#please enjoy my not so great phone pics

[exdeputysonso]

Brad and Fiona Panel at For the Love of Horror 2023

[roosterforme]

Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time. 

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh. 

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret. 

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him. 

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated. 

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up. 

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message. 

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way. 

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface. 

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number. 

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip. 

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice. 

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later. 

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush. 

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be. 

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten. 

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin. 

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning. 

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone. 

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her. 

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him. 

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open. 

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself. 

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on. 

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

--------------------------

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face. 

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache. 

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar. 

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit. 

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.  

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest. 

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck. 

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

-------------------------

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[baronessvonglitter]

Daddy Can Fix It

handyman!Joel Miller x fem!plus size!Reader

Word count: 5.4K

Summary: All the housewives in your neighborhood rave about the local handyman. And with very good reason.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is plus-size, wears dress and lingerie, has hair and body hair, and manicure. Reader's age not mentioned so there is only as much or as little of an age gap as you'd like. TW - fat shaming, food shaming, infidelity (by reader, and it's technically warranted) Pet names (daddy for Joel; sugar, darlin', baby, sweetheart for reader). Housewife/trad-wife vibes. Totally a bored housewife fantasy. Mention of female masturbation. Breast/nipple play, oral (f & m receiving). Fingering. Body worship. Pussy pronouns. Unprotected piv (Joel is snipped, but still.. this is fiction). Light spanking. Rough sex. Creampie. Joel's kind of a big ol' slut for the lonely housewives but is also really useful around the house, so you're definitely getting a good deal 🛠️

Author's note: it's been a hot minute since I've written a one-shot for Joel but it was impossible to resist. It all started because of this pic:

so yeah, Pinterest strikes again. How could I not write a Joel fic based on this? I hope y'all enjoy 💖

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"He can come clean my pipes anytime."

Raucous laughter erupts from the group of ladies huddled near the cupcakes at the latest book club meeting. You listen from the other side of the room where one of the older members is asking you to help her with her Kindle. "I never know how to keep up with all this fancy technology," Marion huffs, adjusting her bifocals.

You're trying to be patient with her, but the conversation across the room is far more intriguing. "It just needs to be charged. Your battery is low," you say three times before Marion can even hear you.

When you've managed to extricate yourself from her, you go up to the ladies and, with a friendly smile, join in. "I couldn't help overhearing."

Some of the women exchange glances, as if deciding to let you in on their convo or not. "Becky's just showing us that she got her kitchen cabinets redone," someone finally pipes up.

"That's not all she got," another starts to crack up.

You look at Becky's phone screen. The before and after shots of her cabinets are nothing short of miraculous. "That's great, Becky! I know you've been asking Gerald for a renovation for awhile," you tell her, hoping she'll be pleased you remember the plight she droned on about for weeks.

"It is great," she says, eyeing you with something like suspicion. "I have a very good handyman."

"He does everything," a nicer girl, Isabelle, chimes in.

"Boy does he," another mutters, hiding her smirk behind her cup of lemonade while the others giggle behind their hands.

Amirah adds, "He varnished my dining room table, power washed my driveway, helped organize my garage," she counts on her fingers. "He's good for little things around the house, and his prices are decent."

"It's like he's just giving it away," Becky says with a smirk and this gets the group laughing again.

"Maybe you can give me his information later," you say politely. "I have a laundry list of things that I need help with now that Wesley's working so much overtime."

The women eye one another, and it's Amirah, the leader of the group, who gives the definite nod. "Of course, sweetie. After the meeting."

"Great!" Smiling, you try to make your way through the group, saliva pooling in your mouth at the tower of red velvet cupcakes on the table spread. You reach for a couple more.

"You've already had three," Becky reminds you, casting a not-so-subtle glance at your body. Her voice sweet as honey but her words carry poison. You know you're not as thin or as glamorous as the other women in this room. You dress the same as them, wear your hair perfectly coiffed and your nails are always manicured, but just because you're not a size zero they deem you unworthy to truly be one of them.

You hold your head high with what little courage you have in the face of Becky's bitchiness, your sinful little cupcake in your hand. "I actually had three. And right now I'm about to make it five," you say sweetly, licking a swipe of cream cheese icing before putting two cupcakes on a china plate and going back to your seat.

That night, Wesley doesn't ask about your book club. He doesn't ask how your day was. He doesn't do much except pour himself a drink when he gets home and sit in front of the TV to watch the news.

You're dressed for bed, a modest robe over a red silk babydoll chemise, a purchase you'd made on a whim in the hopes that you could spice up your sex life with him which, truth be told, has never been more than lukewarm from the start.

"Do you think we should.. go to bed?" you suggest, a naughty tone to your whisper.

"It's early," he grunts, barely giving you a glance.

"I just thought we could spend some time together.." you brush your hand across his knee but he impatiently swipes it away.

"Please, darling, it's a weeknight," he looks at you as if you'd just suggested a threesome with him and the milk man. As he leaves the room he looks back at you, but the hope that rises in your chest is soon shattered when he shakes his head upon seeing your lingerie. "Red is for streetwalkers," he tells you before he goes into his study.

Daddy Can Fix It

You run your finger over the business card Amirah gave you, with all the handy man's information. The card shows his white company van with the logo emblazoned on the side: Joel Miller, Handyman At Your Service so it says in black lettering. There's a phone number and a website as well.

You dial the number, expecting to hear a secretary's voice, but you're greeted with a rich, baritone "Good mornin', thanks for callin' Daddy, what can I fix for ya today?"

Jesus, the voice alone is enough to get you flustered. And Daddy? You weren't expecting that. "Um, hi, I got your number through a friend and I'd like to see if you're available to come mow the lawn today." You peek out your curtains, seeing how the grass has grown taller than you'd like since the last time Wesley has cared enough to cut it.

"You got a lawn mower, sugar?"

"Yes, I do, um.. daddy.."

You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. "You can call me Joel."

"Joel. Yes, I do. Is there anything else you'll need?" New to the housewife lifestyle, you're still unsure of how to make such appointments. Before you met and married Wesley, you just mowed the lawn yourself, but your husband refuses to hear of his good and proper wife performing a menial act.

"Got any bushes that need trimmin'?"

You aren't sure why that particular sentence makes you feel the blood rush to your face. "I typically keep up with it on my own, when I'm tending to my garden."

Joel gives a small chuckle and it warms your insides. "That ain't no problem. Today around eleven good for ya?"

"Eleven sounds perfect."

"Pricing'll be about fifty, but we can come to an agreement once the job is done."

"Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you." You give him your name and address, hanging up with a sense of accomplishment.

His van appears in your driveway just a minute before eleven. You're impressed with his timeliness. What you don't expect is the gorgeous stranger on your doorstep.

Joel Miller is tall, broad-shouldered, skin bronze from working out in the sun, and his dark brown hair is greying handsomely. If you had to guess his age you'd say fifties. He's in a grey tee shirt and work jeans. What stand out to you the most are his eyes: almost black in color, appraising you as you wait in the doorway, prim and proper housewife, lips parted, eyes wide.

He asks for you by name and you nod, chuckling slightly.

"If you can show me where the lawn mower is I'd be happy to get started," he offers, and the voice you recognize from the phone makes you melt.

You lead him outside to the garage and he takes out the mower, filling it up with some gasoline first. "Is there anything else you need?" you ask politely.

"No ma'am," he looks over his shoulder at you as he pushes the machine to the front yard. "Get inside and get outta this sun. I'll handle it from here," he smiles and it makes you want to giggle like a schoolgirl.

From inside you watch him through the window, deftly maneuvering the lawn mower over, trimming the grass to a neat, short length. It's not yet the hottest hour of the day, but you see him sweating, and when he stops a moment to remove his shirt, you suddenly feel your pulse in the deepest part of your cunt. You wonder what it would be like to lick up every drop of sweat off his chest.

Like a slow motion scene from a movie, you watch the motion of his arms, the rippling of his back as he guides the machine over the lawn. Biting your lip you take in the sight of him, the determination on his face redirecting your thoughts to how he would look above you: hot, sweaty, hard, plunging into your drenched pussy.

How long has it been since you've had a man? Wesley prefers his Saturday nights like clockwork. But you want more. Stupidly thinking marriage was the best way to be treated right and fucked properly, you realized it was not the title but the man, and the particular man you chose was lacking in all area which mattered.

You aren't even sure you love him anymore.

But right now, watching Joel is a treat, and fantasizing about him is a little secret you'll harbor for later in the day when you'll inevitably find yourself using the showerhead attachment.

He finishes the front and back yards, and through the blinds you peep him putting his shirt back on, running a hand through his wavy curls before putting the mower away and coming to your door.

You answer it before he knocks. "Thank you!" is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. "Please come in and we can settle payment."

He cleans the bottoms of his boots on the welcome mat before stepping inside your home and following you to the kitchen. "You have a very nice home, ma'am."

"You're too kind," you're modest about his compliment, but it's thrilling to have someone say something nice about the hard work you put into keeping house. "Would you care for some iced tea? I've just made it fresh."

"I won't say no to that," he chuckles lightly, and you're happy to fill a glass with some of the fresh-brewed tea over ice.

Joel leans back against the sink, pouty pink lips pressed to the glass as he tips it back, opening just enough to take a sweet sip. You watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows, and you wish you could lick a stripe up along his the length of his delicious-looking neck to collect all the sweat that's beaded there.

"Is there anythin' else you need help with today?" he asks, his question carrying a hint of something more.

You blank for a moment, getting lost in the depth of his obsidian eyes, still caught up in your little fantasy. "No.. no, I don't think so." Taking a look around your eyes dart to every corner, taking mental stock of the upstairs rooms as well. "No," you finalize with a smile.

"If you're sure.." he says in that same low tone.

You give him fifty dollars and chat a little while he finishes his drink.

"If there's nothin' else I'll get goin'. Feel free to call me again if you need somethin' done, or looked at. Ain't nothin' I can't fix," he winks at you on your doorstep and you feel a waterfall in your panties.

Isabelle calls later in the day. "So? You had Joel over today, right? How'd it go?"

Dinner is in the oven and there's about an hour before your husband gets home. Phone on speaker, you start peeling potatoes. "It was fine. He did a great job. I'm sure I'll use him again."

Over the line you hear Isabelle sigh. "Isn't his dick beautiful? I swear, just thinking about it gets me so wet!"

You nearly slice a finger off, shocked by her words. Even though you're alone in the house, you pick up the phone and take it off speaker. "What are you talking about?"

"I think it's at least eight inches, and the way it curves at the end," Isabelle sounds like she's moaning.

"Okay, I'm lost. I hired the handyman that you and the others referred. That's who came over today."

"Exactly, dear! Did he fuck you? You don't have to give details of course."

Your brain is put on pause as only silence fills your throat.

"Oh dear," Isabelle continues. "You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

She sighs, possibly settling herself on her chaise longue out by her pool she's so proud of. "Joel Miller is a handyman, yes. But we also pay him a little extra for other services."

"Oh." You sink onto the living room settee, the closest thing to you.

"Mm-hmm. Mind you, it's not an all-the-time thing. But we've all had him. It's just something fun. You get some help around the house with your honey-do list, and then a good fucking after. Or whatever pleases you."

"And you.. you've.. slept with him?"

"I wouldn't call it sleeping, honey, but yeah I've been with him. It's all for fun. Nobody really takes it seriously."

"And everyone else at the book club?"

"Pretty much. Do you really think any of our husbands could compare to that god of a man Joel Miller?"

No, no you doubt any man could hold up to the stud who'd just helped you with the lawn.

He's on your mind constantly, but as tightly as Wesley keeps his wallet to himself, you can't validate having Joel's help every day. You make the choice to wait until the following week.

And what a long wait it is. Jealously you wonder whose house he's going to. Jackie down the street? Bitchy Becky with her face like a rat, no tits and no ass?

You consider calling Isabelle to beg for the details (which she'll probably give you without a fuss anyway). But a sordid part of you wants to find out for yourself. You already know he's well-endowed. He's at least twice as big as Wesley, who wouldn't know what to do with a big cock if he was blessed with one overnight.

A week to the day since he made his last visit, Joel comes back to replace the batteries in your smoke alarms. It's a job you've done yourself, perching on a stepladder, but it'll be more fun to have Daddy fix it.

The phone call to schedule him was practically foreplay. That smooth-as-chocolate voice had your panties drenched. When he's finally here, inside your home, inside your needy little cunt.

Your eyes rove over his form as he uses your stepladder, only needing the first rung. It doesn't stop you from staying right there with him, holding it steady on the other side. You hear his little grunts as he gets to work, watch his thick, strong fingers handle the batteries with a delicacy you can imagine he uses in other things.

Licking your lips, you realize you're face-to-face with the faded blue denim crotch of his jeans, those Levis hugging him tight in all the right places.

"I'm 'bout done here," he says, putting the smoke detector back in its place. "Anythin' else you need help with, lil' darlin'?"

Your hand presses to the bulge in his jeans, and you're delighted when you feel him twitch in response. "As a matter of fact, I do need your help with something else.."

"That right?" he murmurs, pressing your hand against him, letting you feel him grow hard under his palm. "Been waitin' to see if you'd ask.."

He steps down, keeps his dark eyes on you. "Pretty lil' thing like yourself don't get enough attention, huh?" he whispers, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

Softly you sigh, unashamed at how needy you've been for a simple touch. "No.. but I'd like you to help with that."

"That's what I'm here for, darlin'," he smiles, his thumb tracing your soft plump lips. "What do you want me to do, baby?"

"Everything," you answer quickly. "I'm not.. really sure what the usual is.."

His smile is kind as his hand traces down your neck, leaving goosebumps to rise on your skin. "You want me to fuck ya, give ya somethin' nobody else is doin'.. that it?" He places your hand back on his bulge and you respond by rubbing him, your own cunt pulsing around nothing in excited expectation.

"Yes.. I need to get fucked," you agree emphatically, pulling him into your bedroom.

Now he's here, in your room, and you think you're dreaming. He's letting you take the lead, completely at your service. All the women in your book club were probably more open with their desires, knowing immediately what they wanted and how to get it. All the fantasies about Joel you've created and harbored in the deepest part of your heart are now as impalpable as gossamer.

"You tell me what you want, honey," he drawls in that molasses-rich voice of his. His hands gently trace your waist, smoothing down your dress as he moves towards your curvaceous hips. "God damn, I bet you look fuckin' gorgeous outta this dress. Wanna show me?"

Biting your lip, you nod, tugging off your apron and dropping it to the floor. Not gonna be a damn housewife while he's with me..

A tiny smirk on your face, you gently push Joel back onto your bed, and he rights himself with an equally mischievous smile as he watches you. He palms his hard cock through his jeans as you do a little striptease, tantalizing him as you slip your prim flower-print dress off your shoulders.

"There we go, baby," he growls as the dress falls down to your hips, your scarlet satin bra revealed, your breasts practically spilling over the cups, making Joel's mouth water. You turn around for his help in unzipping the bottom part of your dress, finally feeling free as it falls away, pooling at your feet.

Joel lets out a wolf whistle as he takes in the sight of you in your ruby undergarments, the same you'd tried to seduce your husband in. Now they're finally being put to good use. "Red's your color, gorgeous," he mutters, his hands on your hips, mapping out your generous curves and the soft rolls of your belly.

You've almost forgotten what it was like, this power to entrance a man and make him see you as the only woman in the world. Marriage to an uncaring and unfeeling idiot had left you cut off from your sexuality. Now you're reclaiming it.

Joel's hands travel back up to your waist, fingers deftly unclasping your bra. He unwraps you like you're the goddamn Christmas gift he's been begging for for months. His tongue wets his lips as your plump breasts are revealed. With one hand on your lower back, the other palms your tit with a rough hand. Your nipple rises to his touch and he dips down to swirl his tongue around it, gently coaxing it further with his teeth. Your head falls back as the sensation zings straight to your cunt. "Fuck, Joel.."

He smiles against the softness of your skin. "Sensitive here, huh? Bet these ain't been properly played with in awhile. Gonna change that right now." And with that he gives another hard suck, his dick already leaking when he hears your needy moan. He treats the other breast with the same attention. You take one of his hands and lead it to the drenched front side of your panties, but he stops you.

"Not yet, baby. Want you to see yourself before I fuckin' ruin ya."

You lay on your side on the bed as you watch Joel undress. It's a sight you won't soon forget: skin tan from working outdoors, with a smattering of chest hair that's also showing some grey, chiseled arms, and a happy trail that leads from his navel to the front of his boxers, which are tented. He wears a little smirk as he pulls them off and your reaction is priceless.

Joel is fucking hung.

You've taken big cocks before, but his is formed of pure fantasy, like a dildo from your favorite sex shop. Isabelle wasn't exaggerating about his size. And his cock is so beautiful you want to cry. Watching as he gives it a couple strokes, all eight thick uncut inches, the rosy pink tip glistens with precum, the veins and ridges prominent. Even the curve Isabelle mentioned is sexy, bound to hit all the right places inside you. His balls, rounded and heavy, move with his motions.

Thank God I did my yoga this week.

You beckon him to you, pulling the boxers away completely and dipping your head to taste him. Your tongue laves across the salty slit of his tip, and you relish the hitch of his breath. He's not here for you to please him, but it gets you wet wrapping your lips around his cock, suctioning your mouth and stroking upward from his base. When you start to massage his balls he stops you. "Don't wanna shoot too soon, baby," he says breathlessly.

He pulls you up off the bed and into a kiss, his hands playing along the edges of your panties as his tongue tastes yours. His cock, still wet from your mouth, nudges against your soft belly. "You deserve to feel good," he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his tongue tracing the outline. At last he pulls your panties down, a rumble in his throat when he sees the sweet glaze between your thighs, glistening in your triangle of hair.

"Sit on my lap, baby. With your back to me," he orders in a soft growl.

His flesh is warm beneath yours, and god it feels good just to be touched again, to feel desired by someone. You haven't known it in so long. He sits back against the headboard, moving the pillows on either side. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist as he leaves soft, feathery kisses across your shoulder.

"So soft," he murmurs. "C'mon, baby, look at yourself," he nods to the mirror in front of you.

When you catch your reflection you're exhilarated at the sight: you, naked, with Joel behind you, kissing your neck, fondling your tits, thumb brushing over them and lightly pinching them to hardened peaks. "Spread your legs for me, baby," he whispers, getting started by brushing his hand from your knee to your petal-soft inner thigh.

It's lascivious, watching all this unfurl before you in the mirror. You're spread open, on full display. Your pussy is gushing over with need, and you trace your folds with your fingers.

Behind you, Joel's cock twitches, and he rubs himself lightly against your back. "Lemme do that.." he whispers, gently pulling your hand away, bringing your fingers to his mouth and sucking your juice off them. "So sweet," he murmurs, and your belly is hot with lust.

His touch is soft and careful at first, exploring you and figuring out what you like, what you need. It feels like he's memorizing every inch of you. His thick fingers glide over your lips, circling, teasing you so you'll beg him for more.

"Joel," you whine, lifting yourself to him, trying to get his hand to position itself where you need it most. But he evades you, a dark chuckle emanating from deep in his throat. "You're payin' me to do a job and I wanna do it right. Not fair to rush me."

Your eyes close in frustration. "Joel, please.."

"Nuh-uh. Daddy."

"Fuck," you whimper. "Please, daddy."

"That's more like it." His touch finds your clit, throbbing and needy, and you nearly see stars at the feeling. He presses once again before sliding two fingers into your warm, welcoming cunt. "Christ, she's really suckin' me in there," he grunts, shifting behind you as his dick becomes nearly impossible to ignore.

"Yes," you moan at the sweet intrusion, the easy glide of his fingers in your drenched pussy. "Just like that."

"So fuckin' tight," he says through gritted teeth. And Jesus, his fingers are thick, the calloused thumb swiping over your clit, making you twitch and your hips arch up for more. "She's pulsin' around me," he mutters, his rich voice in your ear, lips brushing against your lobe. His fingers glide in, stretching you as you coat him.

"Ah, she's gettin' all creamy for me," he coos as he pulls them out a moment, licking off one finger and giving the other to you. You taste yourself, salty and sweet, humming in appreciation as you release his digit from your mouth with a pop.

He returns to his work, his hand pistoning against your folds, the squishy sounds of your soaked cunt beautifully obscene to your ears. Your voice trembles as you cry out, a sweet vibrato that resounds throughout the room as Joel's fingers curl in on your g-spot. He adds a bit more pressure to your clit as he tries to get you there. Moaning, he nuzzles his face into your neck.

It feels like you break open under his touch, hips arching up, swallowing his delving fingers deeper inside you as you spasm uncontrollably around him, a string of curses falling from your lips.

You barely have time to recover before he's on you again, moving in front of you as you lay against the pillows, like Venus in a Titian painting. His hands lift your thighs, softly kneading their thickness as he plants kisses on either side, trailing up to your cunt, your scent all around him.

"My husband never goes down on me," you whisper, heart racing as quick as a hummingbird's wings.

"Ain't he a waste of fuckin' space," Joel grunts, a wicked gleam in his eye as he dives in, flattening his tongue to lick a stripe upwards to your needy, throbbing clit. Your hands grab at his hair, pushing him forward as his groan is muffled by your sweet, saturated pussy.

"God.. damn!" you gasp at the delicious feeling of his tongue on you, lapping up every drop, tracing your lips and tickling your clit. He's relentless in his pursuit of making you come, switching up the tempo, adding a finger and then another, praising you when you cry out again. "Squeezin' so hard on me.. she's just about ready, ain't she?" Before he finally suctions his lips around your puffy clit and sucks, humming around it.

It's as if your soul leaves your body for a precious few moments, muttering monosyllables in sweet relief. You've never come so hard before, ever. And when you look up at Joel you wish you could worship him.

"Like the sweetest tea I ever drank," he says, licking his lips.

"Fuck me, Joel," you whine, still not fully come down from your climax.

"C'mere," he growls, putting you on all fours so you're facing the mirror again. You look at your reflection: hair mussed, eyes shining bright, skin glowing from your orgasm. Joel lines himself up behind you, smiling as you watch yourself. "Got every right to look at yourself, darlin'.. someone as fuckin' hot as you, with these hips, this ass?" He grabs one cheek and gives it a slap. You gasp, jolting forward, then wiggle your ass at him, wanting more.

"You a naughty lil' thing," Joel smirks, teasing your folds with his tip. "Wanna get this pretty lil' pussy ruined?"

"Yes, daddy," you moan, pushing back on him.

"Fuck me, I like the way you say that." He bites his lip as he continues teasing you. "Once I fuck you, you'll never let that limp dick husband of yours touch you ever again, I promise you that."

Your reply is cut off when you feel him nudge inside, your walls breached by his thick cock. "Oh god... yes!" you exclaim, clutching the bedsheets. "Fuck.. your cock is so huge.." You can feel the tip just kissing your cervix.

"Yeah, you like it? Like gettin' fucked by this big cock? Gettin' stretched out? Gonna leave a big ol' gapin' hole for your husband to come home to."

He bottoms out, grabbing your ass cheeks with both big hands, watching the smoothness of your skin as your cunt clenches onto him. "God damn what a pretty sight.. you oughta see this. Pussy's barely fittin' me as it is. Only tighter thing would be your little ass.." and he pulls out all the way to slam back in, glorying in the way you scream his name.

"There she goes, gotta get 'er used to me," he grunts, eyes on your swollen pussy lips wrapping his cock in a vise with each steady thrust. "Jesus, sweetheart. So tight I gotta try not to blow my load."

The sound of his name on your lips, the way your body reacts to him, is like gasoline on an already raging fire. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "Say my name, baby. I wanna hear it." He quickens the pace, pressing deeper inside you.

"Daddy! Daddy!" you shout in time with each delicious snap of his hips. "My god, you're so fucking deep.." you moan.

"That's it, take all of me. You like the way I fill you?"

"Yes daddy!" Your fingers clutch the sheets as the bed rocks with your movements. "So full of you.."

He presses a hand to your abdomen. "Feel me there, baby? All up in your guts. No one else is ever gonna fill you the way I do. No one's ever gonna come close. This needy lil' cunt's gonna be cryin' for me every day until I come back and give her what she needs."

His dirty talk is getting you wetter, your juices running down between your thighs, making his cock all sloppy, the sound of it making you feral for more. "Fuck me, Joel.. fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme.." you mumble, face down, ass up, slack jawed as you drool on the sheets.

He speeds up, hips slamming against yours, balls thwacking under you. "Yeah? Want me to fill ya up, blow all this fuckin' load inside ya? Got snipped years ago, baby, 's up to you."

"Fill me up, make me dirty and messy," you groan.

"You want daddy to give you everything he's got, baby?" he repeats. "You want me to fill you til you're all messy and drippin' with me?"

"Yes.. yes please," you're barely able to get out.

"Fuck," he growls, grabbing hold of your hips as he pounds into you ferociously. Once he has control he places one hand on your back, keeping you pressed down as he angles himself to hit that delicious little spot inside and he knows he's hit it when you cry out, cursing and shivering, clamping down on him like a damn vise right before he lets go, streaming jet after jet of his hot come inside you. There's so much it's already leaking out while he's still inside you.

The rest of the week you make a list of things for Joel to do next time: perhaps check out what's going on with the washing machine, or maybe he could regrout your bathroom, or help you rearrange your living room furniture right before he rearranges your guts again.

Even Wesley notices the bright and cheery mood you're in, and how attractive you've become since taking on some of the home improvements. That weekend he does you a huge favor, and sits back in his armchair as he waits for you to discover it.

"Wesley? What were you doing in the garage for so long? I heard a lot of noise," you tell him, arms crossed, a look of suspicion on your face.

He looks pleased with himself. "Well honey, you've been so agreeable these past few days that I thought I'd cross off some little projects on your to-do list."

"Like what?" you ask slowly.

He lists off everything you've had planned for Joel to do in the coming weeks. Small things, of course, but Wesley has done all of them, leaving you with nothing for daddy to fix.

"I thought you'd be happy," he says, his face cloudy now that you're unhappy again.

"Happy? Not quite." You leave a moment and return with a hammer, heading towards your husband.

He cowers, ducking as you completely pass him by and swing the hammer into the drywall of the living room wall, over and over again. When you've let your anger out and Wesley is rightfully afraid of your next move, you simply smile sweetly, holding the hammer pressed to your apron with your well-manicured hands. "Looks like I'll have to call the handyman after all!"

dividers by @thecutestgrotto 👑

tagging those who showed interest when this baby was still just a wip: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @604to647 @inept-the-magnificent @clawdeewritesfanfic @manuymesut @bitccchmood @everybodylovedcontractors

[viennakarma]

Drunk calls

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You're drunk on your night out and accidentally call your boss, Fernando.

Word count: 1.5k

Tags: Female reader, drunk reader, fluff, Nando comforting reader, boss x employee relationship, not beta read

Relationships: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Notes: Anon requested drunk reader and sober nano, so i just ran with it and wrote a little something while on hangover from the new year party. (Also that ONE pic George Russell posted of him and Nando!!!!)

Hope you enjoy it, Anon!

Find me on Twitter!

As you left the toilet, you felt your legs wobbly as you supported yourself on the wall. You had been clubbing with your friends for a couple of hours now, but a few minutes ago you couldn’t find them, and you looked all around.

Pulling your phone from your purse, you called your bestie to try and find out where she was. As soon as she picked up, you started talking.

“Hi, Hanna! Where are-” You hiccuped, “where are you? I think I’m too drunk now, I can’t find you or the girls, and my head is pounding already, and I can’t walk straight.”

“Y/N?” A male voice asked.

“Who the fuck are you?” You frowned.

“It’s Fernando, you just called me,” he said and you turned your phone seeing that you had actually called him instead of your friend.

“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry, boss!” You said and immediately hung up.

Fuck, you drunk called your boss on your day off. That was most certainly grounds for a reprimand. You had been working as his assistant for almost a year now, and had only been super professional and dedicated to doing your work. You and Fernando had been friendly and settled into a great work dynamic. So accidentally calling him like this would probably cause problems for you.

You didn’t even have time or energy to blame yourself too long as your phone buzzed with an incoming call from Fernando. You immediately hit decline. But barely a second later he called you again. Shit, he probably would tear you a new one. You hit decline again. You started sweating, god, you needed to go home, you needed to eat and you needed to plan a big apology for the next time you see your boss again.

Then two texts appeared coming from Fernando.

“Where are you?” “Pick up the call”

And then he called you again, and you picked it up this time preparing for him to go off on you.

“Where are you?” He breathed loudly.

“I’m at a club with my friends,” you stuttered a little bit, both because of the alcohol and because you were worried he might fire you on the spot.

“You said you lost them. Have you found your friends?”

“No, not really. But it’s okay, I’m gonna go home already!” You hoped you were sounding a little bit more confident.

“How?”

“What?”

“How are you going to go home?” He asked, voice serious.

“I’m gonna call a cab or something. Don’t worry!” Please, sound sober, please sound sober.

“Send me the address, I’m gonna pick you up.”

“No, no! It’s your day off too, you don’t have to worry I’ll be fine! Really, I promise I’m going straight home right-”

“I wasn’t asking. Send the address.” He cut you off and hung up.

Cursing and sweating, you sent him your location, walking slowly to the exit, still trying to locate your friends. As you made it outside, you leaned against the wall, feeling a little better with the fresh gust of wind outside the packed club. You flexed your knees because your heels were feeling like a fucking thousand needles punching the sole of your feet. You should listen to your younger sister and start wearing sneakers to the club.

After a few minutes, you saw a scandalous rich man’s car pulling up and you knew it’s Fernando. He stopped by the sidewalk and came walking to you. He was wearing slacks and a white button up, simple but classy. You had seen in his schedule before that he was going to go out with friends for dinner. So that’s probably where he came from.

He didn’t look too pissed at you but he didn’t look happy either, his face was rather neutral.

“How are you feeling?” He asked as he stopped in front of you. He was holding a water bottle, which he promptly opened and gave to you.

“I have been better, not gonna lie,” you said, and proceeded to drink almost the whole bottle of water.

“Why are you flexing your knees?” He asked.

“Because the heels are killing me.”

Silently, Fernando knelt in front of you and unbuckled the straps of your heels around your ankles.

“Off, now” he said, patting your calves, then offering you a hand so you could step out of the shoes.

“Jesus, thank you,” you mumbled, relieved to be barefoot finally, “I’m sorry, you didn’t have to pick me up.”

“I’m here already, quit whining,” he dismissed you, holding your forearm, “can you walk to the car?”

“Just give me a hand,” you asked, still a little unbalanced. You jolted a little when you felt Fernando’s hands on your thighs but he didn't touch you, he just pulled the hem of your dress down, since it was dangerously close to showing too much and maybe accidentally flashing everyone.

Fernando circled an arm around your waist, pulling you flush to his side, keeping you standing all the way to his car, holding your heels with the other hand. You looked to the side of his face, and you were suddenly hit with the realization that Fernando is really, really attractive. 

“Damn, you’re handsome!”

It honestly slipped past your lips and you felt your cheeks warm up, embarrassed for saying that out loud, but Fernando only laughed a little, and kept walking you to his car, only stopping to open the door and put you in the passenger seat.

As you took the seat, he stared at your face, trying to catch any signs of something in your face. You blinked, staring into his beautiful greeny brown eyes, and he just huffed, pulling the seat belt and locking it around you.

When he finally started driving, the silence deafening, you looked at his side profile.

“Are you upset? I’m sorry! I promise I’ll behave.”

“I’m not upset. Though I will be a little annoyed if you throw up in my Aston Martin,” he said with a small smile.

“No throwing up happening anytime soon!” You raised your hand, held it in a cross and kissed it, “I’m actually really hungry”

Fernando clicked his tongue and reached for the backseat with one hand, pulling a Burger King brown bag. You smelled the food and you smiled.

“Oh my god! You’re a savior!” You opened the bag, which had your favorite burger and big sized fries, “this is my favorite!”

You ate quietly for a couple of minutes then a thought hit you.

“How do you know I like eating Burger King after getting drunk?” You said, and Fernando looked at you, opened the glove box and handed you a tissue.

“I know you well,” was all he said. He ended up driving you to his place, and you decided to question it.

“Why did you drive me here?” You walked in, sitting on the couch.

“What do you mean?” He looked confused.

“Ugh, never mind!” You stood up but the quick movement made you stumble and Fernando quickly held you in place.

“Careful!” He put both hands on your waist, in a way that felt very intimate.

You turned to face him, and he smiled softly, his hand now on your lower back. Then, you touched his eyebrow with the tip of your finger.

“I like your eyebrows.”

“Gracias.”

“And your beard too,” you cupped his face, feeling the roughness of his beard against your palm.

“Vamos, you need a shower,” he carefully walked you up the stairs and then inside the bedroom, straight to the bathroom.

Fernando turned you around and pulled down the zipper on your back. You gasped, holding the dress in place and turning to face him.

“You can’t undress me!”

He turned around, laughing.

“Ok, get in the shower and I’ll get you some clothes, eh?”

You showered, and when you left, a towel around your body, Fernando had left a small pile of clothes inside. There was a big t-shirt and sports shorts that you dressed. He also left you a toothbrush, which seemed very thoughtful of him.

When you walked back to the room, Fernando had changed into comfy clothes, and he was waiting for you sitting on the bed.

“Are you sobering up?” He asked.

And you just nodded, sleepy, crawling into his lap and snuggling into his chest, pressing your nose to his neck.

“Yup.”

“Then you remember who I am?” 

“You’re Fernando!” He laughed a little, kissing the top of your head.

“No, amor,” he leaned back, cradling your face with one hand, and pulling your right hand with the other, “I’m your fiancé.”

Wide eyed, you stared at the big diamond ring in your finger. Then, you finally remembered, your fiancé, your beloved Nano. Who had been your boss sometime two years ago, and you resigned when you realized you had feelings for him. In the end, he had gone after you because he harbored the same feelings for you.

You ended up laughing out loud, so hard that there were tears in your eyes.

“God, I’m never drinking again!”

“It’s cute that you forgot like this,” he laughed too.

You held his face, kissing him softly. His hand ran up your back, under your shirt. You wanted more, trying to deepen the kiss, but he just held you back.

“Sleep now, eh? Tomorrow I will wake you up with besos.”

[landoslvr]

MRS TELEVISION | a. frederick

summary: a scroll through your internet presence as 'mrs television'. [social media AU.]

pairing: fem!reader x arthur frederick (arthurtv)

faceclaim: bri kerr

notes: first piece for mrs television out of the wag universe. bri is gonna be the main fc I use for mrs television, hopefully you like it!

liked by arthurtv, arthurfhill and 1,129 others

yourinstagram helped out on someone else's video for once, chris finally let me leave the dungeon!!!

view all 92 comments

user she kills me

user hottest producer award goes to...

chrismd_10 drinking on the job?

yourinstagram constantly

user she looks peppered in the 3rd slide

user first risky pic from y/n ever on the 6th slide

georgeclarkey thanks for the candid of me and my man 😌😌

arthurtv please someone get him away from me

user y/n's friend is inhaling that guinness 🫢

arthurtv great photography for the 1st and 3rd pictures, big fan!

yourinstagram humble as ever mr television

liked by georgeclarkey, wroetoshaw and 1,398 others

yourinstagram lots of fun at work recently, constantly mixing business and pleasure 🥂 chrismd thanks for keeping me employed even if I drink at work

view all 120 comments

user I can't tell if shes joking about drinking at work 😭

user its definitely a joke, most bts has y/n yelling at chris to pull his head in lol

user she keeps him in line!

yourinstagram have been going on 15 years

user we thank you for your service 🫡

arthurtv no jerseys at the match???

yourinstagram the nerve!

chrismd_10 who's that handsome fella in the last slide?

miniminter leave the md clutches and come to sidemen

yourinstagram throw in talia and you have a deal

georgeclarkey you drunk

yourinstagram seems to be the new normal now, just embracing my new brand (like you and your Invisalign ads)

georgeclarkey too far

liked by callux, arthurtv and 1,781 others

yourinstagram more of a traveller atm than a producer! enjoyed spain very very much, definitely swipe to the 8th slide to see what arthur classifies as a front flip

view all 328 comments

arthurtv it's called being flexible, you wouldn't know anything about it

yourinstagram your six-year-old sister does a better front flip than you

arthurtv leave flora out of this

user guys stop flirting in front of us 😭😭 the false hope hurts

georgeclarkey always appreciate meeting a fan

yourinstagram die

calfreezy that photo was sacred y/n

chrismd_10 I feel ashamed, embarrassed

willne the absolute cheek

user why is no one talking about how good y/n looks in these pictures??

faithlouisak Im thinking the same thing?

user literal island princess

user is that danny aarons in the 5th picture 😭😭

yourinstagram dont even ask how he got the invite

chrismd_10 we're still not sure tbh

liked by callux, arthurtv and 1,901 others

yourinstagram filmed a very *cool* video this week 🌨️

view all 234 comments

arthurtv again, who is your photographer???? such raw talent is exquisite

yourinstagram im very close to letting him go actually, you can have him!

user arthur being the first to comment on her posts fuels my mrs television heart really, give us something guys

user I love them at my core I can't lie

user she is just so pretty

chrismd_10 get back to work

yourinstagram I literally just want to breathe chris

user someone make chris let y/n go, she needs to be a free woman

bezhinga faiths phone is dead but she says 'u look leng'

yourinstagram I love you faith kelly x

liked by callux, arthurtv and 2,193 others

yourinstagram very good friends! (happy one year doofus)

view all 401 comments

user A WHOLE ASS YEAR???????

user who even are they????????

user I feel like I have been swindled here miss l/n

user can we finally call her mrs television??? shes more than chris' producer now, she's one of us

arthurtv best friends for life! (I love you very much)

user I can't tell if im going to cry or faint tbh

user why is he always playing chess, arthur PLEASE

yourinstagram I'm asking this question all the time?

chrismd_10 I take credit for this relationship btw

yourinstagram how so?

chrismd_10 if I hadn't sat with arthur in class and then dragged you into our group project, I like to think this wouldn't have happened

georgeclarkey I love all of the fans so much but please stop sending me these pictures of my fiancé wrapped around another woman

user GEORGE PLEASE

[nanaslutt]

hello, i hope youre good !

may you please write one day about y/n sending hot pics for satoru ?

sorry if I spoke something wrong, english isnt my first language :] take ur time and have a good day ! 💞

Your english is perfect ml, please enjoy! <3

Contains: fem reader, established relationship, sending nudes, phone sex, mutual masturbation, he talks you through it, praise, DIRTY TALK

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"I don't know Shoko.. I've never sent him anything like this before." You groaned into your pillow, your voice through the phone coming out muffled on her end. "But you want to right?" She pushed, making you raise your head up from the sheets and sigh, "I doooo." You huffed out begrudgingly. "Great! Problem solved, the pictures you sent me were hot, but not too revealing, so you can send him something like that for starters." She replied, making you blush at her compliment.

You had recently bought a new set when you went out with Shoko for a girl's day. You had practically ripped the bag in half when you got home so you could get it on your body faster. Once you had on the garment you were posing left and right, making sure to take some sensual pictures for yourself later. Your boyfriend; Satoru; had texted you in the midst of your shenanigans, telling you how he was on his lunch break, making an idea pop into your head.

You wanted to show your man how good you looked, but thinking about sending Satoru; or anyone for that matter; nudes? That made you a little nervous. You quickly dialed up Shoko, she always knew just what to say, she was your hypewoman after all. After a quick convo she had successsfully pushed you in the direction you truly wanted; that being sending your boyfriend risque pictures while he was at work.

"Let me know how it goes, see ya." Shoko's voice echoed through the phone speaker before the tone indicating the call had ended rang through the room. You took a deep breath and rotated yourself on your bed, flopping your back against the pillows, still dressed in the pretty set, while you scrolled through the pictures you had taken-- trying to pick your favorites.

You settled on three for starters, it was an easy pick, only taking you a couple minutes to assess the best ones for Satoru. The first one you were on your side, body laid across the floor sensually as your arm rested on your hip, giving the viewer's eyes full access to your body. In the second picture, you were on your knees, you had placed your phone on the ground and set it to a timer so you could lean forward, making your thighs crease at the top, as you used to squeeze your breasts together.

The last photo was your favorite. You were sat on the floor, your legs folded and spread, the sheerness of the panties leaving little to the imagination in the lighting, while your hand once again rested against your tit, pushing and groping it in your hand while the other took a picture in the mirror, your phone covering most of you face save for a sliver of a smile that peeked out the side of the phone.

Your heart was racing, you knew Satoru would like the pictures, and you're pretty sure he would find you attractive in a trash bag, but you digressed, opening the chat to your lover.

Satoru <3: finally on lunch, yaga brought donuts today!

The picture attached was of the white-haired man laying back in his chair as he held his shirt up over his stomach to reveal his somehow still toned, but bloated tummy, an empty donut box in the background. Something told you that the donuts might've been for the kids, but Yaga should've known that bringing sweets around Satoru without anything for him was a recipe for disaster.

You laughed to yourself as you shook your head before responding. The two of you bantered back and forth about the subject for a while before he asked you what you were up to right now, which gave you the perfect excuse to send him the pictures. After sending an ominous 'you wanna see?' text, you clicked on the three gold medal winning pictures and sent them his way. You bit your lip between your teeth as you watched the blue bar at the top of the screen slowly slide across it, indicating it was sending.

Seconds before the pictures had been successfully sent, Satoru had started typing back his own response, which made you nervous because it meant he was in the chat and would see the photos sooner. Which is what you wanted, yes, but it didn't make it any less nerve-wracking.

When the little ‘delivered’ popped up underneath your pictures, quickly followed by a ‘read’ you held your breath. The three dots that indicated his typing stopped, then started, then stopped again. Uncertainty filled your body, did he not like the pictures? Was he mad you sent them while he was working?

You were snapped out of your stupor when your phone started vibrating in your hand, Satoru’s contact picture and name lighting up the phone as it rang. You quickly answered his call, readying yourself to apologize for being out of line, but before you could do so you heard a loud drawn out groan resonate from the speaker.

“You’re such a tease.” He pouted on the other side of the line, “I only have 5 minutes left on my lunch break and you just made me so fucking hard.” He groaned, making you sigh in relief as you registered his words. “I’m sorry Satoru, I felt pretty and wanted you to see,” you faux apologized, biting your lip as you looked around your room.

“And you do look so fucking pretty baby, that’s the problem.” He sighed, spinning himself around in his chair while he stared down at his erect cock that was tenting up his pants. He looked over at the large clock on his wall, which he mainly used for decoration, before sighing into the receiver. "Thank you, Satoru," You blushed. "I was going to send them when you texted me that you were on your lunch but our conversation wasn't really.. in that mood" You explained.

You heard his signature laugh from the other end, "Baby, I don't care if I just told you the school got attacked by a hoard of curses, if you have sexy pictures to show me you better not keep them from me." You rolled your eyes, you both knew he was exaggerating and you would never do such a thing, but his words made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside still. "Sorry Satoru, is it too late to tell you that I took more than the ones I sent you?" You giggled, biting your lip when you heard him groan in response.

"Fuckk, please send me those pictures baby~" He wined, reaching over to his wireless headphones as he popped onto into his ear so he could still hear you while he oggled your pictures, he wouldn't want anyone to hear this conversation after all. You were one step ahead of them, the delivered notification once again popped up on your screen as you sent him three more pictures, all more risque than the last.

In one your back was arched in the mirror, showing off the pretty decoration on the back of the panties. Another, you completely abandoned the bra of the set, leaving the panties on as you covered your nipples with your fingers, and one of the same vein of you holding the phone over your body while you lay on the bed, your arm squishing your tits in the bra together while it cupped over your panty-less cunt.

"Oh you're trying to kill me, look at that fucking arch." He groaned, covering his mouth with his hand as he took in the photos. "Baby you look so cute in that last one." He complimented, making you blush and giggle as you whispered out your thanks to him. He looked over to the clock once more, it was a couple minutes over the time he was supposed to be back and teaching the kids, but he figured if he was already late, what was a couple more minutes?

"Answer that," Satoru instructed, referring to the FaceTime request that popped up on your phone from him. You accepted it quickly, pulling your phone from your ear as you slid the green button over, smiling fondly when his flushed face popped into view. "You're so handsome, Satoru." You complimented, feeling your stomach start to tie itself in knots with how debauched he looked from just looking at the pictures you sent him, he was so clearly aroused.

"Oh shit, you still have it on?" He said, biting his lip as he set his phone down on the desk in front of him, giving you a full veiw of his body as he leaned back once more and startaed rubbing himself over his slacks. "Satoru what are you doing?" You asked with a laugh, surely it had been longer than five minutes now, he needed to get back to teaching. "Shh baby, they wont miss me for a couple more minutes ill make it quick." You imediately picked up on what he was insinuating.

"Look at how hard I am baby, I can't go out there looking like this." He wined, tipping his head to the side against his chair as he looked at you with a pout. "You're gonna take care of me too right?" You asked, giggling before you set up your own phone on your bed, using some pillows to stabilize it. The white-haired man scoffed before he started unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out, "Can't believe you just asked me that." He said, semi-faux offense plastering itself on his face, "Was there ever a time I've left you unsatisfied?" He asked, slapping his cock against his free hand when it was finally unobstructed from his too-tight pants.

You sat back on your heels and started massaging your tits in your hands, making the warmth in your stomach grow as you pretended to think, looking around the room as you hummed. "Oh, so you already forgot how I made you cum in under a minute before work yesterday morning?" He said confidently, beginning to stroke himself as he watched you push your covered tits together. "I barely have to touch you and you're a squirming mess, dont play with me." He huffed out a laugh, bringing his other hand down to massage his balls in his hand, really giving you a show.

"But you're not here right now, Satoru." You retorted, sliding one of your hands down your body slowly, making your way down to your cunt. "Maybe not, but just my words are making you all wet, huh?" He asked knowingly, pulling his lip between his teeth as he watched you tease yourself. You nodded, making him coo at you as you finally made it to your cunt as you started to rub small circles over your clit.

"Get comfortable for me baby, keep the set on." He instructed. You lay back against the pillows and spread your legs. The crotch of the panties had a little patch over your entrance that he couldn't see through, but every other part of the fabric was almost completely sheer, except for the fact that your wetness was seeping through them little by little and making them see through the more you teased yourself.

"Play with your nipples while you rub yourself baby." He groaned, trying to keep his voice relatively quiet as he was in his office. "This is so dirty." You giggled, following his instructions. You rubbed small circles against your panty-clad clit while you pinched your nipple through the fabric of the unpadded bra.

The two of you have tried many things sexually throughout the entirety of your relationship together, but somehow, have never thought of getting off together over the phone. When Satoru was gone on missions the two of you would send dirty messages back and forth, saying how bad you missed each other, but nothing to this extent. This was opening a whole new world for the both of you, and it would be something you would definitely do again.

"Good fucking girl. Goddd, what I wouldn't give to bend you over right now and fuck you into the bed." He groaned, his strokes picking up pace while he watched your body jerk and twitch under your ministrations. "Yeah?" You encouraged, rubbing yourself faster and harder as your cunt clenched around nothing, aching for him to fill you up.

"Yes baby, want you to fuck yourself back on my cock too, wanna watch your little pussy swallow up my dick." He continued, rambling as the wet strokes on his dick emanated louder through the room. "Pull your panties aside and touch yourself, gotta see your pretty pussy." He grit through his teeth, as he tried to keep his eyes from rolling back in his had. You did as told, pulling the fabric aside you exposed your twitching clit and pulsing hole, a string of your arousal that connected to the panties failed to excape his eyes, making Satoru's cock twitch.

"Touch yourself, baby, pretend it's me touching you." He groaned, letting his jaw drop as he watched your fingers come in contact with the little bud, beginning to rub quick circles against it, just like he always does. "L-like this Toru?" You asked, needing him to praise you right now. "Just like that baby, doing so good for me, so fucking perfect." He groaned, shaking his head back and forth as he watched your smaller fingers work yourself through your orgasm.

"Shit, wanna feel your cunt squeezing me so bad, can see her twitching." He whined, making you blush in embarrassment at how exposed you were. Satoru's leg started bouncing against the floor at how fast he was working himself up. "P-please, fuck me Toru', fuck me-" You whimpered, getting lost in the sensation as you tipped your head back against the pillows and dropped your other hand down to the opening of your pussy, slowly sliding them inside your walls and starting up a blissful pace as you curled them up towards your sweet spot.

"Yes fuck your pussy for me, baby, yesyesyes." The man rambled, his back beginning to arch off the chair with how close he was. The squelching emitting from your cunt was going to send him over the edge, he so desperately wanted to pull your inadequate fingers out and lick them clean before he replaced them with his own. "Faster baby, cmon, get yourself there." He begged, slowing his strokes against his cock to let you get closer to your orgasm so the two of you could cum together. "I-I'm fuck S-satoru- Right there- right there-" You moaned, losing yourself in your fantasy as you fucked your fingers harder and deeper into yourself.

"Yeah? Right there? You like when I fuck you right there?" He slurred, clenching his teeth together as he picked up his pace once more, beginning to fuck his hips up into his hand. "Yes Toru- G-gonna- gonna cum-" You wined, your voice raising in pitch as you dropped your chin down to the screen in front of you, watching the show he was so kindly putting on for you as the sight pushed you over the edge.

"M-me too- Gonna fill you up cutie- fucking- take it-" Satoru groaned, hot ropes of cum spurting from his dick as his torso curled in slightly, his abs clenching and body jerking with the force of his orgasm. He watched intently as you snapped your legs shut around your hand, he saw the muscles in your forearm moving, praising you for working yourself through it as wave after wave of your high crashed over you. "Good girl, good fucking girl." He praised, slowing his strokes on his cock as he worked himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

"S-shit" Your body relaxed against the sheets once more, your legs staying shut as you relished in the friction your closed thighs brought to your cunt as you came down from your orgasm. You heard your boyfriend giggle, dropping your knees down to the side you looked down at the screen and noticed that he was wiping his cock clean and tucking himself back into his pants. "Whew, 3 minutes, and I didn't even touch you." He praised himself, making you laugh and roll your eyes at him as you sat up to grab your phone in your hand and lay it against the side of the bed with you as you laid down.

"You could say the same for me too you know." you retorted, making him smirk. "Yeah, you could, made me make a huge fucking mess." He giggled, staring at you lovingly through the phone. "You look beautiful." He said, making hearts practically form in your eyes as you thanked him. "Clean yourself up before you fall asleep, I'll be home soon, okay?" He said, raising his eyebrows at you as he waited for your answer before he ended the call.

"Okay Satoru, hurry please." You added the two of you said your goodbyes, he blew you an animated-looking kiss before he hung up the call. You sighed, dropping your hand against the sheets as you smiled to yourself, you couldn't wait for him to get home.

After giving yourself a couple more seconds to lie there, you sat up, heading his words as you started to get yourself cleaned up. You paused in your ministrations when your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up as Satoru's name popped up on the screen. You decided to check his message before you left for the bathroom, your jaw dropped and your body tensed when you opened his message.

There was a picture of Satoru's impressive-sized softening cock that rested on his hand, his length and hand alike covered in his cum with a message attached. When did he even have time to take that picture?

Satoru <3: Keep the set on till I get home please~

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 17

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 17

Word Count: 5955

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU; Mention of ex mentally abusive relationship;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: One more chapter to go... gosh, I'm already feeling nostalgic... please enjoy this one (though it's angst most of the way through...) PS: Thank you @hopelesslover06 for suggesting this song! It fits perfectly!

|Masterlist| | |Chapter 16| | |Epilogue|

You feel like crying. The tightness in your throat is suffocating, and the lump in it refuses to go down. Your eyes burn and itch, and you can barely stop the trembling of your lips. 

But you'll be damned if you shed another tear near Ichiji. 

How could you be so dumb? So naïve? Such an idiot! You should've known better than to try to be the bigger person. How could you have felt bad for someone who manipulated you so easily? He needed closure? He didn't deserve any! 

Idiot! 

You're almost baffled by your judgement of the situation! You can only think that you let it happen because you were feeling blissed out and happy after the love confession you and Law shared. To be truthful, closure wasn't just meant for him, but mostly for you. You needed to know you were finally rid of Ichiji. How stupid you were. 

And now, as you ride home on the longest drive of your life - with Ichiji by your side - all you can think about is how your naïveté ruined the only good thing to happen to you in years. 

The most beautiful thing, actually. 

Have you lost Law for good? It pains you to simply consider that possibility, but how can you not? Doflamingo made it very clear you're not to speak with Law, or Doffy will ruin the clinic. You cannot imagine him making empty threats, and even so, you'd much rather not risk his wrath. 

Though you can find a loophole… 

If Law is the one to speak with you, then you're not breaking your promise, right? 

Frantically searching through your purse, you try to find your phone, barely acknowledging Ichiji's quizzical looks. You're doing your best to ignore his presence, though he has tried to make small talk since you both entered the limo. 

“Come on, where is it?” You mutter under your breath, taking out all the contents of the purse and placing them on the seat of the car. You and Law left your phones in the room before the wedding because it was a specific request by Baby 5. She wanted all the guests to be focused on the wedding instead of their devices. Doflamingo brought all your belongings to this car. It has to be in your purse. 

“You won't find it, Doll.”

“Shut up.” You automatically reply before biting your lip. Silent treatment and consequent ignoring of one's presence imply that you don’t speak with him. So you shouldn't speak with him. Then again… “What do you mean?” You ask without looking him in the eyes. 

“Donquixote confiscated your phone. No doubt to keep you from speaking with Trafalgar. Though I wouldn't put it past him to snoop on everything you have there.” His tone is amused, and that alone makes you seethe. It takes one manipulator to know another one. 

“He won't be able to unlock it.” You say, shaking the remaining contents of your purse into your lap and coming out one phone short. “Shit!”

“Won't he?” Ichiji's dry chuckle has you grinding your teeth in no time, your pain momentarily forgotten and replaced by pure, unbridled anger. “Wasn't your tablet password-locked, too?”

Fuck. 

“How—...” You don't even finish your sentence. You know how. And, once again, shame on you and your naïveté. You never changed passcodes since you broke up with Ichiji, and he knows them all. “I hate you so much, Ichiji.”

You can barely contain the pained sob that crawls up your throat, threatening to spill over and give voice to the grief filling your chest. 

“It's alright, Doll. I deserve that hate.” Ichiji smirks. 

“What do you have to gain by this? I don't get it. Was it just the satisfaction of seeing me suffer?” There goes your resolution about not crying in front of him. 

Ichiji remains silent for so long that you think he's ignoring you. Your stifled sobs and the soft music from the radio are the only sounds that surround you. 

Until he speaks. “You were mine first.” That has to be the most childish, selfish exclamation ever. Your scoff does nothing to stop his words, though. “And I'm not used to losing.”

“You're despicable.”

Stuffing all of your things back into your purse, you vow not to speak to Ichiji again. Maybe this time you'll learn your lesson. 

-*-

“Come on, Law, are you sure that's what you saw?” Cora pats Law's back with fondness, trying to subtly put the whiskey bottle away from his reach because he's clearly had enough. “From what you told me just now, and I'm assuming you only skimmed the details, her past relationship with Ichiji was toxic, to say the least. Would she really get back with him?”

Law can't help but think that Cora does have a point. Law's witnessed you lose control and spiral because of Ichiji more times than he can count just this weekend. Why would you go back to him? 

The kiss… 

Was there really a kiss? Maybe not, but there was definitely an intimate hug. And then you left. 

With him… 

And that is something he cannot stomach. Not even with the help of whiskey or Cora's words. Something’s not adding up, and he's not sure what it is. 

“I know what I saw.” Ichiji's hand on your lower back, both of you leaving. Without saying goodbye. 

“Have you tried calling her? Listen to what she has to say?”

Law downs another glass of whiskey and steals the bottle back from Cora. “I don't want to listen.” But he does. And he did try to call you. 

Straight to voicemail. 

He won't try again. It's pretty clear now, no matter how much of what happened doesn't add up, you left without a word and don't want to be contacted. You weren't forced to leave, he saw you. You left of your own volition. And, damn it, if that doesn't hurt. Because both of you had just exchanged love confessions. It all felt so real. 

And it's over. Just like that. 

“I'm sure she has a good explanation, Law. Please be rational. Use your brain a bit instead of just your heart.” Cora's words are soft, but Law doesn't care for any of them.

“I can't be rational, Cora, when I feel completely out of control! How can I think straight when all I feel is pain?” Law gulps down whiskey straight from the bottle and gets up from the table. The venue is empty by now, as empty as his heart. Then he gets up on slightly wobbly feet, ignoring Cora’s help and nursing the bottle against his chest. “I'm going to bed. I'm fine!” He adds before Cora has a chance to say anything else. 

But he's not fine. He's far from it, actually. And he's being completely honest. There's no way he can let his rational self take over when his emotional self is spiralling and hurting. He’s regressed back to the state he was in after Monet. 

And he's not quite sure if this time he'll be able to get out at all. 

-*-

It's nearly six in the morning when you arrive home. The sun is already peeking through the clouds, casting its orange glow on the fields you know so well. 

Ichiji dozed off beside you, but thankfully, he stopped trying to make small talk with you around halfway through the ride. When you heard him snoring, you finally let yourself cry. Sleep eluded you all the way home and, despite feeling completely exhausted, you're not sure you'll ever be able to sleep again. 

When the limo stops near your porch and the driver starts to unload your bags, Ichiji stirs awake, but you pay him no mind. Yet, while you're still grabbing your purse and the shoes you took off, he gets out of the limo and goes around to open the door for you, something he never did when you were together. 

“You're home safe, Doll.” He says with a smile, and you simply grunt, getting up and swatting his extended hand away. When you look up the porch, Shanks is already there. A heavy frown on his lips as he stares at Ichiji and your - assuredly - tear-strained, swollen face. “Hello, Mr. Shanks.”

Ichiji waves and tries to place a hand on your lower back to lead you up the stairs. You flinch and squirm, your warning snarl turning into a sob without meaning to. “Stop. Touching. Me. You've done enough.”

“Alright, Vinsmoke, I'm gonna give you five seconds to get your ass back into the limo and disappear from my property before things start to get ugly.” Shanks bellows from the porch before starting to descend the steps, at the same time you're walking towards him. “One…”

“Doll…”

“Two…”

“I'm a phone call away.” Ichiji's carefree smirk still manages to send a wicked shiver down your spine. 

“Three…”

“Get lost, Ichiji.” You drawl out, too tired to come up with a witty retort. 

“Four… I'm not bluffing.”

“Fine.” Ichiji laughs and enters the limo without another look your way, though before closing the door, he still manages to add, “I still won. You might not be mine, but you're definitely not his.”

And before the limo reaches the gate, you're hugging yourself, ragged sobs leaving your lips in broken pants as your father rushes down the last steps to hold you against him in a one-armed embrace. 

“Hey, hey, Bug, what's going on? What happened? Where's Law?” You bite down a desperate wail when your father mentions Law, but your shoulders keep shaking with sobs. He quickly realises something went wrong, but he doesn't pry, at least not yet. “Come inside, honey. There's coffee and some cake Makino made for me. It's your favourite.”

He tries, thinking it might help cheer you up. He's not wrong. A slice of your favourite cake and a mug of coffee might not even begin to heal your wounds or mend your soul, but it might patch you up just enough to pull yourself together for a few hours. So you follow Shanks inside, his arm steadying your wobbly steps. 

You realise you should take a bath. You’re still wearing the bridesmaid dress, and your feet are dirty, you’re sweaty and tired and you’re pretty sure some hot water would feel like a balm to your broken heart. Yet you barely find the strength to sit down at the kitchen table while Shanks prepares a cup of coffee and some cake, let alone to take a shower.

Your father sits down in front of you. He’s silent, but his eyes carry all the unspoken questions he means to ask you, his worry evident in the way he absorbs every hiccup, every sob, every tremble of your hands. It’s clear he wants to comfort you, but he doesn’t quite know how to do it without prying. 

“Want to tell me what happened?” He asks after you finish eating, his voice soft.

You don’t. You really don’t want to talk about it. But you also don’t want to worry your father more than you already have, so perhaps you should give him something. 

A heavy sigh parts your lips before you begin your tale. “Law and I… we… we connected and… things were going great, until they weren’t…” Shaking your head, you give up on telling all the details, all the hurt and manipulations you’ve both suffered. It’s too much, and you just can’t go through it again. 

Shanks gets enough of it to realise your heart is broken, whatever the reason may be, so he nods and reaches for your hand. “It’s okay, Bug. You don’t have to tell it all right now. Want to get some rest? You look… well… you look a bit…”

“I know. I’ll go up to my room, thanks, dad.” You know you look like crap. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to sleep, though. But it’s worth a shot.

-*-

You didn’t try to call him back. You didn’t try to reach out. You just… ghosted him.

When Law left the party, tipsy and broken-hearted, after being led to his room by a worried Cora - despite Law’s insistence that he could do it on his own - he didn’t realise that all your stuff was gone. He just realised how cold and lonely the room felt without your presence. How big the bed seemed, and how empty he was. 

When he woke up this morning, though… it was like another knife was shoved into his already bleeding chest. You had not only left him without a word, you had planned it, since there was no way you could have packed that fast. 

Were you playing him all night? All weekend? Why?

Law can’t grasp what your motivations are for this move. Why did you go back to a toxic relationship? To someone who hurt you so much and so permanently that they still triggered panic attacks.

It doesn’t make any sense. 

But no matter how hard he tries to find reasons for your sudden disappearance, his hurt always takes over any rational thought. It’s the feeling of being betrayed, abandoned, and left behind that prevents him from coming to any rational conclusion.

Why?

He doesn’t know… he just knows he’s broken once again. He placed his trust, he laid down his love, and was, once more, deceived. 

-*-

Days pass slowly. You barely sleep, barely eat, there’s not much that can motivate you. All you can think about is Law. How hurt and broken he must be feeling. You didn’t even have a chance to explain, so, obviously, he’s thinking the worst.

Your phone arrived in the mail one day after you did. Law’s contact was blocked, and there was a letter accompanying the device reminding you of the consequences of pursuing any contact with him. 

Like you needed the reminder.

Doflamingo’s words still ring clearly in your head. There’s no way you’ll provoke his wrath, not when Law’s work is in jeopardy. You can’t risk it. 

You try to distract yourself with work around the farm, and when your father sends you back into the house, claiming he doesn’t need any help, you start to rearrange the kitchen cabinets, organising everything, getting rid of old stuff, filling your mind with small, menial tasks to keep yourself busy instead of losing yourself in sorrow and pain. 

It barely works.

It takes about a week before you crack a smile at something Shanks says. Well… it’s barely a smile, but it’s something other than the constant sad look you’ve now grown used to. 

You share a bit more of what transpired with your father because you know he’s worried, but you leave out all the parts with Doflamingo and Ichiji. Leaving what really happened unsaid, minimising so much of your pain that, when you retell it like that, it almost seems like you’re overreacting. 

Shanks doesn’t question anything, though. He just supports you. 

-*-

Cora calls Law almost daily, checking in on him, making sure he’s eating and asking how he’s feeling. His uncle tries to lighten up the matter, but Law knows he’s terrified. He’s afraid Law will return to the broken shell of a man he was when Monet betrayed his trust. That’s why he keeps reaching out.

Law knows he won’t do that to Cora again. He’ll never shut him out because he knows how much that hurt him. But Law doubts he’ll ever be able to trust anyone again. 

He’s returned to the clinic, and if at first his friends greet him with bright smiles and teasing questions, as soon as they sense the mood he’s in and how closed off he appears, all questions cease. They realise something went wrong, and they know better than to pry.

Law buries himself in work. He takes double shifts at the hospital, prolongs clinic hours. When he’s not seeing patients, he’s studying patient files or writing up essays, anything to keep his mind distracted and useful. 

Anything else is too painful. 

It all reminds him of you.

-*-

You’re not sure if you’ll ever feel whole again. Or happy, for that matter. Everything seems bleak, devoid of colour, empty… You try to make an effort to smile more often, if only for your father’s benefit, but it all feels fake…

Though you’ve managed to limit your crying fits to bedtime only. 

That is, until you receive a package in the mail. It’s a thin envelope addressed to you, and for a brief moment, you fear that it might come from Doflamingo. Another bunch of threats or something else to remind you to stay away from Law. 

It’s not.

It’s the photos from your and Law’s photoshoot.

And it’s like a knife through your heart.

A sob shakes your shoulders as it claws through your throat, and you slump down on the kitchen floor. Tears spill and fall freely across your cheeks, and the pain is overwhelming. 

As you flip through the pictures, over and over, you can’t keep grief at bay: You and Law smiling at each other; you rolling Law’s sleeves as he gazes at you with nothing short of adoration; you tousling his hair while he graces you with a smirk; your soft kiss, full of passion; your look of devotion as the both of you realise that what you share is not part of a fake relationship…

There’s so much love there. 

It hurts so much.

The pictures scatter on the floor as you use both hands to clamp your mouth. Shanks is just outside, you don’t want to alert him to your crying, but you can’t help the sobs from shaking your chest and shoulders. 

It’s too painful. 

With trembling hands, you reach for your phone, finger hovering over Law’s name. You want to see him, you want to speak to him… you need him. 

An eternity passes before your heart settles, and you set your phone down. You can’t call him. 

You can’t…

Picking up the photos, you return to your room to store them somewhere far away from you. At least Shanks didn’t see you break down.

One less worry.

-*-

Shanks waits for you to leave to go to the store to pick up some of his favourite cookies he completely forgot to buy when he was there this morning. 

Then he goes to your room. He doesn’t want to pry, actually, he really shouldn’t pry, but he can’t stand to see you so broken, so unlike yourself. 

He doesn’t know the full story since you didn’t share everything, but he knows Law means far more to you than you let on. It wasn’t just a small fling that went wrong, as you tried to paint it, it was far deeper. He knows it.

And he needs to see what was inside that envelope that made you break down on the kitchen floor. He wants to help, that’s all. 

It takes him little time to find it, though. Ever since you took all of your childhood things out of your room, it’s been quite empty, save for your clothes, some books, and a few items you just didn’t want to part with. 

Shanks can’t help the small smile form on his lips as he looks at the pictures of you and Law. You both look so happy, so in love. He can see it in every single one of the photos, from the way you look at each other to the way you touch one another. After a few photos he almost feels like he’s intruding on something personal and private, so he sets the photos back into the envelope and stores it where it was.

He knows what to do to help you now.

Whatever happened between the two of you, it can’t have been destroyed in a weekend. Not when it seems so strong.

He’s done sitting on the sidelines of your life, so he’s going to act.

-*-

When Baby 5 sends him the photos from the photoshoot, Law has half a mind to just throw them in the trash without opening the envelope. He can’t justify why he doesn’t do just that.

Is he a masochist?

He must be.

There’s no other explanation for why he’s opening the envelope, heart already pounding madly against his chest, even before he scans its contents.

When he does, though…

He can’t say he’s more broken-hearted  than before, really, because he can’t be more broken than that. But these pictures cut him in ways he can’t even begin to grasp, let alone comprehend. How can what you two had have been forsaken in a few moments?

How can a love so deep and so strong be torn asunder like that?

Nothing adds up, nothing makes sense, and Law doesn’t know what to do anymore. Should he still dare to hope and seek you out himself? Or should he just accept defeat and let you go?

-*-

“Dad, I’m home. I had to go to two different stores just to get you your cookies, so you better–... Shanks!” The sight of your father sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs makes your stomach climb all the way up to your throat. “Dad, dad! What happened?”

Shanks groans and grunts. He’s lying down, his back bent in a weird position and his face twisted with a pained grimace. “I tripped, Bug.”

“Down the stairs? Why can't you be more careful?” You fuss over him, not really knowing if you should move him or not, panic already making you sweat. 

“My phone is in the living room. I couldn’t call you or anyone for help. But I’m not that hurt. It’s just my back…”

“What do you mean just your back? The back you just had surgery on? The same one?” Your voice rises with each sarcastic question, already fumbling through your purse, searching for your phone. 

“Take me to the clinic, Bug, please.”

Oh, no, no. You can’t. The trembling in your hands makes your phone fall, and you take a deep shaky breath before picking it up and searching for the fire station number. “No. We’re going to the hospital. I’m calling Luffy.”

Shanks’ hand grips your wrist tightly as he whispers your name. “Take me to the clinic. If you take me to the hospital, I’ll be in the ER forever, and they’ll just call Law because he’s the one who operated on me. Cut me some slack and just take me to the one who can help me.”

Shanks is already sitting up with a pained grunt, and you start to panic. You can’t see Law, you just can’t. Even though it’s the one thing you want to do, you can’t.

“I… I…” Though you can stay in the car. You just need to drive your dad there, that’s it. That’s all you have to do, there’s no need to go inside. “Okay, let’s go.” 

-*-

“Here we are, I’ll leave you with Penguin and Shachi and wait here in the car, okay?”

“No!” Shanks exclaims, one hand already clutching your wrist while the other presses into his lower back. “It hurts, Bug, I need you, please!” If you hadn’t witnessed his sprawled-out form at the bottom of the steps, you would say he’s faking it.

You have half a mind to refuse and just call one of the men over to help, but your heart constricts in your chest, and all the sleepless nights you spent by his side when he was operated on rush into your mind like a drama movie. He needs you, and you need to know he’ll be fine.

“Fine! Let’s go.” Ushering your father through the entrance of the clinic, you still have every intention of leaving him with the nurses, like you did the first time you brought him here, and leaving to wait for him in the car, begging Kaya to update you with news. He’ll be none the wiser, and you won’t have to face Law. 

But just by being in the clinic, your heart seems ready to burst out of your chest with all the force it’s beating with. How would Law react if he saw you? 

Hurt, definitely. Betrayed, for sure. Angry? Most likely.

While you would shatter immediately. You miss him so, so much.

“Kaya, can you help us, please?” Your words are barely a whisper. You’re not sure if Law can hear what happens outside of his office door, but you don’t want to chance it. Kaya looks at you in awe and, then, with one look at your father, her expression changes to a half-hidden smirk.

What?

You look at Shanks, but he’s still grimacing in pain, though you can almost wager he made some sort of signal to Kaya for her to react like that.

“Bring Mr. S. this way.” She leads you towards a familiar door, and you pause.

“Oh, no, no. Where’s Penguin? Or Shachi? Dad, you can go in… I’ll…”

“Nonsense! Let’s go!” Kaya practically shoves you until you’re in front of Law’s office door. Your stomach turns and twists, and you can’t stop the ragged gasps from leaving you.

You can’t do this. You can’t see Law. Doflamingo… the clinic… no, no, no…

“There’s an urgent patient, Dr. Trafalgar!” Kaya announces as she opens the door without knocking and shoves you inside.

Your breath catches in your throat when you and Law lock gazes. He’s slumped on his desk, elbows on the table while his fingers thread through his dark locks, a defeated look in his eyes, and you can’t help but feel all the pain of the past weeks crashing down in waves again. 

He’s up in an instant, a surprised look in his eyes and a flicker of hope in them. He quickly masks it by holding his cold demeanour back in place, though. Everything happens in seconds, but it’s been so long since you’ve seen him that it seems like an eternity. 

God, it hurts so much.

“Would you look at that, my back is healed! I feel fine! But maybe you two should talk.” Shanks exclaims before closing the door and leaving you inside, heart thumping and tears threatening to fall. 

All you want to do is run to him, swing your arms around his neck and kiss him. Tell him how sorry you are and how it was all a mistake and how much you love him. 

But you can’t.

Because everything he’s worked for is on the line and Doflamingo can destroy it all in mere seconds.

“I… I… I should go…” You whisper but don’t make a single move. You don’t want to go. You thought you were strong enough to endure separation because it was for Law’s sake. You could handle a broken heart, you’ve done it before, even if it didn’t hurt nearly as much as now. But the truth is that you’re weak, and now Law is right in front of you. The damage is already done, so you better use it to at least apologise.

Right?

“Maybe you should. That’s one thing you seem to be good at… leaving me.” Law’s voice sounds broken, unused, and very raw. His words hurt more than any separation ever could, but they ring true. He’s right, you left him.

Biting down your lip to hold in a sob, you wrap your arms around yourself as a shield and downcast your gaze. 

“I’m sorry…” That’s all you can say. You can’t tell him what Doflamingo threatened, you can’t share any of that. But you want to make amends. At least that. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Law starts to pace his office, his hand raking through his hair in desperate motions, all of his control seemingly slipping away with ease now that he’s seen you. 

“And yet you did. Why? I just–... God! Why?” You remain silent. You can’t tell him the truth, but you refuse to lie. “Why go back to a toxic relationship? I thought–... damnit, I thought you were healing! Why?”

You can hold back the words but you fail to hold back the tears. Your nails are already shaping indents against your arms with the strength you're gripping them and your lower lip must be near breaking open with the force of which you are biting it. 

“I need to know what happened, I thought we–... I thought you loved me!” The way his voice breaks has you instantly sobbing. Why does it hurt so much? “Please… tell me… please.”

‘I don’t beg, sweetheart. Ever.’ 

He said that to you in your most intimate moment and yet… Now he’s begging you for the truth. But you can’t!

“Do you still love him?” Your head raises in shock and you see Law slumping his shoulders, his eyes downcasting like he’s expecting you to answer ‘yes’, and you can’t stay silent anymore.

“I don’t! I don’t love him, Law, I love–...” You stop the words just as you were about to spill them, but Law seems so focused on finding out what happened that he doesn’t even acknowledge what you were about to say.

“Did you kiss him?”

“No!” Law raises his eyes to you, a hint of disbelief darkening the amber in them and you falter. He doesn’t trust your words, you’ve hurt him too deeply. “I didn’t! And I shouldn’t have hugged him either, that was a terrible mistake!”

“Then why did you?”

“I thought–...” This you can share, at least this might help mitigate some of his pain. “He wanted closure, that’s what he said, so he could leave and move on and, frankly, so did I!” You sigh, and another sob accompanies it. “I was feeling the happiest I’ve ever felt because of you… and when he proposed closure, I thought… that’s exactly what I needed too!”

You have been wracking your brain as to why you so readily accepted his hug and came to this conclusion, even though it was an unconscious one, you know that’s what your heart meant. 

“I needed to leave my hurtful past behind so I could start a future with you. I just never thought… If I could go back… I would’ve never let them–...” Another sob interrupts your speech, and you use it to shut up because if you don’t, you might speak too much, you might’ve already have… 

Law is silent, and you steal a glance his way. He’s still pacing back and forth, a deep crease between his eyebrows to accompany his pursed lips, like he’s in deep thought. Maybe he didn’t acknowledge your slip-up again. 

“You don’t love him, you didn’t kiss him…” He pauses right in front of you and you have to hold your breath because his scent is intoxicating. It brings back memories of kisses and touches, of sweet nothings and whispered forevers. It’s much more than you can bear at the moment. “So… why? Why did you leave with him? There has to be an explanation…”

He takes another step forward but quickly falls back, clenching his fists against his legs as if to stop himself from the impulse to touch you. 

“I knew that what I saw must’ve had an explanation, so as soon as I cooled off, I came back. I was going to speak with you, hear what you had to say because, surely, I had jumped to conclusions. But then…” Law retreats another step, passing his hand through his face and groaning. “You were leaving with Vinsmoke! With him! Not at the same time as him by coincidence or chance, but with him.” Another fresh wave of tears hits you, and the slight tremble in Law’s voice shows you just how hard he’s struggling to keep it together. “Why? I can’t understand why…”

And you can’t tell him. 

So, this is where you’re going to leave things. He wants to understand, and you can’t explain. You both love each other so much and you can’t be together. It’s heart-wrenching, devastating, and you just feel like screaming. 

“Why?” He insists and you keep sobbing. Your name leaves his lips in another whispered plea. “Why?”

“I can’t…” You say, the pain of your words cutting deep into both your hearts. 

Suddenly, he’s right in front of you, his presence overwhelming, as always, and the urge to hold him is so strong that it almost makes you dizzy. You take two steps back to try and escape him before you fold, and stop when your back hits the door. 

“You can’t, what?” He insists, still coming closer, his voice more eager, like he’s realising there’s something you’re not telling him and that it must be the puzzle piece he’s been missing to grasp what happened. 

You just shake your head, closing your eyes and biting back another sob. With another step, he’s right in front of you. It takes another heartbeat to feel his hand cupping your cheek, feeling your tears, maybe realising you’re hurting too much for someone who, supposedly, left him. 

God, you’re not strong enough. 

“Tell me what really happened. I refuse to believe you just left me like that.” Law presses his forehead against yours, and you let out a strangled whimper. You need his touch, his love, his lips… you need him. Suddenly, Law’s breath hitches, like he finally grasped something. “Them…? You said ‘them’! Do you mean… is Doffy involved? Is he threatening you?”

You know Law is a genius, but you weren’t expecting him to get it so fast. Still, you shake your head. You can’t risk Doflamingo shutting down Law’s clinic. You just can’t. You don’t know if Law would choose you over his job, and you don’t want to force him to have to make that choice. 

“You can’t say, right? Fine.” He pulls back his face, but not his body or his hand. “Look at me.” You obey because he’s using the voice and, frankly, you just don’t have any strength left to fight anymore. “I’m going to ask you one question, and if the answer is ‘no’, you can leave and we don’t have to speak anymore. Okay?”

You nod softly, his closeness leaving you breathless. 

“Do you love me?” Law’s thumb brushes your lower lip, his face too close to yours, and you try, you really try hard to hold back your emotions, but you can't. Whatever feeble defences you had left come down crumbling and crashing alongside a fresh bout of tears as you nod vigorously. 

“I do. I love you, Law, I love you so much.” Your voice falters with the weight of everything because if there was a chance of just leaving Law behind and having him and his business be safe, it was now, and you just squandered it. “So, so much.”

Your eyes meet his, and he stops breathing for a moment. The cold gaze he’s been wearing and shielding his emotions with dissolves as his gaze softens. Relief, longing, and a resemblance of understanding flood his features as he cups your face with both hands.

“God, love, I’ve missed you so much.”

You barely have time to process anything before his lips crash into yours in a kiss full of longing and despair. You immediately melt into his touch, your fingers grasping his shirt, pulling him closer to you, afraid you’ll lose him again. 

You know Doffy is going to make his threat come true; you know you’ve just jeopardised Law’s lifework; you know you should’ve just left when you had the chance; you know this is all wrong.

But how can wrong feel so right?

This is where you belong, this is where you want to be.

Forever. 

Tag List:@rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @rainbow2312 @alexturnersgirl

|Epilogue|

[aurorawritestoescape]

ADDICTED || Max Phillips x f!reader || 3k

Summary: Max gives you everything you need but can you stop when the pleasure gets addictive?

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, angst, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamic, biting, blood drinking (not graphic), f/m oral, mind control (dub-con, then very enthusiastic), slapping, unprotected piv, heartbreak, themes of addiction, obsession. Reader has hair. Pics are for the mood only, reader has no physical description.

A/n: this is for @iamasaddie ‘s Kinky May challenge with a prompt daddy kink for Max Phillips. Thank you for hosting it, Aly😘 Thank you @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and holding my trembling hand♥️ it’s my first time writing Max and I’m very nervous. Hope you all will enjoy it!💖

dividers by @saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

You can’t get enough of him.

His fingers gripping your hair, his strong hips between your slicked up thighs, the burn his teeth leave behind, the pleasure his soft lips give you.

Yet most of all you can’t get enough of his voice.

It’s like the sweetest poison that seeps into your welcoming ear, tying you closer to him with every uttered sound. Making you addicted. Obsessed.

“You’re mine. All of you. Every drop, baby.”

“Yes, daddy,” you always agree with him. These are the rules of the game. You do what he says, he doesn’t leave you.

He gives you what you need. Purpose.

“You’re daddy’s hole. Nothing more. I’m here to fill you and feed on you. You don’t need anything else. Just daddy fucking his cum into you, load after load. While your blood satiates me. Drop after drop.”

“Yes, daddy…please, give it to me… want it…take it.”

You get so high on his voice telling you what to do, it’s euphoric. You’re always in a half trance. At work your mind is occupied by him; whenever you spend time with your family or friends, your thoughts are elsewhere. You don’t need them anymore. You are lost in him. In your mind you’re in bed, pressed by his heavy body. Limbs intervened, your sweaty skin flush against his as he’s claiming your body and soul.

It used to be easy. The first time you met at a club where Max tried to pick you up and succeeded. He was handsome, charming as hell, talkative, funny in an assholish way. Absolutely not your type, but you didn’t mind having fun. You two fucked in the bathroom and when he bit your neck and licked off the blood, you thought he was just kinky. The alcohol in your blood didn’t let you think straight. He made you come on his cock and you gave him your phone number.

Max came without a call, just appeared on your doorstep one night, and you let him in. You were cringing at your desire for some corporate suit, but he’d given it to you so good that night and you had never passed on a great fuck.

“I like you”, he said directly, lying on your sofa. He came right after work and told you that he was tired, at the same time exuding energy. You were staring at him, amused by his confidence. Max had an air about him like he owned the place and everything in it, including you.

“There’s something special about you,” he continued, pouting his lips in thought, “I don’t even need to command you. You’re so hungry. You do what I want all by yourself, baby.”

“Command me?”, you scuffed and snapped back, offended by his words, “Why don’t you go fuck yourself, baby”. Max was hot but a man would never be the boss of you, you thought.

He bucked his hips, getting more comfortable on your sofa, and shot you a smug smile that made you want to slap him. Before fucking him.

“Get on the sofa. All fours,” He told you, nodding at the spot next to him. His voice was the same, deep and gruff but somehow different. As if he grabbed your will and caged it in his big hand. Made it his will instead. And to your astonishment your body followed the order.

“Take off your clothes,” he said, sitting up, as your hands and knees were already planted firmly on the surface.

He got up and made you stand still while his hands were exploring your naked body — kneaded your breasts, twitched your nipples, glided over your back, slipped between your folds and swirled your throbbing clit. Your head was absolutely empty, your mind already occupied by only him.

“Beautiful,” he praised you, spreading your ass cheeks and admiring the view, “daddy’s gonna have so much fun with you.”

You bit your lip when he called himself that and then whimpered when he latched onto your pussy. He tasted your desire for him as his hot tongue slid between your folds and traced your crying hole. A whine escaped your parted lips when his mouth stopped caressing your cunt and he stood in front of you.

With widened eyes you watched him perch on the armrest of the sofa, spreading his thighs wide.

“You know what’s my favorite thing to do?” He asked, smirking at you.

You couldn’t say anything, so you were just blinking at him while a myriad of emotions were swirling inside your chest.

“Oh, you can’t answer, right. Baby though she’s in charge, huh?” Max chuckled and then leaned closer to you face, bringing his lips to your ear and whispered,

“Let’s see who’s in charge,” and added, “Come for daddy.”

You felt burning in your stomach, your core tightened, pussy started clamping around nothing, and you cried out as a hard orgasm began shaking your whole body, making your limbs tremble. He was palming himself, watching your face twist in pleasure, loud moans leaving your lips as the waves of ecstasy were lapping at your heated body. It was hard to stand still and his previous command was the only thing that kept you from collapsing on the sofa.

“Relax,” he told you and you plopped on the surface panting heavily, while aftershocks were still going through your body.

He stood up and you felt his thumb brush your cheekbone.

“Do you believe me now, sweetheart?” He asked with a head tilt, as his bulge was looming over your head.

You looked up at his smug face, smiled a little and replied,

“Yes, daddy. Please, do it again”.

Now when he’s in your bedroom, time stops. Life stops. As soon as he sits on the edge of your bed, you kneel between his thighs, your big eyes full of deep admiration, a short sheer nightie barely covering anything. He often buys you new lingerie. He enjoys spoiling you. Also blood is hard to wash off.

If he wants you to suck his cock, all he needs to do is nod at his crotch. But tonight he wants all of you.

“C’mere,” he tells you, patting his thigh with his big hand. In a second you’re sat on his lap, your naked pussy soaking his black suit pants.

“Nearly snapped someone’s neck at work today, incompetent idiot,” He grumbles in a low voice and asks, “How was your day, baby?”

You’re pouting your lips. Who cares? Fuck life. This is what you need. This is what makes you happy, ecstatic, euphoric.

“-was ok,” you mumble, as your stomach churns with impatience. Your gaze is set downcast while you’re fumbling with his crimson tie. He nuzzles your neck and takes a deep breath of your scent. A shudder goes through him from the way you smell and you slightly roll your hips, rubbing your needy pussy against his thigh.

“So impatient, baby. Do you remember how Daddy punished you for your impatience?” his cold palm wraps around your throat and tilts your head to the side, exposing more of your neck, where his favorite vein is fluttering like a little bird under his hungry gaze.

You won’t ever forget that punishment. You have been kneeling at the foot of your bed, watching him languidly play with his cock and balls. Your mouth was watering whenever a drop of precum slid down the curve of his fat tip. He has been edging you and himself for what felt like hours until he gave you the permission to suck his cock and you came just from having him in your mouth.

“Yes, I’m sorry, daddy. I’ll wait.”

“Good girl,” he says before his lips start sucking on your delicate skin, right over the artery. He licks the patch of skin there as his hand slithers under the neckline of your nightie and squeezes your breast.

“I’m gonna take a sip and you’re gonna be a good girl and play with Daddy’s cock, ‘k?

“Yes, please”.

You tilt your head even more, offering your blood to him as your left hand slides between your bodies. You find his belt buckle and undo it, stopping yourself from rushing. You don’t want daddy’s punishment tonight. You crave his reward.

You open his pants and moan as he breaks your skin with his fangs.

You got so used to the feeling, you don’t even notice the pain. The pain is like a threshold that you step over to get to the pleasure. A small price you pay each time for the immense ecstasy he’s going to give you.

As he starts gently sucking, you take out his cock which is already hard as steel and caress its velvety skin with your fingers. It twitches in your hand and Max growls.

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

You hastily spit in your palm and return your hand to his twitching length. You wrap your hand around it and begin pumping with a rhythm you know he loves.

You flutter your eyes shut, getting lost in the feeling, ready, so ready to give and get more.

You feel his precum on your hand, and without looking, you spread it over his soft skin.

Max’s lips smacking against your neck, his growling that sends pleasant vibrations through you, his tongue, gathering the blood off your skin, mixes with the squelching sounds of your hand, dancing over his cock. It’s throbbing, pulsating in your little hand and you press your body closer to his torso, wishing to feel his length against your belly.

“Daddy, may I have it, please?”

He groans and his lips leave your neck as he commands without using his powers, “lie down.”

You can’t follow the order quicker. You need him more than air. Your empty pussy is weeping to be filled, used, stretched by his manhood. Your whole being craves to serve his needs and after satiating his hunger for some time, your cunt is ready to be fed.

Your thighs fly apart and you look up at him with pleading eyes. Max is not cruel but he’s also quick to punish you if you piss him off.

His cock bobs when he gets between your thighs and a drop of precum lands on your mound. You already whine at the sensation.

“So obedient, you really want it tonight, huh?”

“I always want it… but yes, daddy, please,” you add hastily, batting your lashes at him.

“What do you want?”

As soon as he uses this voice, the atmosphere in the room changes. He was your ‘daddy’, now he’s your god. He asks and you reply without a moment of hesitation,

“I want not to feel anything but your cock deep in my cunt, not to think. Be so cockdrunk I can’t keep my eyes open.”

He smirks but there’s a trace of bitterness in his expression.

“I see.”

He sighs and grabs your thighs with his massive hands. He spreads your legs even wider, and when your pussy blooms for him he harshly spits on your throbbing clit, making you jerk and moan. The next second he lifts your hips up and pierces you with his cock. He’s either in a good mood which you doubt by his roughness or craves a release. With your ass lifted off the bed, you gasp suddenly feeling full as your walls are spreading for him. But you need more and he knows it.

“Do you feel me deep inside, baby?”

“Yeah, you’re so big, daddy.”

“Wanna feel more? “

“Yes, daddy, please. I’m begging you, I want nothing more.”

“ ‘k, baby. You’ve been such a good girl.”

Without a warning his voice changes and he starts ordering you.

“Listen to me, hear only my voice.”

The city noises from the outside are immediately gone. You hear nothing, not even ticking of a clock in your bedroom. Only his voice is in your ears as if he’s speaking right inside your mind.

“You feel nothing. Just. My. Cock. Deep inside your cunt. In your mind. In your veins. Everywhere.”

Your eyes roll back as you’re made to concentrate on his manhood in your trembling body.

“Your pussy is hugging me so well. Make her weep around my cock. Can never get enough of your juices soaking me, baby. You always feel so good. And you deserve to feel good too.”

“Yes, daddy, I do.”

You’re floating in a warm river, his voice, his being are enveloping you. Nothing exists anymore, just him and you are left. Then he rolls his hips and it gets almost unbearably overwhelming. His cock slowly slides in and out of your sopping pussy with ease and your brain, your core, your every cell light up brightly as you already feel yourself at the precipice.

He’s fucking you gently, then gets rougher and marks you with his teeth, drinking your blood. His cock is throbbing between your walls, his hands are sliding over your breasts, twitching your nipples and playing with your clit. His face flashes in front of your eyes and you’re kissing. That’s when you feel the explosion of pure, untainted ecstasy.

“Come harder”, he commands, and you know you’re crying at how amazing you feel. It’s all happening ‘there’, somewhere deep inside you, the place so wonderful you wish you’d never leave.

At the back of your mind you know that you’re getting obsessed. Sometimes you think there’s more of him in you than you. He’s behind your eyes constantly, his handsome face with a lopsided smile flashes there over and over. You could draw it by heart now. Day after day his teeth sink deeper into your neck, his cock pierces you harder and you welcome the pain. The high is so much better after a little bit of pain.

Max is careful with you. He knows his strength and knows the effect he has on you. He’s attentive. He sees your glazed over eyes, parted lips, your breathing almost stops. You’re not here with him, you’re nowhere. You start noticing fear in his eyes when it takes longer and longer to get you out of ‘there’.

Trickles of blood are seeping from two tiny holes in your neck. Your thighs thrown widely apart, his cum is glistening at your entrance as he watches you, sitting naked between your legs. His chin and mouth are red and he’s licking his lips, not wasting a drop of you.

“Baby, look at me.” Your eyes are staring up and to the left. You’re looking at something but don’t see anything.

“Look at me!”

He orders then calls for you, nothing, again and again, you don’t respond. He slaps your cheek, not hard, just to get you back but you refuse to return to him. In your mind you’re still coming on his cock, over and over, dripping, moaning, relishing the feeling of his cum filling you up to the brim. Why would you ever go back?

Suddenly it stings. He’s slapped you really hard and your cheek is burning.

“Daddy?” You murmur, gradually coming back to reality, blinking rapidly with tears in your eyes. He’s hovering over you, his hands gripping your shoulders, his black eyes under the furrowed brows look worried and sad. Then angry.

“I couldn’t get you back! Fucking hell! You were gone for a fucking hour. It’s never been that bad.”

“It wasn’t bad. ‘s good,” You mumble while your hand flies to rub your heated cheek. Your brain is still barely functioning and your whole body is tingling after such an amazing orgasm.

“I won’t do it anymore.” He throws at you, getting off you and sitting at the edge of the bed. “Fuck this!”

Your heart freezes, gripped by the fear, and you hastily sit up. You almost fall off the bed, drunk on the amount of endorphins in your blood and then slowly crawl to him.

“Daddy, don’t say it. I’ll get back alright.”

“Yeah, what if you don’t.”

‘It’s worth it,’ you think but don’t say it. Instead you lie to him. “I’m sure I’ll always get back. It just feels so good there.”

He’s shaking his head and your stomach churns with terror.

“You told me you’d killed people for fuck’s sake! Why do you care so much about me?!” You shout and he turns to you. His pained expression makes your chest hurt. Your heart is fluttering at how handsome he is, how much you love him but love quickly morphs into hate when he threatens to take away the best thing you’ve ever experienced. You beg again and again but he’s unyielding. Finally he gets tired of your whining and leaves.

Max visits you a couple of times after that. He fucks you but refuses to command you. He makes you come on his cock or tongue and every time you cry, beg and shout, demanding to tell you to stop feeling anything except him inside you. You unravel for him again and again but it’s just not enough. Not when you’ve been there, felt that much ecstasy.

“What if I turn you?” He offers at one point.

“Will you be able to tell me what to do?”

“No.”

“Then no”.

“But we can be together forever.”

“No, daddy, please, one more time.”

He curses and leaves and then he stops coming entirely. You text, call but he doesn’t respond. Your efforts to find him are fruitless. He’s never told you the details of his life. Or you just haven’t been listening. It’s like he has disappeared into thin air, like he was just a dream.

You cry and cry, not being able to sleep, eat, feel anything else except the void in your soul and life. Max has been filling it so well and now it’s sucking you in. Without that euphoria, without him controlling you, without your ‘daddy’, you have nothing. You wish for nothing else. Mindless hookups, rebound sex, numerous strangers in your bed— nothing can give you that satisfaction.

Max left and took your life with him.

Thank you for reading!♥️ Please, comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! It motivates me a lot!!🌸

Masterlist

Main tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @missannwinchester @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag

Max tag @guelyury

If you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know!💕

[msbigredmachine]

Warm (Jey Uso/OC)

An on-again, off-again couple takes the snowy ride to the next town together.

PAIRING: Jey Uso x OC

Word Count: 6.3k

Warning: The usual smut and everything in between.

A/N: First fic of the year! Enjoy!

Click here if you want to be on the tag list. If I’ve forgotten anyone please let me know so I can add you.

Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

--------------------------------

"Hey girl, got a sec?"

Looking up to see Nia standing right in front of her, Malia stood up straighter. The locker room was full of her friends and fellow wrestlers, all done for the evening and packing up to leave the arena. "What's up?"

"I totally forgot that I agreed to carpool with Maxxine after the show," she said as they exited the locker room together. "I'm really sorry, it totally slipped my mind."

"Oh, that sucks," Malia said, a little disappointed as Nia was great company. "It's no big deal. I'll figure something out."

"Are you sure? It's starting to snow out there. Will you be okay on your own?"

"Alone on the road with full control of the heating and my own playlist?" Malia laughed. "I'll be fine."

Nia nodded. "Okay. I feel bad, so I'll ask around and see if anyone needs a ride. That way you can split the bills and stuff," she offered, pausing when she looked over Malia's shoulder. "Oooh, look who's coming our way," she grinned.

Curious, Malia turned around, and her heart skipped a beat as Josh Fatu walked in their direction, his carry-on behind him and his phone in front of him. She plastered an unbothered expression on her face and turned back to Nia, but the Irresistible Force saw right through the facade.

"Girl, you're blushing already!" she cackled. "You and him still fucking?"

"No, I'm not blushing. And no, we're not fucking," Not lately anyway, Malia added to herself, fluffing her Afro as nonchalantly as possible.

"Liar. You two crack me up, you're totally in love with each other but keep acting like you're not. I did warn you about the whole friends-with-benefits thing."

She did. And Malia caught feelings and had been trying to run from those feelings since. But not with much success, given that she and Josh were both part of the Monday Night Raw roster and lived in the same goddamn city which gave him plenty of access to her. The problem was she was falling in love and he wasn't, so she tried to save face by imposing an extended 'break' from each other, under the guise of 'seeing other people'. Being alone with him on a long midnight drive wasn't going to help her cause to break away.

"It's a three-hour trip from here to Cleveland. Think you can hold off for that long if you go together?" Nia asked, a little too gleefully for Malia's taste.

"Stop with the slander. You make it sound like I'm this raging nympho," she rebuffed.

"When it comes to him? Yes! I've witnessed it! You jump each other's bones every chance you get. How you guys aren't official, I'll never understand. He's getting closerrrr," Nia sang, clearly enjoying the way Malia was trying not to squirm. "Let me go talk to him."

Malia started to panic as Nia moved towards him. "Where are you going?" she warned, "Nia, no!"

"Um, you want a ride or not? Hey, Joshyyyy!"

"Savelina!" Malia hissed, falling silent when Josh looked up from his phone, his gaze lingering on her for a long, tense beat before moving to Nia. "Sup ladies," he said, tipping his bearded chin up in greeting. His jaw moved repeatedly, and she saw he was chewing gum when he opened his mouth to speak. Juicy Fruit, she predicted. His favorite.

"I heard you're driving by yourself tonight," Nia said to him.

His eyebrows rose skeptically. "Yeah..."

"You want a passenger? Cuz my girl over here needs someone to ride with, in more ways than one..."

"Lina, shut up," Malia cut in, stepping in front of her and meeting Josh head-on. "Forgive our friend, Becky hit her in the head too many times tonight," she explained, her insides warming when Jey laughed. "I was supposed to carpool with bitch over here but she made other plans and left me stranded. So umm...if you're going alone, would you mind if I tagged along?" Why the fuck did she sound like she was asking him to Prom?

Again, the air around them simmered with an unknown element. When he took longer than usual to respond, her heart sank a little. "It's cool if you don't want to, I can find someone else-"

"Nah, it's all good, uce, you can come along," he spoke up with a smile. "But I'm 'bout to leave right now, so if you ready-"

"I am," Malia answered, a bit too quickly, and flushed with embarrassment when the corner of his mouth curled upward in a bemused smile. It was then she realized that Nia had disappeared, leaving the two standing alone in the empty hallway.

"Uhh...We should get going," Malia spoke up, scratching awkwardly at the nape of her curly Afro.

Josh nodded, pausing as his eyes scanned her up and down again. "This what you wearin'?" he inquired.

She made a quick, albeit thorough twirl to show off her outfit, a short, figure-hugging beige dress accompanied by a black pair of furry knee-high Uggs. "Yeah, why? What's wrong with it?"

"It's a lil' chilly, no? I mean, don't get me wrong, you look real good, it's just-" Catching himself, he trailed off nervously before he could say anything else inappropriate.

"My jacket is right here, I'll be fine. But if I do get too cold, I'm sure you can keep me warm." Her smile was syrupy sweet as she let the innuendo sink in. The awkwardness was melting away, leaving only the sexual synergy they were both accustomed to.

Josh chuckled to himself and stepped closer to her. "A'ight, I see what'chu tryna do," he said in a lower, huskier timbre that made her loins flutter. "Let's get outta here before I do sum'n we'll both like."

She wanted to ask what was stopping him but instead took the hand he held out to her. It was big and protective and the gentle way he rubbed his thumb over hers always made her feel safe. Together they left the building and into the indoor parking lot. He helped her put her things in the trunk of his Ford Expedition rental, and she fought the urge to stare at his ass when he bent over.

As they began their journey, her gaze landed on her on-again, off-again 'boyfriend', his own fixed on the road ahead. Wearing a fitting dual-colored Nike tracksuit, he looked yummy himself. The hand that had held hers was now on the steering wheel, and she found herself wishing it was touching her again but on a more risqué part of her body this time. They were on a 'break' but she envisioned a lot of difficulty keeping things platonic tonight.

"Since when do you listen to Bon Jovi?" She broke the ice several minutes later, talking over the eighties rock ballad that was playing on the radio and was surprised it hadn't been turned off. "You always used to tell me to change that shit," she laughed.

"They not so bad, they got some good workout songs," he defended with a shrug. "How come you didn't take a flight tonight?" he asked.

She gave a shrug of her own. "I don't know. I probably should have. But with the weather and everything, there'd probably be tons of delays at the airport. I would have ended up sitting there all night. How about you?"

"Same. I prefer the open road anyway," he replied. "Drive fast, blast some good music, you know what it is." He shot her a grin, making selections on the GPS. "Everything good? You comfortable?"

Smoothing her dress down her crossed legs, she nodded and tilted her seat back. "Yeah, I'm good," she responded.

"So how was Christmas? Whatchu do? Spend time with your man?" Josh asked.

Malia snorted and flipped her hair. "Ain't no man. He's an insecure bum so he's gone. I stayed with my brother and his family for a few days, played with my nieces, they're so big now."

He wanted to feel bad about the way his heart leapt for joy about her relationship status. "I told you he was a bum from the jump, uce," he mumbled.

"Well, you were right. Congrats," she bit sarcastically.

"I ain't wanna be right though. I just want you to be happy," said Josh, exchanging a glance with her, his stare filled with its familiar warmth that was charged with something else.

Being here is a bad idea.

"What about you? You were with your boys and their mom, I'm guessing," she kept the conversation going.

"More of the boys, less of their mom," he clarified.

"That's it? No woman to warm your bed?"

He snorted and shot her a bombastic side-eye. "If I remember clearly, you sent the last woman I was with packin', with your razor-sharp ass tongue."

Malia burst out laughing. "Ha, that bitch? She's a clout-chasing airhead. One conversation with her and my IQ got fucked up. Stop messin' with those NXT bimbos, Joshua. It's not a good look."

"Why you so pressed though?" He had an idea, but he wanted to hear it straight from the horse's mouth.

"I'm not pressed. You smarter than that. She wasn't good for you."

"And you know this, how?"

Because she ain't me. None of them are. "I just know," was all she said.

"Huh. We seem to 'know' a lot about each other," Josh noted, "So why don't you want us to stay together?" he asked.

And there it is. "You already know the answer," she responded, with a hint of attitude.

"No I don't, so how 'bout you fill me in, huh," he retorted. They had stopped at a red light so he now had all the time to look her in the eye.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, she refused to get suckered in. "Because. Your roster is deep enough as it is," she mumbled.

"What roster?"

Malia huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, we gonna play dumb now? I'm not the only woman you're fucking, Joshua."

"The last person I had sex with was you, right before you dumped me for ol' boy," Josh replied, annoyance creeping into his tone.

"Correction. I did not dump you. Dumping implies that we were dating," Malia argued. "I distinctly remember you saying you weren't looking for nothin' serious, so it ain't dumping if there's no relationship to dump."

The silence that followed was deafening, even with the music playing. The temperature in the car plummeted several degrees. Josh simply shook his head. "Damn, that how you feel all this time? Okay then." he tsked, releasing the brakes as the light turned green. "A'ight. Note taken."

The hurt swirling in his voice surprised her. Rattled, she opened her mouth to speak, but wisely decided to close it back. Because there really was nothing to say. This was the consequence of getting involved with someone without setting clear boundaries; the result of repeatedly holding off the simple task of defining a relationship — nothing but uncertainty and heartache. It was the bed she made long ago and now she had to lie in it.

But oddly enough, that seemed to be the appeal of entanglements; the thrill, the warped sense of freedom to do whatever you wanted to each other with no strings. But intimacy always had its attachments, and Malia had been attached to Josh for a long, long time with no idea how to cut the strings without getting hurt.

"The snow seems to be getting worse," she changed the subject and with good reason. They seemed to be driving into a storm. The snowfall was heavier and the nearly empty highway was turning white. "Are you sure we'll make it into Cleveland like this?"

Her question was answered only a few seconds later, by the flashing lights and flares up ahead. A car wreck, and a bad one judging from the amount of fire, rescue, and police crews on the scene. As Josh slowed the car to a crawl, they were greeted by a gruesome tableau.

The many bright, flashing lights cast a grotesque glow on the crumpled remains of an SUV. A black bag, zipped and strapped to a stretcher, was being loaded into the back of an ambulance. Malia's eyes widened with horror. The mangled car was the same type as theirs, and the driver's seat was covered in blood, a lot of it splattered on the white snow. "Oh no...Babe..." she breathed.

Her voice was tiny. Scared. Josh grabbed her hand and squeezed it repeatedly to get her attention. "Ay, don't look. Look at me," he cajoled, waiting for her to do so, running his thumb over hers to quell her panic. "I'll take the next exit. Let's find somewhere to crash until morning." He cringed. "Bad choice of words. Sorry."

"You don't mind stopping?" she asked, feeling a little sick. There was no way she was going any further with what she'd just witnessed.

"Personally, I'd rather be late gettin' where I'm going than never gettin' there at all."

"I agree. I'll check if there's any available hotels nearby," she offered, reaching for her phone in the console.

"You good?" he checked on her again, his fingers flexing around hers.

"I'm okay. It's just...that was horrible," Malia shuddered. "But you calmed me down. You've always been good at that." She smiled gratefully at him.

"Mm-hmm," he mumbled, as he lifted the back of her hand to his lips in a gentle kiss. He then rested his hand on her bare leg, running it up her smooth chocolate skin. Ironically, her dress gave him perfect access to the sensitivity of her inner thigh, and he allowed his fingers to dance over it.

Malia cast her eyes down to watch his hand disappear under her dress. This was what she liked about him so much; his boldness, his sense of adventure. Only he could dare to touch on her while driving on a dark, sleety highway. "Boy, what are you doin'?" she asked as he squeezed her thigh. She tried to play it cool, tried to act like her skin had not been set ablaze by his touch.

"Keepin' you warm," he affirmed nonchalantly, as he slid his palm over her lace panties, his favorite on her, enjoying the feel of her moist warmth against the fabric. He had since learned that he couldn't stay mad at her for long. "I miss you," he whispered, breaching her underwear with one finger.

"I miss you too," she admitted, jerking as the finger slipped inside of her. "Oh, shit," she gasped, tilting her head back against the leather headrest.

"Phew, you wet as fuck," Josh whistled, eyeing up his ex with a Cheshire Cat-like grin. "Ol' boy wasn't fuckin' you like he should?"

Before she could answer, he slid another digit into her wetness, drawing another moan from her. She moved her legs further apart, causing her dress to ride higher up, and grabbed his wrist with both hands. "Fuck, yeah," she sighed, going slack in her seat.

Maybe it wasn't the brightest idea, Josh realized, as the sound of her wanton moans filled the car. As her pussy tightened around his fingers. He wasn't doing much for his own erect state by doing this, but the look on her face convinced him to keep going. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, keeping his eyes on the road. "How's that feel, hmm?" he asked.

The only response she could muster was another breathy moan while strengthening her grip on his wrist. She didn't want to come just yet, but between his fingers twisting deep inside her tightening core and the added heat rushing through her, she knew she wouldn't last long. She wanted this to last forever, just like every time she was with him; she clung desperately to every second, because each one was always better than the last. He just hit different. He always did.

The spell broke when she heard him curse and he abruptly stopped, slipping his fingers out of her. "The fuck?" she whined.

"Sorry, I had to," Josh explained, pointing. The smoky haze of passion and frustration cleared quickly enough for her to realize they had left the expressway and were now pulling into the parking lot of a hotel. Crossing her arms petulantly, she sat up straighter and pouted. "Goddamn tease. You ain't slick," she grumbled.

"Nope. But you are," he emphasized, holding up his fingers covered in her essence and bringing them to his mouth. "Mmm, sweet and spicy, like always."

His dirty snicker had her pussy clenching again. This man was going to be the death of her.

Parking the Expedition in front of the hotel door, they rushed in with their bags to the check-in desk and found the exhausted-looking receptionist behind the counter. It was clear they'd had a massive influx of people and that she was the only one handling everything.

"You're just in luck. We have one room left," the lady replied when Josh asked her if they had any vacancies. "It's probably our smallest room and only has one queen-sized bed, but it's perfect for a lovely couple like yourselves," she smiled warmly.

"We'll take it," Josh responded, handing over his credit card before Malia could reject it. Given the state of the weather outside and that horrendous crash they came across, it was likely the best, safest option.

They got the keycards and made a quick stop at the nearby Chipotle to get some food. Josh paid again, boxing Malia against the counter with his big frame and frowning menacingly at the cashier who had the nerve to flirt with her. Though there technically was no territory to mark, she didn't mind. Besides, it was cold outside and his body heat was inviting and much needed. Afterwards, they returned to the hotel and made it into the small room that was warm, toasty, and quite clean, making them feel a bit better that they wouldn't be stuck in some Bates Motel-type murder house.

"Last time we were stuck in a room together, we spent all afternoon working out how many pinning combinations we could make each other come in," Malia reminisced as she bit into her burrito.

"Yeah. I remember winning," Josh grinned proudly. "You can have the bed, by the way," he gestured to her. "Imma sleep on the couch, give you some space."

"Why?" Malia gave him a stern look. "The bed is big enough for both of us. Plus, your back will be fucked up if you sleep on that lil ass couch."

She wasn't wrong; the couch felt rather firm and it wouldn't be pleasant. Josh was trying to be a gentleman, but he ultimately agreed since driving tomorrow with a backache did not sound ideal.

After finishing their meals, they settled in, and Malia texted the Talent Relations rep to inform them of her and Josh's whereabouts. Unfortunately, the weather forecast on TV was pretty grim as they were expecting upwards of forty inches of snow. Getting to their destination in time tomorrow would be a tough ask.

Josh used the bathroom first to give Malia some privacy. When he re-emerged, she was stripped down to a short white bathrobe that did nothing to hide that body of hers, giving him a little peek of her voluptuous behind as she picked up her toilet bag.

Fuck.

"Babe, do you got a spare shirt I can sleep in?" She stood back upright, her throat drying up at the sight of his towel hanging low on his hips. She watched the rivulets of water drip down his tattooed chest and felt parched.

Josh swallowed. "Sure, I got somethin'." He crossed the room, reached inside his open luggage and pulled out a 'YEET' hoodie. "This okay?"

He gazed into her eyes, and Malia felt her knees quiver, almost like they were threatening to collapse beneath her. "Yeah, thanks," she smiled, taking the hoodie.

"You called me babe again." There was a small, teasing smile on his face.

Malia felt her face burn. "Oh, um...Yeah. Habit. Sorry..." Lost for words, she quickly departed, silently willing her limbs to not give out on her.

Waiting until the door had closed behind her, Josh sank down on the bed and tried to focus on the TV. He could hear her moving around. Brushing her teeth. Undressing. Rubbing his face, he groaned when he heard the shower start. After their argument in the car and what he did afterwards, his emotions were all over the place, and now they had to share this bed. Keeping his hands to himself was going to be a tough ask.

Keep your hands to yourself, Malia repeated to herself over and over as she finished up her skincare routine. It's just one night. Behave yourself. What happened in the car meant nothing.

Yes it did, the voice she fondly named 'Delulu', debated, He misses you, he said so himself. That's why he acted the way he did in the car. That's why he almost bit that cashier's head off in Chipotle.

She had a point. She recalled the full-blown lust in his eyes as he touched her, the eager movement of his fingers inside her as though he couldn't stop himself. Overall, it felt good to know he wasn't quite over her just as she wasn't quite over him.

Don't do it, her other voice, dubbed 'You Right' because it always was, warned. You're just his plaything, always have been. Why do you want to play house with a guy who doesn't love you like you love him? He just misses the pussy. That's it.

Good point.

But I miss the dick too! 'Delulu' pouted.

'You Right' rolled her eyes. Too bad. Take another shower, a cold one this time.

With a heavy sigh, Malia wrapped up her hair and put on her pajamas for the night. The hoodie was big on her, reaching her thighs. She decided against panties, having made up her mind about the voice she was going to listen to.

She returned to the warmth of the bedroom, instantly landing on the ruggedly handsome man stretched out on the left side of the bed. His favorite side. His gaze flickered from the TV to her, his lips twitching into a small smile.

"You make my merch look so sexy, baby," he commented.

"Why thank you Daddy," she replied, then froze, her eyes wide. Shit, did she just say that out loud? Judging from the heated look in his eyes, the answer was yes. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife as they regarded each other.

Sitting up straight in the bed, Josh clapped his hands. "A'ight, enough of this. Come here," he growled.

She thought he would never ask. She hurried to the bed and crawled towards him. He sat up straighter and reached for her, their lips crashing together before he had finished pulling her onto his lap. All the weeks of pent-up urges and desires came pouring out of them both as they kissed like the desperate, needy souls they had become. They only pulled back long enough to take off his t-shirt before they embraced again. His bronzed skin was warm underneath her palms, the touch of his hands seemingly burning through the hoodie onto her own.

Without breaking the kiss, Josh shifted so that they were lying on their sides, helping her tug his sweatpants down his hips. Once they were gone, he pulled her tightly against him as he slid his leg between hers, draping her top leg over his waist. He then pushed his hands under her hoodie, his fingers digging into her waist to grind her against his thigh. Malia smiled at his surprised gasp, his realization that she was wearing his merch and only that. She knew he could feel the moistness of her core, smearing his upper thigh as their kisses got even more heated. She let him pull off the hoodie, and Josh's eyes blazed with need as he gathered her right breast in his hand and devoured it with sucks and licks. Meanwhile her hand wrapped around his dick, stroking for a few moments before easing him inside her.

"Oh, shit," Josh froze, his expression slightly panicked, "I ain't got-"

"Calm down, I still got my IUD. You good." She kissed his lips and reared back a little, letting him push fully inside her, and he ripped his mouth from hers in a low groan and tucked his face in her neck.

"Fuck, Malia..."

She moaned with him, gripping his muscular shoulders as he moved inside her, and groaned again when his hand scraped down her back to squeeze her ass cheek tightly.

"Mmmph..."

"Yeah, I know you like that," he whispered, slapping her ass this time, his breath hot and heavy against her face. "Say my name baby, call out for me."

"Joshua...Daddy..."

"Mm-hmm, I love it. God, you're fuckin' beautiful," he said, his voice rough with need as he tongue-kissed her slowly, matching his grinding thrusts, sending chills running all over her body.

"Ohhh," she gasped, tensing in his arms, bewildered by her desire for him.

"Relax. I gotchu," he promised with another hungry, borderline sloppy kiss. He was nearing the pit of her stomach with his lengthening strokes, but he wanted more. He held up her thick thigh, automatically sliding him even deeper inside her. A big smile lit up his face as her mouth fell open; he knew she could feel all of it, the head of his dick toying with her g-spot, her breathing quickening as her slick moisture made its presence known with every push of his dick into her.

"Hear that?" Josh whispered, "Hear how wet you are?"

Malia dug her nails into his skin, staccato breaths pulling from her lungs as he rammed up into her again and again. "Shit," she whined, "Aw fuck, please don't stop," she begged, tears gathering in her eyes at the thought of him ceasing his actions.

"I ain't stoppin' baby." He couldn't seem to stop kissing her, doing it again as he increased his speed, his dick all up in her wet pussy. The sensations were dizzying, taking her to another dimension. "Uuuunh," she cried out with a shudder, the flutter of her pussy around his cock sending shockwaves of pleasure through her.

"You wanna come, babe? Wanna come for Daddy huh?" He pressed his forehead against hers, his hypnotic eyes holding her gaze as her whimpers for him grew louder. "Come, Malia," he urged with gritted teeth, his heart pounding from the emotions vibrating through him. "Come, baby girl. Nut on Daddy's dick. You look so beautiful when you come."

Malia heard what sounded like waves crashing in her ears. Immediately her body seized up, and her voice was a high-pitched cry as the pleasure ripped through her. Moaning his name repeatedly, her head fell back and she saw stars as the bliss took over.

Man, she missed being touched like this, kissed like this...fucked like this.

Still trembling, she was vaguely aware of him pulling out, letting her leg down and rolling on top of her. Stroking her face, he stared at her with a mix of wonder and tenderness and something else she couldn't quite determine in his eyes.

"What?" she pressed.

Josh licked his lips, looked away for a second and then back at her.

"I love you."

She expected to be shocked, stunned by his declaration. Instead, it felt more like a eureka moment, like she had finally cracked a passcode she had been struggling with for eons, like the world had at last righted itself after an eternity of confusion.

"What took you so long?" she asked, emotion seeping through her tone.

"I don't know," he confessed, and when her brows furrowed, he elaborated. "I just know I can't do this no more. I'm fuckin' tired. I been feelin' this way for too long. You the only one that makes me feel like this."

"Like how?" she breathed. She wanted to hear it, wanted to know if his agony has been anything similar to hers for the past couple of months.

"Like I'm empty inside when I'm not with you. Even when I'm with someone else, I feel like I'm cheating on you," he went on, suddenly feeling free, unburdened. "I can't stop thinking about you, can't function...I don't just want sex, Malia. That's all good but I wanna be your man. For real this time. I want you."

There it was again, that intensity in his eyes that never failed to steal what was left of her breath. If this was a dream, she did not want to wake up. "I love you too. I wanna be with you. Let's not break up ever again. I don't like not being around you," she admitted.

"Same here," he said, covering her mouth with his. This kiss was so passionate, so deep and all-consuming, that she struggled to hang on to her sanity. She groaned against his mouth as he found his way back inside her with a couple of swift, seamless strokes. Her wetness instantly enveloped him again, prompting his hips to roll seemingly on their own accord. Malia wound her arms around him, holding him as close to her as possible. There was no more talk after that, letting their bodies do the talking, writhing together as if they were meant to exist that way.

"Wrap your legs around me, baby," he told her.

Immediately, she wound them around his waist with her ankles locked tight behind his lower back as he rocked into her. She moved with him, matching his tempo in a sweet symphony. There was no space between their flesh; and whatever tiny space remained was closed off with delicious, decadent kisses with lots of tongue. They savored every second in each other, every gasp and moan they elicited from the other. Her wetness compromised the friction between them as his dick slipped in and out of her with ease that still kept her walls snug and taut around him.

"God, you feel so good, baby," she moaned in his ear, weaving her fingers through his soft hair, anchoring him to her as though fearful that he would slip away at any given moment.

"I can feel you dripping all over my dick. You make me wanna pound this good pussy," he mumbled against her neck, his tongue swiping over her heated skin.

"Then pound it," she murmured, spearing him with a hot, hungry look when their eyes met. "Pound my pussy, Daddy, I need it," she practically begged, her voice a pleading whine.

"Bet." Caressing her thighs for a few seconds, he then propped her legs on each of his broad shoulders. Her gaze met the ceiling, clouded over with lust as he hunched over her, working his big dick in her. All she could see within the bluish hue of the small room was his larger, muscular body looming over her, like a glowing, almost nightclub-like dreamscape. His chest tattoos were a beautiful mural that she couldn't stop herself from worshiping, and she leaned up to drag her tongue along his nipple, flicking the hard bud playfully as she caressed his triceps. She was rewarded with harder snaps of his hips, his balls mashing against her ass from how deep he was digging. Every time she tried to look at it, she would grow weak from the sensitivity and fall back against the bed.

"Fuck, Joshua..."

"Mmhmm, I know it feel good. Your tight little pussy is creaming for me," he rasped. Holding her down to the bed, he circled his hips while buried in her for good measure, making her pussy greedily grip the entirety of his girthy length and wringing moans of pleasure from both of them. Dipping her hand down between her thighs, she rubbed on her clit only for her eyes to roll back as an intense fire lit inside her like a firework. Then, clearly intending to destory her, he sat back on his knees and wrapped his arms around her thighs, holding them to his chest as he thrust faster and harder.

"Oh my god," Malia sighed, planting one hand up against the headboard to steady herself. She could feel her breasts bouncing recklessly with each stroke, felt his long fingers grab one and massage it in his hands, then the other, arousing her even more. His dick pulsed inside her as she tightened around him with increasing frequency. She willingly let him take her as he wanted, because she wanted to feel all of him, savor the sight of him breaking down and plunging headfirst into that secret place of pleasure that belonged to them and them alone.

The tricky part was Josh wanted to take her there first. He switched up again by pinning her knees into the pillow on either side of her head, opening her wide. He fucked her like a man possessed, the force of his movements knocking the bed hard and repeatedly against the wall. His hard, pounding thrusts had her pushing her face into the pillow and screaming into it. They hoped the room was soundproof. Either way, he didn't stop, not until the coil inside her body unraveled, and Malia screamed again as she came, hard and hot, her orgasm flushing through her like a tidal wave. It was the sweetest, the realest, the product of the joining of not just their bodies, but something deeper, too.

Josh must have been thinking the same thing, because when he stopped to stare her down again with those beautiful eyes of his, they glittered with warmth and affection. They gazed at each other, the stunned joy of their shared feelings morphing into something richer, something fiercer. He really did love her, she could see it right there on his face. She didn't quite know how she managed to miss it before.

The air between them thickened as they remembered they were still naked and entwined. Reverting back to their primal, passionate state, Josh moved again, thrusting all up in her dripping tightness. Malia gripped his hips to pull him deeper, her fingers digging into the flesh of his ass as he pounded into her with newfound ruthlessness. The mattress squeaked underneath them, mixing with their moans and whimpers and the wet slapping sounds of their bodies. He was close; his strokes became increasingly erratic, his grunts heavier and more vocal, his cock pulsing inside her pussy and his balls tightening.

"Fuuuck, I'm comin' baby, come catch this nut," he pulled out of her and quickly straddled her torso, stroking his dick in her face. Malia opened her mouth wide and poked out her tongue, watching his gorgeous face twist in painful pleasure as he unloaded in her mouth, thick spurts of his salty sweet cum flooding her tongue. Completely turned on, she rubbed herself with one hand and grabbed his dick with the other, stroking him harder to milk him to the last drop. His deep, throaty groan broke her all over again, plummeting her into another incredible orgasm, brought on by the sheer power of his.

Josh's chest heaved as he watched her slap his dick on her open tongue, coated white with his release. He then ordered in a husky voice, "Swallow it."

Malia obeyed heartily, slipping his cum down her throat then gently sucked him off for a couple of seconds, moaning softly from the unique taste of him mixed with her. Josh fought off the urge to nudge his dick deeper into her mouth and pulled away to lie down next to her. The realization of what had just happened must have hit both of them at the same time, because with one glance at each other, they burst out laughing.

"Damn," was all she had the energy to utter, allowing him to pull her against him as their joint laughter rumbled between them. He fucked the shit out of her. She felt like a brand new woman, even now, as he ran his hands all over her body, gifting her with a breathless kiss to her succulent lips. "I guess Lina's plan worked," she giggled, snuggling against him.

"Yeah," Josh agreed, his features suddenly serious as he carefully tucked a loose piece of her hair back underneath her scarf. "I ain't like how you be pushin' me away, Malia," he grumbled, "Don't be scared of us and what we got."

Not for the first time, she wished she'd been brave enough to express her true feelings. "It's not you I'm scared of... I'm scared of us falling apart if we become serious, and I don't wanna live without you," she confessed.

Josh chuckled and pressed his mouth to each of her palms. "You already can't," he smirked.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and smacked his arm. "You don't gotta agree."

"It's the truth though. But like I said, I love you and I'm not going anywhere. I mean that," he promised.

Hearing those three words from him again made her feel all giddy inside. "I love you, too," she whispered, smiling softly against his lips when he dropped a tender kiss to hers.

"How long's it been since we last fucked?" he inquired.

Two months and three weeks, but who was counting? "Couple of months," she answered, keeping it cool.

"Shame on us. I think we can make up for it, right?"

Malia raised an eyebrow when he started to crawl down her body, sprinkling butterfly kisses down her belly until his head was between her legs. Her body flushed with need. "You know we need to go to bed, right?" she questioned, her fingers sneaking into his hair despite her half-hearted protest.

"I know. But this pretty pussy is callin' my name." He winked at her and bit gently on her inner thigh, dangerously close to her throbbing treasure, soothing the skin with a wet lick. Her keening moan was all he needed to hear. "Now lay your sexy ass back and let Daddy eat."

And with that, he bent his head and spread his mouth over her, wiping every rational thought she owned with mind blowing pleasure.

THE END

-----------------

So...did you like it?

Please leave feedback/comments. I appreciate them as they help me improve my writing.

Thank you all so much for reading!

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[oozedninjas]

What do you think of possessive turtles with their s/o? What do you think they'de be like? Other than marking their s/o that is

Ninja turtles + possessiveness

Ah, the smell of toxic relationships!

18+ I Ninja guys are mind to late twenties I kind of dark!turtles, kind of what I think the toxic aspects of dating them would actually be like. I MDNI I General verses

Leo

This bitch is too cocky to even think you can cheat on him, or fall for someone else. Yet!! He's still a mutant turtle, what if you hang out too much with someone who changes your mind?

You haven't answered in half an hour? Calls you.

Oh, you don't answer? haha, funny

* proceeds to spam*

via text, via calls, via social media

He just has this controlling habit of wanting to know where you are, with whom, and what you're doing.

You hate it, but when you confront him about it, he's always like

:( What do you mean? I'm just worried!

The foot clan's out there, you know?

Passive aggressive, honestly

It's not that he's being possessive! he just wants to make sure you're safe. *coughs * gaslighting * coughs*

He's sore when it doesn't work.

Donatello

Yeah, I don't how to tell you this but, your phone is tapped.

Just as you are about to leave to hang out with your friends, he makes the century's discoverment. It's happening again — "Please stay; it's important!"

Just five more minutes! *263536 hours later he still isn't done showing you *

Tracks your phone (in case of an emergency, of course)

Scoffs at you when you point out he's being possessive

Raphael

Behold, the "I can take you there" man.

Do you need to go to the store? He drives you! Get on the motorbike, enjoy the city lights ;)

You're hanging out with your friends? Don't worry; he'll give you a lift! No? Why not? Hmm, are you really hanging out with your friends?

Well, if he can't take you there, he can pick you up. How's that? :D Really so annoying.

Oh, you're clubbing? Guess what?! He's patrolling just in that same area. Isn't that great? Now he can wait for you to finish and walk you home!

Stalks your Instagram stories knowing he'll probably get angry, and then confronts you about the most random screenshots. Why are you touching this friend on the shoulder in this pic?! >:(

Seriously nerve-wracking.

Mikey

Listen, listen, we gotta give Mikey all the coins!! All the points because he's so subtle you don't even notice he's being possessive until one day you're reflecting and * loud gasp * revelation.

He gives you a bracelet just like his own so you can wear it as a couple! In addition to many other things that are sometimes bought and sometimes handmade, the point is that they are all orange.

And you will say, how is that possessive?

BECAUSE, because, your friends ask, is orange your favorite color? And while it may be yes, it is an opportunity to mention that the color reminds you of your boyfriend.

In short, he gives you or does things that will force you to bring him into conversation with other people.

He is the first to comment on all your photos on social media, "How beautiful my angel!" which is a problem bc now your friends want to meet him * sweats * how the hell are you gonna explain? And what if someone in your group reveals the secret? * anxiety intensifies *

Everyone in your life knows that you have a boyfriend, which is not bad, but sometimes, Instead of his actions feeling genuine, it's more like he just wants everyone to know that you are taken.

[oftenderweapons]

In Your Calvin's | JJK

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 9.6k

Genre: smut, fluff, pwp, established relationship

Rating: 18+ Minors, do not interact

Synopsis: Being Jeon Jeongguk's girlfriend is a great honour, but it comes with great responsibilities. When the commercial celebrating your boyfriend (very secret boyfriend) starts playing on everyone's and their mother's phones, it's time you face what it means to be loved by the most wanted idol of them all.

Warnings: Jealousy and general possessiveness. Swearing. Powerplay, switch!reader, switch!jk. Masochist!jk (?). Marking (hickey, writing on body with a pen), hair pulling (male receiving), edging (male receiving), spanking (male and female receiving). Teasing. Mild degradation. Dry humping. A very mild boobjob. Breast worship. Unprotected foreplay, oral sex (female receiving; brief male receiving), unprotected sex (be smarter, kids), rough sex. Mentions of cockring.

One last thing: 1. this was edited at 3am, please bear with me. 2. Sidenote: I try to be as neutral as possible with the way I describe the girls' appearance, however I wanted to specify that in this fic, I mention Candy having long, straight hair (and huge badonkers, but that's kinda canon by now LOL). It's just a brief mention, absolutely nothing major and holds no relevance to the fic, you might not even notice it; but still, I wanted to make sure I thought about my curly haired goddesses, and short haired queens, (or a combo of both heart eyes) and that I apologise for making this fic just a pinch less immersive for you. (Is this the right moment to apologise to small boobs princesses too? ily sisters, itty bitty titty committee 5evah)

Here's my masterlist, lemme just disappear very quickly. Enjoy 💜✨

You knew Jeongguk had a gig with Calvin Klein. You've known it for months. You've seen him cut calories and hit the gym and dehydrate for a couple days before the shoot because he explained to you how muscle definition works, and crucial to showing a great slab of abs is being basically as dry as a breadstick, to the point of being cranky because you have drunk three glasses of water in the last forty-eight hours. 

Which all means, you knew his stomach would be quite surely showing.

And yet your world still stops once you're merrily sitting on your train back home and his half undressed form appears on the screen on your phone. 

At first you slam your phone shut, mostly because you're used to hiding your boyfriend away and that's the reaction you usually have when you open one of his flirty pics from your chat. 

Next, you realise you weren't on your private chat, and you weren't even looking at pictures in your phone gallery. 

You were absentmindedly scrolling. On Instagram. 

You unlock your phone again, and right there you're confronted with the very naked truth. 

Jeongguk. Is basically naked. On your phone. And it's for the entire world to see. 

Your brain slows down, as if the earth axis is tipping over a little in the opposite way. 

Something inside you snaps around the third time the video plays in front of your unseeing eyes. To anyone looking at you, you could be just an obsessed fan taking a close look at the fine piece of art, but your eyes are unfocused, your mind too deep in thought to register any stimulus from the external world. 

The vibration from the phone awakens you from your state of trance. 

“Candy, baby,” says the adorable lover boy calling you. “Have you seen it already?”

Your lips are sealed, and you can't quite bring yourself to speak, you don't know why. 

“I'm on my way back home.” You say, and the words feel like cracking a glow stick in your chest. 

“But did you see it?” His voice isn't as bright now. 

“I'm coming home.” You repeat. 

He's silent for a few seconds, and you can hear him sigh. “Okay.” 

“He's so insanely hot,” you overhear a girl sitting across from you comment. 

“I want to run my palms down the sides of his waist,” says her friend. 

You stare at them and you know you must look like a woman possessed right now, but you still allow yourself to incinerate them with a glare, as if your eyes could turn into flamethrowers. 

“Candy?” 

“I'll be home in ten.” And you close the call. 

On the way back home, you hear more people talk. More girls fawn. More women zoom in. 

On the escalator, you notice a woman fanning herself while staring at the screen. Another one even crosses herself as the ad from your boyfriend reruns on her phone screen. 

Every step on your way home is utter agony, and once you step over the threshold, you're not sure what you're going to do.

Jeongguk is in the kitchen in a sleeveless top, tattoos out, piercings glowing in the gentle light of the living room. And his hair is fluffy, which means he's probably just done blow drying it after taking a shower. 

The fact that the scent of his body lotion is still sharp gives you further indication of how recent that shower must be. 

“Hey,” he says, turning towards you with a bunny grin, which immediately dims once he sees your expression. “Oh. Bad day?” 

You bite your lip and stare at him a fair bit. Then, a bit more. 

“Candy, love.” 

You don't know what to do with him. Is he yours? Is he really yours? 

How come you come home to him making dinner, and being freshly showered, and being so domestic? How come you're living in his apartment, knowing his pass code, having an ID card for his apartment complex and his studio at HYBE? How come he gives you a copy of his schedule and talks about you over the phone on his weekly call to his grandmother and brings you to his parents' house? How come you go on trips together and you're the emergency contact to his fur babies and you make love two to four times a week? How come he's brought you to the town he grew up in and loved you down in the place where he lost his virginity because, "I wish it had been you since the very first time"? 

Who is this man? 

Is he Jungkook from Bangtan Sonyeondan? Or is he Jeon Jeongguk, your very own quiet, shy, reserved lover boy? 

“You're scaring me,” he whispers, putting down his wooden spoon and taking a few steps to stand in front of you. 

“Why me?” you ask, staring at his collarbones, too scared to look into his eyes. 

“What do you mean?” he asks back, sheepish. 

This time your eyes meet his. “Why me? Of all the women out there, why me?” You look down, taking in just how average you feel, every imperfection magnified in your eyes, now that you have so many people you're comparing yourself with, and competing with. 

“Candy—” He starts. 

“Everyone, everyone out there is literally foaming at the mouth at that commercial, and I'm here? I come home to you? I make love to you almost every night?” You pause and laugh bitterly at him. “I'm a fucking fraud.” 

He shakes his head and moves closer, grabbing your wrists. “A fraud, you say?” He tuts in disappointment, places your hands on his waist. “You're not a fraud, ____, you're my soulmate.” He leaves your hands once he feels them clutch at his narrow waist. 

Possessiveness hits you all of a sudden, and it is only mildly ebbed by his hands landing at the top of your ass. 

“I love you, and I make love to you because it's a fucking dream. You're a fucking dream, and I'm so upset that you don't see it.”

You're jealous. You're simply jealous. It's human and it's healthy to be moderately jealous. After all the comments you heard and read, it's fair to be jealous. 

“I reckon you saw the commercial.” 

“I saw the commercial and everyone's reaction to it,” you comment, slightly acidic. 

Jeongguk bends to place a kiss below your earlobe. “Are you angry?” 

No. Not just anger.

Your hands mimic his and crawl to his lower back, toying with the hemline of his underwear. “I'm not mad.” I'm disgustingly jealous and I don't like them having more of what's mine. They already have too much, they've always wanted too much and you always give it to them and I'm furious that it's not mine alone. 

Jeongguk wears a mischievous smile as he makes you take several small steps back, the back of your legs hitting the kitchen counter. “Do you like it?” 

You click your tongue and shake your head. “No.” 

The reply startles him, and he feels his mood dim. Did he—

“I'm not a jealous person, but this… God, this hits a new level,” you finally admit. “They already drool over you quite enough, and now they even have a video of you shirtless. How would I not be jealous!? Half the girls would have snapped your neck. If Yoongi ever did this, Kitten would have his balls dangling from her Mercedes keychain. I don't even know how Lace and Princess are handling their boyfriends naked on everyone's phone. If I were Tae I would seek political asylum in Greenland. Or maybe Tibet.” You take a large mouthful of oxygen before you launch yourself in another tirade. 

“Everyone's talking about grabbing your waist, licking your abs, tugging at your hair and shit and hi! I'm here! I'm the girlfriend! Sorry I exist! WHAT THE FUCK!?” 

Jeongguk laughs and lowers himself to your chest, kissing where your heartbeat echoes like a crazed war drum. 

“It's not fun!” you complain, significantly agitated. 

“Mh.” He hums as he moves aside the hem of your shirt, meeting the soft, smooth skin of your chest. “It was supposed to come out on your birthday, that's why's a bit more racy,” he explains more patiently. “But they decided to release it early.” He kisses a tender spot and your left knee tingles a little. “It was supposed to be a slightly too public boudoir shoot. But secretly it was just yours.” Jeongguk finds the cup of your bra and stares up at you as his fingers reach the hem and slide the fabric aside. “I was thinking of you when I made it.” 

And once his mouth wraps around your nipple, your right knee starts tingling too. 

“Must admit I had to push the limits a lot to finally make you jealous,” he purrs once he is done with the licking, sucking motion of his mouth around your tender flesh. “But I'm sorry I crossed the line.” 

What line? You think, your brain already hazy. No sharp line exists in the world you’re currently in. Just the loving, plush hills of Jeongguk's lips, the slippery slopes of his waistline, the sinuous curves of his hip bones leading you to his pelvis, and the soft curls of his luscious dark locks. No crossed borders, only gentle waves licking the shore, water and land embracing one the other. 

“Remind me who's the boss here, Candy,” he says, and you know he's playing you right now. “Remind me where I belong.” His mouth is at your ear as he whispers, “Show me who owns me.” 

The tingles are spreading as his fingers grab at your ass, his lips connecting with your jaw. “Talk to me, Candy.”

You’re not sure you can articulate words at this moment. Talking isn’t as easy as everyone makes it seem. 

His eyes connect with yours and he can tell you’re staring at his lips by the poetic detail of your lashes lowered over your cheekbone. 

It makes him chuckle, very gently, that he has all these details of you he adores, and that you have the audacity of asking him why he picked you, and why he keeps choosing you over and over. 

He loves you, his family loves you, his dogs love you. This is the way it’s supposed to be. 

His finger reaches underneath your chin, forcing your eyes to actually meet his. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he purrs, and as your lashes dart up, he shakes his head a little, loving the way you arch up a fraction, as if pulled towards him. “There she is, beautiful.”

You feel completely neutralised. Disarmed. All the storms brewing over you a minute ago are forgotten as soon as his sweet smile shines like sunlight above you. 

His hand combs your hair back, cupping your cheek and landing a kiss on your temple. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod. 

“What mood are we in?” You’ve asked him this question thousands of times since the two of you became serious, ever since he opened up about feeling too closed off to make a relationship work; and now, the fact that it was such a solid, valid ritual in your dynamics made it natural for him to ask too. “You need to talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I’m better. I…”

“Tell me what you want.”

You stare at him, at his shoulders, at his biceps, you trace his tattoo with your fingertip, and he looks closely at your finger, at it drawing swirls and circles on his skin. 

“Pick me up,” you say softly. 

And he does, immediately. His biceps flex and he grunts a little, not at the weight, but just because he knows the sound can make your toes curl, and he likes that a lot. His hands are wrapped around the back of your thighs, then they adjust to your bottom. 

“Next? Counter? Bed? Shower?”

You kiss him. Impatient, and needy, you kiss him. 

He opens up for you without hesitation, moaning at the sweet invasion of your tongue in his mouth. God, he loves it. It makes him melt, to feel your tongue slip against his, moving wet and sloppy, your lips plush and hot pressed up against him. He loves kissing you. Actually, he loves making out with you. He’s pretty sure he could come of that alone, and he tries to remind himself you have to give that a try. Another day. 

He places you onto the counter because he fears his knees might give out on him. And once he has you there it means his hands can roam all over you and grab your chest and toy with—

“No touching,” you snap at him, gripping his wrists and pulling his hands behind his back. 

His eyes go wide at the shift in pace, but he obeys. He also feels like he's awakening from a dream only to find out reality can be so much better. 

You dig your hands in his hair and he hisses a little as you tug gently, but still roughly. You think of all the people who wish they could do just so as you stare into his eyes, seeing just how turned on he gets as you manhandle him. 

You lean towards him and you notice him trying to kiss you, but you tug at his hair harder, holding him in place as the heat of your exhale fans over his parted lips and his chin. 

“You want me to own you?” you ask him, watching his muscles twitch as he fights the urge to grab you and put you in place. 

He nods. “Do me all the things no one else can.” He has a roguish smile as he adds, “Do me everything they won't ever, ever do to me.” And he is god of deception when he finally tips you over the edge. “Do me everything I want just from you, and you alone.” 

You watch him intently, then tug at his hair so that his head is angled upwards, throat vulnerable and exposed. 

He's staring at you with a mischievous glint in his expression, a walking temptation, and you can almost hear him say it, 'come on, do it'. And you do it. 

You bend forward and sink your teeth in his flesh, the tender skin caving in as your bite marks him softly before your cheeks move into a suctioning motion that you know will turn into a bruise. It just pleases you so. 

“Take a step back,” you order as soon as you're happy with the hickey. “Take off your shirt.” 

And he winks before he does. You watch the plain of his chest, the valley in between his pectorals leading you down to his navel. 

“I hope you're wearing your Calvin's,” you tease with a cocked eyebrow. 

He smirks. “Always in my Calvin's.” 

You snicker and shake your head. “Take off your pants.”

His forehead scrunches up in surprise, but he eventually obeys. 

He's standing in a pair of socks and his white boxer briefs. At least he didn't lie, they are Calvin Klein. 

“Do you want—” 

“The Calvin's stay on,” you sentence, then you descend from the counter. “Head over to the bedroom. I'll come over in a minute.” 

He stares at you, flabbergasted. 

“Oh, and I almost forgot: don't touch yourself. Settle down, hands on the headboard and wait pretty.” 

He blinks, unsure of where this is going to end or where it came from, but so blazingly grateful for it. 

“Okay.” 

You give him a quick once-over as you stand in front of each other. His abs are toned and defined, but now less alarmingly than the days before the shoot. His thighs are strong and you love how the material from the boxers wraps around them comfortably and smoothly. 

You dare stare at his crotch, at the way the fabric traces the curve of his length, so perfectly long and so perfectly thick.

You allow your fingertips to trace the curve of his spine, so lightly that it causes him to close his eyes, his head inched to the side as he shivers in pleasure. 

“Can I be rough with you?” you ask him, your hand reaching the small of his back and cupping the curve of his ass. 

He moves his hands on you the exact same way you did. “Maybe I like pain,” he suggests, and from the collection of tattoos and piercings, but mostly from the supercut of memories of him getting bitten, spanked and scratched by you, you’re reminded that you’re not dealing with the edited version of him he has promoted publicly. 

This is your boyfriend. Jeongguk. Your Jeongguk. 

You sink your nails into the flesh of his ass, and he hisses but smiles, pulling you closer, swaying his hips to tease your crotch with his. “Go get ready, babyboy,” you croon.

He hums invitingly and kisses your neck, trying to get you to move with him, but you’ve made up your mind already. 

“Go,” you repeat.

He pouts and grabs your hips. “Come on, what are you trying to do?” he asks, his brow furrowed, his eyes dark and wide and imploring for you to just follow him and spare him whatever cruel surprise you want to use against him.

You grab his wrists, making him unclasp his hands. “Go and you’ll find out.”

He hesitates and then he faces away, still reluctant, turning around a couple times on his way, checking if you’re following him — perhaps, maybe, hopefully…

Yet, you don’t move, not until he turns the corner to the bedroom. And then you make your way over, slow, unbothered. 

And you close the door on him. 

You head to the bathroom, wash up quickly, and equally quickly you cover yourself in his favourite lotion, taking special care of your neck and chest. Once properly buttered up and covered in nothing but pretty Calvin undies and his favourite Calvin jeans jacket, you’re ready to attack. But you stare at yourself in the mirror, and you feel like there’s still something you could do to give him a heart attack…

Oh, that, you think. And you get to work. 

Apparently he has behaved, as you find him lounging in bed, with his boxers still on, his hands laced behind the crown of his head, a fine slab of abs in full glow from the dark amber hue coming from his led lights. 

“Are we on a sunset gold kinda vibe— Holy shit.” He didn’t manage to sound as cool and aloof as he’d tried to be once his eyes landed on you. 

He wished he could take a picture of you and spread it across town, just so he could stare at it while waiting for a bus, or hanging out at Hongdae with his friends, and excitedly point at it while tipsy to holler “that’s my fucking girlfriend, that fine piece of ass fucking owns me”. 

He wished he could put you on an album cover and fill it with all the insane stuff you do to his heart and his mind and his body. How his heartbeat does a little hiccup thing when he sees you first thing in the morning, and how he’s spent every wish on fallen eyelashes over you, and making you happy, and building you a house and having fireworks for your wedding night, and having all his fans seeing just how incredibly fantastic you are to him, how you make him so happy and deliriously smitten and barely coherent when it comes to talking about you, and just… He just wants everyone to love you half as much as he does. 

And maybe for you to be only ever in love with him, so he doesn’t risk anyone thirsting for you enough to steal you from him. 

“What were you saying about golden lights?” you ask, climbing on the bed, your hand modestly holding the lapels of his jeans jacket together — it’s not time to destroy him yet. 

“I— I…” He tries to sit up, but you push him back where he belongs with a well-placed hand pressed to the middle of his chest. 

“Put on the red lights, love.” You grin devilishly, watching his doe eyes glimmer with wonder and disbelief. 

“Have I ever told you I am one lucky motherfucker?” he says, staring at your neck, at your face, at your hand, his palms already moving to your hips as you straddle him. 

“I just know it.” You sit on your throne — his lap —, stretch to the end table to grab the remote to switch the lights to red, and once the deal is settled, you let the jacket open. “I mean. I’m the luckiest because I have these, but considering you profit from them… You know…” You let your breasts show. 

“I know…” he says, entirely mesmerised. God, he is so easy, you think, watching his eyes scan your chest like a cat playing catch with a laser light. You mix your standard level of charm with a slow grind of your hips, so slow and gentle that it’s straight up teasing, torture at its blandest level.

“You make it so hard to think,” he speaks with a strangled voice, trying to make you move the way he wants, but you grab his hands with the excuse of lacing your fingers with his, only to drag them back by the sides of his head. 

“I didn’t know I could turn your brain into mush just like this,” you reply, feeling your folds moisten in an attempt to ease the sliding of your crotch against his length. Too bad both of you are still clad in your underwear and, according to your plans, would stay that way for quite a while, as long as possible. “You’re so whipped.”

“I am,” he purrs, and tries to get away with moving his hands back to your hips, but before he can dig his digits in the soft of your flesh, you tut. 

“You’d better not touch that ass, Jeon. Keep your hands to yourself if you want my hands on you,” you threaten. “Just to remind you who’s in charge, sweetheart.”

His eyes go wide and he moves his palms back behind his head as soon as you finish your remark. “Yes, miss.”

“Good boy,” you praise him, and you visibly notice him holding back from smiling at the praise. “Did you see my little mark?” you ask. “Call it a slog

an of sorts. A vision statement.” You shrug and push back the lapels, hoping for the lights not being too low for him to see. 

It has taken a while for your handy work to happen, mostly because it can be absurdly tricky writing in reverse, but thankfully you’re quite prone to graphic arts. 

Jeongguk rises a little, getting closer to where he can recognise dark scribbles on your chest. Unusual dark scribbles. 

“Is that… Tattooed?” he asks, and his eyes go wide as he meets your face. 

You cackle at him, leaning over and licking his lips, sucking his lower one, then travelling along his jaw, nibbling at his earlobe in a way that makes his hips jolt against you, buckling. “I can't have that tattooed, can I? Unless the world knows and it gets a little too permanent.” 

He frowns, not at the way he loses contact with your warm crotch, but because of the unwelcome realisation of what it means to not belong to you entirely. “I'm so sorry,” he sighs, trying to hold you, but stopping his hands before he can touch you. 

He goes back to his assigned position and begs you with his eyes. 

“Oh, no. Don't worry, it's okay.” To keep him distracted, you get back to a soft roll of your pelvis against his, and he seems to oppose, but it only lasts for maybe five seconds. 

His wound-up exhale convinces you to reward him further, lowering your chest so that it drags against his as you keep grinding on him. 

“Jeongguk, baby,” you murmur fondly. 

“So unfair… That I don’t get you like a girlfriend like anyone else…” He speaks, his focus spotty and frail. 

“What do you mean, love?” you egg him on.

“All the public stuff… All the PDA and the grand gestures. The stuff that makes it official, you know.” His eyes are glassy and fleeting as he speaks, and it really feels as if speaking were like making a necklace except he can’t quite line up the beads the right way and he can’t manage to get the string inside the hole and it takes a very long time for the words to finally turn into meaning and it’s all so frustrating. 

“I don’t care,” you reassure him, and this time you’re not unaffected either, the sentence stumbling out of you before you can even fully register the meaning you were trying to convey. “Can you read the tattoo, Guk?”

His eyelids lift through great effort, and in slow motion. You stop moving to help him focus on the writing, and he grunts at the interruption. He does not like that at all, and having you so close, so soft, so hot and wet for him is making his instinct vibrate with need to be inside you, move inside you, and then finally find his release in the welcoming darkness of your womb. 

“I—” He’s really trying so hard, god bless his heart, but he’s so unfocused and his vision is blurry and he needs to blink for a bunch of seconds before he manages to spell the message, and then compute it, and then smirk wildly before he bucks his hips up against you, letting you know that you’d better move on him. 

“What is it, Jeongguk? Mind sharing with the class?” you bait him with a cheshire grin. 

“Not sharing any of this,” he growls, and you can feel his arms jolt at the urgency to wrap around you, press you to his front and shove you underneath him, so that he can finally move as hard and as fast as he knows the both of you need. 

“Oh, don’t be a greedy little boy! Don’t you want to test how it feels to say it?” you tease him further, ready to push him to his breaking point. After all, that is what you’re always trying to do, get as far as it needs to make him go wild on you, barely coherent and entirely animalistic. 

“You want me to say it, don’t you?” he provokes you, feeling just how much the humiliation will further send you soaring over him. 

“I do,” you admit. 

He bites his lip and you look at him, you study the shape of his lips, the glint in his eyes, the dark shimmering of his lovely ebony locks, and the way his chest heaves with effort and arousal. “These tits own Jeon Jeongguk,” he speaks, his gaze piercing yours, holding you accountable for the undoing he knows will follow. 

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Your smile is sardonic, evilly pleased with his admission of submission, with him confirming, with conviction, that he is indeed entirely enslaved to his fascination for your chest, that he is so deeply enticed by it that just a silly part of you can guarantee you his unflinching devotion. 

“You know it’s right,” he grunts as your movements resume. And at this point, he knows this is going to take a while, and it will most surely turn out vicious. 

“Just checking in on you, making sure you haven’t found a better pair—”

“Don’t you dare talk to them like this. Not in front of me,” he hisses with a passion, and you chuckle at how chivalrously he defends your breasts from your own ill assumptions. 

“That’s so gallant of you,” you reply, your hands pulling his hair back, your tone fond and just vaguely lined with mocking. “Let them repay you for your kindness,” you suggest, as you start crawling down his body, your breasts landing heavily on his lap. 

“Really…?” he asks, first distracted and then extremely alert as he connects the dots. “With my boxers on?” He says with a frown. 

You shrug and smirk. “Maybe we’ll get rid of them later…” You sprinkle some kisses on his abdomen, your chest dragging against his sensitive parts. 

He frowns at the weight of them, so welcome, and yet deceiving as the fabric is hindering him from fully enjoying the act. “Please, off,” he huffs, tutting and fussing a little, but you decide to reward his patience with your nails tracing patterns against his chest, your fingertips drawing his areolae, your eyes hungry on his lost, bewildered state. 

“Not yet, love… Be patient with me,” you reassure him, tracing the rift in between the crests of his hips, one side, then the others, ricocheting between the bones on the two sides. “I’m going to make it so good to you,” you promise him, placing kisses all around the underrated perfection of his belly button — a huge ‘fuck you’ to the people salivating over him and never, ever knowing how such a minuscule inch of his body has you so irreversibly whipped. 

“Candy… Mh, love—” His voice has grown unbearably raspy and airy, so light it feels almost incorporeal, if it weren’t for the velvet smoothness of his skin underneath your lips, like marble that has finally received the breath of life, your boy an ineffable Galatea. 

“If you knew, Guk, if only—” kiss— “you knew—” kiss— “how sexy, and erotic, and exciting and poetic you look right now, baby. You look like art.” 

“Lemme touch you, I need you, I need—” he gasps and you’re almost expecting him to release a groan before he comes, way too early, much earlier than planned. But fortunately he doesn’t, he holds back stoically and cants his hips away. “For fuck’s sake,” he whispers, an arm covering his eyes. “I need a second if you need me to hold back.”

“Oh,” you reply in surprise, lifting yourself off him. “Are you alright?”

“Just give me some quiet for a second, Candy, don’t you dare even speak.” Jeongguk’s chest is rising and falling in wide movements, enticing and captivating.

Finally he removes his arm from his eyes, but he barely makes eye contact. 

“Guk?” You ask, worried. 

“Just— I’m trying to keep it cool here, love.” He wiggles his body a little, trying to get his boxers to fit a bit less tightly around him. “We should be smarter about this, you know?” His hands clench as he stops himself from reaching for you. “We should get a cockring for next time.”

You ogle him, then smile excitedly. “Really?” you chirp.

“Totally,” he concedes. He smiles even bigger at your smile. “Don’t tell me you bought one already.”

“Uhm… No,” you admit with a pout. 

“Dammit. It would have been weird, but I wouldn’t even have complained about it since it would pretty much save my ass right now.” He licks his lips, stares at you some more, and he groans and throws his head back at the renewed flare of arousal after he’d just managed to tone it down a notch. 

“I’m so sorry, bunny.”

“I’m alright,” he admits, his tone defeated. 

“Is this the right moment to suggest I ride your face?” you say, your grin now sardonic, almost drunk on him and the sight of his body shutting down for you, malfunctioning at the mere touch of you. 

He stares at you, wide eyed, nodding energetically, like a kid being asked if they want to visit Disneyland. “Guess it took a half naked commercial to get you to finally ask for it like you own it.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Careful or I can keep going with torturing you. I’m liking it anyway.”

“No no no, come over here,” he says with a stern and determined expression on his face, his hands reaching for the back of your thighs. “I’ve been waiting. Get comfy,” he encourages you, and after some manoeuvring you settle on top of him. 

He nods to himself, his nose nuzzling against the crotch of your panties, his mouth opening so he can feel your heat with his tongue, trying to get as close as possible.

Unsatisfied, his fingers reach to slip your panties to the side, but you slap at his hand. 

“Nope. You wanted the Calvin’s, and we’re keeping the Calvin’s,” you scold him. 

He frowns. “No, you were the one wanting them,” he argues. “Keep them on, you said.”

“Whatever.” You arch an eyebrow at him, but you also know he’s right and this decision has come to bite you in the ass. “Imagine how good it will feel once we take them off… And it feels a bit kinky to keep them on. Like… Like we’re having a quickie and everyone out there is waiting for model Jeongguk to come out anytime now, but once he does, well, he looks freshly fucked and everyone can’t stop talking about it— Oh, that!” you moan, your musings interrupted by Jeongguk trying to get bits of you in his mouth. 

You’re thankful for the brazilian cut panties giving him plenty of stuff to work with even with the underwear still on. 

“Stop me if it’s lewd but, dammit, I love the smell of you.” He drags his face side to side, basking in the damp, salty scent of your arousal. “I don’t even know what it is about it, but I like it so much.” 

“Keep doing whatever you’re doing,” you comment, your voice breathy. 

“Do you want me to keep talking?” he asks, and you just rub yourself against his chin, his mouth, and his words come out muffled. At some point you think you might have hurt his nose, so you ease the pressure a little, but he grabs handfuls of your butt and keeps you snug to his face, parts his lips wider as if he were really trying to eat you. 

He parts from his designed heaven only long enough to announce, “I’m pushing ‘em to the side, fuck it.” And you’re barely coherent, and he’s speaking with that intimate lisp of his, his accent heavy, like he can’t pay too much attention to words anyway. 

You don’t oppose. 

In seconds, his tongue is tipping inside you, slippery, and so hot, and you moan without even noticing it. Everything is soaked, his chest is covered in perspiration, and so are your thighs. 

You dare look down, and his eyes are closed as he is filling all his other senses with the sensation of you.

You bask in the sight of him, one forearm draped against the headboard of the bed, your other hand reaching down, to his fluffy hair currently tickling your inner thigh. You grab it, careful to be right between gentle and aggressive, in that way he finds so pleasant and sexy. 

He opens his eyes suddenly, and the moment he finds your eyes already connected with his face, he finds himself more eager to give you just what you need to plunge into oblivion. 

He gives you lush, slow licks, from your centre to your most sensitive spot, he takes his time, and moves into more sinuous motions, drawing curve after curve on his way up. He is unrushed, patient, and eloquent. He is luxuriant, explorative, curious. 

He loves what he’s doing, and he loves you and he’s showing it, top to bottom, and all the way up again. 

“Guk,” you breathe out, and it’s almost a hiccup.

“Yes, I know,” he murmurs against the bend of your inner thigh, right at the fold to your crotch. It’s so private, so sacred. It’s heartbreakingly yours and his and no one else’s. You’re in a shared space where nobody else can tell what you and him know. 

“Please,” you manage to say. 

He rearranges his arm so he can move two fingers along the seam between your legs, and then they’re inside, and he’s moving them right, rubbing them against the back wall of your entrance. 

As you tip your body forward, he moans with his mouth to your clitoris, happy with the new angle, and once you start grinding against him, climbing your way to your climax, he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t go faster, he doesn’t add pressure. He does not change one single thing, and you’re so grateful for the way he has come to understand you, your body, your tells. 

“Just right,” you encourage him. “You’re so damn perfect, love— Oh, there.”

That’s the last thing you can remember saying before he sets you off like fireworks. You don’t take much into consideration after that. All is fair, unless he’s holding you back. 

You grind, hump, moan, thrash just a little as you get too sensitive and fold in two, your forehead pressed to your wrist on the headboard 

as you shake your head ‘no’ but can’t bring yourself to stop from feeling everything he wants you to take. 

When you manage to recover, you whisper, “Okay, gimme a second.” And you try to unstraddle his face, but he holds you there, and simply avoids touching your sensitive parts, removing his fingers from inside you. 

“Are you alright, Candy?”

You nod and take some large breaths. 

He moves your panties back in place, then kisses your mound softly, affectionate, innocent even. 

“Can I do anything for you now, love?” He asks with a reverent, caring note in his voice. 

You shake your head, still recovering. “Can I lay on top of you?” 

“Sure thing,” he says, unlatching from you and leaving some room for you to realign with him, face to face, torso to torso, hip to hip, calf to calf. 

He’s still hard as marble, and the gentle grind of your pelvis against his causes him to groan softly. 

You press your lips to his to distract him. 

The jeans jacket you’re still wearing gives him something to ground himself, his focus aimed entirely at the feeling of the fabric underneath his fingers instead of the humid warmth of your crotch pressed against his. 

Just then, you bring your heels underneath your ass, rising to your knees as you swiftly remove your upper garment. 

The way his focus moves immediately to your breasts makes you cackle a little, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. 

“Candy, you’ll have to get that tattooed.”

“Nah, too dangerous. They might tell on you.”

He frowns. “You’re right,” he still agrees. Too dangerous. You’re dangerous to him too, and there are not many chances of him keeping some form of dignity if he could at any time see a tattoo calling him out for his undying liaison with your chest. 

He catches your wrists, making you lose your balance so that your torso collapses onto his. And he keeps you there, wraps you up in his arms. 

“Still jealous, love?” he asks you. 

“More than ever,” you admit, and you look into his eyes, recognising the feeling pooling in them. 

“I'm only yours,” he swears, kissing the side of your head, whatever he can reach, and it's so tender, so innocent, so magical. “What can I do for you?” he whispers, flirting with you. 

You wrap your hands around his forearms and bring them up above his head. “No. I want to do things for you.”

You press your lips to his gingerly, then start to kiss down, tracking his throat and moving further downwards, to his chest, stopping where his heart thumps against the petals of your lips.

“Beats so hard for me,” you comment lightly. “Do I make your heart race, love?” 

“You do, Candy,” his reply is strained, as if it hurt to speak at that moment. 

“But I—” You let your nails tickle the flat of his waist, the elastic band around his hips— “I also make your dick hard, don't I?” 

He moans eloquently, then chuckles at your teasing. “You so do,” he admits, embarrassed but also excited, and so so thankful for having found you. 

You grab the waistband of his underwear with your teeth, letting it slap against his skin with a dry snap. “Grab a pen from your bedside, will you?”

You look up just in time to catch his eyes flickering open, his expression coming to life slowly. “What?” he asks, confused. 

“A pen, from your drawer,” you repeat. 

“Oh.” He had been too unfocused and he hadn’t realised you were talking to him, as if the words were just sound with no meaning; however, now he’s paid attention, so he stretches to the side, exposing the slender twist of his waist to your reverent mouth. You kiss him there, his body contracting as your lips attack his ticklish spot. 

“You’re a menace,” he complains, giving you the side eye, but also offering you a boyish, loving smirk. 

“And yet, you love me.”

“You’re lucky,” he says, right before you nip at his skin in reprimand. “Okay, I am the lucky one,” he concedes, returning to you with a pen in his hand. “You want this one?” he asks.

You nod and stretch for it, then peck the mole beside his navel and make your way down. 

His underwear by now is bitterly persona non grata, still you make yourself okay with it and simply move the elastic down, exposing his hipbone more fully. 

“What you gonna do?” he muses, propping himself up and staring at you bent over his pelvis. You look at him and prepare the pen, staring in his eyes as you suck at your bottom lip, torturing it a little as you think. 

“Are you gonna mark me? Sign me up?” he asks, a mocking grin on his face. 

You move the pen away and loll your tongue out, drawing a thick stripe following the shape of him in his boxers. 

He immediately drops his cocky act and arches up, sensitive, holding on barely. 

“You think you’re so smart, huh?” you scold him provokingly. “Remember where this is all coming from,” you remind him threateningly. 

He gasps as your mouth sucks his tip through the fabric, your nails tracing the indentations of his quads. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’ve got me.”

You nod to yourself. “I do,” you say, patronising just in the slightest. And because you can you rise, remove yourself from the way, and pull at his hipbone, trying to flip him around. 

He’s alarmed, but he follows your lead. You straddle the back of his thighs, bend down, and move his underwear down, the elastic stuck under the fold of his ass, further emphasising it. It looks plump and delicious, and for a moment you’re caught admiring him. 

He’s twisting his neck to try and see what you’re doing, filled with wonder at the way your hair tumbles over, and he’s mesmerised by the shine of it, the softness of the tips, like a brush, whispering at his skin.

You pick the right spot, then settle down, folded over his glute. His skin is hot against your touch and when you finally bring the pen to his flesh, you hope it won’t fail, despite the perspiration and the soft surface. 

Shamelessly, you draw the words like an inscription on a stone. 

Poetic, and dirty. Just the way you like it. However, you don’t give him the benefit of knowledge. 

You lean back, watch your little handywork with a surging of pride and love and confidence. You smack it, just because you can, not hard, not soft either, just sweet enough that it doesn’t feel like a violation doing it without asking his permission first. 

His muscles squeeze, and his breath catches. 

Because I can, your brain keeps telling you, over and over, like a mantra. You’re allowed to. He’s yours and you’re the only one allowed to. 

“You’re getting confident with this,” he comments, and suddenly your eyes are meeting. 

He looks like something you would paint. Something you would dream of, and then wake up and sketch down in the middle of the night, caught by some sort of frenzy, some urgency mixed with an impending fear of forgetting, of losing it. Losing him. 

“I’m gonna draw you.”

He doesn’t connect the words for a bunch of seconds. Not until you’re standing up and running out of the room and he asks himself, why, why the fuck is she leaving?

“Candy?” he calls, unsure. 

He tries to see what in the world you’ve written on his ass, but you’re making your way back in the room, tablet in hand, and your steps are bouncy and your tits follow the movement so his attention is divided. 

“What— Where—?” He’s confused. 

And then you’re perched on the armchair at the corner of the room, and the light from your tablet reflects on your face, and you look spirited, caught by some urgency he can’t quite find a name for. 

“Candy, for the love of—”

“Just a bunch of minutes. A quick sketch, no more.”

He’s been patient. He’s been understanding. He’s let you tease him, and he’s let you touch him, lick him, suck him. He still has your taste all over his face and chin and he still feels the phantom touch of your breasts against his crotch and all he wants is to feel you on him, around him, against him. 

“Please,” he whines. 

“Just a minute.”

He swells. Frowns. Thrusts his hips against the mattress. 

“Almost—” you say, drawing a couple more lines. 

You’re in his arms next. “Put that down, Candy.” His face is right above yours and he’s carrying you bridal style. “Put it down,” he repeats. 

You're very still. He's looking at your quick sketch, at the way it was all a rough frame and some basic lines. “You're gonna post that? Share it as some fanart instead of a live portrait?” He throws you on the bed and you clutch your tablet harder, trying to save it from any damage. He's on top of you next, grabbing the device and moving it to his drawer before he returns upon you, blocking your wrists above your head. 

“Are you maybe going to draw it faceless, so you can sell it as a picture, to decorate somebody's house?” He bends to your ear and nips at the side of your neck. “Let my ass hang naked on someone else's wall?” 

You feel overwhelmed and surprised by his counterattack, not really knowing how to react. 

He drags his body against yours, stealing a whimper from your lips. “I think you enjoyed topping a little too much tonight.” He flips you onto your front next, and you find yourself only mildly embarrassed that he's made only one tenth of the effort it had taken you to flip him. 

He slaps your ass, and it is nowhere as playful or light as the spank you'd given him. It is his turn to grab the pen. 

“Let's see if you can walk the talk, Candy. If you like the taste of your own medicine,” he muses, and he bites your ass cheek, bending over to start writing, but accidentally finding himself unable to resist the urge to sink his teeth in your plush flesh. 

“Since I'm not a selfish asshole, I'm gonna tell you what I'm writing. Here we go, 'This ass likes spankings from Jeon Jeongguk'. What do you say? Is it true?” 

You're panting, wiggling in his hold, trying anything to see the possessed look on his face. “It's true,” you admit, breathless. 

He smirks and lands one more hit on your ass. “Damn right it is,” he says confidently. 

He tugs your underwear off harshly, almost angry. 

Soon he's naked, and so are you, and he's slipping inside you while you're still on your front, your hips arched all the way up, cupped by his hands. “Let's make this fuck more fun than your drawing, huh?” 

And when he starts, goodness, you want him to never, ever stop. 

He's ruthless, and he only asks if you're alright once, after three strokes. After that, all's fair, and he's ramming inside you in a way that makes you gasp and arch further, trying to get him even deeper, to an even better angle. 

You can't really look at him, since you'd risk a kink in your neck, but he doesn't care. He only cares about his handwriting on your ass, and his name on it. He only cares about the way you're gasping his name, and sometimes, when he slams in at the right moment, the impact causes too much of your breath to come out, so the whispered begging gets punctuated by moaned-out, hiccuped syllables. 

He smacks your ass a few more times, his hand tingling, but the spanks seem to make you happy, so he doesn't stop, and he doesn't complain either. 

“You're jealous of me, Candy,” he manages to speak, slowing down just enough so he has more of your attention. “Do you have any idea how jealous I am of you? How hard it is to feel like you want to own me half as much as I want to be yours?” He's on his knees behind you, and his thrusts grow more patient, more luscious. Richer and fuller. “Sometimes I'm scared you'll leave me, and someone else will get to have all the wonderful sex I get to have with you. Someone else will get to see your face first thing in the morning, and become a character in your cartoons, and talk about you with their granny, and bring you home for New Year's.” His face collapses close to your shoulder. “What will I do with myself, then?” 

You turn your face and you finally get to see him. “Flip me around,” you order him, but your voice is fond. “I want to look you in the eyes while you fuck me like no one else has ever.” 

His hair is fuzzy with his perspiration, and his face glistens with a light sheen of sweat. “Sure?” he asks, in confirmation. 

“I'm sure,” you comfort him. 

He's only happy once you're below him, and he's on top of you, inside you. 

You clench around him, and he frowns deeply, trying to control himself. Still, he gives a sharp jab with his hips, and it steals your breath. 

“Like that,” you praise him. “I want you to fuck me like that. Like no one else can.” 

His eyes stay wide open, stubbornly nailed to yours as he starts moving. It's hard and slow, and it makes you see stars. 

“Do you still feel like drawing?” he provokes you, “Or am I fucking you good enough?” 

You hiss and bite his arm, both to keep him humble, but also, again, because you can — and nobody else does. 

“Maybe I could get on top of you so you can watch my tits bounce, and maybe that will make you want to draw,” you bite back, and next thing you know you're both sat up, you're on his lap and he's bouncing you on his dick. 

“Definitely feeling inspired right now,” he concedes. “Maybe I should stop and paint them.” 

You push him down and he's finally with his back to the mattress, you on top. “Or maybe you could shut your mouth and get busy so I can cum.” 

The slap lands almost immediately on your ass. “Dirty mouth. And a fucking divine cunt,” he speaks through gritted teeth. 

He lets you lead for about thirty seconds, during which he stays occupied with your boobs, grabbing them, slapping them, pinching your nipples, and then he grabs your hips and stills them. 

“Touch yourself,” he orders your roughly before he starts fucking up from below you. 

It escalates quickly from there, and in less than a minute you're gone, collapsing forward, against him, and he's so thankful because he's coming too and your kegels are squeezing him just right, and he only manages to say “fucking yours” before he abandons all his inhibitions and loses himself inside you. 

You come back to reality only, and you find yourself tucked in his embrace, his body above yours. You don’t know when he flipped the two of you over, but you like his weight on top of you. 

“Hey,” you murmur, combing his hair away from his face. 

His expression is lazy and satisfied. 

Well done, you tell yourself, almost giving a pat to your own shoulder. He looks fantastically fucked, deliciously edible and perfectly yours. 

“Hey you,” he replies, with the most heavenly, blissful grin on his face. No, too tired to be a grin, more like a glowy smile. It’s not fully on, it looks like those battery-operated lights when they’re almost out of energy, a bit faded, or maybe pale. Faint, feeble, dim. Soft. Muted. If his bunny smiles were jewel tones, this was the most delicate pastel pink. A powder baby blue, almost robin egg blue. 

You want to wrap yourself in the hazy glow radiating from him, gentle as a sunny dawn in late May. 

“So glad you got those Calvin’s,” you joke, and there it is, bunny grin, ten million watts. Apparently that makes his battery die because his head collapses to your neck and he doesn’t seem willing or ready to lift himself back up. 

“So glad I made you jealous. But also sorry,” he says, truly apologetic. “I’m happy we did this. I’m happy I saw you like this.” 

His lips tickle the side of your neck, and you squirm a little, but you try not to move too much. You want to be comfortable for him to rest on. You want him to stay like that on top of you forever. “I’m still maddish. But I think I can deal with it.”

“There’s more pictures coming,” he says tentatively, and he makes the effort to pick up his head to give you a helpless look, trying to protect himself already by giving you the sweetest pair of puppy eyes he’s ever used on anyone. 

“Oh, I’m totally getting your ass branded,” you reply, saccharine. “I was thinking I could make those ribbons, like the ones the police use, except I put my name on it and I wrap it all around your chest, so they can’t drool all over your abs.”

He laughs, and the sound is boyish and playful, and lovely. You fall in love a tiny bit more. 

“Can I see the pictures in advance?”

He hums as he thinks about it for three seconds, except he already knows how he wants to play it. “Mh…” he says some more, keeping you on your toes. “No.” He looks up, testing you. “But let’s say I hope you get that cockring ready.”

You pull your head back, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re not naked in your Calvin’s, right?”

He grins, gives you a devilish wink. “Maybe.”

You grab his cheeks and squeeze his face and he laughs so hard you can’t be possibly mad at him for even a nanosecond. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“And your tits will be it for me,” he flirts back. 

You shake your head. “Brat.”

And he kisses you. Just that. 

Before he hits the shower the following morning, Jeongguk inspects the damage you’ve done on him. 

He’s quite happy with it. A very faint bruise on his neck. A red splotch on his abs, and another on his hip, but nothing that won’t fade within one or two days. He knows you know the drill by now. 

He turns around to inspect his back, and he’s okay with it, nothing that will get him in trouble in case he needs to be shirtless or generically undressed around staff members. He drops his underwear and it’s only once he’s making his way to the shower that he notices something strange on his asscheek. 

Oh, fuck. Suddenly reminded of your little handiwork with the pen the night before, he bends to the side, trying to get a better view at his ass. 

He finds himself wobbling side to side, like a silly puppy chasing his tail, and that is exactly the way you find him when you enter the bathroom. 

A laugh bubbles out of you and you smack his butt playfully. “Do you need help with that?” you ask, cheery. 

“No,” he bites back, but he has the most innocent, pouty look on his face, and he is having fun a little. “Maybe,” he concedes, his voice young. 

You wrap your arms around him and rise to your toes, propping your chin on his shoulder as you hug him from behind. “I wrote, ‘Candy’s babyboy’.”

His ears go red, just the tiniest bit. “Really?” His expression is so sweet. 

“Really,” you confirm, confident, serious, and loving. 

“You’re not making fun of me,” he asks, vulnerably. 

“I promise I’m really, really not, Guk.” You kiss his shoulder. “You’re my babyboy. And my sexy man. And just mine, generally speaking.”

He nods, a happy, fulfilled look on his face. “Right.” He’s once more confident. Entirely adult. 

“Love you,” you reassure him again, and then you kiss his shoulder, again. 

He grins. There he is, your boy. “Love you too.”

Hi it's Dita, the writer, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment to keep this poor gremlin fanfic writer motivated. Bye and I LOVE YOU!!!

[marthawrites]

To Break The Tension

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 3.4k+

About: You and Aemond have a no strings attached relationship. He has a surprise for you and you are more than excited to go see what it is.

Includes: Friends with benefits dynamic and smut featuring adult language, vaginal fingering, mild degradation, praise, cockwarming, spanking, and unprotected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! Here is a loosely themed October story 😊 I've had this idea rolling around in my head ALL MONTH and I finally was able to get it outta my head! The movie in this fic is unspecified, but I wrote it with the new "The Excorist: Believer" in mind. However, insert whatever horror movie you would like! Reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

-

You were finishing drying your hair when a text came through. Glancing down at your phone before the screen blacked out, you saw it was Aemond. You unlocked it with a swipe to see:

What are you doing?

It just so happened you weren’t doing anything. Your roomie was finishing a huge paper for one of her classes so you were keeping to yourself in your room. You just took one of those extra long showers: the kind where you wash, shave, exfoliate, and everything between. Partly because you were bored and didn’t know what else to do, and partly because you couldn’t remember the last time you let yourself have one of those. Self care days were few and far between – between classes and work, life was crazy!

You thought about sending him a selfie of you in only a towel. Or maybe even a tit pic. He loved those. Not tonight. You didn’t want to seem overly easy or overly eager. Instead, you chose the dignified response of:

Just finishing up a couple things! What are you up to? ♥

Aemond was just as busy, if not busier, than you. You two met in a study group a few months back and immediately clicked. If you both chose to make your "relationship" official there’d be many who claimed it to be love at first sight. But, no, it wasn’t quite like that. It was lust at first sight. By the end of that night, when he offered to drive you home, you were making out in his car. With kiss-swollen lips he buried his fingers in your pussy while your lipgloss still shone on his cock; tinted windows foggy with breath.

‘Friends with benefits’ you both called it. No strings attached. Someone to have fun with without the commitment of an actual relationship. It worked out pretty well, honestly! The sex was fucking great. Yet, still, you found yourself wanting the intimacy that came with sex, too, and not just the steamy fuck.

I found something I think you’ll like. Come over?

Your interest was instantly piqued. What did he have up his sleeve?

Ooh! A surprise? Be over soon!

He didn’t send anything back, but you didn’t mind because you were able to finish getting ready with no distractions. You put on some of your favorite comfy clothes not bothering to get dressed up. Instead of interrupting your roomie during her paper, you sent her a quick text letting her know what you were up to and that you’d be back after a few. 

Half an hour after Aemond’s first message you pulled up to the Targaryen estate. You parked, checked yourself in the mirror one last time, and walked up to the front entrance. Only, it wasn’t Aemond who greeted you there.

“Hey!” Aegon’s amused voice drawled out. “If it’s not the reason my little brother is dressed like a slut tonight,” he said as he eyed you up and down, smirking behind his cigarette. He smoked lazily while leaning on the front porch’s bannister, and was all too entertained by you showing up. His silver waves were tossed in a way that made you annoyed at how perfectly imperfect they looked. Stupid Aegon and his stupid taunts.

Just as your chin set defiantly, and your eyes narrowed in preparation for a snarky response, Aemond appeared in the doorway. He leaned against it with his arms crossed wearing a quiet amused smirk. 

Gray sweats. Black t-shirt. Hair pulled back into a bun. 

Yeah. He was dressed like a slut.

Choosing to dismiss Aegon, you said, as sweetly as you could muster, "we have different definitions of the word 'slut'. He looks positively normal to me. Maybe even a little dull."

"Ha! Look at him! Trust me. That little floozy is begging for it," he said with a sly drag from his smoke.

"You're wearing the same thing, Aeg. Don't sound so jealous."

"I'm wearing a hoodie though. AND slippers! It takes away the desperation!"

Aemond gently pushed you inside as Aegon ranted. Aemond flipped him off and swung the door closed. If he had been any slower you'd have heard Aegon cracking up amidst coughing on cigarette smoke.

"He thinks he's hilarious," Aemond snarked close behind you as he guided you up the manse's grand staircase. "God, you smell good."

You giggled and did your very best to ignore the goosebumps his compliment sent tickling along your neck. "You should have smelled me before. You caught me on a good night," you replied cheekily.

He opened the door to his room. After gesturing you inside he gave your ass an appreciative little slap. You were both closed and locked in, now. "Ready for the surprise?"

Glancing around his room you didn't notice anything different. Nothing appeared out of place. There definitely wasn't a wrapped and bowed package anywhere for you! "Yes. Come on, Aems, you're killing me with the suspense!"

He had a nice gaming computer setup, and when he slid into his chair you followed to look over his shoulder. "Check it out," he said as he clicked on an icon to open a movie.

One of the brand new horror movies that wasn't even available to own yet. "How'd you get this already?"

He chuckled at the genuine confusion of your question. "It's not hard," he answered, smug.

"It's illegal!"

"Oh pfft. Only if you're caught."

"You pirate! No wonder you always wear this silly thing," you teased as you slid your fingers across the worn leather of his eyepatch. He had a prosthetic from a horrible childhood accident and never outgrew the self-consciousness of it. You didn't mind it or the long white scar that accompanied it. But, still, you never pressured him to take it off.

He chuckled as he clicked the mouse a couple times. It started playing on the large TV mounted on his wall. "Ready to get scared?"

You fiddled nervously. You did want to see this one. Really bad. But it also looked really creepy. "I dunno… I didn't mentally prepare for this, ya know? When you said surprise I didn't think it'd be something like this!" You admitted with palpable uneasiness.

"Sounds like a good surprise to me, then," he said smugly. "And what were you expecting?"

His bedroom was spacious, open, and tidy. You'd seen studio apartments that were smaller. Walking over to his bed, you swiped one of his pillows before plopping down on the couch. You hugged it and looked up at him with playfully frightful eyes. "Maybe some kisses?"

"You're so fucking cute," he said, looking down at you with a self-satisfied smirk; yet another Targaryen trait he and his brother shared. He reached forward and gently tipped your chin higher, thumb grazing over your bottom lip. "Already looking at me with these eyes, hm?" He asked with a tilt of his head. "I bet I can hold off longer than you. You probably won't even last half the movie without my cock in your pretty mouth."

Heat rushed up to your face and down between your thighs. You had half a mind to bite his thumb. You rolled your eyes. "Shut the hell up," you snorted. "You're such an asshole!"

Aemond scoffed and grabbed a blanket for both of you. A moment later he sat beside you with his arm draped over the top of the couch behind you. "Don't worry, baby. I won't hold it against you." 

Even though he was still grinning like a stupid fucking cat he smelled really good. Too good. It was impossible to fight the lure of him. You leaned into him and instantly melted in comfort. "Do you ever stop talking? I'm trying to watch this."

"Oh. Okay okay, I'm sorry. Sheesh," he whispered.

The next thirty minutes or so went by quickly. The movie had an intense opening followed by a believable set up. There were subtle things in the beginning that reminded you of the type of movie it was. Timeless horror. After some well placed tropes and smooth scene transitions, you didn't realize the build up of tension had you squeezing Aemond's hand.

Right at the tension's peak, when you were holding your breath for what might happen next, the movie flexed its first jump scare. It got you good. So much so that you gasped (squeaked?) and buried your face in Aemond’s smooth, warm, exposed neck; your quick breath made you embarrassed.

Even though you were scared, and your reaction was wholly innocent, it had a much less innocent effect on Aemond. He said you'd be the first one to give in tonight. Yet, there he was: half hard all because your face was against his neck with those cute little breaths. He tried to fight it. "You okay?" He asked, rubbing your back.

"No," you squeaked. "I mean… yeah, I am. Just.. ah! That jump scare was so cheap and stupid but my heart is still pounding!" You laughed, reluctantly pulling away from him.

His eye had a sort of dark amusement to it. There were no soft comforting lines on the sharp angles of his face. "My tough girl… always listening to podcasts about true crime, hauntings, cryptids… and a dumb little jump scare gets you this worked up?"

"Shut up!" You said. His voice dripped with condescension and mockery and it made you blush all over again. "It's different when it's a movie, okay?"

"Mm… if you say so."

Somehow you were able to turn your attention back to the movie. For a little bit, at least. It didn't take much longer for the creep factor to multiply by tenfold and before you knew it you were in Aemond’s neck. Again. 

"You're hilarious," he laughed. "Isn't the original one of your favorites?"

"Yes. A love hate relationship," you mumbled against his skin. Without having to see them, you felt goosebumps pebble beneath your mouth; you weren't the only one getting worked up.

"You're extremely distracting."

In your defense some super weird shit happened next, and with it you jumped on his lap. Straddling him, you whispered, "I don't want to be scared anymore." Your lips brushed against his in a delicate, inviting kiss. Your arms draped over his shoulders so your fingers could slide up the back of his neck, squeezing at the base of his hair. 

He made a soft noise – so soft you might have missed it – and you felt him twitch under you. You loved how sensitive Aemond's scalp was. And right now you fully used it to your advantage.

You pressed your knees tighter against the outside of his thighs. Teasingly, to test his resolve, you rolled your hips over his groin.

That's all it took. Aemond hissed an inward breath. His pupil swelled. "I can feel how hot you are through all of our clothes. Is this why you're so worked up? Need to get off a time or two?" He asked, hands squeezing your hips.

"Not just me, Aems…," you mumbled accusingly. "You're already hard. And from what? Seeing me scared?"

A noise like a growl rumbled in his chest. "You've been panting and whimpering in my neck like a puppy for almost an hour. How can I not be hard? You make the same noises when my fingers are in you." He moved one hand into the waistband of your bottoms and pushed inside. There, long slender fingers brushed your covered cunt. And, while watching you, those fingers slid beneath your underwear to trace over your slit. He groaned at the slickness he met. "Fuck, baby, you're this wet from being scared?"

Arousal tightened all those low muscles in your belly. Anticipation quivered inside them making you shiver atop him. You gasped, instantly catching your bottom lip in your teeth as he circled your soaked little clit. "Don't tease me, Aems," you begged. 

He stayed on your clit. Circling, rubbing, tracing over and around the bud. "I'm gonna play with your pussy just like this for the rest of the movie. How does that sound?" 

You whined, already grinding your hips in time with his touch. "No. Please. I need more of you…"

He angled one of his fingers just right. The next time you ground on his hand that digit slipped up into you. You gasped together. His mouth crashed to yours with a deep, needy kiss. "That's right. Fuck yourself on my finger until you cum," he rasped between kisses, squeezing your hip harshly with his other hand.

Your bottoms were in the way and he wasn't moving his wrist much. He wasn't pumping into you, wasn't adding another finger, wasn't doing much at all except coaxing you with hushed praises and mockery. Yet, still, you ground all over him and whimpered into his mouth. He must have liked what you were doing because he slipped a second into you and curled them just slight, just enough, and soon you were shuddering atop him. "God, yes, I'm gonna cum!" You panted. "Fuck!"

Your little squeaked curse sent Aemond's cock aching. When you came around his fingers he laughed lowly, darkly, pulling out only when he knew you were done. "Stand up and take those off," he ordered, voice thick with desire.

You obeyed without even thinking about it. He pushed his own sweats and briefs down, too, cock standing stiff. Your mouth watered at the sight – cunt clenching at the sight – and in an instant you were straddling him again. "Been thinking about this since you texted me," you said breathily. You sunk down on him. Inch by wonderful inch. Your spongy walls yielded to him and the stretch of him had your eyes rolling closed.

"Always so eager for me," he said in a voice heavy and strained. "Shit, babe. Look how well you fit around my cock. Be a good girl and just stay there, yeah? Keep this hard fucking cock warm while I finish the movie since you're too scared to."

"Aems…," you whined.

"Shh…," he hushed. "I know you can do it. Be a good little cocksleeve and stop distracting me from the movie." His mouth said one thing yet his eye said another. Fuck yourself stupid, it said. Ride yourself silly, it also said. Show me what you got, it dared.

Your brain was already mush. Aemond had that awful effect on you. "Just like this?" You asked, lazily shimmying your hips until he nestled into the perfect spot. 

"Just like that," he praised, kissing your soft lips.

It was extremely challenging to simply stay there with your head resting on his shoulder, body melted atop his, with him stuffed up inside your slickened walls.

The first couple minutes were the worst. Anytime you'd been in this position before, you were fucking him absolutely wild with only one thing on your mind: your release.

Soon, impatience shifted to comfort. It felt… good. Really good. You were still so wet, and he was still so hard, that together it created a wholeness you never quite experienced before.

All the while you peppered kisses along his neck, his jaw, his face. "Are you trying to impress me?" He asked as his hands never quite stayed still on you. They happily wandered all along the shape and bends of your body. "Because it's working. Mmm… what a good girl. Behaving yourself so well."

Meanwhile, whatever was happening in the movie grew more intense by the scene. It must have been ramping up to the climax because the combination of dialogue, sound effects, and music, had you on edge even though you had your back to it. 

Aemond seemed entranced by it. Maybe you'd have to watch it with him another day when you were more mentally prepared for a horror flick… and only after you fucked two or five times.

You clenched around him, then. Fluttering the walls of your still soaked cunt around his still rigid length; tightening, relaxing, squeezing, easing. He felt too good and you were becoming restless again. Smirking to yourself, you ground against him – partially to release some of the pressure building inside of you and partially to see what his reaction might be.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked, giving you a small upward buck of his hips.

"I love the way you feel. I want more of you," you answered truthfully. You took his action as an invitation and ground against him again, sighing blissfully.

Instead of a breathy praise, or low approving rumble, you were met with a firm smack against your asscheek. He spanked you again, and even a third time, alternating between your cheeks. "Greedy girl. Look at you being so needy you can't even follow simple directions." He slapped you more, all too proud of himself for the way you continued to squeeze around him in tandem with your little noises.

"Please, Aems!" You looked at him with dark desperate eyes.

He chuckled. "You just need fucked that bad? Begging for my cock even though you're already sitting on it?"

You nodded, pitiful. "Yes, yes, yes," you said, holding still despite lust gnawing at your core.

"Greedy greedy girl," he growled, pushing you off him so you were laying on your back on the couch. He removed his shirt in one quick motion. Long, lean, and beautifully alabaster, he loomed above you while lining himself up with your eager entrance. "This needy cunt can't even wait half an hour to be fucked."

Anytime Aemond's voice took on that edge you melted. You couldn't help yourself. Your thighs spilled open wide for him. "You always know what I need," you teased breathily.

"You're all mine to use, aren't you?" He asked, sinking into you. The muscles of his abdomen flexed as he pushed further into you. As soon as he filled you up entirely he moaned a delicious sound of satisfaction. "I love the way you look on your back." He punctuated his words with strong thrusts, giving you (and himself) exactly what you needed.

Pleasure already began to web outward from your spine. Your fingertips tingled. Your toes curled.

"Look at you," he cooed, not slowing his pace or rhythm. If anything he gripped your legs harder; dented his fingertips firmer into your soft flesh. "Keep taking my cock like the little slut you are. Yeah, yeah, just like that…"

His name fell from your lips as his words pushed you to the edge of your pleasure. Close, close, you were so close. You tugged your shirt up over your belly and chest to show off your bouncing tits to him. Your bra clipped in the front and you quickly unclasped it. When your breasts spilled free they bounced with the intensity of his movements.

"God, I love those tits," he rasped, shamelessly watching them. He made no move to grab, hold, or pinch them, simply watched the way they moved as he pounded into you.

"Ahh! Yes!" You said as orgasm ripped through your body. You held onto the bliss as long as you could, and as soon as you let go you turned to putty beneath him. He fucked you through it. You were in your happy place. Weightless. Senseless. Savoring every second of your climax as it took you to the stars.

Aemond managed to pull out of your quivering cunt at the last second. With a series of deeply satisfied groans he unloaded all over your exposed belly and tits. Ropes of cum shone on your skin. He panted, cheeks pink from the exertion, until every last drop of him glittered on you.

"You're sexiest like this," he said before he slowly stood and stepped away from the couch. He reappeared a moment later with a handful of tissues. He cleaned himself off as you cleaned yourself, too, basking in the afterglow of peak together. 

Neither of you said anything for a few minutes as you laughed and caught your breath. "You missed the ending, Aems," you finally said, gesturing to the rolling end credits.

"Guess we'll have to start it over," he said with an easy grin and shrug. 

"Guess so," you agreed dreamily.

Still naked, he walked to his computer and restarted the movie.

He sat by you again, greedily looking you over. "Stay like that, though."

You peered at him confusedly.

"I wanna see how far I make it before I'm eating that sweet pussy."

Once again, blood rushed to your face and you hoped he didn't notice.

You hadn't quite made it through half the movie before you pounced on him. How long would Aemond Targaryen last? Especially once you started flashing him all the angles and poses you knew he couldn't resist. He could talk tough all he wanted. You knew how much he loved your taste on his tongue.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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Masterlist

Main Taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @dreamsofoldvalyria @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

Aemond Taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @evermorre @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @okfashionista @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998

[koolades-world]

Hihihihi, in case ya remember me, im the Pain-sensitive anon, and in case i will request again remember me as BigS, because my requests are as big as my S, but enough about that.

Poor you, so many requests. Drink water, be stronger that those 637181 requests, don't let them kill you!!!

But im here to torture you with another one~

So i have an album with 3814 Asmodeus screenshots(I FKIN LOVE MY BOYFRIEND!!!), and i had an idea "dam, if Asmo became real, it would be very hard to explain why i have 4k pics with him... " So here is request!

Brothers, finding out that MC's new hyperfixation is... them?

Apparently MC is neurodivergent or something like that, and as many neurodivergent ppl, they have a hyperfixation! They just randomly becoming very interested in something specific and collect stuff with it, talk with everyone about it, and remember every single detail about it! Like Levi with TSL.

But one day, brothers realise that MC stopped talking about their past fixation and was less interested with it. They think that "Oh, they probably just found something new!". But one day, they take MC's phone just to find that... They have a giant album in their gallery that is dedicated only to him????

The album has every photo he posted on Devilgram, every photo that he send MC, some unique photos that MC shooted themselves, even some chat screenshots with times when he said something cute to them! They even was photographing thigs that "reminds of him". Like some cheeseburger with "Beel vibes", Blue flower that "Looks like Luci" or gorgeous mannequin that "feels like Asmo".

If its someone like Asmo, he would also notice thta MC started buying their fanclub's merch! Like "Asmo lover #1" shirt or "Lucifer best man!!"cup(Luci is very popular, he probably also has some fanclubs! i hate this guy tho)

I think Levi and Mammon would die from embarrassment. Asmo would die out of happiness and Satan with Luci will try to pretend like thay never saw that. and idk about other ones. :P

I think that would make a cute fluff and a very scary situation if it was real uwu

Thats all

Have a nice dayyyyyyyyyyyy~~~

-BigS aka.AlgophobicDude

hey! great to hear from you again :)

haha thank you! been slowly knocking out requests one at a time and let me tell you it's a lot more fun than it might look haha

i wrote this while wearing a pink cowboy hat. i just wanted to share that

you got it! enjoy!!

Mc with a hyperfixation on the brothers

Lucifer

is this a human thing?

he's happy to indulge you as long as you're not too loud about it out in public

especially please don't share those pictures with anyone, like mammon. he will sell those, especially the ones he only intends for you. please

he's happy you don't hate him, actually. you make this old man very happy haha

Mammon

he would never tell you, but he's also got a photo album dedicated to you

also has a note on his D.D.D. full of all the things he never said to you but hopes to be brave enough to one day to tell you

he doesn't tell you he's got that though, not in a million years

he really loves that you're hyperfixated on him because that just means you care about him just as much as he cares about you

Levi

as expected, he's very flustered

he knows what it's like to have a little blorbo and he would give anything to be able to see them daily in person and live with them

he's over the moon once he realizes this and despite his embarrassment, he pushed through to spend more time with you

he's so dedicated <3

Satan

he's probably the most puzzled

he's always learning new things about humans even when he thought he knew everything

he knows and trusts you so from time to time, he'll take a picture with you in mind that he knows will remind you of him

all in all, he does think it's a little strange but won't stop you since he's never seen you happier

Asmo

like they said, you're literally about to become the number one member of his fanclub!

lucky for you, once he finds your asmo photo album, he's feeding into your hyperfixation

you get lots of exclusive privileges, such as early morning selfies and all his merch for free, including prototypes

he's always ready to pose for a picture for you. every side is his good side!

Beel

he's a little confused but he's happy to make you happy

he listened to you talk about your hyperfixations the most beside levi so he's quick to pick up on this shift

to make you happy, he decides to make a handmade adult bib just for you haha and at first he's a little sad but then he finds it while digging for your snack stash

you've never worn it once because it's hanging in your closet next to your fancy outfits <3

Belphie

you what? is his initial reaction

from the outside, it seems like it doesn't bother him or that he could care less

but, on the inside, he's elated since he thought after how he tricked you, you'd never want to be close to him again

now, you're the very thing that makes you excited to wake up every morning by his side

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Cater Diamond - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: This museum's been around for 100 years, huh～ Bet there'll be a ton of things to look at! Let's enjoy this together!

Summon Line: I'll just upload a pic of the outside of the building with the tags #ImASupporterNow and #MuseumPR... Perf, now it's posted!

Groooovy!!: Poor thing, adrift in a bottle～ Well, guess that's whatcha get.

Home: A 100th anniversary is pretty rad, huh?

Home Idle 1: From what I hear, the country ruled by the Queen of Hearts was super photogenic. My dorm's gotta make sure we live up to that!

Home Idle 2: Jamil-kun looked kinda faint looking at that golden scarab painting...

Home Idle 3: No flash photography inside the museum, huh. I'll have to be careful when I'm taking pics～ I should change the setting now before I forget.

Home Idle - Login: I always thought museums were pretty stuffy, but this is actually pretty fun. The building's got some character, so it might actually be a pretty good photo spot ♪

Home Idle - Groovy: Checkin' out paintings with someone's pretty fun because of all the conversation possibilities. It was pretty fun being able to chat with Ruggie-kun about makeup.

Home Tap 1: How well do I do in art class? My professor usually says I have a good eye for composition and color sense ☆

Home Tap 2: Look at the miniature Great Seven on these stickers! They're so cute I had to buy them. Maybe I'll stick them on my guitar case.

Home Tap 3: The Thorn Fairy's men were all dancing around the fire, huh. I wonder if Briar Valley has some kind of similar tradition. I should ask Malleus-kun.

Home Tap 4: Jack-kun says he is drawn to the painting where the King of Beasts is looking real regal. I think I like the one where he's relaxin' more～

Home Tap 5: Why're you just staring me down like that...? Ooh, did seeing your boy Cay-kun all serious about the exhibits captivate you? Ahaha, jk, jk!

Home Tap - Groovy: Ta-daa! Heeeere's Cay-kun in all his formal getup! Since we're both dressed to the nines, let's grab a selfie together ♪ C'mon, come and stand next to me!

Duo: [CATER]: Ruggie-kun, you gotta help me make this shot count! [RUGGIE]: Cater-san, please put away your phone!

Birthday Login Message: A little quiz for you, [Yuu]-chan! What do you think is Cay-kun's lucky charm for today? The answer is... a present! The more I get, the happier I'll be, my horoscope says～ That's why I'm on the lookout for people who might have presents for me. Are you that someone, [Yuu]-chan～?

Requested by @farfalla049.

[the-himawari]

A3! Miyoshi Kazunari - Translation [SSR] MANKAI Treasure (2/3)

*Please read disclaimer on blog

---

*flashback starts*  

Kazunari: Phew… Lovelin and the others at the Dog Circus sure were adorable~. Everyone was just too cute, I keep looking at the pics I took of them on my phone over and over again.

*door opens*

Kazunari: Ah, welcome back, Tax! Are you back from a run?  

Tasuku: Yeah. I was running along the riverbank.  

Kazunari: You go on both a morning run and an evening run… your self-discipline is no joke~.  

Tasuku: Well, I enjoy running after all. …  

Kazunari: Hm? What’s up?  

Tasuku: …Are those pictures from the circus? That reminds me that I actually watched the dog circus the other day.  

Kazunari: Huh? Hold on, are you talking about the same dog circus I appeared in?  

Tasuku: Are there any others?  

Kazunari: HUHH!? You came to watch! You should’ve shot me a line if that’s the case~!  

Tasuku: Sorry about that. I was going to tell you but missed the chance to.  

Kazunari: Sooo, how was it?  

Tasuku: Well… it was fun, plain and simple.  

Kazunari: I know, right~! It totes raises your sprits right up! Ah, and me? How ‘bout me?  

Tasuku: You worked hard, didn’t you? The crowd was riled up when you guys appeared too.  

Kazunari: Woohoo! Tax complimented me ♪  

Tasuku: Also… the dogs were a sight to see. Their skills were impressive with the way they carried the balls so well and jumped so dynamically.  

Kazunari: Ah, right! You’re a dog lover, aren’tcha! Is that why you came~?  

Tasuku: …That’s not the only reason, okay?  

Kazunari: I’ll just leave it at that~. …Ah, that’s right! That reminds me, there’s a spot I wanna go with you, Tax. If you’re down, then let’s go together!  

Tasuku: Huh? A spot you want to visit?  

-pause-  

Dog A: Woof, woof!  

Kazunari: They’re so cute I’m gonna die~! Shiba inu cafes are a fluff-filled heaven! Here, here. Head pats for you~.  

Dog A: Woof!  

Tasuku: They’re brimming with energy…  

Dog B: Arf, arf.  

Dog C: Bark!  

Kazunari: I wanted to try coming here with you since you love dogs~… err, woah! The puppies are all over you, Tax. They’re all gathering at your feet! Give them some pats~!  

Tasuku: Sure thing. …Here, here.  

Dog B: Arf ♪  

Dog C: Woof~.  

Kazunari: The interaction between a big, rugged man and an adorable little doggo totally hits~. Let me snap a pic later!  

Tasuku: No.  

Kazunari: Aww! Buzzkill!  

Dog D: Arf, arf, arf!  

Tasuku: Would you like me to throw this ball? Here goes—.  

Dog D: ARF, ARF!  

Dog B: Woof, woof…!  

Tasuku: Hey, that tickles. Haha. Here. Good boy.  

Kazunari: (Tax is smiling from ear to ear~. What a rare expression we don’t usually get to see!)  

-pause-  

Kazunari: Ha, they were all so cute~. Tax with the dogs was super cute too. It was relaxing and I got to see something great!  

Tasuku: …I’m not a spectacle.  

Kazunari: But you know what they say! Good people are liked by animals! The doggies could totally tell, wouldn’t you say~?  

Tasuku: …I don’t know about that.  

Kazunari: Ahaha. Just take the compliment, will ya~! Ah, look. There’s a merch corner! There’s plushies and mug cups… All of them look cute~!  

Tasuku: I see… they have stationary too?  

Kazunari: —! Hey, lookie here, Tax! Isn’t this t-shirt cute af!?  

Tasuku: …Uh. The dog is cute, but is the shirt cute…?  

Kazunari: It totally is! But it might look pretty funny if you wore this, huh? Why don’t you wear it as your rehearsal shirt?  

Tasuku: No thanks.  

Kazunari: As expected~. Btw, do you still have some time after this, Tax? I won’t take no for an answer!  

Tasuku: What is happening? …Well, I don’t have any particular plans.  

Kazunari: I’ll treat you to a meal as thanks for coming along with me! I found a restaurant that has some tasty-looking chilled ramen~. You like chilled ramen, right?  

Tasuku: I mean, yeah… I’m surprised you remember.  

Kazunaru: That’s because I thought it was cute that you like chilled ramen! I’ll guide, so you drive! Let’s go!  

Tasuku: Good grief...

*flashback ends*  

Kazunari: After that place started serving chilled ramen, we started going there together every now and then~.  

Tasuku: …Right. I guess that was the trigger. On that note, here’s your present.  

Kazunari: Thanks! “On that note” was a weird segway, but okay! Can I open it?  

Tasuku: Yeah.  

Kazunari: I wonder what could be inside~ ♪

*opens*

Kazunari: —EH!? Isn’t this the t-shirt they were selling at the shiba inu café!  

Tasuku: I remembered you liked it. I passed in front of the shiba inu café and they weren’t selling the exact same design… but I found and bought something similar. Like you said back then, you can wear this t-shirt during rehearsals.  

Kazunari: I’m so happy~! Thanksies! I’ll wear it ‘til it gets all worn out!  

Tasuku: Great. I’m glad if you like it. Since we’ve come all the way here, we might as well have some chilled ramen, right?  

Kazunari: Of course!  

Tasuku: It’s your birthday, so I’ll treat you this time.  

Kazunari: Tax is so generous! Yippee!  

Tasuku: Alright, let’s go in.  

Kazunari: Ah! Hold up. You haven’t said happy birthday to me yet, have you!?  

Tasuku: Ah… …Happy birthday, Miyoshi.  

Kazunari: Thanks, Tax~!

---

previous | next

[wa-royal-tea]

Previous | Beginning | Next

(Transcript under the cut - Click Pics for HQ Version!)

@thebrixtons​​

Author’s Note: The story Alfie is reading to the children is loosely inspired by the Malay Folklore; Legend of Puteri Gunung Ledang

Ginny (on the phone): Can we add fairy lights around the dance platform? Maybe some canopy curtains too?

Catalina: What colour do you want it to be in?

Ginny: Maybe white? Or do you have any other suggestions?

Indirah: I think white is good. Maybe we can hang the fairy lights on the curtains too.

Ginny: Ooh~ Good idea!

Catalina: Alright, do you have any other decorations you want to add?

Ginny: Well, I do have something in mind…

*knock knock*

Rainier (from outside the room): Ginny? Are you in there?

Ginny: Yeah! Don’t come in!

Rainier: Why? What are you doing in there?

Ginny: I’m working on my dress. You can’t see it yet!

Rainier: *chuckles* Okay~ I made strawberry cheesecake for tea time. Come and eat with me when you’re done~

Ginny: Alright. Give me a minute!

Ginny *thinking*: Hmm the wedding dress is almost done. All that is left are the bridesmaid's dresses.

*phone rings*

Alfie: Don’t pick it up.

Catalina: *breathless* It’s Ginny’s ringtone. I think she wants to talk about the wedding preparation.

Alfie: Urgh, cockblocker.

Catalina: *giggles*

Catalina: Hey, Ginny. What’s up?

Catalina: Mhm, I see…

Catalina: Oh, I think I already— *gasps*

Catalina: Wh-what are you doing?

Alfie: Don’t mind me. Continue the call.

Catalina: Alfie— Sorry, Ginny. Can you repeat that?

Catalina: *voice shaking* Y-yeah. I think red is nice.

Catalina: *gasps* I-I’m fine. I…I accidentally dropped something.

Catalina: *breathless* It’s getting late here. C-can we continue the call tomorrow? Yeah, okay bye.

Alfie: *playfully* Done already? I was just getting started.

Catalina: You are in a big trouble, Mr. Frederick.

Alfie: Ooh~ I’m so scared.

Catalina: You’re not sleeping tonight until I’m done with you.

Alfie: Is that a threat, Mrs. Frederick?

Catalina: *scoffs* It’s a promise.

Indirah: Wow, you ordered more than usual. Are you getting the cinnamon roll for Alfie?

Catalina: Huh? This? Nope. They’re mine!

Indirah: Whoa, you must be very hungry. I thought you hate those?

Catalina: I just want to give it a try. They’re not too bad!

Indirah: *chuckles* I’m glad you’re enjoying them then.

[Scene transitions to Lina and Alfie going on an engagement, maybe cutting ribbons for the opening of the children’s library? Alfie reads a book for the children.]

Alfie:…the King fell in love with the Princess after seeing her beauty and asks for her hand in marriage. But the Princess has set several conditions for him before she can agree to his proposal.

Ali: What are the conditions?

Hanna: Yeah! Tell us, Mr. Prince!

Alfie: The Princess’ conditions are; the King must build a golden palace for her to live in and a golden bridge all the way from Mount Belcoast to Mount Silvie for her to walk to and from. She then would also want seven barrels of tears from a young maiden for her to bathe in. And a bowl of the blood of the King’s young heir.

Hope: Whoa! That sounds crazy impossible!

Ali: Right? Why would she give him all that conditions?

Catalina: Well, that’s actually her way of subtly telling him that she doesn’t want to marry him.

Alfie: Exactly. And in the end, the King got the hint and returned to his Kingdom. He’d rather not sacrifice his child just to marry someone.

Hanna: Wah~ The King is a good dad! Just like my appa!

Hope: Tell us more stories, please!

Catalina: You’re going to be a great dad one day, Alfie.

Alfie: Why’d you say that?

Catalina: You’re good with kids. And I know you’re going to be great to our kids.

Catalina: It’s just like a dream I had. You and the children, asleep on the bed after you read them bedtime stories.

Catalina: Just remembering that dream again makes me so happy.

Ginny: *content sigh* This feels like a dream. Everything feels so perfect.

Rainier: Well, if it is. I don’t want to wake up.

Ginny: I can’t wait for our wedding. It’s going to be perfect.

Rainier: I know. I can’t wait too. We’ve waited so long for this.

Ginny: You make me so happy. I don’t deserve you.

Rainier: You do. You deserve everything good in this world.

Rainier: And I’ll continue to make you happy. Until we’re old and grey.