#I need to decide if I’ll get a place for myself or if I’ll move back in with my parents

[thewulf]

Second Sunrise || Dallas "Dally" Winston

Summary: Request - Dally x buck merril's cousin!reader who buck adopted bc her parents were abusing her.

A/N: Ahhh protective Dally is the best kind of Dally!! This is a heavier one, please look at the trigger warnings before reading. Hope you guys enjoy.

Pairing: Dallas "Dally" Winston x Female Reader (Buck Merril Cousin)

Word Count: 5.2k +

TW: ABUSE, talks of abuse, hitting, bruises, cuts, blood, threats of violence, general Outsiders warnings

The night at Buck's Rodeo Bar was buzzing with life. The jukebox played a raucous country tune while laughter and the clink of beer glasses filled the air. Neon lights cast a glow over the rustic scene illuminating the wood-paneled walls adorned with rodeo memorabilia. Behind the bar, Buck Merril, the owner, and a towering figure with an easy smile, was busy serving drinks. He handed another beer to Dallas "Dally" Winston who wasn’t just a regular; he lived in the small apartment right above the bar.

"Here’s another on the house," Buck said, wiping his hands on a towel. "So, Dal, still finding trouble or is trouble finding you?" He smirked knowing how tuned into trouble his friend was.

Dally was reclining against the bar with his leather jacket just catching the light gave Buck a wry grin. "A bit of both, I guess. Keeps life interesting. What’s been going on with you?"

Buck's gaze shifted to the end of the bar where a young woman was quietly serving customers. His expression softened a bit as he nodded towards her. "You see that girl over there? The one with the tray full of drinks?"

Dally followed Buck’s nod, observing her. She seemed out of place with her reserved demeanor.  Almost too gentle for the rough-and-tumble crowd of the bar. "Yeah, I see her. What about her?"

"That’s my cousin," Buck revealed. His voice lowering even as he kept his tone casual. "Took her in a few months back. Found her in a real bad way... her folks were the ones hurting her. Had to step in and bring her here."

The typical hardness in Dally’s eyes softened. A rare flicker of concern showing through as he took a longer look at her. "That’s rough. How’s she doing now?"

"She’s getting by day by day. It’s tough though, especially at night," Buck explained as his eyes tracked her movements. You skillfully avoided drawing attention to yourself. "She doesn’t talk much about it… tries to keep her head down."

Dally nodded slowly. His usual detached demeanor shifting towards something more thoughtful. "She got a name?"

"Her name's Y/N," Buck said, a touch of pride in his voice. "She's a tough one but you know how it is... the past has a way of holding on."

Dally took a sip of his beer. His gaze lingering on you as you laughed softly at something a customer said. "Maybe I’ll introduce myself, see if she needs anything. Living up here it’d be good to have someone to talk to who understands."

Buck clapped Dally on the back, grateful. "I’d appreciate that and I think she would too. She could use a friend around here."

As Buck moved off to attend to another customer Dally watched you carefully across the bar. There was a quiet strength about you that reminded him of his own struggles, sparking an unexpected sense of kinship. He decided he'd make the first move later that night. A simple gesture of solidarity from one survivor to another.

On a chilly a few months prior during the evening Buck was at a local bar, not his own. He was just enjoying a quiet drink away from his usual crowd. The place was less crowded, dimly lit, with the usual murmur of hushed conversations filling the air.

At the far end of the bar Buck overheard a familiar voice rising above the low din. It was his uncle, Y/N's father, drunk and bitterly ranting to anyone who would listen. Buck’s ears perked up as the harsh words cut through the buzz of the bar.

"Yeah, that worthless girl of mine," his uncle slurred, his voice dripping with contempt, "Nothing but a dumb whore. Ain’t good for nothing but to kick around. She’s just like her mother. Can’t do nothing right."

The bar’s patrons shifted uncomfortably. Some trying to ignore the man, others glancing sympathetically towards Buck knowing the already strained relationship. Buck’s jaw tightened with anger and a fierce protectiveness rising within him. He had known your home life was troubled, but the cruel reality had never been so blatantly laid out before him.

With a hard slam of his glass on the counter Buck stood up, his decision made in an instant. He left the bar and drove straight to your house. His mind racing with every turn of the wheel. When he arrived, the scene was as bad as he had feared, maybe worse.

He found you in the corner of her dimly lit living room. Your form small and battered. A stark contrast to the storm raging outside. Your mother was the only other person present, her demeanor anxious and defensive as Buck burst through the door.

"What the hell is going on here?" Buck’s voice thundered through the small space as he quickly assessed the situation. His eyes darting from you to your mother.

Your mother tried to intercept him with her voice shaky. "Buck, you shouldn’t be here—"

"It’s too late for that," Buck cut her off. His voice firm and resolute. "I just heard that excuse of a father of hers at the bar, bragging about how he treats Y/N. I’m taking her with me. She’s not staying here another minute."

Overwhelmed and cornered your mother wilted under Buck’s stern gaze. "You can’t just take her. She—"

"I’m not asking," Buck stated flatly. His decision was clear in his tone. "I’m telling you how it’s going to be. If you have any objections we can go through the authorities."

He approached you, his demeanor softening as he reached out to help you up. "Let’s go, Y/N. You’re safe now. You’re with me."  With a comforting hand on your back Buck led you out of the house and into the safety of his car. The rain started as the two of you drove away washing over the car.

Dally watched you move through the bar. Your interactions tinged with the newfound stability that Buck had given you. His thoughts on your resilience deepened. His respect for Buck’s bold intervention reinforcing his desire to get to know you better. The bond of shared struggles was forming, unspoken yet palpable in the busy bar.

You moved with a gentle grace. Your smile was warm yet reserved as you took orders and delivered drinks. Your interactions were polite and professional, yet there was a hint of wariness in your eyes. A shadow that seemed to linger from your past. As you paused to reset a table, straightening the condiments, and wiping down the surface, your attention to detail spoke of someone who took pride in your work. Dally thought that perhaps you found solace in the routines.

Dally’s gaze followed your movements until he found himself standing up, driven by an impulse to bridge the gap between them. He approached the bar where she was lining up drinks on a tray.

"Hey," Dally started. His voice slightly hesitant as he leaned against the bar. "You’re Y/N, right? Buck’s cousin?"

You looked up with a flicker of surprise crossing your features before you nodded hesitantly, clearly unsure of the man standing before you. "Yeah, that’s me. And you are?"

"Dally," he replied offering a small, reassuring smile. "I live upstairs. Heard a lot about you from Buck. Said you’re tough. I can respect that."

A trace of a smile touched your lips. Your guard lowering just a bit. "Thanks, I guess. It’s been a... well, it’s been quite a time adjusting here."

Dally picked up a coaster, spinning it between his fingers. "I get it. Had my share of rough patches too. Buck’s a good guy, though. You landed in a decent spot."

"Yeah he’s been great," You agreed with him. Your hands busying themselves with the drinks attempting to hide a slight tremor. "I’m just trying to make the best of it now."

"Mind if I help you carry these over?" Dally gestured towards the tray. He was eager to extend the interaction, to find more common ground with you. You seemed so hesitant and afraid. Not that he could blame you.

You paused for a fraction of a second before nodding. "Sure, that’d be nice. Table six, over there."

As you walked over to the table together Dally felt the initial awkwardness begin to dissipate. "So, you ever think about what’s next or you just taking it one day at a time?"

"One day at a time, really," You said as you reached the table being careful to set down the drinks with a thankful smile from the patrons. "But I like it here. It feels like a fresh start away from… them."

Dally nodded feeling a kinship in your words. "Fresh starts are good. Hard but good. If you ever need someone to talk to or anything, I’m just upstairs. Sometimes it helps talking to someone who gets it."

You looked at him with your expression softening further. "Thanks Dally. I might just take you up on that offer." For the first time in a while a genuine smile crossed your face at his words.

Over the next few weeks, a subtle shift began to unfold between you and Dally at Buck’s bar. What started as casual exchanges of small talk over the bar counter deepened into late-night conversations that lingered long after the last customer had left.

One evening as the neon signs were turned off and the bar quieted down you found yourself sitting at one of the tables with Dally with a deck of cards spread out between you. He had insisted on teaching you poker, claiming that it was a sin you didn’t know how to play. That got a laugh out of you as you agreed with him. The game was merely a pretense. It was a backdrop to the intimate dialogue that wove between you two. You touched on topics neither of you usually shared with others.

"So, do you have any dreams? Like things you wanna do now that you’ve got a fresh start?" Dally asked. His hands idly shuffling the cards almost afraid to look into your eyes.

You paused as you traced the wood grain of the table with your finger. "I don’t know," you confessed softly. "I used to think a lot about traveling. Seeing places that are totally different from here. Maybe write about them. But that doesn’t really seem possible. What about you?" You tried your best to flip it around on him.

Dally let out a soft, wistful laugh. "Me? I’ve never been much of a dreamer. Always been about getting through the day. But I guess, maybe, finding some peace? Could be nice to have a real shot at something stable, you know?" He’d told you all about his shitty situation that made your heart hurt for him. How could anyone be so cruel to him? Sure, he had a rough exterior but had anybody ever tried to get to know Dallas Winston? He was a sweetheart through and through. Albeit a little awkward about it but he always seemed to put your needs ahead of his. How could you not start to fall for him?

Your eyes met then met his with a mutual understanding crossing between you. Both of you knew what it was like to long for something more than just survival, more than the daily struggles that had so often defined your lives.

As autumn deepened and the nights grew colder your meetings at the bar became a regular fixture. Sometimes you would both sit in silence each lost in your own thoughts yet comforted by the presence of the other. Other times you would share stories of your pasts—guarded tales of pain and resilience that you entrusted to each other.

One winter evening as you walked back from a nearby diner that Dally and you had become accustomed to you wrapped your arms around yourself against the chill. Dally noticed and without a word draped his jacket over your shoulders. Neither of you broached the subject of what the hell was going on. Rather you simply just decided to enjoy the others company. It was easy with him. A rarity in your fucked up world.

"Thanks," you murmured. Your cheeks flushing slightly as you pulled the jacket tighter around you. “You sure? It’s cold.���

"I’m sure. It’s nothing," Dally replied with his voice low. "You know, talking to you... it’s the first time in a long while I’ve felt like someone actually gets it." His eyes looked everywhere but yours. A slight flush crossed his features as he admitted so. You’d come to learn how difficult these emotional conversations were for him. But you did get it. They were hard for you too. Neither of you were raised with love. You were always the second thought. The bitch daughter or the troubled son.

You nodded to him with your eyes reflecting the streetlights. "I feel the same. It’s weird, isn’t it? How talking can make things seem a bit lighter." You tried reassuring him with your words.

You continued your walk-in comfortable silence, whatever it was between the two of you growing with every shared glance and laugh. By the time you reached the bar again your laughter echoed softly in the empty street. You’d never laughed so much in your life as you did when you were with him.

The bar was alive with the usual Friday night revelry as you knew Buck needed your help. Once you entered the bar you waved Dally off with that genuine smile he adored so much. The air was filled with laughter and the twang of country tunes. You stood behind the bar pouring drinks and sharing easy smiles. You felt more secure and content than you ever had in your life. Dally was there too. He didn’t want to leave or go upstairs after your dinner not date. He watched you from across the room with a protective gaze that had become a comforting fixture in your life.

But the fragile peace shattered the moment your father staggered through the door.

His arrival cut through the noise like a cold front. His eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you behind the bar. With a cruel smirk twisting his lips he made his way over to you. Each step heavy with menace. You tensed when he stood in front of you. Your hands gripped the edge of the bar trying to ground yourself back into the situation. Why? Why couldn’t he have just left you alone? It’d been months and you hadn’t heard from him. Why did he have to come now?

"Y/N.” He spit your name out with vengeance. “You think you can hide from me?" He slurred.  His voice loud and filled with malice. He reached over the bar grabbing your arm and yanking you towards him. You should’ve expected it, but the shock of his arrival had you paralyzed. His other hand struck your face. His ring cutting a sharp line across your cheek. You let out a quiet yelp as the pain burned bright.

The bar fell silent. The music fading into the background. Before you could react, Dally was there in an instant. His presence like a storm. He grabbed your father by the collar and threw him back with such force that your father stumbled and fell onto his back with a heavy thud.

"You lay your hands on her again and I swear it'll be the last thing you do," Dally thundered, standing over him. His fists clenched and ready. His breathing was heavy as he looked like he truly would kill him should he try that again.

Your father, sprawled on the floor, looked up at Dally with a mix of shock and rage. "You stupid worthless whore!" he spat at you. His words echoing through the now silent bar. He jumped to his feet attempting to get his hands back on you.

Dally’s response was swift though. His fist connected with your father's face, a sharp, resounding impact that sent him back to the ground, blood spattering from his lip. All you could do was gape at the situation unfolding before you.

Buck rushed over appearing out of nowhere. His face set in a hard line. "That's enough!" he declared standing beside Dally. His eyes bore the same expression of Dally’s, "Get out of my bar and don't come back. Next time I'm calling the cops."

With a hand from Dally your father was hauled to his feet and shoved towards the door. His exit was met with relieved sighs and a few scattered claps from the patrons, but the atmosphere remained tense. You couldn’t seem to focus on what would come next as your eyes were trained on Dallas and only him.

As the door slammed shut behind your father leaving the bar in an uneasy silence. Dally turned his gaze back on you. His heart nearly shattered seeing your bleeding face mixing with a few tears that’d slipped down. He could see the pain flicker across your face not just from the cut but from the reopened wounds of your past. Slowly he walked back over to you with his hands up. He didn’t want to freak you out further than you were. With a gentle touch that contrasted sharply with the fierce protection he had just displayed Dally leaned in close.

"Come on sweetheart. Let's get that cleaned up," he said softly nodding towards the staircase that led to his apartment above the bar.

You hesitated. A mix of emotions swirling within you—gratitude, relief, but also a deep-seated fear from the confrontation. Sensing your hesitation Dally offered a reassuring smile. "I promise you, you're safe with me."

Trusting him you allowed Dally to lead you up the stairs to his modest living space. The apartment was small but welcoming with a warmth that felt comforting after the cold violence of the night. Dally guided you to a seat at the small kitchen table, then wet a clean cloth with warm water and approached you gently.

"May I?" he asked. His tone was more tender than you’d ever heard from him. You nodded and he carefully dabbed at the cut on your cheek. His touch was so light you could barely feel it. As he tended to your wound the kindness of the act—so at odds with the harshness you had grown used to—overwhelmed you and a fresh set of tears began to stream down your face.

Dally brow furrowed in concern. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured while he set aside the cloth to pull a chair up close beside you. He sat down. His brown eyes searching yours. They were so full of empathy. "You don't have to hold it all in, sweetheart. Not here."

You looked into Dally’s eyes seeing there not just the rugged survivor of the streets, but a kindred spirit who had seen his share of pain and still chose kindness. With a shaky breath you leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder.

Dally wrapped his arms around you holding you gently. "You're safe here, Y/N. As long as you need, as long as you want."

In that quiet space with Dally's steady presence enveloping you, the fear and tension that had knotted in your chest began to dissolve. His apartment was small and unassuming, but it felt like a sanctuary and his embrace a shield against the chaos of your past.

The night wound down quietly with you and Dally sitting together. The two of you talked softly about nothing and everything until the early morning light began to seep through the curtains. It was the first night in forever where you felt truly safe, truly seen.

As the first light of dawn painted the walls of Dally's apartment a soft, warm hue, the room was filled with a sense of quiet intimacy that had grown over the course of the night. Sitting side by side on the worn couch both you and Dally were enveloped in a reflective silence. The kind that follows after a storm of emotions.

Dally was the first to break the silence,. His gaze fixed on the faint light peeking through the blinds before turning to look at you. "You know," he began with his voice low and a little rough from the long night, "tonight was a mess, but it kinda cleared up something for me."

Your heart fluttered with a mix of anticipation and nervousness as you met his eyes. "What's that?" you asked softly. You were almost afraid to hear the answer but desperate to know.

Dally took a deep breath as his hand found yours. His fingers gently intertwining with yours. "It's you," he said simply. "All this craziness... it made me realize how much I care about you. More than I thought possible, actually."

Hearing his words a warmth spread through you, mingling with the fatigue from the night’s events. You squeezed his hand, the gesture simple but filled with meaning. "Dally, I feel the same. I didn't know how to say it before, but you've become so important to me."

The corner of Dally’s mouth lifted in a half-smile. A hint of his usual cockiness peeking through his tired features. "Yeah? That’s good to hear, 'cause I wasn’t sure how you’d take it." You giggled at that feeling a sense of euphoria at how this all actually turned out.

As the conversation dwindled, a yawn escaped you breaking the tender moment with its stark reminder of the night’s toll on your body. Dally chuckled softly. He pat his leg in a gentle, inviting gesture. "C'mere, sweetheart. Lay down here and close your eyes. I’ll be right here when you wake up."

Grateful and too exhausted to protest you shifted closer, laying your head on his thigh as he adjusted to make you comfortable. His hand found your hair, fingers brushing softly through it in a soothing rhythm.

With the comfort of his presence and the security of his promise you allowed your eyes to flutter closed, sleep overtaking you swiftly. The last thing you felt was Dally’s protective gaze and the gentle pressure of his hand in your hair. It was a silent vow of his commitment to be there no matter what came next.

As you settled against Dally your breath evening out in the quiet rhythm of sleep, he watched the soft rise and fall of your shoulders. A sense of peace settling over him. The apartment was quiet now the only sound the faint hum of the city awakening outside. In this moment, with the early morning light casting gentle shadows across your face, Dally found himself in a rare state of contemplation.

His hand rested gently on your head. His fingers lightly tracing through your hair. It was a simple, almost unconscious gesture that soothed both of you. The weight of the night's events lingered in his mind—the confrontation, the fear in your eyes, the way his heart had raced when he stood up for you. It all solidified something he'd only begun to admit to himself: how deeply he cared for you, how fiercely he wanted to protect you. How he may have even loved you.

As he watched you sleep Dally’s thoughts drifted. He was used to solitude, to the rough and tumble of a life lived on the edges. But sitting here with you breathing softly against him, he felt a pull towards something different. Something more. It was terrifying and new. This feeling of wanting to belong to someone, of wanting someone to belong with him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed himself to be so vulnerable with another person or if he ever truly had. But with you it felt right. It felt necessary. He realized that this—caring for you, being there for you—might be the closest thing to home he had ever known.

The morning grew brighter, light filling the room and Dally’s own eyelids began to droop. The exhaustion from the night's adrenaline and the emotional toll of opening his heart were catching up with him. But he didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to risk waking you. He wanted you to sleep as long as you needed, to wake up feeling safe and cared for.

His hand continued to run through your hair slowly, rhythmically, until his own eyes finally closed. Sleep overtaking him in the quiet comfort of his apartment. Even in sleep, his presence remained steadfast. A promise to be there when you woke up, and for whatever came next.

As the morning sun climbed higher with its rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains the apartment above Buck’s Rodeo Bar held a quiet, peaceful scene. Dally and you were asleep as an unspoken love formed in the shared silence of rest after a tumultuous night. However, this tranquility was soon interrupted by the sound of the apartment door swinging open with casual familiarity.

Buck strolled in with a steaming coffee cup in one hand and a bag of breakfast sandwiches in the other. His voice breaking the morning calm with a playful tone. "Well, look what we have here," he exclaimed. "Our very own knight in shining armor and his damsel tucked away from the world. You two sure skedaddled out of the bar pretty quick last night. Place your bets, folks!" He snickered seeing you and him so coziest up on the couch together.

Before Buck could spin another jest Dally's eyes snapped open, immediately alert. His protective instincts still sharp from the night before, flared up at the intrusion. “Buck, shut the hell up. She’s sleeping.” Dally hissed with his tone both irritated and fiercely protective. He glanced down quickly to make sure you were still out, undisturbed by the noise of your cousin.

Buck paused at the threshold, a knowing smirk spreading across his face as he took in the scene—the way you were nestled comfortably against Dally, his hand resting protectively in your hair even in sleep. "Oh man, Dally’s gone soft," Buck teased in a low voice chuckling to himself. "Never thought I’d see the day. Truly."

He set down the coffee and sandwiches on the kitchen counter. His movements now deliberately quiet though his eyes twinkled with mirth. “I’ll keep it down. You lovebirds need your rest after all those heroics last night.”

Dally just glared at him, but his posture relaxed slightly as he saw that you were still sleeping peacefully. His gaze softened as he looked back down at you. The fierceness melting into something tender and caring.

Buck watched the exchange. His chuckle deepening as he backed out of the room shaking his head in amusement. “I’ll be downstairs,” he murmured before pulling the door almost closed behind him. "Don’t rush Dally. The world can wait."

As the door clicked shut Dally’s hand resumed its gentle motion through your hair, his eyes lingering on your face. He let out a quiet sigh while the tension eased from his shoulders. The world outside could indeed wait. Right now, being in this quiet moment was all that mattered. He wanted to keep you safe making sure you felt cared for. And as he settled back closing his eyes once more he knew deep down that whatever came next, he was ready. So long as it was with you.

Later that day after a few more hours of much-needed sleep, you and Dally made your way back down to Buck’s bar. The place had regained its usual lively atmosphere with the afternoon crowd bringing a bustling energy that filled the air with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses.

You and Dally settled into a quiet corner booth a bit removed from the hustle and bustle. The events of the previous night still lingered in the air between you. An acknowledgment of everything that had happened and everything that was still unspoken.

Dally slid into the booth across from you his demeanor relaxed but his eyes keen, watching you with a softness that was new. "So," he started while breaking the comfortable silence, "feels like we got through some kind of storm, huh?"

You nodded wrapping your hands around a warm cup of coffee that Buck had brought over. His knowing wink making you both smile. "Yeah it does. But it feels like it’s clearing up now," you replied before meeting Dally's gaze with a hopeful smile.

Dally's lips curved into a slow, genuine smile. "I think so too. We've been through a lot, but maybe it's just what we needed."

"Right," you agreed. Your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

The conversation drifted then to lighter topics. Plans for the bar, stories from Dally's wilder days, your dreams of traveling, and with each story and shared laugh the love between you deepened. It was as if the foundations for something new and hopeful were being laid down with each passing moment.

As the afternoon wore on the bar began to fill up with the evening crowd. The music grew louder and the sounds of a lively night taking shape swirled around you. Yet, in your quiet corner of the bar it felt like a sanctuary with him.

Finally, Dally reached across the table taking your hand in his. His gaze conveyed a silent promise of support, understanding without needing to articulate it. The clamor of the bar seemed to fade into the background as Dally broke the silence. "Hey," he said. His voice softer than the din around you, "I was thinkin'... How 'bout we go out tomorrow? Just you and me, no chaos, no drama. We could take my bike, hit the road, see where it takes us."

Your heart that was already warmed by his earlier protectiveness leapt at the invitation. His offer was simple but filled with the promise of new memories, new experience. Just Dally and you learning the rhythms of each other's joy. "I'd like that," you replied with a grin. Your voice equally soft. "A real date, huh?"

Dally's smirk was one of triumph mixed with a bashfulness that you had come to find so endearing. "Yeah, a real date with a beautiful girl," he confirmed. "Figured it's about time we did something normal for a change sweetheart."

The bar around you hummed with life. The energy of people embarking on their nightly escapades, the clatter of glasses and the laughter serving as a backdrop to this quiet, pivotal moment between you and Dally. It symbolized not just a return to normalcy but the blossoming of something new. Something hopeful.

As Dally's thumb gently caressed the back of your hand you felt a chapter closing on the past and a new one beginning. Here in the heart of the bar's fervor you found a peaceful anticipation for the future. This wasn't just an end to the turmoil that had swept you into Dally's life. It was the start of a journey together. A journey that promised the warmth of shared sunrises, the thrill of open roads, and the comfort of hands held tight in solidarity.

In the cacophony of the bar, you both found a shared rhythm. A mutual understanding that this was just the beginning. And with Dally's hand in yours, the future, once so uncertain, now seemed filled with endless possibilities.

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[wittlesissyb4by]

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Here

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.” Mr. Pennyworth says. 

It feels like a dagger has been shoved into my stomach. I’m not sure what to say, so he just continues anyway. 

“Your productivity is by far the lowest in the company, you’re not reliable to show up on time or even at all, and your long hair is unprofessional and not befitting of this company’s standards.” He clears his throat, sifting through some papers. “We also have reason to believe you called-in on Friday without actually being sick.”

“What makes you think that?” I say, finally speaking up for the first time. 

He shrugs, “Let’s just say we got an anonymous tip.”

******

“Everything alright with you?” Max asks, moving his pawn forward to free up his bishop. 

“I’m fine,” I say, half-heartedly moving my knight with no clear plan in place. “Lost my job today.”

Max frowns, moving his bishop out as I expected. “I’m really sorry, dude. That sucks to hear.”

“Yea…it’s fine, I guess,” I sigh, “Didn’t much like it there much anyway.” 

He still hasn’t said anything about the other day. I’m not sure if he actually saw anything, or he did and just doesn’t want to bring it up. How do you talk about seeing a bunch of sissy toys and diapers in your roommate’s room? Is that even something to talk about?

I remember back in college when my roommate at the time had found a slew of sissy porn on my computer. I was there when he saw everything. That sick feeling in my stomach took forever to go away. It’s back now. 

“Well if you start applying for jobs, you can always use me as a reference. Just say I’m an old manager or something.” He says, putting his Queen in a precarious position. I seize the opportunity and take it. I realize too late that it left my King open for an easy assault. An obvious trap I should have seen coming. 

“Checkmate.” Max says, smiling. 

******

As the weeks went by, so did the job opportunities and applications. I rarely received any callbacks, and even if I got an interview, I’d either get ghosted afterwards or they would call and say something to the degree of “after careful consideration, we’ve decided to go with another candidate.”

God, the job market is rough. 

My bank account is dangerously low. I probably should have done a better job of saving for times like this, but I guess I was more excited about buying outfits and diapers. Still, I’m not going to make it through the next month without some sort of income. It’s time to have the awkward conversation with Max. 

“Hey, man. Can I talk to you for a sec?” I say, shuffling my feet into the living room. 

He pauses the hockey game and turns to me, “what’s up?”

It’s such a weird topic to bring up, but I have to bite the proverbial bullet. “I’m having trouble finding a job…” I say sheepishly, “I didn’t work long enough at my last one to get severance, so…I’m a little low on funds.”

He just sits there, always with that stoic expression, listening intently. He doesn’t say anything, just lets me continue. 

“So…umm..I’m uh, gonna be short on rent this month.”

Again he continues to stare at me, as if deep in thought, stroking his beard. It almost seems a little exaggerated. Like he’s acting. 

“I see,” he finally says. “So you need me to help you?”

As demoralizing as it is to admit, I have to. “Yes…”

He smiles. “Okay. No problem.”

“Really?”

“Yea.”

I don’t know what to say. A weight of anxiety and fear is lifted off my shoulders. I can feel it melt away as I start to relax. “Thanks man, I really do appreciate it. I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise. Anything you need, just let me know.”

His eyes have a strange glint to them. Like he was hoping I would say exactly that. 

“I actually do have a job in mind for you,” He says, “You can start today.”

I sense a sudden shift in the air around the room. He leans back on the couch a bit, patting the seat next to him. I find myself sitting down beside him, not exactly sure what’s going on, but sensing something amiss. 

Max puts his hand on my leg, “it’s okay, nothing to worry about.” he says softly. I feel myself release a breath, feeling comforted, but still a little uneasy. 

It’s like he’s holding something back. Like he’s trying to find the words but doesn’t know how to say it. I wonder if he knows. If he saw the things in my room.

“I saw the things in your room.” He says. 

Yea, I’d say he knows…

My stomach does that familiar churning. The shame of what I've done, or been caught doing coursing through me. “I-i can explain…”

“Don’t bother.” He says, waving it away. “I’ve always had my suspicions.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I’ve always tried to be so reserved and secretive with my true desires. I didn’t think anyone else would notice. 

He shifts on the couch again. When he does, something catches my eye, there’s a very large bulge in his shorts. 

Noticing me looking at the log snaking down his leg, he starts running his hand over it and smiling. “Have you ever sucked a cock before?”

I realize my mouth is hanging open. I gulp, shaking my head. “Not a real one.”

He laughs at that, it breaks some of the tension, then he shrugs. “Well, there’s a first time for everything…” he gently pulls at his zipper, snaking it down ever so slowly. But he doesn’t pull it out, just leaves it open, letting my imagination run wild. “Do you want to suck it?” He asks. 

Again I find myself dumbfounded, this is all happening so fast, but before I can think about it I find the word escaping my lips. 

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “Good, because you were going to have to do it anyway. This place ain’t cheap.”

After our awkward laughter dies down, I’m left in the precarious position of what to do next. Luckily, he guides me after several seconds of silence. 

“Open my pants.”

I reach a shaky hand to his button, it takes me a bit to get my fumbling fingers to work it free. 

Again, I’m lost as to what to do next. Should we kiss? Do I close my eyes? What do I—

“Take it out.”

His direction helps. It’s easier for me to follow orders than it is to take initiative in such uncharted territory. I reach my hand into the waistband of his boxers, feeling around for it, my heart beating out of my chest. It doesn’t take me long at all to find the warm, fleshy member. I gently pull it back, it bends a bit before snapping out of the boxers to stare straight up at me. 

It’s big. Very big. I can barely wrap my fingers around it. The veins are popping out the side, and I can even feel his own heart beating through it. Pulsing. Rapidly. He’s just as nervous as I am but he doesn’t show it. 

“Well...it’s not gonna suck itself…”

I realize I’ve been staring at it for a while. I use my other hand to wipe the drool from my mouth. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Somehow my throat feels both dry and wet at the same time, it doesn’t even make sense. Finally, I push past the nervous excitement, and lean forward. His cock seems to grow as it gets closer to my face. I’ve imagined this moment over and over for years. I’ve watched countless videos through the lens of girls wearing a GoPro on their head taking big, giant dicks into their mouths. But somehow this is different. I’m the girl now. It’s my POV, and it’s what I've always dreamed of. 

I open my mouth when I’m inches away and close my eyes, imagining I'm one of the girls in those videos. 

The head of his dick already feels different than my dildos. It’s squishier, warmer, and tastes just a little bit salty, but in a good way. In a great way. This is what I've always wanted, and I’ve finally gotten it. 

I hear a soft moan escape my lips just before they close around his cock. It sounds pathetic, but I don’t care. Things finally feel…right. Like this is what was supposed to be in my mouth all along. All those things they told me in sissy porn were true. 

I take him deeper in my mouth. I find it easier to slide it  down my throat than my dildo. I take it as far as I can until my eyes water, then go back up for a breath. 

In the overwhelming rush of stimuli, I forgot all the techniques I’ve practiced for so long. I try to remember: swirl your tongue, suction on the way up, not down, and most importantly: keep it nice and wet. 

I let the drool run from my mouth, using my hand to coat his cock with it, taking a breath before diving back down. 

“Someone’s been practicing.” He breathes. 

I melt at his praise. I always wanted to be a cocksucker, and I always hoped I’d be a good cocksucker. But you never really know, my dildo doesn’t make noises. 

But him? He was breathing heavily, moaning, groaning, and doing all the things that told me I was doing something right. It ignited a fire in me. With every grunt he made I found myself getting more and more enthusiastic so as to make it happen again. 

Leaning over across the couch next to him is a bit awkward, though. 

He notices. “Get on your knees.”

I take him out of my mouth and scramble a little too eagerly onto the floor between his legs. 

He looks down at me, almost victoriously, like his plan has come to fruition. I am in no way perturbed. In fact, my cock is screaming inside my pants. I don’t think I've ever been this hard in my life. 

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.” He says, apparently noticing my penis poking prominently through my pants. “You can touch it.” 

Is that his decision? I guess so…because as soon as he says it I find my hand going inside my pants. 

“No no.” He says. “On the outside. Rub it like you’re a girl. A sissy girl.”

Just the sound of that word gives me a wave of pleasure. I’m so hot and bothered that my body is quaking. I love the way he’s dominating me. Taking my power away so I don’t have to make the decisions myself, and therefore making me more relaxed about doing something I may otherwise have chickened-out on. Would I be here, on my knees, about to suck his cock if he hadn’t made me? Is he making me? Or am I doing it on my own volition?

I knead the front of my crotch. Feeling my throbbing cock and nestling my aching balls. I feel a bit weird with him watching me, so I turn my attention back to his cock. Well, more specifically, his balls. I’ve learned that when worshipping a man—as I’m doing right now—maintaining eye contact while lapping at his balls is one of the perfect ways to show your submission. I also know (from being on the receiving end) that having your balls sucked does not feel nearly as good as porn makes it seem, it’s actually kind of painful. 

So after licking his sack and stroking for several seconds, I spit on his dick and take it back into my mouth with renewed vigor. My own balls are aching at this point, I can feel them turning blue. I use two fingers and twirl them in circles over my pants while I bob up and down on Max’s dick. 

“Fuck yea…” he moans. God it feels so good to make him make those noises. “I’m gonna cum.” 

So am I. 

Knowing he’s on the verge gets me insatiably hot. I want nothing more than to get him to bust in my mouth, like some sort of primal need. 

I hear myself moaning again. I’m not sure if it’s from the pleasure I'm giving or receiving. 

“You want it in your mouth?” He asks considerately. 

“Mhmm!!” I swoon hungrily around his dick. My hand gyrates over my own. The thought of making a man cum in my mouth is too much to handle. I feel a warmth fill my pants as I shake and convulse, trying to keep my focus on his dick while I spasm in an intense orgasm. 

I feel the desire begin to fade. The reality of what I'm doing seeping in. This is my roommate, and I’m on my knees in our living room slobbering all over his big dick like a girl he just met on Tinder. 

“Ohh yea…” he twitches. I can feel the head of his penis swelling, even more than it was before. It gets me excited again. Eager. Desperate. “Right there, just like that! I’m almost there…”

I’ve never been on the receiving end of that statement. Guys saying they’re almost there but are actually a few minutes out. 

My cheeks are starting to burn, my throat is getting sore, it burns from the bile of gagging, I need air, to take a break and a breath, but I don’t want to lose my progress. I need to power through and do what I need to do. 

He grips the cushion of the couch. His legs flail and tense. The head of his cock is bigger than ever. His breathing becomes labored, syncopated, and then it stops. 

That’s when I felt the first gush hit my tongue. Even though I was expecting it, I wasn’t exactly ready for it. Another pump, and then another. I worry I won’t be able to hold it all. 

He gives a big exhale, and that’s when I know he’s spent. I hold his dick and his cum in my mouth a bit, not exactly sure what to do next. I suck a bit more to pull out any remaining drops, then take him out of my mouth. 

The jizz is warmer than I expected it to be, saltier too, but it doesn’t taste bad. It’s my reward. A token of my accomplishment. I just sucked my first real dick, and it was everything I hoped it would be. 

I gulp down the load, smiling gratefully like any good little slut would. 

“Good job.” He says, patting me on the head like I’m a well-behaved puppy. “Now run along…”

That’s it. He doesn’t say anything else. Just pulls up his pants, zips them back up, grabs the remote, and resumes the Hockey game. 

A little disheveled, I wipe the slobber from my mouth, get up, and head out of the room like a discarded toy. What did I expect to happen? For us to cuddle and whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ear? I don’t even think I would want that. But to be thrown away like that makes me feel…used. 

Then I remember the wet, sticky stain in my pants. A reminder that I enjoyed myself, a lot. 

So I guess it’s no surprise that when I got back to my room, I shut the door, locked it, and started enjoying myself two more times…

To Be Continued

#roomies

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Dolce

Chapter Twenty One

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Word Count: 1787

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, minor backstory, they're idiots your honor, unbeta'd

A/N: Thank you all for your patience. Apart from being sick, I second and third and quintuple guessed myself on this chapter and then thoroughly ignored the difficult parts and just let them have a conversation on their own. That's it, it's just a phone call. xoxo Stu

Forgive me @lastactiontricia <3

Series Masterlist

You stood in your kitchen staring at the food in the fridge. It wasn’t much, but you had options.You just hated them all at that moment. You closed the door and slogged over to the pantry. It was the Friday night after Dean’s birthday and you wanted nothing to do with your phone or work or anything social media related. 

So you had turned off your ringer and left it to charge. 

You grabbed a bag of microwave popcorn out of the box and ripped off the plastic wrap. It was a poor excuse for dinner, but it at least would tide you over while you decided what you actually wanted to eat. Then you poured yourself a glass of wine, a sweet white because you were not a snob about it. No matter how many trips to Napa people took you on, you really weren’t going to spend an arm and a leg on a bottle that you only half-heartedly appreciated.

Once it was ready, you took the puffed up bag of popcorn with you to the living room because what was the point of making another dish? And decidedly resorted to turning on the tv.

The thing about streaming shows is that even though your attention wavered, the consistency of the characters on the screen made you feel less alone. You got through six episodes before you realized you never made anything for dinner. And at that point, it was too late to start. You stomped around trying to remember where you left your phone only to find a missed call from Dean and a dozen random texts from other people.

You double checked you didn’t have any voicemails and scrolled down to order delivery. Once dinner was finally sorted, you poured yourself the last of the bottle of wine and called Dean back.

The phone rang in your ear as you sat in the corner of your couch, criss-cross applesauce while turning on the next episode on mute. He answered on the fourth ring.

“Trouble, hey!”

“You rang?” You took a sip. Wherever he was was loud, but you could hear him moving through the buzz of passing conversation and cutlery.

“Yeah, you got a minute?”

“The night is my oyster, what’s up?” You leaned forward and set your glass on the coffee table, stretching back and settling in for whatever fire you were going to have to put out next.

The sounds surrounding Dean ended abruptly and he exhaled. “Not much, just grabbing drinks with some people from the label with Bela. You know, schmoozing the uppity ups.”

“Oh— good luck with that.” You shifted onto one hip and hugged your knee. “Tell her she has to pick where we’re getting brunch because the place I wanted is closed for remodeling—- and that she’s paying.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “I’ll fucking cover it, okay? Anything else you need me to tell her? Cuz I could go back in there and just hand her the phone if you want—”

“Nope— no, sorry. It’s fine. You okay?” Something in his voice was setting off a proximity alarm in your head, not full blown panic mode, but enough to let you know something had appeared on the horizon. 

“Yeah, ‘m good. It’s just not my kind of thing—- Bela’s great at these things— I just stand there wishing I could be anywhere else.”

“I’m surprised you even showed up— especially with rehearsals starting Monday.” You grabbed your wine again, waiting Dean out.

“Gotta play nice— you said so,” Dean teased, you could hear the soft hum of his smugness before he shifted gears. “Listen— that whole thing with Cas and the birthday bus— and the whole day actually—”

“Are you really gonna start bitching about that now? Dean, it is so not the time— don’t you have someone’s ass to kiss?”

“What?! I’m not— would you let me finish?! Jesus. I was trying to thank you!--- Don’t know why, now, but yeah.”

You bit your lips and perked up, straightening your back and wagging your head a little back and forth. “Oh? By all means— continue.”

“Yeah, okay, smart ass.”

You cackled and let him stew a bit.

“It was seriously the best, okay? Like, top five of all time.” Dean switched ears and you tried not to squee with the idea of making him so happy he’d been thinking about it for days. That he had to call you to tell you— even as an excuse to escape a less than stellar social situation. Everything seemed to sparkle on your skin, but that could have been the Reisling. “And about dragging Cas out— that was an unexpected gift. So, yeah, thank you— for all your trouble.”

You groaned.

“Oh come on! That one wasn’t that bad.” Dean pretended to be affronted and you pretended to be annoyed.

“Sure.”

He sniggered. “It was good to see him. It’d been too damn long.”

“Seriously. We had lunch and just getting to hang out with him made everything better.”

“Yeah.” Dean was thinking and you let him.

The television was frozen on the prompt screen, judging you for still watching, but you ignored it. You finished your wine and looked at the last drops through the curved glass, distracted by the reflection of your empty living room.

“You think he’s doing alright? I mean— he’s got a freakin’ kid. That’s got to have been a total mindfuck— you know?”

Naturally, Dean was worried about how Cas was, not about harboring grudges or blaming him for the rift between them. At least not out loud.

“I cannot imagine— and luckily we don’t have to worry about anyone trying to pull that again.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Fuckin’ Lisa, I almost forgot about that. That was like the first big thing you had to bury when you started.”

You sat up and climbed onto your knees, like getting taller would help make your point. “Oh, I know! God that was such an uphill battle, even when she pretended to play nice. I still get the heebie jeebies when I pass her yoga studio on the way to Charlie’s.”

Dean chuckled. “Man— the things we do for fame. We are paying you, right?”

“Last time I checked.”

“Okay, good, probably should be more though, especially with all the Bela stuff.”

“Dean— I make well over the industry standard percentage with you guys. Plus, you barely even charge me rent. I’m doing fine.”

“Whatever—- still, want you to know your hard work is appreciated.”

You settled back down and picked at the seam of your leggings. “That is the weirdest way you could have said thank you, I hope you know.”

“Fuck off— Thank you, okay? THANK YOU. Should I spell it out? Maybe say it in Spanish?”

“Claro.”

“Como se dice ‘bite me’, huh?”

“Muérdeme.”

“Uhhh—- yeah, not gonna try that one while I’m standing in an alley alone.”

You rolled your eyes. “You should probably go back inside. People are waiting on you.”

“They barely even looked up when I stepped away— Bela’d message me if it was a problem.”

“Deeeeeean.”

“Trouuubbbllllle,” the way his voice rumbled with your nickname made it hard to remember you were even wearing clothes.

You climbed off the couch and decided to put your glass in the dishwasher for something to do. He wasn’t going back into the restaurant, but he wasn’t exactly keeping you from anything either.

“Why’d you call if you were out anyway?”

“Heh— I called you to talk me into going through with it.”

Oops. “Well good job on getting there on your own.”

“I was already halfway to Bela’s anyway. Paps perked up real fast when we rolled up. Gonna have to switch out Baby for a rental one of these days. Don't like the way they hone in on her.”

You rolled your eyes. “Probably a good idea, especially if you need privacy.”

“Not really the point of this little arrangement is it?”

“Okay, but still, be safe.”

“With my car? Always.”

You smiled to yourself when there was a knock at your door.

“Somebody there?” You hadn’t realized he could hear it over the line.

“Just dinner.” You beelined through the living room, suddenly starving. You pinched your phone between your shoulder and your cheek as you unlocked the front door. 

“So, what? Just another night in for you? Lemme guess, messy bun and no bra, maybe some leggings?”

You made sure everything was in the bag where the driver left it and dragged it back to the kitchen for a plate. “Is this you asking me what I’m wearing?”

“Maybe.”

You stopped short, and had to lift the bag up onto the counter a second time to keep it from becoming one with the floor. “Ha, ha.”

“Come on, it’s not like I’m gonna do anything here. Just making conversation.”

You ground your teeth, anger spiking from this sudden turn into teasing. “Yeah, well, when it’s the closest thing to a come on I’ve had in months— it feels a little bit more than that.”

You feel the penny drop.

“Dry spell, huh? I was wondering about that.”

“Oh shut it. You’ve got a fairytale fake girlfriend and I’ve got a band to keep relevant, neither of us is really out there mingling.”

Dean cleared his throat. “You can take time off—- if you need, you know that right? Hell, find somebody’s discarded boyfriend backstage and burn off some steam or something. ‘S one of the perks of a tour.---- But take care of yourself first, alright?”

You look up at the ceiling at the rows of spotlights Dean installed, once upon a time, that framed the island and sighed. “I’m not discussing my sex life with you— like— ever again.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. We’ll have a sleepover and braid Sam’s hair.”

You sputtered and then went back to dishing up your food.

“Muérdeme, Dean. Then we’d have to listen to all the kinky shit him and Madison are into, no thank you.”

“Touche.”

You heard Dean’s phone buzz with a notification. The metaphorical clock struck twelve.

“That’s Bela, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Okay, well, it’s been fun.”

You inhaled and sent him off, “go get ‘em, champ.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks again for the birthday shenanigans. I’ll see you next week?”

“I’ll be at rehearsal, but I’ve got calls and stuff scheduled throughout the day.”

“Sounds good. Have a good one.”

“You too.”

Something lingered between you in the silence and before you could say something you’d regret, you finally ended the call. It almost felt like he was waiting you out, making sure not to be the one that hung up first.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

#spotless series #dean winchester fanfiction #dean/reader #dean/bela #slow burn #rockstar au #fake dating #dean winchester fluff

[yoojinluv]

#I keep having these sleep paralysis symptoms (?) #the other day I woke in the middle of the night and I was so sure that someone had been whispering in my ear #saying my name and something else #when I shook that off and tried to fall back asleep I suddenly felt that someone was grabbing my arms and holding them down #and just last night I woke up because I was so sure there was someone running down my hallway toward my bedroom #and so I try to fall back asleep but I hear footsteps again #then I’m awake again #so I try to get to sleep once more and as I drift off I hear someone barreling down the hallway and they get in bed with me #in my dream (?) state I fugue it’s my ex bf and I say ‘you scared me’ #but I fully come into consciousness and no one’s there at all #after that #I tried to sleep again but every time I’d start to drift off I’d feel this immense pressure on my body like I was slipping away or somethin #something horrible would happen #. I had to scroll on my phone for a bit before I could actually get back to sleep #but anyway #all of this has had me thinking #I am currently living (still) with my ex bf at the moment #I need to decide if I’ll get a place for myself or if I’ll move back in with my parents #but idk how I’d cope dealing with this sort of thing in an empty house all by myself #honestly sleeping in my own empty house has always scared me #part of me is excited by the idea of having my own place #since I’ve never had a place just for myself before #but another part of me is frightened by the challenges I would face #I do get lonely #and I’m a bit scared of how I’d cope with that #choosing to stay with my parents would be a safe option #but I’m not sure id be too happy with myself if I decided to do that… #definitely at a crossroads here

[thylacines-toybox]

Hey, I found a beanie boo that I liked the design of but I can't stand those giant uguu eyes. Do you think it would be possible to replace them with smaller safety eyes akin to the old beanie babies? If yes, do you have any advice?

I was gonna answer this in a normal way, but then I got curious about trying it for myself and thought I might as well demonstrate!

So, I went and picked up a guy from the supermarket. The selection there was pretty barren today but I found a decent test subject:

Eye replacement procedure below!

(First of all, to my friend who loves beanie boos, I am so sorry for this lmao)

So! First I opened up the closing seam on his back. However, I found an extra mesh barrier inside! Clearly this is to prevent bean escape since this is the most likely seam to accidentally pop open through play. This would be a bit annoying to work around so I just sewed it back up and went in the back of the head instead…

Opened and unstuffed the head…

…And turning it inside out to get to the backs of the eyes. Whoa, these plastic washers are the biggest I’ve ever seen!! Cutting through them will take some work!

Please be very careful of your fingers cutting through these!! Be careful not to cut the fabric around the eye too, but mostly be careful of yourself!

Anyway grrrrrrr attack attack slice slice grrrr

They’re out! With a little glue I think the washers would be able to hold on perfectly well again. I’ll keep these eyes to reuse on something where they’ll be a bit more proportional!

The washers on these eyes are particularly cup shaped, fitting around the back of the eye and holding the fabric tightly against them. Now that the eyes are removed, this has left imprints on the fur!

Plenty of brushing and rumfling will help to fix the creased and flattened areas of fur, and wetting the fur or gently steaming over a hot cup of water should help too. It might take a little time!

(Also, I did make a little cut in the cheek while removing a washer, oops! No worries, that can be stitched up.)

Now we can try on a few new eye styles! Restuff the head for now so you can see how they’ll look.

I have a few sizes of solid black, from teeny dots to absolute tbh creature…

These blue eyes were a little scary… no thanks!

I even have some glittery ones like the original, but smaller! Pretty nice actually!

And even some googly eyes hehehe!

But my favourite eyes were some basic 9mm black ones! They are placed a little funny here, but the position will change a little bit…

The holes left by the original eyes were very big, so a couple of stitches are needed on each one to tighten them up to fit the new eyes. I stitched the top outer corners, to move the holes down and inwards a bit. If you wanted, you could even sew them closed completely and make new eye holes elsewhere!

Unstuff again and pop those new eyes in!

Restuff! You might actually need to add a little extra stuffing, as the fabric not being so pulled around the eyes any more will mean it is a little ‘baggier’.

Then sew the head closed again and that’s about it! The fur is still a little creased around mine, but I’ll keep working at it and it should become less visible.

To add a tiny bit more shape to the big round head, I also did a touch of threadsculpting. I ran a thread from the corner of each eye to below the chin and back, just pulling the eyes in a tad more. You might decide you don’t need this!

And there we go! Hope you’ll try it yourself!

#thyl-ask-ine #toys #plushie #modded toy #plushie modification #plushie advice #beanie babies #beanie boo

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Pinky Promise

Pinky Promise 2

Part 3

Summary: Jake gets a call in the middle of the night asking for a ride home. But it’s who is asking that makes him worried.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Another request knocked out! Currently working on part 2 of Beautiful Stranger and might have plans for continuing this one depending on if you all like it. Thank you so much for reading! -C

You were a little on the tipsy side as you squinted at your phone trying to make out the numbers on it. With them moving as much as they were, it was near impossible to type in a correct phone number. Instead, you opened your contacts and scrolled down to your brother’s name.

The smart thing to do would be to call him for a ride, but the more drunk side of you could only think about the nagging you would get on the way home and probably the month following. So, you scrolled up and down your contacts deciding on who would be the lucky winner to receive a call at 1 in the morning.

Jake groaned as he heard his phone going off. He blindly reached for it and squinted at the bright screen, trying to decipher who the hell would be calling at this hour. He had to be up in a few hours to get ready for another day of trying to get through the near impossible assignment, so unless it was an emergency, he was ignoring it.

The number that flashed on his screen wasn’t one he had seen before. He almost wrote it off as a wrong number or another spam call, but something told him to answer it. The area code was one he knew and a call this late on a Saturday might mean something is going on. So, instead of rolling over and enjoying the few hours of sleep he had left, he answered the mystery number.

“Seresin.”

“Oh shit! That’s the Jake that’s in this phone? Why would he put that number in here?” The voice was female and sounded somewhat familiar but was clearly drunk.

“Sorry to disappoint. Who is this?” Jake was kicking himself for answering it now, having the person insult him within two seconds of talking.

“Ah. Look, you have to promise not to tell my brother anything. Like pinkly swear and everything.” Jake was too tired to entertain childish requests, but the first part of the statement finally sunk in. The only one on the team who had a sister near base was Bradley. Fuck.

“Y/N? Is that you?” He needed the confirmation before freaking out. What did she do that warranted keeping her brother in the dark?

“I am not answering that question until you promise me.” He sat up in bed, turning on the lamp next to him. There was no way this wasn’t her.

“Alright. I promise I won’t tell him right now. Can you tell me what’s going on?” He was hoping she was too drunk to catch how he promised.

“Fine. I’m at this bar with my friend and I played wingman a little too well and she left with this guy. I mean good for her. She just got over this really bad breakup and needed to get laid.” Jake had gotten out of bed and put the phone on speaker as he got dressed. Something told him he was going to have to pick you up from somewhere. That’s if you managed to stop getting sidetracked.

“Anyway, I have this thing about not liking to get in Ubers by myself and it’s a long ass walk back to my apartment.” Jake had grabbed his keys at this point and was walking out the door.

“Where are you? I’m on my way.” He turned on his truck and waited for a response.

“Shoot. Well, we started at one place and now this is place three. No place four. You know what, let me ask because I have no idea.” Jake sighed and shook his head. He had heard stories from Bradley about his younger sister and how reckless you were. Or at least that’s the way he described you. He always kept you on a tight leash, trying his hardest to keep you out of trouble.

But Jake thought you just wanted to have some fun. One of his sisters went through a phase like this and it was best to keep a close eye on them but never push them. For reasons like this.

You told him the name of the bar and he was on his way. “I’ll be there in about 15 minutes. Are you okay to wait inside for me?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I need to finish this water anyway.” Jake told you to call if something came up but he shouldn’t be long.

It wasn’t but 5 minutes later his phone started ringing again. He saved your number as Baby Bradshaw, knowing that this probably wouldn’t be the last time you called him.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Are you close?” As casual as you tried to sound, Jake could hear a slight bit of urgency.

“Five minutes away. Everything alright?” The hesitation that followed his question told him everything he needed to know. But he waited for your response before he pushed the issue further.

“Umm, it’s probably nothing. Just this guy by the bar keeps giving me this look and it’s making me feel a bit uncomfortable. But I’m also drunk and a tiny bit paranoid.” Jake pushed the accelerator down a bit further, breaking a few laws in order to get to you faster. He wasn't going to be blamed for getting the youngest Bradshaw in trouble.

“I’ve always been told to listen to your gut.” He heard the hum on the other end of the line as he blew through a red light.

“My gut is telling me they want tacos.” Jake couldn’t stop the laugh that came out.

“We can get you tacos on the way home, sweetheart. Now do me a favor and stand where a lot of people can see you. People like security or a bouncer. Can you do that for me?” He heard you hum again.

“Slight problem. He is following me now.” Jake’s heart started to beat faster and knew he needed to get there now.

“Shit. What did Bradley say. Thumb out, use your knuckles.” He shook his head trying to figure out what the hell you were saying. But it clicked a second too late.

“No don’t-“ He heard commotion on the other line and parked his truck right outside the bar. Flying out the door, he nearly ran into you as you were standing by the entrance with a bouncer blocking a guy with blood running from his nose from getting close to you.

Jake grabbed you before you could get around the bouncer and pulled you outside. “I told you to stay the hell away from me, you creep!” You were yelling at the guy all the way outside, letting him know you weren’t to be messed with. He wanted to go back in there and show the guy what happens when you mess with innocent people, but he knew leaving your side wouldn’t be for the best.

When the two of you were next to his truck, Jake let go and looked you over. Your face had a red tint to it from what he assumed had just happened, but besides that you looked to be in one piece. That was until he saw your eyes start to water.

He put a hand under your chin and lifted your head up. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You sniffed a few times and wiped the tear that managed to escape. “Bradley didn’t say how much it hurts to hit someone.”

Jake bit back a smile and looked down at your hand. While it was a bit red and would surely bruise tomorrow, it didn’t look too bad.

“He probably didn’t think you would ever have to do that. Why don’t we get you back home and you can tell me what happened.” He watched you nod your head and opened his passenger door for you, closing it when you were in.

He waited a few minutes after you were on the road before asking questions. “Want to tell me why you called me instead of your brother?”

You shook your head at the question. “Have you met my brother? It would be nonstop nagging for God knows how long. Anyone else seemed like the better option.” You paused as you remembered exactly who you were with.

“I will say I didn’t expect him to put your name in my phone. He seems to have a strong dislike for you.” Jake smirked at what you had said and shrugged his shoulders.

“He probably knew I had sisters and would do anything to make sure they were alright. Regardless on who they were related to.” You thought this over and nodded your head. It wasn’t long until the next question came.

“What happened at the bar?” You felt his eyes on you and knew he was more concerned than curious.

“The guy I told you was giving me weird looks ended up following me to the door. He stopped me and tried to grab my hand and even though I pulled it away, he kept coming at me. I don’t know, I guess I just felt like I needed to do something to stop him.” You missed the way Jake’s hands tightened on the steering wheel or the clench in his jaw.

“He was lucky I was 30 seconds behind, or he would’ve gotten more than a broken nose.” You looked over and saw how serious he was. A look your brother wore all too often.

“How long until you tell bird boy what happened?” Jakes eyes caught yours and you saw the conflict in them.

“If I was him, I would want to know something happened to my sister. But I will at least drop you off before I call him. Keep your phone on silent and say you fell asleep. That way you can push it off until he gets off tomorrow.” He heard your sigh but that was the end of that.

It was silent in the car until he heard you say, “I’m not as stupid as my brother makes me out to be.” Stupid was never a word he would have used to describe you. A little carefree maybe, but you knew what you were doing.

“I see someone who wants to have a little fun in their life while they can. Nothing wrong with that.” He glanced over to you to see you playing with your injured hand.

“You’re not as bad as they make you out to be either. Besides my brother, not many people would come and get me when they have to be up soon.” Jake held back a wince when he saw the time. A coffee run in the morning would be needed. Maybe he could talk Natasha into picking him up some from that place she always went to.

He pulled into your apartment complex and parked as close to your building as he could.

“Hey, sweetheart. You can call me anytime you need help, okay? I know your brother and I are not on great terms, but I know he would help me out when family is involved.” You gave him a small smile and thanked him for the ride.

He waited until you closed the door before he backed out of the parking lot, trying to figure out what he was going to say to Bradley. It was nearing 2am and calling him was oit of the question. So, he sent a simple text.

Hey man. Your sister called a random number in her contacts tonight and didn’t realize it was me. She needed a safe ride home and that exactly what I did. We can talk about it more at base, but wanted to let you know she is safe. -Hangman

He went to put his phone down when a text popped up. He prayed Bradley wasn’t awake, wanting to push the rest of that conversation off. But instead, it was baby Bradshaw with the text You never got me tacos.

Jake laughed out loud replying that he owes you some in the near future. With a spitfire attitude that you had, Jake saw the two of you becoming good friends. That’s if Bradley didn’t lock you up after tonight’s events.

A/N: Not too sure how I felt about this one but thinking about doing a Jake and Y/N friend series. Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? Thank you for reading!

Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticcassidy

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #topgun maverick #top gun maverick #chelsea writes #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

[loveluvrs]

she's my pretty girl l lando norris x reader

request/summary – AHH HI MARYAM!!! it's shelbi:) i NEED a lando fic where he takes reader to the paddock for the first time and EVERYONE sees they totally like each other (but they complete oblivious idiots) — 🌟

author's notes – i loved writing this one!!! thank you to bff @keerysfreckles for the wonderful req <33 ALSO LANDO SPRINT POLE WOOOOO!!!!!

My fingers hover over the send button. I sigh as I delete the message again. Lan, I don’t know if I can. There’s gonna be so many cameras and so many people and you know people will think we’re dating for sure, I text my best friend Lando.

Come on, pretty girl, I’ll be right there with you the whole time. I promise, he texts back.

:(( come over tonight for movie night and we’ll talk about it, I text as I felt the anxiety already growing in me.

Lando helps me set up movie night. Popcorn bowl in hand, I slot myself next to Lando, our hips touching as I slightly lean into him, placing the bowl in between us. “Time to talk?” He asks expectantly. I groan. “Oh come on, let me at least distract myself for a little bit before we start this headache of a discussion again,” I say as I scrunch up my face in playful annoyance. Lando laughs at this, placing a small kiss on the tip of my nose as he says, “okay miss dramatic.” 

I pout. “Lan, you know how my anxiety gets. And that’s just in general. With all those cameras on me? I mean, it’s gonna be suffocating,” I say with a nervous gulp. Just thinking about all the attention made me anxious.

He puts on a soft smile. “I know, pretty girl. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I just know you’ve been really wanting to go to a race, and I thought what better time than here in Silverstone so you don’t have to take any extra flights? But really, I won’t make you go unless you’re comfortable with it, alright?” He says softly with 100% focus and attention and determination in his voice. That was one thing I could always count on; if I was feeling anxious about something, no matter how small, Lando would be there to take me seriously and comfort me through it. 

“I want to be there for you, you know I do,” I say softly with a frown, “there’s nothing I want to do more than support my best friend, my favorite person, at his home race.” 

“Pretty pretty girl, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I understand, okay? And I won’t think anything less of you based on whether or not you come. I’ll still love you all the same,” he says softly as he puts my hand in his and squeezes it to comfort me. 

——

The next morning, I showed up to the paddock a little late, since I had to curb an oncoming anxiety attack in the morning. I also hadn’t told Lando that I was going to be coming, so I had no idea where to go. By the time I reached, Lando was already in the car for the first practice session. 

After the practice session was over, Lando stalked back into the Mclaren garage, talking with his race engineer about some of the data they picked up. He stops in his tracks when he sees me and immediately engulfs me in a hug. His hands wrap around my waist and my arms wrap around his neck. 

“Hey! I didn’t know you decided to come?” He says with his signature bright smile as he held me close. I hum. “I was just a bit late in the morning, sorry about that,” I say softly. “Nothing to be sorry about, pretty girl,” he says softly as he places a soft kiss on the top of my head before letting me go. 

Since that moment, unless he was in a team meeting or in the car, Lando stayed attached by the hip to you. You couldn’t decide if it was comforting or overwhelming, to be honest. On one hand, he made sure to be there so he could explain everything to you and introduce you to everyone, and whisk you away when he felt like it was getting all too much for you. On the other hand, his presence meant a herd of cameras would almost surely follow my every move if I was with him. 

Oscar, for one, got a bit tired of the fact that every time he saw his teammate, Lando was too busy making heart eyes at you to even think about anything else. “Why don’t you just admit you’re madly in love with her?” He asks Lando with an exasperated sigh after the two of them are walking back from a media briefing. 

“She knows I love her,” Lando says casually. Oscar rolls his eyes and scoffs at the response. “Okay she knows you love her, but she doesn’t know you’re in love with her,” he explains. Lando gives Oscar a confused look. “Mate, you’ve just said the same thing twice,” he says as his eyes begin to scan the crowd for you. Oscar groans before walking off in frustration, wondering when on Earth these two idiots were gonna realize they’re both in love with each other. 

Later that evening, Lando and I walk into his hotel room after he was done with everything for the day. I lay down in the bed immediately, exhausted from all the socializing I had to do all day. Lando laughs at this, “sleepyhead,” he teases in a murmur. He takes a quick shower and changes into a comfy hoodie and sweats before coming back and laying on the bed next to me. I’m sat watching some spy movie on the tv. He tilts his head at the tv, “what’re you watching?” He asks curiously. 

“Honestly, no idea,” I say with a giggle, “I just saw that Theo James was in it so I had to watch.” Lando settles into bed as we watch. Eventually, he finds my gaze on him and his lap, which was clearly not as subtle as I wanted it to be. He nudges me playfully with his elbow. “C’mere,” he says softly as he pats his lap. I, who was clearly in my own thoughts, seemed to wake up out of my trance. “Huh?” I ask in confusion. He holds his arms wide for me, “come here and cuddle,” he says softly.

I waste no time before doing as he says, laying in between his legs, my back to his chest. His arms wrap around my waist and he places a soft kiss on my head. I hum in content as I relax into him. Lando always knew when I needed some physical affection, which was useful because there was nothing I hated more than having to ask for some love. “I love you,” he whispers as his face burrows into my neck, placing a kiss there. I’m about to respond when Oscar suddenly enters the room. “Hey mate, have you seen my- uh. Sorry, am I interrupting something here?” He asks as his eyes dart between Lando and I, and the extremely close position we seem to be in. 

“Nope! Just cuddling. What’s up?” Lando asks nonchalantly. Oscar’s eyebrows raise at Lando’s answer. “You know what, never mind, I think I know where I’ve left it,” he says as he slowly backs out of the room. 

“What was that all about?” I ask in confusion. “Hmm, who knows, he’s been acting weird all day,” Lando says as he resumes placing kisses on my neck and shoulder. “I love you,” he repeats again in a gentle tone. I hum. “I love you too,” I say softly. “I’m so insanely happy you decided to come to the paddock today, honestly,” he says in a quiet yet soft murmur, “don’t think I could be any happier than having my pretty girl with me.” “Why are you trying to flatter me?” I tease him with a giggle. He scoffs, “sorry. Didn’t know I couldn’t be nice to my best friend,” he retorts playfully.  

We go out for dinner an hour later with Oscar and Lily. I instinctively sat next to Lando as usual. I’m scrolling through Twitter while we wait for our food when I feel Lando’s hand intertwine with mine. I think nothing of it, but see Oscar and Lily exchange a glance towards each other. 

“You owe me 5 pounds,” Oscar whispered in a hushed voice to Lily with a sassy smile tugging on his lips. “No, you said 5 pounds for the heart eyes,” Lily whispers back defensively. “Oh come on, that’s basically the same thing! It’ll happen in a few minutes anyways,” Oscar whispers playfully. “I so badly wanted us to be proven wrong and for something to happen,” Lily says quietly to Oscar in a sympathetic voice. “They’re both idiots, I don’t think either of them will figure it out,” he says with a laugh. 

The laugh catches both Lando and I’s attention as we look up from our phones. “Hmm? Did you two say anything to us?” Lando asks curiously. “Oh, uh no. Don’t worry about it,” Oscar says with an embarrassed smile. The rest of the night goes by with hushed remarks from Oscar every once in a while every time Lando does something like giving me some of his own dish since my portion size was small, or when he asks if I’m okay after I drop the fork under the table and hit my head on the table when I try sitting back up, or when he just simply listens to me like I’m the only person in the room. 

——

“You’ve been staring at her for five minutes now,” Oscar says as Lando stares at you from across the paddock as you talk to Lewis. “Shut up,” Lando mutters as he tries to sound annoyed by utterly fails because he could never be annoyed while you were in his line of sight. 

I walk up to him a minute later, a bright smile on my face. “Guess what!” I say excitedly as Lando’s hand instinctively wraps around my waist. He hums. “Tell me what’s got you all happy, pretty girl,” he says with a soft smile.

“Lewis said that he’d take me out tonight to visit that new café I was telling you about, remember?” I say excitedly. Lando immediately frowns. “Lewis? Why didn’t you ask me to take you there?” He asks as he tries to not let his jealousy show. “Well I know you aren’t really into that type of thing, I looked at the menu and you wouldn’t have eaten anything there,” I say casually. 

“Well still. I don’t care. I’m coming with,” Lando said with a tone of finality. Suddenly Oscar started speaking. “Guys did you know theres a new movie coming out with Zendaya? The Jealous Man?” He says with a look towards Lando. Lando took the hint with an unamused expression on his face. “You know what? I think I’ve got a team thing tonight, so I’ll have to skip out. Sorry pretty girl, but have fun with Lewis, hmm?” He says softly. “You sure? We can wait for you if you want,” I say softly, not wanting Lando to miss out if he wanted to go. Lando shakes his head. “Nah nah nah, even if you wait, I’d be far too tired later,” I says as he takes my hand in his. 

——

Lando sat staring at his phone while he sits in his hotel room’s bed. He had tried everything to keep him occupied; working out, eating, the sim, talking to Oscar, facetiming Max, but nothing could keep his mind off of the thought of you and Lewis together. He groans as he caves in, texting you. 

pretty girlllllllllll, where are you? I miss you :(, he texts with clear desperation in his text. 

hi! Lewis and I are gonna go for a walk on the beach before heading back. Is that okay? I text, not wanting him to feel too lonely while I was gone. 

Lando sighed at my message. yeah don’t worry, pretty girl, have fun, he texts back, I love you. 

When I finally get back to the hotel, I’m exhausted. I kick off my shoes to find Lando already asleep. I get changed into some sweats and lie next to him. “Lan?” I whisper softly, “‘m sorry I was late, I know you missed me.” I sighed when I got no reply back, so I simply scooted towards him, my arms wrapping around him from behind. “I love you,” I whispered into the dark. I heard a slight grumble afterwards. “Love you too,” came a murmur from Lando. 

The next morning I met Lando and Oscar at the paddock before qualifying, but Lando seemed a bit distant. So I went up to him while he was talking to Oscar

“Are you mad I went out to spend time with Lewis instead of you last night?” I ask Lando in a quiet voice with a frown on my face.

Lando turned around to face me. “Oh, pretty girl, I could never be mad at you,” he says as his voice softens, “I love you. Just missed you, that’s all.” “You’ve been ignoring me this whole morning,” I say as my frown deepens. His entire body deflates at the sight of your frown. “No no no, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to. Sorry if it felt like that,” he says softly as his hands wrap around my waist to give me a hug. “Love you,” he murmurs into my hair, “I promise.” 

Oscar rolls his eyes at the scene with an amused laugh. “Heart eyes, five pounds,” he mouths behind Lando, knowing that Lando would have melted the second you came into view. 

“God, these two will stay idiots forever,” Oscar muttered under his breath with a laugh as he looked at the very obviously love-stricken pair in front of him. 

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris oneshot #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

[ellecdc]

Love, i hope youre staying hydrated 🩵

A poly!wolfstar idea that lives rent free is that Rem, for lack of a better word, hoards Siri and Reader as it gets closer to the fullmoon/ a specific type of moon. Like a dragon. Hes so openly, aggressively affectionate too and is much more likely to mamhandle them

thank you all for constantly reminding me to drink more water - you're my heroes.

poly!WolfStar x fem!reader

CW: territorial boyfriend, slight jealousy, dom/sub dynamics if you squint but SFW

You weren’t hiding. Not really...

But you were also sort of kind of definitely hiding.

You loved your boyfriends, both of them, so damn much. And for the majority of the month, it was Sirius driving the two of you up the wall (affectionately). But as the night of the full moon dragged closer and closer, you and Sirius could hardly move without Remus’ sights set on you.

Most of the time, you and Sirius handled Moony’s obsession quite well in your humble opinion; you usually relished in his neediness and all the affection he showered on you. 

But exam season was around the corner, and you were currently hanging on by a thread.

Anything and everything that could have gone wrong today did; you got a run in your sheer tights at breakfast, you only received an acceptable on your most recent essay for Charms, you dropped your potion during class which spilt on your shoes, and you forgot your textbook for Transfiguration which earned you house points and detention.

So, you loved Remus – truly, you would die for him – but you needed to get this redraft of your essay for Potions finished (using the corrections you received on your dreadful Charms essay) and you could not deal with Sirius’ non-stop flirting and joking which you knew you’d have to deal with if you let Remus drag you up to his dorm room as he wont to do.

So, you were hiding.

Definitely hiding.

In the furthest corner in the library that you could manage which was probably not the best hiding place from the studious, book-loving lycanthrope – but you were too desperate to be making effective plans right now.

You probably should have tried a little harder.

“There you are.” Remus’ lilting voice floated to you in your little corner of solitude. 

“Hey, Moons.” You called quietly as he approached you and placed a searing kiss to your lips, his hand at the nape of your neck keeping your head in place for him.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were avoiding me.” He whispered against your lips with a smirk.

Your face flooded with heat at the prospect of being caught, but Remus just chuckled and pressed another kiss to your lips before he pulled back and took a seat beside you. 

“Where’s Sirius?” You asked.

Remus looked at you from the corner of his eye as he pulled out a book from his bag. “Practice, why?”

You felt your shoulders drop in relief at the idea that you may actually be able to finish this essay before Sirius came to (lovingly) distract you.

Remus hummed at you as a grin grew across his face. “Ah, perhaps it’s not necessarily me you’re avoiding?”

Your face heated again at the mortifying ordeal of being known.

“I love him, I love you, I love you both, but I-” 

“Hey,” Remus interrupted what was quickly becoming an increasingly panicked tangent as he slid his hand into yours. “It’s okay dovey, you do what you need to do. I’ll try to control myself and keep Sirius busy, okay?”

And Remus kept his word...mostly.

He had his hand on you at all times: it started with your hand in his before you needed to pull it away to flip through your parchment, which became a solid grip on your thigh as he continued reading before that hand began to migrate further up your thigh and tease around the bottom of your skirt to which you whined “Moony” at and pushed his hand away. 

It was when Remus - apparently provoked by some younger Hufflepuff allegedly “making googly eyes at you” from across the aisle - hauled you into his lap and began nipping at your neck that you decided you had gotten all the revising you were going to get done today, done.

“Hungry, dove?” He asked into your neck.

You wanted to roll your eyes, but the way his hands wrapped around your middle to envelop you in a sweet hug as he murmured into the crook of your neck made you melt a little.

“Yeah.”

You could feel him smile against your skin and press one more kiss to it before he was helping you off of his lap and packing your things up. “Let’s go to dinner then.”

Remus held your hand and carried your bag all the way to the Great Hall before all but seating you himself and pressing himself up against your side on the bench of the Gryffindor table.

Lily smirked at you from her place before ensuring no one around could hear her.

“If I hadn’t known it was Remus’ time of the month already, this would have solidified it for me.” She said with a salacious wink.

You tried to glare at her, but Remus took that moment to shove his face back into the crook of your neck causing you to flush and duck your head shyly.

You heard boisterous laughing at the entrance to the Great Hall as the Gryffindor quidditch team made their way in from their practice.

You smirked at the sight, specifically Sirius, who had obviously showered - his hair was still damp, and his cheeks were still flushed a pretty pink from the adrenaline of his flight.

A gruff moan from your boyfriend seated beside you alerted you to his shared appreciation of the scenery.

However, Sirius flashed the two of you a smirk and a wink before following McKinnon over to the Ravenclaw table where Dorcas was sitting with Pandora.

Remus tensed slightly but settled for pulling your closer into his side.

It didn’t last long, however, when a particular bark of laughter garnered yours and Remus’ attention only to find Sirius talking to a Ravenclaw girl everyone knew had a raging crush on him.

Now, it’s important to note that Sirius was not deceitful nor disloyal to you and Remus, but he was mischievous and... bratty... sometimes.

Usually, you and Remus would scoff and laugh, and he’d tell you he would deal with this later causing Sirius to pout and whine, begging for attention – but today Remus immediately rose from his seat and grabbed both of your book bags, calling over a hasty “let’s go dove” as he stalked over to the Ravenclaw table to throw your shared boyfriend over his shoulder and stalk up to Gryffindor tower. 

You knew Sirius was going to pay for it tonight. 

#ask elle #marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #sirius black #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #poly!wolfstar #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!wolfstar x you #wolfstar x reader #wolfstar x you #ellecdc fics

[sinnersweets]

DogDay x Reader part 10

<;-----part 9, part 11----->

A/N: Don't hate me for this...

One of the doctors stopped by my room and handed me some clothes and a towell that I could change into after I bathe myself. They offered to have someone help me out, but I kindly declined and told them that I could manage on my own. Once they left, I moved to the edge of the bed and crabbed onto the crutches. I take one step and DogDay comes into the room. “Hey Angel-woah hey whatcha doing?” “Hi, I’m just making my way to the bathtub.” DogDay closes the door and walks over to me. “Oh nonono Angel. I will not allow you to do that. I’ll carry you.” “It’s fine really-” Too late. He picked me up and set the crutches down. He carried me over to the bathroom. “Thank you.” “Of course, anything for my Angel.”  

Now knowing that he liked me hearing him call me that made my heart flutter. Once we made it into the bathroom, he sat me down onto the chair that was in there. “There we go! Now I’ll go ahead and give you some privacy, but I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything Angel.” Before he stepped out, he placed a kiss on top of my head. Once he stepped out he closed the door but left a the door cracked open just a smidgen. “Uh-” “It’s just so I can hear you better Angel; cross my heart I will not peak.” I chuckled lightly and knew that he would be true to his word.  

--------------- 

Removing this gown I was given took a little longer than I would like to admit but once I did, I carefully moved myself into the tub; making sure to keep my cast out so as not to get it wet. I turned on the faucet and let the tub fill up with nice steaming hot water. I also threw in some bubbles because why the heck not. Since I was just washing my body, it should've taken me maybe five to seven minutes, but it’s been so long since I got to relax in a bath that I decided to take advantage of this. 

“You doing okay in there Angel?” “Yes.” I sighed before saying, “Just relaxing. The water feels great.” I continued to sit in the tub for maybe another forty-five minutes before the water started to get cold. “Seems like the fun is over now.” I heard DogDay chuckle from behind the door. I let the water drain and reached over for my towel-which was not here with me. Shoot. I left that and my clothes on the bed. “Hey DogDay?” “Yes Angel?” “I uh- haha, left my towel and clothes on the bed. You wouldn’t mind grabbing them would you?” I could hear that DogDay had stood up and walked over to the bed as his voice sounded further away than normal. “Not a problem at all Angel.”  

When DogDay walked away I realized that I had made a grave mistake. He would have to come in here and set the clothes down and I had drained the water!! Frig. “I’m back Angel-” “Hey haha so little problem; I-um need you to come in and hand me the towel and clothes while also not looking. Please.” DogDay didn’t say anything but the bathroom door opened up more and I saw that he placed his ears over his eyes. “Does this help Angel?” “Haha yes, just be careful when you come in.” DogDay nodded and carefully came in and set the clothes down. The towel was still in his hand when he asked me, “Do you need any help getting out of the tub Angel?” I thought for a moment before saying, “No I think I got it.” He nodded and then placed the towel down for me. “I’ll be outside if you need anything else Angel.”  

I reached over and wrapped the towel over myself. I placed my arms on the side of the tub and tried lifting my body out, but I couldn’t seem to do it. This was a lot harder than I thought. “Okay I need help.” “Haha okay; I’m coming back in.” He came back in with his ears covering his eyes again. “Oh, I wrapped myself up so you don’t need to cover your eyes anymore.” His ears fell but his eyes were still shut tight. “You sure it’s okay to look Angel?” I had the towel wrapped around myself pretty good and I could hold onto it if anything. “Yes, it’s fine.” DogDay opened his eyes and smiled down at me. “My my, never thought I’d get to see you like this Angel~” My jaw dropped as I felt myself blush. I was not expecting that at all. “Haha oh Angel, you are too easy to tease. It’s cute.” He leaned down and picked me up. “I-I was just caught off guard is all...” Though his comment gave me butterflies. He set me back down on the chair before leaving to let me get dressed. “Once you get dressed get ready Angel.” “Ready? Ready for what?” “The show silly!” Ah right. The show that I was in but no longer in because of Bobby. 

--------------- 

I told DogDay that he didn’t need to carry me all the way down to the theater room and I was cable of using the crutches, but he just kept saying, “No no I wanna carry you. Plus who doesn’t want to be carried by a strong man or dog.” I couldn’t argue with that.  

--------------- 

When we made it to the theater room I decided to tell DogDay that Bobby was the one who injured me but he said he already knew. “You knew?” “Yeah; CatNap told me. He tried to stop her but she started waving a cucumber in front of him and it scared him away. When he finally got enough courage to stand up to her you were already on the ground. But not to worry Angel; we’ve got something planned for her.” “We’ve?” “Yep.” I thought he would say something else, but he didn’t. 

DogDay sat me down in the front row. “Alright Angel. I must go get ready.” “Wait- before you go-” I grabbed onto his arm and pulled him down and gave him a kiss on his nose. “Mwah. Okay now you can go.” I smiled while saying that. DogDays tail wagged and if this was a cartoon I swear there would be hearts over his head while his pupils take a form of a heart. “Now I don’t wanna go.” He pouted while speaking. “I’m sorry, but I promise to give you another kiss after the show.” This cheered him up instantly. “Til then, my Angel~” He kissed my hand before walking off behind the stage. 

--------------- 

After thirty minutes the theatre started to fill up with the rest of the children and helpers. I then spotted this couple walking in. They headed up towards the front near me. “Pardon me dear but are these spots taken?” The lady asked me. “No ma’am.” She smiled before her and I’m guessing her husband took a seat. While she sat down, she glanced over me and saw the cast I was wearing. “Oh my, what happened to you dear?” “Hm? Oh- I had a little accident on stage. I was supposed to play Belle but then I fell.” I didn’t want to tell her about what happened because she likely wouldn’t understand it. “Oh, that’s just terrible. Pardon me for saying this dearie but I don’t see how this show can be well without you in it, haha.” Hearing her say that made me smile. “Thank you, ma’am, but I’m sure my understudy will do her best.” “I doubt it.” The lady said before turning her attention to her husband. She was nice and sweet. I liked her.” 

--------------- 

Watching the show made my blood boil. We were at the part where Belle refuses to have dinner with Beast but that is not at all how it was going. Bobby kept agreeing to it which threw DogDay, Damian, Henry and Miss Delight off script. Though she kept throwing everyone off they all did a wonderful job of not breaking character. 

--------------- 

It was now the part where Belle was tending to Beasts wounds, and I almost wanted to hop up on stage and fight her. “By the way~ I want to thank you for saving my life~” Bobby spoke while getting really and I mean really close to DogDays face. DogDay leaned back, clearly uncomfortable.  

The curtains closed and the lights came on. “Alright everyone! We will now take a fifteen minute intermission.” The sound of Miss Delights voice echoed through the theater. “You know; it looks like that bear up there actually likes the dog.” The lady next to me spoke out. “Haha; you have no idea.” “I’m running to the ladies room sweetie I’ll be right back.” She spoke to her husband. He knodded and she got up and walked away. 

Once she left he leaned over and said, “So which kid were you thinking of adopting?” That caugt me off guard. “Pardon?” “That’s why you’re here right? To see which kid you want?” I looked behind me and saw a few more couples out in the crowd talking to some of the kids. “No sir I actually work here.” “Oh I see, my mistake.” He then leaned back into his chair and twiddled his thumbs around. These couples were here to look at the kids? I leaned over and asked him, “Which kid were you thinking about?” He laughed before saying, “Oh no me and my wife already picked out a kid we want. He plays one of the furniture's.” My heart stopped. There were only three boys that played that role: Henry, Todd, and Damian. His wife came back after a while and I sat in my seat fearing that they had picked out Damian. 

--------------- 

We were now at the part where Belle and Beast were getting ready for their dance. I couldn’t focus on the show anymore. I kept praying that maybe it was the other two boys but then I didn’t want either of them going away.  

I leaned back in my seat and looked up at the ceiling and almost screamed. CatNap was up on the railings, and it looked like he was holding something with his tail. As I looked back at the stage, I saw DogDays head peak out from the curtain and winked at me before disappearing behind the curtains. What were they up to? 

--------------- 

Watching DogDay and Bobby waltz killed me. Obviously, Bobby was enjoying herself while DogDay continued to look displeased but tried to stay in character.  

--------------- 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity the show was over. And thankfully; DogDay didn’t kiss Bobby at the end. He just gave her a high five which she clearly was not wanting. The curtains closed and everyone in the audience stood up and clapped. The curtains opened and everyone in the play was lined up holding hands and bowing. I gave a thumbs up to Damian and Hoppy while I blew DogDay a kiss. He pretended to catch it and placed it on his nose. 

Everyone then let go of eachother and started walking backwards, everyone except for Bobby who was in her own head. “Oh thank you everyone! Thank you, thank y-” Splash! Bobby was soon covered in white paint. Everyone in the audience gasped but I laughed. Hoppy then hopped around her and threw some confetti on her. “The star of the show deserves some confetti!” Bobby was just looking out into the audience stunned. “Hey BB.” Bobby turned and looked at DogDay. “Never ever come near me or Angel again. KC! You know what to do!” Suddenly the trap door opened, and Bobby fell through. “Hope she had a nice fall haha!” I heard KickenChicken yell from off stage. I knew that it would be a pain in the ass for Edward; Bobbys helper to clean her off. The lady next to me leaned in and whispered, “I wonder who this ‘Angel’ person is because whoever they are it’s clear that he cares deeply for them.” Yeah, he does. “Oh look sweetie that’s him, the one dressed like a candle.” The women spoke out to her husband.  

--------------- 

After a while the cast came down in their normal clothes and thanked everyone for coming. I didn’t have my crutches, so I was stuck in my spot while I saw the couple next to me walk over to Damian. “Hi Ange-” “Damians going to get adopted!” I didn’t mean to interrupt DogDay but I had to tell him. “Wait really?” “Yeah! I was next to the couple who want to adopt him.” I pointed over to where they were and DogDay followed to where I was pointing. 

“They can’t take him DogDay, they just can’t!” “I know Angel, but doesn’t Damian deserve to get adopted and have a family?” “WE’RE his family!” DogDay took my hands and rubbed the top of them. “That may be true Angel, but he’s not legally mine or yours.” I wanted to cry but didn’t because I heard a familiar voice call out my name. 

“Y/N!” Oh dear god no. I turned and saw my mother. Why was she here??! “Um Angel, who’s that?” “My mom...” DogDay swallowed hard. “Y/N oh finally I found you!” She walked up to me and gave me a tight hug. When she let go of me she looked over at DogDay. “And who are you?” “My name is DogDay, pleasure to meet you ma’am.” DogDay extended out a paw to give her a handshake, but my mother just pushed his paw away. “Y/N say goodbye to the dog because you’re coming home with me and your father until you’re all healed up.” “What?!” “What?!” My mom just looked at me and DogDay before saying, “Y/N sweetie you need to rest, and you need to be taken care of-” “I am!” “Nonsense sweetie. I bought a wheelchair for you; I left it in the back of the room. Let me go-” “Mom!” I yelled out to her. “I don’t want to go with you, I want to stay here with-” “Enough! You will not argue with me young lady. I am taking you home and that’s final! Now say goodbye to your...friend while I go get the wheelchair.” 

When she walked away, I had tears in my eyes. DogDays paw touched my face and turned my head towards him. “Angel....” I started to cry and wrapped my arms around DogDay. “I-I don’t want to leave! And-and then Damian, he might get taken away by the time I get back! I-you-you need to make sure he doesn’t leave DogDay, please!” “Angel-” “PLEASE!” DogDay just stared at me before giving me a soft smile. “I’ll do everything I can Angel, you have my word.” 

“I don’t want to leave you.... four weeks of not seeing you....” I continued to cry, and I could tell that DogDay started to get tears in his eyes. “I don’t want you to leave me either Angel; but your mom kinda scares me.” I chuckled and smiled. “Will you miss me?” DogDay then pulled back and held my face while saying, “Angel; I will miss you so much. Not being able to see you every day will break my heart.” Now he started to cry. 

“Y/N! Time to go!” My mom was now next to me with the wheelchair. DogDay picked me up and placed me in the chair. He tried to let go but I held onto him. “Wait.” I grabbed his face, pulled him in and kissed him. Not on his nose, but his lips. It was fast but the few seconds that it happened was indescribable. I didn’t care that my mom just saw me kiss DogDay; it would be a while before I saw him again and I felt like it needed to be done. 

“Tell Damian I’ll see him later, okay?” DogDay only nodded, clearly shocked by the kiss. My mom then started to wheel me away. I looked over and blew him one final kiss before saying, “Goodbye, DogDay.” He caught the kiss and placed it on his lips and said, “Goodbye, my Angel.” 

A/N: As per requested by some of you I will take a break from writing (not really just a day off from this story) and will post part 11 in two days. Thank you for reading!! *runs away*

#sinnersweets #poppy playtime #x reader #dogday #dogday x reader #poppy playtime chapter 3 #bobby bearhug #kicken chicken #catnap #hoppy hopscotch

[paigesluver]

are you accepting request?

if so can you do vinne fluff with a youtuber!reader like filming a day in my life or morning routine?

Thank you!!

hi! this is so very late but i finally decided to upload it. its short but i hope you enjoy it!

day in the life

vinnie hacker x youtuber!reader

“hi besties and welcome back to the channel! today we’re going to be doing a day in my life” y/n spoke towards her camera. 

“i’m literally still in bed so let’s start by getting ready” she said as she moved the covers off her and got up. She walked into the bathroom and set the tripod on the counter. after slipping on her hello kitty headband, she grabbed her toothbrush. 

“do you guys wet the toothbrush and then put the toothpaste on it and wet it again or do you guys put the toothpaste and just brush?” she asked before brushing her teeth and washing her face. she quickly dried it and walked back into her room. 

she made her bed before walking to her closet and grabbing a pair of jeans, a hoodie, and her dunks. she shook out her curls and put on aquaphor. as she was showing her outfit in the mirror, vinnie walked in wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“mhm who are you looking good for and where are you off to?” he said, placing his head on her shoulder. 

“me, myself, and i and we are running errands today” she said emphasizing the we, smiling as she placed the camera on the counter. 

“oh are we now?” he smirked looking down at her. 

“yes we’re going to all our favorite stores and maybe i’ll even throw in a surprise for you” she said, wrapping her around his neck. 

“mmkay may i have a kiss first?” he asked, puckering his lips. 

she giggled leaning up, as their lips were about to connect vinnie covered the camera lens with his hand, kissing her. 

“you’re such a dork” she said, turning off the camera and grabbing his hand walking out towards the kitchen. 

“yeah yeah they don’t need to see all that plus would a dork get you breakfast burritos from your favorite place?” he said smiling as he grabbed her by her waist, setting her on top of the counter. 

she grabbed her food and began eating it as she went over their schedule. 

“Breakfast is done, so we just have to get a few groceries and definitely go to target. Also I want to pick up this new butterfly bag at Coach.”

Vinnie leaned against the counter facing Y/N as he also began eating, listening to their planned day. 

“Okay that sounds doable and like fun” 

She smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

#vinnie hacker #vhackerr #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie x reader #vinnie #estbrat #vinnie hacker x reader #vinne hacker x you #estbrat writes

[ratzmatazz]

I think I got possessed by charlie chaplin and the only way I can tell this story is by greentext I hope you all understand

>be me (20 year old fool) >live in nyc >walking around and realize I haven’t eaten and also need to do some work so I decide to go to a cafe >walk around for like 30 minutes until I finally find one, looks great very peaceful plenty of people working >walk inside order bagel the guy behind the counter is french(???) and he talks slowly but my brain is on autopilot so I look like an asshole who talks too fast because nyc cafes are usually a quick-time event and I'm disrupting the cafe zen I guess >panic order first bagel I see to redeem myself >ice coffee and loaded bagel (whatever that is) is 20 dollars altogether >whatever the place looks nice for work >barista gives me a number stand for my bagel and I walk away and stand in the main space before realizing I need to still get my coffee? Come back looking even more like an asshole >coffee is in incredibly inconvenient glass cup and filled to the brim too >sugar station is right next to barista so he watches me now pour an obscene amount of sugar syrup but very very slowly >sugar syrup pourer is mildly broken and every time I try to get it to flow faster than "pouring cold tar" it squirts a pump onto the table >sit down >realize I’m sitting in their fucking decorative ~aesthetic~ chair and not a real fucking table >spend 2 minutes slowly dragging a table closer before realizing I look insane and moving all my stuff >still sitting in decorative chair during all of this >guy talking to his friend nearby is watching me and trying not to laugh at me out loud >preparing myself for putting the table back and admitting defeat >do not take coffee off of table >stand up for this but the table is lighter than expected and I tilt the table when I try to scoot it back >coffee leans slowly and cartoonishly close to falling over but I quickly scoot the table over and put it down before it can fully tip and ruin me forever >do this routine of up and down table 3 fucking times moving it back >sit down in shame at real table >guy talking to his friend subtly angles himself to be watching me over his friend's shoulder >take out laptop to work and it’s out of power >no biggie I’ll plug it in I even sat next to four power outlets :) >try first one >no good >try next one >all four outlets don’t work. >want to leave but still have bagel so maybe life is good >bagel arrives >no fucking cream cheese on my bagel. >lady who brings out my bagel is an elderly old-school nyc lady who looks at me with barely hidden disgust for my unknowing bagel monstrosity of 99% spring mix, warm cucumber slices, three pieces of bacon, and a fried egg >bagel is too tall for the second bagel piece to go on top of the bagel >trash can is right next to barista so they’ll see me throw out the untouched shameful top of the bagel too >table is also too small for the bagel plate and my laptop and too cramped for me to easily put it away >eat with laptop on lap (top) (haha) >bite bagel >runny yolk >egg bursts >YOLK ALL OVER LAPTOP. >guy still watching me >tiny courtesy napkin to wipe up my egg shame. >humiliating smooth jazz is playing during all of this. >charlie chaplin's ghost finally releases me from my torment.

#greentext #news from the ant hill #original post #god it's really haunting me

[daddyslilchickenfingers2]

Masturbation (Matt)

Request: None

Warnings: Sub Matt, mommy kink, friends to lovers, jacking off, soft dom y/n, praising, whiny Matt, getting caught, choking

Y/n’s pov

Don’t get me wrong, I love living with the triplets but sometimes being the only girl in a house with three rowdy boys can be a lot. Today I had the house to myself so I actually got to sleep in for once and do some cleaning without Chris making a mess two seconds later. After I cleaned up the house a little bit, I took a shower and got ready for a day of editing. I remembered that Matt had asked to borrow my MacBook last night since his was getting fixed but he never returned it.

I specifically told him not to open any folders but I didn’t tell him why, the reasoning behind it was I had folders with different modeling pictures in some of them. Photos that I most definitely did not need Matt or Chris seeing, more specifically they were pictures of me in lingerie for a brand deal that was being used on their website. I decided I would just go get it back since he wasn’t home so I ascended my way up the stairs to his bedroom. Obviously, since he wasn’t home I entered his room without knocking and I was shocked.

Not only was Matt home and in his bedroom, he was sitting at his desk with my laptop open. There on the screen was one of my pictures from the lingerie shoot, more specifically the one where I was wearing the skimpiest set. Matt was shirtless with his sweats and boxers pulled halfway down his thighs, cock in hand as he was jerking off. His eyes were closed and he was quietly moaning as he stroked his big dick, swiping his thumb over the slit every few strokes to spread and use his precum as lube.

He seemed to not hear or notice me come in so I thought I’d have some fun, instead of being mad I was oddly turned on. I walked up behind his chair, placing my hands on his shoulders as I leaned closer to his ear. “What are you doing Matty? I thought I told you not to open my folders?” I spoke in a seductive voice. Matt flinched stilling his movements “I- I- Shit Y/n I’m so so so sorry! Fuck I don-“ he started nervously stuttering, I moved my right hand to wrap around his as I made him resume his previous movements. “I didn’t tell you to stop, c’mon finish what you started” I teased him.

Matt whimpered at my words as I made him slowly move his hand up and down his hard cock. I spun his chair around to face me, loving the embarrassed and nervous look his face held as he avoided eye contact with me, “What happened Matty? I thought you were a good boy?” I pouted at him. His eyes shot up to look at mine “I am a good boy! I promise I am!” I wasn’t expecting Matt to be so submissive but I was loving it. I stopped our hands, removing his from his hard cock as I looked back at him with a gaze that made him squirm “If you were a good boy you would’ve listened to me baby. I guess you just aren’t a good boy huh?” I teased bending down so we were eye level with each other.

The next thing that came out of his mouth shocked me but oddly turned me on even more “No I am, I’m your good boy mommy! Promise I’m your good boy! I’m sorry, please mommy, I didn’t mean to…” he whined as his cheeks turned a deep shade of pink. “But good boys listen Matty, you didn’t listen love” I said while stroking his cheek as his eyes teared up, “I d-don’t wanna b-be a bad boy! I di-didn’t mean to, I-I’m sorry!” He was about to cry and his cock was so hard, dripping precum against his stomach as he desperately tried to apologize.

“I know baby but you didn’t listen to my one rule. I should punish you, just tie you up and edge you until your brothers come back but I’m not that mean. I still think you should be punished though” Matt’s cock twitched, leaking out more precum as I spoke. “I’ll make it up to you mommy! I wanna be your good boy, wanna make you feel good! Please mommy I’m sorry!” he begged as a few tears fell but he was quick to wipe them away.

I took his hands in mine as I stood up, looking down at him I said “Awe it’s okay Matty, don’t cry. You wanna be mommy’s good boy, right?” nodding he pleaded “Please” as he looked up at me, squeezing my hands. I moved some hair out of his face “Go lay down for me baby, you’re gonna let mommy ride you okay?” he quickly stood up pushing his pants down the rest of the way down before fully taking them off.

Matt laid down on the bed, watching me as I teasingly took off my clothes, making Matt whine. I got onto the bed and sat on my knees next to Matt who was staring at me, his eyes scanning over my body as his mouth was slightly opened. “What’s wrong Matty? Never seen a girl naked before?” I teased him while tracing a finger down his chest before going down to slowly stroke his cock, “I- I have, you’re just really pretty. Was just admiring you mommy” he says innocently. “Awe thank you baby” I replied giving him a sweet kiss, “Can I touch you please?” He asked in a sweet voice as I moved to straddle him, spreading my wetness across his hard cock as I grinded down on him. “Only because you asked so nicely my love” I smiled at him pushing his hair back. Matt’s hands came to rest on my hips helping me rock back and forth as I pulled him in for a kiss, quickly dominating it.

I pulled away moving my kisses down his neck, giving him a few hickies before Matt whined “Mommy please, I wanna be inside you, wanna make you feel good” he begged. I nodded and slowly slid down onto his dick pulling a moan from the both of us, “You’re so big Matty, making mommy feel so good” I praised him while I started slowly bouncing up and down. The praising made Matt let out a little whimper as blush spread across his cheeks, “F-feels good, s-so good” he whined out as his hands still firmly held onto my waist, his grip getting tighter as I started riding him faster.

“You’re being such a good boy for me baby, you look so cute underneath me like this. Do you like when mommy rides you Matty?” I praised him some more as he looked up at me, his pupils fully dilated and his lips slightly parted as he let out uneven breaths and whiney moans. He nodded erratically as his nails dug into my hips “Yes! Yes, feels so good! You’re so pretty mommy, ca-can you umm…” Matt moaned out before trailing off and looking anywhere but at me. I moved his chin up so he was looking at me before placing a small kiss on his lips “Can I what, baby? What do you want me to do?” I asked him while pushing some of his hair back.

We were both getting close, I could tell by Matts increased breathing and moans, “Can y-you choke me p-please mommy?” Matt asked, grabbing my hand and playing with my fingers, kind of catching me off guard. I did as he asked, wrapping my hand around his throat but not really applying any pressure, “Tighter, please” he begged, turning me on even more, I never thought I’d have a thing for choking a guy during sex but with Matt it was different. “Feel good Matty? You like it when I choke you, baby?” “F-feels so good, can I please cum?” he whined as I started moving faster if that was even possible. Matt used his hands on my waist to help me move as he started to buck up his hips from being sensitive.

“In a second baby, I want to cum with you” I told him while tightening my hand around his throat a bit more as Matt whined, deciding he would help me cum faster by rubbing my clit. He looked up at me with innocent eyes as he did some “Is this okay mommy?” He asked innocently, “Yes it’s okay Matty, you’re being such a good boy for me” I panted out making Matt let out a loud moan. “Cum with me baby, be a good boy and fill me with your cum” I moaned, pulling Matt in for a rough and heated kiss. I tightened around him as I came, making Matt pull away from the kiss, throwing his head back. He let out a loud whimper/moan as he came inside of me before hiding his face in my neck as we both stopped our movements and I removed my hand from his throat.

I slowly pulled off of Matt’s dick making him hiss at the feeling before I got up and made my way to the bathroom to clean myself up. I returned to Matt’s room with a damp washcloth to clean him up as well “C’mon Matt let me help you get dressed before I go downstairs to get myself dressed” I told the tired looking boy. “Mhm no ‘m tired, stay for cuddles please! Wear one of my shirts and come lay down with me” he pleaded with me. Sighing in defeat I grabbed one of Matt’s shirts, throwing it over my head before going to grab two pair of his boxers, throwing a pair at him as we both got dressed. I laid down for the rest of the day, cuddling with Matt, hoping hid brothers wouldn’t have questions when they got home.

Taglist: @angelic-sturniolos111 @biimpanicking @biplrbtch @chrisenthusiast @chrisolivia4l @christinarowie332 @chr1sgirl4life @delimeats-000 @dev-speaks @ermdontmindthisaccount @flowerxbunnie @fionaheartswomen @heartsforchrisandmatt @iheartchrissturniolo @ilovemattsturn @its-jennarose @justaslvttygirl @kvtie444 @lustfulslxt @luvysworld @m6ttsturniolo @mangosrar @mangoposts @meerkatzthings @mattsnutsack @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @recklesssturniolo @solarsturniolo @soursturniolo @strniohoeee @sturniolohoe @sturniolopepsi

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Do not steal, use, or reupload my work

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #smut #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplet smut #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolos #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets imagine #the sturniolo triplets

[itjazzbicch]

Melting Hearts

Pairing: Husband!Bi Han x Wife!Fem Reader

Summary: Seeing Bi Han injured for the first time when he returns from his duties, the reader is the first to help him even though he decides to be stubborn at first, but slowly melts as the reader tends to his wounds and expresses her worries and love for him…

Requested by: @belle-oftheball34 (I hope you enjoy it!)

Warnings: mentions of blood, Bi Han is injured

Word Count: .7k

“Move, I’m fine!”

“But Grandmaster, your wound!”

Bi Han was so stubborn sometimes, returning to the temple, blood dried on the side of his head, holding his ribs.

“Bi Han-“ Seeing him like this had tears swelling in my eyes. I’d never seen him in such a state.

He always worried me when he went out for missions and coming back like this, refusing help? I wouldn’t allow him to limp around.

“Bi Han, come with me,” Everyone moved away from us as I took his hand, Bi Han’s eyes beaming at me:

“I said I’m f-fine-“

Stuttering on his words and groaning in pain, I didn’t care how much he wanted to tell himself that he was okay when he clearly wasn’t.

“Stop being so stubborn and let me help you,” I sniffled but was firm; He still decided limped away with me following, we got away from everyone’s sight and he finally dropped his tough act, letting me help him as I placed his arm around my shoulder, leading him to our bedroom.

It was easy to see that his ribs were bothering him, so I made sure to be as gentle as possible, sitting him down on the bed and helping him get out of his clothes.

“Stay here while I go get something’s to patch you up, okay?”

“Fine,” He sighed, groaning in pain, but stayed still.

I returned with some wraps for his ribs, gazes and a bowl of warm, soapy water to clean his cut.

Beginning to wrap his ribs carefully, he was fighting louder groans of pain, kissing the top of his head as I finished with that toughest part.

“I’m all done with your ribs. Now, be careful laying back. You can try to relax while I finish up, okay?”

Nodding and holding his breath, I delicately guiding him to his back on the bed, making sure the pillow was holding his head upright; he kept huffing, taking deep breaths and hissing at his ribs and I tried to be as helpful as I could, cooing and kissing the top of his head:

“I’m going to take good care of you. I know it hurts, but I have you, love.”

“I know,” He inhaled, closing his eyes as I took the warm, soapy rag, cleaning away the blood, making sure his wound was cleaned so it could begin to heal.

“Please be more careful the next time you know you’re going to face danger. You worry me till I’m sick, sometimes,” I whispered as I covered the cut, kissing it softly, “I know you’re strong, but I can’t help but worry about you.”

“They got lucky,” He growled, holding his ribs; I didn’t know exactly what happened, but regardless, he came back injured.

“I love you, Bi Han,” Connecting a deep gaze, I needed him to know how much I cared for him, ”And I hate seeing you this way. I know it’s hard given your responsibilities and the many challenges you face, but I worry every second you’re gone. I don’t ever want to lose you or see you hurt.”

The tears that were built up began to leak out, cleaning my face, quickly looking as he took my hand.

“You won’t lose me, dear,” He was confident in his words, squeezing my handle softly as he whispered, “I love you too.”

Bi Han didn’t express his feelings with words so directly. He didn’t say, ‘I love you’, often. I knew that he did, but hearing him say it always filled me with joy.

My tears faded with a small smile as he pulled me close to him, kissing me softly. I wanted to hold onto his kiss for as long as I could, but knew he needed rest, kissing one last time before I picked myself up, “I love you so much, Bi Han. You’ll be feeling better soon. I’ll make sure of it.”

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome

#mortal Kombat #mortal Kombat 1 #mortal Kombat x reader #mortal Kombat x y/n #mortal Kombat imagine #mortal Kombat fluff #mortal Kombat oneshot #bi Han #bi Han x reader #bi han x y/n #bi han imagine #bi han fluff #Bi han oneshot #subzero #subzero x reader #subzero x y/n #subzero imagine #subzero fluff #subzero oneshot #request #read and enjoy

[smileysuh]

ghost house - TEASER

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You stand up, going to inspect the out-of-place panties lying next to your hamper. When you bend down, you see a translucent sort of outline, and it’s not your own spunk marring the fabric. It’s undoubtedly ghost cum, which is the oddest thing to realize- and you’re pretty sure it’s fresh. Your skin tingles at the notion. Somewhere in this house, Hyuck is coming down from a recent orgasm that he’d clearly achieved by using your panties. You’re a witch, but this is sinful, even for you.

tw/cw. Voyeurism, unprotected sex with a ghost, Hyuck is a repressed perv, he’s not a virgin but he’s not experienced either, pantie sniffer Hyuck, Hyuck watching y/n masturbate using ghost powers, Hyuck using y/n’s panties to cum in, weird ghost cum, Hyuck is a switch but leans more submissive at parts, self asphyxiation/choking, y/n punishes Hyuck for being a naughty ghostie, making Hyuck watch her masturbate without touching himself, fingering, oral (f receiving), pussy drunk/addict hyuck, overstimulation, hair pulling, hyuck cums and y/n decides to keep riding him, hyuck likes to be choked, dirty talk, hyuck has a good boy kink, praise kink, degradation/humiliation, finger sucking, face riding, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess. (Haechan’s) ghostie, baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 8.3k

🍭 aus. ghost!hyuck, witch!reader, supernatural au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I've never written Hyuck this subby/switchy, but I think it worked, he still has his dom moments, but this man is a near virgin, little, repressed for 20 years ghost shit head who wants to be told he's a good boy, and I'm not even mad about it

“Admit it,” you instruct. “If you admit it, I’ll go easy on you.”

Hyuck takes a breath. “Yes, I used your panties to cum.”

You study the ghost.

“Good boy,” you say finally. His eyes lift to meet yours, his lips parting. “Come to my room.”

You don’t wait for him to respond, you simply turn and expect him to follow. When you get to your room, you collapse onto the bed. 

“Close the door,” you instruct next. “Be a good boy and light my candles for me too.” 

As he begins to follow through with your commands, you stretch, letting out a sigh from the feeling of your tight muscles. Then, you lift off your shirt, tossing it at Hyuck while his back is to you, his fingers fumbling with a lighter.

Hyuck freezes, then turns to look at you.

“Have you watched me before, dirty ghostie?” you ask, going to remove your pants next.

The way he swallows tells you everything you need to know.

“Well, you are a bad, naughty, dirty, little ghostie, aren’t you, Hyuck?” you grin, tossing your jeans at him.

Laying in your bra and panties, you watch him finish lighting your candles, then he comes to stand at the foot of the bed, clearly waiting on instruction. He’s trying to cover the front of his pants again, and it makes you laugh.

“Move your hands,” you tell him. “You know, honestly, I’m a little surprised at how easy it was for you to get hard again. You came, what? Ten minutes ago? Fifteen?”

He’s so bashful he can hardly answer, and it’s an adorable sight.

“Here are the rules,” you say, “I’m going to make myself cum. After that, I’ll let you make me cum. And if you can get through all of that teasing without touching yourself, if you can prove to me you’re a good ghostie who can follow instructions, I’ll fuck you. How does that sound?”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.2k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or wait till the fic is posted on tumblr Friday, April 19nd, 2024

🔮 see what’s already available to read on my m.list

the link for the fic will be posted here when it's on tumblr :)

#lee donghyuck #lee donghyuck smut #donghyuck #haechan #haechan smut #donghyuck smut #lee haechan #lee haechan smut #nct #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct dream #nct dream smut #haechan nct #nct haechan #nct haechan smut

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

the five stages | f. odair

masterlist

summary: a journey back to a golden period of time of polaroid pictures, white knitted sweaters, and lively sea-green eyes. why? because in the present, those same pair of eyes are ruthlessly unrelenting and you have no other chance of their escape.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: heavy angst, vomiting, implied smut, depression, maggots, hallucinations, relieving fluff, mild horror. I don’t want to spoil the story too much, so I won’t be adding any more warnings, sorry y’all. this could be very triggering so please read at your own discretion. some descriptions are quite graphic!

notes: I’m super proud of this one—it’s sorta based off “little talks” by of monsters and men and “on the nature of daylight” by max richer. this fic probably won’t get many views, so I’ll be incredibly grateful for any—if any at all—type of engagement! <33

word count: 8k

The bedroom was cold; dark; empty. Empty even though I still resided in it.

My alarm had gone off two hours ago, yet I hadn’t moved an inch. When I finally turned my head to the side, I found that the space beside me was vacant. Cold; dark; empty—I reached out my hand anyway.

Thirty minutes passed before I wrestled myself out of bed and started making breakfast downstairs. The otherwise warm and flavourful plate of fruit-filled yoghurt and scrambled eggs on toast left my mouth feeling dry and my throat lodged.

It used to be one of my favourite meals. At least, when he was around.

Dishes were piled in the sink, dirty and untouched. I sat on the couch, pondering whether today was the day I would finally get to cleaning them. It wasn’t. I couldn’t. We always did that together. I wondered—if I left them in the sink long enough, would he return? Even just for five minutes to help me put them away? One month and seventeen days had passed, and yet I still entertained this thought religiously.

I wasted an hour running circles round the same contemplations before deciding fresh air, as cliché as it was, might do me some good.

Grey clouds concealed the sun’s warm golden light when I stepped outside, but that was fine—I didn’t like anything golden anymore. But he would want me to leave the house at least once a day, so that’s what I would do. I would go down to the beach beside our—my house and feel the sand collect between my toes as I walked to the water’s edge.

But wasn’t that where he was when it happened? Wasn’t he in water? Didn’t those things pile on top of him? Didn’t they sink their fangs into his neck and tear at his flesh until he was blown to…

Bits of egg, yoghurt and stomach bile sat at my feet. My legs buckled, and I collapsed to the ground in a sandy, tear-stricken heap. Since my lower body had refused to cooperate any longer, it took me until midday to crawl back up the dune and to my front doorstep.

Fuck. I needed to rest.

“I need you to rest, sweetheart.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” I whined. “I’m not sick.”

Finnick placed a bucket on the ground beside the bed. The room smelled of lemon disinfectant—a joy I often found in being sick… That is, if I were sick, which I was not. I must have drunk spoiled milk or eaten something bad during breakfast. Nevertheless, Finnick was not having it.

“You’re throwing up everything you manage to get down, and you’re shivering like it’s the middle of winter,” he said adamantly, tucking the comforter up to my chest. “It’s summer, and you’re very much not fine.”

I sat up, ready to heatedly debate the subject, but the room began swirling, and my ears were hissing like a staticky television channel without a signal. A quiet whimper buzzed in my throat as I hunched forward. Damn him, I was sick.

The mattress dipped as Finnick sat beside me. His hand was on my back, rubbing it soothingly as he used his other hand to tuck away the curtain of hair concealing my face. I huffed, half in annoyance, half in an attempt to suppress the nausea rising in my throat, and then sunk back against the pillows.

“Not sick, she says,” he jested, smiling down at me. I rolled my eyes, though unable to hide the weak, betraying smile creeping across my lips. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he said, a gentle command. “I’ll see you when you fall asleep.”

The wooden flooring welcomed me with hard, cold arms as I hauled my sandy body through the front door. Images of fangs, bloody flesh, and panicked sea-green eyes flooded my mind.

More breakfast, more bile. No lemon disinfectant.

My knees were folded beneath my body; my body was hunched over my knees. I was sobbing now, so hard that I threw up again (was there even anything left in my stomach at this point?), creating a thick puddle of vomit and tears beneath me. Cries and gasps for air bounced around the house. To call me a mess would be an understatement. I was a disaster. A disaster wrapped up in an unmendable tragedy with a ragged, threadbare ribbon barely holding me together.

And in case I wasn’t aware of this fact, the floorboards were so shiny that they mirrored a reflection of myself. My hair was a being of its own, all wild and unkempt, and my face was another story entirely—a red, blotchy thing I wasn’t too interested in delving into.

But the most unsettling aspect had nothing to do with me, it was that there was someone else in the reflection. Two green balls of light were glowing above my head.

Dishevelled golden hair…

Dimpled cheeks…

My forehead was pressed to the floor as I screamed.

“I don’t want to make you sick as well,” I said, contrarily enjoying the feeling of Finnick’s skin warm against mine, hot blood flowing through his veins.

A day had passed since I first became unwell, and the sickness had continued to wreak havoc inside me.

We were both under the thick covers, our limbs tangled together as he held me atop his chest. (my body didn’t register the scorching summer temperatures. I actually felt as though my core temperature was a few degrees below freezing. Meanwhile, Finnick was characteristically toasty warm. It was perfect for me, but not so much for him, evident in the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. Nevertheless, he made no complaints).

My body rose and fell with each breath he took. I was trying to inhale whenever he exhaled in a weak attempt to prevent the festering sickness in my body from entering his, and though it was a futile gesture, I did it anyway.

“In sickness and health, remember?” he said.

I smiled. “We’re not even married.”

“Yet, you mean,” he countered. “I plan on spending the rest of my life with you, sweetheart. You know that.”

My heart fluttered at the thought of spending an entire lifetime with him—waking up in each other’s embrace each morning, the warm sunlight peeking through the blinds of our bedroom; Finnick calling me “Mrs. Odair” or “My wife” at every opportunity because doing so made us both giggle like two moronic, love-struck teenagers; and being unable to prevent the deep smile lines on both our cheeks as we age, a constant display of our perpetual happiness.

“Sixty more years of having and holding you,” he continued with a gentle musing in his tone. “For better or for worse... For richer or for poorer.” He then stroked the side of my face and brushed away the sweaty strands of hair sticking to my forehead. “In sickness and in health…”

“…Until death do us part,” I finished, my voice slow with fatigue.

Two fingers sat beneath my chin and tilted my head upward. My eyes connected with Finnick’s. They were soft. Heartfelt.

“Not even then. I’ll love you beyond the grave,” he murmured. Then his lips were slowly curving into a pensive smile. “When we’re both ghosts and haunting the next owners of this house.”

I was now smiling, too. “I’d hoped you would say something like that.”

How could he lie like that? There was no we. There were no next owners. There was only me, alive and alone in a comatose house. And mind you, I was sane enough to know that it wasn’t actually his ghost haunting me, though I wish I weren’t because having that knowledge was even worse. It meant he was truly erased from existence.

“Go away,” I whispered to the reflection on the floor.

He didn’t. His vacant green eyes kept staring down at my crumpled figure.

I shot off the floor and spun around, hot tears streaming down my face. “Go away!” His face remained expressionless. He looked like himself, only colder. “You said sixty more years! You said we’d be together!” I mindlessly picked up and flung a small picture frame at him, only for it to pass through his body and shatter on the floor behind him. “Why did you lie to me?!” My voice was frayed with fury, though underlined with grief.

He said nothing, did nothing. All he did was watch.

My legs buckled, and I was on the floor again. I was whispering, half-sobbing, the same question over and over until the words slurred together. “Why’d you lie? Why’d y’lie?” The only time I stopped was when my tongue grew too heavy to move anymore.

To my surprise, he eventually came and sat beside me, remaining cold and silent—as I too had become.

Glass fragments from the picture frame were scattered across the floorboards. The photo within had fallen out and, ironically, drifted towards me. I didn’t bother acknowledging him as I moved onto my hands and knees and began crawling forward—my palms slicing open and blood seeping out—until the photo was in my hands. My shins had granules of glass pricking into them, but I couldn’t feel the pain; all I could do was stare at the memory in my hands.

The picture had been taken in District Thirteen, a day before he signed up for… the mission.

I was drifting in and out of sleep when a sudden bright flash lit up my eyelids.

“Oops.”

Heavy eyes fluttering open, I was met with a small camera pointing down at me, which was being held up by a lengthy muscular arm, which was connected to an even more muscular and broad shoulder, which was connected to—okay, sorry, I think you get it.

“Finnick!” I shrieked, pulling the covers over my naked figure.

He laughed, the vibrations rumbling deep within his chest, beneath my ear. A soft whirring sound accompanied the polaroid sliding out of the camera, its black film hiding the doubtless embarrassing picture beneath. He placed the film on the sheets beside him, letting the photo develop in darkness.

“I was supposed to cover the flash,” he said, still chuckling.

I rubbed my eyes, which were twinkling with little sparkles of light. “I think you blinded me.”

“Lucky you,” he jested. “You’re finally free from my repulsive exterior.”

I started to reach for the picture beside him—“You’re an idiot”—but then he was rolling us over until his arms were pillared on either side of my head and he was hovering above me.

His hair was a mess, a testament to the night before (and very early hours of the morning), and he was sporting a beautiful, lazy grin. “Yeah? Well, you’re engaged to an idiot,” he said, tilting his head in an arrogant manner. “So what does that make you?”

The sea-glass ring hugging my finger gleamed in the lamp’s dull light as I reached out to touch his face, my fingertips brushing along the edges of his pronounced jawline. Tangled strands of hair and a beaming smile were reflecting back at me in his eyes. No one had ever loved anyone as much as I loved Finnick—disregarding the one exception that was staring down at me.

“Blinded by love,” I whispered.

Brief yet poignant emotion trickled through his features, his eyes. Then, like a flick of a switch, he covered it up and lowered his face into my neck, groaning the words, “So corny.”

My fingers were tangled in his hair, holding him close to me. “Liar,” I laughed. “You loved it.”

“I love you, which is why I put up with your corniness,” he murmured into my skin.

Even after all this time, my heart still leapt whenever he said those three words, even when he was being a jerk about it. I kissed the top of his head. “I love you, too.”

We laid like this for a short while longer—Finnick keeping his face buried in the warmth of my neck, his arms curled beneath my body; me playing with the golden waves of his hair that were somehow softer than my own. He was so heavy on top of me that it was starting to become difficult to breathe, but in no universe would I ever tell him to get off. It was a blissful sort of suffocation.

A sort anyone would snap a picture of just to keep as a reminder of how beautiful it feels to be smothered with love. With that being said, the picture that lay awaiting beside me was brought back to mind.

“Oh no,” I moaned, picking it up and taking a short glance at the developed photo. I covered my face with my hands, repeating the words, “Oh no.”

The photo was plucked from my fingers, and Finnick began humming contentedly to himself.

In the photo, my face had been nuzzled into his bare, muscular chest, eyes closed in sleep-drunken serenity, hair thrown over my shoulder and spilling across the pillow. My hand rested on his contoured stomach with just enough of my upper arm and low light to conceal my breasts. Finnick had a delicate hand draped over my waist. He was gazing down at me with a smile that was just… full of pure love.

I had to admit—it was a beautiful picture. Despite my initial disapproval.

“Beautiful,” I heard him echo my thoughts, his eyes still scanning the photo. Then his brows furrowed, and his head slightly inched forward as though he had just noticed something peculiar in the picture. “Oh, and you are too, I guess.”

My head tilted back against the pillow with an abrupt laugh. I shook my head, looking back at him. “I hate you.”

“Liar,” he said, leaning in closer.

His lips were on mine for what must have been the millionth time in the past few hours. The bedside clock announced that breakfast was soon approaching, though it was clear neither of us would make an appearance within the next hour (or two).

“You love me,” he whispered as he slid inside me.

And I did.

I really did.

The muscles in my cheeks were straining due to how hard I was smiling.

It wasn’t my idea to keep a picture of us half-naked in the entryway of our home. He always was a bit unusual like that. Completely unashamed of who he was and how he acted. Sometimes a little too boisterously, but that’s what I loved so much about him—how confident he was in his love for me, so much so that nothing else mattered, no one else’s opinion.

God, I love him so much.

Love…?

Wait.

That’s not right.

Shouldn’t it be “loved”?

And why was I smiling? I didn’t have anything to smile about anymore. He was gone. Our wedding never occurred. Our faces never wrinkled with smile lines. Our clasped hands never weathered with age. He was gone.

The polaroid slipped from between my fingers. My hands were covered in glass and blood, blood that had painted a dark red splotch in the middle of the shiny film. Figures.

After a short while of staring blankly at the scattered debris decorating the floor, I finally found it in myself to start climbing back onto my feet. My straightened legs wobbled and ached beneath me with the little energy I had. That’s what happens when you can barely stomach food anymore: no energy, always sleeping, always swamped by nightmares or bittersweet memories—at this point, they were one and the same.

Not a strand of gold or a fleck of green was in sight when I glanced over my shoulder. For now, at least. He liked making an appearance once or twice a day.

Pieces of glass crunched beneath my bare, stinging feet as I made for the stairwell. A mess for another day, I reasoned. Just like the dishes. Sticky red footprints stamped each wooden step I ascended, growing less prominent as I reached the second floor.

After taking a right down a short hallway, the encompassing walls littered with magnificent seashells and dried ocean flora, I turned the knob to the furthest room and entered. The floor was landscaped with mountains of clothes which drenched the room in a familiar, all-consuming smell. The scent kind of reminded me of receiving a warm hug, albeit from someone you know you should let go of in more ways than one.

His hair, golden and tousled, caught my eye as I passed the wall of string-hung polaroids in our… sorry, my bedroom. His smile was all dimpled and brilliant, and he had his tanned arms wrapped around my middle. Just moments after the picture was taken, he had tackled me into the water and rightfully earned a smack on the back of the head. In turn, he did it again.

But before that, we were both looking into the camera with the most joyful expressions—huge grins, bright eyes. Frozen in time.

I never let myself look too long at that picture anymore. And I never, ever looked into his eyes. Green used to be my favourite colour. I didn’t have a favourite colour anymore. It was safe to say I didn’t have a favourite anything anymore; everything favourable was a reminder of him.

I picked up a white knitted sweater off the ground and tugged it over my head, staining it with splotches of dark red. Knowing him, he would wear it regardless—whatever was mine, was also his, and was equally the same in reverse, even things as grotesque as blood.

Well, he would have worn it, I should have said.

The sweater had been specifically tailored for him. I remembered how the soft sleeves hugged his arms so well that every fluid curve of his biceps was visible, similar to a building wave before it crested. On me, the sleeves swallowed my arms whole, which I liked to think in their own unique way had also been unintentionally tailored for me, like someone out there knew one day I would need some way to drown in him when he was gone.

Finnick’s fingers tugged at the silk ribbons, unwrapping the opulent gift box that sat on our dining table. Capitol devotees would send extravagant parcels weekly, turning up in abundance on our doorstep. Sometimes Finnick didn’t even bother opening them; sometimes we opened them together just to get a good laugh out of whatever ridiculous item was inside.

He never, though, opened the perfume-scented letters marked with lipstick stains.

“Oh,” I said in surprise as he lifted the lid. Inside was a folded piece of fabric, knitted and cream-white and intricate, though still simple. It was soft to the touch; thick enough to retain warmth. I held it up with two hands, admiring the hand-sewed threads of cotton. Whoever’s handiwork this was, it was nothing to laugh at.

Holding it up to Finnick’s torso, I smiled and said, “Try it on.”

“What?” He shook his head and smiled quizzically. “No.”

“Yes. I think it will look good on you.” I pressed it further against him with conviction. “Try it on.”

He tilted his head and exhaled deeply through his nose, giving me a begrudging, squinty-eyed look. From that, I already knew I had won him over, and watched as he snatched the sweater from my grasp and tugged his shirt off with one hand. I averted my eyes, feeling the tips of my ears flush with heat—we’d been together for over a year now; you would think I’d have grown accustomed to seeing him shirtless.

His head slipped through the neckline and he pulled the sweater down his body. I was right. It looked really good on him. Perfect, actually. The measurements were so precise that the fabric sloped off his shoulders like a compact mountain of snow. The thick-knitted collar dipped into a deep, uneven neckline that partly revealed his chest and made his neck look like a strong, contoured pillar. He looked at me expectantly, as though to ask, “Well?”

“It makes your neck and shoulders look really nice,” I blurted out, instantly cringing inside.

His expression contorted into something of amusement and surprise as he took a slow step towards me. “My neck and shoulders, huh?” he said, grinning devilishly. Oh, now I’d done it. Leave it to me to rocket Finnick Odair’s already atmospheric ego. “Anything else?”

I began backing away, but his prowling strides were so long that the space between us only shortened. When my backside hit the edge of the dining table, I knew I was done for.

“You know,” I began, avoiding his unrelenting stare. “I think it was just a momentary lapse of judgement.” He was closing in now, placing his hands on either side of my body to trap me in place. “It—It actually looks terrible on you,” I said, feigning sincerity and adding a little nod to help further my case.

His eyelids drooped as he gazed down at me, lips curving into that seductive smirk he had mastered long ago. “No takebacks,” he purred, voice low and gravelly. Dear God, I could only pray I wasn’t going to melt into a puddle on the floor. He always did this—took every opportunity to flirt and render me a stuttering, bashful mess. It was his favourite game to play. “This is now my new favourite shirt. All thanks to you, sweetheart.”

But, given the right timing and ever-wavering amount of confidence, I liked to play too.

I inhaled deeply, hoping my voice wouldn’t betray me. “Maybe you should take it off then,” I said, cocking my head to the side. “So you don’t ruin it.”

His mischievous expression revealed his next words before he even spoke them. “Maybe I will,” he said, and then he was tugging his sweater over his head, and I was tearing off my own. As his hands slipped beneath my thighs and lifted me onto our dining table, I prayed the wooden legs wouldn’t collapse under the weight of our next actions.

My fingertips ran over the soft, rippling patterns on the knitted sleeves, my arms crossed in a self-soothing manner. After that day, the sweater had become a sort of good luck charm—or so we agreed upon as we lay panting on the tabletop. He started wearing it to a multitude of events and parties in the Capitol (basically any place in which he needed a pick-me-up, a reminder of what he had to come home to, who he had to come home to).

He even wore it the day we got engaged.

So many happy memories were associated with this one white sweater. So many times, those cloud-soft sleeves were wrapped around my body, suffocating me in the scent of him—if nothing else, at least that remained.

The last time he had worn it was the day of the Reaping for the Quarter Quell; the last time our lives were ever semi-normal. I had fought tooth and nail to reach him before he was escorted onto the train, despite being ordered, “No goodbyes,” by one of the Peacekeepers. In modest terms, I had significantly decreased his chances of reproduction.

When I reached Finnick, he had brought me into a kiss so harsh and fervent that my lips were bruised the next day. He then yanked off his sweater, leaving his upper body completely exposed to everyone around us in complete disregard for his trauma-induced fear of doing so, and shoved it into my hands.

I had just stood there frozen in bewilderment, watching as he called out, “I love you, sweetheart!” Two Peacekeepers were forcing him onto the train, but he too fought for the last word. “Don’t forget—I’m always with you!”

That statement had never been truer than it was now. For better or for worse.

My vision unblurred as I returned to reality. Dismal, grey light was peeking through the shutters that formed the balcony doors, the daylight hours seeming to tick away at a snail’s pace. I used to wish for the days to be longer, for time to move slower, so I could savour the moments I had of happiness and sunlight which used to be plentiful.

Why do wishes only come true when you grow to desire nothing but the opposite?

Slothfully, I crawled onto the unmade king-size bed, my limbs crumpling and balling to my chest as the side of my head hit the pillow. The imprint on the mattress beneath my body didn’t match my own. It was much larger and broader. How long would it take for the springs to forget his body weight and recoil back into place as though he never existed at all?

I inhaled the sweater’s scent with every breath I took (and I tried not to wonder how long it would take for his scent to disappear as well) and hugged my arms around my waist. No pain was worse than the fleeting moments I forgot the embrace was my own and not his.

Hours passed, and so did the evening. A beautiful orange sunset hadn’t slipped through the shutter’s cracks because the clouds never dissipated. Night-time brought no consolation either. Not even the stars or moon made an appearance. Everything that once gave me a shred of optimism was hidden behind a veil of gloom.

I knew tomorrow wouldn’t be any different—the weather, my mood, his absence. Because the end of autumn was closing in, and the days were becoming bleaker. Trees would start shedding their leaves; the leaves would start to die.

I hoped I would too.

I was still curled up on my side, my body aching with stiffness, when my face began scrunching into this ugly, twisted mess of despair. My tears were slow yet heavy, synonymous with the day I had incurred.

But then something strange happened.

Someone called my name.

No. That couldn’t be right. I was the only one who occupied a house in the Victor’s Village; the others had either relocated after the war or were… dead.

But there it was again—my name, distant and eerie, yet spoken with a tone people often used to beckon over and aid a frightened, injured animal. My vision blurred, both from tears and concentration on the voice.

“Hey.”

I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment my surroundings transformed into a kitchen, just that they had and that I was no longer in my bed but standing upright.

Ahead of me, in the distance, the sun was beating down on the crystalline water, and white frothy waves were cresting on the smooth, golden sand. It was a perfect day; not a cloud was in sight. The only blemish that smeared the blue sky was the reflection staring back at me from the window I gazed out of.

In my hands was a soup bowl and a damp dishrag.

“Sweetheart?” That once distant voice, concerned and beckoning, was standing right beside me.

Blinking, I snapped out of my daze and turned away from the window.

He stood tall beside me, despite being half hunched over the kitchen sink and scrubbing the last of the few dirty dishes stacked neatly on the bench top. His head was turned towards me, his enamoured sea-green eyes peering into my own as though he was searching behind them for what troubled me.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, standing up straight. His touch was warm and gentle as he reached for my hand, leaving soapy bubbles on my palm and fingers. “Where’d you go?”

Three odd things seemed to occur at once: first, I flinched away from his touch, overwhelmed by its paradoxical unfamiliar familiarity; second, I felt an inexpressible relief from seeing him standing before me, seeing his cheeks painted with a soft pink hue as though blood-red roses were hidden just beneath his skin.

The third was an onset of disorientation. I couldn’t tell you why I felt disorientated standing in my own kitchen with the love of my life, just, simply, that I did. There was an answer—it was close by, right under my nose, yet unreachable. We did this every day, didn’t we? We would eat meals together and then wash up together. So, why did I feel so unsettled?

I shook my head, dispelling the confusion that muddled my brain. “Sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t know what happened.” I laughed uneasily, without a hint of mirth.

He laughed too, not to poke fun or because he found my obvious turmoil amusing, but rather to comfort me, so I would feel less alone in my unease. “It’s alright,” he said gently.

Neither of us addressed what had happened; we simply resumed our routine of washing and drying in domestic silence. And as seconds turned to minutes, and as the sky remained sunny, I found myself smiling. All that mattered was that he was standing beside me and that the sun was beaming in the sky. So, I kept smiling.

After I finished drying the last dish, we began placing the plates, bowls, and an abundance of cutlery in their assigned drawers and cupboards, weaving past each other and giggling anytime we got in one another’s path. I was carrying a stack of white plates, eyeing the high cupboard they needed to go in, but before I could even attempt straining onto my toes, the plates were out of my hands and taken into another much larger pair.

The smell of sea salt and expensive cologne wafted from behind me as he towered over my shorter frame and placed the plates in the cupboard.

“I could have done that,” I said, smiling as I turned around to face him.

He had a playful glint in his eye. “Yeah, right. What are you, like, four feet tall?” he joked.

It was an extreme exaggeration since I was no way near that height, but I suppose everyone was miniature in comparison to him, being over six feet tall and all. I feigned open-mouthed offence, to which he gave the side of my head a quick, playful kiss of apology.

He then leaned against the counter with crossed arms. “Plus, when was the last time you actually put these dishes away? I’m surprised you even remember where they go.” He was grinning at me in a teasing manner, but every ounce of humour had drained from my body.

My eyes drifted to the floor.

Well, that was the question, wasn’t it—when was the last time I put the dishes away?

I couldn’t remember. In fact, I couldn’t remember what had happened this morning or the day before. Hell, I couldn’t even remember what we were doing before the dishes.

To be standing in a room, in a place you call home, and have a sense that nothing is in its right place, even though that is where everything has always been, is a disconcerting feeling beyond belief. To be perplexed by your own state of being—your existence—is even worse. I could almost describe it as a nauseating bout of vertigo.

My hands found the counter’s edge behind me, and I exhaled a shaky breath.

He stepped in front of me, one large and gentle hand reaching up to cup my jaw. “Are you okay?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling with shallow worry lines as he inspected my face. I hated that. I hated that I worried him so much. Sure, partners were supposed to lean on each other for support in a relationship (as he too did with me when needed), but I always felt so guilty doing so. Hadn’t he already suffered enough… pain in his lifetime? Who was I to cause him any more?

A sunbeam suffused the room, oozing across his face. The illumination lightened his eyes into a refreshing mint green, though, in contradiction, unearthed a pain that had been previously been concealed. Pain from what, I wasn’t sure. From concern regarding my unusual behaviour? Maybe a thought that was troubling him? Or perhaps he too was enduring a spell of confusion and had an inexplicable feeling that he was out of place.

Whatever his pain regarded, seeing it had rattled the deepest structures in which held my mind together.

It was then that I suddenly realised I hadn’t answered his question, so I gave him a wan “I’m-not-too-sure-myself” smile and then began slinking back to the sink window.

He followed behind me. I could feel him staring into the back of my head, could feel his brows draw together and his lips pull into a tight line, patiently waiting for a further explanation, though I wasn’t sure I could offer him one.

I hadn’t noticed before, but on the windowsill was a small picture frame containing a polaroid picture of us in bed—I was lying on his chest, half-naked and asleep, and he was looking down at me, smiling fondly yet with a sort of mischievous knowability. Running down the middle of the protective glass was a small, jagged crack.

I plucked the frame from the windowsill, inspecting the picture in my two hands. It seemed to uncover a place in my mind—once clouded by disorientation—I’d forgotten. Whether this place was real or imaginary was beyond me, but the fear I felt upon its recollection was incandescently genuine.

“Do you think,” I spoke tentatively, “people can have nightmares while they’re wide awake?” My thumb ran over the crack.

I might have heard him inhale a quiet, sharp breath, but it also could have just been the waves breaking on the distant shore. “Like a flashback?” he asked, an unidentifiable unease in his tone.

“No, not exactly.” I searched my brain for the right words, the right way to tell him how I was feeling, but it was difficult when I could only conjure vague fragments. And it was all I could do to tell it to him elliptically, as I knew saying the words in any other manner would shatter my heart.

“I had this vision,” I began, my words apprehensively staccato, “where I was somewhere else.” My eyes flickered over the picture. “Somewhere… bad. Everything was grey and heavy, and I was alone. Sometimes you were there, but you—you weren’t really you anymore.” I paused and looked up to find him staring at me in the reflection of the window. He looked pained; it was then suddenly hard to recollect a time when he didn’t. My throat started to constrict. “You were gone and…” my voice quietened to a broken wisp of wind, “you were haunting me.”

The room was silent.

He said nothing in response

The transparency of his reflection in the glass was so familiar—so haunting—and it was like another forgotten matter had been dredged from the depths of my mind. Stinging tears brimmed my waterline, and, due to my inability to bear the sight of his translucent appearance, I forced myself to turn around.

I glanced up at him, smiling weakly as I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head as if my need to apologise was nonsensical (even I was unsure of what I was apologising for), and he then pulled me into a tight embrace. His chin rested atop my head; my face was buried in his chest, and his arms held me like I was some dilapidated structure that relied on his support to remain upright. Part of me knew this sentiment was correct.

I expected his next words to be ones of consolation or reassurance, maybe an “I’m right here, sweetheart” or an “I’ll never leave you”. Instead, I felt his head turn and heard him say, “Think it’s going to storm?”

With a sniffle, I turned my head towards the window. The arms wrapped around my body tightened as if he somehow knew I would need the extra support. Because when I saw the wall of dark, opaque clouds rolling through the sky towards us, an unshakeable dread zapped through my heart.

My hands clung to the fabric of his cream-white sweater, which then brought to my attention that an inexplicable tingling sensation was spreading down the fingers of my right hand, numbing them.

Lightning flashed on the horizon, and the once serene waves began cresting violently on the shoreline. The dread grew.

Before my attention could drift too far, my name was called again.

I looked up to find those green eyes gazing down at me, swelling with tears. He was crying. Why was he crying? And why was his hair wet? His usually golden strands had darkened to a deep brown and were drenched with cold water that dripped onto my cheeks, and his hair was swept haphazardly across his forehead, a reflection of someone who had just endured an intense storm or had just been fighting for his life against a swarm of—of—

No.

My own eyes began to burn.

“It’s killing me to see you this way,” he spoke, every second word breaking and wavering in volume.

The world seemed to tilt on an axis. Return did the disorientation, ravaging my mind more violently now. “What do you”—My chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths—“What? What do you mean?” My lower lip was quivering, and my eyebrows were scrunched together in confusion. His words replayed in my head: It’s killing me to see you this way.

It’s killing me.

His hair was dripping—no longer with water, but with a thick, red substance that both dripped down and clotted on his skin. He didn’t look pained anymore; he looked like he was in pain.

It’s killing me.

But that can’t be right, can it?

It’s killing me.

Why?

It’s killing me.

Becausemy Finnickwas already dead.

I staggered backwards and out of his, no, this imposter’s arms. He stared at me as blood streamed down his forehead, pouring over his eyelashes and down his cheeks. I was going to be sick. This had to be some sort of cruel joke, a newly invented punishment from Snow. But that wasn’t right either: Snow was dead too.

“F…Fi…” I tried saying his name, my top teeth prodding the inside of my bottom lip, but I couldn’t make a sound.

He took a step towards me, and I almost stumbled onto the floor. “Remember what I told you?” he asked, though it sounded more like an urge.

I frantically shook my head. No, I didn’t remember. I didn’t want to remember anything.

Something dark and mountainous appeared in my peripheral vision, and an odious smell singed my nostrils. My head snapped to the left. Stacks upon stacks of plates and bowls mounded the kitchen sink, each crawling with maggots that were falling to the floor in white, wriggling heaps.

Nausea boiled in my stomach; horror brimmed my eyes.

I quickly turned away, my eyes meeting green again. His face was no longer stained with blood, and his hair was dry, shiny, and golden with life. I was as speechless as my face was drained of blood.

He took one more step toward me, but this time I didn’t back away, either frozen with fear or desperation for one last experience of closeness with him. My heart thrummed as he reached out to cup my face. It isn’t him, it isn’t him, it isn’t him, I repeated madly in my head. Oh, but it felt so much like him when his warm hand met my skin.

“I told you I’m always with you, sweetheart,” he murmured. And I knew engaging with him, in whatever form he took, affirmed my mental unwellness, but I couldn’t stop from leaning into his touch anyway. “Remember that.”

My cheeks were wet with tears. “I love—”

A bolt of lightning flashed, and thunder boomed throughout the house.

I was back in my bed.

My eyelids were heavy with sleep as they fluttered open. I felt detached, destabilised, and unsure of my existence in the world for I wasn’t sure which of the twoI was currently in. Real or fake?

A few minutes went by before I managed to get a grip on reality, which, in fact, was the real one. The Somewhere Bad. I pinched the corners of my eyes, not only finding them damp with fresh tears but also realising that my right hand—previously tucked beneath my head—was numb.

None of it had been real…

The entire time, my body was trying to alert me, to save me from the inescapable heartache I would feel upon waking. He hadn’t held me in his arms. He hadn’t cupped my cheek nor helped me wash the dishes. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t anywhere (not even in his own marked grave because there was nothing left of him to be buried).

Even despite seeing the familiar tall outline standing in the doorway, his features illuminated with each flash of lightning, I knew it wasn’t really him.

Rain was pummelling the roof, almost loud enough to subdue the perpetual rumbling of thunder (apart from the one sky-splitting thunderclap that had woken me). In another time, I would’ve been scared—of the raging storm, of my phantom lover who was watching from the shadows of our bedroom. But not now.

In recent months, I had found that no emotion, not even fear, surpassed the soul-crushing realisation that you have irretrievably lost the one thing you lived for.

On a defeated whim, and for the first time since his death, I let the singular, weighted word breeze past my lips.

“Finnick.”

It was a trembling plea, a desperate beckon.

And he indulged.

His footsteps were silent as he walked towards the bed. I couldn’t see his legs from my position, prompting me to wonder if he even had legs at all. Or did he only have legs when I could see them? That would then insinuate that if I couldn’t see him at all, he didn’t exist.

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? In my case, the answer was simple: no, it didn’t.

It wasn’t really Finnick. It wasn’t even his ghost. It was my mind.

He reached the bed’s edge, and I scooted over to my side of the mattress, allowing him enough space to lie down on his. His weight neither dipped nor shook the bed as he laid down and turned on his side to face me. His eyes were sad, and I’m sure mine were too. We stared at each other for a long, long time, long enough for my fatigued body to start playing tricks on me.

If I focused hard enough, I thought I could hear the sound of his breathing (the wind was picking up outside), feel the warmth of his skin spreading onto the sheets (the remnants of my own body heat were left behind each time I moved), and smell the musky scent of cologne and sea-salted hair (the sleeves of his sweater were tucked beneath my nose).

Maybe for a moment—just one sickly, self-indulgent moment—I could pretend it was really him.

I inhaled deeply through my nose. “You really weren’t kidding when you said you would haunt the next owner of this house,” I whispered as light-heartedly as I could, my voice obscured by the heavy rain pouring onto the roof.

He smiled, and it was one of the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful things I had ever seen. I think I might have given him one in return, though I couldn’t be too sure because the concept of smiling had become so foreign. The last time I was truly happy was… the last night we spent together. In each other’s arms, safe and warm and together.

And then he was gone. Just like that.

Cressida, whom I had only spoken to once in Thirteen when the war ended, was the one to tell me how it happened. Katniss was too personal, too close to him; Peeta’s instability rendered conversation futile. So, I had asked Cressida to tell me every detail—every expression on his face, every word he screamed. I don’t know why. Maybe it was so I could cling onto those last few minutes where he was still alive and breathing, despite dying and bleeding; or so I could replay the moment over and over in my head, as if somehow, someway, I could change his fate.

“He talked about you all the time,” she had told me. “Actually, I don’t think he ever spoke of anything but you. No one minded, though. While we were out there, no one ever really smiled, but every time your name was mentioned, Finnick would get this great big grin on his face, and it was impossible not to look at him and start smiling as well.

So, we all started asking questions about you: ‘What colour is her hair? Her eyes? Where did you meet? What are her hobbies?’—just to see him smile… A week passed, and it was like we all knew you inside out. It was all we could do to hang on to some shred of happiness, even if it meant talking about a girl who, to all of us, was a stranger.”

I was inconsolable after that.

She kept talking, but my sobs had drowned out most of her words, so much that I had asked her to retell me everything later in the day, despite inducing the same outcome. So, she told it to me again, just as she did the day after that and the day after that and so on until I returned home to District Four.

“He also spoke about how you never felt comfortable living in the Victors Village. He had this idea that the two of you would move somewhere far away, outside the borders of District Four­, though he emphasised remaining by the sea was very important—something about how you looked while swimming during sunset and the water was all sparkly around you.”

At this point, she had been holding my hand, knowing full well how debilitating it was for me to hear. Then she had spoken with a quiet incredulity and a facial expression to match, as though she’d never encountered a love like ours before. “He wanted to build a house for you…”

He wanted to build a house for you.

And now he never would. Our love was too ephemeral for that to happen; destined to remain history; to be a memory.

Finnick's eyes stared into mine, the green hue now a dark grey from the overshadowing dimness of the room.

“I would’ve gone anywhere with you,” I whispered to him, placing my hand on the sheets between us. “I would’ve travelled thousands of miles away from this place. Would’ve lived in solitary, just the two of us, for the rest of our lives.” A warm tear tickled the bridge of my nose. His eyebrows scrunched together in shared anguish. “God, Finn, I miss you,” my voice broke. “I miss you so much.”

I contemplated crying, sobbing, screaming, or begging for him to come back, but I was just too tired. All my energy had been spent on grievance throughout the following day, and my eyes were growing heavier by the second as my body was sinking further into a state of relaxation.

Between slow blinks, I watched Finnick’s large hand move to rest atop my own, and at that point, I knew sleep would soon catch me because I swear I could feel his warm touch.

Images flashed through my mind—incomprehensible and melting together, yet somehow still graspable.

Sky blue water rippling with calm waves, the surface glittering in the setting sun. A white stonewall cottage fronted by soft, white sand and tall palm trees. Two plates of fruit-filled yoghurt and scrambled eggs on toast. Three pairs of footprints in the sand, one larger, one smaller, and another between them so delicately tiny I could fit them into the palm of my hand.

Sea-green eyes above me. Golden hair tangled between my fingers. Finnick standing in the wooden doorway of our white stonewall cottage wearing a cream-white sweater and rolled-up slacks. Finnick grinning deeply and then throwing his head back with laughter. Finnick standing in front of our bed, taking my hand in his and guiding me towards him. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick.

Finnick holding our child.

I was between worlds now, both indistinguishable from the other. My eyelids were drooping, and I was quickly growing insensate. Just before my eyes closed completely, I saw Finnick’s—he who wasn’t really my Finnick—lips move. It wasn’t in my bleak reality in which I heard him speak, but rather in my mind, and God, did his words offer the sweetest relief.

“I’ll see you when you fall asleep.”

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair drabble #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fluff #sam claflin #finnick x reader #fiinnick odair x you #finnick x you #finnick imagine #thg finnick #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #the hunger games fanfiction #suzanne collins #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #odesta #everlark #josh hutcherson

[bluemari23]

cake cake cake | jeon jungkook

summary: your boyfriend eats the cake for a party and thinks he can get away with it

pairing: jeon jungkook x baker owner reader

genre: fluff, lil angst, established relationship

warnings: none

masterlist

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“Now what did we say?” You had your hands on your hips as you looked to your boyfriend, a fork in his hand and a piece of cake in his mouth.

“That we wouldn’t eat the cake until after dinner.” Jungkook murmured the agreement you came to earlier, right after you made said cake, having at least a little decency to look guilty.

You stared at your boyfriend, trying to figure out why he decided it would be okay to start eating the cake you spent almost a day baking, having to let it cool for a couple hours before you iced it. 

It was the day of the 10th anniversary party for Bangtan’s debut and you were asked, well, more like bribed by Jimin and Taehyung to bake the cake this year. They could never get enough of your baked goods, often doing whatever they could to sneak them from the bakery whenever they showed up.

“Baby, I’m sorry! It just looked so good! I couldn’t help myself.” Jungkook got up from his seat at the kitchen island and moved towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and trying his hardest to pout his lips as he spoke. 

“Everything you bake is just soooooo good, baby!” Jungkook knew he needed to up his antics, now trying to turn you away from the cake and press you against the island, stepping in between your legs to get even closer to you. 

You just let him move you around, enjoying whenever he manhandled you. You couldn’t help it, you found Jungkook’s strength so attractive. You watched him lean in, kissing you on the lips and then felt as he slowly moved down, kissing your jaw and then down to your neck where he knew you soft spot was. 

A sigh left your lips once he found it and your grip on his bicep weakened just a little. Jungkook knew he had you where he wanted you. He could see the anger leaving your body, the tension leaving your shoulders as you relax even further into his grip, allowing him to grab you by your hips and sit you on the counter behind you. 

“I’m still mad at you.” You let out, sighing at the feeling of him against you. Jungkook couldn’t have that though, and pulled back a little bit so he could see the small pout against your lips. 

“Please forgive me, baby. I’ll do anything.” He had no clue that he was doing exactly what you wanted him to do, playing right into the palm of your hand. 

Secretly, you had made a second cake, just in case something happened to the first one. It wouldn’t be the first time one of the boys had gotten into the cake before it was time, you just didn’t expect it to be your boyfriend this time. 

But you didn’t let him know that, yet.

“Anything?” You questioned, pulling back from him again and resting your hand on his shoulder. 

Jungkook looked a little taken back, but still nodded his head at your question. He really did feel bad that he let his impulse take over and eat the cake you worked so hard to make for their party.

“I’ll think about my request later. For now, will you get the cake out of the freezer and put it in the box? We’re going to be late for the party.” You pushed him away so you could get down, trying hard not to laugh at the dumbfounded expression on his face. 

“What? Baby, what do you mean?” Jungkook called out after you but you just shut the door to the bedroom behind you. 

Walking over to the freezer, Jungkook sees an almost identical cake to the one he almost finished eating. 

“Aish, this girl.” He laughed out, seeing now he had been played, intentionally or not. Either way, he still did as he was told, carefully placing the finished cake into the carrying box you had left out on the counter. 

It had been a while since you got in a teasing mood, and he couldn’t wait to see what you thought was an adequate punishment for him later tonight. 

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #jungkook x bakery owner reader #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x reader #bakery owner reader #bts #bts jungkook imagine #bts imagines #fluff #bluemari23