#Muffins sweep

[mlpoutofcontext]

[gigamuffin]

this entire website is irredeemable, everyone go watch master and commander right now

[imjustheretoseetheprivateblogs]

Sooooooooooooooooooooo...

I think I’m shipping Huckleberry Pie and Blueberry Muffin from Berry in the Big City, but not exactly, except that I am. Send help, I guess?

[vanderilnde]

Simon as the maintenance guy who works at your apartment complex. He’s as unseemly and off-putting as he is enormous, and every time you see his sweeping stature or heavy gait (weighed down by his utility belt) you can’t help but remind yourself, he has a master key—he has access to your flat whenever he pleases.

He strays around the complex like a lost dog looking for its owner. Or, in this case, something to do.

When you call for him to fix a leak in your flat, you’re sure to offer him homemade muffins and tea, wrapped and bowed in a little apron as he gets to work. He’s flattered, telling himself to spend a little longer on your sink. To you, Simon works diligently. He leaves with a belly full of blueberry baked goods, and refuses your tip.

After that, you see him around a whole lot more.

In the lift on your way back from work as he updates the safety regulations (which were revised just last month). Ministering to your garden on the complex rooftop, where he seems to be checking the exhaust fan (which you distinctly remember was already cleaned the week prior). In the parking lot, right beside your parking space, where he inspects a pillar for any fissures or clefts (it’s a brand new augment to the building).

Simon becomes shamelessly forthright with it, often inviting himself to your flat. He brings his toolbox along like a stray cat that drops dead mice at your doorstep, insisting you have stuff that needs to be fixed.

Is your smoke alarm intact? Do your doors latch properly? You probably need your vents cleaned.

You’re timid and reticent with all of Simon’s unheralded appearances. He’s so big and so broody, but he’s done so much for you. You can’t exactly tell him to leave you alone, not without sounding like a prick.

Simon and his “visits” become more frequent. Even when you’re not home. The kicker is, Simon honestly doesn’t see anything repellent about his actions. He’s being there for you; is that not what friends do? … Are you not his friend?

[webshooterrr9]

Punk!Miguel AU Part 2

(not proofread LMAO)

Okay but like...

punk!miguel who couldn't stop thinking about that day he shared with you. and even in the moment, with all your clenching and whining, he knew he wouldn't. so he made sure to get your number afterwards... just in case.

punk!miguel who frequently stood by his front window, looking down from his apartment as he watched you walk home from work everyday. thankfully for him, your building was right next to his, so you were sure to pass by his view five days a week.

punk!miguel who figured out that you work as the manager for a family owned cafe a few blocks away, a role that was passed down to you after a few generations. he wasn't typically a man for coffee and pastries, but he'd make an exception for his damsel in distress... just in case.

punk!miguel who just so conveniently happened to stop buy your cafe, just before closing hours. this wasn't the first time he's visited since he found your place of work, but it was the first time he's given you more than a shit-eating grin and a sly comment.

"You gonna hurry up with that muffin, or are you gonna keep me here all night?" you ask from behind the counter, hands on your hips. he looked over from the table he was sitting at and just flashed you a smirk. you two were the only people here, given that it was almost 11pm and completely dark outside.

"Oh, you know me," he said turning in his seat to face you. "Never one to rush, always want to savor my meal." he gave you a little wink, and you rolled your eyes.

"Whatever, take as long as you want, I'm gonna clean up for closing." you pulled a broom from the corner and started sweeping the little crumbs in your kitchenette, while Miguel went back to "savoring" his chocolate muffin.

The door to the building swung open. "Nobody move!"

You were frozen in your place, almost dropping the broom. A large man, though not as large as Miguel, dressed in dark sweats was aiming a gun at you, with a fierce look in his eyes.

Great, now you're being robbed.

You carefully set the broom down at your feet, and hold your hands up. The retail counter did very little to make you feel safe from the intruder. "Listen, I don't know what you want from me, okay? If you're looking for money, I don't have any. Nobody really pays in cash these days and-"

"Just shut up and empty the register!"

You were quick to do as he said, even though robbing a small cafe in the 21st century didn't seem very profitable - you didn't say anything though, out of fear of being shot. You gathered all the money from the cash register, pulling out a hundred dollars or so in change. "Do... do you want it in a bag?" you asked, visibly sweating.

The man shook the gun in front of your face. "Just give me the damn money! And don't you dare try to call the cops, I'll shoot 'ya right where you stand, lady."

Unfortunately for him, the intruder was too distracted by getting the cash from you that he didn't notice the large delinquent behind him, holding a fire extinguisher above his head.

With a loud WHACK the intruder fell to the ground, dropping his gun in the process. Miguel stood above him, glaring down at the unconscious man, who now definitely had a concussion. The look in Miguel's eyes was something you had never seen before, well, except for that other time he happened to save you.

He placed the fire extinguisher on the counter and looked towards you. "You alright, chiquita?" he asked, although before you could answer, he reached over the counter to grab some ribbon.

"You tie up your little goodie bags with these, right?" you nod. He takes a few handfuls of the blue ribbons and makes quick work wrapping them in knots around the robber's wrists. Miguel kicks the weapon away. "These aren't exactly handcuffs, but they'll work for the time being. Call the cops, bonita. I'll make sure he doesn't get up." Miguel gives you a reassuring smile, before kneeling down in front of the man.

Red and blue lights fading away told you that the cops had successfully restrained the armed intruder and were on their way to detain him. You had stepped out from behind the counter and slumped down on the floor in front of it, leaning your head back against it. Miguel chuckles as you sigh, and he sits down next to you.

"That was not how I expected the night to end." you huffed, rubbing your temples in exhaustion. He flashed you a knowing smirk. "Oh? And how did you expect it to end, hermosa? ¿Querías hacer el amor conmigo, hmm?" you scoffed as he gave your shoulder a little nudge.

"Don't even go there, that's not what I was talking about, chulo." you huff once more, earning another laugh from him. "What I meant was I wasn't expecting to get robbed today."

"Almost robbed, guapa. I saved you, just like last time."

You smirk. "Yes, just like last time."

You both share a look, one that reveals your growing feelings for one another. Your heart was beating rapidly. You knew where this was going.

"So, is my damsel gonna give me the same reward as last time? Or, are my heroics undeserving of praise?" you bite your lip, and he leans in closer. So close, in fact, that his arm was rubbing up against yours - the tattooed skin heavily contrasting your blank canvas.

"Hmm, it depends. I don't really wanna walk all the way home..." a mischievous look shines in your eyes, and this time it's his heart that pounds. "Will you carry me?"

Another one of his laughs. "No, chica, I won't carry you... we can have our fun right here."

Oh.

Oh.

>:)

Tags for those who requested this: @mybvalentine @animequeen4 @bluesunleaf @nakimushiohime @loser-alert @stopxplease

[luvrxbunny]

sundress

Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!Reader

Prompt: Sundress

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, piv, unprotected sex, some praise (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.9k

A/N: couldn’t figure out how to end this *crying in the distance*

Steve opens the front door with a sigh, his hand running through his hair as he walks in. His day was more stressful than it needed to be. There was an early summer rush and Robin had left him high and dry to hang out with Nancy so he didn’t even have time to find someone to cover her shift. The only thing that got him through the day was the thought that you were at his home. 

His parents are away for a month and after one week of you going back and forth between your house and his, he offered you to move in with him. You’ve been with him since, the little light at the end of his tunnel. He likes having you around, having you here when he gets home, it makes him feel like an old-timey married couple. You’re usually working at his desk, in his shirt and sometimes his jacket. Today’s sight is awakening something inside him though. 

You’re in a sundress, and an apron, cooking at the stove. He can smell something sweet in the air, like you’ve been baking and humming a song in the kitchen. It’s a scene out of a movie from the '60s; you’re dancing around the kitchen with that pretty, soft smile on your face. You light up when you see him. “Steve!” You put down the bowl you were mixing and wipe your hands on your apron before rushing over to him. “I wanted to have a picnic or something? We can stay inside if you want- I’m not sure what the weather’s like but-” 

He wraps his arms around you and drops some of his weight on you, earning a giggle at his name. He stays silent, breathing you in and imagining how peaceful life would be with you. He’d come home to this, almost every day, you in your frilly little apron, baking for him and greeting him with that beaming smile of yours. If he’s lucky you’ll let him get you pregnant, and you’d have a little one on your hip while stirring whatever you’re cooking for dinner. Maybe some he’d come home early to you dusting around the house, sweeping, or mopping. His housewife. Steve wants you to be his housewife. “Steve?”

You question softly, he’s silently inhaling your scent, his hands slowly tightening around you. He groans low against the top of your head and sighs again. “Missed you.” You squeeze him tighter and snuggle your head into his chest. “I missed you too, baby.” You slowly lift your head and he moves his to let you. You stare into his eyes for a bit before leaning up to kiss him, all the tension leaving both of your bodies. He slides his hands to your shoulder and pulls you closer, towering over you as you try and pull away with a giggle. 

“My stuff’s gonna burn, Stevie!” You slip out of his arms and head back into the kitchen, muttering about how your muffins are going to be crunchier than you wanted. He feels like he’s in a dream as he watches you turn off the oven, inspecting your muffins before pulling them out. He takes his shoes off as you finally finish your meals and desserts. You’re setting everything up on a blanket you put down in the middle of his living room. He’s moving sluggishly as he takes off his vest. 

You notice his heaviness, how down he seems and it wipes the smile off your face. “Do you want to? We don’t have to- I know you’re probably- you might be tired. We can-” He smiles to himself at your rambling before walking over to you and placing a grounding kiss on your forehead. He shakes his head and puts on a smile for you. “I’m alright, baby.”

He’s silent for most of the night, listening to the drama of your life and your new obsessions, he’s attentive while listening but doesn’t speak up often. You’re now washing the dishes as he packs up the rest of the picnic. He’s bringing you abandoned dishware, dropping the occasional spoon or cup into the sink with an apologetic face you meet with a smile. You’re almost finished when you hear his footsteps come up behind you, you’re waiting for him to put another dish in the sink but instead, he just stops behind you. You feel like you can see the broad shadow he’s casting over the sink area as he stands. You try to stay calm, ignoring the way you buzz under his gaze until you finish the dishes. 

You take your gloves off and turn to him with a smile. He already has a desperate look in his eye, one you had expected to see when he walked in earlier, it was the whole reason you whipped out your apron. You’d seen the way he’s been looking at you since you’ve been living with him so you wanted to test something out. But poor Steve came home too tired to give you any reaction. Now that he’s fed and energized though, the sundress that’s been hiding beneath your apron looks really good. He’s staring right down your cleavage, not even trying to hide his gaze and you don’t hide the obvious step forward you take to press his bulge against your lower stomach. His eyes flutter shut and he gives you a shaky exhale, his cool breath fanning over your face. 

“But my muffins…” You trail off, a soft pout resting on your face. He chuckles at you, a smile splitting his soft lips as he brings his hands to your cheeks and leans down. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He kisses you with everything he has and his hands immediately leave your face to reach your thighs, tapping them twice for you to jump. He lifts you, holding you with your legs wrapped around his waist tightly. He walks over to the island in his kitchen and sits you there with a groan as you bite into his lip softly. “I need you.”

He says it differently than he normally does, less frantic and urgent, more pleading, more needy. You caress his face gently and your heart warms at the way his eyes flutter shut.  “I know, Stevie.” He whimpers and leans into you, pressing you against the cold granite of the counter and draping you in his warmth. His hand is bunching in your dress, pulling them up to your hips, and moans, happily surprised to find you wearing nothing underneath. His eyes shoot open and lock with yours, painfully aroused by the shy smirk on your face. 

You giggle at him and push your hips up, prompting him to keep moving, he shakes his head at you, feigning disappointment as he turns his attention back to your leaking pussy. His rough jean material digs into your sensitive thighs and lips as he presses himself against you. Your hands fly to his belt desperately, pulling at any leather you can get your hands on and hoping you pull the right thing at some point. Steve lets you struggle, he watches your hands fumble on his belt, frantic for his cock. He tries not to let his smirk get on his face but your frustrated whine at his uncooperative belt forces the smile onto his face. He brings his hands down to gently pull yours away from his belt. 

You pout below him, upset that his belt wasn't working with you. He takes it off himself and wiggles his jeans down with his briefs, leaving just enough room for his cock and throbbing balls. He wraps his hand around his cock with a sigh, bringing your attention away from your little tantrum and back to him. He watches you look him over and your gaze locks on his red, throbbing cock. He waits for you to look back up at him but you don’t your eyes stay on his dick as he slowly pumps it. He’s trying to stay calm but your gaze is turning him on so much he’s started to leak onto you, a small string of precum dripping down from his tip and rolling down your mound, getting lost between your lips. 

You shiver and finally look up at him with begging eyes. He holds your contact, bringing one hand up to your face to keep it turned toward him as his other hand guides his dick into you. His breathing stutters at your overwhelming warmth, at the way he’s instantly coated in your slick. He takes a deep breath and leans down to you, pressing his chest against yours before pushing the rest of his cock into you. You scream out his name and your hands bury in his hair, his favorite feeling. “Just like that, Stevie. Right there, my love.”

His eyes roll back at your praise and his hands come to your hips, pulling you onto him while he thrusts into you with all the energy he has left. His head is resting on your chest, his ear on your heart, and listening to the way it’s pounding. His eyes are clenched shut, trying to focus on your pleasure instead of the way you’re sucking him in. He’s already pulsing inside you and you’re fluttering around him. Your hips keep twitching in his grip, trying to fuck yourself on his dick faster than he wanted to fuck you. Even though his hands are stopping your hips from moving, your pussy still chokes him every time you try, uncontrollably tightening on him and forcing groan after groan from his lips. 

He grinds his hips into you slowly, nudging his tip into your cervix and his patch of curls into your clit; the perfect combination, Steve knows it too. He already has a smirk on his face when your moans kick up, pitching into something ethereal. His hips snap into you more desperately as he feels his balls tense. He lifts his head off of your chest and your hands are pulling his face to yours instantly. You moan into his lips, your lips wet and bitten against his, he can’t help the whines that fall into you. His hands leave your hips to hold your face to his as his hips take on a mind of their own, fucking into you with a pace that’ll have both of you exploding in a matter of minutes. 

Your face is stuck in a shocked, silent moan as you stare at him, little whimpers resembling his name are the only noises he’s able to get out of you until your eyes roll back and you go limp against him. Ragged moans shoot out of you as you suffocate him, your hands almost ripping his hair from his head as he thrusts into you, chasing his orgasm as he watches your eyes cross. His cock throbs again, a warning before it explodes inside you. 

You can feel his warmth burst and spread throughout you and he grunts your name against your lips. His eyes shut tight, every muscle pulled tense as he shakes against you. The only sounds coming from him are gruff curses and your name. His hands are shaking as he cradles your face, keeping it close to his as his hips jerk into you, thrusting with the aftershocks of his orgasm before collapsing against you. You stroke his hair with a soft sigh as you try to even your breathing. He’s just resting against you, so loose you feel like he could slide onto the floor. 

All the stress from his day is gone. He thinks he could do this, deal with the stress of his job, whatever stress his outside life throws at him. He'll be okay as long as he's coming home to you.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[holylulusworld]

Big girls don't cry - Prologue

Summary: You are no stranger to heartbreak.

Pairing: CEO!Steve Rogers x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: angst, strong reader, mentions of former heartbreak, fluff 

Rating: Teen 

Square 4 filled for @marvelfluffbingo (expired): Pillow forts 

Square 10 filled for @warmandfluffybingocards: Build a pillow fort

Big girls don’t cry masterlist

The first time a boy broke your heart was at the age of six. 

He only played with you to get free cupcakes and cookies at one of your grandmother’s bakeries.

You caught him kissing another girl’s cheek. He just shrugged and said that you are chubby and scare him.

You shrugged, called him out, and shoved him. That little shit landed on his ass, in a puddle. His pants were soaked, and he ran home, crying like a baby.

The second time a boy broke your heart was harder. 

You were twelve and he was your first crush. He liked hanging out with you and gave you your first kiss.

But when your classmates asked if you are his girlfriend, he said you’re just the fat girl helping him with his homework. Not even a friend. 

This time, you shoved the bastard against a wall, sized him up, and called him a dipshit. Before you walked away like a queen, not a girl with a broken heart.

You didn’t cry. Not in front of him or your nosy classmates. The first teardrop fell the moment the door of your room closed behind you. You called in sick and built a pillow fort to hide from the world.

The next time a boy broke your heart you were prepared. You knew something was wrong when he started to text you less. One of his dick head friends made a stupid comment and the next moment your boyfriend decided you are not the girl he wants to take to prom.

You kicked his balls, making him cry. And later, you remodeled his car with a baseball bat when you caught him in the backseat with some other girl.

People said you should try anger management. You said people should stop judging others by their size and cheating on their partners.

After that, you stayed on your own for a while. No man got the chance to break your heart until you met a blue-eyed hunk sweeping you off of you your feet. Literally. 

He ran you over on his way to a meeting. Steven Grant Rogers. Your hero in an expensive suit wanted to pick you up.

He didn’t care that you told him you’re too heavy or, that you can get back up on your own. Steve insisted on helping you up and carrying you toward the nearby bench. You protested but he canceled his meeting and invited you for dinner to make things up to you.

That’s how you ended with a broken heart yet again.

Now, ...

“Baby doll, I gotta go,” Steve whispered in your ear. He pressed a soft kiss to your ear shell as you wrapped your arms around him. “I’ll be back in a week and have all the time in the world for my girl.”

“It’s alright,” you mumbled. “Dad wants me to check on the newest store. The baker is not good.” You sighed. “If only I wasn’t the best baker in town.”

“In the state.”

“Last time you said in the world.” You lifted your head to look at Steve. “Did you find a better baker yet?” 

He grinned. “Of course not, baby doll.” Steve hastily said. “I’m not much of a cake eater, but I love your cookies, cupcakes, and muffins.”

“I hope you don’t compliment my food to get me in your bed, Sir,” you joked. “You know, I’m not the kind of girl to forgive you if you insult my cake!”

“I know how to make things up to my girl,” he purred in your ear. “I’ll be so good to you when I’m back from my business trip. I promise to have more time for you from now on. I just need to…”

“Take over another company?” you teased. “You’re like a vampire, sucking an already weak victim dry.”

“That’s not how we do business. You know that.”

“Steve, you and your partners buy companies and fire people all the time.”

“I save companies in trouble.”

“Let’s not fight,” you stopped the discussion before it got out of hand. You don’t like Steve’s job, or the fact that he buys companies that are in trouble. “We have different opinions about this, but you’re a good man, and I know you only fire people to save the company.”

“Come here.” Steve wrapped his arms around you to grope your plump ass. “That’s my girl.” He purred. “I can’t wait to come back to you.”

>> Part 1

Tags in reblog.

[theyanderespecialist]

Happy Father To Be (Headcanons) Yandere Stolas x Loving Pregnant Wife Listener (Helluva Boss) (Alternate Universe)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I'm back with a new chapter! This one is a request of headcanons on how Stolas would react and be like finding out his loving wife is pregnant! Please enjoy this!]

(Disclaimer: Stolas is not Yandere in canon! This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously! This is also, obviously a AU, and not canon! It is fine to simp for fictional characters and fictional yanderes! Just do not be gross or illegal about it. Also, remember to separate fiction from reality, and headcanon from canon! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life!)

-Headcanons With Stolas X Pregnant Wife Listener-

.Stolas was over the moon when you told him that you were pregnant.

.He did not even know it was a possibility that you and he could have a child.

.You are so loving to him and kind and perfect.

.After his first wife he thought he could never have a happy marriage.

.But then you showed up in his life, sweeping him off his feet.

.He is a dotting husband while you are pregnant.

.You can not ever carry a box of cereal with Stolas fretting that you are overworked.

.He would be the type to massage your feet and back.

.Which winds up with him making love to you quite vigorously.

.He adores you so much and worships your body, when you do not want sex itself he still worships your body.

.Showing you just how much you mean to him.

.He does not even need to get off for it to be satisfying.

.Stolas also has a pregnancy kink.

.Seeing you full with HIS child! It puts him always in the mood.

.He constantly needs to be touching you, always having his hands on you in some form.

.He would be the one getting up with you in the morning to help with morning sickness.

.Ording you anything you wanted for cravings.

.Giving in to every want you had.

.It almost is too much with him hovering.

.Because he is still a yandere and you are now carrying a new Goetia.

.So he in this sense, is a worry wart yandere.

.In which he would be constantly worried that someone would come after him.

.Like Striker, his ex-wife, his ex-brother-in-law, or even his father.

.Which makes him only let you out with him.

.He cannot risk you being hurt.

.He tells you it is for your own good, that he is keeping you safe and sound.

.Really he is in a constant state of worry that you will be taken from him.

.That yours and his child would be harmed.

.He cannot stand the idea.

.So he may forbid you from leaving the mansion.

.He knows you will put up a big fight, knows you will be hurt, but it is for the best.

.He is also a very protective yandere and if someone were to hurt you.

.He would destroy them.

.You, Octavia, and the future children inside of you.

.That is all that matters, he would even go as far as destroying Stella. In a brutal and cruel way.

.No one, NO ONE! Takes you away, NO ONE harms yours and his child.

.You are his world, and he is damned if his family is harmed ever!

.So in the end he is a doting, protective, loving, affectionate, possessive, father to be.

.You gave him so much happiness he will NEVER EVER let that happiness or you be taken away from him.

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS another chapter done, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Also, this will be made into a video format on youtube! Which also might have a scenario with it, so keep an eye out for that! Anyways, I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!]

(The video also has more added to the headcanons (cause I thought of More while recording it XD lol) anyways hope you all enjoy it!) 

(also a mini scenario in the video :D) 

keep your eyes out! 

[plush-rabbit]

Simmering and Smothering

Part 2 to It’s Always Coffee

Word Count: 7K

A/N: I’m soft for this guy rn. He’s so !!! Anyways, I um don’t know what else to say

- You stand with a group of people, a lanyard hangs from your neck, and you pinch at the plastic cover that holds a card reading “Visitor” stuck on it. People part of the group peek through windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the wonders behind the glass. You're sure at some point you saw Dr. Ohnn standing close to a coworker. He must have felt your gaze, because he looked up and you had to fist your hand to restrain yourself from waving at him. But when the scientist beside him puts their hand on his back, returning his attention to the project in front, you find yourself digging your nails into the flesh of your palms.

You look around, but nothing catches your eye as it should at Alchemax. While you knew that they wouldn’t show a tour group all the dark and gritty experiments, a part of you wishes that you were able to slip away to explore, but any chances of that were snuffed out with a warning at being kicked out and banned should you stray. However, you do enjoy getting to step foot into the building. The group is led through glass doors, and you hear a few people sigh in relief. Walking in, windows line the room and let in a nice glow of sun. 

“Okay,” Dr. Octavius says with a clap of her hands, “this is the cafeteria where we will be having lunch. Those tables over there-” she points over to a cluster of tables that have been protected with stanchions- “will be where you all will be eating. Lunch is one hour, and if anyone needs to go to the restroom, please contact a security guard.” Her gaze is friendly, smile wide and tone with the slightest hint of superiority, she speaks to all, before her gaze lands on you, her smile falling ever-so-slightly. “If you fail to inform a guard, and are caught wandering, you will be immediately removed from the premises.” Smiling, you give her an “okay” symbol, and in response, she looks away from you. “Okay!” She chirps, taking a step to the side, she sweeps her arms towards the selection of food. “Enjoy your lunch.”

You’re at a cart, holding a tray consisting of fruits, and a bottle of juice. You peer over the selection of bread, holding a saran wrapped bagel. You pull your mouth into a line, wanting to put it back, but unsure if that’s okay to do so. Sure, it’s saran wrapped, but what if it’s not okay to place things back. You’ve already picked it up, and with a sigh, you place it on your tray. You look over the rest of the selection of the grains, and perk up at the sight of a muffin. Happily, you reach to grab at it before your wrist is grabbed at.

“Hey-” You bark out, pulling your hand out of the grasp and turning to look at whoever it was that clutched your wrist. You stop short when you realize that it’s Dr. Ohnn. “I feel like we talked about appropriate ways to greet others,” you muse, grabbing at the saran wrapped muffin. 

“What are you doing here?” he hisses, and you frown. 

Your eyes scan his face, and you fold the tray closer to you. “You’re upset,” you conclude, tilting your head with furrowed brows. 

“Of course I am,” he hisses. Your ears begin to burn, and you look around the cafeteria, many of the patrons sitting down and ignoring you- including the tour group you are a part of. When you look back at him, he continues. “Why are you here?”

“I’m part of the tour.” You jerk your head over where your tour members sit behind the stanchions. “Fisk was promoting it- something to show off Alchemax and how family-friendly it is. But if you ask me, I think it’s just a cover to stop people from asking-”

“I don’t care,” he rushes. 

You pull your lips into a thin line. “Okay, you don't have to be rude.” His eyes widen, and his shoulders rise. He opens his mouth, but you press forward. “Listen, I paid my way in, okay? If you’re upset with it, then I don’t know what to tell you.” He stays silent and you look back to your group. Turning back to him, you start. “Is that all, Dr. Ohnn? May I go sit down, or do you want to continue reprimanding me?”

He opens and closes his mouth, and when you turn on your heel, he calls your name. You turn to him with a waiting look. “I apologize.” You encourage him with a nod of your head. “I just-” he looks around, and grabs your wrist, pulling you to another station of food, grabbing a tray, and standing in front of the selection of fruits. 

“You just?”

“I hadn’t thought that you would be here. I-” with his middle finger, he pushes up his glasses by the bridge- “I wasn’t aware there was a tour going on.”

“Does that matter?” You ask, grabbing at a cup of peeled mandarins. 

“Scientists are usually the one to lead groups,” he says quietly, "due to the fact that it is our projects we are showcasing. We all take turns with it given that leading groups take time away from our projects. This should have been a group that I would have led. Dr. Octavius must have seen your name on the roster and decided to lead it for the day.” He gives you a look. “I’m surprised that she let you in.”

“I paid,” you shrug. “She isn’t happy about it or anything, but-” you end it with a shrug. “Anyways, I won’t bother your lunch or anything. I’m simply here to see the building and enjoy lunch.” You give him a smile as you lift up your tray. “Have a good day Dr. Ohnn.” You nod your head, ready to walk away before he stops you.

“Do you have to sit down with the others?” You turn to him, and look at him quizzically. “We um- We never finished our conversation from the other day.”

You tighten your grip on the tray. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “You kinda left without exchanging numbers. But I don’t think I’m allowed to sit elsewhere.” You look back at your group. “I’d invite you to sit with me, but I’m not sure if I could give you quite a riveting conversation as your work buddies.”

“You can. You have,” he says so, without any hesitation. “Our last conversation was entertaining.” 

"You think so?" 

He opens his mouth, before being interrupted by someone calling his name. "Jonathan," calls someone far too cheery from the door. A few heads turn to watch as another scientist- you think that they look familiar- and turn back around once the scientist enters the cafeteria. They turn on their heel to wave at another and it clicks- it's the scientist that touched his back.

You look back to the doctor, giving him a raised look. He has a sort of flush that colors in his face, and you purse your lips together. 

The scientist walks toward the both of you, but their attention is solely on Jonathan. "Jonathan-" they say his name with a sickly sweet tone- "I thought you were going to wait for me so we can have lunch together." They smile brightly at the other and you watch as they reach over to squeeze at his bicep. "You hadn't forgotten, had you?"

"My apologies, Dr. Owens." You don't miss the way that he refers to the scientist by their last name while they refer to him by his first. A frown tugs at corner of your lips- they refer to him by his first name. You glance between the two and a pit settles in your stomach. "I hadn't forgotten, but I got distracted. It must have slipped my mind."

"You don't normally get distracted," they note, and their eyes dart at you. With the consequence of being acknowledged, you smile at them. "Ah. Part of the tour group, huh? No wonder you bothered our precious doctor." They're far too sweet with their words, it makes you uncomfortable. You open your mouth to apologize, but they continue on. “I was wondering if we could get the chance to go over our notes?” You feel as if you're in the middle of something. Standing besides Dr. Owens, you feel unsure of yourself. You clear your throat. They turn to you, and their smile is beaming. “Ah, I didn't mean to interrupt. While I’m sure Dr. Ohnn would love to engage with others about theories and his work, I do have to steal him away from you.” Their smile turns gentle, and you feel silly standing between them. “Sorry,” they apologize with a smile. 

"Uh, yeah." You grit your teeth- that came out less eloquently than you would liked. "Sorry, Dr. Ohnn." You tap your heel against the ground. “I’ll leave you to it.”

"Oh- Um-” he looks at you, and you smile at him, shrugging your shoulders. He returns his look towards the other scientist, and you let your gaze drift down. You walk away, catching only a glimpse of their conversation. “What would you like to discuss?”

Sitting down at a designated table, the other tour members greet you. You smile and pick at your bagel, taking small bites, regretting not getting some kind of topping. You bite at your muffin, nodding along as the other group members talk about the experiments going on at the building. 

It would make sense for him to have a partner. He's attractive, and has a good job. With the one conversation that you've had with him, he was well spoken. You eat your mandarins, letting the citrus fill your mouth. Dr. Owens isn’t unattractive and they certainly seemed nice. You do your best not to look at the doctor and his partner, keeping your head down as you listen to the other people in your group. 

You know why you feel so bothered by it all. It’s dumb. You only had one actual conversation with him, but it was nice. He was nice- much nicer than you had ever given him credit for. You feel silly over being jealous of a man you only knew for a minute. 

-

"Fuckin' driver," you mutter under your breath, your lips curled in disgust. Fixing yourself, you cross your arms and decide to walk to the train station. It's incredibly late and something that you actively avoid doing, but you don't want to risk yourself with another driver. "Now I gotta walk." 

A part of you pays with the idea of putting in your headphones and at least having a calming walk, but you shake your head at that idea. You will not be murdered just because you wanted to listen to music. 

Headlights flash by and you bite the inside of your mouth every time. A car passes by, and you watch as the red tail lights blink on. You stop in your steps, taking a look around. No one else on the sidewalk acknowledges the car. 

“Okay”, you think to yourself, “I can't get abducted in front of other people.” You take a step forward and pause. “That's dumb. Yes, I can.” You scowl and tap your foot against the pavement, holding tighter onto the strap of your bag. 

However, no one else seems fazed by a car pulling over, and that gives you confidence to walk further. At the end of the car, you see the passenger window roll down. You hesitate again. Sucking in a breath, you roll your wrists, and as you walk past the car until you hear your name being called. 

You turn, and through the windshield, you see a familiar doctor waving at you. Looking around, you clutch onto the trap of your bag before making your way towards him.

"Dr. Ohnn?" 

He smiles nervously. He looks far too tense for someone in their own car. "Hello," he calls you by your name. "I was sure you would have left ages ago."

"Tour ran late- one of the kids explored without permission," you explain. 

"I'm surprised it wasn't you." You weren't aware he could tease. 

"I wasn't in the mood for any trespassing charges. Maybe tomorrow." You shrug, and send him a grin. “Who knows? Night’s still young and all.”

He turns his head, and you follow his gaze out onto the street before the both of you. "Why are you walking?"

“People had their own rides, and I didn't. I took the bus. After the whole fiasco, I missed it. I got into a taxi, but uh-" you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest- "the driver was being too sleazy for my tastes so I decided to take my chances walking.” 

“Oh- I’m sorry to hear about that.” He leans over the middle console of the car, with his hand pressed down on the passenger seat. “It’s quite late,” he tells you.

Your lips stretch into a thin grin. “Correct. It’s no wonder that you’re one of the top scientists at Alchemax.”

“You’re hilarious,” he deadpans.

“I try,” you tell him. The soft glow of the streetlamps casts him in a warm glow. “But I'd be more inclined to believe you if you were actually laughing.”

“Yes, well, I’ll try to laugh next time.” He rolls his eyes, and you smile sharply at him. 

“Is that why you stopped? To hear my humor?” You tease, taking a step forward, and he tilts his head to look at you. 

“No, actually. I thought it was you,  and I wanted to know if you would like a ride?”

You’re taken aback. “Oh! Um- No, it’s okay. I’m okay,” you correct yourself. You turn looking down the street where the crowd of people slows. You look back at him. “I’m sure you have your own plans for the night. I wouldn’t want to intrude or interrupt or anything.” You twist the strap of your bag in your hand. “While I appreciate the offer, you don’t have to worry about me Dr. Ohnn.”

“You wouldn’t be interrupting anything. I don’t have any plans.” 

You stay silent, weighing your options in your head. While you’d like to be in a car and taken to your home, you also can’t just enter his car. Even if he is the one offering. No. You can’t. There has to be a line. You have a crush on him- maybe. You’re attracted to him. Wait, that’s actually worse. You shake your head.

“I shouldn’t.” You bite your bottom lip and look at the air freshener that hangs down the rearview mirror. “I would want to get you into any sorts of trouble.”

“Trouble?” He says in a quiet voice, but alarm is still laced into his words. 

“You know-” you wave your hand in front of you- “with Dr. Owens. Would they be okay with you giving me a ride?”

He gives you an incredulous look. “What does Dr. Owens have to do with this?”

Your chest begins to burn, and it travels upwards to your face. “Would they appreciate you giving a ride to a stranger?” 

“You aren’t a stranger,” the way that he calls your name has your breath hitching, and heart racing. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you walking so far to a station at night.”

“Okay,” you shrug. “But you have to put in the directions on your phone. I’m easily distracted and won’t be able to give you any good directions.”

“Fine by me,” he pulls away and the door unlocks. You open the door, and the window slowly raises. “Between you and I, I’m not entirely great with navigation.” The noise from the outside mutes as you close the door, the lock clicking down on itself.  You click the seatbelt as you give him a look. “I get lost easily,” he admits. He grabs his phone and sorts through his applications, finally passing it your way with the map function on display.

“Don’t you have a PhD?” You enter your address, and return the phone, watching as he places the phone on the holder stuck to the car. 

“Doesn’t mean a thing if a shopping center has me turned all sorts of ways,” he admits, setting the car to ‘drive’ and pulling away from the sidewalk. You laugh, it starts as a snort, and forms into a chuckle and it has you hiding your smile behind your hand, trying to quell the laughter. 

You turn to look at him, the corner of your lips tilting upwards and wrinkling at your eyes. “I don’t even think I could picture you getting lost in a mall.”

He sits up straighter, and casts a glance through the corner of his eye. “It isn’t a particularly good image of me,” he confesses.

Humming, you lean back into the seat, fixing your bag onto your lap, playing with the zipper. “No, I’m sure it is,” you hum. “A renowned scientist, lost at a mall.”

“It can be quite traumatizing.”

“I’m sure it can be,” you muse, trying to hide the smile that slowly grows. "Many children often fear the mall for that same reason." 

He scoffs at your remark. “Did you learn anything interesting on the tour?” He asks, and you cross your ankles.

“I think we learned about atoms?” He chuckles at that, and you feel warm. “I gotta be honest, I was hoping for something a bit more, ya know?” 

“Atoms aren't enough?” 

"Not nearly,” you tell him softly. “Maybe if they brought out some secret project or like showed some sort of light show, then I’d be impressed.”

“Oh, of course,” he says with sarcasm laced into his words. “A secret project shown to the masses, especially where one child had gone missing.”

“Explored,” you correct, turning our head to look at him.

The GPS voice speaks, and he misses a turn. He mumbles an apology, the application already rerouting him. “If you join another one, I’ll make sure that there’s a light show.” He casts a glance, and misses another turn, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. “I’m thirsty,” he tells you.

You blink at him. “You can stop somewhere and get something. I don’t mind waiting in the car.” The metal zipper of your bag shines under the passing streetlamps.. “You’re already doing me a favor by driving me home.”

“The coffee shop is still open. Would you mind accompanying me for a drink?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah- sure. I’d be okay with that. I still owe you that cup of coffee. You know, from when we met at the shop?”

He shakes his head. “Consider it my treat. I am inviting you after all.”

“But you did win that little wager, and you are driving me home. I could at least buy you a cup of coffee or something.” He shakes his head. “Come on-” you slap the back of your hand lightly against his bicep- “don’t make it difficult.”

“I’m not making it difficult,” he frowns.

The GPS continues to tell Dr. Ohnn to make a right when he can, and he fumbles with turning it off, grumbling under his breath until you offer your hand out. The phone is placed down, and you shut down the application. The phone is held in your hand, the application minimizing to show his background- a picture of- the phone is pulled out of your grasp.

“I don’t even get to learn what your background is?” You give a faux pout, leaning back against the seat. “Come on, I didn’t even get a chance.”

“Don’t worry too much about it,” he tells you. “It isn’t all that exciting.” You stick your tongue out at him in response and he fails to suppress a smile. 

Pulling to the side of the road, you place your bag on the floor, snagging your debit card before zipping the bag up. Getting out of the car, you’re careful not to slam the door. You rush to beat him from opening the door. “Okay,” you draw out the vowel, slipping to move in front of him, “how about this. You buy my cup, and I’ll buy yours. I’ll even let you get a pastry- you know as a thank you for driving me home.

“You don’t have to. I offered to drive you home, it was completely my own volition.”

You give an exaggerated sigh. “Whatever you say, but the offer is there.”

As he orders his drink, you press your card against the payment terminal, telling the barista that it’ll be two separate transactions. You can feel his eyes on you and you can only smile, nodding when the barista confirms. Lacking your energy, he pays when you order your own. You’re sure that the barista is annoyed with the two of you, but at this point, you had a win that he was owed. 

With the lack of patrons, the two of you find a table placed beside the window. The two of you sit across from each other, and wait for your drinks to be called. Tapping your hands against the table, you look out the window, watching the people and the cars. 

“I was more than happy paying for your drink,” he comments. 

You look at him through the reflection, and he meets your gaze there. “I know. But you’re already doing me such a favor by taking me home and stuff-” shrugging, you turn to face him- “might as well buy you a drink.”

“You didn’t have to,” he mumbles.

“I wanted to.”

Looking at you, he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it when he can’t find the right words. You nod, letting him take his time and to continue with whatever he is going to say. Clearing his throat, he can only get a breath out when the two of your names are spoken. You turn just in time to see the drinks placed on the counter as the barista walks away.

“I’ll go get them for us.” He stands from the table and you watch him. He takes long strides, his head bent and arms close to himself, as if trying to make himself to the public. You hadn’t realized that he had such squared shoulders. He almost reminds you of a rectangle.

Placing your drink in front of you, he takes a seat. His teeth bite at his bottom lip and he brings the cup to his lips. Placing the drink down, he clears his throat. “Why did you ask about Dr. Owens?”

Ah. Maybe you should’ve kept quiet about that. “What do you mean?”

“You mentioned that I would get in trouble with them if I had driven you home.”

“Oh um, yeah. It’s whatever, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worrying, I’m asking.”

“Okay,” you whisper, your gaze focused on your drink. “They just seemed into you is all. I thought there was something you know-” you lift your head looking at him- “between you and them.”

“You thought they were into me?” You choose to ignore the wonder in his voice. Opting to stay silent, you nod. “I can assure you, Dr. Owens is not into me.”

“It sure seemed that way,” you mumble into the rim of your drink. He stares at you, and you shift in your seat, hiding behind your cup. “What?”

“What made you think they were into me?” 

Your molars grind against each other. The rim of the cup is brought to your lips, but you don’t take a sip, you only press your lips against the opening, before lowering it back to the table. “Oh gosh, are you into them? Look, that's sweet and all, but I’d rather not play matchmaker to some scientists.” He stays silent, and you look outside the window, watching a couple walk past by. “You really wanna know?” He makes a noise of confirmation, and you let out a held breath. “In that little time that I saw the two of you, they had no trouble touching you. And they call you by your name, too.”

“My name?”

Nodding, you twist and untwist your legs. “Yeah.”

“Is that usually an indicator?” 

Lifting your hand, you make a see-saw motion. “Sometimes, I guess. Depends on how it’s used and all. Context, ya know?”

“I call other people by their names,” he counters. You nod, letting him continue. “I call you by your name.”

“Oh yeah- I um, I guess so,” you mumble, taking another sip of your drink, desperate to keep yourself busy.

“You never call me by my name.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was allowed.”

“Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you be allowed?”

“I always thought you found me annoying.”

“I did.” You frown, and he gives you an apologetic smile. His hand lifts up, grabbing at a strand of hair and twirling it around his finger. “That doesn’t mean that I disliked you. I have to admit-” he lets go of the strand and it falls back to place- “I always did find your drive admirable. You weren’t one to give up. You’re quite stubborn.” You stare at each for a few moments, heat blazing itself against your skin, making a chill over your body. He breaks eye contact and tilts the cup, making a circle with the bottom edge. “Do you really believe that Dr. Owens likes me because they call me by my name.” You nod, your mouth too dry despite the drink in your hand to even consider speaking. “Hm, okay,” he hums. His hand runs over his stubble, and you wonder if he’s growing out a beard. “You said that they touch me.”

“I um, saw the two of you in an office- while on the tour.” Your hand pulls up to scratch at your shoulder. You feel the need to hide from him.

His smile stretches even more. “I thought I was losing my marbles.” You take a sip of your drink. “I thought that after all my imagining about-” he clicks the last consonant, and you straighten yourself, leaning forward- “I thought that finally, after all of your incessant questioning, that I was beginning to imagine you.”

“Mhm,” you hum, taking another sip of your very diluted drink.

“You were saying.” He rolls his hand expectantly.

“When you turned around- when you saw me- they immediately turned you back around.”

“So? I believe we were discussing the recent project that we’ve both been assigned on”

Grabbing a napkin, you dab at the table where a ring of water from the condensation has formed on the table. “It was how they touched you. They touched your back and lingered their hand on you.”

“I’m not following.”

You make a noise of discomfort, and fist the wet napkin in your hand. “I can’t explain it in words. It’s- It’s in the details and stuff. The observer's point of view.”

“Can you show me?” 

“Like?”

“Touch me.”

The napkin is clenched tightly in your hand, your nails ripping through the soft paper. Warmth flushes through your body, and you fear that he can notice the change in you. You know that he doesn’t mean it that way, but for him to say something so- so, intimate sounding, without meaning to, made your heart skip a beat. His eyes widen, and he stumbles over his words. “No- Not- Not like that. I hadn’t meant for it- I’m so terribly sorry-”

“It’s fine,” you reassure, waving your hand in front of you. “It’s cool,” you smile at him and he stops his ramble of words. There’s a rapid beat that bruises inside of your chest at his words- even if he did mean them innocently. “But you know, they touched you at the cafeteria too. They went up to you and touched your bicep.” You lift your hand, reaching over the table, letting it hover over his forearm. Glancing at him, he’s watching you, and you close your fist, pulling your hand back to you. 

“And you believe that all of those actions are due to the fact that they like me?”

Shrugging, you suck in your bottom lip. “It’s just my theory,” you whisper, embarrassment laced into your words. “They wanted to eat lunch with you too.”

The two drinks remain untouched and outside, you can hear sirens. His hand lifts up to rub over his mouth, and he has this faraway look in his eyes. “Okay,” he mumbles. 

“Okay?”

“Is there anything else that you want to add?”

You pout. “No.”

In the corner of your eye, you see a worker clean a table with a rag. You watch for a moment, and turn your head when chairs are fixed back into their positions, scraping along the floor. A part of you feels unsure about the conversation. While you wouldn’t believe that the scientist had a crush on you, you had at least humored the idea, but knowing that he isn’t interested in you, makes you want to go home.

You open your mouth to speak, and he beats you to it. “I’m hungry,” he states.

“I told you you could have gotten a pastry,” you point out.

“I want dinner. An actual dinner.” Sitting straight, it’s as if he has a new resolve. “Are you hungry?”

Blinking in surprise, you lift your shoulders. “Oh, uh, yeah. I guess I could eat something.”

“Good,” he nods to himself, and stands up, the chair squeaks against the floor. You follow his eyes, looking up at him as he adjusts the chair and stands by the table. “I’d like for you to accompany me to dinner.” Clearing his throat, his shoulders bunch together, and any confidence that he did have, is slowly evaporating. “That- That is if you want to, of course.”

You scoff with a smile. “Yeah, I’m game with that, Dr. Ohnn.” 

“Jonathan. You can call me Jonathan. I don’t mind it if you call me that.” He twists his hands, interlocking them, and pulling on the back of his palm, his skin stretching thin over his knuckles. 

Straightening yourself, you nod. “Okay. Jonathan it is. The same um, goes to you of course. You can call me by my name.”

“I already do,” and the way that he says your name, softly and tenderly, held with a smile, makes you turn your head and scratch at your neck in a desperate attempt to hide how wide your smile is.

“Mhm,” you squeak out. Standing up, you make sure to push the chair in and grab at the loose napkins and your drink. 

Following behind you, he throws his drink into the trash. This time, he’s made sure that he stands in front of you, stretching his arm out to hold the door open for you. Mumbling, you thank him, standing beside the door as he goes to open the passenger side door.

None of what he’s doing is helping quell your attraction to the scientist.

Clicking his seatbelt, he starts the car, driving away from the coffee shop. “Do you have a preference?”

“On food?” He nods, fumbling with the radio that plays the song of the week. You tap your foot to the beat. “Um, I think I’m good with most stuff. Restaurants are pretty inclusive about diets and stuff most days.”

“There’s a burger place on the way to Alchemax, do you know the one I’m talking about?” 

“With the really good burgers?” 

“Yes. Would you like to go there?” 

“Isn’t that too far?”

“They opened one relatively nearby.”

“Oh okay,  yeah.” You nod. ��I’m game with that.”

“Good. That’s good.”

The drive to the restaurant passes by quickly as you chat about miscellaneous things- the weather, work, different coffee shops. Uncomfortable with silences, you keep the conversation going, jumping from topic to topic, trying to make something stick. However, the driver seems to be content with silence, nodding and giving one-worded answers, only really contributing to the conversation when you give your opinion on something.

Pulling into the restaurant, he takes a glance at you, and you smile in response. He opens his door, and steps out, and you follow close behind. The door is held open for you, you order your own meal, and before you can pat your pockets to find your card, he’s already paying for the meal. You aren’t sure how to feel about the whole situation. You feel good- happy and flustered even- but you can’t kid yourself. It’s dinner. With a scientist who you have pestered for a good while about what exactly is going on within Alchemax. It’s dinner with a guy who you had coffee with- twice. That’s it. 

When he sits in front of you, and smiles, you think you’re about to pass out.

Oh. He’s really cute.

No. Whatever feelings you’re having is a moment of weakness. Maybe you should download a dating app or something. 

Your newfound emotions aren’t settled by the end of the meal where you tell him a story about an old job that you used to work. He’s an avid listener, expressive and laughing when you start to smile uncontrollably. He pushes his tray closer to yours, letting you snag what little left of fries that he has. Even with bags under his eyes, he remains attentive during your story.

“No, and like my supervisor tells me “Well whole milk is regular milk,” and I’m so adamant-” you laugh mid-sentence- “that two percent is regular milk. Or like can be qualified as regular milk.”

“Why were you so adamant about it?” He laughs softly, leaning forward.

“Honestly?” You lean forward, stealing a fry of his and plopping it in your mouth. “I just really hate being wrong. Anyways-” you wave your hand in the air- “we have this whole spiel about milk of all things. And I tell him that I like oat milk and he’s like-” you deepen your voice to portray your supervisor- “‘Oat milk isn’t even milk. How do you even milk an oat?’”

“How do you milk an oat?” He asks with knitted brows.

“I-” you pause and tap at the table. “I always thought you blended it. You know, like peanut butter?”

“Yeah, but people don’t drink peanut butter.”

“I bet you that there is at least one person in the world who does drink peanut butter.”

“Okay, you find me that person and I’ll buy you a coffee next time.”

“Yeah, yeah-” you wave your hand, trying not to let your competitive side leak out. “Anyways, I’m sure they make almond milk the same way. Blended.” You lift a hand and point with your index, swirling it in the air.

“I’m partial to oat,” he admits.

“I gotta be honest, I think all milk tastes the same,” you whisper out the confession, covering the side of your mouth with one hand.

“Oh, now you’re being difficult,” he says with a roll of his eyes, adjusting his glasses by the leg. 

“I’m not, I swear! It just all tastes the same. Doesn’t stop me from asking for it at the coffee shops.”

“Even if it tastes the same?”

“I like feeling fancy,” you lilt, and he laughs.

“So you’re tricking your mind?” 

“Oh totally.” 

“With the fake milks?”

“Real, regular milk,” you counter. “Soy is fake- I think.”

“Oh, soy is fake, but the others aren’t.” He scoffs. “That’s where you draw the line.”

You laugh, taking the final sip of your drink. “Yeah, obviously.”

He joins your laughter, dipping his head down, and stray hairs fall in front of him. When he lifts his head, his smile is wide and open, and he has such a nice laugh- deep and the type that shakes his body. Pride makes your chest swell and heat burn over your cheeks at making him not only smile, but laugh. Fighting back the urge to move away the tray pieces of hair that have fallen, you clench your hand into a fist, your laughter slowly dying down. 

A quiet moment befalls the two of you, and you both look at each other. You rub the bottom of your shoe over the top of the other, and check the time. With a click of your tongue, you gather your trash onto the tray.

“We should probably get going. It’s close to closing time for them,” you explain, nodding your head back to the register where two workers chat.

“Oh, should we?” Despite questioning you, he follows your example and gathers his own trash.

“As someone who used to work customer service jobs, yeah.” Tossing your trash into the designated area, you stack the tray overhead. “I’m pretty sure that the employees probably hate us by now.”

“Good point.” He holds the door open for you, and you follow him back across the mostly empty parking lot. Inside the car, he waits for the engine to heat, and he turns to you. “I apologize for keeping you so late.”

“No, this was,” you hesitate choosing your words, “fun.” You nod your head and pull your bag up onto your lap. “I had a good time.”

“I’m glad that you did,” he says softly, giving you a final look before he gives his attention to the road. 

-

After a long day, you stand in front of your building, Jonathan joining you. You’ve always been much more comfortable with chatter than you have been with silence, but as you stand with him, you don’t feel as uncomfortable. You might even like the silence if it gives you reason to look at him. You stand on the steps leading to your home, finally looking him in the eye, and you hate the fact that he has such soft brown eyes. 

“Thanks for driving me home. And getting me a drink.” You kick at the ground, scuffing up at the dirt that lays in a thin layer. “And paying for dinner.” A jitteriness falls over you, and you can only twist and grip onto the strap of your bag. “Thanks for all of that Dr.-” he gives you a narrowed look and you quickly correct yourself- “Jonathan.”

“You don’t have to add my title,” he tells you. Beside him, his hand twists at the hem of his shirt. 

“Force of habit,” you say shrugging. Clearing your throat, you start. “Still, thanks. This was nice, Jonathan.” You like his name, and you hate the way that it makes you feel.

He nods, and raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Well, thank you for accompanying me to dinner. I had a good time.” He says your name delicately, rolling off his tongue, and you never thought that you would want to hear your name repeated over and over.

“No worries,” you answer breathlessly. You can’t think around him. Everything feels as if it’s too much- too hot, too close, too sweet. 

It was one day- two technically- but it was a short amount of time. You wear your heart on your sleeve despite trying so desperately not to. All it took was one day with him, and you think that you might like him. 

Oh, how you wish he was with someone else, then you could give yourself a reason to look away from him. 

With cotton stuffed into your mouth, you don’t trust yourself any further. You think that you should go inside- that maybe you shouldn’t be taking up his time. A part of you wonders when you’ll see him again. Shifting your weight between each foot, you pat your hands on your thighs, drying off the clammy feeling. You wish he would start talking again. Or maybe you should. If you go inside, then this could all be over. You turn your foot, and wave your hand in a goodbye, when he starts to speak.

“Will you be joining another tour group?” There’s a hint of hope that’s weaved into his words. He’s looking at you, and you wonder if you look pretty.

“As much as I enjoyed it, no.” You think you imagine seeing his shoulders slump at your words. “It wasn’t really for me. It was nice, but much more kid-centered.” His glasses are slipping down his nose and you wonder if he’d get upset if you pushed them up. “Will you be going to the café tomorrow?”

“I work tomorrow,” he admits.

“Oh,” you clear your throat, and fighting away the burning feeling that is burning in your chest, you suck in a deep breath. It makes sense to do this now. You have to take a risk. It’s dumb and highly unprofessional, but you need to tell him something. He has to stick around, just for a moment longer, just so you could get whatever pink and sweet is in you, out. “Would-” he word comes out much softer than you would have liked- “Would you want to exchange numbers, maybe?” You hope he says no.

“Really?” He looks so shocked, and so happy. A grin tilts his lips upwards, and like seeing his smile.

Nodding, you rub the flat of your middle finger against your jawline. “Yeah. It would be a better alternative than meeting during lunch on a tour group or a random chance meeting at the café. Only if you’re okay with it.”

“I’m okay with it,” he says eagerly.

You nod eagerly, unable to fend off your smile. “Cool, cool.” You suck in a deep breath, and wait for a moment, before you start to pat your pockets, pulling out your phone and clicking at the ‘New Contact’ section. Holding the phone to him, he grabs the device and places his information. 

Holding the phone tight in your hands, you tap your fingers against the back of the case. “I’ll message you later?”

“I’ll look forward to it.” He lifts his hand and waves at you. You watch his back as he steps into his car.

You can hardly believe that you even made it inside without dropping your keys from excitement and nerves. Behind your door, you clasp your hand over your mouth, pitifully trying to stop the smile that beams across your features. Oh, this isn’t fair. And oh, you can’t wait to message him.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 28

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, violence, blood, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

The visit from the detective quickly drifts to the back of your mind. You have enough to worry about without dwelling over the unfortunate victim of the break-in. It’s only Cole that reminds you of the strange early morning drop-in as he recounts it to Peter.

It’s just after noon as you set a fresh batch of cookies into the display and Cole wonders about the mystery intruder. Would they come here? Where did they break into? Why? Maybe he should look into a better security system.

Peter is more interested than you are. You continue to transfer the oatmeal raisin, one by one with the tongs, as soft instrumental flows from the new bluetooth speaker Cole installed to add to the atmosphere. It just makes you sleep, you suppose that would drive peoples’ caffeine addiction.

As Peter goes to grab his apron, Cole goes to replace the dark roast filter as a new batch is needed. You stop setting out the cookies to ring through a new customer. The steady flow helps keep you from thinking too much. 

You hand over the medium roast and a muffin and watch the man still yammering to his Airpod leave. You turn back as there’s a sudden clamour and Cole gasps as he tears open a preloaded filter and the grinds explode over him. You really wish he would stick to the back office.

“Oh my,” you grab a tea towel as he coughs, turning to you with coffee all over his face. You can’t help but laugh through your irritation.

“What’s going on?” Peter comes out as he ties his apron. “Oh sh–” he guffaws as he points at Cole, “bruh.”

You tut and shake your head. You take the shredded package from Cole and toss it. You turn back to him and dust the grounds off his face with the towel, letting them fall to the floor.

“Get the broom, Peter,” you say as Cole’s blue eyes fixate on you. He keeps his hands slightly out as he watches you. His gaze bores into you hotly, as if he can’t look away. “Well, I think maybe it’s about time you go back and get some of your own work done,” you reproach.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t… I’m so clumsy,” he smiles, his cheeks rosy as you wipe away more of the coffee, moving down his neck to his collar and sweeping away even more.

“Well, you’re going to smell delicious,” you kid as you use your hand to dust off his shirt.

He steps closer, surprising you. More of the grounds litter onto the floor as Peter shuffles in the storage room. Cole seems to lean in but you’re quickly distracted as the cafe door swings open. You step back and clutch the cloth as you face the new customer.

“I shoulda fucking guessed it,” Lloyd lets the door fall open behind him, “I knew you were lying.”

Shit. You’re speechless as he struts across the room, stopping just on the other side of the counter, “kinda fucking funny you’d lie about working at a cafe but I guess I know why.”

Lloyd glares at Cole who stares back in confusion. “Uh, hello, can we get you something–”

“You can shut your mouth. This a conversation between me and her,” Lloyd shoos him with his fingers, “really, this jag off? You’re over here pushing coffee–”

“Please, just go, we can talk after I’m done–”

“No, no, I want the truth. I wanna know who I got in my home? Is it Mimi or a slut?”

“Woah, hey, hey,” Cole steps closer to you, palms out pleadingly, “hey, guy, calm down. You can’t talk to her like that.”

“And who the fuck are you? Shut the fuck up,” Lloyd snarls.

“Wait, wait,” Cole nudges you slightly behind him, “I know you– you broke my windshield.”

“Huh,” Lloyd scoffs and smirks, “that was you? In hindsight, I shoulda done more.”

“What the…” you mutter.

“Look, you’re going to have to leave if you’re not getting anything. And if you’re going to continue to harass my employee, we won’t serve you. So please, let’s be polite–”

“Polite? Polite?” Lloyd blusters, laughing like a hyena, “I’ll show you fucking polite.”

Lloyd grabs the tip jar before either of you can react. He whips it at Cole, hitting him in the jaw, before launching himself across the counter. You cry out as Cole recoils, thrown off balance as Lloyd latches onto his collar. They hit the espresso machine and grunt, rolling around against the counters and shelves as they struggle with each other.

“Peter!” You shout terrified as you stay back, trying not to get caught up in the entangled men. “Peter, call the police–”

Lloyd grunts as he head snaps back. Cole shakes out his fist as he detaches from the other man, and cocks his arm, setting his feet. He grits his teeth as Lloyd wipes the blood away from his nose and brings his own fists up.

“Wanna fuck around?” Lloyd snarls.

“Lloyd, stop!” You shout.

“I got farmer strength, buddy, don’t make me use it,” Cole warns. It’s a bit lame but you don’t think he could be mean if he tried.

“Woah, woah,” Peter rushes in, getting between them with the broom, pointing the handle at Lloyd, “who the hell is Mr. Caterpillar?”

“Stay out of this, boy,” Lloyd warns as he grabs the broom.

“No, no,” you exclaim and grab the broom, twisting it as you insert yourself between Lloyd and the others. Peter lets go and you jab the handle up, sending Lloyd’s hand into his jaw. He releases the broom as you hold it up defensively. “Leave now. Leave me alone. What I do is none of your business. That’s what you said. So go.”

He huffs and juts his chin out, cradling it as his nostrils flare. He looks behind you at Cole and Peter. His eyes search the room like a wolf searching for prey. He curls his lip and spits blood onto the floor.

“You’re fucking right we’re going to talk later,” he steps closer and you sense both the men behind you do the same, “keep up the hard work, Mimi.”

He enunciates the last two syllables venomously. He turns and grabs the milk frother, shoving it to the ground in a crash. You bring the broom horizontal to stop Peter and Cole as they try to charge him. You shake your head and whisper, stop.

Lloyd shoulders past you and hops back over the counter, his sole slipping on the tile and nearly sending him onto his ass. He growls in frustration and stomps to the door. He stops to look back at you, pointing at Cole then turns his hand to flip him off.

“Just you wait, bud, I got a spare tire iron with your fucking name on it.”

He rips open the door and storms out. You take a breath, shaking as you lower the broom. You hang your head and feel your insides crumple.

“I’m sorry, Cole,” you turn to the men, “and Peter, I’m sorry to you too. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”

“Who was that guy?” Peter asks.

“Don’t be sorry,” Cole undercuts, “you did nothing wrong. That wasn’t… your ex? The cop?”

"With a mustache like that, he definitely reads cop," Peter snorts.

You shake your head. You don’t even know how to explain it. You can barely think.

“Hey, hey,” Cole takes the broom gently from you, “hey, you’re shaking like crazy. Why don’t you sit down?”

Peter looks at the store front then back to you, “I should follow that douche–”

“Please,” you gulp as you let Cole take you by the arm and gently lead you away, “please, I don’t–” your voice cracks, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

You can’t help but repeat the words over and over. Not just for them, but to the man in your head raining down punches on you and the man who just left. You’re sorry for all of it.

[shiorimakibawrites]

Image Credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Greta Punch (Unsplash) / Stephanie Harvey (Unsplash)

A Tale of Two Men (Part 1 of Cozy Corners)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Word Count: 6,595 Summary: One week after you open your cafe, you meet two handsome men - defense attorney Matt Murdock and the vigilante Daredevil. Warning(s): Canon-typical violence, description of anxiety and panic attacks, referenced oral sex (f receiving), referenced p in v sex, referenced masturbation, dirty thoughts, female gaze Cozy Corners Masterlist Shiori's Masterlist A03 link Tag List: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer , @danzer8705 Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

A Tale of Two Men

You couldn’t stop smiling. Owning your own cafe had been the dream of you and your best friend Dora Morales since high school. And now, after years of hard work, it had finally happened. One week ago, you had opened your doors for the first time. You looked around. You and Dora had done everything you could, within the limitations of your lease and budget, to make Cozy Corners to live up to its name. Warm, comfortable, and inviting.

You were especially pleased with the little nook, tucked away from the main bustle of the cafe where people could read and study in relative quiet. You had found some nice chairs in a secondhand store, their brown leather the color of chocolate and butter soft. The little library of reference books and fiction was small but you hoped that over time it would grow. Yes, people were more likely to use the internet to look things up these days but you liked having analog back-ups. Just in case something got broken. Or the city was invaded by aliens. Again.

You found having back-up plans helped calm your nerves, made the anxiety gremlin in your head less loud. You were a big fan of keeping that gremlin quiet. You didn’t like it when the gremlin got loud. It was mean.

Hearing the bell on the front door chime, you looked up to greet your new customer. And immediately felt your stomach fill with butterflies. Because one of the most beautiful men you had ever laid eyes on had just walked into your cafe. Dark brown – no, dark auburn, you could see the glint of red in the sunlight – hair that looked like it would be very enjoyable to run your fingers through, excellent bone structure, and a mouth practically begging to be kissed. Round sunglasses with dark red lenses hide his eyes from view. Which was unfortunate. Especially if they were just as pretty as the rest of him.

The brown suit he worn, by contrast, did very little to disguise how well-built he was. Which was very, if the strain on buttons of his dress shirt was any indication. He moved an enviable grace as he walked toward the counter, his long white cane sweeping in front of him.

“Good morning, sir,” you said. “What can I do for you?”

“Good morning,” he replied. His voice was pretty too, nice and deep. The kind you could easily imagine whispering everything from sweet nothings to dirty promises in your ear. The thought made your cheeks warm and your heart beat at little faster.

His lips twitched into something like a smirk before he asked, “Do you have a menu in braille?”

You sighed, then said, “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” he repeated, tilting his head to one side.

“I have something in braille. The printing service claims that it’s my menu.”

“I take it that you disagree?”

“I don’t sell a cinematic rainbow muffler.”

“What?”

The sheer disbelief and confusion put into that single ‘what’ had you biting your lip to not laugh. You didn’t want him to think you were joking or making fun of him.

“Cinematic rainbow muffler,” you repeated. “Not something we sell here at Cozy Corners.”

His lips twitched. “I don’t think anyone does. What was it supposed to be?”

“Cinnamon raisin muffin.”

His brow furrowed. “That . . . doesn’t even have the same amount of letters. How did they manage get that?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” you said, shaking your head. “The whole thing is like that.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” you said, pulling out the copy you had left under the counter in case you needed a laugh. Which was about the only thing it was good for. You sat it down in front of him. “It’s at your twelve o’clock if you want to see for yourself.”

Mr. Handsome took you up on that offer. While he read – or rather attempted to read since you knew sections were completely unintelligible – you idly wondered if the dark facial hair dusting his face was the start of a beard or if he just didn’t feel like shaving this morning . . . you had the feeling he would look good either way . . .

Case in point, all that look of utter befuddlement like he didn’t whether to laugh or to be irritated by what he was reading did was make him look adorable. You needed to be careful. This guy was dangerously pretty.

“What is 78554.051?” He asked, looking like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“What?”

“It’s listed as one of the drinks. I think. I assume you don’t serve dribbles.”

“No, sir,” you said, thinking. “My best guess is that someone put the number sign where it didn’t belong.”

Mr. Handsome hummed thoughtfully, re-running his fingers over one section of the menu of nonsense. “Green tea.”

“Now that I do have,” you said. “Speaking of which, would you like to order a drink?”

“I don’t know . . . ,” he said with a teasing grin. “Drinking a coffin sounds dangerous.”

“It does,” you agreed, ignoring the continued presence of the butterflies to go along with the banter. “Does coffee sound better?”

“Infinitely.”

You gave him a quick rundown of the coffee options. He ordered a red eye for himself, which always sounded like a lot of caffeine to you but you didn’t know this man’s life. While he didn’t look tired, maybe he had been working a lot of hours lately and needed the extra oomph. Apparently he didn’t think his coworkers needed extra caffeine as they got a cappuccino and a dirty chai.

“What’s the name?” you asked. Mr. Handsome might be the only customer right now but that could change any minute. It was only a little after nine. Plenty of people might still be heading toward school or work, people who might decide to grab a coffee (and maybe some food) on their way.

“Matt.”

“Matt,” you repeated, both to make sure that you had heard him correctly and because you wanted to say it. If for no other reason so you wouldn’t accidentally call him Mr. Handsome outloud. He nodded in confirmation. “Just coffee this morning?”

He made another thoughtful hum. “I probably shouldn’t have just coffee for breakfast. What’s on offer?”

“We have bagels, muffins, croissants, turnovers, doughnuts, frittatas, and breakfast sandwiches.”

“Hmmm, those all sound great,” he said.

“Take your time,” you said, “Think about it while I make your drinks?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You turned to start making the coffee. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him flinch a little when the machine started grinding the beans. Which you couldn’t really blame him for. It wasn’t a nice sound. Easily one of your least favorite. But Dora, who was a coffee aficionado, might actually kill you if you even thought about using anything other than freshly ground coffee for espresso.

She had explained why it mattered. And demonstrated how changing how fine the grind was effected the drink. But that didn’t make the noise any less unpleasant. Which was probably why she hadn’t been able to talk you into freshly grinding your coffee at home. Not yet anyway. You were getting worn down on the issue. Agreeing would at least mean she would stop giving you that look of actual pain everytime she saw your can of already-ground coffee.

Pulling the shot part of the espresso was a lot more pleasant on the ears. With the added bonus of putting out that nice fresh coffee smell. You poured the shot into the waiting to-go cup of the house brew. You knew some places poured the hot coffee into the espresso but Dora thought that method disturbed the crèma too much.

You were pouring in the frothed milk with the chai concentrate into the double-shot of espresso for his coworkers’ dirty chai when Matt spoke again.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did but you can ask another one,” you said, feeling a little bold from his earlier friendliness, as you put the finished drink into the carrier alongside it’s companions.

He chuckled. “Left myself wide open for that one . . . Are you the owner?”

“Co-owner with my best friend, Dora,” you answered, tapping the used grounds into the knock box.

“Dora and who?” Matt asked with a charming smile. You felt your heart sped up. Something about smiling transformed his already handsome face into something breathtakingly beautiful. You had no resistant to something like that. You told him your name.

“That’s a pretty name.”

“And that was a line,” you said. One that you had heard numerous times. Through never from someone this good looking.

“It can be,” he acknowledged before subtly shifting his posture. He hadn’t been slouching before but there had been a relaxed air to the way he carried himself. Now he was standing there, straight-backed and shoulders square, his hands resting on the white cane held upright between his feet like it was some medieval courtiers’ staff of office. He had a presence. One that you suddenly realized had been there all along. It was just front and center now.

When he spoke again, there had also been a subtle shift to his voice. Easy self-assurance had been replaced with rock-solid confidence and conviction. Not thundering like an angry priest, just the calm, even voice of someone who knows they are correct, that the facts were on their side.

“Does that phrase being used as a pick-up line mean that a name cannot be pretty?”

“No,” you said. “A name can still be pretty.”

“Generally speaking, is your name one of the pretty ones?”

“Yes?” you said slowly. Why did you feel like you had just walked into a trap? Maybe it was that little edge of sharpness to his smile? . . . .

“Well, if names can be pretty and your name is one of those pretty names, then you have a pretty name.”

“I suppose,” you conceded. It was hard to argue with that logic. Especially when you didn’t actually want to argue that your name was ugly. You liked your name. And it was nice to hear something about you called pretty. Even if it was just your name.

“A pretty name for a beautiful girl.”

Warmth spread across your cheeks. That smile should be illegal. As for the words . . . he probably didn’t mean them. He was obviously something of a flirt. Regardless . . . it was still nice to hear. Still made your heart flutter.

“And that was absolutely a line,” you said, fidgeting with the ties on your apron. “Flattery is not going get you a free muffin.”

“It’s not flattery if it is true,” he said. Which did nothing to lessen the warmth in your face. “And since muffins are off the table, what about the doughnuts? Or the turnovers?”

You laughed. “Sorry. As much as I would like to give out free coffee and food, unfortunately there are all these places that expect me to pay them with money.”

“Instead of an excellent pie, like a sensible person?”

“Exactly,” you said, once again finding yourself drawn into the banter in spite of your nerves. You knew one thing for certain about Matt – he was definitely charming.

He nodded solemnly, like this was a serious conversation. “I’ve encountered the same problem with my small business.”

“You did?” you said. Then, feeling genuinely curious, you asked him, “What do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“A lawyer who wants to get paid in pie?” you said, feeling a little skeptical. Didn’t lawyers usually work in big offices that paid them big money? Granted your experience with lawyers was largely limited to baby-faced ones who were grabbing coffee for the office or law students who looked like they had forgotten what sleep was . . .

“I like pie,” he said mildly. “But, as you said, since so many people want money instead of pie, my partner insists that’s what we charge for our services.”

“That’s a shame,” you said.

“It is,” Matt agreed solemnly. He leaned forward and lowered his voice, “What to know a secret? If you ever need to bribe Foggy, try bagels. He can resist pie but never a good bagel.”

“Duly noted,” you said. “I assume Foggy is your partner?”

“Yep,” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Nelson & Murdock, Attorneys at Law.”

“Nelson?” you repeated. “Any relation to Nelson’s Meats?”

You expected the answer to be no. This was New York City, after all, not a small town. But, to your surprise, Matt nodded and said, “Yes, it’s his family’s butcher shop. How do you know Nelson’s?”

“We buy the meat for the cafe from them,” you explained as you placed the to-go carrier by the cash register. “Did you ever reach a verdict on breakfast?”

He chuckled. “Jury is still out, I’m afraid. It all smells so good. Can you give me a recommendation?”

Your heart gave another excited flutter at the compliment as you thought about it. Then, with a little hesitation, said, “Maybe bagels? That way, if I need to bribe your partner, he knows what he’s getting out of the deal?”

“Good idea,” Matt said with a smile. “What favors do you have?”

After being given his options, he opted for a plain for himself and an everything for Foggy. After some further consideration an apple turnover for Karen, the third person at his office. He thought the sweetness of the turnover would compliment the spices of her dirty chai better than a bagel.

Soon the rest of his order was bagged up and paid for. Before he left, he tapped the menu of nonsense with his finger. “Can I have a copy of this? Otherwise I’m pretty sure Foggy will think I’m making it up.”

“Go ahead,” you said. “I’ve got other copies.”

He smiled, then tucked the menu into the bag with the food. He feed his arm through the handles of the bag, then picked up the drinks carrier. Considering his left hand was occupied with his cane . . .

“Would you like me to open the door for you?”

“Please.”

On the downside, Cozy Corners wasn’t very big so that particular journey didn’t take very long. But on the upside, you got to watch him walk down the street, discovering that he had a perfect ass. Because of course he did. You sighed. Why was everything about this man so attractive . . .

“I saw that.”

You jumped with a small shriek and whirled around. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen was Dora. How long had she been standing there?

“Saw what?” you demanded, walking back over to the counter.

“So many things,” she said with a knowing grin. “You flirting with Mr. Matthew Murdock, Esquire? Undressing him with your eyes? Checking out his ass? I saw it all.”

Warmth flooded your face. “I wasn’t undressing him with my eyes!”

“Yes, you were,” Dora said with the utter confidence of someone who had known you since you were ten and therefore knew all of your tells.

“Maybe I was,” you muttered as you tidied up the work station. It needed to be done but also gave you an excuse not to see that knowing grin. Which you knew, without even looking, had just gotten bigger.

“And now you are thinking about how loudly he could make you scream.”

“Dora!” You exclaimed, your head whipping around to make sure the cafe was still as empty as it was the last time you looked. It was. “Is this really the time for that? We’re at work!”

“That wasn’t a denial,” she pointed out in a sing-song voice. “I’m betting on very loud.”

“What makes you say that?” you asked, suspicion in your voice. “Did you sleep with him?”

The very thought sparked a little flame of jealousy inside you. Which you hated. You didn’t want feel jealous of your best friend . . .

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “But I know someone who did. She said Murdock loves eating pussy. That he fucked her better with his tongue than any man ever had with their dick.”

“Dora!” You whined. Because now you were thinking about it. Now you were trying to imagine that handsome face buried between your thighs. It was an appealing image. Very appealing. But one you would rather not have when you could do nothing to quench the heat growing between your legs. “Why are you telling me this?!”

“You’ve been under way too much stress lately. Orgasms are wonderful stress relief.”

“Matt Murdock isn’t a requirement for me to have an orgasm,” you said mulishly. You had hands. And a vibrator. Both had served you well in that department. Often better than men had.

“Perhaps not,” she said, nodding in acknowledgment before flashing you a wicked smile. “But that’s who you are going to imagine fucking you senseless while you flick the bean, isn’t it?”

You were spared from having to answer that question by the arrival of new customers.

&&&

You managed to avoid any further conversation about Matt Murdock and what he could do with his tongue. Or other body parts. You put that down to two things. First, there had been a steady stream of customers to keep you both busy. Most had been simply curious about the new business in the neighborhood or tourists needing a quick break. The latter made you a little nostalgic, remembering your first days in the city and how overwhelmed you had felt. But some of the customers were repeats from earlier visits. Something that you hoped would continue.

Second, while you were still working on hiring, you did have some staff. Staff that had come in around lunch time and were there until final clean-up. It was one thing for Dora to speak so frankly about your sex life (or the lack thereof) when it was just the two of you but in front of others? Others who were your employees? Who likely would be very uncomfortable with that conversation? That was an entirely different kettle of fish. Not one that Dora or you had any desire to partake in.

By the time you were locking up the cafe and setting the alarm, Dora had seemingly forgotten all about Matt Murdock and how you had – allegedly – been undressing him with your eyes. It might only be temporary reprieve. Assuming he didn’t hate the coffee and food, Matt would be back. Despite the certainty of teasing from your best friend, you hoped that he came back.

Not because you thought had any chance with him. You weren’t delusional. Men that good-looking didn’t go for people like you . . . but if he was a regular, you could at least look at him. You’d get to talk to him. Though seeing him with girlfriends was going to suck . . .

“Are you sure that you don’t want me and Steve to walk you home?” Dora asked, looking worried.

“Yes,” you said, looking over at your best friend and her steady boyfriend. He had come to pick her up as usual. “I’m in the opposite direction of you guys.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve said. You knew that he didn’t. He made similar offers since he and Dora had started dating. And never complained or acted annoyed when you accepted the offer. But your apartment was much closer to Cozy Corners than their place, which weren’t even in the Kitchen. The only time you had accepted the offer since the cafe opened was the day before and only because you were dropping off the deposit at the bank. Then, carrying your opening week’s worth of cash, you felt like you had needed some extra security. Steve was a very sweet guy but he was also a tall man with large muscles. Not exactly the easy target that most criminals are looking for.

“I’ll be fine,” you said. “It’s not that late and my place isn’t far.”

“Okay,” Dora said. “If you are sure?”

“I am.”

Mollified by your conviction, Steve and Dora left. You watched them go around the corner before heading off yourself. You walked swiftly. Because rain had been predicted tonight and it was starting to get chilly at night. It wasn’t quite cold yet but brisk enough that you needed a jacket and didn’t fancy getting soaked. You couldn’t afford to get sick right now. Your business was too new . . . and Lady Who Sneezes A Lot wasn’t exactly the second impression you wanted to give Matt.

You might have very few hopes of attracting his interest but that didn’t mean you wanted to completely tank what little chance you had . . . You shook your head. You needed to stop the daydreaming. This wasn’t the time for it. Daredevil was back from wherever he had disappeared to but the vigilante only made things safer, not safe . . .

There was no warning. You were walking, almost home. Then you were grabbed from behind. You screamed as you were dragged toward the gap between two buildings. You dropped the sack holding your dinner and tried to struggle, to resist, but your attacker was too strong for you. You were pulled into the shadows and slammed into the side of a building. It knocked the wind of you.

Heart pounding, you desperately tried to suck in air. To get your breath back. You needed to scream again. Scream in the Kitchen and the Devil came. That was the story. That was the hope. But was one scream enough? You didn’t know. So you had to scream. Scream and pray all those stories were true . . .

You started to scream . . . then agony exploded on the left side of your face, transforming that scream into a cry of pain. Everything from your cheek down to your jaw immediately began to throb. It hurt. Worse than the time your sister Alex had accidentally given you a black eye with a softball. The bruising grip on your shoulder that kept you pinned against the wall barely even registered.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” the man ordered in a low hiss. “Make another sound and I’ll slit your throat.”

Tears were blurring your vision but you could see the knife he was brandishing. It wasn’t a small pocket knife. It was a chef’s knife. Like the one you had at home and at the cafe. And it was stained with something. You bit down hard on your bottom lip to stop a terrified whimper. It was too dark for you to tell with what but you feared that it was blood.

Apparently satisfied that you were too frightened to be anything but compliant, the man released your shoulder.

“Purse,” the man demanded. “Watch. Jewelry.”

Trembling, you removed your crossbody bag and held it out. It was taken and slung onto his shoulder. You ignore the watch directive since you weren’t wearing one. It was when you tried to remove your jewelry that things went wrong. The only piece of jewelry that you were wearing, a necklace, had a very delicate chain with a tiny clasp. Your hands were shaking too much for you to get a good grip on the lobster clasp, let alone open it and slip out the ring. The chain wasn’t big enough to pull the whole necklace over your head. Every time, the clasp slipped out of your fingers, your panic grew. Which only made the trembling worse.

It didn’t take long for the mugger to lose patience. His hand darted out and grabbed the necklace. He yanked hard, snapping the chain. More tears filled your eyes. It was bad enough that he was stealing your favorite necklace. Did he have to break it too? Then, to your horror, he raised the knife. You screamed, instinctively throwing up your arms to try to protect yourself. Your eyes squeezed shut, bracing yourself for the pain that you knew was coming.

Except it never came.

What came was a growl, low and furious. It was accompanied by the sound of something flying through the air. You heard a pained yelp and something metal clattering to the ground. You cautiously opened your eyes just in time to see someone put himself between you and the mugger.

Someone dressed entirely in black, save for the thick white ropes tied around his forearms and hands. Someone wearing a mask. Daredevil, you realized with a dizzying sense of relief. It might not be the more distinctive red outfit and its horned helmet but you were sure it was him . . . the stories were true. Scream in Hell’s Kitchen and the Devil will come to save you.

“You made a big mistake,” Daredevil snarled at the mugger, each word dripping with fury and utter contempt. “By not fleeing when you had the chance.”

Then he threw himself at the man.

Your legs turned to liquid. You fell back against the wall and slide down. You didn’t care the street was getting your pants dirty. You had to sit. While your legs were uninterested in supporting your weight, you could pull them up and wrap your arms around them. So you did. It was almost like a hug and you could use one right now.

You couldn’t stop shaking. The sound of breaking bones, meaty thwacks, and a man’s screams were oddly distant. Like you were listening to something through a well instead something happening just a few feet away. Scent, however, was viscerally and intensely present. Acrid car exhaust, rotting garbage, coopery blood, sweet peaches, and sour sweat filled your nose. You gagged, then tried to breathe through your mouth to lessen the nauseating combination. But you couldn’t get your throat to work . . . you couldn’t get enough air . . . your vision darkened . . . . you couldn’t breathe . . .

You weren’t sure which penetrated past the panic first – the hands massaging your shoulders or the deep voice speaking. But once it did, you were suddenly aware of both. You almost couldn’t believe your own eyes and ears. Was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen really kneeling in front of your huddled body? Were those gloved hands gently gripped your shoulders, really the same ones that had just literally beaten a man bloody?

“You’re safe, it’s okay . . .”

The soft, quiet voice was completely at odds with his grim reputation. It also sounded a little familiar but you were too exhausted to try remembering where you had heard it. It had been a long day and panic attacks always took a lot out of you.

You weren’t so tired that you missed that the Devil was a good-looking man. And not just in the face. Those grainy surveillance photos in the newspaper hadn’t conveyed just how tight his clothing was. Which was very tight. His shirt, for example, was practically painted on. You could see his muscles. His many, many muscles. He had clearly hit the muscle store during a clearance sale . . .

The thought made you giggle. It sounded more like a wheeze and more than a little hysterical but still a giggle. But you needed a laugh. You were alive. You had been sure that you were about to die. That you were going to be stabbed to death in a robbery gone bad . . . you started to tremble again, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the weather . . . you could have died . . . your bottom lip quivered . . .

Hands squeezed your shoulders, “Hey, hey, look at me.”

That didn’t sound too hard. Only half of his face was visible but what you could see was mighty fine.

A deep chuckle. “Thanks for the compliment.”

‘Note to self – abject terror followed by panic attack completely dissolves your brain-to-mouth filter. Shut up before you ask if it is actually possible to bounce a quarter off of his abs.’

Another deep chuckle alerted you that you might have also said that outloud. A theory confirmed by his statement, “I’ve never tried. Can you do something for me?”

Warmth filled your cheeks as you nodded. He smiled at you. It was a nice smile. “Follow my lead? Deep breathe in . . .”

You mimicked the inhale, the short hold, then slow release out.

“Good! Now again . . .”

It seemed like forever but eventually you felt calm. Or at least not like you were about to have another panic attack. That was good. Panicking was exhausting. Daredevil seemed to agree with your self-assessment as he had stopped instructing you to take deep breathes. After one more reassuring squeeze, his hands slid off of your shoulders. He sat back on his heels.

“Feeling better now?” he asked, his voice returning to what you assumed was his Daredevil speaking voice – low, deep, with a growling rasp. It was possible he sounded like this all the time. It wasn’t like you had ever meet him outside the mask. Well, as far you knew. You supposed that you could have but how would you know . . .

“Yes,” you said, when you remembered that you had been asked a question. “I’m fine.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not from a certain point of view. You were feeling better now that you were no longer teetering on the edge of a second panic attack in a short space of time. You knew this calm, almost numb, feeling was fragile. It would shatter instantly if pressed too hard. But that was the best you could hope for right now. Feeling any better than this would require things that weren’t here – like your most comfortable clothes and your pets – along with time.

Daredevil frowned, tilting his head slightly to one side. It was hard to interpret the expression on his face since you couldn’t see most of it. But it seemed like he was staring at you (through how he saw anything through that mask was a mystery) as if you were a puzzle he was trying to figure out. Or maybe he was simply skeptical. That was possible. You had seen how you looked after panic attacks. In his shoes, you wouldn’t believe you about being fine either.

“I’m as fine as I’m going to get tonight,” you amended.

That answer, at least, was deemed plausible to him. He nodded, then pulled something about the little pouch attached to his belt. A cellphone. Who was he calling? Since you had no energy for guessing games, you simply asked.

“The police,” he said.

Well that was your cue to get out of here. You couldn’t think of something you would rather deal with less right now. Your usual post-panic attack headache was already growing – no need to kick it into migraine territory with sirens and flashing lights. You shifted onto your knees so you could get to your feet.

“What are you doing?” Daredevil asked.

“Going home.”

“Home? Shouldn’t you be going to the hospital?”

Amazing, he had found something worse than the police. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you said. “I don’t wanna.”

His lips twitched. “You don’t wanna?”

“What are you, a parrot?” you demanded, feeling your temper flare. If you had been less tired or not in pain, that question would have playful. But you were tired and hurting so that question was grouchy. So was the rest of your statement. “Yes, I don’t wanna. No, I don’t care that is whinny. I’ve had a shitty night! I’ll whine if I want to!”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, spitfire. No hospital.”

As the anger drained, you felt a swell of guilt for yelling at him after he just saved your life. This was why you did your best to avoid people when your social batteries were running too low to manage basic human interaction. It seemed like you always ended up biting someone’s head off for no good reason.

“I’m sorry,” you said, shifting back onto your bottom. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead against your knees. You didn’t care that your pants were dirty. You needed to hide. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just too tired to be peopling right now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I understand.”

You cracked up an eye and turned your face to peer at him with that one eye. Again, it was almost impossible to get a read on his expression but he didn’t seem bothered. And vigilante like him probably did know a thing or too about having a temper. Suddenly feeling curious, you asked, “How good does it feel to punch crime in the face?”

A wolfish smirk spread across his face before he answered, “Sometimes very good. Why?”

You shrugged, “Don’t know. Maybe I’m looking for a career change. Punching bad guys sounds more fun than getting punched by bad guys.”

You got the impression he was giving you a very stern look from behind that mask. That mouth pressed together in a thin line was all disapproval. “How about you leave the punching bad guys to me and I’ll leave the baking to you?”

“How did you know I’m a baker?” you asked. Then felt a little stupid for asking. You were still wearing your chef’s jacket and an apron. It was pretty obvious that you worked with food . . .

“You smell like flour, yeast, butter, sugar, and spices which all says baker to me,” he said. “Through you also smell like peaches. The fruit, not the flowers.”

You blinked. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting. You also hadn’t realized that the scent of your peach beauty products were that strong. They smelled pretty light to you. But before you could think of a response to that, Daredevil rose to his feet. Which gave you a nice look at his legs which like his torso and arms was muscles for days barely contained by tight clothes. The black trousers weren’t quite as painted on as the shirt but they were snug enough. The naughtier parts of your mind wondered what it would be like to ride him, feeling those powerful thighs under you as he thrust up . . .

“Spitfire?”

Embarrassed warmth flood your face. While you were distracted, Daredevil had held out his hands and obviously asked if you wanted help standing. More than once if that amused smirk was any indication. You put your hands into his before you could embarrass yourself any further. A goal immediately challenged by watching the muscles in his arms flex as he helped pull you up onto your feet without a hint of strain. Because damn if that wasn’t hot . . .

Thankfully this time you managed not to become so distracted by the sexy vigilante that you just stood like there drooling like an idiot. You slide your hands out of his and then, to prevent yourself from staring at all those muscles (again), started looking for your crossbody bag. You hoped that the mugger had dropped it during the fight with Daredevil. Because as much as you wanted and needed your things back, you also would rather not get any closer to that man than you had to.

It didn’t matter that mugger was (probably) unconscious and (very probably) too beaten up to be a threat anymore. Not to anxiety brain. Anxiety brain was seldom appeased by such frivolities as fact and logic. So when you spied the large, still shape on the ground, your heart started racing again.

“Don’t worry about him.”

You looked over at Daredevil. He wasn’t even looking in the same direction that you were but still seemed to know what you were looking at. Almost like he read your mind . . . could he read your minds? God, you hoped not . . .

“I promise he’s not going anywhere soon,” Daredevil continued, his earlier rage coloring his voice a little. Part of you wanted to know what the mugger had done to make him so angry but most of you decided that you were better off not knowing. Your brain did not need help coming up with nightmares.

Feeling reassured by Daredevil’s confidence (and the knowledge that he was still between you and the mugger), you looked for your bag again . . . there it was. It was closer than you expected. You started to move closer but your foot encountered something. Something metal judging by the sound against the concrete. You looked, hoping it wasn’t the knife.

It wasn’t . . . too small . . . you knelt down and discovered your necklace. You picked it up, glad that you wouldn’t have to try to find something so small in such poor lighting or run the risk of it being gone by morning. Which it probably would have been. Aside from the broken chain, you hoped the rest of it was undamaged. You ran your thumb across the surface . . . it didn’t feel like any of stones had gotten chipped or cracked . . . the engraving could still be read . . .

“What are you doing?”

You jumped a little at the voice before remembering Daredevil. You were surprised he was still here. Weren’t there other damsels in distress he needed to be rescuing?

“Not at the moment.”

Either you were still saying things outloud without realizing it or Daredevil could absolutely read minds. You decided to believe the former because the latter was too mortifying to contemplate.

“Checking my favorite necklace,” you said as you darted forward and grabbed your bag. “Doesn’t feel like anything but the chain got broken.”

He nodded. “Ice those bruises when you get home – ten minutes on, twenty off. And try to keep your head elevated. After two days, you can use a heat compress.”

“Ice and prop up tonight, heat in a couple days,” you repeated. At his confirming nod, you asked, “Are you a doctor or something?”

“Just familiar with bruises” he said. “Trust me, spitfire, the bad guys often hit back when you’re punching them.”

You nodded, then realized that any further delay was just stalling. But as much as part of you wanted to keep talking – how often did you get a chance to talk to one of the city’s heroes? – the rest of you was still tired, still feeling jittery-numb from the panic attacks, and still hurting. And you had work tomorrow. It was time to call it a night.

“I guess this is good night,” you said, taking one last look at the vigilante. Odds were, the only time you’d see him again was in the newspaper.

“Good night, spitfire,” Daredevil said. Maybe it was projection but his smile looked a little sad. Like he also knew this was probably the first and only time you would ever see each other.

You paused when you reached the street to pick up your bag of food. It was probably a mess but you were definitely weren’t going to cook when you got home. As you walked away, you faintly heard the low rumble of Daredevil’s voice, presumably talking to the police on that phone.

Notes:

A Tale of Two Men is a reference to A Tale of Two Cities, an 1859 novel by Charles Dickens. I’m thinking about making all of the titles for this series reference book titles.

It occurred to me recently that my Reader characters in the series all are some level of anxious. Probably because I have anxiety and that colors how I perceive the world. Hence the Reader with anxiety.

The alien invasion is a reference to the events of Avengers I. Fair warning that some of the larger events of the MCU will not be depicted same as they were in canon. Accept that this is an alternate universe and move on.

I know Charlie Cox has brown hair but in some lighting for Matt Murdock, his hair does have reddish tint . . . and Matt in the comics is (generally speaking) a redhead so I’ve compromised by making Matt Murdock have dark auburn hair, the kind that looks brown unless the light hits it right and brings out the red.

Reader is sighted but knows how to read braille. The story behind this will be revealed later.

This knowledge is only reason Reader considers the misprinted menu of nonsense to be funny. She would have not find it funny if she found out about the misspellings and such after handing it to customers.

From my understanding, using the hands of a clock is the best way to tell a blind person where something is relative to their position. The menu of nonsense was right in front of Matt so at his 12 o’clock. Directly behind would have been his 6 o’clock, etc.

In braille, the symbols for numbers 1 – 9 and the letters A – I are the same along with J and 0. The number sign is written before tells you those symbols are meant to be read as numbers instead of letters. So 123 instead of ABC. If I have the information right, a second number sign is used to indict the end of the numbers and return to letters.

But all of my knowledge of braille is self-taught so don’t take my words as gospel here.

A red eye is a 12 oz (340 g) cup of drip coffee topped with a single or double shot of espresso.

A cappuccino is a coffee drink with a double shot of espresso topped with a very frothy milk. It is slightly stronger than a latte because it has less milk.

A dirty chai latte is a coffee drink with a double shot of espresso, then a chai concentrate is poured into the milk which is frothed. Finally the milk and espresso are combined.

Crèma is a dense layer of foam that forms the top of an espresso shot and is a unique characteristic to the brewing method (forcing very hot water under pressure through finely ground compacted coffee).

At least in this fic, Matt Murdock is a proud member of The Pie Appreciation Society. The Society ranks include its long serving president Dean Winchester.

How much a lawyer makes a year depends on where they work and what kind of law they practice. People who work in public sector offices like a public defender or a state prosecutor generally make a comfortable living but they are never going to get wealthy doing that job. There are some lawyers who charge six figures or more per billable hour but those seem to be litigators and they aren’t as common as the associates who charge something less crazy (through probably still an eye-watering amount of money to some).

It’s Nelson & Murdock because (1) this takes place not too longer after the 3rd Season so they are still working out of the back of Nelson’s Meats and (2) New York law prohibits the formation of the Law Firm of Nelson, Murdock, and Page unless all three are attorneys. So if Karen wants her name on the sign, she has a law degree to earn and a bar exam to pass. Which she just might do in this universe.

The white cane is held in one’s dominant hand. I picked the left hand for Matt as another nod to his comic book counterpart who is (again usually) left-handed.

Esquire is an honorific title that is only used in the United States for lawyers for . . . reasons. No one seems to know why.

‘Flick the bean’ is a euphemism for female masturbation.

A chef's knife is a knife about 8 inches (20 cm) long used for chopping, slicing, and dicing meat and vegetables. Unless you have something like a meat cleaver, it is probably the biggest knife in your kitchen.

The favorite necklace is part of some story elements so this is not a generic favorite necklace but a specific favorite necklace. But if you want to mentally change the specific elements of its later description to better suit yourself, go right ahead.

A lobster clasp is the one that looks a like a lobster claw.

Matt is in the Black Suit since he has yet to replace the Red Suit – the old one being too damaged by the Midland Circle and only other one in existence was worn by the impostor who murdered people. A version of the Red Suit will eventually appear (since as hot as the black suit is, the guy without a healing factor needs body armor) but I’m still working out how.

The description of the panic attack (shortness of breath, sensory overload, etc) along with its aftereffects (exhaustion, mood swings, etc) are based on my experiences.

Spitfire is nickname for someone with a temper, possibly referencing the WW2 plane.

The treatment for bruises comes from internet so grains of salt are advised.

A chef's jacket is a double-breasted jacket with mandarin collar commonly worn by chefs and bakers, traditionally made from thick, white cotton cloth but can be made in different colors these days. The thickness of the jacket is meant to help protect the chef or baker from heat, steam, and splashing liquids in a busy kitchen. Frequently the jacket has long sleeves to help protect arms while reaching into the ovens.

[vodika-vibes]

A Loving Man pt III

Summary: Crosshair's brothers finally arrive to pick up Omega.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 2211

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: The Third, and final, part to A Loving Man. Crosshair gets a happy ending because he deserves it.

Part 1 Part 2

You wake early, to the sound of Crosshair’s alarm going off on his side of the room. He grumbles and turns the alarm off, before he rolls over and buries his face in the back of your neck, his arms snug around your waist.

“Good morning,” You mumble.

“Morning,” He sweeps your hair off the back of your neck and presses a light kiss. “Do you have a busy day today?” Crosshair asks.

You turn in his arms and smile up at his handsome face, “Not terribly. A few house visits, but nothing too difficult. I should be done around lunch time today.” You reach out and brush your fingers against his cheek, and then tuck some of his hair out of his eyes. Crosshair leans into your touch and you smile gently, “How about you?”

“Half day. Omega wants to see what I do,” He rolls his eyes, “Assuming she hasn’t changed her mind, I’ll take her for the day.”

“She adores you.” You say lightly.

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste.”

You lightly tug on some of his hair, “I adore you.”

A small grin crosses his face, “Well,” He murmurs, “There’s no accounting for taste.” Crosshair repeats.

Your jaw drops, and he laughs before he catches your lips in a deep kiss. You sigh into the kiss and press closer to him, enjoying the feel of him against you. You feel Crosshair’s hand, feather light, against your hip, and then dipping under the shirt you sleep in.

His hand drifts higher and higher, and then he stops when there’s a knock on the door. “Um…Crosshair?” Omega calls from the hallway, “Can I have a muffin for breakfast?”

Crosshair sighs silently and bumps his forehead against yours, and you smile sympathetically, “Yeah, Meg. You can even have two muffins if you want.” You call, a small smile on your lips, “But if you give me a couple of minutes, I’ll make bacon and eggs, how’s that sound?”

“Oh, really? I’d like that!”

Crosshair shoots you a look, “Really?”

“She’s too thin. Just like you were,” You grumble.

Crosshair grins and kisses you quickly, “Hey, Omega. Have you showered this morning?”

“Uhm…no…not yet.”

“Do that. And make sure you wear the jumpsuit we bought you, assuming you still want to come to work with me today.”

“I do! I’ll go get ready.”

You listen to the sound of Omega running off, and then you smile up at Crosshair, “Well, you need to get ready for the day. And I need to make breakfast.”

Crosshair grumbles something, but he kisses you quickly, and then rolls out of bed, heading towards the fresher. And you laugh, and roll out of bed yourself, taking the time to pull on your loose lounge pants, before stepping into the hallway and into the kitchen.

Omega joins you first, looking very cute in her pale blue jumpsuit, and with a matching headband to keep her blonde hair out of her eyes. Crosshair joins the pair of you not long after that, his hair pulled into a knot at the back of his head and wearing an identical, though much darker, jumpsuit.

You beam at Crosshair and hand him a cup of caf. “Would you like a proper breakfast this morning, Cross?” You ask.

“No thanks. Just a muffin is fine for me.” He replies as he pulls a muffin out of the basket behind you.

You nod, and make Omaga’s plate for her. The younger girl has a mug of tea in front of her, and she’s already demolished her two muffins. As soon as you set her plate in front of her, Omega digs in, after she liberally covers her eggs in various seasonings.

You kiss Crosshair’s cheek and step around him to go and get ready for the day as well. You shower quickly, and then pull your hair into a low tail at the base of your head, you’ll put it in a knot if you should have to, and then you pull on the cheerful scrubs that indicate that you’re working with kids that day, and then you join your family back in the kitchen.

Crosshair already has his workboots on, and he’s waiting for Omega to pull her new boots on. He hands you your own shoes, and then presses a kiss to your temple.

“And…done!” Omega hopes to her feet, “I’m ready!”

“Jacket.” Crosshair orders, and Omega blinks before she turns and runs down the hall to her room. He then turns his attention to you and he grabs your jacket off the wall and holds it out to help you into it, “You look beautiful, cyare.”

“I’m literally wearing scrubs that are covered in Tooka’s wearing top hats.” You say with a laugh, “And scrubs are designed to be anything but appealing.” You turn to allow him to help you into your jacket, and then turn to face him again.

Crosshair’s smile is soft, “Still beautiful.”

Your smile is just as soft and you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, “You’re a sap.”

“I’ve been called worse.” He murmurs, and then he glances over your head, “Meg! We’re going to be late!”

“I can’t find my jacket!” She shouts from the bedroom, before she pokes her head back into the hall, “I think I left it in the speeder.”

You frown and glance at the weather notification near the door, “It’s not so cold that she can’t manage the short distance between the house and the speeder.” You murmur.

“Yeah. Come on, Meg. If it’s not in the speeder you just won’t go outside for long,” Crosshair says as Omega runs over to him, “Into the speeder, it’s unlocked.”

“Can I sit in the front seat?” Omega asks as she heads out the house, with you on her heels and Crosshair last in line.

“Can you see over the dash?”

“Uhm…”

“Then no.”

“Please? I’ll wear my seatbelt.”

“You’re going to wear it anyway, so no, Meg. Get in the speeder.” Crosshair says with a roll of his eyes. The girl huffs and runs to Crosshair’s speeder and climbs into the back, “That girl is a pain and a half.”

“Really, she reminds me of you.” You tease, “You at your most annoying.”

“I suppose you would know,” Crosshair kisses you quickly, “I’ll see you this afternoon. Love you.”

“Love you more.” You reply with a fond smile, and then you wave towards Omega, and head to your own speeder, taking a moment to check the back to make sure everything you need is there. You hear Crosshair start his speeder and leave, but your mind is already focused on your patients for the day.

************

Several long hours later, after running home to change out of your scrubs and into something a little more comfortable, you head to the store to buy some additional groceries for the rest of the week.

Though you pause when you see something strange near the front of the store.

Strange in the sense that most visitors don’t bother coming to the grocery store when they first arrive on planet. And strange in the sense that the men are clearly Crosshair’s brothers.

It would have been nice if they had called to say that they were on the way. You huff out a slightly annoyed breath and do some quick math. How much food are you going to need to keep them all fed.

Oh well, you’re a doctor, you make plenty of money. It’ll be fine.

So you walk over to the group, “Excuse me,” You smile kindly as you approach them, “You’re Crosshair’s brothers, aren’t you?”

Four pairs of identical eyes turn to stare at you, and then the largest beams at you, “Oh, you’re Crosshair’s girl!”

“That’s me.” You nod once and introduce yourself properly, “Omega is going to be thrilled to see you.”

“She’s in a world of trouble,” Hunter says with a sigh, “I hate to ask, but the ship she stole-”

“Is still being fumigated.” You say lightly, “A bit overkill, but better safe than sorry in this case.” You glance at your comm, “I have to do some shopping, will you boys be joining us for dinner?”

“We would hate to put you out,” Tech replies.

“It’s not a problem. I just need to know how much you all eat.” Your gaze flickers across them, like Omega, like Crosshair, they’re all too thin. Especially Echo. You open your notebook on your comm and start typing rapidly, while shooting glares at Echo’s torso.

“Uh…Doc? Is everything alright?” Echo asks warily.

“No. You’re too thin. You’re all too thin. Even Omega was too thin.” You bitch under your breath, “I’ll need to buy some more nutrient powder to make smoothies…at least Crosshair doesn’t need them anymore.” You step around them, “Follow me, please.”

And, like obediently little Ducklings, the four men fall into line behind her. 

You consider grabbing a cart, and then decide to give each man a hand basket. Might as well make them useful.

One very long shopping trip later (you end up sending Wrecker to get an actual cart when you realize just how much food you need to buy), you manage to get yourself, and them, back to your house, before Crosshair and Omega return home.

It’s about an hour later when the side door opens, “I’m home!” Cross calls, “Meg is off playing with some of the neighborhood kids. I told her to stay out of the water.”

Crosshair steps into the house proper and pauses when he sees his brothers sitting around the living room and kitchen, all of them with smoothies in hand. “Babe, did you find some strays?”

You peek at him from the kitchen, “They followed me home from the store, and look at how thin they are!” And then you vanish back into the kitchen.

“I was thinner,” Crosshair replies with a grin.

You pop back out of the kitchen and point at him with a carrot, “It is not a competition, Crosshair. Carrots or Sweet potatoes?”

“Hm…sweet potatoes.”

“I agree. The carrots are kind of sad looking today. I’ll use them in smoothies.” And then you vanish back into the kitchen. “Where did you say Meg was playing?”

“I’m pretty sure she joined a herd of kids going frog catching,” Crosshair replies as he leans against the doorframe looking into the kitchen, “Not sure why she wants to catch frogs, but that’s what she’s doing. Her jumpsuit will keep her clean and dry enough.”

“Fair enough,” You glance at him and gesture to his brothers with a vague wave of your hand, and he makes a face. You set the veggies on the counter and walk over to him, reaching up and cupping his face, “Cross,” You say lovingly.

“Yeah?”

“You smell like motor oil.”

He bursts out laughing, and sweeps you into a tight hug, pulling a squeal from you, “I’m also covered in sweat.” He teases.

“Gross! Go shower!”

“So cruel. So heartless. My beloved, my one and only, won’t even give me a single kiss-” Crosshair says dramatically.

“Oh honestly,” You roll your eyes and press a quick kiss to the corner of his lips, “You’re so dramatic sometimes.”

“What? Me? No, you must be thinking of someone else.” Crosshair says with a grin.

“Get out of my kitchen, heathen!” You say as you push him back into the living room, “Talk to each other!” And then you’re back in the kitchen, preparing food.

“You seem happy,” Tech says, “She seems good for you.”

“I am happy. And she is.” Crosshair replies with a shrug, and then he smiles, “She’s great. The best.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that before,” Hunter says quietly, “I’m glad you’re happy, Cross. Really.”

“Yeah, well…” Crosshair runs his hand over his hair, “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out before now. It’s only recently that I’ve been in a place where I thought I could.”

“That you reached out at all was kind of a surprise,” Echo says quietly.

“I’ve been in therapy. A…a lot of therapy. Turns out I needed it. Doc is great. He pushes when he needs to push, and holds back when I can’t handle it.” Crosshair sighs, “I owe you an apology, more than just an apology.”

“You owe us nothing.” Hunter says decisively, “Least of all an apology. We all said things that maybe we shouldn’t have.”

“We’re still brothers,” Wrecker says, “We’re still family. And sometimes family says things that they don’t mean.” He smiles awkwardly, “We’ve been in therapy too.”

“Oh. That’s…that’s good.” Crosshair sits on one of the chairs, and the conversation becomes light and friendly.

And in the kitchen, a small grin crosses your face.

You knew that this would go well, you had a good feeling about it, and you’re relieved that it did.

Your grin grows, if Crosshair’s brothers should want to stay here, rather than returning to where they have been living, you’ll help them find places to live and jobs. 

And if Cross should want to leave to go with them…well, you can set up shop just about anywhere in the galaxy, it doesn’t have to be here.

[wolven91]

The Anarchist Baker

Ross sighed dramatically as he looked around at his robbed bakery, his hands on his hips and a resigned smile across his face. A chair or two had been overturned, but it was the counter that had received the brunt of the attention. Nothing was broken however, and the door was still on its hinges, so he had that going for him. Which was nice.

As the man walked towards the counter, he reached down to pick up an empty muffin wrapper between two fingers that had been left on the ground. The crumbs tumbled out of it, but aside from that; crumbs everywhere, nothing edible remained. He moved around to behind the counter and gently tugged at the old-style cash register drawer. It didn't budge.

Still secure. There was nothing inside it, but not everyone knew that. The 'thieves' had gone for the baked goods, just like last time.

The human gave a nod and fired up the ovens.

A few hours later his tasks in the kitchen were done with foodstuffs on their way to being delicious. Using a mental checklist, Ross just had to return the front area back to having some semblance of tidy and he'd be ready for customers. The glass cupboards were all open and the shelves were bare with only the lace doilies that usually were found beneath his confections remaining.

Walking through the archway from the kitchen to the counter, he found a ursidain already sweeping the floor with his oversized broom. He recognised the brown fur and missing ear section instantly.

"Ah, you don't have to do that Mary." Ross pointed out with a smile, already picking up a smaller hand brush to clean out the counter cupboards of leftover crumbs. 'Mary' wasn't the ursidain's name, but Ross couldn't pronounce her name correctly, so it became Mary as it was close to how the first half of her name sounded. She'd never corrected him and had never said it bothered her.

"Nonsense, I knew it was too early, but you know how I can't sleep in." She replied with a large grin as she got at the edge of the counter with the bristles.

It was true, the great big brown bear-like alien was usually his first customer, often chatting with him while he set up. He liked her company; it distracted him from his usual jobs and meant he was left alone by the rougher occupants of the station. Mary had her own rumours that stalked her, but she didn't care about them and had merely ignored Ross when he had asked about them.

The station that he had opened his bakery on was not a popular destination due to the ugly poisoned planet below its orbit, which meant that whilst most ursidain were pleasant to be around, there were some that weren't as friendly. Especially not in this backwater section of ursidain space. Still, it meant Ross could hide from pirates and was given leave to follow his dream of a bakery.

"They 'robbed' you again?" Mary asked, smiling down at him as she rested her chin on the top of the handle. The ursidain stared at him with a warm hearty but knowing smile.

Ross tried to resist the urge to smirk back and turned away. Rattling the dustpan into the bin. He tried to speak calmly, to not give anything away.

"Yeah, I think I forgot to lock the door again. All the food that I was going to have to throw away this morning... Well... it's all been eaten." He gave his resigned smile again and a shrug back at Mary, although he never met her eyes. "I'd forget my head if it wasn't screwed on.!"

Mary grabbed the broom and lent it against a far wall in a corner where it usually lived before plodding over to the counter with rumbling ursidain footsteps where Ross was finishing up and reading the trays for the confectioneries once they were done in the next few minutes. She leant against the counter and rested her huge head in one of her dinner plate sized paw as she watched him closely. She squinted at him.

He flicked his eyes to her's then back to his work. The rumours might say she had never cracked under law enforcement pressure, but Ross wasn't that skilled.

"What?" He asked, 'innocently'.

"You're good people Ross." Mary declared.

"Not a clue what you're on about."

He retreated into the kitchen, but Mary could still see and talk to him through the serving hatch. He was doing busy work, avoiding her and the implications of his third 'robbery'.

"Those kids get food from the station, but your stuff is the best thing they're going to get and put some weight on them too." She pointed out. Seemingly knowing that it was the crowd of kids that had done the robbing of his store.

Ross didn't reply as he brought the hot freshly baked goods out to the front between two oven mitt clad hands. The ursidain's mouth began to water at the smell of hot sugar.

"I don't have a clue what you're on about." He assured her, as he gingerly popped the new items onto the shelves.

The orphans that inhabited the station weren't bad kids, they were just left without much guidance. Sure, at first, they might have graffitied Ross's shop, but the one time that happened, the following day a gang of short alien teddy bears turned up, asked Ross for a bucket with water and soap and proceeded to scrub the paint off his shop front. He'd 'paid' them in sandwiches.

The fact that each time he had a surplus of baked goods his door ended up unlocked, meaning that the following morning, his shop was 'robbed'. As such, he couldn't be accused of giving food away nor selling out of date products either. The rather heavy-handed law enforcement of the station had made that clear to him.

He wasn't allowed to give food away. The rules of the station were designed to funnel the hungry to certain 'careers'. A hungry young ursidain would agree to anything, but one that survived until they reached the right age could do whatever they wanted.

So, Ross became an anarchist baker. And Mary had started showing up shortly afterwards. It felt as if she was checking up on the smaller human, his size could leave him vulnerable to intimidation and yet he'd received no visits from anyone untoward. Any time someone serious showed up, Mary had appeared next to the counter and whilst it was always for a fresh cup of something hot, Mary had always eyed the newcomer until they either sat down or left.

Ross glanced at Mary as he finished up loading up his shelves. He wasn't sure if he could see her being one of the 'dangerous' ones, but with her being so huge, he at least wouldn't deliberately get on her wrong side. She was currently eyeing either him or his pastries hungrily. At least he wasn't a pastry.

Still, if it kept the kids out of trouble and our of being exploited, the human didn't mind baking more than what was needed.

[pinkwright]

everybody knows that i want ur love | shuri udaku.

ƸӜƷ

pairing — panther!shuri x partygirl!y/n

trope — bestfriends 2 lovers

inspo — oh my love by fka twigs

warnings — fingering, spanking (reader receiving), slight choking, shuri's hands, possessive!shuri, panther!shuri, bratty reader, dom!shuri, handsy!shuri, shuri's a little mean, petty!reader, sub!reader, dacryphilia, dirty talk, possession kink (?) idfk, humiliation kink, slighttt voyeurism, needy!reader, jealous!shuri, i feel like this friendship group lowks gives poly vibes but truly reader just loves her friends n they love her okayyy.

request by @vai27 {can i please request a dom!shuri fic, smut a friend to lover with shuri and reader where they’re super attracted to each other and always flirting but never act on the sexual tension. until one day shuri is upset about something and she warns the reader to behave and the reader teases her by asking what “are you going to do about it, spank me?” and shuri actually does, lots of smut maybe even some chocking}

a/n — hope u enjoy ! <3 i didn't write this yall, i'm classy.

⟢˚ @mbakuetshurisprincess @inmyheadimobsessed @letitias-fav @barkbarkbo @shurismainbxtch @verachii @rxcently @shuriszn @lppriceisright @heartsforjojo

ஜ

i could be with anyone, i’m fussy like pussy cat. you’re the only one i want. give love and then you take it back, won’t the kisses all be fun?

the smooth hazelnut drink glides out of your cup, and you let out a satisfied hum at the sweet taste, your lashes fluttering before you sweep your eyes over the bustling coffee shop. her powerful aura makes it hard to miss her, a light smile dancing on her lips as you make your way towards her, and she stands from the booth to greet you.

she reaches for your coffee and your bagged muffin setting the two on the table behind her before she’s settling her arms around your waist, sliding them across your skin to firmly place her hands onto your lower back, pressing you against her. she hums as her lips ghost over your cheekbones then down your neck as she breathes you in.

“late as always, s’thandwa.”

the words are murmured into your skin, her voice cheeky and low as she barely pulls away, her hands dragging up the skin of your waist until they’re sliding along your arms to grab your hands, which she lifts to her face, her dark eyes intently holding yours as she brushes her pillowy lips across your knuckles, and there’s a smirk threatening to break across her face when the action makes your mouth part.

“you smell divine.”

then she’s stepping back, pulling your joined hands from her face as she guides you into the booth where she was sitting, urging you to sit by the window, and then she sits right next to you, her arm placing itself over your shoulder, her hand fiddling with your soft locs. you blink, turning your head to look at her from under her arm, and her eyes are already on you causing a bashful smile to adorn your lips as you part your mouth to thank her.

“five minutes and thirty seconds, that’s a new low, y/n.”

your head snaps across the table, your gaze catching riri’s before sliding beside her to catch monet’s, their eyes are twinkling in mischief and you slightly pull away from shuri, ignoring her groan of protest as the heat crawls up your cheeks. you roll your eyes at the two girls before you’re biting out, “i was literally about to greet you, impatient ass niggas.”

your voice is light and teasing, knowing that your sight was tunnel-visioned on shuri from the moment you spotted her, the two girls let out noises of indignation and the smile grows on your face at being in the presence of the people you love. the conversation is flowing nicely, filled with laughter, and flying topics, shuri’s head drops to your neck as she moves her arm from around your shoulders to wrap around your waist, pulling you so close to her that you are almost in her lap.

the two girls are unphased, having witnessed the plausible sexual tension between both of their friends an infinite number of times, and you feel yourself melting into shuri’s firm grip. the warmth from her hands is seeping into your skin as she draws circles on your exposed waist, and a light laugh leaves your lips, fluttering along monet’s disbelieving cackle as you set down your empty coffee cup.

you lift your gaze to hers, smirking, before smoothing your hands over your skirt, seeing shuri reach for your unopened muffin from the corner of your eye, before monet speaks between her giggles, “he said that to you? he couldn’t have been serious.”

you laugh again before deadpanning at the girl, “the audacity of men is always that serious, mo.”

shuri snorts beside you, breaking off a piece of the warm baked good and popping it in her mouth, your eyes fixed on the clench of her jaw as she chews, feeling the heat lick at your skin as you stare.

“uyaphambana [he's audacious]. he should’ve known not to try anything with you.”

you raise your eyebrow at her, the heat between your legs burning at the dark and cocky tone coating the arguably possessive words, “what do you even mean by that?”

when shuri’s gaze slowly cuts to yours, she’s lifting a piece of the chocolate treat to your lips, your mouth dropping open on its own, and her fingers brush against your lips when she deposits the treat into your awaiting mouth. her eyes are intense, and her grip tightens on your waist as she watches you chew slowly.

there’s ringing in your ears and the only thing on your mind is shuri; how her dark eyes take in your face, how her hand is firmly kneading your skin, her long fingers digging into your softness as she mumbles the words to you.

“swallow for me, baby.”

you do as you’re told, her free hand coming to rest on your thigh before it slides up and down the skin there, lightly tapping your knee to urge you to unclench your legs, her long fingers falling between your legs and settling high there. when someone clears their throat aggressively, you’re flinching in humiliation, turning to see riri and monet looking visibly irritated.

“might as well fuck in front of us too.” riri mumbles under her breath, sending you into a coughing spree as your breath catches at her words.

shuri squeezes you, her hand lifting to rub your back as she chuckles, quickly retorting about how the two girls would ‘enjoy the show too much’. and monet quickly teases back, murmuring in agreement, slyly commenting about how ‘hot you and y/n look together already’, gasping theatrically about how she wouldn’t be able to handle it.

you splutter in utter embarrassment, your cheeks hot as all three of them laugh at you, they loved to see you get embarrassed because it was so easy to get you there. your eyes roll as a smile teases your lips, threatening to break your annoyed façade, before you clear your throat, “shut the fuck up, are we still on for tonight?”

they let out hums of agreement as you check your phone, 17:53, and you’re picking up your trash as you hug everyone goodbye letting them know that you’re going to get ready.

shuri follows you out but when she makes a move to walk you home, you protest heavily, your hand lifting to lightly push against her stomach, the tense of her abs makes you pause before you look up at her.

“stop, babe. in case you forgot, your apartment is that way and i am fully capable of getting back on my own.”

she hesitates before reluctantly agreeing, you laugh and spin to walk away, feeling her eyes follow your figure as you walk. when your door shuts behind you and you catch the giddy smile on your face in the mirror, one you must’ve showcased the entire walk back, it’s like a slap in the face.

you and shuri dance around each other like potential lovers but you know that would never happen, you wish you could chop it up to your own insecurities but truly it was because shuri never fails to draw a line between the two of you when things get too risky, too intimate.

honestly, it was tiring and a little hurtful, the push and pull between you, especially given how much you loved her – you wanted her so badly, absolutely ached to have her as your girlfriend and everyone seemed to know but her.

you sigh out loud, frustrated, you drop your tense shoulders and make your way to your wardrobe; you were going to dress absolutely wicked, get absolutely wasted, and possibly, but very unlikely, end up under someone tonight and completely forget about shuri udaku.

⤠

the sweat was shining on your body, your skin glittering under the lights as you danced with monet and the feeling is freeing, the music flowing through you like it was a part of you, guiding you in the crowd but you’re in your own world, unaware of the number of eyes on you.

the figure that steps behind you is ignored by you too, their body shifting to match the rhythm of your already moving waist, and unbeknownst to you, riri, sitting next to shuri at the bar, spares the wakandan queen a nervous glance. even she knew that your actions were intentional, aiming to provoke shuri, somehow. she didn't know whether to commend you for your bravery or cuss you (and shuri) out for the obtuse display of stupidity.

shuri feels like she’s in a trance as her gaze sweeps over your moving figure, the smile on your lips so fucking devastating that it makes her mind viciously buzz with static, her eyes darkening as they settle on the material on your hips steadily rising with your every movement.

and she can feel the panther inside her simmering under her skin, she was livid. she downs her whiskey before setting it roughly on the kitchen counter forcing herself to calm down, you weren’t hers.

but seeing you so familiar with some stranger when you had hardly even acknowledged her tonight made her feel wrong as if something was missing, it had her feeling on edge in a way she hasn’t in a very long time. she doesn’t even realise how long she’s been silently seething until she’s hearing you, hearing your pretty voice travel through her, gliding into her senses accompanied by your sweet scent.

“why are you just sitting here, ri? it’s not like we’re at a party or anything.”

you grab riri’s hands, moving to stand in front of the small girl who rolls her eyes at your sarcasm before snarkily responding, and it makes you snort. monet moves to sit in the seat next to riri, opposite to the side shuri sat on, dropping her head to rest in the ri's neck. you fiddle with the girl’s rings nervously, actively trying to ignore the certain presence near you.

but when you see movement out of the corner of your eye, you stiffen slightly, having been overtly aware of her attention on you since you had walked over to the pair, quickly forcing yourself to resist acknowledging her – despite her burning, and alluring gaze being fixed on you the entirety of the night.

riri and monet are staring at you amusingly, your actions were obvious to them, and it made you glare at them before clearing your throat, subtly stepping away from riri’s seated figure to try to slide yourself between her and monet, further away from shuri.

and that made the panther snap.

before you can blink, shuri is standing, her hand wrapping around your wrist as she tugs you against her frame, your breath stutters as she stands with your back pressed against her chest and slides her hands to wrap around your body.

her hand interlaces over yours, coming to rest over your stomach while the other is placing itself on the dip of your hip, her thumb pressing into the flesh of your upper ass, and she’s leaning her head down to your ear, her breath making you shiver.

“walk.”

the command is accompanied by a firm press of her hand, one that makes your thighs clench tightly, and one that wasn’t needed because your body is moving before she can even exhale. the crowd gently parts for the both of you, everyone seems to sense the tension rolling off the dangerously powerful woman behind you, sparing a nosy glance before going back to enjoying their night out.

once shuri’s got you in a seemingly abandoned hallway in the furthest corner of the huge house the party was being hosted in, she’s swiftly pressing you into the wall, her hands on either side of your head as she leans down to glare into your eyes, your figure shrinking at the intensity in them.

“you’re pissing me off, baby.”

her voice is even, and low, so low, it makes you wonder what she’d sound like getting lost in devouring you, and god, she sounded so hot, the heat in your stomach flickering wildly. the music sounded far away, and it makes you realise just how far off from the centre of the party you both were, and that makes you clench in anticipation.

your mouth parts at her words, your eyes narrowing in disbelief, you were pissing her off? you can feel a different heat lick at your throat, one of impulse, of defiance. and shuri sees it coming before it happens, your chin raising ever so slightly as your eyebrow lifts in a challenge, but she’s too shocked to intercept you, “i do what i want, panther.”

the words were spat from your mouth carrying a heavy sneer and the use of her title provokes shuri. a heavy heat spiking under her skin and she can feel herself vibrating with the need to claim you, fuck you into knowing exactly what she was to you, what you were to her, to them.

she wraps her hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to provoke a sharp gasp out of you, tilting your jaw as she pulls your face so close to her own that you can feel her heavy breaths on your lips, feel the tremble in her body as she practices self-control, “you better fucking behave, y/n.”

her tone rings warning bells in your head but you want her to break the line, to unapologetically snap herself into ravaging you, so your voice is teasing when you speak, “or else what? what are you going to do if i don’t? spank me?”

suddenly, you’re facing the wall, shuri’s manhandling you like she owned you, her chest roughly pressing against your back before her hand is rearing back and slapping the skin of your ass, and the loud moan you let out is of shock, your pussy clenching at the impact. there's silence as she pauses, your breathing heavy and you're so wet.

her hand is simply rubbing over the muscle, but when you slightly arch, presenting yourself to her. she’s letting out a strained grunt, before repeating her previous actions, once then twice, and on the third, you let out a desperate whimper trying to push back into her hits, her hands on you feeling like the redemption you didn't know you needed, but she’s pinning you to the wall with her other hand.

“be fucking good.”

her voice is rough, and gravelly as she continues spanking you, her big hands soothing the skin after every hit despite her harsh tone. you’re a whimpering, desperate mess and it makes shuri ache, you were everything she needed. the thought makes her last slap heavier, itching to hear a break within your pretty sounds and she does – the heavy gasp you let out breaking sinfully around its pitch, trailing off into a wet whimper, and it’s music to her ears.

her hand circles your stinging cheek, massaging the soft muscle as she drops her nose to your neck, your scent invading her senses as she runs it along your neck, smirking slightly at the goosebumps she leaves in her trail. shuri slides her hand down to the hem of your skirt, pausing for a breath or two, to feel you squirm before slipping her fingers between your legs, groaning when she feels the wetness along your inner thighs.

you feel her other hand press on your lower back, lightly pressing you into an arch before she moves it to rest along the hem of your skirt, your cheek pressing into the coolness of the wall as you feel her hand leave your thighs. your heart beats rapidly in your chest and you can feel the pulsing beats travelling through the heavy pump of your veins before settling, painfully in the heat between your legs.

and then she’s sliding your skirt up your thighs achingly slow, and you clench your thighs tightly when you remember just where you two were, a whimper escaping your lips as you squirm, your knees rubbing together as you realise just how exposed you were, anyone could walk passed and just see you.

“you embarrassed, baby?” her words are taunting and they make your eyes shut tightly, your back arching more into her before you whimper, her words print themselves into your psyche, lull you into a blanket of safety that only she could wrap you in, “you don’t want them to hear you give yourself to me? see you dripping onto the floor like my bratty little slut?”

“please, please, shuri, i’ll be so good, please just touch me.”

your words are broken, coming out in incoherent, needy jumbles that make shuri hum as she fixes your skirt on your hips, the material bunching around your waist and it makes you so vulnerable, so available to prying eyes, and the thought makes you drip. everyone would know, know who you belonged to if they were to set their eyes on the scene and the notion makes your hips buck in her grip, hearing the amused chuckle she breathes into the tense air.

"such a desperate, needy girl hm."

when shuri leans against you once again, her head is dropping to your neck before her hand slides down your ass to brush against your soaked panties, you jolt as she groans, rubbing her fingers in slow circles over your underwear, and your clit is pulsing under her attention. your head nods frantically as the sounds slip out of your lips, her hands finally touching you feeling like too much but too little at the same time, she was overwhelming you and she knew it.

“tell me you’re mine, princess.”

the words make you arch your back further, craving more from her, “i’m yours, i’m yours, only yours, shuri.” your voice is pleading, your hips circle to match her movements and shuri can smell the desperation off you and the sadistic side of her thrives in it, “mhmm, that’s right, s’thandwa.”

her hand momentarily leaves you to harshly slide your panties down your legs, and even when your instincts tell you to hide, you know you can’t, the material is sitting around your ankles, kissing your heels. shuri brings the hand that’s around your waist up to your jaw, shifting your gaze to connect with hers to watch your mouth drop open as she presses tight circles around your clenching entrance.

"keep those pretty eyes on me when i'm touching you, angel."

her eyes study the way your eyebrows scrunch, the way your chest heaves as she slips a finger into your warm walls, her own pussy clenching at how divine you felt. the breaths you’re heaving out are almost painful against your ribs, the drag of shuri’s fingers in you making the ball in your stomach expand painfully like she’s dragging you to your release.

“you gonna come for me, baby?” your head is nodding frantically, your mouth open as you gasp repeatedly, feeling so, so close, “you think you deserve it? you were so mean to me earlier, angel.” she’s cooing. her voice is taunting, tainted with a sweet, wicked venom as her fingers start to slow to a stop and you could sob with how desperate you were. the protests that fall from your lips are quickly silenced with the sharp look shuri sends you, the sheer dominance rolling off of her making your pussy clench tightly around her fingers, aching to keep her in there.

shuri grunts when she feels the welcoming clenches of your walls around her fingers, and she’s unable to resist the urge to give you one last harsh thrust that has you moaning out before withdrawing from you completely, turning your figure to face her. a smirk slides over her lips when she sees how open you are to her, to her touch and it quells the possessive fire inside her; you were hers.

slowly, she brings her hands to wrap around the ends of your long locs, lightly pulling them to make you look up at her before her eyes flicker between both of yours, bast, she was in love with you. you looked ruined, ruined by and for her, your lashes clinging together, your chest heaving and she leans down to breathe you in, her teeth sinking into the pillow of your lips, wishing to see them swell and bruise under the attention.

and her hand is back in your aching cunt, your wetness dripping down her arm makes her smirk at you and your hips are rocking against her fingers, your eyes never leaving hers as you moan unabashedly into her mouth, “my dirty little angel. let them hear you when you come for your love, yeah?” and you shake violently at how she refers to herself, your legs attempting to close around her arm, and she laughs at you.

your nails are digging into her forearms to ground yourself, your head so cloudy with the pleasure she was giving you that you don’t realise just how much your hips were needily thrusting against her hand, shuri watches you lose yourself in her and she can hear the predator purr in response, leaning down to lay several pecks on your unresponsive pretty lips.

“that’s it, baby. rock on me until you’re all pretty and hazy for me, giving me all that come because that’s all you’re good for, my love.”

her coos are low and whispered into you, lulling you like a siren call as her words call your release forward, your legs trying to shut around her strong arm as you weep, but she simply tuts, continuing her harsh thrusts in your sloppy heat, speaking praises into your open mouth, her gaze hungrily trailing over the hot tears that streamed down your cheeks, your eyes clenched as your vision blanked.

shuri drops her head to your neck, the warm kisses trailing along your skin bringing you back to her, your eyes blinking up at her as she pulls away to kiss on your face, coaxing a giggle out of you while she slides your skirt back down to cover you. her body is relaxed as she drops down to slip your underwear from your legs, sliding them into her pocket as she gently, lovingly kisses your knee.

you whine pathetically as you look down at her, “come kiss me.”

shuri's eyes roll as she stands to your height, her eyes narrowing at you and the pout adorning your puffy lips as a smile pulls at her own, “still so fucking bratty.”

she slides her hand to cradle the back of your head pulling you gently towards her, pausing as your breath hitches before her soft lips slide over yours. her emotions are spilling into the kiss and so are yours, you can taste the unsaid words, the restraint, the need, you can feel her love as she wordlessly presses it into you, and it makes overwhelmed tears spring from your shut eyes.

your hand blindly grasps for hers before weaving your fingers together, and shuri finds herself drawing a line to wrap around the both of you instead of redrawing the one keeping you from her.

oh, my love. it’s been a long road. but you never, never said if you’re letting me go, for sure. if you won’t let me go, then you gotta try, hold me close.

ஜ

[muffinsin]

Hey Muffin, I hope you're keeping yourself hydrated. Water is important for the mind and the body. You should be drinking at least 8 fl oz (roughly a cup) per hour, depending on the activity.

So now that's out of the way, how would the sisters react to their s/o accidently cutting themselves(i.e., chopping vegetables or a paperclip) and instead of getting a bandaid, they nonchalantly press the cut to the sister's face?

If it was in the beginning of the relationship, I think they would be so overwhelmed with love that their s/o trusts them to not suck them dry.

-Concerned Hydro Anon

Imma turn this into a meme picture/reaction/HC kinda ask because why not👀🙌 And yes, keeping hydrated :) I trust you are too?

Let’s get into it!

Masterlists

Bela

She jumps up immediately when she hears you hiss

Upon smelling blood, she swarms to your side in an instant

Her eyes widen at the view of your index fingertip, bloodied, and the knife in your hand that has caused it

Why were you trying to cut up snacks in her room anyway? That’s the staff’s job, in the kitchen!

Nonetheless, she begins to worry immediately

“Are you okay, my lo-“

A squeak is pulled from her and her eyes are wide when you present your finger to her

And more than that

You push it right against her lips

She’s as if frozen in place, her cheeks immediately adapting a crimson colour, her golden eyes wide and bright

Bela doesn’t even realise her tongue is darting out to instinctively lick the blood away

She stands frozen in place, until you pull your finger away again

She blinks when you kiss her warm cheek

“There we go, all better”, you hum, a wide smile on your lips at her flustered expresssion

Cassandra

She snickers when she hears your “ow!”, her attention fully on her sickle

When the scent of your blood reaches her nostrils, however, she sees red

Her golden eyes widen and the sickle previously held in her hands falls to the table as she turns to you

Your palm sports a cut, not all that deep, yet enough to make you spill warm, crimson blood

Her mouth waters at the mere sight, yet she ignores it

“What on earth happened?! Are you okay?!”

You’re her precious human! You’re her little la-

Cassandra’s eyes open wide and shine bright as, suddenly, you clasp your hand over her mouth

She hums at the taste of your blood, her eyes closing and a moan pulled from her lips

She’s standing almost entirely still, yet you feel her lips smudged against your palm and her tongue lapping up your blood all too eagerly

You feel her suck your skin, and feel the vibrations caused when she hums contentedly

When you pull your hand away, she whines. You smirk at the blush that immediately follows and covers her normally pale cheeks

Cassandra gasps when you move forwards and she feels your lips against hers, surprisingly strong despite the blood that sticks to her mouth

“Thank you, my darling”

Daniela

She grins to herself at the sound of shattering glass down the corridor

She is looking forward to taunting a maid for it..

Yet..it’s you she finds instead. On the floor, cussing quietly at the mess you’ve created

She giggles, and finds it quite hilarious, until the sweet, sweet scent of your blood reaches her

She inhales subtly, as though to make sure

Yes, there is no denying it

“You’re bleeding!”, she yelps, her eyes widening as she falls to her knees on the floor with you

When you turn your hand, the both of you see it. The thin, red line caused by the dropped glass bowl’s shard

She immediately sweeps away the remaining shards, her eyes wide and flickering across your skin

When you see her reach for one of the rags next to you, you act quicker

And your sweet reward?

Daniela’s surprised squeak when you push the finger right between her lips

She sucks instinctively for a moment, and just when you believe she will pull away, the does the opposite

You smile as she giggles, her hands coming up to hold yours as she licks the blood away like a greedy kitten lapping at milk

“Mhmmm thank you, my love!”

[eastleighsblog]

Multiplayer game

This is a story I commissioned from the amazing goldenhoney-cas if you would like to commission a story please go to them they do an amazing job , they keep you up to date and are exteremly resonable with their prices , there are three chapters of this story of you would like me to post the second and third parts let me know

Warnings: Smut, dubcon, somnophilia, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), threesome, pervy skz, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating, (light) exhibitionism/voyeurism, minor oral fixation, dom/sub dynamics, implied panty kink, begging, multiple orgasms, a single edging, some degredation and praise

Studying wasn’t your favorite pastime, and it certainly wasn���t your favorite way to spend your mornings. But it was just past ten in the morning, and you were cozied up in your favorite cafe, a warm drink in your hand and your notes spread across the table closest to the door (makes for an easy escape when you finally finish, after all). Your laptop screen threatened to go dark the longer you stared at it without moving a muscle, but that wasn’t enough to bring you to type anything.

Studying even when you’d rather be doing anything else was part of your plan to make this year of university better than the previous ones. Which was in turn the first step in your big, looming plan to get your life all sorted out the way that you wanted it to be. So you sucked it up, and took a drink of your coffee, and sighed as it warmed you from the inside out.

You flipped the page of your book, glancing up passively each time that the door to the cafe swung open and made the little bell up above it jingle gently. Studying was always rough, but it was a little easier when you had something to look forward to. So you had come here, bought yourself a drink, and promised yourself one of the absolutely delectable cinnamon sugar muffins that you loved so much once you were all finished with your assignments.

The air outside was crisp and cool, blowing in with each new customer, and you’d taken to spreading your hands over your papers so the sweeping gusts of air wouldn’t take your work with it. But as the door opened again, your reflexes weren’t quite quick enough. The loose papers on your table scattered, fluttering to the floor like the first fall of snow that was looming just around the corner. You cursed, and not as quietly as you probably should have. That of course drew the attention of the two men who had walked in, and an older couple sitting nearby. You flashed the couple an apologetic smile, but the woman laughed, clearly not too bothered by it.

“Sorry,” A nervous chuckle caught your attention, drawing it back to the situation at hand. You stood up to gather your papers, but one of the men had already gathered them and was offering them back to you. He smiled, and your heart did a nervous little flip-flop in your chest.

“No, no, it’s not your fault. I wasn’t paying attention to the door,” You took the papers from him, carefully putting them back in order and sliding the now neat stack into your folder. “Thank you for your help, you really didn’t need to do that.”

He shook his head, and there was that smile again. He was too pretty for his own good, and yours too actually because you were pretty sure that there was an incriminating blush climbing up your neck.

“It’s not a problem. I’m Chan by the way. That’s Minho.” He introduced himself, then motioned towards the friend that had come in with him. He was stunning too, a little bit taller than Chan, with chocolate brown hair that framed his face just right. You smiled at him, and he raised a hand in greeting, his lips curving every so slightly into an enticing, barely-there smile.

“I’m Eastleigh. Nice to meet you guys.” You turned back to the homework you’d been staring at mindlessly. You hadn’t made too terribly much progress, but your brain was beginning to go numb, and with two handsome men in the building you weren’t sure how committed your focus would really be. You closed your laptop. “How about I buy your drinks? To repay you for being so sweet and saving me from complete humiliation.”

They both insisted it wasn’t necessary, but you refused to back down, half wanting to show that their kindness was truly appreciated, and half just wanting to spend a few more moments with them. And with a bit of pushing and a little pout on your lips, they eventually gave in and let you buy their coffees. Minho, however, did manage to pay for the pastries they got.

“Do you mind if we sit with you for a little bit?” Chan asked. You hesitated, but it was damn near impossible to turn down such an offer. So you nodded, returning to your seat to clear space for them while they waited for their drinks.

When they came back, they both settled so they were facing you, looking at you like they were trying to memorize you. It was exhilarating honestly, having two unreasonably attractive men look at you that way. Minho sipped his coffee, iced despite the chill setting in at this time of year.

“So, what’s all that work you were doing? University?” Chan asked, leaning forward, eager to learn more about you. You were grateful for his friendly demeanor to break through whatever nerves were settling inside of you. You loved meeting new people and making friends, but you were a bit rusty at it at this point. You nodded.

“Yeah, I go to school near here,” You told them. They both made little noises of recognition, and you had to laugh at how impressed they seemed. “Are you guys in school?”

Minho shook his head as you brought your drink to your lips. He watched you sip the warm liquid, waiting for them to continue.

“No, we work together. We’re, ah, we’re musicians.” Chan said, trying to piece his words together as smoothly as he could without giving their identities away right off the bat. “We didn’t go to university. But your dedication is amazing. I didn’t even study this much in highschool.”

You tried not to fluster at the compliment, quickly waving him off.

“I haven’t always been this dedicated to my education. That’s why I’m studying so hard now. I want to do better than I had before and make the most of my time studying abroad.” You admitted.

The conversation flowed easily like that between the three of you. Chan talked the most, eagerly taking the lead with excited, curious questions that you answered without hesitation. Minho would pipe up now and then, never intruding too deep past what was acceptable first meeting conversation topics. He seemed more the introverted type, but he watched you intensely like he was trying to get to know you without having to speak. It made you shift almost restlessly in your seat as a warmth thrummed through you.

After nearly an hour, your homework was long forgotten, and you’d all finished your drinks as you built a couple of new friendships.

“We should leave soon,.” Minho said, tapping Chan gently to take his attention back from you. Chan looked almost startled at remembering that they’d have to leave at some point. You smiled at how precious his disappointment was.

“You should come hang out with us. We can watch movies at our place or something. You can meet our friends, they’re great.” Chan said, clearly hopeful. You laughed, rubbing your arm. With a grin like his and a silent glimmer of hope behind Minho’s eyes, it was impossible to not want to go. When you didn’t answer fast enough, Minho spoke in your defense.

“I’m sure she has lots of work to do. We don’t want to be a distraction if you need to focus.” He said. You considered his words. You really did have a decent amount of work to do, but you were already not doing it, and you couldn’t imagine you’d be doing too much more serious thinking for the rest of the day. What would a day off hurt? You sighed, brushing your hair behind your ear as you weighed the options.

To be fair, following two strange men to their house wasn’t exactly the sort of thing that your parents would approve of. However, they had been nothing but sweet, and you were studying abroad for the sake of widening your world view, to experience more of those once in a lifetime moments. How could you turn one down when it was right in front of you?

“I think I can hang out for a little while. I’ve already been studying for a few hours,” You said, watching the two of them share a look, Chan’s complete with a victorious grin that made you giggle.

“Can one of you go get me a cinnamon sugar muffin?” You asked, placing your money on the table in front of you and moving to put all of your things back into your bag. Minho agreed, standing up and walking to the counter, your money left on the table. You tried to protest, but Chan shook his head.

“Let him go, he’s not great at showing people how he feels, this is sort of his thing. Take it as a compliment.” He said. You hesitantly put your money back into your waller, silently reminding yourself that you’d have to pay him back when you got the opportunity.

Once you were all sufficiently wrapped up, and all of your things were collected, you followed the boys out into the cold, huddling closer to the two of them for the sake of sharing warmth.

“So you two live together?” You asked. Minho nodded quietly, still holding the small paper bag with your muffin in it.

“Yeah, not just us though. There’s a few other people who live there, too.” He explained. “They probably won’t be home when we get there, though. Is that okay?”

You nodded. You were always down to meet new people, and if they were friends with Chan and Minho, surely they couldn’t be so bad.

The dorm was pretty much what you’d expect from a handful of young men living together. It was messy as if they all had a hundred things going on at once, but not necessarily dirty. There were two couches in the sitting area, and an arm chair as well, sort of out of place as if it had been put there as an afterthought. Off to the side there was a doorway into a small kitchen that you figured could fit probably three or four people at a time. You assumed the doors down the hallway were their respective bedrooms.

“Make yourself at home. Do you want water or something?” Chan asked, putting his keys on the little table by the door and heading for the kitchen. You sat down on one of the couches and agreed to his offer. Before you knew it, Chan was coming back with a bottle of water for each of you. He sat himself down on the opposite end of the couch.

“So you’re not from Korea, right? How long have you been here?” He asked as you cracked open your bottle and took a drink.

“I came here in the middle of the summer I think? So about four months now.” You explained. Chan nodded. If he was honest, he knew that he didn’t have the purest thoughts in bringing you here, and neither did Minho if the way he was eating you alive with his eyes was anything to go off of, but it was genuinely so easy to just listen to you talk. The last thing he wanted was to cut that short.

“And you’ll be here for the entire year?” Minho asked, picking up the conversation when Chan got too absorbed in his thoughts to ask the question. You nodded, shifting a little bit as Chan took up more space on the couch, stretching enough enough that his thigh brushed against yours ever so slightly. You shifted, subconsciously chasing the warmth that his body radiated.

“Yeah, I might stay longer than that actually. I really love it here, but I have a while to decide before I finish school.” You shrugged. “I’d at least wanna go visit my friends and family back home, bring some more of my things over during the summer after I graduate.”

Chan nodded understandingly, explaining that he and one of their other friends were from Australia, about how it was hard to go long stretches without visiting their home and their families.

“Are you seeing anyone? Here or back home?” Minho asked, looking up from his phone. You shifted again, sitting a little straighter and accidentally scooting yourself closer to where Chan was stretched out. You laughed a little bit nervously.

“Oh, um, no. I’m not dating anyone. I actually don’t really have much experience in that department.” You were a bit hesitant to let on that you hadn’t dated much in your young life. You’d never had too much interest in it, always content just to spend your time with your friends or your family, or with your nose in a book. And by the time that you did want to date, you were much more focused on growing your education. And now, with your plans for the future still up in the air, and no roots planted in Korea or in your home country, you weren’t looking to rush head first into anything new.

“Really? That’s surprising,” Chan admitted, taking a swig from his water. You watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, trying not to blush at the quick, filthy thought that flashed through your mind. You weren’t usually the type, but they really were very attractive and you were only human after all.

“Why is that?” You asked.

“Well, you’re just really pretty. And smart. Guys like that,” His words were followed by a nervous laugh, sweeter than honey. A smile tugged at your lips. “I just figured that you’d have guys falling at your feet.”

He made a vague gesture with his hands, and you could swear that he was getting flustered. You tried not to read into it. Chan and Minho were both charming, and exceedingly handsome, and you really didn’t want to toot your own horn by thinking that you could pull either of them. Or even worse, assume that was the reason that they were spending their day with you.

“What about you two? Are you seeing anyone?” You turned the question back on them, and they shared a look.

“No, not really. Minho has a hookup going though.” Chan teased, tossing his now empty bottle at his friend who gave him an incredulous look. “But dating doesn’t usually fit into our schedules.”

“You’re busy a lot then?” You asked. They nodded.

“We’re, uh, we’re kpop idols. Performers, you know? So we have a lot going on most of the time.” Minho explained carefully, almost sounding as if he were nervous for what your reaction would be. You just nodded, letting out an impressed hum.

“That’s really cool. You all must be really dedicated to your music, then. Like I am with school.” You said. They both seemed to let out a breath of relief at how casually you took their confessions. That at least gave them home that you weren��t some crazed fan trying to get close to them.

Your conversations drew on, a couple more hours passing before the sound of the door unlocking made you realize how long you’d been hanging around. You looked over the back of the couch at the door as it swung open. A couple of rambunctious boys spilled into the room, the first was lean, his chestnut hair falling over his forehead as he practically bounced on the balls of his feet. The other had blonde hair, half hanging off of the first and laughing brightly, matching his energy without even trying. Behind them was another dark haired boy, and a taller one with long hair tied back from his face. The two of them were hanging back to avoid getting caught up in the wild energy just ahead of them.

“Welcome back,” Chan called, his tone teasing at the way that none of them had noticed their guest. Their conversation fell quiet when they noticed you, and the blonde smiled. You smiled back.

“Hey, I’m Felix!” He said, the depth of his voice catching you a little off guard. You gave him a small nod in greeting.

“I’m Eastleigh.”

The other energetic boy introduced himself, seeming much less bouncy than he had moments ago, now a little more reserved. Jisung. The way he sat himself next to Minho made you wonder if he was the hookup Chan had referred to, half slinging himself over the man, Minho easily accommodating the closeness. Felix took a seat on the other end of the couch from him.

The next boy was Seungmin, who Chan had offhandedly mentioned wasn’t always as quick to warm up to new people as the others, and it was clear in the way that he didn’t have much to say before excusing himself to take a shower. You made a mental note to try to befriend him later on. And finally was Hyunjin, who was friendly enough for a first encounter. The way he stared at you, however, was a bit off putting, especially when you couldn’t tell for sure if it was curiosity or distrust. More than likely a side effect of working in the spotlight. You couldn’t imagine that they had the best experiences with random girls being around them.

Those of you still in the sitting room chatted for a while, nothing in depth. Jisung excitedly told a story about the trip they’d taken to the arcade, and some scene they’d watched while waiting to play a game. Something about relationship drama that you’d honestly thought had gotten left back in highschool. Even so, it was amusing to watch the way he told the story. His eyes lit up, and his arms waved wildly as he spoke, just barely missing his friends as he did so. Felix easily muted his hand-talking by laying halfway on top of him.

This was something you’d missed recently, a friend group to just relax with and spend your free time around. Ever since entering college, your friend group had been small, even more so once you decided to study abroad, leaving your friends back home. You hoped that maybe this could be a nice replacement for the time being.

Once Jisung had finished his story, Minho put his phone aside. “Where are Changbin and Jeongin?”

You could practically see Minho starting to come out of his shell now, and as he did, the cold exterior he’d begun with started to melt away. He was smiling more, goofing off with his friends. It was cute, actually. All of it was; how close they all were, and the way they were so comfortable being themselves around each other. Not to mention the way that they welcomed you with open arms.

“Changbin hyung wanted to go to the gym. Innie went with him. Didn’t want to slack between schedules,” Seungmin said, scoffing lightly. You laughed. You fell in easily with them, the same way you had with Chan and Minho. The conversations drew on, topped off with takeout once the other two came back home and were introduced. You let yourself relax around the boys in a way you never had before.

You’d left after dark that evening, having spent most of your day there. You’d learned that they’d just finished a promotion schedule, that they’d have more time on their hands than they had for a while. You’d also learned that they were planning a sleepover to celebrate. Movies, games, snacks. One that you were invited to without hesitation.

You spent the next week visiting them during every moment that you weren’t in class, even when you were just laying on the couch or one of their beds doing your homework. Their home became yours, and they were quickly becoming your favorite part of studying abroad. When the sleepover came around, you had already left a few outfits and bathroom supplies at the dorm, so you came straight after class to find the boys spread around the room.

They argued over whose room you would sleep in for hours before you’d even had dinner, which was endearing to say the least. You had watched a couple of movies, and watched the boys play video games and bicker about them. It was after this, once everyone had started getting tired, turned to their phones as the energy died down that Chan turned to you where you were curled up against him.

“Did you decided who you want to sleep with?” Chan asked. They’d opted to set up a makeshift bed in the middle of the room, but it looked like only a few of you were going to make it into a proper sleeping arrangement. Felix had already fallen asleep on one couch wrapped tight around Seungmin who didn’t look to be too terribly far behind him, his phone starting to slip out of his hand as his eyes fell shut. Meanwhile Jisung was curled up on the other couch with Changbin half-asleep opposite him. You looked at the bed the rest of you would share.

“Um,” You looked then at the boys who were still awake. “I don’t think it really matters.”

Minho was already settling down in the furthest pile of blankets. He waved you over.

“You can sleep here. That way you won’t have to trip over anyone if you need to get up,” He said, clearing the outside space for you. You smiled appreciatively.

“Thanks, Min,” You looked at the others to see if any of them had any objections, but none of them said anything. So you took the spot with another thank you to Minho. He didn’t say much, but you’d gotten used to reading into his body language. Especially when he was tired, and he seemed quietly pleased with your willingness to sleep beside him.

There was a little more talking and laughter as you all settled in, phones getting put away and blankets pulled around everyone. You found yourself pressed closer to Minho’s side, the two of you sharing a blanket. Your legs were pressed against one another’s, and the warmth of his body beside you had your mind straying. Maybe you were a bit touch starved after being away from your friends and family for so long.

Still, despite the thrumming warmth inside of you, you were eventually able to fall asleep. Minho was careful not to move, not wanting to risk disturbing you. You slept soundly for a while, only stirring to the feeling of Minho rolling over, slinging his arm sleepily around your waist and pulling you tight to his front. Honestly, you weren’t awake enough to think anything of it when you roused up a second time.

You hummed softly, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would lull you back into sleep. You were barely conscious, only focused on the tickling sensation along the front of your thighs. You shifted, and it didn’t stop. You pouted a little, fully intending to ignore it and go back to sleep when you felt the front of your nightgown shift, riding further and further up until the touch was firm enough to recognize. A hand, touching gentle and slow over the smooth skin of your thighs, sneaking your nightgown out of the way to trace the waistband of your panties. Your breath hitched, heart picking up to pound against your ribcage.

“So pretty,” The voice was just a whisper, air brushing past your ear. “I can’t help myself. But you don’t mind, do you?”

It was Minho, his voice low in the quiet of the room where all of your friends were sleeping soundly. His fingers slipped under the flimsy fabric of your panties. You were frozen, trying to wrap your barely awakened mind around the feeling of his fingers stroking your core, teasing you into arousal.

“I saw the way you were looking at me. Looking at all of us like a pretty little slut,” His words stung in an unfamiliar way, but the tone of his voice was like pure sugar, making your chest buzz. You squirmed a little, trying to escape the touch so you could at least think straight. You should be getting up, pushing him away and hitting him for touching you like that while you were sleeping.

“Minho,” You whispered, the desperation on the tail end of his name sounding almost like lust as you pushed his arm away. He just chuckled, he was close enough that his lips pressed ust below your ear. The sound of his voice sent a chill down your spine as he dipped his middle finger between your folds, spreading the growing wetness that he found there.

“There’s my babygirl. Shh, quit pushing,” He shushed you gently, kissing your neck a few more times. His voice was stern but sweet. Your stomach jumped, twisted. You whined.

“What are you doing?” You asked, still squirming, but it was hard to fight when the foreign sensation was catching you off guard. When it felt good to have him touch you the way that he was, ways you’d only ever touched yourself before.

“Taking care of you. Feels good, doesn’t it?” Gonna ruin you just like you want me to.” He told you, dipping his head lower to mouth down your neck, swirling his tongue over your pulse point. You hadn’t realized that you were overheating until you felt his breath on your skin. You let out a sigh as he sunk his finger into you, curling it just enough to press into your most sensitive spot. You could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke again. “Hush, pretty girl, don’t wanna wake the boys up.”

You felt your heart leap. You didn’t want to wake the other boys up. How could you ever face them knowing that you were being fingered open on their sitting room floor while they were all oblivious to it.

“Please,” You whispered, his finger pumping slowly inside of you, dragging a warmth from your core to spread through your entire body like wildfire. You wanted him to stop, even if it felt good, you were too deep in your head. But you couldn’t seem to ask him for that, not with the pressure in your lower tummy building with every pass of his thumb over your clit, every press of his finger inside of you.

“I know,” He cooed. “I know, feels so good. Can’t even ask for what you want. Wanna cum, babygirl?”

He was taunting you, his voice a little louder than it should have been. Your back arched off the makeshift bed you were laying in, your hips grinding closer to his touch against your will. You shook your head a little, but he didn’t stop. Instead he slipped a second finger into you carefully. You bit back a pathetic moan at the feeling, biting down on the inside of your cheek.

“There you go, you’re so close. Doing so good. Can you feel how tight you're squeezing my fingers?” He hissed lowly, scissoring two fingers inside of you and then picking up his pace. The speed made you bite your lip, burying your face into the pillow you’d borrowed. It wasn’t too fast, not enough to overwhelm you completely, but it was enough to make your head spin. Your breath was coming out faster now, sharp gasps and hushed exhales as he fingered you straight into an orgasm.

His hand came to cover your mouth, but not before another too-loud moan slipped past your lips. You clutched at his wrist, silently begging him to keep his hand in place and using him to ground yourself in reality. He pulled his fingers out slowly, continuing to rub your clit until your eyes started twitching shut from the overstimulation. He finally pulled his hands away then, wiping your juices off on the inside of your thigh.

“See, that wasn’t worth all that fighting, was it?” He leaned over, pressing a kiss to your parted lips. His teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging at it gently as he pulled away. You followed him, curling against his chest as you tried to catch your breath.

Part of you was mortified. You’d never been touched by anyone but yourself before him, and the first time someone had made you cum it happened in a room full of your friends while they slept. Still, something about that sent another wave of sparks through your stomach. You opted instead to just bask in the afterglow of one of the best orgasms of your life.

It was quiet for a little bit as Minho stroked your hair, letting you come down from your high. Then a voice spoke from the silence on the other side of the room.

“You’re supposed to share your tongue, hyung,” Han spoke up, propping himself up against the arm of the couch. You looked up, mostly because you couldn’t fully believe what you’d just heard him say. But there he was, Han Jisung in all of his bed-headed glory, chewing on his bottom lip and looking at you like you were his favorite snack.

“Sure, you know I always share. Thought you were sleeping,” Minho said, still quiet and holding you close to him. “Let’s take this somewhere else though. Don’t think she’s ready for everyone all at once.”

He’d barely finished his suggestion when Jisung was springing to his feet, careful not to disturb the others as he moved. He reached his hand out to you, and you took it with a little hesitation, still thinking about what Minho had said about you not being ready. Still, a building part of your mind was desperate for this, your pussy aching with need despite having just gotten off. Maybe you were still just tired, but you desperately wanted to see what the boys had in store of you.

Jisung led you down the hall to his room, pushing open the door. Minho wasn’t far behind, making a pit stop in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water before padding into the dark bedroom. Jisung turned on the lamp, telling you to get comfortable on the bed.

You tried to obey, but it was hard to fully get comfortable when you were so entirely on edge.

“She looks nervous,” The younger of the two noted. Minho nodded.

“She’s never done this before. Wanna be her first, Sungie?” He asked, stripping off the plain black shirt he’d been sleeping in, leaving him in just a pair of pajama pants slung low over his hips. You shivered at the way they were talking about you like you weren’t even there.

Jisung looked like he was seconds away from pouncing on you, his eyes running up and down your figure, though it was mostly hidden under the nightgown you’d picked out. He nodded.

“Yeah. You want that too, don’t you pretty thing? Want me to fill you up?” Jisung stripped off the hoodie he had on, and pushed the sweatpants that covered his lower half off so he was left in only his boxers, which weren’t doing a great job of hiding his straining erection.

You didn’t answer right away, your eyes still fixated on his arousal. He laughed affectionately. His voice was rougher now, rich with lust, but the sound of his laugh was just as sweet and charming as it had been the moment you’d met him.

“I think he asked you a question. Better answer him,” Minho told you. You looked over at him, eyes wide and giving you a look much like a startled bunny. Minho was leaned up against the wall, palming himself through his pants. You swallowed, looking back to where Jisung was watching, waiting expectantly for your answer.

“Yes, please,” You said quietly. Jisung smile, leaning a little closer and cupping his hand behind his ear.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught that. Can you repeat it for me, baby?” Your face burned red hot.

“Please, Ji, I want you.” You repeated, this time a little louder. The words weighed heavy on your tongue, feeling clumsy and entirely unsexy as you mumbled the words. You’d never said anything like that out loud before. The boys, however, were clearly satisfied with your answer if they way Jisung closed in on you was anything to go by.

He tucked two fingers under your chin, tilting it up to face him. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, smirking at the way that you eagerly followed him when he pulled away.

“Take that off,” He ordered firmly. The contrast between his gentle touch and the firmness of his voice made your heart pick up again, and you only hesitated a little. All thoughts of not giving in were gone when you saw the muscle in his jaw tick impatient. You shifted up enough to pull your nightgown over your head, setting it aside on his bed.

Having two men look at you like you were a feast all laid out for them did something to you. Your head tipped up with pride, and a wave of lust washed over you, dragging you deeper into the feeling like ocean tides. Jisung moved closer again, reaching out to run his hands along your bare sides. You were left in just your panties now, and your decision to sleep without a bra was brought to the forefront of your mind as he cupped your bare tits in his palms. Your eyelids fluttered shut.

His every touch was gentle as if you were made of porcelain, a priceless piece of art that he couldn’t bear to damage. His thumbs brushed the hardened peaks of your nipples, back and forth slowly until you were struggling to stay still under his ministrations.

“We don’t have all night,” Minho pointed out, his hand entirely down his pants now, though the way his hand barely moved gave you the impression that he was just trying to take the edge off as he waited for Jisung to get on with things. The younger of the two huffed, a half pout plumping his bottom lip as he looked at his elder.

“I don’t wanna break her, hyung.” He whined. Your stomach twisted at the idea of what he could possibly do to break you, another rush of wetness pooling between your thighs. He patted your hip. “Scoot up a little, lay back.”

You didn’t hesitate, doing exactly as he said and wiggling up on the mattress so you could lay down with plenty of space for both of them to follow you. And follow they did. Jisung kneeled on the bed, pushing your legs open so he could slot himself between them. He dipped his head, kissing along your jaw, down your neck, your collarbone. You closed your eyes, your fingers finding purchase in his hair as Minho sat beside you, his touch skidding after every press of Jisung’s lips to your skin.

It was hard to focus on anything other than the heavy warmth of Jisung’s mouth as his tongue ran circles over your skin, and the way Minho’s fingers touched your most sensitive patches of skin like you were a priceless gift to be treasured. Jisungs lips didn’t take very long to find their way to your tits, dutifully sucking your nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around until it was fully hardened while Minho pinched and tugged at the other. Once Jisung was fully satisfied, they switched sides, repeating the process over again.

You squirmed beneath them, your hips lifting up in an attempt to find some sort of friction against your aching core. Jisung chuckled, pulling away from your breasts with a satisfied hum.

“What was it we said about asking, babygirl?” He asked sweetly, pushing your hips back down onto the bed before returning to the achingly slow process of kissing down your stomach, his teeth digging against the soft skin there to hear the little gasps and whimpers it earned from you.

“I’m sorry, Ji,” You breathed out, “I’ll be good. Promise I’ll ask better.”

Minho groaned, his head dropping back at how easily you gave in to their rules. With his free hand he’d managed to push his pants off, leaving his hard cock exposed. You watched him stroke it slowly, losing all of the thoughts you’d been having as your tongue swiped over your lower lip. You’d never seen a cock in person before, and you’d always figured it would be nothing special, but the way his length curved just a little, the tiny bead of precum sitting pretty at the tip, it was mouthwatering.

“Go on then, ask for what you want. Show us how pretty you can beg.” Minho urged. You nodded almost frantically, and Jisung stifled a giggle against the spot near your hip that he’d begun sucking at, determined to mark up that silken skin of yours.

“Please, Ji, want you to touch me. Want you to make me feel good,” You begged, wiggling again. He laid a slap to the outside of your thigh. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but you did make a startled squeak at the sound.

“More,”

“I need it, I need you.” You sounded pathetic as you continued asking him for something – anything – more than what you were getting. “Please take me. I wanna be so good for you. Wanna let you take care of me, make you feel good. Please.”

You were too far gone to properly think about how filthy your words were, and if you had you’d be blushing up a storm, but it got you exactly what you wanted.

Jisung sat back on his heels, pulling your panties off of you and marveling at the way that the crotch of them glistened with your juices. He tossed them to Minho, who caught them and dropped them into the drawer by his bed. Then the younger boy was slipping lower on the bed, his shoulders nudging your thighs open even more. He dipped his head, running his tongue between your soaked folds without so much as a warning. And one taste didn’t do anything except make him desperate for ore.

He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pinning your hips in place as he eagerly started in on your pussy, working his tongue around your clit and sucking. He didn’t give you too much, dancing the line between not enough, and absolutely perfect. You were grasping for anything you could find to keep your composure, your hands moving from your thighs, to the sheets, to his hair, and back again.

“Jisung,” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut. You weren’t completely innocent, but this wasn’t like any pleasure you could give yourself. “Need more, please, please, please Ji.”

He chuckled against your warmth, dipping his tongue through your folds again before pulling away to spread your pussy open in front of his face.

“Pretty little thing needs more? Wanna cum on my tongue?” He cooed. Your hole clenched at the words, more of your juices flooding onto his fingers. You nodded, your words melting into senseless moans on your lips. It would have been humiliating if you didn’t feel like you were floating.

“Gotta be quiet if you want us to keep going, sweetheart.” Minho said. He was standing up now, still stroking himself. You looked at him desperately, pressing your lips shut as he stepped closer. He reached down, caressing the side of your face before brushing his thumb across the seam of your lips, gently prodding until you opened up for his thumb.

You sucked gently, swirling your tongue around the tip of it until he moaned and retracted his hand. The way you looked at him, pupils blown wide, lips still parted and glistening with your spit, it was damn near pornagraphic, and he cursed himself for not thinking to grab his phone and record this. He pressed closer, tapping the head of his dick against your mouth and watching the way you instinctively opened up for him.

“Can’t be all noisy with your pretty little mouth stuffed full, hm?” He said, slowly pressing the tip into your mouth, his eyes shutting at the way you suckled on it until he pushed further into it. He was heavy against your tongue, his taste coating your mouth in a silent claim to you.

Just having them both touching you at the same time felt like heaven, even more so when the finger Jisung had been circling your clit with slid into you, curling up against a spot you didn’t even know existed inside of you. He seemed pleased when you rocked into his touch, repeating the motion and lapping at the wetness that he coaxed out of you. You moaned, the sound muffled around the cock thrusting lazily into your mouth.

The two of them were watching you intently, Minho stroking his fingers through your hair every time the tip of his cock would tease a little too deep into your throat and make the muscles flutter around him there. Jisung palmed at your thighs and hips gently while he fingered you open and ate you like a man starved. Your orgasm wasn’t going to sneak up on them, and the moment your muscles began to tense, the instant your breath picked up and your hips chased Jisung’s touch, he was pulling away completely.

The blissful heat in your body turned searing, and you whimpered. You had been so close, the pressure building had been heavenly, but now it damn near made you sob. You wiggled more, desperate to have his hands on you again.

“Come on,” Minho coaxed, pulling out of your mouth, and Jisung dipped his head again, his lips moving over the sensitive skin of your thighs. You knew quickly what you had to do.

“Please. Please please please, I need to cum. Need to feel you, I can’t take it,” You said breathlessly, writhing even more.

“Good girl,” Jisung praised, sitting up so he could line his aching cock up with your hole. Minho stroked himself, his other hand still carding through your hair as Jisung started to push into you. Jisung’s cock was just as pretty as Minho’s, though not as long and almost intimidatingly thick.

“Ready babygirl?” Gonna take his cock like a perfect little toy?” Minho asked, tugging on your hair so you’d look at him. You nodded, your hand scrambling to grip at his muscled thighs as Jisung started pushing into you. The feeling stung, and it was only partially offset by his thumb swirling figure eights against your clit. All the while they murmured praise your way, shushing your whines until you were filled with him.

Your chest heaved with desperate breaths as you tried to adjust to the feeling of being split open on his dick. You looked at Minho, watching the way he stroked himself as Jisung rolled his hips into yours, once, twice, three times.

“Fuck, look at you baby. Look how your pussy just sucks him in. So hungry for him,” Minho mused.

“So much,” You murmured breathlessly, your hips wiggling underneath his thrusts. He chuckled proudly, slowly beginning to pick up his pace. You nearly sobbed at the first feeling of not being full, but you didn’t even have enough time to voice your neediness before he was filling you up again.

You were having a hard time keeping your voice down again, so Jisung slid two fingers into your mouth. You’d never felt this good before, your mind hazy and your chest warm.

“Fuck, gonna cum,” Minho warned. You blinked up at him, having half forgotten that he was jerking himself off at all. Jisung carefully opened your mouth, pulling your jaw down with his fingers, and it was only a matter of moments before Minho was shooting his cum onto your face, most of it landing on your lips or painting your cheeks. Once he was done, Jisung used his fingers to scoop the liquid into your mouth. You sucked his fingers clean, moaning around them eagerly.

“So fucking load, babygirl. I knew you wanted everyone to know you’re our pretty little whore,” Jisung mused, pulling his fingers out of your mouth so he could grip your hips properly, tugging you to meet his thrusts. “Show me how good my cock feels, wanna see you cum on it.”

His words had your head spinning, and you didn’t stand a single chance. The thought of having the boys listening to you get fucked for the first time was too much. You came around his dick, and he didn’t slow down to give you a breath. If anything, his pace picked up as he chased his own end.

His breath hissed through his teeth as he fucked into you, driving your orgasm on for long enough that the stimulation began to sting through your limbs. You were trembling, and Jisung murmured sweet apologies for fucking you too good, his words becoming babbling as he neared his orgasm.

“I know baby, just a little more. Wanna fill you up. You can take it right? Gonna be my good little toy?” He groaned, his hips growing harsh and sloppy. You nodded, nails digging into Minho’s thighs. But it was worth it to watch the way Jisung fell apart. He buried himself deep into you, emptying his load and filling you up just like he’d promised. He moaned your name like a prayer, and both of your chests heaved when he pulled out.

All three of you were sticky with sweat, and both boys stroked your hair, your sides, your hips, dragging you back down from cloud nine. When your ears stopped ringing, you could hear their sugar sweet praise. Your entire body was heavy, and you closed your eyes.

Minho moved away from the bed, kissing your head, the Jisung’s. He stole a fresh pair of boxers from the closet.

“I’ll be right back. Stay with her. She can sleep in here, but we gotta get her cleaned up first. You made a mess.” He said, half scolding Jisung. He nodded, curling up beside you to wait, still kissing your shoulder and arm.

“Gotta stay awake love, just a little longer.” He murmured. You nodded, barely coherent but still happy to do whatever they said. And much to your relief, Minho returned quickly. He made quick work of cleaning you up, wiping your face clean, then your legs, and finally the mess between them.

“Let’s get you some rest. We can finish cleaning up in the morning, okay?” He sat beside you, tossing the washcloth into the laundry and stroking your now tangled curls. You nodded, nuzzling into his touch. On the other side of you, Jisung was fast asleep, and Minho grinned. His little risk had taken a much better turn than he could have hoped, and whatever persuasion was left could wait until morning. For now, he was satisfied with making sure you got a well deserved rest after putting on a show for him.