#please excuse the god aweful quality

[4077thswamprat]

The many (pretty) looks of Alan Alda in Same Time, Next Year (1979)

#please excuse the god aweful quality #vlc was not working with me on this one #alan alda #same time next year #i love the little but butterfly #not mash

[ohheyitsgray]

Iron Lung sketches + some scenes from a discontinued animation

#also hi! sorry its been a while #markiplier #iron lung #tw blood #an ocean of it actually #animation #markiplier fanart #iron lung movie #please excuse the god awful quality of these gifs i promise an attempt was made #gray’s art

[virgincels]

NYMPHOMANIA !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. daddy-daughter incest, femcel reader :3, reader wants to get raped so she talks about that, dub-con for like a paragraph, suicidal thoughts, awful thoughts in general, tiny bit of somno, threats, spanking, slapping

note. HAII :3 back on my femcel shit… god i rewrote this like 15 times and restarted over and over so i hate this 😭 it’s clunky so ignore any mistakes!!! feedback n rbs always so appreciated <3 was thinking of og4 leon but.. honestly idk atp !! anyway sorry again for the slow decrease in quality in this .. title has nothing to do w the fic ack ok bye :3

tumblr removes fics that use, for example, tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

There are two things you want to get off your chest.

You are not, under any circumstances, ugly. Your face just takes getting used to. (This is a cope.)

You have a crush on your dad. No excuse for this one. Cupid is a conniving bastard. That’s that.

These might not seem like related issues, but they most certainly are because being ugly is hard, and having a crush on your dad is equally as hard.

You’re a sweet girl, you didn’t choose to come out ugly, it’s not your fault you turned out this way. It’s unfair, but ultimately no one meant for it to happen

(Well, you hope no one meant for it to happen unless someone had a vendetta against your mother and cursed her firstborn. She’s an irritating lady, you can see why someone would do so.)

You won’t even be the kind of below-average woman who marries a mediocre man to have mediocre sex to make mediocre kids to live in caustic mediocrity. You have one friend, she’s an online friend, and she might be a lonely old man. To be entirely honest you would prefer that. ‘Cause that would mean someone out there wants to creep on you.

If you weren’t ugly, having a crush on your dad would be socially acceptable. That’s why daddy-daughter porn spans pages and pages and pages of Pornhub. Everyone loves to watch a busty, blonde slut on her dad’s dick. If you didn’t have a crush on your dad, being ugly would be perfectly fine— No, that’s wrong.

Being ugly is never fine. Being ugly is on the same level as being a rapist. Being ugly in the presence of people who are objectively not ugly is, like, worse than being a rapist. ‘Cause all the dudes in high school were rapists in the making. Ted Bundy-style shit.

Grope an ugly bitch in the bathrooms and she wouldn’t speak up, and if she did— She just wouldn’t actually. Would be burnt at the stake Salem style. Hung. Crucifixion perhaps. Ugly girls aren’t good enough to die like martyrs did, however. Especially not ugly girls who cry wolf.

Why on God’s green earth would a hot guy go out of his way to slap a freaky-looking girl’s ass, right? Got girls lined up down the halls waiting for him to sign their perky tits, he doesn’t need to rape. It must be wishful thinking on her part, right? A wet dream she took as reality.

Why would you say that? Do you want to throw what he’s worked for down the drain? Accusations like this, they’re not jokes, y’know that? He’s got a scholarship, college wouldn’t take something like this so lightly.

Aw, you miss her. This goth chick in senior year. Your sorta friend. When it all went down and she had nowhere else to go, you invited her over because you’re a nice girl with no nefarious intentions. None at all. When she lay beside you at night, and she opened up, and she thanked you for believing her, you totally did not have your hand in your panties. And you totally did not rub yourself raw while she spoke about it in excruciating detail. You did not treat her rape case as erotica.

The dude got away with it of course. He was on TV the other day in fact. NFL. Baltimore Ravens. Still stupid hot. God, you wish it was you he picked - wouldn’t have told a single soul. Would’ve sucked the sweat from his jockstrap without complaint.

You’re too repulsive to be touched or raped, and you’ve learnt to live with that. Passing out in alleyways would result in rapists who frequent the area to avoid those very alleyways. Only your hand knows the cushiony softness of your tits, the wetness between your legs, how great your mouth feels— Only your dildo knows that, but you can imagine it’s good. You’re a total catch. A nympho. Men love nymphos when they’re pretty, which you are not. So you’re a nympho without the sex appeal. So in other words you are a pervert. A degenerate. A fucking freak.

It’s time to start sticking your fingers down your throat. ‘Cause that’s what gorgeous girls do to achieve that grave-robbed look. Heroin chic. Modelesque. It’s all the same type of beautiful. Emaciated and sickly. Dead girls are the sexiest ‘cause they can’t say yes or no and if there’s no no then it’s a yes. A nymphetic loophole of sorts. Men love dead girls that double as nymphos. Unfortunately, you are well and alive. Walking into traffic seems like fun, but you would be classed as roadkill, and it wouldn’t be tragically beautiful, just embarrassing to get scraped off the concrete like that. Even in death, you would be ugly because you are ugly to your very core. Your bone marrow is so ugly no scientist would want to make stem cells out of it, polynucleotides so deformed— You’re ugly. No need to wax poetic about it. Nothing poetic about being ugly.

Dad is the closest a human being can get to perfection. A divine image. Michelangelo is, like, dead and gone. David should've died alongside him. Dad deserves to take his place in the Accademia Gallery. With the way people gawk at him, he might as well be art. You’re surprised he doesn’t sell tickets to merely exist in his presence. He’s hot like a Calvin Klein model, and mom is hot like a regular model. Due to how you’ve turned out, you have a few qualms with your mother.

Like, what the fuck happened to you in her womb? Did someone take a mallet to one side of her belly to ensure her child came out as asymmetrical as one can be? A lack of nutrients maybe? Was she dieting during the pregnancy? Did dad fuck her too hard? Busted her womb up or some shit.

It simply might be that two rights make a wrong.

Or you were a tester before she popped your siblings out. Little ichor-filled putto. They were child models, scouted in their diapers, and you would stand behind your mother and the cameraman so hurt you couldn’t even feel jealous. Now they’re all grown up, fully-fledged erotes, and they’re working and doing all this shit you still haven’t managed to get a grasp on. Navigating the world as an ugly bitch is terribly hard.

Rape kinks are developed, dads get crushed on - awful, terrible things happen when girls are ugly and alone and unable to leave the comfort of their bedrooms.

Pretty girls have daddy issues that are dealt with in standard pretty girl fashion - finding emotionally unavailable, salt-and-pepper-haired men to fill every hole, including the one in their doll hearts. The thing is pretty girls don’t go for their dads. ‘Cause a lot of the time dads are gross. Dads do not look like your dad does. And to be fair you don’t exactly have daddy issues. Your dad is present and he doesn’t hit or shout or do anything out of the norm. Maybe this is a you issue.

It is a you issue, not even an ugly girl issue or an any type of girl issue. It’s your issue and yours alone.

It is your issue that when Leon asks what you want for dinner you almost ask for his hand around your throat or his hand in marriage. Either would be fine. Both would be preferred.

Severing your relationship would be even better. Goddamn, girls with absent fathers are lucky. You wish he was anything but your dad— It’s just that if you weren’t his daughter, dad wouldn’t ever look your way, he would pass by you like every man does.

Dad is a busy guy, and he’s a strange guy in the sense that he’s never really bothered with you. He loves your sister, and he loves your brother. But everyone loves those two. You don’t think he likes you very much, you can deal with that. Doesn’t mean you have daddy issues ‘cause no one likes you very much. So it’s a you issue and you should try harder.

Leon’s home early today. He’s collapsed on the couch, withered into himself like he always is after business trips. Mom said not to disturb him. You don’t. Then you do. This is like crack to you. Dad.

More specifically, dad without mom hovering over him. Dad’s sleeping so your brain is not stewed by his intense gaze. It only ever lingers on you for merely a second, but your stomach flips like you’ve got appendicitis and your legs spread involuntarily.

He’s a light sleeper, you’re well aware. He’s also a living, breathing Ken doll so you don’t put much thought into it when you reach out to ghost your fingers along the bridge of his nose. So pointy it could pierce your clit. Your clit. His nose. Oh, it could work so well, you want to grind yourself to mush against it.

Until dad shifts, he’s so beautiful up close you almost forget he’s real, not a wax figure. You trace the straight edge of his jaw, then thumb his petal lips, dragging your pointer finger over the fuller bottom one to push the tip into his wet mouth. Your dad is a slut. ‘Cause he sucks for a good second or two. Heat licks at your insides. You might vomit. His spit glistens like cobwebs when you take it back. That hand is shoved down your pants. That finger finds your clit, uses what spit is left to get it nice and wet. Which is totally unneeded, you’ve been soaked since god knows when, your pussy doesn’t know when to quit.

Feels good knowing that a part of dad is in you, his spit pushed into your hole. You’ll give him something back, it’s only fair, you smear your slick on the spot you traced. His tongue pokes out, likely to combat dry mouth, it swipes along his bottom lip— He tastes you. Heat engulfs you, chars your body from the inside out, the scent of rotting meat is in your nostrils.

Dad tasted you.

Holy fuck. You sit there with a trembling smile, staring down at him and he does not rouse. Shit, you’re creepy and you know it, but you’re not stupid. What other chance do you have? You unzip his old shearling jacket, underneath is that compression shirt that fits him too well. You map out the ridges of his abs, the slight dip between his pecs, every hard line that makes up his body. He smells so sexy, lavender and leather, must be some sorta pheromone ‘cause all you want to do is drop your face into his tits to bathe in that scent, to have it stick to your skin. Shit. Holy fucking shit. You’ve got a sex doll instead of a dad. That explains the distantness. He’s made of silicone.

The door clicks the moment you find it in yourself to click open his belt.

“What're you doing?” Mom ruins everything. She’s had it out for you the moment you formed in her womb. “He’s sleeping, don’t disturb him.” She says tersely, placing her Coach Tabby on the coffee table.

“He was cold.” That’s why his nipples are peaking, piercing the fabric of that shirt. Should be illegal to wear that in public. He’s asking for it.

“Yeah?” She asks, unconvinced, bending down to unclasp her heels.

“Yeah.” You stand up, dad’s indirect kiss on your cunt, shoot her a nasty sneer before you scuttle away to your bedroom for the rest of the day.

There are stairs that creak and stairs that don’t. You hang around down here at midnight often so you know the right path to take as to not alert your parents of your presence. They’re speaking about you.

“—be careful around her.” Truly, you hate your mother.

“What is there to be careful about?” Right? You tell her dad.

“Just, just be careful. She doesn’t y’know.”

“She doesn’t what?”

“She doesn’t get off her ass, she doesn’t talk to anyone but, well, I don’t know actually, she doesn’t talk to anyone at all.” You could pretend and say it hurts, but it doesn’t. There’s nothing insulting about the truth.

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“You’re a guy, she doesn't talk to guys.”

“We don’t talk much either.” Dad is too stiff to make conversation, and you collapse anytime he breathes in your general direction.

“Yeah, but, Leon.” Mom sounds exasperated, but she’s not getting her point across well. She should know better, dad’s skull is thicker than cement. “I’m worried.”

“What, for me or her?”

“Her, obviously, I don’t want her to… I want her to get out, like, I want her to do stuff,” mom sniffles, she is so putting this on to make dad feel guilty. “It’s so hard to watch your adult daughter just sit in a room and do nothing all day, Leon, she’s like a big fucking baby, why is she like that?”

“Babe,” he coos, and your knees buckle.

“Go talk to her.”

“What?”

“Go talk to her about it,” Mom repeats, voice shaking. “She doesn’t listen to me.”

They go back and forth for a few minutes, and then dad sighs and says fine. You make haste back to your hovel that doubles as a bedroom, crawl into bed and try to look natural.

Leon clears his throat before he knocks, when you don’t answer he pokes his head in. He says your name and you stir, sheets taut to your body as you peek up at him.

“You should open a window in here.”

When you don’t respond, he sits at the foot of your bed, looks around and nods. His gaze is scathing. Not purposefully. You just take it that way.

“Dinner’s ready,” he lies, then he leaves. His perfume lingers, and you touch the space he was sitting in, his warmth remains.

The day after that, you’re in the living room, tuckered out after mom forced you to help her with the groceries. You’re not cut out for this sort of life. The living sort of life. You were made to rot.

“Door wasn’t locked,” Leon says when he steps in, he puts his keys down, shucks his jacket off, tracks mud halfway down the hall and into the kitchen.

“Your shoes, Leon,” Mom groans, “she came in last.”

“Oh, sorry,” you say absentmindedly. If it doesn’t include tits or dicks or pussy it is none of your business. You have enough energy to keep up with one thing and that is your porn addiction. Groceries really took it out of you.

“You should be careful, rapists might come in, murderers or some shit.” Leon is speaking to your mother. Not you because he has seen your face and he knows very well that an ugly girl like you would survive out of sheer ugliness.

Mom snorts, “I think you’re the scariest thing that could walk through that door, honey.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

You’d like to know what that means too. Well, you get the gist, ‘cause you’ve heard all those stories. Dad and his wandering hands.

“You know what that means.” The sound of lips smacking is enough to have you feeling sick, dizzy as you cling to the walls and make your escape. “Did she leave— Quit it, Leon— Hands off, can you go talk to her, please? Properly this time.”

He forgets to knock this time, or he can’t bother to knock. Dad sits in that same spot, he opens his mouth and closes it about five times.

“Mom’s worried about you,” Leon says robotically. “You good?”

“I’m great.” Your tone is unconvincing, but he clearly doesn’t care enough because you're his dirty little secret. Not in a sex way. You would do anything for it to be in the sex way. Dirty little secret as in the ugly kid he chooses to ignore purely because you’re ugly. Dad doesn’t like ugly girls, you know that. He doesn’t think they’re worth a second glance, even a first glance is too much. Dad is superficial and his love is plastic.

These are all things you’re making up in your head based on assumptions. This is how all attractive men think. Ugly girls aren’t worth rape, dirtying your dick in ugly pussy sounds like a hassle. If you were pretty, you wouldn’t fuck an ugly guy. Even as a self-proclaimed ugly girl, you still wouldn’t fuck an ugly guy ‘cause they’re gross, and it’s not like they want you. Ugly guys shoot high and aim for pretty girls. Duh.

So you get it. Honestly. Whatever. Dad doesn’t like you. That’s okay, you don’t like him as a dad anyway. You love him like an obsessive lover. A hallway crush that stars in your late-night rape fantasies. And you’re fine like this. You’re so fine.

“Can I… Can I actually have a hug, dad?” You muster up what is left in your hollow heart to ask him that. It’s a big deal.

Leon blinks at you, levels you with his blank stare. He’s so handsome you want to blow your brains out, it’s an easy feat because you’re always looking for reasons to blow your brains out. Every straw is your last and yet you’re still here.

“Sure, sweetheart.” Dad opens his arms, and you crawl towards him, head on his shoulder as his arms loop around your waist. Oh, god, you will your heart into giving out. Dying right here in dad’s arms is ideal.

He holds you so gently it’s brutal. He crushes you with the weight of his loveless love. Dad’s so good at pretending you almost think he cares.

“Can you… I want to stay like this.”

“Uh, sure, sweetheart,” Leon calls everyone sweetheart. Sweetheart is his default. Sweetheart ranges from Auntie Ashley to babysitters to lifeguards and retail workers who aren’t getting paid enough to deal with some old man making eyes at them. Not that anyone minds dad’s attention. It’s fucking unfair. Mom is babe, and your sister is baby, and your brother is buddy or sport or tiger or whatever shit he pulls out of his ass. And you’re sweetheart because you’re not important to him. His firstborn daughter is not important to him ‘cause she’s ugly. More of a specimen than a human.

You would do anything to keep him here.

“Dad?” You whisper into his neck.

“…Yeah?”

“I want you to…” Your lack of life flashes in front of your eyes. Bedroom. Bedroom. Porn. Bedroom. Porn. Porn. Dad. Not much. What have you got to lose? “I want to— I want to fuck you.”

Dad is silent. Then: “Oh.” He never makes the move to pull away, so you sit snugly in his grip for a few seconds longer.

“I— Dad, I touch myself thinkin’ about you.” Your stomach ties itself into a Gordian knot.

“Yeah, okay, why don’t we— Yeah, fuck, I see what she meant, okay. Wow, that’s a lot. Sweetheart, why… Listen.” Dad says a whole lot of nothing as he takes your hands off him.

“Please… I love you, dad. I really like you— I know it’s weird, dad, I do, seriously, I know, but please I just… I just like you.” There is no explanation for it. “Dad… Daddy.”

He full-on winces. It’s like you’re being flayed. Something inside of you just— Just shatters. Not your heart ‘cause it’s pumping more blood than it ever has. Fragments of your sanity splinter into even smaller segments until there is nothing left but nauseating levels of mental disturbance.

“If you don’t…”

“You seriously trying that right now?” Leon scoffs, and he’s so cocky you get hot under the collar.

(Between your thighs too, but that’s a different story.)

“Yeah, I’m serious— If you don’t… If you don’t do it- do it with me, I’ll tell mom you… I’ll tell her you raped me.” In actuality, you would never tell mom if daddy raped you. You would treasure it, keep it in a heart-shaped locket and think about it when you get off twelve times a day. Getting your pussy reamed by dad’s cock would fix you right up.

“Don’t— Are you okay?” Leon smacks your hand away, his tone is even.

“You do it too— I know you’ve done it, I know how you and mom met.”

His face drains, pallor yellowish. “That don’t… That’s different.”

“How is that any different?” Different ‘cause he’s hot and mom is hot. Leon passed it off as a drunken mistake and they end up getting together. It’s not rape if the perpetrator is a hottie. You agree, but still— It’s not fucking fair.

“‘Cause I didn’t do this.” Leon gestures abstractly.

You kiss him, hands braced on each of his tits, digging your fingers into the meat to feel him tense and harden like he’s wearing a chest plate. “You’re so hot dad,” you whine into his mouth, and Leon is quick to push you off, your wrists in his hands. Makeshift handcuffs.

“Listen, sweetheart,” Dad is using his dad voice. It’s like porn to you, only makes you wetter. “I don’t like hitting girls, but you’re givin’ me a damn good reason.”

“You can hit me, daddy.” You offer your face to him, stretching your neck forward, closing your eyes as you wait for the impact. It lands firm on your cheek, his fingertips catching the tip of your nose. Fuck that felt good. Shit. You think you’ve creamed your panties. “Again, dad, hit me again—“ He does. Harder than the last time. Your head knocks backwards, and your brain must have a dent in it.

Dad puts you over his lap and you’re so sure you’ve entered the pearly gates. Or the innermost circle of hell. Probably that ‘cause Jesus Christ are you steaming.

“I hate stupid little sluts that try it out on me,” Leon drags your sweats over the swell of your ass, “Do you have a dick?”

“What, dad— No!” You tell him, more mortified at his question than you are by your bare ass under his palm. Fuck— You’re so wet it’s disgusting, dripping down your thighs and surely staining his lap. Thick like treacle.

“No? Were you gonna rape dad with this stupid cunt?” Oh, you hope he spanks your pussy. Porn makes it look delicious. “You look like you might have a dick with that face of yours.” He traces the seam of your cunt through your panties. “Or is your pussy just fat?”

Good fucking lord.

“Dad…” You arch into him, only to have a hand come down on your left ass cheek. One. Two. Three. They all hurt bad as each other. Four. “Ouch!” That one hurt real bad. Five. You feel like a naughty child. This is not as hot as you thought it would be. More dull and embarrassing. Not even the good kind of embarrassing.

Leon puts you on your knees, the hand wrapped around your jaw forces your lips into a pout, and you think he is going to kiss you— God, you close your eyes and wait for it, lean into him, shit you’d pop your leg if you were standing up. He spits in your face and it trickles down the bridge of your nose.

“Got me dirty with that filthy pussy.” Dad speaks offhandedly, he speaks to you like you’re dog shit. Not dog shit stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Just dog shit on the side of the road. Like the sort that bothers you enough to complain about it, but it doesn’t ignite any real anger.

His hand remains tight on your jaw, then he drops it to fish his fat cock from his pants to slap the drippy head on your cheek. The sound ricochets off the walls. Hits you like a bullet. Holy fuck. Dad really just did that. You giggle, batting your lashes up at him as pretty as an ugly girl can, and he grimaces so it can’t be pretty.

“Christ, you nasty fuck,” Leon snickers at the look on your face, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Daddy,” you whimper, nosing the tip of his dick, he smells so good you want him in your mouth, “I jus’ love you lots.”

“God, I hate ugly little freaks like you.” He said that already, no need to rub it in. Another slap of his cock on your face. Your heart beats for him and him alone. “You know what I think?” Dad guides his cock into your warm mouth. “Shit, that’s good— I think your mom is a liar.”

His dick is all you’ve ever wanted. It’s heavy on your tongue, though the longer you suckle on the tip, the weightier it gets, and he’s wet. Dripping all over the place. You must get that gene from your dad.

“‘Cause I don’t think,” he grunts, palm resting on your forehead to push you off his shaft, “I don’t think I could make a kid this ugly.”

“No,” you say breathlessly, “No, you’re my dad, my daddy.” Crouched down below him, you lave over his balls, putting more effort into this than you have done with anything else in your life. Gargling dad’s balls is your best work. Nothing else you have to be proud of.

Your pussy is pulsing, shit has its own heartbeat, you drop your hand down to soothe your poor cunt, rubbing figure eights into the bulge of your clit over your panties. It’s not enough, you push them to the side, your fingers slip a couple times, not enough, only dad’s fingers are enough, only his cock will plug up your leaking hole.

“Get off me,” dad instructs, and you might be glued to him, but you detach yourself immediately. “C’mon, stand up.” You use his thighs as leverage, standing on shaky legs that threaten to give out at any second. He takes your shirt off. “Cute tits gone to waste,” dad sighs like it’s heartbreaking. “We could've done something about it, y’know? Could fix your face right up, just had to ask daddy.”

“Really, dad? I want to be pretty, daddy, I want to be pretty for you, you never call me pretty— Daddy, I want to be pretty, please.” You clasp his shirt, and he brings you into his lap once more, raising your legs to slide your panties down so you’re free bleeding on his lap. Free bleeding without the blood. Just good old pussy.

“Messin’ with you, sweetheart, can’t fix that dog face,” dad coos to you tenderly, and the plain-as-day insult flies right over you. Dad could get you to sell both your kidneys if he keeps talking to you like that. “Just gotta live with it.”

You have. You have lived with it. That’s what you do. Live with your ugly face. You could die, that’s an option, but you choose to wait it out. ‘Cause dying is pretty scary no matter how much you want it. And Leon’s dick is hard beneath your pussy so there are things to live for. The world isn’t all cruel.

“Up,” he taps your lower back, you raise your hips and he presses his cock to your stretched hole. Toy after toy after toy. All to ready yourself for dad. When you sink down on him, your body convulses. It’s the sweet release of death. Or an orgasm. Fuck. Dying on dad’s cock is— You haven’t died on his dick, he fucks you through your high, feet planted firmly on the ground as he thrusts upwards, dick angled just right.

Heroin is meant to be good. You’ve seen Trainspotting. Better than any cock— You don’t believe that for a minute. Unless he’s leaking smack straight into your pussy, numbing your walls. Could be that ‘cause god— You’re not really thinking, not that you think much, when you decide to shove your fingers into his mouth.

“Daddy, can you taste me?” You ask him, giving a languid grind of your hips down onto his cock, you regret it immediately ‘cause it’s so good your cunt squelches loudly. “Do you taste me, dad? Dad—“

“Yeah,” Dad says, muffled, “Shoving your fingers down my fuckin’ throat, you little psycho, ‘course I taste it.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Daddy looks so pretty with his lips wrapped around your fingers, you fuck them in and out of his pink mouth, his tongue runs along the length of your fingers like he’s sucking a nice cock. Treating your fingers better than you did his dick.

Daddy’s splitting you in two. He fucks you without a care in the world. ‘Cause he doesn’t care about you. One-time-use pussy. You’re disposable like the gloves you get with box dye. Like a plastic spork. His cock is so deep he might as well tear open your middle and fuck your guts. Leon grabs your hips, forces you up and drops you down. The air in your lungs has no time to build up— You grasp at his shirt, bouncing in his lap like you’re a fleshlight, and you would be so happy with that title. Dad’s personal fleshlight. It makes you giddy.

Leon’s cock twitches inside of you, when he lifts you off of him, your pussy clings to the tip, holding on for dear life, insistent on milking daddy’s dick, taking every drop of his cum.

“Daddy…” Your head drops to his shoulder. “Please, daddy, am I pretty? Can you call me pretty?”

His hips stutter, and you don’t have to see his face to know he hesitates. It’s a struggle to call a girl like you pretty. “You’re so pretty, sweetheart.” Then he dumps his load so deep— So deep, you warm to the thought of having your daddy’s baby. You already fucked so why not go the extra mile?

Dad doesn’t kiss you, but he lays you down and tucks you in like he never has before. “Your mom’s worried.” He goes back to the topic at hand and you groan, covering your face with a pillow. “Hey, we can, uh…” Leon scratches his head. “We can y’know…” He shrugs, glances down at you. “Can do that if you try pulling your weight a little.”

The promise of your dad’s cock is enough to have you applying for every job in a thirty-mile radius. Dad’s cock is a fix for an ugly girl like you. You’ve got a pussy only your daddy could love, and you think you’re more than okay with that.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you

[svltzmans]

out of the woods - h.m.

a/n: i'm back with longer fics again! i was in a bit of a dry spell with inspiration but i'm finally getting back to it! you might be asking "lizzie will you ever stop naming your stories after taylor swift songs?" and the answer is no ❤️

warnings: smut (18+), kinda angsty? but not really, hope has her humanity off for a bit and her and reader are exes (but not for long), this is very very soft and the smut is pretty tame lmao, i didn't edit this at all

"you're just not the person i fell in love with anymore."

the moment y/n broke up with hope was still a blur. hope's humanity shutdown was rough on everyone involved, but she never would have expected losing the love of her life over it.

at the same time, she understood. now that she had her humanity on, she realized how coldhearted she had become and the way she treated y/n reflected her lack of sympathy.

it hadn't took long for hope to realize that she had made a huge mistake. sure, she had little control over the way she acted when her humanity was off. regardless, she still mistreated y/n and lost her in the process.

y/n knew that she loved hope, and she was sure that she could cope with her supernatural qualities, including her occasional lack of humanity.

however, y/n quickly realized having humanity-less hope as a girlfriend was harder than she had imagined.

any kind of affection from her girlfriend was almost entirely out of the question. it felt like the person she loved had disappeared, and it was too much to handle.

ever since the breakup, hope had been determined to win y/n back. she understood that the trust between them had diminished and it would be hard to show y/n that her recent behavior was behind her.

y/n was apprehensive when she interacted with hope. she wasn't cold, but she certainly wasn't warm either. she just didn't believe that hope truly had turned her humanity back on, knowing that a vampire with their humanity off could be beyond tricky and manipulative.

a major part of her believed that hope would never do anything to hurt her, humanity or not, but she just couldn't take that risk.

hope had tried to open up to y/n about her humanity and tell her that she was truly back, but y/n would just brush her off.

"i just need more time," she would say, and hope would solemnly nod in understanding.

eventually, hope couldn't cope with y/n's indifference any longer.

"y/n, please just talk to me."

y/n finally agrees to sit down with hope, avoiding eye contact with her ex-girlfriend.

"please look at me, y/n. i miss you so much. i know i was awful to you."

y/n reluctantly looks up, locking eyes with hope.

"how do i know it's really you, hope? how can i believe you?"

hope can't help but feel hurt by y/n's lack of trust, but she knows she would feel the same way if she was in y/n's position.

"i've spent every minute of every day thinking about you, y/n. you are everything to me and it kills me that i hurt you so badly. i wasn't myself and i know that's not an excuse. but god y/n, i miss you so much. and i'm so sorry."

y/n softens at hope's words, realizing that she was being genuine.

"i miss you too. and i'm sorry for blowing you off. i guess i was just scared. i know you wouldn't hurt me. i just couldn't bring myself to talk, i didn't know if you were actually back or not."

"i'm here, y/n. and i'm never going away again."

hope tentatively brings her face closer to y/n's, waiting for a reaction.

when she doesn't get one, she presses her lips to y/n's.

when hope finally pulls away after what feels like an eternity, y/n wraps her arms around her tightly.

"i'm so glad you're here, hope. really here. i missed you."

hope melts into y/n's arms, allowing her head to rest on her shoulder.

"hope?"

"yeah?"

"be mine again. please."

hope doesn't respond, opting to kiss y/n again instead.

hope is gentle in every sense of the word, her hand gently resting on y/n's cheek, gently coaxing her to lay down.

she takes her time, wrapping her arms around y/n as she kisses her.

hope toys with the wastline of y/n's sweatpants, running her fingers over her stomach.

"may i?" she asks tentatively, looking deeply into y/n's eyes as she awaits her response.

"thought you'd never ask," y/n laughs quietly before attaching her lips to her girlfriend's once more.

hope's touch remains gentle as she dips below y/n's underwear. she studies y/n's face carefully, ensuring that she is completely okay with what she's doing.

"that's my girl. always doing so good," hope coos, listening to y/n's gentle whines.

when y/n falls over the edge, she wraps herself around hope again, wanting to be as close to her as possible.

hope holds y/n for some time, running her hand over her back.

just when hope thinks y/n has dozed off, she hears her sleepily mutter something in her ear.

"i love you."

hope wasn't sure if she would ever hear y/n say that again, and she feels relief flooding her whole body at her words.

"i love you so much, y/n."

#hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson x reader #wlw #legacies #legacies x reader #hope mikaelson x fem reader #the originals x reader #hope mikaelson fic #hope mikaelson imagine #hope mikaelson smut #hope mikaelson x fem! reader

[shaunamilfman]

Dating Shauna Shipman (Part 3)

pre-crash headcanons

she would not like cutesy couple names. Shauna would straight up pretend not to hear you “what? did you say something? I didn't hear my name??”. she would accept a nickname based on her name, but that’s as far as she’s willing to go

she really enjoys parallel play. i think quality time is definitely one of her love languages, and she loves to just be in the same room with you

thinking about laying in Shauna’s arms while she gently caresses my head. she’d hold you so close to her body that you can’t tell whose limb is whose

Shauna warms up canned soup for you when you’re sick. I don't think Shauna’s very nurturing by nature, but she always seems to take care of those she loves. (except for that one time. rip Jackie lmao). thinking about gently falling asleep while she’s reading aloud from her book. 

she would definitely get herself sick though. imagine showing up at school the next day to find out that she’s home sick now instead

Shauna would probably avoid you if she ever got really mad at you. she’s very violent by nature and i think she’d worry a lot about what she would say/do to you if she lost her temper badly enough. she would never physically hurt you, but i think she’s definitely said some really hurtful things she didn’t mean in the heat of the moment. she has such a hot anger that it blinds her sometimes.

i think she would give really well thought out and meaningful apologies if she really did something wrong. she would pull away after doing the hurtful thing and i think she would spend a lot of that time reflecting on why she did it and why it was wrong before coming back to you.

Shauna is such a god awful liar. she tries to lie to you about where she’s going and gives ridiculous excuses. “Oh are you going somewhere, Shauna? Can I come?” Shauna who’s trying to throw you off as she’s going to buy your birthday present just panicking and telling you she’s going to visit her grandma. You’re sitting there like “Isn’t she dead?” 

Shauna strikes me as the type to listen to indie music and be super fucking pretentious about it. Shauna “oh you’ve probably never heard of them, they’re super underground” Shipman. get ready for line-by-line lyric breakdowns. isn’t she dreamy?

sleeping over at Shauna's and getting accused of reading Shauna's journal after she knocked it off the nightstand in her sleep. 

"Did I read your journal??? I don't know how anyone could read your journal. Your handwritings fucking atrocious."

Shauna gets drunk at a party and gets upset at you for knowing other girls. She's so embarrassed about it she won't look you in the eyes for days after. She mentions hanging out with Jackie and you’re like “Oh? You know other women?” She just blushes and walks away as you’re laughing. 

She’d pretend to be mad because she likes when you fake grovel. Dramatically falling back on your bed like “If there’s any goodness left in the world please let Shauna forgive me!”. Peeking an eye open to see if she’s still watching and she’s pretending to frown but her lips are twitching up.

#bet yall thought i was kidding when i said i could do this all day lol #shauna shipman x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you

[starstruck-flames]

Please can we go see the Barbie movie?? - Villains headcanons (+ Hawks)

Dabi:

“What the fuck- why?!” “Because I want to.”

He thinks on it for a few days, he probably doesn’t want to go but… you want to, and it’s not a luxury you often have.

“I’m not wearing fucking pink.” “Okay but I am.” “Whatever. …Make sure it at least looks hot.”

You’ve got on the 90s flames somewhere on that outfit of yours. Probably showing off a bit of skin too, a nice piece of eyecandy for him while you enjoy your snacks and movie.

…Okay this is very bright.

“Do you guys ever think about death” 100% catches him off guard but he secretly loved that line.

He’s a little invested in the plot.

Mostly in your outfit tho-

He has fun! Even if it’s mostly bugging you while you’re enthralled in the movie.

Favourite character? Sasha.

Shigaraki:

He’s a liiiittle more immediately willing to see the movie. It looks funny and he’s more than willing to use “awe man my PARTNER really wanted to go” as an excuse.

You’re not getting him to match you though.

Okay fine he’ll wear ONE (1) pink accessory. Probably a pin but it’s for you, and he’s a fan of you and making you happy.

You on the other hand went FULL out, full pink, holding the gloved hand of your emo ass partner. “✨ Two tickets to the Barbie movie please! 🥰” while the poor cashier is getting death stares from your man.

It’s very bright and happy huh. Some of the jokes are lost on this man, he’s just enjoying the calmness of being at a cinema with you!

Haha Ken’s pretty funny, what a loser-

Wait.

He glances between Ken and you. Oh god.

Is he Ken?!

Though, that’s more of a paranoid thought. While you’re simply perfect and part of his life, it’s obvious he has much more of a life than just pleasing you.

He can’t help but kiss your hand during the movie, smiling towards you fondly. It’s a rare soft moment, one you don’t understand but this stupid movie and this sticky floored cinema means everything to him right now because it’s a calm with you.

(He loves Allen.)

Twice:

“BARBIE?! FUCK YEAH” “FUCK NO!”

He would be… so into this idea. He’s 100% wearing something pink. Earlier seasons? He can’t wear much due to needing to keep his head covered but he’ll work with the accessories. Later seasons? FULL PINK. Man found the cowboy hat he refuses to not wear the cowboy hat.

Unironically he loves Barbie land. Why can’t he be a sentient doll that never needs to eat or sleep and can have girls night every night?

“Wouldn’t you be a Ken?” “Nah, definitely a Barbie.” He’s your Barbie ❤️

Actively boos at the real world in the movie. Barbie is the only redeeming quality of the real world.

At first the themes of the movie go over his head completely, he’s just here for the shenanigans/snacks.

Halfway through the movie he seems to get a bit more invested. Wait- the Barbie movie has a message?!

Oh it has a message.

He’s 100% bawling at the Barbie movie.

He’s changed his mind, he loves being human and holding your hand and feeling these intense emotions towards the stupid doll movie. He loves this stupid doll movie, he won’t stop crying.

Favourite character? The Mattel board members, especially Will Ferrel’s character.

Toga:

“REALLY?? REALLY WE CAN GO? YEAAHHH BARBIE MOVIE IM STEALING THE CUTEST CLOTHES!!”

You’re perfectly matched. It’s the most coordinated set of outfits of all time.

She’s 100% snuggled into your arm regardless of relationship. She’s always wanted to go to the movies with the people she loves!

Barbie is so pretty…

Though, Toga is particularly interested in Ken and Barbie having this odd dynamic of Ken being interested and Barbie being… not so interested.

She worries that maybe her love for others is eclipsing her personality but…

Toga had learned a lot from the LOV, she’s her own person. Always growing. Being with everyone is just a bonus, a huge one.

She LIVES for all the music. I personally believe she’s a CharlieXCX fan-

Favourite character? Gloria. She’s a good, tired mom. Toga would have loved to have a mom like her!

Hawks:

He’s surprisingly agreeable to the idea of seeing it “once it comes out.”

What the dick doesn’t tell you is that he was invited to the premier, and so are you now.

He’s such a show off. He’d paid for you both to have accurate Barbie and Ken fits. It’s a complete surprise to you as you whisper into his ear that if he ever does this again? You’re stealing his credit card and fleeing the country.

Though, for now? The very fancy popcorn (in its biggest serving size) will be enough for your forgiveness.

Past the awkward encounter of dealing with the *pink* carpet, it’s a pretty regular movie date. You get a good spot, in a mostly empty cinema with plenty of snacks.

He’s not the most into this movie, but he mostly enjoys glancing over to you to see how you’re reacting to it.

That and he bought a big hot dog. Normally he’s not supposed to indulge in lower quality foods but lord, it hits a spot.

Ken’s plight is very funny to him.

He also highly appreciates the props, they just look neat.

Admittedly he’s looking at the Mattel higher ups in the movie, he knows it’s meant to be exaggerated but they remind him of the commission.

After the movie? He’s taking you home to really… really appreciate that barbie outfit he got you.

Favourite character? Weird Barbie. I won’t elaborate.

#dabi #mha headcanons #dabi headcanons #dabi mha #bnha shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki headcanons #mha toga #bnha toga #toga headcanons #twice #twice fluff #mha twice #barbie #barbie movie #bnha hawks #mha hawks #hawks headcanons

[sunflower-snz]

Secret Santa: @zensations35

Hey Zen! :D You got me as your secret santa this year, hopefully this’ll be up to your standards, I had some pretty big boots to fill. Now I’ve never written male snz before so please excuse the quality. We’ve a few avengers featuring at the beginning of this then we go very Loki focused at the end for you. Hopefully this’ll be enjoyable to read :D

Under the cut: MAINLY male snz, tiny snippet of female sprinkled in, slight contagion but nothing too major :)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Had he known this were to happen, Loki really wouldn’t have bothered going to that god damn party.

It had all started a week ago, Clint Barton had just returned from a week-long stake out overseas, it was a valuable mission. One he completed well. But it wasn’t just a new report of the bases’ ongoing activities which the archer had been kind enough to bring home with him.

“HaH! HH’aETSCHOO!” He barrelled forwards, the edges of his unnaturally red nose twitching as he held a calloused hand lazily in front of his face in apprehension for the next. Not that he did a job of covering up his first one.

“Christ Clint, cover your mouth.” The redheaded spy seated at the end of the table retorted, her usually stoic face cringing at the sound of the thick wet sniffles that he gave in response. He sounded awful. Of course, she had sympathy for her partner, but that sympathy was buried by the urge to violently hurl a box of tissues in his general direction. She did not want to catch that.

Who could blame her really? Everyone was thinking it. Shared glances and hushed whispers made their way round the dining table. Nobody wanted to be the person to say that Clint should probably have been curled up in bed instead of sat sharing (more than) breakfast with the team but as it was his first day back, exceptions were made.

Boy did people really come to regret that. It had taken, what was it, 12 hours? For the second pair of sniffles to be heard in the tower. Tony, sat in his lab, looked up from the mess of wires he has been working on soldering to see Bruce swiping a quick finger beneath his nose. A very recognisable, pre-sneeze look clouding his features. God damn it, Barton! The genius thought to himself, realising that maybe sharing a meal with a man too tired to be bothered about the consequences sharing his germs probably wasn’t the greatest idea in hindsight.

“Damn, hIh- It.” It seems his lab partner was thinking the same thing as his head reared backing, with yet another hitching breath. Then another.. And another. “Hah- Fuck.” Now Bruce wasn’t one to swear but this was an exception. He needed to sneeze, he could feel it right there! Just in the bridge of his nose, but it wouldn’t quite- “Hhh..HAH-”

Suddenly he drew in a loud inhale, more so resembling someone taking in a long deep breath before diving into water. But this wasn’t for holding his breath. The scientist suddenly found his body diving forward with a loud, desperate, “GHAH’CHH! HaH’HTSHOO!”

Barton was clearly more contagious than he thought. Shit.

Maybe had this cold had come at an opportune time, when things were less busy, people wouldn’t had been so annoyed, but this coming Friday was the date of Stark’s annual holiday party. Something the genius was not planning on missing. Some would say that Stark parties over the top. Tony preferred ‘extravagant.” Whatever they were, they were always a big deal. Fully stocked bar, music, dancing. The whole deal. And a Stark party would never, could never, be postponed, the mere thought of it went against his entire ideology. It was an insult to him personally for anyone to even suggest such an action. No. This party would be going ahead. With full attendance.

Sniffles or not.

Day’s passed yet no-one seemed to be improving. Barton had finally retired to his bedroom in an attempt to prevent thing’s being shared further but it was a little too late for that. Pepper also already begun to sniffle last night, Bruce was currently sat surrounded by a pile of tissues in his lab and even Cap had begun clearing his throat intermittently. Tony could swear he felt his throat tickle every now and then – that might’ve just been hypochondria though. But regardless, now wasn’t the time for sickness. There were things that needed celebrating and tonight they would.

Loki hadn’t even been planning to attend the event in the first place. Why would he? Sure, he may be at the point where he was civil with most of the Avengers by now but “frolicking around with that pretentious asshole”, the asshole in question needing no introduction, was not how he wanted to spend him evening.

“Come on, you know you enjoy it really!” It was only after several hours of nagging from Thor that he finally agreed to trouble himself with the effort of attending. If anything, his attendance was only to please his brother - definitely not the promise that he would have full unrestricted access to the open bar.

The night of Stark's annual holiday party arrived, and the Tower was transformed into a dazzling spectacle of lights, music, and laughter. The atmosphere was alive with celebration, and even those who were feeling under the weather couldn't resist the allure of the extravagant event. Not that they had much choice anyway.

Loki, clad in his customary green and gold attire, stood at the edge of the crowded room, observing the festivities with a detached interest. He quickly downed a drink he’d swiped from the doorman’s desk and allowed himself into the bustling crowd, leaving the empty glass on a random table as shifted through the masses. He’d almost made it over to his brother but was interrupted with a sudden slap on the back.

“Enjoying the party?" Came the still slightly Coarse voice of a seemingly now more energetic Clint. The day he’s spent resting seemingly reviving his energy.

The God raised an eyebrow, acknowledging the archer with a nod. "As much as one can enjoy these mortals' festivities." He shifted, noticing the man’s slightly rough appearance. Do these people really not clean themselves up for special events? Typical. He tsk’d to himself

Clint chuckled, seemingly unfazed by Loki's disdain. "Well, they know how to throw a good party. You should try the drinks; they're divine."

Loki smirked, intrigued despite himself. "Divine, you say? I may indulge in a taste." He quipped, taking the drink from the man’s and swigging it before he had a chance to interject.

It wasn’t like he’d be able to warn him much anyway. Clint suddenly sneezed without warning. The unexpected spray catching both of them off guard.

“HhHAHTSCHOO!“

"Gah! Sorry about that," Clint apologised, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, “Still a little under the weather I guess.” He sniffled to himself, before being called away from someone, leaving the God revelling in genuine disgust.

“Christ,” Loki muttered to himself, taking off his spray-speckled blazer and groaning in repulsion, “This jacket costs most then your entire outfit and you have to nerve to sneeze on it?” He mumbled to himself, shaking his head with a sigh. Mortals. Their lack of manners never seemed improve.

Maybe if he’d gone home at that point, he still could’ve escaped unharmed. But no, he just had to get and get himself another drink – he deserved one another dealing with that -. Afterall he did come here to enjoy himself.

The god made his way through the crowd, eyes rolling at some of the terrible dancing he saw from the playboy genius on his way. People really looked up to this guy?

He approached the bar, sliding onto one of the pristine white stools tucked into the counter, “Can I get a larg-” He began, but the redhead stood behind the bar held up a silent finger, stopping him in his tracks as a hazed expression shifted her features, making her eyelashes flutter rapidly.

“Ih’shIEW! Hup’TSHH! Hih!-Hh-IshHh’tSHU!” Her small frame seemed to helplessly curl in on herself as she bent at the waist while simultanously turning away to catch her sneezes into her hands. She coughed a little as she straightened herself back up.

“Do egxcuse me.” Her voice was flooded with congestion. Natasha dared to sniffle before pulling out a napkin from somewhere. How did spies always seem to have hidden pockets in every outfit he wondered to himself, not that he was jealous or anything. Magic would always superior for making things appear and disappear without a trace but for a human, she did a pretty good job at keeping things discreet. She held the napkin to her nose, and he looked away. Clearly she was embarrassed around the whole thing. Normally he would’ve taken advantage of that, even found it somewhat comical, but 2-drink Loki was a bit of a softie. Especially when the usually tough-unbreakable Natasha Romanoff looked as if though she was about to crumble.

She blew her nose quietly and cleared her through but this time different voice spoke as he looked up from his drink. “I told you that you should’ve stayed in bed.” Maria purred softly, coming round to slink her arms around the Nat’s waist, pulling her closer from behind as she too seemingly also appeared from nowhere, “You’re not one to get sick, I don’t want you exhausting yourself.”

How cute they looked. Maybe too cute. Loki didn’t want to be deliberately rude but this little moment was getting a little too sappy for his likings. The God cleared his throat loudly,, bringing both women back to the present moment, “Mind if I take that drink now?”

Maria rolled her eyes, releasing Natasha and stepping back. "Fine, fine. Get him his drink so he doesn't feel neglected," she said, giving Loki a wry smile before pressing a soft kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek.

“The usual?” The redhead asked, not really needing an answer and her nose still twitched a little as she began to pour a dark coloured liquid into a crystallised glass. Oh? He quirked a raised eyebrow in surprise at her remembrance of how he takes his drinks. “Thank you.” Loki smirked before taking a sip of the drink that had been slided infront of him. He would’ve stayed to talk a little longer – truthfully he liked the company of the girls a lot more than he did some of the others – but he was soon whisked away when Thor came over, wearing an alcohol fuelled smile.

“Brother! You came.” He called loudly, raising his glass into the air as he pulled the God away from the bar and towards the group of older men loudly laughing and flaunting their old stories of victory, “You must tell them of our time on Crumelia!” He cheered, referencing the planet the two had visited together a few months prior.

The night wore on with laughter, music, and a myriad of conversations. Loki found himself drawn into Thor's tales of heroism and adventure, the alcohol making the stories more entertaining than he would care to admit. The atmosphere of the party did have a certain charm, he begrudgingly acknowledged.

As the night reached its peak, Loki eventually excused himself from the lively group, citing the need for a moment of solitude. He retreated to a quieter corner of the room, nursing his drink as he observed the chaotic dance floor. The revelry continued around him, but he felt a growing fatigue.

Eventually, the party began to wind down, and guests started to make their way home. Thor had offered out their spare-room for the God so instead of filtering out with the rest of the attendee’s he stayed behind until it was only the Avengers left.

They had huddled into a group now, all nursing their last drinks of the night. Well, nearly all of them. Natasha had already fallen asleep against Maria’s, her mouth hanging slightly open as she snored quietly - much to the earlier vast assusment of everyone at seeing their resident spy finally acting like a true human being for once. Loki couldn’t help but join in as they all continued to laugh and share stories. Of course Thor had brung out his hammer, as he always does, encouraging the others to finally see if they were worthy enough to wield it.

The alcohol that had fueled his earlier enthusiasm now served as a heavy lullaby, coaxing him towards the realm of sleep. The laughter and camaraderie of the Avengers became a distant hum as he excused himself from the group, citing the need for rest. Thor, still in high spirits, clapped a hand on Loki's shoulder. "Rest well, brother! We shall regale you with tales of today's merriment in the morning."

With a nod and a faint smile, Loki made his way to the guest room assigned to him. The Tower, now quieter and dimly lit, felt strangely peaceful. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the remnants of the party.

The bed, though not the grandeur of his Asgardian chambers, looked inviting. Loki undid the clasps of his elaborate attire, letting the green and gold fabric fall to the floor. The room was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth of the festivities. Maybe the night hadn’t been so bad after all.

Well. That’s what he thought atleast. Until he woke up the next morning.

Loki awoke to a pounding headache and a throat that felt like it had been scorched by fire. He groaned, burying his face into the pillow as he attempted to ignore the discomfort. The room, once serene, now seemed to spin with every movement.

Still, he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom, ignoring the disheveled state of his room. The reflection in the mirror revealed a pale and weary god, a far cry from the composed trickster he usually presented to the world. The remembrance of the previous night’s music and laughter seemed to mock his misery. With each step, he felt weaker, his body aching and chilled and his chest rumbled with a deep, rattling cough. Stupid mortal germs!

He cursed them out, but before he could utter anymore foul words against anyone, his nose itched. A wild tickle, causing his jaw to go slack, fruitless to fight against it, “HAh'tsCHIEW! HHUh-Hah’ESHOO! Heh'gnXNNT! Guh...” He sniffled wetly, grimacing at the feeling of thick congestion already beginning to settle in his sinsues.

As he swayed there in place, contemplating the unfairness of his situation, he was once again helpless to the burning itch in his sinuses. "Hah'KSHIEW!” Ugh, curse these wretched germs," he grumbled, his frustration growing. The once-mighty god now felt as vulnerable as any mere mortal and that alone made him feel 10x worse.

He was Loki! A trickster! A God! And yet here he was, shivering and sniffling through his stuffed up nose like such... such.. such a weakling! With a drasted sigh, he humbled himself and resigned to the fact this was just something he was going to have to get through. He grabbed a box of tissues and blew his nose, the sound echoing in the quiet room making him cringe at himself. He hated this.

Throughout the day, Loki's condition deteriorated further. Sneezes punctuated his every attempt to gather his bearings, each one a reminder of his weakened state. The once proud and regal god found himself reduced to a pitiful figure, wrapped in a blanket on the couch in one of the many communal areas of the the tower, a book in hand, with tissues strewn around him like confetti. His nose was raw from constant wiping, and his eyes were red and watery as he tried to make sense of the words infront of him.

"Hah'KSHIEW! Hhih! Hh..Hah'PTSHIEW! Ugh, this is insufferable," Loki muttered to himself as he turned the page. The trickster god, usually quick-witted and sly, now sniffled pathetically as he tried to regain some semblance of composure. He couldn’t even read properly without having to stop to sniffle every few seconds.

His attempts to use his magic to alleviate his symptoms proved futile. It only left him shivering and exhausted in wake of his efforts. With a final shiver, he sighed and closed his book. He was getting nowhere like this. He needed to sleep.

However it was just as the God resigned himself to the need for sleep, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the quiet tower. Thor, ever watchful of his mischievous brother, entered the room, a concerned expression crossing his face as he witnessed Loki's disheveled state.

"Brother!" Thor exclaimed, his voice a mix of worry and exasperation. "What in the realms has befallen you? You look as if you've faced the wrath of a frost giant!"

Loki glanced up, his eyes weary and red, and managed a weak smirk. "Just a mere inconvenience, dear brother. Mortal germs have decided to wage war on Asgardian immunity.” He sniffled thickly, the act irritating his already rubbed-raw nose, causing it to twitch maddeningly.

“Ha-hh.. Hah'KSHIEW! HhhH’HhtSHH! hh’EKSHIEW! God, fgucking, damn HhH- it! Hhh’TSCHOO!”

The thunder god’s eyes widened in surprise at his brothers outburst, offering out a tissue as he tried hopelessly to clean himself up. “I believe the native curtesy is to say ‘bless you.’” Thor chuckled, extending a firm hand to squeeze Loki’s shoulder, “I’ve also heard about the wonders of tea for these sorts of ailments, I’ll go and prepare some.”

The ever-caring brother, quickly made his way to the kitchen to prepare a soothing cup of tea. The scent of chamomile and honey filled the air as he expertly brewed the remedy. Returning with a steaming mug, he handed it to Loki, his concern evident in his eyes, “Just try some.” He urged.

Loki begrudgingly accepted the tea, the warmth seeping into his chilled fingers. "Fine, fine," he muttered, taking a sip and feeling a slight sense of relief slowly come over him.

"It’s not awful," He sniffled begrudgingly.

Thor grinned, satisfied. "Rest now, brother. Back to bed with you.” He motioned, holding out a hand to pull his brother up from the sofa, making sure he had properly gained his balance before letting go.

Resigned to his fate, the trickster went back to his room and wrapped himself in a thick robe. The fabric doing little to stave off the persistent chill that clung to him so he trudged back to his bed, tissues in hand, and succumbed to the discomfort that accompanied his illness. The room, once filled with the echoes of revelry, was now a silent witness to man’s struggles against the common cold.

#snz #snzkink #snzblr #snzfic #male snz #lo/ki snz #snzario #snz kink #f snz #m snz #snzfucker #snz secret santa #🌻 fic #snzblr secret santa 2023

[nekropsii]

Question! What exactly is march!eridan and? How was the reception towards june? Im sorry, I haven't been a part of the hs fandom in years

March!Eridan- or, more commonly, simply March Eridan- is a long-running fandom joke and fanon trope based on an image of Eridan crossdressing that was made for one of the official calendars, back in around... 2010.

Pictured here. The problem with this is that this was a "Man in a Dress" joke- an age-old transmisogynistic trope. Now, this doesn't say much about who the artist is as a person nowadays, as this is far too old to truly hang over their head, but... People took it and ran. It's been a running gag ever since the image was created. And the fandom was... Horrible about it, to say the least. People were using all manners of slurs with regards to its concept, many reacting to this image with nothing but pure disgust. And if people weren't turning the concept of a GNC guy into a laughingstock or making it out to be entirely repulsive, then they were horrifically oversexualizing him, despite his age- which, reminder, is 13 years old. It was awful, and I'm seeing the same shit to this day, even if it is on a smaller scale. It's just not kosher either way. It's not surprising at all that that's how people handled it in 2010. It's definitely a product of its time- which isn't an excuse, but absolutely a solid explanation. I really do expect better of people in 2023, though. Especially from people who claim to be "beyond" this kind of thing.

As for June's reception... God, it was awful. The amount of harassment that happened over whether her concept was even worth consideration was entirely unacceptable. No one could be normal about it. Even people who didn't care at all about canonicity and just liked the idea of June as a headcanon got lambasted. I'm honestly glad you weren't there to see it, it was all pretty sickening. I might not agree with how hardcore people will get about June's canonicity, but I do understand where that defensiveness comes from completely. It's hard to not go insane when you feel like the safety of yourself and/or your sisters is being threatened in a community you had grown to feel housed you in a way no other community really will. Getting defensive, having such strong opinions and boundaries regarding the whole thing... It's completely and utterly understandable. Natural, even. You and I would probably be the same way, had either of us been closer to the situation.

The Homestuck fandom's transmisogyny is a well that runs deep, and is about as old as the comic itself... I hate to see that it's continuing to this day. It's hard to be grateful that it doesn't seem to be as bad as it used to be, because the June situation really just proved how many people are closet transmisogynists... Even people who have outwardly progressive politics, or are trans themselves. It's disappointing, to say the least.

Also, saying this in advance: Most people tend to jump to insulting the original artist for March Eridan's art style or technique... Please refrain from doing so here, it's a childish and petty response to this conversation. There's nothing original or insightful one could say in insulting the quality their work. It's been done. Trust me. The pure acidic vitriol that the art and artist received was honestly mind-boggling.

#homestuck #homestuck meta #homestuck analyis #homestuck fandom #march!eridan ampora #eridan ampora #june egbert #junecourse #cw transphobia #cw transmisogyny #eridan.pdf #june.pdf #nekro.pdf #nekro.sms

[pesterloglog]

Kanaya Maryam, Rose Lalonde, Alfonz, Jade Harley

Page 198-203

KANAYA: Try Calling Her Again!

ROSE: I HAVE tried, but she's not picking up!!

KANAYA: What About Harry Anderson Or Tavros!

ROSE: Kanaya, nobody is answering!!!

KANAYA: Rose I Feel Like I Must Sink To The Level Of Stating The Obvious But This Is Terrible!

KANAYA: This Is Awful!

KANAYA: This Is!

KANAYA: Just!

KANAYA: Aaaaaaargh!

KANAYA: I Cant Think Of Any More Related Adjectives!

ROSE: It's...

ROSE: Kanaya, I don't want to resort to idle, baseless platitudes.

ROSE: So I won't.

ROSE: I don't understand what's going on any more than you do, and I'm sorry.

ROSE: I'm sorry!

KANAYA: Rose Our Daughter Is In Danger And We Are But Powerless To Help Her!

KANAYA: I Do Not Understand Why This Is Happening Or What Precise Series Of Events Led To This Predicament But I Doubt That They Are Directly Or Indirectly Your Fault!

KANAYA: I Feel Like Your Apologising Is Serving As The Very Baseless Platitude Which You Sought To Avoid!

ROSE: No, I know.

ROSE: I know, dear.

ROSE: I just wish I had answers!! My useless powers aren't being any help, and what's worse,

ROSE: I can't see ANYTHING useful on this stupid news channel!!

KANAYA: I Think It Is A Cruel Irony That We Are Forced To Depend On Crocker's Branded Coverage Of Our Own Daughters Headhunting!

KANAYA: Not To Mention That The Quality Of This Broadcast Leaves Something To Be Desired!

KANAYA: I Know That We Are Enemies But I Really Expected Better Of Such A Shrewd Businesswoman!

ALFONZ: excuse me mA'Ams

ROSE: I just don't understand what Vriska was doing there in the first place...

ROSE: Forgetting the fact that Gamzee's dead for a moment,

KANAYA: No I Cant Do That Theyve Just Started Showing The Picture Of Him Again

ROSE: Ugh, god.

KANAYA: For Once The Thought Of His Putrescent Corpse Does Nothing To Quell My Anxiety!

ALFONZ: if i could just tAke A moment of your time

ALFONZ: its A mAtter of some urgency

KANAYA: This Is All So Upsetting That I Cannot Even Find Satisfaction In His Death!

KANAYA: Not When They Have Started Using It As Justification To Call Our Daughter A Terrorist!

KANAYA: And All That Is Without Even Mentioning The Fact!

KANAYA: That Somehow!!

ALFONZ: (*deep breath*)

KANAYA: The Other Vriska Is Also Here!!!

ALFONZ: MA'AMS I HAVE AN URGENT REPORT TO DELIVER, PLEASE FORGIVE MY YELLING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ALFONZ: the reconnAissAnce teAm is bAck eArly, mA'Ams

ALFONZ: the ship docked A few moments Ago

ROSE: And the scouting party???

ALFONZ: i expect she's Zipping her wAy up here now, mA'Am

ALFONZ: should be here Any minute n

ALFONZ: oof!

ROSE: Jade!

KANAYA: Oh Thank God

ROSE: We weren't expecting you to get back so soon.

KANAYA: What Is Going On Down There

ROSE: What happened to the rest of your scouting party?

KANAYA: What Is Another VRISKA Doing Here

ROSE: Where is John?

KANAYA: Where Is Dave

ROSE: Where is our *daughter*?!

KANAYA: (Rose I Think We Must Try To Remain Calm And Give Jade A Chance To Answer Our Queries Difficult Though It May Be In This Moment Of Intolerable Anguish And Suspense)

ROSE: I... yes, of course.

KANAYA: Jade It Is Okay

JADE: its........

JADE: *sniffle*

KANAYA: Please Take Your Time

JADE: we dont HAVE any time!!!

JADE: its too late!!!!!!

JADE: janes forces were just too fast...

KANAYA: Oh No

ROSE: You don't mean...

JADE: theyve taken her

JADE: THEYVE TAKEN YIFFY!!!!!!! D:

#homestuck #homestuck^2 #kanaya maryam #rose lalonde #alfonz #jade harley #homestuck^2 act 1 #page 198 #page 199 #page 200 #page 201 #page 202 #page 203

[loverofthewindgod]

🥞Brunch Bunch 🥞

There are so many ways one can enjoy a lovely Sunday afternoon. Strolling through the park, going to the mall, having a family cookout, sleeping in the whole day, you name it. For these 5 ladies, it's quality sister time that they rarely get to have, and what better way to enjoy that than having brunch at the greatest Café in existence!

'Scuse me, Imma just insert this wholesome imagery of the sisters vibin while makin their way downtown ^_^

Sienna: "When I say 'sister', y'all say 'time'! "Sister!"

Avani, Safara, Xuna: "Time!"

Sienna: "Sister!"

Avani, Safara, Xuna: "Time!"

Xuna: "When I say 'yummy', y'all say 'food'! "Yummy!"

Sienna, Safara, Avani: "Food!"

Xuna: "Yummy!"

Sienna, Safara, Avani: "Food!"

Tootega: "When I say 'shut', please shut up."

The Squad: 😗😗😗😗......

Avani: "Shut!"

Sienna, Xuna, Safara: "Up!"

Avani: "Shut!"

Sienna, Xuna, Safara: "Up!"

Tootega: "I'm surrounded by idiots." 😑😑😑

"Alrighty now, who's ready to have their mind and taste buds blown away?" Sienna asked, playfully walking backwards.

"Pshhhh, as an expert foodie I'll be glad to test that statement." Avani proudly shot back.

"Yea, Gordon Ramsay has NOTHING on you sis." Tootega rolled her eyes at her sister's bravado.

"I'm so happy that we get to spend time together and it's not for training or at some boring meeting!" Safara exclaimed, happily raising her hands to the sky.

"Fujin mentioned his visits to your family business and sounds like he enjoyed himself. Is it true that's where you first learned the art of cooking?" Xuna asked.

"True it be, Madam Sunshine!" Sienna finger gunned, earning a giggle from Xuna.

"Amazing! I can't wait until we arrive!"

"Well wait no longer, coz we've arrived! Ladies and Queens, it is with great honor that I welcome you to my family's pride and joy, ba da da daaaa! The Serene Garden!"

~insert Sienna doing the Will Smith Oscar pose~

Upon entering the establishment, Xuna, Avani, and Safara dropped their jaws in awe as they glanced around, even Tootega gave an impressed nod. The Café had such a warm, inviting rustic ambiance to it. The aroma of freshly made coffee and pastries filled the room, there was lively chatter among the patrons in the dining area, the bar, even the kitchen staff sounded merry. Not to mention there's a secluded library section for book lovers. You know where Tootega's gonna venture off to, heh.

Some of the patrons stopped what they were doing and noticed the ladies walking around, understandably taken aback by height differences and beautiful appearances. If they weren't 5 powerful Goddesses, one would've thought they were simply a group of insanely hot supermodels going out to eat.

As Sienna continued showing the gals around, she noticed her pawpaw Kojoe at a table serving some coffee with a side of smiles.

"Cuckoo Koko!" Almost dropping the kettle after hearing the very familiar voice, Kojoe took a deep breath, politely excused himself from the table, and just dashed his way on over to his daughter.

"MAHH BEBEH GORLLL!!!!" YOU CAME BAAAAAACK!!" What better way to welcome your child back than to hug em tight and spin them around like a mad man while speaking an entirely different language in front of your customers hahaha.

"Oh gods, more weird people." Tootega winced at the unusual, yet wholesome family encounter.

"Lemme tell you sumthin, buttercup. The second I heard Cuckoo, that's when I thought, 'hmm only one gal knows how cuckoo koko be, and that when I knew it was my little rose bud." Kojoe whimsically booped his daughter on the nose, as if he forgot or just refused to believe that his girl is all grown up. Sienna then took the time to introduce the Goddesses to her father.

"Girls, I want you to meet my father, Kojoe. Paw paw, these lovely ladies are Fujin's sisters: This is Avani, Tootega, Safara, and Xuna."

"Well I'll be cornfunded! Y'all are related to Fujin Apple?"

"Woah woah...related to who did what now?" Tootega was straight up dumbfounded by the nickname, while Xuna, Safara and Avani were trying so hard not to laugh.

"Oh, Fujin Apple is his nickname the family gave him. It's a long story." Sienna giggled.

"Ooohhh you don't know what you've done, I'm gonna have a blast with this." Avani maliciously rubbed her hands together, plotting future embarrassment for her younger brother.

"So anyway paw paw, today is a very special day I get to spend with these very special ladies. Think you can help me out with something very special?" Sienna asked.

"Sure thing baby girl. Whatchu need?"

"We need to initiate Operation Brunch Bunch"

Right on cue, the staff stopped in the middle of their duties, looking like a bunch of deer in headlights. It's not very often they get an order like this, and they were pretty excited! Knowing that the order came from Sienna meant that it had to be more wonderful than usual.

"Ohh yea we gotchu, we gotchu wildflower! You and your sisters sit back and we'll handle everything for y'all!" Kojoe kissed his daughter on the forehead before he superman'ed himself through the kitchen window alongside his head chef hubby and the rest of the crew, getting right to work.

In the meantime, the Goddesses got cozy at the outdoor patio and served Raspberry Mimosas, enjoying the peaceful, scenic view of the large fields and mountains.

"I know I have my own temple and land, but man oh man! This is the life!" Avani raised her glass, feeling on top of the world.

"Sienna, this place is absolutely beautiful! I'll have to bring Raiden here sometime, even if i have to drag him from his chambers."

"I can guarantee you he won't be mad for long once you do. Sienna suggested.

Safara happily spun around dreaming as if she was back at Strawberry Fields."I'm certain Grey would love this outdoor space, almost as much as Kiva and Hana would."

~cuts to scene of Tootega sipping her beverage in the library, reading~

"Oh look! The food's ready!" Sienna gestured over to the group of servers emerging from indoors with trays of food.

Pancakes, chicken and waffles, a french toast bake, a garden frittata, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, roasted potatoes, danish cream puff pastries, croissants, muffins, biscuits with butter, honey & homeade jams, and a fresh fruit platter. The spread layed out across the table looked like a grand buffet, truly a sight to behold.

"Bon Appétit, Mademoiselles." The servers bowed before returning inside, ending with Kojoe and Sienna exchanging two thumbs up.

The ladies gathered together at the table, taken back by the tasty offerings brought before them. After a short and sweet prayer, it was time to chow down!

"Where to start, where to start..." Avani, now in expert foodie mode, contemplated from the vast amount of food to choose from. She went for the French toast, took her first bite and she went silent, shutting her eyes.

"Soooo...what's the verdict?" Sienna teased.

"Shhhhh...I can't even look at you right now." Avani waved her fork around like she's in a dreamy haze. She was on cloud nine, a delicious fluffy toast cloud in French heaven.

"I think I'll be coming back for the chicken and waffles here."

"Oooh, the cream danishes are soooo tasty!!"

"Don't sleep on biscuits with honey, it's insane."

"Hmm, the frittata tastes pretty good."

A delectable feast such as this fit for royalty, let alone 5 Goddesses, the verdict was unanimous. Overall score gets 10 thumbs up. A Flawless (and delicious) victory!

Buuuut....it doesn't end there. Even after demolishing all that food, there was still plenty of room for early dessert! To the bakery!

"So we get our own box of whatever pastries we desire?" Xuna asked, admiring the many selections. Donuts, cupcakes, tarts, you name it. Tootega was busy keeping Avani and Safara from drooling all over the display glass.

"You sure can! Go on and help yourselves!" Sienna gave them the green light to satisfy their sweet tooths. Avani and Safara ended up getting 4 boxes each. One for the way back, one for their students, and two for a midnight snack. Safara just had to get more of those danishes that stole her heart. Tootega, Sienna and Xuna just settled for 2 boxes each. Business was real good for the bakery that day.

Now cut to the scene where the gals are heading home, sampling a few treats while just reflecting on the wonderous day they had.

"Three cheers for Sienna, who graced us with this wonderful get-together!"

"Hip hip hoorah!" Safara and Avani cheered with their mouths full.

"Today was nice." Tootega shrugged, acting like she didn't enjoy herself. She ain't foolin anybody.

"Aww, I'm touched. But I think we all deserve a cheer. Strong, beautiful, amazing, intelligent Queens who get to call each other sisters. To sisterhood!"

"To Sisterhood!!"

"Yea, I guess. Just no more sing-."

🎶Makin our way downtown, with some treats, havin fun with my sisters🎶

"Why? Why me?..." Tootega pleaded to the heavens.

Today has been nothing short of phenomenal. Each and every second was cherished. Filled with amazing food, laughter, (except Tootega lmao) and just pure vibes. Operation Brunch Bunch was a success.

Lady Xuna - @bisexualjohnnycage

The God Sisters - @ninibear3000

#mk oc #sienna #lady xuna #earth goddess avani #water goddess tootega #fire goddess safara #mutual's oc #lord raiden #lord fujin #really needed this well deserved fluffiness #quality sister time 💕 #lowkey made myself hungry writing this lmao 🤣 #avani is gonna embarass the living hell out of fujin #tootega was pretty much a mood the entire time #the way to safara's heart is nightwolf and danishes lol 🤣🤣 #i will DEFINITELY write more moments for Xuna and Sienna #storm wives bonding time 💕

[itsclydebitches]

Your explanation of how RWDE came to be reminds me a bit of a different fandom I'm in. It's a multi-pov rp with a big cast who often get into conflict one another. There's this one character who's widely regarded as a villain (and he is a villain, abused some people and did a bunch of horrible stuff) but he's treated like a one dimensional morally black villain.

Anyone who tries to point out that maybe he's more complex than a disney villain or that he might - god forbid - have good qualities or not be at fault for everything gets labelled as an apologist for that character.

Eventually people gave up and said "okay fine we're that character's apologists". Then the fandom used that to claim that anyone who call themselves an apologist for that character obviously excuses or justifies all the bad things he did.

It's not exactly the same but the parallels jumped out to me.

To continue the association train, THIS reminds me of some fans' reactions to Izzy from OFMD. Exact same song and dance. A lot of viewers enjoy him, understand 100% that he's the antagonist, he's done a whole lot of shit, but point out that he's not irredeemable (especially given other characters' actions + the genre of the show)/he's more complex than a Disney villain/being responsible for some awfulness doesn't make him responsible for every bad thing in the canon. Lo and behold, people came out of the tumblr woodwork to scream about how we're all Izzy apologists and after a while we went, "Okay fine lol. We're Izzy apologists. What are you gonna do about it?" which set off a whole new wave of, "Do you SEE how AWFUL they are?"

Interestingly, one of the major differences that I've seen with OFMD is that fans with even the slightest association with Izzy get targeted. I mean, it's no surprise that I get angry anons about RWBY. I write a bunch of RWBY meta, answer RWBY-related asks, and frequently post my opinions about this kind of fandom drama. I am 100% aware of what I'm getting myself into. Same with OFMD. I posted some metas and others have found me through my fic, so of course I'd attract anyone with a vendetta against fans enjoying this character when I analyze him and frequently make him a focus of my stories. The "I enjoy Ironwood-Izzy" dramas kinda go hand-in-hand, despite stemming from different fandoms. But other stories I've heard are wild. Fans saying that they reblogged just a single, neutral post about Izzy, or mentioned something vaguely positive in one tag, or actually DON'T like him, yet are for some unfathomable reason being targeted anyway. Idk if that's happened in your rp fandom at all, but it was a new experience for me. OFMD leveled up the discourse in an unfortunate way lmfao.

But yeah, all of it sucks. I've been in fandoms where I think the majority of participants are ignoring/reworking the horrific things a character has done and yeah, it can be really frustrating. That's why I make my own posts so I can purge myself of my opinions on the matter lol. But these people going into others' inboxes to yell about them being "apologists"??? Absolutely wild. Please chill out and let people enjoy fictional characters. Because, you know, that's why they exist... to enjoy them... 🤷‍♀️

#OFMD #Our Flag Means Death #mymetas

[thelostmoongazer]

@circateas was saying how their announcer oc (Mic), before he was the announcer for the cup bros, was one for King Dices casino for their occasional boxing matches that would take place in there. Well, because of this, Teas explained that Mic knows a thing or two about kickin some ass in case he needs to break up an unfair or dirty fight. 

SO I THOUGHT

what if Mic would volenteer in the ring from time to time :^)c

#please excuse the god awful quality on most of these dbshjkxn im stuck using my computer camera cuz i lost my phone #i tried my best to make em look nice i really did #all of these drawings took up 4 whole pages in my sketchbook god damn #also im kinda starting to ship this myself????? #THEY JUST LOOK GOOD TOGETHER??? AND THEIR DYNAMIC IS SO GOOD???? #[everyone in the fandom]: dice and satan [me in my small small corner breathing heavily]: ........................dice and mic......... #cuphead #king dice #announcer cuphead #mic cuphead #cuphead oc #moon art #nikidoodle #traditional #blood// #bruises// #injury// #fandoms

[tooweirdforyou]

How The OP Boys Say “I Love You” To Their S/O

How You Know He Loves You- idk man

A/N : enjoy.

includes » Ace, Sabo, Luffy, law, Sanji, Zoro, Marco, Rosinante, Kid, Shanks, Mihawk, Katakuri, Izo, Koby, Cavendish,

Summary : the boys’ own way of saying “I love you”, with their own words and ways. Or, how you know he loves you.

? Wait did I do this before? I don’t even know. also these aren’t GREAT, but they aren’t HORRIBLE. Yk? Honestly tho, some of these seem like they’re all over the place, which yes, they might be. UGH IT WAS SO HARD THO.

-

Monkey D. Luffy

Luffy loves you like an adventure. Everything is new and always fun to try with him, and no matter what happens, you don’t ever regret it, because you’re doing it with him.

He’s persistent in staying with you everywhere, he wants to do everything with you. He tends to invite you ( by pulling your hand ) to do crazy things with him and away from the others so you’re alone.

He’s always showing off his skills and stupidity in order to make you laugh, because your smile is the best thing he’s ever seen and giggles are the beautiful sound he treasures.

His actions are genuine when he holds your hand and pulls you to his side all the time, with the warmest, loving grin.

Luffy always makes sure to remind you to never give up hope.

“Let’s go on an adventure together, [Name].”

-

Roronoa Zoro

Zoro loves you like you’re his one and only. No one has priority over you, ( except maybe Luffy ), and you will always be his, if you’ll let him.

Zoro is not a man of many words when it comes to his own emotions and feelings, so he shows it through his actions.

He always has an eye on you, so wherever you are is where he ‘sleeps’ so he can keep you close, his swords at his side to protect you from danger, ( but he knows you can handle yourself. )

Zoro is the perfect person to lend a comforting shoulder and ear. He will listen to every single one of your problems intently and if he can, will offer the best advice you’ll hear, even if it’s a bit harshly. However, whatever got you so down, Zoro will bring you back up.

Zoro is always reminding you that you are strong, no matter how tough things get.

“Oi, come take a nap with me. I could use a body pillow.”

-

Portgas D. Ace

Ace loves you like a gentleman, respecting boundaries, bowing to the elderly you pass by together and always ready to pick you up for your date at seven, bouquet of flowers in hand.

If Ace is good at anything, it’s knowing how to distract you with a good time. He knows the best way to bring a beautiful smile to your lips and can easily make sure to avoid the thoughts that brought you down in the first place.

He’ll share stories that will make you die of laughter or feel so wholesome that you literally melt at how sweet it is.

The few times he expresses and shares his insecurities to you, something he hides within him because he trusts you enough to do so. He loves your understanding and comfort for him.

Ace always reminds you that you’ll be okay, even at the worst times.

“You are the light of my life.”

-

Chief of Staff Sabo

Sabo loves you like a prince. He holds the door for you, takes your hand so you don’t fall, has the most charismatic smile on his face and is just so charming.

Sabo will remember the littlest things, the smallest details that you yourself don’t even know until he reminds you, and because of this, you are often gifted the most memorable and cherishing gifts, like the scarf you two bought for your perfect snowman, to the necklace you were staring a little too longingly at on display.

He’s always busy, but he doesn’t hesitate to drop whatever he has just for you. He will run through fire if it means you’ll stop crying or if you’ll be happy to see him. You are his lifeline, his soul, his love.

He may not know how to properly cheer you up like his brothers can, but he knows that he wants the best for you. If you need space, you got it. You need some tender loving cuddles and buckets of ice cream while watching Disney movies? Vanilla or chocolate ice cream?

Sabo reminds you that you deserve happiness and peace.

“Whenever you need me, I’ll be there.”

-

Trafalgar D. Water Law

Law loves you like you’re his savior, someone who’s always there during his time of need and insecurities, by his side when he needs you most.

He’s a little blunt and straightforward occasionally, but he’s honest somewhat. He won’t ever tell you his feelings until he deems it the right time, but you can tell he has feelings by the change in treatment.

He’ll keep you closer to him, making excuses by saying that he needs you to help him with the supply run, or that he needs your assistance with a particular menial task.

He’s awkward and shy about it at first but he cares and that’s all you need to know. Especially once you catch him during one of his weaker times, the anniversary of a particular someone rolling around, where he’s locked in his room. He needs you beside him, so please don’t leave him when he needs you.

Law reminds you that you are human, that it’s okay to be vulnerable.

“Just stay here with me.”

-

Vinsmoke Sanji

Sanji loves you like a god/goddess. He will treat you with the utmost respect and care and offers you everything you could possibly want or need, just say the word.

His genuine, endless daily compliments are given to you with pure love and passion, his daily refreshments and snacks to keep you energized and hydrated keeps an eye out for your health.

He makes sure you know the true meaning of flattery, chivalry and love, because that is all he can show you.

However, under that chivalrous exterior, is his calmer, understanding loving self, where he shows his true self and when he finally shares this side with you, where he holds his insecurities, it’s the true honor and love you can receive. And it’s even better, when you become the one who loves for him in return during this time.

Sanji reminds you that you deserve to be and are loved.

“You are my world, my everything.”

-

Marco The Phoenix

Marco loves you like a married couple who grew old together, still playing jokes and having fun to life’s fullest, no matter your age.

He’s constantly lecturing you for the smallest things repeatedly, since you always seem to forget. His lectures lack any annoyance or malice though, he’s just kind of done with you sometimes.

Nonetheless, he’s taking care of you more than you think, always the first one there whenever you need help. He’s always prepared for whatever you need so you don’t have to look for it and get worried.

He’s stern at times but he loves you more than you could ever know, often questioning himself whenever he’s beside you. He half-lidded eyes watching you with warmth and admiration because you always look so determined.

Marco always reminds you that you are free. To live life to its fullest and however you wish.

“Let me fly you to the moon.”

-

Donquixote Rosinante

Rosinante loves you like a husband, he treats you like his wife, either you or him welcoming each other home after being gone for so long and greeting each other with a loving kiss each time.

He knows just how tough things can be and as much as he tries to make things right, he knows how bad situations really are and no matter how much he wants to cry or get angry, he always holds a smile, in front of you. To assure you that things will be okay.

He gives the warmest hugs, and knows that, so whenever you’re angry or sad, or just randomly at times, Rosi envelops you into a large hug, waddling you back and forth a few times, you feel instant relief and content, which makes him smile.

His priority will always be you, even if he’s hundreds of thousands miles away, he will find his way back home to you. He surprises you with the littlest gifts; being flowers, jewelry, candles, or more.

Rosi will always remind you to smile, even during the hardest times.

“I will protect you.”

-

Eustass Kid

Kid loves you like a game, it’s unexpected, unpredictable of what will happen and it’s exciting and thrilling. For you both, one wrong move, and the other is gone for good, but perhaps, second chances/rematches are available.

He can be brash and a bit much, but Kid has high respect for anyone who actually makes it onto his crew and can actually tolerate him, you included.

He’s loud and wild but that only makes it part of the fun. With such a short fuse, as long as you play your cards right and pick your moments to bite back, it’s kind of fun knowing how dangerous it can be with a guy like Kid, and he also loves it equally, because your feistiness is attractive.

Being a bad bitch that doesn’t play by the rules is so incredibly attractive and Kid knows how to reward and punish so tread carefully. ;) however, he has his down moments and as annoying he can be, he does appreciate the effort you give if you try to comfort him. He’ll be harsh about it but eventually, he just wants you to be with him in the end.

Kid reminds you to rebel, take risks and enjoy the thrill of getting in dangerous situation every once in a while, breaking a few rules doesn’t hurt anybody. Most of the time.

“Don’t fucking ever leave me.. okay?”

-

Dracule Mihawk

Mihawk loves you like you’re an empress, only the finest and highest quality for you, nothing else can compare.

Mihawk will buy you the most expensive dress that suits you, with an equally expensive matching jewelry to go with. Not to mention the heels, and, tch, how could he forget the roses you require? Despicable.

As much as he loves to show you off, he despises the stares of awe and admiration you receive whenever you go out, so his possessiveness takes over and he has an arm around your waist at all times, successfully showing you’re taken and to back off if they don’t wish to be cut into oblivion.

He trains you to handle yourself, obviously, you should know at least some basic skills. He’s not too hard on you but does push you to keep going until you truly wish to stop. It’s only because he’s worried that one day, he won’t be there and won’t be able to protect you.

Mihawk reminds you that you are a queen/king, a strong person who shall hold your ground and never back down from fear and show your bravery.

“Come here, mi amor.”

-

Red Haired Shanks

Shanks loves you like you’re his future. It’s an unknown journey, but he’s there for the ride and whatever may happen, he’s there staying and won’t be going anywhere, unless it’s with you.

The red head is a goofball, he drinks, parties and messes around but he is an incredible captain and genuine to a fault. So when he expresses kindness, it is purely from his heart and not out of manners.

He is extremely playful and yet when down to business, he is calm, collected, and cool. He knows just what to say in tough situations and great comforting advice, so he’s the one to go to when you’re feeling down. And as laid back as he is, disrespect to those he loves is the one shit he won’t take.

He’ll hold you close and with his signature grin, compliment you and tell you how much he appreciates you and as soon as someone lays a finger on you, his hand is on the hilt of the sword and he waits three seconds for an explanation before he cuts them down. No one messes with his beloved.

Shanks reminds you of loyalty. To always protect and care for those close to you, and keep that built up trust and bond you created with them.

“Trust me. I won’t let go of you.”

-

Charlotte Katakuri

Katakuri loves you like you’re glass, he’s careful, protective, cautious and treats you like you’re fragile, because he’s afraid of hurting you.

He’s larger than most, he’s aware of that, so he always takes the precautions to be aware of his surroundings, especially when you are around. He wants you safe and he will be devastated if he is the cause of your pain.

His large stature is a blessing to you though, because cuddling is so comfortable and comforting, it’s amazing. You can curl up and relax and just be at ease with him, because he’s so protective of you, even from his family members. He often keeps you away from Cracker and Perospero, in the slightest chance that they try to take you away from him.

He’ll be extremely heartbroken if Big Mom doesn’t approve of you, but his love for you is stronger, so he’ll keep it a secret if he has to but eventually, he’ll pray and wish for her blessing, asking the help of his siblings to convince her.

Katakuri reminds you of family, that even friends or crewmates are family and love you all the same.

“I will be here for you.”

-

Captain Koby

Koby loves you like a typical high school crush. He’s all shy and blushy, and evidently embarrassed when the pretty one at school is talking to him, ( that’s you. ).

He’s like the wallflower type, who tries to blend in but somehow, he sticks out in a way that lures you to him, like he’s hit the jackpot.

He is incredibly sweet, and his shyness is so adorable. You can’t help but coo whenever you see his red cheeks and soft smile of care he offers.

Always helps you with everything, will take the blame whenever you get in trouble, takes the suffering and pain when guys try to mess with you, and no matter how tough things get, he’s holding a brave face for you.

Koby reminds you of kindness, treat everyone with care and kindness, and it goes a long way.

“If you fall, I’ll be there to catch you.”

-

16th Division Commander Izo

Izo loves you like you’re a painting, he thinks you are true beauty, inside and out, you are a work of art, a true Mother Nature masterpiece born. One to be admired.

The type to be there. He’ll hold your hair while you vomit, rubbing soothing circles on your back while you cry, painting your nails while you complain about Ace, assure your perfection when you’re feeling insecure.

Best advice giver, holds no judgements at all. He’ll help with anything, because you need him. Romantic advice, friendship, sexual advice ;), he will help you any way he can.

He truly admires you, not because of your beauty, but your strength to be able to cry. Crying doesn’t mean weakness but rather, strength to be able to move forward even in the worst of times.

Izo reminds you that you are beautiful, no matter what anyone thinks or says.

“You are true beauty, my love.”

-

Cavendish Of The White Horse

Cavendish loves you like you’re a princess, and he is your handsome Prince Charming.

Every thing he does it like from a fairytale, if it involved a rather.. bit of a narcissistic Prince Charming. But he means well, because he still treats you like a real princess.

He gives you daily horseback rides, teaching you with his strong arms wrapped around yours and his black fancy hat on top of your head, as you two ride around and share laughs and memories.

And even through his big ego, he still makes sure to compliment you, tell you how proud he is of you and how much he truly admires you for your strong will and determination, because he really does love you. More than you know.

Cavendish reminds you that dreams can come true, sometimes it just takes a leap of faith and effort.

“I will treat you like the princess you are and deserve to be.”

-

A/N : 15 fucking people and having to think of different things while I’m distracted is so HARD. 😭 please tell me you enjoyed though ;-;

but did I do this already? God I can’t remember a thing, especially since I still haven’t updated my masterlists- and I’m terribly sorry if this really is all over the place ;-; also apologies if this is repetitive for some of them! It really is difficult yk ;-;

#tooweirdforyou #one piece #one piece x reader #op x reader #x reader #op #one piece writing #luffy x reader #shanks x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #donquixote rosinante x reader #one piece izo #eustass captain kid x reader #captain koby #vinsmoke sanji x reader #portgas d. ace x reader #chief of staff sabo #charlotte katakuri x reader #trafalgar d. water law x reader #marco the phoenix x reader #cavendish x reader

[viking-raider]

SWIPE - PART THREE

Summary: You and Henry spend some quality time together, making you realize how strongly he's come to feel for you.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 8.4k

Pervious: I / II

Warning: PG-13 - Cotton Candy Fluff, Angst, Fluff, Protective!Henry, Sassy!Reader, Language, Anxiety, Cuddling, Playful Banter, Warhammer Mention, Kal Adorable-ness

Inspiration: Something I read.

Author’s Note: Takes please before Sand Castle! I hope you enjoy it! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

You: OMG, you did not change my contact name in your phone to Ducky, with an emoji!

Henry: You're damn right I did, my little Ducky!

“Oh, I can play that game too, Cavill.” You huffed at your phone, pulling up your contacts and changed Henry's name to a puppy emoji.

You: What now!?

Henry: Aw, it looks like Kal!

“Ugh!” You laughed, dropping back in your office chair. “This man is a menace.” You said to your stomach, grinning.

“Are you supposed to be on your phone, during work hours?” Craig's voice said behind you.

You rolled your eyes. “I don't know, ask yourself that the next time you get angry you lost a level of Candy Crush.” You retorted, looking at him over your shoulder. “What do you want?” You hissed, knowing he wasn't over at your desk only to rag on you for being on your phone.

“Have you finished the report on Garcia v. Duncan?” He asked, folding his arms over his chest. “It's due by tomorrow morning.”

“I'm not and I am aware of the deadline.” You replied, the report was in fact laid out on your desk and computer at that moment. “Mr. Donovan will have it, when I come into the office, bright and early tomorrow morning, before he goes into the courtroom at two, that afternoon.” You told him, coolly.

Craig blinked at you, his crossed arms relaxing a fraction. “You know what time his case starts?”

“Of course, I do.” You answered, turning to face him. “It's my job to know those things, so the job runs as smoothly as possible and that he wins his case, without any technicalities. Not stand around or going about the office, like I'm the fucking Red Baron.” You said, with a sharp edge in your voice. “Tell me, Craig. How is your case, the Kiener v. Garven? I heard that the deadline has been cut short three times already and you've received new evidence that neither side was aware of.” You said, lifting a brow at him.

“Sounds pretty tight for a case that's supposed to be closed a month ago.”

You watched Craig's face change, like watching a pot of water begin to boil over on a stove. You didn't know what had come over you, that you back-mouthed your boss, but you had enough of him picking on you, especially when you were doing your job and doing it well, better than he was doing his own job. Craig looked like he was about to blow his top at you, but instead turned on his heels and stormed off, back to his little corner of the office.

“God give me strength.” You mumbled to yourself, going back to your work.

Henry got off the plane with Kal and made his way through the crowd, towards the baggage claim, but something in the crowd caught his attention, and he instantly smiled. “Looks like we have a welcoming party, Bear.” He said, approaching you.

“What are you doing here, Ducky?”

“I'm here to greet you, Puppy.” You smiled back at him and pat Kal on top of the head. “Excuse me, Puppies.” You corrected yourself, looking down at Kal. “I missed you a lot and I knew you'd probably be taking a cab home.”

“So, I came to pick you up instead.”

“Aw, we're touched.” Henry smiled, shifting on his feet. “Just let me grab my bag.”

“Of course.” You nodded, holding your hand out for Kal's leash, in offer.

Nodding, Henry handed you Kal's leash and headed over to baggage claim, grabbed his suitcase and headed towards the exit with you, unaware of a certain person's attention as you went.

“I missed you.” Henry said, as you drove to his place.

You smiled over at Henry, then giggled as Kal stuck his head between the front seats and licked your face. “I missed you too, Henry.” You said, giving Kal a kiss.

“How's the baby?” He asked, watching the bumps through the fabric of your shirt and gave them a gentle rub, having special permission to touch your belly whenever.

“Killing me.” You sighed, resting your hand over his. “I haven't found a comfortable position to sit in for days, especially at work.”

“Back pain?” Henry frowned, feeling bad.

“To say the least.” You replied, shifting in your seat as your hips screamed.

“Stay with me.” Henry blurted out, as you pulled into the driveway of his mews.

“What?” You squeaked, caught off guard.

“Stay over with me.” He repeated himself, biting his lip. “Just for tonight.” He added, quickly.

“Ghost.” You blurted out. “He'll go crazy if I leave him alone that long.”

“We'll go get him.” Henry said, fully committing to his spontaneous idea.

You stared over at Henry, mouth hanging open, before you put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. Henry grinned, giddy at the thought of spending the night with you at his place, you had only been over to his place a couple of times, he had made you dinner and you watched his favorite movie, Gladiator, that you had scandalously confessed you had never seen before. Then, Henry drove you back home, when it grew late and you had yawned a few too many times. But, tonight, you'd be staying all night and he couldn't wait, going through a mental list of things he could potentially make for dinner and something the two of you could do as an activity.

Making it to your flat building, you went up, packed a little overnight bag, since you did have to go into work in the morning, then took Ghost down to the car. Kal greeted Ghost excitedly, his tail swishing against his back, while Ghost's beat against the backseat and the window, as they sniffed all over each other.

“Hey, bud!” Henry grinned, turning in the passenger seat and reached into the back to give the Northern Inuit love and scratches. “How are you doing, big man?” He chuckled, as Ghost swiped at his face with his tongue. “I missed you too.”

Returning to Henry's place and getting the whole gang inside, you sighed, as you stretched on Henry's couch, letting your head fall back against the cushions and your eyes shut. Henry smiled at you, before grabbing a small, throw pillow at the other end of the couch and situated it on the coffee table, then gently wrapped his arm around your calves, to lift your legs and rest your feet on the pillow.

You cracked an eye open at him, as he gently tugged your slip-on shoes off your swollen feet, then gave you a cheeky wink. “You spoil me, Cavill.” You murmured, closing your eyes again.

“It makes me happy.” He whispered back, bracing his arm on the back of the couch, to press his lips to your forehead. “And you two need to rest.” He added, cocking an eyebrow at your belly. “I'm going to put my stuff away, then shower real quick.” He told you, finding the remote to the tv and set it on the couch next to you. “If you need anything, you know where the kitchen and bathroom are.” He said, kissing your forehead once more, before taking his bags to the bedroom.

You relaxed on the couch for a few more moments, before opening your eyes and picking up the remote, turning the tv on, starting to surf for anything to watch, and grinned when both Ghost and Kal joined on each side of you.

Henry came back into the living room an hour later, wearing a pair of loose sweatpants and his famous blue tank top, his dark curls damp. He stood beside the couch, looking down at the three of you, hands held out, and looking incredulous.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” He asked, looking up at you, both hurt and looking for help, like you would make one of the boys move to make space for him.

“Um...” You giggled, looking between Kal and Ghost, then back up at Henry. “Did you make a reservation?” You quipped, before cracking up.

“Hm.” Henry growled, huffing, turning on his heels and disappeared into the kitchen.

Beside you, both Kal and Ghost suddenly perked up, their already erect ears twitching at a sound you couldn't hear yourself, but you suspected what it was Henry was rustling around with. They both bolted off the couch and made a mad dash for the kitchen, followed by a victorious 'ha' from Henry, who came rushing out of the kitchen and dropped himself onto the couch, where Kal had been.

“No dog can resist a blueberry and peanut butter biscuit.” He said, triumphantly nodding at you.

“Smooth, Puppy. Very smooth.” You smirked at him, resting your shoulder against his.

“Thank you.” He replied, putting his arm around you. “I wanted the best seat in the house.” He said, smiling at you, softly.

“Should I leave you two alone then?” You asked, motioning to your belly.

Henry laughed aloud and kissed your cheek. “Then, it would only be half the best seat in the house.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” You sighed, wiping fake sweat from your forehead.

“Are you looking for anything specific for dinner?” Henry asked, looking up at the tv.

“You always ask me that.” You replied, frowning at him. “We always eat what I want. What do you want?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

Henry bit his lip as he thought about it. “I've wanted to try cooking homemade pizza in my Egg Grill.” He finally answered, looking down at you.

“Ooo, that does sound very good.” You concurred with him.

“Pizza it is then!” He smiled, hugging you closer to him.

You and Henry watched the show you had found for a little bit longer, before he got up and started searching his kitchen to make sure he had all the ingredients he needed to make the pizza, discovering he didn't have dry yeast.

“I need to make a quick run to the store.” He told you, standing behind the couch. “I don't have any yeast for the dough. Do you need anything?”

“Nope!” You shook your head, looking back at him. “Just be safe.”

“Promise.” He nodded, kissing the top of your head and headed out.

You got up from the couch and padded into the kitchen, the cool tiles feeling wonderful on your sore feet as you pushed up on your toes to grab a glass out of Henry's cabinet, turning towards his refrigerator to got ice and water out of the dispenser in the door. “You know I'm surprised your dad doesn't have his Rosemary Water pumped into this thing.” You chuckled at Kal, as you went back to the couch.

“I'm back!” Henry called out, coming through the door.

“Welcome back!” You greeted him back, smiling up at him as he stopped by the couch.

“I see I've been replaced again.” He commented, seeing Kal and Ghost cuddled on the couch with you again.

“Never, just keep me safe till you come back home.” You chuckled, patting both dogs on the head.

Henry's heart flipped, thinking about coming home to the four of you. “I'll get the dough started, it's going to take a little while for it to rise, once I get it all mixed together.”

“You want some help?” You asked, scooting to the edge of the couch.

“Nope, you sit your butt right there and relax.” He told you, shaking his head and headed into the kitchen, but returned a few minute later with a steaming cup. “Me amour.” He smiled, setting the mug down on a coaster in front of you.

You smiled shyly at Henry, recognizing the smell of your Ginger tea. “You had Ginger Tea laying about?” You asked, picking up the cup and taking a sip of it, finding it was just as you liked it.

“I didn't.” Henry confessed, blushing. “But while I was at the store, I remembered your stomach gets upset most times after you eat, and it did the last time you had dinner over here, and that your tea really helps prevent that, so I picked up a box for you.” He explained, his blue eyes tender.

“Well, merci beaucoup.” You replied, nodding your head at him, appreciatively.

Henry smiled at you, before going back into the kitchen and started work on the pizza dough. He looked up as you came into the kitchen, your teacup clutched in both hands. “You're supposed to be relaxing.” He said, lifting a brow at you.

“I am.” You smirked, slipping onto a bar stool situated at the island Henry was working at. “But, I'm in the living room and you're in here. How are we supposed to talk, if we're in two different rooms?” You asked, lifting both your brows at him.

“Touche.” He chuckled, then slid his phone across the counter to you. “You want to read the measurements and instructions out to me?” He asked, with a soft smile.

You set your cup aside and picked up his phone. “Let's see. First thing is nine hundred and fifty milliliters of flour.” You read off the top of the list.

Nodding his head, Henry opened the container of flour he had and measured out the fine, white powder into the large, mixing bowl in front of him. “Next?”

“Five milliliters of sugar, followed by an envelope of yeast and ten milliliters of salt.” You read off to him, and watched him carefully add each of the ingredients to the bowl with the flour. “Then, you have to start mixing.”

“All right.” Henry replied, slotting the bowl into the stand mixer. “Is there a specific speed I'm supposed to put it on?”

“Doesn't say.” You answered, shaking your head as you carefully skimmed through the instructions.

“I'll keep it on low at first, then slowly increase it.” He said, studying the mixer.

“Probably a good idea, don't want it to snow flour in the kitchen.” You chuckled, amused. “Says to slowly add three hundred and fifty milliliters of water, that's forty-three degrees celsius, with thirty milliliters of olive oil.” You looked across at him, setting his phone down.

“That's easy enough.” Henry replied, turning around and filling the measuring cup with an appropriate amount of water. “In a drawer behind you, is a thermometer, could you grab it for me?” He asked, placing the cup in the microwave and turning it on for three minutes, hoping it was long enough to heat the water up to the correct temperature.

You twisted around in the stool and reached out for the drawer, fishing around inside of it until you found what you were looking for and turned back around, handing the food-grade thermometer out to Henry.

“Now, what do you want on your pizza?” Henry asked, as he greased the inside of a large bowl with some olive oil, to kill time until the microwave finished.

“I don't know.” You replied, shrugging your shoulders. “What are my options?”

“Cheese, obviously.” He laughed, setting the bowl down. “I got pepperonis, meatballs, veggies...”

“If you put broccoli on your pizza, I will disown you!” You said, sternly.

“I would never!” Henry replied, outraged at the idea, removing the measuring cup from the microwave and dripped the probe of the thermometer into it. “That's close enough.” He said, setting the thermometer aside and turned the mixer on.

“You have any bacon?” You asked, frowning over at him.

Henry laughed out loud, nodding his head. “I do.”

“Pepperoni and bacon with some spinach.” You said, licking your lips.

“That's a strange combination.” Henry frowned at you, but chuckled, as he slowly added the water into the mixer.

“I'm pregnant.” You retorted, rolling your eyes at him. “So, it sounds godly.”

Adding the olive oil in, Henry let the mixer do its job, forming the dough into a solid ball, before turning it off and transferring it into the greased bowl, then covering it with plastic wrap. “All right, now to let it rest for an hour.” He said, sliding it into a drawer beside his stove.

“You want to play a game, while we wait?” He asked, straightening up.

“What games do you have?” You asked, looking up at him with interest.

“Monopoly, Game of Thrones-themed chess, I have a deck of cards, or we can find something else.” He said, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Have you ever played Oregon Trail?” You asked, lifting your eyebrow at him.

“I haven't.” He replied, shaking his head.

You grinned at him, slipping off your stool and grabbing your cup. “Grab your gaming laptop, Superman!” You called out over your shoulder, heading back to the living room.

Henry did as you told him, grabbing his Razer laptop from his bedroom and settled on the couch with you, setting the laptop on the coffee table. “All right, what am I doing?” He asked, looking at you.

“Go to Oregon Trail Game dot com.” You told him, sipping your cool tea. “It's not a super flash game, like World of Warcraft, but I always get a kick out of Grandma falling out of the wagon or Timmy getting bitten by a snake.” You chuckled.

“Dear lord!” Henry laughed, finding the site and the, made in 1990, game menu. “This is an old game.” He commented, reading through it.

“That it is. With all the number commands, I suck at the hunting part of the game. But, maybe you'll be better at it, than I am.” You commented, leaning against him and looking at the screen.

“All right, let's hit the space-bar and get the game started.” Henry said, moving through the start menu. “Okay, we can be a banker, a carpenter or a farmer for the journey. Bankers give us more money and services than the other two, but we have to work harder. Makes sense, bankers are posh fuckers.” He said, making your snort.

“What do you think we should be?” He asked, looking at you.

“I'm usually a carpenter. But, what do you want to be?” You replied, staring back at him.

“Let's try a farmer.” He said, typing in the three command. “Who's the leader of our party?”

“Well, you're the one working the keyboard, so you are.” You reasoned.

“Okay.” He nodded, entering his own name.

“Now we need four other names for the rest of the party.” You said, pointing to the blank list.

“Well, obviously you're coming with me.” Henry said, entering your name in the number two slot.

“Kal and Ghost can come with us too.” You giggled, amused.

Henry typed in the dogs' names into three and four, then looked at you from the corner of his eye for a moment, before typing in, Baby. “There, now everyone's coming along.”

You smirked at him, shaking your head. “Now, when do we set off?” You hummed, biting your lip. “Let's leave in April.” You said, pointing to the month.

“Done.” Henry nodded, and leaned forward a little bit. “We have four hundred dollars for all of our supplies!”

“You have to remember, Puppy, this was the 1800's, four hundred dollars was a fortune back then.” You told him, chuckling at his outrage.

“Yeah, you're right.” He nodded, calming down, and continuing on. “All right, what do we need to buy for the journey?” He sighed, studying the list in front of him. “Oxen and clothing.”

“Yep, I can't remember what the max on oxen are, but it'll tell you.” You told him, biting your lip.

“Okay, Oxen first. There's two oxen per yoke and he suggests, at least, three and they're—fucking hell, forty bucks!” Henry roared, his mouth falling open at the price.

You busted out laughing, rocking back on the couch. “You make millions from your movies, and you're outraged by forty dollars. I love this!” You sobbed, your body shaking. “We're not even on the trail yet!”

“I'll get five.” He huffed, rolling his eyes and moved onto food rations. “Two hundred pounds for everyone, but with the way you eat, I should probably get triple that.”

“Watch it, Cavill.” You warned, narrowing your eyes at him.

Henry smirked at you, giving your cheek a quick kiss. “Three hundred might be okay. You said we can hunt.” He said, typing it in and moved onto clothing. “Says two for each person. So, there's five of us and that's ten, I'll get twelve, just in case.”

“Uh-oh, Hen. We only have four hundred bucks and we're at three hundred and eighty.” You smirked at him.

“I got this.” He said, waving his hand at you.

“All right, Mr. Gamer.” You chuckled, snorting at him.

“Oh shit, the spare parts are ten each!” Henry snapped, gasping.

“But, you got this!” You replied, teasing him.

“I do got this!” Henry answered, going back to the oxen screen and shifted the amount, then did the same with the food, clothing, ammunition and spare parts. “Ha, four hundred dollars on the dot!” He smiled at you, victoriously.

You held up your hands, grinning at him. “You're the leader of the wagon.” You giggled at him.

“That's right!” He chuckled, turning back to the game. “Let's go on a journey!” He said, hitting the space-bar and starting you all on the trail. “April 1, 1848.” Henry read aloud. “Weather is cool. Our health is good. Pace is steady and the rations are filling!” He said, then got the wagon going.

You and Henry watched the little pixelated wagon and ox move across the screen, a meter of distance, weather, health, food, the date and the next landmark down below it. But the wagon hadn't moved for two seconds, when it stopped and a message appeared on the screen.

“Oh no!” You gasped, reading it. “Kal's broken his leg!”

“My boy!” Henry yelled, outraged.

“At least he's still alive!” You replied, patting Henry on the leg. “Hey, we reached Superman country!” You declared, as the wagon stopped in Kansas.

Henry snorted, shaking his head. “Let's look around.” He said, then typed in, yes, only to discover you had reached a body of water. “We have to cross the river.” He frowned, reading the outline. “It's rather far across and deep.”

“Maybe we should ferry it.”

“We can't.” You smirked, trying not to giggle.

“Why not?” Henry replied, looking at you.

“Ferries cost money, good sir, and you spent all of it.” You reminded him, losing your battle, and chuckled at him.

“Fuck.” He snapped, carding a hand through his hair. “Okay, fine. We'll ford it.”

“Here's to hoping we don't sink.” You commented, crossing your fingers.

“And we fucking sink!” Henry barked, his shoulders slumping.

“Losing almost all our clothing, forty-three bullets, one wagon axle and tongue and—oh no...” You puffed your bottom lip out and cast your eyes down to the floor. “Kal downed.” You cooed, heartbroken.

“This sucks!” Henry pouted, but still continued on, making you giggle.

“I'm still with you, Puppy.” You cooed, hugging your arms around him and resting your chin on his shoulder.

“Not another river!” Henry whined, his head hanging, as the wagon stopped again with another message.

“Try floating across it this time.” You said, still hugging him tighter.

Henry sighed, watching the wagon slowly move across the water, only to fall over. “Well, at least it was only bullets this time.”

“We're really low on food.” You commented, quietly. “Hit enter and try hunting.” You told him, nudging him gently.

Henry hit enter, pausing for a moment to look at the map and groaned, you weren't even a quarter of the way across to Oregon. “This is insane.” He commented, going back to the enter screen and picked the hunting option.

“This is so strange.” Henry said, looking at the practical stick-figure holding a stick rifle that spun when he used his arrow keys and pointed differently with his number keys, shooting out little white dots that were supposed to be the bullets.

“Look at that!” You smiled, watching him manage to shoot three buffalo. “Now we have more food!” You said, proudly.

“But, I only carried two hundred of the thousand pounds back to the wagon.” Henry replied, pressing his lips together.

“Food's food.” You replied, kissing his neck.

“Shit, you've been bitten by a snake.” He growled, scowling at the offending message.

“All well, it happens.” You shrugged, watching the screen.

“No!” Henry yelled, as the message about Ghost getting dysentery came up, then two seconds later the message that he died. “God damn it.” He sighed, watching the food meter run out. “We're going to starve.” He mumbled to himself, realizing there were no bullets left.

“You're going to be the last man standing.” You replied, offhandedly.

“Why do you say that?” He asked, turning his head to look at you with an expression that broke your heart, he looked so upset at the fictional thought of you and Baby starving, in a game.

“The leader of the wagon tends to be the last one to die, for some reason.” You answered, moving your hand up and gently rubbed the back of his head. “At least, that's been my experience.” You added, softly.

“Hm.” He hummed, low in his throat.

A minute later, a message appeared on the screen, announcing you had cholera, almost immediately followed by your death. You felt Henry's body tense beside you and gently nudged your nose against the side of his neck, you felt a small qualm in your stomach, seeing baby get a snake bite and knew what was coming, and suddenly felt you should have just suggested monopoly.

“It's just a game, Henry.” You whispered, looking at him, not even bothering to look at the screen.

Henry nodded his head and sighed, licking his lips as the game ended with his death, the last one to die, just like you said. He shifted beside you, his arm snaking around your legs to hug you closer to him as he sighed heavily, and gently pressed his forehead to yours. You rested your chin on his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his upper body, realizing just how attached to you and the baby Henry had become, especially the safety of you both, which warmed your heart. You both were quiet for a long while, enjoying your closeness, before Henry's eyes met yours for a moment and you tilted your head at him.

“Let's try it one more time.” He said, pulling away from you.

You blinked at him, caught off guard for a moment, sure he was about to kiss you, but shook it off. “You sure?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Yes!” He nodded, getting back to the start screen for the game. “We're going as a damn banker this time.” He growled, going through the motions of setting up the trip. “Oh, we getting sixteen hundred dollars this go around. But I'm making you leader this go around.” He said, typing your name in, followed by his, Ghost and Kal's.

“Hm.” He hummed, staring at the fifth spot on the list.

“Just make one up.” You told him, knowing his hesitation.

Nodding his head, Henry typed a name in.

“Aquillon?” You frowned at him.

“It's the name of a guy, known as the Emperor's Eyes, in Warhammer 40k.” Henry grinned, blushing. “It's part of Adeptus Custodes.” He explained, shyly.

You chuckled at him, amused. “I should have known.”

“Let's go on the trail in March.” Henry said, continuing on. “Five ox. Three hundred pounds of food. Fourteen pairs of clothing. Three of all the spare parts.” He mumbled to himself, going down the list of items, all totaling almost five hundred and thirty dollars. “I think that's okay.” He commented, glancing over at you.

“We'll find out.” You answered, nodding back at him.

Starting on the trail, you ended up with a blizzard and lost a day, then went on the wrong trail and lost four days, before finally making it to the first landmark. You moved along the trail, getting lost, losing Kal to downing again, the wagon got robbed during the night, having half of your food stolen. But soon you reached a grave site and Henry examined it, to discover it was his grave from the last game.

“Look! We made it farther that our last try!” He grinned at you, triumphantly.

“That we did, Puppy.” You smiled back at him, your fingertips tracing his spine. “Look, we're halfway!” You said, watching Henry bring up the map.

“Yeah, but we've lost Ghost to bad water.”

“You also keep getting dysentery.” You laughed, seeing the message for the third time, then gasped. “Henry, no!” You cried, as the messaged of his death from, shocker, dysentery popped up.

“Go on without me, my love! You're almost to Oregon!” He laughed, grinning at the screen.

A minute later the congratulations screen came up, as you made it to Willamette Valley, Oregon.

“It's literally only me and Aquillon with one wagon, fifteen oxen, which is over kill,” You laughed, grinning. “Four spare parts, eight pairs of clothing, two hundred and forty bullets, because we did zero hunting, two hundred and forty-three pounds of food and three hundred and seventy-one dollars.” You listed off all the supplies you had left at the end of the journey. “All of that gives us a total of eight hundred and one points for the game.” You giggled, thoroughly amused by the outcome.

“How the hell does that guy have seven thousand points!” Henry retorted, mouth dropping open at the leader board screen.

“Apparently, he knows da wae.” You joked, wheezing. “But hey! This is the first time I've made it all the way to Oregon!” You told him, hugging his arm. “You're a damn good banker. You suck as a farmer, though.” You teased him.

Henry chuckled, dropping his head forward to hide his blush. “Yeah, I'm pretty decent with money, not so much with toiling in the dirt.” He replied, before glancing at his watch. “But I need to check on the pizza dough.” He said, getting up and padding into the kitchen.

You followed after him, watching him pull the bowl out of the proving drawer and set it on the counter. The dough had risen nicely, so Henry lightly dusted his cutting board and turned the dough out onto it, divided it into two equal balls, then covered them with a clean tea towel and set a timer on his phone for ten minutes.

“Right, while we wait for the ten minutes, I'll get the Egg ready.” Henry smiled, heading out to his back deck.

Henry opened the large, green and egg-shaped grill, removing the inserts to fill the grill with charcoal, then put the rack back in with the pizza stone, so it would be ready for preheat. “You all right?” He asked, as he came back into the kitchen and found you bent over the kitchen counter, your forehead pressed to the cool wood.

“Mmhm.” You mumbled, arching your back downward with a soft moan.

“You don't seem like it.” He retorted, brow furrowing at you.

You sighed softly, looking at him from under your arm. “Just my back and hips, is all.”

Henry moved behind you, resting his palms on your hips and gently pressed his thumbs into the small of your back, starting to methodically work up and down your spine. You moaned, your eyes rolling into the back your head as Henry applied just the right amount of pressure and hit all the right spots, turning you into putty. Henry chuckled, feeling you melt under his palms, glad that he was bringing you some amount of relief and comfort from your pain.

“Better?” He cooed, massaging your hips.

“God mode.” You sighed, pressing your cheek to your forearms.

“Glad to be of service.” Henry laughed, kissing the back of your head. “Let's get these pizzas together.” He said, squeezing your hips and moved away, pulling out some ingredients for a quick pizza sauce. “This'll only take about ten minutes.” He said, pulling out a saucepan and set it on the stove.

“The suspense is killing us.” You teased, watching him add olive oil over medium heat, followed by crushed tomatoes, Italian seasoning, dried oregano leaves, basil and thyme, sea salt, freshly ground pepper and a dash of sugar with minced garlic.

“There we go! Now, to assemble these and fire them!” He smiled, carefully pouring the sauce into a bowl.

Using the still floured cutting board, Henry stretched both pizza dough into something that sort of resembled a circle, then put a thin layer of sauce on it, before grabbing the fresh mozzarella, cutting slices of it and layering them all over the pizzas, followed by the toppings you wanted on one of them, then the toppings he wanted on his.

“Onion, really?” You commented, watching him spread them out.

“It's not broccoli.” Henry smirked at you.

“Touche.” You chuckled, rolling your eyes, playfully. “They look good.” You smiled, nodding your head, approving.

“That they do.” Henry agreed, smiling across the island at you. “Any last minute adjustments?” He asked, lifting an eyebrow at you.

“Nope.” You shook your head, excited about the pizza.

“All right, let's get them get them baked then.” He said, picking up the cutting board and started towards the backyard again.

You slipped off the stool and followed after him, stepping onto the back deck as Henry set the pizzas on the shelf connected to the Egg, then opened its lid and lit the charcoal beneath it. Closing the lid again, so the grill would preheat, then glanced over at you and frowned.

“I'll be right back. Protect the pizza, Kal might try and steal them.” He chuckled, before going back inside for a moment and coming out with one of his hoodies. “Here, so you don't get cold.”

“Thanks.” You smirked, taking the dark blue garment from him and slipping it on, the soothing scent of Henry filling your nose as it settled around you.

You watched Henry check the thermometer on top of the grill's dome, opened the lid, releasing a rush of heat, then grabbed your pizza, wanting to feed you and the baby first, knowing you must be starving at this point, and situated it on the hot pizza stone, before shutting the lid again and set a timer.

“Here's to hoping these come out well.” He said, taking a seat beside you.

“I have all the faith in you.” You smiled at him, resting your shoulder against his.

“Oh, I forgot to take a photo of your pizza, before I put it in!” Henry gasped, slapping the heel of his palm to his forehead.

You laughed at him, shaking your head. “It'll be fine. You can still take one of yours, and take one of mine after it comes out.” You told him, patting his thigh.

“Yeah, true.” He nodded, digging his phone out of his pocket and pulling up his camera, then stood and snapped a couple angles of his pizza, before noticing he had a missed call from his manager, but brushed it off, not wanting to take his attention off of you and the great time the two of you were having.

“So, have you been thinking about names?” He asked, sitting back down next to you, pocketing his phone.

“I have.” You replied, with a soft sigh. “I've got a small list so far.” You told him, pulling out your own phone and pulled up a Google Document, before passing your phone over to Henry.

“Let's see what you have.” He smiled, skimming through the list. “Oliver, is a good name. Tristan. I like Gideon. Jason is really strong and solid.” He said, liking the names you had. “Skylar is unique.” He smiled, glance over at you, and handing your phone back.

“Kelly wanted me to add, Dane, to the list, because she's a fan of Dane Cook, the comedian.” You explained, taking your phone. “But all I could think of was kids at school and the playground making fun of him and calling him, Great Dane.” You snorted, shaking your head.

“Yeah, kids can be very cruel.” Henry agreed, a shiver running down his spine.

Henry's alarm went off and he opened the Egg, filling the air around you with the alluring scent of the pizza, making you moan and your mouth water, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you leaned forward, catching sight of the golden crust, bubbling and melted cheese, and caramelized bacon, your stomach rumbled and the baby kicked in anticipation. Henry slipped a pizza board underneath the pizza and gently lifted it, checking beneath it to make sure it was thoroughly cooked, before pulling it out and setting it back on the cutting board.

“It's a little more brown on the bottom.” He said, putting his in next.

“That's fine, as long as it's edible.”

“Definitely is!” Henry smiled, leaning over your steaming pizza and took a deep whiff of it.

“All that we care about then!” You grinned, rubbing your dancing belly.

“Oh, he's so excited to try my pizza!” Henry said, proudly, laying his hand on your stomach. “I'm flattered, little guy!” He beamed, rubbing whatever appendage pressed against his palm.

“Compliments to the cook.” You giggled, looking up at him.

With both pizzas cooked, you and Henry went back inside the mews, where Henry made you a fresh cup of Ginger tear, before you both settled on the couch together, finding something to watch on the tv, while munching on your food.

“You out did yourself, Hen.” You moaned, nodding your head as you ate your bite of pizza. “This is perfect.” You told him, finding it was just the right proportion of crust, sauce and toppings. “How's yours?” You asked, looking over at him.

“Other than being maybe in a minute or two longer than needed,” He answered, inspecting the half-eaten slice in his hand. “It's pretty delicious. So, I'd say we nailed dinner.” He smiled, proud of the teamwork and outcome.

“I quite agree.” You smiled, taking another bite.

“Do you mind if I take a shower?” You asked, after helping Henry wash the dishes.

“Absolutely not!” He replied, putting the last plate on the dry rack. “Let me get a towel for you.” He said, moving around you and to the linen closet in the hallway outside his bedroom, taking out his fluffiest towel and set it on the bathroom counter, then stood there for a moment, tapping his foot, then turned and went into his walk-in closet, pulling one of his shirts off of the hanger and added it with the towel.

“That's a stupid idea.” He mumbled to himself, reaching out to grab it.

“You in there, this little person has to pee.” You called out, laughing.

“Fuck.” Henry barked, scurrying out of the bathroom. “All yours.” He smiled, hoping he looked casual.

“Thanks, I wouldn't want to upset Kal, by popping a squat in the yard and cover up one of his spots.” You joked, oblivious. “Might start a turf war.”

“I'm pretty sure it would.” Henry laughed back, relaxing, always finding himself at ease with you.

You grinned at him, gently touching his arm as you brushed by him into the bathroom. Henry bit his lip as he watched the bathroom door close, but swallowed it down and went about settling the house for bedtime. He grabbed a pillow from his bed and a blanket from the hall closet and started making up the couch, listening to the sound of the running shower in his room, while also trying not to think about your naked body, dripping wet.

“Stop, Cavill.” He hissed at himself, punch fluffing his pillow against the arm of the couch. “It's not going to happen.” He told himself, sure you wouldn't want anything of the sort, while you were expecting.

The shower cut off and a few minutes later you came out into the living room, Henry looked up at you from where he sat on the couch and instantly beamed, you stood beside the couch in nothing, but a pair of underwear and his shirt, your belly making a tent in the front of the black fabric, you looked so beautiful.

“Feel better?” He asked, looking you over.

“Much.” You nodded at him, smiling back at him. “What are you doing?” You frowned, motioning to the couch.

“Going to bed.” He replied, patting the pillow.

“Here?” You asked, surprised.

“Well, I can't have you sleeping on the couch.” Henry replied, chuckling.

“But this is also your house.” You countered, lifting a brow at him. “Besides, we're both adults, aren't we?” You asked, a lingering suggestion in your eyes.

The tip of Henry's tongue poked out, licking his lips as he stared back at you, his blue eyes darkening. “We are.” He nodded, agreeing at you.

“Then, why don't we go to bed?” You asked, cocking your head towards the hallway leading to Henry's bedroom.

A smirk tugged up one corner of Henry's mouth. “I won't argue with that logic.” He replied, standing up and grabbing his pillow.

“I shouldn't hope so.” You chuckled, following him down the hall to bed.

Henry tossed his pillow on the bed and pulled the blankets down, while you turned the lights out, then met each other on either side of the bed. A slight shyness coming over you both, before you climbed into bed first. Henry took a calming breath and laid down on his back beside you, feeling slightly stiff, he had just closed his eyes and was trying to will himself to sleep, when your side of the bed jerked and you burst out into a fit of giggles.

“What are you laughing at?” He asked, unable to prevent the grin from pulling across his mouth as he listened to you become almost hysterical.

“You're so stiff!” You laughed, tears streaming down your face. “What are you worried about? That scene for Alien, where that little creature pops out of John Hurt's stomach?” You asked, slipping your hand under the blankets and pushed it out above your belly.

Henry's head jerked back on his pillow, as he fell into a fit of laughter himself, pressing his palms to his face. You snorted as you watched Henry fall apart beside you, and felt him relax as well. He pulled his hands away from his face, the rise and fall of his chest slowed down as he caught his breath, he looked over at you, still grinning, and his blue eyes shining with amusement.

“It's just I've never really been in bed with a woman before, the first time, without it being...intimate.” He confessed, chewing on his bottom lip. “So, I'm not entirely sure what to do with myself.”

You laid there for a moment. “We could cuddle.” You suggested, meeting his eye again.

“I don't want to crowd you.” Henry protested, softly.

“Trust me, I can't get anymore crowded.” You chuckled, pointing to your belly.

“Yeah, you can move away from me, you can't do that with the baby, now can you?” He smirked, shyly.

“Nope, he lets me know that all the time, too.” You chuckled, rubbing your stomach over the blankets.

“Well, I'm down for snuggles with the two of you.” Henry confessed, liking the idea of you cradled against him.

“All right then.” You smirked, then turned onto your side.

Henry gulped softly, turning to face you and wiggled closer, while gently easing his tall and muscular body around you, pressing his knees into the back of your calves, his hand lightly resting on your hip and sighed as he relaxed, a gentle smile on his lips. You rested your back against Henry's chest, loving the warmth radiating off him and seeping into you, making you hum contently. Reaching out to take his hand from your hip, you gently placed it on your belly with a gently pat, making Henry chuckle and kiss the back of your head.

It was a few hours later that Henry woke alone in bed and frowned, sitting up, feeling his heart start to race and breathing quicken, not understanding why you weren't in bed with him anymore. Had you waited until he fell asleep, then crept back home, or had something happened with the baby and you just hadn't bothered waking him to go to the hospital. So caught up in his panic, Henry didn't hear the flush from the master bathroom or you calling out his name.

“Henry.” You repeated his name, quickly waddling to the edge of the bed, freaked out as you watched him gasp for air, reaching out to lay your hand on his shoulder, making him start. “It's all right, Henry. It's just me.” You reassured him, eyes wide with concern.

“You're still here.” He wheezed, looking at you, surprised.

You looked around the room, then back at Henry. “Yeah.” You nodded, brow pinching. “I just had to pee.” You told him, slowly sitting down on the bed next to him. “Where else would I be, Hen?” You asked, gently rubbing his back, trying to calm him down.

Henry took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, scrubbing his palms over his face, feeling stupid and clingy. “I'm so sorry. I just woke up, and you weren't there. I don't know what came over me.” He rasped, gulping thickly.

“It's fine.” You nodded, offering him a sweet smile, brushing your fingers through the back of his hair. “You want to lay back down?” You asked, motioning behind him.

Henry nodded and the two you laid back down, curling up together, Henry's hand moving around to cup the underside of your stomach, reassured by the gentle bumps of the baby pressing against it as he fell back to sleep.

When Henry woke up the next morning, you were still nestled against him, snoring softly and relaxed, he couldn't help, but watch you sleep for a while longer, before carefully getting out of bed, so he could start his fasted cardio for the day. But, he didn't make it to his elliptical, when his house phone rang and he ran to pick it up, before it woke you up.

“Hello!” He answered in a loud whisper.

“Henry, why haven't you been answering my calls!” His manager barked back.

“Dany.” Henry grinned, clearing his throat. “I've had company over.”

“Oh yeah, is it the pregnant woman you were photographed with?” Dany asked, her voice no less searing.

A hard lump formed in Henry's throat. “What?” He squeaked, eye twitching.

“Photos of you and a pregnant woman have been popping up all over online, most recently at the airport. But the blaring ones are of you getting into an altercation at a grocery store, with her.” Dany told him.

“So, who's the father, Henry?” She asked, bluntly.

Henry almost blurted out that he was, just to shut his manager and the rumor mills up, but he bit his tongue and raked a hand through his hair. “Her ex-boyfriend.” He sighed, dropping into a chair in his dining room. “She and I met on Tinder,”

“You made a Tinder profile, without telling me!” Dany barked, horrified.

“It was a moment of...desperation...of—loneliness, Dany.” Henry admitted to his manager, biting his lip. “I didn't actually expect to match and meet up with anyone, let alone a woman that was a couple months pregnant. But we started talking and...” A grin pulled across his face as he thought about the last several months he had spoken to and hung out with you. “I don't regret a single moment of it. It's been amazing, she's amazing, and so is that little one inside of her.”

“Henry, you're not that kid's father, you have a career to focus on, and a project in Jordan to think about.”

“And I am focusing on those things, Dany.” He frowned, not liking her tone or what she seemed to be hinting at. “I can do both.”

“Are you telling me, you want to help her raise a child that isn't yours?” Dany asked, sounding skeptical. “Did she ask you too?”

Henry pressed his lips together, mauling the idea over, he hadn't considered the idea fully, neither of you had really voiced how serious your relationship was. But the more Henry thought about it, the more his head bobbed. Yes, if your relationship turned to the serious, he would do everything in his power to help you raise that little boy, he didn't care if he was the biological father or not.

What mattered to Henry was you and the baby.

“Yes, I would.” He finally answered Dany. “We haven't spoken about it, yet. But we still have time too, and that's between her and I. No one else, Dany.” He told her, firmly.

“Fine then, but people are talking about her online.” Dany sighed, shaking her head.

“That's nothing new.” He replied, rolling his eyes. “They're going to think what they think. We can't change that, and I'm not going to force her into something she doesn't want.” He told her, knowing you liked your privacy, and wanted to respect that.

#Henry Cavill #henry cavill x reader #viking-raider fics #henrycavill #henry cavill fanfic #Swipe #Swipe *Fic* #Fluff #Cotton Candy Goodness #Angst #Sass #Henry Cavill Fanfic #Henry Cavill Fandom #Henry Cavill x You #Henry Cavill/Reader #Henry Cavill x Pregnant!Reader #Part Three #pregnant!reader

[missgeniality]

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna​​ is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this!   This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy! 

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods. 

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning. 

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold. 

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity. 

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully. 

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.” 

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?” 

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation. 

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?” 

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious. 

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well. 

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight? 

BTS is on your flight? 

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography. 

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger. 

BTS who? 

Biggest boyband who? 

You only listen to Frank Sinatra. 

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally. 

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours. 

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help. 

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved. 

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could. 

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back. 

Aw, you are in trouble. 

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face. 

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true. 

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth. 

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you. 

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you. 

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all. 

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile. 

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.  

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean. 

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.” 

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..” 

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in. 

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb. 

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.” 

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.  

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told. 

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep. 

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began. 

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you. 

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you. 

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you. 

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family. 

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen. 

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request. 

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement. 

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.” 

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck. 

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart. 

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him. 

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon. 

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.” 

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence. 

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car. 

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you. 

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that. 

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of. 

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far. 

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode. 

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma. 

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this. 

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong. 

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do. 

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall. 

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!" 

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!” 

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor. 

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so. 

But you’re not anyone else. 

He isn’t just anyone.  

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two. 

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours. 

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century. 

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind. 

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours. 

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation. 

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end. 

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark. 

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.” 

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible. 

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken. 

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him. 

The elevator door opens, and people walk out. 

But that’s not where your attention is. 

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm. 

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad. 

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present. 

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.” 

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” 

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile. 

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too. 

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space. 

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!” 

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed. 

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again. 

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.” 

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”. 

The punctuation was not vocalized. 

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself. 

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there? 

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna. 

So far, no sign of him. 

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far. 

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode. 

And then you hear it. 

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but. 

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck. 

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight. 

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight. 

 “Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement. 

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is. 

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart. 

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.” 

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first. 

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own. 

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes.  “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.” 

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter. 

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?” 

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight. 

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger. 

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware. 

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer. 

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue. 

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch. 

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates. 

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?” 

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air. 

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative. 

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?” 

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress. 

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured. 

“On your knees.” he commands.  

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.” 

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on. 

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm. 

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head. 

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise. 

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly. 

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him. 

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him. 

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.” 

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over. 

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench. 

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening. 

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod. 

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum. 

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you. 

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him. 

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss. 

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair. 

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt. 

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room. 

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom. 

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you. 

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention. 

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought. 

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret. 

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch. 

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth. 

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way. 

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face. 

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs. 

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem. 

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-” 

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him. 

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason. 

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard. 

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him. 

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making. 

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls. 

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat. 

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it. 

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response. 

“Go on baby, ride me.” 

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better. 

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!” 

“That’s fucking right, only me.” 

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away. 

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve. 

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full. 

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high. 

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face. 

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!” 

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.” 

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way. 

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole. 

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs. 

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core. 

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours. 

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.” 

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon. 

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart. 

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.” 

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness. 

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy. 

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance. 

He finds none. 

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go. 

You inch closer. 

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his. 

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win. 

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words. 

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst. 

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows.  You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him. 

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far. 

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up. 

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement. 

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

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[thepictureofsdr]

i love my girl cordelia so much but i’m really gonna need her to actually defend alastair at least once in cot, because her track record in that department aint lookin too good

- “’your father adores any carstairs’ said cordelia ‘im not sure it’s to my particular credit. he may even like alastair.’ ‘i think he has convinced himself alastair has hidden depths’ said james. ‘so does quicksand,’ said cordelia.” - cog page 29

EXCUSE ME?!? so much is wrong here. “may even like alastair”?!? why is she suggesting it’s a sign of just how powerful will’s carstairs bias is that he would like alastair. why would it be some crazy occurence that someone should like your brother. why would only someone with a huge carstairs bias just MAYBE like alastair. HMMMM?!? then comparing alastair having depths to quicksand?!? james suggests a potential good thing about alastair and she immediately says even a bad thing can have a good quality like that?!? she essentially compares alastair to something widely regarded as bad and says that bad things can have certain qualities WHY ARE YOU COMPARING YOUR BROTHER TO QUICKSAND i dont give a single fuck about how cordelia felt about alastair or james in the beginning of chog, it’s sibling code 101 you DO NOT shit talk your sibling with people who dont like said sibling, AND ESPECIALLY DONT ACTIVELY PLAY INTO A FRIEND INSULTING THAT SIBLING??? maybe lovesick is meant to be taken literally because this is sick in the head i hate it 

- just,,, the entire wedding reception scene. she says nothing as her friends threaten to throw her brother into the river thames, insinutate that he (the brother who has given away his entire life to protect her) makes her uncomfortable, and flat out tell him that he deserves horrid treatment. she asks whats going on but not once does she outright tell them to stop. 

- she stands by and watches matthew manipulate alastair (i explain in this post) and then she says it was kind?!? ma’am what

- i know this isnt defending him related but just adds to the track record of her making me uncomfortable with her relationship to alastair the entirety of the eavesdropping scene with alastair and charles. i was so uncomfortable the entire time what made her think that was okay it annoying but honestly atp it’s just cassie ruining a scene w her refusal to give us an alastair pov it’s not cordelia’s fault she gotten written into that debacle

- “perhaps you think i am awful, still loving him” - coi page 297

i cannot explain just how angry this single quote makes me. how dare she suggest that there is anything wrong with her loving her brother, especially when said brother gave up his childhood, practically ruined his life just to protect her and the family. at some point we shouldve seen her telling matthew “i understand how alastair fits into the story of what happened to the baby but your decisions were yours alone i dont see how alastair can be blamed for this” i think it wouldve been cruel for her to say that in the moment, but it couldve been said later, because why in the name of god is she suggesting someone would think her awful for loving alastair especially in regards to a situation where alastair was simply the messenger. where is her defense of alastair? why does she immediately look to please a recent friend and not defend the brother who kinda destroyed his life to protect her? why would she even THINK that loving her brother is anything except exactly what she’s supposed to do let alone say something like this? (because of their relationship, i’m not saying you owe blood siblings anything just because of genetics i’m being specific to them) how little faith and love do you have to have for someone to even think of saying this? to suggest someone would think your love awful instead or defending a loved one or simply saying nothing against them? literally anything wouldve been better than her saying that she didn’t even half to defend alastair she could’ve comforted matthew without condemning her relationship w her brother?

- “patrol is always going to be dangerous. thats just part of the job, like demons and alastair carstairs-” he broke off, turning bright red “ah, cordelia i-” she smiled pleasently “did you just remember that alastair is my brother” - coi pg 170 thats it? no telling him off? nothing?

- “for that matter it couldve been alastair” (talking about who could be the murderer) “matthew” cordelia said furiously “must we keep bringing up my brother? alastair may be many things but he is not a murderer.” “i just like to blame him for things,” matthew said a bit sheepishly. - coi pg 172 why does it take accusing alastair with literal serial murder for cordelia to step up and actually say something in defense. and this isnt even defending him this is just saying he isnt a murderer. and then matthew just flat out says he likes to blame random shit on alastair, just likes to bring him up to insult him and she has nothing to say to this, she just moves on. where is her fire when it comes to defend the only person who’s spent almost their entire life protecting her. :I

theres probably one or two more that i forgot please lmk if you know any moments i left out, i adore cordelia but this girl really needs to step it up in the sibling department. 

#chain of gold #chain of iron #chain of thorns #the last hours #tlh #the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc #the infernal devices #tid #alastair carstairs #cordelia carstairs #anti cordelia carstairs #i’m not sure what to tag this #matthew fairchild #james herondale #the merry thieves