bastard. 

“How much more?”

We can deal with that next time…sun is rising you ought to answer fast. The curse teases, sadistic tone hanging from his wicked lips. Tic, tac, tic, tac!

“Fine! Just give me a hand.” The pink haired boy is so lost to despair that he misses his poor choice of words and Sukuna is fast to take advantage.

With pleasure. His voice is raspy and cruel as he engulfs your breast inside his big calloused palm, harsh fingers wrap around its plumpness and his mouth materializes in front of the palm once again to let his tongue swirl your hardened nub.

Yuji sees him lapping at you and even not being a fan of what he is looking at, right now is more occupied using the hand to create pressure around his shaft.

A long, husky groan escapes his throat at the warmth and he starts to pump himself between your abused flesh. Your breast is so perfect for pressing together, creating a delicious massage around his cock.

Eyelids shut and mouth hanging open he can feel himself close, slowly building his orgasm to blow his thick cum all over your face.

“Please (y/n), be mine-e… I need you–… please, stop ignoring me!”

In desperate moans and ravenous speed, his heavy balls tense before his load paints your face with musky ribbons of cum. The boy rides the last sparks of pleasure ripping through his body and his panting chest begins to ease, fresh air fills his lungs, slowly and heartbeat relaxes into a peaceful drum.

Lost in the white state of peace can hear Sukuna’s voice yet his eyes remain close.

Phew! Even I must congratulate you, brat, you made a mess out of your precious darling! The curse mockingly laughs at the image.

You were a real, eye-piercing mess, face dripping with fresh cum, breast glistening from layers of saliva, exposed and abused cunt trembling from overuse. It was a captivating scene for the curse, who thought his vessel was a weak little shit but might be mistaken.

Aiming for the grand finale for their first wicked act–lets hope the kid has the balls for many more. Sukuna’s borrow finger starts collecting beads of cum to plunge it gently inside your parted lips letting the thick milk coat your tongue and slip down your throat.

Yuji’s eyes pop open at the motion and marveled by the filthy action, let the curse feed you his cum until your face is almost clean.

Dawn is upon them and profusely cleaning and making sure to leave your clothes exactly how he found them, the pink haired boy steals one last tender kiss before leave your sore and unknowingly, violated self to rest.

Maybe Sukuna is right and this can be an often occurrence, he wants to memorize all your little bumps, beautiful scars and learn to play you like a violin.

After all, he has to be ready for when you decide to realize that you belong to him and only him.

➡️ JJK NSFW ART

[gingersxng]

Cherry Baby

Pairing: f!reader x Mingi x Yunho

Genre: smut 18+, light angst, fluff

Summary: your best friends would do everything for you but would they even get you pregnant?

Notes: sub!reader, dom!yungi, best friends, unprotected sex (always be safe), reader gets pregnant, anxiety, crying, lactation kink, big dick yungi, pregnancy sex, threesome, yungi is obsessed with your tits, boob sucking, mingi drinks your milk, kissing, pet names (honey & darling), pussy play, cum cum cum, blowjob, titty fucking, aftercare, lots of love. may have forgot something!

a/n: this is an idea I’ve had in mind for a long time (cause omg!!) and I finally got motivated to write it. it begins kinda soft but then my period hormones kicked in.. :)

words: 1.8k

Imagine that Mingi and Yunho had been your best friends for almost half your lifetime, they’d become your family members and they did everything for you and that includes taking care of your needs too.

you were in your last year of collage and the boys were two years older than you so they’d got their own jobs. since you’re so close you had decided it was a better idea to get an apartment together rather than live in three different places, cause you always hung out and it was cheaper to split the costs.

you came home late one day cause you’d been drowning in books from morning until now, not a single light was on which meant the boys were either sleeping or out doing stuff. the darkness didn’t do well with your tired eyes and you tripped over the carpet and bumped your head in the shoe stand. a few curses left your mouth while you got up trying to find the light switch.

at the same time you could hear heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and the light turned on, the bright lights cut right into your poor eyes. you were met with a tired Mingi, his hair looked like a bird’s nest and his pyjamas pants hung low on his hips.

“you’re home now? where have you been?” he asked while trying to open his eyes properly. “I’ve been at school reading and studying all day and all I wanna do now is find my bed” you almost cried out. Mingi gave you a big hug squeezing you tight into his warm bare chest, it was his way to show you how much he cared about you and you loved him for that. he walked you to your room and kissed you goodnight, but before he reached the door you already wanted him back.

“can’t you stay?” you whispered not knowing if he would hear you. Mingi came to an halt and turned around, a tired smile formed on his face as he walked back towards your bed. “of course I can” he slipped under the covers with you and brought you close to his body. your heart skipped a beat and you could feel how you got closer and closer to dreamland.

since it was your last year many days would look like this, you would study and then come home late and end up sleeping with both Mingi and Yunho. none of you had nothing against it cause it just felt so right and you were so safe with each other as well.

until one night when you ended up with both of them in your bed, they were taking turns fucking you hard into the mattress, the bed frame squeaking with every trust, and you did get complaints from your neighbours the next day. it was the first time you had sex with both boys at the same time… and because you never used condoms it resulted in something unexpected (well not really).

lately you had been feeling very sick and your hormones had been kinda wild too, both Mingi and Yunho had begun to notice the sudden change and had to ask you one day if it was what they thought.

they joined you on the couch and asked you right away. “y/n? are you alright?” Mingi put a hand on your thigh brushing the thumb slowly over the skin. you furrowed your eyebrows together at the sudden question. “we’ve noticed that you’re nauseous often and more moody than usual” Yunho cut in. you could feel how your eyes began to tear up and the tension in your body got hotter, you were about to explode. “are you?” Yunho looked you in the eyes waiting for an answer he already knew. you began to cry and the anxiety took over, your breathing got shorter and faster and your mind went blurry, it felt like you would pass out any second. you were comforted by your big bears, they hugged you tightly and did their best to calm you down.

“it’s gonna be alright, we’re here with you” Mingi kissed your forehead. Yunho dried your tears and kissed your cheek “we won’t leave you, we knew there would be a risk when we didn’t use condoms”. they always made you get both feet back on earth and you could feel a little more relaxed after hearing their words. “who’s is it?” Mingi brushed a hair behind your ear. “I don’t know” you whispered. “it doesn’t matter, we’ll both take care of the baby” Yunho gave you a smile. “do you want anything?” you were silent for a while trying to think of anything. “maybe those haribo cherries you love so much?” they really knew you so well and you couldn’t help but to break out in a joy of laughter.

- 4 months later -

Yunho were hovering over you thrusting deep into your pussy as he dragged out soft moans from you, he placed small kisses on your neck down to your swollen breasts, small droplets of milk spilled out as he began to squeeze them. “I swear it’s so damn hot when you leak” Yunho grunted as he sped up his thrusts. Mingi were kissing you passionately, your tongues dancing together making your body tingle. ever since you got pregnant all you wanted was to get your pussy destroyed by their big cocks and they were sure to give it to you.

they loved giving you everything you asked for, hugs, comfort, advice, food, kisses and of course sex, lots of it.

Yunho buried his face in the crook of your neck and his breathing became heavier, his thrusts got sloppier. your eyes were shut tight enjoying every single second of your intimate time together, a sudden wave of pleasure washed over you as you felt Yunho guide his hand down to your clit. he slowed down his thrusts and focused more on your swollen bud, holding himself up with one hand he looked down at your pussy and then back on your face giving you a smirk. “are you gonna cum for me honey?” he raised an eyebrow at you, now flicking your bud harder. you gave him a nod biting your lower lip, the tension in your abdomen about to burst any moment.

Mingi helped you chase your orgasm, he latched on to your sore leaking nipples and you felt how your mind got completely blank. attacking your neck Yunho let go of your clit and pushed his cock deeper touching the right place for you to finally cum. riding out your orgasm he fucked you harder to get his own release, it didn’t take many thrusts until a deep broken groan left his mouth, his dick twitched and you felt a hot wave of cum entering your pussy. Mingi let go of your nipples, milk running down his chin, Yunho gave your nose a kiss before he pulled out and went for a towel to clean you up with.

Mingi did a quick run to the kitchen and came back with a bag of cherry gummies. “you deserve this now for being a good girl” he whispered giving you a kiss. you rested your back against the headboard and opened the pack of your favourite gummies, Yunho came back from the bathroom with a warm towel and gently cleaned up the cum on your inner thighs, he gave your belly bump a kiss followed by a soft smile. you catched an eye on Mingi and he met you with a smile, his dimples showing.

“you didn’t get your turn..” you gave him a pout putting another gummy in your mouth. “it’s alright darling, you need some rest now” he said squeezing your thigh. deep down you knew he suffered on the inside cause your horny boy loved to fuck, he always wanted you to go first before his own needs. you put the bag away and got up from the bed placing yourself on your knees in front of the bed, both of them watched you with big eyes at your sudden action. you tapped the edge of the bed for Mingi to sit and he did as he was told, you didn’t let a second go to waste as you grabbed the hem of his sweats and pulled them down with his boxers. his thick cock slapped against his stomach and was leaking precum at the tip, he groaned as you slowly began to lick his irritated head, your hand pumping him too.

Mingis hands went to grab your hair guiding you up and down his enormous length, he let his head fall back and he bit his lip so hard he could taste blood. “fuck just like that, mmh”. you sucked him faster and harder and you could already feel how his cock twitched in your mouth, you let go of his dick with a pop and kissed the tip “it tastes like cherries” you licked your lips. Mingis eyes rolled back into his head, his large hands cupped your breasts and squeezed them to make you leak more milk. “you have a thing for lactation huh?” you teased him as you played with them. the boy swallowed hard and you could see how his pupils got dilated, his sex brain was on hard drive.

you took your breasts in your hands and put Mingis cock between them, up and down you fucked his cock with your tits. his eyes were glued to the pornographic scene in front of him, you made him into a groaning mess. you pumped him one last time before he came on your chest, neck and chin. you got up to give him a kiss, tasting a mix of himself and cherry gummies. “we have to get you pregnant more often” Mingi said laughing trying to catch his breath. you gave him a not so amusing glare but you knew he was joking.

Yunho had changed into his sleeping shorts and he gave you his oversized shirt for you to sleep in, it was oversized for him so you almost drowned in it. both of you got to bed and cuddled for a while, his large hand caressing your belly. “can’t wait to meet this little one” he looked at you with eyes filled of love. Mingi got back and joined you under the warm covers.

there you were between the two most important people of your life and to soon be fathers to your baby, it couldn’t be better. “you’re gonna be the best daddies” you giggled. they couldn’t help but laugh at your comment. “you’re gonna be an excellent mommy” Yunho smiled at you. “we love you both so much” Mingi said rubbing your baby bump.

you stayed like that for a while before you all drifted off to sleep, all four of you.

[star-har]

fading

it’s your birthday.

gojo’s been dreading it.

it had felt like carrying a heavy weight— a boulder that grows in size as the days passed by, until the calendar finally marked what he’s been fearing.

when he wakes up on your morning, he can’t get out of bed. doesn’t see a reason to.

it’s raining, loud and relentless. the drops patter against his windows, almost somber and melancholy and angry— as if the world itself is mourning your loss.

he doesn’t blame it. the world should be mourning, now that its one shining light and been burned out.

it’s late afternoon when he clambers from his bed, bounding to the kitchen to make his usual coffee; he used to make two. yours would be simple— coffee, milk and sugar. a complete contrast to his own, filled with syrups and chocolate and anything sweet his hands could find.

he would cringe in disgust as you sipped at it, wondering just how you drank yours such bitterly.

he only makes one cup now.

with the exception of the morning he’d woken up from a dream with you. he’d sauntered off to make your cup, assuming you were in the bathroom, and it was midday that it had dawned on him— you were only a dream.

your cat, mochi, is curled up on the couch, pawing aimlessly at where you usually loved to sit.

it’s the perfect view, you’d like to say as you scratched mochi’s belly, the sky looks beautiful from here.

she knows what day it is too. gojo had caught her waiting by the door as your birthday lingered nearer, waiting for your nonexistent arrival.

‘she’s not coming back, damn it,’ gojo would mutter as she pawed at the door. but the stubborn cat would return back to her post everyday without fail.

he decides to stand out on the balcony, despite the thundering rain. he’s remembering the way you’d hug his waist from behind and pepper kisses into his skin as you two watched the sun disappear, being replaced by the moon.

he grinds his teeth and throws his coffee on the floor, the glass shattering and scattering.

you’re everywhere— and it’s almost as if it’s amplified today. the one day gojo already feels like he shouldn’t be here. not without you by his side.

he curses and closes the balcony door, sweeping the glass so your cat won’t hurt herself. you’d kill him if she ever did.

he shrugs on his coat and leaves his flat after, stopping by a flower shop that you’d love to visit.

each, and every time, you’d pause by the pretty, pink lilies. with gentle fingers, you would caress their stems and sniff their fragrance— that beautiful smile always staining your mouth.

he sees them today. they’re beautiful, dainty. but the muted pink is replaced by a brighter one, full of life and colour and beauty.

as if they were a reincarnation of you. the love of his life given form again.

he picks them up with agile hands like you’d always do, making his way to the cashier.

the lady at the register seems surprised to see him there. “gojo, dear?” she says, thin lips pursing with a smile. “it’s been so long, sweetie.”

he hadn’t really had the courage to step into this shop when you passed last year— this has been his first time in a very long while.

“i’ve been busy, mrs. murphy.” he says the words softly but can hardly find it in himself to muster up a smile.

she seems to understand because she doesn’t pry and lets gojo leave with no more question. he’s grateful.

he places them in his car with the same gentleness you’d have, and reverses out of the parking lot.

your grave is a knife in his chest. a sharp stab that hurts and is recurring and painful because seeing it makes it so much more real than gojo thought it would.

as if all those months of reaching to your side of the bed to be met with cold emptiness hadn’t been because you were gone to use the washroom or to brew late night tea.

you were gone. you are gone. gojo can’t do anything about it.

he cries. he hasn’t cried since your funeral. he drops to your grave— polished with no rust because he’d paid monument care a hefty price to maintain your resting place. it only makes sense— for your grave to be as beautiful as you.

he places the flowers on the grass, tucking it into the mud so the wind doesn’t carry them away.

his tears mix with the rain, still thrumming down on him hard.

the rain continues as he spends hours there. wordless, quiet, staring with you as the sky turns pink and then dark blue.

he leaves before he can cry again and when he comes home, gojo pads off into your library. he hasn’t been there since you left him, but it’s a sudden urge— like he needs to feel you again in anyway he can.

mochi’s already there, scratching at the door, meows woeful.

he twists the door handle, and with a deep, shuddering breath, pushes in.

flowers. vanilla. love. your smell hugs him so tightly and gojo has never felt so warm. your embrace only tightens as he slips further into your library, fingers tracing shelves as mochi purrs after him, her paws scratching the wooden floorboards.

he stops by your window seat, heart breaking a little as he sees the book you’d been reading before you died. a classic— pride and prejudice.

he drops onto the seat and picks it up, mochi following in his wake. the fat, ginger cat curls up in his lap— he knows mochi is pretending. hoping he’ll give her the same feeling you used to.

in truth, no one can. your presence is one no one can replace nor match.

she meows in his lap, mourning. sad.

“I miss her too, mochi,” gojo says and pats the cat on its head.

the two sit there, long into the night, as gojo reads where you’d left off. you’d do this a lot, have mochi and gojo huddle around you as you read aloud to them.

he wishes he could remember how you sound. your voice had been a comforting melody to his ears, something that never failed to ease gojo’s pain away.

but as the days ticked by, his memory had grown to lose it.

had grown to lose nearly everything about you. your eyes, your smile, your singing. everything.

gojo cries again. he can’t help it. no matter how hard he grinds his teeth or how strong he fists his hands. he doesn’t try to stop the flooding, either. he needs this. needs a good cry to remember you and miss you.

only when mochi has gone to sleep in his lap and gojo reaches the final page to your story, closing his eyes, does he feel it.

a soft brush of wind.

the rain had stopped, being replaced by a humid and quiet night. odd for the wind to be out. but he feels it, nonetheless.

feels a breeze brush past his cheek, wisp through his hair and ruffle mochi’s fur.

he feels you. your warm embrace, your soft touch. and everything in gojo’s body calms. his thoughts quieten, his heart thrums steadily, his tears dry.

it’s you— he knows it. he’s never believed in an afterlife or anything alike it, but you could make him believe in everything and anything.

it’s you. your love, your touch, your kiss.

you engulf him with a hug that feels so natural and beautiful and gojo finds that this is peace. this is what he lives for— remnants of you and your love lingering in unexpected places and unforeseen ways.

you were always like that, in a sense. unpredictable and so, so peaceful.

gojo falls asleep soon, to the hum of your love and your whisper on the wind. and he finds it’s the best sleep he’s had in a while.

———

did I cry 10 times while writing this? yes. I hate angst. but oh how I loooooveee it.

I can never bring myself to right angst because I always end up making the ending a happy one but today I sat down and was like I need a good cry and I threw up this.

i hope it made u sad as much as it made me sad… <3

kisses and lots of love,

har xx

[starboye]

starring: charles xavier x male reader x scott summers x logan howlett

request: I wanna be like Logan so badly (I want to be dicked down by every xmen)

warnings: smut, reader passed around, blow job (scott receiving), cursing, some rough sex, unprotected sex

this but with reader getting passed around the mansion by the x men, mainly scott, logan, and charles just calling you to their room through the night to empty their balls. first it was charles telepathically calling you "y/nnn" he said in a sing songy tone "yes charles" you say rolling your eyes, you were just trying to read a little before going to bed but it seemed like charles knew just when you'd be most calm just to get you to come to his room.

"would you mind making a quick trip for some alone time" he asks and you could just hear it in his voice, the smugness of him "and why would i want to do that" you ask still reading your book "it'll only be really quick darling" he croons and after a little consideration you agree and quietly make your way to charles room down the hall walking into him already pumping his cock in his hand, charles had you moaning and whimpering as he made you ride his dick, flashing images of your past hookups into your mind.

making you cum three times before he tuckers himself out and thanks you for your help by giving you a couple kisses and sending you on your way but soon you're getting called over by scott, pulling you into his room and begging you to suck him off after hearing you fuck charles, you agree just to get him to stop pestering you, dropping to your knees and pulling his cock out to start throating it back and forth while scott tried to hold in his whiny moans.

but there was a certain someone listening in on all of it but we'll get to that later, the man that was scott was slow;y thrusting into you mouth, aching to cum in your mouth already "m'sorrry for doing this it's just jeans been gone for so long" a slew of apologies fall from his mouth as he grips your hair and shoves his cum down your throat, you gagging at the forcefulness of the man "you done" you ask wiping your mouth of his cum "mhm" he whimpers and you walk out from his room just to get tugged by logan into his room.

"you open to take another cock" he whispers fondling your ass "for you? always" you roll your eyes before logan throws you onto the bed and rips off your underwear to reveal your ruined ass "damn wheels did a good job on you" logan smirks slapping your ass before he's thrusting into you at an ungodly rate for someone his age but none the less you take every inch of his aching cock while his balls slap against your ass turning you into a moaning mess that i think anyone in the hall could hear but at the time logan thought shoving your face into a pillow was a good idea.

and sooner than expected logan was flooding you even fuller with his cum "shit you sure know how to milk guys" logan huffs pulling out of you with small shudders through his body "thank you" you pant taking a moment to regain your breath "stay in here tonight" logan asks rubbing your back soothingly "as much as i would love to i know how you get in the morning and i would much rather be able to walk tomorrow" you laugh wrapping a towel around you waist after seeing your torn underwear and walking back to your room to plop down on your bed, quickly dozing off from the exhausting task of draining these men.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft

[str4ngr]

a weekly routine. [ megumi fushiguro ]

cw: fluff, established relationship, gn! reader. notes: stuck w bad connection so im just trying to post something bc writers block is up my ass rn. not proofread

he never like pancakes that much. it's not that they're bad, inherently. rather, it was never a part of his regular diet that tsumiki worked so hard to ensure would always be there. cereal with milk and a glass of juice or water.

megumi quickly became accustomed to the somewhat nostalgic taste of delicate, crunchy honey, washing his milk-mustache off at the sink, and slipping on his shoes to walk to morning training. when lukewarm water running over his hands as he finished cleaning dishes, soft towel brushing over his skin as he dried his hand, lingering scent of soap roaming around the small bathroom, all of it was normal to him.

but life changes, his life changed. day after day, new people, new curses, new problems, everything constantly changed. but his cereal always tasted the same, milk still clung to his upper lip, his bathroom still smelt like lavender.

when he first started his relationship with you, he didn't really think it would change much. but suddenly his cereal was now slightly burnt toast and fried eggs. now he fought back smiles as you teased him for his faux mustache. now the lavender was a new scent as you bought random sets of scented soaps. now instead of walking straight to practice and being the first one there, the two of you would take the 'scenic route' and end up the last ones there.

suddenly the quilts he usually piled on during winter were replaced by a fluffy, thick duvet that wouldn't even be for him because someone was a blanket hogger. it never bothered him though.

it never bothered him when he woke up first, half covered by his old quits and the remaining length of your duvet, because he saw your face. drooling from one corner of your lips, a dark stain beside your cheek as you make strange sounds. he loved how your hair was a mess, wispy strands bothering your eyes.

he loved the winter—the winter with you. the way you clung to him as he fried eggs. or when you leaned on his shoulder, half asleep as warm water flowed over the four hands crammed into the sink. he loved when you whined as the front door open and cold air wafted into his warm home.

your warm home.

"our home."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

directory

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I’ve read a variation of soft and rough König and I’ve enjoyed both but I’d love to see your take on his character.

I can’t deny I have a preference for soft König. I think his size is a major concern, especially if his partner is on the smaller side, which leads me to believe he’d prolong the inevitable and the pining and anticipation would be off the charts on his end. But maybe his SO thinks he’s not as interested as she initially thought.

Add in the fact that he’s gone for long periods of time in which there is little or no communication and perhaps she considers moving on. The ol’ miscommunication trope if you will, with a happy ending. Thanks!

Overflow the Stars

Pairing: König x F!Reader

Synopsis: One more abandoned date night later, you're left wondering if the man you're infatuated with is really interested in you at all.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Angst, feelings of insecurity, body issues, allusions to König's past w. bullying & his anxiety, size difference, fluff, soft!König, happy ending

A/N: This is my apology to the German-speaking people out there - I think I butchered your language (feel free to correct me). I'm so sorry lmfao. But, Anon, this request was adorable to write, hope you enjoy it!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wanted to say you were surprised when he didn't show up – really, you did – but in the back of your mind, you already knew he wouldn’t. It was hard not to feel disappointed when you swirled your tiny cup of Franziskaner tensely, watching the whipped cream sink away into the concoction of dark espresso and milk; calling attention to the same feeling in your chest.

König had a strange habit as of late, and with a delicate furrow in your brow and perhaps even a smidge of sadness in your eyes, you wondered what you had done wrong. Why had he been avoiding you so…violently? While you wouldn’t have called yourself perfect by any means, nothing you had done over the course of your meetings was strange or downright embarrassing. 

You admitted that the man had never been the type to run away from something, and sighed as you brought the cup to your lips and sipped. Caffeine sits on your tongue along with a bitter revelation as the rain begins to pick up in velocity outside. The small and quiet café where you’re spending your afternoon is warm and unburdened by the weather. 

Do you think…he’s even interested in me anymore? The sharp thought brings a pang to your chest, fingers over the warm cup flinching back as if struck with lightning. O-or he doesn’t like being around me?

Your relationship was still new, very new, and if you were asked you would say it wasn’t even dating yet. König hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend. 

But it had still been going well.

“Or so I thought,” you take a breath, watching the fog on the window as the streets of Vienna are rapidly being emptied of tourists and locals alike. Your shoulders are painfully tight.

Aggressive rainfall like this into the cold seasons was unusual, but it wasn’t like mother nature cared about the whims of anyone but herself. It’ll freeze overnight, leaving a bitter chill that puffs from breaths and a shaky few steps out the door across hardened ice. You’d probably go out – alone – for a walk in the morning to clear your head, or try, at any rate.

Lately, all you could think about was the bear of a man that was supposed to be sitting in the empty seat ahead of you. The cursed wooden chair burns your eyes; its dark wood and red cushion stab your vision over and over until you’re sure you’ll bleed tears instead of water. 

He was supposed to be here.

Taking another shaky sip of your drink, one that König had recommended to you himself a few dates ago, the brief moments of warmth it brings to your bones does little to satisfy you. You doubted anything short of a hulking figure trying to stick their knees under the small table could do just that.

The giant man you called your possible future boyfriend was avoiding you, and your subconscious was breaking itself to try and understand why. As if that gracious plea had been heard above the glossiness of your eyes and the gentle hum of the café workers who shuffle about, the phone in your pocket jumps. 

You don’t want to admit how fast your hand snapped to your thigh, sneaking under the layers to draw out black metal. A single link to König when he was overseas or out of sight that you were told was unwise to use. He was rarely able to answer you, but for what it was worth, he always tried to call back later. 

Even if recently, it had been a brief state of events. 

“I-I can’t talk right now–”

“Forgive me–”

Your lips thin.

Pulling the phone out, you immediately look at the contact, though you already know the message before you read it. The sunken whipped cream finally falls under deep chocolate-colored waves.

“Sorry, Bӓrchen, I’m stuck in the building for the day! I swear I’ll make it up to you for missing–” You don’t bother reading the rest, thumb already scrolling upward to see the numerous times other excuses have been made. 

His parents were needing some help moving furniture, he was drowning in post-operation reports, or simply just too tired. You weren't stupid. But every time you had stuffed down your pride and responded cheerfully, dressed to the nines and standing in your living room while your fingers shook over the keys.

Holding back tears. 

It would hurt less if he’d just tell you to your face what you were thinking. Maybe all of this was just… 

Your thoughts trail off. 

But that didn’t make sense – König was never malicious!

Placing down the phone, you leave him on read, feeling the pitying eyes of the baristas burning into your skin like a brand. They knew as well as you did that he wasn’t showing up.

When he calls sometime later, you shut the device off completely. Staring out the window at the dimming light, you lean your head into the glass and try not to cry as you watch couples rushing for cover from the rain; laughing and holding the other close. 

The empty chair stays motionless in the corner of your eye.

—

The first time you met König, you were left gaping at the sheer size of him. 

Towering over ninety percent of the other patrons in the art shop, he had looked down at the package of charcoal pencils in his large, scarred, hands. Turning them over to read the description on the back like an expert with delicate eyelashes that you’d kill for. 

You yourself had been cast in his shadow quite by accident, looking along expansive shelves for a sketchbook – your friend had gotten into a watercolor phase lately, and what better to give her than a birthday present she could actually use? The only problem was that you had no idea what was considered good quality or not, but had a strange suspicion the man beside you did. But what a happy accident it all turned out to be.

König had a black surgical mask on, but the milky-white scar that ran up his right eyebrow and disappeared into his auburn hairline was still starkly visible. Expressive dark eyes blink down at his object from a surprising height. Between picking up multiple books, running your fingers over the paper and whatnot, you can’t help but stare at the pure strength the man emanates. Compared to you, he was utterly gargantuan in both mass and height. A bear and a bee, you thought with a stifled giggle.

He blatantly appeared to know more about this stuff than you did as he placed the charcoal pack down and picked up another.  

“Erm,” you begin, and his head snaps down to yours immediately, head of hair falling into gentle curls near the ears. He had looked partially surprised to hear you speak to him, and his eyes had flickered around instinctually. But it was only the two of you in the aisle. “I’m sorry to bother you, Sir, but you seem to know a helluva lot more than me about art supplies.” Your voice was cautious, and you were afraid you’d seem rude for disturbing him, but all he did was stare and wait for you to finish speaking. Feet every so often shifting, or his hands twitching as if he never was able to stay still; he blinks a few times like a rabbit. “Any suggestions for watercolor?” A small laugh meets the air as you move your hand to show off the wall of possible options for paper. “I’m not much of an artist, but my friend’s birthday is coming up – thought I’d get her something she’d actually use this year. She wasn't too enthralled with the plant I got her for her twenty-third. Killed the thing in a week.” 

A nervous chuckle is softly met and your face heated as his own did. There’s a moment of a clearing throat before the man nods carefully, and the sparse freckles over his forehead shift. His biceps flex.

“O-of course, Ma’am,” his accent is quite strong, and you like the guttural raspiness of his tone. “I prefer Saunders Waterford, though I don’t manage to use it often. Better, eh, was ist das Wort?” He stumbles for a moment over the proper descriptor. “Beständig. Durable.”

A tilt of his head later, and you’re beaming, picking up the large pad with careful fingers, testing the weight in your palms as one would an apple. 

“Wonderful! It looks like I owe you one, eh?” Looking back up, you watch his eyes widen as you notice him blatantly staring. Face crinkling into a shy display of heat and curiosity, he slightly moves back, a large hand going to scratch at the base of his neck as his sweatshirt bunches. 

Chest tight, you stick out a hand and offer your name with a smile. It was only customary, but the action was pure instinct more than thought-out. All the while restraining a shiver, his limb encompasses yours so completely and radiates a large amount of heat.

“A pleasure,” your voice wavers, but it’s not so much nervousness as it is genuine intrigue. For a man so blessed with the tall gene, he really had a considerate hold – barely squeezing your skin in fear it would break. 

The action makes your chest squeeze.

“Ah, guten tag,” he utters, nodding with a firm shake, though his eyelashes caress his cheeks as his eyes rove away, “König.” 

A bit awkward, isn’t he? You have to ask yourself. Not that it was a bad thing – in fact, you found the nervous tensing of his thighs to be cute, along with that red tinge that was over his pale ears. So very opposite of how you expected him to act.

That was when you noticed the dog tags, as well, though you found no purpose to say anything. But everything about this man had caught your attention as a large billboard would, and the comparison has you practically bending in laughter. He probably could be a billboard with a build like that. No doubt he’d catch a lot of attention.

You tilt your head and release his hand, nodding to König’s charcoal pencils. 

“I bet you can make some killer drawings with those things, huh?” The beast twists them in his hand and turns down to stare at the supplies as if he’d forgotten they’d been there at all. “You draw often?”

“Ja,” his eyes brighten, and the crinkling of his eyes tells you that a small smile pulls at his lips. “Whenever I’m able. I,” König pauses before his shoulders move in a soft movement akin to a shrug. “I…find it calming.” 

Your ribs move in reaction to an interested sound. 

A bear that likes to draw.

“You’re better than me, I’d just get frustrated if something doesn’t look right.” A deep laugh echoes off the shelves before a lapsing silence settles like a bird’s wings. Overcome by a sudden urge to speak, yet having no other words to say, König’s voice meets your ears before you can find something to say.

It’s slow, the tone, bathed in hesitation and even a smidgen of armor; like the outcome of your response was already measured and taken as null compared to the giant’s own thoughts.

“I…don’t suppose I could show you some if you’d be interested.” At your widening lids, his twitching hands come up to his sides, eyes blinking rapidly as a vermilion hue blossoms like a flower over his visible skin. Dark eyes like broken obsidian pay more attention to your shoes than your face.

“N-not, eh, scheiße, I only meant I–” Watching him stutter was similar to what a high schooler would do when he was called out during an assembly. Though, your giggle makes him clear his throat and pause with a stiffening spreading to his legs. His body seems to deflate, taking your reverence for his soft inward nature as making fun or at worse, a blatant rejection. The delicate makeup of his psyche was on display, though you didn’t know. “I’m…I’m sorry, Ma’am–”

“I’d love to see your artwork, König,” you begin, pulling the watercolor pad closer to your body instinctually, cheeks hot. The man perks up, and you can see his heart hammering through his clothes when his eyes blaze with light. “How about I give you my number and I’ll text you a day I’m free and we can work something out? A local café or library sound good?”

“I…yes, that sounds wonderful.”

—

You throw your soaked coat on the hook as you shut the door, hating how the frigid rainwater had wetted your hair, though still holding it as a blessing. At least no one could see the tear tracks as you walked back to your apartment. 

Kicking off heavy boots and peeling the slick layers of fabric from your chest with a sloping sound, you flick on the lights with a shaking finger and a sniffle. Wet footprints are left over the rugs and hardwood as the phantom shuffles over them, beelining to the bathroom to strip. 

Your mind was preoccupied as you slipped out of heavy fabric, the pile already on the floor creating a large puddle that you threw a towel on and left as it was. 

“He…he’d tell me if he didn’t like me anymore, right?” Whispering, the broken words meet air as you toss on a large shirt – the hem meeting your knees as a pair of thick sweatpants follow. 

Quite the look for someone who was having an internal battle. Your friends would say you looked like you were minutes away from grabbing a tub of ice cream and sobbing over a rom-com. The quick-witted part of you confessed that the idea wasn’t even that bad if you threw in a glass of beer. Preferably the shitty kind so you could complain about it and distract yourself.

“Get it together…” You would not cry over a guy that hadn’t even asked you out officially, but with that familiar sting in the back of your eyes, you hissed that König wasn’t just any guy.

You’d really liked him, and for what it was worth, your heart would have exploded if he had asked you out. 

He was kind – respectful. Utterly adorable when he was speaking so passionately about his artwork and his parents who he held on a larger-than-life pedestal. König’s heart was just as big as his body, that gorgeous, bear-like body, and…oh, you’d wished he would like you just as much as you liked him. 

Before you could stop the wave of hopelessness, the tears were already dribbling down your face, and the dark apartment was echoing with the barely-there sobs that hit the walls.

—

When you hadn’t answered him in the next two hours and his calls were going to voicemail, König was hit with a train’s worth of worry. Feet tapping faster than unusual and eyes were finicky as they passed over documents.

Although his contract with KorTac wasn’t exactly like his own had been in the military, the hyper-vigilance was still ingrained bones-deep. The Austrian man held his personal relationships tightly – and if someone wasn’t answering him, the anxiety reserved for large, uncontrollable, crowds reared its ugly head. König wasn’t sure when it had happened, but you had entered that loyal group consisting of his parents and a few work friends in an incredibly small amount of time. 

He really should have bit the bullet and gone out with you today, the man acknowledged as he slipped out of his office and tried once more to get in contact with you. König watched the icon of your smiling face go straight to the familiar voice that in any other circumstance, he would have wanted to listen another moment too.

“...Thanks for calling! I’m not able to speak with you right now, but go ahead and leave a message–”

“Come on, Bӓrchen.” König lightly growls, hanging up and stuffing the infernal device into his cargo pant’s side pocket. 

His usually hidden face was twisted up with worry, so commonly lit with bloodlust on Ops now left in a state of unknown. It was stupid to think like this, but how could he not? In such a small amount of time, you’d made him fall for you like a bird does the sky; that thin line between falling and flying caught underwing. 

That was why he’d been making excuses, you see. 

You were so…good…that he’d been worried about the way he carried himself; second-guessed small actions like a hand on the small of your back in public, or a comment about how nice you looked. 

Did she take that the wrong way?

Why did I tell her that?

I hope she doesn’t think that I’m rude…

You were messing with his mind with every turn, but it wasn’t even all that, either. His size also played a part. Your form was so small as it trailed beside him on walks through the city – it fit in the clutch of his arm easily. 

König was just scared he might break you, he’s never had to be…gentle so often before. It was against everything he’d been taught in the last decade or so.

Pushing open the front door of the KorTac: Private Military Contractor building, the man pushes on with a frown over his scarred lips and a drawn-in expression. He hadn’t even noticed he’d forgotten his surgical mask in his office, along with a jacket, and braved the volatile winds and slapping rain in a slight jog, an athletic shirt tight across his chest. 

By the time he’d reached your apartment building, his hair was dark and stuck to his skin, slight puffs of breath escaping his lips and wracking shivers along his spine. König ascended the stairs in double steps, agile as his heart pounded. 

Being ex-military left him with an undeniable state of readiness.

With heavy knuckles and panting breath, his hand quickly rasps against the door, and after a second of no sound, he does it again. 

“Bӓrchen, it’s me. Are you there?” König’s shoulders are set, ready to batter the door down at the barest hint of something wrong. He calls your name but like a voice on the wind, there’s no answer. Not even a shadow under the barrier, a whiff of your shampoo.

Grunting, strained eyes going grim, the man’s hand encompasses the handle, arm and body going parallel to the wood. His hips tense, feet grinding over the floor as they set. But the nearly missed footsteps that his ears twitched at gives him pause. 

After a few moments of intense listening, his body stone-stiff and eyes spaced out, there’s a clicking of a lock. 

König moves back swiftly, hands going to rest at his sides, and when your face graces his vision, a large weight is lifted. Until he realizes that your eyes are red-rimmed. His lids go startlingly wide, fingers coming up to curl into themselves near his middle, but you speak before he does.

With a hatred for interrupting others, König keeps his lips sealed and watches with a concerned once-over and nervous lungs.

Your hand is clenched over the door frame, the muscle of your tongue licking at your lips as beads of water fall from your locks. 

“What are you doing here, König?” With a voice more hoarse and dry than a desert. The man itches at the side of his hawk nose, hesitant about what he sees. 

You’d never been like this before – always so happy. 

“I…” He trails off quietly, seeing your eyes unwilling to meet his own. “Are you…alright?” 

The Austrian’s fingers jerk when you laugh, and a surprised blink later he’s coming closer to check on you, hand almost outstretched before he sees the size difference and thinks better of it. He just taps on your cheek instead, delicately, like a hit from a flower. 

“Sweet one? Please tell me what is wrong. You weren’t answering your phone.” He wants to beg for you to look at him, plead. “It made me worry for you. Why did you not respond?” 

“So you want me to respond when you’re obviously bailing on me for what,” you pull back, disappearing partially behind the door. König watches with a still body as your arms go to wrap around your waist, dread creeping up his throat. “The third time? Fourth? I guess I’ve lost count.” 

The man’s lips go thin, eyes crinkling as an expression of pure self-hatred takes hold. He had stupidly hoped you wouldn’t notice that. When times got tough for him in the past – whether with the schoolyard bullies or an operation on wrong, avoidance was usually his best tactic; it was one he had fallen back into time and time again without fail. But he’d never told you that. 

And now he looked like a proper Arschloch. 

But you’re not done yet. When you leave the door open and disappear inside the dark apartment, König follows after like a lost puppy, water still dripping from his strong chin and stuck in his stubble. Cursing himself out in his head. 

“Ach, du Depp, jetzt hast du‘s getan. Die eine gute Sache ruiniert, die du hattest, oder...?" He mutters, slipping out of his boots and frantically looking after you as your form goes to the couch. König closes the front door and stays in the foyer, fingers twiddling and mouth opening and closing. 

You hadn’t even looked at him yet, and you’d barely seen him without a mask on. 

The Tv was on, playing some show that he’d never seen and he doubted you were watching. Your body plops to the couch with a shrieking of springs and bouncing of pillows. A small huff escapes your lips, though you speak no more. 

König clears his throat again, a nasty nervous habit along with the fidgeting, as he takes a few steps forward. The finger of his right hand goes to spread through his hair, pushing the strands back like a red wave and unintentionally slicking them to his skull. The clicking of his jaw reverberates in his ears as he resets it, picking at the palate scar under his left nostril. 

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it fitfully and already his face is reddening. König looks away from you for a moment, breathing before shuffling over like a guilty child would on drowned socks. He places one leg on the floor and kneels down in front of you so he can better look into your creased face. 

“Bӓrchen,” he liked calling you that – little bear – because the comparison was enough to make him smile every time it passed his lips. It was such an endearing term that it became difficult to look past the blatant harm he could inflict on you if he wasn’t careful. While his size made him perfect for the field, home life was, well, let's just say he could easily force his way through a crowd. Not that he would, of course. But at any rate, that was what you were to him – a little bear. “I…I have to confess to you that I have been avoiding you, yes? That much has been,” a stiff breath is taken in. “Obvious.” 

Your head turns to the side, knees brushing his own as you hold your hands in your lap. Behind König the show continues to play, spreading a silver light over the living room and the continuous droning of voices.  

Not knowing whether it would be frowned upon or not, and with a steadying breath for confidence, the man loops a cold finger under your chin; bringing you back to him and finally setting your glossy eyes ahead. 

He sees you blink in surprise when you find him maskless, and a faint smile flicks over his lips when your expression goes shy. Cautious like a bird.

“It was of no fault of your own, Sweetling, I ask that you believe me. I’ll try to explain the best I can, Ja? If you’ll let me, though, I know that I don’t deserve it.”

“If you don’t like me anymore, you can just say it…Stop dragging me on, please.” His heart stops, mouth still partially open before a sharp breath is sucked in. “I don’t know if I can take that anymore.” The pang in his chest hurts immensely, like taking an arrow and peeling back skin. You look at him so hopelessly, broken beyond belief as though a piece of you was being ripped out.

“W-why do you say that?” König tries to desperately stop the wetness of your tears from falling, shaking his head and cupping both of your cheeks, rubbing at the flesh in agony. “No, no, no, Dear One. That’s not what it is at all, I beg of you to listen.” In the fever, he switches between his native tongue and English, fingers shaking though not from the drenched clothes. “Meine Schöne, oh, meine Schöne. Bitte hör auf zu weinen.“

He takes quick breaths and finds in himself that he would do anything to stop you from crying – take a bullet, run a marathon, or learn to fly. Name it, any of it. Anything to wipe away the sadness that lives in your expression as if it even belonged there in the first place

“Do not cry over me, please, I-I,” König’s tongue trips over itself, but he persists, a similar burn in the back of his nose. “I…You scare me, Bӓrchen,” that gets your attention, creased eyes and a loose jaw going to give him full observation. 

What?! Your expression screams.

Face on fire, the Austrian continues with intense eyes, dark obsidian awash with pure light that reflects stars. Overflowing with anxious tears that he refuses to let fall. 

He can’t lose you. No, no, not you. You were the best thing to happen to him in a long time. Damn him – damn his own consciousness that’s more of a betrayer than Brutus. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go… 

“...What?” Your voice wavers, nose twitching so adorably that the man is momentarily stunned. 

“I am afraid of you, my Dear. Utterly and wholly.” König sucks down a breath, now the one unable to continue the stare-off. His foot shifts. “I am afraid of what you do to me. Your smile, Gott, your smile. A-and the way you speak, how you react so honestly to my paintings like you care with all of your heart.” He laughs wetly when you smile dimly, continuing as he caresses your skin. “Everything down to your very bones is like…like…” König’s words fumble, because comparing you to something earthly was impossible to him. 

“Ever since I met you in that art store, I cannot string together words with any semblance of meaning when I am around you. Bӓrchen, you have entrapped my mind, and I am afraid.”

He watches you breathe in slowly, tears no longer falling, though the evidence still haunts him. The man’s chest lets go of a tightly wound knot, the anvil on the other side just narrowly missing his heart as the sweat on his brow evaporates.

“A-and,” König sighs, shaking his head and moving his hands to tightly hold your own in your lap. How could he explain the last part of this dilemma? He bluntly states, “you’re small.”

A brief moment of silence bleeds like a wound, long and slow, until a tiny snort echoes. Full-blown laughter emanates not even a second later, and he watches your body heave forward and slot itself with your nose in his shoulder. König’s blush stains all the way down his neck, but minuscule giggles also fall from him in retaliation to yours. His great arms wrap themselves around your waist, dragging you slightly closer as he breathes deeply. 

Your scent pulls him under like a ship at the water, riding great waves with sea beasts under the waves guiding the vessel along its course. 

“Everyone’s small compared to you.” Your mumbling in his shoulder makes his grip tighten, side-eyeing your visage as his head tilts down. “Not my fault you got every gene that made you sprout like a damn tree.”

With your lips caressing his neck, he blinks softly down at you, amused, as his breath mingles with your hair. He lets you speak, getting it all off your chest and feeling stupid for how he had been avoiding this.

“You’re afraid because you’re so big, then? That you might hurt me?” 

“Ja.” Your hands circle around his shoulders, and with a sigh that leaves the man short of breath, you shimmy back and face him, fingers playing with the base of his neck; pulling at tiny hairs. 

“Don’t you think being worried about that means something? And, c’mon,” you smile lightly to him, and he watches closely, fingers moving along your spine. “With how conscious you are of your body, it’s hard to imagine anything ever happening.”

Hands grasp his neck, and with a bobbing Adam’s apple, König yields to your pull, angling his head to you as your back straightens. Watching with awe; your silhouette bathed in silver light and eyes fatigued, though never more beautiful. You’re beaming.

“I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you, okay? So stop worrying about it, you big dope – and stop ditching me!” The Austrian’s dark eyes are fastly moved from one spot on your face to another, cataloging every bump and pore to memory. 

He’d never been this close to you before, though he’d fantasized about it. And what you were telling him…it’s like his body deflates with relief, and a genuine, boyish, smile blossoms. 

“Safe? W-with me, Bӓrchen? Oh-oh, my…” A kiss suddenly hits his forehead, and if you continued doing things like this, he was sure he’d explode. His body was vibrating with pure bashfulness; it was so odd to be complimented and doted on by someone that wasn’t his close family. For someone to reassure him of his flawed concerns. 

She feels safe with me. 

How could he tell you how happy that made him to hear aloud?

“Hey,” hands cup his jaw, and his spaced-out eyes snap back to you instantly, blinking away the rose-colored fog. You shake his head back and forth until he’s chuckling, like a kid again, and his grip catches your wrists to make you stop. Your breath fans over his blazing cheeks like a wind sent from Zephyrus himself, and the sticking clothes to his body matter little. “No more leaving me hanging, okay? I miss you, König. I want to be around you.” 

The eyes that travel down his scarred and freckled face leave him slightly self-conscious, but as if sensing this, your lips curve. Before he could utter a grunt of surprise, your kiss had connected with the scar on his forehead, as well as the palate. Just brushing the top of his lips as his large nose poked your cheek. 

“Mein Gott.” König gasps, eyes fluttering shut when you pull back and a grin slashes your face. A whisper meets the room.

“Thank you for showing me your handsome face, mein Schöner, I’ve been wondering what you looked like.” Shyly scanning his features, the redhead lets your fingers trace his flesh, shivers left in their wake, and a soft sigh. 

If he opens his eyes, he’s afraid he’d start crying. So he lets you touch his scarlet flesh, nearly the same shade as his hair, though the auburn is more deep-set. Shivering every time you lay another press of your lips to a blemish; more addictive than drugs. 

“You’re going to kill me,” König pleads, “but if this is punishment for causing you pain, I will gladly bear it.”

“Sly.” You smirk, pressing one more peck to his nose, and pulling back. He grumbles in his throat before his eyes peel open slowly; pupils blown wide and mouth parted. “Are you alive down there?”

“Barely. Perhaps I’ll need another kiss to tell, yes?” 

“You’re horrible.” Looking at his clothes, your eyes suddenly go grim. Like you’d just noticed the state of him now that he was kneeling in front of you and struck by your beauty. “And shivering.” You huff. “Why didn’t you start by saying you were soaked to the bone, König?” 

He looks to the ground, and you try to shuffle past and grab him a towel, but his arms trap you. You find yourself in a chest faster than you can blink, hands splayed over a pec that jerks as you’re lifted up. 

König hears you squeak and laughs, throwing you up into a bridal-style hold easily. Laughing chest-deep, you curl under his chin and quickly comment, “what are you doing?!” 

“Hush, Bӓrchen,” the man squishes you closer, “I’ll find a towel, don’t strain yourself.” 

You direct him to the bathroom after he sets you on your bed, hearing the pounding of rain outside as he sneaks off. 

The room smells of your shampoo, and König takes a pastel towel from the wrack after half-closing the door, slapping it to his head and violently rubbing it back and forth. Lost in his elevated thoughts and happy demeanor, the knock on the wood is almost missed. He’s just about to take off his shirt and wring it out when he blinks at the sound. 

“König – I’ve got some spare clothes, but I doubt they’ll fit you well enough.” An amused twitch of his lips later, he’s opening the door to your soft face, staring down at it. Standing shyly, your eyes crease; head tilting. “Sleepover?”

The man looks at the pile of fabric and nods kindly, a lofty feeling in his bones.

“Yes, please. They’re perfect, vielen Dank.” It isn’t long before he’s coming back out, a shirt that barely fits over his wide chest and a pair of sweats clinging to his hips. But he didn’t mind. 

They smelled like you, and thus, he smelled like you. König quickly found out that drawing wasn’t the only thing that could calm him. 

An embarrassed smile and a sheen of giddiness never leave his face.

He slides into bed with you, and you quickly latch under his arm, limbs tangling with his own as his fingers twitch over the width of the base of your shoulder blades. An easy expulsion of air leaves him as your weight settles, back curving to the make of the mattress. 

The words leave him in the delicate silence; water hitting the window and during the exploration of souls. Cheeks hot and heart hammering. 

“Sei mein?” Be mine? 

He feels your grin, nose nuzzling his flesh like it was the perfect pillow, and his heart speeds like a shooting star.

“Mein Herz war immer deins. Ja.” My heart was always yours. Yes. 

He stays awake for a long while, listening to your breathing and staring at the ceiling, running knuckles over your spine and staying silent. 

Smiling.  

[houseofpsychoticwomxn]

Linecook!Scott Miller — idea from this post by @glossykissies <3

his obsession was obvious — tired eyes steady on the sizzling pan in front of him, casual as ever even while you hounded him over a dish you’d eventually realize you forgot to put in. cursing under your breath and apologizing to the cook who seemed unbothered apart from the scolding glance in your direction.

he’d argue over it with anyone else, call them some mean name unapologetically and borderline torment them for the rest of the shift, prioritizing other orders just so their tables would stiff them, ignoring every qualm or complaint they’d run in with. it wasn’t like they could really do anything about it anyway. he’s organized, fast, calculated, all results of a well-seasoned history in the business of burns and cuts and smoke breaks. too good to find a replacement for even if he was an asshole.

in the same way he kept his station clean — focused mind evident by the knives sharp and gleaming, sleeves neat and rolled up under the contrasting apron littered with the marks of hard work — he held out a sort of reverence for you. whether it was letting fries cook for a few seconds too long to pass them off to you after an offhanded comment about ‘not having time for breakfast that morning’, or just the subtle reassurance that someone was listening to you, he was warm in his own ways.

𓆩♡𓆪

the cold air hitting your skin after standing and serving for hours felt like both much needed relief and a slap in the face. catching yourself not un-pleasantly surprised to see Scott taking a break himself, finding respite on an old milk crate, cloud of smoke drifting away from him as he looked over.

“bad day?”

“bad week.” you corrected, hesitating for a second before shaking your head when he held out his hand, cigarette held loosely between his middle and pointer. a gesture he wouldn’t think to share with anyone else, the same one you’d declined times before.

you smoothed yourself down the wall behind you, sitting on the cold concrete and listening to the slow, quiet breaths of the man across from you. it was easy to talk to him about shitty customers, easy to get pissed off at him over something you’d forget all about at the end of the night, easy to watch him cleaning up from the spot he reserved for you on the counter, and even easier to sit with him and say nothing at all.

you sighed when you checked your phone, the time telling you your break was just about over. you let your head fall back and watched as Scott stepped on the remnants of his peace and walked over to you, hand outstretched for you once again.

“hungry?”

𓆩♡𓆪

[apocalypseornaw]

Stretch it Out

Dean Winchester x Reader

When you need help stretching it takes an interesting turn

Warnings: Cursing, NSFW things

One of the many empty rooms in the bunker had been turned into an exercise area of sorts. It'd started off as Sam's brain child for mornings he couldn't go for a run, he'd found a cheap enough treadmill and tossed it in the room. Next came the weight bench, the punching bags and eventually the mats that were used for a mixture from sparring to yoga. It had gotten turned into a pretty decent home gym.

You were alone in the room, Dean had gone on a store run and Sam was in the shower. After the last hunt you'd gotten slammed around pretty good, Cas had healed what he could but turns out even angel mojo couldn't help tight hips. You were trying your best to get them to pop because that was what you desperately needed.

You'd gotten into boxing with Donna and knew what stretches would help, the problem was you needed assistance with it and didn't want to have to drive to Sioux Falls just to get it. You could ask Sam for help but given the position the stretches would put you in, you felt weird asking your best friend to do so and the thought of asking Dean embarrassed you bad enough you'd rather go a few rounds with a rugaru then attempt it.

You finally gave up about the time you heard Dean's voice echo down the hall "Honey I'm home" you laughed as you slipped your feet into the slides you wore around the bunker and headed for the kitchen where he was unloading groceries "I'm assuming that honey I'm home was for me or else things are really weird between you and Sam"

He stopped mid putting milk in the fridge "Sweetheart" the tone of his voice made you crack up "I'm kidding Dean. I'm kidding" he put the milk in the fridge then turned to face you, eyeing your clothes "What's with the active wear?" You looked down at yourself because you were just wearing high-waisted leggings and an old t-shirt you'd cropped off a bit because it'd been way too long to use any of the weights or punching bag while wearing.

"I was stretching out. My hips still aren't feeling quite up to par" he nodded slowly "Did you get them popped or whatever you said they needed?" You shook your head "I can't get into the positions I need to by myself" "Sam couldn't help?" He asked as you grabbed a bag and started putting its contents away.

You shook your head but didn't further elaborate. The two of you had everything put away within a few minutes. You grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and started to walk out the kitchen when Dean stopped you "Hey, let me throw on some sweats and I'll help you stretch"

You knew your eyes widened at that because he chuckled "Oh don't think I can help with stuff like that? I'm only good for the punchy stuff?" You shook your head "No Dean it's not that.." he cut you off "Good. Meet me in the gym in five" "Ok" you finally replied knowing arguing was no use.

---------

About the time Dean walked out the kitchen Sam walked in with his hair still wet from the shower "I should throw this damn water at you for not being five minutes faster" Sam was not ignorant to your feelings for his older brother but had guarded your secret for a while. He grinned slightly "And why is that?"

You groaned "Dean's gonna help me stretch out my hips" in that moment Sam very much looked like he may just chew his bottom lip off in an attempt to not laugh in your face at your dismay. "Oh go ahead!" You finally said and he nearly doubled over "Does he know the positioning of those stretches?" You shook your head and that only made him laugh harder.

He finally regained his composure enough to check his watch "I'm gonna go into town to the farmers market. I'll get some of those apples you like and I'll be gone for a couple hours" "Why?" You questioned but he just patted your shoulder on the way by.

"SAMUEL?" You hollered behind him but only heard his laughter in return. Dean walked up behind you and nearly made you scream when he said "What was that about?" You looked over your shoulder at him and smiled slightly "He's going to the farmers market and refused to get me apples" "You know he will" he replied then tapped your hip "C'mon"

You stood across from Dean nervously chewing on your bottom lip. You both had warmed up enough already so you had no excuse but christ you were freaking out internally. "Ok sweetheart, where do we start?" He asked with a smile that caused your heart to jump "Um Ok. I'm gonna lay down on the mat and I need you to stand over me and I'll bend one knee then fold it over the hip on my opposite side I just need you to apply enough counter pressure"

He raised one eyebrow but nodded nonetheless "Well get into position and I'll do my job" you laid down flat on your back and swallowed hard looking up at him before bending your knee on the left side and tucking it over your right hip. He smirked slightly then leaned over "Just apply pressure until i say stop. I can handle it" he nodded "Oh I know"

---------

You tried that stretch on both hips hoping it would work because it was the position that gave the most room between you and Dean even if just from that position alone you were having to stare at the roof to not be staring into those green eyes that made you forget any and all thoughts. You finally rolled up into a seated position, Dean was sitting across from you on his knees "What now?"

You could feel your cheeks threaten to warm as you damn near stuttered "H-How much do you want to help me?" He watched you for a moment "I want to make sure you're not hurting. Now what do I need to do?" You nodded slowly "Im gonna lay back, I need you to kneel between my legs and put one of my legs on your shoulder then just push it down towards my shoulder applying even pressure until either it loosens up or I say stop"

He motioned towards the mat "Let's do it" good lord could he have picked a worse way to say it? You laid down and when he moved closer you felt your face begin to warm so you bit down on the inside of your cheek as a distraction In hopes it would get get your mind off the position at hand.

However nothing on earth could have distracted from from him gripping your hips firmly to pull you down the mat closer to him, spreading your legs slightly. A small gasp escaped you when your hips bumped into his then he turned just enough to gently grab your left leg and lift it onto his shoulder "Like this sweetheart?"

You knew your voice wouldn't work at the moment so you just nodded.

---------

There was a mantra going through Dean's head which consisted of three words....don't get hard. Damn why hadn't he just stayed in his jeans? That would've offered a thicker layer between your bodies but he hadn't realized how close the stretching required you to be besides the denim probably would've been uncomfortable to you considering you were just wearing thin leggings.

The first stretch hadn't been that bad but he noticed how you wouldn't meet his eyes while he was standing over you. Sam's words from a few days before when he'd been certain you were flirting with the bartender at some backwoods dive the three of you had stopped in ran through his head "Believe me Dean, she could give a damn less about that guy"

Then when you stuttered asking him to do this current position? Maybe he did have a chance. He had to stop a smirk from slipping onto his face when you gasped lightly from him pulling you closer and pulling your leg up on his shoulder. Not like he hadn't imagined you like this a thousand times before....of course then you weren't dressed or in the gym or just stretching.

When you finally looked up to meet his eyes he smiled "like this sweetheart?" And noticed just how wide your eyes were when you nodded.

----------

Your knee was nearly touching your shoulder when you felt the release in your hip and a moan that completely mortified you escaped your lips at the feeling. Dean froze dead in his tracks, your leg still on his shoulder and cut his eyes at you with one eyebrow raised "What was that?"

You covered your face with your hands "I am so sorry Dean. That just felt so damn good" he gently lowered your left leg and you expected him to walk out the room due to the awkwardness but instead he moved to the right side and lifted your leg onto his shoulder "Look at me and I'll see if i can get you to moan again from this side" he teased.

You slowly lowered your hands and he winked at you "Attagirl. We're both adults here no shame in something feeling good besides maybe it boosts my ego knowing you moaned like that and I was technically the cause of it...I mean I've heard some of your excuses for dates in the past..."

"Shut up Dean!" You laughed but he started to push your leg towards your shoulder and damn him he'd been paying attention to the last leg and knew just what angle to use because you quickly felt the release in that side and the fucking moan you let slip out was borderline pornagraphic.

----------

He spoke your name gently and you looked up at him. He was watching you carefully "You good?" You smiled "I'm great" you shifted your hips as much as you could considering one of them was still on his shoulder but froze when you felt something against your inner thigh "Um Dean?"

"Huh?" He asked then must have realized his body had reacted. "Oh fuck darling. I am so damn sorry" he put your leg down quickly and went to stand up but you grabbed his hand "Wait" he wouldn't meet your eyes "I'm sorry sweetheart. It's just you're a beautiful woman, the position we were in...." he groaned lightly before adding "and the noises you were making under me"

"Dean" you tried again and when he finally met your eyes you reached for his shoulders and pulled him into a kiss.

The kiss took Dean off guard. He'd expected you to be pissed at him, hell possibly swing but the shock quickly wore off as he shifted around to push your back down against the mat. You hooked one of your legs around his waist pulling him down with you. He groaned into the kiss when you rolled your hips up to meet his.

He broke away from the kiss to look at you. You were laying under him, eyes wide and pupils blown. Your chest was heaving just slightly and a smile was playing at your lips "Sweetheart what are we doing here?" You raised an eyebrow and glanced down at where your bodies were pressed against each other, thin layers of clothing the only thing separating you "I thought it was kind of clear Dean"

---------

He laughed lightly then leaned down again catching your lips with his once more. He felt your hands slip under his shirt, an unspoken request for more access to him. He pulled back just enough to slip the shirt over his head and throw it somewhere behind him. He smiled when he saw your hands go towards the hem of your shirt and covered them with his own. He glanced up at you for permission and you nodded so he slipped the shirt over your head and tossed it leaving you in just your leggings and sports bra.

"Come here" you whispered pulling him back down to you. He moved from your lips down to your neck biting and sucking the skin, enjoying what sounds he could pull from you. When he kissed down your chest he felt your breathing speed up as he nipped at your breast through the cloth still covering it. "Fuck Dean" you moaned and he could've came then and there from hearing his name come out of you like that. "Let me enjoy this" he teased before pulling the bra off of you.

--------

The moment your chest was completely bared to him Dean leaned down flicking one of your nipples into his mouth with his tongue while his hand worked the other. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, the pleasure you were feeling when he'd barely touched you was dizzying.

He moved from your chest, kissing down your stomach and stopping just shy of the top of your leggings. He glanced up at you through his long lashes and you felt a rush of heat go straight to your core "Can I?" You nodded, lifting your hips to help him get the leggings off.

"Damn baby you're already soaked" he cooed slipping one finger inside of you causing a light gasp to slip free of your lips. He smiled wickedly then added another finger, basking in the way you moaned his name "I wanna see what you look like when you come" he spoke curling his fingers inside of you until he found that spot that made your eyes roll back. When your back arched up off the mat he chuckled "There it is"

He crashed his lips against yours in a rough kiss while he worked you over that edge, feeling you tighten around his fingers. You could feel the tension building in your lower stomach and barely got out the words "Dean I'm gonna.." before it snapped pushing you over that edge and causing your vision to go soft around the edges.

"Soo damn sexy" he whispered moving back down your body. You'd barely had any time to recover before his head was moving between your legs, you felt the first tentative lick and moaned his name loudly which spurred his actions one.

The way his mouth felt on your body had every damn nerve ending on fire. You could feel that tension building again already. You'd never come this close together but the moment his lips locked around your clit sucking roughly you were pushed over that edge yet again. He stayed working you over until you pushed at his shoulders weakly "Too much. Too much"

-----------

He rocked back on his heels, wiping a thumb across his lower lip before sucking on it "Fuck you taste as good as you look" you smiled lazily "Normally I'd love to return the favor and I promise to next time but please will you take off your pants and fuck me?"

"Next time huh?" He asked as he pushed his pants down his hips along with his boxers then kicked them off. You'd always figured Dean was well endowed. Awkward moments with hotel showers had happened but damn he was big and thick. You licked your lips and he grinned running a hand across his cock "Like what ya see sweetheart?"

You rolled your eyes "Would like it better if it was inside me" He smirked "Well who am I to keep a lady waiting" he gripped your hips, snatching you closer to him much the way he had earlier. You could feel the head of his cock teasing your opening and could feel yourself clenching around air in anticipation "Are you sure?" He asked and you nearly whined in frustration "Please?"

He nodded as he pushed into you causing a moan to be pulled from you both once he was fully sheathed he held still to let you adjust to him. He caught your lips in a passionate kiss, tongue flicking against yours allowing you to taste yourself on him. Once the pain of the stretch faded to pressure you moved your hips against his to let him know he could move.

He started to roll his hips into yours causing your back to arch up off the mat with every movement "Fuck Dean, you feel so fucking good" you praised and that seemed to spur his movements. He changed his angle just slightly and when the head of his cock rubbed across that certain spot you could vaguely register your nails digging into his shoulders "Right there baby, please don't stop"

"Wasn't planning on it" he teased. It felt amazing but you knew you both needed a little more "You can fuck me harder Dean. I won't break" you moaned and he leaned his forehead over in the crook of your neck as his thrusts got somehow even deeper and harder. You could feel that tension building again and knew he could feel you clenching harder around him "Go ahead sweetheart. Come for me" He spoke into your skin, one hand slipping between you to rub tight circles onto your clit. You came for the third time with a scream of his name on your lips.

Once you came down from the high slightly you could feel his thrusts begin to falter. You turned your attention to him fully, kissing across his jaw and down his neck as you said "Let me feel you come Dean, please. Fill me up baby" his jaw clenched tightly at your words as his thrusts sped up chasing his own release.

He buried himself inside you with one final thrust and the feeling of him coming inside of you managed to push you over that edge for the fourth time.

He collapsed on top of you, supporting most of his body weight on your lower half so you could breath. "God damn sweetheart. I'm so fucking glad Sam didn't help you stretch" You popped his shoulder "Don't be an ass Dean"

After a moment of you both simply catching your breath he leaned up to be able to look at your face "On a serious note I don't want this to be a one time thing and not just this...I um want us to try to this I mean if you want" you laughed lightly causing him to groan considering he was still inside of you "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend after nearly fucking me stupid in the bunkers home gym?"

He nodded "Yeah?" You pulled him into a kiss before saying "On the condition that you help me make it to the shower before Sam gets back because my legs have no feeling in them after coming that much" you could see the moment the smug smirk began to pull at his face "Oh really?" You rolled your eyes and started to say something back but he chose then to pull out of you which caused another gasp to leave you.

"I can manage to help my girl shower" he added with a wink.

"How's your hips feel?" Dean asked after you both had showered and you were laying in his bed with his arms around you. You laughed "They feel absolutely amazing"

He leaned down to kiss you but right before your lips touched you heard Sam holler "IN THE GYM? REALLY. YOU TWO ARE ANIMALS!"

Dean smirked at you "Any complaints?" "None at all" you replied pulling him into you for the kiss.