#smart key box

[gianhe]

Smart Lock Box: Revolutionizing Security and Convenience

In the era of ever-advancing technology, our lives have become increasingly interconnected and automated. One such innovation that has gained widespread popularity is the smart lock box. This cutting-edge device is revolutionizing the way we secure our belongings and provides unparalleled convenience. In this article, we will analyze the multiple perspectives of smart lock boxes and explore their impact on security, accessibility, and user experience.

Security: One of the primary reasons for the growing popularity of smart lock boxes is their ability to enhance security. Traditional lock boxes often rely on physical keys or combination codes, which can be lost or easily deciphered. Smart lock boxes, on the other hand, utilize advanced encryption algorithms and biometric authentication, such as fingerprint recognition or facial recognition, to ensure only authorized individuals can access the contents. This significantly reduces the risk of theft or unauthorized entry, providing peace of mind for homeowners, businesses, and even vacation rental owners.

User Experience: The user experience provided by smart lock boxes is another aspect worth considering. Traditional lock boxes often require users to memorize complex codes or carry additional keys, leading to inconvenience and potential security risks if lost or stolen. Smart lock boxes eliminate these hassles by offering intuitive interfaces and user-friendly mobile applications. Users can easily manage access permissions, track entry logs, and receive real-time notifications on their smartphones. This seamless integration of technology enhances the overall user experience and simplifies the management of access to the lock box.

Integration with Smart Home Systems: Smart lock boxes are also compatible with smart home systems, allowing for seamless integration and enhanced functionality. Integration with voice assistants, such as Amazon Alexa or Google Assistant, enables users to control the lock box through voice commands. Furthermore, integration with security cameras and motion sensors can trigger automatic locking or unlocking based on pre-defined rules, further enhancing security and convenience.

Conclusion: Smart lock boxes have revolutionized security and convenience in various settings, from residential homes to rental properties and businesses. By combining advanced encryption technologies, remote accessibility, and seamless integration with smart home systems, these devices provide a comprehensive solution for secure and convenient access management. As technology continues to advance, we can expect smart lock boxes to become an essential component of our increasingly interconnected lives.

[number-one-hog-hater]

Just saying shit

[bizarrelovetriangel]

lonely + touch starved mc when they first make their relationship with the boys official? like they're scared to ask for more but desperately need it, since they've been missing it for so long

love your writing btw, thank you for posting it!!! no pressure if this request isn't your thing! :))

sylus

- even before your relationship became official, you and sylus have always been somewhat touchy. hands bumping against each other, fingers ever so slightly grazing, and bodies casually brushing up upon close proximity — it's always been there. his touch, no matter how simple, makes you feel so warm and so special. you haven't felt so wanted, in such a long time, maybe ever. the way he makes you feel is one of a kind, and you can't help but crave for more.

- you decided to be subtle and nonchalant about it, thinking sylus was going to tease you if you ask directly. the 'accidental' touches linger for a little too long, and the amount of times you'd playfully and casually hold him had increased. but maybe you didn't do a good job at keeping it low key.

- sylus pays attention to you more than you think. it didn't take long for him to catch your longing gazes to his lips before looking away, and the way you fiddle with your hands after accidentally touching his.

- "if you want something from me, don't hesistate to claim it. i'm all yours, sweetie." he told you after once again noticing your not-so-subtle-gazes at him. "i'd be happy to give you whatever you ask for. anything at all." that's just what sylus does. he's always encouraging you to be unafraid and boldly go after what you want. do what you want to do without shame.

- and so, with his encouragement, you dared yourself to kiss him. and from the second he kissed back with even more passion, you realized that you have nothing to worry about at all. he wants you just as much as you want him.

- with every day you spend together, you become more and more comfortable in asking for physical affection. just as he said, you don't even really need to ask him — just do it. so, eventually, you've come to a point where, if you want kisses, you just kiss him and he will return with a million times more than you could ever ask for.

caleb

- he's basically a puppy. and puppies are naturally affectionate. even before you were official, physical affection has always been one of his main love languages. headpats, pokes, picking you up, grabbing your waist, ruffling your head, giving you massages, putting an arm around your shoulders, using you as a headrest.... he simply cannot keep his hands off you.

- once you became an official couple, however, while you're grateful that his usual handsiness didn't go away, you started to want more physical affection that are a little more intimate. but you wonder, how could you bring it up without sounding greedy or demanding or awkward? knowing him, he'd tease you and you'd rather not have that right now.

- so you start giving him more longing touches but nothing further. they're like invitations for him to make a move: 'if you want more, then do something' kind of touches. you'd rest your hand on his hands, chest, back, arms and shoulders, hoping that you have some effect on him that will make him want to touch you in return.

- as smart as he is, caleb doesn't catch on right away and fails to fall for your traps, and so eventually you lose patience. "hurry up and kiss me already, dummy" and only then did it click to him that you want more. that you are comfortable to take your relationship a step further in regards to physical affection.

- in truth, he was taking it slow around the time your relationship began because he doesn't want to overwhelm you. he's been in love with you for so long, he'd shoved all his feelings in a box, thinking he'd never be able to act on them. he was afraid of opening that box and overwhelming you with his feelings, so he thought he'd wait for you to get comfortable with his touches as your lover.

- and now that he knows you've been waiting for him, caleb is relieved. at last, he doesn't have to hold back. "if you don't mind, i'd like to be a little more greedy now."

zayne

- your relationship started off slow in general because you're both still testing the waters and learning how to act around each other as a couple. you'd start off with holding hands in private, giving kisses on the cheek, and eventually, kisses on the lips. zayne was quite reserved at the beginning, and so there wasn't as much intimacy as most couples would have at the starting stage.

- although you don't mind the slow pace, you secretly longed for more of his touches that are so gentle and warm, like a sweet embrace. his kisses, despite being brief, are always so passionate and they make you want to melt. his cuddles are even better than your most comfortable blanket. you want to be in his arms forever. but of course, you don't want to seem desperate or scare him away by coming off too strong, so you say nothing.

- little did you know, zayne is just as nervous and touched-starved as you. he wants to feel you and he wants to be held by you, and he wished he was more experienced just so he could be more confident that his actions won't be foolish and wrong. because it's you, he wants to get everything perfect.

- for some time, you two stuck with minimal intimacy. however, both of you have also become impatient rather fast, feeling as if you want more and more of each other every day. you'd wish that those goodnight kisses lasted just a little longer. you'd wished that you'd cuddled more while watching movies. you'd wished that you're next to each other as you fall asleep after talking about how your days went.

- with time, you two have gotten out of your comfort zones together and soon enough, neither of you would get nervous about wanting a kiss, and sleeping next to each other wasn't so terrifying anymore. it's all about timing and getting comfortable with each other. eventually, both of you grew confident with physical affection and intimacy, up to a point where you won't be any need to ask. if you want kisses, you just do it. after all, you're his, and he's yours.

rafayel

- rafayel is so pretty he makes you nervous sometimes. in the beginning of the relationship, you'd find yourself in disbelief that that man is your lover, and that he is in love with you, out of everyone in the deepspace. every time he holds your hand, gives you a kiss, and hugs you, you feel like you're not worthy of such warmth.

- and yet still, you need more. more kisses, more hand holding, more cuddling, even just sitting closely together. you just love that tingling, comfortable, warm feeling that he shelters you with. he makes you feel so loved and appreciated. you feel greedy and clingy at the thought of demanding more of his affection, so you kept it all inside and just took what he gave you.

-but rafayel is someone that made you comfortable so easily. he's often playful and lively, and he tends to move around, a lot. there's a lot of playful touches involved — him locking his arms around yours, holding your shoulders, bumping your hands, and various other little casual physical contact, which greatly helped with intimacy.

- eventually, your nervousness went away and you learned to take initiative, knowing that rafayel will never mind all the physical affection as long as it's with you.

- although, if anything, rafayel might just be a little more touch-starved than you, because he'd been waiting for you for so, so long, and every time you hold him, he's met with a sense of belonging — like everything is going to be okay, and that this life is good, after all. and so, don't be afraid to approach him first because he will always welcome and appreciate your touch, and he will absolutely return it all by a tenfold.

xavier

- he'd be the one to take initiative. you won't even have to ask for more because he wants you even more than you could possibly want him. he can be greedy when it comes to you. even in the beginning, he'd find excuses to be around you and touch you, so you won't ever feel lonely.

- but of course, there comes the times when you're feeling needy for more of him. with xavier, the best thing to do is to be direct and upfront, no matter how scary it seems. you found that the best time is when he's sleepy. he is so cuddly. all you need to do is lie down next to him and he'll gradually get closer and closer into cuddling with you until eventually you're spooning. he'd usually make the first move and ask, "is this okay?" or sometimes he'd just do it and read your expressions. if you like it, he'll do it more. if you don't, he'll stop right away.

- if you want to make the first move, he's always been open and inviting with you. he'll always make sure you're comfortable. he's very approachable, so it doesn't take long for you to become confident with what you want from him.

- but mostly, xavier will always want to give than take more, so you won't ever have to worry. with him, you'll always know that you are loved.

[alluringeight]

Astro Observation 777🎪

Trigger Warning: death & SA mentions 🎯

🎳Capricorns tend to be obsessed with themselves especially if the sun sits in the first house. Could love looking at themselves. Could also watch themselves eat or take pictures after crying.

🎳Scorpio in 11th don’t have friends even if you are a social butterfly these individuals don’t consider many as friends. Have trust issues and have been betrayed by many or end up falling out with friends. These people like more intimate friend groups with a small number of people. Very possessive over their friends & of their friends don’t listen to them it could make them mad. Since scorpios desire emotional connections they find it hard to relate to just anybody. And they get jealous with their friends have friends lol. They want to be someone’s favorite person.

🎳Mercury in 5th at best are slick & always seem like they are up to something. May have a contact for any and everything. They have great intellect even if it appears they don’t. The way they communicate is childlike and can take a joke. At worst they could promise the moon and stars and they could lack the resources to keep up with the promise.

🎳It’s something about your Moon falling into your partners 5th that makes them want to have a baby with you.

🎳 People who sun fall into your 9th house are the ones who share the same beliefs as you. These are the people you can talk about your spiritual journey with (depending on what you believe in or lack of belief) These people can be your teachers in a way too.

🎳Virgo in 9th are very detail oriented. They may want To learn new languages and when curious they tend to research topics until they have a better understanding. May think outside the box when it comes to religion and belief systems. Are very attracted to foreign places and have a strong desire to travel. These people are really smart and could excel in a career they seem worthy. Takes learning new hobbies very serious and could be multifaceted.

🎳Suns in 11 degrees may have many friends. In water placements it could indicate over extending yourself and looking out for others than you do yourself.

🎳Water placements in moon are very in tune with themselves & their bodies could always tell them what they need to know. Their bodies could sense when theirs something wrong and also it could give you ability to feel when someone around you is going through as well as people energy they always know when they’re being betrayed.

🎳Leos boast about their children to others, I’ve noticed they may not necessarily tell their children how proud they are but will let it be known to others (ofc it could depend on other placements)

🎳A person with a stellium touching your 5th could be your best friend (this is friendship obs) but also could be your bestie with romantic relationships. These people are your ace boon coon y’all love to spend time together and have fun but know when to give healthy space. Could admire each other and could go on adventure together.

🎳Sun at 20 degrees are of transformation ; you may go through a plethora of obstacles in order shed old habits and ways of living. You may express a pivotal period where someone’s death could affect your entire trajectory of life. You may have been sexual from a young age could be because of (SA) but the older you get the less you care for it. Many people share things with you they normally don’t tell others they feel at ease being in your presence.

🎳Sun at 2 degrees would be for people who need to learn to speak up for themselves & they love to tend to their needs. Money is a key factor in these people lives and they spend it on pleasures. May have grew up in poverty but these individuals are really smart and they could go to college & have lucrative careers when older. These people are very soft spoken.

🎳Moon in air sign placements are complicated with these placements (Aquarius, Gemini & Libra) these people are detached or appear as such paired with their more logical way of thinking could cause friction when it comes to relationships of any kind. Instead of dealing with their emotions they over think and over analyze it and leave it as that. There flighty nature can be a turn off to most which is why other air sign placements tend to be good for them since they understand each others lack of emotional depth.

- Aquarius moons appear aloof but crave emotional intimacy they just haven’t figured it out yet and it could chase people away but they could deal with the madness in their head a little better than their counterparts.

- Libra moons are pushovers and are always ready to hear both sides before passing judgement & allow others to walk over them because they want to be liked and seen as easy to deal with

- Gemini moons are detached and tend to ignore that part of themselves & are constantly changing their hobbies and themselves and need a partner who can keep up with their erratic nature.

These moons sometimes can research or ask for other opinions on what they should do instead of going within and figuring it out. They have an obtuse way of thinking.

[charliemwrites]

There are men across the street.

The house (and you use the term generously) that slumps there has been vacant for some time now. Ever since you moved in a couple years ago, actually. It’s an eyesore for sure. Graffiti on the walls, boards on the windows, a basketball-sized hole in the roof. The porch is the worst of it. Sagging in the middle and crumbling on the ends, stripped and moss-encrusted wood.

But today there are men there, stomping up and down the groaning steps in big, steel-toed boots.

You watch for a bit from the safety of your kitchen window, sipping coffee and batting your cat off the counter. They don’t look like a normal construction crew - wearing all black and not so much as a hammer on their belts. Three of them that you can see, one about average height, one tall, and one very tall. The tall one tags after the shortest of them often, gets pushed and shoved and snapped at it seems like.

You lose interest when the coffee runs out and your phone chimes, shooing you off to the grocery store. All three have disappeared inside by the time you saunter out, keys jingling and reusable bags in hand.

Margot says they’re renovating - likely some rich man’s retirement project. The same thing happened just down the street six months before you moved in, and now Joe has solar panels.

She postulates over the situation across the street while taking delicate bites of the cheesecake she brought over. (A test recipe for her niece’s baby shower in a few weeks. You don’t tell her that it’s too sweet and just sip your tea between bites.) She hypothesizes that one of them is this hypothetical rich man’s son, bringing some handy friends around for extra hands to work.

It sounds about as plausible as Agatha’s mutterings that they’re drug lords, so you nod along and watch your calico sneak up on your tuxedo behind her.

The garden is your own little retirement project. (You’re not actually retired, no matter what your sister snipes. But some smart money moves and a successful writing career is virtually the same with no kids and no spouse.) It’s going about as well as the renovations across the street - which is say, better and quicker than expected.

You planted clover in the yard, and are working on wildflowers in the boxes. The clover is already blooming, little flower tufts springing up for bumblebees to perch on. The wildflowers are mixed success so far, but nothing is dead yet.

You mostly just tootle around to be outside - allotted sunshine lest you become the shut in Bertram accused you of your first couple months.

The cats watch you pick at weeds from the window. Or two of them do. The other one is glaring from the fridge, angry that you tossed her back inside when she tried to slip past your ankles. (With any luck, you’ll have another sibling for them soon, but the handsome orange thing that keeps coming by at dawn and dusk is too stupid to be caught.) All three of them shift to look at something over your shoulder.

“Excuse.”

You don’t startle, thankfully. The voice may be unfamiliar, but neighbors stop by consistently enough that you’re not surprised to have your solitude interrupted.

What you are surprised by is the tall (very, very tall) man standing at the edge of your front yard. One of the renovators.

“Hi,” you say, straightening.

He points a gloved finger at you - no, not at you. Past you. At your cats.

“May I see them?” He asks in a thick German accent.

You blink, surprised and confused.

He’s a big man. Not just unusually tall, but broad as well. Muscle tugs at the fabric of his shirt, cargo pants clinging to his thighs. He also hasn’t bothered to take off the heavy duty dust mask, black sunglasses, or jacket hood obscuring his features. Looks like he’s about to rob you, honestly.

But Agatha’s uncharitable muttering about delinquent men rings like a warning toll. You’re at risk of sinking into the judgmental sea of upper-middle class suburbia, and that’s not water you want to tread.

“Sure!” You reply, ignoring his lack of introduction. “One sec.”

The cats see you dart from view and hurry to meet you at the door, meowing and yowling. You crack it open only wide enough to snatch up your precious firstborn, his leggies sticking out in abject bafflement at being airborne. You make guilty eye contact with your other two fiends before swiftly wedging the door shut again.

Then adjust your son, his little paws resting on your shoulder as you turn. Your visitor is standing right where you left him, perks up when he sees the cat bundled in your arms.

“This is Guy.”

You step closer, ignoring that shred of nervousness that being close to any man (especially one so physically intimidating) brings. To his credit, he only shuffles just enough to offer his hand for inspection.

“Guy?” he asks.

“I wasn’t going to adopt him at first, so I just called him Little Guy for so long that he thought that was his name. And then I did adopt him and now he won’t answer to anything else.”

You come by the rambling honestly - an obligate introvert until you moved to this neighborhood. There are few things you ever want to talk about with strangers, but your cats are one of them.

“He is a little guy,” the man muses.

Guy has no reservations about rubbing his fat face on the stranger’s glove, a purr kicking up in his chest. You relax as the man keeps his touch gentle and slow, that little bit of paranoid tension trickling into the soil beneath your feet.

“The other two aren’t as well behaved, I don’t trust them without harnesses on,” you add, nodding at the window.

The man glances up at them. Doesn’t seem to realize that his demise (and yours) is imminent from their glares.

“What are their names?”

You flush. “Rasputin and Shithead. I tell everyone else her name is Susan though.”

A sharp bark of laughter splits the air like a falling ax, cracks right down the middle. It makes you jump a bit - Guy is expectedly unbothered - but still you find yourself gratified. Laughing is good, it means you’re doing things right.

“Sorry,” he says, “but my friend would like that name.”

You gesture at the house across the street. “One of them?”

“Yes, the short one.”

You only just manage not to snort in amusement, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing. The mask moves, you think he might be grinning underneath.

“Does he know you call him that?”

“Not if you don’t tell him.”

You doubt you’ll have the opportunity even if you wanted to.

Someone’s at the door.

You’re only half-dressed, waist deep in laundry you have no excuse for putting off so long. Aren’t expecting company either - it’s Sunday morning, everyone should be at their various churches or visiting relatives. Can’t remember the last time someone knocked before noon on a Sunday.

Still, it was a big solid knock. The kind that makes you think it’s not the usual neighbor come by to impose on your space.

You glance down at the hem of your sweatshirt, determine it’s far enough down your thighs to be acceptable, and pad to the door.

You open it to another of the renovators. The “short” one - though you readjust that measurement quickly. He’s still taller than you, it’s just that most anyone seems diminutive compared to his friend.

“Morning,” you chime.

“We need your driveway.” His voice is low and rough, blunt. A sledgehammer to concrete. Also German-accented, you note.

“Oh,” you reply, “what for?”

He grunts. “Work.”

And you, a longtime observer of politely shaking people down for information by this point, smile without teeth.

“Oh, a work truck? It won’t make a mess will it?”

“No.”

You hum, glance at your stupid little sedan parked in the middle of the driveway.

“Okay, I’ll move — Shithead!”

You scramble to grab at the black and white blur of evil, sweeping her up in your arms as she meows in complaint. One of her back feet catches in the hem of your sweatshirt and starts to pull it up as she kicks. You curl an arm under her butt for support, but mostly she just takes the opportunity to chomp down on the meat of your thumb.

You glance at the man. “Shithead is very interested in the renovations.”

He stares. “So that is actually its name. I thought you were being rude and Konig didn’t realize.”

Ah, so that’s his name. You never did get that introduction.

“No, yeah, this is Shithead, I’m sure you can see why.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as she unlatches from your thumb, only to bite down on your wrist.

“So! The truck - when will it be here?”

“Noon.”

“Great! See you around!” You shut the door in his face without getting a name.

You threaten, not for the first time, to turn her into a pair of mittens. She responds by attacking your foot until Rasputin tackles her. Guy cries at the door, probably missing a man he met for all of two minutes.

The work truck stays through the night. Your cats spend all afternoon watching the men cross the street and back. Every once in a while, Guy puts his little feet up on the glass - Konig must be passing by.

You glance out the kitchen window only once and make hard eye contact with the third of their trio. He’s somehow even more covered up than Konig, and yet you get the distinct impression that your gaze is not welcome.

You blink and abandon the dishes for later.

The next morning, they’re already at it when you shuffle outside for the mail. Konig raises a slow hand in greeting, but visibly brightens when you smile sleepily and wave back.

You pass the work truck - the back panel is already open for them to unload wood beams and heavy-looking buckets. Construction stuff, as expected - and not messy, as promised.

You spot a red and white flag decal on the rear window. Austria, isn’t it?

“Did you just wake up?” a flat voice asks.

You squint a little through the morning sun at the man from the day before. The rude one.

You yawn. “Mhmm.”

He frowns at you, disapproval plain. Agatha will like him, you muse, shoving a hand in your mailbox. They both seem to have strong opinions about your sleep schedule.

“It is late.”

“It’s only 8.” You tug out a sheaf of envelopes and begin idly flipping through them.

“The sun is up.”

“So what?”

He clicks his tongue disdainfully. You absently click back. Then jump as a big body lands right in front of you. The third man, two wooden beams balanced on his shoulder. He makes brief eye contact with you again, then strides across the street.

“Shoo,” the rude one says. “Men at work, yes?”

You grumble. “See if I bring you cookies.”

Konig glances up from the truck bed, eyes shining. “Cookies?”

Well shit.

Rasputin keeps you company while you cook. He’s the only one allowed on the counter for any length of time. Shithead steals anything and everything, or bats at your hands while you work. Guy has the equal parts endearing and infuriating habit of touching everything with his paws.

Rasputin is the only one who will sit quietly to observe, leaning in for the occasional kiss. Today, he’s watching you bake cookies and assemble sandwiches. A dual-purpose welcome and peace offering to the three men across the street.

Is it too much? Maybe. But you’ve got nothing better to do and kindness won’t break your bank, so. Cookies and sandwiches.

You change clothes while the cookies cool on the pan - a sundress for the warm, late-spring weather. They’ve seen you in your pajamas far too much already.

At the door, you hesitate. This house doesn’t feel inhabited yet, but it also doesn’t feel right to just open the door. It’s quiet inside, so no power tools to drown you out. Making a face, you settle for a firm knock. It takes a minute or two - you think you might hear distant shouting. Then the door swings in fast and hard, nearly startling you.

It’s the third of their trio, the one you’ve yet to speak to. He’s covered head to toe, fabric around his head and face, leaving only sharp blue eyes to glare out.

“Hi,” you begin, hands thankfully too full to fidget. “I brought food.”

His eyes flick to the foil-covered platter in your hands. Then he swings the door wide and pivots on his heel.

“The cat comes too.”

Cat?

You glance down. Sure enough, Rasputin is standing by your legs, his remaining half a tail swishing. You sputter at him - didn’t even realize he snuck out - but all you get is his characteristic raspy “mah” noise. Right then.

He politely trots by your side as you enter, not even shy about your curiosity. The place is gutted, stripped walls and scuffed floors. It smells like dust and plaster and shaved wood. All the lights have been ripped out of the ceiling, exposing wires like nerve-endings.

There are two empty rooms to either side upon entry, a den and a dining room probably. The den even seems to be split into two, with one half sunk lower, accessible by a couple steps.

You follow your unexpected host through the “dining room,” which seems to be more of a satellite staging zone at the moment. There are piles of tools, stacks of materials, a little island of canvas bags. As you pass through, you notice a staircase, and even from the ground floor, you can see that it crosses over to the den on the other side.

The kitchen is stationed towards the back of the house. You try not to wince at the state of the counters. Pockmarked, blistered, scratched, burned, cracked laminate.

The floor has already been pried up to reveal smooth concrete. You scan it quickly for anything that could hurt Rasputin’s feet before entering.

Your neighbor gestures for you to set the platter down on an empty patch of counter, so you do, peeling back the foil.

“Cookies and sandwiches,” you explain just to have something to say.

“Why?” he asks.

You shrug. “To be nice.”

He stares. You blink back.

“I mean, you don’t have to eat them,” you add. “It would just be a waste.”

Rasputin chooses that moment to leap onto the counter, taking a moment to steady himself once he’s landed. With only one eye and a crooked leg, he’s not the most acrobatic or graceful of your babies, but he makes do.

To your shock, though, once he’s gained his bearings, he makes like he’s going to eat one of the sandwiches.

“Ras,” you gasp, surprised. “Absolutely not!”

The little shit doesn’t even resist when you nudge him away, just settles on his haunches, staring at your neighbor. And, to your confusion, your neighbor grunts.

“Konig! Krueger!” he barks.

That must be the rude one’s name. Krueger. You file that tidbit away.

“What’s your name?” You ask. “No one’s told me.”

He eyes you - dare you say suspiciously - letting the silence stretch.

“Nikto,” he rasps finally.

You finish introducing yourself just as the other two enter. Konig’s down to just the dust mask today, while Krueger seems to have donned one for himself.

“You,” Krueger says.

You arch your eyebrows back. “Me.”

“What brings you here?” Konig interjects, much friendlier.

“Well, you really seemed to want cookies yesterday, so I thought I’d bring some with lunch as a welcome to the neighborhood.”

He practically shoves Krueger to get to the kitchen. You politely get out of the way so he can indulge in your offering without getting trampled.

“Danke schön,” he says, scooping up a sandwich.

“No problem,” you answer, smiling.

Krueger deigns to sidle closer, inspecting the platter with a keen eye. Still, you think you see a bit of appreciation in them before he snatches up one of the sandwiches. For some (concerning) reason, you’re gratified by that. (You’ll just blame it on your habit of feeding ferals and strays.)

“I also wanted to give you three a little warning…” Three pairs of eyes pin you in place. You try not to grimace. “Everyone on this block is nosy as hell. They will literally peak in your yard and check your mail.”

“The mail?” Konig asks, appalled.

“Yeah, I started using a PO Box,” you sigh. You’ve only got so much sanity before you start taking sniper shots with a water gun.

“We will handle it,” Krueger says.

“I’m sure,” you demure. “Anyway, that was all. You can drop the platter off later - or I can come get it. It’s not like you’re far.”

You start looking for Rasputin, only to find him perched on Nikto’s broad shoulder. The man doesn’t even seem bothered by the claws digging through his shirt, scratching a finger at the calico’s cheek.

“Huh,” you say, surprised.

Nikto glances at you, pauses. “What?”

You snort at the bluntness, but grin. “Usually I’m the only one allowed to pet him.”

That’s three for three. Well, two and a half. Shithead could have been trying or escape or go for the ankles for all you know. But Krueger seemed to like her, so that counts for something.

“C’mon my little tank, let’s go,” you coo, approaching.

Rasputin nuzzles his face against Nikto’s once, gives him a parting mraw, then leaps into your waiting arms.

“Bye, guys!” You call, waving over your shoulder as you head for the door.

Konig is the only one to respond with a polite, “see you!” But you don’t take it to heart.

Next

Masterlist

[melodyofmbaku]

Her House, Her Rules (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)

Warning ⚠️: They're a trio.

Preview: Annie was the center of their world, their matriarch, sun, moon, stars and the fucking sky where they were concerned.

Word Count: 1.94k

A/N: Ya'll gonna have me writing a fic a day and I kinda love it. Keep the requests coming 🤠💁🏾‍♀️

____

“Now you know she ain’t like you doin’ all that in the house Stack.” Smoke warned his brother as he saw him light up his cigar.

The boys were laid up on different couches opposite each other in just their boxers. It was a sticky southern summer day and they were taking no chances in the hot ass sun. They were both men of the night now. 

Stack had convinced his brother to join him in his world of eternity shortly after he turned. And his brother didn’t decline. Living in a world without his brother was unfathomable. 

When they told Annie, she struggled for a while - she didn’t want that life for herself but still wanted them in her life. Annie chose to love them anyway. She married them anyway. And that’s why she was the love of their life.

Annie was the center of their world, their matriarch, sun, moon, stars and the fucking sky where they were concerned. So when she expressed her dislike of them smoking in the house, it wasn’t a question of if the boys would smoke in the house. The boys, wouldn’t smoke in the house. 

Smoke's warning caused his younger brother to roll his eyes as he took a drag. 

“Well, this my house too.” Stack replied back with an impish grin. 

“Ion want no trouble. You not bouta fuck up my chance of getting some tonight cuz you wanna be smart Stack. Put it out.” The older commanded the younger. 

He shook his head.

“It’s just this one time and she ain’t here so she ain’t gon’ know. Unless you tell her.” Stack stared pointedly at his twin.

“You gon tell her?” He asked with a raised brow before sucking on his cigar once more. The flavour filled his dead lungs and swirled about for a bit before he exhaled. That was one thing he liked about being undead. The mechanics of his body worked differently. There’d be no choking over here. 

“We took vows man why, you always wanna rock the boat?” Smoke asked highly annoyed at his brothers antics. 

“Yeah yeah, I ain’t cheatin’. Just smokin’.” he took a hit of his cigar obnoxiously once more.

“I’m here bored as hell man. Can I live? You want some?” he asked his older brother cheekily.

He received a glare in response. Smoke still — smoked — obviously but just out on the porch, adhering to the rules his lady had for the house. The boys may have been undead, but her potted plants were not.

“I married her too Smoke. So if we gotta problem I’ll take it up with her myself.” 

And that was the thing with Stack, he was all bark and no bite because when his lady pulled up to the house earlier than expected he started singing a very different off key tune.

Annie's melodic laugh carried from the front porch into the house as her footsteps sounded on the wood, getting closer and closer to the door. 

“I’ll see ya’ll later! Next time bring a towel!” She yelled back at the girls whose car squealed off down the dirt road. 

“Shit.” Stack exclaimed frantically trying to stow away the evidence of his crime. 

She wasn’t supposed to be back yet. She said she’d be hanging out with the girls at the lake and coming home in the evening to make dinner. Stack's eyes found the clock, it was not time for dinner. 

The speed in which he ashed the cigar would’ve been comical if it hadn’t left a burn mark on the couch. 

“Fuck!” he spat. He flapped his arms about looking for a solution. 

The front screen door creaked open. She was here. 

Smoke glowered at him before rising to greet their wife. “Hey baby, you had fun playin’ in the water?” He’d angled himself strategically to block her view of Stacks soiled couch. He rubbed his hands on her arms, still a little damp from her dip. 

The move gave his twin enough time to throw a blanket over the mark and kick the cigar box full of evidence under the couch. 

“Yeah. Mary forgot her towel, so we had to cut it short.” 

She stretched up and kissed her husband long and deep before orienting herself around him to find her other one. Once her eyes landed on Stack she grinned. 

She tapped her lips expectantly and Stack closed the distance between them and ducked down before giving her a quick kiss.

She frowned at the small display of affection before she began unpacking her bag and recounting the events of her day. She covered everything from the moment she left the house until the second she landed back on the porch.

The boys typically liked hearing about her days, especially because they didn’t really experience them anymore. They barely saw the people they grew up with now, unless it was in the dark of night. A juke, a party, a hang… then they’d show, because that’s the only time they could.

“I missed y’all.” Annie said before collapsing back into Smoke’s lap on the couch. 

“We missed you too princess.” Smoke responded stroking her arm once more. He was always touching.  

“What’d you guys get into while I was gone?” She asked, beaming across the room at Stack. It was their turn to share with her the events of their day. 

Stack spoke up quickly. 

“We was thinking we change up the sitting room. These couches bout old as hell, I bet Mr. Chow got the connect on somethin’ nice and new for us. What you think?”

She looked around her and she scrunched up her nose.  “What’s wrong with what we got right now?”

“Nothin’!” Smoke replied alarmed and eyes wide.  

Annie furrowed her brow. Maybe they could use a bit of a refresh across the house stylistically. She shared her thoughts contemplatively. 

“Ion know bout somethin’ new. But maybe we could ask the girls at the shop for some new fabric, maybe change that. She’ll be good as new. No need to spend all that extra money.” She gestured to their fully functioning, not that old couch. 

“We got more than enough money.” Smoke reassured her as he always did, rubbing her back. He was the bookkeeper of their little family. He handled the money stuff, he made sure they were always good. Budgets, projections, the whole 9. 

Smoke didn’t wanna get involved in this play at all, but he saw the potential and it could work.  They’d replace the couch, Annie would be none the wiser and he'd still get to draw moans out of her that evening. It was a win-win. He chimed in. 

“Nah mama, we wanna make sure it’s nice and new. Chow got some styles from up North. Lemme talk to him.” Smoke bent down and placed a kiss on her temple once more.

“Let us handle it baby.” Stack said from across the room. 

She hesitated before nodding. 

“Ok.. I’ll leave y’all to it.” She said as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep in her lovers arms.

Smoke had stepped out that evening. Had to go check in on some business things and he didn’t want to be in the house right now, he was a bad liar and the more he could avoid Annie the better. 

Stack stayed home and kept Annie company but unfortunately the couch incident was steady on his mind. He didn’t like lying to Annie; it didn't sit right in his stomach. That evening she kept smiling at him, feeding him and loving him and it was all too much for him. Why’d she have to be so good? 

She had resigned herself to her room to wind down before bed. Stack couldn’t do it anymore. He had to confess. 

He marched himself over to her room and knocked on her door. The boys made sure the second bedroom was just for Annie. There she could make herself up, or just have a space away from them whenever she needed it. There was only 1 Annie and two of them, they never wanted her to be overwhelmed.

“Come in.” her voice travelled across the room and through the door. 

“Hi baby.” She beckoned him inside. She was laying on her bed, reading a book. He stepped inside the room and shut the door quietly. He stayed at the door though.

One thing Stack couldn’t deal with was anxiety. Annie helped him with that, and alot of his other emotional regulatory issues. He bit his lip. “I can come over there?” 

Annie looked at him funny. “Of course.”

He walked over and kneeled beside the bed. 

“I have something to tell you. Promise me you ain’t gon be mad.”

Her lip quipped up. “That depends on what you bouta tell me Elias.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Her hand shot out to stroke his face lovingly. She had the sweetest spot for him. Elijah was daddy, but Elias? Elias was baby. 

“I promise sweet boy.”

Elias hung his head low before blurting out:

“Ismokedinthehouseandfuckedupyourcouchandimsorry.”

Annies face was deadpan. 

“You wanna say that again, in a language I can understand?”

He took a deep breath and tried again. Eyes still squeezed shut. 

“I was smoking in the house and fucked up the couch and I’m sorry.”

The room was silent for a moment before Annie broke it with her response.

“I know.”

“Now I know you mad —“ he stopped. His face scrunched up and his shoulders dropped the stress leaving his body like a waterfall.

“You know?”

She nodded her head. A small smile tugging on her lips. 

“Smoke told you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Then how you know?” He asked bewildered.

“I checked it out when I woke up from my nap on the couch. I lifted up the blanket you threw over the burn when y'all thought you were being slick conspiring in the kitchen. You never use a blanket.”

And it was true. Stack ran hot. Sweaty all the damn time. The fluffy fabric being draped all over his couch was uncharacteristic of him.  

“You not mad?”

“I ain’t happy that you lied to me, but it was creative and I wanted to see how long you could keep it up.” she wore an amused smile on her face. 

He huffed before admitting.  “I been feeling bad all night.”

“Who's fault is that?” She asked raising a brow. 

“You right.”

He paused before her spoke up again. “So you not mad?” He asked to clarify once more. 

“No. I’m not mad Elias. Plus, y'all wanted to replace my couch with no fuss. I ain’t complaining… just know I’ll want new carpets too.” She responded, looking pleased with herself. 

“Good luck explaining that one to your brother with his budgets. Time for you to go Elias. Shut the door on your way out.” she said before turning her back to her husband.

He rose from her bedside and smiled before heading towards the door. 

“Night Annie.”

“Elias?” she called out.

He stopped, hand hovering over the doorknob. He was so close. 

“No more smoking in the house. Next time I won’t be as forgiving.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He responded before closing the door quietly and assessing himself. 

He was relieved for a second because he was no longer lying to his wife and she wasn't mad. His chest puffed up. See? Wasn’t nothing to worry about. 

That was before he realized the predicament he was in and he deflated quite shortly after.

He done traded one problem for another. 

New fucking carpets too?

Smoke was gonna whoop his ass. 

---

Taglist

@sarcastic-sunshines @chaneajoyyy

[flwrkid14]

Had the silliest idea while making breakfast.. what if Damian’s Favorite Brother is Tim, but for the Dumbest Reason...pancakes

My idea is that Tim is Damian’s favorite brother, but not for the reasons one might expect. It’s not because of Tim’s skill, his smarts, or his ability to stay three steps ahead in every fight. Nope. Damian’s real reason for favoring Tim over Dick, Jason, or even Bruce is much simpler.

It’s because Tim makes the best pancakes. Like, legendary pancakes.

Not even kidding.

One morning, Tim casually whips up a batch of pancakes in the kitchen—y’know, because Alfred’s off running errands and the rest of the family doesn’t know the first thing about breakfast beyond opening a box of cereal, and Tim's been feeding himself since he was six. So Tim steps up to the stove, and bam—fluffy, golden stacks of heaven.

Damian, who never really cared for breakfast, takes one bite of Tim’s pancakes and is sold. From that moment on, he’s obsessed.

“Drake, you will make me those pancakes again tomorrow."

And Tim just blinks, completely confused, but shrugs it off like, “Uh, sure?”

The next morning, Damian’s right there in the kitchen, bright and early, waiting for his daily dose of pancake perfection. By the third day, he’s even dragging a chair next to Tim, watching like a hawk as Tim cooks, making sure he’s using the right ingredients.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Batfamily is just like, “Really? This is the thing that bonds them?”

Tim, being Tim, just rolls with it. He doesn’t ask questions. If Damian wants pancakes, Damian gets pancakes. He’s just trying to survive his new role as “Pancake Master.”

But Damian? Oh, he’s serious about this.

Damian tells anyone who will listen that Tim is the only one who knows how to make breakfast properly. He’ll give the other brothers side-eye anytime they dare to suggest they could cook for him. Even Alfred raises an eyebrow, but Damian’s already set: Tim’s pancakes or nothing.

What’s even funnier is that when Damian gets pissed off at anyone, he refuses to eat their cooking. But Tim? Untouchable. The one person who can screw up as many times as he wants and still be in Damian’s good graces—because those pancakes? Irreplaceable.

So, while the Batfamily argues over strategy, patrols, or who gets to drive the Batmobile, Damian's priorities are clear:

"You’re all amateurs. Drake’s the only one who makes pancakes worthy of the Wayne name.”

And now, Tim’s been promoted to Damian’s favorite brother for the silliest reason imaginable. But hey, if the key to Damian’s heart is pancakes, Tim’s got that title locked down.

[vampdes]

tenya iida, after you took the first step and asked him out, made it his absolute mission to be the one to initiate your first kiss.

you, being you, had taken the majority of the “firsts” in your relationship—first flirt, first date, first hand-holding, first sleepover, first cheek kiss—and it’s not like iida didn’t enjoy you taking initiative! he enjoys everything you do and have done! but. . he’d like to do at least one thing since you’re, from what he has heard from mina, “not gonna give up on proposing first! like, at all, yn’s, like, dead-set on it!”.

the thing is, though, iida doesn’t. . well, he, uhm. . he just, you know. .—okay, okay, fine! fine. it’s just that iida can’t–doesn’t know how to. . to kiss! he’s kissed you on the cheek, of course, and–and, sometimes, when he’s feeling a bit bold, on your knuckles where your version of the promise rings the two of your wear rested! but he doesn’t know how to kiss. how to. . makeout, you know?

so. . youtube becomes his ally, and he gets really, really intimate with his pillow. it’s embarrassing, sure, and he knows he can ask you! but then, he’s not doing it himself. and iida wants to do one thing himself, you know? however, it’s not like he can practice on someone real if that someone isn’t you, so his, uhm, training, of sorts, comes up short. nevertheless, he trusts himself to not mess this up! he’s learned twice as hard as he does when he’s in sensei aizawa’s class, so he’s going to do his absolute best! aka: perfection.

on the night that iida wants to intiate the very first kiss of your relationship, he makes sure his dormroom is absolutely perfect (like the first kiss will be!). candles—electric ones! he’s not going to break more rules than he already has just to be perceived as romantic—are placed strategically around his dormroom, rose petals are in the shape of a heart on his bed (many google searches gave him that idea), and a heart-shaped box of chocolates with a large, oversized, bow-tie wearing teddy-bear are resting against the foot of his bed (the chocolate is being held by the bear! cleanliness is key when it comes to romance). iida surveys his room, nods in confirmation and reassurance of the ill words plaguing his mind, flips his arm over and look down to check the time: 8:35pm. you’ll be here in, approximately, five minutes! iida is, once again, growing butterflies in his stomach. different forms of the same feeling arise, and the all pinpoint to one thing: iida’s unsure.

he’s never been unsure of something before! not when he wanted to become a hero, not on any test or pop quiz, not when he accepted you asking him out on your very first date nor when you asked him to be your boyfriend officially, not on anything before this, his first kiss with you. should he intiate? should he let you take the lead like always? should he—oh god, what should he do! his internal freak-out is cut short by the sound of your knuckles rapping against his door. deep breath in, deep breath out, deep breath in, deep breath out, deep breath in—iida opens the door with a smile, and moves aside for you to come in after you kiss him on the cheek.

stick to the plan, tenya, he told himself, trying to make sure he didn’t implode before your lips were firmly, or what is softly?, pressed against his.

you looked around the room in awe, giggling at the electric candles and teasing him for always playing it safe. little did you know, he’s not tonight! he’s going out of his zone, out of his metaphorical shell, and is venturing into the unknown zone of your relationship. iida shyly shows every tiny aspect to you, flushing more and more each time you complimented him and his ideas or called him cute or smart, before leading you to your designated seat: the edge of his bed. you, as instructed by the video, sit on the left and he sits on the right—so he could lean in whilst the notebook, voted no. 1 most romantic movie on reddit!, played in the background. his plan, so far, has been going swimmingly and will end on the absolute highlight of the night when he kisses you.

after the movie begins, iida does one of the, as the internet said, best romance movies of all time. he yawns, stretches, and places his left arm over your shoulders. you turn to him, smiling with narrowed eyes, and ask: “are you flirting with me, mr. class president?”

his face bloomed a shade of red that was nothing but him becoming flustered from your words. the thing is, he wasn’t prepared for this. you weren’t supposed to say anything—oh god. does he stick to the ‘book’? does he quote-unquote ‘wing-it’?

iida looks at you, his glasses reflecting what the characters were doing on his tv, and he leans in. he leans in, tilts his head so his nose does not press-up against yours, and his lips softly peck yours. soft, gentle, unsuspecting. you did not kiss back—he should’ve asked. oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—“iida. . was all this just so you could. . so you could kiss me?” you let out a laugh that has him retracting his arm from around your shoulders and his face turning to face away. embarrassing. he feels embarrassed. you’re laughing at him, obviously, for how inexperienced he is and how–how horrible this whole thing was!

you move closer to him, place your right hand on his solid, thick left thigh and your left on the right side of his face in order to gently turn his face towards you. you’ve never seen iida this flushed, fucking adorable.

“don’t laugh,” he says.

you grin, “i’m not.” then, you see his eyes move from yours and down to your lips. yours, as they’ve always done, do the same. his are a soft-pink, dusted with the gloss that’d transferred from your lips to his own. he’s pretty, impossibly so, and you smile. “do you want to try that again? promise, i will not laugh.” iida holds out his pinky, you mimick zipping your mouth shut and handing him the key, and you intertwine your pinkies. he takes a deep breath in, he’s very cute when he’s very nervous, and he slowly but surely leans in. he obviously wants to have control of the first kiss in your relationship since it must be an astronomical milestone to him, so you lean in miles slower than him.

somehow, you two old, ancient, aged snails kiss. the two of you kiss, and he fucking melts against you. he hands move upwards from being positioned at his sides like boulders. one cradles your face, the other holds onto your waist. his lips mold against yours, and everything sounds like heaven. the angels are singing, the suns shining out god’s majestical ass, and you’re kissing your hunk of a boyfriend. not just one kiss, not just two kisses, and not even just three! five consecutive kisses. FIVE consecutive kisses! five sweet, soft, kind, gentle, hot, heart-pounding, romantic consecutive kisses.

when iida pulled away, glasses pushed upwards in order for you to not lose an eye, he, nervously, asked: “. . was that okay?”

you responded with a kiss. and then another kiss. and more and more and more and many, many more kisses. your boyfriend is the cutest human known to man—you love him. . you’ll let him have the first ‘i love you’, though. he’s obviously aching to win this little competition.

© vampdes . do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[izzih22]

I hope to wake up to this request 🫰🏾

Any chance you would consider Azzi telling Paige she’s pregnant with their 1st child?

Chapter 1

You’re What?!

Note: yall finally got me to do pazzi moms smh also im sorry it’s short but this was difficult😂

Azzi had been pacing in the kitchen for ten minutes.

Not the anxious kind of pacing the holy crap, how do I tell her this without combusting kind.

The little white box sat on the counter. Wrapped in a UConn onesie that said “Future Husky Coming Soon”, tucked inside a tiny gift bag.

She heard the shower shut off upstairs.

Paige was singing off-key, as usual and Azzi bit down a smile.

It felt like a dream. After six months of IUI attempts, medication, blood draws, failed tests, whispered prayers and late-night cuddles filled with cautious hope… it had finally happened.

She was pregnant.

And Paige, her over-the-top, extra, loving, ridiculous wife, was about to find out.

A few minutes later, Paige came bounding down the stairs, hair wet, skin glowing, still in her towel.

“Why do I smell coffee and secrets?” she asked, narrowing her eyes dramatically. “You’re up early for a Sunday. What’s goin’ on, Fudd?”

Azzi laughed and handed her the bag. “Just… open it.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Is this a trap? Am I gonna get glitter-bombed?”

“Open it,” Azzi said again, breath catching.

Paige rolled her eyes playfully and reached in and the second her fingers touched fabric, her brain caught up. She pulled out the onesie, read it once…

Twice…

Then froze.

Dead silent.

Azzi waited.

Paige’s eyes slowly lifted to meet hers, wide as the moon. “You’re… Azzi.”

Azzi nodded, voice breaking from the grin on her face. “I’m pregnant.”

There was a full beat of stunned silence and then Paige screamed.

Not out of fear. Not even a little.

Pure, unfiltered, bounce-off-the-walls joy.

“YOU’RE PREGNANT? YOU’RE FREAKING PREGNANT!?” Paige launched herself at Azzi, lifting her clean off the ground, spinning her in a circle before pulling her in for the most ridiculous, love-drenched kiss of her life.

Azzi giggled breathlessly. “Babe, I’m literally carrying our child maybe don’t yeet me across the room.”

“RIGHT. YES. SAFE. GENTLE.” Paige immediately set her down like she was made of porcelain. “Okay okay okay, new rules. No heavy lifting. No running. No looking too cute in public where people can stare at you and upset my pregnant wife and unborn child.”

Azzi blinked, laughing. “Those are your top three priorities?”

“Those are just the start,” Paige said, already pacing like she was coaching a championship game. “I’m baby-proofing the house. I’m buying ten pregnancy pillows. We’re getting a new car. I’m googling everything. Everything.”

“You’re spiraling.”

“I’m spiraling in love, Azzi!” Paige shot back, grinning like a kid on Christmas. “You’re having our baby. I get to be a mom with you. Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

Azzi’s eyes softened. “Yeah. I do.”

Paige stopped. She crossed back to her, slower now. Hands cradled Azzi’s waist, her thumbs pressing gently where her flat stomach sat between them.

“That’s our baby in there,” she whispered, awe in her voice. “Like… our baby.”

“I know,” Azzi murmured, leaning into her. “You’re gonna be the best mom.”

Paige’s eyes welled with emotion again, but this time she just laughed through it. “Damn right I am. Starting now.”

She dropped to her knees, pressed a kiss to Azzi’s belly. “Hi, little one. It’s me, the loud one. Your other mom is the smart, calm, pretty one. I’m the one who’s gonna teach you to hoop and embarrass you at school drop-off with music blasting from the car.”

Azzi covered her mouth, overcome.

Paige looked up at her, still grinning. “You feel okay? No nausea?”

“A little,” Azzi admitted. “I’ll probably want a nap soon.”

“Say less.” Paige stood up, kissed her forehead. “You’re not doing a single thing today. Couch. Blankets. Snacks. Netflix. Me worshipping you every thirty seconds.”

“You already do that.”

“Now it’s medically required.”

Azzi rolled her eyes affectionately, letting Paige guide her to the couch, wrapping her up in blankets and fluff like a queen. Paige flopped next to her, curled an arm around her waist, and rested her hand protectively over her stomach.

They sat like that, hearts full, future blooming.

“I love you,” Paige whispered.

“I love you more.”

“Impossible,” Paige said, grinning. “I’m literally in love with two people right now. I’m outnumbering you.”

Azzi laughed, soft and full of joy.

The journey hadn’t been easy. But this moment wild and loud and perfect was worth every second.

[regressionschool]

Take It Away, Please

She sat cross-legged on the nursery carpet, crinkling softly with every slight shift. The pastel-pink onesie strained gently at the snap between her thighs, a telltale droop beneath it giving away just how long she’d been soggy. Her pacifier bobbed lazily as she sucked, half in a daze, but her eyes—those still flickered with something. Something dangerous. Something grown-up.

She hated it.

She reached for the book Daddy had left on the shelf—the last one with real words, not just pictures or sing-songs. The same book she’d once loved, back when she could still be trusted to brush her own hair, pack her own lunch, and keep appointments. Back before Daddy had seen how tired she really was.

She opened it, stared at the black squiggles that still, somehow, meant something to her brain. A whisper of that old, adult self flickered in her chest.

And she panicked.

The book hit the floor with a thud.

“Daddy?” she called, voice soft and syrupy, but shaking.

He stepped into the nursery a moment later, his presence filling the space like warmth from a blanket. Tall. Calm. Always calm.

“What is it, little one?” he asked, already crouching in front of her, brushing a stray curl from her forehead.

She squirmed. Her diaper gave a squish and a rustle. “Daddy…” Her voice trembled. “I don’t wanna read no more.”

He blinked. Slowly. “No more reading?”

She nodded, sucking her paci harder now. “Take it away. Please.” She looked up at him, wide-eyed and desperate. “Like you took my emails. My car keys. My… my big-girl shoes.” Her voice cracked. “I still know what the letters mean, Daddy. They make sense in my head.”

He tilted his head. “But that’s good, isn’t it? My smart little girl.”

“No!” she whined, squirming harder. “It’s bad! It makes me remember. Like… like when I had to get up early… and answer calls… and worry all the time…” Her bottom lip quivered. “Please, Daddy, I don’t wanna remember how to read. It’s not fair. You took everything else. Why not this too?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at her, thoughtful. Then, slowly, he smiled.

“Well, sweetie,” he said gently, “if you want Daddy to take something away, you’ve got to show him you don’t need it anymore. That you’re too little for reading.”

She gulped. She knew what he meant. She’d proven herself before. When he took away her toilet privileges, he’d made her prove she couldn’t hold it anymore. When he boxed up her meal prep planner and gave her sippy cups instead, he’d only done it after she spilled strained peas all down her onesie and cried.

Now?

Now she had to show she was too small for words.

She shifted to her knees, the soggy padding squelching under her. “I can prove it,” she said softly, cheeks pink. “I… I’m way too little.”

She paused. Sucked hard on her paci. And then she stopped trying to hold it.

The mess came with a soft grunt and a blush that bloomed deep and hot across her face. She didn’t look away from Daddy as she filled her diaper. It ballooned out behind her, squishing against her bottom as it sagged.

Her pacifier slipped from her mouth.

“I… I just made a poopy,” she whispered.

“I can see that,” Daddy said, voice low and pleased.

“I didn’t even try to hold it in,” she added, now trembling with relief and humiliation all tangled together. “I didn’t want to. I just… I just wanna be your baby. No thinking. No reading. Nothin’.”

He reached out, cradling her face in his palm. “You did very well, little one. That was a very big baby mess. Just what I needed to see.”

“So…” she sniffled, eyes hopeful. “You’ll take it? My reading?”

He nodded. “I’ll take it away. You don’t need it anymore, do you?”

“No, Daddy,” she said, a little whimper curling her voice. “I really don’t.”

He stood and lifted her with ease, cradling her mushy bottom in one arm and patting it gently as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Say goodbye to books with words,” he cooed. “From now on, it’s lullabies and picture books only.”

She sighed, content in her stinky diaper, melting against him. Her world was small now.

And that was exactly what she wanted.

[dollyfetti]

　𐔌　you love me? ₊˚ ♡

︵︵　notes: bimbo!reader x nerd!bakugou, , valentines drabble, slightly suggestive (reader mentions lingerie), fluffy, katsuki is a little insecure, most of this is unedited, ALSO just bc he goes to the gym doesnt make him a macho man he is still a little dweeb!!!!!!!! ︵︵　word count: 1.4k

you lie sprawled across your pink, plushie-filled bed, while your boyfriend sits at the foot, tying his shoelaces with unhurried precision. mindlessly, your hand strokes your purring kitten as you gaze up at the ceiling, your legs swinging lazily back and forth. “i mean, i would work out, because it's like healthy and whatever,” you say, turning your head to watch as katsuki stands up to grab his headphones from your desk. “but like... it’s just so gross! you get all sweaty, and you have to like... lift super heavy weights.”

"that reminds me," katsuki grumbles to himself, grabbing his key and shoving it into his pocket. "i needa put together that bike fa you."

you hum in confusion, sitting up and pulling princess onto your lap. the tiny kitten meows softly before scampering over to the edge of the bed where katsuki stands. “i dunno how to ride a bike,” you huff, watching as katsuki’s large hand gently rests on the kitten’s back.

he grins lightly, lifting princess into his arms. “it’s a stationary bike, baby. all ya haveta do is sit on it and move your legs.” he scratches princess behind the ears before gently setting her back down and walking toward you.

rising to your knees, you reach for his face, pulling him down for a brief goodbye kiss. he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip before pulling away, playfully squishing your cheeks in his hand. you grin and flop back down onto the bed. “and people say smart people can’t be hot,” you tease, dramatically flinging your hand for emphasis.

"ya, ya, whatever." he tsks in faux annoyance, though he really is a whore for your dumb comments. "don't do anythin stupid while m gone. got it?" he points toward your figure before marching to the door.

you glance up at him upside down, your expression soft and hazy. “yes, sir!” you chirp with a salute, but your acrylics accidentally scratch your forehead, making you shriek.

katsuki grins and shakes his head, stepping out the door, swinging his gym bag over his shoulder.

as soon as the door thuds shut, you're up on your toes, startling your cat in a flurry of excitement. it's valentine's day, and of course, bakugou didn't remember. or maybe he did, and just didn't think it was important. well, you do. you love the cheesy movies and dorky affection that come with the holiday. and you were gonna give your boyfriend the best valentine's ever!!

as his first girlfriend— and hopefully his last— you’re determined to make this day unforgettable. you rush to your closet, pulling out a box of decorations you’ve carefully chosen. dropping to your knees, you pull out heart-shaped streamers and fake rose petals, your face lighting up as you shout at alexa to play a romantic playlist. by the time you’ve hung everything and scattered the last petal into place, you suddenly remember the candle you lit earlier to set the mood. gasping, you blow it out and look around, wondering if the sweet scent is really that essential. yeah..! no biggie.

“okay…” you whisper to yourself, surveying the transformed apartment. glitter and flowers fill every corner. you had also bought a seductive red lingerie set, but when should you wear it? well, you should put it on now, but you don’t want to ruin the ambiance with your impatience. and all your hard work would get ruined! maybe after taking some pictures...

as you stand there, trying to use your brain for once, the sound of a key turning in the door lock startles you. you spin around, wide-eyed. you weren't expecting him back until later!

"I'M NOT READY!" you shout, peering down at your messy appearance. but bakugou's already inside, his eyes widening at the unexpected apartment makeover.

he freezes for a moment, his bag hitting the floor with a soft thump. his fingers run through his sweaty hair as he takes in your eager, pouty face. you shuffle toward him, wringing your hands nervously. “you weren’t supposed to see it yet…!”

he chuckles, pushing up his glasses before kissing your head, still taking in the sight around him. "i text you earlier when you were at the store sayin i was only gonna be an hour. you didn' see?"

you look up, pausing to recall... nope, nothin!

"ohh." you hum. you rub your lips together before spreading your arms out wide. "well, happy valentine's day!!"

katsuki's almost- awkward? he nods, tapping his fingers against his leg. it's like he's unsure of how to respond. he exhales, quickly swooping in to peck your cheek before heading into the kitchen.

you blink at the spot where he was just standing, confusion flooding your chest. what's wrong with him??? you spin around slowly, watching him pull a glass out of the cupboard. you tiptoe after him, cautious as if he'll run away if you move too fast. "do you... not like it?" you ask softly, your eyebrows bent in uncertainty.

without turning around, he pours himself a glass of water. “uh, yeah, i do,” he mutters, taking a sip while his crimson eyes remain fixed on the floor. the silence stretches between you, heavy and awkward. it’s the complete opposite of the atmosphere you were hoping for. a lump forms in your throat, and you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for something, anything, to break the tension.

his gaze lifts, catching your troubled expression. with a grunt, he places his glass down and strides toward you. his hands find your cheeks, rough yet gentle as he holds your face in his palms, humming quietly at the softness of your skin.

"i do like it." he mutters, swiping a tear that had just fallen from your eye. "s nice."

your pout deepens, dropping your head onto his chest. "did it cuz i love you and i thought you'd be more excited..."

all of the air in katsuki's body suddenly leaves him.

his heart patters against his chest, louder than it ever has before. time slows down as the words you said too casually hang in the air between you. in your head, it's obvious you both love each other. you've been together for over a year, and you make it known every day how much you adore katsuki bakugou. but for some reason, you've never said it until today. maybe it's because you're trying to make him feel better or maybe you're just an idiot who doesn't understand the weight of what you just uttered.

love. does he love you? probably. is he smart enough to actually form the words, look into your eyes, and offer a piece of himself in return? maybe. or maybe not. katsuki bakugou deems himself as the smartest. but in this moment, with your body against his, for the first time in forever, he feels dumb.

hesitantly, he pulls back, meeting your teary gaze with his own. his breath catches, and his lips suddenly yearn for yours. his breath hitches in his throat. “you… love me?” he blurts out, his voice tinged with disbelief.

you blink, tilting your head to the side in confusion. “…yeah?” you smile, as if it’s obvious— because it is.

"oh." katsuki breathes out with a nod, his face flushing slightly. "that's cool." he mutters, yknow, like a moron.

but you already know. you don't need to hear it from him. why would you? he shows you every day too. in little ways, like how he knows exactly how to make your coffee or how he melts into you whenever he's overwhelmed. you're not too smart, "not the sharpest lightbulb in the shed", as you say. but you're not blind. you silently hear, "i love you. i need you." from katsuki in every moment you spend together. and that's enough.

you nod with a dorky grin spreading across your lips. "ya." you giggle, watching him visibly relax. you hum, leaning closer to the man to inhale his scent. "i was gonna put on a little show for you when you got home..."

katsuki smirks, raising a brow. "well, go on then. don't keep me waiting long." his hand reaches for the back of your head, pulling your forehead against his lips, leaving a loud smooch against the skin. you smile toothily, skipping into the bedroom.

the blond sighs dreamily, looking around the apartment. maybe it's about time you two move in together.

♡ ‿‿🍭 taglist @coldember

[herstarburststories]

The Cage (Joe Goldberg x Reader)

Pairing: Joe Goldberg x reader

Summary: Joe puts you in the cage after you've seen him in an incriminating situation. He comes back to check on you, and ends up facing a pleasurable situation: you, masturbating in the cage.

Warnings: masturbation, kidnapping, sexual thoughts, smut, unhealthy behavior. It's YOU, ya know what to expect.

A/N: My 1st YOU story! It had to be messed up smut. No specific season here.Please reblog and comment. Hope you guys like it!

You used to have a bird when you were younger.

A parrot. His bright colors seemed to speak under the sunlight when he landed next to you. His wing looked funny, what was later discovered to be broken. That small detail was the perfect excuse to convince you dad to keep the bird.

You named Jorge and took him home.

Jorge was so little, so helpless.

You never put him in a cage, even when your dad brought one because housebirds are meant to be caged, or so he said. — which wasn't much of a surprised. He thought the same about your mom or any housewives. Their cage was just different.

But, you didn't let him get his way. You stomped your feet and threw the prison away. Birds were supposed to be free.

Plus, you related to Jorge in that sense. Everyone, the whole planet seemed to believe that women should be put in cages, in boxes, in any place that could contain them, patronize them. Because the patriarchal cry babies thought that they were too savage, too emotional. A danger to society.

Those people never seem to notice that every single disaster was orchestrated by men's hands.

Colonization, religious intolerance, wars, pseudo prophets, and so it goes.

Anyway, you didn't let the tiny bird get caged, and asked him to promise to take you and fly you away if someone ever tried to do that to you.

It may seem childish, irrational even, but you can't help looking around and hoping Jorge would appear and save you from the cage.

Joe's cage.

Alright, yes. You had many feminist criticism towards how men attempted to force women into fitting their irralistic, many times porn guided caged vision of feminiality. But this wasn't what you mean by that!

Joe Goldberg had a fucking cage! And you were in there: trapped like a hopeless animal.

What did he plan to do with you? Were you going to die? How long would he leave you there without food or water? How were you going to do your basic needs? How would you survive this?

''How did I end up here?" you asked your reflection on the glass. ''You know how, idiot.''

You groaned, hitting the wall in frustration. It wasn't your fault, you knew it. The old cliché, wrong person at the wrong place during the wrong time, all the wrongs in the world wrapped in a pretty lace. Although, the guilty for not knowing better held you tight, it was like you couldn't even breathe.

You needed some relief.

Joe's POV

He sighed, unlocking the door with his free hand whilst holding your meal with the other one. Joe closed his eyes as the door opened with a loud noise, preparing himself to hear your scream and shout. He didn't want to do that! Not to you at least. Joe just wanted to take care of you, to make you see him how he saw you: entirely.

But really, what else could he have done? You saw him with blood on his shirt and a huge bag.

When the man didn't hear your voice, he opened her eyes and arched his eyebrows.

Maybe you understood why I had to do this, Y/N. Always knew you were different, my love.

Joe locked the door again and kept the keys in his pocket, taking the stairs to meet you.

Or, I could be wrong and you could've managed to get out of the cage and be just there, waiting to attack me. You're smart, I wouldn't put it past you.

The closer he gets, the quiet it sounds. The only music is the own stairs crackling under his steps.

But, you know me, Y/N. I'm a true hopeless romantic. What can I say? I still believe. I believe in us. And you'll too, baby.

And then, just like the first flicker of dawn, he heard the most beautiful song coming out of your mouth, a melody that could put Beethoven to shame.

Wait. Are you? Y/N, are you moaning?

He walked faster towards you until he saw a blissful scene unrolling right in front of his eyes: you, laying in the mattress that he put in there, your eyes shut and legs spread open.

Is this a little show you are putting out for me? Well, you got all my attention now, Y/N.

He placed the food on the floor, captivated by the look on your face. There was pleasure in every corner of the cage, your whiny moans increasing as you rubbed your clit.

This what happens when I leave you alone, Y/N?

Your other hands is also occupied, teasing your nipple and squeezing your boob as a finger enters your wet pussy. So needy, pace increasing at each second.

Fuck. You look so hot. I want to get in there, take care of you, touch you, make love to you.

Already used to living in delusion, Joe easily loses his mind in the fantasy: picturing himself in there with you, memorizing your body, fucking you open, hearing your moans directed to him, coming inside you.

You just needed a way to ease your racing mind. There were too many questions, too many deep high fears. Everything was too much in this small place. Similar to animals in cages that go crazy in attempts to get out there and run back to nature. You didn't want to go this far, not to touch you in here as it's a sort of motel and not a hostage situation. Still, masturbation was very proficient to blow off some esteem and get you thinking straight.

Extreme situations call for extrame measures.

Nonethless, you didn't expect to open your eyes to see Joe, also masturbating in front of you.

There's no denying that you that you used to find Joe attractive. Tall, strong jaw, pretty smile, gentle, and dark hair. You thought that this perspective had gone away once he knocked you out with some drug in napkin and you woke up here.

Apparently, it didn't. Not even when he left you there during hours because now he came back.

And he's glancing at you, his hand moving up and down on his erected length.

How long was he there?

Doesn't matter.

A moan escapes at the sight. His hard cock with precum on the tip, while he thrusts in his tight hold and glares at you like he could eat your soul.

You don't doubt that.

There's more than just excitement, there's horror and danger and woe and fear and anxiety laced together in burning red. You want to scream at him in both anger and need, but right now you add another finger to your core, fucking yourself as he tries to get his own liberation. Yearning, yearning.

When Joe howls your name, you can't help but to cum as you glance into his eyes with no shame, too caught up to do anything but to get turned on.

He comes right after you.

His twisted mind whispers that's the most romantic act.

[goorgeousz]

lacy dreams | aaron hotchner

after hours au

lacy dreams | aaron hotchner

after hours au

18+ MDNI

pairing: aaron hotchner x profiler!female!reader

summary: hotch had been managing to do just fine in suppressing his desire for you, until he caught a glimpse of your lacy underwear peeking over your jeans.

content/tw: perv!hotch, masturbation (male), dirty thoughts, wet dreams, reader has the ass and tanned skin (I try my best not to describe the reader's physics but I just had to be a little self-indulgent on this one, sorry…) 

word count: 2.5k

a/n: again, I attempted to focus on the steamy part of this but I got too invested on the build-up. I liked this one more than I thought, hope you guys do it too <3

my requests are opened, for this series or not!

just a heads up, this series is a slow burn so it will take a while for them to be together. I'm focusing more on the build up, their relationship and the construction of it! so if you want to have requests involving any of that, I'll be happy to write it! I have at least ten drafts in the making for this series, I'm super excited!

after hours masterlist

main masterlist

Between dealing with serial killers, terrorists and, maybe the hardest, FBI bureaucracy, Hotch almost didn’t have time to think about you.

Key word: almost.

The unit chief of the behaviour analysis unit. Hotch deserved that title, he knew it. He was perfect for it. Not everyone is able to fully commit to the job. To lock their feelings into a tiny little black box and keep it hidden. To be entirely selfless, to give themselves – their soul, mind and heart – to the job. To abdicate free time, good rest, personal relationships. No one understands what it takes to be the B.A.U. unit chief. 

Unless, of course, THE B.A.U. unit chief.

No one in their right minds would ever doubt Hotch was perfect for it.

He was kind, respectful, smart, attentive, giving, centrate and ready to give it all for the job. The things he’d gone through… it wasn’t for the weak. But he wasn’t. So he took it. Silently, proudly and steadily. Like a knight, a fighter.

But Hotch was also a man. He ate, he drank, he slept. He had a soul, a heart, a brain. And he had memories. Good memories. Precise, even. And despite being incredibly professional, he still remembered.

Every. Thing.

It was a blessing and a curse.

Every time you stretched, your shirt slightly rose up, showing the skin of your stomach, and he remembered how he licked and kissed that very same part. Or when you laid on your side on the jet, he remembered how he fucked you at that very same position the morning after your night together – and before your first day at the B.A.U. Or whenever you get a papercut because you went through your files too eagerly, and you let out the tiniest, most delicate and breathless sound, and he has to fight every cell on his body not to lean closer and beg you to say it again.

Point is: he remembered.

It wasn’t like he had an eidetic memory – poor Spencer – or anything, but it was hard not to replay that night in his head from time to time. Whenever he had time for it. Or whenever images of you invaded his thoughts, uninvited and demanding. Ruining him, piece by piece.

He didn’t let it show, though. It was harder at first, when you and him were still on thin ice. Poking the water with the tip of your feet to see if it was safe enough to dive in. Not knowing each other's boundaries, wanting, needs. Only one thing for certain: you wouldn’t let that get between your job. Surprisingly, it worked just fine.

You were an amazing addiction to the team, and he was proud to see how good of an agent you turned out to be. Your relationship was strictly professional – unless the filthy thoughts inside his head, but those didn’t count –, even the team started laying off of you two.

Hotch, ever the profiler, noticed how they whispered around, throwing glances at each other and winking here and there. He knew they wondered. He also knew neither of you would give it to them. So they waited. And waited. And when nothing happened, they waited a little more. He was a little smug to see their frustrations, honestly. He beat those odds, surprisingly – again, how he felt about you didn’t count. And eventually, thankfully, they laid off of you. Maybe they gave up, accepted defeat. Giving up didn't fit their profile, but well, he’ll take it!

He was good at suppressing his emotions. A professional, if you will. He even managed to look at you in the eyes with a straight face and discuss about disposal of bodies while thinking about bending you over and fucking you right on the top of the table you were tapping your sharp nails against.

It was a whole other job to contain his thoughts when he was home – whatever he did in the privacy of his own bedroom was his business only. But for now, he was handling just fine.

In some ways you helped him. Despite whatever went through your mind, you never gave him the satisfaction of a reaction. Not even a blush, a stutter, a lingering touch… Nothing. Ever. Every fantasy he had with you was solely the work of his bright and evil mind.

So, long story short, Hotch was kind of a pervert.

Secretly.

With all that said, there was one time Hotch absolutely lost it.

At least as much as someone like Hotch could lose it.

It was a Tuesday morning. The team sat together after a morning briefing, still chatting around. He was deep in conversation with Spencer when he heard Morgan’s teasing.

“So, where is it?” 

You frowned “Where what is?”

Emily and Morgan exchanged a smile “You’re always wearing a red item somewhere” she explained “Today you’re all in charcoal grey.” 

Hotch had noticed it, obviously. From the moment you walked in, a quick inspection of you later and he noticed it. He thought you’d just forgotten it. So much for his profiling skills. He wouldn’t dare to point it out, though. He had boundaries. 

You laughed “You guys take the job that seriously, huh?” 

“They even bet on you” JJ snickered, chuckling. You gasped, faking surprise.

“I’m winning.” Garcia sing-song it “Maybe you should rethink their profiling skills, sir.” she told Hotch, in a mock serious tone.

“Wow. I’ll have to step up my game, then.”

“Come on, doll.” Morgan nudges your hand with the tip of his pen “Where’s the red? Ten dollars at stake today.” you laughed loudly, leaning closer to him.

“Trust me, the money would be the smallest of your winnings if you knew where the red is.” you whispered, loud enough for the whole team to hear.

JJ barked a laugh, walking past you to go grab herself a coffee and giving you a high-five in the process.

Hotch watched it all unfold without a word. He even managed to change the subject after that rather smoothly. No one would have guessed what was going through his mind while he explained statistics and budgets. He didn’t blush, didn’t stutter, didn’t let his eyes wander.

He was a gentleman, afterall.

But when the meeting ended, all the team standing and heading out the door all together, you were right in front of him.

He stayed a few steps back behind you, more to his own safety than to yours. So he witnessed what happened in slow motion — at least that’s how his mind played it.

You were laughing at something Derek said, smacking his shoulder and letting your hair clip fall in the process. With your quick instincts and — good god — your easy flexibility, you bent over to pick it up.

And that’s when it happened.

He wasn’t looking, you see. Blame it on his academy years, his school-soccer years even. His unit chief abilities™, if you will.

It was just like in the field, his senses had to be turned to a maximum to see any possible threats. And that for sure was a hell of a threat.

As you bent over, knees bending just slightly, the rem of your button-up rose up. Simultaneously, the waistband of your pants slide down an inch, to cover the — voluptuous and perfectly round, bless you — curve of your ass.

Then, he saw it. The flash of red blinding his sight like in a lighthouse. Exactly like a gun pointed at him in his peripheral vision, his eye darted to the flash of red in order to eliminate the danger. He was trained for this, he couldn’t just turn off his spider-senses federal-agent-senses.

Peeking over your pants there was a thin, lacy and beautiful red underwear. The exact same kind you wore that night. Not the same, no.

Again, not an eidetic memory – god bless reid – but no matter how hard he tried – not that hard, really – to forget, he couldn’t. His stubborn mind insisted on replaying the view of your bare ass, covered only in those dark-red lacy panties, pushing back against his very expensive suit pants, teasing his hard on still very much covered. A sinful view, your toned body displayed for him across your wooden dining table like a four-course meal. Better than that, honestly.

Back to the subject, the colours were different. This one was a brighter shade of red, its colour very distinguishing from the sober grey of your clothes. So beautiful, calling for him. Begging for him, really. It was a siren’s song, enchanting him and luring his eyes into you. Deadly, dangerous.

As fast as it came, it was gone. You stood back up with an ease that made his backbone jealous. Unfortunately, not fast enough for the sight not to be engraved in his brain.

He stopped mid track, his eyes widening slightly. Thankfully, he was the last one behind, so no one could see his reaction. Not-so-thankfully, you turned around at him, a polite but cheerful expression on your face, the remains of your laughter still on your face.

“Hotch, the file of that Minnesota case I was working on is already on your desk. I left it there before the meeting, forgot to tell you.” the easy smile you had on your face faltered for just a second, confused by the stunned look on his face.

He quickly covered it up, building his walls back up in a record-deserving speed “No problem, thank you.”.

You just nodded, seeing he walk away in that always-hurried way of his before you could manage to ask him what’s wrong.

And just like that, his facade was ruined – it wasn’t really. No one bat an eye at him or his reaction, but he did try to fool himself and pretend he didn’t care. And that facade was, in fact, ruined.

A four-months, twenty three days – the exact time you’ve been on the team – streak of being reactionless vanished with a quick glimpse of your underwear.

How pathetic of him.

How twelve-year-old-boy-just-discovered-women's-breast kind of pathetic of him.

It wasn’t just about how his heartbeat quickened at the sight. Just how the blood rushed to his veins. Just how his eyes widened and his mouth slightly parted. Just how his breath hitched loudly enough that if someone were behind him, they would’ve noticed it.

It was all that, added to the fact that he had to basically lock himself in his office all day. Two bathroom breaks. One coffee break. One lunch break. All of them combined, in order to reduce his breaks at a minimum.

He got work done, somehow. It took him the entire work-day for him to finish what would’ve taken him a single morning? Yes. But it got done, anyway.

His thoughts mid reports wandered towards you. Did you do it on purpose? Of course not, he was that self-assured. But you were a tease, so it was very on character for you. But you seemed so innocent, telling him about your reports. Again, that never stopped you from making the dirtiest jokes he ever heard. Was it all a punishment? Some destiny cruel joke on him? A way for the universe to tell him he doesn’t have control of anything? It seemed like all the options above.

The day passed in a rush, humiliating so.

Deciding – after a lot of guilt and self-deprecating thoughts – he wasn’t being any useful for the country and it was best for him to rest and come back renewed – read free of dirty thoughts of you – the next day, he went home.

His ride home was silent, he didn’t even turn on the radio. Or did he? It didn’t even register. It was a win how he managed to get home safe without causing any accidents in the process.

He ate a quick dinner, an improvised sandwich of everything he could find in his fridge. And finally had the – oh so deserved and waited – glass of scotch. And a second one. And a third one.

After finally having his gain back the control of his own thoughts, because of the shameful amount of work he’d done, he decided to ignore the very prominent and aching volume on his pants. Yes he was that controlling.

So, he took a freezing shower and went back to bed without a single thought of you.

Yes, he was proud of himself.

No, it didn’t last.

It was 02:17 in the morning when he woke up from the most wonderful yet terrible dream of his life, with an aching boner and a stain of cum in his underwear. How lovely.

He opened his eyes and stood there, his chest rising and falling while he tried to steady his breaths. He came to the realization that whatever happened was just a dream. A very wet dream.

You haven’t actually showed up at his house, still in your work clothes. You haven’t really thrown yourself in his arms, kissing him so hungrily he almost fell down. You haven’t really taken your clothes off, your eyes locked in his while you stripped down until you were only in those red lacy panties. You haven’t really laid down on his bed, your legs stretched and your hands touching your perky breasts. He haven’t really fucked you senselles, raw and stupid on his mattress – yes, that very same mattress he was currently laid on – until you both came at the same time while you moaned his name over and over. His first name.

He replayed the dream in his mind, groaning to himself when his hand unconsciously roamed to his shaft, gripping straight under his sweatpant.

It was no use to fight against it. He let himself have it.

Hotch squeezed himself, his cock sticky with barely wet and warm cum. He hummed, half in annoyment, half in satisfaction.

He stroked himself to the thought of you. His dream wasn’t real. But the images of you, the sensation of his cock buried deep inside of you, his names on your lips like a mantra, like a spell. They were all real, all memories.

And he held on to them for dear life.

The feeling of his tight grip to your flesh. Your yelps, moans, hums, groans. Your dirty words, your dirty mind. Your velvety and hoarse voice. Your eyes – oh, your eyes. So beautiful, slightly open, deeply darked and overly glossed. The tear of pleasure that fell after you came for the third time, its salty taste on his tongue when he licked it. Your mouth. Full, glossy and tasteful. Your tanned and smooth skin, little red sports he proudly bruised.

He quickened his movements, his eyes closed shut and images of you behind his eyelids. He memorized all of you. And with the sound of his own heartbeat and the memory of your voice hoarsely begging his name, he came again, letting out a long and dragged groan.

He stayed there for a while, waiting for his breath to get back to normal and his heartbeat to slow down.

Just for a moment he let himself be, not drowning it sorry and guilt. Just enjoying the relief coursing through his body.

But like almost everything in life, the moment passed.

Almost.

[enwoso]

in her words | alessia russo x child!reader

-> based on this request

grumpy masterlist

the training pitch was quieting down as the sun dipped lower in north london, streaking a warm light across the grass. alessia was tackling you from the pitch as you giggled thinking it was all just a game of chase.

mariona and a few other girls walking along the side with wide smiles as they wiped the sweat from their foreheads. mariona, the new summer signing taking in the familiar ache of a good session.

it was only her first week at arsenal and everything for her still felt slightly off-balance. the football? great. the people? lovely. the language?

yeah, that was were things got… complicated for mariona.

the spaniard was sat pulling her boots off when she saw alessia approaching from the side gate, wearing the usual training kit and a soft smile. your tiny figure trotting beside her in glittery trainers and a well-loved pink hoodie two sizes too big.

mariona stood, curious. she hadn’t met you before today but already from hearing the stories from the others, the spaniard knew one thing was for sure, you were a bundle of energy.

“hey,” alessia greeted, shifting her bag on her shoulder, “someone has been waiting to meet you.”

you slowed as you reached mariona who was still sat on the bench, your eyes wide and filled with a shy curiosity. you tucking half your face behind alessia’s leg as you clutched a juice box in one hand and your floppy elephant plush in the other.

"this is y/n," alessia said gently, nudging her forward. "my daughter."

mariona smiled, crouching down instinctively. "hola, y/n. nice to finally meet you."

your eyes grew even bigger. "you were on the telly! you lifted that big cup with auntie lucy and kei" you blurted suddenly. "you kick the ball and then it went swish and everyone shouted and mummy said you run like zooooom—!"

mariona blinked. she caught telly, ball, and zoom, lucy but everything else was a whirl of tiny, rapid of english that sounded like a different language entirely.

"i… lo siento," mariona said with a nervous laugh, looking up at alessia. "she speak very fast. i don't understand all."

alessia bit back a grin. "it’s okay—she does that to everyone. she said she saw you on tv with her auntie lucy and keira and you're really fast."

"ah si!" mariona nodded, relieved. "okay. gracias."

you, undeterred, took a bold step closer and pointed at the spaniard. "you’re super mario!" you declared proudly.

mariona froze. "perdón... i am... what?"

"super mario!" you repeated with even more emphasis, like mariona was just being slow and not that fact she couldn’t understand your little london accent.

mariona looked up at alessia helplessly. "she call me mario?"

alessia laughed softly. "she thinks she saying your name, but it's a bit tricky for her. so... she's calling you super mario."

"super?... like the game?" mariona’s brows knit together in confusion.

"yep. you’re fast, you kick things, and apparently you 'save the day.' so in her four-year-old brain, that makes you super mario."

mariona blinked again, then let out a soft laugh. "i like this logic."

you nodded, pleased. "you can have a red hat if you want."

"i don't have one," mariona said, still crouched low, "but maybe you draw for me?"

you grinned, an excited smile appearing on your lips. "i will! with sparkles, lots of sparkles."

mariona turned back to alessia, eyes warm. "she is very smart. and eh creative."

"she is also going to be insufferable about this now and i’m going to be finding sparkles all over my house now," alessia sighed, though she looked more proud than anything.

mariona looked back at you, holding her hand out for you to high five. "okay, pequeña. super mario it is." you beamed like you’d just made the most important decision in the world.

[thedevilsoftruth]

♡ •Bedtime Story •♡

B. Barnes x afab reader

Summary: Bucky comes back home to his family after a few weeks of being stuck in another state for his work for congress.

Tags: ( 5k+ words ) heavy smut! Small Sam Wilson cameo at the veeerrry end of this fic. Bucky's terrible pregnancy kink, dilf bucky?, established ( married ) relationship, very vulgar language, cunnilingus, Bucky being a smart ass, dirty talking, piv sex, mentions of postpartum ( reader is still in her postpartum phase, ) vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, reader is very touch sensitive and touch starved, not beta read!

Thought this was a cute concept, and also I'm getting very close to my ovulation period, and I need this man to do very bad things to me or else I'll die. Goodnight.

[ My marvel request box is back open. Please see my pinned post for my request rules. ]

Mdni! I am not responsible for what you find on the internet.

The front door opened with a soft click.

The warm air from the house welcomed Bucky as he walked inside quietly, shutting the door behind him. His coat was drenched from the rain, his body shivering underneath it. He kicked off his shoes and set them by the door, taking off his coat and then setting it down in the coat rack.

He set his keys down on the accent table next to the door with a heavy sigh.

It was almost one in the morning. He knew you probably wouldn't be awake, and he felt bad for not texting you. But not really; he wanted it to be a surprise.

He would worry about his things in the car when the morning came. For now, all he wanted was to see his wife.

The living room was cluttered with childrens toys, and he almost stepped on a little car as he made his way down the hallway. There were blankets tossed lazily on the couch, torn up dog toys scattered across the dining room--and weirdly inside the kitchen.

He noticed your brothers car outside. He kind of figured you'd have him over as you were dealing with both a feisty toddler girl and a baby boy.

Bucky had felt bad for leaving you for so long, but the both of you knew how important his work was to him. Still, that did not take away his longing for you.

He made his way past the army of toys on the floor and towards the stairs, which where baby proofed with a little gate. He unlocked it, closed it behind him, then excitedly rushed up the stairs. He couldn't wait to see you.

He opened the bedroom door quietly. He immediately noticed that the lights were on in the bathroom, and that the bed was empty as he stepped in. He closed the door behind him and made his way into the bathroom.

It didn't take long for you to notice him. You turned to face him mid way through screwing a box of chocolate covered almonds shut. You had a few in your hands, and you had a little bit of chocolate on your face.

You didn't look the most appealing in that moment. Your hair was incredibly messy in a bun at the top of your head. Only a few strands were actually inside the scrunchie, the rest of your hair spilling out chaotically around your face. You wore a robe around your body and sweatpants.

He couldn't stop the wide smile that was spreading across his face. He didn't look that great either. His hair was getting long again and so was his facial hair.

And he kind of stood there for a moment, just watching you watching him.

" Hi, " he finally cracked, his eyes crinkling as he smiled foolishly. You looked back, stuffing an almond in your face.

" You're home. " You commented, trying to finish your chocolate before you could get excited.

" Sure am. " He said, his eyes falling onto the baby monitor on the countertop. His smile never once dropped as he looked at your little baby boy shift in his crib in the nursery.

Suddenly, Bucky throws his arms around you and inhales your scent.

" How's the mama doing? " He asked you, swaying you side to side in his arms. He missed you so much. He hated being away from you, especially in the state that you were in. Even though he knew you said you were fine with being alone, it hadn't been too long since you last gave birth. He knew it'd slowly drive you mad over time.

" Just tired. " You told him, running your hand on his forearm. He smiled, kissing your jaw sweetly.

" I would imagine. " He spoke, turning you around to face him. He cupped your face and soothingly ran his thumbs on your cheeks. You hummed, practically melting into his touch. You both missed eachother so much. It felt like forever since you had been in each other's arms.

You could just stare at eachother for hours. Or just simply be next to each other and enjoy the silence between you too. And that was what made you love Bucky so much; he didn't take up all your social energy but he didn't take away from it either. The silence was never awkward for the both of you.

He took your hand in his, kissing your knuckles sweetly. He kept your hand in his as he rocked you in his loving embrace. Him being home and safe was the best thing you could have heard after the stressful week you had been having.

" I'm sorry I had to leave you here for so long. " He apologized, a sad look falling upon his handsome face. You managed a weak smile, rubbing your thumb over his.

" Something something congressman stuff. " You grinned, naturally this time. Bucky chuckled, running his vibranium hand up and down your back.

" Yeah, something like that. " He muttered, leaning in for a kiss. You stood on your toes slightly, craning your neck back as he bent down to kiss you. You hummed softly against his lips as they moved against yours, pecking at them, warm and wet. You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, and a pleasurable moan escaped from his mouth. His vibranium hand on your back moved to the back of your head for support, his flesh hand moving to your check as your arms snaked around his neck. Then, Bucky being Bucky, decided to mess with you and bit your lip playfully. You gasped and hit his chest jokingly, pulling away from the kiss.

" I missed you. " He said, chuckling. You squinted your eyes at him, pursing your lips. And he had this big grin on his face that you wanted to punch and kiss at the same time. Your hand stilled at his chest, your palm opening slightly right where his dog tags hung loose. Once the laughter subsided, there was a slight tinge of bittersweet desire hanging in the air, and the two of you just kind of stared at eachother for a moment.

" I missed you too. " You responded, a light blush spreading across your cheeks. He missed your blush, missed your smile, missed you--his wife--all in general. He placed his flesh hand on your cheek, and leaned in to kiss you again. You could feel the cold metal of his wedding ring against your warm cheek, and that made you smile against his lips.

His kissed trailed off, from your lips to your blushing cheek, his hand moving down to the side of your neck. You moaned softly, his lips latching onto that little spot on your neck he knew you were super sensitive to.

Your fingers curled around his dog tags through his shirt. His hands dropped to your hips, his lips sweeping across the soft, sensitive skin on your neck sweetly. You pushed back your hair, giving him more access to you. He hummed in response, his tongue darting out between his lips to lick and suck on your skin gently. A little whimper left your mouth as he did so.

" Mm... That feel good, sugar? " He inquired in your ear, his warm breath fanning over your neck. You whimpered in response, your stomach filling with butterflies at his words. He placed hot, rough, open-mouthed missed between the crook of your neck, to the side of it, and making your head spin with the desire that was quickly becoming evident in your pants.

" Bucky, " you whispered, the tags under his shirt clinking together softly under your grip on them. His hair was damp from the rain. He felt like he was making you slightly uncomfortable with how cold and wet he was.

" Hmm? " He hummed. His hand came down between your legs, making you shiver under his touch. He cupped your sex roughly, bringing your body up and forward slightly as he did so. You gasped, your grip on his tags getting tighter.

" You're kinda wet... " You commented, running your hand down the sleeve of his rain-stained shirt. He chuckled, the sound rich and rumbling deep from within his chest.

" So are you. " He said with that cocky, boyish grin you loved so much as he pulled away from your neck. You bit your lip, knowing full well he was right. His large hand squeezed around your center, massaging it through your sweatpants gently.

" Hey, I know you just gave birth 3 months ago, but you wouldn't mind having baby number 3, right? " Bucky joked, though nothing about that joke was funny to you. Your smiled dropped and you scoffed at him.

" Ha. You're funny. " You told him, putting one hand on your hip and giving him ' the mom look. ' That grin on his face never left.

" Come on, gorgeous. You know I'm just playing. " Your " real funny " husband reassured you, leaning back down to give you yet another kiss. But you returned it so quickly, kissing him back with the same hunger he gave you. Your hand went down to his stomach, the familiar feeling of his abs under your palm bringing you back to your pre-marital stages. Before you begun running after your messy children who wouldn't eat their dinner like a headless chicken. You smiled at the idea, and by the sigh he left against your lips, you could tell he was thinking the same. (....or maybe the chili cheese dog he probably had for lunch. )

" Come here, " he grunted, wrapping his arms around your thighs and picking you up and making you squeal. " I'm taking you to bed. "

His lips stayed on yours all the way through. He walked out of the en suite bathroom in your bedroom and gently dropped you down onto the bed. Your body softly bounced on mattress as you were laid down.

Bucky quickly ripped off his coat before he joined you in bed. He crawled over your body, locking eyes with you as he moved himself between your legs. You took out the scrunchie in your hair, shaking your head to get it out of it's place as a very bad bun on your head.

It had been a very long time since you last had sex with him. Maybe it went as back as your second trimester, but it had been so long that you couldn't even remember when it was.

His lips found yours once more in a steering kiss that took your breath away. His hands went to the belt of your robe, working to untie it while his tongue was too busy trying to sword fight with yours--or whatever it was doing.

Bucky slowly opened your robe to his hungry gaze, pulling away from your lips to run his hand down your stomach with his vibranium hand, making you shiver. You were topless under the robe, now half naked and exposed in front of him. He gulped hard, his Adams apple bobbling as he did so.

" Oh, baby... " He whispered, eyeing you up and down. God he missed your body so much. His hands ran down your sides, stopping at your hips. He thought of the two times he had gotten you pregnant, how lucky he was to have you and his two between children. Thoughts of the nights where you had been trying for Steve--your youngest, flooded his mind. And honestly he was getting a little bit harder just thinking about it.

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and sweatpants. He looked you in the eyes and smiled.

" Lift up for me, pretty girl. " He instructed, watching as your hips moved the second he asked you to move them. With your hips lifted in the air, he could easily roll your sweatpants down your legs.

You were getting butterflies so hard. He was so sweet and gentle with you as he leisurely discarded the rest of your clothes. It was so different compared to the crazy amounts of hard sex he had with you in the beginning stages of your relationship. This felt real to you. This felt like love to you.

Once you were completely undressed, Bucky couldn't help but just stare at you. You were so beautiful; every inch of you was like a work of art. His hands ran up and down your soft, plump thighs, squeezing them gently. His eyes raked up and down your body. He felt like your beauty was knocking him dizzy.

" You, " he breathed, picking up your leg by the arch of your foot, kissing your calf. His eye were heavy lidded as he looked at you. " Are so beautiful. "

His lips trailed from your calf to the inside of your thigh, dragging them slowly across your skin, making you shiver. And maybe, for a moment, you were actually considering baby number 3.

Bucky knew sure as hell that he was. He loved his little demons and would never turn you down if you asked him for another. Maybe you'd let him in the future, after all, you had just gotten out of postpartum.

His flesh hand ran down your leg before stopping between your thighs. He set his palm on your pelvic bone, his thumb coming in contact with your aching clit. Your body shook, and he smirked at your reaction and at how desperate you seemed.

" Poor baby, "he cooed, kissing your inner thigh before rising up to kiss your lips. His thick two middle fingers ran down your slit, your slick coating his fingers.

" You were probably so touch-starved without me here, hm? "

You mewled loudly as his thumb went back on your clit. The tip of his middle finger traced your entrance teasingly, driving you crazy. His touch on your clit was feather-like, barley even there.

" Bucky... " You whined, your hips arching into his hand, seeking more friction. He chuckled darkly at your reaction to his touch.

" Hm? Something you need, sugar? " He asked you in that familiar cocky time you were way too used to. You wanted to punch him so bad. He knew exactly what he was doing.

" Fuck you. " You spoke through gritted teeth in spite. Bucky gave you a fake pout.

" Is that the way you talk to your husband? " His hands withdrew from your core, making you feel empty even though they were barley there in the first place. " I guess you don't want me to touch you then, no? "

"No-no! I want you to touch me. " You practically begged, trying to open your legs more to provoke him. He grinned.

" Oh yeah? You want me to? ''

Little shit was trying to make you beg.

And it was working.

" Please, Bucky. " You whimpered, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt as you looked at him pleadingly. How could he ever say no to you like that? He smiled, finally giving in. He wasn't going to tease you for very long because he knew how much you needed him.

" Okay, I'm sorry. " He apologized with a tooth grin, running his flesh hand back down between your legs. The second his hand came in contact with your aching core, you immediately felt relief wash over your body. His fingers drifted up and down your little clit, petting it almost. Your eyes rolled back, your back lifting off of bed. Bucky smirked at your reaction.

His thumb twirled harsh circles around your clit, making you moan loudly.

" Sensitive there, baby? " He teased. He took your tiny, quaking bud in between his fingers and pinched it gently. " I've barley even touched you and you look like you're about to explode. " He laughed darkly, lowering his head between your thighs.

You felt your breath being captured in your throat as he licked a long straight line from your entrance to your clit. The tip of his tongue slowly lugged up and down your little bundle of nerves. Up and down. Up and down

His two middle fingers dipped into your entrance steadily, the tips of them lightly brushing up against your warm walls. You groaned gutteraly, your head thrown back onto the soft mattress. Your fingers snaked into his brown, outgrown hair and you tugged on his scalp. He moaned against your cunt, soft vibrations being sent to your cunt and making you shiver.

" Fuuck, " he groaned lowly, his blue eyes rolling into the back of his head as he ate you out like a fucking starved man. " God, I missed this pussy. "

He parted his lips and flattened his tongue against your slippery folds then shook his head against your cunt. You squealed, your thighs jerking and clenching around his head. You bit down on your finger, your hips arching toward his face, begging for more friction.

" Did you touch yourself while I was gone, hmm? " He inquired, grinning, flicking his pretty blue eyes up to meet your gaze. Your eyes feel on his and your pussy fluttered at the look he was giving you.

" It's not the same is it? " He questioned, his lips pecking around your soft clit. Your brows curled up, your mouth opening in a little ' o ' shape. He knew you too well.

" Bucky... " You breathed. He sucked on your clit, making you gasp and shake in his arms. He knew what you were trying to do; you were trying to get him to shut up because he was embarrassing you.

" Did you think of me--hmmph.. touching you like this? "

His words send shivers down your spine. His voice was low, deep and smoother than a warm glass of milk.

" I bet you did. Dirty girl. " His fingers curled up into you, right in the spot he knew you loved so much. What was scary about it was that he knew where your little spot was and could hit it at any time he wanted, but chose not to; all just to tease you.

Your toes curled into the red silky sheets on your shared bed. You tugged on his hair harder, loud moans and cries leaving your mouth as he kissed and sucks in your pussy. Your face felt hot, and your cunt felt unnecessarily over-sensitive. You were going to break at any moment.

His lips closed around your aching clit, and he slowly bobbed his head against your cunt, sucking on it roughly. You closed your eyes tightly, your thighs shaking around your husband's face.

Bucky rose from your legs, substituting his mouth for his thumb to his his jaw a break. His two, long, thick middle fingers sunk deeply into your cunt. And he still had his wedding ring on. You couldn't control the loud, gasping moans that we're leaving your lips. Bucky loved it when you got loud for him; your loud moans told him he was doing something right and he loved testing how loud he could make you.

" Does that feel good, sweet girl? " He asked you, bending down to kiss you deeply. Your lips quivered against his, wet and puffy. You moaned in approval into his mouth. He grinned, pulling back and wiping his mouth. His fingers pumped in and out of you at an intoxicating sweet and fast but sensual pace. You stared at him with heavy lidded eyes, biting your lip.

" God, it's like you're in fucking heat right now. " He laughed, rubbing a hard line up and down your cunt. Your face became redder at his thoughts, your thighs clenching around his arm. He forced your legs back open.

" Oh, fuck you. " You sighed, letting your head fall back down onto the mattress. He hummed, cupping his hand around your shaking sex.

" Geez, honey. " He scoffed, lowering his head back between your thighs. A muscle in your core tensed, bracing for the impact his tongue was going to have on your sensitive flesh.

" You kiss your husband with that mouth? " He joked, his tongue rolling across your slit and making your hips jerk. God you hated his stupid, snarky, smart ass mouth. You gently smacked his face with your thigh.

" I'm gonna beat your ass. "

Like you could. He scoffed again at the thought of that. He was amused, and you were only fueling his fire.

" See, you like to talk like that, but the second I'm between your legs, you finally shut up. " He replied, his fingers curling in and out of you. He was right; you were a complete and utter wreck in his arms.

" Could this actually be putting you in your place? " Bucky wondered, his lips pecking at your flesh softly. As much as you wanted to pretend you were annoyed, the both of you knew that it felt too fucking good for you to actually have any negative feelings towards him in the moment. Not when you were moaning and gripping onto the sleeves of his t-shirt for the life of you.

" Now come on, honey. " He whispered against your pussy. He gave your flesh a long lick, his beard scratching against your skin as he did so.

" Be a good girl and come on my face, yeah? "

His eyes made contact with yours once more. You bit your lip, your cunt quivering. The pace of his fingers became noticably faster, his tongue flicking up and down your clit repeatedly. You could barley maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds before your eyes went rolling back into your skull.

Your breath became heavier, your hips rolling against his face as his tongue and skilled fingers worked together in harmony to push you right off the edge.

And it did not take long for you to reach the peak he wanted, given how absolutely touch sensitive you were that night. You came crashing onto his face hard, your orgasm long and full-body-shaking intense. Bucky moaned eagerly as he drank down ever last drop of the sweet honey that dripped down your hive.

His tongue lapped around your cunt, licking up your cum-covered folds unceremoniously.

He pulled back, droplets of your essence dripping down his chin, coating his beard. He chuckled when he realized the it was on him, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

The both of you just sat there for a moment, staring at eachother, panting. Your body was tingling with post-orgasmic bliss. But Bucky was not done with you.

His hands went down to his belt, and you quirked a brow at him.

" Baby, I can't do anything too crazy tonight. " You warned him, a warm sense of anticipation running through your body. Bucky smiled, taking his belt out of his pants.

" That's okay, honey. " He shrugged, leaning in to peck your lips. He hooked his thumb in the waistband of his pants and boxers, and shimmied his way out of his clothes. Then, he tore his way out of his grey long sleeved shirt, his dog tags falling onto his chest with a soft clink.

You felt like a teenage girl whenever her crush would walk past her in the hallway as you stared at Bucky. Of course, this was not your first time seeing him naked.... Like, at all, but he was just so beautiful in front of you.

All in his naked glory.

He crawled up your body, caging you in his arms as he braced them by your head, isolating you from the rest of the world. He leaned in and kisses you deeply, his hands reaching out for the base of your thighs.

" You don't have to do anything tonight. " He whispered. He directed his hardened, pre-cum lubricated cock towards your entrance. Your breath hitched as he slowly pushed inside you, your pussy stretching to accommodate his size. It was a familiar sensation, one that you had been missing out on for nearly 7 months.

" Just sit back and let me give you what you need. " He whispered, bringing your leg over his shoulder so he could angle his hips in a certain way that would let him sink his dick into you further.

Ah, and that was why you loved Bucky.

He loved helping you with things, and he loved pleasuring you in all kinds of ways. And he was never selfish or stingy about it, either. He loved the rewarding feeling of your sweet moans echoing through the walls whenever he was deep inside you. Just thinking of it made his head spin.

Bucky set a slow and steady pace for you, his cock dragging across your warm, slick walls deeply and eliciting tiny, breathy moans out of you. His right hand went up and down your plump thigh that was propped against his shoulder. He gave your calf butterfly kisses, making you feel all light and airy. You bit down on your lip, looking at him heavy lidded, lustful eyes.

Bucky's flesh hand went down to grip the base of your thigh, holding it against his torso as his pace quickened. His thrust were deep and hard, and his tags would clink together with each powerful stroke of his cock.

" Fuck, look at that. " He moaned, looking down between your legs at where your bodies met. He watched his thick cock disappear into your warmth, picking up your sweet slick onto his shaft with each thrust he gave you. He threw his head back, his bangs covering his handsome face as his hips rolled against yours and he panted heavily.

There was a thin layer of sweat glistening down his body. You were starting to sweat too. The both of you hadn't done this in months, after all. But just the mere thought of that made Bucky's thirst for you worst.

He heald your thigh to his chest tighter, and his pace swiftly became hurried and heavy. You let out a whimper for each thrust he gave you, your muscles tensing and contracting around him at the sudden movement.

" You like that? " He asked, his voice hoarse as a wild smile broke upon his face. Your eyes were closed shut, and all you could do was just weakly nod and whimper in response. Your little cunt was so sensitive around him.

His cock hauled in and out of your velvet walls, kissing every single inch of you, every single inch that you that so badly needed to be touched. His vibranium hand reached between your quivering legs and laid upon your pelvic bone so he thumb could trace and rub your clit.

Your body jolted at the contact, and your mouth flung open in surprise. Each touch he gave you, though not that hard at all, made your entire body jerk and shake violently. His vibranium hand was cold, too, only adding to the sensations.

" Bucky.. " you whined; a whine he knew all too well.

You were gonna cum soon.

He smirked.

" Getting close, sugar? " He quirked a brow at you, kissing your calf again. You moaned gutteraly and loudly, the sounds echoing off the walls and surely heard from downstairs. Your fingers clawed at his forearm, your back lifting off the bed in pure pleasure.

" Ye-yeah. O-oh. Fuck. " You choked on your moans, your eyes falling into the back of your head. He was starting to feel his build up too.

Feeling bold, Bucky shifted you closer to his body--if that was even possible--and pumped his cock into you like there was absolutely no tomorrow.

" C'mon. " He grunted through gritted teeth, his hips slamming against your at an unimaginable harsh pace. Your toes curled in the air, your thighs clenching around his body, your sex convulsing and gripping on his cock for dear life, never letting go of it.

His cockhead was pushed against your sweet spot, making you cry out in ecstasy. Your gripped onto his shoulders, opening your mouth to say something, but your words were overtaken by your heavy breathing and desperate cries.

" Fuck, fuck. Bucky, right there! Ri--gonna fuck--ahh. " You barley mustered the words, too fucked out of your head to even make up a proper sentence. Bucky chuckled darkly. He rolled his thumb against your clit again, making you jump and cry out

" Yeah? Yeah? That feels good, hmm? " Bucky panted, bending forward to kiss you, his torso pressing your knee against your chest. You were a wreck. A mantra of moans left your mouth, your mind hazy and filled only if the thoughts of your husband. He leaned die to kiss your shoulder.

" Fuck, sweetie, I'm gonna cum soon. Where do you want me to finish? " He asked, pulling back and flicking his head to get his hair out of his face. You didn't even need a lot of time to think about your answer, you just needed some time to stop moaning and breathing so hard.

" I-inside. " You responded. He slowed down.

" Inside? " He repeated, confused.

" Bucky just do it! " You cried out, putting your hand on his chest.

So it looks like you had finally thought about his little suggestion from earlier.

The moment he realized that, he couldn't stop grinning ear to ear, and he reset back to the fast pace he had set for you previously. He was proud to say the least, and it encouraged him to keep up until the both of you finished.

You came down a little bit before him, but that didn't stop him from keeping up the pace. Being a super solider sure did come in handy for stamina, huh? Well--for him that was the case, for you, not so much.

And that man was not stopping until he was able to fill you up.

Thick, hot ropes of his cum came spurting inside of you, filling you up completely and making you feel warm and fuzzy.

The both of you were panting heavily, relived and also extremely exhausted. It had been a very long day for you both, but that night was surely the highlight of your night... And also a highlight for the rest of your life's.

" Fuck, " he panted, setting your leg back down onto the bed. His chest heaved up and down, and your body shook uncontrollably from your past orgasms.

" I'm very glad you agreed with me." He smiled foolishly, pulling out of you slowly. A little bit of his cum came gushing down your legs, and he was quick to scoop it up with his fingers and shove it back in there.

" Don't want that being wasted if we're gonna have this baby, hm? "

------

“ How old are they now? “ Sam asked Bucky as they walked together along the dock. Bucky didn't usually talk about his family a lot, but the question of his family had been once again brought up at a time where Bucky just couldn't resist not talking about them.

“ Our oldest is 5, and our youngest is 9 months. “ Bucky responded. Sam couldn't help but give his old friend a tooth grin. He was a huge family man.

“ You gonna tell me about them? Or your wife? I still don't even know this woman. “ Sam teased. Buckies eyes softened as he thought about it. A familiar feeling washed through them, a rather nostalgic one at that. They couldn't quite figure out what it was.

“ No. “ Bucky responded. “ No, I don't think I will. “ It was those exact words that got Sam to remember where the nostalgia was coming from. As Bucky spoke, he could hear Steve’s voice along with his. It was one of the last interactions Sam had with Steve; when Steve had given Sam his shield. He remembered seeing the ring on his finger. But then again, Sam was always reminded of Steve when he was around Bucky.

“ All I will tell you, though, is that… 2 kids definitely wasn't enough for us. “ Bucky laughed, shaking his head. His cheeks turned pink at the idea, and he hid his face in embarrassment the moment he said it. Sam’s mouth flew open in shock.

“ You dog! “ He exclaimed, nudging Bucky to the side with his elbow. The both of them exchanged laughter.

“ Is she expecting? “ Sam asked excitedly, like a toddler who was just told by their mother that they could have a piece of candy. He was practically shaking with endorphins, waiting for the answer. But Bucky just shook his head.

“ I won't tell you that. “ Bucky teased, furrowing his brows at his best friend. Sam threw his hands in the air in disbelief.

“ What?! But I'm your best friend!! “

“ I'm not telling you! “ Bucky laughed, enjoying the banter between the both of them.

“ Come on, please!! I have to know, don't leave me on the edge of my seat! “

“ Come on dude, I just said I'm not telling you. “ Bucky said in a mocking tone.

“ James, you gotta tell me–” Bucky cut him off.

“ Oh yeah? You calling me James now? Only my wife calls me that. “ Bucky confessed, teasingly leaving tiny little crumbs about his family for Sam to chew on.

“ Oh really?! What else? “ Sam demanded.

“ Is this how we’re really playing it? Fine. Come to the baby shower on September 14th and maybe you'll see then. “ Bucky teased his best friend one last time. Sam became even more shocked. He jumpped around the fock, waving his arms in the air. He planted his feet into the hardwood of the floor, his hands on the top of his head as he threw his head around like a lunatic.

“ What?! “ Sam exclaimed. Bucky nonchalantly nodded his head and muttered “ yeah “ as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“ Oh my god! Oh my god, brother–wow.. Ju-just wow! “ Sam sighed, completely awestruck.

“ I’m so proud of you, man! “ He spoke, pulling Bucky in for a rather soul-squeezing hug. He patted his back harshly a couple of times, and then, as they parted, ferociously dabbed him up.

“ Thank you. “ Bucky said a couple of times as Sam proceeded to yell words of praise right into his ear.

“ You know, I think there's something wrong with me. Each time we've.. you know, I've always hit the bullseye. Each time.“ Bucky jokes, even though everything he's saying is true. Sam's smile immediately faded.

“ Okay, I know I said I wanted to know about them, but I didn't need to know that. “ Sam said, taking his arm off Buckies shoulder. He shrugged.

They continued to walk around the dock, the floorboard creaking under their footsteps. The sun was setting, casting a beautiful purple, pink and orange hue throughout the sky. It felt nice for Bucky to be in Sams town again. Only little did Sam know that Bucky's " mysterious " family was actually with him in town, and he had plans to introduce him to them the next day.

“ So what do you want to do before you leave? “ Sam asked. “ There's this really good Thai place a few blocks down. “

Bucky smiled, kicking a nearby rock across the dock. He was wondering how he was going to keep his little secret from his friend for the next few hours.

[ A/N: This portion of this fic was originally written for the first ever draft I wrote for Bucky. It was titled Clouser and was written in the middle of my theatre class. Yes, my theatre class. I loved the interaction between them so much that I wanted to use it for this fic. ]

[purplecoffee13]

Please, Please, Please - pt.1

Summary: “Harry is utterly fascinated by his new neighbor, Y/N, and takes it upon himself to protect her. But little does Y/N know, that Harry may be the person she is supposed to be running from…”

Wc: 5.6k

Tropes: good girl x bad boy / neighbors

Warnings: mentions of violence, cursing, bit of gaslighting.

A/N: THIS IS A TWO PART ONE SHOT based on this request. Please note that it is based around the MUSIC VIDEO, not necessarily the song itself! I decided to cut it up into two parts, because it was getting awfully long, and I was too eager to share it with you. Next part will be steamy!

General Masterlist

PART 2

You sigh, looking up at your new home. Well— you think. You're not exactly sure which window is yours, but you will figure it out once you're on the right floor. You adjust the duffel bag that is slung over your shoulder, and grab your suitcase before walking towards the entrance.

With your new set of keys which you got from the landlord yesterday, you open the door to the lobby. Or, hallway with post boxes. That would definitely be a more accurate way to describe it.

When you were little and fantasized about moving into a place of your own, you have to admit, you did imagine something a bit less... intimidating. Unfortunately, you had been left with no choice.

Ever since your dad died about five years ago, your mother has been serial dating like there was no tomorrow. You had learned to ignore the different men in your kitchen, eating the cereal and drinking your coffee at 7am, but lately something had changed.

Your mother had stuck with one man.

Sadly for you—and your mother, although she wasn't ready to admit that—the guy was a fucking prick. Worst thing about him? He was sneaky about it. When you confronted your mother, telling her you weren't sure if her new boyfriend was that good of a guy, she had flipped out. As she threw all kinds of accusations on the table, such as you not wanting her to be happy and even insinuating you want her boyfriend for herself, you decided that enough was enough.

That night, you hunted the internet for an affordable place. It's how you found this apartment. You knew it wasn't the best neighborhood, but it was a place of your own, and you were sure that you could make it on your own over there.

After all, you had a well paid office job not too far away, and the costs of the apartment wouldn't interfere too much with your saving for law school.

So, kind of on a whim, you contacted the landlord. And now, here you are, ready to unpack all of your stuff. Your mother had at least been so kind to hire a moving truck, but you think it mainly had to do with her wanting you out of her house as quick as possible. You shared the sentiment, so you hadn't said much about it, besides a polite thank you of course.

It takes you three hours to get everything upstairs, and the janitor, Rod, even helps you out with some of the big furniture. Being a tall, broad guy, appearing to be in his sixties, you had actually been quite unnerved by him. Nevertheless, you decided to play smart and throw him a sweet smile the first time you ran into him. It had faded the seemingly permanent  frown on his ever so slightly, and after introducing yourself, his face was even neutral.

It didn't take more than three minutes of chit chat before Rod had warmed up to you, and by the end of the fifteen minutes, he offered to help you. If it hadn't been for him, you would've still been carrying pieces of your couch into your apartment.

You had been able to take over the bed frame and the dining table from the previous owner, so you only had to put your mattress on your bed before you could let yourself fall on it and chill out for a while.

After letting yourself rest for about fifteen minutes, you unpack as much of the stuff in the kitchen, and you spend the rest of the night unpacking your clothes while dancing to the music that blasts through your headphones.

At around midnight, you pass out during a feeble attempt at sorting your socks.

Your peaceful slumber gets interrupted, however, by an array of less peaceful noises coming from another apartment. The first few minutes awake are spent with your eyes stubbornly closed, hoping to fall asleep again, but when you hear an extremely loud thud, your eyes shoot open.

Getting up from your bedroom, you walk over to your door, and look through the peephole. It doesn't seem like there is anyone in the hallway, and the sounds do seem to have quieted down. You sigh, turning around to go back to your bed, when you hear a shout, followed by another thump. Frowning, you go back and open the door, walking out into the hallway. You squint, and blink a few times to get used to the harsh light. Then, you knock on the door in front of you.

There's a couple of voices sounding from inside the apartment, but no one answers. You groan, knocking again, and even harsher this time. It grows quiet, and you are contemplating going back to bed, hoping whoever is on the other side of that wall got the message, but then the door swings open.

In front of you stands a man, with brown curls and a very apparent frown on his face. One that falters ever so slightly at the sight of you, and is accompanied by a small smirk. He leans against the door frame. His cross necklace dangles, visible by his dress shirt that is far from buttoned all the way up, and you swear it hypnotizes you for the shortest second.

"H-hi." You stammer, looking at the man with wide eyes. His smirk grows, and you forget why you are even here.

"Hello." He greets back, hands sliding into his pockets as he looks you up and down, shamelessly. "What can I do for you, sweetheart?"

"Uh, I just moved into the apartment across from you, and I was wondering if you could keep down the noise a little bit?" You ask, but the man doesn't respond. He solely scans you with some sort of frown on his face. You can't deduce whether that is his neutral face, or if he's pissed at you. Nevertheless, you are kind of scared. "It's just— I don't mean to be rude. I just have to get up very early, and it was very loud, so... also, are you okay? It's— I heard a thud, I thought maybe someone fell?"

Once again, it grows quiet between the two of you. With every passing moment of silence, you are regretting your choice to knock. Did you really have to piss off your neighbors the first night you moved in? Couldn't have just battled through a broken night? You curse yourself as you wait for some sort of answer.

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll shut it all down for you."

You let out a breath of relief, glad to see he is not taking it badly. You bite your lip, trying to fight your smile from getting too wide.

"Really? Thank you so much! I appreciate it, and I really didn't mean to offend you or anything. I promise, it's just because I have to get up so early and the coffee at my work is horrible so—" You stop yourself mid-sentence when you realize you are babbling your new neighbor's ear off. "Never mind. Good night, and nice to meet you. My name is Y/N, by the way."

The man doesn't say anything once again, so you take it as your cue to get the fuck back to bed before making it worse. You walk into your apartment, turning around to close the door, when you hear his voice.

"Harry."

Your head shoots up, tilting it ever so slightly at the sudden word spoken by your neighbor. He tilts his head, mocking you, as he repeats the name while pointing to himself. With that, he turns around and closes the door. You do the same, leaning against the door as you realize you have the hottest new neighbor ever.

Another, extremely loud thud sounds from his apartment, and your eyebrows knit together. A loud voice is heard, one that is clearly Harry's shouting 'sorry!'. You giggle, shaking your head at the comedic timing before waltzing back to your bed.

Little do you know, that while you fall back asleep in your comfortable bed, your new neighbor thinks about you through the entire night. Harry's mind is absent, even as they drag the body of the guy that didn't pay up in time out of his apartment, even as he scrubs the blood off his hands and face.

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll shut it all down for you."

He had been purely sarcastic, baffled by the fact that you even had the guts to knock on his door. The first time you knocked, he thought it was just noise from outside or something. No one was stupid enough to knock on Harry Styles' door. No one was dumb enough to risk it.

But someone did knock; an insanely beautiful woman with nothing but an oversized shirt on. Well, shorts under it maybe, but for the sake of his imagination, you didn't. And you weren't stupid, you just didn't know whose door you were knocking on.

Anyone else who would have been foolish enough to do so, especially while he was dealing with a deadbeat who owed him more than enough money, would've met an entirely different fate.

The way you stumbled over your words and  let your eyes travel over his body had given him too much of an ego boost not to play with you a little bit. And once you had reacted so genuinely to his sarcastic response, he somehow didn't have it in his heart to tell you that he wasn't being serious.

Which is strange, because he didn't peg himself for someone with a heart, not anymore.

Nevertheless, he decided that you were right. The incessant noise had gone on long enough. And so, right after he closed the door, Harry turned around aimed his silencer right at the deadbeat's head. Following the thud of his body falling down, he had shouted a 'sorry' for the last noise he would make that night.

Now, as he lays in bed, the reason for his sleeplessness isn't the weight of another death on his shoulders. No, it's his new neighbor and her long, bare legs.

************************************************

ONE DAY LATER

Your shoulders are hurting.

After yesterday's moving activities and today's excruciatingly long day at work, you are exhausted. Not only did you have to do an insane amount of paperwork today, you also got assigned to even more administrative work that shouldn't even be yours to deal with in the first place.

When you had mentioned you wanted to gain experience in the field of law during your interview for receptionist at a law firm, you hadn't expected them to throw all the work in your lap. You were doing a lot of things, spending way too many after hours in the office, doing jobs that were never in your job description, and instead labeled as 'ways to gain experience'. The worst thing is, your boss is acting like these tasks are a huge favor to you, but you know it's just the jobs that they are too lazy to do themselves.

Nonetheless, you don't say anything about it. Despite the cruelness and sometimes uselessness of the assignments you are given, you do have access to active cases that lawyers are working on, and it gives you an opportunity to observe their styles and its effectiveness.

Wanting to become a lawyer is something you had always dreamed of. You loved justice, and you weren't afraid to fight for it. In your day to day life, you are very sweet, bubbly, and in some cases—like yesterday—even shy. But once you are in a professional setting, you can switch and stand strong. The division between your personal and professional self is one you have learned to balance very well, and you also use it as a secret weapon. People are way too quick to underestimate you, and you always make sure it comes back to bite them in the ass.

You put your groceries and briefcase on the ground, allowing yourself to look for your keys, which you forgot to take out of your bag and are now buried somewhere at the bottom. Head deep into your purse, you don't notice Harry walking out of his apartment until his door shuts. It is right after you've found your keys, so with them in hand you turn around to greet him with a smile.

Your new neighbor looks gorgeous, which doesn't bode well for you because you are currently feeling like an expired, mushy sack of potatoes. You shiver at the thought.

"Hey!" You say instead.

"Hello sweetheart." His smooth, English accent hits your ears just right. "Sleep well last night?"

Your cheeks turn pink, and you nod. "Yes, thank you for asking. Oh! Speaking of..."

You turn around and bend down to dig through your grocery bag. When your eyes meet Harry's again, you are reaching out a bouquet of flowers. He stares at it, wary of your intentions.

"They're for you." You feel the need to clarify.

"Aw, sweetheart, you didn't have to go through the hassle of buying me flowers. I'm quite an easy man you know, all you have to do is ask." He says, grin wide as he observes the way your eyes nearly pop out of your sockets at the suggestion of him and you. He likes seeing you all flustered.

"W-what, no! I— it was for yesterday! Because you were so nice to me. I wanted to make up for meeting in such an unfortunate way. Didn't want you to think you have a shitty neighbor now or something." You explain, watching Harry's amusement at your awkwardness.

"I'd never think that, sweetheart." His voice is low, and despite saying it in a bit of a joking way, you swallow at the sound of the sentence. The raspiness of it just gets to you. You brush your nerves off with a weak smile, and turn to open your door.

"Well, have a good night." You say, awkwardly waving at Harry as you carry your bags into your apartment. You place them in your hallway before walking back to close the door. Harry waves back with the flowers, winking at you.

"Good night, sweetheart."

Your heart races at the continuous nickname. It sounds so sexy coming out of his mouth, and it is the only thing you can think of as you cook your dinner. It is even hard to concentrate while watching your favorite show.

A few hours go by, and the sound of Harry's voice doesn't fade from your mind. Neither does the excruciating pain in your shoulders. At around nine p.m. you give up and decide to grab some painkillers. However, to your great horror, you find out that you ran out and forgot to buy new ones.

Cursing yourself, you rush over to your coatrack and grab your jacket. Along with your purse, containing important things such as money, your keys, and pepper spray, you leave your apartment to pop into the convenience store nearby.

It's only a five minute walk, but with your speed you cut a minute from that estimate. It takes a little bit to find the paracetamol, but after grabbing two boxes of pills, you rush to the cash register. You wait until the man in front of you has paid, smiling politely when he turns around to walk out of the store, and step forward to pay for your painkillers.

Despite the cashier's monotone voice, you are more than satisfied with this convenience store, and you walk out smiling at the knowledge of being rid of your pain very soon.

You flinch at the sight of the man from before standing right outside, grinning at you as you walk by. Despite his middle aged appearance, his teeth are rather yellow. You avoid making further eye contact, tension growing in your stomach. As you walk back to your apartment, you make sure to keep your pace quick.

You're too scared to look behind you, but you feel it. You feel that this man is walking a few meters behind you and you also feel like you might throw up. But you keep walking, keys in one hand, pepper spray in the other.

You are ready to open the door that leads you to the hallway of your apartment complex, and immediately push the key into the hole once you get there. But for some stupid fucking reason, the door won't budge. Your heartbeat rises and your hands are getting clammy as you shimmy your keys, trying to open that goddamn door. As your eyes begin to water, you hear a voice behind you.

"Need some help, pumpkin?"

Frantically, your gaze searches for a way to get out of here. It falls into the intercom, but you can't seem to find some sort of emergency button. Since you can't buzz yourself in, that option seems to be useless.

Then, an idea enters your mind.

You take a deep breath, hoping it'll steady your voice before you respond. "No thank you."

The man chuckles. "I think you do. 'S okay, I like a damsel in distress."

Pulling the key out of the hole and wrapping your hand around it, you turn around to the man. You swallow your pride and try to be as nice as you can be when rejecting someone. Stepping back a bit, you almost lean against the wall as you blindly press one of the buttons behind you. Luckily, the noise of ringing a bell isn't very loud from downstairs, so you don't think the man notices your sneaky action.

"I am fine, good night." You say, your smile gone now. You can't find it in yourself to be nice and sweet after that creepy comment. Technically, you are very helpless right now. Because of him, and his actions that fill you with fear. The threat of his presence is what makes you that 'damsel in distress' in the first place, and you hate the fact that men idolize saving you when often they are the danger itself.

"I don't think you are. Why don't you come with me, get a drink together?" His tone is dominated by the insincerity that drips from his words. You know it isn't a question, it's a command. The salacious smirk he wears with it is disgusting, and the way his eyes shamelessly scan you makes you want to shower five times just to feel less gross.

You feel the slight pain in your thumb for pressing so much and hard into the button behind you, but you can't help but pray that your idea will work.

"No, please leave me alone." You try to be as stern as you can, although your shaky voice isn't conveying that message very well.

"I don't think you understood what I said, pumpkin. You and me are gonna get a drink together." He reaches forward and grabs you by your arm, pulling you towards him. You try to shake him off of you, but his grip only tightens. You choke out a cry, still trying to get his grimy hands off of you while he only buries his fingernails further into your skin.

"Let me go!" You scream as loud as you can, hoping that there is someone who will at least hear you. Your free hand reaches into your purse, and you pull out your pepper spray. In a split second, you are holding it up and spray it in the man's eyes.

He shrieks in shock, and lets go of you, covering his eyes with his hands. You quickly turn around to run back inside, but crash into a body on your way there.

Holding your waist, Harry keeps you from falling over. He frowns, his jaw clenching when he catches your terror filled, red eyes.

"Go inside." He orders. While the context is stern, the words spoken come out way softer than one would think when demanding something from someone. You don't have to be told twice, rushing through the open door and running up the countless flights of stairs. You are completely out of breath when you reach your floor, but you don't stop hurrying until you are in the safety of your own apartment.

You tear all your clothes off your body, feeling like you might choke because everything you have on feels to tight to your skin. You keep crying as you jump into the shower to wash yourself off, as you take off your make-up, and as you put a tank top and loose sweatpants on your freshly washed body.

You take your head out of the bun it was in to keep it dry as you walk towards your front door upon hearing a knock. When you open it, you're standing face-to-face with your neighbor.

"Are you okay?" Harry asks, eyebrows knotted as he looks at you. You nod, not wanting to say a word because you don't want to make him uncomfortable by becoming a blubbering mess in front of him. "Can I come in?"

You nod again, opening the door further so he can enter your place. His steps are careful and light, and you see his eyes scan the apartment as he walks in. You shut the door behind him, making Harry turn around to look at you.

He is back at your side as soon as he spots the marks on your arm that the creepy man left when he tried to take you to god knows where. With a tight jaw, Harry glances up at you.

"You need to put ice on that. It's gonna bruise."

You look down, too timid to meet his gaze, and notice Harry's red knuckles. It doesn't take you very long to put two and two together. For some reason, you don't want to directly mention that just yet, so instead you whisper:

"You too."

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle and nods his head, watching you as you walk over to your freezer to get some ice. Putting it in two different dish cloths, you hand one to him before walking over to your couch. Harry follows suit, plopping next to you and putting the cloth meant for him on your arm.

Flushed from that action, you slowly grab his hand and place it flat on your thigh. Ignoring the way it makes the rest of your body feel, you press the ice filled cloth against his knuckles, hoping the cold will give him some relief. He winces, his fingers tightening around your thigh ever so slightly before immediately relaxing again.

Your eyes travel to your own arm, initially to see Harry's hand wrapped around it. However, the sight of the red marks on your arm make your eyes water again, the memory from what just happened resurfacing. The sickening fear of not knowing how the fuck to get out of that situation is as overwhelming as it was just before, even though you are safe now. You hate that a man made you feel so weak.

You can't help the tears from flowing, so you just let them as you silently recall the events of tonight. Your thoughts are cut in on when Harry removes his bruised hand from your thigh and cups it around your jaw. He leans forward, green eyes all sympathetic.

"It's okay, you're okay. He won't hurt you anymore, or ever again." He whispers. You shut your eyes, your silent tears now breaking into soft sobs. There is no choice but to let the sadness flow, and relish in the comfort of Harry's fingers wiping away your tears as you cry out the stress you had been feeling, and give it a place.

You feel it getting lighter with every cry. Each tear that Harry catches is a bit of weight off your shoulders. For some reason he chooses to sit there and offer you a space to store your pain. And even though normally you would never allow yourself, tonight you make use of that space.

*****************************************

A few weeks had gone by, and Harry had taken it upon himself to become your new watch dog. After what happened, he refused to let you go outside by yourself.

The morning after the incident, you got up and went to work like normal. But when you opened your apartment door, you ran into Harry, who had also been planning on going outside. He walked you to your car, and watched as you drove away. That night, when you returned from work, you ran into him again in the hallway downstairs, and walked to your apartments together.

After about three nights of these exact same situations, you could confirm for yourself that Harry was waiting to escort you anywhere.

You thought confronting him about your knowledge of his schemes would put an end to the overprotectiveness, but you were proven wrong. Instead of toning down his behavior, he amped it up. There wasn't a trip to the supermarket that you made by yourself anymore. And anytime you tried to say something about his following you everywhere, he would make up a silly excuse that left you speechless with flushed cheeks and a stupid grin on your face. You gave up fighting it not long after that, mainly because you enjoy his company so much.

Being so close to Harry all the time did make you realize how much distance everyone else kept from him. You didn't miss how people avoided his gaze, or how certain cashiers stumbled over their words as you paid for your groceries. It had you wondering; just how scary was Harry?

Harry had really taken it upon himself to protect you. It kind of went automatically, if he had to be honest. He simply couldn't watch you walk around the neighborhood so defenseless. What happened to you had enraged him so much, he didn't want a repetition of it.

Of course, an exact repetition was not an option anymore since he had beaten up the guy who assaulted you to the point where he was hospitalized. Harry couldn't find it in himself to feel even the slightest of remorse. Well, maybe only for the fact that he didn't kill him right then and there. He would have, had he not been too worried about you being alone upstairs.

Soon enough, word had traveled about your association with Harry, and it resulted into people being afraid of you. You were so incredibly confused about the shaky voices of people you'd ask for help in stores. You had never imagined yourself to have such an intimidating aura.

Since Harry had taken it upon himself to watch you, you had taken it upon yourself to feed him. It was the least you could do, and it gave you a reason to keep him around longer at night.

Part of you was aware that wanting to get closer to Harry might not be the best idea, especially considering the collectively instilled fear that lingered everywhere he would go. But he was so sweet to you, and you were sure that there was an explanation.

So, tonight during dinner, you had decided you would ask him about it.

Harry was delighted when you asked him if he wanted to stay and eat, and didn't hesitate to say yes. Now as he leans against the counter, watching you cook the pasta you promised to prepare, you have to actively control your breathing. His intense stare has a way of turning your legs into jelly and fogging up your mind.

"How was your day?" You ask him as casually as you can. Harry doesn't tear his eyes off of you, grinning at the way he is making you squirm.

"Good, love."

You swallow at the new nickname he suddenly conjured up. The low baritone of his voice combined with his green eyes on yours has your heartbeat getting out of control. You hear the breathy chuckle leaving Harry's mouth, and it makes your stomach turn. He knows exactly what he is doing.

"So, uhm... I have a question." You say, focusing extra hard on stirring the boiling pasta. He hums, indirectly telling you to ask away. You turn down the pitch on which your pasta stands, and turn to face him. For the first second that you meet his eyes, you were forget what you were even going to ask him, but you quickly regain your senses.

"Why is everyone here so afraid of you?" You tilt your head, really observing Harry. Sure, he is tall, with a broad and muscled figure. He always wears dark clothes and his green eyes will never look away first. But to truly be terrified of this man? You couldn't imagine why.

Harry doesn't say anything. He pushes himself away from the counter and walks towards you, slowly towering over your smaller frame. He leans forward, his face closer to yours than it has ever been before, and it gives you ideas that you probably shouldn't have.

"Do I scare you?"

Silently, you shake your head. Harry's eyes slowly travel down your face, fixating on your mouth for the longest five seconds you have ever experienced, and then shoot back up to meet yours again. "Then why do you care so much about what others think?"

"I don't." You respond embarrassingly fast, overwhelmed with a need to get his approval.

"Well, there you have your answer."

With that, he turns around to the counter and grabs the glass of white wine you poured for him. Taking it between his hands as if it were a cocktail glass, you watch entranced as he takes a sip. Your gaze falls onto his hands. You feel sinful for the thoughts that occupy your mind, but they fly out the window when you spot how bruised his knuckles are. And you realize...

"No, I don't." You say sternly. Harry looks at you, amused by your protest. "I don't know anything about you, Harry."

Harry laughs, but it’s a bitter laugh, accompanied by his hand running through his hair and his head shaking as if he can’t believe what he is dealing with. A part of you wants to get on your knees and beg him to forgive you for being suspicious of who he truly is, but you refrain from doing it.

“People fear what they don’t know, Y/N.” He says, his eyes finding yours. Your heart starts beating faster, aware of the fact that his eyes are going to keep being trained on yours without even so much as faltering.

“I don’t give a fuck about what those people think of me, they don’t know me. You do. So why is their judgment relevant? I’m here, aren’t I? Standing in front of you, letting you know me. Is that not enough?”

You feel a pang of guilt in your stomach at his words, and the authenticity of them. You let out a sigh, breaking eye contact to look down at the floor, contemplating what he’s saying. Maybe he is right.

“Sorry.” You say so softly it could almost be classified as a whisper. The feeling of Harry’s fingers pushing your chin up makes your eyes meet his, and you notice the hint of a smile he wears.

“Go sit.”

Slightly confused, you follow his order, looking back at him to see him finishing up the pasta and making a bowl for the both of you.

“I’m 29.” He states, his back still to you. Your mouth breaks into a smile, and you prop your elbow on the couch, leaning your chin into the palm of your hand as you observe him.

“Really?” You are grinning like a proper idiot now. Harry nods.

“I don’t have any siblings, but we did have a dog, and we rescued a stray kitten that was sleeping in our garden.” He goes on, turning around and walking over to the couch with the bowls of pasta. He sits down and hands you one.

“What are their names?” You ask.

“Dog is called Pepper. Mum let me name the cat, so I named her Hades.” He explains, making you a giggle.

“You named your girl cat Hades?”

“Persephone is such a mouthful. Plus, I was like ten, and had this big obsession with Hades.” He shrugs, taking a bite of the pasta. Your eyes widen, and you begin to laugh even harder.

“You mean to tell me that little ten year old Harry was obsessed with the Greek God of the underworld, the God of death… Are you okay?”

Harry shrugs. “He’s just doing his job.”

You cover your face with your hands, beyond amused by his nonchalance. You don’t see it, but Harry might take more joy out of the situation than you. His eyes sparkle with adoration as he watches you laugh, and he wishes he knew how to control time just to stay in this moment forever. There is something so extraordinary about your happiness being caused by him. He is fascinated with how much he wishes he could do it every day for the rest of his life.

He didn’t know whether opening up about himself was the smartest ideas, but he would give you his social security number if it made you laugh like that.

You take your hands off your face and look at him, the sudden urge to kiss him being almost unbearable. Almost. You sigh, not knowing how to express these feelings you have towards him, so instead you opt for a simple comment.

“I’m so glad you’re my neighbor.”

Harry smirks. “I’m glad you’re my neighbor too.”