#but anyway this was such a delightful ask to wake up to!!! good morning I hope you are so well

[coelakanths]

Tumblr keeps recommending me your blog even though we've been mutuals for a good while now (also hey we haven't talked in a bit how's everything going?)

greeting you like we’re in an apocalyptic situation and we were separated and now we’ve found each other again and ill share my cans of beans with you

[rachalixie]

can’t get you off my mind

all good love stories start with a drunk stranger, don’t they?

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fem!reader

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 4k

it starts at a bar. 

or really, it starts with a man at a bar. one that you’ve seen before in passing, a familiar face in a sea of more familiar faces. someone who you’ll later learn is one third of your best friend changbin’s production team, someone who you should have met years ago probably, someone who you would find is the perfect puzzle piece that fits into your jagged edges.

but right now, he is just a man at a bar with a beer in hand and a ridiculously dopey smile on his face. 

“marry me, please,” he says, absolutely serious but it’s a bit diluted from the way his words were slurred around the edges. “or i’ll have to kidnap you.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow at him, his image swimming a bit as you turn your head to fully take him in. you’re not drunk, but youre a couple glasses of wine deep and you’re not known for being fully articulate whilst sober anyways. 

“i swear i’m going to marry you,” he says, eyes wide as he looks at you. “you might be the most perfect person i’ve ever seen.”

you’re not overly fond of men you haven’t met hitting on you, but this one seems a bit harmless. if you ignored the part where he said he would kidnap you. at least he wasn’t grabbing onto you or trying to touch you - that would have sent your fist flying towards his face and probably a swift exit from the bar. it was a little weird that you didn’t find him weird, but in retrospect you must have known, even then. 

“okay, listen,” you put your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “if you find me when you’re sober, ask me again and maybe i’ll reconsider.”

“okay,” he nods, hair moving along with his movement like a puppy’s ears. “i can do that. i’ll find you, i promise. i’m gonna marry you, did you know?”

“so i’ve heard,” you roll your eyes, already feeling a bit fond about him. you didn’t think you’d meet him again, but you were sure that you’d look at this night with a fond smile later. 

he sends you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person and scampers off, and you stand rooted to that one sticky spot in the bar for longer than you want to admit.

–

he’s in the back of your mind when you wake up the next morning, in a better mood than most - you never liked waking up early, it always took you a good hour and some coffee to be able to stand without grimacing. this morning though, you float around your apartment as you get dressed with a small smile on your face. 

a cute stranger who kept his boundaries and called you perfect? that wasn’t something that happened often, at least not to you. 

the floatiness followed you all the way through your morning routine until you found your feet stopping outside the coffee shop that you and changbin all but owned. you had no stock in it, but you’re sure that you supply them at least half of their revenue, you probably sit on their rickety chairs more often than your actual couch at home. this place has nursed you through every college class and job interview preparations and beyond, and if it ever closed you might lose time off of your life span. 

your movements from the door to the counter to your usual seat were robotic, muscle memory taking over while your head did somersaults through the clouds. it’s only when you take the first sip of coffee, the bitterness and heat hitting your tongue in a delightful dance, that you notice it. 

another man is sitting next to changbin. a man that looks awfully familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why. it’s the man from the bar. 

“changbin?” you keep your eyes on the other man as you direct your question at changbin, trying hard to keep your face neutral. “explain?”

“i’m chan,” the man interjects before changbin can answer, reaching his hand across the table for you to shake. it’s warm, his grip somewhere perfectly in the middle of too hard and too soft, and he lets go after an appropriate amount of seconds. despite the neutral passivity of the gesture, you feel something ignite within you, and it threatens to sputter out when you catch no spark of recognition in his eyes. was he that drunk last night that he doesn’t remember you? do his sober eyes not find you as perfect?

“he crashed at my place last night,” changbin’s voice filters through your turmoil, and you finally break away from chan’s gaze to level him with a look. “and he needed coffee, so i brought him along. chan, this is y/n, my best friend.”

the conversation that followed flowed more freely than the coffee dripping from the machines behind the counter, and you almost hate how much you like it. chan is a little goofy, the man from the previous night shining through moments of seriousness and rapt attention. 

by the time you had to leave to go to work you felt like you knew him. you learned where he lived (close to you!), that he worked with changbin (he’s a producer!), and that he loved all animals but he adored dogs (he has one named berry!). just an hour of casual conversation had led to you needing more of him in every aspect of your life, but still in the back of your head lived the thought of him not remembering you from the night before.

changbin leaves first, citing some meeting he had to run to in the middle of a yawn, and when you were left with chan the embarrassment began to set in. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he blurts out, startling you so much you almost jump out of your seat. 

“what?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and disbelief combining into a confusing vortex within your head - was he going to go through this again? you didn’t know if your heart could take it. 

“i mean, i remember you,” he says before you could awkwardly excuse yourself and commit to getting to work early for the first time in a year just to escape being in a room alone with him for much longer. “i’m sorry, i was just embarrassed. i didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of changbin.”

“oh,” your breath leaves you all at once and you slump into your chair, understanding hitting you like a train. “that makes sense? i think?”

“i’m going to marry you,” he repeats, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the boy from last night shining through. “one day. i’m going to do it.”

“take me on a date first,” you tease back, a genuine smile stretching across your lips when he laughs, a full bodied thing that drew in eyes from the patrons across the room. for once, you didn’t seem to care that others’ eyes were on you. he made you feel comfortable. 

“what are you doing tomorrow?” his mouth turns upwards into a beautiful smile that you can’t help but return. 

“eager, are we?” you open your phone, sliding it across the table with the new contact page open on it. “i’m free.”

“you’re the most perfect person i’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, as serious and genuine as the way he had proposed to you last night as he taps his number into your phone. “sorry if i’m a bit desperate.”

“don’t apologize,” you take your phone back, making a mental note to text him later. “i like it, for some unearthly reason. you’re cute, chan.”

the sound of his delighted laugh follows your footsteps all the way to work. 

— 

he picks you up for your first date at noon, right on the dot. he wasn’t a minute late, a polite knock sounding through your apartment just as the hour turned, as if he had been waiting and watching the time outside the door. 

god, is everything about this man endearing? 

he’s wearing shorts and a light sweater, looking like something out of a posh magazine. his hair is curly and swept off his forehead and he’s wearing a smile with the most adorable dimples shining through. 

he leads you to his car and you have to hold back an impressed whistle. you knew changbin and his team did well for themselves, the name 3racha all over the credits of songs on the radio, but this car was nice. you were going to have a talk with changbin about why he still drove the same beat up sedan he’s had since college but that was a thought for later. right now all you wanted to think about was the man who held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat and was now holding your hand over the middle console. 

“do i get to know where we’re going?” you ask, peering at the map open on his phone but it tells you nothing more than that your destination was 15 minutes away and that he had to make a right turn in one mile. 

“it’s a surprise,” he says, voice a little nervous but it was masked with excitement. wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be there if he was this happy the whole time. 

four songs on the radio later, one of which you teased him for when he revealed that he wrote it, he was pulling into a parking lot illuminated by flashing colorful lights. he had brought you to the fair. 

“i’ve never been to the fair!” you bounced a little in your seat, wriggling in excitement. “i’ve always wanted to go, how did you know?”

“lucky guess?” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“changbin told you, didn’t he,” you smile at the thought of chan asking his friend about what you’d like. it was cute, a word that you were probably exhausting when thinking about him even after a day of knowing him. 

“yes, but,” he flushes, the tips of his ears burning red. “i asked him after i had decided to come here, just to make sure it was a good idea. i didn’t steal it from him.”

“hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours that he had yet to let go of in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. you didn’t know what brought him calmness yet, but you wanted to learn. you wanted to learn everything about him. “now, take me to the fair, bang chan. i was promised a date.”

he finally meets your eyes again and he’s grinning so happily that you feel like you had just won a prize. who needed a fair when you had your very own carnival game right here? 

it turns out, you did. by the time the sun was beginning to set, your arms were full of various plushies that chan had won for you, each one earning him a hug and a kiss to his cheek. you treasured every single one, the fluttering in your chest when he stepped up to the booths to throw and shoot various things never ceasing. 

“let’s go to the ferris wheel,” you tug at him with your free hand, thanking the skies when you see no queue there. “i bet the sunset looks beautiful from the top.”

he’s quiet when he follows you there and into the carriage, his thigh pressing against yours as he slides in next to you, but you don’t notice in your excitement. it isn’t until the wheel ticks to the top and stops that he grabs your hand again, trembling a little. 

“chan? are you okay?” you ask, concern warping your voice as you turn towards him. your movement rocks the carriage a bit and he turns pale, ducking his head into your neck to hide. 

“yeah, ‘m okay,” he murmurs, his eyelashes ticking your skin when he blinks his eyes shut. “just don’t like heights very much.”

“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?” you cry out, jumping a bit and regretting it when you rock the carriage again. “nevermind that, what can i do? it’ll go down soon, you’ll be alright.”

“just keep holding my hand?” he squeezes your fingers lightly and your heart melts. you may have made a joke that he was just trying to trick you into holding his hand any other time, but the fear in his shaking body was real and you’d never tease him for that. 

“of course,” you press a kiss to his hair, moving your other hand slowly to wrap around your intertwined fingers. the wheel begins to turn again, swaying the carriage as it descends. you keep your grip on his hand tight the entire time, all the way until you’re on your feet again on steady ground. 

“i’m so sorry,” you begin to say, the horror of subjecting him to his fear creeping up now that the crisis has passed. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he says, cutting off your apology and lifting your hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the back of yours. “no one’s ever been able to keep me that calm. thank you.”

you were left speechless after that and all you could do was smile at him, the ghost of it not leaving your face for the rest of the night. 

–

your thirty first date with chan ends with you crying into changbin’s arms, utterly confused and the feeling of despair creeping up your veins. you had met him your cafe as you had done several times since the fair, but when you arrived he wasn’t there. he came late, dark storms in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw and you didn’t understand what had made him like that. the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes were missing, and when you and asked him about what was wrong he had snapped at you in a way you hadn’t been talked to in years. 

you had left after that, brushing him off when his eyes had widened and he reached for you while calling out your name. you know that you should have given him a chance to explain, but at the time you were too hurt to consider it. 

you made your way to changbin’s apartment without thinking, your feet taking you to safety before your head could catch up. changbin had taken one look at your face before wrapping you up in his arm, walking you to his couch so he could cuddle you properly while words spilled out of you like a leaky faucet. you felt like you were back in college, crying and blubbering over a boy who had rejected you at a party, and you hated it. 

you didn’t notice changbin sending an angry text to chan, but the sound of changbin’s door opening with a bang startled you out of your tears. chan bursts in like a whirlwind, his hair sticking up at weird angles and a look of panic on his face as he takes you in. he reaches the couch in a few strides and falls to his knees in front of you, holding a crumpled bag from the cafe in his hand and taking your cheek gently into his other. his thumb wipes at the tear tracks there and you could practically taste the guilt emanating off of him. 

“love, i am so sorry,” he starts, ignoring changbin when he scoffs at the apology. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you, i had no right to do that. i got some bad news this morning and i wasn’t feeling my best, and i should have been honest with you. i’ll never do anything like that again, please forgive me? i’ll do anything.”

it was more his voice than his words that did it - he sounded so desperate, like he was trying to hold

onto a ledge that was crumbling, threatening to hurl his body into eternal nothingness. you knew him, you knew he was sorry, and against your first instinct you trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do it again. 

“is that an almond croissant?” you eye the bag in his hand. 

“it’s two almond croissants,” he nods fervently, his hair swishing back and forth with the movement. you sit up, sliding out of changbin’s arms and onto the floor in front of chan. chan’s arms replace changbin’s easily when you lean into him, and it feels like coming home. 

“it’s not like i have a nice couch you could be sitting on,” changbin mutters as he leaves, shaking his head fondly at the two of you before making himself scarce. 

chan kisses you, cradling your head gently into his hands, and they’re so warm. he slides his lips against yours, slowly like he’s taking his time memorizing the planes of your mouth to commit to memory. even after kissing him dozens of times you still find new things to learn about each other. 

“i swear,” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes. “i’m going to marry you, someday.”

“keep getting me croissants as apologies and we’ll see,” you say, sniffling into his neck. 

—

your eighty seventh date was spent in your bed, your head spinning like both hands on a clock simultaneously and your body exuding more sweat than you ever have. 

chan is wringing out a cool cloth to place on your forehead and it feels so nice that you moan. 

“i’m sorry,�� you mutter, and chan has lost count of the amount of times you’ve said it at this point. “we had a date and i ruined it.”

“we were going to see a movie,” he says, running a hand up and down your spine. “and we will. we don’t need a movie theater when we have a screen right here, hmm?” 

“but the popcorn,” you complain, closing your eyes in bliss when he runs a hand through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. an apology for being so sweaty was at the tip of your tongue but you hold it back in favor of enjoying the feeling of his touch. 

“i’ll make you all the popcorn you want when you’re feeling better,” he promises, dropping a kiss to the side of your head. “for now, how does soup sound?” 

“popcorn soup?“ you ask, a wave of dizziness taking over your body; if you weren’t lying down already, you’re sure that too would be falling over. 

“yeah, baby,” and even in your delirium the fondness in his voice was prominent. he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. “i’ll make you some popcorn soup. get some rest okay?”

you’re asleep before he leaves the room, and you only wake up when he shakes your shoulder a bit and helps you into an upright position. he feeds you bites of what is definitely not popcorn soup after putting a movie on your laptop, the screen sitting at the foot of your bed. the both of you fall asleep before the movie finishes, but you don’t mind. 

he stays with you for days, making you soup and tea and toast and feeding you medicine and being an all-around angel as he nurses you back to health. by the time you’re better you think you’ve fallen back in love with him several times. 

as you had expected and warned him about, he catches your sickness the next week, and now it’s your turn to be his nurse. you try and do the same job he did, but his delirium seems worse. the silver lining is that his fever isn’t as bad, so you’re babysitting a babbling boyfriend more than a sick one. 

the night before his fever breaks is the worst, since he doesn’t even recognize you. you shake your head at his silliness when he asks who you are and calls you pretty. you smile when he takes your hand in his and asks you to come closer. 

you tear up when he tells you that he has a girlfriend that he loves very much and so even though you’re pretty he can’t do anything else because his girlfriend is the prettiest one in the whole world. you let a tear slip when he tells you that he can’t wait to propose to his girlfriend and that he’s going to marry her someday. 

you tell him that you have a boyfriend that you're going to marry someday, trusting that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

—

your hundredth and fifth date was not unlike your fifth, or your tenth, or your ninetieth. two and a half years later, you were just as endeared by him and he was just as obsessed with you - even more so, if it were possible. 

he takes the time to tell you how gorgeous you look when he picks you up just like he does on every date, and you hide your disgustingly fond smile for him behind his back like you do every time you see him. 

he parks and runs around the car to let you out like he does every time you habit this restaurant, a little fancier than your usual best but it was a favorite of the both of yours - across the street from the bar the two of you had met at. 

you start walking before he does, letting him jog to meet you and complain about how you left him, just like you do every time. before him. you might have thought the monotony would have gotten tiring, but he had a fantastical ability to make every moment feel like the first despite their practiced nature. 

he calls your name from behind you right on schedule and you hum in acknowledgement, turning towards him absentmindedly. the second you lay eyes on him you’re completely alert, though; he isn’t jogging after you, but rather he’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a small box in his hands as he smiles up at you. 

“i’ve told you that i’m going to marry you more times than i can count,” he starts, eyes shining like the stars twinkling in the night sky above you. “but this time i’m asking you.”

“chan,” you choke out, hands coming up to cover your mouth as it quivers. tears spring to your eyes and you silently curse yourself - you always thought you’d be level headed when you got proposed to, but nothing could have prepared you for this, not even the thousands of declarations he had made to you prior. 

“i love you. you’re the only one in the entire universe that i need more than blood or breath, you’re the song that runs through my heart and the fire that leads my path when i’m lost,” his voice is thick, like he’s trying to hold back his emotions long enough to get his words out. “i never thought that i would feel so strongly for someone, i never thought that i deserved a love like this until i met you.”

he pauses as you walk closer to him, letting you approach him before he continues. 

“my love, my eternal light,” he’s tearing up now, blinking fast to keep the salty water at bay. “will you marry me?”

“chan,” you start, kneeling down next to him and taking his wrists in your hands. “i never told you this, but ever since that first day i knew. i knew that the drunk idiot that was hitting on me would be my husband.”

he chuckles, smiling delightedly as the tears finally spring from both of your eyes in unison.

“so?” he trails off, searching your face with his eyes, waiting. 

“oh!” you tighten your grip on him in an apology. “of course i’ll marry you, gosh i love you so much.”

[azzo0]

Cookies and Flowers

Summary: Bakugo doesn't like Valentine's Day. But this year is different. tw's: none. just a little cliché Pairing: Bakugo x f!reader

Bakugo Katsuki despised Valentine's Day. 

He wasn't a big fan of all the chocolate on his desk. He didn't want his teeth to rot anyway. He found it annoying how all his friends, sidekicks and workers kept popping by his office to leave him cookies, chocolate and other sugary delights. He'd just grumble and dump them into the stash in his desk drawers.

It wasn't just the sweets that annoyed him. Everywhere he turned, he saw lovers on dates, holding hands, hugging, doing what lovers did. Usually, he paid no mind to it, but pushing thirty, the thought sometimes crossed his mind. He longed for the feeling of loving and being loved. It annoyed him.

But this year was different.

This year, he was secretly hoping to receive something from a certain someone. That certain someone being his secretary he hired around seven months back- you. Ever since you started working at his agency, he's been buying an extra cup of coffee on his way to work, finding little excuses to barge into your office with silly questions he already knew the answers to. 

He loved the way you fussed around him, scheduling his meetings, making sure he was on time everywhere, getting his documents ready, and organising the files. Just you minding your business and doing your job made him a mush.

So this year, he was okay with Valentine's.

After the patrol, he made sure to pass by your office to ask if he had any appointments or meetings. You were giving out chocolate to one of the sidekicks, a bright smile on your face. You caught his eye, giving him that big grin of yours that made his heart ache for you. When the sidekick left the room, Bakugo stepped in, walking over to your desk.

"Good morning, sir." You greeted.

"Mornin'. Told ya to call me Bakugo."

"I keep forgetting." You tried not to blush under the presence of your boss, looking away from his scarlet eyes, diverting your attention to your laptop screen instead.

"Do I have any meetings or appointments?" He asked. 

"Let me see," you bit your lip as you opened the calendar, looking into Bakugo's schedule. 

Bakugo was preoccupied by your lip being attacked by your teeth. He put a hand on the desk, leaning over, the other hand reaching to free your lip. Your head snapped up to him, your jaw almost dropping when he smirked at you and crossed his muscular arms across his chest. You gulped, quickly looking at your screen again, feeling the sleeping butterflies wake up.

"Um- looks like you don't have any meetings for now." You told him, forcing yourself to look up at him and give him a shaky smile. He gave you a plain 'okay' and stomped out of your office. 

You leaned back in your chair, bringing your fingers to your lips where his thumb once was. With a sigh, you half-heartedly went back to working on your laptop.

---

Bakugo felt childish. It was closing time, and he received a ton of chocolates, cards and sweets, but none of them were from you. He was aware you gave out chocolates to everyone at the agency. Why not him? Not that he got to complain. He didn't have the guts to give you the roses hiding in his locker.

He felt like a whiny middle schooler complaining about not receiving chocolate. He muttered a curse at himself and got up from his revolving chair. He had to make sure everyone left and then close the agency. He swung the door open, not expecting to see you standing there. 

"What are you doing here? It's closing time." He said after a few seconds of staring at you blankly. 

"Well... I baked some cookies for you last night." You said shyly, holding out a decorative cookie bag for him. He froze in place, eyes darting back and forth between you and cookies. He finally took the little bag from your hand, undoing the ribbon to see heart-shaped cookies with white frosting and pink lines. 

"Thanks," he scratched his cheek. Just the fact that you went through the trouble of baking him cookies made his chest feel warm and fuzzy. 

"Anytime." You smiled at him, turning to leave.

"Oi, wait." His voice stopped you. He went to the lockers in the corner of his office, unlocking it and pulling a big bouquet of roses. You gaped at it, your lips parting in disbelief. You were receiving flowers from your boss, also known as the number two hero you had a crush on.

"For me?" 

"No, they're for the wall behind you." A roll of red eyes. "F'course they're for you, dumbass."

You took the bouquet from him, looking up at him with a blush, half your face hidden behind the roses. "Thank you."

"It was nothing," he said, bringing a hand behind his head. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again, looking for the courage to say the words he wanted to say.

"We should finish closing." Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "I really love the flowers, by the way. Thank you again."

"Stop sayin' thanks over and over again." He grumbled, closing his office door and locking it, still holding the cookie bag. 

Together, you two switched the lights off and locked the doors before stepping outside the agency and locking the main door. The wind hit your face, bringing some of your hair onto your face. You pushed them back and glanced up at the tall pro hero, already looking at you.

"See you on Monday, then." You smiled.

"No."

"Wh-"

"Are you free tomorrow?" He asked, cutting your question short. 

"It's the weekend, so yeah." You replied.

"Okay. I'm taking you out tomorrow." He said, savouring your baffled reaction, a smirk dancing on his lips.

You were trying to figure out if he was asking you out on a date because that definitely wasn't asking- that was ordering. Either way, you weren't complaining. "S-sure. I'll be waiting."

"You better." He couldn't fight the smile creeping up on his face.

[hungharrington]

Could I request something from the prompt you reblogged:

“I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard/wet. Wanna hear about it?”

kitchen counters (kisses, and more)

this was hard to think of a sitch! it's a bit weird (?) but also a bit goofy at times, which i love and i hope u love anon! not any warnings needed, it's hot consensual sex except they don't use a condom but we know this is fiction and we should totally use those things irl. ok be safe and enjoy <3 2.8k words. minors do not interact.

It’s a bit of a strange morning, being here in Steve’s kitchen when you haven’t spent the night.

Not for lack of want, mind you. You hadn’t been able to is all, some family event that rolled way too late into the evening. And even though you know Steve would’ve come and picked you up if you asked, even at some point past midnight, you didn’t want to ask that of him. You knew he’d had a long day. Steve tried to insist he’d sleep better with you beside him.

“I don’t want you driving, s’all,” you said into the receiver last night, your tone apologetic. “It’s just, it’s late and you’re tired. I’ll come over in the morning, okay?”

“You promise?” Steve grumbled back. He never was in the chirpiest of moods when he went home to empty sheets. 

“Pinky.” 

And you followed through, driving over as soon as you could after your wake-up. Your own spare key lets you into the house and it’s only mildly surprising to find it quiet. The kitchen is empty, lights off. 

You think of your boyfriend, who must be still asleep upstairs, and take a couple steps up the stairs, and— ah, there it is. The sound of the shower. If you strain your ears, you can hear his faint rendition of a George Michael song. It makes you grin.

You head for the kitchen anyways, flipping on the lights as you go— it’s a bit later than Steve’s usually up but you’re willing to bet that without you there to bug him awake, he’s dozed past his usual alarm.

There are Eggos in the fridge, enough for both of you, and fill the toaster with them, pressing the lever down. You begin brewing the coffee, the scent of it percolating the air and it’s nearly ready by the time you hear Steve coming down the stairs.

He appears in the doorway, shower towel still hung around his shoulders, his chest bare. You automatically dip your gaze to drink up the sight of his chest, a mixture of love and lust competing in your chest. His hair is shaggy and wet. He’s scrubbing the back of it with the towel but he pauses, delighting at the sight of you.

“I thought I heard you,” He smiles easily, and you meet him in the middle when he comes over for a kiss. His hands circle your waist. You press up on your toes and hold his face gently, pressing your sweetest good morning onto his lips. Steve hums. His eyes are still closed when you pull back.

They flutter open and he smiles again, blindingly handsome. “Missed you last night,” he says, pulling you closer by your waist. “And this morning too.”

Your heart sings just a bit, your thumb stroking lovingly across his cheekbone. “I bet you did, handsome.”

Steve raises his brows like he thinks you don’t believe him and his hands slither down, nearing the curve of your ass as suggestiveness creeps in his tone. “Uh huh. Even had a dream about you last night.”

His head ducks into the curve of your neck, lips ghosting along your throat as he continues, voice still husky from his sleep. “Woke up hard.”

His body pressing into you confirms that his high-running hormones haven’t managed to dim in the time between his dream and now — his cock is half-hard, nudging against your thigh. You can’t help the way you shiver when he kisses your neck, wet and warm, and murmurs, “Wanna hear about it?”

He’s a bastard. That’s the first thought in your mind as his kiss turns harsher, suckling at the skin of your neck in a way that weakens your knees — he’s a bastard who knows exactly what he’s doing. Your hands slip from his jaw to his shoulders, clutching them a little tighter. You try to pull yourself together.

“Something tells me you’re gonna tell me anyways.” You remark, a pant already making your words sound a little gaspier.

Damn, he makes you needy. Your head falls back and you let him nibble along your neck, feeling your arousal sparking — and catching fire quick, burning low in your stomach.

“Mm, I could,” Steve replies, between his lovebites. His cock has gotten harder, his hips lightly grinding against you to work it the right way. You keen into his touches. “Or… I could show you?”

Your hands move to tug his face up, out of your neck, and you kiss him, hard. Steve groans appreciatively into the kiss, beginning to walk the two of you backward til his back hits the counter. He uses the leverage to pull you closer, his knee nudging between your thighs — your cunt pulses hotly as you grind down against his thigh, lust licking hot at your spine.

“Mhm, definitely…” Steve starts, words tumbling out between his kisses. His teeth scrape your bottom lip, tongue soothing along after. “Definitely started like this.”

“Oh yeah?” You huff, giving a pleasurable shudder when the seam of your jeans lines up just right, rubbing rough right on your clit. A breathy moan escapes you and pushes into Steve’s lips, sealed in your kiss.

Not breaking his kiss, Steve’s hands grip your hips, his knee nudging higher as he pulls down to grind on him again — another bolt of pleasure pulls a moan from you as you clench around nothing. For a hot minute, you two play this game; Steve dedicating himself to your bottom lip, kisses hot and hands wandering, while you rub against his thigh needily. You reach a breaking point eventually.

“Steve,” you pull back from your sloppy kiss to whine, unsure exactly what you’re asking from him.

Face more flushed than before, Steve eyes you hungrily, lips swollen from your steamy kisses. He pulls your hips forward once again, groaning at the reaction it gets him— another pitiful whine, your hands on his neck flexing.

“God, you’re a fuckin’ angel,” He muses, more to himself. He bites his lower lip and takes a second to compose himself before his fingers take a walk, eyes tracing the path they take along the edge of your jeans. Steve pauses at the button, eyes flicking up to your face, eyebrows raising an inch.

“Take ‘em off?” He asks.

“In the kitchen?” You counter, sounding a bit appalled. Not that you and Steve have ever been restricted to the bedroom, but, well….

The Eggos in the toaster pop right at that moment as if to prove your point. You and Steve's heads both whip to the side to look at it and there's a moment of silence. Steve giggles first and you join in quickly, leaning into him. The noise tapers off and when you look back to Steve, you think about the night you would've had if you hadn't been held back.

You don't owe it to him, but you certainly are eager to find out the contents of his dream.

Stepping back out of his hold, you pull your shirt off swiftly. Next, you unbutton your jeans and shimmy them down your legs, kicking them off. Your legs prickle in the sudden coolness. You enjoy the wide-eyed boyish joy on Steve's face maybe a bit too much. He clearly wasn't sure he'd convinced you.

“You did say you'd show me what happened in this dream." You say, hooking your thumbs into your panties, like you're about to work them down your legs next. You pause, tilt your head, the fire in your belly fueled by Steve's greedy gaze drinking you in, "Or do you want to be the one to take these off?"

Steve growls, stepping forward and capturing your lips with his. It's fast and messy, his lips taking and taking, hands raking fast across your body as he lets desire run free. One hand kneads at your breast, pinching lightly at the peaking nipple beneath your shirt, stirring up heat within you. The other hand delves down, down, pushes gently into your panties.

A gasp stutters out of you as he runs his middle finger along your slit, gathering the wetness welling from your entrance. The pad of his fingers drags your slick forward, searching for your clit and you're nearly embarrassed by the hiccupy whimpering noise you make when he finds it.

"There?" Steve says, though his finger has already started to circle it, treacherously slow motions. You nod, your hand slipping and grasping his bicep tightly, giving a sweet sigh of pleasure. "Oh, good girl."

The praise sinks into your skin and you can feel yourself getting wetter, another futile clench of your cunt around nothing.

"Y'think you can handle my cock?" Steve murmurs lowly, checking in with you. He meanly speeds up his soft rubs on your clit as he asks, nearly making it impossible to answer for a minute, but you manage another nod, swallowing your noises for a moment.

"Yes," You say, voice nearly a whisper. Your breathing comes out in soft little pants, chest heaving. "Yes, yes, please, Steve."

Steve hums, pulling his hand from your panties and reaching for his own pants, the buckle clinking as he undoes his belt clumsily. His jeans pool at his ankles, kicked off in the direction of your own, and for a moment, it makes you laugh — two pairs of crumpled jeans on your kitchen floor all because of Steve's horny sleeping brain.

"So," you say, glancing for a moment at his tenting boxers. It makes you salivate just a bit. "How do you want me? How did the dream go?"

You emphasize the word dream, bending over to rest your forearms on one of the counters, sticking your ass out behind you tantalizingly. Steve's eyes stare intensely, chest rising and falling as he steps closer — his hands fall onto your lower back, dragging down lightly, til his fingertips curl under the elastic of your panties.

"Mhmm," He drags them further, revealing the swell of your ass and hot cunt and releasing a resounding groan of appreciation. He sounds breathless when he says, "Just... fuck, just like this."

Your panties gather round your ankles and you step out of them. Behind you, you can hear the sound of his boxers dropping, one warm hand leaving your skin for just a second. It's back in an instant, both his hands shifting down again, spreading your cunt wide for him.

Steve lets out another raspy groan, one of his thumbs coming down to play in the well of slickness building at your hole — your head tips forward with a shaky pleasured sigh of relief.

"Oh, so wet for me already." He says, bordering a tease. You resist the urge to wriggle your hips, to push back and see if he'll relent and touch you more. "Already so messy, huh?"

His light tone of mock twines up your desire and tugs it harshly, your cunt clenching with a whine so loud you nearly don’t hear his chuckle. You're nearly dizzy with relief when the next touch is his cock, nudging against your hot entrance lightly. One hand holds your hip.

Steve goes easy, sinking into you tortuously slow til his thighs meet the back of yours, a sighing moan scraping out his throat as he does. You keen, a strained mewl pushing out your throat as you get filled— so full it aches deliciously, aches for more.

“Ste— fuck,” His name is stolen from your mouth in a gasp, your hands gripping the counter as he pulls his hips back slow, the drag so so fucking delectable. Shit.

Steve rolls his hips forward, pushing back in gently and he pauses again, giving you a moment — even as you tremble and huff out high little noises, clearly enjoying yourself. Warmth spreads across your back as he leans over, pressing himself against your back and his cock further in. There’s a soft kiss on your spine, then another.

“Fuck,” he breathes heavily, breath fanning across your back. He gives another leisurely roll of his hips, a gentle fuck into your heat. You can feel his cock twitch inside you as your cunt clamps down on him. Another whiney noise passes your lips, heat curling up tight in your lower tummy. “Fuck, s’like you’re made for me. Like this pussy was just made for me.”

“Stevie,” you plead, managing to get the word out this time. There’s another ghost of his lips along your skin, then his arm shifts, wriggling under your tummy. He scoops it around your middle, hand pushing up between your breasts to rest on your sternum. Still folded atop you, Steve finally begins to move, hips pumping his cock in and out, faster and faster.

You squeal, body humming like a livewire as Steve finally fucks you, the soft squelch of your cunt sucking him in filling the kitchen. Steve’s chest burns hotly where it’s pressed to your back and you can hear every grunt that pairs with the snap of his hips, his hand on your hip and his arm under you pulling you back to meet every thrust.

Your eyes slip closed, little uh, uh, uh’s coming from your pretty mouth mixed with whimpers of Steve’s name. You’re stretched up on your toes, trying to get the angle that only Steve has ever found. Your core is burning with desire, a throbbing growing in your clit.

“You’re- shit, you’re better than a dream, sweetheart.” Steve grunts, hips never slowing his motions. The stretch of his cock has gone by now but the shape of his hard cock feels like he’s moulding your insides — and you love it.

“Nothing beats this pussy, mm. Nothing,” He drags out the word with a groan, breath coming out in hot pants against your back. “Beats fucking my girl.”

You’re nodding, beginning to feel too fucked out to even think of words. Steve’s hand shifts your hips up and you know he’s looking for that spot inside you— because you can feel his grin against your spine when you whine loudly when the head of his cock finds it.

“Oh, is that the spot?” Steve asks, voice dripping in condescension. You nod frantically. He starts to bully it with his cock, every fast thrust hitting it over and over, til nothing but the melted words of more and please leave your mouth in a drooling ramble. You’re whimpering and whining, cunt drooling all over his cock, down your thighs.

“That’s it, honey.” The words come out a bit choppy like Steve’s own orgasm was rearing its head and his hand moves off your hip — deftly finding your clit. You make a pathetic moan of his name as he circles it harshly, quick circles with the pads of his fingers.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Steve— uh, fuck,” You’re spewing anything that comes to your brain, your hips rocking back to meet Steve’s hard thrusts instinctively as you chase your high.

“Shit, honey,” Steve moans, voice climbing higher and breathier. His hips begin to jackhammer, stuttering as his orgasm tips over — a whiney string of curses sung into your skin as he fucks into your wet, hot cunt, hot cum dribbling from his cock inside you.

You’re desperate now, teetering close to your own edge but not quite there. “Stevie, please,” you cry. His fingers on your clit which had slowed regain their speed, his hips picking back up as he begins his murmurs to you.

“C’mon, honey, you’re so close, can feel this pussy sucking me in.“ He whispers hotly, his hand on your sternum moving to grope at your breast, fingers twisting at your nipple. “Want you to cum for me, okay? Please fucking cum for me.”

You don’t get a lot of choice with his cock drilling into you, pushing that sweet spot enough that your orgasm finally builds and melts — a strangled whiney moan of his name warbles out of you, instantly met with Steve’s praises, murmurs of how good you are for him. It feels like every nerve is alight, turning over and pulsing as the waves of pleasure ride out in your body.

You exhale, trying to catch your breath as you half melt into the counter, finally lowering off your tiptoes as you relax in the post-haze. Steve eases his cock out of you, the quietest wince, and you give yourself another minute before you drag yourself up, beginning to look for your abandoned panties. A thought strikes you.

“So,” you pant, leaning back against the counter; you’ll definitely need to sanitise that later. Steve’s rescued his boxers, tugging them up as he raises his brows to indicate he’s listening to your question. “How’d we do on the dream recreation?” You ask.

Steve grins cheekily. “Oh, in my dream we fucked on the couch.”

[oceantornadoo]

hiiiii, i just read your annoying military neighbor story with price and… lord help me cause if that’s not my favorite scenario then i don’t know what is. it’s so good. and i think your set up is very tasty it’s got that juice. so i come asking for a full fledged long (as long as you wish it be) and angsty (as angsty as you wish it be) fic based on it. it would be a delight. please.

anyway, love you have a good timezone ✨👍🏻

you are so lovely i love asks like this!!! i tried to keep the politics very general since john’s british but as an american, i also have very complicated issues with our military. also the angst turned into cockwarming, not sure how that happened…

—

it had been a week of you sleeping at john’s before you came to your senses. a week of knocking at his door, ignoring his eye contact, and slinking in like a guilty cat. a week of falling asleep on his lap to the soothing sounds of his tv and waking up in his bed, one thick hairy arm a chain around your waist. you’d always dipped out as fast as possible, needing to get to work, but today was a saturday, so you blissfully luxuriated in his soft bed and warm presence.

john felt like he was walking on eggshells. you’d show up when no one could see you and walk out before the world was awake. of course, it was the best sleep of his life. funny from a man who just wanted to sleep alone after sharing tents and safe houses with his men. something about you on his lap, practically purring, or you underneath him, protected, sent him to sleep like no other drug could. he couldn’t take a week of no conversation so today, he was determined to woo you.

when you got up, john was nowhere to be found. you followed the delicious scent of pancakes to his kitchen, his back turned to you as he focused on his stove. you took in his back muscles for a moment then turned your gaze to his walls, this being the first time you'd looked at them in the morning light. the sights of medals, pictures in camo gear, and congratulations notes assaulted you, guilt gathering low in your stomach. you could see the blood staining him in a few pictures, a visual to how freely he treated other humans through the nature of his job. now there was a sour taste in your mouth, the smell of pancakes suddenly nauseating.

"hungry?" john finally acknowledged your presence, figuring he could lure you in with food. instead he saw your spine straighten, lips pursing as you turned your gaze towards him. shit. "no, im fine. gonna get going, lots of errands to do." you made to move out of his line of sight and on instinct he burst towards you, stopping you with a hand on your arm. "stay." your eyes flicked to his walls again, then back to him. "your pancakes are burning, john. thanks for the offer but i need to go." he swore under his breath as he turned to shut the stove off, moving the burnt pan off the heat. guess he needed to up his game to keep you. "y' need your key, sweetheart." he was back in front of you with a grin, hand patting his back pocket. you rolled your eyes, reaching forward to grab at it as he took a step back. the action was childish, absolutely too young for a man of his age and level in the military, and yet, here he was.

“don’t think i can’t see past you, john. you can’t order me around like one of your soldiers.” so that’s what had been bothering you. he’d seen it in glimpses: anti war buttons on your bag, heard your loud conversations with fellow activists through the walls, the guilt in your eyes every time you showed up at his door. he’d thought you just disliked the bachelor pad, his men watching football with the volume up; but it was more than that. your dislike for his job ran deep.

“somethin’ you wanna talk about, love?” his voice was low and threatening, abandoning the childishness that had overcome him. this is why he didn’t mess with civilians - their “morals” not adapted to the realities of the battlefield. of course, you and those eyes had rendered his rule useless, and now he was paying for it. “not particularly.” your eyes shifted, ignoring his. he didn’t like to stand over you, wasn’t one of those men who needed to swing his cock around to get a woman to pay attention, but you always made him work for it. his hand grasped your jaw, tugging you forward to meet his torso, your pelvises brushing. “say it.”

“i don’t like what you do for work, okay? i respect you’re sacrificing everything for your country but i hate that you’re carrying out orders for people pushing senseless wars and countless deaths. i don’t like that the laws don’t apply to you.” he huffed. finally. “you think i like killin’? the blood on my hands stains everythin’ i touch. and bein’ in charge, telling my men to do the same? but it’s fuckin’ necessary an’ if i don’t do it, a worse man will.” you turned away, cheek brushing his torso.

“i know you’re not at the top, not in the politics, but i also know you’re fucking up there, john. you’re not some grunt worker, you’re conscious of the shit you do!” fucking minx, you had taken your keys out of his pocket when he wasn’t paying attention. you backed away towards the door, his body suddenly freezing without you. “i’m sorry. i can’t.” you were grabbing your stuff, toeing your shoes, and out the door before he couldn’t blink.

it had been a week and you were miserable. circles under your eyes, constantly yawning at work. couldn’t catch more than a few hours without sleeping in john’s arms, the thought of it closing your throat. it was a lonely friday night and you were hibernating in your living room, the farthest room from the wall you shared with john. your food delivery was late, again, so when you heard the heavy knock at your door, you jumped out of the position on your couch. “i don’t want to be that person but i was supposed to get my food thirty - oh. hi john.”

he looked worse than you felt. with his overgrown beard and tired eyes, it was like he’d aged ten years before your eyes. “can i come in?” you nodded and saw your takeaway in his proffered hand. in spite of yourself you smiled, and the grin he gave you in return rewinded that aged look in an instant. john took in the sight of your apartment as he took off his shoes and took the food out of the bag. sure enough, a few signs demanding peace crowded your walls, mixed with art and music. it felt too intimate for him to be here. his apartment was simply a place to rest between deployments but this, this was your home. the thought of not seeing it for a while quickly dampened his mood.

“what’s wrong?” you asked through a stuffed face, too impatient to wait for him to start eating. you guided him towards your couch, the both of you taking a moment to eat the food you ordered in amicable silence. “i ship out in a week. be gone a month, maybe more. just didn’t want-“ he never got to finish his sentence, too busy catching you as you launched yourself on his lap, food forgotten. “john. i’m sorry. i-“ he shushed you with a glimmer in his eyes. “don’t apologize for speakin’ your mind, love. ‘specially to me.” you nodded, pulling back to meet his gaze. “doesn’t mean i’m not sorry.” he grinned. “me too.”

“what are we doing, john?” he shook his head, kissing your forehead. “whatever we want, as long as it ends with you in my arms. my sleep was shite this week.” you giggled. “me too. pretty sure i fell asleep standing one day.” he turned serious again. “you can ask me questions. just don’t run away from me again. got it, love?” his hands on your hips, pulling you closer til your pelvises kissed. the feel of his hardness under your pajamas, the forcefulness of his eye contact, the baritone of his voice; it made you squirm, a familiar build in your stomach. “ok.” you said a bit breathlessly, trying to hold back your moans as you focused on his t shirt instead of his face. john jutted his hips up, catching your clothed clit at the perfect angle.

“john.” you moaned, practically a whine. “you like being ordered around, sweetheart? quite a walking contradiction.” he saw your nipples stiffen under your thin shirt, warmth building up your neck to your cheeks. “look at these. practically begging for it.” he mouthed one over your shirt, tongue tracing the outline of your nipple. you started writhing in his lap, grinding back and forth on the imprint of his fat cock trapped under his jeans. you were halfway to orgasm already, the slow grind turning up the pressure, your walls clenching in anticipation. he reached a hand to your neck, keeping you in place with a strong grip. “keep fucking yourself on my lap, love. just like that. can feel you getting closer.” he switched his mouth to the other nipple, licking and sucking and swallowing. your shirt was practically transparent due to his ministrations, the feel of it like a tether pulling at your core. “more, john, more.” he squeezed your neck and bit your nipple at the same time, the sensation of being utterly controlled so appealing you came in his lap. waves ran through you as the clenching became hard than soft, eventually making you boneless in his lap.

“wanna fuck you but i’m so tired.” you sniffed into his neck, back in the position that had led you both here. “i’ll jus’ put it in, love, an’ you can go to sleep. alright?” you nodded against his skin. john pushed aside your pajama shorts, reveling at the touch of your wet heat. another time. he pulled out his cock, beads of precum rolling down, then slipped it into you with ease, your previous orgasm and overwhelming tiredness making you putty in his arms. “so big.” you yawned. “so tired. just give me an hour and…” you trailed off, asleep once again in his arms, back where you belonged.

[trendywaifus]

I’ll do you one better and plant the little teeny seed of Anby walking in (unintentionally…or was it) on Nicole straight up in a session with the reader…her thighs pressing hard down on there hehe

mmm, i think it’d be funny to have billy walk instead😭 cw: gn! reader, suggestive themes

“ you’ve been on that computer damn near all morning, (name). “ your girlfriend grumbles, strutting into your shared room with her, arms crossed over her chest. you say nothing for a few moments, typing and typing away on the keyboard. you didn’t even turn around to acknowledge her presence. her brow twitch with annoyance. matter-a fact, you barely said anything or interacted with anyone this morning! all you did was wake her up with a good morning kiss and mutter to her that you’ve made breakfast for everyone and hopped straight onto the computer. you didn’t even show up for breakfast despite telling her you were going to!

“ (name). “

click, clack, clack, clack, click. were you ignoring her?

nicole let’s out an irritated grunt before growling your name through gritted teeth.

“ (name)! “

instantly, you perk up, finally rotating your chair around to look at her. your eyes skim over her annoyed body language and raised a puzzled brow at her. “ yes, baby? did you and the others eat breakfast yet? “

agitated by your lack of awareness, nicole huffs irritably, holding back the urge to come over and smack the living daylights out of you. “ don’t baby me! i was trying to talk to you for the past minute! you were suppose to come eat with us but you didn’t show up! what were you doing on that computer anyways? “

guilt flashes across your face before you cast her an apologetic smile. “ i didn’t mean to ignore you. i figured skipping out on breakfast would help us save food for this week. i was actually trying to create a budget and manage our savings for this month, c’mere. “ you beckon her with a finger and she walks over to you with curious eyes to take a closer look. nicole’s quiet as she inspects the little project you were making.

“ i was also trying to fix up our website’s layout to look more professional so—“

“ you dummy, “ nicole mutters softly, lightly smacking the back of your neck before stroking it tenderly. “ i can do all of this. you don’t have to do this—that, managing our money, our website, and purposely skip out on breakfast for us to—“

“ but i wanted to. “ you gingerly pull nicole into her lap, holding onto to her hips. “ don’t worry, it’s just a meal. you handle everything so i wanted to lessen the load off your shoulders. plus, you’re pretty bad with handling money—“

“ i am not. “ she denies sheepishly, loosely wrapping her arms around your neck, cheeks turning a subtle red. you lean into her with a teasing smile, your chest pressing up against hers.

“ are so. mostly because my boss is such a kind person. “ you lean in closer and closer until your nose gently grazes nicole’s and her soft breath mingling with yours.

“ wh-what do you know about your boss? “ she questions softly, you circle nonexistent shapes into her hipbones.

“ enough. buying those orphan kids toys, paying me and the others more than what’ll you have for yourself, dare i say more? “

a noise similar to a grunt leaves her. instead of stammering and arguing back, she grumpily pouts. “ i’m sick and tired of you thinking you know me.” her tone sounds anything but annoyed.

you giggle, playfully puckering your lips at her. “ i’m sorry, kiss? “

“ ugh, you’re such a mess. don’t ask me for a kiss and do that. “ nicole murmurs, lowered hazel hues peering into yours. you chuckle and take it upon yourself to kiss her lips. the taste of her cherry lip balm makes you hum with delight. nicole kisses back, firm and languid. your palms feel up her curvy sides and she holds your jaw in place with one hand while the other is hanging off your shoulder.

“ from now on, i’ll handle the budget and the money you give to me is shared between us. but, that doesn’t mean to go spend it all so carelessly.“ you mutter between soft kisses, nibbling on her plump bottom lip. she gives your jaw a light squeeze as acknowledgment, mismatch colored-nails gently digging into the flesh.

“ fine, i’ll agree to that. “ she’s more focused on your careful hands touching her body like an expensive vase. you’re treating her as if she’s worth over 3,000,000 dennies. don’t even get her started on your one million denny kisses. she exerts her weight down on your lap, earning a muffled groan from you.

“ what are you doing? “ you ask breathlessly, moving your head to the side to moan when nicole does it again.

“ awarding you for being my most loyal employee~”she purrs confidently in your ear, kissing the shell of your ear before descending. she plants sweet, open-mouth kisses down the column of your neck. your hands grasp for the fleshy part of her thighs to withstand her assault. “ nic—colee. .” you drawl and nicole finds herself grinding her ass down, wanting more of her name to drag deliciously off of your tongue.

“ blame yourself for riling me up like this and it’s barely noon. it’s only fair i get to do this. “ nicole tuts, sliding her tongue over a sensitive spot on your neck that she knows you’re weak too. her hand drags down your chest and stomach with the intention of slipping under your shirt to feel the warmth of your bare skin. before she can go further, the door creaks open and billy peeks his head out. you and nicole immediately freeze up. “ boss? (name)? where are you? we have to get ready—oh good heavens! “ billy apologizes frantically for his intrusion once he discovers the situation you and nicole are in. fuming with frustration, nicole angrily snatch the wireless mouse from the desk and hurls it at billy’s head and he quickly slams the door shut just in time for the mouse to end up crashing into the wall, destroying it. she’s just about ready to jump up from your lap and chase after him but you hold her back.

“ BILLY, HOW ABOUT YOU KNOCK ON THE DOOR FIRST BEFORE YOU BARGE INTO MY ROOM, YOU’RE SO GOING TO GET IT, YOU BIG DUMMY!”

“ N-NICOLE, MY MOUSE! “

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Alt Assistant AU Pt 6 NSFW

Under the cut!

The morning after their first tryst, anxiety churns in Kara's gut. Looking at Lena's sleeping form beside her, spread and open and relaxed as though she hasnt a care in the world, she wonders if this will be a one time thing. A singular supernova of two bodies colliding before spiralling off into the expanse, never to meet again.

She needn't have worried.

Lena wakes with a purr and a smile, leaning in for a sour kiss before throwing her leg over Kara's waist and levering herself upright. Being knelt over gives Kara a full unobstructed view of Lena's full, rounded breasts, pierced nipples and all. Her mouth goes dry.

"Last night was..." she rasps, not quite sure what word could possibly encompass the experience. All she knows is that she wants more. More and more and more, until Lena consumes her entirely.

A dark eyebrow lifts. "Was....?" Lena prompts teasingly.

"Unbelievable," Kara offers. "Euphoric. Rapturous--"

Lena curls down and kisses her again.

"Intoxicating," Kara sighs when she can breathe again.

Gaze turning soft, Lena regards her from above.

"Last night, you asked me how many times I've thought of this." Green eyes watch her closely. "How often have YOU thought about this?"

"Fucking?" Kara says brashly. "Not as often as being with you. Close to you. I..."

She trails off, suddenly uncertain. Being Lena's assistant, effectively invisible in so mundane a role, has given her confidence. Without having to either hide herself or set an example or embody an ideal, Kara knows she's thrived in a way she never had in the previous reality. But now... being so near to Lena pulls the rug out from under her, leaving her feeling unsteady.

"What?" Lena asks gently. Her head tilts slightly, and Kara thinks she sees genuine care in her features.

"I don't want this to be one time thing."

Lena's lips curl in a barely constrained smile, delight appeared bright and sudden. "Well, then..." she says, her voice all but rumbling. "I suppose it's a good thing I have no intention of letting you go any time soon."

----

Life after that remains relatively the same. In the office anyway. Kara is just as attentive as she's always been, seeing to Lena's every need and many of her wants as well. She brings all of her knowledge of Lena to bear, and she knows Lena is a little surprised at how well she can "guess" what Lena likes and doesn't like.

But as soon as they log off for the night, and go their separate ways at the doors of the LuthorCorp building, all bets are off. They always come back together at Lena's apartment-- Kara uses her speed to arrive before Lena, and simply hides herself a reasonable amount of time before knocking on Lena's door.

They fuck. A lot. Not a single surface in the apartment is safe from their ravenous hunger for each other. For the briefest moment of time, Kara worries that her desire may be one sided, but when she bides her time to let Lena set the pace, Lena's come for her just as ardently.

But as the days pass into weeks, their trysts ease from need to comfort. Their escapades are punctuated by take out meals on the couch in varying states of undress, and light conversation about each other's histories. Kara uses what she knows of herself in this reality and makes up the rest, and Lena reveals what Kara couldn't find online.

Her broken heart at boarding school, her brief shame in her sexuality before she embraced it out of spite for her bigoted mother. Her knowledge of her mother, slightly more than Kara remembers her knowing-- that she'd been a folk singer in a small town before moving to the city to make a better life for Lena. How her mother had died-- cancer, instead of drowning.

Some happy memories too, of her early days with the Luthors-- more than before but still too few-- before Lionel had died in her teenage years.

Her desire to do good, even under the watchful attention of her brother, who sees only profit.

When the weeks pass into over a month, Kara allows herself to believe this might last. That she might be allowed to keep Lena in her life forever. Until one day Lex Luthor himself appears in Lena's office.

She and Lena are just returning from another meeting, and Lena immediately addresses her brother with a warm welcome, preventing Kara from needing to interact with him directly. She pretends not to feel the heat of his glare as she exits to return to her own desk.

As she sits, Kara casts her hearing through the wall between them, listening closely as they exchange pleasantries that seem friendly enough. But it's not long before Lex's tone sharpens.

"I was surprise to hear you'd become a cliche, ace."

The silence that follows is frigid as Lena stiffens.

"Screwing your assistant?" Lex smirks. "Come on."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you and dad had cornered the market on diddling the secretary."

Lena's response is cool and measured, but it kicks Kara in the gut like a mule. She almost misses the darkening of Lex's tone.

"Don't be snide..."

"Oh, but your hypocrisy makes it so easy." Lena huffs. "Jesus Lex. I never gave you grief about Eve, or even Mercy. What gives you the right--"

"I own this company!" Lex barks. "Everything you do is a reflection of me and our name. It's time you remember that."

"As if you'd let me forget--"

"I let you have your little pet projects, let you use company funds for your silly outreach ideas, and you do this?!" Lex takes a breath, letting it out in a huff of feigned sympathy.

"We have rules against this sort of thing, ace, and they're in place for a reason. If you choose to continue, and the board catches wind of it, I won't be able to protect you."

This time, Lena doesn't respond. A quick glance with her x-ray vision shows Kara the inevitable slump of Lena's shoulders.

Lex's senses his victory. "Think about it," he says. "I know you'll do the right thing."

When Lena still doesn't say anything, Lex takes his leave. The smirk he shoots Kara on his way says everything. She's lost.

Later that night, Kara enters Lena's office on quiet feet to go over the next day's schedule. When she finishes, Kara pauses.

"Do you need anything else before I leave?"

A subtle prompt for Lena to leave too, despite the paperwork spread on the desk promising that Lena has no intention of calling it quits.

"I have some proposals to review," Lena says quietly without looking up. "I won't be home until quite late."

"I can stay--"

"No," comes the clipped response. "I have what I need."

Kara grits her teeth, trying not to let her hurt show. She leaves with a nod, forcing herself not to look back until the door shuts behind her. Only then does she turn to peer through the wall, and witness the sad features Lena covers with both hands, elbows resting on the desk.

Scowling, Kara turns on her heel and heads home.

[legobiwan]

I want to spend a moment talking about Ford's relationship with alcohol and how it ties back to both his social isolation and relationship with Bill. Warning, there's no real thesis to this post, but I do want to explore the concrete tidbits we get in so-called 'canon.'

Before Ford meets Bill, it's more or less stated that Ford doesn't really drink - maybe on occasion (high school/college shenanigans and such) and in small amounts, but never to excess. To do so would be to lose control of both his intellect and actions, and we all know Ford loves to try and exert control over his environment.

And then Bill comes around with this proposition:

"How about I mix you a drink to make it up to you? It's called the 'Myoclonic Jerk' and it can get you loaded in your sleep. Salvador Dali loved 'em!" "I was flattered but politely declined - I'm not much of a drinker."

Well, we know how that turned out.

Long-standing crush/obsession peer pressures you into drinking and you give in, finally able to slough off your many, many inhibitions for a delightful evening of...well, we're not exactly sure what happened but we're kind of sure via insinuation. (And let's be honest. The man did build a literal shrine to Bill, a point which I feel we're ignoring in the whole Bill-crying-over-his beer-because-he-got-dumped fiasco).

Anyway, Bill feels awkward. Ford feels awkward. They get cosmically smashed and then whatever happens, happens, but there's no reason this is considered a negative event considering Ford's escalating shrine and Bill's consistent fixation.

Fast-forward to the Krampus incident.

"He asked if I was finally coming around on holidays, or if this was just to keep the Krampus from coming back. I told him it was time to drink nog until we couldn't remember what a Krampus was."

I don't think Ford's referring to virgin egg nog here.

This is fascinating shift for a man who claims he doesn't really drink not all that long ago. There has to have been enough positive reinforcement for Ford to default to suggesting getting blackout drunk again for him to even bring this up. (The last time ended up with him and Bill doing something...good - he thinks. Ford doesn't want to consider the Krampus and how he insinuated that Ford was a callous, lonely man who cared for no one by not offering 'holiday cheer' to others. He might even feel that his natural anxiety and 'oddness' dissipate when he's drunk - a common enough rationalization for people with social anxiety/issues finding a social home. Hell, it might even be a fragment of what could be attraction to Fiddleford that he's working through the same unhealthy way Bill did with him).

This isn't the last time Ford gets plastered in canon.

"I was so excited that we [Ford and Jheselbraum] spent the entire night partying and drinking Cosmic Sand - the very same kind Time Baby himself consumes. When I awoke the next morning, she was gone and I was in another dimension entirely."

Again, I don't think Cosmic Sand is a Dasani bottle in this universe. Ford waking up in a whole new dimension with no idea how he got there is more than enough evidence, not to mention the fact the Oracle used to run with Bill's gang of Henchmaniacs and Ford himself outwardly states that they (him and Jheselbraum) 'party,' which is amazing for a man who was so socially tortured for so long. (But there is something to be said for being a freak in a situation where you know you'll be a freak. For example, living abroad in a country you have no chance of fitting in due to the way you look. You accept that you're going to be perceived as weird and that takes a certain amount of pressure off you, although it doesn't really help if and when you go back home. I have the feeling Ford experienced something similar on the other side of the Portal, and aside from not being able to kill Bill, it may have contributed to some of his bitterness upon coming back to Gravity Falls. Because at the end of the day, you can't run from yourself, and Ford had been running for a long, long time).

Funny enough, this habit doesn't seem to cease even after Ford comes back through the Portal, the most notable moment being after Stan and Ford are captured by Bill while the kids run off on a - as Ford so aptly puts - 'suicide mission.'

I would bet good, legal currency that this isn't water. Why even include it in the animation - in a set of episodes that were already constrained in terms of time and plot - without good reason? The fact that he passes his canteen to Stan afterwards is telling.

They're bracing themselves.

Now, why Ford had this on him before the surprise Weirdmaggedon (and that has to be when he equipped it, as he was in captivity throughout the rest of the timeline up to the point where the Shacktron and Stan/Mabel/Dipper freed the Gravity Falls citizens) - well, that's anyone's guess.

Addiction? Wanting to feel something the way he did so many years ago? Trying to bury a fuckton of emotional issues, including the nature of his relationships with Bill and Fiddleford? (He is a child of 1960s New Jersey, and that is bound to fuck you up). Too much time spent hanging around Rick Sanchez in the multiverse? (Not out of the realm of possibility).

I've seen a few fanfics touch on this topic and I don't think it's that much of a stretch to consider that Ford - for many, many reasons - may have developed an unhealthy relationship with alcohol, not solely, but at least partially due to Bill's initial influence and that first true influenced moment possibly resulting in a scenario where Ford would be able to drop so many of his barriers and, for once, (in his mind), be a human who is worthy of acceptance without needing to prove and justify his existence through achievement and accolades.

Anyway, this would be great fodder for Stan O'War II content, especially considering the massive guilt complex/hair shirt Ford dons after the whole Weirdmageddon event.

[kentoshousewife]

shower sex with nanami pt2...-> part one here!

tags; nsfw, 18+, smut OBV.

wc. 894 (short af ugh!)

writing for hubby nanamin again i just love him.

it was the wee hours of a dreaded monday morning and nanami had woken up a little earlier than his set alarm, which doesn't happen too often but it's not an unnatural occurrence. he figured he might as well use the extra time to leisurely get ready for the day. slowly sitting up, trying not to wake you, nanami gets out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom connected to your shared bedroom.

he makes precise work of brushing his teeth while running the shower, waiting for it to become a decent temperature. hopping into the shower once it was suitable, he let the water run down his body, the pressure of the shower head feeling heavenly.

~~

you barely feel the bed shift as nanami gets up, but it wakes you out of your sleep anyway. you don't mind the disturbance, you don't have anything to do or anywhere to be, so there's no problem with rising a little early.

after a few seconds of rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you realize the shower is running. kento must've woken up early. you grin to yourself as a mischievous smile graces your lips so early in the morning.

stripping from your silk nightgown you make your way to the bathroom, opening the door. "ken.." you call out, "can i join you?" you ask just loud enough for him to hear over the running water.

"of course pumpkin, c'mon" he hums sweetly.

you push the curtain just enough for you to fit through and climb into the shower with a soft giggle. nanami swiftly rinses the soap from his body before turning to you. grabbing your hips, he turns you so you're now under the shower head.

you sigh in satisfaction at the warm water cascading down your body slightly sore from the night before. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, scratching the hair at the nape of his neck with your manicured fingernails. figuring since he has a little time before actually needs to start getting ready for work, you could have some fun with him. fortunately for you, nanami has the same thought.

~~

that's how you ended up stuffed full of your husband's fat cock so early in the morning. nanami held up one of your legs, spreading you open so he had an ample amount of room to fuck you until tears started gathering in your eyes. the tips of your toes on your other leg were barely touching the shower floor, he may as well have been carrying you.

the position he had you in let him reach the depths of your pussy, you could feel him in your stomach, and if you looked down, you were sure you'd be able to see him as well.

nanami confirmed your suspicions, looking down at you as he fucked the remaining drowsiness out of you, he saw the bulge of his cock poking your belly from the inside. he felt himself twitch wildly inside you at the sight. he took the liberty of pressing down on the bulge.

the action made your back arch while your nails scratched down his own, it sent electricity all throughout your body, ending at your toes.

the feeling of you clenching around him like a vice had his moans echoing throughout the bathroom.

"fuck, your cunny's so delightful pumpkin" he praised, "you feel good baby?"

you could barely speak, your brain practically turned to mush. "daddy feel s'good." you whimper, "g'nna make a mess".

you tried to warn him of your impending orgasm but you're pretty sure he could tell from how much you were clenching around him.

"i know honey, me too" he moves one of his hands to rub your clit in tight circles, "m'gnna fill you up so nice" he promises, "you wan' it?"

"yes daddy please, please" you beg repeatedly, yet unnecessarily. he could never say no to you, you deserve everything and more, the least he could do was give you the best orgasms of your life.

the pleasure his thick cock and his rough fingers were giving you brought you to your peak, "shit!" nanami moaned into the crook of your neck as he came rope after thick rope inside of you. the feeling of him feeling you up with his cum triggering your release completely.

"ohhh m'god" you squeal in delight. nanami sucks dark purple hickies into your brown skin while massaging the plushness of your thighs as you both try to come down from your reeling orgasms.

eventually, your legs were only slightly trembling instead of vigorously shaking like before, you two got cleaned up and dressed in the clothes you would begin your day in.

going down to the kitchen, you started a pot of coffee and breakfast, checking the clock to see how much time you had left to spend with your man before he had to depart for the day. seeing you had time to finish cooking and eat comfortably without rushing, you found yourself wishing you could start every morning like this.

nanami came around the corner and wrapped his arms around your waist as you moved around the kitchen, stuck to you like white on rice. the two of you spend the rest of your morning together eating breakfast and showering each other with soft kisses and words of affection.

kentoshousewife notes;

choso,,satoru,,yuuta,,so many choices. also i had no idea how to end this. i love him i wanna kiss him and have his babies.

(not proofread surprise surprise).

asks | chat with kentoswife

[lovelywritinglady]

Tengen +wives x reader

When the reader comes for a abusive household as a kid and suffers from depression and PTSD and has flashbacks often (like for example if it gets too loud or when she sees any type of violence) she has a breakdown she has a natural tendency to run as far away as possible to find her safe place (her room Tengen gives reader her own bedroom for when this happens) she sometimes forgets that she has a husband and wives she sometimes mistakes them for her parents and thinks they are going to do something to her (what Tengen and his wives are trying to do is to calm her down but nothing is working they give her some space they decide to get her favorite food and just forgets what happens) when they get back to their house reader is no longer in their room but in the backyard and has the most beautiful set up for dinner and wants to apologize for making a scene in public and want to make up because sometimes she feels like a burden because of the problems that she has but reassures reader they she is not a burden in anyway.

You’re Not A Burden

Tengen x wives x fem!reader

Angst, mentions of mental health issues, triggering subjects, fluff, and reassuring themes. Tengen and the wives are the literal best! Rough language and slight physical violence.

Your Pov

The morning was crisp and clear with a slight feel of dew that has kissed the evergreen grass. I normally wake up earlier than the rest of my loves and make their food and start fixing the house from the night before. I do this to feel useful and to help out as much as I can considering the fact that I'm not a shinobi nor am I a demon slayer. Hell, I'm not really sure who I am except the fact that I'm in love with four people that are so strong and skilled. However, most of the time I'm terrified that they will push me away and throw me out. My father and mother did that a few years ago. They claimed that I was nothing a no one would ever want me and that I would die on the streets. I believed them until my husband Tengen came along and took me into his home. I then met his wives and all of us somehow fell in love. I'm forever grateful for their love and care.

Taking a deep brethe of the morning air I smiled with delight before making my way into the house to make breakfast for everyone. As I walked in I was already met with Makio and Suma making a fuss just like they do every morning. As Tengen and Hina were sitting at the table drinking their tea that I had prepared this morning. I smiled at my family starting on breakfast.

"Y/n, good morning my dear!" My sweet husband beamed at me.

"Yes, good morning love." Hina chimed in.

"Good morning everyone, food will be served shortly." I responded with a loving smile.

The other two that paused their bickering, looked at me and immediateky went to my side. "Can we help?" they both said in unison quite loudly which startled me a bit.

"No, its okay, I can manage. But thank you so much!" I beamed at them tying not to seem nervous.

"Are you sure?" Suma asked blinking her eyes adorably.

"Yes, I'm sure." I reassured her and she just smiled and went to the table along with Makio and sat themselves next to Tengen.

After a few short moments breakfast was served and my loves began digging in, but not before blessing the food and giving me thanks. I smiled at their gratitude and began eating my meal with them. And as if on cue, Suma and Makio began bickering which always made me nervous, but at this point I was use to it. That was until all hell broke lose when Suma accidentially moved in the wrong way which caused Maikio to bump into Tengen. He then moved himself out of the way which made him knock his tea on his lap that made him jump up and knock his plate along with the spilled tea cup onto the floor making a very loud crashing sound.

"You idiots, stop messin around. You made me spill the tea and food all over the fucking placsutbbornee. Be more careful!" Tengen roared loudly as he sat back down sighing as he did.

Suma and Makio were frantically apologizing and Tengen was scoulding for their clumisness, Hina was looking at me and asking me things. However, for some reason, I couldn't hear her nor the bickering that was happening at the end of the table. My breathing was heavy and it felt as though my entire being was shrouded in a storm cloud. My eyes felt heavy with tears and I'm sure I was making a face. All of it was too much and I abruptly left the room as my anxieties got too much. I ran as fast as I could to my room, locking the door as I did. I tried slowing my breathing and different methods of calming myself that I have learned over the years. However, none of that was effective as I soon found myself rembering that horrible day. The day that I was so sure would be my last day. The day my father and mother told me that I was nothing and that it would have been better if I was just dead. My mother always went on about how her body was ruined because of me and how I would never amount to anything. All of these words were echoing in my mind now. My body shook and my breathing was worse now. It felt like the air was filled with thick smog. I put my hands over my ears trying to block out the noises.

Suddenly, I felt large hand touch my shoulders and my head shot up and I saw a blurry figure trying to talk to me. I immediately retreated back screaming at the figure. "Go away! Leave me alone!" The figure walked closer and images of my father flashed through my mind and at that moment I concluded that it was him. He found me even after I had run away from him and my mother. 'Oh God was she here?' I though to myslelf. I began frantically searching the room in search of her too. As if on cue, a female figure walked into the room as well. I screamed again thinking that the figure must be her. "PLease I didn't do anything! Mom please I'm sorry don't hate me dad!" I whailed pushing myself against the wall trying to get away from them. It was all too much the fiugres getting closer and their bpoices getting clearer. As soon as I realized that the blurred figures were the loves of my life. I felt relieved as I then passed out from pure exhaustion.

When I woke up I was alone in my room surrounded by darkness. My throat felt dry and I tried calling out at something yet nothing came out. After gathing some of my strength I walked out into the kitchen to find it empty. However, a pitcher with water and a small plate of cookies were placed next to it along with a note. I sat down and poured myself a large glass of water and chugged it. I smiled at the care my loved ones show. I took small bites of the cookies savoring every delicious bite nearly crying at how good they were. I then remembered the note and carefully unfolded it. It read, "Y/n, we love you and were are so sorry that you had a hard day today. You've gotten so much better at managing your tramua and we are so very proud of you. Tomorrow all of us are going to the festival of flowers in the afternoon. You are more than welcome to join us! And please kmow that you do not need to talk about what happened if you don't want to. If you decide you want to, we are all here for you. We love you so much! With love, Tengen, Hina, Makio, and Suma." To say I was balling my eyes out was a complete understatement. I hated when my meltdowns happened but, their love and compassion for me was truly unmatched. Most of the time I question why I deserve them as much as I do. I decided right then and there that a little date outing would be nice and might be just what I need after today. So, I finished my delicious food, cleaned up, and went back to my room for some much needed rest before tomorrow.

The next day, I woke up around the same time I always do to fix my loves their tea and breakfast. However, I was met with the tea already made and all four of my lovers making breakfast. I chuckled at the sight of them attempting to make breakfast. They all turned to me and smiled telling me that brekfast was nearly done and to enjoy the tea that was set out. To my surprise, the tea was delicous and was the perfect mixtiure of sweet and bitter, just the way it should be. I complimented the tea and as soon as I did Tengen boasted that he had made it all by himself and to that I, of course, thanked him graciously. Its not everyday that the sound hashira himself makes people tea. Soon enough the food was ready and again it was good and I wondered to myself I they really needed me to cook for them everyday considering they can make such food by themselves. And as if Makio could read my mind, she suddenly patted my back and spoke.

"You dummy, I know that face and your cooking is the best I've ever had. No one can cook like you can and even if you couldn't cook very well, I know damn well that I'd still eat it because I love you." she reassured as she then kissed my cheek and began munching on her food. The others agreed which caused me to feel my cheeks heat with slight embarsessment.

Soon we finished, got dressed, and made our way to town that was beautifully decorated to match the theme. The streets were packed with people all excited for the festival. As the trees were in full bloom as the petals that were blown off were covering the streets like a beautiful multicolored blanket of snow. It was a breathtaking sight and I looked at Hina who was already looking at me with a sickly sweet smile that it felt as though the view of the blossoms no longer mattered as much as her smile. God I felt so lucky.

"Hey, Hey, Hey! Girls lets go over there!" Suma squeled with pure excitement as she grabbed mine and Makio's arm dragging us to a nearby stand. Her eyes sparkled with excitement at all of the things that were for sale. I was even interested in some of them and so was Hina and Makio. Tegnen saw our excitement as he patted us on the head.

"Pick something out you four and I'll get it for ya!" Tengen said smiling at us.

"Are you sure, Lord Tengen?" I asked my generous husband

"Of course my love." he responded pinching my cheek softly.

The four of us all picked out our items as there were a number of ones to choose from I choose a simple yet beautiful hair pin that I thought would compliment my h/t h/c hair. Hina got a scarf, Makio got a ring, and Suma decided to get a cute plush to add to her ever growing collection. Tengen looked at our items and seemed happy with what we decided to get and promptly paid for them thanking the booth owner as he paid. He then walked to me gently grabbing the hair pin.

"My I put this in your hair, Y/n?" He asked in that to-die-for voice he has that made me melt. I nodded my head already flustered by him as he put it in the side of my head. It sat comfortably and I turned to look in the mirror that was provided my the booth owner admirimg my new accessory. I thanked Tengen for the gift as he went to the other three. He than wrapped Hina's scarf around her, placed Makio's ring on her middle finger, and patted the head of Suma's plush. We all blushed and gawked at our husband as he began walking the streets looking at all there was around to see. We followed him as we too admired the sights around us. I decided to walk slightly ahead of him not realizing that I would venture much farther than anticipated. As I wasn't looking out for my surroundings properly and accidentiely bumped into a rather large man who knocked me down into the streets.

"Hey watch where you're going you clumsy bitch!" The man yelled as the woman he was with began laughing at the state I was in.

"I'm sorry sir I didn't mean to." I pleaded with him as tears fell down my now dirty and slightly scratched up face.

"Aww, look what you did!" He yelled looking down at his feet that were now ever so slightly dusted with dirt. It was so slightly there that I had to nearly squint just to see it. Even still, I felt bad.

"I'm so sorry, here I'll find something to clean it with." I said standing up quickly as to find something to clean his shoe with. That same familiar feeling arouse and everything felt foggy once again. I felt my breathing get harder and the same feeling of tightness in my throat began to appear. I knew in my heart that bumping into someone is not the biggest deal, but the way this man was acting make it seem like I was the most vile creature he has ever laid eyes on. The people surrounding us began to whisper and I swear I heard even more people start to laugh. It became too much and too overwhelming. My cries escalated into full blown panic crying. He smirked at this, and I could tell his man was a vile man, just like my father...

"Hey get the fuck away from my wife!" Yelled my husband as he made his way through the tight crowd of people along with my wives. He had a look on his face that I don't think I've ever seem before. Tengen then walked up to the man grabbed him by his clothes, picked him up, and slammed him down on the dirt. And I could swear that Tengen might have broken something. Despite the shock of what just happened, I was still in tears from being overwhelmed and bullied. Hina, Makio, and Suma tried to calm me down by it was like their words were muffled. I heard a few "It's not your fault," "That man is ugly Y/n, don't listen to ugly people like him," and "You're gonna be okay." All of it fell on deaf ears and I felt like this hell was never going to end. Tengen then joined and instead of talking to me, he picked me up and using his speed, began running with me in his arms. Not even a few minutes later we were at our home. I quickly jumped out of his arms and ran to my safe space: my room.

I made a beeline not even stopping when I heard him calling out my name. I needed to be somewhere familair and I needed to be alone. I took off my shoes and jumped in my bed covering myself with my blanked as I curled into a tight ball. I then covered my ears and cried into my pillow trying to make all the world go away. After a few minutes, I heard the soft knocking on my door and a few voices asking if I was okay. I couldn't speak, I couldn't do anything excpet cry and wish that the world would stop for one second just so I could breathe. The voices died down after a few minutes and I assumed that my lovers gave up trying to persuade me to talk to them. I appreciated that and I think they picked up the fact that the only thing I needed now was to just be alone.

A few hours later...

Opening my eyes and opening the covers, I was met with a sun kissed room and a plate of my favorite food and drink next to my bed. God I felt so awful, not just because I felt physically bad, but because it just dawned on me that I caused a pretty big scene in a public place. And that's something that I've never done before. I felt so heavy with guilt that I wanted to cry all over again, but what good would that do? All I feel like I do is cry. Shit, I just realized that I need to start on dinner. Do they hate me now? Are they angry with me? Did I embaress them? I really don't know right now and there was no use in overthinking as my brain simply couldn't handle all of that right now. So, I did the only thing that I felt was right in that moment. I looked at the plate and began eating the food that was placed out for me. I then got up and refreshed myself and decided that it was best that I try to make it up to them. I don't make a really big meal often, but I decided that it was only right considering all they have had to go through these past few days and honestky since they've met me.

I walked into the kitchen fully prepeared to be met with the stares or constant questions of my lovers. However, It was empty and another note was placed stating that they were called for a mini mission and would be back a little past dinner time. Honestly, I was relievd that they weren't here so that I could surprise them all with their favorite foods. I mean it's only fair considering they took the time to prepare mine. So, I grabbed all of the necessary ingrediengts to make each main dish, side dish, and dessert that they each love. Meaning that I was going to make a shit ton of food, but it would be worth it just for them.

Finally, after a few hours of cooking I was finally done with the meal. I was lucky that my loves hadn't come home yet so that I could set the table too. I quickly ran to the storage room grabbing the spare table so that they could eat in the backyard and enjoy the fresh air. Soon enough, the table was set and the food was placed as neatly as possible. I stood back for a moment and admired my work. I then felt arms wrap around my waist. I yelped in surprise, quickly turning around only to be met with the sweet faces of Makio who quickly hugged me more and I returned it without question. Suma, Hina, and Tengen were also there smiling.

"Damn Y/n, you made whole feast!" Tengen spoke walking towords the table.

"Yeah, please all of you feel free to sit down. I made your favorites." You told all of them as the rest made their way to the table.

"Wow, this is amazing Y/n dear! What's the occasion?" Hina asked as she sat in her seat.

"Well, I just wanted to apologize, but i really wanted to do something your you guys too. Honestly, these last few days have been really hard on me and especially you guys." I spoke

"Y/n, we love you and are you for you." Suma proclaimed with slight ears forming in her beutiful eyes.

"I love you guys too. I just really feel like i have been burdening you guys. I mean look what happened today and yesterday as well as throughout our relationship together. I'm still a lot even though I have gotten better over the years. The harsh words of my parents still haunt me and I'm so sorry for that." I spoke as very thick tears streamed down my face and I menatlly cureed myself for crying again. I huggged myself crying harder now and feeling so gilty for the behavoirs that I've shown recently. Strong arms wrapped sorund my body and I knew exactly who was there.

"Oh my dear, y/n you've never been a burden my love." Tengen spoke softly as I wrapped my arms around him tightly sobbing into his chest. "You are so lovely and so sweet. No one as wonderful as you could ever be a burden. Y/n you came from a shit situation and it was you that left that. You're so incredibly strong and flashy at that. I love you, we all do because you're honestly one of the strongest people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting." Tengen said hugging me tighter. I was still crying, but this time my tears were replaced with happy tears. "Now come on and let's eat." He said in normal tone looking at me with that flashy smile he always has.

"Yeah, lets do that. Only problem is I only made food for you guys, so I'll just sit and drink some tea." I told him a little embressed that I didn't think to make food for myself too. I looked at my wives and they just smiled at me.

"Well, I guess you'll just have to share with me then, love." Tengen suggested as he grabbed my handas we made our way to the table.

"You can have some of mine too!" Suma interjected

"Me too. Y/n there is plenty to share! Thank you for making all of our favorites!" Hina spoke as she began fixing a plate.

"Yeah! I don't mind sharing too!" Makio agreed as she started making a plate too.

"You guys are so sweet!" I exclaimed sitting down in between tengen and Hina. As soon as I sat down she placed a plate of food in front of me and I thanked her for her kindness as she put her hand on my shoulder as I looked up at her.

"Y/n I just wanted to say that Tengen is right, you could never be a burden to us. We all love you and respect you so much. If you ever need any of us, we will be here for you always. I really hope you know that you can rely on us." Hina reassured as she moved he hand to my face stroking my cheek softly before turning away to start making her own plate.

"I agree with Hina Y/n. If you ever need me please don't hesitate to come to me. I'll do my best to be there for you." Makio told me as she too placed food on my plate.

"Yeah, me too Y/n. I love you!" Suma spoke too with a mouth full of food.

"Hey, don't eat yet you dummy." Makio snapped pinching Suma's ear

"Makio, that's mean!" Suma whined softly. I began laughing slightly at their antics. They are so predictable, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Makio be nice, please." Hina asked sweetly

"Fine." Makio cutely pouted

"Alright girls, lets eat before this good food gets cold." Tengen said as we all nodded in agreement.

We all began eating but not before giving thanks. It was a wonderful evening and I felt so lucky that I was blessed enough to be around such good people. They would never hurt me and I knew that part of me will always feel bad for mistaking them for bad people, but another part of knew knew that they would never resent me for that. That thought gave me so much comfort and more than anything I knew that I would be safe as long as I had them by my side.

Thank you so much for reading and thank you to whoever requested this fic! Sorry it took me so long to complete this. 💜

Please feel free to like, comment, request, and reblog.

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters expect y/n and any original characters•

L.W.L

[lukiechino]

A Dream Within A Dream

| Spencer Reid x Reader |

“O God! Can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save,

One from the pitiless wave?”

— “A Dream Within A Dream”, Edgar Allen Poe

Y/n laid awake in bed, staring at the slip of paper in her hand. She tried to let her roommate’s earth-shaking snoring lure her into a merciful sleep, but with the paper and the thought of the delightful stranger she had met that night fresh in her mind, it was impossible.

Her mind overflowed with thoughts of the date she asked him on and what she would wear. But even more so, the thought that she held the coupon that he had quickly scribbled his number onto in her hand filled her mind with thoughts of late night talks and good morning calls that she always dreamt of having.

Y/n looked at the cardigan that was draped over the chair in front of her desk, remembering the moment he gave it too her. They were standing at the door of his apartment building, and Y/n awkwardly held the coupon he gave to her. She a short, sleeveless, sequence dress that her friend lent her had left her wrapping her arms around her for warmth. She awkwardly waved at him, but he hesitated at the entrance of the building. He quickly tugged off his cardigan and awkwardly slipped it over Y/n’s shoulder.

Neither of them knew what to say or do next, but Y/n managed to ask him out to coffee. Then, just before he entered his building, Y/n remembered neither of them had introduced themselves, even though they talked at the bar for what felt like an hour.

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” Y/n whispered, staring at the paper. She grabbed her phone off her nightstand, turning it on. She quickly made the number into a new contact and stuffed the coupon into her nightstand’s drawer.

In a decision fueled by the confidence from lack of sleep, Y/n clicked call. She shot up as her phone rang loudly, and she hurried to turn it down.

Y/n hurried out of her and her roommates shared room, and into the living room. She placed the phone against her ear, listening as her phone rang. There was the click of the other end picking up, and Y/n broke out into a smile as she heard Spencer’s hesitant voice.

“Y/n?” He said. Then she realized that she just called this guy she barely knew at midnight, for no reason.

“Yeah, sorry, I don’t know why I called,” she rambled out quickly, pacing the length of her dining room table. “I…sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Y/n said, prepared to hang up.

“It’s alright, I couldn’t sleep anyway,” he said, making Y/n’s finger pause on the hang-up button. She sat on the couch staring up at the ceiling as she held the phone to her ear. “Remember what we were talking about at the bar?” He asked. Of course she remembered, how could she forget?

The night turned sour for Y/n after her group of friends ditched her at a bar, with plans to go to a party nearby. But as she settled in at the bar, she found the guy next to her was reading a compilation of Edgar Allen Poe writings. Y/n excitedly struck up a conversation, which continued until a group of rowdy college kids infiltrated the bar.

“I finished reading Annabelle Lee,” he said.

“Ooo, how was it?” Y/n asked. It was one of her favorites—and it was actually the first poem of Poe’s she ever read.

“Still like the Raven more,” he said with a chuckle, and Y/n groaned dramatically.

“C’mon, the longing, the romance, the despair…” Y/n sighed. “Y’know what, the angels did not send a cold gust of wind to chill and kill Annabelle Lee for you to compare them to a talking Raven,” she said, getting Spencer to chuckle on the other end. “How about A Dream within a Dream, read that one yet?”

“I did, and it might actually be my favorite.”

“Phew, I don’t think I could handle any more disrespect to far superior stories,” Y/n said with a grin. Y/n closed her eyes to take in a breath. “The ending, it’s too beautifully written. The despair in every word reminds me of the empty feeling I get when I finish some eye-opening movie.” The doorbell rang as she finished talking. Y/n stared at the door upside down, praying it wasn’t family. But just in case she ended the call with, “Let me call you right back.”

The next morning, Gabby, Y/n’s roommate, woke up to an empty house. She looked around for Y/n, but found no signs she had been there at all since the night before. Nothing, except, for a crumbled up coupon with a phone number, and thin red cardigan that was thrown over her chair.

[carmybears]

Stay

pairing: carmy berzatto X female!reader

summary: meeting Carmy's sister for the first time. tw for panic attacks.

word count: 2.9K

The sound of shattering ceramic in the other room makes your head snap up with a start. Across the couch from you, Sugar’s eyebrows knit together in concern — an expression you can only think of as “older sister face”—as she calls out to her brother.

“Everything ok in there, Carm?”

“Guess we know why he’s a chef and not a dish washer,” Pete chuckles, giving her a good natured pat on the knee in reassurance.

When you don’t hear a sound in the other room, you feel a lump begin to grow in your throat. 

“I should go check on-“ Sugar starts.

“No, no I got it,” you volunteer, recalling Carmy’s previous statements to you about this sister’s sixth sense for knowing when he’s in trouble (and scolding him for being a “soft shitty bitch” whenever he refuses her help).

“I was gonna refill my drink here in a minute anyway. Can I get you some more wine?” You ask, but don’t wait for an answer as you hurry to your feet and out of the room, leaving the wine glasses forgotten on the table.

__

This was your first time meeting Carmy’s sister.

In the months since you started dating, you had already become well acquainted with his work family, but you knew that Carmy had some hesitations about introducing you to his real family. In the wake of Mikey’s death, he had been putting effort into mending his relationship with his sister, although progress didn’t necessarily come easy. Regardless, someone (probably Richie) let it slip to Sugar that “some girl” had been coming around the restaurant, “making Carmen all smiley.” Before you knew it, Carmy was begrudgingly extending his sister’s invitation to come around for dinner at her house.

The night of the dinner, Carmy drove you out to Sugar’s and you fretted the whole way there about how you looked, what small talk you would make, whether she’d like the bottle of wine you’d brought. But every time Carmy heard the insecurity creeping into your voice, he reached over and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, thumb running softly over your knuckles.

When you arrived, you were greeted by Sugar and Pete, already standing on the front doorstep, ready to pull you into a warm hug.

“It’s so good to meet you!” Sugar tells you with a squeeze. “God, look at you. You’re out of his league.”

She turns and says this with a wink to her brother before pulling him into an embrace as well.

Pete claps you on the shoulder warmly. “Good to have you here - it’s always nice to get another outsiders perspective on these two.”

Dinner itself is phenomenal—you learn that Sugar makes an eggplant parmesan that is to die for and you can’t help but wonder whether aptitude in the kitchen is genetic. Although, you do feel a bit like you’re on display for the first few hours of the evening because every time Carmy even so much as looks at you, Sugar’s eyes widen in delight like a kid on Christmas morning. Eventually Carmy nudges her arm and shakes his head at her, mumbling something about not wanting to scare you off.

At the end of the meal, you stand with your plate in hand, more than happy to help clean up after the amazing meal Sugar had prepared for you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Sugar fusses, reaching out to take the plate.

“No, no I insist. Dinner was so great, it’s the least I can do.”

“How about I get the dishes,” Carmy offers, turning to his sister. “You can go tell embarrassing stories about me in the other room or something. I don’t need to be there when you pull out my sixth grade yearbook picture.”

Sugar looks like she wants to continue to debate the matter but decides against it, settling for topping off your wine glass and motioning to the living room around the corner.

You stack your dishes beside the sink and give Carmy’s arm a quick squeeze. "God, I bet you were such an awkward sixth grader.”

His lips pull into a brief smile and he lets out a knowing chuckle.

“Believe me, I was.” He plants a quick peck on your cheek. “I’ll be out there in a few.”

_

When you enter the kitchen, Carmy’s back is to you as he stands at the sink and you see shards of ceramic – one of Sugar’s dinner plates—scattered on the floor surrounding his feet. Only when you step in closer do you notice the white knuckle grip that Carmy has on the countertop and the way he’s leaning against the granite for stability.

“Carmy?” your voice is panicked as you rush over to his side, sidestepping the worst of the broken dishware on the floor.

When you reach him, all of the color has drained from Carmy’s face and he’s got a fist pressed tightly to his chest as he sucks in frantic, shallow breaths. He blinks heavily, eyes squeezing together as if in pain, and you register something like fear in his eyes when he reopens them.

Your heart catches in your throat as you reach out to him, extending a shaking hand to cover his fist, now clawing at the fabric of his shirt.

“Carmy, Carm –“ You try to keep your voice a soothing tone as you press your fingertips lightly at his jaw. “Carmen.”

His gaze shifts and he starts, seemingly just now aware of your presence. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.

“Carmy, honey, you’re having a panic attack,” you tell him. “Let’s sit you down, alright?”

At first, you start to steer him toward the kitchen table before he hesitates, keeping his feet planted firmly where he stands. When you look up, you realize why – the table is in full view of the living room, directly in the line of sight of Sugar and Pete.

“Ok, c’mere,” you coax him in the opposite direction, finding an open space away from the broken plate where Carmy can slide to the floor, back pressed up against the cabinets as you settle onto the ground in front of him, gripping his hand firmly in yours.

“If you breathe, you’re gonna feel a lot better. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

He gulps in a shaking breath, which he immediately exhales. Not great, but it’s a start.

“Ok, that’s good,” you nod, rubbing your hand in circles on his back. “This time, I want you to do that for two seconds. I’ll do it with you, ok.”

You breathe in audibly through your nose, counting out the seconds on your fingers as Carmy does the same.

“That’s better, let’s do it again.”

Again, Carmy breathes and you squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“You’re doing great, baby. Now lemme see you hold that breath for two seconds and then exhale out real slow.”

You continue to guide him in his breathing, counting out loud as he gradually builds up to taking longer, deeper breaths. Some of the color seems to have come back into his face, and you can feel his pulse thumping in his wrist, still rapid, but not alarmingly so.

When you stop counting aloud, Carmy continues taking the long breaths on his own, tilting his head back to rest against the cabinet with his eyes closed. You readjust your position on the floor so that you’re sitting beside him, bodies pressed together hip to shoulder as you continue rubbing small circles on his back.

A shadow crosses the doorway, and you see Sugar enter the kitchen, a look of alarm crossing her face.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, willing her not to make a sound. It’s ok, you mouth to her.

The look of concern never leaves her face, but she nods trustingly and retreats back to the living room.

A few minutes later, you feel Carmy squeeze your hand tightly and you turn to look at him. His eyes are red and look more sullen than usual, but otherwise he looks fine.

“Thank you,” he rasps, not quite meeting your eye as he rakes a hand nervously through his hair and shifts his weight as he begins to stand. “I’m just gonna, uh, splash some water on my face. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” you promise.

Carmy disappears down the hall and you hear the click of a door and the faucet running a second later. In his absence, you find a broom and dustpan, cleaning up the broken plate the best you can before Carmy returns.

He says nothing when he comes back, just eyes the now clean floor and nods curtly. The pinched expression on his face tells you that he’s just barely holding something back, so you keep your questions to yourself and allow him to twine your fingers together before leading you back to the living room.

“Uh oh, there are the lovebirds,” Pete chimes when you return. “I was getting scared that you two might be up to trouble.”

Sugar’s face contorts from exasperation to defeat, but you see Carmy smile out of the corner of your eye, acting as if nothing had just happened in the kitchen as he addresses his brother in law.

“Not too much trouble, unless you’re asking the plates. Let me know how much I owe you for that, by the way.”

Pete shakes his head. “You don’t wanna know dude. That shit’s Crate & Barrel – costs an arm and a leg.”

--

Thankfully, the rest of the evening passes without incident, and you almost forget about the scene in the kitchen. Almost.

You and Carmy had brought along a box of Marcus’s latest donut creations for dessert, which the four of you happily dive into, swiping crumbs from your plate when you’re done. Sugar and Carmy take turns telling stories about each other, and Pete even brings up a few stories from his childhood, prompting you to take mental bets with yourself about his upbringing (your money is on him being an only child from an upper middle class family in Nebraska; only a flyover state could produce such a degree of loud, overconfident politeness in a man like Pete).

It’s only when you catch Carmy yawning out of the corner of your eye that you all take note of the late hour and begin the process of saying goodbye. You shrug in to your coat and Sugar loads up your arms with leftovers from dinner, all the while begging Carmy to leave the final two donuts at the house for her and Pete.

In a whirlwind, you are pulled into a warm hug and a kiss is pressed into your cheek as you stand on the doorstep with Carmy. As the two of you start down the front steps toward the car, you hear Sugar’s voice behind you.

“Carmy? Can I see you a sec?”

You sense Carmy’s hesitation but he lingers back as you proceed to the car, depositing the leftover food safely in the backseat. When you turn back, the Berzattos are standing close together, voices low and heads tilted toward each other in conversation. The warm glow of the porchlight catches in a few strands of their hair, illuminating them both in an angelic glow as Sugar pulls Carmy into a final hug and says her goodbyes.

Carmy ambles over to the car, and in the dim moonlight, you notice how weary his face looks now that he’s no longer putting on a polite charade for his sister and brother-in-law.

“Baby, how about you let me drive,” you suggest, running a hand down the rough woolen sleeve of his plaid jacket. “No offense, but you look like you got hit by a bus.”

Carmy looks at you a moment and a wry smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “That’s how I usually look.”

“Well, then it looks like you got hit by a bigger bus than usual.”

He lets out a dry laugh and hands the keys over to you.

You crank the heat in his car the moment you start the vehicle, needing a dry blast of heat to cut through the damp chill of early fall in Chicago. With mirrors and seats adjusted, you pull away from the curb and Carmy directs you out of Sugar’s neighborhood, the headlights of the vehicle cutting through the darkness of Sugar’s suburban streets.

“I think that went really well,” Carmy remarks after directing you to make a left turn onto a more familiar street. “Sugar loves you.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t love me,” you chuckle, bringing the car to a stop at a red light.

“She told me so,” he insists. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already requested to follow you on Instagram and is plotting to invite you to book club with her college friends.”

“Book club? Do they read anything interesting?”

The light turns green and you make the turn onto the highway, accelerating steadily as you merge with traffic. For a few miles, you and Carmy sit together in silence. You swallow the lump that has been gradually forming in your throat since dessert and your palms grow slick as you wonder how best to speak to Carmy about what happened tonight. You suppose you could just let it be for now, although you have a sneaking suspicion, knowing Carmy, that he won’t bring it up unprompted.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the city lights sliding over Carmy’s features as you speed back toward home – red and green lights casting long shadows over his cheekbones, fanned out under his eyelashes.

Your chest constricts as you make the decision to dive in.

“So do you get panic attacks a lot?”

There is a beat of silence before he exhales heavily. “How do you define a lot?”

You give him a stern look over the center console before fixing your eyes back on the road, his hands fidgeting in your peripheral vision.

“I started getting them a lot around the time I came back here,” He admitted slowly. “I suppose I probably used to have a version of them back in New York, y’know, with the whole vomit before work thing. But really, it’s been since Mikey.”

You nod silently, flicking the blinker with your left hand as you change lanes, knowing that your exit is coming up.

“This is the first time I’ve had one since meeting you, though. The last time, Syd had just started at The Beef and I just ran out on her, hauled ass to get to the Al Anon meeting across town. I dunno how to explain it, but I just had to get out of the Restaurant, away from Mikey. It had started to feel to real, y’know? Like he was alive again.”

He lets out a long breath, scratching at the crown of his head as he tended to do whenever he was getting stressed or uncomfortable.

“That’s how it felt tonight too –With you meeting Sugar and all. I was standin’ there doing the dishes and thinking God, this is going great and the thought occurred to me that I couldn’t wait for you to meet Mikey.”

Carmy’s still fidgeting, fingers drumming against his thigh, toying with a loose thread on his jacket. You reach out to him and lay your hand over his, squeezing lightly.

He squeezes back and whispers, so quietly that you almost don’t hear it. “He would’ve loved you.”

Your throat feels tight and you’re surprised to feel the prickle of tears stinging your eyes as you listen to his confession.

“I wish I could have met him, Carmy. I really do.”

You take your exit off the highway and zigzag your way down the surrounding streets until you come to Carmy’s apartment, fortunate enough to find parking on your first pass down the street. As soon as you open the car doors, the damp chill of the autumn air raises goosebumps up and down your arms with a shiver.

You’ve barely stepped onto the sidewalk when Carmy tugs you into a tight hug, arms wrapped tightly around your torso as he presses his lips to your forehead. You squeeze your arms around him as you bury your face into the curve of his shoulder and feel him let out a long breath. You stand there for nearly a full minute, wrapped up in each other, unmoving until Carmy finally steps away.

“Do you wanna stay here tonight?” he asks, motioning his head in the direction of his building.

“Do you want me to stay?” you ask, a bit surprised. Up to this point of your relationship, Carmy had always had a habit of retreating back after sharing such vulnerable pieces of himself – his relationship with his brother, his anxieties about the restaurant. You’d always respected his space, understanding that he’d come back around when he wasn’t feeling so raw. Honestly, you had already expected that tonight you’d be catching the L home and wouldn’t hear from him until tomorrow, so it came as a surprise when he nodded yes, blue eyes pleading with you in ways that words couldn’t.

“Of course I’ll stay,” you promised him. And as you walked arm in arm into the building, you hoped he knew that you would always stay if he needed you to.

[evans23]

Daughter of mine II

Pairing : Judge Turpin x Daughter OC

Summary : The great judge Turpin tries to adapt to his new role as a father. Awkward, he doesn't realise that his daughter doesn't find her place in this new world.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : A bit of angst I guess. Mention of prostitution and death. Awkward father. If I forget something, please mention it to me !

A/N: Hello dear 😁 Here the next part of Daughter of mine. Enjoy !

Part I

Also read on AO3

The first days were awkward, to say the least. Catherine was intimidated by her new surroundings and Turpin didn't know how to be a father. He didn't really try either. He didn't have any good paternal figure when he was a kid, his father being the kind violent. Besides, he couldn't stop thinking it would have been easier if he had been in the child's life from the beginning. 

Not only did he have to catch up with six years of his daughter's life, almost seven, which was utterly impossible, but also, he wasn't sure how to impose his authority on his daughter. His daughter... Even this word sounded strange to him. 

It had only been two weeks since the girl had moved in with him, in his mansion. The servants were totally enamoured with the child, who was reserved and overly polite. She never asked for anything and ate everything that was served to her, even when it was obvious she didn't like what was on her plate. Fortunately, her governess could read the little girl far more easily than her dad, and each time she noticed an imperceptible grimace of disgust, she warned the cook not to prepare this food for the child anymore. 

True to his words, two days after her arrival, Catherine got a tutor. In fact, more than one. One of the teachers had for a mission was to teach her how to write, read, and speak properly, like a well-mannered lady should do. Another one was there to teach her to speak French and Italian and another one to provide some music and drawing skills.

She probably should learn how to dance, sew, and many other things a mother would judge necessary for his daughter to know, but Turpin wasn't a mother, scarcely a father, and those trivial competencies weren't what mattered the most for Turpin. He wanted a well-educated daughter, with knowledge in his head and not just an empty brain as too much lady of his acquaintance. Turpin was a conservator, yes, but he knew how important it was to be able to think by itself, even for a girl, even more for his daughter !

The triviality would be learned later, when he decided it was time to introduce her to the high society, in a timely manner. For the moment, there was no place for any leisure. Anyway, the hectic schedule of Catherine didn't leave any room for that. She had a tiring day like she had never experienced before. 

She had to wake up at seven o'clock, half past six sometimes, and be ready with the help of her maid before eight. She had a light breakfast before the start of her courses, which only stopped once at noon to let her the time to have lunch and then at half past four in the afternoon. From half past four to five, she had some time to play on her own but she had to be quite imaginative, for there were no toys for her. Not because Turpin was too stingy but because it hadn't crossed his mind that the girl could need more than pretty dresses and coats. 

However, Catherine was so happy with those beautiful clothes that she wore them with unconcealed joy as she had never had new clothes before, even less expensive and elegant dresses like these one but only the old ones of her mother who took up it as best as she could, that she didn't dare ask for more. 

In addition, she had three meals a day, water at will, tea in the morning, and even orange juice and snacks during the day if she wished to. But what delighted her the most was the hot cocoa her governess brought her every night before sleep. A beverage her mother couldn't afford at all. Also, and for her biggest relief, she was allowed to keep her candles lit all night to make the terrifying shadows of her past disappear. And she knew how expensive was a candle, her mother told her so each time she asked to keep one alight for the night when she was alone and so afraid.

Unfortunately, despite all the affluence she was surrounded with, she felt alone. Terribly alone. She had no friends, wasn't allowed to go out, except for the backyard of the mansion, but anyway, it was too cold to play outside, but more than everything else, she missed her mom. She was also secretly longing for a father. But Richard didn't seem to appeal to the idea or at least, it was what she thought. 

Richard was never home. He left an hour before her waking time and came back far after her bedtime. He worked every day, including on Saturday morning, and during the afternoon, he was locked up in his office. The only room she was forbidden to enter in. Should she have been bolder, she would probably intruded into his sanctuary of peace to have the privilege of his company, but the natural severity emanating from the man was enough to keep her on track. 

Sunday was the only day during which she had breakfast with him, but he wasn't very talkative and she didn't know what to say to the man who, inevitably, dismissed her in her room or in the garden with her maid to let her have some clear air while he was, yet again, in his office, working on court cases or attempting some business with The Beadle. 

And because she couldn't have a piece of Richard, not necessarily his heart, not even his affection, even though she was in desperate need of a bit of that more than the beautiful dresses and the palatable food, she started to become sad. Sadder than she was when her mom died or when they were living in the paucity on the outskirts of London. Sadder than when she had lost her little cat, dead because he was starving and her mom couldn't buy enough food for the three of them, sadder than when she had been sent to the orphanage. 

In fact, she felt deceived by the man she had thought would be more than just his savior. The moment she had understood who he was, she had thought he would be his father, the one she had wished for on every birthday, and also for Christmas. She had begun to feel the need to fill in the hole in her heart with the presence of the man she had dreamt of. Moreover, the death of Elena, her dear mommy, had enlarged that hole, and the instant she had acknowledged Richard for who he was, she had wrongly thought he would embrace his role as a father. How stupid she had been. How a man who had left her mother with a broken heart could have loved her ?

The governess and the maids had already understood what the child was longing for. She needed her father's love to heal. However, Richard wasn't mean on purpose. He just didn't know how to step into the life of the child, how to take up his place as a father. Of course, he knew he just had to be himself, but the truth was that he was afraid to act like his father. Never could he forgive himself if his daughter was as afraid of him as he was of his own father when he was a child and even a young teenager. 

He had promised to himself, the day she arrived home, that never ever he would beat her, no matter her wrongdoings. Never she would hear the sound of a whip on her back and even less the feel of it. Nevertheless, he was a firm believer in the fact that a kid needed a sprinkle of authority. Even more than a sprinkle. 

Yet, he had to admit that she was easy to manage. She didn't run amok around the house and apparently, she didn't inherit the malicious and devious traits of the Turpin. Also, she never answered back, something Richard had done many times at the same age, which had owed him many slaps in the face. And surprisingly, he found himself wishing she would answer back because it would mean she was talking with him. In his presence, she was always silent and he didn't know if it was because she was impressed by him or just because she didn't adapt well to her new environment, but it was bothering him. 

"Sir, may I enquire how is doing the daughter of yours ?" asked The Beadle, that morning in the court office.

Richard looked down at him suspiciously. He didn't appreciate the attention Beadle thought necessary to have towards his daughter. He knew the man too well and didn't have any difficulties to figure out his intentions. He would be cold in his grave before a man like him could consider being betrothed to Catherine. The girl wouldn't have any suitor before her twenty-five. Or before his death. And he was able to defy God's authority on that matter just to be sure she wouldn't fall for a miserable like Beadle. A depraved man like him. In fact, after consideration, a man at all !

He dismissed The Beadle with a frown which said far more than his mouth. For God's sake, he thought, never come the day she would find man interesting. Not that they were all that bad, but Catherine's legacy would be substantial. Indeed, he had already found enough loopholes in the law to prevent his manor and all his wealth from being entailed to a stranger cousin he hadn't met in his life. All he knew about that man was that he was living in Australia with his wife and a son of sixteen named Elliott. 

"How is she ?" he asked as usual when he came back from the court to the maid.

"Asleep," answered merely the woman. 

She was the oldest maid of the manor, also the one who was able with Richard diplomatically enough to bring him around the right decision. 

"Did she eat ?"

If the answer was no, which happened sometimes, he always made sure she had a heavy breakfast in the morning, one she had to eat entirely if she wanted to have a break after her last course of the day. It only happened once that she was deprived of her playtime. Turpin knew it wasn't a solution to punish the girl when she didn't feel like eating, but she was so thin, even after two weeks of the best food that he was afraid to see her fall sick. Eating wasn't a pleasure, it was vital. 

"Yes."

The quietness of the maid made him suspicious. 

"What's the matter, Anne ?" he asked roughly.

The old woman wasn't impressed at all by the man. She wasn't afraid to stand up to him, even if she had already threatened to fire her or worse, to send her to a colony in the middle of nowhere in the upside-down. Perhaps the fact she had been his governess when she was a child had something to do with it. And even if she was grateful for the man to have hired her after her husband's death when he was still a young man, barely established as a young lawyer thanks to the influence of his family. 

"The girl is depressed," she stated frankly.

"Depressed ? We are not depressed at her age. She didn't know anything about the hardness of life," he prompted harshly.

"As you didn't know anything about it at the same age, I guess ?" Anne uttered perfidiously. 

The look Richard gave her would have made anyone else shriek with fear, but the woman didn't flinch under his stringent gaze.

"She is not mistreated here," he growled, his tone a dangerous warning.

"No, but she is alone. No friends, no toys, only studying the whole day."

And no father, she added for herself. 

"I've no acquaintance with child of her age," stated Turpin, "and for the toy, I'll leave money on the buffet tomorrow morning. Go into town and buy what you think is fit for her."

Anne shook her head with disapprobation.

"What ? Woman, do you want to live on the street ? It's where you would be if it hadn't been for my great kindness," groaned Richard, his patience thinner and thinner at each rolling eyes of the maid.

"The gift would have more valor if it came from her father," she simply pointed out. 

Richard, whose eyes were flashing with all his anger, hurried away to lock himself in his bedroom, slamming the door violently to let everybody know how angry he was in the whole house, but more peculiarly Anne, how displeased he was tonight.

The next morning, there was no money on the buffet, which made the maid smile. She was sure her words had reached Richard.

The day seemed to drag on for poor Catherine. She was too distracted to focus on her lesson, which annoyed her teacher who scolded her, promising her to give a report to her father about her bad behaviour. Catherine didn't say anything, even though she found it quite unfair as she just let her mind roam around. It wasn't as if she had disrupted the class by chattering incessantly. Anyway, except for the servants, there was no one to speak with. 

The second teacher was far more lenient with her, asking her why she was so lost on him. She shrugged her shoulders, but the man, who had three daughters and eight grandchildren, wasn't dupe. There was a heaviness in the heart of the little girl. He tried to incite her to open up, without success. He didn't insist as he didn't want to frustrate her. He understood that she was like her father : she didn't give her trust easily and the old man wasn't keen to damage the bond he had started to create with her.

At the Court of Justice, Turpin wasn't more focused than his daughter. He had adjourned the Court, even though he had found some pleasure in not temper justice with mercy. Anne's straightforward honesty had kept him up all night. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to hurt the child, yet he knew he would if he was too involved in her life. He hadn't had any good role model and it wasn't as if he wasn't providing the child with everything she needed. But deep down, he knew it wasn't what she really needed. He had been a child too and back in time, he would have traded everything he had, money, wealth, high education, and the best tutors for the love of his parents. Or at least their care.

Her mother didn't have any maternal instinct. She had been married by force to a cruel man. She had given him an heir, then another one, who had died at the age of fifteen. His younger brother, more sensitive, more fragile, had made the terrible choice to stop breathing by hanging himself to the attic load-bearing beam. Richard was already studying in London when it happened. It's the butler who had found his brother and the boy had been buried in the highest discretion. No one knew the truth, except for the Turpin's family. Richard would never forget the belt lashes of his father when he had made him swear to never reveal the real causes of his father's dead. The truth would have disgraced the family. 

Catherine deserved better than the heavy Turpin's legacy. She deserved to be happy. And because he had been raised by the worst parents, he could be better. He knew everything he mustn't do. He knew how he could destroy her, therefore he knew how not to. 

He left the Court earlier than usual and well-decided to have supper with his daughter. Yet, when he arrived he found the manor too calm, almost as if everybody was already asleep. It was only five, so the venue should have been alive with servants accomplishing their duties, not with the distant cries of a little girl.

Turpin strode up the stairs, worried that something had happened to Catherine when he stumbled upon Anne.

"What's happening here ?" he asked roughly, "while Catherine is crying and where is everybody ?"

"It has been a tough day for the little mistress. Her classes didn't go well. Mister Wosley, her morning teacher had been quite hard with her. He wrote a rapport about her bad behavior, but the governess was with them and she assured me the little girl was quiet as usual, she was just not focusing on her lesson."

"And she's crying for a rapport about her behavior?" asked Turpin bewildered.

"She's afraid you don't want her anymore. The paper is quite severe."

"Because you read it ?" asked Richard, his eyebrows arched, the slightest annoyance on his face.

"No. She did and then she read it to me because she couldn't understand some words. I explained them to her in a more... soft way. I also assure her that you won't send her away because of the angriness of a teacher."

"You did well," said Richard absent-mindedly. 

He pretended to go to his office to read the note, but the maid retained him by clearing her throat. He turned around to face her, a questioning look on his features.

"What else ?" he asked, annoyed at his highest.

"This afternoon, she went out with Mister Brandon. He wanted a change of scenery to cheer up Catherine and..."

The maid hesitated, biting her lower lip.

"Anne, I'm tired, my daughter is crying which, I have to admit despite my disgust at doing it, distraught me, and I'm terribly hungry, which only add to my annoyance. If there is more, then speak without any diversion," he chided, his square shoulders and his stern eyes leaving no room for argument.

"Well, they found a strayed kitten and Catherine had brought it back. Mister Brandon didn't see the harm in it. But once he left, Harry, the stableman, told her that you didn't like animals and that you would probably throw the little pet against a wall to kill it if she didn't get rid of it before your return. She and her governess were trying to find an appropriate hideout for the little cat when she heard you arrived. Yet again, we tried with her governess to tell her you wouldn't do that, but she didn't believe us and now she's afraid Harry told you about her new companion while she didn't find anywhere to hide it."

Richard sighed heavily. The weariness and tiredness put a strain on him. 

"Thank you for telling me, Anne. Ask the butler to thank Harry with no money and reference. The boy doesn't work in my stable anymore,' and with that being said, and the package in his hands, he headed towards Catherine's room.

The governess froze when, after having closed the door, she turned around, almost bumping into Richard.

"My lord," she said with a curtesy.

"How is she ?" he asked, ignoring her terrifying eyes on him. 

"I managed to calm her down, but she is very afraid that you scold her or worse for what Mister Wosley wrote about her. She swears it's not true. And also..."

The woman wasn't sure she should keep quiet. She knew everything she had to about Turpin's bad temper and she had been here for only two weeks, also she didn't know if he could kill or not an innocent kitten.

"What about the cat ?" asked Richard harshly.

If he hadn't been so concerned about the well-being of his child, he would probably have found the expression of the governess hilarious. Her eyes were wide, she was gawking at him.

"Well ?" he insisted, "did you find an appropriate hideout for it ?"

"Indeed," answered the governess with embarrassment.

"Well, let's see if I can find it."

And with that being said, Richard knocked on the door, then entered without waiting for any answer, as he was sure the girl wouldn't have given permission to anyone to come in. 

"Catherine," thundered Turpin's voice, making the little girl shiver.

Her sad eyes looked upon his. He opened his mouth, but he didn't have time to utter any words that the little girls rushed into his arms. Flabbergasted, Turpin didn't know what to do and stayed stunned while Catherine flooded his golden waistcoat with her tears. 

"Come on, come on, calm down," said Richard softly, "let's sit down, yes ?"

He led her towards the huge bed on which were laying Merlin and many other plush animals.

"There's a whole zoo on your bed. Are you aware of that ?" asked playfully Turpin, hoping to ease a bit of the distress of his daughter.

It seemed to work as she giggled discretely. 

"Where do all those animals come from ?" asked curiously Richard.

"The servants," whispered the girl. 

Of course, they were all so fond of their little mistress, and apparently, they knew her better than him as everybody but he knew her love for animals, that they had spent some of their pay into expensive kids' stuff. 

"Do they all have a name ?"

Catherine nodded, introducing him to each of her unanimated friends with enthusiasm, her previous outburst forgotten. Even though Richard was happy to see the mood of the child liven up, he needed to clear up the events of the day. He cursed himself for bringing up the topic when she started to cry with violent sobbing.

"Hush, hush. I'm not scolding you, am I ?" he said, bothered to not know how to talk without causing anguish to his child. 

He, eventually, took his little hand in his, frowning at how thin her little arm was. He could see her bones protruding from her neckline and her shoulders and he was sure that during bath time, her maid could notice the same things with her ribs and knees. 

"You're not angry ?" she asked bashfully.

"No," said Richard.

And it was true. He knew quite well the teacher and how harsh he could be with his pupils. Yet, he was one of the best in his profession and Turpin wanted nothing but the cream of the top for her. He would have a word with him tomorrow, asking him to be more indulgent with the girl. He wouldn't have to ask twice for the man restrained his sternness because no one could match up to the anger of The High Judge Turpin. The Death's Judge. 

"Yet, I would like to be acquainted with someone else," uttered Richard.

Catherine still, understood he was talking about her cat. 

"I put him out," she declared too quickly.

Her alarmed eyes wandered a second too long towards her wardrobe. Richard stood up in a flourish and walked briskly to the piece of furniture.

"NO !" shouted the girl.

"Hush !" prompted Richard.

He sharply opened the door and a little ball of fur ran through the room to find refuge inside a cardboard box that the butler had given to Catherine for her new companion. 

"Well, it seems to already feel at home," stated Richard.

"Please, father, do not kill him," begged Catherine, bursting into tears.

Richard felt his blood ran cold through his whole body. It was the first time she had called him father. And if he was honest with himself, it had made his heart beat faster. 

"Never would I do something like that, Catherine," he said genuinely concerned she could believe him able to do something like that.

Actually, if Richard was totally honest, he could do that without any qualms to blackmail someone or to torture an enemy. But never would he do that to this girl who had become so precious for him in such a short time. Also, for Richard, animals were the sheerest and most beautiful of God's creation. Nothing to do with the mongrel he had to deal with in his day-to-day life. 

"But Harry said..."

"Do not listen to this idiot. Anyway, he doesn't work anymore for us. Rather than being gullible and believing everything everyone's telling you, you should learn to trust me."

She looked down embarrassed but Richard forced her to look at him by lifting her head with the help of one finger under his chin.

"What's the name of this little opportunist ?" he asked, looking with an amused look at the pet tearing apart the old blanket Anne had put into the box.

"Arthur," answered Catherine with a bright smile.

"Arthur ?" questioned Turpin.

"Like the King !"

Obviously. Merlin, Mordred, Gwaine, Percival, Leon, Elyan were the names of her plush and now Arthur, thought Richard, suppressing a laugh. 

"Well, Arthur is more than welcome in this house. As long as he doesn't dare come through my office and he doesn't scratch the sofas of the parlor."

Catherine nodded vigorously, her smile and the happiness flickering in her eyes a reward for Richard's tortured soul.

"I've also a present for you. I'm sorry it's not another beast for your zoo."

With that, he handed her the box he had put down on the nightstand. Catherine looked at the box with surprise before opening it with the enthusiasm of a child who wasn't used to getting a gift. Inside was laying the most beautiful doll she had ever seen. A porcelain doll with curly brown hair and the same green eyes as hers, like the one she shared with her mother. The doll's dress was made of real cashmere and embroidered with golden threads. 

"Are you happy ?" asked Turpin with trepidation as he didn't know how to interpret the child's silence. 

"I've never had something as beautiful before," whispered Catherine, not daring to take the doll out of her box, too afraid to damage it.

Richard did it for her, placing the doll among the animals.

"She will soon have her own house. I'm sure Anne and your governess would be more than delighted to help you to install her in her new lodgings. Perhaps you may ask Anne to teach you how to sew so that you could create a whole wardrobe for your doll. I will provide you with all the pieces of furniture you could need for this new entertainment."

The little girl, overwhelmed with joy, didn't know what to say and Richard, as introverted as his daughter on the field of sharing his feelings, told her he would meet her for supper. But while he was ready to leave the room, he heard Catherine's hurried steps running towards him. He didn't have time to turn around when a mass of brown curls threw itself into his arms.

He gently stroked her back with one hand, the other one caressing with as much love as he could dispense her hair. She finally stepped back, diving her green eyes in his hazel one without quivering at the natural toughness his face was constantly bearing. 

"Thank you, father," she whispered quietly, almost as if she was afraid of his reaction, afraid to lose the little affection he seemed disposed to give her.

Richard's face softened, his heart swelling with a feeling he hadn't felt for long. The last time, it was when Elena, his beloved Elena, was in his arms after he had made love to her. Elena had betrayed him when she had left him with no explanation. And now she was no longer of this world. But Catherine, the fruit of their love was there and she wanted nothing more than to love him unconditionally. It was at this moment, when he saw all the gratefulness of his daughter for a mere doll and his permission to let her keep the kitten, that a thought struck him. A man could lose a woman, but never a father could lose his child if he was able to be a good parent for the said child. So, Richard silently swore to himself he would be the best father a girl could hope for. From now on and until death comes to take him away from this world.

"You're welcome, daughter of mine," he said with a smile matching his daughter's one. A Turpin's smile. 

[umnitsa]

You should mess with Jim - 5

Summary: You woke up in his bed, by yourself, to find Big Jim cooking you breakfast. Then you have sex.

A/N: I don't even know, they took control. The next part will be the continuation of their sweet encounter, I promise! <3 Hope you enjoy it, and if you do, please tell me hahahahah <3

Pairing: retiredpornstar!Hopper x fem!Reader

CW: Oral, M receiving.

Jim woke up in the early morning, feeling warm, feeling different. It took a while for him to recognize the warmth at his back as you.

He was the little spoon, for the first time ever.

He smiled, your arm heavy around his body, your hand possessively sprawled over his chest. He didn’t know what you were dreaming of, but you were draped around him, hugging him tight.

He chuckled softly, and you nuzzled his back in your sleep, grumbling.

Jim waited until your arms relaxed and scooted out of bed.

For a moment, he watched you sleep and thought of his choices. How his fear of commitment made him settle into a lifestyle without companionship.

He did talk about his work, and while you’re a fan, you didn’t mention it. You look at him with lust, but it’s… different. You even said he is gorgeous.

Jim sighed and pulled his pajama pants off, moving into the shower.

He tried not to think about the girlfriends he tried to have, and all the times they tried to make him stop working, and wouldn’t understand that he couldn’t. Jim didn’t think he could have another work, he couldn’t be a part of society anymore… He had been in porn for too long. It didn’t matter anyway, the first flick marked you forever.

What he did set him apart from other people; what he did was dirty. Improper. People looked at him differently the moment they knew. They treated him differently.

Jim dried himself off, then went back to the bedroom, naked. He smiled at your sleeping form and got a pair of shorts. Breakfast.

You would need the energy to deal with him, he was hungry.

For food too.

He moved to the kitchen, deciding to wake you up once he had breakfast ready. But sometime while he was frying some bacon, he felt your arms around his chest. You hummed, pressing your cheek against his back.

“Good morning, sweets.” He rumbled, turning to hug you tight. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” You nuzzled him and kissed his cheeks. “So comfortable…”

“The bed?” Jim asked, turning to the frying pan.

“And you. Damn, you’re comfortable.” You chuckled, sitting at the table. Jim smiled to himself as he started serving the plates. “I had the best dreams. I dreamed I was hugging a huge teddy bear.”

“Oooh, that’s probably why I woke as the little spoon.” He teased, putting some bacon and eggs in front of you. “Don’t blush! I liked it. There’s always a first for everything.”

“Jim!” You whined, covering your face with your hands. He felt this need to just carry you back to bed and ravish you, but… He was somewhat of a gentleman. You giggled, the sound making him feel warm. “Oh, god, did I really make you the little spoon?”

“Uhum.” Jim nodded and sat in front of you, after pouring coffee for both of you. “You were holding me so tight. Did someone want to steal the bear in your dream?”

You stared at him, shocked. He laughed, delighted.

“I hope you don’t make it a habit,” Jim said, starting to eat. “I actually like being the big spoon.”

Jim watched as you quickly focused on the food, the mere suggestion of continued intimacy making you skittish. Made him want to hunt you, chase you until you’re under his body, screaming in pleasure. Soon enough.

He made you eat and offered a shower, which you accepted eagerly. Jim moved to the bedroom, laying back on the bed, petting his belly, his cock hardening in expectation. He took his shorts off and threw them off the bed almost as an afterthought.

You looked almost shy at his bedroom door, wrapped in a towel. You looked a bit insecure, shuffling your feet.

“C’mere, sweetie.” He patted the bed. “Lose the towel.”

You walked slowly toward the bed, then stopped right beside it and dropped the towel

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Jim said softly, grabbing his cock and squeezing himself. “I can’t wait to touch you. C’mon, don’t make me wait.”

He sounded almost desperate, pleading. You smiled to yourself, blushing, and climbed on the bed hiding your face on his chest.

“I keep thinking of all the beautiful women you…” You muttered against his chest, feeling him shift, wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you close.

“I’m not sure they were attracted to me.” He interrupted, and you could feel his breath on your hair. “Hell, I wasn’t attracted to them sometimes. It’s work, we’re hired to give other people pleasure. This is different.”

Jim placed his thigh between yours, pressing your lower back, so you can grind against him.

“I want you.” He said, looking into your eyes, and grabbing your hips, pushing you down against his thigh. “I want you so much.”

You whimpered, kissing his neck, his chin, his cheek.

“I can’t believe I have you here… I’m touching you…” You moaned, your hands on his shoulders. “You’re like a fantasy come true. So gorgeous.”

He watched you, smiling, your eyes wide, glinting as you felt his chest, squeezing his pecs, his biceps. He felt your hands and lips over his skin, sliding, pressing; you were worshipping him.

Jim blushed, as you caressed and kissed his skin. You were like a fluttering presence over and around him, your skin, soft, brushing as you moved. Your lips dried with every kiss, then you paused, licked your lips, and there was the seductive slippery moisture back. He grunted, caressing your skin where he could reach as you squirmed over him.

You moved down his body, your hands open over his belly. He felt a bit self-conscious… Jim knew he wasn’t in the best shape. His mind flashed briefly with shame, with the thought he should be more like his coworkers, muscular and lean, but he caught you looking up at him, with a bright smile, your eyes unfocused. You looked so… Happy.

“Sweetie…” He sounded almost like a warning. Your hands moved to his hips, grabbing, his cock resting against his belly, leaking a puddle of precome.

“That’s how I know you’re enjoying this.” You said, holding his cock gently and raising it with your fingertips delicately, licking the precome from his belly.

“Hmmm?” He grunted, confused. You could feel his cock pulsing, you could see it flowing from him abundantly; it made your mouth water. His blue eyes were focused on your lips, as you licked them. “Jesus, woman…”

You blushed, shyly giggling. You looked like you were hiding something, and he wanted to know. He needed to know everything about you, he needed to consume you. He took a deep breath.

“What?” The question sounded like an order, one impossible to resist or ignore. You whined, hiding your face. His hand cradled your head, palm pressing up, raising your face to look at him. “Tell me.”

“I noticed on the videos… When you’re enjoying yourself, your cock gets so hard, and pulses…” You grabbed the base of his cock firmly and slid your hand up; he was all slippery. “So much precome… The wetter it is, the more aroused you are. It makes my mouth water.”

“You noticed…” Jim looked at you in wonder. It seemed such a small detail to notice, something that would need some mindful observation over a continued amount of time. It filled him with some indistinctive form of joy, the idea that you got off on his pleasure, that you kept watching him, and watching, to the point you noticed some particular detail. He kept looking down, eyes wide, mouth half open, as you suckled on the head, soft grunts escaping from his mouth.

You hummed, sucking greedily on him, and part of him felt sad there wasn’t a camera there to capture the beauty of your pleasured expression. He knew the camera would only capture a fraction of it, but he couldn’t rely on his mind only to retain that image. You looked up and he growled, tugging on your hair.

“Enough.” He gruffed, trying to pull you from him, but you just sucked harder, grabbing his hips. “Fuck, sweetie, you keep this, and I… Jesus fucking Christ, woman, I’ll come. I won’t be able to…” He trailed off into a moan.

You didn’t release him, instead, you sucked harder, one hand tight against the base, unwilling to let go. You kept sliding more of him into your mouth, hungrily. He moaned, his eyes closing, his body tense and tight, one hand grabbing at your hair, the other at your arm.

Jim looked down at you, his eyes half-lidded, grunting. He held your head with both hands and thrust up eagerly but gently, he didn’t want to hurt you or make you gag.

You whined, swallowing around him, your eyes glinting with unshed tears.

“So good to me…” He moaned. “Gonna make me come, sweetie.” A grunt cut his train of thought, and he needed a couple of moments to wade through the pleasure. “Gonna fill your beautiful, slutty mouth.”

You swallowed as he came, in thick spurts, his shaft pulsing violently against your tight lips. He moaned and grunted, as he thrust up until it became almost too sensitive. Jim hissed; you tried to pull away, but he held your head, gently.

“No, no, no…” He petted your cheek. “Suck me dry, baby.” His voice sounded strained, and he moaned. “Swallow it all.”

Jim released your head, his soft cock slipping through your lips. He combed your hair gently, as he pulled you up to rest on his chest. He breathed deeply, petting your back.

“Give me one second to catch my breath.” His eyes fluttered close, a wide smile taking his face. You giggled, nuzzling him.

“Enjoy. You can use your mouth and your fingers to… retribute soon.” You chuckled, petting his chest.

“I’ll need a bit more to recover my wits so I can answer.” He chuckled, squeezing your body against his.

“You’re looking giddy.” Jim softly said after a while, with an amused tone of voice. You couldn’t help but feel giddy, his pleasure was visible and obvious.

“It’s good to see you come, but it’s even better to feel it, to hear it.” You said, blushing. “I’m proud I did that.”

“You should be.” He squinted at you, smiling, and you burst into laughter. “Really. A huge part of my job is keeping my cool until they get all the angles, and…”

You pressed your face against his side and bit him lightly.

“Ow.” Jim looked mock hurt. “I’m just praising my good girl for being the hungriest little whore I’ve ever met, making me nut like a teenager in her mouth.”

You giggled, feeling warm all over, and watched his face until the joke died and you were just looking into each other’s eyes.

“I want to please you.” You said softly, crawling over him; you kissed him deeply, on his lips, sliding your tongue against his until you were both breathless. “I want to see you come… For me.”

“Fuck.” He squeezed you tightly against him.

***

You two fell back into a comfortable silence and you reached a place of almost sleep, your body moving with his breathing, his arm a solid presence over your back.

He looked so much more beautiful up close, relaxed. And his noises… His voice… You took deep breaths, thinking of the stickiness between your legs.

You really wanted to please him. He gave you so much pleasure, maybe not in person, but with his image. The way he moved, his noises… You paid for it all by watching advertising and acquiring subscriptions to sites that made you feel ashamed of yourself. But you also came so many times thinking of his eyes, his hands, his wide chest, his thighs... And now he was there, under your fingertips.

You wanted to give back.

You wanted to feel… To see him trembling under you, his eyes unfocused, lost in his own pleasure.

He snored, which made you chuckle. You could wait.

[deliciouskeys]

Cozy Corner Domaystic Prompt #18: Snow Day

Maevlander, 2.5K, rated T. AO3 link.

Jan 23 2016

“I just don’t really understand,” Homelander grumbles, pacing back and forth in front of the large glass wall in Maeve's apartment, periodically stopping and looking out the window.

“Which part don’t you understand,” Maeve asks wearily, not looking like she really wants an answer, still in pajamas, still lounging in bed vaping as she stares blankly at the TV screen mounted on the wall with the news on silent, the red ticker-tape at the bottom listing school and university closings in New York and New Jersey. “It’s a city-wide travel ban. Vought headquarters had to close for business today and tomorrow. I’m sure some people came in anyway.”

“I don’t remember New York City shutting down because of a little snow in recent years. Don’t we pride ourselves on infrastructure? Don’t tell me they can’t clear the roadways. And come on, Vought should be one of the last places to shut down because of a little weather!”

“John, it’s literally the weekend. And there’s like three feet of snow on the ground.”

“They said 29 inches.”

“Well however much it is, it’s enough for them to declare an emergency.”

Homelander leans his forehead against the glass staring down. “If it’s really so dangerous, why is Central Park full of people sledding?”

Maeve cocks her head. “You really don’t know what to do with yourself on a day off, huh.”

“Nooo...” Homelander drags out the word, trying to be patronizing but Maeve is unfazed. “I’m just saying. I could clear the roads in an hour all by myself if the mayor or governor thought to ask.”

“I’m sure you could.” Maeve rolls her eyes.

“What, you don’t think so? I could melt Manhattan in a fifteen minute flyby.”

“Yeah, people will be delighted to see you light every street on fire.”

“I wouldn’t be setting anything on fire.” Homelander sounds defensive and it makes Maeve smile.

“Nobody asked you to melt anything,” Maeve says, groaning. “Why can’t you just give things a rest and let people enjoy a snow day?”

“Because it’s dangerous! Ambulances can’t get through. Just because there’s a snow day you think people stop having heart attacks?”

“I never knew you were so concerned about people not being able to get to the hospital. Maybe you should go on runs for the hospitals yourself then. Airlift the people having heart attacks.”

Homelander makes a scoffing sound, still staring intently out the large wall-window, the poor people who dared to go sledding on a Saturday not knowing that they were being scrutinized and judged from 90 floors up and 10 blocks away.

“So saving people is beneath you, but standing there bitching about how few people came into work today isn’t? You can really tell you never got to experience a snow day in childhood, Mr. Grinch.” 

Homelander turns toward her sharply at the last part. Maeve wonders if she’s gone too far now that his gaze has been torn away from the rabble on the ground and directed at her. It's never a good idea to bring up his childhood. But he cracks a smile instead of getting angry at her bluntness and walks over to the bed, sweeping his cape off to the side before sitting down.

“Fine, Maeve, enlighten me. Tell me what makes snow days so fucking magical.” The sarcasm in his tone is off the charts, but his gloves are off and Maeve has learned to recognize that that’s a sign that he wants intimacy, no matter what he says or how it sounds. She cautiously slides her hand into his and she can see an endearing uncertainty and neediness flicker across his face, his expression settling into something softer.

“It’s nothing complicated. You’d wake up in the morning and pray for the robocall to your parents’ landline to tell them school was out. And if you were lucky enough to have a snow day, you had the entire day free to play in the snow.”

“Like, what, build snowmen?”

Maeve smiles at the defensiveness of his tone. He’s so intent on proving to her that he didn't miss out on anything important. 

“When you’re little, yeah. Snowball fights, snowmen, snowforts. When I was a bit older, my dad would take me skiing sometimes.”

“Is skiing fun?” Homelander asks, looking away from her and staring off into a corner of the room, but still holding her hand.

“Yeah. I haven’t done it in a while. But when I was seven, I got my own skis and everything. It’s cheap thrills for a kid, I suppose. You can speed up like all hell if you go down a steep enough slope."

“Would you like to go skiing?” Homelander asks, and despite some misgivings Maeve realizes that she would like to. She relents and says yes. Anything has to be better than being cooped up in the Tower having an argument in her apartment about why people have no work ethic.

Homelander seems to brighten right up when she asks to go. Maybe Maeve underestimates how lonely and lost he feels without a daily agenda, without a script telling him where to be and what to do for most of the day. She's saved him from unstructured time.

“You’re going in that?” Homelander asks, wrinkling his nose slightly at the civilian winter clothes she's changing into.

“You don’t really expect me to ski in my skimpy uniform, do you?”

Homelander shrugs. “I’m just going as I am.”

“Yeah, you won’t be the only douchebag on the slopes wearing spandex, so you might as well.” Maeve looks him over. “You don’t think you can leave the cape at home?”

Homelander gives her a look that says she must be crazy to suggest that.

He flies her in his arms all the way to New Hampshire, where there’s plenty of snow but no blizzard going on, and where the slopes turn out to be more crowded than either of them would probably like.

They have to rent skis of course. Maeve is about to pay for both of them but the employees frantically shake their heads, and assure her it's on the house and that it’s such an honor that she and Homelander have decided to grace their humble ski resort with their presence. Maeve is pretty sure they wouldn’t have recognized her had her partner in crime been wearing anything slightly less conspicuous than full regalia.

Homelander looks skeptical when he’s asked to try on ski boots. As if the boots he came in with are any less of a fashion faux pas, Maeve smiles to herself. The poor teenager helping them starts to visibly sweat when Homelander waves him off dismissively after he offers them helmets. The staff are starstruck and ask for selfies with the two heroes, and a picture of the two of them to hang up on the bulleting board. Homelander and Maeve indulge them for a few minutes before finally heading outside with skis and poles in hand.

“Why are these boots so awkward?” Homelander asks as he follows her out of the lodge and into the snow.

“Because they’re not for walking,” Maeve grumbles. Homelander watches and mimics her as she puts the skis on. She should be grateful that he’s humoring any of this at all. Even if she’s wondering whether she’d enjoy this outing a lot more alone, there is something entertaining about seeing Homelander navigating mundane everyday life with none of his usual self-assurance.

She leads him to the ski lift, the people in line behind them clearly debating whether these were real celebrities or just really good cosplay. Homelander ends up signing a few autographs before Maeve tugs him forward to get in position for the lift.

“So this is just to bring people up the mountain?” he questions, looking around and swinging his skis like a bored kid. And maybe that’s what he is, Maeve thinks.

“Yeah,” she says. As they ski down the small ramp at the top of the lift, Homelander is clearly just taking his cues from her. Maeve hasn’t done this in so long that she hesitates and turns toward the intermediate difficulty slope. Homelander simply follows. He glides with relative ease for someone who’s never been on skis before. Then again, Maeve realizes that he’s not really skiing. As they head down the slope, she decide to stop abruptly. He glides down a little bit past her before halting and skiing himself backwards up the slope to stand in parallel with her.

Maeve smirks. Just as she thought. “Quit being creepy.”

“What?” he asks, and seems genuinely confused.

“What you’re doing isn’t skiing. Stop hovering and put your full weight on the snow.”

Homelander shrugs and visibly settles himself deeper into the snow’s surface.

“Skiing is about getting momentum from sliding down the mountain on two thin pieces of wood, not flying around pretending to ski.”

Maeve expects him to roll his eyes or get defensive and snarky. But Homelander just stares at her and even nods slightly as if she’s some guru dropping knowledge on him.

“You pivot and turn abruptly to stop. You can use your poles to help push off and change direction.” He’ll get annoyed at being tutored at some point, right?

But Homelander still nods. And before Maeve can push off herself, he starts down the slope, looking much less smooth this time, apparently testing things out, trying to do it by her rules. She still suspects he’s using his powers when he stops and looks back at her as if to ask ‘did I do it right this time?’ She skis down to join him.

“Yeah just like that. You’re getting the hang of it.”

They finish the run and get back on the lift, more and more of the crowd at the bottom wisening up to the fact that they’ve got a celebrity among them, but Homelander signs fewer autographs this time before getting on the lift again.

Maeve's getting strangely emotional, sitting here, legs dangling far above the treetops, feeling like she’s gone back in time, almost forgetting who this is. Homelander isn’t her dad. They’re nothing alike, even if she hates both of them. And yet, sitting here in the lift chair takes her back to the times she misses so much, before her dad impressed upon her that becoming part of a Vought-sponsored team should be her goal in life.

“Sorry, I know the lift must be boring when you can just ski up the mountain,” Maeve says. She doesn’t know why she’s apologizing.

Homelander shakes his head. “I don’t mind. I like sitting here with you.”

When he wraps his arm around her, Maeve can’t believe she starts crying. Homelander looks confused and retracts his arm.

“Did- did I hurt you?” he asks, and there’s not an ounce of disdain in his voice, only worry.

“No, it’s nothing,” Maeve says, laughing it off and furiously wiping the tears away. “I just remembered the last time I went skiing with my dad. We never really got along. But I did like to go skiing with him.”

Homelander looks at her, and– even though he can’t possibly understand how she feels– uncannily enough manages to look sympathetic, and she doesn’t even flinch when he wraps his arm around her again, squeezing her closer.

The moment is only ruined by a wolf whistle from the chair behind them.

Homelander’s head starts swiveling back but Maeve pushes his chin back so he keeps facing her. She doesn’t even mind when he takes that as a prompt to start kissing. It’s gentle and feels maudlin– the way he prefers it and she doesn’t. When he’s like this, she can almost forget how violently possessive he gets over her, can almost forget how Vought forced her to hide her sexual past and pretend Elena doesn’t exist. Can almost forget how she was forced into a relationship with him– first a PR one for the ratings, then a “real” one, still for the ratings. Can almost forget that Madelyn Stilwell volunteered all sorts of tips about how to navigate his capricious mood swings and exploit some of his strange vulnerabilities, which made Maeve wonder what sort of relationship they had and may still be carrying on. No, she won’t think about any of that while they’re sitting on this ski lift together, the air cool and crisp around them, his skis overlapping with hers.

She decides to go down the black diamond side this time. People gawk. Maeve feels invigorated, brave, fulfilled, and heads over the bumps so fast that she does end falling into the snow ungracefully. Homelander skis up beside her, looking concerned even though she gets up laughing, wiping snow from her face and hair with the back of her gloved hand.

“You okay there?” he asks, clearly not worried that she hurt herself, but maybe a little worried at other skiers witnessing this. There is someone who stopped further up the slope and whipped out his phone, probably filming all this.

“Yeah. Falling’s part of the fun,” she says. “You should try it sometime.”

“No thanks,” he bites off tersely.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get that cape wet,” she mumbles under her breath as she starts heading down the slope again. She knows he heard her, no matter how quietly she said it.

They keep skiing even after sundown, just like she used to do when she was a child, not bothering to take a break for a meal. Truthfully, she has no interest in walking into the lodge cafeteria and creating a commotion of people wanting selfies and autographs. Homelander is just taking her cues, following her around like a puppy the entire time. He doesn’t deign to fall over, not even for her sake, but he takes the lift up each time, never insisting on being an asshole and skiing up the slope or flying to show off. She suspects sitting on the lift with her is actually his favorite part of this whole escapade leaving Vought Tower for the day.

“Still bitter about the snow day?” she asks playfully on one of their more silent trips on the lift when he seems lost in thought.

He’s staring off into the distance with a strange look on his face, then seems to look down and study his skis. “I did have snow days as a child,” he says. “They just weren’t very fun.”

She tenses a little bit. When Homelander reminisces about his childhood it’s often the death knell of any fun, normal interaction between them, and a turn toward a morose angry mood. But he looks calm. 

“When there was a snow emergency, only a skeleton crew would come to work in the lab. Nobody interacted with me. Most of the scientists would stay home. The whole building was much quieter than usual. They never did experiments on me on those days, I guess, but it wasn’t a good tradeoff. I’d sit there listening to the snow landing on the roof of the building, without really knowing what it was. I’d only seen it in pictures and movies. I didn’t even imagine that it’s something wet.”

Maeve feels herself shudder and quickly pretends it’s because she’s cold, prompting Homelander to hug her in closer. He even wraps his cape around her, and she knows he hardly ever uses that for anything so utilitarian. She’s not going to let him know she shudders whenever she hears yet another tidbit about his lab days and realizes anew that the way he was raised means he can never be a balanced, pleasant person, and that it’s a miracle that he can mimic people enough to blend in. Vought have managed to raise an alien creature on earth.

Homelander leans his head in even closer and whispers “Can we have sex tonight? When we get back?” in a wheedling tone, and she nods automatically without even thinking, terrified of him and at the same time full of pity.

A smile spreads wide on his face and he releases her from the embrace as they near the top of the lift and prepare to ski off.

A/N: This blizzard was a real thing :)

[familyvideostevie]

may I humbly suggest a cute lil winter date with Steve or Eddie whoever u prefer like going ice skating or something and bf is NOT good at it hehehe it’d be so cute

ok my darling i took this and ran in a different direction but i hope you like it anyway!! here is very short sweet stuff about steve not being able to make a snowman very well <3 | fluff, 0.8k, gn!reader

___

"If you keep laughing at me I'm going to go inside," Steve says. He frowns at you from his place on the ground as he half-heartedly pats the ball of snow he's been working on for almost 10 minutes.

"I'm not laughing," you say, laughing. "It's just--" You abandon your shaping of the base of the snowman and get on your knees across from him, placing your gloved hands over his. "This is the biggest snowman head I've ever seen, Steve."

He rolls his eyes at you. You have to swallow another laugh, this one hitting you for the same reason -- he's so handsome you can hardly believe it. Here in the cold, on his knees in the snow, he's the prettiest thing you've ever seen. His cheeks are flushed and the tip of his nose is pink and he's a little puffed up from the three sweaters he put on in lieu of a real coat. His hat is askew, one ear showing more than the other, and you reach out to tug it down.

"Quit it," he says, but he doesn't move away from your touch, allowing you to fuss over him as he crinkles his nose. "Is it really that bad?" he asks, eyeing his snowman's head dejectedly. "I was always shit at this."

"No, not that bad," you tell him and mean it. "But if we let Dustin see it..."

"Asshole will never let me hear the end of it," he sighs. "Alright, how do we fix it?"

It's the ease with which he says we that makes your heart race like always. No matter how long you're together, how many mornings you wake up next to him, how many times he tells you how he feels, you sometimes can't believe that he's yours. He's Steve.

You both start to pull off chunks of snow to make the ball a normal head size, swatting at each other like kids the whole time. The laughter of the rest of your friends is clear in the chilly air as they search for sticks and whatever else they're going to saddle your snowman with.

"You cold?" he asks you. I love you, he's saying. It makes you the opposite of cold. You raise your eyebrows at him but he looks at you innocently.

"Are you trying to cop a feel right now, Steve Harrington?" He grins at you and rolls the slightly less misshapen head to the side so he can shuffle closer on his knees.

He shrugs. "Depends," he says. "Will you let me?" You stop patting the snow and settle back onto your heels, pretending to consider it.

"No," you say. He throws his head back and looks at the sky like it's personally offended him. Always so dramatic, your Steve. "But I guess my...lips are cold."

He looks at you with naked delight. "Oh my god," he says. "That was so bad." He pulls one of his gloves off with his teeth and says something else that you can't make out.

"Don't tease me, loverboy," you say. He reaches for you with a bare hand, gently cupping your jaw. His skin on yours is warm.

"I said that I just have to kiss you," he replies. "Don't you know by now that bad flirting is, like, the key to my heart?"

You laugh right as he kisses you, your smile big against his mouth. His fingers press firmly into your jaw as he leans into you and you kiss him back properly, pulling his lower lip between yours. Any cold you felt is quickly chased away.

"Alright, what the hell are you guys doing over there?" Dustin calls. Steve pulls away from you with a sigh. "That thing on the ground better not be the hea--"

"Not a fucking word about the head, Henderson," Steve says. He's still close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin, and his eyes roam over your face, crinkling at the corners as he smiles. "Unless you want snow down your collar."

"Steve," you chide. "We really should fix it." He rubs his nose against yours, his bare hand firm on your neck and the other still gloved one gripping your hip through your coat.

"Nah," he says. "They can finish. Let's go get the hot chocolate going." He pecks your mouth one more time before releasing you and hauling you up to your feet.

"You mean let's go make out in the kitchen after we put milk on the stove?" you tease.

"Now that's a great idea," Steve says, mouth agape in mock surprise. He grabs your hand and tugs you towards the front door, ignoring the calls from the kids. "Seriously, it's like you took the words right out of my mouth."