#ship: something like the anticipation of a kiss

[retroaria]

thinking about mafia!dazai x bosses daughter…

suggestive but no smut soo…18+…..

he probably pays the security guards outside your room to keep quiet about his nightly visits. if not that, then we could apply the fact that dazai created the entire security system for the port mafia, so i imagine the whole unit is loyal to him. either way, he does what he has to do.

you’re like a drug he can’t get enough of. the only thing that soothes the undying hatred he has for Mori is that he gets to fuck his daughter right under his nose.

he steps inside, taking off his coat and shoes before making his way over to you on your bed. you’re in exactly the position he wants you in already. stripped down to nothing but the lacy lingerie he bought for you, hair down and tuckered behind your ears, kneeling on your plush comforter. you’re pouting at him because you’re upset with him, though he can’t help but feel like he’s being teased by that face. he practically melts at the way your ears perk up the second you see him open his mouth to speak.

“Sorry ‘donna, you know I hate to keep you waiting…” his words came out with little regard as he made his way over to the bed, letting his attention fall to the way your hands grip the sheets in front of you and how your eyes look him up and down in anticipation. he sits down on the bed beside you, one hand grabbing your chin to keep your eyes on his, the other pulling your hand gently from the sheets and lifting it up to his lips. he plants a chaste kiss to your knuckles, eyes never leaving yours. “Forgive me?”

“You know I always do…” the words left your mouth in a timid fashion as you felt the heat rising to your face from his touch.

not sure if i should expand on this idea or not. this ship is lowkey something i pulled from an oc au i had made for bsd back in high school lolz. maybe in the future…for now, i leave you with nothing but crumbs.

pink dividerz: @anitalenia - don’t remember where i got the sparkles from :(

[dfortrafalgar]

Stain

You're awoken from your slumber by Law, only to find an accident that happened overnight.

Warnings: Female periods

Ever the professional, level-headed man, Law barely blinked twice when he realized what he saw out of the corner of his eye when he carefully slipped out from under his bedsheets, leaving you nestled under the warm blankets in a peaceful slumber.  The light from the gas lamp he kept lit in his quarters overnight barely supplied his retinas any way to take in what he noticed, but he still spotted it.

Right beside your curled up form was a splotch of deep red fluid staining the plain white bedsheets.  A larger stain ran from between your legs and up the back of your shorts.

Law grabbed a small agenda you kept beside the bed which helped you keep track of any of your bodily needs being on a pirate ship away from land for most of your time.  You would always blot the days you got your period with red ink to stay on top of when your cycle would most likely appear.  Just as Law anticipated, your cycle arrived a week earlier than you had initially planned.

He made quick work of marking the day’s small box with a blot of red ink for you.  Tucking away the agenda, he shoved aside any of his current early morning plans and instead placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, lightly jostling you awake.  With a grumble, you tucked your head into your arms, hiding your face from the world in a feeble attempt to get more precious sleep.

“Baby, wake up,” Law said with a hushed tone.

“What do you want,” you mumbled into your pillow.

You made a motion to roll over and face your boyfriend, but the slight movement of your body immediately alerted you to the uncomfortable, wet feeling in your shorts.  You propped yourself up on your elbows, gazing over your body, eyes falling on the obvious blood stain that lay below you.

“Oh my god–”

Law’s hand wrapped around your wrist and beckoned you closer.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“But I ruined your sheets,” you responded with worry laced on your tongue, now fully awake and aware of your situation.  “I didn’t know it would be here so early…”

“You couldn’t have known,” he reassured you with a calm demeanor.  His pulling on your wrist finally caused you to maneuver carefully towards him, allowing Law to scoop his arms under your legs and haul you out of bed.

You cringed at the feeling between your legs.  “I’m so sorry.”  Your arms wrapped around his neck for stability. 

Law responded by placing a kiss to the top of your head.  He used his foot to open his small private bathroom, allowing you to step out of his arms and onto the floor.  Wordlessly, he started the tap of the metal bathtub, letting hot water flow into the basin.  You watched helplessly as he opened a tiny wooden linen cupboard, procuring two towels, an unopened bar of light soap, and a very small bottle of a lavender scented body wash.  

The sight made you crack a smile.  “Where did you get a lavender body wash?”

“Stole it from an inn we stayed at on an island.  Free soap and shampoo can’t be beat,” he muttered.  You snorted, which made your boyfriend smile at you, amused by the situation himself.  He turned back to you after placing the items on the side of the bath.  “You get undressed, I’ll change the bed.” With a frown, you removed your bed shirt.  “You really shouldn't, I'm the one that made the mess.”

“Nah, you can’t make a mess when you’re sleeping.”  Law held out his hand towards you when you removed your ruined shorts and underwear.  You were bare in front of him, knowing that you had absolutely nothing you could hide from him even if you wanted to.  (He had already seen every inch of you.)  

“What?” you asked, confused, looking at his hand.

“I’ll clean your shorts.”

“Huh?  No, they’re disgusting now, I can just throw them out!”

Law grabbed the tiny bottle of body wash from the side of the tub.  Staring at you with his steely gray eyes, he uttered something under his breath that was drowned out by the sound of the gushing water flowing into the basin.  Suddenly, your hand grasped the body wash, and Law’s hand held the cleaner portion of your panties and shorts.  With a smirk, he said, “I’ll clean them.”

“You’re so stubborn,” you retorted with a pout that quickly turned into a pleased smile.  “You treat me so well.”

“Of course I do.  Now get in the bath and clean up.”

“Aye aye, captain,” you mused with a chuckle.  Law rolled his eyes, leaving you to bathe in private, knowing his coy smirk gave away any hint of feigned annoyance.

You rinsed your lower body before settling into the bath, sighing at the warmth flooding across your skin.  The metal wash basin kept the water insulated, which kept you much warmer for longer.  It was pure bliss, steam slowly flowing through the air.  You could easily fall back into a nice sleep like this, but you could already hear Law’s disapproving voice in your ear advising you not to.  ‘Your skin will dry out and you’ll get sores and those will get infected,’ he’d probably say.  He was always so matter-of-fact when it came to anything medical, not that you could really blame him.

With a hum, you poured some of the body wash into your hands and scrubbed it along your body, inhaling the soothing scent that wafted through the steam.  Your boyfriend was really too good to you.  Most people would be revolted waking up to a blood stain from a period in their bed, but Law couldn’t be phased by anything.  It was nature, it was a fact of life.  He gave you no room to be embarrassed, which made you quickly shove down any shame you felt and replace it with relief and glee that you were lucky enough to end up with a man so understanding and empathetic in his own strange ways.

You didn’t know how much time passed, your eyes closed taking in all the warmth you could from the soothing bath, now accompanied by a lingering floral aroma in the air.  You jumped slightly at the sound of the narrow door swinging open with a creak, revealing the lanky form of Law with a brand new change of clothes in his hands.  Tucked in his arm with your clothes was a small box of tampons and a slightly larger plastic bag full of wrapped pads.

“I got them from the crew bathroom, I realized we ran out in here.”  He placed the items on the lid of the tiny toilet that occupied his private bathroom.  “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine, really, just a bit embarrassed still,” you replied.

Law nodded.  “I get it.”  He procured your previous pair of underwear from the pocket of his sweatpants.  With a smug grin, he held them up in his one hand, making the fabric sway back and forth in the air.  “Look, no stain.”

Your eyes widened.  They looked brand new.  “How did you do that?”

The raven-haired man simply shrugged, waggling his fingers on his free hand.  “Little devil fruit abuse.”

You groaned.  “You do too much!”

He shoved them back into his pocket.  “I think I do just enough.  But if you want to pay me back somehow, I wouldn’t say no.”  He flashed a coy wink toward you.

You cupped water in your hands and flung it at him, making him jump backward with a shout.  “You sly bastard!” you chided with a hearty laugh.

Law couldn’t fight his own chuckle that bubbled from his lungs as he perched on the edge of the tub, leaning his elbow on his knee as he dragged his lean fingers through your damp hair.  You leaned into his touch, warmth from the bath water as well as his tender caresses making the blood in your veins spark with boundless affection… until a hefty yawn forced its way out.

You pouted.  “You treat me so well, but you did wake me up.”

“Yeah?” your boyfriend added.

“I’m expecting you to let me sleep in tomorrow to make up for this.”

“No-can-do, sweetpea.  You’re on morning watch.”

The Surgeon of Death quieted your protest with a firm kiss to your lips, his heart hammering behind his sternum as you dropped the subject and smiled against his skin.

[scarletttries]

Write A Kiss Request: Monkey D Luffy (One Piece) x Reader ...a kiss as a promise

(prompt list here) & 2025 Request List - requests open

...a kiss as a promise for Luffy

You had never seen colours quite like it. Deep oranges burning into dark reds, rippled with blues so rich they seemed tinged with purple. It seemed the closer your ship drew to the Grand Line, the more ethereal the whole ocean became. Perched in the crow's nest on the Going Merry as the sunset painted the horizon in deep speckled tones, you wondered how you ever felt at home anywhere else.

It had been a couple of months since you left your island home in search of adventure and intrigue, all sparked by the moment you met a man more extraordinary than the night sky itself: Monkey D Luffy.

It had felt more natural than breathing when you met the famous straw hat captain, the two of you instantly falling in step in a way the rest of the crew chuckled about behind closed doors. Luffy always had such a strange way with people, often chaotic and always unpredictable. But you brought a quiet calm to the pirate that no-one had seen before, giving him a stable harbour in his life's stormy sea, slowing him down enough for him to finally settle and rest. On beautiful nights like tonight Luffy was more drawn to you than ever, the ship's proximity to the fated Grand Line only filling him with need to hold you near.

"Nami thinks we'll be in the waters of the Grand Line in just two more days." You expected Luffy to sound more excited about the announcement than he did, his eyes fixed straight ahead at the sunset as he spoke. His stony gaze betrayed the smile on his face, an air of uncertainty hanging in the space between you, his confidence seeming to falter for the first time.

"And then you're one step closer to being king of the pirates. You'll be achieving your dream soon." You reminded him, his smile softening into something more sincere as you closed the distance between the two of you and let your hand rest on his shoulder. He brought one arm up around your waist, his hand settling on your lower back as he held you and spoke again,

"Do you think someone can have two dreams?" He looked squarely at you as he said the words, the intensity in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine in anticipation.

"I think so. What's on your mind Luffy?" Your free hand swept a lock of hair out of his face, giving you a little more of him to examine as you searched for the meaning behind his cryptic words.

"You'll stay with me, right? When I've achieved my dream and I'm king of the pirates, and you've lived out your dream too. You're not going to go somewhere else after all this, are you? Or can it be somewhere we can go together? What happens after the Grand Line?" His words dripped slowly from his lips like honey, each one a falling grain of sand in the hourglass of time he feared would drive you apart.

It wasn't unusual for Luffy to cling to you like this when you were alone together, his arms encircling you whenever he could. But this the first time he'd voiced his need to cling to you beyond that. A first look to a future that he knew he needed to have you in. From a man who skated through so much by just knowing things would work out somehow, this moment of desperate uncertainty struck your heart with all the meaning it carried. Luffy had a second dream. One he believed in just as strongly as his undeniable destiny as king of the pirates. Luffy's new dream was you.

"I'll still be by your side when all of our adventures are done, Luffy." Your thumb stroked soft stripes over his scarred cheek, his brow dipping in thought as he pondered your reply. Wide brown eyes rose to search yours, deep murky pools of hope and need.

"Do you promise?" It was impossible to say no to a question posed so sweetly, his inner child shining through in these rare moments of vulnerability he saved for only you. You decided to do something you hadn't before, something you hoped would portray the enormity of your affections for him better than words ever could. You leaned forward, hopeful the rest of the crew weren't keeping a watchful eye over their fearless leader, and kissed Monkey D Luffy. It was just a gentle peck, his lips as warm and soft as his heart, the sea around you seeming to settle into a moment of serene silence the moment you touched him. Luffy made no effort to move, his arms lightly locked around your waist as he leant just the slightest bit of weight forwards, just enough to feel his lips press against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as you stood frozen in time, letting the endless well of love and admiration you have for your captain spill out from your heart.

When you blinked your eyes open the sky had grown darker, and you couldn't tell if a second or an hour had passed as the two of you embraced. You pulled away and rested your forehead against his, breathlessly whispering the words he needed to hear,

"I promise."

[clericofmystra]

disgruntledturtle replied to this post:

Wait, does your cleric know at this point that her god is Gale's ex? lol

She very much does not know, so nearly every interaction between them just teems with hilarious dramatic irony. Gale's approval ticks up every time she prays to Mystra, too, so they get along extremely well, but lo, the secrets!

She does find out he's devoted to Mystra in his own way and strongly approves of his monologue about how Mystra is the greatest ever, replying, "You speak a great truth. No other god comes close to her divinity." He then says, "I see you understand."

So they have their very doomed little mutual Mystra appreciation society happening, but she's oblivious to Gale's true history with Mystra.

[clericofmystra]

Reblogging to chart my descent into Avernus absurdity!

It's not every day that I'm like "wow, self, that was a genius idea of yours" but romancing Gale as a cleric of Mystra? 11/10 concept honestly.

More later!

[seresinhangmanjake]

Do You Love?

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x wife!reader

Summary: Feyd is soft for his wife and only wants to know if she loves him. His wife just wants him to come home.

Notes/Warnings: fluff and a little angst and very light smut (still 18+), softy-soft Feyd, probably could do with a wedding prequel if people were interested, im sure there are typos. I think that's it.

Words: 1400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

He hates being away from you. Can't bear it. It takes less than two days for withdrawal from your lack of presence to settle in, and when it hits, it hits hard. The luminescence of your smile that threatens the darkness within him on his worst days; the delicate suppleness of your skin that introduced him to the softness and warmth of a human body; the specific quality and tone of your voice when you whisper and whimper and moan in his ear—he needs it. He needs you. He craves you until the second you’re in his arms again. He just wishes he could understand if you feel the same. He wishes he could know if you love him as much as he does you.

When you came into his life, you were a pawn for peace. A gift from one Great House to another. A reluctant bride who couldn’t choke back her tears on her wedding day. He’ll never forget the saltiness that lingered on his lips after the kiss that bound you to him forever. He can still feel the pang in his heart from seeing you finch when he guided the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder. 

It took ages for you to shed your fear; to allow him to hold you and kiss you and be inside of you, but those many months of ‘two steps forward, one step back’ have left him in a paralyzing state of identity crisis and uncertainty. You’ve turned him into a man who begs for scraps of reassurance that you care for him rather than a man who shows no mercy for love; a man so preoccupied with thoughts of his wife’s affection that not even his enemies are granted his full attention as he watches the light drain from their eyes. 

From the moment he leaves, he anticipates his return so you can quell his agitation, at least to some degree. The same words echo in his head each time he steps off a Harkonnen ship to search for you—hug me, hold me, kiss me, let my body inside of yours, tell me you love me—and in recent months you haven’t failed to do those things, with the exception of the last request. The day you tell him you love him will be the day he stops fearing you'll eventually grow bored with him. On that day, he’ll be happy, at peace. He’ll be unafraid of what his future with you will bring.

—

Reader POV

He often goes to Arrakis for a week or two, that’s not new. He must monitor things and fight Fremen when necessary. However, this time was different. There was something foreign in his eyes after he kissed your palm and boarded his ship to depart. Sadness? Pain? Worry? All three? You didn’t know, but it terrified you from how little he tried to disguise it. With each departure, it’s seemed his mood has worsened and you can't decipher its cause.

Now, ten days later, your fingernails are worn to nubs and dark circles have found home under your eyes from nightmares interrupting your sleep. They’re different every night but they always end with Feyd not coming home to you, and you don’t know how to cope. You tell yourself you’re crazy, that there’s no possibility of him being taken down with a Fremen knife or gobbled up by a sandworm or blown to bits from his ship getting shot out of the sky. He’s too smart, too quick, too trained for such things to claim his life. At the same time, however, the last person whose death you dreamt of was your mother’s, and while it’s rare your dreams are prophetic, that one came to fruition not five days later. Who is to say your dreams of your husband are not the same?

But you can’t lose Feyd, not when it feels like you just got him. When you married, your dread of navigating a new husband and life on Giedi Prime—both of which have a reputation for being cold and desolate and harsh—crippled your ability to see him for who he is. It’s only been the last few months that you’ve let yourself love and understand him, and you can’t imagine a reality in which you wake one morning knowing you will never have him again. You wouldn’t survive it. 

But you won't have to, because he's fine, perfectly safe—that's what you tell yourself. He told you he wouldn’t be away long and he wouldn’t say that unless he believed it, right?

Then again, believing he would be home soon doesn’t mean fate agrees. What if he's already gone? Wait, no. No, he wouldn't do that to you. He'll be home because he always makes it home. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave you. You nod to yourself, swallowing hard. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave.

--

Your body curls into the first touch of warmth you’ve had in a week and a half as a heavy weight rests in the dip of your waist and tugs you against a solid form. Plush lips ghost your temple. A heartbeat thrums in your ear and you feel the rise and fall of a chest. 

Oh, you like this dream. He’s so real in this dream. It’s the first dream where death is not at his heels.

“You don’t know how I miss you,” he mutters into your ear. Stands of your loose hair brush back from your face. “How unbearable it is.”

His voice is so clear, so beautiful and vivid that it’s almost like he’s really with you. Humming contently, you huddle further into him. “Then stop leaving me,” you mumble.

Breath catches in his chest, no longer moving at a steady rhythm. “You're awake?”

Your brows knit—that's not a very ‘dream-like’ question; it threatens your lovely illusion—and then your eyes snap open. 

“Feyd?” His nose is an inch from yours. Your hand raises to cup his cheek, just to see if he is real, and you gasp at how warm his skin is under your palm. “You're here,” you cry, quickly pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him. 

You press your lips to his, hard. A whimper is pulled from your throat when he parts his mouth so you can get a taste of his tongue. Yes, he’s definitely real. 

Hands trail down your back to your ass, squeezing two handfuls of flesh and pushing your pelvis down onto his. He’s already hard and thick and pressing into you, the matching thin material of your nightgown and his sleep pants doing a pathetic job of maintaining any sort of barrier. 

Feyd slowly drags the ink-toned silk up the curves and dimples of your body until it pools at your waist. Fingers graze your skin as they move lower to slide through your slick bare folds, and at his touch, your brain goes absolutely fuzzy. You’re unashamedly desperate, refusing to take any longer to get what you need, but when you finally free him from his pants and he thrusts up into you, you both find yourselves stopping. The kiss breaks and you simply breathe in each other’s breaths as he stays nestled deep inside you. 

Your forehead falls to his. A fresh tear that you hadn’t noticed in your eye lands on his cheek. “You're ok,” you gently whimper, reassuring yourself of his safety. His nose nudges yours.

“When am I not?” he whispers as he catches the next tear with his thumb before it drops from your lower lashes. 

“In my nightmares.”

His brow pinches in curiosity, cock twitching within your walls. “You dream about me?” 

You lightly nod. “I thought this was a dream.”

“Why?”

“Because I had a sickening feeling you weren’t going to make it back this time. I know it was a routine trip, but I just couldn’t shake it,” you say. “And that would’ve killed me, Feyd. I love you.”

Feyd sucks in a short stream of air as his hips slightly buck up against yours. “You love me?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you exhale, riding the little high of pleasure that came from the sharp involuntary shift of his hips. “I was so scared to be right.”

Feyd's arms tighten around you and he tilts his chin up to connect your lips. Kisses travel along the line of your jaw and down the length of your neck. His tongue dips into the hollow of your throat. 

“I love you,” he tells you.

Your stuffy chuckle settles into a grin. “I know you do.”

---

tag: @avidreader73

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Little surprise

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Max one-shot inspired by the recent news, you should have seen my face yesterday when the first thing I saw was the photo on insta, I just know that Max is going to be the best dad :) If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

You’d been carrying the secret for days now, and it felt as though your heart could burst every time you looked at him. Max, with his carefree smile and bright, sparkling eyes, had no idea that your world had shifted entirely. Every night, you’d lie next to him, your hand resting protectively over your stomach, wondering how you’d tell him that the two of you were about to become three.

It had to be perfect.

The idea came to you one quiet morning while watching a race replay. Max had barely opened his eyes when he muttered something about karting, his first love, before pulling you close and falling back asleep. That was it. You’d tell him in a way that connected to the thing he loved most—apart from you.

For days, you planned in secret. You found the tiniest little kart online and had it shipped as quickly as possible. When it arrived, you giggled as you placed it carefully in the living room, tying a big red bow around it for effect. It was perfect.

The hard part was waiting for the right moment. You wanted it to be a day when you were both relaxed, away from the chaos of the world, just the two of you. So, one sunny afternoon, you suggested lunch at your favorite café.

The day was as perfect as you could have hoped. Max was in an especially good mood, teasing you about how you always ordered the same thing and stealing fries from your plate like a mischievous child. He talked about an upcoming race, his plans, and how much he missed the simpler days of karting.

“You’re quiet today,” he noted, nudging your arm gently as the two of you walked back to the car.

“Just enjoying the moment,” you said, slipping your hand into his.

He grinned, lifting your hand to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles. “I like that.”

The drive home was filled with soft music and the kind of comfortable silence you loved. As you neared your apartment, your nerves kicked in. Was this the right way to tell him? What if he didn’t react the way you imagined? What if—

“Hey, you okay?” Max’s voice pulled you from your spiral. He parked the car and turned to look at you, his blue eyes filled with concern.

You nodded quickly, plastering on a reassuring smile. “Yeah, just tired.”

Inside the apartment, you stayed a step behind him, your heart pounding. As he kicked off his shoes and walked into the living room, he froze.

“Uh…” His head tilted, his gaze locking on the tiny kart in the middle of the room. “Did you… buy a toy kart?”

You stepped closer, biting your lip to keep from laughing at his confusion. He circled the kart, inspecting it like it might suddenly explain itself.

“Why is there a bow on it? Did someone send this to you?” He turned to look at you, his brows furrowed.

You took a deep breath, feeling your chest tighten with anticipation. “No, it’s for you.”

“For me?” He looked even more puzzled now. “What am I supposed to do with this? It’s tiny!”

“It’s not for now,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you struggled to contain your emotions. “It’s for later.”

Max’s confusion deepened. He stared at you, the kart, then back at you. “Later?”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “Max… I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. His mouth fell open, his eyes wide as he tried to process your words.

“What?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“I’m pregnant,” you repeated, a tear slipping down your cheek as you smiled at him. “We’re going to have a baby.”

The shock on his face slowly melted into something softer, more tender. His eyes glistened, and a disbelieving smile spread across his lips.

“You’re serious?” he asked, stepping closer to you, his voice filled with awe.

You nodded, unable to speak as emotions overwhelmed you.

He let out a soft, breathless laugh before pulling you into his arms, holding you so tightly you thought you might break. “A baby,” he murmured against your hair. “We’re having a baby.”

When he pulled back, his hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “I can’t believe it. You… you’re incredible. How long have you known?”

“A few days,” you admitted with a small laugh. “I wanted to find the perfect way to tell you.”

He glanced back at the kart and chuckled, shaking his head. “This is perfect. It’s… amazing. You’re amazing.”

His hands dropped to your stomach, his fingers splaying over the fabric of your dress. “There’s really a baby in there?” he asked, his voice full of wonder.

“There really is,” you confirmed, placing your hands over his.

He was quiet for a moment, just staring at you, before a grin broke across his face. “I can’t wait to meet them. I can’t wait to be a dad.”

His excitement was contagious. You laughed as he scooped you up and spun you around, his joy filling the room like sunlight.

The rest of the day was spent talking about everything—the future, names, the nursery, and all the ways he wanted to be the best dad in the world. Max couldn’t stop touching your stomach, even though he knew it was too soon to feel anything.

That night, as you lay in bed, his arms wrapped protectively around you, he whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?” you asked, your voice sleepy.

“For giving me this,” he said, his hand resting gently over your stomach. “For making me the happiest guy in the world.”

You smiled, feeling his love radiating around you. “You’re going to be an amazing dad, Max.”

“And you’re going to be the best mom,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

As you drifted off to sleep, you knew that your little family was already filled with so much love, and you couldn’t wait for the journey ahead.

[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Twenty-One} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Damon Salvatore x F!Reader} Request {Anon}: This is for your Kinktober event! I've had this idea floating around since your story with Damon S and Elijah. Threesome/Cumplay/Squirting Fem!Reader getting taken to Paris by D & E only for Elijah to cum inside them and Damon eats it out. This is pure filth, I know! Love your writing!

♡♡♡ Omggg, YOUR MIND!!!!! Holy hell this idea is perfection. First, I'm so thrilled you were inspired by Respect! It's based on one of my favorite Elijah moments from TVD (& favorite ship) IF ONLY THE WRITERS WERE BRAVE ENOUGH. Second, because I love you & your beautiful mind... YOU GET A CERTFICATE. This isn't a greedy amount of kinks... but in the idea.... well... (see bottom of post for your reward) ♡♡♡

3.5k words - Kinks: very very very bisexual, threesome, squirting, you and Damon worshipping Elijah (duh!), Elijah being dom, oral sex (m & f receiving) &&& lots of filth ...

When Damon insisted on you wearing a blindfold as you exited the plane, you knew something was up. You let him take your hand, leading you out of the cabin and down the steps. As you felt a cool breeze tickle your legs and a new smell fill your nose, you frowned.

"Can I take this off now?" You asked, referring to the blindfold.

"No," said the voice of Elijah. You could hear the smirk on his lips, and the fact that you couldn't see him made you want to take it off even more. "Patience, my love."

You grumbled a bit, nearly tripping down the last step. But you felt the firm grip of Damon's hands on your hips, and his body behind yours.

As soon as your feet hit the ground, he took a few steps away, and you heard two car doors open.

"In," said Damon. "I'm in the back with you."

"So bossy," you teased.

You slid in, Damon's hands helping guide you into the backseat. Elijah was already sitting next to you, his arm draped around your shoulders. His warmth seeped through his suit jacket, and you relaxed into his touch.

Damon got in next to you and closed the door.

"I can't wait to be alone with you both," you whispered, nuzzling into Elijah's neck.

"Don't worry, love," said Elijah, kissing the top of your head. "We have a lot planned for you."

Damon placed a hand on your thigh, sliding it up your leg. Your skirt had bunched up from sitting down, and Damon's fingers brushed your bare skin.

"Are we really doing this now?" You asked.

"Why not?" Damon chuckled, but before he could go further, Elijah’s grip tightened subtly on your shoulder.

"Later," he said, his tone firm, but there was a promise hidden in his words. Damon sighed in mock frustration, pulling his hand away, but you could sense the unspoken exchange between the two of them. The silent communication they shared only heightened the anticipation, the feeling of being wanted by both of them.

You were tempted to take Damon’s hand and slide it back to where you needed it most, but the teasing was part of the game. And you loved the game.

The rest of the drive was filled with a charged silence, your senses heightened by the darkness behind the blindfold and the warmth of both men pressed close to you. The car eventually stopped, and Damon helped you out, your fingers clutching his as you carefully followed him across uneven cobblestones.

The sounds around you, the distant chatter in French, the soft hum of city life, gave away your location before they even removed the blindfold. You were in Paris, the city of love, and your heart leaped in excitement.

Finally, you stopped. You heard keys jingling, a lock turning, and then Elijah’s hands were on you, slipping the blindfold away.

“Welcome,” he said softly, his voice filled with affection. “To our little getaway.”

The room before you was luxurious, the golden hues of the décor bathed in the fading light from a large window overlooking the Eiffel Tower. It felt like a dream, one they had crafted just for you.

You spun to face them, a broad grin spreading across your lips. "Paris!" you squealed, leaping into Elijah’s arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Thank you!”

Elijah chuckled, catching you easily. “Only the best for you, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice a deep, comforting hum in your ear.

Damon was speaking to the staff in French, ordering room service and more than a few bottles of champagne.

"What would you like to do first?" Elijah asked.

"Well," you started, walking over to the window. You glanced out, admiring the view. The sun was setting just past the city, making everything glow. "First, I'd like to enjoy a bottle of champagne. Then… maybe, a tour?"

"Whatever the lady wants," said Damon, grinning.

Elijah kissed your forehead and excused himself to the bathroom, and as soon as the door shut behind him, Damon was in front of you, kissing your neck.

“Oh, hello,” you laughed, your hands finding their way to the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric.

“Hi,” Damon whispered against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. His hands were on your hips, tugging you back against him. “I was thinking we might stay in tonight... just the three of us.”

You turned in his arms, the tension between you palpable. “I like the way you think,” you murmured, brushing your lips against his.

Without wasting another second, Damon pulled you to the bed, laying you down on the plush mattress, his hands never leaving your body. He crawled over you, pressing his lips to yours, a gentle moan escaping his mouth. You reached down, trying to work the button on his jeans.

You barely heard the door open, but Elijah cleared his throat, and you and Damon pulled apart.

"Don't stop on my account," he smirked, and Damon gave him a look, which made Elijah chuckle. "You can keep going."

You grinned, but before you could pull Damon back to you, there was a knock at the door.

"Damn it," groaned Damon.

"That would be our food," Elijah said.

Damon pouted and rolled off you, and you stifled a laugh. Elijah moved to answer the door, tipping the delivery man generously and pulling a cart filled with food and drink inside.

Champagne flutes were filled, bubbles rising in the golden liquid as the three of you clinked glasses. You took a long sip, savoring the moment. The sunset outside bathed the room in a soft glow, and for a moment, everything was perfect. Still, warm, full of anticipation.

Elijah’s gaze darkened as he looked at you, the intensity of his stare making heat rise in your chest. Damon, always quick to follow suit, watched you with that familiar mischievous glint in his eye.

You placed your glass down, feeling the charge in the air shift. Elijah’s hand slipped under your chin, guiding you into a kiss. His mouth was firm, insistent, tasting of champagne. His control was intoxicating, and you melted into him, giving in to the feeling.

When his lips left yours, you barely had time to miss the taste of him before Damon’s mouth was on you. His hands roamed your body, sending sparks of pleasure through your skin.

"Mm," Elijah chuckled, his voice low and teasing. "I do love it when you're greedy."

"I want this off," you whined, tugging at his suit jacket impatiently. "Now."

With a grin, he stepped back, slowly slipping out of his clothes, revealing the toned, muscular body underneath. Your eyes darted to Damon, raising your eyebrows in silent challenge.

"I'm not taking anything off until you do," Damon teased, his gaze smoldering.

You smiled, getting on your knees on the bed, and slipped your dress over your head, tossing it to the floor. The cool air grazed your skin, but the way their eyes lingered on you, like they were ready to devour you, sent warmth flooding through your body.

Damon followed suit, stripping off his shirt and jeans. You leaned back, watching as they undressed, their bodies a tantalizing display of strength and desire.

“I think the lady likes what she sees," Elijah smirked, his eyes dark with intent.

"You could say that," Damon agreed, his gaze drifting over Elijah's body before locking on yours. The hunger between them was palpable, and seeing it unfold before you made your pulse race. 

Elijah stepped closer to Damon, his hand pressing against his chest, guiding him back onto the bed. Damon grinned up at him, and Elijah bent down, their lips crashing together in a rough, heated kiss. It was raw and unrestrained, their desire for each other on full display. 

Without breaking the kiss, Elijah's hand reached out, tangling in your hair, pulling you in with a growl. 

"Come here," he commanded, his voice husky.

You moved closer, and he claimed your lips with the same intensity, his kiss demanding and unapologetic. His tongue pushed into your mouth, sending a wave of need through you that made you moan. When he pulled back, his eyes flicked between you and Damon, a wicked gleam lighting up his face.

"On your knees," he ordered, the edge in his voice impossible to ignore.

You and Damon exchanged a quick, knowing glance before grinning and obeying. You both sank to the floor as Elijah, ever the gentleman, threw down a pillow for your knees. You shot him a grateful smile, placing a quick kiss on his thigh.

Standing tall before you, his erection just inches from your face, Elijah looked down at you both, the power of the moment simmering in his eyes. You and Damon leaned forward together, tongues flicking out to lick up and down his length, your mouths meeting as you worshiped him. 

The sensation of Damon's lips alongside the heat of Elijah's cock on your tongue had you whimpering in arousal, your body aching for more.

"Oh, love," Elijah purred, his fingers tightening in your hair as he guided his cock deeper into your mouth. "Is someone feeling needy?"

You nodded, eyes wide and desperate, and Elijah chuckled softly, clearly relishing the control he held. The feeling of him filling your mouth made your core throb with desire.

"What about you?" Elijah asked, turning his gaze to Damon.

"Always," Damon replied, his smirk wicked as ever.

Elijah shifted, pulling you off him with a firm hand in your hair, making you whimper in protest at the sudden emptiness. His hand found Damon's hair next, pulling him closer. "Your turn. Take what you need."

Damon wasted no time, taking Elijah's cock into his mouth with a practiced ease, his head bobbing up and down as he worked him with skilled precision. You watched in awe, your arousal growing as the wet sounds of his lips sliding over Elijah’s shaft filled the air.

Not wanting to be left out, you leaned in and kissed along Elijah’s length, your tongue tracing the path Damon had just left, meeting his in the process. Your hand slipped down to fondle Elijah's balls, rolling them gently between your fingers as you both continued to worship him.

The way Elijah groaned, his head thrown back in pleasure, only spurred you on. The tension built in the room, palpable and intense.

"Enough," Elijah growled, his voice ragged as he pushed you both away.

You and Damon fell back, sitting on the floor, gazing up at him, your chests rising and falling as you caught your breath.

"So perfect," Elijah murmured, his gaze sweeping over you both with clear admiration. He ran his thumb over your lips before leaning down to kiss you, the weight of his dominance ever-present. His hand curled around the back of your neck, and with a playful shove, he pushed you back onto the bed.

You landed with a breathless laugh, looking up at him, your body buzzing with anticipation. His devilish grin made your pulse quicken as he turned his attention back to Damon. Their mouths met again in another fierce kiss, their bodies grinding against each other, and the sight was intoxicating.

Unable to resist, you slid a hand between your legs, teasing yourself as you watched them. A soft moan escaped your lips, drawing their attention.

Both Elijah and Damon broke the kiss, turning their gaze to you. The look in their eyes was nothing short of predatory.

"Look at you," Elijah teased, his voice dripping with desire. "Already so desperate."

You bit your lip, spreading your legs wider, showing off the wet patch on your panties. "What do you think, Damon?" Elijah asked, not breaking eye contact with you. "Should we give her what she wants?"

Damon's eyes darkened with lust as they swept over you. "I think we should have a taste," he said with a wicked grin.

The two of them crawled onto the bed, one on either side of you. They leaned in, their tongues lapping at your breasts. Elijah pulled your nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting, and Damon's hand drifted down, slipping under the wet fabric. You gasped as his fingers brushed over your clit, teasing you. You moaned and pushed against him, desperate for more. Your eyes wide and desperate, locked with his.

Elijah’s lips ghosted down your stomach, the heat of his breath sending shivers across your skin. His stubble tickled as he moved lower, replacing Damon's hand to slide your panties off. Lifting your legs onto his shoulders, he dipped down, and the warm sensation of his tongue circling your clit made you moan, arching your back toward him.

Damon bent down, capturing your lips, muffling your cries. His tongue slipped into your mouth, his hand cupping your face. You felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening in your core, the sensation growing stronger and stronger. You reached down, your fingers tangling in Elijah's hair, pulling him closer. You rocked against his face, and his arm wrapped around your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin.

Damon pulled back, his hands pinning your arms to the bed. He held you down, watching as you writhed under their touch. His bright blue eyes wild and lustful.

The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing through your body as you cried out Elijah's name. Pleasure rushed through you, leaving your thighs slick and Elijah’s face glistening. Damon released your arms, chuckling as he looked at Elijah's usually impeccable appearance, now messy with your wetness.

"That's a good look for you," Damon teased, leaning in to lick Elijah’s chin. Elijah shot him a dark, hungry look before grabbing Damon and pulling him into a rough kiss.

You sat up, watching the two of them. Elijah pulled away, and his gaze snapped back to you

"Lie down," he ordered. "And spread your legs."

You obeyed without hesitation, anticipation thrumming through you. Elijah's hand slipped between Damon's thighs, stroking him slowly. His touch made Damon moan, his hips jerking in response.

Elijah glanced back at you, smirking. "Do you see how much he needs me?"

"Yes," you breathed, watching them hungrily.

"And I need you," Elijah said, his voice softening as he turned his attention back to you. He pushed Damon onto the bed next to you, crawling between your legs. His eyes met yours, full of intensity and adoration.

"Please," you whispered, lifting your hips to him.

Elijah positioned himself at your entrance, pushing into you, inch by inch. His mouth found yours, claiming it in a hungry kiss. Damon watched from the side, his own hand stroking his length.

You wrapped your legs around Elijah's waist, pulling him deeper, the delicious feeling of being filled by him making you cry out in pleasure. He moved with slow, deep thrusts, leaning back to watch your face, savoring every reaction.

His thumb circled your clit, his touch light and teasing, and the sensation made you arch your back, desperate for more. You turned your head, finding Damon's lips, kissing him deeply as you clung to him. Damon chuckled against your lips, positioning himself so that you could take him into your mouth. You moaned around him, tasting the salty pre-cum, sucking him greedily.

Damon groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair. He held you there, fucking your mouth. You took him as deep as you could, gagging slightly, the sensation only making you want him more.

"That's it, sweetheart," Elijah cooed, his thumb rubbing faster circles on your clit. "Show him how good you can take it."

Elijah's praise, mixed with the taste of Damon's cock, the feeling of him filling your mouth, was too much, and you came again, shaking and moaning around him.

As your body spasmed, Damon pressed his hips up, pushing himself deeper into your mouth.

"Fuck," he growled, his hand gripping your hair.

You felt him tense, the heat of his release pouring down your throat. You swallowed around him, sucking him clean, looking up at him through hazy, half-lidded eyes.

He grinned down at you, panting. "Good girl."

Elijah's pace was growing erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you closer, his hips slamming against yours. He was letting out these sexy little moans and grunts, his jaw clenched in concentration.

"That's it, love," he growled, his voice rough and low. "Come for me again."

He shifted, leaning back and thrusting harder. The new angle sent waves of pleasure through you, and you came with a cry, clinging to him as he fucked you through your release.

Elijah's eyes locked with yours, the intensity of his gaze taking your breath away, he pulled you to him, crushing his lips to yours. His hands squeezed your ass, and he thrust deep inside, bouncing you on his lap. His grip was so tight, his body trembling, the sound of him groaning against your lips filled the air. You could feel him twitching inside you, his orgasm washing over him, the feeling of his cum spilling into you making your toes curl.

Elijah pulled away, gently setting your legs back down on the bed. He walked over to the table, pouring a glass of champagne, taking a sip, watching you and Damon with a pleased look on his face.

Damon looked down at the mess between your legs, grinning. "Looks like someone enjoyed herself."

You giggled, your eyes half-lidded, a satisfied smile on your face. You reached up and cupped his beautiful face, his bright eyes twinkling. The blue seemed to grow a shade darker, his smile turning devilish, and you felt his hands on you, his touch electric.

"I don't think I'm quite done with you yet," he murmured, his breath hot on your ear.

You let out a gasp as he moved between your legs, kissing along your inner thighs, his fingers teasing your opening. He lapped up Elijah's cum, his tongue circling your sensitive clit.

"Fuck," you moaned, reaching down and pulling his hair.

Elijah watched for a moment, entranced by the sight of Damon's mouth on your cunt. He moved over to the bed, sitting behind you, his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you in place.

Damon continued, his tongue and lips working magic on your pussy, the soft sounds he made vibrating against your sensitive skin.

Elijah kissed along your shoulder, his hands roaming over your breasts, gently pinching and twisting your nipples.

"Look at him," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. "So eager to please you."

You looked down at Damon, his gaze locked with yours. His tongue was lapping at your clit, his mouth sucking and licking.

"Doesn't he look pretty like that?" Elijah asked. "So focused on making you feel good."

You nodded, whimpering as the tension built inside you, your hands twisting in the sheets, pulling and gripping them.

"You're going to come for us again, aren't you?" Elijah murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "You're going to come so hard. So fucking loud."

His words pushed you over the edge, and you came, screaming and bucking your hips, pushing yourself against Damon's mouth.

Your body trembled as the pleasure washed over you, wave after wave, leaving you panting and shaking. Elijah's grip tightened around you, holding you close.

Damon licked you clean, his tongue lapping up every drop. When he was finished, he kissed the inside of your thigh, his lips lingering on the soft skin.

"That's my good girl," Elijah cooed, holding you as the last of your tremors faded away.

You collapsed into his arms, the exhaustion and satisfaction taking over. You lay there for a few moments, basking in the afterglow. Damon laid down beside you, his arm draped over your stomach.

"I don't think I can move," you muttered, closing your eyes and resting your head on Elijah's chest.

Elijah chuckled, running his fingers through your hair. "Then don't."

You drifted off, wrapped in the warmth and comfort of their bodies, the sound of their breathing filling the air.

Paris was everything you could have hoped for, and more. But the best part was sharing the experience with them. This was a perfect night, and it was only just the beginning.

{<- kinktober masterlist}

[clare-875]

More Than Enough (Law x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Law x Female Reader Summary: Law hates it when you overwork yourself, but you don't think you're doing enough. Warnings: Angst/Fluff, Comfort, Soft Law [One Piece Masterlist] _____

You are on the brink of sleep.

It tempts you as you feel yourself lulled between reality and your dreams, but you can't stop. Just one more report. That was what you had told yourself hours ago. It led to one more task, one more bit of paperwork, one more duty; one more. You didn't know why you felt the need to force yourself into this vicious cycle but you also couldn't get yourself to end it. It builds within you: the hope to be useful, to serve as a member of the Heart Pirates, to earn your place beside your crew. You were strong, but not the strongest; you were talented but not the most gifted; you were smart but never the smartest. You felt as though you stood by pillars of strength and such capable companions. You felt like you owed something in return. So, even when members of the crew murmured good night to you, concern lingering in their eyes as they walked by, you stayed as you always did. Only this time you knew you were pushing your limits with sleep. You knew you were desperately in need of rest, especially after a hectic day of fighting and treating injuries, but you kept at it. Just one more.

Law entered his sleeping chambers exhausted as he always was. He was craving sleep but he was also craving you. Your gentle hands that pushed past his dark hair, easing the constant pounding of tension. Your warm embrace that lulled away lingering thoughts that kept him from rest. Your soft kisses that made the brutal day worth it. You were the only thing that could get Law to relax enough to find some peace, so his heart, which he thought would never brim with the love that it did now, thrums in anticipation. The anticipation of you. But when Law opens the door to the room you both shared, instead of the relief that comes with finally finding solace, he is met with utter dissatisfaction. Law's sharp eyes travel the length of the room, but he finds the bed as untouched as it was in the morning. Most importantly, he saw the blatant lack of the figure he had hoped to see.

You weren't there.

Law feels sharp irritation ring through his head as he groans in frustration before turning away from his room, knowing you were probably overworking yourself; Knowing you wouldn't come to bed unless he came to get you; Knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep unless you were by his side. Law travelled the cool hallways of the Polar Tang, each step bridled with his exhaustion. Normally you would be the one chiding his lack of sleep but it wasn't uncommon for him to do the same. "[y/n]" He murmurs when he finally opens the door to the room where you had been working away. You turn, your weary eyes wide at the sight of Law before shaking off your surprise and turning to meet your partner. "Law, is everything alright?" No, Law wants to reply, no everything is not alright, why weren't you in bed? He can't sleep without you. But Law forces his childish words to the back of his mind and approaches you to where you sat.

He sees your writing on countless pieces of paperwork; those on supplies for the ship, maintenance, an odd medical report here and there. He sees the multitude of sticky notes around you filled with suggestions that could help the crew and advance the Polar Tang. He sees notebooks filled with your handwriting on an abundance of ways you could advance your strength in battle. But most importantly, he sees you. Not just the dark imprints under your eyes and every yawn you stifle. Not just the way you fight sleep's echoes or force a hand through your hair to ease your headache. Law sees you trying. He sees your devotion to the crew, he sees your efforts literally piled around him, he sees your inner turmoil that you try to desperately hide from him; from the crew. He knows of your insecurity, he has known since you graced him with your presence and joined him on his journey across the seas. You think you're not enough, but what you didn't know was that you were enough.

You didn't need to lose sleep just to prove that to him.

You didn't notice how much you helped the crew by your mere presence. In ways that Law could not comfort, you thrived. Each day that the crew faced major loss or grief, you were there pushing away your feelings for the sake of them; you were the light. Every time a tired member of the crew sluggishly complained about the tasks they had to complete, you would jump for the opportunity to help. Every small bit of work you did for the crew, helped in such enormous ways, each supporting act of you on the battlefield saved more lives than Law could count. Most of all, you were Law's literal lifeline. He doesn't think that his life would be as vibrant as it was until you showed him colours, devotion; love. It was cheesy and he knew it, he also knew he would never say it straight-forward as he wanted to with you. He also knew he was a hypocrite; a routine overworker himself. But he also knew you.

You needed rest.

Law grabs your hand gently but firmly on the page you wrote on and doesn't listen to your confused and murmured words before pulling you to your feet. "Wait Law, I just need to-" But he cuts you off before you can continue. "It's late, and you've done enough already." He turns to you and you are met with his sharp gaze. "How many times have I told you, you don't need to do everything yourself." You roll your eyes despite the seriousness in his gaze. "Like you can talk, I'm surprised you actually want to go to bed before dawn." Law sighs deeply as he pulls you through the hallways before reaching your shared chambers. "That's different, I'm the Captain." You keep up your facade, but you feel the sinking weight of his words within you. That's right. You think. But what am I? Suddenly, your sleep-deprived state makes you lose the control you usually have over your emotions as you let out a quiet but snarky comment; one that Law hears muttered under your breath; one that betrays you of your thoughts. "I know that. I just wanted to be useful, to be enough for the crew, is that so bad?"

Law turns to you and instead of frustration you are met with a more gentle gaze; one you would only see pointed at you. "[y/n], you are more than enough." You look up to him then, eyes wide at his delicate words, those of sentiment you would never hear him say, but he has turned away as though those words were obvious; like it was a fact. "It's the damn crew that needs to pick up their slack. If I hear that you did their jobs for them again, I swear to god-" You feel it then, the rush of relief and hope that comes with your boyfriend's passive but blunt words. You go to him before he can continue, feeling the beginning of tears in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. Instead, Law is startled by your swift embrace but returns it after several moments and caresses the depths of your hair. He feels you slack against him then, as he pulls you to his bed, cradled in his arms. That is, until you look up to him, tired but glossy gaze all for him to see. "Thank you Law," you mutter against him, but Law says nothing but gives a roll of his eyes.

In the next moments that pass you both do not even realise when sleep takes your exhausted states. The crew do not dare wake you when the two of you sleep in until late the next day, held in the assurance of the other's embrace.

[msboookesh]

cling-csc

Pairing: idol!scoups x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, cute jealous and sulky scoups, established relationship

Synopsis: Seungcheol's jealousy about y/n's fictional celebrity suitors meets its match when y/n finds his frustration too adorable.

a/n: happy birthday general leader!

୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🧁

One balmy afternoon in Y/n’s cozy apartment, sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. Y/n lounged comfortably on the couch, a soft smile gracing her lips as she watched her boyfriend, Seungcheol, with a mixture of amusement and admiration.

Seungcheol, perched on the other end of the couch, had his toned legs crossed and his expression was one of adorable irritation. He was intently scrolling through his phone, his brows furrowed as he read the various public opinions about Y/n and her supposed type of men. The comments were a mix of speculation and playful shipping, reflecting the K-entertainment industry's tendency to speculate about the personal lives of celebrities.

“Can you believe this?” Seungcheol muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. “They’re saying you’d look good with all these other guys. Just because you’re pretty and young doesn’t mean you have to be paired up with everyone.”

Y/n's eyes sparkled with mischief as she observed Seungcheol’s pouting. She loved seeing him like this, his usually confident demeanor softening into something more vulnerable and endearing.

“What do they think my type is?” Y/n asked, feigning innocence. She already knew the answer, but she enjoyed teasing him.

“They think you like guys who are nonchalant, the ones who don’t wear their hearts on their sleeves.” Seungcheol grumbled, still scrolling through his phone.

Y/n couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, really? That’s interesting.”

Seungcheol’s pout deepened. “Yeah, well, if they only knew how much you love someone clingy. Someone who can’t breathe without your attention. Someone like me.”

Y/n's heart swelled with affection as she saw Seungcheol’s sulking face. She decided to stoke the fire a bit more. “Maybe I do look good with those other guys. You know, it’s all just for fun.”

Seungcheol groaned dramatically, his shoulders slumping as he scooted away from her, his frustration palpable. “You’re not making this any easier, you know. You’re really pushing it.”

Y/n bit her lip, a playful glint in her eyes. Without warning, she grabbed the front of his oversized shirt and yanked him down to her height. Seungcheol’s eyes widened in surprise as she closed the gap between them.

Leaning in, Y/n captured his lips in a long, passionate kiss. The tension melted away as their mouths moved together, the world outside forgotten. Seungcheol’s phone slipped from his grasp, landing with a soft thud on the couch beside him.

Their kiss grew more intense, Seungcheol’s hands sliding up to cradle Y/n’s face as he deepened the kiss. Y/n’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as their bodies pressed together. The heat between them grew, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they explored each other’s mouths with a hunger that left them both breathless.

When they finally pulled away, both panting, Seungcheol’s expression had softened from frustration to a heady mix of desire and fondness. He wrapped his bulky arms around Y/n, pulling her even closer. His eyes locked onto hers, the playful spark replaced by a more serious, burning intensity.

“Now you’ve started it,” he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. “I think I need to show you just how clingy I can be.”

Y/n laughed softly, her fingers tracing the collar of his shirt as her eyes glinted with anticipation. “Oh, really? Is that so?”

Seungcheol’s hands roamed down her back, his touch igniting shivers as he leaned in to kiss her neck, his lips trailing heated, lingering kisses along her skin. Y/n gasped softly, her body responding to his touch with a mix of desire and need.

“You’re going to have to prove it.” She breathed, her voice trembling slightly as she tilted her head to give him better access.

Seungcheol’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “I’m more than happy to show you.”

He guided Y/n gently back onto the couch, his kisses growing more fervent and exploratory. His hands roamed over her body with a mix of tenderness and intensity, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through her. Y/n’s hands clung to his shirt, pulling him closer as their bodies pressed together.

The room filled with soft, sensual sounds as they lost themselves in each other. Seungcheol’s lips found hers again, their kiss now a desperate, passionate dance. He pulled away just enough to look into her eyes, his expression a perfect blend of adoration and desire.

“You know,” he whispered, his voice dripping with affection and a hint of mischief, “I might have to be a bit extra clingy from now on.”

Y/n laughed, a soft, delighted sound that mingled with the warmth of the moment. “I think I’d like that.”

[lxndonorris]

his lucky charm - Lando Norris

Y/N x Lando Norris Theme: Smutish, light touching you're Lando's lucky charm for qualifying x word count: 1440+ taglist: @game-set-canet gif by me open for requests, reader or ships welcome :)

The bustling Suzuka circuit hums with anticipation as the Japanese Grand Prix approaches its crucial phase—qualifying. Dressed in the vibrant Mclaren team shirt and cap, courtesy of Lando's team, you find yourself standing in the heart of the Mclaren garage, surrounded by the familiar hum of engines and the frentic energy of race day preparations. 

Your heart races just as fast with excitement as the Mclaren standing a few feet away from you as you watch Lando prepare for qualifying, his presence commanding attention even amidst the chaos of the garage.

You approach Lando's Mclaren, tracing its cold outline with your fingers, completely lost in your thoughts, when hands run along your waistline, pulling you back into a warm embrace. Right away, the familiar scent of Lando's cologne gives him away as he rests his head on your shoulder, humming right into your ear.

Turning around, you smile at the sight of him wearing his racing gear. A surge of admiration washes over you. The sleek lines of his racing suit accentuate his athletic physique, highlighting every contour and muscle beneath the fabric. He looks every bit like the confident and skilled driver that he is. 

His curls frame his face perfectly, adding a touch of youthful charm to his rugged appearance. The hint of stubble along his jawline only serves to enhance his allure, giving him an air of casual confidence that is utterly irresistible.

There is something undeniablely magnetic about seeing him in his element, his passion and determination shining through in every movement and gesture.

"How do you like my baby?" He tilts his head teasingly and lets his hand glide across the car as well, following your prior movements easily.

"Just as pretty as its driver." You smirk, a rush of warmth flooding through you as you trace your fingers lightly over his chest, feeling his firm muscles even though his suit.

Lost in the moment, you almost forget where you are, the world around you melting away as you stand in your own little bubble of intimacy. The scent of his cologne envelops you, a heady mixture of excitement and desire lingering in the air. 

With a tender kiss, Lando prepares himself for the challenge ahead, donning his helmet and gloves with practiced precision.

"Good luck." You say when he approaches you one last time before jumping into the car. With an appreciative nod, he climbs into the cockpit of his Mclaren, and you can't help but feel a surge of pride swell within you. 

With a headset in hand, you tune in to the team's communications, eager to follow Lando's progress. The voice of his race engineer crackles to life, providing updates and encouragement as he navigates the twists and turns of the Suzuka circuit.

With each lap, your heartbeat matches the rhythm of the roaring engines, and your breath catches in your throat as you follow Lando's progress with bated anticipation. And then, the moment of truth arrives.

"P3!" comes the triumphant cry over the radio, followed by Lando's own celebration—a moment of pure elation, a testiment to his passion and skill. The exhilaration in his voice is palpable as he giggles through the radio again; his joy infectious and uplifting. In that moment, you feel an overwhelming sense of happiness wash over you, knowing that you might have played a small part in his success.

As he emerges from the car, his face flushed with the thrill of earning part of the second row, you watch with admiration as he celebrates with his mechanics, his confidence and self-assurance radiating from every pore. And then he turned to you before taking his helmet and balaclave off, revealing a bright smile and his eyes filled with an unmistakable spark of affection.

With a swagger in his step, he approaches you, pulling you into him, relishing the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing your own. Adrenaline and excitement surge through your bodies, binding you together in a shared moment of triumph.

"You're my lucky charm," he whispers huskily, his words sending a shiver down your spine. 

Blushing, you steady yourself against his frame while his hands are on your waist, holding you close.

You can sense a shift in his demeanor—the excitement of qualifying ignited a fire within him, and his touch feels more possessive and urgent than before. As you stroke his firm chest, you feel the tension in his muscles, his racing suit stretched taut against his body.

His breath is ragged against your ear as he whispers again, his voice even huskier and rougher with desire. "You have no idea how much I was thinking of you during the last lap. It made me so...hard."

You feel a rush of heat flow through you at his words, a delicious thrill coursing through your veins. You let your hand roam his chest once more before you let it wander down his body. When he bends his hip against the palm of your hand, his desire now firm against your touch, you let out a quick sigh, swallowing in a dry throat.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your hand on my skin, it drives me crazy."

"Lando." You growl, his words sending shivers down your spine. The intensity of his emotions radiates from his entire being; his desire is tangible in every glance, every touch.

But even amidst the intensity of your shared desire, there is a tenderness in his touch, a depth of emotion that transcends the physical.

"You're unbelievable." You stroke his chest again, and you feel the rumble of soft growls vibrating against your fingertips. You can't help but smile, delighting in the primal response elicited by your gentle touch. 

His reaction, however, only serves to fuel the flames of desire burning within your belly, igniting a passionate intensity that pulses between you.

"It's true, though." He purrs happily, and you run a hand through his hair, "I felt you so close; it was amazing." Feeling the soft strands of his messy hair beneath your fingers, you can't resist running your hand through it again and again, relishing the tousles feel against your skin. His hair, disheveled from the intensity of qualifying, only adds to his irresistible charm.

"So I helped you?" You breathe as you caress his cheek, tracing the contours of his face with gentle strokes. 

With a soft smile, Lando leans into your touch, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. "You always do." He smiles warmly.

As your hand lingers on his chest, a mechanic's voice breaks through the moment, reminding us of Lando's obligation to attend the qualifying celebration with Max and Checo.

You feel a pang of disappointment at the interruption, wishing for just a few more minutes, but you know that duty calls him, and Lando earned the right to bask in the glory of his achievement alongside his fellow drivers.

With a reluctant sigh, you withdraw your hand, watching as Lando exchanges a quick glance with me, his eyes filled with an apology and a promise of more time together later. You nod in understanding, offering him a reassuring smile as he turns to follow the mechanic toward the others.

As you sit among the audience, watching the press conference unfold, your heart swells with pride, seeing Lando bask in the attention he so rightfully deserves. His confidence and harisma shine through as he fields questions from the media, his responses poised and articulate.

But amidst the flurry of activity, your gaze keeps returning to Lando, drawn to him like a magnet. And as your eyes meet, a silent understanding passes between you. 

You can't help but smile as you notice Lando's unconscious gesture, his hand drifting to his chest in a subtle yet unmistakable motion. It is as if he is reaching out for you, seeking the comfort and warmth of your touch even in the midst of the conference.

All of him is longing for one thing: you.

Then, a question from the press jolts him back into reality. His gaze falters as he struggles to recall the question, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

With a playful giggle, he apologized for his momentary lapse, his charm quickly winning over the crowd once more as he answers the question with ease.

But as he glances back at you, a mischievous twinkle dances in his eyes, and he can#t help but bite his lip. 

With a knowing smile, you return his gaze, your eyes filled with a mixture of love and desire., knowing that this is far from over.

[insomniac4000]

Sorry, wrong roommate ChrisMD

In which fans ship the wrong people.

Y/N had been on YouTube for over a decade, her channel a mix of witty challenges, heartfelt travel vlogs, and occasional collaborations with other creators. With over six million subscribers, Y/N was adored for her authenticity and sharp humour. Over the years, she'd become close friends with Chris Dixon, better known as ChrisMD, a fellow YouTuber with a penchant for football content.

For years, their friendship had been nothing but platonic. They'd filmed countless videos together, shared inside jokes, and supported each other through breakups and career slumps. They both invested into The Fellas Studio’s which meant they had office and production spaces in the building, on the same floor. But three months ago, something shifted. A late-night conversation in Chris’s office turned into a lingering glance, which turned into a kiss, which turned into them falling into a relationship neither of them had seen coming.

Chris lived in a flat with fellow content creators George Clarke and Arthur Hill, Y/N, being a frequent visitor to Chris’s flat, naturally spent time with their pair of them as well. In particular Y/N and George hit it off instantly, their shared sense of humour leading to a fast friendship. However, Y/N and Chris had decided to keep their relationship private for now. They didn’t want the pressure of public opinion or fan theories while they were still navigating the early stages of being a couple. They had both been down that road before with relationships somewhat playing out on screen so they wanted to things to be for themselves for a while until they were ready to share. What they hadn’t anticipated was how quickly the internet would misinterpret Y/N and George’s friendship.

It all started one Friday night Y/N leaned back against the couch in Chris, Arthur and George's living room, scrolling through her phone. George sat beside her, editing a TikTok they'd just filmed a chaotic dance routine that involved several failed attempts and a lot of laughter.

"This is gold," George said, grinning as he watched the video.

"Pure comedy genius," Y/N agreed, sipping her wine as Chris was sat on the other sofa, a bemused smile on his face as he had watched all of the chaos unfold in front of him they did try to rope him into it too but Chris could be very stubborn.

The Tiktok had it’s fans, and they noticed that Y/N and George started posting several photos and videos together over the next few weeks, often tagging each other and teasing back and forth in the comments. Even when the weren’t together To them, it was harmless fun. To their fans, it was evidence of something more.

George Clarkeey- I’m on a boat MF

Y/N- a Picture of you and all the women you’ve ever chatted up.

Y/N Loving my new view in my flat.

George Clarkeey- Wear your bloody glasses for once and you’ll be able to see it.

On Twitter, hashtags like #Y/NAndGeorge and #NewYouTubeCouple were started to creep up. Fan edits of their TikToks flooded Instagram, accompanied by captions like, "Their chemistry is undeniable!" and "We ship it!"

Y/N showed one of the posts to George, who burst out laughing.

"They think we’re dating?" he said, eyes wide.

"Apparently," Y/N replied, shaking her head.

Chris walked into the room just then, his hair damp from a shower. "What’s so funny?" he asked, sitting on the armrest of the couch beside Y/N.

"People think I’m dating George," Y/N said, showing him the post.

Chris smirked, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes something like irritation. "Well, that’s... creative."

"Relax, Dixon," George said, clapping Chris on the back. "Your girlfriend's too classy for me."

"True," Y/N teased, earning a playful nudge from George.

As the weeks went on, the rumours only grew. Every time Y/N and George posted something together, fans speculated further. Chris tried to laugh it off, it wasn’t something they had expected to happen when they kept their relationship quiet and in all honesty it was quite a welcome distraction in some ways. He trusted Y/N completely, but seeing fans ship her with someone else—especially his flatmate—was frustrating. He couldn’t say anything publicly without revealing their relationship, and he didn’t want to be the jealous boyfriend, not that he was jealous he wasn’t ready to share things with the world just yet but there was a part of him that was quite it wasn’t him and Y/N who were getting the attention, there was still a big part of him that wanted to shout out his feelings from the rooftops and he felt a little guilty that he couldn’t always show her how much she meant to him in the way that he wanted to.

The rumours reached a fever pitch when a paparazzi photo surfaced of Y/N and George grabbing coffee together. In the picture, George was holding the door open for Y/N, who was laughing at something he’d said. The internet went wild.

“They’re so cute together!”

“Look at my boy all growing up.”

“I swear George has been crushing on her for ages.”

What people didn’t know was George and Y/N were picking up a coffee before going shopping together as George asked Y/N’s help to get him something for Chris’s birthday.

Then came the podcast

Max kicked off the episode with his usual sarcastic charm. "We’ve got a very special guest today—YouTube royalty herself, Y/N! Applause, please."

George clapped dramatically, making Y/N roll her eyes with a laugh.

"Thanks for having me, boys," Y/N said, settling into her seat.

She talked about making Youtube videos, including some of her silliest moments travelling including having three airlines go bust, a ton of lost luggage including a lot of expensive camera equipment and thoughts she was going to die when a plane she was on almost flew into a hurricane.

“People think my personal life is really interesting too,” Y/N started with a grin, a small glint also showed up in George’s eye, they were well aware of what people were saying and while they did nothing to fan the flames they didn’t stoke the fire either. They were friends, friends hung out together that was all it was. Y/N continued “but really I think because I travel a lot when I am home I just tend to hang out really. I do really like to cook actually George I need to give you lessons,” she added with a smile on her face. George sighed and slumped down in his chair slightly.

“It’s not that bad,” he tried to defend himself but it fell on deaf eyes. Max looked with an amused smirk as Y/N sat up straighter in his chair, leaning forward.

"Not that bad? Do you remember last week when you tried to make toast and somehow managed to burn it? Like, the smoke alarm went off, George. It’s toast. It has one job."

Max burst out laughing, while George groaned again. "Why do you have to bring that up? It was one time!"

"Once is all it takes to lose your cooking privileges," Y/N teased.

The conversation quickly shifted to other topics, but fans latched onto Y/N’s comment.

Clips of the episode went viral almost immediately, particularly Y/N’s anecdote about George burning toast. Fans dissected her casual delivery, honing in on one detail: why was Y/N there in the morning to witness it?

Twitter was flooded with speculation.

“Wait, Y/N was at George’s flat in the MORNING? 👀”

“They’re not even trying to hide it anymore!”

“So Y/N and George are definitely dating, right? She’s roasting his cooking like a true girlfriend.”

Y/N saw the posts later that evening and couldn’t help but laugh. She sent a screenshot of one particularly dramatic fan theory to George and Chris in their group chat.

Y/N: Apparently, I’m your girlfriend now because you can’t cook toast.

George: I mean, to be fair, I’d date me too.

Chris: This is getting ridiculous. You should’ve just told them you were there because of me. Plus George I can still smell burnt toast, whenever I walk into the kitchen I think I’m having a stroke, I’m useless.

Y/N: And ruin the mystery? Never.

George: Chris I thought you had Y/N to give you a stroke now?

Y/N:FFS George

Despite their lighthearted texts, Chris couldn’t shake the unease that lingered after the episode aired. Fans were taking Y/N’s story and running with it, creating elaborate timelines and theories about her supposed relationship with George.

One evening, as Chris and Y/N curled up on the couch watching a movie, he sighed.

"What’s wrong?" Y/N asked, glancing up at him.

"Just... all this George stuff," he admitted. "I know it’s dumb, but I hate that people think you’re with him. Like, we’re together, and no one knows."

Y/N’s expression softened. "Chris, they’re just having fun with their theories. It doesn’t change anything between us."

"I know," he said, running a hand through his hair. "It’s just hard sometimes, seeing people say stuff like that."

Y/N pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Well, if it helps, I’m planning something that’ll clear everything up soon."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"

"Probably," she said with a grin.

It took another couple of week but Chris and Y/N decided enough was enough, they were ready to share. Plus the rumours were becoming too ridiculous to ignore. Fans were dissecting every interaction between her and George, claiming they were secretly in love, there was even one rumour the pair were getting engaged, it was definitely going too far.

She drafted an Instagram post, carefully choosing her words. Then, with a mischievous smile, she typed the caption:

“Sorry, been f**ing the wrong flatmate 🙃.”*

Y/N hit “post” and set her phone down.

Within minutes, her notifications exploded.

Fans were in a frenzy.

“WAIT WHAT?!”

“We’ve been duped!”

“I knew it was Chris all along!”

“The flatmate comment has me dead 💀.”

“Great cover story, I never would have predicted this.”

With their relationship public, Y/N and Chris felt a weight lift off their shoulders. They no longer had to hide their affection, and the rumours about Y/N and George quickly faded.

As for George, he milked the situation for all it was worth, joking in videos about being the “rejected flatmate” and pretending to be heartbroken. He posted his own photo of him and Arthur Hill, with the caption trying to make a certain someone jealous.  

In the end, the chaos only brought them closer together. Y/N and Chris continued to share glimpses of their relationship with their fans, proving that sometimes, the best stories are the ones you don’t see coming.

[hangmanssunnies]

Heat To Boil

Summary: After a failed Tinder date, you go to hang out with your friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin. When you get to his house, you unexpectedly find him with a baby, and it is a sight that rewires something in your head. Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. And that is a task you would be more than willing to help with; now, you just need to find the courage to bring it up.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word count: 9k

AO3 Link

Warnings: 18+ Only, Friends to lovers, baby fever, smut, P in V, Oral, Hangman with a baby (deserves its own warning)

Author's note: The attorneys at work keep bringing their babies in and letting me hold them, and @top-hhun has done absolutely nothing to discourage the subsequent baby fever I've been dealing with. Anyways, that's where this fic came from. I hope you enjoy this. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

You had become friends with Jake unexpectedly some years ago, hitting it off at your mutual friend's wedding. Part of you had, of course, hoped the attractive blonde aviator would be interested in you, maybe in a romantic sense, but it never came to fruition. He shipped out the week after the wedding, but the easy rapport you carried with him started with sharing jokes about how trashed other people got at the reception, and eventually developing into a true and close friendship. 

It was for the best because the more you got to know Jake, it became clear to you that he didn't want the same things that you did. He was focused on his career and didn't have time for a partner. When he did talk about settling down, it was never in an authentic way, more joking that he was waiting to swoop in if Coyote's marriage fell apart or that his Mama would set him up with a nice southern belle who wanted to give her twelve grandkids. Jake would claim he was too busy for a relationship, away from home too much to be steady. However, none of that seemed to stop him from finding time for you, which is probably why you hadn't been able to completely repress your feelings for him despite some valiant efforts. 

Just today, after a failed lunch date with someone from Tinder, you texted Jake disheartened. He hadn't hesitated first to ask if you were okay and then invited you over for dinner to tell him all about it. He had even promised to cook you whatever you wanted. A special treat guaranteed to make you feel better, considering Jake's superb culinary skills. 

You walk into Jake's house without knocking or ringing the bell, knowing he left the door unlocked in anticipation of your arrival. After securing the front door's lock into place, you toe off your shoes, making sure to set them neatly in line with the others there. Jake's home is clean and tidy, just like it always is; the organization of the entry is no exception. You know from the smells and sounds wafting towards you that he must still be cooking, which is odd because he's almost always done by the time you show up. 

Venturing further into the house you see him, standing in the kitchen, with a baby strapped to his chest. It's an unexpected sight, and you're frozen by it. Jake's in a casual white teeshirt, jeans, and a dark navy blue sling with a camo pattern wrapped tightly around him, securing a tiny infant in place against his broad chest. His hair is fluffy like it often is on his days off, and the golden strands fall across his forehead. Seeing it like this always creates an instinctual desire to run your fingers through it. However, you can hardly even process that thought because you're so distracted by the bundle on his chest. Music is playing on his record player, and he is humming along. 

Jake suddenly stops the humming, and the prep he is doing, looking down at the baby. After a pause, a smile pulls at the edges of his lips, his eyes crinkle before he drops a kiss on the infant's head. And it's like everything is right. Jake with a baby seems so natural. The fact that he exists any other way than with a baby in his arms every day feels wrong. Your heart starts beating harder in your chest, and a thought pops into your head, instantly taking deep root: Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. 

You don't know what sound you must have made, but Jake looks up and finally notices you standing in the hallway. He doesn't appear at all startled as a wide grin spreads across his face as he greets you, "Howdy there, Doll!"  

"You have a baby," you say stupidly in an entirely delayed response. 

"Yeah, this little guy is Jackson. Coyote and the Mrs wanted a date day, so I offered to watch the baby for them. They were supposed to be here two hours ago to pick him up, but I'm sure they just got caught up." Jake laughs and presses another kiss to Jackson's head. Before continuing on, "I hope you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," you manage to breathe out, unable to tear your eyes off Jake or even pretend you're not staring. He quirks an eyebrow at you but otherwise doesn't comment. After he gestures for you to join him, he returns to the cutting board in front of him. You are transfixed; when you sit down at the bar in the kitchen, it occurs to you that you should probably say something and not just stare like an idiot. "Do you want me to take him?"

"I think he is just fine here," Jake says, examining the sleeping baby strapped to his chest again. Jackson has hardly moved since you showed up, clearly passed out, not disturbed by the music or any of the kitchen sounds. 

"At least let me help finish cooking then?" You request. 

"No, Ma'am. Bubba and I have this dinner taken care of. I did pick up that wine you like from the store. Maybe you can open it up for us?" 

Entering the kitchen, you pull out two wine glasses from a cabinet. Opening the fridge you see your preferred wine stocked, as well as a few of your other favorite drinks stored there. Warmth blooms in your chest that Jake picked up things for you when he was at the store last. It was touching that he would take care to buy something he would never touch but getting it anyway just to have beverages you prefer on hand. After pouring the wine, you set one glass next to Jake's cutting board, making sure it's in easy reach for him. 

"Thank you," he says appreciatively. You sigh and lean against him, pressing your face into the bicep of his arm, careful not to disturb Jackson or the sling as you do. Closing your eyes, you breathe him in, looking for the subtle cedar scent of his cologne to soothe you. However, only a hint of it tickles your nose, the cedar not as strong as it usually is. Today, Jake smells more like clean laundry and his natural musk than anything else. You are surprised to find it still does the trick in helping settle your nerves, though. Jake hums but doesn't protest your closeness, instead asking, "Long day?" 

You don't answer with words, just humming noncommittally against his arm. You leave your face pressed there for a moment longer. "Not enough wine to talk about it yet," you eventually say into his arm before pulling away. Settling on the other side of the counter again, you take a long drink of the wine you poured. Deciding to admire Jake again, you ask, "How was your day?"

"It was pretty good. Javy dropped Jackson off this morning. We had tummy time, went on a walk, and to the grocery store to get things for dinner. Then we got a little cranky, so we rocked in the lazy boy for a while." You took a moment to picture Jake doing these activities and can't decide which is most swoon worthy. Jake is always swoon worthy, of course, but knowing that he was caring for a baby while doing it feels like an extra kick to the stomach or maybe ovaries. 

"And?" You ask him, taking another drink of your wine and pillowing your face on your palm. 

"And what?" Jake asks. 

"What else did you and Jackson do today? I want to hear every detail." 

Jake gives into your request easily. Starting his description of the day over, he tells you how even though he has babysat before, the Machados were still anxious to leave Jackson alone here when they dropped him off that morning. Jake told you about tummy time, which toys they liked and which were uninteresting. How long their walk was, and what they saw. He told you about the old woman who fawned over them in the store and how they helped her with getting her groceries to the car. It was endearing that Jake used the first person plural 'we' as if he and Jackson were a team with equal agency in their day's activities. It was especially cute when Jake told you about the tantrum they had thrown earlier in the afternoon as if he had been crying right along with his godson. 

Just as dinner was finished and you were setting the table, Jackson woke up and started to get fussy. Jake cooed to the baby affectionately, leaving to the guest room, where Javy had stuffed almost a car full of supplies for Jake to watch Jackson. Some of the just-in-case supplies included toys and clothes Jackson wouldn't even be able to use until he was at least a year old.  

When Jake comes back, both he and Jackson are wearing different clothes. Jake is in a soft green shirt and sweats, while Jackson is now wearing a giraffe onesie. He has the baby propped on his hip and doesn't offer you any explanation aside from that they had an accident. Then he sees that you have plated and set everything for dinner at the dining room table, and he offers a soft thank you. 

You watch as he balances Jackson on his hip and starts following the written out directions for making a bottle that's taped to his fridge. Jake isn't someone who struggles, and you know that this is something that he is fully capable of doing, but you also can't help but think that it would be easier for him if he had two free hands. So, you gently pull Jackson from his arms and into your own instead. 

The baby blinks up at you, his eyes still soft and sleepy. He babbles a bit of nonsense but otherwise makes no protest at you. Jackson has the same brown eyes and skin tone as his father. Even with his chubby cheeks, you can tell that the little boy is going to be Coyote's mini-me. The similarities in their appearance are so close it's like the universe had just hit copy and paste. 

He is so cute you can't stop the grin that stretches across your lips when Jackson snuggles into you. One of his hands starts grabbing at your shirt's fabric while he absently gnaws at his other one. The little boy completely steals your attention as you walk around the living room and dining room with him. Asking him how he feels about his day with his Uncle Jake, pausing for his babbling like they were real answers. Jake comes up behind you several minutes later, setting a steady hand on the small of your back.

 "Here, let me take him," Jake mutters practically in your ear while reaching for Jackson. 

"No," you protest, turning away from Jake's reach. "You've had him all day. I've only gotten to hold him for a few minutes." 

"Now, darling," Jake drawls. 

"Don't darling me."

"Doll," He says 

"Don't Doll me either." You snap, though the aggression of it is completely manufactured. 

"Fine, fine," Jake says, holding his hands up. "You can have him for a few more minutes, but then it's my turn again."  

"How is that fair?" 

"It's fair because he is my godson." 

You pout at Jake, and he pouts back." I can't believe you're going to be a baby hog like this. Don't you know sharing is caring?" 

"Jackson isn't a rental car, sweetheart. Can't just hand him out to anybody."

"So what? You don't trust me with him?" 

"No," Jake says, suddenly dropping all of his dry, teasing tone. "Of course, I trust you with him. Of course, I trust you."

Jake steps closer when he says this, crowding a bit into your personal space. His sea glass green eyes hold you in place, and you don't think you imagine that they flick downwards, that he has his sights set on your lips, that Jake could be considering kissing you. However, a breath later, he is swooping Jackson out of your arms and into his own, quickly back peddling. 

"You can have the baby back after I feed him, okay? I don't want to risk him throwing up on that pretty blouse you've got on." 

"Kidnaper! Baby Snatcher!" You half gasp, half yell, and start to chase after Jake as he runs away, holding Jackson close and carefully but still managing to evade you.  

You're both laughing, and Jackson has started joyfully screeching as well when the doorbell rings, startling all three of you. Jake hands Jackson to you wordlessly before going to check who's at the door. It only takes a minute for him to come back with Coyote in tow. Who immediately rushes to sweep his baby from your arms and press kisses all over his cherub face. 

After Javy examined his son to ensure nothing was out of sorts, he handed Jackson back to you to hold while he and Jake packed up all of his stuff and moved the car seat. This was only after he made a sly comment about how good you looked with a baby in your arms, though. 

When you are alone with Jackson again, you take a moment to admire yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall. It wasn't such a hard thing for you to imagine holding a baby, and it looking normal, like something right, especially when you start to picture one with Jake's features or one that would take more after you, possibly even some sweet mix. The feeling of casual want that started from seeing Jake when you first arrived suddenly twists into an unexpected ache and intense need. 

You expect it to let up, but it doesn't. Rather, the feeling smolders in you, burning hotter and hotter until it feels slightly consuming. Seeing Jake hug and kiss Jackson goodbye, promising they would spend another day together soon, nearly does you in. Heating your feelings from a low simmer to a roaring boil. 

When you and Jake finally sit down to actually have dinner, it gets a little hotter with every sip of wine you take. Every time that Jake smiles and his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way he asks about your failed date with the perfect mix of sympathy and care, even the way he reheated dinner, all adds to the fire. As Jake is starting to put away the leftovers from dinner, refusing to let you help, you can't keep it in anymore, and you boil over. 

"Jackson was so precious," you say, casually swirling the bit of drink you have left around in the glass.  

"Little mans is so fun. I love him. It's always a treat to babysit," 

"You were really great with him today." 

"Aw, thanks Doll. Now, what do you want to do with the rest of the night? Play a game, watch a movie? We can do anything you want."

"Anything I want?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jake says easily as he pops the lids of his pyrex container into place.  

"I want a baby." You say in a quick breath. You nearly slap your hand over your mouth in horror that had just jumped out of your mouth. You really haven't had enough wine to be this bold, but then again, maybe you were a little intoxicated on having seen Jake be so domestic. 

"What?" he asks with a laugh, probably thinking he misheard you. You grip the edge of the cool countertop trying to steady your nerves and prevent your hands from shaking. 

"Jake, I want a baby," you tell him more slowly, making sure each word comes out clearly. 

"No, you don't," he laughs, shaking his head. He starts tossing dirty dishes into the sudsy water of the sink and stacking up the food containers to put in the fridge. Jake turns away from you before saying, "I thought you've said you didn't want kids."

"It's complicated," you explain softly. "Are people not allowed to change their minds about things anymore?" 

"Oh, so are you debating or like —"

"I don't really know how to say this more clearly. I want to have a baby with you, Jake." 

He freezes. You see his shoulders tense, and he stares into the fridge for a long moment, slowly finishing storing the leftovers. When he closes the fridge, he still doesn't look at you immediately. 

"You want me to be the father of a child you have? You want to have my baby?" Jake asks you incredulously. You gulp, now feeling entirely too vulnerable to speak, so you just nod in agreement instead. Jake's eyes are piercing, and his body language is tense as he stands in front of the sink again. He heaves a heavy sigh, his lips flattening into a tight line. Then he scrubs his hands over his face before narrowing his eyes at you, "This is not a very funny joke." 

"It's not a joke, Jake. I want a baby, and I know you would be a good father." When Jake's demeanor still doesn't change, you continue on hurriedly. "I think we could do the whole platonic coparent thing easily enough. We get along so well, and we're already such good friends." 

There is a long pause where he does not say anything, turning on the sink, waiting for the water to heat, and sudsing up a scrub daddy sponge. Only once this task is started does he answer you in a very stoic, perfectly level tone, "No, I don't think I can do that. I can't just sleep with you."

"Oh, well. I see. Forget that I asked, please." You mutter, embarrassed but trying to not let the sting of rejection affect your tone. You knew that this could backfire, but you didn't think it would feel this bad. Feel like the pit of your stomach falling so low you are almost nauseous. 

"I'm sorry, Dolly." 

"It's okay, Jake, really. It's just the wine getting to me."

"Are you going to ask someone else?" 

"What?" 

"Are you going to ask someone else to give you a baby?" Jake asks in a gruff tone. 

You wouldn't actually, you wouldn't want one without Jake. In fact, this urge to have a child came from seeing him. However, you didn't know how else to play off your out-of-pocket request than to commit to the bit. Nonchalantly, you say, "Maybe." 

"I could help you find someone," he offers. 

"Please, Jake. It's okay you said no. You don't have to try and fix my situation."

He practically ignores you, asking, "What about Rooster?"

"I'm sure that I would have fun with the process," you say. Jake, who has focused himself with dedication on the dishes, looks up at you sharply. He quickly looks away again as you continue, "I'd be worried about having a baby that's born with a full mustache, though. So, no, thank you." 

"I'm sure Fritz would be happy to help you out." 

"No —"

"Harvard—" 

"No Hangman. Stop," You say much harder with emphasis, cutting him off and leaving no room for argument. 

"I tell you no for one thing, and suddenly I'm Hangman to you?"

"No, you're Hangman when you disregard the people around you, no matter what they say. You're Hangman when you decide something's a mission objective, and you refuse to let it go. This isn't your problem to fix or one to pawn off on one of your friends." 

"You made it my problem when you just asked me to give you a baby," Jake says, frustrated. Roughly scrubbing the dishes, rinsing, and setting them in the drying rack. 

"Well, the moment you said no, it's not your problem anymore. I'm absolving you of responsibility. It's my problem, and I will find someone for myself to put up with me, at least for a night." You joke, trying to lighten the mood again, not wanting to ruin the whole night from this mishap. Jake doesn't react more than his face darkening significantly, a deep frown pulling at his lips as he rinses the last dish and closes the dishwasher. 

"Put up with you?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together. Jake reaches for a dish towel to dry off his hands, and you're momentarily distracted by the thick fingers and web of veins tracing up his arm. It's a better sight than meeting Jake's intense eyes, those eyes that can stare you down and leave no room for you to hide. 

"I mean, I know I'm a lot, but I think even I can get someone to fuck me once or twice. If I want and am very lucky, I'll only need one night. There are also other options, of course, like sperm banks and adoption. Let's just let it go. Okay?" When you don't get an immediate response, you glance at Jake once more. He is staring at you, but it's not a look you like. He's looking at you like you are a problem to be fixed, a puzzle to solve, an item to take off his to-do list. So you force a chuckle out and smile.  

"I don't think I want to. Actually, I can't let this conversation go." 

"We have to," you insist. 

"Why?"

"Because Jakers, it doesn't have anywhere else to go. I expressed a stupid desire without thinking. It was awkward, and that's okay. It doesn't have to stay that way, though. Now we laugh and forget it. There is no other option." 

"A lot. Put up with. Stupid desires," Jake scoffs the words as he rounds the kitchen island. He spins the bar stool chair you're sitting on by the back, turning you to face him. Then he sets his hands on the marble countertop on either side of you, effectively boxing you in. Even sitting on the tall bar stool, you have to tilt your head a bit to look up at him. When your eyes meet again, the green isn't as soft or kind as you're expecting. "I don't like how you're talking about yourself right now." 

"I'm just being honest. I'm taxing to deal with; people get tired of me. My past relationships have certainly taught me that I'm only desirable under the right conditions. And I am stupid. I just ruined our whole night because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. What kind of normal person asks one of their best friends to fuck a baby into them unprompted?"

"Oh wow, I'm not even sure where to start with all that." Jake breathes. You can't take seeing his furrowed brow and disappointed frown. So instead, you examine his right arm that's stretched by you, mapping out the moles and freckles there. "You've developed a warped sense of the truth, Doll."  

It's your turn to scoff and roll your eyes. When you do, the arm you've been studying shifts, and Jake cups your cheek. Gently, he urges your face to turn back towards his, and a calloused thumb sweeps across your cheekbone. "Listen to me good now. The things you want and desire they ain't stupid, and neither are you. You're not too much. You're just enough."

"Thank you, Jake." You whisper. And while his words are kind, you don't really believe them.  

"Don't say thank you."

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"Say you believe me and mean it," Jake urges you. 

"I don't want to lie to you. That's not who we are, that's not our friendship," You say. Jake's hand drops from your cheek, and he steps back quickly as if he's been burned. After you had been so surrounded by him, you nearly reach out to urge him close again. Running a hand through his hair, you can tell he's resisting the urge to pace. 

"Is that our friendship, one built on honesty?" 

"I thought so." 

"Then I've failed you, and I've failed us because it's not." 

"Jake, what are you talking about?" You ask him, confused. He shakes his head at you and doesn't respond, instead backing away further until he is abandoning you in the kitchen. Swiftly, you stand to follow him, "Where are you going?" 

"I'm leaving." 

"And going where? This is your house," you remind him. You've caught up to him in the doorway of his bedroom, where he's grabbing a hat and his wallet. "I'm sorry I ruined tonight, and I'll leave. You have to be honest with me before I do, though. I have to know we're going to be okay tomorrow." 

"I can't," Jake says tersely, not meeting your eyes and attempting to sidestep you in the doorway. 

"I was wrongly under the impression there wasn't anything you couldn't do, Hangman. But I guess we are finding a lot of things you just can't do tonight, aren't we?" You aren't expecting the little lash out of a taunt to get you anywhere. Jake is normally always calm, cool, and collected, acting with decisive precision. However, nearly as soon as you've finished speaking, Jake's hands are on your arms, and he backs you up until you gently hit the wall of the hallway across from his door. 

"You're asking for more self-restraint than I have, Doll." He warns roughly. The sudden movement doesn't make you back down like he was probably expecting. Instead, the rush makes you feel emboldened. 

"I don't care. I can accept you don't want a baby with me, that you don't want to fuck me. I can accept that you want to force me to talk, but I can't accept you making me question our friendship." 

"Oh god. You really don't understand. My honesty is not going to make this better," he warns. 

"Yes, I do. Whatever it is, please tell me. I can think of many things you could be referring to, like that I'm not attractive to you. How I would make a terrible mother. Maybe I'm not a good friend. Or you don't actually like spending time with me. Whatever it is, you have to tell me. I've never thought you would lie to me. So, I need to know, or it's going to drive me crazy." 

"There you are, all twisted up again," Jake sighs. 

"And whose fault is that?" You snap back. Jake still has you pressed against the wall, so you set your hands on his broad chest with the intention of pushing him away. However, he doesn't budge; in fact, he does the opposite, coming even closer so he is flush against you. You refuse to tilt your chin to look up at him as he looms, rather only lifting your eyes in a cold stare. "I shouldn't be surprised that you're going to leave me hanging to dry, but you could at least —"

You don't get to finish the thought because a hand has snaked to hold the side of your neck, thumb tucking under your chin, turning your face upwards to Jake's waiting lips. The first brush of his lips on yours doesn't line up quite right, but that doesn't stop your breath from catching. Shifting to get a better angle, Jake applies two more feather light kisses. Your hands, which are still resting on his chest, creep up, and you loop them around his shoulders, using the leverage to lift higher on your toes and get closer to him. 

This prompts him to deepen his next kiss, lips moving harder against yours. When you open your mouth wider in invitation, Jake's tongue traces along your bottom lip but doesn't dive in. You whine when Jake pulls away to take a breath. 

"Forgive me, Doll, I should've asked first." 

"Asked what?" You wonder, not moving your eyes away from his lips and strategizing how to get them back on yours. You think if you could just get a little higher, you would be able to kiss him without Jake needing to bend down so much. 

"May I kiss you?" He asks. 

"Yes, please." You answer immediately. You tug your hold on his shoulders, hoping it will urge him to get right back to it. Jake doesn't, though. His hand shifts from your neck to cup your cheek again, his other leaving the wall to settle on your waist. 

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes, Jake." His hand traces up your side from your waist and back down again in what is a soothing motion. It's too soft and delicate for what you want right now, though, so you tug on his neck again, pressing your chest into his. He gives in this time, molding his lips to yours once more. 

When his tongue meets yours, a low rumble emulates from Jake's chest, and the sound sends a new wave of arousal coursing through you. Reaching up, you push off Jake's hat, not caring where it falls, only that it's no longer in your way. When you thread your fingers into his hair, it's smooth and silky, providing no resistance when you tug it. 

"Tell me what you want, Doll," Jake says when your lips part again. 

"You. I want you," you whimper, tugging his hair again. A wide grin breaks across Jake's face, and his eyes crinkle around the edges. He tucks his face into your neck, and you can still feel him smiling. 

"What else do you want?" He questions. When his lips brush a spot that makes you stretch your neck to give him easier access, he nips it lightly. You stumble, coming up with a response, just sighing his name as he finds another spot to bite. "Come on now, you said it so pretty earlier. Tell me again."

Once his request processes through your lust filled brain, you push on Jake's shoulders once more. This time, he doesn't resist, backing away from you and creating some space between your heated bodies. Sagging against the wall, you try to catch your breath while examining Jake. His hair is disheveled now, some of it falling across his forehead. 

"You said no, you don't want that with me. You don't want this with me," You answer, finally dropping your gaze to examine the grain of the hardwood floor near your feet. Confusion at this sudden turn in attitude from him settles over you as your head clears. One of Jake's hands enters your field of vision, turned upwards in an offering. "Come sit, we need to set some things straight." 

Taking Jake's hand, he curls his fingers with yours and gently tugs you back through the doorway of his room. With his direction, you perch on the edge of his four poster bed. Jake presses a kiss to the back of your hand and lets it go to settle on the accent chair that's in the corner. 

"We'll be honest, right?" You say hesitantly, already missing the feeling of Jake's hand in yours. 

"Yes. I'll be honest." Jake answers reassuringly before continuing, "From the beginning, I never wanted to be friends with you. 

"You didn't?" 

"Nope," he says, popping the p. "I never wanted to be friends, and then once we were friends, I was stuck. You didn't seem to want the same things as I did, and I'm not the kind of man to complain about the friend zone."

"I haven't friend you zoned you," you say, scandalized at the suggestion. 

"Just earlier tonight, you asked me to have a baby with you, platonically," Jake deadpans. 

"Because I can't conceptualize you wanting me any other way." 

"I want you. I've always wanted you, but not platonically, baby." 

Baby. Jake was a casual sweet name user, there was doll, sweetheart, honey, darling, those all were commonplace, but baby was new. Hearing it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. He called you baby, and he has wanted you. You could have had him from the start if your fears and insecurities hadn't held you back. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper. 

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to need me, to love me," Jake explains with more hesitation than you've ever heard from him as if he is tip-toeing through this conversation. Worrying your fingers together, you have to take a calming breath to settle your own hesitation before answering him, "Well, that's easy because I do."  

A gleeful grin stretches across his face, and it's so bright you feel a matching one appear. He rubs a hand over his face, hiding it from view for a moment, and when you see his face again, he is still smiling. He looks as if he is trying to bite it back but can't quite manage. 

"Well, alright, a few more things we have to iron out then. I love spending time with you. You've never not been desirable to me." You can't help a disbelieving laugh when Jake says that, and the look he gives you is disapproving. "I mean that. I was thinking about it even the time I came over to bring you soup when you had the flu. Wanted to bundle you up and crawl into bed with you." 

"Oh, come on, that can't be true. I was so gross." 

"It is. I promised I would be honest, and I'm not going to be breaking any of the promises I make to you. Can you believe that?" 

You study his face, tracing over his nose, and jaw. He still has the hint of a grin that hasn't slid off his features yet, and he looks so very earnest. You can't imagine that Jake would be in the business of lying to you, and the openness he is offering makes it feel like you can believe him. That you can keep trusting him just like you always have. "I can believe that."

"Great. So, baby —" 

"Yes?" You say entirely too breathily before he can even finish the sentence. It was really a surprise how much hearing him say that already turned your brain to some form of liquid. 

"I want to sleep with you," Jake says plainly. 

"Then why are you all the way over there?" 

"I didn't want you to feel any sort of pressure while we were talking, and wasn't confident I could keep my hands to myself." 

Standing up from his bed, you walk steadily over to the chair Jake is sitting in. Crawling into his lap more confidently than you truly feel, his hands automatically slip around your waist, steading you against him. Holding eye contact with him, you say, "I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself." 

"Fuck, you're going to kill me," he sighs, tightening his hold on you. You go to kiss him again, but when you do, he blurts out, "I don't have any STDs or STIs." His cheeks stain a little pink, and he looks as surprised by the declaration as you are. 

"That's good to know. I'm clean too," you inform him. 

"Good to know. I just thought it was important to put it out there. Got to do safety checks first and everything. I don't want us to have any questions or be unsure about anything, and it's important to consider all the factors involved with —" Jake's rambling comes to a halt when you dip your face into his neck, kissing at the underside of his jaw softly. 

"Jake," you say, linking your arms around his neck and playing with the short hair there. "Will you give me a baby?" 

"Fuck, Doll. I promise to give you anything you want. The ring, the house, the baby. It's yours." 

You don't waste any time kissing him. When your lips meet, all the hesitancy and nervousness that Jake had while you were talking melts away. His mouth confidently teases yours open for his tongue to quickly follow. Your hands thread into Jake's hair again as his start to roam your back, sides, and arms. When you wiggle closer on his lap, he groans and grabbing a handful of your ass, lifting you up. Jake stands easily and walks you back to the bed. 

He doesn't drop you on the bed like you're expecting. Instead, he sets you down gently, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as he does. Laying on your back with Jake standing over you reminds you just how large and broad he is. 

With surprisingly little fanfare, he pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the side. Jake shirtless is not a new sight; in fact, it's a tantalizing one you've seen too often. He has every right to be proud of his body, you know how much time he dedicates at the gym. So it shouldn't be a surprise that, never one to be self conscious, Jake hardly could be found wearing a shirt if the situation didn't require it. However, you realize this is the first time that you don't just have to look but can also touch. 

Wanting to get the nervousness of undressing out of the way, you sit up, quickly discarding your shirt and tossing it aside. Before you can shimmy out of your bottoms, Jake's large hands are on your wrists, stopping you. 

"You're doing my job," he chastises huskily. Jake is slow and meticulous in removing your clothes, running his hands over all the skin that's exposed to him. When he pulls off your bra, leaving you only in your panties, he just sits back and stares for a moment. Such intense scrutiny from his gaze has you covering your chest, crossing your legs, and looking away. 

"I wasn't planning on sleeping with anyone tonight," you mutter, knowing that you don't have the sexiest underwear on and perhaps were not as physically prepared for this intimacy as you would like. 

"Good," he says lowly. "No one else is going to get to see you like this anymore." Grabbing an ankle in each big hand, he spreads you out for him. He slides off your panties so you're completely bare, and takes up his staring once more. "Ain't you fucking gorgeous?" Jake mutters and you realize he ain't talking about you necessarily; he's talking to your pussy. Whining his name gets Jake to shove off his sweatpants, leaving him in a pair of dark grey boxer briefs as he crawls over your body. 

As he kisses you again, your hands greedily explore his exposed skin. His chest hair proving to be much softer than you had imagined it, and his shoulders are taut as he holds himself up. While Jake's lips move with yours, you use a leg to encourage him to ease more of his weight into you, seeking friction. Kissing down your neck he lavishes attention to your breasts, licking and sucking his way across your skin. 

"You know, I was too busy to make dessert," he says when he reaches your core. One of his hands teasingly traces all around the skin. Placing a kiss on your inner thigh, he asks, "Do you mind filling in?" 

"Jake, you don't need to." You say, trying not to squirm when his fingers dip between your lips. 

"I want to. Do you not want me to?" 

"I know it's not everyone's thing," you answer, giving him an out. 

"It's my thing," Jake says. His eyes lock onto the cleft of you, and he licks his lip, biting at the bottom one. Reaching up, he grabs one of your hands and brings it up to his hair, encouraging you to thread your fingers there. His fingers that are teasing you spread you open more, and he groans, "Oh yeah you're my thing." 

Jake's tongue traces over you, probing until he finds the spot that makes your hips jump. Once Jake finds your clit he doesn't waste his time. Widening his mouth, he latches on and sucks. While he starts gently, he ramps up to sucking hard and twisting his tongue as he does. When you pull at his hair, he moans encouragingly.

"More," you request tugging his hair gently. Jake listens, sliding a finger into you. Whispering praise into your thighs about how pretty you are and how good you taste. You don't know how long Jake spends between your thighs, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry. He sucks and licks, fucking his finger into you until the sound is sloppy and wet. He slips a second finger in, stretching you, occasionally scissoring them wider open in you. 

Even when you are whining and gasping, working against Jake's tongue, he doesn't let up. You don't have the mind to worry how you're trying to suffocate him with your thighs, which he keeps pushing back open with no complaints. All that you can focus on is Jake, how good he is making you feel, and how close you're getting. It's a matter of time until you're shuddering and falling apart for him.  

Continuing to lavish attention even as you jerk with sensitivity, Jake seems content to keep eating you out. You try to pull him away by his hair, but he just licks into you harder. "Jake, enough," you whine, trying to wiggle away from his mouth.

 "I haven't had my fill yet, Doll," he says, pulling his mouth off you but not going far, pressing wet kisses to your thighs. 

"I haven't even seen your cock yet, and I don't know why it isn't in me." You say, trying to reason with him. It doesn't come out very strong, though as Jake's fingers curl in you, making your cunt flutter. 

"Patience is a virtue," he teases.

"Being virtuous isn't really at the forefront of my mind at the moment."

Jake sighs dramatically and presses one more kiss to your pussy before sitting back on his haunches. You can see the hard outline of him in his briefs as he gets off the bed. You watch his every move closely, more than ready to finally see him naked.

However, Jake is clearly taking some sort of joy from making you wait, because he detours to start picking up your hastily thrown clothing. As he is laying them out on the chair, you lose your patience. Grabbing one of his decorative pillows, you throw it at him. It smacks him between his shoulder blades before dropping to the floor with a thunk. 

Spinning to face you, Jake crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge, his eyebrow raised. "Did you just hit me with a pillow?" 

"No, I wouldn't do that," You deny trying to look innocent. Jake tsks at you, picking up the makeshift weapon and setting that neatly on the chair as well. 

"Being desperate for my cock isn't an excuse to misbehave, baby." 

"Big talk for someone who still hasn't shown it to me. It's okay if you don't have a pretty dick, Jake. It won't change how I feel. I'm still going to want you to fuck me."  

Goading someone into action was a wonderful tactic you had learned over the course of your friendship with Jake. Something he easily did with others, and something tonight that it proved was just as effective against him because he doesn't even respond to your words. Sliding off his underwear, his dick springs free. He's hard from eating you out, and just from the first glance you get, it's clear there isn't one thing for him to be self-conscious about. 

The fleshy pink length is nestled among dark hair, and the size of him is nothing to dismiss. It's a very symmetrical cock, lining up nicely with his balls and adonis belt. Bouncing a bit as he gets back on the bed, you can't bring yourself to look away. You know he is going to fill you so deliciously. When he's finally close enough for you to touch, you hesitate though. 

"Speechless?" Jake wonders, with no ounce of shame or self-consciousness present. 

"Can I touch?" You ask. Jake nods, taking your hand and bringing it to your mouth. You suck a few of your fingers in, wetting them with your spit. Then he guides your hand to his dick, encouraging you to wrap it around him. Jake's hand covers yours for the first few strokes, showing you what he likes, but then it falls away, letting you explore. He grunts when you trace one of the veins that runs along the side, following it down to cup his balls. He allows your teasing for a few more strokes before he pulls you close, kissing you hard. 

The hard planes of Jake's naked body pressed against yours is nearly too much. He is so close and yet not close enough. With some gentle maneuvering, Jake is in between your legs and checking that the position is comfortable for you. Jake runs his length through your lips, the head bumping into your clit. Despite all the encouragement and build up, he's still not in a hurry. When his cock is wet from you, it starts to slide effortlessly. Losing your patience, you cup Jake's face, making him look you in the eyes. 

"Jake, fuck me now. Please." You say. He nods, kissing you slowly. Then finally, he grabs his cock lining himself up and pushing the tip into you. When his pelvis meets yours, he holds himself there, your breaths mingling together in light pants as he stretches you out. The time he gives you to stretch and adjust is necessary, but once you have, Jake fills you deliciously. 

"How're you feeling baby?" He asks. Your thumb moves across his cheekbone, soothing until the worry lines between his eyebrows disappear. Only responding when you know you're okay and so is he, "Perfect. Feel so full of you."

"I'll fill you up," Jake promises. 

"Yeah?" You ask. He hums his agreement and rocks his hips against your experimental, drawing a small gasp from you. 

"Promise," he says, starting a lazy punctuated rhythm, moving his hips against yours. Your hands explore the skin of his back as he thrusts into you. You hike a leg up on Jake's hips, letting him get a little deeper in you. The action makes him moan, and he pulls your other leg up around his hip, too. 

Hooking your ankles together, you use the leverage to encourage Jake to fuck into you faster. Digging your heels into his ass and lifting your hips up to meet each of his thrusts increases the heat boiling between you. His face falling into your neck, Jake starts whispering dirty praise about how good you feel around him and how long he's been dreaming about this. 

Stamina clearly isn't something that Jake is lacking in. He fucks you until you are both dripping with sweat, and you are begging for him noncoherently, unable to process anything but how good his cock feels. He maintains a steady rhythm, snapping his hips to meet yours the whole time. 

"You feel so good. Want to get you there again. What do you need?" Jake pants huskily. 

"Harder," you answer shakily, snaking your hand to play with your clit. You're close, and you know it's not going to take much more for you to get there with how long Jake's been building you up. He listens, slamming his hips more pointedly into you, grinding his pelvis every time he bottoms out. 

Huffing, Jake pulls out of you a few minutes later. Making you cry out wantonly, reaching for his retreating body. He takes a moment to kiss both your hands that he unhooks from his neck. Then, shushing you gently, he grabs a pillow and lifting your hips, he slides it under them.

"It's okay, just a little better angle." He explains to you. You flop back on the bed, content to have Jake manhandle you any which way he wants if it means he'll be in you again.  

"Oh, you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" He asks, as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty and wanting him. His fingers dipping in to play with the wet dripping from you. A flash of shame passes through you as he asks that. You drop your arms that had been reaching out for him back to the bed, and you screw your eyes shut, turning your face to the side looking away from him. 

Jake had already got you to cum once, and it was possible he didn't want you all over him as he was trying to get off now. Preferences were probably something y'all should have talked about more in depth before jumping into intimacy. You didn't want him to think you were overly needy or hard to please. You didn't want to ruin what you and Jake could have the very first time together. Noticing the shift in your enthusiasm Jake immediately stops pressing his cock into you, worriedly asking, "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," you answer, staring up at the ceiling looking for patterns there. It's easier to play this off if you don't have to look at him; easier if you don't have to acknowledge the unexpected, unwelcome swell of emotion that's overcoming you. 

"Doll, look at me." He orders you, but you shake your head, refusing. Jake grips your chin, tilting your face to meet his eyes. They are intense studying you intently, completely focused on you. "The honesty we just promised each other needs to extend to sex nearly more than anywhere else going forward with this relationship," Jake says seriously. His hard dick is pressed against your thigh, and you don't know how he's able to have such a level-headed conversation considering the circumstances, just having been balls deep in you a minute ago. "So, what's wrong?" 

"I don't want to be too high maintenance or needy," You sigh, trying to work through your words. Knowing this conversation is important, but also not completely sure how to express what you're feeling. "Sometimes I might seem needy, or maybe I could take a while to cum or not at all, which wouldn't be a reflection of you. I don't want you to think, well, I don't want to be too much for you to change your mind about this, and now I'm ruining the mood with a dumb fucking insecurity."

"Stop," Jake says gently, but leaving no room for argument. "You haven't ruined anything. I'm sorry I called your pussy needy. I didn't know it would make you feel this way. Can I tell you something, though, Doll?" When you give a hesitant nod, Jake's voice drops so low it's nearly gravelly. "I want you to be needy. I want your pussy desperate for my cock, desperate for my cum. I want you as desperate for me as I am for you." 

"You're desperate for me too?"

"Frantically and wildly so." He answers easily. Then he asks with his thumb ghosting over your nub, "Are we okay? Is this still okay?" 

"Yeah, this is good," You sigh, enjoying the zing that runs up your back when he nudges your clit more pointedly. 

Jake grabs his cock, giving it a few languid strokes before he guides it back into you. You push your hips up to meet him. The new angle that the pillow gives him leverage to hit somewhere that's just a delicious feeling. As he rocks into you, his thumb maintains its place on your clit. Your fear of the mood having been ruined proves wrong as the coil in your core quickly builds, pushing you near the edge once more. 

"Cum in me, Jake, please. Give me a baby," you request, your thighs quivering as you near your orgasm. 

As his hips snap nearly frantically, Jake rolls your clit over in nearly the same rhythm. He moans your name a minute later, falling over the edge and spilling inside of you. Though his hips stutter to a stop leaving himself fully seated in you, he continues working over your clit. It doesn't take long until you're dissolving into pleasure along with him. 

The ripples run through your body, and you feel every muscle tense and relax, turning into jelly. Jake grunts when you spasm around him but doesn't move or pull out until you've fully melted into the bed on the downward crest of your peak. 

When he does pull out, he doesn't go far, shifting enough to spoon you. Settling behind you, Jake pulls you close to his chest, wrapping you tight in his arms. His hand is tracing lazy patterns on your hip and occasionally venturing to the soft skin of your belly. You don't have the mind to be self-conscious at the moment, still a little too blissed out. It takes significant brain power to process his question when he asks, "Do you actually want to have a baby?" 

"Do you?" You wonder. 

"You can't answer a question with a question," Jake chastises you. Turning in his arms so you are sprawled against his chest, you snuggle close, nuzzling him affectionately. 

"Do you know how it was seeing you with Jackson today?" You ask him. 

"If it was even half of how it felt seeing you hold him, then I'm sorry." 

"Whatever you felt, double it. Triple it even." You say lightly. "It was enough for me to ask my friend, who I thought could never want me, for a baby." 

"I do want you," Jake immediately reassures you. 

"Thank goodness for baby fever, then. Because at least now we know we want each other," you reason, slowly starting to draw mindless patterns of your own against his skin. 

Jake heaves a sigh and strokes his hand down your back, wondering, "Was this just baby fever?" 

"No," you answer after thinking about it for a long span of silence. "I would have a baby with you. It seems right. I want that, I think." You can feel the relief in his body, hearing that, all his tension easing into relaxation. 

"Good," is the only response he gives you, kissing the crown of your head. You expect more but don't get it. Rather, Jake seems content to just bask in the afterglow. That doesn't seem to be too bad an idea, so you close your eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat.  

When you wake up from your impromptu nap, you're not alone in bed. However, you are now under the covers of a different comforter than there was before, and Jake is no longer acting as your pillow. He is on the other side of the bed, but his hand is stretched out, grazing the middle of your back. 

Rolling to face him, you admire the sight he makes stretched out on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Jake's got a book open, folded in half, clearly abusing the book's binding just so he can have one hand on you. When he notices you sleepily admiring him, Jake shoots you a soft smile. 

"Hey baby," he whispers. 

"Hi," You whisper back scooting closer to him and grab the hand that had been touching you, threading your fingers together. 

"Let's go on a date," Jake suddenly springs on you, squeezing your hand. 

"I would love that," you respond, feeling giddy as butterflies erupt in your stomach. "Want something first, though."

"I already told you I would give you anything you want, and I meant it," Jake says, setting his book on his bedside table and giving you his full attention. 

"Good, because I want round two and a shower, which hopefully has round three involved." 

"Your wish is my command," Jake says easily. You move even closer to him so your lips are only a breath apart. "I meant it, the ring, the house, the baby. I can make it all happen by tomorrow." 

"Let's start with breakfast in bed," you say, kissing him hard. When your lips hardly touch because you're both smiling too wide, well, that actually makes it feel all the better. 

[tetzoro]

FROM THE START — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. jean kirstein !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : your last semester is coming to a close with finals only a breath away. but your feelings for jean rage now more than ever. with a ticking clock now set, there’s only a matter of time left to confess your true feelings.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI! f!reader. college au, pwp, mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex, praise, fingering, pet names (pretty girl, baby), jean has a horsecock, creampie. — WC : 5.1k.

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : this was going to be from a series i started a long time ago but i just condensed it into one lil fic. enjoy ^_^

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

“alright hot shot, tell me what you see.” jean asks, readying his pen up, wiggling himself in false anticipation. you roll your eyes and lay your head back on the towel.

you took a moment to appreciate your surroundings. the way the sun kissed your face, it’s touch warming your whole body up in the softest form of intimacy. gazing up at the clouds, you see a few notable shapes you could point out but your eyes wander to the water. the sound of crashing waves further soothing your mind as you take it all in. off on the horizon, you see the perfect formation of clouds.

“there!” you point up at a cluster of clouds. “it looks like a pirate ship with a whale swimming under it.”

“where the hell-“ jean trailed off, searching the sky for whatever abomination you were looking at. it was your guys' favorite game to play. you got to cloudgaze and point out the shapes in the sky while jean did a quick sketch of it so you could hold onto your piece of the cloud forever. “you’ve been watching too much one piece.” he grumped, starting to sketch.

“oh shut up.” giggling, you flip onto your stomach, watching him as he sketches. he always did a quick one, not wanting to linger on something for too long as he wanted to keep playing. his face was relaxed except for his eyebrows. the furrow of his brow matching the intensity of the grip on his pencil as it flew across the page. he was so lost in his own little world he didn’t realize you were staring. 

sighing from the lack of attention, you flip back over to look at the water. the waves were a force today, so strong that it scared even you to go into the water. but everyone else chanced fate as they swam around the shore.

“you better get your asses in the water!” eren shouts, making his way to you guys. judging by the look on his face, he was serious. 

“it’s too salty, i always get the water in my mouth.” jean complained, tucking his sketchbook away as eren made his approach. you never knew what kind of stunt he was going to pull.

“yeah? you wouldn’t even go in to save a damsel in distress?” eren smirked, his gaze turning on you as the water droplets dripped down his body.

“eren don’t you da-“ you squeal as he hoists you up, running towards the water as your literally kicking and screaming. eren just laughed as he rushed into the waves. the water wasn’t as cold as you thought it would be but it was still a shock. one that shut you up and made you cling to eren. “don’t you dare drop me.”

“wasn’t planning on it.” he smirked, giving you a tiny wink. “i was going to throw you.”

“eren!” you scream as he tosses you into the waves, water flowing into your mouth as you sunk down a little. you weren’t under the tide for long as an arm wrapped itself around your waist, pulling you up from under. 

“you’re such an ass.” jean’s voice rang out over erens laughter. you rub your eyes, trying to get excess water out before you turn your glare towards eren. you break from jeans’ hold as you launch yourself towards him, trying to push your weight on his head to push him under the water. but of course, he doesn’t budge.

“you’re so annoying.” you hiss, trying not to break out into giggles. “you always pull that shit.”

“come on, you like it. otherwise you would’ve learned your lesson by now and come swim with all of us sooner.”

you scoff, knowing that in his own twisted way, he was right. beach days like this were hard to come by, and with finals around the corner, it was much needed. 

mikasa and armin were on the shore, oblivious to the games that you guys were playing as they looked for shells. armin had his collection in his dorm, all the ones he’s found stuffed into a jar. 

connie and sasha had been in the ocean awhile ago but got out to take a snack break, leaving eren all alone in the water. hence, eren coming to bother you and jean. 

“still.” jean rolls his eyes, making his way by your side. “it’s not like you give us a chance to come in by ourselves. we’ve been here for what, 30 minutes?”

“classic jean, always complaining about something.” eren rolls his eyes right back at him, effectively pushing jeans buttons.

“why you little—“ jean took a step forward, only to be stopped by your hand on his chest. you look over and eren who tried to puff up his, ready for jean to come at him.

“alright guys, knock it off.” you sigh, looking over to mikasa for back up. like a sixth sense, she knew you needed her and made eye contact with you. it didn’t take her long to reach your side.

“eren, come help me and armin with the shells.” she said, her gentle yet commanding voice taking over the previous tension. eren scoffs again, immediately turning pink as mikasa touches his arm, trying to coax him to come with her.

that was all it took— the two setting off to the shore and back to armin. leaving you and jean alone once again.

“anyway,” you drag out the word, turning to face jean. he had calmed down a little but no one could rile him up like eren could. “wanna find connie and sasha? maybe see what they found to eat?”

“like they’d share.” he laughed, looking down at you. “besides, i’m kind of used to the water now. we might as well enjoy it since we are here.”

“are you being optimistic?” you tease, splashing him with the water. he looked at you with intense mock offense.

“i’m always optimistic!” he retorts, splashing more water back at you.

“yeah, right. you mean you’re always so dramatic.” you laugh, keeping up the game your started as you push water towards him.

“i’m gonna get you for that.” he laughs, splashing again. you two go at it for awhile until jean accidentally took in a mouthful of water — one of the waves not too kindly crashing over him. he spits it out with a disgusted face, his tongue slightly hanging out as the salt water rests on it. “blegh. this always happens to me. c’mon, let’s get out of here. we should probably get ready for the party tonight anyway.”

you nod, excitement flooding your veins for the party later. everyone was going to be there and you needed time to get ready and more importantly, get the salt water out of your hair.

you didn’t get a chance to look at him before, but as jean walked out of the water, you were painfully reminded at how fit he was. water droplets cascaded down his body, following the dips and curves of his muscles. even his mullet looked good, all slicked back and drenched in the salt water.

you let out a silent sigh as you follow him out of the water, mentally kicking yourself for staring at him for too long again. but the feelings he gave you swirled in your stomach, expanding to every synapse in your body before exploding.

tonight would be the night you tell him. tonight will be the night everything will change.

jeans fingers clenched around the solo cup, the sound of it snapping easily getting lost in the sea of voices that filled the room. the remnants of his beer trickled along his fingers before he threw it to the side, wiping the rest on his pants in a haste.

it only took him a few steps to get where he needed to be — right in front of you. you with your perfect smile, perfect laugh, perfect perfect perfect. it’s all he could think when he saw you. how could you not realize that?

“you okay, jean?” you ask, the words sounding so sweet coming out of your mouth that all he wanted to do was savor them. your expression caught him off guard though, the sweet words not adding up to the coy grin you had spreading across your plush lips. “you look kind of angry.”

jean didn’t know what to say. did you know how he felt? were you trying to play him out to be a fool? but as soon as he heard erens stupid giggle, the words didn’t stop flowing from his mouth.

“you got a problem jaeger? something seem funny to you?” he snapped at eren, his voice low, signaling he wasn’t in the mood. but of course, eren was eren, and he loved nothing more than making a fool out of jean.

“yeah, actually.” he sneered, taking a step closer to jean. “i do think something’s funny.”

“enlighten me then. id love to hear what you find so funny.” jean fired back, taking a closer step to him, clenching his fist. they hadn’t fought in awhile but today, jean needed to let out some of his frustration. why did eren get your attention tonight? why couldn’t you talk to him instead?

he didn’t realize how close he had gotten to eren, practically touching noses, until he felt your light touch on his shoulder. a touch he had grown to be familiar with, something that never failed to soothe him, even just a little bit.

“guys, stop.” your voice breaks out. it was smooth, soft, but they both knew that underneath it lied something vicious. neither one wanted to see that side come from you, especially since mikasa was already side eyeing them. the two of you together was one of the scariest things anyone could ever face.

jean and eren took a hasty step away from each other, scowling and avoiding eye contact with one another. your hand slid from his shoulder down jean’s bicep, holding onto him gently. the act itself was so soft yet it held so much power over him. he couldn't help but lean into it before deciding to throw an arm around your shoulder.

something always felt so right when you were tucked under him like this. you fit so perfectly. your arm wrapped around his waist and he led you to the living room, away from eren.

“so, wanna tell me what happened back there?” you ask as the two of you manevoured towards your favorite spot. at every party, you guys would always find yourself at this spot by the end of the night. it was so cozy, the couch tucked in the corner of the room, away from the main sitting area.

he sat down and you followed suit. looking up at him, he looked slightly disheveled. his normally tamed mullet was all of the place, the result of him running his hands through it one too many times. plus, he didn’t look back at you. the bob of his left leg going up and down at an incredible speed. 

you place your hand lightly on his leg and the response was immediate. his leg halted its movement and his eyes found yours in record time. offering him a small smile, you reach up to smooth his hair back.

“nothing happened.” he said softly, watching you very carefully as you tended to him. relishing in the touch you gave him. “don’t worry about it.”

“jean,” you start, your hand caressing down his cheek, moving over to tuck some of his hair behind his ear. “you know you can talk to me, right?”

his cheeks were tinted pink, something you chalked up to the alcohol he was drinking earlier. but his gaze was set on you, peering down deep into your eyes. the contact almost made you shudder. 

“i know.” he bit the inside of his cheek as he contemplated what he wanted to say— or rather, how he wanted to say it. “i just got jealous is all.”

this, you weren’t expecting. out of all the things jean could’ve said, this never crossed your mind. the shock had your head reeling back, removing your hand from his hair. the loss of contact stirred a panic within him, mirroring the panic that was starting to bubble up in you.

“jealous?” you squeak out. jealous of what? of eren? or you? or what? jean stared into your eyes for a moment, the anticipation was rippling down your spine, finding it’s home in your stomach. 

“yes.” he breathed out softly, placing his hand over the one you had resting on the couch. “i was jealous.”

“of what?” you blink, at war with yourself. his hand felt heavy, almost suffocating but it was the only thing that could soothe you. the room was too small and the alcohol was churning in your stomach. your hand turned over, gripping onto his as a way to ground yourself in the moment.

“of eren.” he said, his brows furrowing as he took in your reaction. he didn’t mean for this to come out now, but you looked so sincere when you told him to talk to you. all the things he’s never told you bubbled up in his throat, threatening to spill out if he didn’t do something. his fight or flight was activated, and he didn’t want to run away this time. “i wanted you-“

the gears start turning in your head as he spoke, knocking off the dust before it struck like clockwork. 

the room around you guys came back into focus as someone knocked their drink over you both. the liquid seeped into the fabric of your dress, eliciting chills all over you but you weren’t sure if it was from this or from the conversation you were having.

normally, you’d laugh something like this off. it had happened before and it was bound to happen again. but the stakes had been too high, your emotions were already being drawn out and this was just too much. 

“im so sorry-“ reiner said, trying his best to find something to help clean you up. all you could do was stare at your stained dress. what was jean going to tell you?

“way to go reiner.” jean hissed, standing up to face him. reiner was at a loss for words; it was an honest mistake. but jean wasn’t mad at him, he wasn’t even mad that he spilled his drink on you guys — accidents happen. no, he was furious because you were on the verge of tears and he couldn’t tell if it was because of him or not.

“jean.” you say, grabbing his clenched fist. he hadn’t even realized he had been so wound up. he helps pull you up, tucking you back under his arm. the smell of his colonge enveloped you in a warm embrace, one that felt familiar to you and cleared your head from the fog that was slowly wrapping itself around you. “let’s get cleaned up.”

he froze. he absolutely froze. the tiniest smirk rose on reiner’s face as he turned away, getting back to the party. jean wanted to punch it right off. 

“let’s go to the bathroom.”  he steered you away from the party towards the back of the house. many faces passed you guys as you walked forward, but all you could do was look at the man leading you. he held onto your hand as he dragged you through the party, pulling you behind him so you don’t get separated.

your eyes trail along his arm, lingering ever so slightly at his bicep — was his shirt always that tight? he looked good, even though parts of it held remnants of reiners drink. continuing upwards, you land on his face. 

his jaw was tensed as he pulled you through the crowd. determined, fierce. like it was his duty to escort you to the bathroom and it wasn’t something he took lightly. in all your years you knew jean, you don’t think you had ever seen him as clearly as you did in this moment.

you two make it to the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom, shutting the door and closing you both in. 

“i’m sorry about reiner.” he sighs, moving to grab a towel as you hop up on the counter. you watch him move with a strong purpose, a serious one that involves drying your dress. 

“it’s okay, accidents happen.” you shrug as he starts patting the towel against the cloth, trying to absorb whatever he can. but you both know the damage was done — the dress was stained and seeped with alcohol, it’s only hope was to throw it in the washer. 

“i think we need to call it.” he says with a small smile, looking up at you perched on his counter. you smile back down at him before feigning a frown. 

“so soon? not even giving her a proper fighting chance?” you sigh, “but if you insist, what are our options.”

“well,” he took a step back to hang up the towel, the loss of his presence already hitting you in the gut. “you’ll have to wash it but in the meantime i can give you some of my clothes to wear.”

“aw, thank you jeanbo.” you hop off the counter. “that would be perfect.”

taking your hand, he leads you into his bedroom before he searches for something suitable for you to wear. you look around his room in the meantime, your eyes landing on his sketchbook — open to the boat he was drawing earlier at the beach. you smile to yourself, glad that he has kept it. 

jean breaks you out of your head, tossing you some clothes and you go back into his bathroom to change into them.

after peeling your dress off and throwing on the clothes he gave you, you walk back into his room and see him sitting idly on the couch, twiddling his thumbs before you capture his gaze. 

“what?” you ask him, eyes widening as you catch him staring. he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away like he wasn’t just giving you his undivided attention.

“nothing!” he quickly says, slightly pink in the cheeks as he turns back towards you. “it’s just, you look good in my clothes.”

“oh?” you give him a little smirk and he regrets ever opening his mouth. rolling his eyes, he goes to retort but it dies in his throat before he ever had the chance to spit it out.

you were right in front of him — how you got there so quickly, he’ll never know. the palms of your hands rest on his shoulder before you lower your face to his level. 

“you really think so?” you tilt your head to the side with a smile, one of your hands running up along his neck and to the back of his head, playing with the edges of his mullet.

you weren’t sure what made you feel so emboldened, the alcohol you had earlier was long out of your system. but something pushed you towards him like a magnet, a voice in your head encouraging you to finally confess like you planned.

“i really do.” his breath almost hitches as he looks at you. “you always look good though, the prettiest girl in the world.”

his compliment hits you in the chest, blooming into a warmth that seeped through every nerve in your body. your faces were so close, your breathing was shallow, all it would take was a little nudge to — 

but he beats you too it, forever a man driven by impulse. surging himself forward to capture your lips against his, pouring every ounce of passion into it — desperate to let you know how he feels without uttering a word. 

his hand cradles loosely around your neck, using it to pull you forward so you’re falling into his lap. your heart was soaring with each kiss, already addicted to the way he makes you feel — how dizzy your mind grew as his sweet kisses filled your head.

“is this okay?” jean whispered against your lips. everything was so warm; like the beginning of summer igniting that special buzz in the air. you wanted it to swallow you whole, you wanted this more than you have ever wanted anything before in your life. you nod against him, moving your lips back onto his in a hurried fashion. 

jean wasted no time now. he wrapped his arms around you and hiked you further up onto his lap, groaning so sweetly into the kiss you two shared. as each passing second went on, the messier the kiss got. breathing was the last thing on your mind right now, all you could do was feed off of what jean was giving you and hoped it would be enough to sustain you.

jean was no better, his hands couldn’t stay still. finally, he was able to be with you, no more dancing around each other. a part of him wanted to kick himself for waiting so long but the other part told him to enjoy this moment. so he planned on it.

his hands slide up under your shirt, the cold metal from his rings causes you to gasp at the sudden contact, arching your back and pressing your chest against him. jean took the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth, pulling you in closer. 

there was no telling how long you two stayed tangled up together on the little couch in his room, the make out session only growing needier and needier. years of pent up tension was finally able to flow. 

“let’s move on the bed, yeah?” jean asked, his eyes still shut from your kiss.

“yeah.” you nod, pulling him in for another kiss as you both stand up. he walks backwards toward his bed before the back of his knees hit it. he sits, pulling you down on top of him once again, his hips moving up so you can feel his hardness ache for you.

“been wanting this for so long.” he murmurs, moving his lips from yours, to your cheek, down your jaw and back to yours for a heated kiss. “ever since i met you.”

“me too.” you breathe out, already craving to be closer to him. “can't wait any longer.”

hooking his hands under your backside, he quickly flips you so you’re under him, sprawled out on his bed in ways he’s dreamed about for years. 

“me neither.” he surges back down, his kiss growing needier with every second. the clothes you had just graciously put on were now being pulled off by him — along with his own. he pulls back for a moment to admire you, taking in every curve of your body. you almost want to shy away from his gaze but the look in his eye was so loving, so full of adoration, that you didn’t. “you’re so beautiful.”

and with the way he said it, you believed it.

he doesn’t waste anymore time, moving you around so he can ease himself over you, slotting himself between your legs. his hair fell in front of his face a bit so you reach up, tucking it back behind his ear. the sweet, simple gesture sent him into overdrive, hungrily kissing you as a man who had been deprived of it since the day he met you.

his hand smoothes down your side before his fingers find themselves between your thighs. hestitantly, he prods against your slick entrance, almost nervous to take the plunge. but you’re quick to reassure him, rolling your hips to greedily suck his digit in.

he moans into your mouth, feeling how tight you are around his finger. his mind already wandering to how snug his cock will feel once he’s  finally inside of you. but he knows he has to prep you first, slipping in another finger to properly stretch you out.

and the sweet noises you make fill his head with a peace he’s always longed for. every sense was focused on you, addicted to showering you in pleasure. he could spend all day doing this, soaking up every mewl of his name.

“jean, please.” you pull back a bit to speak, the sounds of your cunt squelching from his fingers filling the room. “need you to fuck me.”

“anything you want.” he kisses the corner of your mouth, quickly taking a hold of his cock and pressing it against your entrance. “you ready for me?”

“i am.” you nod, hips already moving as you try to find friction. he starts to push in, the tip of his cock already stretching you out. the girth alone has your toes curling but it felt like his cock was never ending — consistently shoving more of it in, inch by thick inch. 

“almost there, pretty girl.” he grunts, eyes trained on you, searching for any hint of pain. the stretch felt so good, splitting you open as he finally bottoms out. you both let out a gasp, your warm walls snuggly wrapped around his cock in a heaven he never dreamed of existing.

he murmurs sweet praises in your ear as he lets you adjust, telling you how good you are, how tight you feel. softly kissing your temple as you give him the go ahead to move.

he starts slow, sensual. taking his time and dragging his cock in and out, searching for that special button deep inside of you. 

it felt like he was everywhere, so lodged up into you, you swore you could feel the tip of his cock pressing against your heart. it stole your breath away, lungs losing function as you gasp for air.

“that’s it, baby, just keep taking it. i promise i’m gonna make you feel so good, okay? you don’t have to do a thing.” he kisses your neck, leaving little marks of love in his wake. “you’re already doing s’much, making me feel so, so good.”

“jean i-.” you croak out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he finds the soft, cushiony part of you, a place where your fingers could never reach. he completely filled you up, your mind already growing hazy from it.

“gonna go faster, okay?” he presses a soft kiss against your jaw, your head nodding along to whatever he was saying. “so good f’me.”

his praise has you clenching around him, eliciting a guttural moan from him. it was all it took to break the last bit of his resolve — hips starting to snap against yours.

there was no way you could stay quiet, the pleasure was overwhelming, leaving you to forget where you were. the cry of his name had his ego soaring, cockiness filling his veins. his hand covers your mouth as he drives into you harder.

“can’t be too loud, unless you want everyone at the party to know how good i’m making you feel.” he murmurs. you could tell by his tone that he was feeling as good as you were, pleasure already threatening to consume him the longer he thrust into you.

his hand lowers from your mouth, opting to use it to hike up your leg, propping it over his shoulder. if it was even possible, he was deeper — his cock practically kissing your cervix.

he knew he wasn’t going to last long. a nearly impossible task that he knew going in, he’d fail. but as long as you came around his cock, he’d count it as a win.

his deft fingers find your neglected nub and your body all but jolts under his hold. he swirls your clit around in measured circles, your cries only growing louder. but he’s too entranced to cover them up — every instinct telling him to keep giving you more.

“jean!” you cry, “i’m s-so close!”

“go ahead and let go f’me, need to feel you.” he encourages, hitting that spongey part harder as his fingers deliciously dance along your clit. his approval pushed your over the edge, back arching up as ecstasy took you away.

the sight alone had jean’s hips stuttering. as if you could read his mind, you said, “cum inside, jean. need you to fill me up.

the whine you let out had him pushing his pulsing cock as deep as he could before releasing inside of you. his hips jolt with each rope of cum, groans of your name slipping out of his mouth as he fills you up. every time you clenched around him only pulled more cum out of him.

“cant stop cumming, fuck-.” he rasped out, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he finally finishes. he falls beside you, trying not to put all his weight on you as his cock continues to twitch in your warmth.

all you can do is try to catch your breath, gazing at each other, sharing the same thought of why did this take you so long.

he slowly pulls out of you, both of you letting out a soft noise. pressing a kiss to your head, he stands up and grabs a towel, carefully cleaning you up. 

once he’s done, he lays back down in bed, his back hitting the pillows as he pulls you up into his arms. your head rests against his chest, no doubt listening to his ever-racing heart — the one that only beats for you.

“jean-“ you say at the same time as he says your name. you both giggle at each other, feeling weightless in each other's embrace. 

“you go.” he encourages you, moving so he can get a better look at you. 

“i um.” you feel heat rise to your face. after everything you just did, confessing your feelings still feels nerveracking. but looking into his warm eyes, it melts away those doubts, filling them with hope instead. “i love you.”

“i love you too.” his face splits into a smile, one that eases your soul and lulls you into him. he takes a deep breath, ready to spill out everything he’s been feeling. “i want you to be mine. i want to wake up next to you everyday, i want to draw you pictures of the clouds all day long, i want to kiss you whenever you need a kiss, i want to hold your hands on the days that life feels too much. please, be my girlfriend.”

“of course jean.” you smile, leaning up to press a lingering kiss on his cheek. “i was yours from the start.”

[clericofmystra]

Specialized tags thus far:

Shadowheart: #stow that blade or i'll show you just how messy things can get

Gale: #ch: there's a mighty bargain to be made

Mystra: #ch: grace; power; wisdom

Karlach: #ch: how would you feel about helping me kill some evil bastards

Lae'zel: #ch: you may as well suggest a wyvern bow to worms

Wyll: #ch: all i can hope for's to limit the damage

Larissa, my knowledge cleric of Mystra: #ch: tav called larissa

Gale/Larissa(/Mystra): #ship: something like the anticipation of a kiss

Shadowheart/Karlach: #ship: she could throw me over her shoulder

Text posts: #t: the sacred text posts

Nearly all the tags are direct references to establishing moments in the game.

1— Shadowheart's tag: If you have others in the party when you first meet Astarion, and don't perceive his attack coming, Shadowheart will tell him, "I need her alive—stow that blade or I'll show you just how messy things can get."

2— Gale's tag: If you talk to other party members after Raphael's offer, Gale ultimately concludes, "Devils aren't known to aid mortals out of simple kindness. Whatever Raphael wants, we must be the key to getting it. Along with our tadpoles ... So I say for now—we wait. If I'm right, Raphael will seek us out again. And when he does, there's a mighty bargain to be made."

3— Mystra's tag: During the channelling of the Weave scene with Gale, he tells you to picture the concept of harmony as truly as you can. As a cleric of Mystra, you get this option: Focus on Mystra's grace. Her power. The peace you find in following her wisdom.

4— Karlach's tag: when you recruit Karlach, you can bring up Wyll's pursuit, and she'll say, "Ugh. Thought I'd lost the Blade of Frontiers on the mind flayer ship. Well, if it isn't obvious by now, he's wrong about me. I'll prove it to him if he stops swinging that sword around long enough to listen to sense. Now that we're old pals, how would you feel about helping me kill some evil bastards?"

5— Lae'zel's tag: When you rescue Lae'zel from the trap, you can suggest she might at least thank you. She contemptuously says, "You may as well suggest a wyvern bow to worms. The cure I offer will suffice as thanks."

6— Wyll's tag: When you're first talking with Wyll in the grove, there's a chance to succeed on a history check and identify what he means by advocatus diaboli. You can then respond, "Do you think she'll bring the Blood War to Faerûn?" Wyll replies, "That ship's sailed the Styx already. All I can hope for's to limit the damage."

7— Not really a proper tag for Larissa yet!

8— Gale/Larissa/Mystra tag: I called my fic for this "the worst OT3" because Gale's channelling the Weave scene with a cleric of Mystra is hilariously shippy in every direction yet so, so doomed. As said cleric, you can go through with focusing on Mystra's grace, power, and wisdom, and then sense "the unmistakable presence of Mystra, the Lady of Mysteries. There's something like the anticipation of a kiss, then the pleasure of being cloaked in peace. You are safe. You are nestled in the cup of Mystra's hand." The cleric can then respond, "It's not quite like praying to her. She feels closer, somehow." Gale says, "Quite so. The Weave is a sensitive conduit." 👀

(I use the tag for both the Gale/cleric of Mystra wtfery and Gale/Larissa/Mystra.)

9— Shadowheart/Karlach tag: After Karlach's introduction, one of your party members will comment on her inclusion in the group. Usually it seems to be Gale remarking that Karlach is a little rough around the edges, but he's smooth enough for two (lol), but in this game, it was Shadowheart, who said, "I like her. She looks like she could throw me over her shoulder and carry me to safety ..... should the need arise." 👀👀

[amarmoria]

Nepenthe Ⅳ

Qimir x Padawan! Reader

Synopsis: Why would your master want a padawan like you when he has his acolyte?

Notes: thank you guys for your support, like for real, please like, comment or reblog so I'll know if u want me to continue the story!

You felt.. weird.

In a way, nothing looked wrong, you left immediately after you got your clothes, but there was something, you couldn't point your finger at it.

Was it because he was so eerily welcoming? Or the fact that him, a Jedi, let you go so quickly? No interrogation or anything, not even a slight inspection, well maybe they did when you were unconscious, but still, there was something.

You looked behind you one last time before hurriedly entering your ship, you felt safe there, knowing your master blessed this ship (i mean, he stepped on it once but never after that anyways—)

You hear the animal chittering from afar, at least someone was waiting for you.

"Helloo" you couldn't stop the smile on your face when you picked him up, or her? You still couldn't think of a name, or if you can even keep it, maybe you can keep it hidden in your ship until you convince Qimir to let it live with him..

The ground beneath you shakes, a signal that you're finally home, you've never wanted to kiss the rocks of this planet so bad, normally you go on missions with Mae or Qimir, but never alone, you hated that, even without Mae, he never lets you go alone, it's bullshit, he treats you like a kid, which you are not.

Then you felt him.

Qimir.

Was he here?

You smiled and hurriedly hopped down the last step of your ship, you were buzzing in anticipation, he never visited you guys, not even once, or maybe it's whenever you weren't there, but you couldn't care less about that now, you were so excited you forgot to change from the Jedi's clothes into your own, eh, who cares.

You pause when you see your master and Mae, no Qimir in sight.

"Where did you go?" Mae says, frowning when her eyes land on your clothes. "And wha—"

"Mae."

You both straightened at the sound of his stern voice.

"Master," she bows and gives you a knowing look before swiftly leaving the cave.

"M-master—"

"Where. Were. You." It was the same question, but this time there was something more sinister in his tone. "Olega, master, I was in, in Olega to visit—"

"Him."

"Yea-- yes master"

"Hm." He looked contented for a bit, maybe it was because he couldn't hear your thoughts— no, he would've been more alarmed when he couldn't, you concealed a part where you met the Jedi, you wonder if it was working.

"Then," he was once again towering over you, menacingly staring you down with his mask, you felt the shift in his demeanor, or just something that flicked off there, you were looking directly at his chest, scared that you could burn holes in his helmet if you kept looking.

He was gripping your arm— no, he was gripping the sleeves of your clothes, you didn't know where or what he was looking at, but with the way his knuckles were turning white, you think you'd done something.

"M-master—"

"Your.."

You try and decipher what he was feeling at the moment, but that always fails every time. You frown as you try to understand his unusual intensity, the way he was visibly shaking in anger.

"A-are you alright..? You-- your—"

"What is this?" His voice was filled with anger, his saber long forgotten behind him on the counter.

"I-- I'm," you couldn't find your voice, he was scaring you like this, you don't ever see him as scary as he is in the battle field, or hunting big creatures. And as if he saw right through you.

"Answer me."

The calmness of his voice scares you even more, the explanations on your mind melts on your tongue, like cotton candy, gone away before you could munch.

"I-I don't.. it's—"

"Whose is this!"

"I don't know!"

Your lower lip trembles as you gasp, your fingers unconsciously reach over to the grip your master has on you.

"Oh you know," his chuckle sends a chill down your spine, what was wrong with him?

"You dare lie to me?"

"N-no, I wouldn't please—"

"Then tell me!" The cave seemed to shake at his voice. "Tell. Me"

He knew, but you didn't have to know that, you didn't have to tell him because he knows, he just needs you to be honest, is that so hard?

"J-jedi!"

You whimper, the grip he had on you started making your arm numb, like a blood clot. "I-it hurts please sto—"

He shoves you hard on the ground, but before you hit the surface, you feel his arm around yourself, your arms tucked in your chest with his biceps flexing in front, your back against his chest.

You don't move an inch as his breath tickles down your ear and to your neck.

"Good-" he resists the urge to finish the sentence, quickly shutting his mouth. You're painfully aware of his close proximity, your hips unintentionally buckle against him, particularly his lower regions that started to poke you earlier, didn't he have his saber on the counter?

You heard him groan, but shrugged it off thinking it was because of pain. You realized you were shivering, the cold wind was only a factor of why, you've never been this close with your master, not even Mae, his acolyte, got this direct with him.

"M-master—"

"Shh," he pauses, your feet getting raised above the ground by an inch, you were now half standing and half sitting on his lap, your cheeks burn at the slightest move the both of you make, every heartbeat felt amplified, resonating through your entire body as his presence enveloped you.

"Was that so hard?"

"W-what?"

"Telling me the truth, was it so hard for you to spit out the truth that you came in touch with a Jedi? That he, he touched you?"

You could barely think, your lungs constricted by the intensity of his gaze and the closeness of his body.

"Why? Were you trying to..." His voice was low and dark, each word dripping with an intensity that made your skin prickle. "Protect him.. perhaps?"

"No! N-no.. I wasn't, I promise, I was only—"

"Did you like it?"

You were dizzy, the warmth of his body rutting against yours felt almost electrifying, the pressure sending a jolt down through your body.

"W-wha.."

"Yord was it? Mhm," despite the anger on the way the Jedi's name rolled off his tongue, there was a fleeting softness in his eyes whenever you tried to hold onto him, did you not trust him?

You could hear the soft, ragged sounds of his breath against your ear, each exhale stirring a sense of tension and anticipation.

"Y-your scaring me—"

"Scaring you?" He sounded like he was mocking you, but there was something in his tone that tells you there was something else, something more sinister.

"You're scared of me?"

You gulp, the nod you gave was short-lived when you hear Mae's voice outside the cave, your eyes widen as you try to signal your master, but he didn't move an inch, maybe he didn't hear you?

Or maybe he just chose not to.

What was I on when I wrote this chapter 🤨