#Apparently I make any V cute

[vince-linder]

The boys are back in town

The three are getting ready for whatever mayhem the next Fixer had for them. ____ Vance belongs to @jasakime Vito belongs to @arczism Vince belongs to me Love you guys <3

[milkbreadtoast]

o yeah btw i liked these guys from the latest crk update..... detective gays.... macaroni and cheese....🤭

[airbenderedacted]

What was the beta s2 villain design? I haven’t heard or seen abt that one n im curious

,,,,Bombshell my bbygirl,.

[dollfacefantasy]

can't get started ♡

older bf!logan howlett x fem!reader

logan can't get it up one night and is humiliated. but that just means he'll have to prove he can still satisfy you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, daddy kink, age gap (reader in 20s)

a/n: the part in dpw where he said he's got whiskey dick with the claws turned me on too much tbh

This had never happened to Logan before.

That wasn't a lie he was telling you to make himself look less pathetic. It wasn't an affirmation he repeated in his own head to feel like he was still hot shit. It was the truth. One he would swear to on anything.

He'd never had a problem getting it up before.

Not with you, not with anyone. He thought the healing factor made him immune to whiskey dick or any kind of down-there dysfunction. But apparently not. Because the two of you finally had some time alone after being amidst the chaos of the mansion all day and his body was stalling.

The second he had the bedroom door shut, you were dragging him over to the bed and climbing into his lap. You were doing everything like usual. Your lips pressed against his, and then moved to his jawline and down his neck. Your hands glided across the firm muscles of his chest. Your hips rolled down against his lap, beckoning the appendage between his legs to reciprocate your desire.

But it just wouldn't. He tried to make it because it wasn't a matter of not wanting you. He wanted you bad. 

He grabs your chin and brings your lips back up to his mouth so he can communicate his passion wordlessly. He digs his fingers into your hips, feeling the beginnings of where your flesh swells into your ass. He envisions how you'd been prancing around the whole day, cute tits pushing against the fabric of your t-shirt and calling out for him to grab.

You're so soft and warm. The little mewls that leave your lips sound like calls of angels up above. It doesn't matter though. His cock had clocked out for the night.

"God damnit," he grumbles before brushing you off his lap and bringing his fist down against the mattress. He sighs and his head hangs.

He can already sense the look on your face. Worry, hesitation, and affection swirling into one humiliating look. He feels your hand find his shoulder, the touch tender and accepting.

"It's ok, Logan. We don't have to," you say. Your tone is so soft and gentle, and it just drives him fucking nuts.

"But you want to," he says and looks over at you. The look in your eyes kills him. He knows you don't mean it, but it looks so patronizing. As if he's an old dog about to be taken out back and old yeller'd.

"Yeah but I don't want you to force yourself. We can just cuddle," you offer, sweet as can be.

"It's not forcing, I want to do this. I want you so bad," he says and cups your cheek. He pulls you back onto his lap and nuzzles your neck. "Been thinking about this all day."

You let out a little sigh as he lays some kisses on the column of your throat, and that gives him a spark of hope. Maybe he can do this. Maybe he doesn't have to be put out to pasture just yet. The two of you make out and grind and feel each other up some more. But eventually your tits are all but in his face and his dick still doesn't have a pulse.

He huffs and pulls back. 'Fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says.

You watch him, the gleam in your eyes as adoring as ever. It was the same look you gave him when you'd have to explain a basic function of a cell phone to him.

"It's ok. You don't have to be embarrassed," you reassure and lean in to peck his cheek.

He groans and gently brushes you off. "Don't. I don't need you coddling me."

"I'm just saying. I understand," you say with conviction, hands splaying on your chest to physically convey your empathy, "It happens to lots of guys when they get older. You don't have to be ashamed of it with me."

And in that moment, he wishes he didn't have his mutation so he could just die on the spot from being utterly mortified. He'd actually have preferred if you laughed in his face and called him an old man. A sad, old, perverted fuck who decided to date some half his age even though he couldn't keep up with her appetite. If you'd told him you were gonna find someone who could satisfy you, it probably would've stung less than being talked to like a patient who doesn't know their cancer is terminal.

There was no chance in hell, you'd ever do any of that though. As much as he hated that fact right now, it was part of why he loved you.

All he does is mumble a thank you and kiss the corner of your mouth. He doesn't just cuddle you after though. He gets you off on his thigh. You were still going to cum even if he couldn't. When you're done, he holds you close and rubs your back till you're sleeping curled up to his side.

His night isn't very restful though. It's haunted with the prospect of future incidents like this, of your perception of him changing. The look in your eyes changing from admiration to pity.

He can't live with that. The next day for the two of you is super busy, but he makes sure there's a spot at the end of it for him to secure his redemption.

This time around it's him carting you away from the others once the sun is down, mouth on the curve of your neck before you even reach the bedroom. His hands grope your waist and paw at your tits. You stumble into the door, bumping it loud enough that you'd be worried about someone hearing you if they weren't all downstairs.

"Logan..." you giggle. You push your ass back against him and glance at him out of your peripheral.

"Not what you're gonna be calling me before the night is done, sweet thing," he grunts and boosts you up.

Your legs press into his sides to support yourself as he opens the door. He takes the two of you inside and kicks it shut behind him before heading to the bed and tossing you on the mattress.

You look up at him with a coy smile, arms propping you up and one of your legs extended to entice him.

"You know... you don't have to prove anything to me, right?" you say.

"Oh, I don't?" he asks and grabs your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed so your hips meet, "You're too easy to please, babydoll."

Another laugh bubbles through your lips. Your legs drop to lock around his waist. "I'm just saying. It's like totally normal, and I don't want you to get all grumpy about it."

"Oh, I get grumpy, do I?" he asks as he leans over you. His large body envelopes yours on the mattress. He ducks down further to swallow your words up with kisses.

You hum into the exchange but pull back a little to finish your thought.

"Mhm, you do. And I just don't want you to feel that way cause I knew when we got together what I was getting into," you say.

Your confidence is so cute. You talk with absolute certainty, like you understand all there is to be understood about him. Like you'd known him forever and he hadn't been doing things like this for decades longer than you walked this earth.

His mouth crashes against yours again, his body weighing down on you and crushing you into the mattress. 

"You did, hm? You knew what you were getting into? You got with me thinking I wouldn't be able to give it to you how you need all the time?" he mutters against your skin.

"I didn't mean it like-"

"Didn't mean it like that? How'd you mean it then, sweetheart?"

"I dunno..."

"Doesn't sound like you knew what you were getting into to me," he breathes.

That little sentence that you'd said in an attempt to comfort him unlocked something between the two of you. He felt his cock waking up and pressing against his zipper, eager to get out and slide home. It's hard to register your clothes being pulled off when he's got his tongue in your mouth and his fingers playing with your clit. In no time at all, he's got the both of you bare and his cock nestled between your thighs.

Like he already knew, the issue last night had never been about lack of desire. And he intended to prove that to you, fuck you so good it wiped your memory of any placating word that fell from your lips.

He ruts into you hard. The mattress rocks on the bed frame and threatens to slide off. His dick is big and even though it's not a new sensation for you, each time you take it is a stretch. It's even more so when he pushes you up by the back of your knees. You whine as you're folded in half. His thrusts hit your sweet spot every time at this angle.

"Thought you knew what you were getting into?" he teases as he pistons himself in and out.

You mewl and bob your head, though you aren't sure if you're shaking your head or nodding.

"Fuckkkk, Logan. 'm sorry," you pant. Your walls squeeze tight around his shaft as your eyes close up. He made every part of your body contract and feel like it was moments from exploding.

He simply laughs at your apology. "Don't gotta be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just showing you what happens when I get older."

His balls hang heavy and swing with each motion, clapping against your ass. The heat between your legs is enough to make you squirm. Constant whimpers pour from your lips as he fucks into you without mercy.

"I know," you moan, "You fuck me better than anyone else."

"That's right," he grunts, "Nobody else could fuck you like this. Just me."

"Mhm, just daddy," you slur and cling onto him tighter. Your arms hook around his neck and keep his sweaty skin flush against yours.

"Just daddy," he repeats, his tone smooth like silk despite his raspy voice, "You don't need anyone else. Not when I can take care of you like this."

His tip prods at your cervix, making you yelp and buck. He doesn't stop though, just keeps battering into you, hammering into your warm, wet hole.

"You don't need any little boys thinking they know how to handle you," he breathes and nuzzles your neck, "Your old man can handle you just fine, make you cum whenever you need."

A strangled cry leaves your lips. Your nails dig into his back so hard that it seems like you wanted to draw blood. His words just make you melt for him. Reduce you down to a compliant jumble of flesh for him to mold and play with how he wants.

"Needa cum right now, daddy," you whine.

"I know you do, spoiled girl. You act so understanding, but I know that little pussy is aching to cum around my cock. To get filled up with my cum," he murmurs.

You nod wildly.

He chuckles at your eagerness and snaps against you even harder.

"Hold on tight, baby," he whispers.

His hips ricochet off your ass, clapping against you with intensity that borders on violent. You squeal and hang on as directed. Your whole body rocks with his momentum. Your head bobbles around like it's empty, which it is. Empty of everything but him.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck," you whimper.

"Let it out for me. Let me feel you burst, pretty girl," he grunts as he continues plowing into you.

Your body rolls. Your hips vibrate with the ecstasy release brings you. It crashes over you in one intense wave, like a gallon of liquid euphoria being poured over you. Your eyes flutter, and you bury your face in his neck like he has his in yours.

He fucks you through it. Coos in your ear too. "That's my baby. My sweet girl. Always sound so pretty when you're cumming."

One of your hands flies up to clutch at his thick, dark hair. Keeping him close keeps the words flowing.

"Getting so tight for me, fuck. No one can make me cum like you, honey. Drains me dry every fucking time."

Moments later he spurts into you, unloading thick ropes of his spend inside you. You let out another moan from that sensation alone. He growls and pants against your skin, his hands locking you in place as his hips pummel into your cunt and make sure every last drop has been released.

He lingers on you for a few moments before pulling out. His body feels loose in the afterglow. He stands at the edge of the bed and looks down at himself and then you. He knows he's gonna have to clean you up. Your inner thighs are shimmery with a mix of fluids, and the bush of dark hair at the base of his cock is in the same condition.

"Time to shower, baby?" he asks and pats your leg. You don't respond at first and he smirks. "Or did I tire you out too much?"

You whine something incoherent and shift to turn your face against the blankets. His smug look grows. He crawls over you again and nips at your jaw, rubbing his nose against your cheekbone.

"You know, it's ok, sweetheart. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's totally normal for pretty little things like you. I knew that going in."

His tone mimics your soft and understanding one from earlier. You make a little growl and swat at his bicep.

“Shut up, old man.”

[cakelitter]

Kiss It Better

Older! Leon x Fem! Reader

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warnings: daddy kink, p in v, oral (f receive), breeding kink, spanking, dirty talking, established relationship

words: 3.3k

a/n: hi hi!! no summary for this one cause... idk, a surprise? Reader is attention deprived, but I'd always be demanding more if di Leon was my bf like hello? (never shutting up about him) anw hope you enjoy!!

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Your boyfriend is mad at you.

And how does he decide to punish you? In the cruelest way possible, a way that he knows you’re not strong enough to handle.

Ignoring you.

Robbing you from his attention and validation, treating you like how you’d probably get treated on a daily basis with a guy your age.  

He has never been the type to give you attitude, or even raise his voice, but that does not mean that you go unscathed when you mess up. Right now, he is living his life like he normally does, well his life before he met you apparently. No pet names, no kisses, no “I love you”, not even looking at what you’re talking about and just replying with the most unenthusiastic hum he can muster up at literally everything you say.

“Daddy, look at this cute dog.”

“Hm.”

“How was work?”

“Hm.”

“I almost got ran over by a truck on the highway.”

“Hm.”

It’s pissing you off, and that’s exactly why he’s doing it. Figured out which buttons to push to get on your nerves, and is actively pushing every single one of them. You curl up on his side, wrapping your arm around his neck and place your head on his shoulder. And in return his eyes remained glued to the TV.

You’re going to cry, rip your hair out, and throw yourself off the balcony.

Worst part is that you actually apologized, not once, not twice, but three fucking times, and yet, it all falls to deaf ears. Why is he acting like you kicked homeless puppies or set an orphanage on fire?

Daddy is supposed to be forgiving, and he always has been; pulling you into a hug after each argument, kissing your face and all over your body till you feel better. But apparently daddy is under new management now, following a new set of policies that are getting in the way of your dire need for his attention.

The first day you realized that he’s ignoring you, you’d talk to him and he won’t respond, and if he did it was short and dry answers. Treating you like a persistent fly that just won’t leave him alone, the smile on his lips that was always present when he looked at you is now hid behind his cold gaze.

You tried cuddling, cracking a few jokes, and even started a conversation that you just ended up having with yourself. All of those strategies were met with the same result, nothing. It’s like someone took the man your loved and replaced him with a brick wall, devoid from any capabilities of forming emotional connections or any sort of bond for that matter.

On day two, you tried to make it harder for him to ignore you. Wearing the skimpiest clothes around the house, putting on his shirt with nothing underneath and even went the extra mile of spraying yourself with his perfume. You practically threw yourself over his lap, nuzzling into him and peppering kisses all over his rough stubble.

Nothing.

Actually, he did say something. “You’re blocking the TV.”  

Felt like a slap to the face, you stare at him for a bit hoping that he acknowledges your existence. Again, nothing. His dick is half hard beneath you, aching for your wet heat, and instead of making you ride his dick till you’re crying, he remains still. So now not only is he ignoring you, he’s ignoring his cock as well.

Fine then, the shirt is now off, you are sleeping in your shared bed fully naked and bare like the day you popped out into this world. Figured since Leon is stubborn, maybe he just had a high ego and is too embarrassed to break whatever promise he made to himself to ignore your pathetic attempts of winning him back.

He’ll walk in the room, find you basically giving him an invitation to touch you, waiting patiently in case he changed his mind, and fall right into your trap. A fool proof plan…

The number of times you’ve gotten clowned are getting embarrassing at this point.

Not only did he not do anything, he didn’t do as much as touch you the whole night. Sleeping on his side of the bed and leaving you in the same position you fell asleep in. The arms that would wrap around you during the night are missing, same goes to the hot breath that would fan out on the nape of your neck as you drift off to sleep. Again, cruel old man behavior.

And so, today marks day three without attention. You’ve lost your appetite, lost smell in your left arm, eyelid keeps twitching, haven’t been sleeping well, and you’ve become much irritable. This is getting out of hand; this man has no mercy for your soul. He might as well just shoot you in the leg instead and you’d accept that any day over what he’s doing right now.

You’ve considered just getting on your knees, intertwining your hands together and begging him to talk to you again. Usually, you are never this desperate for a man to talk to you, except for him. Leon has showered you with love every day since the two of you got together, his best and only girl, the apple of his eye, the sole reason he keeps going. You’ve gotten so accustomed to being his baby that it has become an innate need.

In the midst of your desperate attempts, you reach plan C. If it doesn’t work you’ll just give up and actually start acting like a normal fucking person for once, but god forbid things need to reach that point.

This time you don’t say a word to him, ignoring him the way he’s ignoring you. No good morning, no pleading, nothing.

You hop in the shower and then begin to get ready to go out. Your hair is done with extra effort today, and makeup is on point. Not sure if the outfit you’re wearing could be even classified as “clothes”. Cleavage on display, and ass almost hanging out of the miniskirt you have on.

It’s probably illegal to walk out dressed like that, a hazard to public safety. You might as well wear lingerie and call it a day; but believe it or not, that’s what you’re aiming for.

You can see Leon’s eyes look up from his laptop momentarily as you walk past him to go grab something from the other room, but just as you expected he minds his own business, going back to whatever he was doing.

That’s until you see his figure walk into your shared bedroom, leaning back on the door frame, watching you add some final touches to your makeup through the reflection of your vanity. You pretend like you didn’t see him, directing all your focus onto lining your lips.

“Where you going?” Ah, there it is, the first proper sentence he’s said in the past three days.  An achievement that surely deserves a celebration.

 This is what parents must feel like when their child speaks their first word. The child being a man in his late thirties and twice your size, but you digress. With your eyes remaining glued to your lips, you speak coldly. “Out.”

“Out where?”

“There’s this new club my friend wants us to check out together.”

“Which friend?” The look plastered on his face is hilarious; his eyes moving back and forth between yours and your poor excuse of a skirt. He seems worried, more for himself than for you, watching his faux confidence crumble in front of him.

“Won’t be gone for long, don’t worry.” You reply, closing your lip gloss and putting it back in your makeup bag while rubbing your lips together.

“I didn’t ask if you were going to be late or not, I asked which friend.” This tough demeanor doesn’t suit him, he’s clearly out of his element. Fixing his posture, he crosses his arms waiting for you to respond. “Does it matter, Leon?”

You dropped the bomb, letting his name slip out your lips instead of the D-word feels weird, borderline painful, but it had to be done. He goes quiet, your eyes too scared to look back at him through the mirror which has been serving as a way of communication between the two of you.

Can’t remember the last time you addressed him with his name, took you no longer than two weeks to start babbling daddy; his name long forgotten and dust collected in the back of your mind. He liked it, a name only you get to call him by, a trigger you pull causing him to immediately slip into the protective mental space, a space only reserved for you.

“Leon?”

You’re going to shit your pants this actually not even funny.

“Um, isn’t that your name?” Grabbing your purse, you give yourself a one final look over before walking towards the door. Your legs feel wobbly, never the type to start any of these kinds of petty situations. Usually all you have to do is flutter your lashes at him and he immediately gives you whatever you want, this time however he brought this onto himself.

Walking past him, you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your scalp, his energy feeling heavy. You feign confidence, walking slow, posture straight and hips swaying from side to side. Truthfully, you are fighting the urge to just book it and run as far as these heels can take you (not that far) before he does whatever is running through his mind.

You don’t even get to make it two steps away from the door before a hand yanks you back into the room, and throws you over his shoulder.

“Leon, I’m already late, put me down!” A loud smack echoes through the room as a stinging pain overtakes your senses. You yelp out, blood rushing over to the red handprint on your ass, heat spreading on the area.

Your back hits the plush mattress of the bed and within seconds he’s on top of you. His hand grabs one of your thighs spreading them wider as the other goes for your neck. Crashing his lips against yours, a groan escapes your lips, as his hips thrust against your core, hardened dick rubbing against your panty clad cunt.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that ‘friend’ of yours would be pissed.” His breath feels hot against your lips with each word that leaves his mouth. “What did I tell you about lying, baby?”

Should’ve known that lying doesn’t work on him, never did and never will. Has you memorized by heart, starting from your actions, reactions, and every thought that crosses your mind.

Reality is, there is no friend, and there is no new club. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, and making up a whole scenario was the only option you had left. “I’m sorry.”

His hand lands on your ass once again with a loud slap, your body jolts in pain as you bite your lip to suppress a whine. “Sorry what?”

“I’m sorry daddy.”

“Atta girl.” He coos, his hand rubbing against the burning skin, rewarding you with a sweet kiss. “See that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The cold air hits your nipples as he drags your top down, revealing your breasts too him. He gropes one, moving over and giving the stiff peak a firm pinch. “Why’d you lie sweetheart?”

Him and those fucking questions, can’t the interrogation wait till he fucked you? His hips continue rubbing against yours, the gusset of your panties is soaked with your arousal. “Wanted daddy’s attention.”

“Of course you did.” He chuckles lowly, eyes focused on your tits as he plays with them. A smile flashes across your lips, maybe your plan did work after all, not fully the way you intended it to; but it worked nonetheless.

His hands are on you, he’s speaking again, and his cock in near reach. Maybe life’s not so bad after all.

“I wouldn’t call this a win, sweetheart; think I might just play with these tits and leave you like this.” The smile that was once present on your glossy lips disappears, your heart drops at the possibility of him leaving you to deal with the aching between your thighs, again. It’s been three long rough days without his dick, he can’t be doing this to you.

“No, no, no please daddy, I’m sorry.” You shake your head from side to side, knots forming between your brows, hoping that your pleading is enough to convince him.

“Was actually going to apologize for being so mean to you lately, but after seeing you act like this… I don’t know, baby.”  You whine, head falling back down on the mattress below.

Frustrated, tears begin to brim in your eyes as your hands reach over and grab his muscular forearm. “I’m so sorry, daddy. I promise I won’t do it again.”

His eyes stare into yours, he stays quiet for a moment before his eyes soften. Dropping down, he places a kiss on your forehead, his thumb caressing the side of your cheek. “Pretty girl, I’m sorry too, shouldn’t have been so harsh with you.”

He presses another soft peck on your cheek, smiling at you warmly. Your heart begins to thump faster, your sadness dissipating with each passing moment. He’s back, you can’t tell of you feel good because the two of you made up, or because his hard cock is still rubbing against your wet heat.

“I need you.” you whisper, rubbing against his hand like a kitten. Chuckling, he nods and kisses you this time on the lips and it feels ten times sweeter than normal. Rubbing your sides, his hand slithers down to your clothed clit, rubbing soft circles, causing your back to arch.

“Think it’s about time to makeup it up for you, sweetheart.” You hum in agreement, capturing your bottom lip in a bite, and spreading your thighs even wider, inviting him to continue. His lips connect to the tender skin on your neck, kissing and biting down on it, your hands tangling between his soft locks and closing your eyes in pleasure.

Moving back, he admires his work momentarily before dropping down to his knees at the foot of the bed. Unzipping your skirt, he pulls the fabric down before tossing it somewhere behind him along with your soaked panties. Calloused hands snake the inside of your thighs, gentle caresses along with some gropes here and there.

His fingers spread your lips open, in awe at the view in front of him, your arousal evident and dipping down from your core like a waterfall, down to the sheets below. “Missed you too, baby. Daddy missed you so much.”

Those words are not for you, but for your cunt, addressing it like it’s his. An open-mouthed kiss gets placed on your clit, his blue eyes staring deeply into yours as he does so. The scene on its own is enough to make you cum.

Teasing you, he places a few more on your thighs; eyes not leaving yours for a minute. He rubs his cheek against the soft skin, the stubbled chin feeling prickly. Giving it the love and affection that it missed out on.

You wait patiently, letting him enjoy and take his time, basking in the heart warming feeling of it all. Like always, good behavior never goes unnoticed, and so he rewards you by pulling the hood of your clit back, and sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves, a satisfied groan vibrating through it amplifying the pleasure.

His skilled tongue makes out with your pussy, licking and fucking itself into you. Your moans fill the room, gripping the covers below you for dear life. Feeling your orgasm around the corner, but as soon as you notice his hips subconsciously thrusting into the footboard of the bed below, groans coming out of his busy lips, the knot in your stomach snaps immediately, causing your thighs to squeeze around his head as he holds your hips in place.

Placing your foot on his shoulder, you pull away from your core, the uncomfortable sensation of overstimulation taking over your senses. He moves back, stubble glistening in the mixture of your fluids and his spit.

He looks into your half-lidded eyes for a moment, his hand rubbing your thigh affectionately before kissing the inside of it. “So pretty, such a pretty girl.”

Your heart flutters, getting high on each love filled word he says. Grabbing his hand in yours, you pull him up towards you, connecting your lips in a kiss much more tender than he ones before. Lust and desire dissipating, replaced with the warm feeling of adoration. He pets your hair, leaving a final peck on your nose, causing you to giggle in response.

The mood however shifts again when you feel the imprint of his cock through his sweatpants; the familiar aching between your legs ignites once more, begging for him. “Daddy.”

“Right here.”

“Want you inside” He captures your bottom lip into a deeper kiss, his hands assisting yours in taking his pants off. Breaking the kiss, he fully removes them, revealing his thick cock to your desire filled eyes; the flushed pink tip, and the dollop of sticky precum begin to drip down the side of it.

He wraps his fist around it, pumping himself a few times, earning a sharp inhale out of the sensation. The head bumps against your clit, slapping against it a few times before guiding it down to your entrance. The two of you moan at the stretch, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. “So tight, sweetheart. Fucking meant for this dick.”

Your eyes flutter close, trying to compose yourself before you feel him begin to move. You can feel every inch and every vein inside your velvety walls. The aroma of sex over takes your senses as his thrusts begin to pick up speed.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, his fingers intertwine with yours as he slams into you, deep and speedy thrusts causing the bed to creak beneath your masses. “Take it, baby. Take it so daddy can fuck you full of his cum.”

Your walls pulsate around him, your hand squeezing his. “Want it.”

“Fuck, might knock you up sweetheart. Make you a mommy as an apology.” Your back arches, his voice bouncing off the walls inside your mind. You nod, biting down on your bottom lip, head empty and pussy gripping his length.

“Like that? Mark you as mine forever, pretty tight pussy all mine.” You wail, gripping onto his shoulders tightly, leaning back your head in attempts to stop yourself from being too loud. “Gonna keep you here all night, make sure that this sweet cunt takes it.”

Pleasure blinds your vision as you let go, your cum coating his dick as he begins to chase his own high. Your head lolls emptily to the side as he continues to fuck into you relentlessly, the head board hitting the wall behind it. Your tits bounce with each thrust, the image of you getting pumped full of Leon’s cum still evident in your mind.

His hips shudder as he releases inside of you, hot and sticky fluid accompanied by some curses and words of praise, earning a satisfied hum from you. Thrusting in a few more times, he admires the sight beneath him, distributing your fluids evenly.

He pulls out, flopping down next to you, as his arm wraps around your body, pulling your closer to his chest. Rough hands pet your hair, as he rests his chin on your temple, keeping your body warm next to his.

The two of you sit in silence momentarily trying to catch your breath. Your eyelids feel heavy, body completely worn out and satisfied as you start slipping away into a much-needed worry free rest, hearing your lover whisper something into your hair.

“Sorry for being mean, sweetheart. Daddy loves you.”

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divider by: @/floriseu

[604to647]

Brandy by the Fireplace

7.8K / Frankie Morales x City Girl!reader

Summary: When your best friend's boyfriend invites her up to the cabin he owns with his Delta Force buddies, she asks you to come along.

Warnings: None! Fluff! Insecurity and anxiety on reader's part, but Frankie makes it better (anxiety/comfort. My anxious girlies (gn) who think everyone hates them when they definitely don't? This one's for you 🥹). Nicknames because it's me. Oh, and Tom's alive?

A/N 1: Written and very late for @auteurdelabre's Trope Off Challenge - the trope here is Fish out of water because, well you know🤭🤭 Can be considered a Triple Frontier AU, or set before the events of the movie. Though I'm not sure I'm 100% satisfied with this and the word count got away from me, I still think it's cute and very seasonal - I hope others do too!

A/N 2: As I understand it, the cottage v. cabin lexiconic difference is a Canadian thing. When people think of cottage country, it's primarily the luxury getaway experience in the Muskokas. Super fancy! Celebrities cottage there (the Beckhams, Cindy Crawford) and the properties are huge lakefront estates. While in Western Canada, people primarily have cabins - they're more rugged, remote. In no way am I saying that cottages are better than cabins! They are just different - both enjoyable and picturesque in their own way. But you gotta know what you're in for, cause of packing and stuff... 😅😅

Trailer / CABIN dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘😘

This was such an effing mistake.

You sniffle as you sit cross-legged on the simple threadbare sheets covering the thin mattress that you’ve called bed for the last two nights.  You’re holding your favourite fleece sweater in your hands, looking at the scorch marks where flareups from tonight’s bonfire had jumped from the pit and burned multiple holes - the black charred spots on the fabric blurring as your tears finally spill over.

I shouldn’t have come.

A ruined sweater in and of itself wasn’t the end of world.  But a ruined sweater here? Tonight? It’s just the freaking cherry on top of the already disastrous sundae that was this weeklong vacation so far.

And you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself.

When your best friend Jenny begged you to come with her to her boyfriend’s cabin for a week, you had readily agreed.  You love Benny and he and Jenny are so adorable, if not a bit too overly mushy and cheesy (“We’re the better Bennifer!  Woo - Benny and Jenny!!”).  He and his old army buddies had gone in together on a cabin on a lake about seven hours out of the city at the suggestion of their Veterans Affairs therapist – something about working the land and finding serenity in nature to help them overcome some of the harder things they’ve seen over their time in service.

It apparently did wonders for them.  Both Benny and his older brother, Will, who you had met a few times, were easy going and kind men - maybe a little rough and tumble with each other sometimes, but you didn’t see it as anything more than filial comradery and brotherly love.  Jenny assured you that Benny’s other friends, Santi, Tom and Frankie were all cut from the same cloth.

Benny had invited Jenny up to the cabin for the boys’ annual Autumn weeklong trip – taking advantage of any remaining mild weather from the end of summer to clean and close up the cabin for the Fall and Winter.  All the boys would be there and Tom’s sisters had been invited as well – Jenny begged you to come for support and of course you had said yes.

Sure, you’re a city girl through and through, but this wouldn’t be your first cottaging experience.  You fondly recall the summers and Thanksgivings you had been invited to your college roommate’s family cottage in the Muskokas: crystalline waters and lush greenery bordered the beautifully landscaped acreage upon which your still close friend’s family’s 9 bedroom-9 bath modern estate resided.  Summer days were wiled away on the built-in dock lounging and reading, and the cooler temperature evenings were spent inside by one of the several contemporary fireplaces, sipping on cocktails and nibbling on charcuterie.  It was always such a treat to go - you haven’t visited in ages, but a similar getaway right now sounds like heaven.

Your first clue that perhaps this might not be the Muskoka cottage country experience you imagined, is when the last leg of your seven-hour journey in Benny’s truck was over a 30-minute dirt road so twisty and uneven that you started to feel a little nauseous. 

When you got out of the truck, you realized the true folly of your assumptions about where you were going to be staying this week.  The property could best be described as rustic and very "nature forward", the only evidence of landscaping being the dirt worn paths that led to the different cabins.  Instead of one main house, there is a Main Cabin – consisting of a living room area, place to eat, kitchen and the compound’s one bathroom.  All guests stay in individual cabins, isolated and spaced out at various points on the large property. Each so far apart and separated by the lush, dense forest, you don't even know where they all are: Upper Cabin (Benny and Jenny), Delta Cabin (Santi), Bunk Cabin (Frankie), Screened-In Veranda Cabin (You), New Cabin (Tom’s Sisters), Outhouse Cabin (no one), Grizzly Cabin (Will and Tom).

You’re not opposed to roughing it a little, but by the error of your own expectations, you’ve come thoroughly unprepared for your week’s stay.  For one thing, your cabin (as the name would suggest), along with all the others, has no windows - only screens.  Perfect for the hot summers, but with Fall coming early this year, the clothes you packed aren’t warm enough to shield you against the chill that blows over your bed each night.  For another, you find yourself sharing space with more critters that you were expecting, and not the adorable furry types either.

The frog that came out of the one toilet made you almost consider using the outhouse up by the parking lot (almost). And when you were washing your face that first night, the realization that the running tap was the only thing that was keeping the cricket from jumping out of the sink, forced you to stifle a scream that left your throat hoarse. There are all together more bugs indoors than you had expected (since you had expected windows). 

It's definitely more rustic that you’re used to, but you really do try to make the best of it.  The last thing you want is to appear rude or snobbish about the decidedly non-luxurious state of your accommodations.  Sure, it isn’t the glamourous cottage experience you had expected, but it’s still incredibly beautiful and serene here.  Moreover, you know that every cabin and amenity on the property was built by Benny and his friends and has served incredible therapeutic purpose for each of them.  You would never want to diminish that by somehow implying that the cottage isn’t… cottaging; this place serves a much more important purpose than impressing the likes of city girls guests like you.

You also don’t forget that the entire reason you’re here is to support Jenny.  Make sure she and Benny have fun.  And they are! Inseparable, giddy, googly-eyed fun.  No way are you going to ruin her perfectly good time by letting her worry about you, not when this is the first healthy relationship she’s had in years.

And honestly, everyone is so, so nice.  Benny and Will’s Delta Force teammates are as good humoured and sweet as they are.  There’s Santiago (or Santi), the unofficial leader of the crew – his hooded brown eyes look like they could tell a hundred stories, but he keeps your group entertained with the loudest and most fantastic ones, always framing his stories so that they rib at least one of his buddies.  Tom, the eldest of the friends, is more serious – the type who might exude an intimidating gravitas if you were to meet him alone, but next to the verbose energy of Benny and Santi and under the watchful eye of his sisters, he seems to relax, smiling pleasantly and genuinely while in the comforting presence of his friends.  Will, who is just as boyishly handsome as his brother, you already know to be as easy going and funny - though maybe a little less goofy than Benny.  Despite what Jenny had slyly insinuated to you before you left, you don’t think Will has any interest in you – and with Tom’s gorgeous and outgoing sisters both vying for his attention, the circumstances aren't right to try and see if there’s anything to Jenny's (and possibly Benny’s?) matchmaking. 

The last member of the friend group is Frankie, who the guys sometimes inexplicably call ‘Catfish’ – he was noticeably reserved at first, though you soon realize that he’s just as funny and generous as the others.  Frankie's steely and calm countenance seems borne out of necessity, likely from the many years of service where his competence and levelheadedness were needed to keep the other four in check, alive.  You notice that he often sits a little further back from the group, most likely out of habit, literally watching their backs; he’s quieter and less rowdy, but never fails to join in his friends’ laughter – it’s obvious to you that he loves his brothers in arms.  Once or twice, you think you feel Franke's deep, soulful eyes pointed in your direction, but when you try to meet his gaze, those same eyes disappear beneath the brim of his worn Standard Oil cap that never seems to leave his head.  You think you probably imagine it. 

Everyone is so much fun to be around, super nice and completely welcoming of you.

They just… don’t really need you here.  Well, that seems presumptuous!  Rather, there doesn’t seem to be a place for you here the same way there is for everyone else.

It was evident from the first day when the boys pulled a small catamaran out of the boathouse and attempted to try (again, from what you’re told) to put it together and get it out on the water.  Every person was asked to help pull on the trampoline netting – when it was evident that your limited strength and poor (manicured) grip on the netting wasn’t actually doing anything except making you an extra body in the way, you were relegated to standing on the side, holding a spray can of lubricant and waiting to spray it on the track if someone needed.  No one ever did.  The trampoline never got installed, and you can’t help but think it was partially because you hadn’t been able to provide the additional muscle needed.

During the day, everyone seems to engage in some type of cabin maintenance work from an unseen to-do list: painting screens, sanding down the canoe, pulling up old raspberry bushes, fixing doors and hinges in various cabins, retiling the one shower and installing a new sliding glass door, replacing the hot water pump’s aging parts, reinforcing the mesh around the young fruit trees to deter deer, repairing the older slats on the dock, removing the beaver dam under the dock, and so on and so forth.

All things you have absolutely no qualifications to help with and would likely hinder someone who did if you tried.

Jenny wasn’t terribly handy either, but she tagged along with Benny on all his chores and he didn’t mind patiently explaining and helping her help him with his tasks - the two of them giggling and in love as they winterized the boat shed.

Everyone else seems to know their daily assignments and go about their hard and dirty labour, leaving you alone to… do nothing?  It felt rude to sit out on the lawn and relax while others did work around you.  And even inside there's not much you can do; Tom’s sisters had brought up food for the first few meals and when you asked them if you could help, they insisted that they had it in hand and told you to “go have fun”.  You chastise yourself for having not asked more questions about what you and Jenny could have brought and if you and her could have signed up to cook your share of meals.

You hide out in the Main Cabin or in your own for most of the day, reading and feeling guilty - coming down periodically to chat with people but feeling like you’re distracting them from their duties.

Even after dinner when you volunteered to help do the dishes and clean-up, you were cheerfully shooed away by Santi after you couldn’t find where to put back the cutlery, then the glasses, then the lids to the pots (which were inexplicably kept separate from the pots themselves) – you’re sure there’s a system, you just don’t know what it is.

Maybe it would be different if you knew everyone better, but this is the first time you’re meeting everyone except Benny and Will.  You don’t know any of the guys particularly well but you do know that this cabin is their special place – you don’t want be a bother or ruin anyone’s good time.

To you, it's clear that you’re not carrying your weight here - the last thing you want to be is a nuisance as well. You don’t fit in and you definitely don’t belong. 

Tonight has finally felt a little more comfortable.  After a full day of work for everyone (else) and a belly bursting dinner, the boys set up a bonfire and everyone got together to roast marshmallows and make s'mores.  In addition to looking forward to the melty treats, you were secretly glad for the warmth of the fire in the chilly evening air.  Beers were cracked, marshmallows burnt, and the stories the boys told had your sides aching from so much laughter you’re sure you’ll still feel it in the morning.  But as the fire was dying, the conversation turned to what everyone’s up to tomorrow, you once again have nothing to say that's comparable to the tasks and chores listed by the others.  When Tom comments that there are still so many things to do in order to properly winterize the cabins and that it’ll be a wonder if it all gets done, you look down at your feet - face burning from the guilt and shame of being unable to contribute when help is indeed needed.  You’re sure everyone is thinking that you’re just a freeloader from the city, or worse, lazy and unwilling to put in some work.  Suddenly the last few bites of the s'more in your hand don’t look as appetizing anymore.

You excuse yourself from the group and quickly get ready for bed before heading up to your cabin for the night.  Once settled in, that’s when you discover that your sweater is full of newly burnt holes and you lose it.

Luckily, the cabins are all fairly far apart so no one can hear your crying, but your gratitude for the isolation and quiet of the cabins is short-lived; as it's been every night, the silence of the woods in the dark is deafening.  So used to the ambient noise of the city, you find that every snap of a branch or hoot of an owl slices through the night and rings out as loud as a gunshot.  You lay in bed like each night before, unable to get comfortable or calm and falling asleep only when exhaustion overtakes you.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of chirping birds and the brightness of the morning sun punctuated by the shouts and loud chatter from down near the water where people are already starting their daily chores.  Another wave of guilt and anxiety sets in as you feel like you’ve had an undeserved lie-in - resting while everyone else got up early to do work.

On your way down to the Main Cabin, you see and wave good morning to Frankie who’s transporting relatively heavy chunks of wood tucked under his beefy arms.  You don’t ask if you can help – how could you? Each stump he carries looks like it could topple you over even if you managed to lift one. 

When you get down to the lawn, you catch Will and Tom’s sisters as they head up to one of the cabins with paint cans and brushes and Will cheerily calls to you, “Saved you some breakfast!”  His completely innocent and kind pronouncement sends your already tightly strung heart into another spiral and you try not to tear up as you call back your thanks.

You eat by yourself from the plates left out for you and feel a little better when you can at least wash them and leave them in the drying rack.  Pouring yourself the coffee that’s left in the cannister, you grimace at it’s lukewarmness, but you don’t know where the grounds are kept or even how to operate the ancient stovetop coffee maker to make more, so you make do and drink it sort of sadly as you return to the dining table and open your book.

It's here where Frankie finds you a few hours after you saw him last.

He asks kindly after your book before saying he’s going to make a fresh pot of coffee and offers to top you off; when you get up to help – he tells you he’s got it before disappearing into the kitchen.  Slightly discouraged, you sit back down; unless you spy on Frankie, there’s no way for you to learn how to make the coffee here - and you’re just debating if you should do just that when he pokes his head back in, “Do you want me to show you how to make the coffee?”

Eagerly, you nod and hurry to join him in the kitchen, making note of where the fresh coffee grounds are stored and listening attentively as Frankie patiently shows you how to work the vintage contraption that Santi rescued from a yard sale.  He smiles at your willing face, wondering why you’re so fascinated by something as mundane as their overly complicated coffee maker, but when you thank him, voice almost quivering with overly emotional gratitude, Frankie’s sure there’s more to it than he’s understanding.

He's been watching you, Benny’s girlfriend pretty friend, over the last two days and can't quite figure you out.  It’s clear that you’re not used to roughing it in these types of conditions, but you don’t complain or make fun – though there is a tinge of melancholy and anxiety to the gentleness of your expressions that he does understand all too well.  You seem sweet and friendly, and Benny certainly speaks warmly of you – but for some reason, you don’t seem entirely comfortable and Frankie wouldn’t be the Army strategist he is if he didn’t notice.  Or a very good host.

“Do you want to go for a row while the coffee drips?”

“A row?”  You look up, confused.

“Yeah, in the row boat.  Come on – this old thing takes forever. We could probably get a good way to the middle of the lake and head back before it’s done,” nods Frankie, encouragingly.

This is the first time since the disastrous catamaran trampoline that anyone has asked you to do anything with them during the day, and you’re surprised by how touched you are by the simple gesture.  Unable to find the words to express how appreciative you feel, you simply nod.

Frankie pushes the old tin boat that you saw him sealing and painting on the beach yesterday partway into the water, helping you in first before pushing the boat all the way in then jumping in himself, two big wooden oars under his arm.  He sits across from you, locks the oars into the oarlocks and starts rowing; his powerful arms rotating the paddles with ease, slicing them through the clear, calm water and gently gliding the boat across the lake.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, and you look over the side of the boat in wonder as the sand bed below slowly disappears and the water gets darker and deeper.  Sighing, you contently breathe in the fresh, crisp Fall air and enjoy the picturesque view of the far off shores and mountains before settling your gaze on the handsome man in front of you.  The ripples and flex of Frankie’s bulging muscles under his shirt as he expertly rows are near mesmerizing, every hypnotic stroke powerful and purposeful.

“You’re not having fun, are you?”

You look up, ashamed.  You've been trying so hard to hide that you're not 100% comfortable being here, it's embarrassing to get confirmation that you've failed in this regard.  Even if the others could tell you weren’t having fun, you hope you haven’t come off as an ungrateful guest or made any of your hosts feel bad.  You’re about to say so and apologize, but something about the way Frankie’s looking at you, kind and soft and not at all judgmental or accusatory, gives you pause.  It’s like he’s genuinely extending an opportunity for you to let go of what you’ve been bottling up since you got here – maybe that’s why he brought you out to the middle of the lake?  Frankie's sincere eyes bore into your own and his gentle demeanor invites you to let down your guard; deflating, you burst into tears, “I’m not!! I’m so sorry, Frankie!!”

Hurriedly, you try to compensate, “Goodness, please don’t think I’m complaining – it’s so beautiful and peaceful here, and Benny told me how much effort you guys have put into this place!  Honestly, your care and hard work really shows – everything is so nice.  It’s just really, really different from the one other cottage experience I’ve had – so I didn’t even pack right.  And I thought there would be a lot more relaxing and lazing around – I really don't know what to do with myself here.”

“Where did you cottage before?”

“The Muskokas?”

Frankie lets out such a loud, belly-shaking laugh that shakes the whole boat; you actually hold onto the sides afraid you might tip over, but find yourself beaming at having drawn out this melodic sound from the normally stoic man.

“Well, City Girl, no wonder this place was a shock to you!  The Muskokas is a very particular cottaging experience – real pretty and real glamourous.  But the rest of us?  What we have aren’t even cottages.  They’re cabins.  This is cabin country,” he laughs good naturedly.

“Right - cabins!” you grin.

“Sorry to disappoint you, City Girl.”

“No, no! Please don’t think that - I’m not disappointed at all! I just came in with the wrong expectations, that’s all.  That’s all on me, Frankie.  Really, the cabin is lovely – I was just expecting a more… cashmere sweaters and brandy snifters around the fireplace kind of a vibe.”  You hope Frankie won’t take your joke the wrong way.

Luckily, Frankie gives you another easy smile, one that reveals an adorable dimple in his right cheek you haven’t had a chance to notice before, “Yeah, we’re more of a bats in the ceiling, on-going maintenance kind of vibe.”

At this, your face falls and your own shortcomings to contribute when everyone else is working so hard claws at your chest painfully.

Frankie immediately clocks the change in your demeanor, “Hey, pretty girl, it’s okay.”

You look up at him with tears in your eyes, too distressed to notice the new nickname, “No it’s not, Frankie.  You’re right – everyone is chipping in, helping out to keep this place beautiful and running smoothly, except me.  I’m not used to this kind work, so I don’t really know what needs to get done… and even if I did… I mean you saw with the catamaran?  I’m not strong or skilled enough to do any of it.  I thought I could help out with some of the indoor stuff, like cooking and cleaning up, but I don’t know where anything is and everyone is so busy, I feel like such a nuisance bothering them even more in order to show me.  So… I don’t know what I’m doing here – it doesn’t feel right to be sitting around and reading like I’m some kind of pampered houseguest while everyone around me is working, but I also don’t think I can add value anywhere.  I just don’t think I belong out here with you guys.  And I thought I was at least hiding it well, but it's obviously noticeable how much I don’t fit in because you rowed me out here to confront me about it.  I’m sorry to be so much trouble, Frankie.”

You take a deep breath after your long speech and look down at your lap, more embarrassed than ever.

Frankie leans over from his seat, causing the boat to rock slightly and tilts your face up to his with two of his thick fingers, “You’re no trouble at all, pretty girl.  It’s okay if this place is too rustic for ya.  It’s really rustic… and that’s by design.”  He smiles reassuringly, keen to comfort you, “I know Benny told you that this cabin is sort of therapy for us guys?  We saw some... less-than-ideal things on a lot of our missions.  All our missions, actually.  The VA counsellors suggested that we try and work through having seen so much that’s been broken, and maybe even having done some of the breaking ourselves, by getting a project where we come together as a team to focus on improving and building.  It’s meant to need constant ongoing maintenance and have a never-ending list of chores so we can put our energy into building up instead of what we used to do… tearing down.  For the most part, the cabin has been good for us – working with our hands, being responsible for something that isn’t life or death, working towards a common goal where we can be together and enjoy each other’s company in a setting that’s not… exploding.”

Frankie chuckles at his little joke so not to scare you off with the intensity of the topic.  He’s relieved to see that your expression is one of sympathy and understanding, your eyes warm and gentle.  He thinks your eyes are beautiful, deep, kind – he might easily get lost in them if he didn’t remember that he’s supposed to be comforting you, “It really is meant for the five of us to be putting in the work, but I know what you’re saying, it’s not a great feeling to be left out, even if you know no one’s doing it on purpose.  I’m sorry – we should be better hosts.  You’re our guest.”

You start to shake your head in protest at this, but Frankie stops you when he picks up the oars and dips them back in the water to start rowing again, “Tell you what, it’s my turn to make lunch today - why don’t you come and help me.  I’ll show you where we keep everything so you’ll know in case you ever want to… help out in the kitchen again.  I promise you can ask me any questions you want and it won’t bother me at all.”

Perking up at Frankie’s generous offer, you nod happily, “Okay! Thank you, Frankie – that’s really sweet of you.”  It’s probably the first truly joyful smile you’ve smiled since you got here and Frankie thinks you look radiant.

The two of you glide slowly across the still lake in comfortable silence, Frankie purposefully not putting too much power into his oar strokes.  Trying to discreetly wipe your cheeks, you feel their warmth as you spy on the handsome man across from you through your tear dotted lashes.  You feel so safe and cared for - your heart grateful that Frankie noticed you were out of sorts despite having only met you a few days ago and was considerate enough to ask after you.

His teasing voice cuts through your thoughts, “Is there anything else, City Girl?”

“Hmmmmm?”

“Is there anything else that's been bothering you while you’re out here?”

You bite your lip and shake your head; Frankie has been so kind, you don’t want to push it and appear to complain.

“Come on, I know there is.  Go on, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl – there’s that term of endearment again.  This time when you hear it, your heart swells and your face flushes – and maybe your thighs press together a little, too.  To try and cover up your reaction, you spill your last embarrassing grievance, “Ummmm… it’s kind of spooky at night.”

Frankie booms another side-splitting, deep rumble of a laugh and you instantly feel better, “It’s just sooooo quiet and everyone is so far from one another.  I guess I’m used to background city noises and the feeling of people being around.  It's been a bit unsettling laying in the dark in silence, hearing every little twig snap.” You cover your eyes, “Plus I packed so poorly for the trip because I thought it was going to be a… cottage.  I definitely didn’t bring warm enough clothes.  I brought a TON of self-care stuff though – maybe I should try layering some face masks.” It feels so good to be able to lightheartedly make fun of yourself again.

Frankie laughs with you, then looks thoughtful, “Ok, ok, the chilliness I think I can help you out with.  The spookiness… got to circle back to that.”

“Thanks, Frankie.”  You mean it sincerely.  Even having been able to talk to him about your unease makes you dread the upcoming night a lot less.

Back at the beach, Frankie hops out of the boat and reaches in to help you out - when your fingers touch his, a little spark lingers and your heartbeat picks up a bit.  Hand in hand, the two of you walk back to the Main Cabin together, not letting go until you enter the kitchen.

---

After Frankie patiently shows you the pantry, the freezers, and where all the kitchen items are, he makes sure you have a passing familiarity with everything before the two of you make wraps for everyone.  You find him to be endearingly funny, terribly sweet, and a wonderful conversationalist – Frankie tells you about his work and adventures as a charter pilot, and listens intently as you answer his questions about your work and life in the city.  You almost regret calling everyone in for lunch, but the feeling of being able to offer people something after their morning of hard work has brightened your spirits significantly - it feels like a tremendous weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

You don’t know that the obvious change in your countenance fills Frankie with pride and joy, nor do you see the way he gazes at you with fondness as you cheerfully hand out the wraps or when you jump up after lunch is over and hurry to clear the table.

The next day, you’re returning from a solo walk along the trail that runs behind the cabins on the bay, when you come upon an unfamiliar noise as you approach the boys’ property. 

It sounds like a loud and sharp sudden crack accompanied by a low manly grunt, then followed by a couple of softer thuds.  The echoing combination repeats it self at slightly varying intervals and gets progressively louder until you come upon its source.

From behind a large Spruce tree, you see that it’s Frankie chopping wood.

Frankie repeatedly brings his axe down on the log pieces he’s set up on the chopping block with precision and power.  His sweat soaked shirt is stretched taut across his broad back, the damp fabric doing nothing but accentuate the thick muscles that flex and contract with every burly movement.

Though Frankie’s breathing is heavy, you can tell he isn’t even close to being winded - his strength and rugged athleticism evident by the way he relentlessly labours on, splitting log after log.

Every subsequent swing of the axe captivates you further; a wetness pools in your mouth that you have to force yourself to swallow, lest it spill over and you get caught drooling.

"Wanna give me a hand, City Girl?"

Shit.

Emerging from behind what you now realize looks like a hiding spot, you give Frankie a sheepish smile, “Oh, ummm… you look like you have it pretty well handled.  Not sure if I could even make a dent in one of those logs.”

Frankie takes off his signature cap and uses the back of the same hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead - he chuckles and his eyes twinkle, “Could you help me gather and stack the wood I split onto that rack over there?  And bring me new logs to chop from that other pile there?”

You nod enthusiastically.  Frankie’s making work for you and you’re so thankful and excited to help.

For the next hour, you run around gathering the firewood that Frankie splinters and set him up with fresh logs.  When you apologize that it takes you so long to carry the larger rounds to him, he tells you not to worry – it gives him a chance to catch his breath and take a much-needed rest.  You don’t tell Frankie that he doesn’t look like he needs any rest at all – your own quickened breaths have very little to do with physical exertion and more to do with ogling Frankie’s broad and brawny frame, and the way the entirety of his strapping body is thrown into each axe swing, every muscle engaged, tensed.  It’s similar to the way he looked when he effortlessly rowed the two of you in the tin boat across the lake, but like… a hundred times more burly.

You try to distract yourself from openly drooling at Frankie’s sweat soaked torso by expertly arranging the firewood on the rack so that it fits perfectly together like a Tetris puzzle.  When the last piece has been placed on top, Frankie marvels that the firewood storage has never looked more organized and with one hand still holding on to his axe, he takes your soft hand in his other and leads you down to lunch.

Over the next couple of days, you notice that Frankie goes out of his way to make sure you’re not alone or hiding out in any of the cabins.

He takes you out in Benny’s truck to run in-town errands like picking up additional groceries or getting gas for the boat.  These trips are always filled with fun and easy conversation and end with a treat at the ice cream shop on the main road.  Frankie teases you on how you always flit from freezer to freezer, determined to try a flavour you’ve never had, and you groan at how he sticks to his tried-and-true mint chocolate chip.

You’re getting bolder at offering to do the indoor, more domestic tasks and chores that you know you have the skills to handle like making meals and cleaning up; more often than not, without you asking, Frankie will join you in the kitchen.  Even though you tell him to relax and that he deserves rest after his physical exertions of the day, Frankie stays and hangs out - casually drying dishes, tasting your sauces, leaning his massive figure against the counter and discreetly pointing to various cabinets and drawers when you forget where things go.

Frankie makes you laugh with his quippy jokes and clever little observations, and he makes your cheeks warm with his subtle and sweet flirting.  But mostly, he makes you feel so included, relaxed and accepted – his kindness at having taken you under his wing and giving priority to your comfort and enjoyment at the cabin makes your heart positively sing. 

Since the day he took you out on the rowboat, Frankie has come to visit you in the Screened-In Veranda cabin every night.  The first night, it’s to bring you extra blankets and one of his thick hoodies – all of it you accept gratefully; he also brings a pack of playing cards and the two of you play Big Two until you can barely keep your eyes open. Making sure you're bundled up in his hoodie, Frankie leaves you to sleep under a comically thick stack of blankets and happily swathed in his manly musk.

The next night, he brings you an old worn box of Rummy-O, explaining that he and the boys try to buy old games from garage sales to bring up to the cabin, even ones they’ve never played before.  You’ve never played either, and for the next few nights, you and Frankie spread the tiles over your bedspread and become Rummy-O experts, stopping only when you’re too tired to keep playing - then and only then does Frankie leave you before traipsing back to his own cabin.

Embarrassingly, it takes you until tonight to figure out what he's up to.

“I know what you’re doing,” you grin in the dimly lit cabin as Frankie dons a Korean face mask and lets you give him a cuticle oil treatment.

“I’m getting pampered,” Frankie murmurs from where he lays, careful not to move his face lest the sheet mask slips.

“You’ve been keeping me company every night until I get sleepy so I don’t have to lie here in the dark and be scared,” you look at him warmly, in awe of this tender-hearted man’s goodness.

You see one eye open in the eye hole cut-out of the mask and the corners of the one for the mouth tug up a little, “Has it been working?”

“Yes and thank you.  And I think your hoodie and the blankets you brought really helped too – the nights feels way cozier now.”

“Good.  I’m glad.  Now do you have anything that’s going to help with these bags under my eyes?”

You cackle, sure that the sound of your and Frankie’s joint laughter must carry clear across the lake.

It’s the last night at the cabin and the whole group is out tonight for another bonfire.  You’re nice and snug in Frankie’s hoodie, giggling with Jenny, who you feel like you’ve barely seen this whole week – she fills you in on all eight hundred of the adorable things Benny has done for her this week and you’re over the moon seeing her so completely in love.  The entire group is in great spirits, toasting to another successful season at the cottage, all the shared memories, new and old stories to tell, and the delicious food eaten over this week.  Your dinners for the latter half of the week are praised, and when you bury your face in the oversized sleeves of Frankie's hoodie in embarrassment, you feel his strong arm curl proudly around your shoulders and you positively kvell. 

The drinks flow liberally tonight with no one needing to wake up early and the only chore on anyone’s list being packing.  About halfway through tonight’s bonfire, Frankie slips away from the group; everyone is too caught up in their own conversations to notice it, but you immediately miss having his comforting presence close by.  You’re just about to ask Jenny for the tea on why Tom’s sisters seemed to be giving Will the cold shoulder when you hear Frankie’s dulcet baritone low in your ear, “Hey, City Girl, can I show you something?”

Getting up, you leave the others at the bonfire and follow Frankie back into the Main Cabin.  He ushers you towards the main living room and when you enter, the sight that greets you stops you in your tracks with a gasp.  The darkened room is lit bright and warm from the fire that Frankie’s laid in the fireplace, the flames crackling slow and calm – he must have been stoking it for a while.  In front of the glowing fire is a little carpeted area with cushions arranged purposefully to create a makeshift sitting area.  In the middle sits two brandy snifters filled with an amber gold liquid.

“Frankie, what’s all this?” you exclaim, eyes bright as you turn to look at the handsome, affectionate man who brought you here.

Gesturing for you to sit down in front of the gently roaring fire and handing you one of the glasses as you settle in, Franke shyly explains, “Wasn’t able to swing any cashmere sweaters, but I wanted to give you your brandy by the fireplace cottage experience.”

Rendered speechless by how cute and thoughtful Frankie is - all you can do is give him a doe-eyed look of awe as you sip the liquor he managed to procure.  For you.

“Thank you, Frankie.  This is perfect.  But if I’m being honest, I’ve quite warmed up to the cabin experience,” you tease.

“Good,” the tenor of Frankie’s voice is warm with the undercurrent of what’s not yet been spoken out loud.

As you both enjoy your fireside libations, you joke and flirt, keeping the conversation light - somehow tip-toeing around what’s happening between the two of you.  Your bodies, though, pay your shyness no mind, inching closer and closer until you’re practically in Frankie’s lap.  The conversation grows quieter as words are replaced by looks of longing and want until all you seem to be doing is studying the dark and rough lines of Frankie’s face, the plushness of his lips, the adorable heart shaped patch in his facial scruff.

With one final sip of brandy, the soothing burn of the liquor down your throat gives you that final push of liquid courage and you drop your gaze from Frankie’s soft chocolate brown eyes down to his waiting mouth.  Not so innocently, you lick you lips at the sight.

Then Frankie is on you, crashing his lips to yours – the empty snifters rolling away on the carpet as you pour yourself into his mouth, open wide and inviting.  This first kiss is nothing short of sensual and desperate, the feelings that have been simmering over the past week boiling over until you’re both a mess of tongues, moans and clashing teeth.

“Oh Frankie,” your soft whimpers a welcomed song to his ears, Frankie returns your sentiments by licking behind your teeth, exploring and stroking into your receptive mouth with a fiery passion.  His hands maneuver you to straddle him so that he can better feel you, roaming your back until one hand comes to a rest at the nape of your neck, the other under one of the pert globes of your ass, using them as leverage to press you flush against his chest.

As your hands go to run through Frankie’s soft waves, you knock his favourite cap onto the ground and you giggle loudly when it lands near the now forgotten brandy snifters with a little thud.  Frankie feels himself harden at the melodic sound.

You make out like teenagers, tongues dancing and teeth nibbling until you both run out of air and have no choice to break apart, panting.

“Been wanting to do that since I saw you your first day here, City Girl,” admits Frankie, eyes tender and sincere as he rests his forehead against yours.

Leaning in to lightly peck his lips, you’re surprised but can’t help teasing, “What took you so long, Morales?”

Frankie chuckles, though his eyes flash with a bolt of insecurity, “Wasn’t sure you would want to.  Benny said something about how he wanted to try and set you up with Will.”

Your face scrunches up with astonishment - so Jenny wasn’t just being facetious!  But you quickly cup Frankie’s face and run your thumbs reassuringly through his adorable scruff, “I don’t know anything about that.  But what I do know is that I can’t resist a kind hearted, handsome man who goes out of his way to take care of me, never judges me and makes me feel comfortable without pushing me to be someone I’m not.  You, Frankie – I can’t imagine wanting anyone but you to kiss me.”

Taking this as the invitation it is, Frankie slots his mouth over yours once more.  This second kiss is slower, deeper, and full of promise.  You sigh as Frankie’s tongue slides over yours in a slow and intimate waltz and his lips find yours again and again and again.

“Querida,” he murmurs, “when we get back to the city, can I take you out to dinner?”

Grinning at having earned yourself another nickname, you tuck yourself into the nook under Frankie’s chin and press one, two, three soft kisses to his neck while nodding, “I’d love that, Frankie.”

The next morning you wake up well rested, with a strong arm banded over your body and Frankie’s hard chest pressed up against your back.  Slipping slowly back to consciousness, you can’t help but smile as the memories of the previous night come flooding back.  Frankie came back up to your cabin with you and stayed to keep you company as he had the previous nights, but instead of games or spa treatments, he kept you awake with the hard and soft kisses of his expert mouth and innocent touches that by the end of the night, didn’t feel quite so innocent anymore.  Lips swollen after hours of making out, Frankie had tucked in with you under the covers and held you close, lulling you to sleep with evenness of his breathing and the soothing rise and fall of his chest.  Rolling over, you find Frankie already slowly blinking awake, “Good morning, City Girl.  Did you sleep okay?”

You nod into his shoulder, “Slept perfect, Frankie.  Coziest night here with my own personal furnace.”

Frankie chuckles, “I like waking up with you like this, pretty girl.  Like seeing you wearing my clothes, too.”

Shyly, you gaze into Frankie’s eyes, heart beating faster at his look of adoration, “I like it too, Frankie.  Waking up with you, wearing your clothes.”

After some tender and sweet kisses under the covers, the two of you manage to get out of bed so you can pack and get ready for the trip home.

Right before he closes the door to the Screened-In Veranda Cabin, Frankie turns around, “Wanna ride with me on the way back, City Girl?”

“Sure!  What about Santi and Will?”  You can’t help but get excited about the prospect of a long road trip with Frankie.

“They can go with Benny.  Or Tom.  Well at least Santi can ride with Tom.  Don’t think Tom’s sisters will let Will into Tom’s truck,” Frankie looks genuinely amused and you once again spot that cute dimple make an appearance in his right cheek.

“Omigod!  I meant to ask Jenny about that – what happened??”

Frankie throws you a heart-stopping wink, one that nearly sends your knees buckling, “Tell you on the way home, querida.”

---

A few hours later, everyone’s packed bags are stowed in their respective cars, the cabins locked, boats put away for the winter, and sheets and laundry stripped to go back to the city to be cleaned.

“Ready to go, City Girl?” grins Frankie, “Bet you can’t wait to get home.”

Buckling your seatbelt and looking fondly at the sweet man who made sure you felt seen and cared for this week, you say, almost wistfully, “It’s not that bad here.”

Pressing a tender kiss to your lips, Frankie nuzzles your nose affectionately with his before putting the car in reverse.  Steering the wheel one-handedly with his other big paw cupping the back of your headrest, he winks, “Cottage country ain’t got nothing on cabin country, am I right, querida?”

You giggle as he straightens out the car and take the hand that Frankie’s holds out to you over the centre console, “Only the cashmere sweaters, but other than that, nothing.”

Frankie brings your hand up to his lips, placing a sweet kiss to your knuckles as he starts down the windy dirt road in the direction of the city, “An easy fix for next time, City Girl.” 

Biting your lip to keep from smiling too much, you nod happily in agreement.  Next time.

[madelynraemunson]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲) 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 ✨ — a steve harrington one shot fic

modern!sperm donor!steve x modern!pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: It’s hard to find ‘forever’ in a world that glorifies hook-up culture. After multiple failed relationships, you start to believe that your dream of having a family someday will only be just that — a DREAM. That is until you stumble across The Baby Gate Foundation, a family planning organization that helps qualifying Strangers start families with one another.

disclaimers — fluff overload, strangers to friends to lovers, some angst, reader goes by “Honey”,

NSFW — very brief smut, p in v sex (unprotected), breeding kink, cream pie, soft!dom steve

word count — 6.0k words

“So… what’s your favorite color?”

It’s the most aggravating question to ask when wading in the Dating Pool — and unfortunately the most frequent. But you figure at least asking about Steve Harrington’s favorite color is a good ‘precursor question’ when trying to get to know him. After all, you are the one carrying his child.

“Cerulean,” the handsome stranger from across the table replies.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue.”

“You could’ve just said blue.”

“What’s the fun in that?”

You issue him a touché type nod as you gently place your folded hands over your growing bump…a bump that was a byproduct of an ordeal that he wasn’t even present to participate in.

Before you knew him as Steve Harrington, he was just Stranger #021 whose sperm donation gave you the gift of life. The gift of having a little one of your own.

And it was about time you started a family. It has been a dream of yours — once you bagged your dream job and got to travel the world — to get married and have kids. But apparently the person you spent 6 years with did not share that dream, despite having told you he did in the beginning stages of your partnership.

Are you crazy? How dare you think your ex wanted a family after he explicitly told you he wanted you to marry him and have his kids? Silly lady. You actually thought he meant what he said.

And Steve Harrington’s baby daddy application seemed impossible to resist. The Baby Gate Foundation disclosed to you that Stranger #021 has no physical ailments, was a star athlete in high school, isn’t a carrier for any chronic illnesses, and passed a mental health and drug clearance.

Your baby is very likely to come out healthy and, now that you’ve gotten a good general idea of the guy, will hopefully inherit Steve’s luscious chestnut brown hair, his radiant smile, sparkling eyes, and kind nature. A healthy baby. A healthy family. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“Your stomach feeling okay?” Steve inquires.

“Yeah,” you smile. “I just like touching it sometimes. It still doesn’t feel real.”

When selected, Steve jumped for joy. And you bet he started doing cartwheels when your pregnancy test came out positive. My dick still works! he remembers saying.

Having been a foster parent to many teenagers in the past, Steve also felt ready to have a kid of his own. But then his first long term girlfriend of three years cheated on him, and then his next long term girlfriend left him when she realized a family with him was not what she wanted. Steve was practically on the same boat as you. And the stars aligned…

“So I was thinking…when you’re in what’s considered a ‘safe’ point in your pregnancy, say second trimester… we can do cute pregnancy announcements,” Steve suggests.

Your eyes glimmer at the thought.

“As coparents of course!” Steve makes sure to add. “A-and then we can have a gender reveal. We can choose the theme and ideas for it later but I’m just thinking of an intimate cake cutting thing….pink frosting, obviously for girl…”

“And cerulean for boy,” you smirk at him, finishing his thought.

He chuckles at your comment. “Yes, cerulean for boy.”

You two then begin to brainstorm the minor details. Signing up for parenting classes. Check-up appointments. Your baby registry. Ironing out the details so that you both can relish in the pregnancy as much as possible.

When you’re done, Steve then pays for your lunch and you two go separate ways. But not before a long, grateful hug.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his ear. “You’ve made my dream come true.”

“I am just as indebted,” Steve insists, giving your back a loving rub. “I’ve always wanted to be a father.”

You decide to not let go until Steve breaks the hug. But little did you know that was Steve’s plan too. So you both stand there, in the middle of the mall food court swaying back and forth, waiting patiently for the other to let go because to be honest, you never know what a simple ‘I see you’ hug can do for somebody.

Finally, Steve pulls away.

“Listen, uh, Honey,” he says. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird because technically we don’t really know each other…but I already care about you so deeply. You’re the mother of my child. I want to be as involved as possible.”

“I care about you too Steve,” you beam at him. “And I feel like our healing journeys are coming to an end. I’m so excited to come together with another person who has the same goals in life.”

And that is all that’s said during that exchange. You hope that throughout your pregnancy, you and Steve can have more coparent dates to really get to know each other. You love that he feels safe and trustworthy, willing to put his all into the child that he, and many many medical experts helped you create. And you hope that as your baby grows up, you will find a lifelong partner like Steve someday.

“So how’d it go?”

You’re over at your best friend, Eddie’s apartment talking to him about your day. Eddie has been your best friend since middle school, bearing witness to every wonderful milestone — and tragedy — that has plagued your life ever since. Your decision to become a mother on your own, and coparenting with a stranger is no exception.

“I like him!” you exclaim. “He’s very sweet.”

“Do you trust him as your Baby Daddy?”

“If I didn’t, it’d be a little too late for that I’m afraid.”

Eddie would’ve been more than happy to be your donor, and without a doubt, you’d trust him in being fully present in the child’s life. However Eddie comes from a home with a turbulent family dynamic, and unfortunately is a carrier of the addiction gene along with many other illnesses. Eddie didn’t want to risk doing that to you or your family. So it works out that he and his boyfriend Henry are the ‘Fun Uncles’ or as he calls them “Funcles” instead, and Steve is the dad.

“But yeah I like Steve,” you circle back. “He’s funny, sweet, looks like he takes care of himself. Even paid for my food. Oh, and as a bonus, he uses big words.”

Eddie snorts as he strides over to the fridge. “He uses big words.”

“Yeah, like cerulean.”

Your bestie cocks an eyebrow and smirks at you. “What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue,” you smirk back at him.

He releases a theatrical gasp. “Ground-breaking.”

Your banter is cut short when Eddie’s partner Henry walks through the door.

“Hello, hello.”

“Hey, Henry!”

You watch as the quiet, tall blonde dressed in dark-denim-tailored-to-fit struts in with a grocery bag, closing the door behind him with his foot.

“Hi, darlings.”

“Funcle Number Two,” Eddie greets his partner.

“I thought I was Number One.”

“You are,” Eddie shrugs. “In my heart. If you have an issue with your title and rank, I’d talk it up with Honey.”

“You can be Number One,” you grant him permission, eliciting a betrayed gasp from Eddie.

“Thank you, Honey,” Henry smirks, shooting a sassy look at Eddie.

Eddie issues a sour variation of that smirk to Henry, only to be met with a rough nudge to the ribcage. The two black cats then assemble to unload the groceries, all while focusing their attention back to you, their appointed ‘golden retriever’ of the bunch.

“Speaking of titles,” Henry adds. “How was your meeting with Daddy Steve?”

“It was wonderful,” you respond. “Was just telling Eddie how much I like him.”

Henry grimaces, understandably so. Your taste and judgment in men throughout the years have been nothing short of concerning. But because you didn’t willingly seek Steve out on a shady online dating app, at a dive bar at 2 AM, or on the dance floor of a sweaty small town nightclub, you figured you were in the clear.

“We’re gonna make it work no matter what,” you insist to your seemingly doubtful friends. “Even if there are discrepancies, we agreed it’s our kid before anything. And I’m ready. I told you guys myself that if I don't meet the love of my life by the time I'm 29, I'm having a baby by myself."

Aside from the two "Funcles", you have been the only consistent person in your life. And in this day and age, two people don't need to 'be together' to bring life into this world. And even if they are together, it’s not a happy home sometimes.

All that matters in this arrangement is that both of Baby Harrington’s parents are involved. That was Steve's promise to you.

Let's just hope he keeps it.

“That’s the head… and those…are your baby’s feet.”

You and Steve watch the monitor in awe as the sonographer scans your belly. You are now 20 weeks along, and doing a routine ultrasound check up.

First trimester was a nightmare. Constant nausea and vomiting so you’re not even sure that you’re stomaching those pre-natals, intense mood swings, and breast tenderness so bad you essentially begged Steve to just chop your tits off.

Regardless, you are healthy, and the baby is healthy. And now your camera roll is filled with pictures and videos of every frame of every ultrasound you get done, as well as audio recordings of Baby Harrington’s heartbeat. You and Steve even share your content amongst each other, just in case the other missed something that the other captured. It’s a wholesome exchange, really.

“Baby’s kicking a lot. Almost looks like they’re swimming in place,” the tech comments.

“I did swim and water polo in high school, could be why,” Steve explains.

You bat your eyes in adoration at your friend. He gives you a warm look back.

“Just like Daddy,” you say. And then Steve rests his palm atop your hand.

For the first time in a long time, everything feels complete.

“So, would you like to know the gender?” the sonographer inquires.

Immediately you and Steve bombard her with anxious-filled “No no no no”s. You decided to go with the cake gender reveal idea, and Henry and Eddie were in charge of having it made.

“We’d like for it to be a surprise,” Steve smiles. “But we sure would like an envelope with the gender in it. Honey’s gonna give it to her friends to give the baker.”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” the tech grins widely. “I will have it printed out for you shortly.”

She wipes your belly down so that there is no more ultrasound jelly on your stomach before leaving. Meanwhile, you and Steve are absolutely giddy. You are now halfway through your pregnancy and couldn’t wait to hold Baby Harrington in your arms.

But as exciting as everything is, it is also anxiety-inducing. No parenting book could ever prepare you for bringing a kid into the world. There was so much more that needed to be done. So much to do. And it seems like there was so very little time to do it.

Steve has another question for you. “When does the baby usually wake you up?”

“Baby’s a night owl, strangely,” you reply. “I’ll feel some moving and stuff at night.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head in thought.

“Man, I hope kid doesn’t wake you up at night too much when they’re born. That’d be god awful.”

“I know, I’ve been thinking of that too,” you groan. “And all the diaper changes I’ll probably have to do before putting them back to sleep. Ugh, I don’t even wanna think about diapers.”

You didn’t want to think about post-partum shit. So far, you’ve only been focused on pregnancy shit, and that shit is already overwhelming. While you seem well-equipped for pregnancy itself, the thought of actually being a fully-functioning parenting unit alongside Steve brings on a new set of fear.

Suddenly you and Steve look up at each other.

“Oh shit!” you shriek. “A crib! We need a crib! A stroller.”

“And a whole nursery,” he gulps. “And a baby monitor… A swaddle! A carrier!”

———

You and Steve are moved in together by the end of the month. Platonically, of course. With a capital P.

You both figured that raising the baby under one roof would be the healthiest way to approach your parenting situation. Both of you already get along really well and have similar communication styles. You two also have the same expectations from each other. And not every child is blessed with two parents living together in a happy home. It’s a luxury you both refused to take for granted.

So eventually the non-traditional-housewarming-slash-baby-shower-party rolls around, in efforts to help prepare for Baby Harrington’s arrival. It ends up being a huge success. Additionally, the party gave everyone a chance to mingle with one another, your friends meeting Steve’s friends and jokingly calling each other "in-laws". Robin and Eddie immediately grow very fond of each other, having deemed each other best friends after their third time meeting.

“How long do you give it?” Robin asks Eddie as they watch you and Steve work together to build the crib. “You know till they…”

They observe as you and Steve bicker back and forth about whether or not a section of the crib was installed the wrong way. You argue that it was, and Steve, still firm in his masculinity that he felt like was slowly chipping away (he can’t help it sometimes) insisted that it wasn’t.

“I know how to read, Honey. And besides, if it’s the wrong part, how did I screw it on perfectly?”

“I don’t know, Bob the Builder,” you fire back at him. “You didn’t have to 'screw it on perfectly' to get me pregnant.”

“Til that baby is born,” Eddie estimates.

Eddie chuckles at this. He’s been with Henry for many years, but you two have beat him at the argue-like-a-married couple thing. Slyly, he sips his beer.

“…The very latest.”

“Steve, I’m hungry. Wanna go to Rally’s?”

The cravings have officially kicked in (finally). But of course, it’s at the least convenient of times.

“Woman, it is 1 in the morning...”

“Yes, and I want Rally’s.”

You give Steve a light thunk on his fluffy head.

Now that you two live together, sleeping in the same bed was bound to happen eventually. But it is the least of your concerns. In a world where people go ‘ghost’ after getting what they want, laying your head down in the same bed as Steve is the farthest thing from intimacy. You’re also afraid of the dark, and being in his light calms your nerves.

Except for tonight. Where the only thing that’ll calm those nerves is a Wild West burger and some fries.

Steve huffs, clearly too tired to argue with your hungry ass. But also, you’re the mother of his child. You have the hardest job, and having a late night snack when you felt like it is the bare minimum of what you deserve.

“Let’s go.”

You smirk to yourself as you dance your way out of bed. Anything Baby Mama wants, Baby Mama gets.

Rally’s sure did the trick. When you and Steve return, you find yourself skipping back to the bedroom while Harrington fights to urge to plop onto the floor right by the entry way, his body’s natural response to a food coma, and the state of lethargy he was in from being stirred awake.

But as much as he valued his beauty sleep, he knows deep down he’d still do it again for you. Your little food dance was also pretty damn cute, anyways.

———

THE NEXT WEEK

You and Steve have been ordering way too much takeout. So tonight you decide to surprise him with a home-cooked meal. So while he’s at work, you’re searching Pinterest for healthy, savory dishes to cook. Chinese food it is. One can never go wrong with some chicken fried rice.

Steve comes home right when you finish.

“Oh my god,” Steve gawks as he enters the kitchen. “What smells so damn good?”

“I made dinner,” you smile gleefully, and with pride. “I have so much energy second trimester it’s insane. Hope you like Chinese.”

Steve slows down. Glancing around the chaotic kitchen, he takes in the array of sauces, the cutting board, and the multiple plates and bowls that most likely harbored the. Then he looks at you — a sweaty mess with stains on her apron from all the rice tossing. And he can tell, by your slightly labored breathing, that you’re gathering up all the energy you possibly can to powerwash all the dishes.

“You…made this for me?”

“Yeah! For us, actually. And the baby. I hope you’re okay with onions and scallions.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine with those,” he insists. “It’s just that…I have a date tonight.”

Suddenly the pots and pans feel so much heavier. The air, hotter. The onions, stronger judging by how tears start pooling at the base of your eyes. At least you want to blame it on those.

“Oh,” you sniff.

“I’m so sorry, Honey. I should’ve told you so you didn’t have to go out of your way.”

“It’s fine.”

Why do you feel this way? It’s not like you two are together anyway. This pregnancy is a partnership… platonic with a capital P. So why are you upset? And more importantly, why are you jealous?

“I-I’m sorry…” Steve panics. “I-it’s just that we’ve been getting takeout all week and I thought it’d be the same toni-”

“It’s okay, Steve.”

“That came out so bad, I…”

“I know what you mean,” you shake your head shutting him down immediately. “Have fun tonight, okay?”

“You’re crying…”

“I was chopping onions,” you point out.

You nod to the bag of onions that were yet to be put away. There was a lot left to be put away actually, and you were kind of hoping Steve would help. But clearly he’s a busy man.

“And it’s probably just the stupid pregnancy hormones too,” you add.

“They’re NOT stupid,” Steve insists. “And you just said you have so much energy. You were bursting with light just a moment ago…before I killed it.”

“Have fun tonight, Steve,” you repeat.

You head over to the wok and scoop out a serving for two: one serving for you, and one for the baby. Dad will get the leftovers, you suppose.

Steve watches you intently. You can feel his stare even with your back turned. Suddenly, you hear the faint dial tone of his cell phone ringing a couple of times before someone answers.

“Hey…Lacey, I can’t come tonight,” Steve sighs. “I’m really sorry for being so last minute. A family emergency came up.”

You look back over at him. He makes sure to look you in the eyes as he says ‘family’.

The two of them talk some more before Steve hangs up the phone. Awkwardly now, you chew softly at the rice you made.

“Well she definitely hates me,” Steve chuckles. “But I don’t care.”

“Steve…” you speak. “You didn’t have to.”

“You’re carrying my kid,” Steve looks at you with glimmering eyes. “I can’t be running through the town in the arms of another woman. This pregnancy is a team effort.”

He glides over you and stops right where your hips meet. You timidly manage to look up at him, tear-jerked, all sweaty, and very very pregnant. And after Steve tucks a loose strand of hair behind the blushing cartilage of your ear, he presses his tender lips against your forehead.

“For the baby,” he whispers to you.

“For the baby,” you repeat after him.

The day is here.

The gender reveal, that is. You didn’t expect finding out something as simple as having a boy or girl was going to be this nerve wracking. And to think some people do this in front of a huge audience.

“Okay…” you exhale unevenly. “You ready?”

“Only if you are,” Steve nods, but his trembling hands betray him.

“Hand me a glass.”

Steve hands you one of the two wine glasses you brought for the intimate picnic you had planned for today. On the count of three, you two were to dig those very glasses into the cake and scoop out the long awaited answer.

SWEET CHILD O MINE, the cake reads. Boy or girl?

Henry and Eddie settled for a Rock-N-Roll inspired cake, with self-indulgent black and red buttercream on the outside, and the pre-determined blue or pink on the inside. You were afraid that it was going to be a little too edgy for Steve, but he assures you the aesthetic of a cake is the least of his priorities.

Drawing out an uneven breath now, you decide to start counting down.

“One…” you gulp.

“Two…” Steve joins in.

But you can't bring yourself to say ‘three’. Shutting your eyes closed in a bout of nervousness, you mutter softly,

"Two and a half..."

It earns you a chuckle from Steve. Knowing just how to calm you down, like he had been doing all pregnancy, he offers you his available hand to squeeze if you needed.

“Three!” you two finally say together.

Plunging your wine glasses into the cake, you and Steve gather one big scoop each while your eyes drift elsewhere.

“I can’t look,” you choke, sniffing back a tear or two.

“I can’t either,” Steve exhales, evidently nervous. “You can look first though.”

“No, I’ll look when you do.”

You’re met with messy dough and frosting in the glass at first. But after trailing after the inside part of the cake, you catch sight of the fluffy frosting that was buried beneath. A bright, eye-catching, pastel....

...cerulean blue. A baby boy.

“Oh…my…god,” your hand trembles in complete shock. “It’s a boy…”

“Oh my god, baby!” Steve sniffs going in to hug you. “We’re having a boy…”

And then it happens. Unable to contain himself from his joy any longer, Steve cups your face with his frosting-laced fingers, connecting his lips passionately to yours, and you with him.

It’s the best day of Steve’s life. You are the reason that he gets to live out his dream of becoming a dad. And now that you two are having a son, all he can imagine is teaching the kid how to throw a football in the backyard, signing him up for T-Ball and Boy Scouts (just like his dad once did with him), and taking him and his buddies out on silly, fun-filled rag-tag group adventures.

And knowing how strange and daunting the world can be, Steve already maps out how to raise your child morally, encouraging him to always treat others with kindness, to be a friend to all, to always lend a helping hand whenever the situation calls on it. And to respect women…because after all, everybody came from one. And Steve knows that he struck gold, considering the fact that he views you as an absolute queen.

You kiss King Steve back, humming in awe because of how natural his energy feels against yours.

It all feels very natural. Makes you feel like you’ve known him your entire life.

Your eyes widen in shock as you two look at each other, both stunned that a kiss was both of your initial, seemingly ‘platonic’, response to the news.

"Is it just me or is it just now hitting?" Steve questions. "We're having a kid together."

"It's just now hitting me too," you agree, the double meaning tugging aggressively at your heartstrings. "We're really doing this, Stevie."

“Our son.”

“Our son.”

———

“What happens when one of us finds somebody?”

It’s a talk you and Steve were due for eventually. But Steve is just as unsure, looking over at your pregnant silhouette standing at the foot of the doorway.

But with how beautiful you looked standing at the doorway, your silk, maternity night gown hugging all the beautiful curves of your body while you rubbed your belly that housed your very active kicker, Steve wasn’t even sure if he’d ever want to find somebody else.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he ends up saying.

He makes his way over to you, wrapping his gentle arms around your waistline, emitting his ever-growing love for you and the baby you two share.

“But if one thing's for sure, it's our son. Baby Harrington first. Before anything.”

“Baby before anything," you repeat the promise.

Steve’s lips graze your skin once again, an invitation and incentive to join him in bed — nuzzled up in the sheets and his warmth — so the two of you can soak in all the rest you possibly can before Baby Boy makes his entrance into the world.

Some bridges aren’t meant for crossing. Sometimes settling is the best option. And you don’t mind settling down. Because here, in Steve’s arms, it feels like home.

WEEK 38

An involuntary rush in your lower extremity stirs you awake. When you feel around to push the sheets aside and hobble to the bathroom, you’re stunned to discover your nightgown had become a raft, and that you’re laying atop your own unscented secretions. And you know it’s not piss. So if you didn’t pee…

Oh no, it’s happening.

You begin to panic.

“Steve!” you hiss, sitting up and pushing your partner awake. “HEY! Harrington!”

“Huh?” Steve mumbles, still half asleep.

“Get the hospital bag.”

“What?”

“Get the hospital bag, dingus. My water just broke.”

He shoots up. Still relatively disoriented, but now also horrified.

“W-what? Are you sure?! Does this… A-are you about to…”

“Yes! Grab the bag and start the car. He’s coming RIGHT NOW.”

While you slowly sit up to get your shoes and a robe on, Steve scurries to the car with your overnight L&D bag and purse in his arms. You reach over to grab your phone and charger, dialing up Eddie in the process.

It rings for a long time before he picks up.

“Honey, it’s 4 AM, what do you want?” Eddie grumbles.

“It’s time, Eds,” you sniff happily. “The baby is coming.”

The line is silent for a couple seconds, and for a while it’s like you can hear Eddie connecting the dots in his head. Alas, he speaks.

“HO-LY SHIT!”

*Click*. The line disconnects.

Steve holds your hand through it all. From checking into Labor and Delivery, to moving to your room, to breathing exercises with your bedside doula, check-ins with your midwife, and throughout the entire birthing process.

Not only is he nervous out of his mind, but he thinks you’re so beautiful.

"You know," Steve says in attempts to soothe you. "When I came out the womb, the nurse yelled "Oh my gosh! That's a lot of hair on a baby!"

You're too fixated on your breathing exercises to fully appreciate Steve's story. But you understand his sweet gesture, so you stroke his thumb with your thumb to let him know you're listening.

“I guess I had double the amount of hair than a usual newborn,” he continues. “And all the nurses were crowding around to get a good— OW OW OW! Watch the hand, watch the hand.”

The sudden level 9 contraction that shot through your entire stomach, causing you to scream in agony and beg for the epidural.

"JESUS, FUCK GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME!" you plead desperately.

Steve kisses you softly on the forehead before going in to stroke your, very sweaty, hair. He was not going to leave your side. Not now, not ever. This baby — and you — are the best things to ever happen to him.

Thanks to yours and Steve's mindful prep, the birthing process was a smooth one compared to others.

But still pretty painful, nonetheless. For you, for Steve, for everybody involved.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," Eddie sputters as he and Henry rush onto the unit with the baby's carseat and other miscellaneous belongings in their hands. "It's happening, it's happening. He's almost here!"

"I wonder," Henry pants, doing his best to keep up with his boyfriend. "If she experienced the Ring of Fire yet."

"What's the Ring of Fire?" Eddie questions him.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" your tumultuous screams sound down the hall directly from your room. Anyone would've thought someone was getting murdered in there, had it not been a hospital unit strictly for childbirth.

"That," Henry answers him.

---

"You're almost there, baby," Steve encourages you. "Keep pushing."

The epidural had finally kicked in and now all you had to focus on was pushing.

“I see the head, Mama,” your midwife announces, rubbing your knee as you’re struggling to push. “Keep going, keep going! Couple more for me.”

“FUCK!” you cry out doing your best to contract those muscles.

“There we go…” Steve soothes you as he strokes your hair. “Doing AMAZING, baby. That’s it…”

He strokes your thumb with his, a helpless look in his eyes as he watches you struggle. It’s clear that Steve doesn’t know what else he could possibly do for you, but he attempts to mask that belief. He couldn’t wait to spoil you afterwards. It’s what you deserve.

“Few more pushes, Honey,” your nurse says again. “He’s almost out. We got his shoulders now.”

“Oh god I’m gonna faint,” Steve says, evidently growing dizzy.

“Can someone get a wet towel for Dad?!” another nurse calls out. “And maybe some juice?”

“PUSH, PUSH!”

“PUSH, Honey!”

“ALMOST THERE, MAMA!”

“I can’t,” you cry out. “I can’t anymore.”

“You can do it, baby,” Steve encourages you, pelting the back of your hand with endearing kisses. “You’re doing such a good job, I’m so proud of you…”

Before you know it, the air of the hospital room fills with tiny belted cries, followed by relieved and adorn coos as the nurse catches your baby.

“0507, time of birth!"

“Oh my god,” Steve wails in excitement. “Oh my god, he’s here he’s out. We have a baby! You did it, Honey!”

Too exhausted to say anything you simply fall back, taking a few deep breaths in relief. It’s over, the baby is here. And he is healthy.

You feel a sloppy kiss land on your cheek. Steve ruffles your hair when you look his way.

“You did it, Honey.”

Everything happens so fast after that.

From what you hear, Steve was the one who cut the umbilical cord — and he was very adamant about having the pictures to prove it. The baby was then weighed and bathed, all the hospital data was gathered with permission granted by Steve.

And soon, after an eternity, your son is swaddled and soon returned back to you and ‘Dad’.

"Oh wow!" a nurse remarks. "This baby has a whole lotta hair!"

You and Steve immediately look to each other and burst out laughing. Just like his Daddy...

———

“How does that feel, Steve?” you ask him, eyes fixated on the absolute DILF in front of you.

“Amazing,” he coos. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

When all needs were attended to, it was finally time for ‘skin to skin’. You didn’t think it’d be possible to be both sexy and wholesome at the same time — until you saw Steve cradling your newborn, pressing him tenderly against his exposed chest so that their hearts can beat as one.

“Hi little man,” he sniffs. “I’m your daddy.”

A single tear falls from his face and splashes onto the blanket that your son was cocooned in. Steve pulls him in closer and kisses him softly on the forehead.

“I’m your daddy,” he repeats.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted. Steve’s legacy is about to begin and it’s all thanks to you. And from your hospital bed as you recover, you are able to snap some pictures of the two loves of your life, the first photos of many, of the family photo albums.

“Ugh, when did Steve get so hairy?” Lucas wonders as he sneaks a gaze into the hospital room.

“Right?” Dustin agrees, joining him beside the doorway. “I told him he needs to tame that jungle but he claims the ladies dig it.”

“I mean, look at Honey,” Lucas points out. She seems to like it and Steve knocked her up.”

“True but it wasn’t organic, you idiot,” Max mutters.

Love pours in from every wing of the unit. Soon all your family and friends start to arrive, as well as Steve’s family and friends. You’re spoiled with ‘congratulations’ signs, and postpartum care packages, and an array of foods that you couldn’t eat while pregnant (i.e. sushi, deli sandwiches).

And with your approval, Steve comes out of the hospital room, ready — and proud — to showcase your baby to the entire world.

“Everyone, there’s someone we’d like for you to meet,” Steve says, keeping his voice at a low murmur. “This is Benjamin Dean Harrington. Benny for short.”

You and Steve end up taking parental leave at the same time.

Your entire day-to-day consists of loving on and spending quality time with Benny. The diaper changes, the cuddles, the nursery rhymes, and everything in between. It’s impossible to think you’ll ever get tired of it. You and Steve have officially transitioned to Mom & Dad Mode.

Until Benny goes to sleep.

As the golden sun peaks in through the cream colored blinds, you feel Steve’s hand trail down your back and down to your ass to grab it. Releasing a soft moan, you lean into his touch, shifting your weight to one side of the mattress.

“Baby…” he moans into you.

“Should we?” your eyes twinkle. “The baby’s asleep…”

He chuckles into your neck, raspy voice sure to be the end of you if he kept teasing you any longer.

“‘m scared I’ll hurt you.”

“I’ll let you know,” you barter. “I feel ready.”

———

“Fuck, right there, Steve…”

You grip the sheets tightly as Steve rolls his hips into you, his strokes a delicious mix of pleasure and a challenging stretch. And as you bite into your pillow, your eyes rolling up towards the sky, he maintains the pace you love so much, drilling you in, simultaneously massaging your clit while his quenched lips tenderly suction themselves to the crook of you neck.

It’s your first time together, but it feels like you two have done this before. Your bodies are naturally in sync, knowing where your boundaries lie without needing any cues, and knowing exactly how far you both can take it. Daddy Steve, being the gentleman he is, has your entire body mapped out.

“God I love it,” your overstimulated self whimpers, chest to your chin, ankles dangling off of Steve’s broad shoulders as he rails you.

“Oh, I bet you do, Honey.”

His large hand encloses around your neck, thumb hovering over your lips as he fawns over your mewling, vulnerable body.

“You want my cum, baby?” Steve asks. “Want me to fill you to the brim huh? You wanna have my babies?”

“Yes, I want your babies, Steve,” you moan. “Want all of them.”

And as an orgasm spills out of you, Steve’s spills in, coating you with his warm release as you both unravel in the sheets.

“Holy shit, that felt so good,” you whisper, nuzzling your head against his chest. Steve grins from ear to ear when you kiss him on the chin. “Thank you for making me feel so safe and loved.”

“Well when you’re you Honey, you make it so easy,” he blushes.

Steve rests his hands on your ass again, giving it a faint smack. You bite your lip as he pulls you even closer to him. And as the sun sets, you know round two is on the horizon.

“Anyways, when ARE we having another one?”

———

author’s note: i’m noticing some themes with the way i write eddie smut vs steve smut. i totally write eddie as a rough dom and steve is def a soft dom. not complaining tho, those are my headcannons for them 🤭

divider creds: @silkholland , @elfbar-baby

[owliellder]

All Pent Up

MDNI 18+

Puppy Hybrid! Leon Kennedy x afab! Reader

Word count: 3.85k

Warnings: Porn w/ plot, unprotected p in v (stay safe), no use of y/n, spanking, crying, slight ass-play.

Description: After a long night at work, you come home to a very pent up Leon. A trip to the park to help with that energy turns a little sour.

Tags: Submissive! Leon, neck biting/marking, begging, cunnilingus, knotting, mommy kink, fluff, near illegal amounts of praise AND aftercare, a lovely creampie to end the morning

Not proofread. I am once again sat here bored at work. More self indulgence since I work the same kind of job aforementioned in this lmao.

Also VERY much inspired by @abp0rns art of puppy Leon, specifically the two I put below the crop. Please check out their art they gotta be one of my favorite doodlers out there.

Edit: cross posted onto Ao3 if it's easier for you to read there (cause it is for me)

It had been an incredibly boring night at work for you. Working graveyard at a gatehouse meant you did practically nothing. Easy money, sure, but you can only watch so many movies and doodle so much before it becomes redundant.

The only thing keeping you going was making sure your puppy, Leon, stayed happy and comfortable. You'd found him at the shelter a few months back, and though you never considered yourself to be a hybrid kinda person, Leon was just too damn cute at that shelter.

After adopting the hybrid, you quickly fell into a nice afterwork routine; come home, get jumped by Leon, make breakfast while he asked a plethora of questions about your night and made sure you knew just how much he missed you by licking and slobbering all over you. He was the sweetest boy, but man was he excitable.

Some mornings, you'd come home a bit more awake than others. It was random and you're not sure what made that so, but today was apparently one of those days.

~

"-sosososo glad you're home, mommy! I've been so lonely and bored without you!" Leon happily talked on after you'd walked through the door, his golden fur covered tail thumping loudly against the back of the couch. You remained quiet as you let him ramble, reaching up to pet through his messy bedhead with a smile. "I chewed on my toys, broke one of the squeakers though, but you've gotten me plenty of other toys for me to play with!! I really like this fluffy red pig you got me-!"

He continued to talk loudly about everything he did after you left for work only 8 hours prior, running around to grab and show you his chewed up toy and his favorite toy, tail continuing to wag avidly all the while.

"Alright, alright.. settle down, Leon.." You spoke up, cutting off his talk about laying in your bed so you could take a moment to shed your work clothes in favor of some more comfortable lounge wear; an old, faded graphic tee and a pair of soft sweatpants.

The hybrid followed you throughout the apartment while continuing to ramble, albeit a lot quieter now. Clearly Leon had a lot of energy this morning, which wasn't unusual by any means, but since you weren't all that tired this morning you decided that a trip to the dog park would be a good way for him to get some much needed exercise and enrichment.

After making breakfast, you dressed your puppy in a cozy outfit since it was always little chilly in the mornings where you lived, damn cold desert. You only had to reach for the leash for him to start jumping and yapping enthusiastically, making it rather difficult to hook it onto his collar.

You decided to stay in your comfy clothes, seeing as it would keep you warm enough until the sun warmed the air outside.

"Do you think Chris will be there?! Can you text his owner?? Who else is gonna be there?! I can smell the park from here!-" Leon rambled excitedly as he tugged you along to the park, smelling every bush and tree the two of you passed thoroughly. His tail never stopped wagging, those soft floppy ears perked forwards as he moved his head every which way, focusing in on every movement and sound while beelining to the park. He knew the way there, the leash was just to make sure you didn't get lost.

The air was cool the, sun beginning to warm you up. It was starting to bring out your exhaustion, but you wanted Leon to get at least half an hour of playtime in so he wouldn't bug you while you slept later. The thought alone made it easy for you to power through that brain fog that threatened to settle in.

You and Leon walked across the street once the tall chainlink fence that bordered the dog park was in view, the Golden Retriever hybrid practically dragging you to the other side of the street as his excitement grew. There were always other hybrids out early in the morning, the cool mornings were nicer for walks compared to the hot afternoons, at least in your opinion.

Leon was rubbing himself along the side of the fence, sniffing with a large goofy smile on his face. He had playmates that were normally here around this time, namely Chris, a German Shepard hybrid. Though Chris was a little bigger than Leon, they always played nicely, never having gotten into any sort of scuffle.

Chris was quick to notice Leon, running up to the fence so he could sniff him. They rapidly got each other riled up, so the moment you made it to the gate you unhooked the leash from Leon's collar. This wasn't so he didn't get choked out when he launched into the park, no, it was because the last time you forgot to unhook his leash first, you were yanked face first into soggy grass and mud.

The second you unlatched the gate, Leon pushed it open. He sprinted into the grassy park, Chris not far behind before tackling the smaller hybrid with a playful growl. The two roughhoused, chased each other, and played tug-of-war with a stick Chris had found.

You decided to sit on a bench not too far from where the boys played, looking up from your phone every minute or so to make sure their play didn't turn ugly.

Only 30 minutes had gone by before- "Mommy! Mommy!" Leon shouted from across the park, prompting you to look up from your phone. It only took a moment for your eyes to nearly bulge out of your head when you spotted a now brown Leon. His tail wagged, slapping loudly against the thick puddle of mud he was laying sideways in. "Looklooklook! Chris and I found a ball!" he yelled with a grin, Chris holding up the muddy ball high in the air so you could see it.

You sat there dumbfounded for a brief moment before letting your head fall back, breathing in and letting out a deep sigh as your eyes closed. You tilted your head forwards again, letting your eyes open slowly as your annoyance showed clear on your face.

Your puppy could see your expression change even from where he was, his ears drooping more than they were as the mud had weighed them down a bit. Seems like playtime was over.

Chris' owner wasn't all that happy either, walking over to the filthy hybrids only a few seconds sooner than you did. You pulled Leon from the mud by the collar since he seemed a bit stuck, glaring weakly at the now cowering puppy.

"Leon is always getting Chris into some sort of mess." Chris' owner huffed out, clearly irritated with the situation. You frowned, running your free hand over your face with a soft sigh. "I'm sorry, Leon just seems to really like the mud lately. I can't help that Chris follows, but I'll try to keep Leon from the mud." You didn't really care for someone implying your Golden Retriever puppy was a bad dog, but the idea of confrontation mixed with your ever-growing exhaustion was enough to have you just let it go.

After apologizing again, you let Leon shake off the excess mud from his body before hooking the leash to his collar once more, beginning to pull him towards the gate. He was very resistant to leaving, whining and whimpering something fierce. "I'm sorry! ImsorryImsorry! Please I'll be good! Let me stay a little longer mommy! Please I'm sorry! Mommy!"

As pitiful as he sounded, you now had to squeeze a thorough bath in for the hybrid before you were even able to think about sleeping. You continued to drag him along as he fought against you, crying out softly as you finally got him through the gate, closing it before he could run back through.

Your exhaustion was making you irritable, and having to fight to get Leon back home was enough to make you angry. It got even worse when he growled at you.

You stopped walking, the entrance to your apartment building only a few feet away. Turning around to face him, he immediately shrunk down at your furious glare. "Bad boy, Leon." Your voice was harsh, yet also so calm, it scared him. He hated being a bad boy, he never wanted to hear those words together again.

After you started walking again, he followed obediently, staying silent all the way into your apartment. He stood stiffly by the front door once you closed it, watching you stomp away. The puppy was on the verge of tears, his muddy tail tucked between his legs and his ears flat against his head.

Leon's bottom lip trembled the longer he couldn't see you, his ears twitching a bit as he picked up on the sound of the bath faucet turning on. His hands were clasped in front of his legs, head down in shame.

"Leon!" You called out from the bathroom, your tone still laced with irritation, he could definitely tell that much. The hybrid quickly shuffled to the bathroom, trying his best not to get clumps of dried up mud on the carpet along the way.

Leon stood in the bathroom doorway before you gently dragged him in, making silent work of his clothes that were absolutely caked in mud. He knew what to do afterwards, quietly seating himself in the bath, shoulders slumped. The bath was silent except for Leon's weak attempts to apologize, his voice faltering every time once he looked at your face. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you just looked so disinterested.

After the bath, you shooed the puppy off with a towel draped over his shoulders, lazily washing off his collar in the dirty bath water before unplugging the tub.

Leon sat in the living room, drying himself off as best as he could with the towel. Even after, he shook himself off on instinct, the towel left discarded on the floor. He had sat himself on the couch, still slouched with a strong pout on his face.

He knew he was in trouble. His stomach sank when you walked out and stood in front of him with that same irritated look. You then walked and sat next to him on the left. "Lay across my lap, Leon."

The Golden Retriever hybrid whimpered, though he did as he was told, laying himself so his abdomen was laying on your lap, his tail still tucked between his legs. He yipped when you grabbed the base of his damp tail with your left hand, roughly untucking it so you could get a clear view of his ass. "Look at me, Leon."

He turned his head and tilted it back slightly so he could look up at you, his eyes sad and watery. He didn't have anything to say for himself. "You growled at me. You've never growled at me before." You sounded upset, and you were. You didn't want to punish your sweet boy, but him growling at you for something so insignificant deeply bothered you.

Sighing, you pulled his tail up away from his ass even further, grip tightening on it as you felt him try and tuck it back between his legs again. Wordlessly, you drew your other hand back, a sharp smack along with a cry from Leon ringing out in the quiet apartment. You hated having to do this, but he needed to learn.

A few harsh spanks later and the hybrid's ass was bright red and sore, tears spilling down his face as he sobbed out barely comprehensible apologizes in between loud cries every time you brought your hand down on his tender behind. His hands gripped the couch cushion tightly, those pitiful sobs of his tugging at your heart.

Once you feel Leon'd learned his lesson, you gently ran your hand along both his ass cheeks, soothing the hot and red skin while your other hand caressed the base of his tail. You waited until his crying quieted to talk to him again, listening to him sniffle wetly as you let go of his tail to wipe away his snot and tears.

"Okay, okay... there you go, sweet boy. All done. I'm all done..." you whispered to the whimpering puppy hybrid in your lap, shifting your body sideways so he could climb up and lay his head against your chest. You combed your fingers through his hair with one hand while the other stroked the side of his face, clearing the few stray tears that continued to fall.

Leon buried his face into your chest, hiccuping out muffled apologies as he brought his hands up to wrap around you. "I'm sorry mommy. So-.. sososo sorry... Didn't mean to, mommy..."

As he trembled against you, you couldn't help but feel terrible for punishing him that way. He'd never been bad before, the punishment really shouldn't have been so harsh..

You waited until he quieted to speak up again, tilting your head to the side slightly so you could see his face a little better. "...you took that so well, Leon. Such a good boy for mommy, huh?" Despite the suggestive undertone, you made sure to talk softly, careful not to upset the delicate puppy on your chest.

He lifted his head up slightly, nodding weakly as his eyes turned glassy once more. "Please.. I'll-I'll be a good boy for you m-mommy. I'm sorry- I'm so so sorry mommy- I didn't mean to growl- ImsorryImsorryIm-"

You shushed him, running your hand from the side of his face up through his hair as he began to cry again. "You're a good boy, Leon. I forgive you, baby.."

All Leon wanted to do was make this right. He never wanted to be a bad boy again. He hated the way you spoke to him, the way you had looked at him. It was so scary, he wasn't a bad boy, no, he wasn't.

His mind was flooded with everything he could possibly do to make it up to you, tears falling onto your shirt as he pulled himself up off of you. He crawled backwards and sat back on his haunches, giving you a wary look as he tucked his fingers under the waistband of your sweatpants.

"Oh, Leon, sweetheart, you don't have to-" "Please..." Leon's meek voice cut you off, making you pause for a moment before nodding with a smile. His hands trembled as he pulled your sweatpants down, taking your panties with them. The hybrid hiccuped again before bringing his head down between your thighs, putting your legs over his shoulders as he cautiously placed his hands onto the points of your hips

It only took a second before he shoved his face into your cunt, whimpering at your smell and taste as he licked between your folds. You gasped, feeling his tongue eagerly lap up your slick as it leaked out of you, his low whimpers vibrating deliciously against you. "Leon~... oh~.. easy, boy..."

You reached a hand down to gently stroke his hair, attempting to get the puppy hybrid to calm down a bit still. He was obviously so eager to please, though he was still shaken up by the punishment; tears falling from his eyes, quiet sobs muffled by your pussy, eyes closed, and cheeks flushed a beautiful pink. His tail had started to wag again and you were relieved to see it sway slowly. You just wanted to see your puppy happy and excitable again like he always was.

Leon continued to lap at your cunt, keeping himself firmly buried in it. His breathing was a bit shaky but you just let him do what he needed to do, reaching your hand to the right a bit so you could stroke one of his soft floppy ears. He sighed at the feeling, his tail wagging a little faster.

"That's a good boy, Leon~... god- such a good boy for his mommy.." You praised the hybrid as he worked his mouth on you, the praise causing him to whine into your cunt. His eyes peaked open, looking up at you as small tears fell from them. "Good boy~..." You ran your hand down to stroke your thumb between his eyes, prompting him to close them again with a sigh.

Your words encouraged him further, sucking at your clit when his tongue wasn't buried inside of you. The puppy hybrid licked all around, making sure none of your sweet slick was left to waste. He eased his grip on your hips, partially worried he would hurt you, but mostly cause he adored the way you writhed when you drew close to your orgasm. He relished in how you pulled his head impossibly closer, practically grinding against his face, using him. What a good boy he was.

Leon was in heaven when you came, whimpering into your cunt as you gushed against his face. He made sure to lick up everything he could, even dipping down to your ass for a minute, tongue flat against the puckered hole. He'd be mad if he saw the couch got some of your juices.

After a moment, he pulled his head away, resting the side of his slick covered face against your thigh as he looked up at you with those puppy-dog eyes that you just couldn't resist. You knew what he wanted, and who were you to deny him?

"My good boy wanna fuck his mommy? Show his mommy what a good boy he is?" You whispered, to which he eagerly nodded in response, his ears perking up. You could hear his tail thump lazily against the back cushion of the couch, all the while watching him lick his lips. "I-I'll be a good boy for mommy. I'm a good boy-..good boy for mommy.." he mumbled quietly, hoisting himself up onto his haunches again after carefully laying your legs down off his shoulders. His thick cock was leaking pre-cum, flushed red at the tip while his knot was fully swollen. It was hard to look away.

Leon continued to mumble to himself, almost like he was trying to convince himself that he was a good boy. His breathing was still shaky as he watched you flip over, your ass up in the air while you rested your elbows on the armrest of the couch.

The poor thing was practically drooling at the sight of you, frozen in place, just staring at your glistening pussy. Your voice snapped him out of his trance, a hushed "Pretty boy..." causing him to lurch forward and mount you without further hesitation.

You cried out as he shoved his cock into you halfway, stopping only to grab the skin right above your collarbone with his teeth. He made sure he was positioned properly, shifting slightly before pushing his throbbing dick all the way. He whined at the way your slick walls gripped him, his knot pressed firmly against the outside of your cunt.

Leon's teeth broke skin as he began to piston in and out of you. He was drooling, whimpering, moaning, and his tail was wagging so fast. He loved the way his mommy felt, gripping his so tightly, sucking his thick cock in.

His let go of your skin to lick at gently, which was a stark contrast to his fast and rough thrusts. "So sorry mommy- sososo sorry.. never growl at you again- ah~..! I-I'll be mommy's good-.. good boy.."

The hybrid panted next to your ear, reaching his hands up and under your loose shirt to grip and massage your breasts. His fingers pinched and tugged at your sensitive nipples, causing you to moan loudly. You could feel every bit of his cock as he slammed it into you over and over again, the tip kissing your cervix which made you hiss at the slight pain it caused.

"Gonna- hnghh~.. gonna fill mommy up.. gonna be mommy's best boy again..." Leon whined, tilting his head to the side so he could nip at your neck, kissing and licking under your jaw. He sucked numerous hickeys down your neck, making quick work of the other side as well. He wanted you to remember how good he was for you, how much he was willing to do to make things better, what a good boy he was for you.

It didn't take long for him to near his own orgasm, his chin resting over your shoulder as his hands had worked their way back to your hips. He was so close; the sounds of your moans, the sinful way your pussy squelched with slick as he fucked into you, your smell, the lingering taste of you on his tongue, everything was just so overwhelming.

The puppy hybrid didn't have the words to give you warning, only a long drawn out whine as his hips stuttered forward, knot stretching you open. You came again from the feeling, barely being able to clench around his knot. It was just so big.

With his cum pumping into you, you could only groan pleasantly at the feeling of being so full, his knot having basically plugged you to the point that none of it could escape.

You could partially register Leon running his hands up and down your body, anywhere he could reach in his position, bunching up your shirt in the process. His large hands felt nice, helping you come down from your high. He was whispering something, you couldn't make out what, but it was probably the same thing he'd been spewing before.

~

After Leon was able to pull out of you, you made sure to reassure him over and over that he was your good boy, and he'd always be your good boy.

You made him a little snack once you'd cleaned yourself and him up, seeing as the park and your at-home playtime had influenced his appetite quite a bit. You loved to see him happy again; those beautiful blue eyes crinkled with a smile as that fluffy tail of his wagged.

Your body finally realized how tired it was once more, your brain catching up with that as well. You waved Leon, who was elated to follow you, into your room, practically bounding in like a deer. He begged to lay the way you two did on the couch, and again, who were you to deny him?

You laid back, head on your pillow as Leon nestled himself on top of you. He laid his head on your chest, turning his head to the left as he rested his arms on either side of you, his hands just barely tucked up under your pillow after pulling the blankets up over the both of you.

"You're the greatest boy anyone could ask for, Leon. Always taking such good care of me.." you whispered as his eyes closed, his tail going from a lazy wag to a stop as he fell asleep.

"I love you, my sweet boy.."

[haedalkoo]

Do you have a favorite thing about the way the boys speak as individuals (can be about their general type of speech, words/phrases they use, etc.)? Can be jimin and jungkook or any of bts!

For example, I don't speak korean, but jimin's speech always sounds so soft and comforting. Even when he's not trying to be cute, he still sounds so sweet. Armys joke about kindergarten teacher jimin, but I really do feel like even his voice and speech give that gentle vibe.

This is the cutest thing you could've asked me! Let's go in order:

Namjoon: I love the way he mixes Korean and English so seamlessly. I think he has two modes, Serious-Leader-Speech, very eloquent and straight to the point, carefully chosen words; and Regular Kim Namjoon, still all of those things but super cute, he rambles a lot and mixes languages and tends to use a lot of slang? He def lurks online. But guys, he's also so poetic. He sounds like he's reading a beautiful novel. He always sounds super polite too (when he's calm I guess!! he can get super hyped up lol) but he doesn't slur his words, it's so easy to understand him even though sometimes his vocab is really precise and advanced. OMG AND he doesn't have an accent!! BUT he imitates the members satoori and it's super goofy bc he's not great at it, so it's like his own made-up satoori.

Seokjin: Jin is an amazing speaker. I think the actor training has a lot to do with this, but he has such a good voice for narration and when he speaks in korean interviews he sounds super gentle and eloquent. IDK how to describe it, but he has a v specific tone and pauses in a very unique way, making his tone very melodic and almost like a news anchor hahaha. But when he's talking to the guys he loses that formality and he stresses random words that give him a kind of goofy tone? And he uses a lot of expressions like “야” (yah) or “으아” (euah) as sentence fillers. Again, like Joon, no satoori!

Yoongi: oh he's by far the member I have the most trouble understanding. He slurs his words a lot, starting off somewhat strong but almost losing the entire ending of the sentence. I'm sure you know what I mean even if you don't understand him. A friend once mentioned to me that his pronounciation of the letter ㅆ is not as strong as it should be, tending to sound more like a regular 's' sound like in the letter ㅅ. This is apparently due to his accent! Also, like Joon, to me he tends to sound really poetic, maybe more unconciously than Joon bc I feel like he's really deliberate with his words and Yoongi is more spontaneous. As a sentence filler, he clicks his tongue a lot and sucks in air (something I think JK has also taken from him)

Hoseok: Hobi always brings a smile to my face. I think his accent is the most notable (or maybe I just catch it better than the other's, especially since it's different from the rest of the members' given he's from Jeolla.) His entonation varies a lot, it's very melodic but in an energetic way because of this accent. He also ends sentences with 잉, ing, a lot, which leads to those "said cutely" translations. HE LOOVES onomatopoeias and adding random noises when he's doing things or describing smth. He's just a really fun guy to listen to. I noticed he uses 되게 (dwege) as a filler.

Jimin: you were right, anon. Jimin is incredibly soft-spoken and extremely careful about his words, that's why he tends to mutter or start sentences over and over again to convey the feelings he tries to express. This leads into very long sentences, with a lot of what I call 'pleasing' expressions. This is, Korean (like other Asian languages such as Japanese) is a very indirect language. When you want to express your disagreement with something, you don't straight out say 'I don't like this' or if you're telling someone to do smth differently, you don't say 'be careful next time, don't do that'. You say things like 'in the future, i believe that if you are able to do so it might be benefitial if this issue were handled in a different way' (this is a random example). Your sentences get endless bc you add words and politeness that softens the blow of your different opinion. Jimin does that more than other members who tend to be more blunt, like YG, TH or JK. I think this has changed over the years with the growing international fandom, but he used to sound really informal in his vlives to sound like an old friend with armys. now I think he expresses his outmost respect for us by speaking really formally and in ways that are easy to automatically translate. I also read he has some "feminine" speech patterns, since Kr is a very gendered language in the sense that girls and boys have diff sentence endings or words they use. I think this kinda contributes to how softspoken he is.

Taehyung: Tae's speech is all over the place, but he's extremely sensible and I think he offers the most unique metaphors when he's being sentimental. He's very heartwarming, but sometimes it's hard to understand him because he changes the subject, grammatical order or point of his sentences a lot to adjust to the speed in which things are coming out of his mind. This has gotten better over the years, though. I think age has offered him a sense of calm that allows words to flow better than in the early years of bangtan, where he was an excited puppy. He pauses a lot between sentences, saying "ohh" quite often, and he has a bunch of characteristic filler words like 약간 (yakhan, a bit) or 이제 (ije, now). If you watch the run bts ep where they forbid words for each member, I think ije was one of those for Tae.

Jungkook: guys he's so cute. I'm so grateful that he started doing lives more often, bc I always got the impression he struggled to put his thoughts into words more than other members and that's why he shied away from giving speeches. He still has a lot in his mind, but when he's not in a rush, he pauses a lot and stumbles over his words without shame until he gets the thought out. He speaks really really fast when animated, mumbling and slurring his syllables (that's why it's so hard for me to translate the travel show without proper subs.) We all know he has a lisp, I believe it might be a characteristic of his Busan accent, which is quite present on the regular (in contrast with Jimin, who sometimes forces it out, often around JK. He even joked that he was losing it a little). When he's directing his words to army, he tends to be really soft-spoken and formal, speaking in a way that you know comes from a place in his heart. He also uses a lot of onomatopoeias when describing things, and he adds cute endings to his words just like Hobi (my aegyo kings.)

[thatfandomslut]

Color Her Green

Karen Shetty x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Trigger Warnings: SMUT!!! MDNI. cursing, oral (r receiving), v soft smut

Request:

I was wondering if you were open to doing this story idea with Karen! So basically the reader is the well known lesbian of the school. She is very dominant and flirty towards females. She will literally flirt with anyone of the same gender. Karen and the reader have a secret fwb relationship. But Karen wants it to be something more. So one day the reader was flirting with Regina and being very forward with her. Basically trying to get in her pants, and Karen gets jealous and drag the reader away to their secret place and they have a little fight which ends with smut and fluff. Also if you do the smut scene can you have Karen say “baby” and a lot of cute pet names? I hope this was a good idea that you might do!

Mean Girls requests are open.

Karen could admit that she was a bit hurt. How could (Y/n) go from a night causing her to orgasm three times to trying to get into one of her best friend's pants? Right in front of her, no less. Karen felt a little ashamed as she felt jealousy constrict her chest, her eyes narrowing across the hall. Gretchen noticed Karen tense up beside her as she winced, noticing Regina's back pressed against the lock behind her, (Y/n) whispering something in her ear. Whatever (Y/n) said caused Regina to bite her lip before laughing, a finger sliding down (Y/n)'s chest as she did so. The action caused Karen's fingers to twitch before she began to make her way over.

"Karen, Gretchen, hey," (Y/n) greeted, completely ignoring the obvious anger on the girl's face. She still had an arm on a locker beside Regina, not moving. This seemed to only increase the fury bubbling in Karen as she waited for (Y/n) to move. When she didn't, Karen grabbed the arm the helped her lean over to Regina, pulling her outside. Once her arm was released, (Y/n)'s hands went up in a confused sign of surrender. "What the fuck? What's going on?"

A scoff escaped Karen's lips at the apparent confusion on (Y/n)'s face. They had been friends with benefits for over three months, one might think (Y/n) would have the respect to not flirt with one of Karen's best friends. But, color her green, jealousy was radiating off of her along with the anger rolling off her skin. "Why are you flirting with Regina?" She questioned, her arms crossing angrily. She stood in front of (Y/n), stiff. That's how (Y/n) knew that she was in trouble with the girl for some reason. The bubbly smile often adorned by Karen was nowhere in sight. Even her beautiful brown eyes had darkened in anger.

(Y/n) examined Karen for a moment before she began to realize what was going on. "Are you jealous, Karen?" There was a look of momentary disbelief on (Y/n)'s face as she shook her head in shock for a moment. "We're not even exclusive. I don't understand why you're so upset. Before we started this 'friends with benefits' thing, we agreed on no feelings. I don't get why you're now upset with me for flirting with someone else whenever you and I aren't even official." Her words hurt. She had hoped that (Y/n) would eventually feel the same way she did.

Karen supposed that this was now her fault for placing unrealistic expectations on (Y/n). With that said, she was not about to take the fall in this argument. If Regina George taught her anything, it was to never lose an argument. "That doesn't make it okay to flirt with Regina, of all people. I thought there might be boundaries where you wouldn't try to fuck my best friends." Karen stated, hoping her comment had an actual effect. Judging by the deadpan on (Y/n)'s face, it didn't.

"In one of our first conversations, I had asked you if there were any boundaries. All you said was that, if I slept with anyone, you'd want me to use protection and get frequent check-ups to make sure no STDs were being passed around. Both were reasonable and valid requests. You never said anything about flirting with Regina. In fact, I have flirted with her and Gretchen many times before." (Y/n) argued back, crossing her arms the same way Karen had. She was growing annoyed. Of course, she started to develop feelings for Karen. She had been trying to deflect them in fear Karen didn't feel the same. However, feelings being revealed in an argument due to jealousy made (Y/n) too prideful to admit she was wrong. "Why do you have a problem now?"

There was a moment when neither of them spoke, tension thickening in between them. They both knew why there was a problem now. Karen took (Y/n) by the arm, taking them to the outdoor janitor's closet. They found out that it had long since been abandoned and it became their place. They had even cleaned it up once. There was not a speck of dust or dirt in the empty room. Once they entered, (Y/n) looked at Karen with her brows furrowed, still waiting for an answer. No answer was given. Instead, Karen's lips smashed against hers as (Y/n)'s back hit the door as soon as they entered.

A muffled moan escaped (Y/n)'s lips their teeth clashing as they fumbled through each other's clothes clumsily. Karen's hand quickly slipped into (Y/n)'s pants, causing (Y/n)'s back to involuntarily arch, her hips bucking into Karen's hand as she circled her clit with her fingers. "Fuck," she whispered. Karen always knew just where to touch her, and just like Karen knew every inch of her body, (Y/n) knew Karen's. They knew everything that made the other twitch, moan, and cum. Their hands memorized each other's bodies easily. How could (Y/n) try to memorize another woman's body after having become bonded with Karen's? They fit too nicely together. It took only seconds for (Y/n) to feel weak in the knees as her head rested on the door, moans spilling from her lips as sweet as molasses.

Karen smirked a bit at how easily undone she made (Y/n). "You're so pretty, baby," she whispered into (Y/n)'s ear before nipping at her earlobe. The small nip and pleasure building in her abdomen caused (Y/n) to moan again, though she tried to bite them back. Noticing this, Karen let out a soft 'tsk' sound, stopping her movement. This successfully caused (Y/n) to whine, looking at Karen with pleading eyes. This only caused victory to build in Karen as she shook her head softly. "Don't hide those pretty sounds from me, baby, or I'll have to stop. Understood?" Karen removed her hand, unbuckling (Y/n)'s jeans as she waited for a response.

(Y/n) noted all of the mischievous thoughts that were behind Karen's usually thoughtless, but beautiful brown eyes. (Y/n) swallowed thickly, unable to get her words out. "Yes, pretty girl, understood." She agreed and Karen let out a soft hum in appreciation. (Y/n) needed Karen, but she was going agonizingly slow with her actions. The sound of the bell sounded in their room, but neither budged. Instead, Karen continued her actions, not caring about the look (Y/n) was giving her. "Please, baby, I need you," (Y/n) pleaded only causing a small smile to form on Karen's lips. But no action was quickened by this.

"I'm not going to start until you promise to never flirt with my friends again," Karen said, blowing on (Y/n)'s clit. An easy tease tactic that worked every. fucking. time. (Y/n) groaned, her hands making their way into Karen's curly hair. This was an action always appreciated by Karen. She loved it when (Y/n)'s mind was so foggy, she had no clue where her hands went. "Well, answer me, baby. Are you going to flirt with any of my friends again?"

(Y/n) licked her bottom lip before sucking it in. "N-no, Karen," she finally got out, her fingers twitching slightly as they tangled in her curls. "I won't flirt with them ever again. I-I only want to be yours. I want to be your girlfriend." There was a moment where both were surprised by her words and to suppress her grin, Karen quickly got to work. Her nose accidentally bumped into (Y/n)'s sensitive clit as she began eating her out like she was her last meal. And, maybe she was, they weren't guaranteed another minute. She had to take (Y/n) like she could be. Not that (Y/n) was complaining as curses and moans filled the air around them.

It wasn't long until (Y/n) found herself close to her orgasm. "Fuck, baby girl, I'm so, so close. You're doing so good." She moaned out, and Karen kept the perfect pace she had. As (Y/n) came, her legs became shaky. She forced herself to stay standing, though the objective was hard with Karen riding out her high. "Shit, my love, you're so fucking perfect." (Y/n) cried out, leaning back on the wall for support. Karen pulled away, helping (Y/n) back into her underwear and pants, wiping her chin with her arm. (Y/n) pulled her in, kissing her deeply before either could say anything.

Karen was in a deep state of happiness before realizing they still needed to discuss just what (Y/n) had said. "Did you mean it? Do you actually want us to be girlfriends?" Karen questioned, looking at the way (Y/n)'s chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. It was obvious the orgasm, the kiss, and Karen had stolen (Y/n)'s breath as she nodded softly. When she whispered out a soft 'yes,' Karen had grinned a bit. "But not because of our fight or sex right?" She questioned carefully, not wanting to accuse (Y/n)'s feelings of being fake. She just wanted to be sure given the previous state of their relationship.

(Y/n) understood completely as she cupped Karen's cheeks. Leaning in, she pressed a gentle kiss on Karen's forehead. "I really mean it. I have felt something more than friends with benefits for a while. I just… I didn't want to ruin what we had. Instead of doing the right thing and communicating how I felt… I flirted with Regina. I'm sorry for that." (Y/n) apologized, having finally caught her breath. Karen smiled a bit at this fixing (Y/n)'s hair gently.

"It's okay," Karen confirmed with a gentle nod. She leaned in, kissing (Y/n). This time, their kiss was soft and slow. It still held the same passion, only it wasn't a kiss that would be followed up by sex. The two basked in each other's presence, time being lost as they finally parted away. "I should be apologizing, too. The way I approached the situation was wrong. Instead of trying to talk, I just argued instead. I just like you, a lot, and seeing you with Regina hurt. But, we're over that now."

(Y/n) kissed her again, but not a lasting kiss. Instead, it was chaste. "It's okay, we're passed it." (Y/n) said softly before kissing the tip of Karen's nose gently. "We're so past it that if you wanted to give me a hickey to show everyone that I'm yours, I would welcome and invite it." The two of them laughed, knowing it was a joke, but Karen still took her up on the offer. It was hard to not make love to Karen right then and there as she sucked the sweet spot on (Y/n)'s neck, revealing a dark bruise on her neck. Karen admired her work with a smirk as she kissed the sensitive spot softly to soothe it.

"Now, if someone flirts with you, you can say you have a girlfriend." Karen winked playfully, and (Y/n) laughed gently. She leaned over, fixing Karen's hair, and using her thumb, she un-smudged Karen's lipstick. The two of them continued to fix each other before they walked out of their special place. They had missed their homeroom and first period, plus a small portion of the second period, but neither of them cared. "See you at lunch."

As the two separated, the goofy grins on their faces due to them finally being official never dropped. As soon as Karen entered the second period, Gretchen already adorned a knowing and supportive smile, asking for all the details. Karen didn't share every single thing, but she did tell Gretchen about how she and (Y/n) were now official. For the rest of the day, nothing could ruin either of their moods. Especially not when (Y/n) was proudly showing her hickey to anyone who stared too long.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Hermione Baddeley (Brighton Rock, Passport to Pimlico, Mary Poppins)— An absolute mainstay of British films from this period. She’s an icon who never takes shit from anyone in any of her movies, dresses for the occasion, and has the best line delivery! Also she started out in silent movies, and was a close friend of Noel Coward. In a desperate attempt to appeal to a large tumblr fandom, I will also point out that her first husband and one of her children were both called David Tennant. You like that name, don’t you tumblr??

Glynis Johns (Mary Poppins, The Court Jester)—LISTEN, I'd let that woman's voice with all its gravely hoarseness (positive) wash over me all goddamn day, but if that's not enough she managed to play the straight woman to Danny Kaye's jester, all with her cleavage so plunging it might as well have been catapulted into the ocean right after Basil Rathbone

This is round 1 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Glynis Johns propaganda:

She walks the line between sexy and cute. Her best role for me is in "The Court Jester as Maid Jean. She's fantastic as the soft but tough captain of the outlaw band and she looks stunning in every gown she wears throughout the film. And of course we can't forget her iconic turn as the suffragette mother, Mrs. Banks, in Mary Poppins! Also shoutout to her distinctive and beautiful voice, kind of smoky and husky. Extremely hot and set her apart from many of her peers."

"Listen, listen. I was raised on Mary Poppins and "Votes for women! (step in time)" single-handedly taught me how to be a feminist. Also The Court Jester is one of my favourite movies of all time and she is UNBELIEVABLY gorgeous, charismatic, funny, and clever in it. She knocks several men out. Absolute icon."

"Like Bette Davis she has eyes to die for. Unlike Bette Davis you felt comforted by them, even when she was batting her eyelashes at you. Would glady go to Downing Street with her and throw things at the Prime minister"

"She had this wonderful wit and charm to her no matter the role and the most distinctive, striking voice!"

"She was amazing in Mary Poppins (the Suffragette song is severely underrated) and apparently she was Welsh? National pride! And she advocated for arts funding in Wales, which is very cool. Also, she died recently (RIP) making her one of the last survivors of the Golden Age of Hollywood, according to Wikipedia. Also also, she just has a cheeky energy I like? And her eyes are beautiful!"

"I mean, incredibly beautiful and talented, can do drama can do comedy. And she was a mermaid."

"I love Glynis Johns. Most of the reason is The Court Jester where she's a sensible and capable foil to whatever what going on with Danny Kaye at the time. She was also the first star I based an OC on. An OC that I still have to this day! Anyway here have some YouTube links love u bye"

Mermaid clip: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/1jUEA03mYTk

Court Jester (sharing a bed trope): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5d_qG9i054U

Court Jester (seducing the king): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-GuqFYElKg

"VOTES FOR WOMEN! Well, votes for this woman. Please."

Hermione Baddeley propaganda:

Propaganda for both Hermione and Glynis:

[waynes-multiverse]

Rehab – Chapter 7

Series Summary: Thanks to Soldier Boy, the CIA was able to develop Project Bloom under the fierce leadership of Grace Mallory: a final cure to Compound V and a hopeful end to the supe epidemic three years after the explosive incident at Vought. A secret rehab facility in Upstate New York is supposed to help former heroes find their way back to humanity. The catch, though? Soldier Boy has never fucking agreed to any of this shit and is surely not happy about being powerless for the first time in his goddamn long life.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, light smut, fluff, angst

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the warm responses (and loud screams) last week. Feels good to be back and cause some chaos here. Enjoy this one! It's all downhill from here 💚

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

<< Chapter 6 || Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Chapter 7: make up sex

Ben carefully traces the marks on her skin with his fingertips, her naked back illuminated by the soft spring morning glow that streams in through the window. Tenderly, he kisses a path down her shoulder and hears her giggle at the tickling of his beard.

He loves her. Yet, she’s too good for him. Maybe he could change, though. He feels the endless possibilities pumping through his veins.

“Morning, my love.”

Ben smiles when she stretches her limbs with a blissful yawn and turns to face him. He leans down and claims her lips in a bruising kiss as if they were his newest addiction. Who knows? They might just be.

“Morning, stud.” Y/N’s smile is brighter than the sun and lights the way to his dark heart. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, doll.” Ben kisses her deeply and swallows the cute little giggles that escape through her mouth, his heart full of happiness.

Ben wakes cruelly as a bucket of ice water is dumped over him and hits him full frontal. He shivers as he wipes the remaining water out of his face, hair, and eyes with the hem of his dirty white t-shirt before blinking and glaring at the guard with the sadistic smile in front of him.

“Morning, shithead.” The guard snickers and slides a tray of runny eggs over to him. “Breakfast.”

It’s been six months since the former supe has last seen Y/N. After his outburst, they put him down like a wild dog with rabies, but Ben wasn’t one for giving up. He tried five more times to escape the rehab facility and killed three nurses before they threw him into solitary. He’s proud of that number. He’d never forgive himself if he went down without a fight.

A part of him hoped they’d kill him for it, but his luck has apparently run out.

Ben’s been imprisoned in this bleak cell ever since. He didn’t even know this place existed. It’s located deep underground in the clinic’s basement. There’s no sun and no warmth. There’s only him, gray and cold concrete, fluorescent lights, and a whole bunch of nothing. The scratch marks on the wall tell him he’s been here nineteen weeks.

His beard is unkempt and wild, as is his hair. He hasn’t seen a mirror in an eternity, but he probably looks like a caveman by now. Reeks and feels like one, too. The only showers he gets are the ice baths that wake him every morning. Unfortunately, that’s not the only torture they’ve thought of. There are other punishments, too, but nothing as bad as what the Commies did to him.

American pussies…

“There’s someone here to see you, champ,” the guard says as he comes to collect the empty tray.

Ben tried to starve himself once before, but that only got him a tube stuffed down his throat. Whoever’s in charge clearly wants to keep him alive and suffering.

There’s a jolt in his gut that bounces to his forlorn and desolate heart, a shimmer of hope burning brightly inside of him that direly wants to convince him that the love of his life has found him. A drop of precious water in the concrete desert. And if she’s not getting him out, at least she’s visiting.

By now, he knows that’s not the case, though. In fact, he’s pretty damn sure Y/N doesn’t even know he’s here, living her life topside, outside, and carefree. Free of him.

A vicious circle that keeps repeating itself.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Ben mutters disinterestedly. Whoever has come to see him surely isn’t worthy of it. After all, he suspects it is just plain ol’ Mallory. She’s come by a few times to lecture him about consequences with that self-satisfied smirk of hers.

“You don’t look well, old friend,” a man’s voice chimes through the cold cell.

Curiously, Ben’s head raises with his brow as he squints his green eyes at the black man in front of him. The voice sounds familiar, as do the man’s features.

“Stan Edgar. I’ll be damned.” A laugh almost escapes him at the realization. “Didn’t think you were still the fuck alive. You got fucking old.”

“I could say the same thing, Soldier Boy,” Edgar retorts as he takes off his glasses and cleans them with a pristine white handkerchief. “Or is it Ben now? I can see the gray in your beard even from here.”

At Edgar’s amused smile, Ben balls his fists, wishing he could wipe off that smug grin. He gets it. Everyone greatly enjoys his downfall, being reminded once again what a shitty asshole he used to be. Y/N really was right when she said that people don’t forgive and forget. So far, it’s been Ben’s experience as well.

“What the fuck do you want, huh? Just came here to fucking laugh and gloat?” Ben prompts, his patience wearing thin. He’s not a zoo animal. He doesn’t need to be gawked at.

“I have a proposal for you if you’re interested,” Edgar says cryptically and dangles a metaphorical carrot in front of his nose. “I heard you’d like to see your girlfriend, right?”

Ben sighs deeply. He knows the game they’re playing. He’s played it a million times before, especially with Vought, and wonders if he ever actually won at it. He used to believe he did, but not anymore.

“And what do you want in return, huh? What’s the catch?”

In response, Edgar’s lips curve into a triumphant smirk.

Nervously, Ben clears his throat several times and fidgets with his fingers, close to biting off his nails. His hand runs through and scratches his trimmed beard. It feels weird to have it short again after so many months.

Once he set foot outside the clinic, his green eyes even had to adjust to the brightness of the sun. It’s been so long since his pupils have actually seen natural daylight. His lungs practically inhaled the oxygen provided by air that’s fresh and wasn’t filtered and smelled fabricated. Those few molecules of realness were life-supplying in the literal sense.

Ben unfolds the crumbled piece of paper in his left hand with an address written on it and checks once more if he’s got the right apartment, even though he’s already done that a couple of times. 5B it reads on his piece of paper and the apartment door with golden letters.

One more swallow, and his knuckles hesitantly tap the wood. Then, his boot taps the floor in a manic beat until he hears the door unlock.

“Ben…” Y/N’s brow furrows. She seems both bewildered and pleasantly surprised. But then worry spreads across her delicate features, looking suspiciously left and right down the hallway. “What are you doing here? How did you get out?”

Ben can’t form a functioning sentence for the life of him. He keeps trying, but his mind is too preoccupied with taking her in – every little bit of her. The color spectrum of her brilliant eyes, the shape of her godforsaken lips, the shine and flow of her hair, and the freckles that grace her perfect skin. She’s still the girl he met a year ago. The girl from his memories. The girl from his dreams.

He also takes note of the changes, though, because she’s surely changed a lot, too. And it’s not just the new clothes she’s wearing that aren’t hoodies and sweats or the different length and slight change of color of her hair. It’s first and foremost the glowing aura of happiness that cloaks her entire being.

She’s a masterpiece, and he can’t help but keep staring at her like she’s an exhibition at the Louvre.

“Ben, say something. Wha–,” she starts anew when he still hasn’t said a word.

“I’m sorry,” he cuts in. The words come out so fast, it’s just one word altogether, really. But he’s been wanting to say them to her for so long, practiced them every day in his cell that they just escaped him in a blurb.

“I. Am. Sorry,” Ben repeats more slowly and coherently. “Look, uhm, I’m not good at this shit. There’s about a million different speeches that I’ve prepared over the last few months, and I figured once I saw you, I’d know which one to pick…”

“Ben–”

“Just let me say this, alright?” Ben interjects and gulps nervously. Being locked up and lonely for months, he’s had plenty of time to think about his mistakes and find ways to fix them. “I’m so sorry for what I did, Y/N. I was, uhm… hurt, and I lashed out, and this should’ve never happened. I know people don’t forgive and forget. Trust me, I know… But still, I’m hoping you can. Just this once? You think you can do that?”

Ben’s a shadow of his former self. A broken shell of a man. And while one would think that’s a bad thing, it’s truly not. His hardened armor, shield and suit, peeled from his skin and revealed a soft core of heart, hope and humanity underneath it.

“Wow, uhm…” Y/N gasps, speechless as her head bobs in both acknowledgment and thought. “That’s–, uhm, that’s a lotta words. Especially coming from you.” A soft and tender smile forms on her mouth as she chews on her lower lip. “Always thought your generation was more the silent type.”

“I’m full of surprises, doll.” Ben shrugs endearingly and adds a wink, parts of his charm returning. He matches her smile as his heart fills with hope. Not all is lost. At least she hasn’t slammed the door in his face. Yet. “So? Do you forgive me?”

Ben doesn’t care if the world forgives him for his sins. He doesn’t care if God or what- and whoever forgives him. He doesn’t care about the people he hurt in the past. He doesn’t care about the lives and families he’s destroyed. He knows he’s done wrong – a lot of wrong – and he also knows he can never ever fix any of it.

Yes, Ben doesn’t care about a lot of things, but he cares about Y/N. And he cares if she forgives him.

Y/N’s eyes brim with tears as she fights to keep the smile on her face alive. “Only if you can forgive me,” she says quietly as her throat closes, making it harder to breathe. “I’m sorry, too. I never meant all those things I said to you that night. I was just scared.”

“Of me?” Ben cocks an eyebrow, simultaneously puzzled and afraid of the answer.

Luckily, Y/N shakes her head. “Yes… and no, it was never about you, you know? I knew if I let you in fully, I’d never leave the clinic. I would’ve stayed for you. Forever,” she explains. “And I also know I played a role in what you did. I mean, I didn’t technically push you into another woman,” she mutters sourly and continues with a deep exhale through her nose, “But I know I pushed you too far… You’re not the only one who’s broken, you know?”

“So, what does that mean? What do we do now?” Ben asks. This is truly as far as he’s thought ahead. A part of him even believed she wouldn’t open the door for him in the first place. To say he feels lost right now would be an understatement. After all, it’s the first time in his long life he’s doing a big Soldier Boy Apology Tour.

“Two broken halves make a whole, right?” Y/N sends him a weak smile that he mirrors.

“I mean, yeah.” Ben chuckles with keen nods, scratching the back of his neck. “I never graduated high school, but that sounds like fucking perfect math to me.”

“Good.” Y/N laughs, her smile rising. She takes a deep breath and swallows the goddamn lump in her throat that’s sat there for half a year. “I love you.”

Ben’s heart crashes. For a second, he even doubts he made it out of that dark cell in the first place because this surely feels like a dream. He might have even died and against all odds went to Heaven.

He can’t hold himself back any longer, every muscle in his body trembling at the sound of those glorious three words. He never thought language could have such a massive impact on him.

The dam then breaks, but he’ll be damned if he lets her witness a single tear. Instead, he pulls her close to his massive body and presses his lips on hers. He kisses her so hard that they both see not only stars but different galaxies altogether.

For a moment, he worries if she’s going to reject him once more. But she doesn’t. On the contrary, her arms drape around his neck and pull him so close they might as well merge into one single entity. She deepens the kiss with a newfound need until they’re both breathless and blue in the face.

Ben, however, would’ve gladly died from the lack of oxygen. What a way to go out after a hundred years…

Resting her forehead on his, Y/N pants heavily as her hands slide down to his broad chest and hold onto his shirt as if he might disappear into thin air if she doesn’t.

“I love you, Y/N. You’re the only friend I ever had. You’re everything to me,” he mumbles into her hair and kisses the top of her head. He closes his eyes and breathes in her scent, trying to memorize it all. It almost killed him when he couldn’t recall it during his captivity.

She smiles broadly and looks up at him. “Wanna come inside?”

Ben nods softly, reining in some of his eagerness. “I’d love to.”

“I see the vinyl collection has grown,” Ben notes with a happy chuckle as he takes in her apartment, his eyes glued on the oakwood shelf that consumes an entire wall and reaches up to the ceiling, filled from top to bottom with records. “You’re gonna need a bigger place soon.”

“Yeah, I spend a lot of time in record stores these days. Not to mention half my paychecks…” Y/N laughs as she prepares a pot of coffee in the small kitchen, her cheeks flushing as her adorable dimples make an appearance.

Ben’s missed them, too. He thinks they’re always more prominent when he makes her laugh.

“You work?” His brow shoots up at that information, a curious smile curving his mouth.

While he was locked up for months, he has wondered every single night what she was up to, what her life must look like now, before his eyes grew too tired and closed, ending another grueling day without her. He always hoped, though, that she was happy wherever she was.

“Yeah, I’m interning right now at an orphanage and taking night classes at a community college, so I can become a social worker,” she replies with a sheepish smile.

His face lights up, his smile spreading from ear to ear. “College, huh? That’s great. I’m fucking proud of you.”

It’s a phrase Ben always wanted to hear – from his father, from the world. It’s something he imagined he’d say to his sons someday, but he never got the chance. Frankly, neither him nor any offspring of his deserved to hear it. Y/N, on the other hand, does.

She deserves the world and so much more. Could Ben ever give it all to her?

“Thanks.” Y/N blushes even more and hands him a mug with coffee.

These past months have been hard for her, too. She’s tried to build a life for herself, a future worth living, and not fall into a dark hole like so many former supes before her. She’s had no one on the outside. Nights and days got rather lonely until she made some friends at work and college. It took a long while until she didn’t feel lost anymore and found her purpose.

And yet, she never felt complete. Her mind always raced back to him, wondering what he might think of her if he could see her now. Ben haunted her hopes and dreams every single day since she’s left the clinic, wishing he’d be right here by her side.

“I work at a former supe orphanage. Mallory arranged it. They actually managed to cure every single kid without losses. Now, we’re just trying to find them good homes,” Y/N tells him excitedly, beaming with pride. “For the first time in my life, I finally feel like I’m making a difference. I’m doing something good.”

“That’s awesome,” Ben says, smiling. “But for the record, you’ve made a difference even before that. You’ve changed my life.”

“Right back at you,” Y/N replies and then her smile shines brighter than the sun itself. It’s blinding. “There’s a boy at the home that actually reminds me a lot of you. And not just because you two share a name.”

Ben curiously arches an eyebrow, smirking. “Yeah?”

“Yes, cocky son of a bitch,” she says with a laugh. Ben chuckles at that. Y/N then saunters closer to him as if she can’t stand to be apart from him a minute longer. It makes his heart race faster than a rocket to the moon. “I thought a lot about you. Actually, there’s not a day that went by where I didn’t think about you, you know?”

“Yeah, same, my love,” Ben replies and chokes down the damn lump in his throat. When did he become such a fucking sap?

“I wanted to visit you at the clinic a couple of times, but they wouldn’t let me,” Y/N tells him then, sadness shimmering in her eyes. “They said you moved on and didn’t want to see me, but I had a feeling that wasn’t true.”

Ben tries not to get goddamn angry at her words. It was one thing to torture him. Throw ice water on him every morning, electrocute and burn him, but fucking lie to her? Making her believe he didn’t want to see her when that’s all he wanted this goddamn time? Those bastards are lucky he doesn’t have his nuclear powers anymore, or they’d all be turned to ash.

But the past doesn’t matter anymore. It took him almost a century to learn that lesson. What matters, though, is that he’s here right now. With her.

Even when you’ve lived forever, time is precious. It’s a gift you don’t waste, no matter if you have an abundance of it.

With one stride, Ben’s in front of her and cups her cheeks, looking deeply into her tear-filled eyes. “It’s not true. I never moved on, okay? Every single day, I would’ve died and killed someone to see you, alright? Believe me.”

Y/N nods in his palms and hugs his hands with her own. “Are you alright? What did they do to you? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” Ben assures her but knows Y/N won’t buy his lie. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine now, okay?”

“Did you escape? Because if you did, we can’t stay here. They’ll find you here,” Y/N worries, and he can see the panic rising in her features.

“I didn’t escape. They let me go, alright?” Ben says but can already see her mouth opening again with more questions, so he resorts to kissing them shut. “As I said, don’t worry, my love. We’ll talk about this later, and I promise I’ll tell you everything, okay?”

Even though she’s reluctant, she agrees with a weak nod. “Okay.”

“Now, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do for months,” Ben announces and smirks slyly.

Y/N matches his smile and meets him halfway as he fiercely claims her lips in a searing kiss. On tiptoes, she then hoists herself up and tightly wraps her legs around his waist as he carries her promptly to the bedroom.

With a giggle, she’s dropped onto the mattress as Ben hungrily trails kisses from her cheek to her jawline and down her neck. Eagerly, he unzips her jeans and shimmies them down her smooth legs, leaving her only in a pair of onyx lace panties.

“Were you expecting someone?” Suspiciously, Ben lifts an eyebrow. He wouldn’t hold it against her if she found someone during the time they were apart, but he sure as hell wouldn’t be happy about it.

Well, okay, that’s a lie. In fact, he’d like the guy’s address so he can commit a murder.

Y/N giggles in response. “No, I’m just really bad at doing laundry. Those were the only clean ones left,” she explains. Internally, he sighs in relief. “I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

The look she gives him is one powerful guilt trip since they both know he can’t say the same. Christ on a fucking stick, he feels shitty. During all the times he’s cheated on Crimson Countess (and there were many), he’s never felt like this before and can’t say that he particularly enjoys this feeling.

Softly, he rests his forehead on hers and pecks her lips, his fingers gingerly stroking her cheek. “I’ll never fucking do that to you again. I promise.”

Y/N nods. “I know. I believe you.”

“It’s just you and me from now on, alright? Us against the world,” Ben assures her.

“Like Sid and Nancy?” Y/N grins teasingly up at him. “Or Ross and Rachel? Beyoncé and Jay-Z? But without Becky…”

“I have no fucking clue who those people are.” He chuckles, placing another kiss on her cheek. “But yeah, like Sid and Nancy. Bonnie and Clyde. Whatever you want, doll.”

More kisses follow, wet and hot as he works his way down her body. He has missed touching someone’s warm skin. He has missed hearing someone’s laugh that wasn’t full of cruelty. He has missed feeling loved and adored. He has missed feeling freedom and peace. And most of all, Ben has missed her.

Y/N’s breathing grows more labored with every inch he climbs down her body. His fingers hook into the elastic of her panties, feeling his hot breath on her mound before he flings the fabric across the room. His length brushes between her thighs, hard and thick, and elicits little jolts of electricity on her skin that travel through her nerve endings and cause goosebumps of anticipation to form.

“Fuck, Ben,” she moans and arches her back as he pulls the little sensitive nub between his teeth and sucks.

The former hero chuckles in delight at her reaction. “Oh, my love, I’m just getting started…”

Gentle and soft, Ben kisses her naked shoulder blade, trailing a flock of kisses down her spine till he reaches the beginnings of her asscheeks and hears her adorable giggle.

“That tickles,” Y/N says, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah? You know, I actually had a dream about this,” Ben says with a peck on her crown.

Y/N cocks a curious eyebrow at that and rolls in his embrace, facing him. “Really? Tell me.”

“Well, it was a lot like this,” Ben starts. “And then…”

“And then what?” Y/N prompts when he abruptly trails off.

“And then… you told me you loved me,” Ben confesses and clears his throat. He’s not used to open and emotional pillow talk, but Y/N makes it easy, practically forces his emotions to the surface like a mountain spring.

Y/N grins broadly up at him. “I do love you.”

“Yeah? You sure?” A hint of insecurity haunts his juniper eyes. How many times has he been placated and lied to? At this point, it’s too damn many to count. “You’re not just fucking saying that, right?”

“And what exactly would I get out of it?” Y/N reframes his question, licking her amble lips. Sometimes asking the right question is more telling than an answer. “Money? Fame? You have neither.”

Ben clicks his tongue and purses his lips. “That was somehow both relieving and fucking insulting. How the hell did you do that?”

Y/N laughs and innocently twitches her shoulders. “It’s a talent.”

“Well, I’m gonna take notes. Jesus fucking Christ…” Ben cards a hand through his messy hair and shakes his head at her, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose.

Y/N then cups his cheeks, fingers softly caressing his beard. Her eyes wander down his body, finding scars and bruises that haven’t been there the last time she has seen him. “Ben, are you alright? What happened to you?”

The fallen supe then glances down his own chest and knows exactly what she means by her question. Yet, he brushes her off with a smile and grabs her hand, kissing her knuckles. “Nothing, my love. I told you I’m fine.”

Knowing it’s impossible to get answers out of him, Y/N nods. “I think now is ‘later,’” she states, thinking back to last night’s unfinished conversation. “How did you get out? What did you do?”

Ben presses his plush lips into a thin line, tongue poking his bearded cheeks. “Don’t worry about it.”

Y/N heaves a sigh and gently kisses his lips. “Ben, if you want us to be a team and ‘us against the world,’ you can’t keep things from me,” she tells him. “I’m your partner. Your ride or die. I’m here for you, no matter what. But you gotta tell me what’s up. You can’t always protect me.”

“I can try,” he mumbles sweetly and places another precious kiss on her hairline.

“And if there are more bad guys to kill and maim, you’re free to do so.” Y/N smiles softly, causing him to chuckle. “Please just tell me what’s going on.”

Ben’s head bobs in thought before replying, “I made a deal.”

Her brow furrows, an eerie feeling spreading in her stomach. “What kinda deal?”

“If I do this, then I’m a free man afterward. We can be together. For real, Y/N,” he says with a hopeful undertone that resembles a fairytale. Only Y/N knows those don’t really exist.

“Do what? What deal did you make, Ben? And with who?”

The bad feeling in her stomach only grows. Y/N knows only too well how the CIA works. They wait for their target to become weak, vulnerable, and hopeless. God knows Ben was exactly all those things when he first set foot inside the rehab clinic.

“An old friend visited me in lock-up. Proposed something,” Ben replies mysteriously.

Y/N’s brow wrinkles some more. “Ben, I don’t mean to sound offensive, but you don’t have old friends.”

The former supe snorts, amused. “I’m aware. And trust me, I don’t like this fucker either, but the deal was too good to be true.”

“That’s probably because it is,” Y/N throws in.

“Probably. But I still have to take it,” Ben maintains, his green eyes desperate and pleading.

“Who was it? Who came to see you?”

“Ever heard of Stan Edgar?”

Shocked, Y/N’s brow raises to her hairline. “The former CEO of Vought International?!”

But then Ben’s the one who’s surprised. “That motherfucker made it to CEO? Who would’ve thought…”

“Ben, focus,” Y/N snaps. “This isn’t a history lesson.”

“Well, he used to manage Payback back in the 80s. Now he’s apparently in it with Mallory and the CIA,” Ben explains. “They need my help. In exchange, I get my freedom.”

Y/N, however, scowls in annoyance. “Ben, I swear to God, if you don’t stop beating around the bush soon, I’ll fucking strangle you myself.”

Ben laughs and pecks her lips. “I love it when you’re feisty. It’s sexy…”

“Ben!”

“Alright, don’t get hyster–” At her glare, he abruptly stops mid-sentence and swallows thickly. “Calm down, okay? I can handle it.”

“Handle what?!”

Ben licks his lips and clicks his tongue. He supposes there’s no way around it anymore. He has to spit it out. He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Apparently, they’ve got Homelander.”

Confused, Y/N’s head tilts, more creases forming on her brow. At this point, she’s worried they’ll stay permanently – all because of this asshole in her bed. “What do you mean ‘they’ve got Homelander’? Got him how?”

“According to Edgar, the CIA has him locked up somewhere,” Ben replies.

“Would explain why the news has been so peaceful and quiet recently,” Y/N muses cynically as her head begins to spin. “But wait a minute… if they’ve already got him, what do they want you to do? Why are you telling me all of this?”

Ben lets out a deep sigh. He knew from the start she’d never approve. “They wanna cure him. You know, like us.”

“Okay, so?” Y/N shrugs, not putting the puzzle pieces together. “They want you to kill him after?” But then, her eyes widen as she realizes the sinister plan. “No… No! Ben, no! You can’t do this! You’re gonna die! Have you learned nothing from your last glorious deal with Billy Butcher?”

Ben sighs anew. “Y/N, I know, my love. I know, alright? But I’m the only one who can get close enough to him.”

“How do you know that, huh?” Y/N questions, throwing her arms up. “The last time the two of you were in a room together, it didn’t go so well. Who says he ain’t gonna kill you as soon as he sees you?”

“‘Cause he’s a pathetic fucking cunt with daddy issues. I can work that angle,” Ben insists, acting like he’s got it all perfectly figured out.

His ego surely thinks so. It’s as old and as big as the goddamn Titanic. Y/N prays it won’t sink just as fast.

“Oh, so you wanna trick your petri dish son long enough to ram a needle into his goddamn throat? That’s your fucking plan?” Y/N lifts a sarcastic eyebrow. “Are you fucking insane?!”

“Look, I know it’s risky–”

“Risky?” Y/N interrupts him faster than a gunshot and scoffs. “Ben, fucking without a condom – that’s risky. It’s like asking for an STD! This mission is just plain stupid and, frankly, suicidal!”

Ben remains quiet until her chest stops heaving and calms. He nods in understanding before finding her eyes and locking gazes. “I know all of that. But there’s no other choice. I have to do this. This is my chance to make it right.”

Y/N shakes her head vehemently, her mind in denial. “No, no… I don’t believe that.” She jumps out of bed and hauls a duffel bag from her closet, throwing everything her hands can grab inside of it. “We can go. We can leave right now and go to Mexico… or Alaska. Nova Scotia!”

Ben chuckles lightly, scooting across the mattress to her, and grabs her frantic hands, kissing them gently. “Y/N, stop. We can’t leave. You and I both know there’s at least three SUVs full of agents parked outside and surrounding that building,” he says and watches her realize their dire situation in horror and despair. “This is the only way.”

“We can shoot our way outta here. I’m pretty sure my neighbor is an arms dealer,” Y/N suggests weakly, sniffling. She didn’t necessarily pick the best neighborhood.

“I don’t think we’d make it, Bonnie.”

Old Ben, Soldier Boy, would’ve shot himself out of that apartment building, even blast himself out of it, no questions asked. He also wouldn’t have cared if Y/N got hurt or even died in the midst of it. After all, narcissistic assholes don’t care much about anything but themselves. But New Ben surely does. He cares more than he sometimes likes to admit. And most of all, he’s certainly not a big risk-taker when it comes to her safety.

“But what if you die? What then?” she whispers as tears roll down her rosy cheeks.

Ben catches them with his thumb and wipes them away, smiling warmly. “At least then, there’s finally someone who’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

Y/N catches his lips in a deep and desperate kiss, only interrupted by her sniffles. “Of course I’d miss your stupid ass.”

Ben laughs and places his palms on her hips, pulling her between his thighs as her arms lock around his neck. “Good,” he says with another kiss on her lips. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

But no matter how much distraction he provides, her worries refuse to dissipate. “When is this gloriously insane plan happening?”

Licking his lips, Ben inhales deeply. “Tonight.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Chapter 8: sid & nancy

And the plot thickens! Last chapter plus an epilogue coming next week! 💚

Is this a good time to remind you that this series doesn't necessarily have a super happy ending? 👀

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27

Rehab Series: @nancymcl @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @sparkydonugh

[jazzyblusnowflake]

I saw your post about your Nuzi headcanons and I have to say THEY ARE ADORABLE!

But it got me thinking, do you have any Vuzi headcanons?

I don't why but I've become obsessed with them in the past while and I wanted to know if you had any ideas for them since you made that incredible Vuzi comic a while back.

oh jeesums, i didn't really expect people to like my HCs enough for it to get over a hundred likes 😭😭😭💕

but yesss id love to take a swing at writing down my subconsciously decided vuzi headcanons too XD so lessee-

Some Vuzi Headcanons i got òvó:

[once again only the drone version ones and as sfw as i can manage lmao sorry asddjfkdfl-]

This version being for AFTER everything is over with and V is ALIVE //or I'm going for Liam's neck personally//- but whether she's with N too or not is for your own interpretation, cuz for ME personally she gets with Uzi AFTER N and Uzi were already a thing together-

Starting a bit similar to the previous HCs, unlike with N, Uzi and V looooooooooooove calling eachother names- ranging from pet names to petty insults, they very hardly call each other their actual names lmao; and Uzi is probably the ONLY person that could get to call V pet names or flirt with her and get away unscathed- V has very little tolerance for anyone else. when actually trying to be intimate or flirty- Uzi loves calling V "Kitty" [cliche i know] and its one of the more acceptable pet names that V allows, but sometimes Uzi goes for pet names to actually make V blush and feel flustered, and those are usually from Uzis more compassionate side since V is allergic to romance apparently 🙄. calling V things like "my pretty", "gorgeous", "you wild thing"- drives V up the wall and she's stuck between wanting to bite Uzi's face off or rip her own off- and likewise when V wants to fluster Uzi she has her own range of heat fueled pet names like "baby bat/batsy", "cutie", "my little snacc"- and overall their job is to try and drive eachother insane lmao. less romantic names on both their sides would be=> [Uzi]: fatty, insufferable nutcase, dumb boob// [V]: shorty, edgy toaster, lil freakshow- and etc etc. TLDR: names.... they call eachother alot of names. that's it lmao.

They have a more avoidant relationship, where N and Uzi would seek comfort in one another, Uzi and V realize when the other isn't feeling well they need space to let off steam and trust one another enough that the other will come to them when they are ready. this isn't the most perfect way to deal with things given they are usually on a time crunch and need to get over their traumas quickly, but in the end they both know they are there for eachother when it matters the most.

teasing.... they do alot of that- although one would argue that V is the only one winning here 😭. V would not let the subject of Uzi being short go- if there's any moment that she could make the joke, she will not let the opportunity pass- anything relating to flustering or embarrassing Uzi absolutely goes- its not uncommon for N to walk in on the two fighting while V is just laughing and cooing at the other that she's just a cute lil baby while Uzi is trying her best to strangle the other without actually harming her. but then Uzi says that V is just a big dumb boob cuz that's all she could see from her pov and N is desperately trying to keep himself from laughing in the background-

V loves picking up Uzi.... that's it... she would never admit it out loud, but holding Uzi up, whether on her back or holding her from the front and feeling Uzi cling to her for support gives her immense internal joy, even if she doesn't show it in her expression. she often prefers picking Uzi up when they make out and this works in both their favors too cuz Uzi loves being taller lmao.

V wouldn't admit it but she is terrified of Uzi getting angry. like actually, genuinely, furiously LIVID level of angry Uzi is enough to make V curl her tail between her legs and just step away slowly. and Uzi.... when Uzi is mad, she talks sickeningly sweet to V. that's how V knows its time to fucking RUN or PERISH.

V is a lot more traumatized than N from Cyn's influence. during her comatosed state she can still vividly remember all the things Cyn had done to her in her mindspace, the same way N got to see all of his own mangled bodies in his own headspace, but unlike N she remembered all of it, hence why she turned into a neurological murder bot. So while she is with the others shes often scared opening up emotionally, and to fix this Uzi tries to force her for some cuddle times. don't get me wrong sometimes both N and Uzi have to literally WRESTLE V til she no longer has energy to fight back just to drag her in the cuddle pile. she usually doesn't talk much and even more rarely breaks down into crying but she's secretly grateful of having Uzi to sometimes force her into things she should do more often in order to heal, and one of those is learning to trust again.

V and Uzi have sparring sessions every now and then- tho sometimes V fights dirty- if you catch my drift lmao- and Uzi is weak for that shit, sadly 😔 Uzi finds herself contemplating her life choices when V is constantly giving her new kinks to consider smhhhh. it doesnt help that V doesnt treat Uzi as weak or breakable, she goes all out and Uzi is thankful to her about it. tho N would not touch this particular catfight between two wild ladies with a 100ft pole- [which would probably be the distance he's standing and watching from...just in case...]

funny enough most of their arguments end with makeout sessions. N cant tell if this is their way of flirting from the start or their way of making up after a fight....

V is secretly protective of Uzi, not interfering when Uzi is dealing with someone but standing a few steps behind her, brandishing her claws just in case, to send an obvious message.

V is absolutely rough when trying to be intimate. Uzi needs lots of energy to heal from bite marks but they always make sure the other is comfortable about it. but when Uzi is soft and gentle with her and focuses on being reassuring and loving towards her, V's a flustered incoherent mess-

despite being the more avoidant one, V is usually the one who initiates any intimacy- [mostly because Uzi is too short or busy or embarrassed to do so 🙄] and when she gets needy, Uzi feels internally giddy as though a cat has chosen her or something-

Uzi likes to ask V sometimes of any HAPPY memories she had back at the mansion.

OKAY- damn that was LOOOOOONG- hope these are good enough- i had a lot of fun writing them :D

once again, left out any nsfw hcs 😇 enjoy the dumpster fire lesbiams-

i also tried my best to leave out the N x Uzi x V headcanons so it would seem more specifically for Vuzi :"3

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Turn - A Pedrotober Drabble

Day 11 of Pedrotober: Any Max Pedrotober hosted by @norththelemon and @alyssamariag. View the full prompt list HERE and view my entire Pedrotober drabble catalog HERE.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: E because I apparently can't write anything non-explicit with this man. Unprotected p in v, brief mention of oral (f receiving), fingering.

Word Count: 1810

a/n: This is a No Outbreak AU because we like to live happily with Joel Miller as if nothing bad ever happened ever. a/n: I legitimately blacked out with this one. Completely. Originally I was going to write a cute little fic about Mr. Ben and the next thing I know this was on the page. Yes, a Max is involved here. You'll see. I offer this again to the wives of Joel Miller. I hope it holds you over until the wolf thing.

"I do not like horror movies, Joel."

He's been insistent all day. Horror movies, he has so proclaimed, are a Miller family tradition on Halloween, but you'll have nothing of it. They freak you out, with their gore and their jump scares and their monsters. Half the time the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park were enough for you to lose sleep, and now he wanted you to watch something with vampires?

"It's not that bad. It's barely horror at all, actually," he assures you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. You have to admit that his tactics are starting to wear you down, from the way he'd crawled under the covers the second you'd woken up to the way he was pressed against your back now.

Still, you shook your head. "It's not happening."

"Come on," Sarah moans from her place at the kitchen table. "He's not kidding. It's literally not even scary."

"Scary is a relative term," you insist, trying your best to ignore the way Joel's hands are teasing the skin beneath the t-shirt you're wearing. "I just never understood the hype. Why would I want to watch people get eaten alive?"

Sarah looks over at you both with exasperated eyes. "They're not being eaten alive, they're being turned." Apparently, she's the foremost authority on vampire terminology now.

"She's right," Joel mutters against the back of your head, pressing a kiss to your hair before stepping away to lean against the table, joining his daughter in a united front to convince you.

"It has the actor you like in it," Sarah emphasizes. This causes you to turn to look at her with narrowed eyes. She's smiling widely, ignoring her dad when he asks her what actor she's talking about, his own gaze flickering back and forth between the two of you as he tries to work out the secret you two seemingly share.

You sigh. "It's not scary at all?"

Sarah shakes her head. "Nope. I mean, there's some blood. Okay, a lot of blood. But it isn't scary, I promise."

You continue to contemplate for a moment, weighing your options. You know this is important to them, to Sarah specifically, and you want to be part of the traditions they're sharing with you. And it is just one movie. "Fine," you agree, and you know you've made the right decision when Sarah jumps up to hug you tightly.

Joel, however, remains where he is at the table, still trying to work something out in his head as Sarah rushes to the living room to start up the DVD player. You follow a moment later with your food, pressing a kiss to Joel's cheek as you pass to follow his daughter.

"Wait," he calls after you, "what actor?"

~

You have to admit, they were right. The movie isn't all that bad. Sure, it leaves you questioning why Joel allowed his daughter to watch this, but you also can't complain about the way his arm is wrapped around your shoulders, securing you to his side any time the gore becomes a bit too much. Plus, seeing your favorite actor play a cocky businessman named Max sort of makes it all worth it. He's younger here than you're used to seeing him, and clean-shaven. Still undeniably handsome, but it does make you grateful for the scruff of Joel's jaw when you hide your face against it.

You're somewhere in the middle of the film when you catch Sarah continuously checking her phone. "You gonna put that away?" Joel huffs from beside you because of course he's noticed too.

"My friends are having a sleepover and asked if I wanted to come," she explains, still frantically typing away on the screen. Your eyes fall back to Max, letting the scene between Joel and Sarah play out while you're distracted. Truthfully, you're unsure why you didn't watch this sooner.

"Hey," Joel nuzzles the side of your head, his hand running down to your waist and pulling you from the trance you've fallen into. "You still with me?"

The movie is nearing its climax, and you know already that you're about to watch yet another death scene from the man on screen. "Yeah," you whisper unconvincingly.

He shifts slightly, "I don't believe you." His breath is hot against you ear, and you whimper slightly when his lips trace down to your neck.

"Sarah," you whisper harshly, a warning reminder that his daughter is sitting right next to both of you on the couch.

Joel grins against you, one hand pulling the hair back from your shoulder to give him better access. "Sarah's not here. She left fifteen minutes ago."

You're pulled from your daze and your eyes dart to the last place you saw her on the other side of Joel. Sure enough, the seat was empty. "Where did she go?" you ask, your body reacting a lot faster than your brain as your boyfriend's hand trails along your body. There are screams on the TV, but you don't know from who because your eyes have fallen shut at the sensation of his tongue as he licks a stripe across your skin.

"Friend's house," he informs you. "Gone for the rest of the night."

Oh. Oh.

"Joel." You aren't sure if his name is more of a plea or a question, but you aren't about to stop him as his hand again teases the skin of your stomach, except this time it's reaching lower. "What are you doing?"

"Turning you," he jokes gruffly before latching onto your neck. You wince as he marks you, but you do nothing to push him away. Instead, your hands grip into his curls, searching for something, anything to ground you as he sets you ablaze.

"Gonna tell me about that actor you're so enchanted by?" he grits out, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your leggings. "Because I'd be willing to bet that I can do a lot better."

You turn so you can catch his lips, teeth clashing as he swallows the proper moan he pulls from your lungs. Your hands are everywhere, and so are his as he encourages you to throw one leg over his lap, holding tight to your thighs as he stands with you in his arms. The movie continues to play as he carries you from the room, leaving Max behind to meet his fate.

"He's got you all transfixed," he drawls out as he tosses you onto the bed, immediately covering you with his body a moment later, lips hovering above yours. "Am I not enough? Joel grinds his hips into yours, his length hard against your center, and you can already feel how slick you are. How much you need whatever he's willing to give you.

How much you need him.

"Yeah? You need me, baby?" Joel questions, reading your mind as his hands make quick work of your shirt so he can latch onto your breast, the other pinched between his fingers in a way that has you arching off the bed. "Gonna come for me?"

God, you want to. You want all of him. Inside you, around you, completely smothering you, and you rake at his back, surely leaving marks on the skin beneath the shirt that still covers him. He lets you pull it off before he does the same with your leggings and underwear, revealing a mess that's solely for him.

He needs no guidance as his fingers circle your clit, back and forth until your whole world is spinning. You think you're begging him, to give you more, but you're mesmerized in an entirely different way now. It causes the world around you to grow hazy.

"Stay with me," he whispers, and you fight against the fog as he slides one finger, then two, then three into you easily. "That's it," he talks you through it, but you're long lost to the sensation. Completely absorbed in the way he drags his fingers along your walls just so. You thrust against him as pleasure sparks behind your eyelids, and then you're gushing against his hand.

It takes a moment for you to regain some sort of consciousness, but when you do, Joel is already sliding his cock along your slit, patiently waiting for you to come back to earth. "Still thinking about him?" he asks you, lips again finding that spot behind your ear, sucking your skin. You can only shake your head, words far from the forefront of your mind. His response is timed perfectly with the push of his length into your welcoming heat, "good."

He rocks against you, setting a brutal pace that almost matches the intensity of the film you'd watched earlier. The frantic need. Here, in his bed, it's not a need for blood, but for something else entirely. It's intoxicating, the way he grinds you into the mattress, driving you higher and higher and higher.

"Taking me so well." And you are, you know you are because he's filling you in a way that only he can. Completely. Thoroughly. Unconditionally. He shifts, hands pressing your legs further apart as you writhe beneath him, pinning you down as he hits something inside you that has you gripping the sheets at your side.

You whine out his name, the high-pitched sound joining the symphony of noises filling the bedroom. The creak of the bedframe beneath you and the slap of his skin against yours as he somehow moves faster. The heavy sound of your breathing, rough as it mingles with the grunt he makes when you shift your hips higher. The way you gasp breathlessly when he takes your hand and guides it to your center.

"Fuck," he mutters. "Come on, come on, come on." It's a chant as he changes the angle again to something devastating. You know he's close, you can tell from the way he's panting, but you know he won't fall without you. Thankfully, you're not far behind.

The room is silent then. That or you've blacked out entirely as pleasure consumes every fiber of your being. You're faintly aware of him spilling into you, heat radiating through your body before he collapses against you, his weight settling you into the bed as his lips once again find a home along your collarbone. You're tugging on his curls when you finally regain some resemblance of your consciousness.

"So," he whispers against your skin, "are you pro horror movie now?"

It's an insane thought, but you love him for the way that that's where his mind is at when his cock is softening inside you. "It wasn't really a horror movie anyway," you return, wrapping a leg around his waist to keep him where he is, "but perhaps I could be convinced if my favorite actor..."

Joel silences the thought with his lips. A convincing argument indeed.

[mecachrome]

Hi k! If you feel like it, do you have any favourite Oscar facial quirks?

omgggg anon this is only my favorite topic ever!!! (kidding but also not really 🧡)

i'm a lot like oscar tbh in that i have something of a deadpan stare and usually speak in a monotone but when i DO properly react to something i am veryyy uncontrollably expressive lolol, which i feel like is the same with him and the one million things constantly going on in his face!!! 😭 he definitely has a lot of little quirks / "tics" i guess for lack of better word that i adore so much...

^ first off one of the best ones is the way he always moves his mouth to the side (see also), but i'd say my favorite overall is just his full nose + face scrunch ! as shown in MMMM DEBATABLE and the blind rankings one that i drew earlier t__t and also the 1st gif of this gifset!!! i'm guilty of constantly bunnycoding ojp and that expression is trewwlyyy on top... as well as another quirk that's quite bunnycoded which is whenever he sort of awkwardly grimaces and shows off his teeth idk if you know what i'm talking about 😭

of course another fav has to be his eyebrow raising and just overall eyebrow Mobility, it's so fun because they're very straight and slope downward when his face is resting but they ARCH perfectly when he raises them and he can also do the like 🤨 seth everman look which is iconic 2 me. tbh i like how much he enjoys Squinting at things in general LOL

i've also spoken about how the buzzfeed uk video has such a wealth of oscar facial expressions and imo part of this is the informal and relaxed setting on top of the fact that he was being forced to overthink and react to an inherently silly concept so we get the ultimate combo of CASUALLY EXPRESSIVE OSCAR!!! prema challenges have a similar vibe but imo this is still different because it's fairly removed from a motorsport setting so he's kind of just vibing... another v endearing quirk from this video is his eye twitching / blinking that you can see in a LOT of oscar content, i feel like it's a once you notice you never stop noticing it thing because he does it all the time and i find it really cute because it kind of makes him squinch his cheek too... miss cutieful....... SIMILARLY but also from the buzzfeed video this is one of my favorite examples of how much he (involuntarily imo) WIDENS his eyes (2) when talking or listening to something, here's another moment of him doing it back in f4 so you can see it's a long-ingrained habit.

sorry i'm literally giving you the most random ass deep cuts alkdfshaldsfh but i also remember watching ted's race notebook from miami and noticing oscar talking to a few mclaren employees during the team photo and something i find so endearing about him is when people call his name / try to get his attention and he does the >whips head around and widens his eyes with a polite little smile< thing like AGHHH... qt TT___TT ok i'm going off-topic now but the surprised smile he gave lando during the miami post-race debrief will haunt my memories forever because it was so Open !!!

anyway re: the grimacing he also kind of has a neck tic he does where he stretches his neck out... and i've noticed that he's also just kind of sensitive/particular with his neck in general and is always adjusting his collar where it sits on his skin, which again is off-topic but i find really cute because i can relate (sensitive to textures) hsdafhk.

let me stop talking but last but not least i'm obsessedddd with the way he pouts in the post-quali vid from canada this yr <3 and also his tendency to lick/bite his lips which always does great legwork in terms of the heart eyes piastri narrative and his apparent thirst for lando HKLFDSHLH which while i endorse wholeheartedly is definitely mostly just an unconscious habit of his... but i think rpf is fun so who cares!!! LOL i hope this makes sense idk if i described anything properly 😭🧡

[gamergoddess003]

Stoner Daryl

Summary: Y/n is new to Alexandria and meets Daryl. She thinks Daryl is attractive as soon as she sees him. Daryl invites her over to smoke and he finds himself thinking she is cute.

Warnings: Use of marijuana and tobacco, cussing, p in v, oral female receiving, grinding, a little fluff.

Note: Daryl is mid 40s and the reader is mid 20s. Pre-saviors.

Another note: If you are reading for the cute Daryl stoner part, I’ll mark where you can skip the smut part of the story with a red line. The ending has more stoner and fluff.

____________________

Being new to Alexandria, y/n didn’t really know anyone. She stuck around Rosita for the first few days because Rosita was the one who found her and brought her here.

Sitting on the front porch of Rosita and Abraham’s house, y/n and Rosita talked about random things that came to mind. Y/n looked over towards the gates and saw a man ride in on a motorcycle.

“Who’s that?” Y/n asked.

“That’s Daryl. He’s been out on a run for a week. He likes to go out by himself. He actually lives across the street.”

Daryl rode his motorcycle into his driveway and got off. He looks over and sees Rosita waving at him and he waves back then went inside.

Rosita looks over at y/n and sees that her face is starting to blush a little bit. She asked if she was alright and y/n slowly looked up at Rosita and said,

“Uhh.. I.. I haven’t seen a man so.. I donno.”

Rosita smiled and looked at y/n with the face of that she knows what y/n was trying to say. Hearing Daryl come out of his house, Rosita called him over. Y/n looked at Rosita with wide eyes, then looked at Daryl walk up. He was even more attractive up close.

As Rosita introduced y/n to Daryl, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. He held out the pack to y/n and she took a cigarette and lit one too.

“That shit stinks. I’m going inside.” Rosita complained and then left.

It was awkward silence for a moment and then Daryl sat on the front step on the porch. He didn’t have that much to say but he did ask questions to get to know her a little bit.

They talked for about 15 minutes and within that time, y/n got more comfortable talking to him and told him that she used to smoke weed before the fall and that she hasn’t been able to smoke since then.

Daryl looked at her for a moment and asked her if she wanted to smoke. She accepted the offer and they both walked to Daryl’s house. Apparently Daryl lives in the basement.

Y/n sat on the couch and Daryl walked over to his dresser and pulled out a tray, a jar of weed, and some papers that he uses to roll joints and cigarettes when he couldn’t find any. He sat next to her on the couch and went on to start breaking down some nugs of weed. Y/n picked up a bright green nug. She smelled it and let out a sigh with a smile.

“Mmmmm.. I haven’t smelled weed in so long. My mouth is watering.” She chuckled.

Daryl looked at her and smiled and huffed a laugh through his nose. He decided to let her get the first hit and handed her a joint and a lighter.

Since it at been so long that she smoked weed, it didn’t take her much to get high. She was so high that she really came out of her shell and wouldn’t stop talking.

Daryl sat and listened and started to realize that he found her cute. He didn’t know what to do at first because it’s been a while since he felt that way, so he left to go upstairs to get some water.

When he sat back down, he sat closer to her, making his leg press against hers. She looked away, feeling all types of butterflies in her stomach and took a deep breath.

He leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the couch. Y/n didn’t notice that he did that and when she leaned back, she felt his bicep touching the back of her neck. Looking over at Daryl, her eyes met with his and they sat in silence. His eyes lowered down to her lips and back up at her eyes.

Y/n licked her lips which made him look at her lips again. He slowly leaned in and placed a light kiss on her lips then slowly broke the kiss, backing away only inches from her face. She looked in his eyes and smiled. Daryl wrapped his arm around her pulling her closer and kissed her again, but this time it lasted longer.

Drowning in their kiss, y/n reached her hand up and placed it on his jawline.

___

With his other hand, he placed it on her thigh and it made shivers go down her spine. She wanted him.

She stuck her tongue out a little, making it touch his lips. He smiled into the kiss and proceeded stick his tongue all the way in her mouth and moved it around her’s. While he passionately made out with her, his hand moved to the inside of her thigh and squeezed it (not too hard), making her arch her back.

Daryl sat back and y/n climbed on top of him. Whilst continuing their kiss, she slowly moved her hips around, grinding on him. He slid his hands under her shirt, feeling the soft skin of her back on his rough hands. He pulled the shirt up and over her head then went on to unhook her bra, revealing her breasts.

Daryl let out a deep breath and grabbed her ass, picking her up. He walked over and laid her on his bed, then started to kiss her again. He migrated his kiss down her jaw, neck, then onto her chest. With one hand, he grabbed one breast and kissed the other one.

The feel of his beard and lips and the warmth of his breath touching her bare chest sent tingles with down her spine and she arched her back. Daryl stuck out his tongue and traced it down her stomach and kissed her lower belly, right above her pants. He stood up some and started to unbutton her jeans.

Slipping off her jeans and panties, he proceeded to take off his vest and unbuttoned his shirt and tossed them on the bed. He knelt down on the floor putting his face between her legs.

Y/n sat up on her elbows and looked at him being so close to her private area. Seeing her face, he smirked and kissed the inside of her thigh, making his way closer to her core. His breath was warm as he hovered his mouth close, and he looked up at her for approval. Not stopping him, he pecked a kiss on her clit and the feeling made her lay back. He chuckled a warm-breathed laugh on her and sunk his tongue between her folds.

She quickly took a deep breath and let out a soft, long moan.

“Mmmm it’s been so long.” Y/n moaned.

He wrapped his arms around her thighs because she kept squirming. How could she not squirm when Daryl has his tongue deep inside her pussy, making her heart race from the adrenaline.

When Daryl was done eating her cunt, making it sloppy wet, he stood up, unbuckled his belt, and pulled his pants down to his ankles. He leaned over y/n and looked her right in the eyes, and started to trace circles with his cock all in her wetness.

Y/n gasped as he slipped the head of his dick inside her and let out a moan as he pushed the rest of his long, girthy cock deep inside her.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Daryl said as he slid inside.

After a moment of being still, he was looking at the expression on her face and it pleased him to know she was in bliss because of him. He moved in and out of her slowly so she could get used to his size.

Speeding up the pace, he ended up having to cover y/n’s mouth to muffle her loud moans of pleasure.

“Ohhh Daryl, I’m about to cum!” She moaned into his hand.

Daryl slammed into her harder and she filled up with her gooey orgasm, soaking Daryl’s cock. The feel of her warm wetness made Daryl reach his climax. He pulled out and ejaculated in the basket of dirty clothes next to the bed.

Y/n laid on the bed for a moment and then asked for something to clean herself with. Daryl pulled up his pants and walked upstairs, shirtless, to get a towel.

Carol was standing in the kitchen and saw Daryl come from the direction of his room and into the bathroom, exiting with a towel in his hand. He saw her in his peripheral and looked at her. He stood there like he was a deer caught in the headlights. Carol raised an eyebrow and Daryl blinked then went back downstairs.

“That was awkward.” He thought to himself as he walked down the stairs.

Daryl handed y/n the towel.

___

As she cleaned herself up and got dressed, he sat on the couch, still shirtless, and rolled another joint. When he looked up, he noticed that y/n was standing there and was wearing only her panties and the shirt he wore that day, which was thrown on the bed next to her. (The vest felt too big and was uncomfortable because of the leather.)

He smiled at her. He thought she was cute with her slightly messy hair and wearing his shirt.

He lit the joint and walked over to the bed and sat against his pillow and the headboard. Y/n crawled up in bed next to him and laid down. Daryl passed her the joint and moved to position himself on the bed next to her, pulling the blanket over the both of them.

Exhausted from the sexual activity between her and Daryl, and smoking another joint, y/n got tired. She fell asleep cuddled next to Daryl. Daryl couldn’t sleep though. He laid there with his arm around her and she had her head and hand on his chest, and he reminisced in his thoughts.

(The next day)

Y/n was standing in the kitchen of the house she stayed in with Rosita, making something for lunch. Rosita walks in and looks at y/n.

“Where were you last night? I never saw you come back in.” Rosita asks.

“I was at Daryl’s. We smoked and I... I got..tired.. and fell asleep..”

“Are you sure that all that happened? You paused for a second.”

“Wellll…….” Y/n says as she looks away then back at Rosita.

“I’ve just never known Daryl to be an intimate kind of person. He’s usually quiet and keeps to himself.” Rosita exclaims.

Y/n huffed a laugh out of her nose with a smirk and says,

“Quiet guys fuck the hardest.”