#as long as you rinse them out well you can wash them with the rest of your clothes

[satorusugurugurl]

Spot the Difference

Summary: You claim that you can tell whose who between your boyfriends. They decide to put you to the test.

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, AFAB!Reader

Warnings: smut, bondage, restraints, blindfold, oral sex (male receiving), pinv, unprotected sex, language

Word Count: 3,868

A/N: just a drabble! 💚

Several benefits come along with dating your best friends. Conversations were easy to have. Things were barely weird or awkward, and you knew each other like the back of your hand, from how you liked your coffee to your favorite snacks and meals. You knew your boyfriend so well, it was easy for you to tell them apart, even when you weren’t looking at them. That’s how close the three of you were.

“There’s no way you can tell them apart without seeing them,” Shoko called out as the four of you sat around the apartment.

“Yes, I can.”

“Both of them are muscular and over 6 feet tall. You think I believe you?”

“I’ll show you!” You grab one of Gojo’s blindfolds off the coffee table with your back turned to the group. “You two go to the kitchen and come back one at a time, and I’ll tell you who is who.”

Your partners were intrigued to see if you could tell them apart without looking at them. So they played along. Satoru was the first to come up behind. He rested his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist, gently squeezing you as he pulled you closer into his chest. While Suguru trailed his hands over your shoulders before gently running up and down your arms before they slid down to interlace with your fingers. The entire time he caressed you, his lips pressed gently against your temple. Once they each had a turn, they were back in their respective seats. You pulled the blindfold, tossing it onto the coffee table, and triumph

“Toru was the first, and Suguru was the second.”

Everyone stared at you long before Shoko scoffed, “I bet you could smell their cologne!” Both Satoru and Suguru exchanged looks with each other. Neither of them was wearing anything remotely close to that.

“Say what you want, but I know my boyfriends.”

Did you really know them? After that night, the duo made it their goal to see if you knew who was who and when your back was turned.

Geto snuck into the shower with you as you washed your face. His hands wrapped around you like Satoru had done the night before. With a grin, you lean back into his chest as you rinse the suds off your face. “Hi, Sugu.” While Satoru crawled into bed with you while you were napping, purposely laying on Suguru’s side, he pulled you close, careful not to say anything as you hummed, rubbing your hand over his arm wrapped around your waist. “Welcome home, Toru.”

They kept their antics up for over a week. Gently touching you from behind, snuggling, calling texting hell, they even switch their body wash and colognes around, and every time you knew who was who without hesitation, it was almost flattering to know you knew both of them so well. Still, it also made them curious to see to what extent you knew them.

Which was how you ended up, blindfolded, hands tied behind your back as you lay on the bed. Your arms were tied to each bed while you spread your legs as wide as possible. Your boyfriend stood at the head of the bed, taking your naked body sprawled out before them.

“Is there an early Christmas present in June?” You squirmed in anticipation, pressing your thighs together as you felt the bed dip as they both crawled near you. “Lucky me!”

“Nah, this is more of an experiment.”

“Oooh, kinky!”

Suguru scoffed, ruffling the top of your head. “Not like that; we wanted to play a guessing game saying that you know us so well.” You cooed, squirming a bit more.

“Still kinky.”

“We’re going to take turns fucking you, and you can guess who’s who by how we feel inside of you,” Satoru whispered in your ear.

“Pfft, easy money. What do I get if I win?”

“Uh, you get to cum.”

“Nah, fuck that, I know you guys have been testing me all week. I think I deserve more than an orgasm as a prize.”

Your partners hum, thinking for a moment before Suguru pulls his hand away from the top of your head. “How about we take you on a trip to Okinawa? I’ll book us at that resort we stayed in before.” Both you and Satoru nodded with excitement.

“Now that’s a reward!”

“A reward you’ll get if you can tell us apart.”

Satoru is the first to move, positioning himself between your legs as he slides the tip of his cock inside. You whine, arching your back as he continues pushing inside of you until he bottoms out. Suguru’s eyes are dark between both his partners, his cock throbbing as he wraps his hand around it, gently stroking it. The white-haired man is breathing, trying to make a sound so you don’t know that it’s him on top of you. But you seem so out of it, the loss of your side to enhancing the pleasure of gently into your cunt. His thrusts are sharp and deep, making sure to hit your g-spot with each drag of his velvety smooth shaft.

You moan lips, parting in a string of whispers as Toru grips your hips and one hand while the other covers his mouth as he fucks into you faster. You’re the only one moaning out as partners try to make it impossible for you to tell who is who. And listening to your moans and your moans alone makes the room hotter.

Your white-haired boyfriend is pulling all the way out before his hips forward. The wet squelching sounds of your pussy, join the sweet whines of your pleasure, making the erotic moment even sexier. While you lose yourself in the sensation of one of your boyfriends fucking into you, you never seem to notice them subtly changing position. Satoru is off to the side, groaning into his hand as Suguru picks up where his boyfriend left off.

The rough change of pace has your mouth falling. Your fingers try to grip the sheets underneath you, but you can’t reach them, so you dig your heels into the mattress, your toes curling. Seeing you lose control over yourself has Suguru covering his mouth with his elbow as his hand gropes your right breast, needing the soft flesh while his thumb rubs circles over your nipple.

“Nnngh!” You whimper, lifting your head, licking your side, searching for someone in the darkness. “Come back, I need you.” You beg into the room at Satoru, who is furiously jerking off at the sight of Suguru slamming his cock so deep into your tight cunt. “Oooh f—god! Fuck me, come back please!”

Satoru moves quietly, putting his cock next to your mouth. You jump at first, shocked by the warmth of the dribbling wet tip, probing at your lips. But you eagerly open your mouth, allowing it to slide in. Subaru dark brows knit together as he groans loudly into his elbow at the sight of Satoru biting down on his hand to prevent himself from moaning.

Both men aren’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The pleasure and eroticism of the whole situation are making their cocks throb as you gag and cry out around both of them as they fuck your pussy and your mouth as hard as they can. Both were chasing their orgasms while dragging you to the edge of your own with them.

Neither of them wants to stop, but they do. You gently tap his leg with your foot. He stops grabbing Satoru by his shoulder, pulling him back enough for his cock to pop out of your mouth. Both pant as you lick your lips, your chest heaving as you giggle breathlessly.

“As fun as this is, I want to hear your voices. So Satoru fuck my throat some more, and Suguru, go faster and harder.” As fast as they stopped, they picked up the pace even faster. They went back to filling both of your pretty wet holes.

Satoru is a whining mess. His cock is shoved down your throat while Sugueu is grabbing your hips fucking into your cervix as hard as he can. God, you were so good to them; you honestly did know them, and if that in itself wasn’t fucking hot, your crying out was even hotter!

“Haaah shit, fuck, you take it so good look how hot you are, sweetheart, choking on my cock. You’re gonna be a good girl. You’re gonna swallow every drop?”

“God, you’re so fucking hot, and you’re so fucking tight. My cock feels so good.” Hissing through his teeth, he brushes with his index finger. “Y-You’re convulsing, gripping my cock so tight, come on baby, you’re so close, cum for us!”

Between the friction and their nasty words, you cum, moaning around Satoru’s cock as you clench and twitch around Suguru’s. Your moans and trembling body have both your boyfriends cumming with you. Statoru’s cock is buried down your throat as his cum slides down it, causing tears to prick your eyes. While Suguru's hips buck faster and harder, ropes of his cum fill to the brim. But he doesn’t stop until his cock is over-sensitive, and he’s spent collapsing on top of you as Satoru pulls out, allowing you to breathe freely.

Swallow the cum; you pull away, gasping down air like it was water. You sigh in relief as Satoru unclasps the restraints around your wrists. The second you’re free, you yank Satoru down to snuggle with you and the still-recovering Suguru. Your hands gently play with both their heads. Fingers twirling around strands of white and black, winning groans of pleasure from both men. Only when Suguru feels like his soul has safely returned to his body does he lift his head to stare into your sleepy, spent eyes.

“How the hell were you able to tell who was who?”

“I just know my boys!” You giggle as he rolls his eyes, resting his head back on your bare breasts. “So, about that resort trip!”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3

[upuptahquamenon]

“Eww why do you use reusable pads, wearing a stained piece of cloth is gross/doesn't sound healthy.” Lol, well you obviously don’t know what I wear the other 24 days of the month. *pssst: If you don’t care about stains cloth pads dont require nearly as much time/labor/scrubbing/soaking as most brands would have you believe.*

[dioll]

୨ 𝑢𝑛𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑 — 엔하이픈 형들 ୧

♡ 𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 ・（𝑔𝑛）𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𓍢 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 ⊹ 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𖥔 𝑤𝑐 𝟨𝟣𝟤 ┊ 𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑣𝑒 𐙚 — 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇

𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝖺𝗒 ．．．

𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 — 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾

you’ve just stepped out of the shower, craving rest more than ever. sealing your evening routine with comfy pajamas, prepared to sink yourself into the softness of your bed.

“love, what’s wrong? you look exhausted.”

“long day, hee. i need to hibernate.”

chuckling at your response, heeseung wraps himself around your tired figure, gently stroking your back whilst placing light kisses on forehead.

“let me help you recharge, angel.”

rest under the cut

𝐉𝐀𝐘 — 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾

“i thought you said that you weren’t gonna wash your hair?” he asks you, as you exit the bathroom.

“i just rinsed it. my arms are too tired for my hair to be washed right now.” you reply.

“you know im here for a reason, let me help?”

jay sits you down on a chair, lathering his hands with shampoo before he begins to message your scalp.

he takes his time, removing every knot and excess oil, whilst being gentle. you feel safe with him.

“thank you, jay. i really needed this.”

“you can always rely on me, princess. i love you.”

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 — 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌

you lay relaxed on your bed, resting your eyes after a hectic week, prepared for the weekend.

that’s until jake barges in your room and flings himself onto your bed, hitting his elbow against your headboard.

“OUCH.” he winces in pain, dropping the tiny bottles in his hand.

“mhm, carry on acting stupid.” you say to him, scanning his arm for any injuries.

“ooh you love me.” he lightly pushes your arm in attempt to tease you.

“yeah yeah i do! what’s with the nail polish?”

“you haven’t done your nails due to how busy you’ve been. i’m worried for you, my love. make time for yourself, alright?” eyes gleaming at you with sincerity.

“i will, yun. thank you for caring about me.” you say before kissing his forehead.

“give me your hands, i’ll do it better than any nail artist.” he says, voiced laced with confidence.

you look at him with heart eyes, grateful for someone who’s there for you, even during tough times.

“i love you so much, jaeyun.”

“i love you the most, y/n.”

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 — 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌

you’ve been busy all day, just waiting for time to pass. all you wanted was your bed, and sunghoon.

the day comes to an end, and you’re prepared for a deep slumber but the discomfort in your back restricts you from sleeping comfortably.

trying multiple things to soothe your pain, none of them help. you lay on your stomach, eyes teary and nose runny. you’ve reached your limit.

your soft sniffles are heard by your boyfriend. he peeks through the slightly ajar door, looking at your hopeless figure.

he slowly enters the room, gently caressing your cheek, wiping the tears away. he pulls you into his arms, feeling safer than ever knowing that he’ll always keep you away from harm.

“what’s wrong, angel?” he asks, staring at you with concern.

“my back hurts a lot, and nothing is helping.” you reply to his question.

“why didn’t you come to me? you know i’ll always be more than happy to take care of you?”

you remain silent. you know he’s correct.

he gently lays you flat on your stomach, slowly massaging your back. at that moment, you feel your pain being lifted. relief comes to you, easing your body and mind. making it easier for you to sleep.

a smile grows on his lips once he sees you asleep, happy to know that you can now sleep with ease.

he covers your body with a blanket, kissing your tear stained cheek.

“love you so much, sleep well, dove.” he says as he switches off the lamp on your nightstand, before departing to bed with you.

♡・ @elysianiki @jwsdoll @flwrstqr @moknu @onlyjjong @jlheon @lcvclywon @hyeinism @junislqve @amouriu @jjunae @nishislcve @luvlyhee @mimiuius @jongocat

[daenysx]

Modern!aemond coming back from hard day at office so reader gives him a pamper day to get him back on his feet. I’m talking face masks face gels hair thingies all sorts to make him feel better and babied and he just LOVES IT and demands playfully for this every week

i believe aemond is the type of guy who has a skincare routine but just this once we'll ignore it. i hope you enjoy, thanks for requesting! (also i got a bit emotional instead of playful i'm sorry) <333

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, fluff

"you can lean back just a bit." you say quietly, your hands on his shoulders.

aemond does as you say, settling down on the tub you filled for him. it's much easier to access his long hair now. you wet his shiny blonde strands, the water makes them curling up on his shoulders.

he had a long day, he could barely stay on his feet when he got home. you like taking care of him when he's like this, tired and inevitably soft. you offered to wash his hair for him and he gladly accepted it with a pinch of pinkish color on his cheeks.

aemond has always liked the softness of baths and playing with bubbles since he was a kid. he draws shapes on his arms with foamy water now, with you looking at him from his shoulder. he turns his head to you, your eyes are gentle. it was a bit awkward at first being bare like this in front of you at the beginning of your relationship. the realization of getting used to it feels nice, though. you like every spot of his body. you let him know how much you like him. he trusts you.

you take his shampoo first, start rubbing it on his scalp. his hair is always flawless, you've never seen it messy except the mornings when he's restless enough in bed to put his head on the wrong side. you use a bit water to massage his scalp, fingertips pressing lightly towards his neck. aemond exhales deeply, he tilts his head back.

"does it feel good?" you ask.

"yes." he says quietly, the word flowing out of his lips. "so good."

you keep moving your fingers on his head, especially on the spots where you get a reaction from him. he tries to enjoy the moment of silence, your company has always been peaceful but now it feels like you belong to him, and only him. no other distraction, he has your full attention, and he loves the feeling.

your wrists get a bit tired from doing the same thing for a few minutes. aemond angles his head enough to help you rinse the shampoo. when his hair is clean, you reach for the conditioner. it needs to sit for two minutes so you decide to use the leftover foam from shampoo to rub his shoulders.

"you're so tense these days." you say, applying some gentle pressure on a tight muscle. "i wish you could relax a bit."

when he moves, a cracking sound leaves his neck. "i'm relaxed right now." he whispers. "relaxed when i'm with you."

you massage his shoulders until your wrists go numb. rinsing the conditioner, his hair is shiny and wet. aemond forces his eye to open to turn his head to the side. he kisses your hand on his shoulder, leans his face on it for a second.

"i can do the rest." he says. "thank you, sweetheart."

you kiss his shoulder nicely. "anytime."

leaving him alone in the bathroom to clean himself up, you go to kitchen. aemond doesn't like eating so late at night but he likes the herbal tea you got him recently. it helps him sleep better, he says. you prepare the tea for him and a cup of your favorite for yourself.

he looks much better when he meets you in the living room. you gesture him to lay on your lap until his tea gets a bit colder. he puts his head on your thighs.

"i got something for you." you say, showing him the skincare essentials you got him from your side of the bathroom shelf.

"what's that?" he asks, interested in the white bottle.

"that's an under eye cream for circles and puffiness." you show him the cream. "and this is a serum for hydration."

"and this?"

"it's a night cream for your face. moisturises really well."

"you'll apply them on my face?" he asks, his look is unpredictable.

"if you want, yes." you reply, with a smile. "they always help me with the tension on my face, you know, rubbing them with my fingers. i think you'll like the feeling."

"please." he says, giving you the bottle he has in his hand.

you apply the creams and the serum in an order you use for yourself. you're careful with aemond's scar, spreading the productions gently. he closes his eye, the lines on his forehead and the corners of his mouth get loose as you massage lightly on them. you kiss his forehead when you're done.

"your tea gets cold, my love." you whisper. he doesn't open his eye at first.

he reaches for your hand slowly, kisses the back of it and your palm. "no one's ever taken care of me like you do." he says. "thank you."

you don't want him to get upset. "i'm happy you let me take care of you. i'll always do that anytime you want. just like you take care of me."

"always." he promises. he accidentally falls asleep on your lap without drinking his tea.

[dwaekkicidal]

Curly Hair Routine with Changbin

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Teaching Changbin how to take care of his curls. based off this post/request!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1k (how did i do this.. i thought it was like 500)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: none really :3 just fluff and mentioned that reader has longish, curly hair

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: i saw a few moots repost that prompt and i have curly hair (like 3A/3B?) that i've been learning to take care of the last few years so :3 thought this was cyuuute!!! also probably gonna write chris' later today/tomorrow! (my insomnia came back so.. we'll see when it gets done LMFAO)

@chaeryred (also @httpdwaekki cause hehe) i hope you guys like it >< thought it came off a little messy but i still think its pretty cute

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

"YAH! IT'S TOO COLD"

"SIT STILL! I JUST HAVE TO WASH IT OUT-"

"NO!!!! MOM!!! HEEEEEEELP-"

After wrestling your boyfriend like a cat taking a bath, you managed to wash the rest of the conditioner out of his hair and wrap his head up in a towel. You sent him to sit on the floor in the living room while you went to grab all your products from your bedroom. Once you returned, you were met with the biggest pout you've ever seen mixed with the nastiest side eye known to man. His head is almost completely wrapped up in a towel, minus the big circle where part of his face peeks out, and his arms are crossed sassily.

You couldn't help but smile and chuckle, shaking your head as you dropped the products and tools on the couch. You sit directly behind him, putting your legs on either side of his shoulders and leaning him into you. He shivers and your heart pangs a little, but you lean forward and wrap your arms around him and rub them soothingly. A quiet 'hmph!' comes from him and you laugh again.

"I'm sorry, baby. You said you wanted to do my hair routine just like me. And I always end it off with rinsing with cold water." Your fingers sneak into the hole in the towel and pull it back some, exposing his cheeks more as well as some of his wet hair. He makes the angry noise again and throws a small fit, turning away from you and tugging the towel back to its previous position in defiance.

You peck his cheek a few times and combine it with a mumbled apology. Then a small smile forms on his face and you start ruffing the towel, rubbing your hands back and forth and using it to poke fun at him while also starting to dry his hair off. Giggles erupt from the both of you as he drops the tough act and reacts to the ticklish feeling, his distinct giggle ringing through your ears in the best way possible.

Once you both have calmed down, and he's no longer feigning distress, you start to gently dry his hair. "I brought a mirror too." His hair is mostly dry and you grab your brush before realizing that Changbin's eyes have been glued to the show on TV. This was supposed to be a learning experience so you wanted him to watch, but it was also endearing to see him trust you so blindly that he resorts to iPad-baby tendencies.

"Are you gonna watch me do it so you can learn, or was this just an excuse for you to get pampered?" You tease, tilting his head back gently so he can look you in the eyes. He smiles apologetically and reaches for the mirror, "Sorry, Bunny. Got a little distracted hehe. I am your apprentice tonight! Teach away, Jagi." You smile widely and lean down again to place a kiss on his lips. One he reciprocates it before fixing his posture and placing the mirror in position.

He then lowers the television down and sits there patiently, allowing you to take him through the steps and using the mirror to peek at what your hands are doing. You start it off by showing him the products and explaining what they do and then tell him how you're supposed to use them, using a strand of his hair as an example.

Each step doesn't take long, thanks to the fact that he memorized the first few steps of your routine; the brushing and cream application. What you did explain was the styling techniques. He could have just left it as is and not done anything, or he could do what you do and finger-coil each strand.

He had seen how you slaved over your hair for over an hour each time you finger-coiled it and was dreading his experience to be similar to that. But thanks to how short his hair was compared to yours, it was a cakewalk. However, when he tried to coil one strand himself, his fingers did manage to get tangled in each other a few times... but you have to experience something to really learn from it! And the texture of the gel you used seemed to drive him crazy, but he got used to it eventually.

Then it was onto drying! You had brought out the diffuser attachment- or.. what Changbin called the "claws of death," for your hair dryer. He had seen you use it countless times before, but it looked like a jumbled mess of things from the outside and he never knew if there was a technique to it or if it was just random movements.

After teaching him the tips and tricks you used for extra volume and just how to diffuse his hair in general on a small section of his hair, you watched proudly as he dried the rest of his hair on his own with little to no problems. You did a dramatic reveal, wiggling your fingers and adding a "Tada~" when he looked into the mirror for the final time.

He stared for a while, eyes tracing the unfamiliar, defined curls on his head. They were pretty, and you have literally never seen his hair like that before. But what really made it worth it was his reaction. A big smile grew on his face and he turned to you, crawling up the couch to give you a big kiss. "Thank you, Bunny."

"Of course, baby. You look good like this." You smiled and admired your handiwork for a while until you remembered that today was supposed to be your wash day in the first place.

"Okay!! Time for me to wash my hair now." You peck him on the lips and playfully shove him onto the couch, running away after. The pitter-patter of his steps chases after you and he wraps his hands around you once the water is turned back on.

"Wait. I want to do it!" He smiles widely despite the unsure face you make. But he's your Binnie, so it's kind of hard not to cave in. You agree and resume the same position he had earlier, sitting on the tile with your neck resting on the edge and your head hovering over the big bowl of the tub. He steals another kiss before gathering your hair products and directing the water to your head.

"Don't worry, Bunny. I'm a professional at this~"

Taglist:

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha

@bubblerizz

[roosterforme]

It Won't Be Long | Rooster x Reader

Summary: How are you supposed to tell your family that you have to leave? Especially when everything still feels new and flawless and beautiful? Bradley knows it will be rough to break the news to you, but telling Everett will be so much worse.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, adult language

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more!

"Oh, shit."

Bradley's heart sank as he read the paperwork that Maverick just handed to him. "Fuck," he groaned, fighting the urge to crumple up the pages. The sounds of conversation buzzing around him in the rec room faded to a dull noise that set his teeth on edge as he thought about how he was going to explain this to you. And even worse....how he would tell Everett. 

"Sorry, Rooster," Maverick replied, cuffing him on the shoulder, but Bradley didn't move except to shake his head a fraction of an inch. He should have known this was coming. He should have been prepared for this, but it felt like a slap in the face. You and he had only been married for less than six months, and he still felt like this was very much the honeymoon phase. How the hell was he supposed to spend a single day without you and Everett, let alone one hundred of them?

He'd been planning to take the three of you up to Disneyland for a little overnight trip during spring break. Kind of a precursor to a longer vacation to Disney World in Orlando in the summer. Well, now he'd be missing all of spring break. And he was going to miss opening day at Petco Park, too.

He vaguely registered that Maverick dismissed him early, and he heard Bob calling his name as he headed for the door. He stopped but didn't turn around as he told his future brother-in-law, "I'll call you later." He'd have to tell Bob and Molly soon, because you and Everett would need them if anything happened while Bradley was deployed, but he didn't want to talk about it with anyone until he told you himself. 

When he got home before you, it gave him plenty of time to mope while he got dinner in the oven. He decided to take a long shower, suddenly wanting nothing more than to change out of his fucking uniform. The Valentine's Day card he gave you a few days ago was still propped up on your dresser, and he sighed when he looked at the pretty flowers still blooming beautifully in the vase next to it. When he opened the card and read what he'd written, he wasn't surprised to find that he had it practically memorized after spending hours agonizing about what to say to his wife on a day dedicated to being in love.

Kitten, 

You changed my life and everything in it for the better last spring, and not a minute goes by that I'm not thinking about you. I hope you'll let me love you every Valentine's Day for the rest of my life. I hope you'll love me back for all of them. I'm so happy you're my wife.

Love,

Bradley

P.S.- How do you feel about wearing your collar, leash and your bodysuit tonight?

He set the card down again with a soft groan and stripped out of his uniform. The shower felt amazing, and he treated himself to your expensive body wash before he rinsed himself off. When he put on his sweatpants and started looking for a tee shirt, everything in his drawer seemed to have Top Gun or Navy Waves printed on it. He just wasn't in the mood for any of it since he knew he was about to have two conversations he'd really rather skip, so he pulled on the Phillies shirt that he got for Christmas from you and Everett.

The kitchen timer started going off at the same time he heard your car in the driveway, and Bradley ran back downstairs to get dinner out of the oven. "You're home early!" you said, bursting through the front door with Everett by your side, and for the first time since this morning, everything seemed more colorful and loud in a good way.

"Dad! I aced my math test!" Everett said as he came running into the kitchen, waving a sheet of paper in the air. "A hundred percent!"

Bradley's heart clenched as he picked Everett up in a hug and buried his face against him. "I'm proud of you, kiddo. That's what happens when you stop rushing through your homework."

He held onto his son a little longer than he normally would before kissing his cheek and setting him down. You eyed him closely as you dumped your work stuff on one of the chairs. He must have done something to give himself away, because a second later, you said, "Ev, you promised you'd take ten minutes to clean your room before dinner."

"Fine," he replied, his voice right on the edge of whining. Normally Bradley would remind him not to talk to you that way, but he let it slide right now. Everett headed for the stairs, and once he was out of sight, you were in Bradley's arms. 

"What's wrong, Coach?" you asked, running your fingers along his cheek before pushing them through his damp hair. "What's bothering you?"

When you gently kissed him, he didn't stop you. And when it took him a minute to reply, you didn't rush him. "Baby... I'm being deployed."

Your grip on him grew incrementally tighter as you whispered, "Oh. When?" 

His forehead met yours as he forced out the sentence, "I have to leave mid March, and I'm due back on Ev's birthday."

When you nodded, he could tell you were still letting his words settle in your mind. You took a deep breath and huffed out a little laugh as you whispered, "That's a long time."

Bradley swallowed down his guilt. "It's too damn long. I don't want to go fourteen weeks without you and Ev. I don't even like going a whole day when I can help it. I'm supposed to be here with you."

You nodded, and when you spoke, he could hear the tears in your voice. "We managed without you before, we can do it again. At least you'll get home on his birthday."

He collected you tighter against his body as he groaned. He would rather do almost anything other than miss his son's eighth birthday. "Kitten. Sometimes the dates aren't accurate. Sometimes the carriers run behind schedule. One time I returned a week later than I anticipated." 

You made a soft sound that left him reeling. "Well, if that happens, then I'll explain it to him. And we'll deal with it."

"Fuck," he grunted, slipping out of your grasp and gripping the edge of the countertop with both hands as his anger flared. "I don't want the two of you to have to deal with me missing out on celebrations. I already bought tickets for Ev and I to go to see the Padres on opening day! I was going to let him skip school! If I miss his birthday, I swear I'll be fucking sick, Kitten! And if Molly doesn't have the baby before March fifteenth, then I won't get to meet him until he's three months old!"

"Bradley," you whispered, ducking under his arm so you were right there between him and the counter. "Listen to me," you said, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. "This is why we love you so much. Because you love us so much."

You had tears in your eyes that matched his as he muttered, "I still feel like we just got married. Like every day with you is so exciting. And Ev didn't grow up with a military dad. He's not used to my lifestyle. I..." Bradley paused and dipped his head down, staring at your work shoes as he said, "I feel important every day because both of you rely on me for things around here. More than just my income. Ev and I do his homework together, and I like helping you cook meals. And I live for taking him to the park to play baseball. I live for it, Kitten."

With two firm hands under his chin, you shifted him so he was looking at you. "I said we would be able to manage without you because we did it before. We know how to do it. Not that we would enjoy ourselves, Bradley. My heart will hurt with worry every day that you're gone, and Everett will miss you because you're essential to his happiness. But this is part of your career, and you're very good at it."

Bradley knew he was crying now as he said, "I'll miss the beginning of his baseball season. He's the only one from his old team who is going to play real ball again this spring instead of tee ball."

You smiled and kissed his cheek. "All thanks to you. And I'll take a million videos for you to watch. I'll email them so you can scrutinize his technique, and then I'll help him improve. I mean, look how much more I know about baseball since I first met you."

Of course your words made him feel a little better. They always did. You always validated his place in this family when he started to doubt himself. "You've come a long way, Kitten. And it's a good thing, too, because I don't think Ev is going to lose interest in baseball any time soon."

You smiled as your lips skimmed his. "I really hope not since the two of you turned the extra bedroom into a Phillies shrine."

"Why are you both crying?"

Bradley's gaze snapped toward Everett who was halfway between the bottom of the stairs and the kitchen with a concerned look on his face. "Ev," he started, unsure how to handle this conversation. Part of him wanted to wait until after the three of you had eaten dinner, but right now, he looked very upset.

"Is Aunt Molly okay?" he asked softly. "She was crying the other day when she said the baby was hurting her back."

When Bradley still hesitated, you said, "Aunt Molly is fine. She texted me a picture of her swollen feet at lunchtime." Then you leaned in closer and whispered, "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No," Bradley replied immediately. "No, I'll do it." But it was harder than he thought it would be to get the words out in a way that would make sense to a seven year old. Why had he convinced himself that he'd be good at this parenting thing? He didn't even know what the hell to say right now. "Grab our gloves," he told his son. "Let's go out back and toss a ball around before we eat dinner."

Everett perked up immediately and ran off, only to return with two well worn baseball gloves and a baseball. "Okay."

Bradley slipped on a pair of shoes. "Okay."

Wordlessly, they threw the ball around for a bit, the quiet space soothing the part of Bradley that was terrified of fucking this up. "Hey, Kiddo?"

"Yeah, Dad?" Everett asked as he threw a scorcher to Bradley.

"You remember how we talked about deployments before?"

"Yeah." His voice was softer this time, and his face fell a little bit. "I remember. It's when you have to go way out into the ocean and fly off of an aircraft carrier."

"Yeah," Bradley croaked, squeezing the ball as hard as he could in his right hand. "I'm going to have to leave to do that in a few weeks."

He watched as his son tried to be strong and keep it together, but then Everett's face crumpled as he started crying. "But you said that lasts for months," he said as he looked at the ground, and Bradley rushed toward him. "And I heard Jayden in my class say deployments are really dangerous."

"Ev," he replied, dropping the ball and his glove and kneeling right in front of him. He swiped at the tears with his fingers as he said, "I can't stand it when you cry. It breaks my heart." 

But Everett just cried more. "I don't want you to leave now. You just got here!"

"Kiddo," he whispered, wrapping him up in a hug. "I'll be back soon. It won't be long. Nothing we can't handle."

"But what if something happens to you?" 

Bradley's heart shattered and was immediately put back together. He hated making you and Everett worry about him, but the fact that you both loved him enough to care made him feel whole. He kissed his son's tear streaked cheeks and said, "The only thing that's going to happen is me flying around in my jet for a few weeks before I come right back home. Sounds pretty boring, right?"

He nodded against Bradley's shoulder. "Yeah, I guess so."

Bradley kissed his forehead and whispered, "I'll be so bored without you. I'm going to need you and Mom to take a bunch of photos and videos and email them to me all day long. And I'll need you to ace all your school assignments and be well behaved for everyone except your Aunt Molly. You think you can do that?"

Everett shrugged, but when his glove slipped off of his hand, he hugged Bradley around the neck. "I'll try, Dad. But I'll miss you."

A tear slipped down Bradley's cheek as he managed to say, "I'll miss you, too."

-------------------------

"It's not time yet," you told Everett as he sat on the couch with the iPad on his lap, staring at it longingly. "Ten more minutes. Why don't you finish your math homework while you wait?"

"Because I like doing my math homework with Dad," Everett explained as he looked at you like you were absolutely ridiculous for even suggesting such a thing. "I want to solve the problem with him."

Even though it meant you would have less time to talk to your husband about other things, you'd let Everett do math homework with him over FaceTime. It wasn't like Bradley was going to complain. They were two peas in a pod. Everett even had the Phillies current pitching stats printed out and ready to share. 

"You'll have to show him your countdown, too. We're getting closer."

Before Bradley left, he and Everett cut up countless strips of paper and wrote numbers on them so Everett could conduct a countdown until his eighth birthday. Until the day Bradley was supposed to return home. There had been a gigantic paper chain snaking through the house, but now you were down to your final ten loops. Just ten more days without Bradley.

When the iPad rang, Everett nearly dropped it in his excitement, and you ran in from the kitchen. "Dad!" he said as Bradley's handsome face filled the screen.

"Hey, Ev," he said, sounding exhausted and relieved. "I miss you, Kiddo. Where's Mom?" 

"She's right here." 

Your son tilted the screen, and Bradley sighed. "Kitten."

"Bradley! We miss you. Ten more days!"

A crooked smile broke out on his face, and he kept his eyes on you for a beat longer while Everett started telling him all about baseball practice with his new coach and how his baby cousin Charlie threw up yesterday and about how the Phillies won three games in a row. You lost him to your son just like you knew you would as soon as Everett asked him for help with his homework. 

You sat quietly on the couch while Bradley looked at the math sheet and helped him work through the problem. Then Everett showed him the remaining length of the paper chain countdown, and as soon as that was finished, Bradley said, "Great job, Kiddo. Now why don't you go clean your room up before bed while I talk to Mom?"

"Okay. Love you, Dad!"

"I love you, too," he promised. "And I'll see you on your birthday."

Everett handed you the iPad and ran upstairs to his bedroom. "After all that, I only get three minutes alone with my husband this week," you said with a little smirk.

Bradley groaned and shook his head. "I can guarantee when I get home, I'll be on you nonstop. Don't worry about that, Baby. We won't sleep for days."

You bit your lip and laughed as he groaned. "What do you want for your birthday, Coach?"

He glanced around the small room where he was sitting before he said, "You can find that information written in your Valentine's Day card. Maybe throw in some vanilla frosting, and I'll be all set."

"Sounds good," you replied, and his smile grew. "We'll count down to Ev's birthday, and then we'll count down to yours."

"Speaking of which, did you get his present ready? All wrapped up in a box?"

You nodded as your heart fluttered. "Exactly to your specifications," you promised, picturing the package you had stashed in the linen closet.

"Perfect. I need to make it up to him for missing opening day for the Padres. I hated disappointing him."

As you glanced around your living room at the remaining countdown numbers and Everett's completed math homework, you said, "Something tells me you could never truly disappoint him. See you in ten days, my love."

-------------------------

"Dad!"

Bradley rushed through the crowd on the dock and headed for his family. You looked beautiful, and somehow Everett looked like he grew six inches in three months, but everything was perfect again once he had an arm wrapped around each of you. He kissed your lips and squeezed you to his side. "I missed you, Kitten," he murmured, knowing you wouldn't be too mad if you weren't his main focus until later tonight. "Happy birthday, Kiddo," he said with a smile as he released you to hug his son. "I missed you, too."

Everett clung to him when Bradley knelt down, and he stood up again with him in his arms. "Last week, my new coach said I have a heck of an arm. And school's already over. Mom took a video of my last day on Friday. You have to watch seventeen new videos from last week. We can watch them together tomorrow before we go out for pizza with baby Charlie and Aunt Molly and Uncle Bob."

Bradley buried his face against Everett's shoulder, excited to hear him talking a mile a minute in person. "Absolutely. But first, let's get home and open your birthday present."

The ride in your car was filled with your voice and Everett's, and Bradley sat back with a smile on his face and his fingers laced with yours. "How was the aircraft carrier?" Everett asked.

"Boring, loud and uncomfortable. And they never showed the Phillies games on TV."

"We can watch the game recaps!"

Bradley was already daydreaming about taking a few days off work, lounging on the couch with Everett until lunchtime, going to the park to play baseball, and then making love to you all night.

"We can definitely watch the game recaps," he promised as you pulled into the driveway next to Bradley's prized Bronco. "But first, I really want you to open your birthday present."

He didn't change out of his uniform. He didn't even remove his boots. He just gave Everett the box wrapped in red and white paper after you handed it to him, and he watched his son tear into the paper while your hands came to rest on his chest. "You are the only birthday present that kid wanted," you whispered.

Bradley felt the flush rising in his cheeks as you kissed his neck, but Everett had the lid off the box now. "I don't know about that, Kitten. I think he'll like this one," Bradley replied as Everett put the Phillie Phanatic hat on his head and read the paper he found in the box out loud.

"Three tickets for the Phillies game at Citizens Bank Park! On the Fourth of July! Behind the dugout! That's where the Phanatic dances! We can see the Phanatic for real! In Philadelphia!"

"Told you," Bradley whispered against your lips as Everett ran around the living room, already thrilled for his first trip to Philly.

But you were shaking your head and looking up at him with the most sincere expression as you said, "Just wait for it."

And you were right. A few minutes later, after Everett's excitement for his Phillies tickets tapered off a bit, he asked, "Dad, can we build a blanket tent and watch Toy Story and eat popcorn?"

Bradley paused where he was unlacing his boots and smiled. "Under one condition."

Everett smiled back and shrugged. "Okay. What is it?"

Bradley tossed his boots aside and said, "We change into our matching baseball pajamas and grab the stuffed Phanatic from your bedroom. And Mom gets to join us, too."

"Deal."

An hour and a half later, Bradley was watching one of his favorite movies with two of his favorite people. You were feeding him popcorn and teasing his hair as you lay with your head on his shoulder in the blanket fort. Everett was sound asleep, draped across Bradley's chest, and it felt so good to be home, he almost started crying. 

"I missed this so much," he whispered, kissing Everett's forehead. "Missed my family."

You hummed softly as you raked your fingers through his hair. "Like I said, going to the Phillies game will be great and all, but having you home today was the only thing he really needed for his birthday."

Bradley grinned and asked, "And does my Kitten need me, too?"

You popped up from his shoulder and whispered, "Why don't you carry Ev up to his bed, and then I'll let you find out."

-------------------------

I love emo Coach Bradley, and it was definitely time to check in with the three of them. He never wants to be the reason Everett cries, but that kid loves him so much, it's unavoidable. Let's check back in with them again soon. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[kmoneymartini]

Morning, sunshine - km20

a/n- this was based off that one @spellboundstarlet post about morning sex w/ Kate so hope y'all can bear with me here.

Warnings: smut (oral- Kate r), fluff scattered around the fic.

Not proofread and I can't spell for shit so have fun

Mornings with Kate we're your favorite, they never lasted long though, she usually got up super early for practice, but today it was pushed back a bit due to the cheerleaders needing the court.

You woke up to the sun beaming through the windows, squinting your eyes, you look to your right to see a six foot blonde asleep next to you. Her mouth slightly open and her hair disheveled, god she's beautiful.

You press a gentle kiss to her nose and her eyes flutter.

"morning, sunshine"

She wraps her arms around you sleepily and pulls you closer, snuggling her face into your neck and taking in your scent.

"I love you" her raspy morning voice always gets you. Making you incredibly horny all the time.

"I love you too baby."

"what time is it?" Again with the voice, the deep tone, the rasp, the tiredness lingering. It's perfect

"it's only nine"

"really?"

"mhm"

She cuddles into you, now wanting to be little spoon as you trace random shapes along her toned stomach.

You slowly make your way down her torso. Under her sweatpants and at the hem of her boxers. She squirms into your touch and lets out a soft whimper.

You move your hand lower, pressing small circles on her bud, making her moan slightly and attempt to hold back the buck in her hips.

"doin so good baby." You praise as you stop circling her.

"take these off for me?" You tug at her sweatpants as she lifts her hips, you take the boxers with you and set them off to the side.

You move down to her clit, kissing around the area as you push open her legs and massage her thighs gently.

She whines and attempts to hold back another fatigued buck but failing.

You finally find her entrance and lick a slow stripe up to her bud. She grabs ahold of your hair and moans breathlessly.

You eat her out slowly. Taking your time and savoring her. Her sweet taste, the soft whimpers, the need for you.

Your tongue finds her entrance and slowly pushes in and out of her, collecting her taste.

Neither of you are very vocal during sex, just being close band knowing each others body so well keeps you content.

Her hands clech on you hair, gently pulling you closer as her climax builds.

Her whimpers get more frequent and her hips buck more and you know she's almost there.

You pace stays the same, slow and calming taking in all of her.

She gasps and the seal broke letting the wave of pleasure take her as she whines.

You don't stop until the final wave has washed over her and she's all cleaned up, lapping up every bit of her before coming back up and kissing her lips.

She groans slightly at the taste of her and wraps her arms around you.

"you did so good for me Kate" you mumble into her neck, moving up to attach your lips to her lazily.

The kiss is slow and sleepy. Just enjoying each other's presence.

______________________________________________

After a while of just laying in bed tangled in eachother, you eventually realize Kate has to go to practice.

"Kate c'mon let's get you rinsed off, hm? Get ready for practice."

"nooooo" she whines and pulls her face into the crook of your neck.

"c'mon get up D1 athlete"

"ughhhmmmm" she dramatically groans finally letting go of you and flopping back on the bed

You get up and pull her with you.

"come on I'll take a shower with you." You say pulling her dramatically limp body from the bed.

She perks up, "okay"

She complys and walks to the bathroom with you, taking off the rest of her clothes and putting her hair up, you did the same.

As soon as you get in the shower, shes hugging your from the back with her chin on your shoulder, eyes heavy and relaxed.

"Kate"

"yea?"

"you need to wash off"

"I'm comfy" she nuzzles into your neck and pulls your waist backwards.

"kate-"

"nooo"

You pry her off you and wash her off with a loofa quickly before she can attach herself onto you again, but of course as soon as her whole body is lathered up she's clinging onto you again.

"Kate come on"

"but your comfy"

"Kate"

"no"

"Kate Martin, rinse off the damn soap and get dressed." You say firm, it's the only way she'll listen

"yes ma'am."

I literally can't end a fic good for the life of me so whatever

[tlou-reid]

could you do an aaron hotchner x bau wife where she’s up all night throwing up and he just takes care of her

tw vomit and vomiting!!

do your daily clicks

"hun," aaron coos as he walks into the bathroom. his voice was groggy and deep, reflecting the fact that he'd just woken up. you were doing your best to be quiet, not wanting to wake him. you knew he spent a lot of time not being able to sleep, whether it be from working or the nightmares the job caused, so you tried to let him rest as much as possible when he was home. but, the nausea in your stomach that had lingered all day finally spilt over, sending you rushing to the bathroom a little after one in the morning.

"i'm sorry," is all you can mumble out from your position with your head practically in the toilet. aaron doesn't reply, choosing to slowly sit next to you, bringing one hand to hold your hair out of your face and the other to soothingly rub down your back instead. you're happy to have his presence, not liking being alone while you're vomiting.

you two sit like that for a few minutes. you can't really tell how long it takes for your stomach to settle, but you refuse to move your head away from the toilet, just in case.

"any better?" aaron asks, rising from his spot on the bathroom floor. "a little," you mumble. you were being honest, getting some of it out helped settle the nausea, but your body ached and your throat burned. "i'm sorry," aaron echoes your sentiment from earlier as he hands you a clean wash rag. you wipe off your face as he lays another across the back of your neck. the chill makes you jump at first, but you quickly enjoy the feeling.

"want to brush your teeth?" he questions, helping you stand. you nod in response and he moves to grab your toothbrush. he sets it up for you, with a small bead of toothpaste and runs extra water over it. once he hands it to you, he brings his hand to rest comfortingly on your shoulder.

"did you eat something bad?" he questions after you hand him the toothbrush back and go to rinse your mouth. you shrug, "my stomach was messed up all day, it might've been the jet." aaron nodded in understanding. no one on the team was especially prone to airsickness, but after gruesome cases, being sick from the movement was possible.

"well, lets go get some crackers," aaron instructs, reaching out for your hand. you don't have the energy to argue, to tell him no, i just want to go to bed, so you take it, and let him lead you to the kitchen.

he led you to a stool in the kitchen, helping you get on it and relax against the counter in front of you. once you were settled, aaron turned on the light over the stove and reached in the cabinet for the box of saltines you kept for when jack was sick. you were grateful he didn't turn on the big overhead light.

"we don't have any ginger ale," he informed, reaching for a bottle of water instead. he knew if it was cold, it would upset your stomach more. once the crackers and bottle were sat in front of you, aaron said, "eat slow, so it doesn't upset you more."

you nodded in reply, slowly bringing a cracker to your lips. you ate three or four, before sliding them across the counter, signaling to aaron that you were done. "did they help any?" aaron asked as he cleaned up.

"yeah, but i want to try and sleep." aaron nodded at your words, moving to help you off the stool and get you into bed. despite being unsure if there was vomit in your hair, he let you cuddle up to his side, making yourself comfortable.

"feel any better?" you nodded in reply, closing your eyes. aaron gently rubbed his hand along your side until you fell asleep.

[syrma-sensei]

→ Different World, Different Words.

gif credit.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!reader.

Rating: Explicit.

Warnings: Soldier Boy's pov, Ben's being a fluffy yet dirty bastard, ben's being smitten with you, domestic fluff, dirty talk, fingering, size kink if you squint, swearing a lot of swearing, doesn't necessarily follow the canon plotline.

Word Count: 866.

Summary: Ben's trying to fit in this fucked-up, new world.

“So it means a pussy.”

“For the millionth time, Ben, No!”

He shakes his head, unconvinced, “A man who does the most motherfucking cringey stuff to impress a chick. In my times we were used to call him a pussy.”

Ben puts the dish he just rinsed in the drying rack then takes the plate full of soap she just washed. The topic of modern slang was brought up at the dinner table a few minutes ago, when Ben was trying to literally impress her how adaptive and quick he is.

This time she's the one to shake her head, biting adorably on her lower lip, “Well, yeah but—” She snaps her head to the side to look at him. He's huge compared to her, almost covering the entire sink with his figure. A wide smile on her face, “Wait a minute, did you just say cringey.”

“Yeah, so?” He glances at her from the corner of his green eyes. He could've sworn he saw pride in her eyes. His heart skips.

“Where did you learn that from?” She asks teasingly, proceeding with doing the rest of the dishes.

“Urban dictionary.” She makes a snoring sound, and his eyebrows knit in confusion, “What? That whining cum-guzzler told me about it.”

She wiggles her eyebrows, lips puckering up amusedly, and he feels wildly tempted to crash them with his lips.

“Oh, poor Hughie, must've been fed up with your pussy this and pussy that.” She lets out a giggle, “Can't blame him tho. The things come out of that tongue of yours can be so gross sometimes.”

“Diffrent times, different words.” He says, “Still don't make sense to me.”

Ben then raises an eyebrow, watching her drying her hands with a towel when she's done, he follows her when he is too. He hums playfully, lips curling up into a mischievous grin. “Hmh, last time I checked, you liked the things I do with this tongue of mine.”

A deep crimson colour smudges her cheeks, she looks at him with adorable, upset face. “Well, yeah, it has some perks.”

“Oh, yeah?” With his strong arms, he lifts her effortlessly up to the countertop. Her face meets his, her cheeks are still red despite everything. “How about going to bed...” He pecks her lips, once, twice. “and let me fuck this pretty pussy nice and slow,” In a matter of seconds she's chasing his lips for more, “and show you the wonders my tongue is capable of.” He caves in to her want and gives her a kiss. Long and devouring, his tongue is already in her mouth, exploring and tasting, and swallowing her moans.

“Oh, God.” She breathes against his lips, “Ben I can barely walk thanks to last night's fucking. I don't have your fucking supe stamina.” She keeps on kissing him, nevertheless. Nibbling and sucking on his lower lip in such a teasing way, while her small hands cup his bearded cheeks.

Ben groans deeply, burying his face in her neck. “You don't have to do anything, just take what I give you.” His hand slides in between their frames to find her clothed clit. He smirks, filthy little slut; the thin layer of her panties is practically drenched. “Oh, baby, sure you don't wanna let me fuck you dumb tonight too?”

She lets out a pathetic moan when his fingertip presses to her erected clit. She holds onto his strong biceps for support as he proceeds taunting her, “Hmh, bet you can't wait to squeeze my cock empty in your fucking slutty pussy.”

“Ah, Ben, p-please...!” She whimpers, hips rolling against his fingers for more fraction.

“Shhh, I got you.” With one firm move, Ben rips her panties away.

“Ben!” She chides, “Quit doing that to my clothes!”

He fakes a sympathized hum before he buries two fingers in her cunt. “I'll buy you new ones.” A devious grin adorns his mouth, “Though you don't need any around me.”

With half-lidded eyes, she glares at him. And his heart swoons at the cute, angry face she's giving him. “God, you're the worst.” She huffs and kisses him furiously. A deep chuckle rumbles within his chest, his fingers curl and twist inside of her drawers, her arousal glistening wet on his knuckles.

“Ben, fuck!” Her thighs squeeze shut on his fingers when shivers her orgasm out. “Fuck, Ben, st-stop it's too much!” She begs him as he fucks her through her high.

She rests her forehead on his chest when he pulls out. “You're a dick.” Her voice is muffled by his shirt.

He laughs amusedly, “Though you like it.”

“I like your dick, not you being one.” She gazes up at him, giggling. “You just enjoy fucking me up.”

“Yes, I do.” He says, a brutal grin on his lips, “I love ruining you.”

She roughly pushes him away with her foot on his chest, he raises an eyebrow at her as she jumps onto the floor, still quivering from her orgasm.

She glances at his bewildered face over her shoulder, giving him a wink, “Then stick to your words and ruin me in bed, tiger.”

Ben follows her with a wolfish grin on his face.

🦅 The Boys Masterlist.

🦅 AO3.

[fairy-writes]

Hello dear! How are you? I hope you are doing great💕

I'd like to request an oneshot with William J. Moriarty, where he has just returned from a mission with minor injuries on his back and his wife (preferably feminine, but if you're uncomfortable gender neutral is fine!) takes care of him. There she sees the scars from when his foster mother would punish him so she caresses and kisses his back😌.

With prompt 7

I really hope this is not confusing and thank you very much in advance. 😘😘

KNOW WHEN IT’S ENOUGH

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader

Prompt: “Enough is enough, and your best is good enough.” (Dialogue Prompt #7)

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader

Notes: I’m weak for people calling their significant other “love.”

Vague references to the Hounds of the Baskervilles chapter(s) of the manga!

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It’s late when William gets home. 

You wake to the sound of the bedroom door opening and see him in the light of the dying fireplace. Your husband is haggard, covered in dirt, and looks like he’s two seconds away from passing out. 

You’re out of bed in an instant, gently working his long black coat from his shoulders and guiding him toward the shared bathroom in your chambers. 

“I’m fine, love. Really, it’s merely a few scratches.” He says, and you hush him as you turn on the oil lamps and flit about the bathroom like a busy bee. You gather bandages and ointment from under the sink and draw a bath. Setting your supplies on the counter, you turn to face your husband. 

William is leaning tiredly against the doorframe, watching with something akin to amusement at your fretting. 

“I promise you, I’m alright.” He says, and you shake your head, approaching him and dusting some dirt off of his cheek. 

“I want to make sure, William. Please?” You whisper, and he sighs, cupping your hand and keeping it there. He leans into your touch and offers a small smile.

“When can I ever say no to you?” He whispers, and you grin brightly. 

You turn away to give William some privacy as he sheds the rest of his clothes. You’ve already seen all of him. As he’s seen all of you. But it still seemed appropriate. 

The splash of water alerts you, and you turn to see William sinking into the bath, eyes closed and looking utterly at peace. You fold his clothes and set them aside as he starts to relax. His arms hand out of the tub, and as you drag a stool to sit behind him, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even move as you lather some soap in your hands and scrub it deep into his hair, getting all the dirt and smoke out from the golden strands. 

Once done scrubbing his hair, you take a cup that was beside the tub and fill it with water to gently rinse the grime from your husband’s hair. 

“What was the mission about this time?” You ask softly, and his eyelashes flutter but don’t open, as if you had woken him from sleep.

“Some nobles had been kidnapping children and hunting them for sport. Fred was worried, so we went and took them down. The children were rescued.” He says simply, and you hum.

“What about the nobles?” You can’t help but ask, and he finally tilts his head back and opens his eyes to look at you. 

They’re tired and dark.

As if he had done something terrible.

He likely had.

You weren’t a fool. You weren’t necessarily privy to William’s methods, but you were well aware of the lengths he would go to achieve his goals. 

“They got what they deserved.” Is all he says, and closes his eyes again as you comb the wet hair from his eyes. You nod once,

“I’m glad.” You reply. The two of you sit in silence as you gently wash the dirt from William’s shoulders. 

Then you noticed the faint red color coming from his back, leaking into the water and turning it pink.  With a frown, you gently push William forward from where he was relaxing to get a good look at his back. He moved without a fight.

William wasn’t necessarily well-built or massive like Moran. He was lithe and lean, built almost like a dancer rather than a fighter. 

He was also covered in scars. Old and new. Some were from past missions. Others were not. 

Though William wasn’t one to talk about his past, you had gathered enough in passing conversation to know that Albert’s family wasn’t the kindest to him and Louis. You knew the both of them were adopted from an orphanage as a charity case rather than out of the goodness of the Moriarty family’s hearts. You knew their birth son, whose name your husband had taken, was especially cruel to the boys. And you knew that the mother was quick to physical violence. 

But to this extent?

You traced what looked like an old scar of a belt buckle, and it was then that William realized just what was going on. He sat up quickly, turning to say something but stopped when he saw the look on your face. 

It was then that you realized you were crying. 

Tears streaked your cheeks, and you wiped them with soapy fingers, careful not to get the suds in your eyes. Droplets of water dotted your nightgown, but you paid them no mind. He turned so he was facing you in the tub and reached with a wet hand to cup your cheek.

“Why do you cry, my love?” He asked, and you gave a rather sad, watery sort of smile.

“Because you’re always doing so much with no regard for yourself. You took all that witch’s punishments without complaint, without so much as a word against her.” You whispered, and his eyes turned so unimaginably sad.

“I have to. I have to try my best to help others.” He replied, and you shook your head, leaning to press a kiss to his shoulder.

“Enough is enough, and your best is good enough. You can’t work yourself to death. I won’t stand for it.” You say, and he doesn’t say anything else.

So, once he’s clean, you fetch his robe, a towel, and a fresh change of night clothes. You wait until he’s clothed from the waist down before dressing the injuries on his back. They’re minor in severity and won’t need stitches, but you clean and bandage them nonetheless.

All the while, William doesn’t say a word.

Until you’re nearly finished, that is. 

As you’re wrapping the last of the gauze around the worst of the largest injury, he speaks. 

“Thank you.” He says quietly, and you smile, although he can’t see it. You lean and press a gentle kiss to his back, right over his heart.

“It’s not a problem. I love you.” You reply, and he hums.

“I love you too.”

[poemsillneversend]

In another life, we’ll stay up all night together.

We’ll manage our lives together seamlessly.

We’ll clean on Saturday mornings so we can enjoy the rest of the weekend.

I’ll make the coffee and pick out an album for us to jam out to.

You’ll sing along to our favorite songs while making pancakes.

We’ll laugh and dance and you’ll use the batter-covered whisk as a pretend microphone.

We’ll finish cleaning up after breakfast, and I’ll join you in the shower.

We’ll scrub each others backs, and make out while rinsing off under the hot water.

You’ll follow me back to bed, the bed you freshly made with clean sheets just hours ago.

We’ll make a mess of it and make it up again.

You’ll tuck in the corners.

We’ll spend the afternoon at the library.

I’ll pack a picnic and you’ll read your old favorite books to me.

I’ll kiss you in the dusty History section, and when I think no one is looking,

I’ll touch and tease you some more.

You’ll take me to the bathroom and lock the door because you want me so bad

You just can’t wait any longer.

We’ll get caught and almost get thrown out and we’ll run away laughing.

I’ll drive us home, but maybe I’ll stop somewhere secluded first

And touch you just how you like it, from the safety of the backseat.

In another life, we’re so fucking good together.

I’ll hold you when you need to cry,

you’ll make me a hot cup of tea when I forget how to take care of myself.

We’ll cook dinner together.

I’ll wash the dishes and you’ll put them away.

I’ll clean and cut up fruits and vegetables to snack on.

You’ll motivate me to be good to myself when I don’t feel like it.

We’ll remind each other to take our vitamins and meds.

I’ll make you a smoothie when you don’t feel like eating.

You’ll tell me I’m beautiful when I don’t recognize my own reflection.

I’ll tell you you’re worth the world, because you are.

I’ll sweep the floors so you can mop.

I’ll do the laundry and you’ll mow the lawn.

When we’re both having a bad day,

We’ll let each other be as grouchy as we need to without judgement.

You’ll kiss me when I can’t make myself get out of bed.

I’ll gently play with your hair when you can’t sleep.

I’ll say something careless on occasion and you’ll be rightfully upset.

We’ll both feel guilty.

I’ll shut down and you’ll implode.

You’ll call me out and I’ll get defensive.

I’ll take way too long to process and understand my feelings as well as yours,

And you’ll get tired of explaining it to me and eventually give up.

You’ll feel invalidated and I’ll feel confused.

We’ll work through it and try not to hurt each other again,

Even though we both know it’ll happen again anyways.

We’ll grow to resent each other in new ways.

In another life, maybe we’re still no good for each other.

[soupandsimple]

James with fussy baby girl 🥲

* James getting into crib with baby girl to calm her down

……….

So. Tired.

Your baby girl had been sick the past week and now that she was coming out of it you were picking it up it seemed.

After putting baby girl to bed at around 8 that night, you decide to head to bed early too to see if you can get ahead on your rest for the inevitable oncoming sickness.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to run you a nice warm bath first?” James asks before you head into the bedroom.

You shake your head, “No, I just really want to lie down. Maybe in a little bit if I wake up.”

James smiles tenderly and kisses the top of your head. “Okay, I’m just going to wash the dishes from dinner and then I’ll be in there with you, yeah?”

Too tired to oppose his offer of washing the dishes after his own long day at work, you sleepily nod and get into bed. Taking one last look at your sleeping daughter through the baby monitor on your nightstand, you then close your eyes for rest.

James, busy away in the kitchen with the dishes, only gets about half of them rinsed for the dishwasher before he has to stop upon hearing a wail from his baby girl.

“Shit…no no…” he panics, turning off the running water from the sink and throwing the pink flowered latex gloves off his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey” he quietly says after sprinting to the nursery, “What’s the matter huh?”

His presence doesn’t seem to be enough because baby girl continues shrieking in discomfort while standing upright at the bars of her crib.

James knew she wasn’t feeling at her best yet but if he picked her up and took her out of the room to cuddle on the couch, the chance of you waking up from your much needed rest was higher so thinking quickly on his feet, he decides to comfort his daughter there as best he could.

Lifting one leg then the other, he gets into the crib and scrunches himself up as small as he can to lay on the little mattress.

Still crying, baby girl instantly drops to her knees and lays her head at his chest then magically falls silent once his hand begins to rub on her little back.

“There we go, love bug. Let’s get some sleep and help mummy by being so, so quiet” he soothingly tells her.

Now obviously James meant well by not wanting to wake you up but unfortunately (and funnily so), he wasn’t the brightest of men because he totally forgot about the baby monitor you had in the bedroom.

You’d actually woken up at baby girls first shriek but had heard James running to the nursery all at the same time. You knew it was because he didn’t want you waking up, so giving him the win you watched everything on the little monitor screen with your head lying comfortably on your pillow with a small smile etched on your lips.

You’d tell him you saw it all and thank him for it tomorrow but for now, you went back to sleep with peace in mind that baby girl was well tended to as well as with a heart full of love for that wonderful, wonderful man of yours. <3

[ilguna]

☼ childhood friends (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; after three years of not talking to Finnick, you get reaped for the Hunger Games, and he decides it's time to apologize for leaving you behind the way he did.

warnings; swearing

wc; 3.6k

–

When you finally became eligible for the Hunger Games five years ago, you accidentally started a nasty habit of wishing to get deathly ill to avoid the reaping. All you want is to get sick enough for the peacekeepers to give you a pass, because if they think that you’ll die before you reach the arena, then they don’t want you. The Capitol wants entertainment, and a sickly tribute is a boring tribute.

The goal is to survive the illness, whatever it may be. Let it take weeks for you to recover, if that’s what has to happen. As long as you don’t die from it, because that’s exactly the problem you’re trying to avoid.

You didn’t live seventeen years of your life only to be reaped and thrown into an area to fight for your life. You made it this far. You have one more year until you’re free from the reaping. Free.

Unfortunately, for the past five years, you’ve woken up as healthy as the day you were born. There’s not a single symptom that you could bend to look malicious. You think that if you end up surviving this year’s reaping, that you’re going to go around licking doorknobs to make sure that you’re sick next year.

You turn to the bathtub full of water that your mom’s been filling for you while you made breakfast. It’s probably not even warm anymore, but you have no choice. She won’t let you go outside unless you’re well-dressed in the chance that you do get selected in the reaping. She won’t have her eldest representing the family badly.

You step into the tub, and pleasantly find that it’s lukewarm. It won’t be this way for long, you have a small window to get yourself cleaned up and hair washed before it turns ice cold. You sink into the tun, letting it warm your skin slightly, and then you get started.

As you scrub your skin with a bar of unscented soap, you stare at the adjacent wall. In the Capitol, you heard that they have running showers. You can turn the knob and have hot water come out immediately, and bathtubs that they can fill with hot water without having to wait over an hour for the water to boil first.

They might have those appliances here somewhere in the district. If you had to guess, you’d say the Justice Building, where the mayor and his family stays, or any of the victor homes in Victor’s Village. Since they won the Hunger Games, it’s nothing but the best for them.

You bet that they forget that the rest of the district doesn’t have the same luxury as they do with the hot water. Even the upper class part of district four doesn’t have showers. The houses were never installed with them—maybe better bathtubs. You can’t imagine how expensive it would be to run that water.

You don’t think you’d leave the bathroom ever again. You’d sit under the water for hours, letting the water hit your face, or the top of your head. You’d close your eyes and imagine the warm rain that you get in the summertime. And you would be able to do that every day until you got sick of it.

Instead, you’re stuck with a bar of soap, and a tub of cooling water. The same water that turned a slight shade of white because of the soap, that you now have to use to wash your hair. You could get your mom to brew you a whole new tub, but you don’t have time for it. She leaves only enough room to get you in and out before the rest of your family gets in.

You turn your head to the side while lowering your hair into the water to get it wet, squeezing it a few times to make sure the water sticks. After that, you reach for the bland bottle of shampoo that smells faintly of strawberries if you smell hard enough. You lather, and then rinse, and when you’re done, you pull the plug on the tub to let it drain while you get dressed.

You dry your body, and start on your hair for a minute. You stop when you realize that it’s going to be a longer process than you expected, and opt for pulling your dress on, being careful not to get it wet. The moment you open the bathroom door, arms full of dirty clothes, heading for your bedroom, your mom is already passing you with the first pot of hot water for your little sister’s bath.

“Drop the clothes in the hallway, I’ll clean them later tonight.” She tells you, eyes landing on your hair, “Do you need help putting your hair up?”

“If you have time, or I can do it myself.” You shrug.

“Grab a chair and take a seat in the kitchen.” She directs your chin upwards, correcting your habit of looking down, “I always have time for you.”

You give her a half-smile, dropping your dirty clothes in the hallway while you head to your room to grab the hair ties and brush. When you look at your clock, you see that there’s only an hour and a half before the reaping. It seems like a lot of time, but with a family of five, it takes so much longer.

You brush your hair while you wait for her to come into the kitchen, several pots are on the stove with the heat turned to high. Your brother sits in the living room, playing with his toys, and your dad is nowhere to be seen. You’re pretty sure he bathed last night to avoid today’s mayhem.

“Sit.” She tells you, you pull out a chair.

She’s gentle when she pulls on your wet hair, used to your younger sister’s whining about rough hands. She’s never been bad about the brush, it’s more of her redoing your hair several times to make sure that it’s absolutely perfect. It’s one of the struggles that come with having to appear as a lower middle class family. They’re always about image, even if you have nothing to show.

Your mom’s side of the family used to be a line of jewelers. She was even raised to appraise precious jewelry. She would buy jewelry at a low price and turn around and sell it higher. It worked out for your grandparents for a while, until your mom asked for a better cut on the profit, since she was the reason why they were making so much.

Her parents denied her, and then shut her out entirely, firing her. By then, your mom had already married your dad, so she had him to fall back on. She watched as her parents started to lose profit, and lost business altogether because they got rid of her. And when they came to her, asking for her charity, she laughed in their faces and told them that they’re dead to her.

You haven’t seen them, not since you were young. From what you remember, they lived in a big house, more bedrooms than they needed. It wasn’t even your mom’s childhood home, she says they sold that and upgraded. They must’ve moved to a different part of the district, because you’ve never accidentally run across them.

Your mom’s always told you that if you need her, then she’ll come running, no matter the situation, no matter the reason. It’s the least she could do because her parents couldn’t step up and give her a little more money for her work. She says that once you turn eighteen, she’ll get you a job at the fabric store she works at, and she’ll make sure that you’re well taken care of.

You know she doesn’t mean to, but sometimes she makes you sad.

“Okay, all done.” She says, “Maybe sit in front of an open window so it dries faster.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She grabs your face to press a kiss to your forehead, “Be ready in an hour.”

“I will.” You smile.

You wander back to your room, or rather the room you share with your sister. You prop open the window, and instantly a warm breeze comes through the air. It’s a shame the Hunger Games takes place in the middle of summer. It’s the only time of year you genuinely enjoy, and it’s ruined by the Capitol.

You sit on the edge of your bed, staring out the window. One minute turns to ten, and you’re sure that you should get up and get your shoes on, at the very least, but you don’t move. You can’t get your eyes to focus either, no matter how hard you try.

There’s something wrong, you’re not usually this drained before the reaping.

You blink slowly, turning your head away from the window to look at your room. Your mouth screws, and you force yourself up to pull on your shoes. You go back to sitting on your bed when you’re done, playing with a string on your bedsheets. 

Your sister comes into the room soon after, already dressed and hair done. She briefly looks at you before getting to her knees to play with her toys. It doesn’t last long until she sets them down and looks at you, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You glance at her, and then at the window.

“Oh, well,” She shrugs, “I had a dream last night that you got reaped.”

“Don’t say stuff like that.” Your face twists, finally coming back to life, “Especially not to mom.”

She doesn’t say anything, playing with her dolls. The two of you sit in here for another thirty minutes, before your mom is collecting you to leave. You close the window in the bedroom, and briefly check on the state of your hair in the bathroom. It’s not perfect, you knew it wouldn’t be, but it looks good enough. Your mom nods in approval.

The five of you leave the house, heading to the District Four Justice Building. You’re not the only family heading that way, most of the neighborhood is leaving too, all on foot. Cars are also a luxury for the rich, but even they’re too expensive for the victors.

When you reach the area where you need to sign in, your mom kisses your forehead, and then your dad does too in the same spot. She then reaches over and redirects your chin upwards, “With beauty and grace, (Y/n).”

“I know. I’ll see you guys in a little bit.” You smile.

Your sister is barely eligible for the games this year, she’s just turned twelve. You watch as your parents repeat the process with her. Your brother’s got another three years before it’s his turn to experience the reaping. You hold your hand out for your sister to take to guide her through the process.

You get signed in first, and then wait nearby to watch her first time with a reaping day peacekeeper. They pass her easily, and she hurries to stick close. Inside the fenced area are hundreds of girls and boys, all varying in age. You bring her to the back, where the twelve section is.

“I’ll see you right after, okay?” You fix her hair.

“Okay.” She agrees.

You move down the aisle to the front, where the other seventeen year old girls are gathering. It’s fairly empty up here, allowing you to pick a spot without blocking anyone else’s view. You’re not sure if they’d mind anyway. When you were younger, you’d use the older teenagers to block the stage’s view of you, afraid of them picking you just because they felt like it.

You let out a breath, and raise your head.

Most of the chairs on the stage are filled by the regular occupants, like the mayor, and your Capitol escort. In the other chairs sit the victor’s that District Four has had over the past sixty-seven years, there’s four of them.

Mags Flanagan, she’s the oldest victor up there because she’s the first victor of District Four. To the right of her sits Muscida, another female victor, she’s younger than Mags by a good twenty years. The next in line is Librae, she’s in her thirties. And the very last and recent victor is the only male that Four has had so far, and that’s Finnick Odair.

He broke the record for the youngest victor, previously it was fifteen, but he set it at fourteen. It’s going to be an impossible record to beat, since every thirteen year old that goes inside of an arena is dead within the first to third day. They never last past the first week.

Finnick’s the same age as you are. You used to be really good friends with him, since his family lived in the same neighborhood as you, and you went to the same school together. After he won, they all moved into Victor’s Village, and you never really had the same friendship as you did before.

You tried to be normal, for his sake. At school, you saw how everyone else was treating him and figured that he’d want things to go back to normal. You could see past his arena-self, considering he did what he had to in order to survive. You guess that he couldn’t handle it anyway, because eventually the two of you stopped talking, and then he stopped coming to school in general.

Despite now living in two different areas of District Four, you still manage to see him every year at the reaping. You can’t imagine what it’s like mentoring, especially since he had no choice when it comes to the job. The district requires one male and one female mentor. You think you’d go insane.

Briefly, Finnick looks up, and manages to catch your eyes. They’re gone in the same second.

Right as the big clock hits ten thirty, the mayor steps up to the podium to start giving the Dark Days speech. After hearing it so many times, you’re sure that you could recite this in your sleep without missing a beat. It’s the same speech, nothing changes to the script. You’re forced to stand here and listen to him drone about it.

And when he’s done, the Capitol escort steps up to the microphone. She’s dressed in bright colors, and has a wide grin on her face. You guys have had her for the past two years, you think you preferred the man before her. He was less peppy and seemed to realize the monstrosity he was committing by selecting children to fight to kill each other.

“Happy Hunger Games!” Her accent gives you a headache, “And may the odds be ever in your favor. We’ll start with ladies first.”

She wanders over to the girls’ glass bowl with thousands of slips inside of it. Only five of them should have your name on it. You suck in a breath between your teeth, holding it while she picks a slip from the middle. She holds it up in the air, a folded piece of white paper held shut by black tape. She then moves over to the microphone, shimmying her shoulders in excitement as she unfolds the paper.

She takes in a breath, a smile overcoming her face, “(Y/n) (L/n).”

You can feel the air leave your lungs, lips parting as you struggle to intake air. Somewhere out there behind the rope, you think you can hear your mother’s anguished scream. Several heads swivel to find you, hands balled into tight fists to distract from the jelly feeling in your legs.

Move.

You step out of the seventeen section and into the aisle, where the peacekeepers immediately come to your side to guide you to the stage. You press your lips together, head falling to look at your shoes, when you’re suddenly reminded of her gesture. You raise your chin and start down the path, trying to appear brave.

The Capitol escort’s got this smirk on her face, you look away from her and to the stairs, which feel almost impossible to take. One at a time, you’re raised until you’re on the same level as they are. She guides you next to the microphone, and you plant your feet there, eyes wide as you stare off into the crowd. A large sea of bodies, too many to fit in the square, so they fill the streets and alleyways nearby.

You take in deep breaths through your nose to contain the tears that want to take over your body. You don’t even realize she’s called the boy's name until she’s demanding that you two shake hands. You turn, and find a boy from the sixteen section. His hands are wet when you touch them, and he looks like he’s going to puke. 

The Panem anthem then plays, and as soon as it’s finished, you’re pushed to go inside of the Justice Building. They bring you to a vacant room, where you’re left to pace and wait for your family to come. You only had one more year of this until you were free, you just had to get reaped at seventeen.

The door swings open, and in comes your family, your mother rushing to hold you tightly. She squeezes the air out of you, letting out a quiet sob, “Why didn’t you tell me that your sister had a dream that you’d be reaped?”

“Because you’d react this way.” You murmur, hugging her back. Your dad comes over to stroke your hair. “It’s okay, mom.”

“You must be good.” She says, pulling away to hold your face, “You must show them that you’re wonderful. You can do that.”

“I can, because I learned from you.” You agree, “It’ll be alright.”

Your brother and sister wander over, both of them with tears in their eyes. You hug them tightly, promising that you’ll be home soon. The peacekeepers come back, telling you that your time with your family is up. Your mom insists on pressing a kiss to your forehead, the same with your dad, before they leave.

“You’ll be good.” She tells you, “Tell me that you’ll be good.”

“I’ll be good, mom.”

It’s a few minutes before they take you and bring you to a car to transport you to the train station quickly. You chew on the inside of your cheek while staring at the window, continuing to take breaths to calm yourself. The station is crowded with reporters when you get there. You avoid the cameras and head inside of the train, where the doors shut behind you, and the train begins to move.

You let out the breath of air that you’ve been holding.

“Congratulations!” The escort says, you eye her warily.

“On what?” Your counterpart asks, “On our death sentence?”

A frown comes over the escort’s face. You can hear a familiar laugh, and he shows himself a second later. Finnick’s got this smirk on his face, “What did I tell you about congratulating the tributes? It’s insulting.”

“Regardless of what you think,” she suddenly hisses, “It’s required of me to do.”

Finnick raises his eyebrows, “Right. Why don’t you take Landon to his room?”

She presses her lips together, “Fine, let’s go you two—”

“No, I need a second with (Y/n). We need to talk.”

The way Finnick speaks is so much different from what you remember. He was never this direct with people, he had a tendency to beat around the bush to avoid hurting feels. It has something to do with the confrontation aspect of it, and he never wanted the drama of having a rivalry.

Now he seems like he doesn’t care. He stares at the escort, waiting for her to object, but she must think that it’s not worth it, because all she does is shake her head at him before leading Landon off.

He turns to you with a toothy smile, “I’m going to pay for that later.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” You laugh.

Without saying it out loud, the two of you gravitate for a hug at the same time. You squeeze him tightly, letting out a slight laugh. The last time you talked to him was three years ago. So much can change in such a short amount of time. You probably don’t even know him anymore.

“I just wanna say I’m sorry.” He begins, pulling away, “After the games—”

“I don’t blame you, Finnick. How can I?”

“I don’t know, we were close. We grew up together, I thought you’d be angrier.” He rubs the back of his neck, “I tried with the whole school thing, but no one treated me normally except for you. And I thought it would be enough but there was that one week where you got sick and I had to do it all alone. I couldn’t, I didn’t even make it through the week.”

“I know. You did what you had to do. And you seem to be doing better now than you were before, right?”

He nods, eyes falling to the carpet flooring, “Yeah, something like that. It sucks that it took you getting reaped for me to say something.”

“I’m happy you’re talking to me at all.” You tilt your head, “If you wanna make up for it, though, you’ll make sure that I’m set up to win.”

Finnick’s eyes meet yours, a mischievous grin crossing his face, “Oh, you have no idea the wonders I can work for you.”

[daenysx]

Hi love!! I hope you’re having a wonderful day, could i possibly request a sirius x fem reader where reader just had an unbelievably long day at work (im projecting uni is kicking my behind) and she comes home so worn out and extra clingy cause she needs extra love and attention from sirius and of course our pretty boy is more than happy to oblige? thank you <333

this is so relatable, thank you for requesting angel, i hope you enjoy!

sirius black x fem!reader, fluff

sirius is trying to watch a film while he waits for you at home.

well, he's trying but he's not very good at focusing on the plot today. he keeps thinking of your voice, your sad and tired tone, your fake words to convince him that you're doing okay and he doesn't need to come get you from work. he keeps staring at the screen of his laptop just to make minutes go faster, his eyes are empty when his mind is full of you.

the sound of your keys unlocking the door makes him jumpy a little, he leaves the laptop on the couch to see you. your bag hangs from your shoulder, your eyes look puffy from what he can see, you don't look steady enough to move one more step. sirius frowns but he's quick to take your bag as you kick your shoes.

"welcome back, lovely." he says, quietly. you give him a worn out smile, sirius helps you with your jacket before he takes you in his arms. your hold isn't nearly as strong as his but you still hug him. he realizes you are almost ready to melt into his arms but you need a little time to do that. he brushes a quick kiss on your hair before he can see your face better.

his warm fingers push your hair back. "are you okay?"

you nod, giving him another smile. "better."

sirius supports you gently to go to the bedroom. you sit on bed as he brings you some comfy clothes. the way your eyes seem so blurry breaks his heart, he wants your spark back. he kneels in front of you and holds your hands, a kiss for each knuckle.

"can i help you change?"

you squeeze his hands. "i want to take a shower first, i think. i feel so messy like this."

he nods, stands up from his spot. "do you want me to come with you?" normally he'd ask the question teasingly, he'd smirk until you go mad but this time he's being cautious.

you nod, shyly. "but i don't think i can stay on my feet for too long."

"i'll hold you." he says. "i'll wash your hair and rub your back a bit under hot water, yeah? how does it sound, gorgeous?"

you smile and pull his face towards yourself with the last piece of strength you have. you kiss him for how sweet he's being, he wants to kiss you longer but you don't feel good enough and he knows.

sirius practically carries you to the shower, he helps you out of your clothes to get you under the hot water. he gets in with you, you lean into his chest as he holds you from your waist, his fingers are drawing circles on your skin. you make a sound that melts his heart, your muscles finally get to relax. sirius holds the back of your head to press your face on his neck. you kiss him and close your eyes, the water takes away all the stress you have from your tough day.

you think you'll fall asleep on your feet, leaning against sirius. he washes your hair and his long fingers rubbing your scalp feels perfect. he rinses the shampoo slowly, massages your shoulders with the rest of the bubbles. he cups your cheeks to see your eyes, finds them unfocused and sleepy. "come on, you lovely thing. you have to wait until we go to bed to sleep, yeah? i'll finish in a minute."

you hum, your head falls on his shoulder as you hold onto him like a koala. "i love you so much."

sirius's laugh echoes in the bathroom. "i know, baby." he says. "i love you, too. just keep your eyes open for me."

you nod, trying to do as he says. he finishes quickly just like he promises and you are out of the shower. you don't even have to move a muscle, sirius does everything for you. he doesn't say anything until he gets you nice and comfy, you feel like your heart will explode out of the amount of love you have for him.

you feel a lot better after a warm shower, you decide, the minutes spent under water clean you up in every way. you can feel the thoughts in your brain still exhaust you, but you can't have everything you want at the same time. for now, being physically clean helps a lot.

you change into the clothes sirius picked for you, one of his t-shirts and one of your little shorts. water drips from your hair and you try to use the towel to keep it a little dry. you sigh when your muscles stretch in a comforting but disturbing way.

sirius comes next to you after he finishes getting dressed himself, he stays behind as he takes the towel from your hands. he gently gathers all your hair in his hand and kisses your neck lovingly. you close your eyes, his lips feel like heaven on your skin. tilting your head back, you lean into him until he gives your another kiss.

"my poor baby." he whispers. you hum, needy for every touch. "let's brush your hair."

he does as he says, his fingers move to untangle your hair. he uses the comb after applying some oil you like, and you feel good enough to turn around when he finishes. he leaves the comb on your nightstand, his arms holding you immediately. you bury your face to his neck, the mixed smell of your shampoo and his cologne fill your senses.

"do you wanna go to bed?" he asks. "or maybe the couch?"

"the bed please." you say. he is quick to lift the covers to help you lay in bed. you can cry when you feel soft mattress under your tired body, a sound leaves your lips when you try to get comfortable.

"are you hungry, sweetheart?" sirius asks.

you shake your head. "i don't feel like eating, siri."

sirius hums, he knows he shouldn't force you. he plans a full breakfast for the morning quickly in his mind. "what about some tea, baby? the one you like that smells like berries?"

you think this option for a second, but even though the thought of a hot cup of tea sounds perfect, you don't feel good enough to sit and drink something. you extend a hand to him, he sits next to you on bed, careful eyes watching your every expression.

"maybe later." you say, a smile forming on your lips to convince him you're okay. "won't you come closer?"

sirius places himself gently in bed, right next to you. he is holding you instantly and you wrap yourself around him. his one hand starts rub your shoulder blades, and the other one goes to your hair. he kisses your head, and once more until he loses a breath.

there are voices in your head, they've been there the entire day. you were begging for some silence at some point when you called sirius but controlling your mind is not so easy. you just bury yourself closer to him like you're hiding from the world and he keeps you there. a slow teardrop falls on his neck from your eyes, your lips form a soft pout.

then the voices stop.

because now there's him talking and only him. his beautiful voice reaches your ears and you calm down easily. "it's okay." he says, his fingers are kind in your hair. "my baby's just tired, but you'll feel better. we'll stay in bed until you feel like yourself again, okay?"

you nod automatically, your lips pressed on his neck but not quite kissing. he kisses you instead, covers your forehead with fond brushes of his lips. "let's try to get some sleep, sweetheart." his voice is low. "close your eyes, pretty girl."

"sirius?"

"hmm?"

"thank you." you whisper before breathing him in and closing your eyes for sleep.

"you are so lovely, do you know that?" he blinks, tightens his arms around you. "no need for that, i'm just trying to take care of my girl."

[weministertomonsters]

A Shift In Character- 3

"No hospitals," your husband croaks as you stumble out of your apartment elevator.

"You've said that several times already, Nathan," you gasp, struggling under his weight as he leans against you.

"No hospitals," he mumbles. "M'fine."

"No, you're not!" You shoot back as you fumble with the key to your apartment.

Your nosy neighbor sticks her head out of her door and gasps when she sees the state of the two of you.

"Bar fight," you mutter and push your door open.

You get Nathan on the couch and run to get the first aid kit so you can access the damage. You wrestle his shirt off and he lies there limply, staring at you with foggy eyes. He has a few bruises and scratches, but nothing serious. You sigh in relief when you realize the bite wound isn't too bad either. It just bled a lot.

"What if it gets infected?" You blow out a breath and get to work disinfecting the wound.

"I'll be fine," he winces. "Are you okay? What happened back there?"

You avoid his gaze. "You need to rest. You need to shower too, but lie down for a while, okay?"

He hums, his eyes fluttering shut. "Don't leave me," he murmurs.

You push his hair back from his forehead, going hot and cold. What the heck are you going to say, that you had terrifying but hot sex with a stranger? Your relationship wasn't open to other people, so what you've done is cheating.

So stupid. You see he's asleep, so you get up and stumble into the bathroom.

How had things gone so far? Well, Mystery Man used your weakness against you. But you should have also made more of an effort to say no. Shivering, you step into the shower and rinse dried cum and blood from your body. Every part of you feels thoroughly satisfied, despite your guilt. You're just beginning to soap your body when you feel a presence behind you. You almost slip as you turn, but your husband catches you with an arm around your waist.

He looks far more alert now. His clothes are discarded on the floor outside the shower. Pinkish water runs down his chest as the blood washes away. He blinks at you.

"You know what? I think you liked it."

"W-what?" You squeak.

"You heard me. You've been acting weird ever since I got back. Is it because of him?"

"Can we talk about this later?" You scratch your neck, and he catches your hand and leans in.

"He bit you as well?"

"Yes..."

Your husband says your name in that exasperated tone he uses when he thinks you've made a stupid decision, and even though you have no right to be angry, you feel the heat of it pulsing through you.

"Okay, yeah! I did enjoy it! It was more consensual than he made it look when you arrived. Are you happy now?"

He laughs sharply. "Are you admitting to cheating on me?"

Your anger dissipates and your shoulders hunch. Suddenly you're very aware that you're both naked. Your eyes sting, and not from the soap.

"I'm sorry," you mumble. "I just wanted to feel something. You've always been busy..."

Your husband looks at you. Really looks at you.

"Why are you covering yourself?" He asks, his voice getting a little softer.

You are. You're almost cowering with your arms crossed over your midsection like you want to curl up into a ball. You look at him and finally admit the truth.

"I feel like I'm not good enough. Like I'm not desirable to you any longer."

"That's not true," he says.

"Then why won't you sleep with me?" You sniffle. "It makes me feel so small and hateful and ugly. You always say you're busy with work, and then too tired after work..."

"God, I didn't realize. I've been so wrapped up." He takes both of your wrists and pulls them away from your body, pulling you into a hug. "We're going to fix this," he says firmly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even looked his way," you murmur. "I deserve whatever punishment you want to give me."

Your husband is silent for a long moment, and then his arms tighten around you.

"Tomorrow I'm going to find that guy and fuck him up," he growls. "For touching my wife."

"But I'm the one who let him touch me," you protest.

"He should have known better because you're mine," your husband replies. "You've got a damn ring on."

You grimace and feel like an even bigger fool.

"I'll deal with you too, don't think I'm letting it slide," he whispers against the top of your head and you simply nod.

You eventually part in order to get clean.

"Something isn't normal about him," you say as you soap yourself up.

"This would be the part where I laugh and don't believe you, but I saw his face when we were fighting," your husband says.

"You did?" You gesture for him to turn around so you can get his back.

"Humans don't have eyes or teeth like that."

"Fuck," you groan. "What if I've been infected?"

"You and me both," He replies, turning back to you. "Check my neck. Is it still bleeding?"

You lean closer. "No... It looks like it healed over."

You exchange looks. It's beginning to dawn on you that you've epically fucked up and dragged your husband into it. Your apologies are plentiful, but he doesn't want to hear them.

"I need time to think," he says as you both settle into bed. "I'm going to buy a gun tomorrow."

"Babe..."

"What? If he's really some freak, I'll need all the help I can get," he replies with a yawn. "I'm going to kill him, that's what."

You clamp your mouth shut, surprised at the protests that want to rise. You're not sure what part of this unsettles you. That your husband, who's always been a gentle person, wants to buy a gun and possibly kill someone. Or that Mystery Man might not be human, or that you don't want either of them to get hurt.

Your husband is out cold within minutes, but it takes you longer to fall asleep. You have nightmarish dreams of fighting and snapping wolf teeth and both men slippery with blood as they wrestle on a forest floor.

A heavy weight thumping against your body wakes you up. You forgot to close the blinds before you went to bed, and the bright morning light is pouring in, piercing your eyes. Your husband's arm is wrapped around you, one of his legs thrown over both of yours, holding you down. That's what woke you up. Sweat glistens on his forehead and he mumbles in his sleep.

"Nathan?" You nudge his shoulder.

One of his eyes slowly cracks open, and his pupil is huge.

"What's wrong?" You ask, leaning over him.

"Bad dreams," he rolls over with a groan, releasing you. "I feel like shit."

"Are you okay?"

"Why do you ask?" He opens both eyes now, squinting painfully at you.

He looks like he's high.

"You're soaked with sweat," you tell him.

The thin shirt he's wearing clings to his body. He frowns and sits up. The bedsheets are damp as well. Ywrinklenke your nose.

"Up, I'm changing the sheets."

He rolls off the bed and plops on the floor, rubbing his face and mumbling to himself. You get out of bed yourself and hiss sharply at the ache between your legs. His head jerks up and he twists around to look at you, narrowing his eyes. You could almost cry of embarrassment as you scamper out of the bedroom, wincing. Another man has you walking weird.

You get fresh sheets from the closet and hesitantly walk back in. He is still sitting on the floor, his head hung low. Silently you begin to tug the sheets off the bed. He hops up to his feet and pads up to you. Without much warning, he tugs the sheets out of your hands drops them on a nearby chair, and kisses you.

He's burning up, his feverish skin hot against yours as he pulls you closer. You try to push him away.

"You're sick, Nathan. Your temperature is sky high."

He ignores you. "I want you," he says.

"What? Now? You're joking. You need to lie down," you tell him. "And I'll get you a cold cloth-"

A muscle in his jaw tightens and he practically throws you on the bed. You squeak as you fall face down.

"Wasn't asking," he mumbles, crawling on top of you and kissing your shoulder.

"Nathan, I'm serious," you begin to say, but he straddles your hips, pinning you to the bed.

His hand scoops your hair away from your neck, his fingers tracing the slight, bumpy scar where you were bitten.

"Nathan? What are you doing?"

He doesn't respond, and that's pretty strange. He hauls you up onto your hands and knees roughly, repeating the motion twice until you obediently hold the position. You look over your shoulder and gasp. His brown eyes are so dark they're almost black. You've seen his eyes get chocolatey and warm in direct sunlight, but this charcoal color doesn't even look natural.

"I can smell him on you, you know," he finally says. "I hate it."

"I took a shower. Don't be ridiculous-" You freeze when he grabs your underwear and pulls it down, smacking your ass.

"Nathan? You're scaring me," you whisper.

His response is a low appreciative groan as he rubs the spot he just smacked. You look back again, only to see he's pulled his cock out of his sweatpants, his stomach flexing as he fists it.

"Are you sure? This is the last thing you should be doing." You argue weakly.

He drapes his body against yours and whispers in your ear,

"I love you so much, but I need you to stop talking."

"What? You're not making any sense!" You protest, and those are the last words you manage to speak as he shoves your face into the pillow.

You feel the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. Despite yourself, you're pretty wet. He's never been like this before. He thrusts into you as far as he can go, and you moan in pain. You're still very sore from yesterday and he's not being gentle.

"You have to smell like me because you're mine. Don't you get it?" He pants as he thrusts into you. "You can't just give your pussy to anyone. You're mine!"

"Yes," you gasp. "I'm yours."

He grunts and squeezes your hips, digging his fingers in hard enough for it to hurt. You let him, figuring this might be his way of punishing you. He uses you like a toy, chasing his pleasure alone. It's been so long since you had sex together that you regret the fact that it's like this, but you're in no position to complain. He comes with a growled curse and flops bonelessly on the bed beside you, his chest heaving.

You let yourself flatten against the bed and blow out a breath. You're turned on and confused.

"I think something's wrong with me," he says. "I feel strange."

"Should I take you to the hospital?"

"No. Just.. Lie with me."

You have to clean yourself up and turn on the air conditioning before you climb back into bed with him. He pulls you closer and sniffs.

"Now you smell like me. That's much better. His scent was making me go crazy."

"Stop being weird," you demand, trying not to feel anxious. "You're having a fever or something. Sleep."

Miraculously, he does fall asleep.

You don't remember dozing off as well, but you wake up to the thud of the refrigerator closing. You're alone in the bed. You stretch and your body zings with soreness. Your breasts feel tender too. You check your calendar and it all lines up. You're going to be ovulating soon. You pad into the kitchen and pause.

It's a mess, the way it always gets when your husband does anything in the kitchen. Nathan turns from the stove with a stack of pancakes.

"Morning."

"Hi. Are you feeling better?"

"Sure am. Sit down, I made breakfast."

You sit cautiously and stare at him. He sets the pancakes down in front of you and sits himself. He's eating scrambled eggs and leftover minced meat that looks like he barely gave it time to get a decent sear.

"Uh..."

"This is all I was craving. Figured I deserve it," he says, scooping it into his mouth. "I've got to go out to the office, but I'll be home early. I thought we could go on a date."

You nod silently and eat the pancakes. Has he forgotten about the gun? You're not going to bring it up just in case. He showers and leaves for work with so much energy that you can't help but worry. He kisses you hard on the mouth and promises to be back as soon as he can. You let him go, nursing that feeling of unease deep inside of you.

You tidy up the kitchen and lock up. You get a sense of deja vu as you step back into the club.

"We're pretty much closed till seven in the evening," the bartender calls over.

He's washing and drying shot glasses. One person is sitting at the bar, devouring a hamburger. It's not your guy, even though he has a similar build.

"Sorry. I'm here to ask about someone," you say.

Before you can begin to describe him, the man eating the hamburger says,

"Green eyes, hasn't-shaved-in-days and slutty open shirts?"

"Yes. Do you know him?" You frown at the man.

He licks grease from his fingers and chortles.

"Helen of Troy, that's what you are."

"Pardon?"

He waves a dismissive hand and then holds it out to you. "Where are my manners? I'm Ulysses."

You don't take his hand. You glance at the bartender, who shrugs.

"Well, I really need to talk to him. Is there any way I can reach him?"

"A careful bitch. I like that," he says.

You raise an eyebrow, refusing to take the bait.

"Can I have his number, maybe?"

"Aha!" The bartender cuts in. "So you're the lady he was talking about! He left a note for you."

You whip your head around. The bartender fumbles in his pockets and then pulls a piece of tissue out. The ink has bled in places, making it hard to read, but you manage to make it out.

Contact me when you have real questions that need answers.

Underneath, there's a phone number. You thank the bartender and leave Ulysses at the bar as you stride outside. You waste no time dialing the number. It goes straight to voicemail, so you try again.

"I thought I told you not to call," his deep voice says.

"Well, I've got questions. What are you?"

You get a scoff in response.

"You're howling at the empty sky, darling. Wait for the real trouble."

"Don't speak in riddles," you protest. "Something is happening and I-"

The bastard hangs up on you. You stare at your phone screen in disbelief and curse.

"You're in a fix," Ulysses says, joining you on the curb.

You take a step away from him, frowning. He's dressed like a homeless person, or a junkie, or both. There's a sly shiftiness to him that you don't like.

"Please leave me alone."

"Ah, you want to be alone?" He crows. "Not for long! You've got yourself a piece of the wild, that's what. Bastard city people, always wiping your noses. Ha!"

You hail a taxi and leave him there. You have no idea what Ulysses has to do with Mystery Man, but the situation is only getting murkier and more confusing. Your phone rings. It's Nathan.

"I, um, fucked up."

"What happened?" You ask.

"Got into a fight and broke a tooth. There's, uh, blood everywhere." He sounds lost and confused.

"Jesus. Send me your location. I'll come and pick you up. Don't move, okay?"

"Yeah, um... I think I'm just going to sit down..."

The line disconnects.

Read the next part here -> Part 4

[heyitsme1040]

Suds and Scars [s.h]

summary : Steve’s scars from the demobats were still healing. He couldn’t move well without them hurting, so you help him take a bath.   

pairings : Steve Harrington x Reader

warnings : None really, and I think I (unintentionally) made this gender neutral actually. (If I missed anything please let me know!)

word count : 865

AO3 (x)

a/n : The second bonus Comfortember post is here! This one is based on the alternate prompt of 'baths.’ Steve deserves to be looked after and cared for the way he does for everyone else. 

You filled the tub with warm water, waiting for your boyfriend to walk into the bathroom. The sound of rushing water covered the sound of his footsteps, so when arms suddenly wrapped around you the yelp that escaped you couldn’t be helped. You looked up, seeing Steve’s tired face above you. 

“How’re you feeling babe?” You placed your hand atop his. 

“Fine,” Steve automatically responds. 

“Steve,” you emphasize, “are you feeling okay? The doctors said you’d be dealing with pain for a few more months as your scars heal.”

Steve hung his head, and you knew he was cursing how well you read him. “Alright, it’s not great. They hurt pretty bad right now, and it’s another hour until I can take more painkillers.”

Your heart tugged at the tiredness in his voice. You knew his fresh scars were tender and anytime he moved he felt the skin around them tug. You turned the water off and stood up to face him. You cupped his cheek, smiling when he leaned into the touch. 

“The bath should help, I got it warmed up to help you relax. Do you want to wait a minute or go ahead?” You stroke his hair out of his eyes. 

Steve closes his eyes, “I think the sooner I get in the better. Would you mind helping me still?”

“It’s no problem babe. Are you okay with me taking your shirt off?”

Steve nodded as you slipped your hands under the hem of his shirt. You carefully slid the fabric upward, making sure not to run your hands along his skin. The light caught on the fresh pink skin of his torso, shining slightly. You held each sleeve open as he slid his arm through, ducking some so you could pull the fabric over his head. Once his shirt was off, Steve turned to the mirror to look. You watched as his eyes trailed between the scars littering his torso. Your stomach tugged at the way he was looking at himself. You slid your hand into his, squeezing his in reassurance. You gently tugged his hand toward you and Steve turned at the feeling. 

“They’re healing nicely,” you inform him. 

Steve dejectedly nods. You frown at his gloomy mood, knowing he’s mentally beating himself up. He uses his free hand to undo his belt, shimmying his pants down before kicking them free of his feet. He takes a step toward the tub and you follow him. You let go of his hand to keep them hovered near his back as he steps into the bath. As he slowly sinks into the water, you watch his brows furrow. 

“Too hot?” You worry. 

“No, it’s great. The scars just tug when I lower myself into the water,” Steve explains. 

He slowly leans back in the water, resting against the tub. You wait for him to let you know he’s okay to wash. When he finally nods to indicate the pain is ebbing away, you grab a washcloth and his soap. You get the cloth sudsy before gently washing him. You touch as lightly as possible, carefully wiping away the residual balm from his scars. Carefully rinsing away to soap, you guide him to lean forward. You repeat the process on his back, feeling his muscles relax under your touch. Once you finish rinsing away all the soap, you tilt his head back. You wet his hair before taking care in washing it for him, remembering when he first asked you to help him wash it. You took care to keep the water from running into his eyes, watching as the water made his hair darker. 

It wasn’t long until you turned away from him, handing the cloth over. As he finished washing himself, you grabbed a towel from under the sink. At the sound of the water beginning to drain, you offered the towel to him behind you. He gently pulled the fluffy fabric from your hold. 

“I’m covered,” he declared a few moments later.

You turned around, offering him your arm. He held onto it as he stepped out of the tub. He led the way into his room as you watched the drops of water fall from his hair onto his back. You laid on his bed as he pulled on a pair of sleep pants. Soon, he was lying next to you cuddled into your side. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he mumbled against your skin. 

You run your fingers through his damp hair, “You’re welcome. I like taking care of you.”

“That’s nice,” Steve sighs against you. 

“You can sleep for now if you want. I can wake you up when it’s time for your medicine, okay?”

You felt Steve tiredly nod against you, movements sluggish. It was only a minute later that his quiet snores reached your ears. You watched over him as he slept, his breaths puffing past his lips. You hated how long he went without someone caring for him, but promised him you’d always be there for him. It took a long time for him to accept the help you happily offered, but now that he did you were so proud of him. 

Author’s Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.

©heyitsme1040 If you find this post on any platform under a username different than heyitsme1040 it is not their work.