#it looks like my middle finger is maybe shoved up my nose

[promisingyounglady]

accident. | JP x Reader

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Wife!Reader

SYNOPSIS: we all make accidents. javier forgetting to pick you up at the train station was an accident. you forgetting to bring an umbrella was an accident. throwing a knife at your husband? you’re going to have prove that one was an accident to him.

WC: 3.6k

WARNINGS: SMUT, angst, mentions of weapons and knives, reader throws a knife at javier *just read you’ll find out*, implied age gap, established relationship, javier is a bit older than reader, domestic au, slight dom!javi, mentions of food and cooking, profanity, bratty!reader, reader is mean but javier can be meaner, floor sex, creampie, unprotected sex, spanking, handcuffs, cum eating, brief oral (f recieving), slight non-con, rough sex, praise, degradation, post-sex sweetness, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE: obsessed and mentally ill. so here’s slightly dom!javi with a ton of angst

A headache ensues in Javier’s mind.

He tries to combat it with the clouds of smoke rising through the air, the comfortable scent of tobacco and cigarettes filling his nose as he takes a drag from the stick perched in between his blistered fingers, this inhale, longer than the last.

Today had been shit. It really had. All day he had been cooped up in the office with stacks of paperwork almost taller than himself, tossed onto him and Murphy's desk by the higher ups, a high demand for deadlines with their patience being low.

Javier had been sitting in his office for almost seven hours straight, looking at papers with tiny writing and filing reports with pen until sensitive pink blisters formed around a hand that should’ve been driving and carrying a gun today, out in the field on a mission another team had instead been tasked with.

He’s getting old for this stuff, and he knows its true when he feels a strain in his back from shifting in his seat.

Maybe that’s why they shoved the paperwork in the old man’s hands.

Javier leans forward, grabbing his almost empty pack of cigarettes from his desk, deciding a fourth one was necessary for tonight.

“Javier,” a voice calls for him, looking up when he sees the new secretary holding the phone facing her chest. “You’ve got a call”

“From who” he says gruffly, brows furrowed. He lights the cigarette with his lighter, tossing it onto his desk and taking another puff.

“It’s your wife,” The secretary states. “she’s asking what you want for dinner.”

Javier stops in the middle of flicking the ashes, letting the cigarette sit warm in his fingers when he turns his head so he could see her correctly.

Your sweet voice calls out through the receiver, a chill running down Javier's spine when he makes out that it really is you.

“Yeah, Sherry, it’s fine if he’s busy, just let him know I called. Tell him dinner’ll be late tonight, at around 10.” you piped up sweetly, saying goodbye to your husband's secretary before hanging up the call.

She leaves after telling him what he already heard, but Javier is quick to immediately put out the burning cigarette and quickly grab his coat, making his way out the office.

“Peña, Where are you going? We only got a few more stacks left” Murphy calls out, hair in a mess from the many stressful tugs and his own cigarette nestled in between his fingers.

“my wife.” Javier replies, suddenly not liking the bitter taste in his mouth.

“It’s raining outside, you’re gonna get drenched” the blonde tells him, shaking his head as he took a drag from his own cancer stick.

Javier stops in his tracks, looking outside the window to see his partner was right. It was pouring out there, hardly able to even make out the cars in the parking lot.

Him getting wet was the least of his worries. It was you, he was thinking of.

“Fucking hell.”

_

You set the receiver down on the living room table. The ticking of the clock resonating in the silent house before a sigh finally escaping your lips.

Droplets of rain water cloud your vision, cheeks pink from the cold as water dripped onto your wooden floorboards.

Fists clench and unclench around the handle of the umbrella given to you by an old lady at the train station.

“A girl like yourself shouldn’t be alone in the rain, mija” she insisted, letting you take her frilly umbrella as her son would pick her up shortly.

Javier was supposed to pick you up too.

But after forty minutes of standing out in the rainy weather under a flimsy roof as you waited for his truck to pick you up, you disappointedly caught a taxi and drove home by yourself

You were returning from your visit to your sick grandmother. You were her only granddaughter who she called the week prior, telling you how she missed you and wanted you to visit.

Javier insisted you went, not wanting to hold you back and assured he would come to pick you up at the station after the weekend spent with her.

What a fucking liar, you thought to yourself.

You quickly undressed your wet clothes, the outcome of having to have walked in rain to find an available taxi this evening.

You're curious to see the look on Javier’s face when you make him beg on his knees and ask for forgiveness. Maybe you wouldn’t even kiss him tonight, thinking in silence as you prepared for dinner.

You definitely weren’t trying to think about what an excellent opportunity this was to be a brat.

—

Javier parks into his quiet drive way exactly thirty minutes before 10. That’s thirty minutes of trying to get on your good graces and pray that he wouldn’t be sleeping outside tonight.

When he opens the door to the house, his heart beats fast. Prepared to see you ready to lash out at him, he’s instead surprised with the aromas of spices and your homemade cooking wafting to his nose, unconsciously realizing that he skipped lunch today from how caught up he was with work.

Picking up your wet jacket from the floor, Javier slots his keys and sunglasses in the bowl by the entrance, hanging his own jacket as well before he makes his way quietly to the glowing kitchen.

The stovepot is on a low boil, and he sees you in a long t-shirt, one that you made sure wasn’t his. Your hair is damp, probably from a shower as you swiftly work your hands away in prepping the vegetables.

Javier mumbles quietly in a gruff voice. “You, uh, left your coat on the floor.”

Thwack.

An aggressive chop at the carrots replaces your words, each cut piercing louder like a gunshot ringing in his ears.

“Hermosa, I am so sorry.“ Javier begins sighing because he knows he fucked up real bad this time.

Thwack. You moved onto the chicken meat.

“There’s no excuse baby, I wasn’t keeping track after being cooped up in the office today.” he sighs, brows furrowing as big brown eyes stared into your back.

Thwack. Thwack.

The DEA agent flinches at the sound of the raw chicken being butchered by your swift, angry hands. You’re not facing Javier directly and yet he can already see your glaring eyes. He sighs, not wanting to fight you. He tries to lighten the mood, voice soft as he comments.

“Qué te ha hecho ese pobre pollo”

You don’t reply, let alone acknowledge your husband, continuing to brutally dice the chicken on the cutting board before turning around to wash your hands.

Javier watches you swiftly work in your kitchen, feeling sorry as he still watches you prepare dinner for the two of you after such a long train ride.

He moves forward, rolling his sleeves as he tries to help you . “Querida, I’ll help with the pot-”

The clang of the knife hitting the cutting board echoes in the kitchen, finally looking up to face your husband. Javier leans back, resting against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and gun holsters unremoved after coming home.

You try to ignore how tired he genuinely looks, reminding yourself you were just the same when standing all alone for that one hour.

“Y’know what Javier?” You begin, eyes watering and nose twitching in anger. Javier stays silent, staring at you with sincerity.

“Fuck you” you spit, pointing an accusing finger at the man. “fuck you and your fucking DEA work, Javier”

“Mi-”

“I had to wait forty minutes outside in rainy weather, trying to see if every car passing by would be yours.” you said, voice breaking towards the end. You felt uncomfortable waiting by yourself.

Javier shuts his eyes, forehead wrinkling as he tries to calm you down. He draws your name out in a firm but gentle tone.

You ignore him, replacing his words with your attitude. “You always do this!” you exclaim, voice rising.

“Leaving your wife and family second while you think it’s cool to go and chase criminals while risking your goddamn life.” You mutter, glaring at your husband.

“I didn’t want to leave you at the station all alone, honey. I’ve been sitting at my desk since afternoon drowning in paperwork the higher-ups dumped on us” he presses, eyes sincere but patience wearing thin.

You scoff, shaking your head. “So even stupid paperwork makes you forget your wife.”

Javier pinches his nose bridge, his head pounding as he tries to communicate with you.

You go back to cutting your vegetables, mumbling under your breath. “Who the fuck in Bogotá is giving you credit for slaving away all day trying to catch Escobar, hm?”

The words pierce through Javier’s heart.

Your eyes light up in fake sarcasm. “Oh, I bet it’s the fact that you’re too busy being a fucking doormat to all the younger agents at work aren’t you? What, Murphy said he can’t do his share of the work so he gave you his leftovers?” You spit.

“Hey," Javier snapped, gruffly and darkly. He looked at you, eyes narrowed and dark. "Stop it. I've told you."

Anger gets the best of you as you turn to the cutting board. Grabbing the first thing you saw.

A carrot piece shoots in his way. Javier flinches, the food hitting his chest. Your husband stands there, stunned at his wife’s childish behavior.

“Go fuck yourself, Peña” you say menacingly.

“We don’t throw food in this house, mama” he barks, hands on the hips of his belt, gun and badge tucked in his back. He would never use them on you.

A celery stick slaps Javier in the face this time, making his patience hanging on by a thread even thinner.

Maybe he could whip out the handcuffs.

“Dont you fucking call me that!” you said spitefully, throwing anything and everything you could at the man who dodged your attacks.

“Querida!” Javier raises his voice at you, a growl in his words.

You felt the cold, hard material in your hands for a split second before you’re throwing it at him, almost wondering yourself why you were getting so angry at Javier.

You didn’t want to fight this bad, but at the same time you were sick of watching him work himself to death, forgetting about you. This wasn’t the first time he did something like this.

But you already crossed that line. You both stand in silence, holding your breath as you realized what you threw.

Now it was your turn to fuck things up.

Javier’s lip snarls and his mustache is in a scary frown when he shifts his head.

Only a few inches beside his face lands a dull potato knife, wedged in the kitchen cupboards above. It wouldn’t have worked on anything since it was unsharpened and unused, but the tremendous force you had thrown it with allowed it to have been lodged in the wood.

You gasp, hands flying to cover your mouth.

You both watch Javier slowly raise his hand, pulling the knife inches beside his head with ease before tossing it into the sink. The clatter of the metal blade hitting the sink rings in the kitchen. A swarm of guilt fills your chest as you stand still in fear.

“Javi… I-I’m so sorry” you say, heart beating against your chest, cautiously awaiting a reaction from him.

Javier dusts off the carrot peels on his shoulder, watching as his jaw tenses but shoulders relax.

“Come here.” he all but says quietly. You see Javier reaching for his back pocket, taking out his gun and badge and placing it on the counter.

That wasn’t what scared you.

What scared you was then seeing Javier pull out the silver handcuffs lodged in his back pocket. Your eyes widened at the sight of him playing around with them.

“Javi, I’ll go get the-“

“Come. Here.” Javier cuts you off, staring at you with dark eyes.

You swiftly shake your head, refusing to go. “It was an accident!” You exclaimed, dashing out the kitchen as you tried to escape Javier who was hot on your heels.

“Honey.” he says in a not so endearing way, a warning edge to his voice.

Tears littered your cheeks, knowing that you pushed Javier’s limits and that he would really punish you for how bratty you had been tonight.

You gasp, running up the stairs before strong arms encaged your frame, desperately trying to escape before shrieking in surprise as Javier hoisted you over his shoulder, a loud and painful smack being brought down to your ass by his strong hands. You grimaced, helplessly being brought to the kitchen in swift strides.

”It was an accident, I’m sorry, I was just so angry!” You wailed, groaning as your back hit the carpeted floors of your living room. Your vision was hazy, the dizziness getting to you as you saw Javier leave the room into the kitchen, and come back a few moments later. This time, he was unbuttoning his shirt, his forest of chest hair and strong muscles peeking through.

Javier took a deep breath, eying the way your t-shirt had hiked all the way up so your panties were showing. Your hair spread around your head like a halo, and he noticed how you clenched your thighs together in vulnerability.

“Some accidents need to be punished, baby” he muttered darkly.

You sobbed softly, nose red as you turned your head to the side, looking away from Javi’s menacing look. He didn’t mind, he knew once he was done messing with you, you would be clawing at his chest, begging him to fuck you properly while looking into his eyes. Javier leans down at your level, crawling on your body so he was on top and you were trapped on the bottom. He rips your t-shirt off of you, leaving you in your bare state with panties flimsy enough he could rip them with his teeth. Not today though, he had other things in mind.

He coos at your weak state, dropping his head so he could press a kiss to your sensitive neck, giving a small nip that made you yelp. Two large hands come to play with your nipples, pulling each one hard in between his fingers as you moaned hysterically.

“What did I say about being fucking mean?” He says roughly. He inhales your scent, smelling a sweet sense of fear.

“Carino,” a warm voice calls out, you can feel the grin spreading on Javier’s face. You cry in a mix of pain and pleasure when he flips you on your tummy, cheek pressing against the rough carpet material as Javier slots his hard member encased in his jeans, right by the curve of your ass.

“Answer me, mama”

A clinking of metal makes you cry out in protest. No, you wanted to say, feeling Javier cuff you behind your back like you were one of his petty drug thiefs. But a slap to your ass cheek makes you gasp, eyes shutting as Javier pulls your panties off.

”Being mean gets me punished” you responded softly, a pool of desire aching in your folds as you almost tutted your ass up to show him you were ready. ���I’m sorry, Javier” you sniffled quietly, hoping he would hear.

Javier laughs, cocking his head to the side as one hand groped the flesh of your bum, and the other undid his belt buckle. The sound makes your mouth water, wondering if he’ll let you suck him off too for forgiveness.

“So you do know how to be nice?” He groans, giving you no time before his hard members penetrates your entrance, head turning back and eyes rolling when you clenched around his dick so well. “Javier!” You screamed, eyes rolling back in pleasure from the strong stretch.

Your arms ached, desperate for release so you could brace yourself against the floor for every hard thrust your husband would give you.

“Listen carefully, querida” he moans into your ear, humping you as you moaned loudly. “You’re gonna be a good girl and let me fill you up, alright?” When there was no answer, he slapped your cheek again, this time echoing throughout the living room and leaving a red splotch on your ass. “Answer me.” He growled, patience growing thin from your pathetic wailing.

You grit your teeth, hating the fact that you were supposed to be mad at Javier for forgetting about you, and yet here you were receiving back shots with a stinging red ass.

”Yes, Javier” you said back, feeling his girth stretch your walls.

”Good. And once I’m done fucking my pretty wife, you’re gonna suck me off like you mean it. That sounds good mi amor?”

You nodded in return, eyes shut and panting like a slut from the feeling of Javier slowing down his thrusts, deepening every stroke.

“Yes, Javier” you repeated.

He smiled, kissing your neck sweetly, contrasting his hip movements. “Thank you, mama” he replied, cherishing your sweet moans and gasps as he went at a deeper, harder pace.

It’s delirious, the whole situation. You feel as though you’re on cloud nine with the way Javier is so possessive of you, caging you like a butterfly in his garden with the apple of desire.

You felt sinful. You felt glorious. You needed his release to fill you up so badly.

“Javi…” you muttered, tits starting to get carpet burn from being fucked against the ground.

“I know mama, you’re doing so good for me. Taking your lesson so well” he groans, sweat beading at his forehead.

You were aching and begging for orgasm, but feeling Javier rut into you so passionately made it all worth it. It dissolved any anger, any resentment from earlier because you knew how good he could take care of you.

“You’re so fucking mean sometimes, you know that?” he tells you, brows furrowed and concentrated on fucking the daylights out of you. You could feel the handprints marking your hips, wondering how many of Javier’s marks would be on you tomorrow morning.

“I know” you sigh, feeling a slap come down on your ass as you groan louder.

“You’re so fucking stubborn sometimes, you know that too?” you pant, squirming under your cuffs. Javier shudders, your walls sucking him a little too well.

“I know.” He says back gruffly.

Javier feels the knot untying in his stomach, too late to tell you verbally as you felt his warm seed leak inside, cumming first.

“Merida”

You were also close, loving how despite already coming, Javier was fucking you so that you could cum too.

”I’m gonna” you pant, forgetting to finish your words as you felt hot liquid threatening to spill from every stroke he made in your hole.

Javier whispers, pressing ticklish kisses from his mustache to your bare shoulder. “Cum on my cock, baby, you know what to do” he muttered, both of you groaning loudly as both your releases became mixed inside you.

“Oh fuck, Javi!” you scream, hair a mess and pussy aching.

You feel dizzy, used but happy, shivering as a large sludge of your cum spills out and drips down your thigh to the carpet.

Javier is quick to lap you up with his tongue, slotting his face in your ass as he filthily cleans you up.

“Can you get these off me, please?” you ask him meekly, relishing the feeling of your sensitive wrists when they touch the cool air.

Your husband presses a kiss to each one, marking your ass and shoulders with playful hickeys and bruises.

You both catch your breath for a moment, Javier turning you over so you were facing the ceiling, your sensitive tits perking up.

It’s all so sudden but before you two realize it, you’re latching onto each other immediately, hungrily sharing a kiss as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Hermosa,” he tries to begin, before being shushed by you, pulling him back in to lovingly kiss your husband.

Sure, rough sex was great, but god did you love just kissing Javier absentmindedly. You had to touch each other, kiss each other, that was how you two made up.

“Lo siento, hermosa” he sighs, wanting to get lost in your embrace. You smile, knowing that Javier is sincere. “Me too.” You reply, voices hushed as it was now later in the night, the neighbors probably aware of what had happened next door. A moment passes.

“Didn’t you say you wanted me to suck you off?” you asked innocently, gazing up at Javier as your head rested on his chest.

He grins, softly whispering a later as he played with your hair, cock soft against his thigh as your leg nudges it playfully.

He growls, nipping your ear. “Behave” he says firmly, cheeks rosy. This time you listen.

“Who picked you up today then if I didn’t come?” Javi asks, reaching over to wrap a blanket around you two near the fireplace.

You smile, knowing that you can’t always listen to Javier’s warnings. “Just some cute young taxi driver. Asked me for my number y’know” you grinned.

Javier looks down, eyes darkening as he mutters softly. “Unless you’re gonna be a brat again, you better watch yourself” he reaches for your mound, cupping you softly so you moan in pleasure, still sensitive from the previous activities. He hoists you above his stomach, feeling your nails scratch his pudge and bend down as you give him a kiss. “I’m just messing with you” you giggle, a familiar feeling coming back when his bare cock is nestled by your thighs. “He was old. A grandpapi” you said, feeling his hands roam the flesh of your ass.

You press a hand against Javier’s chest, giggling as you peck his jawline. He rolls his eyes, hands wrapping around your waist instinctively.

“I missed you.” he mutters, feeling you up.

You smile, remembering how warm it is on top of your husband before you shut your eyes softly.“Me too.”

You look up, apologizing to him. “Sorry for almost stabbing you with that knife”

You feel the vibrations and sounds of a loud chuckle, Javier holding on to you. “It was an accident” you mumble, circling shapes on his skin. He knows.

You make up for it by leaning in, pressing kisses under the shell of his ear. Whispering how you’ll let him stuff his cock in your mouth again to get even.

Fuck it, he thinks. He’d let you kill him anyday.

#fic: accident #javier pena fluff #javier pena x you #javier pena one shot #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier pena angst #javier pena x y/n #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos smut #narcos #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #divider credit: unknown pls dm #did I die and come back to life writing this? take a wild guess

[luveline]

could you pleaseee do more hotch x bombshell reader

cw suggestive —you and Hotch have a shared secret you’re hiding from the rest of the team. fem, 1k

“He’s too old for you, you know.” 

You give Elle a charmed smile. “He is not.” 

“Is too.” 

“How old do you think I am, Greenaway?” you tease. “I know I look good for my age, but I’m fully developed. He is not too old for me.” 

“Who?” Spencer asks, placing down his dinner tray with a smile. 

“Gideon,” you say. “What do you think, babe, do I have a chance with our great leader?” 

“No,” Spencer says, giggling as he spears a dehydrated looking green bean with his fork. He’s getting good at recognising jokes for what they are. 

As the younger (but, despite Elle’s insistence, not young) crowd, you have complimentary avoiding of work to do, free with your employment. You spend your lunch hour trying to stretch it into two, driving Gideon insane, and prompting Hotch to come and find you. He hasn’t appeared yet, but when you check your watch you’ve got about ten minutes left until you need to get back. 

“The line was so long,” Spencer says. “They could reduce the foot traffic in here by half if they had two people working the register.” 

“Maybe if we had our own offices we could eat our lunch alone from a brown paper bag like everybody else does, and we wouldn’t need to line up,” Elle says wryly. 

“You don’t like lining up like middle schoolers?” you ask in feigned shock. 

“I don’t,” Spencer says earnestly. 

“She’s being sarcastic,” Elle says. “You couldn’t tell?” She looks over your shoulder suddenly, but there’s a velvet voice in your ear before you can turn around.

“Can I borrow you?” 

You smile because he can’t see it. “That depends, Agent Hotchner, will I get to finish my lunch?” 

You don’t have a tray in front of you. It clearly doesn’t matter to Hotch. “I’ll take care of it.” 

You’d let him drag you around by the collar, but that’s none of his business. You turn to meet his eyes over your shoulder, disappointed that he’s already a few steps back waiting for you to stand up. 

What Elle doesn’t get, what nobody seems to see but you, is that Hotch had no need to lean in and talk so close to your ear. He could have sent you an email, paged you, and he’s here in the cafeteria waiting for you to follow him out. 

You send both Elle and Spencer a suggestive look and climb off of the bench. Hotch senses when you’re near rather than looking, starting out of the cafeteria and down the hall to the elevator bank. He does a sharp turn you aren’t expecting to the photocopying rooms, where you refuse to go, lest you get killed by a falling stack of printer paper. One minute you’re walking together and the next he’s taken your hand and pulling you into an alcove, suddenly sliding his hand behind your back. 

“Aaron–”

He dips his face down and kisses you. It’s surprising and not, one slight nipping kiss before he looks you in the eyes. He’s asking if you’re alright to be kissed, and if it’s him, he can shove you up against a wall —you lift your head and he pulls you right back up to be kissed again. His hands slide over the tight fabric of your blazer and hold you chest to chest, his nose crushing yours, his lips unwavering. Pinpricks of heat ricochet from your mouth to your neck, a shudder he feels that has him laughing hot against your lips.

“That’s not very gentlemanly,” you say, weaving your fingers into the soft crop of hair behind his ears. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. He lifts his hand, cleaning the smudge of your lipstick with his pinky finger, before stroking your cheek with his knuckle.  “What sort of note was that, this afternoon? Why do you think that’s alright to leave at my desk?” 

“How’d you know it was me?” you ask, dropping your hands from his hair to poke at his waist. 

“I hoped it was you,” he admits. He looks like he might say something else, but he steals a rough kiss instead, and then another. 

“Okay,” you say, pleased to be kissed like this by him, “it was me. And you deserved it.” 

“Did I?” He takes your face into two hands. “Did I?” 

You stutter momentarily at his repeated question. “You– yeah, Hotchner, you did. It was supposed to be nice, like a promise.” 

“Are you promising?” he asks, giving your cheek a sweet, gentle stroke with his thumb. 

You kiss his nice jaw, ruffle the hair that curls over his forehead playfully, and laugh as he catches your hand. He doesn’t grab. Hotch isn’t ever aggressive with you (though he can get a little excited). 

“Decide what you want for dinner tonight, and we’ll go after work,” he says, returning your hand gently to your side. 

“Another kiss?” you ask. 

Hotch kisses you sweetly. “Come on, honey, lunch is over.” 

“Just one more?” you ask. 

He falls for it every time. You must harvest half a dozen extra kisses, incensed because it’s him, because nobody thought for a minute he’d bend to your whims. 

Hotch doesn’t bend. He just wants you like you want him. 

“One more,” he says as you pull away. “Just one.” 

It tickles your lips. You curl your arms behind his neck and try to make it one that’ll linger, your fingers scratching lightly at his scalp as he presses your back to the cold wall. You yelp a laugh and he covers your back with big hands, mumbling a sorry that gets completely lost. 

You don’t know how he’s going to explain this to Gideon. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[lovebugism]

soooo eddie hears or reads somewhere that birthmarks are where your lover from a past life used to kiss you

and as soon as he gets home he wants to make sure that in this present life r still feel this love and that the birthmarks remain the same until their next life together (ugh so cute 🥺)

i changed this up a wee bit but i hope u like it!! — you and eddie kiss birthmarks on the other for the next life (established relationship, fluff, 0.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie traces shapes on your bare back, a post-sex ritual of sorts. It starts out innocent, usually — tiny hearts and flowers and planets that you try hard to guess. It almost always ends with him signing penises onto your spine and laughing out loud every time you realize.

He’s doing it mindlessly now. Touching you just to touch you. His finger trails up your back, circles over your shoulder blades, and then falls back down again. “Did you know you have a birthmark here?” he wonders, breaking the honeyed silence of his tiny bedroom.

Your brows furrow as he traces some sort of outline between your shoulder and spine. “Do I?” you murmur, muffled into the pillow.

“I think so. It’s really faint.”

“Maybe it’s just dirt,” you joke quietly. You don’t see Eddie pull his hand away to lick his finger, but you feel the wet touch of it when it swipes over your back. “Ew, Eddie!” you shout.

“It’s not dirt,” he confirms, choking back a laugh.

“I’ve ever noticed it, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever looked that hard back there. Like, ever.”

Eddie scoffs, almost in disbelief. “That’s a shame…” he murmurs. 

His finger is gentle and featherlight as it trails down your bare back, leaving chill bumps in its wake. His hand dips below the sheets covering the bottom half of you. His palm spreads unabashedly over your ass, wide and warm. 

“…’Cause there’s a real nice view back here.”

You lift a heavy hand to swat at the boy beside you. It collides halfheartedly with his shoulder. He laughs again. “What?! I’m talking about the birthmark, babe! It’s cute— I love noticing new things about you.”

“Don’t people say that’s how you died in a past life? Wherever your birthmark is?”

Your tired eyes open to find Eddie’s screwed-up face. “Does that mean someone stabbed me in the ass? In, like, the middle ages or some shit? ‘Cause that’s a fucking gnarly way to go.”

“Better than being stabbed in the back… Literally.”

Eddie settles next to you with a huff. He lays on his stomach and shoves half his face into the pillow next to yours, all but melting into the mattress. He keeps tracing the mark on your back with an absentminded touch, never anything but gentle with you.

“Wanna know what I heard?” he mumbles.

“Hm?”

“I heard that birthmarks are where your lover used to kiss you— you know, in a past life or whatever,” he confesses, like it’s a deeply held secret. Then he shrugs his milky white shoulders. “That’s what my mom used to say, anyway. And that woman was never wrong.”

You smile quietly to yourself. Eddie doesn’t talk about his mom very often. You feel a special privilege to be hearing about her now.

“I believe it,” you hum.

His contented grin blooms into something wider and more boyish. “That means someone might’ve been kissing my ass in a past life.”

“That’s awful,” you grumble with a scrunched nose. “Now, I have to give you a new one.”

“Choose wisely, princess,” Eddie lilts and turns onto his back. He spreads his arms out wide and beams when you lean over him. “My future depends on it.”

You don’t think very long. Maybe a moment or more. You press your lips to his chest, just below the faded tattoo on his pec and right over his beating heart. You smile when you pull away, all giddy like a teenage girl, and lay back down again.

Eddie’s chest sparkles with so much adoration it hurts. He laughs it off anyway. “Alright, cheeseball— It’s my turn.”

“You have to do it in the same place!” you argue in a tiny voice when the boy lays over you. He props his weight on his elbows and entwines his legs with yours. The heavy closeness feels like heaven.

“Why?”

“So we’ll have matching birthmarks! And then, when we’re in the next life or whatever, and we look like totally different people, we’ll know we loved each other.”

Eddie scoffs. “I’ll know.”

“How?”

“How will I know that I loved you?” he repeats, like the answer’s obvious and far too silly to ponder. You nod, and he shrugs. “‘Cause I have to. I can’t help it.”

Something warm blooms behind your ribcage. “And I’m the cheesy one?” you tease with a big, girlish grin.

“It’s your fault. You bring the worst outta me, honey.”

You laugh when he drops his head to your chest, pressing a kiss over your heart and lingering there. You pray it stains forever.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: bug turns one

[hanasnx]

baby daddy jason for when the one parent-teacher conference the sweet unassuming teachers like “mrs. Todd” and you’re “uhhh we’re not married”, but Jason, despite not being up to the commitment, likes the idea. He definitely would not correct the teacher like you immediately would.

Actually idk where I was going with this I had an idea but then it kinda stopped soz

MINORS DNI 18+

You’re not even sure how it happened. In your opinion, it’s best that BABY DADDY!JASON TODD stay far away from you and your daughter. Maybe he sifted through your mail the last time he snuck in, maybe he intercepted your calls, maybe he followed her to school to add himself to her emergency contacts—all completely feasible when dealing with someone so meticulously thorough and annoyingly committed. You’re face to face with him outside your daughter’s teacher’s door.

“What are you doing here?” you seethe in a whisper, avoiding a scene.

Jason’s face twists in feigned confusion, pointing to the flyer on the wall. He reads out its words as his finger follows along, “‘Parent teacher conference.’” He points to himself finally. “Parent.” A smug curl forms on his lips, standing tall in outsmarting you even though it’s not what you asked.

Your nostrils flare as you suck in a breath. Unfortunately, Jason is exceptional at getting on your nerves. You wonder how he managed knocking you up. Advancing on him, he mirrors you, meeting you in the middle as you engage him, “Jason, I don’t want you here—“

The door swings open, and you jump in place, leaning away abruptly. Jason coolly inclines back, shoving his hands in his pockets, he’s got nothing to hide. Your daughter’s teacher greets you both with a cheerful grin, beckoning you in. “You made it! Come on in, come on in.” You exchange a warning glance with Jason, but you clutch your purse strap and duck in while he trails leisurely after.

The meeting goes well, the teacher rants and raves about your daughter, especially about her art skills, showcasing that talent with pictures of it. You open your mouth to speak, but Jason beats you to it, “Takes after her mother, huh? What do you know?” he says with pride, and you witness a genuine grin on his lips as he leans forward to take a closer look at the mess of glitter and stickers in the teacher’s hands.

Your heart skips a beat, and you fiddle with your hands in your lap. One reason you try to stay away from Jason is because of times like these. Makes you second guess your decision to end things with him, and that’s exactly what’s most dangerous.

“So, Mrs. Todd—“ the teacher’s voice breaks you from your stupor, gaze snapping up to her as you furrow your brows.

“Oh, we’re not married.” you object, interrupting her starkly, and she flushes, setting the artwork down with a nervous smile.

“Oh! My mistake. You two just seem so close…”

Jason sighs, raising an arm to wrap around the back of your chair. “Well, not yet.” he says with certainty, and you turn your attention to him, glancing at his arm placement and how the sleeve of his biker jacket brushes your hair. His hand cups your shoulder, which you stare at, and glare when he starts stroking your skin with his thumb. What makes you the most angry is not the entitlement to touch you—which he’s always had—but how he’s clearly messing with you on purpose. This is just like his brand of cruelty, embarrassing you further in a social situation. You tune out whatever crap he’s telling the teacher about the fake wedding and you peel his arm away from you, shoving it back into his lap.

“No, that’s not happening.” you object again, harsher this time and Jason merely scoffs through his nose as you deal with the poor confused teacher.

After the meeting, you’re practically corralled out of that room bickering. You somehow end up on the back of his bike instead of in the car you drove here. Somehow, further, letting him inside your place. Shouting over each other about how inconsiderate he is, and how serious you are, curtly removing your outerwear.

“Would it really be that bad?” he yells, that loud voice that gets you weak in the knees booming through your apartment. You’re lucky your babysitter still has your daughter. “Being married to me, would it really be that bad?”

“It’s not about that, Jason! You know that!”

Your objections are drowned out in how his big body herds you into your bedroom, how his hands push you down to rip off your jeans. How he palms your mouth to shut you up while he’s kissing on your neck, clumsily searching for the give in between your legs. His tip eases in as you lazily bat at his hefty shoulders and thick biceps. “Don’t wanna be Mrs. Todd, huh?” You relax under him the longer he’s inside you, rutting into you with patience as you jerk your head away from him. “What’s wrong with that? Don’t want my name? Don’t wanna be a happy little family?”

Your fist bangs against his rotator cuff and he laughs, husky and light in your ear. His teeth latch onto your lobe, playfully tugging on it while he bottoms out, and you emit a noise from your throat.

“Mrs. Todd,” he chides, “So wet for your husband. S’almost like you want it.”

#indy shoots the shit #thanks for the msg!! #anon #[🃏] #indy: drabbles #ch: baby daddy!jason #jason todd drabble #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfiction #baby daddy!jason #baby daddy jason todd #red hood smut #red hood x reader #reader insert

[ushiwhacka]

time skip! ushijima wakatoshi + fem! reader | mdni | 1,080 words | established relationship, prone bone, creampie, body worship, it's still summer in my <3

he’s warm underneath you, skin soaked in sun and dusted in salt flakes. slow in the afternoon heat as you lay entangled, knees knocking together, your nose pressed into his neck, fingers massaging his scalp, and his arms loose around you. he smells of sweet coconut and the sea. 

the air sticky and hot, it wraps around you and sinks into your pores. the kind of warmth that feels like melting, blurs the edges of your bodies into one another. 

you’re lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of his chest, and wake to a kiss on the crown of your head with the taste of his skin sitting on your lips. he washes the dreams out of your eyes   and zips up your dress. drags his knuckles over your spine then kisses you right at the base do your neck.

and he holds you close, lets you cling onto his arm as you walk along cobblestoned streets. your heels unsteady over slippery stones. watches your every step from underneath knitted brows as you look around and gasp and point out pretty buildings. 

wakatoshi tries to get his fill of you, how you purse your lips in thought while reading the menu, how you turn away, just a little flustered under the weight of deep olive eyes. the expectant look on your face as you shove a fork into his mouth, and he agrees that it’s so good because everything you give him is good. 

he holds your hand in his over the table, squeezes it tighter at the feeling of your foot on his calf. unassuming and batting your eyelashes as you go above his knee, press into the muscle of his thigh. 

he’s even more handsome with his skin a deep bronze, a dusting of pink across his sunburnt nose and the tops of his cheeks. he wears his shirt with the top buttons opened just enough for you to see a peek of the hard planes of his chest. and he looks at you with a strange glow in his eyes, only you, precious and his.

and he doesn’t miss the intention in your voice when you coo his name, “wakatoshi,” drag it out into something of a whine, “you should ask for the check.”

you walk with hands intertwined again. maybe it’s the three piña coladas making your head fuzzy, or maybe he has just spoiled you so horribly, but you decide it’s not enough to just hold him. 

you stomp your feet and tug his arm back. “kiss.” you demand with your neck craned up towards him and eyelashes fluttering. 

there’s something about the way he touches you, the way he rubs the pads of his fingers into your cheeks. ardently. gently. how his mouth slots over yours.

the way he sinks onto his knees in the middle of your hotel room. fiddles with the delicate straps of your heels, presses his lips where the buckle has left an imprint in your skin. then he kisses the back of your knee, the inside of your thigh, the wet spot on your panties.

firm hands trace the back of your legs, grip the fat of your ass. he pulls you forward, buries himself deeper between your thighs, helps you rub your pussy on his face. and gasps turn into silent cries each time his nose catches on your clit. the friction only enough to build your frustration.

“wakatoshi,” it comes out so small, “please. i need you inside me.” he can never resist when you look at him with such pleading eyes, with tears welling up at your lash line. “please, toshi.”

he gives you what you want. always does. 

you whimper into the sheets as he sinks into you. his hand on your lower belly, pulling you up towards him. and even when he’s throbbing inside you, every muscle alight with the need to thrust into you, feel your walls stretch painfully around his girth, he resists. he waits until your body relaxes under him. eager lips drag against your spine and over your shoulder blades, leave searing, open-mouthed kisses up the back of your neck. 

his other arm wraps around your chest, holds you close enough that you can feel the beat of his heart against your back. 

gravelly and dark when he speaks in you ear. “are you alright, darling?”

“no.” your voice breaks. “can you just fuck me already?”

you choke on air your own spit when he pushes into you, when you feel him in the deepest parts of you dripping cunt. it’s new and overwhelming and sends a mess of pleas and prayers scratching up your throat. the tip of his cock sits so snug at your cervix, rubs against it each time he grinds his hips into you. so intentionally slow. 

there’s something about being held so tightly, trapped and helpless in his arms, the raw power of his body pressing into you. the already heavy air feels thicker and you gasp to suck in a breath after each drawn out, squeaky whimper. 

all you can feel is him — the amber of his cologne, the heat of his skin, his breath hot and hitching at the nape of your neck, the salty tinge of his sweat where your tongue lolls out to taste his forearm, low grunts that tingle in your ear and down your spine, the hard muscle where you sink your nails into his flesh.

wakatoshi loses himself in the feeling, in you. there’s something predatory and repressed that overwhelms his senses when he has you limp and trembling underneath him. how you take all of him and keen and whine and beg for more. how your pussy squeezes around him, how it drools all hot and slick when he whispers an “i love you” into the fat of your cheek. whiny and sniffling when you demand he comes inside you.

his chest heaving, he drops his forehead in the dip of your shoulders. listens to the sweet sounds of contented sighs sour into complaints when he even thinks about moving away from you. and he gives you what you want once again, drapes his body over yours and nuzzles into your neck, spoils you with kisses so tender they make you giggle. and he lets you spoil him with your love, wring him and twist him in any way you want. because being wanted by you is the most devastating pleasure he’s ever known.

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x you #ushijima wakatoshi x y/n #ushijima smut #ushijima fluff #hq smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you

[scuderiahoney]

On The Horizon

Max Verstappen x reader // Strawberry Wine Pt IV

Masterlist // Series Masterlist

Summary: Like a sunrise over the ocean, there are nothing but good things on the horizon for you and Max.

Word Count: 7.3k

a/n: here she is, part 4 to what was supposed to be a one off story! co-writing credits to @enchantecafe for this one, bc cait helped me workshop basically this entire plot. everyone say thank you cait!!!

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mild sexual references, non graphic/non descriptive mention of vomiting, the lightest sprinkling of angst

“You know,” Lando says, eyeing you and Max warily. “You two are usually my favorite couple to hang out with because you’re not super PDA-ey.”

“Aw, thanks, Lan,” you say sweetly.

“I said usually,” he says. He wrinkles his nose. “But lately you guys are gross.”

You laugh. Lando’s not exactly wrong. Even now, you’re standing in the paddock, and Max has his arm around your middle. His fingers rest comfortably against your side, holding you close with your back against his chest. He’s chatting with GP, not even paying attention to Lando, but he keeps you there. You’re not complaining.

You know why he’s being clingy. You know sometimes he still wakes up and worries you won’t be in bed next to him. You feel it too- the lurching feeling in your chest when he’s out of reach. The inescapable urge to hang onto him for dear life. So you don’t complain when he pulls you close or kisses your forehead in public or holds your hand so tight you worry you’ll lose circulation. You’re clinging just as tight, fingers twisted in the fabric of his jackets as you follow him through crowds, your hands in his pockets when you’re chilly, your face pressed to his chest when you get sleepy. When he’d suggested quitting your job and taking time off to travel with him, you’d eagerly agreed.

“You’re just jealous,” you tease, and Lando balks.

“Am not!” He squeaks. His eyes light up, and he leans around you. “Daniel! Aren’t they being weirdly gross?”

He beckons the older driver over. Daniel saunters over to the group of you. Max is finally paying attention to Lando, drawn in by his frantic waving. Out of anyone, Daniel is the only one who actually knows that you probably are being weird, and the reason behind it. His gaze bounces between you and Max, and he smiles. Then he turns to Lando.

“I think you’re just lonely,” he says, and you laugh. “I could be your wingman, if you want.”

“You’re an awful wingman,” Max teases him.

Daniel turns to him, a fire in his eyes and a smirk on his face. “Really, mate? You wanna say that again?”

You look up at your boyfriend. Max rolls his eyes, but his lips melt into a sheepish smile. For a moment you’re a bit confused- you were dating Max before you ever met Daniel, so he’s not talking about you. But then you remember him picking you up from the club when Charles called, and then how he brought you to Max, and you start to laugh.

Lando makes a noise of confusion. “Seriously, they’re being weird!” He whines. “Something changed.” He reaches for your left hand, grasping at your fingers. “No ring, so it’s not that!”

Your cheeks go red, and this time Daniel’s the one who laughs. Max pulls you closer into his chest and sighs. You pull your hand away from Lando.

“Yeah, when are you gonna make an honest man out of Mr. Verstappen?” Daniel asks teasingly.

You roll your eyes and shove at his shoulder. Lando’s laughing now, too, and you feel Max’s chest rumble with a giggle behind you. For just a second, you let yourself imagine it. A different scenario, where Lando asks why you’re being weird and then spots the ring on your finger. Something simple and elegant, and then Max is holding your hand in his and showing it off, telling everyone the story. You want it. You want him to ask you.

You snap back into the present moment with a racing heart.

“Maybe we should be asking him that, no, schat?” Max teases, pointing at Daniel. “He and his girlfriend have been dating longer than us, you know.”

You laugh. Danny does too.

“S’not about who’s been dating longer,” Daniel says, brows raised. “It’s about who buys the ring first.”

Lando falls into a fit of laughter at their teasing each other. You follow suit. But behind you, Max isn’t laughing, at least not really. And Daniel’s staring him down. Weird. Soon, someone’s calling Max over, and he leaves you with a quick kiss to your forehead. Lando breathes an exaggerated sigh of relief.

You find out what was going on with Max and Daniel later. You’re in bed in the hotel suite they’ve put Max in this weekend. You can hear them talking- Daniel and Max. Daniel and Lando came over to hang out for a bit after dinner- Lando’s since gone to his hotel, but Daniel’s got a tendency to stick around. You went to bed early, but now you’re awake again, and you decide to grab a glass of water from the living area and see if you can convince Max to come to bed. You stop in your tracks in the bedroom, door partially open, when you hear your name. You shouldn’t eavesdrop, you know. But god, you can’t help but want to know what they’re saying. Besides, they’re not exactly being quiet.

“- don’t know, Daniel,” Max says. You hear the scrape of a fork against a plate. “I don’t want to move too fast, you know.”

Daniel scoffs. “You bought the ring months ago. You still have it, don’t you?”

You slip your hand over your mouth. Your heart clenches in your chest. No. That would mean- There’s no way-

“Of course,” Max says. “But it was before… the break, you know?”

“But things are good now?” Daniel asks.

“Of course. Things are good. Maybe better, you know? I just…” he sighs, and you can almost picture him, staring at the counter, rubbing his thumb against it. “I don’t want to scare her off. That comment you made earlier. She looked like a deer in the headlights.” Max sighs again.

“She looked like she was in love with you. Which she is.” Daniel counters.

“Things are good. I don’t want to fuck it up. I’ll wait until I’m sure.”

“And what if you wait too long?” Daniel asks.

You don’t stick around to hear his response. You close the door and make your way back to the bed as quietly as you can, and then crawl back under the covers. Then you stare at the ceiling. Max bought a ring. Max bought the ring before you asked him to take a break. That means that when you said you needed space, Max had been thinking about asking you to marry him. God, you feel sick to your stomach.

When he crawls into bed a while later, you pretend you’re asleep. You can’t shake the heavy guilty feeling- it clings to your bones. You think of Max, the way you left him asleep in your bed that morning, and how he probably had the ring in his bedside drawer. Next to you, he rolls over and wraps his arm around your waist, presses his lips to the shell of your ear. “I know you’re awake.”

You sigh softly, melt back into him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he murmurs. “Talk to me?”

This is his new thing. It’s helping a lot, actually. He notices you slipping, and he calls you out. Talk to me. You’ve gotten so used to it that you’ve started using it, too. Can I just talk to you? He smiles every time you ask, even if you’re close to tears. Because it means you’re trying.

You want to talk to him. You want to apologize, to tell him you heard him talk about the ring, to beg him to forgive you for leaving him that morning. You think of all the times you woke up without him there and how your chest had ached, and you wonder how awful it must feel to reach for someone who isn’t there, expecting skin under your fingers and only finding cold sheets.

But that’s something you’ve talked about and apologized for already. He won’t understand why you’re upset about it all over again unless you admit you heard him talking, and then you’ll have ruined that, too. If, someday down the line, he does decide to ask you, you don’t want it to be because you know about the ring. You don’t want to pressure him into it.

So you roll over in his arms and wrap yourself around him. “I was half asleep, but I was waiting for you,” you say. “I don’t sleep as well when you’re not here.”

It’s not a lie. It’s not the whole truth, either, but it seems to work.

He kisses your forehead, and then your lips. “I’m here, now. Whenever you need me, I’m here.”

…..

You love the ocean. The sounds, the beautiful blue expanse of it, the sand between your toes. You love Max on vacation even more- skin sun warmed, a hazy smile on his lips. So when he suggests a trip to Greece for the summer break, you don’t even have to think about it. He rents out a little villa at a beach resort, one where you’re only steps away from the water and a short walk from everything else you could possibly want. The first night you’re there, you barely make it through a quick room service dinner before you fall asleep, exhausted from the last few weeks of traveling.

The first full day there, though, is magical.

You wake up just after sunrise, pale morning light filtering in through the curtains. Max is still asleep, snoring softly. His hand is resting on your back. You lay there and trace his face with soft fingertips. The slope of his nose, the jut of his jaw, the line of his brow. You could watch him sleep like this forever, you think, as you brush your thumb over his Cupid’s bow.

He wakes up eventually with a flutter of his eyelashes and a stuttered sigh. You take the opportunity to press yourself close and worm your way into his arms. Max isn’t always cuddly, but when he’s only half awake he’s much more receptive to it. He laughs when you press your face into his bare chest, and he wraps his arms around you happily.

“Hi, my love,” he murmurs, squeezing his arms around you tightly. “Good morning.”

“Hello,” you say back drowsily. “Missed you.”

He laughs. “I was right here.”

“I know,” you say.

You didn’t mean for it to be sad, but suddenly your chest feels tight. Max doesn’t push or prod or question you. He just holds you a little bit tighter, lets his hand trace a line up and down your spine. He bends his head to kiss your temple. Both of you know without having to say it. When you say you missed him, you’re not just talking about now. You’re talking about all the time you were apart. Eventually, the feeling passes. You let out a breath, and Max does too.

“What do you want to do today?” He asks. “We could go get breakfast.”

His voice is scratchy and sleep muddled. Part of you wants to ask him to just lay here with you all day. You think he might agree to it.

“It’s 1:00 in the afternoon,” you tell him, and he lets out a laugh.

“We were tired, huh?” He says.

“I’ve been awake,” you tell him. “Waiting on you.”

His hand slips lower, and he pinches your hip lightly. You squeak and try to squirm away, but he holds on tight. Then his fingers are digging into your side as you try to shove him away. He rolls the two of you over until he’s laying on top of you, and then he drops his whole weight on you. You let out a groan.

“We could stay in bed all day,” he suggests.

“Sounds boring,” you joke, despite the fact that you’d just had the same thought.

Max muffles a laugh into your collarbone. “I can make it interesting.”

You sigh softly when he disappears under the covers. His hands slide down your bare sides, and you think maybe he’s right.

You finally crawl out of bed by 2:30 and head for the shower. Max, of course, tries to follow you, but you banish him from the bathroom, insisting that you want to go do something, knowing he’ll never let you out of the hotel room if he gets his hands on you again. You trade places with him after you’re done, though he tries his best to coax you back under the warm spray of water with him. It almost works. Finally, by 3:30, the two of you set off for a walk along the beach.

“Are you hungry?” He asks.

His fingers are knit with yours, and the two of you walk in step with each other. He’s wearing a white button up, the top two buttons undone. His hair is perfectly tousled, still damp despite your attempts to blow dry it for him after you dried your own. And god, the smile on his lips, that peaceful little grin, makes your heart melt.

“M’starving,” you admit, bumping your arm against his.

He smirks down at you. You elbow him deliberately this time. He keeps your fingers together as he laughs. You never want him to let go.

“Let’s get you some food, then,” he says.

You have a wonderful, very late lunch at a little seafood place right on the beach. You spend the rest of the daylight lounging on the beach with him. He lays out a beach blanket just down the shore from your villa and carries all the supplies down for you- snacks and towels and sunscreen and your book off the nightstand. You lay in the warm sun and listen to the crash of the waves and watch the rise and fall of his back. He’s going to fall asleep on the beach and get sunburned if you’re not careful, so you drag him into the water instead. Waves crash around your legs and tug at your toes. He follows you willingly, knee deep in bright blue. His hands fall to your hips, warm and sandy on your bare skin.

If you could stay right here with him forever, you would. You’d let the ocean swallow both of you whole and hold on tight to him. That fleeting thought passes your mind again, along with the tight feeling in your chest, and you try to push it away. You almost lost him.

Max cocks his head at you and squeezes your hips. “Talk to me.”

You sigh. “I just. I almost lost you. I almost fucked everything up so badly.”

Max doesn’t argue, but he brushes his lips against your forehead and says. “But we’re here now.”

“I just feel guilty sometimes, you know? When we have these nice moments, I feel like I don’t deserve them.” You say.

He nods and then cups your face in his hands. His thumbs press gently into your cheeks. His eyes are like the ocean, wide and blue and washing over you.

“I love you,” he says, so heartfelt it makes your head swim. “And we’re here. I’m not going anywhere. You deserve all of this. There’s nobody I’d rather be here with than you.”

Eventually, standing in the water and staring up at him, the feeling passes. It melts off your shoulders and washes away with the waves. You tell him you love him, too, and watch the words wash over him like water.

Two days later, you share an even later dinner in the fancy restaurant near your villa. It’s a white tablecloth, candles in the centerpiece sort of affair. You almost feel underdressed in your long sundress, but Max tells you you look beautiful and that’s more than enough for you. You have good food and better wine and you hook your ankle around his under the tablecloth. It’s everything you want it to be, and it’s only the first day.

Neither of you really feel like sleeping, even though it’s nearly 2am by the time you make your way back to your villa. The world is dark outside, the sun having sunk below the horizon hours ago. Max is laying on the bed, legs hanging off the edge as you putter around the room, humming to yourself and picking up the clothes you left everywhere while you got ready for dinner. He’s watching you, you can feel it.

“You know what I wish we had?” You voice.

He props himself up in his elbows to look at you. “What, schat? Anything you want, I’ll get it for you.”

Heat swirls in your stomach, and you turn to stare at him. “Strawberry wine.”

Max juts his chin towards you. “You said you didn’t like the taste of it anymore.”

He’s talking about the night where he found you on the rooftop. Your hands fall to your sides, and your chest feels tight again. You wish that feeling would just go away.

“No, I- it’s not…” you sigh. “I do. I was just feeling so guilty, and drinking it just reminded me…”

Max nods in understanding. He pushes himself up to sitting on the edge of the bed. “Look in my suitcase.”

You frown and stare at him. He nods again, and you turn to where his suitcase sits on the dresser. You flip the lid open, face to face with his clothes. When he doesn’t say anything, you dig past the layers until your hand hits glass. Your heart lurches in your chest and tears prick at the corner of your eyes. God, you love him.

You wrap your hand around the bottle and reach for the beach blanket, sitting on the dresser next to the suitcase. You turn back to Max, cradling the bottle of wine to your chest. He’s smiling up at you from the bed.

“You should find a corkscrew,” you tell him. “And meet me on the beach.”

Max laughs as you step out of the sliding glass door and head for the ocean. Then you hear him scrambling to follow.

“I was going to save it for the last night,” he tells you when he meets you on the beach. “But this seems perfect.”

You hold the bottle out to him. “Why wait?”

He takes it from you and pulls the cork out with expert precision. You watch the way his arms flex as he does, lit up in pale moonlight. He hands the bottle to you so you can have the first drink. It’s warm and far too sweet, but it’s exactly what you wanted. You sigh happily and hand it back to him. He seems to brace himself before he takes a drink. Anxiety blooms in your chest.

“I still like it,” he reassures you, knowing you’ve caught the look on his face. “I just. I got sick once and threw it up. It’s not as good on the way back up.”

You frown, taking a step closer to him. The sand is cool between your toes. When you grab his hand, it’s warm and firm.

“You got sick? When?” You ask.

The look on his face makes your stomach lurch, and suddenly you wish you hadn’t asked.

He tilts his head. “Do you want to know now?”

It’s going to hurt, you know. You get glimpses of Max, of what he went through when you were apart, and they tear you to shreds. But in the same way you owe him answers to how you’re feeling, you owe him this, too. He’d been hesitant to tell you things at first, worried you were only trying to punish yourself. But he understands now, though he still gives you the chance to back out each time.

You nod. He sighs and sits down. You sink onto the blanket next to him and rest your head on his shoulder. He takes another sip from the bottle before he hands it to you, and then he tells you.

It was the night he came home while you were there gathering stuff to take back to Audrey’s with you. He’d had Italian food and a bottle of wine, asked you to have dinner with him. Space, Max. You can remember how you said it, the tired defeat in your voice. How small he looked sitting in the kitchen. You’ve often wondered what would’ve been different if you’d just sat down with him that night.

He tells you then, on the beach under the stars, what happened after you left. How he’d tossed his food in the trash, put yours in the fridge like maybe you’d come back for it. Then he took the bottle of wine onto the balcony, stared at the lights of the city, and drank the whole thing.

“Sugary wine on an empty stomach,” he says, lightly. “Not a good mix.”

You don’t laugh. You never do when he tells you these things, despite how casual he tries to make them sound, how he tries to play it off. He’s trying to protect you by joking about it, you know. But the thought of him throwing up all alone, in the home the two of you made together, makes you feel sick. You wrap your arms around his upper arm and try not to cry. He grabs your knee with his other hand.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “I’m so sorry.”

He shushes you and rests his head against yours. “We weren’t ready to talk,” he says, so sure of it that you just know he’s right. “If you’d have sat down we both would’ve acted like nothing happened and then…”

You’d have ended up right back where you started, sooner or later.

You sniffle. “Yeah.”

He takes another drink. “I love you,” he says, because you think he thinks if he says it enough you might really believe it again. “So much. More than strawberry wine or racing or anything in the whole world.”

You press your hand over your mouth. “I love you. You are my whole world, Max.”

The time slips away like sand through your fingers. You sit and talk and talk, about everything and nothing at all. You kiss and hold each other close. The stars shine above your heads, and the moon lights up the water. You draw designs in the sand with his fingers. Waves crash on the shore and wash them away, and you think each one washes away just a little bit more of the pain you’ve been feeling. You dig your feet into the sand, press your hands to the ground, and breathe deep. Next to you, Max watches and laughs and wraps his arms around your shoulders.

“My sweet strawberry,” he murmurs into your hair. “I missed you.”

You know he’s not talking about now. In front of you, you see the sun begin to peek up over the horizon. You blink through a fresh blur of tears and hold onto his elbow. Sleep is pulling at your bones, but the sun is rising and painting everything pink. You stand up, take his hands, and drag him to the water’s edge. He chatters about your dress, about how much he likes it and doesn’t want the saltwater to ruin it. You turn towards the sun, your back to him, and pull it over your head, leaving you in your bra and underwear.

He chokes, and when you turn over your shoulder to look at him, he’s searching the beach frantically. “Nobody’s awake,” you tell him. “It’s just us.”

He’s grinning at you then, cheeks rosy pink even without the help of the sunrise. And then he pulls his shirt over his head and hops his way out of his shorts. You run into the waves before he can get to you, and he follows, fingers reaching for yours.

When he wraps his arms around you, both of you tumble into the water. You come up for air next to him in the pink sea. He kisses you between laughs, waves crashing around you, and it mends another piece of your heart. His too, you think.

…..

You see Daniel in the paddock at the first race after the summer break. He greets you both with hugs and then reaches for your left hand. He sighs dramatically and rubs his thumb against your empty ring finger, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“He’s got absolutely no balls, does he?” Daniel teases.

Next to you, Max scoffs.

You look up at Daniel and sigh forlornly. “I got my nails done and everything, Danny.”

Max chokes on a laugh. “You would’ve gotten them done either way, we were on vacation!”

You shrug and look up at him, winking conspiratorially. Daniel is already off on a tangent about nails and beaches and perfect proposals. But you watch Max’s face, the way he smiles down at you, and you hope he knows you’re ready. That you’d follow him anywhere if he just asked you to. He ignores Danny’s ramblings and kisses your temple. Nearby, Lando sees it and groans loudly.

…..

In the early fall, for the first time since the break, Max heads off to a Grand Prix alone. He leaves you behind in your shared apartment. It feels strange. It didn’t used to be like this- both of you were good at being independent, at understanding you couldn’t be together all the time. But now you sit at the kitchen island and stare at his empty seat and wonder why you didn’t just go with him.

This feeling will fade, you remind yourself. If Max was here, he'd reach out and hold your hand. But he’s in another country, in a hotel room somewhere, probably already asleep. You have to get used to being alone sometimes. You sit at the counter and scroll on your phone and try not to think about how quiet the apartment is. When you’re finished eating you join the cats on the couch, finding comfort in other living beings and the way they remind you of Max. You think back to when you were first seeing each other, the way they followed you around and Max called them traitors. They still seem to like you more most days.

You wake up hours later with a dry mouth, face smashed against the couch cushion. The tv is still on, playing some show that definitely isn't what you were watching. Someone’s phone is ringing on the show.

No. Wait. Your phone is ringing. You scramble for it, heart racing when you see Max’s face on the screen.

“Max?” You answer.

You hear a soft sniff, and then a huff. “I was trying to get your voicemail. Did I wake you?”

“No,” you lie. “I was up. M’watching-“ you rub your eyes and stare at the TV screen. “Watching Say Yes to the Dress.”

“At 3 in the morning?” He says, bewildered.

“It’s 3am?” You ask, sitting up. “Shit, I should go to bed.”

You can almost hear Max rolling his eyes. “Did you fall asleep on the couch?”

“I was awake,” you insist. “Hold on, why were you trying to get my voicemail?”

Max sighs. “Schatje, you should go to bed.”

“Max.”

“I woke up and you weren’t here,” he admits. “I haven’t woken up without you since the break… and I can sit here and tell myself everything is fine but I wanted to hear your voice.”

“So really, it’s better that I answered,” you tell him.

He sighs again. “Yes, but you should be sleeping.”

“I haven’t gone to bed without you here since then,” you remind him. “I might be avoiding it a little bit.”

He hums. You hear the sheets rustle on his end. “Why don’t you go lay down in bed, and we can talk until you fall asleep?”

It sounds nice, so you agree. You head for the bathroom and brush your teeth while Max tells you about his day. You put the phone on speaker while you change your clothes and tell him about the cats and the lady at the coffee shop that morning who complimented your outfit- he, of course, asks for pictures. Then you lay down in bed, clad in nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of underwear, and snuggle deep into the blankets. You wrap your arms around his pillow, press your nose in it, and close your eyes. As he talks quietly, you can almost pretend he’s there.

When you wake up and he isn’t next to you, tears spring to your eyes. But the cats are curled up in bed with you, and the sheets still smell like him, because he hasn’t been gone long and he’s coming back, sooner than it feels. You’ll make it through this, and when you see him again you know he’ll hold you close and kiss you and tell you he loves you. And then he’ll beg you to never let him sleep alone again.

You remind yourself that soon enough you’ll be back to traveling with him. You’ve just missed out on a lot of time with friends in the past few months, busy reconnecting with Max and yourself. Both you and Max had thought maybe it was a good time to do a trial run, to remember what it’s like to be away from each other. At first, it sounded like he was suggesting space, which had nearly sent you into a tailspin, but he explained and you realized he was right. Honestly, though, you hate it, so you’ll be taking him up on his offer to follow him across the globe for the rest of the season. You’ll have to go back to work and your normal life eventually, but not yet.

When you tell him that, he’s all smiles and no complaints.

“I missed you like hell,” he says.

“Yeah, I missed you too,” you reply.

…..

When the winter break finally starts, after Abu Dhabi and all the other little events he has to go to post season, you and Max fly home and sleep for nearly 12 hours. When you wake up, the sun is low in the sky, your mouth is dry and tastes awful, and there are lines from the sheets pressed deep into Max’s cheek. He smiles at you from his spot on the pillow, and then he kisses you even as you protest about your probably awful morning breath. You think back to the first time you woke up in bed with him, how timid you were then, how you’d brushed your teeth before he even woke up. Now here you are.

It’s 9:00 in the morning, and Max suggests going for a drive. You tease him, ask if he hasn’t done enough driving this year, but you agree anyways. You ask where to, and he says it’s a surprise. The two of you take your time getting ready, having nowhere to be at any specific time for the first time in what feels like forever. You throw on a sundress and comfortable shoes and bring along a light jacket. Max grabs drinks and snacks for in the car, and then you’re off.

He drives like he knows where he’s going, despite the fact that the route doesn’t seem very familiar to you. He’s not headed to Nice, or Italy, or towards any of your favorite breakfast restaurants in Monaco. But you love him, and he has this excited smile on his face, so you don’t ask questions.

You play music from your phone on the way, a mix the two of you started when you first started dating and have continued to add to since. It’s mostly your music and songs you think he might like, but he adds a few every so often. Here Comes The Sun by the Beatles comes on, and you both look at each other with wide smiles. He takes your hand as you both sing along. You think about months before, how burned out and worn down you were, and how happy you are to just be next to him now. Here comes the sun, indeed.

Eventually, he maneuvers the car through the French countryside. You spot a little roadside farm stand and tug on his hand. The sign boasts about fresh flowers and fruit, and Max squeezes your hand in response.

“Want some flowers?” He asks.

“Always,” you say.

He pulls into a parking spot. You follow him out of the car and up the path to the farm stand. There are rows upon rows of flower bouquets, vegetables, bread, and…

“Strawberries,” you say, softly. “It’s December, how do they have fresh strawberries?”

It should be impossible. You know when to get the best strawberries- the middle of July, when they’re fresh picked. But these are bright and red and you swear you can almost smell the sweetness. You turn to look for Max, who’s inspecting the flowers, trying to pick the perfect bouquet.

“Max,” you say, and he looks up at you with a smile. “Strawberries.”

He raises his brows and grins widely, making his way to you. He nudges your shoulder with his, looking down at the containers of berries.

“You want some?” He asks.

“I mean, yeah, but- it’s winter, it’s so far out of season,” you say. “How are they fresh?

“We grow them in the greenhouse,” a girl says in a heavy French accent. You look up at her, and she’s smiling at you. “You like strawberries?”

“They’re my favorite,” you say.

“Would you like to see?” She asks, pointing behind her. “They’re perfect right now.”

You look at her with wide eyes, then look to Max. “Can we?”

“Of course,” he says, the soft look on his face that he reserves just for you. “You go ahead, I’ll meet you in there. I left my phone in the car, you’ll want pictures.”

He scurries off and leaves you alone with the girl. She waves you along towards the domed greenhouse. When she opens the door, warm air pours out- it’s not cold outside, really, but it’s much warmer in the building. You step in and breathe in the humid air, and it smells like strawberries.

There are rows upon rows of the plants on tables, growing wildly, covered in berries. Tiny white flowers dot between the green leaves. There are little round string lights hanging from the ceiling, lighting up the greenhouse even on the cloudy day. You take a step towards the aisle, then stop yourself, but the worker nods. You stroll between rows of strawberry plants, a little haven in the middle of the countryside in France.

“We sell them here, and then we also send them to a winery just down the road,” she tells you. “We grow them all year. The farm owner, his wife loves strawberries.”

You smile softly, running a finger over one of the delicate leaves. “So do I,” you say.

You hear the door open, and Max steps inside, looking around with a soft grin. His eyes are lit up. You wave him over, entranced by the tiny white flowers.

“I’ll leave you two to explore,” the girl says. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

She shuts the door behind her. Max makes his way towards you. His footsteps fall softly on the ground. You have the urge to pause this moment forever. He steps up next to you and slips his hand into yours, fingers intertwined, slotted together like puzzle pieces. If you could hold onto him forever, you would.

It’s just. Forever sounds nice, doesn’t it. His wife loves strawberries. How romantic. How sweet. That’s love, in its purest form, isn’t it? To know what your person likes so much that you’ll defy nature to give it to them. Build a greenhouse and fill it with plants just for them. You’d move the world for Max. You know he’d do the same for you. And that’s enough- that’s more than enough, it’s everything you’ve ever needed and the strawberry on top, too. You feel his thumb brush against the back of your hand and think you’d be happy with just this, just him, forever. You don’t need a ring or a piece of paper to tell you that. His hand in yours is enough.

And then you turn and find Max kneeling down, a little black box in his hand.

Your heart is suddenly racing, all the air sucked out of your lungs. Tears fill your eyes immediately, but you’re smiling so wide you think it’ll split your whole face. Max keeps one hand linked with your left one, and you raise the other one to cover your mouth. You’re going to cry before he even says anything. You glance up at the ceiling to try to will the tears away, but then he says your name and you’re drawn right back to him.

He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. “Liefje,” he says, voice wavering with emotion. “I love you so much. I have for a long time now. And I want more. I want forever.” He opens the box, and you don’t even bother looking at the ring. “Will you-“

“Yes,” you squeak out, before he can even really ask if. “I love you, yes, I-“

He laughs, slides the ring onto your finger with shaky hands. And then you’re reaching for him, pulling him up towards you, desperate to kiss him. His lips meet yours and that last little piece of your heart falls into place. Because yeah, forever sounds pretty great.

He holds you close, and you rest your head on his shoulder, your hand on his chest. He reaches for your hand so he can look at the ring on your finger. There are tears in his eyes, now, too. You brush them off his cheeks with a shaky thumb.

It washes over you, suddenly. “Oh my god, you knew!” You say, wide eyed. “You didn’t just see the sign and ask if I wanted flowers, you-“

He laughs and cups the side of your face in his free hand. “I knew. I found you strawberries in the winter.”

A love so big you’d defy nature to give them what they want. His love is so big you’re not sure you’ll ever feel like you deserve it. But he stands there and holds you and whispers the sweetest things in your ears, and you know it’s true. You know it because it’s exactly how you feel about him. You’d give him the world if you could.

“I love you,” you say.

It’s all you can say, it’s everything, and it’ll never be enough to explain how you feel. You think he gets that, though.

He takes pictures of you in the strawberry house, has you hold your left hand over the plants to get the perfect photo. He admits that he’d had the worker take some photos through the door, too, on a nicer camera that the owners of the farm had offered when he planned this whole thing. They’ve promised to send the pictures later. When you leave the greenhouse, the worker is smiling knowingly. She hands you a bouquet of white flowers and a large container of strawberries, and says they’re a gift. You wonder if there’s a way to keep the strawberries forever. You wish there was.

As you walk to the car, you see an elderly man standing at the house nearby, his wife clinging to his arm. They’re waving. You and Max wave back, and your heart fills with warmth. It feels like a blessing.

“Where to now?” You ask.

He shrugs, grin wide as ever. “It’s lunchtime, and I hear there’s a winery down the road.”

You talk his ear off on the drive, about how much you love him and the ring and the strawberries and how you hope the wine is as good as your wine. He laughs and tells you he loves you too, and that he hopes the same. It’s only when you see the sign out front that you realize.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, tears already forming in your eyes again. “Oh my god.”

He laughs, puts the car in park, and leans over the center console to pull you close. “All this time, and we never knew this place was this close, huh?”

On the sign, there’s a logo. It’s one you know well. You’ve seen it countless times on bottle labels and corks, the ones that sit in his bedside table and in your jewelry box. It’s your wine. For a split second, the feeling is back- you don’t deserve this, a tight weight on your chest, crushing your rib cage. But Max is holding you, and there’s a ring on your finger that says he wants you forever. You didn’t lose him. You figured it out together, the way you always do and always will.

And now he’s brought you to the place that makes the wine that started it all. He brought you to see where they grow the damn strawberries. Back to the very beginning of it to start a new future.

“I love you,” you repeat, because you don’t think you could ever tell him enough. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, schat,” he says, pressing the words right into the skin of your temple. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He slides the ring off your finger at the table inside the winery, even though you protest immediately. But then he turns it over, holds it out to show you the inside. A tiny strawberry, engraved in the metal.

“So you always have strawberries,” he says. “No matter what time of year or where you are.” Then he slides the ring back on your finger before tapping on the stone. “And to remind you that you always have me. No matter when or where.”

You let the tears run down your cheeks at the table and hold onto his hand tightly. He’s tearing up again, too. Neither of you seem to mind. How could you, when there’s a bottle of strawberry wine in a bucket on the table in front of you, and forever on the horizon ahead of you?

…..

Two days later, when you finally make it home- he’d booked a hotel for you to stay at for a couple nights with the deepest tub and softest bed you’ve ever seen- you take him by the hand and drag him to your bedroom. He starts laughing, like he thinks he knows what’s happening. But you drag him to your nightstand instead of the bed and slip your hand into the drawer, coming out with a thin black box that you hand to him.

“I knew you’d want to be the one to pop the question, but I knew when that did happen… I would want you to have something, too,” you say, softly.

Inside the box is a gold cuff bracelet. He picks it up and turns it in his hand, thumb brushing against the smooth metal. You watch him look at the inside of it, and when he sees the strawberry engraved there, tears fill his eyes. He slips it on.

“I cut a little piece off the cork from the first bottle,” you tell him, as you rub your thumb against his wrist and the bracelet. “And they ground it up and mixed it with the metal. I’m sure it, you know, got hot and burned up or whatever, but the essence is there,” you say with a shrug. “So that wherever you are, you’ll have that with you. I mean. If you want to wear it-“

“Liefje,” he says, voice wavering. “Thank you. I love it. I love you.”

The look on his face is so soft it makes your heart melt. He kisses you then, and you feel the bracelet press against your jaw as he holds your face in his hands. You press your left hand to his cheek and you know he feels the ring there, too. Love in physical form, finally resting on your skin and his instead of hidden away in bedside drawers. It’s almost relieving. Like something you’ve been waiting a long time for has finally fallen into place.

Check out the final part of the series, Love Of My Life!

a/n: did you catch the dialogue from the poll? hope so :) thanks for reading!

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @ggaslyp1

#max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #max verstappen series #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 fic #formula one fluff #formula one x reader #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #strawberry wine verse #mv33 #honeywrites #dr3 #ln4

[costelloschoice]

Bad Girl -Mizu x fem!reader -warnings: nsfw, you fucked around and are about to find out, dom! Mizu, sub! reader, spanking, hair pulling, name calling, degradation, face sitting, pussy slapping, strap on, Mizu kinda mean, but makes it up with aftercare and being gentle -minors dni or I'll steal all of your left shoes -reblogs and comments are appreciated ;]

You should've listened to her, now look at where you're at.

You're laid out across her lap, tears pricking your eyes and her hand comes down across your ass. It hurt so bad, but also hurt so good. She was still upset with you from earlier in the day.

"I told you not to go in without my command," she repeated, slapping your already reddened ass, "But who didn't listen? Hm? Who decided to act like the fucking brat they are and run in?" Mizu questioned, slapping again.

"M-Me..I did.." you whimpered, earning yourself another slap. "I was the brat who didn't listen to you..." panting, the slaps stopped for a second. Mizu breathed through her nose before grabbing the back of your hair and pulling your backwards, making you yelp.

"I wanted to have a good night with you, you know that? Fuck you in this little hotel after a hard day. But you decided to act like a little bitch and defy me...Siding with Taigen on just going in like an idiot instead of sneaking around someone who could barely hear!" she said, looking at your pathetic expression and hearing a small, just as pathetic 'I'm sorry'

"I don't want to hear you're sorry...You're going to show it," she said, moving you off her lap. You watched her undress herself, removing her navy-blue everyday attire and her underwear. She carefully took of the bandages around her chest, looking down at you, "On your back..."

You listened, not wanting to piss her off even more. You watched as Mizu stood over you, soon kneeling and resting her cunt in your mouth, "You know what to do, or do I have to tell you want to do again?" she snapped, making you act fast. Your tongue and mouth immediately started working on her pussy. Licking her wet hole, your nose rubbing and bumping again her hardened clit.

Though you did piss her off, you knew how to please her without any problem. She wanted to keep being mad at you...but your face is so adorable.

Mizu moaned softly, looking down as you . Your eyes were closed, but she could tell from your actions how eager you were to taste her. Her hand rested on top of your head, "That's it, fuck, you know how to eat my cunt...Maybe I might forgive you if you can make me cum," she smirked, moving her hips to grind against your face.

You groaned, humming as your touching dipped in and out of her. Mizu's pussy was warm, and you loved it. Knowing this was a punishment, you still couldn't help but love how she shoved her cunt into your face. When she started to move her hips, her moans grew since your nose was rubbing against her clit.

Her grinding gotten faster, moaning like whore in a brothel, "Fuck..! Ah, yes my dove...K-Keeping going.." she panted, eyes closing as she bends forwards and places her hands down on the wooden floor beneath you two. Mizu's whines and moans gotten louder, making you work harder.

Mizu's movement halt, a hand holding onto your hair tightly as she came in your mouth. Her moans was so beautiful and powerful. Her pants softened, moving off your face. Mizu's slick was covering your mouth, chin and nose area. You opened your eyes and looked at her.

She pulled you up and kissed you, even if she was still pissed at you. Mizu rested your head in her lap, her hand moving between your legs to circle your clit. Mizu wanted to prep you, "You're going to take my fingers and fucking like it," she growled, her middle finger slipping into your already wet pussy.

"Aw? Wet from me riding your face? Cute..." she mumbled, her fingers moving fast. Your moans were uncoordinated and loud, "M-Mizu..! Thank you for giving me your fingers," you said, feeling your lower stomach coil in pleasure. She fingers were long and slender, making it easy for her to hit your g-spot.

She wasn't going to let you cum, but bring you close enough to drive you crazy. When she pulled her fingers out, you wanted to protest...but you knew better. Mizu lightly slapped your cunt, smiling mischievously at you, "Did you really think I was going to let you finish? Stupid, stupid girl..."

You know couldn't have complained even if you wanted to, it would've fell on deaf ears. While you laid on the floor, Mizu was putting the strap on her body. Her body language showed on of a predator over it's prey. She moved between your legs and positioned herself.

Running the tip over your slit, "I don't know if you even deserve this tonight..." she said, tutting at you. You shook your head, "N-No! Please! I'll be good, Mizu. Please, I'm so sorry for earlier...I want to be your good girl again," you pleaded with her, tears threating your eyes. You already felt so bad from today's mission, you at least wanted to make it up to her.

She noticed your tears. She was mean, not cruel. Even if she was cruel, it would never be towards you. Mizu knew you always wanted to make her happy, she wiped your tears, "Fine, you took your punishment already..." she said, slowly pushing into you. Your small gasp made her smile. As she thrusted into you, you held onto her. You shouted her name like prayer, like you needed her. And you did. Mizu looked down as she thrusted, her hard rhythmic thrusts hitting your spot every time.

"You don't listen, that makes you a bad girl...But I know how desperate you are to be my good girl again," She panted, watching your face as you moan and take everything, she had to give you. Nodding your head, you wanted to be her.

"Say 'I'm a spoiled brat and don't know how to listen unless I have a dick fucking me'..."

"I-I'm a spoiled b-brat and don't know how to listen...u-unless I have a dick fucking me!"

"Say it again..."

"I'm a spolied brat who l-loves being fucked..!

You moaned loudly, the sound of skin her skin slapping against yours. As she talked you through, you got close again. "Mizu...C-Can I cum? Please, please, please let me..." you begged, holding onto her tightly.

As much as she didn't, you already took so much and she already took a lot of anger out on you regrading today's mission. She gave you a nod, only to move harder and faster. Mizu rested her head in the crook of your neck, focusing on her movements as you moaned louder. Soon your legs wrapped around her waist, clinging tightly as you finished.

Soon, you were laying in her lap. Mizu was applying an aloe-based lotion to your bum, knowing you were sore from the spanking. You looked so beautiful and peaceful in her arms. Your soft smile as she rubbed the lotion into your skin.

"Did I hurt you bad?" she asked, making you shake your head. "Not al all...but I am sorry from earlier today," you frowned, looking up at her "I should've listened to you...I was just so caught up in the adrenaline that I just...went," you explained, holding onto her.

She nodded, holding you close. You looked so upset with yourself, "My dove...I don't doubt your upset with yourself. I just...I just want you to be safe and I don't think I could ever handle you ever getting hurt," She admitted, kissing your cheek.

"You won't lose me, I promise you..." You smiled, kissing her gently. Mizu couldn't have been happier with you.

#bes #bes mizu #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x you #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai x you #mizu #wlw

[forcheol]

౨ৎ 3:37 AM — csc

synopsis you need to pee but there’s a slight issue… pairing seungcheol x reader genre fluff, timestamp note i just fucking miss this man so much. it’s 4:37am. i miss you, scoups :c word count 0.9k

you need to pee. like really bad. one small issue: there’s a thick & heavy arm over the middle of your torso which is making it difficult for you to move because if you just tried to push it off, you might wake the sleeping bear in human form next to you. aka, your boyfriend.

seungcheol’s fingers twitch a little from where they’re tucked between your body and the mattress, he always twitched a little when very deep in his sleep. you found it sort of…endearing, causing you to go absolutely heart-eyes at his sleeping form.

your boyfriend was a deep sleeper — especially when he’s had a long & tiring day — which is why you started contemplating whether you should just shove his arm off you & go pee or just forget about that option so that he doesn’t wake up with a pout (although you love to see it).

at first, you decided with the latter option & tried to fall back asleep…it didn’t work, the urge to relieve yourself intensified. so you decided to go with the other option. slowly placing your hands on seungcheol’s forearm, you push it away as carefully as you can in order to not wake him up. he stirs, mumbling a quiet ‘hm, cinnamon buns’ and a giggle begins to build in the back of your throat because is this man seriously dreaming about cinnamon buns? you might just have to go out & buy him some tomorrow.

nevertheless, you carry on with your mission. gently, you push his arm away inch by inch until it’s no longer resting on you but the tiny space between you & him.

the blanket, you slide it off your body & sneak out of your bed after slotting your feet into the fluffy cow slippers seungcheol bought for you (he saw you browsing them & ordered them secretly). mouthing a small ‘phew’ as you reach the bathroom, you quickly look back before shutting the door & doing what you came to do.

when you were done, you quickly slinked back to your & seungcheol’s bedroom to get back into bed. but you jump as soon as you turn around after closing the door because there’s seungcheol…sitting up against the headboard of your bed, with the comforter wrapping him up.

“why are you awake? did i wake you up? sorry, cherry, i didn’t mean to…” you voice out after gathering yourself.

“where did you go? it was warm but then all of a sudden it got cold” his voice was heavy & thick with sleep. you walked closer & he lifted a corner of the comforter, giving you access to get under the covers.

“i just went to the bathroom, cherry, and i didn’t wanna wake you,” you replied, “come on, let’s get back to sleep.”

“mm, s’okay. just missed holding you in my arms”, he pulls you down into his embrace & burying his nose into your hair.

“you were holding onto me so tight, you know. and i needed to pee so bad but i thought ‘leave it, i’ll pee in the morning’ and then you tightened your hold on me, you monster!” with fake annoyance in your voice, you nudged him a little & watched as a lazy smile appeared on his face, dimples peeking out faintly. you adored his dimples, loved seeing them, too.

“sorry, baby, just wanted to hold you…” his body became lax in your reciprocating hold the more you snuggled into him, “but, baby, why do you keep calling me cherry?”

“hm? you don’t like it? okay, let’s try somethi—”

“no! i mean, no, i didn’t say that…just answer the question.” your left brow goes up as you stare at him with amusement.

“okay. well, i don’t know, it just came to my head. maybe it’s because of your cute lips, cherry coloured and cherry flavoured. they’re just so pretty, i just wanna kiss you all the time!” your pointer finger goes to poke his plush lips & his pout reappears once more.

“and that pout! you’re so” you pinch his cheeks with your pointer finger & thumb, “so adorable, my silly cherry!” now, you pull and squish his cheeks. a giggle falls from his squished lips & it’s contagious. his laugh is so beautiful & contagious, it makes you laugh too.

“hm, if they’re so pretty to you then why don’t you kiss them?” he says slowly while stopping your finger & thumb from pinching any further while moving closer to you. you pretend to think it over before giving him a sweet kiss on the very lips you love & adore, pulling away with a ‘mwah!’.

seungcheol loves it when you do that. he loves dearly the random yet fitting nicknames you give him, the warmth you give him on a cold & rainy day, the hugs you give him after trudging up behind him on a lazy sunday morning, watching him cook scrambled eggs — just the way you like them. seungcheol loves you.

seungcheol lets out a yawn and moves closer to you — if that’s possible, given how close he was to you already.

“m’ sleepy ‘nd warm now, let’s sleep.” he says quietly, replacing that same arm around your torso that got you into this cutesy situation.

“goodnight, my silly cherry.” you kiss his forehead and bring your head back down to his chest. his heartbeat is fast, it makes you smile knowing you can still do that to him.

“mm, night night, my silly girl.”

author’s note: no this not me self indulging, what are you talking about??? sigh i just wanna be his silly girl, cooped up in his arms in our bed on a rainy day while we watch a movie we took 15 minutes to pick. i miss him. a lot. like more than i can explain through text. my cherry :(

btw i actually needed to pee & then thought of this & bam. this happened. I MISS HIM wanna kiss his cheeks & cute lips so bad & wanna hug him sm.

#hani writes! #hani writes: csc #hani writes: svt #caratsland #scoups i miss you soooooo much #come back healthy and strong my cherry #seventeen fluff #scoups #choi seungcheol #scoups imagines #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #seventeen #seventeen imagines

[reveluving]

I imagine Graves wife waiting for him all anxious and he comes back from deployment and just throwing her on the couch and taking off her clothes like animal. He starts to lick her pussy like starved man and then thrusting his cock so fast into her cunt that both of them fell off the couch landing on the carpet. And he just laughs darkly and puts her legs on his shoulders and thrust so deep that she gets oversteamulated 🥵

*incoherent noises* THANK YOU!!! EATING THIS UP RN 💳💥💳💥💳

Includes; soft (& slightly mean) graves, fingering, unprotected sex (p in v), petnames ('pretty', 'baby'), biting & marking, oral (f receiving, mentions of m receiving)

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

It starts off pretty innocent at first when you immediately run up to him as soon as he closes the front door and puts his bags down.

Pressing kisses after kisses anywhere around your face while he has his arms around you. Whispering ‘I miss you’ in your ear when he reaches your jaw. 

But then, it escalates.

He’s feeling a little mean, bunching up the rear coverage of your shorts/panties and then pulling them upwards just enough for the material to rub against the crack of your ass, down to your pussy lips, all while he’s kissing you ravenously. You can feel his smirk against your lips when he hears you whimper and whine. 

He has you stark naked, leaving as many marks on his pretty wife as possible before hinting to you what’s coming next by taking one of his gloves off with his teeth.

He switches between biting and licking the plush of your thighs while pumping two fingers in and out of your to shoving his tongue into your pussy, the way his nose bumps against your clit sends shivers up your spine. 

He will not stop until you cum around his fingers, a little ‘thank you’ to his beloved for waiting for him. Two–three, the thickness has you squealing and gasping, while he coos over your reactions, then lewdly licks his middle finger, enjoying the taste of you with a shameless groan.

Then, comes the real deal.

“Oh, fuck,” He groans loudly, bending forward to attach his lips to yours, tongue and all, while one of his hands slides up to interlace his fingers with yours, “C’mere.”

He forces you on the carpet, pillow readily under you (when did he put it there?) before pulling your legs over his shoulders. He doesn’t shove his cock into you like he did before, not yet, much to your dismay, just slides himself in between your lips. You’re dying to look away as if it’ll stop the wet sounds from your last orgasm, but you know he’ll just force your chin back, maybe even slide his fingers into your beautiful, kissable lips.

He teases you further by staring into your eyes with his gaze—dark and half-lidded, feeling the same smirk before against your skin when he turns his head a little to leave kisses along your leg. You may think his resolve is much better than yours, but the way he grips your legs and hips tells you otherwise. 

“‘Miss my baby,” He murmurs against you, almost babbling to his own when he has his eyes closed—a result of being pussydrunk. To feel the delicious grip of his wife around him after months of being away, almost acting like a celibate when in reality, he prefers to have you than just his own hands, but a man’s gotta make do —he’s taken care of himself countless times while he was in deployment, imagining your hands in place of his; delicately kissing and licking up and down his thick cock while being forced to maintain eye contact, just how he likes it because he knows it has you soaked, "M'pretty lil' baby."

His animalistic pace has your eyes rolling, saliva dripping down the side of your lips, toes curling—just how he likes it. Oh, how he’s dreamt of this the whole time he was away.

But if you think you’re done, oh, sweetheart, you are in for a night. 

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

#— reve's reverie 🌹 #— reve's asks 🌹 #eyes locked hands locked series #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x you #phillip graves x f!reader #phillip graves #graves x you #graves x reader #graves x f!reader #commander graves x reader #commander graves x you #cod graves #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #cod mwiii #cod mwii #cod mw #cod mw2

[grimesgirll]

it’s rare that rick is home with you in the middle of the day. 

typically, the group leader was off on a run, an errand, or dealing with the duties that came with being constable. but not today! today he was home. you’d even woken up to him beside you, a rarity.

you’d woken up with his taut arms wrapped around you and a nose nuzzled into your neck. the urge to stay overwhelms you but you’ve got to put together some breakfast. you’re slipping out of bed when you feel two arms drawing you back.

“where are you goin’? i thought we were sleeping in today.”

“you never sleep in.” you reminded him.

“except for’ today.” he exhaled into your hair, reaching a hand up to play with one of your french braids. “morning, silly girl,” he greeted, traveling his hand up to cup one of your breasts.

you gasped, breathing deeply as he increases the pressure. “doesn’t seem like you wanna sleep.”

“nope.” the sheriff answered, popping the p. 

god, you wished he could be home every morning to have you squirming. he plunged a sticky finger into you. “another one, please.”

“since you asked so nicely.”

you shuddered at the second addition. grinding back against him, he continued his peace signed shape ministration inside of you. 

“and since you’re gripping me so tight, why not another one?”

“ah!”

“that’s it.”

“mhmmm,” you droned into the pillow.

“feelin’ okay, silly girl?”

“so good, daddy!”

 you didn’t have to see his smirk. you just feel the absence of his fingers. your hips shift in anticipation.

“want me to fuck you nice and dumb on my cock early this morning, baby?” rick questioned with a cocky, sleepy grin. “want me to stuff you, silly girl?” 

your head was bobbing yes immediately and that’s all he needed to pull down his boxers and drive right into you. 

it doesn’t matter if you had a degree in molecular biology or rocket science before all this, you’re still rick’s silly girl. 

his lovely little housewife - the one waiting at home to get fucked to the moon and back on his cock. the same cock that had made your eyes widen when you first saw it. 

you’d never mention it to rick but shane had to really be something for lori fuck everything up with rick over him. yeah, lori thought rick was dead but everything afterwards? you would’ve been head over heels overjoyed to see your man again. 

that’s how you’d felt every time rick came back from a risky run. it was scary to imagine a time when he may not come home. you chose to put it out of your mind and enjoy the organ restructuring dick inside of you.

its owner couldn’t hold himself back from slamming into you on your side. there was never anything more relaxing for rick than being balls deep inside of you - well, maybe being down your throat. 

“my silly girl,” he breathed into your hair. 

it took you two a while to make it to the kitchen. it took even longer to make breakfast after you learned that carl had taken judith over to eugene’s to look into a telescope. 

with the house empty, rick gets to devote an hour to his favorite past time: fucking you against the counter. 

you and rick had stumbled downstairs in your pajamas but they’re scattered on the floor now. you lovers are too enthralled in grinding your bodies as close to each other as possible. rick is on a mission to shove his massive cock as deep inside of your tight cunt as possible. of course, it’s tight fit and a delicate dance of not blowing out your cervix.

the early shocks of your fourth orgasm of the day - second against the counter - make themselves known in a way you can’t ignore.

“you’re hitting all the right spots, rick,” you croon, gazing back at him all fucked out.

you feel him twitch inside of you. he can’t help but lose his mind seeing you so needy beneath him at this time of day. god, he needs to be home more.

“anything for you, pretty girl. you like this?” he lays a firm two fingers on top of your clit.

“mhmmm,” you confirm with a nod. 

your leader takes your murmurings as a go ahead to adopt an intense rhythm; his shaft delivering rapid fire contact with your spongy feel good parts inside while his hand strategically cups your clit. 

his solid length saws into you without any regard for your sensitive pussy. the dull pain pairs well with the pleasure as your clit is lavished in attention and your insides feel like they’re about to come apart around the thick ridges of rick. feeling him bare inside of you equates to pure bliss. 

because just like your cookie dough, you like it raw. 

“can’t wait!” you strain.

ugh, he’s gonna have you exploding again. you’re going to be blacking out for a split second and going soft brained. rick doesn’t need to pound into you to send you to a cloud higher than nine. it’s like you’re not even in the room - not even on earth.

last time rick had fucked one of those mind numbing, leg shaking orgasms out of you. he didn’t even stop for the smoke detector or the smell of torched green beans. he’d seared kisses up your neck from behind and without the will to hold out, he’d snuck you away from your task at hand - a green bean casserole - and instead fucked you silly next to the shoe rack.

he only broke the habit of fucking you through the smoke detector when carol told him off and he realized it was a waste of food. 

you’d both been embarrassed at carol walking into the kitchen to rescue your burnt casserole and discover you and rick disheveled coming out of the mud room. 

after a long day of bullshit, rick wants nothing more than to come home to the beautiful home you’ve made for them. to spend quality time in the home and spend himself in you; always earning a couple of releases from you in the process. 

“can’t wait!” you whimper.

“so you want two?”

you nod. you love when rick gives you back to back pleasure. he’s like the best at it. that is when daryl’s not bullying his way between your legs. 

speak of the devil, daryl’s trudging into the kitchen. figures. you and rick must’ve been so into it that you didn’t hear the mud room door. actually, that’s a lie. rick probably heard the door and just banked on you being too wrapped up in cumming around him like you are now to notice.

the archer is treated to the perfect display of your pulsing pussy as you gush all over the counter. he whistles as some of your slick dribbles down the cabinet drawers. 

“shouldn’t have expected anything else on rick’s day off.” he quips.

the brunette sex god playing chicken with your cervix just snorts, not stopping or slowing down the convergence of his hips and yours for anything. “shouldn’t be draggin’ mud through here.” he advises through gritted teeth.

“daryl,” you pant, overwhelmed by both the aftershocks of your climax and the prospect of mud on your floors.

“sorry, wasn’t very nice and clean in norfolk. but hey, we came here and back with fuel and MREs all before noon, so i wouldn’t be too disappointed.”

“i’m gonna make her cum four times before noon.” rick declares, hammering more frantically into you. 

“rick, slow down,” you pant again. 

“you good, honey?” rick checks in, stilling his thrusts to wait for your reply.

“rosita’s class really took it out of me yesterday. all the muscles are sore,” you complain, eyes watering a bit from your orgasm and the mild throbbing pain in your tightened muscles. 

“poor baby’s feelin’ sore?”

daryl confirms with a nod. “she’s not breathing and stretching like you should when she’s lifting.”

rick gives you a disappointed look. “maybe you’ll take a break from your weight lifting classes. huh, honey?”

you groan and pout.

“then you two need to help me practice kegels.”

“we’ll start now,” the sheriff instructs you. his hands couldn’t be cemented further into the curves of your hips. 

with daryl watching from across the counter, you do your best to remember the motions of a kegel. you squeeze. it feels like you’re doing so randomly but rick is bucking his hips again. as long as he’s not correcting you, it’s good enough. not like he’ll last long anyways. 

you’re irresistible to him, all hot and bleary eyed. 

like the time he fucked you up against a hedge at the community picnic. you two were tucked away in the woods of course but that didn’t make it any less naughty when you sauntered back up the hill and to your picnic blanket with cum inside of you. 

you look just like you did then. hair coming undone from your bedtime braids, tears threatening to fall on the countertop, and your pussy holding on tight and not letting him go. 

you expect to be empty once you’re done spasming around the thick rod inside of you and rick had filled you up completely. the breath is knocked out of your lungs when feel another cock take his place.

“daryl!”

“i know that you can take one more, baby. you love being stuffed one after another.”

“that she does,” rick corroborates.

the constable is in your view so now you can relish in the sight of him finding his clothes while daryl tries to do you in once and for good.

“fuck, dare’!” you wince as he pile drives into you from behind.

“sorry, baby,” he apologizes into the crook of your neck, lowering down and crushing you further into the counter. “just missed you out there. i never find anything as perfect as you.”

“mhmmm,” you babble and squeak in time with his thrusts.

“you really needed the pounding today? huh, hon’?” 

you nod your head the best you can for rick.

“almost there, fucking pretty little bitch.”

daryl feels your reaction on his cock as you shudder around him.

“you like being called a pretty little bitch?”

“maybe,” you stutter.

the auburn haired man fucking rick’s cum into you chuckles. “yeah, i feel how much you like it grippin’ me up so tight.”

“her pussy’s got a killer grip.” rick agreed.

“you ‘bout ready to cum all over this cock? you wanna cum? pretty little thing.” daryl huffs with each thrust.

“yes!” you cry out, tensing around his cock. “please, dare’!”

“silly girl’s gonna make a mess of your cock,” observes the peanut gallery.

“whenever you’re ready, pretty girl,” daryl whispers in your ear.

truth be told, just the heat from his breath on your air had your overworked cunt going off like a sparkler around him.

“daryl, daryl, daryl!” you chant.

the panic in your voice is that of someone falling off a cliff but you’re just nosediving into your orgasm with your boyfriend spearing you on his cock.

the shuddering turns into small aftershocks and your legs eventually still as you bask in the post-orgasmic bliss you’re experiencing of the fifth time today. rick gives you a condescending smirk when he realizes the exact moment daryl’s cum trickles into you. you can’t hide how satisfied you are being so warm and full.

the man withdrawing from your spent pussy points to rick’s snack.

“what’s that?” daryl inquires, referring to the jerky rick is chowing on.

“oh, that’s the jerky i made!” you chirp, peeling yourself off of the countertop. “i’m getting pretty good at jerky. wanna try some? carol’s teaching me how.”

“why not?”

you pull a piece from the ziplock bag that rick holds out for you and gingerly pop it into daryl’s mouth. 

“what do you think?”

he shrugs. “i’d share it with dog - not entirely though.”

you slap his shoulder playfully. “i’m still a beginner. it’ll get better.”

“i think it’s great, sweetheart.” rick compliments, manhandling you to his side of the counter and help you step into your newly discovered sleep shorts.

then you’re being pulled into his lap despite your protests. “rick! i have to make breakfast!” you already had explained to them countless times before why you couldn’t cook topless.

rick and daryl share a look and a snicker before rick is locking you in his seated embrace and daryl is grabbing a carton of eggs from the fridge.

“i got it, princess,” daryl hums. “you just take care of rick.”

“i wanted to make breakfast for you on your day off!” you complain, giving rick another pout.

he shakes his head at you. “you know where i want you on my day off, hon’? right here.” to solidify the point, he drags you down onto him, clutching a breast and attacking your neck with his lips.

“already?” you’re asking, punctuating the question with a ragged breath.

“oh, i can go all day today, sweetheart.”

#the walking dead #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes #rickyl x reader #rickyl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon #rick x reader #twd imagine #twd smut #rick grimes imagine #daryl dixon imagine #not beta read #threes0me #f/m/m #ricky dicky doo da grimes #housewife! reader #the pt 2 no one asked for #doin it in the kitchen #pretty rough #free use if you squint #grimesgirll #dumbificat!on #daryl's around #rickcentric tbh #p in v sex

[daddyfordaeddy]

Pairing: husband! Mingi x f! Reader x other man! Hongjoong (both fxm and mxm)

Word Count: 1662

Warnings: cursing, none otherwise (smut warnings under cut)

Genre: smut, fluff, rated E for explicit, established relationship au

Summary: Your second man is coming over for a night of passion, and your husband would like to attend

Smut warnings: fingering, oral (male receiving), unprotected (dont do *gun emoji), creampie, some cum play, light breast play, marking, dirty talk, degredation, masturbation, cuckolding, if i missed any lmk!

Look, i know i said time god san was the last of February Filth Fest but cuckolding just appealed to me SO MUCH AHHHH!!! especially with these two! so this is frfr my last one, track 27 - cuckolding <3 hope u enjoy!

and thank u to @sanjoongie for some inspo hehe

-

As you step out of the shower, you can hear Mingi practically stomping up the stairs two steps at a time, and you roll your eyes affectionately even though he can’t see it. He probably got home from work while you were in the middle of showering and just decided to wait around for you. You can’t tell whether it’s adorable or hilarious that he insists on greeting you being the first thing he does when he gets home. Maybe it’s both.

“Hey, baby!” Mingi pokes his head around the corner right as you tuck the towel around you. “How was your day?”

“Same old same old.” You open your arms for a hug, Mingi swooping right in, not minding your wet hair. “What are you up to?”

You get your answer as his hands trail down your body, cupping the curve of your ass. “You, hopefully?” Your husband’s voice lilts upwards but you shake your head and step away.

“Sorry, baby, Hongjoong’s coming around today. His face falls but his eyes sparkle with a question in them and you chuckle, leaning forward to brush your nose against his. “As usual, you’re welcome to watch. Or I could just send you pictures of the aftermath you’ll never get to touch.”

You can feel his hard-on pressing into your bare hip, and Mingi nods eagerly. “I’ll watch,” he decides without really deciding. Your big dumb husband who would do anything just for you. You press a sweet kiss to his cheek, patting the soft flesh afterwards.

“He’ll be here in ten. Why don’t you go get comfortable while I get ready, okay? Be good for me.”

In his haste, Mingi almost runs straight into the doorframe and you hold back your laughter as you turn back to the mirror to finish drying your hair and start applying your makeup.

-

Hongjoong’s mouth is hungry on yours as he practically swallows each breath you sigh out. His hands are wandering up and down your sides, pinching and pulling at the soft flesh of your breasts. Little whimpers are falling from your mouth but he eats them up like it’s his dinner.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mingi stiff in his desk chair, hand gripping the large bulge in his pants like a horny schoolboy watching porn for the first time. You love him, and how sweet he is, but you sometimes need something just…more. Something Hongjoong fulfils for you.

With his teeth sinking into your neck, Hongjoong draws your attention back to him. “Eyes on me, baby,” he hums, honey dripping from his mouth although his actions are not nearly as sweet. “I’ll fuck you better than he ever could. Big dick and frame, and can hardly use it, hm?”

You moan at his words, and you just know Mingi is getting harder with every sound that leaves either of your mouths. Without warning, Hongjoong shoves two fingers deep inside of your mouth, revelling in the way you had and throws your head back in pleasure. “Shit,” you moan out around his fingers as Hongjoong nips his way down your neck, taking great pleasure in marking you up in front of your watching husband.

As his mouth trails over your breasts, his other hand slips into your panties, pressing against your already-throbbing clit and you squeal at the contact. “Look at you, so needy for me,” Hongjoong growls into your soft flesh. “Mr Song really doesn’t please you enough, hm? You need me to fill the gaps when all he can do is whisper pretty words into your ears and fuck you slow and sweet.”

His voice is still like a dove’s but the words he’s hissing into you aren’t. “Please,” you beg, all feelings of shame are long gone and all you want is more, more, more. “Fuck, please give me more.”

Hongjoong giggles high-pitched, his hard-on pressing into your hip and grinding slightly into the soft fabric of your dress. He likes it best when you dress up nice just to get wrecked, and it only serves to make him harder rutting up against your evening wear. “Already begging for me, huh? Bet I could slide right into your sloppy pussy, Mingi stretching you out just fine but can’t do anything else, huh? Shall we test that theory?”

You barely even noticed how he already had your dress scrunched up on your stomach and your panties around your knees until his fingers ghosted over your core, making you whine. Hongjoong pulls out his thick cock from the tight confines of his sweats, pressing the tip into you, making you whine at the feeling of the burning hot head entering your eager hole.

You moan again and you can practically imagine the way Mingi eyes you swallowing Hongjoong’s cock with your pussy, pouting in the way that drew you to him in the first place. Any and all thoughts of your husband are soon blown straight out of your mind, however, as soon as Hongjoong bottoms out in one swift motion, filling you up so well and hitting that perfect spot inside of you.

Your whines rise in pitch as he immediately starts jackhammering into you, his fingers moving nonstop on your breasts, kneading and massaging them as he mouths at your nipples. “Fuck, Joong,” his name falls from your lips easily, “you’re so good for me.”

You can’t seem to stop singing his praises, and Hongjoong chuckles, eyes trained in on your face as he bites marks into your neck with wild abandon. He laves his tongue over each bruise blooming over your skin, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as his hips create a rhythm. If you focus, you can barely hear Mingi stroking his cock over the slick sounds of your cunt sucking Hongjoong deeper and deeper into you.

Your hands scrabble to find purchase as one of Hongjoong’s hands wanders down to rub at your clit, pinching and pulling at the sensitive bud. “Ah–” You don’t even think you’re making any sort of discernable sound but it hardly seems to matter when Hongjoong’s fucking you so well.

“Mingi.” Hongjoong’s sharp voice cuts through the haze filling your mind, and you turn to see Mingi’s wide eyes staring at Hongjoong like he holds some type of power over the taller man. “Do you want to come closer?”

Mingi nods frantically without inhibitions, desperate for anything. “Come here, baby,” you call for him, voice wrecked just from how well Hongjoong made you feel. “No touching, okay?”

Hongjoong has slowed to careful, precise thrusts as he pulls Mingi closer by the belt loops of his jeans. The difference between your calm demeanour and Hongjoong’s harsh attitude towards your husband only serves to make his cock somehow redder and harder. As he looks up at your husband, Hongjoong’s lips pull into a killer smirk. “Should I teach you how to use your big, dumb cock? But we all know it’ll still never be enough for your wife.”

Mingi’s dick jumps at Hongjoong’s words and he whines low in his throat. It’s confirmation enough for Hongjoong, who leans down to take just the tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the velvet head and dipping into the slit. Mingi gasps, the veins in his neck popping out as it takes all his willpower not to come right then and there.

Hongjoong’s other hand leaves your breast to fondle Mingi’s balls and he pops off with a crazed grin. “Already gonna blow so soon? This is why you can’t please (Y/N) enough. Always busting a nut early and leaving her with nothing. Why else do you think I’m here, huh? Do what your big, dumb, cock can’t. I may be smaller than you, but she surely prefers me.”

Mingi’s cock twitches again, and before he can burst, Hongjoong dips his head again, sheathing the entire length into his mouth and Mingi comes, shooting ropes upon ropes of searing cum into Hongjoong’s mouth.

Hongjoong doesn’t stop stroking Mingi until every last drop is milked, and then he dips his head and lets the come dribble out onto your pussy, his cock pushing Mingi’s cum into your pulsing cunt. “See, there you go, Mingi,” Hongjoong says, his tone so condescending but it only serves to make your brain even fuzzier, “it’s your come, but I’ll do all the work for you. Since you clearly can’t do it yourself.”

You grab at Hongjoong’s hand, whining loudly, and he looks at you in surprise. “More,” you whine, the only thing on your mind is your release.

With a knowing look, Hongjoong says nothing and returns to pounding you into the mattress, your high getting closer and closer until it finally breaks and crashes over you like wave after wave. “Fuck,” you cry out, head thrown back as your legs shake and your cunt flutters around Hongjoong’s cock. It seems to be the only word you can pronounce, repeating it over and over until you can feel your mind clearing up. Your body feels so heavy on the mattress and you feel like you could just sink into it.

Warm hands roam their way up your torso to your face, and Hongjoong’s face pokes into your line of vision as he peppers kisses on your cheeks. “Good?” he asks, and you nod hazily.

“Good.”

You reach out your arms, and as usual, both Hongjoong and Mingi fall into them, wrapping their bodies around you. “I still gotta clean you up, you know,” Hongjoong hums but you whine and just pull them closer.

“Not yet. I wanna lie down.”

Mingi chuckles into your ear. “You’ve been lying down since we started, baby. You’re such a pillow princess.”

You make a face at him. “Brave words from someone who came from someone kissing their dick. Now shut up and give me a kiss.”

With another laugh, both your men acquiesce and your heart fills with warmth.

-

@cultofdionysusnet

#cultofdionysusnet #kvanity #pirateeznet #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez mingi #ateez hongjoong #mingi fanfiction #mingi fanfic #mingi x reader #mingi smut #hongjoong fanfiction #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #joongfryefff24 #smut

[kl4us4]

'broken nose' kind of protective (eddie munson x f!reader)

eddie loves his uncle - he's almost a father to him. he just hates when he brings his rowdy, disrespectful friends to the trailer park.

masterlist

warnings: smoking, drinking, inappropriate middle aged men who make you want to throw up.

You can’t help but watch Eddie as he brings the cigarette to his lips, his other hand expertly lighting it. He inhales fiercely, eyes shutting as the smoke hits his throat and the nicotine hits his system. When he lets out a long breath, he opens his brown eyes and stares at the fire burning in the distance. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t pinpoint, something distant and concerning.

“Eddie,” you call out to him, reaching your hand over to his knee, “how are you feeling, baby?”

He pulls a smile from his raging thoughts, glancing over at you sweetly. “I’m good, sweetheart,” he sighs tenderly, “tired.”

You reach for the cigarette in his fingers, taking a small drag of it. “Are you sure?” You ask genuinely, gazing up at him, “You’ve felt kinda… I don’t know - distant tonight.”

When Eddie looks down at you, he can’t help but almost become lost in your wide, fond eyes. It’s almost then and there that he divulges everything running through his head.

“Yeah, well,” he tears away from your watchful gaze, “I hate my Uncles friends.”

“I know,” you mumble, resting your head upon his shoulder, “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

Every now and again, Eddie’s Uncle would get time off from work and he’d invite all his night-shift buddies over to the park for drinks and music. Its not that they were assholes or ever rude to you and Eddie - it’s just that they like to get Wayne blind drunk, stumbling over his words and over his feet type of drunk. It was always weird seeing your parents or older family getting drunk. Eddie hated it. But he admired his Uncle too much to say anything to him. So he just sat by the fire, smoking, waiting for his Uncle to call it quits so he could help him into bed.

“It’s okay,” Eddie turns to you, a small smile present on his mouth, “at least I’ve got you to hold Wayne’s hair back when he throws up in the garden again.”

“Your uncles practically bald!” You shove his shoulder playfully.

Eddie hums out a laugh, “Alright, maybe I’ll drink some more and you can hold mine back instead.”

“Hm,” you scrunch your nose up, “I’d rather you hold my hair back - while we do something else.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s eyes flick to yours and he smirks, bringing the cigarette to his lips and huffing smoke out into the air, “Tell me more about that.”

In the distance, you hear someone let out a drunken exclamation before the sound of glass shattering echoes through the trailer park. “Shit!” You flinch, gasping in a harsh breath.

Eddie tenses underneath you and bites his lip. “For Christs Sake!” He screeches suddenly, rising to his feet, fiery and angered.

“Eddie,” you call out in vain. He’s already thrown his cigarette into the fire and he’s beginning to march towards the sound, “Eddie, hold up!”

He scales the steps down the trailer's porch, heading towards the second firepit in the communal area. You trail along, eyes wide and legs struggling to keep up with his angered march. "What the hell are you doing?" Eddie lets out a sigh, seeing Jimmy cackling over a broken bottle on the floor, "There are fuckin' kids that play around here, you get that, right?"

"S-Sorry..." Jimmy slurs, hands raised to the sky, "Was a mista- accident, was an accident, Eddie."

Eddie turns to his Uncle, giving him an exasperated expression. Wayne lets out a hum, "I know, I know - they're leaving s-soon, okay?" By the way that he's slurring his words, you can tell he's gonna be tired tomorrow. Across the firepit, two other friends of Wayne's let out cackles. When you look over, one leans towards the other, muttering something. You snap back to Eddie, who raises his eyebrows at Wayne.

"You know what time it is, right?" Eddie asks, knowing the man doesn't even have a clue as to what year it is anymore, "it's 4 am."

Jimmy and Wayne share glances before bursting into laughter with one another. You wonder if they got into Eddie's stash - or if Wayne had a stash of his own. "We're teenagers again," Jimmy exclaims, slapping a hand down on Wayne's shoulder.

"Bedtime soon, grandpas?" Eddie suggests, giving the pair a convincing grin.

Jimmy lets out a huff, giving Eddie a feigned look of anger, "Grandpa? Ouch. Hurts."

"Bedtime sounds good about now," one of the other men calls out, drawing Eddies' attention. He notices how you avoid looking at them, clearly uncomfortable by their presence. He can't recognise them very well, so he knows they don't come around here much - not like Jimmy does.

"Bedtime," Wayne repeats, nodding a few times as his eyes close.

"Yeah, where we all sleeping?" The man calls out, snickering to his friend before taking a sip of his beer.

The other nudges his friend, pointing his beer in your direction, "Whichever bed she's sleeping in - that'll probably keep me awake, huh!"

You freeze. Eddie's jaw goes slack, he almost can't believe the words that just came out of this old fucks mouth. You just look at the shards of glass at your feet, hoping the light from the firepit doesn't illuminate the disgusted and shocked expression on your face. You're afraid he'll say something else to further fuel your timid embarrassment - though, you think, maybe that's exactly what he wants; to see you go quiet and shy. Eddie tenses beside you as Dave refuses to tear his eyes away. The small smile on his face is enough to make Eddie want to throw a bottle at his head.

Wayne's face contorts in disgust and he turns to look at the man, "Dave... come on, man."

Dave just scoffs, letting out a laugh, "What? No one can take a joke anymore?"

Eddie's hand clasps around your wrist and he leans his head down towards your ear. His lips brush your skin as he mumbles, "Go inside."

When you look up at him, eyes full of concern and shock, he nods his head towards the trailer with certainty. You look down before silently leaving the group, shutting the trailer door beside you. A few words are shared between the group and you see Eddie getting in Dave's face. You angle your head towards the group that's not too far from the trailer.

"If I see you around here again and you say a single word to her, I don't care how fuckin' old you are, I'll break your nose," Eddie shoves his fist against Dave's chest, "got it?"

Dave, eyes wide and a little intimidated, snaps his head towards Wayne, "You gonna let your dirtbag nephew talk to me like that?"

Wayne raises his eyebrows, his gaze flicking to eddies and then Daves, "Uh, yep - I kinda wanna see him bust your face up."

Dave shoves Eddie back by his shoulders and Jimmy, a much larger fellow than both Eddie and Dave combined, places a hand between the two. "Alright, come on, boys," he bellows out, voice - though slightly slurring - commanding Dave's respect, "Dave, go home. You've had enough."

You squint, watching as Dave throws his beer bottle onto the ground by the fire, exclaiming a few words at the Munsons before he storms away. You let out a breath, watching as Eddie gives Jimmy a nod. Jimmy wasn't a bad guy, he often took his drinking too far, but he always had the Munson's back. You saw him with Wayne often. You trusted him. That new Dave dude, you did not trust him.

Wayne begins pacing towards the trailer and you plop yourself down on the couch. He tumbles in, unsteady on his feet. When he sees you, an apologetic look appears on his face, "'M sorry, darling," he huffs, kicking his shoes off haphazardly, "I hope your night's not ruined."

"No," you shake your head frantically, "it's not!"

He just nods silently, running a hand over his face before gripping every surface he can to make it to his bedroom. He shuts the door behind him and you can only imagine he's planted in his bed, asleep already. Rising to your feet, you look outside the blinds to see Eddie. He's half bent over, a trash bag in his hands as he picks up the remnants of glass from the floor.

You smile faintly at your boyfriend, heading outside of the trailer towards him. When he hears you, he looks up for a moment, "It's cold, go back inside. I'll be done in a minute."

Leaning down, you begin picking up shards of glass, popping them into the bag. Eddie gives you a thankful smile when you place the last of it into the bag. He ties it up, tossing it into the large bin before wrapping a hand around your waist and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

After washing your hands, you plop down onto his bed with a tired sigh. He watches you, reaching out to take your shoes off for you. "You alright, sweetheart?" His concerned eyes meet yours and he drops your shoes to the floor before quickly kicking his own off. You nod. He tilts his head at you, "You don't have to nod just for me, you know that yeah?"

You smile lazily up at him, stifling a yawn, "Yes, Eddie - he was a creep. But it was entertaining hearing you threaten to break his nose."

Eddie throws his head back as he lets out a laugh, "God. You heard that?"

Grinning, you sit cross-legged and look up at him, "I did. You know... you're kinda hot when you get protective over me."

"Yeah," Eddie smirks down at you, pressing a finger to the bottom of your chin and lifting your head higher, "You've told me once or twice before, sweetheart."

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x reader fluff #Eddie munson x reader angst #Eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

[usedtobecooler]

if it's not with you | tom grant x fem!reader

Pairing | Tom Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content 18+ minors dni, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, general banter, flirting, all around fluffiness.

Word Count | 5k

A/N | eeeee i'm so excited to share this fic with you all!! honestly i've fallen in love with tom all over again writing this, i hope you all enjoy this flirty fluffy cuteness!!

This caravan park was easily the worst place you’d ever been on holiday to. You couldn’t even lie to yourself — the entertainment area was outdated, the food was far from good, the staff were mostly rude and unhelpful, and the caravan you’d rented for the week was the biggest piece of shit.

Your idea of a nice, relaxing beachside break from the city was basically down the pan the moment you arrived, though you had to admit the one saving grace was in fact the gorgeous beach, barely thirty steps away from your rental, all golden sand and crashing waves. It was peaceful, quiet — the school summer holidays were over so it only left the caravan owners and the odd few stragglers without kids behind. 

Summer was barely clinging on, the nights were beginning to close in fast and the air was feeling that bit crisper once the sun set, like it had done every Summer since you could remember. There was still the odd humid, hot day, and this was one of them. 

Muggy beyond belief, despite the cool sea breeze rolling in from the East. You were sweating, skin feeling sticky as you sunbathed in peace, laid out in a one piece on your towel. Regardless of the factor thirty, you already knew you were going to burn — you always did, no matter what. The harsh rays from the sun were unforgiving to your sensitive skin, leaving you flushed and freckled.

You feel the figure looming over you pretty quickly. The slight darkness on your left hand side as said person blocked the sun. You let out a deep sigh, using your hand as a makeshift sun visor as you open your eyes carefully, squinting up into the sun.

You spy the caravan park logo on his polo shirt immediately — site worker, clearly. He’s all curly hair, pale skinned and a goofy grin on his face as he clutches onto the magazine you’d taken with you to read, obviously blown off in a gust of wind when you’d been blissfully unaware, “Think this was trying to do a runner on you,” His voice is unexpectedly deep, though still chirpy, as he extends his arm out with the magazine rolled up in his hand.

“Thanks, mate,” You bark out a little embarrassed laugh, propping yourself up on an elbow and taking the magazine from him. Your fingers brush, and you can’t help the flush that creeps up to your cheeks at the barely-there touch, “It’s shit anyway — one of them magazines people get paid fifty quid to share their fake stories to, y’know.” 

The man snorts, shoves his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts, “I know the ones, my mums obsessed with them. Surely nobody believes the ghost stories?” He’s making conversation, not in any rush to get off, and it’s strange. He’s maybe the second worker you’d encountered who was genuinely an alright person. 

“Oh I know, in this one they’re claiming the ghost made toast in the middle of the night. Didn’t realise they could open a loaf of bread, who’d have thought it?” You humor him, and he properly laughs at that, kicking his toes in the sand as he looks down at you. 

He’s awfully pretty, you notice, as you look up at him properly now the glare of the sun has been blocked a little. Big brown eyes and a freckled nose, tinged pink from too much sun and not enough sunscreen, no doubt. Nice full lips and a cute chin, chains dangling on his neck. Very typical English boy, but that was always your type.

Your mouth runs dry, now that you’re suddenly aware of how attractive this man is and you’ve just called him mate. Ground swallow you now.

“Anyway, I’ve got to get going,” He looks sullen at that, nose scrunching up a little, “Duty calls — these old fuddy-duddies who arrive this time of year always find something to moan about.”

“Well, you enjoy that…” You blush, giggling like a dickhead, suddenly aware of the fact you’re lusting over a man who’s name you don’t even know,  “Sorry, I never got your name. No nametag?”

“Tom,” Tom digs in his pocket, a small triumphant noise escaping him when he pulls the old nametag out between two fingers proudly, showing you it, “I usually don’t wear it. Can’t be fucked when these arseholes complain about the staff and name us to management.” 

“Well, I’ll make sure to name you to the staff when I check out and let them know you were a very helpful young man, Tom,” Your voice drips sarcasm and humour, and you know you’ve got him hook, line and sinker when he bellows a true laugh, throwing his head back and exposing the vast expanse of his neck, veins protruding. Your thighs clench.

You’re both shook out of the little bubble when somebody starts shouting Tom’s name from behind you both, startling you. He rolls his eyes, tapping the watch on his wrist, “Gotta go, darling. You need anything just ask for me personally when you phone, yeah?” 

You nod, dumbstruck as he smiles wide at you, pearly white teeth on display. He takes off in a jog, and for the first time you truly understand the term ‘hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.’ 

You bump into him again two days later, in the laundry room as you’re banging on the washing machine that currently had four days worth of clothes and underwear locked in it. It’d swallowed your token, locked the doors then refused to start, and you were raging — three quid down the fucking drain, just like that.

He knocks up behind you unexpectedly, his hip catching on the soft flesh of your ass as he leans over to pop a token into it. You suck in a breath and hold it, watching with awestruck eyes as the tendons in his wrist flex when he turns the dial. The machine whirs to life, water beginning to fill the drum in just mere seconds.

“What’d I tell you about just shouting for me if you needed anything?” Tom’s smug, lips so close to your ear they’re almost brushing the shell and you have to literally shove down the gasp that almost makes its way up your throat. He’s so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, and a shiver ripples up your spine. 

“I didn’t expect to need maintenance help for washing my underwear,” You bristle, trying to act calm as he brushes past you and opts for leaning against the machine, hands once again buried deep into his pockets — he’s wearing grey joggers this time, clearly to match the miserable and dreary weather outside. You avert your gaze from the obvious bulge in his trousers, willing yourself to just get a fucking grip.

It doesn’t help when you lock eyes with him, and he’s all gooey brown orbs and long eyelashes. It’s embarrassing how much you fancy him, and now you feel like a right slob — down here in your leggings, hoodie and crocs of all things. Hair up in a messy bun and no makeup on, on account of the severe sunburn on your nose and cheeks.

“C’mon, we’ll go back to the token machine and I’ll get you your money back,” Tom nods towards the door, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You want to tell him you don’t need the money back, but a little part of you wonders — and hopes — that he’s offering to do this so that you have an excuse to wander off with him.

“Sure, lead the way my saviour,” You joke, extending an arm out towards the open door. He scoffs, rolling his eyes with a look that could only be described as fond on his features as he saunters past you. You feel your cheeks heat up, and it’s not from the sunburn this time.

“What’s brought you to Cornwall, then?” He asks conversationally — you’re bumping arms you’re that close, and the corridor isn’t even that narrow, he’s just naturally gravitating towards you. You plod along slowly and he matches your pace, your heart thudding in your chest as your hopes were confirmed; he was being nosey, interested in getting to know you.

“Not much, I like the beach but I live in London so I don’t get to see it much,” You admit, shoving your hands into your hoodie pocket, “I work from home, too. So I thought I’d maybe get some work done whilst I was here. The wifi is shit, by the way.”

Tom winces, shooting you an apologetic look, though it’s clearly a mockery, “Yeah, this place doesn’t have much going for it, darling. Though it’ll give you an excuse to actually enjoy your break instead of worrying about work, right?”

You’re walking so slowly you may as well be at a standstill, and you know it’s because the token machine is barely ten feet away, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” You admit, because it’s true — you’d hardly even thought about your job since you got here, enjoying your time soaking in the sun and the peace away from your roommate, “What about you? You from around here?”

“Born and raised,” Tom shrugs. You glance to the side, watching as his adams apple bobs up and down when he swallows, “I live on the site now, though, have done since I was sixteen. I’m here all year with Kai, you’ve probably seen him around, angry looking dickhead with a buzzcut. A girl called Jade used to live here too but eh, she’s gone now.”

You hum, acknowledging what he’s saying. You want to pry, the way his voice changed when he spoke about this ‘Jade’ character leaves a bitter taste in your mouth — an ex, maybe. But you were basically a stranger to Tom, so why would he explain that to you? 

The both of you stop right at the token machine, and Tom fumbles for his set of keys, flipping them until he finds one with a red tag on it. You watch his hands the entire time, thirsting silently — god, his hands were so nice. For a maintenance guy, they were clean, nails manicured, the skin soft. You could tell he took care of himself, and that made him all the more attractive to you. 

He slips the three pound coins into your hoodie pocket, knocking you out of your daze. His hand bumps against your waist when he pulls it out of said pocket, leaving you feeling flustered. There’s no way he’s just being nice, he’s flirting, albeit subtly. 

“Thank you,” Your voice is breathy, catching in the back of your throat as your eyes search for his again, though it doesn’t take long before his eyes are locking on yours once more, “Don’t know what I’d do without you. Or that three quid, actually, that’ll get me another shitty magazine from the shop and a bottle of Coke.”

Tom laughs, showing off his ridiculously perfect teeth once again, “You’re right, it will. Hopefully the ghost story in this one’s a bit better —” 

There’s a sudden harsh knock on the window behind your head that has you leaping out of your skin. He glances up to where the source of the banging came from, and he’s huffing, rolling his eyes, “Gotta go, darling. Another dickhead to deal with. Remember what I said, need anything just shout for me, yeah? Enjoy your magazine.” 

He lands a soothing hand on your shoulder just barely before he’s taking off, and your skin burns even through the thick material of your hoodie. 

There’s one day left of your holiday. One miserable day. You hadn’t seen Tom at all since your encounter in the laundry area, and you had to admit you were feeling deflated over it. You hadn’t been avoiding him, in fact quite the opposite, but your paths had just never crossed again. 

The weather was unbearably hot once more, worse than the first day you’d met Tom, not even a breeze coming in off the sea, and you were desperate for a cold shower to rinse off the sweat from your now sunkissed skin.

The caravan door slams shut behind you as you step foot inside, basking in the little bit of cool air in the living area that’d been bathed in shade the entire day. You strip off your two-piece without a second thought — your caravan doesn’t look onto any others, and you don’t see anybody around, so there was nobody to scar when you stripped naked. 

At the beginning of your holiday you didn’t believe you’d ever become accustomed to the tight living quarters, especially the bathroom, but now that you’d been at the park for a week you almost couldn’t imagine going back home to your shitty little flat in Central London. You actually enjoyed the peace and quiet, and you were saddened about leaving.

You couldn’t deny that Tom was part of that, too. Though you’d hardly gotten a chance to know him you were drawn in, and the thought of heading home the next day and never seeing him again was weighing heavy on your shoulders. 

Stepping into the tight shower, you twist the dial to turn on the water, only to be engulfed in a roaring hot heat that has you yelping and gasping. The sharp sting of the scalding hot water hitting your sunburnt chest brings tears to your eyes, your hands flapping to turn the dial back until the stream stops.

You jump out of the shower, grabbing for your fluffy towel that you’d set in the open window that morning, pulling it around your bare body and tucking it in until it’s sat nicely. The ends of your hair drip wet, the water cooling fast, an almost pleasant feeling in comparison to what you just felt.

There’s not a second thought before you’re dialing 0 on the phone in the living area and asking for a maintenance person to come look at the shower, reeling off that the water was scalding hot and had burned you. The person on the other end sounds bored, uninterested and far from shocked when you tell her what happened. You hang up and, in your anger, stick up your middle finger at the phone. 

You didn’t even think to ask for Tom. You perch your ass on the arm of the U-shaped sofa, nervously chewing on your bottom lip and shaking your leg as you wait, wondering who it’d be that showed up to your call. You really, really hoped it’d be him.

Not even five minutes go by before you’re hearing a rapping of knuckles on the glass pane of the door, and you answer it quickly, all street smarts going out the window as you pull the door open just clad in your towel. Tom stands on the narrow step, clutching onto a metal tool box, and you breathe out a sigh of relief that it’s him.

“Fucking hell, that burn looks sore,” Tom looks with bug eyes at your chest, taking in the look of your skin tinged a deep red, much darker than the rest of your sunburnt body. You flush, moving out of the way to let him in, “If you put in a claim for that this place would be shut down.”

He laughs about it, but visibly looks nervous. You can’t help but wonder if, as much as he complained about the job, he genuinely liked it. Or maybe it was all he knew, which was also probably true, considering he had told you he’d been here living since he was just a teenager. A pang in your chest asserts itself at that realisation.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, it’s my own stupid fault for stepping into the shower before turning it on like a silly bitch,” You shake it off, a wobbly little laugh escaping you, “Nothing a bit of lotion won’t fix, Tom.” 

“No, it’s fucking ridiculous that this even happened,” Tom grunts, stepping past you and wandering the short distance into the bathroom. You follow him like a lost puppy, clutching at the top of your towel with one hand, standing in the doorway as you watch him flip his toolbox open, grabbing for something and banging the shower door open. 

“Dunno why they still rent out this caravan every summer there’s so much shit wrong with it, told the manager it was fit for the scrap yard two years ago,” Tom’s conversational, unscrewing the shower tap and fiddling with it as if you’re not standing there basically naked and still slightly damp from your failed attempt at hosing off.

You’re trying to look anywhere but right in his direction. It’s hard, though. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his arm bulging and straining under the tight material of his polo shirt as he uses his wrench to tighten a bolt, “S’okay, I got it pretty cheap. I’m away home tomorrow, didn’t want the next poor sod to get burnt like I did.”

Tom shoots a glance at you, brows marrying for a moment until he’s turning back to the job at hand, “I didn’t realise you were away so soon, fuck sake. If I’d known I would’ve come and seen you earlier. You’re alright, y’know?” 

“Thank you?” It comes out as a question, and you can’t help but feel somewhat offended by his choice of words, “I suppose you’re alright yourself. Probably the only decent member of staff I’ve spoken to this entire week.” 

“Yeah, the nice face and banter are just a bonus, eh?” Tom flashes you his teeth again and it has you rolling your eyes, though a fond smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, “Not like those posh London boys, they’re stuffy and boring.”

“You’re right about that,” You agree, watching as he throws the wrench back into the toolbox blindly, the tool landing correctly in its place. It’s now or never, you think, as he screws the tap back on. This is it, after this last chance meeting you’re not gonna see him again. “Who’d have thought something as simple as catching a blown away magazine would have a girl weak at the knees?” 

You cringe at yourself, though Tom’s head shoots around. He looks at you with a confusion etched on his features, and you have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Surely you were being obvious enough, right?

You watch him dumbly step out of the shower, even going as far as to shut the screen door behind him, “What do you mean?” He asks, quirking a brow. Clearly you weren’t being obvious, then. 

“Is it not totally obvious that I’m into you?” You scoff, wanting to lean forward and rattle that devourable looking neck. He’s clearly so clueless, it would actually be kind of endearing if you didn’t find it so infuriating. 

Tom balks at you, taking a step closer to you, which has him almost right up in your face, with how enclosed the space of the bathroom is, “Really? I’m really shit at reading signals, sorry, love.” 

Love. You melt at the pet name, going all gooey. You take your chance, fingers tugging at your towel until it’s loosening on your body. He watches you with curious eyes that soon turn lust filled, when you let the towel drop to the floor and pool around your feet.

You blush under his intense gaze, taking in the swell of your tits, the pebble of your nipples, the curve of your hips, the mound of your cunt. He takes another step, so you’re basically toe to toe, and he exhales loudly.

“Not done this for a while,” Tom admits, as his large hands engulf your waist, pulling you closer to him until your naked body is flush against him, the soft material of his worn-in work polo a pleasant feeling against your skin, “Can I kiss you?” 

You nod, far too fast, too eager, but he clearly doesn’t seem to mind, leaning in until his plump lips are capturing yours. You melt into it, arms wrapping around his neck to tug him in closer, fingers burying in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Tom deepens the kiss quickly, tongue running over your bottom lip and you open up willingly, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. His own tongue glides along yours deliciously, has your pussy clenching and your legs shaking. He moves you blindly backwards, like he knows the entire layout of this caravan — which he probably does, has probably been here many a time.

The backs of your legs hit the bed and you let yourself fall backward, opening your legs for Tom to nudge between them, one hand still on your waist tightly, other slipping down your leg, fingertips digging into the meat of your thigh. You shiver, unable to contain it, the feeling of the hands you’d thought about so much the last week finally on you was almost enough to drive you crazy.

Tom’s hand skates higher and higher up your thigh, until he’s cupping the heat of your cunt. He’s the one to break the kiss, pulling away from you to look you in the eyes properly, like he’s looking for confirmation that you’re still good and you’re okay to keep going, “You okay if I touch you?” 

You melt. You nod, and he dives in, kissing the side of your neck with spit-slick lips, leaving you gasping and writhing below him. He bumps his hips down into you, and you feel the outline of his hard cock brushing against your inner thigh.

Suddenly, your carnal desire for him overcomes your every being, your hands falling from the back of his neck to fist into his shirt, bunching up big handfuls of the material, “C’mon, you too?” You beg, voice whiny, completely distracted by how Tom bites and kisses at your neck, “Need to see you too.” 

He sits back on his haunches, smirking down at you, hands leaving your body and in turn leaving you cold — though it’s not for long, as you watch him pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. He dives back down into you quickly, bumping those godforsaken hips down against your pussy this time, leaving you gasping.

That stupid, shit eating grin never leaves his face until he’s burying his face back into your neck, peppering your skin with kisses, hand nudging between your legs again, until the pads of two of his fingers finally dip in between your slick folds, gathering your juices on them. He grunts against you, rutting his hips down again, “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He mumbles, caught off guard by it.

“Mmph, all for you,” You gasp, breath catching in your throat when he finds the swollen, sensitive bud of your clit and starts rubbing in small, tight circles, until your hips are pushing up into the air, “Oh God —!”

You lose yourself in the feeling of Tom lathering you in kisses, the way his plump lips ghost along the stinging, burnt skin of your chest and soothe it, his fingers working on your clit until your cunt is gushing wetter than before. He’s so sensual, passionate, taking the most attentive care to your body, and it’s driving you wild.

“You feel so good on my fingers,” Tom groans in between kisses, looking at you with those pretty, chocolate brown eyes, now mostly blackened with lust, “Can’t wait to feel you on my cock, babe.” 

You squeal, a moan punching out of you when his fingers leave your clit just barely to dip into the entrance of your pussy and glide back up, taking some of your milky wetness with them. You clench, quivering at his words, a deep heat blooming in the pit of your belly, alarmingly fast, “I’m so close,” You admit, losing yourself in the pleasure of Tom’s fingers catching on your clit, winding you up tight, tight, tight.

Tom kisses the swell of your breast, lips dragging down until they latch onto your nipple, licking and sucking until you’re crying out. He can’t take his eyes off of you, watching every contortion of your face as he makes you fall apart. Your fingers grip into his curls, tugging lightly until he’s groaning, vibrations echoing up your chest.

His fingers work at that same torturing pace, sliding in circles until you’re arching off the bed slightly, coil in your tummy snapping, your entire body tensing and going lax just as fast as your orgasm washes over you, a gush of slick slipping from your hole as you shake through it.

Tom works you through it until you’re jerking away, fingers unwinding from his hair and pushing at his shoulders instead. He presses a light kiss to your nipple, pulling himself up and slipping his fingers from your cunt, “Was that okay?” He asks, though he’s smiling, proud of himself, clearly.

You nod, catching sight of the prominent bulge in his grey joggers, sudden desperation to get to his cock overtaking you — you lean up, tugging at the waistband of the offending material until it’s bunched around his thighs, uncut cock springing out proudly, you gasp, “No underwear? You always wander around like this, you slag?”

Tom laughs, shaking his head, “No, I wasn’t on shift but took the call because I knew this was your caravan,” He admits, and you giggle, a little swell of pride in your chest. That little admission was enough for you, he did like you as much as you liked him. 

He dives back into you, capturing your lips with his own, and you take that opportunity to get a feel for his cock, deft fingers blindly wrapping around the length and giving him an experimental tug, pulling the foreskin back. He gasps into your mouth as you work him up and down, your thumb swiping over the tip, and he’s punching his hips into your hand.

“Keep doing that an’ I’m gonna cum before I get to fuck you,” He mumbles against your mouth, nibbling at your bottom lip just a little. You take that as your cue to stop, hand dropping from his cock and instead wrapping around his bicep.

He makes a show of it, like an arsehole, grabbing a hold of his cock and sliding the tip through the mess of your cunt, catching on your clit and gliding it back down, until you’re gasping and silently begging for it, digging your nails into the meat of his tanned arms.

“C’mon, Tom. Please?” You whisper, looking up at him with pleading eyes, and he takes the bait — he slips his cock into you in one fluid motion, until his balls are flush against your ass. You couldn’t have been prepared for the sheer thickness of him stretching you from the inside out, a gasp escaping you when the head of his cock brushes along your frontal wall.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Tom moans, burying his head into the other side of your neck this time, kissing and biting at your flesh until it’s raised. He pulls out, slamming back into you to the hilt, and you clench around him, unable to help it, the curved head of his cock brushing against the spongey part of your cunt perfectly, “God, babe, don’t do that, I’ll cum so quick.”

You moan, clenching around him again until he’s groaning, fucking in and out of you properly, your cunt sucking him in, gushing around his length. You’re overwhelmed by the feeling of him all over you, his lips and teeth on your neck, his hair tickling your face, his toned torso crushing down into yours, his cock sliding in and out of the tight heat of your pussy.

“You feel so good around me, fuck,” Tom’s mumbling against you, words almost getting lost in your skin, but you’re fucking melting for it, the praises having you keening up into him.

You feel your orgasm building quickly, unaware of how loud you’re moaning until Tom’s picking up the pace of his thrusts, the slap of his hips against your ass echoing in the room, the wet schlick of your pussy mixing with the other sinful noises. 

“M’gonna cum,” You cry, tears pricking at your eyes as your tummy blooms with heat once again, orgasm building a lot quicker this time than the last time, and Tom pulls himself away from the crevice of your neck, looking at you with his lust blown eyes, swollen red lips open in a constant moan, “Fuck, Tom, s’good, so good,”

You’re babbling and Tom groans, fucking you so rough you’re sliding up the bed — your high hits you so hard you see stars, eyes squeezing shut as your cunt flutters and gushes around the girth of Tom’s cock, fingernails biting into his arms so hard that you know you’re going to leave behind broken skin.

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” Tom’s voice goes high pitched, eyes rolling into his skull as your pussy grips him like a vice, and he’s coming too, hips stuttering as he paints your walls in his release, cock pulsing in the tight heat of your cunt.

You mewl, spent body giving into everything. You feel like you’re floating, unable to comprehend what just happened. Tom’s looking down at you with this big dopey grin and you smile back, leaning up to kiss him languidly as his spent cock goes soft.

Tom slips out of you with a hiss, collapsing down next to you, chest still heaving on breath, “You sure you’ve gotta go home tomorrow, darling?” He asks, voice quiet as he tugs you into him, those big arms engulfing you in a tight cuddle. Your whole body melts into his, your mind blank of anything but him. Maybe you didn’t have to go home just yet. 

“I suppose I could see about hanging around for another week… or two,” You admit, and Tom cackles in triumph, squeezing you tighter until you’re giggling into his chest, heart swelling.

#tom grant smut #tom grant x reader #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #my fanfic #mine #my writing #x reader #not this being the longest fic i've ever published stoppppp

[thatharringrovehoe]

I love 'stuck in a time loop' fics where the characters slowly fall in love with each other. But right now I'm thinking of Steve rushing downstairs wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and his left sock while someone pounds on his front door in the middle of the night. When he opens it, there stands none other than Billy Hargrove, sweaty and exhausted.

And carrying an axe.

Steve tries to close the door but Billy's already jammed his boot up against it, holding it open. Billy's voice is a croak in the otherwise eerily silent night.

"The first pet you ever had was a cat named Sampson. You found him in the alley behind Melvald's and hid him in your room for six weeks before your mom found out and gave him away while you were at school. You were eight."

Steve is sure there's smoke billowing out of his ears from how hard the gears are turning in his brain. But try as he might, he has absolutely zero fucking clue what to do with this information. Somewhere in the house an antique clock strikes midnight.

Billy flinches, grip creaking around the axe propped up on his shoulder.

Steve chooses his next words very carefully.

"While I'm really glad you and Tommy are swapping childhood stories about me, it's getting late-"

"-And you have a shift in the morning. Yeah. I know. I also know that in the past one hundred and fifteen days you've never once even made it till morning. So I'm here to keep you from becoming monster chow and then maybe my fucking life can go back to normal"

Billy's shouting by the end. Steve's heart thunders in his chest.

you've never once even made it till morning

monster chow

The image of a demon falling out of the Byer's ceiling in a cloud of plaster and rot bubbles up with a growing panic. Billy's tapping his fingers anxiously around the handle of his axe, eyes darting to the side every now and again like he expects something to be there. Steve swallows down a hysterical laugh with the thought that the best case scenario right now is Hargrove took some type of hallucinogenic drug and drove to Steve's house in the middle of the night with a weapon.

The worst case scenario...

An owl hoots in the darkness and Steve feels like he might vomit with the surge of adrenaline. A stray breeze rustles the branches of the forest around them.

What if it's a prank?

God please let it be a prank

"All my friends knew about Sampson. Hell, the lunch lady knew about him."

Billy's jaw tics. "Look, I'm trying to keep us both alive so would you just shut up and let me in? The last place I wanna die is bumfuck Indiana."

He moves to shoulder past but Steve doesn't let him through. From this close Steve could count all the freckles on Billy's nose, air tense as a piano wire. Billy stares back, gaze wild.

Desperate

And one hundred days is a long time to get to know a person.

"I'll let you in. But-!" Steve's hand shoots up to press back against Billy's chest as he attempts to shove past him. His heart beats like a hummingbird under Steve's palm. "You have to make me believe you."

Billy breathes a harsh sigh through his nose, leveling a glare at Steve. The axe thankfully does not lodge itself into any part of Steve's person. For now.

"What do you want from me Steve?"

A coyote howls in the distance. Guttural and wrong. Chills erupt down Steve's spine.

"Tell me something I've never told anyone. Something only I would know."

An expression Steve can't parse flashes across Billy's face. Whatever it is it looks painful. Sad, but not for himself. There's more rustling out in the woods. This time without a breeze.

"You're adopted"

It's like a punch to the sternum.

Steve lets him in.

.

#The seasonal depression is lifting lads #so be prepared for alot more of my nonsense #harringrove #time-loop AU #steve harrington #billy hargrove #stranger things #that hoe writes #discord blurb

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 0.3

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which both you and anakin begin packing, but for two different reasons, and in an attempt to reassure you, he comes home with something that will surely get his point across.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4.3k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | HAPPY HALLOWEEN

“This is so fucking sad,” Anakin mutters as he shoves the few shirts he took out of his bag back into it. “We didn’t even get to unpack our clothes yet.”

You nod as you drop your sweatpants into your suitcase that was open on the bed. “I know,” you agreed. “I feel like we’re moving out again, even though we’ll only be gone for a few months. This place already feels like home, I’m going to miss it.”

Anakin nods and drops his bag onto the floor before moving to stand behind you. “It feels like home because it is our home, pretty girl,” he murmurs, kissing your neck as you begin to fold a pair of jeans. “And it’ll still be here in three months. The lease doesn’t expire until we want to move again.”

“I don’t want to move again,” you tell him, placing your hand on his arm when he wraps it around your middle. “At least not for a while. I need a sense of normalcy after all this is over.”

He hums, nudging your jaw with the tip of his nose. “I get that, believe me,” he says. “Just last year I was uploading our first single onto my old Youtube account, now I’m being asked to extend our first tour. I feel like I haven’t had a chance to take it all in yet.”

You smile at him, zipping up your suitcase before turning around in his arms. “You’ve got the rest of your life to do that,” you tease, leaning up to kiss him quickly. “Try to live in the moment, Ani. The rest of the world will catch up to you eventually.”

Anakin gives you a grateful look, his lips turning upwards in a grin that takes you back to yours and his high school days. He looks so at peace right now, so young and carefree, it makes you miss the way things used to be, if only for a split second. You wouldn’t change a thing about the last five years. “What am I going to do without you? I know it’s not forever, it’s not even for half a year, but three months is too long without you.”

You wrap your arms around his middle. “I know,” you mumble. “But I’m going to come visit you. I refuse to miss all of your shows, I need to see at least a few.” 

Anakin groaned quietly, leaning down to press a hard kiss to your lips. “How is it possible that I already miss you? You’re in my arms yet I still miss you,”

You shrug, tracing your finger over his sleeve of tattoos and pausing on your initial. “Maybe your body is already preparing itself,” you offer. “I hope you get some good sleep on this tour. I know you had a hard time doing it last time.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, moving around you so he can sit down on the bed next to your suitcase. His hands pull on your waist and you stand in between his thighs, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I’ll be sleeping alone this time around while you’re off doing London things. I’ll be lucky to get more than four hours of sleep throughout the next three months.”

You roll your eyes and kiss him again, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth. “You’ll just have to learn how to live without me,”

Anakin glared at you, his hands tightening their grip on your waist. “Like fuck I will,”

Laughing, you quickly kiss his cheek before pulling away from him. Anakin reluctantly lets you go, his arms falling back to his sides as you begin to sort through what books you wanted to take with you. 

Anakin watches you with a weary look on his face. It was clear that you were nervous about going to London on your own, and he knew you were worried about your relationship. While you are both fully aware that you two were it for each other, this was still a big step. 

Nearly five years in and you hadn’t spent more than a week away from one another, so to spend multiple was a big change. It was obvious that you were feeling anxious about it all, and Anakin wanted to assure you that everything will be fine. He wanted to ensure you were aware that you will be the one constant on his mind during the whole time he is away from you. 

A half an hour goes by and Anakin is once again asked to come to the studio. He is sitting at the desk beside Vinny as Theo goes over a new beat he made up on his bass in the soundbooth. “Hey,” he asked his friend and drummer, leaning over so he didn’t have to talk very loud. “You free for a few hours after this?”

Vinny leans over as well, glancing at Helena before meeting Anakin’s eyes. “Yeah, I should be,” he answers. “What’s up?”

“Y/n’s stressing out about leaving for her program, though she won’t admit it,” Anakin says. “I want to assure her somehow. Are you down to sit through a tattoo session with me?”

“Always, man,” Vinny reaches over and bumps Anakin’s fist with his own. “Count me in.”

Anakin gives his friend a grateful smile before turning back to watch Theo. 

After successfully recording the beat for a possible future song, Helena sits the three guys down and excitedly announces that she’s come up with a way to get some good promo out to the fans. “We’re going to hire a tour photographer,” she informs them, a big grin on her glossy lips. “We need some HD pictures of you all in action, and this is a great way to get you guys out there.”

Vinny sits up in his chair, glancing over at Anakin and Theo. “That’s actually not a bad idea,”

Anakin nods in agreement, as does Theo. 

“Great, I knew you’d all agree,” Helena says and hands them each a piece of paper. “I want you to go through potential options together. Look them up on their social media, get a feel for how they portray their artists, then pick which one you think would capture you the best.”

“Sounds like homework,” Theo mumbled as he read the long list of names. Anakin and Vinny laugh as they, too, go over the list.

“No, your homework is to put out another hit single,” Helena says and the three straighten up pretty quickly after that. “Aha, not so funny when it’s your asses on the line, is it?” 

“Sorry,” Anakin says for him and his bandmates. “Thanks, Helena.”

“Uh huh,” she smiles. “Get to work, boys.”

-

“So, what will it be this time, superstar?” Brock, Anakin’s long time tattoo artist asks when he saw him and Vinny enter the shop. “You finally gonna let me tattoo a snake on you?”

“No,” Anakin shakes his head with a grin, holding out a birthday card you had given him last year. “I was thinking something more tame.”

Brock nods as Anakin pointed at the writing on the bottom of the card. “Ah,” he hums. “I like it. Have a seat.”

A few minutes later, the tattoo is printed out and the trace is pressed against Anakin’s skin. Vinny stands off to the side as Brock begins poking Anakin’s left wrist with the tattoo gun, his eyes narrowing at how calm he is when he is literally being poked with a multitude of needles. “You sure have a lot of those,” he gestures to his sleeve. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“No,” Anakin answers, leaning back in the chair. “Almost feels like a massage.”

“Yeah, right,” Vinny rolled his eyes, looking at the wall of possible tattoo options. “You’re full of it.”

Anakin laughs as he looks down to watch Brock work on the neat handwriting. “You’re lucky your girl doesn’t have shitty writing, man,” Brock pointed out as he continued working. 

“I don’t think she ever did. I remember her taking notes in high school and she had good handwriting back then, too. It’s only gotten better,” he mumbles. Even if you had the worst handwriting in the world, Anakin still would’ve gotten it tattooed on him, like he is now. “A lot better than mine, anyway.”

“Fuck, mine too,” Brock muttered, wiping at Anakin’s wrist before going back in with the needle. “Chicks just have nicer writing, I guess.”

“Don’t think that’s true,” Vinny adds as he flips through a tattoo book. “Clara’s got the worst handwriting I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Anakin laughs again as he looks up at his friend. “How is she doing, anyway? Upset you’re going on tour again so soon?”

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something,” Vinny says as he sets the book down and leans against the shelf. “I already talked to Theo about it, now I want to run it by you.”

“Sure, man,” Anakin refrains from sitting up straight and possibly making Brock mess up the tattoo. “What’s up?” 

“I know it was your bed last time, and I really am sad to hear that Y/n can’t come with us again, but I was thinking of bringing Clara with us? And she and I can get the big bed?” Vinny asked with a hint of nervousness lacing his usual cool tone. 

Anakin hadn’t even thought about that. There was no point in him needing the double bed this time around since he wouldn’t be sharing it with you, and now he was almost positive that he would not be getting very good sleep at all this time around, especially since he would be sleeping without you next to him.

Something about sleeping in the bunk under Theo’s or the one above his was not appealing at all, but he supposed he would deal with it. “Yeah, of course,” Anakin answered. “All yours, dude.”

Vinny grinned at him and bumped his fist against Anakin’s. “Thanks, man,” he says. “How are you doing with the whole ‘moving to London’ thing? You and Y/n are practically attached at the hip.” 

Anakin looked away and shrugged, eyeing the way Brody traced your pretty writing. “It’ll be hard,” he replied, trying to come off as unbothered, but he knew he would be missing you like crazy in a week. “But we’ll be fine. It’ll be five years together in a few weeks, we can go a few months without seeing each other every day.”

He hoped he sounded convincing, because even he wasn’t entirely assured. “Yeah, of course,” Vinny agreed, going back to flipping the pages of the tattoo book. “If anyone can do this it’s you two. I was talking to Helena earlier, and guess where our first location is?”

“Where?” Anakin asked as he looked at Vinny’s back.

Vinny turned around and smirked. “London,” 

-

“Y/n?” Anakin called out as soon as he got back from the tattoo shop. He had phoned Helena on the way home and confirmed that London indeed is their first tour stop, and that you could possibly go with him. “Baby?”

Your sweet voice called back, “In the kitchen, Ani,” and he was making his way down the hall without a second thought. 

When he entered the kitchen, he found you with your elbows pressed against the top of the island counter as your fingers picked at a muffin. He grinned at you before he pressed a kiss to your crumb coated lips, making you smile into it and pull away after a few seconds. 

“Good day?” You ask as your eyes trace over every inch of his face and your lips match his small smile. 

“Great day,” he corrected as he moved to stand behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle. 

You lean back against him and lift the muffin up to his mouth, not caring about the hundreds of crumbs that fell into your shirt when he bit into it. “That’s good to hear,” you leaned in and kissed his jaw as he chewed. “What happened that made it a great day?”

Anakin ran his nose along your cheekbone and pulled you a bit tighter against him. “I woke up next to you,” he answered and smirked when you just rolled your eyes as you set the half eaten muffin onto the counter. “And I got a new tattoo.”

You perk up at that and turn around in his arms, your eyes raking over his sleeve in search of the new ink. “Where? Of what?”

Anakin laughed and placed his hands on your hips, hiding the clear bandage on his wrist for the time being. “Before I show you, I want you to know that this,” he gestured between the two of you. “Is all I could ever want. You’re everything I could ever want, forever.”

You narrow your eyes as you nod, your hands coming up to rest on his chest. “You’re all I want, too, Ani,”

He leaned forward and kissed you deeply, his left hand coming up to grip the side of your face. “I just wanted to make sure you’re aware of that,” he murmurs as he pulls back and moves to stand next to you. He wraps his right arm around your waist and raises his left, his tattoo on full display now.

Your eyes widen as your hand shoots out to grip his and angle his wrist in an awkward angle. “Ani,” you gasped quietly as you observed the new ink that is now permanently on his skin. 

In your neat handwriting were the words, ‘Forever Your Princess,’ etched onto the smooth skin of his wrist. You remembered writing that on a card for his twenty-first birthday, and your heart swelled at the fact that he actually kept the card. 

You look up at him with a swarm of emotions evident in your eyes. “Anakin,” you whisper and gently run the tip of your index finger over his slightly swollen wrist.

He has your initial tattooed on his bicep, and now he had your writing placed perfectly on the part of his arm that was less crowded with various other tattoos. It had its own spot, whereas your initial was surrounded by random things. 

Both had your heart beating rapidly as you moved to stand in front of him and lean up to kiss him. “You got another tattoo for me?” 

Anakin wasn’t able to respond before you were kissing him again, this time much more deeply than before. When your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, he groans against your mouth as he presses your body against the island. “I’m yours for the rest of my life, princess,” he mumbled against your slightly wet lips. “If it wasn’t obvious enough before.” 

Your eyes nearly rolled back at his words and how effortlessly he was able to turn you on. “God, you’re perfect,” 

He shook his head, his nosing brushing against yours as he did so. “And there’s something else,” 

Your hands slide back down to grip the worn fabric of his vintage tee. “Tell me,”

His fingers tease the skin of your hips when his hands push up your top a bit. “The first stop of the tour is in London,” he says and your lips turn upwards. “As long as you don’t mind sleeping in a bunk with me for a night, you can come with us.”

Your eyes cloud over with something he’s seen thousands of times now before you were kissing him again and gripping his shoulders tightly. His hands grab onto the backs of your thighs as he lifts your body up and sets you down on the island. “You are so fucking perfect,” you say again and kiss all over his face. “The absolute love of my entire life.”

Anakin laughed under his breath as you began to kiss his neck. “So, that’s a yes on coming with us for the first night?”

You pull back and raise your brow at him as if that was the dumbest question ever, and you let him know it was, too, “Are you serious? Of course I’m coming with you,” 

And that was all Anakin needed to hear before he was kissing you again and moving to stand in between your legs. 

It was cliché as fuck to say, but the two of you really did fit so unbelievably well together. While Anakin had been a pretty scrawny kid growing up, he had filled out in all the right places by the time he was in tenth grade. He also took PE during the four years he was in high school, so his shape had only gotten better since then. 

You were a hell of a lot smaller than him, and your height difference was laughable at times. Your body was covered entirely by his whenever he stood in front of you and you looked even smaller whenever he tucked you under his arm. 

And yet you fit perfectly together. 

Anakin pulls your body close to his, and you were barely on the counter as he gave a slow roll of his hips against yours. 

This is where he belonged, with you. He could get through a few months away from you if it meant you got to chase your dream after watching him achieve his. You had been so supportive of him since the very start, he couldn’t not do the same for you. 

He was so fucking proud of you. You are by far the smartest person in his life and he knew you would excel in this program. 

Three months will be nothing, right? It would be nothing when you both know that you’re in it for the long run. 

When your quiet moan reached his ears, he quickly felt himself grow hard. Though, really, it didn’t take much. You turned him on constantly, and most of the time you aren’t even trying to. 

“I’m going to miss you so much,” you say in between kisses. “I miss you already.”

When your fingers begin to work on the button of his jeans, Anakin moves to place kisses all along your neck. “I’m right here, baby,” he swore, pressing kiss after kiss to the smooth skin of your shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere without coming back to you.”

You whine quietly and the sound goes straight to his dick because he simply has no control over that part of himself, and you were so effortlessly hot. “Ani,” you beg and unzip his jeans, your small hand beginning to palm him through his tight boxer briefs. 

“I know, princess,” he mutters, his fingers teasing the waistline of your sweats. “Where do you want it?”

“Here,” you answer in a breathy tone, your freehand coming up to tug on his hair a bit. He had let it grow out a few centimeters, just to try it out, and was receiving no complaints on your end, so he assumed you must like it. Even if he didn’t like it, he probably would keep his hair at whatever length you liked the best, all because you were his girl and he would do pretty much anything to please you. “Right here.”

Anakin smirks against your skin, his hands pulling down your sweats and dropping them to the floor. “This reminds me of our place on campus,” he mumbles as he reaches down to run his index and middle fingers through your folds, finding you already wet for him. “Remember that first night we couldn’t even make it through dinner before you were begging me to fuck you? I took you right there on the counter.”

“We were nineteen, Anakin,” you try to excuse your past actions, but clearly were no better than the way you were two years ago as you were in damn near the same exact predicament. “And we just moved in, I didn’t get the chance to make the bed yet.”

He hummed as he sunk his digits into your welcoming heat. “I’m not complaining, baby,” he smirked, pulling your body closer to the edge of the counter so he could grind his still clothed front against your bare one. “Just goes to show how much we need each other, huh?”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him right up against you, your legs closing around his waist. “I’m always going to need you, Ani,” you say against his mouth. “Please, touch me.”

Anakin barely had enough room to be able to push down his boxers and thrust into your core, but he managed to do it in one swift movement. He groaned against your wet lips as he began to fuck you while still being fully clothed, his fingers bunching up the fabric of your shirt as he gripped your waist. 

“Ani,” you whimper, tugging on the hair at the back of his neck with tight fists. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he murmured, kissing along your jawline as his hips rocked into yours. “You’re so good for me, so tight.”

Your eyes roll a bit and you reach one hand down, placing it flat on the counter behind you as you try to steady yourself, despite already being relatively stable. “You feel so good, Anakin,” you praised, tilting your head back when he started to place open mouthed kisses to your throat. “So deep.”

He grunted loudly, sucking a mark onto your neck before pulling away and smirking at the love bite. “Easy,” he warned in a half serious tone. “Keep talking like that and I won’t last long at all.”

You shake your head and kiss him deeply. “I don’t need you to last long, Ani,” you mumbled. “Just need you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he rasped, slowing down the harsh thrusts of his hips as he processed your dirty words. Almost five years with you and he still isn’t used to how filthy you can be when alone with him, then become innocent again after he’s done with you. “Jesus Christ, baby.”

You laughed and the sound faded into a low moan as he slowly fucked into you.  The sweet and sexy sound makes him feel a bit crazy and he goes blind for a brief second from the pleasure you always gave him. 

The cool countertop did nothing to soothe your heated skin as your body burned with desire for the man who has only ever been yours. 

The same man who is rutting into you and saying all the right things in your ear as he did so. “You’re so beautiful, princess,” he murmured. “My pretty girl. You’re so fucking sweet.” 

You gasp when he trails a hand down and rubs soft circles onto your clit with the pad of his finger. “Anakin, fuck,” you hum and tug him closer. “Please, please.”

“What?” He asked, his tone mock free as he kissed along the curve of your jaw. “What do you want, baby? What do you need?” 

“Hard,” you weakly answer, twisting his shirt in your hands. “I need it hard, Ani.”

He growled deeply and the sound went straight to your core, where you tighten around him. As he obeyed your request, Anakin found himself lost in the overall feeling of you. The way your body fit against his own, the sound of your soft moans next to his ear, how your hands couldn’t stay still on just one part of him. 

He is so in love with you, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. 

The question weighed heavily on his tongue, and it wasn’t the first time he had to stop himself from asking you right in that moment. 

He just couldn’t help it. He wanted you with him all the time, but you were still young, and have both made it clear that you wanted each other forever. There was no rush. 

“Ani,” your breathless voice called him back to you. “Don’t stop, please.”

Anakin huffed out a grunt, resuming his harsh circles on your clit. “I’m not stopping, pretty girl,” he promised. “Not until I get you off so good.”

“You always do,” you moan, wrapping both arms tightly around his shoulders as your heels dig into his back to bring him even closer to you. “I’m gonna come.”

He kissed you deep and hard, his hips hitting yours at a bruising pace. “Do it,” he says in a daring voice. “Come for me.”

You moan loudly, your hands holding his hair in a death grip.

He couldn’t lie, moving into a new apartment with thick walls had to be one of the best decisions of his life, as you and he could be as loud as you want, and it was no secret that he loved getting you to be as noisy as possible. 

He loved how vocal you got in the bedroom, or in this case, on the kitchen island. 

It wasn’t just because it was a great ego boost and ensured him that he was keeping you satisfied in bed, but because he couldn’t get enough of the sounds you have only ever made for him. 

That was obvious enough, seeing as he literally used an old video you sent him years ago in a song, just so he could share with the world how hot you truly are, even if you are very introverted yourself. 

“Anakin,” you warn in a whisper, brushing your lips against his. “Oh, God.”

Another loud moan leaves your mouth as he feels your walls flood around him, and you whimper with every thrust of his hips as he rides you through your high. “Good girl,” he praised against your lips. 

And he wasn’t too far off, either, as it was only a few more seconds later when he, too, reached his high. 

You keep your legs locked around his waist and pull him right up against you when he stills, embracing him sweetly in the afterglow. Your hands run softly through  his hair while his fingers trace circles on the skin of your hips, the silence between you comfortable yet a bit tense.

You both knew what was coming after this, and you both weren’t ready for it, but found comfort in one another as your time was now limited. 

#star wars anakin #anakin star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #sw anakin #tcw anakin #anakin fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker headcanons #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagines #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen icons #hayden christensen #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen imagine #screaming whispers au #screaming whispers #wrapped around your finger au #wrapped around your finger

[trulyumai]

Kisses and Ceramics

Synopsis: You decided to go to an Arts and Wines studio with Nanami, who looks displeased with his end result. Luckily, his adoring (future), wife, is there to comfort him.

Pairing: Nanami x Reader

Warnings: None (Just a Fluff Overload)

Authors Note: I thought of this cute little blurb while studying for my exam and I just had to write it before I forgot! That and to procrastinate my studying, but shhh!

Enjoy this fluffy piece!

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Nanami wondered if it was a mistake coming here. 

Sitting across from him was you; with your tongue peeking out as you lightly pressed a brush against a bowl you had displayed so proudly. Swiftly and slowly making pink flower designs on the white ceramic, you didn’t notice the man's sour mood just yet.  

His cup sat pathetically, it was uneven and bumpy. he didn’t dare put more effort into it,afraid he would somehow make it worse

It looked like a child scribbled lines on it, sneezing as they traced upon the cup making the blue vertical stripes come out uneven; sloppy. 

Wincing he grabbed the wine glass just beside him, sipping it down in one go before staring back at his disaster in front of him. 

Noticing the blonde haired man hesitancy, you swallowed. 

“Everything okay, Kento?” Slightly smiling, you put on a worried face. 

Maybe asking him to go was a bad idea, he wasn’t much into arts and crafts and you should have taken the hint when you first brought it up to him 

He didn’t exactly seem… ecstatic… to go. 

Recalling back you remembered when it came to fruition 

 The day had just ended, you both were lying comfortably on the plush couch adorning the middle of your living room.

His arm was around your shoulders, while your head was leaning comfortably on his chest. 

It came to you in the spur of the moment, jumping up and startling him you blurted it right out. 

“Kento! We should dine and paint this weekend! Satoru- he went with his date last week and he said it was really fun!”

Squinting at the name of the white haired man, he had to resist letting out a sigh. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he made anything. Painting? It really wasn’t his forte, but you sat there staring at him 

Looking at him with those glossy orbs of yours and who was he to say no to such a face? 

Putting on the best expression he could muster, he stroked your cheek, placing his hand on your chin tilting it upwards.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” leaning in he placed a chaste kiss to your lips, savoring the sweet and minty taste before pulling back, glancing once more at the television. 

The sound of laughter brought you back, the couples around you giggled as they compared crafts, hugging and kissing each other often. 

“Kento,” you giggled, pointing at his cup with a dainty finger. 

“Let me see, it can’t be as bad as you’re making it-” 

“Absolutely not.” With a firm hand he pushed your finger back to its space. 

“Please? I swear I won’t make fun!” Bottom lip protruding you talked once more.

“Pleaaaaaase, Ken?” 

That was all it took. With a sigh, he squinted his eyes, grabbing the poor excuse of a mug and handed it over.

“Thank youuu!” You sang, taking it and going over each divet and bump with care. 

“It’s great! It has more personality than any of theres I bet,” she eyed the other couple by them, who he noticed had painted the cups a solid yellow. 

“Satoru doesn’t have anything on th-

“Don’t say it,” he mumbled, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. 

He remembered Gojos cups, as they were shoved in his face the night prior.

It was frustratingly perfect, glazed with a sheen and a light blue color adorning its circumference. 

“See if you can do better!” The white haired man had laughed, loud and arrogant as usual and his urge to punch him was strong. 

“Satoru,” he heard you behind him, and relaxed his shoulders.

“No showing off! but how did you get it so shiny?!” 

Staring at you now his eyes softened. 

You held it with such care, turning it slowly to admire each and every groove. 

“Don’t forget to put your name on the bottom, honey,” 

Looking up you met his gaze, it was sweet to see him already staring, with loving eyes and a light smile instead of a frown.

He hummed in agreement, taking back the cup delicately, no longer hating how rough it felt.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad, placing his finished project next to yours he leaned forward, leaving  a kiss on your forehead. 

“I’ll send a picture to Gojo, he’ll wanna see em!” 

He sighed once more 

He was never going to live this down. 

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#JJK #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #Gojo #fluff #anime #i should go back to studying now