#so i said 'oh it reminded me of this one with this ingredient' just for this fucking bastard to be like 'mine doesnt' all. dismisive

[list4r]

“Eat it or no tv for you.”

“No!”

“Oh cmon you eat this every day, why not now?”

“I don’t want it! You didn’t do it right!”

“It’s a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Ain’t no right way to do it baby.”

Toji narrows his eyes at the little girl who refused to eat the sandwich he made for her. Correction: the fifth sandwich he had made because “he didn’t do it right.” If he had known this is what having a kid would be like he would’ve studied the basics of sandwich making for toddlers. Ridiculous.

“Well can you tell me the way you want it? I’m not sure what the right way is.”

“I want it like how mommy does it!”

“Well mommy is at work.”

“Then I don’t want it.” The face she makes remind him of you, she’s basically a carbon copy of you personality wise. That tiny face scrunched up when she hears or sees something she doesn’t want. It was amazing how easily she could get anything she wants, Toji was wrapped around her tiny little finger.

“Okay I’ll do it again.” He repeats the same routine of grabbing the bread and putting the peanut butter then the jelly on it. Thinking maybe he cut it wrong he decided to cut it in fours. A bad idea by the way because he is immediately hit with the hysterical cries of his toddler.

“Wait hey hey no no- don’t cry. What’s wrong? Did I do it wrong again?”

“I’m telling mommy you starving me and being a meanie daddy!”

“I’m not a meanie daddy, that’s not nice to say.”

“Uh huh!”

“Nuh uh…. Brat.” Toji scoffs as he looks around to find anything to soothe the crying child. “You want chicken nuggets? Pretty sure we got the dino ones you like so much.”

“I want- *sniffle* sandwich.”

“I made you like a 100 of them but you didn’t want them.. I don’t know what you want me to do-“

The sound of your keys turning in the door cut off his words, Toji lets out a sigh of relief. “Baby.. thank god you’re here.” He greets you with a kiss and helps you out of your outerwear, a routine you two have developed over the years.

“Why is she crying Toji? Awww what’s wrong sweetheart?” You pick up the child, holding her close as you wipe the tears off her cheeks.

“Daddy won’t feed me!”

“Wha- don’t lie to your mom like that. She just didn’t want what I made her that’s all.”

Turning to him you raise an eyebrow “what did you make for her?”

“What she always eat for lunch. Fuckin nasty ass peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

“Don’t call her food nasty in front of her. How did you make it?”

“Like how any normal person makes it.” Toji shrugs, wondering why such a question was asked.

“You have to do it a certain way or she won’t eat it.

“So she said. So I put the peanut butter-“

“No it’s the jelly first Toji.”

“What the fuck? I didn’t know there was a certain way.”

You place the child back down, gathering the ingredients. “It’s always jelly first then the peanut butter, on separate breads too don’t mix them and don’t put too much. Then cut the crusts off and cut them into three rectangles.” You say as you perfectly demonstrate how to make the sandwich. “If you don’t do it like this she won’t eat it. Learned it the hard way- here you go sweetie.”

“Thank you mommy!”

Toji scoffs at the scene, earning a giggle from the little girl happily munching away. “Tch… yeah okay I’ll remember that next she demands it.” He pretended to be annoyed but the happy giggles from his little girl cause his mouth to turn on both corners. Honestly he has a lot to learn about his dad business but having you by his side definitely makes things easier.

“Seriously, ain’t shit easy about raising a child.”

“What can I say? I’m just the best”

“Hm yeah she definitely gets her attitude from you.”

[wildwestdean]

transposition

summary: a spell goes wrong and ends up with you and sam switching bodies. neither of you tell dean, which ends up being the greatest decision you ever made

pairing: dean winchester x witch!reader; best friend!sam winchester x witch!reader (platonic, obvs)

word count: 6.3k+

warnings: swearing, mentions of magic use, misunderstandings, miscommunication, angst, secrets, accidental love confessions, awkward idiots, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, cliches, minor use of [y/n], (female pronouns/descriptors used)

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sam grunted under his breath, continuing to powder the contents of your mortar with more force than necessary. “If Dean finds out about this-”

“Dean asked me to do this,” you defended, eyes skimming over the page in front of you before looking up at him. “Okay, maybe not verbatim, but he asked!” you added upon seeing the look on Sam’s face. 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m sure he did,” he replied sarcastically, slamming the pestle down with enough force to make you flinch. 

“Would you be fucking careful!” you hissed, glaring at him. “That thing isn’t indestructible and it’s important to me, it was a gift-” 

“From Dean,” he finished for you. “I know. Sorry,” he added, and even though his tone was sincere, you just knew he rolled his eyes anyway; and you chucked the closest thing you could grab at his back in retaliation. 

“Dick,” you muttered, going back to reading the passage before you. 

It wasn’t often that you used your powers - more so when it came down to a last resort option - and when Dean first discovered that you had magic, it wasn’t intentional. The two of you were on a hunt together, and it was - of course - not going to plan. You were on the brink of consciousness, having no choice but to watch defenselessly as Dean became outnumbered by Vamps. The spell came out of nowhere, nothing more than a primal instinct to protect him, and before anyone knew what was happening, the two of you were left alone with nothing but piles of ash where the monsters once stood. Dean first thought that Rowena had somehow stumbled upon them to save the day once more, though once he realized the spell came from you, he damn near lost his mind. You would have rather he yelled at you, smashed things around, anything compared to what he did. Once he made sure you were okay and had you checked out, he simply acted as if you didn’t exist; you were completely frozen out of his life. He never needed to say anything, you could see it in his eyes every time he glanced at you: How could you be a witch? He hated witches, and you knew that- it’s half the reason you never told him in the first place. He only started coming around with Sam’s convincing- and even then, it took an incredibly long time for him to trust you again. Then, one day, he came to realize that no matter what happened, he could never hate you. So, he came to you with an open mind and a peace offering- the exact mortar and pestle you had once told Sam that you wanted, because it reminded you of your mother’s- and the two of you worked on putting the pieces of your friendship back together. 

“Ass,” Sam retorted, turning and walking over to you with the freshly crushed ingredients. 

“You know,” you started, taking it from his hands. “You can’t really be against this all that much, otherwise you wouldn’t be here helping.”

“I’m only here so you don’t get yourself killed.”

“Oh, come on,” you urged with a chuckle. “You love doing this, and you know it.”

He gave you a sarcastic smile before taking the book from you. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Fine,” you huffed, snatching the book right back. 

With one final glare at each other, you started the spell. Everything was going well… until it wasn’t. 

You aren’t exactly sure where it went wrong. You don’t know if it was the ingredients, the way you said the spell, or just a mixture of everything, but before you even knew what was happening the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow and sent both you and Sam flying. 

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “What the fuck?” you wondered aloud, feeling strange beyond comprehension. 

“What the hell happened?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I don’t know. Something feels wrong,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized why you felt so different. “Sam?” you asked meekly.

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up. “Wait-” 

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; were they even your hands? 

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; your body? 

“You’re me!” you exclaimed, gesturing between the two of you. 

“You’re me!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, using the wall behind you to help you stand. “God, how do you live like this?”

“Me? What about you? I won’t even be able to reach the upper cabinets in the kitchen!” he countered, flailing his arms around. 

“At least you’ll be able to fit on your bed! My feet are gonna dangle!” you huffed, folding your arms over yourself. 

“You need to fix this,” Sam declared, stepping towards you. You couldn’t help but take a few steps away- this was way too weird. You’ve seen shifters take your image before, but this was actually you. Only it wasn’t you. You felt like your head was about to explode. 

“Gee, you think, Sam?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. “I thought we’d just stay like this forever!” 

He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door swinging open. You both flinched, turning to see Dean peering into the room. 

“What the fuck’s with all the yelling?” he asked, glancing around. “The hell is going on?” 

“I- uh-” you tried to answer, but nothing came to mind. 

“Just, uh…. experimenting,” Sam supplied, and you sent him a glare. 

“Experimenting?” Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows at you- or rather, at whom he thought was you. 

“Yeah,” Sam said with a shrug, not sure what else to say. The two of you shared a look, silently agreeing not to breathe a word of what was really going on. 

Dean’s face softened, and he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re actually doing that spell. Sweetheart, we can get by without it.” 

“We don’t-” you started to argue, before Sam interrupted you with a clearing of his throat. 

Right. Dean wasn’t exactly talking to you right now. 

“Thought it was a good opportunity to practice,” Sam replied, sounding more like he was asking than telling. 

“Right,” Dean said, eyeing your body wearily. 

Oh, god. He was gonna pick up on something being wrong, it was only a matter of time. 

“You can leave any time now,” you spoke up, more irritated than you meant to sound, but you were severely on edge.

Dean turned to you with a look of surprise. “‘Scuse me?”

“I just- you know, we’re in the middle of something,” you continued, doing your best to stand your ground. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” he quipped, taking a step towards you. “What the hell were you thinking? Why are you letting her mess around with this stuff? Better yet, why are you helping her mess around with this stuff?” 

“It’s just a simple spell,” you argued, your head swirling with the fact that you were looking down on him, instead of being dwarfed by his frame like you normally would be. 

“A simple spell?” he repeated, fury and irritation dancing in his eyes. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”  

“Last I checked we could make our own decisions, Dean!” you exclaimed, glaring at him. 

“Sure,” he placated with a nod. “So long as they’re not stupid ass decisions!” 

“Can we go ten minutes in this place without a fight happening?” Sam pitched in, already exasperated with the situation. 

“Yeah, sure,” Dean grumbled, glaring at you. “Food’s ready.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Sam announced, earning a glare from you in return. 

“Don’t you think we should finish-” you tried to ask, but were quickly cut off by Dean. 

“No, you guys are done in here,” he declared, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

“Dean-” you tried once more, only to be cut off again. 

“Sam,” Dean warned. “I’m not kidding. Whatever you two were doing, it’s done.”

“Fine. We’ll be out in a few minutes,” you relented, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “We need to clean up!” you added upon seeing the look on Dean’s face. 

“Five minutes,” Dean agreed pointedly. “Or I swear, I’ll drag both your asses out of this room.” 

“Yeah, five minutes, got it,” you huffed, watching him as he hesitantly left the room. 

You waited a few moments before hastily making your way over and all but slamming the door, turning to look at Sam with wide eyes. 

“We are so screwed,” he declared, matching your expression. 

“What are we supposed to do? He’s gonna figure out something’s wrong!” you exclaimed, slumping against the door behind you. 

“We just…. I don’t know, pretend?” Sam suggested with a shrug. 

“Pretend?” you repeated incredulously. “Sam, this is insane! We can’t just pretend to be each other!” 

“It’s not like I meant permanently!” he defended, holding out his hands in surrender. “But until we can find a way to fix this, we have to at least play the part in front of Dean.” 

“Fine,” you agreed with a huff. “But I am not going on your crack of dawn jogs.” 

“Oh, come on-” he started to argue, though quickly stopped when met with your glare. “Yeah, okay, that- that’s fine.” 

“Great. Now let’s go before Dean gets even more pissy,” you declared, opening the door with a flourish. 

With a quick nod, he followed you down the hall, the two of you lowly bickering about the situation all the way to the kitchen. 

“I feel like a baby giraffe with this fucking body.”

“You look like a baby giraffe, do you not know how to walk?” 

“Yeah, I know how to walk! I know how to walk with normal legs!”

“Normal? You’re short enough to get in anywhere with a child’s pass!” 

“Keep up with the attitude, Sam. Maybe I’ll go have a really nice salon visit and cut all this hair!” 

“Fine, then maybe I’ll call up that guy from your ‘worst date ever’ and ask to catch up!”

“Fine by me. You’ll be the one he’ll be groping and hitting on the whole time.” 

“Yeah- well-... look, just don’t cut my hair!” 

“What are you two all hush hush about?” Dean asked curiously, eyeing you both as you entered the kitchen. 

“Nothing,” you both quickly replied, taking a seat at the table. 

Dean stared at you both for a moment before nodding curtly. “If you say so.” 

Choosing not to reply, you both quietly watched as he joined the table, taking his regular seat next to you. Which, of course, meant he was currently next to Sam, and you watched in amusement as he shifted nervously while Dean got too close for his comfort. 

Attempting to stifle a laugh, you took a bite of the burger that was placed in front of you, only to grimace in response. “What is this?” you asked through a mouthful, meeting Dean’s confused gaze. 

“It’s… the same veggie burger you force me to make you every time I make burgers?” he replied, looking at you as though you lost your head. 

Fucking Sam, you thought bitterly. “Oh, right. Right, it just- it tastes different, I don’t know,” you stammered, sparing a quick glance across at Sam as you hurriedly took another bite. 

“You two are weirder than usual tonight,” Dean muttered to himself before eating his own food. 

The three of you ate in stifling silence, you and Sam both internally trying to find a way out of this mess, before Dean spoke up again and pulled you from your revere. 

“[Y/N], do you want just the usual from the store? I was gonna make a run before our movie night,” he said, turning to look beside him with a soft grin. 

You felt your stomach drop as Sam cleared his throat, looking between you and Dean for a moment. “Movie night?” 

“Yeah,” Dean said, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. “Like we have every Friday?” 

“Oh, right!” Sam exclaimed, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t realize what day it is, I, uh- I’m actually not… feeling too hot, do you mind if we skip it tonight?” 

“You wanna skip it?” Dean asked quietly, making your heart shatter as you watched the hurt and disappointment flash across his face.

After the two of you made up from your falling out, you started a tradition of spending extra quality time together at least once a week. This resulted in having a movie night every Friday, no matter what. Whether that meant catching a random movie on a motel tv or settling into the Dean Cave, you both always found a way to make it. Knowing you had no choice but to skip out this time almost made you want to tell him what happened right then and there; but you didn’t. 

“Yeah, I just… I think it’s best if I just head to bed, you know? I’d hate for it to get worse,” Sam said sheepishly, playing with the glass in front of him as he met Dean’s gaze halfheartedly. 

You were glad that if you had to mistakenly swap bodies with someone, it was Sam. Given that he became your best friend from just about the moment you met, he had your behaviour down pat; you just hoped you could do the same and make this all a little easier. 

“Well what do you mean, what’s wrong?” Dean asked worriedly.

“I’m just feeling run down is all,” Sam said, shrugging lightly as he stood up, taking his dishes to the sink. “Maybe we can watch something tomorrow,” he added, turning back to Dean with a shy smile. 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed softly, averting his gaze to the beer in his hands. “Don’t worry about it, just get some rest.” 

“Sure. Uh, goodnight, guys,” Sam replied awkwardly, shooting you a pointed look before leaving. 

You stayed in uncomfortable silence for a moment, studying Dean as he pouted at his bottle. 

“You alright?” you asked tentatively. 

“Yeah, just… first time she’s bailed on me,” he replied indifferently, downing the rest of his beer before heading to get another one. 

“She didn’t bail on you,” you argued firmly. “It’s not like she chose to go bar hopping or something, she’s sick.” 

“Didn’t seem so sick when she was huddled up with you,” Dean said curtly, leaning against the counter as he sent you a cold stare. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked confusedly, shifting in your seat to look at him better. 

He remained silent, lips pursed as he studied you for what felt like hours, before he finally shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Then why say it?” you asked in irritation. 

He remained silent once more, simply raising the beer bottle to his lips and taking a long sip before standing upright. “Night, Sammy.” 

“Dean-” you tried to press, but he only ignored you as he continued across the floor, leaving the kitchen without saying another word. 

You sighed in exasperation, quickly cleaning everything up before heading to your room, catching almost no sleep as you dove deep into researching for a reversal to your mistake.

“You need to shave,” Sam said, staring at you from across the table. 

“What?” you asked, caught off guard by the declaration. 

“Your beard - my beard. You need to shave it,” he clarified. “It’s been over a week.”

“And?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “I doubt you’re taking care of all my housekeeping.” 

“That’s because I’m doing everything possible to not look at you! Like you asked!” he hissed in return. 

You rolled your eyes in response, returning your attention to the book in front of you. “I have more important things on my mind than shaving your stupid facial hair - which looks fine, by the way.” 

Sam huffed, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, well you can at least take five minutes for me!”

“I don’t even know how to shave a beard, Sam!” you argued, closing the book in exasperation. 

“Then just let me shave it for you!” he begged, leaning over the table. “I’m serious, [Y/N], you can’t just leave me all unkempt.” 

You met his gaze and sighed softly. “Damn, you can even pull off the puppy dog eyes with my face. That’s a talent, Sammy.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh, for what felt like the first time since this whole thing happened. “You can do it better than I can,” he chuckled. “At least when it comes to Dean,” he added with a smirk. 

“What does that mean?” you asked curiously. 

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging dismissively. “C’mon, let’s get you- me- whatever, all taken care of before Dean gets back with dinner.” 

“Fine,” you begrudgingly agreed, getting up to follow him.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of him as he sat on the bathroom counter, because: “How else are we supposed to do this? These arms aren’t gonna reach that face comfortably without some help.”

You fell into a comfortable silence as he did what he needed to do, the only words spoken being his occasional nagging for you to quit moving, as you were both lost in your own thoughts about the last few days.

“I’m really sorry, Sammy,” you said suddenly. You weren’t sure whether your voice was so quiet due to the shame you felt, or for the fear of breaking the silence that surrounded you. 

“It’s not your fault,” he said simply, reflexively. 

You sighed, gently shaking your head; which earned another scolding glare from him as he steadied you. “It’s entirely my fault. I fucked up big time, and we both know it.” 

“Look, it was an accident,” he urged, wiping away the remnants of the shave one last time. “Assigning blame isn’t going to change anything.” 

“Why aren’t you mad at me? You should be furious! I practically ruined your life,” you pressed on frantically. 

“Okay, that’s being dramatic,” he chided. “Yeah, this isn't an ideal situation. Though weirdly, it’s also not the weirdest situation I’ve been in. And you know what? It’s not even the first time I’ve been in this situation! Remember when that kid switched bodies with me? Trust me, you’re a much better person to be switched with.” 

“Yeah, I remember,” you said, chuckling softly. “Still, I’m really sorry.” 

“I know you are,” he said softly. “I also know you’ll find a way to fix this.” 

“You really believe that?” you asked hesitantly. 

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “‘Cause it’s you, and I’ll always have faith in you. You didn’t mean for this to happen, [Y/N]. It’s okay.” 

“No, it-” you started to argue, but he cut you off. 

“Stop,” he urged softly. “I’m not mad at you, okay? Maybe I was at first, but I’m not anymore.” 

“Promise?” you asked meekly. 

“I promise,” he said firmly.

“Okay,” you relented, not fully believing him but not wanting to push the topic any further. 

“Okay,” he repeated, gently wiping away one of your stray tears. 

“Maybe we should just tell Dean,” you suggested hesitantly. 

“Tell me what?” Dean’s voice suddenly cut through the room.

The two of you jumped, and you moved away from the counter as calmly as you could, knowing how the predicament you were in must look to him.

You turned to the doorway and came face to face with Dean staring intently at the two of you, his mind working into an overdrive as he tried to make sense of the scene he just walked in on. 

“Dean, I- when did you get back?” you asked nervously. 

“Tell me what?” he asked again, ignoring your question. 

You and Sam were both at a loss. You spent so much time trying to figure this whole thing out, yet neither of you thought to come up with some kind of story should you be cornered like this. 

“[Y/N]?” Dean asked softly, looking over to where he thought you sat on the counter. 

The look of hurt and confusion that flashed over his face and the waver in his voice all but sent a fresh wave of tears washing over you. 

Dean waited impatiently a few moments before shaking his head with a scoff. “Whatever, food’s in the kitchen.”

Before anyone could say anything else, he turned on his heel and left, leaving you and Sam stunned in his wake. 

The dynamic between the three of you began shifting even more ever since that night, and you could feel Dean slipping further and further away from you with each passing day. 

You noticed it every time Dean would catch you and Sam huddled up and whispering low; when he would stand and stare before leaving with a quiet grumble of forgetting why he was there. 

You noticed it when he started spending more time in his room or tinkering with Baby in the garage; finding any and every excuse possible to spend time outside of the bunker and away from you and Sam. 

You and Sam tried to ignore it, promised yourselves that you’d explain everything once you managed to set things right - or, if you discovered you were over your heads and couldn’t fix everything. 

The thing you hated most about this whole thing was that it was becoming easier and easier to lie to Dean; and the worst part about that was not knowing whether you and Sam really became more convincing, or if Dean just didn’t care enough to question you anymore. 

Which is exactly why you found yourself sitting in the war room, waiting for Dean to make his way through to the kitchen, in order to try and talk things out. 

You weren’t expecting him to appear with one duffle bag over his shoulder and another by his side - and he wasn’t expecting to see you, either. 

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he declared after a moment of hesitation, continuing on his path to the stairs. 

“Where the hell are you going?” you asked hotly, standing from your seat. 

Dean sighed, throwing his head back in frustration as he considered his response. “Donna’s cabin.” 

“What? Why?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together with confusion. 

“I can’t do it anymore,” he said tiredly. “I just can’t, okay?” 

“Do what?” you asked wearily, taking a tentative step towards him. “What are you talking about, Dean?” you pressed, feeling your chest tighten with the rising nerves and fear.

“Don’t do that,” he demanded, shaking his head. “Don’t play coy. You think I don’t know what’s been going on around here?” 

“What-... what’s been going on?” you asked curiously. “The hell are you talking about?”

You weren’t sure if or when he figured out what happened, and you also weren’t sure why it would make him feel the need to leave. 

“I’m talking about you and [Y/N]!” he shouted, throwing his bags down and stepping towards you. 

“Me and [Y/N]?” you wondered, taking a nervous step backwards. 

“I’m not an idiot, okay?” he spat, his jaw ticking. “You think I haven’t noticed? Think I couldn’t figure it out?” 

“Okay, look,” you began, holding out your hands defensively. “I can explain.” 

Dean let out a humourless laugh, running a hand over his mouth before glaring at you once more. “Explain,” he echoed with a chuckle of disbelief. “Don’t waste your breath.”

“Why are you so pissed off about this?” you asked in bewilderment. “I mean, I know we kept it from you, but we figure it’d be easier for you.” 

“Easier for me?” he repeated, voice raising. “What about this entire situation makes you think it’d be easy for me?”

“Well because it-... I mean it doesn’t really affect you, Dean,” you replied, unsure of your own words. 

“It doesn’t affect me?” he repeated with perplexion. “Of course it affects me! You know how I feel about her!” he exclaimed, taking yet another step forward. 

“What?” you questioned, thrown off by his response. 

“Don’t “what” me,” he snapped. “I want to be happy for you, Sammy. I really do, but I just-... I don’t think I ever can be.” 

“Okay, I-... I am so lost,” you admitted.

“You stole my girl, Sam!” Dean all but screamed. “You know that I love her. You know I was gonna tell her, and you know how much I want to spend whatever’s left of my god forsaken life with her! You swore you didn’t feel that way about her. You- I mean how to hell could you do this to me, Sammy? I can’t even stand to look at you anymore.” 

You remained silent, staring at him in shock and confusion for what felt like hours. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to formulate a response, but all that came out was a broken whisper of his name. 

“Don’t sweat it, Sammy. Not like I can blame you for falling for her, right? I mean hey, I sure did,” he sassed, smiling sarcastically. “Not surprised she chose you, either. She deserves someone better than me. But I’m not sticking around anymore to see it first hand.” 

You watched in stunned silence as he turned to gather his bags, trying and failing to think of anything to say. What the hell were you supposed to do? The man of your dreams just admitted he felt the exact same way, and you were trapped in his brother's body. Even if you told him the truth right now, would he even believe you? 

“Do me one favour, though,” Dean said from the foot of the stairs, effectively pulling you from your thoughts. “Don’t tell [Y/N]. Don’t tell her anything. I’ll think of something to tell her during the drive and call her tomorrow.” 

“Dean-” you finally began to protest, only to go unheard by him as he started up the steps. 

“Later, Sammy,” he announced with finality, disappearing out of the bunker. 

“You have got to be kidding me. I mean honestly woman, how stupid can you be?” Rowena’s voice rang through the war room as she made her arrival known to you and Sam.

“Did you not get in enough insults over the phone?” you asked in exasperation, not bothering to move from your spot in the library as you watched her approach.  

“I don’t think there are enough insults for this situation, dear,” she said sweetly, smiling innocently. 

“Either be helpful or leave, Rowena,” you replied solemnly. 

It had been three days since Dean left, and over two weeks since the whole debacle happened. You had never been more determined to find a solution, nor had you ever felt more defeated. 

“Alright, fine. No need to be cranky,” Rowena tsked, taking a seat across from you. “Go on, then. Walk me through everything.” 

“Fine,” you sighed, steadying yourself before recounting the situation. 

“Let me get this straight,” Rowena declared, holding a hand up. “You actually let him leave? After what he said?” 

“Is that seriously your only take away from this?” you asked angrily, glaring at her. 

“It’s not my only take away, but it’s certainly a big one,” she said calmly, accompanied by a half shrug. “This is the spell you used?” she asked, looking over the book you gave her during your explanation. 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” you confirmed sheepishly. 

“Well, don’t you worry. We’ll have you and Samuel right as rain in no time, dear,” she comforted, eyes never leaving the pages in front of her.

It took another four days, but ‘No time’ finally came. You were practically itching to get this all over and done with as the three of you finished setting everything up. You didn’t even care about being in your own skin again, all you cared about at this point was getting Dean back in your life. He did everything possible to avoid talking to you or Sam each time either of you tried contacting him, and you were missing him more and more with each passing hour.

“That should do it,” Rowena declared, snapping you back to attention. “You know what you need to do?” 

“Yes,” you said quickly, urging her out of the room; the last thing you needed was for her to be around and have the spell go wrong again, resulting in all three of you being scrambled around. 

“Don’t rush it!” she cautioned. “I know you want him back, but you need to take this slowly. You can’t afford another screw up!” 

Her statement made you pause, and you knew she was right. “Go slow, I got it,” you confirmed, shutting her out of the room. 

“Ready?” Sam asked, looking at you eagerly; albeit nervous beyond belief. 

“More than ever,” you declared, taking your place at the altar. 

You began the spell, doing everything slowly and precisely so there was no room for error. Once you had finished, however, nothing had happened. You were just about ready to scream with all the emotions boiling inside of you when suddenly the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow, sending both you and Sam flying. 

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “This again?” you wondered aloud.

“Did it even work?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I think so,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized what happened. “Sam?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up himself. “Wait-” 

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; your own hands.

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; his very own body.

“You’re you!” you exclaimed in glee, pointing at him.

“You’re you!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, taking a moment to steady yourself on your own feet. “I need to go,” you announced, not giving him time to reply before you ran out of the room. 

“You’re welcome!” Rowena called after you, watching you run by. 

“Thank you!” you called back absently, hurrying out to your car. 

The drive took longer than ever before; at least, it felt like it did. You spent the whole time trying to think of what to say, of how to explain, but nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed like enough. All you could hope for was that everything would magically come to you once you stood before him. 

If he ever decided to open the goddamn door. 

“Dammit, Dean! Open the fucking door before I break it down!” you yelled, banging your hand against the wood for the upteenth time. 

You opened your mouth to yell once more, but before you could even make a sound a voice boomed out from behind you. “What are you doing here?” 

You turned with a start, coming face to face with Dean as he stood at the bottom of the steps. “I came to talk to you,” you said simply, taking a few steps forward. 

He quickly averted his gaze, focusing on wiping the grease from his hands with the rag he held. “Coulda just called,” he countered gruffly. 

“Why?” you asked, laughing dryly. “You’d just ignore my calls.” 

He stilled his ministrations for a moment before shrugging, glancing back up at you. “Maybe ‘cause we got nothing to talk about.” 

“Dean-” you tried to argue, though you stopped short when he rolled his eyes and turned away from you. 

“Look, I know all about you and Sam, okay?” he huffed, storming across the drive and to where Baby was parked, hood still open for Dean to continue working on her.  

“Oh, for god’s sake, Dean. There is no me and Sam!” you exclaimed with a groan, quickly following behind him. 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he placated, picking up his previously abandoned ratchet. 

“Just listen to me,” you pleaded, watching his face scrunch with a mix of frustration and concentration as he dove back into his work. 

“You don’t need to explain,” he said distractedly. “I get it. He’s good for you. I just-... you didn’t need to hide it, [Y/N/N]. I thought we were closer than that.” 

“We are! That’s not what we were hiding, just let me explain!” you said desperately, stepping closer to him. 

“You can quit the act, okay?” he snapped, stopping what he was doing as he stood up, finally turning to look at you. “I have eyes, I saw what-” 

“Sam and I fucking switched bodies!” you yelled over him, effectively rendering him speechless. “Alright? When you walked in on us doing that spell the other week… it went wrong, Dean. Sam and I, we just-... we switched!”

“You… switched bodies?” he asked slowly, scepticism starting to present itself on his face as he processed what you said.

“Yes,” you confirmed softly. ”I was Sam, Sam was me.”

He nodded, shifting uncomfortably as he anxiously tapped his fingers on Baby’s exterior. “Well, isn’t that just a great story,” he muttered, leaning under the hood once more. 

“It’s not a story,” you argued desperately. “It’s what happened.” 

“Then why not tell me?” he challenged, not missing a beat. 

“Because,” you began lamely. “You always have so much on your plate, Dean. We didn’t want to shove this stupid thing on you and add to your worries.” 

“So you lied to me for my own good?” he asked harshly, gaze not straying from his hands as he worked. 

“We didn’t lie, we just-”

“Avoided the truth,” he finished for you. “Same thing, if you ask me.”

“We thought it was for the best,” you admitted quietly. 

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed sarcastically, throwing his tools down. “Sneaking around, icing me out. Definitely for my best interest, huh?” 

“Dean, please,” you pleaded. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.” 

“Then why did you come, [Y/N]?” he shouted, shutting Baby’s hood. “What did you think was gonna happen here?” 

“Well, I thought-... I just-... I wanted to clear the air,” you stammered. “I wanted to explain.” 

“Well, you explained,” he muttered, busying himself with tidying his mess. 

You watched him silently for a few moments, trying to think of your next move. You decided to ask the question that’s been on your mind since he left: “Were you really planning on actually telling me one day?” 

He let out an irritated sigh, picking up his belongings and moving around to the trunk. “What are you talking about?” 

“Were you really gonna tell me?” you repeated, quickly taking a few steps to meet him at the trunk.  

“Tell you what?” he huffed, irritation oozing off of him as he slammed the toolbox down. 

“How you feel!” you blurted out, taking yet another step towards him. 

“The hell are you talking about?” he questioned, feigning cluelessness. Though the way his body stiffened as he idly messed with the stuff in the trunk betrayed him; he knew what you meant.  

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you replied softly. “Were you?” 

“I don’t know!” he huffed, shutting the trunk. “Maybe,” he added, walking away from you once more. 

“You said-” 

“I know what I said!” he interrupted, clearly irritated. “Can we not relive it? I don’t want to talk about this.” 

“Well I do!” you argued, exasperated. “Why the fuck else do you think I’m here, Dean?”

“To clear the air,” he sneered, repeating your earlier words as he made his way back to the cabin. 

“To tell you I love you!” you shouted after him, stopping him in his tracks. “I didn’t choose Sam. How can I choose him when I’ve loved you for years? How can I choose him when my entire world stopped spinning the day you shut me out of your life all those years ago? How can I choose him when I didn’t feel like I could breathe until you finally spoke to me again? How can I choose him, when having to watch you walk away the other day was the most terrifying thing I had to do, because I didn’t know if I’d ever get you back this time? You can put us in any timeline, in any universe, or in any realm, and I will always choose you. I love you.”

You were met with silence for entirely too long, and you watched the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders as he kept his back to you, standing tense as ever with his head down low. 

“Will you just look at me, please?” you pleaded shakily.

As soon as the words left your mouth he spun on his heel and marched towards you, closing the distance between you two in seconds. He grabbed your face in his hands, letting a moment of hesitation pass by before crashing his lips against yours. It was harsh yet delicate, slow but needy. It was gentle and all consuming. His hands strayed from your face, one sweeping to the back of your head to hold you steady while the other slipped to your waist and pulled you close. Your hands found themselves gliding up his arms, resting on the base of his neck for a moment before settling on his cheeks. 

When the two of you finally pulled away to catch your breath, it seemed like neither of you wanted to go too far; foreheads pressed together and noses brushing as you both giggled quietly, shy smiles on your swollen lips. 

You stood like that for a few minutes, basking in each other's presence in ways you never could before, until your gentle whisper cut through the silence: “Please come home, Dean.” 

“My sweet girl,” he said quietly, planting a delicate kiss to your forehead before completely wrapping you up in his arms, holding you closer than ever. “I am home.”

tagging: @winharry

dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika

[tourturestarradio]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀

“𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞! 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Prompt: Deadpool x kind reader x Wolverine 

Warnings: sexual jokes, jealous Logan, jealous Wade, suggestive

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

You woke up to a knock at your door slowly getting up you peeked out your peep hole seeing Wade also looking through your peep hole. 

Opening the door Wade greeted you hugging you tightly “honey bun! My favorite sweetheart! My amazing baker! Love of my-“ you blinked in confusion “um Wade” you called out, he looked down at you “yes?” “Could you not shout please” Wade nodded “right I forgot it is pretty early” 

You walked over to your couch plopping down as Wade went to your kitchen “hey Honey bun!” He called out, “yes?” You hummed clicking on your tv “do you think you could help me with something!” He walked back into the living room “yeah…yeah sure” you yawned, Wade sat down beside you wrapping his arms around your torso pulling you into his lap.

“So…you’re a baker right?” You glanced at him a chuckle leaving your mouth “yes I am” he nodded playing with one of your hands as your other one flicked through different channels. 

“So I was scrolling on the internet trying to blow one off when I saw this great absolutely beautiful cake idea….and I was wondering if you could make it for me?” You nodded “sure what is it?” You asked looking at him “cinnamon roll cookies.” You stared at him trying to make sure you heard him correctly “what?” He shook your shoulders “please Honey bun! It’s would be great!” You grabbed his wrists “alright…” 

Getting up you looked down at him “when do you need it?” He grew excited “yay! Okay, um by tomorrow ” “Wade!” You whined, he grabbed your shoulders “first, don’t whine my name like that it’ll turn me on, second pleaseeeee! It’ll be great!” He rested his chin on the top of your head poking where your nipples would be “I miss your eating your desert….that could mean two things” You grew flustered swatting away his hand. 

“F…Fine but I’ll need to go to the store first” you hummed, Wade gave you a cheesy smile “thanks honey bun bye now!” He hurried out of your apartment as You sighed.

Waving bye to him you yawned “Alright bye Wade, if you want you can help out and tell Logan I said hi!” He shut the door leaving you alone, you started to get dressed for the day. 

Leaving your apartment you went off to the store. 

Your eyes scanned the shelves trying to find the right ingredients you only need two more things why were they so hard to find?! You felt a light tap on your shoulder turning around you spotted a taller male with black hair he was kinda handsome “am I in your way? I’m sorry” the male shook his head “no but were you muttering about brown sugar?” He asked. 

You gulped embarrassed that you were muttering to yourself in public “oh um yeah I can’t find that or cinnamon for some reason?” You frowned, the male looked in his basket “if you want you can take mines” he offered a friendly smile on his face. 

You shook your head “no, no it’s alright” he handed the brown sugar to you “no it’s fine you can take it” he stated you grabbed the bag “you sure?” He chuckled and nodded “yeah I’m sure you probably need it more than me” he reassured, a smile graced your face “thanks you’re a real life saver” He waved you off “oh stop just trying to help, I’m Jackie by the way” you placed the sugar in the cart “I’m Y/n” you replied.

You both made friendly conversation a few laughs being shared between you too “so what are you making these for?” He asked, you placed the cinnamon in your cart “making cinnamon roll cookies for a friend he has a sweet tooth” the male seemed to make a face at the word ‘he’ leaving your mouth.

But he ignored that and nodded “sounds delicious, reminds me of the cinnamon rolls I had at this cafe a while ago” he stated, you glanced at him “oh what cafe” he thought for a moment “(cafe name) they have really good desserts” you perked up at the mention of your cafe “that’s my Cafe!” He laughed “you’re lying” you shook your head “nope just opened it a month ago glad you like my stuff” you smiled nudging him with your elbow. 

He blushed lightly, you bought your things “hey um you need help carrying that?” He asked you nodded “yes that would be nice thanks” he carried your bags luckily the apartment wasn’t far from the store. 

He helped you bring your things up to your apartment “alright thanks Jackie hope to meet you again” you stated placing your things inside “wait um Y/n…” you looked back at him “would you wanna grab a drink later maybe around 9 maybe 9:30?” He asked.

You blinked “oh I don’t know I gotta start working on these-“ “please it’ll be great I promise” he hummed, you thought for a moment “alright that’s if I can get these finished before then” he nodded a smile growing on his face “wanna trade numbers?” You nodded pulled out your phone.

“Okay bye Jackie” you gave him a side hug shutting your door, he walked away a grin plastered on his face. You sighed “okay let’s get started.” 

You wiped the sweat from your forehead as you carefully wrapped the cookies checking the time you saw it was close to 9 o’clock. “Oh no” quickly you pulled off your clothes to go freshen up. 

You slid on your party dress it was a dark red and backless, you hadn’t worn it in a while so it was a little smaller the end of the dress just making right below your ass.

You put on some jewelry and styled your hair, sliding on your kitten heels you grabbed the tray of cookies and your purse. Going over to Wades apartment you knocked lightly on the door, it opened revealing an annoyed looking Logan.

His eyes went wide seeing you “Y/n uh what…what are you-“ “hi Logan! can you give these to Wade I gotta go” you hummed texting Jackie Logan stared at you.

You were already hot enough seeing you in that outfit really made him feel a little hot “where are you headed?” He asked, what did you need to be this dressed up for you were already sexy as is?

You glanced up from your phone “hm? Oh I’m going on a date” Logan felt a harsh jab in his chest “…a…date?” He questioned, you nodded “yes so can you give these to Wade please-“ “peanut who are you talking with- oh my ragging boner, Honey bun?!” Wade shoved Logan aside “you got all dressed up just for me” he placed his hand on his heart “that’s so cute but that’s gonna be off in a matter of seconds” he said taking the tray of cookies.

You shook your head “oh no um I’m going on a date” you explained, Wade froze “I’m sorry what?” He looked confused “I’m going on a date but tell me how the cookies taste bye see you in a bit.”

Wade stopped you “wait, wait, wait, you’re going on a date?” You nodded your head slowly “yep so I have to go-“ Wade frowned “but we were supposed to hang out…” he sounded so heartbroken, felt that way to. 

You sighed “I’ll be back in a bit we’re just getting drinks” you explained, Wade waved you off “no, no go be with your Prince Charming that’s more important than me, than us!” He pouts grabbing Logan’s arms who quickly swatted away his hand. 

You frowned “it’s not like that Wade” You looked at Logan for help but he also looked hurt, Wade flopped down on the couch like a deflated balloon Huffing you walked in “fine. I’ll stay.” 

Wade shot up hugging you “great! I knew you wouldn’t leave us for that incel loser!” You rolled your eyes “I feel bad for just bailing on him, he was pretty sweet” Logan rested his hands on your hips coming up behind you “trust me sweetheart I can treat you much better than him” Wade corrected “we can” You gulped feeling the heated tension rise.

You tilted your head “really?” Wade’s eyes were trained on your lips “really.” Logan’s hands traveled up and down your sides “then show me?” You hummed Wade smirked “challenge excepted.” He hummed.

Jackie called your number again but still it went straight to voicemail “fucking bitch…pick up the phone.” Just as he requested you answered only it was you it was a males voice “sorry Y/n can’t come to the phone right now she’s a little occupied at the moment but leave a message!” Jackie opened his mouth to speak when he heard moans in the background of the call.

“Ha…Harder Logan! Please, pl…please! Fill me up” Right before he hung up he heard the other voice speak “hey save some for me! Sorry Jackie’s but she’s taken already- Beep!” The phone shut off leaving Jackie stunned.

He threw his phone “fucking two timing whore!” 

Logan glanced over “was that him?” Wade laughed “yep” Logan petted your hair “could have let her answer” he joked, Wade shook his head “hey you know it’s rude to talk with your mouth full!” 

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: IM OBSESSED WITH X MEN AND DEADPOOL RN RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGHHHH 

[thecherrygod]

Do you ever wake up from a dream and you know you're gonna have a day™

i feel like ive had a similar dream to this one a few times ago but also i feel like i have deja vus in dreams sometimes so im unsure. either deja vus or a moment of lucid dreaming that doesnt last enough, but i also tend to have recurring dreams so who knows, also if i think i know why something is happening in the dream i will put my opinion lmao anyways.

so. i was waiting for a bus, apparently the 125 (which is a mix of the two buses i usually took from my house, before we moved, to go to a few places) with the first friend i made in elementary school, who happens to be in three dreams ive had this month, also there were my first crush and some other guy. in theory we were going each to our houses, but instead i got on an appartment

in theory from what i think is another dream, i could just go to this woman for therapy whenever i felt it necessary, like just walk in and thats it. also if i couldnt pay her in money i could pay her in yogurt for some reason. so im just there, going as if i own the place, walking stairs in a white beige sterile looking building, and then entering the office, with a voice in the back of my head going 'you should have knocked' but i was already halfway through the door (ive been going through it kinda and thinking i should get therapy so i believe thatswhy i dream of going to therapy dhsdghdsgd)

at that moment im not me anymore, im some blonde woman with long hair, theres noise in there, the therapist talking to someone, and sounds like a baby. apparently she had a child not that long ago and it was there but in another room in the office thing. and so the blonde kind of. sits on the floor. lays there, talking to the therapist and apparently she therapist was gonna 'check their fortune' or future or something, in my brain what made sense is that the blonde was pregnant and the therapist was gonna tell her about her future child. also there was a tv in the room and it had a movie or something that was starring the blonde. apparently the movie was called something similar to 'degberaux' or something. im sure it ended in beraux but it started with a b and had a g in there too but... its unclear.

after that im me again and im in some sort of classroom thats empty except for someone who we used to be friends and it ended up badly and while its bc both of us i do feel very guilty about it. i sorta try to both ignore and aknoweledge her, first i sit on the complete opposite side of her, we have a hesitant small talk, in which i sit closer to her but from an angle i cant really see her face, and we talk a bit more but nothing else. more people start filling the room, a girl that went to school with me that i promised i was gonna invite her to my house to play videogames but i never did good on that promise (more guilt it seems lmao) and i talk more with her. i notice shes drawing some sort of comic with neat line art and i ask her about it, if its her own story and stuff. she says yes, shows me the pages which are mostly trees and plants and a single panel with a guy, and while im looking she says that shes been doing them like this bc her computer broke down and couldnt work on it digitally and was worried she forgot completely how that worked (something that literally happened to me last year so i know where that comes from)

then i am just. back at the therapists office, this time im me again, but now completely distraught, very stressed and at the verge of tears partially just bc paying therapy in yogurt is making me feel that even if that was the therapists idea. theres a kitchen table in the office, it has like.. holes in it but under the wholes its like theres sand under the table so you can still let things on the table with no risk of them actually falling to the floor. so i am attempting to pay my therapy session. with yogurt. its a 6 pack of creamy vanilla yogurt specifically from a brand from here which is common but relatively good quality, and i look at it from the outside, the. bowl or whatever now kinda transparent. and i begin panicking more, its barely there inside, and it looks brownish, kinda rotten, as if it was consuming itself, and i begin opening them and my therapist doesnt complain about that shes just kinda confused but like 'ah its fine ill eat them all together' and im like 'no. you wont. look at them. its. bad' so she looks over my shoulder and goes '... oh. the yogurt died' (i think this is because ive been spiralling the last few days bc of mayo for a few reasons tbh)

so yeah. the yogurt died. i was paying therapy in yogurt and the yogurt. died. so i just broke down. i started properly crying. at first she didnt know if she should aproach me but i guess she felt bad and did give me a hug which also sorta helped me calm down but i was also calming down bc irl i dont cry more than like 5 tears except i reach a specific point of breakdown also about the hug. i believe it to be unproffesional afaik but in the dream it was sort of comforting and also i think that whenever i get hugged in dreams i just do cry a lot which. man i think thats its own situation lmao) after that my phone was a bit stuck on one of the holes in the table and shes laughing a bit like 'im not so sure how youre gonna take it off there haha.. good luck' and i just put my hand in there and take it out almost like a puzzle piece with just a bit of force but nothing too difficult.

after that im now in a dining table surrounded by guys that have been classmates at different points in my life. just sorta talking. at this point is where i know that i have therapy whenever i want it/need it bc one of the guys that went to highschool with me (and got himself into an alcohol indused coma during out graduation party) had killed multiple people and im not sure if dream me had actually seen it happening with my own eyes or not but i got the image of blood splatters there as a memory so maybe)

after that we are leaving. its night, everything is dark, also the atmosphere is tense and a bit.. scary? maybe just bc its night. i am leaving with a girl. idk who, its almost like she could have been any of the three friends that i had seen before, or maybe all of them in one, im not really sure. and i think 'fuck i didnt say goodbye to my therapist properly' and i get a bit anxious but also full of guilt so i ask the girl to wait for me, ill go do that real quick.

i find my therapist, shes just there in a room that feels like a greenhouse mixed with an attic, kinda dark but since its made of glass you can see bc of outside lights. i get close like 'ma'am i am so sorry i didnt properly say goodbye to you and i also wanted to thank you' but she seems distant, cold, and maybe a bit angry. i still go back in for a hug and i am in fact tearing up again. she pats me in the back like when someone just gives you the quickest hug so it doesnt last a lot but you still know its sorta okay even tho maybe not fully okay. after that she breaks the hug and says 'if you are acting like this it means i am doing a good job' and she just. leaves. i try to follow her bc well im unwell i dont think i should be alone and it felt like she was abandoning me

so i get close to her, she looks at me how youd look at an animal, a pet, thats just following you everywhere, but also a bit.. disappointed at my behavior? and then when im about to fully reach her i woke up

[julietsf1]

Chef's Kiss... but Maybe Not the Cooking - Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: Franco might not be the best chef, but that doesn't ruin the night (1.2k words)

Warnings: None :) wholesome vibes

AN: reminder to check your smoke alarm batteries!! kisses <3

__________________

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” I called out, eyeing Franco with a mix of amusement and mild concern as he confidently moved around the small kitchen. His apron—bright red and definitely way too small—barely covered his front, leaving the rest of him looking like he’d outgrown it by several sizes.

Franco turned to me with a grin that oozed confidence, waving me off like he had it all under control. “Help? Please, I’ve got this. You’re in for the best dinner of your life, mi amor.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. His green eyes were sparkling with energy, despite the ridiculous apron that was comically snug around his waist. His fluffy brown hair, still slightly damp from his shower, bounced with every exaggerated movement he made as he whisked something in a bowl.

“I’m serious!” he continued, pointing the wooden spoon in my direction, like he was daring me to doubt him. “This pasta is going to blow your mind. My abuela used to make it for us, and I swear, the whole family would fight over it.”

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him in full-on ‘Franco Chef Mode,’ which mostly consisted of him yapping enthusiastically and throwing ingredients into the pan with dramatic flair. “Sounds amazing,” I teased. “You sure your abuela didn’t mention anything about using a bigger apron?”

He glanced down at his too-small apron and smirked. “I think it looks great,” he quipped with a wink, “Makes me look extra muscular.” With that, he turned back to the stove, tossing onions into the pan like a pro. Well, a very confident, slightly chaotic pro.

“So, where was I?” Franco rambled on, stirring the onions with a flourish. “Ah, sí. My abuela always had a secret ingredient for this dish—made it the best in all of Argentina.”

“Let me guess,” I said, already knowing what was coming. “Love?”

“Exactly!” He spun around, pointing the spoon at me again like he’d just revealed the greatest culinary secret of all time. “You’re catching on. It’s the love that makes it special.”

I chuckled, shaking my head as I watched him. He was talking a mile a minute, bouncing between stories about his family and random facts about the pasta, his enthusiasm filling every corner of the kitchen.

“Oh! And one time I tried making this while camping with my cousins,” he continued, stirring the pan with far too much confidence. “We had no pans, no stove, nothing! So we made this big firepit ourselves, and I swear, we nearly set the tent on fire. But the pasta? Still amazing. Not to brag, but it was probably the best meal ever made on a camping trip.”

I laughed, unable to help myself. “Really? Best camping meal ever, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a nod, his voice filled with pride. “I think my cousins still talk about it to this day. Of course, they might have been a bit crazy from hunger after the hike and the whole nearly-burning-the-tent-down incident, but I’m pretty sure it was my cooking skills.”

“Uh-huh,” I teased, my eyes flicking to the stove, noticing the onions beginning to smoke. “Are you sure we’re not about to have a repeat of the tent fire here?”

Franco waved me off without even looking. “No way, mi amor. I’ve got this under control. Trust me, once I add the garlic and—wait, did I add the garlic yet? No, no, we’re good. Anyway, as I was saying, the key to any great dish is improvisation. You have to feel the ingredients, let them tell you what they need. You can’t follow a recipe too strictly, you know?”

“Uh-huh…” I tried to hide my smile, but the smell of something burning was unmistakable now.

“So, this one time in Argentina—”

“Franco!” I finally cut in, pointing toward the stove. “The onions!”

His eyes widened in shock. “Mierda!” He lunged for the stove, but it was too late. The onions were charred beyond recognition. With a dramatic sigh, he grabbed the pan, lifting it up to inspect the damage. “Okay, so maybe... I overestimated the heat a bit.”

I laughed, covering my mouth with my hand. “A bit?”

Franco turned to me with a sheepish grin, still holding the smoking pan. “Hey, it’s all part of the process, right? Even the greatest chefs burn something every now and then.” He set the pan down with a shrug. “You know, I think this is fate telling us we should be eating takeout instead.”

“Oh, is that what it’s telling us?” I teased, stepping closer to peer into the burnt remains of his ‘famous’ recipe. “Your abuela’s going to be so proud.”

Franco groaned dramatically, setting the pan down with a defeated sigh. “Okay, so maybe my abuela wouldn’t be proud of this particular attempt.” He looked at me with that same sheepish grin, charming as ever despite the burnt onions. “But next time, I’ll definitely get it right.”

I raised an eyebrow, giving the mess on the stove a pointed glance. “Next time? Are you sure you’re up for it?”

He chuckled, pulling me closer by the waist, his hands warm against my skin. “I’m always up for a challenge, mi amor. Besides, I make up for it in other ways.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine in a soft, teasing kiss that left me smiling.

“Is that so?” I teased, tugging playfully on the string of his too-small apron. “Because right now, all I see is a confident chef... with no dinner.”

Franco smirked, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. “Good thing I’m great at improvising, then. How about this: I’ll make it up to you with pizza—takeout, of course. No burnt onions, I promise.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re really going for the easy option, huh?”

“Hey,” he said, leaning back to look at me, his grin widening. “Sometimes the best plan is knowing when to call it quits.” He pulled out his phone, already scrolling through the takeout options. “So, what’ll it be? Pizza? Sushi? Anything you want, I’ve got you covered.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I rested my head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. “Pizza sounds perfect.”

He laughed, wrapping his arm around me and kissing the top of my head. “Deal. But I’ll still win you over with my cooking skills one day. You’ll see.”

“Mm, we’ll see about that,” I teased, grinning as I pulled him in for another kiss—this one deeper, slower. His hand slid up my back, pulling me closer until there was no space between us, the warmth of his touch sending a flutter through my chest.

When we finally pulled apart, I smiled up at him, pretending to be unimpressed. “Okay, so maybe you’re better at this than cooking.”

Franco smirked, his confidence back in full force. “See? I told you I’m quite talented at some things.”

We settled onto the couch, Franco’s arm wrapped around me as he ordered the food. I snuggled into him, enjoying the warmth of his body against mine.

“You know,” I said after a moment, glancing up at him, “I think I’m kind of glad you burned the onions.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Glad? Really?”

I grinned, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Yeah. Because honestly? I much prefer cuddling up with you here on the couch.”

Franco laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he kissed the top of my head. “Well, in that case, I might have to burn dinner more often.”

[auragasmics]

1:32 AM: A LOVE LETTER TO THE PRETTIEST GIRL!

spellbook intro! when Nanami takes a moment to study his wife after a date night, his heart pours out a soliloquy for the ages!

potion ingredients! 4.4k+, pwp(?), wife!reader x husband!nanami kento, fluff+ smut, fingering, clitslapping(1), cunnilingus, explict talk, mating press, grinding, allusions to sex (penetration), self-indulgent to the max ♥︎

note to casters! yeah, this is so indulgent. and i'm sorry i have to say this...p**** is pink :). grab a mirror and check for yourself.

Champagne. 

A drink known to be indulged during the most influential times of human history. It’s a famed tag that runs through nations upon nations, beloved by the heaven blend of Pinot, Meunier, and Chardonnay. It pulls the tongue into an envious ménage-à-trois between the rich taste and the cheeky spry bubbles seething one’s cheeks into a world of heat —all doomed to end once a swallow washes away all the bliss. 

From its days of ruling beside monarchy to its dwindled expression in the modern world, it has yet to lose its class. It still rules amongst those with exquisite, those who can handle the feverish rush of having rapture ruin all composure.  

It’s suitable for a man like Nanami to indulge in such refinement too, just a single sip from the tall slender glass seated beside his plate transports his mind into a place where the weight of a jewel-encrusted crown sits upon his head. And in this universe, he rules over a 64 square meter condo, a beloved lord sleeping in his king-sized bed, and a lawful husband to his queen. 

Another sip reminds him of the gracious air surrounding the night—a date night catered by a meal of shared efforts and a bottle of Nanami’s favorite champagne. It’s sweet like forbidden fruit, the heavenly delight soothing his woes. 

His gentle stare falls onto you, the infamous cinnamon fawning over how red complements your skin in that dress, over your delicate pout—no, obsessing over how your lips nurse the rim of the glass as if it were a kiss. As to how the heavens gifted a man such as he with one of their own angels, it’s a blessing he’s taken without a second thought. 

However, it’s a feeling that even after three years of marriage has yet to subdue. The riveting swell that throws his heart into turmoil whenever you giggle. The wash of goosebumps set to claim his skin when your hand simply grazes against his own. The trance your gentle coos lure him into, just like now.

“Kennnn, Baby? Are you okay?”

Flurries of mindless blinks brings Nanami back into the present, where he’s met with your own stare. Where silence settles comes the bustle of apologies and giggles, Nanami “Hm?—Oh! I’m fine, Honey. I’m so sorry—missed what you said there, can you repeat it?”

“Oh, it’s fine! I was asking what should we do about the dishes? All that cooking and I always seem to forget about cleaning.”

Nanami merely shrugs his shoulder, “I’ll wash them.”

“But aren’t you tired? We could just leave them to soak—”

The rambles of solutions come to a slamming shut as Nanami reaches over to your side of the square dining table, his fingers seamlessly knitting within your own.

“That was a really good steak. The garlic butter we made last weekend was a perfect touch. Oh, and the mashed potatoes, you always outdo yourself, Honey. All I did was peel the potatoes and help sear the steak, the least I can do is clean…right?”

A helpless sigh passes through your glossed lips, “You’re not getting me to agree, y’know. I still say we just go get ready for bed.”

Nanami calls his hand, his energy, even his presence over the table back to his side in trade for the back of his chair for asylum. He gives you a steady stare that pairs all too well with a grin and a pat on his lap. “Come here.”

There’s safety in being wrapped up in Nanami’s arms as you settle in his care, his muscle-ribbed arms thick arms lacing around your waist, his large hands draping off your hip, all while he keeps one leg bouncing to a steady rhythm. 

“Why do you worry your pretty little head off about the fine details, huh? That’s my job.” 

“I know, but…”

Weakness grows in your heart as you look down into his eyes—those tired eyes casted by an ardent glow. Exhaustion still can’t taint his heart, it can’t begin to ruin the tender nature he abides to you. You can’t help but soothe him, your hand racing to cup his cheek, the pad of your thumb skating along the curves of his bottom lip. 

“But you work so hard, Kento. You should come to bed with me, just leave all this for tomorrow.”

But you know him—he can’t leave any job with loose ends. Whether it’s at the office, small repairs around the house, or simply washing dishes, Nanami finds a sense of ease in the natural order of tasks from start to finish. And when some principle challenged his own, he had every reason set and ready to roll for an explanation.

Except for tonight.

Tonight, silence serves as Nanami’s winded explanation—and the kind pecks he pushes back against your touch. 

“Ken?”

“Mhm?”

“Aren’t you going to…say something…or anything?”

Patience gets the better of you as Nanami simply keeps himself entertained with your thumb. His kisses melt into you skin, his soft hums strike every fiber, and each pinch of his lips leaves you dangling at the end of your rope. Nanami stands from the chair, cradling you in his arms. His steps are guided by routine, up the stairs and through the first door to the right, straight into the bedroom.

Nanami drops you on the bed.

You can’t really pinpoint when the plush warmth of your bed welcomed you home, but with Nanami’s thick chest pinning you to the sheets, it’s a quick conclusion you push off rather quickly.

How could you focus on such fine details when he’s lathering the junctures of your collarbone in kisses, trailing back up to your awaiting lips. 

“Sweetheart.”

“Yes, Baby?” 

Nanami gives in to you with a kiss, his lips just barely sinking into yours before he’s hulling himself back onto his feet.

“Go get ready for bed and when you wake up, I’ll be right there next to you.”

Sleep is all Namai intended for you to have, he'd be damned if something so trivial as chores would prevent you from rest. And when Nanami did finish up with the last bowl, sleep fell heavy on his mind all the same.

It weighed heavy on his mind through a hot shower, through his nightly routine, even as he mindlessly slipped into a pair of briefs and beneath the bed sheets.

But…his tired eyes had to land on you—his precious angel.

Oh, his pretty wife who glows underneath the moon’s rays, laid on your side with the blanket tucked up to your chin. He’s eager to join you, sliding himself right beside your body—where nothing but a pair of panties hugs you. 

It certainly doesn’t help how you gravitate to Nanami, even while underneath sleep’s spell. Grinding the thick globes of your ass into his lap—and right where the head of his cock sits snug against the waistband of his briefs.

In a desperate search for a distraction, Nanami cranes his neck to greet the neon red digits bleeding through the face of his bedside clock—where the best joke known to man awaits him.

1:32 AM. 

Just an hour into the new day Nanami is met by pure mockery. Of course, his sweet wife all swept up in sleep makes for an even better punch line—-the growing bulge sinking between your ass. A quiet mind is all he wants, why he’s drowning his mind in those meditative mantras you’ve taught him when work becomes too much all at once.

But it’s a fleeting dream the moment those throbs ripple through the thick veins stretching over his cock. 

“Sweetheart, c’mon…give me a chance at least,” he’s muttering for his ears alone. 

Yet the only chance Nanami knows he has is to follow in your steed and sleep away his impending thoughts. He gently lifts the blanklet up to his shoulder, only for the chilling gush to fan across your body.

“Mmm, ‘m cold, Ken.”

“I know, I know, I’m gonna fix that right away, Sweetheart.”

Sunken beneath the heavy blanket, Nanami carves out every inch of your spine with his chest, slotting himself flush against you. His arms surge to envelop you, giving way for his hand to greedily cup the silky fat of your breast.

For a moment he’s sworn he’s beaten lust curse because well, cradling his sleeping beauty like this, allowing for his body, his warmth to sew his body to your own. 

“How’s that? Feels warmer now, Sweetheart?” His voice gently coos in your ear. 

He doesn’t expect much, a sheepish nod and a mumble thrillingly satisfies Nanami. He can’t explain it, but as he steals a glance over you, he finds his wretched mind delighted by mundane beauty.

A painting is known to capture a moment in time through the perspective of the artist—but what Nanami’s eye beholds before him is too good for any picture, any painting, for every medium of art would fail to capture the radiant glow the moon kisses upon your skin. It would fail to mimic the soft curl of your lips, free from control and lifted behind the pure rapture of your mind. It certainly couldn’t transcribe the very details consumed by Nanami. 

Maybe it’s due to the curse of the night overwhelming Nanami, but he simply can’t be alone right now, not while love has him spiraling down a self-induced hole. He can’t stop himself from taking to your shoulder, granting his lips the tactful satisfaction of littering kisses upon your skin.  

“Honey…are you really asleep?” He pouts, yet he immediately reflects on himself as he swipes yet another look at the clock. “

It’s what…1:40 now, I should be asleep too, however…” 

Breaking his trail of kisses, Nanami softly sighs as he gathers all his wayward thoughts, all for this moment only he’ll hold a record of.

“I can only say this while you sleep. It’s pathetic of me, but I haven’t gotten the confidence to face you as I should. I’m not one for many words, nor do I show all the emotion I hold inside of me. But, I hope that my love for you bleeds through every touch, every stare, every kiss, and every breath. I breathe for you. I live for you. And should it come to pass, I’d kill for you. I’ve never felt more endeared to anyone before but you…You give me all the strength I need to be a better man. I just hope to-"

“...Ken, Honey? Are you on a phone call?”

“Oh um…” His blood’s running cold through every vein in his body. Suddenly, he’s stricken dumb and frozen underneath the weight of speculation. But he is who he is—a calm man with logic on his sleeve. Pushing out a huff through his nose, Nanami finds himself at ease as he peers down at your hazy eyes.

“N-No, no…just…thinking aloud. Go back to sleep, okay?”

You muse him with a passing look over your shoulder. “Thinking aloud, hm? Tell me.”

Before Nanami can conjure up some excuse as his alibi, you’ve already to bury yourself within his chest. Your soft hands buff his nerves down to naught through lazy swipes across his taut pecs. In your care, his heart’s raging scream dwindles down to a tepid thump, his lungs spoiled with fulfilling breaths, and his mind’s calmer than the vast Pacific Ocean—all thanks to you. 

“You…really want to know?” 

“Yup,” your eyes flutter open to hang upon Nanami’s heavy lids. “Tell me anything and everything.”

Giving in, Nanami’s head falls into a gentle tilt, “Do you know how beautiful are you?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“You say it like that, but I don’t know if you really do…”

“You think so highly of me.”

“I have to, you’re the woman I’ve devoted my life to.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret?” Nanami has to echo. It’s just one of the words that have escaped his vocabulary in recent years. And a regret in your presence is something he knows he’ll never, ever know again. “Never. And even if I did, I’d do it all again just to be with you.”

Gently you bite into your bottom lip “Do you remember our wedding night?”

“Of course I do. I mean it was such a—-”

“I think tonight’s going to be a repeat of that. Or better.”

As your words break through the air, you’re given the honor of watching Nanami crumble underneath the heat of your advances. Blush breaks across his cheeks, his pupils blown wide by lust’s bite, and right beneath your hand his heart’s back to roaring its spirted song.

“Real—ahem—Really? And why’s that?”

“Welllll…” The soft drag of your coo lures Nanami into hypnosis. “I just think it is, Baby. How’s that sound to you?”

“Go—Good. I can’t ever say—” 

Nanami lets your lips swallow down the last of his words in your kiss. He lets you take his last breath, his last thoughts, and all the sanity he thought he relied upon. In trade of that, he’s given the chance to relinquish all control just to drink in your soft whimpers, to sate his whims with your kiss, to scour your soft skin with his rough hands. 

Reality sets in hard and heavy for Nanami. To think, just moments ago he was too absorbed in admiring you—his wife, his lady, his precious angel tucked beside him like any other night.

His precious angel who wears sleep with a plump pout and soft snores.

His precious angel clutching at the thick pillow beneath your head.

His precious angel who has sin creeping along your curves and slipping beneath a pair of lacy red panties.

“Mmm…Ken…” your voice quietly breaks against his puffy lips. Your hips flirt with Nanami’s feathering touch, winding along to his shy caress. “Hmph…right…right there…”

“Yeah?” He allows for a lone digit to greet your dormant clit, the warmth of his touch gently thumbing circles into your bundle of nerves. “It’s riiiight here, isn’t it pretty girl?���

He plays coy, letting honey drip from his lips and into your ear. “Tell me so I can make everything better, Sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Ken please—Harder, baby, Harder!”

Dumbfounded. A dumbfounded gawk is all Nanami can muster towards you—until the ends of his mouth curl up into a grin he buries along the pulse of your throat.

“Harder?” He mocks with a hiked brow. “I don’t think you can take that, Honey. No…but…since you asked so nicely…”

SLAP!

The loud clash of Nanami's palm against your splayed cunt rings in silence over the room, serving as the perfect beat for your body to comprehend the brash course your husband's veered the night into.

“Oh–Fuck!” Tossing your head back between your shoulders, you mewl as the heavy chimes around the room. “T-that’s too much, Ken!”

Nanami hides his chuckle behind a kiss he presses to your temple. “I Promise that’s the last time tonight.” His sights slip down between your legs, watching as his fingers work to soothe your poor clit from his torture. 

He feathers down to your slit, the tight pink ring suckling to Nanami’s familiar touch. His intentions you know are pure, even amidst such lust staining the air. He’s so gentle with you, having his digits complement the perky bud of your clit with sluggish strokes, teasing your hole with the sticky circles he draws. 

All for his digits to fall victim to your pussy.

“Oh, such a greedy baby,” Nanami gasps. He’s forced to ignore the heavy stains of precum ruining his briefs, but he simply can’t let you have your way. It’s enough that he’s curling those slender fingers within your heat, strumming along the gummy walls he’s planning on staining white.  “You can’t take me just playing with you, you need so much more.”

A slight curl to your lips spites him. “I guess you know me well, Honey. Your fault for spoiling me.”

“And? You know I don’t regret a moment of it.”

He’s so sweet with you, peppering kisses along your cheeks, filling your mind with saccharine hymns. Yet he’s incessant with his reach, sending his digits to know every inch of your pussy with each strike he drills into your sweet spot.

It's just like Nanami, once he’s found a goal, he’ll work and work until the logic runs dry in his mind. He’ll work a hellish job for the trade of money, he’ll risk his life for the trade of saving others, and he’ll work his hand to the raw nerve to turn your pussy into a sputtering mess. 

“Good girl, you’re making me so proud, Baby,” Nanami coos, his eyes glued between your twitching legs. “Oh, I wish you could see what I do.”

“A-and w..wha-at’s that?” 

Your stumbling words earn an esteemed chuckle from Nanami. “Well…I could always just describe it to you…But there’s something I need to do first...”

It isn’t like him to keep you puzzled, especially with words nonetheless. But Nanami’s a man of action, letting his body move to support his cause. His cause for tonight, however, called for his body to slip away from your warmth all for him to be planked between your thighs and his hands kneading at your plushy skin. 

“That’s even better. Now, where do I even begin…”

His thumb comes to peck at your bud, lazily scrolling at the perky pearl in swipes. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, counting the minutes until I’m back at your side…back between your legs…back to having this pussy drip bliss back into my poor soul.”

It isn’t enough to have you laid out on a silver platter where his tongue can lather at your honey for hours—Nanami needs you to know just how deep his depravity lies. He slowly drags his tongue to wet his plump lips, soothing the ravenous urge that boils to the forefront of his mind with dumb babbles. 

“Just so…pretty…and pink. So sweet, so soft. Honey, I can’t go a day without you, you’re my lifeline, every beat of my heart. I just…”

His touch gets the better of his coherency. He knows better than to find focus elsewhere when speaking, but in truth, Nanami did not—he should not have caught your slicked hole fluttering at the sound of his soliloquy. 

“Oh…Fuck me…”

He wants to be kind, he wants to be sweet, and Nanami wants to embody the very traits he’s fallen in love with.

But he can’t.

Nanami can’t play the nice guy when he greedily welcomes your pussy back into his salacious mouth with a gracious sigh, his jaw hungrily working to force that poor button into a pudgy bloat.

Cunnilingus. It’s an art he’s swiftly mastered after three years of marriage, learning every inch of your body like your own. He knows where exactly his tongue should flit, where his finger curls the best, and even how long it should take for your body to shatter at his hands.

But it’s an effortless art when mastered behind love, and it steals Nanami’s breath away every time he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” his curse breaks through the air. His hands knead at the silky plush hidden underneath your thigh, leaving every curve of his fingerprint to sear into you—-to mark you as his own. He’s eager to catch your eyes, those adorable eyes that well up with the fattest tears whenever he pedals his tongue right against your clit.   

As the age-old game of cat and mouse welcomes itself onto the stage known as the bed, you unassumingly take up your role the second you jerk away from Nanami’s silent plea.

What he wants from you—time, affection, or maybe even an orgasm, every idea falls to the back burner the moment your hips mindlessly buck into his mouth. You could have sold him the story of it being an accident, but why ruin his fun where he’s so hellbent on this one night that your body’s finally taking offense?

Though, when the rare glow dots the eyes he shoots up at you, you swear you can see hearts in the distance of his blown pupils. 

“Oh, look at that,” Nanami almost humors himself as he takes another glance at your cunt.

A precarious man such as he can’t afford to miss any details. His eyes cling to the unfolding sight, how his thick digits bathe in your essence, carefully sketching his own path about your folds so rich with nerves. He’s shamelessly gawking at how the succulent hues of rose bodes well with his fair skin, each pass he bestows upon your cunt pulls him into a self-induced trance.

“Making such a mess just from me talking. What a dirty mind you’ve got, isn’t that right, Honey?” 

Right on the tip of your tongue, the words baste behind the sweetest rapport. You could let him have him, fill his ears with talk of how lechery paints his face like a mask. He is your husband, yet the side he’s letting out to roam tonight leaves your fuzzy mind combing with an answer—and fast. 

“W-Where is this co-comming f-from, Baby?” 

That’s what you say, but the moans slipping from your traitorous mouth when Nanami plants one last kiss to your folds tells him all that needs to be known.  

“What?” He chuckles to himself. The pads of his digits wade through the glassy web sewn between your delicate folds, “Can’t handle me talking about your pussy, Sweetheart? I’m sorry but you'll have to take it. And, speaking of taking it…you know what else I love about you?”

“What’s that?” Your voice trails out behind a whimper.

Just to catch your eye, Nanami allows for the single tug of his briefs to free him from hell reincarnated. With the gray waistband sitting underneath the heavy bloat of his balls, his hand hungrily grips the base of his cock. A hellish squeeze around his rippling veins has your eyes nearly crossing at the pearly tears spilling from his tip. 

With the thread of sanity left in your mind, your hands race to ball the blanket within your fists, for some kind of grounding. “Fuck! Please! Please, tell me, I can’t wait anymore, Baby!”

“Let me show you then,” Nanami hums as he cup at the back of your knees. “I love when I fold you in half…juuuust like this…”

His words speak for him, Nanami’s sheer strength working pin your poor, tired body into one of his favorite positions—a mating press.

“I can see just how hard you try to take every inch of me. Making your poor pussy stretch around my cock, you must really love me, don’t you Honey?”

It’s sinfully natural the way the fat blushing crown of Nanami’s cock sits upon your clit, a detail he’s made himself keen to. His thick bulb sobbing those white tears all because of badly he needed to have you. To have his fingers work at your gushing cunny is one thing, his cock on the other hand?

He’s on course to face ruin tonight.

He’s already planning the next position, the hour, the next day, all dedicated to keeping his fat length choked within your walls for as long as he could.

Why with such knowledge, it’s no wonder his hips fall into a languid toll, leaving the thick head to trace every curve of your cunt. He’s driving up against every nerve just to watch your face quiver, to see those tears he loves so much all from a little teasing. 

His head dips along the marked tract of your neck, a cowardly move to hide his own flush face. His hands clip to your waist, baring your body between the smothering warmth of his thick chest and bed—without an inch to spare. 

His muffled voice hums against your neck, “T-That feels good right?” 

“Fuh–it’s s’ good Ken. ‘m so close, Baby please!” 

“It’s too soon to cum, Sweetheart—you know that.” Nanami faces betrayal from his warning, his hips snapping against your own. “Just take it nice ‘nd eas–shit! Oh Honey, you feel so…so…fuck, that’s so good!”

“Kennnn! Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” You hysterically sob in his ear. It’s all for good reason as those ominous white stars begin to freckle your vision. The knot hasn’t even pulled taut shattered and yet you’re already a victim to its claim. The mind-altering high that rips you out of your body for nothing short of a few seconds.

“Hold it, you can’t yet, Sweetheart, not—”

Sending your grip to sink into the twitching muscle of his biceps, you whimpered out against Nanami’s wishes. “I can’t, Kento! It’s too much!” You knew all too well what was coming and as much as Nanami claims to know as well, he simply couldn’t have you reeling off something so mundane as humping. 

“Please Honey, hold it. Just a little—”

“Fuck! ‘m cumming!” 

The perilous yelp echoes around the room as the pure state of bliss paints itself white in your mind. All that pressure, the tensions, it all slips away from you through the harsh arch your spine fights beneath Nanami.

It’s futile to try and stop the inevitable, and the bliss that comes with surrender is all the more peaceful. When your body tingles with the aftershocks, your mind hazy from the stress and woes of the day, all of the negative can’t survive when a high like that comes crashing hard and heavy. 

Exhaustion houses itself in your body, accompanying weakness and the giddy smiles that you can’t hold back–until your body feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest.

“That…whew, that was so—Kento?”

Your spotty sights focus upon falling onto Nanami’s silhouette, his towering form resting back on his haunches. His hand’s fallen between your bodies, a loose fist drumming against your skin. He’s pummeling his cock beneath harsh strokes, forcing abstract thick ropes of white to dance along your puffy lips. 

“Ken, Baby?” You call out cautiously as his body collapses over yours. “It’s okay,”  we can call it an early night–”

“I can’t leave you unsatisfied, it was pathetic of me to let go right now,” He huffs,  We’ve got our routine—gonna fill this pretty pussy so fucking full just so I can clean you up. And I have to tell you something.”

Your eyes soften over Nanami, desperately watching as the man seeks redemption. He isn’t one to be a sore loser, but when it comes to you—he’ll work until he breaks just to know that he was behind your euphoria. 

All resolutions point to you supplying his motive with undying support, especially when your digits reach to strum at the sparse blond hairs along the nape of his neck. “Go ahead, tell me Ken.”

A wicked grin stretches onto Nanami’s features, only to hide behind a kiss within the valley of your breasts.

“Oh, I love you so much, Baby. Can’t wait to give all my love to the prettiest girl!”

[amorisxx]

Snickerdoodle pt. iii

(Halloween special)

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader summary: The fall fest rolls around. You and Art are part of the parent committee. An unexpected meeting leads to another moment in a parking lot. warnings: smut 18+, car sex, piv, cheating, description of panic attack word count: 3.6K a/n: This part gives a bit more context to each of their lives. It doesn't really progress the plot very much, but I enjoyed writing it. previous part | next part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

It’s a Wednesday afternoon. The house is quiet, free of the frenetic energy that children bring. Kaleb is still at school, and you’d taken the day to finish preparing your baked goods for the fall fest on Friday. The only noise to be heard is the sound of Art panting into your ear.

“Oh…f-fuck… please, please.”

Halfway through decorating the sugar cookies, he’d started pressing kisses to the side of your neck. You had tried shooing him off, but it was to no avail.

That’s how you end up pressed against the kitchen counter with your dress bunched up at the hips. One strap is halfway down your arm as Art frantically ruts into you from behind.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans into your neck. 

He has one hand holding your hip in place while his other arm pins your back against his chest. In between thrusts, he uses one hand to greedily palm at your breasts.

When you start clenching around him, Art snakes a hand around to your front. He moves his fingers to where his cock is throbbing inside you. He groans at the wetness that has seeped out of you and collected at his base. You moan when he drags his fingers up to rub desperate circles over your slippery clit.

“Want you to cum, ah, need to feel it baby, please,” he pants.

It isn’t long before you’re throwing your head back and squeezing around him.

Ѽ

“Now, will you please let me finish these cookies?” You huff. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you come over.”

He snorts. “You said you could use the help.”

“Well that’s when I thought you’d actually be of some help.”

He grins at you with lidded eyes.

The truth is Art did come over to help you, but he also came because watching you bake has become one of his favorite things to do. Since the two of you have started seeing each other more often, he’s started spending time at your place during the weekends when Kaleb has to stay with his dad. Though you don’t admit it, he’s noticed that you tend to bake when you’re worried. Art thinks it must take your mind off of things. It’s as if you go on autopilot. You disappear into the task as everything fades to the background. It reminds Art of what tennis used to feel like.

The baking also reminds him of his grandmother. Before she moved to the nursing home, she would always bake cookies for Art when he was young. He’d know because the sweet aroma would fill his nostrils upon entering the front door.

Sometimes, he was able to watch her bake and take in the entire process. It was calming for him to observe all the various steps and pass her different ingredients. He wondered how she knew the exact amount to add, and she’d tell him it was because of “years and years of practice.” Art quickly grew fond of the idea of building something up from scratch. And he learned that through lots of practice, you could make something really sweet.

So, in a way, you remind Art of his grandmother. He doesn’t tell you that though because he doesn’t think that’s the best thing to say to someone he’s just been balls deep inside. He does tell you, however, that he likes seeing you like this.

You look up at him in between adding orange icing to a cookie. Some of the icing spills onto the counter as you tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

He gestures around the kitchen. “It’s nice, you know, being able to watch you make something.”

Though you’re looking down at the cookie, he sees the smile splitting your lips open. Art leans forward and swipes the icing from the counter with his index finger before popping it into his mouth. He smiles at you around his finger, and you flush as warmth spreads throughout your body.

Ѽ

“Nancy,” you start. “I just finished setting up this entire table. I am not moving all of this again.” You gesture to the spread of homemade cookies, pumpkin shaped cake pops, and pretzel rods dipped and drizzled in orange, black, and purple icing and sprinkles. The cookies themselves were a pain to arrange. You wanted there to be an even number of skull and jack-o’-lantern shaped sugar cookies on each platter. And each cookie needed to be facing forward. You didn’t think you had the patience for some snaggletoothed kid to ask what’s this? And plant their finger right on the cookie only to decide they hate pumpkins and leave it there. 

“Okay!” She says defensively. “I just wonder if it’s such a good idea for the sweets table to be so close to the bouncy house. I wouldn’t want the kids to get sick.”

She turns to assess the giant inflated pumpkin. “I’d say they probably need a good 50 feet to walk and let the cookies settle before they start jumping up and down…don’t you think?”

You stare back blankly at the woman. “You just had me move because you said the smell of the petting zoo might ruin appetites.”

“And it could!” She whips her head back around at you, her blonde bob slapping the side of her face. “Those baby goats are cute, but they don’t smell great hon!”

You fold your arms.

“Alright.” Nancy raises a hand with a shake of her bobble head. “We won’t move,” she relents, “but could you maybe just tell each kid to eat their treats at the table, you know just to make sure they stand around for a couple of minutes before running to the bouncy castle?”

You start to tell her that it’ll be hard to control what a bunch of excited, elementary schoolers do after they get some sugar in them, but decide it’s not worth arguing with her. You glance over at her husband, Frank, who has set out his red and black folding chair next to the drink cooler. She’d instructed him to make sure each kid grabbed one drink at a time because “lord knows we’ll be picking up half full juice boxes all night.” Without so much as a glance, he’d mumbled a well versed “yes honey” and sat in his chair, staring into the distance and scratching his chest.

You decide to take a page out of Frank’s book.

“Sure, Nancy.”

Ѽ

Your table proves to be a popular one. You’re not even halfway through the festival, and most of your cake pops are gone, and the sugar cookies are depleting by the minute. You blame Art for being such a distraction that you didn’t think to bake more cookies just in case. Once he’s done with face painting duty, you plan on letting him have it.

You’re counting how many jack-o’-lantern  cookies are left on the platters when a voice interrupts you.

“I always did love your baking.”

“Chris? What are you doing here?”

Your ex husband is standing in front of you, hands in his pockets as he smiles down at your spread of goodies.

He makes his way over to your side of the table. “My boy practically begged me to come, so of course I had to show up.”

You turn and purse your lips. “Well I hadn’t heard from you so I assumed you weren’t coming. They took your name off the list at the PTA meeting.”

“Dad!”

You look over to see your son barreling towards his father. He laughs reaching out to haul him up into the air. His little pirate hat goes crooked on his head. “You came!”

“Yeah, man, I told you I would!”

They fall into their own conversation as you help serve treats to some other kids that have wandered to the table. Despite your feelings about Chris, you can’t help but smile at the sound of Kaleb’s giggles. You’re glad that his dad’s presence brings him so much joy. You remember a time when you too felt that unyielding happiness around him. That flutter in your belly and the warmth in your chest that can only be characterized as pure, genuine fondness. God, you were so fond of him.

At the time, you thought you could never experience anything better than that. It’s why you agreed to marry him. And why you also agreed to stopping your birth control. Knowing he wanted to start a family with you made you love him even more, because to have a child with someone is to irrevocably tie yourself to that person. Being loved by Chris was your point of reference for so long.

But that was before.

Before he decided you weren’t enough for him, before he decided to be withholding, before he made you feel unlovable. It turns out that having a child with someone isn’t the symbol of unconditional love that you’d believed it was. Once you had removed the rose tinted glasses, you were able to see that love isn’t something that’s promised to you. Even if someone makes that promise to you, the love itself may not endure. You’re not sure how much control Chris really had when it came to loving you. You’re still figuring out what love entails when you’re not with him.

Now, you just hope that Kaleb will never learn what it’s like to not be loved by his father. That he’ll never have to vie for his affections nor his attention. That he will always feel held by his love and not stifled by it.

You feel something poke your hip, jolting you from your thoughts. It’s Kaleb, pressing his plastic pirate’s hook into your side to get your attention. You grab the hook in your hand, reminding him to be mindful of the point. He offers you a sheepish, snaggletoothed smile. “Sorry.”

You sigh and run your hands over his curls before gently tugging his ear. It’s a habitual motion that began when he was a toddler. He could be a little rambunctious, running around the house in nothing but a pull-up to avoid bedtime. When you’d finally catch him, you would ruffle his hair and gently pinch his little ears, calling him a silly monkey. He would erupt into fits of giggles before breaking away again making “ooh-ooh ah-ah” sounds.

Kaleb takes his arm behind his back in an effort to control his hook. “Dad said I can go with him tonight!”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! Said once this is over we can go have some real fun!”

Chris laughs, patting Kaleb’s shoulder.

“What does that mean? Real fun?” You raise an eyebrow at your ex.

“Oh Christ! I’m just gonna take him to get some ice cream or something,” he says.

“I’m just trying to make sure my son doesn’t pick up any of your…” you look over him from head to toe, “… bad habits.”

He rolls his eyes.

“But yeah, that’s fine,” you sigh. “Do you have the booster seat?”

“Yeah, and it’s the perfect height for him to see the girls at the strip club tonight,” he cracks a smile like it’s the funniest thing ever.

Kaleb catches sight of a classmate and almost knocks his dad over in his haste to run to them. Chris shouts “Be careful!” before glancing over at you and chuckling.

You curl your lip in disgust before turning toward the couple approaching your table and offering them a bright smile. You can feel Chris’ eyes on you as you move to serve them. Once they’ve gone, you turn to him.

“Is there a reason you’re still standing here?”

He chuckles. “How do you know I didn’t want some of your cookies?”

“Okay, well what are you getting?” You ask impatiently.

He doesn’t answer the question. Instead, he runs his thumb over his bottom lip and smirks, “You look really good.”

Your stomach twists.

“I miss you.” He searches your face. “You know that?”

You scoff. “No you don’t,” you say definitively before turning away from him.

You then notice that Art is making his way over to your table. He’s wearing the same black and orange “fall fest committee” shirt that you are, but his figure fills it out much better than you can. His jeans are hanging effortlessly on his hips, and you think that if he hadn’t stuck with tennis all those years, modeling would’ve been a great second option.

Your field of vision gets cut off by your mosquito of an ex husband. You literally swat at him to move away, but he’s still smiling at you.

“Please just get whatever you’re gonna get and leave me alone.”

He reaches for you. “C’mon, baby, don’t be like that.”

You yank your arm out of his reach, sending him a warning glare.

He ignores the warning, stepping closer to you to lean down near your ear. “You know every time I come pick up Kaleb, I just think, God, what will it take for me to get those pretty legs open again?”

A loud smack resounds as his head snaps to the side. You’re gritting your teeth. “Fuck you.”

He holds his cheek from where you’ve smacked him, a tiny smirk etched onto his face.

You point your finger at him. “How dare you? How dare you come to me with this shit! You have a fucking fiancée!” Your hands have started to tremble as your anger rises. “I mean, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?? You don’t get to treat me the way you did then come here saying shit like that!”

You don’t realize that Art has been standing there. He sees your trembling hands and glassy eyes and subtly positions himself between the two of you. “Is everything okay?”

You’re still glaring at your ex as if daring him to say something else.

Like the coward he is, Chris lowers his voice like he’s talking to a rabid animal. He tells you that you need to calm down before turning to Art. “Yeah, man, everything’s fine.” It’s just like him to make it seem like you’re the one who’s unhinged in the company of outsiders.

Thankfully, Art isn’t just some person.

He fully stands between the two of you, blocking you from Chris’ sight. You hear him say, “yeah well it doesn’t seem like it, man.” The muscles in his back are tense and his shoulders are square.

Chris sounds like he’s about to say something, but Art doesn’t let him finish. “I think you should leave her alone.”

You swallow and look down at your shaky hands willing them to be still.

Chris makes a move to step around Art. His jaw is clenched tight. “Respectfully, I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

Art lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. It wasn’t a request,” he says.

A second or two passes by as the two men stare at each other. Chris squints at Art, throws a glance around at you before stepping back with a laugh. He shakes his head assessing the way Art has planted himself in front of you. His eyes drop to where you’re fisting the end of Art’s t-shirt in an attempt to calm your nerves. He mumbles something about not being surprised but continues his retreat. “I’ll drop Kaleb off Sunday night,” he announces over his shoulder.

Once he’s gone, Art turns to you, rubbing his palms down your arms. “Hey,” he bends down to look you in your eyes. “You’re okay.”

It only makes your lip tremble more, the anger from earlier dissipating as something else takes over. Art tells you he’ll be right back. You bring your arms over your chest as your breathing gets heavier. The ruckus in the air is starting to feel suffocating. Your ears are ringing and you begin to feel tingling in your cheeks.

When Art comes back, he has Nancy’s husband, Frank, in tow. He tells him something, but you can’t hear him over the sound of your own heartbeat. You’re gasping for air. You barely pick up Art’s voice saying “come with me.” You let him take your hand and lead you out of the chaos.

Ѽ

The sound of Art’s car door shutting makes you realize that your face has stopped tingling. You blink as your breathing returns to normal and the static-like ringing in your ears fades away. You rub your palms over your fabric covered thighs and take one big breath before exhaling. Something moves in your peripheral vision, and you glance to your left. Art is sitting in the driver’s seat, but most of his upper body is facing you. His soft eyes watch you with a patience that makes you want to cry all over again. You reach for him.

Art immediately pulls you to him, letting you settle in his lap as you wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to your head.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Baby,” he runs a hand over your back.

“No, it was pathetic. I can’t believe I let him get under my skin like that.”

“It was a panic attack. It’s not your fault,” Art murmurs into your hair. “And that’s exactly why he did that. He wanted to get a reaction out of you. Don’t blame yourself.”

You lift your head up to look at him. You search his face. All you find is sincerity.

You brush your thumb over the skin behind his ear and lean in. Your noses gently bump against one another before you’re pressing your lips to his. It’s soft, slow, and deliberate. Art places his palm flat against the small of your back as he returns the kiss with equal tenderness. Through your lips and your tongue, you try to tell Art everything you aren’t able to say with your voice. And if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling you the exact same thing back.

When you bring your hips down to roll against him, Art tells you “we don’t have to.” It’s your turn to tell him that you want this.

You move to the backseat. He peppers quick kisses over you every now and then as you both work to get each other’s pants down. It would probably be quicker to simply take them off one at a time, but you two aren’t thinking properly. Your head is swimming from how bad you need him right now. Once you’ve gotten your jeans off, and Art’s are to his knees, he’s sitting back against the black leather, pulling you with him.

You release a small whimper when his wet mouth attaches to your throat. His forehead knocks against your shoulder as you reach your hands under his shirt. “Off. Please.” He lets out a soft grunt as he complies with your request.

Before he can fully toss the committee shirt to the side, you’re running your hands over his chest. You stop at his nipples, letting your thumb roll over the small buds. Despite his attempt to hold it in, Art moans when you lean down and swirl your tongue around his nipple. It makes his cock jump.

You begin to move against his hard member, seeking out the friction of him bumping against your clit. Art gets his tongue back into your mouth as he reaches under your shirt, pinching your nipples. His lips smack against yours as he brings his hands around to your back. He lets them trace down your spine until they meet the band of your underwear.

Art dips both hands into your panties and smoothes his palms over your cheeks. He grips your ass as he guides you to rock against him. You moan into his mouth before you lift your hips to allow him room to pull his underwear down his thighs.

His dick slaps against his abdomen.

Your mouth waters and your stomach clenches in anticipation. You reach for him, and Art lets you take him in your hand, pumping him one, two, three times before he’s greedily grabbing your hips. He promptly hooks his thumb in the seat of your panties. He uses the leverage to pull them to the side, and you guide his tip to rub against your sticky folds. You moan as you drag it upwards to which Art starts rutting his head against your clit.

Without warning, you press Art’s tip to your opening. He hisses when you start to sink down onto him. With him fully buried in your cunt, you let out a sigh. He wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you to his chest. You two share a kiss as he begins shallowly thrusting into you.

Ѽ

After the both of you have finished, Art doesn’t pull out right away. He keeps you there for a moment telling you he just wants to feel you for a little bit more. Naturally, you don’t protest. The two of you sit within the fogged windows of his car in blissful silence as he lazily strokes your back.

Unfortunately, the shrill ringing of your cellphone punctures that silence.

It’s Nancy.

She asks where you’ve disappeared to, then doesn’t let you respond as she tells you that Frank is at your table which is now empty. They’re going to start cleaning up in about 45 minutes.

When you rejoin the festival, you and Art spot your kids and their friends comparing their various prizes and candy. Standing off to the side is Tashi. She sends you a smile when she notices you. Your stomach drops.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: As always, let me know what you think <3 my asks are open!

[stellewriites]

Hii! Can you do ghoap x reader fluff? Like cuddles with mild flirting (from soap, obviously) and like soap is the little spoon, because in return he gets head scratches in return, reader in the middle, and Simon as the big spoon just pressing his face into the crook of readers neck?

Would rlly apreciate it <3

-🌑

i loved this idea when i read it and then proceeded to take far too long to actually answer it lmao BUT!! here it is,, ghoap x fem!reader fluff - ty for the request 💓

you picked up the cheap jar of pasta sauce and compared it to the branded version stacked next to it. as far as you could tell, the ingredients were the same and the little veg chunks included weren’t any smaller.

you nodded to yourself. it was decided, you weren’t paying two quid extra just for a name, fuck dolmio.

you looked higher to the top shelf and frowned when you saw the pasta had been pushed away from the edge and you’d be unable to reach it on your own.

“need a hand, dove?”

you turned to see a handsome man with a mohawk beelining towards you, his eyes tracing your frame with hot familiarity. without waiting for your response, he bullied his way into your space to reach over you for the pasta. barely stepping back, he handed you the pack and looked you up and down.

“thanks, stranger,” you said, holding back a laugh at his amused smile. you saw the moment he decided to play along.

“pretty skirt,” he said and nodded down to your bare legs peeking out beneath the denim.

“hm, my boyfriend got me it,” you said, a little teasingly.

“oh? and this boyfriend, he’s left ye all alone to do the shoppin’ has he?”

“no, he’ll be back soon. and he’s kinda protective, won’t be happy seeing me talking to other guys,” you said trying not to smile.

“ah’m no’ scared,” he scoffed, his own smile breaking out as he looked around the aisle eagerly for the aforementioned boyfriend.

“i don’t know, he’s pretty big and strong, wears a scary mask,” you said.

“aye? reminds me o’ my boyfriend,” he said and you finally giggled, leaning in to kiss him and giving up playing pretend.

“dove, they got their tiger bread in stock again,” simon said as he rounded the corner of the aisle and interrupting your kiss. “i ha’n’t ‘ad this in ages.” simon barely paused at the unexpected appearance of johnny, his eyes turning up in the corners as he smiled under his mask. “johnny, look, tiger bread.”

“yeah, i seen, si,” johnny said fondly, crowding you back against the trolley. “only getting the one loaf?”

simon paused. “hm. you’re right.”

you snorted as he dropped the bread into the trolley before heading back to the bakery section and leaving the pair of you alone again.

“work was a fookin’ drag, dove, cannae stand all this paperwork they’re keepin’ me busy with,” johnny groaned into your temple. you petted his arm consolingly before turning back to your list and shopping trolley.

“you were injured less than a month back, john, you can’t have been expecting to be back in the field so soon?” you hummed as you continued shopping with johnny leant over your back.

his silence spoke volumes.

you shook your head as you made your way through the store and waved simon over as you passed him by, hoping he hadn’t harassed the bakery staff into making more tiger loaves last minute for him. the absolute fiend.

“wha’s wrong with him?” simon asked as he got back, hands full as he nodded to johnny’s slumped frame. you refrained from asking simon if you really needed three tiger breads and instead nudged your other boyfriend up from your shoulder.

“he’s bored,” you said easily, grinning when johnny pulled back properly to send you a betrayed look.

“fuck’s sake. c’mere,” simon huffed before dipping down to kiss him, chuffing a laugh as johnny sputtered at the woollen texture of the mask in between them. “you’ll be back in no time. just behave or it’ll be longer.”

“ye sound like cap,” johnny grimaced. he wiped a hand down his tired face. “when are we goin’ home, hm? fuckin’ knackered, could do with a nap before dinner.”

“y’drive ‘ere?” ghost asked while you grabbed a box of eggs, checking for any cracked inside.

“aye.”

“then you can leave whenever,” ghost said flatly, though the glint of his eyes in the overhead lights betrayed his amusement at johnny’s plight.

johnny pouted.

“yer cruel, si. tell him, dove, he’s heartless,” johnny bemoaned dramatically.

“you’re cruel and heartless, simon, would you prefer strawberry jam or raspberry for a change?”

“could be a treat,” ghost conceded.

johnny groaned at the both of you, pinching your hip when you laughed.

“you both know i cannae sleep without someone’s arms around me,” he huffed, turning his big puppy eyes on you both.

you caved immediately.

“aw poor baby,” you cooed, biting your lip when you saw simon roll his eyes. “let’s get this done quick then, yeah? go grab the burgers we like from the frozen section and that ice cream we got a couple weeks back.”

“yes, ma’am.” johnny jogged off.

“si, can i trust you not to make your way back to the bakery if i give you a list of items to grab?”

“no,” he admitted without shame. “i saw the lad in the back prepping more for tomorrow, think i could convince ‘im to cook ‘em now for me if given the time.”

“right. hand holding it is as we find the toiletries then. ‘s like herding cats with you two.”

simon hummed, his eyes trained on the section you knew the bakery to be hidden in.

—

once home, johnny packed away the majority of your shopping in record time, snatching the jam from simon’s hands and almost throwing it onto the work top before plying his mask up one handed and dragging him down into a rough kiss with the other. you watched, amused, with raised eyebrows as johnny dragged him back towards the bedroom desperately, waving a hand at you and gasping out a needy, “dove, c’mon, stop fucking around,” in between wet kisses.

you didn’t need to be told twice before attaching your hands onto simon’s thick waist from behind, guiding them from bumping into any furniture or walls as they stumbled blind to the bedroom.

johnny pulled back with a dopey smile and pushed simon none too gently onto the bed. you took advantage of his lowered height and pulled off his mask completely, rubbing a gentle hand over his buzz cut hair and down to his jaw. you leant in for a soft peck before feeling johnny’s hands and arms wrap around your soft stomach.

he clung to you, nuzzling at your cheek over your shoulder until you turned in his arms to share your attention.

you heard the bed creak as simon settled further up the bed as johnny kissed you. you shuffled back, parting from johnny just long enough to get your bearings and climb onto the bed, simon’s hands moving to guide you back as johnny hummed against your lips.

you flopped back into simon’s arms, got comfortable as he wrapped you up and held you tight against him.

johnny sighed in relief at the sight and shuffled down so he could rest his head on your chest.

you gathered him close and laughed when he started whining when your hands stayed on his shoulders.

“so needy johnny, have you ever heard the phrase ‘patience is a virtue’?” you teased as you started to run your nails through his hair, lightly scratching until he sighed and dropped his body weight against you and simon.

“too t’red,” he mumbled.

simon lifted his warm hand from your hip and draped it heavily over the back of johnny’s neck, keeping him close. soon enough, the scot was snoring.

you tried not to laugh, your chest bouncing johnny with your muffled chuckles. “i think that might be a record.”

“tired lamb,” simon said condescendingly, but he rubbed his thumb lovingly over the soft skin behind johnny’s ear.

“don’t be mean.” you grinned back at him.

simon hummed and rested his head into the crook of your neck, tucking you in closer with the arm still wrapped underneath your waist. “not bein’ mean.”

he nipped at your neck, a soft nibble that had you gasping and clenching your thick thighs around the one johnny had slipped inbetween.

“prick,” you huffed without malice when he stopped and let out a long tired breath in your ear. he hummed with closed eyes, clearly not listening.

you chuffed a laugh into johnny’s hair. the low thrum of arousal simon had brought on was easy enough to ignore but you’d have rather he’d finished what he started. instead, you tucked your cold toes between his large calves behind you in penance and tugged johnny even closer, enough to smother him. with your arse perched perfectly in simon’s lap and johnny nestled close to his second favourite place on your body, you were sure they’d give you what you were after once their nap is over. you closed your eyes with a smile; you could wait for them to get their energy up, and you loved your puppy piles just as much as they did.

[johnleeswife]

Mephisto

Pairing : Sylus x reader

Context : Inspire by Sylus “Crow” voice call

Warning : None

It’s been a day ‘Mephisto’ in your home. You don’t know why Sylus sent Mephisto to your house. You are not in danger, not in a difficult situation, and you are surely not in a position to be spied on. But here you and Mephisto are staring at each other silently. “Are you going to be here until Sylus tells you to go?”, Mephisto answers with his crow voice. “Fine… Sylus said I can order you around so… I’m not holding back”, Mephisto seemed taken aback by what you said and made a sad noise.

At first, you make Mephisto do something simple like switch on and off lights, open the curtain in the morning, etc. Then you realize that he can project a small screen, oh boy what a life safer he is. You make him report the weather in the morning before you go to work, showing you the recipe of your current viral food that you try to make and you make him show you a list of current hit songs. Yes, you make him play the songs.

Slowly, you begin liking Mephisto by your side. You won't feel lonely when you come back from work and he make your dream come true to have a pet that you don’t have to worry he’ll die because of your lack of care. He accompanies you during your study, cooking, cleaning, everything. Suddenly he disappears and you start to worry. Then you hear a knock on your door.

It’s Sylus behind the door, you welcome him and invite him inside. “It’s your day off right? Let’s hang out”. You still amaze by how he knows everything about you. “Yes… but Mephisto is missing, we have to find him”

“Don’t worry about him, he is a big boy, he’ll do fine”

“Do you make him go out to mission?”

“No, things get better these days and I don’t need him for the time being”

“I’m starting to worry him”

“He’ll be fine, come on, get dressed and we’ll go out”

You and Sylus heading to a supermarket that surprisingly you always go to. “You need milk, cereal, eggs, and cheese and you're out of softener”. You stop walking and stare at him unbelievably. “What the hell Sylus how do you know all of that?”

“You wouldn’t wanna know sweetie”

“The he-”. You unconsciously raise your voice, making everybody in the store look at you. Sylus just walks down the aisle and smirks at you, leaving you behind.

After that, you two go back to your home. Of course, Sylus is the one who paid everything, you didn’t hold him back too. When you arrive at your home, Sylus starts unpacking the groceries and then puts them in the cupboard like he’s living here. You feel a chill down your spine if you think of it. “I think you have all the ingredients to make that viral food. Do you want to try to make that?” Sylus then asked.

“Oh yeah, I do. Mephisto can you-”, you almost forgot that Mephisto is missing. “Sylus, I still worry about Mephisto. Do you really don’t know where he is? Don’t you have some kind of remote to monitor him?”

Sylus stops whatever he is doing and faces you. “Really now? He’ll be fine. Aren’t you hungry? Come on let me cook you something”. Something strikes Sylus today that he treats you well, you wonder what it is. After Sylus is done cooking, you two eat together in your living room while watching a movie. Your mood doesn’t light up a little, even with Sylus’s cooking.

“I still worry about him Sylus”

“Why are you making a fuss about him now? Didn’t you don’t like him before?”

“Well he’s kinda great company, I didn’t realize that I was lonely until he came”

Sylus places his point finger on his forehead and looks at you. “Do you feel lonely right now? Let me remind you that I was behind him all this time”

You turn around to face him. “But you not him, he doesn’t bark like you”

“You like a submissive man I see. As you wish, I’ll become like one for you” Sylus makes a smirk face and places his head on your lap. You are shocked to see Sylus on your lap, adding that Sylus snuggles his face on your stomach and puts his hand behind your back. Now you can’t move because of him.

Knock sound on your window, you see Mephisto knocking on your window. “Mephisto! Sylus, Mephisto is back!”. As you want to open the window, Sylus’s hand wraps around you tighter. “Sylus, I can’t move”.

“He has his sharing, now let me have mine”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mine…”. You sigh defeated. So childish. Let's just say the rest of the day, Sylus is not letting you go and Mephisto just flying out site your place. You feel sorry for Mephisto.

[lubilli]

𝗸𝗻𝘆 𝗵𝗰𝘀 ➠ "cutie!"

synopsis: the hashira men when you call them cute/a cutie

ft. rengoku, giyu, sanemi, obanai, muichiro, tengen

warnings: they're all softies here 💔

r. kyojuro

• he was training while you were watching

• "you're doing so well, kyojuro!"

• he was all blushy cuz u complimented him

• he's used to compliments but it just felt different when you did it

• maybe bc you never really compliment anyone

• and maybe bc he has a praise kink

• "awww, kyojuro, you're such a cutie!" you squealed when you saw the pink dusted all over his cheeks

• his brain almost short circuited

• not even joking

• he's been complimented on his looks before.

• he's been called handsome, good looking, but...cutie? that was a new one

• "kyojuro? are you okay?"

• "yes, y/n! i am completely fine!"

• he said that while his cheeks literally looked like tomatoes

t. giyu

• you just got back from a mission looking half dead

• when giyu saw you, his face literally looked like this -> 😨

• how tf did you even manage to hurt yourself this bad..

• he DEMANDS to patch up ur wounds

• that brings you to your current situation, sitting on giyu's bed while he tends to the wounds

• you winced when he got to a certain cut on your thigh, he glares at you

• "you wouldn't be in this situation if you weren't so reckless, y/n." he scolds you

• you just laugh, "you're cute, giyu."

• it takes him a while before he realizes what you said.

• "did you call me..cute?" he furrows his brows

• "yes..because you are cute."

• continues tending to your wound even though he's literally dying inside

s. sanemi

• he's so aggressive its so hard to find him in a vulnerable state

• ur literally the first hashira to see him all calm

• when he's not screaming and yelling, he's actually really cute

• he loves cooking for you

• he's doing that rn

• "is it good?" he asks

• "it's a little salty..."

• "why can't i ever get this recipe right?!"

• he's so frustrated

• he's tried to cook this one recipe 5 times now but there's always a little too much of a certain ingredient

• you chuckle at his reaction & ruffle his hair

• "you're really cute, y'know?"

• wtf did u just say

• did u just call him cute...

• "WHAT'D YOU JUST CALL ME?!"

• those manic eyes found their way back onto his face

• he's yelling at you but you can see the pink dusted all over his cheeks

• you started calling him cute more often

• acts like he hates it but he literally loves it sm

i. obanai

• you started getting close to him recently

• you found out he actually really likes poetry

• you'll just be sitting under/on a tree and he'll be reading his lil poetry books while you're just dreaming

• you think its so cute when he shows you lil poems he really likes

• "this one reminds me of you" he points to a poem on a page

• you shift your attention from the clouds to his book

• it reads, "A faint clap of thunder,

Even if rain comes or not,

I will stay here,

Together with you."

• bro.

• you died

• why is he so cute sometimes

• scratch that, he's always cute bro

• you smiled so big, "you're really cute, obanai."

• you moved a strand of his long hair and tucked his behind his ears, seeing his beautiful heterochromatic eyes.

• he looked at you with so much love bro

• "cute?" he tilted his head

• "yes, so cute."

• he's a mess but he just nods and continues his reading

• although he literally can't focus bc ur now the only thing on his mind

t. muichiro

• you don't know how you even got close to him

• but he will NOT go cloud-watching without you now

• takes you to his favorite spot

• he just talks abt the clouds while you mess around with his hair

• sometimes braiding it, sometimes doing pigtails or ponytails

• "woah," he stares into the sky with awe

• "what happened?" you ask

• "that cloud looks like a turtle." he pointed

• you looked at it and it really did look like a turtle

• "oh and look, that one looks like a heart." he pointed somewhere else

• wtf hes so cute

• "so cute," you squish his cheeks

• he looks at you dumbfounded

• takes him 4-5 business days to process what you just said

• when he realizes his cheeks flushed pink

• he's literally never felt this before

• wtf type of witchcraft did u put on him

• you tilt your head, "what's wrong, muichiro?"

• "i don't know, but my cheeks and ears feel really warm."

• you laugh, "you really are cute, muichiro." you ruffle his hair.

u. tengen

• you and tengen are close friends

• his estate is like your second house

• started getting close to u bc ur flashy in his eyes

• then he got sent on a few missions with you and your bond grew even more

• anyways you were in tengen's estate rn

• "tengen," you frown

• "hm?"

• "my stomach hurts."

• he frowns, "should i get you a heating pad? do you want water? medicine? chocolate? massage?"

• you smile, "its fine. no need."

• "yes need. i'm not gonna let you endure your pain, y/n. that's very unflashy." he crosses his arms

• "you're such a cutie, tengen."

• he lifts a brow, "cutie? yes, i suppose being a cutie is very flashy." he nods. "now, tell me what you want—heating pad, chocolate, medicine, water, or massage?"

• "you're so stubborn." you shake your head, "but a chocolate sounds nice."

• "done deal. stay here and i'll get you some."

• he came back w some delicious ass chocolate

• "call me that more often. its very flashy."

• "call you what?"

• "cutie."

• you smile, "your wish is my command." you took a bite of the chocolate.

• he pat your head, "get well soon."

[hells-wasabii]

How would each of the Hell characters(Hotel group, Lucifer, Overlords, Vees) do while cooking entirely on their own? Can be platonic or romantic, whichever you want

A/N: So I know I said 2, but the other one isn’t ready yet I’m still writing it. It’s gonna be pretty big too since it’s that velvette part 2. But I had to get my cat spayed today so I’ve been super busy all day keeping her out of trouble and from hurting herself :/ but anywho, enjoy!

Characters: All that I write for

Type: Hesdcanons (hazbin cast cooking headcanons)

Charlie

With Charlie, I’m a little torn. On the one hand, she’s a princess, so cooking would likely be more of a novelty considering she likely had staff to do it for her. But this is Charlie we’re talking about. She would go out of her way to learn how to cook. Wouldn’t give up either, not until she could do it on her own. I would imagine that she started learning from Vaggie and reading cookbooks.

Vaggie

When it comes to Vaggie, she can cook some, but she’s definitely super humble about it, brushing off any compliments because it’s ‘just food’. If the issue is pressed I can see her getting a little embarrassed about it. It’s mostly dishes that she had been taught while she was growing up, along with basic dishes that don’t necessarily require a honed skill to make.

Angel

Angel can cook, though he doesn’t exactly put much effort into it. I can definitely see him just throwing something together so he can eat and move on with whatever else he has going. Baking is a different story. I can really imagine while he was growing up he would sneak his way into the kitchen while his mother and Molly were baking. He picked it up pretty easily. And as someone who enjoys baking let me just say that his extra set of arms would be so helpful.

Husk

Husk was an entertainer in life, growing up in a casino, learning the trades in the house. That also includes the kitchens. Sure he likely didn’t spend a whole lot of time there but he still picked up a thing or two. So he’d be able to hold his own fairly well when it comes to making a homecooked meal.

Alastor

While it’s canon that the radio demon can cook, I feel like he specifically likes to cook recipes his mother left behind. Cooking recipes from his youth reminds him of joining his mother in the kitchen whipping something up for lunch and helping her prep for dinner. He’s not all that adventurous in the kitchen, though. He likes to stick with what he knows and what he grew up with.

Niffty

Having died in the 50s as a young housewife, I genuinely believe that she at least knows some fad recipes, like those salads and casserole recipes. Jello molds too. But that’s not to say that she wouldn’t know some basic stuff. I can definitely see Niffty being the type to try to create whole new recipes with varying, mostly horrifying results.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious is a genius, there’s no doubt about that, but the man can’t cook. At all. He’d burn water honestly. But baking? Oh yeah, he can bake with out a doubt(but not necessarily the decorating part), it’s basically science, but not cook. He’d quite honestly have the Egg Bois help, but let’s be honest here, that’d be a disaster too.

Cherri Bomb

I’ll admit, I wasn’t to sure about Cherri. She just doesn’t seem like the type to cook. Nah. Cherri is the queen of takeout. She can boil water but that’s really about it. Honestly, she’s only really a couple of steps above Sir Pentious, but she can’t bake either. Sometimes though, before Angel went off to the hotel, she would go out and buy ingredients and stuff and go to his apartment and they (he) would make something.

Vox

This man absolutely can cook, and he’s pretty damn good at it too. Considering he’s the television demon, he’s going to have several cooking shows. Hell, he even stars in a couple of them. That being said, he’s not one to do things half-assed. Sure, a lot of cooking shows have stuff that was prepared beforehand, but with Vox’s he goes out of his way to actually make the dishes in real time.

Valentino

I stand by my headcanons from my Valentino posts. He can cook, but it’s honestly a solid 50-50 on whether or not it’s burnt or edible. He’s pretty easily distracted, whether it’s a phone call or something else entirely, so if it's a dish that you have to pay close attention to, it’s likely to not turn out right.

Velvette

Velvette can do some light cooking, but nothing too extravagant. She’s got more important things to do, such as keeping Vox and Valentino on track. With a schedule as busy as hers, I don’t think she would cook often, preferring either Vox’s cooking or takeout. Oh but that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t take a picture and post it, because it’s Velvette, of course she does. Oh! But She’s probably been on Vox’s show as some sort of celeb guest type deal, the dish they made definitely stuck with her, so she might make it from time to time.

Zestial

Considering how long Zestial has been around, I would be more surprised if he couldn’t cook. You can’t convince me that after a while he at one point went through hobbies like a revolving door. Cooking absolutely would have been one of them. This man would absolutely try making the craziest things. He’d be up to date on all of the cooking fads, know recipes and cooking methods from several time periods and cultures. With him, there’s no telling what he might cook up next.

Carmilla

While I don’t think that she would really set aside time to cook often, she’s pretty skilled in the kitchen. Carmilla would likely have a couple of nights out of the month set aside to cook a meal with/for her and the girls, a tradition that carried on from their life before hell. She’d even take the opportunity to try new things while cooking.

Rosie

Oh, Rosie can absolutely cook, it’s canon that its a hobby of hers. She’s very well versed in a multitude of cooking methods, and while she may not entirely like a whole lot of new-age gadgets in the kitchen, she can’t really deny the fact that they can be quite useful. I’m willing to bet that she would have an Instapot (they’re great I have two and one of them has an air fryer attachment)

Adam

Adam would never openly admit it, but he knows how to cook. He was the first man, he would have had to learn eventually, even if it was something as simple as preparing meats. That being said, he can grill. I’d be willing to bet that he’d host a little barbeque after the annual exterminations for the exorcists, maybe even enter into grilling competitions.

Lute

Lute’s honestly a bit of a wildcard when it comes to cooking. She might have been able to cook while she had been alive, but nowadays not so much. It had been a long time since she actively made anything, so she’d be pretty rusty. But other than the basics, I don’t really see her being able to be too creative in terms of cooking either. She’d honestly probably stick to what she knows and wouldn’t stray too far away from that.

Emily

I don’t necessarily think that seraphim would really need to eat, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t or don’t. In Emily’s case, I would imagine it as a scenario where she wanted to do something to get closer to humanity. They were her charge after all, or rather their state of happiness. But all humans eat and many find joy in doing so and even in the act of cooking, so she absolutely would be thrilled to learn! She’s getting better at it by the day.

Sera

Sera had likely done the same as Emily when she was a young angel, though I don’t see her sticking with it. I definitely think that she taught Emily to start her on her little culinary journey. She can cook, she just… doesn’t. I’d even go as far as to say it’s been centuries since she’s actually cooked a meal of any kind. That being said, if she were to jump into the kitchen nowadays, she probably wouldn’t have a very easy time finding her way around.

Lucifer

Lucifer is a man of many talents. He can absolutely cook, possibly even Michelin level, he just chooses not to. He likely just considers it a novelty of sorts, considering he has the power to simply poof food right in front of him. Honestly, it’s pretty helpful whenever he’s depressed and doesn’t feel like making anything. But, when it comes to his family and friends, he’s more than happy to whip something up.

Lilith

Another one who would likely consider cooking to be a novelty. Considering how she’s the second most powerful being in hell, and fiercely independent with more important things to worry about. Lilith wouldn’t concern herself with cooking unless it was with her family, and even then it likely didn’t happen that often after Charlie grew up.

Bonus:

Alastor Cat

Would wind up burning what ever building its in down. Was it intentional? Was it an accident? The world may never know

[livelaughloveluffy]

just the two of us - black leg sanji

a/n: (this totally isn't my comfort bedtime dream scenario at all......idk what you're talking about...) just a little sanji x reader fic!!! sorry, no proofreading here, if you see anything, no you didn't 😭💀

a/n: also spoilers for book one of the mistborn trilogy, the book, im talking about in the fic was book two (since im currently reading it at the moment)

summary: you and sanji have the sunny to yourselves while everyone explores the island you stopped at!

nothing but fluff here 💗

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

its not often you have the sunny all to yourself, and quite frankly its a time you cherish. everyone had been getting a bit of cabin fever on your long voyage, and decided to take a pit stop at the closest island.

nami and robin have been dying for some more pieces for their wardrobe. luffy, whose always overzealous for some exploration needed no convincing to jump off the ship the second it docked, practically begged zoro for some company in his shenanigans, brooke left tragically stuck with them to make sure the two of them didn't get lost or start a fight. chopper wanted to look for a particular medical book. and usopp and franky wanted to gather materials for all their inventions. sanji always enjoyed looking at local cuisines to find new ingredients and also stock up on things he's almost out of.

which left you, the only one willing to stand guard on the sunny. not that you minded, a quite ship was the perfect time to relax on the deck, stretched out on a lounge chair, book in hand, enjoying the warm sun, sea breeze, and the sounds of the waves as you read.

•♡•

you weren't sure how much time had passed, since you had gotten so absorbed in the story. but it wasn't until you heard some faint footsteps behind you that you practically jumped out of your skin, slamming your book closed and turning to see who had stepped foot on the sunny.

"sanji! oh thank god... its just you. you scared the shit out of me!!" you yelled at him. the blonde cook looks at you with an adorable smile and replies "sorry, mon amour! i didn't mean to frighten you. i finished early with all the grocery shopping and figured i would head back here to put them away. must be a really good book you're reading, i tried calling your name so i didn't scare you but i guess you didn't hear me."

"really? i didn't hear you at all.." your cheeks suddenly heating up, a bit embarrassed he had caught you off guard.

"you're fine, mellorine!! i'm going to get these to the kitchen now!" he said, with a slight chuckle, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"oh, yeah!! of course! go do your thing! i'll be here!"

•♡•

you go back to your book, finding the page you stopped at by the grace of god herself, but this time making a conscious effort to pay a bit more attention to your surroundings. the sound of pattering footsteps again sound behind you, seemingly coming closer to you.

you turn around to sanji, with a delicious looking fruity drink in hand. he breaks the silence first by saying "mon amour, may i offer you like this pineapple strawberry lemonade? as a peace offering for scaring you." with a slight blush growing on his cheeks, you instantly felt a little weak, how could you say no to him?

"you're lucky that strawberry lemonade is my favorite, and that the drink looks absolutely divine" you replied, a clear empty threat given the blush on your face as well. he smiled and happily obliged handing the drink over to you. "anything else i can get you? maybe a snack?" he offers.

you pause for a second. "....i wouldn't mind some company. if you have the time for it."

sanji, who definitely wasn't expecting that response choked a bit on the his cigarette smoke, taking a small moment to collect himself he answers "i have the time... i wouldn't want to interrupt your book though. what's it about anyways, it must be super interesting to hold your attention like that."

the sudden reminder of your book, which had totally slipped your mind since sanji returned came rushing back to you "oh! it's super interesting actually!! basically, this girl was able to take down this tyrant ruling over her city, but is now left with the fallout of a government without a leader. her love interest the most logical choice to take the throne, she's more of a fighter than a leader, is now faced with lords trying to siege their land and...." sanji's quiet chuckle stopping your info dump, making you a bit embarrassed and self conscious for getting carried away.

but for some reason the way his sky-blue eyes glowed when he looked at you made you blurt out the following "i can read it to you, if you want..."

with a wide smile, he sat down next to you and said "i would love that"

•♡•

the lounge chair was a bit small for the both of you to sit on it, forcing you a bit closer than you had anticipated, which was a problem.... sort of..

unlike nami and robin, you didn't really find sanji off-putting, annoying, or creepy. you actually found him to be quite charming.

with his fluffy golden blonde hair and the way it rested against his forehead covering his right eye, his slim but muscular build, those ocean blue eyes you could drown in, was really just the beginning of the list of all the things you loved about black leg sanji. thats not even mentioning his passion and kind heart.

so the problem was, on this too small for two people lounge chair, that you're hanging on the edge of to avoid physical contact with a guy you've definitely been pining some feelings for, but were too anxious to actually be that close to him.

the lack of thought about the practicality of your suggestion made you want to crawl into a hole and never come out of it.

sanji, being the gentleman he is, was doing his damn best to not touch you, despite the space of the chair actively fighting against him. "are you comfortable, mellorine?" he asks, not looking too comfortable himself.

are you really going to run from this opportunity to cuddle up to sanji?

"um... yeah.. i'm-" but before you could get out the word comfortable, the wind had shifted and the sudden chilling breeze made you practically jump into sanji's lap for warmth burying your face into his chest.

it took .2 seconds to register what had just happened and .5 seconds to decide to just roll with. "i am now" you reply, pulling yourself a little bit closer to him as you can finally begin reading your book aloud to sanji.

•♡•

for a moment, you believe you had died and went to heaven. the warmth and closeness of sanji, his arms had wrapped around your body in attempts to shield you from the cold, had you practically enveloped and dissolving into him. he smelled like sandalwood, cigarette smoke, and rosemary, definitely an odd combination but one that suited him so well and surprisingly complimented each other.

whenever you had the chance to catch his eye at the end of a chapter, or whenever he asked a clarifying question to better understand the plot, you couldn't help but swoon over his genuine interest in you and your hobby.

chapter after chapter flew by and it wasn't until you heard a familiar voice that you stopped dead in your tracks, "ah!! you'll never guess i found the cutest-" nami had begun to call out to you until she spotted a certain someone's blonde hair precariously close to you. "um... what are you two doing?"

"oh! i was talking to sanji about my book, and he seemed really interested in it so i offered to read it to him, then it got super chilly and um..." you frantically explained, nami's raised her eyebrow at you both, mainly because she didn't remember you mentioning you had a thing for sanji but also slightly suspicious of the cook's intentions. however, the rapidly appearing bright blush flushing your cheeks quelled those suspicions. "okay, um... carry on then.. sorry to interrupt.. i- i'll show you the top later" she said, obviously awkward especially since she felt like she killed the vibe for you both.

as nami walked away, you could see usopp beginning to board the sunny again. sanji had seen this as well and suddenly called out "wait, nami, what time is it?"

"its about 4:30"

at her response, sanji started slowly untangling himself from you and getting ready to stand up "oh putain, i totally lost track of time, i need to start prepping for dinner. i can totally see how you can get lost in a story like that, im kinda bummed we couldn't finish it.... i was really starting to get into it" he said, relighting his cigarette, since he put it out earlier not wanting to smoke so close to you.

"maybe we can do it again..." you quietly offered.

"i'd enjoy that a lot, mon amour" he replied with a smile, as he turned away to head back to the kitchen.

and how you'll long for the next time it'll be just the two of you...

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

a/n: in my universe, of course god is a woman 😌 who else deserves such devout worship? 😌😌😌

a/n: i also stand by the headcannon that when sanji swears, its in french so thats what that is

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!

[mothwingwritings]

BTD/TPOF Valentine's Gifts To You~<3

Look I know Valentine’s was days ago but it’s one of my favorite holidays and I have no chill, so you all have to deal with the residual now. (*-`ω´- )人

THAT BEING SAID- here's a little 'what kinds of gifts/experiences the Boyfriend To Death/The Price Of Flesh crew would lavish you with on Valentine's day' imagine, let’s gooo!!! I hope you all enjoy!

18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

Warnings: Abuse, implied past kidnapping, reader getting hurt, torture, noncon, dubcon, (please forgive the pun but) horrible people taking a stab at an ounce of ‘affection’ and mostly just making things more dreadful for you.

I hope you all enjoy! ˘³˘

✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

Ren🦊- Will actually get you a sweet gift, something that he put time and thought into. Chocolates, a stuffed animal, a cute outfit, a figure of your favorite game/anime character that you have been eying, maybe even all of the above if he has the budget (honestly probably all of the above even if he doesn’t have the budget). He’ll present it really cutely too, like rose petal’s littering the ground leading you to the room where all the gifts are neatly displayed, giving a little ‘tah-dah!’ as soon as you discover them. He gets really excited watching you open them, explaining his reasoning behind each and every item he purchased/made you.

“All the chocolates in store looked boring, so I decided to make you some! I added your favorite ingredients, so I hope you like them!”

“This stuffed fox was too cute to leave behind and, well… I was hoping maybe it would sort of remind you of me? Anyway, I couldn’t leave the store without him! He belongs snuggled in your arms, just like I do!”

Just be mindful that in return he’s probably gonna put on a ‘cute romance anime’ of his choosing to end the night and that ‘cute romance anime’ is 100% just going to be hentai. From there, one thing will lead to another and he’ll make sure he gets a nice Valentine’s gift too. :) Oh, and if you don't like any of the gifts... It's best just to keep it to yourself. He'd hate to have to ruin the nice time you are having on this great holiday because you are being ungrateful.

➽───────────────❥

Lawrence🪴- Flowers is a no brainer, but he doesn’t want to give you something that’s too cliché or that you’ll just throw in a vase to watch slowly die. After mulling it over he decides to give you something with a little more meaning-a plant from his collection that he planted and grew himself. He would most likely pick something like an aglaonema (its valentine colored, right?) or some kind of succulent because they are easier to take care of. He’s a little worried that you are gonna find such a gift weird or see it as a hassle, that no matter how little maintenance the plant takes you’ll just let it end up dying regardless. But he supposes if anything this will be a good test of your bond-will you cherish and nurture the gift he gives you, or will you discard it and let it wither? Don’t make the wrong choice here, it would break his heart. (And your life honestly depends on it.)

➽───────────────❥

Strade🔪- You were dreading what kind of ‘present’ this man would concoct for you on Valentine’s day, but to your complete surprise he actually prepares something shockingly thoughtful for you. He’s set up a nice little homemade dinner for the two of you in the living room, complete with mood lighting (you hoped he didn’t have any surprise uses for the candles that burned around you), nice dishes and silverware (a rare luxury, considering how he usually makes you eat your food) and some wild flowers he had picked from out in the yard (did they have thorns? Were you gonna find that out the hard way?). The dinner itself is one of your favorite meals, and while it was maybe a tad bit overcooked and plated sloppily, it still tasted incredibly good. The catch? Well, I mean you have to have some kind of entertainment while you eat, right? Good thing Strade has a plethora of ‘home videos’ on deck to enjoy with you while you have your lovely little feast. Maybe watching them will spark something between you two, it’s certainly going to put him in the mood to reenact them with you. It’s Valentine’s Day afterall, why not have a little fun? <3

➽───────────────❥

Celia👩‍💼- It really just depends on her mood or what is happening the day of. You may end up getting  something nice, a little reward from her for being such a good and obedient pet.  She’ll gift you something thoughtful and sweet, like a nice piece of jewelry, expensive chocolate, or finely aged wine that costs more than you make in an entire month. She’ll be relaxed and pleased as she watches you enjoy her gift, taking satisfaction in how easy it was for her to delight you. On the other hand, if she is in a horrible mood or (god forbid) was forced to spend the holiday with her husband, the only thing you are going to be receiving is the brunt of her frustrations. If he bought her chocolates she’d force you to eat them all in one go, prying your mouth open to shove them in herself if you refuse to do it on your own, cramming them in until you nearly choke. If he bought her flowers she’d flog you with the bouquet, rose thorns tearing into your flesh until you were left in a pile of petals and your own blood, body littered with lacerations and angry red welts. Whatever half assed gift she was given or horrible date she was put through, has now become your problem as she uses you as an outlet for her resentment. And for the final celebratory Valentine’s act, she’d use you however she saw fit to get off (because she sure as hell isn’t getting any pleasure anywhere else tonight). Mine as well make the most of her time with her little sweetheart before she’s forced to go back and face whatever is waiting for her back home. You understand, right honey?

➽───────────────❥

Derek🦂- Honestly he forgets it’s Valentine’s Day, but it really doesn’t matter. He wasn’t going to go out of his way to get you anything or do anything for you anyway. If anything, he’d buy something for himself that he can either use on you or force you into for his own personal amusement. Some kind of constricting, demeaning latex gimp suit, or maybe a new whip he can assault you with. The more it hurts or humiliates you the better, because nothing brings him more pleasure than watching you suffer and squirm. Regardless of if he remembers the holiday or not, he’ll probably just spend the day mocking, assaulting, and/or torturing you anyway-once he recognizes the date, he may even go a little harder than usual as a treat to himself.  What are you gonna do, cry because your ‘Valentine’ is being mean to you? Hearing you beg, curse, moan, and scream in agony over all that he’s putting you through only makes it better, sweetheart. Like music to his ears! Even though it’s far from your intention, you are the best Valentine he’s ever had and though he won’t admit it, he’s thankful to you for that. Then again, maybe the holiday is just making him feel particularly sappy… Has he ever told you how pretty your tear stained face looks when you are choking on his dick, struggling to breathe as he forces himself down your throat? He’ll have to take a picture to show you next time.

➽───────────────❥

Mason🌲- He’s not very well versed with the ‘typical’ things people want or do for Valentine’s Day, and quite honestly, he finds it all rather obnoxious. To him it’s just some big show, a way for corporations to profit off people’s affections and sex drives to get them to spend money on cheap tokens of affection. Flower bouquets? They’ll just die. Stuffed animals? There’s no point to them. Jewelry? Useless baubles. No, the TRUE way to show your love for someone is through an EXPERIENCE. And what better experience is there then the thrill of nature? Maybe that makes him seem like a one trick pony- he did first meet you by purchasing you for his hunt, after all. But things were different now, you have proven yourself to him, proven that you have the know-how to survive out in the wilds. Now that you mastered it, you can truly enjoy it. He can tell you still didn’t really trust him (and honestly he isn’t sure you ever truly will) but he has faith you’ll eventually come around to this new way of life with him. He loves taking you out hunting and camping, the excitement he feels stalking his prey, the sense of purpose and connection he experiences living off of nature’s bounty, he’s found its much more enjoyable with you by his side. He hopes you feel it too- the buzz coursing through the air as he finally corners his quarry, how rousing it is when you land the final blow and get to drag your prize back home. He makes you watch as he skins and cleans them, finding importance in the act. You need to witness him doing his craft, learn from him, and really understand that you’re relying on him for your survival. Afterall it’s just the two of you out here now, it’s better to get used to it sooner rather than later. Come on, it’s time you took part in helping him prepare his slaughter. After you are done he’ll use the meat to cook you something nice, or prepare you some jerky so you’ll have something to snack on. This lifestyle is his ongoing gift to you, darlin’. Happy Valentine’s Day. ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ

[paddockletters]

just us | pedri gonzalez

paring: pedri gonzalez x reader summary: after a long training session, Pedri returns home to find you in his oversized sweater, baking a pie. request: yes/ thank you so muchhhh!

As I stirred the ingredients for the apple pie, the kitchen filled with the comforting scent of cinnamon and vanilla. It was one of my favorite things to do—baking while wearing Pedri's oversized sweater. It wrapped around me like a warm hug, reminding me of him even when he was away at training.

The door creaked open, and I looked up just in time to see Pedri step inside, his hair slightly damp from the shower. The weariness from his training session melted away as he inhaled deeply, his eyes lighting up with delight.

“¡Hola, amor!” I called out, unable to contain my smile.

“Hey, love!” he replied, returning my grin as he walked closer. “What’s that amazing smell? Are you baking something?”

“Of course! I just finished making your favorite—apple pie” I said, glancing over my shoulder at the counter where the pie sat cooling.

He walked up to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on top of my head.

“You’re incredible, you know that? I could smell it as soon as I walked in” he murmured, the warmth of his body radiating against mine.

I leaned back into him, a playful smile creeping onto my face. “Well, I just want to make you happy” I said softly.

“Trust me, you make me happy every single day” he replied, his voice low and sincere. “Especially now that I’m home with you.”

I turned in his embrace to face him fully, my heart fluttering at the way his dark eyes sparkled.

“Well, I hope the pie lives up to your expectations.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will. You could never disappoint me” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

After a moment of lingering in each other’s gaze, I revealed the freshly baked pie on the counter. The golden crust was crimped perfectly, with steam rising from the delicious filling.

“Ready to dig in?” I asked, my excitement bubbling over.

“Absolutely!” he replied, grabbing two forks from the drawer and plopping them onto the table.

We settled down, and I served him a generous slice of pie. The first bite made his eyes widen with delight.

“¡Esto es increíble!” he exclaimed, grinning as he savored the flavors. “How do you make it so perfect every time?”

“It’s all in the secret ingredient—amor!” I shrugged playfully.

“Then it must be overflowing with love” he teased, stealing another bite. “I might just have to keep you around forever.”

My heart skipped at his words.

“Well, I think I’d like that” I replied, my voice soft.

After we finished our slices, Pedri leaned back in his chair, looking thoroughly satisfied.

“This was the best welcome home I could ask for. Nothing beats coming home to my favorite person and my favorite pie.”

I beamed at him, feeling my heart swell.

“I’m glad you liked it. I’ll make it for you every time you come home if that means I get to see that smile.”

He stood up, walking around the table to pull me into a warm embrace.

“You’re too good to me” he whispered against my hair, and I melted into him.

“Just wait until I start baking more often” I said, my voice muffled against his shoulder.

“I can’t wait,” he replied, pulling back to look at me, his expression serious but playful. “But I have to warn you, I’ll probably eat everything you make.”

“Bring it on! I’ll bake as much as I need to keep up with your appetite” I laughed, poking him gently in the side.

As we stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, I realized how precious these moments were. The world outside could be chaotic, but here, in our little cocoon of happiness, everything felt perfect.

“Now, about those dishes…” I began, eyeing the pile in the sink.

“I’ll take care of it, but only if you promise to keep baking.” Pedri groaned but couldn’t hide his grin.

“¡Trato hecho!” I said, a wide smile on my face as I kissed him on the cheek before heading to the sink.

As we washed the dishes together, laughter filled the kitchen, and the sweet aroma of pie lingered in the air.

When I finished washing the last of the dishes, I turned off the tap and wiped my hands on a towel, only to find Pedri leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed, watching me with that familiar smirk.

“¿Qué estás mirando?” I asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Just admiring my incredible baker” he replied, a teasing glint in his eye. “You look adorable in my sweater, you know.”

I felt my cheeks warm at his compliment. “Well, I couldn’t help but steal it. It’s so comfy!”

“Steal it? You do know it’s yours now, right?” he said, stepping closer. “You wear it better than I ever did.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, González” I laughed, rolling my eyes dramatically.

“Good, because I’m aiming for a lifetime supply of pie” he grinned, winking at me.

“Very clever! I suppose I could be persuaded” I said, leaning against the counter beside him, our shoulders brushing.

The atmosphere shifted slightly as we shared a comfortable silence, the kind that only came from being completely at ease with one another. I glanced at him, catching him in a moment of contemplation.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching mine. “I just feel really lucky, you know? With everything going on—training, matches, and all that. Coming home to you makes everything feel... right.”

I smiled, my heart swelling.

“I feel the same way. We make a good team, don’t we?”

“Absolutely” he replied, his voice warm and sincere. “And I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything.”

Suddenly, he reached out and pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around me. I melted into his embrace, resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

I could feel the warmth radiating from him as he moved to check on the pie, still cooling on the counter.

“How about we grab a slice for dessert later while watching a movie?” he suggested, looking over his shoulder at me.

“Sounds like a plan! I’d love that” I replied, feeling a giddy rush of excitement.

As we settled into the cozy living room later, the slice of pie resting on our plates, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for these small moments.

The movie played softly in the background, but our focus was on each other.

“You know, I love how we can just be ourselves together” I said, taking a bite of pie, the sweetness dancing on my tongue.

“Same here. No pretenses, just us” he replied, reaching for my hand and intertwining our fingers.

[hellishjoel]

off to the races

6.3k / dbf!joel x f!reader

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

series summary: You and your parents rent a lakeside cabin, Joel and Sarah Miller are your neighbors. You’re all grown up, and you’ll do anything to prove to Joel you’re a woman now. 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, neighbor!joel, age gap (reader is in their early 20’s while Joel is in his 40’s), alcohol consumption, slight daddy issues lol, cursing, use of pet names, dominant!joel, maybe a lil brat tamer!joel, oral sex (m receiving), a lil praise kink, a lil degradation kink, facial, etc. you know ;)

A/N: needed to get cool slutty daddy out of my system. He’s just a Lana coded man!! I plan on turning this into a series, I hope it get's some love! let me know what you think by sending me an ask!

Your desperate eyes met his, trying to gauge what he thought. You hated how you looked like you wanted him so bad. He was your neighbor, your friend’s dad, but you wanted him to be something for you too.  “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doin-”  His words made your chest go tight and your eyes filled with pure horror. What have you done?! “But you need to be the one to walk away, because I don’t think I can.”

Summers in Danbury were what you looked forward to all year long when you were younger. You would love the long drive to the lakeside cabin, swimming in the dazzling blue water all day, and catching fireflies at night before ending it with roasting s'mores over the campfire. 

Now, all Danbury reminded you of were your parents stripping your feeling of independence as soon as you stepped in their embrace and the lack of cell service. 

It wasn’t all that bad, though. Who were you to complain about an all-expense paid vacation on the water? Your parents were fine, you just graduated from university, everything was just.. good. It almost made you a little bored, thinking about the impending summer. 

The warm sun’s kiss on your skin was a welcomed greeting after spending the past 9 months away at school out of state, your eyes twinkling below your sunglasses as you stepped out of the car. It was good to be back in Texas.

“Look, there she is!” Your dad cooed as he was eager to point out the sign that sat beside the entrance of the cabin that read ‘Life is Better at the Cabin’. Cheesy. It wasn’t your choice of decor since it was just a rental property, but still. You also despised the ‘The Secret Ingredient is Always Love’ sign in the kitchen. 

You plopped your bags down at the end of your bed, the one just down the hall from your parents, quick to plug in your phone charger though it made little difference with your lack of a strong signal. 

You turned your head to the window, seeing an old, beaten pickup truck turn onto gravel, a small smile peaking on your lips. 

“Hey, look who it is!” Your dad cheered eagerly from the living room, appearing to also be gazing out the window at the sight coming down the road and pulling into the house next to yours. 

The truck in question belonged to Joel Miller and his daughter, Sarah. Sarah had been your close friend each and every summer since you were little. You two were attached at the hip once your family started vacationing here, despite her being a fair five years younger. You two got along nonetheless. 

You stepped outside to greet them, as your mother and father were already out doing, your face lighting up as Sarah made a b-line to your embrace. “Oh my god! Look at you!” She praised, her eyes lighting up at your appearance. 

You two didn’t get the chance to spend the past few summers together due to business with school or internships on your part, so her surprise in seeing you a few years grown up was warranted. 

“Look at me? Look at you!” You said through punched lungs as she hugged you so tight you were losing your breath. 

If you thought Sarah’s tight hug was bad, you weren’t prepared to see what was waiting on the other side of the pickup truck. 

Your lips parted at the sight of Joel Miller. He was sort of�� handsome. Was that wrong to think that? I mean, he was so much older than you, someone’s dad, Sarah’s dad. You tried not to let your eyes linger for too long but his voice pitched into the conversation and you had been caught. 

“Hey, Skids.” Ugh. That dreaded nickname you had yet to wear off. “Haven’t seen you these past few summers. Happy to be done with school?” Joel’s southern drawl was a shock to your system after being up in the Midwest for school. 

He was tall and rugged, so unkempt. His hair was tousled everywhere and his beard was growing with salt and pepper stippling through the landscape of his jawline. He looked hot, the faint glisten and stain of sweat marking the collar of his shirt and at the sides of his biceps. 

You blinked a few times before a graceful smile fluttered on your lips.

“Hi, Mr. Miller.” You gently cooed. What? If he could call you by that horrid nickname he had given you when you were barely ten, you could call him by his surname. Your eyes caught his own shift, his jaw twitching at his name being called like that. It was just his name after all, right? 

“Joel.” He corrected with a raised eyebrow, your eyes finally dragging themselves away from his handsome character as they turned to your parents, who were obsessing over Sarah. She was about to go into her senior year of high school, so of course, they had all of the basic questions to ask her. Are you taking any advanced classes? Are you still on the swim team? Do you know where you want to go to college?

You tried to look interested, but you could still feel Joel’s gravitating stare in your direction. 

You were just imagining things, right? He was looking one foot over, to Sarah and your family. Except he wasn’t. You know because you snuck a casual glance over to him, and he was still on you. His gaze alone made a shiver travel up your spine. 

While Sarah and your parents were nestled in their own world of conversation, you take a few subtle steps away and join him by his truck. It still felt warm, the engine relaxing after a good drive in the Texas heat. 

“You need a new truck. She looks like she’s on her deathbed.” You point out, the one corner of his mouth tugging up as he kept his eye on Sarah and your folks with his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. 

“She’s just fine.” He retorts nonchalantly. You hated that about him. You could never figure out what he was thinking, unpredictable but not exactly chaotic. 

“She?” You asked with raised eyebrows. “I always knew you had a special woman in your life. Didn’t know she was so old, though.” You egged him on, your favorite pastime in the summers; Grinding the gears of an old man who had a bigger attitude than you most days. 

“You still have quite the mouth on you. Glad to see that hasn’t changed.” Joel said sarcastically as he pushed himself off the front of the truck with his hip, his head nodding off to the side in a silent way of telling you to follow him. You watched as he pulled down the tailgate, rust screeching until it stopped with a generous thump. 

“Supposed to be Sarah helping me with this, but since she’s busy being Miss Danbury, you can help me.” He said as he pointed to some firewood and other bigger pieces of wood in varying sizes. 

“What do you plan on doing with all this wood anyway? I think the Amazon is looking for it.” You huffed but climbed up into the back of the truck bed without him asking you to. His protective hand instinctively guided your hip for stability, and you felt a rush of air pump through your lungs. “Thanks.” You murmur before you start reaching for stacks you could handle. 

“Sarah wanted to throw y'all a bonfire with it being your first day back for the summer or what have you.” Before you could stop yourself, you were already cooing at him as you jumped down from the tailgate, watching as Joel gave a tight face of annoyance. Don’t do that, you’re gonna get yourself hurt. 

It took Joel all of two seconds to grab two of the larger cut pieces, throwing each of them onto his shoulders. You couldn’t help but stare at his biceps that cradled the wood, the tan skin and muscles popping out of the dark green t-shirt he wore. Focus, focus, focus, focus, focusfocusfocus. 

“And the bigger pieces? What are those for?” You asked out of sheer curiosity now once he threw them down in the back of his lawn, the sight of your parents and Sarah long gone. 

He shrugged and shook his head, his hands on his hips as a layer of sweat started to build up around his hairline. “Just carvin’ projects. The rest can be used for scrap lumber around the lake properties.” His head finally turned to look at you, his eyes raking you up and down for a moment before nodding to your lake house rental. “Doin’ property maintenance over the summer on the houses ‘round here.”

“So if we need maintenance, we call you now?” You asked with a dubious face, to which he nodded. 

This man never stopped. It made sense, you supposed. You reflected on the summers in the past, knowing Joel to manage his own contracting business and picking up odd jobs around town. You remember one summer, he redid the flooring of an old bakery in town and then built custom shelves for the loaves of bread and bagels. Another summer, he repaved people’s driveways with blacktop. He was a laborer, a blue-collar man through and through. 

“That’s right, Skids.” The nickname made you scowl at him again, but you wouldn’t mind seeing Joel Miller laid under your kitchen sink or repairing the window in your bedroom so it could finally let in some fresh air. Frankly, you just wouldn’t mind seeing Joel Miller. 

After Joel reclaimed his daughter from your parents with a snarky yet subtle, Thanks for all your help, kiddo to Sarah, he said goodbye to you and your family as everyone parted ways back to their own homes. 

-

You were tired from the drive, but you didn’t lack attendance to the bonfire Sarah was putting together specifically for you in a welcome back to Danbury! sort of celebration. She invited the other nearby neighbors, so by the time you finally joined, it was packed with people sitting around the fire. People who lived on the lake loved a good party, anything with beer to keep them occupied. 

It was a lot of talking and bottles clinking, marshmallows on sticks, and a crackling fire blazing at the center of everyone. You weren’t one for beer but Sarah insisted on feeding you bottle after bottle. 

She liked sharing secrets with you, away from her dad. She considered you someone she could tell anything to. And you felt the same way. So not more than half an hour later, you two were giggling and sitting on the tailgate of Joel’s old pickup truck when you saw him start to saunter over.  You saw him coming first, snatching Sarah’s bottle out of her hand and taking a sharp inhale as you hid away your own. Sarah’s secret, right? 

“Dad,” she playfully whined when he came over to bust their little party. 

He was silent for a moment before he looked at the dwindling flames. “Fire’s gettin’ low.” He pointed out, looking between the two of you.

His face was lit up in a mix of gold hue from the fire and silver from the moon. His face had this intensity, a bucked-out jawline, cheekbone, and nose. It was like he was carved from stone. 

Sarah was silent, not wanting to leave behind her friends at the bonfire to shuffle over more wood. You softly nodded as you took a swig of her beer bottle in your hand before setting it down once you hopped off the truck bed. 

“I can help.” You offered. Joel looked down at you hesitantly, sneaking a glance to where your parents sat around the growing circle of people.

“Yeah.. yeah, ‘lright.” Joel said as the two of you walked off to the dividing line on his property, the wood you had dropped carelessly earlier in the day now in a neat stack. You certainly weren’t drunk, but slamming Sarah’s beer along with the other ones she ushered you before was now messing with your head, the edges of your vision a little fuzzy, especially in the dark since the glow of the bonfire was at such a distance. 

Before you knew it, you were stacking the wood into your arms, too much maybe. Joel called out your name in a warning tone. 

“No, I got it! See?” You tried to reason with a cocky smile as he shook his head. 

“You don’t like to listen.” He gruffly said as he started picking up the smaller pieces as they fell out of your arms. 

You couldn’t help the playful scoff that left your lips, still insistent on stacking more in your arms, going as far as tucking some in your elbows but all they did was drop at your feet once you went to reach for more. 

“Stop bein’ so damn difficult.” He piped up again as he snagged your wrist, halting your movements. 

“Yeah? I thought you liked difficult women.” Your words were fast like a whip, your eyes challenging his own as the two of you shared unnecessarily long eye contact. 

“Drop-- the wood. Stop bein’ a-” 

“A what?” You challenged. The distance between you two suddenly felt like it was becoming air-tight, his eyes narrowing on yours as his features hardened. He didn’t look mad, lord knows you’d never want to actually make Joel Miller mad. He just looked-- provoked. 

“A brat.” He finally bit, your teeth clenching at the name. The shock of it all made your arms finally burst open like a dam breaching with water, all of them falling to your feet as you let out an involuntary squeal. God, you did not want him to hear that noise leave you like that. 

You finally tugged away your wrist from his hand, your eyes leaving his daggered gaze to examine your palm that had a decent size splinter plunged into the center of it. 

“Shit,” You swore, feeling whatever heat you had left in your body pooling to your stringing finger. 

You heard Joel let out a debated sigh before he took you by your wrist, much more gentle this time, and tried to bring it up closer to his eyes to examine it. 

“Can’t see for shit out here.” He grumbled. You couldn’t see it either but you could feel right where it spread searing pain through the rest of your hand. 

“I got some tweezers in my workshop, I’ll get it out.” Joel offered as he started walking a few paces but you let out an involuntary whimper at the sound of him taking it out. 

“You don’t want that to get infected, do you?” He asked with a true voice of reason, to which you let out a sigh of agreement and followed him to his workshop.

You had only been inside Joel’s workshop a handful of times. You remember once your dad dragged you over so he could talk to Joel about his truck, and you had to wait there and wait there until they finished gabbing. Another time was when you explored it on your own, your eyes fascinated by the little world he surrounded himself in. It wasn’t all wood like you’d expect it to be. He had old guns mounted on the wall, ladders hung up in the rafters, and dusty old fishing plaques that made you disgusted at the sight. It housed his tools, the same ones he had been using for years. He knew where they were by heart, not even looking when he reached for something. Everything had its place, down to the tweezers he immediately found in an old little toolbox. 

“Here,” he said as he pointed to an old metal stool as tall as your waist. You sat down on the cold metal, a little hiss of discomfort leaving you as he sighed. “Always somethin’.” Joel shook his head and offered you a spare dusty blanket, shaking your head. 

“Just-- fix my hand. Please.” You said as you displayed your palm to him, now seeing it in the light for the first time. Okay.. it didn’t actually look as bad as it felt. Joel actually smiled as he looked at the tiny sliver shoved into the skin. 

“..Might have to amputate it.” He said with a half-serious tone, as joking as Joel could sound. But there was a little glint in his eye, one of satisfaction from his own joke.  

“Joel Miller has a sense of humor? I’m surprised. And pleasantly delighted.” You teased as he huffed and shook his head, the smile that graced his lips already came and gone. Sort of. He just looked down at your hand so you couldn’t directly see it anymore. 

It took you until now to see that he changed out of his dark green shirt from this afternoon and into an old 80’s rock band shirt with a worn dark navy flannel over it. He must have showered after laboring in the Texas heat. The thought made your stomach churn in excitement. 

You shivered at how cold you felt all of a sudden, no longer by the warm fire and on this damn metal stool. You shifted uncomfortably on it, cursing yourself for wearing jean shorts. 

Joel let out an exasperated sigh as he stood up straighter and shoved off his flannel, your eyes softening at the sight. 

“You want me to take tweezers to your hand but you keep... shiftin’ around. Stand up.” He directed, and this time you didn’t debate with him. You hopped off the metal stool and he laid down the flannel. It was a nice gesture and you were grateful. You hoped the goosebumps were from the temperature, not how close he was. 

Joel pulled up another metal stool so he could steady himself, reeling himself in as close as he could and holding your palm open in his as his eyes squinted a little bit. 

You felt frozen in place, your lips parting as you slowly looked down to one of his knees that parted between your own legs. Fuck. You weren’t sure if it was the little buzz of beer still in your system but something drove you to have enough courage to gently lay your hand just above his kneecap. 

His eyes flicked up to yours, trying to read what was behind your thought process right now. He looked so confident, you feared you looked all shifty. 

You could feel the worn denim of his jeans under your palm but underneath, he was warm. He was as hot as a furnace as your body craved it. 

“The sliver.” You pointed back out, your voice smaller since you two were in such close proximity. You watched his chest heave as he took a deep breath, grumbling something under his breath before he focused back to his initial task. 

You pursed your lips as you both watched and felt the tweezers line up to the red and irritated skin, his movements precise and patient until you watched him clench the tool closed. 

You let out an involuntary breath of both relief and anticipation, just wanting it out already. 

“Hold on, just gotta make sure I..” Joel’s voice trailed off as he slowly pulled the tiny sliver from your palm, an uncomfortable whine leaving the back of your throat. 

His thigh twitched under your palm at the sound, not even realizing your hand had sunk higher up his jean-clad thigh. 

“Got it.” He finally said, swiping the tip of the tweezer on the table to display the nasty little piece of wood that had caused you all this grief. You let out a breath through your nostrils and nodded. 

“Thank God, no amputation.” You joked, to which he awarded you a small smile. 

“I’ll call the surgeon and tell ‘em to turn around. We’re good here.” Joel said as he gently released your wrist. You watched his features carefully, seeing his lips part as he glanced down to his leg that your hand still held for balance. 

“What’er you doin’?” He finally asked, his voice dropping an octave at the question. Shit. 

Don’t read this wrong, or this will be the most awkward interaction you and Joel have had to date. This is worse than when he saw you fall out of the inner tube while boating, worse than when some kid tripped you at the town barbeque, worse than when you fell off Sarah’s scooter so hard that he gave you the nickname Skids. 

“Woah, Skids! Better slow down!” God, that was so many years ago. His chuckle still echoed in your ears.

Now you were older, you were a woman. You had long legs and glowing skin, and a smile that knocked guy’s out of the fuckin’ park! But he was older too, older than you, younger than your dad but god, not by much. You were so close to him, you could inhale the distant smell of the bonfire, the one he probably made instead of Sarah. He also smelled like an old spice deodorant and fucking cigarettes. 

He was stingy, and greasy, and hot, and Joel. 

Your years of anticipation thinking about him like this was over. 

You bit down on your lower lip, your mind was foggy with the rushing in your heart,  feeling your ears pound and your palm still seared. He was a head taller than you while you sat together, and before you could stop yourself, you were leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his pulse. 

Your lips lingered around his neck for a moment, the sensitive skin of your mouth feeling beard stubble and tasting distant cologne. Your breath fanned over the skin, clammy but sweet with his sweat. 

He didn’t stop you, his eyes merely watching you carefully. 

“What’er you doin’?” He asked again, but this time, his words sounded more-- goading. Do it, I know you won’t. You’re chicken shit. If you know what you want, do it. 

Your heart raced as you nearly leaped off the stool, closing the distance between you two as you stood between his legs. Your hand moved higher on his thigh, so close that you were nearly touching the leather of his belt. Your mouth returned to the sweet spot of his pulse while your injured hand reached up to the opposite side of his neck to gently hold him there. 

“Joel,” you whispered his name breathlessly, asking him for more, feeling his head drop down beside yours. You feared you embarrassed yourself, he wasn’t reciprocating, he wasn’t--

The thoughts brewing in your head bubbled down to a boil as his firm arm wrapped itself low around your waist, keeping you to his front as he pulled down to look at you with a stern look on his face.. You were so fucked. 

Your desperate eyes met his, trying to gauge what he thought. You hated how you looked like you wanted him so bad. He was your neighbor, your friend’s dad, but you wanted him to be something for you too. 

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doin-” 

His words made your chest go tight and your eyes filled with pure horror. What have you done?!

“But you need to be the one to walk away, because I don’t think I can.”

His words surprised you. He didn’t think he could walk away from you right now? Holy shit. 

Your heart was pumping so hard under his watchful gaze, seeing his eyes look from yours to your parted lips. But he didn’t kiss you, you don’t think you would let him. It felt too intimate. You just didn’t want another boring summer in Danbury and you were determined to have a fling. 

Who knew it would be with Joel Miller. But you wanted him. 

Your brave hands took him by the chest of his shirt, your mouth moving to his jawline as you balanced the tightrope of kissing and nibbling on the skin before your hands moved south to find his belt buckle. 

His legs naturally parted for you, catching a brief smirk on his lips as you took control of the situation. 

“Dirty girl goin’ right for my fuckin’ cock.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, a desperate nod leaving you while your cheek involuntarily rubbed against the stubble of his beard. You didn’t know he talked like that.

You initiated more space for yourself, nudging the inside of his thighs with your own legs as you had his back up against his drafting table with you no longer on his side but standing in front of him. 

Your quick fingers desperately undid his belt, feeling the old leather under your fingers. You didn’t have the balls to look at him and frankly, you were afraid you would lose your nerve if you did. 

His hands were encouraging for your nervous system, firm palms planted into your hips and even going as far as to squeeze the flesh that sat under your jean shorts. His body warmed you up, his eyes admiring you as you plucked open the button on his jeans. 

You pushed your tongue against your cheek in concentration, all of a sudden desperate at the thought of having him in your mouth. You dragged down the zipper, the relaxed denim exposing the black briefs he wore underneath that hugged his tan hips. 

You slowly sunk to your knees before him, as if you were worshiping a God. Maybe you were, it was Joel Miller, after all.

“This what you were learnin’ off at school?” Joel belittled, your head doing a few quick nods as a flush stained your cheeks. God. Something about Joel calling you a slut had you in a tailspin. You couldn’t wait anymore. 

Your fingers delicately felt over the impressive growth that his briefs held down, biting down on your bottom lip as you let your pointer finger make the outline of his girth. 

He let out an audible grunt at the action, his jaw jutted out, and his eyes filled with lust. “Lemme see that pretty mouth.” He practically purred, your chest rising and falling in anticipation as you slowly opened your mouth for him. You felt the intrusion of his thumb, a guttural moan leaving your throat as your big eyes stayed on his. He pinched at the inside of your cheek for a moment, your eyes twinging closed and opening back up with twinkling tears on the brim of flowing. 

“Good girl, keep that mouth open for me.” He encouraged as he pushed two fingers past your lips, testing you. And you were more than willing to accept his little challenge. His fingers pushed on the back of your tongue, feeling your lips graze all the way to his knuckle as you worked on breathing through the feeling of his fingers shoved down your throat. 

You were determined for him not to get the best of you, to prove how you had some experience under your belt. Your tongue willingly swirled around his digits, humming softly as you suckled. Now it was his turn to look like he was ready to fold. You felt him swell in your hand, the hand still stroking over his erection in his briefs. 

He ripped back his fingers, leaving them with a pop to your lips. Holy shit. You took a few deep breaths and swallowed, blinking back the tears that his fingers provoked from going so far down. 

“Damn, baby, look so pretty down on your knees for me. Don’t make me wait ‘ny longer.” Joel’s breaths were heavy, his southern drawl exaggerated in his lust-filled state. 

A proud smirk laced on your lips, his eyes on you as he watched you pry down the material of his briefs, watching as he lightly lifted his hips off the stool and using the drafting table behind him as leverage to let his jeans and boxers rest comfortably around the top of his thighs. What you had been craving slapped eagerly into the palm of your uninjured hand, an unexpected little moan leaving you. 

You studied his cock with anticipation, the glowing pinkish-red tip glistening with pre-cum from all the anticipation. He was generous in size, he would be the biggest you had ever taken. He was just… grown. You let out a satisfied little mmm, smirking up at him as your fist wrapped delicately around the base as you pumped over just the bottom half of him. 

Your hand came up to push some hair behind your ear but Joel was quick to handle that for you, stroking the stray pieces back behind your ear and then planting his palm right on the top side of your head. He tried to guide you closer but you just continued to smirk at him, a desperate grunt leaving the back of his throat. 

“Don’t play with me, kitten.” The nickname had you fawning, much better than the other nickname he had given you in the past. Maybe this new one would replace the old, the girl he dismissed before now a woman whose attention he craved. 

You guided his tip to gently tap at your flattened tongue, using his base to guide him until you generously wrapped your mouth around his leaking head. He let out a satisfied hiss which made you smirk, knowing you were the one making him dance on the line between pain and pleasure. 

You let out an involuntary mewl as the fist he had made in the back of your hair forced you further down his rigid member, feeling wet tears threatening to spill over your waterline as his tip nudged against the back of your throat. He said not to play with him and you disobeyed. 

Your palms flattened to the front of his thighs as you pushed yourself off of him, gasping for air as you swallowed the mixture of your spit and his leakage that clogged your throat. 

“So fuckin’ pretty chokin’ on me like that, such a pretty face.” He sneered, referring to your teary eyes. But the compliment made you blush and the choking and sobbing was all of a sudden worth it for the praise. 

After that, you craved to take all of him just like he wanted. Your head worked in subtle bobs, taking inch by inch of him at a time. Sometimes his hand in your hair guided you, allowing you to take him with confidence as he let out disgusting groans and low moans. 

Your gluck, gluck, glucks filled the shed, hot pants leaving your mouth around him but not willing to let your head up. Trails of your saliva attached themselves from his balls to your lips, the sight being a trophy for your hard earned deep throating. He was already so close, you couldn’t bear not to taste the prize you had worked so hard for. 

All of a sudden, Joel stood up from his seat at the drafting table and you couldn’t help but show a look of disappointment. You thought he was done, going to leave you like a mess on the floor with bruises on your knees from the cold concrete and your slobbery mouth feeling his loss. 

Your wet eyelashes fluttered as he returned to fist the hair at the top of your head and angled your face upward, watching as his other hand yanked on his member. The sight made your jaw drop. 

“Where do you want me to finish?” His words were pained, stretched thin as he tried to hold out for an answer from you. But you wanted him to finish, you wanted to watch his face contort from the wake of his orgasm that you helped create. 

“Mmm,” you hummed out as you purposefully prolonged his finish, watching as his chest puffed and his skin grew rosy from the heat flooding his body. Your cockiness was punished by a tighter grip in your hair, yanking your head closer to his shaft to force a real answer out of you. Your scalp stung but only a smile was on your face. 

“You wanna cum on my face, Mr. Miller?” You asked in the most innocent tone you could muster, your mouth parting at the sight of him. He looked heavenly. The glow from his shed lights made him appear as if he had an angelic glow. But you knew he was hellish, nothing close to an angel. 

Joel let out a scoffy little grunt at your question, a wicked smile gracing his lips as his hooded eyes slowly fell completely closed as the shock of his orgasm coursed through his body. 

You eagerly watched and you hated how hungry you knew you looked right now. You licked your lips, eager for his taste, eager to make the Joel Miller cum. You were desperate. 

His cock began twitching in his hand, watching as he methodically yanked out his own orgasm. His eyes lazily glanced between his shaft and to your large eyes, slowly smirking at the sight of you holding out for him. 

“Let me see that tongue, darlin’.” His words were breathy, just on the edge of no return. You obeyed, dropping your jaw and flashing him your tongue as you fluttered your eyelashes. At the sight alone, he finished himself off with eager grunts and short moans, you swore one of them was your name. 

His hot cum landed on your face, your eyes closing in satisfaction with a cocky smile. Most landed on your tongue, a few piping hot white strands splattered like paint on your cheeks and nose. All the air in your lungs left you as he tapped his pulsing tip eagerly against your tongue, watching with his jaw slack as he let the rest pool onto your tongue and down your throat. 

You swallowed knowing he was watching, his hand in your hair relaxing. He tasted better than you expected, a new craving. 

Instead of fisting your strands, he started stroking them away from your messy face, praising you as he tucked himself back into his pants.

Both no longer in the hot fantasy you swore you imagined once, you tried to collect yourselves. You shakily stood up from the ground, your knees cold from the concrete. You wipe off any dust or dirt they may have collected, sneaking glances at Joel as he fastened his belt around his waist once more and popping the button of his jeans back into place. 

You glanced around for a tissue, your back to him as you cleaned up your face. Oh my god, you were wiping Joel Miller’s cum off your fucking face.  As the two of you pieced yourselves back together, he reached for his discarded flannel that he had given you still resting on the metal chair you previously abandoned before settling between his legs. 

“Said you were cold. Take it.” He said as he fisted some of the material and looked at you expectantly. You sighed before gently taking the material and wrapping yourself in its warmth. 

As he placed a bandaid on your palm to cover your futile wound, you admired the flannel in all of its unknown beauty. 

It was one of his older ones, you sort of felt bad because you could only assume it was one of his favorites. It adorned a few minor holes and rips, some of which were badly stitched back together in an attempt to salvage it for another few years. Despite its appearance, you melted into it because it smelled like him. It smelled smoky like his cigarettes or maybe that was just the residual smoke from the bonfire. As you walked outside, you could smell it clearer.

Sandalwood with a hint of cinnamon, you wondered what cologne he used. 

Your head was lost in thought as you began to wander back towards the bonfire, a sharp clearing of his throat bringing you back to your senses. You whipped around, seeing as he pointed to the stray wood you had dropped from earlier.

“Oh-” you said bashfully as you returned to the pile with him, both of you knelt down picking up stray pieces. Once you started piling the wood in your arms again, he let out a short chuckle from deep inside him as he held your wrist from stacking more. 

“That’s enough for now, just go.” You liked seeing his face lit up like that, knowing you were the cause of it being even better. 

“Okay, Mr. Miller.” You cooed quietly, his face hardening at the name of adoration you had given him. 

“Okay, Skids. I’ll be seein’ you.” He said with a tight nod of his head, his eyes directing you back to the fire. You set down the firewood by the rocks surrounding it as a barrier, clearing your throat as you returned to the tailgate. You could still taste his cum on your tongue. 

No one seemed to notice your trip taking unexpectedly longer than necessary. Your parents were both swaying their heads and laughing, empty bottles by the legs of their folding lawn chairs to explain their obvious lack of awareness. 

Sarah had joined up with other friends in your absence, but you didn’t mind. 

You finally had a moment to reflect on what had just taken place in Joel’s shed. You let your vacation house neighbor cum in your mouth. Your older, stoic, stubborn ass of a neighbor. 

As if on cue, Joel returned to the side of his truck with his body leaning against the tailgate. His jean-clad hip lightly grazed your thigh, glancing over to see him offering you a beer. 

“Since you’re all grown up now.” He said with a little spark behind his eyes. You nodded and took the opened beer with a growing smile. 

“Cheers.” He offered as he held out his bottle to clink with yours. 

“Cheers to another summer in Danbury.” You tell him. 

He cocked his eyebrow and glanced over to you one more time before he focused his eyes on the growing fire. 

“This one ain’t quite like the rest.” It almost sounded like a promise from him. You hoped it was. Because you were wearing his flannel and you were on his knees for him tonight, you wondered what experience of Joel could offer you this summer. 

---

read part 2 - dark paradise!

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[pookietv]

apologies, apologies | arthurtv

hello! i am back (sorry it's been so long pookies) so pls accept my humble offering now i am back !!!

cw: smut, slightly toxic, overstim

small pieces of anger had boiled in your blood as you had woke up this morning, a slight whirlwind following you around as you ignored your phone, and meandered around your house.

you and arthur had plans last night. he was going to come round, you had bought all the stuff to make him dinner, the ingredients for his favourite left sat lonely in your fridge, the caramel-chocolate cookies you had baked now boxed up in tupperware, the sight of your kitchen a slightly depressing one.

was it the biggest deal in the world? no, of course not. he forgot.

but it pissed you off. no call, no text, no check up on you at all. you hadn't bothered to remind him, you had figured if the three times you confirmed the night with him weren't enough, then he didn't care that much anyways, right?

you had barely seen him recently - you knew he was busy, and with his line of work, his form of working often meant being around his friends a lot.

but it still bothered you that all of his time had become devoted to seeing his friends - last night was supposed to be the first time you had seen him in almost two weeks, between him having to travel for work and having busy schedules, you felt forgotten.

so your plan of last night, a sweet night in with your boyfriend, with a film and nice food and attention you had been desperately craving from him, had went down the drain, and the bitterness had set in.

you decided cleaning your house was the task to distract you, and your bedroom was the place to begin. the odd piece of clothes scattered across the floor, mugs on the bedside table and misplaced knick-knacks began to return to their rightful areas.

it wasn't until you heard padding, decisive footsteps across your hallway that your ears pricked, and you scrunched your face up curiously.

as you turned to your bedroom door, about to face whoever had intruded into your house, your bedroom door swung wider open, and you were met with a slightly harsh faced arthur.

"why aren't you answering my calls?" he said, his voice slightly stern, and steadied, "had to come all the way to your apartment just to make sure you were alive."

"oh, so now you can make time to come see that i'm alive?" you huffed slightly, and you saw his eyes narrow in confusion.

"what are you on about?" he murmured dismissively.

you felt your eyes roll slightly, "last night? you were supposed to come round?"

realisation sunk into his face slightly, and whilst you hoped some form of guilt may follow that, a slight huff came instead, "oh, don't be so clingy, it's not a big deal." he said, decisively.

"clingy? i've missed you, arthur, you were away for a whole week filming and then you come back, barely see me and just keep ignoring me?" you said, eyes slightly doe-ish and the feeling of annoyance still irritating you like a bug.

"oh, come on, i'm here now, aren't I?" he murmured, voice lowered slightly, honeyed as he stepped slightly closer to you, finger gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, the soft touch of his finger sweeping across your skin spreading a warmth through your cheeks.

you tried so desperately to hold onto your anger, and not let yourself disarm so quickly, but god it was so easy to forgive him when his dark brown wide eyes looked down at you like some sort of charming spell, lulling you in, fingers still gently twisting the lock of hair he had just tidied away behind your ear.

"arthur, s'not that simple, i'm still annoyed, you barely even-"

"shh, i know, i know, you're still angry. let me make it up, hm?" he murmured, so close his breath spread like a fan down your neck, gently leaning in and connecting his lips to your jawline, and any resolve you had melted away, and you figured you could always curse yourself for it later.

his finger lent use to tilt your jaw up slightly, as you felt his stubble brush against the skin of your neck, as his lips setted against the crook of it now, pressing gentle kisses in a trail against you, achingly close to your collarbones as you allowed your hands to creep up and find placement on the back of his neck, fingers gently playing with the shortened section at the back.

his other hand went to the hem of your shirt, teasingly running his thumb along where it settled against your lower stomach, each slight touch making you embarrassingly needy, a slight whine leaving your lips as you heard a softened chuckle from him.

your anger had been such a fragile thing, so easily displaced by even the slightest of intoxicating touch from him.

"arthur," you murmured, cheeks flush red and each breath hitched, still on the border between being filled with fury at him, and throwing that all away in a desperate attempt to fill the hole that had been so neglected by arthur being away for two weeks.

he smirked a little down at you, lifting his head from the crook of your neck, "i know, lovie. knew you wouldn't be angry for long, hm?" he said, voice dripping with a saccharine tone, his own eyes slightly darkened with lust.

it was all you could do not to pathetically whine as he gently pushed you to the bed, you still sat up against your headboard, leaning down to you and pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, thumbs gently pushing up your shirt as your widened, pleading eyes only stoked the fire in him.

"you look so pretty when you're deciding whether you're cross with me or need me," he teased, pulling the shirt off your head with ease, a slight cocky smirk gracing his face, before his lips went to the front of your chest, one hand resting against your hip as his groaned against your skin, his teeth lightly grazing against your perked nipple.

you had easily become putty to him, malleable to his charm as your hand gently grasped at his upper arm, squeezing slightly as i let out a soft sigh at the touch of his facial hair against you, not too rough to hurt but instead just a warm blossom of slight burn against your chest.

he pushed his thumbs into the waistband of the soft pajama shorts you were wearing, edging down both them and the lacy panties you wore underneath them, slow and teasingly, making a slight impatient huff of air leave you as you looked at arthur pleadingly.

his head dipped lower, his body held up between your legs as one hand rested against your lower stomach, his eyes glazed over as he took in the sight of you, bared in front of him, arousal practically drooling from you as he grinned to himself. he pressed a soft kiss to your hipbone, then the lightest kiss against your clit, only eliciting more whines to fall from you.

"so wet already, hm?" he said, voice thick with control as all you could muster out was a pleading, "please, arthur."

the pad of his thumb gently edged against your sensitive spot, drawing agonisingly slow circles against you, as he looked up at you with a smirk, "what, sweetheart, you want me?" he said, voice full of mock surprise.

"need you," you murmured back, feeling helpless to each move arthur made - all you could do was pray he would take pity on you and end the slow, torturous teasing.

"i'll give you whatever you need if you accept my apology," he grinned, his thumb drawing small circles drawing to a stop, his face agonisingly close to your soaked cunt, each breath he drew and released making you squirm a little more.

"see? look how sorry i am, hm?" he mumbled out, between placing gentle kisses on the sensitive inside skin of your thighs, trailing upwards, reaching dangerously close to where you needed him, as he looked up at you with his big brown eyes that seemed to melt anyone.

"arthur," you babbled out, reduced to begging from even the simplest of touches against him, "please, i forgive you, need you so bad," you whined, watching his eyebrow raise for just a moment before he dipped his head back down, arms pushing your legs upwards slightly, to rest over his shoulders as his lips attached to you, tongue gently trailing from your entrance to your clit, making an embarrassingly loud moan fall from your lips.

the slight stubble that had lightly grazed your chest before was at much better use now, the rough burn a welcome addition as you felt your poor sensitive inner thighs begin to be rubbed raw, however it was too mindspinningly good to even care about tomorrows pain now.

his mouth gave a slight bit of suction, leaving the breath to be sucked from your lungs as his tongue rolled over your sensitive bud, your hips bucking with each movement in a pathetic attempt for more, which was only greeted by a muffled and cocky chuckle from arthur, one of his hands squeezing your thigh a slight bit tighter.

he was lapping against you like a man starved, any time your thighs twinged slightly closer together he was the first to push them apart, pushing his head closer to you, as if he could be any closer.

any inhibition or thoughts you had previously been able to have were practically incinerated, one hand of yours resting in arthurs hair, not tugging but just another feeble attempt at being as connected as physically possible as desperate whimpers fell from your lips like a prayer, arthurs muffled grunts only spurring you on as you pleaded gently.

fast figures of eight were painted against you as it was all you could concentrate on to try and keep your hips still - at least relatively so, but with every slight movement you bucked against his mouth, almost pathetically.

one of his hands went to your hipbone, gently pushing down as he looked up at you, eyes glossed and lidded, as you could feel your own head push back, your brain completely fogged and all responses had become increasingly needy whines, reaching closer to being considered completely dumb.

he couldn't help his eyes being etched onto every movement you made, each twist and contortion serving a reminder that he got to be the one to do this to you, a sick sense of gratification spread around his own body.

each breath had become a battle for a gulp of thick air, a familiar tightness gracing your stomach, and it was all you could do to grasp at the sheet beside you and screw your eyes shut, the all too familiar peak bounding closer as he feverishly lapped against you, the increased pace and newfound harshness pushing you over the edge, frenzied whines torn from your throat as your lower body practically went limp, euphoria dizzying your head as the familiar knot snapped, moans tumbling from you as your muscles relaxed against the mattress.

arthur on the other hand, had become completely buried in the bliss, groans leaving him as he lapped against you, leaving you to squirm and whine in overstimulation his hands only gripped at your thighs tighter, leaving you unable to move, just babbling whimpers falling from your lips, as he paused for a moment only to reassure, "come on, sweetheart, you can take a little more... been two whole weeks without the taste of you, need you for a little longer," he murmured before burying his head back between your legs without a moment for you to respond.

all you wanted was to desperately please him, as black spots clouded your vision and tears pricked your eyes whilst you fell into a complete oblivion, the orgasm-ecstasy mixed with the ache of your poor throbbing core was a pain that you had somewhat grown to love, whilst fighting the overwhelming urge to jerk your hips with every slight movement, tightly wound.

he only became more sloppy, the mix of spit and arousal coating the bottom half of his face, your fingers curling into his hair as a plea for release, your core only becoming more overstimulated by the second as he failed to slow down, your hips jerking desperately as a tug on his hair made him come to, and he looked at you with an apologetic grin as he pulled away.

"atta girl, did such a good job," he murmured out, proud smirk plastered on his face, his arm raising to quickly wipe his face as he lifted himself up, hand quickly moving to card through your hair in a sincere manner, a soft kiss pressed to your forehead, "knew you could take a little more, you always like the ache," he said, matter of factly. and you hated that he was right, the frenzied end of arousal always a desperate act to see how long you could go, how much you could really take, a game arthur so desperately loved playing.

you giggled a slight bit, breath still panting and face flushed red as you were basically rendered immobile, your limbs closer to jelly, "uh huh, just went a little too long," you said gently, tucked next to arthur in a slightly needy post-orgasm haze.

"just got too focused, could do that all day if you'd let me," he grinned a little cheekily, and you rolled your eyes playfully, allowing your bodyweight to rest against arthurs chest in a sobering state, "although, i may mess up more if that's the way i get to make it better,"

you gave him a slight stern look, and he laughed a little, holding a hand up in mock apology, "kidding, i'm kidding." he confirmed, "i just know how easy it is for you to forgive me when i'm between your legs, and i mean fuck, i'm not complaining."

"for the love of god, don't leave me alone for another two weeks," you joked back in return, and he nodded his head, a smirk still stuck there.

"how on earth could i leave you for another two weeks when you just reminded me how much you need me?"

"don't joke, i missed you," you said, in a coy voice, and he chuckled slightly in response.

"i know, lovie. i missed you too." he murmured gently, pressing another kiss to your hairline as your eyes shut momentarily in bliss, "love you, you know. i'm sorry i was shitty, i really do love you."