#he would've been so handsome soft baby

[navybrat817]

In a Red Dress

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky has to debrief after a mission, so you decide to stop in for a visit. In a red dress.

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Established relationship, explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, possessive behavior, dirty talk, flirting, teasing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Happy FriYAY! I started this in January for @tumblin-theworldaway and finally finished it today. Love you, Aqua! I hope you can relax soon. Could be considered a follow up to With a Bang. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Your heels clicked along the floor as you left the elevator, reminding yourself for the umpteenth time that it wasn't Bucky’s fault that his team extended their mission for another day. Unforeseen circumstances were to blame, completely out of his control. You also couldn't hold it against him that he had to debrief after he messaged you that he arrived back home safely and unharmed. It was part of the job. Still, you missed him and wanted a bit of attention.

Which was why you showed up at S.H.I.E.L.D. in a silky red dress and Bucky’s dog tags under your coat. No bra, no panties. Which he realized when you walked into the conference room, unannounced, and removed your coat.

It was fun to put the fire in his steel eyes.

“Welcome home, Bucky,” you smiled as the room went silent. “Don’t mind me. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Your burly boyfriend was out of his seat and didn't tear his gaze away from you, the tension thick as you tossed the coat away. Today was a good day for your self confidence. You wore it like a second skin, feeling as beautiful on the outside as you did inside. You knew you looked good enough to eat and you wanted him to devour you.

And as much as you loved him in his black shirt and tactical pants, it hid the wall of muscle you wanted to trace with your hands and tongue.

“Hey, baby. Fancy seeing you here,” he said, his eyes dropping to your chest. Your nipples hardened against the fabric and you wished he’d latch his mouth to them. “And speaking of home, I thought I was going to meet you there.”

Your shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I got impatient since you were late. Plus I wanted to show you my dress,” you said, doing a happy twirl. It was reminiscent of New Years. The soft fabric hugged your body tight like your black dress did, but this one left little to the imagination. “What do you think?”

Steve, ever the good friend, averted his gaze, but a scowl crossed Bucky’s handsome face when you both realized that other agents looked your way. You hadn't expected to be the center of attention for anyone else, but it didn't matter to you if others looked. Why would you want them when Bucky had you under his spell?

At least they were smart enough to look away when Bucky’s metal hand clenched.

“Well? Do you like it? I thought the dog tags were a nice touch,” you added, running a finger along them when he remained silent. “They really do go well with everything.”

“Come here,” he said, beckoning you with a metal finger. You knew he meant business when he didn't use his dominant hand. “Now.”

You maintained an aura of innocence as you walked toward him, watching him his lips as your hips swayed.

“I can see your nipples through your dress,” he said low enough for just the two of you, but poor Steve with his enhanced hearing likely picked up on it. “And I’m pretty sure I didn’t give you permission to wear a dress like that in front of other guys.”

Any other guy who said that to you would've been smacked, but hearing it from him only made your eyes fill with amusement as you tilted your head. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to wear this, Sergeant.”

“Baby,” he whispered. You knew what calling him by his rank did to him.

“I should be able to wear what I want and when I want to. We both know that,” you continued, sliding your finger down his chest instead of poking it like he expected. “But you have my permission to break someone's fingers if they try to touch what belongs to you. Because I do belong to you.”

Your declaration fueled the fire within. There was no hesitation on your part. No doubt. And after being apart for a short time, you wanted him to hear you say you were his girl.

“Yeah, you do. You’re mine,” he said with a raspy touch of confidence that would’ve soaked your panties had you been wearing any. “And I’m all yours, but I still need to debrief.”

You huffed, but the conviction in his tone was admirable. “Fine. I’ll just wait here,” you said when he frowned. Both of you knew the classified information wasn’t meant for your ears, yet no one spoke up for you to leave. Were they afraid of pissing your boyfriend off? “You know, I really do love that grumpy look of yours. It gets me so wet.”

Bucky’s cheek twitched when one of the men coughed. “You're being a fucking tease.”

“Is it teasing if I let you have me?” You asked, tapping your chin. “Teasing you would be letting you go to bed with blue balls.”

Wordlessly, he lifted a hand and clutched the dog tags. He yanked on them hard enough to move you closer, his eyes not leaving yours when you gasped and shivered from the heat-filled look. You considered it a win that you didn’t collapse. Because he was going to destroy you and you’d love every second of it.

“Be very careful what comes out of your mouth next, baby,” he warned.

You smiled, more than ready to give him one more push. “I’m more interested in what’s supposed to go inside my mouth.”

His nostrils flared when you opened your mouth and showed him your tongue and throat. He put a hand on the back of your neck and tilted your head back, lightly nipping at your skin below your jaw. “I should put you on your knees and fuck your throat in front of everyone. Or put you over my knee and spank you ‘til you squirm. Show ‘em that you really are mine.”

You giggled, a soft and tempting sound. “Why fuck my throat when my pussy is nice and wet for you?”

“Gentlemen. I think the Bravo Conference Room is available. Let’s finish this up there,” Steve announced, his chair scraping against the floor and pulling you out of your spell. “Told you that you should’ve just gone home, jerk.”

“Fuck off, punk,” Bucky said, keeping a firm hand on you so you couldn’t look at any of the men filing out. The smirk he gave you was nothing short of predatory once the door clicked shut, leaving the two of you alone. “Since you need my cock so badly that you can’t wait until I get home, bend over that table and let me give it to you.”

Your giggle quickly died in your throat when you realized he was serious. “You’ve never fucked me in one of the debriefing rooms. Someone could walk in,” you reminded him.

Yeah, you showed up wearing what you did. Yeah, you teased him. But it was all in good fun. He wouldn’t actually fuck you on the table.

Right?

Your cheeks grew hot at the next words out of his mouth. “You think I give a shit about if someone walks in?”

He let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist, carefully dragging you to the table. You loved every part of him, but something about his unashamed want of you made your heart soar. Maybe it was because of how much he healed and allowed himself to have a piece of happiness. That some part of him from his past, the man he used to be, surfaced and blended in with who he was now.

Heaven sent and survived the depths of Hell.

“Now, I should spank your ass raw for this little stunt you pulled. Letting them see you in this dress,” he said without any real threat behind his words. “But I won’t do that until we’re home.”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes,” you smiled, expecting him to bend you over. But he brought a hand to your cheek instead. “Bucky?”

His gaze moved to your lips as he murmured, “Not fucking you until I kiss you.”

His mouth met yours not in a frenzy, but with a smile. The kind that told you how happy he was to be back with you. It wasn’t long before he shifted, the hand on your cheek slipping to your chin so he could deepen it. The soft slip of his tongue ignited your entire body, feeling his heart beat faster as you brought a hand to his chest. A reminder that he was alive, home, and loved you.

You loved him, too.

Your eyes stayed shut for a few seconds after he pulled away. “Missed you, Bucky,” you whispered.

“Missed you, too,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “Now bend over.”

The air rushed from your lungs at the switch from want to tenderness to need, your chest pressed against the table as he pushed your dress. Part of you wondered if he would’ve made good on his threat and fuck you in front of the other agents. He liked to toe the line of wanting to show others you were his and not wanting them to see intimate parts of you.

Which made you wonder what he’d do if someone walked in. He said he didn’t give a shit, but would he stop and try to cover your body with his own? Or would he keep fucking you?

You wouldn't mind either way.

“Spread ‘em,” he ordered, which you immediately obeyed. The low whistle made you shut your eyes before he dragged a finger along your exposed slit. “Didn’t even bother covering your pretty pussy with underwear. Probably best since you would’ve ruined them with how wet you are.”

“You’ve ruined all of my panties, Bucky,” you said, the distinct sound of his belt buckle and pants zipper making you moan. “And I’m ready for you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? Your pussy ready to stretch around my cock?” He asked, making you shriek when he unexpectedly brought his flesh hand down hard on your ass. He only used the metal when you were in real trouble. “You better not have fucked yourself with a toy before you got here.”

“I didn’t! I haven’t even touched myself,” you promised before he stretched over your back. “I just need you in me.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And though you interrupted my debriefing and I may need to stab a teammate or two, you’re still my good girl. And good girls deserve rewards,” he growled in your ear, nipping it for good measure as you moaned. The head of his cock teased your entrance, your core clenching in anticipation. “I’ll fuck you and you’ll come all over me, just like you want and just like I need. And you’ll take it ‘til I’m done with you.”

You reveled in being his good girl, even when you were bad. How no one else could take his cock the way you could. How he made you soak your sheets day and night with your essence because being fucked by Bucky Barnes made you gush like a geyser. It was obscene.

“I’m your good girl and I’ll take everything you give me,” you said sweetly, knowing he’d fuck you whether you said it or not. “So let my pussy welcome your cock home, please?”

The soft kiss to your neck was almost like an apology before he pushed into you, both of you moaning. He’d check later to make sure you weren’t sore since he didn’t stretch you at all, but the slight ache when he bottomed out always bordered more on pleasure than pain. The overwhelming sensations of him inside you made your eyes roll back and he hadn’t even started thrusting.

“So fucking warm. And wet,” he grunted in your ear when he finally moved, his pants rubbing against your bare thighs. “Jesus fuck, you’re soaking me.”

Bucky robbed you of your breath when he leaned up and gripped your hips, hammering into you. You tried to grip the table, but all you could do was let him pull you back and forth. He was relentless like this, powerful, dominant. Making you take it, just like he said you would. Funny how minutes ago you were the one confidently teasing him and now you were a whining, needy mess. All because his cock shut your brain off.

You didn’t need to think like this anyway. You could be his doll, just for him to play with and love. In your pretty red dress or nothing at all.

“Harder, Sergeant,” you begged, your moans spurring him on.

“Not hard enough for you? Needy little thing,” he groaned, the sound of him burying himself inside you over and over echoing in your ears. “Missed this cunt. Missed you.”

Your pussy gripped him tight, the heady bliss making your vision blur. “Missed you. M… Missed your cock,” you slurred.

He chuckled, not slowing his pace as he leaned back down to tickle your cheek with his scruff. “So fucking cute when you get drunk on my cock.”

You wondered some days where he learned to talk dirty before you remembered that you had a large hand in that. He loved telling you how greedy your pussy made him. How he loved watching his spend slide out of you so he could fuck it back in. How he’s shocked some days that he can fit inside you, so he must’ve turned you into a perfect cocksleeve.

His cock made your mind numb, but your pussy made him run his mouth.

“Gonna make you sit on it when we get home. Fuck, gonna make you ruin the sheets when I fuck you into the mattress,” he rambled, making you moan louder. You didn’t care who heard. Let them hear what he did to you. What he turned you into: his needy slut. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you moaned, his thrusts pushing your breasts harder against the table, your nipples hard and aching for him to touch them. He would later. You could wait. But you couldn’t wait to fall over the precipice. “‘M gonna come.”

“Do it. Won’t stop you,” he encouraged. He no doubt felt how close you were with how you clenched around him, your back starting to arch. “C’mon, baby. Come all over me.”

Your eyes fluttered as your body tensed, your walls pulsing around him your orgasm surged like a tidal wave. The ripples tore through you, ebbing and flowing as you moaned his name. If you could drown in pleasure, you’d want his name to be the last word that spilled from your lips.

“That’s my girl,” he praised as your limbs went lax.

You throbbed around him until he pulled out, making you whimper since he didn't come. You wanted him to finish inside you. He had you on your back with your legs spread wide before you could beg for it, keeping your dress up as he speared you once again. He thrust fast, needing his release just as badly as you needed yours.

“Need to see your face when you milk my cock,” he grunted, licking his thumb and bringing it to your clit. You whined, jerking underneath him as he rubbed the swollen nub. “Oh, stay still. You can give me one more.”

You almost denied him before you felt the coil tighten within you again. You never thought you could have back-to-back orgasms until you started sleeping with him. But it shouldn’t have surprised you. He played you like his favorite instrument and you were his good girl.

You could give him one more.

“Come with me,” you panted, staring into his darkened eyes as his face twisted in ecstasy only you could provide him. “Please.”

He couldn’t resist that last bit of begging.

The waves crashed again, adding to your first high, as his mouth opened in a groan, filling you in hot spurts. Watching him tip over the edge was a sight to behold, his cheeks tinged as his hips stilled and both of you tried to catch your breath. He laid across you after a moment, the weight of him making you sigh.

“Welcome back,” you smiled as your breathing evened out.

He stayed inside you as he brushed his lips against yours. You were going to make a mess all over the table when he pulled out, but it was worth any grief either of you got. “Good to be back,” he whispered, his hand on your cheek again in a tender display as his eyes scanned your face. “So beautiful.”

“Me fucked out or the dress?” You smiled.

“Both,” he smiled back, your face warm.

“Thank you,” you breathed, your heart still racing fast. You suddenly wished you were in bed so he could properly hold you. But he’d have you home soon enough for that. “Hope I didn't get you into any trouble,” you added. That was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Steve gets it,” he assured you, briefly closing his eyes when you brushed your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry we got back late. He’s right. I should've just gone right home.”

Your heart clenched a little at that. Missions were important and not easy on either of you, but it was his job. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you made it home safely,” you said, arching your back. The table wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were too fucked out to care.

You also didn't want to be apart from him since he was back.

He wrapped an arm underneath you to ease some of your strain. “Still teased me by showing up like this. I might fuck your throat and put you over my knee tonight,” he groaned, squeezing a breast through your dress before he straightened out the dog tags. “But then I’m going to hold you after and not let go.”

You smiled, looking forward to it. “Yes, Sergeant.”

And you'd be sure to thank Steve later for clearing out the room so you could welcome your man home.

Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business! Hehe. 😇 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[quintinh43]

Slow Mornings | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn has a rare day off

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Warnings: Food? I love yous?

Notes: Hi guysss!! This is my first fic! I'm pretty excited about it. Although I rewrote it nearly five times, haha. Feel free to leave any criticism, and I hope yall enjoy! Love Soph.

---

On the very rare off days that Quinn had during the season, you had made a habit of taking the day off work so you could spend it together. Today was one of those days.

Light filtered through the curtains, accentuating the high points of Quinns face. You looked up at him from where your head was resting on his chest, a loving look in your eyes. You traced your fingers over his cheek bones, and down his jaw.

The short stubble tickled your fingers, and you couldn't help but smile. You loved it when he didn't shave, he looked so rugged and handsome with a short beard. You trace your fingers back up his jaw and cheeks, to his hairline, where you gently run your fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his face.

Quinn hummed a breath, tightening his arms around your waist pulling you fully on top of him. You cup his face with both hands, pressing small kisses to his face. From the tip of his hair line, over his fluttering eyelids, down the bridge of his nose, and across his cheeks. As you kiss one corner of his mouth he mumbles a "g'morning baby"

"Good morning, Quinn," you grin, kissing the other corner of his mouth. He turned his head in an attempt to chase your lips for a real kiss. "Kiss me," he mumbled, fingers stroking up and down your sides.

"I've been kissing you," you say, giving him a teasing peck on the nose. Quinn opens one eye to glare at you. "Kiss me for real"

As much as you want to tease him, and keep kissing him everywhere but his lips, he looks so angelic in the gray morning light that you can't help but give in to his request. You lean forward pecking him softly on the lips. Just as you pull away, Quinn hand snakes around the back of your neck, pulling you back down for one more kiss.

"Quinn," you mutter against his lips.

"Mmhmm"

"I'll kiss you as much as you want after we brush our teeth"

Quinn groans, but he knows you have a point. As much as he loves kissing you, morning breath on either you wasn't pleasant. "Come now," you say, wriggling out of his grip "its nearly eleven, we should eat"

"I'm comin," He mutters, throwing an arm over his eyes. You give him one last peck on the lips before crawling out of bed, gathering a change of clothes, and heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face.

By the time you are finished in the bathroom, Quinn still hasn't gotten up. You can't help but smile at him. If it was any other day, you'd be tempted to drag him out of bed, but he hadn't had a day off in ages. After brushing your lips against his forehead, you close the bedroom door and start on coffee and breakfast, making sure there is extra coffee in the pot for when Quinn gets up.

You hum to yourself as you make breakfast, flipping waffles and frying sausages to the tune of Right Here Waiting. Just as you finish chopping fruit and laying the finished breakfast on the counter, a warm weight is draped over you.

Quinn wraps an arm around your waist and tucks his head in the crook of your neck. He smelled like toothpaste. You waddle over to the coffee machine, with Quinn attached to your back, and pour him a cup of coffee, topping yours off while you are at it.

"I brushed my teeth," he mumbles against your neck. You nudge his head up, your hand caressing his face. The smile he gives you so soft, warmth floods your body. Everything feels like sunshine. If you could bottle this moment and keep it forever, every struggle that led to this moment would've been worth it.

The thought is almost enough to bring tears to your eyes. "Oh Quinn, I love you so so much," you murmur. Quinn's eyes sparkle, and he captures your lips with his. He steps around you, so he's holding you from the front, one hand cupping your neck, thumbing over your pulse point, and the other resting at the small of your back.

He pulls away, pressing kisses to your forehead. "If I'd known brushing my teeth would get me this reaction, I would've brushed my teeth alot earlier"

You laugh, pulling him down for another short kiss. "Let's eat" you say, handing him his cup of steaming coffee. He takes it gratefully, not being able to resist giving you another peck on the head.

Quinn piles his plate with the food you made, and takes his spot on the couch, flipping on the TV while he waits for you. He watches with mild horror as you pile your waffles with sausage and eggs and top it off with maple syrup. Even though he's seen you do it a million times, it he would never get over it.

You sit at his side, pressed up against him, waiting for him to press play.

"Y/n" he murmurs against your hair

"Hmm?"

"I love you so so much too" he smiles, pecking you one last time on the head, before un-pausing the movie and digging in to his breakfast.

---

WC: 890

[luveline]

first of all CONGRATS ON YOUR AMAZING MILESTONE!!! Wowwwwwww I’m so happy for u 🥺💘💘💘 you deserve all the love and praise in the world!

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 + 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞

plsss I beg 🥺 either for tasm!peter or miguel o’hara or even joel miller 😭😭😭 I’d think about idiots in love… both pinning for each other but too oblivious to the others feelings. everyone can see it but them. if you can make it super fluffy I’d dieeeeee. I’m obsessed with all 3 of them but tasm!peter will always have my heart <3

hope u have the loveliest of days sweet ! 💘💘💘

luveline's 40k party ☆ thank you so much baby!! have a good day too ♡ shy fat fem!reader

"I look weird," Peter says. 

You bite your lip in surprise. Peter reaches for you like he might take your face into his hand, but you bow out of his touch. "No," you say, hissing at the sudden pain, "you look nice, you don't look weird." 

"A haircut was a bad idea. Now you're injured," he says with a laugh. 

You bring your hand away from your lip and find it unsullied. Peter wants to look anyhow, fighting you for a hand on your cheek. A couple of months ago you would've squirmed away from him, worried he'd feel the soft line of your jaw and drop his hand in disgust, but these days you let him do whatever he wants. 

"Pout at me," he demands. 

You, reluctant, poke your lip out. Peter has the gall to touch it with his thumb, seemingly unaware of the shiver it prompts. He smells like cherry gum today, a little wedge of it between his molars as he strokes your face and pushes you gently back into your chair. He's a sick individual, he doesn't even know what he's doing. Peter's joking and doting is done as your friend. 

"What inspired the haircut?" you ask. He hasn't gone too short with it since his first year of college, but the cute little flicks under his ears have been chopped. 

"Kept getting stuck in my hat." 

"What hat?" you ask. 

"My baseball cap." 

"Since when do you wear a baseball cap?" 

"Wouldn't you like to know," Peter croons, to the outrage of the women sitting across from you. They shush simultaneously, two pit vipers. 

You put your head down, sheepish. Peter rolls his desk chair closer to yours as he chuckles under his breath, to copy your notes no doubt, which is ridiculous. He's the smarter of the two of you. He speaks in mathematics like it's English, chemistry something innate. 

You knock your pencil into his hand, "Do your own work." 

"But you've already done it for me." Peter moves your hand aside, his naked arm rubbing up against yours, rigid cord against softer fat. "Thanks, beautiful." 

You roll your eyes at him but let him copy your work. After a few minutes you swear you can feel eyes on you, glancing up to find the pit vipers talking behind a laptop screen. They look at you at the same time and then quickly look away, spelling out for you what it is that's so interesting. People do this all the time, puzzling at you and Pete like it's insanity. The majority of people aren't as judgemental, but you can guess exactly what it is that they're thinking. Why is he spending his time with her? Handsome, muscled Peter and meek, chubby you. 

It's not the most important thing in your life, but it is a constant. Some people think fat is unlovable, and the rest love without qualm. Peter hasn't ever once been mean to you since he met you; your weight can't bother him. If anything, you'd think he quite likes the way you look. Peter's always calling you beautiful, pretty girl, telling you to get changed before you put other girls out. 

It's a shame he doesn't like you as anything more than a friend.

"I think those girls are looking at us," Peter whispers, pulling you toward him by the shoulder. It's not unlike him to touch you suddenly. "Is the haircut that bad?" 

"It looks nice, Pete!" you insist. 

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, rubbing his cheek against yours quickly. You choke through a laugh. "Daww," he says, "you're just saying that." 

He giggles as you push him away, "Get off me, you loon," you say. 

"You're the loon, loon," he says back. His cheeks are pinking. His sweater must be hotter than it looks.

"Can you just accept it, Peter? Your hair looks nice, you look great, stop worrying about what people think." You look away as you say it, startled by your own brazenness.

He gasps at you. "Hypocrite! You're the worst hypocrite ever, you're always worrying about what people think, and it's stupid because you're so pretty." He shakes his from side to side, eyes dramatically downcast. "Breaks my heart. A babe in denial." 

"Stop kidding around, we have too many assignments for this," you beg, tapping your pencil under the remaining questions you've yet to answer.

"A babe in denial and distress." 

You give up. He's overwhelmingly affectionate, homework sucks, and you're ashamed to know that if you flop down in defeat, he'll hug your arm. He always does. Diving into your space, Peter breathes cool cherry at your cheek as he says, "You know I'm gonna explain them to you until you get them, sweetheart. Don't stress." 

You put yourself in this position, but his closeness has your heart skipping. "I'm not stressed." 

"You're too cute to stress." 

"Pete…" 

"Sorry, I'll stop, I'm stopping. Pass your notebook, I'll fix your equation." 

You pass him your notebook without looking up. You need a few seconds to collect yourself. "Thank you, Peter." 

He sounds dangerously fond, the kind of tone that feeds your delusion, as though he could like you as you like him, "You're welcome." 

[postersofleon]

notes: i'm publishing my other stuff from my other account :p sorry if you already saw this. I didn't want to do it but here we are. it has smut so no minors

vendetta leon is a bit frustrated with the way his life turned into. he completely falls to the deep end and turns into a sugar daddy, though leon doesn't like being one. he wants someone to date him for being him, but he feels he is out of his prime. in his opinion, he was in his prime at twenty-seven but because he spent so many years working. he feels he is done for.

he then sees you. he feels like doesn't have a proper chance with you so he begins with small things. you two aren't dating, but he attempts to talk to you. he feels like a creep talking to you, but he tries so hard to talk. even though the poor bastard is wasting his poor liver, he is always sober around you. you begin to notice how he slowly stopped smelling like alcohol, how he smiles as he speaks to you.

he had needed this. he hasn't been able to talk to someone that didn't have to do with work. his stupid sugar daddy mindset comes through and buys you small gifts. he doesn't necessarily think he is unlovable, just hard to love; leon thinks buying gifts is the only way to get love. he has a bunch of it thanks to his job wasting his time.

the gifts are small. books, earrings - anything that you mentioned you liked. he feels pathetic, but when he sees your eyes shine, he smiles back.

then, when things were getting serious: he stupidity asked if he could be your sugar daddy. you thought he was going to ask you to date him. least to say, it was uncomfortable for both of you when you said no. leon wasn't angry for you saying no. he was ashamed. of course, sugar daddies are weird even in his lifestyle. though, you said you like to date him.

when dating this vendetta leon, leon is always commenting how old he is. he doesn't like the daddy kink. he feels like a creep. he shows you pictures in his youth: "this was me." he shows an ID of him before raccoon city and him during re4. you can tell he is proud. he doesn't necessarily have a dad bod, but he didn't work out like he used to. he is a bit soft around his arms, thighs, and stomach. a small defined abs appears every once in a while. you comment how handsome he is, and he laughs, "you should've seen when i was twenty-seven."

leon needs praise. constantly praise. he needs to pick up that poor ego that died a couple of years back. you see how he slowly starts be funny, they aren't dad jokes just one punch lines. he seems more relaxed that you two are dating. even his friends are commencing how he looks a bit better.

you love his stubble, he blushes, and he is embarrassed to do that. he feels young again. he feels... happy

leon doesn't necessarily have a breeding kink, but the idea of you being pregnant makes him happy. in his mind, he needs to hurry up and make babies, but you don't want kids or can't have kids he doesn't mind it.

nsfw

at first, sex was him constantly worried of you changing your mind on him. he wanted to fuck you hard so you won't forget him. he sucks ass sex talk, so he just shuts up and continues to fuck you.

but with the constant praise you gave him, the fucking turned into love making. he is whiny and tired, he wants to make you happy, but sex is a duo. he loves how you love his softness. he has a couple of stretch marks on his arms and a bit on happy trail.

he is always cursing on how you would've loved his old body, but you praise him every single time. he feel selfish when you give him blowjobs, he is pets your face, and a bit of his sexual frustrations comes out. he moves his hips a bit and makes you choke. leon groans weakly and says a weak apology. he is happy he stopped drinking

[oracle-of-dream]

Under the Nite Lights

Summary: He's not coming... is he? Even in the cold Winter weather, as the snow falls, you can't believe he'd leave you waiting.

Notes: Male Reader, Fluffy, Winter theme, Leehan is a romantic, Sun/Moon couple, Sleeping in the cold

Wordcount: 1k

Your fingers were numb. Your feet stung. It felt like your eyes would never open again from your frozen tears.

In the park, on a bench under a tree surrounded by snow. You shivered while watching couples strolling through. The Nite Lights had started and he still wasn't here–if he was ever coming at all... You pulled your coat tighter around you, the one he'd bought you. It faintly smelled like him too. But it only made the hole in your heart grow bigger at the thought that he wasn't here with you.

Every December, your hometown would make a big event of showing massive light displays in the park which stretched across town. And every year you'd go. This would've been the first year you wouldn't have to go alone... It was the best stop for couples. Every year, you watched so many pairs enjoying their time together, they hugged each other to stay warm and laughed as they walked. And every year, you'd watch alone from the bench as you thought about how it would be walking with someone special.

You'd begged your boyfriend, over and over to make sure he made time for this night. The one night that meant so much to you... But you were still alone on the bench. Just like every year before.

Your phone was dead from calling and texting him. Each attempt went unanswered. Where the hell could he be? Your mind wandered as you felt your eyes get heavier. Your breathing slowed as your head slumped back, feeling the snowflakes gently pepper your cheeks.

Why couldn't he be here... just for one night?

You could remember the first day you met him. Leehan was a customer in the cafe you worked at. His long hair was tied back as he carried textbooks to his seat, balancing too many books for him to handle. You'd guessed it–he fell and dropped the books everywhere. You rushed over to help him. And that's when you got a good look at his handsome face, pink with embarrassment as he hurried to clean up his mess. You split the load with him and helped him carry some of the books, and he left you a big tip as a thank you. You cleaned his table to find his number with a small drawing of you... It was so detailed and beautiful, in a way that you could never see yourself. On the back of the portrait, it said. "You're so beautiful, if the stars ever stopped shining, I'd call you to shine my nights for me." It was the goofiest pickup line you'd gotten while at that job, but it was the best thing you'd ever read. You called him after your shift and ended up seeing each other for a date later that week...

A voice echoed in your mind. "Y/n!? Baby!?"

Your body shook as your eyes peeled open, your frozen eyelashes straining to separate. It took a moment for your eyes to focus but you knew that voice... It was him. You spotted Leehan rushing around the park with a panicked look in his eyes, carrying a bouquet of white flowers–he was wearing the sweater you'd bought him too.

You cried as you stumbled to your feet. The effort it took to rip your body from the bench knocked you to the floor. Your needs buckled from the cold, and your throat ran dry. He came... He really did come! You tried to speak as loudly as you could, "Leehannie!" He turned around and relaxed when he saw you. His panic turned into a soft worry as he ran over to you.

Leehan knelt down and placed the flowers beside you as he checked on you. He dusted the snow out of your hair and wiped your tears. "Baby, I've been trying to call you. Why didn't you answer me?" Leehan rubbed his head against yours before pulling you into his arms, squeezing you tight. His voice shook as he whispered, "Please don't worry me like that... I don't know what I would've done if you'd vanished on me." He stroked your head while hugging you, taking shaky breaths.

"I thought you weren't coming..." You sniffled as you wiped your nose.

"How could I not come? This night's so special to you! You love watching the Nite Lights!"

"You didn't answer my calls or texts. I didn't know what to do..."

Leehan kissed you, his lips, two soft pillows for you to rest on. "I'm so sorry, baby. I was still stuck at work, then I went to get a surprise for you–by the time I tried calling you back, you weren't answering."

"My phone died."

Leehan stood up, pulling you to your feet. "That's okay–it happens... As long as you're safe. How long did you wait out here? You're almost blue!"

"...Three hours."

Leehan's eyes widened. "Three hours!? I'm an hour late to our date, right? Did I get the time wrong?"

"I wanted to look around alone first... Like I used to. Then I'd walk with you to see how it was different." You looked down at Leehan's flowers. "Are those for me?"

He scooped them up and gave them to you. "Some beautiful flowers for my beautiful boy," He said as he kissed your hands. Leehan stepped back and held his hand out to you. "I know I'm late, but would you still want to walk with me?"

The way the light shined on him, and the snow landed perfectly in his hair. He looked like a dream–a dream man in a Winter wonderland. You nodded, trying not to cry again. "I'd love to walk with you..."

Leehan smiled as he took your hand, leading you through the park. The two of you laughed and pointed out your favorite decorations–Leehan could name all the different fish ones. "Why are there fish in Winter? No one thinks about finishing in Winter. Maybe ice fishing?" Your heart swelled watching him talk about his fish facts. He was the cutest when he told you whatever you'd listen to. And for him, you'd listen for as long as he wanted.

Toward the end of the walk, Leehan stopped you.

"Remember that surprise I talked about?"

You nodded. Leehan pulled a small box out of his pocket. Inside were a pair of rings, silver bands with a Sun and a Moon.

"Will you shine in my days, and let me light your nights?" Leehan asked with a goofy smile–wiggling his eyebrows the way you liked.

"Of course, Moon Man." The nickname you gave him since his head was always in space.

"Thanks, Sunlight..." The nickname he gave you for bringing light into his life every day.

You put the rings on each other as you kissed under the Nite Lights. Your first year going with someone, and your last year going alone...

[ofstarsandvibranium]

My You-niverse: Richard Alonso Munoz

Fandom: Oscar Isaac

Pairing: Richard Alonso Munoz x F!Reader, throughout the series: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader

Summary: You and America get stuck portal jumping until you reach your universe again. In the meantime, you meet various versions of your husband.

Warning: mentions of domestic abuse

A/N: sorry its been almost a month since i last updated...i can't promise that it wont happen again.

Series Masterlist

"You've been coming around here a lot lately," you state as you take your mail from Richard.

"Dana's on maternity leave, so I'm taking over the women's block as well."

Your brows shoot up, "Oh. I didn't know she already had the baby. Tell her I said 'Congrats'."

Richard gives you a nod and a soft smile, "Will do."

_____________

Steven groans and wipes his mouth after throwing up. America gives him a sympathetic look, "Yeah, that happens sometimes."

"Strange, not that I don't enjoy all this universe hopping and what not, when will we find, Y/N?"

Stephen rolls his eyes at Marc's alter, "It's not like I put a tracking on her."

"There's no spell of some sort that could help us track her?" Steven asks in desperation.

Stephen thinks and then his eyes widen. He turns to Steven, "Do you have anything of Y/N's?"

Steven rummages through his pocket and pulls out a necklace, "Here. I gave this to her on our first wedding anniversary. She makes me hold it during missions because she doesn't want to lose it."

"Perfect. Hold it up." While Steven holds up your necklace, Stephen does several hand movements, creating different glowing magical shapes. He pushes the shapes to your necklace and it proceeds to glow. The light from it then fades and the necklace is just the same as it was.

"...soooo...what was that supposed to do?" America asks with a cocked brow.

"This," Stephen points to your necklace, "will glow if it senses any trace of Y/N."

America threw up her arms, "Why didn't you think of this earlier?"

"I didn't think of it until now."

Steven groaned, "Would've saved us a lot of time, mate, if you did!"

"Doesn't matter now. All that matters is that we're closer to finding Y/N." Stephen created a portal to the next universe, "Shall we carry on?"

____________________

Twenty-five years to life. Shit. Well, you suppose that's what you get for killing someone. That someone being your sister's abusive ass ex-husband.

"I'd do it again," you murmur, pushing your food around your tray while Richard sat across from you, "No one, especially my sister, deserves to be treated the way he treated her," you spoke, the memories this universe' version of you flooded your brain, "If I didn't do it, there would've been another woman after my sister that he'd use as his personal punching bag. I couldn't have that."

"I get it. I don't condone what you did, but I get it. I've read the letters your sister sends you. I can tell she's very grateful of you."

You nod and let out a deep breath, "So you probably know everyone's dirty secrets, huh? Having to read everyone's letters and whatnot."

Richard smooths over his mustache and shrugs, "I try not to really get into all. Just have to make sure no one is trying to break out of here or trying to hurt someone."

You smirk at him and lean in closer so that he could only hear you, "Have people sent nudes?"

He gave a nervous laugh, "Oh God," he shakes his head, covering his blushing face, "I'm surprised how many people send naked photos of themselves to these inmates."

"Oooouu, Ritchie!"

"I don't look at them long. Just to see it's nothing harmful and then set it back in the envelope." he scoffs, "I've seen more naked women here than I do outside of work."

Your brows rise in surprise, "Really?"

He shrugs, "Yeah, is that surprising?"

It's your turn to shrug, "I dunno. I just-you're sweet and funny and handsome. Thought you'd have someone to give you some lovin'."

Richard sighs, "Unfortunately, there is no love for me."

You prop your elbows up, resting your chin on your hand, "I'd date you if I wasn't locked up here."

"Yeah?" Now it's Richard who looks at you with surprise.

You nod, "Yeah. Like I said, you're sweet, funny, and handsome. Very understanding and a great listener."

One of the guards then announces that lunch is over and that everyone should be heading back to their cells.

You groan and hang your head low, "Guess I'll see you around, Ritchie."

_________________

"So all of these versions of Marc's are just a bunch of tossers, aren't they?" Steven says with a snort, but then he punches himself in the face.

"Shit!" he cries out, "Unnecessary!" He begins to start arguing with Marc.

America starts slowly moving away from them but closer to Stephen, "So, Doc, are we getting closer to finding Y/N?"

"I think so," he fiddles with your necklace in his hand, "It's getting warmer, so we might not be that far behind." He looks back at Steven and calls out, "If you two are done bickering, I'm sure you'd like to get back to finding your wife?"

Steven nods, "Right," he straightens his jacket, "Let's go then." He catches up to Steven and America.

He and America trail behind Stephen and as he follows wherever your necklace is leading him. He's fully concentrated on the task at hand.

America then speaks up, "So, Steven, I know Y/N and Marc are married, so does that mean you're married to her too?"

"I suppose yes, in a way," he holds up his left hand to show his wedding ring, "But technically no. On the marriage certificate, it's Y/N and Marc's name. To be fair, I was never really a relationship person. That's all Marc with the romance and sweeping her off her feet. It took me a while, but I've come to love her as well. There's no title, really. She's mine just as much as she is Marc's and vice versa."

The teen suddenly looks upset, "I really am sorry I got her into this mess."

"It's not your fault. Marc's pissed, yeah, but it's at himself. He gets hard on himself whenever something happens to Y/N. And this is unknown territory for, well, all of us. But Marc doesn't like being so blind to all of this."

"What about you? How are you feeling about all this?"

Steven chuckles, "It's rather thrilling, innit? Visiting multiple universes and timelines and all that?"

America chuckles, "Yeah, it's pretty cool. Maybe once I really get the hang of my powers, we can do this again sans losing Y/N and trying to get her back."

Steven winces and rubs his belly, "Maybe not for a while," remembering how many times he's thrown up already from the universe jumping.

America laughs, "Fair enough."

________________

Richard should be keeping watch of everyone else in the courtyard, but he can't. His attention is captured by you.

You're laying in the grass, soaking up as much sun as possible. He can tell you're at peace in this moment. He doesn't want to disturb you, but he can't help the pull that draws him to you.

He crosses the basketball court, to the area of grass that's starting to yellow as the summer heat is rolling in.

When he approaches you, your eyes are focused up at the sky.

Your eyes go to him and you smile, "Care to join me?" you pat the grass beside you.

He shakes his head, "I'm alright. I just wanted to check up on you."

You hum, eyes going back up at the sky, "When I look up, I'm taken away from this place. I'm not in prison, I'm somewhere else. Somewhere I'm free." You look back to him, "And you're there with me."

"Am I?" Richard gives a chuckle.

You nod, "Of course. You're sharing all of the poems that you've written and read to me." You sit up and turn to him, "Have you written anything new?"

"I'm...working on something."

"Can I get a sneak peek?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?!"

"Because I only want to show you when it's finished."

You hold up your hands in surrender, "Fine, fine. I won't budge."

You put your hands behind your head and lean back to lay back down. Once your head hits the grass, you're suddenly somewhere else.

You're on a cold floor. Standing above you is another version of your husband. His hair is slightly longer, more salt and pepper. He's also donning a beard similar to Nathan's.

"I win again, stardust." this version of Marc holds a baton towards you.

You groan, sitting up, "Ow."

He offers a hand to you and pulls you to your feet, "What's hurt?"

"My ego," you answer with a pout.

He gives a low chuckle and kisses your head, "You're fine."

"My Duke Leto," a man enters the room, "your meeting ," he reminds Leto, as you've learned his name.

"Right. I lost track of time." He hands you the baton, "Maybe you should join Paul in his lessons." he playfully nudges you.

"Ha ha."

Leto gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and heads for the door, "I'll see you at dinner, stardust."

You wave at Leto and then take a look around the room you're in. It's all stone of some sort. You walk towards the only window in the room and peer through it, seeing waves of water crash against a cliff.

The sky didn't look right. Were you on some other kind of planet?

[munsster]

i’m so glad u want to start writing for keys i feel like he’s pretty underrated on here </3 maybe something where him and reader have interacted a lot in the game and one recognizes the other’s voice in real life in public? idk i think that would be really cute! x

free life on earth

A/N: listennnn i consumed every tumblr fic i could find of him in one night and decided there was not enough nor will there ever be.

Pairing: Walter “Keys” McKey x GN!Reader

Summary: He thought he was just out getting coffee. But then he bumped into his cyber crush. 2.1k words.

Warnings: fluff, meet (?) cute, you know i had to put this in a coffeeshop, shamelessly awkward flirting, mutual pining, a teensy little accident kiss (unless…), cursing

He was fascinated. From the very beginning, despite how cliché and theatrical it sounds; he swore up and down he'd never go all puppy-dog-eyed again. And then you let out a whip of deafening expletives, and he swan dove right into a new obsession.

But saying obsession seemed too intense and creepy, so he's been calling it his online thing like it's a business meeting. Like he's not lovesick and doting and you have no idea he's worming himself around your little finger.

"You've gotta be—Keys! Don't fucking throw that while I'm standing right here."

The laugh rips out of him and jolts him back in his chair. To think that the limited amount of time he spends not working on this godforsaken game he happens to spend playing the game. He must have something wrong with him. He drops the flashbang back into his inventory and scuttles over to your crouched avatar.

"Sometimes I wonder why they let you graduate," you poke, swiveling in circles in the wavering shade of a big tree, blank eyes staring up at the sky.

"Hey, if I didn't graduate, we never would've met."

You chuckle. "Oh, Keys, life would be so horrible without you"—you click your tongue and your avatar's knees straighten, and his heart shouldn't skip a beat the way it does with your digital face this close to his—"because I have nothing better to do than sit at my desk all day and talk to a stranger on the internet."

"A handsome stranger," he teases.

"I'm logging off."

"Wait—"

"Nope!"

"Come on," he whines, "you know you love me."

Curse him with that sometimes confidence and all-the-time charm. And maybe that's the one thing you don't know. He smoked you out just to get at you while unassuming and lovely. You blink hard just to realize you've gone a little blurry, and the sun slices through your blinds and glares against your monitor.

"Is it light where you are?" you mumble, a songbird cooing and flapping away outside your window. His character goes still, no longer shuffling across the grass, just still. Strands of his hair animated to flow. It makes you smirk every time you think of it.

"Yeah, think so. Geez—"

"What if I was a stalker? Now I know the sun is up for you. That eliminates like... a lot of places," you say, very proudly and kind of worried. You don't rest well as it is, and now this boy might be giving out his address to random users.

"Okay, but is the sun rising or setting?"

"...Maybe it's neither," you hum.

"Maybe it's both."

It takes a second for him to laugh, and he's crazy but it's contagious. You shake your head and press your face into your palms to muffle a soft laugh. Hoping he doesn't hear you humor him. But you do, and he does.

"You're delirious, go have caffeine," you huff, definitely smiling, even with your jaw aching from wearing a headset for much too long. But you're sure the tightness in your neck is worth it when he hums softly and rustles with something on his desk.

"No," he whines, spamming the space bar, sending his character hopping down the grassy slope of the park's small hill. He sighs. "Alright, fine. Didn't feel like staying online anyway."

"Oh, hush, it'll be good for you. Plus, I gotta head out, and I don't want you missing me too much."

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbles, "but you better be on tonight."

"C'mon, baby, you know me," you say, head lulling to the side as he sprints back up the hill just to slip down once he's halfway there. He must be too tired to think about it. Because you've called him that once before, and it sent him reeling. He's glad the game wasn't designed for webcam gameplay. Not only would that be nightmarish, but you would immediately catch him beet red and fidgety.

He yawns.

"Alright, see ya."

You chirp something nice into his ear. Like a goodbye, but you'd never say it. He powers his desktop down and throws on a crewneck before heading a couple blocks north, hands shoved in his pockets the whole way. Head incessant with the thought of you. Even if he could stop it, he wouldn't. If you'd stay holed up in his noggin until the next supernova, he'd be satisfied. And the coffee shop is sticky and warm when he steps in from the chill.

But something makes him smile. Only a few tables have anybody seated there: mostly couples. Except, there's one person sitting alone. Occupying the table closest to the register, scarf draped over the back of the oaky chair, fingertips patting along a dim phone screen.

"Morning, two sugars," the barista chirps, "the usual?"

Keys hisses in a deep breath, eyes flicking over the extensive, swirly-lettered menu.

"You know what—?"

"Aw, break my heart, man—don't tell me you're switching it up on me now."

Keys chuckles with a shrug, "what can I say? I'm a sucker for a limited time offer. Gimme one of those seasonal drinks.”

"That's it, no more discounts for you," he huffs, already scribbling 'Keys' and a pouty face across the side of a bright orange cup.

"You were giving me a discount?"

"Keys," a soft voice chirps. And it's not something he could've imagined if he tried, because it sounds like you, and maybe this is some wishful thinking hat trick, but he turns to the side. And there you are. Arm perched on the back of the chair, torso twisted around to peer up at him. And he peers back. It's you. Wide-eyed and grinning.

"Hi," he pants, "it's you."

Your chair scrapes across the wood flooring, and you get real close to him like you're still not sure this is real life and not a simulator. Or you accidentally signed up for a drug-induced sleep study, and this is the desired, coma-adjacent lucid dream.

"In the flesh." You scoff, hands on your hips. He wonders if you're letting him look at you. It's a little perverted, but he's in denial, watching your mouth and the way it's so different from your in-game avatar. "I was hoping... I mean, I wanted it to be you. You sound like you."

He nods. And his hair flops into his face. Hides his soft pink forehead and the line between his furrowed brows.

"You're... taller than I thought you'd be. And you wear glasses," you say, lifting your hand like you're about to touch him. It makes him happy. He knows you—he's known you exclusively by your code and the sound of your voice, and yet your first instinct was to reach for him. And even though you drop your hand and glance away, he smiles.

"Disappointed?" he teases like he's expecting the rejection. Like you'll laugh and tell him to scram because yes, he's not what you had imagined. Maybe you had imagined him to perfection and doomed him in the process.

But you shake your head.

Decisively, a serious conclusion, borderline frowning at the sentiment. How could you be disappointed after spending days upon days doing absolutely nothing and everything with him. Just him.

You sigh, "You techies are always a wild card. To be honest, I'm just glad you're not a serial killer."

He chuckles and takes a deep breath. Letting it buzz through him because by some miracle, you're glad.

"I take it my dashing looks are just an added bonus," he huffs, raising his brows, but out of the corner of his eye, you smile. You don't laugh, but you smile. Brightly, too, sincere in the creases by your tired eyes.

"Toffee latte for... Keys?"

He scratches the back of his neck when you look away, feeling like he's sweating buckets all over the polished floor. Then you look back at him, lips only parted for a breath, mouth quirked. You look cute. Like he couldn't have imagined you sweeter. He just knows you're gonna leave him all syrupy and stuck on you after this.

"So... d'you—"

"Keys! Latte for Keys?"

"I think that might be you," you tease, nodding over to the pick up window with a grin.

"Oh. Oh, right!"

He hurries over to the disgruntled employee, grabbing his coffee and a couple of napkins and a stopper between his teeth before popping it into the lid. When he turns back around, you're not there. And his heart sinks. Frantic, he cranes his neck, spinning dizzily before catching your wave and the bell above the door. And you duck outside.

The cold smacks him into reality. It’s terrifying the way you look back at him with a smile because he’s been thinking about it since the day he first heard your voice. And now you’re letting him catch up to you, walking backwards with your arms crossed over your chest.

"Sorry for ditching. It was kinda stuffy in there—"

He chuckles, suddenly shy with the way you look right through him. And you’re right. Everything’s clearer. Crisp and frosty, but it’ll melt away with the sun.

"No, yeah, it's totally..." he huffs, "I know."

"Good, 'cause I was hoping you'd walk me home."

He shudders, not knowing whether it's the cold or the way you're so sure of him. Even with sweat rolling down his back. He doesn’t think he’ll make it as far as you plan on taking him. Not after you've flattered him enough to lay him bare on the sidewalk.

“You live around here?”

“‘Course I do. I’m not about to drive fifteen minutes for a cup of coffee,” you grumble, skipping over the cracked pavement where weeds sprout up into teensy yellow flowers. Then the toe of your show catches a jilted and offset curb, sending you teetering forward.

“Woah”—Keys catches you by the hand, too focused on the way your fingertips find their way to his, slotting down hard and curling. “I gotcha.”

“Pssh,” you scoff, tugging him close as an excuse to catch you breath. Only, you’re in the middle of the sidewalk and a biker wheels by with a groan. “White knight.”

“I prefer the term gentleman, but whatever floats your boat.”

You stick your tongue out at him when he takes a swig of his coffee and flinches away from it, fingers clenching around your knuckles.

“Hot?”

“Burning.”

“Thanks,” you say with a wink. And his tongue isn’t the only thing burning when it settles into his ears and nose.

“So, are you nearby, or…?”

“Oh! Yeah, this is my building.” You thrust a thumb over your shoulder and yeah, he’s hooked. So hooked he doesn’t realize you’re less than a block up the road from his building. He doesn’t realize he could have been yours. He could be yours, but he’s too hooked.

“Shit. Then I guess this is goodbye.” He leers up at the art deco apartment complex with a squint. Kind of disappointed before he realizes his palm is damp pressed to yours. Suffocating into the space you give him when he scuffs against the rough concrete.

“Guess so.” The sunlight beams from between the strands of his mussed hair, catching the rim of his lenses, and rendering you in awe. “At least we have the game.”

He scoffs. “We’ll always have the game.”

You shrug and tap the bottom edge of his cup. “And you’ll always have this.” Your finger traces the digits and dashes along until they’re dotted off with a heart. “Definitely didn’t slip him ten bucks for that.”

“You’re pretty desperate, huh?”

You smile. “Yup.” You squeeze his hand and tug him close to kiss the supple place his cheek dimples just slightly when he smiles. And he shifts a little. On accident. But suddenly, your mouth is pressed to the corner of his, and he’s short-circuiting when you pull away. “Sorry!”

“It’s… it’s okay, I’m not—I don’t mind,” he sputters and you laugh despite yourself, “Really, don’t worry about it, I mean, I’m not worried, it’s not a big deal, I just—”

You kiss him again. In front of the steps of your apartment building, holding his hand, and boiling him up inside. He can’t help but smile when you tongue at his bottom lip and drop his hand in favor of his waist. He thinks only you’d be so delicate with him. After all, it’s you. And when you pull away, his mouth is a little pink and a little slobbery, and you swipe your thumb across his chin.

“You better call that number,” you warn. He smirks.

“Beats talking to strangers on the internet.”

masterlist

[holdmytesseract]

hey my love ❤️ can I resquest u something?

daryl is expecting a child with the reader where he is super excited but he also spends his time outside, looking for things for his baby.. but he receives a call from rick saying that his girlfriend is in the infirmary and when he arrives he finds out that the reader lost the pregnancy and he takes care of her and pampers her a lot those days after they both take great care of each other, because he will also be super sad😭

Sorry for my bad english 🤦

Into Shards

Daryl Dixon x pregnant!Reader

Summary: When Daryl is outside the walls, looking for stuff for yours and his baby, he gets called back by Rick - only to come home to devastating news...

Warnings: Major trigger warning here! Miscarriage! pregnancy things, walkers, fluff, bit blood

Set in the beginning of season 9!

Word Count: 2,2k

a/n: Hi nonny! Thank you for the request! ☺️💚 I am honest... I don't know if I should love this one, or not. I tried to write a bit action as well, but it probably isn't the best... Hope you like it nevertheless! 🙈

Tagging: @km-ffluv @loz-3 @stitchintimefan @peaches1958 @fictive-sl0th @lou12346789 @in-this-minute @hotgirlsshareaccounts @sweetpeapod @fuseburner @azanoni @bookofsecretjourneys

Masterlist

"'M goin' back out today. That okay for ya?" Daryl asked, while buttoning up the last few buttons of his black shirt and rolling up the sleeves. You smiled at him, stretched and stood up; leaving the cosy bedsheets behind. "Of course." You said, stepping closer and watching him slip in his angel-winged vest. Both your hands found their way on his chest, softly tugging on the cold, smooth fabric of the famous leather vest. "As long as you're coming back to us..." You whispered with a smile; your eyes never leaving his beautiful blue-greyish ones.

Us... The word hit Daryl like a ton of bricks - in the best way possible, though. It caused the ends of his nerves to sizzle. An overwhelming feeling of warmth and love flooding his veins. Us... He couldn't stop himself from smiling that signature sweet, small, boyish smile. "Ain't gonna ever leave ya two alone," he stated, shaking his head. One hand settled on your left hip, while the other found your yet non-existent baby bump. Although Daryl always stated, that he was already able to feel the tiny, innocent life. Despite the fact that you were barely eight to ten weeks along - according to Siddiq. Whenever he said that, you'd just giggle and shake your head.

"'M always goin' to come back for ya. 'Specially now." Your smile even widened; one hand reaching up to brush a chestnut brown curl out of his handsome face. "I know." You stood on your tippy-toes to brush your lips against his; eyelids fluttering shut.

"I can't convince you to let me join you, can I?" Daryl scoffed playfully, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. Ain't lettin' you walk around out there." You sighed, but giggled. "Thought so... Take care out there, yes? Be safe." Your boyfriend nodded. "'Course. Promised." "Good." You kissed him again. "I'll be back 'fore the sun's goin' down."

Daryl grabbed his crossbow then, his knives and took one of the pick-up's. His bike would've been a bit too small for his task ahead. With a last look at you and a soft smile, he left Alexandria; off to find and scavenge stuff for the baby.

Around midday, Daryl was already several miles away from home, searching every square inch of a few smaller cities around D.C. Daryl knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to be close to such a big city, but that didn't scare him.

Now he was sneaking down the streets of a rather very small city he didn't know the name of. Not much houses, only a few shops. His eyes landed on an old building. Not big and plain. Unimportant, unnecessary. He was about to walk past it, when he recognised the small sign over the old, rusty door... 'Smith's Baby Store'. Wasn't that exactly what he was looking for? "Finally," he muttered to himself under his breath, drawing his knives. With his foot, he kicked against the unstable door, listening for any signs of walkers. Nothing.

Carefully, he opened the door. It didn't budge at first, but with a little more strength, it finally gave in - as if someone was inside it before him. Looking around to check the street for any stray walkers - which wasn't the case, he stepped inside the small house. Daryl noticed immediately, that this house was constructed very... strange. The door didn't lead straight into the shop. It led into a long, dark hallway - with only three other doors. One on the left, one on the right and one at the end of the hallway. Daryl sneaked on quiet feet down the squeaking hallway; the old wood creaking underneath his weight. He checked the two rooms on the sides first, but found nothing. One room was already scavenged. Not much things were left. Most of the items useless and broken. The other room was nothing more than a broom closet with dusty cleaning supplies.

Daryl let out a slightly annoyed groan, before he made his way to the last room. The sparse wooden door wasn't locked. It was slightly ajar, making it easy for the archer to open it. The door led into a big room, full of shelves and cupboards, in which several baby things were. A smile twitched at the corners of Daryl's lips. Jackpot. But just a moment later, his expression shifted into a frown. The building had been clearly scavenged already, so... Why leave this room out? Why not take these things as well?

The answer got the archer only seconds after the thought had crossed his mind. He took a few steps inside the room - and immediately felt the floor giving softly in underneath him; bending under his weight. The wood was rotten, dilapidated and more than unstable. Daryl walked backwards again, biting his lip and weighing his options. Should he risk it? Should he not? He didn't know what was beneath the floor. Perhaps the basement? He could've sworn he had seen a small stair in the other room, leading down to a door. The basement couldn't be that bad, could it? And perhaps the floor held him, so... Daryl had been way too long on his way today and the past days - weeks. He didn't want to go home once again empty handed.

So, he took the risk - and paid for it almost immediately. The old wood held his weight the first time and also the second time - but not the third. It gave in underneath him, creaking and aching, causing the archer to fall - like he had predicted into the basement. With a thud, he landed on his back, groaning. "Shit." Only a tiny window let the sunlight in and illuminated the dark, dusty and... smelly room. His ears were ringing from the fall, his senses blinded for a moment, causing him to not realise instantly, what he got himself into.

Only when the sounds of low snarls and snapping teeth urged slowly but surely to his ears, he realised. Daryl's eyes widened in shock and surprise, before he scrambled to get up from the cold ground. The window didn't let much light in... But enough to show that said basement was filled with more than just two walkers... Way more than two. Daryl grimaced - in pain and frustration. "Damn it!" The walkers noticed him, of course, immediately and went straight at him. Daryl reached for his knife to get rid of the first undead, attacking him; all the while scanning the room for the door. He had to get out of this.

Unfortunately - just in that moment, while he was fighting the undead, started his walkie talkie to give forth some static hissing, before Rick's voice echoed across the basement. "Daryl?!" The archer got rid of another walker, plunging his knife into its rotten skull, before retrieving the weapon again, and reached for the walkie talkie attached to his belt. He thought it had been the last one, but just as he was about to answer his brother, another walker lunged at Daryl from behind, with such an impact that the little, black device slipped from Daryl's hand, along with his knife. A grunt left his lips as he tried to get the undead man away from him. He turned and stumbled to the ground with the walker landing on top of him. Its foul breath hitting Daryl's face; rotten teeth snapping at him, mere inches from his neck. "Daryl?! Do you copy?!" Rick's voice called out for him again. Daryl gritted his teeth and used all his force to shove the undead away from him. Quickly he reached for his knife and killed the walker. Panting, he fell back on his back, catching his breath. "Come on, Daryl! It's urgent!" Rick sounded almost desperate by now. Daryl took a deep breath and stood up to get the walkie talkie. "Rick? Rick! I'm here." He panted, wiping some blood from his face. "Sorry, man. Had to get rid of a few walkers."

Rick answered instantly. "Thank god. Daryl, you gotta get back here! Quick!" The man frowned, making his way to the small door of the basement. "Why?" "Y/N's in the infirmary! She-" Rick's voice broke and Daryl's heart dropped. You were in the infirmary? Fear and panic immediately started to rise within the archer. "Rick?!" He literally screamed into the walkie talkie, "Rick!" but all he got in return was static hissing. "Fuck's sake!" The archer cursed and slammed the device on the ground, before he literally run up the stairs and out of the house. Something was wrong, if you were in the infirmary - and whatever it was, he had to get back to Alexandria as fast as possible.

The gates got opened immediately, as soon as Daryl approached Alexandria. The archer didn't even bother to park the pic-up on its rightful place. He jumped out of the vehicle and slammed the door shut; seeing Rick already running his way. "Daryl!" The archer met his friend midway. "Wha' happened?! What's wrong with 'er?!" "You better see for yourself...," was all Rick said - a sorrowful look on his face. Daryl didn't let himself tell that twice, of course. As fast his legs could carry him, he sprinted to the infirmary. Without even knocking he ripped the door open and stormed in - attracting Siddiq's attention. "Daryl." "Where is she?!" The archer walked up and down the room like a wounded tiger; tried to push past the doctor - but Siddiq stood firmly in his way and tried to calm him down. "Daryl, calm down. Y/N's in the last room down the hall. Let me explain first, okay?" The black-haired man lifted his hands as if in surrender. Another try to calm the worked up man across him down. Daryl's chest heaved, as he grunted and gave the doctor a short nod - which Siddiq returned. "You... You might want to sit down for this." "Nah, 'm good. Tell me wha' happened." The doctor took a deep breath. "Alright, I... Y/N came to me a few hours ago; said she had cramps. Usually nothing to be worried about, but I checked on her nevertheless." Siddiq swallowed hard, lowering his head. "When I went to check, I... I saw that... There was blood, Daryl."

The archer's eyes widened and he felt his heart drop for the second time that day. Deep down, he already knew what it meant, of course, but he didn't want to believe it. Not until Siddiq spoke the dreadful words out loud. "Y/N, she... I'm afraid she had a miscarriage. I'm sorry." Daryl just stared at his friend blankly. The news - the shock was just too overwhelming. Without saying a single word, the archer walked past the doctor and straight down the hall, towards your room.

Gently opening the door, he found you laying on a bed, curled up into a ball. Your back towards him. He could hear the soft cries and sobs, which left your lips - breaking his heart. Daryl whispered your name, trying to hold back his own tears. You stirred immediately; hearing his voice. Shifting to face him, he saw your tear-stained cheeks and red, puffy eyes. "D-Daryl..." You sobbed, causing more tears to fall. He was immediately at your side, pulling you against his body. "'M here, love, 'm here. 'S alright, 'm here..." Of course, he knew that nothing was alright, but what was he supposed to say?

Daryl felt your body shaking against his. He wanted to scream; he wanted to cry - but he couldn't allow himself that. He needed to be strong for you. For the both of you. But the harsh reality hit him nevertheless. A few hours back, everything was alright. His little world was perfect. And now? Now it all came crashing down. The happiness ripped out of both your hands - within the blink of an eye. "I-I am s-so s-sorry, I-I-I..." You stammered, hands clasping on his vest; holding onto him for dear life. Daryl immediately shook his head. "Stop that, please... You have nothin' to be sorry for. This ain't your fault, sunshine." "It h-has to b-be! I-I must've done s-something wrong, I…" "Nah, you didn't. These things just happen sometimes." You looked up at him with hooded Y/E/C eyes. "B-But why to u-us? W-We were so happy about it... Looked forward to meet this baby and now... Now they are gone..." The words caused fresh tears to run down your cheeks. "I don't know, sunshine... I don't know..."

The most important thing was, that you had each other. It was going to be a tough time, but you knew that with Daryl by your side, you would overcome the grief. Scars were going to heal with time and sooner or later, you would welcome a new life in this world, where happiness was most precious and family was the most precious gift. Yes, it wasn't going to be easy, but you knew from all the things you've been through that everything works out in the end. After all, light couldn't exist without darkness, could it?

The next days Daryl spent the whole time at home with you. He didn't leave your side. Not even for a minute. The both of you spent most of the time in your house; secluded. Everybody understood that, of course and gave you all the time you needed to process the loss. Losing a child was never easy. No matter if born or unborn.

[pahtoosh]

Dry

[image ID: a gif of Lee Bodecker sitting on a couch and talking, made by tumblr user unearthlydust. /.end ID]

masterlist

18+

wc: ~400 words

warnings: fluff. mentions of taking a bath together. multiple attempts at writing a southern accent were made

a/n: i’ve been dealing with a little writer’s block! apparently writing three essays and a speech at once doesn’t leave me much energy for my creative writing. i wrote this little piece to help with that and i quite like it! it was also my first time writing for lee, i hope i did him justice(as much as i can really, within this context hehe)

pairing: Lee Bodecker x gn!little!reader

summary: you’ve had a hard day at the diner and Lee helps you regress at home.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Lee warmed the lotion in his hands before gently massaging it into your dry knuckles.

“That feelin’ better, baby?”

“Yeah, tank you Daddy.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. Can’t believe the nerve of this town, makin’ this winter so cold an’ dry. My poor baby’s hands are freezin’ right off. Don’t even get me started on that diner, my little baby shouldn’t be stuck back there washin’ dishes. Hell, you shouldn’t hav’ta work at all.”

You had just come home from a long shift at the diner, trudging your way through mud and snow alone in the cold. If you had known Lee was coming home early from the station, you might’ve walked faster or even asked him for a ride home.

Lee kissed your forehead as he continued massaging your hands. “Wish you’d told me you’re workin’ tonight, baby. Could’ve stayed with you at the diner as you were closing up, I know you don’t like bein’ there after hours. ‘Specially if you’re alone in the back. And then I would've stopped by the park for a bit, let ya stargaze before we headed home.”

Lee gently placed your hands in your lap before getting up, causing you to whine at the loss of contact.

Lee chuckled and held your chin, tracing your pout with his thumb. “I’ll be back in a minute, sweetheart. Just goin’ to check on the oven. dinner should be ready soon.”

He walked away, leaving you to slump on the couch. You admired his form as he leaned over to check on the meal roasting away. Lee looked especially handsome to you in his pajamas.

After you entered the house tonight and he saw the stress you were holding, he suggested taking a bath together. He knew you’d feel better having washed the day off of you. He also sensed that you were needing to regress, and a warm bath followed by changing into soft pajamas all while being doted on by your Daddy would get the job done.

The warm bath helped a lot at making you more comfortable, but there was an aching in your bones that only Lee could fix.

“Needs just a few more minutes, darlin’. That okay?”

“Yeah, just wanna snuggle with Daddy,” you said, still slumped over the arm of the couch.

Lee grinned as he made his way back to you. “If it’s cuddles my baby wants, it’s cuddles my baby gets. Scooch over, sweetheart. Daddy’s not goin’ anywhere tonight.”

[lwh-writing]

I was just contemplating Fullmetal Alchemist (as one does), thinking about the absolute peak hilarity that is Ed, Al, and Havoc, the certified Country Boys(TM), teaming up to bully Mustang, the certified City Boy(TM), when I was struck with an epiphany.

Riza Hawkeye is the OG Country Girl.

Like....

Lived in the middle of nowhere with her father in a 1900ish setting. In THAT time period and THAT location, she and Hawkeye Sr. would've had to have at least a homestead type of deal. Something small that they could work on and live off of on their own, unless they hired farmhands (which I doubt).

So a two-person homestead. I would love to claim they cultivated dairy to go with Arakawa's background, but to make that livable, it would be too many cows for 2 people to realistically handle on their own. So either they did a smaller animal, like, say, sheep and goats, or they harvested corn, wheat, or tobacco. Midwesterner here, so let's say corn and wheat.

Anyway, Riza and her father living it rough on a homestead.

Money's a bit tight at times, but Hawkeye Sr. can take care of most of the repairs with his alchemy, so they always get by.

They've got chickens, two cows, and a lovely mare who pulls the cart whenever they need to go to town.

Three-year-old Riza being super excited about feeding the chickens for the very first time, giggling and squealing with joy as she throws feed everywhere.

Five-year-old Riza walking five miles into town to attend classes at the little one-room schoolhouse. There are a little more than thirty total students, only eight of which are anywhere near her age.

Seven-year-old Riza holding back tears when Hawkeye Sr. teaches her how to pluck and prep a fresh chicken. She can do it all on her own with a dry eye by the time she's eight.

Eleven-year-old Riza finding a goat one day on the farm, and after checking with the neighbors to see if they're missing one, decides she might as well keep it.

This is a mistake. The goat and Riza are mortal enemies. The thing will refuse to stop nipping at Riza whenever she goes out to milk it. But it keeps giving milk and sneaking away only to come back with baby goats, so she's left to suffer in silence.

Twelve-year-old Riza waking up at dawn in the summer to go detassel corn. Comes back around noon with scrapes all up and down her arms and eats enough to feed an army.

Thirteen-year-old Riza learning how to shoot and being known as the best shot for miles around before the year is up.

Fourteen-year-old Riza coming home from school only to find a sharp-looking, sweet-talking, soft-handed City Boy who her father claims is going to be his alchemist apprentice from now on.

Riza despairing about Roy-Fucking-Mustang and his complete and utter incompetence at everything that isn't alchemy. The boy can't cook, can't hunt, and wouldn't know the first thing about farm animal care if Bessie the Demon Goat bit him in the eye.

Eventually, Riza puts Mustang on cleaning and laundry duty, because that, at least, he can do. (Thank God for his three-dozen sisters and their insistence that Roy pulls his weight with chores.)

Riza's schoolhouse friends sighing over "that handsome Roy" and Riza blanches because she could never see herself falling for someone who thought milking the cows hurt them somehow. (It doesn't. Refusing to milk an animal is extremely harmful to the critter involved, and it's very likely that they could get an infection and seriously injure themselves and/or die. Don't let the radicalized vegans fool you)

Riza, to her chagrin, does develop a crush on Roy-Fucking-Mustang, who wouldn't know farm animal care if Bessie the Demon Goat bit him in the eye.

Roy, for his part, has long been crushing on Riza Hawkeye, the swol farmer's daughter who could pick him up with one hand a shoot a goose out of the sky with the other.

Neither admits it though because Roy has long since embarrassed himself past the point of no return, and Riza has complained too much to the folks in town that if she were to romance Roy now.... Well. Ain't either of the kids going to make the first move, so no move is made.

Fast forward a decade or so and Team Mustang is investigating something in the country.

Ed, Al, and Havoc are giving Mustang shit about approaching a horse wrongly and how there ain't no fancy cars out here.

Roy tries to refute it and shut them down, but Riza snorts and idly says something about him still not knowing jack about farming despite living on hers for two years.

Riza exposes Roy. Ed, Al, and Havoc rejoice. Roy despairs about his secrets being out, and Maes demands any and all pictures once he finds out.

And that's how Roy Mustang spent the rest of his days being bullied by four blond-haired Country Folk(TM).

[yantao-enthusiast]

the midnights era is so underrated. i'm not getting my revenge. i'm not hopelessly in love. no, i'm staring at the ceiling, know that once i fall asleep tomorrow will start but with my weary consciousness, i'm left with the thoughts of everything i've ever done. there's such a comfort in this subliminal space in this barren time. there's no one to judge me except myself. that one person i dated and never talked to again, do they ever think about me? i hear the crickets chirping while i'm crying in the bathtub. i hate my body but it's the one i have. actually, the world we live in is such a beautiful place and it's so soft and full of wonders that wouldn't exist without its quirks. when i was young, i wanted to be a dancer. i wonder what she would think of me now. she's still here, in my heart. actually she would probably hate me, like everyone else rightfully does. all i do is hurt people and every bit of my kindness is complicated and calculated. do you think about me? do you think about how you hurt me with your complicated bullshit before coming back like nothing's wrong? do you stare at the wall, wishing you did something different just like me? actually no. fuck you. fuck you and fuck everyone who ever hurt me. i'll ruin your life and you'll never know it was me. i'm hot shit and god the bathroom mirror makes me look so sexy. i'm going to put on a sparkly dress and dance because you don't deserve my sadness. oh shit wait i'm in love. that's terrifying. it's delicate and confusing yet so effortlessly simple. okay back to fuck you. i don't even have to do anything. that's how much the universe loves me. that's how much kindness and love is in my heart. oh also i love this person so much. they love me. they don't expect anything from me. they're like the blanket wrapped around me in the darkest hours, keeping me warm, keeping me alive. oh yeah i also orchestrated this person's presence into my life because that's the only way i know to get people to love me. but they know that. and they love me all the same.

oh look it's 3am now. how the fuck did that happen. god remember the time we were going through it? yeah but we had each other. i'm sorry for hurting you, pushing you away during that time when we were both struggling. you just wanted to help. and you did. maybe i'll tell them in the morning. would that be weird? maybe she'll get the message telepathically. man what if nothing wrong ever happened to me. i'll never be that girl. i'll never be the person i would've been if everything was normal in my life. fuck my life. oh right i'm in love. love this handsome fella. he makes me have vivid hallucinations about being in paris. i mean who need to go to paris when i got my baby with me??? who needs to pay attention to anything else? actually. this is really off topic. i cheated on someone once. yes i know i shouldn't have. but i was dying, stranded in a loveless land, and he saved me. yes i shouldn't have cheated on you but maybe you should've loved me. this relationship was a mistake. i didn't mean to love you. but i did. i'm in your arms and i don't remember how i got there. it's wrong. it's right. i never wanted this. nothing else will ever be as good as you. oh god i'm 19 all over again. with just one glance, i'm transported back into that time when i ached with every step, begged for just a piece of you when you're the one who looked at me. i wish i could go back. i am back. i just can't change anything. you have stolen a piece of me i will never get back and it's been so long but you can never get over the pain of losing yourself. but you don't have to worry about that, right? because you never gave anything. just like you'll never give my girlhood back. i wish i could keep anyone else from feeling that pain. i want to tell them all what i've learned from all the years i've been hurt. but why should anyone listen to me? i'm still a wreck, still figuring it all out, shouldn't they get advice from someone who actually knows how to navigate this messy existence? does it even matter? i'm in a state of paralysis, forever wondering, unable to get closure. it's too late. every midnight.

[randomveyn]

ʜᴇʟʟᴏ, ᴋɪᴛᴛʏ ʙᴏʏ

𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐰 𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐣𝐚𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐳 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⁞ 𝐰.𝐜. ⁞ 1.2k

⁞ 𝐜.𝐰. ⁞ sub!grimmjow (but he's still resisting), dom!reader, femdom, mean dom, swearing, implied cockwarming, smut, creampie, pet names (kitty, good boy, baby boy), love-hate relationships

⁞ 𝐚.𝐧. ⁞ happy bday grimmjow bb i can't wait to see u again in oct <3

“c’mon kitty,” you peered down on the sexta, sitting comfortably on him, his cock buried deep inside you. “you can do better than this,” with the massive amount of reiatsu placed on him, grimmjow finds himself struggling to move an inch underneath you.

“i'm gonna…fucking kill you…” he heaved between phrases, nose flared in anger, throwing the same empty threat like he'll bite. it's funny that he thinks he could still intimidate you in his given position.

you grind into him a few times, watch him writhe at the faintest friction he'd been craving for before swiftly coming to a stop. “fuck,” he groaned with flushed cheeks, sweats travel down all over his exposed chest as he trembled in agony.

but grimmjow refuses to back down. gripping your sides harder, he snarled with his sharpened fangs, exuding his primal dominance over you. no, what's more important is he wants to fuck you, pound himself into you nonstop.

he's tired of you riding on his aching cock for hours, feeling your walls clenching on him but not enough to stimulate his release. and what's with that condescending smile, agh? looking down on him like he's the damn prey now. he hates this. he hates you. his claws are itching to wipe that face out of you.

“what's with that look?” leaning backwards, you rolled your hips further to weigh down some pressure on his balls. “fuc－ahh hah,” he screamed, feeling his groin burning up like crazy, hips jolting upward and toes curling at the immense pleasure that he couldn't handle. who would've thought the great panther king is weak at such a cute, delicate spot.

hehe, he's giving in. he couldn't take any more teasing from you.

“let me…let me cum,” he braced himself to say it, and you know this is probably the best he could do. for now, that is. those pretty blue eyes wouldn't, or rather too ashamed to meet yours. his breathing getting heavier every second beneath you, drools threatening to slip off the edge of his lips.

such a cute little kitty <3

“but where's your please, hmm?” you shoved down hard this time. his knees hopelessly gave in, crashed his weight on the soft sheets with arched back and eyes rolled to the back of his skull. fuck, he can even feel himself choking.

“guess you're still not trained enough, huh?” with that said, you pulled away nonchalantly, exposing his throbbing cock to the cold air. he hissed at the sudden chills coursing through his lower body, had him uncontrollably jerking himself upward into nothing. just how silly of him, to think that if he tried hard enough, it would actually reach something.

eyebrows raised in amusement, you urge him to talk, silently corner him to start begging properly and readily submit himself to you.

“p－please,” grimmjow couldn't so much as drag those words out without gritting his teeth, hands covering the top half of his flustered face. “let me fucking cum…please…” though there's still some resistance lingering, he could already feel his confident self crumbling. he hates this. he hates feeling weak, being overpowered. he hates you, yet he needs you.

you ran your digits over his now slick and wet hair, messy baby blue strands fallen over his handsome features. you toppled over him with your knees on each of his side, settling him in between you and brushed your folds oh-so-lightly against his swollen tip.

“you wanna cum?” your question immediately has his full attention, dilated blue eyes flickered up to you, brimming with desperation. “if you want something, you gotta work for it, kitty.” flashing him a loving smile, you lifted your reiatsu, removing the pressure that had been suppressing his movement.

grimmjow sits up right away, hands are quick to grab your ass and tug you close. he didn't notice at first, but now he sees it. his precum splatter all over your slit, viscous white fluid trickling down your entrance, making it all seem so easy for him to dive right back in.

but he hesitated to make the first move now. he cast you a look, as if he’s obediently waiting for your permission, like a well-trained little pet. he’s so adorable now. <3

stifling a giggle, you let yourself sink into him, running his full length down to the base, granting him a well- deserved push at the end. he purred in relief, those pent up tension built under his nerves escaping at light speed.

but fuck, he let that slip. you heard him. you definitely heard him. and he's certain you'd never let him live that down. but he couldn't care less now. all it matters now is for him to finally submerge himself back into your tight, warm cunt.

it didn’t take long for his patience to run thin. grimmjow thrust in a terrible rhythm, hips practically hanging in mid air the entire time, not caring that his stiff cock is too sensitive to handle this much friction all at once. he just wants to feel you, relish in your pulsing walls and chase his fleeting dream. “easy, kitty boy.” you tugged his hair backward, halted him from blindly going back to his wild instinct, and tamed him into a steady pace. “now that’s my good boy.”

his hands can no longer stay in one spot. calloused fingertips not leaving any skin untouched, he caressed the underside of your breast with hungry eyes. yes, he's hungry for more. so you brought your hands to the back of his head, guided him to delve in your cleavage.

he's fast to drag his tongue to taste your perked tits, sucking his mouth full and lavishing on your tender flesh. fuck, his jawbone mask is getting in the way, he’s eager to rip them off now.

“mmghm－hah…i'm close, i'm close” muffling out in a hush, he sends you a pleading look, mind too occupied to feel embarrassed already. “use your words, baby boy.” you cupped his cheeks in your small hands, pleased to see him nuzzled into your touch like a needy kitten.

“inside…wanna cu－hah…cum inside!” he cries out, heads fuzzy at the tight knot twisting his core. nodding your head, you match him to let him go harder, reach deeper. grimmjow sends his head back, angling himself to hit places that he'd yet to explore.

“such a good kitty.” you watched his face contorted into pleasure, sealed his quivered lips with yours. he stopped with one final push, shuddering in bliss as his tips twitched out thick, white ropes in you. snuggling into the crook of your neck, his arms held you close to savour your warmth, letting you squeeze out the last drop of his cum.

bonus :

coming down from his high, vision was still hazy but he can somewhat make it out very clearly, his cum still gushing out of you, painting your inner thigh white. damn, this feels good. it feels good inside you. so good that he feels disgusted. he couldn't possibly be enjoying this, isn't he?

no, that's not right. maybe somewhere inside him is still wishing for more, but he wouldn't say it. he won't ask for it. grimmjow was never the type to ask. that's right, he was just caught off guard. and now that he finds you worth fighting with, he's determined. it's not over yet. the next time he sees you, it's you who will be underneath him.

“ready for round two?”

© 2022 randomveyn. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, alter or share my works on any other platforms.

[hisokakissmeplz]

Hisoka x insecure reader

Someone asked for this but I cannot find it anywhere sorry

Not proofread (when are they ever?)

Hisoka knew how insecure you were. He knew how flustered you would get and he knew how your hands would shake and your palms would get sweaty and how your heart would beat faster.

Yet here you were, about to try on the outfit he had just gotten you. He insisted you try it on immediately and took a seat on the edge of the bed as you walked off to the bathroom to change.

Holding up the skimpy lingerie he had picked out you could feel your heartbeat pick up. You and Hisoka has been intimate countless times before but this was different. It's was still kinda light out and he was out there waiting to see you.

You swallowed down your nerves and begin to slip on the light material. The cool air tickled your bare skin and made you shiver even more as you nervously reach for the door handle and twisted it.

Stepping out slowly till you were right in front of him you shut your eyes tightly and held your breath, waiting for his reply.

Nothing came. Which made you even more nervous until you felt his arms wrap around you and pull you into a hug from behind.

Hisoka arms held you tightly as he leaned into your ear and whispered.

"You look even better than I'd imagined, love."

His words did help calm you a little bit, but you were still embarrassed by the thin material wrapped around your body.

He kissed down your neck to your shoulders, whispering sweet nothings against your skin and then back up till he reached your face.

"Please Darling, let me have you?"

His voice rang sultry through your ears and sent shivers through your spine. He kissed at your jaw and bit softly.

You nodded gently and leaned into his touch. He spun you around to face him before kissing you passionately and and shoving you gently onto the bed.

He trailed soft kisses down your body slowly. Taking his time with each one, being sure to leave big purple and reddish marks all down your body.

"So beautiful, baby."

His breath fanned across your navel and you shivered again. Pushing him up slightly to stand as an idea popped into your head.

He watched you with close eyes as he lifted up to give you space, his hands still tracing your sides.

Hisoka watch with an excited glint as you slowly slithered onto your knees in front of him.

He leaned down, planting a soft kiss across your lips before standing back up straight and letting his hands trace down to his pants.

He undid them slowly, purposely slow.

"Hiso, you're teasing me."

He smirked down at you and his hands seem to slow even more.

"Oh am I~?"

He finally undid his pants and slipped a hand into your hair.

"Didn't realize you were so eager."

He grabbed your hair, tugging gently as his nails scratched your scalp lightly. His other hand pulled down his boxers letting his dick spring out.

You took it with both hands and began to work, slowly licking and kissing all the sensitive spots you had memorized. You pulled back before kissing the tip and he groaned in pleasure.

"And yet I'm the tease?"

His voice was softer now. You looked up and nodded, a soft smile on your face as you did so.

You went back to work on his dick, taking it into your mouth slowly and pulling back again. Starting to bob your head as he moaned out.

His moans and praises always reassured you. He was loud and you knew the neighbors could hear, of course Hisoka didn't care though. He was proud of you and the fact that you were making him feel so good. Having such a handsome man being so proud of you as a partner was an ego boast to say the least.

You rolled your tongue over a sensitive vein and he practically roared. You would've smiled at the sound if you lips weren't already busy wrapped around his fat cock.

He tugged at your hair, encouraging you to keep going as he almost whinned out his begs and praises.

'you're so good. fuck you're so good with your mouth. God, I could fuck your tight little mouth all day, please baby keep going. I'm almost there, please love.'

Finally he finished down your throat and whimpered softly as you swallowed around his sensitive dick.

You wouldn't have to feel insecure for long around Hisoka.

[luveline]

steve zombie au —you and steve celebrate his birthday with a frank discussion and some new fun. [5k]

fem!reader, afab!reader, fluff, MDNI smut (hand job, implied oral), cw for mentioned circumstances of the apocalypse; food insecurity, danger, zombies, nightmares, injury

April 29th starts exceedingly warm. Summer is fast approaching, and it's being felt all over The College community. You can forget zombies — a world without air conditioning is much scarier. 

You're kidding, obviously. Geeks are scary. Both for what they are, slimy decomposing husks that want more than anything to chew on you like a dog toy, and what they could be, the end of your life. There have been times where you wished for something of the same calibre, but these days you have someone you want to hold onto. 

And that someone is turning twenty three. He's still sleeping, the limp hair in his eyes freshly shorn. He doesn't know that you know it's his birthday today, but you do, so you'd traded with Mel the used-to-be hairdresser to get you both haircuts. You would've traded just for him —her services aren't cheap— if you thought he'd ever let you, or ever get one without you.

It's exactly that reason that you'd wanted him to have a haircut in the first place, and why you want him to have a good birthday. He's so loving, and sweet, and good, he deserves to feel special. He needs to know how much you appreciate him. 

You're hoping you've prepared enough to do that. 

You brush the sweat damp hair out of Steve's eyes as he begins to stir. You've been up for hours, now, and it's a credit to how much you like him that you would wake up early on a day you could've slept in, sweaty but safe in the circle of his arm. You've washed up for the morning so he doesn't have to wake to your oily face, and you press a spearmint-fresh kiss to his cheek as his eyelashes strain. 

"Hey," he says, rough with sleep. 

You love his voice in the mornings. "Hey, handsome. Good morning." 

You lay your cheek against his pillow, watching as he opens his eyes. Your hand roves over his naked torso selfishly, feeling the soft indentations of muscle. He's put on weight since you got here. It's amazing. 

"It's fucking–" He stretches out beside you, his sentence scythed in two by a low groan. "S'fucking so hot. I just woke up and it's so hot." 

"I think it's finally summer." 

"I don't know," he argues lightly, "it shouldn't be this hot. Not for another two months, Jesus." 

He traces your face with his eyes as he talks, and as his sentence finishes he pauses his searching. He brings a hand up between your two bodies and rubs his thumb against the highest point of your cheek. "I guess it's almost May." 

"It's April 29th," you say softly. 

His lashes come together slowly, a subtle suspicious squint souring his otherwise serene expression. "Robin told you?" 

"Yes, she did. Happy birthday, baby." 

He looks at you a little longer. You like to be looked at by Steve because you know he's thinking nice things as he does, but for those long, stretched seconds you worry you've given him a reason to wrinkle his nose. Maybe it's cringy to be romantic about it. After all, he'd kept his birthday to himself the entire time you'd known him. 

"Thank you." 

He tugs you in for a hug, so tight you swear you can feel his heartbeat against your own. 

"You're welcome," you say, words smothered under his cheek. 

He clings to you. You can't count how many hugs you've shared after so long together. Even before Steve told you he loved you on the floor of this very room, before he asked if you were together in a cold car shivering for your lives in the middle of an abandoned highway, he was hugging you when you needed them, or when he needed you. 

You feel your eyes warm thinking about it, until the heat becomes tears, and the tears roll down over the bridge of your nose. You push your head as far as you can over Steve's shoulder, your hands hugging behind his head to keep him with you if he tries to move. You're selfish, and you don't deserve him but you have him. It counts for something. 

"I love you," you say, tears making your voice all wobbly. Cicadas call from the open window, and the earth seems deathly still. Steve is quiet for a while and you worry you've put him off crying on his special day, but then his arm shifts against your back and his embrace tightens again. 

"I can't believe it took me," —he presses his forehead to yours— "twenty three years to find you." 

"You found me ages ago," you remind him, fighting for your life because isn't that the most romantic thing, isn't he the sweetest guy? 

"Are you crying?" he asks, frowning. 

"Not really. I just love you." 

He holds your face in his palm and gives you a gentle shake. "I love you. But you know that. It's embarrassing how much you know that."

"Embarrassing how much you love me?" you ask, poking for extra compliments. Again, you're selfish. 

Again, it counts for something. 

Steve pushes your shoulders back into the bed and follows with his weight on top of you, his chest pressed to your chest and an elbow by your arm so his face doesn't smash into yours. You're a little daunted —Steve doesn't come on to you so suddenly, but it's his birthday, and you just asked him how much he loves you. Maybe he's excited. 

His laugh fans over your face. 

"Sorry," he murmurs, "I saw the look on your face." He turns his head to kiss your cheek. "I love you so much. That part isn't embarrassing, at all, I just mean I would've had the shit kicked out of me in high school for being whipped." 

"You're whipped?" you ask lightly, trying to maintain casualness as his lips dip lower. His kisses show how he's still far from being properly awake, mouthing at the column of your throat one slovenly inch at a time.

"I'm worse than that," he says, his lips parting over your pulse. 

His teeth scratch. 

"Steve–" You laugh as he sucks your skin between his teeth, not his worst hickey but the start of a sore one if you let him finish. "Baby." 

He pulls away, his words scorching against you, "You sound flustered." 

"I am! You're biting me." 

"I'm not not biting you," he agrees, kissing his hickey. It won't last, he hadn't worked at it for very long, but it turned you to jelly under his big hands. "Sorry, I like when you do that." 

"Do what?" 

"You relax," he says with a smile. 

"I relax with you." 

It's true and untrue. It takes you time to decompress, for months you hadn't felt safe, and then things had happened to rob you of that feeling again, but Steve's persistence and insistence that nothing is going to happen is one you believe. You crawl into bed with him and sometimes it takes an hour, but you relax. You sleep well with him. 

"I know," he says, pulling up to meet your eyes again, "but when I kiss you like that you go somewhere else. I'm not saying it to be cheesy, although it's definitely cheesy and I'm a romantic weapon." He smiles at your smiling. "I'm trying to describe it to you but I got a C in English and I never went to college." 

You laugh again. He would've been hard pushed to go, considering the circumstances. 

"We're in college now," you say. 

The community that you live in has been nicknamed The College. It was a smaller college campus once upon a time, and now it homes a couple hundred people of all ages trying to make a life. 

"Let me brush my teeth and then I'm gonna kiss you stupid," Steve says, climbing off of you. 

There isn't an ensuite in your room but there is a small sink, and he stands there in his boxers and short-sleeved t-shirt bent over the basin. He puts paste on his toothbrush and tries to talk to you around brushing, his hair rumpled and sticking out at the back, his boxers lower on one hip. 

You're trying to talk back to him, but you've noticed something you hadn't meant to. 

Steve has a bulge. 

Steve usually has a bulge, you're not stupid, you know your boyfriend is well-endowed. It would be impossible not to notice, you've woken countless times to something warm pressed against your thigh, but you honestly hadn't cared. You and Steve haven't had sex, and that doesn't bother either of you, you know it with surety. Your relationship has always weighed heavily on other things. But you have to wonder if he wants it. You know you do, in moments like this where he's had you pressed down into a box and nipped at your neck, suggesting the salacious to the shell of your ear. 

He swills out his mouth and washes his face as boys do, rough and quick, water dripping down his neck and soaking the hairs surrounding his face. 

You have your heart in your throat as he slides back into bed. 

"You have your shift soon?" he asks, hiking up on his pillow and pulling you toward his arms. 

"I swapped with Shirley to have today off, it's your birthday." 

"Ah, but when I gave you that necklace for your birthday there was no need." 

"It's different." 

Steve kisses the top of your head, sounding fondly defeated as he says, "It's not different." 

You turn in his hold, head by his elbow as you look up at him with a question you don't wanna ask in your eyes. He stares down at you. 

You shift your leg against him, and you can't miss the slight twitch of his mouth. Like he enjoyed the feeling. 

"Stevie," you murmur. "I have something I want to talk about, but I think I'll probably die of shame before I can say it out loud." 

"Is it your period? I already told you it shouldn't bother you, honey, it's natural–" 

"Progressive," you say with a laugh, "but no, I know you're not a big baby about it." The only thing that bothers Steve about it is that you're in pain when it happens.  

"I don't know what else would embarrass you like that," he says. 

"We don't have to talk about it. It's your birthday, I want to celebrate," you say, regretting your honesty. 

“It’s my birthday and I wanna talk about it,” he says. “Hit me with it. Tell me tell me tell me tell me–”

"No," you mumble, knowing you'll have to tell him now. 

"Please?" he asks. 

His tone slows everything down. Your mixed emotions, your apprehension and nerves, your excitement over his birthday, they slip away into the palm of his hand where it strokes under your breast. He takes it all. 

You look up into his face and try to look serious. 

"How come we don't have sex?" 

Steve is noticeably thrown for a loop. His hand lightens its hold. 

"Do you want the short answer?" he asks slowly. "Or the long one?" 

"Why are there two answers?" 

Steve is quiet for a second. You sit up some, not entirely but enough to feel as though he's hugging you rather than acting as a place for you to rest your head. He helps you without asking, hand like a brand considering the topic of conversation. 

"I just–" A muscle in his jaw moves as you talk. "I know sometimes I can– that you want to. I mean, that your, um–" 

"That I'm obviously excited," he says. 

You both cringe, and then you both laugh quietly. 

"Yeah. And you've never tried to do anything. I just wondered if maybe you don't want to, ever, or if you're waiting for me. If you are waiting for me…" 

"You're ready," Steve says. 

"Yeah." 

"I kind of knew that already, babe." Steve's fingers curl in toward your rib, knuckles resting against you, an arm behind your back. His face dips down to yours, and he kisses your cheek fondly and almost too softly, you barely feel it. "Not that you're obvious, but, you know, we've been together for a long time. I'd be an idiot if I couldn't read you." 

"So why haven't you asked me?" 

"Why haven't you asked me, 'til today?" He sounds immeasurably happy, now, his tone golden and silky smooth as pure honey, murmuring. "Being with you has never really been about that. I mean, we never could've on the road, how could you relax there?" 

"Maybe it would've relaxed me." 

"Maybe, but I kind of assumed it wouldn't. And I… I didn't want you to think you didn't have a choice, either, like I was looking after you so you had to do stuff you didn't want to do." 

"I wouldn't have thought that." 

"Good, then I was less of a dick than I thought." He pauses, breathes in the skin of your cheek as though it smells like something other than hand-soap turned face wash. "There were times when I really wanted to. But I guess most of the time I wasn't thinking about it, and then we got here and," —he smiles against your cheek— "I didn't want you to think I was saying I loved you and that having sex would make a difference." He turns bashful. "It sounds stupid now I'm actually telling you." 

"It doesn't," you say, immediate and soft with awe. "It doesn't." 

"Then you weren't safe, and you were having nightmares all the time, but now you're doing better and lately I've been thinking the same thing. Why aren't we?" 

You turn your face to his. "Well? Do you have an answer?" 

His lips pout up and his eyes squint a little as he nods, a melodramatic defeat. "The short answer. I can't find a box of fucking condoms." 

You're speechless. 

You cough. 

"...You've been looking?" you ask. 

"Sometimes. I looked in the mall pharmacy but they only had finger condoms. What am I gonna do with one of those?" He laughs at his own joke. 

You're thankful it isn't awkward. Thank whoever for your stupid beautiful boyfriend who cares about you more than anything. Too chivalrous to make a move but horny enough to look for condoms when his life is in danger. 

You settle your arms heavily over his shoulders and look him in the eye. "I really don't think that would work for you, Stevie." 

"You're flirting." 

"Is it working?" 

He touches the tip of his nose to yours. "It always works, but I really can't find any rubbers, I didn't want to ask you without being able to deliver. We're stuck." 

"I mean, maybe we could just… not use one?" you ask, genuinely wanting to hear his opinion. 

The side of Steve's nose touches yours, his breath warm on your cheek. "I thought about it. About asking you, but I just need you to be safe." He pulls back. "You couldn't have a baby." 

"I don't know. I don't think I could now, but we'd make it work." 

"Do you want one?" he asks. 

You think about the obvious. It's too fucking dangerous. Pregnancy before the apocalypse was dangerous. Pregnancy now is so much worse. It could kill you, and if it didn't labour could, and if it didn't and you did have a baby, that baby would live this life. You're too young to make that decision, you think. And if none of it mattered and you and Steve were a couple in a regular world, would you want one then? So soon? 

"No," you say. It feels good to say, because Steve will support every decision you make and you know it. 

"No. I don't want you to have one either." He licks his lips. "Maybe someday?" 

You smile at his hope. It cracks a yawning gap down your chest to the pit of your stomach. 

"Maybe someday," you say. 

He kisses you. Chaste but somehow sharp, pressing at the same time. Not trying to initiate anything he can't finish, but now that it's on the table the implied what-if feels heavy between you.

You hug him as the kiss breaks, your lips by his ear. "You could pull out?" you whisper. You love him and he's amazing but it's still a mortifying question. 

"I don't think that always works. Is it worth it?" he asks. 

Not really. Not if you aren't prepared to make big choices.

His arms wrap around you, and his hand rubs your back. "It's not like it'll never happen, honey." 

"Steve," you say softly, hand running down his back, "what if we did other stuff? Sex isn't just… I could make you feel good." You're trying hard not to sound crude, harder still not to sound as scared of his rejection as you feel. He's more than allowed to say no, but you hope he won't. You hope he wants you. 

"You could…" He swallows. You hear it loud and clear. 

"I could make you feel good," you repeat, lowering your voice. "What do you think, handsome?" 

"You don't have to do anything you're unsure of," he says. His breathlessness has your heart leaping in your chest. 

You pull back to see his face, find his cheeks warm as you press your palms to them. "I'm not unsure. If you want it, I want it. How do you feel?" 

"If you… if you change your mind," he murmurs. 

"I'll tell you," you say. You give him a look, the kind of bright-eyed, loving expression you save for special moments with him, pouring all your adoration and trust and wanting out for him to see. You lift your chin in question, and when he kisses you, you take it for a soft yes. 

You kiss him while you stand on knees, while you ease yourself over one thigh. Your knee rubs up against him and he shudders into the kiss, his hands leaping to your waist. 

"Do you," —you break away from his lips but can't stop yourself from dispersing honeyed pecks between words— "ever do anything by yourself? When I'm away? When I'm at the kitchen and you don't have to go, have you–" 

You're asking because you have a great suspicion that he has —one time you came home and he was so, so needy, clingy and sweet and relaxed. Another you might have found him midway, but he hid it well.

Steve nods hurriedly and steals another kiss. "Just a few times," he says. 

"How do you do that, sweetheart?" you ask, your hand trailing down his chest achingly slow. 

"I– I lay on your side of the bed." 

You kiss him harder than you mean to. "Why?" you ask into his lips. 

"It smells like you–" 

His hands roving up and down your back give you more than enough confidence to grasp at him wildly, your kissing suddenly, painfully desperate, your top lip on fire as Steve pulls your face down to his. You don't have the wherewithal to speak as your hand coast past his t-shirt to the rising tent of his boxers. 

Foreign and familiar at once. You've seen Steve naked a hundred times having lived in close quarters with him for as long as you have, and if Steve hadn't seen you before, all those times he's had to sit in the shower room with you lest you panic someone else is in the room would've made sure. You know what the other looks like bare. What you don't know is how they feel, and how they want to be touched. 

You reluctantly break your bruising kiss, resting your temple at his cheek as you look down. You slowly, slowly let your fingertips stroke down the line of his cock, beside yourself with giddy excitement as Steve moans breathlessly in your ear. 

"Fuck," he says. 

You've barely touched him. You flatten your hand as you approach the bottom of his length, pressing your thumb gently into the swelling of his balls. He hisses at your touching and you look up worriedly. "Sorry, am I not supposed to touch there?" you ask, whispering though there's no one else around to hear it. 

"Please," he says. He cuts himself off with a laugh, his head tilting back in pleasure as you put your hand back. "Please, touch anywhere." 

"It feels good?" 

"Please, honey, keep going," he says. 

You rub the length of his cock over his soft boxers, near awed as it hardens. You knew he was well endowed, and you've seen him hard and pressing against his jeans, but it feels different when it's under your hand. You drag your nose against the side of his throat, whispering, "Finger condoms really would've been useless," and laugh as he starts to laugh himself, breathless, throaty chuckling that lights a flame in your stomach. 

You start to kiss his neck slowly. Your hand is curious but not shy as it works up and down the length of him. Steve readjusts your grip, the pressure of it, his hand gentle on yours. 

Your face smushed to his neck, you watch what he's showing you and try to commit it to memory. It's tugging, almost. Kind but with a firm hand. 

"Can I see?" you ask. 

"Please." Steve is quick to pull his boxers down, exposing the pale length, his ruddy tip, the tiniest bead of precum shiny as it oozes from the head's slit. Your breath catches at the sight of his hand, his long fingers encapsulating the thick girth of his cock and tugging up. "Fuck," he says again. 

"Can I do it?" you ask. "Or is it–" 

"Honey, it's okay, you can do whatever you want to me," he reassures. "Just do it, baby, please." 

He rarely ever calls you baby. "Poor boy," you murmur. 

Steve laughs, as if to say, Fuck you, but he's distracted from his plight when you wrap your hand around his warm cock. He pushes your face into his neck instinctively as you start to move against him. 

You've enough sense to spit in your hand and work it around. He's hot, heavy in your hand, tip of his cock to the belly button if you press it toward his torso. 

"I don't think I'll last long," he warns. 

"How do I– do you want me to be gentler?" 

He bucks into your hand with a shiver, groaning like the suggestion is agonising. 

"Should I use my mouth?" you ask. 

Steve really does sound pained, then, his head falling back, his abdomen rising and falling quick against your bicep. "I'm trying to last, baby." It's as though he's begging for something without saying what he wants. 

You try to distract him a little, prolong the inevitable as your fingers flex around his cock. "Kiss me," you say, using a tone you hope —you know— will hook his attention. "Please, Stevie, kiss me?" 

He drags his head up, cheeks as red as the ruddy head of his cock, the heat practically emanating from him as he gives you what you want. These kisses are sloppy rather than messy, lavish rather than tired. Your tongue presses at the seam of his lips and your head turns heavily to the left, sighing into his mouth as his spit paints your lips. His cock leaps in your hand, and you speed up just a touch, the skin bunching ever so slightly with your ministrations. It gets harder and harder for him to kiss you as his climax builds, his breath coming in pants, his thighs and stomach tightening in anticipation. You pull away, letting him shudder and whine by your ear, his hand like a vice around your forearm that's not helping but holding you. You push kisses into his jaw, the skin under his ear, and weave the hand that isn't wrapped around his cock into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp lightly as you confess. 

"I love you," you say, nipping at his neck, printing red crescents in your wake, "I love you," you repeat, hot breath fanning over your hotter kisses. "I love you," you mouth, resting your forehead against his neck.

His head clamps down on top of yours and breath catches, held, his hand practically crushing your wrist as frantic pleasure builds. You speed up even if you're not sure that you should, and it must be the right thing to do —Steve goes white out still and tense as stone, your eyes widening a touch as the first string of cum spills over your fingers. Something snaps in him and he's moaning like he might cry into your hair, breathless panting as sticky cum bumps down over your fingers with each pump, his cock twitching uselessly in your grip. 

You soften your grip but don't slow until he gasps and says, "Honey– ah, ah, don't, don't. Please, that's so–" He laughs deliriously. "I'm gonna pass out." 

You take your hand from his cock, not grossed out or anything but definitely not sure what to do now. Steve's all but collapsed beside you, his torso sliding behind you into the pillows, twisted up and breathing hard as he wraps his arms around your waist. It's an odd position, not the cuddling you'd pictured, but you're content to let him cling to you if he needs to. He breathes in harsh breaths against the small of your back. 

You watch with a burning pit in your stomach as a last bead of cum wets his cock and seeps into his boxers. 

"Did that feel okay?" you ask. His cock twitches again at the sound of your voice. You'll have to ask him what that means.

Steve doesn't answer you straight away. He sits up, and he tucks his cock away, and then he sees the mess he'd made of your hand and laughs. He's definitely high from the pleasure of cumming like that after so long, 'cos he grabs your hand and wipes it clean on the literal t-shirt he's wearing.

"Steve, I could've washed it," you complain, laughing with him.

"I'll wash the shirt," he says. He keeps your hand in his.

"Did it feel good?" you ask again. Low, you're shy to have to ask twice, worried he avoided the question. It obviously felt good, but you want the reassurance that you did it well.

He pulls your hand to his chest and leans down for a kiss. "I'm really worried we shouldn't have done that. That was like, pot. You're gateway drugging me." He kisses you again, and he rubs your hand with his thumb. "Felt good, honey, couldn't you tell? You did– you did so good, honey. It felt fucking good." 

You descend into another round of messy kissing. He must feel the shape of your pleased smile, as he smiles too, and it's very difficult to kiss each other seriously when your lips are hardly touching. 

"Can I ask for something else?" he asks, pulling away. 

Your heart skips, 'cos you think he might ask to fuck you, and after all his pretty sounds and the heat between your thighs, you'll probably say yes, and that would be a terrible fucking idea without any protection—

"Let me go down on you," he says. 

You gawp. "What?" 

"Let me go down on you, sweetheart, please." 

"I didn't even go down on you," you say shyly, heart beating in your stomach now. You shove your hand between your legs impulsively. 

"If you went down on me I would've embarrassed myself," he says. He follows your hand, his own slipping between your legs. "Only if you want to." 

"You don't have to, Steve, I just wanted you to feel good–"

"This is, like, the best day of my life," he says, "or second best, because the first time you told me you loved me was a fucking immense feeling–" 

"'Immense–'" 

"–I want you to feel like I just felt," he interrupts your interrupting. His eyes are imploring and his hands are soft where they roam. "We can stop if you don't like it, but I think you'll like it," he continues, rubbing the inside of your thigh teasingly. "If you want it, please let me." 

You nod quickly and pull him in for a kiss, though you pause when his lips are close and whisper, "I get to go down on you, then?" 

To which your boyfriend groans and kisses you roughly. Your lips are tingling from so many. 

"I guess it is my birthday," he says, with a faux-bashfulness that has you both giggling.

Later, at Robin's, when you're sure "We just got each other off repeatedly," has been written across your forehead for everyone else to see, and a small party of the older friends have gathered for a drink in Steve's honour, Christopher tosses a rectangle in Steve's direction. It slides right into his lap. 

You both look down. 

"Happy birthday, Harrington," Christopher says. "Don't worry, they shrink to fit." 

It's a box of condoms. 

Steve glares at Christopher for the public humiliation, but he puts the box of condoms in his pocket, and everybody gives you shit for it when you're making excuses to leave barely an hour later. 

—

thank you for reading!! I get asked to write about their first time more than anything else which isn't a bad thing, I really love that people like this au and that they want to see that, but I haven't personally been in the mood for that! I figured I'd post this even though it stops at hand stuff / isn't an explicit scene of them fucking because it was gathering dust and also because it hopefully answers some questions I get sent often about their sex lives! maybe I can write them fucking in the future but for now I hope you enjoy :D <3

[moochi-daisies]

2015.02.

- 18+ Minors DNI

- Warnings: Yoongi's gf is a bit of a mess, a smidge of a drunk fight, reader is down bad for JK but is it just a distraction from Yoongi?, JK bein a lil bit of a tease

- Length: 2.6k words

- Sidenotes: merry christmas :) the christmas chapter is gonna be late but i finished this at least haha reader + jk wasn't planned at all for this story but they're pretty cute together and fun to write so there's more of that than i expected. hope everyone has a good day and thank you for readin if you do!

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     After Yoongi called me, we sent some short texts back and forth. It wasn't the same as it had been but, it was better than the year and a half of radio silence. He would usually stop responding if anything required an emotional response. Some excuse involving Lacey always followed, so I learned to steer clear of anything deeper.

     Despite the awkwardness, I was downright giddy over the fact that they were moving to the same city as me. I wouldn't have to depend on dreaming to be around their cozy magic again, to spend more time with them. My mom had left her boyfriend and moved my sister and I into a two bedroom apartment. It was tense with the 3 of us in such a small living space and I frequently daydreamed of introducing my sister to the guy's, of having a safe place to go again.

     The thought that Jungkook and Yoongi would both be there, so close to me and each other, was difficult to comprehend. I pushed the thought away whenever it found it's way to the forefront, shaking my head side to side until it left me alone.

     I had to do this often, as Jungkook was incredibly excited to be close together again.

     He'd started video calling me in the morning, staying until one of our phones would die. Even if I had to work, a lip ringed pout would take over the screen. Soft round eyes and worried brows slowly making their appearance as he'd tilt the phone up and let out a "pretty please.".

     I couldn't ever say no to him.

     It would've been easier if he had a terrible personality.

     I grumbled this at him often, normally while perching my phone in precarious positions while he complained about not being able to see me.

     "Well, lucky for you I have a great personality. Don't I?" he'd start the sentence smugly, giving way to concern by the end of it.

     Whenever I'd look back at the screen to retort, I'd be stunned into silence. I never got used to how handsome he was.

     The way he'd lift his shoulders when he smiled, dimple deepening and cheekbones lifting. The scrunch of his nose. How perfectly round his eyes would get when he'd get lost in thought-

     He was a beautiful boy. Being sweet, caring and attentive only made it all the more gut-wrenching.

     If it weren't for the fact that Yoongi would also be there, I would've been just as excited as Jungkook. Whenever I'd temporarily forget about that fact, Jungkook would have me smiling so hard that my cheeks ached.

     There was even an evening where my jaw locked and I couldn't open my mouth for almost an hour. The nervous giggling escaping through my clenched teeth had Jungkook rolling on the floor, his high pitched and breathy laugh pinging around the living room.

     I hung up, trying to relax my jaw, only for him to call me back immediately. A fierce pout on his face as he scolded me for not saying goodbye first. I wanted to wrap myself around him. To cover his face with kisses and tease him for being such a big baby.

     I was, infatuated. Enamored with him.

     He had started working with Jimin at the dance studio as his teaching assistant. He'd bring his phone to class so I could chat with Jimin and watch them dance. I was not immune, sadly, but highly susceptible to how attractive Jungkook was while he danced. More often than not I'd catch myself crossing my legs, gnawing at my lip and holding my breath. Transfixed as I watched him. He never missed the chance to gloat whenever he'd come back to his phone. He'd glance at me, panting and lifting his shirt to wipe away sweat, while I all but whimpered and tried to hide my expression. The look of pride on his face was always well warranted, but it never stopped me from attempting poorly constructed defenses for why I looked the way I did.

     I got caught watching him at work one day, a coworker letting out a "Whooooo is that?" behind me. I reflexively chucked my phone onto the ground, choking on my words to get out some semblance of "he's my friend.". One eyebrow lifted, she crossed her arms and sunk down on one hip.

     "Ok, suuure. He's quite a sexy friend. Someone's gonna try to snatch him up quick I bet.". The smirk on her face bore into me before she turned on her heel and click-clacked away.

     When I picked my phone back up, Jungkook's face was covering the screen and he was wiggling his eyebrows like a lunatic.

     "I heeeard that." He said gleefully.

     Mortified, I tried to play stoic.

     "I'm just a friend, am I? Gimme her number then, maybe she wants to snatch me up." I knew he was joking but the idea of it flooded me with jealousy.

     "You're not available to be snatched up!" I cried out, nearly stamping my foot as I said it.

     Jungkook's crinkle nosed smile was all I saw, "Yeah, I know. I'm all yours, don't worry.".

     His response made me blush.

     "I'm yours too, you know." I threw my hair over my shoulder as I said it, trying to hide how weak his words made me feel.

     It was the end of October when I got a call from Hobi. He told me that they would be moving within the next week.

      After excited giggles, a somber tone took over and I gulped in preparation for whatever was coming next.

     "Look, between you and me, Yoongi isn't happy with Lacey. But she's got her hooks in deep this time, I've never seen it this bad before." The words were still soft despite Hobi's stern voice.

     "Jungkook has been a giddy idiot lately, which is great for you two. But I'm assuming you aren't completely over Yoongi right?" He didn't wait for me to answer, he knew it as well as I did.

     "I hate having to warn you of things like this but I just wanted you to be prepared for when we're there. Yoongi would never cheat, but I don't think he's as willing to let you go as he's pretending to be." Hobi finished with a sigh.

     "Have I mentioned you're an angel Hobi?". The care behind his decision to share this with me dampened the dull ache that flared whenever I thought of Yoongi. I felt like, maybe, it would be okay. Hobi believed in me, and I wouldn't be facing this alone. I didn't want to let him down.

    Hope fluttered at the possibility that Yoongi didn't want to let me go, balanced delicately on top of the churning complications that came from our relationships with other people.

     "I just care about you all. You're emotional pains in the ass but we all are, in our own ways." Hobi's words were refreshingly direct, similar to what my sister had said during venting sessions, and I snorted in response. Hard stuff out of the way, he filled me in on what the guys would all be doing once they got here.

     He had gotten a job producing for a local music company. Jimin and Jungkook would be working at a dance studio nearby. Namjoon would start teaching English at an International School and Tae was working on his first gallery installation. He didn't mention what Yoongi would be doing.

     When I asked, Hobi tsked to himself and gave a strangely vague answer.

     "Well you know, music is his life. He's working on stuff.".

     I decided to leave it at that, the countdown to their arrival hanging over my head.

     A few days later, I got a call from Jin. He briefly explained that he had gotten a job at a radio station in my city but had to finish out the month before his replacement would be able to take over full time.

     He brushed off my remarks of being happy to see him before continuing, "I wanna see you guys being good to each other when I get there. This is gonna be a minefield, think about where you're stepping.".

     Why did he always have some bridge troll riddle to give regarding relationships?

     I thought I knew what he meant, but the fear of missing something got stuck in my chest like a rusty nail.

     Jin threw out a quick, "miss you" before hanging up.

I peeled off loose hangnails and winced as one tugged off. A bright spot of blood bubbled up in the dent where the skin had been.

     They would be here in four days.

     The second to last night before they were due to move, Jungkook and I were Face-timing. He was stretched out on the couch in oversized grey sweatpants and a giant hoodie. The hoodie had lifted up over his hipbone and I was taking sneak peeks (I thought) at the bits of skin I could see. He was propped up on an elbow and his hood was hiding his face from me.

     "What do you think of that baby?"

I heard him say the words but nothing registered properly.

     He had reached an arm up under his hoodie to rub at his chest muscles, exposing his toned upper body and confirming that he was indeed not wearing anything under his sweatpants.

     "Uh-huh." Was the best reply I could muster. I felt my head nodding but was focused entirely on not blinking.

      Jungkook stopped rubbing at his chest and hooked a thumb into his sweat pants, tugging down ever so slightly.

     For the first time in my life I let out an "eep" before darting my eyes to his face to check if he had noticed me staring.

     All confidence in my sneakiness deflated as I looked at the biggest shit-eating grin I'd ever seen from him. There was even a goddamn twinkle in his eye as he lifted the hand from his sweats to push his hood back away from his face.

"You didn't hear a word I said huh?" he said mischievously. My mouth opened and closed to no avail, I'd been caught, it would be pointless to argue. But I refused to admit defeat.

"No, I heard you. You're just so pretty." I frowned before puckering my lips, trying to twist them away from a pout.

Jungkook was enjoying himself thoroughly, swinging his legs off the couch and leaning forward with his arms on his knees spread wide. Peering at me through the screen, he lowered his voice gently to ask me, "Then, what did I say?".

The neck hole of his hoodie was large enough that it fell open, the light in the living room making it easy to look down into.

"Yes. I mean- wait. Shut up! Do you even know what you said?" The teasing had me flustered, hell, he had me flustered without even teasing me. This was ridiculous.

The same person who cried when I didn't want to stay on the phone while going to the bathroom (because, "We could mute ourselves. At least I'd know you were still there."), was now looking at me like I was the silly baby.

"You know, we'll be together in person soon. In like, less than 48 hours." Jungkook's spontaneous seriousness always came at surprising times.

His eyes were intensely searching for something in my expression and I tilted my head.

"I'm gonna kiss you, even if Yoongi is standing right there." He didn't blink as he said it, maybe looking for a sign that I would turn him down or refuse him.

I cupped my hands around my mouth like I was leaning in to share a secret, loudly whispering, "Not if I kiss you first." back at him.

Relief visibly washed over his face, sharp darkness fading from his eyes as the usual softness replaced it.

"Well good baby, cause allll of this is-" he had started to goofily roll his upper body, grabbing the bottom of his hoodie before a loud crashing sound interrupted him.

Shrieks from Lacey pierced my ears, followed by loud stomping and Yoongi's voice desperately calling out "wait, wait- fuck, WAIT!" behind her. Jungkook dropped his hand and froze, scanning my face to check my reaction.

I had been laying in bed, and pulled my blanket up so that only my eyes were showing. Both of us deer in the headlights, unable to move.

More footsteps came, followed by the front door slamming and muffled yelling.

Jungkook grimaced, "That's been the new norm around here since she moved in. She's...she drinks a lot." He rolled his eyes at the end, tentatively monitoring how I responded.

"Is she- are they, um, does it normally end ok?" I asked, feeling timid. Jungkook and I had been on the phone together every day, most of the day, for at least the past month. How he must've worked to keep me from seeing them fighting battled with my worry for Yoongi's well being.

"Oh, uh, I mean, she apologizes and sweet talks or cries until he gives in. So, kinda. I'm sorry you had to see that, are you ok?" Jungkook was nibbling at his bottom lip and I was overwhelmed by the frustration of being at a distance.

"I'm not leaving your side for at least 3 days when you get here." I declared instead of answering his question. No, I wasn't ok. The limitations of the situation were trapping me in a thick glass case. I had learned way more about Lacey and Yoongi than I had ever cared to know. It was in front of my face and there was nothing I could do but observe it or bang against the glass.

Jungkook's chest swelled up as he inhaled deeply. Eyebrows pulling together while he looked at me as sternly as he could.

His gaze permeated through the glass case, and I could feel him in there with me.

"Well I'm not leaving your side, EVER." he said before blowing kisses at me. He whipped his hand at the screen, like if he threw them hard enough, they might make it across the space between us.

Not wanting him to stop, I tried hiding my smile until it broke free.

"I think you were showing me something?" I said with an air of innocence, looking up as if deep in thought.

Jungkook flopped down onto the couch with a yawn, "I think YOU were gonna read to me like we've been talking about baby."

"Oh! Is that what you were saying earlier? I'll grab it, hang on." I reached onto my side table to grab On Love, by Alain De Botton. Jungkook had no personal interest in reading it but we had a bet going to see if he really needed to hear my voice to fall asleep or not.

When I turned back, Jungkook had his eyes closed and was humming to himself. He insisted he didn't need a blanket, claiming that he only liked how I tucked him in and wouldn't do it any other way.

Only one more night until I could.

I started reading to him, continuing until I saw his head fall forward slightly. Pouty lips twitching as he slept. Smiling to myself, I switched my light off and propped up my phone so I could curl up to sleep.

Sleep didn't come until a few hours later however, not until I had heard the front door open and a single set of footsteps fading away towards Yoongi's room.

[writingsofwesteros]

This is probably a dumb scenario but what if targaryen reader who slept with criston and ended up getting pregnant hides it from him (thinking he’s in love with rhaenyra) by marrying some lord or someone else. He grew some resentment towards her but eventually finds out and then I’m not sure about the ending 😭 Love your writing!!

AN: Thank you so much! I hope you like it x

You were thankful the husband you married had no desire for another child. He found his relief in the whore house and you were glad of it. There was only a need of drunken sex the night of the wedding. Thankfully, you were already with child. It just didn’t belong to your now husband; not that he’d ever know.

And he never suspected. Years passed and your baby boy grew. He was 6 years of age now and the light of your life. “Mama.” You hummed happily as the little one came rushing over to you. The soft blue dress of yours hugged you tightly; pregnancy had been kind to you but you were grateful there would be no more.

“Come on, let's go see the boys.” You whispered down at him. His grabby hand found yours as you both walked. You smiled sweetly at the guards as ever whilst moving over to the courtyard. The sound of metal clashing echoed around. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing Criston again.

You had thought you had found something there and you knew your father would've allowed you to marry. If only you hadn’t seen him wander into your sister’s room that night; you could have been happy. Everything had quickly fallen apart after that and you hadn’t spoken to the knight since. 

You had hoped he wouldn’t be the one training today. His attitude towards you had shifted so differently; you weren’t sure why either. But your heart had been broken too long ago for it to hurt much now. “Princess.” You smiled at Harwin. A very handsome knight that once upon a time your heart fluttered for. “Ser Harwin.” You politely nodded. Even your sister took that from you. Not that you held anything against Rhaenyra for that…only for Criston. You hardly spoke to your sister now. You were close to Ali but with Criston her sworn guard; you began to dodge her too. You missed his face dropping when you continued to walk away.

You smiled down as your baby boy babbled up at you. “When will I be able to ride my dragon?” You giggled at his question. Unknowingly, the sound had Criston’s attention as he looked up from the training. “In a couple more years.” You hummed and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.

A soft pout came over his face as you both finally moved onto the training ground and of course fate was not on your side. Your eyes locked with Criston before you ducked at the coldness in his eyes. “He doesn’t like me.” Your baby muttered and you couldn’t help your eyes widening at his words.

“Shh, nobody doesn’t like you.” You whispered and wondered how much your son had heard or seen. “I do believe the lad is a bit too small, Princess.” Criston’s voice that used to be so soft to you sounded harsh. Your boy moved to your side and for a moment you thought you saw the Knight soften.

“And Rhaenyra’s boys?” You couldn’t help but ask. A flash of anger coursing through your eyes as the boys surrounding you both shared looks. You didn’t wait for him to finish as you scoffed. Of course he would give special treatment to her children. “Come on then. I heard uncle Daemon is back.” Your boy only grew excited at that.

Criston watched you go with a heavy heart and he hated how you didn’t even look back. But he knew he deserved it. “Why do you have Rhaenyra’s children?” Criston rolled his eyes at Harwin’s question. “Because I do not care for her bastards.” The knight snarled and he watched Harwin’s fingers itch to move. To hit him.

Harwin scoffed. “I thought you loved her.” The knight hummed; stepping closer to Criston. “I do not love Rhaenyra.” The knight snarled and thought back to the night she had wanted him and how he had refused her. “No..not Rhaenyra. You love the other Princess.” Harwin couldn’t stop teasing.

Criston could only stare; he had nothing to say so he turned around. “Come on. Let's train.” He ordered the boys and tried to forget about you. 

~

It had been a long day, you thought to yourself. A soft yawn escaping you as you gently locked the door to your baby’s chambers. He was a handful but you wouldn’t change him for the world. You would change other things; his father, you supposed. Even as you thought it you shook your head. No, you wouldn’t change that either.

Those thoughts kept you distracted long enough to turn and move against the chest of a knight. “Oh, I’m sorry…I.” Your eyes looked up to the familiar ones that had haunted your dreams. “Criston.” You breathlessly spoke. “Princess.” His voice was harsh as ever and you moved to step away from him.

You shook your head with a soft scoff before turning to leave. “Pathetic.” You mumbled under your breath. You shook your head as you walked before realising this couldn’t continue anymore. “Why are you so cold to me?” You couldn’t stop the words from falling out of your mouth now. 

You nearly smirked at the shock that washed over him before it was quickly concealed like only he could. “I am only doing what you did.” Criston hummed; his eyebrow raising as he stepped closer. It was your turn to be confused as you stayed put even as the knight began to make his way towards you.

“No, you broke me. You broke my heart.” You whispered out; pushing him away as you looked around. Criston could only stare in complete confusion. “I have no memory of this.” The knight whispered too. “Liar.” You snarled. “I saw you with her.” You continued to babble now. Your emotions quickly rise.

“With who?” Criston whispered with a frown. “With my sister.” You rolled your eyes. “Do not take me as a fool.” You crossed your arms, allowing your soft breasts to brush up and for a moment the action distracted the knight. It was then that realisation came over him. “No..that ..you saw wrong.”

You laughed and shook your head. “You can’t deny it.” You wrapped your arms tighter as the sadness ripped through you. Your eyes watered with tears, you fought so hard to not fall. “No..listen to me.” Criston’s voice was so soft now as he gently took your hand in his. “I told her to go.” You didn’t believe him. These wasted years couldn’t be built on a lie. “Then why did you hate me and my son?” You whispered; your heart racing at the idea of having to tell that truth to him. That was not the right time…was there ever going to be one? “I’m sorry.” Criston whispered as he played with your fingers.

“I’m so sorry.” He slowly moved to his knees. Your eyes widened as he began to beg for your forgiveness. “Criston..” You whispered out; the love you held on for so long that you had hid away came flooding back. “I should have taken your hand in marriage and not that beast.” He babbled.

“He is fine.” You whispered; chewing on your bottom lip. “We..I..nothing happened between us after the wedding night.” You babbled. “Nothing?” Criston whispered with a look of confusion on his face now. He slowly moved to stand. His head looked towards the door of your son’s bedroom. 

“Your son?” Criston questioned and you only looked in confusion before you realised what he was asking. “He’s my son.” You babbled out and in that moment it all came apart. “Your son..and who else?” Criston pleaded with you to answer. “He’s mine, isn’t he?” The words fell easily from his lips.

“No..he’s..” You shook your head and moved to pull away. “I’m sorry.” Criston began again and this time you couldn’t answer and his lips softly found your own. It was as if the one small act healed it all.