#Spinach is stepping up!

[scrawlingskribbles]

oh look, here I go again reaching for the hot cheetos 😂 sweet, delicious hubris……..

[slushycoookie]

I Like Your Dress ~ Logan Howlett x Fem! Reader

✩ Word Count: 2.7k

✩ Content: Logan goes crazy over your dress, Domino shows up (I miss her so bad), cream pie is mentioned A LOT, Wade breaks the 4th wall, P in V, Logan does NOT wrap it up this time, MINORS DNI!!

✩ A/N: Reader is the same reader as the one shot I wrote. You don't have to read that one, I don't go into much detail but if you guys want to read that one, read it here

Masterlist | Commissions

The fresh smell of food made Logan awake from his slumber.

Sleepily searching for you on your side of the bed, only to discover that you weren't there. Having a sudden burst of energy, Logan got out of bed to find you. He didn’t need to go far when sees you wiggling your hips at the stove, stirring a pot.

“Hey.”

You look behind you when hearing his voice, “Hi!”

Logan pulls you close as you greet him with good morning kisses. Well, afternoon after checking the time.

“How did you sleep? I let you sleep in a little bit, you were so tired from that mission last night.”

Logan smiles, “I slept alright.”

He sees the multitude of ingredients on the counter and remembers what they're were for. Wade was throwing a potluck since Domino was coming back from a month long mission. Of course, he invited you two and you were so excited. Logan was neutral. He would've preferred to stay in bed with you all day.

You said you were making a few things, but the amount of ingredients you had made him wonder. “How many people are you planning to feed?”

“Enough.” You said, going back to your pot, which he found out was pasta. “Colossus and Peter will be there. We both know how much they like to eat.”

“Don’t push yourself.” His tone was rough but you knew it was his way of caring.

“I won't.”

Logan grabbed himself an afternoon shot of bourbon before excusing himself to get ready. Trying to prepare himself for socializing and dealing with Wade.

When he came back clean and not as rugged, you were finishing up, putting white icing on the strawberry cake. Logan swiped his finger on the cake and licked it, cream cheese on his tongue.

“That’s good.”

“Don’t lick it anymore.” You lightly threaten, smacking his hand away. “Save it for the party.”

“Fine.” Logan kisses your cheek and stands behind you to watch you finish icing the cake. In your beautiful handwriting ‘Welcome back, Domino’ in pink icing. “Would ya look at that? You should be on those baking shows.”

“Nuh uh, I'm okay with just watching videos.”

Once you were finished, he helped you place the cake in the dome, ready to go with the rest of the food. You gave him an order to not eat any of it before you ran into the bathroom to get ready. Logan gave you about five minutes before inspecting the tins. He smiled when he saw you only made a few items, a large tray of pasta salad and spinach dip. Just to make sure it wasn't poisoned, he took a swipe of each, humming at how good it tasted.

He knew you were going to be a while so he opened a window, grabbed a cigar and lounged to smoke. Logan knew you didn't like it when he smoked in the apartment, but said it was okay as long as he let in some fresh air after.

As usual, you took almost a hour getting ready, but it was well worth the wait.

When you stepped out of the room, Logan started coughing, blowing smoke out the window to make sure a lot didn't linger. His eyes trailed your outfit, a tie dye colored maxi dress with thin straps, and cute, brown sandals to match. Logan didn't care when you scolded him for obviously taking a bite of your pasta salad. His breath was stolen away.

“I like your dress.”

“You're changing the subject, but thanks.”

He steps in front of you, eyes lowered as he kept gazing at your form. The dress hugging your body while still being appropriate. Logan's hand rests on your ass cheek, giving it a firm squeeze.

“I really like your dress.”

You avoid his lustful gaze, “Don’t you start.”

“Start what?” He steals a kiss from you, careful not to mess up your lipstick. “I can't compliment my lady?”

“You can compliment me by using your words.”

“It's not as fun that way.” He dips his head between your neck to smell you. You weren't wearing any perfume this time, but the honey scent from your lotion was enough to complete the entire package. Logan growls, squeezing your ass some more and making you giggle.

“We should go, I don't wanna be late.”

“We won't. I swear.” His hand cups the nape of your neck, putting it back so he could kiss you some more. Parting your lips to dive his tongue right in. Your moans spurring him on.

It didn't last long though.

“Logan.” You gently push him away, “We will have some time later.”

He sucked his teeth before grabbing all of the food you made.

Logan remained a scowling mess when you two arrived for the potluck.

You were the more social one out of the relationship, so you immediately flocked to the crowd who welcomed you with open arms. Even Domino, despite that this was the first time you two saw each other. Logan makes his usual rounds of saying hi before picking a corner with a drink in his hand and observing.

It was his way of enjoying himself without being easily annoyed and overwhelmed by the sheer number of people in the apartment. Best of all, he could watch you socialize. Your face lighting up at the conversations while that gorgeous dress clung to your body. Logan always likes to admire you in your element, but you wearing that dress was more than enough to make him want to do things to you. His hands involuntary flexed at the idea of feeling your body through the dress.

“There’s my grumpy kitty!” Domino says to Logan, who scowled at her, but there was no malice behind it.

“Hey, Dom.”

“Wade told me that your hair was getting better and now I see why.” She motions to you talking to Peter about him getting highlights. Logan's lips curl upwards again at the sight of you. “She's cute.”

“Thanks. I heard she scheduled you an appointment?”

Domino nods, “Gonna try something new. This is getting stale.” She motions to her afro.

“Don’t you dare change it.” Wade joins in, pointing at her. “You know how I feel about change.”

“Aww.” Domino pinches his cheek, “We all gotta grow up sometime.”

“You know who you're talking to right?” Logan comments under his drink.

“Your afro was one of the reasons you were so likeable in the second movie. Now what do we have, a woman with luck powers? I still don't believe that's a thing, by the way.”

Domino shakes her head at the audacity of it all, “I missed you too.”

She excuses herself, leaving Logan and Wade together. The latter started getting a little giddy, cradling his cup, while shooting multiple glances. Logan promised you that he was going to play nice during the party and not get easily annoyed at Wade.

“What?”

“We’re having cream pie.” Wade mentions, “Do you wanna know what flavor it is?”

Logan holds back an eyeroll, “Sure.”

“It's boston cream pie. I know we have a lot of sweet things considering we also have the cake your lady made, but I really wanted some. Actually, it's been a while since you've had cream pie, right?”

“I guess.”

“Oh you'll enjoy this one. You have a bit of a sweet tooth.” There was a moment of silence between them as they watched everyone enjoy themselves. You were getting many compliments on your food, asking for the recipes to make at home. “ Vanessa and I are huge fans of cream pie. Does your lovely lady like it too?”

Logan glared at him for a second before thinking about the question, “I think so.”

“Has she had it in a while?”

“No.”

“I think she'll be very happy when she gets some-”

“Why…in the fuck do you keep talking about the damn cream pie?” He feels a slight headache coming on.

Wade shrugs before taking a sip of his drink. “I can't like pie?”

Logan growls, ready to toss him out the apartment when you inadvertently save Wade, walking over with a huge smile on your face.

“Hi.”

“Hey, sugar.”

You embrace him with arms around his neck. Your lips kissing his cheek, taking in the aftershave.

“Hi Wade.”

“Hi. Your grumpy boyfriend and I were just talking about cream pie. Do you know we're having pie later?”

Logan felt his eye twitch at the question, his hand on your hip to keep himself from punching Wade.

“No, I didn’t!” Your eyes light up, “What kind of pie?”

“Boston cream. One of the best pies in the world, I should say.”

“Ooh, you know what, I haven’t had cream pie in a long time.”

“Oh really?” Wade tilts his head a little, while you nod. “Well, obviously you gotta have some. I think you'll enjoy it. The author knows what I'm talking about.”

And just like that, he's gone.

Logan didn't want to acknowledge whatever that was so he pulls you amongst his body. The most handy you'll ever allow him to be in public.

“We should go.” He whispers in your ear.

“Hm? We've only been here for two hours.”

That was enough, he wanted to say. Everytime he focuses on you and that dress, he wants to forget behaving and take you back home to lavish on you all night. For those two hours, Logan was trying to keep his thoughts pure enough to get a raging hard on. He didn't know how long he could last.

“Just hang in there a bit longer, okay?” You give him a kiss for encouragement. Logan takes in the imprint of your lips as you go back to socialize. No, he wasn't going to make it.

He hangs on when everyone sits around the table, laughing and talking. You're beside him, hand on his thigh to stabilize him and keep him in the conversation. Logan wants you to go higher, feel the impending hard on.

He needs to get you alone, show you that he was failing at behaving. There weren't a lot of places where you two wouldn't be disturbed. And he didn't want to take you outside and fuck you in an alleyway.

But God answered him.

You excused yourself, making your way to the bathroom. Logan watches you go as everyone continues talking. He gives it a minute before getting up and pretending to grab another drink. Instead, he beelines to the bathroom, standing beside the door and waits. His heartbeat in his chest.

“Who wants some cream pie?” Wade asks, everyone roaring with excitement once you finally open the door.

Logan pushes you back into the bathroom, lips immediately on yours. Your surprised gasp eggs him on while he traps your body against the wall.

“This is all your fault.” He mutters, constantly stealing kisses.

“Huh? What?” You try to keep up with him as his hands are all over your body, feeling your soft curves through the dress.

“You know what. Wearing this dress, not letting me do something to you before we came here. Torturing me.”

As he spoke, his lips were everywhere. Your face and neck. Trying to wear you down and submit.

“Torturing you? That, that wasn't my intention-oh.” His teeth latched on to your shoulder, having some self control to mark you in a place no one could see.

“I need you.” Logan starts bunching up your dress.

You try to stop him by pushing his hands down, “L-Logan? Logan, baby you didn't lock the door.”

“It's gonna be quick.” You let him bunch up your dress, seeing a glimpse of your panties, which he now sees that it's the lacey blue ones he liked. The ones you mentioned reminded you of the accent colors of his suit.

Logan's jeans were getting tight when he removed them, stuffing them in his pocket. Without saying a word, you jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. You whimpered under his lips as he was finally able to touch you while wearing the dress. Large hands molding your breasts through the fabric, still managing to locate the nipple and pinching it. His hips rolling against you, creating a nice friction against your cunt.

You were doing so good at keeping quiet for him, only managing the occasional whimper when he hit a perfect spot. Making sure you were stable on his arm, Logan reaches down to your core. His chest rumbles when he feels how wet you're getting. Sinking one digit inside while his thumb presses on your clit. Making circular motions while he was getting you ready.

“Didn’t need to do much, huh?” He said, watching you twist and turn. “You wanted this as much as I did.”

You didn't say anything but he smelled you. His finger coated in your delectable arousal. If you two weren't on a time limit, he'd reach down to get a taste.

Once you were ready, Logan maneuvers to unzip his pants. Even though you were dazed out of your mind, you remember something.

“I left my purse out there.” Your purse had condoms and knowing Logan, he didn't bring them as you insisted on being prepared in case something like this happens. But now both of you were unprepared.

“I'll get ya plan b at the store.” He continues to unzip his jeans.

“Don’t forget…”

Logan pulls his cock out with one motion, using some of your wetness for lubrication. “I won't.”

He then slips into you. You clutch on to him for dear life, your nails digging into his shirt. Curse his healing factor. He wanted to see the marks you'd leave on him.

He keeps you stable against the wall, sinking into you completely before starting to move. Quick and sharp thrusts in and out of you. Low, wet sounds filling his ears besides your shaky sobs.

“O-Oh god…”

Logan rolls his eyes back at your desperate tone, “God's not here, honey.”

His own voice comes out strained as he's fucking you. How he wants to pull your dress up further to see your breasts move. But having you like this was much hotter. Wanting you to remember that this was the dress that made him go crazy.

“Mmh Lo’…” He almost comes right there when your hand grips the nape of his neck, pulling the hairs.

Logan grunts, picking up speed, feeling some of his cum leaking out into you. His tip pressing against your cervix that was making you croon. Goosebumps forming on your skin as he hit that spot repeatedly. Making you whine and wince under him.

“Squeeze around me, sweetheart.” He commands and you do so. Your walls molding around his cock as you silently cried out. Even at the height of your pleasure, you still managed to be quiet, mouth agape and he wanted to shut those lips with his own. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.”

Logan wasn't far behind, pounding into you mercilessly before shooting his cum inside you. He stilled for a moment then pumped into you a few times to make sure all of his load made it inside. You capture him in another kiss, both of you sighing against each other.

Laughter nearby caused you two to come down from the high. Logan put you down, handing you your panties. He grabbed a few paper towels to make sure no cum stained his jeans. You were checking yourself out in the mirror, making sure Logan didn't mess up your makeup. He did ended up getting some on his face, which had you quickly trying to wipe it away with your thumb.

“I'm good, I'm good.” Logan reassures you before fixing his shirt. “I'll go out first.”

“Okay.” Before parting, he gave you another kiss, completely not caring if lipstick stained his lips.

The party continued as if the two of you weren't missing for the last fifteen minutes. Logan played it cool by grabbing another drink. When you came out the bathroom, you two momentarily locked eyes, before acting like nothing happened.

“Did you enjoy the cream pie?”

Logan jumps at Wade's sudden appearance, “What the fuck? How did you know that I-?”

“The pie's right there.” Wade points to the cut up pie on the kitchen counter. Logan stares at it, a bit dumbfounded. “It's good right?”

Logan's eyes land on you as you're speaking to Domino once more, “Yeah. It was good.”

Tags: @allmyn1ghts

[obesecamels]

.

[kthsbelle]

STRAWBERRY HAIRCLIP 🌸🍓

★ summary: female! reader finds a tattooed stranger asleep on her bed in the middle of her squishmellows at a house party.

★ pairing: college!eren jaeger x soft maths major fem!reader ♡

★ warnings + tags: 18+, college au, tattooed eren, softcore cute reader , eren w a snakebite piercing , thick thigh reader , poetry from eren, smut .

★ wordcount: 3,395

a/n: this is my first fic here ! i read a lot of eren au’s today and this idea suddenly came to mind ! i decided to share . please enjoy !

“ not again…” an exasperated sigh fell heavily from your lips like it weighed a thousand pounds . you were standing in front of your house , a small pile of books you had borrowed from the library squeezed against your chest as you looked at the fluorescent lights peaking out of the windows . the bass from inside your house reverberated throughout the neighborhood , and even from the outside , you could distinguish the faint sound of a pop song .

another college party .

your brother was a heavy partier , but you strongly disliked when he did those at home without even warning you first . you had a throbbing headache from having your nose in books all day , practicing for mid-terms . the last thing you needed were drunk college kids slurring around and music blaring in your ears .

rest , you needed rest .

options - doja cat ft JID

you pushed the front door to your house open and instantly wished you hadn’t . as if it was waiting for a chance to hit you , the sound of music rushed to you and assaulted your ears , making you wince back in surprise . “ im gonna kill this asshole,” you grumbled under your breath as you started pushing past the squeezing bodies that danced in the living room .

you stopped in the kitchen which seemed relatively empty , except for a flury of red hair moving between the fridge doors .

“ sasha ?” you called out over the music . the red-headed girl in question jumped in surprise , her head yanking up to smash directly against the frame of the fridge . the force of the action caused it to shake a little . she yelped out in pain . “ are you okay?” you quickly questioned with your hand slapped over your mouth to hold in a laugh .

“ im good , im good !” she quickly said as she stepped away from the fridge with a bottle of tostios’ spinach dip . “ you’re not here for the party , are you ?” she said , eyeing your outfit with an amused look on her face .

you obviously looked misplaced and you knew it . with your printed , pastel yellow high-waist pleated skirt , yellow oversized ‘ LEMON’ sweatshirt and knee high socks , you rather looked like you belonged browsing an empty aisle in a CD store or at barnes and nobles . – and honestly , you wish you were .

your style has always been the epitome of soft girl core , with small stickers adorning your cheeks and orange blush at the tip of your nose . your requirement was to look like a cute fairy nymph at all times .

you’ve been like this for as long as you could remember and before the trend gave it this name . your brother found it endearing , even though he’d mask it by poking fun at you . you didn’t care though , it gave you comfort .

“ where’s my idiot brother ?” you questioned . watching her prying open the bag of chips and scooping up some of the dip . a lot of it .

“ oh – he’s gone somewhere upstairs with katie “ she paused to swallow, “ you don’t wanna see him now…” she shook her head and you quickly caught on to her suggestion .

“ ew!” you grimaced . the last thing you wanted to think about was your brother…doing it .even though he was two years older and you were relatively close , one thing you didn’t want to know about was...this.

you shuddered softly and stepped forward to make way for the drunk couple that stumbled in with their mouth glued to each other in an intense make-out session . your mouth lifted in an annoyed expression while sasha shielded her face away like she had looked directly into the sun for too long , ‘ gross ! connie i dont wanna see this !’

you laughed softly at these two before deciding that your hunt for your brother was over . you just really wanted to sleep – as much as you could despite the music. “goodnight , sash ! and…connie ?” the last part came out like a question as the man seemed to be too preoccupied by the blonde he was kissing . you smiled at the waving sasha before making your way out again.

you inhaled again before diving back in the crowd , looking to reach the stairs that lead to your room . you got a few stares which you completely ignored , not wanting anything to do with drunk college boys . your eyes stayed focused ahead of you , giving the clear message that you weren’t here to have fun . you balanced the books against your chest as you went up the stairs and into the hallway . the sound of the music was considerably lower , but still bothersome . you walked past a few people making out in the hallway , your eyes focused on your white bedroom door at the end of the hall , holding your breath at the mere idea of finally finding solace – peace in your sanctuary . you lifted your knee to allow one arm to reach for the handle while the books took support against the other arm steadily . you twisted the doorknob and wasted no time to walk in your room , but what you saw nearly made you scream for help .

i was never there – the weeknd

in the middle of all your squishmellows , sprawled out , and in a seemingly deep sleep , laid a complete stranger . he wore black cargo pants , a white shirt and a black bomber . he slept comfortably on his back with a tattooed arm draped over his eyes , glossy lips slightly parted letting air through as his chest rose and fell softly . the shiny metal on his lip caught your attention , and you identified it as a snakebite piercing. the position had allowed his shirt to ride up his hips , the V lines showing a sinful path that curved and dipped down inside his Calvin boxers which were peaking out of his pants . the fairy lights above your headboard shone soft golden orbs on him , painting an ironic picture as he laid against your avocado-patterned comforter . you felt your throat closing , strangely aroused by the scene .

 you couldn’t stop the book avalanche even if you wanted to . the book on top slipped out of your grip , dragging down all the other ones with it and  they subsequently hit the ground with a loud thud . ‘

“shh ! shh !” you tried hushing the book as if they were alive as you knelt on the floor to pick them up . the sleeper immediately froze at the sound before he quickly sat up , his messy bun almost coming undone at the abruptness of his reaction. he stared at you through confused , tired eyes before realization hit him . “ oh shit !” he croaked out , voice deep from his tiredness as he sank on the floor to help you pick them up .

“ w-who are you ?” you questioned while looking down , feeling the tip of your ears go red . why are you even getting shy ? he’s the one in your room .

“ eren. “ the stranger you know as eren held out a small pile of books towards you . you didn’t look at him directly . “you ?”

you mumbled out your name.

his green eyes peeked at one of books he held and a thick eyebrow scrunched in confusion , “ differential …equations…?” the confusion was evident in his tone as his head tilted to decipher the picture on the book cover . a few strands of hair fell above his eyes .

“ applied mathematics major ,” you answered after having swallowed the ball of anxiety that had settled in your throat .

his emerald eyes widened in surprise before a small smirk lifted the corner of his lips , “ for real ? damn . “ you were used to this reaction . most people thought you studied theater or fashion because you always looked like you could be in a winx club live action .

“you ?” you asked back . quickly taking the books from him and dropping them on your lap , the impact causing your thick thighs to jiggle softly . eren did not seem to miss this action , his eyes lasting a minute longer on the sight before looking up at you . you subconsciously thought of the typical college fuckboy majors; business , or music...

“ literature.” it was your turn to show surprise , and the boy chuckled softly at your expression . you couldn’t help but notice how white his teeth were .

“ah…” was your answer . you wanted to slap yourself for losing your social skills for a minute , but you were just too tired to handle so many emotions and words at the same time .the boy only chuckled in response , his hand brushing back the bangs that only managed to fall over his eyes again . “you don’t seem convinced .”

miss you – oliver tree , robin schulz

“i’m not,” you answered honestly , a small smile of your own dancing on your lips , “ you look like you study…”

“ business ? music ?” he took the words right out of your mouth as he stood up , extending his hand down towards you . you were suddenly taken aback by how tall he was and how he seemed to command all the attention in the room . you blushed when you realized how close you were to his thigh and quickly grabbed onto his hand to stand up , except he pulled you up harder than you expected and you crashed against his chest . the smug look on his face told you he did it on purpose . your chin rested against his chest , slowly assessing the height difference between you two .

for a moment , his eyes seemed to have darkened into something more primal before they softened again , a smirk curling his lips upwards , “ and you didn’t strike me as a maths major either . “

you rolled your eyes , feeling slightly offended . you turned around and stepped out of his embrace towards your desk , suddenly feeling chilly. you knew it was your insecurities hitting at you – people always had a hard time believing you were smart and it pissed you off . however , you had long moved passed this – or so you thought . how did eren manage to set you off so easily ? it wasn’t even that bad .

he felt the cold air coming from you and raised his hand in defense , “ hey , hey . not saying there's anything wrong with that , you know ? i wouldn’t be able to half of what they do anyway, “ a small smile drew on your lips at his attempt to reprimand . “ plus,” he added as you arranged your books on your desk in no particular order to distract you from your wild pulse , “ its ‘cause you’re really cute . in a…forest pixie kind of way…”

love lost – mac miller , the temper trap

a small giggle broke from you , “makes sense . thanks. “ you answered , bending forward a bit to work your sneakers out of your feet while holding onto the table . the cold air hit the cheeks of your ass which was unknowingly protruding out of your skirt and you heard a sharp breath being drawn behind you .

when you turned around , eren almost looked like he wanted to pounce on you . you cleared your throat gently , feeling blood rush to your lower stomach like molten lava .

“ what do you do in literature anyway ? analyze Shakespeare’s attachment issues ?” this ripped a laugh out of eren . his laugh was even more attractive than his smile - it chimed pleasantly in your ear , sounding boyish but deep .

“ good point . but we did study him a lot .” 

you arched an eyebrow and smirked , “ what’s your favorite quote by him , then ?” you asked challengingly , not really expecting him to answer . you just wanted to mock how boys challenged you whenever you expressed interest in something unconventional . eren shrugged before lifting his eyes towards the ceiling in a small moment of contemplation.

“ love is not love which alters when it’s alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. it is an ever-fixed mark, that looks on tempests, and is never shaken.” he finished the last part , teal eyes boring into your soul .” my favorite author is bell hooks , though.” he added with a small smile .

to say that you were taken aback was an understatement . the tattooed stranger that broke into your room just spoke the most meaningful words in the softest , yet firm tone you’ve heard. you wanted him to recite poems to you over and over.

the two of you stayed silent before you looked towards your bed and back at him . “ uhm…what are you doing in my room , anyway ?” you decided to address the elephant in the room which you should’ve obviously done a while ago .

“ oh , uh i was looking for a bed to crash and sober up and your room smelled good ... like strawberries .” he explained and looked at your bed and the array of squishmellows decorating it with a look that seemed endearing . “ not gonna lie , it’s the most comfortable sleep i’ve ever had .” he said and you smiled with pride knowing that you had invested a lot of money into making yourself the softest , most comfortable bed ever .

“ but , i can leave if you want...” his voiced trailed off as if hoping you would say no - which you did . “ i mean you can stay a while more...”

“ hell yeah ! “ he cheered and let himself fall back on the bed which allowed him to bounce back a few times before he grabbed one of your blue axolotl squishmallows and pressed it against his face . you laughed softly , oddly proud that someone loved your bed so much . your friends always loved staying in your room when they came over, but it’s the first time a stranger - who seemed so different from you expressed such content from being here .

you plopped down on the bed and brought your knees to your chest , looking up down at your hands while you chipped away at your pastel nail polish . eren pulled the plush down slowly , green eyes peeking over at you. “what ?” you asked feeling your face heat up uncontrollably. “ you’re cute. “ he simply said with a smirk before looking up at the ceiling . 

you bit your lip from stopping your smile from spreading too much . “you’re flattering me .” you replied as you looked down at your thighs which seemed to have been more exposed than you thought . the elastic at the hem of your thigh-highs sank slightly into your skin , squishing it out in a way that seemed more lewd than you intended . you quickly reached to pull your skirt down but ring-covered fingers pressed against your thigh , the cold metals sending chills down your spine as he blocked your action. 

“no.” he said in a semi-commanding tone . “ they look great.” you could see the intensity in his eyes as he looked at you and moved his hand away after letting it slide down a bit leaving a burning path from where he touched you .

your heart was beating inside your ears at this point and you needed a distraction . “where are your friends anyway... or girlfriend ?” you bit your lip .

white tee - summer walker

this was a bait to see if he had any girl in his life , which , why wouldn’t he ?

“they’re all drunk and annoying right now...and don’t have one” he answered the last part with a smirk on his lip as he looked at you teasingly , long and thick eyelashes that curled at the corner giving him a gracious aura . “ why ? wanted to know if position was empty? “ he asked in a teasing tone .

“ you’re such an ass!” you whined , pushing him with soft laugh to mask your embarrassment at the fact that you were, in fact , checking. eren chuckled and reached towards your face , pointing at one of the stickers adorning your eyes . you understood that he wanted it , so you pulled a little star and placed it against his hand .eren looked at it like it was the first time he’s even seen a sticker.

a small silence settled between you two as you played with your fingers . 

“ what about you ?” he suddenly asked after his silent contemplation . 

“ nope !” 

“damn...how ?” he asked , genuinely confused and you shrugged in response , “ they’re not business majors “ you replied teasingly which made him release another amused laugh . the vibration shocks throughout your body .

eren looked at you silently , bangs brushing agains his long lashes which clearly annoyed him . he tried swatting them away but it never worked . you giggled softly and motioned for him to come closer to you , “ come here,”  you told him as you removed one of the hairclips that held your ponytail . 

eren obediently scooted closer to you , resting his cheek against your thigh while his hand palmed at either sides of them . “ is that okay ?” he asked . to have the hottest boy you’ve seen resting on your lap ? 

YES , YES , YES , YES !!!

“ sure “ you answered and he simply closed his eyes with a content smirk on his lips . you were ready to combust as you reached down , brushing the soft strands of his dark hair away from his face and slicked it back into his messy bun before sliding the hairclip over it and securing it . you smiled as you looked at him . what a contrast it was - this edgy , tattooed man with a strawberry hair clip in his hair . he didn’t seem to care either . 

“i’d eat you out real good right now .” the words he let out almost made you choke on air. he opened his eyes looking back at you and he was dead serious.

the man let out a laugh at your expression before closing his eyes again , his lustful expression suddenly gone like it was never here . “ don’t worry , i won’t.”

you probably looked at him like he grew two heads . you didn’t say anything back , your stomach in knots. he was so hot , it hurt . would you really pass up an opportunity like this ? when the last time you even got laid ? this time by the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on .

“what if i want you to...?” you attempted back , voice coming out small but hopeful . 

suddenly the hands that were resting so softly against your thighs tightened their grip and eren smirked at he lifted his head . “good girl”  he praised

you gasped softly as he pushed your back to the bed , your cunt throbbing uncontrollably . he parted your legs and knelt between them , his erection pressing against your thigh . he felt so hard . you bit down your lip , feeling your wetness spill out . “ wanted to eat that pussy the second i saw you on that floor...” he admitted , his voice low and guttural . his fingers pulled your panties down and hooked your legs over his broad shoulders . his fingers separated your puffy folds , exposing your pussy completely to the cold air . you bit down your lip , letting out a needy whine causing your tiny hole to clench around nothing and eren nearly felt his mouth water . “shit...” he breathed before sticking his tongue out , letting fingers collect the saliva on them before rubbing them on your bare folds . you didn’t need any lubrification , but he just wanted his spit on you . he was convinced he’d never seen a pussy like this . he was about to dip his head down and eat you like a caveman when you stopped him mid-action. 

“eren ?” you asked , blushing beet red . he was confused but paused to listen , hoping you didn’t want him to stop already . “ c-can you tell me another poem ?” the man couldn’t help the smile on his face. “ you wanna be talked to while getting your pretty pussy eaten ?” he mused before nodding, “ of course, princess. “

he dipped down between your thighs , his hot tongue sliding down your folds .

“by my soul,”

his hands squeezed your thighs around his head even more , like he wanted be suffocated . you moaned out at the delicious contact of his tongue gliding down to your hole. 

“ i can neither eat”

his lips closed around your clit , his piercing brushing against it making your body jolt on the bed. “eren !”

“drink”

his lips sucked on one of your labia folds before releasing it. “fuck - eren !”

“nor sleep;”

he lifted his head and ran the flat of his tongue against your whole cunt before moving his head sideways to place kisses on your inner thighs , his warm breath fanning soothingly over your skin .

“nor– “ a finger dipped in your hole , slowly thrusting in and out. you screamed his name again, body shaking on the bed, “,what’s still worse , ” he placed another kiss against your pussy ,

“love any woman in the world but her.”

his head dipped down again, and this time, he wouldn’t stop eating you out. you felt pleasure ripple through your body in delicious waves as your eyes closed and you let yourself go . the last thing you saw between your thighs was his dark glossy hair and the strawberry hairclip that held his bangs together .

[tpwk-formula1]

Hey lovely 🩶

Can I please have Lando Norris with a thick crust, red sauce, cilantro, spinach and roasted mushrooms, and some Sprite and sweet tea. And some dessert too. Thank youuuuu!!!

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thick crust sugar daddy red sauce rough sex cilantro "Stop crying and fucking take it" spinach "Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock" roasted mushrooms “Fucking you so good you I can see myself in your tummy” sweet tea dumbification sprite size kink dessert yes served by Lando Norris

Lando x Sugar Baby! reader

TW rough sex, creampie, fingering, pussy eating, crying, multiple orgasms, subspace

WC 1100+

Y/N POV

"Lando, I'm ready to leave," I say with a bright smile across my face after doing some damage on the card Lando gave me.

"Thank god, thought I was gonna have to sell a car if we stayed another minute," Lando joked making my face heat slightly.

"I'm sorry," I reply softly making Lando scoff and pull me into his chest for a quick hug before pulling away and leading us to the exit to head back to his place.

"Nothing to be sorry about. I told you to max that card out. You've been a terrible sugar baby lately. Taking my cock like you were made for it while letting that damn black card collect dust. We have a deal," Lando says once we got into the car and had some privacy.

"It makes me feel like a prostitute when I spend your money because you're fucking me," I tell Lando making his laugh slightly.

"Probably the prettiest prositute I've ever scene," Lando jokes back making me hit his chest and mumble "probably"

When we pull into Lando's apartment parking garage I climb out of the car and grab a few of the bags from the back seat before Lando grabs the rest and leads us up to his apartment.

Once we got into the apartment I put my bags near the front door so I remembered to bring them home when I left later tonight or tomorrow morning.

Lando pulled me along like an impatient child into his room where he pulled me towards him and started kissing me.

"Fuck Lan," I moan when Lando found the sweet spot on my neck, he placed a few wet kisses on it before he sinks his teeth into my neck and sucks making sure to leave a mark I would have to cover up for the next several days.

"Make sure you remember who you belong to when I'm gone this weekend," Lando says while pulling my little summer dress off my body leaving me in just a skimpy thong since I hadn't put a bra on this morning.

When I was standing bare in front of Lando he pinches my nipples making my body jerk slightly and whimpering loudly when he twists my nipple.

"Such a responsive little thing," Lando mocks with a smirk before helping me step out of my panties where he pushes me onto the bed

Lando pulls his shirt off leaving him in his black jeans before climbing on top of me and starts placing soft kisses on my sensitive nipples before biting down on one of them making me whimper loudly.

Once Lando finally made it to my pussy he runs a few fingers through my folds with a smirk before shoving his soaked fingers into my mouth making me lick them clean of my own slick.

"Fuck Lan," I gasp when he shoves them back in and starts teasing my sensitive G-spot.

"Such a good little thing for me," Lando mumbles just before he leans down and pulls my clit into his mouth and sucking it into his moan.

"Oh fuck," I moan loudly while thrashing my hips slightly from the intense pleasure.

"Stop moving," Lando said slapping my thigh a few times making me whimper at the sting.

When Lando pulls my clit back into his mouth I can feel my orgasm starting to build again, making Lando speed up his actions bringing me right to the edge before pulling away to just watch me whine and beg.

"Please," I beg out through a loud whine. Lando just laughs in a mocking tone before roughly rubbing my clit for a few seconds just to watch me scream at the rough pleasure.

"Please, more," I start begging through pleasured tears needing more. Lando finally climbs off the bed and pulls his pants off where he climbs back into the bed and roughly shoves his cock deep into my pussy making me whine out when he doesn't give me any time to adjust to the intrusion.

"Lan," I cry out when he starts roughly thrusting.

"Stop crying and fucking take it," Lando says while speeding up his thrusts enjoying the way I was crying for me.

Lando could tell I was close to losing myself in the pleasure which has his bringing his hand down to my clit where he roughly starts rubbing it knowing I would start cumming soon.

"Go on, cum, I know you don't know how to use your words right now," Lando says instantly throwing me into a thrashing orgasm where I try to get away from the intense pleasure but Lando keeps fucking into me making my brain go numb only being able to think about the pleasure coursing through my body.

"Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock," Lando teases while moving his hand away from my clit letting me focus solely on the way he was thrusting against my sensitive G-spot.

"Lan," I moan out making Lando smirk.

"Awe, she speaks," Lando mocks making me scream when he starts thrusting harder and hotting my cervix each time he pushes all the way in.

"Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock," Lando says making me open my eyes and look down to see the bulge in my tummy each time Lando pushed all the way in.

"Ruined you for anyone else," Lando says with a small smirk on his face before pushing down on the bulge making me scream out when it adds more to the overwhelming pleasure.

"Cum," I mumble out softly not being able to think fully.

"Go on," Lando tells me making instantly start cumming all over his cock.

"Fuck I love the way your pussy squeezes me when you cum," Lando groans, just before he starts cumming deep in my pussy making me whine eat time a rope of cum hit the walls of my pussy.

"Fuck," Lando groans roughly still spilling his seed into me before softly slipping out and letting a few ropes of cum paint my tummy a little.

I was far too lost in my own pleasure I didn't even realize Lando had climbed out of bed and cleaned me up until he was climbing back into bed and pulling me into his chest and stroking my hair.

"Come back to me sweet girl," Lando says softly while placing soft kisses around my face.

"Mhm," I mumble against Lando's chest burying my face farther into his neck.

"Come on love," Lando says while pushing my chin up so he can look into my eyes.

"Are you okay?" Lando asks softly when he realizes I am starting to come back to earth.

"Yes," I whisper back to Lando before leaning up and pulling him in for a soft kiss.

"Look so pretty all blissed out," Lando tells me softly making me smile.

I cuddle more into Lando's chest allowing sleep to take over my body.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Monster, Inc. 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is an asshole, you know this. But what happens when he turns his wrath upon you? (plus!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, this reader is known as Missie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“Mr. Hansen,” you trill into the foyer, “I have your breakfast.” 

You ease shut the door behind you and pause to kick off your kitten heels on the mat. It’s one of those days your boss has decided to work from home but it doesn’t make your day any less jam-packed. You wait for an answer, not that you ever get one, and proceed. 

You go to his office and find it empty. You frown. You leave his breakfast on the oval island in the kitchen and bounce around to the bottom of the stairs, “Mr. Hansennnnn.” 

Nothing. You check your phone. By chance, had he changed his mind. Is he at the office waiting for his organic egg white wrap with spinach and feta? You don’t see any new emails or missed calls. You hum and teeter in indecision. You don’t go upstairs.  

You tap on Mr. Hansen, listed under your favourites, and put your phone to your ear. You wait and hear the distant ringtone. The line goes dead as the call is dismissed. You sigh and try again. What is he up to? The same thing. He declines your call and you shake your head at the echo of the curtailed ringtone. 

Fine, you can wait for him to come home. Sometimes, you feel like you’re looking after a spoiled child. He reminds you of your baby brother and how your mother would struggle to get him out of bed for school. Rami was always such a brat. 

If he takes a while, you’ll reheat the wrap in the air fryer. You surpass it and enter the laundry room. You put the dryer on fluff to refresh the load the maid left in there and pace around impatiently. You go through the RSVP requests for Mr. Hansen and decline those you know he’ll roll his eyes at. 

The dryer finishes its quick tumble and you fold the delicates into the waiting basket. You finish and carry the aromatic clothes out through the kitchen and to the bottom of the stairs. Again, you chirp up after Mr. Hansen. 

“I’m coming up with your laundry, sir,” you warn as you get no answer. 

You warily begin the ascent as you clutch the handles of the basket. You peer around the hall and continue on down towards the left. Slow, shuffling steps towards the slightly ajar door at the end. You go to set down the load by the door frame and the door swings open abruptly. 

“Missie!” Lloyd grabs you and pulls you inside as you squeal. “There the fuck you are.” 

“I called--” you choke as he keeps a hold of your arm and drags you across the bedroom, “sir, your breakfast is downstairs--” 

“Missie, shut up!” He snarls as he urges you on and you scramble to keep from tripping.  

He shoves you through another door and your hip hits the frame with a thump. You rub it as he lets you go and you turn to face him as he follows you in. The space is made brighter by the four bulbs under glass shades that shine over the mirrors. You reel as you try to steady yourself after his sudden seizure. 

You realise he’s in no more than a pair of silk black boxers, if you can call them that. They’re short enough that they barely touch his thighs. His thick muscular thighs. The elastic clings to his equally firm torso and you try not to show your discomfort. 

“Sir, what’s going on?” 

“Do you see it?” He turns and pulls a small round mirror closer as wiggles his upper lip. The mirror is attached to a bending arm and tilts all around. “Missie, tell me I’m seeing things.” 

He grabs your shoulder and points to his mustache with his other hand. Amid the sandy brown cluster of neatly trimmed hair is a single silver strand. It’s not very obvious unless you’re looking for it. 

“Uh, your mustache?” 

“The goddamn grey!” He snarls and shakes you, “this is all your fault.” 

“What?” You squeak, “my fault?” 

“That goddamn cake! Forty-six? Like you’re rubbing it in my face,” he lets you go and turns back to the large mirrors, leaning in to push out his upper lip with his tongue. He growls, “I hired you to lessen my stress so why the fuck is this--” He faces you again and points at his mustache, “happening?” 

“Sir, um, well, you could pluck it--” 

“Fuck off!” 

“Dye?” 

“Shut up! You stupid bimbo,” he snarls and crosses his arms, leaning against the marble counter, “I don’t need your stupid ideas.” 

“Yes, sir,” you nod, “ but, er, why... what did you need? I could bring your breakfast up--” 

He looks at you so sharply you swallow your question. He curls his lips and huffs. His eyes crawl down your body and he angles his head coyly. 

“You pull with that ass?” He scoffs. 

“Excuse me, sir--” 

“You heard me? Lotta of chubby chasers? Feeders? Weirdos?” He says. 

“Sir,” you resist a frown, your cheeks trembling, “that’s... not work.” 

“You’re on my dime, I’m asking, so it’s work,” he insists. He drops his chin and looks down at himself. He flexes his chest, “I know damn well you’re not getting grade A meat like this.” 

You avert your eyes and sniff, “sir, I’m single and not looking but I appreciate you asking.” 

“Ugh, are you always so annoyingly happy?” He sneers. 

“It’s a nice day, sir. Bright out. And you know, a lot of women would say that grey makes you more distinguished,” you suggest, “now your mustache matches your head.” 

His eyes dart back to you and he stands straight, “what?” 

“Well, er...” you gesture vaguely up, “you know...” you touch your temples. His are shaved but you can still see the lightness there, “er, nothing, sir. I’m just uhhhhh rambling. Anyway, I will go warm up your wrap--” 

He blocks you, jabbing you in the stomach as he corners you in the bathroom, “I don’t have gray hair.” 

“Sir, you don’t, I’m colour blind.” 

“I don’t,” he insists again. 

“No, sir, no greys.” 

“I fucking don’t,” he barks and turns to the mirror once more, touching the sides of his head. His eyes are fiery in his reflection and scale over to you again, “get the fuck out!” 

“Sir,” you smile and cheek twitches. Oof. It isn’t going to be an easy day. 

[silverstonesainz-archive]

home

─── "you're home" "i'm home."

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

It’s nearly midnight when Carlos gets home. Most of the lights are off, save one lamp in the living room, and the light over the kitchen island where dinner is waiting for him. It’s quiet, only the sound of his own footsteps echoing throughout the house. He drops his bags by the couch, trudging into the next room to see what was wrapped so nicely on the counter. 

A blue post-it on the wrap over the food, your elegant writing in black ink. I’m so gnocchi to have you. He can’t help the smile on his lips, an amused breath through his nose at the cheesy pun. He plucks the note from its place, slipping it into his back pocket. It’s gnocchi with tomatoes, spinach, and red sauce– arguably one of his favorites that you make. He leans against the counter, undoing the clear wrap before diving into his meal. It’s the little things you do for him to welcome him home, even if you were sound asleep in the room down the hall. Like leaving the lights on, dinner, and undoubtedly the covers half pulled back. It’s the little things that help him feel a little better about the weekend behind him.

Carlos washes the dishes quietly, placing them carefully into the dishwasher before finally making his way to the bedroom. His fingers grip the door knob, slowly turning and opening the door. It creaks, it always creaks. He cringes at the sound, taking a mental note to fix it like he promised all those months ago. You don’t stir at the sound, but Piñon does. The dog lifts his head from his place at the foot of the bed, tilted ever so slightly as he watches Carlos try to close the door without making a sound. He tiptoes to the bathroom, shutting the door before flicking on the lights. 

His reflection stares at him, tired and begging for refuge in the covers and you. But he hops into the shower first, because as much as you love him, you hate the smell of the airplane even more. He pulls the little post-it from his pocket, sticking it onto the counter before dropping his clothes into the hamper and stepping into the shower. Hot water beats down on his aching muscles, sliding down the expanse of his back. He picks up his body wash, scrubbing every inch of himself before he rinses away the suds and steps out. It’s a quick night routine– brush his teeth and a bit of moisturizer that you insist he use. Oh and floss, always floss.

 It’ll keep your skin from drying out since you fly so much. He smiles at the memory of you sliding the bottle to him one morning, waiting expectantly for him to rub it into his skin. He’s on his second bottle now. 

Carlos picks up the note before he shuts off the bathroom lights and makes his way back into the bedroom. You’re still asleep, chest rising softly and hair sprawled across your face. Your head is turned away from him, left arm outstretched ever so slightly. And just as he had expected, the covers are half pulled back on his side of the bed, a warm welcome waiting for him. He only stares for a moment longer, his heart expanding in his chest at the sight of you. Sometimes he doesn’t think it’s true, that you’re but a figment of his imagination. But you’re not, and he wakes every day, grateful that you’re right there with him. He holds his breath, watching as you move deeper in the covers, completely unaware of how he looks upon you with so much love.

He doesn’t climb into bed quite yet, instead hovering over his nightstand as he opens a drawer and pulls out an old box that used to hold one of his watches. He lifts the cover, slipping in the blue post-it on top of a pile of sweet love notes you left him throughout your relationship. It’s his little secret, he’ll show you his collection one day maybe. When he’s put it back in its place, he finally slides into bed. He pulls the covers over his body before his arm slings over your torso to pull you against him. 

It’s almost instinctual the way you turn in his hold, face immediately nuzzling into his chest and inhaling deeply. He stifles a chuckle, instead holding you tighter against him. His fingers move into your hair, massaging your scalp as you blow warm air out of your nose against his bare chest. He feels a trace of your smile against his skin, the soft pucker of your lips as you press a tired kiss at the top of his chest. It’s your little habit, your special greeting when you see him after being apart for some time. Whether one hour or one week, it’s always the same– your nose pressing into his chest, usually after a kiss to his lips. 

“You’re home.” your voice scratches your throat, thick with sleep and relief. He feels your body relax against him, breathing slow as you slip back to sleep. 

Carlos presses a kiss against the top of your head, lips lingering to leave a bit more love over you. “I’m home.”

NOTE: clearly, i'm down bad. anyways ive been rotting away on this and i hope you like it. as always, feedback is always appreciated.

wanna be notified for new releases?

[st4rbwrry]

LUV THIS SHIT | eren yeager.

‍ ‍ ☆. warnings — 3.1k. fem!reader, eren’s pent up from working out, asmr sexting, submissive reader, impact play [ face smack, spanking ] public arousal, indecent behavior, mating press, f!oral, fingering, profanity, established relationship, lots of making out, unprotected sex, eren’s aggressive, floor sex, riding, creampie, artist!reader, pet names, reader has black features, minors aren't allowed! 

‍ merry christmas! ♡

eren starts his day the same every morning. the alarm goes off at six o'clock which is never your favorite thing to hear considering you're not an early bird. usually groaning in your state of sleep and tugging the blankets away from him after he kisses you on your forehead and steps out of bed. you always snuggle on his side before the warmth he created grows cold. proceeds to take a steaming hot shower, tilting his neck back to let the heavy beats of water dampen his long hair. lathers his body with african black soap you picked up from a shop while SONDER plays from his speaker, careful not to blast it too loud to wake you up. it's your off day so he's respecting your wishes to hibernate all day.

he honestly hates leaving you alone in bed. sue him but being your little spoon is the best thing he's ever known. he's never slept so good in his life until he met you. never knew it felt so comfortable being in another persons arms. eren’s next step is to dress for the gym, the only reason he's up this early three times out of the week. a dark gray towel is wrapped low around his slim waist, tatted chest and arms running with water droplets as he wipes the foggy mirror clear to see his reflection. washing his face with a kale, spinach, and green tea cleanser along with brushing his teeth, cleaning his tongue with a scraper and gargling mouthwash. he forgets to do this backwards sometimes considering he has to eat first. the taste lingers and makes his food nasty.

afterwards, he’s moisturizing his face with cerave healing ointment and his pouty cotton candy lips with one of your babylips sticks. lathering his body in vaseline coca butter lotion and slipping on a olive green colored sweatpants with a black cropped metallica muscle tank, wrapping a matching black bandanna over the top of his towel-dried chestnut hair. he spritz this cologne you picked up at the mall when thinking of him called art deco amberwood by clive christian. makes you fall to your knees to suck him off every time now that he thinks about it.

by then it's near seven and he's down in the kitchen with his black airpod max’s over his ears listening to jazz while he blends his smoothie with spinach, kale, strawberries, blueberries, and pineapples. he gulps that down after filling a mason jar completely. and for further consumption, he makes avocado toast topped with chia seeds, himalayan salt and pepper and two strips of bacon each.

before he leaves he makes sure to run back up the stairs to double check on you to see if you needed anything before he left such as picking up a coffee from dunkin or anything from the art supply store. he peaks his head through the door to see you sprawled out, mouth open and snoring peacefully, cuddling his pillow. he smiles to himself, mumbling ‘my pretty girl’ before quietly tiptoeing close to the king-sized bed with satin sheets to give you a kiss or two before heading out, moving your bonnet aside to whisper that he loves you.

he's got his gym bag and his car keys when he leaves, taking the elevator down the parking lot of the loft you two live in, three years now. he finds his car parked directly next to yours. cute. the pretty wolf gray kia k5 besides his onyx lexus rc 300. there's a gym located in the building but he prefers the one your brother owns a few minutes out of the area.

it's around ten o'clock when you fully wake up, missing his presence already and pouting about it before heading to the shower yourself. sitting in a towel for a full hour stuck on tiktok and getting a craving for samyang carbonara noodles and rice cakes. it's really the only thing that made you leave the house today, throwing on a pair of eren’s gray nike shorts you had to roll up to properly sit on your hips, and a black tank, jewelry remaining on your skin everyday from layered necklaces to multiple bracelets. 

you're sitting in the starbucks drive thru which has an incredibly long line but you're not minding the wait, craving a pink drink suddenly. the sun was hitting nicely into your car so you decide to take photos to pass a little time, thumb slipping and accidentally opening the voice memos app with only four recordings, one of them fairly new. created about two weeks ago and you vaguely remember that night. it's about an hour and fifteen minutes long

'luv this shit <3’ is what it's titled. not remembering exactly how it went. you and eren only used this app whenever you're having sex, meaning those four audios were strictly nsfw. you bite your lip in curiosity, deciding to press play to hear it, flinching when you hear how loud you were screaming on top of forgetting that your phone is connected to your cars bluetooth. you swallow in panic, turning it off and sitting back in silence, twiddling your fingers, becoming impatient with the line now because you wanted to hear it. it had to be something the two of you made when you were intoxicated. or else you would've remembered it.

you've retrieved your pink drink, and now it was time to park, too impatient to wait and hear this. sipping your drink, you get comfortable, holding your phones speaker to your ear and pressing play yet again. there's music playing in the background, luv this shit by august alsina in specific, now you knew where the title came from. probably eren’s doing. a rush of heat swarms your cheeks and gut as you hear your boyfriend’s voice, deep and stern as he talks to you while skin connects and your moans overshadow the music. the sound of you kissing wetly makes you shift in your seat, feeling his soft lips on yours at the moment. you loved kissing him.

it lasts for about two minutes before eren’s voice becomes louder than yours when he's fucking you hard, your voice muffled by your hand you assume, doing that a lot since you think you're too loud. “let me fuckin’ hear it,” there's his voice again, unconsciously whimpering along with yourself in the audio. eren’s whining with you, the two of you gasping and listening to how wet you were. a loud smack erupts and you're crying his name, the memory slowly coming back. he smacked your face. the jewelry on his wrist prominent when he does it again, this time it's the outside of your thigh.

“rennnnnn! fuh-uuck.”

“i hear you, baby. come on, come on, come on, cum, cum, cum.” with every thrust he gets louder, hissing as your pussy constricts around his dick. “that's it, pretty. yeah.”

you nearly spill your drink over your lap, the cup slowly slipping from your grip after you zoned out, catching it quick and collecting yourself, setting it in the cup holder. you need to leave. actually, you need to send this to him. he has to be done at the gym by now. then again, you're never sure with him. the man could work out all day if he wanted.

being risky, you grin, pulling up his contact and sending him the audio, following with a text that said . . .

NEW MESSAGE

kuromi princess hello kitty baby star ♡

don't we sound pretty? <3

follicles of eren's hair stick to his sweaty forehead, putting it up before he started his workout, going on for about three hours now. RICH FLEX blasts in his headphones. the neckline of his top is doused with sweat, removing the boxing gloves off his hands to sit down and gulp a full bottle of water. checking his phone, he sees your message. lifting his brow at the audio you had sent, reading your response, and clicking it without hesitating. immediately when he hears your desperate pleading and skin smacking, his pupils dilate, clenching his jaw and checking his surroundings. not many people were in this area of the gym.

“fuck me, baby. fuck me, baby. fuck me, babyyy,” eren listens with wide eyes as he hears your pretty moans, skipping through the audio to hear bits and pieces.

“yeah, speak to me like that.”

eren grows shamelessly aroused from what he's hearing, swallowing hard and shifting his dick back in place, breathing heavier. he's mad at you. mad because you know he's in public and he gets easily turned on by anything regarding you. whether it be your scent, your smile, your eyes, or your fucking voice. when you talk, or scream his name. it's all the same. he's triggered by it all. and you know this, so why test him? not to mention the two of you haven't been sexually active because you've been caught up with work and painting and he's been working doubles. the only time you spend together is brief mornings in bed or one day weekends, usually sleeping all day or being lazy.

all he can think of this moment is fucking you rough and raw. gathering his belongings without another thought and sending you a brief text.

pretty boy ren <3

yea, okay.

it's so stressful walking with a hard dick, and eren really can't wait until he gets home to fuck you up. such a dirty girl needing to be put in place. he forgets his headphones have noise cancellation, so when he's speeding home like a dummy, music continues to thrum in his ears, acting like a complete madman. exactly five minutes before he enters the apartment, you're sitting in your usual corner of the loft where you've made your art station. sitting on the ground while incense flows and sza’s new album plays soundly. a canvas laying on the ground where you sat on a cushion, finger painting a collage of the weeknd’s discography since it's the 11th anniversary for echoes of silence. unaware of the message you received.

that is until you hear the familiar sound of keys jangling and in a matter of seconds, the front door flies open, there standing a big, tall, visibly irritated man. your eyes go wide from seeing him, eren kicking off his shoes, heavy feet stomping towards you and you sit up with curiosity, trying your hardest to hide your devious smile. you knew it'd have that effect on him. eren’s hot hand grabs your jaw fervently, clenching his before yanking your face close to his to connect your lips in a heated kiss. smacking his lips roughly over yours, moaning into his mouth, his eyes focused on your face as you close your eyes too comfortably for his liking. as if you're not in trouble for the shit you pulled.

your hands kept to yourself on either side of his wide shoulders, eren dragging you down to lay on your back onto the cushion you previously sat on, slipping off the black panties covering your neglected pussy, weeping, and waiting for him to get home to do exactly this. staring up at him with glee in your eyes, it's the opposite in his. he can't hear a thing you say because of his headphones, not bothering to toss them off because the only thing on his mind is sliding his dick inside of you and getting his nut off.

raising your knees without his help, he's pushing them further up to your chest, folding you still before arching his neck to release globs of spit onto your cunt three times max, each one emitting a ‘puh’ sound. you clench from his dirty act. his big body hovers over yours, heavy dick practically drenched in precum resting on your mound before eren angles his hips to slip into you. he doesn't give you time to brace yourself, gasping as he groans and thrusts his hips fast, your skin clapping and body jerking under him. beautiful green irises switching darker as he stares into your soul, your moans faintly being heard.

“think you fuckin slick, baby?” eren rasps, your mouth agape, his grip on your thighs harsh. “did that shit on purpose just so i can fuck that pretty pussy stupid on my cock, right?”

“y-yess,” he watches you nod drunkenly, your hands digging on your sides into the rug beneath you. every pound into your slick pussy vibrates into your throat, following his rhythm. happy tears brim your eyes.

“s’okay. ‘cause i got something for you.”

his pace hastens, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he drills deep, jackhammering almost, like a needy, inexperienced boy. your cunts squelching loud, hand pressing at his abdomen in attempt to slow him down but he only fucks you harder, air knocking from your lungs. it's so fucking hot the way he's handling you right now, like he's been so deprived of you for so long he couldn't stand it. couldn't even take his clothes fully off, keeping every piece on because he needed you that badly.

“ooh, i'm fucking cumming. ssss, fuck,” eren moans. you squeal as eren takes both your arms and crosses them over your tummy, holding them there while he puts his weight on you and grunts in your face. sweat dampening his bandanna, breath mixing with yours as he cums inside you. coating your walls with thick spurts of white. your knees buckle from the feeling, his lower halve twitching from the rush.

eren licks his lips, stilling his movements to take a breather, knocking back one of the ears to his airpods to hear how desperate you sound, slowly pulling his dick out, still hard.

“eren, i didn't cum,” you whine, squirming with an attitude.

“i think i knew that.”

you put your middle finger up to him for his smart ass tone, eren arching a brow and scooping you up without another word. smiling, you cling to him as he moves towards the couch, deciding to stay seated on the floor, lifting you so you sit on his lap. his cock resting on his stomach where you're able to see toned abs and a dark, neatly trimmed happy trail to match your cute brazilian strip all cause of that slutty, grunge crop top he has on. his back rests against the furniture. you take the initiative to remove these stupid headphones so you could put your hands and mouth around his neck.

“i don’t think you understand how much i thought about fuckin’ you today. you really fuckin’ don’t.” eren lands a heavy hand on your ass causing you to jump and scoot forward from leaning back on his knees. “could barely fucking focus. all because you sent me that shit.”

“and because you miss me,” you whisper, delicately skimming your lips over his, arching into him as he spreads your ass cheeks apart after smoothing over them. spanking you hard on either side until you gasp into his mouth and he could kiss you again.

“sink on it real slow,” eren taps your clit with the tip to say he wants it done now. sucking on your lip, you raise yourself till he's kissing the entrance and gently easing down, indenting crescent moons into his broad shoulders momentarily. dragging your hands to your waist, you rub over your body, hissing and throwing your head back, feeling a storm of euphoria fuel you. eren hums in fascination as you lose yourself in the bond.

“g’na say sorry with your pussy, baby?” eren taunts in a baby-like tone.

“mhmm,” what eren wants, eren gets. and if he wanted you to ride his dick you were going to. getting up on the tips of your toes and rode only on the tip first, eren choking on his spit with brows furrowed and praising you. soon, inching lower to bounce yourself up and down to his liking, being sure to clench your walls a little tighter just to hear him whine. when eren gets really feral he gets really loud. unable to control what his vocal cords let out. he used to think it was embarrassing, but the two of you have shared enough time together to dismiss judgment. he sounds so pretty when he's getting fucked good.

“shit, you keep fuckin’ me like that m’ not gonna last,” ignoring him, you continue to clap your ass down, skin interaction picking back up, eren’s hands on your hips just for leverage. he never needs to guide you. a few squeezes occasionally since he's so sensitive. painfully aroused it makes no sense.

“i can't last long,” you warn, pawing at his chest as you raise your ass and fuck him faster, eren moaning and helping you out by pounding up into you. you fall forward into his arms, yanking you down each time you'd rise back up. smacking your ass just to hear your voice pick up. “eren, fuck baby!”

“unh huh, keep goin’,” eren’s face scrunches up, whining in your ear while keeping one of his tatted arms wrapped around your backside. your thighs begin to burn but you know stopping isn't an option when he sounds that good in your ear. eren gets aggressive and hits into you harder, same time ass you drop down with more force, tugging at his hair and he whimpers your name.  “keep that shit up, baby. yeahh.”

it feels so good you start crying, missing this so much. holding onto him for dear life as he somehow moves quicker, slouching in his spot so his neck settles back onto the couch, slipping his right hand under your right thigh and raising his hips to fuck up into you, lifting you like you're one of his weights at the gym. you watch as he mumbles ‘fuck’ with his eyes scrolled back and mouth wide open, jawline sharp, and adam’s apple in his throat prominent. he looked so fucking good right now you just had to kiss his neck. eren hitting that spot so good you can't control yourself from screaming, mouthing at his neck and leaving hickeys. he smells good, hints of musk and that damn cologne you love, feels good, looks even better. then wonders why you act the way you did. he’s made a monster.

“you fuck me so good, ‘ren. love you so much, missed you so much,” at this point you're babbling, saying anything that comes from your brain mindlessly. it's enough to make eren bellow streams of curses before hiking your ass off and nutting over your back, eren releasing a high-pitched gasp as he stares up at the ceiling in a daze. vision blurry. 

before you complain, eren’s lifting you higher and scoots further down to sit you on his face, hot mouth munching on your soaked cunt with puffy lips. your eyes cross and you scream into the air, gripping the couch as he slides two fingers, middle and pointer, deep into your hole, thrusting while his fat tongue laps at your clit, silver cuban link on his wrist cold on your stomach. he's swallowing your arousal like he's drinking a glass of water, moaning into your pussy and spanking your ass with his unoccupied hand.

“oh my . . .  god,” you're breathless as you cum, legs twitching and squealing from the intensity of your orgasm, losing balance and falling forward. eren smirks and smacks your ass one last time before moving from below you, sitting on his knees behind you and pushing your back down to fix your arch, turning your head to face him, fucked out face staring at him like he was crazy for putting his dick back inside you. you already feel so sore. 

eren arches his brow. “oh, you thought i was done?” 

[hoshiputa]

You're mine

💌 S.Coups x female reader

📩 Request: Toxic jealous S.Coups

cw: nsfw, established relationship, jealous!scoups, slight angst, name calling, exhibitionism, arguing, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, piv sex, creampie

word count: 2.2k

It all started when your boyfriend called out for you and then stood at the edge of the pool with an open wide towel. It was summer and not cold at all, but you thought it was cute, so you just let Seungcheol wrap you up with the soft fabric.

“What's up, babe?” You asked softly, giving him a quick kiss.

“Nothing, I just wanted you to get out of there.”

You frowned with confusion, your boyfriend shooting deadly stares at every single person out there.

“What? Why?”

When you unwrapped the towel from you to use it to dry your hair, Seungcheol took it and covered you again, impatiently wrapping the towel around your body.

“Cheol…?” You started.

“Why did you have to wear such a tiny bikini?”

“Excuse me?!” You chuckled, towel resting on top of your shoulders. “I was swimming, Seungcheol.”

“But you could be wearing shorts or something,” he argued. “And don't call me Seungcheol.”

Your boyfriend had always been protective over all, but not actually jealous. Most of the time, he just trusted the fact he was a black belt in taekwondo and was training jiu-jitsu if someone ever approached you. Okay, he always had something to say about you wearing revealing or short clothing, but most of the time you just ignored it.

“You wanted me to wear shorts to the pool?”

“Yeah, what's so shocking about it?”

Your boyfriend sighed with frustration, eyebrows furrowed as he ran his hand through his hair, damp from his previous dive. He looked like a sin, exposed chest and swim shorts hanging low from his hips.

“You're just saying anything,” you scoffed, giving him back the towel. “I'm getting a drink.”

“No, I think you should dress up.”

You had just turned your back to walk towards the house, but turned back around after hearing those words.

“What?”

“It's too small,” he said as if it was obvious. “Put on some shorts or change for another bikini.”

“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” you chuckled.

Walking inside the house your boyfriend and his friends rented to spend summer, you went to the kitchen, finding a shirtless Seokmin chopping something by the sink.

“Hey, are you hungry?” He asked as you opened the fridge. “Mingyu is grilling meat. I'm preparing a salad.”

He proudly showed you a bowl full of perfectly chopped lettuce and spinach, thinly sliced cucumbers and purple onions, a wide smile on his face as you popped a soda can.

“Great job,” you gave him a thumbs up. “Should I be scared that you're this good with a knife?”

Seokmin laughed, loud as usual, making you laugh along with him as you stood by his side to watch him cut up something else.

“What's so funny?”

Seungcheol's voice made you sigh, and as he walked inside the kitchen, Seokmin's smile slowly faded as soon as he saw the older man's expression. You turned around to stare at your boyfriend, leaning against the kitchen's sink.

“Seokmin was just talking about his salad,” you said.

“And you're shitting your pants from that?”

“Cheol, we're not gonna do this,” you said firmly. “If you have a problem, say it out loud like an adult.”

“I just said and you turned your back at me,” he argued.

“No, you—”

“Guys,” Seokmin said softly.

“You never listen to me anyway,” Seungcheol shrugged.

“I'll listen if you stop talking nonsense.”

“Nonsense?!” He stepped closer to you, staring into your eyes. “You think it's nonsense?”

“Cheol—”

“Shut up, Seokmin,” he gave his friend a deadly stare. “It's none of your business.”

“Don't talk to him like that,” you said, frowning. “God, what's gotten into you today?!”

“I'll talk to people however the fuck I want.”

Seungcheol was standing just a few inches away from you, eyes fiercely staring into yours.

“Okay, but he doesn't have anything to do with this—”

“Why are you defending him anyways?” Seungcheol got even closer, lips now inches away from yours. “I bet you're getting off from knowing everyone here wants to fuck you, right?”

Your jaw dropped, and you weren't sure if you wanted to cry or punch your boyfriend in the face.

“Dude, what are you saying?” Seokmin was just as shocked as you. “I would never— No one here would ever look at your girlfriend that way.”

“Oh, miss me with the bullshit,” Seungcheol stepped away, turning his back.

Knowing him pretty well, stepping away meant he was trying not to lose his temper.

“I'm actually offended that you think of me that way,” Seokmin said.

“Ignore it, he's just being insane,” you told your friend, turning back to the sink. “Go back to your salad.”

“I'm being insane?” Seungcheol said, sarcastic smile on his face. “Then why is he popping jokes every five minutes to get your attention? It's not the first time today.”

“That's just who I am?” Seokmin said with confusion. “If you don't want anyone here to talk to your girlfriend then you shouldn't have invited her.”

Seungcheol went towards Seokmin, staring into the other's eyes.

“Don't think I won't beat you up just because we're friends,” he threatened. “Keep up with your shit and you'll see what happens.”

“I think you should calm down,” you said, pushing your boyfriend away.

Seokmin stood there motionless, not because he was scared, but because he probably felt betrayed that his long term friend didn't trust him.

When Seungcheol looked at you, he was almost foaming at the mouth as he spoke in between teeth.

“I'll calm down once you get fucking dressed.”

Seungcheol didn't even raise his voice. He didn't have to. If it was anyone else, they would've already pissed their pants and went home crying. But that was your boyfriend for three years now, you knew exactly how things worked with him. So you went to the living room, Seungcheol right behind you.

“They're literally your friends. And everyone has been nothing but respectful—”

“Oh, yeah, I saw how respectfully Wonwoo stared at your ass when you got out of the pool,” he said sarcastically.

“I'm sure he didn't do that.”

“I literally saw it!”

“Okay, whatever, why does it matter?” You shrugged. “It's not like he tried anything or—”

“Why does it matter? You must have lost your fucking mind.” He sneered at you.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” You said with irritation, voice slightly raising.

“I just don't want them looking at your body.”

“You're fucking crazy,” you said nonchalantly. “We're swimming. It's summer. People wear bikinis.”

“I didn't fucking ask,” Seungcheol looked scarily calm. “Go put on some clothes.”

You laughed sarcastically, still not believing his words.

“I'm not changing just because you're insecure.”

That seemed to make him snap. If his eyes could turn red, they would've. Seungcheol slowly got closer, eyes glued to yours.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“That's where jealousy comes from. Insecurity,” you shrugged.

Seungcheol grabbed you by the chin, lips inches away from yours.

“Get upstairs.”

You laughed at his face.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

“You're getting upstairs because I fucking told you so,” he spat the words. “Otherwise I'll take you out and fuck you right in front of everyone since you like to show-off so much.”

Your body temperature raised as you stared into your boyfriend's eyes, his words echoing in the back of your head. It was a pattern you had to work on; every time he got angry, it went straight down your pussy, thighs clenching and all.

“Oh, did I upset you, Cheollie?”

Your lips crashed, your boyfriend eager as his hands grabbed tight around your waist, pushing his body against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, Seungcheol's hand gripping so tight at your ass it made you moan against his lips.

“Cheol—” You gasped as he sucked at the skin in your neck. “Let's go upstairs—”

“Now you want to go upstairs?”

Seungcheol held tighter around your waist, pushing you against the sofa. You laid down with your heart racing, your boyfriend getting on top of you with a devilish smirk on his lips.

“Wait— What if someone sees us?”

“Isn't that what you want?” He leaned down, lips pressed to your ear. “My pretty little attention whore.”

Shivers went down your spine as he bit on your neck, gasps escaping from your lips and your shaking hands going through his hair. He sucked on your skin hard enough to leave marks, heat growing in between your legs.

“Seriously— Ah!”

Seungcheol had pulled your bikinis top to the sides, exposing your boobs to suck on your nipples.

“Weren't you all over Wonwoo? You won't mind if he sees me sucking your tits, will you?”

“Please— Not here—”

“Wow, you're polite all of a sudden?”

Your boyfriend slipped his hand inside your bikini bottom as you desperately put your top back in place, looking over your head at the giant glass window from where the sun came in and you could see the pool.

Fortunately, they were probably all gathered outside at the table by the grill, but if anyone decided they wanted to go swimming, you'd be fucked. Not in a good way.

“Cheol, what if—”

Seungcheol started rubbing your clit, your cunt getting wet in seconds as you gripped onto his shoulders.

“I'm just gonna show you how insecure I am,” he smirked, fingers brushing at your entrance.

“Let's go—”

You were stopped by your boyfriend untying one side of your bikini bottoms, pulling the rest to the side and exposing you right in the middle of the living room in a house where six other people could walk in at any moment.

“Shit, don't—”

You swallowed dry as Seungcheol started moving down, hands softly caressing your hips before he went down in between your legs, leaving open mouth kisses in your inner thighs.

“Fuck, no…” You moaned, his fingers playing with your cunt.

“Are you scared Seokmin might see us?”

Seungcheol's lips were really close to your cunt when he spoke, his warm breathing hitting against your core, making your toes curl.

“Anyone could see us—”

Your hand almost smacked your mouth when Cheol wrapped his lips around your folds, sucking hard on your clit, slurping your juices. Your legs trembled as you looked up once again, then at the kitchen’s door, waiting for someone to walk in.

Cheol didn't seem to care, wet sounds from his lips against your dripping cunt taking over the room as you pressed your hand tight against your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

“You looked really pretty with this bikini,” his tongue brushed against your entrance. “But your wet pussy looks better. And they can't have it.”

Cheol pushed one of his fingers inside your cunt, softly stretching your entrance. Your back arched, your heart skipping a beat when you heard Mingyu's laugh, followed by Seokmin's high pitched scream.

“Oh, God—” You whispered.

Giving in, you held tight onto your boyfriend's hair, shoving his face harder into your wet cunt to try to make him go faster. Instead of working harder, he simply grabbed one of your calves and placed your leg on top of his shoulder.

With your pussy spread out to him, you let Cheol’s finger fuck into you as his tongue sucked on your clit so hard you felt your soul almost leaving your body.

“Babe— A room—” You whined.

Cheol surprised you by pushing a second finger in, still sucking hard at your clit, heat pooling down your core as you squirmed under him. Losing yourself, you closed your eyes and let him stretch you out, his fingers hitting just right as you gripped onto the sofa's armrest. Cheol’s soft lips felt like heaven, especially when he started moving his head faster.

You just didn't expect him to pull out his cock and shove into you without a warning, his thickness stretching you out so good you let a loud and clear moan escape from your lips.

Desperate, you once again looked around, checking every exit and window, your friends nowhere to be seen.

“What? Want them to watch me fucking you?”

Seungcheol grabbed your chin, making you stare into his eyes, and when you held tight around his neck and wrapped your legs around his hips, it was just you, him, and the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You got lost into the sensation of his thick tip hitting deep, every thrust making you bite hard onto your own lip to keep quiet.

“You're. All. Mine.”

Every pause of his previous words turned into a hard, deep pound, your legs turning into jelly as you opened yourself even more to him. You didn't want to open your eyes, because you were pretty sure you'd end up seeing a crowd watching your boyfriend fuck you into oblivion, anxiety mixing with the feeling of your walls tightening around your boyfriend's big cock.

“Fuck—” You whispered, scratching his back. “Cheol— I'm—”

Your back arched as the wave of pleasure hit you like a punch in the stomach, leaving you breathless and almost paralyzed as Seungcheol started thrusting even harder, your sensitive clit and walls pulsing. You held onto him as you felt Cheol's cock fill you up with his cum, leaking as he kept thrusting until there was nothing left.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “That's what you needed, right?”

Seungcheol grabbed your face, your cheeks squeezed into his hand as he breathed hard while staring deeply into your eyes.

“Never forget you're mine.”

[andypantsx3]

HOME, SAFE, YOURS : TODOROKI SHOUTO x READER

CONTENT & WARNINGS: pro hero au, gender neutral reader, established relationship, care-taking, aged-up characters, smut (reader gives shouto a shower handjob), 18+ minors please dni!

WORD COUNT: 2k

Shouto looks worn as he toes off his boots in the genkan.

It's not the first time your boyfriend has come home looking tired, and it's thankfully nothing like the bone-deep exhaustion that always pulls at him after a truly harrowing shift. But it's very clear Shouto has stretched himself today, judging by the slightly slower, more ginger way he's carrying himself.

Drawing closer, you can see dirt and ash scraped over his high cheekbones, and that much confirms your suspicions. Definitely a tough take down today, if he's looking this beat up.

"Hi Sho," you say, hurrying over to throw your arms around him, relieved to have him back in your hands. It's a little easier with the height the genkan step gives you, putting his broad shoulders in easier reach. "Tough day today?"

Shouto's arms come around you as he presses his face into your shoulder, breathing in deeply. He's cold, the chill from outside still lingering on his clothes, on his skin. He smells like ash and sweat.

"Hello, love," he says, his voice a low rumble you can feel against you. "It was... difficult."

You grip him tighter, holding him to you. "I'm glad you're safe."

His mouth is warm on the skin of your neck. "I am glad to come home to you."

A smile pulls at your mouth as you pet through his hair. It's soft and silky, but a little piecey—the after effect of having used phosphor, you know. You spend a couple moments absently running your fingers through the strands, clinging to as much of his shoulder as you can reach, reveling in the feeling of him back in your embrace, home safe where you like him best.

Shouto lets you hold him, face still pressed into the crook of your neck, the line of tension in his shoulders unwinding. His breath tickles your skin, slow and even. You cling just a little bit more tightly.

"Let's get some soup in you and get you in the shower, huh?" you say after you've stood like that for some minutes, your voice a little startling in the quiet of your apartment. You lightly tug on a hunk of his hair, inquiring.

Shouto doesn't move, just huffs softly into your shoulder.

You can't help but grin again, charmed by him as always, shifting so you can clutch his face in your hands and pull him up for a kiss instead. This time Shouto goes easily, his mouth following yours, his kiss soft and sweet and slow.

Shouto takes his time with you, so you do too, pouring your relief and your happiness to see him again into the kiss. His hands tighten on your back like he understands, hitching you up against him a bit more firmly.

"Soup time," you tell him when he finally lets your mouth go. Those heterochromatic eyes flutter open, and he frowns a little bit, leaning back in.

You smile into another kiss, laughing when his hands creep down your sides, charting a path to your thighs where you know he intends to pick you up once he's got you. Any other day and you'd let him take you against the wall right there in the genkan. But he's moving so slow you know it will be a struggle for him today, and you don't want him to strain himself any more than he already has.

There are other ways you can show your affection, today.

You quickly worm out of his embrace, dodging when he reaches out a long-fingered hand for you, frowning again. Fuck, he's so cute.

"Soup first," you order him, marching him into the kitchen.

A tiny pout purses his mouth but you're not to be deterred—you set him up at the table with a hot bowl of soup and several of last night's leftover sides; blanched spinach ohitashi and simmered squash. You plop an extra bowl of chicken and cucumber marinade directly in front of his soup as well—knowing full well he'll need the extra protein after a day like today.

As you hoped, the food quickly overtakes your boyfriend's focus. In your experience pro heroes need to intake an insane amount of calories, and even more on days they've utilized their quirks to the extreme. Shouto is no exception, his temperature quirk one of the most voracious energy burners of all, and very quickly the bowls in front of him begin to empty.

He looks even more exhausted when he finishes, and you wolf down your own bowl of soup, cutting him off as he attempts to clear the table.

"Go shower," you tell him, leaning down for a kiss even as you yank a bowl out of his long, elegant fingers.

Shouto looks up at you again, a microscopic downturn to his mouth that would be unreadable on anyone else, but on him counts as a pout. "You said after soup—"

"I'll join you when I'm done," you promise, your heart swelling with affection. It always pleases you that time with you seem to be his priority, even when he's clearly tired like this.

You laugh when this works like a charm, Shouto leaning in for another kiss before obeying. You hear the shower gutter and hiss on as you scrub the bowls in the sink, laying everything out to dry on the counter.

The bathroom is already hot and thick with steam when you let yourself in, and the mirror fogging. Shouto's left the curtain askew and your mouth dries out a little at the peeks of his body you can see—all that lean, sleek muscle glinting wetly in the light.

You step out of your clothes and slide in behind him, throwing an arm around his waist. His shoulders look especially broad in the small stall of your shower, taking up nearly the entire width, and you lean up to kiss in between them, letting your mouth linger.

"Hello, love," Shouto says, trying to turn to look at you. You hold him in place with your grip on his trim waist, reaching up to run a hand through the wet strands of his hair.

"Let me take care of you tonight," you say, pouring your insistence into your tone.

There's not much you can do to help Shouto with a job like pro heroics, particularly without a quirk of your own. But what you can do, what you like to do, is be there for him in the little ways—feeding him soup, washing his hair, taking the reigns when he's tired like this.

The contraction of Shouto's abdomen under your fingers as he sucks in a breath tells you he's understood your meaning. He shifts in your arms to face you, ducking in for a hard, wet kiss. Hot water spatters over your shoulder as he does so, pooling in the places where his skin meets yours.

You let him kiss you, slow and careful. Then you reach past him to uncap his shampoo, and rake it carefully through the strands of his hair, as Shouto obligingly keeps his head bent for you. You admire the way his long eyelashes flutter against his high cheekbones, the way his lovely mouth looks so soft and relaxed like this.

You take your time, moving slowly and carefully, before reaching for his conditioner. You slowly massage that in too, blinking against the water on your face when Shouto pulls you closer to him, pressing his face into your shoulder and huffing out another relaxed breath.

He could be asleep standing up by the time you move onto his his body wash, but he shivers as you run your hands over him. You love the feeling of him in your hands, all that slick, tight, dense muscle under your fingers.

He's so beautiful, so divinely-crafted. Sometimes you cannot believe Todoroki Shouto is yours to love and to care for.

His breath comes a little faster when your hands slide down his trim waist, as you work the suds into the V of his hips. "Love," he says, his voice low, rumbling.

"Turn around," you tell him, gently reaching up to move him as you do so.

You let your hands slide back in place, and then let them slip lower, taking Shouto into your hand. He's velvet soft in your fingers, but obligingly hard, thick and full—and even though you can't see him, you know just how pretty he looks in your palm. You press a kiss to his shoulder blade as he shudders, a powerful arm coming up to prop himself up against the shower wall.

You work him slowly at first, just as carefully as you'd pulled the shampoo through his hair. The flex of his abs against the palm of your other hand is transfixing, the shine and glint of the light over his muscles as he shifts in your fingers hypnotizing. Both of you linger in the moment, letting it stretch out long and hot and sweet, thick and slow like honey.

Shouto lets out a low groan when you thumb over the head of his cock, the arm he has pressed to the wall tensing. You do it again, reveling in the flex of his bicep, the roll of a powerful shoulder.

Shouto is the only person on earth as beautiful on the outside as he is on the inside, and you drink it all in, the sight of him, the beautiful sound of him as he utters your name, low and smooth and thick with feeling.

You keep pumping him like that, exactly how you know he likes, until he strains in your hands, that trim waist flexing as he can't help but rut into your grip.

One of your arms clutches him tighter against you as work him faster, and he lets out a soft moan, his fingers curling into a fist on the shower wall. It's only a minute or so more before he's arching into your hand, his hips bucking.

You tighten your fingers, thumbing over his head again, and that's all it takes. Shouto groans your name into the hiss of the shower spray, and comes all over your palm, every muscle in his body straining forwards.

He's so beautiful as he comes apart in your hands. His chest is heaving when you finally stop, and he shifts in your arms again, ducking his head to press an exhausted, satisfied kiss to your mouth.

"Thank you, love," he intones, those heterochromatic eyes settling on you, dark with pleasure. Pink stains his high cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, and he looks flush with effort, exactly the way he does after he takes you apart in bed most nights.

You grin up at him, leaning up on your toes to press another kiss to his mouth. "I love you, Sho."

He murmurs his reply into your mouth, and you run your hands over him again, pulling through his wet locks.

"Now let's get you into bed," you tell him bossily, reaching past him to turn off the shower spray.

"What about you, love?" he asks, a little frown marring his perfect mouth. You kiss it off of him, then tug him out of the shower and wrap him in a fluffy towel, scrubbing it over his hair.

You'll get back in to take your own shower properly in the morning, you know, and once Shouto has slept things off, he will be eager to return the favor. For now though, you tell him you are satisfied just to be with him, to be near him, to take care of him.

You tell him you love him again, and pull him into bed, still damp and sweet and pliant with his release. You're satisfied as he melts into sleep, his exhaustion winning out.

Truthfully, there is nothing more you want in this life, you think, as you follow after him, slipping into slumber too. You want him like this always, relaxed in your embrace—home, safe, yours.

Happy New Year from me!! I wanted to give you one more Shouto before the year was out. Thank you guys so much for everything this year. I am continually grateful to be a part of this community, and I will work hard to learn more and give you my best in 2024!!

[afyrian]

passing ships w/ oikawa | wc: 330 masterlist

    every morning, without fail, you find yourself at a quaint café. not due to the delicious coffee, or the memorable cheese and spinach empanadas. even the amazing view of the sun rising over the ocean's tide couldn't convince you to go so frequently. seeing him, though, that's reason enough. 

  he walks in so confidently, pushing his sunglasses onto his head. he always orders with a suave tone, making sure he talks to each barista like they're the love of his life. and every day when they call out his name, you think to yourself, i could hear oikawa every day of my life. 

  yet neither of you say anything to the other. you've never had the courage. standing up and talking to him meant leaving the homey bubble that you so desperately built for yourself. talking to him meant that this fantasy you've built around a stranger would crumble, the idea of him would crumble.

  he's never talked to you because you've become a comfort in his morning routine. he walks into the café, glances over at you, and can feel his heart rate rise a little. a blip in his daily routine that so greatly affects it, changing that, well, it would change everything.

  one morning though, neither of you can claim the idea of passing ships. not when you're running out the door with your hair messy, clothes still wrinkled from wasting away in your basket. you hurry for the café, checking the time periodically on your watch to make sure that you can get there on time. 

  you take in a deep breath, trying to seem like you weren't just running for your life for a small routine. and right as you're pulling at the front door, someone steps forward, knocking into you. his coffee spills over your shirt, dripping down onto your shoes, "watch where you're-"

  quickly your gaze flickers at the man's face and it's your ship. the ship that has finally crashed into you, "...going."

[mcflymemes]

THE EMPEROR'S NEW GROOVE (2000) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

how shall i do it?

oh, is that hard to believe?

is this really the best you could do?

check out this piece of work.

i'm here because i received a summons.

word on the street is you can fix my problem.

the drinks were a bit on the warm side.

okay, i admit it. maybe i wasn’t as nice as i should have been.

do you really want to kill me?

so is everything ready for tonight?

i thought we’d start off with a soup and a light salad, and then see how we feel after that.

we’re about to go over a huge waterfall.

bring it on.

you got all that, honey?

what about dinner?

all right. a quick cup of coffee.

but what does that have to do with anything?

you’re sort of confusing me.

how did you get back here before us?

by all accounts, it doesn’t make sense.

i never liked your spinach puffs.

ah. should have seen that coming.

you know what, you could have told me that before i set it up.

now you stop being hard on yourself. all is forgiven.

it’s not the first time i was tossed out of a window, and it won’t be the last.

what can i say? i’m a rebel.

i can’t believe this is happening!

break the door down!

are you kidding me? this is hand-carved mahogany.

so you lied to me.

couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes, huh.

why did i risk my life for a selfish brat like you?

i was always taught that there was some good in everyone, but, oh, you proved me wrong.

now i feel really bad.

you threw off my groove!

he didn’t pay his check.

this had better be good!

this is the last time we take directions from a squirrel.

yeah, like that would ever happen.

will you take a look at this?

oh, is that hard to believe?

just thought i’d give you a heads up.

what do you mean the door’s stuck? try jiggling the handle.

you’re the criminal mastermind here, not me.

just leave me alone.

it’s my birthday gift to me. i’m so happy.

hey, it doesn’t always have to be about you.

uh, he doesn’t really wanna talk to you.

hey, did you see that sky today? talk about blue.

don’t drink the wine.

our moment of triumph approaches!

oh, he’s doing his own theme music.

i’m so glad i was unconscious for all of this.

you’re not just gonna let him die like that, are you?

don’t listen to that guy.

if it were me, i’d march right back there and demand to see him.

you just saved my life!

believe it or not, i think i need a bath.

maybe i’m just new to this whole rescuing thing, but this, to me, might be considered kind of a step backwards.

i ate a bug today!

what is this guy babbling about?

i’ll be sure to tell him you stopped by.

i gotta go wash something.

anything sounds bad when you say it with that attitude.

let me guess, you have a great personality.

thanks for going back on your promise!

how long has that been there?

someday you’re gonna wind up all alone, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.

hmm. don’t know, don’t care. how’s that?

for the last time, it was not a kiss.

[insomniac4000]

Dad!George- George Clarkey

1933 Words

You had no idea why you were nervous to tell George you were pregnant, you knew he wasn’t going to get angry or run away. Starting a family was something you two had talked about starting a family a couple of times bit it was a in a year or two dream but obviously mother nature had other ideas. The second you showed him the test which had the words pregnant, 2-3 weeks on it father mode was well and truly activated.

“Are you serious?” He smiled, tears pricking his eyes as he held the bit of plastic so delicately afraid it, along with his dreams would shatter at any moment.

“It says it all there,” you responded your voice shaky, it was going to be a big change but with George by your side you were sure the pair of you could face it. You giggled as George swept you up in your arms lifting you in the air.

“I’M GOING TO BE A DAD!! “ He shouted before putting your down, suddenly his face crumpled and you looked on it him confused.

“Wait a sec, eww you’ve pissed on this!” George cried handing the stick back to you, you shook her head but gave a laugh.

“Things are about to get a whole load more disgusting babe,” you told him admiring the test one more time before putting it in your bedside drawer for safe keeping.

Your pregnancy was okay, nothing too out of the ordinary the usual fatigue and morning sickness at the beginning, George held your hair back, bought the only food you could stomach and threw away the foods that made you ill. He held you as you napped, picked up a lot of the housework and cooking when you were too tired to do so. He rearranged shoots to go to every scan and every doctor’s appointment even though you told him it wasn’t necessary. As your baby and therefore belly grew George couldn’t take his hands off you, waiting for that special moment he could feel the baby kick.

He wasn’t one for gender reveals and neither were you so you both just decided to find out privately during your scan and told people as they asked. The minute the technician told him that you were having a girl George swore he could feel his heart grow, a girl, HIS girl, his little girl that he would love, protect and cherish forever.

He read every baby name, every pregnancy, birth and baby book, swore a ton as he put together the furniture for the nursery, not understanding why you needed the special comfy rocking chair in there but he did it because you wanted it and boy when the baby came was he glad of the comfort from it at three in the morning.

Speaking of the baby coming, George often joked with his friends, on tiktok or on his podcast that you would go into labour somewhere funny it would become big thing and it ended up being right.

“No not the yellow ones they make me nauseous the red ones please,” you told him as your scratched your belly. You were close to the end and starting to feel sick again but this time it was because all of your organs were squished up and you had little room for food, and a very small squished bladder.

“Eurgh I think I need to wee again, does this shop have a bathroom?” You asked looking behind you. The pair of you were food shopping for what you hoped would be the last time, your due date was actually the previous day so you hadn’t planned beyond that. The freezer was full of meals you had prepped but you wanted to keep those for when the baby was born, so here you were buying another weeks shopping hoping it would all be over soon.

“By the front I think,” George replied monotonously placing the red peppers in the trolley, you took one step forward bit stopped abruptly when you felt a POP and soon enough you felt water trickling down your legs.

“GEORGE!” You said panicking holding onto your belly, you hadn’t felt any contractions so it couldn’t be your waters, but it felt too much to be anything else.

“What? Oh someone spilt something? It’s fine just wipe your feet in the toilet,” George replied looking back at the shelf and picking up the bag of spinach.

“Yes George, I spilt something, it came out of me,” you replied before exhaling as you grabbed your belly, finally feeling a small bit of pain.

“Didn’t make it to the bathroom in time?” George looked and burst out laughing until he saw your discomfort and another small cup of liquid came down your leg.

“Not quite,” you managed to reply and George’s eyes widened.

“Holy fucking shit is it happening?” Now he started to panic briefly but he very quickly calmed himself down, he needed to be calm, he needed to be there for you.

“I think so,” you replied, your hands now shaking.

“Okay where’s your phone? Let’s get out of here and ring the hospital. Your bags in the car right?” George asked already knowing the answer, it had been sitting in the boot for two weeks. He held his hand out and you grabbed it gently waddling down the aisle holding your belly like the baby was about to come out any second although you knew it was impossible.

“OLIVER COME HERE!” An angry voice called out, the pair of you looked behind you just in time to see a boy about four running down the aisle, slipping over the puddle you had just made. Your fiancé couldn’t help but burst into laughter as you gently elbowed him getting him to stop.

“We should probably tell a staff member about that,” George sniggered above the wailing.

When you got to the hospital the labour was long, fourteen hours and forty seven minutes to be exact, but George was there every step of the way, holding your hand, mopping your brow, giving you words of encouragement and passing you water when you asked for it. Eventually your daughter, Evelyn Heather Clarke made her way into the world and of course George was there to cut the cord.

“Shh, I’ve got her go back to sleep,” George whispered to you when the little cry you could only describe as a mini velociraptor came from the bassinette next to your bed.

“Unless you can start producing milk from your tits George you should probably hand her to me,” you replied with a yawn. The nights were sleepless and long for both of you as George insisted on waking up too even if he couldn’t feed there were things he could do like burp and settle Evie afterwards and make sure you were fed and hydrated. He did feel a little sad and left out those early weeks and months as breastfeeding meant you took on a lot of the childcare and he wanted the day that Evie reached out to him needing comfort in the same way she did to you but it didn’t take long.

“Who’s the most precious girl in the world?” George smiled to the now five month old babe who giggled in delight at her daddy. George didn’t know it was possible but every day he woke up and saw that smile he fell in love with Evie even more. The pink clad girl giggled again as her dad lifted her out of her car seat and embraced her, before walking into the flat. It was a daddy daughter play date day with Chris and his daughter and although Astrid Dixon was older by a year she was absolutely obsessed with her “cousin.”

“IYA!” A small high pitched voice welcomed George and Evie into the flat, “BABY!” Astrid squealed again with excitement, shoving the donkey stuffed toy she was holding into Evie’s face. George didn’t want to wish Evie’s life away but he couldn’t wait until she started, walking and talking, he was always trying very hard to make sure her first word was dad, and it absolutely was. George couldn’t stop gloating for weeks after that.

When Evie was almost three, his little lad came along, Rueben Gray. Now while Evie was a smiley, no fuss child Rueben was an absolute ball of chaos and George wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Stop worrying, it’ll be fine,” George tried to soothe you as you stood there head in hand, suitcases were lying on your bed. You were off on a family holiday to Disneyland Paris, George wanted to go to Florida but you insisted on doing Paris first as the kids were still young and to do a trial to see if you could cope before doing a longer journey, especially with a three year old and a five year old. The other reason you were nervous was because you were late, you had the tests in the bathroom ready to take and were going to surprise him while on holiday.

“It’s just not knowing how they’re going to handle the flight, especially Reuben he’s a fidget at the best of times,” you sighed.

“I will keep him occupied the whole time, don’t worry.” He kissed you gently on the temple before placing the cases on the floor so the pair of you could get into bed.

“Now, take the tests I saw in the bathroom and tell me if our family is complete,”

“Wait.. what.. how?”

“I saw them! Looked on the calendar and put two and two together, please don’t tell me I’ve made five?” George asked his eyes so full of cope. He wanted another child for a while, but since Reuben was energetic you wanted to wait until Evie was in school so things would be slightly easier.

“Yes, don’t get too excited just in case I’m just late.”

“You’re not. I have a great feeling about this, come on what are we waiting for!” George giddily ran to the bathroom and you couldn’t help but laugh now realising where your kids got it from.

The test was positive, the family was completed by another girl, Ophelia Grace.

“Right kids, breakfast is ready,” George shouted and waited for all the pitter patter of feet to come into the kitchen which they eventually did. Reuben was holding Ophelia’s hand, George carefully lifted the eighteen months old toddler into her highchair while making sure now four year old Reuben could get into his chair and keeping the other eye on now six year old Evie. George started pouring the juice and on hearing the click clack of your shoes in the kitchen he handed you your coffee thermos. This has been your routine since you returned to work part time six months ago and George had the routine nailed down to a tee. It worked well for the two of you, he looked after the kids when you worked for three days a week and the other four days he split between filming and having family time.

Be good for daddy, Evie have a good day at school darling, see you all later,” you announced kissing everyone in turn before making your way to work.

George set about his tasks effortlessly, it was like he was born to be a dad, of course he wasn’t and learned along the way but he really was the best. How was it fair that he was better looking one and the better parent?

I'm not really happy with but eh what are you going to do, it'll be up for now

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 6

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: This chapter is a heavy one, but ultimately shifts her relationship with Ben…

Word Count: 6,700

Trigger Warnings: (18+ only.) Attempted sexual assault, violence, mentions of domestic violence, torture, and past trauma. Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.   

Part 6: A Hot Meal

Frank informed you the next morning that Simone, the new chef, had to call in sick. Apparently she’d slipped a disk in her back after yesterday’s festivities. 

Poor thing. You wished her a safe recovery, and an STD panel. 

But that left you and a handful of hungry men gathered in the kitchen like stray cats.  

Soldier Boy’s crew was a mere few. Some were former military, all were gruff, grisly-looking guys.

Frank was their leader, stocky and stoic, and an ex-Marine from the Dominican Republic. Followed closely by Saul, who was a taller blonde from Idaho, and ex-Navy. 

Then there was Lorenzo, appropriately nicknamed “Loco,” who reminded you the most of Frenchie. Loco was Colombian, lean, and covered in tattoos, but generally the most laid back and always cracking jokes (dirty or otherwise). 

You’d learned that he’d been in the same unit as Frank. And he was the one who took the second shift on watching you in the beginning of your imprisonment. 

And finally, there was asshole Tony, the only true local. But you didn’t hold that against the rest of Colombia. 

He at least was still sleeping after an all-night job, according to Frank. 

You assumed Ben was still in bed as well, because he hadn’t yet graced you all with his presence. 

The rest of them were staring into either the fridge or the pantry, trying to work out breakfast. 

“I could whip up some eggs,” Loco said. 

“You mean those rubbery shits you made yesterday?” Saul quipped. Loco frowned, but shrugged in admission. 

“We’ve got cereal,” Frank pointed out. 

“Cinnamon Toast Crunch?” Loco asked hopefully. 

“Raisin Bran.”

“Maldito hijueputa. I can’t live like this.”

You watched them fumble around like they’d never seen the contents of a fridge before, shaking your head in disbelief. Were all men really this helpless? 

You sighed and stood up from your stool at the breakfast bar. 

“All right, guys. Step aside,” you said. “My powers are limited, but I can attempt an omelet of some kind.”

Frank discreetly let out a relieved breath, while Loco made fervent Catholic blessings to the Virgin Mary. Saul seemed to be reserving his judgment until he tasted said meal. 

You smiled and took out two cartons of eggs, some evaporated milk, onions, garlic, ham and cheese, and some fresh spinach you found in the vegetable drawer. Then you rooted through the pantry and found the seasonings you needed, like sea salt, pepper, and oregano.

Yvette taught you this recipe, and it was one you’d been successful with before. So it stood to reason that you could do it again. 

Within half an hour, you were serving sections of two massive omelets to each man (seriously, it might as well have been a quiche), with a generous portion for yourself. Though you still saved a large piece for Ben…and yes, even Tony. 

Loco took a huge bite and moaned. Saul frowned in disgust and shot a fist into his shoulder. 

“Shut the fuck up, man,” he reproached. 

“But it’s hella good,” Loco said, rubbing his shoulder. He offered you two thumbs up and a wide smile. “Gracias, corazón.” 

“You’re very welcome,” you said with a laugh, and fought hard not to blush in embarrassment. Frank gave you a rare, conspiring smile. 

Who would’ve thought a hot meal could make you friends among criminals?

“Even Saul’s got nothing to complain about,” Frank remarked, noting the other man’s silence in his thoughtful chewing. Until Loco teasingly prodded him in the side with a fork. 

Saul made a sound of irritation around a mouthful of food and fended him off with a warning look (and a threatening butterknife).  

Loco tsked. “You have to untighten your asshole, my friend. You will give yourself a hemorrhoid.”

“You are my hemorrhoid,” Saul snapped. 

You stifled a giggle. 

Frank wore a deadpan look, but amusement still glinted in his eyes.    

“He’s just mad because Loco put peanut butter in his gun last night,” Frank told you in a lowered voice. But Saul still heard it, because his frown deepened while Loco’s grin edged into a smirk. 

“You know how hard it is to unjam that shit out of the slide?” Saul said. “Even the safety’s clamming up now.” 

“Shit, I should’a put jam too!” Loco said. “PB&J in a barrel, no?”

Saul punched his shoulder again in the same spot as before. Loco made a pained sound, but took the abuse with a good-natured smirk.    

“Very mature,” you laughed quietly. 

“Fucking children,” Frank agreed, with a sip of his coffee. But something told you that he was fond of these assholes. 

And that’s how Ben found you all. 

He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, for a moment just watching his crew eating, joking, laughing—with you at the center of it all. 

He’d been standing here long enough without them noticing that he was actually getting annoyed, until Frank finally looked over and straightened a bit. 

“Sir,” he said. All eyes in the room went to Ben, who raised a brow and strolled in with a casual, lazy gait. He nodded at his men, who all greeted him back with respect. 

He noted you tightening up too, your expression turning more careful as you lowered your eyes and continued eating. 

There was something about it that annoyed him. But he ignored that for now, in favor of heading over to the pan on the stove. 

“Your plate is over here,” you mentioned, sliding over his breakfast. “Coffee’s still hot in the carafe.”

Ben flashed you a sly smile. “All right, sweetheart. Why don’t you get me a cup?”

He knew you’d frown, just like that, with annoyance glinting in your eyes. Try as you might, you couldn’t hide it all the time—your stubbornness. You were mouthy too, with an answer for fucking everything.

But when he took the proffered plate and tried the eggs, he raised his brows in pleasant surprise. 

“Okay. So you can cook,” he said. “Good to know.”

You raised a brow at that, but you handed him a mug of black coffee. He took a sip and made a face of disgust.

“Jesus, could at least put some sugar in there.” He passed it back to you. “Fix that for me, would ya?”

Your brow twitched again, but you took the mug wordlessly. Saul got up from his seat at the bar and washed his plate in the sink himself before he left, followed by Loco, who thanked you one more time before he followed Saul’s lead. 

You gave Ben his coffee while you started putting the leftovers away and soaking the pan in the sink. When Ben next took a sip, he coughed as his tongue was assaulted by sweetness. He shot you an irritated look.

“What the fuck is this?” he snapped. 

You looked over at him with widening eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. Too sweet?” 

Your face was all innocence, but he was starting to figure you out. He caught a gleam of satisfaction in your eyes. His lips twitched, not sure if they wanted to smirk in amusement or frown in annoyance at your audacity. 

Ben glanced over at Frank, who stood near you with an empty plate. Clearing his throat, Frank set his plate in the sink and also washed it himself.

Ben dumped his coffee there and gave Frank a look—one that said to fuck off. 

His subordinate actually hesitated, making Ben’s frown deepen. But the man eventually left you and Ben alone while you finished up the dishes and Ben ate his breakfast. He didn’t mind complimenting the chef. 

“You surprise me, sweetheart. Now, if you start cooking more often than you eat up the pantry, I may need to keep you around,” he remarked teasingly. And he dumped his plate into the sink while you were busy washing the large pans you’d used.

It was meant to be a joke. He’d said worse things to you before and you’d volleyed back playfully, or at worst case, brushed it off. So the way your head whipped towards him with a glare managed to take him by surprise. 

“Maybe if you put as much energy into feeding yourself as you do into fucking your way through South America, you wouldn’t be such a helpless asshole,” you said. 

It changed the air in the room, making it tense as Ben raised his brows at you. He straightened to his full height and approached where you stood at the kitchen sink. 

“Care to fucking rephrase that?” he asked.

Did this bitch really just call him helpless?

You had one hand on the counter, maybe to steady yourself. Your chin took on a defiant tilt as you stared up at him and crossed your arms. 

“At least your team has the decency to say thank you,” you snapped. “You can’t even be bothered. What are we, your fucking slaves? Should the whole fucking world bow to suck your wrinkly dick?”

Your vitriol somewhat put him on his heels. He stared at you, incredulous.

“I knew that doe-eyed Mary routine was a fucking show,” Ben growled. “Behold the salty cunt underneath. When yesterday, I know for a fact you were contemplating sucking on my cock like the fucking slut you are.”

Your expression became enraged. You aimed to slap him, with even your nails poised to scratch at his eyes, but he knew the attempt would hurt you far more than it’d hurt him. He grabbed your wrist and threw it away from him. 

You huffed, irate beyond belief, and tried to walk away from him before you said anything else you’d regret. 

But Ben’s hand closed on your arm again and whipped you around. You saw the anger in his eyes, the effort he was making to hold himself back. You both knew that with just a fraction of strength, he could crush you. He could end the game.

You were angry enough right now that you didn’t care. 

“Do it,” you challenged. “Bat me around until I act right. You supes call yourselves heroes, but I don’t see anything noble about you.” 

Instead of your arm, Ben gripped the counter next to you as his nostrils flared. His fingers bit into the tiles, cracking through them and making you flinch. 

“Go to your fucking room,” he ordered. “Before I take you up on that offer.”

Before he loses his shit, you interpreted. 

Your sister’s words again managed to cut through the red of your temper.

Protect yourself.

You hesitated, trying to slow your breath. Then, you lowered your eyes. And you scurried back to your room. 

You only released your tears when you were blessedly alone.  

Meanwhile, Ben was fucking fuming. He took it out on a potted plant, smashing it on the kitchen counter. He watched the fractals of clay spin off like bobble tops and the soil scatter across tile and in the sink. 

All the while, he refused to actually acknowledge how your words had affected him—other than infuriating him.

You were stubborn, with a smart goddamn mouth. You clearly hated him, and not just because you tried to help Butcher put him back to sleep. 

But he’d been spotting hints of attraction behind your blushes, whenever he teased you. He was mollified, slightly, with the knowledge that your body was interested, even if your mind was having a hard time being persuaded. 

Ben could work with that. 

But another part of him wondered…what the fuck was it about this girl? 

Why does it matter if she’s fucking into me or not? What the fuck do I care? He certainly wasn’t wanting for pussy. 

He should’ve gotten rid of you a long time ago. In fact, he should’ve shipped you back to Butcher, better yet, with a bullet through your skull so his band of morons would get the message…

But there was something about you. He’d known it from the moment he saw you in that club. When you broke dumbass Tony’s foot with that lethal goddamn heel, wearing black leather and a sexy gleam of confidence in your eyes as you walked away. 

To continue your hunt for Soldier Boy.

If Ben was honest with himself, (and he wasn’t), you had a fire he just didn’t want to dim. 

You were avoiding him. That was obvious. And maybe Ben was avoiding you too, a bit.

He whittled away the next couple of days with lines of coke, weed, and booze, among other things. Still, none of it managed to dull his mind enough to get a full night’s sleep. Because every time he closed his eyes, he dreamed of being in a metal coffin, unable to pry his eyelids open.

Most of it was flashes of memory mixed with nightmares. Of being frozen and defrosted, his head held underwater just to see how long he could go without breathing.

Being electrocuted on every surface of his skin to see which parts of him were more sensitive than others, less or more durable. What affected him more, bullets or acid, electricity or burning. 

Then the serums that lit his blood on fire, making him feel like his bones were liquifying from the inside out…

Ben would wake in his large bed, covered in sweat. And it took a hell of a lot to even make him dewy. 

The problem was, this was happening more often. Thanks to his abilities though, he was able to function on less sleep than most people anyway. 

At night, sometimes he walked through the dark and empty halls of this huge fucking mansion that felt empty as shit, even when he crossed one of his men. 

Sometimes, he wondered what it was all for—the long years of his life. Sometimes he wondered why he was still here, with no team, no family, no fame, and no real fucking life.

In the morning, after he cleared through the brain fog of post-drugging, Ben wandered downstairs and slurped down a mug of coffee. 

Simone was back, and she dutifully put together a frittata for him. Really, he was craving some plainer eggs and bacon, but this would do, he guessed.

After he finished eating, he wasn’t really sure what he wanted to do. The drugs were starting to bore him, as were the women, if he was honest. 

Ben ventured near the French doors leading to the backyard. He noticed you sitting outside in the garden, surrounded by little yellow flowers. Your mouth was moving, but he could barely hear you. 

Slowly he opened the door, so you wouldn’t hear him. Ben approached from behind, but didn’t go far. He just got close enough to hear you softly singing, letting the wind carry your voice away. But now he heard you perfectly. 

“If I didn’t care, more than words can say…if I didn’t care, would I feel this way?”

You had a good voice, he acknowledged. And just within the safety of his own mind, it reminded him of the way his mom used to hum along with the radio when she cooked. 

His mouth quirking, he returned inside and fished for the phone in his pocket. He scrolled through his contacts and found the number for his favorite escort service here in Colombia. 

Now that your anger had died down, you were feeling a bit guilty. You felt more than justified in raking Ben over the coals, and when you thought of how he’d snapped back at you, it still made your blood boil…

But somehow, your guilt remained. Maybe there’d been a better way to say those things. A gentler way that his massive ego could accept. 

Though you snorted as you walked through the halls that were now second-nature to you. It was late at night, but not too late that your brain could be calmed and cajoled into sleeping.

He doesn’t understand gentle, your mind reasoned. All that gets through his head is brute force. And sometimes, not even then. 

But he’d had every chance to lose his temper violently with you. While he’d certainly been an asshole, he hadn’t tried to break you. Just the kitchen counter. 

Curiouser and curiouser…

Without meaning to, your feet brought you close to his door. Your hand was poised to knock…but you hesitated.   

Then you heard the sounds coming from within, lusty feminine sighs and male grunting, and you grimaced. Memories of your previous experience in opening Ben’s door flit through your mind and made you blush. 

Nope, not this time. You made a sound of disgust and backed away from the door, then fled back down the hall. 

With a sigh of boredom, you supposed you could use a midnight snack. You’d just have to go it alone this time. 

Fine, you thought, suddenly petulant. And you would make something good too. Something that took some effort, and he wouldn’t get a single morsel! 

You went down to the kitchen and rifled through to find the ingredients you needed to make one of your mom’s old comforts: chocolate chip muffins. You didn’t have a Betty Crocker box mix, but you thought you remembered Yvette’s recipe to make them from scratch. 

You found a mixing bowl and threw in the powdered ingredients first—the flour, baking powder, sugar, salt. Then you added the vanilla extract, the eggs, vegetable oil, milk, and whipped them up into a batter. You dipped a finger in to taste it so far, and you smiled with a pleased hum.

“Whatever you’re making, it already smells good.”

Your smile fell as you looked up. Tony walked into the kitchen with his booted foot. 

You wanted to sigh. What the hell does this bitch want?

His long hair was tucked behind his ears, and he was dressed in tactical gear this time, complete with a belt, though curiously devoid of his gun.

The last time you’d seen him in this ensemble, he’d been kidnapping you. Maybe Soldier Boy sent him off on an “official” errand of some kind, like buying drugs off a cartel or something.

“Good evening,” Tony said with a nod. You nodded back at him, watching him as he approached the kitchen island. You made sure it remained between the two of you as you went to the fridge for some more milk. The batter was a bit too thick.

“What’re you making?” he asked.

“A roast chicken,” you sassed. He shot you a dry look and surveyed the ingredients across the counter. He reached for your open bag of chocolate chips and stole a few, scooping them into his mouth. 

Rude, but you didn’t comment. You knew you shouldn’t snipe too much with him. 

“Whatever it is, mind saving some for me this time?” he asked. “I heard you made breakfast for the guys the other day.”

“I did saved you some,” you replied. “Not my fault if the self-proclaimed King of Everything ate it all.”

In most ways, Ben was a bottomless pit. 

Tony started to curve around the kitchen island. You didn’t miss the move, and you stepped carefully in the other direction. 

“What? I just want to grab a beer,” he said, giving you a teasing smirk. “You afraid of me, mi vida?” 

You were really sick of men giving you unearned endearments. 

“Oh, yeah. Fucking petrified of the one-legged wonder,” you replied. Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. Tony’s sly façade fell into irritation. 

There it is, you thought.  

“You really are a bitch,” he said tersely. 

“Takes one to know one, bitch,” you rejoined. It wasn’t your wittiest comeback, to be sure, but it still seemed to infuriate him. You should’ve been trying to diffuse his temper, not goading him. You just didn’t really think he would try anything after what happened last time.

But you were wrong. 

Tony went after you, swifter than you thought possible with that big-ass boot. You muttered a curse and tried to evade him, but he grabbed you by your hair and yanked you back, making you shriek in both surprise and pain. 

You had no choice but to twist and aim a shot to his throat with your elbow. While he choked, you aimed another blow to the bridge of his nose, knocking his head back. 

You should’ve just fled the kitchen. Guaranteed, you could’ve outrun him. But his audacity made your temper snap. You followed up with a well-lined fist in the same region of his face, once, then twice, and he uttered a shout of pain as you both felt the crunch of his nose breaking. 

But then he managed to grab your arm. The two of you grappled, him slipping his foot out of the way when you tried to drive your heel into his boot. 

“Can’t get me twice, you fucking cunt,” he hissed, and pulled something from behind his back. Your eyes widened, thinking it was a gun. 

And it was a gun. Just not the kind you anticipated. 

A shock of electricity ran through your entire body as he tased you in the side, right below your ribs. You convulsed as he did it, unable to move until he relented. It made a few seconds feel like minutes of agony. 

You couldn’t even scream. Even when he stopped tasing you, you gasped in air and lost control of your legs. 

Tony hooked an arm around your waist and propped you up against the counter. With whatever strength you had, you raised your head, dazed and still in pain as you tried to grasp his shoulder.

He smirked down at you. With one hand, he ripped open your shirt so hard that the fabric burned against your already tingling skin. You gasped as you finally realized what he was about to do.

“Nnn…” you uttered, shoving weakly at his shoulder. 

“Shhh,” he said. His cold and lustful blue eyes roved over your heaving breasts still held in your bra, the expanse of your skin. He was able to get a grip of the button on your jeans before you summoned enough strength to fight back.

You shoved your hand against his face, trying to impale his eyes with your nails. But Tony ripped your hand away.

“Fucking bitch. Even now you won’t behave,” he muttered. 

He heaved you higher against the counter and pinned you there with a hand wrapped around your throat. He started squeezing, chocking precious air out of your lungs, but you kicked at him, bit your nails into his hand and clawed and fought as hard as you could when he tried prying your legs open with his knee. 

You tried crying out, but it was just whimpers making it through his tightening hand around your throat. He got frustrated enough to just break the button on your jeans, ripping the zipper down in the process. 

Then, two large hands closed on Tony’s arms.

Both of you looked up and found Ben’s steely green eyes. With a tightening of his jaw and a single upward shift of his grip, Tony’s arms broke. Bone struck through the skin, and the man screamed a horrific, blood curdling sound.

The hand wrapped around your neck released, letting you take in precious air. But that also meant you had nothing propping you up on your shaking legs.

You slumped to the floor against the kitchen island, then watched in horror as Ben grabbed the side of Tony’s face and bashed his head against the counter—over and over until his skull split open. 

Nostrils flaring, Ben took in long breaths as Tony’s mangled body fell to the floor in a bloody heap. 

Then he turned back to you. Your vision was a bit hazy as you tried to look up at him. Hot tears slipped down your cheeks as he slowly kneeled down to you, and helped you stand up. 

“Easy,” he murmured. “You’re all right.”

But you couldn’t stay on your feet. 

You made an uneasy sound, and Ben caught you when your legs couldn’t support you. You struggled to raise your head again, but you managed it.

Ben’s eyes roamed over your face and tried to discern what was happening. They held the question that he spoke out loud.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

What’s wrong. What a damn question, you thought.

Blinking, you tried your best to focus on his bearded face. 

“He tased me,” you told him through shallow breaths. 

Ben’s jaw clenched again, but all he did was nod. After a beat, he swept you up into his arms. You gasped, but he looked down at you in silent question. You nodded and relaxed against him, briefly closing your eyes. 

You wouldn’t know how that small gesture affected him as he carried you out of the kitchen. And up the stairs to the second floor, all the way to your room.

He was careful in laying you down on the bed. You were still crying, and now embarrassed for your own modesty as you grabbed a blanket and tried your best to cover yourself, your ruined shirt hanging from your shoulders and all. 

By the time you looked back over your shoulder, Ben was gone. 

However, a few minutes later there was a knock at your door. You sniffed.

“Who…” you tried to speak, despite the pain and coarseness of your voice. “Who is it?”

“Frank,” came the response. You didn’t know if you wanted him in here. 

But after a long moment, he spoke again.

“I’ve got some water for you,” he said through the door.

You licked your dry lips and tried to swallow, even though it hurt. Water, you could definitely use. 

With a sigh you said, “Come in.”

Frank entered with a bottle of water and a med kit. You eyed him warily as he dragged a chair over and sat across from you where you laid on your bed. 

“Can you sit up?” he asked. 

You weren’t entirely convinced that he was here to help you. But his brown eyes were calm and steady, and you didn’t detect a threat in them. 

“I was a paramedic before I enlisted,” he said. 

You blinked in surprise. You eventually obliged him by sitting up, but you still held the blanket around your body. Ben must’ve filled him in…and sent him to check on you. 

Tears welled up in your eyes again. Because every time you thought you had Soldier Boy figured out, the humanity of Ben surprised you. 

“Can I see where he tased you?” Frank asked. 

Though you hesitated, you opened your blanket enough for him to take a look at your bruised side. Sighing through his nose, Frank nodded. He wore medical gloves, and he raised his hands to prod at your neck.

You whimpered and leaned away from his touch. Frank slowly dropped his hands away from you. His eyes softened. 

“You asked about my family,” he said. You gave a belated nod, once you remembered that conversation from a few weeks ago. Had it only been a month since you’d gotten here?

It felt like a year. 

Frank held your gaze, and you remembered asking him. Got a family? Wife and kids?

He hadn’t answered you. You’d thought maybe there was a story there. Now you knew for sure that there was.

“I have a daughter,” said Frank. His tone held the weight of sincerity, just as his words held an underlying promise.

Your tears fell. You nodded and allowed him to finish patching you up. 

He then left you alone, saying that he would bring you something to eat in a little while. But after the door clicked shut, you allowed yourself to let go.

You mostly spent the next day in your room. Frank came by to check on you, to offer you something to eat. You took what he gave you, but you only nibbled. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to enjoy eating.

You imagined it getting clogged in your throat, as a hand wrapped around it. First Antonio’s, then your father’s hand. 

You remembered when you were thirteen years old, and you finally snapped back at him when he tried to cut down your mom again with his drunken cursing.

You remembered the dryness of his hands, one of them closing around your neck and squeezing until you saw black spots encroaching on your vision.

And your mom intervened, threw herself onto him. You held your little sister in the closet. She was far too little to understand what was going on, but she knew it was bad.

You covered her eyes, and you watched through the slits as he beat your mom within an inch of her life.

You remembered fumbling with the landline, whispering into the receiver until police sirens circled through the windows and illuminated the dim house. 

You remembered until you had to shut your eyes against memories and hot tears. 

It was another day before your room felt like a suffocating cage once again. Night had fallen, according to the TV guide, approaching midnight. 

You had to gather your courage, but you got dressed into one of your new plain shirts and jeans (which Ben had bought you, you were reminded).

When your stomach growled, you frowned. You hadn’t been able to keep much down for the past couple of days. Sighing, you reached a hand for the doorknob.

Your fingers hesitated on the brass, but you remembered something Louisa told you the day she graduated from high school. 

You hugged her tight with the broadest grin and kissed her cheek. With tears in your eyes, you held up her hand, which held a diploma with honors. 

She had a chance to go to college—something you hadn’t had. But you were going to make sure she did.

“You’re a rockstar, Lou. I’m so damn proud of you,” you said. She laughed and wiped a tear from your cheek. 

“It’s only because of you,” she said. “You’re a rock, sis. Even when you’re not.”

Your sister was a smart little shit, wise beyond her years. And that had stuck with you ever since. 

You’re a rock. Even when you’re not.

Even when that insidious voice inside whispered things. That you were weak, not strong enough, not smart enough. A burden on your family, on your friends. A disappointment. A bitch with an attitude and not much else. 

But you sucked in a shaking breath and frowned at yourself, your brows knitting together. 

No, you thought stubbornly. 

And you opened the door. 

With cautious steps you made your way downstairs. You forced yourself to keep walking, your heart rate climbing, until you reached the kitchen. 

You didn’t know what you expected, but Ben standing there and staring into the fridge was not it.

It was the first time you’d seen him dressed down, in sweatpants, a soft-looking gray shirt, and some old man loafer slippers. You couldn’t help a smile at the sight. 

Maybe he sensed a presence behind him, because he perked up and glanced over his shoulder. Finding you standing there with a small smile, if a bit awkwardly, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. 

“Hey,” you replied with a nod, and you braved entering the kitchen. It was spotlessly clean, almost as if nothing had happened in this room.

Except for the large section missing from the kitchen counter, revealing the cement underneath. Likely it had been too damaged to be repaired and needed to just be torn out and replaced. 

Your gaze roamed across the counter to the spot where you’d been assaulted. You couldn’t help focusing on it, so long that your vision started to glaze over. 

Until you realized that Ben was slowly approaching you. He had a beer in hand, which he must’ve grabbed from the fridge. You sucked in a breath and looked up at him. 

“You’re up and about pretty late,” he remarked. 

“So are you,” you returned with an attempt at a smile. “I got hungry.”

Ben huffed in amusement. “Figures…though not gonna lie, was feeling peckish myself.”

He gestured at the fridge dismissively. “There’s not much.”

He could’ve woken up Simone, you were ready to point out. But maybe, just maybe, something you said had gotten to him. Maybe he’d wanted to just figure it out for himself, but didn’t know where to start. 

“Let me take a look,” you said instead. You went first to the pantry and took a brief inventory. “You feeling sweet or savory?”

“Savory,” he replied after a moment. He went over to the breakfast bar and sat down with his beer while you continued to rifle through.

“Hmm, how about spaghetti?” you suggested. 

Ben raised a brow. “It’s almost midnight.” 

You shot him a small grin. “So? You’re hungry, right?”

You could tell he wasn’t totally into the idea, but he shrugged. 

“All right.” 

You hummed as you gathered all the ingredients you needed. Ben watched you lay them out across from him on the counter: onions, tomato sauce, various seasonings, and more. He eyed the entire head of garlic you were getting ready to peel.

“Jesus, you tryin’ to kill a vampire or something?” he quipped. You gave him a wry look.

“Have you ever made spaghetti before?” you asked. This was as basic as it came, but the way he was looking at the vegetables told you the entire concept of peeling, cutting, and throwing them together into a pan was foreign to him. 

“Probably,” he said with a shrug. 

Meaning never, you interpreted. Ben really just had no idea how to cook, you realized. You didn’t understand how a century-old man was so lacking in everyday skills…

But maybe you did. The files neatly stored in your brain reminded you that he’d grown up a rich kid. Very rich. Then after he became Soldier Boy, he’d all too soon reached the pinnacle of fame. He’d made so much money in four decades that he’d probably never needed to do a menial task in his life.  

Maybe you could get him to try. 

However, you hadn’t realized it until now, but even after a full day, your body hadn’t fully recuperated from what you’d gone through. Maybe it was the latent stress, but you already felt tired, your body heavy.  

With a growing idea in your mind, you finished peeling and crushing the garlic and grabbed two onions. You held up one of them for his view. 

“Would you mind helping me?” you asked. 

Ben sat back in his seat, crossing his arms. 

“Do I look like Betty fucking Crocker to you?”

“Do you have to be so rude?” you clipped back. His lips twitched in amusement, until you sighed, and took a break from standing up straight to lean against the counter. Your side was starting to twinge from where you’d been tased.

“What’s the matter now?” he asked. His brows knit together, and you could almost swear you saw concern in his eyes. 

But you pressed your lips together. It really pained you to admit it, but…

“Still a bit shaky,” you said, lowering your eyes. “I…honestly don’t know if I can finish this.” 

For a moment, Ben just stared at you. 

He frowned, then made a sound of annoyance. 

“Christ,” he muttered, and finished off his beer before he stood. He took his time coming around the island to meet you. 

“Fine,” he deadpanned. “What is it you want?”

A smile grew across your face, bright and grateful. You handed him an onion. 

“Peel and chop this, please.”

You made room for him at the cutting board and gestured for him to move in there. Ben considered the onion in his hand and took the knife from you. And after a beat of hesitation, he cut the whole thing in half. 

You made a halting sound, lightly touching his wrist. “I’d peel that first if I were you.”

“I know what the fuck I’m doing,” he retorted, but you read the defensiveness in his eyes. 

Hiding an amused smile, you relented and let him do it the way he wanted. But you did notice that he started peeling off the first layer of skin before he started cutting again.

Meanwhile, you found a sauce pan in the cupboard and a pot for boiling the pasta. And the two of you fell into a strange, companionable silence while cooking together.

Until you noticed him glancing at your neck. You knew there were bruises there, still purplish, but healing. It reminded you to gather your courage for something else.

“Thank you,” you said, with difficulty. “For…for saving me.”

Ben’s gaze met yours, but all he did was nod. You’d expected him to be his usual cocky self about it. 

“Why did you do it?” you asked. He paused in his truly horrendous cutting; irregular pieces of onion were all over the cutting board, but he was still going for the second one.

Then he huffed. “Would you rather I hadn’t?”

“Be serious,” you said, before you could censure yourself. He raised a brow at you. 

“You know what?” he said. “Think what you want about me, but I’m not a fucking animal.”

His frown deepened, like he was offended at you just for asking. 

Well, fair enough.

So you let it go as the two of you cooked together. 

But as Ben was peeling the stubborn hide off the vegetable, it slipped out of his frustrated hands and rolled away. Thankfully it stopped just shy of falling off the counter. 

You couldn’t help a small giggle at his expense. He had the strength of twenty men or whatever, but he couldn’t chop an onion to save his life. 

Ben shot you a wryly amused look. “Oh, you better not be fucking laughing at me.”

That just made you laugh in earnest, even though you covered your mouth with your hand. His grin deepened at the sound, despite the embarrassment making his face and neck warm up. 

He grabbed the hateful head of veg and looked anywhere but you as he got ready to try again. There was no way he was letting you, or this fucking onion, make a fool out of him. 

But your soft hand soon covered over his. You offered him a genuine smile, your eyes gleaming.

“Want me to show you a trick I learned?” you asked. 

He hesitated, but he eventually moved over and let you in on the action. You took up the knife, held down the onion, and cut the ends off first. Then you were able to more easily peel off the rest of the outer layer. 

“You can do this part any way you want, really. But I like to cut it down the middle first, then chop up one half at a time like this,” you explained.

And you felt Ben move in closer behind you to watch your methodical work. 

The heat from his proximity actually made you start to blush like a damn school girl. You tried to stamp it down, but heat flared into your cheeks when his hand covered yours and took back the knife.

“All right, all right, I got it. Move over,” he said. You huffed, but you grinned and let him continue…

By the way his eyes later lit up when he tasted the meal, you knew he really did like your cooking. Now, you didn’t want to feed his outdated views on gender roles…but you could admit, seeing him enjoy something so simple as your grandma’s spaghetti recipe was gratifying. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d shared a decent moment with Ben. But it was the first time that it hadn’t felt like an act. You didn’t know what to do with that—or the conflicted feeling making your heart ache. 

And you certainly didn’t want to find anything about him endearing. 

AN: So first of all, sorry for all the angst and TWs in this one. But here lies the end of Tony's fuck ass. ✌🏽 And maybe she's starting to understand (and trust) Ben a bit more...

Next time: Two weeks later, Ben is getting under her skin in the worst (best) way. (AKA: the moment we've all been waiting for...)

You should’ve just pushed him away already…but his nearness was mucking up your good sense. 

The truth was, you weren’t afraid of him. Not anymore. And maybe you didn’t hate him.

Maybe…

“Well, what’s it gonna be?” he asked you.

Your lips parted, halting on a reply.

Keep Reading: PART 7

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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Devotion 🖤 III. Path to the Future (Ch 12)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE PREVIOUS

III. Path to the Future

CH 12 (7.6k) The day after your demand that he not eat Kerri’s food anymore you come back from your afternoon walk around town, something you started out of boredom one of the first few days you were back, to a surprise in the kitchen. Today - just like every day as you walk around - the residents that see you run into their houses and grab gifts to give you. Initially you tried to refuse them but they just forced them into your arms and ran away, so now you take them back to the house. 

They’re obviously meant for Joel - offerings to the deity from his devotees - but you have been hoarding them in your room and snacking on them in the mornings. Today you have a pot of fresh honey, a bundle of oat cookies, a jar of pickled peppers, a lovely bouquet of multicolored tulips, and three dried casings of cured meat you were told is called Soppressata.

You walk in the house and move to head right up the stairs to deposit your collected snacks in your hoard, but notice a delicious smell wafting out from the kitchen. Without even thinking, you walk in and see Joel - wearing an apron - and chopping up potatoes at the sink. He turns around and sees your arms full and moves to offer to help you unload before a realization strikes you. You don’t think he’s aware you’ve been leaving the house every day and now this is obvious evidence you have. Is he going to be mad?

“What’s all this?” he says, grabbing the pepper jar and honey pot before they slip out of your fingers.

“Just some stuff,” you shrug, setting the rest down on the counter.

He doesn’t seem mad that you’ve obviously been out all day and you hope he just goes back to doing whatever he was doing. What is he doing? It smells amazing in here. Before you can ask you watch him pop open the honey and stick his fat finger in, scooping it into his mouth. He closes his lips around his finger and you watch his face fall slack, a contented hum emanating from his mouth as his eyes close. 

You wish you weren't watching his face morph into pleasure right in front of you. You wish this vision of him didn’t make your insides flutter and your body tense with forbidden memories. He pulls his finger from his mouth with a pop before going back for another fingerful. You wish he wasn’t eating all the fucking honey.

“Hey, save some of that, I want to put it on my biscuits.”

“You’ve got biscuits?” he asks as he reaches for the bundle, unwrapping it with his honey-covered hand. “These aren’t biscuits, these are… are these cookies?”

“Yeah, those are oat cookies, the biscuits are upstairs,” you explain before you can stop yourself.

“What do you mean upstairs?”

Shit. Now you’ve let the cat out of the bag. You turn your face to try and avoid his stare but you see him waiting for an answer out of your peripheral vision. You grab the pot of honey out of his hand and pop the lid back on, grab the bouquet and walk out of the kitchen, motioning for him to follow you. You hear his footsteps slowly padding behind you on the stairs and when you open up the door to your room, you step back so he can see your collection. 

Preserved jellies, chutneys, and pickled veggies make a rainbow along the shelves on the wall. A basket full of early-harvest spinach and spring onions sits next to bottles of homemade salad dressing on the bookshelf. Several loaves of partially-eaten crusty bread are spread on top of the dresser as are an open jar of fresh butter, a knife sticking out of an open jar of deep red berry jam. 

Several empty jars sit half-full of water all over the room, holding bouquets of spring flowers in different states of bloom. The nightstand is covered in crumbs spilling off a plate with two biscuits left - ostensibly the ones you wanted to try with your newly acquired honey - and the unused side of the bed is littered with dirty dishes, soiled napkins, and a half-eaten rhubarb crumble pie.

“What… the… fuck?” Joel draws out his words, turning to look wide-eyed at you.

“I’m sorry, okay?” you mumble.

You look down, unable to make eye contact with him, unsure how he’s going to react. You’ve been hoarding - and eating - all these gifts that were meant for him. Is he gonna be angry at you or is he gonna be the pathetic, nice version of Joel he’s been since he brought you back here? Which would you prefer? It’s not like he left you food here at the house so what did he think you were eating all day the last two and a half weeks?

“What do you mean you’re sorry? Who did you steal all this shit from?”

Your head snaps up to meet his eyes.

“I didn’t steal anything! I meant I was sorry I kept your gifts, not that I stole something. How dare you! I wouldn’t steal-”

“What the hell you mean, my gifts?” 

“You know, all this stuff people gave me while I was out walking around, all your gifts,” you explain. “I know I should’ve given them to you but I was hungry.”

“People gave you all ‘a this?”

“Yeah and you can go ahead and ask them cuz I didn’t steal any-”

“These aren’t gifts for me,” Joel interrupts.

“What? What do you mean? Of course they are,” you say as you motion around the room, as if that’s somehow making it more obvious.

“You think people are makin’ me cookies and givin’ me bouquets of flowers?”

You open your mouth to speak and then shut it quickly. You realize he has a point. There weren’t any flowers in this house before, never have been. In fact, you couldn’t find a single vase when you went looking for one and had to use the empty jars of things you’d already eaten to hold the flowers. And come to think of it, you’d never seen people handing Joel goodies as he walked by them on the street and never noticed him coming home with his arms full of food.

“Why would they be givin’ them to me?” you ask.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” he smirks.

You shrug. “How the hell would I know?”

He looks around the room again in disbelief, then back to you. “Bring some of those dirty dishes down, would ya? I don’t want ants in here.”

You think about arguing with him but he turns and heads back down to the kitchen before you can think of a smart-ass reply. Besides, he has a point. You’ve been living in a little pig-sty to keep your snacks a secret and now the jig is up. You might as well clean the room. You gather as much as your arms can carry, dirty plates along with a bunch of the food, and bring them downstairs. Joel opens a cupboard next to the sink that used to be full of Tess’ coffee but now sits empty.

“You can put your secret stash in there, if ya want,” he says, smirking.

“Well, you can help yourself too,” you mumble.

“Yeah, sure,” he chuckles, squeezing some sauce into a pot of corn on the stove top. “Wanna help me mash the potatoes?”

“What are you makin’?” you ask, looking around the kitchen, once again noticing the delicious smell surrounding you.

“I went to the poultry farm and grabbed a bird after my last meeting today, so we’ll be having roast chicken with barbeque corn and potatoes,” he explains. Then he teases, voice lowered, “Mashed, if you can manage it.”

“You know how to roast a chicken?” you ask, ignoring his taunt about your own cooking abilities.

“Well, the oven does most of the work,” he answers.

He stirs the corn on the stove while you work at the counter next to him, mashing the potatoes with a large fork you found at the back of the silverware drawer. You seem to work forever and can’t seem to get all the lumps out, finding new chunks of potato everytime you stir the bowl.

“How the hell did she get them so fuckin’ smooth?” you curse, more to yourself than to anyone else.

“She probably used the mill,” Joel says as he points to the contraption on the counter next to your bowl of mashed potatoes.

You hadn’t even seen the goddamn thing, you were so focused on forking the potatoes into a smoothie and proving to him you could do it. Fuck, the food mill. Of course that’s how Kerri got her perfectly smooth potatoes. In the French style, she used to brag. Stupid Kerri and her stupid french potatoes.

“I prefer them lumpy anyways,” you lie.

“Yeah, me too.”

You’re not sure if he’s lying too but you’re glad he didn’t say something stupid like he preferred Kerri’s potatoes, not when you have this giant fork in your hand and he’s within stabbing range. He takes out the chicken and lifts the lid, a decadent aromatic steam fills the room. You see the chicken dressed with lemon peels and dried herbs and think, holy shit Joel really can cook, this fucker. He shows you how to cut into the meat and see if the juices run clear - which they do - and then it’s done. He plates up dinner for you both and you sit at the table in your usual seats.

Tonight - unlike every other night - you don’t make spiteful commentary about the quality of the food. In fact, Joel even notices you chewing with your eyes closed, seeming to truly enjoy the meal he’s made, and his assumption is confirmed when you get up to put a second helping on your plate. When you come back from the kitchen you place the parcel of oat cookies in the center of the table, an offering of dessert which you both share once your meals are done.

Joel is shocked further when you offer to help him wash up the dishes, and his surprise must show on his face because you level him with a don’t say a word stare that has him silently accepting your offer. As you wash the dishes, so close he can feel the heat from your body, he can’t help but think about the last time you washed dishes together and your confession about what that moment had meant to you. He wonders if you’re thinking about it too.

What had that moment meant to him? He remembers it vividly, speaking Sarah’s name out loud for the first time in years. You’d tried to stop him, to let him know he didn’t have to say the obvious but he wanted to say it. He wanted to speak it out loud. He wanted you to be the one to hear it. He wanted you to know him, way back then. Part of him wanted to roll over and expose his soft underbelly to you and yet, the bigger part of him - the protective part of him - kept you at a distance.

Joel’s been cleaning the same fork for about four minutes now, so you’re not sure if he’s noticed all the dishes are washed. You’re afraid to turn your head and look at him, not wanting to disrupt this peaceful moment, to have this evening end. This has been… it’s been the best night you’ve had in a long time. You’re not sure what you want now but in the beginning, this is the kind of night you longed for. Time with Joel, alone and at the center of his attention, playing house with him.

You wonder if that’s what he’s thinking about, about your confessions to him sparked by a night many months ago very similar to this one. The way you used to want him, the way you used to love him. You hear him drop the fork and realize he’s looking at you. The warmth of his attention sends a heatwave across your chest and up to your ears. You curse the swooping of your stomach and the way you have to physically restrain yourself from throwing your body at him.

You take a step backwards, keeping your eyes forward. “I’m gonna head-”

But you never get to finish your sentence. 

Joel’s mouth is on yours and you hate the way your body immediately responds to him, opening your mouth to let him plunder it with his tongue and wrapping your arms around his neck as he paws at your ass. He picks you up long enough to move you both back to the dining room before he’s setting you down on the cleared table. Well, your head is clear enough to recall, this is a familiar position - except this time Tess isn’t here to interrupt you.

He pushes you backwards, his body curving over yours, kissing your lips, your cheek, your neck. His whiskers drag along your skin, tickling a path as he moves his face along your body. You feel a thick bulge in his jeans grinding into your center, setting off a fresh wave of desire. And then the thought hits you. This is how easy you are. This is how easily you give in. He cooks you one chicken dinner - and he said the oven did most of the work - and you spread your legs for him.

This is exactly what you told him you didn’t want, to let him use you and fill you and play husband and wife with you. And you folded almost immediately. You’re ashamed, disappointed in yourself. You’re supposed to be stronger than this and no matter how badly you want it - and you want it bad - you can’t let him win this easily. You’ve come too far to give it all up for some physical affection. You push your hands on his chest and after a couple shoves he stands up, panting, looking down at you confused.

“What- what’s wrong?” he asks.

You push him back further and stand up off the table, taking a deep breath and gathering your wits.

“Why did you bring me back here?” 

“W- why? Because I want you here with me, baby.”

There’s that baby shit again. You roll your eyes, making sure he sees your annoyance. “For what purpose?”

“I want you to know me,” he grabs your hand and whispers your name. It’s the first time you’ve heard it from his lips. It makes your heart slam against your chest. “I want to share my life with you.”

“But you’re not sharing anything,” you pull your hand back. “I’m in this house all day, alone, with nothing to do. What are you sharing? Your dinner? Your dick?”

“What’s wrong with sharin’ those things? I’ll share everything with you, you can have anything you want. You said we were made for each other… and we are,” he pleads.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you sigh. “I didn’t tell you about those stupid feelings I had so you would take them as gospel. I was trying to illustrate how under your fucking delusional spell I was, you maniac.”

“I know that. But that’s why we’re made for each other, don’t you see?” He has a crazy look in his eyes, you see that much. “You thought we could fix each other's weak spots, that we could make each other stronger. And we can. We complete each other, we’re two of a kind.”

You’re suddenly worried he might have slipped something in the dinner because his words are starting to make some kind of sense to you. “So,” you swallow past a lump in your throat. “What do you want from me, Joel?” you ask, wanting him to spell it out. “Why did you bring me back here?” The time for innocence is over. No more manipulation, no more fairy tales. Your eyes are open. You know exactly who he is now, so he needs to tell you exactly what he wants.

“I can’t give you traditional love, we both know that. But you don’t want that anyways.” He reaches for your hand again and you don’t immediately pull back. “What I can give you is everything I have. I want to share it all with you.”

You measure his words and his actions, remembering all the ways he hurt you to try and tamp down the absolutely blinding feeling taking over your body. The feeling you have when all his attention is focused on you and he’s talking like this. Loving you, claiming you. You’re not even sure it’s real. You wish it didn’t affect you this way, you wish you weren’t so weak. But goddamnit, the power in this man, the absolute energy rolling off of him and surging directly into you is completely electrifying.

You close your eyes and let reason take hold before you speak. “Do you still think I’m some helpless, broken little thing, Joel?”

“No, of course not,” he answers immediately.

You pull your hand slowly out of his.

“Then why are you still tryin’ to take care of me? I don’t need you to give me things, Joel. If I want somethin’, I’ll take it. If you brought me here to share your life with me then you better start sharing.”

“I don’t understand,” he whispers.

“If I’m gonna be with you then I’m going to be with you. Not under you. Not subservient to you. Not stuck here in this house waiting for you to get home all day. If you want to share with me then you share everything.”

Even if he hadn’t already told himself he’d give you anything, he wouldn’t have hesitated one bit. Hearing you ask for what you wanted - what you really wanted - for the first time ever, was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen.

“Is this why you’ve been acting like a little brat this whole time?” he asks, the side of his mouth upturning to a sly smirk. “Coulda just told me what you wanted on day one.” 

“We’re two of a kind,” you say his words back to him in a bad imitation of his gruff drawl. “Shouldn’t you have already known what I wanted?”

Joel smiles. “You’re right,” he yields, ignoring your sarcasm. “And like I already said, you can have anything you want.”             

---

April’s rain fades away as May approaches and while those late spring days tick by, a foreboding heat begins to soak into everyone’s bones. The beginning of June sees the afternoons become sun-filled and muggy, the air thick with pollen and cicada songs. The valley is verdant green and rich with blooms, finally back to life after a long winter, and the residents seem to be in excellent spirits. Joel is surprised - but relieved - that he hasn’t gotten any bad news in weeks. He wonders if the fact that you’ve been accompanying him to work every day might be playing a part in his good fortune.

You sit-in on every meeting with him, travel around the valley to visit families, and take notes as Tess discusses the incoming reports. He hasn’t made an official announcement and no one has said anything to him about your growing role but from what he can see, it’s being received well. You have a way about you, a habit of listening when the men speak and nodding your head, taking it all in. Then when you give a response you make it sound like they were the ones who had the idea all along, like you were just plucking the idea out of their own heads.

Fuck, you’re good. And the response from the women? Joel always thought he could wrap them around his finger with a well-placed compliment in his gravelly baritone and a flash of his espresso-brown eyes, but they are responding to you better than they ever did him. They’re showering you with gifts, not just cookies and flowers but clothes and blankets they’ve made, books and scavenged items, drawings from the children. He’s half-convinced they’re going to throw a parade for you.

You and Joel are sitting at your desks in the office you all keep in the town square when there’s a knock at the door. Joel goes to answer it and it’s Georgia, Peter’s wife, with two heaping plates in her hands.

“Brought you guys a little something before the meeting starts,” she says with a massive smile on her face.

“Oh you didn’t-” Joel starts.

“Thank you so much, Georgia,” you interrupt, suddenly at his side, taking the plates out of her hands. “Tell little Aidan I said thank you for the butterfly drawing.”

Joel turns to thank Georgia and she continues smiling, waving as she heads down the sidewalk. You’re already digging into your potato salad when Joel approaches your desk. 

“You weren’t this grateful when I was bringin’ you cafeteria food,” he mutters.

“This isn’t Kerri’s cooking,” you scoff.

“What do you mean?”

“Georgia isn’t bringing us food from the cafeteria,” you say, shock in your voice at his insinuation. “She's making this food at home for her family and bringing some here.”

“You’re tellin’ me that she’s been bringing you lunch from her own house everyday?”

“Well yeah, since I can’t go there anymore she brings it here.”

Joel recalls a conversation with Peter several weeks after he’d brought you back to the valley where he expressed concern about having enough food stores to feed his family. His kids weren’t eating him out of house and home, you were. He looks around your desk - where you’re eating your lunch - noticing you barely have room to eat since your desk is covered in gifts from Valley members. The file cabinet behind you is also covered in jars and trinkets, the wall behind your desk plastered with scribbled sheets of paper from the children.

Joel remembers Peter said that many residents were feeling the pressure of low supplies and wonders how many of them are giving to you what they should be keeping for themselves. He hears Tess come in the door behind him and bid you hello, which you answer with a nod as your mouth is stuffed full. Tess’ been living in the apartment above the office and is joining you both to walk to this morning’s meeting together. The meeting whose purpose is to address concerns over food-supply issues around the Valley.

“Well, I think we can cancel our meeting,” Joel mutters.

“What?” Tess says, sidling up beside him and grabbing a kettle chip off your plate before you can smack her hand away. “Why?”

“Cause I think I found the drain on the food supply,” he half-jokes.

“Are you calling me fat?” you ask, mouth full. “Or are you just blaming me for Mother Nature’s choice to bless us with a cold New England spring?”

“Well-” Joel begins to gesture around to everything surrounding you.

“It sounds like you’re jealous, Joel. People want to give me things because they respect me. When you were the big cheese around here, what did people give you?” You wait a beat to let his silence emphasize your point. “Oh yeah, I remember,” you snap your fingers as if it just occurred to you. “Pussy. That’s what you used to get. Seems like you just didn’t play your cards right,” you emphasize your point by crunching down on a pickle spear with a smug smile.

“Yeah well, ain’t gettin’ that anymore,” Joel mutters, grabbing the second plate Georgia delivered and claiming it for himself before you eat that too.

“Maybe we can shelve this conversation for later,” Tess begs. “We gotta get to the meeting.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it Tess, we can just burn me at the stake as the witch who caused the short spring and that blood sacrifice should make everyone happy, right Joel?” you mock.

“Anything you want, baby,” Joel shoves a handful of Georgia’s delicious kettle chips in his face before he adds, mouth full, “I’ll get the matches.” 

---

You’re both sitting at a small table in the front of the room, everyone gathered as an audience and taking turns giving supply reports, the news getting more grim with each passing account. As the meeting drags on into the second hour, Joel notices you’ve stopped taking notes and now have your eyes closed. You haven’t said much this whole time and he’s wondering if you’re upset with him for his earlier insinuation. He was joking - mostly - and he hopes you know that. You open your eyes and find him staring at you.

“You okay?” He mouths.

“This is going on forever,” you mutter, clearly annoyed. “It’s a lot of different people saying the same thing. We need more food.”

“Well, we can’t leave till we find a solution,” Joel whispers back.

You take a deep breath and stand up, letting your chair noisily slide on the floor as your legs push it back, interrupting the person in the crowd who was speaking.

“So sorry, Javi, I’m sorry to interrupt but can I ask a question?” The man nods his head, yes. “The community garden fields that grow past the cemetery, you’re saying that they don’t grow enough to feed our expanding community?”

“No, unfortunately not,” he says. “The seeds have to be started indoors to contend with the short growing season this far north and there’s only so many seeds that can be started.”

“Where do you start the seeds?”

“We converted part of our basement into a greenhouse.”

“Right,” you say, as if you already knew the answer. “So would you be able to help build a second greenhouse?”

“I don’t think I have the room-” he starts.

“I think we should convert the old mill into a greenhouse,” you interrupt. The building is concrete, it’d hold heat and moisture well. It doesn’t have power but it has the old wheel in the creek, it has potential.”

Sasha stands at the back of the crowd. “The creek is dammed upstream, if we remove the dam it would probably give the creek enough current to turn the wheel.”

Peter stands up in the front row. “I could take a look at the electric grid over there, if that wheel can turn I can get the hydropower running.”

“I’ve spent time in that building and it looked structurally sound but maybe you could look it over, use some of the lumber on-site to shore up any weak spots?” you ask.

Joel - dumbstruck - realizes you’re looking at him, that you’re talking to him, and he nods, wordlessly. He’s actually a little giddy to be included in the conversation.

You point back at Javi. “Are you ready to build a greenhouse?”

Javi nods his head and the room erupts into applause. 

Joel looks at Tess and she is beaming, grinning from ear to ear as she enthusiastically claps her hands, joining others in a standing ovation. You’re a fucking marvel. Joel sits there, slack jawed in disbelief, as the crowd filters out, many coming to the front of the room to shake your hand and express their confidence in your idea, offering assistance and hands to put in the work needed for the conversion.

Joel walks behind you and Tess as you leave to head home and he overhears Hank Mansfield call your name across the front lawn. You stride over and give the giant man a big hug, asking him how the family is and how everything is going at the farm. Hank says several times everything is going great and they miss you very much. He passes on some knitted socks he says are from Laurel and a cherry pie he says is from Amber before introducing you to the people around him as if he were your proud father.

“Well, not everything is great, right Hank?” Joel asks, eager for you to hear the bad news as well as the good. It’s important you get the whole picture of what it’s like to lead this place.

“Oh Joel, they’d be going a lot better if you hadn’t taken my best worker away from me,” Hank laughs, affectionately grabbing your shoulder. Joel watches as you shy from the attention, taking the misplaced compliment all the same. “I’m just kidding of course,” Hank continues, “this has been a banner year at the farm, and just in case I don’t say it enough,” Hank surprises Joel by grabbing one of his hands with both of his own massive paws. “We’re so grateful to you for lending this little lady to us.”

“Banner year? Hank, you said milk yields were gonna be down this spring,” Joel reminds him.

“Sorry Joel, I know you were never a farmer, but what else are the calves supposed to eat?” Hank says, laughing good-naturedly, a smile stretched across his face.

Joel’s face must show his confusion because you jokingly punch his arm.

“Hank said there’s been more calves born at the farm than any year since before all-” you point around vaguely, indicating the veritable apocalypse you all find yourself in. “He says I blessed the farm with my presence,” you smile at Joel, giving him a sly wink that no one else sees.

It’s true, Joel was never a farmer, but he knows damn well that any cows who gave birth this spring were impregnated by bulls long before you ever even stepped foot in this valley. But if Hank wants to give the credit to you and act like you’re some kind of patron saint of cows, who is Joel to argue?

“I know that must be true,” Joel says, a sickly sweet smile plastered on his face. “You bless me with your presence every day.”

You punch his arm harder in response.

---

You’re both standing in the kitchen later that night doing your nightly routine of washing the dinner dishes together. Joel scrubs the plates and you rinse and dry them.

“That was pretty impressive what you did today,” Joel quietly says.

“Yeah, yeah,” you dismiss. “Those people eat up anything I say.”

“It impressed me too,” he admits.

“Oh yeah?” you say, a flirtatious lilt to your voice. You turn your body so you’re facing him. “Did it impress you when Isaac suggested it two weeks ago?”

His hands stop their scrubbing motion. “W- what?”

“Two weeks ago we met with Isaac to talk about increasing the patrols around the school and he mentioned they had a converted grocery store as a greenhouse back when he was in the Montreal Safe Zone. He said we should do somethin’ like that here.”

“He did?”

“See? Joel, you don’t listen to people,” you sigh, going back to facing the sink.

“Alright,” Joel draws out the word. “You had a win today, don’t get cocky.”

“You don’t even listen to me when I tell you to listen to people,” you huff.

“You think listenin’ can solve all my problems, smart-ass?”

“What problems do you have, Joel?” you mock, facing him again.

“Oh, you probably can help with this one, since you’re the Cow Queen,” he sneers, “but all the calves you personally helped create are gonna be drinkin’ up a good chunk of our milk.”

“Well you should supplement some of the missing supply with goat and sheep milk,” you immediately answer. “I know the farmers drink it and I bet they’d share what they could if the community as a whole was short on supply.”

Joel blinks. Why didn’t he think of that? “How-”

“I talked to Bianca, she’s still stayin’ out on that sheep farm. She doesn’t give it to the baby or anything, but the family drinks it and trades it with the neighboring farms.”

“Th- that was an easy one,” he lies. The very next thing that pops into Joel’s head is your collection of gifts from the families around the valley. Supplies are still short this year, but he doesn’t want to ruin your good day. “What if we still have food-supply issues this year?” He frames the question with delicacy. “Your greenhouse idea is great and all, but I don’t think it’s gonna help us ‘til next year. Got any ideas for right now?”

“I might have a suggestion,” you look down at your hands to avoid eye contact. “But you’re gonna think I’m being a bitch.”

“I would never think that,” he says sarcastically. You roll your eyes and when you don’t continue speaking he grabs your hands gently and teases, “C’mon baby, I thought you had all the answers.”

You shrug his hands off and you both chuckle at his words, knowing there’s no real malice behind them. It occurs to you that you’ve come a long way in the two months you’ve been back in town, both personally and in your relationship with Joel. You feel powerful and in-control. You feel like you belong here. It would probably surprise the old you to hear the sarcastic bickering you guys engage in all day and know that you’re not even remotely trying to murder each other. Well, mostly. 

It would definitely surprise the old you to see what Joel does next. His hand chucks your chin up to meet his eyes and he leans in to kiss you on the lips, just once, gently.

This move doesn’t surprise the new you, because this is a common occurrence. Somewhere along the way you just decided to stop denying yourself what you wanted and stop berating yourself for wanting it. You told yourself to either forgive him or move on from him, and since you couldn’t make yourself budge, you forgave. You decided you’d stop holding on to all the ways Joel hurt you and stop trying to hurt him back. Well, mostly. Of course, you still make him work for it and give him shit at every opportunity, but the two of you matching wits and butting heads is the best version of you there’s ever been.

Some days it feels good to let him wrap his arms around you on the couch and daydream away in his warm embrace while he reads to you. Some days it feels good to let him into your bed, kissing him until your lips are swollen and your chin is rubbed raw from his scruff. Some days it feels good to let him bend you over your desk and clamp his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet while he fucks you senseless. Those days feel really good, actually.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he says, bringing you back to the moment.

“Kerri’s running those restaurants buffet-style and cooking everything in big batches. I heard it creates waste that I think could be eliminated if they cooked everything to-order. It’d take longer to make the meals and it’d be more work in general, so staffing would need to increase, but I think it’d conserve supplies.”

“Why would I think that you were bein’ a bitch?”

“Because I’m criticizing Kerri,” you look away from him again. “And we all know-”

“What a bitch,” he jokes. You try to shove him back but he doesn’t even budge, grabbing your hips with both hands and pulling you into him. He kisses your face and nuzzles your cheek. “You clever little bitch,” he coos in your ear. He drags his lips along your neck, humming as his whiskers leave goosebumps in their wake. “How about this one, Sherlock,” he taunts, still whispering into your skin. “We’ve had guns and ammo going missin’ for months and we can’t figure out how people are getting in and out of the armory.”

“Dustin helps patrol the armory, right?” you ask, referencing Peter and Georgia’s eldest teen, the seventeen year-old boy with a floppy haircut and mischief in his eyes.

“Yeah…” Joel pulls back, studying your face, skeptical that you would have solved it that quickly.

“Right, Dustin lets a bunch of his friends steal guns and ammo and they do target practice up the mountain on the weekends.”

“H- How the fuck do you know that?” Joel drops his arms from you, stepping backwards against the counter.

“Cuz I caught them sneaking out one day,” you shrug.

Joel’s eyes go wide. “And you just let them go?”

“Why not? I wish I’d had target practice when I was their age, maybe I wouldn’t be such a terrible shot now.”

“It’s not safe up that mountain, what if they run into infected? What if they run into somethin’ worse?” He levels you with a look, not having to speak the thing you both know he’s talking about.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I let them take the guns, isn’t it?”

A beat goes by in silence.

“You’re-”

“Are you gonna call me a bitch again?” you interrupt, hand held up in defense.

The quiet tension between you dissolves as a smile creeps onto his face.

“You’re so much better at this than I am,” he whispers. “Always thinkin’ ten steps ahead.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you push playfully on his chest, his hands back at your waist. 

“No baby, flattery gets me everywhere,” he whispers against your neck.

---

Later that night your soft moans echo off the walls of the big bedroom, sheets and blankets chucked off the bed, it being a sweltering June evening. You’re stark naked on your back with Joel’s face between your thighs, too caught up in the pleasure of his tongue to be embarrassed by the sweat rolling off your body and soaking into the bed beneath you. His mouth is moving in a perfect rhythm, exactly the way he knows you like, bringing you closer with each stroke he makes across your clit.

He’s been at this for a while and coaxed several orgasms out of you already, knowing that with each subsequent one you get more sensitive and it becomes that much easier to push you towards the next. Which must be why he lets out a muffled laugh, unsurprised when it doesn’t take much more than the slow, steady swipes of his tongue and the vibrations of his groans moving against you to bring you toppling over your peak yet again.

He sits up, allowing the relief of an evening breeze to blow across your damp skin from the window. After a moment of recovery you slide off the bed in a liquid motion, sinking down onto the floor between Joel’s legs. He makes a passing comment about your knees on the hard floor but it’s slightly cooler down here, so you’re not going to complain. Any additional protest from Joel is silenced when you take his balls in one hand and his shaft in the other and envelop him in the hot, wet cavern of your mouth.

You tease him with slow, lazy swirls around the head with your tongue and then move up and down, taking him deeper with each pass but never as deep as you think he’d like. In response Joel bucks his hips slightly - and maybe this was the reaction you were expecting, perhaps even attempting to elicit - but you pull off him with a pop and shake your head, chastising his greedy, needy behavior. Ever since the incident in the cleaning closet you don’t let him take charge of his blow jobs. If you’re going to be on your knees for him, he needs to know you’re the one calling all the shots.

“Is that how we behave, Joel?”

He whimpers. “I’m sorry, baby.”

A needy, whiny Joel under your heel is certainly sexy in its own way. The authority he lends you, the strength within yourself, and the respect you’ve earned makes you feel so fucking sexy, so powerful. He’s a puddle in your hands and you’re completely overcome with desire. But that’s not your favorite Joel.

You kiss his leaking slit. “Fuck me like you’re sorry.”

He growls as he yanks you up onto his lap, immediately devouring your mouth with his. You taste yourself on his tongue and know he can taste himself on yours. The tangy flavors of your arousal, the salty sweat of your skin, losing yourselves in the aroma of sex that hangs heavy in the air. Joel stands up - brute strength carrying you with him - before turning to toss you back onto the bed.

He pulls your hips back so your legs are over the side of the bed, ass high in the air, thighs together, and feet resting on the floor. The top half of you is bent forwards onto the mattress as he slides his sweaty body along yours, letting you feel every inch of him. His heaving chest at your back, his hairy thighs against your ass, his solid cock along your dripping seam. He puts you up on your elbows so he can reach one hand around and palm your tits, moving back and forth between the two, plucking your nipples until you’re begging him for more.

In a smooth, practiced motion he enters you, his girth meeting little resistance thanks to his repeated ministrations creating plenty of lubrication. He thrusts forwards into you, grabbing onto your flesh with both hands, as you cant your hips back to meet him. He brings his face down to kiss at your shoulder, whispering filthy nothings into your ear and biting gently at a scar he left once, before your moans start to push him towards his own edge. You can feel him beginning to lose control.

This is your favorite Joel.

He pulls out and quickly turns you over, pushing your knees back towards your chest and thrusting his thick length back into you. The new angle at which he’s fucking you is euphoric, filling you in ways you never knew you needed. He always feels so good like this, fitting inside of you with perfect precision. Like you were made for each other. Your keening wails increase, not having enough sense in your head to care how your voice is carrying out the open window. 

“You want everyone to know you’re gettin’ fucked in here?” Joel chastises. 

“Maybe I do,” you babble.

Joel grabs your hair and pulls your head back a bit. “Then you better tell them whose dick you’re about to come on.”

“I didn’t catch your name.”

“You’re such a little fuckin’ brat, baby.” He sinks his teeth into your neck just enough to make you cry out and clench down on his cock but not enough to break the skin.

“Joellllll,” you cry.

“That’s fuckin’ right, you tell ‘em,” he growls. He grabs onto the meat of your hips as his pace increases, fucking into you harder and feeling your body tightening around him in response. “Maybe I’ll fuck a baby into you, help you remember my name.”

Your answering mewl is practically a scream as you throw your arm over your face, biting down in the crook of your elbow. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you ramble.

“Don’t stop what,” Joel goads you. “Don’t stop fucking this perfect cunt or don’t stop talking about getting you knocked up?” You’re panting beneath him, right there on the edge. “Everyone would know who you belong to then, wouldn’t they?” Joel reaches up to pinch your nipples again as he roars "Mine," and he feels you clamp down on his cock, going silent.

His own hips stutter and his groans carry out the open window now, as he reaches his climax. Ropes of his come repeatedly cover your insides, both of you content in the knowledge that it’s not a time in your cycle when you would even have to concern yourself with what he’s been dirty-talking about. He places gentle kisses on your shoulders and chest as you both recover.

---

“I wanna move into the apartment above our office,” you say as you trace your fingernail on his chest.

“Why?” he quietly responds, his eyes on the top of your head, which is resting on his shoulder.

“Because, we don’t need this much space.”

“Oh,” he tries to hide his relief. “I’m movin’ with you?”

You tilt your head to look at his face. Even at this late hour the moon is reflecting enough light that he can see your features clearly. 

“You gonna live here without me?” you ask, the answer obvious.

“No.”

“Then I guess you’re movin’ with me,” you go back to watching your finger tracing your circles.

“Sure, baby,” Joel hums. “Whatever you want.”

His constant mantra, not just in word but in deed. He gives you anything you ask for, even if it hurts, he gives it. And whatever you take from him you give him back tenfold, because you know exactly what you’re doing. Even when he doesn’t, even when he can’t see what you see. Because you’re so fucking good at this. You continue talking, tracing soft shapes along his skin.

“Tess can move back in, she’ll have more room to help people here. Plus, Bianca wants to come back into town and Tess can baby-proof, and then Bianca and the baby can move in too.”

“Okay, baby.”

“And I want a town council to help manage the issues instead of everyone comin’ to us all day,” you jump topics, everything in your mind firing all the time. “And not just a bunch of your buddies, either. This town is 64% women and they deserve representation. So Tess, obviously, but I think Sasha too.”

“Okay, baby.”

A long beat passes. Your fingers have stilled. He thinks you might have fallen asleep.

“Joel?” you whisper.

“Hm?”

“You weren’t serious about that baby thing, were you? That was just horny ramblings, right?”

“Sure, baby. Whatever you want.”

🖤

NEXT (EPILOGUE)

Thank you Bug & Beef. You are my godesses. I love you. Thank you for putting up with me and all my whining (and thirsting) over CJ. xoxoxoxo

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the shed

lilac, chapter ten

a/n: the drama is here, folks. it has arrived. welcome.

summary: “he’s here,” you shuttered, your words barely above a whisper.

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, kinda mob!ex-boyfriend vibes, angst, crying, violence

word count: 2358

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“Hey, Otto,” you smiled warmly as the small town’s sheriff untangled his scarf from around his neck and marched up to where you were wiping a small table down with a damp cloth, “Donna should be here soon if you wanna sit with her during lunch.”

“Oh, I’d love to,” the seasoned man sighed longingly, “but unfortunately the stack of paperwork I left at my desk won’t allow me to hear the latest gossip. She’ll just have to fill me in tomorrow.” 

“So, to go then?” the rag in your grasp finished up its cleanly dance across the smooth woodgrain. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, thinking out loud as he glanced down to stuff as much of the scarf into his left pocket as it could bear, “right now I’m thinking a sandwich, unless, what’s your special today?” 

“Uh, it’s a dahl,” you informed him, carefully folding up the wipe as you stepped closer towards the kitchen door, the sheriff shadowing the short journey, “got lots of spinach and stuff in it.”

“Oh, it’s dahl day? Well, then forget about the sandwich, I’ll have some of that with rice, just rice, and maybe if you could also fill up my thermos with some fresh coffee, that would be great,” he opened up his coat and conjured the nifty decanter from a roomy inner pocket. 

“You got,” you uttered before he handed the flagon off to you and your feet carried you the rest of the way into the kitchen, “hey, dad?” you gently patted his shoulder as you walked past his stance by the stove to get to the coffee maker. 

“Yeah, sweetie?” he halted his stirring and tapped the turmeric-stained spoon on the edge of one of the simmering pots before resting it back down on a little plate to the side. 

Unscrewing the top off of the pastel yellow thermos, you gingerly streamed in some of the requested brew, “can you pack up a portion of dahl with rice for Otto?” 

“Yep, yep,” he fished out a spatula from one of the jugs on the counter that simply overflowed with various utensils, “tell him it’ll be one second.” 

Entering the dining space once more, you handed off the filled thermos to sheriff Nilsen, “here,” who now sat on one of the chairs, “he says it’ll just be a moment.”

“Thanks, kid,” he flashed you a warm smile just before you turned on your heel, “you have a great rest of your day, yeah?”

“You too!” you glanced back over your shoulder with a small wave. 

As you strode towards the lobby and the thick stack of mail you still hadn’t sorted through, a voice began to catch your ear. 

“Fiancé?” old lady Edith’s shrill tone cut through from around the corner, “well, I had absolutely no idea she was engaged,” as you entered the lobby from behind the front desk, your gaze seized to take in the individual the elder was conversing with as your fingers were too busy scooping up the stack of letters, “and to a fella as handsome as you? Well, isn’t she lucky.”

“Well, she just likes to be modest. One of the many qualities I adore about her.” 

Your body instantly froze as the man’s low timbre filled the inn. The shuffling of mail halted as terror shot down your spine.

Slowly raising your panicked eyes, they only seized to grow wider as they glazed over the back-turned individual standing opposite Edith. Shifting his stance, he uncrossed his arms and lowered them to his sides, the crisply up-twisted black button-down sleeves framed in and nearly made it impossible for you not to take in the sight of the recognisable ink that slithered out from under the hem, curled around the honied skin of his forearm and ended right on the back of his ring adorned hand. 

As the letters fell from your grip and casketed over the desk and onto the floor like a fallen jenga tower, the dull commotion managed to catch the pair’s attention as Edith’s hooded eyes trained upon your frozen frame and to your horror, the very reason for you being back here in the first place, turned around as well to spot you. 

“Oh,” a chillingly perfect smile spread across Preston’s lips, “hey, doll,” his tone ever casual as if he’d just talked to you two minutes ago, “there you are.” 

With your heart nearly bursting out of your chest, you didn’t even register that your feet had begun to move before you reached the backdoor out through the sunroom. 

Ripping it open, you sprinted out and over the porch, your speed only increasing as the dewy grass stained your shoes. 

Your eyes were wild, raking across the terrain, franticly attempting to come up with a plan as you went, but swiftly they locked upon where the thick forest began to bloom just beyond the patchy field that stretched between it and the inn’s garden. 

But as you glanced back over your shoulder, the panicked plan of escape withered and died as you spotted your ex marching through the sunroom, his visage clear through the latticed glass of the door. 

Whipping your head around, you spotted the small decrepit tool shed just a few paces to your left. Rushing to the rickety structure, you sucked in a sharp breath as your desperate push to one of the tattered double doors caused the faintest of clangs to reverberate from the rusty dinner bell that decorated the outside as an echo of the past. 

Gingerly shutting the door after you slipped inside, careful as to not evoke any more alarms and ruin your hiding spot, the lack of a lock on the simple doors had completely slipped your memory as your blurry vision stared down at the rudimentary pull handles and nothing else.

Hyperventilating and nearly feeling like you’d faint, you instead pulled over a dust-covered table and pushed it up against the exit, a few screws rattling and rolling off it as it settled in its new place.

Eyes transfixed on the doors, your feet began to back up, not halting till the rough wood of the far side wall stopped you. Reaching into your pocket, you blindly fished out your phone and dialled up the only number you could think of. 

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” Frank’s contrasting tone flowed out from the receiver, “thought I’d maybe swing by when I'm done here in town–…” although his genuine words abruptly ceased as a shuttering cry trembled from your lips, “…Y/n? What’s wrong?”

Your body shook so fiercely that keeping a hold of your phone proved to be a daunting task.  

“F-Frank,” you sobbed. 

“What, what is it?”

“…he’s here. He’s here,” you uttered shakily through your tears, “I walked into the lobby and there he was, I–, fuck…” you squeezed your eyes shut a moment, “Frank, what do I do?”

“Alright, listen to me,” his tone changed in an instant, “did he see you?”

“Y-yes,” you tried your best to keep your voice hushed. 

“Where are you?” 

“I hid in the old shed out back, but, shit, I'm not sure if–” 

Your fear then came to fruition as the doors suddenly rustled, bumping against the makeshift blockade before the attempt was dropped and a low knock instead found your ears. 

“He’s here,” you shuttered, your words barely above a whisper.

“Doll?” Preston’s voice seeped through the rotten wood, “I know that you’re in there,” he tried to shove the doors open once more, the whole world seeming to quake at his attempt. 

Eyes darting around the dim space, you spotted a small broken window to your left. Raising up your elbow, all of the adrenaline that pumped throughout your veins didn’t even let you register the pain as you slammed it against the remaining bits of jagged glass that were stuck to the window, as well as when the remaining short shards stabbed your palms and scratched up the screen of your phone as you desperately began to crawl out. 

“Come on, just open up the door, I don’t have time for any childish games.” 

The sudden sound of the door crashing open and the table scraping across the floor shot straight into your bones. 

Already halfway out, your knee bent up to hoist the remaining half of your shaky form out of the narrow opening, but just as you twisted to do so, a bruising grip grabbed hold of the leg and tugged you back inside, sending you crashing down upon the concrete floor. 

Motes of dust seemed suspended in the air as you coughed on the cold ground. Steadying yourself with your bloodied palms, your hazy vision found your phone by your side, shattered and completely dark. 

Seizing the crown of your locks, he yanked you back up to your feet.

“Now why would you do something like that, huh?” he uttered in such a mundane tone that you’d almost rather have him yell. Dragging you with him towards the doors and still hung agape on the rusty hinges, he grabbed a petite shovel that rested on the messy table and jammed the wooden shaft through the loops of the two handles. Gliding his dominant hand up your frame as he backed you up, the long fingers swiftly enveloped your throat as your back slammed against a wall, “I just wanna have a little conversation with you,” like splintery sandpaper, the rough wood scraped against your spine, and your eyes squeezed shut, “uh uh,” the stinging grip he had on your hair loosened, drifting his knuckles down your cheek in a cruel caress as he demanded, “look at me when I’m talking to you,” your whole frame jerked as you felt him land a harsh slap across your cheek, “show me those pretty eyes,” and your bloodshot glare blinked open, “there,” he wiped the tears that trickled down your face, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” your gaze flickered down to the ominous ink that glazed the appendage clasped around your airway. The head of the snake that decorated the back of his palm nearly looked like it was about to come alive and bite into your jugular vein, “you know, if you wanted to go on a little trip back home, all you had to do was say so, we could have figured something out.” 

Soon, your hands fluttered up to warily drift on either side of his, a shift that caused his jaw to clench. 

“Doll,” he glared down at your lacking jewel, “where’s your ring? Did you misplace it again? If you keep doing that, then I’m just gonna think you don’t like it,” his head tilted to the side in an almost sombre manner, “what, was the diamond not big enough? If you want something more showy, you know all you have to do is ask, money’s just money. Maybe a sapphire? You could look like Princess Diana. Hell, if you want the real thing, I know a guy,” his face slowly inched closer to yours, “I would do anything for you, you know that right?” he proclaimed with an eerie smile upon his lips, “anything, that’s how much I love you. Even if you can’t always wrap your simple little head around the reasoning in the moment,” his free fingers moved to brush some of your dishevelled hair into place, “it’s always because I love you.”

“Preston, please,” your voice was low as you gasped, fretful fingers lightly tapping against his unyielding grip, “you’re hurting me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he warned softly, rage crackling in his fiery gaze, “you don’t do that,” ignoring your struggling, he went back to wistfully fixing your hair, “you just stand there, like the pretty doll you are and be perfect for me.”

“C-can’t breathe–”

“Oh, you can’t?” his brows furrowed mockingly, “is this better?” he asked as his ring-adorned fingers tightened around your throat and squeezed so taut that no air could reach your lungs, “you are mine,” he pressed his lips to your cheek as your eyes fluttered and your limbs fought against the inevitable fate of shortly passing out, “you will always be fucking mine.”

But just as the world began to slip out from under you, a loud crash found your ears. Forcing your eyes to open, you witnessed as the door got kicked in, the improvised lock shattering into shards from the blow and scattering across the dirty ground.

Glaring over his shoulder, Preston exclaimed, “who the fuck are you?” 

Only looming in the doorway for a fragment of a second, Frank didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer as he rushed to rip Preston off of you.

As you crumbled to the ground, painful coughs escaped your frame. The shed still felt like it spun beneath you as your hazy gaze fluttered up to see Frank pin Preston against the wall. As if you were underwater, their voices seemed miles away as you watched Frank’s callused fist repeatedly collide with the side of your ex’s face. 

This wasn’t how you wanted it to happen. Every thunderous crack prompted a dreadful pit to dig itself within your gut. You weren’t doubting that Preston didn’t deserve this, but you had also come to learn a fragment of the truth of just how few of those punches it took for Frank to have an individual no longer breathing.  

Frantically casting your gaze everywhere and anywhere, past the garden, out in the driveway, the faint sight of the sheriff, lunch in hand, tossing his scarf around his neck and strolling back to his car, found your fuzzy vision.

Stumbling, you crawled out the door and weakly pulled yourself up enough to reach the short rope that hung from the old bell, the looming unconsciousness steadily catching up to you as you strained to do so. 

Ringing the bell once, twice, and on the third time, just as you saw Otto whip his head around in your direction, your vision finally faded to complete darkness as you crumbled to the ground. 

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