#that's why there's breakfast on the table every morning

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 14/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : SMAU, Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : angst, Lando is kind of a jerk in this (sorry)

CHAPTER 14 :

Serie Masterlist

Morning light spilled across the villa like honey, warm, golden, deceptive. It painted everything in the illusion of peace. But peace was a lie.

Ariana blinked awake slowly, lids heavy from dreams she couldn’t remember. She reached instinctively to her left, expecting the curve of his body, the lazy warmth of Lando’s arms wrapping around her waist like always. Her fingers met nothing but cold sheets and absence.

Her heart stuttered.

The blankets were undisturbed on his side. Not just cool, untouched.

He hadn’t slept there.

Her brows furrowed as she pushed herself up, heart already starting its slow climb toward unease. Maybe he’d wake up early. Maybe he couldn’t sleep.

No.

She felt it.

Like a fracture in the atmosphere. Something was wrong.

She slipped out of bed, wincing slightly as her healing ankle bore weight. Pulling one of his oversized hoodies around her, his scent still faintly lingering, she padded down the hallway in bare feet, her steps quiet, hesitant.

From the kitchen: laughter. Light and familiar. The others.

She followed it, hopeful, needing him. But as she turned the corner, everything shattered in slow motion.

There he was.

Lando.

Sitting at the table. Silent. Still.

Hunched over his coffee like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t speak. Didn’t see her.

She stepped into the room. Watched him carefully. Smiled, soft and uncertain.

He didn’t lift his gaze. Not when she sat across from him. Not when her foot brushed against his by accident.

Nothing.

Not a flicker.

Just ice.

Her throat tightened. She didn’t taste her breakfast. Didn’t hear the conversations around her. All she could feel was the void stretching between them, loud in its silence.

And then the little cracks started forming.

When she offered to grab them both coffee later, he didn’t look at her. Just muttered, “Don’t go out of your way for me.”

When she gently touched his arm in the hallway, trying to get him to stop and talk, he pulled away like her skin had burned him.

At lunch, she tried to make him laugh with some ridiculous inside joke from last week, one that used to light up his whole face.

He didn’t even smile. Just said flatly, “You should save that charm for your other ‘friends.’”

She blinked, stunned, heart stammering.

But when she asked him what that meant, he stood and walked off like she hadn’t spoken at all.

The silence between them stretched longer. Louder.

Every time she got close, he moved away.

When she reached for his hand under the table during a card game with the others, he pulled it back like her touch was poison.

When she asked if he was okay again later, quietly, he didn’t even pretend this time.

He just said, “Why wouldn’t I be? You’ve clearly got other people to worry about.”

She sat frozen, mouth slightly open, the weight of his words wrapping around her chest like a noose. The others hadn’t seemed to notice, but to her, it was deafening.

Everything felt wrong.

Twisted.

Unspoken.

Until finally, as the sun began to drop toward the sea and the others dispersed, poolside books and lazy lounging, Ariana followed him.

Her limbs trembled and her voice almost caught before it left her throat.

He stood in the living room, facing the windows, the sea beyond.

She approached like someone tiptoeing into a minefield.

“Hey…” she whispered.

No response.

“Lando?” she tried again, voice cracking with confusion. “Talk to me.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t breathe, it seemed.

“Did I… do something? Please, if I did, just tell me.”

He turned. Slowly. Like it took effort. Like looking at her cost him.

His eyes were cold. Detached.

Not familiar.

Unrecognizable.

“I’m fine,” he said. Flat. Mechanical.

Her heart sank. “No, you’re not.”

“I said I’m fine.”

The words sliced through her. No emotion, no warmth.

Her voice wavered. “Why are you being like this?”

A breath. A bitter scoff. “Maybe I just see things differently now.”

“What does that even mean?” she whispered.

He wouldn’t look at her. So she stepped in front of him, forcing herself into his line of sight.

“Lando, you’re scaring me,” she said, barely holding herself together. “What’s going on? What did I do, is it about the other night ? You were jealous, it's okay I understand."

His jaw ticked. His arms crossed tighter.

And then, like a match to gasoline, it all went up in flames.

“You lied to me,” he said.

The words felt like a slap.

“I… what? What are you talking about?”

He grabbed his phone, scrolled furiously, then shoved it into her hands.

Photos.

Dozens.

Her. Him. The other dancer. Laughing. Smiling. Too close. The night of the Opera. The one she brushed off. The one he asked about.

Her chest collapsed inward. “Where did you…?”

“Twitter,” he spat. “The whole damn world seems to know more about your past than I do.”

She looked up, confused, still trying to breathe. “Lando—” 

“Don’t lie to me now,” he barked. “Don’t give me some speech about how it was years ago. Don’t tell me he’s like a brother again. Because if that’s how you treat your friends...” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head, “...then maybe I should start worrying about the entire damn company.” 

“Lando—” 

“Seriously, Ariana. What do you do, huh?” he sneered, voice rising. “Go from one partner to the next? Flirt your way through rehearsals? Let them hold you, pretend it’s all just dancing?” 

Her mouth parted, stunned. 

“Is that what you say to all of them? To every guy who’s lifted you across the stage? Every one of your precious company ‘friends’ ?” His laugh was hollow. “Should I assume you’ve slept with all of them? Or just the ones who look like him?” 

Her hands curled into fists. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Don’t I?” 

His voice was venom now. 

“I asked you, Ariana. I asked you. I gave you the chance to be honest. You told me he was just a friend. That there was nothing. That it was professional.” 

“It is!” 

“Not according to half of the internet.” 

She stepped back, shaking her head slowly. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” 

His chest was heaving now. “Your boyfriend.” 

“No,” she said, voice deadly calm, “you don’t get to call yourself that if you think this low of me. If you think I’m some girl who just sleeps her way across the company. If you think I lie to you.” 

“I think,” he said, quieter now but just as sharp, “that I was wrong for trusting you.” 

She flinched.

“That’s not fair,” she whispered.

“You know what’s not fair?” His voice broke. “Letting me fall in love with someone who wasn’t honest with me. Letting me think I mattered, when you clearly didn’t think I deserved the truth.”

She took a shaky breath. “You do matter. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I was scared of this. Of exactly this. You twisting something meaningless into—”

He laughed, bitter and wounded. “Into what? Proof? That I was always just a temporary high ?"

Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. “You think so little of me ?"

“I think,” he said quietly, “that I don’t know you. Not really.”

Those words.

They gutted her.

Her lips trembled. Her heart shattered behind her ribs, piece by piece, slow and brutal.

She swallowed hard. “If you don’t know me… if you think that low of me… then maybe you never actually saw me at all.”

He said nothing.

Just stared.

So she nodded slowly. A breath. A whisper.

“Okay.”

Something broke in her gaze, quietly, painfully. 

Then… she stepped back. 

One step. Then another. 

She didn’t speak. Didn’t cry. Didn’t yell. 

She just turned. 

And walked away. 

Lando stood there, chest heaving, eyes burning. 

He told himself he didn’t care. 

That she deserved that. 

That she should’ve told him. 

That he had every right to be angry. 

To feel like the fool. 

To feel like he had opened every part of himself to her, only to be left wondering if he’d ever truly known her at all. 

But as her footsteps disappeared down the hall and the door closed behind her with a soft, final sound, the silence that followed didn’t feel like victory. 

It felt like loss. 

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita

Let me know if you wanted to be added to the taglist !

[ariesthetouchdeprivedgirl]

Behind Closed Doors

Pt. 2

Smoke x Black!OC

Here’s part two!!! I’ve been working on this all day, so I’m a little drained. Please excuse any typos, or too many repeated phrases. I would really appreciate any feedback, your girl is new to this not true to this, so anything will help! Anyways! I hope yall enjoy!!

The next morning Jane awoke to the smell of breakfast wafting through her apartment. She sat up in bed, blinking a few times, trying to clear her foggy, sleepy mind. Smoke’s side of the bed lacked warmth, the sheets cool and undisturbed.

Jane swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her feet making contact with the cold floor sent a small shiver up her spine as she grabbed her silk robe. The fabric glided over her shoulders while she slid her feet into some fuzzy slippers and opened the door.

Her feet padded against the floor as she made her way towards the kitchen. Her head empty until Smoke was in her view. She paused and watched him for a moment, admiring the way the sunlight working beautifully with the smooth brown skin of his back.

He stood over the stove, frying what she declared to be an egg. His movements were slow, deliberate; Smoke always took his time with everything he did. Everything was calculated and strategically thought out.

Disrupting Jane from her train of thought, Smoke finally spoke.

“Sit.” It was firm and low. He didn’t bother speaking, focused on the sizzling pan in front of him.

Jane complied without hesitation. Sliding into a chair at the table. She could feel the tension from his words, but she relished in his instructions. There was an ease in obeying his words, a comfort in the way he spoke, even when the weight of his tone dripped heavy with expectation.

His voice always gave her a sense of direction, grounding her in moments where everything felt unsteady.

She watched him finish cooking, the smooth flex of his muscles working harmoniously with his steady movements. Watching him, her thoughts to drift back to their tense conversation from last night. Smoke’s questioning still lingering in her mind.

She thought hard about why Smoke was making breakfast. Was it out of guilt? Or was it some way for him to ease her into finishing the discussion he tried to have yesterday.

The burner clicked off, snapping her back to the present. He turned around, dark eyes pooling with intensity and sat the plate in front of her with a firm thump.

“Eat.” He commanded with a soft but yielding tone, head motioning toward the plate.

Jane looked down at her food, a steamy fried egg, crispy bacon, and a piece of bread toasted lightly. The plate looked good, something she would’ve gladly enjoyed any other day. But she didn’t have much of an appetite at the moment. Her mind was too busy trying not to think about everything from last night.

Either way, she picks up a fork and began to eat. Always obeying any order from Smoke.

She picks at a piece the egg before taking her first bite chewing slowly. She was nervous, feeling Smoke watch her like a hawk. The food wasn’t bad, it was actually pretty good. But it didn’t settle in her stomach well. In fact, each bite sat heavy.

But that didn’t stop Jane, she continued to eat, avoiding looking up.

Smoke watched her. His eyes practically beaming into Jane made her want to shrink back into herself. She could feel the way his eyes lingered on her—judging, waiting. That same look that could strip her bare without a word. Reminding her of how deep his hold ran on her.

Jane wanted to say something, just to break the silence, but every time she glanced at him, she dropped her eyes back down to the plate.

She couldn’t take this, her nerves were too raw, and it was beginning to show in her fluttering hands. She set the fork down with a sharp clink nudging the plate away from her.

Smoke said nothing at first. He simply stared, an unwavering gaze. Waiting for her to speak, or crack.

Finally, when the weight of the world seemed to nearly crush her into the ground, he spoke.

“You feel like talking yet?” His voice was low and smooth.

Jane’s heart skipped. She knew their discussion from last night was bound to happen, she just didn’t expect it to be fresh off the wake up. Then again, it was Smoke. He wasn’t the type to wait around for answers.

Jane glanced at him, his stance relaxed and dominant. Leaning against the counter with crossed arms. He looked like a force of nature, watching her from above.

She cleared her throat, gathering herself before responding. “Can I get something to drink baby? My throat is dry.”

Smoke’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing as he walked to the fridge. Grabbing a carton of orange juice out and pouring Jane a small cup.

“Thank you.” She said softly, offering a small smile.

“Save it baby.” He replied dismissively. “Answer my question.”

Jane’s smile faded, her nerves fraying. She was tired the back and forth. The weight of this whole situation had been crushing her, and she was ready to get back to normal, to get back to loving her man.

“Um, well… Bernice called me, and said she saw you at the club.” Jane’s voice thick with hesitation.

Smoke had no response. Gaze never wavering as he waited for her to continue.

“With another woman.” The words stung her mouth as they left her lips. She was annoyed with herself for feeling hurt, for dripping with jealousy. She was his mistress, she had no right to feel this way.

Smoke face was unreadable. But Jane could see something in his eyes. Something dark and calculating.

“And you believed her?”

Jane’s eyebrows furrowed.

Jane stiffened, a flicker of anger sparking her eyes. “What? Why wouldn’t I believe her?” She shot back, voice tinged with offense. Bernice had always been there for her, always told her the truth.

She had been Jane’s first friend when she moved to Chicago, always looking out for her, protecting and guiding her. Bernice never lied to her, and she couldn’t imagine why she would start now.

Smoke said nothing, eyes holding hers, unblinking. His silence stretched long enough to make her question herself.

“You believe everything she tell you?” His voice quiet, but dangerous.

“Yes?” Her voice held less conviction than she intended, her stare sounding more like a question than anything.

“How you know she ain’t lying.”

Jane’s frown deepened. “Why would she lie?”

Smoke kept watching her.

“Bernice ain’t never lie to me before. Why would she start now?” Jane frustratedly continued.

“You tell me.”

“What?” Jane exclaimed, rolling her eyes in frustration.

“Why she worried bout what she think I’m doing”

“Ain’t nobody worried bout you Smoke.” Jane snapped. “She was just looking out for me”

“By running her mouth on what she thought she saw”

“She ain’t run her mouth. She was just letting me know what she saw.”

“For what? I ain’t yo business.”

Jane paused, her breath catching in her throat. Right. Smoke wasn’t her business. He wasn’t even her man.

Her fingers clenched around the edge of the table as his words sank in. She felt her chest tighten, and a lump form in her throat. She couldn’t believe Smoke would say that to her. As if what they had meant nothing.

With a frustrated scoff, Jane stood up, her chair scraping against the floor, a harsh sound that echoed through the apartment. She didn’t spare Smoke an another glance as she stormed to her bedroom. Slippers slapping angrily against the wooden floor with each step.

Deep down her heart was hammering. She didn’t want to keep arguing with him. Not when the possibility of losing him could happen at any moment. But he had pushed her too far this time.

Smoke smirked at her outburst, shaking his head as the door slammed behind her. The sound rattling through the walls. Smoke pushed off the counter, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he approached the door.

“Storming off like a lil ass girl ain’t gon end this conversation Jane.” His firm voice cut through the door.

Silence.

Inside the room, her pulse raced, anger surging through her veins. He wasn’t her business? Then what the hell was he? He sure as hell wasn’t no stranger off the street.

She yanked her closet door open, grabbing Smoke’s shirts and ripping them off their hangers with sharp, furious tugs.

He heard her chaos through the door, the sharp clatter of hangers and rustling fabrics. Smoke couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her theatrics.

He twisted the doorknob and stepped inside, only for a crumbled shirt to come flying at his head. He swiftly stepped out the way, avoiding the shirt as it smacked against the doorframe and fell to the floor.

“Cut that shit out Jane.” He growled, patience thinning.

Jane turned to him, breath coming in sharp shallow bursts, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“Fuck you Smoke.” Her voice trembled with fury. “Get your shit and get out.” She snatched another armful of clothes, chucking them in his direction without care.

He just stood there, letting her tire herself out.

“You not my business?” She snapped, a hanger clutched in her hand, trembling as she pointed it at him. “I guess fucking me through that mattress every night, in the apartment you put me in, don’t mean shit, right?” She flung the hanger at the wall beside him.

Smoke just stood there, watching her with those dark eyes, unblinking. He let her dig her own hole, knowing she’d come running back to him. Smoke never had to say anything, it wasn’t necessary. The control he had over her, the way he could make her so hot and then leave her to simmer down. He knew how to play her like no one else could.

There was something about his calm demeanor that made her blood boil. She turned to him again, chest heaving with shallow breaths. Her fists clinched so tight she could feel the blood draining from her fingers.

Heat licked up her spine, every nerve on edge. She didn’t know if she was angry with him, herself, or both.

“Go ahead, tear it all down if it makes you feel better.” He didn’t raise his voice, or let his temper slip. Smoke’s way too calculated for that. But his jaw tightened, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes for just a second.

Jane’s chest heaved, rage and heartbreak stirring inside her. She took shaky steps back, a shirt slipping from her grasp. Smoke followed, his hand catching her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“But you really gonna let her tell you what’s true?” he asked, voice rough, almost too quiet. “You trust her more than you trust me?”

“She’s never lied to me.” Jane shot back. “But you got every reason to lie. You do it enough to your wife.” Her voice trembled.

Smoke’s eyes narrowed, his pulse quickening.

“Think about what you sayin.” He murmured. “You think I’d slip up like that? Or you just believing her cause it fit the story you done wrote in your head.” His thumb brushed her jawline, a deliberate expression that felt comforting, yet cautionary.

Jane’s eyes were a mix of anger and uncertainty. She wanted to push him away, to break free from this hold he had on her. But she couldn’t, his warmth, his calloused thumb brushing her face.. shit she ain’t wanna move.

“I ain’t stupid Smoke. I know what this is.”

Smoke kissed her forehead, a gesture that almost felt comforting. “Then act like it.” He whispered. “Stop lettin other people put thoughts in your head.”

“You didn’t have to throw it in my face like that.” Her voice cracked.

“I ain’t throwin it in your face. But if you gon question me over some he-say she-say bullshit, I’m gon remind you where we stand”

A tear slipped down her cheek. Her head dropped, feeling like a child being scolded. “I just wanted you to tell me the truth.” She hated feeling like this.

“And I been trying to, you just too caught up in your feelings to hear me.” His firm grip on her chin, slipped to her cheek, wiping the tear away. “You understand?” He asked.

Jane nodded. This happened every damn time. He twisted things until she felt like she was the villain of the story. But maybe she had really overreacted this time, and she had to admit, the whole thing was immature.

She was losing her mind over something she didn’t even see for herself. It was a huge waste of time, and they only had a limited amount of time with each other anyway.

Jane swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper when she muttered “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know why she was apologizing, maybe because she realized she couldn’t hold the weight of her anger alone anymore. She wrapped herself around him, letting him absorb the words she couldn’t say.

Smoke smirked. “It’s okay baby, you know I can’t stay mad at you for long.”

Jane smiled, letting the tension disperse as she melted into his embrace. His voice, especially that tone he spoke to her in, it was all so familiar, so comfortable. She pressed a kiss to his lips, trying to burn the fire heating inside her.

Smoke met her kiss, hand slipping to her waist, fingers tightening as he pulled her closer. Their kiss deepened each second, his hand on her cheek controlling her movement. His dominance, usually sharp, felt a bit gentler now, just how she liked it. He had her wrapped around his finger, and they both knew it.

“All that fussin for nothin.” His lips barely left hers, the whisper a kiss itself. Before she could respond Smoke’s hands traveled quickly, lifting her off her feet. Jane’s laugh bubbled, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, fingers cradling his face.

“You cleanin this up when I’m done with you.” He muttered, his smirk almost predatory, but he held that rare softness in his eyes that she came to love. Everything was in his control again, like always.

He carefully assessed a situation, and handled it with ease. But deep down, Jane knew better. She knew he tricked her, once again. But she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She would never be able to resist Smoke.

If you made it this far THANK YOU for reading!! I would appreciate any comments and suggestions/feedback. ❤️❤️

taglist:

@marley1773 @remmickcherie @rolemodelshit @keiva1000 @christinabae @jackierose902109 @fruitypebblesstuff @solarssins @thickemadame @melodyofmbaku

[fanfictionsweetheart]

Spoiled

Pairing: Seth Rollins x Reader

Summary: (Name) was spoiled, there was no denying that. Seth spoiled her. He tended to show his love with his money. And she was very, very loved.

Trigger/Content Warning(s): smut, oral sex (male receiving), dirty talk, slight daddy kink, masturbation, squirting

Word Count: 2837

A/N: I read a Fic by @spiicii (I hope you don’t mind me tagging you) that made me love the idea of Seth spoiling his lover like this. I think there’s potential to this idea/plot I’ve set up in this Fic, might do more.

Waking up to the sun pouring into the large main bedroom was something (Name) would never be used to. Living in a deluxe penthouse apartment with her lover and boyfriend brought about so many new experiences. The first of which was living in a deluxe penthouse apartment.

She stretched, as she sat up. She’d woken up alone in bed this morning. Not the most unusual occurrence. Even when he was in town, Seth went to the gym first thing in the morning. He did his best to not disturb her when he would slip out of their shared bed before heading to work out for a couple hours in the private gym in their building.

(Name) rubbed her eyes before slipping out of bed herself. She grabbed her fluffy robe off of the bench at the end of the bed. She walked through the apartment to the chef’s kitchen. She stared in awe at everything once more. He’d just had it renovated for her. Running her fingers over the butcher block countertops she made her way to the refrigerator.

Seth wasn’t home now, but one look at the clock told her he would be home any minute. And after the gym he would take a shower. So she began to take things out of the fridge to make them both a hearty breakfast.

Seth walked into the place he had bought for his sweet (Name) to the smell of bacon frying. He grinned, she was far too predictable. But he liked that about her.

He had put this place in her name even though he had paid for it and nearly every new thing in it. She had chosen it after all. It had been an anniversary present when he knew that they were in this for the long haul. He insisted that money was no object in this case.

He wanted her to have a place to call home. He hated the idea of her renting a tiny place that didn’t match with how grand she was. He peeked into the kitchen as he headed towards the stairs to head up to take a shower after his usual workout routine.

(Name) had heard the door and Seth’s footsteps and smiled as she continued to work on their breakfast. Sautéing some mushrooms and onions to go into her omelet.

She liked this routine that they had when he wasn’t traveling.

She had just finished plating up their individual omelets when Seth made his way back down the stairs. He was dressed in some lounge pants, that probably cost more than her prom dress had, and a t-shirt. Even when he was relaxing at home he looked fashionable.

“Right on time,” she teased.

Seth chuckled and pressed a kiss to her temple as he joined her at the table in their little breakfast nook. Even though the kitchen had been renovated and the appliances updated, the style she had wanted was a more cozy look. Not streamlined. He liked that about her.

She hadn’t given up on who she was even with access to his money.

“You know some people would say you were crazy for not letting me hire a chef,” he teased.

“And why would I do that?” She asked him, smiling before taking a bite, adding after, “I like cooking and baking. It would have been a waste of money.”

He nodded, “And I like your cooking,” he added.

(Name) smiled at him, she looked at him with affection most of the time. He liked to spoil her with his money, but she felt most spoiled when he spent his time with her.

“What do you want to do today, sweetness?” He asked, using his favorite term of endearment for her.

“I’m not sure, honestly I’d like to stay in, I haven’t had you to myself in months,” (Name) said honestly.

He’d been working round the clock pretty much, traveling to a new place every week. (Name) usually traveled with him a few months out of the year. But due to a broken ankle she hadn’t been able to during their original schedule. She hated flying in a cast.

“Well, I’ve got a couple weeks while I heal from that muscle strain,” He winked about the injury that had been written into the show that was WWE for him so he could rest before his next big storyline was supposed to begin, “If my baby wants to just stay inside today we will.”

(Name) smiled at him before looking down shyly. Sometimes it was hard to remember a time before Seth Rollins came into her life. Before he decided she would be his everything and swept her off her feet. Spoiling her nearly rotten with designer bags, jewelry, clothes...supporting her hobbies and allowing her access to the kinds of things she could only dream of.

Taking her to restaurants that she only used to read about in magazines.

But more than that...loving her.

These elaborate gifts were his way of showing his affection.

Spending money on her made him happy.

It was crazy to (Name) who hadn’t had anyone want to treat her so well before. And it made her uncomfortable at first. He had to ease her into accepting the gifts he wanted to shower her with.

“I was thinking of starting to sell some of the jewelry I make,” She said after a moment of thought, it was her main hobby and she had so many pieces that she didn’t really wear but were still too good to break apart and reuse the beads, “Like online.”

“You could,” Seth said, he would always support her no matter what, “You want to pick and choose a few pieces later and start to figure out what you’d want the site to be called?”

“Maybe,” (Name) said, “Like I said...I’d like to spend most of today with you.”

“I can do that with you,” Seth chuckled, “You know I'm the most fashionable man in the WWE.”

“More stylish than most of the MET Gala in the past few years,” (Name) joked, “They should just get over themselves and invite you.”

“You know I would kill it,” Seth laughed.

(Name) giggled and nodded.

They finished their breakfast and Seth insisted on cleaning up so she could go get herself ready for the day. Even if they were staying in.

He pressed a kiss to her temple with a grin before she left the kitchen.

(Name) had to laugh to herself when she looked at the dresser full of her loungewear. T-shirts and comfortable pants. She grabbed her favorite leggings and an oversized shirt, perfect for a comfortable day at home. It was one of his merch shirts, of course. Maybe it was subconscious or maybe she just wanted to tease Seth.

Or maybe it was because she had every single shirt of his released.

She got dressed and headed back downstairs to find Seth in the living room, lounging on the couch, waiting for her. She made her way over and slipped into his lap rather than sitting beside him.

Seth grinned and wrapped an arm around her.

“Clingy today,” He teased.

“I missed you.” She told him simply, turning her head to press her lips to his, “It gets lonely around here when you’re gone.”

“Maybe I should get you a dog,” He joked.

But he was serious if she wanted a pet he would help her find the perfect one. He wanted her to be happy. And definitely not lonely when he had to work and she couldn’t come with him.

“Maybe,” She said, she would love to have a dog again.

At her last apartment she couldn’t have pets and she missed having a furry companion to keep her company.

Seth handed her the remote to pick a show or movie to watch to start their day. (Name) thought about it for a moment before deciding that since she had him pretty much all to herself for the next couple weeks it was the perfect time to binge one of her favorite shows with him.

She opened Hulu and typed in the first word of the series, ‘Sons…’, with a grin.

When the first episode started she settled into his hold with a smile she knew he would like the show if he gave it a real chance.

—

After a couple episodes (Name) got up to get them some snacks together to continue their lazy day together. She could think of a few other things they could be doing, but they didn’t allow her to stay in his arms the entire time.

She settled back on the couch with a bowl of popcorn for the pair of them while cuddling into his side.

These were the moments she felt the most spoiled. When he spent the entire day with her. Just doing typical couple things like binge watching a show together.

Their time together was more valuable than any gift he could give her.

—

The day rolled on while they lay together on the couch. Ordering dinner in and just enjoying each other’s company.

They turned her show off after dinner and (Name) headed upstairs for a shower. She had been shopping the day before and bought something new to wear just for Seth.

She cleaned herself up and was blow drying her hair when she heard her boyfriend enter the bedroom. She smiled to herself. She wanted to show him her gratitude for how much he spoiled her.

She set her hair drier down and pulled on a new sexy lingerie set that she had bought to wear for her man. Lacy and a sweet, soft pink color. Practically corruptible. His favorite way for her to look.

She fluffed her hair into a perfectly messy look and spritzed on her favorite perfume. Even topping off the look with some pink lipstick that suited the look and mascara...not waterproof...he liked to see the results when they were together.

After slipping the satiny robe she had bought in the matching color she opened the bathroom door to find Seth lounging on the bed, his shirt discarded. She had to stand there for a moment. His body was something special. The definition of his muscles even as he lay in bed was perfection.

He was so strong.

So powerful.

And she couldn’t help but shiver.

Seth looked up when he realized that she hadn’t come right to bed and the sight of her standing there like that, leaning against the doorframe, long legs leading up to a short hemmed robe. He could only imagine what she was wearing below the robe. A dark, practically lecherous, grin spread over his lips.

“Whatcha got under there for me, sweetness?” He purred, setting his phone aside.

She smiled coyly and undoes the loose bow that she had tied into the robe, “I might have bought something special for you to enjoy tonight, Daddy,” she cooed.

That had Seth’s entire attention now. He knew just what kind of mood she was in when she called him that. He sat up, the gleam of lust in his eyes practically predatory now. He licked his lips and let out a groan as she dropped the robe, revealing the sexy and sweet lingerie she had bought.

“What do you think, Daddy?” She purred.

“You look fucking delectable,” Seth growled and motioned her over, “Get over here and show Daddy just how much you missed him.”

(Name) obeyed eagerly. But she still did her best to keep that sexy sway to her hips as she did so. Wanting to tease and entice her man.

When she was standing in front of Seth on his side of their king sized bed his hands quickly found purchase on her hips. He looked up at her, eyes blown wide with lust.

“You’re a filthy fucking tease, you know that babygirl?” He growled.

“Only for you, Daddy,” (Name) murmured and rested her hands on his shoulders before dropping to her knees eagerly in front of him, “Let me be good for you tonight,” she breathed.

“You’re always so good for me,” he praised her gently and gently stroked her hair.

(Name) smiled at the praise and helped him out of his lounge pants and underwear before settling back between his knees, kissing his inner thigh submissively. He never made submitting like this feel like an obligation, she wanted to. She enjoyed it just as much as he did.

“Gonna open your mouth for me?” Seth asked with a wicked grin spread over his face.

“Yes Daddy,” (Name) chirped and let her mouth fall open, sticking her tongue out teasingly.

Seth rested his hand on top of her head, a subtle urge for her to begin. So she took some initiative and leaned in to teasingly lick along the underside of his cock. She moaned at the taste, she knew it was taboo, but she loved giving head. Especially to the man she was kneeling in front of right now.

She set her hands on his thighs as she continued to tease him. Her skilled tongue tracing over his cock like it was second nature.

She took the tip between her lips and slowly began to smooth them over the head, suckling just so to earn a shiver and pleased moan from her lover. Seth was very vocal in bed and she relished in that. She loved that she knew just how to get these reactions from him.

She began to take more of him into her mouth, sucking and teasing the sensitive flesh with her tongue. Seth flexed his fingers in her hair a bit, urging her on.

“Good girl,” He growled.

She took more of him inside and began to bob her head. Sucking him off just like he liked. Moaning around him. Her pussy wet with desire. She slipped one hand into her pretty, lace panties to begin teasing herself while sucking Seth’s dick.

He groaned at the sight, “Such a perfect slut for me, so good...you love sucking my dick don’t you baby?” He growled.

(Name) just moaned around him and kept bobbing her head back and forth. Taking more and more into her mouth until she had nearly all of his length in her mouth.

“Just a bit more, you can take it,” Seth encourages lewdly while grasping her hair, giving it a slight tug.

She whimpered and did as he said, forcing that last inch into her mouth, gagging slightly as usual. She could handle it, he was right. And she loved to handle it.

She held herself down on him for a moment before pulling back to begin bobbing her head again. Burying two of her fingers into her pussy while she did so.

She held her head down again once she caught her breath as best she could. Gagging and moaning around him.

She was fingering herself all while she was gagging on his cock.

She pulled off once more, sucking him more. This was probably the sloppiest head she’d given in a while and she loved it and could tell that Seth did as well. His groans were feral sounding and only served to turn her on more.

When she pressed herself back down once more Seth’s hand tightened in her hair to keep her there. “Look at me,” he ordered her in a slight snarl, he was close.

Her eyes flicked up to lock with his and he let out a low growl of a groan as he came hard down her throat. She moaned and swallowed every drop.

He let her pull off of him and lean back, so he could see her finger herself to completion. She may still have her panties on but he could hear and see how wet she was.

“Oh fuck...can I cum Daddy?” She whimpered.

“Cum for me, ruin those pretty panties I paid for,” he growled.

(Name) let out a whine as she came hard, a fish of liquid between her thighs was she soaked her panties just as he wanted her too.

She pulled her hand out of her panties and Seth grasped her wrist to bring her hand to his mouth so he could suck her sweetness off of her fingers. He never passed up the opportunity to taste her.

After he was satisfied he let her pull her fingers from his mouth. He urged her onto the bed and into his lap. One of his large hands cupped her cheek sweetly.

“You know that I love you right?” He asked, his voice soft.

He always asked that after even the lightest of intense moments. It was his way of assuring her that she was his equal. His love. His queen.

“I do, Seth, and I love you too,” She murmured and leaned in to press her lips to his.

He may spoil her with his money then fuck her like a toy...but he loved her. And she loved him.

[esotericverse]

Gibson Girl - Joel Miller x OC

Fic masterlist/summary here

Previous chapter

CW: DDDNE, Child abuse, eating disorders

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Chapter 2

The mid-morning sunshine glowed golden from the clear Nebraska sky, the warm rays beaming across Mary’s face as she lay sprawled across the porch swing of her parent’s home. Her back was propped against the armrest, the bite of the hard wood softened by a lacy pillow she brought out from the couch.

Her bare legs hung over the other armrest, swinging in tune to the country music drifting from a little radio that sat on the stool near the swing. She had bought it this summer, and only when her parents had both left for the day did she bring it out from under her bed.

Her nightgown rippled in the warm breeze, the lacy white fabric tickling her thighs. She took a bite of the peach she had taken from the fridge for breakfast. The sweet juice dripped down her forearm and she twisted it to catch the drop with her tongue.

Her legs swung over the armrest and her bare feet hit the porch planks as she stood up. It was a beautiful day, and she hated to retreat back inside. The birds were singing in harmony with Johnny Cash on the radio, and the air smelled like peaches and grass and the dwindling remnants of summer.

Alas, she reached for the radio, switching it off and grabbing it by the handle, turning to open the front door.

On the kitchen table she found a note in her mother’s elegant script that she must have missed on her initial trip out to the porch.

Mary,

I will have to stay late at work today, there is lots of extra planning to be done on account of the festival coming up. I left fifteen dollars for you to purchase your school supplies. No need for a backpack, you can use the one you already have. I expect you to go out and get them and be back before me and your father return. Take your bike. Don’t talk to strangers.

Mother

Sure enough, Mary found fifteen dollars stacked under where she had lifted the paper. She fisted them, leaving the note on the table.

Setting the mini radio on the table, she tossed her peach pit in the trash can and padded over to the fridge, swinging the red door open. The cold wafted around her, making her shiver in her thin nightgown.

She reached for the bottle of milk, leaving the door open as she pulled a glass down from the cabinet above the counter. She poured milk into the cup and returned the bottle to its shelf, slamming the door shut. She gathered her things and made her way up the stairs to her room.

Just as Mary suspected, her room had been throughly straightened by Margaret earlier in the morning. Mary had awoken with the sun and had retuned from her bath to find her floor clear, clothes folded neatly, and duffle bags returned where they usually sat unused in the hall closet.

Less than 24 hours and her space had already been violated. She knew it was stupid. It was just stuff, just a room. But it felt deeper than that. Every part of her was under constant violation at the hands of her parents. Her body, her things, her thoughts and emotions. She just wanted some space. Some peace. To be able to feel like she could breathe without fear of being slapped or insulted.

Thankfully, she knew her parents would be at the church late today, engulfed in fall festival planning. The fall festival was Wallow’s biggest event of the year. Her mother’s job as head of the town events committee kept her extra busy this time of year. The actual festival was over a month away in September, but the buzz of excitement tended to begin right after the Fourth of July.

That’s how the residents of Wallows lived, ambling from one exciting event to another, with nothing but mundaneness to fill the months in between. As silly as it was, the festivals gave the town a reminder of why life was worth living. The few-and-far-between highs of excitement were like life rafts, and the residents of Wallows clung to them.

With all of the extra time on Mary’s hands, she was planning a visit to the house. Only for a little bit, she couldn’t afford to stay away for long periods of time. It had been hard enough to explain her overnight absence the last time she had gone at the beginning of summer.

When she returned in the morning to her furious parents she had mumbled something about it getting too dark and her having to stop at Mrs. Grant’s on her way home from the library. Of course they didn’t believe her, and of course her father had beaten her, re-opening the wounds she had mended only the night before. But when they returned from inquiring Mrs. Grant about it, she had been greeted with reluctant apologies and a bottle of pain reliever. Mrs. Grant never brought it up.

Mary drained the last of her glass of milk and set it on the dresser, checking the clock nearby. The roman numerals indicated that it was just past ten in the morning. Perfect.

She rummaged through her newly organized drawers until she had settled on an acceptable outfit: a pair of overalls that cutoff at her mid-thigh, a white top that puffed at the sleeves, and a little pair of ruffled socks.

She slipped off her nightgown and replaced it with the blouse, slinging the overalls over top and fastening them. She stumbled a little as she pulled the socks over her feet. Peering into the mirror, she grabbed her crucifix off of the jewelry tray near to the clock. She strung it over her neck and slipped pearl studs into her ears, turning her head and ruffling her hair.

In the bathroom down the hall she smoothed a serum over her hair and sprayed perfume over herself, the sweet vanilla scent filling the air and clinging to her hair and clothes. She swiped mascara over her lashes and applied pink lip balm to her cracked lips. Finally satisfied, she turned back to her room to grab her bag.

Out in the sun, she dragged her bike from under the empty carport at the side of her house. For a yard and house so large, she always wondered why they didn’t have a garage. She slung her bag into the basket and pushed off, feet landing on the pedals.

Before she had stepped out and locked the door she had pulled a pair of brown Mary-Jane shoes over her socks. They had been a welcome-to-Kentucky present from her Nana and, being the creature of habit that she was, she wore them almost every day.

When she reached the Jackson-Hutton intersection she turned right this time, heading straight to town. As she rode along, friendly faces waved at her as they mowed their lawns and walked their dogs and smoked on their porches. She always smiled back, lifting a hand off her handlebars to wave back. The neighborhoods and homes facing the roads grew in number and density as she reached the next intersection.

On the corner of where Hutton Street intersected with Main Street sat the school complex. Wallows High stood largest in the center, while the middle and elementary buildings lay on each side. The three large buildings were connected by walkways and courtyards and advertised by a large wooden sign near the street. A small playground was fenced off by the elementary school. The complex was huge, and it backed up into the woods behind it, which had been partially cleared to make room.

Mary sighed as she watched workers fixing the gutters of the high school. In just a week she would be in there, starting her first day with kids who had been attending these schools together since kindergarten. She was the only homeschooled kid in Wallows, and it was fucking embarrassing. She turned away, shaking her head. She had seven days until next Monday, and she planned on making the most of them.

She pedaled closer to the intersection, turning left down Main Street. Straight to the heart of town. She didn’t even know where to go to buy school supplies. Her mother had always provided pencils and scissors and glue for their kitchen table lessons. She figured she would try the crafts section of the Hinky Dinky.

She rode through the center of town, past the town hall and the expansive green that was considered the heart of Wallows. The grass rippled in the breeze, littered with little patches of flowers. This was where every festival, gathering, and picnic took place. It was one of the few places in Wallows that always felt full of life, even on an early Monday morning like this one.

Mothers sat picnicking with their small children on spread-out quilts, and a few of the older kids ran around chasing a kite high above them. An old couple sat on a bench feeding the birds. The Johnsons, Mary thought their name was. They were nice, she often saw them at church.

The shops and restaurants along the sidewalk that crescent-mooned the green were beginning to awaken, with signs flipping from Sorry, Closed to Open! and doors being propped open by apron-clad owners.

The scene was worthy of a postcard.

Gilded cage, indeed.

Mary turned and steered down a smaller road in between two rows of buildings across the street from the green. The little road led to her to the Hinky Dinky parking lot, which was littered with only a few cars.

She leaned her bike against the side of one of the brick columns and traipsed through the automatic doors.

“Morning, Mary!” A man from behind the counter greeted her.

It was Earl, a kind old man who had run the grocery store since long before Mary was born. He could come across as kind of creepy sometimes, but Mary knew he meant well.

She smiled back at him, “Good morning, Earl!”

“Anything in particular you’re lookin for?”

“Some school supplies” She responded, bracing for the coming conversation.

“Ah, excitin!” Earl exclaimed.

“You’re gettin awfully big, what grade you goin into?”

“My senior year”

Earl nodded, pointing to the back.

“Well, try your hand in the office supplies. Don’t know if we got exactly what you need, but you’re welcome to take a look.”

“Thanks, Earl.” Mary responded, turning from the checkout counter to slip between the aisles.

In the back of the store, a small rack of craft and office supplies stood in the middle of the large back aisle of meat and dairy fridges.

There wasn’t much to choose from. She grabbed a pack of pencils, some erasers, and a pen. She bent down and reached for a cellophane-bound stack of ruled paper. She wasn’t sure what else she might need. Maybe a calculator, but she certainty wasn’t finding that here.

She took her measly findings back to Earl at the checkout counter, tuning out his droning at the thought of her next stop of the day.

“You want a bag?” He asked loudly, and her head snapped up.

She nodded, and he handed her a plastic sack filled with her supplies. She slipped her change into the bag and waved to him as he bid her farewell.

She glanced the clock on the wall before she exited the double doors, seeing that it was only noon. She had plenty of time. Her parents surely wouldn’t be home till after dinner.

She tied her plastic sack to the center of her handlebars and rode off, starting to sweat underneath the hot sun. It was getting really hot. A swim in the lake would feel incredible right about now.

As she passed back through Main Street, the town had fully awoken and was now bustling with activity. Well, actually it wasn’t really, but for Wallows it was definitely busier than usual. All of the families who had vacationed over the summer were slowly trickling back in, flooding the Main Street shops to re-stock their homes with necessities.

There were so many cars on the street that Mary had to retreat to the sidewalk to avoid getting hit. She weaved through pedestrians until she had turned back onto Hutton Street, where the traffic was considerably less heavy. Still, Mary was passed by a half a dozen cars heading towards town, and there was actually a backup at the stop sign intersection of Hutton Street and Celia Street, which led to the freeway. She had never seen cars lined up there before.

As the houses turned to fields and she could hear the birds sing again, a wave of peace washed over Mary, mingling with the cool country breeze cutting through the heat. She loved it out here. It was so tranquil, so quiet. It was like a little oasis that miraculously appeared to only her and nobody else.

The next fifteen minutes were filled with daydreaming and humming and contemplating whether to pull an apple out of her bag for lunch. No, she had already had a peach for breakfast. But she was so hungry. But her shorts were feeling a little tight, she couldn’t afford it. But she was soooo hungry.

The back and forth in her mind was abruptly cut off when the familiar rusty mailbox came into view. Her eyes came up to take in the house. What a sight for sore eyes. Her gaze swept the gables and windows, the roof and the yard, and what the fuck?

What. the. fuck.

No.

Mary couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Right in the center of her yard, a big, ugly FOR SALE sign was planted into the grass. And to make it a hundred times worse, a red stripe baring the words SOLD was slapped diagonally across.

What was happening? Nobody else was even supposed to know about this place. It was hers, hidden away and waiting for her when she needed it. So why was there a big ugly flag planted right on the lawn, marking a territory that had long been claimed as her own? It wasn’t right.

She faintly heard her bike clatter to the ground as she ran over to the sign, her mind spinning. She ran a hand over it, trying to figure out the trick. It surely wasn’t real, some kind of optical illusion, or a trick of the light. But no, the sign remained, towering high as it mocked her. A flash of red caught her attention from out of the corner of her eye. She turned towards the driveway to find a large red truck parked in the dirt.

She couldn’t think straight. She felt tears burning in the corners of her eyes. She stumbled to the oak tree, using it as a brace to keep herself up. She sunk down to the ground, shutting her eyes and leaning her head back onto the wood. Her trembling hands sunk into the earth and clawed the dirt. The thought of someone else in her house, filling her rooms with their things.

Oh my god.

Her stuff.

Her clothes and supplies and CDs and pillows and books. Oh god, her books. Her stories. Where were they? Still in the house? Surely not.

The only thing keeping her sane, keeping her alive, was this house. The hours she spent here were what kept her going. It was her sanctuary, a little pocket of safety she had carved out and kept close to her heart. Where would she go? How would she fill her free time or get a few hours of quiet or read her books? This couldn’t be happening.

“Hey little girl! Get the fuck out of my yard!”

She was jolted from her misery by a gruff, deep voice shouting at her. Her eyes snapped towards the direction of the noise, landing on the porch. A stranger stood holding the front door open with one hand and a rifle in the other. She squinted, trying to make out who it was. She didn’t think she’d ever see them before. It was a man. A very large man. A scary man who looked like he was moments away from shooting her.

She stood up, suddenly nervous due to the way the man was holding the gun. Surely he wouldn’t actually shoot her. What the fuck was going on? This had to be some kind of joke.

As she stood in the yard that used to be hers but now apparently belonged to this man, she felt like a deer in the headlights. Like she had been caught. Caught doing what? Coming to her house? At this thought, all the fear in Mary’s veins turned to anger. It coursed through her veins and burned her insides.

She stalked across the grass and up the porch steps to stand in front of where the man still held the front door open. She looked up at him as he stepped forward, letting the door swing closed, keeping her out. The rifle still hung limp in his other hand.

“Who the fuck are you?” Mary questioned, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

The man huffed out something like a laugh, but the look in his eyes was far from humored.

“Why are you askin me that? The real question is who are you, and what are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere sittin in my yard like you own the place?”

Because I fucking do, Mary thought. But she didn’t, not anymore. And it made her want to sob.

Mary glared up at him, taking in his frame. He was huge. She was pretty tall, but he still towered over her. He was broad and strong, muscles rippling through his t-shirt.

He definitely had a face to match his frame. Rugged and weathered, with a hardened expression that sent a little shiver through Mary’s body. He was really handsome, but also the scariest person she had ever seen. She felt so indescribably small in front of him, shaking and barely holding back sobs but still trying to look intimidating. She probably looked fucking stupid, like a scared little girl. Which is what she was.

“I do own this place.”

What the fuck. Why did she say that? What was happening to her? She was so angry she couldn’t think straight, and apparently couldn’t talk, either. The urge to slap this man across his face was growing stronger by the second.

He chuckled again, pointing to the sign in the yard.

“Not what the sign says, little girl.”

Shame and embarrassment blushed across Mary’s face, making her skin burn and flush scarlet. All the fight within in her died and curled in on itself, like an animal of prey that knew it was caught. She looked down at her feet, unable to meet his eyes.

“Well, no that’s not what I meant . . . I mean, I used to own it. Like, I would come here, and I have a key and all my stuff is inside . . .”

She was rambling now. She couldn’t stop it. She felt tears streaming down her cheeks.

The man held up a hand in front of her face, bringing her pathetic babbling to a halt.

“Listen little girl, I don’t really care. I don’t care who you are or if you used to come here, but what I do care about is you handing me the key you apparently have to my house and runnin’ on home before your parents start worryin”

Mary was angry again. What right did he have to talk to her like this? Like she was some stupid child who had misbehaved.

“I’m not a little girl” she seethed. “My name is Mary.”

At this, the man stepped back slightly from where he had been crowding her. His face changed from demeaning to something a little more confused. Something flashed across his eyes, something dark, and Mary watched it spread across his features and settle there. He looked fucking terrifying.

His eyes searched her face for a few moments, and he looked so taken aback Mary almost asked him what was wrong. But after a few seconds he spoke again, his voice darker than before.

“Do you really have a key to my house?” he asked, and Mary was so petrified all she could do was nod.

“Where is it?”

“In my bike” She squeaked.

“Go get it.”

Mary scrambled down the steps and over to her bike, digging in her bag for the brass key that lay at the bottom. She hated the mean, angry man who was currently watching her trudge back to him from the porch. She despised him and she didn’t even know him. She didn’t even know his name, for God’s sake. She hated how scared he made her, and that he was the person she was being forced to resign her key to. She was practically fuming by the time she made her way back up the steps and reluctantly dropped her key into his waiting hand.

“Now get out of here. If I ever see you here again, little girl, I’ll shoot ya myself.”

From the way he was looking at her, Mary knew he meant it.

She glared at him with all the hatred swirling inside her, hoping he could feel it. After a few seconds, she turned around slowly and made her way back down to her bike. As she pedaled away down the road, she could feel his eyes watching her as she turned around the corner and out of sight.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The next six days dragged out in front of Mary like a movie playing on a screen. She couldn’t feel, couldn’t think, couldn’t experience things the same way she did before. Before. Before her only escape and sense of self was yanked out from under her by that man. Just the thought of him sent shockwaves of hatred through Mary’s body. She hadn’t seen him since last Monday, and she hadn’t been back to the house out of fear of being fucking shot down.

The week had been an out-of-body experience, and Mary hadn’t felt like herself. She had come back from the house to her angry parents waiting at the kitchen table. Her encounter with the man had set Mary back a good bit of time, and it had been almost dark by the time she got home.

Turns out her parents had gotten home early, and they grilled her for almost an hour about being “a good steward of the time the Lord hath granted you”. Some preachy bullshit that barely made any sense and that Andrew would surely re-use for one of his sermons. Then Margaret had hit Mary across her palms with a ruler, and when that failed to produce any tears, Andrew had slapped her across the face with his Bible.

Whenever her parents had a bad day at work Mary expected that kind of thing. She was their punching bag. She knew it wasn’t actually about her, but that thought did very little to quell the pain that shot across her body or comfort her aching heart.

When she had made her way up the stairs to her room she found the milk glass she had forgotten to take down to the sink shattered across her floor. Margaret’s doing, surely. The little jagged pieces had latched onto the bottoms of Mary’s feet and caused blood to seep from her soles and ankles into the floorboards.

So now Mary stood, shifting uncomfortably in her shoes in the shadow of her mother as Margaret chatted with one of the insufferable church ladies. It was Sunday, and her father had just finished up an hour-long sermon to which Mary had paid absolutely no attention to. Just a few words caught her attention. “Good steward” and “being timely” had caused her to chuckle darkly. Called it.

The pain in her feet was bordering on unbearable, and the itchiness of the lace that trimmed her socks brushed and chafed the scratches on her ankles. Her blue Sunday-best dress was pinching her neck and armpits uncomfortably, and the ribbons in her braids were partially falling out. She fidgeted with them as she half listened to a woman behind her whisper about her maybe-cheating husband.

She was hot - the small chapel hadn’t had working air conditioning for over five years - and the droning of her mother’s grating voice nearby was driving her crazy. As she looked around the small room, a conversation between a few men caught her attention. She shifted slightly in order to hear better.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard that too”

“So he’s back?”

“Henry, keep your damn voice down! Remember where we are”

“Ah, that’s right. I wonder if he’s heard yet.”

“Probably. That old fucker always knew how to make an entrance.”

A third man entered the circle, and Mary had to lean even further to hear his hushed words.

“Y’all talkin’ about Joel?”

“Chester!” They both whisper-shouted.

“Keep your voice down!”

“Sorry” Chester whispered, lowering his tone even further.

Mary took a few steps in their direction, pretending to be interested in something out the window.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Old Joel Miller, back in Wallows.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s wild. Hardly believed it myself”

“Heard he moved into the old house. Yeah, yeah, the big one out in the fields. Haven’t thought about that place in damn near 20 twenty years.”

Mary could barely hear herself suck in a gasp over the blood roaring through her ears. She stumbled forward, reaching her hand out against the windowsill to steady herself. Surely she was hearing wrong. They were talking about her house. Well Joel’s house, apparently. Was that the name of the man she met? It had to be.

Joel Miller.

“Ya alright, sweetheart?”, she heard coming from her left.

She turned her head to where the three graying men stood huddled together, looking at her with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She mumbled. “Just . . . hot.”

The one in the middle nodded slowly.

“Well. . . alright then.” he said, and they turned back to their conversation.

Her head snapped back up to the window as something red and familiar streaked across her peripheral. Her eyes focused on what was now moving fast away from the church. A truck. A red truck. The same truck she had seen in the driveway of the house. Was the man - Joel - here? She hadn’t seen him in the service. Why else would he be here? Why had he not come in?

She turned away from the window and dashed towards the door, ignoring her mother’s stern call. She pushed open the heavy chapel doors and stumbled down the steps, racing through the parking lot after the truck.

Her chest heaved as she watched it pull away, too far gone now for her to catch up. As the red blur grew smaller down the road, only one thing echoed through her head. A mantra of her bitterness, her hatred, and her pain.

A name.

Joel. Joel. Joel. Joel.

[yaoyuandaydream]

i learned passive-aggressiveness from my dad and i'm not proud of it. but lately i've been losing my patience and i think i'm okay with losing, if it means i won't have to second guess my every move. i don't want to play games. i don't want to have to explain myself. i just want to be quiet. to be quiet, and take care of myself. it's just funny how it doesn't seem to be enough now that i've learned it a little too well.

[elprupneerg]

I’m gonna need to get one of those pill counter things aren’t I

[missdynamighttt]

can i just say... bf! katsuki is my BIGGEST weakness during ovulation week.

it started this morning when you caught sight of katsuki fresh out of the shower. hair damp, towel slung low on his hips, abs on full display, steam rolling off his skin like he was the main event of your personal thirst trap.

and, okay, that wasn’t new. katsuki was always hot. but today? goddamn, he was ruthlessly, unfairly, painfully hot.

the way he tilts his head slightly, jawline sharp enough to cut? ruthlessly hot.

the way he runs a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back, only for a few stubborn strands to fall over his forehead again? unfairly hot.

the way his voice drops when he’s right out of the shower, grumbling "hey, pretty." ? painfully hot.

at breakfast, he rolled up his sleeves, forearms flexing as he poured coffee, his back muscles flexing and his sweatpants hanging just right. then he smirked at you over his coffee mug, all lazy and cocky like he knew exactly what he was doing.

katsuki leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee, eyes flicking to you as you sat stiffly at the table. "you good?"

you blinked rapidly. "huh?"

he raised an eyebrow, setting his mug down. "i said, you good? you’ve been actin’ weird all mornin’."

you let out a very unconvincing laugh, waving a hand. "weird? me? pfft, no. what? i’m totally fine. why wouldn’t i be fine?"

he squinted at you. "you’re talkin’ too fast."

"no, i'm not," you blurted, voice an octave too high.

his eyes narrowed further. "alright. if you say so."

then, in the most infuriatingly nonchalant way, he stretched, arms lifting over his head, shirt riding up just enough to expose that stupidly perfect v-line that made you wanna take his stupid sweatpants down and show him what else was fast.

was this ovulation? was this what biology had reduced you to? some desperate, needy girl thirsting over her boyfriend for simply existing?

it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t your fault that your biology was telling you that your boyfriend—the one currently standing there, stretching like he wasn’t a menace to your self-control—was the most attractive man to ever exist.

by the time he kissed your forehead before heading out for work, you were trying to hold back.

and now, hours later, when he finally walked through the door, sweaty from the day, you just snapped.

he could barely get an "'m home," before you grabbed his face, and kissed the hell out of him.

it was desperate, almost aggressive. like you were trying to pour everything you couldn’t say into the way your lips moved against his. your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, your body pressing against his like you needed him to feel it.

katsuki made a noise of surprise before growling into the kiss, hands immediately gripping your waist. "the fuck’s gotten into you—?"

you didn’t let him finish. you kissed him again, harder this time, tilting your head to deepen it.

he chuckled against your lips, all rough and fond. "shit, sweets. you ovulatin’ or somethin’?"

your face burned. "just shut up and let me kiss you."

his grin was cocky, but his eyes—fuck, his eyes were soft. the kind of soft that was willing to do anything for you.

"yes, ma’am."

that was 20 minutes ago. your boyfriend was a man who never held back—not in fights, not in arguments, and definitely not in bed.

"katsuki—!"

your voice hitched, his hands gripping your hips so tight you knew you’d see bruises in the morning.

right now, he had you on your hands and knees, back arched, your cheek pressed against the sheets as he fucked you senseless from behind. every thrust was deep, hard, and his thick cock stretching you in a way that had your mind going hazy.

"fuckin’ perfect," he groaned, voice dripping with hunger. "so tight— s’like you were made for me."

your fingers fisted in the sheets as you turned your head to the side, cheeks burning. "d-don’t say that..."

he let out a rough chuckle, leaning down so his chest was flush against your back, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "what? you don’t like hearin’ how fuckin’ perfect you are? how good you feel wrapped around me?"

you let out a whimper, already flustered from the way he was ruining you, but the words made your body react even more. a fresh wave of heat washed over you, your walls squeezing around him as he cursed under his breath.

"oh, you fuckin’ love that, don’t you?" his tone turned smug. "gettin’ all dumb on my cock, my pretty girl likes hearin’ how fuckin’ good she is?"

you shook your head quickly, a feeble attempt to deny it, but the way you clenched around him betrayed you.

"embarrassed?" he taunted, voice dripping with sin. "bet if i told you how fuckin’ pretty you look right now. mouth all pouty, eyes tearin’ up from takin’ me so deep, you’d clench around me again, huh?"

you whined, squeezing your eyes shut as he punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust.

"that’s it," he murmured, kissing along your neck. his pace never faltered, each roll of his hips sending you spiraling deeper into pleasure. "so damn cute when you get all shy on me."

you gasped, face burning, but your body betrayed you again, thighs trembling as you struggled to keep yourself upright.

he grinned against your skin, placing a possessive bite on your shoulder before pulling back and snapping his hips into you harder.

"fuck," he growled, voice wrecked. "pussy’s squeezin’ so fuckin’ tight—goddamn, you’re so needy for me. you want more, don’t you?"

you shook your head again, biting your lip to stop the desperate sounds threatening to escape, but he wasn’t having it.

"wrong answer, pretty," he huffed, landing a sharp slap on your ass that had you jolting forward. "you don't want more?"

"i—" your voice came out breathless, barely above a whimper.

another slap, this time accompanied by a punishing thrust that sent you spiraling. "c’mon, pretty girl. use your words."

you were too far gone, pleasure twisting in your core, your head spinning from both the rough pace and his filthy praise. it was too much—too intense, too embarrassing.

"yes... yes, i want more," you mewled, shaking. "please, katsu.. don't stop..."

"that's it. so fuckin’ cute, all flustered while i’m deep inside you. my pretty little thing," he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss against your neck, nipping at your skin. "shit, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. i should praise you more often if it makes you this fuckin’ wet."

he was relentless, every filthy word paired with deep, punishing strokes that sent you spiraling. your legs trembled as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach, and he felt it—knew exactly how close you were.

"cum for me, sweets," he ordered, voice rough. "cum all over my cock, c'mon."

and fuck, with that, you did make a hot-white mess—his name tumbling from your lips in a wrecked, needy cry.

katsuki didn’t stop. if anything, he fucked you through it, pressing kisses against your flushed skin.

"such a good fuckin’ girl," he murmured, hips stuttering as he chased his own high. "makin’ a mess all over me—fuck, i’m gonna fill you up real nice."

with a final thrust, he spilled inside you, groaning as he pressed himself as deep as he could go. his arms caged you in, keeping you close as he panted against your skin.

even afterward, when you were still catching your breath, he didn’t stop. his fingers traced lazy circles on your waist, his lips pressing soft kisses along your shoulder. "y'alright, sweets?"

you hummed in response, body still trembling slightly as you melted against the sheets. your breath was unsteady, your skin sticky with sweat, and yet katsuki still held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

the best damn thing he’d ever laid his hands on.

he leaned down, kissing the top of your head before shifting onto his side, pulling you with him so he could hold you properly.

a low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he kissed your jaw, then the corner of your lips. "knew you liked my dirty mouth, but fuck, baby, you really got off on that, huh?"

your face burned, and you weakly swatted at him. "don’t start."

"but you do," his smile was smug, but his touch was impossibly gentle as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "get all shy when i tell you how fuckin’ pretty you are."

you groaned, hiding your face against his chest. "i hate you."

he scoffed, fingers brushing over your spine in slow, soothing motions. "yeah? that why you're still clingin’ to me?"

your body betrayed you, curling into him instinctively, and katsuki’s smile softened into something fonder.

his hands moved over you like he was memorizing you all over again, rubbing at the spots he knew would be sore in the morning, pressing soft kisses anywhere he left marks.

“did i go too hard?” his voice was quieter now, laced with genuine concern. “y’know i’d never—”

you shook your head before he could even finish, reaching up to run your fingers through his messy hair. “no, katsu. you were perfect.”

his eyes softened, and he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “good. and for the record? i meant every fuckin’ word.”

you sighed, smiling despite your embarrassment, and katsuki sees right through you.

“better get used to it,” he murmured, voice dipping into that rough, affectionate tone that always made your heart ache. “ain’t ever gonna stop tellin’ you how fuckin’ perfect you are, sweets.”

and you realized that katsuki bakugo, your relentless, insufferable, painfully hot boyfriend, had always been your biggest weakness. ovulation week or not.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ ovulation week hitting me hard >< also consider this part two to this fic where katsuki does more praise and reader is shy. hope you guys enjoyed💜💜

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 4 | masterlist

-

There’s nothing else to do but pretend it didn’t happen. 

In the morning, you’re surprised to wake up and find him in the bed next to you, still covered in old sweat and dried cum. You suppose even in your sleep you’d unconsciously expected him to avoid the incident altogether—wake up extra early to shower while leaving you alone in the bed, giving you a modicum of privacy to digest the situation and its repercussions on your own.

He does no such thing.

“Morning, sweetheart,” John rumbles, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Feeling alright?”

Dangling precariously over the edge of oblivion. Some kind of abyss. The kind that says you might not like what’s down here, girlie, but still you sit by the edge and kick your feet. 

“Yeah,” you croak, and Lord, your voice is hoarse. Scratchy and rough, like it’s been dragged over sandpaper. 

“Good.” He lets his hand rest on the curve of your cheek for a second before pulling it away. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll shower after.”

The bed groans under his weight when he sits up, throwing his legs over the side before rising to his feet. You quickly avert your eyes at the sight of his naked backside, hairy there as well. A bear all over. Even his yawn reminds you of one. And the way that he stretches his arms overhead and every bone in his upper body cricks and cracks, the sounds of age manifold. 

You scrub yourself with shaky hands in the shower, gnawing at your bottom lip when you spread your puffy folds to find his cum still slightly tacky inside of you. Very bad. Scooping as much out as you can with your fingers, watching it run down the drain. Very bad indeed. 

John has breakfast on the table when you come downstairs and it seems, somehow, uncouth to just tell him you want to go home. So instead you force yourself to sit and eat, glad that he at least agrees that it isn’t the time for conversation. 

At the door, he sees you off with a hug, watching you from the door until you reverse out of his driveway and drive off, waving as you leave. 

“This is really bad,” you whisper to yourself on the drive home. “Really, really bad.”

Despite the morning after, the night you spent together is never explicitly spoken about. It’s not a ‘thing’ you discuss by any means. No sit down conversation, no awkward allusions to it, no talking around and around the events until the exchange becomes unbearable. It simply blips out of existence as soon as you change into your old clothes and John walks you to the door, seeing you out. 

You still show up the next day, as usual. Nothing’s changed except everything, but it feels taboo to even mention that things feel different. 

The world hasn’t radically changed since you accidentally slept with John, but it certainly feels that way sometimes. In the few delicate hours after leaving his house, you were sure he’d call at any moment to tell you that your services would no longer be required—that he’d send your last check in the mail before parting ways. So sure of that, in fact, that you’d put your phone on silent for hours before mustering up the courage to check your missed calls later that evening.

Only a few texts from friends. No missed calls from your employer. 

He doesn’t fire you. He certainly doesn’t treat you any differently the next time you come to babysit. You still get paid every week—though, admittedly, the money makes you feel a little weird now after sleeping with him, but it’s not like you can just turn your nose up at making rent—and everything else in your life stays exactly the same. If you weren’t now acutely aware of the feeling of your boss coming inside you, you might even think you dreamt it up. 

Still, despite John never bringing it up or even alluding to sleeping with you, there’s still a sense that he—

The soft, affectionate thanks, hun that he gives you when you bring him a glass of water on the rare day he comes home early to work out in the garage makes you shiver. 

His need to touch increases tenfold, matched only by his proprietariness. He must feel like after what you did together, it’s nothing for him to squeeze your thighs when he tells you that you did a good job with the baby or hug you extra tight when you’re about to leave. 

If you’re extra shy around him, he doesn’t remark on it. 

You’re levelheaded enough to know that he shouldn’t be so touchy with his younger female employee—his babysitter no less—especially after what happened, but it’s not as though he treats you like sleeping with you is a given. When a week goes by and nothing happens, you almost relax. Almost. Enough to let your guard down. 

But—

You can’t stop thinking about it though. It runs through your head every hour of every day, made worse by the fact that you see him six days a week, Sundays excluded. Sundays being your one day off, which you no longer look forward to but rather dread because Sundays mean no baby, no park, and no John Price.

So, you follow his lead and pretend like it didn’t happen. 

You think it’s past you; a terrible mistake that’ll never happen again until it happens again. 

Eight o’clock at night and the blue light from the television has begun to strain your eyes. Baby sleeping upstairs—you put him down a few hours earlier without much of a peep; had to check on him a few times, but otherwise the baby monitor sitting on the end table hasn’t so much as crackled, leaving you no choice but to doze off on the couch. 

When the door opens, it startles you awake. 

“Mr. Price?” you ask, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and clearing your throat.

John’s there when you twist around to peek over the back of the couch, filling out the door frame. Dishevelled after a long day’s work, his beard even more grown out than when he left earlier in the morning. A bit rougher around the edges, the day leaving its mark in the slight dark circles under his eyes and the set of his jaw, which only relaxes when he lays eyes on you. 

“Just me, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, I…the baby’s been asleep for awhile, so I just thought I’d—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I know you’ve got it under control.”

“Let me just get my stuff and I’ll be out of your hair—”

He cuts you off with a wave, toeing his boots off at the same time. “No, no, no—you stay there and finish your movie. I’m gonna grab a drink and join you.”

There’s not much more you can say to that. Instead, you watch him take his bag upstairs to put away in the bedroom before you hear the sink turn on. Running water. 

You carefully avoid looking at him when John comes back downstairs, the creaking steps signalling his descent. He heads to the kitchen without stopping by the living room first. The light switches on with a click. The fridge door opens and bottles clinking together when he roots around for something to drink. 

And then you hear him make his way back to the living room. 

The unspoken pact to not bring up what happened the last time you spent any alone time together imbues you with a false sense of security. Part of you expects him to take the single recliner next to the couch, if only to put some distance between the two of you. 

Except when he comes back into the living room, he plops right down in the middle of the couch like always, close enough to you that you’re forced to scoot away, pressed up against the arm of the sofa. You shiver when he cracks open his beer and takes a swig, resting his arm on the back of the couch with the can held in a loose grip. 

“What’re we watching?” he asks, blatantly adjusting himself to get more comfortable on the couch. Even soft, the outline of his cock is visible through his trousers. 

You stare over at him nervously, unblinking. 

“Sweetheart?” John prompts when you don’t answer. 

“Oh, um…” You clear your throat again. “It’s just a Hallmark movie.”

“Cute. Well, we can keep it on. No sense changing it now.”

It’s tense for a little while. You keep your hands folded in your lap like a good girl and your eyes on the television. So you can’t stop inhaling the heady scent of tobacco and vanilla. So you can’t stop blinking your eyes, each blink heavier than the last until they spend more time shut than open. So you yawn and burrow deeper into the cushions, your head tipping back and nearly jarring you awake when you lean too far and topple over the side. 

When you lean the other way and start to doze off on his shoulder, he pulls you onto his lap. You squirm, initially resistant, but he shushes you before you can put up a fuss. 

“Just don’t want you to drool on my shirt,” he teases in a low murmur, smoothing a hand down your side and then it’s lights out for you. 

You wake to a blunt intrusion at your entrance. Half-awake and squirming, you vaguely feel him rub the tip of his cock up and down your pussy, teasing himself. The second you squirm just a little too much, he uses that little bit of movement to push the tip in. It pops in without much resistance; then the slow, methodical press inward, your walls squeezing around the thick length thrusting up into you. 

“Wha—” you whimper, keening when a big hand glides up your chest to squeeze a tit, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“S’alright, baby, it’s just me,” John murmurs, his voice right in your ear. 

You come to gradually and then all at once, aware of your back pressed to his clothed chest and your legs spread around his, your ankles hooked around his calves. Skirt rolled up and panties pushed to the side, one of his arms locked around your waist like a seatbelt to hold you in place. 

“John, I’m—we c-can’t do it again—”

“Sorry, honey,” he apologises into your neck, kissing the area he just spoke into. “Had to be inside you again. S’all I’ve been able to think about since you came on my cock the other night. Promise it’ll be easier this time, okay, baby?”

He guides you down his length until he bottoms out, slick lips kissing the base of his dick. The pressure is overwhelming; in your belly, in your throat, in your head. Heart beating a million miles a minute. Walls throbbing around his length, thicker and heavier than you remembered. 

All you can think of now is the last time he had you like this, legs spread for him and pussy dripping wet. Taking his cock all sleepy and sweaty under his giant comforter, whimpering into his neck. 

It’s not as frantic this time, no rush to the finish line. He seems to like just burying his cock in you while he plays with your breasts, pinching and plucking your nipples until they’re pebbled and sore. His hands aren’t particularly soft either, callused from years of hard labour. When you whine and try to push his hands away, he shushes you again, not paying your protests any mind. 

“Fuck, these are pretty,” John praises, staring down at your tits from over your shoulder. “No, baby, jus’ watch your show. M’gonna use your pussy for a bit, okay?”

It’s just that it’s—

When he lets go of your breast to play with your clit instead, you melt, any resistance going up in flames. The heat fans over your cheeks, your eyelids too heavy to lift, vision blurring even when you try to focus. 

He helps you grind your hips down on him, big hands like manacles on your waist. Little undulations of your hips. Short, shallow thrusts that keep you both right on the edge, drenching his lap with your juices. When he gets bored of playing with your clit, he switches back to your breasts, pawing at them and then bending down to suck a nipple into his mouth. 

Any time you get distracted by what he’s doing, he stops, holding you down on his cock and coaxing you to focus on the television in front of you instead. 

When he jiggles your clit, you seize up, heart hammering in your throat. 

“Good girl, c’mon—jus’ like that.” John presses a hot kiss to your temple, arm tightening around your front to keep you close. Sweet talks you through your orgasm, all vaguely paternalistic and patronising in the best and worst way.  

He makes you lean forward so he can bounce you on his dick after, your hands braced on his knees to keep yourself upright. 

“Ah, ah, ah, ah—”

“Almost there, honey, jus’—fuck, perfect, yeah, tighten up like that. Good fuckin’ girl.”

He comes with a strangled moan, still cognizant enough to keep the volume down even if you can’t. Shuttles you down onto his cock a few more times until you’re filled to the brim with cum. 

In the aftermath, he sits you back against his sweat-matted chest and pushes his cum back into your sore cunt with his fingers when it dribbles out. Ignores your wounded little sounds like they’re just background noise. He even makes you suck his fingers to clean them up, the digits coated in your combined juices. 

“Best fuckin’ girl,” John growls, pressing another kiss to the side of your head. Your fingers twitch feebly in your lap. 

Pretending like it didn’t happen after the second time around doesn’t seem wise, but still you don’t know how to broach the subject. 

Especially since you know it’s going to happen again. 

John doesn’t say it outright, but his actions speak for themselves. An arm looped around your waist casually in line for coffee. Paying for the two of you in any situation, you having your own source of income be damned. 

“It’s my money anyway, sweetheart,” he says when you point that out. “Might as well just pay now.”

And doesn’t that just send you into a tizzy, head spinning and mouth agape. Embarrassingly so. 

Not to mention you still have this strange, sycophantic need to please him, even after everything. The complicated nature of your relationship aside, it still makes your heart flutter to hear him praise you for anything. 

That’s how you end up in his bed on a Saturday afternoon, taking a nap with him after a long day out in the sun. Two hours spent at the botanical gardens, the sun beating down on your head, lathering sunscreen on the baby’s sensitive little arms and legs, and swiping it over his cheeks. John sporting a mild sunburn near the collar of his shirt where he forgot to apply sunscreen and when you have the audacity to giggle, he pulls your baseball hat down over your eyes. 

It’s almost too easy for him to coax you into his bed, even though you’re adamant about keeping it clean. A hand firm on your back up the stairs. Already yawning when you put the baby down for a nap, so why not take one too? Ushering you into the bedroom when you say you can take the couch, but why, he presses, take the couch when you’ve already shared the bed before?

Well, because the last time—

He draws the blinds shut and climbs into bed, pulling you into his chest. 

You wake up to John plastered against your back, bare cock nudging against your cunt while he snores into your neck. You don’t remember him curling up next to you without any clothes on, but he must have taken off his pants in his sleep, now somewhere rumpled at the end of the bed. 

When you try to quietly pull away, his arms just tighten around you more, grumbling in his sleep. The sound makes you freeze, going quiet as a mouse. A few more minutes go by before you feel confident enough to try moving again, carefully trying to slide out from his hold. 

You wiggle a hand out, reaching for the other end of the bed.

The hand resting on your belly dips low, shoved between your legs and feeling you up before you can do more than gasp. The man behind you gives a short exhale, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, rising out of it like a wave now that he feels something wet under his hand.

“Oh, honey…why didn’t you tell me you needed my cock again? You’re leaking right through your panties,” John rasps, dragging your underwear down to mid-thigh. 

A big bear hand clamps over your mouth before you have a chance to protest. There’s nothing you can do to keep his knee from spreading your legs and feeding his cock into your drenched centre with his other hand. As soon as he notches the head against your entrance, it’s a smooth glide in. 

“There we go,” he pants into your neck. “Big stretch—ah, yeah, nice ‘n tight. That’s my pretty girl.”

He keeps your legs spread with a hand on the inside of your thigh. All you can do is moan behind his hand, humid breath blowing back around your face as you pant. So hot for it that you’re almost nauseous. 

You’re a bit too tight for him to fit his cock in you, so he has to work to stretch you out, bullying another inch into you with every thrust. The angle makes it tricky though; means he can’t get more than half of his cock into you. It’s hardly comfortable for you either, your leg already cramping. 

“My leg’s got a cramp,” you whine, unsure of what you want to happen. All you know is that you can’t keep this up. 

He readjusts his grip, but that just makes you hiss, wincing when that makes your leg twinge. Suddenly the world spins, the pillows going from comfortably under your head to right in your face, John manoeuvring you onto your tummy and hiking your hips up a few inches. It lets him get even deeper, the angle letting him slide right to the hilt. 

“Oh god, oh god—John, I can’t—”

“Shh—you’re alright, honey. Much better like this,” he breathes, settling on top of you. It takes him a second to get comfortable, nudging right up against a sensitive spot inside of you the whole time, so deep you can almost feel him in your throat. 

He weighs a ton on top of you, rutting between your thighs like he can’t hold himself back, his self-control snapping like brittle glass. Bristly beard chafing your neck when he buries his head to suck on the tender skin there, smothering you under his weight. Thighs trapping you in place, your memory jumping back to that time at the beach, but now there’s nothing between you. Just a thick cock pounding into you and moulding you around its shape.  

His hips slap against your ass with every thrust, the lewdest sound you’ve ever heard. 

“Gonna make sure it takes this time,” John grunts. “Wanna take care of my baby so bad? I’ll give you a couple to mind.”

That rattles you right to your core; shakes you to the foundations of who you are. You don’t know what to think, what to say—tongue tied and loose lipped all at once. You’ve let him come inside of you so many times that if it hasn’t taken already, surely it will soon. 

It slips out before you can take it back. “D-daddy, please—” 

That makes him lose his mind. Just a bit. 

“Fuck,” he snarls. “Again.”

He wedges his arm under you to curl his hand around your throat, tilting your head out. 

“Daddy—daddy—please, I wanna come—” you pant, repeating the same word until it sounds like nothing, tongue puffy in your mouth. 

His dick slips out at some point and he wrenches himself off you long enough to wrap his hand around himself and slap it against your ass a few times, cum tagging your skin. Your breath catches in your throat, whining when you clench down on nothing. One stroke after repositioning himself and he’s all the way back in, hammering the spot that makes you go cross-eyed and squeak. 

“Make daddy another baby, okay, sweetheart?” It’s not sweet. It’s not doting. It’s growled into your ear like a demand, punctuated by the way his hips snap forward, nearly sending you into the headboard. 

You’re practically an old hat at taking his cum now, squeezing up when you can feel it coming and giving him a nice little treat. He sinks his teeth into the back of your neck when he does, muffling the sound roaring out of him, and it hurts. 

He’s tender with you after though. Lavishes the line of your neck with soft kisses; murmurs sweet nothings into your ear while you cry fat tears onto the pillow. Even twists and turns so you’re no longer on your back but rather splayed across his chest again, urging you up for a deeper kiss with tongue. 

“‘Know you’re tired, sweetie, but this is for your own good,” John murmurs as he wedges a hard thigh between your legs and makes you ride it, grinding your sensitive, throbbing clit down on the muscle. “Can you come, baby? Jus’ like that—that’s good, baby—”

It hurts so good that you don’t even notice when you squirt, the emotions too big for you. It’s like being squeezed too tight, unable to catch your breath or say anything but the same word on a loop. John’s sweet about it though—wipes the sweat from your hairline and upper lip, talking you through it until you slump down on his chest, legs akimbo.   

For a bachelor, you think in a daze, he’d make a good husband.

The days grow colder and the sun sets earlier.

A while ago you thought maybe this babysitting gig would be temporary. That at some point you’d move on—maybe go back to school or apply for a more standard nine-to-five job. That’s how the trajectory of your life was supposed to go, you think. 

But the timing never seems right. Maybe you’ve grown too attached to the baby or maybe the pay is just too good to give up or maybe you’ve just become habituated to someone getting you off at least every other day. Still, it feels a bit weird to get paid for what essentially boils down to fucking a man and taking care of his baby. 

It comes up when you’re sitting out on the porch with him again, this time in his lap in the same adirondack chair, a blanket wrapped around you to keep you warm. John laces his fingers through yours, thumb stroking over your finger, burning a line into the skin.

“Doesn’t it make you feel weird to pay me for…” you say, trailing off with a cocked eyebrow. Surely he must catch your drift. 

He chuckles. You wait for the joke.

Your eyes must be big as moons staring up at him. 

“Don’t think of it as a paycheck, sweetheart. That’s your allowance.”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and swallow. 

“Okay,” you whisper. Then let him reel you back in for another kiss, his thumb resting over your ring finger and pressing.

[prosypepper]

this is love ft. kento nanami

a/n: a few sappy slices of life with my main man :3 enjoy as i dig up motivation to finish kinktober. 18+ mdni!

"honey?" kento's voice is muffled through the door as he calls out to you, "everything okay?" the door rattles as he tries to open it, knob jingling.

"uhm, yeah! everything's fine!" you nervously shout, much too loud, and rush to unplug the iron that had melted your husband's favorite shirt. you panic and yelp when the hot iron scorches the side on your hand, throwing the stupid device to the ground in a clatter.

"why is the door locked—are you okay?" he asks, voice becoming more concerned as he hears the movement inside.

"i'm—i'm fine! promise! just give me a minute!" you're rushing into your shared master bathroom to run cold water over your hand, and kento’s using a screwdriver pulled from thin air to break into your bedroom. tears well in your eyes when you catch the sight of kento seeing his favorite shirt burnt and melted to his own ironing board. "i’m so sorry…"

in reality, he doesn’t care about the shirt—he’s already at your side to inspect your burnt hand. after a few seconds, he speaks.

"did you try to iron my shirt for me?" nanami asks, a small smile on his face, "you didn’t have to do that." he turns off the faucet and takes a small towel to dry your hand off.

"i tried to, i’m sorry—i didn’t know it would do that." you apologize, looking down at the cold tile flooring in defeat.

"oh, honey." he coos, "it’s only a shirt."

"have you seen your father?" you ask your son, yū, who’s sat at the dining table, eating breakfast. he shakes his head no, and when you look at your daughter, mayu, she does the same.

"jeez," you grumble to yourself, bedroom slippers pattering down the hallway as you go to search for your husband. saturday mornings were his time to sleep in, but realistically, he never slept past 9am. and currently, it was nearing 10am.

you check everywhere. he isn’t found in the bedroom, living room, his office, the garage, the patio or in the little garden he kept. upstairs, downstairs, everywhere, he isn’t there. and when you check in your bedroom for the last time, you hear a soft buzzing coming from the bathroom. upon entering, you see your husband bent over the counter, leaning close in the mirror as he shaves his stubble with an electric razor.

"there you are—when did you get that?"

kento had always been a clean shaven kind of man, going to a barber shop once every two weeks for his straight razor shave. it hadn’t even crossed your mind he didn’t go after work yesterday.

but when he looks at you—you burst out laughing. he’d shaven most of his beard off, but a few fuzzy patches remained on his cheeks, along with a mustache grazing his upper lip. peach fuzz and a few knicks litter his chin. this was the first time you’d seen him unable to do anything perfectly. and he looks ridiculous.

"is it really that bad?" he groans, pouting when you wrap your arms around yourself in a giggling fit. you shake your head, although your unforgiving laughs are a testament to the opposite.

"no—no, let me help," you say after calming down.

after gathering a new razor and some shaving cream, you sit atop the counter and your husband stands between your legs. kento is surprised how flawlessly you shave his face, without creating any more marks or cuts. you giggle and kiss him, getting some shaving cream on your face.

"ken?" you shout from the kitchen, where you’re sat, working on your dissertation. it’s been a long road of blood, sweat, and many, many tears; but you’re finally getting towards the end. about to earn a doctorate.

"yes, darling?" kento replies, walking into the kitchen on queue, his timing impeccable.

"can you read over this paragraph, please?" you kindly ask of him, pointing to your most recent written paragraph. he leans over you, planting one firm palm on the table, the other on your back; his eyes read along the sentences and his fingers tap along your spine.

"ah," his finger becomes more focused on a certain word, "wrong 'there', honey."

"no it's not..." you instantly retort, squinting your tired eyes to read over your writing. and you're right, it was the correct one the first time. this was his version of teasing you. but kento couldn't keep up the face much longer before he's giving in with a shit-eating grin you didn't see that often. "you're funny." you groan as kento stands back up.

after reading over the paragraph for about the nineteenth time, you notice kento silently slipping you some tea before turning back around to keep himself busy with cleaning. you absentmindedly take a few sips, then some more...and you find yourself becoming more and more sleepy...

and you're out like a light, forehead pressed directly against the table as a puddle of drool forms on the papers below. kento already has a warm blanket straight from the dryer to drape over you, and you stir just enough to get comfy on your arms.

kento knows that his back will hurt in the morning, but he sits around the corner of the table next to you, settling his head into his arms to drift off to sleep alongside you.

music of your taste plays rather quietly in the kitchen. you stir the pot of soup and inhale the flavorful aroma that wafts through the air.

kento sets two bowls next to the stove, then rummages through your silverware drawer to find two spoons. the kids are at their grandparents for the weekend, it's only you and your husband, converted into the duo you were long ago.

you step away from the stove to go fill up two glasses of wine, the brand kento had as his favorite had slowly turned into your favorite over time, too.

kento fills up the two bowls to the brim of the delicious food, grinning on the inside at the simplicity of it all. just you and him. he lids the pot with the matching glass top and makes his way over to the table.

you set out place mats for the both of you, then place the wine glasses in their prospective areas. kento places the bowls on top of the mats as you grab the spoons from the counter.

in the kitchen, your bodies subconsciously dance around each other. carefully, in perfect tune and pace. delicate steps of a routine formed over so much time together.

in the universe, your souls are tied, striding alongside one another in each lifetime repeated.

and this, is love.

[laceyfaeryy]

MDNI 18+

౨ৎ⠀ׄ⠀. ━ simon riley getting the love he deserves after being a loner and thinking that he was unlovable.

cw: fluff, broken simon, vaginal sex, not proof read

he was too scarred, experienced the cruelest of things in mankind after being in the military and now he was a nobody. living in a shady apartment that coincidentally had its heating broken during the winter, only having cold water running in the shower, and just having an apartment that was plain and dull. his whole life simon was convinced that he didn’t deserve anything, hence why he joined the military, to deprive himself from anything that could potentially give him happiness.

so, he had an old couch that was so damn firm he got back pain whenever he laid on it. a flimsy bed that barely fits his large frame, his legs dangling off slightly as he tried to keep himself warm in the harsh winter with the thinnest blanket ever. oh, and he didn’t take care of himself, grabbing the reheat-able meals and ramen from the convenience store after his late night shifts.

that was until he met you, his sweet little birdie that made him feel just a little warm and fuzzier inside. he was accustomed to the usual sympathetic looks on the streets, the weak smile the cashier gave him whenever he bought another bowl of ramen. but you? you didn’t care that he was broken, you viewed him as an equal.

his sweet neighbour that cooked him homemade meals for him, made him his lunch for work that made his co workers jealous and shocked at the sudden sight of simon eating a filling meal.

“where’d ya get that meal from? looks homemade,” his coworker grumbled eyeing the container in his hands. simon muttered a half ass response, he was going to keep you a secret from these dirty men.

he tried to ignore the way his heart rate increased just the slightest when he read your little notes plastered on the container, small words of encouragement as if you knew what he was currently thinking.

slowly you embedded yourself into his daily routine, inviting him for dinner as you cooked his favourite meal, whilst he fixed your table. it was something more than transactional, but neither of you spoke on it, especially simon, he didn’t want to ruin the one good thing that he had in his life.

but deep down he was secretly wondering when you were going to leave, after all - all the good things in his life seemed to go away eventually.

you didn’t though, instead you showed him things that he never thought was possible. self love, though he was dork new to it, he couldn’t help but to feel just a little more confident in himself. the way you were perched up on the tiny bathroom counter gently shaving his face whilst whispering words of affection, or the way you kissed every single one of his scars.

then came the most intimate moment of his life - sex. it wasn’t just something that was done and dusted, no. it was a ritual for the two of you. the sheets rustling as simon kissed your neck, your legs wrapped around his waist as if you wanted him closer, even though it was physically impossible. he refused to make you feel like a conquest, making you come multiple times before cleaning you up and making you your favourite meal.

the change wasn’t internal only, his apartment seemed to reflect the blooming relationship between the two of you. his old beaten up couch all new and replaced because he couldn’t stand the idea of you being uncomfortable whilst watching your favourite show. adding more shelves and storage to his bathroom as you slowly moved in, your toothbrush on the bathroom counter, your pink hair dryer on the shelf and a random vase of flowers.

simon never expected a simple domestic life with a lover, but here he was. lazy morning sex with hushed whispers and basking in each others warmth, trying to ignore the demands of the outside world. cooking breakfast together as simon wrapped his arms around your waist. kissing each other goodbye as you two left for work, your hands brushing against each other one last time.

tag list: @happysmappy @mydickishuge560 @dolli333 @madebyyicarus @l-otti @butlerslut @vampwifee @i-wanabe-yours @bluebarrybubblez @cinnamongrl2006 @akkahelenaa @yanfeiiiiii @actualpoppy @lilyalone @other-fandoms-reblogs @goonette6969

[baepsays]

cw: incubus Gojo, dub-con, borderline non-con, gloomy loner reader, exhibitionism, groping.

a/n: full length work is in the progress, please leave a comment to be added to the tag list. this will be out next month so i will let this marinate.

INCUBUS!GOJO Who latches onto gloomy and loner reader. And for the first few days he just floats around you without trying anything.

INCUBUS!GOJO just moves around you, nuzzles in your cheeks, sniffs your hair, sits beside you and twirls a strand of hair while you work. Or comes up from behind and places his head on your shoulder and stares at your face.

Until one day INCUBUS!GOJO catches you off guard by poking you in the eye, out of curiosity, because he really liked the color of your eyes, and realizes this entire time you could see him. You shriek in pain and start cursing him out. And he takes full advantage of that.

INCUBUS!GOJO Starts with just caressing you here and there. Building things up. Talking your ear off. Mostly with dirty talk.

“Ughhh I wish I was inside you right now.”

“I bet I can fit my entire cock in one go.”

“I want to eat you out and have you watch me. I bet you'll like that.”

And it takes you everything to ignore INCUBUS!GOJO 's words. While you silently sit and get more agitated and flustered with each word. As he simply leaves you tightening and rubbing your thighs together.

And god forbid INCUBUS!GOJO catches a whiff of it. “Oh shit! Did you get wet already!??? Ahhh, see I knew you were special! So sweet and sloppy, ice cream sundae has nothing on you. I would rather eat a hundred of you.” Is what he will say while he groped your thighs over your pants and runs his hands under your shirt.

INCUBUS!GOJO is a hazard to have around. From every waking moment to until you sleep. He makes you cum at least six times a day. And it is getting more annoying with the limited amount of underwear you have left to wear. But he would rather prefer you did not wear one. Better access. And takes the initiative to make you realize how much better it is to just go commando, by stealing and hiding your clean underwear as well.

INCUBUS!GOJO will sit in a seat that you're about to sit down in, then flash a big grin while patting his thighs. If you are in no position to opt for a different seat, count it as his lucky day. Once you were in a meeting, and he sat down in your designated seat at the table before you could take it. And left you no option but to sit through the entire thing on his lap.

And he made the most of it.

Roamed his hands all over your body, opened up your shirt and pulled your bra down to put your tits out on a show. And bunched up your skirt to push aside your panties and ram his cock into your hole, which is still wet and stretched out from him waking you up in the morning by eating you out and fingering you.

At that moment you were first confused why no one gave any reaction, only to later get so engrossed into the whole thing that it took your coworkers at least four times to call you out of it .

Thankfully INCUBUS!GOJO later told you that anything he does to you isn't noticeable by the ordinary eyes, except for your own reactions to him. That he told you reluctantly, because he finds it more fun to have you melt and become a nervous wreck in his arms, thinking that everyone can see you doing these obscene things. Only because you got really angry and threw salt at him thinking you might be losing your job, which made him unable to pester you for a few hours. 

INCUBUS!GOJO is the worst in public, crowded spaces. Because on your way to work, he is pressing himself against you in an already crowded train. 

“Ah, let me have my fill, sweets. Didn't even get to have my breakfast since you woke up late.” And his chest is pressed up to your tits, his one hand is holding up your leg, while the other rubs your pussy through your underwear. Which is already wet enough. So he further ruins them.

INCUBUS!GOJO will shove one finger in at first and rub it around. Watching you trying your best to not contort your face in a way that deems you as a criminal charged with public indecency.

“Aw. come on sweets. You can scream right? It's not like anyone will notice.” He will say as he shoves two more fingers inside, while his thumb rubs on your clit. And he will finger you until your station comes and you cum as well.

FULL FIC>>soon!

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

a/n: dividers by @/cafekitsune

tag list: @cheralith @madamechrissy @gojosperms @teddytoru @cuntphoric @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @rriwyu @exquisink @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @soupicidesquad @indiewritesxoxo @gojosconsort @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @slayzzz @undercvrfan444 @miizuzu @getoistic @infinitatis-ink @theorphicangel @ricecake-mochi @emochosoluvr

[millzinterlude]

Pt 1 Pt 3

What about more Autistic!Simon Riley who moved said bird into his flat. Took you hunting and showed you how to use and not use guns. Even gifted you your very own knives, one you could keep in your nightstand and the other you keep in your purse. He’s just so happy he has someone to share his interests with. You don’t bother him when more guns show up, you just watch him as he gets a feel for them. You even helps him organize the set up of them along with his knives. Rearranging them by color, weight, shape, and style (His preference) in a case you bought him. He’s really been into brass knuckles lately, you have no clue why but he says: ‘I’ dunno. Brass knuckles jus’ speak t’me. Look at ‘em. D’you think they have like a…brass knuckle and knife hybrid..?” Turns out they do, because he’s spent all night looking that up. The next week there are like two packages at the door and he sees them on the table while you’re drinking your morning smoothie. While he opens them he’s rambling about what he’s found about them. “Lovie, Did’ya know these things were invented durin’ the first World War? I mean not really, but they were like early prototypes of ‘em. Oh yeah, they’re called trench knives by the way. Made for close combat clearly, this one is a replica of one from 1918. D’ya think I can find a real one? Probably can..” He rambled to you. He was so in his element, so happy to tell you all the facts he learned, showing you the replica and comparing it to what a real one would look like. You smiled and listened to your boyfriend, even letting him show you a YouTube video he found on them. He’d already watched it a billion times, over analyzing the entire thing. Don’t let him find a real trench knife, he’s talking about it all. day. long. You’re brushing your teeth? Trench knife from 1918. Making breakfast? Trench knife from 1918. You have to go in for work? Oh yeah, the trench knife from 1918. “Si’ please tell me what you want for dinner while I’m at the store.” “Okay Lovie, but what about the trench knife?” He’s deep in your guts, bent you over, giving you the fucking of a lifetime. His body draped over your back as he grips your hair? Guess what, the fucking trench knife from 1918. And while he’s rambling about it between every grunt, he’s thrusting into you while holding said trench knife in front of your face.

[opt1mistic]

TORMENT ME 𓋜 ft. mean bbf!ellie williams

cw. nsfw, kind of exhibitionism, ellie isn’t really mean she’s just a tease, loser ellie implied bc i can’t help myself lol, reader has a brother bc duh, and is afab but gn. wc. 1.6k. based on this request

it was about 11 in the morning, you are in your kitchen getting breakfast, ‘the most important meal of the day’ they say. but you could care less about getting breakfast with this leech constantly hovering over you at a distance that should be considered too close.

ellie. where do i even start? she’s just like a stray cat, you feed her once, one time and she’s here again begging for more. but instead of feeding her once, you may have slept with her... it was one time and you were both drunk. you barely remember it. so why is she always here reminding you that she was knuckles deep inside of you?

your eyes drilling holes into the fridge, so many options, but none that fill your needs. you’re not even hungry, if you were to be honest. you just came down here to see her. as much as you hate to admit it you like ellie. you’ve always liked her. she’s been your brother's best friend since, like, forever, you can’t quite recall a moment where she wasn’t here. on the couch in your living room, your brother's room, or the kitchen, the fridge specifically.

you knew ellie liked you as well, she’s made that fact very obvious. she is constantly reminding you of it, but not in a desperate way, no, ellie isn’t desperate at all, well maybe a little, she’s just really persistent. she knows you like her so what is the problem with the two of you finally having something, at least?

your brother doesn’t even seem to care if the two of you date. because you how it’s always when you fall for your brother's best friend. the same: ‘uhhh no you can’t date my friends.’(pretend that was said with a very forced imitating voice). or something like ‘fuck no, my friends are off limits.’

but no, not with your brother. he could give less of a fuck about whatever it was going on between you and ellie.

you were the real problem here. so stubborn about admitting your feelings and so, so bratty every time ellie makes a pass at you that clearly has an effect on you.

and here she was again. you, still trying to find something to eat, mind coming up blank of mostly anything only being occupied by the toned biceps that you got a glimpse of when you walked into the kitchen. she was already there making breakfast for herself as your brother sat at the dining table with his back towards the kitchen and a pair of headphones plugged into his ears, eating what seemed to be the biggest breakfast you’ve ever seen.

you walked past her trying not to stare too hard at her arms as you made your way towards the fridge.

it’s been a good minute and a half of looking at some jar(that’s filled with something of a very strange colour…)in the fridge trying to think of what you should eat, so you decide on the same thing you have almost every morning; toast. everything you needed was already on the kitchen counter.

you whip around, fridge door slamming shut behind you. she’s still in the kitchen, you were hoping she would’ve left by the time you finished your staring contest with the insides of the fridge. and she’s got that damn lopsided smirk like she just won something. with her elbow perched up on the counter right next to the bread and butter.

“found what you were looking for in there?” ellie asks.

you roll your eyes “i wasn't looking for anything.”

it was a stupid question because she knows you weren’t pay attention to anything that laid upon the shelves of the fridge. she did, however, catch your attention on her arms. and ellie was really hoping that was what had you so distracted.

she laughs at your obviously annoyed answer. you walk over to grab a plate from the cabinet, setting it down on the counter right next to her. you reach for the bread, ellies eyes following your every movement, they have been since you entered the kitchen.

she shrugs. “could’ve fooled me. you were in there like it owed you money or something.” again with her dumb jokes, does she seriously think she’s funny?

you shoot her a sharp glance, but it only makes her grin widen.

“or maybe you were just buying time. needed a minute to cool off,” she adds, voice lower, more pointed. “you always get like that when i’m around?”

you continue trying to make your toast, putting the bread in the toaster pulling the small lever of it down watching the two pieces of bread disappear.

“bet it’s exhausting,” ellie continues. “pretending you’re not obsessed with me.”

“you’re delusional.”

“mm, probably.” you didn’t dare to look at her, to look at that grin of hers that makes you weak in the knees. “still doesn’t change the fact you’re thinking about that night every time you look at me.”

is she crazy? you slam your palms onto the counter very lightly though, afraid your brother might hear.

“what do you want, ellie?”

she leans in just a little moving behind you now, enough for you to feel her breath on your cheek and you could still see her from the corner of your eye, but still keeping your gaze on the toaster before you.

“you.”

you almost choke out a gasp, it wouldnt really sound like one anyway, more of a silent gag. you push it all down, can’t be feeding into her ego too much. and before you could respond you feel ellie’s hands grip your hips.

as soon as her palms make contact with you, your eyes fly up to look at your brother. what if he sees? is she serious right now?

her face peaking from the side of you shoulder, right next to your face. your butt is right in her crotch pressed firmly against her.

ellie leans in, her voice dropping to that stupid low whisper she knows gets under your skin.

“y’know, if you keep pressing back like that, i’m gonna start thinking you want something.”

how did i get here??????

you exhale sharply through your nose, refusing to flinch. “get your hands off me.”

“say please.”

you whip your head toward her, eyes narrowed, and for a second, she just watches you with that insufferable half-lidded gaze—like she’s already won, like she always wins.

“ellie. i’m serious.”

her grip tightens just a bit, thumbs rubbing slow circles against your hips. “so am i.”

the toaster pops.

“you’re lucky he’s got those headphones on,” you mutter, trying to pretend your hands aren’t shaking as you reach for your freshly toasted bread when you feel ellie’s hands move upward from your hips to your waist.

she snorts behind you.

“yeah?” she echoes, voice laced with something smug and hushed. “i’d be luckier if he wasn’t here at all.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, grab the toast with a little too much force to put it down on your plate. “and what? you’re still doing the same shit with him right if front is us.”

she hums, dragging her fingers just beneath the hem of your shirt, brushing the skin there. “you’re right.”

you stiffen. your breath catches.

“but i’d just be less discrete about it.”

her voice is low and honey-slick, curling against your ear like smoke. palm by palm creeping upward under your shirt more, brushing warm fingers over bare skin.

“ellie…” you warn, but it comes out breathless.

“mm,” she hums, all mock innocence, fingers dragging lightly over your ribs, “what? just warming you up. kitchen’s cold this mornin’.”

you hate how you don’t push her away. hate even more how your stomach flutters when her thumbs graze the curve of your under boobs.

you roll your eyes, lips curling in something like a smirk. “you’re so full of shit.” you almost whimper as you speak.

“maybe,” she murmurs, ducking in closer, lips brushing your jaw now, “but you’re letting me touch you.”

you scoff, but it’s weak. you’re trying not to arch into her palms when her fingertips press into your hardened nipples. and you also can’t bark anything back at her when her fingers start to play around with the buds of your nipples, pinching them, twisting them, trying to get a noise out of you.

and it works.

you moan in shame as your head looks the opposite way from ellie, who's now kissing down your neck. her palms go to grip your breasts, messaging them, needing them like dough.

“so soft…” she whispers out against your pulse.

ellie’s hands now start to make their way back down your body, feeling the hem of your bottoms dipping her thumbs under to feel the lining of your panties.

and before things could escalate any further your brother sneezes, causing you to flinch.

your body feels empty all of a sudden as ellie moves her hands off of you. you turn your face to look at her as she’s moving away from you and grabbing her plate of food and leaving you, but not before whispering “you gonna let me finish that later, or are you just gonna keep playing pretend?” into your ear.

all empty and unfulfilled. so hot and bothered, worked up, your face flushed with heat. how could she just do that and walk away like nothing happened?

but truth be told, ellie is freaking the fuck out right now. face red, mind going crazy. all she hopes for is that you let her finish later.

[songbirdseung]

you thought? / park sunghoon

how dare you think your boyfriend could ever forget your anniversary? he may be seen as a 'tsundere' but he'll never make you doubt his love and care for you.

you didn't even get the chance to overthink, to wonder, or god forbid, to shed a tear over whether sunghoon had forgotten your anniversary.

because from the moment he woke up that morning, he was already in motion. carefully detangling himself from you, he slipped out of bed with a determination that was rare for someone who usually clung to sleep like a lifeline. but today was different.

he moved quickly, yet as quietly as possible, flitting around the room as he hung up decorations, carefully arranging balloons, and scattering little celebratory touches throughout the space. every detail had to be perfect. satisfied, he rushed downstairs to prepare breakfast, moving with a frantic sort of excitement. give him credit where it's due... he was really excelling at this boyfriend thing.

with a tray balanced in his hands, he returned to the bedroom, setting it gently on the bedside table. he took a step back, scanning everything one last time, his heart pounding in anticipation. would you love it? would you smile at him with that soft, sleepy expression that made his chest tighten?

but first, he had to wake you up.

crawling back into bed, he hovered over you slightly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he admired your peaceful face. and then, with gentle affection, he began placing kisses all over your face, each one lingering just a little longer than the last.

"sunghoon?" your voice was groggy, thick with sleep, as you stirred beneath him. your brows furrowed in confusion before your eyes fluttered open, immediately locking onto his. but then, something else caught your attention. your gaze drifted past him, scanning the room, now noticeably decorated and filled with little surprises.

"happy first anniversary, beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with fondness.

his smile… that damn smile.

your heart swelled as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. when he finally pulled back, he gazed at you like you were the most precious thing in the world... because to him, you were.

"you did this?" your voice was barely above a whisper, still caught between shock and admiration.

he scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. "who else, dummy?"

before you could pout, he pinched your cheeks, grinning at how easily you reacted to his teasing. then, with careful hands, he helped you sit up against the headboard, reaching over to grab the tray of breakfast he had prepared just for you.

"now, let me spoil the hell out of you," he said, his voice laced with nothing but love.

as you settled against the headboard, sunghoon carefully placed the tray on your lap, watching your reaction with anticipation. the plate was filled with your favorite breakfast. though slightly unevenly plated, and the eggs were just a little overcooked, it was obvious how much effort he had put into making everything just right.

your heart melted.

"you really did all this?" you asked again, still in awe as you picked up the fork.

"i already answered that, dummy," he teased, nudging your shoulder before leaning back against the pillows beside you. "but yeah. you deserve it."

your face warmed at his words. sunghoon wasn’t always this openly affectionate, his love was usually hidden behind teasing remarks and playful jabs but moments like these, where he stripped away the smug exterior and just adored you? they made your heart ache in the best way.

"so... does this mean you love me or something?" you teased, smirking as you took a bite.

sunghoon scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "ew. don’t make it weird."

you laughed, almost choking on your food, and he reached out to pat your back while shaking his head. "see? this is why i bully you. keep talking like that, and i might just take all this back."

"you won’t," you said confidently, grinning at him.

"no, i won’t," he admitted, unable to help the fond smile that tugged at his lips. he leaned in, stealing a piece of your toast before settling in next to you, watching as you continued eating.

for a moment, there was only comfortable silence. the kind that came when two people just existed together, no words needed.

but then, he shifted, resting his chin on your shoulder, his voice softer now.

"seriously, though," he murmured, fingers lightly tracing patterns on your knee. "happy anniversary, baby. i mean it. i don't say it enough, but i really… really love you."

your breath hitched, heart swelling at the rare, unguarded confession. turning your head slightly, you met his gaze... no teasing, no smirk, just pure sincerity.

"i love you too, hoon," you whispered back, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

he hummed in satisfaction, squeezing your hand before snuggling closer.

"good," he mumbled against your shoulder. "now hurry up and finish eating. i have an entire day planned for us."

"oh? and what exactly are we doing?" you asked curiously.

he grinned, eyes twinkling with excitement. "not telling. it's a surprise."

[holeforzenin]

Tw - Katsuki is soo mean, rough sex, degradation n manhandling. Not proofread!

One thing about Katsuki, he's an impatient man, that's for sure. There wasn’t any “Katsuki can i try to ride you” or “pleaseee just let me do it by myself” none of that. He had enough of your shit.

He tsks mockingly, a derisive sound escaping his lips the moment his keen eyes detect that the rhythm of your alluring ass that’s bouncing on his cock becoming duller and slower. He's so fucking disappointed in himself for even giving you the chance to try and ride him.

How dumb.

What a waste of time.

He quickly grabs both of your supple asscheeks, his strong hands creating a sense of urgency as he firmly squeezes them, preventing you from moving away. He impatiently starts thrusting his hips up into you, entering you in one complete motion. The sudden force of his entire length, which you weren't even able to fit by yourself, invading your little pussy so easily made you squirm to quickly get a hold of his broad shoulders to steady yourself because you knew how fucking crazy he was when it came to with manhandling.

His crimson-red eyes locked onto your contouring features, swallowing up your adorable reactions with pure joy. He just loves bullying you like this. Katsuki was a wonderful partner, devoted, wealthy, and maybe not the most mature, but he was unquestionably aware of right from wrong when it comes to relationships. The only thing is, he’s just so so cruel and vulgar to you sometimes, especially during sex. Bakugou always had a huge ego and prideful personality so you can't say you were surprised before tangling yourself up with him.

When the early morning light streamed through the window, his routine began before even taking a bite of the breakfast you made, pumping your warm cunny full of cum before heading off to fulfill his manly responsibilities as a pro-hero. "Better keep my cum buried in this pussy, you got it?" he commanded sternly, his warm breath fanning against the delicate skin of your neck as you mewled at the harsh way the edge of the dinner table was digging into your poor abdomen. Crossing your thighs together so you could avoid any spillage of his sperm because you know he’d check when you go deliver his home-cooked lunch at his agency later in the day. And if you make one wrong move, you’ll be limping your way out of his agency.

Whether you like it or not, katsuki will always be mean when he’s fucking you. It’s a part of him, you’ve known that just by the way he acted. Always had an feisty attitude and angry issues with everyone around him but the difference is you fucking loved it, and of course he knew that, that’s why he indulges in it and constantly reminds you every single time how much of a horny little cock-whore you are, pussy slobbering uncontrollably all over his pretty cock like a nasty slut. The rim of your hole clinging onto his dick as if your life depended on it. It hasn’t even been five second since he walked through the door from work, still clad in his hero costume before his hard dick is nestled in his housewife's warm, runny sex.

Your pink panties slackly pulled to the side, revealing your tight hole for his vicious assault as he ruthlessly positioned himself to take advantage of your vulnerable state.

His gears and pants rubbing against the smooth flesh of your thighs, harshly marking it red. Poor Katsuki he couldn’t save a civilian from a villain attack today and now he’s so frustrated and mad so what better way to vent than abusing his pretty housewife’s comforting cunt? :(

“Tight fucking pussy, yer creaming all over me already. Bet you were thinking about my cock splitting you open the entire day, weren’t you princess?” He laughed tauntingly, his angry cock curving right into your g-spot making your toes curl in the air as his strong, big hands held an astonishingly tight grip on your waist to keep you off the floor while you bent over his marble counter. You always found it so sexy when Katsuki showed off his strength to you, after all, he’s one of the most strongest pro-heroes so of course he’d be unbelievably strong. You went crazy over it.

“Sukii– m’gonna fuck! Cum” you cried out, tears streaming down your eyes as his fat cock delved deeper into your core, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot over and over again, sending you into a daze as you lose your mind. “No, you fucking slut— always being such a greedy bitch. You’re not cumming until I’m ready to fill you up, ya hear me?” his tone was so serious, it sent shivers down your spine.

You quickly gripped the edge of the counter. Your soft, plush ass bouncing back against his hard pelvis with each forceful thrust. God, he loved the sight so much, he licked his lips at the delicious sight of the creamy mess you were creating, completely coating him and his balls with your juices. It made his cock throb against your walls at the lewd way your quirkless pussy was rightfully swallowing him in.

“Katsuki I–“ you stammered, struggling to find your words as fear washed over you. Your hole fluttered around him, you were seeing white at this point. Your inner muscles involuntarily clasped tightly around his length. You couldn’t help it, his cock was just so fucking long and thick, and well he knew how to skillfully use it that it made you become undone within five minutes. Your eyes bulged open with fear as the streaming white liquid from your cunt spattered onto his cock and thighs and onto his expensive marble floor. The action didn’t go unnoticed by him resulting in him quickly placing you down on the slick floor and violently smacking your fleshy ass, making it recoil against his touch as he groaned. “God, you’re such a dumb fucking slut, what did I tell you? Can’t even understand simple instructions that I give you”.

He swiftly extracted his cock from your soaked pussy and hoisted you over his huge shoulder before making his way to your shared bedroom. You cried out as your cunt twitched in anticipation as echoes of his firm, resounding spanks on your bruised ass reverberated through the room with each step he took, “M’gonna teach you a fucking lesson, better make sure this is the last time you fucking disobey me”.

[scealaiscoite]

‧₊˚ 🗣️ ✩ three hundred assorted dialogue prompts

¹⁾ “it’s too early for this.”

²⁾ “say that again, but take all the words bigger than two syllables out for me.”

³⁾ “you never came to bed last night.”

⁴⁾ “ibuprofen and a red bull is not breakfast.”

⁵⁾ “where the fuck have you been?!”

⁶⁾ “i can’t believe you told him.”

⁷⁾ “look, all i’m trying to tell you i- oh god, no, please don’t cry.”

⁸⁾ “taxi- taxi!”

⁹⁾ “i broke it off last night.”

¹⁰⁾ “no way that’s true.”

¹¹⁾ “i’m not letting you sleep on the couch in your own house.”

¹²⁾ “red’s definitely your colour.”

¹³⁾ “i don’t even want to know how the glitter got there.”

¹⁴⁾ “second time the electric’s been cut off so far.”

¹⁵⁾ “come on, the water’s fine!”

¹⁶⁾ “i’m so mad at you for this, but i’m angrier at myself for knowing i’ll forgive you for it.”

¹⁷⁾ “nice tan lines.”

¹⁸⁾ “christ, i don’t know how you drink that shit.”

¹⁹⁾ “that was the best meal i’ve eaten in years.”

²⁰⁾ “i got fired yesterday.”

²¹⁾ “are those handcuffs?!”

²²⁾ “hell of defense to put on for someone you say you don’t care about anymore.”

²³⁾ “i love you, i swear it, but not enough to watch another western.”

²⁴⁾ “just hold the ladder, and i’ll do the rest.”

²⁵⁾ “is there any chilli powder left in the cupboard, or is it all on my plate?!”

²⁶⁾ “i know what exes are, and i know you two aren’t them.”

²⁷⁾ “please, please just leave me alone.”

²⁸⁾ “neither of us are leaving this room until you tell me how you got that shiner.”

²⁹⁾ “fucking liar.”

³⁰⁾ “scooch over, i’m about to fall off.”

³¹⁾ “i nicked your shirt on my way out- i hope you don’t mind.”

³²⁾ “the cold will kill us before they can if we don’t find shelter.”

³³⁾ “just- please, can’t you see she’s in pain?!”

³⁴⁾ “a pint of coors and a passionfruit martini, plea- no, i told you, i’m not calling it that!”

³⁶⁾ “only you could crochet in a time like this.”

³⁷⁾ “they know i hate boats!”

³⁸⁾ “your mother called.”

³⁹⁾ “i can smell vodka and bubblegum toothpaste on your breath, and i’m totally sure which concerns me more.”

⁴⁰⁾ “it’s midnight, please turn off the jazz.”

⁴¹⁾ “i didn’t read that book, but i slept behind [name] in bed every night for a week while they did.”

⁴²⁾ “please, we need a doctor!”

⁴³⁾ “you’ve done shitty things to me before but you’ve never been cruel.”

⁴⁴⁾ “normally i can get behind your stress baking because of how much i benefit from it, but come on. it’s two in the night; what is a red velvet cake going to fix that some sleep won’t?”

⁴⁵⁾ “i found an earring under the passenger seat.”

⁴⁶⁾ “please, if the choice is between ice cream for breakfast or whiskey, choose the fucking ice cream.”

⁴⁷⁾ “you’re still bleeding- stop and let me look at it.”

⁴⁸⁾ “we’ve been broken up for a year now. you’ve got no right to look at me like that.”

⁴⁹⁾ “mama will be home soon, promise.”

⁵⁰⁾ “in the name of the father- “

⁵¹⁾ “i’m going to lose them either way. better they hate me and live, than love me and die.”

⁵²⁾ “you have a son?!”

⁵³⁾ “boss wants to see you.”

⁵⁴⁾ “i figured we were close, i just didn’t think it was “call me at two in the morning from a police station” kind of close.”

⁵⁵⁾ “are we just going to ignore that massive rock on your finger?”

⁵⁶⁾ “you of all people don’t get to question my parenting skills.”

⁵⁷⁾ “is that a fucking chicken?!”

⁵⁸⁾ “fuck- you’re hurting me!”

⁵⁹⁾ “mind the puddles.”

⁶⁰⁾ “you’re sick. you’re not going into work, end of story.”

⁶¹⁾ “what on earth are you wearing?!”

⁶²⁾ “she’s too old for you.”

⁶³⁾ “you play mario kart like it’s your first day on earth.”

⁶⁴⁾ “you’re gonna break an ankle walking in those heels.”

⁶⁵⁾ “if it was important, you would’ve remembered i don’t answer fucking calls!”

⁶⁶⁾ “late night?”

⁶⁷⁾ “i’m terrified.”

⁶⁸⁾ “i’ll call you when i land, yeah?”

⁶⁹⁾ “try and get some sleep, pet.”

⁷⁰⁾ “where is that blood coming from?!”

⁷¹⁾ “it is sheeps or sheepses?” 

⁷²⁾ “so you can fold a paper crane from a candy wrapper, but you don’t know your times tables.”

⁷³⁾ “clerk said they only have one room left.”

⁷⁴⁾ “why did you get an apartment on the eighth fucking floor?”

⁷⁵⁾ “it’s snowing!”

⁷⁶⁾ “when the shooting starts, stay down and only look at me, okay?”

⁷⁷⁾ “how fucking dare you- i am married.”

⁷⁸⁾ “we should be safe here.”

⁷⁹⁾ “i’m at the store, what kind of monster did you want again? and don’t say ultra violet, i’m not bringing that filth into the house.”

⁸⁰⁾ “the cat misses you.”

⁸¹⁾ “i’ve been having nightmares again.”

⁸²⁾ “i can practically hear your stomach growling. come fill up a plate.”

⁸³⁾ “i’m proud of you, kid.”

⁸⁴⁾ “are you sure you’re not mad at me?”

⁸⁵⁾ “please don’t tell me you lost it.”

⁸⁶⁾ “wanna pick the movie?”

⁸⁷⁾ “bit late for boxing, no?”

⁸⁸⁾ “i don’t care if it’s harmless, kill it!!”

⁸⁹⁾ “if you so much as look in their direction again, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

⁹⁰⁾ “do you wanna go out sometime?”

⁹¹⁾ “is- is that [name]’s shirt?”

⁹²⁾ “c’mon, sit with me a minute.”

⁹³⁾ “good boy!”

⁹⁴⁾ “no, fuck- i can’t swim!”

⁹⁵⁾ “your friends are unbearable.”

⁹⁶⁾ “oh, kill me now.”

⁹⁷⁾ “can i bum a light?”

⁹⁸⁾ “just listen to me for once in your life!”

⁹⁹⁾ “someone call an ambulance!”

¹⁰⁰⁾ “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you in pink before.”

¹⁰¹⁾ “i told you i was done talking about it.”

¹⁰²⁾ “the lock’s broken- i think someone’s inside.”

¹⁰³⁾ “you kept it.”

¹⁰⁴⁾ “i have somewhere to be; make it quick.”

¹⁰⁵⁾ “you’re unbelievable.”

¹⁰⁶⁾ “they never meant anything to you, did they?”

¹⁰⁷⁾ “is the point of giving me such bad advice to force me into seeing an actual therapist?”

¹⁰⁸⁾ “your smile makes my day.” 

¹⁰⁹⁾ “how do you remember where all my jewellery goes?”

¹¹⁰⁾ “… but you’re definitely nothing more than coworkers. sure.”

¹¹¹⁾ “i’ve been waiting for this my whole life.”

¹¹²⁾ “can i help with your hair?”

¹¹³⁾ “i always forget how pretty the city looks at night.”

¹¹⁴⁾ “the dog, for all his failings, did not do that and i’m taking it personally on his part that you’re trying to claim he did.”

¹¹⁵⁾ “you have many strengths; all i’m saying is that parallel parking is not one of them.”

¹¹⁶⁾ “let me drive you home.”

¹¹⁷⁾ “thanks for bringing me in on this ritual of yours.”

¹¹⁸⁾ “what time do you have to be at court?”

¹¹⁹⁾ “do you, uh- do you maybe wanna get dinner, sometime? like, with me?”

¹²⁰⁾ “i’m- *achoo* a-allergic to one kind of- *achoo* of flowers in the whole world, and you- *cough* really m-manage to pick them out for me?”

¹²¹⁾ “table for three, please.”

¹²²⁾ “you’re getting so grey. i’m kind of liking it.”

¹²³⁾ “of course i noticed.”

¹²⁴⁾ “hey, quit forcing yourself to talk before you lose your voice altogether.”

¹²⁵⁾ “please, please wake up.”

¹²⁶⁾ “was anything you said true?”

¹²⁷⁾ “get in the fucking car!”

¹²⁸⁾ “where’d you get that?”

¹²⁹⁾ “you put me through so much, and still all i can think about is how i’d do it all again if you asked me to.”

¹³⁰⁾ “i’ll stay while you sleep. nothing’s gonna happen while i’m here, okay?”

¹³¹⁾ “you said you wanted to talk it out but all you’re doing is shouting at me!”

¹³²⁾ “we broke up a few days ago. i guess i was too embarrassed to tell you after you warned me about them.”

¹³³⁾ “family don’t pull this kind of shit on each other.”

¹³⁴⁾ “i phoned in sick. i’m yours for the day, if you’ll have me.”

¹³⁵⁾ “i’ll make the reservation, you just worry about turning up looking half as good as you do right now.”

¹³⁶⁾ “that’s still how you take your tea, isn’t it?”

¹³⁷⁾ “stop throwing those damn paper planes at me!”

¹³⁸⁾ “i’m so c-cold.”

¹³⁹⁾ “… i can hear meowing.”

¹⁴⁰⁾ “want some?”

¹⁴¹⁾ “fuck all of them, anyway.”

¹⁴²⁾ “i could look at your tattoos all day.”

¹⁴³⁾ “ever considered sending me flowers without a keycard for a hotel room tucked inside?”

¹⁴⁴⁾ “i made coffee.”

¹⁴⁵⁾ “c’mon, sit with me a minute.”

¹⁴⁶⁾ “fuck, they’re gonna flank us- get someone on the south wall, now!”

¹⁴⁷⁾ “christ, get up.”

¹⁴⁸⁾ “put some pants on.”

¹⁴⁹⁾ “it’s over!”

¹⁵⁰⁾ “not another broken bed frame.”

¹⁵¹⁾ “that thong really brings out your eyes.”

¹⁵²⁾ “you’ve already stolen from me; don’t twist the knife by lying about it, too.”

¹⁵³⁾ “... i thought you locked the back door.”

¹⁵⁴⁾ “they were saying awful things about you. every last one of them had it coming.”

¹⁵⁵⁾ “so you had a can of monster and a pack of sour patch kids for breakfast eight hours ago, and you really don’t understand why you have a headache?”

¹⁵⁶⁾ “i think someone’s in the house.”

¹⁵⁷⁾ “walk me home?”

¹⁵⁸⁾ “this song reminds me of you.”

¹⁵⁹⁾ “can you pick up some eggs on your way home?”

¹⁶⁰⁾ “i’ve got a flat tire.”

¹⁶¹⁾ “you broke his fucking nose!”

¹⁶²⁾ “do you remember the room number?”

¹⁶³⁾ “i can’t see anything.”

¹⁶⁴⁾ “lab results are back.”

¹⁶⁵⁾ “is it really so hard to pick up the damn phone when i call?”

¹⁶⁶⁾ “don’t you dare run.”

¹⁶⁷⁾ “bulleit, please. neat.”

¹⁶⁸⁾ “will you marry me?”

¹⁶⁹⁾ “how did you get tickets?!”

¹⁷⁰⁾ “your tie’s all crooked.”

¹⁷¹⁾ “license and insurance, please.”

¹⁷²⁾ “i’ll get a nurse in to do your sutures, and then we’ll send you on your way.”

¹⁷³⁾ “you’re a dead man.”

¹⁷⁴⁾ “you’re the worst thing to ever happen to me.”

¹⁷⁵⁾ “no, this is her secretary. i can take a message, if you’d like?”

¹⁷⁶⁾ “the money’s gone.”

¹⁷⁷⁾ “yeah, but it’ll cost you.”

¹⁷⁸⁾ “we need to find that phone.”

¹⁷⁹⁾ “can i crash here tonight?”

¹⁸⁰⁾ “i, um… i saw you. online.”

¹⁸¹⁾ “what do you mean husband?!”

¹⁸²⁾ “the fire’s growing- we need to keep moving.”

¹⁸³⁾ “your lipstick’s all over me!”

¹⁸⁴⁾ “four broken ribs… fuck.”

¹⁸⁵⁾ “what happened in shanghai?”

¹⁸⁶⁾ “you and these awful horror movies!”

¹⁸⁷⁾ “next door’s cat is back. do you remember where i put the kibble?”

¹⁸⁸⁾ “glitter and faux fur. classy.”

¹⁸⁹⁾ “since when were you blonde?!”

¹⁹⁰⁾ “do i even want to know?”

¹⁹¹⁾ “we were by a river. that’s all i remember.”

¹⁹²⁾ “please, let me call you a cab.”

¹⁹³⁾ “my hands are killing me, get these damn zipties off.”

¹⁹⁴⁾ “you don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to.”

¹⁹⁵⁾ “i read your last article. you’re not half bad at this shit.”

¹⁹⁶⁾ “is now a bad time to say i’m afraid of heights.”

¹⁹⁷⁾ “- quick, hide!”

¹⁹⁸⁾ “test came back negative.”

¹⁹⁹⁾ “say, ah.”

²⁰⁰⁾ “some friends they turned out to be.”

²⁰¹⁾  “you look oddly good in sequins.”

²⁰²⁾ “now there’s a headline: murder in mittens.”

²⁰³⁾ “we need to swab your hands for gunpowder residue.”

²⁰⁴⁾ “black, three sugars.” 

²⁰⁵⁾ “i need you to listen to me, okay? this cannot happen again. ever.”

²⁰⁶⁾ “we shouldn’t be here.”

²⁰⁷⁾ “if you’re going to be such a die-hard fan, could you please start picking better teams? for my sake?”

²⁰⁸⁾ “… did you make me a packed lunch?”

²⁰⁹⁾ “i got a little bit stabbed.”

²¹⁰⁾ “no, it’s too late; you’re not walking home alone.”

²¹¹⁾ “i don’t care if she’s ten, she cannot be led to believe that derek is an acceptable name for a cat!”

²¹²⁾ “they were just here.”

²¹³⁾ “oh captain, my captai- “

²¹⁴⁾ “come to my room in ten.”

²¹⁵⁾ “no part of this was in the training manual.”

²¹⁶⁾ “i think i’m gonna lie down for a bit.”

²¹⁷⁾ “i can’t come out tonight, i’ve got to re-pot my roses.”

²¹⁸⁾ “you kick like an ass in your sleep.” 

²¹⁹⁾ “i think we kissed.”

²²⁰⁾ “i never want to be a burden to you.”

²²¹⁾ “there’s someone in the trees.”

²²²⁾ “where’s that smoke coming from?”

²²³⁾ “my sheets smell like you.”

²²⁴⁾ “what did sarge say?”

²²⁵⁾ “the funeral’s at ten.”

²²⁶⁾ “she’s asystolic.” 

²²⁷⁾ “it’s too loud in here. i’m going to start biting people.”

²²⁸⁾ “give it back!”

²²⁹⁾ “don’t make me call the cops!”

²³⁰⁾ “we tried everything. i’m sorry.”

²³¹⁾ “another round?”

²³²⁾ “come on the carousel with me, and i’ll think about it.”

²³³⁾ “this is why we didn’t stay married.”

²³⁴⁾ “i like your hair.”

²³⁵⁾ “homicide are on the way.”

²³⁶⁾ “i just ran.”

²³⁷⁾ “want a drink?”

²³⁸⁾ “i’m scared of the things i feel for you.”

²³⁹⁾ “can you remember anything about last night?”

²⁴⁰⁾ “you left this at mine.”

²⁴¹⁾ “i made us a reservation.”

²⁴²⁾ “pass the goddamn ball!”

²⁴³⁾ “someone cut the brake lights.”

²⁴⁴⁾ “wanna come to vegas with me?”

²⁴⁵⁾ “… did you use my body wash?”

²⁴⁶⁾ “go shower, then we’ll talk.”

²⁴⁷⁾ “how dare you say something like that to me!”

²⁴⁸⁾ “there’s a letter for you.”

²⁴⁹⁾ “i need to see you. now.”

²⁵⁰⁾ “i’ll kick this fucking door open!”

²⁵¹⁾ “don’t look at me like that.”

²⁵²⁾ “i can’t do this anymore.”

²⁵³⁾ “got a light?”

²⁵⁴⁾ “i don’t care if we both get hypothermia, i’m not sharing a sleeping bag with you!”

²⁵⁵⁾ “do you hate me?”

²⁵⁶⁾ “please don’t leave.”

²⁵⁷⁾ “i’m sorry i missed dinner.”

²⁵⁸⁾ “i have a name, and it’s sure as hell not kid.”

²⁵⁹⁾ “you are a grown man, don’t pout.”

²⁶⁰⁾ “ah, look who’s awake.”

²⁶¹⁾ “if you’re after a ransom, i’m sorry to say you picked the wrong person.”

²⁶²⁾ “don’t you dare track all that sawdust in here! leave your boots at the door.”

²⁶³⁾ “if you’re not here to pay my tab, you can leave.”

²⁶⁴⁾ “you’re so warm.”

²⁶⁵⁾ “bit kinky for a monday morning, don’t you think?”

²⁶⁶⁾ “not again!”

²⁶⁷⁾ “i think i pulled something.”

²⁶⁸⁾ “kiss me.”

²⁶⁹⁾ “watcha reading?”

²⁷⁰⁾ “i ordered room service. possibly on your card.”

²⁷¹⁾ “this isn’t gonna work out.”

²⁷²⁾ “i saved you a seat.”

²⁷³⁾ “the dog got ahold of your scarf.”

²⁷⁴⁾ “i want to see my son.”

²⁷⁵⁾ “my friend’s an ass, i’m sorry.”

²⁷⁶⁾ “please, she could scare the balls off a brass monkey with a single look.”

²⁷⁷⁾ “you’re an almerciful pain the ass.”

²⁷⁸⁾ “give my compliments to the chef.”

²⁷⁹⁾ “wanna catch a movie at the weekend?”

²⁸⁰⁾ “you said i only had to stay for an hour- you got an hour and seven minutes! what more could you possibly want from me?!”

²⁸¹⁾ “i think i left my phone at the bar.”

²⁸²⁾ “... why is there a pool noodle in the hall?”

²⁸³⁾ “can you turn the lights off?”

²⁸⁴⁾ “was any of it real?”

²⁸⁵⁾ “do i want to know how you got that nickname.”

²⁸⁶⁾ “you’re like if an angel had a very severe ketamine problem.”

²⁸⁷⁾ “i think i fucked up my ankle last night.”

²⁸⁸⁾ “take the sunglasses off.”

²⁸⁹⁾ “i don’t know how i’m going to forgive you for this.”

²⁹⁰⁾ “i can’t believe i fell for this shit again.”

²⁹¹⁾ “morning, killer.”

²⁹²⁾ “who names a goldfish andrew?”

²⁹³⁾ “... i could’ve sworn you had too eyebrows last time we spoke.”

²⁹⁴⁾ “i’m scared shitless of dolls.”

²⁹⁵⁾ “how’d you get the shiner?”

²⁹⁶⁾ “here, let me help.”

²⁹⁷⁾ “look, my tomatoes are finally ripe!”

²⁹⁸⁾ “you can hold my hand, if it’d help.”

²⁹⁹⁾ “i brought you croissants. as like, um, an olive branch.”

³⁰⁰⁾ “do you trust me?”