#baby sale au

[tennessoui]

Number 19 for the prompt thing. The parents meeting because of their kids. I’m kinda imagining Korkie being like a tutor/school reading buddy for the twins or something but you can just ignore that if it doesn’t match your thoughts on it.

hello!! i thought back as much as i could, and i don't think i actually did this prompt the first time around a couple of years ago, so there's nothing to link to save for the prompt list!

i stuck with korkie as obi-wan's kid and the twins as anakin's, but made the kids the same age and then took...a few more liberties with the prompt haha

(19. parents meeting while taking their kids to class) (sort of)

(2.8k)

“Leia, baby, why do you always decide to get into fights at school when it’s my week with you?” Anakin asks the steering wheel as he buckles himself in and turns over the engine. “They’re going to start thinking I’m raising a truant. Then they’re going to start asking about your home life, then they’re going to bring in experts to ask me more questions, then Padmé’s parents are going to throw their considerable legal weight around and get my partial custody revoked and then where will we be? Is that what you want? To only see me on your birthday and Christmas?”

Anakin pauses and reconsiders. Knowing his daughter, she may very well only want to see him for birthdays and Christmases. It would mean double the presents.

Thankfully the silence of the car doesn’t offer much in the way of constructive critique.

At a red light, he puts his head down on the steering wheel for a long enough moment that the car behind him honks when the light changes to green.

“They’re going to stop letting me leave work to come get you,” Anakin mutters a few minutes later as he turns the car into the school’s parking lot. “I have a partner meeting in thirty minutes that I really can’t miss, baby. Can’t you at least schedule your schoolyard fights around my calendar?”

It’s all rather pointless, but it feels good to grumble and bitch in the time it takes him to leave his office and arrive at the school, before he has to put on his adult face and demeanor to sit through another round of We’re Worried Your Five Year Old Is Too Violent As She Seems To View The Monkey Bars As Sacrificial Zones.

“Maybe she’d like hockey,” he says under his breath as he grabs his jacket from the other seat and swings it over his suit. It’s fucking freezing already, not even December. It’s indecent, that’s what it is. Surely a place as cold as this has a peewee hockey team in need of another angry little girl.

“Thank you,” he says when a woman holds the door open for him on her way out the building.

He’s stil sort of freaked out that the elementary school his children are going to is fancy enough to have an entrance hallway with a chandelier hanging from the ceilingk, but it’s not him that’s paying for their private school education that doesn’t offer discounts for all the collective hours they’ll spend napping on the floors.

To the immediate left of the door is the receptionist’s desk—behind her, the nurse’s room. He’s quite familiar with both. Mrs. Whitsdale even waves when she sees him, which means, unfortunately, she’s just made the shortlist of people Anakin needs to make Christmas cookies for. She joins the ranks of everyone else that’s been made to deal with his son and daughter in the tumultuous year after the divorce.

“Hi, ma’am,” he says dutifully, sticking his head into the receptionist area. “Do I need to sign in or can I just go up?”

She waves him away. “I’ve already got you, sweetheart. You’re late anyway, they’re waiting for you upstairs.”

“You’re a miracle amongst men,” he calls out as he turns instead to the right of the door and up the old staircase that leads to the principal’s office. This is also a route he is incredibly familiar with.

How can he be late? He practically flew here on light feet and broken speed limits. It’s enough to take his mood from bad to worse, which isn’t optimal for a meeting with the principal of the school when it’s his kid who caused the fight. Anakin’s role is to nonconfrontational, contrite to the point of groveling—because he knows his daughter won’t. 

That’s already hard enough when he’s feeling normal. It’s practically impossible when he’s feeling foul.

But Padmé did always say Leia got her stubbornness and temper from Anakin.

Anakin’s always said Leia never really had a chance considering who her parents are. 

After all, someone threw a hairdryer at the hotel mirror before they got divorced and it wasn’t Anakin. But he’s not stupid enough to even think that when Padmé’s around.

The big oak door at the end of the hallway on the second floor is elaborate, looks heavy, and stays closed. He knows that this is the headmaster’s office, but he’s never seen the guy around. He doesn’t even know what the guy does. What’s a headmaster of an elementary school doing every day? 

It’s an elementary school.

But, again. Anakin’s not paying for all this pomp and circumstance.

He takes another right instead, down the corridor in the opposite direction to the principal’s office. The door’s left ajar, and Anakin knocks politely before entering at the call to.

A couple of things bring him up short as soon as he steps into the room. For one thing, it’s not Principal Cinoff behind the desk, but a stranger who has the remnants of a three-piece suit on, jacket hanging neatly on a coat rack in the corner of the room. His vest is a deep red that should do nothing but drain his complexion—all pasty white skin, freckled and sun-starved, paired with his reddish hair and beard. It doesn’t, which is unfair to the point of duplicity. Or–something.

The way he’s sitting at the desk, hands spread wide on the wood and shoulders back, leaves no doubt in Anakin’s mind that the stranger is in a position of power here at the school. And probably in, like. Life. He looks like the kind of guy who gets his groceries on discount even without providing a loyalty card. He also looks like the kind of guy the system bends to accommodate. As a lawyer, Anakin is offended and deeply disturbed. That’s why his stomach does two or three flips in quick succession when they make eye contact.

The stranger’s eyes are cool and focused as they run over Anakin, and he gives him a perfunctory incline of his head. At least his eyes are warmer when they fall to the kids in front of him. 

And that’s the other thing that shocks him.

The amount of children in front of the desk. One pouting ginger kid off to the side, arms crossed and staring down at his light-up sneakers.

And then two very familiar heads of hair on the other side. 

“Luke?” He asks before he can stop himself, surprise dripping from his tone. “What are you doing here?”

At this rate, he’s going to give his daughter a complex, he knows it.

But Luke has never been in trouble before. Sure, they’re only five, and it’s only been three months of school, but in that time, Anakin’s been called down here six times to deal with Leia-related emergencies. He’s always imagined that meanwhile, Luke was in his classroom, chewing on crayons or diligently helping the teacher pass out homework assignments.

The stand-in principal coughs slightly and rises. “Ah, Mr. Skywalker-Amidala. Thank you for being able to join us today.”

Anakin scowls automatically before schooling his face into something far more diplomatic and pleasant when his children whirl around in their seats to look at him. The last thing he needs is for his children to think they can sneer at authority figures, given that he’s one of their main authority figures. 

Luke leaves his chair to hug onto his leg, pressing his small face into the fabric of his pants, presumably seeking comfort and also to wipe his face dry of tears and snot.

Anakin puts a hand on his head and strokes through his hair, darting a curious glance at Leia, who has turned around to glare forward again, arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s just Skywalker, actually,” he tells the stranger. “Amidala is their mother.”

The man’s eyebrow goes up and he picks up a pen to make a note on the papers before him. An actual note. Regarding Anakin’s divorce. “Ah, apologies then,” he says. “Our contact list notes you as the father, Skywalker-Amidala, and their mother as Amidala-Organa.”

Anakin squints, trying to decide if the stranger is just trying to correct a clerical error in the school’s records or fishing for gossip. He gives him the benefit of the doubt. “Amidala is their mother, recently remarried to Organa. Organas. And she’s always been better at remembering to file paperwork than I am.”

The stranger keeps his face admirably placid. “Ah,” he says. “Well, Mr. Skywalker. Should we begin?”

“Uh,” he says. “What about the other parent?”

The stranger blinks at him, both eyebrows raised. “I’m a widower.”

“Uh,” he says. “I meant…” he gestures at the other child, the surly looking ginger kid.

“I’m afraid it will just be us, Mr. Skywalker,” the stranger says. “Please, sit.”

Anakin sits, and Luke is quick to scramble up into his lap with a very plaintative, “I didn’t really mean to.”

“So at recess today, the children were playing on the swings,” the stranger who must be the principal for the day says. “And—”

“Sorry,” Anakin interrupts. “Can I get your name please? I was expecting Principal Cinoff.”

The man pauses. “Sheri has been put on sudden maternity-leave a few months early,” he says. “For the next couple of weeks, I’ll be dual-hatting as both principal and headmaster while we continue to search for a temporary replacement.” He raises an eyebrow at Anakin. Anakin really doesn’t appreciate that. “This was in an email the school sent out to all the parents recently.”

“Yes, well,” Anakin says. “I get a lot of emails.”

The man looks unimpressed. “I encourage you to prioritize the communications from your children’s learning institute.”

Anakin bristles. What a dick. Who the fuck says learning institute?

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” he asks in his best unimpressed voice.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the man’s unimpressed voice is ten times more chilling than Anakin’s, which is also not fair. “Please, call me Dr. Kenobi.” Anakin scowls. “I appreciate the fact that you feel as though you can cover the extremely busy roles of both headmaster and principal of an elementary school, but I would really rather wait until the other parent gets here so we can most productively discuss the altercation, Mr. Kenobi.”

“Please, Mr. Skywalker,” Kenobi says. “Leave the litigation to the court rooms, we—”

“It’s Esquire, actually.”

Kenobi’s face grows very pinched around the mouth and eyebrows. Anakin feels a vicious thrill course through him even as his stomach flips again.

“I suppose I should have made it clearer at the beginning of this session,” Kenobi says, tone dripping in you idiot. “This is my son, Korkie.”

Anakin’s mouth falls open. His immediate thought is, of course, Korkie Kenobi? And he thought Luke and Leia were too cutesy for twin names.

“Korkie is a family name,” Kenobi adds rather dryly. “My late wife’s grandfather’s.”

Anakin doubts that’s even true. He bets it’s not actually, that Kenobi just plays the dead wife card to get out of judgemental questions about his naming abilities.

But then another, worse thought occurs to Anakin. “Wait a second, you can’t be the parent and the principal!”

“I assure you, I am impartial.”

“Like hel—heck you are!” Anakin straightens in his seat and Luke lets out a grumble, clinging tightly to his front. “I demand a different authority.” “No,” Kenobi says firmly, as if the matter is at rest. This, of course, is absolutely infuriating.

“It’s unfair bias and I will not see either of my children punished in a tyrannical and self-serving institution—”

Kenobi pinches at the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Skywalker, unless you would like to have me call Mrs. Cinoff away from her pre-mature baby, I am the best option this school has. Please. Settle down.”

“Dad,” Leia says, “I don’t want to miss reading time.”

Anakin breathes out in disgust. Shitty, overpriced private school. This sort of thing would never happen at a publicly funded school.

“The fact of the matter is that Luke pushed Korkie off the swings,” Kenobi says with a stern look at both Luke and Anakin. He holds up his hand when Anakin opens his mouth. “An incident that many were witness to. And before you make an accusation, there were many witnesses who were not on the school’s payroll, Mr. Skywalker.”

Anakin closes his mouth sullenly.

“Korkie could have been very hurt, Luke,” Kenobi says, clasping his hands in front of him and looking down at Anakin’s son. “He was swinging pretty fast when you pushed him, and he could have broken his ankle in the fall.”

Luke’s bottom lip trembles. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” he mumbles, turning his face back into Anakin’s sleeve. “He was being mean. I just wanted him to stop.” “I wasn’t!” Korkie cries, sitting straight in his chair for the first time since Anakin’s arrived. “I wasn’t being mean, dad!” “You said Leia’s hair looks like cinnamon buns on her head!” Luke shouts back, pushing away from Anakin’s arms to glare at the other boy. 

Anakin winces. When it’s Padmé’s turn with the kids, Leia always turns up to school with elaborately braided hair, twisted on top of her head in elegant formations that look effortlessly pretty. He knows that’s not Padmé’s work, but he also can’t figure out if Breha or Bail is responsible. It’s not something he wants to ask.

The fanciest Anakin can do, after all, is two buns on either side of Leia’s head. 

That do, truth be told, look rather like cinnamon rolls.

“Ah,” Kenobi says. “I believe I understand the miscommunication here. Korkie, would you like to tell the Skywalkers what you meant when you told Luke that Leia’s hair looked like cinnamon buns?”

If possible, the kid turns even more red, blushing furiously. “I really like cinnamon buns,” he mutters, crossing his arms tighter. “They’re my favorite.”

“He’s started asking for them for breakfast several times a week,” Kenobi tells Anakin with a smile lingering around his lips. “I’ve been wondering why.”

Anakin isn’t sure he likes the explanation. Sure, Korkie can have whatever sort of crush on his daughter that he wants to have, but likening her hair to cinnamon buns isn’t very kind, and he’s pretty sure that if someone else was the judge in this trial, they wouldn’t be so quick to justify the other boy’s words.

Luke seems to agree with him. “Your hair looks like carrots,” he snaps, crossing his arms.

Because Anakin is an intelligent adult who understands that making enemies with the headmaster’s son isn’t the best move, he adds on the Skywalker family’s behalf, “Luke loves carrots.”

Luke, in fact, hates carrots. 

“There is still the matter of Luke pushing Korkie off the swing,” Kenobi says, eyebrows raised like he understands exactly what’s going unsaid here. “We do not encourage physical violence of any sort here, and it was dangerous. Korkie could have been hurt much more badly than a scraped knee.”

The words are very serious and grave, and Luke wilts under the headmaster-principal-father’s disappointed stare. Anakin bristles.

“Well, it’s his first infraction,” he says. “And he was sticking up for his sister. I think that’s fair. He won’t do it again.”

“Hm,” Kenobi says, pushing papers aside and pulling out a glossy leaflet. “Now, I cannot force you to consider this, but I noticed that neither Luke nor Leia are currently enrolled in any of our extracurriculars.”

“They’re five.”

“We have many on offer at Jedi Prepatory School,” Kenobi continues as if Anakin hasn’t said anything. “And I wanted to highlight our peewee hockey league. I think both Leia and Luke would enjoy the rigorous schedule, and they may…benefit from the…structure it offers. And team activity.”

Anakin glowers. He can read between the lines. Kenobi’s just called his parenting style structureless and lazy. It makes him want to grab the pamphlet and rip it to shreds in front of him. “I would have to talk about it with their mother,” he says stiffly instead.

“Of course,” Kenobi says cheerfully. “When you do, please give Bail and Breha my well-wishes as well. It’s been far too long since I’ve had the time to see them, given how exhastingly busy it is to be the headmaster and principal of an elementary school.”

“Right,” Anakin grits out. “Yeah. I’ll let my ex-wife’s new partners know.”

Kenobi’s smile is all teeth. “I look forward to seeing you in the rink, Mr. Skywalker Esquire. My son plays on the team.”

Anakin wonders if there’s another peewee hockey team he can have his kids join. Just so they can beat Jedi Prepatory school and then laugh in Korkie and Dr. Kenobi’s faces.

Yeah. That sounds really nice.

He’ll look when he gets back to work.

This takes priority.

#asks #prompt fill #obikin #i actually love writing aus where they're assholes to each other from the start and also insane about the other #anakin definitely finds a different peewee (baby hockey) team for teh twins #and makes sure he can make it to their every game #especially those against jedi prep #so he can spend the entire time sniping at kenobi #this time with gloves off because their kids can't hear them from the ice #rude and mean and barbed enough that all the other parents throw kenobi startled looks #and given them a wide berth #they hate each other they're flirting like mad they sneak away from the school cupcake sale to fuck in the computer lab #anakin has never been more involved in his twins' kindergarten education #neither has dr kenobi

[neurotypical-sonic]

How do you think Amy would react to Baby Sonic?

she would immediately want to buy him some of those really cute baby shoes and tails would go "you know he would destroy them in two seconds flat, right? you know if he runs in them, they'd burst into flames right?"

and she'd go "oh :( yeah you're right" and sulk about it for the rest of the day

#for sale: baby shoes. never worn #egg.txt #sonic #amy #ask #anon #baghog au

[poisonpeche]

I wanna lick Levi’s thighs…

Interested in a Custom Art Commission? Email me at [email protected] for a free consultation & quote. 🖤

Shop my Art Prints, Anime Merch & View my Portfolio

#idk what this is but i kinda love it #levi ackerman #art commissions #baby’s first character sheet #levi ackerman art #i wanna go to a music festival with him 🥲 #my art #art by alla #digital art #artists on tumblr #art prints for sale #art prints #anime #anime art #anime merch #levi art #modern au #custom art #art commissions open #commission #pink

[defloey]

updated stash shot

#WDYM you see a 127 album?? i said i only collect got7/exo!! #hush. #yes i like my albums in sets! #hence got7/last breath/dftf/bambi/wal/1bv #if you see albums with pcy pc's for sale in aus pls lmk!! #i need more room #😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 #plus all the other random merch i have 😭 #baby screams into the void

[kartsie]

@batfam-au-zine is having their leftover sale now!! This was my Dr. Wayne piece I got to contribute ft. Teenage Dick and baby Tim

#my art #batfam #batfamily #batfam au #batfam au zine #batman #bruce wayne #dr Wayne au #tim drake #dick grayson #doctor au #grumpy baby Tim and his skateboard my fav duo #dc comics

[aestherin]

— KEEP MY HEART ♡

scaramouche x f!reader social media au

SUMMARY — you find plenty of guys around you attractive, but there is only one you’re willing to make the first move on: the guy you first saw during your older brother’s soccer game. spoiler: he's a player from your rival university.

status: on-going | taglist: closed

genres: social media au, college au, strangers to lovers, crack, fluff, a sprinkle of angst (?), modern au, i wanted to do smth chill haha

extras: kmh playlist is still a wip, but if you're interested in checking it out, [click here] 🤍

author's notes:

omg 2nd smau is here!!

updates may be inconsistent, i don't have a posting schedule

again, idk what i'm doing haha

english is not my first language so expect grammatical and typographical errors (bear with me please :"D)

will contain swearing

PLAYERS.

— SL4YERS — the reds — the blued

SCOREBOARD.

game start ! (prologue)

— FIRST HALF

goal 01. i feel something ¬ goal 02. live a good life goal 03. let's play chess ¬ goal 04. do you like cats goal 05. a proof to your claim ¬ goal 06. am i being rejected goal 07. my baby ¬ goal 08. happy birthday goal 09. do you like sweets ¬ goal 10. i'm loyal, sir goal 11. my name ¬ goal 12. ghosted goal 13. unbothered ¬ goal 14. stupid is the new sexy goal 15. call me baby ¬ goal 16. i'm taking you out goal 17. kuni

— HALF TIME

goal 18. i can teach you ¬ goal 19. one thing goal 20. home ¬ goal 21. available for sale goal 22. welcome ig ¬ goal 23. note to self goal 24. tba ¬ goal 25. it was boring goal 26. tba ¬ goal 27. tba

— SECOND HALF

tba

TAGLIST I @lady-elodie @aiikalvr @lovely-althxa @unsterblich-prinz @xiaosonlybeloved @xiaomainlmao @cindywasneverhere @coquettemaiden @sunsethw4 @lunavixia @calickoh @arealistonao3 @lowkeyivorie @zyilas @mondaymelon @yukiipc @heartswonder @st0pthatsgay @ozzierenato @astreaa-express @shewolfmiko @lovelyycherries @myaaones @countessqin @aloveablechaos @letthewindlead @lunaavity @local-blueberry-boy @luminestars @layla240 @useless-potatho @atlaszi @alatusorrow @lahsram2201 @sakiimeo @user11918163805279 @vqazx @neigesprincess @kunicrush @yoursockstinks @hotgirlshit5 @mikctp @crucnhice @apotatouwu @yuaenri @sammybeefangirls @miko1ly @deffenferofjustice @etherisy @sagegreenthinks

i cant mention more than 50 people in one post so the other taglists will be in the reblogs instead!! 🤍

#ri.masterlists #ri.writes #aestherin #keep my heart smau #genshin #genshin au #genshin modern au #scaramouche smau #scara smau #wanderer smau #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scara x reader #genshin smau #genshin fics #genshin social media au #genshin soccer au #scara social media au #kunikuzushi #social media au #keep my heart #scaramouche #scara #wanderer #balladeer #balladeer smau #genshin x you #text fic #genshin impact

[kjhmyg]

blooming

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader trope: sunshine oc x grumpy jk au: florist!oc x tattoo artist!jk wc: 1k

a drabble request from anon for sunshine protector jk. honestly was doubting the capability of writing jk as a grump but anon, i hope i did it justice and i hope you like it! <3

the tiny bells attached to the entrance chimes as you enter the shop, the smell of fresh flowers greeting you so kindly in the morning. the hour leading up to opening is one of your favourite parts of the day. your flowers are your babies; you sing to them, you change their water, place them gently back into their little spaces, assemble new bouquets to put up for sale, then choose which ones go up front on the daily display.

upstairs, you hear the clinking and clanking of your neighbours. the tattoo parlour above starts a little later than your flower shop, usually seeing their first customer around noon. an unlikely combination, one which leaves most of their clients confused as they step inside, till you point out the steps to the right of your shop which leads up to the parlour. 

but you don’t complain. it brings a nice mix to your client pool. besides, your other favourite part of the day is getting to see your favourite tattoo artist. 

“ahem⎼”

you turn on your heel, snapping out of your thoughts. putting on your best service voice, you were ready to greet a customer, only to find the next best thing. “oh,” your face softens, “good morning jungkook.” 

“morning.” he leans against your counter and nods to the spread of flowers laid out on the long table behind you. “are those flowers that interesting? didn’t even hear me come through the doors, did you?”

“sorry,” you smile brightly, and he can’t help but to mirror it. “i was looking through this customer’s request. it’s a little odd.” 

“why?” 

“because see,” you bring the request ticket over from the table and lean over the counter so he can see it, “these flowers don’t go well together at all. and i know, i know, it’s a custom order. but as a florist, i should be able to tell them if i think it’s not a good combination right? i mean the colours are all over the place. look, you can’t have too many bold colours together, it’ll take away the beauty from each flower. plus it'll look so messy. but at the same time it’s their choice and they are paying for it so i don’t know.” 

jungkook looks at you with a blank expression. his arms are crossed on the counter, and his freshly washed hair rests nicely on his shoulders, curved at the ends. 

“what?” you ask him, shrugging like you didn’t just spit out an entire rant contemplating someone’s custom order.

“is it really that deep?” 

you give him an exasperated look. of course he wouldn’t get it.

he raises a brow, then smirks at your silence. you’re never quiet. not for long anyways. for a moment he wonders if he's hurt your feelings. he tends to do that sometimes. “i’m sure you’ll figure it out. besides, bold colours can look good together.” 

“but not always.” you drum your fingers on the counter, pursing your lips in thought. 

jungkook keeps staring. till your eyes flutter back to him, and you lock eyes for far too long and your heart starts racing. he blinks away first. dropping his bag and leaving his helmet on your counter, he walks across your shop and takes a look around before plucking out four flowers. two yellow flowers and two black ones. 

“hey!” you protest, “those are expensive!” 

jungkook ignores your nagging. he places them on the counter top and pairs them up, one yellow daisy with one black hellebore. then he starts intertwining their stems, creating a tiny knot at the bottom for each pair. the yellow and black flowers sit nicely next to the other. “see? they look good together, don’t they?” 

he reaches over and places one of them into the front pocket of your apron. the other, he slides across the counter in front of you. 

“or maybe not,” he shrugs, “you’re the florist here.” 

“execution could be better,” you giggle, admiring the flowers in your palm, “but it’s cute. maybe you should rethink your career. come and work with me instead!” 

jungkook lingers just to watch the way your eyes twinkle as you twirl the flowers between your fingers. all he did was tie two flowers together, yet you act like a kid with a new toy. and when you look up at him again and give him the widest grin, he decides it’s time to go (else he’d spend the entire day down here). 

he starts collecting his belongings, swinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his headgear. “oh,” he says, remembering, “this is for you.” 

he’d placed the cup carrier aside earlier while talking to you. jungkook checks the order plastered on the side of the cup before placing it in front of you. 

“wait but,” you start, “i don’t drink cof⎼”

“it’s earl grey.” 

your smile drops momentarily out of surprise. you had mentioned a while ago how you couldn’t stand the taste of coffee. 

“later, flower girl.” jungkook makes a turn for the steps. 

after the first few steps, he pauses when he feels something tugging on his arm. he turns to find you standing there, with the flower he’d made earlier in your hand. getting on your tiptoes, you tuck his hair back and gently place the daisy and hellbore combination behind his ear. 

“aw, you look pretty!” his brows furrow and you know he’s probably going to remove it as soon as he makes it up the steps but you don’t care. you wrap around him briefly before letting go. “thank you.” 

before he can say anything else, the bell chimes and you welcome your first customer of the day. jungkook walks up the steps with a roll of his eyes, listening to how excited you get as you go through your collection of flowers. how you could be so chirpy at this hour, he’ll never understand.

upstairs, he drops his stuff in his corner and brings suga his cup of coffee while sipping on his own. the older friend, sanitising his tools for the day, stops mid-clean. “what the hell is that?”

he refers to the flower behind jungkook’s ear. “oh. nothing.” 

“ah…” suga smiles, accepting his drink. “you and flower girl have been getting along well.” 

“she’s nice to talk to.” jungkook says, not thinking much of it. suga scoffs, knowing his friend too well. 

jungkook walks back to his corner, removing the flowers. his hand hovers over the trash can, flowers in his palm. he looks at it again, then smiles. instead, he places them on his desk, right next to the pressed flower coaster you had given him months back. he chuckles, looking at the contrast of these items to the rest of his workspace. 

sighing, he starts his day, with a flower blooming in his heart.

#jungkook x you #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #it's been a while!!! #i forget how exciting it is to post

[pseudowho]

Post-ShibuyaAU! Grey Nanami Kento Headcanons, Part 2

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

As an accompaniment to my story, Grey (link here); an AU where Nanami survives Shibuya exploration because I'm never going to be over his loss.

Part 1 of Greynami Headcanons, link here

Christmas Greynami Headcanons, link here

Warnings: Severe injury (burns, eye loss), PTSD, alcohol use, depression, light smut, angst, AU headcanons

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Before he met you:

AU!Nanami Kento who takes up smoking again, a habit he had while working as a salaryman. His voice becomes rougher, more gravelly, irritated by the tobacco.

AU!Nanami Kento whose parents weep and stroke his healed burned face the first time they see him post-Shibuya, devastated by the suffering their little boy has experienced.

AU!Nanami Kento who sees that pain in his mothers' eyes every time he visits her. She can't help it. She's just heartbroken she couldn't keep her baby safe.

AU!Nanami Kento who begins to screen his parents' calls, not visit for dinner like he used to, and sends birthday gifts in the post instead of in person. Causing them distress by exposing them to his brutal injuries is a stress he's too fragile to cope with.

AU!Nanami Kento who listens to his fathers' long voicemails every night after a few drinks.

AU!Nanami Kento who often doesn't go home between missions, sleeping against walls in old buildings instead, a cold uncomfortable sleep preferable to a deep sleep with nightmares.

AU!Nanami Kento who alters his wardrobe after his tie, which he was unusually fond of, was destroyed by Jogo's flames. He can't find the tie for sale anymore. His beige suits just don't feel the same without it.

AU!Nanami Kento gives the last vestiges of his emotional energy to Yuuji, knowing he needs support, not wanting Yuuji to know he's struggling, not wanting to add more to Yuuji's already full plate.

AU!Nanami Kento who used to daydream about being a father one day, but now, being loved and giving love in return feels so remote and unlikely

After he meets you:

AU!Nanami Kento who tries to hide his trauma at first, afraid it will be too much baggage for you.

AU!Nanami Kento who is grateful to the very depths of his soul when you make it clear that he could never be too traumatised to be loved; you are each others' therapist, confidant, and sexy best friend.

AU!Nanami Kento, who struggles through reducing his alcohol and cigarette intake, with your steadfast support.

AU!Nanami Kento whose home screen photo is one of you asleep, snuggled into his chest, drooling; you hate it, he absolutely refuses to change it.

AU!Nanami Kento who confesses to you on one snowy evening walk; he tells you the moon looks beautiful tonight and you're on tiptoes kissing him before he can even finish his sentence.

AU!Nanami Kento who takes up baking bread overnight if he can't sleep, the process cathartic and soothing. You know he's had a bad night when you wake up to warm bakery smells.

AU!Nanami Kento and you, whose home becomes a refuge for all the kids who know where the spare key is hidden.

AU!Nanami Kento who has made up the spare room for Yuuta, Inumaki and Nobara at separate points in just one week.

AU!Nanami Kento, who makes sure you buy extra bottles of burn ointment, and delivers them to Maki when he gets the chance.

AU!Nanami Kento, stood at the bathroom counter which you sit on, facing him, your legs wrapped around his hips, as you gently shave around his scars. Kento rests his hands on your waist, slipping his fingers under your shirt, just to feel your skin.

AU!Nanami Kento, whose towel comes loose and drops to the floor, staring into your eyes in challenge. You last a few seconds before your eyes flick down, drinking in the beautiful nudity of him.

AU!Nanami Kento who immediately throws you over his shoulder, and carries you to your bedroom while you squeal and laugh, being promptly de-clothed by him.

AU!Nanami Kento who behaves the second time you sit on the counter, to finish the job you started; he looks at you with a naughty glint in his eye.

AU!Nanami Kento who, with your support and continuous company on his missions, finds his power grows rapidly; he manages five black flashes in a row, and feels he may be nearing domain establishment.

AU!Nanami Kento who, after a rocky start with Higuruma Hiromi, becomes his firm friend, forming an intensely unstoppable duo. Ino is only a little bit jealous.

AU!Nanami Kento who finally calls his parents with your encouragement. He can't help but tell them about you immediately. They're thrilled, and want you round for dinner as soon as possible.

AU!Nanami Kento who is mortified as you and his mother coo over his baby photos.

AU!Nanami Kento who is stunned into silence when, in the car on the way home, you wonder out loud if your babies will look more like you or him.

AU!Nanami Kento who throws you into bed the moment you get home, face between your legs and drunk on the taste and sounds of you, until you're begging him to come closer; he graciously complies, his mind full of your future home, tiny footsteps and laughter as you cling to him in bliss.

AU!Nanami Kento who goes looking for rings on his days off; it's a huge decision, and one he ponders over for months, so in the meantime, he buys you a watch which perfectly matches his own.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

More love for Greynami. I'll do some bigger stories at some point too.

Part 1 of Greynami Headcanons link here

Thanks as always to @silkspunweb for being my muse and fellow unhinged friend.

#jjk #kento nanami #jjk nanami #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #jujustu kaisen #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento smut #jjk fluff #nanami headcanons #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you

[luvhughes43]

is it over now? | jack hughes

part two of the beginning

au masterlist⭐️

note: i switched to first person pov for this story just to test it out. Inbox me if you’d want to go back to 3rd person.

warnings: pregnancy, birth

word count: 4.7k

the doctors waiting room is cold and uninviting. i stare up at all the pregnancy posters that litter the walls, and soon my gaze falls to all the mothers and all the fathers. they all sit, talking quietly amongst themselves. the women are gorgeously radiant, and if this were any other time i’d compare their beauty to mine. 

instead, i linger on the way they interact with their husbands, boyfriends, whatever. small touches, whispers, and smiles all burn into my mind like a useless cd. 

“y/n l/n?” a nurse in all blue interrupts my thoughts, she gestures for me to follow her and i do. 

like the waiting room, the small room i’m brought into is cold. i wonder briefly what jacks doing right now. if he had gotten my message or if he’s still asleep. i try to imagine his reaction but i can’t bring myself to conjure up an accurate depiction of him. everything is off - and i fear if i keep trying to imagine this man who’s not my jack, that i’ll somehow forget the real one. 

“we’re just going to do some tests, all very basic things. i need to know your medical history, and i’ll have to do a complete physical assessment,” a doctor walks into the room, clipboard in hand. she doesn’t look at me as she speaks, but I absentmindedly nod to her words anyway. 

“Okay so, is this your first pregnancy?” the doctor asks. 

“Yes” i nod.

“And, do you have any medical history I should be aware of? Past procedures, family history, etc” the doctor looks up from their notes and i pause. 

“Uh, i -” my cell phone buzzes in my purse and i quickly reach for it. Its a notification from sephora, something about how there’s a last minute sale and that i should buy some overpriced body spray. 

“I had my tonsils taken out when I was five, but other than that i’ve had no other procedures” my words come out shaky, as if i’m confused. i turn my phone over again, willing for another notification to pop up. It’s 11:40am, and jack is definitely awake by now. 

the doctor calls a nurse in to prep for the examination. everythings a blur as i lean back. the nurse, short with reddish-blonde hair, has to ask me to lift up the bottom of my shirt twice. 

“And if you look over here, this is where your baby is,” the doctor is confident in her speech as she shifts the little wand around my stomach. 

the appointment was nightmarish. 

the nurse sent me home with a little packet of information sheets, all different colours and all about different things. i don’t want to look at them, so i shove them into the bottom of my purse when i get out of the office. 

⋆ ★

vivienne always made sure to wake up an hour before jack. she liked to make herself a fancy coffee with her espresso machine, and she liked to plan out her events for the day. she had decided that they’d go to the grocery store sometime before noon, hit the mall for an outfit to wear to dinner, and then of course dinner with viviennes friends at 7. 

after her coffee, Vivienne tiptoed her way back into her bedroom. she was proud of the fact that Jack liked to stay here. she made sure her bedding was always fresh and clean when he was over, and she made sure to spray a little bit of her perfume on his pillows so he’d get used to falling asleep to the scent of her. 

Vivienne grabbed a hold of Jack's phone on his nightstand, and slowly slid it off the side of the table and into the palm of her hand. she turned it over, bombarded with the amount of notifications that littered his phone screen. she slid up, quickly typing his passcode. she had to be mindful of her next moves. she didn’t have long to do her routine digging. 

“It’s not really fair for you to be with vivienne if you still have feelings for y/n”

“will you drop it? you were the one who told me to go for viv”

“Jack-”

“No! Dawson, you were the one who begged me to move on. I am. What happened with me and y/n-"Jack cuts himself off. “what happened.. It’s done now. leave me alone” 

Vivienne recalled the conversation she overheard a few weeks ago and she couldn’t shake it from her mind. So, she did what any girlfriend would do and searched the girls username on instagram. 

She hadn’t thought y/n would be any type of problem in hers and Jack's relationship. That was until Jack and Vivienne were laying in bed, with Jack wanting to show Vivienne a picture he had taken a while ago on a roadie. He was scrolling past his photo albums when she saw it. The “it” being a photo album titled “❤️” filled with pictures of jack and y/n at art galleries and whatnot. 

Ynuser: 1 dm request

Accept | Delete

Vivienne clicked onto the dm, and when she saw the words pregnant and yours her blood ran cold. She angled her body away from Jack, and with his reassuring snores clouding her mind, she reread the dm again. 

Jack, I don't even know how to tell you this. It doesn’t feel right. But, I took a pregnancy test and it came back positive. I’ve booked an appointment with my obgyn for tomorrow and they’re going to confirm the test for me. You're the only person that I've been with since we’ve gotten together so it’s for sure yours. If you need a paternity test or anything at all just let me know and we can sort it out. Please reach out and we can talk about this in person. I’m sorry.

“Fuck” Vivienne cursed as she clicked Jacks phone off. She turned around and stared at the man in question while debating her options. 

Letting Jack find the message on his own was the most obvious answer but… would he still want to be with her when he found out about the baby? If it even is his, Vivienne rolled her eyes at the thought. 

The next logical option was to delete the message and block the girl. Jack would never have to know, and Vivienne would just have to be the perfect girlfriend for the next little while. She’d make him his favourite foods, dress extra hot, and do everything in her power to make sure he forgot about his ex. 

Vivienne turned Jack's phone on again, and without a second thought, swiftly declined the message request before blocking the girl. 

To make sure her tracks were completely cleared, she searched the girls name up in his contact list and blocked her there as well. 

And, just as quickly as Vivienne had picked up her boyfriends phone, she had set it back down. 

⋆ ★

After the appointment, I was stuck in meetings for the rest of the day with no opportunities to check my phone. During my appointed bathroom breaks, I was too anxious to check. My hands trembled as I hovered over the instagram app, too nervous to see if he had read the message. 

I thought about the next message that I would send all day. Would I send the doctors confirmation? My next appointment date? The reason why I found out about the pregnancy so late? 

When I got out from work, I decided to walk the 45 minutes home instead of taking the Subway. I hoped that the semi-fresh air would clear my mind. 

By the time I unlocked the front door of my apartment, it was 6:45pm. Jack would have gotten out of practice, and he would probably be at home grilling himself a piece of chicken while his rice cooked. 

I pull my boots off and wander into my bathroom. i shut the door behind me, giving myself some privacy from my own space. When I close my eyes, all the memories of Jack and I flicker through my mind like one of those plastic children's cameras.

I take a deep breath, before finally pulling my phone out of my pocket and turning it on. I click into instagram and my stomach drops. 

jackhughes

No posts yet

User not found

what the fuck was i going to do.

⋆ ★

“Claudia!” my voice was hoarse from crying as I pounded on my best friend's door with my fists. I had run all the way to Claudia's apartment, and luckily someone was walking into her apartment complex so I didn't have to buzz in. 

Claudia's door swung open, and she immediately pulled me inside and into her arms. “What's wrong?” she practically cooed, not a stranger to my breakdowns. 

“J-jack he-” I couldn't stomach the rest.

“Babe, slow down… breathe..” Claudia stressed as she started doing breathing exercises for me to copy. I followed her movements, and when I was deemed calm enough she moved me over to sit on her couch. 

I take a few minutes to recover before explaining what happened. 

“I’m going to kill him” Claudia sneered after I had explained the pregnancy, the message, and how my ex boyfriend-turned-baby daddy had blocked me. 

“What am I going to do?” I was crying again. I was bordering on exhaustion as I leaned my head against the back of Claudia's couch and wailed.  

My hand found its place at the top of my stomach, where the faintest baby bump had begun to form. 

⋆ ★

vivienne just added to their story!

vivienne

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, alixearle, and others

vivienne mr nhl man

View all comments

user01 VIVIENNE HAS A BF??

user02 viv baby who is it

user04 vivnation lost

user05 jack and trevor liking ohhh wow…

user06 is it jack?

user07 i thought jack has a gf?

user06 he was seen out with a girl a few times months ago but that was it lol

user08 the nhl girlies lost

⋆ ★

ynuser

liked by claudia, and others

ynuser my baby🤍

View all comments

claudia im a proud honorary aunt❤️

user00 congrats!! 

user01 Congratulations on your pregnancy sweetie! We have to get together sometime soon😘❤️

⋆ ★

the pregnancy was lonely. It was all long hours at work, quiet doctor appointments, and late nights binge sessions watching gossip girl with whatever craving plagued my mind. 

I tried my hardest to stay away from social media, my heart cracking a little more every time jack came across my feed with his rumoured new girlfriend. of course, i knew it wasn’t a rumour, which just made everything more miserable. 

“Do you want to know the gender?” the ultrasound tech asked as she shielded the sonogram screen away from my view. 

I nod, “yes, please”

Claudia squeezes my hand. “Are you sure? I can throw you a gender reveal party if you want? Or we can do something with just the two of us?” 

I didn’t want to hurt Claudias feelings, but it wouldn’t be the same without jack. 

I must have took too long to answer though, because the ultrasound tech looked at me with pity filled eyes as she said, “i’ll put the gender info in an envelope for you to take home”

All i could do was nod. 

⋆ ★

“Im sorry, blair.. But you lost the baby”

“where’s chuck?”

“B, he lost a lot of blood, and he never woke up” 

Gossip girl season 5 played in the background as I picked at my newest pregnancy craving, strawberry cupcakes from a bakery off seventh ave. 

i sighed heavily as i continued watching the show. this has got to be the saddest episode… i thought as blair started praying for chucks survival. As the scene went on, tears pricked my own eyes as i thought about the past five months. 

i was almost done with my 2nd trimester, and i was still refusing to acknowledge my pregnancy. I felt as if i were walking through water, i was restricted in all of my movements and my mind was cloudy like i had just spent all day in the michigan summer sun. 

The episode finished, with blair telling chuck that she loved him but that she couldn’t be with him and that she couldnt tell him why. 

When the screen turned black and i was faced with my reflection, i started sobbing. 

Heavy tears rolled down my cheeks and fell onto my duvet, which turned the cream coloured blanket into spots of grey. 

Without thinking, I rolled out of bed and threw on a thick sweater that I found strewn against a chair backing. I wandered out into my entryway, shoving on a pair of my mini uggs as I searched high and low for that stupid little envelope that my tech gave me. 

It was in my purse, hidden behind a hundred other little things. Once the envelope was grasped firmly in my hands, i ripped open my door and rushed down onto the street. 

I didn’t have a lot of time to think this through. If i placed the order now, everything would be okay and fine...

Truth be told, i was afraid that if i didn’t order a gender reveal cupcake that i would be doing my baby a disservice. I promised to myself that i would be able to do this without jacks support, and yet here i was crumbling under the pressure of motherhood. 

The bakery shop chimed with my arrival, and then i was in the small line up to make an order. 

“Hey, what can i get for you tod-”

“Can i get a gender reveal cupcake? Or one of those little cakes?” i ask, thrusting my envelope into the guy at the registers hands. 

He looked taken aback before responding very politely, “i’m sorry, you’re going to have to make an order online” 

“Oh,” my shoulders sag in disappointment. I hadn't thought far enough ahead. 

the guy stared at the crumpled up envelope in his hand, and then back at me. “Why don’t you go sit down and i’ll figure something out for you,” his voice was kind as he noticed my dishevelled state. 

I nod, and then move to an empty seat in the corner of the bakery. Another employee was sweeping the floors, and i realize that the store must be due to close soon. I need to pull myself together… 

About ten minutes later, the guy from before walked over with a little white box in his hand. On top of the box sat my envelope which was now cleanly cut into. 

“It’s not the prettiest thing in the world,” the guy chuckled as he placed the small box in front of me, “but it should work” 

“Thank you,” i stutter, pulling a crisp $10 bill out of my pocket and handing it over to the guy. 

At first he shakes his head in an attempt to decline the money, but I insist he takes it anyway. 

back at home, i get comfy at my kitchen table where i finally open up my box. It was a vanilla cupcake with white vanilla frosting. 

I take a deep breath before taking a small bite, and when i swallow, i see the remaining pink icing that filled the inside of the cupcake. 

“we’re having a little girl,” i whispered, tears sliding down my cheeks as i rub my bump soothingly. 

⋆ ★

Jack Hughes was stuck. He felt bad for Vivienne and he felt bad for himself. It wasn’t Viviennes fault that his attention was elsewhere because on paper, Vivienne Aiden was probably who most would consider his perfect match. 

Vivienne was gorgeous, she had an online career going for her, and her apartment did smell amazing… but something just wasn’t right. 

When she fell asleep beside him, Jack would pull out his phone and scroll through his photo album full of pictures of his ex-girlfriend. He would wonder what she was doing, what new journalist piece she was working on, and most importantly, if she was happy. He couldn’t bear searching her up online, for fear of seeing she had moved on (which, let's be honest, is very hypocritical of him), so Jack settled with his photo album. 

When Jack finally closed his eyes for the night, he imagined the sleeping figure next to him was his y/n. Vanilla scent was swapped with coconut, a windy spring turned into an endless summer, and the lingering emptiness felt like coming home after a long roadie. 

And in the morning, when y/ns lovely green eyes woke him up, he would blink to find Vivienne staring back at him, and whatever relief he had accustomed himself with in sleep came crashing down again. 

⋆ ★

ynuser posted on their story! 

jackhughes posted on their story!

Vivienne posted on their story!

⋆ ★

Vivienne wasn’t an idiot. she could feel the small shifts in Jack's behaviour. He was slowly distancing himself from her and she wouldn't allow that to happen. 

Therefore, she sent him a teasing photo, planned a romantic dinner at her apartment, and took care of business. 

Create an Account

User: user257483475

ynuser

Dm Request

User257483475: how does it feel knowing that you’re going to be a single mom?

User257483475: must be tough knowing that the daddy doesn’t want it

User257483475: if i were you i wouldn’t even try

Read

⋆ ★

“I can’t believe you're having a little girl!” Claudia squealed as she met me at the front of a baby store. I was now 6 months along, and I hadn’t done any of the necessary baby shopping yet. 

We walked into the store, light pinks and blues and purples clouding my vision. “I can't believe it either! A little girl…” I smile, picking up a little onesie. 

Claudia gets a basket, and we start to make our way through the store. “Have you thought of any names yet?” she asks as she holds up what might've been the cutest baby dress i’ve ever seen. 

I placed the dress in the basket. “I’ve been toying with a few names but it just feels strange” I pick up another little dress and put it in the basket as well. “I’m sure once I see the nursery all together it’ll feel a little more real and i’ll be able to pick something out” 

Claudia smiles at me sympathetically before taking the shopping basket out of my hand and guiding me towards the furniture section.

“I was thinking-” my phone buzzes causing me to pause. I pull out my phone, only to see a few instagram notifications. 

User257483475: viviennes so pretty, i bet you're real jealous huh?

User257483475: jack didn't even want to post you publicly and now he wont even acknowledge his baby… he never loved you.

User257483475: i wish you the worst xx

Read

“y/n? What were you thinking?” Claudia asks, immediately noticing my pause. She walks over to me, one hand on my shoulder as she tries to gauge my facial expressions. “Are you okay?”

I don't want to speak, and so I thrust my phone into Claudia's hands. 

She gasps when she reads the first message from a few weeks ago, and I can feel her tense beside me as she lets her hand drop from my shoulder.

“What the fuck!” she seethes as she stares at all the messages littering my phone.

“How do they know the baby’s Jacks? How do they even know I'm pregnant? My account’s private!” I utter as I close my eyes. 

“Who’s Vivienne?” Claudia asks as she switches out of my dms and onto the search page. I watch her type in Vivienne's name.

“She’s Jack’s girlfriend,” I reply just as Claudia presses on her instagram account. The newest picture on her feed was of her and Jack at some cafe… I felt nauseous. 

“Well, she’s obviously the one sending the messages” my best friend states firmly. Great I thought. Could my life get any more fucked up? 

That night at home, I easily verifiy that it was Vivienne behind the account. For all the scheming she liked to do, she wasn’t very good at covering her tracks. 

First, I used my laptop to try and log into her main instagram account. When I got the password wrong, I clicked the option for instagram to send a code for password resetting via email. The email, half unblurred, showed up on screen. Then, i moved onto the account who’s been sending me nasty messages. Repeated the process, and wouldn’t you know! Vivienne Aiden didn’t doesn’t know how to make a fake email for her fake account, that she uses to harass her boyfriend's ex! Nice. 

With that little confirmation, I blocked both her and the account she’s using to send me messages. 

⋆ ★

My baby’s nursery is painted a soft pink. Her crib is a beige wood, and there’s white flowy curtains with a blackout curtain set underneath. flower prints decorate the walls, and my baby’s name is highlighted on a beautiful homemade blanket which was gifted to me by one of my coworkers. 

“Are you ready, baby?” my mom asks to which I nod. I watch her silently as her hands weave between different sets of baby clothes.

She’s helping me get the nursery finished for babygirls birth next month. 

“I’m nervous, but i’m ready,” I smile, waddling over to the blush pink rocking chair that sits in the corner of the room. 

⋆ ★

“i’m not ready! i need jack!” i cry, squeezing my eyes shut tight as pain overtook my body. i could hear the nurses faintly in the background of my own thoughts, shouting something about an excess of blood. 

a group of nurses stand around me, all shouting different orders to one another. “ma’am you’re bleeding-“ 

“i need, i just need-“ 

a sweet looking nurse cut me off. “sweetie, you’re going to be alright. just breathe, i’ll be right here with you this whole time!” she grabs ahold of my hand to which i squeeze tightly. 

the room spins and my whole body feels cold. I could tell that the nurses started going about their business from all the pinching and poking that was going on, but i couldn’t figure out where all the pain was coming from.

⋆ ★

“Mommy?” I whispered. My mom whipped her head in my direction upon my words. 

“Oh sweetie,” she coos, tears lingering in her eyes as she sits on the edge of my hospital bed. she grabs ahold of my hand. 

“Is…” I start to ask about my daughter but a cry falls from my lips. 

My mom grabs my hand tighter and brushes my hair out of my face. “She’s in the NICU, but the nurses say she’s doing well” 

“Can I see her?” my voice is hoarse. My mom jumps up from the bed and fills an empty paper cup with water. She passes the cup to me, and I gratefully drink its contents. 

“I’ll go get a nurse, okay? She’ll tell you everything you need to know”

I had been asleep for roughly ten hours after my daughters birth. The doctor told me that the pain I woke up to last night was from blood clots, which is the reason behind all the blood and the premature birth. Luckily though, I was pretty close to full term, and I got to the hospital at the perfect time therefore babygirl would only have to stay at the NICU for a few short weeks to monitor her development. 

“what’s her name, sweetheart?” my mom whispered softly to me while her hand ghosted across hairline.

“Leighton Rowe LN,” I replied sleepily as I stared at my baby in my arms. Leightons sweet face suddenly made all the pain worth it.

my mom brushed my damp hair out of my face. “that’s beautiful,” she cooed, and when she gestured towards the baby I tiredly nodded.

as my mom took my baby out of my arms to coddle, i let my eyes close and then i softly drifted off to sleep.

⋆ ★

It was a few months later when it happened. claudia was at my apartment, watching leighton while i ran around the city to get some much needed errands done. i stop at my favourite coffee shop, a place that i hadn’t been to since jack and i broke up. 

i order my usual, a mocha to go, and when i turn to leave jack had just opened the door. I stumble back, not prepared to see jack in the flesh. He looks familiar and yet completely different. 

“y/n,” he greets me, his tone uncertain as he takes a step towards me. How dare he.

“If your girlfriend sends me one more fucking text i swear i’ll ruin her life” i start, my words threatening as i let the weight of viviennes words fall onto my shoulders. for months shes been creating new accounts and messaging me, and despite hitting the "block all and future accounts" feature she still managed to harass me.

“I get that you don’t want to have a baby, but she’s here, and I'm capable of doing it without you. I have been doing it without you. So get your girlfriend to stop harassing me or i’ll press charges,” i spit out, pushing past a shell-shocked jack and storming out onto the street. 

⋆ ★

“I have a baby!” jack shouts angrily, kicking one of vivienne's wooden dinning room chairs. “You hid my baby from me!” 

Vivienne stares, glassy eyed as she watches her boyfriend stomp around her apartment. “Jack, i didn’t mean for it to go this far i-”

“You what? What was the plan here?” he shouts again, running a hand frustratingly through his hair. Jack stops, whipping around to face vivienne again. “Show me the messages.”

“What?” she cries. 

“y/n said you were sending her messages. Show me them” jack repeats, causing vivienne to jump up in alarm. If he saw even half of the things she sent…

Jack storms up to vivienne who immediately pulls her phone out of her pocket. She switches onto one of her many burner accounts used to send y/n messages. 

Jack sat on the couch, hunched over while he read through every single message. He felt sick. 

he hates you

It must suck knowing that your child's dad doesn't want her

Jacks going to be the best daddy to our future baby… its too bad he didn’t want that for you. 

“Jack we can fix this, i swear i’ll do better and-”

Jack stood up abruptly, letting viviennes phone tumble to the ground with a loud thud. “We’re- we’re past done. I don't even know what to say to you,” jack stutters, tears falling steadily down his cheeks. 

“Baby, i’m so sorry” vivienne cries. she tries to reach out to jack, be he swats her hands away. 

Jack backs away, and without another word he leaves viviennes apartment with the slam of a door.  he had to make this right to y/n and his... baby.

-

part three

#journalist au! #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fic

[beefrobeefcal]

the BEEF | #1: Joel Miller

Summary: no-outbreak AU, Joel has a headache and that headache wants his attention. [based on a prompt THOT up in collaboration with @strang3lov3]

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,833

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, angry fools who want to play hide the sausage, angry joel, shovel violence against a truck, monster cock, age gap (joel is in his 50's, reader is younger), p in the v (unwrapped), rough dresser sex,

Author's Notes: welcome to the BEEF. Each P-boy has a thorn in their side that has to be dealt with. Thank you to @covetyou for inspiring the idea, and thank you @neverwheremoonchild, @strang3lov3, @rebel-held & @bitchesuntitled for their brains and eyes.

and thank you to every friendo in the Bistro - it's all for you, babies.

Joel Miller was your street’s cranky asshole. No one dared throw a party or hold a garage sale without letting him know first. No one dared let their grass get over a certain length and the whole neighbourhood breathed a sigh of relief when he would go out of a town and not see the kids scribble with chalk on the sidewalks in the summer. He never called the cops; no, instead he showed up and berated whoever was hosting an event or engaging in an activity he found offensive. And he was intimidating. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was built like a brick shithouse. You’d lived on the block for almost nine years, and in that time, Joel had gone from being a broad, sturdy single father to a single, empty nester who lived off HungryMan frozen meals. He was a big man with linebacker shoulders and a meaty chest stacked on top of a boulderous belly. His plaid button up shirts always looked like they were holding on for dear life to avoid his temper.

And you were utterly in love with him.

Before the most recent snowfall, you’d been in your room on your bed with the window open a crack to let in some fresh air. Right below your window was Joel’s front porch, and as soon as you heard his door fly open, you grabbed your vibrator and listened.

“Get off my lawn!”, you heard him bellow at who ever had dared to approach his house.

You smiled to yourself and turned on your purple silicon friend and shoved it in your underwear.

As Joel berated the hapless victim of his temper, you nudged yourself closer to the edge. As you did, you cared less about the volume of your cries and let your noises out at top volume. By the time you came, Joel was standing on his porch with his mouth agape, staring at your bedroom window and the offending party walked away with a look of disgust.

*****

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

You watched as your snow shovel slipped out of your hands and hit your Joel’s truck. The one with the vanity plate ‘SM 9000’ that you had no clue what it meant. You could only sit back and watch as it fell and gouged in the paint job on Joel’s 1989 Dodge Ram pickup, your panties grew damp as you heard his front door open and slam against his house.

You turned around, raising your hands, trying to look like you were de-escalating the situation. “Joel, I-“

“The fuck’re you think you’re doin’?!”, he bellowed, stomping towards you.

As he yelled and flew into a tantrum over your shovel’s sins, you couldn’t help the stupid, lovesick half grin blooming on your face.

“… and you ain’t got no respect for no one’s property and…”, he stopped, took a breath, and looked you over, face twisting in a confused rage as he tried to figure out why you were looking at him as if he were a can of tuna and you were a cat watching him being pulled open ever so gently.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!”, he yelled, stepping forward, trying to scare you to no avail. He huffed and stomped his foot, trying to snap you out of whatever trance you were in.

You sighed and tilted your head, loving the attention he was finally bestowing on you, not caring that your reaction was essentially dumping gasoline on a house fire.

“Fuckin’ disrespectful shit…”, he snarled as he grabbed your arm and dragged you towards his house.

“Joel? What’re you doing? Where we going?”, you asked with a big dumb grin on your face then wincing at the harsh grip he had on your elbow. Your boots slipped and skidded on the icy walkway and you tripped heading up the stairs.

“Fuckin’ clumsy dumbass…”, he grumbled, shoving you through his front door and slamming it behind you both.

You looked around his entry way, noting the ugly wallpaper and the stale cigarette smell lingering. You crinkled your nose, and he turned around, his frown deepening into a scowl.

“Boots off!”, he barked, harshly motioning to your feet.

You didn’t miss a beat and toed them off quickly, kicking them into the wall. His jaw clenched as he watched the dirty snow clumps slide slowly down, leaving wet patches on his yellow-turned-brown floral wallpaper.

His eyes snapped up to yours, expecting an apologetic look. Instead, he was met with…

“Why the fuck you lookin’ at me like a love sick puppy?”

Joel was enraged. You didn’t run away or beg for forgiveness. No. You stood in his entry way, kicking your boots and making a mess, looking like he was David Cassidy or Patrick Swayze. You smiled back softly and that was the last straw for him.

“WHAT IN THE FRESH HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

You could have cum right there. Joel Miller was yelling right in your face. You’d gotten off by listening to him lose his shit at anyone trying to fundraiser or collect donations who had dared knock on his door but having a front row seat to a live performance was better than you could have ever imagined.

Joel watched your lips part and your brows twitch as they furrowed and your head tilt back slightly. He heard your breath hitch between his furious growling breaths, and his eyes slid down your parka-clad frame and he swore he saw your thighs clench.

His eyes went wide as he realized the effect he was having on you.

“You fuckin’ dirty little shit…”

The whimper he received in response made his cock twitch in his WalMart Levi’s. He sucked in a harsh breath and swallowed hard. He hadn’t had a woman look at him like that since he went to the strip club with his brother for his bachelor party, and he knew she was looking for a hefty tip. But you – the only thing he could think of is that you were trying to find a way to get out of paying for the damage your shovel caused. There was no waythat you were actually interested in him in that way. No. No woman had wanted to fuck him since before his daughter, Sarah, had been in junior high. He was a fat old asshole and you… you weren’t.

“Joel…”

Your soft voice pulled him back and the frown he carried all but left his face, being replaced with eyebrows to his hairline and his mouth open in confusion and shock.

“Joel, I… I’m sorry about your truck.”

You grabbed the zipper to your parka and pulled down, opening it to reveal your great aunt’s knitted sweater with a loon on it. Joel’s widened eyes swept over you and his brows furrowed.

“The hell you up to?”, he croaked, trying to sound intimidating.

“It’s warm in here”, you respond, tossing your parka on to, but missing completely, the stair banister.

His mind was racing. You actually seemed to be coming on to him as you stepped closer in your mismatched socks. You looked up at him through your lashes while your hands slowly slid up your legging-clad thighs and up to the hem of your sweater. He watched as you pulled it over your head slowly, getting it stuck for a moment, revealing a worn out white t-shirt with a faded image of a marshmallow peep and the slogan ‘Holla At My Peeps!’. He took another step back and you tossed your sweater at him, and he stumbled back, falling onto his recliner.

“Jesus, woman!”, he hollered, ripping your sweater off his head just in time to see you standing above him.

“You know how hot you are?”, you asked, leaning forward over him.

He froze. He must be dead. Or asleep. Or maybe he slipped when he stormed out the door to yell at you and hit his head. Or maybe he was drunk. Maybe he took a NyQuil tablet instead of the Omega 3-6-9 fish oil pills.

“The hell is wrong with you?”, he sputtered out, looking at you wide-eyed.

You didn’t answer. You only leaned forward, nudging your nose against his and letting out a breathy giggle. He tried to speak again, but his words got lost in the high pitch grunt he let out when your knee came up and nestled in between his thighs, pushing against the considerable bulge that had developed.

His hand involuntarily gripped your wrist that was supported on his arm rest, and he sucked in a deep breath.

“I know exactly what you need, Joel Miller.”, you cooed, tongue jutting out and licking your teeth, trying to sound seductive. “You need a good fuck.”

His mouth hung open in shock. You grinned wildly and kissed the tip of his nose before nipping at his bottom lip and tugging it between your teeth.

Joel let out a groan and closed his eyes, the hand on your wrist moving to your t-shirt’s hem and slipped underneath it. You nudged your knee against his crotch again and kissed him, tasting no-name waffles and burnt coffee.

The kiss seemed to break something in Joel. This wasn’t a dream, or an antihistamine induced hallucination or a concussion - this was real. You, his hot, young, stupid neighbour was crawling onto his lap and shoving your tongue down his throat.

He grunted lowly and pushed you back, looking up at you with dark eyes. You tried moving forward again, but his hand held you back.

A whine emanated from your throat, and he shook his head. “I’m not fucking you-“

You scoffed and he shushed you.

“Oh, hush and lemme finish, you loony shit!”, he huffed. “I was sayin’ that I'm not gonna fuck you in this chair; it barely holds my weight and if you’re gonna be bouncin’ on me, this fuckin’ thing’ll screw the pooch.”

You shrugged your shoulders, irritated. “Okay, fine. Then where?”

“My bed, you nimrod!”, he snapped with a scowl, then grinned. “Got a nice mattress with good lumbar support.”

*****

You had followed Joel to his room and were pleasantly… let down. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the beige walls and the picture of a horse above his non-exciting bed were not what you had thought he would have. What surprised you was the essential oil diffuser plugged in on his bedside table, giving the air a fresh lavender smell.

The fact that the rest of his house looked like a rejected concept for an early nineties sitcom and his bedroom looked like a bed and breakfast that had no theme, for some reason, made you want him more. This man and his lack of consistency. You needed him in you now.

Grabbing his arm and turning him around, you pulled him into a desperate kiss; teeth and tongues, fighting for real estate in each other’s mouths.

“Get naked, sugar.”, he grunted as he broke the kiss with a lopsided grin. He unsnapped his shirt, revealing a grey, stained undershirt, its ribbing pulled tight and stretched over his belly while his mouth and surrounding patchy facial hair glistened with your saliva.

While he wasn’t being that polite, he wasn’t being mean. That was a problem. Even with how mundane he’d revealed himself to be, it wasn’t enough. The residual dampness that made your panties stick to your core was a result of him yelling at you out front, and that goodwill your pussy had shown was slowly drying up.

Joel’s hands began to make quick work of his belt and stretch denim jeans, but he noticed you not moving to do the same.

His hand flapped at you in an urging motion, “Make with the no clothes. Can’t fuck you with them on.”

His eyes narrowed as he noted your lack of movement, and he paused. You began to see signs that Joel was getting mad, and your mind flipped through every situation you’d witnessed him lose his shit in.  What was it that would set him off quick? You weren’t about to throw a block party in his room, nor were you a religious group knocking at his door early on a Saturday. Then it clicked.

A devious grin broke out slowly on your face as you sat on his Temperpedic mattress and crossed your arms.

“Make me.”

“You indignant little shit…”, he growled, clenching his fist.

A flutter in your lower belly. More.

“Come on. Make me.”

“You fuckin’ tease… Fuck you!” His eyes were filling with fire.

An almost painful need bloomed in your core. More!

“Fuck me yourself, coward.”

He sputtered and guffawed, eyes wide in rage.

“You fuckin’ shit! Bangin’ up my truck and actin’ like a needy Jezabel just to fuckin’ tease me like this!”

You could have cum right there, between the iron grip on your wrist and his loud belittling.

You couldn’t stop the giggle that erupted, and he snarled. He grabbed your hand and yanked you up off the bed. You truly thought his back was bad enough that the effort of getting you up alone would be too much, but he shoved you against his dresser, then slamming his weight into your back. You whined, feeling your pussy clenching on nothing.

“You’re such a shit!”, he grunted, grabbing your elasticized waistband, and yanking your leggings and panties down on one side while your hand went to the other; the two of you awkwardly working towards removing your barrier.

When they were low enough on your legs to step out of, you clumsily did so, then tried to turn around to help Joel. He wasn’t fast enough, swearing under his breath as your hands lifted his belly to access his strained button fly. His mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting like a dog on a window while a steak was being grilled just on the other side.

You pushed his jeans down around his hips and they pooled around his ankles. He kicked them off and bit down on the crux of your neck and shoulder as your hand cupped and felt up his hard cock.

Jesus. Oh fuck.

Joel was hung. Like unreasonably so. You’d had your fair share of men slamming their pork steeples into your wet cunt, but none of them could even hold a candle to the monstrosity that sat heavy and covered in satin in your hand. You planted your hand on his chest and pushed him back, needing to get a peek at what Joel was packing. You immediately looked down, seeing the Wile E. Coyote faux-satin boxers protruding out in an impressive, and frankly intimidating, bulge.

“Oh shit...”, you breathed out, contemplating on whether you truly needed to do any serious sitting for the next week, or if you could maybe just get away with laying down at work.

His hand snapped to your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eye, and he gave you a dark smile, “Showed up to a gun fight with a knife, sugar?”

You didn’t have time to respond because Joel shoved his hand between your legs and harshly began rubbing your clit.

Your eyes fluttered and rolled back. Joel watched, an approving sneer on his face.

“’S fucked up … you like this?”

“uh…. Uh-huh…”

“You’re a lunatic…”

You smiled lazily. “You’re fingering a lunatic… w-what’s that say about you?”

He paused then huffed out, “That I’m fingering a lunatic, you moron.”

You let out a throaty laugh that bleeds into a moan as Joel shoves two thick fingers into your hole, slowly dragging them out before plunging them back in.

“You’re a sick little shit… you seducin’ and teasin’ an old man, an’gettin’ me all wound up… Neighbourhood headache… that’s you. Fuckin’ shit up and walkin’ away with a smile on her dumb face.”

“’M close… don’t…. don’t stop…”

His fingers kept the slow languid pace going as he leaned in and harshly whispered, “Unlike you, sugar, I don’t like to leave people disappointed.”

His eyes never left you, watching your every move. Every involuntary twitch and shudder, every flutter of your eyelids and breath leave your parted lips. He could feel it around his fingers and see it on your face that you were feeling everything intensely and now that he had you like this, he wasn’t going to let you go without making sure you weren’t going to pull this shit again.

Joel was many things, but a man who could let things go was not one of them. He was tired of hearing you cream and cry on whatever silicon thing you were shoving into yourself through your bedroom window as he lost his shit on someone; tired of seeing you make eyes at him while you sat in your front yard as he grumbled at a neighbour for the state of their lawn. He was still furious at you for once letting your hand - your soft, sweet, tender hand - linger on his when handing him his mail that was accidentally delivered to your home, forcing him to sit in his shitty recliner and try to finish with his calloused, rough, and hard hand. He never came.

You were going to pay for that. He’d promised himself that for almost five years and now here you were, on your way to being a muppet with how his hand played in your pussy. Joel’s time had come.

You came, moaning, on his hand as he watched, his fingers still moving in and out of you, and his thumb took up the task of tending to your twitching clit. Your face twisted and you cried out, trying to push his hand away.

Your tongue felt thick in your mouth and a moan seeped out. As you rode the wave, he yanked his hand out and grabbed your arm, throwing you onto the bed.

“Goddammit, you’re such a pretty shit.”, he grumbled, reaching for your ankle, and tugging your ass to the edge of the bed. You tried sitting up on your elbows, but he shoved you back down with his body weight.

His weight. Good god, he felt heavier and better than you ever thought he could as he pressed you down into the mattress.

But he got up off you, trying to wrangle your ankles and pull your exposed pussy to just the right spot to save his back from being strained. You tried sitting up again, wanting to have some sort of control over the situation, but Joel growled and grabbed your hips, and, in an impressive feat, flipped you onto your front all while grumbling about what a pain in the ass you were.

“Can’t even fuckin’ be considerate enough to stay put…”

You heard him spit then grunt, figuring he was priming that fucking meat wagon between his legs, and you let out an impatient huff.

“Knock that shit off!”, he snapped, flicking you on your ass cheek. “You just came, nimrod. You can fuckin’ wait!”

“Yeah… but I wanna cum again!”, you whined out with a smile, trying to not laugh at how irritated he was with you.

“I bet you do… but you’re on my time, and I am a patient man, sugar.”, he crooned lowly, snaking his hand up your back and to your hip. You squirmed a bit, but his hold kept you planted in place, and his other hand held his cock as he nudged it against your opening.

The smile on your face dropped as his huge member pushed in; your mouth opened, and out came a gasp followed by a choked moan.

“That’s it… Jesus Murphy…  not even fuckin’ your throat and I got you to shut your mouth…”

Yes, you knew Joel was huge. But it was just an abstract concept up until that moment. Now that he was shoving his massive dick into you, you felt like the universe’s mysteries were now clearly laid out. You knew what religion was right, who shot JFK, how they made the moon landing look real…

Nothing in life would ever surprise you again because you were being split open by this grumpy, fat man. You were being ruined by Joel Miller.

He grunted as he pulled back and then slammed into you.

“Tight little snatch, sugar… takin’ me like a champ.”

You couldn’t respond. Your brain had melted and left your skull empty, and you were unable to do anything but breathe loudly and moan, “S’too big… too big…”

Joel snickered and grunted, snapping his hips and shoving himself deep. You wriggled and squirmed, simultaneously needing him stop and to fuck you harder. Your head began to feel faint, and your core squeezed him, forcing a groan out of him.

He began to snap his hips faster, panting and grunting like the fat kid in gym class being forced to run a mile. You whined and squirmed, trying to get your knees under your body to be able to push back against him, to get him deeper, but he grabbed your calf and bit your leg right above your sock with a growl then groaned, “Stay… stay put… don’t move… jus’lemme… lemme finish…”

You let out a yelp than melted into a moan, throwing yourself into another orgasm. Joel’s thrusts became hurried and more erratic. The high-pitched whine that ripped out of Joel sounded like a dog begging for table scraps as he shot his load into you.

He collapsed onto your back, both of you panting. After what felt like hours but in reality, was only about 30 seconds, Joel had gone quiet. You nudged him, hoping to god he didn’t die from a pussy-induced heart attack. He grunted and struggled to push himself up off you, then flopped on the bed next to you. You rolled over onto your back and looked at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his brows furrowed; his wispy salt and pepper hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes were closed. He was still breathing heavily through his mouth. You smiled, feeling a fulfillment you hadn’t since you’d convinced your parents that it was your sister who broke the CD-ROM drive in the family computer even though it was really you. Cuddling into his, your fingers drew heart shapes in his sweat coated chest hair.

Now that he’d fucked you, you wanted to clear the air as it were, and make sure he wasn’t going to make you pay for any damage to his truck. “So…”

Joel grunted in response, one eye opening and looking at you.

“I was just wondering… what’s your licence plate mean?”

He sighed and closed his eye again. He said the meaning quietly and at first you weren’t sure you heard him right.

“What?”

His cheeks flushed a little harder and he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a huff.

“ShagMaster 9000.”

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @nerdieforpedro  @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @jennaispunk @tightjeansjavi @rubyfruitjungle @lilmizmoz @strang3lov3 @pedroshotwifey @harryleatherfit @bitchesuntitled

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #chubby!joel miller #chubby!joel #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #chubby joe #chubby pedro rights !!! #chubby pedro pascal #fat belly #pedro pascal tummy nation #beefro's bistro #beefro is sweating #you asked beefro answered #🥩 #the BEEF

[eoieopda]

tidal.

but vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “i don’t need a sales pitch. you will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.” 

pairing: vernon x afab!reader type: one-shot (fluff n’ smut) au: est. relationship wc: 4.8k rating: 18+ a/n: i didn’t plan this whatsoever, but i felt so weirdly compelled to write it that i avoided eye-contact with all of my wips, and now… here we are, lol. cw: pov switch, reader is afab + on their period, gender identity + pronouns aren’t designated, blood mention (obvi), unprotected p in v penetration (ill-advised!!), wee bit of dry-humping (ig?), a lil massage, pet names (baby, sweetheart), self-indulgent ref to a favorite docu of mine, and lastly — vernon (yes, this is a warning 🧍🏻) 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Vernon isn’t blind. 

He can see you out of the corner of his eye, laying flat on your back, several unexplained centimeters away from his side. With the duvet clenched in your fists, you stare intently up at the ceiling, like you’re waiting for it to move — or trying to move it yourself, telekinetically. You keep your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, as if you expect it to make a run for it.

So, yes, Vernon can see you. 

He just can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.

For a few minutes, he attempts to pay attention to the documentary lighting up the screen on the wall ahead. You were the one that picked it — some wild tale about mother-daughter recluses in New York — and he finds it hard to give a shit about it without your usual commentary. Your hot takes are his favorite part of any movie night, after all.

He’ll be the first to admit that he’s never been good at keeping his eyes off you. Try as he might, he can’t glue his gaze to the television; each glance in your direction sticks longer than the one before it, testing the waters. Minutes slip away just like this until he completely caves, turns his head fully, and stares at you outright. 

You still don’t seem to notice.

His brow scrunches up as he watches you, caught in the middle between concerned, confused, and amused by how absolutely ridiculous you look right now. When he speaks, he tries to sound stern, like he isn’t fighting the urge to laugh.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” is all he gets in response. 

You don’t even look his way. If anything, you tense harder now that his attention is on you. 

None of it makes sense. Not the weird gap you’ve left between your body and his, your total refusal to look him in the eye, or the fact that there wasn’t an argument to precipitate any of this distance. It’s a symptom with no apparent cause, and it’s totally baffling. Brain-breaking, even.

Frowning, Vernon scoots himself across the bed to get closer to you. 

You don’t reciprocate. 

He tugs gently at the hem of your sweatshirt in a silent plea for your attention and receives radio silence in response; unless he counts the way you swallow thickly.

Which, for the record, he does not.

This close, Vernon can feel the anxious energy pulsing out of your tensed-up body in waves, so he leans away and props himself up on his elbow. Desperate to know what broke you and how to fix it, he mutters, “What is happening right now?”

Ope. 

It comes out harsher than it was supposed to, reading more like annoyance than worry, so he immediately clears his throat. Gently and with a brush of his knuckles against your hip bone, he tries again: “Are you okay? Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

A fly on the wall might get the wrong impression and think he stroked you with a live wire instead.

“Oh, my god. No!” You sputter with a jolt, shifting gears quickly from vaguely on-edge to horrified. You shake your head so frantically that Vernon fears you’ll detach it. “No, you haven’t done anything. I’m fine, I just —”

He interjects with a laugh, “— I don’t necessarily believe that —”

Visibly cringing with every muscle in your body, you cover your face with your hands. Not long after you take a deep breath does a meek voice slip out through your fingers, sounding beyond embarrassed.

“I’m so incomprehensibly horny right now that I can’t even look at you.”

For a second, it’s dead silent because he can’t quite process how much of a weirdo you are, or how completely and hopelessly enamored he is with you. But then the dam breaks. His laugh comes out so forcefully that you pull your hands away from your face, eyes wide.

“Is that so?” He smirks, nodding his head towards the television. “Grey Gardens really gets your motor running, huh?”

Absolutely aghast, you swat at his bicep. Then, you sling your arm over your eyes and groan, “I got my period. It has turned me into a sex-crazed monster, I fear.”

Vernon nods in understanding, even though you can’t see it, and hums, “Ahh.”

And he leaves it at that, only because you seem to have more that you want to say. Something you want to ask, maybe, or a reason you may want to give for not jumping his bones at the first opportunity. He’s down, he thinks without hesitation, so long as you are.

But you don’t say anything.

Maybe you aren’t actually down after all, and that’s why you won’t look at him. Shit, are you embarrassed? Should I say something? Silence falls overtop like a weighted blanket, smothering the two idiots who can’t tell whose turn it is to talk. 

Do you or do you not want this right now?

You mumble something that he can’t catch, so he nudges your side gently with his knuckles to encourage you. Just as nervous, you repeat yourself without looking at him, “Period sex is supposed to help with cramps, I think.”

He thinks he’s read the exact same article you have. More than that, he wishes you’d look over at him and see for yourself how completely unbothered he is by this concept.

“If you think about it, it’s kind of like a natural lubricant,” you add in a voice that’s even smaller than before.

Your shyness really might kill him, so he reaches over to grab your hand and gently pull your arm away from your eyes. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since you laid down — since you put your self-imposed no-contact order in place — and he feels his stupid heart swell.

For what it’s worth, he feels his dick twitch, too.

You open your mouth to speak again, likely to continue your unnecessary campaigning; Vernon is having none of it. He tugs your wrist just enough to tilt you inward, then he kisses you hard enough to shut you up. A tiny whimper slips out of your lips when he pulls away, and it almost makes him regret his decision to do so. 

But Vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “I don’t need a sales pitch. You will never — ever —  have to convince me to fuck you.” 

Your eyes crinkle at the corners, like this is somehow news to you. It shouldn’t be. He’s told you a thousand times in as many different ways how thoroughly crazy you drive him just by existing so closely to him, but maybe you didn’t take him seriously then.

To emphasize his point, he slips his hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and finds your bare waist with the pad of his thumb. It spirals slowly against your warm skin, making both of you dizzy. Then, sick of the distance, Vernon dips his head down to press a kiss to your temple. 

“Like, ever,” he murmurs, lips following the curve of your jaw. 

Soft, slow kisses trail behind him as he travels down to your lips. Your head tilts further backwards with every single one, providing him with more and more access. 

He states it matter-of-factly because, to him, it is. “I’m down so bad for you that it might be terminal.”

“Oh?” 

You try to laugh but turn to putty when his palm rests fully on the curve of your waist and pulls you flush against him. The surprised gasp you let loose confirms his suspicion: You can feel how serious he is, affirmation throbbing against your abdomen in time with his heartbeat. 

Vernon smirks to himself, relishing your reaction, and bypasses your mouth entirely. A moan escapes from you, soft like an exhale, as his lips move slowly down the length of your neck. Every so often — just to feel you shiver — he flicks the tip of his tongue along the delicate skin he finds there.

“It might be messy…” 

The rest of your needless warning gets lost in a dreamy sigh as he suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Shifting even closer, your desperate fingers reach out and cling to his t-shirt.

Vernon licks a stripe over the galaxy blooming on your skin. He hums, hand traveling upwards from your waist, “Don’t care about a mess.”

And he means it. 

Mindful of any soreness, he smooths his hand over your left breast and massages it tenderly, swearing to himself that he’ll throw the whole fucking mattress out if that’s what it comes down to. For you, he’ll race across town on foot to buy another one, and — fuck it — if the store is closed, he might just break in.

You’re growing impatient; your fingers let go of his shirt and tangle themselves in his hair.

“So needy,” he chuckles low in his chest, teasing. “You know, I think you’re lying. I think it is this bat-shit insane documentary that’s driving you wild, and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“Stop,” you whine, dragging out the vowel sound. 

You don’t, though; you throw your left leg over his right thigh and shimmy forward until your cunt grazes his dick. Involuntarily, he groans at the warmth radiating off your core. Every part of you drives him just the slightest bit insane. You seem to know it, he thinks as he watches your pupils dilate in real time.

But he can play games, too, so he rolls his hips forward and grinds against you. He pushes you further, “Don’t get me wrong, baby. I’m not kink-shaming you —”

“Hansol Vernon Chwe!”

Oh, shit. Government name?

“— I’m just a little surprised, I guess.” He sighs with a shrug. “Think you know somebody…”

Your impatience is scribbled all across your scrunched up face. It seeps into your voice when you crash back against the pillows and huff, “Can you please stop fucking with me and start fucking me?”

“Sex-crazed monster, huh?” Leaning over, Vernon punctuates his question with a quick press of his lips to yours.

You whimper, “I’m so serious. I might explode.”

“Then go take care of whatever you need to take care of.” He kisses you again, smiling so fondly that his eyes may even be twinkling. “And I’ll go get a towel.”

You wait until Vernon clears the threshold before launching yourself out of bed at breakneck speed. Stumbling all the while, you race off to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door forcefully behind you. When it clatters against the frame, you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit eager.

Maybe.

Opting to keep your baggy, bleach-stained sweatshirt on, you wiggle out of your shorts and — what he refers to as — your crisis diaper. The high-waisted, frumpy, beige panties are utilized exclusively during your period, and to your surprise, they’ve remained spotless. It’s only ever the pretty and expensive pairs that wind up as collateral damage, isn’t it?

As they pool around your ankles, you can’t help but think that Vernon’s nickname for them is pretty spot on. That’s partly why you figured he might need to be talked into this. Unsated arousal aside, you feel as far from sexy as you can possibly get.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, kick what you’ve discarded into a pile near the hamper, and let your sweatshirt shift down to cover as much of your ass as it’s capable of managing. You grab a square of toilet paper; then, you go to work excavating the wad of cotton that separates you from everything you want in this life. 

It is within the realm of possibility that you’re a little bit eager and a little bit dramatic. 

Perhaps.

After discarding the evidence in the small trash can under the sink, you wash your hands as if you’re about to step into an operating theater and not the bedroom you spend half your life in. When you finally feel sterile, you lift your head and catch your reflection in the mirror. Instantly, you make eye contact with the painful, hormonal pimple on your chin — the one you’ve been waging a retinoid war against for days.

“Bitch,” you mutter, like calling it names will be the one thing that finally gets it to shrink. Of course, your plan doesn’t work, but you feel a little less powerless. That’s good enough, you think. At least, as good as it’s going to get.

Now half-naked and certifiably unobstructed, you tiptoe back to your bedroom much more carefully than you left it. Vernon enters from the opposite doorway at the same time, jumping slightly the second he notices you. You ignore his frightened eyes and glance down at the crisp, white towel he’s clutching.

You open your mouth to suggest anything otherwise, but he beats you to it. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead as his mouth widens outwards, a self-aware rectangle. Otherwise expressionless, he lets go of an atonal, “Aaaaaaah”, that tells you he’s caught on.

He says nothing else before turning around and walking back the way he came. You have to bite down on your lips to keep from cackling.

That one’s mine, you think, still as infatuated as you were at the start. I chose that one.

While he’s gone, you try not to move, not to breathe too heavily. Vernon said he didn’t care about a mess, but when he said it, he was speaking theoretically with his hand on your tit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spoken recklessly with your body melting under his touch.

As far as you know, he hasn’t had any experience with this mess in practice. He could wind up finding you about as sexy as you currently feel — to wit: not at all. So, erring on the side of caution, you turn yourself into a statue and wait for the boy and his towel to find you again.

When he comes back, he plants a drive-by kiss on your unsuspecting mouth before skirting right around you. With shocking finesse, he grabs the corners of the — thankfully — black towel, which unfurls in the seconds before he flicks it upwards. It lands perfectly in the center of the bed, flat without needing to be fussed with.

“Wow,” he mutters to himself, taking in his clean work with raised eyebrows.

The impressed look is still on his face when he turns around, but you don’t have time to comment on his feat because he laughs as soon as he sees you.

“Kinda look like Donald Duck with the whole top-on, bottom-off situation.”

I chose this one?

You pout with an indignant gasp, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not wearing a sailor hat, so…. bad analogy. Rude, even.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You stumble a little on your way into him; the jury’s still out about whether it’s his hushed tone or the sudden movement that trips you up.

Between his thumb and index finger, he gently captures your chin. You follow along with his unspoken direction, tilt your face up to meet his. This close, you can see your own reflection in his pupils, black dilating against the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

Vernon takes a moment of silence as he takes in your features, and he studies them so intently that his eyebrows crinkle on their own. He sighs, sounding so completely serious. “You might get prettier every time I look at you.”

It’s unclear if you’re melting, or gushing; and if it’s the latter, you can’t say which biological process is at fault. Thankfully, the hand at the small of your back keeps your weak knees from buckling when his lips brush over yours.

“Even if you’re dressed like Winnie the Pooh.” 

You feel him smirk even before you hear him laugh at his own joke. Then, you feel his hand slide down to cup your bare cheek, squeezing affectionately. You want to tell him that this analogy is still inaccurate because you’re not wearing a crop-top; but he gently instructs you to ditch the sweatshirt and get on the bed, and your body moves automatically. No questions asked.

Carefully, you crawl up onto the mattress, then you center yourself on the towel. Still on your knees, you tilt your head curiously and ask, “Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere,” he breezes, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the dresser nearby. He amends, “Everywhere. All the time, and then some.”

“Better be careful,” you tease. “Talking like that might have consequences. You may never be able to get rid of me.”

His joggers are the next to go. Your sanity follows shortly thereafter, hungry eyes lingering on the imprint of his cock underneath his boxer briefs. You have to clamp your mouth shut to keep from drooling.

Brown eyes sparkling, he steps closer to you, kicking his pants aside as he goes. “Be careful,” he echoes, not a hint of cockiness to be found — just softness. “Saying it like a threat doesn’t make me wish it’s not a promise.”

I choose this one.

Crossing all the way to you, Vernon reaches the bed and climbs up with significantly more grace than you did. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels right in front of you, mirroring your posture and causing your stomach to flip with anticipation.

You can’t help yourself; you lick your lips and look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Naked, please. Like, right now.”

“Damn, I gotta do this myself?” Incredulous, he holds his hands up while glancing pointedly down at his underwear, then back at you. 

You arch an eyebrow, unfazed. 

“Depends.” You shrug. “Do you want to keep them? Because I really will rip them off of you.”

He concedes quickly; he always does. Sighing, he shakes his head and tuts, “Sex-crazed monster,” before pushing his briefs down his thighs. His length hangs heavy between you, but you swear you can feel its perfect ache inside you already.

You have a one-track mind, so you don’t hesitate to reach out and wrap your hand around him. A groan crawls up from the bottom of your chest when you feel the weighted warmth of his cock in your palm. You don’t hold that back, either.

“Fuck,” he sighs, head tilting as far backwards as it’ll go. Unexpectedly, he laughs. He doesn’t catch the quizzical look you shoot him, though he explains himself anyway, “Your hands are so fucking cold, but it feels so good.”

Swiping your thumb over his tip, you spread the pre-cum you find there down his shaft and stroke him slowly. He grows harder with every gentle squeeze, every pass of your fist. 

“We’re learning a lot of new shit about each other today.” You lean forward to pepper kisses across his collarbones. The hum of your mouth against his skin when you talk makes his cock twitch in your hand. “You might have a temperature kink and a thing for Winnie the Pooh.”

He snorts, nowhere near serious, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me,” you counter smugly, and you do mean it.

Vernon tilts his head forward to stare back at you. You’re already turning into a puddle, but if the look he gives you says anything, it’s that your melting isn’t enough for him. His voice is low and velvet-lined when he responds, “How about I just make you cum instead?”

“That could work, yeah.” You shrug.

He runs the pads of his fingers down each side of your waist to your hips, then back again; and each time he does it, you shiver. Reflexively, your back arches, chest pressing against his.

At this, he smirks, “It could? Maybe?”

“We can workshop it.”

“Or,” Vernon so generously offers, “You can turn around and lay down on your stomach. You know, if that’s sufficient.”

It’s not until you whip around and flop down onto the towel that you realize you never responded with words. Oh well. You figure he gets the point, judging by the quiet laughter you hear as he settles with his knees on either side of your upper thighs.

You don’t know what his next move will be — you don’t care, either, as long as he moves in your direction — so you don’t anticipate his palms flattening against your bare back, applying perfect pressure with his thumbs while he rubs away the soreness at the very base of your torso.

“Oh, shit,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the heels of his hands work out the tension in your muscles. “Have you always been good at this?”

You feel his chest brush against your shoulder blades when he hovers over you. Against the nape of your neck, he murmurs, “Nope.”

He kisses down your spine, mouth trailing after his hands as they work their way back down your body.

“Lemme guess — you read an article? Studied up?”

You get a snicker, then an affirmative hum, then another kiss. This time, it’s at the curve of your spine, just above your ass. Seconds later, he’s kneading the doughy flesh of your cheeks until your whole fucking body tingles.

That’s when it hits you:

Under normal circumstances, Vernon would be face-first in your pussy by now. Devouring you in earnest, like he’s starving. He can’t do that now — and you don’t blame him — so he’s making up for what you both view as a loss.

God, you want him.

One hand disappears from you, but you don’t have to guess where it went. You can hear the barely-there hiss of breath through his teeth when he takes his cock in that hand; as well as the very faint shift of his palm while he pumps himself.

“You’re gonna have to navigate, baby. I dunno how sensitive you are like this, what’s too much — any of that, so you need to tell me how you want me to move.”

Suddenly dizzy over how badly you need him, all you can muster is a nod. Vernon must want a verbal acknowledgment, though, because he leans back over you with one hand bearing his weight beside your head.

He kisses your shoulder and urges you, “Please say so if you need to stop or switch it up. Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“I will,” you breathe. “But I can’t even articulate how much I need you inside of me right now, so please — pretty please — fuck me.”

The tip of his nose bumps your temple affectionately. Right beside your ear, he teases, “With a cherry on top?” And it vibrates down your whole goddamn spine.

“Vernon!” You whine, burying your face in the comforter. It’s muffled, but you warn him nonetheless, “Don’t make me come back there.”

“Aish. Calm down, sex monster.”

The instinct to twist around and glare at him over your shoulder is strong, but every feral urge you feel is stronger. So, when he tells you to spread yourself open for him and tilt your hips back, you do so without even a hint of complaining.

With the crown of his cock slipping through your folds, inching towards your entrance, you hear him curse under his breath. Suddenly self-conscious, you finally crane your neck to the side and glance back at him. 

“We don’t have to,” you whisper. “If it’s gross and you don’t want to anymore, I get it —”

He balks at your suggestion without letting so much as a beat pass. “None of that, sweetheart; no spiraling. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics of, like… how to survive how good this already feels.”

Struck dumb, all you can muster is a peep, “Oh?”

“Shit, yeah.” His response comes in a low groan. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

It’s a good call on his part, a suggestion you’re glad to have taken, because the pressure of him entering you is intense enough to knock the wind out of you. Empty lungs likely would’ve led to your untimely demise.

You whimper, already overwhelmed with the combination of pain and pleasure; the best kind of ache. The little, breathy moans must freak him out, however, because his fingertips caress your waist as he checks in: “This okay?”

Your limp arm lifts off the mattress, which you’ve melted fully into, and you form a circle with your index finger and thumb to indicate that you’re okay. The light is bright fucking green; you’ve just maxed out your capacity for speech.

Vernon continues his slow thrust forward, giving you ample time to adjust to his size.

“Oh my god,” he grunts, “This is — shit, I can’t believe we haven’t done this before. If I knew how good you’d feel like this, I wouldn’t have waited around for you to ask me.”

That hits like a truck.

He was waiting on you. 

You spent months convincing yourself that he’d need to be convinced, and chickening out before you could raise the idea. Months, and months, and months, of craving him during your werewolf transformation; wasting away over a shitty assumption that Vernon is anything like the people you’ve been with before. 

Christ. 

His credit for putting up with you is long overdue.

Too tongue-tied to speak any of that out loud, you settle for a summary that you hope conveys the message: “I love you so fucking much.”

Mindful of how deep it will push him into your cunt, he leans down over you carefully. Weight balanced on his knees and forearms, he envelopes you in his body heat, trails kisses across your shoulder, and echoes your words back at you between each one.

“Is this too much?” He whispers, rolling his hips slowly.

You feel him everywhere, with every drag of his cock along your walls; and you can’t tell where that throbbing sensation is coming from, him or you. 

You shake your head and sigh, “‘s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Like he knows it’ll unravel you, his large hand comes to rest over the back of yours. His fingers slip through the spaces between and squeeze you much more gently than the vice grip you hold on the bedding below you. He keeps holding you — just like this — through every movement.

The sensation of being this surrounded, this loved, this whole crashes over you like a wave and knocks you off balance.

“I’m so close,” you pant, voice as ragged as your breathing. There’s nothing that he isn’t already giving you with every deep, deliberate thrust into your heat; but you beg nonetheless, “Please, please, please —”

His speed doesn’t increase, but the intensity does. The smack of his hips colliding with your ass does, too, and you feel it reverberating in your bones. Buried as far inside of you as he can be, cock tip kissing your cervix with every high tide, length rolling across your g-spot with every low.

You cum so hard — so completely, invoking every single muscle you have — that you forget how to breathe. With a choked-out gasp, you squeeze your eyes shut and let your orgasm devastate you. 

“Fuck!”

Vernon gets caught up in the current, too, grinding desperately against you until he’s swept up in your wake. You feel him twitch inside you as his release floods, leaving you so lost in his warmth that you feel boneless underneath him.

His face winds up hidden in the crook of your neck, somewhere amidst the baby hairs that cling to the sheen of your sweat. You feel his lips fluttering against your skin when he laughs, “Oh…my god.”

“Mmphf.” You nod weakly in agreement. Beyond blissed, your body still tingles too much to move.

Slurring, you add, “‘s good. ‘s really…”

The rest of that thought dissolves into something between a moan and a yawn.

Just as tired, Vernon pats your ass cheek affectionately and mumbles, “Well said. No notes.”

You tilt your head far enough to free your face from the sheets. When you do, you find your boyfriend fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. In the rare seconds he can, he looks back at you in a daze that seems even more adoring than it does fuck-drunk.

“I think I need to hibernate now,” you announce. “Think you just fucked me so well that I need to take a sabbatical.”

He counter-offers, “Shower first, then sabbatical?”

You wiggle so that you can pull your joint hands to your mouth. You can’t kiss him properly while he’s laid out on top of you, but you can press your lips to the back of his hand and hope he feels how much of you that you pour into it.

“Okay, but, like…. who’s carrying who?”

#svt #vernon #vernon chwe #hansol vernon chwe #vernon smut #svt smut #vernon fic #svt fic #vernon x reader #vernon fluff #vernon x you #vernon x y/n #vernon imagines #vernon scenarios #seventeen #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt scenarios #kvanity #jade writes #re: tidal.

[petsandpals]

Natural & Best CBD Pet Treats For Dogs

The Best CBD pet treats for dogs are created to be a beneficial addition to your dog's regular diet, and CBD products manufactured with subpar ingredients are just not worth buying, even if the packaging promotes CBD. Visit our website to learn more about Pets & Pals and to buy CBD pet treats for your animals.

#pets him #hemp dog treats #pets and pals #cbd treat for cat #cbd dog treats #cat lovers #cute #best cbd e liquid au #dog lovers #dog hemp treats #cats #pets lover #pets for sale #pets and mental health #cute animals #pets and animals #dogs #baby animals #kittens #puppy

[star-suh]

Love for Sale

Lee Sangyeon x Male Reader

cw: top sangyeon, college au, pwp, age gap (sangyeon is 30 and reader is 20+), sex toy, blowjob, fingering, window sex, frottage, spit as lube, sir kink(?), facial, implied multiple rounds, happy ending (but not that kind of happy ending 😏).

—

y/n was struggling to pay his college, his part-time job was no longer enough. one day while looking at the profiles on a dating app he saw one that caught his attention, the most handsome man he had ever seen, he tapped the profile displaying all his personal info "sangyeon huh?.. and he's looking for a sugar baby… interesting".

y/n send a “hello” which was answered almost immediately by sangyeon "hello handsome." y/n decided to be forward and wrote "i’m interested in the sugar baby thing. i really need the money.", “well then i suppose you know how this works” replied sangyeon…

sangyeon sent y/n the address of the hotel and the room number so they could meet there. “ok y/n you got this” he declared, slapping gently his right cheek. y/n hasn't had sex in over a year so he's a little nervous "damn" he shouted in a low tone "have i prepared myself well?" he asked himself as the elevator went up, "what if he fucks me but then doesn't pay me?" millions of scenarios came to his mind until the elevator doors finally opened bringing him out of his thoughts. walking slowly y/n looked door to door looking for the correct room number... "it's here... it's fine y/n do it for the money" he sighed.

y/n knocked on the door, a few seconds later it opened revealing the sexy man behind it "welcome" he greeted "sangyeon, nice to meet you" he extended his hand to shake y/n's "oh... hello haha ​​it-it's y/n". sangyeon laughed when he saw the boy, "wipe your drool," he joked, murmuring a "cute” very quietly that y/n didn't hear.

"well, let's do it" says y/n causing a smirk to appear on sangyeon's face "so eager, aren't we?" the older grabs y/n by his chin, guiding him towards his lips to give him a kiss. lips clashing together, their tongues exploring the inside of each other's mouths sharing the saliva between them. sangyeon's hand went down y/n's pants unbuckling the belt and then discarding it along with the underwear, he continued going down until he touched something metallic "umm what is this?" he broke the kiss to look. "uhh it's a plug... i thought that since you're a busy man you wouldn't have much time so... i prepared myself before coming here..", "how thoughtful" the older smiled, kissing and licking the younger's neck.

y/n sat face to face with sangyeon, bringing both cocks together with his hands and began to rub them, the friction causing a delicious heat. y/n could feel how sangyeon's cock was growing in his hands getting bigger and thicker "sir you have a fat monster cock" he moaned.

the top grabs the other by the shoulders moving towards him, putting his lips close to the other's ear and with a low and sexy voice he whispers "and you're going to have it all inside you soon”.

"that's it, spit on it, cover it all with your saliva" sangyeon demanded and the other male just obeyed starting to suck his cock, trying to leave it as wet as possible using his tongue to smear the saliva all over his shaft with a little going down to his balls and dripping from there. “i think this is enough sir” y/n talked with his mouth still stuffed.

y/n sat on sangyeon, feeling the pleasant contrast between the cold saliva and the hot dick he was about to ride. moving his hips up and down feeling every vein of that fat cock. sangyeon's satisfied face let y/n know that he was doing a good job "that's it, keep it up" the top groaned, his huge veiny hands groping y/n's ass cheeks then using them to guide him to speed up his movements. these movements were so erratic that at one point sangyeon's cock came out of the hole with a 'pop' sound. “you're doing a good job” praised the man fingering the used hole.

sangyeon tapped y/n's thigh twice to get him to stand up, he grabbed his hand walking towards the window. “no one will be able to see us from here" he murmured, biting the other's ear. y/n was being pressed by sangyeon's huge frame against the window, watching as his dick hit the window every time sangyeon gave a hard thrust, staining it with his pre-cum "shit you're leaking a lot... apparently you like the idea of ​​being seen huh?”. y/n shook his head saying no, “what was that? you're saying no but your body says otherwise”.

y/n was a mess of moans and embarrasment, he couldn't deny the enormous pleasure that sangyeon was making him feel, he was reaching places that no one else had reached before, opening him to new experiences and sensations. "you make me feel so good sir sangyeon, i want more" the younger begged. "believe me, from now on you're going to have a lot more of this" said the other, inserting his fingers into the abused hole along with his cock, overstimulating the boy so much that he came untouched, his cock splurting cum that landed on the window, " a masterpiece" the taller laughed, "now be a good boy and kneel in front of me" y/n obeyed and waited there with his mouth open and tongue out as sangyeon jerked off, his loud moans reaching y/n's dick directly making it hard again. “shit” he moaned spilling his seed on y/n, covering his face and part of his chest.

both share a kiss “it looks that your friend wants more” y/n tapped on sangyeon's still hard dick making it bounce, sangyeon's sexy smirk appeared again “round 2?”...

months have passed since the first meeting between the two of them, what started simply as a money-sex relationship ended with both of them catching feelings for each other. on one of the few dates where they had dinner, sangyeon decided to take the first step and confess his feelings for the other, however he was prepared to be rejected. “i think i love you too" those simple words filled the older's heart with so much joy that he just screamed with excitement, drawing the attention of the other customers "i'm sorry, keep enjoying your food" he apologized and the only thing y/n did was laughing at him feeling secondhand embarrassment. nowadays the couple is very happy, knowing that they have each other for the rest of their lives.

#lee sangyeon x male reader #sangyeon x male reader #lee sangyeon x male reader smut #sangyeon x male reader smut #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut #sangyeon smut

[missnancywritesfanfic]

Grocery Shopping ft. Anemo Boys

(Based On Stuff My BF and I Have Done)

Characters: Venti, Xiao, Heizou, Kazuha, Wanderer(Scaramouche), Aether

Contains: Modern AU, Everyday Life, Fluff, Swears

A/N: I was at the grocery store and the idea popped in my head 🥰

--

VENTI - Humming Along To The Music

From the moment you stepped inside to the moment you leave. He will be humming. Tapping his finger to whatever royalty free song is playing over the speakers. You used to asked him why he never listened to his own music when you were shopping.

"But if I did that, then I'd be ignoring you. Isn't it better to be together in the moment?"

"Yeah, in the moment of Funky Town for the thirtieth time? I'm flattered."

It gets worse with every trip. It slowly evolves into mumbling the lyrics, then singing the lyrics out loud, swaying along to the music, and sometimes full on dancing with no remorse. Not a single bone of shame in his body, and you have to watch your boyfriend shake his ass while you facepalm.

"I am never taking you shopping again."

"We both know that's a big fat lie, babe. You love having me around~"

God, you hated his smug grin. Let this shopping trip be done as soon as humanly possible.

XIAO - Carry All The Groceries/Steer The Cart

He will always man the cart. Don't you dare take it away from him, he has pouted at you before when you absentmindedly grabbed one and started shopping.

You seriously have no clue why he enjoys it so much, but you can't complain, it gave you time to actually focus on picking what you wanted. And you didn't have to worry about navigating traffic in the aisles. But he will nudge the cart into you when you're taking too long, you'll always turn back to meet his glare.

"Are you done yet? We need to get a move on."

"Hey, I am the chef of the house. If you don't like how I pick the ingredients, you can cook for a change."

That'll usually shut him up. He'll still silently nudge the cart into you though, after a while you get the idea and pick up the pace. When you finish shopping, he will always take the heavier bags. Even when you offer, he insists that it isn't an issue and leave you with the lighter bags. Sometimes nothing at all.

You appreciate his help, not like you wanted to carry them anyways. You still have to scold him about being delicate with the eggs.

KAZUHA - Cannot Decide On What To Take

"Baby, for the love of god, please pick a thing and stick with it!"

You've been in the aisle for over five minutes, he can't decide on what kind of rice to buy. This isn't a price issue. Kazuha's stuck thinking in the longterm: What kind of rice is best? Should we buy a bulk bag to last longer? Which type will work best with dinner tonight? (It's Jasmin. Always Jasmin. Cheap and reliable.)

You don't care! You just want to be in any other aisle but this one! But you're being hypocritical, you've done the exact same and everytime he'll give you a specific look. Nothing else, not a frown, not even a smug grin, just a look.

"Okay, but why does this package say sugar-free but it has the same level in the nutrients on the back?" You pause and glance over, you frown. "What?"

"I haven't said anything, dear."

"You don't need to. I know that look, it's Kazuha for I'm Judging You."

HEIZOU - Comparing Item Prices

He's the type of person to lay out all his options and pick the cheapest one with the best quality. There may be meat on sale today, but he knows it's only because they're going to expire soon. This can be useful at times, no need for bottom tier food in your household.

But that's not the worse of it. Like many middle aged home owners, he will deliberately check for mistagged items so that he can get them at a discount price. There's an air fryer he's been eyeing for months that's too expensive for a leisure purchase, until the day he spots that it's been mistagged for thirty dollars cheaper than normal.

"Heizou, honey, we can just wait until it's actually on sale..."

"Ah ah~, the price labelled is the price offered. I will be taking my prize!"

"You're insufferable."

You're at the checkout, silently apologizing to the cashier and manager that are trying to find a way out of this predicament. Unfortunately for them, he gets the airfryer. And unfortunately for you, he doesn't stop using it for a loooong time.

WANDERER - Buy Old People Snacks

He doesn't like sweets. He visibly cringes everytime you pass by the bakery section or candy aisle, and you have a horrible sweet tooth that can never be quelled.

However, he's gotten into the habit of picking up dried cranberries of all things. Now, usually you don't pass judgement on his choices, despite him making it clear he doesn't care if you. Regardless, you can't help poking fun at him every once in a while.

"Pfft, nice choice granpa."

"Shut up, you shovel junk down your throat like it's your day job."

"Yeah, but at least I act my age."

"You mean five?"

If you ever, and I mean ever, try to take some for yourself. He will smack your hand away and give you the nastiest glare. Don't bother with whining or fake tears, you should've thought about that before insulting his food choice. You won't be able to steal any of his food for a good month.

AETHER - Asking Permission To Buy Stuff

You have no clue where it comes from. Before you started dating him, he and Paimon were impulsive spenders. They used to empty literal shelves and have more food then they knew what to do with (Paimon usually ate most of it in record time). But now, when you're heading down the aisle, he'd sheepishly hold a box of cereal, maybe cookies, or even fruit snacks- and give you the biggest puppy dog eyes possible.

"Aether, you are a grown man. You can buy whatever you want."

"Really?"

"Yes! Buy ten of 'em if you really want to!"

Okay, maybe that's a bit overboard. But you needed to exxagerate to make your stance clear. Maybe he was trying to be considerate of you? But you always split the bill when it came to paying for groceries, a couple extra dollars wasn't going to kill you. Especially not with your shared salaries.

But if you're not careful, Paimon might end up eating you out of house and home. So maybe he had the right idea about clearing these choices with you first.

#reader insert #genshin impact #fluff #genshin scenarios #genshin x reader #venti x reader #xiao x reader #heizou x reader #kazuha x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #aether x reader #traveler x reader #modern au #swearing #domestic

[catscraftsandcommentary]

So I had some time to think tonight at work (in between operating heavy machinery, swearing at the materials, and trying to keep the line running, fun times!) And I asked myself, "self, hypothetically, what might @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU look like in another generation or two - once people really get used to witchers being The Good Guys (TM) and helping out?"

And I was like "well, they'd probably get invited to social events - ooh! Who'd like which events best?!? What would that look like?"

Geralt, as we all know, detests anything too formal or Warlord-focused. He enjoys weddings and receptions, but his TRUE favorite is baby christenings. Seriously. Put him in a room with a tiny baby and he's happy as a clam. He'll happily growl away (or weaponize his puppy-dog eyes against) grannies, aunties, and other family members to hold the baby for as long as possible. He's also 90% of the reason that witchers are now rumored to be able to bless babies.

When Mouse and Treyse bring this new rumor to the council, everyone has to just sit. And process for a minute. Because what the ever-loving fuck?!? (Jaskier immediately writes the sweetest lullaby ever, "A Witcher's Blessing", and it is the ONLY song that Geralt ever sings in public, and only ever to babies and small children. Multiple women blame this for their immediate conceptions.)

Jaskier adores weddings and festivals of all types, and if a happy couple includes details of how they met and/or fell in love with their wedding invitation, there's at least a 50% chance that he'll show up to the wedding with a personalized love song, holy shit.

Ciri loves tourneys. Loves watching them, loves displaying in them, loves sneaking into competing in them (omg, heir, NO), loves WINNING them. She's a menace. She has various stealth coats of arms that she rotates between when she's not supposed to be competing, but her favorite is the battle goose. Obviously.

Eskel doesn't like crowds or being the center of attention, which are almost inevitable with public invitations, but he does enjoy being the +1 for his family. Several of his and their interests overlap, and even where they don't, he likes to see them enjoying themselves.

Yennifer becomes well-known as an extremely efficient - albeit terrifying - treaty negotiator. She'll talk to both sides, get a list of their must haves, deal-breakers, would-likes, and don't-wants (as well as - perhaps more importantly - the reason why each of those are on that particular list). Then she draws up a draft and viciously negotiates a compromise. She is genuinely surprised the first time that both sides thank her for her help.

Vesemir, with all his long years of teaching, loves visiting schools and seeing any sort of student performance or sporting event. Kindergarten to university, drama to music to dance recitals to track and field meets to football games to student symposiums to science contests to... He buys out bake sales and funds club field trips and donates several fortunes worth of antique knick knacks to various schools. He's invited as a guest lecturer, a commencement speaker, a competition judge, a referee.

Lambert and Aiden, at some point, discover bachelor's parties, call dibs, and never look back. People learn very quickly not to invite witchers to their stag nights unless they want the entire party to get horrifyingly drunk - but at least Lam and Aiden will make sure that everyone makes it home (or to the wedding) safely. Perhaps not soberly, or sans hangover, but definitely without major injury. (And if the bride asks nicely and the groom and friends weren't total jerks, Lambert can usually be counted on to make a hangover cure. He really is a softie at heart.)

Dragonfly and Serrit get tapped for the odd bachelorette party or ladies' birthday parties. Anything that falls under "I want to be able to drink and party with my friends without worrying about some strange guy hurting one of us." They are extremely protective and have both been drunkenly proposed to several times. (Livi finds this terribly amusing. Gweld just wants to know if he can watch.) Milena and Zofia sometimes go with them.

Milena loves going to wedding showers and baby showers, but outside Kaer Morhen, she has to stay in sight of Lambert or one of his brothers. Lambert's rule. (She got KIDNAPPED, okay? He's allowed to worry!) Usually she'll take Geralt (there might be babies! He's excellent protection!) or Eskel (he's very quiet and has excellent manners, and his signs are impossible to fight) for the more, ah, female-heavy events. If anyone asks, they're her brother-in-law and genuinely like spending time around kids. And very, very married.

#the witcher #accidental warlord au #inexplicifics

[stories-and-chaos]

Helluva High

AU: Overlord Husk and Angel

[Little one shot inspired by @celestialalpacaron ‘s au of Husk and Angel. Valentino is a sore loser, but Husk has his spider’s back. Enjoy!

Word count 1065 Cw: cursing, emotional manipulation, trauma response (disclosure: I’ve never experienced trauma like this so I apologize if Angel’s reaction isn’t accurate.) ]

***********

Angel was frozen, stuck between fear and desire. His former boss, Valentino, was here. At Husk’s casino. Angel Dust had been working the tables for a couple months now. His looks, charisma, and reputation had him hustling patrons for all they were worth and more.

But despite that reputation (and all the salacious videos of him still being sold) he wasn’t for sale. Not for any amount of time or money. Husk was adamant on that. “You wanna sleep with someone off the clock, that’s your business,” he’d told Angel. “But do it because you want to, not because someone john is paying, got it?”

Now Val was here and Angel could barely help himself. The moth demon had grabbed his arm as he walked past. Now he was pulling the spider close, cooing sweet venomous words at the former porn star. “Angiiiiieee, I miss you baby. That mean old kitty won’t let me win you back. I need you Angel.” Val’s hand stroked up Angel’s thigh, sneaking under the slit in his gown. “I know you want me too, baby. No one can give you what you need, not like me.” One of his other hands grasped another of Angel’s arms. He hooked a finger of his fourth hand under Angel’s pearl choker, “Come on Angel, tell the kittycat to give me a shot at you. Then we can go home and I’ll make you feel so good you’ll forget all this ever happened.”

Angel’s breath caught. Everything about Valentino made him want to just melt away. His voice, his cigarette smoke, the hands stroking his limbs with a hint of claws. But Angel didn’t want to go back. His eyes darted back and forth in panic. He caught a flash of red wings, black fur, and gold eyes. “Do it because you want to…”

“Fuck!” he managed to gasp as he jerked back. The string of pearls snapped at the sudden movement. The iridescent orbs shimmered in the light as they clattered on the table and floor. “No…” he said, voice wavering.

Angel stood up as straight as he could. Valentino’s rage at being denied built quickly. He moved to grab Angel’s arm again but Angel stepped back. “I…I need a break boss,” he said as loud as he could.

“Take the night off babe. You’ve been working hard last few nights,” Husk said curtly as he stepped between Angel and Val. “Thought you knew better than that ‘Tino.” He faced the other Overlord as Angel dashed to the elevator. “Am I gonna have to throw you out?”

“Fuck, just let me play for him again. What do you want a crackwhore like him for anyway?”

“You ain’t got anything worth betting Angel for.” Four members of the casino security turned up to flank their leader. “Get out ‘Tino. If my boys don’t have to drag your ass out, I won’t charge you for the pearls.”

Val spun away, muttering “fucking furry ass prick, that twink bitch, goddamn assholes.” He squeaked in agitation as he stormed out.

Shortly after Valentino’s limo was gone, Husk took the elevator to the penthouse suites. Angel’s door was cracked open. All his arms were wrapped around himself as rocked on the bed. Husk knocked on the door with the top of his cane. The spider demon jerked, eyes blown wide enough that Husk could see the pupils in even the six small ones.

“He’s gone,” the gambler said mildly. Angel took a deep shaky breath. “You did good.” At Angel’s surprised look he continued, “I told you, anyone fucks with you, they answer to me.”

After a couple more breaths, Angel managed to reply. “Thanks boss. I’ll be back down in five.”

“Nah, you’ve got the night off. Call for room service, just go easy on the booze tonight.” Husk didn’t leave right away; he saw Angel retreating back into the cage of his own arms. The catlike demon sighed and strode through the room to throw the doors to the balcony open. “C’mere.”

Angel walked up hesitantly and placed his ringed hand in Husk’s outstretched one. Husk pulled him out into the night air. He smoothly wrapped an arm around Angel’s waist and lifted the lanky demon’s legs up with the other. Angel reflexively wrapped a set of arms around the other man’s shoulders. “Damn Whiskers, you’re stronger than you look!”

Husk gave a huff. He spread his wings and flapped into the sky. “Oh shit!” Angel yelled, now with four arms clinging to Husk.

“I gotcha babe.” He got enough altitude that they could see every part of the Pentagram with ease. “How’s this for a high?” he joked, smirking at Angel.

“Fuck…it’s a helluva view.” Angel scanned the city. His eyes locked onto Valentino’s porn studio. A tiny fuschia line was just pulling up to the street in front of it.

Husk realized where Angel was looking and shifted to block the Red Light District from view. “Nah, we’ve got better things to look at. There’s a lot more in Hell than that shitbag.”

The train of Angel’s gown fluttered in the air. The cool breeze and the sparkling city below, sounds muffled by distance, helped calm him. As the tension started to ease in his frame, Husk spoke.

“Things change quick here, especially between Overlords. You know that, with how fast ‘Tino lost you. So I ain’t gonna make promises I can’t keep. But for now, you’re mine Angel Dust, and no one fucks with what’s mine.” His gold irises gleamed as his smile turned harsh. “I don’t plan on wagering you, ever. Clear?”

Something cracked in Angel, a chip in the despair. “As crystal baby.” He sighed. “Thanks…Husk.”

A few more minutes and then Husk lowered them back to the balcony. “I need to head back down. Call room service, get some rest.” He took Angel’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back. “Let me know how you’re feeling tomorrow.”

Angel ordered food, changing out of gown and jewelry for an oversized shirt while it was arriving. He’d ordered a bunch of finger foods, easy to eat as he lounged. But he was surprised to find his favorite cocktail added to the cart. A card written in Husk’s handwriting leaned against the stem, “Just one tonight.” He snorted before taking a sip. He was starting to like this kind of pampering.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #huskerdust #hazbin au #fanfiction #angel dust #overlord husk #hazbin valentino