#now I’m trying to eat my sub turned salad

[unremarkablehouse]

Fireworks of the People

Rating: NC-17 | WC 2972 | S7 Fluff/Smut | AO3

Although Yellow Springs, Ohio wouldn’t have been Mulder’s first choice for a Fourth of July getaway, they’ve been to worse places and this time it wasn’t even his fault. Skinner had requested their help in a murder investigation involving a UFO cult leader and the mysterious deaths of some of their followers which had the local ME stumped. The case was surprisingly straightforward, Scully was able to identify a rare poison applied sub-dermally to the victims during contact with the Cult Leader. Mulder elicited a confession from the Cult Leader after stumbling onto his stash of poison and hit list in an obscured room. Neither of them had been shot, abducted, poisoned, or covered in goo, so a pretty good case in Mulder’s books. Still, the look of disappointment when Scully found out that the first flight home wasn’t until after the holiday tugged at Mulder’s heart. Her tight business façade dropped momentarily and he could see that she had been hoping to make whatever Fourth of July plans; but now she was stuck in Yellow Springs with him. The small town’s patriotic decorations ensured there was no way to forget that Independence Day  was happening, acting like salt on fresh wounds, a stinging reminder that they were stuck here for the holiday. Scully was quiet through dinner, not uncommon since their personal relationship was currently ‘on hiatus’, but the immutable cloud of despair that hovered over her while she picked at her salad was too much for Mulder to take. “You know Scully, we could always drive back to D.C. It’s a 10hr drive so we might get in a bit late but at least you could still make some of the holiday.” “It’s fine, Mulder. I still have a final autopsy to do anyway so that will keep me busy most of tomorrow. We’ll just fly out Wednesday morning.” “I’m sorry we’re stuck here-” “It’s not your fault… Charlie is in town, and Bill is visiting with his family too. So Mom has organized this big thing. I haven’t had a chance to see everyone in a while and I was really looking forward to it. Plus, it’s not like we can even go see the fireworks tomorrow, did you know this town does them the Saturday before!” Mulder couldn’t help but swoon over Scully’s petulant pout and felt the need to offer her a show of solidarity with feigned outrage. “What!?! No fireworks on the Fourth of July! That’s just un-American.” “That’s what I’m saying…” Feeling better having vented to Mulder, Scully gave a resigned smile, the tension between them starting to melt. With her mood improved Scully stole some of Mulder’s fries, a long established sign of a truce he mused. Chatting about the case Scully suggested that he get started on the field report while she’s working on the autopsy tomorrow. Mulder nodded in agreement, but they both knew he wasn’t going to touch their paperwork until the last possible minute. Little did she realize Mulder had started to formulate a plan to turn her holiday around.

By noon the next day Mulder received a call from Scully, bored and contemplating eating a questionable sandwich from the morgue’s vending machine. Mulder was attempting to fit a portable hibachi grill into the trunk of the rental, the interruption of his cell phone chirping caused him to pause, trying to get balanced while answering. “Mulder-” “Mulder it’s me, feel like bringing me sustenance?” “I’d love to Scully, but the town is shut down for the holiday. I just had to drop in at the Sheriff’s to make sure my statement was squared away. I guess in this town crime does take a vacation. What time will you be finished?” “Not until 3. I’m waiting on labs to get finished and then I have to finalize the report.” At that moment the top of the mini hibachi grill broke free of his hold, making a loud clanging sound, while Mulder attempted to catch it, cell phone pressed against his ear and shoulder in an awkward balancing act. … “shiiit—” “Mulder, what was that?” “Ahh… I’m just packing and knocked something over. Scully, I’ve gotta go, I’ll see you out the front at 3.” The dejected sound in Scully’s voice doubled Mulder’s resolve to surprise her, giving him a bit more pep to get everything ready in time by the afternoon. The parking lot of the morgue was deserted when Mulder arrived, a lone figure leaning against the door could be seen, obscured by the shadows of the awning. Mulder took a moment to watch Scully stretching herself and enjoying the afternoon sun. As a sign of protest of having to work during a public holiday, Scully had donned jeans and a fitted light blue top instead of her standard business attire. Mulder couldn’t help but smile when he realized they were inadvertently wearing matching outfits, his jeans and blue t-shirt felt appropriate for the day as well. With a wary smile she finally acknowledged his arrival and strolled over to her seat in the car, failing to notice or mention the grocery bags and supplies in the backseat. Slouched in her chair, leaning against the passenger window, Mulder didn’t attempt to make small talk, using her fatigue to help prolong his surprise. The drive to the lookout was uneventful, Scully falling asleep minutes into the ride prevented her from noticing that they had driven at least 20 minutes past the hotel and were making the ascent to reach their destination. Mulder quietly cursed as the road turned bumpy a few miles from the spot. “Mulder, where are we going?” Scully’s disoriented and groggy voice broke the silence and he knew the gig would soon be up. “An early dinner, Scully.” “But everything’s closed?” Scully’s spidey senses started to tingle as she became keenly aware of her surroundings, warily observing that they were driving into a wooded area. “I swear to God Mulder, if you’re dragging me out to hunt Bigfoot instead of dinner-” “Relax, we’re here.” Mulder said, pulling up to a clearing that had an outlook of the town. From the back seat of the car, Mulder pulled out the bedspread from the hotel and 3 pillows, instructing Scully to help him set up. “I don’t think the hotel will be thrilled we’re using their bedding as a picnic blanket” Scully said while repositioning the blanket. “Hotel bedding is expected to get a little dirty!” Mulder handed her a tupperware container from one of the grocery bags he’d been carrying and instructed her to eat. Wary at first, Scully’s eyes lit up when she opened the large container and discovered that it was full of fried chicken. Mulder took a break from setting up to watch Scully eagerly inspect each of the tupperware containers, her look of excitement as she opened each one reminded him of a kid opening presents on Christmas morning and he was determined to do things like this more often. “There’s so much food here! Macaroni salad, fried chicken, fresh corn, watermelon. Mulder, where did you get all this?” “Don’t fill up on the sides,” Mulder said while awkwardly carrying the mini hibachi grill to a level surface not far from their picnic spot. Walking over in time to watch Mulder light the grill, Scully couldn’t help but giggle when Mulder jumped back in shock at the large flame. “So, I don’t think we have to worry about the grill heating up,” Mulder said with a sheepish shrug. Scully gently rubbed his arm reassuringly, before it dawned on her that he had somehow gotten his hands on a functional grill. “Wait, where did you get the grill!?” “I confiscated it from the crime scene.” Scully made a face, “Mulder!” “What? It's not like it was used in the crime and I’ll return it later, but right now we need a way to cook our burgers and hot dogs.” Mulder proudly held up a large cooler, triggering Scully to laugh incredulously. “Did you steal a transport cooler from the morgue!? There were probably human organs or God knows what in that!” Mulder just shrugged while taking out hamburger patties and placing them on the grill, “I rinsed it out first..” Going back to the cooler Mulder handed Scully a beer that had been stored in there, and took one out for himself. “I’m not returning this bad boy either, I’m taking our left-overs home in it!” Scully stood close to Mulder while he grilled, feeding him forkfuls of macaroni salad. This might not have been the way she had pictured her Fourth of July, but the charm of the look out and Mulder’s surprise picnic definitely had made her day. “Bad news Scully, I didn’t think to confiscate tongs, or a spatula so let’s hope my plastic fork works.” They both held their breathe while Mulder carefully attempted to flip their patties over with two plastic forks, earning him a cheer from Scully when he succeeded.   “Alright Partner, get the buns ready, we’re almost done here!” Scully placed the buns on their plates and presented them to Mulder, ready to assemble their food. “Mulder, I can’t believe you put all this together. It’s incredible, but you’ve got to tell me how you did it.” “A magician never tells” Mulder said, handing her a plate with a burger and a hot dog. Sitting together closely on their picnic blanket bedspread, plates on lap, Scully noticed that the tension which had plagued them since their unresolved fight had dissipated. “Mulder, did you do all of this as a peace offering?” Mulder contemplated her words for a moment before replying. “Honestly, no. I am sorry I turned off the alarm that morning, but it was set for 5am, I didn’t do it on purpose and I wasn’t trying to ‘control you’, as you so eloquently said. You always take off before I wake up, so I’m willing to admit that on some level I probably wanted you to stay and at least have breakfast with me.” “Next time you want me to stay longer, use your words and ask me to stay.” Mulder nodded in agreement and was rewarded by Scully feeding him a piece of watermelon.   “I guess having breakfast with you wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, I could make more of an effort to be flexible.” Mulder’s eyebrows shot up at the word ‘flexible’, his cheeky smirk at the double entendre was silenced by a rogue piece of watermelon being shoved in his mouth by a laughing Scully. “Wait, if this wasn’t a romantic gesture, then why did you do all this?” “Regardless of whether we’re fighting or not, you’re my best friend and I hate seeing you upset. I just wanted to do something nice for you.” “Good answer”, Scully reached up to Mulder’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Before things could heat up, Mulder broke off their kiss, and suddenly ran towards the car- leaving a confused Scully behind. For a moment she was concerned that Mulder was about to take off on her, as he had done many times in the past. Before she could question him, Mulder had jogged back to her with his hands behind his back and a huge grin. “One more trick up my sleeve! I know you were bummed about missing out on fireworks…” Mulder proudly presented her with a brightly packaged sparkler, placing the stick in her hand and stepping back as he lit a long fuse. Scully looked at the odd sparkler skeptically, not used to seeing ones with fuses, she moved it away from her body at just the right moment- the sparkler coming to life in an explosive fury. Her scream of delight made Mulder chuckle as different color sparks went everywhere. This was not your standard sparkler. Once it finally burned out, she handed the sparkler to Mulder who doused it with some bottled water and put it on the ground next to the blanket. Wanting to know more about how Mulder put this all together in such short notice, Scully decided to try another interrogation tactic. She took his plate away, ignoring his grumbles as she placed it next to him on the blanket. The complaining stopped as Scully climbed over his body, straddling his legs and placing her arms around his neck. Instinctively Mulder placed his hands on her hips and gave a big smile gazing into her eyes.   “Hi..” Scully said, giving him her best megawatt smile and watching him melt; she had him. Scully closed the distance between them, staring into his eyes, close enough to kiss him, leaving a fraction of an inch between their faces. “Okay Mulder, now you’ve got to tell me how you did all this.” His smitten face betrayed how powerless he was to resist her. “Scully, you should work for the CIA, I’d confess anything to you right now.” She gave him a light peck on the lips and encouraged him to continue. “I knew you were upset about missing your family BBQ today so while you were slicing and dicing, I went on a scavenger hunt. As a thank you for filling out all the case paperwork for the sheriff, his wife packed up the sides and dessert for me. In exchange for helping set up their barbecue, their neighbor donated plates, buns, burgers, and hot dogs. They weren’t too thrilled that I wouldn’t eat with them, but I wanted to wait for you. I found out about this spot from one of the locals, hoarded condiment packets from the diner, and you know where I got the blanket and grill- ”   Before he could finish talking Scully planted a kiss on his lips which he enthusiastically returned. Abruptly Scully pulled back from their kiss, “wait, there’s dessert?” Mulder chuckled, “Yup, some Texas sheet cake and pie.” Mulder was amused by how excited she got over their dessert prospects, earning him another kiss, deeper and more passionate. Without any conscious thought, Mulder’s hands had automatically found their way up Scully’s T-shirt and to her breasts. His firm fondling being met with encouraging moans. Scully’s enthusiastic hips grinded rhythmically into his erection, their mouths never breaking contact. As their hands and bodies explored each other the rest of the world disappeared, and what started as just making out had quickly progressed into some fairly heavy petting. The frenzied look in Scully’s eyes as she pushed Mulder’s shoulders to the ground brought him back to reality. While the clearing was secluded, it was still a public area and he definitely should not have brought Scully to orgasm with his hands down her jeans a few moments ago. It also occurred to him that he should probably stop Scully from unzipping his pants as well. As Mulder's hands tried to slow Scully down from working on his fly, he was having trouble forming the words ‘indecent exposure’, only getting out a grunt as she put her mouth around his cock. When Scully broke to remove her jeans, his breathing slowed and he was able to sit up on his elbows and voice his concerns. “Scully, anyone could come by, we should stop.”Scully was not particularly put off by that thought, giving Mulder a grin as she moved to straddle his cock, menacingly gliding the head up and down her wet slit. “Don’t worry, the whole town is basically shut down.” Whether it was her reasonable risk assessment, or the fact that she had paused with the tip of his cock at her entrance, Mulder showed his consent by thrusting hard up into her. Their foreheads joined together tenderly as they both took a moment to adjust to the feel of him inside her. Their eye contact talked volumes as they intensely gazed at each other, so attuned to each other’s bodies, their breathing synchronized. Scully bit down on her bottom lip, a silent signal indicating that she was ready to continue, pushing his shoulders back down so she could ride him more comfortably. Their hips and thrusts joined together at an even pace, both trying to keep their moans of pleasure relatively quietly given the outdoor setting. Somehow the fact that they were both still mostly clothed added to the lewdness of what they were doing and Mulder felt himself approaching the precipice. Moving his hand from her hips to her clit, he methodically rubbed in hard circles, increasing the force of his thrusts as his hips collided with hers. Her body responded quickly with the familiar spasms of her impending orgasm bringing him over the edge at the same time. Scully collapsed against his chest exhausted and satiated, enjoying the tactile comforts of having Mulder surround her. Before they could fully come down from their lovemaking a large bang erupted out of nowhere. Instincts kicking in, Scully promptly dismounted and had her jeans on in record time, while Mulder lazily tucked himself back into his pants and zipped them up. Another bang rang out, causing Scully to freeze, while Mulder gave a chuckle motioning for her to look out onto the horizon. Scully marveled at the emergence of fireworks being set off from the town below, taking her seat next to Mulder.   “But how?” “Fireworks of the people, Scully. The neighborhoods here do their own fireworks on the fourth.” Mulder wrapped an arm around Scully, giving her access to snuggle into his side and watch the cacophony of different fireworks taking place below. “Mulder, this whole night has been truly amazing.” “I know it’s not your family, but I just wanted to do something nice for you.” “You know you’re my family too, thank you.” Mulder placed a kiss on the crown of her head and squeezed her tighter, preferring to look at Scully instead of the fireworks.

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Note: X files bingo prompt: "Surprise"

X-Files Free-For-All Prompt List: #47

MSR: 4th of July... Mulder and Scully spend the day together... they are watching the fireworks and sharing a kiss... a cute little story 

Tagging: @xfilesfanficexchange @xfilesbingo @today-in-fic

#the x files #msr fic #msr #happy independence day

[lucysweatslove]

09.02.2022 //

This morning started out slow for me. I didn’t have to work, but I still woke up at normal work time despite only getting 6:40 of actual sleep. I waffled on what to eat for breakfast because I had kind of planned to make scrambled eggs but really didn’t feel like eggs. I finally decided on what I call French proast, which is essentially French toast but soaked in protein powder and milk instead of eggs. Currently I’m using Fruity Cereal Mill Ghost protein and it makes the best most fruity French proast. I’ve been aiming to have more fat in my diet for general hormonal health, so breakfast’s fat contribution came in the form of chopped walnuts. I also decided on 3 instead of 2 pieces because…? Idk, I was feeling really lethargic and fatigued and figured I needed the carbs.

After breakfast, I was still feeling sluggish, and Oreo was at daycare, so I just went to lay in bed myself. I’m not advocating for everybody to be lazy and sedentary all of the time, but I’m also never going to advocate for the full “rise and grind” hustle culture. My body said it needed rest. I listened.

Husband came in around noon maybe and informed me he invited a couple of his friends to this Halloween event at the museum. I became royally annoyed. Part of this is because we had already invited two friends and regardless of if they come or not, I don’t want even the potential for a group larger than 4. I get overwhelmed in those situations. Another part is that I don’t actually enjoy those two friends that much. Husband has never asked me what I think of them, but I tend to avoid doing too much with them because I end up more drained and just emotionally feeling like shit around them. A third part to my annoyance is that this wasn’t discussed with me. I originally suggested we go to the event just us two. When we invited the first couple, that was fine- I enjoy spending time with them and can handle 4. But honestly, I still wasn’t THRILLED. This time, it felt like Husband was just completely ignoring what I wanted. That’s a topic for another day. I did tell him that I was not happy with this decision and wish he would’ve talked to me first, but he didn’t want to engage in that conversation and just left.

Anyway I decided I was really not handling that well and probably needed to sleep more, so I took a nap. After my nap, Husband was gone to meet with a notary and pick up Oreo. He picked up subs from Jersey Mikes on the way home too which was delicious. I always forget to ask for no oregano though. I don’t dislike oregano but I don’t like it on a turkey and provolone sub.

I was still feeling pretty sleepy and meh and figured since a) sleep helped but didn’t solve it entirely, b) food was delicious but didn’t really resolve the “meh” feeling, and c) I was definitely drinking enough fluids, the other physical thing to try was exercise. So I got my workout clothes on, turned on What We Do in the Shadows, and did ~30 min of spinning (I think 7.2 miles) through one episode and then my lower body (with some core work) workout through one more episode. I finally finished season 3, and I did actually feel a little better afterwards!

After my workout I wasn’t super hungry since I had a large lunch, but it was a little bit late and I knew I would be hungry later on. I made a nice mixed greens salad with cucumber and celery. I knew I wanted to put my baked tofu on it, so I was debating about dressings as I don’t like oily salads but the dressings we have currently don’t really “go” well with my tofu marinade. So I decided on just vinegar but I did add an avocado for the fats.

Honestly I’m back to feeling pretty meh right now. I could take another bath, but I don’t want to use my bath bombs up too quickly. Maybe bath salts? Or maybe just binge watch season 4 because Colin Robinson.

#personal #journal #my face #still filtered because my confidence in my face isn’t high today

[priscila-runs]

Week 4 micro log to observe, track, adjust my daily activities. I’d like to do this again next week because week 4 has been FUNKY. Our fridge broke down at the beginning of august and much to our absolute surprise and dismay, the property manager replaced it with a critter-infested fridge. This means that for the past couple weeks we’ve had roaches Trojan horse their way into our kitchen and personal space lol. Not good. We threw out most of the opened containers and saved what we could in coolers while we waited for a new fridge (which was a battle bc landlords in TX are not fun) and in the meantime took to eating out a lot, which, to no one’s surprise, led to very few affordable and healthy meals. A heartbreak for its own reasons. It’s been an interesting adventure. Fast forward ⏩ again to today and we are now in the clear with a new fridge and (fumigated) reclaimed personal space lol. Keep in mind that my log below was in the midst of this funhouse adventure.

Monday morning: exhausted, did not have the energy to wake up at 5AM. I think it’s because my LR was yesterday (like every Sunday so far), and I went to bed at 10:30, an hour and a half late! Ran my five miles at lunchtime today on the treadmill with great success! One perk of the treadmill is that it keeps you right on pace. Had sweet potato, beans and rice bowl with pumpkin seeds, spinach and lemon salad for dinner at a place called Honest Mary’s. Will try again for their wide variety of other bowl options.

Tuesday: Last night went to bed at 9:30, score. Woke up at 5:10, it’s now 5:15AM and I’m feeling much better than I did yesterday morning but muscles definitely a little tight. 3 miles today.

Tues night: actually just ran 1 mile bc groin area felt strained. I started feeling hesitant about running hard so I turned back. Going to bed at 9:30 and doing a tempo workout tomorrow. I promised myself that I will adjust my schedule THIS WEEK.

Wed morning: woke up less tired at 5:15. Headed out the door at 5:35 and did a tempo workout with just coffee. 🥵 I’m starting to get a hold of my Wednesday morning routine, which is good bc it’s the one I want to prioritize bc Wednesday is speed day.

Wednesday night successfully went to bed at 9PM!

Thursday morning woke up at 5:30, crap. But went out the door by 5:45 giving me plenty of time to do three miles at 8 min pace. Tumble 22 for dinner. I’m not aware of fried chicken sandwiches being on a dietitian’s meal plan 🤷‍♀️ but I fkn love fried chicken sandwiches so I said what the hell. At least I subbed the fries for potato salad 😇 It was a very enjoyable meal.

Friday: feeling great this morning. Five miles at 8:25 pace 🥵 Pizza for dinner! Ate the crust, which, I’m ashamed to admit, is a new endeavor for me.

Saturday. Today is dad’s birthday so I’m driving to see the family and celebrate. Hoping to do a long run there but his town is so small that I’d probably need to loop the town and back to do the full 12 miles. Rest day today.

Sunday: I surprised my dad with a margarita machine for his 60th birthday party. It was a blast until I realized it was midnight. I went to bed and while I did not do my long run (sad) I did wake up at 4AM to watch the Perseid meteor shower on the trampoline in complete solitude. One thing I love about the hill country is the night sky. Star gazing is an activity I’ve always treasured here for as long as I can remember. Therefore, the timing of my trip on the night of the showers was perfect. Those 30 minutes were remarkable.

I DIGRESS.

I adjusted my schedule this week per my promise to self. I now have speed days on Thursdays, rest day on Mondays and easy runs on Wednesdays. Hopeful that this adjustment will give me room to breathe during the work week and allow Thursdays the crucial concentration needed for building speed 😈 Gave the Hoka Mach 5s a try and they are great for long runs 👌 however, my Nike Pegasus, which I’ve had for a year or so, are the darlings✨ Wide toe box yet narrow, and not a lot of heel height, perfect for my silly little overpronating feet.

I’m curious about trying a pair of Mizunos next. Anyone out there tried?

#marathon #running #marathon training runner #mizuno

[eggs-love-loki]

Haha we’ve reached the “I’m physically repulsed by all forms of substance” stage of stress that’s funky fresh

#my surprise phone interview pushed me over the edge I guess #I mean I did good and landed the in person interview at least #but yikes that was a shock when I called to schedule and they were like ‘do you have time right now for a little phone interview’ #I was like ‘hahahahaha of course! let’s do it’ #I’ve never done retail job shit before cause I’m spoiled and just have been house and babysitting #so I tried my best to answer with ‘I live to serve customers in all my free times’ vibes #now I’m trying to eat my sub turned salad #which is a safe food mind you I love subs turned into salads #and putting it in my mouth makes me want to puke #tastes good still but like lifting my fork to my mouth is such a chore arghhhh #I could barely eat lunch too ugh this will not be good if it keeps up man

[bellatrixscurls]

“raspberry” ☁️ d.m. x t.n x p.p.

warnings : smut, daddy kink, fingering, oral, dom!draco, switch!pansy, switch!theo, sub!reader, fem!reader.

summary : you and your lovers go on a picnic, but things take a turn when they become more and more attractive.

word count : 5.7k

a/n : it was pretty long already, but might make a part two if you want!

“theo, love, give y/n/n the raspberries from the basket, please” instructed pansy, her eyes flicking to theo’s for a second before focusing back on cutting some kiwis for the fruit salad.

theo did as told, opening the basket and grabbing the box of raspberries, placing them on the spot beside you. but you were too preoccupied to notice that, as your eyes trailed from pansy’s hands, down to her lap.

her thighs were exposed, her dress almost letting you see her panties as her eyebrows pushed together, eyes and hands focused on the fruits. she was so beautiful, more beautiful than other days. you’d convinced her not to straighten her hair this once, so it was wavy, and natural. the sun was emphasazing the beautiful shade of green of her eyes. in conclusion, she looked like the most beautiful goddess.

as soon as she was done with the fruits, she placed the now full bowl beside her and laid back on the blanket, her curls falling around her head perfectly. “what’s wrong, baby ? you like raspberries” she told you as soon as she noticed your frozen figure and the untouched raspberries, a big pout on her lips.

“like y-you more” you mumbled, looking down at your lap as you began fiddling with your fingers, your cheeks now burning red.

she narrowed her eyes in confusion, looking at the two boys to see if they understood, but found that they were just as clueless. “you all subby, my love ?” draco asked from beside you.

you nodded, leaning into his touch the moment his palm cupped your burning cheek. “wanna make you feel good” you said, your attention now fully on draco as you stared into his silver eyes.

pansy nudged theo, who cleared his throat suggestively, making you and draco turn to look at him, “how ‘bout we make you feel good, princess ?” he suggested, his loving, yet lustful gaze on you as draco gently laid you on your back.

you didn’t want any release yourself, and only wanted to see your lovers in pleasure, but the moment those words left theo’s mouth, you found yourself nodding vigorously, your muscles relaxing against the thin blanket.

“yes, please.”

pansy gave draco a knowing look, as he was usually the one to degrade you and tell you how disobedient you were.

“legs spread, m’love. please” theo cooed softly, his fingers caressing the inside of your thighs. you obliged almost immediately, pushing your legs apart as your pink dress rode up, revealing your panties. theo stayed there for a moment, admiring the sight before him as he continued to squeeze and caress your soft skin.

pansy pushed past him, so she was now before you, her soft hands replacing theo’s. “gonna eat you out now, yeah, baby ?” you nodded eagerly, whimpering a small ‘please’ as pansy chuckled, leaning closer to you and whispering, “daddy and theo don’t know how to, do they ? mommy does it best, hm ?”

she was playing with your mind, while trying to rile the two boys up, knowing they could still hear despite her soft, quiet tone, “i don’t-” “excuse me, pansy ?” rang theo’s offended voice as his hand flew to his heart, holding his chest, “one, you can’t just steal someone’s meal like that, it’s fucking rude” you giggled, watching intently as the usual competition between the two started to peak, “and two, i’m better than you.”

pansy scoffed, clearly amused by her boyfriend’s words, “well, i’ll have you know, theo, that y/n/n here said-”

“fucking enough!” draco interrupted, bringing everyone’s attention back on him as he glared at the two, “who even gave you permission to eat my baby out, hm ? ‘cause i didn’t and she sure as hell said that she wants me, not you” his voice was stern as he regained his dominance over the two.

they watched him with wide eyes, now submissive to him as their heads dropped, avoiding draco’s gaze at all costs, “yes, daddy.”

“now, i’m gonna eat my pretty girl out, and you two better take care of her while i do” instructed draco, his hand never leaving your cheek as he gave it one last stroke before moving both of his hands to the hem of your dress.

his pale fingers tugged lightly at your panties as his eyes flicked back to yours, “can i take these off, pup ?” he asked, a genuinely worried expression on his face as he searched for any trace of hesitation. your eyes widened slightly — draco isn’t someone who usually asked for consent, because he knew that your safe word was in place, “pup ?” you finally nodded, letting him take off your underwear.

draco pulled a needy whimper from you at the feeling of him blowing cold air against your sensitive cunt, making you buck your hips slightly so you were met with his warm, slightly parted lips, “daddy, please. i want it so-” but not letting you finish your begging, his mouth attached to your dripping cunt aggressively, nibbling at your clit and causing you to look where you two were connected.

his face was nowhere to be seen, buried deep into your cunt and focusing in making you feel good, "o-oh, daddy!" you whined between shallow breaths, pushing his head even closer to your cunt. a few more whimpers from you, and draco’s content hums that sent shivers through your whole body, and theo felt like he couldn’t take it anymore.

the way your breasts were bouncing with every thrust of draco’s tongue made him go insane. and risking punishment, his lips wrapped around your already hard nipples, sucking gently while his hand took care of your other nipple.

and that only seemed to add onto your pleasure, as your hand went down to gently tug at his soft hair, while the other was scratching at the back of his neck. “so good, m’love. taking care of me s-so well” you whispered in theo’s ear, earning a wave of pretty noises from him — whines, to be exact.

feeling yourself at the brink, you knew just what you had to do. and even though you struggled a bit because draco’s beautiful eyes were watching your every move, you still somehow managed to say it, “c-can i please cum, daddy ? please, need it so bad, want to- oh god!” once again, you were left speechless and breathless as draco’s thumb circled your clit, all while his tongue was pistoning in and out of your tight hole.

and your worries were taken away when he gave a firm nod, closing his eyes when you finally let your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his cock as his left hand was firm on your lower stomach, holding you down. “daddy! theo! mm- ‘s s-so good, merlin!” you cried out as you came hard, pushing theo closer to your chest as the boy struggled to breathe through his nose.

after several seconds of you trying to calm down after your mind blowing orgasm, draco removed his mouth off you, gathering all of your cum from his chin and sucking it from his fingers, as you watched with lustful eyes.

but still, in your foggy mind, something was wrong. you could sense it, but not fully understand what was wrong.

and then it clicked. pansy.

draco too, looked over his shoulder to see pansy just standing behind him, crouched down, frozen in place as she watched you three with wide eyes. the boy crawled to her, taking her hands in his as he brought her knuckles to his mouth, kissing them softly, “s’not nice being bad, is it, bunny ?” he asked, to which she shook her head, a couple of tears almost leaking out of her eyes as her vision became blurry, “you wanna be good for daddy too, baby ? look what y/n/n got for being so good for daddy” his words caused your girlfriend to look up at you, blinking blearily as she let the tears wet her warm cheeks.

“wanna be good too, daddy” she said once her eyes were back on his, and draco smiled sweetly at her. you were confused by how subby she got for him, keeping in mind that she was dominating you just minutes before.

“good bunny” draco stroke her cheek, as his other hand wiped away her tears, “go to theo and let daddy see how good you can be, the two of you.”

#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy blurb #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott smut #theo nott smut #theo nott x reader #pansy parkinson x y/n #pansy parkinson smut #pansy parkinson x reader #pansy parkinson x you #pansy parkinson blurb #harry potter blurb #harry potter x reader #harry pottet imagine #harry potter smut

[fishytrouble1]

Sidemen Mafia - Part 1: Meeting Ethan

BehzingaxReader

You were running, running for survival. You knew if you stopped that THEY would catch up and that was something you just couldn’t let happen. You couldn’t risk going back to THEM, and their way of living. You were unsure just how far behind they were but you kept facing forward and kept going.

You were running what felt like days but was only a few mere hours. You started walking when you reached a quiet looking town. You strolled down the street with just the bag of clothes and valuables on your back. When you thought about it you realised just how sad it looked that all your belongings could fit into such a small bag.

You were looking for somewhere where you could lay low for a few hours and rest but you saw the lights on in what looked like a café. You searched your pockets for any type of cash. You were lucky to find a £5 note in your back pocket, you hoped it would be enough for at least a sandwich.

Because it was late at night, you knew it would be quiet but you only saw three other people in the Café. one was a couple clearly finishing up a date night and one was a brooding man in the corner. You wouldn’t have noticed him if it wasn’t for how observant you trained yourself to be.

Luckily none of them paid any attention to you as you made your way to the counter. A middle-aged looking woman made her way to you with a bright smile on her face. You felt comfortable in her presence, for the first time a woman made you feel welcomed.

“Hi Sweetie, what can I get for you?” She asks.

You place your five pound note onto the counter as you ask, “Is there anything I can get with this? Unfortunately it’s all I have on me, and I was hoping I could get just a drink or something.”

“Well, you’re in luck, I can get you a chicken salad sub and a small coke.” The woman replies.

“That sounds amazing, thank you.” 

As she’s preparing everything she starts up a conversation, you also notice that she eyed your bag, probably trying to figure out what sort of situation you were in.

“My name’s Ruth by the way. I hope you don’t mind my asking but you seem to have only a small bag on you and you look a little lost. Is everything okay?”

You smile, appreciating how forward she is but also thinking about how to answer. You felt as if you could be somewhat truthful with this woman, “Yeah, well I don’t have much stuff to call my own and when I decided to leave home I didn’t think much about where I was going. Also I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Can I ask why you left your home?” Ruth asks.

“You can but I’m not quite sure whether I’m ready to talk about it yet. Let’s just say it wasn’t the easiest of places to live. Unfortunately though I’ve now made myself a homeless 22 -year-old girl.”

“Oh Sweetie. Everything will be okay. You know my son owns a hotel not to far from here, I can get you a room for a couple of nights if you want.” Ruth offers as she hands you a sandwich and a drink.

“Oh no I couldn’t afford that and I wouldn’t want to put you into an awkward position with your son.” You take a bite of the sandwich as she considers your words.

“You wouldn’t be causing any problems between me and my mother. I’ve been watching and listening to you since you came in and I wouldn’t mind letting you stay in my hotel for a few nights, free of charge.” You jump at the voice from behind you, You turn around to come face to face with the man from the corner.

You were shocked that you hadn’t noticed how sexy he looked when you first spotted him, but you supposed it was down to the fact he was hiding in the shadows just about. You pull yourself out of your trance and answer him.

“Look, whatever your name is..”

“It’s Ethan”, he interrupts.

“Look, Ethan. It’s a very kind offer but I’m afraid even if I wanted to I couldn’t. I’d be putting you and your mother in danger and I can’t have that on my conscious. Thank you both for your kindness and hospitality but I just can’t except anymore of your help.” You say.

You start to finish your sandwich, as he sits next to you whilst staring at you. 

“You know it’s considered rude to stare at someone, especially whilst they’re eating.” You comment causing him to smirk.

“You know you’re the first girl to turn down any offer I’ve given to them. Albeit theirs was a little more...more. But still, you intrigue me.” He looks at you as if he’s trying to figure you out.

You just finish your meal and stand up, grabbing your bag in the process. You turn back to Ruth.

“Ruth, thanks again for being so caring. And, Ethan thanks for trying to help but it’s best if I try and make it own my own. Hopefully, I’ll see you guys again. Bye.” You turn and walk out of the café.

An hour later you were still walking for somewhere just to hide for the night, You eventually find an alley with a little hidden cubby in it and choose to stay there for the night.

Although what you didn’t know was that you would later come to regret this choice. 

END

Part 2

#sidemen #sidemen fanfiction #behzinga #behzinga x reader #ethan payne #zerkaa #joshua bradley #vikkstar123 #vikram barn #miniminter #simon minter #ksi #ksiolajidebt #olajide olatunji #w2s #Harry Lewis #tbjzl #tobi brown #freya nightingale #talia mar #mafia au #bad boy #secrets

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 2

Rating: Explicit. 18+

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it’s own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You’re Peter’s classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you’re lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Bad girls are sad girls! Always wondered what goes through the mind of a spoiled, rich but intelligent and perceptive teenager? Have you found yourself craving that adrenaline rush, the danger of a forbidden fruit? Okay. That was cheesy as hell. Gross.

Let’s try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We’re living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn’t actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @vozit​ @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings  ! She deserves all the love 💙

Peter woke me up at eight AM the next morning like the little shit that he was, demanding I make him pancakes. It wasn’t the first time I’ve had the joy to experience him in the morning and he knew exactly how to antagonise me enough to make him the special pancakes he liked so much. They had become kind of a ritual whenever he stayed over at my house, which was quite often - teachers liked me enough to pair me up with one of the most sensible kids for any projects that couldn’t be done alone by yours truly on her own.

I put on my yesterday’s dress, applied moisturizer and obediently trotted behind an excitedly mumbling Peter. The kitchen was large, beautiful and delightfully empty of any resident superheroes. I’ve indirectly crossed paths with all of the tower’s residents hanging around Tony, but I’ve yet had to speak more than polite niceties to any of them. 

Spying a bowl of boiled eggs and some sort of weird salad alongside half burned toast on the counter, I suddenly understood why Peter demanded his pancakes. I strictly instructed the disaster child to stay away from my cooking process and set to work with one ear listening to his ramblings and a headphone in the other. 

A set of thumping footsteps appeared behind me as I was pouring the batter for the first pancake. Their owner loudly sat down next to Peter, sighing, groaning, generally making “I’m not a morning person” sounds.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes,” Peter’s tone was way, way too chipper.

“‘mrng,” The Sergeant grumbled. “Who’s this and why is she making pancakes?”

I turned around, spatula at the ready. “It’s me,” We’ve actually met before, but Barnes had left before I could even come over from my side of the work bench to say hello.

He nodded in acknowledgement after giving me a suspicious once-over. “One of Stark’s science children. I’m James but you can call me Bucky,” His voice sounded rough and gravely, and he clutched a coffee cup half the size of my head.

I snorted. “Science child, sure,” It wasn’t half-bad actually. I wisely choose to ignore the part of being Tony’s. No matter how hot the man was, I wasn’t anybody’s but my own, thank you very much. “Go get the bananas, Nutella and maple syrup, fellow science child.”

Peter scrambled to follow instructions as I plated the pancakes and cut the bananas into neat little rings to fill the sweet circles with. A tablespoon of Nutella, half a sliced banana, wrap, garnish with powdered sugar and pour maple syrup generously on top. I really didn’t see how this could be difficult but any and all attempts to teach Peter how to recreate my masterpiece always ended up in an absolute mess. I turned around to ask Bucky if he wanted any. The look of a man starved answered all my questions.

“You’re a goddess,” Peter moaned around his mouthful, nose smudged white with the powdered sugar.

“Gross, chew first then talk, you neanderthal,” I scoffed, prepping more batter for the second batch of pancakes. I wasn’t sure if everybody would show up but figured it would be rude to exclude them from the sheer magnificence that were my pancakes. I was just that good.

The music in my ear drowned most of Peter’s disgusting chewing noises, thankfully. My second batch vanished into thin air, inhaled by the two males like the garbage disposals that they were. Peter, in particular, ate an alarming quantity of food and I was surprised how he managed to stay so skinny. His daily eating schedule resembled the Hobbits.

More people appeared, this time acting less surprised regarding me standing at the stove. Hawkeye, Black Widow, Scarlet Witch and her brother, all of them wandered in wearing sleep attire with various amusing prints. Thankfully, they mostly kept quiet or chatted with Peter - I would have definitely grumbled if someone tried to talk to me. As far as my body was concerned it was still the middle of the night.

“PANCAKES,” A booming voice announced and I shuddered at the sheer intensity and devotion contained in that one word. Thor.

“Please use your indoor voice,” I snapped reflectively. My brain caught up with what I just did so I hastily backtracked. “Sorry, I’m a bitch in the mornings.”

The blonde man chuckled, coming over to poke his nose into my flurry of pour-flip-fill sequence. Then, with all the grace and manners of a prince, he dipped one (1) large finger into the jar of Nutella and wandered off with it stuck in his mouth. With this turn of events the Nutella was bound to run out sooner than expected.

I turned around, annoyed confusion in plain sight. “The fuck?.. That’s gross, don’t do that,” Finding his brother (adopted!) sitting next to Thor, wearing a haughty smirk, finger still in his mouth. So Loki turned into his brother to steal Nutella from a jar. I sighed. Nobody even batted an eye. “Your alien germs are in there now, double ew.”

“Alien germs? Where?” Bruce entered the kitchen with a tablet under his arm, wearing Hulk themed pajamas, Captain America in tow. I was honestly on the verge of breaking down into hysterical laughter. Domestic Avengers wasn’t something I’d expected to see or experience, ever, much less be a part of. It took a moment for me to remind myself that they were people, too, and each of them was entitled to their own quirks. 

“America, egg-splain,” Peter muttered under his breath, giggling. “Loki stuck his hand in the Nutella jar,” He pointed at said jar. “She got grumpy,” Peter pointed at me. “Don’t make her grumpy, please, I want more pancakes,” And turned his pleading puppy eyes in my direction again.

“This is indentured servitude,” I pointed my spatula at the little shit. “You just had, like, ten.” But I made more batter nonetheless. I must admit it was kind of cool, seeing the earth’s mightiest defenders so relaxed. And Pete being happy, that was just… The best. I don’t know how to explain it. His eternal cheerfulness was highly contagious.

Chuckles filled up the room, the adults chatting and bickering amongst themselves while they patiently waited for their own breakfast. 

“Do you need some help?” Bruce approached me after stopping to fetch himself a cup of tea. It smelled strongly of tangy herbs and honey.

“I need more Nutella and bananas,” I admitted, surveying the sheer amount of people I had to feed. I didn’t doubt the Captain and two Asgardians had an appetite to match Peter’s which meant a literal extra set of condiments was required. Thankfully, Bruce fetched them for me, coming to a stop next to me. “Anything else?”

“You know, I tried making these with Peter and he just ended up with powdered sugar and chocolate all over himself,” I mused, noting the way Banner was carefully observing the assembly of a pancake. “You think Doctor seven-phds can manage to add a few toppings to a pancake without causing a disaster?“ 

Bruce rolled his eyes fondly, bumping me with his hip. "I’m no Clint Barton when it comes to cooking but at least I don’t burn my toast like Steve,” True to his word, his hands made swift motions of filling, wrapping and plating each individual pancake. They were almost as good as mine albeit more messy. I had lots of practice though. We finished off a batch in companionable silence, sounds of the team and my music playing in the background. 

I didn’t notice when I started swaying to the rhythm, catching a confused look from Bruce. I brushed back my hair, revealing a wireless headphone in my ear and he chuckled in understanding. “What are you listening to?”

“Right now? Kings of Leon,” I said, leaning towards him so he could hear the chorus “Use Somebody” currently occupying my right ear. 

“I like them, too,” He said, his cheek gently touching mine. His hands slowed on the pancake, a soft hum vaguely reminding me of the song’s melody emanating from his throat. “What else do you usually listen to?”

“Mostly heavier stuff, but I have a whole separate playlist dedicated to mid-2000s bops,” I answered. “I’ve heard I’m quite old school when it comes to music.”

“Well, I am an old man, so…” Bruce grinned mischievously. “But my guilty pleasure is Lady Gaga,” He admitted with a laugh.

I laughed, too. The image of his dancing in his lab to Born This Way was too much for my brain and I hung my head, fighting giggles. Bruce bumped me with his hip again, faking a pout. “Okay, okay, that was a fucking hilarious image, you go dude,” I finally powered through my struggle to contain laughter. “My own guilty pleasure would be… Umm… Lana Del Rey, I guess.”

Bruce made a vague noise of confusion. I took a brief break from mixing the batter to dig out my second headphone, presenting it to him and switching to a song. “This is what makes us girls”. Despite the fact I have never stolen a car or had a close female friend, the nostalgia was real. “Carmen” followed after the first song and I silently thanked whatever deity that “You can be the boss” was taken out of Spotify - I don’t think I was prepared to share that kind of information with a lab partner. An older, handsome lab partner. Wait… Where did that come from?

“I like it,” He said after the song ended and my more usual stuff began playing. “It suits you, I think.”

I groaned. “Really? I think it’s edgy,” Hiding away the embarrassment, I passed him a tray of freshly baked pancakes, occupying his immediate attention.

“You’re an old soul,” He gave me a lopsided smile. I saw a very faint blush tinting his cheeks, the kind of blush that had me wondering about the meaning behind his words. 

I gave an attempt at a smile in response, the left corner of my mouth barely tilting up. We talked some more about the rock music we shared in our earphones. I had a lot of 80s hair metal and 90s grunge in my playlist. Bruce was not a Curt Cobain man but enjoyed the works of his legacy, Marcy Playground. 

A tan hand wormed its way between me and Bruce, snatching a handful of banana slices and disappeared just as swiftly. “Tonyyy,” Bruce groaned, picking up another banana to replace the stolen pieces.

The spatula in my hand became a weapon as I blindly aimed at the target behind my back. A loud “ow” indicated I hit it. When I turned around, Tony was clutching the side of his face, a hurt look in his eyes and cheeks stuffed full of stolen goods. I stared him square in the face, absolutely refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was shirtless - the arc reactor glowed brightly in the middle of his toned chest. Fuck.

His chest was honestly what I was aiming for. I constantly kept forgetting how short he actually was. There was this one time when Tony had to put his arms around me to steady a piece of tech - he felt huge, hard and enormous around me. 

“What’s that for, Princess?” He finally chewed through his food and found his voice.

“For being a Tony,” I retorted. “Stay away from my workspace and wait for your breakfast like everybody else.”

“Hey! This is my kitchen,” He whined immediately, like the adult man that he was. I nearly cried from how adorable his face became, eyebrows scrunched up. “I don’t want to wait! And why does he,” Tony’s finger accusingly pointed at Bruce, “Get the bananas?!”

“Because he’s Brucie-bear,” I stuck my nose up in the air when Bruce’s arm wrapped around my waist. “He’s my science father,” I stuck my tongue out at Tony, seeing Bruce’s triumphant smile. Banner used every opportunity to get back at Tony’s incessant sass. 

The gleaming in Tony’s eyes should have alarmed me. “But he’s not your science daddy,” Tony’s flirting was accompanied by a salacious eyebrow wiggle and Peter’s screech of “OH MY GOD!" 

It took me every ounce of willpower to not flush. It was one of those rare times that I was at a complete loss of words. Thinking on the spot, I gave a very meaningful look to Bruce - thankfully, he got the gist and returned an equally filthy smirk back. Tony gaped.

"Is this how they are in the lab?” The Captain’s quiet voice leaked horrified amusement.

“All.The.Time.” Peter’s resonating groan was followed by Romanoff’s laughter.

We went up to the lab after breakfast. Thankfully Tony stopped his dramatic bitching when I served him my pancakes, scarfing them down much like everybody else. So me and Pete were accompanied by one (1) happy engineer, all three of us tinkering away on a robot that we were supposed to present in our science class in a month. The focus that was required to solder was immense and our usual banter was missing, replaced by an occasional request for a specific tool or a water bottle.

It took a few hours to get the dirty job done even with Tony’s help (technically he wasn’t supposed to but neither me nor Pete had the heart to forbid him from it when the man looked so content and happy soldering away). By the time I uncurled from my spot on the bench, my back was in knots and my dress had oil stains and holes all over it. I immediately went to the nearest water bottle, finishing half of it in seconds, picking up my phone to see if I had any important messages from my mother.

None.

Just a message from Bruce.

I tapped on my phone, idly scrolling through the Instagram app, liking some pictures of people I barely knew and keeping up a general appearance of being very busy. When the ringtone started playing, it took me a whole five seconds to understand it was, in fact, coming from my phone - I certainly wouldn’t put something so… Outrageous as my main tone.

Banner had discovered the power of the internet. You Can Be The Boss played loudly, and it played from my phone and Bruce was calling me. I picked it up, turning around, fighting the incoming laughter. “Yes, Brucie?" 

To say that Tony’s and Peter’s faces were scandalised was nothing. The boy’s face was such a deep shade of red, I started worrying about his blood pressure and Tony’s mouth hung open limply, like he was witnessing the second coming of Christ. 

"Is Tony sufficiently traumatized?” Judging by the breathless tone of his voice, Banner was resisting a mighty laughing fit of his own.

“Oh, absolutely,” I happily chirped.

“Good, keep it up. Come to my lab before you leave,” Banner snorted and then, realising what he’d done, promptly hung up, the tell-tale beginning of a giggle fit abruptly interrupted by a dial tone.

I put the phone in my bag, gathering the rest of my things with a look somewhere between innocence and indifference. At least, I hoped it was - my mind kept jumping between the engineer’s ridiculously scandalised face and the way his mouth went slack, lips moist and soft and plush. That’s a very dangerous trail.

A very dangerous trail I couldn’t resist exploring in the solitude and privacy of my own bedroom, at home.

#bun writes #party favours #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n

[topsytervy]

Mob Rafe: The Series

Part 1

I still couldn’t think of a title after a month so it’s just going to stay as Mob Rafe: The Series

You can read the prologue here

Word Count: 4,096

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, i think that’s it

~~~~

It was almost 10:30 when you stood in your kitchen, staring into your fridge that was practically empty, trying to figure out what you could make for breakfast. You finally decided on eggs after googling how to tell if they were still good or not and decided that they were fine. After all, JJ had eaten moldy bread before. What’s the difference between that and eating eggs a couple of days past their best by date.

As the eggs cooked in the pan, you grabbed the Aleve and a glass, filling it with water, before walking into the spare bedroom and setting them on the nightstand. You smiled as you watched JJ hug a pillow to his chest, looking rather serene. 

In about half an hour, he’d be complaining though and you’d have to listen to it until he left.

You went back to the eggs, stirring them around as you glanced out your kitchen window. You leaned closer and squinted, trying to make out the faces of the people who were going in and out of the place next door. 

That house had been up for sale since a week after you moved in, the old lady that lived there deciding that it was time to go into a home.

Well, her family decided. She screamed every curse word underneath the sun as her things, and herself, were being moved out.

That was almost a year ago. You tried convincing JJ to buy it but he said ‘I’m not living near a bunch of people who think my business is their business’. You tried to figure out who exactly was moving in but it was hard to tell considering it could’ve been any of the three guys who were exiting and entering the house.

You sighed before turning your attention back to the eggs that were close to done, hearing JJ groan from the guest room. 

“Who the fuck made the sun so bright?” You heard him say, voice muffled.

“Depends on the religion of the person you’re asking!” You hollered back.

“Well, I’m not religious so make it non-religious.” You heard a thump come from the room and you assumed that it was his feet hitting the floor.

“Then the Big Bang.” 

“Like the show?” 

You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath. “You know what? Sure. Like the show.”

JJ emerged, rubbing his face with one of his hands, the glass of water in his other.

“Oh, fucking hell. My head is pounding.” He mumbled, sitting down at the little kitchen table you had.

“I wonder why.” You asked, sarcasm lacing your voice as you plated the eggs. 

You brought the eggs over to JJ and set them down with a fork. JJ shot you a smile as you sat down across from him before he began to eat. “Where’s your food?” He questioned, eyeing the empty place in front of you.

You shrugged. “Not that hungry.”

JJ rolled his eyes. 

“I’m just not hungry in the mornings’ JayBird. You know this.”

“You should eat in the mornings. Even if it’s just a toaster strudel or a pop tart.” 

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes as you stood up and walked over to your almost empty pantry, rummaging around for anything. You managed to find a pop tart hiding away and you opened it, taking a bite from the pastry. “Happy?”

“When’s the last time you went grocery shopping?” 

You shrugged. “I’m planning on doing a little run today.” 

“You didn’t answer my question Y/N.”

You walked over to him and placed both your hands on either side of his face. “Don’t worry about me JJ. I’m not starving. Mom dropped off leftovers and I finished them an hour before you showed up last night. She’s been giving me so many leftovers, I just haven’t had the need to go grocery shopping in a bit. Besides, I finished off the potato salad she gave me two days ago at like 5 a.m. this morning when I went to go pee. So I technically had breakfast.”

“What was last night’s leftovers?”

“Tuna casserole. The week before that was a chicken pot pie. And the week before that was stir fry. And the week before that was-”

“Okay, I get it.” He cut you off.

You smirked as you sat back down in your spot. You were pretty sure that your mom was dropping off food just so she could get some time with you. Between work and classes, you didn’t really have time to go over and visit as much as you should. If you weren’t doing either of those things, you were either catching up on sleep or doing as much of your homework as possible. You were lucky you had a fenced in yard so Blue could run around for a while for those days you didn’t have the energy to take him out for a walk.

This also meant you definitely didn’t have the energy to drive yourself to the store and figure out what you needed for food and then drive back home. 

So, you were living on your mom’s leftovers that she brought over since she seemed to forget that there was one less person in the house so she didn’t have to make as much food.

“You want me to come with you?” JJ asked, scooping more eggs into his mouth.

“You really don’t need to. I think I can do a simple grocery run myself.” You smiled.

“Don”t say I didn’t offer when you’re making more than one trip.” 

You took another bite of your pop tart as you looked down at the floor where Blue and Piper laid, looking at you and JJ for any scraps. JJ was the one to break, giving the two dogs his last bits of breakfast before he leaned back, interlocking his fingers together as he placed them behind his head.

“What do you think the others did last night?” He asked.

You just shrugged, giving him the other pop tart which he reluctantly took after you wouldn’t bring it back to the foil after he shook his head no. JJ felt bad for taking it after just having eggs but if you were so persistent on him having it, he might as well just take the damn thing.

He took a bite and looked out the kitchen window and, through a mouthful of pop-tart, asked, “Who’s moving in?” 

You shrugged once more. “I’ll let you know later today when I find out.”

******

“You guys whine more than anyone I know,” Rafe told Kelce and Topper as they brought the couch through the door.

“Yeah. I wonder why. It can’t be because we woke up with massive hangovers and someone made us get up at 8:30 in the morning.” Kelce grumbled.

“I told you guys that you might want to take it easy on the alcohol considering we’re going to be up early tomorrow and the sun’s going to be shining all day. I also told you we'd ve working until we had everything moved in. It’s your fault that you two didn’t listen.” Rafe stated, looking behind him so he could see where he was going. "And think of this, you won’t have to go to the gym tomorrow."

“You sound like my mom. Shut up.” Topper grunted, looking at the floor.

As far as Rafe was concerned, it was Kelces and Topper’s fault. He did, after all, tell them what was happening and what day he was moving in. And he provided lunch for them and was also providing dinner so why were they whining. He would've been better off recruiting Sarah for this job. She would've complained less.

“I’m losing grip. Down. Down.” Kelce told the two.

They set the couch down on the floor and caught their breath, leaning against the piece of furniture. Rafe checked his watch. 

4:30 pm. 

He sighed as he noticed the hunger in his stomach for the first time since 11 when they ate lunch.

“It was nice of Rose and Ward to give you all their old furniture,” Topper commented, causing Rafe to look at him. 

Rafe scoffed. “They only did that so they could have an excuse to get new furniture.”

“Even if that’s true, at least you didn’t have to spend thousands of dollars to get furniture.”

Rafe sighed. Topper had a point and he had to admit, he was a bit grateful to his father and stepmother for deciding their furniture was outdated. Even if it was only 2 years old.

“Kelce, wanna grab the water bottles from the truck?” He asked. 

Kelce nodded, heading outside to retrieve the drinks as Rafe readjusted his grip.

"Oh, we're gonna finish this without Kelces’ help," Topper said, catching on after a couple of seconds of Rafe staring at him. 

Topper readjusted his grip, nodding to let Rafe know he was ready. 

"Yes, Top. And then we're gonna order a pizza." Rafe grunted as they lifted the couch once more.  

"You're paying right?"

"Yes, I’m paying. Now angle it more towards the right so it doesn’t hit this corner." 

"You're right or my right?"

"My right."

Topper did as he was told, happy for the free meal that would be provided. Rafe was just happy that this was one of the last things they had to move in.

They placed the couch down underneath the window as Kelce came back in, water bottles in hand. The brunette tossed a water bottle to each of his friends as Rafe grabbed his phone from his pocket. 

"Dominos or Little Caesars?" Rafe asked, looking between his friends.

"Dominos cause I want a sandwich," Kelce stated.

Topper looked at Kelce. "But little Caesars. Besides we had Firehouse Subs for lunch."

"Did I stutter? I want a fucking sandwich to go with my pizza, Topper."

The blonde stared at Kelce before sighing. "Fine. Dominos."

****

You looked into your trunk, trying to figure out if, no not if, how you were going to get everything in one trip when one of your neighbors approached you.

You looked over at her. "Hey, Mrs.Keling. How are you?" You asked, grabbing one of the paper bags.

"Fine Y/N but how are you?" She asked.

Mrs. and Mr. Keling lived across the street and four doors down from you and never really came over and talked to you. It was usually just the usual wave and smile, maybe a hello and a how are you. But that was only if you ran into each other. 

You raised an eyebrow. "Um…fine. Why do you ask?" 

Mrs.Keling glanced at the house next door, the Uhaul still parked there. You followed her glance before commenting. "Wow. They're still not done moving. They've been working since I woke up." 

"Aren't you worried about living next to him?" 

Those words made a chill go down your spine but you ignored it. "Should I be worried?" You set the bag back down in the trunk.

Mrs.Keling sighed. "Do you not know who's next to you?"

You shook your head. You hadn’t caught a glimpse of the mystery neighbor yet. You had noticed, however, many of the neighbors peeking through their windows or standing in their yards as they talked amongst themselves all day.

Mrs.Keling moved in closer and you looked at the middle-aged woman, slightly scared of who she was going to say moved in.

"Rafe Cameron." She whispered before stepping backward.

You felt yourself relax a bit, scared that it was going to be someone horrible.

 Granted Rafe Cameron wasn’t exactly a saint.

His past wasn't the best and his past consisted of terrorizing you and your friends but, from what John B, Pope, Kie, and Sarah had told you and JJ, he's pretty tolerable now. His hotheadedness, which probably was a result of his coke addiction, seemed to have died down immensely and he didn't really pick fights out in public anymore.

This was probably because if he got in trouble with the law for something stupid like speeding, his criminal activity would be uncovered.

Rafe Cameron may have looked like he turned a leaf and became a law-abiding citizen overnight but that’s why you never judge a book by its cover. Because, if anything, he got dirtier. 

People on the Island knew about Rafe’s new family that he got involved with back when he was 20, no thanks to Wheezie and her mouth.

She told one person to leave her friend alone or else her mob brother would take care of him and that’s all it took. However, no one could arrest him for any illegal activity cause, from what they saw, there was none. He was perfectly clean. Not even the scent of weed to cause them to suspect anything. Eventually, Shoupe had decided that everyone was pulling his leg considering Rafe always lets them search the place and no one had ever caught him doing anything that he could be arrested for.

You let it go, deciding that it was a rumor that could die. You were never much for the gossip that took place within the subdivision you lived in, let alone the island.

"Rafe Cameron lives next door now?" You asked, “As in the man who once climbed a tree to help get a child’s kite down?”

Mrs.Keling nodded. "He’s not as good as he seems Y/N and some of us are worried about you. There’s something about him that’s just...off."

You managed to hold back a scoff. Sure, some of them were worried and you knew they were but it was usually the seniors. The others just wanted to fake it to see if they could get some dirt on the others.

You shrugged as you looked into a bag, seeing the pie at the top, remembering that you picked it up for the new neighbor. "I'll be fine. I have a Blue." You reassured her, grabbing the pie.

You walked across the patch of grass separating your house and, what is now apparently, Rafe’s house. You raised a fist and knocked on the door. Looking around, you saw the neighbors staring at you as you stood there. You grinned and waved at everyone before turning back towards the door.

You heard laughter and footsteps before the door opened, revealing Rafe Cameron himself. He stood in the doorway towering over you, giving you a once over.

"I did some grocery shopping today and decided to pick up a welcome pie. It’s probably not that good considering it was in the clearance section but, ya know, as my dad always says "When you have a cheap pie, have a cheap beer with it"." You smiled, extending the pie towards him.

Rafe smiled back, taking the pie from your hands. "Your dads a wise man."

"Indeed, he is." You grinned.

Rafe looked past you and towards the people watching from their yards.

"Do you want to come inside? Have a slice of this pie you bought? It'd be unfair to not share." Rafe offered.

You smiled but shook your head. "Thanks for the offer but I'm going to have to decline. I've got to go get ready for my shift at work and get my groceries inside." You told him, turning to face your neighbors.

You turned back to the man in front of you and leaned in. "Don't mind these guys. They're, sadly, just your stereotypical suburban moms and dads who like to talk shit about others but hate it when others talk shit about them. Except for Bonnie. She's sweet." You said, waving to the old lady across the street who was tending to her roses. "Anyway. See you around, Rafe." You smiled, waving before turning around and heading back to your driveway where Mrs.Keling still stood.

Rafe watched as you exchanged a few more words with Mrs.Keling, no doubt in his mind that it was about him considering the older lady kept glancing his way.

"Well, she's cute." 

Rafe turned around to see Kelce and Topper standing off to the side where they could see outside. Rafe rolled his eyes at his two friends, both of whom wore a smirk, and shoved the pie into Kelces hands.

"You two wait for the pizza." He told them before walking pit the door and to your driveway. He smiled at Mrs. Kelsing who immediately bid you goodbye and scurried off to her home.

You looked at Rafe, a bag in each arm as you waited for him to say something. 

"You brought me a pie. Let me at least help you bring in groceries if you're not gonna have a slice of the pie." 

****

Topper and Kelce watched from the living room window as Rafe grabbed a couple of bags and helped you bring in your groceries.

"Why is he helping her?" 

"Cause that’s what you do when a nice cute girl brings you a pie. You help her with whatever." Kelce answered. 

"And you leave your best friends unattended with the pie? A poor choice really." Topper stated, flipping open the box the dessert was in. 

"A poor choice indeed." Kelce agreed, opening a box labeled kitchen and pulling out a couple of plates and forks.

Kelce served each of them a slice, clinking their forks together before digging in.

****

"Wait. My brother lives next to you now?" Sarah asked as you brought your friends the drinks they ordered.

It was probably 3 hours into your shift when JJ asked if you had met whoever moved in next door. And when you told the group, their jaws hit the floor.

"And he helped you bring in groceries? You sure that’s Rafe?" JJ raised an eyebrow as he immediately brought his bottle of beer to his lips.

You nodded as you tucked the now empty tray under your arm, looking at your watch. 15 minutes left of your shift.

"That’s so weird," Kie stated.

"Is it though? I mean, he has been wanting to have his own place for a while. It doesn’t help that Topper doesn’t pay attention to what name is on the sticky note when it comes to food." Sarah rolled her eyes, remembering all the times she called Rafe for something and heard an argument break out amongst the two boys.

And all she had to say was poor Kelce for having to put up with their bullshit.

"Yeah. I know that feeling." Pope commented, glancing at JJ.

The blonde immediately pointed his finger at Pope. "You don’t write your name on shit. You specifically said that we aren’t going to do the whole this is my food, this is your food." JJ defended himself.

"Uh, no. I never said that. Why would I say that, JJ?" 

"You tell me cause those words came out of your mouth."

"Oh did they? Cause I don’t remember that. In fact, I remember you saying we should put our names on our food so we know what belongs to who but then you broke that rule." Pope glared at his best friend.

"No. I said we should label the to-go boxes from restaurants when we dine in then take our leftovers home so we know what belongs to who."

"Okay. Pipe it down and quit the squawking." You told them, giving both of them a light smack.

"You two fight worse than me and Sarah and you two aren’t even together like that." John B shook his head.

"You don’t know that for sure," JJ smirked, bringing the bottle up once again so he could take a drink.

Pope sighed as the rest of you stood there staring at JJ before you shook your head. "I’m going back to work and in 15 minutes you all better be ready to leave." John B held up the keys to the twinkie and you snatched them from his hand. "And I'm driving."

You had driven to John B’s in your car and parked it there once you heard from Kie that everyone was planning on going out for drinks, opting on being the designated driver. This wasn’t the first time you did this, having them have their night out at the bar you worked at so you could drive them home safely after your shift. It gave them plenty of time to get shit-faced and you were able to make sure no one did something dumb while still being able to work.

It was kind of like Nani and Lilo’s situation of Nani bringing Lilo to work.

The pogues were Lilo and you were Nani.

*****

Rafe took a swig from his beer before setting it down harder than he needed to.

He was currently swearing under his breath as he sat on the floor, attempting to assemble an entertainment center he bought from IKEA as his two best friends sat on the couch, each enjoying another slice of pie as they had a beer themselves.

“I’m telling you, man, you should’ve had them to assemble it for you,” Topper told him.

Rafe rolled his eyes. “I can do it myself thank you very much.”

“You couldn’t do it sober. What makes you think you can do it drunk?” Kelce laughed.

Rafe turned around and sent him a glare. “I will have you know that it’s going to take more than a beer and a half to get me drunk.” He looked down at their plates to see them both halfway done with their pie slices. “Is there going to be any pie left for me?”

“You mean the pie that the cutie pie from next door brought over? There’s a slice left.” Kelce told him.

“And I’m not taking any chances,” Rafe muttered, slamming down the allen wrench and standing up, walking into his kitchen to retrieve that last slice.

He grabbed a fork and the box that the pie rested in, not bothering with a plate, before walking back over to his spot on the floor.

“You know,” Rafe started, using his fork to cut a piece of pie off his slice before letting his fork hover in the air, “you two having been pigging out this whole time, yukking it up and whatnot while I have been doing all this work.” Rafe punctuated his sentence by placing his fork in his mouth.

“Not true. We’ve been providing you moral support.” Topper defended.

“Well if you two aren’t going to provide physical help, then you can walk your asses out the door.”

Topper and Kelce looked at each other before nodding and getting up. “See you later, buddy.”

“Yeah. Oh, btw, Sarah said something about throwing you a little ‘congrats on getting a house’ party at John B’s on Friday since she didn’t want to throw it here and upset your neighbors!”

Rafe opened his mouth to speak but the door shutting cut him off.

"Thanks for helping." He muttered.

He picked up his beer and took another sip, checking his watch as he brought the bottle away from his lips.

12:30 AM.

Rafe sighed as he continued to eat his pie and drink his beer, deciding that once he was finished with his snack he’d head to bed. 

He got up to put his fork in the sink and throw away his garbage when headlights caught his attention.

He looked out the window, confusion on his face. This wasn’t the type of neighborhood where he expected people to go out until midnight. Hell, they didn’t even seem like the people who’d be out until 10.

It made a lot more sense when he saw the car pull into your driveway and you getting out of the car. He watched you walk up to your door and unlock it before walking in, closing the door behind you.

He shook his head before walking away from the window, continuing his way towards the kitchen. He threw everything away and tossed his fork into the sink before shutting off his lights and heading into his bathroom. He brushed his teeth before changing into a sweatshirt and sweatpants, heading into his room, and flopping down onto the mattress that laid on the floor with a groan. He suddenly regretted ordering his new bed frame online and not paying for two-day delivery. 

He let his eyes close, his breathing steady as he worked his way to sleep, letting darkness completely take over in a matter of minutes.

~~~~~

Taglist: @oleariaux @popcrone818 @void-sadie @diverrdown @teenagekook @acvross-the-universe @poguemackin @bibliophilewednesday

#rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #drew starkey #drew obx #jj outer banks #jj obx #jj maybank #rudy pankow #rudy obx #john b routledge #john b outer banks #john b obx #chase stokes #sarah cameron #sarah outer banks #sarah obx #madelyn cline #kiara outer banks #kiara obx #kiara carrera #madison bailey #pope outer banks #pope heyward #pope obx #jonathan daviss #topper thornton #austin north #kelce outer banks #deion smith

[oftenderweapons]

Love Talk - Jimin

Pairing: Jimin x reader (nicknamed Princess)

Wordcount: 6.6k words

Genre: smut, fluff, lowkey angst

Rating: 18+

Hello cuties! 💜 

I’m back with a new piece and this time we have a very soft boy Jimin with a lot of fluff (plus smut, ‘cause we all know I’m a certified slut by now). This is the right moment to remind you that if you’re a minor the content under the cut is not intended for you and you should not read. 

Anyways, quick recap: Jimin and y/n-Princess have been dating for about four months at this point, they are seeing each other exclusively, though they haven’t yet explicitly said ‘I love you’. 

On to TRIGGER WARNINGS: discussion of eating disorders (they are NOT condoned, but rather addressed and gently corrected), alcohol consumption (just mild tipsiness, nothing major). Swearing. Sub!Jimin wants a spanking. Of course he gets one. Very in-depth discussion of BDSM conditions and limits related to a spanking scene. Punishment scene and powerplay. Teeth-rotting fluff. Unprotected vaginal sex (do I need to remind you to use protection whenever you engage in oral, anal or vaginal sex? Well, this is me, kindly reminding you to keep it safe). Woah, these warnings are shorter than usual.  

Wordcount: 6.6K

A small thank you to @nervous-moon​ for the constant love and support (and for listening to me ramble for days about crazy themes and prompts) and another silent thank you goes to an amazing angel who listened to me panicking about this fic not working and putting me back on track.

Here is my masterlist!

And before I let you read in peace, please remember to vote for the next theme :) (link in my bio)! 

Enjoy!

Jimin is a tense bundle of nerves, walking back and forth at the feet of the bed, pacing anxiously before sitting and grabbing his hair, tugging it in exasperation. How could he possibly do this?

It’s not like he could bend over your lap and scream “I won’t stand up until you spank me raw.”

But at the moment he was desperate enough that he was actually considering. He threw himself on the mattress, rolling on his belly and whining loudly, kicking and punching the covers. 

Nuzzling his face into the duvet, he took in the smell of you on the bedsheets, finding small comfort. 

What if he moved your hand on his ass, leading your wrist so your hand smacked on his ass?

He grimaced and shook his head. 

Turning around he stood up and went to the kitchen. It was late. You should be here in ten minutes. Maybe tipsy from your night out with your friends. He spotted the bottle of beer in the fridge. 

A little liquid courage?

He nodded to himself, grabbing the bottle. 

The bottle was empty when he heard the door unlock. A sweet chill ran down his spine as he heard you take off your shoes, silent footsteps heading down the hall, following the light from the kitchen. 

“Hi.” You said, surprised, noticing the bottle on the table. Your mind, already growing suspicious, noticed that there was only one glass on the table. You calmed yourself down. 

“Hello.” He said with a cute blush, puffy cheeks and his sweet smile. “You’re back.”

“And you’re tipsy.” You replied, smiling at him incredulously.

He nodded, lids heavy. 

“Come with me.” You murmured. “Put down that stuff.” You invited him playfully. 

He looked at you with a dreamy look. “Haven’t you drunk?”

“No, Jimin. I was assigned to sober godmother duty tonight.” You huffed out, slightly stressed. 

He cocked his head to the side. “Don’t you want a sip, then?”

You looked at him. Your sober godmother duty wasn’t over, apparently. You were sure of it when you saw him oscillating dangerously on top of the barstool by your kitchen island. “No. I want to undress and get to bed.”

He made a grumpy face, all of his features scrunching up, his lips locked in a pout. He extended his arms towards you, making grabby hands.

You took a few steps towards him, hugging him as he smiled once more as you helped him down the chair. He kept holding you tight, brushing his face all over your neck and the small triangle of skin appearing from your demure top. “What do you want, Jimin?” You asked sweetly, your index tipping his head back so you could look at him. 

He only shook his head, trying to escape from your inspecting gaze. 

You had none of that. “Jimin, love. Do I need to take you to bed?”

He smiled, eyes closed, whining out a long, giggly “yes”.

Keeping an arm around his waist, you started walking to the bedroom, leaving the lights on in the kitchen. You had to go back for the bottle anyway. 

“You didn’t drink that much, baby.” You kissed his temple. “Did you eat?”

His brow creased as he shook his head. 

“Why not, Jimin?” You asked. 

“I wasn’t thinking about it. I had lunch with Yoongi hyung and Taetae. Dinner kind of passed by.” He mumbled.

“That’s not good, Jimin.” You reprimanded lovingly. “Your body needs yummy food. Nutrition.”

“I know. I didn’t do that on purpose, though. I wasn’t hungry. I forgot.” He admitted.

Reaching the bed, you made him sit on the edge. “I’ll go fix the kitchen. Make yourself comfy.”

In the kitchen you put some instant rice in the microwave as you threw away the bottle. Waiting for the rice, you prepared some salad, opening a small jar of kimchi and laying it all out on a tray. 

The microwave dinged and you grabbed the bowl, adding kimchi and sausage slices. Satisfied with the result, you went back to the bedroom. Jimin was laying on the bed, his back straight against the pillows by the bedpost.

“Here,” you offered, laying the tray on the bedside table and sitting beside him, on top of the covers.

“I want you here with me.” He complained, trying to drag you under the sheets. 

“I have my day clothes on.” You justified yourself. 

“Take ‘em off.” He giggled.

You shook your head, snorting. “Stay there, I’ll go get changed.”

A few minutes later you came back, dressed in your soft silk pajamas and a robe. “Time to eat, Jiminie.” You climbed in bed, settling beside him, your legs disappearing under the sheets. Holding the tray, you moved it on your lap while Jimin curled up against your side, arms wrapping around your arm and squeezing it. You took a spoonful of rice and brought it to his lips as he leaned over the tray. 

Opening his mouth wide, he put his soft, plump lips around the spoon, eyes wide, fixed on yours. 

He was teasing you. 

You huffed out a heavy breath. “Jimin.”

“What” He sputtered through his mouthful of food. 

You shook your head. 

“More.” He muttered before opening his mouth wide. “Aaah.” He said, inviting you to feed him.

You huffed out, slightly annoyed, and offered him another bite. “Come on, good boy.” He brushed the side of his face against your arm, his lips curling up in a confident smirk.

You fed him the whole bowl, alternating it with salad leaves, offering him sweet praises and cuddles. “Now, will you explain to me why you are not taking care of yourself, Jimin?”

You gave him a serious stare, your voice concerned but also caring.

“I’m just busy.” He shrugged. “No big deal.” He didn’t look you in the eye. 

“Jimin.”

This time he looked up at you. “What?” He taunted. 

“You’re tense, baby. I see that you’re stressed.” You caressed his hair. “What is it?”

Was this the right moment to tell you? He shook his head. “It’s just work. We’ve been producing more material than usual and it’s taking its toll.”

“Is that why you’re not eating much?” You moved the tray out of the way, taking your arm away from his grip and wrapping it around his shoulders. 

He hid into your chest, nodding.

“Oh, my poor baby.” You cooed, pampering him, brushing up and down his spine with your palm. “Do you want cuddles?” 

He felt spoiled. He felt cared for and loved. He felt like you could understand him. It felt right.

With a wave of courage taking over his body, he slithered out of your embrace and quickly found his way to the bathroom, fumbling with the drawer where he kept the hair dryer.

When he came back, his pace was significantly slower, his footsteps wary and insecure. His whole posture had changed as he hid his head low between his shoulders, his back hunched, his hands holding something to his chest. 

You watched perplexed as he neared the foot of the bed. “I really don’t know how to say this.” He murmured with a little lisp in his words.

You felt like melting on the bed. Ever since your first day you had grown fond both of his tender, delicate side and his flirty, cheeky one. The shift from one to another always kept you on the edge of your seat, never knowing whether you’d be confronted with the sweet, affectionate boy or the forward, bold man. All that you knew was that, since you started dating four months ago, you had started falling for him. And just now Love hit you like a train on a track. 

And he had been falling too. All he needed was the final push, confirming that you would satisfy that tiny whim of his, that recurring fantasy that he never had the courage to bring up since you two started messing around, a couple months ago.

“You can say anything to me, darling.” You reassured him. “Come here, show me what you got there.”

He climbed on the bed, crawling toward you on his knees, hands still plastered to his chest. “Will you promise me you won’t laugh at me?” He whispered. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.” You said, your voice calm and comforting. 

His wide, glimmering eyes met yours and your whole body warmed with understanding and compassion. 

“I would never, ever laugh at you, pretty duckling.” You opened your arms wide and he let his body fall gently into your hug. Now he was curled up against your side, head laying on your chest, leg wrapped around your hips possessively. 

He let the secret object fall on your belly. 

A hairbrush.

Your brow twitched. “Jimin, baby, I need you to explain.” You felt too confused to put two and two together. 

“I— You know that sometimes people feel the need to… Get a little rough?” He searched for your hand, toying with your fingers. He was looking even smaller now, all your protective instincts surging beneath your skin.

“You want to get a little rough?” You asked, still trying to understand the exact implication of that. 

“I want you to get a little rough with me.” He admitted, blushing violently and hiding his face into you. 

“You want me to use the hairbrush on you?” You asked, trying to clarify. 

He nodded into the crook of your neck.   

Well, of course you were a little shocked, but not surprised. Not at all. It was clear that Jimin liked to be pampered and spoiled. He liked praises and cuddles and attention. He liked flirting and he liked when people flirted back. He liked when people decided to one-up his cheekiness, to beat him in brazenness.

And of course he liked partners who could put him back in his place. 

“I need you to sit up, duckling.” You ordered him with honeyed voice. “And I need you to listen to me very carefully.”

He heard the change in attitude and he parted from your chest, looking you in the eye. 

“Sit up, Jiminie.”

He obeyed, bending his legs under his torso, his ass resting on his heels.

“I’ll play it out for you, all you need to say is yes and no.” You assisted him in this laboured confession. It was unusual for Jimin to act shy, and you assumed that you had to treat such vulnerability with tender and loving care, creating a positive association to him confessing his insecurities, through praises and affection, emotionally wrapping him up in a warm blanket, putting him in a pretty bubble that could become a safe environment until he felt strong enough to go back into the real world. 

“You want me to spank you?”

He nodded, hiding his face behind his lovely hands. 

“Look at me, duckling.” You told him quietly, holding his wrists and taking his hands away from his eyes. 

He whined a little but at the end he settled his hands down on his lap and looked at you. 

“I cannot use the hairbrush on you, Jiminie. Because I don’t know how to use it and I could hurt you.” You knew you weren’t ready for it. And it would have been dumb and dangerous of you to ignore your lack of experience and preparation. This is not stuff that should be played with, especially without proper research and training. 

He looked at his lap and nodded, understanding you completely, but still a bit upset at the thought that he needed to postpone this experience with you. Because it wasn’t a no, right? It was a maybe later, right?

You looked at his unhappy expression. You not wanting to use the hairbrush on him didn’t mean that the whole scene was cancelled. Maybe if you set the right terms you could be safe and still make it right for him. “Would it be okay if I used my hands? Get you used to those before we get naughtier?”

He looked up at you, eyes gleaming with surprise and gratitude at your offer. He nodded eagerly. 

“Then that’s it, duckling. We’ll go with my hand. But first we need to talk about this very thoroughly.”

“It’s okay. We can discuss rules and safewords.” He suggested.

You nodded. “That’s right. I need to know what you want me to do, Jimin. I need you to help me make it safe and pleasurable for you.” You felt like you needed his guidance. “I need you to help me, Jimin.”

He noticed you using his name, twice, and the submissive side of him subdued as he annulled the power imbalance and came in your assistance. “We can start from something very easy. I would say we could try a set of ten, but the golden rule of every first scene is to stay hungry and do only half of one of the many many things you want to try. So the best way to do this safely is to limit this to five hits. Can you do five hits, ____?”

You thought about it carefully, not letting yourself be seduced by the thought of Jimin in such a vulnerable position. “I think so. But as I said, guidance is key.”

“It’s okay. I’ll try and lead you, call that a power bottom.” He giggled shyly, trying to brighten the mood. “I’ve been trying to talk about this for a while.” He explained. “I didn’t know how to ask.” He tweaked his fingers in the meanwhile, torturing himself a little. 

“Is that why you’ve been tense lately?” You questioned.

“Yes. I mean, I think I’ve always thought about this since we started dating, but lately it’s a way more recurrent thought.” He explained, shoving his hands under his thighs.

“Okay. Let’s take this as a trial round. We’ll start with five hits. I’ll only use my hands. You can stop me at any moment. And I may decide to interrupt the scene, if I find myself inadequate.” 

He looked you in the eye. “Do you want a safeword for yourself? I mean, technically you’ll be dominating but it is not uncommon for novice dominants to have a safeword they say before they snap out of their role. It can also be a signal that determines the end of the scene.”

You took a pause to mull over it. “Good. Do you have one that you’ve used before or that you’re comfortable with?”

He thought about it, quickly, trying to remember the information he had picked up from various websites. “The most obvious one would be the colour system. Green for good, Yellow to slow down and Red to stop?”

You smiled encouragingly and caressed his face. “Yes, of course. That’s easy.”

“Usually this kind of scene is used for punishment and atonement. I think that you can interrupt it by explicitly saying “you are forgiven”, or any sentence along the lines of that.” He suggested. 

That was smart. Intuitive. 

He looked back at you, holding your face. “I trust you. You’re smart and compassionate. You’re empathetic. I know that you won’t hurt me. I value your common sense and your affection. I know you’ll keep me safe, ____.” The words were almost there. I love you, Princess.

You leaned in his hold, inhaling deeply. 

He continued your briefing. “I’ll help you through it. Five blows sound like a small number, but what’s important is the quality. Take your time after the first one, rub the spot you’ve just hit and the one you’re going to hit next. Sensitise the skin before you hit.” He directed you. “Normally a submissive can speak only when directly addressed to, however it’s our first scene, so if you prefer I can interact with you at any given time.” He explained, comforting you some more. 

“Okay, Jiminie.” 

His eyes crinkled as he smiled at you brightly, giggling slightly.

You huffed out a focused breath. “Let’s recap. Just five spanks, with my hand. If you want me to slow down, you say yellow. If you want me to stop, you say red. You can interact with me as much as you want. Between one spank and the next, I will rub your skin and receive your feedback.” You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to enter our role as a dominant. “I will take care of you, Duckling. Are you okay?” You waited for his confirm.

He nodded, looking at you with such adoration in his eyes that your whole heart melted. 

“Is it okay if I call you duckling, baby?” You asked him. 

He nodded. “Yes, ____. Is there any name you want me to call you?” He asked in return. 

“For now my name is okay, Jiminie. Are you still tipsy, baby? Your consent is important and I cannot play with you unless your consent comes as an extremely lucid decision.”

He nodded. “I am okay. I didn’t drink that much, and I ate too. The alcohol is already gone, I promise.” He wasn’t looking impatient or greedy, both things that would cloud his judgement.

“I am very thankful that you trusted me enough to talk about this with me, and that you trust me enough to let me try this with you. I really can’t wait to explore with you, but I will have to do some research after tonight.” You admitted. The nourishing instincts of a carer had always been natural to you, and his request didn't sound absolutely inadequate or unfeasible. To put it plainly, you were quite interested into becoming more dominant, and learning about BDSM practices didn’t sound bad at all. Especially if Jimin was the one you would be using them with.

He let the thought sink in. "So you would be okay with this becoming a more frequent thing?" He asked. 

More frequent? "Well, for now let's try this tonight. And then we need to learn how to do this in full safety. The best thing to do would be to learn about this first — better safe than sorry — but you said you will help me, and we’re taking this slow, so I can learn as we go. Just a few smacks, to see if you like this. Innocently. You know I wouldn't do this if there were even the smallest chance of me hurting you, right?" You reassured him, thinking of all the things that could possibly go wrong. 

"I know you would never hurt me.” He said, big, pleading eyes set on you. God, I’m such a fool for him._

“Do you want this, Jimin?” You asked very seriously.

He nodded before holding your hand. “Yes, I do.”

“I need you to be really, really sure, Jimin.” You repeated. The more times you asked, the better. He needed to understand that consent is important. For girls such a lesson is somehow engraved in their mind. They grow up learning that “yes” and “no” are very heavy, big words. Boys sometimes tend to forget that. They’ve been subjected to centuries of predator theory, being only subjects of desire, rather than objects of it, forced to actively initiate sexuality and hardly ever taught of being on the receiving end of lascivious intentions. They never had to learn to say yes or no because society never supposed that they would be the ones answering rather than asking. 

“I am really, really sure, ____.” He confirmed, holding both of your hands now. 

Nodding, you bent and kissed him sweetly. “You know I care about you a lot, right?” You whispered on his lips. You felt like the “I love you” was right there, on the tip of your tongue, still you swallowed it, letting only the watered-down taste of affection slip past your lips. 

“I know.” He blushed and kissed you harder. “And I trust you. And I care about you too.”

“Then, would you like to take off your clothes, duckling?” You offered.

He hummed in confirmation, standing up at the foot of the bed and taking off his shirt. 

You stood up next to him, your hand caressing his chiselled abdomen, running upwards, following the thin valley connecting his navel to his jutting breastbone. “Look at my lovely boy.” You whispered at his ear, standing behind him. “He looks so good when he takes care of himself.” You massaged the tense muscles of his shoulders. “When he eats he becomes a strong, healthy boy. So good looking.” Your hands dove into the hair at his nape, tugging it slightly so that his head was thrown back, exposing his sensual neckline and his strong jaw. 

“Can you take off your sweats and underwear, duckling?” You asked, your voice resembling a sickeningly sweet dark poison.

“Yes, ____.” He murmured, undoing the ribbon of his sweats and tugging both them and his briefs to his ankles. As he was bent over in front of you, you held him steady with your hands on his hips, caressing the swell of his ass as he stood back up straight. 

When he felt your hand on the muscle, a shiver ran down your spine, making him exhale and whine quietly. 

“You like it, Jiminie?” You asked kindly. “You like booty rubs?”

He blushed, nodding with small motions. 

“Say it out loud for me, duckling. Let me hear what makes my baby happy. Do you like booty rubs, Jiminie?” You cooed.

“Yes, I like your booty rubs, Princess.” He used your nickname, trying to reconnect with that fond, well-known part of you. He felt vulnerable and reminding himself all the times you’d been a sputtering mess below him, as he teased you with the nickname, brought back slight balance in his mind. 

“Good. Now, you asked to be spanked, Jiminie. Would you like to get in your favoured position, baby?” You let him choose. If it were for you, you would love to see him on his knees and elbows on the bed, but you thought it would be better to let him choose. 

“Do you think I can just lay on the bed on my belly?” He asked, insecure, waiting for you to confirm. 

You thought about it. “As long as it’s not uncomfortable laying on your front when you’re turned on.” You reasoned, thinking about his possibly painful erection. “And you need to be relaxed and comfortable. Can you breathe comfortably like that?” You checked. 

He nodded. “I just need a pillow under my chest.” He informed you, assuming his position. You were still at the foot of the bed, staring at his beautiful backside, taking in the strong lines of his back and spine, the twitching muscles resembling the fluttering feathers of a regal swan. 

“You are a vision, duckling.” You complimented him, and his blush made him hide his face in the comforter. 

“Thank you, ____.”

Miss, that’s what felt right. But that would be for next time. Right now you wanted one task and you wanted to carry it out perfectly. 

“Where do you want me, duckling?” You asked for his directions, still trying to make it sound like you were the one in control, the one making him a favour by asking for his preference. 

“Could you sit on your knees next to my hips, on the bed?” He suggested, his tone so sweet and delicate you felt like you would give him the moon if only he asked.

Following his direction, you sat beside him as instructed. “Here, duckling?” You felt like addressing him with such nickname was helping you separate your boyfriend from the splendid, unfamiliar figure on his bed.

He turned his head slightly, checking your position. “Just make sure that you’re comfortable staying like that, that you can fully control the movement of your arm. You can touch me and check whether the angle feels comfortable for you. You could hurt yourself too if the angle is wrong.”

You nodded, rolling your shoulders in anticipation. After taking a deep breath you let your hands run from the back of his knee to the full, toned muscle of his ass, your nails scratching delicately, in a barely-there motion. 

He hummed out a gentle moan at that, nodding in appreciation. “This is the right moment to locate any vulnerable parts. Careful with bones and nerves: you must not go there. Locate the tailbone. Use your thumbs side by side, down the spine.” He instructed, the briefing identical to the one he used when he massaged Taehyung after tough workouts. 

You followed his directions, finding the delicate spot a couple inches down the seam of his ass. “Here?”

“Exactly. Before you go, place your non-dominant hand on the spot you’ve just found. That will keep you from hitting anywhere dangerous. Identify the soft, fleshy parts — the lower part of the cheek, the upper thigh — there, you can hit without worrying too much.” He was relaxing you through the briefing. You felt already more confident, his calm voice leading you and making you feel like everything would be okay.

With one hand blocking the no-zone, the other one on your target, you started massaging the skin gently, correcting your posture as you went. You found yourself sitting with your thighs perpendicular to him, your palm caressing his butt cheeks, just like he’d told you. “Is it okay?” You asked. 

He turned, looking at you, enjoying how he had to twist and arch his back to see you. Analysing the position quickly he nodded. “That’s good posture, princess. Check that your wrist doesn’t strain. Check if your hand creates a rough angle with your forearm.”

Your wrist kept a neat line. You nodded. “Okay.”

“I trust you, princess.” He reminded you, caressing your calf before tucking his hands under his chest.

You smiled, confidence renewed. Your aim is to take care of your man. That’s all you want. You would do anything for him. And to see him relaxed and sated? Because you gave him what he needs? Yes. Anytime, anyplace. “Are you all set, puppy?”

He released a tight breath. “Yes, ____.”

“Perfect. Do you remember your safewords, duckling?” You asked, making sure that he remembered that he could stop you at any given time.

“I do, ____.” He confirmed, his voice firm but incredibly sweet and slightly high-pitched.

“Okay. I’ll start.” You rubbed his flesh a couple times, then you lifted your hand, aiming for the lower part of his ass, where it curved downwards into his thigh. When your hand was a foot or so away from your target, you stopped, gathering the tension necessary to smack him. Biting your lip, you struck. 

He chirped out a “yes” while your hand stayed on his skin rubbing gently. 

“Are you good, duckling?” You checked. 

“Yes, ____. Yes. That was a perfect thud. Keep rubbing.” He directed. 

Fuck, that was truly a lovely thud: heavy handed, with a nice, rigid wrist, the palm sufficiently cupped to adhere to the skin. 

“Any feedback?” You asked. 

“Not really. Just advice. Hit with your wrist and your elbow, not with your shoulder.” He hummed as your hand stilled and just pressed more firmly against his reddening skin. “That’s good, ____. Keep your elbow tucked into your side. Try again, on the other leg now.” He suggested. 

Adjusting your angle, you mentally repeated the instruction. Elbow tucked in, rub. Check the wrist angle. Check the other hand covering the tailbone. Move your dominant hand away. One foot roughly. Deep breath. Focus. Release. 

The breath Jimin was holding came out as the softest, angelic sound, his head hiding in the sheets, his legs twitching while your hand on the small of his back kept him still. 

Focusing on your task, you didn’t let his sound distract you as you kept your hand pressed into his bum. “You liked that, duckling?”

“Yes.” He giggled, huffing out a quiet whine. “Can you go harder? Just like before but harder?”

You took a deep breath, your palm raising from his skin so it was only the tip of your nails drawing small circles on the blushing imprints on his ass. “I can go harder, duckling. Are you uncomfortable on your lap?” You worried, thinking about how hard he must be by now. 

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, ____.” He reassured you. 

“Perfect. Harder?” You asked, removing your hand, letting some anticipation slip in. 

“Please, ____.” He moaned. 

You knew what you wanted, right in that moment. You could handle just that one more thing. So you asked. 

“Do you think you would enjoy calling me Miss, duckling?” You questioned very carefully. 

He turned towards you. “Are you sure?” He asked, eagerness filling his voice. 

“Yes.” Just like you called him “duckling”, you wanted your identity as his girlfriend the be partitioned from what you were doing right now. “What do you say to this, duckling?” Use that name for me.

“Thank you, Miss.”

Satisfied with his reply, you let your forearm swing and hit. You slightly reprimanded yourself for your shoulder slightly accompanying the motion, but how could you feel sorry when Jimin moaned like that?

The movement felt more familiar now, your arm getting used to measures and intensity. 

You rested your palm for a few seconds. “What do you say, duckling?”

“Thank you, Miss.” He cried out deliciously, voice dripping in pleasure.

“That’s a good boy.” You cooed. “Ready for the next?”

“Yes, Miss.” He replied quickly. 

“There we go, duckling.” You said. This time you carefully took initiative. Elbow a foot from your side, you rubbed your target. Check the wrist angle. Check the other hand covering the tailbone. Move the hand away, this time a foot and a half. Deep breath. Focus. Release. You let your forearm swing back a little, gaining momentum, before lashing forward, hitting him with a last minute flick of the wrist, curving the swipe upward. 

“Oh, Miss, thank you.” He squealed, his hips thrusting against the bed. 

“You’re welcome, duckling. You liked it more or less than before?”

“More, Miss.” He chirped enthusiastically.

“It’s the last one, duckling. You want me to give you another like the one I just gave you?” You asked, glad that he was enjoying the scene.

“Please, another stinging one, Miss.” He pleaded.

“Here it comes, duckling.” You took a few more seconds, feeling more comfortable, prepping just like you did before. Big breath. Swing back and… smack.

“Thank you, Miss.” He breathed out.

“Are you okay, duckling?” You asked, massaging him before bending down to kiss his reddened skin. You kissed both his reddened glutes, your other hand caressing his spine now that the spanking was over. Raising up, you kept stroking his back until you reached his head, moving his hair off his face, inviting him to look you in the eye. 

As soon as he established eye contact, you gave him your agreed cue. “You are forgiven, Jimin.”

His lips parted gently, his eyebrows arching and knitting together, his soft features expressing confusion. “Is it over already?” He asked. 

“Yes, baby.” You comforted him. “Five hits. One set. Just like we had agreed.” You reminded him. 

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “Okay.”

“How are you feeling?” You asked, even though you had just checked in. 

He looked at you as you sat on your hip, moving closer to his face, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“I’m very glad I did this with you.” He whispered.

You kissed his lips. “I am glad you asked, baby.”

He slowly brought his arms out from below himself, letting the one on your side fall heavily on top of your body. “Can we make love now?” He asked with the most tender, vulnerable voice you had ever heard from him. 

You felt like crying. Because of his request, of his word choice, of the gentleness of his voice. 

“Yes, if you want to.” You murmured intimately. “Let me undress.”

He let go of you and turned on his side to look at you standing by the bed, removing your clothes in an absolutely ordinary fashion. The room was basking in the yellowy soft light coming from the bedside table, turning your skin a mild golden shade. 

“You look so pretty.” he whispered, completely enchanted by you. 

Smiling shyly, you let your panties fall to the floor, climbing on the bed. “Thank you.” You whispered. 

You were laying side by side, naked, looking in each other’s eyes, no embarrassment between you. It felt right. 

“I love you.” He whispered, his arm coming around your waist. 

It was your turn to stare at him with your mouth agape. 

“You don’t have to say it back.” He said, at the same time as you told him: “I love you too.”

He giggled, eyes disappearing, lips stretching in a fond smile. 

He rolled on top of you. “Say it again.” He ordered sweetly.

“I love you too.” You murmured, chuckling. 

“I love you too.” He said right back, leaving playful, messy smooches all over your face. You laughed even more, basking in the warmth of this moment, in the domestic surety that it will be forever saved in your memory, with its colour, sound, scent, and feeling. That such tenderness would always be associated with Jimin’s smiling face hovering over you. 

He used his knees and one elbow to sustain his weight as his palm reached to cup your cheek, thumb pressed on your lip. “I love you a lot, princess.”

Your eyes closed as you smiled at him. “I want you, Jimin.” You said, opening your eyes and biting your lip. 

“Want me to grab a condom?” He asked, always considerate. 

You thought about it quickly. You were both tested and clean, you were monogamous and you were in a committed relationship. You loved him and trusted him. And he loved you and trusted you too. What could possibly hold you back at this point?

“We can do it without, if it’s okay with you. You know I’m on the pill.” You stated.

“Are you sure?” He waited for you to confirm. 

Nodding, you moved your hand into his hair, bringing his face closer to yours so you could finally kiss him a you wanted to. 

You immediately took his plump lower lip in your mouth, sucking on it as he growled, letting you do what you wanted with him, too lost in you to do anything but follow your lead. Your hand moved down his abs, landing on his hard length. 

He drew back from your mouth, kissing your jaw, moving to your ear. 

“Touch yourself, princess. I don’t know how long I’ll last bare inside you.” He explained, his mind set on making you cum around him before he lost his cool. 

You obeyed, fingers finding your clit as he slid a bit lower down your body, so that his mouth was at level with your breasts. Sucking your nipple in his mouth, he focused his eyes on the expression on your face, bliss making your features flutter. As his mouth moved to the other nipple, you thrust your hips upward, into him. 

“Are you ready, princess?” He asked, moving towards your face, looking at you intently. 

You nodded, moaning. “Please.”

Propping himself on his elbow, he used his free arm to stroke himself a couple times, dragging the tip against your slit to make the access more slippery. “Ready, princess?” He asked. As you nodded he reminded you once more: “I love you.”

“I love you.” You replied as he slipped in. 

It wasn’t easy. But it was not difficult either. It was different. He felt warm. Warmer than usual. And slippery. Everything felt wetter. Maybe because you were.

“Hell, princess, I can fell everything.” He growled. “So damn good, baby.”

You grunted quietly, panting, trying to adjust to him. One of your hand stayed on your clit, drawing small circles on it in hope that the stimulation would help you relax and stretch for him; your other palm moved to his waist, caressing his spine. 

“Can I?” He asked, grunting himself as he tried to keep still. 

“Just another second, love.” You murmured, closing your eyes and taking a big breath. 

He bent down and kissed your cheek. “I should have prepped you.” He whispered. 

“It’s fine.” You reassured him. As his small gestures of affection calmed you down, you felt ready for him to move. Pushing your hips away from him, you started grinding on him, letting him slip out only for an inch before taking him inside you again. 

“Dammit baby.” He murmured. “So tight.”

You kissed his furrowed brow, eyes shut tight in concentration. He tried to open them to look at you, dropping his head to kiss your mouth, your chin, the crook of your neck. “You’re perfect, baby. I love you so much.” He repeated once more and you knew, right in that moment, that he would never get tired of telling you. 

“Jimin, faster, please.” You begged. 

He growled and smashed his hips against yours. “Baby, I need you to...” Still supporting his weight with one arm, he used the other one to bring your hand from his waist to his ass, where you knew his skin was still stinging with your spanks. You felt the skin grow hotter there, probably because it was red and tender. “Grab it, princess. Use it.”

He looked you in the eye with scorching intensity before his mouth dipped to your breast while his fingers unlatched from your wrist and landed on you breast, his digits tweaking your nipple. 

His pace got incredibly faster, encouraged by your hand leading him, setting the pace and manhandling his sensitised skin. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin drowned your laboured pants. The hand on your clit stopped just as you threw your head back with a silent scream, your climax surprising you, and Jimin too, your tight grip on his cock becoming even tighter. He completely lost his pace, hammering furiously inside you until relief washed over him, his orgasm filling you so deep you felt your bones melt at how hot he was inside you. 

“I love you.” You murmured for the millionth time as he collapsed over you. 

“I love you too.”

⁂⫷ ⁛ ⫸ ⁂ ⫷ ⁛ ⫸ ⁂ ⫷ ⁛ ⫸ ⁂ ⫷ ⁛ ⫸ ⁂ ⫷ ⁛ ⫸ ⁂

I left the book in Jimin’s office. Joon let me in. I left you some notes in it, including other useful resources. We can talk about it anytime. 

It was a text from an old highschool friend of yours, who apparently had been dating Namjoon for a while now. You had met maybe a bunch of times during group celebrations, small dinners, birthday parties. It didn’t take long before you got acquainted again, going for coffee dates, hanging out together, especially when the guys were busy — you also found out that your university flatmate and her knew each other, which really seemed a strange twist of fate. Your first reaction the day after your steamy night with Jimin was to text her. You knew it would be absurd and possibly uncomfortable or embarrassing, but it’s not like you were unused to gossiping about your sex lives: your partners too famous for the two of you to confess anything to anyone else. It was a strange friendship, but somehow, among all that madness you both found solace and companionship with each other. So, when you texted her, you somehow expected her to help you, however, her reply surprised you. 

It’s okay, I’ve got something for you. But we better call Lace too. She’s the best.

It took you a few days to read the book. As soon as you were done reading the guide, you texted both Lace and Vixen. 

Dinner at mine this Friday?

And that’s how you found one trained brat, one certified rope bunny and a BDSM guide in front of you, at the dinner table of your apartment. 

“Where do you want to start, sweetheart?” Said Vixen. 

“This is gonna be so fun!” Chimed in Lace.

Thank God there was wine in the fridge and a long night before you.

#bts smut #bangtan smut #jimin x reader smut #park jimin #jimin one shot #jimin scenario #jimin imagine #jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #bangtan sonyeondan #jimin reaction #sub!jimin

[67impalaandwhisky]

Destiny Is Heaven Sent

Summary: Knowing Dean Winchester since you were fifteen, you’ve always been pulled in his direction. Always wanting to open up the rattled and broken cage your heart lives in. But when the child you’ve been raising together dies, you find yourself closing up the cage of your heart again. And if destiny has one thing for you, it’s to break you down before bringing you back up.

Characters: Dean x You, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, OFC’s, OMC’s, (Ongoing) 

This Series Is Set Through Seasons 1-6 With Knowledge That The Bunker Exists

Rating: 18+

Warnings (Ongoing and Will Be Updated): Grieving, Mentions of Rape and Defilement (As Per A Case), Show Level Violence, Swearing, Smut, Impreg Kink, Blood, Fighting, Drinking, Dean Being Dean, Fluff, Angst, Dom!Dean, Sub!Reader

Warnings For This Chapter: Grieving Over Dead OMC, Drinking, Swearing, Flirting

A/N: This is my first Supernatural fic ever! I’ve been writing for a while and have adored Supernatural since the beginning so I’m really excited for this series and I hope everyone enjoys it! 

Chapter 1.

Autumn used to be a season that you adored when you were little. It was the fresh chill of the air and the taste of possibility that clung to the wind. Now you can't help but find it mindlessly awful.

You used to love Halloween and all of the holidays that accompanied soon after. It brought you and your family together. Until your mother died. Then it was just a teeth gritting ride of vengeance by your father, who had loved his wife since he was a teenager.

He did his research, something that you would find harrowing if you didn't grow up in this life. He spent your entire life dragging you around, preparing you to fight against monsters and magic. 

Your father had discovered what had killed your mother when you were fifteen on Christmas Eve. He had left you at the Right Swing Motel to kill the monster on one of your favorite holidays.

You weren't mad then and you still weren't mad now. You couldn't imagine loving someone so much that you were overcome with anguish and the need for revenge. 

When he finally came back to the motel two days later, you had expected him to be relieved. He killed the werewolf that ripped your mother's heart out. You expected him to be your father again. But alas, he seemed angrier and more prone to violence then you could ever imagine.

When he finally died on a job that could never be done alone, you realized just how fucked in the head he had become. Just how overwhelming grief could make you and you swore to yourself that you would never become like him.

Even if that meant setting your emotions aside every time.

Pulling up to the old diner on Route 30, your eyes lazily drift over the parking lot. Spotting the 67' Impala you've grown to know since you were a teenager, you park your car beside it before blowing a bubble in your gum.

You watch the bubble expand and expand before sucking all the air out of it as you step out of your car. Slamming the door shut, your combat boots slap the concrete as you enter the diner.

Taking off your sunglasses, you walk past the waitress as she welcomes you. You give her a brief smile before spotting the men you've grown up with.

Without a word you walk towards them, watching as Dean devours the cheeseburger in hand like he has never eaten a damn thing in his life. Grimacing, you plop yourself down in the booth earning both of their eyes as they slowly drift up from their plates.

"Oh Jesus!" Sam yells, putting his hand over his heart.

"Am I that hideous? My God." You mumble as you grab a french fry off Dean's plate. 

He smacks your hand multiple times earning pink splotches as you slap his hand back.

"Order your own food, Y/N. I'm a growing boy. Gotta eat." He complains as you rest your elbow on the greasy table surface.

"Can I get you anything?" The waitress asks as she approaches. 

"She wants a philly cheese steak, extra onions. No mushrooms or peppers. And, a strawberry milkshake." Dean says as he wipes some crumbs out of the stubble on his chin.

You hum impressed to him before throwing your legs over Sam's lap. 

He's been used to it by now, earning the title as your best friend quite quickly since you were fifteen. His hand wraps around your thigh high combat boots before ignoring Dean's gaze and continuing to eat his salad. 

You steal a cucumber off his plate before looking at his older brother. His eyes were on yours, forest green irises looking over your body intently before looking back down at his food.

"Job?" You ask as Sam holds up the local newspaper he was reading before you arrived.

"Nothing we can't handle. Why don't you go back to the bunker and just relax, hmm?" Dean offers sweetly and you scowl at his suggestion.

"What's with this whole macho man show you've been putting on lately? It's so infuriating, Jesus. I've saved your life so many times and now suddenly I'm a frail crone that has to be a housewife to her two best friends as they go out and fight demons and monsters?" You ask, raising your eyebrows.

He cringes at your words before setting his burger as if it made him feel sickly.

"This job is dangerous." The oldest mumbles and you find yourself suddenly aggravated. When has Dean Winchester ever made you back down from a hunt? When has he ever begged you not to come instead of joining them? 

The answer is never.

"This ghost seems to abduct beautiful, single women and do things to them. I don't want you at risk." You look over to Sam as his brother speaks and you notice how he avoids eye contact with you. 

Your plate of food is set down in front of you and you thank the girl quietly as the tension in the air thickens. Dean Winchester in his whole life has never called you beautiful. He's never even given you the time of day. Which you don't mind really, that's how he's always been. But he's never kept you away from a hunt and you're wholeheartedly offended.

"Then I'll be perfect bait." You reply. 

"I said no." Dean says through gritted teeth.

Sam squeezes your leg gently as if to beg you to not start a fight in a random diner off the highway. 

"I don't give a fuck about what you say Dean Abel." He coughs awkwardly at the middle name you bestowed on him since you were younger. 

You never use it unless you mean business. 

"Y/N. I'm just looking out for you. Jesus Christ." He whispers. 

Folding your arms, you look over at Sam expectantly. You know he hates to be involved in your spats with Dean.

You're both hard headed beasts that don't quit until you get what you want.

"I mean...When has Y/N ever backed down from a fight? When has she ever been anything but safe with us?" Sam says, still avoiding eye contact with his brother.

If looks could kill, Sam would be dead against the window of the diner.

"Thank you Sammy." You say happily before sipping your milkshake. 

Dean makes an angry grunt before leaning back in the booth and throwing a balled up napkin onto his plate.

"What's so wrong with me wanting you safe? Is it a fucking sin?" He asks bitterly as you take a bite of your sandwich.

You look up at him again, watching as he swallowed thickly.

What's his fucking damage today? 

"In your life you've never kept me away from a hunt. In your entire life. I've been attacked by ghosts. Bitten by vampires. Abducted by djinns and you've never batted an eye. Now when there's an abducting ghost you suddenly assume the role of protector?" You ask pointedly, your index finger pressing into his chest across the table.

Dean sniffs before pulling out his wallet and throwing cash onto the table. His large hand runs over his face before he's shoving his hands in his pockets. 

"You're not going. End of story. I am not losing another person." He mumbles before walking out of the diner and leaning on the hood of Baby.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" You ask his brother loudly.

Sam shoves a fork full of salad into his mouth as he plays with the laces of your combat boots. He seems to be distracting himself so he doesn't have to look at you.

"He's been this way for weeks. He's...I mean he's worried about you. We only just burned Marsh a few weeks ago and he doesn't seem to think you're ready to go back out." Sam says before looking over at you. 

You begin to smile, a feral nasty smirk spreading onto your face. Gripping your legs harder, he widens his eyes at you begging you to stop.

"Let go, Samuel Cain." You seethe through your teeth and he sighs loudly before finally going slack against the leather of your boots.

Jumping out of the booth, you fix your leather jacket. 

It takes a few large steps before you're barreling out the diner door straight towards the boy you've watched become a man.

"You son of a bitch." You curse as you advance on him. 

His head turns to you slowly and his jaw clenches. 

At one time when you were sixteen, you'd find it absolutely hot but now it just sets fire into your veins at a quicker pace.

"Y/N…" His voice is weak as he holds his hands up.

Opening up your hand, you stiffen your arm before jabbing your palm underneath his chin.

With a groan he slides off the hood of his car.

"Come on!" He yells angrily before standing up and opening his mouth before spitting out a drop of blood or two.

"How dare you decide what I need to do! How dare you for one second think that I need to be told to sit one out!" You yell as you grip his jacket. 

Hauling him up, he puts his hands on your shoulders.

"I'm just looking out for you, goddammit! You're not okay, and you won't talk to me! You look through me! I'm trying to protect you! You mean something to me! Fuck!" He yells as he shakes you about.

"Yeah?! Well I don't need your fucki-" You begin to scream before being cut off.

"Guys. They called the cops. We gotta go." Sam says before ripping the door open to the Impala.

Dean lets go of you before huffing out and smacking the hood of his car loudly. 

"This isn't over you asshole." You mutter, jutting your finger to your best friend as you put on your sunglasses.

"Why am I not surprised?" He seethes as you open the door to your car.

It's incredibly insulting. Unbelievably unfathomable. In all your life, Dean Winchester has never thought you were weak. 

These weeks without Marsh haven't been easy but that doesn't mean you're lost. Doesn't mean you haven't given up sight of who you are and how things need to be. He wouldn't want that.

"Hello Y/N." The deep monotone voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you jump slightly at the man now sitting beside you in the passenger's seat.

"God! Cas, what did I tell you?!" You yell, slamming your hand onto the steering wheel.

"To never appear in your car like this." He states matter-of-factly.

Rolling your eyes, you begin to focus back on the road watching as Dean speeds down the highway.

"What? What do you want?" You ask the angel as you lower the music.

"Well. I don't want you to fight with Dean." He says as he stares ahead at the road.

You give a short laugh before clicking your tongue and tilting your head.

"Sorry Cassy, all me and Dean do is fight." You mutter as you open the window. 

"It's okay to not be okay, Y/N. I have been watching you, seeing your inner struggle. I know it's hard without Mar-" 

"First of all, don't watch over me. I don't need you to. Secondly, you don't know anything about how I feel. He was just a kid, Cas. He was fourteen years old for God sake." 

He stays silent as you drive down the road. 

"He's happy where he is. He isn't in Hell." Cas says and you laugh to yourself before biting your bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

You've been there through it all, through the angels and the demons. Through the ghouls and the werewolves. Heaven and Hell were so far off your list of things to think about, just the notion bleeds your very soul. 

"Doesn't mean Dean can try to keep me away from what I need most." You tell the angel as the Impala in front of you turns into the parking lot of a motel.

"And what is that?" He asks as you park beside them.

You open your mouth to answer before shutting off the engine of your car and turning your body to him. He looks upon you blankly as you run your fingers through your hair.

"Can't you see what I need without asking?" You ask quietly. 

He sighs before nodding, "Yes. I see." 

Exiting your car, you don't even look at the oldest as you grab your bag from the back seat. 

"Room?" You call out before opening your trunk and grabbing your duffel bag filled with the usual gun paraphernalia. 

"Seven." Sam says and you don't miss the irony of it. 

Luck could go shove it.

You push past Dean as he holds his hand out for your bags and you hear him curse under his breath.

"Come on." Dean says as he jogs beside you. 

You hold your hand out for the key and it's immediately placed in your hand by the younger brother.

"I'm gonna go for a walk." Sam mutters out.

"Be careful." You and Dean say at the same time. You crack your neck loudly before pushing open the door and dropping your bag onto the small table the cheap motel room offers.

Closing the door behind him, you can hear Dean sigh loudly. 

Fighting was always fun with him in years passed. It was always an adrenaline rush. But, these days you're so far past it. You just want to do your job, have a drink and that's it.

"You can't just shut me out." Dean says, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

"Yeah? Watch me." You retort as you begin to make lines of salt on the window. 

"Y/N. I mean it. This has fucked you up entirely. I know what it's like to bottle things away until you're overflowing. I know that pain you're hiding. Just talk to me." 

"No!" You bark out before you feel arms wrap around you.

You can smell him. The smell is something akin to home. He smells of whisky and musk. Old leather that is worn and creasing. He smells of gunpowder and mint. 

"Get the fuck off me." You seethe, writhing in his grasp as it tightens.

"I know you. I know you so well- Hell, I practically am you. Don't you dare think it's okay to keep it to yourself. You're strong? Yeah well, sometimes dams break too." You set the bottle of salt down on the table before turning towards him.

His evergreen irises, staring deep into yours. His small freckles that you've counted a number of times since you were fifteen. His gentle stubble, a sign that he's been taking care of himself. 

His thumbs run over the leather of your jacket but you can practically feel the calloused skin on yours.

"If I talk about it, it makes it real. I just want to work. I want to shoot things and save people." You say before ripping your eyes away from him to the gold necklace he adorns.

"This is real, Y/N. A kid that we called our own is gone. His mother. His father. His uncle. Are all without him now." Just those words send you hurtling yourself towards him. 

Breaking free from his grasp, he lets you punch him in the chest. He lets you take your anger out on him. Because he's Dean and he's always here to drink in your sorrow whenever it comes around. Because, in order to be truly emotionless you have to give them away to someone else.

"He was just a kid! He was just a little boy!" You yell as you punch the older man in the jaw. His body makes contact with the floor as your screams become intelligible.

With a groan he pulls himself up before standing still. Your hard punches slowly turn soft and then you're beating on his chest. 

Letting out a shaky breath, he pulls you close to him. You let out a sob, a small garbled noise, into his grey t-shirt. Feeling the cotton absorb your tears as your eyes burn.

"He was a baby. We should have just left him at the orphanage like Bobby told us. We sh-shouldn't have taken him with us." You cry out.

You let the sorrow eat at you for a second. Let your mind wrap around your emotions before closing yourself off once more. Something you're getting almost too good at.

You shove the handsome man away from you before wiping at your face and turning away from him.

"Y/N. He wanted to come with us. We couldn't leave him to the system after everything he had seen. He wanted to grow up and be a hunter. He wanted us. And we wanted him." Dean whispers, you can hear the crack in his voice. The strain of his vocal cords from weary emotion.

"Yeah well, we fucking failed him. We should have never taken him with us."

"He loved you, Y/N. You raised him. You were his mother for years when he didn't have one himself. You made him into a strong boy." He tells you.

You look down at the woven bracelet Marsh had bought you for mother's day with Dean's money and your jaw clenches with grief.

But, Dean was his father too. And, you know it's taken a toll on him as well. You can't be so selfish. 

"He loved you too. You were the father he needed and always wanted. I'm sorry." You say finally before looking out the window at both of your cars as they sit side by side like always.

"Me too. I'm-I'm sorry." He mumbles.

You know that's big for him. Even if he is ever sorrowful getting those two words out is like hot searing pain to him but he at least tries with you.

"We good?" You ask him as you turn back around.

You find him still staring, still drinking you in even with your back turned and your stomach coils like when you were a teenager. 

"Yeah. Yeah, we're good." He says finally before opening his arms. 

You almost take that welcoming before snorting and grabbing the discarded salt on the table.

"Nice try." You mumble before putting salt in front of the door.

"It's not a sin to hug someone." He whispers before grabbing your gun bag and throwing it on his bed.

No but it's a sin to hug him.

"So what's the job?" You ask aloud as you all sit in the dive bar.

Sam holds up the newspaper before sliding it across the table. 

"Annalise Greenlee. An aspiring model, murdered and raped in her apartment. Police say there was no forced entry, all doors and windows were locked. Now, get this-- her body from her kidneys and above were mush. Exploded inside her body while she was dying." Sam says earning widened eyes from you.

"Must be one pretty pissed off bitch." You reply before taking a long sip of your whisky and coke.

Dean seems to have meant it when he said you were both okay because his attention has now left you and worrying about you. He's more worried about who he'll be sheathing his cock in tonight. 

Typical.

"Y/N. Go tell that girl that we're producers for a reality t.v. show." Dean says elbowing you and nodding to a pretty petite brunette that leans against the bar.

You sigh almost a little too loudly.

"Hey! Pretty girl!" You call over to her. 

Her head turns and you want to roll your eyes at her confidence. As if she was the only pretty girl in the bar.

Sauntering over, you watch her overly eager hips sway. Her index finger twirling her hair seductively as she approaches.

"My friend here wants to buy you a drink. You okay with that?" I ask her as she looks over at Dean.

Her pupils widen and her tongue slowly licks at her lips before smiling.

"Sure. That sounds great. I'm Olive." She says leaning against the booth. Her breasts thrust upwards in the air as her low cut tank top is pulled lower and you can hear the audible growl your best friend gives.

"Just call me Popeye." Dean says before shoving you out of the way and climbing over you to get out of the booth.

You stare at Sam unimpressed and he covers his face as he begins to smile. 

"See you two later hmm?" He asks.

Kissing the top of your head quickly, you roll your eyes before turning the small black straw in your mixed drink. 

Seems like he's forgotten every reason to be upset when he can be knee deep in pussytown.

Fingering at the small woven bracelet, you let out a small, unamused laugh before finishing the contents of your drink.

"You okay?" Sam asks quietly as you pick up the newspaper.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You bite back, angrier than you mean to.

"It's not fair of him to do that." He replies kindly and you put your fist under your chin before skimming over the bar.

"The word fair and the word Dean do not go hand in hand. Come on, let's go play pool. I could do with beating your ass in something today." You say before standing up.

It's almost too easy for Dean to unlock the recesses of your heart but it's almost too painfully easy to lock yourself back up.

#dean winchester #dean x you #dean x reader #spn #supernatural #spn family #smut #dean winchester smut #destiny is heaven sent #series #book #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic

[lovelylogans]

I’d like to request “There was never an us.” for Moxiety, because I never see betrayal-type angst with that ship

hell’s kitchen

“after a good dinner one can forgive anybody.”—oscar wilde, a woman of no importance

ao3 | other fics on tumblr | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, spice mentions, bickering-type arguing, mostly fluff but please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairings: moxiety, not mentioned logince

words: 1,437

notes: ohhhhh my god. oHHHH my god. okay look when you say “betrayal-type angst” my brain just went NOPE and as such uhhhh here’s this. takes place after “cohabit” in the wyliwf verse. thank to @teacupfulofstarshine for the “funny names will not save you” line, and also the title!

one of the best parts of living with virgil—other than falling asleep in his arms every night or pressing himself up against virgil’s back, or waking up snuggling him just about every morning, or, like, cuddling on the couch during movie nights, or, like, everything, everything about it—is the fact that he gets to eat virgil-made food all the time.

it. is. fantastic.

he has, of course, offered to help in the ways he can, and pointed out that virgil doesn’t have to cook all the time but virgil always waves him off, pointing out that it’s something he loves to do, and cooking for logan and patton means that he gets to branch out from the usual menu at his diner, which means that patton gets to eat a lot of things he’s basically never heard of before but is now an ardent fan of, like scaccia for dinner and ossetian khachapuri for breakfast.

and if he doesn’t feel like it, it means that patton can sub in with his (admittedly much more basic) cooking, like spaghetti or pizza. sometimes, logan cooks, mostly in preparation for college and eventually living on his own, and that’s always fun to watch virgil guide logan through some basic recipes, and if none of them are up to cooking, they’ll order out (usually from al’s pancake world or anywhere but virgil’s, since virgil admits he’s kind of sick of eating his own diner food.)

doing more dishes in exchange for really good food is a more-than-fair trade, in patton’s mind. there are sometimes misses, like when virgil makes ema datshi and the three of them go red in the face from the sheer amount of spice, drinking nearly a gallon of milk between all of them in an effort to kill the fire in their mouths, but those are few and far between. 

so when he comes downstairs to virgil dishing up a bowl of mac and cheese for dinner one night, saying that he’s trying out a new recipe, it’s not suspicious, necessarily, but it is a little tame. patton guesses he’s left the middle-eastern food kick he’s been on for the past couple weeks and wanted to do something relatively low-effort; he has kind of been doing a food world tour for quite a while.

but patton smiles up at him, and kisses him on the cheek, and thanks him for dinner, and then goes to call logan down for dinner, because he’s locked himself up in his room to do intensive research for a story for the franklin. 

by the time logan’s come down, virgil’s setting out bowls of some kind of salad, which like, fine, patton guesses, because one of the other drawbacks (or benefits, his doctor and virgil would probably say benefits) meant that virgil got to serve them a lot more healthy side dishes or main courses than he would have had to in the diner, since they aren’t ordering and paying for their dinner.

“hey, kid,” virgil says. “research going okay?”

logan takes a deep breath, which makes patton tamp down his grin. oh, that means they’re in for a lecture.

(logan is a fantastic journalist, and he’s going to do great things out there in the world, but patton thinks that maybe, after he wins fifty thousand pulitzers and maybe a nobel prize, logan would make a great teacher. or at least, in the midst of winning fifty thousand pulitzers, patton hopes that he’ll do some guest lectures at a university, or something, telling all the future bright-eyed journalists about his own adventures and how to best chase a story.)

so logan speaks about the various rabbit holes his research has led him down between bites of mac and cheese and salad and sips of water, fielding questions from virgil and patton, at one point getting up and grabbing a notepad to jot down some kind of idea that patton’s question sparked in his head.

logan talks about his day, too, even if it is mostly in the realm of talking about what happened in his franklin class, and virgil talks about his day too (”taylor,” he growls, “is up to something” which makes logan’s ears perk up and jot it down on the notepad, because the pair of them are… well, he would say menaces, if taylor wasn’t so taylor, not that he’d ever say that out loud.) and so does patton, even if his day was mostly dull—really, the most exciting thing was an update on pau-pau, one of michel’s precious dogs.

but it’s a good family dinner. it’s a nice family dinner, the three of them talking and laughing occasionally. it’s good company, good food, and patton is happy.

at the end of dinner, logan goes back to his room basically as soon as he can, frowning down at his notepad and jotting down more notes even as he’s going up the stairs, and patton laughs a little after him, shaking his head.

“workaholic,” patton says affectionately. 

“well, he didn’t actively start researching during dinner, that’s an improvement over last week,” virgil suggests, and patton snorts, shaking his head, before he retreats back into the kitchen and goes to gather up the bowls.

“dinner was really good,” patton says brightly. “the mac and cheese tasted different, but that’s probably ‘cause it’s not kraft.”

“oh, good,” virgil says, and hands over the cup that patton’s reaching for, before patton even asks. “it’s a new recipe, i was hoping you two would like it.”

patton tilts the empty bowls so that virgil can see, before he moves to start rinsing out dishes to stick them in the dishwasher. “well, it was a big hit.”

“good,” virgil repeats. “i’m glad—um, i used milk, salt and pepper, yellow onion—”

patton hums, to show off interest; virgil likes to talk what goes into each recipe, if patton’s not in the room while he’s cooking. mostly because virgil likes to know what’s in everything he’s eating, but hey, it’s interesting enough to patton too, because virgil’s passionate about cooking.

“—vegetable broth—”

“vegetable broth?” patton repeats, because he thinks that the water rushing over the dishes is distorting his hearing.

“uh-huh,” virgil says. “um, gruyere, parsley on top, zoodlesandbutternutsquash—”

patton shuts off the water and turns to face him.

“what was that last part?”

virgil looks abruptly sheepish.

“…zucchini noodles and butternut squash,” he says.

patton gapes at him.

“i mean, you liked it,” virgil points out, fumbling over his words. “so now whenever i serve it, i know you can’t use the excuse of not having liked it—”

“you,” patton says, “snuck me a healthy dinner. in mac and cheese.”

“you liked it!” virgil says defensively.

“you betrayed me. in my own house!” patton declares, mostly joking but also a little affronted.

“our own house,” virgil says, and patton’s lips twitch up, because virgil’s using his sentimentality against him, that jerk who cares deeply for patton’s health!!!!

“there was never an us,” patton says dramatically. 

“they’re zoodles!”

“a funny name won’t save you now,” patton says, haughty. “this settles it.”

“settles what?” virgil says.

“i will accept,” patton says, “ice cream from lucy’s as a gesture of apology.”

virgil throws back his head, laughing, and patton traces the long column of his throat with his eyes. virgil reaches over to swat patton with a dish towel. “i thought you were actually mad!”

“not mad,” patton says. “annoyed, maybe, and just a little. it’s mac and cheese, virgil, you already had a side salad!”

“eating healthy isn’t gonna kill you,” virgil says. “the opposite, really.”

“you’re impossible,” patton says, which would probably be more convincing if he wasn’t smiling.

virgil grins back, leaning down to press a kiss to patton’s upturned lips. “i love you very much.”

“impossible,” patton sighs up at him. “how am i supposed to be annoyed at you for being thoughtful about my vitamin intake and taking an active concern in my health because you generally care for my welfare, and you’re so cute at the same time?”

“it’s a talent,” virgil says smugly, and patton snorts a little, before thwacking him with the same dish towel.

“go,” he says, a laugh still around the edges of his voice. “i have chores to do.”

“if you say so,” virgil says, disappearing around the corner, and patton hesitates before he turns, just a little.

“i wasn’t kidding about the lucy’s!” patton calls after him, still smiling despite himself, and turns back to the dishes.

even if the dish itself was full of betrayal—and he won’t admit this—the mac and cheese was pretty good.

#my fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #moxiety #anonymous #ask #the sideshire files

[aster-aspera]

Don't cover yourself with thistle and weeds

CW's for this chapter: minor character death, semi-graphic descriptions of injuries, parental death, unsympathetic Remus

Relationship: romantic logince

This prompt was suggested to me by the lovely MizzMarvel on ao3

Chapter title is from thistle and weeds by Mumford and sons

This is Logan’s backstory in my superhero AU. You can find the whole thing on ao3 here  or on the masterlist here

As Logan walked home that morning, he felt invincible, untouchable. All the grey days at school fell away, all the teasing and bullying and all the fear was suddenly gone.

He felt like he was soaring, floating somewhere high above his life. He was so much more than himself in that moment.

Maybe, he didn’t want this to end. However terrifying chasing after criminals was, that particular high almost made the danger worth it. He mourned the fact that it would be over soon. That they would put the gang away, file away the info they had collected and go back to school, alone in the knowledge of what they had done.

The ecstatic feeling faded when he entered his garden and noticed the front door was open. His blood ran cold.

Logan dropped his bag to the floor, frustration written in the lines of his posture.

“Hey sweetheart, how was your day?” His mother called from her office.

“It was uneventful as always and I am not in the mood to discuss it further.” He replied shortly.

His mother rounded the corner and took in his drawn face and the force with which he set his books down on the table.

She held out her arms invitingly and Logan let himself be wrapped up in her embrace, savouring the feeling of safety it gave him.

“Are the other kids giving you trouble again?” She asked.

The other kids were the least of his worries, currently. He could handle their childish taunting. His other problems were related to the more dangerous, night time aspect of his life. But he couldn’t exactly burden his mother with that.

She would worry too much and while he wouldn’t exactly blame her for that, he didn’t need her nagging atop all his worries about Roman and Remus.

So he just nodded and left it at that.

His mother didn’t pressure him to say more. She understood that he didn’t always feel like talking.

Once he was finished with his homework, he locked the door to his room and grabbed the locked box he kept hidden away at the back of his dresser. He opened it and carefully arranged the papers inside into orderly stacks.

The box contained a wealth of information, information that could likely get him in serious trouble if it got into the wrong hands. These files were the fruit of months of research and careful surveillance.

Supply routes, lists of buyers, lists of couriers, the entire ledger, even the names of the most elusive members.

This information could dismantle the entire gang and that was their goal. A few more weeks and they had all the evidence they needed.

Public scandals that would knock the leaders off their thrones, accounts of crimes and evidence so solid no judge would be able to refute it.

They would just have to drop it off at the police station and the gang’s fate would be sealed. It made Logan feel a little better whenever he looked at it. Despite the dangers, they were doing something good, something that would make this shithole of a city just a tiny bit more liveable. And hopefully, would help Remus.

Logan had to admit, he didn’t have that much faith in Roman’s plan. In theory, rolling up the drug rink so Remus lost his debts and could leave without fear of repercussions made sense.

But that theory was heavily relying on the fact that Remus even wanted to leave. He seemed way too comfortable in the criminal environment than Logan cared to see.

His phone started ringing and Logan picked it up without looking away from the supply route he was copying onto another paper.

“Hey erlenmeyer trash, you ready for tonight?”

Logan sighed at the nickname.

“Hello Roman, I told you at school I have everything prepared for tonight. I don’t see why you felt the need to call.”

“It’s just...something feels off. I’m scared something’s gonna go wrong.”

“Did something happen to make you feel like this?”

“No, not really. Well, I haven’t seen Remus in a while and he was acting weird the last time I called.”

“Remus dropping off the map or acting strange is not usually a cause for concern. He is prone to doing things like that.”

“Yeah, I know. I just…” Roman sounded uncharacteristically quiet. He must really be nervous.

“Is there anything else that caused this concern?”

“No…”

“Then we will be alright. We know what we do is dangerous, but there are no signs the gang is aware of what we are doing. We have gone undetected for months, it is improbable they would suddenly know now and not give us any sort of indication. But, if you really are worried, we can call tonight off.”

“No! No, the sooner we get this done, the better. And if you say we’ll be alright, I believe you.”

“So you’re listening to me for once. How novel.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it, specs.”

Logan rolled his eyes.

“Just don’t forget the flashlights this time.”

“You’ll bring back up ones anyways. I don’t see why I bother.”

“It’s important to be prepared, definitely if you’re trying to fight crime with someone as scatterbrained as you.”

“You sound like Batman.”

“Good, that’s what I’m going for.”

“Well, caped crusader, I gotta go make dinner. See you tonight.”

“Yes. Don’t forget your scaly panties, robin.”

Roman signed off with a snort and Logan continued looking through the documents. But Roman’s words kept running through his head and his feeling of unease grew. Maybe it would be better to call it off for tonight.

No, Roman was right, they had to get this done as soon as possible. The longer they waited, the more time the gang had to discover what they were doing.

He decided to head downstairs. He had done all his prep work for tonight and sitting in his room feeling anxious wasn’t helping anyone.

Downstairs, music was playing and his mom and dad stood in the kitchen. They held each other close and were sloppily slowing along to the music, horribly off beat.

His dad noticed him standing in the door opening and beckoned him over.

They took him up in their embrace and his dad kept trying to dance, even though Logan was tripping over his own feet and his mother was laughing too much to follow along.

“Logan! Don’t tell me you don’t know how to slow.” His dad exclaimed as Logan bumped awkwardly into his mother again.

“It’s not like I’ve ever done it before. Nobody slows anymore, dad.”

“What a disgrace. My son should at least know how to slow. What if a pretty boy asks you to dance?”

Logan rolled his eyes but his dad was not to be dissuaded and grabbed him.

“Just follow along to the music.” He instructed.

They ran through the steps slowly and after a while, Logan felt himself loosen up a little. His steps became less mechanical and more like an actual dance.

He smiled as he imagined himself dancing like this with Roman, the other boy was sure to enjoy it, always one for outdated romantic gestures.

His mom laughed and then grabbed his father.

“As important as teaching our son outdated school dances is, I still need your help with dinner.”

They finished making dinner together while Logan set the table.

“ Lettuce eat.” His dad called as he set a bowl of salad down on the table and Logan groaned and hid his head in his hands.

“That pun was souper bad.” His mom groaned.

“Stop.” Logan whined.

“What, don’t you loaf my jokes?” His dad asked.

“They’re terrible.”

“I think they’re sub lime. ” His mom laughed.

Logan lay in his bed, the light from his phone lighting up his face as he waited for his parents to go to bed.

Finally Logan deemed it safe enough to leave and he slunk out of the house.

He walked through the silent neighbourhood till he reached the busier, less ideal parts of town.

There, he found Roman leaning against a wall, in a red leather jacket and heavy black boots, blending in with the crowd of people out on a friday night. Logan felt his heart stutter at the careless way Roman was slumped against the wall, his face cast in stark shadows by the neon lights from a nearby club.

He reminded Logan of the devil, of the incarnation of pride, everything about him inviting yet dangerous.

Logan stopped staring and walked over to join him, trying to lean against the wall with the same graceful abandon but only managing to look like an awkward stick.

“Hello, my dark night.” Roman said.

��You forgot the panties.”

“Oh no, what a tragedy. Guess I can’t be your Robin tonight. Maybe I can be your batwoman?”

“Batwoman’s gay, you dolt.”

“I mean, same.”

“And they’re cousins.”

“Yeah, nevermind.”

“Come on, we have a job to do.” Logan reminded him.

They stayed out all night. Skulking in the shadows and trailing couriers all over the city. Logan felt a strange thrill every time he looked over at Roman. His eyes glinted with excitement and adrenaline.

During the day, they were just teenagers, being pushed and shoved and keeping their heads down as they walked to class.

But now, they were so much more. They became a part of the city, let her bustling energy envelop them. They slipped out of their skin under the streetlights and let themselves disappear into the hubbub and danger that prowled the city streets.

They were angels bringing her justice, they were devils tearing her apart.

They hid behind dumpsters in cold alleyways and walked along the busy promenades, holding each other and pretending to get lost in the others touch, all the while keeping their eyes trained on their mission.

Finally, when the sky was turning a murky gray and Logan’s eyes felt gritty with sleep, they ended up on a bench two streets from Logan’s home. In the suburban neighbourhood, nothing was stirring and, even in the city, it was too early for even the earliest risers.

Roman curled up on the bench and stared at him. Logan stared right back, too tired to care about being seen as weird.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Roman asked, his voice breaking the quiet of the park.

“The evidence we have collected is irrefutable, as long as we take care to deliver it to the right people, there is no reason it shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, I know that. I meant Remus. You said he might not come back, even if he is relieved of his debts. What if he’s really just in it because, I don't know, he likes it? Or he just feels like he fits in there?”

“I don’t know your brother as well as you do. If you have faith in him, then I believe it will work.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know if I have faith in him. He’s just… So different nowadays. It’s like I don’t even know him anymore.”

“Roman, it will be alright. Your brother may have made some mistakes, but it doesn’t mean he is changed forever. Sometimes people just have trouble figuring themselves out. And either way, whether he makes the right choice or not, at least we did our best.”

Roman smiled at him, his mascara smudged and the glow of the street light lighting up his frizzy hair in a halo of golden light.

“You’re a great friend, you know that right?”

“I try my best.” Logan said with a soft smile.

Roman sat up and leant forward. He reached out and gently traced his thumb over Logan’s jaw. Logan looked up into his eyes, his breath stopping somewhere along the path from his lungs to his mouth. Roman’s thumb came to a stop on his lips.

“Is this alright?” He whispered.

Logan just nodded, his usual eloquence rendered mute.

Roman moved in closer and gently, ever so gently, slotted his lips onto Logan’s.

It was soft, and sweet and when he drew back, he pressed his forehead to Logan’s with a bubbly laugh. He threaded his fingers through Logan’s hair.

Finally, after a long moment of his brain incoherently looping the last moment over and over again, he managed to regain some mobility and placed his hand over the one Roman had cupped around his cheek. He turned his head and placed a kiss on Roman’s palm.

“We’re going to change the world.” Roman breathed, ecstatic with sleep deprivation and adrenaline.

“Together.” Logan whispered back.

As Logan walked home that morning, he felt invincible, untouchable. All the grey days at school fell away, all the teasing and bullying and all the fear was suddenly gone.

He felt like he was soaring, floating somewhere high above his life. He was so much more than himself in that moment.

Maybe, he didn’t want this to end. However terrifying chasing after criminals was, that particular high almost made the danger worth it. He mourned the fact that it would be over soon. That they would put the gang away, file away the info they had collected and go back to school, alone in the knowledge of what they had done.

The ecstatic feeling faded when he entered his garden and noticed the front door was open. His blood ran cold.

Had his parents noticed his absence? He had no idea how he would explain this to them.

He entered the house quietly, trepidation burning in his stomach. Should he call out? Maybe he had just left the door open?

But Logan distinctly remembered checking it was locked before leaving.

Downstairs, all was quiet. Everything looked as it should have been except that muddy footprints tracked in from the door to the stairs.

That was disconcerting, there was a very strict ‘no shoes upstairs’ policy in the house.

Logan’s unease grew. He crept upstairs.

“Mom? Dad?” He called out hesitantly.

The house stayed dead quiet.

With a deep breath, he kept moving. He looked in his room first, as it was right next to the stairs.

The door was pulled open. Strange, Logan could swear he had closed it.

His breath hitched when he saw his room. All his drawers were pulled open. His papers were strewn out over the floor.

The box!

Logan found it upturned and shoved in a corner of the room. All the papers were gone. All the evidence they had collected missing.

Ice cold terror clenched around his heart.

They knew.

Without a second thought, he tore out of his room and ran to his parent’s room.

“Mom! Dad!” He choked off when he entered the room.

No! No, no, no, no!

This wasn't real. This was just a nightmare. He would wake up any second. This just couldn't be real.

Blood painted the walls and bedsheets. It looked like a scene from a horror movie, almost comical in its goriness. If he had seen this in a movie he would have scoffed at the overuse of fake blood.

He hesitantly stepped closer and kneeled next to his mother, who was sprawled out on the floor, her entire back a mess of torn flesh and blood and glistening things Logan didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Mom?” His voice came out waveringly.

He reached out. A pulse, he should look for a pulse. He tried to take her arm but recoiled from the blood that covered it.

It was warm and sticky and already seeping through his pants.

“Mom, wake up.” He whispered.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t here, I’m sorry I stayed out all night, just please, wake up.” He begged, like apologizing would fix anything.

She still wasn't moving and neither was his dad. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Logan was aware that begging wasn’t doing him any good. He needed to call for help.

But all that came out of his mouth were more pleas.

“Mom! Stop ignoring me! Just wake up!” He yelled and then he started crying, great gasping sobs that tore all the air from his lungs.

He needed them to wake up, he needed to feel their arms around him, needed their comfort. They couldn’t be gone. Not like this, not now, not when just an hour ago, Roman had kissed him, not when outside he could hear the trucks thundering by. This wasn’t real. It just couldn’t be.

He screamed, desperate and heartbroken.

Wake up .

His eyes got caught on a flash of green on the walls and he looked up.

On the wall, painted in a bright neon green, was the symbol he had been studying for months, the gang's symbol, a sword pointed downwards, and underneath it, like an artist’s tag, a sloppy R.

Remus.

Logan felt anger curl in his gut. After everything they had done to help him, this was his answer.

He would pay.

This wasn’t the end. If they thought they could stop him with this, they were wrong. He would get his revenge, he would burn that gang to the ground and he would destroy Remus.

This was personal now.

#sander sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #ts logan #roman sanders #ts roman #u!remus #unsympathetic remus #logince #romantic logince #superhero au #ts superhero au #my writing #tell me if i forgot to tag something

[eeveedel]

chubby actor louis (part 3)

hello, lovely people! we have yet another installment, and there’s lots of debauchery in this lil update. includes: weight talk, body image talk, bondage, dom/sub dynamics, stuffing, weight gain kink, and lots and lots of food. I hope you enjoy. mwah! 

part 1 I part 2

--

Bacon, eggs with cheese, and a large coffee with cream and sugar started each of Louis’s days.

He slept in every day, and woke up to his breakfast on a tray next to him. Sometimes there were additions of some changes; sausages instead of bacon, scrambled eggs instead of fried, chocolate chip muffins instead of toast. But his food was always waiting for him, and usually, Harry was, too.

Harry worked out in the mornings, so he was usually sweaty, pink-cheeked, and shirtless, sitting next to Louis in bed when he woke up.

“Morning, sunshine,” Harry greeted him with a kiss, “Are you hungry?”

That was also a now-constant in Louis’s life. Harry always asking if he was hungry, if he needed a snack, if he wanted to try something Harry had been whipping up. And unless he was already painfully full, Louis usually said yes.

He pulled himself up, fluffing pillows behind him so he could sit up and eat his breakfast, the food on his many plates slowly disappearing until he just had empty dishes and a full belly.

He slouched back, lazily sipping his coffee while Harry showered him in his usually string of compliments.  

“Look at your cheeks, sweetheart,” Harry hummed as he cradled Louis’s face, “They’re so round! You look so pretty.”

This is why they worked well together, Louis thought through his post-meal haze. He was a goal orientated person, always ploughing forward to the next task. But Harry took in details, observed both the beauty and flaws in everything, although he was so sweet he usually wanted to notice the former. He was the one who would sit back and soak in the little things, notice the changes in everything.

“I know,” Louis sighed, reaching up to touch his puffy cheeks. He folded his hands down a moment later, running his hands down his stomach and rucking up the edge of his shirt.

“But Harry, look at this,” Louis groaned, prodding at the spot under his belly button. “I have a stretch mark! Look!”

“I see it, honey,” Harry said with an easy smile.

“I have a fucking stretch mark,” Louis moaned, “I’m going to have it forever. I’m going to have to use those lotions pregnant women use. Oh my god, Harry.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Harry sighed, giving him a kiss, “I think it’s cute.”

“Of course you do.”

“What? I do. It just means you’re bursting with the love I’m giving you,” Harry said, “Twenty-three pounds of lovin’ in this belly.”

He gave Louis a little pat on his stomach, and Louis felt the morning tension and grumpiness unspool from his body. He sighed and leaned over, giving Harry a kiss as he placed his hand next to Harry’s on his own midsection.

“Well don’t give yourself too much credit, I did most of the work,” Louis huffed, “You can take more credit when you contribute seven more pounds.”

Harry offered him a wolfish grin, and kissed him hard on the cheek.

“Deal.”

--

Louis couldn’t remember a time he had looked forward to eating this much.

He vaguely remembered a time – now only about a month and a half ago – that he had eaten kale salads with salmon on top and mixed grains for dinner and washed it down with kombucha, where he had told himself that it was worth it for all the vitamins and nutrients and the bragging rights he would have amongst his industry friends for how had the most restrictive diet, but he had never been happy before, during, or after those meals. And he also remembered when he had started preparing for this role, where the thrill of eating to his heart’s desire was quickly chased with anxiety over his softening waistline, the voice in his head that said he was doing the worst thing in the world.

But those voices were gone now. There was just his tongue that craved things, and then his boyfriend that inevitable placed that craving into Louis’s hands within the hour. Poutine, with thick homemade fries, doused in orange curls of cheese and thick gravy, curly ramen noodles with eggs on top and tender pieces of beef soaked in salty broth, homemade banana bread slathered in Nutella. Before bed, ice cream with gobs of cookie dough, brownies with caramel drizzled on top, peach pie with whipped cream. If he was thirsty he was presented with ice cold glasses of grape or cherry soda, vanilla milkshakes, or homemade Frappuccinos.

He ended every day with a tight, gurgling belly, which Harry would happily rub, and in the morning, his boyfriend’s careful eyes and observant eyes put him on the scale and measured every inch of his body.

Three more pounds crept up on Louis’s frame, bringing with it the usual praise from Harry and also more and more of the minute details Louis was noticing more and more. His cheeks pressed hard up into his eyes when he smiled, and he barely had to look down or speak for the double fold under his chin to be noticeable. His biceps had softened and he soft bit of arm jiggled under each arm when he waved. He had to rock a little to get himself going before he got up from the couch, and he caught him breathing a bit harder at the top of their main staircase. More red marks appeared on his hips, stomach, and legs, and his thighs rubbed together hard when he walked through the house. Harry bought him some special powder to slap on his thighs and also a large pair of bike shorts to help the chaffing, but when Louis forgot either of them, he widened his stance a bit into a small, awkward waddle. Once Harry caught him doing it and pinned him against the nearest wall for a mid-afternoon quickie.

Harry told him things that would have scared Louis, once – “You’re going to have to go up another pant size soon” and “You know you’re overweight for your height now” and “You’re really fucking out of shape” – but he said them in a deep, raspy voice that turned those statements into the highest of praise.

Louis knew the impact his body had on his boyfriend, and he carried that with pride.

One evening, Louis half-waddled into the kitchen, delicately holding a hand on top of the curve of his stomach, and saw Harry shirtless, standing at the counter and tossing a salad. Harry turned when he saw Louis, his smile bright.

“Hey, you.”

“Can I have a snack?” Louis said, blushing a little. His stomach was just starting to gurgle again, even though after lunch he had had a whole package of sugary dried fruit.

“You’re in luck, I was about to call you for dinner,” Harry said, “Come see.”

Louis followed Harry into the dining room, his eyes widening when he got there. Harry had apparently chosen a theme of Italian and carbs for the evening, because their dining table had two big pans of lasagna, one filled with beef and marinara sauce and one with layers of cheese and a thick white vodka sauce. There was a big loaf of garlic bread nestled in a wad of aluminum foil, and a small tray with two chocolate lava cakes.

“Oh, fuck,” Louis whispered, moving past Harry to look at the food more closely. He leaned forward, the shelf of his belly pressing gently into the edge of the table, and reached towards the tail end of the garlic bread loaf. It was still a little far away, so he leaned further forward, his ass sticking out further behind him and his stomach harder into the table in a way that made him exhale hard.

Louis tore off a piece of bread and stuffed it into his mouth, and then he looked behind him and saw Harry, his eyes dark, a slight smirk on his face as he leaned on the divider of their kitchen. Louis chewed the bread and swallowed quickly.

“What, babe?” Louis asked, his voice already dropping a bit.

“Just enjoying the view,” Harry offered, the side of his mouth twitching.

“Yeah?” Louis asked. He batted his lashes and leaned further over the table. The pair of briefs he had grabbed were too small, and he could feel them wedging into his ass, showing off more of his cheeks. He bounced a little on his toes, feeling the way it made his behind jiggle, and then he reached a hand behind him, smacking his own cheek. “You like this fat ass, baby?”

“God, fuck,” Harry breathed out. He pushed away from the kitchen and came closer, grabbing Louis around the hips. He shoved himself forward, his jeans grinding roughly against Louis’s ass, and Louis gasped. He tried to stand and twist around to let Harry kiss him. He felt his sides fold into a thick roll, and just the feeling made him moan into Harry’s lips.

“You look so good,” Harry groaned as he pulled back, only to nip at Louis’s lip. “So sexy.”

He rubbed along Louis’s stomach, pressing gently into the softness, and Louis giggled.

“Thanks to you,” he said, “You keep me fat and happy, baby.”

“Mm,” Harry hummed, “You’re happy?”

The question seemed genuine, a little softer, and Louis pulled back.

“Yes,” he said firmly, “I am so, so happy.”

He set his hands on Harry’s shoulders, smoothing his hands along the hard, firm lines under his t-shirt.

“God, I don’t decided if I want to fuck you or have the food,” he groaned. “Can we have both?”

“I don’t want you to choke, honey.”

“Ugh, boring,” Louis moaned, “Always so worried for my safety.”

Harry was quiet, chewing on his lip, and then his eyes brightened.

“I have an idea,” Harry said, “If you don’t like it, we don’t do.”

“Okay,” Louis said slowly, “Tell me.”

“I get a pair of our handcuffs from the box upstairs,” Harry said, “Or rope. Or a scarf. Whatever you want. Tie you to a chair, feed you your dinner. And I’ll untie you when I think you’ve had enough.”

Louis felt a little thrill run through his belly at the idea, and his mouth dropped.

“Oh,” he exhaled, “I – okay.”

“Would you want to try that?” Harry asked. He was trying to keep his voice steady, but Louis could recognize Harry’s eagerness easily.

“Sure,” Louis said, “Sure, let’s do it, yeah.”

“Yeah,” Harry echoed. He took a step back and vaguely gestured behind him, “I’m gonna…get supplies upstairs. What do you want me to tie you with?”

“Um,” Louis said, “Rope?”

“Solid choice,” Harry agreed, “I’ll be right back.”

He seemed to sprint out of the room, and Louis heard him moving around rapidly upstairs, and then, his footsteps were going down the stairs, and soon, Harry was in front of him. He was carrying a soft length of bondage rope, thick and petal pink, and Louis smiled.

“Tell me what you need me to do,” Louis said gently.

“Sit,” Harry breathed out, his voice firm.

Louis pulled out a dining room chair and sat down, and Harry nodded.

“Scoot back, hands behind your hands…there you go.”

Harry moved behind Louis and crouched on the ground, and then tied the rope around Louis’s wrists, and then around the slats at the back of the chair, securing Louis to the chair. Harry put in a couple more ties, his hands sure and well-trained, and he gave them a tug, asking if they were too tight and adjusting the knots. Finally, he stood up and circled around Louis to go to the kitchen, and then returned a moment later with two big glasses of ice water. Then he grabbed his own chair, dragging it forward so he was sitting directly in front of Louis.

Louis watched carefully as Harry picked up a piece of garlic bread, dripping in bright yellow butter. Louis licked his lips and locked his eyes with Harry, his head already growing fuzzy.

Harry pushed his hand forward, holding the bread right next to Louis’s lips.

“Eat,” he said softly.

Louis opened his mouth gladly and bit into the bread, moaning immediately at the taste. He ate happily, swallowed down what Harry gave him and then licking his boyfriend’s buttery, crumb-covered fingers when he was done. Harry reached for another piece of bread and offered it to Louis, smiling as he swallowed it down. Another piece of bread appeared after that, bigger than the first two, and Louis once again ate it quickly, making Harry’s smile grow.

“Good boy,” Harry nodded. He paused just to wipe his hand with a napkin and to pick up Louis’s water, commanding him to take a big sip.  

Next Harry dragged forward a tray of lasagna, the one filled with meat and red sauce. He retrieved a big serving spoon and took a hunk out of the corner of the dish, then held it in front of Louis. He ate, just like he was told, his tongue savoring the soft pasta, the rich sauce, the greasy cheese. He moaned happily and ate from Harry’s spoon, then eating another spoonful afterwards. Harry pet his hair and cooed, picking up more and more for Louis to eat, until there was a big space in the lasagna pan where they used to be food.

Louis’s stomach felt warm and happy, and he wiggled a little when Harry switched to the other pan, how giving him a taste of sharp-tasting vodka sauce that made his tongue tingle.

“So good, baby,” Louis moaned as he ate. He felt some sauce drip onto his chin and Harry didn’t go to clean it up.

“Thank you,” Harry smiled, picking up another spoonful, “Only the best for my boy.”

Louis closed his eyes and kept eating, his mind a haze of cheese and pasta. He only frowned when he felt how tight his stomach was getting. He blinked, looking down. He could his belly was sticking out, perfect round, and he looked up at Harry.

“I’m a little full…” he said, but Harry just blinked at him and dug up another spoonful of lasagna.

“You stop when I tell you to stop,” Harry said simply, “Open your mouth.”

Louis blinked, and then opened his mouth and did what he was told. When he was done with the spoonful Harry smiled and reached out, smacking the side of Louis’s belly and giving it a little jiggle.

“Good boy,” he praised.

Harry’s hand was steady, doling out more pasta, and then more bread, all with little sips of water. Louis took deep breaths, pulling a little at his constraints to get comfortable. His stomach was tighter and heavy, and he opened his legs a bit to give his stomach room. He felt it sag, he felt the elastic of his underwear starting to curl at the top, helpless to the weight of his middle.

“Such a perfect boy,” Harry said, “Eating so well for me. Making me so happy.”

Louis nodded, and opened his mouth at Harry’s next command. More bread. More butter. More calories that would go straight to his thighs and belly and ass. Or maybe his double chin, or his fat arms. It didn’t matter.

His eyes drooped as he ate, and he felt grease and sauce accumulate on his face and chin. His mouth opened less eagerly, but he still ate. He let out a little burp at one point, and blushed, but Harry just patted his gut and gave it a jiggle, telling him it was okay.

“One more bite,” Harry said, holding out more lasagna, “And then dessert.”

Dessert? Jesus fucking Christ. But Louis opened his mouth nonetheless and ate the lasagna.

As soon as he had swallowed, Harry fetched a clean fork and the two lava cakes, holding him out.

“These are for you,” Harry grinned, “Both of them.”

“Both?” Louis asked,

“Try for me,” Harry said, “Come on.”

He gave Louis more water, and then gave his belly a firm jiggle, and then, there was a forkful of chocolate in front of Louis.

His belly said no. But chocolate sounded so good. And Harry was giving him a look where no was not an option.

So Louis sagged forward and welcomed the cake into his mouth.

His brain was floating elsewhere, his mouth was full of chocolate, and Harry was still staring at him, coaxing the food between his lips.

Louis moaned as he finished one lava cake and then another one floated in front of his face. His mouth opened without thought, a robotoic motion of open-close-chew-swallow.

He barely realized the last bite was gone until Harry was kissing him, one hand cradling Louis’s full, tender stomach.

“Oh, good fucking boy,” Harry breathed, “God, look at you.”

Louis could only imagine what Harry was seeing; Louis exhausted, sweating, red-faced, his face covered in food and his soft body spilling out of his briefs. Harry started to clean him, rubbing a napkin on his face, getting some water into his system, and then he untied Louis’s wrists, letting him lean forward and cradle his stomach. The skin was tight and hot under his hands, and he moaned. Harry coaxed him to his feet, and Louis widened his legs, cradling his belly and waddling to the living room, until he could collapse on the couch.

Harry sat by his hip, rubbing his stomach, soothing the aching skin and giving Louis kisses on his face and wrists as he came down from his high. His stomach was screaming, but his head was happy. He was Harry’s good boy, happy and fat, always doing what he was told. That was enough.

As Louis became more lucid, Harry grew a bit quiet, still touching Louis carefully but not offering many words. Eventually, his voice came, quiet and uncertain.

“Louis,” Harry said softly, “Are you really happy?”

“Hm?” Louis lifted his head and looked at his boyfriend, who was looking at him so gently.

“Are you happy like this?” Harry asked, “Like you said earlier?”

He kept drawing circles around Louis’s belly button, but Louis still would’ve understood his question.

“Honestly, I think…I think this is the happiest I’ve been in a while,” Louis admitted.

His skin flushed as he said it, but he was smiling.

“I don’t have to get up early to do work outs I don’t even enjoy and eat food I hate, just for a body I’ll never feel good enough in,” he said. The words were rushed, but he meant them.

“I don’t know if I was happy like that, when we were the fucking ‘fittest couple in Hollywood,’” Louis confessed, “I mean, that was your thing, and I just did it because it was expected of me.”

He blushed, reaching down to squeeze his belly.

“But I feel so…so happy like this. In this body, with you, doing this,” he said, “Like I’m enough.”

Harry nodded, his face soft and content.

“I always had the feeling you didn’t like working out that much,” Harry said, “I mean, you did it, but I always had the feeling you wanted to do anything else.”

“Yeah,” Louis said softly, “And I hated half the food I used to eat. I guess some of it was alright. But I just felt like I had no choice.”

“Well know you can do whatever you want,” Harry said, “Although I will say, I kind of miss you when I work out. I miss having you there with me.”

“Maybe I can hang out with you while you’re lifting? Or on the treadmill?” Louis offered, “I can have a snack and talk to you while you do that.”

“I would really like that,” Harry agreed.

He reached down again to pet Louis’s belly, and Louis looked down at himself, a little lump growing in his throat.

“I’m going to have to lose this eventually,” Louis said sadly, “For my job.”

“Hey,” Harry said softly, cuffing Louis under the chin. “We have four pounds to go, honey.”

He gave him a kiss, holding his lips tight on Louis’s cheek before he pulled away.

“And I plan to make them count.”

--

Ideas sprouted in Harry’s head like weeds in the middle of spring.

For the next few days, he scaled back some of Louis’s meals. Still giving him everything he wanted, just a little less. A dozen buffalo wings instead of eighteen, four red velvet cupcakes instead of six, two calzones but no cinnamon sticks to go with them. Louis questioned him, a little frown forming at each of the meals.

“I’m planning something,” Harry teased him, “Be patient.”

And then one morning Louis woke up to no breakfast platter, and instead, Harry was just sitting next to him, a giant smile on his face.

“Wear something tight for me today,” Harry said, and then got up and disappeared. And Louis realized this was the day, this was Harry’s planning was paying off. And Louis was eager to mind out what it entailed.

Louis went to their closet, rifling the section that had become his out-grown clothes. He hated wearing tight clothes, he preferred his sweatpants and pajamas now above anything else, but if Harry wanted, he could deliver.

He selected a white button-down shirt and a pair of dark jeans, and started the process of doing them up. It was easier said than done, they had been new purchases when he and Harry had visited the mall, but they were already tight. All the buttons on his shirt did up, but the buttons were tight and the fabric stretched taunt on his frame, not hiding a thing. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and unbuttoned the first few buttons of the shirt, something that used to show off his delicate wrists and sharp collarbones that had since thickened and softened. He yanked on the jeans, which were snug against his thighs and ass, and he had to suck in to button them and then pull the curve of his stomach out of the waistband, letting it flop over top of his pants and pushing hard against his shirt.

He knew he wasn’t that big, but in this outfit, he felt massive, and it sent a little thrill through him, especially knowing how much Harry would love to see it, too.

He made his way down the stairs, breathing a bit hard at how the buttons cut into him. Harry was waiting for him in the doorway of the kitchen, and he waved his hand towards the breakfast nook, signaling for Louis to sit.

“You look gorgeous,” Harry smiled, “And I like the white shirt, too. You’ll probably get messy today. But maybe that’s good.”

Louis smiled, his stomach fluttering a bit.

“So what are you making me today?”

“Well, just one thing, actually,” Harry said.

Louis’s heart sank a bit. One thing, for the whole day? And then Harry disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a platter holding an enormous cheesecake almost completely covered in Oreos, chocolate sauce, and whipped cream. He placed it in front of Louis with reverence, staring at it for a long moment before turning to Louis.

“I spent all last night making this,” Harry beamed, “It’s around twenty thousand calories.”

The two statements hit Louis one after the other, and he blinked.

“Oh,” Louis stammered, “Oh, wow.”

“Yep!” Harry chirped, “And you’re gonna eat it today.”

He kissed Louis’s temple as the other man just stared at the platter, open mouthed.

“Gonna get you a fork,” Harry said, “Are you hungry?”

“I, yeah,” Louis managed.

“Of course you are,” Harry said, “My baby’s always hungry.”

He disappeared once more, and he returned with a fork. He pressed it into Louis’s hand, and then kissed the top of his head.

“Eat up, gorgeous.”

Louis nodded, staring at the feat in front of him. He wasn’t tied up, like he had been the night of the lasagna, but he felt just as much under Harry’s control.

He took a breath, feeling the press of the buttons into his abdomen. He had all day. He could do this. He would do this.

He reached his fork forward, picking up a bite of the cheesecake and placing it on his tongue. It was delicious, as always, so sweet it made his teeth sing, incredibly soft, and rich enough that he could taste the butter.

He easily ate through a full slice, and then another after that. He loved sweets for breakfast, and Harry had trained him for such indulgences with Belgian waffles and chocolate muffins presented to him quite literally on a silver platter. He even managed to polish off another slice, and Harry praised him with a kiss and a hug.

And so, for the rest of the day, the cheesecake was Louis’s constant companion. Anytime he felt the smallest bit of emptiness in his belly, he was back at the table with his fork, digging into the layers of cookies and frosting, picking away at the mammoth plate. Usually Harry worked up in his studio, but he seemed to be lingering around a lot more, either on his laptop or engrossed in his sketchbook, but still taking time to look up at Louis as he ate.

At lunchtime, a third of the cake was gone and Louis’s buttons were so tight he was gasping. He shoved cake into his mouth and then moved to undo his shirt, but Harry’s voice halted him.

“Leave that,” he said firmly, and Louis’s hand dropped immediately. He went back to his cake, sugar-buzzed and obedient.

He returned only an hour and a half later, eager for a few more bites. He didn’t realize until now how much hungrier he was throughout the day, his body trained for constant snacks. He sat down and picked up his fork, Harry sitting nearby watching.

He only had to reach forward a little before he heard a rip and felt pressure release on his stomach.

Louis blinked and looked down and saw there was a very apparent rip in his shirt, right over his stomach. There was also a bit of a gap at the side seam, and when he shifted, the rip widened. He looked up at Harry, his mouth opened, and his boyfriend’s eyes were dark.

“Eat your cake,” he said, his voice deep, and Louis reached for the fork without question.

As he moved around the house, the gaps in his shirt grew, the rips audible and showing more and more of his skin. He also saw how the white fabric was staining, smeared with chocolate and greasy bits of whipped cream. He would be embarrassed by it, but Harry kept giving him the most satisfying looks.

As dinner time approached, there was still a significant amount of cheesecake left, and Harry clucked his tongue.

“I worked so hard on this,” he said, “It better not go to waste.”

Louis’s fork found its way back to the plate.

Eventually, he decided not to leave the table. His brain was a swirl of black and white sugar, his body felt sluggish. There was a new rip under his right arm, and he had to keep breathing around the buttons, which were nothing short of painful now. He groaned as he took another bite, his body protesting, and he rocked forward a little, a hand cradling his stomach as he tried to sooth himself.

He heard the sound, a pop and then a high little ping on the ground, and then felt his stomach surge. Another pop. Another ping. He moaned, moving to the space where the two buttons had flown off, leaving his pale, soft belly exposed to the cool air.

He looked up at Harry and blinked, his vision blurring.

“I think the shirt’s too small,” he said, and then, his hand scrambled for the fork. More cake passed his lips. Harry groaned.

Louis couldn’t tell the difference between the next seconds to minutes to hours. It was all cake, all Harry’s gaze, all the feeling of his shirt ripping, unable to contain his form. His mouth and hand moved on their own in rhythm, working towards the goal as his other hand rubbed his stomach.

Eventually he blinked and rocked forward, and he felt the thick button on his jeans break, hurtling towards the ground. Louis hiccupped and adjusted his hips, his stomach pushing down the zipper of his pants.

He felt Harry’s hand on his belly and he leaned back, accepting a kiss on the head. He hadn’t even known Harry was there. He was too sugar drunk to know anything.

“I’m gonna pop,” he heard himself moan, and Harry soothed him.

“But you just have a little more,” Harry said carefully, “Please. Come on. Make me proud.”

Make Harry proud.

Louis’s mouth lolled open and stayed at way. A hand that wasn’t his fed him, rubbed his belly, slipped his fingers under Louis’s ripped shirt.

“Good. Good. Perfect,” Harry coaxed, “Just a little more now.”

Louis barely heard Harry when he was done. He collapsed on the table, panting, his shirt ripping even more. He thought he felt a rip along his inner thigh, but he didn’t know. He felt Harry’s hands lifting him up, guiding him to the sofa, offering him water.

“Never make me do that again,” Louis wheezed, and he heard Harry laugh.

“Once is all I wanted,” he heard his proud, proud boyfriend say, “And God, were you absolutely spectacular.”

--

Louis expected a bit more pomp and circumstance, in all honesty.

It still the morning, although Louis had slept in so it was closer to midday. Harry had to shake him awake and Louis immediately groaned and yanked the blankets over his head.

“Not now,” he huffed.

“Up and at ‘em,” Harry said gently, “Come on, honey. Scale.”

“I’m hungry,” Louis protested.  

“I know, honey,” Harry sighed, “But we gotta weigh you first.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“If we weigh you after you eat, it might not be accurate,” Harry said, “Come on. I’ll make you whatever you want.”

Louis considered resisting a bit longer, but he could hear the eagerness in Harry’s voice. It was his favorite thing, to see the numbers under Louis’s feet rise.

So Louis rolled out of bed and followed Harry to the bathroom. At Harry’s instruction he stepped up on the scale, not even looking down to read it. He rubbed at his eyes and yawned, blinking weakly as he tried to wake up. The scale beeped under him, evening out, and he waited for Harry to read him the number like he always did.

But there wasn’t anything.

He turned to his side, seeing Harry was still, just staring down.

“Harry?” he asked, “What is it?”

Harry lifted his head, his smile brilliant.

“179.”

Louis blinked.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So…I’m…”

“You did it, babe,” Harry said, “Well, you went above and beyond, actually.”

“One pound isn’t above and beyond.”

“It is,” Harry insisted, “It is to me.”

He surged forward, wrapping his arms around Louis and giving him a squeeze that made Louis squeak.

“You’re perfect,” Harry breathed out, “Absolutely perfect.”

Louis could only stare down at the number below him, the reality catching up to him.

He had gained thirty-one pounds. He was out of breath, hungry, and covered in stretch marks.

And he had never felt better about himself in his entire life.

After a moment, he stepped down, and let himself be fully hugged by Harry, snuggling into his chest.

“God, wow,” Harry said again, “I’m – I can’t believe this.”

“I know, right?” Louis sighed, “And hey, you helped with the last sixteen. So you can officially claim most of the credit.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head.

“I mean, I’m kind of…sad that it’s over, to be honest,” Harry said, “This has been so fun.”

“Well,” Louis drawled slowly, “I have a whole movie to shoot. Gonna have to keep this up for awhile.”

He patted his stomach and watched how he jiggled.

“You up for helping me with that?” Louis asked, “Can’t get skinny now.”

Harry’s mouth twitched, and he gave Louis a long look before grinning once more.

“I think I would be interested.”

#drabbles #larry fanfiction #larry fan fic #larry fanfic #chubby actor

[thran-duils]

Doll Me Up (P.11, Final)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Eleven, Final) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 1,892 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior, drug use

Part Ten ||  Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

~2 weeks later…

“Come now, drink up,” Tony said, gesturing impatiently since he was needing to leave to go to a meeting bright and early, and you picked up the glass warily.

He had made you a smoothie out of hemp, cucumber, avocado, kale, ginger, grapes, and coconut milk. You had watched him adding each ingredient feeling more and more anxious. You just wanted an egg and bacon sandwich.

You grimaced as you swallowed it. You whined, “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, I don’t either but it’s good for us, kitten,” Tony said, grabbing his own glass and taking a swig. He barely held back a face. “I’ve gotta be tip top shape for you and the baby. And you gotta be tip top shape for baby Stark.”

Scowling, you stared down at your glass, muttering, “I don’t like you calling it that.”

“I don’t like you calling it… it.”

“Well, we don’t know the sex yet, so what do you want me to say?”

“Baby Stark,” Tony quipped, taking another drink. He eyed your glass, nodding, telling you to do the same.

You took another long drink and swallowed it with difficulty. “It sounds too close to that annoying ass song.” Tony cocked his head in confusion, and you said, “I won’t subject you to it. Or myself to it. Again. Once was enough. I’m glad we are past the age – hopefully – that abomination is in vogue.”

“Well, now you’ve got me curious,” Tony said, pulling out his phone.

“Please, don’t,” you begged and then thought quick to threaten, “I won’t finish this if you do.”

Tony pointed at you and said, “That’s not fair. That’s for baby… the baby. This is for me and you can handle it.” Your jaw set and put the glass down, staring defiantly back at him. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact. “You hate it that much?”

“Yes.”

Rolling his eyes, he placed his phone back down and picked his glass back up, taking another drink. At his relent, you did the same. Tony finished his and sucked his teeth before rinsing his glass in the sink. You forced yourself to finish as well and placed the glass back down on the counter. Tony grabbed it from you and rinsed yours as well.

He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss, “I’ll listen to it at work.”

“I am telling you, you shouldn’t subject yourself to it,” you replied.

“Digging my own grave then,” Tony joked before giving you another kiss, longer this time. He tapped your nose and said, “Do your laps in the pool, princess. Don’t forget. Doctor said that would help aches and loosening your muscles.” You nodded in response and he smiled, his hand coming to rest on your abdomen for a second before he moved past you to go to the garage and leave.

<><><>

~2.5 months later… (5.5 months along)

Tony had you on your knees on the bed, your fingers spread, digging into the bed, bracing yourself. He ran his hands up your sides as he kept a steady pace. He was being gentler than usual, and you were thankful, loving the intimate contact. His touch was sensual and loving. The further you got along, the more he was relaxing on the rough sex.

The two of you ended up on your sides, Tony holding you close this chest as you came down.

He laid a kiss on your cheek, still panting softly from the exertion considering he had done most of the work.

His hand slid down to your abdomen, caressing your ever growing bump gently.

��Look at how perfect and strong you are, kitten,” he murmured. He turned your head towards him and kissed you slow and deep. “A superhero in your own right, growing life.” You smiled gently at that.

<><><>

~1.5 months later… (7 months)

“She’s been good,” Happy commented, watching Y/N inside from the back patio. She was showing now completely, round, and no hiding her pregnancy. “I can admit, I am surprised.” He looked at Mikhail and said, “Looks like you aren’t a complete idiot.”

“Took you long enough to figure out,” Mikhail responded, taking a long drink, looking at the women gathered inside the room. He smacked his lips and said under his breath to Happy, “Not stoked about being at a baby shower but at least there’s a lot of nice ass to look at.”

Inside the mansion, you took the salad from your friend, who commented, “You should eat something else.”

“We are going to have cake later,” you said waving her off.

“I meant something more nutritious than a green salad, Y/N.”

“Spinach is very healthy,” you retorted.

“There are a lot of finger foods. Tea sandwiches. Meatballs on sticks with veggies. Deviled eggs. Pinwheels?”

You sighed, chewing the bite of salad you had just taken. “A couple deviled eggs wouldn’t be bad. And some veggie sticks with ranch.”

She walked off and you scowled to yourself. Everyone was trying to constantly get you to eat ‘healthy’ for the baby and it was getting worse, the hounding about everything you needed to do. You were tired of it. The constant asking about what you had eaten and when, the reminders to drink water as if you had not been drinking water your entire life, did you exercise…

Cassandra waltzed over, sitting down next to you. You were very thankful she had decided to come and had forgiven you for the scene at her house less than a year ago. She picked a crouton off your salad, drawing a smirk out of you as she winked, before she said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where did you get this dress? It is gorgeous.”

“Tiffany Rose.”

“The blush color looks beautiful on you. And I love you went dramatic with the floor length.”

“Thanks. Would you expect anything less from me?” you asked, jokingly. She shook her head, smiling. You took another bite and swallowed. “Are you looking for a dress for your shower?”

She nodded in return. She was taking a break from porn – hinting she might not go back at all – having gotten pregnant herself. And then asked, her eyebrows wiggling, “Is the blush supposed to be an indicator about the sex?”

“No. I just liked the color.”

“You really don’t know the sex yet? It’s a surprise for everyone?”

“Well, for us. I’m sure Happy and Mikhail know. God knows Tony couldn’t have kept it all to himself. Good luck breaking them though. I’ve been trying to get Happy to slip up about it for a couple weeks.”

Cassandra leaned back and said, “So, he set it all up and then the cake cutting reveal is his secret?” You nodded. “Hmm, he put a lot of work into this.”

“He did,” you confirmed, taking another bite as your other friend returned with a plate of deviled eggs and the vegetables you had agreed to. You held out the half-finished salad bowl and they took it, albeit reluctantly seeing you had not finished. You took the plate and obliged them by eating one of the eggs. “He’s excited.”

You paused and then added, “Excited but he’s ready for rough sex again.”

“I’m sure you are too,” Cassandra joked, nudging you playfully.

“Yeah. I’m tired of just… growing.” You took a bite off one of the carrot sticks. “It’s never ending. And I know I’ve got probably another month and a half of it at least.”

“It’ll all be worth it,” Cassandra reassured you, stealing a celery stick off your plate now and biting into it.

You finished off your carrot, swallowed, and muttered, “I fucking hope so.”

Your hand came to your stomach, rubbing. You were anxious to know what the sex was. When the sex had been able to be detected, Tony insisted you should stay in the dark so he could make it an actual reveal at the baby shower for you. You hated not knowing when he did, but he had been persistent about the idea of it and you had gone with it because he seemed thrilled with the idea. You just wanted to know. You were hoping the party would progress faster so you could end that anxiousness.

When it finally happened, the blue inside the cake settled something in you. At least you knew what that part of your future was going to look like.

<><><>

~2.5 months later…

“What’s this?” Tony asked, seeing another travel bag next to yours.

“It’s for Miles,” you said as if that was obvious. You went back into your closet, grabbing another scarf from your collection. It was going to be cold at Lake Tahoe for the trip.

Tony took the scarf from you and put it in your travel bag. “He doesn’t need a bag. He’s staying here.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, stricken. He was only a month old. Barely.

“Doctors said one month is enough, but a lot recommend three months for trips. So, we are going to play it safe. He’ll stay here and we will go.”

“Tony, I—we can’t leave him!” you tried to argue, your hand falling protectively on his travel bag.

Tony’s eyes flicked to your hands and he gripped them, prying them away to grasp them in his. He stared into your eyes and said, “Sure we can. It’s only three days, Y/N. We will be back before you know it. He is an infant; he’s not going to notice.”

You were going to notice leaving your infant behind.

“I have to breastfeed him,” you tried another argument.

“Pump before we leave. You have back up in the fridge, no? And it keeps for up to four days. And then he can have formula otherwise.”

“I didn’t want to give him formula,” you protested.

“Don’t listen to that shit that says it’s not good. I had formula and I’m a genius by earthly standards,” Tony said, trying to make a joke. “I already got the formula, Wendy knows how to whip it up.”

“But—” you started to protest but Tony interjected.

“Just us, princess. Just us,” Tony said, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he cradled your face.  “He’ll be fine. He’s in very capable hands with Wendy. You trust her right?” He waited for you to respond and you nodded; you did trust her, wholeheartedly. But that did not mean you did not want to bring your infant on a trip with the two of you. Before you could actually say anything, Tony’s hands fell from your face and gripped at your hips, sliding back to your ass to hold you close. “Let’s enjoy ourselves.” He leaned in, nipping at your ear, “Let me enjoy you. He’s been stealing all your attention as of late.”

You hated that last comment. Throughout your pregnancy and even from the beginning, you had had a nagging feeling Tony was going to get jealous about sharing your affection and attention. And that was just proving it.

“I deserve some attention, don’t I, baby?”

Shoving down argument, you forced a quick smile. “Of course, daddy. All of my attention.”

He smiled sensually, his hands kneading at your ass as he pulled you closer. His eyes were alight with adoration for you. “That’s my perfect princess.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21, @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @kvzctam @farihafangirls, @teenageregression @mrsnegan25 @lilacs-lavender @agustdowney @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @emmariexx

#tony stark x reader #dark tony stark #dark!tony stark #dark marvel fic #my shit

[notfunnydean]

My good boy

Challenge: Good things happen Bingo Prompt: Falling asleep on their lap Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel Warnings: light dom/sub, kinda sub space, jealous!Dean Word Count: 2.342 Summary: Castiel wants to leave them again, to ‘check in’ with heaven. Dean hates the idea. Always did. This time he finally does something about it. Link (if posted on AO3): https://archiveofourown.org/works/22778587

“Absolutely not.”

Dean is glaring at Castiel, who is standing in the doorway of their kitchen. Dean had just made them all breakfast when Castiel announced he would check in with Heaven again to solve their problem with God.

“What do you mean?” Castiel asks, his head tilted and Dean’s heart jumps at that. He pushes those feelings away and glares even more.

“You will not go, are you crazy? The angels hate you!” Dean growls and yes, maybe he should’ve said that a bit nicer. Castiel looks angry now as well, but there is also some hurt in his eyes and Dean looks down.

“Thank you for reminding me.” Castiel says and Dean can see that Sam puts his hands together. Probably silently praying to someone to put him out of this situation. Dean huffs, but doesn’t answer Castiel.

“But, I do think we will need their help.” Castiel continues. Dean knows that he is already sulking at this point, so he tries to focus on the bacon in front of him. He happily puts it on his toast, on top of so much melted butter, that Sammy gagged before Castiel came in.

“They will only…. No, seriously Cas. Don’t go.” Dean finally says, taking a relieved breath because damn he had always said something different. He is scared.

He is fucking scared that the other angels will hurt Castiel, or do even worse things. Dean shudders, but Castiel sighs and at least steps further into the kitchen. 

Sadly he doesn’t sit down, so that Dean could try to touch him here and there, without Castiel or Sam growing suspicious of his behavior. Dean can’t help it, he knew that he liked Castiel ages ago, but lately it gets harder with each day to keep it a well hidden secret. 

“And you think you can tell me what to do?” Castiel asks finally and - oh shit he is actually lifting his right eyebrow. Dean tries very hard not to wiggle in his seat, but he presses a hand on his covered cock under the table.

“No, but Cas, seriously, what do you even expect?” Dean asks and he hopes that Sam would finally tell Castiel to stay as well. But instead his useless brother eats his fruit salad (yeah you read that right) and pretends to ignore them.

“I expect help, because we need help Dean, whether you like it or not.” Castiel says and he even crosses his arms. Dean pouts a little more obviously. Sadly that doesn’t seem to work on the angel at all.

Great with Sam’s puppy eyes everyone melts, but Dean never has that luck.

“Cas, if you think you need to go, then you should go. Ignore Dean, he’s just jealous.” Sam says and he mutters the last part into his coffee. Dean switches his pout to a glare again, this time hoping his brother would burst in flames from the heat of his glare.

Sam doesn’t.

“Fuck you, Sam.” Dean says but he has to admit Sam is right. Dean is jealous. He hates angels for a lot of things, but the worst thing about them is that they probably are worthy enough for Castiel.

If Castiel wants to date one of them, they would probably make a wonderful pair. Dean swallows. He remembers how Castiel had told him about his kiss with Hannah. Dean had wanted to gank her.

In the end it didn’t matter, because Castiel wasn’t interested in anything but a friendship with Hanna. 

Dean’s thoughts go back to the reaper, who took Castiel’s virginity and he hates that his skin feels too tight every time he thinks about it. He is glad the bitch is dead, but it hurt so bad. 

And he isn’t even talking about how she killed Castiel - that hurt on such a level, Dean still hasn’t come up with words to describe it. But just knowing that Castiel had slept with her and enjoyed it.

Sure the angel always says that gender doesn’t matter to him, since he doesn’t have a gender himself. Dean likes his body (and it’s Cas’ body now, that Jimmy is dead) and he wouldn’t change anything about it.

Dean is bi, he would for sure dig Castiel in a female vessel as well. He isn’t in love with Castiel’s body, he is in love with his… (Angels don’t have souls - dammit). 

Anyway Dean knows that Castiel thinks similar. Castiel loves people for the way they are. Heck, he even kissed a freaking Demon! Dean’s blood boils again, just seeing that had made him so angry.

So Castiel doesn’t care about gender or about entity. That also means... he just doesn’t like Dean.

“I will call you when I’m back.” Castiel says and Dean snaps out of his thoughts. He gets up before he knows it and grabs Castiel’s arm to stop him.

Dean knows normally he could never hold Castiel back, but the angel reacts every single time to Dean’s touches and pretends that Dean is strong enough to stop him.

“Let me come with you.” Dean finally says and Castiel’s eyes widen a bit. Dean tries to smile all sweetly at Castiel, but the angel doesn’t really seem happy. Sam just shakes his head and then leaves them alone.

Traitor.

“Humans aren’t allowed in heaven unless they are dead.” Castiel says and Dean rolls his eyes. What a stupid rule and aren’t rules there to break them anyway? Castiel is already turning around so Dean looks down.

“Please? Cas?” 

He knows it’s kinda unfair to pull that card, but maybe it would work. Castiel does stop at least and he seems to think about it. 

“Okay, but this will be an exception.” Castiel says, but Dean is already too giddy to really listen. He would show the angels that nobody touches Castiel. No matter if it’s with bad or good intentions.

“Wonderful, when do we -”

Dean almost falls to his knees, when they land in some kind of white room. He still hates flying so much and it doesn’t help that this kind of flying doesn’t need a plane. He’s a bit dizzy and looks around.

“Dean?”

Castiel is already at one of a dozen doors and Dean nods. This seems all so weird. He was in heaven a few times before, but he doesn’t really remember it. Even if he could, he was probably not in those rooms.

“God. Not really one for interior design, huh?” Dean chuckles, but Castiel is not laughing, so he stops and then follows the angel into another room. Just as white, just as boring, but there are a dozenangels standing in the middle.

And Dean really means a dozen. Not more.

“Castiel.”

There is a woman with short blonde hair walking over to them and Dean’s eyes widen, when he recognizes Naomi. Holy shit, she looks even scarier with that blonde hair. Dean almost hides behind Castiel.

Almost, because he is Dean fucking Winchester.

“Naomi, Duma.” Castiel answers and Dean wonders why he only greets them. He really hopes Castiel is not interested in one of them. Before Dean can say anything, Naomi comes closer.

“What is he doing here, Castiel? He is not an angel and you can’t just bring your pet.” Naomi hisses and Dean wants to poke out his tongue at her, but she isn’t even looking at him and maybe Dean shudders at the nickname.

“He is my friend and I allowed him here.” Castiel says, almost as if he owns heaven and Dean grins happily at all the other dumb angels. Nobody says anything for a short minute, before Duma walks over.

Dean tries to keep a growl down as she puts her hand on Castiel’s arm. What the fuck. Angels are normally not one for touch. Castiel puts his hand over hers and something stutters in Dean’s chest.

Just as Dean wants to look away, he sees that Castiel puts Duma’s hand away from his arm and he even strokes over his trench coat, as if she left a dark stain there. Dean can’t help his smirk.

“Well we don’t have enough space for the Human.” Some dude says and points at the chairs around the table. Dean huffs loudly. They don’t have a even more stupid argument. Castiel rolls his eyes.

Before Dean knows it, they all sit down and just like the guy said, there is no chair left for Dean. The hunter smirks. Castiel sits at the top of the table and just like that Dean walks over to him.

Naomi sits on the other side of the table and Dean looks her right into her blue eyes, while he sits down on Castiel’s lap. Castiel freezes a bit, when Dean finally sits down, but he doesn’t say anything.

Dean only raises an eyebrow at the other angels. Hoping it gets the message done. He’s Castiel’s… well. Best Friend. 

Dean’s back is pressed against Castiel’s hard chest. Dean suppresses a shudder, but he actually wants to cuddle closer. It’s so damn quiet right now, but there are a lot of glares. 

Luckily Castiel doesn’t seem to be angry with Dean. Instead he puts his arms around him, his hands on Dean’s stomach. Dean holds his breath for just a minute, before he relaxes. He feels better already.

“Okay then let’s discuss our terms. I’m here because I need help to find God.” Castiel starts, acting like Dean isn’t sitting on his lap right now. Somehow that makes something warm spread in Dean’s stomach.

He feels so safe like this, even though there are so many angels around them.

Soon the angels come up with all sorts of plans, but Dean isn’t even listening, he’s just so relaxed right now. He knows that he should pay attention, because he also wants to get God, but also…

Castiel’s thumb is carefully stroking over Dean’s stomach. It’s weird but oh so good.

Dean doesn’t know how long they sit like that, but he gets bored after a while. Naomi is talking again and Dean sees that another angel tries to hide a yawn. Dean wiggles a bit to get comfortable again.

Castiel’s breath hitches and Dean frowns, Naomi’s explanations aren’t that exciting. She is not even telling them something new. Dean knew the angels were useless.

He wiggles again.

This time Castiel puts on hand on Dean’s thigh. The table is covering Dean’s midsection, so the other angels don’t see it, but Dean almost whines, because Castiel’s grip is tight.

Dean waits a few minutes, until he wiggles again. His left leg is falling asleep anyway. This time Castiel growls.

“Dean.” 

It’s just his name, but Dean shudders visible when he hears how Castiel sounds. It sounds so freaking dominant and Dean wants nothing more to submit. While this thought isn’t really a new one, it’s still just as exciting. 

It kinda feels like his personal heaven on Castiel’s lap. Heh, get it?

“Hmhm.” Dean answers and his voice is so soft. Castiel goes back to stroking his stomach and Dean tries his best to be quiet and not to move, but that doesn’t help a lot. 

His view is blurry by now and he wants to nuzzle into Castiel’s neck. He had this feeling before, sometimes after sex. Normally he just leaves the room, clearing his head or… hides under a blanket until it goes away.

But he and Castiel didn’t even have sex, Castiel is just basically cuddling him and still, Dean feels like he is floating away. Dean would at least hope for a handjob right now, but it feels wrong in heaven.

And in front of other people.

Dean wants to show this side only to Castiel, so he sits more up again. Not really knowing how to ask for the things he wants.

Luckily it seems like Castiel knows exactly what Dean is craving right now. He shoves their chair a bit back and then Dean can easily turn around on his lap. He realizes that Castiel is already half hard, when he pushes his hips against him, but they both ignore it. 

Even though Dean’s cock aches.

“As I was saying, we don’t even know his location right now.” Castiel continues as if nothing happened. Dean knows the angels are all still watching them, but he doesn’t have to see their faces like this.

He feels better, but he still needs Castiel closer. So he presses his face against Castiel’s neck, before he closes his eyes. Dean hums quietly.

“What is he doing?” Someone asks, but Castiel ignores them (he is probably staring them down), so Dean ignores the voices too. He just focuses on the good thing around him. Castiel.

He feels a hand in his hair and that helps even more. Castiel continues to strokes through Dean’s hair and Dean rubs his nose against Castiel’s neck.

“Castiel, I think you need to go.” Naomi says, while Dean smiles against Castiel’s skin. There is some weird noise and then it’s quiet again. Seems like Castiel made her finally shut up. 

He hears some people walk away and then Castiel is the one who hums quietly to him. Dean whines when Castiel makes him drink some juice, that tastes like apples, but he finishes it and then goes back to cuddling against Castiel.

“It’s okay Dean. I got you.” Castiel whispers and Dean nods. He knows that. He just wishes he could… could tell Castiel what he feels. Instead he snuggles closer.

“I know I know. All good. I’m here and… and I won’t ever leave, Dean. Not for anyone, my heart already settled on you. My good boy.” Castiel whispers and while Dean hears the words, he isn’t sure if he understands them.  He loves the praise though. “Love you.” Dean mumbles, his heart beating so fast when Castiel says it too.

Castiel presses a kiss to Dean’s hair and smiles, when Dean falls asleep only seconds later. He doesn’t even mind that Dean drools onto his trench coat. 

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel writing #destiel fanfic #my writing #what am I even doing