#Fix Apple Notes

[wundrousarts]

Going to do a Nevermoor series reread in June + July + August ? if anyone else also wants to do a reread around that time, could be fun to have more of the fandom prepping for Silverborn

Did initially make a roadmap plan to split the books up into weeks on top of already being months, so that people could focus on specific parts and discuss each week….. but between the fact that I messed it up the first time, Silverborn kept getting delayed as I planned it, and I’m actually really bad at keeping to stuff like that (looking at you, Silverborn Countdown Challenge…) I’m deciding to just go for it at whatever pace happens.

[butterrdream]

Based off:

Big Ol’ WIP I’ll probably never finish. I remember starting this when the redraw meme was a big thing and then just never finishing it lol

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent images I suppose ~

[lunammoon]

i wish more than anything that people online actually got Vivienne bc currently i have to defend her far more than i would want to because so many people don't GET her and end up accusing her of being the wrong kind of annoying and so i have to defend her as if she doesn't remind me of one of my most frustrating to talk to cousins

[deviousdayz]

I am. Pissed off

[anistarrose]

[ID: incoming text messages on iMessage. It reads, "Okay listen," "Your vibes were off at apples bees," and the typing indicator of a bubble and ellipsis. End ID.]

[starset-sarsaparilla]

ides got me remembering my wip of sirius right after he killed caesar……….. and its stuck on my out of commission ipad 💔💔🥀

[lokissweater]

miss pretty

{single dad!katsuki bakugo x kindergarten teacher f!reader}

summary: katsuki bakugo has never liked mess and always made sure his son and his life reflected just that. with years worth of a sparkling clean and organized home, toys put away and not once scattered about, and a barking knack over any calls of disorder in his life— meeting you, his sons sweet and sugary kindergarten teacher who was the definition of pure and who was for some reason turning his fiery heart into complete goo— was altering his boring strict cycles of no messes around… and for the better.

warnings: cursing, FLUFFF GALORE MY GAWD??, no smut but a lil steamy something, slight angst, afab!reader, katsuki thinks you are an ANGEL, sunshine x grumpy trope, mentions of abandonment, WHOLESOME AFFF, use of y/n, all characters are aged up.

word count: 11.4k

authors note: THIS MAKES ME WANT TO BE A MOTHERRRRR omg this one is sickeningly sweet and i’ve gotten a few requests to do sunshine x grumpy with sir katsuki and i WAS ALLL OVERRR ITTT i hope i fulfilled!!! <333 THANK YOU THANK YOU AS ALWAYS FOR ALL OF YOU BEING SOOO SWEETT TO MEEE I LOVE YOUUUU MWAAAHHH :] <33333

katsuki bakugo hated messes.

“oi!” he grunted, his son’s little head turning to look at him as he munched on his gummy fruit snacks from the backseat. “you better not leave that wrapper in here. take it outside with you when i drop you off.”

“kaaayyy!” his son dragged out happily, completely unphased by his dads snappy personality as he contemplated on which color fruit gummy to eat next.

“and wash your hands too. ask your teacher.”

“mhm!” he chirped.

“and don’t be a brat. pay attention.”

“yup yup!”

and for the most part, his life reflected that almost entirely— raising his son to always clean up after himself and not make bombastic huge messes around the house, begrudgingly understanding that he’s a small growing human, that a little spill of apple juice or two is basically guaranteed… but he just hated mess, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t raise his son right to be a clean and organized man even at five years old— katsuki keeping everything in his life practically spotless.

that was of course, until he met you.

katsuki shoved through the other parents in line as he went up to the front desk in the main office with a grip on his sons little hand, not giving a damn about the glares and huffs of bewilderment he got as there was no way in hell he was gonna wait like an idiot with the rest of them.

the lady at the front desk raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“can i help—”

“where the fuck is room twenty four.”

her eyes bulged open as the rest of the parents in line softly gasped and murmured.

“e—excuse me?—”

he rolled his eyes.

“room twenty four.” he pushed. “where is it?”

“sir— if you need me to help you i’d like you to wait in line until—”

“hah?! absolutely not.” he spat. “if i wait in that fucking line my son’s gonna be late why can’t you just tell me—”

“uh sir if you could—”

katsuki’s son giggled as he continued to spout profanities at the poor front desk lady.

“—sir please no foul language there are children around—”

“i don’t give a shit! just tell me where room twenty four is what the hell is so hard about that?!—”

“oh! that’s my class!”

katsuki snapped his head over, fiery red eyes shooting towards the voice until they landed on yours.

“is he one of my kids?” you smiled sweetly, eyes coming down to look at his son.

“oh—” he let his shoulders relax just a tad as he watched you fix the strap of his sons backpack on his shoulder. “i mean— if your class is twenty four—“

“it is!” you beamed, nudging your head. “i’ll show you where!”

“hiii miiiissss!” his son greeted, happy and silly as he followed you down the hall.

“hi honey!” you gushed, just as excited as he was as you patted over his blonde scruffy hair. “what’s your name?”

“milo!”

“nice to meet you milo! are you excited for your first day?”

“yeaaahh!” he cheered, smile bright as he grabbed your hand.

katsuki’s eyes widened.

“milo!” he snapped lowly. “what’d i tell ya? you can’t grab her hand like that you have to ask—”

“oh it’s alright!” you dismissed, smiling. “i don’t mind it at all! the other kids do it too.”

milo snickered and stuck his little tongue out at his dad, and katsuki rolled his eyes.

“is he yours?” you asked kindly, tilting your head.

“who else would he be…” he grumbled.

“i guess you’re right!” you giggled. “he looks just like you.”

katsuki’s eyes flickered to yours before dropping back down, a permanent furrow in his brows as you all rounded the corner.

“here we are—”

“ooo! ooo!” milo hopped up and down. “miss you have race cars?! dad can i please go?!”

he looked over, a mountain of toys scattered about in the classrooms play area, little kids already making a damn mess and the school day hadn’t even officially started yet.

“the hell you asking me for? ask your tea—”

“miss miss can i please go play with the race cars?!—”

“of course my love! go! go have fun.” you smiled, gently ushering him on before milo zoomed over to the play area and crouched down with the rest of the kids.

“oi!” katsuki barked. “put them away when you’re done!”

he huffed under his breath as he watched his son give him a thumbs up and fucking dump the entire bucket of race cars down on the ‘abc’ play rug, taking one in each hand and dragging them across floor.

“he’s so cuteee.” you grinned. “i’m glad he’s not afraid being it’s his first day.”

“oh fuck no.” he mumbled. “milo doesn’t care. the little runt doesn’t have a filter and does whatever the hell he wants without askin’ sometimes.”

he leaned against the doorsill as he watched milo converse with another kid and share a car, satisfaction in his chest that his son was sharing and being nice.

“but i guess he gets that from me.” he finished off.

you nodded. “but that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

he pursed his lips.

“in my experience, not really.”

you hummed.

“i think it’s definitely a good thing… i’d rather be assertive of things and not be afraid of what the consequences will be.”

katsuki looked at you, properly this time.

“what’s a kindergarten teacher afraid of?”

you shrugged, a slow playful grin spreading across your face.

“parents.”

he snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and you quickly had to look away, a pink buzz to your cheeks at the way his big built arms flexed.

inappropriate inappropriate inappropriate—

“i don’t know how you do it..” he spoke lowly.

“do what?”

“take care of little shits all day.”

you laughed loudly, reeling over a bit as he watched you out of the corner of his eye.

“i don’t take care of them! i teach them.” you quipped cutely. “they’re small, but this is when their brains drink up the most knowledge… and i love to see the progress from the beginning of the year compared to the end! i love it all really.”

pure.

katsuki curtly nodded, your sweet positive ambiance throwing him completely off, as he doesn’t think he’s ever met or surrounded himself around someone who’s directly emmitted the feeling of sunshine and rainbows and candy as much as you did.

and his cheeks flared up for some reason.

“oh!” you looked to the time on your little wrist watch and walked inside your classroom. “it’s almost time to start! i have to wrangle them all in their seats heh!”

katsuki swallowed and nodded.

“milo!”

he turned and upon seeing his dad wave him over, milo dropped his toys and bounded to him.

“don’t give her a hard time alright?” he spoke sternly, nudging his head over at you for emphasis. “listen. listen and learn and be the best one in there.”

“kaaayyy!”

“and you let me know if any of the other kids mess with you or you deal with it yourself. you already know how—”

“beat the crap out of them!” he cheered loudly and katsuki’s hand flew to clasp over his sons mouth before his frantic eyes looked at you.

the last thing he needed was someone to call up fucking child protective services on him.

“he’s joking! he’s joking… fuck.”

you giggled hard and clutched your stomach, your pretty smile sending katsuki for a loop.

“no you’re absolutely right!” you waved your hands in front of your face, reassuring. “treat others the way you want to be treated, so if someone’s being mean to you, bite back milo, okay? and also let me know first though!”

katsuki gave you a wobbly tiny smile amidst his branded serious face, looking at his son then and ruffling up his hair.

“okay, go.” milo ran off. “and don’t let me pick you up with dirt all over your clothes ya hear me?!”

“byeee daaaddd!”

you could tell that behind his harsh exterior— the slight purse of his lips, stiff frame and bouncing leg gave away that he was only worried about his kid and his first day of school, a sight you’ve seen time and time again since you started working as a kindergarten teacher, and one that never failed to warm your heart.

“don’t worry!” you sweetly smiled, and katsuki switched his gaze over to yours. “i’ll watch him especially… okay? to ease the nerves.”

he softly snorted, attempting to play it off but internally relieved as he pushed himself off the doorsill and nodded, thankful that the teacher milo got was as kind as you.

“um…” he mumbled. “katsuki.”

you tilted your head. “katsuki?”

“it’s my name idiot.”

“oh!” you giggled, a blush rising in your cheeks again as you tried to simmer it down. “nice to meet you katsuki! i’ll see you after school then with milo?”

he stiffly nodded, the way his name sounded so sugary off your tongue something he’d never heard before in his life or was used to at all.

“…ya gonna tell me yours or what?”

“sorry!” you sputtered, laughing nervously. “sorry it just— flew! you know—”

you stuck your hand out and offered it to him.

“y/n!”

katsuki untangled his arms and firmly shook it, grip strong and one that nearly made you stumble forward as you caught yourself and smiled.

“i’ll see you katsuki!”

out of all of the kids you’ve taught, milo was by far the cutest one.

the little man was like your personal assistant— a little bee buzzing around as he followed you everywhere in the classroom and helped you clean up after the rest of the kids that didn’t, ‘yelling’ at some of them to and cutely scolding them whenever he’d catch them leave some things behind, and was always on watch for you like a security guard with his little balled up fists on his hips, surveilling the classroom for any misbehaving kids or messes that you’d missed throughout the day.

all traits you no doubt knew he got from katsuki, even if you had just met him. it was pleasantly obvious.

“thanks for helping me out today, milo!” you gushed, pushing another students chair in as they all sat down and chattered for lunch. “you made my job a lot easier!”

“really?!” he squealed, big glimmering eyes beaming up at you before he happily chowed down on some apple slices.

and you noticed then milo’s lunch was insane, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut up and molded neatly into the shape of panda bears, his watermelon and apple slices shaped like stars with carrots and celery lined up with a little wedge of lemon if he wished, tiny rice balls on the side for a little snack you figured in case what he had didn’t fill him up— all so considerate and careful…

“wow!” you exclaimed, kneeling down next to him. “your lunch looks so yummy my love! did your mommy make this?”

“nuh uh!” he shook his head, cheeks filled with watermelon. “my dad did!”

you faltered.

“katsuki made this?”

“who’s katsuki miss?” he asked curiously, sipping on his little juice box after swallowing the fruit in his mouth.

you giggled. “nothing! nothing. enjoy your lunch okay?”

you went to stand, but milo’s hand shot out and caught your wrist.

“can you— can you eat lunch with me?” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with some carrot pieces in his hands. “please.. i always eat with my dad but he’s not here…”

your eyes softened and you quickly nodded.

“of course! let me just go grab my lunch and ill bring it over! sounds good?”

“yaaaayyyy!” he cheered happily, arms up as you scooched a tiny chair over from a nearby table and sat with him, laughing at his cute expression.

you knew you shouldn’t use a little kid to pry… but you were guiltily curious as to know if katsuki was married or not for reasons that made you ridiculously flustered and red in the face over.

and you wanted to be respectful in case he was… since the ogling you did at his muscles this morning through his black ribbed tank was the most embarrassing moment of your career and one you hadn’t seen coming at all, it catching you off guard and feeling horrible if katsuki indeed had a wife.

but he didn’t have a ring on his finger…

“milo?” you spoke up softly.

he smiled big. “yes miss!”

“does your mommy make you lunch as well or just your dad?”

he shook his head. “just my dad! i don’t have a mom.”

your shoulders deflated.

he didn’t have a mom… at all?

you slowly reached over then and patted his blonde hair, smiling warmly as his cheeks went pink. “that’s alright! i’m sure your dad makes you lunches like this every time huh?”

“yeah!” he gasped excitedly. “yesterday he made pizzas and cut them into dinosaurs! it was so cool! and then!— and then this morning for breakfast i had waffles that looked like dynamite blasts!”

“oh my goodness!” you giggled, your heart absolutely thumping over the fact that katsuki was so dedicated to his son like that. “man, i wish my lunches were as cute as yours!”

his little eyes snapped to yours.

“i’ll tell him!”

your brows furrowed confusedly. “wha—”

“to make you lunch! i’ll tell my dad to make you lunch!”

your eyes widened and you frantically shook your head, cheeks blazing as you laughed. “oh no my love! that’s totally okay don’t worry about me silly—”

“i’ll tell him i’ll tell him i’ll tell him!—”

“milo it’s okay! i’m a big girl.” you grinned. “i’m supposed to make my own lunches.”

milo grumbled and plopped a carrot in his mouth, begrudgingly chewing as he sat there in thought.

“…will you at least let me share some of mine?”

you pouted at his generosity, wondering how a kid could be so sweet as you nodded and held your hand up.

“of course sweetie! whatever you wa—”

milo plopped all of his peanut butter sandwiches in your palm and grinned, earning a gasp from you.

“milo this is too much i can’t—”

“eat it! eat it! eait it!—”

by the end of the day, you managed to get milo to take back his sandwiches in exchange for one singular watermelon star piece, him still doing his regular duties of being your little assistant and helping you clean up after everyone before the final bell rang signaling the end of class, you carefully making sure each kiddo got their designated backpack (as there was often a mix up) and art pieces they made for their parents to take home— a permission slip for the end of the year field trip tucked away inside their bags.

and the minute you stepped outside with the rest of the kids, you were surprised to see that katsuki was one of the first parents there as he stood directly across from your classroom with crossed arms, an angry usual scowl on his face that made you laugh to yourself as you led your kids to sit down on a bench in a single file line until their parents physically came to get them or their vehicles pulled up.

“milo!” you tapped his shoulder gently. “your daddy’s over there!”

“DAAADDD!!”

milo jumped up and ran across the grass, his tiny arms out as katsuki smiled softly and crouched down to pick his son up and settle him on his lower abdomen, you wringing your fingers behind your back and walking up to them.

“were you a brat?” he grunted.

“nope!”

“did any kids mess with you?”

“nope!”

“did you leave a mess?”

“nope!”

you giggled, and katsuki’s eyes snapped in your direction.

“how was he?”

“he did so good!” you gushed, patting milo’s back as he grinned. “was my little helper and everything! didn’t leave a single mess behind and helped me clean up after everyone else… he even made sure everyone was paying attention and not misbehaving.”

“yeah! yeah! see dad?” milo poked his dads cheek. “i didn’t lie!”

“never said you lied you little runt.” he scowled. “…but good job.”

“thanks!”

katsuki set him down after milo started kicking his legs and saying something about the swings, him instantly running towards the playground and to the slide.

“did he actually do all of that?” he spoke up.

“oh yes!” you quickly nodded. “i’ve never had a kid do that before so it was really nice of him to!”

you detached your fingers from around your back and fiddled with them.

“you teach him well katsuki.”

he scoffed and turned his head, cheeks pink as he tried to regain his composure.

“damn right i do.”

you giggled then, the memory of milo telling you he didn’t have a mother suddenly popping into your mind as you watched him happily slide down the blue slide head first.

“hey i don’t mean to um..” you timidly began. “i don’t mean to pry but—”

katsuki raised a brow at you and you snapped your mouth shut.

“nothing! nothing nevermind—”

“spit it out.”

“no it’s alright! sorry i—”

he glared and you cowered, smiling bashfully as you bit your bottom lip.

“milo… milo mentioned that he didn’t have a mommy? i was just— wondering if that was true…”

“tch—” he shook his head. “that’s what you were afraid of askin’ me?”

“i told you i’m scared of parents…” you slumped cutely, and he chuckled.

“it’s just me and him.” he answered. “his mom’s never been a part of our lives.”

your heart sunk a little, eyes sad as your gaze shifted to milo playing and racing around with another kid.

“don’t do that.”

you jumped and looked at katsuki.

“do— do what—”

“look all sad and shit.”

he hesitantly reached over and planted an index finger to the crease between your brows, the feeling rough as he tried to gently drag it down and smooth over the lines.

“it’s fine.” he grumbled, letting his arm fall to his side. “it doesn’t bother him. at least i don’t think it does.”

“no!” you spoke quickly, a crazed blush on your cheeks. “it doesn’t! and milo speaks so highly of you… especially the lunches you make him.”

his brows furrowed. “his lunch?”

“yeah!” you nodded excitedly. “you prepare it so so well! how do you get his sandwiches to look like little bears? and his fruit?! every time i try to cut mine into stars they always break in half…”

he huffed out a laugh, finding your little whine funny as he reached over and ruffled up your hair, you smiling cheekily in response.

“do you use molds?” you asked politely. “to shape out the bear?”

“fuck no.” he scoffed. “i do it myself.”

your eyes flew open.

“what?! so that’s really just you? and the dinosaurs too? the pizza dinosaurs? and the waffles? the ones that looked like dynamite blasts—”

“jesus christ how much did that kid tell you?”

your face grew hot as you smacked a hand over your mouth.

“sorry!” you giggled. “i just was thinking— that his lunch was really cute and thoughtful…” you took your hand away from your face. “i’m really glad that you do little things like that for milo to make him happy.”

katsuki stared at you, your swarm of compliments and sweetness and sunshine and butterflies almost suffocating as you looked at him with those pretty doe eyes, his throat oddly closing up the longer he stared right back and allowed you to pull him into your world of wonder and abc blocks and puzzles.

but it wasn’t suffocating in a bad way, not at all.

and… maybe he did want you to pull him in.

“dad dad dad!”

milo ran over, sweaty and red faced as he reached the two of you.

“there’s a dead lizard in the slide!”

“a dead lizard?” you laughed, surprised as you reached for his little water bottle from his backpack on the ground and uncapped the lid, handing it over and ushering him to drink.

katsuki didn’t know why the domestic sight of you doing that made him melt a bit.

a bit.

“yeah miss! it was big and gross.” he breathed out after gulping some of his icy cold water. “but i buried him!”

his dads red eyes snapped down to his and narrowed.

“don’t tell me you touched that thing milo.”

“i did!” he giggled.

“oh my fucking god—” katsuki snatched his hand and started pulling him to the car as milo giggled and stuck his tongue out.

“it’s a prank! some other girl in my class did… but i helped with the dirt!”

you chuckled softly as you watched katsuki stop and roll his eyes, coming back over to you with a hyper milo.

“say bye to your teacher ya little runt. and you’re still taking a shower when you get home!”

“but i don’t wanna take a showeerrr!” milo whined, letting go of his dads hand and running to you, you crouching and extending your arms big with a pretty smile.

“bye my love!” you hugged him tight as he giggled. “i’ll see you tomorrow okay? and give your daddy a break. no more digging up dirt and playing with dead lizards.”

“kaayyyy!”

you both let go and he stepped back, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before bouncing back to his dad.

katsuki choked on his spit.

“oi!” he barked. “you can’t just kiss her cheek milo the hell is going on with you?!—”

“it’s okay don’t worry!” you smiled kindly. “he’s just being sweet is all! i don’t mind.”

“you sure?” he pushed, milo snickering. “i—”

you waved him off and wrung your fingers behind your back, leaning forward.

“i’ll see you tomorrow morning kats!”

and he froze, nodding hard as he quickly took milo’s hand and backpack before walking to the car, his heart completely aflame in his chest and cheeks red as he led his babbling son further into the parking lot and inside the car, buckling him up in his car seat before hopping in himself and starting the engine, unbelieving that he had barely just met you and he was already thinking and acting like a fucking dumbass.

“and then we learned the days of the week! oh!— and we learned numbers! i can count to fifteen dad!”

“that’s good milo.” he responded, pulling out of the schools parking lot and craning his neck to see if he could catch a final glimpse of you and settling once he did, you so pretty and conversing so nicely with another kid until he was out of the lot.

“did you eat all of your lunch? y/n tells me ya shared with her.”

“i did! i did share with her.” he grinned. “she liked my lunch!”

“good.” katsuki gave him a thumbs up through the rear view mirror. “that’s good that you always share. especially with her.”

“yup yup! she’s preeettyyy.”

he rolled his eyes, but a small smile grew at the corner of his lips as he nodded curtly.

“that she is.”

katsuki continued to drop off his son personally at your classroom every morning before school.

even when it had been a couple of months into the year, at this point many students already used to their route to and out of class and their parents just dropping them off and leaving— them not even allowed on campus as security rounded every corner and told any parents who wished to go in that they weren’t supposed to, as per policy.

but not katsuki.

katsuki didn’t give a fuck as he stormed through the main office and ignored the calls of the front desk lady, her already used to the rude asshole who came through the building every morning as he strode by and down the hall to class twenty four… wanting to see you— his son’s pretty kindergarten teacher that was sweet and joyful and someone who was everything he wasn’t, his mind curious and filled with your giggles and smiles throughout the time that he’d gotten to know you and chat with you in the mornings and the afternoons, loving the way you were with milo and treated him like he was literally your own— always watching over him and making sure he had had enough to eat and drink and that his hands were washed when he wasn’t around.

and even katsuki himself— you bringing him candy bags from their classroom parties or donuts that were passed to faculty in the mornings and saving yours for him, treats he always took and ate with no questions asked even though he wasn’t a fan of sugary shit and junk food, always making the exception for you.

he had never experienced honest help like that… he’d never experienced someone caring enough about him and his son like the way you did so perfectly every single day…

and katsuki feared that he was a little obsessed.

“oh! miss y/n!”

“yes honey?” you responded kindly, opening a juice pouch for another student and handing it to them carefully during lunch.

milo dug into his lunch pail and pulled out a small container, sticking his hand up and offering it to you.

your brows furrowed, taking it from him.

“what’s this milo?”

“it’s from my dad!”

you stopped, heart dropping to your ass as you recounted his words.

from katsuki?

“your— your dad?”

“mhm!”

you shakily popped the lid of the container open, eyes widening and filling with hearts once you saw a mix of star shaped strawberries and watermelon and papayas, drizzled over with sparkling strings of honey and singular little blueberries scattered about.

“for me?” you asked softly, crouching down next to milo. “my love— are you sure this isn’t for you? i think your dad cut these up for you—”

“nope! for you!” he gave you a big toothy smile before stuffing his mouth with crackers. “he told me not to eat it and to give it to you.”

he swallowed and reached up, you tilting down your head so he could pat it just like you always did for him.

“i hope you like it miss! they look like the ones you told me looked cute!”

“i— i love them milo.. thank you!”

you picked up a papaya piece and ate it, entirely dazed and love struck as your tastebuds savored over the sweet velvety thick honey, literally blinking back tears at how thoughtful and kind katsuki was.

he didn’t have to do this at all… yet he took the time anyways out of his morning to do this for you.

and your heart nearly fucking gave out.

after school once you got your rowdy kids to sit neatly on the bench and wait for their parents, you extended a hand for milo and he hopped off the bench and took it, you both walking up to a waiting katsuki as he stood there with a soft smile on his face.

“hi kats!”

“hey.” he picked his son up and settled him over his abdomen, milo’s arms clinging around his neck and chin propped up on his dads shoulder as he was exhausted from a days worth of playing and learning.

“i wanted to um—” you peered up at him. “i um—”

his brows furrowed, and just as he was about to bark about you stumbling over your words, he stopped.

your bottom lip was trembling.

you hurriedly wiped your eyes.

“i wanted to thank you—” hic! “f—for the star shaped fruit this morning—”

“why are you crying dumbass?” he mumbled, reaching over and wiping some tears with his rough fingers.

“because it was so nice!” you sobbed, shoulders shaking as you let him wipe your cheeks. “and— and you put honey over it too! you didn’t have to do any of that for me!”

“tch—”

he flicked your forehead softly, not enough to hurt you but enough to get you to snap out of your hiccups as you sniffled.

“it’s just fruit y/n—”

“but it’s not.” you wiped your eyes again. “not to me anyways…”

katsuki slowly lowered his arm, gaze tracing over your pretty face and perfect hair and the way you cried over something so stupid, his brain unable to process the fact that an act as simple as cutting fruit up for you could make you this happy, and it made him want to see what you saw for once— how you saw the world for exactly what it was and appreciated it regardless of how big or small things were, not snippy or angry or spiteful over everyone and thinking everything was out to get him and his son.

“crybaby…” he grumbled. “i’m glad you liked it though.”

“i did kats.. a lot. thank you.” you wiped the last of your tears and smiled. “i’m sorry i cried.”

what a pretty sweet girl…

he shook his head and hoisted milo up, him completely knocked out with drool coming out of his mouth as katsuki felt it run down his shoulder, barely even noticing that though as his entire focus was trained purely on you.

was it okay if he… asked you out? would it be weird? would you tell him to fuck off?

katsuki internally rolled his eyes at his stupid fucking high school boy thoughts, though it didn’t alleviate the gnawing feeling that if you did tell him to fuck off… that he’d be angrily mortified at his fail and probably lose the right to talk to you since it’d be too awkward to.

but you were just so fucking sweet. all of the time.

“listen uh—” he cleared his throat, face growing hot. “i was wondering if ya wanted to eat dinner with me… sometime.”

you stared, eyes big and shocked and katsuki took it defensively and entirely the wrong way.

“forget it.” he snapped. “forget it i didn’t say shit—”

“no! no no—” you quickly shook your head. “no it’s okay i would!”

he stopped.

“you would?”

“of course!” you expressed sweetly, cheeks hurting from how big you were smiling as you tried to simmer down your giddy squeals. “i’d love to have dinner with you…”

his tense shoulders slowly relaxed, an eventual small smile growing on his face.

“a—alright uh…” he sighed. “i’d prefer to take ya somewhere nice but i don’t really have anyone to watch milo—”

you shook your head again, brows pinched. “oh no kats— we don’t have to go anywhere at all! we can order something in at your place and eat with milo? or— or my place?”

“my place.” he replied. “and i’ll cook.”

he cooks?!

“okay!” you giggled, your hand reaching up and patting over milo’s sleepy head gently. “sounds good!”

katsuki and you agreed on the details of the date after and bid each other bashful goodbyes, swooning as you watched him walk away into the parking lot with a sleeping milo in his arms and feeling like none of this was fucking real, for you couldn’t believe someone as handsome and cool as katsuki would ever be interested in someone like you.

and funnily enough, he felt the complete opposite, stressed and extra snappy as he cleaned the house from top to bottom (though it barely needed it), unnecessarily fixed the positioning of the furniture and made milo put away his toys, him not even whining or protesting like he usually did solely because the little man knew you were coming— pretty miss y/n with the pretty smile and the nicest lady he had ever met, and one he secretly hoped would be his new mommy every time he saw you and his dad converse before and after school, thinking you would fit the role perfectly.

especially after his dad had given you those fruits as a present!

“milo!” katsuki called. “come ‘ere!”

his son ran into the kitchen, toy race car in hand. “what!”

“be good today, ya hear me?” he pushed, face stern as he flipped a kitchen towel over his shoulder and sautéed vegetables in his frying pan. “please milo. don’t try to be funny and do somethin’ to scare y/n off.”

milo gave him a look.

“scare miss y/n off? dad you’re gonna scare her off not me!” he giggled. “silly.”

“yeah..” he grunted. “you’re probably right but i’m just sayin’. i’m thinking of the time grandma came over and ya put that fake rat in her purse to try and be funny.”

“ohhh yeeeeah!” he doubled over in little fits of laughter, holding his stomach as he did. “i did do that!”

“see what i mean?” katsuki grumbled, snatching the kitchen towel from his shoulder and throwing it down on the counter top, stepping back to peek in the oven. “you better not do that with y/n please.”

“i won’t!” he grinned. “not when she’s about to be my new mommy!”

katsuki choked as his spit went down the wrong pipe, bending over and coughing uncontrollably in his elbow before spinning around and looking at his son with wide eyes and pink cheeks.

“the hell you just say?”

“what!” milo tilted his head. “that y/n is gonna be my new mommy?”

his eyes grew even wider as he dropped the pan he was holding on the stove and leaned back, running his hands over his face.

“oh you little runt please don’t say that in front of her, alright?”

he pouted. “why not?”

“you’ll scare her off! worse than when you put that fake rat in grandmas purse!”

“boooo!” milo stuck his tongue out and crossed his little arms over his chest. “whatever.”

“oi!”

“what!”

katsuki’s doorbell chimed and milo booked it to the front door.

“missss preettyyyy!!—”

“milo get your ass back here!—”

katsuki swung the door open and swooped his son in his arms just as he was about to pounce on you in midair, you giggling and covering your mouth as you watched the scene unfold before you.

“i’m sorry—”

“hiii misss y/nnn!” milo greeted happily, dangling off of his dad as katsuki tried to stop him from wiggling out of his grip. “i’m so exciteeeddd!—”

“hi my love!” you gushed warmly, smile wide as you extended your arms and walked forward, taking milo in your arms and setting him on your hip. “how are you? you excited to hang out with meee?”

“yes! yes!” he vigorously nodded. “i wanna show you all my race cars!”

“oh i can’t wait to seeee!” you bounced him on your hip and he giggled, you turning your attention and smiling at katsuki.

“hi kats!”

“the little brat is hogging—”

milo blew a silly raspberry at him before wrapping his arms around you and shoving his face into your neck.

you laughed and ran a soothing hand over the little man’s back, katsuki rolling his eyes before stepping to the side and letting you in, shutting the door behind him and leading you over to the kitchen.

and jesus christ you looked beautiful, him noting that pink was what you mainly wore on the day to day as he eyed your small rosy cardigan, you walking through his home and looking around and oblivious to the way he was staring at you like a fucking creep.

katsuki bit the inside of his cheek as he watched your eyes scan your surroundings, stupidly nervous about what you’d think of his house and furniture and minuscule decorations, and annoyed with himself that he’d even give a shit about something like that, trying to occupy himself and ignore it as he looked in the oven and lifted lids of various pots and pans, checking over tonight’s dinner.

“i’m sorry i’m behind…” he grumbled and waved his hand around. “had to clean the house and shower milo since he decided to play in the fuckin’ mud this morning.”

“oh you don’t have to apologize for that kats!” you looked at him worriedly. “you don’t have to apologize for anything i totally understand…”

you hoisted milo further up your hip and grinned. “i’m just happy to spend time with the both of you.”

katsuki felt smoke puff out of his red ears as he nodded and scratched the back of his neck, turning slightly and lifting the lids from his pots and pans again.

“miss preettyyyy!” milo whined. “when can i show you my race cars?!”

katsuki scowled and you laughed.

“now honey! but how about we move some of your toys to the living room so i can spend time with both you and dad? how does that sound?”

“yayayay!!” milo cheered, bouncing on your hip as you smiled cutely and set him down, him running off down the hall and you quickly following after him.

milo talked you through his entire collection of race cars as you both sat down on the living room rug— telling you the model of each and every one, what they did, how fast they went, they places they’d gone, and which were his favorites as you excitedly talked to him about his cars and shifted conversation between him and katsuki, a task he was surprised you did so efficiently, but then quickly realized that that was literally your fucking job everyday dealing with little brats talking your ears off and you attending all of them at the same time.

and when it came around to dinner time, you helped katsuki set up even through his snapping and huffing that you absolutely shouldn’t, you giving him a silly little face as you assisted anyways and set up milo’s booster seat, picking him up and sitting him down before buckling him up while katsuki placed your dishes on the table—

and gourmet fucking dishes at that.

you were bewildered. absolutely bewildered as you gawked over the lasagna platter he set before you, it delicate and fancy looking as he had even draped sauce on your gray ceramic plate in gourmet intricate designs, knowing that katsuki had mentioned to you he was a chef over the several months you’d gotten to know him, but you didn’t know exactly to which extent that chef occupation stretched to.

“kats…” you murmured. “what do you do for a living.”

“i told you idiot.” he passed over a couple of napkins and you gratefully took them, taking one then and wiping down milo’s mouth as he messily ate his cut up pieces of lasagna. “i’m a cook.”

“yeah but what kind? where?”

“why?” he gruffed. “does it look like shit?”

“no!” you giggled. “absolutely not the opposite actually! this is probably the most beautiful lasagna i’ve ever seen in my life.”

“duh.” he responded, but sent you a small smile as he ate. “i’m an executive chef down at a restaurant in the city.”

your jaw dropped. “the city?! you’re so cool kats! oh my goodness!”

his face flushed.

“my dad says his boss is a piece of—”

“don’t say it!” katsuki snapped at his son, eyes wide as you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing, not wanting to encourage the little man any further.

“milo i told ya not to cuss until you’re ten—”

“ten?!” you giggled loudly and let your hand fall, sticking your fork in your lasagna and eating. “as long as he cusses with you and not at you… i think it should be fine!”

katsuki stopped.

you get it. or you rile up his bad cussing habit. either or he might as well have found his fucking soulmate.

“miss pretty!” milo called.

“yes my love?”

“do you have a boyfriend?”

katsuki smacked a hand on his forehead and you snickered.

“i don’t!” you grinned. “why milo?”

“because i want you to be my new—”

“milo if ya shut your mouth right now i’ll buy you two new race cars tomorrow.”

his son gasped dramatically and pursed his lips shut, eyes big and excited as he tried to contain himself and do as told.

“his new what?” you tilted your head cutely, katsuki’s heart hammering against his rib cage as he stuffed his mouth with food.

he shrugged. “the fuck should i know?”

“but i wanna know!” you pouted, taking your final bites of your yummy dinner.

he swallowed.

“do you want dessert?”

you gasped. “oh my god yes! i do!”

“then i suggest you shut your mouth too.”

you laughed over the table, quickly nodding as you pursed your lips like milo and pinched your thumb and index finger together, running it across your mouth and twisting your wrist like a pretend lock before dropping your hand in your lap, giddy and excited over dessert.

katsuki playfully rolled his eyes and stood, collecting all of your plates and stacking them on top of each other before taking them over to the sink.

“dad!” milo called as he bounced in his seat, katsuki grunting in response.

“what’d you make for dessert!”

“mochi.”

“yaaaayyyyy!” he cheered happily. “can i eat it with y/n in the living room?”

katsuki’s brows furrowed. “the living room?”

“yeah!” milo exclaimed. “so i can keep showing her my race cars!”

he struggled for a moment before eventually nodding. “alright… but don’t make a mess i just cleaned—”

you and milo ended up building a fucking fort once he gave you the all clear, you both saying something about it adding to the ambiance as you used the couch cushions for makeshift walls and milo’s choo choo train sheets for the roof and tent, katsuki before he knew it his entire living room a fucking mess as the three of you sat amongst the scattered about pillows and blankets eating your bits of mochi, milo mainly inside the little tent you made for him as you and katsuki were too big to fit inside with him.

his living room was a mess… but he didn’t mind.

katsuki didn’t mind the mess.

your way of living was entirely different from his, as yours had everything to do with mess due to your full time job with kids— paint all over your hands and face, marker stains on your clothes and sticky glue residue and pieces of cut up construction paper somehow in your hair, all things katsuki despised for years and made sure his house never reflected any of that.

but in that moment, with his living room in complete disarray and the positioning of his couches utterly fucked up? the dishes still in the sink and the table still set?

katsuki didn’t fucking care.

because he had never seen his son so happy. he had never seen him so excited and hyper as you helped him set up and somehow tie fairy lights that katsuki had somewhere up in his attic for holiday seasons around the fort, you looking fucking gorgeous under the dim dark lightning as you read milo one of his favorite children’s books you got from his little shelf in his room— ‘the very hungry caterpillar,’ one of your favorites too as his son followed along with you and giggled whenever you’d make a silly joke only a five year old would find funny.

and katsuki felt warm… that’s all he ever felt when he was around you.

is this what it was like to be a family?

“oh my goodness i almost forgot!” you quickly sat up and handed milo the book, him taking it as you crawled over and reached for your bag. “i brought something for you honey!”

milo gasped and sat up. “really?! what?!”

you pulled out a ceramic cream colored globe with hollowed out stars, a small bulb inside as you scooched on your knees back over to a curious katsuki and milo.

“woah..” his son whispered. “what is it?”

you smiled and reached for the nearest outlet, plugging in the little globe and flicking a switch.

the darkened room illuminated itself then with the soft murmur of a lullaby playing, star shaped shadows slowly shifting around the entire living room as milo gasped and stood, frantically pointing at each moving shadow and gushing while his little mind was trying to process how cool and fascinating this was.

and all katsuki could do was stare at you.

stare at the way you sat back on your ankles and pointed with milo, counting how many stars you could see before it shifted and repeating that for fun, stare at the way both of your eyes glowed with wonder and curiosity, and stare at the way you smiled so gracefully and looked unreal now under the starry lights, his heart on overdrive at how gentle you were and how much you cared about his son.

about him.

and katsuki was sure then he was absolutely sick over you.

you all settled after a while of playing games and eating more mochi, especially milo, the little lullaby knocking him out as he snored next to you in his fort, you and katsuki laying down next to each other as you stared up at the shifting stars.

“i’m sorry i made such a mess in your living room..” you whispered bashfully. “i promise i’ll pick everything up before i leave.”

he shook his head. “don’t worry about it i can pick up. it’s fine.”

you smiled at him warmly before looking back up at the ceiling, feet planted on the blanketed flooring as your mindlessly moved your propped up knees side to side.

“was it hard raising milo on your own kats?” you asked softly, fingers wrung together neatly on your tummy.

“it was at first.” he mumbled. “but i got used to doin’ it on my own.”

you frowned, not particularly happy with the idea that katsuki had to raise a human being on his own without any help or guidance, wishing that he would’ve had someone there to help him every once in a while, or just be there for him.

“you did an exceptional job, okay?” you began. “you should know that... milo is such an honest kid… and he’s so precious too.”

katsuki’s eyes softened, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at you in fear of you noticing his stupid flustered face as he opted for keeping his gaze glued to the starry ceiling, your sugary peachy perfume not fucking helping as he decided to sit up instead.

“he is.” he grunted softly. “don’t know how his mom didn’t see that.”

you faltered and sat up with him.

“what do you mean?”

katsuki eyed you before looking down, hands flat behind him propping himself up as he thought.

“ah… milo happened because of some random hookup i had in college.” he mumbled. “didn’t love her or anythin’, i barely knew her but still told her i’d support her and the baby obviously.”

you nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“i was there through her entire pregnancy and when milo was born… but the minute she got discharged from the hospital and took him with her, i woke up at four in the mornin’ with a knock on my door and milo left abandoned on my doorstep.”

you gasped, hand hovering over your mouth.

“are you— are you serious?”

katsuki nodded.

“she wouldn’t answer my calls, my texts, nothing. i went to her house and found out she took the first flight she could to fuck knows where.” he shook his head bitterly. “but i didn’t give a shit about me i’ll raise him i don’t care. it was never about me.

he looked at you. “it was about milo. i didn’t want him to know that his ‘mom’ left him behind like that, and i didn’t want him to think it was his fault or anythin’… shits ridiculous.”

katsuki shifted his gaze back up to the ceiling. “still don’t know how she could ever do something like that.”

the sound of a hiccup make his eyes widen and snap back to you, your eyes filled with fat tears as your bottom lip wobbled, hands coming up to cup over your mouth and nose as you tried to keep it in.

“you’re crying?”

you nodded, squeaky slight sobs slipping past your throat as you strained to keep everything down.

“that’s so cruel.” you cried softly, embarrassingly drowning in your tears in front of him yet again. “you didn’t deserve that at all kats… milo didn’t deserve that you both should’ve had such a good mommy and— and a good support system—”

katsuki pushed himself up and wrapped his big arms around your shoulders, pulling you in and rubbing a hand up and down your back comfortingly.

“you cry over everything y/n.”

“s—” hic! “—sorry—”

he laid the side of his head on top of yours as you shook, somehow feeling guilty of what he told you just because of how much you were crying.

more than when he gave you those star shaped fruits.

“oi…”

katsuki pulled back and looked at you, reaching up and wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“don’t cry baby…”

baby?!

you funnily sobbed even more and shoved your face in his chest, him chuckling as he wrapped his arms back around you and gently swayed side to side.

“stop it idiot.” he mumbled. “it’s fine. it happened years ago n’ milo and i have always been alright on our own.”

…but he wanted you now.

now that he knew what it was like to be softly cared for by someone precious like you, to feel what it was like to be warm and fuzzy and sunshine and rainbows and candy all of the time… and katsuki wanted you so. bad.

“i know..” you hiccuped. “and i’m really glad but i just wish you had someone.”

you pulled away and quickly wiped your wet cheeks. “m’sorry i cried all over your shirt—”

“don’t give a fuck.”

you breathed out a laugh and dropped your hands in your lap, looking at your fingers as you sniffed.

you were always crying for him.

“y/n.”

“yeah?”

he looked to the side with a blush to his cheeks.

“thanks for comin’ today.”

you smiled brightly and nodded.

“of course kats! how could i not?” you looked behind you to a sleeping milo, reaching over and pulling his blanket a little further up his shoulders. “i want you to know that i wanna be there for you and milo…”

he shifted his gaze to you as you turned back around.

“whether— whether you wanna keep seeing me or not—” you gnawed nervously at the inside of your cheek. “which i hope you do! but— but if not that’s totally fine i just want to be there for you both…”

how were you so pure? so thoughtful?

“why the hell wouldn’t i wanna keep seeing you?” he huffed, grumbly and embarrassed as he pursed his lips. “i’d be stupid as fuck not to…”

you blushed, happy shiny eyes looking at him eagerly like he was everything and more, and he wasn’t used to people looking at him like that whatsoever as your gaze flickered down to his lips and back up.

and you were so pretty.

“y/n.”

“mhm?”

he slowly leaned closer.

“would you be mad if i made a move on you—”

“of course not—”

katsuki lunged and planted his rough lips on yours, you tasting like straight sugar and honey as he placed his big hands on the sides of you head and held you like a piece of delicate glass, kissing and sliding your tongues in each others mouths rather quickly and breathy as he moved one hand from your pretty face down to your waist to grip it.

you placed your hands on the blanketed floor and slowly crawled over to him during the makeout, him reaching and wrapping the rest of his built muscly arms around your waist and pulling you to straddle his lap as he ran his hands up and down your sides and back, wanting to feel you as much as he possibly could and squeeze you tight as he gulped your little self down, brows furrowed and lips red.

katsuki pulled away and ran his fiery wet mouth across your jaw and to the spot right below your ear on the side of your neck, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as he bit and sucked and still squeezed you, manhandling you in a way and eating you up.

your eyes fluttered open once you heard a slight rustle, your line of sight catching milo shifting a little in his sleep.

“k—kats—” you breathlessly whispered, pushing a little at his shoulders.

he grunted.

“milo—” you pointed. “he’s waking up—”

“the fucks that gotta do with us—”

“kats!”

he groaned and pulled his mouth from you, scowling over to see his son only shifted positions and was now directly facing the both of you, tiny eyes closed as he drooled and was probably dreaming about race cars and his dads shark shaped pb & j sandwiches.

“the little runt is fine—” he shoved his face back in and gnawed at your neck again as you gasped.

“nooo!” you whined and giggled softly. “now i’m scared he’s gonna wake up…”

he huffed and officially pulled away this time, red eyes dilated and half lidded as he looked over your pinky cheeks and shy face, the purple and blue mark he made on your neck making the right side of his lips curve up into a little prideful smirk, you too distracted to notice over the way he clutched and loosened up the hold on your waist repeatedly.

katsuki kept you on his lap and scooched himself down, laying on his back and head on the pillow as he nudged you to lay on him completely over his chest and body, you more than happy to do so as you settled your head on his pecs and got comfortable with his strong arms around you— feeling so safe and looked after.

and you hadn’t expected to sleep over… but you just didn’t wanna leave, and katsuki sure as hell didn’t want you to either as you softly and quietly talked over the small tinkling of the lullaby and milo’s soft breathing, shadowy stars still slowly shifting around you as you easily switched between various topics— ranging from serious to silly as you ran a loving hand over his chest and his on your back, the both of you subconsciously lulling each other to sleep until you were just as passed out on the floor as milo.

since then, katsuki didn’t wanna let you out of his sight.

as if he wasn’t already involved enough with milo’s school activities because of you, this man became a fucking member of the pta and volunteered himself for every single event so as long as you were there, helping you out especially with fundraisers and bake sales as his desserts always sold out quicker than anything else and made bank as he snickered and boasted at the other parents that weren’t selling as much, you giving him a silly glare that never failed to shut him right up as he wanted to be good for you and not upset you.

the front desk lady even went from hating him to loving him, katsuki grumbling and chucking her a bag of leftover fundraiser chocolate chip cookies on her desk as he passed by to drop off milo in the mornings, serving as a ticket way in and to get her to shut up now instead of yelling at him from down the hall.

and he continued to give you yummy star shaped fruits.

except now some days they looked like hearts or little flowers, and he always made his fruit assortments different so you wouldn’t get tired of them and added different dippings like caramel or chocolate hazelnut, you gushing and nearly bawling literally everyday whenever you’d open the container and milo giggling at you during lunch.

you also never went a day without stopping by or staying over at katsuki’s house since your first initial date, your days so much fun and filled with love as you ate lunch or dinner with the two of them, laughing at milo’s sporadic comments or katsuki’s barking and scolding while you either played with milo, helped katsuki clean up the house and him the kitchen or you the kitchen and vice versa, or simply cuddle on the couch with kisses shared amongst you and katsuki— the three of you with milo seated peacefully and comfortable in the middle while you watched a movie or lulled the little man to sleep.

and katsuki had never felt so complete as he started leaving messes behind without even realizing or stressing about it, and he didn’t know when the fuck it was that he turned so soft and sappy— the change a bit strange to those who knew him as he was just a teeny weeny less explosive and angry over small things, and more so when it came to you and his son.

“make sure you keep your little bucket hat on honey, okay? it’s hot today and i don’t want you to tire yourself out milo.”

the end of the year field trip for the kindergarteners this year was a voyage to the local wildlife sanctuary, a gorgeous exhibit that sat right next to the national science museum in your city, its main attraction being the 25 foot koi pond and butterfly wonderland that housed various butterfly species and their little habitats— the kids field trip assignment being to count how many they see throughout the day and pick one koi fish and butterfly to draw on their journals.

katsuki, of course, volunteered as a chaperone.

“single file line please my loves!” you called, hand by your mouth. “and don’t seperate from your friends okay?! everyone stay where i can see—”

“oi!” katsuki barked, snapping and pointing at a rogue kid who decided to break free from the line and run across the grass. “the fuck do you think you’re doing!—”

“kats!” you breathed out a shocked laugh. “you’re gonna get me fired if you talk to the kids like that—”

“shit! sorry— i’m sorry baby hold on—”

katsuki booked it across the grassy lawn and caught up with the running kid on the other side, the rest of your class giggling and cackling as katsuki swooped him up with one arm and dangled him upside down while he kicked and swung tiny punches to his abs, katsuki not even flinching.

“do that again and see what happens brat.” he spat, the little kid not having a single care in the world as he giggled with the rest of the class, all of them deviously planning to piss katsuki off as much as possible since his outbursts were just funny.

“okay okay—” you smiled apologetically at him before taking the dangling boy from his arm and setting him back down, fixing over his clothes and backpack before patting his head and standing upright.

“no more running alright?” you placed your hands on your hips. “don’t we wanna see some cute little fishies and butterflies?!”

“yeeeeaaaahhhh!!” the babies cheered excitedly, each of them immediately returning to their designated spots in two lines as you grabbed your line leaders tiny hands and started the walk down the grassy field to the sanctuary.

“lemme help ya with one line baby—” katsuki went to grab one of your line leaders hands until they burst into a crying fit.

“no! no! i wanna hold miss y/n’s hand!”

katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “what’s so bad about me hah?”

“you’re ugly! miss y/n is pretty!”

the rest of the kids ruptured, laughing as katsuki sent death glares to a literal child, about to spout something nasty until his eyes flickered to your pleading face, his muscles instantly relaxing as he casted his gaze to the ground with a grumble.

you giggled and gave him a sweet kiss to his cheek in gratitude, his face flushing as he eyed your deep blue overalls and pinky shirt and the way your sunglasses sat pretty in your hair on top of your head.

“what honey?” you tilted your head.

“none of your business.”

you snickered and nudged your shoulder with his, looking over at milo from somewhere in the line to make sure he was okay before walking up the front gates of the sanctuary.

the wildlife guide met you once you all were cleared and inside the greenhouse, your kids absolutely restless as they ‘listened’ to whatever the guide had to say and just wanting to break free and run around to look at all of the fishies and butterflies like you had promised, and you not even listening either as you drooled over the way katsuki’s muscles looked under his t-shirt.

“any questions sweetheart?”

“huh?” your eyes snapped to the guide, cheeks pink as you quickly shook your head. “oh! no not at all! thank you ma’am!”

“alrighty then! just please make sure to tell your students—”

suddenly your two perfect lines broke apart as the kids started running around and pointing at fluttering butterflies and screaming, the guide looking like she’d seen a ghost as the usual quiet and serene sanctuary was now the epitome of noise.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry—” you guiltily apologized. “my kids will settle down they’re just excited is all…”

the guide kindly waved you off before walking back to the main office, you turning and expecting to see katsuki standing next to you, but faltering once you saw he was on the other side and pulling one of your kids down that had climbed up the gates of one of the sanctuaries closed off exhibits.

“oh god..” you mumbled, about to make your way over until you spotted milo in a corner alone, staring at one of the koi ponds.

“milo?” you called softly, walking up to him.

your heart sank once he turned and you saw his little tear filled eyes and wobbling lip.

“oh no!” you gasped, crouching down and taking his tiny hands in yours. “what’s wrong my love? are you okay? is it too hot?”

you pushed some of his spiky blonde bangs back from his sweaty forehead as he shook his head.

“i can’t draw!” he sniffled. “and the koi fishies keep moving…”

your shoulders relaxed in relief.

“that’s okay!” you took his journal and pencil, wiping his wet cheeks as you smiled sweetly. “as long as we’re patient with the fishies, they’ll swim back and you can draw them again!”

you opened his journal and flipped to a new blank page, the both of you waiting quietly until a big chubby koi fish swam by.

“there!” milo whispered and pointed, and you quickly drew what you could, just making out the shape of the body before it disappeared again.

“and now we wait!” you grinned up at him. “the fishy will come back around and you’ll be able to draw it again.”

“kayyy!!”

“and you can draw milo. i’ve seen your artwork in class, remember? you always get a gold star!”

he giggled. “i do miss pretty!”

you ran a soothing hand over his back before passing his journal back.

“now you try honey—”

“i love you.”

you froze and looked up, katsuki standing there with a sincere and vulnerable look in his eye.

you stood from your crouched position and looked at him wide eyed.

“i’m not— i’m not good at this kinda shit at all and i always say somethin’ dumb but i do.”

“kats—”

“and i’m sorry it took me so long to say it but i tried to make it obvious with my stupid shaped fruits n’ shit… and i always thought you kinda just knew…”

milo was too busy focusing on catching glimpses of the koi fish to draw with his tongue peeking out to even realize what was going on next to him.

“you’re so patient baby. the way you are with me… the way you are with my kid. i need that in my life and i can’t live without it at this point…” he spoke genuinely. “your fuckin’ fault.”

you giggled and covered your face with your hands, face hot to the touch and bashful at everything he was telling you.

“come here.”

you listened and walked forward, dropping your arms as you wrapped them around his abdomen and his around your head, squishing you in his big chest as he propped his chin up.

“do you love me too or what.” he frowned. “cause if not this is shitty and embarrassing—”

“no i do!” you giggled, pulling away and giving him a cheeky smile. “i do kats you know that… i love you. so much.”

he smiled and pecked your lips. “good, miss pretty.”

katsuki had heard the entire conversation you had with his son, your words seeping with such tenderness and care, and he almost passed the fuck out when he thought about how much of a blessing you were, something he’d be a fool not to snatch up and take as he nearly fucking proposed to you in the middle of the sanctuary like an idiot, not knowing at all how a person that pissed people off for a living was loved by a woman who was the definition of pure.

because how the fuck did an angry dunce like him, get lucky with an angel like you?

“oh my god that dumbass kid is climbin’ the fence again— oi!”

katsuki quickly kissed your cheek before flying to the other side of the sanctuary, you doubling over in laughter as you watched him fight and tug and pull, your student not budging at all whatsoever and the rest of the kids laughing at how red katsuki was getting in the face.

“miss pretty!” milo tugged at your overalls, and you looked down to see him holding up his open journal, a cute wobbly sketch of a koi fish on the page as he smiled big. “i drew it! do you like it?!”

“wow milo!” you gushed, crouching down to his level and taking the journal, examining his artwork. “this is beautiful my love! see? i knew you could do it!”

“thank youuu!” he responded sweetly, his little cheeks blushing as he looked at you like he had another thing he wanted to say.

you tilted your head. “do you wanna tell me something else?”

“yeaaahhh.” he dragged. “please love my dad… i know he’s mean but— but he doesn’t mean it!”

your eyes softened as milo looked down at his shoes.

“and love me too… because i want you to be my new mommy…”

you quickly blinked back tears as to not alarm milo, surprisingly successful at preventing them from slipping down your face.

“i do love your dad honey… and you. the both of you i love so so much.”

he beamed. “really?!”

you nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “and i thought i was already your mommy milo!”

the little man gasped and flung his arms around your neck.

“YAAAYYY!” he yelled. “miss pretty is my mommy! i have a mommy now!”

ever since you came into katsuki’s life, his way of living materialized into something completely different.

because now instead of his house being plain and boring and organized from top to bottom without a single thing out of place— it was warm now… happy. and never went a day without smelling like cookies and vanilla as you and katsuki baked with milo any chance you could, set up more pillow forts and tents with starry ceilings, and slept with milo in his room as he snored content in his little bed, you sprawled directly on top of katsuki like he always had you as you both every day intended to leave after putting his son to rest, but ending up falling asleep on the floor each time.

the three of you were a little family.

and katsuki didn’t know why he hated messes so much in the first place.

because mess signified that something had been there, something sunny and tender, something that signified family as you peppered kisses over both your boys’ faces everyday and katsuki drowning you in his rough ones— your man squeezing you so tight all of the time and anywhere, as milo wasn’t just his son now but yours too as you took him to the park or to the aquarium on your days off, the three of you gently living as both of milo’s small hands were occupied now instead of just one.

katsuki’s life looked like it had been generously cherished and lived in for a change.

and katsuki bakugo loved messes.

so as long as they were from you.

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[buckyseternaldoll]

Filed Under: Inappropriate

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Scheduler!reader

Summary: You’ve worked hard to keep things professional—his schedule tight, your distance tighter. But when the scent of Congressman Barnes’ cologne lingers too long, it cracks your restraint wide open. You know better than to touch. But he hears everything.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni!), explicit sexual content, p in v, consensual workplace power dynamics, sensory kink, scent-based arousal, referencing hyper-sexuality, audio surveillance (non-malicious), oral (f receiving + m receiving), breast play, desk sex, possessive undertones

Word count: 4,720

You hated being in his office longer than five seconds. Not because Congressman Barnes was difficult—he was polite, measured, always thanking you after meetings. Not because he was cold—though his steel-blue eyes had a way of sliding over you like he was analyzing your pulse rate. No, you hated it because every time you stepped within range of him, something primal and traitorous stirred low in your belly.

It was the damn cologne.

Parfums de Marly Layton. You’d once caught a glimpse of the deep navy bottle on the edge of his hotel bathroom sink while reviewing his itinerary, and you cursed yourself for ever learning the name. Now, you knew exactly what it was each time it hit you: that heady swirl of green apple and vanilla spice, warm cardamom softened by the heat of his skin, all wrapped in something darker—amber, maybe. Something that clung to the cotton of his shirts and refused to leave even after he did.

You never asked about it. You wouldn’t dare. But every time you leaned over his desk to drop off his briefing binder or hover by the door to confirm his next flight to D.C., that scent latched onto you like it had hands.

And he didn’t know. Of course he didn’t.

You were just his scheduler. The woman in black slacks and button-downs who kept his life running in military-level precision. You booked his appearances, called in favors with lobbyists’ assistants, negotiated down overbooked town halls, and sometimes—God help you—had to step inside his hotel room to lay out the next day’s itinerary when he was too buried in calls to read his own calendar.

Those were the worst. When he’d answer the door in a fitted T-shirt, damp hair curling at his nape, Layton now mingling with sweat and steam, and you’d have to act like your knees weren’t about to buckle. You’d linger by the desk, pretending to triple-check the flight number. He’d pace behind you, reading notes off his phone, totally unaware you were trying not to moan like some harlequin heroine because of the way his scent swirled in the air-conditioned quiet.

You knew your place. And you played it well.

But God, if he ever caught on—if he ever looked at you the way you sometimes caught yourself looking at him—this whole operation would go to hell.

──

Your morning began, as it usually did, in his suite.

A quiet knock. A barely audible “Come in.” Then the ritual began.

You stood by the small conference table in his living area, tablet in hand, while Congressman James Buchanan Barnes moved with military-grade precision behind you. He never rushed. Never wasted a single second. His routine was something sacred—ironed shirt, gold cufflinks, navy suit freshly pressed and waiting on the valet hook by the door. You glanced at the clock. Right on time.

Then came the part that always undid you.

Three spritzes.

You didn’t have to look to know the bottle—Parfums de Marly Layton. He passed by you on his way to the mirror, the scent trailing him like a shadow: apple-spice and something almost resinous beneath. One spray around the base of his neck. Two on the insides of his wrists, which he then tapped against his collarbone in fluid, practiced motions.

Everything about Bucky was deliberate. Disciplined. Controlled.

You hated that it turned you on.

The ten minutes you spent inside that room felt like a test. You spoke as little as possible, eyes fixed on the screen while your body vibrated with restraint. The scent of his cologne—warmed by his skin and the faint trace of post-shower steam—curled through the suite, wrapping around you like velvet shackles. Your thighs pressed together more tightly the longer you stood still.

You reminded yourself—again—that this was your decision. You were maintaining abstinence. You’d been attending therapy. Learning to manage what had once consumed you. Learning how not to chase every high your body demanded. You hadn’t slipped in over six months.

But today…

Today something broke.

──

You shouldn’t be doing this.

You repeated that over and over again in your head, even as your thighs pressed together, even as you turned toward his chair—the one still warm from where he’d last sat—and let your body sink into it. The scent of him was stronger here. Thick in the upholstery, clinging to the wool of his blazer draped over the back. You exhaled shakily, nostrils flaring as Layton wrapped around you, pushed into every breath like it knew exactly what it was doing to you.

Your body throbbed with need, the ache long suppressed now boiling over. Your self-constraint screamed at you to leave. To remember your progress. To walk away.

But then your hand slid between your thighs.

And it was already over.

You felt the heat there—wet and pulsing—before you even touched yourself. Just the press of your palm over your panties made you gasp, the friction igniting a tremor that rolled through your whole body. The skirt you’d worn today—a rare choice—suddenly felt like a divine mistake. Or maybe it was fate. No slacks to fight with. No belt to undo. Just a soft fabric bunched around your hips as you slipped your fingers down the front of your underwear and found the desperate pulse of your clit.

“Fuck—” you hissed, biting down on your lip. One finger circled slowly, teasing and taunting, while the other hand gripped the armrest of his chair. Your head lolled back, the sharp scent of Layton clinging to your hair, your skin, sinking deeper with every ragged breath.

You didn’t realize how loud your breathing had gotten. The moans that had broken free weren’t whispers—they were real. Hungry. Shamefully sweet. And they drifted into the room like incense, thick and lingering.

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t possibly know—was that your voice wasn’t just trapped in the still air of Bucky’s office.

It was in his ear.

──

Bucky stood behind the curtain of the press hall, one hand on the mic clipped to his tie, the other curled into a tight fist behind his back. He was half-listening to the event organizer briefing him when something flickered in his earpiece. Static. Then—

“F-Fuck—Bucky…”

His name.

Moaned.

Soft and strangled and real.

His spine straightened like he’d been struck.

The voice was unmistakable. Yours.

The sound came again, clearer this time, riding a breathy whimper. His brow furrowed, sharp gaze shifting toward the assistant speaking in front of him—but he wasn’t hearing a word she said anymore.

He tapped the mic, subtly. The connection flickered. He recognized the signal.

It was from his office. From the hidden mic—one of several—planted into the base of his desk lamp. A holdover from another life. Not politics, but fieldwork. Survival. The kind of instinct that gets carved into your bones when you’ve spent years as a ghost, a weapon, an Avenger—an assassin. Even now, walking corridors of Capitol Hill instead of war zones, Bucky Barnes never truly relaxed. The security team had given him the green light to keep those recordings in place, citing precautionary measures. But really, they were for him. A way to feel safe, to control the perimeter, to know what was coming before it came.

But what he was hearing now had nothing to do with politics.

Your moans filtered through the line again, closer this time. As if you were leaning over the desk. As if your mouth was right beside the mic.

And suddenly he was hard. Painfully so.

The assistant cleared her throat. “Congressman? They’re ready for you.”

He blinked, nodded slowly, forcing a polite smile. But his mind was miles away.

Still in that room.

With you.

Bucky didn’t remember half of what was said onstage.

He answered questions. Shook hands. Smiled for the cameras. But his mind was nowhere near the press hall. It was still up in his office—haunted by the sound of you panting his name in gasping, breathless fragments.

He lasted exactly twenty-two minutes.

When the moderator thanked him for his presence, Bucky slipped away with the practiced grace of someone who knew how to disappear without making it a scene. He brushed off staff with a tight-lipped smile and a dismissive wave. “I’m taking a break. I need a few minutes,” he said. “Thinking about my mom. It’s her birthday today.”

A lie. One he hated using. But it worked.

No one followed.

No one asked questions.

And he made sure—damn sure—his guards knew to stay posted far from the east wing of the building. His office sat in the corner of a quiet conference suite, tucked behind a frosted glass door that bore his name and seal. No scheduled meetings for the rest of the afternoon. No assistants buzzing in. No unexpected interns to stumble through.

Just you.

Still in there.

Still moaning like you didn’t know your voice was crawling into his earpiece like the world’s most dangerous prayer.

He locked the door behind him the moment he stepped inside.

The click echoed through the room like a gunshot.

Bucky leaned back against the wood, hand still at the latch, jaw tight and eyes closed as your voice spilled through the earpiece—raw, needy, filthy in a way that peeled his self-control back layer by layer.

You hadn’t noticed him yet.

You were still in his chair.

One leg slung over the armrest, the other foot planted on the floor for leverage. Skirt pushed up, blouse half-open, hair mussed and falling out of its usual neat tie. Your fingers were buried between your thighs, moving in tight, desperate circles. His name fell from your lips in gasps, more broken each time. Whimpering. Pleading. Ruined.

He exhaled harshly through his nose, blood roaring in his ears.

“Christ,” he muttered.

What the fuck were you thinking?

He should’ve been furious. Should’ve been offended. Professional boundaries, and all that. But instead, something primal settled in his gut. A slow, molten heat that spread into his chest and pulled tight behind his zipper. Not just lust. Not just arousal. Possession.

You had no idea how close you were to being caught.

To being taken.

You didn’t even check the door.

Didn’t think about cameras or recordings or someone else walking in before him. You just trusted you’d be alone. Trusted that you were safe in his space. And instead of hating you for it, instead of calling it foolish—

Bucky felt proud.

Protective.

Turned on beyond belief.

Bucky stepped forward quietly, his boots making no sound against the polished floor.

You were close.

He could tell.

Your moans had gone breathless—rushed, rising in pitch. Each gasp of his name now came through the earpiece like a desperate confession. Faster. Wetter. Louder. He could see the way your hand moved beneath the hem of your skirt, the way your hips rolled against your own touch. That tension in your thighs. That flutter in your lashes. Your head thrown back like the chair was your altar and you were about to come in his fucking name.

He exhaled—slowly. Quietly.

You were so absorbed in your pleasure, so lost in that hazy world you’d escaped to, that you didn’t even hear the subtle swish of the door behind his desk opening. You hadn’t noticed that he wasn’t just in your head anymore—he was in the room. Close enough now to smell everything.

And God, he did.

He could smell the sweat on your skin, the arousal soaking through your underwear, the lingering trails of your perfume—the one you always wore on days you wore your hair up like that. Professional days, you called them. If only you knew how that messy bun was driving him wild now, the loose strands stuck to your damp neck, the little whimpers you didn’t even know you were letting out.

You made it so easy.

Too easy.

His jaw clenched as he watched you, throat dry with something that wasn’t just lust—it was fear. Fear of what could’ve happened if someone else had come up here. If a reporter had slipped in to snoop. If a staffer came to clean. If it hadn’t been him.

He was protective by nature. Obsessive by consequence. He didn’t trust easily, didn’t let people in, but you—

You were different.

You were the soft place in his otherwise brutal life.

And now, like a loaded gun left on the wrong table, you were vulnerable in the worst way imaginable.

Bucky’s fingers twitched at his side. He wanted to touch you. To pull your hand away and replace it with his mouth, his fingers, his everything. But he didn’t move. Not yet.

Because even with all that hunger burning in his blood, the soldier in him still wanted to study. Still wanted to watch.

Your breathing picked up again. Your body began to tremble, pleasure peaking. He could see it—feel it—in every breath.

And then you whispered it. “Bucky—please—” like you needed him to save you from drowning in your own ecstasy.

That did it.

He couldn’t let you finish—not without knowing he was there.

So he cleared his throat. Just once.

A low, deliberate cough.

──

Your whole body jolted.

Eyes flew open.

You froze mid-motion, thighs snapping together as if you could undo the last ten minutes by sheer panic alone. Heart hammering. Lungs stuck in your chest. The shame—white-hot and paralyzing—poured down your spine like ice water.

Then you saw him.

Leaning against the wall, suit jacket still buttoned. Tie loosened just slightly at the collar. His expression unreadable—but his eyes? Burning. Steady. Watching you like a man who had seen everything.

Because he had.

He’d heard everything.

And he didn’t look away.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even blink.

“You didn’t lock the door.”

His voice was low. Calm. But it carried—like a blade sliding from a sheath. Controlled. Dangerous. Precise.

Your whole body jerked upright in the chair, eyes wide, legs snapping closed so fast it made the chair squeak beneath you. You could barely breathe. Heart pounding, cheeks burning, hand yanking your skirt down in frantic, fumbling motions.

“I—I didn’t know anyone—God, I didn’t think—” you stammered, horrified. “I swear, I thought you’d be down there for hours—I didn’t mean—”

“Stop,” Bucky said gently.

Your mouth clamped shut.

He didn’t move toward you, yet. He stood just inside the office door, back against the wall, arms loose at his sides. But there was no mistaking the heat behind his eyes. That slow, burning intensity you’d only ever caught glimpses of in passing. Behind podiums. In briefings. When he leaned just a little too close with that cologne on and your legs would go weak for reasons you never wanted to admit.

“I’m not pressing charges,” he said. “You’re not losing your job.”

You blinked, speechless, heart still galloping like a terrified animal.

“But…” he continued, pushing off from the wall, walking toward you now with the same deliberate, panther-smooth grace that reminded you exactly who he used to be. Not just the golden boy congressman. Not just the tailored suit. But him. The assassin. The Avenger. The man who moved like a weapon and looked at you like he already knew what you tasted like when you came.

“You are in trouble,” he said, voice lowering with each step. “Just… not the kind you’re thinking of.”

Your lips parted. Breath caught.

Bucky stopped a few feet in front of you.

And that’s when you saw it.

The outline pressing hard against his slacks, thick and demanding, straining against the zipper like it was fighting to be free. Your throat went dry.

“Do you know what it’s been like?” he said quietly, almost like he was talking to himself. “Having to walk around with this—” he gestured to his head, his chest, his body “—with these senses. With you.”

Your brows knit in confusion, still trying to process the way he looked at you—like he’d already had this conversation with himself a hundred times and finally stopped trying to argue against it.

“I can hear your heartbeat spike when I walk by. Smell how wet you get when I lean too close.” His nostrils flared just slightly, steel blue eyes darkening. “You flinch like you hate me, but baby…” he chuckled, quiet and sharp, “your thighs say otherwise.”

Your apology died on your tongue.

Bucky took another step, now within arm’s reach.

“I know I shouldn’t have left that mic on,” he murmured. “Old habit. Leftover paranoia. I didn’t expect anything from it.”

His vibranium fingers flexed slowly at his side, gleaming under the low light of the office.

“But hearing you like that? Saying my name? Touching yourself in my chair? You’ve no idea what that did to me.”

He leaned down slightly, voice dropping to a rasp near your ear.

“Would’ve come up here sooner if I’d known you were hungry for me, sweetheart.”

Your whole body pulsed with heat.

And then, almost teasingly, he stepped back just enough for you to see his gaze drop to your lap—your thighs still trembling, your breathing still ragged.

“Now,” he said softly, eyes dragging back up to yours, “you’re going to help me.”

He glanced down at the ache visibly straining against the front of his pants.

“Fix the mess you started,” Bucky murmured again, voice low and rough.

You swallowed hard, eyes darting between his face and the bulge still straining beneath those expensive navy slacks. Your breath caught, your lips parted—but you didn’t move.

So Bucky did.

He reached out, warm hand cupping the back of your head, thumb brushing against your jaw—tender, but firm. Guiding. His vibranium fingers brushed your shoulder, trailing a cold path down your arm as he coaxed you out of the chair and down to your knees, right between his legs.

You looked up at him. The tie still loose at his collar. His jaw locked, blue eyes burning down at you like you were something sacred. Something he’d wanted for far too long.

“Atta girl,” he muttered, unfastening his belt slowly. “Show me what you’ve been dreaming about.”

You took him in hand, heard his sharp inhale. He was heavy, hot, twitching in your grip—already leaking from how long he’d been holding back. You kissed the head gently, teasing your tongue over the slit, and felt him shudder above you.

“Fuck, sweetheart…”

But something changed.

As soon as you tasted him—salty and masculine, laced with the lingering warmth of that cologne—you snapped. Your restraint, your therapy, your rules—shattered. Your hyper-sensitive body surged with heat and hunger. You gripped him tighter, sucked him deeper, harder, hungry for it—starved for the man who haunted every dark corner of your fantasies.

Bucky hissed. His hand flew to your bun—not to guide you, but to steady himself.

You were taking control.

And he was losing it.

“Shit—slow down, baby—” he grunted, legs bracing, muscles twitching. “Fuck—gonna—”

He didn’t finish the warning.

With a stifled groan and a muttered curse, he came fast and hard, head tipped back, hand fisting in your hair as his body jolted. You swallowed, breathless, the taste of him still on your tongue as he staggered slightly—off balance, caught completely off-guard by just how fast you’d undone him.

He looked down at you with wide eyes, chest rising and falling. Then he gave a breathless laugh—soft, almost reverent.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “You’re trying to kill me?”

You licked your lips and looked up through your lashes. “You told me to fix it.”

Bucky’s pupils dilated.

He was far from done.

“Get up,” he rasped, voice hoarse with need. “Lay down. Table.”

You rose—hands trembling, heart pounding—and climbed onto the edge of his desk, pushing aside the neat stack of folders and your own open planner. You laid back, thighs parting as his hands found your waist. He looked like a man possessed, hungry and undone, all that political polish burned away.

He pushed up your blouse, exposing your bra, then unclasped it with practiced ease—lucky for him (and unlucky for you) that you’d chosen the kind that fastened in the front. Your breasts spilled free into his waiting hands, and his breath hitched like he hadn’t just imagined this a hundred times over.

He didn’t hesitate.

He leaned down, biting softly at the swell of your chest, leaving wet kisses and deep bruising marks as his vibranium fingers slid down—cool and deliberate—between your legs. You gasped at the contrast of metal and heat, moaning as they slid through your slick folds with expert precision.

You writhed. He growled.

Then, when you were panting and shaking again, he pulled back—stroking himself once, slowly—then slid his length between your breasts, pressing them together with his hands as you lifted your chin to tease your tongue against the head of his cock.

“Hold still for me,” he groaned. “Just like that.”

The heat in the room swelled—his cologne thick in the air, your arousal coating his fingers, his taste still lingering on your lips. He rocked into your chest slowly, hips rolling, your mouth chasing every pass like it was your last breath.

And for Bucky?

It might as well have been.

“Just like that,” Bucky groaned again, thrusting slowly between your breasts, your tongue flicking over his tip with every pass. His hands pressed them tighter, his jaw clenched like he was fighting himself—like he was trying to savor this, even as every nerve in his body screamed for release.

You watched him from below—eyes blown wide, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from sucking him dry just moments ago. There was pride in your gaze now. Power. Your legs shifted, thighs rubbing together with desperate friction as you moaned softly, loving how undone he looked. This man—former assassin, super soldier, now walking the floors of Congress like he didn’t have blood on his hands—was losing himself for you.

And he didn’t even try to hide it.

He pulled back, eyes raking over your body like he wanted to mark every inch of it. “Turn over,” he said hoarsely. “Hands flat on the desk. Skirt up. Now.”

Your breath caught.

You obeyed.

The desk was cool under your palms as you turned, bent forward, and arched your back—cheeks exposed, thighs glistening. You heard the rustle of his slacks, the low hitch of his breath as he took you in. Then—metal and flesh—his hands gripped your hips, pulling you back against him.

“Fuck, doll,” he groaned, dragging his cock through your folds slowly, teasing. “You’re soaking. All this just from my scent, huh?”

You whimpered.

He leaned over you, the scent of his cologne wrapped in heat and sweat now, curling around your senses like a drug. His mouth found your neck—kissing, biting, panting against your skin.

“Do you know how many times I wanted to take you like this?” he whispered, teeth grazing your ear. “Every time you walked into my office, pretending you didn’t notice how hard I was. You think I didn’t know?”

Then—without warning—he slammed into you.

You gasped. Loud. Fingers splayed on the desk for support as he filled you in one hard, deliberate thrust.

Bucky groaned behind you, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding up your back—vibranium palm splayed flat between your shoulder blades to keep you down. Pinned. Controlled. Possessed.

“You like this,” he growled, voice thick with filth and hunger. “You like knowing I can’t fucking hold back with you.”

He rolled his hips again, deep and slow, and your whole body shuddered from the inside out.

And then he lost the last of his restraint.

The thrusts turned punishing—each one knocking the breath from your lungs as his fingers dug into your skin, anchoring you in place. He was relentless. The desk creaked beneath you. Your moans echoed off the walls. His name fell from your lips like prayer.

“Say it again,” he gritted. “Say my fucking name.”

“Bucky—oh God—Bucky—”

“That’s it, baby. That’s mine.”

You felt him everywhere—his cologne clinging to your skin, his heat against your back, the cold snap of vibranium fingers sliding back between your thighs to stroke you just right as he kept slamming into you.

And just as you were about to fall apart, just as your vision blurred and your moans turned breathless and broken—

He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulled you back against his chest, and growled into your ear:

“You’re coming with me.”

You didn’t stand a chance.

Not when he had your back arched, your hips bucking, your moans punched out of you with every ruthless thrust.

And definitely not when his mouth returned to your neck—nipping, dragging, claiming.

“Gotta warn you, sweetheart,” he panted, voice gone gravel-deep, sweat slicking his chest against your spine. “Cleanup’s gonna be hell.”

You gasped, eyes fluttering as he slid his vibranium fingers back between your legs, stroking where he knew you needed it—circling, pressing, dragging you up toward the edge again. Your thighs trembled. His cock dragged deep inside you, heavy and thick, already swelling again despite how hard he’d come earlier.

He was insatiable.

“You’re dripping down my thighs,” he groaned, cock twitching inside you. “Gonna soak this desk. The carpet.”

“I—I can’t,” you whimpered, dizzy from overstimulation, from the scent of him still curling through the room like a trap.

“Yes, you can,” he hissed, fucking into you harder. “C’mon, doll. One more. I need it.”

He wanted to feel it. Hear it. Your body breaking apart for him like it was made to.

And when your orgasm tore through you again—loud, shaking, guttural—he cursed and pulled out just in time to see the way your release shuddered down your thighs, messy and obscene and perfect.

“Fucking hell,” he growled, grabbing his cock and stroking it hard, fast, as he stared at the wreckage of you—your thighs spread, your mouth open, your body twitching from the aftershocks.

He didn’t last long.

One sharp exhale—your name on his lips—and he came again, painting your lower back and ass with hot, thick ropes of it. The kind of mess that would take more than tissues to fix.

Bucky stumbled back a step, chest heaving, hands braced on his thighs as he tried to catch his breath. A beat passed.

Then he chuckled, dark and low.

“I told you we’d need time for cleanup.”

You groaned, still face-down on the desk. “That’s… not my department, Congressman.”

Another breathless laugh. “Lucky for us, I’ve got some experience erasing evidence.”

He moved toward the far wall of his office, tapped a hidden panel under a shelf, and revealed a small screen linked to the CCTV system. A few taps, and he was deep into the security matrix—something no one but Bucky Barnes had access to.

His fingers hovered over the delete command… then paused.

A wicked smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Or…” he murmured, glancing back at you, still sprawled across his desk, flushed and glistening. “I keep this one. File it under inappropriate.”

Your breath caught.

Then his voice softened—still low, still dark—but careful now. “Only if you’re okay with that.”

You looked at him, cheeks burning, chest still rising and falling in uneven gasps. And then you smiled—slow and shameless.

“Only if I get a copy too.”

He chuckled, full and rich, before locking the footage away behind a new encrypted file. His name. Today’s date.

And a folder labeled simply: INAPPROPRIATE

He turned back to you, still drinking in the sight—hickeys blooming across your chest like war paint, lips kiss-bitten and eyes half-lidded in the aftermath.

If anyone asked why the door had been locked for so long…

“I’ll tell ’em I needed a moment,” he muttered, tucking his shirt back in with a wry twist of his mouth. “Missing my mother. Or some bullshit like that.”

You snorted through the heat still burning on your skin. “You’re a menace.”

He stepped back toward you, buttoning his shirt halfway, not even bothering to fix the tie. “You have no idea.”

Then he leaned down, kissed the curve of your shoulder—warm, slow, almost reverent—and whispered:

“We’re not done, by the way.”

You blinked up at him, still trembling. “We’re not?”

“Nope.” He slid two vibranium fingers through your slick folds again, slow and deliberate, and smirked at your sharp gasp.

“I haven’t even had lunch.”

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

sonic the hedgehog tumblr dashboard simulator

0 notes

💠 extremegayr Follow

got held up in traffic today cause some noob couldnt drive the fucking loop-de-loop. lmfao fucking coward

15 notes

🎛 420zone Follow

ok but robotnik's kind of a dilf tho

🌫 wispgender Follow

he's literally a war criminal can we NOT do this tumblr

🎛 420zone Follow

📰 its-no-use Follow

@wispgender dont u literally simp for nominatus like who is one to talk

🌫 wispgender Follow

NOMINATUS ISN'T REAL????

🛜 viralsensation-destructorofworlds Follow

that you know of

🌫 wispgender Follow

what

10,672 notes

🔷 sonicinthewild

43,834 notes

☣️ lineinthesand Follow

saw sonic the hedgehog irl once. he showed up at my village, released 30 feral pickys in the town hall, paid the ice cream vendor roughly a thousand rings for a single chili dog, told me not to waste my life worrying about the little things, and then caused a fucking tornado

🧿 spiralhillspindash Follow

ok and??? you're not special

☣️ lineinthesand Follow

THIS WAS A PERSONAL POST GO AWAAAAY

173 notes

🌠 chaoinspace2electricboogaloo

sucks that sticks the badger hates all technology you know she would do NUMBERS on here

568 notes

☸️ r0u3e Follow

being an islander be like "are those the kind of eggsplosions i should worry about or the kind of eggsplosions that are gonna repair our crops, fix the economy, and bring my dead grandma back to life"

🌁 eggpawnkindathicctho Follow

being a continenter be like "oh great what primordial diety has risen from the grave to block traffic and fight a 15yo today"

🥭 chao-official

being a chao be like "chao chao chao chao chao"

🌁 eggpawnkindathicctho Follow

you said it my mans

579,056 notes

🏵 sprinkles-the-chao Follow

hold on if sonic the hedgehog is jewish then how is he santa claus

🤖 e123-omegaverse Follow

dont question him

85,628 notes

☣️ sparkygoboom Follow

hey guys real question are human/mobian relationships problematic

💠 extremegayr Follow

op is about to start the anthro church schism of the fifteenth year all over again

🛞 mobotropolis Follow

ok but in all seriousness did your mom never teach you that part of history

🎢 marxiobros Follow

someone doesn't know about the united federations public school system

🛞 mobotropolis Follow

what the fuck is a public school

⏭️ drowningmusic Follow

⚄ paradoxprism Follow

are we gonna talk about op's chaos radiation fetish

💠 extremegayr Follow

OP'S WHAT NOW

🏞 mobiancrossing Follow

ok but am i the only one who thinks that the public school system would be a good idea if handled right? like i know it's traditional to learn from your parents and then experience the world on our own from the ages of 7-13 but like combining all our knowledge and learning together doesnt seem like a bad idea

☠️ fabian-vane-number-1-hater Follow

bitch that's what the internet is for

🌅 s0leanna-apple-barrell

yeah where else am i gonna learn to make infinite chaos emeralds

❇️ freesurge Follow

"infinite chaos emeralds" that's called the phantom ruby

🏳️‍🌈 rainbowwispforgayrights Follow

everybody on this site has brain damage

❇️ freesurge Follow

yeah. from the radiation

603,573 notes

🐸 froggysfriend

caught this today

🏝 digginginthegroundfortubers

if anything happens to this blog i genuinely hope eggman blows us all up as punishment

950,420 notes

🐊 teamchaotixofficial

Hey guys! Sorry to do this again but rent's a little tight this month :( If we've ever solved a case for you guys or made you guys smile, please consider sending a ko-fi our way! we just need a few rings to get through the month <3

6 notes

🖼 give-the-koco-a-gun Follow

do we ever talk about that time the sky turned blood-red and shadow the hedgehog's demon dad descended from on high to murder us all and we only barely survived

❤️‍🔥 songoose4evr Follow

shadow fixed it it's fine

🎮 n0cturnity

yeah that was like twelve apocalypses ago move on

🎆 robotniksbignaturals Follow

kinda wanted to bang black doom tbh

🖼 give-the-koco-a-gun Follow

THE DEVIL???? FROM THE BIBLE????

🎆 robotniksbignaturals Follow

yeah. move over gayboy i'm boutta be shadow's new dad

856,301 notes

🗑️ berrybarry

starting a conspiracy that time hasnt moved since 2006

🗑️ berrybarry

why the fuck was i shadowbanned after posting this

8 notes

🤡 clownfinite Follow

tfw you finally save up enough rings for ice cream and you go outside and get hit by swatbot pieces and the rings just go fuckin everywhere

587 notes

🔷 sonicinthewild

34,452 notes

🌌 h-o-l-o-l-y-n-x

so did y'all see that genesis wave or was it just me

0 notes

🆙 planetsgiantcrack Follow

the virgin tweeter "if you use a bad word in the same tweet as the word 'cream' you get obliterated off the site" vs this chad site of "i want to put knuckles back in a microwave"

💟 presidentyaoi Follow

BACK????

69,849 notes

⬜️ chao-and-wisps-4-ever-so-cute-2 Follow

ok posting my first fanart to this site pls be nice! <3

2 notes

🌔 emeraldfwuitgummy Follow

why does tails look like he's always about to say "it fucken WIMDY"

🦊 miles-prower-official

Hello, @emeraldfwuitgummy!

I actually quote that image on a constant basis! Sonic thinks it's hilarious every time. He's quite the fan of memes, and it's nice to get a laugh out of him!

Formally,

Dr. Miles "Tails" Prower, PHD

🌔 emeraldfwuitgummy Follow

SO WAS ANYONE GOING TO TELL ME THAT TAILS WAS ON THIS FUCKING SITE OR--

🏅 iwishhumanswerereal Follow

do. do you not know he created tailblr. dude it's in the name lmao

🌔 emeraldfwuitgummy Follow

he

WHAT

🍭 milfwisp Follow

didn't eggman invent this site???

🪫 veganswatbot

THE EGG ABANDONED SCRAMBLR IN ITS TIME OF NEED AND THE FOX RAISED US FROM THE ASHES. YOU WILL NOT DISRESPECT HIM

🦊 miles-prower-official

Hello, @milfwisp and @veganswatbot!

Very good question! This site was Eggman's until I ate his bones. Thank you for engaging! :D

Formally,

Dr. Miles "Tails" Prower, PHD

🌔 emeraldfwuitgummy Follow

YOU

WHAT

🌭 sonicsays

what's not clicking

[rafayelxsylusho]

How do the lads men act when jealous Part 2

Part 1 here (Zayne/Xavier)

Finally finished this.

Enjoy pookies!

Sylus/ Rafayel/Caleb

Headers: @bc.lay on Tik Tok

You find yourself in the midst of a lively discussion with a handsome stranger at the auction Sylus had insisted on attending together. The conversation flows effortlessly between you and a charming man named Elias. He's a renowned artist, his eyes sparkling with intellect as he regales you with tales of his latest exhibition.

As the minutes tick by, you become increasingly aware of Sylus's absence. He had been by your side when you first arrived, a possessive hand resting on the small of your back as he steered you through the crowded room. But now, as you laugh at one of Elias's jokes, you realize you haven't seen him in quite some time.

You glance around the room, scanning the faces of the guests, but there's no sign of Sylus.

Elias leans in closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. "You know, I have a feeling you and I have much more in common than just a love of art. You think that maybe... I can get your number?

"Do you value your ability to breathe without a tube down your throat?"

Your heart leaps in your throat at the sound of that voice. You recognize it instantly.

Elias's eyes widen and he takes a small step back from you, hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

"Easy there, Sylus," Elias says, his charming smile fading into a strained grin. "No need for threats. I was just being friendly."

Sylus steps into view, his dark silhouette looming behind you. His broad shoulders straining against the fabric of his tailored suit jacket. His eyes are fixed on Elias, a dangerous glint in their depths.

"Friendly?" Sylus repeats, a note of amusement in his voice. "Is that what you call it?" His gaze flickers to you for a moment, his expression softening almost imperceptibly before hardening once more as he turns back to Elias. "I've seen how friendly you can get"

Sylus takes another step forward, closing the distance between them. Elias swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He glances at you, then back at Sylus, and you can see the calculation in his eyes as he weighs his options.

"Look, I didn't mean any disrespect..."

"You're not worthy of so much as a single digit of her phone number. I suggest you forget you ever met her, and move along before I lose my patience entirely."

Elías clears his throat awkwardly and takes a step back "Well, it was... nice chatting with you," he says lamely, before turning and melting into the crowd, leaving you alone with Sylus.

"Was that really necessary? I was just about to say no Sy"

His thumb brushes across your lower lip, the gesture almost tender if not for the harsh set of his mouth. "Let's get out of here. I have far better plans for us tonight."

With that, he takes your hand, his grip unyielding as he begins to steer you towards the exit. His anger is palpable, but there's something else you can't quite name.

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

As you walk to your room Sylus can't help but notice the shift in your mood. The lively sparkle in your eyes from earlier has been replaced by a troubled look. He watches as you walk ahead of him, your shoulders slightly slumped, your steps hesitant.

Closing the door behind you Sylus sets his jacket down on a nearby chair before turning to face you. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, his brow furrowed as he studies your face with an intensity that makes you squirm slightly.

"Talk to me," he says finally, his voice cutting through the heavy silence of the room. "What's bothering you?"

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself before you speak. "Sylus, I need you to listen to me for a moment. There was no need for you to behave like that back at the auction. You embarrassed Elias in front of everyone."

You shake your head, a flicker of disappointment in your eyes. "An arrogant display like that, threatening him just for talking to me? It was completely uncalled for."

Putting your hands on your hips, you level your gaze at Sylus, your voice firm but calm. "I understand that you want to protect me. But you can't go around intimidating people who cross an imaginary line in your head."

He takes a step closer, invading your personal space. He towers over you, his broad shoulders blocking out the light. His voice is low and tight with barely contained anger when he speaks.

"I've known Elias for years, sweetie. He's a womanizer, plain and simple. I've seen that predatory look in his eyes before, the one he gets when he sets his sights on a new conquest. And tonight, he had it directed at you."

His eyes burn into yours, the red irises seeming to glow with the force of his possessiveness "He knew you were with me. I made sure of that when I introduced you earlier. But he didn't care, did he? No, he just saw a beautiful woman and decided he wanted to add you to his list of fucks."

You plant your palms firmly against his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. You push back against him, your voice steady and unwavering as you meet his intense gaze head on.

"I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I am more than capable of taking care of myself. I've been doing it for years before I even met you."

Your eyes flash with a spark of determination and a hint of annoyance. "I'm a Deepspace Hunter, Sylus. I've faced down Wanderers, I've battled for my life and the lives of others. I think I can handle a little flirtation from a guy like that"

A sly smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you tilt your head. "Or, and hear me out on this...maybe you were just jealous. Green as the hills, if you will."

You lean in closer, your lips nearly brushing against his as you whisper teasingly, "Is that what this is really about? You couldn't stand the thought of Elias looking at me like that because you want to be the only one with the right to crave me like that?"

Your fingertips walk playfully up his chest, tracing the line of his collarbone. "You know, it's okay to admit it. Jealousy doesn't make you weak, it makes you...human. It means you care, deeply and intensely and maybe just a little bit possessively."

You nip lightly at his bottom lip, your voice a low purr. "So go on, Sylus...admit it. Because I think that's exactly what happened back there. And you know what? It's okay. I can handle a little jealousy, as long as it comes from the right man."

"Lie down" he orders

You don't move, still processing his words, but you see his hands undo his pants then push them down his hips.

"Kitten, lay down on that fucking bed right now."

As you settle against the silk sheets, he finishes removing the last of his clothing, his shirt and underwear dropping to the floor. His erection springs free, long, hard and already leaking at the tip.

Your whispered "Oh god" reaches his ears. Sylus grins, stalking towards the bed until he looms over you. He leans down, one hand braced on either side of your head as he settles between your thighs.

"You sure you want to feed my ego like that? You already think I'm an arrogant asshole and the way you are staring at my cock is about to make me insufferable"

He rolls his hips slowly, his hard length brushing against your thigh through the thin fabric of your dress. The friction makes him groan softly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

You sit up and his eyes darken as he watches you strip, his gaze roaming greedily over every inch of skin you reveal. When you reach for the lace tops of your stockings, he stops you "Keep those on."I want to see you in nothing but those. Want to feel the lace against your soft skin as I fuck you."

His large hands grip your hips tightly, flipping you over onto your hands and knees with a sudden, dominant move. Before you can react, he's running his palms over the curves of your ass, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh.

"Fuck, your ass is perfect," he growls, his fingers digging into your skin as he spreads your cheeks apart

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks "I want to see you arch your back for me. Want to watch this ass lift up and beg for my cock as I take you from behind."

One hand slides around to the front of your body, his fingers pushing your panties aside to stroke through your folds and then without warning, he grips the fabric and yanks hard, the material tearing away easily in his strong grasp. The cool air hits your now bare sex as you feel the rough lace scrape against your skin for a brief moment before it's ripped away completely.

"Sylus!" you cry out in surprise and a hint of pain. Your hips jerk forward instinctively and red marks bloom on your hipbones.

"Ass up, kitten," he commands, before you can react, he's pushing your upper body down against the mattress, leaving your back arched and your ass high in the air.

You feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and then with one hard thrust, he's burying himself inside you to the hilt. Your gasp of surprise mixes with his low groan of pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," Sylus grunts, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he starts to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in.

"You're so fucking big Sy"

"But you take it all like a good girl, don't you?"

You feel him set a hard, fast pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. He leans over your back, his chest pressed against you as he fucks into you relentlessly.

"Fuck, can you feel me deep inside your hot little cunt? Gonna fill you up until I run down those pretty stockings."

He feels your walls clench tight around his cock when he rubs your swollen clit. "Fuck, that's it. You're getting close, aren't you?"

He leans down to whisper in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Come on my cock, kitten."

But that's not your plan.

He growls in frustration as you slip his cock out of your dripping pussy, tight walls clenching around nothing. He grabs you roughly by the waist, dragging your pleasure drunk body back against his chest. "No, no, get that sweet cunt back on my dick," he demands.

But you ignore his command, instead dragging your hand down to plunge your fingers deep inside your aching, empty core. You pump them in and out, fucking yourself with wild abandon, chasing the release that Sylus's relentless pounding brought you to the brink of.

"Fuck, Y/N I swear to god..."

Sylus watches in awe and disbelief as your body jerks and writhes against him, your back arching as you bring yourself to a shattering climax. He can feel your moan in his stomach, your pussy clenching and fluttering around your fingers as you cum hard.

" Are you kidding me?"

You laugh, pat his cheek, peck his lips and move away when he tries to kiss you deeply.

"Thank you, that was so good Sy"

He watches as you stand and stretch languidly. He licks his lips, practically drooling at the delicious image you make.

"Oh, so we're playing now, are we kitten?" He chuckles, he grips his thick shaft and pumps it slowly, teasingly. "You wanna watch me touch myself?

He spreads his legs wider, giving you an unobstructed view of his muscled body and the way his hand works over his huge, throbbing erection. "I could watch you watch me all day, sweetie."

Sylus's tongue darts out to lick his lips, his gaze never leaving yours as he pleasures himself. "You want to help, don't you kitten? Wanna wrap your lips around the head and suck me deep?"

He climbs off the bed and tosses a pillow at your feet as he stalks towards you. "For your knees, it's a hard floor"

The musky scent of his arousal fills your nostrils as you kneel before him on the pillow, your eyes level with his throbbing erection. He positions his painfully engorged cock in front of your face, the swollen head glistening with a bead of precum.

Fisting his cock he aims it at your lips and asks "May I?"

You hear him groan deeply when you nod and open your mouth, your pink tongue out and ready.

He pushes forward, the swollen head of his dick slipping past your lips and settling on your outstretched tongue. "Ungh, yes..." He throws his head back with a guttural moan as he hilts inside you, your nose pressing against his pelvis. 

"I could live inside your mouth, buried deep in your throat. Be a good girl and make me cum"

He hisses in pleasure as you gurgle and moan around him. Tears stream down your face as he fucks your throat raw, his thick cock pounding in and out, stretching your lips around his girth. You taste the salty tang of his skin, feel the hot, hard flesh throbbing against your tongue.

"I'm cumming!" Sylus grunts, his voice tight with strain as his hips stutter and still. He tries to pull back, but your hands grasp his ass, holding him deep inside as you feel his cock pulse and jerk.

The sensation of your teeth accidentally scraping his sensitive flesh sends Sylus over the edge. His hot, thick cum shooting down your throat in spurts. You swallow, gulping down every drop of his release, feeling it coat your throat and slide into your belly.

As the last weak spurts of cum dribble from his spent cock, you pull back, gasping for air. Sylus's thumb traces up the column of your throat, feeling the way it works as you swallow the remnants of his load.

"Greedy, feisty kitten," he praises with smirk, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath.

His strong arms scoop under your elbows, easily lifting you up from your kneeling position. He holds you close, your naked body pressing against his. "Now, how about you let me cum inside you this time, kitten?"

"I think that one is the best tonight" a deep, smooth voice startled you from behind. 

You were admiring Rafayel's breathtaking artwork adorning the gallery walls, you've seen them, but somehow they looked different here.

Slightly caught off guard, you turned to face the man, taking in his handsome features and the way his eyes, as blue as the ocean on a clear day, seemed to sparkle with enthusiasm as he spoke about Rafayel's paintings.

The man introduced himself as Liam, an art critic with an impressive resume and an even more impressive knowledge of the art world.

As the conversation flowed, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for Rafayel. His gift was truly remarkable, and it was clear that others recognized and appreciated his talent as much as you did. Liam talked to you about Rafayel's rise to fame, his groundbreaking exhibitions, and his ability to command astronomical prices for his one of a kind pieces.

As you spoke, you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you.

" I see you've met my wife"

You see Liam's eyes go wide as he flashes a smile "Oh wow, I... I didn't know you two were married"

You look over your shoulder to Rafayel with a scowl before returning to Liam "We are not, he is kidding, we are just friends"

"Like hell we are, that's not what you were saying last night when my tongue was in your..."

Rafayel's smirk only grew wider as your hand clamped over his mouth, muffling his words. He let you drag him away, stumbling slightly as you pulled him down a long, dimly lit hallway of the art gallery.

"You're such a tease, you know that?" he mutters against your hand, his hot breath tickling your skin.

His hand finds yours, fingers interlocking as he allows you to lead him deeper into the gallery, away from prying eyes and ears.

As you walk, his gaze rakes over you, hungry and intense. You can feel the heat of his stare, the way it lingers on the curve of your hip, the sway of your ass. It's a tangible thing, a physical caress that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

You walk into a small office and close the door behind you, the air is thick with the scent of oil paints, turpentine, and something else, something musky and masculine. Rafayel's scent, you realize, your heart pounding in your chest as he backs you up against a wall, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head.

"Friends, huh?" he murmurs "Is that really what you want people to think?"

"Thomas is gonna be looking for you"

"Fuck Thomas. Fuck the gallery. Fuck everything else."

His hands slide down the wall to your hips, gripping them possessively as he pulls your body flush against his.

One hand moves from your hip to your thigh, his fingers dance along the sensitive skin. He teases, he taunts, drawing out the anticipation until you're squirming against him, desperate for more.

Then, without warning, his hand is under your dress, his fingers seeking out your most intimate place. They find your core, slick, swollen and aching for his touch.

"Do you drip down your thighs for all your friends?" He pinches your clit, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers. Pleasure explodes through you, making your back arch and your toes curl in your shoes. Your eyes flutter shut, your head falling back against the wall as a broken moan escapes your lips.

"I don't think you do," Rafayel murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. "Because this mess, it's all for me cutie.

He pushes two fingers deep inside you, pumping them in and out, fucking you with his hand. "Does it feel like I'm your friend," he rasps, "when I bury my face between these thighs and eat this sweet pussy like it's my fucking job?" His fingers pump faster, harder, the sound of your arousal filling the small office.

"Or maybe," he continues, his other hand sliding up your body to roughly palm your breast, tweaking your nipple through the thin fabric of your dress, "when you're bouncing on my cock, taking every thick inch like you were made for it, screaming my name as you cum harder than you ever have in your life..."

He leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. "Is that friendship bonding?"

"Fuck" he growls, his hips rocking forward to grind the rigid length of his cock against your thigh. "You squeeze my fingers just like you squeeze my cock when I'm buried deep inside you"

He moves his fingers faster, harder, his thumb presses down hard on your clit, rubbing merciless circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"You're so fucking wet, cutie," Rafayel pants "I can feel it coating my hand, dripping down my wrist. Is that for me, y/n?

He leans down, lips latching onto the side of your neck, sucking and biting at the tender flesh.

He wastes no time, his desperation palpable as he yanks you towards the desk. The room spins briefly as he spins you around and bends you over the edge, your stomach pressing against the cool, smooth surface. Your skirt is flipped up and over in one swift motion.

He yanks down his zipper, freeing his fat cock. It springs out, slapping against your inner thigh, leaving a smear of precum on your skin.

His hands grip your hips as he positions himself. His chest presses against your back, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as he leans down to murmur in your ear.

"Can I fuck you?" he asks "Can I fuck you properly, cutie?

Your hands reach for the edge of the desk, gripping it tightly as you nod. Your body trembling with need, your core clenching and fluttering around nothing, aching to be filled by him.

"Please," you breathe out, arching your back to push your ass firmly against his hips.

Rafayel pulls your panties to the side and hilts himself inside you with one thrust, burying his thick cock to the base of your needy cunt. He stands still for a moment, his hips flush against your ass, allowing you to feel every throbbing inch of him pulsing deep within your core.

As he remains motionless, your hips start to move on their own accord, rocking back against him, desperate for friction, for stimulation, for more. The desk creaks beneath you with the force of your movements, the sound mingling with the ragged pants and moans spilling from your lips.

"Please Raf..." you whimper. Your walls clench around his shaft, trying to keep him deep inside you.

Rafayel chuckles "Please what, cutie?" he teases, his hips still unmoving, his cock throbbing but unmoving inside you. "What are you begging for? You're the one fucking me."

His hips start to move, pulling out until just the tip remains inside you, before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

"When I'm pounding this tight cunt, claiming this pussy as mine, it's not friendly fucking," he growls, punctuating his words with sharp snaps of his hips. "This is me showing you who you belong to. This is me reminding you that..."

He reaches around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub. "It's all fucking mine. You're mine Y/N. This is me taking what's already mine."

The office door handle jiggles and Rafayel's eyes flash with a thrill of danger. He grins at the interruption, not slowing his relentless pace for a second.

"Maybe it's that hot shot critic, maybe he heard you. That would make things clear for him"

Your body jerks forward from the force of his thrusts, a desperate moan tearing from your throat. "So let them hear, let the whole fucking world know"

Rafayel feels your body tense and then shudder violently as his words and the relentless pounding of his cock finally push you over the edge. Your walls clamp down on him, rippling and fluttering as you come undone.

Rafayel looks down, his eyes dark and wild with lust as he watches your clench around his cock.

Then, he sees it. The creamy ring forming at the base of his shaft where your tight cunt is stretched around his thick girth. It's too much, too fucking perfect. With that Rafayel loses control, slamming into you one last time as his cock jerks and pulses inside you.

He grinds his pelvis against your ass, making sure to push every last drop deep inside you.

He slowly pulls out of you, a low groan rumbling in his chest at the sensation of your walls clinging to his softening cock. As he takes a step back, he looks down at your trembling body bent over the desk, your thighs glistening with the combined essence of your mutual pleasure.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans down, trailing a finger through the creamy trails dripping down your skin.

"Such a perfect piece of art," he murmurs, his voice low and awed. "Look at you, cutie. Look at the fucking masterpiece we've created."

He brings his finger to his lips, sampling the tangy flavor of your joining, his eyes never leaving your body. "Maybe I should put you out there, just like this, as my magnum opus, a live exhibit," he continues, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, smearing a dollop of his release there.

His hand cups your chin and tilts your face up to meet his eyes. "Wouldn't that be a sight, cutie?

Your heart clenches as you stare at the paused video on your phone screen, the beautiful woman's smiling face frozen beside Caleb's. An unfamiliar, bitter taste coats your tongue, jealousy, you realize with a start. You swallow hard, trying to dislodge the uncomfortable feeling lodged in your throat.

Caleb's laughter echoes in your mind. That laughter, that beautiful, rare sound, belonged to you. Only you. And seeing it, hearing it, directed at someone else... it feels like a betrayal.

You know you shouldn't feel this way. Caleb is your partner in every sense but one. You've shared everything together since childhood ,laughter, tears, secrets, dreams. But this... this hollow ache in your chest, this burning in your throat... it's new. Terrifying.

Still, as you sit there, gripping your phone like a lifeline, you can't help but wonder... what if Caleb sees her as more than just a friend? What if she sees him the same way you... the way you... can't stop yourself from seeing him?

Your heart sinks as you refresh the page again and again, desperation clawing at your throat. Gone. Vanished like a ghost. The video, your proof, your reason to feel this way... erased without a trace.

A hollow emptiness settles in the pit of your stomach as you toss your phone aside, no longer caring when it clatters onto the cold hardwood floor. It's fitting, really. Just like everything else that matters to you, it's slipping away.

Your mind replays the fleeting images from the video on an endless loop. Caleb's smile, her smile, their laughter. The way she leaned in close to whisper in his ear. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. The way your heart shattered into a million jagged pieces.

A single tear slips down your cheek, followed by another. And another. Until they're falling in earnest, silent cries of a soul in agony. A soul that yearns for a love it can never have. A love that's slipping away, like grains of sand through an hourglass.

🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎

You wake to the familiar buzz of your phone on the nightstand, your heart leaping with a foolish hope before you remember. Last night, Gideon's video, the hollow ache in your chest... it all comes rushing back like a bitter tide. He didn't text you last night. Not a single word, not even the usual goodnight message that you've come to expect and secretly crave.

You roll over and grab your phone, staring at the screen as it blinks with an incoming message.

A new message from Caleb. Just like every other morning. Just like clockwork.

Good morning, pipsqueak. Did you eat breakfast already?

You stare at the message and you answer, you always do.

Just waking up now. You know I'm not a morning person.

You hit send before you can overthink it, before the bitter taste of jealousy can creep back into your mouth.

You busy yourself with the mundane tasks of getting ready, trying to push away the lingering ache in your chest. You choose an outfit on autopilot, not really caring what you wear. A simple t-shirt and jeans will have to do.

You get another message and you glance at your phone, expecting to see Caleb's name flashing on the screen. But instead, you find a message from Tara. You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the notification. Going out isn't really your thing, not with everything that's been weighing on your mind lately.

Hey girl! Wanna hit up that new club downtown tonight? I heard it's lit af. ;) What do you say, bestie?

You stare at the message, reading it over and over again. Normally, you'd decline. Make up some excuse about being tired or having too much work to do. But tonight... tonight you need a distraction. Anything to get your mind off things.

Before you can overthink it, you type out a reply, your fingers moving on their own accord.

Sure, why not. Count me in. ;) Pick me up at 7?

🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎

You step back from the full length mirror, your eyes traveling the length of the dress Tara lent you. It's a shimmering midnight blue number, the fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places. But it's the length, or lack of that has you second guessing this entire idea.

The hemline sits dangerously high on your thighs, barely grazing the tops of your legs. It's a far cry from your usual casual attire of jeans and t-shirts. You're not used to showing so much skin, to feeling so exposed.

As if sensing your hesitation, Tara appears behind you in the reflection, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. She places her hands on your shoulders, squeezing gently.

"You look smoking hot! Why the long face?" she asks, her brow furrowing in concern.

You bite your lower lip, worrying it between your teeth. "I don't know, Tara. I just...I'm not used to wearing something so...revealing.

Just tonight y/n," Tara reassures you "You deserve to let loose a little after all the hard work you've been putting in. A night out with the girls will do you good."

You know she's right. It has been a while since you last went out and had some real fun. Work has consumed most of your waking hours, and the rest has been spent...thinking about him. Him and her. Him and his laugh that wasn't meant for you.

Lost in thought, you hardly register the short walk to Tara's car. Before you know it, you're sliding into the passenger seat, the leather cool against your bare thighs.

As Tara pulls out onto the main road, you suddenly remember something. Or rather, forget something. You reach for your phone instinctively before remembering that you left it on Tara's dresser.

"Crap, I forgot my phone," you groan.

Tara glances at you, one eyebrow arched. "Do you want to go back and get it?" she asks, already slowing down to pull over to the side of the road.

You hesitate for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. In the end, you shake your head. "No, it's okay. I think I'm good without it for one night"

You settle back into the leather seat, watching the city lights blur past the window as Tara speeds towards the new club downtown.

As the night goes on, you find yourself getting lost in the music, the pulsing beats vibrating through your body as you dance with your friends. The alcohol buzzes warmly in your veins and for a few hours, you allow yourself to forget. To forget the jealousy and heartache that's been consuming you.

You're sandwiched between Tara and another friend, the three of you bouncing and swaying in sync to the pounding beat. Suddenly, a cute guy with a charming smile appears in front of you.

"Hey there," he shouts over the music, leaning in close so you can hear him. "I'm Jason. Wanna dance?"

He extends a hand, his smile widening. Normally, you might have been hesitant, or even said no. But tonight, with the alcohol coursing through your veins and the music pumping you up, you find yourself nodding.

"Sure," you reply, taking his hand and letting him pull you closer.

As the two of you begin to dance, you feel a flicker of excitement. It's nice, being desired. Being wanted. Even if it's not by...him. You push the thought away, refusing to let it ruin this moment.

Jason is a good dancer, his movements confident. He spins you around, pulling you back in close, his hands resting on your hips. You find yourself laughing, the music and the moment overwhelming you in the best way possible.

For a brief instant, you allow yourself to imagine that this could be more than just a dance. That this cute guy could be someone you could see yourself with. But then reality sets in, and you remember the truth:

Your heart belongs to someone else. Someone you can never have. No matter how hard you try to forget, how much you drink, or how many cute guys you dance with.

The room spins as you feel Jason kiss you, his lips foreign and unfamiliar against your own. Your eyes flutter closed, trying to lose yourself in the sensation, desperate to forget the man who truly owns your heart. But as you press your mouth harder against his, you realize that this kiss...it's all wrong.

His lips are too thin, not soft and plush like...like Caleb's. The shape is different, the feel of them unfamiliar. And his breath...it doesn't smell like sweet apples.

A pang of disappointment shoots through you as the realization hits this isn't the kiss you've been dreaming of. This isn't the man you've been longing for. This is just a cruel imitation, a poor substitute for the real thing.

You pull back, breaking the kiss abruptly. Jason looks startled for a moment before a confused frown crosses his face. You open your mouth to say something, to apologize or explain, but no words come out.

Instead, you feel a wave of nausea roll over you, the alcohol you've consumed churning uncomfortably in your stomach. You stumble back from Jason, pressing a hand to your mouth as you try to hold back the urge to vomit.

"Excuse me," you mutter, not meeting his eyes as you turn and push your way through the crowd on the dance floor.

You make it to the bathroom just in time, collapsing in front of the toilet and retching violently. Tears stream down your face as you empty the contents of your stomach, the bitter taste of regret and self loathing coating your tongue.

You splash some cold water on your face, staring at your reflection in the mirror, eyes red and puffy, your makeup smeared from crying and the heat of the club. But looking back at you is the face of a girl who's in love with someone she can never have. A girl who's trying desperately to forget, but failing miserably.

You stumble out of the bathroom, still feeling shaky and off balance.The last person you expect to see tonight is standing right there in front of you, his tall frame unmistakable even in the low light.

Caleb.

He's dressed in button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and dark jeans that hug his muscular thighs. His hair is slightly tousled, like he's been running his fingers through it in agitation. And his eyes...his eyes are fixed on you, a stormy violet that betrays his emotions.

Your eyes widen in shock as Caleb strides towards you, his long legs eating up the distance between you in just a few quick steps. Before you can react, he's upon you, his large hands gripping your waist. In one almost effortless motion, he hoists you up and over his shoulder, leaving your head dangling down his back.

"Caleb!" you yelp, instinctively grabbing onto his shirt to steady yourself. "What are you doing? Put me down!"

But he ignores your protests, his grip on your thighs tightening as he turns to stalk out of the club. Tara watches in stunned silence, her mouth hanging open.

"Oh, hey Caleb," she starts to say, but he cuts her off before she can finish.

"Do you have a way to get home safely?" he asks, his voice low and gruff.

"Yes," Tara replies, her eyes flicking to you in confusion and a hint of concern.

Without waiting for her to finish, Caleb starts walking, carrying you through the crowded club. You bounce and jostle with each step, your dress riding up dangerously high on your thighs. You can feel the cool air on your exposed skin, the fabric of his shirt rough against your cheek.

"Caleb, stop!" you cry, pounding your fist against his back. "You can't just take me like this! I can walk on my own."

But he remains silent, his jaw clenched tight as he pushes through the crowd. You catch glimpses of the curious stares and whispers as he passes.

Soon, the loud music fades behind you as Caleb bursts out of the club and into the cool night air. The sudden change in temperature makes you shiver, and you instinctively press closer to the warmth of his body.

He doesn't stop until he reaches a sleek, black car parked at the curb. With a grunt, he yanks open the passenger door and unceremoniously dumps you onto the leather seat. You land with a thud, the breath knocked out of your lungs temporarily.

Before you can scramble away, he's sliding into the driver's seat beside you, slamming the door shut. The sound of it clicking closed makes you jump, and you shrink back against the far window, eyeing him warily.

"What the hell, Caleb?" you demand, your voice shaking slightly from the cold and the shock of being so abruptly kidnapped. "Why did you just do that? I can't believe you!"

He doesn't respond right away, his grip tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. The engine hums loudly in the tense silence between you as he starts driving.

Finally, he slams on the brakes, the car jerking to a halt. He turns to face you, his eyes blazing with an emotion you can't quite place anger, jealousy, pain?

"Did you enjoy it?" he asks, his voice low and rough. "Did you enjoy what you were doing back there with him?"

You glare back at Caleb, your eyes flashing with anger and defiance. "I was enjoying every second of it," you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "In fact, I'm thinking of going back again. Maybe I'll let him kiss me again, maybe I'll let him do even more than that"

You feel a surge of anger rising up inside you, your cheeks flushing hot with both fury and humiliation. How dare he accuse you like this, demand answers to questions he has no right to ask? He had no right to drag you out of there like some kind of caveman!

"Did you enjoy his attention?"

"Did you enjoy hers?" 

"So this is what all of this is about?"

"Did you?"

"I hated every second of it"

You grip the edge of your seat as he speeds off, the car lurching forward and the rest of the way home is silent.

Once you get home you step out of the car, not waiting for him to open your door. You walk ahead of him, your heels clicking loudly against the pavement as you cross the parking lot to your apartment building. The cool night air nips at your bare legs, but you barely feel it. You're too focused on the man following close behind you

You can feel his gaze burning into your back, hot and intense. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

As you approach your front door, you hesitate, your hand hovering over the handle. You know you should say something, should try to diffuse the tension that's building between you. But what can you say?

You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. He's standing close, too close, his broad shoulders taking up almost the entire doorway. He's looking down at you, his eyes dark and stormy, his jaw clenched so tightly you think he might break his teeth.

"Caleb..." you start, but the words die in your throat. 

His hand comes up, his fingers brushing against your cheek. You lean into the touch instinctively, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When you open them again, he's looking at you with a mix of anger, jealousy, and something else... something softer.

"Just... go inside," he says quietly. "Before I do something we'll both regret."

You barely make it inside before the nausea hits you again and you run to the bathroom. Once again falling to your knees in front of the toilet, you retch, your stomach churning as you empty its contents. Tears stream down your face, mingling with the drool and sweat as sobs wrack your body.

Behind you, you hear the click of the bathroom door closing, and then the sound of Caleb's footsteps on the tile floor. He doesn't say a word, but you feel his presence looming over you, as solid and comforting as it always was when you were a kid.

His hands gather your hair, pulling it back from your face and holding it out of the way as you continue to heave and retch. Just like he used to do when you were little and got sick after eating too much ice cream.

The memory makes you cry even harder, great gulping sobs that hurt your chest and burn your throat. You're suddenly transported back to those simpler times, when all you needed was Caleb to make everything better. When he was your rock, your protector, your best friend in the whole wide world.

Why did things have to get so complicated? Why did falling in love with him have to ruin everything? You were happier before, when you could just be with him without all this fear and longing and heartache.

You're dimly aware of Caleb shifting behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you up as the last of the sickness leaves your body. He rubs your back in soothing circles, just like he used to, crooning soft words of comfort into your ear.

"Shh, I've got you," he murmurs, his voice low and deep and so achingly familiar. "I'm here, pipsqueak. I'm not going anywhere."

You let Caleb help you brush your teeth, rinsing the bitter taste of sickness from your mouth. He hands you a glass of water and a couple of pills, no doubt for the headache that's starting to throb behind your eyes.

Without a word, you take them, swallowing them down with a few gulps of the cool water. Caleb watches you silently, his expression unreadable.

When you're finished, he takes your hand and leads you back out to the bedroom. The room spins slightly as you walk, and you have to lean against him for support. He steadies you easily, his arm wrapping around your waist.

At the bed, he pauses, letting you sit down on the edge of the mattress. You watch as he pulls back the covers, the sheets smooth and cool and inviting. He helps you lie down, tucking the blanket around your shoulders like you're a child.

You settle back against the pillows, suddenly exhausted by the events of the night. Caleb stands over you, looking down at your face. In the moonlight filtering through the window, his expression is soft, almost tender.

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair off your forehead. His fingers linger, tracing the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed.

"Sleep now," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be here when you wake up."

You believe him, because you've always believed him. Because he's always kept his promises, no matter what. Even when the world felt like it was falling apart around you, Caleb was your constant, your safe haven, your home.

With a sigh, you let yourself sink into the mattress, the exhaustion pulling you down into a deep sleep. The last thing you hear before everything fades to black is the soft click of the bedroom door as Caleb steps out, giving you privacy and space, just like he always does. Just like he's always done. Even in sleep, you reach for him, your hand searching for the warmth and solidity of his body. But that side its empty, the sheets cool and smooth and untouched.

You wake with a start, your heart pounding in your chest. The sheets beneath you are damp with sweat, tangled around your legs. For a moment, you're disoriented, unsure of where you are or how you got here.

Memories of the night before come rushing back, the club, Caleb's fury, the sickening nausea that left you weak and shaking. You shiver as a chill runs through you, the cold sweat on your skin making you feel clammy and unclean.

Slowly, you sit up, pushing the damp hair out of your face. Your mouth feels dry, your tongue thick and furry. 

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, standing up gingerly as a wave of dizziness washes over you. You grab onto the edge of the bed, waiting for it to pass before taking a tentative step forward.

As you creep towards the door, you suddenly remember Caleb's parting words. He said he'd be here when you woke up. You hadn't been sure what to make of that at the time, too tired and miserable to think it through. But now, a flicker of worry ignites in your chest.

You slip out the bedroom door and into the darkened living room. At first, you don't see him. The room is small and cramped, filled with the detritus of your life. Clothes are strewn over the back of the couch, empty cups and plates litter the coffee table. It's a mess, a reflection of the chaos inside your head.

But then you see him. He's stretched out on the tiny sofa, his long legs dangling off the edge, his broad shoulders hunched to fit the too small space.

You step closer, your heart starting to pound for a different reason now. Caleb looks so peaceful when he's asleep, his face relaxed, his dark lashes fanning out against his cheeks. He's even more beautiful like this, without the anger and pain that usually clouds his eyes.

As you tiptoe back towards the bathroom, you pause for a moment, glancing back at Caleb's sleeping form. He's shifted slightly, one arm falling off the couch to hang down to the floor.

A pang of guilt spears through you as you remember the anger in his eyes last night. The jealousy. The pain. All because of you and your stupid, impulsive actions.

Shaking your head, you quickly look away, hurrying into the bathroom. You turn on the shower, waiting for the water to heat up. As steam starts to fill the small room, you strip off your clothes, letting them drop to the floor. You step into the shower, sighing as the hot water hits your cool skin.

You scrub yourself thoroughly, washing away the grime and sweat of the night before. But no matter how hard you scrub, you can't seem to wash away the shame and guilt that clings to you like a second skin.

With a heavy sigh, you turn off the water, stepping out of the shower. You wrap a towel around your body, tucking it in at the top.

You walk out of the bathroom, still wrapped in your towel, steam curling around your legs.

As you step into the bedroom, you freeze, your heart leaping into your throat.

There, sitting on the edge of your bed, is Caleb. He looks big and imposing in your small bedroom, taking up more space than he should.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words and lingering anger.

Then Caleb breaks the silence, his voice low and rough from sleep. "Hey," he says simply, his gaze never leaving yours.

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very aware of your state of undress. You clutch the towel tighter around your body, as if it could somehow shield you from the intensity of his stare.

Hey," you reply softly, not trusting yourself to speak any louder.

He stands up then, moving towards you with slow, deliberate steps. He stops when he's standing right in front of you. You have to tilt your head back to look up at him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

"You really don't get it, do you?"

His thumb presses against your lower lip, tracing the soft curve. He leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours. You can smell the faint scent of apples, the lingering aroma of his cologne. It's the same scent that always lingers on your skin after he holds you close.

"I saw the way those men looked at you last night," he grits out, a flicker of anger sparking in his eyes. "I saw them staring at what's mine. And it made me want to... to..."

"Yours?"

"Yes, mine" he confirms "You've been mine for years. Long before you even realized it."

He takes a shuddering breath, his chest expanding and when he speaks again, his words are raw and unguarded, laid bare by the weight of his emotions.

"I can't hold back anymore. I can't pretend that I don't want you, that I don't need you like air in my lungs. I've wanted you for so long, and seeing you with him last night... it made me realize that I can't keep pretending anymore."

"I would never touch another woman, not when you're all I can think about. Not when you've consumed my every thought, my every dream, for as long as I can remember. You're the one constant in my life. My everything."

Caleb's eyes widen for a split second in surprise before they flutter shut as your lips meet his in a clash of long denied passion. He makes an approving sound in the back of his throat, his arms wrapping around you to crush you against his muscular body.

It's like a dam bursting open, a flood of pent up emotion and desire pouring out of him as he kisses you with a hunger that steals your breath away. His lips move demandingly over yours, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim and possess.

You feel the same desperate hunger rising up inside you, a starving ache that can only be sated by him. Your fingers clutch at his shirt, fisting the fabric as you press yourself even closer, needing to feel every inch of him against every inch of you.

His hands roam your body with a sense of urgency, mapping out the curves he's always craved to touch. He tugs impatiently at the towel, and it falls away, baring your naked flesh to his eyes. He breaks the kiss just long enough to drink in the sight of you.

He leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak before he suckles hard. Pleasure jolts through you, and you arch into him, your fingers tangling in his hair to hold him close.

His hand slides down your stomach, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He parts your thighs, and you feel the cool air on your overheated skin before his fingers find your center.

He groans against your breast, his fingers sliding through your folds, teasing your clit with a skill that has you seeing stars. "So fucking wet," he murmurs, lifting his head to look at you with eyes that blaze with lust. "All for me, Pip? 

He walks you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed. His hands grip your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh as he lifts you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively.

He lays you down on the bed, his body covering yours, pinning you to the mattress. He kisses you again, his hips nestling between your spread thighs.

Pulling back, he looks down at you with eyes darkened by desire, his chest heaving. "Tell me where you want me, baby"

He strokes the soft skin of your inner thighs, his thumbs brushing maddeningly close to the apex of your legs.

"Here?" he murmurs, his fingers grazing your sex, "or maybe... here? Show me"

"Caleb..."

"Show me, Y/N"

Slowly you spread your legs apart, feet flat on the mattress and you point a finger in between your thighs "Here"

"Dip one finger in"

You obey his command. He inhales sharply when your finger parts your glistening folds. His eyes follow the path of your finger as it trails over your sensitive clit, and a low groan escapes his lips at the sight of your touch.

"Stop" his voice makes you pause, your finger hovering just above your needy sex as you blink up at him.

"Not there," he says, "Dip just the tip of your finger straight into your tight little cunt. Let me see you open yourself up for me."

The tip of your finger disappears inside of you. He licks his lips, his eyes fixated on the way your walls clench around it, as if begging for something more.

"That's enough, I want a taste. Feed it to me"

You withdraw your finger from your dripping pussy and bring your finger to Caleb's parted lips, watching as he takes it into his mouth without hesitation. His tongue swirls around the tip, lapping up your essence, his lips sealing around the digit as he suckles firmly. An approving moan vibrates around your finger, the sound sending shivers of pleasure racing through your body.

"Mmm, fuck," he murmurs, releasing your finger from his mouth. "You taste even better than I imagined. Believe me when I say that I'm going to lick this sweet little cunt until you're screaming my name and cumming on my tongue over and over again. But right now, I need to be inside you"

With that declaration, he sits back on his heels and reaches for the hem of his shirt, he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside. His muscles ripple and flex as he moves, a testament to the strength and power that lies beneath his skin.

Next, he unbuckles his belt. He stands briefly to shimmy out of his jeans, letting them drop to the floor and leaving him in nothing but a pair of tight, black boxer briefs that do little to hide the thick outline of his arousal.

He crawls back over you, settling between your spread thighs, his hips nestling against yours. He leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste you again. You can feel the heat of his skin, the hard length of him pressing insistently against your core.

Breaking the kiss, he reaches down to push his boxers out of the way, freeing his cock. It springs up thick and hard, the swollen head already glistening with precum. He takes himself in hand, stroking himself slowly as he looks down at you.

Caleb groans and throws his head back as your small hand wraps around him. "Princess," he grunts, his hips bucking slightly into your touch. He can feel your hesitation, your innocence, and it makes him want to take his time with you.

When you push him back onto the bed and settle between his spread thighs, his chest heaves with anticipation. He can only watch as you lean down and extend your little pink tongue to lick a slow, teasing path along the underside of his cock.

"Oh, fuck," he gasps, his fingers tangling in your hair, gripping the soft strands tightly.

"Teach me how to do it, I want to make you feel good"

"Fuck, Pip," he rasps, his hips twitching with the effort of holding still and letting you take the lead. "You're killing me here. Your mouth feels so fucking good."

He guides your head with a gentle pressure, encouraging you to take more of him into your mouth. "Start by just licking along the shaft," he instructs, his voice strained. "Use the flat of your tongue, from the base up to the tip."

As you follow his directions, he shudders and lets out a low moan. "That's it, just like that. You're doing so good, princess. Your mouth is perfect."

"Now," he continues, his breathing growing heavier, "try wrapping your lips around the head. Just the tip, okay? And suck gently, like you would with a lollipop. Use your lips and your tongue toge...Ungh...Fuck, just like that," Caleb groans, his fingers tightening in your hair as he feels your soft lips wrap around the swollen head of his cock.

He guides your head down a little further, inch by inch, letting you take more of his thick length into your mouth. "Remember to breathe through your nose, and don't worry about taking it all at once. Just focus on the head for now."

As you suck gently, your tongue swirling around the tip, Caleb's thighs tremble beneath your hands. "Shit...fuck. Now, try bobbing your head a little. Just an inch at a time, letting your lips slide along my shaft. Find a rhythm that feels good for you."

He looks down at you, his eyes dark and intense, filled with a mix of lust and affection. "You're doing amazing. I've never felt anything like this before. Your mouth is pure magic."

He watches, enraptured, as your head rises and falls, your lips wrapped snugly around him. The sight of your pretty mouth stretched around him, the feeling of your warm, wet mouth enveloping him, its too much for Caleb to take.

Caleb's body tenses, his grip on your hair tightening as he feels his release fast approaching. With a low groan, he suddenly moves, sliding his throbbing shaft from the warm haven of your mouth.

Before you can miss the loss, he's moving, flipping your body over and settling between your thighs once more. His hands grip your hips, squeezing the soft flesh as he positions himself at your entrance.

"Not yet, baby," he rasps, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I can't cum like that, not before I feel you wrapped around me. I want to be inside you when you let go."

The head of his cock nudges against your wet folds, parting them, teasing your entrance. His breath comes in short, sharp gasps as he fights the urge to surge forward, to bury himself to the hilt in one thrust.

"Can I?"

"Please Caleb"

"Biiiig stretch," Caleb grunts, his voice strained as he thrusts forward. He buries himself to the hilt slowly, his heavy balls coming to rest against your skin.

Your gasp of surprise and the way your back arches off the bed, pressing your breasts against his chest, spurs him on.

He pauses for a moment, letting you adjust to the size of him, the stretch of your untouched walls around his shaft. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, a mix of exertion and exhilaration. The heat of your core is incredible, the wetness coating his length allowing him to slide in and out of you.

He pulls back slowly, until just the tip of his cock remains inside you, before thrusting forward again, burying himself deep. He sets a steady rhythm, his hips rocking against yours as he fucks you with long, deep strokes.

He lifts your leg, hooking it over his shoulder as he angles his hips and thrusts deep, striking a spot inside you that makes your back arch off the bed.

"Do that again," you gasp, your nails digging into his back, urging him on. Your words inflame him, spurring him to do exactly as you asked. He pulls back and slams forward again, his thick cock pummeling that sensitive spot deep inside your core.

"That's it, it's there!" you cry out, your head thrown back, your throat bared to his hungry gaze.

He leans down, capturing your nipple his teeth grazing the sensitive peak. He suckles and nips at the hardened bud. His hand slides between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing the swollen nub in tight, quick circles.

Your screams of pleasure fill the room, a symphony of ecstasy that makes Caleb's heart soar. He can feel your body trembling beneath him, your walls fluttering and clenching around him. The pleasure is overwhelming, unlike anything you've ever experienced on your own. It leaves you dizzy and breathless, your mind hazing with the intensity of it all.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," Caleb grunts, his voice strained as he pounds into you with wild abandon. Sweat beads on his brow, his muscles flexing and rippling with each thrust. He's lost in the sensation of your tight cunt, in the way your body molds to his perfectly.

But then, he feels it. The way your hips start to rock up to meet his, your body instinctively seeking more pleasure. Your legs wrap around his waist, your heels digging into his backside as you urge him deeper, harder, faster.

"Don't fucking stop," you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths and wanton moans. "Don't ever stop, Caleb. Please."

He reaches down, gripping your thigh and hiking your leg even higher, until your knee is nearly pressed to your chest. The new angle allows him to drive even deeper into your core, his cock head kissing your cervix with each savage thrust. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall.

Your body tenses, back arching sharply as the coil of pleasure inside you snaps. A scream tears from your throat, raw and primal, as your climax crashes over you. Your walls clamp down around him like a vice, gripping his length with a force that steals his breath. The sensation is too much, too intense, too perfect.

His hips stutter, his rhythm faltering as your cunt milks his cock, demanding his own climax.

His cock pulses and throbs as he finds his own release, thick ropes of hot seed erupting from the swollen head to paint your insides white.

"I can't... I can't believe it," he gasps, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. "I thought I could last longer, but you just... god, Pip, you just felt too fucking good."

He's not sure if he was too rough, too demanding in his desire to claim you, to make you his. The thought that he might have hurt you leaves him feeling guilty and protective.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. "Did I hurt you, baby? I didn't mean to be so rough..."

He searches your face intently, looking for any sign of discomfort or pain. But all he sees is a reflection of his own satisfaction, his own lingering pleasure.

You shake your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "No, I'm not hurt," you assure him

"Wanna go again?" he asks teasingly. He rocks his hips slightly, his softening cock still nestled deep inside your sensitive core.

"You're secretly a dirty dog, Caleb," you accuse playfully, a giggle escaping your lips. You nip at his jaw, your teeth grazing the stubble that's begun to grow there. "A big, bad, horny dog."

Caleb's only response is a low, rumbling "Woof," his lips curling into a wolfish grin.

[temporarytemporal]

cling to me

I know I said I was going to distance myself from this piece of media because of all of its terrible connections, but these two characters seem to have taken root in a permanent place in my heart, and I can't let them go.

Anyway, here's some character design notes below the cut for the one person out there who's obsessed with these characters as much as me.

Early DSMP: the era of childhood innocence

Bandanas: They sport each other’s bandana’s (they’re hidden in the design for every era). I love character designs with complementary colors (and I love how red and green are also cranboo’s colors)

Disks: Early on, cat and mellohi represent the peaceful moments ctommy shared with his favorite people, but they went on to be a symbol of victory and independence from the people who have hurt him.

Flowers: Ctubbo collects flowers and tries to memorize the meanings and symbolism tied to each type of flower. He also collects them for his bees.

L’manberg: the era where children became soldiers

Horns: Ctubbo’s horns start to grow in here.

Pogtopia: the era of an exile and a secretary of state / spy

You can tell I joined the fandom at the end of this era because I don’t have many notes here or for the l’manberg era.

Exile: the era of an exile once again and and a president too young

Hair: Ctommy’s hair starts to grow longer as he neglects taking care of himself.

Clothes: Ctommy’s clothes are tattered; one shoe is destroyed and he took to wearing cw-lbur’s (f-ck ccw-lbur btw!!) trench coat.

Bandages: Ctubbo’s wrapped in bandages from his recently earned firework burns. He’s gone blind in his right eye, and he’s missing the ring and pinkie finger on his right hand.

Compasses: They share their matching ‘your tommy’ and ‘your tubbo’ compasses

Hog Hunt: the era where one sought to kill the blood god while the other sought refuge there

Stolen goods: Ctommy’s has his antarctic empire outfit plus all the goods he stole from ctechno like the turtle helmet, golden apples, and the axe of peace.

Bedrock: Ctommy wears his counterpart piece matching techno’s from his ear.

Prosthetic: Ctommy’s right foot had to be amputated after he loses it to frostbite in the trek to cemeraldduo’s cabin. Ctechno gives him a simple prosthetic.

Disc Finale: the era of mended relationships and a final stand

Headband: Ctommy begins to wear a devil headband to fit in more, as he’s one of the few humans on the server. The devil horns were chosen to resemble ceryn’s real ones.

Patchwork: Ctommy learns to sew, and he fixes his tattered clothes from exile.

Post Revival:

Devil horns: Ctommy’s devil horns (plus a tail) become real after revival, and he gets a white streak in his hair.

Prime cross: The bad things that have happened to them both that they survived strengthen ctommy’s faith in prime, whereas they weaken ctubbo’s faith.

Sweater: Ctommy makes himself a sweater from friend’s wool.

Mechanical inventions: Ctubbo pursues his passion for engineering more as he makes mechanical bee drones and studies nuclear physics. He also makes himself prosthetic fingers, and he upgrades ctommy’s prosthetic foot.

Marriage ring: Ctubbo marries cranboo platonically and wears the ring on his horn. He also founds snowchester so he can have a place to protect his loved ones and raise his son. He grows out his hair to avoid eye contact for cranboo and to cover his scars.

Body type: Ctubbo gets chubbier and gains some muscle as he gets a bit happier in life.

Post DSMP:

The prison break and everything after it never happened. These are my OCs, and I make the rules because every actor/writer who played a part in their creation either abandoned them or turned out to be a terrible person. Cbenchtrio live happily ever after and begin their journey of healing while cdream rots in prison forever.

[bear-yawns]

　𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗞.　lando norris · #4

　　　lando thinks he isn't the jealous type, but when it comes to his best friend, he might just be very wrong about that.

genres : best friends to lovers ... fluff ... lando x fem!reader.　word count : 1.4k.　warnings : jealousy ... lando misreading and overthinking.　 note : i recycled this fic from my main (it used to be a kpop fic, but i edited it and rewrote some lines).　　　( masterlist )　( taglist )

Lando had always thought jealousy was a stupid thing. Easily jealous people were insecure and only caused headaches for themselves and others. He prided himself with how secure he was, not easily swayed by feelings of envy off the track. And, as such, Lando had never suspected to get jealous, much less over his best friend. 

He didn’t know how to combat the feelings he soon felt rising when he saw you across the room, at this stupid New Year’s party his friend had hosted. You looked nothing short of stunning in your red satin dress, commanding the attention of the whole room it seemed. Lando simply couldn’t look away from you. But while he was busy falling into the hypnosis that you cast on him, he was hyper aware of how close you were to George, how you kept laughing at whatever joke he was telling. 

George Russell was loveable and fun to be around. Talented, smart, attractive; and a full head above Lando in height. He’d only been your friend for a few months. Lando had known you for half of his life. Surely, he wasn’t threatened by George’s presence, was he?

Lando felt dumb thinking about it like that. George couldn’t steal you from him— you weren’t even his to begin with. But he couldn’t help but feel his chest burn seeing you make eye contact with the taller man, a pretty smile gracing your lips and your eyes scrunching to complete it. He wished he had the confidence to storm up to where you and George stood and make up some excuse to steal you away from him, if even for a few moments. But he was afraid of acknowledging the obvious jealousy he felt, finding it tarnished his ego. 

Oscar, ever the observant man he was, found his friend sitting in the corner of the room, sipping on apple cider with a stare that could burn a hole through anyone. With a gaze so fixed on your figure, it was easy to connect the dots. He took a seat next to his friend, offering his mug of cider to toast. 

“You look like you want to banish George from the planet,” Oscar muttered with a smile. He was aware of Lando’s crush on you. It was hard to not see the way he looked at you. What Oscar could see that Lando didn’t, however, was how mutual the feelings seemed to be. Every time you visited the paddock, you were near inseparable from him. 

“I don’t,” Lando lied. It was a pathetic attempt to hide his churning stomach and aching heart. 

“Y/n looks pretty tonight. I wonder who she dressed up for?” Oscar nudged Lando’s arm.

“Isn’t it obvious? They’ve been attached at the hip for the last 20 minutes,” Lando took another sip of cider, letting the warm spices and tartness burn down his throat. He tried to make his words seem unaffected by the fact he was pointing out, but, to Oscar, who already knew of his frankly crippling crush on you, it was obvious how bothered he was by the sight. 

“Someone’s jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, mate. I don’t get jealous.” 

As he uttered the defense, his eyes flitted towards your figure, once again caught breathless by how good you looked. There was an obvious absence of George by your side for the first time since Lando had sat down. He assumed he must have walked off. Your eyes were glancing around the room, and once they landed on Lando, they brightened. You started walking over to him, champagne in hand. Oscar patted his friend on the shoulder and stood up, leaving him alone to talk to you.   

“Hey. So this is where you’ve been hiding all night? I swear, I couldn’t find you anywhere. I almost thought I dressed up for nothing.” 

You smiled, taking the seat Oscar had been sitting in. Lando felt the churning in his stomach come to a halt, replaced by shy butterflies. 

“Wanna trade? I’ve already had too much champagne for one night,” you asked, not giving Lando any time to answer before swapping your glasses, humming in content at the taste of the warm cider. Lando smiled, taking a sip of the half empty glass of champagne that had found its way into his hand.

“You look nice tonight,” Lando said, giving you a glance, trying not to seem obvious. Your smile widened at his comment, and he couldn’t help but feel immense satisfaction at scoring over George. 

“Really? You don’t look so bad yourself. You tried something different with your hair. It really works.” 

He nodded. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected you to notice as nobody else had. After spending an extra twenty minutes scrutinizing it in the mirror along with his outfit before leaving for the party, he was glad the person he had put the effort in for had taken note. As conversation went on and you started talking, Lando soon found himself entirely lost in your presence and words. Eyes trained onto your face, smile following your sentences. You made everything feel so easy, vanishing all of his previous doubts and worries. All he could focus on was you, and you were back to being best friends; always getting along, always having more things to say to each other, always making the other laugh. 

The conversation shifted eventually, and the topic of your previous conversation with George came up. Something about modelling, but Lando couldn’t entirely focus on processing your words. His focus had shifted to how you seemed to talk about George, retelling the story with such enthusiasm and a sparkle in your eyes. Lando didn’t know if you talked about him like that to your friends, but there was a part of his muddled brain that wished you would; wished you did.

When there was a pause in the conversation, Lando found the words falling past his lips before he even realized what he was saying.

“You seem to like him a lot.”

Your eyebrows furrowed a bit at his observation. You glanced at Lando, but his face was unreadable. 

“You two look good together,” he continued, not even sure why he was bringing it up. The jealousy was glaringly obvious. He couldn’t hide it, especially not from you. You could always read him so easily. 

“What do you mean? You don’t actually think I’m interested in him, right?” 

Lando blinked, taken aback by your words. It had seemed so obvious thirty minutes ago that you were, but now he felt like he had misread you.

“I… I don’t know. It looked like—”

“Looked like what? Lando, please don’t say you really misread it that badly,” you said seriously, placing a hand on his shoulder so he would meet your gaze. His eyes found yours and his mouth fell silent immediately, unsure of what to say to justify his thoughts. 

He really was jealous. God, he felt so stupid.

“I don’t care about George. I care about you. You’re the only one who I think of in that way.” 

Lando searched your eyes, tracing them for any hesitation or dishonesty. You were sincere. Smart and kind and so, so pretty. You were miles ahead of Lando, he was sure of it. He didn’t know how he had managed to get you to stay his friend for this long, or how you even saw him in a romantic way at all. But he believed you when you said you thought of him, and God, he thought of you every day. 

He had imagined this moment many times, picturing that he would get a surge of confidence and kiss you, or ask you on a date as soon as he was sure of your feelings. But, he didn’t feel any of that. He was embarrassed instead, a flush taking over his cheeks and his eyes unable to move from the spot on the floor in between his feet.  

You looked over at him, an amused smile on your face. Your best friend was an idiot at times, but you only found it endearing. You lifted his chin gently, turning his face back towards you. Planting a small kiss on his cheek, you smiled.

“I like you, Lan. Don’t ever doubt it.” 

[the-darklings]

FOR YOUR ARCANE PROMPTS LIST POOKIE: "hands under your lover's clothes" w/Silco??? perhaps?? perchance?? PLS PLS POOKIE, MY GLORIOUS QUEEN, MY EVERYTHING <3

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ silco x gn!reader, complicated relationship, a little angst, no spoilers for s2, cat & mouse dynamic but who is who? wc: 768

“It’s dangerous playing games with a patient man.”

“Are you? Patient?”

Silco’s mouth flutters into what could pass for a fleeting smile. It’s a rare expression on him, an ease that is seldom seen in the years since he left Vander’s side. Nowadays, he is nothing like the fresh-faced youth so desperate to fix the world you first met.

“More so than many, I’d reckon,” he replies placidly, watching you with idle interest. You lean on his oak wood desk, the rough grain of the wood warm beneath your fingers as you skim over his notes and ledgers. His meticulous nature is evident in the way he organised everything about the Shimmer trade. It’s almost irritating. “You are here for a reason.”

The gentle accusation falls on deaf ears.

“I was just saying hello,” you drawl, your voice low, swinging your attention his way. Silco’s scoff is a low, throaty sound, barely audible, but filled with disdain. 

You’re not sure when it started, you and him. If it was survival or a desire for a better life that drove you both from the start. You wanted freedom and independence and then he took the Undercity, and, in a way, you too. Since then, you’ve existed in his sphere, enjoying his favour. Flaunt it without making it obvious, slipping past the cracks of his rules. 

He appears so collected on his chair, a king on his throne in truth, but his immaculate clothes are wrinkled, buttons undone, and his Adam’s apple bobs when you touch his tie. You know better than to go near his throat. The last time you did, fingers eager and teeth nipping at the taut flesh there, he jerked back as if shocked. Terror and rage had overcome him, twisting you on his bed, still tangled in each other, before you could turn back your instincts. When his hands closed around your throat in response, you didn’t fight him off, and maybe it was that above all else that made Silco snap out of his spell.

No, instead, you slip your hand past the unbuttoned shirt, tracing over his sharp collarbone. Silco rests his cheek lightly on his hand, watching you through a narrowed eyed stare. Daring you, yes, but also curious. The heavy scarring on his face never bothered you. You didn’t lack scars of your own, but this… 

You slip forward, knee resting on the chair between his parted legs, hand slipping lower, to rest over his thudding heart. 

“Hello.” Your lips shape the word before you breathe them against his lips again. Your free hand cups his face and the hard beat of his heart echoes against your palm. 

The kiss is gentle, more civilised than either of you are used to, a sweetness that lingers even though it’s not what either of you normally craves, but when he doesn’t pull away, a secret thrill shoots up your spine. His deep inhale fills your ears, the heat of his lips imprinting on yours. A deep, rumbling sound vibrates through his chest when you deepen the kiss, your fingers moving in gentle circles over his skin. 

With a viper’s swiftness, Silco snaps his hand behind your head when you break the kiss, keeping you close. Nose to nose, your breaths mingle. You can’t quite tell what lingers in his burning gaze, one icy blue, another molten gold. 

“Are you hoping to endear yourself to me?” he asks, knowing and throaty. “A foolish play.”

“I won’t say that,” you say, breathless. “And if I was… well, I think you’re holding up just fine.”

Licking your lips, you pull back, grinning at him. He hasn’t moved, his knuckles returning to his cheek. Nonchalant, except for the heavy weight with which he still examines you. Silco won’t indulge you in admitting you do this because you’re the only one he can rely on in this shitty, twisted world of yours. You support his vision, you’ve always believed it, even when you were younger. 

Adjusting your dishevelled clothes, you look over at him once more. Not so crisp and orderly for once. Satisfaction nestles in your gut at the observation that the usually perfectly groomed and dressed man—this infamous crime lord—is a mess in the dim light of his office. Undone. Caught. Even if predatory hunger reflects in that golden hue. 

You wag your fingers in a playful wave. “It’s dangerous playing games with patient people, love, haven’t you heard?”

[hanjisungslag]

attack on titan headcanons #14

synopsis: when attack on titan characters make you cry 💦

characters involved: eren, mikasa, armin, jean, sasha, connie, reiner, annie, bertolt, levi, erwin and hange.

notes: 2 posts in 2 days! arent you a lucky bugger x

☆ eren jaeger

it’s really situational for eren, he cannot take you seriously if you’re in a bad situation. if you’re on the battle field or doing anything important to do with titans, strategy plans etc. he will tell you that you can’t be crying in that moment. HOWEVER, if you’re not in any of those situations he is so empathetic!! my little baby is so sweet to you like, he’s like putty in your hands especially if he’s the one making you cry, oh my god. he would just DIE and probably cry with you.

☆ mikasa ackerman

her eyes soften… her eyebrows pinch together… her lip quivers and tilts into a frown… SHES SO DISTRAUGHT, HOW COULD SHE DO THIS? SHES SO STUPID GAHHH. super mellow, super quiet and of course, super sweet. she’ll approach you like you’re a fragile animal in the woods that she doesn’t wanna scare. she genuinely couldn’t think of anything worse in this world than upsetting you and her being that reason? HER HEARTTT, she’ll drop her nonchalant dread head act immediately and silently reassure you with physical affection.

☆ armin arlert

breaks the boys heart. he is absolutely and utterly DESTROYED. his self-esteem reaches an all time low in that very moment, as soon as that one tear fell of the apple of your cheek, GOD. he wanted the world to swallow him while to be honest, he was so upset and embarrassed he made you cry! but obviously, he really tried not to be selfish and start crying as he didn’t want to take any attention off you but trust, by the end of it, he will be crying alongside you.

☆ jean kirstein

god he is just so gentle, so caring, so comforting, so patient. he KNOWS exactly how to comfort you - he apologises profusely, sits with you, hugs you, talks the whole situation through with you LIKE UGH, and whatever it was that made you cry i can promise you this man WILL FIX THE FUCK UP! he lives to serve you and make you happy 🙇.

☆ connie springer

very quiet afterwards… he just feels really awkward, he wishes he could reverse time and just pretend nothing happened 😭. he’s like, do we break up now orrr…? he will eventually say sorry and become less awkward but, he definitely shows his sympathy through physical affection. after everything’s died down, he cracks a joke or two.

☆ sasha braus

SHES SO SWEET, definitely also awkward and she doesn’t realise you’re being serious for the first 2 minutes but afterwards oh my god, she’s so apologetic!! she gives does acts of service as an apology and of course, says sorry. profusely.

☆ reiner braun

breaks him into a million bijillion pieces. he turns into a puddle like, he just dies. HE made YOU cry? his life is over. sooo apologetic & he makes sure to let you know that he is! he will not be over this for days, days i tell you, he will continue to make it up to you even if you’re over it in like an hour.

☆ annie leonhart

she’s in shock honestly. she didn’t think you would be so upset over what she had said… but most of all, she’s shocked that seeing you upset had such a big impact on her. what- what was this? oh my god, she’s crying? because you’re crying? she’s in deepp😭. keeps her tears to her self and apologises to you and you make sure to tease her because you saw those tears!!

☆ bertolt hoover

crying with you. not in a way that would steal any attention from you or what he did to make you cry, he really tried to stop himself but after trying to not cry and apologise, he breaks down and now you’re both crying. a lot of ‘i’m sorry’ and ‘i love you’, ‘i won’t do that again‘s are being thrown around and it’s just an adorable sobbing, loving mess.

☆ levi ackerman

errrmmm, it’s kind of tough for him. he’s been very desensitised to mostly everything, even horrid things like people being eaten alive by titans, literally watching them be ripped limb from limb yk? the usual stuff! anyways, he does feel bad though because of course, he loves you. and he never wants to hurt you or be the cause of your pain so, he does apologise even if it doesn’t sound very normal coming from his mouth, lol.

☆ erwin smith

he feels bad, of course. he’s a very respectable, normal man so, as any other person, he’ll apologise for making you feel that way, say he won’t do it again, say he loves you and move on with his day.

☆ hange zoë

NOOOO THEY CANT BELIEVE THEYVE DONE THIS!! tragedy has struck 😔. they will do everything in their power to make it up to you, they will do a simple, straightforward and sincere apologise HOWEVER, afterwards they’ll do something extra for you, just as a cherry on top like, a candle lit dinner in your house or something along those lines ^o^.

[safetypinxtales]

Santa baby | Azriel

summary: it's nearing solstice and you have an extensive list for your mate Santa.

words: 1.5k

warnings: fluff, a bit of seduction, Azriel is stupid in love, like absolutely whipped, reader sits in Azriel's lap, feminine reader (lipgloss, hair below shoulder-length), otherwise neutrally described reader, no use of y/n, it's an AU where everything is the same except Santa is a thing.

notes: well, it's been a while but it's Christmas and I have free time for once so why not write? I whipped this one up in like an hour whilst waiting for our guests to arrive today, and it has minimal editing, but it's something light and sweet for the holidays. Hope you enjoy and merry Christmas! 🤍

masterlist

The glass is cold in your hand as you waltz into the living room. The winter sun had already set on the quaint seaside cottage you shared with Azriel. He had surprised you with it after your mating ceremony last solstice, and as you took in the shadows dancing around on the walls, cast by dim candle light, a feeling of contentedness enveloped you. The amber liquid in the glass sloshed with each step you took, but never quite enough to spill over the rim. It was a practiced routine, bringing him a drink whenever you found your mate a little too stuck in his work.

His head lifted from the paperwork he had been going over as he sensed your presence entering the living room, the hand that had been carefully turning a leaf falling slack on the armrest.

His eyes dropped down to your hips, watching them sway with every step you took, gaze fixed as if in a trance.

You let out a low hum as you reached him, extending the glass. His eyes met yours as he put the paperwork aside and accepted your offering.

Slowly – gracefully and practiced – you slid into his lap, one arm snaking its way around his shoulder. The warmth of his hands on your waist spread all the way into your chest, making your heart beat just that little bit faster.

Grabbing his face, feeling the slight stubble of his cheek under your palm, you planted your lips on his. 

The kiss was soft and warm, and perfectly matched the feeling blooming in your chest has he murmured a low:

“Hello, my love.”

“Hello,” you hummed back and felt that slow tug in your chest that you had come to love so. 

You gave a loving tug back and felt Azriel shudder beneath you.

Letting you gaze flit over his face, you marveled at his features. 

The dark lashes framing those mesmerizing hazel eyes of his. The colour of the finest of honey, all swirling and golden. 

The constellations of freckles adorning his cheeks, like a map only you were privy to read.

His lips, currently smeared in your lipgloss and stretched into a dopey smile making him look just as lovesick as you felt inside.

“Hey, Az?” You broke the warm silence that had enveloped you.

“Yes, my love?” He murmured, his eyes flicking down to your lips briefly before finding their way back to yours.

You leaned in to give him another soft peck, only pulling away to rest your forehead against his.

“I have.. I’ve been thinking about something,” you whispered, feeling the breath from his curious yes? on your lips. “About what I want from Santa this year.”

He pulled back slightly at your words, eyebrows raised and that dopey smile still plastered on that pretty mouth of his. He knew as well as you that Santa meant Azriel himself.

“Oh, really? Please, do tell,” his curious hum sent you heart fluttering as you settled in further in his lap.

“Well, do you remember that dagger I liked so much when we visited summer? The gold one?” You purred and ran your fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered as your nails lightly scratched his scalp.

“The one with the eye-sized ruby in the pommel?” You nodded. “My love, that blade is useless. You couldn’t even cut an apple with it, much less cause any real damage,” he scoffed, ”you’d be better off fighting someone with a cotton ball. That you could at least shove down their throat – hope they choke to death.”

His eyes gleamed at the gasp you let out. The soft swat you landed on his chest drawing out a quiet chuckle.

“I know it’s useless in combat, but it’s so pretty isn’t it? Besides, why would I need to fight when I have you to defend me?” You chirped with a flutter of lashes. 

You just managed to catch his eyes darkening before he pulled you into yet another kiss, this time firmer. Purposeful. 

Claiming.

When he pulled away his breath was heavier and his voice rougher as he swore, “I will always protect you, always defend you.”

“Even if I’m in the wrong?”

“No such thing.”

Your toes curled at his admission, and the hand that was tangled in his hair tightened its grip.

“Good answer,” you mused, and his thumbs swiped at your waist – up and down. 

“What else should Santa put on his list?”

You pretended to think for a moment, pursing your lips into a glossy pout, knowing just how crazy the act drove your mate.

And just as you could have predicted, his eyes dropped down to your mouth, his smile fading slightly, his eyelids growing heavier.

“Well you know that necklace that Feyre has? That she wore on our mating ceremony?” You asked.

He nodded in response, eyes still focused on your lips.

You let your cheeks pull into a broad smile, “well I saw that the jewellery shop by the Palace of Thread and Jewels has its twin in gold.”

“The diamond necklace you kept sighing about for weeks after the ceremony? The one that had me questioning if it was the mating bond that was making you so blue?” He questioned, his voice laced with disbelief.

“That’s the one,” you replied. Removing your hand from where it was nestled against his head, you moved to push your hair over your shoulder, exposing your décolletage.

”Wouldn’t it fit me so well?” You asked, letting your hands graze the bottom of your throat, following the curve down to the top of your chest, watching his eyes track the movement with a predatory focus.

Azriel’s throat bobbed, “It would.”

Your hand fell to his arm, giving the muscle hiding under his sweater a light squeeze. 

“Yeah, you really think so?” You gave him your best hopeful look, batting your eyelashes for added effect.

He simply nodded, too much of a lovestruck, mess of a male in your presence to form any actual words. 

“That’s good,” you hum, “now I only have one last thing on my wish list.”

Your mate didn’t verbally respond, but you took the squeeze of his hands on your hips as a sign to keep going.

“An apartment in the city.”

That seemed to bring Azriel back to life.

“An apartment? Is the cottage I got for us not enough?” He asked with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Well, no, I love the cottage – you know that. But sometimes it would be nice to have somewhere closer to go to after having spent the evening with the others, don’t you think?”

“It takes half a second to winnow from there to here,” he deadpanned, causing you to roll your eyes.

“But I think it would be nice to stay in the city sometimes. To be able to walk home, a stroll along the Sidra,” you gave him your sweetest, most innocent smile and added, “just you and me?”

You could see his resolve melting, and felt the largeness of his hand leave your waist in favour of gently stroking your thigh. 

“An apartment, huh?” His soft voice still had some reluctance hanging on to it, but you could tell he was warming up to the idea pretty quickly.

Your head bobbed up and down in confirmation, and an amused sigh left his lips.

“You must think mighty highly of yourself, dear, to think Santa would give you such special treatment,” he mused as he pulled you closer. 

“Well, I just have it on a hunch that Santa might know that my wonderful, loving mate, who – if I haven’t already mentioned – loves me so,” Azriel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as you continued, “works for the high lord.”

Amusement danced in his eyes, and a soft red glow started making its way up his cheeks.

“So maybe someone like that, like me. Like the mate of the Night court spymaster, deserves to be a little spoiled.” You leaned in to kiss his jaw, and stopped to whisper in his ear, “it sure would make her happy.”

He hummed in agreement, his thumb stroking across your thigh at a slow but steady pace.

“Besides,” you continued, leaning back to look him in the eyes, “I have been such a good girl this year.” 

Azriel’s administrations on you leg stopped, his large hand instead coming up to cup your face. 

He hummed lowly, eyes locked on your lips, eyebrows drawn together in a pensive look.

“You really have,” he murmured.

Again, he pulled you into a kiss, molding his lips to yours. You let yourself melt into him – your wonderful, loving spymaster – into the warmth radiating from his large body. Into the secure grip of his hands and the gentle softness of his lips. You let yourself melt into your mate, with no care in the world, besides kissing him back.

When you finally pulled away you leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “if Santa is very kind to me, I promise I will be just as good next year.”

“Yeah?” His voice was thick with emotion.

“Yes, maybe even better.” You promised, and leaned back to look at him. 

You cupped his jaw, the slight stubble adorning the skin scratching your hand in the most comforting way.

He shook his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Not possible.”

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