#at this point it's been nearly two months since i first emailed them

[haniawritesthings]

ah the irony of it being near impossible to get a hold of the accessibility office

[unpredictable-probabilities]

A Dip Into Comfort

Summary:

After a long week at work, Hob finds that Dream has prepared a surprise for him.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2,551

Square/Prompt: A2 - Bathroom Sex | @dreamlingbingo

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Bathing/Washing, Bathroom Sex, Bath Sex, Bathtub Sex, Bubble Bath, Bathtubs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Comfort, Fluff, Sweet, Sweet/Hot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Domestic Fluff, Domestic, Domestic Boyfriends, Pampering

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56909119

---

Hob all but stumbled out of the bus as soon as the doors opened. It was finally Friday, and he could go spend the night eating pastries on his couch while watching bake-offs, or immediately pass out and sleep for 40 hours. He hadn't decided yet.

The past week had been a series of late nights preparing exams and early mornings of faculty meetings that really should have just been emails. It was that time of the semester again where it felt like the entire university was busy, and at this point Hob was pretty sure he was looking forward to summer vacation even more than his students were.

He made the short walk from the bus stop to his flat, trudging up the front steps and yawning as he unlocked the door.

He was planning on collapsing on the couch, but he stepped into his living room and saw that someone was already in it, carefully arranging a plate of croissants and chocolate éclairs on the coffee table.

“Dream?” Hob was suddenly wide awake. “It's not date night, right? Oh my god, did I forget—”

“Hob.” Dream's voice was soothing and his expression soft as he gracefully stood up and walked towards Hob. “You did not forget anything.” He cupped Hob’s face in his hand and kissed him, a gentle press of their lips. “Welcome home, beloved,” a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

He helped Hob out of his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack by the wall, then took Hob’s bag from him and placed it on the couch.

Hob followed, still unsure of what was happening but certainly not complaining. “Is there a special occasion somehow? A holiday in The Dreaming?” They had been dating for a few months already, but Hob had never come home to Dream waiting in his flat before.

“No,” Dream replied as he sat back down. “I merely saw your daydreams while you were on the bus. They were quite vivid.”

“So you came here and waited for me?” Hob felt warmth bloom in his chest at that. He took a seat next to Dream and looked at the food on the coffee table. “And where did these come from? Can we eat dreamstuff?”

Dream gave him a smile of fond amusement. “These are not from the Dreaming. I ordered them from your preferred coffee shop, using the phone you gave me.”

Hob’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d know how to do that.”

“I did not. But it was easy enough to reach into certain dreams and learn how. Carl brought the food again, the young man from last week. He handed me a coupon and said that our next order from them would have a 10% discount.”

Hob saw the coupon on the coffee table and looked back at Dream. “Did you see his daydreams while you two were talking?”

Carl was not the most subtle of delivery men. Hob was the one who usually received food orders whenever there was a new dessert he wanted Dream to try, but there was a time last month when he had been washing the dishes when their order arrived, and Dream had opened the door before Hob could say anything. Carl had looked like he nearly swallowed his own tongue, his cheekbones pink as he tried to tell Dream how much the food was. Hob had rushed over and paid before the poor lad fainted on their doorstep.

Dream tilted his head just slightly. “How would you know whether he had daydreams?”

“Love, I don’t need mind-reading powers to notice that he’s always the one delivering our food now ever since he saw you for the first time,” Hob playfully pointed out.

“Regardless, this night is about you.” Dream was looking at him so intently that Hob felt his face warm. “Would you still like to eat first? Or sleep already? I can make you sleep whenever you wish and ensure you only have the sweetest dreams. Or no dreams at all, if you would prefer that.”

Hob reached for the back of Dream’s neck and pulled him in for another kiss, lingering longer this time. “I had no idea you were so sweet,” he teased after pulling away.

“I learned from the best,” Dream said easily, his eyes twinkling, and Hob didn’t bother to hide his grin. “Which one shall it be? A dreamless sleep?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’d ever want to be Dream-less.”

Dream rolled his eyes—a gesture he had learned from Hob—but Hob could see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Dream always looked adorable when he was pretending to be exasperated at Hob’s terrible puns, which was why Hob continued to make them.

“And I might like a hot shower first, actually. It’s been cold all day.”

Dream nodded once. “Then let me draw you a bath.” He stood up and took Hob’s hand, gently leading him to the bathroom.  

“A bath?” Hob blinked.

As soon as Dream opened the door, Hob heard the tap running and noticed a pleasant scent in the air.

The bathtub was filling up with soapy water, suds covering the entire surface, along with…

“Are these rose petals?” Hob said in surprise, turning to Dream.

“A lot of humans seem to think that a warm bath with scented oils and flowers is agreeable after a particularly tiring day,” Dream said hesitantly. “Do you object to this?” He began to raise his hand as if preparing to vanish the contents of the tub.

“No, no,” Hob said hurriedly, squeezing Dream's hand. “I was just surprised.” He glanced at the soapy pink water in the tub before turning back to Dream. “Join me?”

Dream furrowed his eyebrows. “I have no need for bathing.”

Hob smiled at him fondly. “I know. But I still wanna spend time with you.”

Dream looked surprised for a moment before his features softened. “Then allow me to help.” He leaned closer and kissed Hob, his hands reaching up to slowly undo the buttons on Hob’s shirt.

Hob swayed into the touch, unbuttoning Dream’s coat in turn. He felt Dream’s tongue sweep on his bottom lip, and in the next heartbeat they were both in the tub, fully soaked to the chest and without a stitch of clothing on either of them.

Once Hob’s senses have settled down from the sudden teleportation, he realised that he was leaning back against Dream. Their bare skins pressed together, Dream’s chest a cool contrast to the warm fragrant water.

The tap had turned off, so Hob heard clearly when Dream leaned forward and spoke in his ear.

“Will you allow me to take care of you, beloved?” His hands were already lathering shampoo in Hob's hair.

“You're spoiling me,” Hob sighed and melted against Dream, his eyes fluttering close at the feeling of Dream’s fingers on his scalp.

“As you deserve to be,” Dream murmured, and pulled away just enough to glide his hands down to the nape of Hob's neck and his shoulder blades, firmly kneading the tension out of the stiff muscles.

Hob let out a groan that he would have been embarrassed of, except Dream had never made him feel embarrassed of anything.

Dream's hands slowly went down Hob’s back, coaxing the soreness out inch by inch until Hob felt like he might fall asleep right there. And he must have for a minute or so, because when he woke up, Dream had the showerhead in his hand, holding it so that the hose didn't get in the way, and was beginning to rinse off Hob's hair, gently tipping his head back so no shampoo got in his eyes.

“Is this a good time to admit that I've fantasized about this in 1689?” Hob asked as Dream’s fingers were carding through his hair.

“It is unnecessary. I was aware of your daydreams then.”

“Oh? A shame you didn't act on it,” Hob said playfully.

“You were in a vulnerable position. I did not wish to take advantage.”

Hob’s eyebrows lifted in surprise and he turned around to face Dream as much as the bathtub would allow. “Wait, really?” 

The showerhead vanished from Dream’s hand and returned to its place on the hook on the wall. 

“You had lived on the streets a long time without a single kind touch. And I…” Dream’s eyes cast downward. “I was different. At the time. Greedy. If you had allowed me to touch your hair in the bath, I would have taken more. More than what you might have allowed had you not been in a desperate situation.” 

Hob felt dumbstruck; he had already been so grateful for the food and lodging that Dream provided for him that night, as well as the handful of coins. And now, knowing that Dream cared about him that much even back then… Hob just stared at him for several moments, unable to say anything.

Dream met his eyes again hesitantly, his shoulders tensing as if he was preparing for Hob to yell at him or kick him out.

“Love,” Hob rubbed Dream’s arm soothingly. “That's… Thank you, for that. I knew you were kind to me then, but I had no idea just how much.”

“It was the least I could have done. After everything that you had been through.”

Hob smiled. “You really are very sweet, you know? Also,” he pointed at Dream's chest accusingly. “Are you telling me we could have shagged over 3 centuries ago and you didn't say anything?”

Dream blinked at him in surprise. “I had just explained—”

“Well what about in 1789? I knew I wasn't imagining the look you gave me. You're saying I wanked myself to sleep that night when I could have had the real thing?” Hob barreled on. He had the right to, after hundreds of years of holding back.

“I was concerned for your safety.” Dream was evidently trying to suppress a smile and only partially succeeding. “Have I not made up for those times with our plentiful hours in bed as of late?” 

“I haven't decided yet. Might need to add in more hours to be sure.” Hob placed his hand flat on Dream's chest, feeling the heart under his palm that beat only for him.

Dream pulled him closer and planted a soft kiss on his neck. “I was under the impression that you wished to sleep already,” he whispered against Hob’s skin.

Hob felt himself flush, heat pooling low in his belly, and he shuffled around to face Dream properly. “There's lots of time to sleep. Later. I've got other things on my mind right now.”

“Oh I am quite aware of the things in your mind right now, Hob Gadling,” Dream rumbled quietly, his lips finding their way to the shell of Hob's ear.

Hob let out a shuddering exhale and turned his head to catch Dream’s lips in his.

Dream pulled Hob forward to sit on his lap, water sloshing out of the tub from the force. Hob grinded down on Dream's growing hardness under him, rubbing his own against Dream’s torso.

Dream moaned against his mouth, only making Hob’s blood run quicker south. “This is really what you want?” Dream asked breathlessly, his pupils blown wide. “You are not too tired for such activities?”

“I'd stay awake for a week if it means we get to do this now,” Hob’s voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. He gripped Dream’s hair and surged forward to kiss him again, his hips twitching forward when he felt Dream’s tongue sliding against his own.

Hob felt firm hands massage the flesh of his arse, and then a slender finger slick with soap teasing his rim. A shudder ran up his spine, and he moved encouragingly against Dream’s finger. His hands held either side of Dream’s face, keeping their mouths pressed together as if he needed it to breathe.

Dream finally took mercy on him and slipped his finger in, twisting him open and adding a second one.

“Fuck,” Hob gasped, leaning his forehead against Dream’s. “Yes. Right there.” He distantly wondered if he could come like this, riding Dream’s fingers while his cock rubbed up and down Dream’s body. But he wanted more, wanted what he knew Dream was more than willing to give.

“And you shall have it.” Dream added a third finger, spreading Hob open and brushing across his prostate.

“Dream,” Hob nearly sobbed, digging his blunt fingernails into Dream’s shoulders. “I'm ready. Please…”

Dream withdrew his fingers, and Hob’s whine at the sudden emptiness turned into a wail as Dream’s cock filled him.

Dream held Hob’s hips in place; his eyes had fluttered shut and shallow breaths were coming out of his parted lips, his cheeks flushed a ruddy red.

Hob’s chest was heaving, his cock impossibly hard, but he thought he could spend an eternity just staring at Dream like this, frozen in a moment's pleasure.

Then Dream started to move and all thoughts fled from Hob’s mind.

“Dream…” Hob’s voice wavered as he felt Dream slowly slide in and out of him.

Dream’s eyes had turned into galaxies. “My name sounds so sweet on your lips.”

 “Ah—!” Hob’s eyes rolled back in his head as Dream filled him even deeper at the next thrust. His thighs were trembling so much that he had no idea if he was still helping raise his own hips.

Hob leaned in and kissed Dream, tasting the sounds of their moans. He would have chased the heat of Dream’s lips and tongue for much longer, but Dream began thrusting at a faster pace and their kisses turned messier until Hob didn't have control over his own mouth anymore; gasps and pleas and curses spilling out as he threw his head back.

Dream was panting now, his eyes squeezed shut as he relentlessly hit Hob’s prostate with each movement of his hips.

“Hob.”

His name sounded positively sinful from Dream’s lips, and it was all it took for Hob to be hurled over the edge, stars exploding behind his eyelids as a scream tore from his throat.

He rode Dream’s cock through his orgasm, gasping softly when Dream came and spilled inside him with a low drawn-out moan.

Hob collapsed against Dream, boneless and half-conscious, only faintly registering that the water was draining and the tub was filling up again with a fresh batch, rinsing them of soap and spend before draining again.

“Shall we move to your bed, my love?” Dream asked breathlessly, his hand rubbing soothing circles over Hob's back.

Hob hummed in agreement and held Dream tightly.

In the next heartbeat, they were on his bed, dry and warm under the blankets.

Hob wrapped an arm around Dream and snuggled in the crook of his neck. “Thank you. For tonight. I love you.” He raised his head slightly and planted a kiss on Dream's jawline under his ear.

“And I love you, Hob Gadling,” Dream said softly, holding him close. “Now rest. There are pastries waiting for us in the morning.”

Another hum that was more a sigh of contentment slipped out of Hob, and he felt himself smile at the certainty that Dream would be waiting for him in the morning.

---

(Dreamling Bingo Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

sometimes i think about the fact that thru u (and rather indirectly through myself) i’m technically only one degree of separation from the actual real neil gaiman. my eleventh grade english teacher would be fangirling so bad right now. but he hasn’t answered any of my emails in the past two months so i fear the 7th graders may have eaten him.

anyway. that’s not at all the point of this.

the point is. my point. is. i read good omens five days before you somehow got stuck in this fandom. i have also never watched the tv show. who the heck is this muriel. why is there ice cream. what is going on. where are my four other horsemen off the apocalypse.

anyway. in summary. hello from the direct opposite but parallel half of the fandom. it’s been a doozy trying to keep up with things and maybe maybe maybe i’ll finally cave and watch the show. until then-

“actually, it was bloody beautiful.”

Hello anon maggot! Well, yes, I suppose that is true...? I remember back in the middle of Jan one of my mutuals said they were mutuals-in-law now with Neil. I'm afraid I have no bloody clue about how mutual culture actually works on tumblr.

I've nearly been two months on here now, but my, uh, vaguely downwards saunter on this hellsite doesn't seem to be the norm. Add to that the fact that during my first summaries of Good Omens, during the first week of Jan, I was questioning whether Neil was fictional or not.

Yeaaaaaah my life's always kinda strange I've learned to roll with it by now. I hope your (former?) English teacher has not, in fact, been eaten by 7th graders. Unless he was a tool, in which case, I hope they feasted on his mortal frame. I'm hoping that since he's a Neil fan he was not a tool and has not been consumed for sustenance by 12 year olds.

The ice cream is a brief scene in the first season, it's an easter egg for the plotline of Sadie and Dottie's whirlwind romance in season 2. I don't think that was included in the book, probably not, because they're actually a nod to characters in one of Terry Pratchett's novels I believe. Their romance is honestly the cutest, to the point that Neil resorted to using ridiculous plot threads of them to ward off people asking for S3 spoilers. But their canon romance, I mean, it's just insane. Muriel is an angel in season 2, they officiate the Sadie-Dottie union. I think they're a scrivener.

Absolutely bloody watch the show it's amazing. Really. It broke me and healed me in the best way and I need to rewatch the first season without the chaos of being newly kidnapped.

Hello to your side of the fandom from the dubiously elected official good omens mascot!! I'm terrified of reading the book because of how every time I see Crowley's name I get emotional, so it's currently sitting by me on my desk till I gain some pretence of stability (it's not possible for show fans to ever have real stability).

[firespirited]

Got screwed by LaPoste again. Flatmate woke me up to pay €11: more than the cost of the item with postage: I'd already paid import taxes, it was tracked so they could have emailed me for the €3 custom fee, it had a CN22 that said both these things but it was folded inwards so their shoddy machines didn't scan it.

A few years ago this would have ruined half my day. But I've been doing whatever therapy technique it is to take your strong emotions and break it down into every single component and examine every facet until it's something you understand, can accept and form solutions

Here's a little peek at what comes out after lots of uncomfortable moments of digging down:

ANGER because this is ethically wrong and entirely avoidable:

If they'd bothered to open the CN22, i wouldn't have to pay. As is I was presented with losing the item and reorder (with wait time) or hand over the money. Their corner cutting on personnel led to this.

Customs fee was actually €3. The extra €8 is a handling fee for laposte. If your parcel has tracking, customs contact you by email and you pay online. I did it last week for the Japan parcel. I was not sent an email for this.

None of that €8 handling fee goes to the postie who has an extra five minutes to make up for. I wouldn't mind if it was a tip, we cash-tip regularly for difficult deliveries.

There's no receipt and most people pay in cash so an unscrupulous postie could ask for whatever whenever. Half of my spam is claims from various delivery companies claiming my parcels are held up and need money, they opened a terrible can of worms

Laposte is not great at what they do and have not operated as a public service for a long time now with massive inflation on the cost of sending stuff. A postcard stamp (in country!) will set you back $1.6

RESENTMENT because I was extremely strict about hobby money.

A €11 loss would have meant two yarn or partial reroots to make up for it. Possibly selling one of my personal collection. At least four hours of work.

Every single supply and unexpected expense like parcel loss or extra fees came from the hobby fund which would be in the red if it wasn't a current sales moment. (My first rotary tool was bought with hobby money even though it had non doll purposes for example.)

I knew at the time that it was unhealthy thinking but hadn't found an alternative or ways to mentally unblock.

IMPOTENCE:

recourse is nearly impossible the post office system is designed that way: no receipt and they can claim bad formatting of the CN22 masked the barcode. It's always something. They sent my australia parcel to austria, billed me, i opened a case and checked in every month and nothing.

poverty mindset: if you've ever felt the sting of removing an item from the conveyor belt to afford the total, you know that someone else's small change is something big and important and painful. Even once you have some money it doesn't go away: donating to others is easy, being cheated by a system is awful.

Solutions:

As much as possible, I don't use LaPoste and their extortionate prices for sending to France and the EU. My two posties get regular tips and cash gifts at Christmas but I don't use the post office unless I absolutely have to. Mondialrelay or Point to Point get my money whenever possible. That feels good and makes losses feel less bad.

I treat unexpected expenses like a lost parcel, disgruntled client or new fees as a tip to myself. I put in the work, did everything I could and something out of my control happened. The expense is marked down but cancelled out from my personal kitty. I have been inconvenienced: I'm not going to let it hurt or work it off.

Hobby supplies that are multipurpose are a third category. I was putting glues, chemicals, thread and needles under expenses when I use them for all sorts of repairs.

More importantly: the hobby money spreadsheet became a guideline not a business expenditure book.

Since about 2019 I've also been trying to integrate the idea of the joy of the hobby having its own cost and reward built in:

If i make no money back from a €30 gunky bundle of dolls, there was still €30 worth of enjoyment in fixing them up. The experience of practising even if it comes out all wrong is also valuable. And you often get a tutorial out of it 😁 (see my "mistakes I make so you don't have to" tag)

There was a time before handicap benefits where every cent counted but even then we all managed to make tough choices so we could save small amounts of 'cushion' money - We'd all learned to be so cautious that the cushions went mostly untouched until benefits hit and something unlocked despite still being under the poverty line: the cushion had gone from €30 (100 if we had a good series of months) to €300 emergency funds and no medical expenses were paid out of pocket (as opposed to upfront with a potential refund later) and that made all the difference.

But also a big change was the mindset:

Normal people's unwinding experiences often aren't free even if it's just eating your own snacks at a local bit of grass.

Really throwing out the idea that hobbies should be monetized (that part was hard to unlearn, not just because it was so prevalent but because of shame at not "having a job"- i know now that my full-time job is to keep this body alive and I get maybe 3 hours max to not be about surviving)

Even in poverty you deserve treats because those make priceless memories. Hobby time is valuable because it's what's makes us human not just productivity/survival machines.

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

Anyway I've also been trying to apply this to my rejection sensitive dysphoria, knowing I'm going to lose Lily soon, frustration with how slow core muscle rebuilding is taking, as well as the very real fear of alienating my sister by accident or just clashing needs (NGL I spiralled most of the day when we had the odd confrontation last week).

but I'd rather break down something less personal in public. ^^;

Here's hoping this little thing that would drive me batty from feeling powerless, which now doesn't sting as much helps someone

[laurenairay]

1 - “You know I’m literally obsessed with you.” – JT Compher

821 words

My original post of this got eaten by tumblr so my apologies @xsyntheticsensation​ ! I hope you enjoy this one for our fav ginger grumpy cat! I had a lot of fun making the little extra surprise at the end.

*

“I hate people.”

“Hello to you too,” JT mused, lifting his head to look at you from where he was sitting on the sofa.

You groaned, leaning down to kiss your boyfriend in greeting, smiling softly at the laughter he was trying to hold in. “Sorry, it’s not been the best day.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning.

Where to start!

“First of all, the queue for coffee this morning was ridiculous and I was nearly late for work. Then we had two meetings which could’ve been emails for sure and a third meeting which ran on way too long. And then, the project I’m working on has been scrapped because the Sales guy didn’t communicate properly with the client and now the client wants something completely different, so all that work I’ve put in this week was for nothing!”

“And…” he prompted.

“Internet girls thirsting over you on the Avs social media posts?” you added, smiling wryly.

“Really?” he said, frowning.

“Oh come on, JT, you know how hot you are. And women on the internet agree with me,” you groaned, sinking down into the sofa cushion next to me.

“Um, not to be that guy, but it kind of comes with the territory? And it’s been like this since we started dating 6 months ago – why is it annoying you now?”

If it was any other guy, you’d be rolling your eyes at the ego, but that just wasn’t JT. This wasn’t him being cocky or arrogant, and you both knew that. That doesn’t mean it made things any better though.

“It’s always annoyed me, babe, I’m just extra annoyed about it today. We’ve been official nearly 6 months and I have a key to your apartment now and all these girls think you’re single, which fine, we don’t post our relationship everywhere because bleurgh who needs the drama. Things like this just get to me though, enough that when I went to lunch with some of the girls, they noticed that I wasn’t happy and we started diving into it,” you rambled.

“Oh shit here we go,” he laughed, wincing a little at the thought of your friends’ reactions.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like that we have things that are just us – it makes them special. But the girls were just like woah those are some thirsty random girls and I bet his DMs are full of titty pics and bad flirting,” you groaned, JT’s grimace confirming what you’d said, “And then some of the girls were like, you’re not even on his socials so of course they think he’s single, which is true but really not the point, and-”

“So why don’t we make a stupid insta post then?” he said, interrupting.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“You’re fed up with the flirting and the speculation. I want everyone to know that I’m the luckiest guy alive. This is a win-win situation,” JT said simply.

“Really? You’d want to do that? You hate sappy insta posts,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“I might hate those cheesy posts couples do but I love you. You know I’m literally obsessed with you,” JT shrugged, smiling softly.

You felt your cheeks rush with heat at his sweet words, butterflies filling your stomach. For someone who was usually so reserved with his declarations of feelings, he sure could pick his moments.

“JT Compher you are the biggest simp,” you giggled.

JT’s soft smile turned into a wide grin, making you laugh as he shrugged again.

“Guilty as charged,” he said simply.

“You know we don’t have to, right? I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with just for me. I know all those girls on the internet and in the bars don’t mean anything to you – I trust you,” you said seriously.

It was one thing for him to want to make you feel more secure, but if it came at the price of him feeling uneasy? No way. But he just shook his head, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Baby, I want to show you off to the world. I want everyone to know that you’re mine,” JT said, smiling sweetly, “You’re not the only one who gets jealous and annoyed with all the people who hit on you.”

Well when he put it like that…

“Looks like we’re going public then babe,” you grinned.

JT grinned back at you and pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket, immediately starting to scroll.

“Leave this with me. I have an idea,” he said happily.

On a normal day, you’d be concerned that your usually-grumpy was so enthusiastic about putting together an Instagram post – but for this sweetness you were willing to let the strangeness slide. If he was this excited about putting up a public post to shout out about your relationship to the world (finally) then who were you to dim that sunshine?

[8-8itartistries]

🌸 8-8it Artistries Newspost - (11/15/22) 🌸

Previous Newsposts; 🌸 (10/18) (October Newspost + 2022 Summarization) https://8-8itartistries.tumblr.com/post/698432208545906688/8-8it-artistries-newspost-10182022  🌸 (10/22) (Queue) https://twitter.com/8_8itArtistries/status/1583973054103064576 If you haven’t already, I highly recommend reading the above posts. Below I will be summarizing the work I’ve done and events relevant to my fursuit business that have happened since my last newspost. TWs may be applicable for the post below, they will be in the tags.

Hello! Much has happened since the October update so I’m happy to announce this newspost won’t be nearly as long as the first one. Hopefully that’ll keep consistent throughout the coming months. Newspoints will be seperated with cherry blossom emojis. 🌸  As of October 22nd, I have put together my commission queues and have a sum of around 22 commissions to complete in the coming year. I will soon be organizing a Trello to keep all of these commissions and their respective information organized. I have a huge to-do list regarding 8-8itArtistries and I’m very excited to complete these tasks. My previous setbacks are still effecting me, and I’m still fairly monetarily short when it comes to supplies I need for fursuits. I also have little to no space to work in my parent’s house where I currently reside. I plan to go on SSD and move out to try and remedy this as it’s significantly effecting my productivity.  I love making fursuits and I love delivering them to my commissioners; I’ve had a wonderful experience with this business so far and i wouldn’t want to stop it prematurely or let people down. Please let me know if you have questions or concerns about your commission as I want you (and me) to be 100% satisfied with the product that comes to your door.  Many of my commissions have been placed over a year ago at this point, and I am very apologetic about the delay. I’m doing the best I can to catch up with the excess of work I signed myself up for.  🌸 My getfursu.it page has been updated in correspondence to 2022, as all of my information on there was as of 2021.  🌸  Digital art commissions will be raised by around 50% once again to accomodate more of a living wage and support of my fursuit commissions.  🌸 I’ve been struggling quite a lot mentally, and attempted suicide on the night of November 2nd. I’ve been taking it easy since and just today started working again. 🌸 And probably the most exciting update by far, I have updated and made a uniform paw pattern! This will help me exponentially in completing commissions, and I am quite excited! I will be heading to the library to print out my pieces tomorrow. 

Above is the digital mockup of my new paw pattern, to be used as an example of what my new paws will look like. They will not be dissimilar to my previous pattern (example below) however they will be more clean and orderly, and have been adjusted to fit most measurements.  I believe the improvement between the two can be seen, as the first pattern/paws i made are highly experimental.

My goal with my fursuits is to replicate my furry art style, if not more detailed, currently they resemble a mix between toony and kemono styles, but once i accomplish matching my fursuit style to my art style they will be more kemono. The above paw belongs to my first commissioner Mothstick and is a part of the Dreamcatcher mini-partial. I have yet to finish the gift pawset and ship them out, so that’s on my immediate to-do list for sewing, along with my non-fursuit tactile commissions.  🌸 (Edit 8:09 PM 11/15/22) Several changes have been made to my carrd, as well as my twitter. Socials associated with 8-8itArtistries specifically have been edited to match thematically, as such;

“Contact” button on my carrd has been edited to start an email correspondence instead of a google form, as I completely forgot that my forms existed. More edits to my carrd are due in the near future. I believe this is all I have to say for now. Again if you have any questions or comments, my ask box is open. Thank you so much! 💙🌸

[beardedmrbean]

Aug. 14 (UPI) -- Columbia University president Minouche Shafik resigned from her position Wednesday, weeks before the start of the school year and months after Gaza war protests engulfed the New York City campus.

"I write with sadness to tell you that I am stepping down as president of Columbia University effective Aug. 14, 2024," Shafik wrote in her resignation letter, just over a year after she became the university's first woman president.

"Over the summer, I have been able to reflect and have decided that my moving on at this point would best enable Columbia to traverse the challenges ahead," the Egyptian-born economist added. "I am making this announcement now so that new leadership can be in place before the new term begins."

Shafik is the third Ivy League president to resign her post over campus unrest and pro-Palestinian encampments that disrupted finals and canceled Columbia's main commencement. University of Pennsylvania's Liz Magill and Harvard University's Claudine Gay both stepped down over similar criticism.

Gay resigned as Harvard's president in January amid accusations of plagiarism and backlash over her response to anti-Semitism on campus.

Magill resigned as UPenn's president last year following harsh criticism in the wake of congressional testimony over anti-Semitic harassment of students.

Since Israel began its war with Hamas in Gaza after the terror group's Oct. 7 attack, political protests erupted on campuses throughout the United States with Columbia at the forefront.

Shafik testified in April before a House hearing in Washington, D.C., on campus anti-Semitism, days before protesters took over Columbia.

On Wednesday, New York Republican Rep. Elise Stefanik -- who grilled Shafik during the House Education Committee hearing -- said "Three down, so many to go."

"After failing to protect Jewish students and negotiating with pro-Hamas terrorists, this forced resignation is long overdue," Stefanik wrote in a post on X.

"We will continue to demand moral clarity, condemnation of anti-Semitism, protection of Jewish students and faculty, and stronger leadership from American higher education institutions."

For nearly two weeks, encampments took over much of Columbia as dozens of demonstrators barricaded themselves inside Hamilton Hall. Hundreds of New York Police officers cleared the building and made arrests on April 30, as the university warned students that they could face expulsion.

While Columbia's administration continued to support Shafik a month later, faculty members in Columbia University's Department of Arts and Sciences passed a vote of no-confidence against Shafik over her handling of the demonstrations.

Shafik never commented on the no-confidence vote, but called the protests in her resignation letter "a period of turmoil where it has been difficult to overcome divergent views across our community."

On Wednesday, Columbia's board of trustees tapped Katrina Armstrong, chief executive officer of the Columbia University Irving Medical Center, to serve as the university's interim president.

"As I step into this role, I am acutely aware of the trials the university has faced over the past year," Armstrong wrote in an email to the university. "We should neither understate their significance, nor allow them to define who we are and what we will become."

As for Shafik, she will return to Britain -- where she had been president of the London School of Economics and Political Science -- to work with the House of Lords where she will fight global poverty and promote sustainable development.

"I am honored to have been asked by the UK's Foreign Secretary to chair a review of the government's approach to international development and how to improve capability," she said, adding these are "areas of lifelong interest to me."

[soranihimawari]

If I Touch You Like This…

Based on this hc I have via the corresponding q&a

Warnings: 🔞—mdni// adult relationships// fucking with Dabi/Touya// slight confessions be damned!!

Pairing: Dabi x (f!) reader// reader has a secret quirk//soft dabi is kinda cool// mentions of pregnancy and family planning

Word count: 3.1 K

Burning buildings in your youth have become a norm. Clearly as the world around your academics have since been turned to ash, you practically walk away unscathed. Your quirk manifested in chemistry class once upon a time and considering now you live by the docks, you’re taking time off. Ok, maybe that’s what you said when your parents made a FaceTime call, but you didn’t want to make them a worry you took up an informant job on the downlow.

The black market is a wild section to navigate since the League and it’s associates have been forming teams on the inside of the law for a couple months back. Your experience as a photographer for arson cases with a primary focus on cold cases, come to your email addresses every other week. You think it’s coincidental the fire department houses you on the docks and with the ability to be set on fire haphazardly with the inherent ability to not burn, but rather wear the flames well, causes you be a prime candidate.

Lately, because of your line work, you met him. The one villain whom you were debriefed in having a short temper and even shorter fuse. So, why does he cover your mouth with his as he abuses your drenched pussy on your kitchen floor? Why does he shudder when the thoughts of last month’s sex-carnival where he discovers your praise kink (and you called him by a name he thought you forgot about) and his crazy-drunken stare has you cumming around him be the main thoughts during this meeting with the League?

Perhaps Toge said it best: “a fool in love is what ya are, Dabi.”

“Watch it blondie,” he warns. “It was a one time deal.”

“One time?” Twice strokes his chin. “Dabi, you had that ‘pussy drunk’ stare all meeting…”

He scoffs, rolls his eyes, and says he’s stepping out before he burns them on purpose. Instead, he burns the police academy branch as he does whenever he “soul searches.” Your name lights up his phone with a series of texts asking him if he ever needs you to come back to where you two met. You mention buying him a whiskey, he obliges. Only around you can Todoroki “Dabi” Touya be honest.

Like right now, when he’s buried so deep inside you’re nearly crying from how great he uses you; you don’t care how much he missed your body. Not when he fondles your exposed breast with one hand the other reaching between your legs you have wrapped around his lower back.

“Are y-yah close?” You whisper hotly, eyes closed bracing yourself for another harsh jolt of pleasure.

“Are you?”

Two words has you nodding and panting like you’re about to pass out. Your tiles are going to be ruined if his quirk activated before you crack open to see how pointed his brows get. The closer he is to us own high, the further you dive into your release: first and foremost, for your safety, you don’t let anyone know who literally keeps your bed warm at night; second, with how he abused your other orfaces from two days ago, missionary was the only other position you could have him rig you with the silk clothes that bound your hands together for now. Having him hit it raw before doesn’t bother you, you figure if a scare happens, you’ll let him know right away whatever the news is—you make enough money after all, but learning to cover for a lover who is wanted globally for his crimes does little to excuse the man from the child’s life. Sure, in the last few months leading to this exchange on your kitchen floor, you express your half of the concern because science dictates if boy truly fucks girl well, then they’re lucky to have children. You discuss this with him freely, on the off chance you don’t contact him for months. You came up with the contingency plans if he doesn’t want to be a part because of “work reasons,” yet he stops you saying he doesn’t mind.

“A firm believer in my choice, huh?” you jest.

He kisses your brow when he walks around the coffee table to join you in the couch. The kiss turns into two, three, then more. Amazing what a three week (or once a month) dick appointment can get a lady. A love sustained by secret rendezvous and nondescript assailant conjectures are enough to keep up appearances.

Presently, as your hips thrust against his, your reality snaps into focus rather quickly. Your hands grip his shoulders as the carnality of his love takes flight. He pictures you a bit older, a bit rounder, knowing he had his fun filling you up, enough that you thought what color eyes a child born from the chaos his parents create, and you don’t make a sound but a broken mewl claiming he’s to ruin you like this until his seed takes. And if that doesn’t make the lovesick fool fuck you harder to the point you can feel his primed-coated cock hit your cervix harshly, he knows he won’t stop.

“Ack! Fucking ‘ell,” you bark a laugh matching his pace. You’re legs though propped now still guide him to leave them quaking. “S’good!”

He has you do that cute squirm where he has to keep you steady on purpose, coercing you to meet him where the chord internal would snap.

“Atta girl. C’mon, show me how good I make you feel,” his hand massage your hardened nub. The other stills it’s work from pinching the underside of your freshly bruised breast. Your body pushes further and further along the tile. A few moments later, your movements still a bit and as you hear him call out to you, you feel the warmth rush forth from where you’re conjoined and by god does he fuck you gentlier than before; carnal desire aside, you pick yourself up off the ground, cupping his face with one hand, the other leaving well earned scratches in his shoulder.

“It’s ok,” you repeat over and over. You could tell by the way his body shakes still, making sure your tiny abused hole takes his load well, he breathes harsh well-earned wishes. He wants this, whatever this is—a duty free fuck with a diligent woman. He wants whatever this love produces if you fall a bit ill, questioning whether or not you’re with his child. The thought of having you hidden by his peers is enough to warrant a breathy, “I want” from him. His hands press against your lower abdomen. You’re still in a daze when you hum his name.

“Me too,” you say, working to cockwarm him best you can; the plugs with his signature in the toys drawer are too far at the moment. You steadily rock with him telling him you don’t plan to lie about your relationship if you do fall pregnant after this time. Talking mostly while you allow him to collect himself mentally and physically is a simple thing. But also hearing him call you terms of endearment when you press his head against your collarbone ignites his own quirk. You watch as the flames grow from his hands position themselves on the floor and the other on your back. The hotter the flame, the more the tiles heat up. You don’t flinch, nor do you cry the hotter he burns literally for you. And only you. You’re quick to activate your own.

“Touya,” your singsong voice coaxes him to leave the apology on the tip of his tongue for later. “Open your eyes for me, yeah?”

Curious to see why he doesn’t hear you scream like mad, he listens when he pries himself off of you. The fire alarms in your building do go off and he hurriedly slips away from your aching core. He thinks he has to be so far away from you, but you shake your head with a sadistic smile. The fire when he opens his eyes lick and kiss your skin, but no burn marks flambé your love-bruised skin. Hearing about the chances of meeting a flame-retardant (or resistant) quirk user was a million to one, so when you stand as you hear the sirens coming to put out the fire, you bend down to where Dabi kneels at eye level of your exposed self, licking his lips with an impish grin. You curl your fingers under his chin to look at you.

“Your flames can’t hurt me,” you whisper, rubbing your thumb over his lips.

“Gods be warned I will ruin you woman,” Dabi says, swatting your hand away to rub his nose against the inside of your thigh like a loyal dog.

“Then we should go. You don’t want to be caught fucking your child into me in a burnt unit,” you feel a wet stripe slide from mid thigh to where your mixed juices threaten to run down again.

“I know a place,” he suggests, nodding toward the under-post of a dock. The boardwalk shaded above is dark enough that when you arrive, your building is engulfed in flames as your lover fucks you full again this time the beach is a witness to how you have each ruined each other for years to come.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Lo and behold, after another series of months and secret rendezvous, you and your lover get your wish. It’s nearly the end of the year when you begin to show a little more. Your dresses for your new line of work accentuate the growing child in you. You kept your word with Dabi saying no one is to know who the father is; the lie you’ve filled out on all your doctors visits was that the father had been a victim as of late in the string of League activities.

A collapsed building during the day to being down the heroes’ best had just reentered the newspapers again and you at the time, didn’t know you were expecting. You mentioned during your first check up that you thought you had a cold meaning your taste buds were out of whack and your cravings were a bit like your normal pms ones, but this was different. Dabi comes to find out from you when you sat down on the new bar stools in your house. You stopped renting apartments because so far, he ruined and it burned the second and only third unit you rented.

“You’re good,” you said with a sheepish grin. Your hand rubbed down a firm spot.

“Seriously?” he could pass out on the spot. “How? I mean, I know what I fucking did, but—”

“Remember when I moved in about two and half months ago?”

That was not too long prior; of course he remembered. You had him tied up for your pleasure and you recently bought enough furniture that you needed him to break in the bed frame. Ok, so you and him hilariously broke the bed frame. The mattress is on the floor and for all that is holy, having him hit you from behind had you reeling in the wonton need to feel full and surrounded by him. He asked you where you want him to finish and in your delirium, you change positions so when you cried a desperate, “inside, fucking inside,” he honors your request.

“So, I fucked you real nice, huh,” his voice has a crude laughter hidden in it. His hand hovers atop yours to feel the barely there bump, but he can tell how tight the skin must be.

“‘Fraid so,” you mumble.

That was nearly seven months ago. Sure to keep appearances, you continue working up until your maternity leave is set to begin. At least that’s what the paperwork dates set. You keep up with the appointments saying you’ve moved in with an old friend from school saying they don’t mind being the child’s father figure and truthfully you confide in the ultrasound lab if you could be together you would have his child not the theoretical deadman. The nursery has since been painted on days the league does not need their human flame thrower, crib of oak dipped in flame retardant coating had since made itself known. The little kicks to your ribs here and there when you do engage in sex (because your libido is never truly satisfied in the earlier stages) with Dabi, you always thought you wouldn’t be a limber, but boy were you wrong. Whatever prenatal vitamins you have taken has made you a bit more flexible; you’ve been going to Pilates and other workout classes tailored for your growing body. Lately, on cooler nights like tonight, you balance a takeout box between your overly rounded breasts and bump. Dabi comes to find you asleep, your arm drowsily rubbing your babe’s home. You breathe out a breathy whine stating how, “don’t kick me too hard now” and Dabi chuckles more to himself. He kneels down making a smart ass remark announcing his presence. The child immediately kicks your hand as if to say, “ma, he’s here. i know my father’s voice anywhere.” You breathe out rather quick, just like the breathing techniques your attending suggests when the Braxton hicks start.

“False pains again?” Dabi asks. You whine saying the real ones will hurt like a bitch.

“Yeah, but your my badass bitch,” he says, poking your cheek.

“Ack!” you breathe again as this too shall pass. “Great practice I swear kid.”

Dabi brings a gentle palm to your roundness, saying a quiet “thank you.”

“For what?” you ponder.

“This,” he answers, his nose traces your temples. “Us.”

You scoff. “I had a little help.”

Both of you stay like this on your couch for a few more hours, putting on a movie. You know the man to your right loves you more each day. His touch never wavers nor does it ever threaten to leave you alone. Dabi does well to seek you out in the names of people to not harm during routine walks to “stir the League’s pot.” When approached as to why, he says you’re an old friend and in another timeline you’re either fucking or are ready to marry him. Twice and Shigariki as enthusiastically as they can, call his bluff once noticing the scratches on his shoulders. Toge too once had crossed paths with you saying you should be checked out mentally because she knows what kind of relationship this would be. You defend yourself saying if she was so sure it was so one sided, then, “why does he picture my pussy when he fucks his fist on away missions?” You and Toge became acquaintances after that, having girls day and spas during the summer leading up to her being hospitalized by the most recent uprising gone wrong. Twice had come to visit your work location too stating something along the lines of “he asked for you. Things are dangerous now, can you leave for a bit?” It was the first time you were brought to the barracks and you run toward your lover stating that if he were more gravely injured he should have called. There is a wicked grin on the man with ice blue eyes’ face: he explains about what made the day so special.

“Told my brother and father who I really am,” and you take a step back as he loses himself for moment in laughter.

“He’s been like this since he came back,” Shigaraki’s cold voice had said. “He asked for you, but hems in a fragile state of mind right now…”

“I understand. I’ll stay here until he comes to his senses, yeah?” You said.

“Of course. Make yourself at home Miss…?”

“YN.”

When you have the room to yourselves, you suggest to move into his designated room. Dabi follows the pretty young thing he loved; he had a hard time coming down from his high of the reveal. He rambled on and on about it. But the fact of the matter was that you didn’t care. You still loved the fractured mental minded man, you still wanted to fuck him, which surprised him to a certain extent the second he returns from his psychotic break. You still wanted him to cum inside and to use his tongue to lick you clean. He gives in to have Shigaraki talk you into moving to a safe house far from the public’s eye. It’s there when you moved in, the idea of wanting more from each other. Every three weeks he comes by for an extended weekend and every fuck you had shared together, was practice for making sure you both had still wanted what was discussed almost a year prior. One morning, Dabi discovers you in the room checking out yourself in the full length mirror in your closet. You smirk thinking about the conversation from before as you spot him to come closer. He hugs you from behind gently burrowing his face in your shoulder.

“Do you still want—?”

“Damn right. Why do you think I always ask where I should spill my—why are you laughing bunny?”

“Because you’re more human than you think. And of course I fucking do. Just a thought was all.”

You turn in his arms saying if the fates allow, you’d let him fuck you until your doc says you’re positive this time. Not counting the times before you confused your cravings for something else; also fuck that place on third street for not spoiling their sour cream (your food poisoning also almost made you rethink your personal internal calendar).

In more present times, the rumor is true. A league member has taken time off to be with his family. Double lives are often messy, yet as you feel the warmth relax your lower back, Dabi chuckles whispering to his child within, “play nice with your mama.”

“Great, they listen to you,” you pout. Poking his chest, he laughs again.

“Feeling better now?” he asks.

“Mmhm.”

“Good. Get some sleep. Both of you.”

You stifle a yawn, snuggling closer to him obeying his command.

As of right now, those who know of this development in the League are on a need to know basis; also they are the only ones with your safe house location. Toge and Twice volunteer to patrol the neighborhood by where you reside as your first pregnancy is close to being over. Granted in a room full of villains, the two of them prove their loyalty to Dabi and by extent you, when you see a pair of onesies and a rattle on the window sill one morning. You recognize Toge’s script:

Take care of ‘em yn-one-san.

—toge chan and twice

Oh, you plan to. You definitely do. Seven months in to this new chapter, you sigh thinking about the days leading up to now. The sleeping man next to you owns you and you can’t wait to see what the future holds. For now, you lay yourself back down in a more dignified position, worming your way under the bedding to ensure a hint of what you think he should have for breakfast.

[axoxtxhxh]

Pairing: Sub!Goshiki x DomFem! Chubby!Reader Part 1 Summary: You met your good friend Goshiki at work one day, having similar interests in books. When you start developing feelings for him, things get difficult. Especially when he asks a special favor. Content: Body image issues

A/N: Thank you for following along! We’re now on our fourth week of stories! Both virginity loss stories are three parts. The second part will release on Wednesday and the third part on Friday. Be sure to check out @millenialfanfictionaddiction​s story Oikawa’s Oasis! You can reach it through the Please Me Series Masterlist. Feedback is appreciated!

This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to be like this at all. It wasn’t like you had your whole life planned out, in fact, it was quite the opposite. You didn’t know what you were doing half the time and you had reached a point in your life where you were kind of okay with that. While there were good things you tried to bring into your life, there was an even longer list of bad things you tried to keep out.

After hitting your late twenties, you decided it was important to take care of yourself. Getting rid of toxic friendships and focusing on your mental and physical health became your priority. You were doing a great job, as much as the rolls on your stomach and all over chubby look you had attested against it.

One of the other things you decided to finally pursue was your dream of being a romance novelist. You quit your nine-to-five day job that you hated and started working at your favorite bookstore in town while your nights were spent writing. The support you had from your friends at the bookstore was way more than you could ever have imagined. Even your boss loved hearing about your story ideas.

“You look tired.” Your boss, Dylan, joked as you walked into the breakroom, ready to start your shift.

“I was up late last night writing.” You hung up your jacket in your locker. “I could really use some… cof…fee.”

Your eyes lit up as you saw the full cup of coffee in your boss’s hand, extended to you. It was from your favorite shop down the street.

“How did you know I wanted coffee? Are you even real?” You took the cup and gulped down half of it.

“You forget, I’m your beta reader.” He laughed. “When you’re up writing, I’m up reading. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Thank you!” You held the cup up to him, then took another big gulp.

“You get another tattoo?” He asked, eyeing your arm as you closed your locker. You looked down at your arm and smiled.

“Yep. Trying to finish up this sleeve.”

“I have a question.” He leaned back in his chair, his hands resting in his lap. “Why don’t you ever write with characters that look like you?”

“People like me don’t get to have romances like those in the books.” You shrugged and headed out to the floor.

The morning mid-shift was always your favorite. As much as you hated getting up early, the bookstore was at its quietest then and you could relax with your coworkers. You spotted your favorite co-worker manning the help desk and focusing on something on the other side of the bookstore.

“What are you looking at?”

“Shh…” They put their fingers to their lips. “I don’t want him to know I see him.”

“See who? What are you talking about?” You whispered, trying not to expose yourselves even though you still didn’t know what you were looking at.

“That guy.” They pointed and your eyes followed the direction of their finger to see a tall figure in the magazine section, his hood up, mask on and wearing sunglasses. You could see black bangs peeking out under the hood.

“So why don’t you want him to know you see him?”

“In case he’s stealing.” They whisper-yelled and you laughed.

“I’ll just go talk to him.” You stood up straight and made your way over. He looked a little less shady up close because you could see that he was lost in his reading and didn’t even really notice you being there.

When you first walked up, you saw him reading one of the car magazines from the shelf, but now that you were closer, you could see he had a book inside the magazine and was reading the book.

“You know, normally people put the magazine in the book, not the other way around.” You leaned closer to him and he jumped back, shrieking as he dropped the magazine and the book. He backed away from you and if he didn’t have his entire face covered with a mask and sunglasses, you could only imagine his eyes wide and his mouth open.

The magazine was all bent on the ground and you leaned over to pick it up along with the book. You could only imagine what he was reading that he had it hidden in a car magazine. Putting the magazine back on the shelf, you looked at the cover of the book. Romance?

“Were you reading this?” You held the book up to him with a smile.

“No.” He shook his head back and forth anxiously.

“Then why is it here?”

“It fell.”

“From where?” You questioned.

“Alright fine, I was reading it.”

He dropped his head low and you gasped sarcastically, your hand to your chest. “No! Really? I would never have guessed.”

“Very funny.” You laughed, looking back down at the book.

“So why are you hiding then? Or did you not notice there’s only like two other people shopping.” You gestured to the rest of the store. “Or maybe you couldn’t see well with those incredibly dark sunglasses.”

“That’s not it.” He pulled off the sunglasses and mask, dropping the hood to his sweatshirt as he looked around the store nervously. “I just don’t want anyone to know I’m reading it.”

“What’s wrong with it?” You looked at the book. It was one of your favorites. “This is a great book.”

His eyes widened as he quickly looked back to you. “You like romance novels?”

“I love them. I’m trying to write one actually. This one has given me a lot of inspiration for my current story.”

“That’s so cool.” He smiled, looking really amazed, you weren’t sure by what though.

“So, let me get this straight.” You narrowed your eyes skeptically. “You come in here to secretly read these romance novels because you don’t want people to know you’re reading them?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you just buy it and read it at home?”

“I have a roommate and I don’t want him to know.”

“You could go to the library.”

“They don’t have the ones I like and they don’t release as quickly as you guys do.”

“How long have you been doing this?” His mouth opened and he turned away, looking nervous by the question so you changed the subject. “Never mind. Honestly, as long as you’re not stealing or planning to steal, you can read however you’d like.”

You stepped back, adjusting the unorganized magazines, and turned to walk back to your station.

“Well, wait.” He went to grab your arm, but thought better and pulled back as you turned around. “You said you write.”

“Yes.” You nodded at him.

“Can I read your stuff?”

“Why would I let you read my work?” You laughed slightly uncomfortably. It was a weird question. He doesn’t know anything about you or your writing. You could actually suck at it. “I don’t even know you.”

“Goshiki.” He put his hand out with a smile and you shook it, telling him your name. “So we’re friends now?”

You started laughing. You couldn’t believe this guy. Friends? You met less than two minutes ago because he was being a creep in your store.

“You don’t have to laugh.” He grumbled.

“Why do you want to read my work so badly? You don’t know me. It could very well suck.”

“I just don’t have anyone to talk to about this stuff. I’ve been reading these books for years. I tried to avoid them in high school because I knew I would get made fun of, but I’ve never met anyone in person that likes them too. Not since you.”

The look on his face made you feel so guilty. Why did you have to have such a big heart? The guy just wants to talk about romance novels. He also had a point. You barely knew anyone that liked romance novels and you worked at a book store. Honestly, you could use a second opinion. Dylan had no idea what he was talking about half the time.

“Fine.” You sighed and he started smiling.

“Really?”

“Yes, but I’m not letting you read it without me watching. The last thing I need is you to steal my ideas.”

“That’s perfect.” He pulled out his phone. “There’s a coffee shop just down the street I like. We can meet there. Can I have your number?”

“Are you talking about Milstead?” You took his phone and typed your information, handing him your phone.

“Yeah, you know it?”

“Know it? I love it. I practically keep them in business.”

That’s where your friendship with the weird guy in the bookstore started. You weren’t so stuck in middle school that you would call him your best friend, but he was definitely your best friend. You had even caught him calling you his best friend to your coworkers and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have you smiling.

You had never gotten along with someone so immediately the way you did with Goshiki. You had an endless list of similar interests, from favorite books to your favorite coffee shop. You even had the same oddball order from the café. Though, you were both pretty sure that he accidentally got your order once and liked it so much he continued ordering it.

It didn’t take long for you both to start hanging out nearly every day and he started coming into the bookstore to talk to you rather than actually reading the novels he loved. After a couple weeks you trusted him enough to email him your work and it was only a month into your friendship before he was going over to your apartment to hang out regularly.

“Don’t you think it’s weird how close you’ve gotten?” Dylan asked as he helped stock the shelves. He had been wondering how your writing was going and if you were going to finish the latest chapter you had been working on. When you told him Goshiki was coming over to your place later so it wouldn’t get done, he worried.

“I don’t think it’s weird. Is it?” You didn’t feel uncomfortable. Honestly, Goshiki didn’t give off any of the red flags you were so used to seeing in people. He was genuinely a nice person who loved the same things as you.

“I don’t know. You just so happen to love all the same things?” He paused his stocking and looked at you. “Are you sure he doesn’t just have feelings for you and maybe he’s pretending to like the same things as you?”

“Stop trying to put me in my romance novel.” You laughed. “Guys don’t do that for me.”

Later that night you were in your kitchen waiting for Goshiki to get there. You had done something so stupid, something so completely thoughtless that you knew would ruin your mood yet you couldn’t resist the torture apparently. You weighed yourself. The level of fluctuating your weight did was honestly unbelievable. You always had good days when it was down, but days like today when it was up, you couldn’t help but let it sour your mood.

There was a knock at the door before it opened up and Goshiki walked in. You hadn’t given him a key or anything, but it was only a matter of time before you both hit that step.

“I brought Oreos.” He smiled, setting the container on the counter, pulling it open and eating one. He grabbed a second one and split it open, handing you the side without the cream. “Here.”

“You can have my side.” You tried to smile.

“But you always eat my half that doesn’t have cream.”

“It’s fine.” You shook your head. “I shouldn’t be eating it.”

“Shouldn’t be eating it? Are you sick?” He pulled another Oreo from the container and ate it in one bite. He was honestly so lucky he could eat whatever he wanted.

“No just watching my weight. I sort of fell back into some old habits.”

“What’s wrong with your weight? You look great.”

“Let’s get started on the story.” You tried to change the subject.

“Did you finish the chapter?” Goshiki’s eyes were wide and he spit the dryness of the cookies from his mouth out of excitement. You laughed as he quickly covered his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Maybe.” You smiled coyly, grabbing his hand and he grabbed the Oreo container. “Come on.”

Moving to the couch, you sat on the end, Goshiki plopping next to you, and you put your laptop in his lap. There was a tiny bit of anxiety building in your stomach as you sat there watching him read and you were pretty sure part of it was what Dylan had said earlier. Was it possible that Goshiki had feelings for you? You watched as he put another Oreo in his mouth, his eyes glued to screen of your computer, scanning back and forth as he read. You weren’t even sure if he was blinking, the glow of the monitor shining onto his eyes. There was no way someone could be that into you to fake that look of concentration.

You smiled to yourself and kept watching him read. This chapter had a pretty steamy scene in it but you’d known Goshiki long enough and seen him read enough of your work to know that it didn’t matter what he was reading, his expression never changed. His eyes were always wide with interest, mouth closed in a pout.

He put another Oreo in and you watched him as he chewed, his jaw working. You could see the sharp, jagged edges of the cookie through his cheek until it eventually became a smooth, round bump and he swallowed it, reaching for another.

Propping your head up on your hand on the back of the couch, you continued watching him. He was definitely good-looking. You had noticed how good-looking he was the first day you saw him in the magazine section, hiding his romance novel. Not wanting to interrupt him, you tried not to laugh, but definitely couldn’t hold back the smile as you thought about the memory. Would it be so bad if he did have feelings for you? You had dated some really terrible guys in the past. Goshiki wouldn’t even be close to the list those guys were on.

He licked his lips, wiping Oreo crumbs from his mouth and you licked your own lips, swallowing hard as you watched him. You liked the same food, the same coffee, the same books, you had so many hobbies that overlapped and you could honestly spend hours with him without getting bored. You started to think that maybe you were feeling anxious not because of what Dylan thought of Goshiki, but maybe what you were feeling about him. Was it maybe you that had feelings for Goshiki?

“Wow, that was such a good—” He turned to look at you but noticed something in your face, an expression he wasn’t sure of. “Everything okay?”

You had made a lot of questionable decisions in your life, some of them you regretted, some led you to the most amazing times. This last year especially was a time of making really great decisions, cleaning out the bad and bringing in the good. You weren’t sure which direction this decision was going to take you, but you leaned into Goshiki anyway. His eyes went a little wide as your lips barely touched. You wanted to give him time to pull away if he wanted, but he didn’t and that made you push yourself the last inch until your lips met his.

Soft, plush, velvety lips pressed against yours and for an instant you were taken out of the moment, your head swirling with a mix of feelings, amazing feelings that you weren’t even sure you could separate but it didn’t matter because the cocktail they created in your head made you feel drunk, stupidly drunk as you kissed him. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you pulled back.

“Oh my—I’m sorry—I don’t—"

“No, it… it feels good.” He brought his hands up to your cheeks and pushed his lips against yours again, this time without any hesitation. You never knew the feeling of his nose touching yours or the little puffs of his breath against your face, or just how warm, calloused, and big his hands would feel against your cheek. Suddenly you were feeling them all at once and you pulled him closer, your tongue licking over his lips until he opened his mouth.

He dropped his hand to your waist, rubbing at the fleshiness of your body and you couldn’t stop the heavy beating of your heart. The awkwardness you had briefly worried about didn’t exist, it was only bliss. It was the best kind of overwhelming and you wanted more of him.

Pushing the laptop to the other side of him, you lifted yourself up until you could climb over him, straddling his lap. His hands immediately went to your plump hips, cradling them, but again you wanted more and you scooted yourself closer.

“Uh—I…” He gasped, sitting back from you.

“Is this too fast?”

“I’ve just never—I mean, I don’t know how—I’ve never—reading it is totally different.”

“Are you okay?” He kind of looked like he was shutting down. He was saying a lot, but none of it was complete and made no sense to you.

His eyes widened as he whispered quietly to himself. “Holy shit, my dick’s hard.”

“Goshi—”

“I have to go.” He started standing up with you in his lap and you quickly moved out of the way so he could get up. “I’m sorry. I just… I have to go.”

He didn’t even turn around to look at you as he moved hurriedly to the front door of your apartment. You heard the door quickly open and close and you couldn’t even let yourself feel bad. You were just confused.

It was possible you misread the situation, but he seemed really into it. Maybe he changed his mind partway through. You didn’t want to think about you being the problem, but it was hard to ignore. He felt your weight. You sat on his lap and he held you and maybe he finally realized that you didn’t ‘look great’ like he always told you.

You sighed, sitting back on the couch and running your fingers through your hair. You had done so much this last year to better yourself. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to be like this at all. Great decisions would lead to great opportunities and you were trying to bring good things into your life. Falling for your best friend was not on that list, yet here you were.

Shit.

.....

@chaotic-nick​ @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes​ @serostapesweat​ @lovelyzabrak-meadow​

[bibbykins]

Cookies and Fingertips (M)

Some Jimin loving! We love to see it! I hope you all enjoy this installation as I try to figure out how to properly flesh out characters in a drabble series. Am not sure how I’m doing there but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless. As always, tips are not required but greatly appreciated, just like your thoughts! Pls share your thoughts though, they brighten my day!

Note: This is part of a drabble series The Household’s Bunny

Summary: You and Jimin met long before you moved in, and yet, you’re not sure if he even likes you. So what else is there to do but take every opportunity to talk to him until you figure it out? 

Jimin has had a debilitating crush on you long before you moved in and he is almost positive there is no way you’d feel the same. And yet, he doesn’t have the strength to properly avoid you.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+, soft yandere-ish, obsessive thoughts, possessive thoughts, fingering, handjob, subspace, cum eating (sorta?), discussion of hospitalization, mentions of a stalker, mentions of passing out, the word “fat” is used, a moment of thigh riding, surprise kiss, insecurity

Jimin looked across the courtyard as his eyes remained fixated on your form. You were a simple second year in college and he was just a breath away from graduating. He first laid eyes on you a mere year ago and he can't remember what life was truly like before you smiled at him. You both had only ever exchanged pleasantries, so he opted to wait for the right time to make his move.

“That’s not true.” Your voice snapped Jimin from his staring contest with the PowerPoint slides, “That’s an antiquated idea, not a proven theory.” He looked to you, a couple rows down. You were plump and cute to say the least. He recognized you from a few of his courses. He had heard you were a double major in Art and… damn, what was the other?

The man you had rebutted had his face turning red, “It is proven, it was studied in 1973 with significant results yielded.” Jimin had no idea what you both were debating but he watched a sea of student nod in agreeance with you, some with the guy. What class was he even in? He looked at the PowerPoint slides, reading them for the first time today. Ah, he was in his psych of gender class. Maybe you were a psych major.

“In 1973, with no women in the participant pool, are you not seeing the issue in making a multi-gendered generalization whilst utilizing one genders perspective, a perspective that is also quite dated, mind you?” You cocked a brow and Jimin found himself a bit amused at the man who scoffed.

“You learn those words in high school two months ago?” He snapped back and Jimin grimaced along with most of the lecture hall. 

“What? You need me to define them?” You quipped, eliciting some laughter as the professor regrouped.

“Ah, educational discourse.” The professor joked lightly as Jimin’s eyes remained fixed on you as you noticed a few lingering gazes on you, shrinking in your seat.

He saw you in the lunch hall, sitting alone, not uncommon for anyone in college, except your eyes were a bit puffy. Before he could even question the urge, he acted. Within a few steps, he was at your table and you looked up in confusion, “Uh, hi?” You meekly spoke and Jimin realized he had no plan.

“U-Uh, you… uh… do you like the cookies?” He forced out and immediately wished he could disappear.

You looked down at the cookie on your plate, “Uh, yes? Is-Is this a fat joke or do you actually want to know?” You asked cautiously.

Jimin’s eyes widened, “No, I mean yes, I mean no, I would never make fun of your weight.” He squeezed his eyes and sighed, not able to see your growing smile at his mental turmoil, “I have psych of gender with you and people rarely talk in that class so I thought you were pretty cool.” He smiled and he noticed you relax.

You nodded, smiling slightly, “Ah, I see. Thank you.” You beamed and it was like he felt the warmth from you, “I don’t do super well with attention but I also have poor impulse control.” You chuckled and he finally understood why you had cried and his heart strings were tugged a bit, “And yes, the cookies are good.” You split one in half and offered it to him.

Life goes by a lot quicker when one waits for the perfect opportunity. This much he found out quickly when he found himself a year later, looking across the courtyard at you, this time as your TA. He tried dating to get the daunting idea of talking to you after that singular interaction in which he forgot to give you his name from his mind to no avail. No matter, surely this would be the year.

”Jiminie is so hot!” Jimin continued to pretend not to hear his ex, Yoora, whine in your ear as he observed the intro to modern dance class.

You looked to her thoughtfully as you stretched, “You mean the TA, that is not that far away?” Your voice was lowered, but he could still hear you. He found himself listening closer, wondering if you remembered the singular interaction you both had. Yoora nodded in the corner of his eye.

“Yep.” She affirmed, “We dated, it was magical, and he’s still hot.” She mused and Jimin grimaced a bit, feeling bad he dated a girl that seemed to be a decent friend of yours, “Do you know him?”

Jimin perked up a bit, “We talked once, seems nice, is obviously hot.” You shrugged, “I doubt he remembers me, though.” You leaned down to reach past your left foot as Yoora urged you on with her eyes, “I had gotten into a weird debate with this one dude in a class we had and he saw me after, and I had just cried because I hate arguing and stares.” You and Yoora laughed a bit, “Then, he just came up to me and asked if I liked the cookies I were eating, and I wasn’t sure if he was calling me fat at first.” Yoora gasped and Jimin felt pain just thinking about the awkwardness, “He wasn’t, and he got cutely flustered when I asked and then I gave him half of my cookie and that’s all.” You moved to your other leg, “And then he never talked to me again.” You laughed and Jimin wanted the floor to swallow him.

Another year goes by. The day before he was going to try and ask you out, you were hospitalized. He didn't know how to even approach the topic with you, but he did try to be there for you throughout that year. The professor he was TA for insisted Jimin also utilize his emails, so all throughout your brief stay in medical care, it was him who received your bubbly emails. The emails full of little emoticons and exclamation points that made him giddy and took him hours to conceptualize a response to. Although you didn't know it was him giving you extensions and safe regards, he still meant it. 

He was practicing when he got the email, 

“Attention students, 

We have received knowledge of an incident that has resulted in the hospitalization of a student that occurred within an apartment close to campus. Proper authorities have been notified and the student is recovering well. Please remain safe and vigilant.” 

His face twisted in confusion when he got a text from the professor he was TA for that you were the student in question.

Throughout the semester, Jimin watched you with careful eyes as you slowly acclimated back to yourself. He wondered how he could have been so blinded by your smile that he couldn't properly see your eye bags or the way you looked over your shoulder when you thought no one was looking at you, or how he couldn't see he wasn't the only one looking at you. 

When you returned, he watched your eyes relax and your guard go down again. He just wished he could've been there to help you get there. He trudged home one day and found you, and then his whole world was flipped by you again.

Since moving in, he found himself way more advanced with you than he ever imagined. You would plop next to him on the couch and give him a smile, "How was your day, Jiminie?" You beamed at him each time and he nearly choked on his spit each time.

He would mumble an answer and you would hum before watching TV with him, a show he deliberately put on each time he heard you come home. Eventually, you began watching competition shows together, theorizing who would win what. It was comfortable and close, and he found himself falling for you even harder.

"Do you wanna have lunch together?" Your voice pulled him from his thoughts in the practice room he had on his floor in the building. He had agreed to help with your final. The only time he could talk to you without it being a mental nightmare was when it was about dancing. The only time he could initiate contact was in this studio. 

The studio gave him a certain air of confidence that even you could see. He wasn't a different person, more so multi-faceted. There was the shy and bumbling part of Jimin just as much as there was the sharp-eyed and focused Jimin. Not to mention the way his fingers would dance on your form as he gave you pointers made you unreasonably aroused.

Even so, determined to challenge himself, he nodded, "Lead the way." His voice was smooth even after two straight hours of practice and you wondered how he could look so hot work out clothes.

You both decided to pick up food and eat it at the studio. You sat across from each other as you ate in polite conversation. It was after you both picked up the food and sat on the floor you spoke up again, "You know, Jiminie." You started, eyes shyly fixated on the floor, "I wanted to thank you for not telling the guys about my, uh, incident a year ago." You finally looked him in the eyes, a soft smile on your face, "Not that it's a huge secret, especially on campus, but I just prefer to tell people myself." You mused.

He blinked, surprised you would thank him for something like that, "O-Of course, I mean, a lot of rumors were going around anyways, so even if I did want to tell them, I doubt I have only the facts." He shrugged, "It's not anyone else's business regardless."

You stifled a little giggle, "Yeah, some of the stories got a bit crazy." You sighed a bit, "From a stalker attacking me to me passing out in the middle of the street." Jimin looked up at you. You didn’t meet his gaze, most likely reliving the aftermath of the whole campus finding out you were hospitalized and are a cam girl in the same week. Not that you were ever hiding you job, but you just wished you could tell people on your own terms.

"Yeah, some crazy things get told in the Arts department." He murmured, "I only knew most of the facts because your TA for Professor Lee's class."

It was your turn to look up, but instead of confusion he saw a polite smile, "I know, silly." You chuckled and when you saw his confused face you looked at him incredulously, "Come on, you're Park Jimin! Of course I'm gonna know the 'hottest dance major'" You fake gushed and he finally broke a laugh, making you giddy. 

"Of all things to know me by." He shook his head, smile still present.

You studied his face as his eyes scrunched and cheeks lifted, making you smile as well, "I've never made you smile before and your smile is so pretty." You mused, "I need to step up my comedy game."

"You've never seen me smile?" He looked surprised at this, considering he always smiled like an idiot when he stared longingly at you.

"I mean, sort of, but not to this degree." You shook your head, "I was starting to think you didn't like me for a while." 

His eyes widened at this and he panicked, "No, no! I do like you, a lot!" He exclaimed, much to your amusement and to his dismay. You watched him get red with a grin.

He stammered, staring at his fork before he heard your melodious laugh. He looked up and his face softened at the sight of your smile, "You're too cute, Jiminie." You reached forward and pinched his cheek, making his breath hitch. Your cooing tone made something click inside him. He didn't want to be just cute to you, he wanted to be more than any adjective, he wanted to be yours.

He reached up, hand going to wrap around your wrist loosely, "I was the hottest a second ago and now I'm just cute?" A glint of confidence shown in his eye as he made you gulp, "Is that all you think of me, y/n?" Your own name coming from his mouth sent a shiver down your spine and a beat to your core.

You were in a trance while being eyed by the man with a vastly different energy than he had just moments ago. You shook your head lightly, "I think you're beautiful." He cocked a brow and you scrambled for more words, "I had a huge crush on you from the moment I gave you half of my cookie." You breathed before even thinking, snapping you back to reality as you watched his eyes widen, "Ah, me and my mouth!" You admonished yourself, "I didn't mean to make you uncomf-" You frantically moved to take your hand back only for his grip to tighten, pulling you forward, placing your hand at the nape of his neck while his arm wrapped around your waist.

You gulped at the newfound closeness, bodies nearly pressing against each other as he eyed you sharply, "Do you mean it?" He breathed, "You had a crush on me?" You made a move to slink away, but you he gracefully laid himself down with you on top of him, his thigh mere centimeters from your core and he gave you a mischievous smile, "Don't leave me hanging." He teased.

"I-I mean… yes, but can-"

He cut you off with a sigh and a laugh. You braced yourself for him to laugh at you, and say how weird it would be had you confessed and how weird the idea of you two together would be.

It's a song and dance you've seen many times as a hopeless romantic chubby girl. Of course, now you know you were just too much woman for such little men, emotionally little at the very least, but you would be a liar if you didn't still feel the hurt of humiliation. The last thing you wanted was to look into Jimin's eyes and find the same pitying glint, but you were nothing if not a bit brave, at least sometimes.

You forced your eyes from his chest to his gaze and found… an emotion you've only every seen in the eyes of your housemates, an emotion you don't quite know yet, even if you felt it too. At your curiosity, Jimin beamed at you further, "I'd be really frustrated right now if you weren’t on top of me." He chuckled a bit and explained further before you could ask why, "I have had such a huge crush on you for years now." You balk at this, shaking you head.

"That's not a funny joke, Jiminie." You huffed, "If I were even a bit more gullible, I would seriously believe you and then my feelings would be hurt-" He pulled you flush against him as he captured your mouth in a soft and sweet kiss. He was slow, but focused, in the way his mouth moved against yours.

Inside, though, Jimin was freaking out. What if you didn't actually want to kiss him? Why didn't he ask beforehand? Should he pull away? But your mouth feels so good. Are you kissing him back or is he just that enthusiastic?

You laid his worries to rest when you used the hand at his nape to pull him closer, mouth opening to nibble on his bottom lip. He groaned lightly, pulling you closer as his tongue mingled with your own and he pressed his thigh into the thin material of your leggings. You gasped at this and it was like a fire lit within him as he sat up and shifted you for your legs to be on both sides of him as he pressed his mouth onto yours further.

His fingertips danced along your form in a much different context than you were used to, but fuck, did it feel nice. Where one arm was securely holding your waist, his hand reached beneath your shirt, getting accustomed to the soft skin as he waited for you to nod. You wanted him to touch you further. You didn't understand what all these hot men wanted with you, but right now, it didn't matter one bit. 

Jimin's eyes rolled back when he reached in your sports bra to run his fingers over your hardened nipples. You twitched against him as you gasped, fingers intertwining with his hair roughly, "Shit." He groaned at the sensation.

You both sloppily kissed as he explored your chest with his hands, moaning into each other's mouths at the euphoria of unresolved feelings coming to fruition and the sexual tension finally snapping as you gave him unrestricted access to feel you beneath his fingertips, "Wanted this for so long." He murmurs into your mouth, "So beautiful, fuck." The praises don't stop, and only further spur you wandering hand on as you feel his sculpted stomach.

"Wanna touch you." You whine as your fingers play with the waistband of his sweats and he nods, his own hand travelling down to cup your core, making you squeak, "Fuck, I'm so wet." You realized, half embarrassed and half aroused.

You could feel his amusement as he slipped his hand beneath your tights and panties to make skin to skin contact with your soaked core, and he didn't know how he made it this far, but he just wants to keep going as he feels you soak his hand, "Yeah, baby, you are, just for me." He moans when you follow his lead, hand wrapping around his hardened erection and giving a small squeeze, "Shit!" He gasps as you wiggled your hips against his hand, grinding yourself little by little. 

Your hand massaged the head, smearing the precum as you begin stroking him. You both continue moaning into each other's mouths as his hips jerked and you twitched against his hands, "So fucking wet, baby, so sexy." He growled and he slipped a finger inside of you, him groaning at your pulsating warmth wrapped around his finger, "Slid right in, angel." He praises and you let out a choked gasp and he presses his thumb against your clit.

He drank your moans into his mouth like they were an oasis in the desert, and he’s not sure how he’s lived this long without them. Without you by his side and in his arms. He held you close, refusing to even consider loosening his grip because your body against his was bliss in the highest form. You were his, even if just in this moment, and you would be nobody else’s. Nobody could make him feel the way you do, and he, along with the other men that resided in the building, were determined to hold the same monopoly over your emotions. He refused to entertain the idea of anyone beyond this building making you feel anything close to what he was now as he pushed a second finger in, relishing in the strangled moan you gave as you babbled about feeling full.

With the excitement of his dream girl dripping against his hand and your own hand working expertly on his dick, Jimin could feel himself getting close and you could tell from the breathy whines he gave you as he began thrusting his hips in time with his fingers inside you, "Cum for me, Jiminie." You purred before licking at his tongue and he came beautifully with his eyes screwed shut and mouth open as you swiveled your hips agains his, now two, fingers.

"Baby, so good." He whined as his high settled down. He shifted all focus to you and your impending orgasm as he watched you fuck yourself onto his hand, "Feeling good, darling?" He asked teasingly and you nodded dumbly, lips pressed together as you felt your high approach, "I can feel you clenching around my fingers, fuck, you gonna cum in my hand all pretty?" He cooed and you nodded as he met your thrusts, making you clutch onto him harder.

"Can I cum?" You whimpered and Jimin could almost feel himself get hard again at how willing you were to give him the reigns.

"Because you asked so sweetly, of course my love." He let the name slip before you both could even acknowledge it consciously. However, the closeness and the intimacy of it all sent you over the edge and you bit down on his shoulder in attempt to hide how loud you were. He held you close, not minding one bit at the mark you were surely leaving as he fucked you through your orgasm, "Felt good, angel?" He mused and you tucked your face into his neck as you nodded, holding him close as his finger stilled but kept you full until he felt you relax. 

You both giggled as you met eyes, licking the other person's cum off of your hands, "Thank you Jiminie." You hummed cheerily.

"Thank you, bunny." He chided before giving you a kiss, "We all really, really, like you, you know that right?" He asked and noticed your hesitation.

"Sure, but people can be sexually attracted to me and not want to… be with me." You spoke wistfully, "People can like me and not want to be with me." You let out a humorless laugh, "And few things make me feel as dumb as getting my hopes up for no reason." Although you had a tendency to do it time and time again.

"Don't be scared to assume we want you as much as you, hopefully, want us." He spoke quickly before he planted another kiss on you and the affection made you smile.

"You realize the irony of the statement coming from you, right?" You chuckled as he helped you stand on shaky legs before just carrying you, "I cum once for you and all of sudden you know everything and are all confident." You chided, unsure how to process his words yet, mind hazy from your orgasm.

"What can I say? You opened my third eye." He joked and you rolled your eyes before leaning your head on his shoulder, enjoying his embrace, the idea of your housemates loving you back seeming just slightly less like an outlandish fantasy, "Although, it will wear off and then we'll have to do it all over again." He sighed dramatically and you giggled.

"What a shame." You fake gasped, "I hate engaging in sexual relations with hot guys." You complained sarcastically.

"So you do think I'm hot!" Jimin cheered triumphantly.

You laughed against him and realized the only times you felt so free were with your beloved housemates. You wondered if they felt the same. You also found a more insecure part wondering for how long they would feel that way. How long would it be until a girl, or several, much prettier than you or less needy catches their attention. You wondered if you could take the pain of watching the sincerity drain from their eyes just as you've seen in your mom, your dad, your uncle, your first relationship to your last. You wondered what it was about you that made it so easy to be left behind.

Jimin's phone pinged, ripping you from your melancholic thoughts. He sighed, pulling it out and you fought the urge to see if it was another person vying for his romantic attention. He didn't belong to you, even if you wanted him to, "Ah, Namjoon wants to know if you want the demo for the new zombie game he's working on and Jin wants to know if you'd like your first pick of the new stickers he got, and Hoseok wants to try a new hairstyle on you and ah, they all sent me something to ask you…. Gosh, they all think I'm your secretary when we're together." He whined and you held onto him tighter with a light laugh as he went through everyone's inquiries for you.

You also found yourself how you went on this long without them and how you could even consider hesitating if they asked you to stay with them for much longer.

Tip Jar

[anandabrat]

So my dear friend @ride2fly has been locked out of her Tumblr because, possibly, her email is in the system incorrectly, but anyway she has given me the honor of posting her contribution to Bering and Wells Appreciation Week!

This is her very first fic, and was originally written to only me, perhaps in self-defense as I often send her my own mad ravings and scribbles. She says she hopes you all enjoy her silly idea, and that she wrote it for me because I'm her favorite (aww, blush.)

Anyway, without further ado...

Bering and Wells, Gay Pirate edition!

“I mean. Mutiny is the only answer. “

“We can’t keep following this guy. “

“She’s a lady.

“Is she though? Like can you be a lady if you just abandoned your husband and child and just like peaced out to be a pirate?”

Claud says nothing of course, but he does look up from under his broad hat to give Steven Jinks a hard look.

Olu clears his throat, breaking the weird silent tension between his ship mates.

“She pays us though. Like. Really well.”

“Yeah but we haven’t even done anything. We are pirates man. We should be pillaging. When I was on Blackbeards’ crew —“

The collective moan cuts off Black Pete from whatever lie he was about to tell. He blusters but no one wants to hear it.

“We don’t have to do anything. She pays us for nothing. I mean really it’s a sweet gig,” Frenchie squints into the sun while he says this, not fully committing in any way.

“Is it though? Like is it really? It feels to me like we have truly hit bottom. There is no where lower we could sink than working for a woman pretending to be a pirate.” Jinx looks hard at Claud again. And Claud again says nothing since Claud is a mute.

“Steven Jinx my good man! Can you come here for a moment I’m in need of a scribe!”

The crew moans a little, less concerned with nearly being caught talking of mutiny than you would have imagined them to be. Jinx stands up and saunters off as well as you can on a boat. Everyone watches him leave because why wouldn’t you.

“He makes some good points,” Wee John starts. “Sailing with a woman is bad luck. “

“Unless that woman is Blackbeard,” Black Pete starts but everyone starts shouting at once about how Blackbeard doesn’t count since she made a deal with the Devil, since she is ghost, she’s not a real woman she’s a siren, she’s both male and female, and loudest of all is Artie shouting that Black Pete never sailed with Blackbeard anyways so what would he know.

Black Pete rubs a hand over his bald head. His cleft palette gives him a slight lisp but no one says shit about it because they are pirates not bullies.

“You can bet Blackbeard is not paying her crew for not pillaging that’s all I’m saying. Captain’s gotta go. “

~*~

Steve opens the door to the captain’s rooms. They are resplendent. The walls are shelved and the shelves are full of books. Beautiful, leather bound books. The kind of books no one should have on a ship, and the kind of books one should certainly not lend out to the crew if they want some “light reading”. Steve is pretty certain he is the only member of the crew who can read. If Captain knew that she would probably start lessons. Then there would be mutiny for sure.

“Ah Steve, there you are. Thank you for your promptness,” the Captain is seated at her desk, maps spread all over it. She takes off a pair of reading glass, folds them with a snap, sets them inside their case but doesn’t shut it. She pushes her chair and stands up, smoothing her hands over the peacock blue silk of her mantua, fluffing her sleeves ever so slightly. Her costume is a much slimmed down version of what she used to wear daily — she has a hooped petticoat or two with her of course but she doesn’t wear one on the ship. Her dark hair is up off of her neck in an attractive twist, pearl drops hang from her ears and a locket is around her neck.

Helena Wells left her husband six months ago. Society believes she was killed in a tragic accident while riding side saddle in the woods on the land her family stole from the Spanish, who stole it from the Kalinigo people. In fact she did not die but was spirited away and deposited on her ship, the Revenge.

Christopher had just turned 15 the previous winter. Helena and Martin commissioned the ship with the intent that Helena and Christopher would sail together when it was finished. Mother and son were both enthusiastic about being out on the ocean, but Martin had no stomach for sailing or desire to explore outside of his set of rooms.

Helena hoped she would have the ship finished and crewed quickly enough to get the heck out of Barbados before the Royal Navy got wind of her sweet boy who possessed a fierce talent for navigation as well as a knack for languages. The Royal Navy had been stealing — impressment they called it — young men in Barbados with a knack for sailing. They claimed to not take anyone younger than 18, but they were known to take boys as young as 14.

She was too late, a mistake she would not be making again.

“Did you have a task for me, Captain?” Please let there be a letter to write or more clouds to draw. Steve sends a silent prayer to the heavens. Please don’t ask about crew morale.

“How is the crew? Everyone adjusting well enough?”

Steve takes a breath, hesitating for less than a beat before replying, “Artie keeps licking the air.”

“I’m beginning to suspect he is a witch,” Captain Wells her tone bright and bemused. “I’ve never observed anyone else uses all their senses to navigate — and his accuracy is supernatural. A witch for certain. Splendid.”

“Have you known many navigators?” Steve probes. All he knows — all anyone knows — is that Helena Wells was born a wealthy lady and appears to have lost her freaking mind to become a pirate queen. Only she doesn’t seems to be crazy at all — in fact she is possibly the smartest person Steve has spent any length of time with. Her knowledge of sailing, navigation, astronomy, and modern medicine is almost as unbelievable as Artie being able to sense weather changes with his oral faculties.

Her motives for abandoning her family and taking to the sea are the source of much speculation among the crew.

“Probably she was just bored,” is always Olu’s response when the other ask him what he thinks drove the lady over the edge and into the sea. Claud says nothing of course, but his shoulders tend to get stiff and then he finds something to do elsewhere.

“I bet she was slowly poisoning her husband and he got wise to her and she bugged out before he could kill her a proper way. With a knife. In the heart.” Black Pete’s imagination is not boundless and his stories usually include stabbing of some sort.

“Poisoning is a woman’s way,” Frenchie agrees. “But I don’t think you could catch her if she put her mind to it. Probably she was having an affair and was supposed to meet him here on the ship and he never showed. She’s got that lost love look to her. Always rubbing that locket.”

This sets everyone back on their heels a bit and then they start trying to guess to themselves which if any of them could be the Captain’s secret lover. Which then makes everyone rather jumpy over the next few days.

Artie is the only one who knows more than he is saying. Mostly because he knows more about pretty much everything and everyone else talks too much. Except for Claud.

~*~

Meanwhile… across the ocean a ways, aboard a vessel feared by all, a woman dressed in black, aches for a way out of her dull, predicable life.

~*~

Artie knocks on Captain’s door. He has another missive that just arrived via his best friend, familiar, and Seagull, Karl. Helena and Christopher have been communicating by secret feathered post

for a few months now. Christopher is currently safe at a British outpost nearby where they send the young men born of high society to fast track them to being officers. While not high born, Christopher’s captain quickly realized that he would be wasted serving on a ship as cannon fodder. Helena taught him languages, navigation, and basic cartography skills. She is thankful that these skills have kept her boy off of a warship, but her plans to rescue him have grown tangled. She has finally come to the conclusion that she has to sit and wait for an opportunity. And also probably learn some piracy so that she can keep her crew alive.

“It’s best that we put into harbor for a few days. Republic of Pirates is nearby,” Artie informs her. “We need to make a wee bit of racket there. Just a very wee bit — just enough that no one takes it in there head to pick us off and steal the ship.”

“Excellent plan. I’m sure the crew could do with some shore leave as well. Plot the course and make it so, number one!” Helena is positively jovial after a message from Christopher. They write short messages in a secret code that pretty much add up to “I’m fine I love you,” but that’s enough.

~*~

The Republic of Pirates does not smell like Helena thought it would. She was imagining it to be more of a rum and body oder situation. Instead it smells like fermenting peppers, spicy and bitter. She is completely second guessing her outfit choice but there is nothing she can do about it now, so she throws her shoulders back and holds her head high. She’s wearing a dress of the finest silk, pale pink in color, with a black lace stomacher. She did not dawn her wig which she is very grateful for right now, her hair is low on her neck, curls falling across her shoulders.

The crew makes their way through the streets, stopping and chatting to people they know. All the pirates know each other, it seems. There is some chatter about going in a bar and before she knows it, Helena is stooping and squinting in the dark of Mrs. F’s Bar.

It is a greasy grimy place. The vinegar smell is now overpowering. Helena stands in the doorway, flanked on either side by Steve and Artie. Claud and Olu have disappeared into the darkest corner of the bar. Claud is somehow hiding even more of his face with his hat, which seemed impossible but maybe he made the brim bigger.

Helena clears her throat and walks into the dark room to the bar at the center rear. There are large jars with various flotsam floating in them. She goes about her business, ordering a nasty drink that nearly gives Steve a coronary, making a big show of being the new bossy lady in town. She does a fair job — took some theater in her youth — and for the most part, she is believed.

But. Deep in the darkest corner of the bar, a man sits. He swirls his drink in his glass and drinks the whole thing in one gulp. He reaches for his leather gloves and pulls them on, flexing his fingers. He’s seen what he came to see, and now it is time to report back to the boss.

Artie gives Helena a signal, letting her know that he thinks she has accomplished their mission. She misses the signal though because the witch is always playing with his nose so finally he has to cough and harrumph loudly to get her attention. They exit the bar, confident that they have avoided future confrontations with their fellow pirates for the time being.

Less confident about avoiding food poisoning.

~*~

“She’s hiding something.” The man from the bar had entered the hold of a ship. It is dark and musty smelling. He stands in the doorway. A figure is curled up in the round window at the stern of the room. When Pete Lattimer speaks, she unfurls herself like a lion and shakes out her mane before wrapping a dirty bandana around her forehead.

“Everyone is hiding something — that means literally nothing,” she replies with her back to him. Pete rolls his eyes. Takes a deep breath before replying:

“Okay, fair. She’s hiding a big something but she’s… She’s like… you ever play that game? With the little wooden pieces on the board?”

“Chess.” She shakes out a shirt that was once white and sniffs it.

“No… "

“Checkers.” She throws the shirt back on the floor.

“No it’s got the funny name. “

“Backgammon.” She continues to rummage, looking for something cleaner to wear but she is only fooling herself. The black leather pants and the tightly laced vest she wears will most likely dress her corpse.

“No. Fuck. Nine Men’s Morris. That’s the one. She’s got the game memorized. She plays from memory but like… she’s got no improv.”

“And she thinks she is already endgame.” She loops a belt around her waist and tucks a pistol into a holster.

“Exactly.”

“Dangerous?” She unsheathes her blade and sees her face reflected there, hollow and glassy eyed. She replaces the blade with a snap.

Pete snorts. He is picturing Helena in her fine pink silk, playing pirate.

“The Lady Pirate? Unlikely. But.”

Myka Bering finally turns and faces him. Pete Lattimer is a thief, a murderer, a teetotaler, and a brother.

“You’ve got a vibe.”

“There is something wrong here. With her.”

“Excellent.” Myka grins wickedly and follows Pete out the door into the bitter air.

~*~

The crew sees the dingy leave the large ship off the starboard bow. Three figures dressed in black.

“What do you suppose they’re up to?” Frenchie muses out loud after his turn with the spyglass.

“Could be anything,” Black Pete murmurs.

“Anything? Really?” Olu scoffs. “I’m pretty sure it’s just one thing. They’re coming over here to negotiate a surrender.”

“Shut up!“ Artie barks. He only yells when he is scared. “Someone go wake the Captain.”

Frenchie draws the short straw. He opens the door to the captain’s quarters. The shades are drawn over the large windows. Helena has been very, very sick since drinking God knows what at Mrs. F’s bar. Steve was not ill because he had the good sense to spit. However he has been pretending to be sick and is currently holed up in Claud and Oluwande’s room after seeing something he wasn’t supposed to (namely Claud’s boobs. Which they have because they were assigned female at birth. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of the crew figures it out but for this moment, Steve’s lips are sealed.)

“Captain,” Frenchie calls into the dark. “We’ve got a situation. There’s a dingy headed right for us. And the ship she hails from. She’s big captain. And mean. The colors she’s flying… it’s Blackbeard. We’re certain.”

Helena is pretty sure she is gonna die here, on this boat, of dysentery. She read about treating such sickness with water laced with salt slowly and consistently. Roach recommended a banana so Helena somehow got that down as well. Still. She was pretty sure she might never leave this bed.

But. She is the Captain. And the Captain must be present when someone is boarding her boat. Especially if that someone is Blackbeard. So Helena girds her loins and throws on robe, cinches it tight, and makes it all the way to the doorway before she passes out.

French calls for help and Olu helps him get Helena back into bed.

“Well. Been nice knowing you.”

“Same.”

~*~

They do not get murdered by the pirates (the other pirates) at this time. Instead everyone of them is so completely starstruck, they’ve completely forgotten that just moments ago they were pretty sure they were about to be murdered.

“Why do they call her Blackbeard though?” Steve asks his shipmates. They are all sitting together, still a little unsure if they are about to be murdered, but mostly just having the time of their lives. “ She’s not Black and she doesn’t have a beard nor is she a beard… I don’t get that vibe off Pete.”

Pete Lattimer has hushed bent together with another pirate. He growls at the prisoners to shut up but he is ignored.

“Well I'm Black Pete and I’m not Black either.”

“Yeah I also don’t get that,” Steve smirks.

“A story for another time. Blackbeard is called Blackbeard because all anyone could see when she was murdering them was that gorgeous hair blowing around all sexy it just looked like a beard. Flowing. In the wind.”

“That can’t be it,” Wee John protests.

Frenchie agrees, “yeah that doesn’t sound right at all. Where did she even go? She moves like a ghost?”

“I think she’s in with the captain,” Steve is pretty she he should also be in there recording everything but alas.

“Captain is gonna get a shock when she wakes up to find fucking Blackbeard standing over her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she drops dead,” Black Pete had more to say but once again the crew is throwing shit at him telling him to shut up.

~*~

Myka isn’t sure what she was expecting to feel when she saw Helena, but she knows that she isn’t feeling it. She thought… all she knows she feels like crying. Like you do when you’re a child and you’ve skinned your knee and you don’t cry until your mother scoops you up. You don’t cry until you feel safe.

She sits beside Helena for a little over an hour. Watching her sleep, and then looking around the ridiculous room. She runs her hands over the leather-bound spines of the books but she doesn’t pull any of them out to turn the pages. her hands are too dirty for that.

Finally Helena stirs. Myka reaches out for her hands to soothe her, to make sure she’s not afraid when she wakes up, and then pulls back at the last second. Helena opens her eyes.

“It’s you,” she says.

Myka, for just a beat, wonders if she herself is dreaming and that this is what Prince Charming must feel. She feels an unfamiliar smile start to break her face apart and she smothers it.

“You’re fevered,” she finally croaks.

“Do you work for Blackbeard?”

Myka nearly laughs but then she furrows her brow.

“Yeah, I guess I do. Hadn’t really thought of it that way.” Somehow this wasn’t the conversation she thought they would be having. She tried to imagine this part so many times and it can go so many different ways.

“I’m Helena. Helena Wells. I’m more than a little embarrassed about the state I’m in.” Helena sits up with Myka’s help and mops her brow with a white handkerchief.

Uncertain of what to do next, a most unusual feeling for her, makes Myka chokes a little as she returns the handshake and says “I’m Myka Bering.” Helena doesn’t react to her name, and a dagger is plunged into Myka’s breast.

“Yes, well. I seem to have recovered to enough to go down with the ship. Does Blackbeard only employ women? I’ve heard she is remarkable. Read mostly.”

Myka hesitates for a moment. Part of her knows she should end this game and put her Blackbeard pants back on. But the other part. The part that has been bored fucking silly. The part that she left behind when she left home as a teenager, to find her fortune and maybe some fame, to return home triumphant. The part that longs for a happy ending for herself however unlikely that might be. That part of her wins because she wants to be with Helena a moment longer. Life is pain and sometimes the pain reminds us we are alive.

“You’ll meet her soon enough. She does employ a lot of women but men, too. Whoever can stomach the work really.” Myka stands up and lifts her arms over head, shaking herself out like a rumpled blanket. “You have so many books. It’s just...”

“Amazing isn’t it?” Helena reaches for her robe and drapes it around herself, belting it with its gold sash. The robe is deep scarlet and makes the fevered flush of her cheeks more pronounced.

“Yeah sure but also. Boat. Water. Books. Not the most practical plan but then you….” Myka looks at Helena and then looks away again, pretending to be peering at titles. “You must be a great reader.”

“I love books. Windows into other times and places… so many different lives to live. Nothing is better than a good mystery, a romance.”

“You’re a romantic? And you became a pirate? Did you read the job description?”

Helena grins and walks over to the bookcase on the closest wall. “A job is what you make of it and life deserves some romantic adventure!” She reaches for a book but when she pulls it out, a secret door to her left opens inward. She turns to Myka, triumphant.

Myka laughs. Full on from the belly laughter. “You have to be fucking kidding me. Are you insane?”

“Life’s a story right? If I get to write my own there will surely be secret passages,” Helena replies laughing along with Myka, her fever forgotten. What a sound! She would do anything to make this person laugh like that again. “You wanna see inside?”

Myka breathes out in a big slow breath. “Hell yes,” she hears herself answer. Myka’s heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high. She felt as though she and Helena were standing atop the walls having flown there from a great distance. She was pretty sure they were about to fall. Was it the walls crumbling, or were they being pushed?

*~*

“You’re a witch,” the pirate who called herself Myka Bering says after looking around for a moment.

“No. Artie is the witch. I’m an alchemist. I like knowing how things work and why and I study the stars. I also dabble — dabble mind you — in medicine. This is my equipment. My laboratory.” Helena has not shown another soul this room. She is not embarrassed, rather she is so proud that she doesn’t want anyone else to shatter her joy. Why she is trusting this Myka person with this secret… she blames the fever. Who is this woman? She’s like flying too close to the sun.

“Wow. A Lady Pirate, a secret lab. You are full of surprises,” Myka grins at her and raises one eyebrow. Helena fells flushed and again tells herself it is the fever. Myka smirks as though she has read her mind. The moment is spoiled when they hear a noise from the other room.

Another pirate has entered the room and calls for Myka. She is dark skinned and has long curly dark hair. She also wears leather from head to toe and has a long wicked looking blade at her hip.

Helena peers at her through the secret peep hole (naturally) and whispers to Myka. “Is that Blackbeard?”

“No. That’s Leena. I’m Blackbeard.”

Helena turns her back on the peep hole and stares open mouthed at Myka. Myka cannot help it — she feels wicked from head to toe — and she winks at Helena. This and the fever that still grips Helena causes her to sway slightly and Myka is instantly by her side, her arm around Helena’s back, her rough hands taking Helena’s.

“I swear I’m not going to faint on you. My pride could not bare it,” she whispers.

“I promise not to tell if you do,” Myka whispers back.

Leena has given up on finding Blackbeard by now and the coast is clear. Myka leaves her arm around Helena, holds open the passage door, and helps her to the large sofa. Myka paces around, inebriated and agitated, finally coming to stand at Helena’s desk.

“Is this supposed to be me?”Myka squints incredulously at the pen and ink illustration in the tome Helena has open, resting on all of her maps. The imfamous Blackbeard the caption reads. The drawing has Myka standing on the bow of a burning ship, a saber in her hand, her hair blowing out and across her face. Her skirts are tattered and blowing open, revealing her legs to the knees. She is barefoot, bareheaded, and well… very very little of her breasts are not showing. The illustrator has pictured Myka about three times as well endowed as she is and her ample bosum is spilling from her stays.

“This is ridiculous. Who could fight in that? Barefoot have they ever been in a battle? There is shit and blood everywhere you don’t wanna step in that in your barefeet. And my boobs. What is going on — am I a wet nurse on the weekends? Holy hell.”

Helena laughs, a throatier laugh than Myka was expecting. She would rather like to hear that laugh again.

“Your actual costume is something I fear no man could conjure up from imagination. I don’t think I’ve ever seen full leather breeches on anyone, man or woman. And your vest…”

“So it is actually quite practical. Leather protects you from most glancing blows. Even a sharp sword has a little trouble.”

TO BE CONTINUED

[keigelsss]

Hard At Work - Kuroo Tetsuro

a/n: HERE IT IS!!!!! it’s really bad. i struggled. i just wanted to get it over with but this idea weighed heavily on my mind for so long and i cant seem to get it out the way i want so this is the bare minimum with what i was trying to go for sorry :/

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, timeskip!kuroo, dom!kuroo, language, teasing, literally half the fic is foreplay oops, smut, oral sex, unprotected sex (no glove no love y’all), kuroo smacks your ass once, sir kink?, SIZE KINK, belly bulge, overstim, squirting, creampie, as always my shitty writing. *thoughts in italics… if i forgot a warning pls lmk*

Summary: you never thought you’d find yourself in this situation, let alone with the man in charge of your paycheck. luckily those files weren’t that important.

word count: 4.7K

You’ve only been working in this position for about two months now, assistant to one of the smartest sports promoters in the country. It’s a wonderful job and you get to meet star athletes almost every day, but what wasn't in the job description was the super hot promoter that you would be working under literally. If you thought it was hard coming into work with someone so damn attractive, the amount of teasing that went on in and outside of the office was insufferable.

Your day began like every other; come in, bring Kuroo some coffee, a full list of the day's meetings and tidy up in his office. While setting the coffee on his desk, you anticipate what comment he’ll make about the lack of a baked good to accompany his beverage.

“Awe Y/n, looks like you forgot to bring something to munch on again,” he was currently going through emails while twirling a pen in his hand. That scheming smirk that you’ve come to recognize all too well plastered all over his smug face. 

“I’m sorry, Kuroo, they were all out at the café.” You placed your belongings on the small desk located in the corner of his office, spending some time to go over today's schedule as well as sort through a few contracts and client files.

“It’s all good,” he let out a soft chuckle. “You could always let me eat you instead, shortcake.”

You gave a pointed glare to the man before sighing and closing the file cabinet you just finished sorting. “I think it’s best if we get to work, we’ve got a long day ahead of us, sir.” he sends the smallest smirk in your direction then returns to his tasks. Shit... Did I mean to make it come out like that? Whatever he always teases the ever-living hell out of me so it's about time I had my share of the fun too, it’s only fair. Right?

Most of the day was uneventful, the typical routine coming and going without any interruptions. At around 4 pm though, you found yourself swamped with far more paperwork to go through than usual as well as having to scan and digitally file. We didn't have this many meetings today, did we? I just did a stack like this… Most of these need Kuroo’s signature, they shouldn't be on my desk.

Raising your head you shifted your gaze, letting your eyes land on him. He’s seated only ten feet in front of you behind his desk but today it seems like an entire mile. Did he always look that good going through his messages?

While gathering the papers that were wrongfully in your pile and saying a quick prayer to anyone out there, you walked over to sit in one of the matching seats opposite him. Placing the folder down softly to not mess up the flow of his work. He instinctively moves his elbow away to make room for the file and side-eyes it momentarily.

“Just give me two minutes here and I’m all yours sugar,” he says with a quick smile in your direction.

Humming your response and relaxing into the chair you take the time to admire his features. The messy but somehow put together hair that, according to his long-term clients and friends, has been that way since childhood. The sharp features of his cheeks and jaw, his pink lips permanently resting in his signature smirk that can mean an infinite number of things as you’ve come to find out. A muscular neck that is far too appealing for your taste, broad shoulders leading to strong arms, and an equally muscular chest. It’s no doubt that he is built like a god under that dress shirt, it fits him so perfectly it's almost offensive.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts of the man in front of you that you don't even notice how he moves his body, giving all his attention to you.

“Stare any longer sweet girl and you're gonna start drooling all over that cute outfit of yours.” His deep chuckle vibrates through you, definitely causing something to happen deep in the pit of your stomach. Your body was so hot and your throat was so damn dry from the way he was looking back at you. Is he undressing me with his eyes? Fuck! I’m one to talk, I’m doing the same thing.

“Uh it looks like some papers of yours got in my pile, if you can sign them, I’ll finish scanning and get out of your hair.” 

You sat up to hand him a pen then rest your palms against the desk. Those pieces of paper are the only thing separating the two of you and it helps you keep a grasp on reality for the time being.

He toyed with the edges of the folder, lifting just the corner, not even bothering to read over the contents. “Yeah, I put them there thinking it would keep you in the office just a bit longer but you caught on to my plan faster than I thought.” He met your gaze with a semi defeated smile.

“You thought I wouldn't notice at all? Kuroo, I thought you were supposed to be the mega genius here because I had just filed all of those this morning.” A sudden boost of confidence ran through your body and your hands found their way to the folder and started mimicking his previous action that, hopefully, would drive him just as crazy as it did you. Your cold fingers delicately traced above his watch then to his forearms, stopping right where he cuffed his sleeves. A small hiss escaped him through his teeth followed by an airy laugh.

“Call it an experiment.” You couldn't help but giggle at his response.

He suddenly moved back, completely reclining and relaxing in his chair. He went to loosen up the tie around his neck and even went as far as to open two buttons on the restricting shirt. Cheeky bastard.

Kuroo cleared his throat. Resting his elbow against the arm of his chair, chin resting in the palm of his hand. “I bet I can tell what you're thinking right now, shortcake,” he continued to roll his chair back slightly.

Without giving a second thought you moved around to his side of the desk, sitting and leaning on the end farthest from him. You conjured up the best comeback your normally shy and reserved self would never think of, but right now, it's war.

“Oya oya? Tell me, boss, what am I thinking right now?” you finally turned your gaze towards him, pulling off the most convincing innocent eyes you had.

He stood up from his seat, taking the slowest steps toward you and stood right beside your small body. His large hands are dangerously close to the edge of your skirt. If he could feel how hard your heart was beating in your chest you’d be done for. 

That contagious laughter of his booming throughout the room once more. He’ll never admit it but your teasing words sound a lot like him.

“Well if the way you're clenching the hell out of your thighs right now isn't the biggest sign.” His calloused fingers finally make contact with the exposed skin on your legs and slowly rise to trace the curves of your body. Finding a place to rest on your jaw with his thumb gripping your chin forcing you to look directly at him. “I’d say you're thinking of all the different ways I could make you cum on my desk,” his thumb began to slowly trace your lower lip.

You were barely aware of the small moan you let out while fluttering your eyes closed. “Let's say you're right Kuroo,” you nearly choked on the lack of saliva in your throat. “What else am I thinking?” your response barely above a pathetic whimper.

He let out a happy sigh as he placed his thumb between your lips, pressing slightly to signal you to open up. That sigh quickly turned into a small moan when you let your tongue slip from your mouth and wrapped your lips around the digit. Years of hard work and skill evident in the sensation of his thumb pressing against your tongue.

“You’re probably thinking about my cock filling every inch of your tight little pussy,” he moved to stand between your legs, his other hand finding residence on your hip and squeezing the clothed flesh possessively. “Or maybe you’re thinking you might just have the upper hand here because you caught on to my little trick,” he began to mess with the hook and zipper on the side of your skirt. Lowering the piece of flimsy metal agonizingly slow. 

“If that’s the case then you're seriously mistaken sweetheart also when it's just us, call me Tetsuro,” he whispered his name in your ear and if you weren't trying to match his teasing energy, you would’ve made the first move but the build-up was so much better.

He finally let go of the zipper on your skirt and began to pull it slowly down your thighs, all while maintaining eye contact. He slowly removed his finger from your mouth and trailed any lingering saliva along your bottom lip and down your jaw before his hand found comfort around your neck, offering the softest squeeze, eliciting yet another breathy moan from your lips. If only you knew how much those sounds of yours were causing him to short circuit.

“Tetsuro. If there’s anything I know very well, it's my place in this office.” You kept steady eye contact while attempting to squeeze your thighs together. 

Kuroo noticed your struggles and continued to strip the skirt from your body. Your lower half was beginning to burn with anticipation. His long fingers then traced the outline of your panties, if he looked any closer he would see the little wet spot forming right at your entrance. He lightly pulled on the thin material and snapped it back against your body, a small chuckle rising from deep in his chest because of how cute and responsive you are to his actions.

“And where is that exactly?” He can't help but tease you, even though his cock is absolutely suffocating, he still wants to make sure you know who’s in charge. 

“I'm an employee on your payroll, aren't I?” your voice was so soft, focusing more on steadying your breathing. He began to run the back of his hand along your hip and grazed his knuckles against the area that you ache for him the most, a throaty sigh escapes you and some of that newfound confidence as well. Where the hell did she come from?

“It only makes sense that my position is under you.” Kuroo is slightly surprised by your response but he can tell that you’ve had enough of his teasing just like he’s had enough of having to come up with new ways to fluster you. Now it seems that all his prayers are being answered, he finally has you to himself all alone in the office, and there’s only one thing on his mind after hearing the words slip from your lips. “That’s definitely the right answer, but I hope you don’t mind if I spend some time on you first?”

His fingers were now pulling the fabric of your panties down and off your body, he never breaks eye contact, rubbing his hands all over your legs and occasionally squeezing your soft skin. He finally returned to eye level and placed both hands on your cheeks, bringing you in for a hot and desperate kiss. He managed to push you further onto the desk so you can rest comfortably, the cold sensation of the wood on your bare skin forced a tiny gasp to escape. 

Kuroo began to play with the buttons of your blouse, pulling on the material. By the time he gets to the last button, you’re halfway done removing his, finally seeing the strong body underneath it all. Hot. Once he had you completely undressed he took a single step back. Biting his lip and admiring your body.

“You’re so god damn sexy.” He came back to you, hot mouth leaving kisses all over your neck and chest. He spent some time on each of your breasts, sucking and biting on your sensitive nipples, sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. His hands hooked under your knees and spread your legs. You're practically dripping onto his desk by now and can’t help but grind your hips against nothing, desperate for some sort of relief. 

“Someone's a little needy, huh?” his breath was hot against your stomach and fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. Once he got on his knees in front of you, his fingers found their way to your throbbing center. Slowly parting your folds and massaging your sensitive hole with perfect pressure. “Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ wet too,” with his other hand he used his thumb to play with your clit. You threw your head back, letting out a soft moan as you made contact with the desk below.

Kuroo wasted no time putting your legs over his shoulders, leaving wet kisses along your thighs and placing several on your hips. He finally placed a kiss on your clit, causing you to yelp and buck your hips against his face. “You taste better than I imagined baby girl,” he licked a stripe through your folds, then sucked on your clit softly. “Mmm it feels so good!” you’re a moaning, whimpering mess already. Kuroo has to use his hands to keep you still but he’s humming happily while lapping up all you have to offer him and you can't help but shake. “Am I making you feel good, pretty girl? Your cute little pussy is so sensitive huh?” his tongue was replaced with one of his fingers gathering up your slick and slowly entering you.

“Yes yes fuck I love it. I want your cock. Please.” you looked at him through lidded eyes sucking your bottom lip harshly in between your teeth. He can't help but smile at how cute you look begging for him. “Relax baby girl, we’ll both get what we want but I gotta work you up a bit more.” He added another finger curling them a little to find your sweet spot, while sucking on your clit. He knew he found it when you squeezed your thighs around him and called out his name. Your walls twitching around his fingers, reaching your first climax of the day. 

He pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, sucking off every bit of your juices, moaning in sheer delight. Another kiss was placed on your clit before he began a trail of them to your neck and jaw, teeth sinking into your skin. One of his hands caressed your cheek as he kissed you on the lips, your taste and his hot breath sending another wave of arousal through you and you moan into his mouth. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. “Wanna make you cum with my tongue one more time okay sweetheart?”

You wanted to whine and throw a fit but his mouth was magical and you weren't one to complain. With a small ‘okay’ and another kiss on the lips he made his way to your pussy once more, already swollen and ridiculously sensitive. He began with the same rhythm as before, soft groans of satisfaction driving you wild. The grinding of your hips against his face only became more violent when he added his long fingers. Finding that same spot as earlier. 

“F-fuck oh fuck I’m gonna cum!” you arched your back off the desk and brought a hand to your chest massaging squeezing your nipples. The only thing you hear before your orgasm rips through you is the loud squelching of fingers inside your pussy and his moans of praise. When you open your eyes and finally come back to earth, you see Kuroos face, hand and wrist covered in your juices. “I haven't even fucked you yet and you squirted just like that? You're gonna be the death of me Y/n.” 

You giggled a little, hiding your face in embarrassment, body still trembling from the intense orgasm. Of course that smart mouth of his is sinfully skilled. He moved your hands out of the way, intertwining his with yours, lifting you and pulling you into another kiss. 

You let go of his hands running yours along his toned chest, leaving small scratches, quickly removing his belt and slacks. You squeal at how big he looks in his boxers, his cock begging to be free. Pulling the waistband down and letting it drop to his feet, you moan at the sight. A small bead of precum forming at the tip, now an angry red from being neglected for so long. “I wanna make you feel good too Tetsu.” 

Before you can drop to your knees for him he puts his hands on your hips, rubbing soothing circles. “Next time gorgeous, I wanna feel you right now.” he lifted you off the ground, legs wrapping around his waist and lips meeting in a sloppy mess of teeth and tongue. One of his hands made their way to your ass, squeezing softly before landing a smack. You moaned in response and ground your hips against his throbbing member, the tip creating glorious friction against your folds. He finally placed you back on the desk then fisted his cock a few times, running the tip against your folds and teasing your entrance.

“Want you inside me now Tetsuro. Please.” your chest was heaving in desperation and he loved that he made you like this. “Okay sweet girl. If it’s too much let me know.” You gave him a small nod and he kissed you while letting himself slip inside your warm walls. You were already so wet from before but he was so long and thick that the intrusion was slightly painful. 

“Holy shit! you’re so damn tight.” he says through gritted teeth. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tugging softly on his hair when you feel him bottom out inside you. He lets out a few puffs of air because it's taking all his willpower not to cum with the way your pussy is gripping onto him right now. You let out a few whimpers and he checks your face for any signs of discomfort before retracting his hips and thrusting into you. You make eye contact with him, he’s absolutely mesmerizing with that lusty look in his eye and a small layer of sweat on his forehead. 

“S-so big Tetsu. It feels so good.” you squeeze your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer to you and he groans in response. He begins to thrust into you slowly, still trying to keep his cool but finding that sweet spot inside you every time. “Oh you're gonna make me cum with the way you are clampin’ down on my cock like that sweet thing.” he shifts the angle of his thrusts and cages your head between his arms. His large upper body casting a shadow over you that makes you shiver. You can see the way the muscles on his forearms and biceps are flexing with every thrust. How he’s looking down at where you two are connected in pure fascination, tugging his lip between his teeth.

Using his arms to push off the desk, he tugs your hips to the edge and keeps his fingers embedded in the soft flesh, meeting each of his thrusts. You lift yourself as well, resting on your elbows and watching him. You notice a small bump on your belly each time his hips meet yours and it's enough to have you roll your eyes back. Holy fuck now that’s different. Kuroo noticed your surprise and pressed a hand against your tummy, making you feel him even deeper if possible. 

��I’m right there baby girl. Can you feel it?” You feel as though you're being split open but it hurts so good. His stare and dominating aura so sinful and addictive, you know you're in trouble. “Yes it feels so good. I love your cock.” He feels you fluttering around him and picks up his pace. The sharp sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the office along with his animalistic growls. 

“Is that right. You gonna cum on this cock, like a good girl?” his thumb found your clit, working small circles. “Make a mess all over my desk? Let me cum inside this tight pussy?” his thrusts were reaching deep, that bulge in your tummy only looking bigger now. You tried meeting his thrusts halfway, your hand gripped his wrist and you neared another orgasm. “Y-yeah, oh fuck. please. I wanna cum so bad. wanna make you feel good too, sir.” 

At the last word you said he thrusted into you once more. your walls fluttering around him bringing his release as well, he hunched over with a groan and found your lips as he spilled his seed inside you. The warmth filling you up and making you feel nothing but bliss. Your ankles locked around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, keeping him buried inside you while you caught your breath’s. 

He pulled away first, watching as his cock slipped from your tight hole, both of you letting out a sharp breath from the sensitivity. His cum followed right after, dripping down onto his desk. The sight of your clenching pussy and the mess was enough to get him hard again. He wants as much as you’re willing to give him. Lifting your upper body he pulls you in for another kiss, this one a bit sweeter. 

You pulled away and began kissing his jaw. “I want more.” You said looking up at him with bright eyes. Your makeup is messy but you still look delicious as ever. 

He gave you a playful grin and a peck on the lips. “You read my mind gorgeous.” 

He spun you around and bent you over the desk, pressing your body into the wood but not enough to hurt. His fingers slowly ran down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You turn your head slightly so you can see him, right now he looks intimidating as ever. Large muscular body towering over you, one hand gripping your ass and the other teasing the head of his cock along your folds. He can see how your dripping hole is clenching around nothing, your frame trembling from previous orgasms. He's so damn overjoyed that he slips right inside you, not wanting to waste another second outside of your tight pussy. 

The stretch that he provided was nothing you've felt before, he was definitely the biggest you’ve been with. You felt every ridge and vein, every twitch, you still feel him in your stomach. Nothing beat how warm he is though, flooding every nerve with heat and electricity. 

He set a brutal pace, balls slapping against your clit each time, making you cry out and moan incoherent versions of his name. His left hand gripped your thigh and hitched your leg on the desk, the shift in position causing him to drag the tip of his cock perfectly against your g-spot. “Right there Tetsuro, feels so fucking good.” you ached your back in ecstasy. 

The hand he had hooked under your knee creeped up your thigh and rested on your hip. He used the other to raise you off the desk and wrap around you. His warm hard chest pressing into your back and his large, rough palms massaged your tits. You can feel his warm breath on your ear and you shiver when he groans. The deep rumble of his chest crashing into you like a wave. 

Hearing his moans right in your ear was like heaven, the feeling of his cock twitching inside tells you he's close. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum so fuckin’ hard. Your little cunt’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight. You gonna be a good girl and let me cum inside again?” his rough pounding turned into slow, deep strokes. Slamming into your sweet spot with pin-point accuracy.

“Please. Feels so good and I want your cum. Want it in me so bad.” his hand moved to your jaw turning your head, squishing your cheeks and leaving a sloppy kiss against your lips. You brought your arm up, grabbing his face, pulling him closer. You sucked his bottom lip between your teeth and he growled in response, slow thrusts gaining some more speed.

The hand he had on your hip made its way in front of you, fingers trailing softly against your swollen clit. Tears were pricking the corners of your eyes from overstimulation but you loved every second of it. “I want you to milk my cock, take all your filling like a good little shortcake and make a mess on this desk. Can you do that for me?” you only nod and moan your answer.

The intense eye contact between the two of you, mixed with his hard thrusts and rough fingers, make that tingling feeling in your core seem like the first one all over again. Your head falls back against his chest as your body locks up and shakes uncontrollably, the tight fluttering of your walls brought his release as well. 

You can feel his warm load inside as he keeps fucking into you, allowing you both to ride out the intense wave of pleasure. All while massaging your clit, only bringing on another orgasm, making you squirt once more on his hand and desk. Feeling it drip down your legs, surely his too. 

Once the rush of euphoria passed, you both fell forward, his cock still inside you as you both caught your breath. You were still quivering with aftershocks of pleasure when he slipped out of you, a mixture of both of your cum spilling onto the floor and down your thighs. 

He stumbled back onto his chair and took a deep breath. Hypnotized by the way you’re still spread out for him to see, the beautiful sight of your plump ass becoming something he wants all the time. You finally sit up slowly turning to lean against the desk, legs feeling like noodles. Both of you catching the other staring and letting out a fit of laughter. He reached for your hand and pulled you down on the chair with him to relax, wrapping his strong arms around you. 

“So, I was thinking, maybe I should give you a promotion.” he kissed the top of your head and you pinched his nipple teasingly. “Stop fucking around Tetsu.” he smirked and gave you a knowing smirk. 

“We just did, sweet heart.” you rolled your eyes and nuzzled into his neck. 

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

After resting for a while the two of you got cleaned up and dressed, tidying up the office so it didn't look like two people just fucked in it. Once you were done you both stood and looked out the window of his office, watching the sun disappear and the stars start to shine. He made a sound like he just remembered something. 

“Do you wanna go out to get something to eat?” he looks at you while putting his coat on.

“I’d love to, I’m starving,” you grabbed your purse and put on your coat as well. “Oh, uh what time is it?” you ask him. 

He lifted the sleeve of his jacket, looking at his watch and raising a brow. “That’s weird. My watch is stuck at 4:45.” you look at him in confusion. 

A sudden burst of wheezing laughter echoes through the walls and you’re still wondering what’s so funny. He turns to you and looks at your face, melting at how cute and innocent you looked. 

“I think you ruined my watch, Y/n.” he brings a hand up to your face moving a piece of hair that was out of place. You can't help but blush at his words, instantly turning away from him and opening the doors to his office.

“Well we’re even now because you ruined any other man for me.” You walked ahead of him in annoyance but he knows it won't last long.

He’ll have you screaming his name again in his bed in no time. 

I wonder if he was joking about that promotion though…

———————————————————————

✨stay sexy my friends✨

Taglist: @bobabybo

a/n: if you made it this far... yooo... im so sorry you had to read this. it didn’t tickle the brain the way i wanted and i trashed it like ten times only to go back with what i originally started with but if you liked it and you feel a lil sum ;) lmk i would love feedback or what I could’ve done better. i don’t know what I want to do with this blog just yet but for now its just my thirsts and writings. i reply and like on @keigohoes im just stupid lol.

[salemorbit]

Do-Over

[Pro Hero!Katsuki Bakugou x Pro Hero!Reader]

warnings: angst y'all i'm feeling angsty; ends with fluff hehe; it's a LONG one boys!!

~~~~~~~

in which you and bakugou hit a speed bump in your relationship

~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~

You dropped your keys on the table next to your door, slamming it shut with a sigh. You grimaced as you turned awkwardly to strip off your jacket, your shoulder twinging with pain from a minor injury during your recent scuffle.

The apartment was dark, not a soul around to greet you or wait up for you at such an hour. And that was fine, that was how you lived. But deep down inside, at this moment, you felt a pang in your chest that took the shape of a specific blond haired fireball.

Slipping your phone out of your back pocket, you unlocked it and let your thumb glide instinctively to the contact that you talked to the most. You pressed the call button and held the phone to your ear, slipping off your shoes gratefully.

It went to voicemail. Not even his mailbox was set up, just the automated number played in your ear. You let the robotic voice run through its mantra before leaving a message at the tone.

"Hey, it's me. I just got home. I...just wanted to make sure you were okay." You fiddled with your belt. "Call me when you get this."

You clicked end and slid your phone on the counter, leaving it be while you undressed from your work clothes. You cradled your whining shoulder as you slid off your shirt and tossed it aside, mentally making a note to do laundry later.

The past few days at your hero agency had been hard. There were so many hoodlums and villains clogging up your to-do list that you barely had time to call your boyfriend and make sure he was doing all right. It was radio silence from him nearly all week.

But you two had been busy. For some reason, this week was the one time that every baddie wanted to cause chaos. Or at least it felt like it. You slumped down on your dingy couch and stared at the ceiling. Hero work was exhausting, and you didn't even know if it paid off in the long run.

And just a few hours ago you were dealing with a messy explosion of villainy in the middle of your district. It was hard to keep the destruction in check, and you had gotten minorly injured in the process. Your sore shoulder was a scar to boot.

Katsuki had been there, in fact a few of his co-workers had been, too. But he didn't pay you any special attention. You didn't know if that bothered you or not.

Yes, you were both on the job and vowed not to let your relationship get in the way of your hero work as much as possible. On the other hand, you hadn't seen or spoken to Katsuki in a whole week, and the first time you had and he didn't even nod a greeting. What was his issue? It wasn't like you had gotten into an argument or anything.

Shuddering out of thought, you heard your phone buzz once on the counter. You got up and checked it, half expecting it to just be a junk mail message. You were surprised to see that it was a message from Katsuki himself.

I'm home. Goodnight.

You frowned. That was it? You called and left a message, he hadn't spoken to you all week, and all he sent was a three word text?

You didn't know what overcame you, but the frustration inside bubbled up and spilled over in an instant. You turned and activated your quirk out of pure adrenaline, chucking your phone across the room and sending it straight through the apartment wall and soaring into the street below.

That calmed you down quickly. You ran over to your window and threw up the sash, looking down and around for your shattered piece of a phone. But it was gone. You sighed heavily and shut the window, storming into your bedroom and falling into your sheets with a huff.

Now you needed a new phone and, quite possibly, a new boyfriend.

•••

The next day you were off of work, so you took a pain reliever for your shoulder and headed to the nearest phone store to get a new phone. After awkwardly explaining the situation to the clerk, you received a new model and decided to pay a visit to the one man who had gotten you so riled up in the first place.

Katsuki would've been lying if he said he wasn't relieved to see you on the other side of his door that afternoon. He'd had a tiring week, and honestly all he wanted to do was spend time with you and recharge for the most part before doing it all over again.

What he wasn't prepared for, however, was the frown on your face and the angry tapping of your foot as you stood in his doorway.

"You seem unbothered," you said shortly. Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows and let himself get shoved aside as you bustled into his apartment.

"Who pissed in your cornflakes?" Katsuki muttered as he shut the door. You grit your teeth and crossed your arms, obviously unhappy, though Katsuki couldn't figure out why.

"Go look in the mirror and take a guess," you glowered. "What's your issue? Why haven't you returned any of my messages this week?"

"I've been busy, you know that," Katsuki crossed his arms as well, not allowing you to have an intimidation factor in this conversation. "This week was hell."

"It was busy for me, too, but I still made the time."

"What are you going on about, dunceface?"

"Your inability to communicate!" You threw your hands in the air. "I've been trying to check in on you this week, but you haven't responded, if at all. And you didn't call me back last night! Just a text? One? I wanted to make sure you were okay after that fight, and you didn't even humor me."

"So? I'm fine."

"I didn't know that," you stressed. Katsuki let out a breath, still not getting it, and this made you even more angry.

"I don't know where this sudden clinginess is coming from-"

"It's not being clingy!" You erupted. "Are you so dense that you haven't realized how checked-out you've been recently? I've given you multiple opportunities to pick up the slack. I've excused your behaviours, given you space, and respected your silence this entire time. You haven't given me anything to work with. It's called being concerned and trying to keep our relationship going, which you don't seem the least bit interested in doing."

"And what if I'm not?" Katsuki growled, just plain upset you were accusing him of things he wasn't doing, at least in his mind. "What would you do if I didn't want to keep this schtick up, huh?"

"Then I'd be wasting my time standing here," you snapped. "And I'd have wasted the last two years on you."

Katsuki felt something in his chest cry, shattering and splitting through the floor below his feet. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, trying his best not to set his living room on fire.

You were there. You were right there, somewhere you hadn't been for the last week. And yeah, he'll admit that maybe he's been a bit distant lately, and the sudden influx in hero-work definitely wasn't helping the situation either. But he was trying to deal with things he hadn't quite felt before, one of those things being his feelings for you.

As of recent, something had shifted in his gut. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, and it wasn't like he was going to consult Kirishima or Kaminari about this. God knows they'd just make fun of him for worrying about your relationship.

Did he feel ashamed? Was it embarrassing him that he felt like this for someone? Katsuki Bakugou didn't get embarrassed, so what was this?

"I think we're done here," you muttered, looking down to hide the tears welling up in your eyes. You slid around Katsuki to reach the door, but you were stopped by Katsuki grabbing your arm gently.

You jerked your arm from his grasp, turning to look at him with your chin held high, keeping your trembling lip from showing itself. Katsuki had something in his eyes that had never been there before, and you hated it. You hated that you couldn't read him anymore.

"I don't know you like I thought I did, Bakugou." He flinched at that one. "This was obviously a mistake. I'll see you around."

And you were out the door and out of his range, leaving Katsuki Bakugou to stand in his living room at a loss for words. Something he hadn't been ever since he first met you.

•••

You took the breakup terribly, to say the least.

Yes, you were technically the one who broke it off, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt to do it. You didn't want to shut things down like that, but Katsuki had left you no choice. He wasn't getting it, and it felt like he was going to continue to not get it. You just couldn't spend your energy like that anymore.

Mina and Momo were there for you from the second you broke down at a bus stop and called them to pick you up. They were there in a split second, not pressuring you for information until you wanted to tell them.

They were more disappointed in Katsuki than mad. They didn't like how he hadn't been communicating things with you about how he felt or why he had been distant. You broke and told them how it had been going on like this for almost a month now, and this last week was just the tipping point. They backed your decision and got you anything you needed for the next few days, until you were able to be on your own and process the emotions you felt.

Katsuki hadn't tried to call you at all. No texts, emails, voicemails. Your phone was a dry desert, except for the concerned text Midoriya sent you after you assumed Mina and Momo had told him about the debacle. He offered to talk to Katsuki about it, but you declined. It was best to just let it be, let it sink in that Katsuki had messed up royally.

Meanwhile, the man in question was quiet for the next few days. His coworkers noticed his lack of remarks, his friends noticed his distant appearances. All Katuski had been doing since you walked out that door was think. He was thinking long and hard about what he wanted, where you fit into his life, and the way he had acted as of recent. This was quite possibly the most Katsuki had ever thought about anything; typically he was so sure on the get-go that he needn't time to stop and reflect.

But this was different. You were different.

It wasn't until the next Saturday after your breakup that Katsuki found himself on the other side of your apartment door, hand poised to knock. He decided he didn't want to do something like this over the phone; it was just too impersonal. So he mustered up the courage to face you again, and prayed you wouldn't throw him out of your four-story high window in the process.

He knocked, waited. No answer. Getting slightly annoyed, he knocked again, louder. Still no answer.

Katuski was now incredibly annoyed, and bent down to take the key from under your doormat and just unlock the damn thing himself. As he lifted the mat, he saw a slip of paper taped to the floor where the key should've been:

Don't try to break in. Calling the police is not below me.

Katsuki huffed, standing up and going to knock on the door again when he was interrupted by the rustling of paper bags. He turned over his shoulder and saw you standing on the opposite end of the hallway, holding some grocery bags in your arms and staring right at the blond standing on your doormat.

There was a tense few moments of silence before you broke it, audibly frustrated.

"Can you get out of the way so I can put these inside?" You frowned. Katsuki blinked, then moved aside to let you fumble your key in the lock dumbly.

"I can-"

"Shut up," was all you said before opening the door and letting it bang against the inside wall. Katuski stood on the threshold, unsure of if he should just walk in or not, before inviting himself in as soon as he figured you wouldn't give him the time of day. He watched from your counter as you passive aggressively slammed things on the counter or into their place in your kitchen.

"Care telling me why you're here?" You asked, flat-toned and not looking at Katsuki in the slightest.

"I wanted to talk."

"About?"

He rolled his eyes. "Us, dimwit."

You stopped and let your head hang, propping yourself on the counter with your hands spread flat. You still didn't look up at him, which was greatly pissing him off.

"We already did. Last week," you said.

"That wasn't a conversation," Katsuki ground out. "That was you coming to me and exploding out of nowhere. I didn't even have the chance to-"

"It wasn't out of nowhere," you interjected.

"Stop interrupting me, damn it, and just let me talk!" Katsuki spat. You looked up at him with a withered look, making his fire simmer down immediately.

"Fine," you said, voice wavering slightly. Katsuki cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" He smiled slightly, bittersweet. You didn't react, so he went on.

"You're an idiot because you've got terrible tunnel vision," he said, glancing at the living room that looked like you had been sleeping in. You had a perfectly tangible bed in the next room, but there were just too many memories in there for you to spend the night in again.

"I can see fine," you grumbled.

"No, you can't," Katsuki looked back at you. "You haven't been able to see how hard I've been trying these last few weeks to figure things out. Figure us out."

"Well how the hell am I supposed to know that if you don't tell me anything?" You asked, trying to keep your voice from rising. The last thing you needed was a fight. You were just too tired.

"That's...something I need to work on," Katsuki muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "And I will admit that. Don't make fun of me for it."

"I never said I would."

"Great, because I gotta whole lotta other things to admit to." His eyes narrowed. "I don't wanna hear shit from you for the next five minutes, got it?"

You sighed, miming zipping your mouth shut as you went back to putting away your groceries. You might as well let him talk, since you knew his stubbornness wouldn't let him leave your kitchen so soon without him getting in his two cents.

"I've been thinking long and hard lately," he began. "On my own. Nothin' from anyone else except my own thoughts. So this is one hundred percent me.

"I screwed up. I did. And it took me a minute to realize it because I was so much in my head about things. I was so focused on trying not to mess us up that I went and did that shit anyway. And all you've been is supportive and caring, and quite honestly I don't know how to handle that since I haven't really been with anyone like that."

He was being honest, you knew from his tone of voice. It was a tone you had heard only a few times before this moment: when he told you he loved you. And you believed it.

Katsuki took in a breath: "So I'm here. And I'm sorry. At first I was mad at you for marchin' into my house the other day and spewing things I knew nothing about, but then I realized that you were spewing those things because you knew nothing about me and where I was at. And that was frustrating for you because you got that whole communication thing you like to do, or whatever."

"Or whatever," you mumbled to yourself, smiling slightly. He picked up on that, his spirits lifting a bit as well.

"I've just been thinking about things and where you are and who I want you to be to me as we live our lives. And I screwed it up by not talking to you about that either. It's a conversation we both should have. So," he sighed, "I'm sorry. And I'll continue to be sorry because you don't deserve to be left in the dark. I love you, and I want to be better."

He finished his little speech and the two of you were quiet. You had paused putting things away about halfway through, really listening to him and what he had to say. He deserved that from you in the least.

You looked up at him and saw that he had already been staring at you, an intent look in his eyes. It was your turn now. He wanted a response to his being vulnerable. You knew it wasn't easy for him to open up like that, despite the last two years of helping him get comfortable, so you didn't torture him with the suspense.

"We'll see," you said. Katsuki did a double take, eyebrows furrowing.

"We'll see?" He repeated. You nodded rounding your counter to stand in front of him.

"If we want to keep doing this for however many more years we keep doing this," the corner of your mouth lifted in a smirk, "then we'll just have to see."

"Great," Katsuki rolled his eyes and sent a seething glare out the window. "I totally lay myself on the train tracks and you just run me over like that. Thanks."

"But," you continued, trying to catch his eye, "I appreciate you coming to me. And I appreciate the apology. However, I won't know if I can accept it until I know you'll actually go through with it."

"Understandable," Katsuki sighed, comprehending this. "I deserve that one."

"Are you ready for a do-over?" You asked, catching his hands in yours. He couldn't help but notice a weight in his chest lift at the presence of your touch after weeks of barely anything. Katsuki still had some work to do, but it was worth it if he could keep you around.

"Always," he kissed you on the forehead and you smiled giddily.

"Awesome because we now have two weekends of cuddle-time to make up for, and my bedroom hasn't been used in a week," you led him to your door.

"Oh no," Katsuki complained sarcastically, "however will we make up for such lost time?"

"Shut up, you big doofus," you grinned. "You know you love me."

"That I do."

~~~~~~~

a teensy tiny bit of OOC bakugou near the end there but like. he'd be a sucker for that and totally willing if it was just the two of you around HAHA

anyways this was cute and i....am forever still in love w bakugou :))))

[atlafan]

Part One - “Call me Jane.”

a/n: here’s part one of nanny!H, I’m very excited about this series. I’m not sure how many parts it’s going to be, so please don’t ask lmao. Once I know how many parts it’ll be, I’ll make a master post for it. I’m just too excited not at least share the first part because Harry is just too cute in this! Feedback and reblogs are super helpful, and keep me motivated, especially when it comes to writing series. (not proofread) You can support me here if you’re able!

Warnings: none...for now

Words: 4.1K

Pairing: Harry x OC (Jane Watson)

Master Post

Harry found himself in a real bind. He was twenty-six years old, had an early childhood education degree, and the daycare he worked at was going under. He had just been promoted a month prior too, how could things go wrong so quickly? Times like this he really hated that he stayed in the states. Childcare services weren’t nearly as fucked up back home. His dream was to save up enough money to open up his own pre-school at some point, but it was really tough.

There was this weird stigma that if adult men wanted to work with babies and toddlers then that made them a pedophile or something of the sort. That wasn’t the case with Harry. His minor in school was psychology because cognitive development intrigued him. He also loved babies and little ones. He loved watching them learn and discover.

Only now, he was without a job in an already struggling field. He and the other employees weren’t exactly given a big notice before they were told the business was going under. Harry mostly felt bad for the parents of the kids that had to find new child care centers. He knew he’d have to compete with his co-workers for any available jobs, and he knew they were bound to find places before him because they were women. It was their fault, and he knew it. He was experiencing a prejudice that they must face all the time.

He looked into Care.com, but none of the jobs on there seemed like long-term gigs, and he didn’t want to just be a glorified baby sitter. He figured if he could find a well paying nannying job, he could do that for a bit until finding a job at a new facility, or even set up his dream pre-school. During his search on Indeed, he saw a position for a live-in nanny – jackpot! Live-in meant long-term, and long-term meant lots of money. It also meant he could get rid of his apartment and not have to pay rent for a while. He clicked on the ad that was posted only a couple of weeks ago.

Live-in Nanny Needed for Help with Eight-Month-Old

Minimum requirements:

·        Bachelor’s in either early childhood education or elementary education

·        At least two years’ experience working babies/children

Three professional references required

Applicant is subject to thorough background check for the safety of the child and mother.

Other tasks as needed include:

·        Cooking

·        Light cleaning

·        Grocery shopping/running other errands

If applicant is selected, they will be paid a flat rate of $1600 bi-weekly, will live in “in-law” section of the house, and a car will be provided for them. A resume, cover letter, and three professional references may be sent directly to jpwatson@gmail.com

After reading everything over, this seemed like Harry’s best bet. Some of it seemed a little too good to be true, but this was a risk he needed to take right now. He just hoped the position hadn’t already been filled. That night he spent some time updating his LinkedIn, making sure all of his privacy settings were up to date on all of his social media, and then wrote out a resume and cover letter. The last part was his least favorite because he knew a proper resume and cover letter had to be curated to the specific job, and it made things all the more tedious. By the time he was done, it was late. He didn’t want to seem unprofessional, so he waited to send the email until the next morning.

Subject: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: jpwatson@gmail.com

From: hes2194@gmail.com

Good morning,

My name is Harry and I’m interested in the nannying advert you’ve posted on Indeed. For the last four years I’ve been working at P.B. & J.’s Child Care Center, and was recently promoted to team lead. Unfortunately, the business itself couldn’t remain afloat, and I was laid off.

Attached are my resume and cover letter. I’d be happy to provide the three references if I end up being considered for the position.

Thank you for your time and consideration,

Harry

Treat People With Kindness

He closes his laptop with a satisfied sigh after proofreading his email ten different times before he hit send. He takes a sip from his coffee, and sits back on his sofa. Now all he had to do was wait.

//

There was radio silence for two days. Harry was starting to think he would need to keep job hunting. He had bills to pay, and the last thing he wanted to do was ask his parents for help. They already looked down on his profession as it was. If he had his own car he’d become an uber driver or something, but he didn’t so he couldn’t. Then, by some stroke of luck, at 4:55PM on a Thursday, he gets an email from the address he had been hoping to see pop up.

Subject: Re: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: hes2194@gmail.com

From: jpwatson@gmail.com

Good evening Harry,

My name is Jane Watson, thank you so much for your application. My apologies it has taken me a couple of days to get back to you. I am usually more responsive, but things have been a little crazy at work as of late. Upon further review of your resume and over letter, I would like to offer you an interview this Saturday at noon, if you are available. I can be flexible if that day and time do not work for you.

If you are able to come, and are still interested in the position, I ask that you please bring your references with you. I will want to call them right away. I am sure you can understand me wanting to thoroughly look into you before letting you into my daughter’s life.

I look forward to hearing back from you soon.

All my best,

Jane

Harry responded to her right away, he didn’t care how eager he seemed. He told her Saturday at noon worked great, and that he would definitely have his references, and anything else he needed to provide. She emailed him back an hour or so later with her cell phone number and address. For the first time in a while, Harry felt like he could breathe again. He knew it wasn’t a done deal that he’d be getting the job, but he was being given a chance, and for that he was thankful.

//

He wanted to make a good first impression on Saturday, so he made sure to wash his hair in the shower, and use his good mousse so his hair would look more orderly. He shaved to give himself that clean and sleek look, this was not a day to appear scruffy. He knew he didn’t need to be overly dressed up, but he also knew that you’re supposed to dress for the job you want and not the job you have. He irons a pair of tan slacks and pairs it with a blue button up. Not to brag, but his bum looked great in these slacks, and it was giving him all the confidence in the world. He puts on a floral tie, just to show a bit of his personality, makes sure his nail polish isn’t chipped, and makes sure all of his rings are looking shiny. He takes an uber out to Jane’s house. It was in a gated community, which he was expecting since he looked up the house beforehand. He wondered what she or her husband did for work to live in a place like this. Or perhaps she inherited the home? Either way, he was excited.

He thanks the driver, and knocks on the door as he was instructed to do. A woman with silver hair that was up in a nice bun opens the door.

“Hello, you must be Mr. Styles.” She smiles.

“Yes, hello.” He smiles back.

“I’m MaryAnne, please come in.” She steps aside to let Harry in.

“Thank you.”

“Miss Watson is just pumping, but you can wait for her here in her office.” She leads Harry down a corridor where he meets a grand double door. MaryAnne opens them and shows him inside. “Make yourself comfortable, dear. Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, tea?”

“I’m all set, but thank you very much.”

The woman nods and leaves him in the room alone. He stays standing as he didn’t want to assume where he should be sitting. There was a gorgeous desk with two chairs on the other side, but there was also a small round table with four chairs around it in the corner. She clearly held a lot of meetings here, or so it would seem. To pass the time he looks over her bookshelves, scanning over what she might be into. She seemed to be into fiction, but he had never heard of any of the books on some of the shelves, or the author. She had several by the same person. Before he could look further, he heard the clacking of heels on the hardwood floors approaching him.

Everything stopped when she walked in. Jane had her hair up in a flowing ponytail, a white blouse covered her top half, he notices that the first few buttons were left undone, probably to help with her pumping, and she had a black pencil skirt on that just came to her knees. She was short, and a little voluptuous, not that Harry was checking her out.  

“Hello, Mr. Styles, I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He goes to stick his hand out for her to shake, but she walks around him and sits down at her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

He swallows and sits down.

“Y-you can just call me Harry if you like, Mrs. Watson.”

“I’m a Miss not a missus.” She says as she takes out a folder with a few sheets in it and a pen. “It says here you graduated Summa Cum Laude from Lesley University. That’s an incredible place to get a degree in education.”

“Thank you, I got a pretty decent scholarship, it was my reach school. I minored in psychology as well. I did my practicum hours at a daycare center that specialized in caring for children with disabilities. So, I’ve worked with all sorts of children. I prefer working with infants and toddlers, though.”

“And why is that?” She looks at him, clicking her pen, ready to take notes.

“Well, I just have more fun with them, to be honest. I like watching them discover new things. My favorite thing to do while working in the baby room at my last job was working with the babies on their tummy times. It was always rewarding to watch them get stronger. I feel like I just bond with them better.”

“I need to ask you some personal questions since this is a live-in position.”

“Of course.” Harry nods.

“Are you in any sort of relationship with anyone?”

“No, I’m single.”

“Have you ever been arrested, or do you have any sort of criminal history?”

“No.”

“I’m not one to judge, I think everyone deserves a second chance, I just have to ask these sort of things.” She says.

“I don’t have a criminal record, Miss Watson.”

“History of drug use?”

“I smoked a bit of weed when I was younger, but I don’t anymore. An edible once in a while, maybe, but never when I’m on the clock.”

“Just marijuana?”

“I’ve done shrooms a few times, but nothing other than that. Stupid kid stuff.”

“Again, not judging. I’d prefer you don’t have any drugs in the house, unless they’re for medical use. I know edibles can be prescribed by doctors for anxiety and whatnot.” Harry nods at that. “What about alcohol? You’re twenty-six, you must enjoy a drink after a long day.”

“A glass of red once in a while, sure.” He nods. “But I’m not really a heavy drinker, I never have been. I’d say if anything I’m a social drinker, but you watch me carefully at a party you’ll notice that I nurse the same drink.” He smirks.

“I’m the same way. A little bit of a buzz is fun, but anything more can be a bit scary. I actually cannot remember the last time I had a real drink.” She looks off in thought.

“Well, can’t you drink now that the baby’s here?”

“And have to succumb to a pump and dump?” She scoffs. “No way, that would be a total waste. It’s torture enough to sit there while a machine sucks the milk out of my-“ She stops herself. “Sorry.” She shakes her head. “Anyways, your resume was impressive, and you were quite articulate in your cover letter. You’re the only candidate I’ve invited for an interview.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I really wanted someone with experience, not someone fresh out of college looking for a place to live. You’d really be okay with living here?”

“Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor. My long-term goal is to either have a daycare or pre-school of my own someday. Not having to pay rent for a while would really help me save up for that.”

“That’s an incredible goal to have, Harry.” She smiles, impressed by his ambition. “What questions do you have for me?”

“I just want to clarify, your daughter is eight months?” Jane nods. “And what’s her name?”

“Lilly.” Jane smiles.

“That’s a beautiful name.” Harry smiles. “Why exactly do you need a live-in nanny?”

“I work a lot.” She sighs. “And I’m a single mom. I want her to always have someone here that she can depend on and feel comfortable with. Sometimes my work drags me out in the middle of the night, or I have to take a phone call at an odd hour. I just want someone else here in case I can’t be if something comes up.”

“So, her father’s not in the picture?”

“No.” Her features sour a bit. “He doesn’t even know she exists to be perfectly honest with you. I found out I was pregnant after we broke up, and I decided not to tell him about her. He was a deadbeat moocher, he would have been useless.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but thank you for telling me. May I ask, how old are you?”

“Twenty-nine, does that matter?”

“No! No, I was just more so curious. You seem pretty successful to be in a home like this. In the advert, you stated I’d be given a car as well, that’s not exactly cheap.”

“You’ll be given access to one of my cars.” She says. “I’m not giving you a car, make no mistake about that.” She smirks. “I’m an author, a successful one.” Harry tries to think if he’s ever heard of a Jane Watson before, but he’s coming up blank. “You’ve never heard of me because I have a pen name. If it’s all the same, I don’t really want to share it with you. Not yet, anyways.”

“Sure…wait…are you offering me the job?”

“Not quite. I’d like you to meet my daughter. I want to see how she interacts with you.”

“I’d love to meet Lilly.” He smiles.

“Great, before we do that, do you have more questions?”

“Yes, who’s MaryAnne? Is she, like, a maid or housekeeper?”

“No.” Jane laughs. “She’s my personal assistant. I usually answer the door myself, but pumping took a bit longer than usual.”

“When did you publish your first work?”

“When I was twenty.” She smiles. “I was still in school, and I decided just to self-publish. It took off, and a few companies reached out to me. I eventually got an agent, and the rest was history. I’m a fast writer, I’m able to churn out more projects than most people, and for whatever reason they keep becoming hits. One of the reasons I travel a lot is that a couple of my works are being turned into television shows, and working out those contracts is a lot. I want to be a part of the process to make sure the stories are told correctly.”

“That’s incredible!”

“it is.” She nods. “I never thought I’d be a television producer, but here I am. I don’t really want Lilly around all that, so there’s another reason for having a live-in nanny.”

“This may seem like a silly question, but will I have time off?”

“Oh my goodness, of course! The salary is negotiable as well. You’ll have weekends off, as well as all bank and national holidays. You’ll also earn vacation time and sick leave like at any other job. You’ll be given a benefits package as well, if you need health insurance.”

“You…you provide stuff like that?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I’ve just never heard of a nannying job quite like this before.” He blinks. “It feels too good to be true.”

“I’m just a firm believer in compensating someone properly. I believe in investing in the people you have.”

“Right.” He swallows. He almost starting to feel like he was going to be her sugar baby or something, but he obviously knew that wasn’t the case. “You asked me about my dating life, what about yours?”

“I’m also single. Lilly is my top priority, and then comes my work. I’m completely fulfilled as is.” She stands from her desk. “Come, I’ll give you a tour of the house, and of the in-law space, and then you can meet Lilly.”

“Okay.” He stands up and follows her out of the office.

She shows him the living room, which felt more like a study. There was an entertainment room with a huge flat screen, deluxe loungers, a pool table, and bar. She shows him to the kitchen which was equally as extravagant. She brings him upstairs to show him all of the bedrooms.

“This is Lilly’s room.” Jane says proudly.

“it’s beautiful, I love the light purple.”

“So do I.” She says. “My room is down the hall, don’t think you need a tour of that.” She laughs and they head back downstairs. “Here’s the inside entrance to the in-law, but there’s also an exterior entrance you can use…or if you have guests over.” Harry’s in awe of the space. It was larger than his apartment. “It’s a one bedroom flat essentially. There’s a full bath en suite, and there’s a half bath over there. Open concept kitchen and living area. It’s fully furnished as well. Feel free to decorate it however you like. I just ask that this space stays yours. There’s really no reason for you to bring Lilly in here, you know?”

“Sure, yeah. This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it. Let’s just hope Lilly like you.” Jane smirks, and they head back to the main part of the house, and into Lilly’s playroom. She was sitting with MaryAnne in a large rocking chair. “M, you can feel free to go back to your office if you like. Harry’s going to get acquainted with Lilly.”

“Of course.” MaryAnne stands up with the baby, and hands her over to Jane.

“She has an office here too?” Harry asks.

“Of course she does, and one of the guest rooms upstairs is hers to use when she needs it.” She kisses the top of her daughter’s head. “Lilly,” she coos, “I have someone I’d like you to meet.” She gestures for Harry to take her, and he happily does so.

“Hey, baby girl.” Harry coos. Bright hazel eyes look up at him in wonder. He lets her latch onto his index finger. “It’s so nice to meet you.” He looks at Jane. “She’s precious, Miss Watson.”

“Isn’t she?” Jane beams. “She’s really been enjoying her bouncy, and messing around with her blocks. I have some CD’s I like having her listen to as well. Oh! We did a paint with pudding night as a sensory play thing, it was a hoot.” She chuckles.

“Those are great, aren’t they? Very stimulating, and it teaches the child that sometimes messes are okay.” He looks down at Lilly and smiles. “May I sit with her in the rocking chair?”

“Please!” She gestures to it, and she sits down on the loveseat in the room. Harry sits down with Lilly, cradling her carefully. He adjusts her so she’s able to stand on his lap. She bounces herself and giggles. “Look at that!” Jane exclaims. “I love it when she does that.”

“She’s awfully sweet.” Harry smiles, and then he looks at Jane. “How much do you feed her?”

“I give her roughly twenty-four to thirty-two ounces a day. You’ll know how hungry she is or isn’t in the moment. I’ve started giving her pureed butternut squash, mashed bananas and strawberries, she’s got that puffed baby cereal as well. I’ve also started giving her ground chicken in really small doses just to get her some protein, but right now I’ve mostly been sticking to fruits and veggies. You must know a lot about what foods to give a baby?”

“I do.” He nods. “You’re still producing that much milk to give her daily?”

“I’ve almost been wishing I’d dry up. I get so sore somedays.” Jane sighs. “But I figure it’s good for her to have it while I can still make it. I’m not opposed to formular or anything…but I like bonding with her in that way. I got rid of her baby acne by rubbing my nipple on her skin, it was like magic.”

“It’s certainly a trick of the trade.” He smirks at her. “I remember learning that in one of my courses, and I was amazed. You all are super humans.”

Jane watches Harry play on the ground with Lilly for a bit. Harry was already so wonderful with her. Harry starts to smell something, and so does Jane.

“Think it’s time for a diaper change.” He chuckles and picks her up. “Would you like me to change her?”

“Yeah, I’d like to see you do it.”

He brings Lilly over to the changing table, and lays her down.

“I know you’re all warm and cozy, but I need to disrupt that for a moment.” He says to the baby girl who was babbling and blowing little spit bubbles, totally unbothered. Harry unsnaps her onesie, and lifts her legs to detach the diaper. His eyes widen at the type of diaper that’s on her. “You cloth diaper?” He looks at Jane.

“It’s better for the environment.” She shrugs. “There’s a trashcan for the…um, poop, and there’s another can for the diapers. I give her a regular diaper for bedtime just because it’s easier to change her in the middle of the night and in the morning, but daytime I use the cloth diapers.”

“Makes sense to me.” Harry disposes of everything, and grabs a few wipes to clean Lilly up. She took a powerful stinky.

“I blame it on the pureed peas.” Jane laughs.

“It doesn’t even phase me anymore, honestly.” Harry says as he gets a little baby powder on her. He grabs a spare cloth diaper, and gets it on her. He snaps her onesie back together and lifts her up. “There we go, good as new, darling girl.” Lilly blows some bubbles at Harry, and blows some back, making her giggle. Jane beams at the two of them.

“It’s about time for her afternoon nap. Would you like to put her down?”

“I’d love to.”

Harry carries Lilly upstairs with Jane. She flips on Lilly’s white noise machine, and makes sure her favorite blankies are in the crib. Harry sits down in the large chair in the corner of the room and starts to rock her gently, giving her soothing rubs. Jane watches as Lilly’s eyelids start to droop. She fights it at first, but Harry continues to soothe her until she’s out like a light. He carefully stands up and sets her down into her crib. The two back out of the room quietly, and make their way down the stairs.

“Let’s go back to my office.” Jane says, and Harry follows her there. Once they’re both seated, she starts speaking again. “Well, the job is yours if you want it.”

“Really?” Harry felt every worry from his life leave his body.

“Yes.” She chuckles. “You’ve really impressed me, and I think Lilly’s quite taken with you already. I’d love to have you as her nanny.” She takes out a few forms. “May I have your references? The background check will take about a week. How soon could you start after that?”

“Right away, honestly.” He hands her a sheet with his references.

“Here are the tax forms you’ll need to fill out, a form for direct deposit, and some information on your benefits. You can get everything back to me by the end of next week.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to get started, Miss Watson.” He stands to shake her hand, and she stands as she takes it.

“Please, you can call me Jane.”

[4stars-uswnt]

My Muse, My Valentine [Christen Press x Reader]

requested by anon: Not sure if you’re accepting any request but can you write a cp x photographer gf where her gf surprised her at man u, like her gf secretly transfer there to be with cp. Thanks

A/N: please ignore some of the inconsistencies this story has with reality :) but anyways... hope you enjoy and have a happy Valentine’s Day (tomorrow) and remember it’s a day about LOVE, whether that be romantic, platonic, familial, or self ❤️

“I’m gonna miss you,” you whine, as you watch your girlfriend pack her suitcase.

“I know, babe. I’m gonna miss you too, so much.” Christen leans down to quickly peck your lips, before continuing to fold her clothes.

You and Christen had been dating for almost three years now, having met after you’d photographed one of the USWNT’s matches. You instantly felt an attraction to the curly-haired forward, your camera always drifting towards her wherever she was on the pitch.

After you’d posted a couple of your photos on your Instagram, which Christen made a point to like and repost, you gathered up the courage to approach her after a game, and thus began your relationship.

With yours and Christen’s busy schedules, it was sometimes hard to find time for each other, but you made it work, sharing an apartment in Portland during the offseason and flying out for matches when you could. But being a sports photographer did have its benefits, as your work often led you to spending more time with your girlfriend and admiring her speed down the field and score goals.

But now, with the pandemic, as the NWSL was struggling to field games,  you found yourself with little work. Christen herself was not quite satisfied with the league’s plan for the season, so when Tobin proposed the idea of going to the WSL, she desperately wanted to, yearning to get back on the pitch.

At first, when Christen approached you with the subject, you immediately opposed, not wanting to be so far from your girlfriend for such a long amount of time. Additionally, with COVID, it would be nearly, if not completely, impossible for you to visit. But after a blowout fight and discussing it further, you realized that this is what would be best for Christen and her career.

“Do you have to go?” You pout, sitting up and moving to the end of the bed.

“You know I do, (Y/N/N).” Christen playfully rolls her eyes.

“Humph.”

“Babe, come on, don’t make me feel worse about leaving you.”

“Then don’t,” you quip, grabbing your girlfriend by the waist, pulling her down on the bed with you.

“Babe!” Christen squeals, as you blow raspberries into her skin.

You lift your head from the crook of her neck, your eyes locking with hers. “I know that you have to go,” you admit seriously. “Doesn’t mean I like it, but I know that this is what’s best for your career.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she says earnestly, giving you a small smile. “We’ll text and FaceTime everyday.”

“I’m holding you to that.” You cup her face and bring her in for a kiss, savoring the feeling of her soft lips on yours. “I also know that you’re gonna kill it over there in Manchester. The WSL isn’t gonna know what hit them.”

Christen ducks her bashfully, a small blush arising on her cheeks. “You know I love you, right?”

“Of course, Chris. I love you, too.”

“Good.” She gives you a quick peck, as she gets up from the bed. “Now, either quit bothering me or help me. My flight is early tomorrow morning, and I haven’t even finished packing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

—————

It had been a little over five months since you’d dropped Christen off at the airport and she left for Manchester. Despite the constant texting and the nightly FaceTime calls, you couldn’t help but ache for your girlfriend. Without her, the apartment was lonelier and the bed felt bigger.

It had helped that your work had started back up, first with some freelance work and then with the NWSL fall series starting, which gave you something to do and kept you fairly busy.

Currently, you were sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping on a cup of coffee, as you edited some photos for the Thorns. Just as you were saving your work and closing Lightroom, about to shut your computer, a ping alerts a new email in your inbox.

Switching tabs, you notice the message is from an unfamiliar address, so you presume it’s a new client. You click and open it, your eyes widening, as you scan the email:

Ms. (Y/L/N),

I noticed your professional portfolio through many referrals, particularly your work form the World Cup. I am writing on behalf of the BBC News Media Centre, and we’re looking for an excellent sports photographer to join the team, specifically to cover the FA Women’s Super League and the Premier League.

Your experience is outstanding, adn your work speaks for itself. I think you’d be a great fit for this role, and I’d love to tell you more about it and hear more from you.

Would you like to set up a phone or Zoom call soon? If so, let me know when you’re available.

Best,

Charles Smith

Director of Media Relations at BBC Sport

You quickly reread the email, and then reread it again, just to make sure you’re not dreaming. This was too good to be true. But you shake yourself out of your stupor and quickly type out a response to set up a phone call as soon as possible.

After hitting send, you shut your computer with excitement and throw your hands up in the air.

“Yes!” You exclaim into the empty apartment, as you throw your fist in the air and jump off the barstool.

Knowing you needed to distract yourself, otherwise you’d just be staring at your computer, eagerly awaiting the response, you decided to go on a run.

Jogging through the city, you think of your girlfriend and your potential reunion if this job offer worked out. You decided that if you did in fact take this position, you’d surprise Christen at one of her matches, hopefully one that you’d be able to photograph.

As soon as you arrive back in your apartment, you make a beeline for your laptop. You anxiously open your inbox and beam when you see Charles had replied to set up a Zoom call at 9:30 tomorrow morning. You excitedly type out pleasantries, telling him you’re looking forward to it.

For the rest of the afternoon, you were in an increasingly good mood. So later that evening, when Christen called you for your routine FaceTime, she could tell something was up.

“Why do you keep smiling like that?”

“Can I not be happy to talk to my girlfriend?” You tease, a huge grin plastered onto your face.

“You can,” Christen trails off, not quite believing you. “But you have the weird giddy look you get when something’s up?”

“Nothing’s up. Just had a good day,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“Okay,” the forward accepts, still eyeing you suspiciously. “Anyways, you know She Believes is in a couple weeks, are you working the tournament?”

“Yup,” you nod and make a mental note to mention that to Charles tomorrow.

The two of you continue updating each other, chatting about topics ranging from what you had for breakfast that day to re-inc’s upcoming drop.

“Alright,” Christen yawns. “I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

You check your phone and see it’s 5:37 pm, meaning it’s almost midnight in Manchester.

“Okay,” your eyes softening at the sight of your sleepy girlfriend. “Good night, Chris. I love you.”

“Love you, too, babe. G’night.”

After ending the call and shutting your laptop, you head into the kitchen to make some dinner for yourself, getting on with your evening.

—————

The next morning, you anxiously await for Charles to begin the Zoom call, nervously bouncing your knee and biting your lip.

“Hi, (Y/N),” Charles greets, his face appearing on your screen.

“Good morning. Or rather good afternoon?” You correct with a light chuckle, to which he reciprocates.

“Well, as you know from my email, we are looking for a photographer to join our team, and from many referrals, you seem to be a very good candidate,

“So, I was thinking maybe we could look at your portfolio really quickly and then hash out the logistics to see if this is something that could work out.”

“Sounds good,” you agree, as you pull up some of your best pictures and share your screen.

The two of you look through your photos, many from the 2019 World Cup, some of the Olympics, and a few from random NWSL games.

“Well, (Y/N), your work is quite impressive. If you’re ready, and you’re seriously interested in this position, we can talk specifics, scheduling, all that good stuff,” Charles offers.

“I’m definitely interested, but can I just preface by saying that my girlfriend is a major part of this decision, so depending on what she wants to do at the end of the season will impact my contract.”

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows, clearly not expecting your candor. “Your girlfriend plays in the WSL?”

“Yeah, well, technically only for this season. Her contract is up in May,” you explain.  

“(Y/N), to be completely frank, we’re looking to hire because a couple of our photographers had some personal issues due to COVID and had to leave mid-season,” Charles reveals. “So if it turns out that your girlfriend wants to go back to the NWSL, then we can work that out. And if she wants to stay, and you end up liking it here and you fit in well, we can also work that out. We’re pretty flexible.”

You sigh in relief, giving him a small smile. “Wow, thank you so much. So what would my contract look like?”

“Well, we can sign you to three month contract with the option for extension,” he offers, as you nod along enthusiastically.

“That sounds great,” you exclaim, beaming. “And just to let you know, I’ve already signed on to work the She Believes tournament from the 18th to the 21st.”

“That actually aligns with the WSL’s international break, and there are a couple Premier League matches that weekend, but I think we can manage, so that shouldn’t be an issue.”

“You guys are too kind and so flexible. I really appreciate it so much,” you say earnestly.

“It’s really just us being desperate for a good photographer,” Charles jokes.

“Either way, I’m grateful for this opportunity.”

“We’re excited for you to join our team,” he reciprocates. “So, in terms of when you’ll begin, I honestly would like you to come over as soon as possible so that you can get settled and get acclimated.”

“I am honestly ready to start whenever you’ll have me.”

“How about next week? The Manchester Derby is on Friday, and honestly, given your portfolio, I’d love you to photograph that match,” the British man admits.

“That’s perfect!” You were in complete awe of how perfectly everything was working out. Photographing a Man United match as your first job meant you could surprise Christen, maybe as an early Valentine’s gift.

“Great,” Charles smiles.

The two of you discuss and finalize your contract and the logistics of you starting the job. Once everything’s settled and you each have the information you need, you wrap up the call.

“Well, thank you so much, Charles, for this offer, and I can’t wait to see you next Tuesday.”

“I can’t wait to work with you and meet you. See you next week. Cheers.”

After ending the Zoom call, you begin to make a COVID test appointment, book your flight, and arrange your hotel room for the few days that Christen doesn’t know you’re there, preparing yourself for moving across the world.

—————

After landing in London, getting settled into your hotel, and meeting with the BBC team and the other photographers, you were now on your way to the Manchester Derby.

In the back of the black cab, you pull out your phone to text a good luck text to Christen.

It was difficult to keep your surprise a secret, especially when you were actually in England, because it was much more difficult to FaceTime without her noticing your change in setting. You had to make up the excuse that you were swarmed with editing and preparing for the upcoming Thorns trainings.

As you pull up to the Academy Stadium, you hear your phone ding.

Chris ❤️

Thanks babe. Miss and love you 😘

You quickly type out a response, before heading into the building.

(Y/N/N) 💗

Love you too. I miss u too but go kick butt.

The match was exhilarating. Not only were you a sports photographer, but you were also a huge fan of the game, enjoying a good game when you see one.

You watched in awe, the level and style of play significantly different from than NWSL. While snapping hundreds of photos of both teams, your camera would always somehow land back on your girlfriend.

Your heart ached for the curly-haired forward, as you missed her dearly. Until you saw her back on the pitch, you hadn’t really realized that you missed watching her play the game that she’d mastered, her movements around the pitch and on the ball effortless and elegant.

As the ref blew the whistle, signaling the end of the half, you scroll through some of the photos you’d taken, deleting some of the blurry and unfocussed ones.

A smile immediately forms on your face when you see a picture of Christen during warmups with a huge grin on her face. You spend all of halftime editing said photo and putting together an Instagram post for your girlfriend.

About fifteen minutes later, the teams take the pitch and you go back to doing your job. Throughout the second half, you could tell that Christen was getting increasingly frustrated, her team getting down 3-0 with only about five minutes left.

You watch as the players high five and hug each other, and you want nothing more than to run onto the field to be with your girlfriend, but you had a plan to stick to.

As the team goes back into the locker room, you pull out your phone to post a photo on Instagram and then you shoot a quick text to Tobin:

(Y/N)🤓:

toby go check out my ig post :))

Back in the Man United locker room, after Casey went through her post match speech, Tobin checks her phone and sees a text from you. The injured forward playfully rolls her eyes at your message but follows your directions.

Upon opening the social media app, Tobin raises her eyebrows, her eyes widening. She glances across the room to see if her best friend had seen your post, but Christen was minding her own business, changing into sweats after her shower.

“Chris!” The older forward calls over to the other woman. “Have you seen your girlfriend’s Instagram post?”

Christen furrows her brows in confusion. “What? No, what is it?”

Tobin waves her friend over and shows her the post:

Liked by mrapinoe, ashlynharris24, and 638,231 others

yourusername: My muse, my valentine.

“As I sat and looked at her

and the rolling hills she sat upon

I thought,

what amazing luck I have

that the world had created

such beautiful things

and given me the eyes to see them.”

- atticus

tagged: christenpress

- - - - -

mrapinoe: Stunning pictures, (Y/N). Love you guys 💖

alikrieger: These photos are 🔥🔥🔥🔥

alexmorgan13: love this 😍😍

cdunn19: Beautiful!

glennondoyle: Love love love love this!!

ashlynharris24: Holy shit! Are you in Manchester????

↳lavellerose: Was this today??

↳sammymewyy: Oh my gosh it was!

↳kellyohara: Valentine’s Day surprise for Pressy?? 👀

Christen zooms in on the photo in the center, her eyes widening when she realizes that it is from today’s match.

“How did she get that picture?”

Tobin mentally slaps her forehead at her friend’s denseness. “Knowing (Y/N), she probably took it.”

“But that’s impossible. She’s in the States,” Christen states and shakes her head, dumbfounded.

“Actually,” you speak up, stepping into the locker room, deciding to make your presence known. “I’m right here.”

“(Y/N)?” Your girlfriend looks up at you, her mind in a state of shock.

“Hey, love,” you greet shyly.

Once her mind caught up with reality, Christen runs and jumps into your body, kissing you passionately but briefly and wrapping you into a bone crushing hug.

“I can’t believe your here,” she whispers into your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, babe, so much.”

Unwrapping herself from the hug, Christen stares at you in awe. “What… how are you here?”

“We can talk about that later,” you give her another quick kiss. “But right now, I just wanna spend time with you. Maybe we can grab some dinner? You can show me around Manchester, considering I’m gonna be spending a lot of time here.”

Your girlfriend looks at you puzzled, but you just give her a wink with a small smirk on your face.

“Well, c’mon lets get out of here.”

—————

Back at Christen’s apartment, the two of you sit down for a nice and casual, but romantic, dinner you’d prepared along with a bottle of red wine.

After catching up, the forward finally decides to address the elephant in the room. “So how are you here? What’s going on, (Y/N/N)? You said earlier that you’d be spending a lot of time in Manchester, what does that mean? I’m so confused. Not that I’m grateful that you’re here right now and that I get to see you, but I thought you were working She Believes, and—“

“Chris,” you cut off your girlfriend’s endearing rambling. “Babe, you’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” she blushes, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“I got a job with BBC Sport till the end of the season,” you answer her parade of questions.

“Does that mean what I think it does?”

You nod, while taking a sip of your water. “It means I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

Not having the adequate words to express her joy and excitement, Christen gets up from her chair, walks over to sit in your lap, and connects you lips for a searing kiss.

“I can’t believe you,” she breathes, rubbing her nose against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you quickly peck her lips while rubbing circles on her hip. “But as much as I love you and all this romance, we gotta get going soon.”

Your girlfriend tilts her head in confusion.

“Do the words ‘She Believes’ ring a bell?” You tease. “If I remember correctly, our flight leaves in a couple hours.”

“You’re coming with me?” Christen asks, her brain trying to wrap around the fact that her girlfriend, who she hadn’t seen in almost five months, would now be living with her in England and flying back to the States with her for the next week.

“Of course, Chris,” you give her a cheeky smile, along with a kiss to her nose, as you quote a book Becky had convinced the whole team to read. “You should know by now that I’d follow you anywhere. You’re the only good thing left in this world.”

[middleearthpixie]

Damaged Goods ~ Chapter Nine

Author's Note: Just a reminder that this story follows the events of the miniseries Stay Close and will contain spoilers.

Title: Damaged Goods

Fandom: Stay Close

Pairings: Ray Levine x OC female Theodora (Theo) Bailey

Summary: Following the events of Stay Close, Ray Levine has come to the US to begin a new life and is staying with Theo Bailey, the friend of a friend, who is quickly becoming his best friend and Ray is starting to wonder if there isn’t something more there between them.

Like Ray, Theo has her own demons and although she wonders the same thing about Ray, fear of repeating past mistakes keep her from moving forward. Or do they? Somehow, these two damaged people will come together and discover that maybe—just maybe—second chances are worth the risk.

Theo and Ray enjoy their time together and she gets to know a little bit more about his time in Iraq…

Warnings: oral sex (m/f receiving) intercourse (protected)

Rating: M

Word Count: 4,962

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here and AO3

Ray couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent an entire day in bed with a woman and as he gazed down at the woman curved against him, sound asleep, he promised himself he would definitely spend all day in bed with her again. As soon as possible.

The muted sunlight had faded to the point where the room was more dusk than day, but he didn't need the sunlight to know how it played along Theo’s hair, the way it highlighted the dark blondes and honey golds that streaked through those long waves. Just like he didn't need to be looking right at her to know her eyes were the most stunning shade of green he’d ever seen. They weren’t uniform in color, but went from deep forest green at the outer ring of her irises to almost yellow near her pupils. They were the first thing he’d noticed about her when he’d come up from baggage claim at Newark Liberty Airport and saw her waiting with Tyler.

He’d stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the small woman standing next to Tyler Evans, who was nearly six and half feet tall and all muscle. Her name was Theodora, Ty said, but don’t dare call her that. She was only a few months younger than Ray, and where he’d been picturing a more grandmotherly type for some weird reason, he was utterly stunned by her.

“Ray Levine!” Tyler wrapped him in a bear hug. Although they’d kept in touch on and off over the years, it was mostly through email and they hadn’t seen each other in person in probably ten years. “Welcome to America! Theo, this is Ray. Ray, this is Theo. You two are gonna love each other!”

She’d looked up at him and smiled, but he noticed it never quite reached her eyes. They were friendly, but guarded. Very guarded.

Her eyes.

They stole the breath from his lungs and the thoughts from his mind for a moment. She had, without a doubt, the most striking eyes he’d ever seen and he itched to capture them on film—so to speak—because they were mesmerizing.

It had taken a little getting used to—living both with her and in the States. Everything in America was bigger, faster, noisier. And he’d been on his own since he was eighteen and living with a roommate wasn’t something he really wanted, but he wasn’t exactly in the position to turn her or Tyler’s offer down, either. If he'd wanted the fresh start, this was how it had to be.

But, to his surprise, he’d felt comfortable with her right from the first day, though, and in a way he’d never been with another woman. Not even Cassie.

At her apartment, Theo reached for the remote and flipped on the television. American football. The New York Giants. And within five minutes of putting it on, she was swearing like a sailor at the team.

Glancing over the sofa back at him, she’d said, “Do you like football? I can put something else on if you want. Like soccer or cricket, if that’s more your thing.”

He’d chuckled. “I don’t even know how to play cricket. This is fine, but I don’t know much about it, either.”

She’d smiled then, and patted the sofa cushion beside her. “Oh, come and hate on the Giants as much as I do. I’ll explain as we go along.”

“Wait, if you hate them, why are you watching them? Is your team not playing today?”

“They are my team. Trust me, five minutes from now, you’ll totally understand.”

And so he’d spent his first afternoon in his newly adopted country, sitting on the sofa with this hot little blonde, drinking beer and watching football. True to her word, she explained the game to him and answered each of his questions without mocking him or anything like that. And yes, he certainly understood why she hurled so many obscenities at her favorite team. In the short time it took for him to become a Giants fan, he learned that if they could screw up, they would, and they could snatch defeat from the jaws of victory in the blink of an eye. From that day on, he and Theo were friends in addition to roommates.

And now they were lovers as well.

Theo stirred, stretching and as she did, he bit back groan, as her breasts—her perfect breasts—pressed against his side. Her eyes opened slowly and she reached up to rub one with one hand, murmuring, “What time is it?”

“About four. You’re going to be up all night.”

“Oh, damn it… why’d you let me sleep so long?”

He scrunched down to bring himself eye-level with her. “You looked too peaceful to disturb.”

She smiled. “Well, thank you.”

“We should think about dinner,” he said softly, reaching down to curve his hand against her cheek. He couldn’t help it. He had to touch her. Her eyes closed as he let his thumb move along the ridge of her cheekbone, and a soft sigh frosted her lips.

He leaned into her, then shifted to ease over her. She slid her arms about his waist and when she brushed her fingernails along his back, it was his turn to sigh. The light caress sent a rush through him, fired his blood, fired his lust. Her hands pressed harder against his back, urged him down to meet her lips, which were soft and teasing. Those lush lips parted, and her tongue came equally soft and teasing as it caressed his.

She came up against him and he yielded to her silent command, shifting onto his back, and when she came flush against him, he sighed into her mouth at the wonderful pressure of her full breasts against his chest, of her hips against his. He slid into her warm, damp folds, fit there so perfectly, as if this woman had been made for him. Upright, he stood nearly a foot taller, but prone? They fit together perfectly, and as he let his fingertips sweep along the firm mounds of her bottom, he sighed again.

He traced a path over each cheek, up along either side of her spine, back down again, all the while slowly exploring her mouth as best he could. She responded in kind, her tongue slow and sinful in its teasing, and when she threaded her fingers into his hair and her nails grazed his scalp, he shivered beneath her.

Then she moved, kissing her way along his chin, down his neck. Her hair spilled across his chest as she moved down and his body tensed as she caressed his chest with her lips, his stomach, along his inner right thigh. He reached for her, let his fingers slip into the cool silkiness of her hair. His eyes closed at the sensations racing through him when she traced along his cock with just the tip of her tongue. A low moan rose to his lips. He couldn’t hold it back, didn’t even try, as fire licked along his skin, leaving powerful tingles in its wake. His hips rose to meet her, his breath hitching as her mouth closed about him in a silken pull that had him exhaling hard, his fingers twisting in her hair. The fire filled him now, slow and steady and relentless as she teased him with the velvety wet heat of her mouth, the rough caress of her tongue. Her fingernails grazed his inner thighs, threatening his sanity as his orgasm wrapped about him and squeezed.

She moved slowly, steadily increasing the pressure against him, until the fiery hot pleasure threatened to swallow him whole. He couldn’t keep his hips still, thrusting against her as his body demanded the satisfaction of coming, and he was powerless to hold off for much longer.

“Theo…” Her name was plaintive growl as he tugged on her hair, tried to pull her up to him. He didn't want to come this way—not this time, anyway—but wanted to be inside her when that happened. “Darling girl… wait… oh, god… wait.”

He popped free from her mouth with a soft squelch as she whispered, “Wait for what?”

His head lolled from side to side, spinning so badly from the sensations scorching him from the inside out. “I don’t want to finish this way…”

“Are you sure?” she whispered and then offered up a slow, teasing lick from his base, along the underside of his shaft.

“Christ… I’m—I’m positive… Come here…”

He didn't wait for her to answer, but caught her and all but dragged her over him. Her thighs against his ears softened her cry, but there was no mistaking the pleasure in it as he pulled her close and speared her with his tongue. She was sweet and sinful, her arousal firing his senses as the soft scent of her teased his nose, as the sweet taste of her lingered on his tongue with each slow stroke. Now it was her turn to shove her fingers into his hair, to twist and hold on as he thrummed hard against her clit, slid back to her opening and came forward once more. She moved again him, trembling as she whispered, “Ray…” with no little urgency.

He licked harder, swirled with more pressure, and when she came, he held her as still as he could, smiling at her breathless cry, urging her surrender, savoring every last bit of her release as much as she did.

She went still, leaning into the wood-and-iron headboard as she fought for breath. Although it was muffled, he heard the drawer open, felt her shift and a moment later, she moved down, condom in hand. He smiled as she tore open the packet, put it on him, shifted back over him and—

“Ohhh…” He couldn’t hold back his growling sigh as she came down onto him slowly, and then braced her hands on his chest as she rocked against him. He curved his hands about her hips, slid them up to cup her breasts at the same time. Her back arched, her nipples beaded against his fingers as he teasingly rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers.

God damn it all, she was so fucking beautiful! The fading sunlight burnished her pale skin ivory, played along the silver and gold highlights in her hair as it tumbled down over her breasts to offer up only hints of those full mounds.

She moved slowly against him, the pleasure playing out on her face in her heavy-lidded eyes and softly slack lips. She squeezed tight about his cock, taking him deep, almost letting him slip free, only to come hard against him again. His orgasm built with lightning speed, his body tensing beneath her as he whispered, “Darling… Faster…”

“Shhh…” She smiled, leaning forward to let those perfect breasts sway only inches from his face. “I am in no hurry…”

“Oh, Christ…” He sank back into the pillows, every fiber in his body humming with the need to come. He teetered on that edge, gritting his teeth as the white-hot pleasure devoured him. She trembled around him, her walls pulsed against him. Her cheeks were flushed, her hips moved faster now.

She teetered over the abyss as well.

He smiled, catching her by the hips to move her faster against him. She threw her head back, her fingernails bit into his chest, and she spasmed all around him, her cry of, “Ray!” husky and raw and it was enough to send him over the edge as well.

He crushed her to him as his release fed off hers and hers fed off his and when she sank against him, her entire body quivered as she breathed, “Oh, my god… oh, my god…”

He smiled, wrapping his arms about her, his head spinning madly, his body still firing off darts of smoking pleasure. She pulsed around him, each one gentler than the last, until she went quiet against him.

Her lips brushed his right nipple, and then she went still against him. He pressed a kiss into the top of her head, carefully reached between them, and reluctantly eased from her warmth. “Darling girl,” he murmured, sweeping her temple with a kiss. “That was lovely.”

“Lovely?” A hint of laughter wove into her voice as she picked up her head to smile at him. “I fuck you like a madwoman, and it’s lovely?”

“It was lovely.” He reached up to tuck a loose wave behind her ear. “And you can do that to me any time you wish, you know.”

“Ray.”

“What? You’re very good at it.”

“Ray!”

He laughed at the horror in her voice, tightening his arms about her. Nothing had ever felt as perfect as she did, against him, right then and there. His eyes slid shut, a sigh rising to his lips as he thought he could remain there, just like that with her, for the rest of his days, and be perfectly content.

Then his stomach growled.

Her laugh skittered warmly against his neck. “It sounds like something is trying to get out.”

“I told you we should think about dinner,” he gently squeezed her against him, “but someone was too busy thinking about sex.”

“I didn't hear you complaining, you know.”

She picked up her head to smile at him and without thinking, he cupped his hand again her cheek. “You are so very beautiful, Theo.”

To his surprise, she blushed. Blushed and tucked her head back against his neck. Trailing his fingers along her back, he murmured, “How could you not know that?”

“Because I’ve never felt that way.” Her words were somewhat muffled by his neck, then she lifted her head once more. “Not until now, anyway.”

“Well, you are. And I have had a wonderful time here this afternoon.”

“I’ll just bet you have.” A soft laugh accompanied her words as she eased off him. Then, she pressed her lips together for a moment, and nodded. “It has been lovely.”

He chuckled, carefully sitting up to slide to the edge and rise from the bed. As he padded out of the room, he called, “So, dinner?” over his shoulder.

“What about it?” she called back.

He smiled as he cleaned up and dried off and when he came back to Theo’s room, it was to find her still under the covers. She didn't even bother to try hiding the fact that she watched him, and as he swept up his black boxer briefs from the floor, he said, “What do you feel like?”

“I don’t know. We had Italian last night, so I know I don’t want that.” She sat up, the covers slipping away to pool about her hips, and he almost sighed aloud at the sight. Then she rose in all her glory and the only thing he could think about was pulling her back down into bed.

He bent to fish her bra and thong up from the floor and held them out. “Do you like Indian food?”

“I do, if it isn’t too spicy.”

“Do you trust me?” He grinned.

“I do, yes.”

She said it without hesitation as she slid into her bra and hooked it, and the fact that she’d answered that way sent an unfamiliar warmth through him. He stepped into the briefs, waited for her to do the same with her thong, then pulled her close. Their lips met, her arms slid about his waist, her hands flat against his back. Then, she pulled away. “Let me go see if I have any menus for any Indian restaurants.”

An hour later, she and Ray were on the sofa wrapped in her mother’s afghan, and she was settled quite nicely between Ray’s legs. She trusted him to order dinner and the curry was one of the best things she’d ever tasted. Afterward, she sank against him, letting her head come to rest against his chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever spent a day this way. It was perfect.”

He draped his arms about her shoulders. “Me, neither, and yes. It was.”

“Still no word from the police on your Jeep?”

“I don’t expect to hear from them. I would, however, appreciate a call from the garage. How long does it take to put two tires on?”

“I’m not a mechanic,” she gazed at him over her shoulder, “but I’m kind of surprised you haven’t heard yet.”

“Maybe in the morning.”

His cell rang, buzzing across the table as it did. Thankfully, it wasn’t Cassie’s ring tone, but Ray’s usual one. “You can answer it, if you want.”

He tightened his arms about her. “I’m not quite ready for the world to intrude just yet.”

HIs phone went quiet, and about a minute later, chimed. Voicemail, most likely. With that, he shifted slightly and her eyes closed at the first brush of his lips along her shoulder, up along the side of her neck, his teeth gentle as he caught her left earlobe between them. She shivered at the gentle ripple moving through her when he did it again. Then, he whispered, “Stay with me tonight, love…”

“I’m with you every night,” she replied softly, tilting her head to the right as he moved back down along her neck.

“No, I mean, sleep with me. I want to wake up with you tomorrow morning.”

A pleasant warmth spread through her at that. “You do?’

“Yes, I do.” He drew back to gaze at her. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“Because I’m surprised, that’s why.”

“He did a number on you, didn’t he?”

“Who?”

“All of ’em, I guess.”

“I’ve had my share of lousy boyfriends, so yeah, probably all of them.” She sighed softly and let her eyes close. Everything just felt so… right… She wished time would stop, that the world would just stop and let her be happy for a while, let Ray be happy for a while.

Let them be happy for a while.

But, come tomorrow, the grind started again for her. She had three clients at the Zone in the morning and two in the afternoon, which was fine, since people didn’t seem to be all that interested in training in their own homes these days. If it wasn’t for Tony, she’d have no income at all.

“Are you dozing on me?” Ray’s voice came softly, his lips brushing her ear.

“No,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I’m just very cozy. I don’t want today to end.”

“That would be nice.”

She forced her heavy-lidded eyes open and shifted slightly to look up at him. “Is Drew sending you after another cheating husband tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.” He nodded in the direction of his phone on the table. “That might have been him leaving the voicemail.”

“Well, if you need a car, you can use mine tomorrow.”

“Want to come with me if I do?”

“And sit in the cold, waiting for other people to meet up so they can have sex?”

His laugh skimmed softly across her nape. “We can always do it when we come back here.”

“That’s not weird at all.”

“I didn't mean it quite that way.”

She snuggled back against him. He wrapped his arms about her once more and they say there together in peaceful silence for a few minutes. Then, without moving, she murmured, “Ray?”

“What?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Ask me anything you wish.”

“What was it like? Being in Iraq, I mean. I know you said you were scared, but what was it like for you?”

“It was a rush at first. I was still relatively young—barely in my thirties, and I had nothing to tie me down to any one place. I liked the idea of seeing parts of the world I probably wouldn’t have seen otherwise.”

“Were you with the British military or ours?”

“Yours.” He sighed softly. “I spent about ten weeks in boot camp, agreed to abide by the regs they set out for us, and off I went.”

“Wait,” she shifted so sit beside him, her back again the sofa’s arm, her legs now draped veer his, “you were in the military?”

“Yes and no. I was in that they saw to it I had basic training, they gave me tags to wear, and told me what I would and couldn’t document. It was all fairly straightforward. Mostly they warned about giving away locations and anything that might be classified. But other than that, I shot what I wanted, where I wanted.”

“It had to be a rough adjustment.”

He sighed softly, shaking his head. “It wasn’t anything I could have prepared for, Theo. It’s nothing anyone could prepare for. I knew going in I’d see some shit, but I had no idea just how much and how awful some of it would be.”

She pressed her lips together for a moment, then reached over to brush her fingers through his hair where it curled at his nape. “You don’t have to talk about it, Ray.”

“There isn’t much to talk about. People are capable of committing unthinkable atrocities against people. I can get into some dark places and my dark places are nothing compared to that. Even when you think you’re keeping your distance because you’re viewing the world through the viewfinder, keeping the camera as a barrier, it doesn’t matter. It still gets you. It seeps into you—into your heart, your soul. I got out because I had to, before it devoured me.”

His voice grew hard and hints of anger wove into his words as he went on, “And what purpose did any of it serve? There were no weapons of mass destruction. None. All that happened was the further destabilization of an already-unstable region. Although,” he looked over at her with a rueful smile that held neither warmth nor happiness, “I did get a book published, so there’s that, I suppose.”

“You wrote a book?”

He shook his head. “It’s a book of my photographs.”

“Do you have a copy?”

“Somewhere in there,” he gestured toward his room.

She smiled. “Could I see it? I’m curious to see what your work is like when it doesn’t involve husbands fucking around on their wives.”

“You sure you want to see it?”

“Ray.”

“Okay, okay.” He carefully eased out from under her and rose, then turned to clasp her hands and pulled her up as well. As she rose, his eyes darkened. “I like how you look this way.”

This way was in her bra and thong, as they had been quite cozy under the afghan. He wore only his boxer briefs and she had to admit, she liked how he looked that way as well. Still, she arched a brow at him. “Ray.”

He grinned, leaned over to just very lightly brush his lips over hers, then straightened up to say, “It might take me a few minutes because most of my books are still boxed up and I can’t even guarantee I have it, since I left a lot of my library back in Blackpool.”

She tugged the afghan off the sofa to drape about herself as she followed him down the short, narrow hall to his room. His view wasn’t quite a nice as hers—he overlooked the parking lot—but the room was about the same size as hers, and not quite as cluttered. Several large boxes stood stacked in the far corner near the windows, untaped but not opened. His bed was haphazardly made and covered with a dark blue comforter, and in front of the closet a collection of boots lay scattered about.

He’d claimed it as his space, though, by hanging several framed black and white shots—nothing of a warlike nature, though— over the dresser, and on the built-in bookshelf, stored several cameras from different eras, a kevlar Army helmet sat on the bottommost shelf, alongside books on photography, on photographers, and various other things he’d picked up in his travels, or so she thought.

On his dresser, in a small dish where he kept the jewelry he wore—the woven leather bracelet on his right wrist, various rings—she spotted his dog tags. They were somewhat battered looking. Had something happened to him in Iraq?

He moved to the boxes by the window. “You can sit,” he said without looking back, “I don’t think anything in here will fight back.”

“You say that as if you lived in a mess. It’s pretty neat in here.”

“Because I spend most of my nights on your sofa.” He winked and turned back to the box.

She moved to the queen-sized bed and sank onto the edge of it. “Did you take those?” She pointed to the photographs on the wall, although he wasn’t looking in that direction.

“I did. Back home.”

“They’re really good. I mean,” she moved closer, the afghan dragging on the floor behind her, “I don’t know much about photography, but I think they’re beautiful.”

“Thank you. I shot those after I got home from Iraq,” he said, rummaging through the box, lifting out book after book to set on the foot of his bed, “I needed beauty after everything I’d seen there.”

“I can only imagine.” As she leaned in to get a better look, her belly clenched. In two of the photographs, what she’d thought were just beautiful landscape shots, she saw the same strikingly beautiful woman of color with long, honey-colored hair. And in one of those two, she and Ray were together, kissing.

Cassie. It had to be.

Her gut curdled and she turned away from them as her face grew hot.

“Found it,” he said, straightening up and turning at the same time. His smile faded. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She forced a smile as she looked at the book in his hands. It was the size of a coffee-table bound, bound in gray, with a black and white photo of a man silhouetted against a dark gray landscape and the words War Zone in black. “Is that you?”

“No. It’s Ty, believe it or not.” He skirted the foot of his bed and offered up a quick glance at the photos on the wall. “Theo, I—”

“You don’t have to explain it,” she reached for the book, “you were in love with her, were going to marry her, you—”

“Let me photograph you,” he said softly. “I think you’d capture beautifully.”

“Ray, you don’t… that isn’t necessary… please,” she took the book from him and sank back onto his bed, “I just want to see your work.”

The bed dipped as he sank next to her. She tried to put those two photographs out of her mind. It was stupid to dwell on photos taken nearly twenty years earlier, but she’d be lying if she said seeing them didn’t sting a little. Childish. Stupid. Juvenile. Moronic. Her feelings were all of the above, and she wanted only to ignore them as she flipped open the cover of War Zone.

The photos in that book stole the breath from her lungs and more than once, made her eyes tear up. Ray had seen some serious horrors of war and documented them unflinchingly in his book. Destroyed buildings, vehicles smoldering on roadways, men, women, and children the victims of snipers, suicide bombers, IEDs.

But, there were also pictures of hope in there—a newborn baby in his mother’s arms, children playing and laughing despite the destruction around them, teenagers kicking a soccer ball while a truck smoldered behind them, what looked to be an impromptu wedding against the backdrop of a shelled out building in Baghdad. Tears stung her eyes. Her throat squeezed shut. In between utter desolation and human suffering, he’d captured the ultimate hope in the human spirit.

“Ray,” she whispered without looking up, “these are stunning. Absolutely fucking stunning.”

“Thank you.” He shifted, moving to enclose her between his legs once more, and tapped the page with the wedding photos. “This couple met not two days before I took this. It was amazing to see how they just decide to throw all caution to the wind and take the plunge. I sometimes wonder if they are still together. She was Sunni, he was Shia’a. I can only imagine how their families would have felt, but you could feel the love that day. Could almost see it. It’s one of my favorite pictures.”

She looked over at him. “You have a gift, Ray. You really do.”

He smiled, brushing her hair over her right shoulder. “I just hold the camera.”

“No,” she shook her head as his fingers lingered along her neck, “these are really good. You should get back into this.” She glanced down at a black and white photo of a bombed out tank. “If you want to, that is.”

“I taught photography to kids back home,” he said softly. “I think I’d rather work with them than photograph this misery again.”

“So, why don’t you? You could get the credentials you need to teach. Your name alone is probably known well enough.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He flipped the book closed and took it to set it aside. “But I liked it. Kids just want to learn. They absorb knowledge like sponges.”

As he spoke, he leaned in to her, his lips just brushing hers. His kiss deepened, and she didn't resist as he urged her onto her back. A few minutes later, War Zone hit the floor with a thud and the afghan slid off the bed to cover it.