#the scarfs is a hint! keep that in mind

[manymanyjerrys]

For all: What are your comfort items (if you have any)?

J-666: One of my Beth's old hoodies she doesn't use anymore. ...Don't ask. >:(

8-FG21: I mean... Not really an item but my cats :3

5-S8F3: A nice teal scarf I've had for years... It just feels nice.

5-S8F3(L): *He holds up a plushie of a baby penguin* This :>

10-JHI7: I mean... Do stress balls count?

[joonipertree]

Sugar Daddy Boxer! Bakugo Katsuki x college student gn!reader

Tags: Age gap! Bakugo is 27, reader is 22. fluff, protective bakugo, attentive bakugo, he's a boxer because I said so <3

Bro i finished this with my wrist bandaged up. The things I'd do for my anime men.

Pt 2. Pt 3

Feel free to send in requests/prompts for this AU!

"Babydoll."

....

"Babydoll."

You finally hummed, unwrapping the woollen scarf that pillowed your face. It did an amazing job to keep you warm in the cold abyss of the early morning winter but was useless in your boyfriend's heated sports car.

You let yourself unfurl, letting the warmth melt you.

"Did you sleep properly?"

"Yeah." you said with a yawn, ready to turn your brain off again.

"I'm gonna ask you how many hours and you're telling me the truth."

You made eye contact with Katsuki, who still hadn't left the front of your building mind you, and reached out for your morning kisses.

"First, answer then kisses."

You whined and squirmed before huffing into stillness when you realised he was too mean to give into you.

"Six hours."

Katsuki's already furrowed eyebrows furrowed even more but he leaned forward to kiss your puckered lips. They were warm and firm and tasted like strawberry chapstick. And the hint of your cologne wafted through you, making you sigh into him.

Katsuki tugged your lower lip into his mouth, suckling on it before letting go and kissing the corner of your lips.

"We agreed on eight, baby."

"I was doing my homework, silly."

"Was this before or after your fanfiction reading time?"

You grinned, pawing at his chest as you leaned in for another chaste kiss.

"Look at you learning, old man. It was before."

Katsuki rolled his eyes, squeezing your thigh with his rough hand before finally deciding to start the car.

"Where do you wanna get breakfast from? You're not getting a coffee, by the way."

"Excuse m---"

"Nuh uh, little one." Katsuki looked at you with an eyebrow raise. "You didn't sleep as much as you should've and it already makes you jittery."

You crossed your arms and huffed, burying yourself deeper into the leather. And you knew that you'd just say something stupid and get yourself in even more trouble, so your mouth stayed shut. Katsuki didn't bother asking again, already knowing that there was a chocolate croissant and Acai bowl that had you hooked.

He made his way into the store quickly, your body not ready to get out to the fanged monster that the winter brought. And it meant you got the wonderful opportunity to see people actively stare at your boyfriend.

It didn't matter when he didn't even bother making eye contact, hands deep in his pockets and resting bitch face on. Two boys came up to him in an excited manner that wasn't fit for early morning. And while Bakugo scowled harder, he still had the courtesy to give them his autograph. You knew that if they weren't highschool students, he'd tell them to fuck off. Bakugo never became aggressive with kids.

Once the order was handed to him, he slipped the tip into the jar at the counter. And since the man never carried change, the barista's face had twisted into shell shock. But Bakugo didn't even acknowledge it and left the premises, making his way back to you.

You were handed the croissant and Acai bowl, nose filling with pleasant scents that warmed you even further into the seat. Katsuki took a sip of his black coffee before handing you your own cup.

"It's very much decaf but I know you like your caramel macchiato."

You squealed at the gesture, not surprised that he was soft for you, and leaned in to give a big wet smooch to his cheek. His smile was evident, even when he tried to keep it hidden.

"I need to stop spoiling you."

He never did.

By the time you'd finished your drink and croissant, your uni had come into view. And as always, some people eyed the Chevrolet Corvette that your boyfriend drove. black exterior glittering in the morning sun.

After a couple affectionate kisses littered across Bakugo's face and a very long kiss on the lips, you got out of your car in your sweats and puffer jacket.

Your friends were waiting by the entrance, having come at the same time, they greeted you while eyeing the car. They knew it belonged to your boyfriend but they never knew what your boyfriend even did to be sports car rich.

"Hello, my children," You muttered out, blinking slowly as you put your scarf over your nose.

"Hey, dude. How did your--" One of your friends began to talk to you while you all walked to class. But after a good fifteen steps, you heard someone call your name.

"Oi." The gruff voice filled your ears.

The three of you turned around and your friends had been left bamboozled.

Because lo and behold, Bakugo Katsuki had graced them with his presence.

The man just held up a green canvas bag, his finger being the only thing to hold the straps. You gasped and ran to grab it, making sure to check the contents as if afraid that you forgot to put your precious artwork before you left your apartment.

"Thank you thank you thank you, 'suki." You muttered, getting on your tippy toes to kiss his nose and mouth. You had to put your hand on rock hard muscle to stabilise yourself and the pressure didn't effect him one bit. He just cupped your face and deepened the kiss before placing one on your forehead.

"Stop being a dumbfuck and sleep on time. And show me what you made when I pick you up."

Bakugo started going back to his car, not caring for the stares your friends were throwing at him. They were chill, so he's heard. Katsuki was too anti social to get first hand experience.

"My guy."

When you turned, your guy friend had grabbed you by the shoulder and shook you vigorously.

"Your rich fucking boyfriend is a WBA fighter. Dude!"

"Yeah!! He's super cool right?"

"He's a fucking god but that's besides the point." Your friend looked more and more erratic.

"Yeah and that god is giving you a death glare. Better get your hands off them, bro. You've seen the amount of blood his opponents lose." Your other friend interjected, already pulling him off of you. He looked pale.

You turned and saw Katsuki stand like a statue, hands in his pockets and eyes hardened. His teeth were gritted which worried you since he already had a bad jaw. Students were swerving away like two rivers, his body like a jagged mountain in the middle.

Your double thumbs up and wide grin was the only thing that broke him out of his stance, shoulders relaxing and jaw releasing from its hold. Katsuki scanned the two men for a few more seconds before he turned and left with a wave of his hand.

"Fuck, I don't think I'll be able to breathe properly all day."

You turned with a skip in your step, happy to have seen your boyfriend for a few extra seconds in the morning.

"He's like a doberman. Such a cutie pie."

"I feel like that's an accurate description considering he would bite our heads off but only let you pet him."

"I see no cuteness in that man."

[amirasainz]

Hi I love your work. I was wondering if you could write one where baby sainz only likes being around Rebecca and Alexandra when she's not with her family.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

Safe space

Carlos leaned against the garage wall, arms crossed as he watched his sister, Amira, from a distance. The bright lights and buzzing atmosphere of the paddock seemed to envelop her like a whirlwind. Even though she was shy by nature, her presence radiated a kind of quiet charm that made her the center of attention wherever she went. It wasn’t just the fans; drivers, team members, journalists — everyone wanted to steal a glance, get a smile, or hear a word from the younger Sainz.

But despite the admiration, everyone in the paddock knew Amira was reserved. She preferred to stay close to Carlos, rarely venturing far from him or their father during race weekends. Her wide, doe-like eyes would search for him in the crowd when she was overwhelmed, and Carlos would always be there to reassure her with a warm smile and a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.

Over time, however, someone else had started to catch Amira's eye — someone who wasn’t family but felt like she could be. Rebecca, Carlos’s girlfriend, had gradually earned Amira’s trust, giving her the kind of warmth and protection that the young woman craved amidst the chaotic world of Formula 1.

It started with the little things. Amira would glance around nervously, lost in the crowd, and there Rebecca would be, standing beside her, a reassuring hand on her arm. Rebecca was older and had an innate calmness about her that soothed Amira. She made sure Amira was comfortable, brought her a warm jacket when the paddock got chilly, handed her bottles of water or small snacks, and kept eager fans at bay with just a polite but firm look.

And then, there was the incident.

Amira had gotten separated from Carlos after a press event. The fans were closer than usual, crowding around her, each person trying to get a piece of her attention. She felt her pulse quicken, her breath shallow, and she looked around for Carlos, desperately.

But before Carlos could even move toward her, Rebecca was already there. She stepped in, wrapping her arms around Amira and pulling her close, creating a bubble of safety between them and the crowd. Amira didn’t resist; she melted into Rebecca’s embrace, burying her face in the older woman’s shoulder, finding solace in her presence.

“I’ve got you, darling,” Rebecca whispered softly, gently running her hand up and down Amira’s back. She was calm, commanding, effortlessly making it clear to the people around that Amira needed space.

Carlos finally reached them, concern etched across his face. “Hey, Amira,” he started, relieved but worried. “You okay?”

Rebecca tightened her hold just a little, almost protective, and gave Carlos a playful, challenging look. “I don’t know, Carlos. I might just keep her with me for a while.” She spoke softly to Amira, her voice dripping with warmth. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Amira looked up, her face still close to Rebecca’s. She gave a small smile, one that hinted at gratitude, and shook her head slightly. Carlos raised an eyebrow, amused but appreciative. His little sister had finally found someone outside the family who she could trust implicitly.

As the day went on, Rebecca kept Amira close by her side, arm casually draped over her shoulders. She made sure Amira was comfortable, offering her drinks, snacks, or a warm scarf when the breeze picked up. Amira felt protected, almost treasured, in a way that was new yet familiar. She glanced up at Rebecca occasionally, shy but grateful, the same way she looked at Carlos or their father.

And from then on, it was an unspoken understanding in the paddock: Amira Sainz was family, and if Carlos wasn’t by her side, Rebecca would be. Fans and drivers alike watched with quiet admiration. They knew that the young woman who once seemed untouchable and distant now had someone by her side who wasn’t bound by family, but by a deep, gentle care.

Carlos often caught glimpses of Rebecca tucking Amira’s hair behind her ear or shielding her from the more intense crowds with an arm around her shoulders. It was a bond that had formed quietly, a connection that had grown so naturally that it almost surprised him.

One evening, as the team celebrated in the paddock, Carlos watched his sister resting against Rebecca’s shoulder, her eyes half-closed with a content smile on her face. He caught Rebecca’s eye, and she gave him a gentle, knowing smile. There was no need for words; they both knew Amira was safe, cared for — a princess of Formula 1 who had found her protector.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 17: "I hate it" "No, you don't"

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

It was late when you received the call from your boyfriend. It wasn’t unusual for him to call and ask if he could spend the night at your place after work (when there wasn’t a case that took him to another state), and of course, you gladly accepted, eager to see him for a bit longer. Your relationship was relatively new, just past the six-month mark, but Spencer’s noble and chivalrous character had allowed you to trust him quickly enough to let him into your space.

You had met in a book club, and he had captivated you with his analysis of "Man's Search for Meaning" by Viktor Frankl. His eloquence, the way his hands moved, that whole vibe of an intelligent college student... it was inevitable that you would approach him to talk. That’s how you both started chatting occasionally, and as the months passed, what was meant to happen, happened.

“Good night,” you murmured softly as you saw him standing at your door. “Come in.”

He smiled widely when you took his hand to guide him inside, and he made sure to respond to your greeting. The first thing he did was take his briefcase off his shoulder and place it on one of your wooden chairs, accompanied by his checkered scarf.

“Were you already asleep?”

“No, I’m just finishing some things. You know, my thesis work and all that,” you exclaimed, lacking much enthusiasm.

Not everyone was a genius like him, so if Spencer wanted to hang out with people his age, he had to endure the academic struggles of a college student.

“Poor you.”

You enjoyed his compassion, and it was at that moment that you moved closer to hug him, a contact he reciprocated with great pleasure. You didn’t want to be rude enough to say it out loud, but from the very first moment you formalized your relationship, you realized how starved he was for touch. And not explicitly in a sexual sense, but simply to be caressed in any way. To someone from his usual circle, it would have seemed extremely strange that Dr. Reid, so well known for his aversion to germs, constantly sought out someone’s hand, asking for kisses on the lips or pleading for a warm hug.

When he told you, slightly embarrassed, that you were his first girlfriend, some things started to make sense in your mind. But it was sweet if you thought about it because it meant he was choosing you to teach him many things about love.

To be honest, you were willing to give him whatever he wanted. After all, he was a good-hearted guy who devoted himself to adoring you, a type you don’t find easily. And it had to be said that his intelligence wasn’t the only trait you had noticed, as his physical attributes were also quite (too) appealing.

Once you both felt satisfied with the contact, you separated, and then you looked at him with a smile.

“How was work?”

“Same old,” he expressed as you guided him to one of the dining chairs where you had been working. “Today we did reports and reviewed some cold cases, just in case we could still help in some way.”

“That must be so exhausting. I wouldn’t have the willpower.”

“For what?”

“To endure so many cases. To know how horrible humanity can be and keep going as if nothing’s wrong.”

“Everything leaves its mark, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

There was a hint of pain hidden behind those words that made you feel compassion for his work. He tried to keep you at a distance from everything that was happening to him, and he still didn’t dare confess many of the things that troubled him at night. He didn’t want to scare you, of course; that’s why he thought it prudent to wait a little longer in the relationship.

After all, if you truly loved him, it would be with all those flaws and traumatic events that his life entailed.

“Well, I admire you for helping capture those despicable people.”

Your sincere tone was pleasant to your boyfriend’s ears, and he thanked you with a smile that spoke volumes.

Suddenly, your gaze drifted to the laptop on the table, and he hurried to murmur:

“Do you want to continue? I don’t mean to disturb your schedule.”

“Doesn’t bother you?”

“Not at all.”

“I have to submit a progress report this week, analyze some data, strengthen the theoretical part…” You sighed, letting yourself drop into the chair, ready to continue with the task. “Have you eaten yet? You can go to the kitchen and prepare whatever you like. The place is yours.”

Spencer took you up on your offer, and while you continued typing away on your laptop, he took the liberty of preparing something light for dinner and serving it on two separate plates.

When he finished, he brought them over to you, placing your plate beside you in silence. You murmured a small thank you, and he ate while seated in one of the adjacent spaces, watching you from time to time simply because he liked you so much.

At some point, he gathered your empty dishes and carried them to the sink, washing them himself. He was so sweet.

“Do you need help with anything? You know I don’t mind,” he offered.

At that, he stood behind you, able to embrace you since you were sitting in a rather unnatural position in your chair, and the wooden backrest wasn’t a hindrance.

“I need a new brain; this one’s dried out.”

Spencer laughed at the exaggeration, knowing that it was impossible, and shortly afterward, he left a kiss on your cheek. A small giggle escaped you as you felt his hands sliding toward your waist, knowing what was coming next.

“Spencer…”

“Yes?” he replied innocently, as if he didn’t know what he was doing.

Doing that had become a constant habit since he discovered that you were extremely ticklish. Literally, every time he placed his hands on you, you would burst into laughter.

“Spencer,” you repeated, more seriously this time.

But in the smile you wore, he saw that your threats didn’t really carry any weight. Carefully, the tips of his fingers began to drum against your waist, your belly, the area of your ribs. Simultaneously, his lips began to leave fleeting kisses on any skin they could reach: your cheeks, neck, jaw, shoulder.

The room filled with laughter from both of you as a sort of game ensued, where he tried his best to tickle you, and you desperately attempted to escape him. His face was buried in your neck, and you had lifted your legs onto the chair in a futile attempt to defend yourself.

It wasn’t until you gasped for air, complaining that you couldn’t breathe, that he finally showed you mercy and stopped. You inhaled heavily, trying to catch your breath, and even though he stopped touching you, he didn't move away.

“I hate it!”

“No, you don’t.”

It was obvious that you didn’t hate it. You both knew it, and it was a silent pact that this kind of playfulness was part of your love language as a couple. Every time Spencer held you in his arms, he felt he was holding the world —his world— because after so much time, he felt he had something to love and to be loved by. You were his treasure.

He kept hugging you from behind, exhaling warm air into the crook of your neck. When you were finally able to calm down, you turned slightly to ask for a kiss on the lips. He gladly obliged.

“You know? I think I’ll leave this for tomorrow. For now, I just want to rest…” you continued, closing your eyes and stealing another kiss. “Take a bath, spend time with you…”

“But you have to work on your research.”

“And how can I do that if you’re here? Everything about you distracts me,” you complained, raising one of your hands to hold his cheek and receiving a kiss as a reward.

“What if we do it together? It’ll be good for both of us; I want to distract my mind.”

“Only a brainiac relaxes with data analysis,” you huffed playfully, and he scattered another kiss before pulling away. “But I accept, with the condition that afterward we only focus on sleeping.”

“Deal.”

You didn’t know how lottery winners felt. But you assumed it was something similar to what you experienced every time you looked at Spencer.

[heechwe]

canine intuition | 𝐬𝐣𝐲

୨୧ pairing: sim (jake) jaeyun x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 1.4k ୨୧ genre: fluff, hints of comedy ୨୧ tags: established relationship, marriage!au, expecting!reader, layla's basically the smartest girl in the room ୨୧ synopsis: Sometimes your dog knows what's going on before you do. And shenanigans ensue when she uses her knowledge to protect you, whether you want her to or not. ➸ For the birthday boy and his beautiful fur baby ♡

“Layla, you’re not coming back inside until you use the bathroom, missy,” you warn the pup. With her head angled to the side, staring up at you in confusion, she must be wondering why you’re refusing to let her back into the house. And you typically would cave if it weren’t for the fact it wasn’t so early in the morning.

When you began dating Jake, you wondered if and how Layla would warm up to you. It scared you more than meeting his parents, if you were being honest. Canines, like their feline counterparts, had a supernatural intuition about people. If she didn’t like you, what did that say about where your relationship would end up in a few months?

Luckily, you both got on perfectly. The two of you were practically thick as thieves by the time Jake proposed and eventually added the wedding band to your finger.

Now, with a beautiful house and adjoining backyard, walks with Layla have become a less-frequent occurrence. She gets more than enough exercise in her new, grassy oasis. It’s only when she needs to go out and come in that either you or Jake have to get up and tend to her physically.

Today, though, she has yet to use the bathroom. Jake had to head out early for a meeting with his business partners and left you to take over the household duties.

Despite your orders, she doesn’t seem to budge on her stance to come back inside. Her persistence mirrors her father’s to the letter, making you smile.

“Layla, once you use the bathroom then I’ll—“ You feel a sudden rush of bile hit the back of your throat, causing you to press your hand to your mouth. Was it the coffee you just drank, or the quick breakfast burrito you scarfed down before letting Layla out?

“I might have to—“ The next second, you’re running to the bathroom at lightning speed. Your knees slam against the tile floor as you bury your head inside the toilet, the contents of your stomach emptied out in a second. Layla scratches on the back door with rapid paws. You can hear a whine behind the screen as you wipe your face with a piece of toilet paper.

Layla runs through the door once you’ve cleaned yourself up, and she jumps up to check on you in an instant. Her paws press lightly on your stomach, her head tilted again at that signature angle when she’s concerned.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m alright.” You scratch her behind the ears, hoping to appease her anxiety. There are lingering traces of queasiness, but you decide to rest on the couch for a while in hopes of making it go away. Layla doesn’t leave your side for the rest of the morning, forgoing her breakfast to keep her head nestled warmly in your lap.

Layla’s odd behavior continues into the next day.

It’s a modern marvel for Jake to leave work early. Client meetings run long enough as it is, so getting alone time with him at this point in his career is a gift you contable treasure.

You’re cooking a quick lunch for the two of you when Jake wraps his arms around you. Your husband presses sloppy kisses into your neck, his hands exploring your body as he holds you snug against him.

“Honey,” you chide him, trying to mix the macaroni in the pot without letting any stick to the bottom. It will be a bitch to clean—and much less scrape out—if you don’t keep a close eye on it. He knows this, but he clearly has other plans on his mind.

“We can eat later. Right now, I’d rather have dessert,” Jake whispers into the crook of your neck. He reaches around you to turn the stove off, his mind made up.

When you turn around to face him, you’re met with his signature grin, the cheshire cat smile that made you fall in love with him without much effort plastered across his face.

“Maybe I wanted to eat mac and cheese, how about that?” You counter as you run your fingers under his shirt. His skin is warm to the touch, the ripples of his muscles igniting a fire deep in your stomach.

“I think I can change your mind,” he teases.

When he grazes his lips against yours, pressing you harder against him, that’s when Layla loses it.

She begins barking loudly at her father, making him immediately take his hands from your body to lean down to her level. She stands in between you two with fierce attention, the fur on her back brushing your legs.

“What’s wrong, girly girl?” He asks, all sensuality gone from his expression. His concern for her welfare and yours was one of the many reasons you loved him, his affection and loving words for “his favorite girls” always squeezing your heart in a vice grip.

Layla nuzzles her snout against Jake’s palm, but she makes no move to stray from her spot against you. You cross your arms, frowning. “Layla, what’s up with you lately? Mommy’s fine,” you assure her.

“Maybe she wants to go for a W-A-L-K.” Jake spells out the words, wiggling his eyebrows and walking in the direction of the hooks that hold his coats and her leash. “Is that what you want, baby? You want to go for a walk?”

Layla’s ears perk up instantly, her tail wagging in all directions before Jake puts her in her harness. The moment forgotten as the two of them head out the door, you wonder what’s up with her and how to help her feel better moving forward.

The next week, you feel worse for wear. You think back to that day in the kitchen, realizing how oblivious you were to the way your body would turn against you. The nausea was something you could handle. But now, your body is all kinds of sore, mostly in your chest and pelvic region.

You would pass it off as normal premenstrual symptoms, but the pain is foreign on some level you can’t explain. If only you could put a proper name to it, maybe it wouldn’t nag you so much.

Layla whimpers the entire day, snuggled into your side as though she believes her body can provide some relief for your aching one.

By the afternoon, you call Jake to take your mind off of the overbearing discomfort. He begins to talk about the newest project at the firm and his role in landing the contract, but once he hears Layla’s array of cries, he changes his focus.

“Is something going on?” You hear the concern in your husband’s voice immediately, and your heart clenches at his tone.

“No, no, baby, I’m fine. She probably just needs to pee.” At the worst time possible, a cramp makes you gasp in pain.

“I’m coming home,” Jake says with finality, no room for any further discussion.

By the time he makes it home, he brings a large bowl of chicken noodle soup and a brand new heating pad to your bedside.

He runs his hands through your hair as you cry, reminding you to eat as much of the soup as you can stomach.

“Next time, please don’t make Layla the messenger,” Jake jokes, kissing the crown of your head. The girl in question sits nestled against yours and Jake’s feet, satisfied she’s done her job to make sure you got the help you needed.

The sun peers into the bathroom and shines down on the two pink lines staring back at you. The truth of what’s been in development for the past few weeks hits you with full force. Any normal woman would be hyper emotional at the news or terrified at her life changing as she knows it. For you, all you can do is stare down at your dog and laugh.

“You knew this entire time, didn’t you?” You ask Layla although she can’t reply, tears of joy and humor running down your cheeks. She just looks up at you with the same cocked head and wagging tail.

You turn back to the three pregnancy tests that rest on top of the marble counter, all of them confirming what the pup knew to be true many days ago.

Call it canine intuition, feminine senses, or a little bit of both. It’s anyone’s guess.

What isn’t up for debate is whether or not you’ll tell the man you love the news when he gets home.

When he does, he carries a bouquet of flowers in his hands. “Saw these on my way home and thought of you,” he says, beaming.

You grin and press your mouth to his softly. “I actually have something for you too.”

You guide him into the bathroom, his eyes immediately locking onto the tests near the sink. In classic Jake Sim fashion, his eyes go wide and his billion-megawatt grin appears on his lips. “Are you serious?”

You nod your head, the waterworks from earlier coming back.

He encases you in a tight hug, his body shaking with his own barrage of emotions. His voice is trembling when he says, “I’m gonna be a dad.”

He kisses every free space of your face, landing finally on your lips in a tear-stained but beautiful kiss. “How long have you known?”

“Just for a few hours.” You see Layla in the doorway, your pup smiling at the two of you. “But someone actually knew a long time ago.”

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[berberriescorner]

pregnant sexs w rio

I had to sit and think of which direction I wanted to take this in. Whew, chileee! Way too many scenarios are playing in my mind. This man😩😍!

I'm going to keep it a stack with y'all. This turned into a whole-ass fic.

Sit back, buckle up, and prep yourself for the trip my imagination's about to take you on♥️. Love, comments, and reblogs are appreciated, lovelies💞.

A/N: Sexual frustration and prolonged foreplay ahead. If that's not your vibe. You may want to skip out on this one. A couple of twists and flips here and there. I hope you lovelies enjoy what I did with this♥️. Just a heads up, I really got into this one, so it's going to be pretty lengthy. Worked on it for a while. Even made a damn mood board...I couldn't resist.

One More Note: A polite, gentle reminder that I don't usually take requests. If you float something in my ask that I just can't resist. I will give in here and there. In other words, if you don't get a response, please don't take it personally.

If you missed any other ask about dad!rio or hubby!rio, they're all listed on my Masterlist under Rio Asks/Headcanons (in order). Enjoy my lovelies! Feel free to love, comment, and share🥰.

Song Inspo💜:

"Let's Go Little Kitty-Kat"

Livid. Irritable. Restless. Each one of these words perfectly describes your current mood. The kids had begged to spend their spring break with Rio’s grandmother. Marcus was spending his time off with her, and his siblings loved to follow big brother’s every move. You weren’t surprised that they wanted to be wherever he was. It didn’t hurt that their great-grandmother spoiled them rotten and gave them whatever their hearts desired. Even your sweet baby boy left his momma in the dust. That wasn’t the reason for your foul mood (though being in this big, empty house didn’t help).

You were angrily resting on the couch, a permanent pout etched on your face. You huffed loudly as your husband’s voice sounded on the other end of the phone call.

“So, you’re not going to say anything?”

 Silence.

“Mama,” he sighed. 

You were willing to bet any amount of money that Rio’s hand was running down his face right now. Were you overreacting? Possibly. Maybe even being a bit unreasonable? Probably so. Did you give a damn? Not at all. Blame it on the hormones.

“Let me make sure I’ve got this right. You’re pissed off–again? That’s two days in a row, mama. I’ve still yet to figure out the reason behind yesterday's bad attitude. Normally, I don’t let that shit slide, but I understand you’re emo-.”

“Call me emotional one more time, Rio.”

“And you’re going to do what, darlin’,” he questioned, voice laced with a hint of warning. Rio chuckled sarcastically, “I got a lot going on right now. Call me back when you’re ready to talk like an adult. Ready to get back on your grown woman shit.”

“Whatever, Christopher. You called me. Nobody wanted to talk to your dusty ass anyway. Get off my line,” with that, you both hung up on one another, more irritated than before the call.

You knew your behavior was coming off as petty, but too much pent-up frustration kept you from acting like a rational human being. You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly got stuck as you recalled yesterday's events.

You lay awake in bed, your body vibrating with lust. The day had dragged by slowly as your need for Rio grew more and more. You changed positions so many times your head scarf came undone.

“If I can just manage to wait up at least another hour. Maybe Rio will get here soon enough to put my ass to bed.”

Nope. The tiny human growing in your womb pulled you into a deep slumber. 

By the time Rio reached the threshold of your master bedroom. You were snuggled deep into the covers with pillows surrounding you. His shoulders lowered with a hint of disappointment. Rio knew you wanted him home, even if you hadn't said the words aloud. He could sense the attitude and frustration in your voice when he called to tell you not to wait up. Rio had tried his hardest to get home hours ago, but with every attempt at leaving came more matters that required his attention. He lowered himself to your sleeping form. Adjusting your scarf so it wouldn’t slip off, Rio softly pecked your nose and cheek. After a quick shower, he carefully climbed into his side of the bed, gently pulling two of the many pillows from behind your back. It took some effort, but he managed to cuddle up to you and delicately pull you into him. You stirred for a few moments but quickly fell back into a deep sleep. Your husband watched, smirking at the light snores you released.

“Night, Mama. Love you,” he whispered, kissing your neck.

The following morning, you woke up. Still horny as hell. You rolled over to find his side of the bed empty. He had been there. Rio’s side of the bed looked slept in. Your head turned in the direction of your en suite. Not a peep sounded. He wasn’t in there.

Maybe he’s downstairs. I should fix him something before he heads out. Perhaps he could eat me for breakfast. These freaking pregnancy hormones are out of control. Every waking moment, I feel like swallowing this man whole. When I’m not hungry, I’m horny. When I’m not fiending for my husband, I want to eat everything in sight. Fucking Rio. The dick just doesn’t miss. He shoots the club up every.single.time.

You smiled at your small bump, rubbing soft circles at the sides. Honestly, you didn’t mind being pregnant for the fifth time, but for your sanity (and the kids), this would be your last. If Rio wanted more babies, he had better find a damn good surrogate. Mama’s tired.

Does this man not realize he’ll have to pay for three, possibly four, weddings? Who am I kidding? In his mind, Rio probably believes he’ll be able to chase off any and every potential love interest. He’s in for a rude awakening. My dad didn’t like his ass at first. I have a (legally) pistol-toting father as well. That didn’t stop shit. Now look at us: marriage and a gang of children.

Pregnancy turned you into an impatient woman. When you wanted something, there was no convincing you different. 

In your thoughts, the bedroom door crept open. Rio’s head peeked inside. He noticed you sitting on the side of the bed and stepped into the room. He swaggered over to you, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. His voice was low, and restlessness lingered in his tone.

“Morning, Mama. You sleep alright,” he asked as his fingers took hold of your chin, tilting your head back for a kiss. His rough, calloused fingers danced along your jawline, trailing low enough to graze the outside of your breast. He smiled as you gasped against his lips.

The kiss started sweet, turning into hunger in mere seconds. You tried tugging your husband down onto the bed. Rio pulled back, pecking your lips a few times, before standing upright, hand slowly stroking the inner part of your thigh. With just a few inches, he would've been dangerously close to where you wanted him most. 

“I had to come to kiss my beautiful wife before heading out. I need to slide, mama. I’ve got a lot on my plate today. It's going to be hectic, and shit might get active. I ordered you some breakfast. It’ll be here soon. I’ll probably get in late tonight. Don’t wait up for me. Make sure you and my baby get some rest. Love you,” he said, kissing you again.

“Love you too, Papa,” you exhaled.

You watched him leave and groaned with irritation. 

It would be two nights in a row that he’d be coming in late at night. That typically wouldn’t be an issue. You had grown used to it throughout the years. The only time it became a problem was when you were in your current state: knocked up, horny, and hormonal. It was just something that switched in your brain during these times. You wanted all Rio’s attention. The need to have him buried deep inside you was high, and you couldn’t quite get your fill of him.

Several attempts to distract yourself throughout the day had failed miserably. No matter what you did, your thoughts always redirected themselves back to Rio and sex. You made one last effort to ignore the constant need to devour your husband. Turning Apple Music on shuffle, you opened a magazine and thumbed through it. Unfortunately, the universe wasn't on your side. Every song was more explicit than the previous one. A frustrated sigh fell from your lips as you shut the music off.

Enough is enough. Hubby won’t come to me, but rest assured I can go to him.

You padded to your bedroom closet, looking for a sexy little number. Slipping on a pair of Steve Madden heels, you snatched up your car keys. You set forth on a journey to Rio. Bringing him lunch would be your excuse for showing up unannounced. That reason, however, wasn't enough to prevent the lecture you received from an overprotective husband, Rio. As if that wasn’t enough, you also caught shit from your meddlesome bodyguard/homie, Mick. He escorted you into the warehouse when you arrived.

“Boss lady, you know you’re not supposed to be here,” he instigated.

“Mick, hush. I can bring my husband some lunch. Chill on me.”

“Alright, but you already know. The boss won’t be happy you're out, running around for him.”

“I went to get him some takeout. I didn’t even get out of the car. It was a curbside pickup.”

You were about to continue the debate when Rio’s voice sounded behind you.

“Mama.”

How could one little word send your body into a frenzy? You could sense both curiosity and a little anger in his tone. Mick stood there smirking at you. He knew what was about to go down. It was one thing for you to be out and about with no security detail. That was enough to put you in hot water. The fact that you were pregnant pushed his disappointment to another level.

“Mick, that thing we were about to take care of? Start without me. I need a few moments with my wife.”

He nodded in agreement, giving you a ‘good luck’ smirk on his way out. You turned your attention to Rio after the door closed. His jaw ticked as he shook his head in disbelief.

“What did I tell you about leaving the house with no security detail? You’re supposed to be at home relaxing. What are you even doing out and about? I specifically told you I’d be busy today. You know that’s code for business dealings. Your ass shouldn’t be anywhere near this warehouse right now.”

“I just wanted to bring you lunch, Papa. I needed to see that handsome face,” you replied in your best baby voice.

“Nah, that little voice and smile ain’t cutting it right now. Why are you so damn hardheaded?”

Now you were starting to get a little pissed. It was understandable that Rio was always concerned for your safety, but what choice did you have? Several, you had several. It just couldn’t wait. Yes, you were slightly irritated by his reaction, but the ache in your core grew even more being in his presence. The scent of his cologne wafted through the air. With just one sniff, you could feel your nipples harden.

These hormones are so out of control. I need this man to wreck my shit. The sooner, the better.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to plead your case.

“But baby-”

“Listen. I’m too busy to have this argument with you right now.”

Rio closed the distance between you and placed his hands on either side of your face. He angrily sighed and pecked your lips.

“I appreciate the gesture, Mama, but please listen to me next time.”

You bit your lip, looking at him apologetically. Snaking your arms around his body, you allowed him to engulf you in a hug. Wrapped tightly in his embrace, Rio caught you off guard, giving you a hard swat on the bottom. His voice was low and gravelly as he growled, “You're trouble, Mama.”

You moaned, pushing your backside deeper into his palms. Eyes drifted shut as you stood on your tiptoes and puckered your lips for a kiss. Rio’s hands caressed the soft, plush globes as his breath fanned your lips. He denied your request for a kiss. Instead, his lips ghosted your neck, and his mouth traveled to your ear. Nipping at your lobe, he rasped, “Sorry, mama. We don’t have time for that. I have to go handle business.”

He pulled away, smirking at the frown that quickly shifted to a pout.

“We can’t spend just a few more minutes together?”

“Don’t do that, ma. You know this is important. Since you’re already out and ignoring my demands, why don’t you spend some time with your best friend? Here, take my card. Lunch is on me.”

This man is so preoccupied with business. He doesn’t even see that I came here to give him a piece of pussy. For some reason, that irritates the hell out of me. Usually, he can read my body like a book. I see where his priorities are at the moment. Business must trump his pregnant wife’s needs. I gave this man four and a half babies, and this is the thanks I get? Let me take my pregnant, horny, irritated tail home. His ass is sleeping on the couch tonight, and I don’t give one fuck that I’m being irrational.

“Nah, I’m good,” you waved your hand dismissively.

Sensing attitude, Rio tilted his head back, giving you a look of incredulity.

“Look, I ain't got time for the dramatics right now. I told you I would be busy. Go home, mama. We can discuss this in the privacy of our home.”

Cocking your head to the side, you gave him an irritated glare. A rush of pregnancy hormones came hurtling towards you. Snatching your handbag and keys from his desk, you stormed out of the room. Rio knew he struck a nerve and possibly hurt your feelings. Stepping into the hall, he called after you. Ignoring him, you stomped out of the building. With an exasperated sigh, your husband ran his hands over his face. Taking a deep breath did little to soothe the irritation that started festering inside him. It also didn’t help that the idiots working the warehouse floor were ogling your behind as you angrily switched out of the building.

“Y’all got a death wish or something? Fuck you looking at,” Rio barked towards the group of men.

“I suggest you get back to work before I unload the clip in this bitch,” he boomed, walking back into his office to cool down before heading to the meeting.

“She’s almost to her car. Hurry up! Follow her. Keep a watchful eye over her. She’s in her feelings. Make sure my wife and child make it home safe,” he ordered one of his men.

Her ass is out here walking around in those tight-ass jeans. We’re about to have a heated exchange when I get home. Out here showing out. She’s over here pressing on my last nerve and still making me want to put her on her back at the same damn time. Thick-ass. Feisty-ass. Sexy-ass. Spoiled-ass. Hormonal-ass woman.

Rio’s detail only served to anger you more. Pulling into your driveway, you flung the car door open, grabbed your stuff, and turned toward the henchman.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter. Either wait out here or take your ass back to the warehouse.”

Not waiting for a response, you went into your home. Setting the alarm, you settled in for a quiet, lonesome evening. You had hoped a nice relaxing shower, comfy PJs, and stuffing your face would put you in a better mood. It could have worked, but your husband kept blowing up your phone.

Annoyed by the fourth call, you answered icily, “What can I do for you, dear?”

Rio could hear the sarcasm in your voice. “This what we on tonight?”

“Why, whatever do you mean, husband?”

“Cut the shit, mama. Why are you ignoring my calls?”

“You were oh so busy. I’d imagine that ignoring you would give you more time to concentrate on business, sweetie.”

“You petty as fuck. Stop being mean, mama.”

His mini flirtations went ignored.

This man hasn’t seen petty yet. Watch me work, Daddy.

“What can I do for you, Christopher?”

“Oh, are we using government names now? Bet. Why are you being stubborn?”

Silence.

“So, you’re not going to say anything?”

 Silence.

 “Mama,” he sighed. 

“Let me make sure I’ve got this right. You’re pissed off–again? That’s two days in a row, mama. I’ve still yet to figure out the reason behind yesterday's bad attitude. Normally, I don’t let that shit slide, but I understand you’re emo-.”

“Call me emotional one more time, Rio.”

“And you’re going to do what, darlin’,” he questioned, voice laced with a hint of warning. Rio chuckled sarcastically, “I got a lot going on right now. Call me back when you’re ready to talk like an adult. Ready to get back on your grown woman shit.”

“Whatever, Christopher. You called me. Nobody wanted to talk to your dusty ass anyway. Get off my line,” with that, you both hung up on one another, more irritated than before the call.

Hours later, you came down from your mood swing. Guilt slowly started to seep into you. Not one to give in and apologize first, you decided it was the right thing to do. Unlocking your phone, you sent a request for FaceTime. It rang twice before being denied.

He’s probably busy. I’ll try again in an hour or so.

The next time you tried his cell, you called. It rang several times before going to voicemail. Waiting another hour, you tried again. Ringing once, it went to voicemail.

Now, wait a fuckin’ minute. One ring means he hit the “f you button.” See, now a bitch is starting to get mad again. Woosah. Fight them mood swings, girl. Fight them!

Just as you had calmed your nerves, a text came through.

Husbaeee (Papa)🥰😈👅💦: You and the baby good?

Wifey (Mama)🌎💍: Yes, we’re fine. Why haven’t you called me back? Are you okay?

Husbaeee (Papa)🥰😈👅💦: I’m busy, remember? You didn’t feel like talking earlier? Why are you so chatty all of a sudden?

His petty ass.

Wifey (Mama)🌎💍: Stop making it hard to tell you sorry, Papa. Chill on me.

Husbaeee (Papa)🥰😈👅💦: Keep your sorry, ma. I’m cool on that. See you when I get home.

Oh, okay! It’s just, ma, now? Bet.

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Rio smiled to himself. He purposefully pissed you off again. Part of him did it out of payback, but his main objective was getting you frustrated. If it had done the trick. You would be ripping his clothes off and begging to be fucked once he made it home.

Not one to tell a man where he can and cannot go in his own home. You decided against telling Rio to sleep on the couch. However, the need to be petty was vibrating heavily in your bones. You fought sleep as long as you could, hoping to wait up for him long enough to ignore him for a bit. The baby again had other plans and lulled you into a deep sleep.

Rio braced himself for whatever you had planned to throw his way. He smirked to himself, releasing a low chuckle before exiting the car. Dragging his tired body into the house, your husband entered the code into the security system. Resetting it, he headed in the direction of the bar. He filled a tumbler with two fingers of bourbon. Tossing it back, Rio let the warm liquid flow through his chest. He rinsed the glass, set it in the dishwasher, and headed upstairs. 

Her moody ass is probably sleeping.

Attempting not to wake you, he quietly padded up the stairs. Rio unbuttoned the first couple of buttons on his shirt as he walked toward your shared bedroom. He nearly made it there but stopped in his tracks. The look on his face turned stone cold, and he slowly turned his head to peer into the guest bedroom.

What the fuck is this shit?

There you were, the door cracked, and lights dimmed just enough for him to see you tucked in tight, slumbering peacefully. Your plan to ignore him may have fallen through, but you still managed to be petty even in your sleep.

You jolted awake, feeling arms slip under your frame and pull you up from the mattress. Moments went by as you willed your eyes to wake fully. Your sight focused on Rio’s angered expression, and you pushed at his chest.

“What the hell are you doing? Put me down, Christopher!”

He ignored you. Rio’s jaw ticking as he took long strides exiting the guest room. He carried you into your bedroom, laid you in bed, tucking you in. You started to explain that you were a grown-ass woman and could sleep anywhere you damn well pleased. The look in his eyes forced you to think better of it.

“I don’t give a fuck how angry you are! Your ass will sleep in this bed regardless. Go to bed mad if you want to. Your stubborn ass is going to do it lying next to me. No room for debate, mama. You mad at me? You don’t want to be near me right now? That’s all good, but you sleep in our bed. Roll to the edge of the bed. That's all the space you're getting.”

Rio snatched his shirt over his head and threw it into the clothes hamper. You did your best to bite back any more snarky responses as you watched Rio stalk to the bathroom. The door flew shut, and you mumbled, “Dramatic much.”

The bathroom door swung open. Standing in the doorway, eyes set on you, Rio commanded, “Can you stop talking? Please give me a moment of peace, ma. All that talking’s gon’ land your ass in a world of trouble. Save yourself, mama. Be quiet.”

You cut your eyes at him, sliding down into bed. You lay on the side facing away from him. The corners of your mouth pulled into a mischievous grin. Waiting for the shower to start, you attempted to remove yourself from the bed and head toward the exit. Rio's voice bounced off the bathroom walls, halting your movement.

“Get back in bed, mama.”

You kissed your teeth, “Ain’t nobody left. Shut up, Rio.”

“You heard what I said. Stop playing with me.”

Pouncing back on the bed, you snarled towards the bathroom door.

“Fix your face, ma. You’re trying my patience tonight.”

Can he see through the damn walls or something?

“Nobody worried about you, Christopher.”

“Yeah, okay. Your stubborn ass got back in that bed. Didn’t you?”

Rio wanted to wash the events of the day away. He wanted a few quiet minutes to destress, but being a little hellcat, you wouldn’t give him that. You had a response for everything. He loved you combative and keyed up, but tonight, you were laying it on thick and wouldn’t let up. Rio was slightly irritated that his plan to piss you off again was starting to backfire. Taking a few calming breaths, he readied himself to regain control of the situation.  

The water cut off, and he walked into the room, towel hanging dangerously low around his waist. There were beads of water sliding down his naked torso. Being irritated by him wasn’t enough to stop your eyes from tracing him from head to toe. Squeezing your thighs together, you bit your lip, fighting the urge to jump on him. Rio felt your eyes on him and smirked in your direction. He laid a fresh pair of underwear on the foot of the bed. Standing upright, his eyes connected with yours as Rio pulled the towel from his waist. His eyes stayed on you as he took the time to dry the rest of his body. Your vision latched onto his manhood as you watched it swing from side to side. The tip of your tongue danced across your lips, and Rio rasped, “You hungry, mama?” The knowing smirk on his face aggravated you. Not thinking it through, you mumbled, “Like you give a fuck.”

A low and bitter chuckle fell from Rio’s lips. That was your last chance. His bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His eyes darkened and held yours as he slipped into his underwear. Tossing the towel into the hamper, he crept toward you. The silence that filled the air added to the moment's intensity.

Rio’s fingers glided along the column of your neck. His digits cupped your chin, giving it a light squeeze as a warning. His face crowded your own. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking. Finally, you had pissed him off enough to get the reaction you craved. Wetness pulled between your thighs in anticipation.

“This all could’ve been avoided, mama.”

Rio’s thumb traced your bottom lip as he backed away. You watched in confusion as he stepped into a pair of sweatpants and grabbed his phone. Stepping toward the door, you asked, “Where are you going?”

“Thought you didn't want to be near me, darlin’? I think you need some time alone. Just go to bed. I'm not tired.”

“I’ve been alone for two days! You’re such an asshole.”

His hand gripped the doorknob as he rolled his neck and shoulders. He was fighting the urge to pounce. With his back to you, Rio finished, “Next time you want to be fucked. Just say that, ma.”

You growled in annoyance, chucking a pillow against his back as he walked out of the room.

“Your ass is lucky you're carrying my baby. It's the only thing keeping me from snatching your little ass up. Crazy ass woman,” he called out from the hallway.

You punched your pillows and got back in bed. Too upset to sleep, a slew of emotions rained down on you. First, there were tears of frustration. Then anger, followed by another round of guilt.

Why do I keep putting this man through hell? All over some dick. That’s what it comes down to. However, if he would’ve cracked my damn back, this shit could’ve been avoided. You're so damn busy you can’t slide inside me and bust a quick nut? 

You smiled, rolled your eyes, and finished your thoughts.

Damn, I’m a brat. Let me drag grumpy pants back to bed. I thought, “wE sLeEp BeSiDe EaCh OtHeR No MaTtEr WhAt,” Head ass.

Rio was sitting on the edge of the living room sofa, arms draped over his lap. The longer he sat there thinking over the day and your attitude. The more he had to fight the urge to do the things he truly wanted. Rio fisted the top of his pants as wicked thoughts of you crying out for him cycled through. His hands trembled, filled with the need to possess and punish you. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back to calm his hunger. That plan fell through as your scent flowed into the room. He groaned, opening his eyes and settling his gaze on you.

“You could’ve slept in the guest room. Why are you being extra? I thought we didn’t sleep in separate rooms anyway?”

“I’m not about to keep going back and forth with you. Just go back to bed, Mama,” he responded with tiredness in his voice.”

That pulled at your heartstrings.

Be nice, bitch.

You swallowed your pride and made the first move toward reconciliation.

“Come back to bed, Rio. I’m sorry for being unreasonable, papa.”

Still standing in the entryway of the spacious living room, you waited for a response. The room was painfully quiet as you two watched one another. Rio’s gaze trailed your body. It was just something about you in his T-shirts that always drove him crazy. He kept his expression blank, making it hard for you to get a read on him. The silence continued for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was different. It wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t happy either.

It was dominant, possessive even. 

“Come here.”

Oh, shit. Not that voice. Anything but that.

There were two types of dominant Rio. One, you had been working his nerves for. The other? Not so much. You stayed frozen in place.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Your legs carried you over to him. Stepping between him and the coffee table, you waited for further instruction.

“Look, I know I’ve been working your nerves-.”

“Mm-Mm. Quiet. Talking seems to be your downfall, Mama.”

Rio’s hands reached up and grasped your hips.

“Sit,” he instructed, pulling you into a seated position on the coffee table.

His elbows rested on the top of his knees, hands folded underneath his chin.

“You’ve been doing your best to get my attention. Now that you have it. You seem a bit worried, Mama. It’s what you wanted. Right?”

Silence.

“Good girl. You finally learned how to listen and not talk. It’s a little shocking, honestly. You’ve had so much to say for the past two days. Now, when it seems you’re about to get the response you want, and then some. You don’t have shit to say.”

You could feel the heat radiating off of him. Fucked. That’s what you were. There were times when you would overdo it, pushing him too far. Tonight was going to be one of those nights. Pulling in a shaky breath, you continued to listen. Being pregnant, you didn’t know how he would play it. That alone sent a shiver down your body.

See, this is what my emotional, spoiled ass gets. It’s too late to turn back now. Dear sweet Kitty Kat, I wish you the best of luck, girl.

“What’s wrong, darlin’? You seem a bit nervous.”

More silence.

Rio leaned towards you, placing his hands on your plush thighs. He was so close your noses were an inch apart. He tilted his head, angling it to nip your bottom lip. Pulling back, his hand massaged your left cheek. It circled your skin as he leaned back in.

“My hands itching to wrap around your throat, Mama. You know I can’t act like this and do things like that when you’re carrying my child. I don’t take risks with my seed, and you know that. Playing with your oxygen supply is the same as messing with theirs. So why the fuck do you keep trying me,” he groaned.

“Baby, I’m-“

“Shhh.” He laid a gentle kiss on your lips. “You've been talking all day. Right now is a time for listening, darlin’.”

He leisurely rose from the couch, towering over you.

“Let’s put your mouth to better use. Yeah?”

Your breath hitched as his fingers threaded through your hair. Tugging it, he tilted your head back, pecking your lips again. Rio’s eyes held yours as his free hand dipped inside his sweatpants and briefs. Releasing and stroking his member, he hovered over you.

“You wanted some attention. Right, mama? You need dick? Open that pretty little mouth for me.”

Rio jerked your head forward. Hand still wrapped tightly around his thick length, he tapped it on your lips. Your mouth watered and instantly fell open.

“Now you want to be a good girl,” he groaned, swiping the head of his cock on the tip of your tongue.

You started to wrap your mouth around him, but he backed away. A whimper fell from your mouth. Rio held your chin, “I’ll tell you when you can eat it up, Mama,” he whispered, gently tapping your face with his girth.

“You so fucking fine. Wet juicy ass lips got my shit throbbing,” Rio moaned, bending down to kiss you again. Eyes blazing, you used your mouth to capture his thumb. You suckled it, giving him doe eyes. It was as if your beautiful orbs were pleading for him to give in. Your body was so wound up it screamed for some sort of relief. You so desperately wanted to taste him. Thoughts of him spilling his seed into your mouth had you salivating. Rio’s lips parted as his tongue did that snake motion you loved. He slid his thumb from your lips, moving it out of reach.

“Can’t even ruin you in the manner you deserve. I want to shove my dick in that pretty little mouth and fuck your throat until you choke. Damn, I want to leave you gasping for air, voice hoarse. You know I love the way you swallow the dick.”

 An appreciative whimper sounded from your lips. Rio’s eyes danced with excitement. He took joy at the needy and desperate look on your face. The rise and fall of your chest quickened as sinful sounds came from your sweet lips. 

“Look at you moaning and whimpering. That’s my nasty bitch. Does the thought of me shoving myself down that pretty little throat turn you on, mama? It makes you wet. Doesn’t it?”

You shivered and released a stuttered breath, “Daddy, please.” He smiled wickedly, “Damn, I love it when you beg, darlin’.”

“Christopher, please. I’m about to go crazy. I don't think I've ever wanted to swallow you down this bad. Please, Papa. I need you.”

A chuckle fell from his lips. Rio swallowed hard, and you could see the pulse dancing on the side of his neck. His eyes grew darker as he leaned close enough, and you felt his breath brush against your lips.

“You are so cute, mama. Beg as much as you want. The question is: Do you think you deserve it,” he whispered, peppering your lips with light kisses. The corners of his lips lifted, forming a smile as you panted the word yes. “Mm, no. I don't think so, darlin’. You've been stomping around, throwing tantrums, twisting and turning, rolling that neck for days now.”

Your impatience and temper got the best of you.

“If you're so tired of my damn attitude. Put me out of my misery already. You're the one being stingy with the dick! You can't find a few moments to love on your wife?”

There was that sinister smile once more. Rio’s hand went to wrap around your throat, but halfway he stopped. Closing it into a fist tightly, he forced it down to his side. He smirked, slowly opening his mouth to speak, “You’re letting these hormones rattle you, mama. They got you impatient as fuck and coming out of pocket.”

Tucking himself back into his sweats, Rio reclaimed his spot on the sofa. Leaning back into the cushions, he watched your face twist up in frustration.

“Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Sleep wherever you want. I don’t care.”

“Sit. Down,” Rio roared.

You froze, back still facing him.

“I’m getting tired of saying things twice,” Rio hissed. “Sit your ass down.”

You swung around and stomped to the coffee table to reclaim your seat.

“Not there. Come here.”

Standing in front of him, you crossed your arms over your chest.

“You beckoned? Dear sweet husband.”

Though Rio wore a thin smile, you could tell he didn’t find shit amusing. Glancing at his lap, he whispered, “Sit.”

You kissed your teeth, plopping into his lap. He pressed up against you, hands gripping your waist. “You enjoy making me tick. Don’t you darlin’?”

Not waiting for you to answer, one hand abandoned your waist. It slid into your hair, tugging at the strands. The action caused you to release something Rio couldn’t decipher. What had started as a gasp shifted to a whimper and ended as a moan. The sound caused his erection to twitch underneath you as he bit back a groan.

“Why are you giving Daddy a hard time? Thought you loved me, Mama,” he teased.

Your lips parted, but he tugged more, signaling you to remain silent.

“Don’t deny it, love. I’m over here fighting everything in me right now. I know how you want it. You ain’t in no condition for that, baby girl.”

“How do I want it, Papa,” you whispered breathlessly.

Rio’s hand trailed to the column of your neck. He gave it a light, gentle squeeze. Pulling your ear to his lips, he groaned, “You want that rough shit. Need me to choke you. Talk my shit and say all the nasty things you like. Pin you down, fuck you until you cry. That’s what you want, yeah,” he questioned, nipping at your earlobe.

A smirk danced across his face at the sound of your whimpering.

“Can’t you just do it as gently as possible? Please, you begged, grinding into his lap.

His growl bounced off the living room walls. It was a signal, a warning, but you couldn’t help yourself. Circling your hips, you pressed further into his erection. Rio hissed, “Behave. You really gotta chill, Mama.”

You stood long enough to turn and straddle his thigh. His hands cradled your small bump. Pecking his lips, you watched as Rio’s eyes fluttered closed. The two of you slipped into a sensual kiss. Your hips rolled as you started to grind your moist panties against his thigh.

“Papa, please. I’m begging you. I need you. I’ll take it any way you’d like.”

He sucked in a shallow breath, grasping your chin.

“I know you will. You don’t have a choice, mama.”

Cocky motha-.

“Keep grinding that slick little pussy against me, baby,” he rasped, grabbing up the globes of your behind. “Now I know you can do better than that. Grind harder,” he finished with a smack to each cheek. Mouths collided as your fingers traced patterns along the nape of his neck. Your tongues wrestled for dominance. His palms dug into your supple flesh, guiding you along the slick spot that started to form on his thigh.

“Damn, mama. Just the sound of my voice makes that little pussy weep, yeah?”

He watched you with pride, your eyes shut tight, breathing ragged. Rio moved his hands to your breast, giving them a light squeeze. He moaned as his teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

“Go a little faster. Pull yourself toward the edge, darlin’.”

Your body rocked faster against his drenched thigh as his hand crept until it found its way underneath your shirt, pulling at the hardened nipples.

“Christopher.”

“Hmm, baby? Talk to me, mama. What do you need from Daddy?”

The words got stuck in your throat, and you edged closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. Your head tilted back, and the mewl you released made all Rio’s blood rush to his thick member. He peppered kisses along the soft skin of your neck, cooing, “You close, baby girl? Hmm? Come on now, tell me how you feel, darlin’. Let me hear that pretty voice.”

“So damn close. Add a little pressure, Daddy. Press into me, please.”

Rio chuckled, lifting his thigh just enough to give you the desired pressure.

“That better, sweetheart?”

“Fuck,” you whispered. Ye-I’ma come. Please-.”

You started to tremble, signaling an explosive orgasm. Rio’s fingers gripped your waist, halting all movement. A high-pitched whine echoed throughout the room as you tried to power through his grasp and thrust your hips. His hold on you was too strong to fight. The teasing chuckle he gave frustrated you.

“Why would you do that? Don’t play with me like that, Rio,” you whimpered.

“Oh, you thought this was about to be easy? No, love. See where all the nagging and expectations got you. Playing with my patience had you believing I would let you have your way. Fuck that. You better work for that shit, mama. You know how I operate, and I ain’t feeling too generous right now.” He pinched your nipple, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.

Shoving his shoulder, he fell back against the couch, pinning you with a mischievous glint.

“Ain’t shit funny, Rio. You’re pissing me off,” you snapped, pacing the hardwood floor.

“That makes two of us,” he countered, shrugging his shoulders.

“What happened to a happy wife, a happy life? I’m carrying your child. Where is the love?”

“So damn dramatic. You just knew you’d get your way, huh?”

You stopped, turning to face him. Your arms crossed your ample chest. Frustration ran deep in your mind. The two of you matched glare for glare.

Rio’s eyes darkened as he stood, walking toward you. He kissed you long and hard, backing you toward the living room wall. Your body shivered as you made contact with the chilled surface. He broke the kiss and rasped, “Should’ve used these past few minutes to make a convincing argument,” he tsked. “I don't even know if you deserve to come at this point, darlin’.”

Rio dropped to his knees, and you watched his head disappear underneath the fabric of your shirt. Heat pulsed throughout your core as you felt Rio pull fabric aside. Thousands of tiny sparks flooded your body as you felt his wet, warm tongue trail from the bottom of your dripping sex to the top. His middle and pointer fingers spread you open while the tip of his tongue danced around your bundle of nerves. You released a shuttered breath, head tilting back as your eyes fluttered closed. Without having to look up, Rio paused his licking and growled, “Keep you’re fucking eyes on me. Take off this damn shirt, and watch me eat this pussy up, mama.” 

Say less. I got you, Zaddy.

His eyes burned with passion at the sight of your breast. “You don’t need these either,” he rasped, tearing the panties from your body. Without another word, his head dipped back between your thighs. He teased you with nips and licks until you squirmed, begging for more. The pace had started achingly slow. His breath fanned your lower lips, “Look at you wiggling and shit. Are you aching for me, mama?” Rio inhaled your scent, “Damn, I’m about to eat this shit up.”

“Less talking. More licking, Papa,” you mewled, trying to thrust your heat back into his face. Rio leaned away.

“See, that’s your problem. You need to learn patience, mama. We don’t need to rush. Let me take my time and enjoy all this fine dining.”

“Truthfully, you get off on torturing me, don’t you?”

Instead of using his words, Rio answered with action. Still holding your lips apart, three fingers from the opposite hand pressed into your clit, rubbing wide circles slowly.

In a husky tone, he taunted, “Come on, sweetheart, I know you can get wetter than this.” Your sarcastic rebuttal halted as he continued, “Let me help you with that, ma.”

His words fully registered as you felt his saliva collide with your silky flesh. His mouth covered your lips again, alternating between slow, languid strokes and rapid, hungry licks. From the movement of his tongue to the way he gripped your thighs. Feeling everything at once was hurdling toward a powerful orgasm. His fingers rejoined the party, using them to fumble with your clit as he thrust his tongue into you.

“N-no, baby. Not ye-it’s too soon. S-slow down, fuck!”

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, trying to pull his fingers away. Rio swatted it as he hoisted you higher, locking his arms around your thighs.

“I thought you wanted to come though, Mama,” he teased. “Let me switch it up for you, yeah?”

His tongue replaced those same fingers, licking and sucking your sweet little nub like a man who hadn’t eaten in days.

“Oh! You fucking demon. Daddy, no,” you mewled, body starting to jerk. The sensation sent tingles throughout as your fist pounded against the wall. The digits of the other hand dug into his scalp. You felt him smile against your flesh, moaning and growling. Slipping three fingers inside, he flexed them, deliciously tapping your g-spot. The pace of his digits quickened as his lips wrapped around your abused clit, and he sucked as hard as he could. Your body writhed. The feeling was so intense you considered climbing the wall.

This bitch would go harder. I need to learn how to shut up.

Rio tsked again, “There’s nowhere for you to run, Mama. Daddy got you locked in,” he taunted, fingers speeding up a little more. “Thought this is what you wanted, hm? You've been crying for this all day. Is it too much for you, baby?” Rio’s fingers slipped out of you, and the palm of his hand delivered smacks over your lips. “Yeah! There we go! That’s that wet shit, mama.” Rio dove back in, the sounds of his mouth on your body growing more lewd by the second. All you could do was tremble and whimper. Rio groaned, his mouth devouring you. His words tickled your slick heat, “ You gon’ come for me? Hmm? My mouth got you leaking all over the place.” Your legs started to shake as his tongue lashed at your skin. 

“Answer me, ma,” he demanded, harsh yet sexy.

“Yes, fuck. I’m so close, shit!”

“Beg me to let you come.”

“Please, Papa! Let me come all over that sinfully delicious tongue.”

“I know you’re close. Look at that pretty little pussy squeezing around my fingers,” Rio teased, adding a fourth finger. “Look at these thick thighs shaking,” he taunted. Your husband took a moment to nip at your inner thighs. “Soft as fuck. Tastes so damn good.” His lips licked and sucked at the soft skin as he massaged your g-spot.

“Hold on a bit longer for me.”

His eyes glistened, and you knew Rio was about to make you suffer. There was something in his expression that just reeked of revenge. Minutes ticked by, and you were proven right: every torturous lick of his tongue was his getback. Every time his lips captured your bundle of nerves, it felt like he was trying to suck the soul out of you. He had brought you to the edge for the third time, only to slow down. Tears threatened to spill as you begged and pleaded. At this point, you were no longer begging him to come on his talented tongue. You just wanted him to wrap your legs around his waist and pound you into an earth-shattering orgasm. Twice, you had tried pulling his head away, pressing him to fuck you. Both times, Rio denied you and went right back to eating. His greedy mouth slurped at your juices, “Mm-mm, mama. Daddy’s still hungry.”

His tongue grazed your clit, causing your body to shiver with force. You cried out, “Rio, please! You have to let me come. I can’t do this anymore.” Tears trailed down your cheeks, tugging at his heart a bit. He kissed your nub once more before he pulled up from between your legs. Using the pads of his thumbs, he wiped at the remnants of your tears. Pecking your lips, his hands cradled your face. “I’m sorry, mama. Shh, I know, baby. I know. Breathe for me, catch your breath.”

How could your emotions be all over the place? Yet, every ounce of you still ached for him. Though you were irritated and pissed at the way he edged you. The need to be fucked and orgasm was still the top priority. You could curse him out later. Truthfully, you had done it to yourself. You knew pushing him too far was what brought you here. Patience and understanding had been an option that would have left you well rewarded. Instead, you had opted to try to force his hand.

I’m pregnant, horny, and a bit illogical at the moment. I want what the fuck I want, and I want it now.

Rio’s eyes locked with yours, his orbs still dark but sympathetic at the same time. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he swept hair that blocked your vision. Taking a deep breath, he leaned in, lips brushing against yours.

“I’ma stop fucking with you, mama,” he whispered, stealing a kiss.

Rio shushed your whimpering as his hands trailed back down your body and between your thighs. His fingers brushed your slit, collecting moisture along the way. His fingers slid lower until they reached the destination they were in search of. Two fingers penetrated you as his free hand tweaked your nipple. You sucked in a sharp breath as his digits tapped against that special place in warp speed.

“R-rio. Oh, God,” you mewled. “No, please. I want you inside. I need you inside me, baby. Why won’t you just-.”

His head fell into the crook of your neck as you pleaded. An anguished growl echoed against your throat.

“I can’t right now, mama. I just can’t,” he responded helplessly as his fingers kept slamming into you. “Give it to me, mama. I know you can’t hold it anymore. Come for me, baby girl,” he moaned against your skin.

“But why? Oh! Fuck! Y-yes. God, yes,” you cried, falling over the edge.

“Fuck, mama. My arm’s soaked,” he groaned, breath shallow, as he trailed kisses down your neck. He waited for you to respond, but the only sound he heard was sniffling. Rio pulled back with a quickness, hands cradling your face once more. He kissed you, “What’s wrong, mama? Why are you crying?”

“Are you not attracted to me anymore?”

“Mama. Don’t start. Why wouldn’t I be attracted to you? That’s a wild ass question. Please don’t take this wrong, but these hormones got you all messed up. You know better than to ask me such a ludicrous question.” 

Your eyes started to water again, and Rio threw his head back, running his hand down his face. Releasing a long sigh, “Don’t start again, mama. You’re all over the place today. One minute, you’re cursing me out, trying to push me away. The next minute, you’re on me. I damn sure can’t keep up with the mood swings today. Now I’m getting pissed all over again because you're questioning my love for you.”

“It’s a simple question, Rio. Something must be wrong since you won’t fuck your wife. It can’t be that bizarre of a question. Just admit it. I’m gaining weight (not to mention I was already plushie before), so you’re not interested.”

“What number mood swing is this?”

“Fuck you, Rio.”

“You’d like that? A fuck. Wouldn’t you?”

“Such a dickish response!”

You stormed away, ignoring his demands not to walk away from him. Upon entering your bedroom, you slammed the door. Climbing under the covers, you snuggled down until you found a comfortable spot. He didn’t immediately follow you upstairs. Sinking back into the couch, he tried to calm his temper. 

Rio’s mood/urge was why Y/N hadn’t gotten what she wanted in the first place. He was right back to being as pissed as he was earlier. It was all the more reason to stay where he was until he could calm himself. During the first round of this sexually charged argument, it had taken every fiber in him not to fuck you relentlessly. No matter how bad you both wanted it. He wasn’t comfortable with manhandling you at a time like this.

He tilted his head back against the cushions and chuckled to himself. Looking back over the day, you had been a pain in the ass. However, Rio loved that you were adamant about getting what you desired.

The fact that she thinks there’s a way for me to be gentle and rough in that sort of head space is laughable. I love this crazy ass woman.

He replayed the last of your conversation. Guilt crept in as he remembered how your lip trembled as you fought back tears of frustration and neediness while leaving the room. Thinking the situation over, Rio started to hold himself accountable. He knew what to expect at times like this. If he was being honest, having another baby was mainly his idea. That thought alone had him shaking his head and smirking.

This woman is going to drive me insane. She can’t be serious thinking I’m not attracted to her right now because she’s pregnant. If anything, that makes my dick harder. These kinks, man. Her ass knows I love her any size. Mama knows I love it when she’s stupid thick. Damn, I want to bend her ass over something. Just wait until baby girl or boy gets here. I’m going to remember every single mood swing and attitude. Like that man Miguel once said, that pussy gon’ be mine. Let me check on her mean ass. Remember to remain calm, Rio.

He flipped off all the lights downstairs and made sure everything was locked up tight. It was pitch black in the master suite. Rio entered quietly, not wanting to wake you. The faint sounds of sniffles came from under the covers on your side of the bed. Your husband’s head hung low at the sounds, shaking it side to side in disbelief. Sadness ached deep in his chest. It had never been his intention to make you feel unwanted. He certainly didn’t mean for you to feel unattractive. You had pushed him to that place of uncertainty. Rio didn’t trust himself enough to remain gentle. His anger had been raging off and on for the past two days. It was time for him to set the record straight and make things right.

Self-control, my boy. Self-control. I may not be able to choke her. Let that mouth get to firing off again. I’ma spank this woman. Lord, help me.

He approached your side of the bed, attempting to lower the comforter, but it wouldn’t budge. You grumbled, “Don’t, Christopher. Just get in bed. Let’s get some rest. We can discuss this in the morning.” The fabric of the blankets muffled your voice a bit, but Rio could hear how you fought back tears.

Rio gently rubbed what he believed to be your hip. “Don’t hide from me,” he rasped.

“I’m not. Goodnight, Papa.”

He lowered his head, rubbing soothing circles against your back. He stood there a few moments, trying to find a way to make things better. A thought entered his mind. His head leaned to the side as he gave a quick head nod. Heading to his side of the bed, Rio checked his notifications one last time, setting the ringer to silent. He grabbed an item from the nightstand, setting it to the side. Rio got into bed, sliding closer. The feeling of his chest pressing against your back as he joined you under the covers.

“You still mad at me, Mama,” he questioned, leaving butterfly kisses against your skin. “You gon’ forgive me, hm?”

“Shut up, Rio,” you responded with a giggle and sniffle.

“You know you’re crazy for thinking that bullshit, right? I love you, mama. Don’t you know that you’re my favorite person in this world? I love you for life, woman,” he explained. “I’ll always be attracted to you, no matter what. You’re my heart and world, baby girl.” Rio nibbled at your neck. “Those better be happy sniffles, he teased.

“They are, trust me. Thank you for the reassurance, Papa,” you responded, voice still shaky.

His fingers caressed your thighs, drawing small patterns on your flesh, lips peppering kisses against a bare shoulder back to the soft spot below your ear.

“Papa, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m still wet from earlier,” you whispered, lower lips tingling again.

Rio shushed you as his tongue swept across the column of your neck. “You looked so damn good in those jeans with the heels. You just had to get me hard while I was working. Didn’t you? How am I supposed to focus with images of fucking you against my desk floating through my head?”

“I just wanted to see you, baby.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

His hand slid between soft thighs, swiping at the moisture pooling between your folds.

“Always wet. Forever ready for me. Shit. Give me those lips, ma.”

Both of you tried to take control of the kiss until his fingers pulled away. You huffed, “Not this shit again-Oh! Shit,” you moaned. Not only had he placed his hand back where it was, but you felt a lovely buzzing sensation against your clit. “Yes,” you whispered.

“Been waiting for the right time to break this out. You’ve been rambling on about that damn toy, so I bought you a rose, Mama. How’s that feel?” Unable to speak, you answered with a sweet sigh. Rio’s lips connected to your temple. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughed, increasing the speed.

Between his lips and the toy, you hadn’t noticed Rio tugging down his sweatpants. The kiss broke as you mewled. He bit his lip, watching you gasp at the feel of the rose pressed against your nub while his aching erection slid back and forth against your folds. The leaking tip dipped in and out of your spasming channel. The covers kicked down to the foot of the bed as Rio’s hungry gaze drank in the writhing of your bodies. His breathing quickened, listening to your faint moans.

“I think we’re both a bit calmer now. Don’t you agree, Mama,” he questioned, sucking in a breath at the wetness pulling around his tip.

If you had heard him, Rio didn’t wait for a response. He reclaimed your mouth, sinking his thick, veiny rod inside you.

“Got Damn,” you both moaned in unison.

“That’s a good girl. Take it all, Mama. So fucking tight. Grip that shit.”

Burying your head in your pillow, you trembled, moaning repetitively. Rio’s hands sunk into the plushness of your waist. His finger sunk deeper, pressing your behind into his lap. Pumping you slowly, you felt his hips do that circular motion. 

“Faster, Daddy. Please go faster.”

“Whatever you say, love,” he answered, pulling your hair and snapping his hips harder. “The settings go higher, baby.” Shifting the rose to its highest voltage, he growled at the screams that bounced around the room.

“T-too much. Fuck!”

“No, ma. You got this. Take that shit. Don’t you want me to make that pussy feel good, yeah? Yes, baby. Oh, shit. Take it, baby. Just let me pound that pretty little flower.”

Every thrust sent you higher. Your fingers dug into Rio’s hand as you thrashed about the bed.

“You keep fucking me like this. I’m not going to last much longer,” you whined.

“You got that. Go on and wet that shit up, mama. Fall apart. Come for, Daddy. I’ll put you back together and break you apart again. Don’t bury your face in the pillow. Let me hear you come loud and clear. Come for me right fucking now,” he demanded, giving your ass a hard smack.”

“Fu-Chris! Baby,” you screamed, body tensing, shaking violently. Kisses danced along your temple. Whimpers continued to fall from your lips, the aftershocks sending waves throughout your body. Rio attempted to center and bring you back down from the high.

“You’re good, mama. I got you. Good job,” he praised. 

You couldn’t imagine a better way to end a long day. At least that's what you thought until Rio decided to take it one step further.

“I’m not finished with you yet, baby girl,” he whispered.

Rio slid out of you, laying on his back, while he waited for you to turn toward him. Your face hovered over his. Staring lovingly into his eyes, you spoke softly.

“Tell me what you need, Papa,” you questioned, stroking his jaw.

He reached for your leg, bringing it over his to straddle him. Hands traveled the length of your body, stopping to cup your breast. Through body language alone, the communication was clear. Giving him a gentle nod, lip tucking between your teeth. Rio felt your digits wrap around his length, rising just enough. You slowly slipped his throbbing length into the slick cavern. The two of you moaned in unison.

Rio sat up, wrapping his arms around your waist. You rode him slow and steady. Biting your lip, he encouraged you, “Mm, that's it, mama. You feel so good.” He wrapped his lips around your nipple, tongue circling it hungrily. Giving it a playful bite pulled a meal from your lungs. Releasing the taut bud, Rio whimpered, “Keep squeezing me. Just like that. Fuck.”

He tugged one of your hands from his shoulder, placing the digits around the column of his throat. He smirked as your eyes widened.

“I can’t choke you, so why don’t we switch shit up? You be me for a change, mama. Be rough with Daddy, yeah?”

A tremble coursed through you at the thought of it.

“It’s your body, mama. You’re in control. Ride me as hard as you can stand it.” He pecked your lips, cooing, “Are you going to ride your daddy nice and hard, hm? This is your dick. Take it, mama,” he insisted, giving your bottom another slap.

Pushing at his chest, you laid him back against the mattress. Your hand tightened around his throat as your hips circled, taking him as deep as possible. Your head fell back as your speed increased.

“Oh,” you cried. “Daddy!”

“Look at me,” he gasped.

Your face floated above his, and you started to bounce erratically. Rio’s face twisted up as he grunted your name. The hold on his throat tightened, causing him to bite his lip harder. You felt his hands spank and grip your cheeks. The two of you entered a lip lock as the headboard banged against the wall. Coming up for air, you felt him twitch inside you.

“Fuck, Mama. I’m about to nut. Is that what you want, baby? Do you want to be filled up? Yeah, I know you do, darlin’. F-fuck! Come with me, mama! Right now!”

You both plummeted over the edge, calling out each other’s name. Trying to keep balance, your hands rested against Rio’s chest. He sat up, pulling you into an embrace. Leaving kisses all over your face, you giggled breathlessly. His arm reached around your waist, guiding you to lie down comfortably.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. Stay right here. I got you, mama.”

Rio disappeared into the bathroom, returning moments later with a warm towel. With the aftercare complete, he quickly got himself together. Making his way to the kitchen, Rio returned with a glass of ice water for you.

“Drink up. You need to replenish, ma.”

“Thank you, Papa. What about you, though?”

“Drank it downstairs, " he responded, cuddling up to you.

“So we’re switching roles now? Is that what we are doing,” you teased.

Rio’s laugh bellowed throughout the room. “Listen, ma. You’re little thirsty ass needed that rough shit. I figured since I’m not doing that right now. You can get your fix if I relinquish a little bit of that power. Temporarily, of course.” He gave your shoulder a playful bite. “You should know I’m keeping tabs for the remainder of this pregnancy.”

“Tabs? What tabs?”

“I’m keeping a mental log of every time you act up. The moment the doctor clears you. That thick ass will be stinging, and you won’t be able to walk straight for a few weeks. Maybe a month,” he shrugged, nonchalance written on his handsome face. His eyes reduced to slits, “Breath play’s about to be a beast for you, mama. Hate it for you.”

“No, you don’t, liar.”

“You said it. Not me,” Rio shrugged.

He felt your fist collide with his arm.

“Aye, chill out now. You know what, let me put this shit in my notes. What is this? That makes at least eight offenses. For the day alone.”

“Whatever. Goodnight, crybaby.”

“Says the woman that’s been crying all night.”

“Don’t piss me off again, Rio. Go to sleep. Keep in mind that you won’t be leaving for work on time. I can tell that I’ll be just as needy in the morning. Have my dick ready.”

“Just admit that you only want me for my body,” he teased.

You kissed your teeth and mugged his forehead.

“Aye! Chill. Where my kisses at?”

Rio pulled your leg over his waist, cradling your bump, and kissed you goodnight.

What did y'all think about that roller coaster? Hope you enjoyed it. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, lovelies 💕!

lovelies💕:

@darqchilddaydreamz @4everbrookemarie @fineanddandy @rio-reid-whoreee @novaniskye @that-one-anxious-mango @1andonlytashae @blkbutterfly816 @lovedlover @vanityinvenus

@librarian1002 @banana123pudding @fezcosonlylove @sunshine-flower @invisiblegiurl

@astoldbychae @amorestevens @starrynite7114 @alertyoulikeitsamber

[pickingupmymercedes]

Let it happen - Lewis Hamilton

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Let it happen - Gracie Abrams - @alessandrahamilton

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: angst with hints of fluff (because apparently that's a favorite around here)

wordcount: +2k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, the kind of light that makes you forget the world can be sharp and unkind.

I blinked, rubbing the last traces of sleep from my eyes, before the familiarity of the room tugged me back to reality.

His room. His LA house.

You’d think I’d be smarter by now. But here I am, in his bed, heart in hand, ready to offer it up like a fool for the hundredth time.

I shifted under the weight of the sheets, the scent of him clinging to the air—cologne, something clean and woodsy, mixed with that hint of soap I’ve come to know too well.

We’re really doing this again, aren’t we?

I pushed myself upright, trying not to think about how easily I fell back into the shape of his life, like I never really left.

I caught sight of his sweater thrown over by the stool, my shoes kicked off somewhere near the door, evidence of another night spent tiptoeing through familiar, dangerous territory.

The house was quiet, just the faint hum of LA outside, muffled by the walls.

Maybe I should go back to sleep and hope to wake up in the right bed this time. Maybe I should grab my stuff and sneak out before he sees me. Save myself the trouble of figuring out what this is all over again.

But I pulled on his sweater without a second thought—apparently, I wasn’t done making bad decisions.

I tiptoe my way toward the kitchen, half-expecting to find him there, making one of those post-workout protein shakes he pretends taste good. But the space is empty—spotless countertops, gleaming appliances, and a bowl of perfectly arranged avocados I’m sure he didn’t buy himself.

What am I doing here?

And it’s a good question, one I’ve asked myself a million times. What the hell am I doing, letting myself get caught up in this again?

I know how this ends. We’ve been here before. Me standing in his kitchen, wearing his clothes, convincing myself that I can handle whatever this is without losing my mind.

The house still smelled like it always did, fresh coffee and the faint scent of whatever aroma he insists on using in his humidifier.

My eyes catching on little things as I passed. Roscoe’s leash on the counter, a half-read book on the couch, my own scarf tossed carelessly over the armrest. The one from the last time I was in this house.

A reminder of the life we’d built, the one we let slip through our fingers. The one I’m trying to convince myself we can build again.

Because of course, I’m always hoping, always diving back in, like there’s some magical version of reality that won’t end with both of us in pieces.

Like I can out-stubborn heartbreak this time.

I reached the sliding door to the porch, my hand hesitating over the handle. I can see him sitting on the steps, Roscoe curled up beside him, the morning sun painting him like this ethereal soul. Peaceful. At ease.

Like he wasn’t wrestling with the same mess that tangled inside me.

His hand moved absently scratching behind Roscoe’s ears, and the sight made my chest feel too tight, too full. All at once.

I hate how much I’ve missed this. Him. Us. It’s ridiculous, really.

I should have learned by now that this is what we always do. Like we’re some kind of tragic romantic who never learn when to walk away.

I slid the door open, trying to keep quiet, but the wheels rattled against the track, betraying me.

He glanced over his shoulder, and a slow smile curved his lips when he saw me. I felt my chest squeeze at the sight, and I swear I try to ignore it.

“Hey,” he says softly, like he’s afraid of breaking the quiet. “Didn’t hear you get up.”

“Yeah, well, you were busy this handsome.” I nod towards Roscoe, who’s already trotting over to me, his body dancing like we’re old friends.

I crouch down to give him a scratch behind the ears, trying to ignore the way my chest tightens when Lewis just keeps watching me, his expression open and unguarded in a way that makes me feel like I’m on the verge of falling apart.

“You want some coffee?” he offers, lifting his mug like it’s some peace offering. “There’s more inside.”

I shrug, trying to keep my voice casual. “I’ll get some in a minute.”

He nods and looks back out at the horizon, like he’s giving me space to settle into the morning. But I don’t move. I just stand there, feeling like an outsider in a place I used to know so well.

And the worst part, I’m not even sure which of us is to blame for that.

All countless nights I spent lying awake, wondering if I’d made a mistake in letting him go. Wondering if I should’ve fought harder, stayed longer, done something other than walk away before he could hurt me.

“You okay?” His voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look up to find him softly watching me.

It’s a loaded question, and we both know it, but he says it like he’s genuinely hoping for a real answer.

I swallow hard, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, I’m—yeah. Just...thinking.”

He nodded, like he understood—like he always did. His gaze back to the yard, to the stretch of green that separated the house from the rest of LA, and I watched him in the quiet, studying the lines of his face in the early light.

The very ones I’d memorized, the ones I’d convinced myself I could forget.

But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? To forget?

Because, here I am, standing on his porch in borrowed clothes, like I’m hoping that somehow, being in his space will help me figure out if this is worth the inevitable heartbreak I know is lurking, waiting for any crack.

And it’s never really been about him hurting me, has it? It’s about me letting it happen. It’s about me choosing this—choosing him—over and over again, knowing full well how the story goes.

And … I can’t seem to stop.

It would be so much easier to walk away. To pack up my things, leave before we can fall into the same patterns that broke us the first time.

To save myself from the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters, only to feel it slip away when reality catches up.

But there’s something about him—about us—that keeps pulling me back. Like there’s a part of me that believes, against all logic and reason, that maybe this time will be different.

Lewis’s voice broke through my thoughts, low and even. “You know, you think too much.”

I let out a scoff that came out too breathy, too light. “Thanks for the insight, Dr. Hamilton. Real helpful.”

He chuckled, and it was the kind of sound that used to unravel me, back when we still believed we had time.

The kind that still does, deep down.

“It’s true, though. I can practically hear you thinking all the way over here.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I shot back, trying for a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

He just hummed, and the sound settled between us, comfortable, like we’d slipped back into an old rhythm. “I know. But you don’t have to figure everything out right now.”

And there it was, that knowing tone. It dug under my skin, pricking at all the places I’d tried to keep hidden.

Because of course he’d see right through me—he always did. And that’s what terrified me the most. He knew me, maybe even better than I knew myself, and that, that made it so much harder to walk away.

I found myself crossing the porch, sinking down next to Lewis. Our shoulders brushed, a familiar pull that had a hold on me, no matter how many times I tried to tell myself I was over that.

Over him.

I glanced sideways at him, catching the way the morning light softened the edges of his face. And for a moment, I let myself wonder what he saw when he looked at me.

If he saw the same girl he fell for the first time around, or just the mess I’d become since.

“What makes you think I’m trying to figure anything out?”

He shrugged, but there was a gentle smile tugging at his lips, like he didn’t need to say it. Because he could see right through my deflection.

“I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re overthinking everything. And I know that look on your face. The one when you were convinced the whole world is falling apart.”

I let out a huff, pulling my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them. The porch creaked under my movement, and I found myself focusing on the sound, anything to distract from the way he was looking at me, like I was something fragile and precious. “Yeah, well, sometimes my world feels like it’s falling apart.”

He didn’t look away, and his silence made my skin itch, like he was waiting for me to say something more. When I didn’t, he finally spoke, voice soft, but steady. “You think I don’t get it? That I haven’t replayed all the ways we could’ve made it work if we’d just... tried?”

I swallowed, the words cutting through me. “And what makes you think trying again will be any different?”

Lewis leaned back, his shoulders brushing against the wooden steps as he considered my question. His hand drifted back to Roscoe, absently scratching behind his ears.

It was a moment before he answered, his voice rough around the edges, like he’d thought about this more times than he’d ever admit. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe I don’t think it’ll be different.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. He wasn’t making promises, wasn’t offering some fairy-tale ending. He just looked at me with those steady eyes, the ones that always seemed to see right through me, right down to the parts of myself I tried to hide.

“But I do know something” he continued, and there was a weight to his words, like he was choosing them carefully. “Every time you walk away, I keep thinking, ‘What if?’ What if we just got it wrong, and we could get it right if we gave ourselves the chance?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to ignore the hope that his words stirred up in me. “And what if we just keep hurting each other all over again? What if we’re both just too stubborn to admit that it’s time to let go?”

Lewis turned to look at me then, his expression softer than I expected. “That’s what makes it worth trying to me. Neither of us seems to know how to really give up. Not on us. Not completely.”

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers tracing the hem of his sweater on my lap. It felt like there was a storm building in my chest, all those feelings I’d kept locked up threatening to spill out.

I didn’t know what to do with them, how to make sense of this thing between us that felt so much like a second chance and a ticking time bomb all at once.

He reached out then, his hand brushing against mine, a gentle touch that was almost like a challenge. “I’m not asking you to forget the past. I’m not even asking you to believe that we won’t mess this up again. But I am asking you to stop pretending like you don’t want this. That you don’t want me.”

And I couldn’t. Because he was right.

As much as a part of me would argue that I could, should, walk away, that I’d be better off if I just left before the inevitable hurt came crashing down, I still wanted him. Ached for him.

I met his gaze, letting him see the uncertainty, the fear, the hope that I couldn’t quite bury.

He held my gaze, unwavering. “Let’s be afraid together. One more time. Let’s make a mess of it, and figure it out as we go. Because I’m tired, too. Of pretending like I don’t want you here. Tired of acting like I don’t see a future where we get it right.”

And I knew, even if I tried to deny it, that for him, I’d hand him my life.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[noosayog]

[9:12 PM] Kageyama Tobio

wc: 800

warnings/content: fluff

“Tobio, it’s cold,” you complain. 

“It’s winter.” 

You pout. “Okay, and?” 

Silence. 

“Tobio, I’m cold.” 

More silence. 

“TOBIO!” 

“I told you to bring an extra jacket,” he says as he wraps his own scarf around your neck. “You can’t have my jacket.” 

“You’re mean,” you grumble, shrinking your neck to dip as much of your face as you can into his scarf. 

He hums in distant acknowledgement. 

Tobio’s always been awkward but you figure the years of dating and living together would have knocked that out of him. For the past few weeks however, it’s like he’s regressed to his high school state of socialization. 

It’s also been a little strange that homebody Tobio has finally been taking hints with the yelp screenshots you’ve been sending for years and taking you to dinners at nice restaurants you have been wanting to try. At least he has a professional athlete salary and sponsorships to keep this lifestyle up, you suppose. 

“Did you enjoy dinner?” 

A soft grunt. 

“Did you like it more than the last place?” 

A hum. 

“Well, I liked the place we went to last week more.” 

Silence. 

You stop and Tobio doesn’t seem to notice. He keeps walking, face to the ground, deep in thought. 

You let him get about 10 steps away before you’ve had it. With his track record of ignoring you for the past month, you figure he’d get all the way home before even noticing that he left you in the cold. 

“Tobio!” You emphasize your frustration with a childish little stomp of your boots on the pavement. 

He startles and turns around. “Why are you all the way back there?” rushing back over to you and mumbling a quiet apology. He grabs your hand and begins walking again, but you stay rooted to your spot. You yank your hand away and cross your arms over your chest. 

“I’m not moving until you tell me what’s on your mind.” 

Tobio looks around and says, “can we not do this here?” 

“I’m not embarrassed about making a scene out in public if that’s what it takes for my boyfriend to tell me why he’s been such a bad boyfriend recently!” 

He blinks a bit at that, as if the thought of being a bad boyfriend has only just occurred to him. You watch the expressions fly across his face; first a furrowed brow and open mouth to rebut, then a pause as if he remembers all the dinner dates he was in outer space for, then resignation with a sigh and one hand running down his face. 

“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll tell you, but at home. It’s not good for us to do this outside when you’re already freezing.” 

Despite his gentler tone, it does nothing to soothe the unease. Does Tobio maybe… want to break up? If that was really it, you think it’d be better to do it at home, away from prying eyes anyway. 

You nod, lips wobbling a bit. Tobio flashes you a slight smile, one of the firsts you’ve seen in weeks. You don’t know if it makes you want to cry or smile back at him. 

“C’mon,” he says as he once again reaches for your hand. This time, you allow him to guide your frigid fingers into his coat pocket where they brush against something hard. 

Still in his pocket, you unwind your fingers from his and feel for the item again. Feels like a velvet box. 

Tobio freezes. 

You wind your hands around the box, thumbs beginning to drift over the divot in the box. 

Tobio grabs your wrist and yanks it out of his pocket, just before you can close your fist over the item. You’re staring at your empty hand that was ejected from his pockets, semi-comprehending the situation.

When you return your gaze to Tobio, his face is red and it’s not from the cold. The flush reaches down to his neck before being hidden by his turtleneck; you suspect it reaches all the way to his sternum, like it does when you’re in bed together. 

“Tobio…” 

One of his hands is rubbing the back of his neck and his eyes are averted. You reach up and cup the reddest part of his neck. The cool from your fingertips jolts him and he meets your eyes with his comically widened ones. 

“Is that what I think it is?” 

“No! Well, maybe. I- uh.” 

“Is that what all these fancy dinners were about?” 

Every question you ask seems to make your large, 6’2” boyfriend shrink before your eyes. He lets out a large exhale. “This is why I wanted to do this at home.” 

You giggle a bit and let him go. Content that you’ve figured out what has been bothering your boyfriend and excited for what was waiting for you at home, you skip down the path towards your shared place. “C’mon, Tobio! Let’s go home. Can you believe I thought you were going to break up with me?” you laugh. 

This time, it’s you who notices that Tobio’s footsteps aren’t following you anymore. You turn around, about to urge your silly boyfriend to walk faster so you can get your present that’s at least a month in the making. 

Only to find Tobio on one knee.

[wisteriadumster]

Warmth ❥Arthur Morgan

ARTHUR MORGAN X FEMALE READER

CW➻❥ I pulled an all nighter man like yall fuck that’s what’s up

WC➻❥1265➻❥ this isn't well proof read so any mistakes or odd things are purely accidental

Summary➻❥ you’ve just arrived to Colter and once the cabin is empty, Arthur has an idea on how to keep you two warm.

*✧･ﾟ:* WisteriaDumster original work.*:･ﾟ✧

You shivered into the abandoned cabin, doing your best to escape the frigid blizzard that tortured the old town. “How long you think we’re staying here for?” You adjusted your scarf, “I ain’t too sure but not long, couple days.” Arthur replied, you followed him as he entered the room Grimshaw had assigned for you both.

The bed was small, but you could cuddle up together to keep warm.

You hugged Arthur, wrapping your arms around his torso. He hesitantly accepted the hug and draped his arms over your waist, his hands gripping your body.

Your face was nuzzled into his shotgun coat, the texture rubbing against your cheek.

In the main room you could hear a conversation between Hosea and Dutch, “think you should go talk with them?” Arthur pulled you off him, looking at you, “I suppose you’re right ‘bout that.” He caressed your cheek and walked out of the room.

You had followed behind and were sitting with Molly. “How are you Miss O’Shea?” She closed her pocket mirror, “I’ve lived better ya know?” She adjusted her head scarf.

“Miss O’Shea,” Dutch stepped in, “would you like to come with me to check on everyone else?” His smile was sly, “I’d rather stay here, and be out of the storm,” she admitted, “I insist.”

The cabin had slowly emptied, Dutch had convinced Molly to leave with him, and Hosea was off to go check on different gang members.

You sat by the fireplace with Arthur, wishing the fire would engulf you with heat. “Darlin’ I have an idea on how we could keep some heat around,” you raised an eyebrow, “and what would that be?” He stood from the chair, he walked to your chair, towering over you as you looked up.

“We should have about ten minutes before anyone comes back,” he hinted. Your lips curled into a smirk as his idea, “quite risky don’t you think?” You stood up, “well I’ll be quick.”

His hands wrapped around your ass, suddenly lifting you up against his body.

You cupped his face, connecting your lips with his. One of his hands gripped and dug into your ass cheek, his legs stumbling, searching for a place to set you down. You pulled from the messy kiss, hot breath escaping your mouth. Arthur kicked down the chair you had been sat in just moments prior, he walked to the old table that laid against the wall.

He set you down, a hand holding your hips as you continued the heated kiss. His free hand was digging through the layers of clothing on your body, searching for an entrance.

“Darlin’ I hope you don’t mind,” he pulled back from the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours. You opened your mouth to question Arthur, a sudden rip of your underwear answered you. “I’ll sew it later,” you smirked and pulled him back into the kiss.

Arthur pushed his hand through his jacket, his gloved fingers pushing the button of his pants through the yoke. You uncupped his face, your hands pushed past his hand and undid the buttons of his union suit. His hard cock pushed out, waiting for what it had been desiring.

Arthur pushed your skirt and coat up your legs, his cold leather gloves made your warm skin shiver. “Arthur,” you looked at him, “take those gloves off please.” He obliged and pulled the gloves off, dropping them onto the small table beside the one you currently sat on.

Arthur’s calloused hands gripped your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the table.

Slowly he entered, you gasped as his cold dick hit against your warmth. You wanted to moan but you had no protection from the walls of the cabin, Arthur wrapped an arm around your back and pulled you in, thrusting slowly as his cock adjusted to the sudden temperature change. “Fuck” you shuddered against his lips as his hips rotated against yours. Your head rolled against your shoulders, falling against your back as Arthur quickened his pace.

“We surely ain’t got long Sweetheart,” he began kissing at your neck, “I don’t need long.” You managed through muffled moans, you bit your lip to contain yourself, your hands white-knuckled the edge of the table.

Arthur’s pace was consistent, hitting your walls just right. His lips vibrated groans against your neck, one of his hands released its grip against your thigh and tilted your head back towards his. His eyes fluttered with lust before he pulled you back in for unfinished kisses, his hands travelling into your hair, intertwining itself with the locs.

“Fuck Sweetheart,” Arthur groaned.

Your legs felt shaky, your body struggling to keep itself composed at Arthur’s increasing speed. The adrenaline from the chance of being caught made your heart race, as every thrust made you want to scream a moan, scream Arthur’s name.

A final thrust and his tip itched you exactly where it had to be to trigger your orgasim. You sprung up, throwing your chest against Arthurs, yours hands clawing at his back.

You moaned into his shoulder as your legs quivered, a wave of every emotion covered you as each muscle in your body tensed and released within seconds.

Your own orgasm vibrated against Arthur, a deep and raspy groan eluded from Arthurs chest. His body was heavy against your own. As the climax of your orgasm was ending, he continued thrusting through it, prolonging its inevitable end.

“Arthur,” you shake against him, coping through the pleasure you had felt and the pleasure you were still receiving. “I’m almost there Darlin’ just be a good girl and don’t move,” he mustered through a moan.

Within a few more intense thrusts and you doing your best to stay still and quiet, you felt and heard his own orgasim. A deep groan rumbled from his chest as he panted.

Two fingers lifted your chin up, his eyes twinkling with love, his lips slowly connecting with you for an intimate kiss.

The sound of a conversation began to enter your ears, “Arthur,” you pulled from the kiss. He looked at you and looked as your finger pointed towards the door, Arthur understood and helped you off the table.

You were quick to help him clean off and rebutton his clothes.

You pushed down on your skirt and went to your room, searching for your sewing box.

Arthur fixed the chair he had kicked down, he leaned in the doorframe of your room.

“Need help?” He cleared his throat as he watched you search through nightstand drawers, “how well can you sew?” You grabbed the small metal tin, “not as good as you Darlin’.”

“Arthur,” The door creaked open, Dutch brushed the fresh snow off his jacket, “we’re gonna go find Micah, you comin?” You made eye contact with Dutch, “Arthur you should go, I won’t freeze.” You smile, Arthur looked between you and Dutch before nodding at you and turning around.

He grabbed his gloves that laid on the table, he looked at you once more as he put them on, a small smirk sneaking through his lips for a moment. You smiled from his contagious look, your cheeks feeling flush as you thought of what had happened only moments before.

With a growing discussion the door slammed, leaving you alone.

You sat on the bed, turning your body away from the door as you hiked your skirt up. Examining the rough rip Arthur had left, you smiled at it.

You popped the top of the tin off and began setting up the needle and thread.

[wrightingdungeon]

SDV Leaving Items behind that the Bachelor's find

Gender Neutral Farmer

Alex: He thought you had grabbed all the junk you had dumped from your pockets when you both hung out, yet here he was, looking at your tube of lip balm. Haley had left all sorts of lip gloss and lipsticks in his room, but knowing this touched your lips made his mind and heart race. His lips were chapped from the fall weather, though… It's just chapstick… Alex's face was bright red as he put on the chapstick. The flavor was sweet but not overpowering. This is probably what your lips tasted like. The thought made his heart pound. 

The next day, he handed the lip balm back over, his cheeks a hint of pink. “You left it behind,” he said, looking away. “Uh, Alex… You know this is tinted?” Alex’s face flared up bright red, not knowing lip balm could be colored. ‘Yoba kill me now.’ he thought, mortified at the realization.

Elliott: You both had long hair and millions of hair ties, but this hair tie on his wrist wasn't his, and he knew it. It was a spiral hair tie, the kind you preferred to wear. He blushed softly, wondering how the hair tie had ended up around his wrist. He remembered you had come over, letting your hair down and leaving before you could put it back up. He must have grabbed it and put it on without thinking.

Playing with the hair tie, he smiled softly, his thoughts drifting to you. Carefully, he pulled his hair back and secured it with your hair tie. Getting up, he walked to his piano, his mind buzzing with new ideas inspired by his muse. “Thank you for this gift.” He said softly as his fingers found the warn keys

Harvey: He smiled, waving goodbye to you as he watched you make your way back to the farm. Heading back upstairs, he stretched, ready to end the night. As he brushed his teeth, he walked around, getting everything ready for the morning. He almost choked when he noticed your jacket still hanging on the back of a chair. Finishing his tasks, he made his way to your jacket. Picking it up, he rubbed the fabric, feeling how it felt under his fingers. Blushing and looking around like he might be caught in his own home, he slowly brought the jacket to his nose. Smelling your scent on the jacket, he chuckled softly. It felt like he was in high school; he knew he was being silly.

Still, he couldn't help but hold your jacket close as he drifted off to sleep. The next morning, he felt embarrassed as he prepared to return the jacket to you. When he handed the jacket back, he almost fainted when he saw you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply. “It smells like your place now, Harvey,” you said with a small smile. Error: Harvey.EXE has shut down.

Sam: He was jamming out to his music in his room as he cleaned when he noticed a pair of sunglasses that were not his. Picking them up and looking them over, he chuckled, recognizing them as the Farmer's. Trying them on, he couldn't help but strike a few poses in the mirror, complete with finger guns. Returning to his cleaning jam session, he laughed and he belted out the lyrics, picking up the broom and using it as a microphone and then as a guitar. Lost in his music, he failed to notice you had come looking for the sunglasses until he jumped off his bed, sliding on his knees, literally sliding into you.

“What's up, Joel Goodsen?” You joked looking down at him with crossed arms. Sam chuckled, quickly scrambling to his feet. “F-Farmer! Heeeeey!” He tried to play it off, giving you back the sunglasses, his face bright red. “You know what, they suit you better anyway. Keep 'em."

Sebastian: Groaning, Sebastian tossed clothes around the room, searching for his scarf. Cold weather outside makes it uncomfortable without the scarf. “There it is,” he said, spotting his scarf, but his excitement turned to surprise as he noticed it tangled with yours. He knew you were looking for yours, but hadn't realized he had it, not knowing when you left it behind. Untangling them, looking between them, he left his behind and wore yours instead. Its fabric still carried a faint trace of your scent. 

“Is that the farmer's scarf?” Maru asked as Sebastian passed her. “Nope, mine now,” he muttered, grateful the scarf hid his smirk. On his way home, he bumped into you. “Nice scarf, never seen that before,” He chuckled at your sarcastic tone letting you take the scarf off him. “Never have I, it just showed up in my room, thought I'd show it some love.” He quipped back chuckling at the blush on your face

Shane: Shane sighed, glancing at Charle. “Lost my beanie…” He frowned, having searched everywhere for it, guessing he misplaced it while out last night. “Was on a roll…” He grumbled, frustrated by the loss of his beloved beanie. “Uncle Shane! Uncle Shane! Found it!” Jas burst into the coop, waving a beanie above her head triumphantly. “It was on Marnie’s counter!” She handed it to him, but it wasn’t his; it belonged to the farmer. “Uh… Thanks, Jas,” he said, smiling as he accepted it, already planning to return it. “Well, put it on! I found it!” Jas urged, delighted to have found something special for Shane.

Blushing, he put the hat on, not wanting to upset his goddaughter. It was just as comforting as his, if not more, knowing it was yours. “Hey, Shane, I think I grabbed your beanie by mis-” He looked up as you walked in, holding his beanie, a smirk forming on your lips. He ripped off your beanie, his face bright red, trying to ignore Jas’s giggles at his messed-up hair.

[narislvr]

HEY THERE, SUBW4Y GIRL

one-last-stop au ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ | e.williams x fem!reader

cw? reader is painfully bad at asking women out (she will get better dw) new characters introduced, plot is beginning, literally just fluff for now, book dialog and possible(not really) spoilers, not proofread

nari note ᝰ.ᐟ Hi! I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the support on the first part of this series, it really motivates me to keep going and I hope I don't disappoint! Im not staying entirely book accurate but If you've read the book and want certain scenes to show up then please let me know! If you'd like to be part of the taglist then lmk also! That's all for now, and thank you again ♡

m.list [๋࣭🪻] part one [ 🌆 ] palestine-resources & daily click

"The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that August half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!" ── page 35

Weekday evening shifts were your favorite.

The lights were always dim, painting the old diner atmosphere in hues of orange and amber, and with how slow it was, you weren't forced to run around hoping that table six wouldn't holler you over as you ran to get pancakes for table nine. It was actually quite nice at times.

Being a waitress at a 24/7 diner was not in your plans when you moved away from your last campus all the way in the other corner of the country, but Millers was nice. The building, despite it’s age and outdated fashion, was homey and even with the annoyance of leaving the place smelling like pancake batter and greasey bacon, it was a place youve come to hold dear in your heart.

Having a soft spot for the place and liking your job, however, didn’t mean that you were necessarily good at it a hundred percent of the time. Sleep deprived rushes particularly, made you loath coming in saturday evenings, but today was good.

The evening had been going relatively smooth so far. In the two and a half weeks you’ve worked here, your mistakes have leveled down to now and then little to mix-ups —not counting wedsdays slip up— and your boss, Eliza, had yet to come in and save the day by placing an extra plate of toast on your tray when you accidentally forget them in the kitchen.

With it being close to nine on a Thursday, work was slow, thus, you found yourself leaning on the front counter scribbling random drawings on your notepad with a Miller’s House Of Pancakes pen in hand. With the scribbling, you mindlessly began to reflect on your week so far; your first full day of lectures went well, and balancing work and lectures hasn't been so bad yet ──but then again, the semester just started. Rent was coming up and you had saved enough to pay your share of the apartment and really other than Monday morning's coffee accident, things have been good.

Monday morning…

Subway girl.

Truth be told, you hadn't stopped thinking about the pretty stranger you met on the train a little over three days ago. Sure, she may have only offered her kindness out of pitty at the sight of your teary face, but it was something touching to you nonetheless. It was something that she needed that day, spmething that went right. You didn't see her on your commute to work earlier today, and a part of you couldn't help but feel disappointed. She was just some girl ──green eyes, freckled cheeks, tall and teasing── you had talked to for no more than five minute and yet your mind couldn't stop replaying her smile and her fingers brushing the curve of your shoulders as she wrapped her scarf around you.

You were hopeless

Eliza comes up behind you, shaking her head with a tut of her tongue as she perches her elbow on the counter beside you. "Slacking off on the job, new girl?" Her brow was arched and despite the edge in her tone, you could tell she wasn't exactly scolding you for it either.

"Sorry," you respond as you straighten yourself up. There's a hint of a smirk on the women's face for a second before she shakes her head.

"You eat?" In the six hours you've been in shift, you hadn't eaten anything other than a pack of fruit snacks you'd taken from one of your roommates snacks in the pantry, but did she really have to know that.

‘Uhm, yes?”

"Liar. That's why you slack off. You don't eat. You have no energy," Eliza shakes her head calling out to the man on the grill before you were even able to argue back.

“Jesse!”

"What!" He responds, annoyance in his muffled voice.

“Ew special”

"I already made you one!" Eliza groans, responding with a "for the new girl, Jesse," in an even more annoyed tone before turning to leave at the sound of table 3 calling for more syrup.

What in the world was an ew special?

—

An Ew Special as it turns out, was a sandwich with hashbrown and some cheesy ketchup concoction which honestly, was way better than you expected.

The time on your cracked screen marked 10:07 as you made your way into the subway station for your commute back home. Atleast tonight you'd get a decent night's rest before another full day of lectures and another evening shift. And with that, you sat on one of the benches under fluorescent lighting waiting for your train.

Around your neck was the scarf from before, this time it being worn to keep you warm rather than to cover a stain on your shirt, and definitely not because it was a gift from the handsome girl from before. Nope.

It doesn't take long for your train to arrive, and as you walk in, you can't help but glance around for a familiar auburn haired girl. And again, she's not there, what were you expecting? She was merely a kind stranger, one of the few you've encountered and have never seen again, why would she be any different?

—

The following morning, you follow your usual routine. Wake up, take your vitamin c gummy and see if there's any breakfast worthy left overs before taking a shower, get ready, and leave the 4th floor apartment to make your way to your station. It was a nice routine, one you wouldn't mind repeating the rest of your days in Seattle with the exception of one new thing you've recently had the habit of doing: look around for the girl on the subway, Subway girl.

Subway girl was a smile lost in the tracks. A girl who showed up, saved the day, and blinked out of existence.

It was embarrassing the amount of times you've looked for her only for the same result, so, in order to save yourself another disappointment, you'd instead focuse on yourself and not look around.

And you don't look around, not intentionally atleast, not until a group of late-twenty year olds step off the car two stops into your ride and you catch a glimpse of a familiar auburn girl.

Subway girl. The flannel she had worn the day you'd first met her sat neatly on her lap alowing for a better view of the outlined tattoos on her arms as her white t-shirt sleeves were cuffed below her shoulders.

You couldn't believe your luck.

Her eyes were closed as her head leaned against the window sill, but as she felt your gaze from across of her, she slowly opened her eyes and her mouth formed a soft "oh" in surprise.

"Coffee girl," She smiles, sitting up in her seat as she turned to face you directly. There's a pleasant glint in her eyes as she looked at you, one that you hoped you'd see forever.

“Subway girl.”

Her smile spreads. “Mornin’.”

Your brain tries to reply with a "hi", perhaps ask about her day, but your mouth goes to say "morning", and so what comes out is, "Horny.”

Maybe it's not too late to jump out the emergency exit. You expect her to turn away, wonder why she'd even tried to talk to you, but instead she snorts.

Her eyebrows raise in amusement before she grins teasingly with her voice ever smooth, "I mean, sure, sometimes." She rolls her shoulders back and pulls down her faded green headphones, the ones you saw the day you met her, before setting them on her lap with her flannel and taking out her Walkman to pause her music. It was interesting, you'd never seen anyone actually use a Walkman ──much less walk around with it── but you didn't question it.

"Sorry, I'm─ morning brain. It's too early," you muster out and something shifts in her expression.

"Is it?" Subway girl asks with what seemed like genuine interest.

"Yeah, um... I had a late night.”

Her brows raise again, and you couldn't help but look away as she seemed to try and guess what it was that had kept you up. "Doing what?”

It's not necessarily a lie, but it's not exactly the truth, and really you just needed some cover to not look like an idiot after the word vomit from a moment earlier. "Oh, uh, I had a night shift. I wait tables at Miller's and it's twenty-four hours─”

"Miller's...? As in Miller's house of pancakes on the edge of the city?”

She rests her elbows on her knees and perches her chin on her hands. Her eyes are wide, and curious, her attention solely on you as she awaited your answer.

"You know it?”

She bites her lip, which is fine, and she shakes her head.

"Oh man, I used to wait tables there too," She says. "The owners would argue about how they wanted to name the place so it would always change until they stuck with that.. Jesse still in the kitchen?”

You laugh, her mind blown expression causing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Lucky again. "Yeah, he's been there forever. I can't imagine him ever not being there. Everyday as I clock in he's all─”

"Mornin' buttercup," She says in perfect imitation which earns another small laugh from you. "He's such a babe, right?”

"A babe? Oh god," Your reaction gets yet another snort out of her, and as the two of you meet gazes again you both fall into a fit of laughter. It was sweet, and nice, and maybe, just maybe, meant to be.

"Man, there's this thing they serve there now and.. God, it's delicious. I had it the other day, an Ew special'.”

The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that you half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!”

"No way! Really?"

"Ew is a play on to my initials E.W," She explains. "I had Jesse make it specual for me so many times that eventually everyone else started having them too. Can't believe he still makes them there. He might be in love with me or something," She quips.

"Maybe. He makes them all the time and it's absolutely delicious, it definitely brings you back after a long shift, so, thank you.”

“No problem,” Subway girl says. Shes got this far-off look in her eyes as if she were reminiscing on the sights of customers and the smells of the diner, but she shakes the look off and lets out an exhale. “God, I miss that place. I don’t know if you feel it but, something about it… It's magic.”

You don’t do magic, but who were you to say that when she looks so wistful as if there was a deeper meaning behind her words so you simply hum in agreement.

‘I don't know how they haven’t fired me yet. I’m not the worst waitress, promise, but I accidentally dropped a pie on a five-year-old two days ago. We had to give him a free T-shirt.”

It takes a second, but Subway girl laughs, loud and hearty before shaking her head. “You'll get the hang of it soon,” She says with so much confidence that you believe her instantly. “Small fuckin’ world, huh?”

“Yeah…” You agree. “Small fuckin world.”

A comforting silence lingers in the air as you smile at each other. Subway girl is the first to break it as she glances at the scarf sticking out of your bag, “Nice scarf, by the way.”

You forgot you still had it with you so you quickly go to take it out and hand it to her but subway girl is quick to hold up a hand. “I told you to keep it and besides,” she pulls out a blue plaid one out of her bag, “It's been replaced.”

You look between the scarf in your hand and the green eyed girl in front of you, “I, yeah– thank you again, so much. I wanted– I mean, it was my first day of class and i was already late and didnt want to show up looking–”

“Hey, I mean, Its not that you looked bad,” Subway girl counters. “You just… looked like you needed something to go right that morning. So.” She shrugs, and the intercom suddenly comes on, announcing a stop that was barely audible from how unusually garbled it sounded.

Subway girl points over at the board. “Thats your stop right? The one heading to the college?”

Shit. It was your stop.

You realize as you swing your bag onto your shoulder and glance at the girl across from you that you might never get this lucky again. You seeing her again after 4 days of disappointment could have just been the world messing with you, raising your hopes up only to have her leave for good leaving you with only the memory of the pretty subway masc who saved the day and left you wanting more.

“I’m working breakfast tomorrow. At Millers,” You blurt out as you stand up. “If you want to stop by I could sneak you a sandwich. As payback for the scarf y’know?”

Subway girl looks up at you with an expression so strange and unreadable that you feel your stomach drop, of course, you had to find a way to ruin this. Whatever “this” even was.

Her expression clears up however and she smiles again, “Oh, man. I'd love that.”

“Okay,” you say and start walking to the door, still looking at her. “Okay. Great. Cool. Yeah-” You were going to stop saying words any second now. God, you usually weren't this awkward about asking people out.

Subway girl only watches you go, an amused look in her eyes as she moves a strand of hair from her face.

“What's your name?” she asks.

You stop in your tracks and turn around accidentally hitting another passenger getting off with your bag. “Ah– It’s [ ]. My names [ ].”

Subway girl's smile softens as if she somehow already knew.

“[ ],” she repeats. “I’m Ellie.”

“Ellie.. Hi, Ellie.”

Subway girl, now known as Ellie, smiles. She brings her hand up to her face and gives you a small salute as you say her name, a dorky gesture but one you found endearing nonetheless.

There's a little warning bell to announce the door closing so you quickly step off while still trying to keep your eyes on the auburn haired girl.

“The scarf looks better on you anyways,” Ellie winks, and the Subway doors close in front of you.

TAG LIST ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ @seraphicsentences @amberputh @k1ssesworld @mikellie @williamellieslilho @boobdrug

[sanjimi]

my past haunts me, but i'm forever yours.

sanji x gn!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of daddy issues, alluded abusive home, angsty but not because of sanji, reader is scared of falling in love, sort of suggestive but not too suggestive.

calloused fingers brush against the skin of your shoulder. you sit there silently, and he observes. 

sanji has gotten used to your behavior—sometimes you were distant, separated.

“is everything alright, darling?” he still asks every time, despite always getting the same answer. 

it makes your heart warm, but even now you still feel empty. you don’t want to get attached, you don’t want to trust him. trusting leads to eventual disappointment and heartbreak. you knew this well. 

nonetheless, you somehow find the energy to reply in a hum. 

“m’ fine, sanji.”

he loved the way you said his name, even when you were lying. 

sanji brushes your hair out of your face and tucks a finger under your chin, making you look up at him. 

“you hardly touched your food,” he says softly, a hint of concern in his voice. is it real concern? you do not know. “everyone’s already gone back.” 

you realize you’ve been staring into his eyes a while, and you avert your gaze, pulling away from him.

he was right. the rest of the crew had scarfed down their dinners long ago, leaving you to sit at the table alone while sanji did the dishes. they say something about slow eating and trauma response, but you try not to pay any mind to it. you were fine. you had to be. even if chopper has been giving you worried looks all week and zoro keeps a watchful eye on you when you walk down the stairs. even if usopp and luffy notice you didn’t goof off with them this morning, and nami and robin notice that you toss and turn all night. even if sanji's been asking you the same question every day for the past month.

“i’m just not very hungry. i’m sorry, the food is really good i just… i can’t eat right now.” you look up hesitantly, afraid of backlash. he doesn't yell, he doesn’t get angry. he doesn’t force you to eat. he just nods and picks up the plate, turning to the kitchen and putting it away. 

“i’ll wrap it up for you and we can eat later.”

we. he always says we.

“darling?” he repeats the sweet name he decided to call you. “sweetheart, please talk to me.”

when had anyone ever cared for you like this before you joined the crew?

“i…” you start, and he perks up to listen. “i’m fine, i promise.” you try to smile, and laugh lightly. its hard to laugh. you have a hard time getting the words out, but he drinks in everything with complete and utter patience, despite knowing you are lying to his face. had anyone ever been so patient before?

sanji’s fingers find your hand that rests atop the table. his thumb traces the knuckles on your hand. “is there anything i can do?” he asks gently, ignoring the lie. your heart hurts. 

“please don’t.” you pull away from him again. always running, always pulling away. “don’t. you don’t need to do anything.”

he sighs and turns your chair towards him. you try to get up and leave, but he grabs your hands and kneels on the floor below you. he kisses your palms, then brings them up to cup his face and holds them there. 

“please let me care for you.”

his eyes search your face. you sit there, staring at him. you want to pull your hands away, you want to run away and lock the door so you can hide. away from him. away from his prying gaze. away from how he makes your heart burn and feel hopeful because what else can you do when those warm eyes look at you and ask for permission to give you the world? 

do you really want to run away? you run your thumb across his cheekbone. do you really want to, or is that the coward inside of you telling you to push people away? 

“i- i can’t-” your voice shakes, and his hands tighten over your own. you can’t pull away, even if you tried. you suck in a breath.

“i know how this will end. you’ll leave or- or you’ll stop loving me or… or…” you trail off and finally look him in the eye. finally, you let your vulnerability show. “i don’t want to end up like them.” the sentence is said in a whisper, your voice threatening to crack if you let it grow any louder. 

who could have been the cause of this fear? of course, none other than the people who raised you and gave you your name. your parents, with their artificial love that echoed on the walls of your home and made you suffocate until you finally stepped outside. but then you realized you’re still suffocating, everywhere you go. 

you suffocate when you’re sitting alone in your bed on this pirate ship, thousands of miles away from your childhood home. you suffocate when you are at the market, when you sleep. when you eat, when you cry. even when you're around others, you feel alone. 

but why is it that when you’re with him, you can feel a release of the pressure on your throat? could he really be relieving you? or… what if he’s just going to hold you under until you suffocate to death? 

“y/n.”

his voice calling your name is what brings you back to earth. his hands on your skin, he turns his face to kiss the inside of your wrist this time. 

“i don’t ever, ever want to do that to you.” his tone is sincere, his words clear in your head. “please let me help you.” his request comes again, and you feel your heart ache once more. 

you don’t want to say yes. to agree to this outrageous request. how could he expect that of you? but then again… maybe you actually do. how nice it would be to say yes. if you said yes, would the pain go away? the fear?

your body defies you as you nod, wordlessly agreeing to his request. 

he smiles. warm and sweet like the feeling of sitting by the fireplace and drinking hot tea. 

he trails his hands to your thighs, then your waist. he kneads your skin, thumbs pressing small circles into the pain that had settled there over the years. he pulls you up to your feet, one hand now cupping your cheek and the other wrapped around your waist. he leans forward, then stops. his nose gently touching your own, you realize he’s giving you one more chance to run away. 

do you really want this? love is hard. love is breakable. love fades. it hurts. wouldn’t it be easier to just be alone? 

he presses his forehead to your own and brushes his nose on yours. one more chance. will you crawl back into your shell? 

a flash of bravery, and you close your eyes, then lean forward. suddenly, the world didn’t seem so bad. 

soft lips pressed against your own and you’re enveloped in the scent of smoke and rain and warmth—did warmth even have a scent? it must. it smells like sanji. 

kissing him is easy. suddenly all the fears of falling drift away and you’re welcomed with the feeling of something soft at your feet, in your hands, surrounding your body. his hands travel around you and are now on your back, making you arch into him. slowly, as though not to startle you, he pulls away. you chase after his lips. 

he smiles, looking into your eyes and he holds you close. a small smile forms on your lips and he kisses you again. 

you should’ve known. loving him is easier. much, much easier than pushing him away. pushing everything away. it feels like the hands on your throat pushing down have been burnt up, now replaced by lips sucking his name into your skin. 

a small sound escapes you, and you feel the curve of his smile against your throat. his fingers dance at the edge of your shirt, slipping under and pressing against your bare skin. his hands are warm as they tear you limb from limb, pulling you apart and putting you back together. 

yes. maybe loving him was easier. 

is this a cry for help? maybe. anyway, i wish we all had a sanji

[sexydoffyman]

Hi! I saw that u also write for Katakuri (which is one of my favs) and I have a request for him!

Katakuri first meeting his wife (a forced marriage) who looks small and ‘weak’ but has a bounty over 1 billion and he sees her fight for the first time (his s/o wins)

STRONG WIFE

genre: fluff

word count: 722

A/N: Katakuri is my fav so I had to throw some fluff in there.🦑

He is feared by his enemies and admired by his siblings. Everyone else both fears him and admires him. When you saw the man for the first time, his expression really scared you. The way he stood, the way he talked, the way he looked at you. Those things made you fear him. On the other side, the way he held your hands to help you up the stairs, the way others looked at him, the way he never put his guard down. These things made you admire him.

You were awkwardly sitting next to him on a bench waiting for the wedding ceremony to take place. You looked at his face and quickly looked back to the ground when he looked your way. You felt scared as if he judged you the whole time, as if he looked down on you. You were worried that he hates you in some sort. Maybe because of the marriage maybe because he saw you as unworthy or annoying.

You were intimidated by the vibes he gave off. You shook and hoped that this whole thing will be over. A guard came into the room to take you to the room the tea party took place. When you and Katakuri stood up you felt the fear come once again. His tall figure casting a deep shadow. You now took a better look at him and you just had to wonder...

"Why the scarf?"

You walked together to the tea party as everyone around you cheered the soon-to-be husband and wife. You both stood on one of the wedding cake's floors. You couldn't help but feel that something was off. You took a quick glance at Katakuri and you saw that his expression changed and you were worried that something bad was coming. It looked like he didn't know what was coming but he knew something was.

I now pronounce you as husband and wife. "CRASH!!!"

You looked when you saw a bomb go off from one of the mirrors. Katakuri clenched his eyebrows and you kept looking in the direction of the mirror. You saw Brulee running out of the mirror. The tea party was under attack. When you looked next to you, you saw your husband was no longer there. You glanced back to the mirror and saw a faint hint of pink and purple colour moving into the mirror and Brulee with her hand in the mirror.

You quickly realized what happened, and before she could pull her arm out so Katakuri could turn the mirror to pieces, you ran straight through the mirror. Just when you popped into the mirror world Katakuri broke the mirror. He instantly looked at you surprised and annoyed because you just gave him more work to protect you.

You weren't going to disappoint him tho. Without even looking at him you kicked the person in the face. Katakuri followed you really surprised that you can keep up with him and even hurt the person.

After a while of you both fighting the person, you were both quite tired. The person then attacked with fire at Katakuri in a way that he couldn't dodge. His scarf was burnt to the ground. The person started laughing at your husband and at the scar on his face. Not just on the scar but on his whole mouth. He called him a monster.

That was your breaking point... you saw red. You looked Katakuri's way, and he looked back at you. You took an interest in his mouth but brushed it off and ripped the person's chest in two pieces even tho they had armament haki covering it.

When you looked Katakuri's way again he was ready for you to call him a disgusting monster. All of his worries only for you to giggle and call him beautiful. He immediately blushed finally showing a different expression. You paid no mind to it and asked him how will you get back to the tea party.

At the moment Katakuri kneeling down hugged you from behind. He grabbed you and carried you to the nearest mirror back to the tea party. Brulee was watching both of you lovebirds and chuckled.

"Katakuri I don't need you to carry me"

"Strong women need rest"

He said that trying to make an excuse to hold you.

[dira333]

To those who've been burnt - Shinsou x Reader

Request by @bookishgalaxies - I wrote by vibes only, so I hope you'll like it

“What do boys like?” You ask, staring at the foam on top of your hot chocolate. 

Lately, your Instagram feed has been full of cute latte art pics, of hearts and cats and love confession drawn into the milky froth. But this is real life and your hot chocolate doesn’t even get a dusting of chocolate powder.

“Huh?” Hitoshi asks, almost drowning in his drink. You don’t have to ask to know what he got, bribed the barista to make it despite all common sense. He always gets too many extra shots of espresso.

“Girls like to get flowers. Or cute little trinkets. What do boys like? You know, as random presents?”

“Boys like flowers too,” He says and pushes his plate toward you. “Can you peel my orange?”

“Sure.” You dig your nails into it, feel warmth rising up your spine as you notice how he’s watching you, the movement of your fingers, doesn’t miss the little gasp you take when you manage to squirt orange juice into your face. 

When you drop the first slice into his waiting palm you know you’re already a little more than just friends.

-

“Hey,” Hitoshi knocks against the frame of your door, leans against it as if it’s the only thing keeping him up at the late hour of nine in the morning. “Did you put those flowers on my desk?”

“What?” You look up from this week's report, your cheeks no doubt creased from how heavy your head has rested on your hands. “Oh, yeah, that was me.”

There’s the softest hint of a blush on his cheeks as he opens his mouth again.

“Why, though?”

“They reminded me of you.”

-

“Come on,” Hitoshi pulls you a little closer, “Don’t fall asleep.”

“ButI’msotired,” you mumble groggily. If only coffee tasted better and Energy Drinks didn’t come carbonated. You’d take the world by storm.

“Here.” His hands are warm against your ears. Seconds later the sounds of late-night travel are muffled, from the chewing of the person to your left to the chatter of the school girls opposite to you. You raise your hands to find that he’s put his headphones over your ears. 

Before you can ask about it, Hitoshi presses play on his phone.

You recognize the song immediately, the upbeat tempo making you move your shoulders on instinct until you’re bobbing up and down in your seat, dancing along without ever getting up.

Hitoshi’s grinning into his scarf by the time the song’s ending and you knock your head into his.

“You did that on purpose!” You hiss, probably louder than you’ve wanted to. He just shrugs and presses play on the next one.

-

“Are you free this weekend?”

You look up from the water cooler, fully expecting to witness the newest scoop of office gossip. Instead, you’re now directly facing Hiro, the agency's newest Sidekick.

And he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for an answer.

“I’m busy,” you say, but you’ve never been good at lying. Your quirk makes it even worse. 

“Is it because I’m a colleague?” Hiro’s leaning on the water cooler now, showing off the impressive biceps you’ve heard the other accountants swoon about.

No, you want to say. It’s because I have a crush on the guy who’s more than your best friend but never outright made clear if you were dating. And you went along with it, knowing it would happen eventually. But can you say that you have a boyfriend or would that be too forward?

“Hello?” Hiro taps your temple with his pointer finger. “Are you still in there?”

“Uh, yeah. I- I’m not interested.” There. The truth, plain and simple.

“Oh, okay.” Hiro pushes himself away from the water cooler. “But if you change your mind-”

“I know where to find you,” you joke, noticing only now that Hitoshi’s leaning in the door to his office, arms crossed over his chest. Oh. 

-

“Hey,” Hitoshi stops in front of your apartment building.

Neither of you have addressed the topic at hand. And you don’t think it will happen soon.

You’re fine with that, you really are. You don’t need him to confirm something you already know. Not when he’s holding your hand right now, not when there’s a bouquet from him on your kitchen table right now. So maybe he needs a little more time to put into words what already exists. You’ve always known him to take a little longer to trust reality. That’s just a thing that happens to people who got burned before.

“Hey,” you say back, lean your head against his shoulder. “Do you wanna come up?”

He does not answer, instead he stretches out his hand and draws something onto the dirty rear window of a parked car with his finger.

When you lean over to see, he pushes you away with a tsk. 

“Let me finish first,” he mumbles softly and you giggle, wait until he stops resisting.

There, painted into the dirt, is a little heart, filled with your Initials.

“Are you sure about that?” You ask, “That’s mighty official. This will probably stay on here for the rest of time.”

“I’m fine with that,” he says and taps your nose with the dirty finger, chuckles as you pull away in disgust.

-

In the morning, you’ll draw a heart onto the fogged up mirror.

You’ll hold his hand on the morning commute. Hitoshi will pretend not to notice when you slip your Ipod into his bag, prepped with a playlist just for him.

He’ll pick you up for lunch, hand on the small of your back as you find the most secluded part of the cafeteria.

When the lunch lady asks if you’re dating, you’ll both smile instead of answering and she’ll coo and put a little more meat on both of your plates.

And when Hitoshi and Hiro get paired up for afternoon patrol, Hitoshi will pull him to the side real quick and tell him, calmly but not without warning, that you are his girlfriend.

Join My Taglist

[zynchi]

sweater

content: sfw • fluff

pairing: leona kingscholar x gn!reader

summary: just leona and ruggie strolling down shaftlands' streets with a certain uninvited herbivore following them (634 words)

author's note: omg???? im back??? after a year??? WOHOOOO🎉 i missed u guys mwa

snow crunched under their feet as ruggie and leona strolled shaftlands' streets. the ground were dusted in white and the air is cold. christmas was around the corner, but leona couldn’t care less. all he wanted was some peace, but of course, that was too much to ask.

“leona-san, check this out,” ruggie said, pointing at a street vendor selling hot cocoa.

leona glanced over, considering it, when he heard the faint but unmistakable sound of footsteps behind them. he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“leonaaaaa! ruggie! waitttttttt!” you called, annoyingly cheerful as ever.

ruggie and leona exchanged a look but kept walking, hoping you'd take the hint. you didn’t.

you caught up to them, your breath visible in the cold. “woah, isn't it beautiful here? i love christmas!”

“sure, whatever,” leona replied, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

as they walked past a clothing store, leona noticed you slowing down. you pressed your face against the glass, eyes wide with admiration. a cute sweater caught your attention, but you didn’t say anything.

leona kept walking, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw you shake your head and hurry to catch up with them, your cheeks red from the cold. you sneezed and just beamed as if nothing was wrong.

ruggie nudged leona. “hey, boss, they're freezing.”

leona grunted, not wanting to acknowledge it, but he was right. you were shivering, your thin jacket doing little to keep you warm.

you continued to talk, your teeth chattering slightly. “i just love the holidays. everything is so festive and—” you sneezed again, this time louder.

leona rolled his eyes. “you’re gonna catch a cold, herbivore.”

“i'm fine, really,” you insisted, though it was obvious you were anything but.

ruggie sighed and took off his own scarf, and handed into you. “at least take this. we don’t need you getting sick and whining about it.”

your eyes widened in surprise. “oh, thank you, ruggie! but i can’t—”

“just take it,” ruggie said, waving off your protest.

you beamed at him, clutching the scarf tightly. “you’re the best, ruggie!”

“yeah, yeah, don’t mention it,” he said.

as they continued their stroll, leona couldn’t help but glance back at the store. the sweater was still there.

ruggie noticed his look. “you thinking what i’m thinking?”

“shut up, ruggie,” leona growled.

you three walked on, the snowfall growing heavier. when you passed the store again on your way back, leona paused for a moment. you were already ahead, hurrying to keep up with ruggie.

“go on ahead,” leona said to him, turning back to the store.

ruggie raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “got it, leona-san.”

leona stepped into the store, the bell above the door jingling softly. the clerk greeted him with a smile, but he ignored it, heading straight for the sweater. it was even nicer up close, soft and warm.

after a quick transaction, he walked out with the sweater in a bag, making his way back to you and ruggie.

“here,” he said, thrusting the bag at you.

you blinked in surprise. “leona, what’s this?”

“just take it,”

you opened the bag and gasped, pulling out the sweater. “oh...”

“don’t make a big deal out of it,” leona warned. “just put it on before you freeze to death.”

your smile was blinding as you wore it. “thank you so much, leona!"

“ugh, shut up" he grumbled.

as you guys walked back through the snowy streets, your cheerful chattering continued, and for once, he didn’t mind it as much.

[swifty-fox]

honesty - muse a wipes muse b’s tears away from under their eyes 🥺❤️

inspired by this gifset

writing music writing music

accidentally wrote like 1.5k sorry

The loud part of them all being in the Stalag is that Bucky Egan is losing his mind. He's playing baseball with ghosts and lounging around like a man waiting to die or to kill.

The quiet part is that Buck Cleven is not doing much better. He's dropping pounds like a wrestler trying to make weight, face growing tighter and tighter as every day passes, expression drawn cold over his skull that more and more showed off its delicate structure. Never a man of many words, he spoke to John little and the men less unless it was to give orders or encouragement.

Anything that wasn't Major Buck Cleven seemed to be scraped out of him by cold and hunger and sheer desperation.

It's fine, Bucky assured the guys whenever someone mustered the courage to approach him with their concerns, Buck's tough. It's just the cold.

It's just the hunger.

It's just this damned place.

Trust your Majors boys, you know we won't let you down.

Buck's still holding him up more than the other way around, John's man enough to admit that even in his cloudy mind. He knows he's a burden more than a help, sharp and angry and frustrated and bleeding all over the place with a caged animal's need to do something.

John Egan would rather die than spend much longer in here. It's the truth of the matter, it really is.

The realization had hit Buck like a slap to the cheek, John had seen it spread across his face in quiet understanding as they talked. He wanted to apologize, the words on the tip of his tongue. But what would it help? It wouldn't erase the truth of the matter. They weren't naive enough for band-aids.

Bucky knows he's hurtling towards some kind of precipe, he's behind the wheel after all. But Gale's strolling hot on his heels in the same direction. That's the secret of the matter, how similar they were underneath the outward differences. Cut from the same reckless wild cloth.

It's dinner when Buck finally breaks, picking at another watery soup of turnips and potatoes. Hambone had managed to hackle for a chunk of salt, so there was some hint of flavor besides stale vegetable, but Buck picks away at it anyways for several long moments before flinging his spoon down and stalking out of the bunkhouse.

Silence reigns in his wake, nobody quite sure what to do or say in the face of an outburst more suited to Bucky than Buck.

Gale Cleven didn't show his temper, he didn't storm out of a room or turn aside food he encouraged his men to eat with steadfast fervor. They needed the calories. They could be marching any day. They owed it to everyone back home to keep their strength up. This is, Buck Cleven swore, only a temporary sort of suffering.

"It's fine," Bucky tells the assembled men, Brady's pinched frown of concern and Crank's open-faced sadness, "He's fine. Finish your meals I've got him."

"It's going to be curfew soon, Major," Benny says from his spot next to Brady.

"I've got him," John repeats sternly.

There's quiet doubt in their eyes, a touch of nerves that never used to exist following Bucky's orders.

He tries not to think about it.

Night is settling over the camp, bitingly cold and John hisses as ice-filled wind stings his face, turning his cheeks raw in the seconds it takes him to tug his scarf up over his nose. There's precious few milling around; guards with their dogs and men desperate enough for clear air to enjoy their cigarettes, but John can make out fresh tracks in the snow leading to the camp library.

With one last glance at the guards, who eye him warily but make no threats, he shoves his hands in his pockets and steps in every one of Gale's footprints on his way to follow.

He's near frozen by the time he makes the short walk, closing the rickety door behind him and biting his cheek against shivers. For a moment he thinks he's guessed wrong, the chairs round the makeshift table are empty and the bookshelves undisturbed, before spotting a tangle of dirty pale hair slumped against the far wall.

Gale was on the floor, arms crossed over his knees and eyes staring straight ahead unseeingly. Though he was silent, his chest rose and feel rapidly with the force of his breathing. Not a panic attack, but a cornered predator knowing its time was near.

"Buck," John says softly, stepping around the table and settling onto his haunches until they were eye level, "Hey, Buck you with me?"

Gale blinks a couple times, eyes clear but horribly red-rimmed, making the blue of them that much more vibrant and meets John's gaze. His expression is so torn open, so mournful; plus lips turned downwards, cheeks slack with grief, brows pulled together into a furrow, that even John who know this man's body better than his own feels like he's intruding.

"I'm fucking tired, John" Gale rasps, and somehow the cursing is less shocking than Gale Cleven admitting to being less than fine, "We're all dying, you're dying and I've got no idea how to fix it."

While John is still filtering through his shock, trying to find the words, Buck seems to fold in on himself further, sink into his coat like a child trying on his father's clothes and cuts out a laugh that sounds more like a gag.

Makes that awful laughing sound again, then chokes, pressing his knuckles to his mouth and then vicing the other hand over his fist until blood wells up from the clutch of his nails. Lets out a third choking noise, fine trembles wracking his body and John's reaching for him in panic when he realizes it's not some sort of fit.

Gale Cleven is crying.

Eyes welling and spilling over, face screwing up and hands pressing to his mouth as if this entire episode is out of his control, a complete rebellion of his body. He keens, as if in pain and hunches over as another sob wracks through his wasted frame. And another.

Gale Cleven is crying like a child, huddled on the floor of a dirty half-assed library in a prison camp and John is so goddamn helpless he's furious with it. He reaches out to pull Gale towards him but the other man jerks away, elbow coming up defensively so John settles for squeezing a hand over his knee, thumb rubbing across the dirty fabric. He knows Gale isn't rejecting his comfort, not really, just that being coddled will break him worse, break him in ways he might not be able to put back together.

"It's okay, Buck," John says softly, settling down onto the floor in a mirror poser of Gale's position, ankle pressed to thigh, "Just you and me here, nobody else."

There's nothing to do but bear witness to the other man's pain, crying like it hurt him to do so. John wants to tell him to just breathe, to allow it to happen, he wasn't any less for it. But John remains quiet, holds Gale up not through physical pain but silent vigil.

When the sobs -awful, wracking, hideous fucking choking sobs - finally taper off, John slides forward onto his knees and cups his hands on either side of Gale's face, thumbs swiping under his clumped eyelashes to rub away the salty wet film of tears. For a moment Gale looks like he wants to protest, but then he slumps, making another quiet painful noise and pants through his next words.

"Don't ask me if I'm with you, if you're not with me," he gasps out, chest rattling with the force of his emotion.

It might as well have been a knife between the ribs, John's hands freezing on Gale's face. His blue eyes flicker with regret before he closes them, head thumping back against the wall.

"I'm sorry," he rasps out, "I'm sorry that's not fair-"

"No, it's really fucking fair, actually," John says quietly.

When was the last time they'd been together like this? When had they last touched each other in a way that wasn't the embrace of comrades? They loved each other, there wasn't doubt there. But how long had it been since John and Gale had been able to be anything but their rank?

Pressing forward, leaning into the barely warm cling of Gale's body, John presses his lips to the stumbled curve of Gale's cheek. The skin so thin and delicate he worries it might split and bruise under his touch, presses a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, over his earlobe, in the hidden shadow between his clothes and body.

"I'm with you," John says softly, against the hair around his neck, "I swear Gale, I'm with you."

Long fingers come up to grasp at the back of John's coat, tangle through his hair under his cap and tugs him forward until they're pressed together heartbeat to heartbeat. They don't have long before they need to be back in the bunkhouse, minutes if even that. But it can wait, it can wait until they hold each other for a few more minutes.