#Cat Peeing While Standing

[superdupersunny420]

Timeskip!Katsuki Bakugou x GN!Reader

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“Katsuki.”

Bakugou lies perfectly still, arms keeping you trapped against his chest, soft breathing the only sound that could be heard in the room.

You quietly sigh, trying to wiggle yourself free but your effort is in vain.

“Kats, wake up.”

You whine, gently slapping his cheek until he stirs, arms tightening around you.

Voice gruff, he finally responds, sounding still half asleep.

“What is it?”

“I have to pee.”

“And I have to sleep, goodnight.”

“Katsuki…”

He sighs, undoing his hold on you.

“Make it quick.”

“No… you have to come with.”

At this statement, Katsuki finally opens his eyes, his eyebrows squint as his vision adjusts to the darkness of your shared room.

“Why the fuck do I have to watch you pee?”

You sigh, once again, and look away from his confused and bewildered face while sitting up on your bed.

“What if someone trys to kidnap me while I’m on the toilet? That’s when I’m most vulnerable, I’m an easy target!”

You expand your arms to emphasise your point, before slowly turning to your tired, definitely fed up with your bullshit, boyfriend.

He lets out a sigh.

“Fucking scaredy-cat, told you we shouldn’t have watched that shitty horror movie.”

He says, all the while standing up, pulling you off the bed in the process.

And that’s how you ended up on the toilet, Katsuki sitting on the edge of the bathtub, at 2am.

[darkmatilda]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when you were accommodated in such a shabby hotel, the last thing you needed was a power outage. and upon learning about one of your colleagues' fear of the dark, you can't bring yourself to not help him

𝐜𝐨��𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, spencer is afraid of the dark and the reader comforts him, they comfort each other tbh, elle&morgan my fav duo, glasses reid obvi.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4.7k

𝐚/𝐧: these are my official apologies for all the recent stories 🫶🏼 i wanted it to be so much shorter but i just love writing conversations between characters so that's how it turned out. @mggslover i'm so sorry for not adding spencer falling off the bed but i didn't want to ruin that subtle ending :(( maybe next time

"Please, I’m begging you, I’m really begging you—begging in the name of a god I don’t even believe in. Tell me we’ve got the wrong address," Morgan said, squeezing his eyes shut the moment you all crossed the threshold of the motel where you'd been assigned to stay while working on the case in another state.

You noticed Elle’s expression falter as well. From the outside, the place hadn’t looked that bad. Well, perhaps it only seemed that way because the street it was on was so dark you couldn’t make out much of anything. Midnight must have been approaching; the first day of the investigation was officially over.

“We didn’t get it wrong,” Reid declared, stepping inside as the last of you, quickly scanning the interior. “I memorized it perfectly. Besides, there aren’t any other accommodations in the area, so this has to be it.”

“Do you remember that one case,” Elle started, “where the unsub killed women in hotel rooms and decorated the interiors with their intestines?”

You glanced at her, curious—or as curious as you could be under the circumstances. You’d only joined the team fairly recently; this was your third or fourth case at most, and none of them had been quite that… gruesome. Of course, you were well aware cases like that happened. It was only a matter of time before one came your way. Unfortunately.

“This motel totally looks like the kind of place where something like that happens on a daily basis,” Elle continued. “My advice? Don’t look under the beds tonight. Or in the closets, if there even are any.”

“I just hope there’s hot water,” Derek sighed, his voice carrying a tone of resignation. “We once ended up in a place that didn’t have any. I almost handed in my resignation.”

“You deal with gruesome murders every day, but no hot water is too much for you, Princess?” you raised an eyebrow, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye as you made your way toward the reception desk to pick up your room keys. The motel’s walls were yellow—not the cheerful sunflower or sunny kind of yellow, but more like dried-up cat pee yellow.

“He’s got a point, though,” Elle chimed in, taking the key from an elderly woman at the reception desk. “Think about it. You come back after a long, grueling day, from dawn to midnight, just like today. You’re exhausted, barely standing, and you can’t even take a hot shower.”

Morgan pointed at her and nodded in agreement. You shrugged.

“Cold isn’t that bad,” you muttered. Honestly, you hadn’t expected anything luxurious from the place you’d been sent to. It was just a few days, after all.

“Oh, are you one of those people practicing that millionaire morning routine?” Derek teased. “You know—waking up at three, cold shower, steak for breakfast, daily planning, self-help book…”

I just grew up poor, you thought to yourself, but aloud you only let out a short laugh.

“I’d kill to have time to read a book before work. Any book. Not to be yanked out of bed by Hotch at five, like today, and scrambling to get out the door.”

Elle and Morgan exchanged a very brief look, almost secretive. You narrowed your eyes, suspicion suddenly welling up inside you. Before you could ask about it, someone else spoke up.

“He called me at half past six,” Reid said, tilting his head in mild confusion.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the others silencing him with a look.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you stopped in your tracks, demanding an explanation. “He called me half an hour earlier than the rest of you?”

“You live farther away.”

“We’re practically neighbors, Elle Greenaway.”

“I’m about to drop,” Derek suddenly interjected with theatrical exhaustion. A change of subject. A not-so-subtle change of subject. “If I don’t lie down soon, I’ll fall asleep standing up. See you all tomorrow, folks.”

“You’re absolutely right—sleep well.”

With that, he and Elle headed up the stairs to the third floor, where they’d been assigned rooms. You and, as it turned out, Reid were staying on the second floor.

You turned to him slowly, arms crossed over your chest.

You didn’t even need to say anything—your stern gaze alone made it clear you were waiting for an explanation. Reid looked like he was about to throw his hands up in a defensive gesture, clearly regretting that he’d brought up the topic at all.

“Okay,” he sighed nervously. “What I’m about to say is not meant to offend you in any way, not even the slightest…”

“Offend?” you repeated, furrowing your brow. “Jesus Christ, Reid, don’t look at me like that—I’m not about to punch you in the face…”

“It’s just…” he began, a little calmer now. “All of us, including Hotch, I assume, are aware of the fact that, occasionally—just sometimes—you have a slight tendency to…run a bit late to work.”

He looked at you, and a telling silence fell between you.

"Yesterday, you were fourteen and a half minutes late."

"Fifteen minutes doesn't count as being late. And have you heard of a grace period? It's allowed to arrive within that time frame, without any consequences."

"Fine. What about two days ago, twenty-one minutes and seventeen..."

"Metro malfunction. I had no control over that."

"And six days ago, on Tuesday? Twenty-four minutes and..."

"I don’t remember such a situation, because, Mr. Big Brain, not all of us have such a memory. But I assume there was a reason..."

"Alright, fine," Reid interrupted you calmly. "I’m not saying there wasn’t a reason. But still... it happens quite often, and that's a fact. So it’s no surprise that Hotch, when the situation especially calls for it, prefers to call you a little earlier than the rest. Just out of caution."

You sighed, no longer able to argue about it. Maybe he was right; you did sometimes lose track of time in the mornings or fail to wake up to the sound of your alarm, closing your eyes for an extra five minutes... which resulted in small delays. You had never been directly reprimanded for it, so you were unaware that it had become such a big issue. Slightly embarrassed, you pressed your lips together.

"As usual, I guess you're right. And by the way, I’m heading to my room. I had thirty minutes less sleep than all of you, I’m exhausted," you said in a lighter, joking tone. A brief smile crossed Reid’s face. "Good night, wise guy.”

"Good night. And don’t look under the bed."

"Believe me, I wasn’t planning on it!"

With those words, you both disappeared into rooms directly opposite each other. The sounds of doors closing synchronized. You started your usual evening routine, placing your suitcase in the corner of the room. It was really small, narrow, and rectangular. The walls had that same awful color, the light was too bright, causing a headache. So you decided to just turn on the night lamp on the shabby nightstand next to the single bed.

It turned out that the only bathroom was in the hallway. You almost cried; you didn't want to take all your things with you and then come back with them. You remembered that you'd taken a proper shower that morning, so maybe a repeat wasn’t absolutely necessary. You were too sleepy for it, so you just set the alarm for fifteen minutes earlier to do it in the morning. After changing into comfortable clothes, you immediately lay down on the bed. Following Elle’s advice, and then Reid’s too, you didn’t check what might be hiding under it.

You weren’t hiding it, you were a terrible sleeper. Falling asleep in new places usually wasn’t a problem for you, even if it was a place that looked like a dive where someone could stab you in your sleep. But that night, something was bothering you. After giving it some thought, you realized it was Reid’s words.

Of course, it wasn’t that you held it against him. He was just stating facts; he had no intention of offending you, as he assured. And you didn’t even feel offended. More like unpleasantly confronted with a certain fact. You had only been part of the BAU for a short time. Well, just a week ago Derek stopped calling you the new girl. Although on the outside, you came across as very confident, on the inside, you were preoccupied with the team’s opinion of you and what they might think about you. Mainly because they were all older and more experienced.

You were especially worried about the fact that your tardiness and chaos had drawn the boss’s attention. Being on good terms with your superior was incredibly important, in case something ever happened, in case you made a more serious mistake…those small things could influence how the rest of your career would unfold, and the decisions made about you.

But above all, you wanted everyone to like you. Simply like you. So you wouldn’t walk around every day with your heart in your throat, praying for the day to end, constantly overwhelmed by a sense of misfit and loneliness.

You turned to your side, not sure how long you had been lying there, thinking. Suddenly, you realized you had to pee.

With great reluctance and sleepiness, you reached for the bedside lamp to turn it on and go to the bathroom. However, when you tugged at the cord, it... didn’t turn on. The room remained shrouded in darkness. You tried once more, then blindly made your way to the light switch in the room. You pressed it, and nothing.

What was going on, a power outage?

You shook your head in confusion. Whatever was going on, it didn’t change the fact that you had to go to the bathroom. You remembered the flashlight in your jacket pocket, and in the darkness, it took you a while to find it. When you finally had it in your hand, you felt ready to complete the mission. To pee, that is.

The moment you stepped out into the hallway, a light source flared up right before your eyes. You let out a muffled exclamation, partly from surprise, partly from being almost blinded.

“Damn, sorry…” Reid hissed, equally confused, turning his flashlight downward, away from your face.

You rubbed your eyelids, turning off your flashlight. Two light sources were unnecessary.

“Is there no power for you too?” you asked.

Reid nodded. It was only then that you really looked at him—he was wearing very loose pajama pants and...

“Cute,” you clicked your tongue, pointing at his white sweater with a bear wearing glasses. He had them too, worn very low on his nose. He must have put them on absentmindedly, in the dark, right after getting out of bed.

“I got it from Penelope for my birthday,” he said in a tone as if he were giving a statement. His hand briefly touched the fabric, right at the center of the brown bear’s face. “It’s really comfortable and soft. Perfect for sleeping...Anyway, I was heading to the reception to find out what the issue is and whether anything can be done about it. You too?”

"No, I just really need to pee. Do you really want to go there at this hour?" you asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "I mean, outages happen, and they'll have to fix it, but it's the middle of the night. We don't really need the lights right now, and if you want to go to the bathroom, you have a flashlight, as I can see."

You kept your gaze on him, realizing that since he noticed the lack of light, he must have been either heading somewhere himself or keeping the light on. Or maybe he had been sleeping with the light on. He did seem a bit tense. One of his hands was still resting on the half-open door, nervously gripping it. The other was pressed tightly to his body, his chest rising in an odd rhythm. Not a quickened pace, like with a panic attack, but more unnatural, like he was trying to control it.

"Are you afraid of the dark?" the question slipped out of you directly. After a moment, you realized it might have been a little too blunt. You had asked it carelessly, suspecting there might be another reason behind his behavior. For some reason, fear of the dark didn’t seem to fit his rational character.

Reid quickly shook his head, firmly denying it.

"No. No, of course not. I was just... reading when the light went out."

Oh, you didn’t even need to be a profiler to see right away that he was lying. You crossed your arms, a little amused by how stubbornly he was denying it.

"You were reading? At this hour? When we’re back to the investigation first thing tomorrow morning?"

He shrugged, shaking his head again.

"I couldn’t sleep."

You sighed. In the end, neither his fear nor his shame were your concern, so you didn’t see the point in interrogating him any further. You signaled that you were dropping the subject, and some expression passed across his face. Gratitude. Gratitude for not pushing the issue or mocking him. You felt a bit offended that he had even thought you might do that.

“If you still plan on going to the reception, wait for me, I’ll go with you. I just need to quickly stop by the bathroom.”

Reid opened his mouth, clearly surprised by your suggestion.

“Well, what?” you replied with a shrug. “I can’t let something eat you on the way. A demonic hand emerging from the darkness…”

“Very funny,” he commented, rolling his eyes. However, the corner of his mouth twitched, and his breathing seemed calmer.

“…The ghost of Richard Ramirez haunting the walls of this hotel. Or some other bloodthirsty maniac.“

"Didn't you really have to pee badly?"

"The team wouldn’t recover from losing you, Reid!" You threw that line over your shoulder as you walked toward the bathroom.

Of course, there was no light there either, so you had to use your flashlight. He was waiting for you, and together, in silence, you headed down the stairs toward the reception. Given how small the motel was, it wasn’t open 24/7. You had to wait a while before someone came to assist you.

“That happens sometimes,” the employee shrugged. “We’re not sure where the problem is exactly, but someone’s supposed to come check it out tomorrow…”

“Can’t anything be done about it now?” Reid asked, a trace of frustration in his voice that he was trying to mask—especially when he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Maybe it’s just a simple overload? Where are the fuse boxes…?”

“Reid,” you said gently, placing a hand on his elbow to draw his full attention. He turned his head toward you, surprised by the tone of your voice. You gave the employee a discreet signal that you didn’t have any further questions and he could leave.

“You’re not fixing the electricity in some rundown motel. That would just be… ridiculous.”

“I’m not talking about fixing it,” he clarified quickly, though it was clear he hadn’t let go of the idea. “But in most cases, it’s just a simple short circuit. I could just take a look—”

“—Or you could just sleep in my room.”

The words left your mouth, surprising not only him but also yourself. Yet, it wasn’t as though you regretted them or wanted to take back the offer. On the contrary, the moment you said it out loud, it felt even more fitting. When you were a little kid—like most children, probably—you’d also been afraid of the dark, and running to someone else’s room always helped. Curling up beside someone, just knowing someone was there, made all the difference.

You watched his reaction, the way he shook his head slightly from side to side, a small frown creasing his forehead.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all. Come on.” You grabbed him by the wrist—the hand not holding the flashlight—and pulled him along. He moved hesitantly, but he seemed too caught off guard to plant his feet and stay put.

He stopped only when you reached the door to your room, pulling his hand free from your grasp.

"How do you even imagine this working? There's... there's only one bed in there."

"If that bothers you, grab the mattress and some bedding from your room. You’ll hardly notice the difference—those beds are unbearably uncomfortable anyway."

He lowered the flashlight slightly, letting the surrounding darkness of the hallway creep over his face. It was barely visible now, but the hesitation etched on it was unmistakable. Standing across from him, you held his gaze without saying a word, silently reinforcing the fact that you weren’t joking.

The thought of him struggling to fall asleep for the rest of the night and then suffering through another day made you feel genuinely sorry for him. Besides, even though you hadn’t known each other long, you already considered him a sort of friend. If there was anything you could do to help, you wanted to do it.

"It's no big deal, Spencer," you reassured him one last time, hoping the words would finally sink in. "Really. And if you want... we don't ever have to talk about this again. Tomorrow, or ever."

His chest rose as he drew in a deep breath.

"Th-thank you," he said at last, cautiously, as though he'd packed so many thoughts into the single word that saying it out loud was an effort.

You smiled gently and understandingly. Before stepping into the room, you briefly placed a hand on his arm.

"Oh God, that sweater really is soft..."

He let out a short laugh, perhaps releasing a bit of the embarrassment he’d been holding back. You both disappeared into your respective rooms, and you lay down in bed, waiting for him to show up. Well, the moment dragged on a little too long.

You were almost certain he’d only agreed to your suggestion to get you off his back and had no intention of actually following through. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you debated whether to go to his room and drag him over or just let it go. They say you shouldn’t force help on others. Maybe there was some truth to that.

Shortly after that thought, your door creaked open slowly. You heard it but couldn’t see much—the room was too dark, and he wasn’t using his flashlight. Perhaps he assumed you were already asleep and didn’t want to risk waking you.

Either way, he moved around your bed to lay down a pillow and blanket on the floor, skipping the effort of hauling over an entire mattress. 

"Your back is going to hurt," you remarked softly, your voice adjusting to the rhythm of the night, blending with the surrounding darkness.

You lay on your side, facing the spot where he had set up his makeshift bed. All you could see was the outline of his figure, his hands clasped loosely over his stomach, head resting on the pillow. You even caught the slight shrug of his shoulders in response to your comment.

"Actually, sleeping on the floor can have health benefits. It helps maintain a neutral spine position," he replied.

“Seriously?” you scoffed. “Do you really have to come up with a counterargument for everything I say?”

“Such a curse of mine. If you don’t like it, well, you invited me here.”

“Annoying bastard. I guess it’s too late to kick you out?” you wondered aloud, of course, rhetorically. But you quickly added, worried that he might take it seriously, “Sleep well. You and your spine.”

An amused sigh escaped him.

 “You… and your spine too.”

Well, you guessed that's enough of the chit-chat. You felt a bit disappointed, but you had brought him here for a reason. To let him sleep, not to entertain you with conversation. To your surprise, you didn’t feel sleepy, even though you had struggled with it earlier. You had been thinking about... hard to even pinpoint what, there were a few things. The little worries typical of the night, suddenly growing to some huge proportions.

You were still lying in the same position, some time had passed. Your cheek was almost touching the edge of the bed, on the same side where Reid slept. Well, actually, he wasn’t sleeping. You could see a faint, barely noticeable gleam of his open eyes. They were cast downward, trying not to stare into the empty blackness above his head.

“Have you always been afraid of the dark?” you decided to ask, with no sarcasm.

“I’m not afraid,” he replied, though he could always pretend to be asleep. But the answer came out automatically.

“Alright, brave guy.” You didn’t even scoff, you just said it calmly and accepting. Maybe later he’ll tell you, when he stops being so embarrassed about it. “So, I guess you came here to get to know me better. And you know, I think you’ve got the chance. Could you... could you tell me something? Just honestly?”

"Me?" he asked, surprised, even sitting up slightly. "I mean... sure. But what?"

You suddenly sighed, regretting even bringing up the topic. God, that was so stupid...

"Just remember, honestly. Do you think the rest of the team likes me?"

Reid was silent, a strange feeling gathered in your stomach. Instead of answering negatively, he propped himself up on both elbows, and you saw a slight movement of his head. A nod.

"Are you asking this completely seriously?"

You shrugged, not sure if he noticed, so you confirmed out loud in a slightly hoarse voice. And then, to your absolute surprise, he just laughed.

"I don’t get it," he confessed after a short moment during which you stared in silence at his silhouette. "How... how could you think it could be any different? You’re always joking with Derek and Elle, and... we get along well too, I hope..."

"You’re right. But... but that’s not what I meant, I just... ugh, seriously, I can’t explain it. Fine, you know what, never mind."

You turned onto your back, as if that would completely sever the conversation. The one you’d stupidly started. You hoped he wouldn’t mention it to anyone. Another stupid thought, after all, he wasn’t like that.

Silence again, broken only by breaths. A new sound joined them, a slight rustle of the sheets. When Reid spoke again, his voice sounded somehow higher, and you were sure he was sitting on the floor as he said it.

"It might be a little surprising, but when I was a kid, I wasn't afraid of the dark," he began, completely changing the tone of his voice. He wasn't surprised like before; it was lower, gentler, despite the topic he was addressing. "I mean, I wasn't afraid of it more than any other kid my age. That... that serious fear, the real fear, started later. I don't want to say it was when I started working for the BAU because that wouldn't be entirely true. But it was around the time I started taking everything seriously. Seeing it with my own eyes, every day."

You didn't even realize when you had turned back onto your side, just to look at him, listening to his words.

"Do you have nightmares?" you asked.

"Sometimes. Actually..." he sighed, swallowing. "All of it, the fear and the nightmares, it's like they don't exist when I'm in a place I know. A place I trust. I can sleep just fine with the lights off in my apartment, the same in a jet. Everything starts in places like this. “

There was silence from your side, and you felt a bit… touched that he decided to tell you this. No beating around the bush, no lying, and, most importantly, no overwhelming embarrassment. It was a normal topic after all; everyone has their fears.

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you have nightmares?"

In the first few days after starting the job, you did. Then they stopped. That’s just how things go, you suppose.

"Not anymore," you admitted, letting out a small laugh. "But that doesn’t mean I sleep well. Now I just worry at night."

"About whether the team likes you?"

"Okay, I know it sounds childish, but it’s really been bothering me lately. They might… they might seem to like me, but deep down, they might not think that highly of me. I… I'm new, not that experienced, I’m always late, and I don’t think I’m bringing anything new to the table..."

"Of course, you’re bringing something," he interrupted you. You hadn’t noticed when, but you were both sitting up now. Your voices weren’t sleepy whispers anymore, you were having a real conversation. "Each of us brings something different, something characteristic of ourselves. That's how it works in a team. That’s why you’re here. Without you… okay, you might not know this, but since you’ve been here, these last four cases have gone much more smoothly."

"Do you really think so?" 

"Well, you asked me to be honest. Completely honest."

You've always had a bit of imposter syndrome, doubting your abilities, and approaching others' positive comments about you or your achievements with skepticism. 

Something in the way he spoke, his quick words, his engagement in them... made you believe him, somehow.

"Reid," you began, surprised to find that there was less weight in your chest, in your body. "I know, I just know, that you'll refuse, but still, I'll ask. Do you want to lie down with me?"

You didn't even know what exactly prompted the question. Caring about your back, you could answer. But was that really all it was?

For a moment, he was silent, thinking you were joking, but when it dawned on him that you weren't, he scoffed.

"Well, you were right, I'll refuse..."

"Sorry, but I doubt you'll fall asleep any other way. I was watching you, as creepy as that sounds. You were lying there with your eyes open, you were scared."

"I'm an adult man who's afraid of the dark. That's pathetic on its own, without being tucked to sleep by a coworker."

"I never mentioned anything about tucking you in."

He hesitated, embarrassed. 

"You took the least important part of my statement..."

"I took what I wanted. The rest is nonsense. Your age doesn't determine what you can or can't be afraid of. I'm a grown woman, and I'm afraid my colleagues don't like me. Which sounds more pathetic, huh? Fear of the dark or that?"

“I think it’s a point we could argue about for hours.”

“Which we don’t have. It’s late, we should go to sleep. Quick question, are you lying down with me, or are you fooling yourself into thinking you’ll fall asleep without it?”

A heavy, resigned sigh escaped him. Without adding anything else to his words, you turned onto your side, your back to him. You heard the rustling of the sheets, and for a moment, you froze, surprised. But no, he hadn’t joined you. 

You weren’t sure how you felt. Disappointed seemed like too strong a word. It wasn’t as though he had refused some incredibly important request of yours. It was just… perhaps the best explanation would be that, once you had convinced him to sleep in the same room for the sake of helping him, you wanted him to take something comforting from that night. You wanted it to be one of those good nights, like the ones he had in his apartment or in the jet, the ones he had mentioned. Not one of the others, filled with fear.

But then, the mattress beside you dipped, as someone else settled onto it.

You turned to the other side, and suddenly your faces were right across from each other. Reid swallowed, almost nervously. He seemed to be adjusting to the situation, to the sudden closeness, the small space you shared. You propped your hand under your head, observing him discreetly. It hit you that he always had a bit of an issue with contact with others. A doubt crossed your mind: had you made him uncomfortable?

Minutes passed, though, and his body seemed to sink more comfortably into the bed. His arms were no longer stiff, his hands resting freely, no longer clasped tightly across his chest. You could also hear his breath, and the more peaceful it became, the calmer you felt too.

And even though no words seemed necessary anymore, he decided to speak once again.

"Thank you."

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @kakamixo @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella

[shroompette]

pt2

Maine Coon Cat!König who isn't surprised, but is still ecstatic when Bunny!Reader wakes him up one day by whispering "I think I'm pregnant" in his fluffy ear during a lazy morning in bed. His eyes snap open immediately, fuzzy tail standing up in attention and back coiling with tension, as if trying to stop himself from pouncing on her immediately from sheer joy. "Say that again, bitte."

MCCat!König who smothers Bunny!Reader's face with kisses until she's giggling and playfully pushing him away, of course, to no avail. His kisses trail down her neck and to her not yet protruding tummy, nuzzling the soft skin there with reverence, even as she strokes his hair and reminds him their baby is barely the size of a bean right now. He doesn't care. All he can think about is the fact that their family is about to grow soon and while he loves the three buns like his own, there's an undeniable excitement within him about the fact that what resides in his lover's womb has his DNA.

MCCat!König who, together with Bunny!Reader, sits the buns down in their laps to tell them that soon, they'll have a little sibling or two. His eyes crinkle as he smiles widely at their reactions. They seem rather excited, their fuzzy, floppy ears perking up as they listen. The little girl immediately paws at her mommy's belly, trying to feel for the babies while one of the boys leans in and tries to listen, eager to hear the movement that isn't detectable yet. The other boy, however, raises an important question. "Where did mommy get the baby from?"

MCCat!König who exchanges awkward glances with Bunny!Reader before they try to explain the origin of the developing offspring to the buns, keeping it as child-friendly as possible. Though they seemed rather skeptical about König supposedly gifting their mommy a special apple that made her pregnant, they did not question it, apart from the oldest triplet: "Can every apple make you pregnant then?" "No, only the ones with special seed." He pretends to not see her annoyed side-eye glare.

MCCat!König who cannot keep his hands off of Bunny!Reader, whether he's stroking her ears and cheeks, cupping her belly protectively when they spoon or palming her breasts from behind, feeling them slowly swell with milk, thumbs gently brushing over her nipples which are now hyper-sensitive to touch. She has to slap his grubby hands away and dash when she starts lactating because he CAN and he WILL lick the milk.

MCCat!König who's now highly protective and impossible to get rid of, following Bunny!Reader everywhere like a puppy, often with the buns hanging off of him. She can really only get a few minutes of peace when she goes to pee and even then, König's like a guard dog, stood in front of the door like he's expecting their den to be busted in any second. At night, his arms are locked around her - never too tight, since he wants her to be as comfortable as possible. It isn't always achievable though, as Bunny!Reader's skin has been burning up for a few weeks now due to the pregnancy and it's very hard to get a good night's rest when her lover is a goddamn sentient furnace. She always wakes up sweaty and sticky, but doesn't dare to complain; anytime she does, the pervert tries to clean her body with his tongue.

MCCat!König who practically has heart eyes when Bunny!Reader's belly finally starts showing. At any opportunity, he will drop to his knees and kiss the bump, purring loudly whenever he feels the little one stir and kick. His big hands freeze on her belly when he feels one too many kicks from multiple directions. His tail, honest to god, starts wagging at the possibility of twins.

MCCat!König who indulges Bunny!Reader's every whim, whether it's her desire to spend the entire day in bed while he caters to her, going on walks in the rain (with her and the buns properly bundled up of course) or simply satisfying her regular cravings for the strangest things - honeyed avocado, peas in chocolate, even jerky. The other day, König caught her in the garden chewing on tulips, making brief eye contact with him. Even with cheeks full of petals, she looked remorseless. He couldn't help but be in love with how grass blades and leaves stuck out of her hair (and also relieved that what's been eating their flowers aren't some giant-ass insects).

MCCat!König who makes biscuits on Bunny!Reader's belly and thighs, gently kneading her plump flesh while purring loudly, making her laugh and wiggle under his hands, her squeaks attracting the buns who wander in and mimic König's activities with their little hands, accidentally tickling their mommy.

MCCat!König who knows Bunny!Reader's due date is close when she starts to arrange pillows and blankets into a warm nest. But, much to his dismay, she will only allow her buns near. Her primal rodent instincts unfortunately make her very irritated and snappy whenever König comes around, if only just to check on her. He tries to not take it personally, knowing that preparations for birth are stressful and she doesn't mean to stomp and chase him away from the room, it's just in her nature. Still, his anxiety gets the best out of him and he starts to question whether she'll allow him near her and their kids at all, with her being so territorial now.

MCCat!König who so badly wants to be there for Bunny!Reader during birth, but he does not want to stress her out even further, so he stays in the other room with the buns, letting them pile up on him and nap while he keeps his ears strained in case his lover calls for him.

MCCat!König who wakes up hours later to Bunny!Reader's gentle voice calling him, his stirring awaking the buns as well. He carefully opens the door to their bedroom and damn near melts when he sees her in the nest, curled protectively around two - no, three! - fuzzy bundles which are mewing and squirming. He makes a hesitant step and looks at her for approval. Only when she nods and smiles, he comes forth and kneels to finally meet his kittens.

MCCat!König who tries (and fails) to not sob as one of the babies grabs his finger with its tiny fist and squeezes. He looks so proud of his two little girls and a boy - and of their mother as well. He leans in and kisses Bunny!Reader's forehead, quietly thanking her for the wonderful new addition to the family.

MCCat!König who watches the buns gently handle their new siblings, seemingly excited at the prospect of being older brothers and sister. He watches Bunny!Reader smile tiredly, but proudly. König couldn't believe how lucky he is, to have her bring three little miracles to his life for the second time. He had no doubts that his lovely family is nothing short of perfect.

masterlist

[mommypieck]

𑄽୧ mutual masturbation with yuuji𔓘 ᰍ

kinktober day 13: touch me please!!!

✿ aged up!yuuji itadori x jealous!reader

✿ warnings: masturbation, fingering, jerking off

You and Yuuji have been best friends ever since you were little. He was always the bubbly golden retriever, and you were his shy black cat. he always stood by you when you were little, and he always stands by you now.

"And then she asked for my number," he exclaims, showing his hands all around. His smile is bright, and you're happy for him. He's so delighted that a girl hit on him for the first time. But there's something inside of you, that tells you it shouldn't be that way.

"What do you think of her?" Yuuji asks, almost breaking your nose with his phone. The girl in the picture is pretty, but you feel like Yuuji could get someone even prettier. For example, you think you are way cuter than that girl.

"Do you think I could lose my virginity to her?" The questions throw you off guard. Of course, you know that Yuuji is a virgin, but you didn't think he would lose it to someone he just met.

"Maybe we can practice," you mutter shyly, you don't want him to go and fuck some other girl. He kissed you when you were little, and even though you're both adults now, you can still feel that kiss on your lips

"Like to have sex?" he asks you, his eyes wide. You snort at him, "Of course not sex, but you probably don't know where the clit is."

He almost looks offended by your statement. Of course, he knows where the clit is, he thinks to himself. Gojo told him it was another name for the pee hole.

"You can just teach me a bit," you tell him, looking at him skeptically. His face suddenly turns serious, and you can see the wheels turning in his head.

"Okay." he breathes into your ear.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his hand traveling up your skirt. He almost whines when his fingers meet the warmth of your pussy. Yuuji rubs you over your panties, he's inexperienced, but he thinks he has an idea of what he's doing. You let out a surprised moan when he finds your clit.

"Did I find it?" he shoots you a teeth-full smile. You nod, he, in fact, found it so quickly. he hooks his fingers on the hem of your panties, pulling them down your legs. It's awkward with you sitting next to him, but he managed to do it.

"Oh my god." he moans, staring wide-eyed at your pussy. You want to slap him at that moment.

"What's the matter?" you ask him as you bite your lip.

"It's my first time seeing real pussy." he confesses, making you roll your eyes. You open your legs a bit more for him to get a better look, earning a whine from him.

"Do you want to touch me too?" he asks you, grabbing the tent in his pants and shoving it in your direction. You nod shyly, unable to look at him.

Your hand reaches out to cup him over his own hand, moving your hand with his own. he pulls down his pants, giving him a perfect view of the bulge in his boxers. You suppose he's big even though you have never seen a dick before.

Your hand slides into his boxers, fingers just gazing against his hard-on. You feel the veins on his dick under your fingers flexing. Your hand finds his tip, and you cringe at the slimy precum on the top.

He pulls his boxers down, finally revealing the hard-on you were playing with. You shut your lips shut, he's so pretty. He's pretty pink with his tip being a bit darker than the rest.

Your body shuffles closer to his, and you lay your head on his shoulder. Your hand cups his dick again, and you wrap your fist around him. Yuuji moans, and you can't help but think about how perfectly he fits in your hand.

While you're occupied with studying his cock, his own hand finds your pussy again. He tries to look for your clit again, and after a few swipes, he finds it again.

You lay side by side, your hand on his cock while he is between your legs. Both of you don't say anything. The only sounds are heavy breathing and moans and whines.

His fingers tease your opening, collecting all your juices on his digits. You jump a little at his gesture, closing your legs around his hand.

"Come on, let me touch you inside," he whines, pulling your legs apart so he can touch you again. You shake his head, there is no way you are gonna let him finger you.

"I'm gonna give you a kiss if you let me put fingers inside." Yuuji offers you, and your ears perk up. Maybe if he kisses you, he's gonna forget all about that other girl. You think for a moment before pecking his lips in a quick kiss, catching him off guard. He smiles at you, and he plants a kiss into your hair.

He carefully pushes one of his fingers inside, making you wince in pain. even just one digit is too big for you. Your hand speeds on his cock, trying to find some distraction from his hand. You have to agree that his finger doesn't feel as bad inside of you. It's a bit strange, but the spot he massages makes you see stars.

His whole palm is pressed against your pussy, adding pressure on your clit while he discovers your insides.

You can feel his twitching in your hand, indicating he's super close. Your focus is set on his cock, you wanna see how it looks when he cums. You grip him a little tighter, jerking him faster. It takes a few tugs before he's cumming all over your hand.

His hand between your legs doesn't stop, in fact, it gets rougher, trying to bring you to your orgasm too. Your stomach feels weird, and your whole body tenses as you cum. Your body jerks on its own as you ride out your orgasm.

You don't realize you closed your eyes until you see him smiling up at you. He looks like an angel, his eyes screaming a worried look.

"Did you like it?" he asks you, making you hide your face in the crook of his neck. He can feel your hot cheeks telling him that you did.

"I am not gonna answer that girl. I liked being like this with you."

taglist: @mcharris747 @huuuuut30 @krispsprite @bejewelledd @cawwn @veryninjanacho @jamayah @dngerwayz @nwptune @universlypiratecolor @ffakegucci @merachannie @d1lf-luvr @th3girln3xtdoor @nobody289x @iheartpieck @gia999 @kawasgirl @st4rrlighttt @candyeyeroll @7haze @banchangsbbbg @nigthmar3moon @softlilpeachxx @d1gitalbath @jaenniii

@satorustar @balenciagarette

[gatorbites-imagines]

I definitely think he would 100% jump and knot, maybe only pissing when he’s knotted deep inside that way his scent soaks into your core other wise he’ll just Sven all over and leave hickeys and bite marks everywhere. I also think 70% of the time he’s a sub top cause he likes to fuck you but is also very much overwhelmed by the pleasure, love, and care he gets from sex with reader. I think he may not nest on his own but as soon as cat or mark does he’s cuddling up with cat boy mark due to the amount of you scent all over it and knowing what’s it’s like to be a hybrid like cat boy mark, maybe some dog/wolf boy mark and catboy mark stuff? Say they both go into their rut/heat while you are gone or out and so they use each other as stand in’s for the reader until he gets back. Dog boy mark would definitely be like another super lovey and involved parent if cat boy mark gives birth due to the babies having quite a bit of reader in them

Wolf Hybrid Mark Grayson 

I like to think Mark is a wolf hybrid, and Nolan is something like a Epicyon haydeni or Dire wolf or something. So thats what ill be going off. 

I agree with everything you have written. Wolf hybrid Mark would be more giddy and energetic than the others, hes audibly panting on the regular, with his wolf ears and tail summoned more than tiger hybrid mark has his. 

Wolf hybrid Mark would be embarrassed about his need to scent stuff and his territory. Reader counts under that territory, and Wolf hybrid Mark self isolates for a bit when he keeps wanting to piss on things, reader included.  

Would try to suppress this wants by humping stuff instead, whining and growling to himself as he just spills all over the readers work clothes or bed. Mark ends up fumbling to clean it all up, tail tucked between his legs in shame. 

He would be far from the only mark who would mark the reader up, so its hard to tell apart which mark left which hickey, but boy does wolf hybrid makr bite, lick and chew.  

One of the few marks that tops for the most part, but he doesnt just top reader, he also tops other Marks, especially tiger hybrid Mark. The two can be caught humping like animals inside tiger marks nest inside the closet. The scent can get pretty damn strong sometimes. 

one of the biggest Marks too, you know where. you would think he has three legs sometimes. at least he doesnt let it get to his head and give him an ego.

Ends up knotting other Marks in some kinda power display, like sinister Mark or 20/20 Mark. I feel like he spends the worst parts of his rut with other Marks because he tends to lose control. Or the other marks are there to hold him back so he doesnt accidentally maul the reader or knot him before hes ready. 

He always ends up being extremely apologetic cuz he does too hard, and acts “too nasty” in his own words. Aka, peeing on stuff, inside stuff... rubbing his spend into whatever or whoever. 

Wolf hybrid Mark is a good boy, he just gets too excited sometimes. When hes not rutting and reader isnt smelling like smex on legs, then hes fine and like all the other Marks. So, at least theres that. 

[rinkkuma]

୨୧ BF SATORU

ft. satoru gojo

tags. gn!reader, a bit of cussing, all fluff ! / author's note. IHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (i've actually been going insane because of how much he's taking up my mind) first post of 2024 had to be my one and only of course :3

uses you as an arm rest even if you're a tiny bit shorter than him. (satoru is 6'3 / 190cm for reference) if you're really short though, he has to lean down more and he's standing like the leaning tower of pisa, so he looks silly.

FACE CARD. he's actually the most majestic, gorgeous, beautiful man alive. up close, far away, from the left, from the right, above, below, he looks so fucking good. don't even get me started on when he has his glasses on.

satoru has a million gazillion of those skincare headbands with ears. he has a few cat ones, a hello kitty one, a kuromi one, and many many more. he even has a whole drawer dedicated to the headbands. (that is very close to overloading) he looks super duper cute with them though, so you never have the heart to tell him to stop buying every headband in existence.

whenever he feeds you something, he puts his hand under your chin to catch any crumbs. a tiny gesture to him, a big one for you. he smiles when your eyes widen and you mumble a “it's good”, and proceeds to poke your cheek.

satoru puts his hand above your head to make sure you don't bump your head whenever you go under a table to pick something up.

he is ever so slightly awkward in the beginning of your relationship, but it's cute! the first time you fell asleep on him, he was terrified to move because he was afraid to accidentally wake you up. 2 hours later satoru really really needed to pee, but decided not to get up because of how much it felt like a crime to wake you up. (you ended waking up anyways because of how much he was fidgeting.)

tucks your hair behind your ears before you can even realize it's bothering you. he looks at you with the most lovesick expression as he does this. he also does this while you're falling asleep, or already fast asleep.

before bed or as you guys wind down for the night, he more than often bursts out laughing at a random thought or a funny memory. scares the shit out of you because one; he's right by your ear, and two; his laugh is loud as fuck. he can't even explain what he was laughing about until a solid three minutes because of how much he was laughing. (and it ends up not being that funny.)

adding onto the above, he's the type to think everything is funny as shit at night. every reel, tiktok, you name it. (even if it's the unfunniest video known to mankind) sometimes if you're already asleep, he has to step out into the bathroom or living room to let out these laughs.

wipes the sweat off his face by pulling his shirt up. he looks at you with a smug fucking smile after.

his contact name for you on his phone is definitely some cheesy pet name (sweet cheeks, baby cakes) with a bunch of heart emojis. his contact photo for you is another story though. constantly changing from a close up picture to a picture of you sleeping.

satoru gets cuteness aggression a lot because of you. clenching his fist and sighing before squeezing you into a tight hug. he'll occasionally bite your shoulder too.

a human radiator. the first time you touched him you thought he had a severe fever, but he calmly told you he was warm all the time. it absolutely sucks during summer because he insists to cuddle with you, and most than often you wake up sweaty. (even with the ac blasting) of course, you try to move out of his grasp when he's asleep, but he only pulls you closer subconsciously when you do. during the winter though, you are so thankful. despite the various blankets you have on, it was hard to get warm and comfortable, but with the warmth of satoru you're nice and warm.

bickers with you if you're on his side of the couch. yes, satoru does unassigned assigned seats at home too. you two playfully argue for a few minutes until he eventually huffs and just sits down on. these arguments are useless though because he ends up pulling you next to him to cuddle.

he's actually really good at taking people when they're sick. making sure you're staying warm under the covers, feeding you proper nutrition and making sure you're drinking enough water. he occasionally leaves the room for you to rest since he doesn't want his naturally warm body making you even warmer, but if he ever sees you up (you're going to the bathroom) he jumps off the couch and pushes you back into bed.

satoru suggests movie nights at home on quiet weekends. turning on an animated movie or romantic movie most of the time. he tucks you into his side with a blanket draped over the two of you. he ends up just staring at you the majority of the movie though.

does that thing where he tells you your shoelace is untied, (which prompts you to look down) and grabs your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. he smirks triumphantly. he does this multiple times a week, and you fall for it every time.

he spoils the fuck out of you on your birthday. gives you the amount of kisses the same age you're turning, listing number of reasons why they love you based on your age, and don't even get me started with how many gifts he gives you. dances while he sings you happy birthday.

once you start dating, you never are tying your own shoe ever again. before going out, he demands you to sit on the couch while he ties your shoes for you. when they get untied, he normally notices it before you. but if you do notice before him and you begin to crouch down, he rushes to crouch down before you and pushes your hand away.

likes comparing hand sizes with you. he has big ass hands, so he likes seeing how small yours are compared to his. totally not an excuse to hold your hand though, not that he would ever admit it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To Those Who Wait 5

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: this is almost 5k and took me a long while. Enjoy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

You awake with a start. You lurch but can't pull away from the warmth around you. You blink and gurgle through the dregs of drowsiness. Curtis clings to you as his breathing rises and falls slowly. You touch his chest and try again. 

He groans and tightens his hold on you. You're stuck between him and the back of the couch. You drag your hand up and tickle his neck. 

"Hey, I gotta get up," you say. 

"Why?" He gristles without opening his eyes. 

"I gotta... gotta pee," you say shyly. 

"Mmph, hold it," he grumbles. 

You tut, "or maybe I can stain this nice cozy couch." 

"Don't be dramatic," he squeezes you and puts you on top of him. "You wanna get wet," his lashes flick open, "I can help with that." 

"Curt," you narrow your eyes. "I'm not making excuses-- Argh, oh god, yup," you wince, "I'm definitely thirty." 

He chuckles and runs his hand down your side, "hips? Back?" He slips his hand around your ass, "something else getting stiff?" 

"I didn't take you for a morning person," you tease. 

"I'm not, but I'll let you wake me up," he eyes you hungrily. 

"Please," you push on his chest and he lets you lift yourself, only to catch your thighs as you straddle him. 

"Mm, I like this," he purrs as he trails up to your hips. You squeak as your bladder pulses. 

"I'm not kidding," you grab his large hands. 

"Ugh, fine, you're lucky you're cute," he lets you go and stretches his arms above him. His chest strains the tee shirt across it as he does. 

You get off and quickly spin, scurrying away to the bathroom as the urgency tingles across your pelvis. You close yourself in the bathroom and take your time, pushing past the tight resistance of holding it too long. The night before hazes through your mind.  

Pizza, movies, and snuggling. You're getting used to that last part. You don't even remember falling asleep. Usually you lay awake for hours before you manage to doze off. 

You rinse your face before you come out. You smell coffee. You hear him moving around in the kitchen. Instinctively, you check to see where your phone is. Right there on the end table where you left it. 

You go into the kitchen as he yawns and rubs his eyes. You stand in the doorway, leaning on the frame as he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. He turns and puts his hand on the counter. 

"Well, you don't work Saturdays do you?" He asks. 

You shake your head, "not anymore." 

"So that means you're free?" 

His smirk makes you smile. You shrug. 

"Well, I have lots to catch up on. Laundry, groceries... sleeping. Late night." 

"Not late enough," he winks. 

You look away. You would love to have tried but you're still a bit unsettled by Hugh. And ashamed. You're just not ready for that. 

"So no hatchet-throwing?" He quickly redirects.  

"Hmm, I'm tempted," you say. 

He's quiet as he turns to open the cupboard. He takes out a plain black mug, then another, a similar shade but the handle is a tail; like a cat. 

"Reminded me of you," he says. 

Your cheeks tinge, "oh, dark things make you think of me?" 

He scoffs, "cute things." 

You cross your arms and look at the floor. 

"Curtis, thanks uh--" 

"I really don't think you should go back. Today." He says bluntly. "It's not even been twenty-four hours since the creep showed up. At your work," he looks at you with a dire tweak in his brow. "As your boyfriend, I can't let you." 

You reach to scratch your nose, "sure, uh, that's... nice of you to worry--" 

"You got his vibe, didn't you? Something wrong with him. From what you've told me, he showed you as much--" 

You put your hands to your neck and blow out, "I don't want to think about that." 

"Trust me, I don't either," he turns to grab the carafe from the coffee machine. "So why don't we go out? Make a day of it." He pours the coffee and peeks over at you. "I missed you." 

Your chest throbs. Yeah. You did ditch him out of nowhere. It's not like you don't feel the same, 

"Me too." 

His cheek dimples. 

"Alright then. All you gotta do is let me treat my girl right," he offers you a cup. 

"Sure, not trying is exactly what I'm good at," you kid. 

He squints and you give a sheepish look. 

"Try being nice to yourself at least," he steps closer and kisses your forehead, "you know I don't like that." 

"I'm joking--" 

"Not very funny though," he says. He steps back and slurps down the coffee. "Ugh, let me just wake up a bit here."  

"Yeah, think I need to," you inhale the aroma. It soothes your achy head. 

You shuffle out of the kitchen and wander over to your phone. It's a compulsion at this point. You taste the coffee and hum as you hit the side button on your phone. 

"Mm, what kinda coffee is this? It's really..." your voice drifts off.  

There's a message. You tap it with your thumb. It's not WhatsApp this time. You've never got a DM on Insta. You only signed up for some raffle thing. It's fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds of your regret sent from a shell account. Below, it read; 'think your boss would be impressed?' 

The little checkmark turns colourful as you stare at the image. Shoot. He knows you've seen. 

"It's really what?" Curtis asks as he strides in from the kitchen. 

"Huh?" You blink and look up at him. 

"Doesn't that thing make your eyes hurt so early?" He chides. 

"Um..." you hit the side button to hide the screen. He knows as much as needs to, and he's done more than he should. "Habit. Vivica always dogpiles me with memes." 

"Hm, well, wanna make a deal?" He drawls. 

You look at him, tweaked by the timbre in his voice. There's irritation just beneath the surface. 

"I'm gonna take you out today and we're gonna leave our phones at home." 

You guiltily set the cell back on the table, "sure. That's a good idea." 

You bring your hand back up to cradle the mug and sip. 

"Cool," he says. "Figure, we can focus on catching up." 

"Right," you agree. Is he expecting a different response? 

"Great," he inhales and hovers his cup in front of his lips. "What were you saying about the coffee?" 

"Oh, it's really good." 

"I have a trick," he grins. "Stick around long enough and I'll show you." 

You smile and look down. "Awesome." 

☕

You make a brief pit stop at your apartment to grab some clothes. Curtis waits outside as the rumble of his motorcycle echoes his patience. You change into fresh clothes and grab a spare set and few necessities before you go. Not more than can fit in his saddle bags. 

Back on the road, you cling to him. The smell of leather melds with his sweat and whatever fragrance he wears. Oaky. 

You lean into him as he revs up and speeds along the country roads and backways. You recognize the twisted elm tree in the middle of a field and the rickety fence with fading white paint and splintering posts. He rolls in towards the same farmhouse and antiquated barn. He drops his feet onto the ground as he comes to a stop. The roaring engine quiets and your ears ring. 

You get off first and undo the strap of the helmet. Your legs still thrum from the rumble of the engine. He kicks down the stand and climbs off. 

"Whose place is this?" You ask. 

He shrugs, "a buddy." 

"Sure is a nice buddy, letting you take over." 

"He's busy a lot." 

"Not working on his farm?" You wonder. 

"Waiting for the reaping," he takes your helmet and hangs both on the handlebars. "None of your friends have a super cool farm?" 

"Nah, Vivica is a city girl and the rest are... well." 

He snorts, "how the heck did you end up with them?" 

"I ask myself the same thing. More so, how they ended up with me." 

He tuts as his cheek ticks. The humour drains slowly from his features. He waves you down the same path as last time. 

"Come on, let's try to have a good day. The sun's out here trying," he girds. 

You walk ahead of him. You stare at the ground. You don't mean to be a downer. Self-deprecation has always been a shield. It's better to say the obvious first before someone else points it out. 

He clears his throat as you clear the house. You lift your head and stop short. He collides with your back, his hands settling on your hips. 

The picnic table is draped in a white tablecloth, a bouquet is arranged perfectly in a basket, the handle wrapped in ribbon, and a picnic basket sits next to it. You put your hands on Curtis', shocked at the display. He squeezes and urges you forward. 

"So what do you think? You hungry?" He asks. "Can't have you throwing axes on an empty stomach. Otherwise, I might get cut." 

"You... How did you?" You utter. 

"My buddy helped. Obviously," he walks you to the table. "I'm calling in all my favours." 

"It's really..." you step away from his grasp. "Sweet." 

"Huh, you don't sound that impressed," he says as he goes to the end of the table and grabs the lighter off the top. He takes one of the candles in a jar and lights it. 

"I am... no one..." you sit on the bench as you nearly deflate. You're flattered and happy and everything but it also feels so bittersweet. "No one's ever done anything like this for me before." 

"Well," he puts down the second candle and sets the lighter beside it. He steps up to lower himself onto the bench beside you. "I'm not no one," he touches your back and you smile. Your chest is all tight. 

"Curt," you tilt your chin down then look at him, flicking your lashes over your burning eyes. "You're..." Too good for me. Too sweet. Too everything.  

You don't say any of it. You just pull him close and kiss him. You smother his lips with yours as he purrs. His hand crawls up your back and he locks you in his embrace. You never want to let him go. 

🪓

Curtis nuzzles along your jaw and nips at your skin. You shiver and curl your fingers along his shoulder blade. Your breath clouds around you hotly, sweat beading over your hairline and nape. Your eyes flick open and fixate on the wall. 

He growls as he cradles your head and nudges your chin up, kissing along your throat as you quiver. Your heart flips and your stomach turns. It’s all so nice. Too nice. Too much! 

You push on his side and whine his name, “Curtis, Curtis. Please, stop. Stop, stop.” 

He exhales and lifts himself to look down at you. His brows stitch in concern. You look away from him in guilt. What’s wrong with you? 

“I can’t-- I--” you sputter. “You don’t want me. You can’t. How could you?” 

He leans in and drags his nose along your cheek. “Of course I want you, babe. How could I not, hmm?” He kisses your cheek and makes a trail down to your mouth. His lips brush yours and he hums again, “won’t you let me show you how much I want you?” He nibbles your lower lip and tugs on it softly. He lets it go and rocks against you. “Can’t you feel how much I need you?” 

You can, even as he still wears the black jeans he took you out in, your own still taut across your hips. The scent of pollen and sweat cling to both of you. The day hazes behind you, the late afternoon dimming between the grey curtains. 

You rub his chest, “I...” your eyes rove around the room. The poster of a classic Boris Karloff horror, another of a 90s cult classic. You don’t think another man will ever be so perfect. That they’ll ever be interested in you. Not like Curtis. “I want you too.” 

“Baby,” he grinds his pelvis into yours. 

You squirm and slip your hand up to your shoulder, dodging another kiss. 

“I want... to...” you say, curling your fingers. “But, er...” your cheeks set alight as your eyes dart back and forth. You swallow tightly. “Do you... have protection?” 

He chuckles, a rocky crackle in his throat. He presses his lips to your forehead and pushes off you. The bed bounces with his movement. You watch him as he goes to the tall black dress. He broad shoulders stretch out his black tee. 

“Course,” he says. “I’ve been ready for you, baby.” 

He comes back to you and places the small gold and black square on the night stand. He stands at the side of the bed rolls up his tee shirt. He strips it off and reveals his hair-trimmed torso. He keeps his head tidy and short but the rest of him is untamed. The dark fur laces over deeply etched muscle. 

You push yourself up reach behind your neck. He drops his tee and moves to stop you. He clucks. 

“Ah, I’m in no rush,” he pulls your arm down. “I wanna enjoy this. I want you to.” He sits on the edge of the bed. “You let me do everything.” 

He slips his hand up behind your head and draws you into another kiss. Gentle at first, growing hungrier as his tongue invades and his fingers bend against your skull. He inhales you, almost rocking you as he drinks you in. You hook your arm around his neck and he pushes you onto your back. 

He grabs your other hand, twining his fingers with yours, and holds it above the pillow as he devours you. His growls flood your throat and his heat swathes around you. His fingertips caress your scalp and he parts with a sigh. 

He sits up and looks you up and down. He drags his hand away from your hair and strokes your cheek and chin. You glance away shyly. He frames your jaw and turns your head straight, his thumb toying with your lower lip. 

“You are gorgeous, you know that?” He purrs. 

You can’t speak. Your chest is racked, as if there are chains wrapped around your ribs. You smile, cheeks flushing, body surging with fire. 

He traces down your neck, his roughened touch raising bumps on your skin. He lingers on the vee of your tee shirt, his eyes following the path of his hand. He glosses over the cotton down to the hem. Your muscles tense as he tickles along your lower stomach. 

He hooks his thumb under the fabric and tugs it up slowly. You curl up and lift your arms as he peels off the shirt. You lay back, shallow breaths swelling in your chest as your chest bulges in your plain bra. You peek down. 

“Sorry, I didn’t have anything... prettier.” 

“Perfect,” he rasps and bends to kiss along the top of your chest, just beneath your collar bone. His nose drags with his lips and leaves a trail down to cleavage. He shifts and brings his hand to cup one tit as he burrows his face between them. 

You gasp and brush the back of his head with your palm. His breath sends tendrils of ice through you. The new sensations are scary but you don’t want him to stop. This is the right way. This is how you should have done it... 

He follows the edge of your bra to the strap and slips it down your shoulder. He does the same with the other and slides his hands beneath you. You arch your back as he unhooks your bra. You shiver and your hand falls to his firm shoulder. You squeeze the muscle, hypnotised by his Adonis form. 

“Wow,” you eke out. 

He raises himself, just a bit, and drags away your bra. You squeak and cover yourself instinctively as your tits fall free. You giggle as he looks down at you. His grey-blue eyes are darker, hotter. 

“Wow?” He echoes coyly. 

“You... um... sorry, I just...” 

“Wow, you,” he growls. 

He pulls your wrists apart and frees your chest. He pins your hands to the bed and bends over you again. His strength is overwhelming but alluring. You don’t want to escape him. He bows and nibbles at the soft flesh, teasing with his teeth and tongue, taking your nipple between his lips with a hum. 

His timbre flows through you and you whine again. Your spine curves and your toes curl. His tongue flicks around the hard pebble and pressure builds as he sucks. You writhe and moan. 

He takes his time tending to you, moving across your chest with a smear of saliva. Snarling as he tastes you, toys with you, tantalizes you. He pinches just enough for you to squeal and he snickers in delight. You squirm as your walls clench. 

“Curt,” you murmur. 

“Patience, baby, I got it,” he lets go of your wrists and turns to kiss down your stomach. You twitch and try to cover it. He pushes your hand away. “Mmm.” He bites into you, “why you hiding?” 

“I’m not... I just--” 

He spreads his large hand across your stomach and squeezes. He delights in the pillow of your middle, doting on it as he inches closer and closer to the top of your jeans. He trails his hand over the acid wash and down your thigh. 

His nose grazes over your waistline and he bites down on the denim. He tugs with his teeth until the button pops open. You gasp again. You’re not nervous like you were before. Not afraid. You just want to stop thinking about that. 

He flutters up to the top of your jeans and slips his fingers beneath. He pulls them down, little by little, easing you out of them, following the line of your legs. He untangles them from your ankles and hurls them carelessly away from the bed. 

He gets to his knees and pushes yours apart. Your stomach flips. You look down at your panties and cover your chest again. He’s fixated on them as well. 

He lowers himself to his stomach and nuzzles the cotton. You wince and he looks up at you. His brows arch as he inhales your, nestling into you as he pushes his nose against your cunt. Your thighs twitch.  

He pushes his arms wide under your legs and bends to graze along the bottom of your ass. He guides your thighs over his shoulders and tilts his head down. His long lashes flick and he rolls his head as he burrows into you. 

He growls and kneads your thighs, pushing them against his head. He teases you, his tongue wetting the fabric as he plays with you through them. You slap your hands against the bed and clasp onto the dark coverlet. Your feet arch and your calves strain. 

His hand crawls away from thigh and dips beneath you. He tugs aside your panties and flicks his tongue lightly over your folds. You moan and lift your hip. He keeps his fingers hooked around the cotton and plunges his cool tongue into your heat. You whine at the swirling sensation that unfurls through you. 

He spreads his tongue wide and drags it up. He hums and slides back down. He drinks you in, pressing his nose into you, smearing your slickness over his face. He snarls and circles your clit cloyingly. You shiver and squeak, reaching for the back of his head. 

You push him down. He doesn’t resist. He seals his lips around your clit and you whimper. He sucks and flicks his tongue; swirling, up and down, side to side, pinpointing ever nerve to your core. 

You heave and bring your other hand down to grip his head, your hips bucking as your stomach ties in knots and your spine goes rigid. You hiss through your teeth, eyes rolling back, legs bending, feet pushing into the mattress. You lift your pelvis as you urge him, writhing in time with him. 

You squeal as the sudden release has your muscles tingle and spasming. You fall back and shake as you cum. He laps it up, growling and groaning as he drinks you in. He doesn’t stop until your breathlessly babbling. 

He lifts his head and smacks his lips. He sits up as your legs splay limply around him. He sits on his knees and grips your panties. He snaps them at the seam and pushes the elastic up your stomach. You gasp and look down at the ruin. 

He delves between your lips with his fingers. He rubs you with two, down to your entrance and back again. He repeats the motion as you groan and gasp. He teases you, pausing to roll around your clit, then slipping back to your entrance. 

He turns his hand and pushes against you. His eyes meet yours as he dips a finger into you. You squeak as he glides in to his knuckle. He drags his finger out slowly and adds a second, once more diving in deep. He presses the heel of his hand to your clit. 

He keeps his hand between your legs and moves to bend over you, keeping himself up on his elbow. He kisses you as he rocks his hand. You groan into his mouth, the sweet flavour on his tongue staining your own. Is that what you taste like? 

He keeps his hand tilting and your thighs clench around it. You latch onto his wrist, moving your hips as you feel the same swell building within. You turn your head and choke on a whimper. You cum again, you insides twitching and clinging to him. 

“That good?” He grits in your ear. You hum and nod. 

“Curtis...” 

He slips his hand free and drags his wet fingers up your body. He brings them to your chin and forces your head straight. He rests his forehead on yours. 

“Baby?” 

“I... please...” 

“You sure?” He asks. 

“I’m sure.” You wisp. 

He inhales and kisses you. He parts and gets up, jostling you and the bed. He stands by the side of the bed. His stomach tenses as he undoes his fly. You can see him in his jeans, ready to burst. You push your thighs together. You did that? 

He pushes his jeans down and groans at the friction of denim and cotton. He steps out of them and pulls the elastic of his boxers out, guiding them down his thighs as his dick bobs before him. You blink and stare at him. He’s big; thick. His veins bulge under his skin and his tip weeps with glistening anticipation. 

He takes the condom and tears open the package. He grunts as he puts the rubber against his tip. His hips recoil and he grips the base of his dick as he rolls the condom on. He hisses as he does. 

“You alright?” You ask. 

“Yeah, baby, just... been waiting,” he says. 

He lowers himself onto the bed, laying on his side. You don’t know what to do. You expected him to get between your legs, to have you on your back like Hugh did. Maybe even face down. 

He caresses you from neck to pelvis and up again. You watch his hand as you tremble. You touch his fingers then follow the length of his arm. You turn onto your side to face him. 

You pet the hair along his chest and spread your fingers to feel his muscle. You bite your lip. You watch his muscles contract as you stroke his stomach. You brush again his tip and he twitches. 

You gently wrap your fingers around him. He groans. You pump him slowly. He curls his fingers into your side. He kisses your hairline. You grip him tighter and do it again. 

“Can’t...” he growls into your hair. 

He slides his hand past your ass to your thigh. He guides your leg over his hip and shifts closer. He bends his leg under your to hold it up and reaches behind you. He uses his fingers to guide his tip to your entrance. He pauses as you look up at him. 

He adjusts his shoulders and slides an arm beneath you. He draws you even closer. He touches your nose with his then presses another kiss to your lips. He snarls as he stretches you around his tip. 

You curl an arm around him, hooking your leg around his, and welcome him in. He shakes as he rocks carefully, easing in and out with each inch. You whine and pull away from his lips, tilting your head back. Your voice unravels as he gets deeper and deeper. 

He plunges in as deep as he can and pulls out slowly. You quiver and squeeze him tight. You look him in the eye and sigh. 

“Curtis,” you say. “I need you to fuck me.” 

He growls and his pupils grow. He pushes you onto your back, bringing himself over you. You keep your leg hook over him. He dips in again, holding himself at his limit, even deeper than before. You squirm and latch onto his bicep, squeezing the thick muscle as he bends it beneath your head. 

“This what you want?” He gives a long torturous thrust. “Like this?” 

“More.” You gasp. 

“More?” He snaps his hips but pulls out slow again. 

“Faster,” you demand. 

“Mmm,” he hums, “baby, I told you, I wanna enjoy you.” 

“Harder,” you bring your other hand to his neck, curling it behind. “Please, just fuck me.” 

“Faster?” He speeds up just a little. “Harder?” He ruts so you sink into the mattress just a little. 

“Mhmm,” you moan. 

“Okay,” his rhythm stays as it is. 

“More!” Your nails dig into his bicep. 

“You got all of me baby,” his hips rock steady. 

“No, more,” you beg. 

“More?” He look down between your bodies. You follow his gaze, just a glimpse of him and you. 

“Fuck me!” You yelp. “Please.” 

“I’m fucking you, baby,” he smirks and bows to kiss your throat. 

“Curt--” You squeak as he jolts you but doesn’t speed up. 

“Mm, I just... I want you around me forever,” he growls into your neck. 

“Please--” 

He growls as he keeps his tempo. You writhe desperately. Pleading as he keeps nipping and pecking over your neck and shoulders. In, out, in out. Just enough to bring you to the edge but not over. 

He hooks his other arm beneath you and all once, lifts himself up. He sits on his heels as he put you in his lap. He fills you up as you catch yourself against his chest. He smothers your mouth with his. 

He rolls his hips. You twitch and whine. He does it again. Again. Again. You feel him speeding up. You cling to him, tongues wrestling, breath mingling, bodies intertwined. You move in tandem with him, working towards that thrum pulsing inside of you. 

You pull your lips from his and lean your head on his, moaning in his ear. 

“Oh, Curt, I’m-- I’m--” 

You orgasm and squeal, clawing at his back as you do. He snickers as he keeps on. You twitch and tremble as your clit burns against his pelvis. 

He reaches to untangle your arms from around his neck. He eases you back so you hang off him. He moves your hips with one hand, the other on your shoulder as he watches himself fuck you from below. Your head lolls back as you clasp onto his shoulders to keep from falling off. 

“Fuck, baby, fuck--” He rasps as his pace turns frantic. He pounds against you, flesh clapping, breath chugging, fingers dipping into your flesh. “Ah-ah-ah.” 

He rams up into you, several times before quaking and slowing, whining as he cums. He shudders and stills you, letting you down onto your back. You huff in unison, staring at each other as the afterglow blooms around you. His shoulders drop as you lay limp on the mattress, him still inside. 

He looks down and pets your thighs. You spasm and catch his hands. 

“You got me,” he says as he meets your eye again. “Baby, I’m yours.” 

Your lashes flutter. You don’t know what to say. 

“Baby?” 

You look at him. What? 

“You’re mine, aren’t ya?” 

You flinch then nod. His eyes narrow. 

“Say it.” 

You hesitate and swallow. 

“Curt--” 

He snaps his hips and you squeal. 

“I--” you croak. “I’m yours.” 

He grins and snickers as he falls forward, pinning you beneath him. He thrusts lazily as you squirm. “Damn right.” 

[mousegirlheart]

i love my son so much he's such a therapy cat, he comes to me when i cry and follows me room to room so im never alone and is fantastic for recognising hallucinations but by god has he got separation anxiety. i put a door between us and he will start screaming, crying and will eventually headbutt the door with all the force of the assembled hordes of Genghis Khan.

pictured here standing on his own toilet while intently watching me pee (he's helping???)

[whisperofaflame]

♡ Collision Course ♡

Chapter 3: The Cat, the Witch and the Spider

Collision Course – Masterlist

Link to full fic (so far) on AO3

Story Summary:

After moving to New York, a collision while cycling sends you flying into the lives of Wanda Maximoff and her wife, Natasha Romanoff. Together, they teach you a new way of belonging and being loved.

Chapter Summary: You spend the rest of the day in Wanda's company, anticipating the return of her wife, Natasha.

Word Count: 6.6k

Featuring: A really cute cat, and the first appearance of Natasha.

When you pull yourself out of your daydream, you realise you haven’t been to the bathroom for hours, and you really need to pee. You stand up and hastily make your way out the bedroom and into the bathroom on the same floor. You’re so focussed on your need that it isn’t until after, when you’re washing your usable hand at the sink, that you notice the state of yourself. Starting at your chin and spreading up your right cheek is a patch of pink, grazed skin. You look awful; it’s very evident that you endured something untoward recently. It looks clean though, so you consider that someone must have seen to it at some point this morning, since it most likely came from your close encounter with the tarmac, and that must have left some residue. It’s funny, how seeing your injuries in the mirror triggers your brain to receive the pain. You can feel the sting in your cheek now that you know it is there, now you understand the signals. You wonder if it was all getting mixed up with the shoulder pain before.

You look down at the rest of you, seeing your top is worn thin beneath the sling, where it dragged along the road. Your jeans too look a little battered, but there don’t seem to be any rips or holes. You wonder what your legs look like beneath, whether there are more scrapes hidden under the denim, or any purple patches emerging under your skin. You’d really like to change out of your jeans into something more comfy, but it occurs to you that it’s going to be an ordeal to change with only one arm, and your non-dominant arm at that. Even going to the toilet was a faff. 

Looking at yourself in the mirror again, you realise there is perhaps one thing you can do to improve your appearance even a little. Your hair is sticking up all over the place, half in and half out of the bobble you wrapped around your ponytail before you left your flat this morning. No wonder Wanda keeps brushing it out your eyes. And as lovely as it feels to have her gentle touch, you’d much rather look presentable in front of her. 

You remember there is a mirror in the walk-in closet of your bedroom, which you glanced in your periphery when Wanda was showing you around. So you head back there, and wiggle your hairbrush out the toiletries bag, after wrestling with the zip a while. You’ve found it’s best to attempt everything with one hand first, and only employ the dangling fingers of your right arm in the direst of straights, since any use of that side inevitably provokes an intensive throbbing in your broken bone. So you wrangle the tool out with a single fumbling hand and approach the mirror with a grimace of determination. 

It’s clumsy work, making you really how lopsided your muscles must be in your body, but you just about manage to tame your hair with your left hand. That is, until you gain confidence and start making fast, cocky strokes — which you simply don’t have the dexterity to control. The full weight of the hairbrush, plus the momentum you’ve pushed in with your hand, collides with your collarbone, and you have to bite hard on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. You hiss out through the cracks, scrunching your eyes shut and squeezing out a few tears. A range of swear words run through your head as you try to fight the feeling with ferocious thoughts. 

It doesn’t really go away, but it does subside a tiny bit after half a minute of agony. You force yourself to take deep breaths and look up at yourself again. It’s good enough; no more hair brushing for now, you decide. 

You don’t feel particularly tired anymore; your dozing in the car seems to have been enough to revitalise you. So there’s nothing to do but go downstairs and join Wanda in the kitchen. You wonder about bringing something down with you, something to do, but you decide against it. For now, you’ll just go with the flow. 

You leave the bedroom door open as you leave, since it feels private enough tucked away at the top of the stairs, and you don’t have anything to hide anyway. Then you take careful, quiet steps down the winding staircase. Down to the level with Wanda’s bedroom, then down again to the entrance level, as the sound of classical music slowly seeps into your consciousness. 

You turn to your left at the bottom of the stairs, stepping softly into the kitchen in your ankle socks. Wanda is at the stove but she twists to face you, greeting you with an all-encompassing smile, which reaches her eyes and softens her shoulders. 

She’s so beautiful. 

“Here, sweetheart,” Wanda says, pulling out a bar stool from under the island in the middle. “Take a seat while I cook.” 

You awkwardly shimmy onto the high stool, feeling off-balance due to your rigid right side. Then you place your good hand on the counter and push against it to spin the stool, so you can face Wanda. She places a hand gently on your knee.

“I’m making a big omelette for us,” she tells you with a smile. Then she tilts her head slightly. “I hope that’s okay?”

You nod, feeling dazed. It’s hard to focus like this, when your senses are assaulted by her kindness from all avenues — her voice, her smile, her touch. Wanda gives your knee a light squeeze, then she turns back to the pan on the hob. You chew your lip and press your hand between your legs, just above your knees. It’s only now that one arm is out of action that you realise how fidgety you are, since you’re constantly initiating motions to clasp your hands or arms together, all of which have to be aborted when you remember your arm is off-duty. Instead, your feet find a little rung on the stool and you lightly bounce your left leg up and down while you watch Wanda. She’s moving so fluidly, her body responding ever so slightly to the music playing from a radio on the corner of the counter.  She hums a little too, happily occupied in her cooking. You let the sight, the sound, the smell wash over you.

When Wanda finishes the omelette, she pulls two plates out of one of the overhead cupboards and begins plating up. Your processing is so slow in the wake of the accident that it’s only when she lifts the plates and turns that the idea of offering help occurs to you.

“Sorry — can I do anything?” You stand up from the stool, and it creaks a little with your hasty motion.

Perhaps Wanda sees a certain desperation in your eyes, because she gives you a token task to do.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Could you bring the glasses over, please? I’ll come back and get the jug.” 

You nod, and wait until she’s walked past you before approaching the counter and gently stacking the two glasses Wanda took from the cupboard. Then you carry them across to the dining table with your remaining hand. Wanda passes you again on her way back, and smiles. You duck your head to hide flushed cheeks, and set the glasses down one at a time, beside each plate. Wanda turns the volume down on the radio, then fills the jug from under the tap and then carries it over, meeting your watchful eyes. She sets it down, then pulls out the chair beside you. You’re about to move to the other side of the table, sure you’ve managed to accidentally hover at her spot, but then she gestures with her hand for you to sit. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, as you obey without question. You slide in front of the chair, and lean down to pull it forward, but it moves slowly without your input. So you sit, and turn back to see Wanda smiling down at you. She briefly places a hand on your intact shoulder, then moves round the table, taking the seat opposite you. 

A warm, cosy feeling settles in your stomach. You feel a little exposed, with her facing you, but her kindness is chipping away at your discomfort and softening your demeanour. Wanda picks up her fork and flicks her eyes towards your plate meaningfully, so you lift yours too, and begin to eat.

It’s a little awkward, only having one hand, but luckily the omelette isn’t too difficult to cut with the side of your fork. The two of you eat in peaceful tandem, and you’re surprised by the ease of the silence, the lack of pressure to speak. It’s appreciated, because you can’t think of anything to say right now, and your brain probably wouldn’t comply if you were obliged to answer any questions.

The first interruption of the meal comes from the stairs, a loud and insistent meow which makes you jump. You turn to see a small white cat approaching the table with slightly skittish steps as it scopes out the two human bodies at the table.

“Oh, silly me,” Wanda chuckles. “I’m sorry Y/N, I forgot to tell you… Meet Mayakovsky. Or, Myau-kovsky, as Nat calls him. Because he meows so much.”

Mayakovsky stops a few steps from the table, tail flicking and eyes watching you intently. You glance at Wanda for permission, and she smiles. So, very slowly, you crouch down on the floor, and extend your left arm, hand in a fist except for your index finger, which you stretch out for a greeting.

Mayakovsky’s tail settles into an upright curl, and you wait patiently, trying not to move or stare at him too intensely. Soon, your patience is rewarded by his approach, cautious at first, but then confident as he begins to trust you. He boops his nose against your finger, then goes round to his right, rubbing his cheek against your fist and sliding along your outstretched arm. Your face lights up at his acceptance, and as he circles behind you, tail wrapping round your legs as he goes, you slowly turn your head to Wanda and grin happily. 

“Well, he’s taken to you rather quickly, sweetheart,” she says, laughing lightly. 

When Mayakovsky comes back around to your front, you slowly sit down on the floorboards, and offer your hand again. When he rubs his head against you, you turn it into a testing stroke, and you hear and feel him purring against you. 

“You’re very handsome,” you whisper to him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“He is very handsome,” Wanda agrees, “but he’s also a bit of a liability.”

“Really?” you ask, wondering what sort of antics he gets up to.

“He’s deaf, but also not very coordinated, so he often falls off things when he gets a fright. If you need to get his attention or let him know you’re there, it’s best to step heavily on the floor so he can feel the vibrations.”

You nod, and look back at Mayakovsky, who’s nudging you to give him more pets. His whiskers are tickling against you, making you giggle. You stroke him a while longer, until he gets bored, or remembers what he came in for. He trots over to Wanda, and meows loudly again, like he doesn’t realise how loud he’s being. Which, you suppose, he can’t.

“OK, OK, I’ll get you something,” Wanda tells him, standing up. You return to your seat at the table and watch as she goes into the kitchen and takes a bag of cat food from a cupboard near the door. Then she pours a small amount into a bowl, partially hidden under a shelf, which might be why you missed it when she showed you around. Once the bag is away and Mayakovsky’s face is buried in the bowl, she opens the balcony door a little, letting in a welcome breeze.

“Nat thinks I spoil him too much,” Wanda sighs, coming back to you and leaving Mayakovsky to eat. “But I can’t help it, he’s just too cute.”

“He is,” you agree, taking another bite of your omelette. “How long have you had him?”

“Not long; I adopted him less than a year ago. Nat wasn’t happy at first,” Wanda laughs. “But then, it was a surprise for her — I adopted him the day I found out about him, and didn’t have a chance to warn her. It took her a while, but I think they’re quite fond of each other now, though neither of them will admit it.”

You grin, but inside you’re beginning to feel a little worried about meeting Natasha. You can’t help but feel that you, like Mayakovsky, are a surprise arrival. And you’re certainly nowhere near as cute as him, which must have helped ease the blow. 

Mayakovsky finishes his food, and trots out the slight opening of the door to the balcony. Wanda explains that there’s a cat flap downstairs too, so he can get out even if the door is closed. You finish your omelette and drink some more water, feeling the cold liquid dripping down your throat and quenching the thirst you hadn’t registered until now. 

Wanda stands to clear the table, and you help her stack the plates and carry everything through to the kitchen.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, as she loads the plates, cutlery and glasses into the dishwasher.

You shrug. “I’m okay. A bit sore though.”

“Of course, sweetheart” she nods, then glances at her watch. “You can have some more painkillers in an hour.”

Your head tilts in question, wondering how she knows this. Wanda huffs out a half-laugh, and smiles at your confusion.

“The doctor who gave us your medication, darling. She said you could take it every six hours, but we should count from the drugs you were given in the ambulance around nine this morning.”

“Oh,” you say, realising you remember none of this, despite your attempts to appear engaged in the hospital. Maybe the concussion is affecting you more than you think.

“It’s okay honey, I can keep track for you until you’re feeling a bit better.” Wanda reaches over and squeezes your hand. “I can’t imagine how confusing all of this must be for you, but you’re doing just fine, alright?”

There’s a tensing, twisting feeling in your chest; you feel so comfortable and self-conscious at the same time, and you don’t know how that can be.

“Now, what would you like to do this afternoon? I wondered about watching a film downstairs, to let your body rest a bit. What do you think?”

You shrug, then nod very slightly. You don’t have any other ideas, and a movie sounds nice. Internally, you wonder if she will join you. You hope that she will join you. 

“Alright,” she says, closing the dishwasher. “Let’s go down, then.”

You scoot out of the way to let her lead, still not confident enough to initiate anything. She smiles at you ask she passes, and looks over her shoulder to watch you tiptoeing behind her. When you reach the stairs, you’re able to use the banister on the left side to reassure yourself on your descent. You still feel off-balance with your right arm strapped tightly against your torso, and as the painkillers begin to wane inside your body, the bruising impact of the crash is beginning to emerge in your legs too. Wanda watches you the whole way down, glancing back and pausing when you slow.

“That’s it honey,” she encourages you softly. “Take it slow.” 

When you reach the bottom, she grants you a quiet “good job”, and you bite your lip in an attempt to restrain the blushing.

Wanda leads you to their living room space, sitting down on the sofa and patting the cushion beside her. You sidle behind the coffee table and perch down slowly, lowering yourself with your good arm on the sofa and leaving an appropriate gap between you. Sinking in to the sofa and surrounded by cushions, your jeans suddenly feel more restrictive and uncomfortable on your body. The denim grating against grazed skin, digging in to your tummy as you sit. You begin to regret leaving them on and not changing when you could. You’ll just have to bear it, and hope that you can be distracted from the feeling.

“What would you like to watch?” Wanda asks, picking up the remote and turning the TV on. 

You shrug. It’s silly, and a little rude maybe, so you force yourself to find the words. “Don’t know.” Still, it feels insufficient. “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to think…”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she reassures you, interrupting your babbling explanation. “Let me think for you. Just let me know your thoughts if and when you can.” 

You nod, with a small smile of relief. It’s a welcome reprieve, to be given the opportunity to rest. Leaning back against the cushion, you feel your muscles relax, making you realise how much tension you’ve been holding in them for hours. Wanda watches you, and smiles at your contentment. 

You look up at the TV screen, your breath slowing. Wanda navigates to Netflix, and flicks through some options. You find it hard to keep up with the changing images, so you let your eyes wander a little, turning slowly to face her and gaze at her intent expression.

“Hmm,” she hums, thinking. “When I’m feeling under the weather I like to watch something relaxing, like a Studio Ghibli film.”

You perk up at that. “I love Studio Ghibli films!” you pipe up, eyes jumping back to the screen.

“Have you seen this one?” Wanda asks, highlighting Kiki’s Delivery Service. You frown, and shake your head. “It’s one of my favourites,” she tells you, and you turn back to her.

“Can we watch it then?” you ask, realising you’ve assumed she’ll stay, but hoping she intended to anyway.

“Of course, sweetheart. Let’s see if you enjoy it as much as I do.”

You smile, sinking deeper into the sofa, happy that she seems to be settling down to stay too. She starts playing it, and tucks her feet up so that her legs are crossed on the sofa beside you. Her knee is very close to you now; you can feel the heat of her body. But you force yourself to focus on the screen, which doesn’t turn out to be hard. You’re very quickly transfixed by the gorgeous animation, the gutsy young witch and her doleful cat companion, Jiji. You’re so engrossed that you gradually forget where you are, and who you’re with. In the scene when Jiji the cat sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry into the air, you giggle and pull your feet up onto the sofa, forgetting Wanda’s proximity. Your foot bumps into hers, and you’re brought back to earth at once, blushing at your clumsiness and the level to which you have become invested in the film. You tuck your feet underneath you a little tighter, so your crossed left foot can’t bump into her right. And you stare back at the screen, determined not to look at Wanda and show her your burning face.

After a while, Wanda puts her feet down on the floor and shuffles to the edge of the sofa. 

“I’m just going to get your meds, sweetheart,” she whispers in explanation. “I don’t want you to leave it too late and get more sore.”

You blink at her, thoughts still occupied by the film. As she stands, your brain finally catches up.

“Thank you,” your murmur, and she gives you a little smile before passing in front of the coffee table and returning to the stairs.

In her absence, you shuffle back into the left corner of the sofa so that you can rest you legs out without intruding into Wanda’s spot. It’s a little uncomfortable though, because you need to stay at a certain angle to avoid pressing your bad side into the sofa.

When Wanda returns, she is carrying a glass of water in one hand and the pill bottle in the other. She sees your shifted position, and frowns briefly. 

“Honey, switch over to my side,” she directs you gently. “It looks uncomfortable, having your shoulder against the cushions.”

Because she’s phrased it as an instruction, rather than a question, you feel obliged to obey without offering an initial polite refusal. You swing your legs to stand, and sidle between the coffee table and the sofa to sit in the opposite corner instead. Indeed, when you sit down it is a lot more comfortable. With your right arm facing out you can lean back fully, and relax your core muscles. Plus, there’s still the hint of warmth on the cushion, the ghost of her body heat left behind.

Wanda crouches down beside you, and holds out the glass of water. You have to sit up again a little bit, afraid of spilling, before taking it in your left hand. Then she opens the pill bottle, pressing and twisting with both hands to undo the seal and overcome the child-lock. She shakes one pill out into her hand, then twists the lid back on with the tips of her fingers and places the bottle onto the table.

“Ah,” she says, realising at the same time as you that you now don’t have a hand to take the pill with. A wild, imagined image of her placing it on your tongue leaps to the forefront of your imagination, and you’re suddenly gripped by the terror that she can somehow see it, read it on your rubescent face. You hand back the glass, averting your gaze, and let her swap it for the small white pill instead. You open your mouth just a little to let it in, then take back the glass and wash it away with the water. It gets a little caught in your throat, and you pull a face without meaning too, grimacing as you try to flush it down with more water. Finally, it relents its grip and disappears down the pipe.

Wanda takes the glass back from you in her right hand, and simultaneously brushes your hair behind your ear with her left, making you catch your breath at her soft, whispering touch.

“Hopefully this will help your pain a bit,” she says, frowning at you sympathetically. You lean back again, looking into her grey-blue eyes, blinking stupidly. Then you nod, because she doesn’t seem to be moving, and you’re not sure if you should be doing or saying something. She smiles at this, and shuffles in front of you to sit on the other side of the sofa, where she’ll surely also feel the warmth of your body beneath her. She’s also chosen to sit right beside your feet, and you can almost feel the charged space between your toes and her thighs. 

“Do you want me to go back a bit?” she asks, gesturing to the screen when you look back at her in confusion.

You shake your head. “It’s okay,” you say quietly. She smiles, nods, and turns back to watch the film. And you do the same, tension evaporating as you focus on the story again, letting the music lull you. You’re so comfy, and the movie is so calm and comforting with its soft colours and gentle music. It gets a little blurry and harder to see, but you don’t really notice, and you definitely don’t mind. Slowly, your eyes flicker and begin to close, as you drift off to sleep.

When you wake, you find a soft blanket draped over your body. Turning to face the screen, you see it has been turned off. Wanda is sitting at the far end of the sofa, tucked into the opposite corner, legs crossed and hands rhythmically knitting between them. She glances up, and her face breaks into a smile.

“Hey, sweetheart. Good sleep?”

You have to think a moment, still catching up to where you are and what has happened. Finally, you nod. 

“How long was I out for?” you ask quietly.

“Just over an hour,” Wanda tells you, her voice gentle, like she’s trying not to startle you so soon after waking. She leans down and places her knitting on the shelf beneath the coffee table. “I was just thinking I should wake you up soon actually. Nat should be home from work shortly, and I’d better start making us some dinner.”

You sit up, eager not to hold her back from her daily routine. The blanket falls away from you a little, reminding you that she must have tucked it in around you while you were sleeping. The thought makes you feel a lightheaded, giddy kind of joy. But then you realise that this fuzzy, cosy state you are in is not how you want to be when you’re introduced to Natasha, who sounds capable and serious and discerning.

“Is it okay if I go upstairs and get changed? You ask, feeling there is finally enough incentive to justify the inevitable pain of removing your scuffed clothes. 

“Of course, darling. Do you want any help?”

“No thanks,” you say hastily, terrified at the notion of her seeing your body when you’re trying so hard to contain (and deny) all your haphazard emotions. “I appreciate the offer, but really, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, fixing you with a look that makes you feel like you’re being x-rayed. “It might be tricky with your sling, honey. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise,” you assure her, trying to sound confident, despite fully agreeing that yes, it will be tricky.

“Okay,” she relents. “But I’d prefer to wait outside your room, and then you can call me if you get stuck, alright?”

You nod, biting your lip as you consider the premise, imagining getting stuck halfway through changing and having to desperately call for aid in such a compromising position. The thought makes you shudder. 

You peel back the blanket, attempting to fold it but hardly managing with one hand. Wanda smiles at you though, so you think it will do. 

The two of you walk up the stairs together, climbing the three flights to your — no, the guest — bedroom. Once there, you take a deep breath, summoning all your resolve to complete this task. Wanda waits, as promised, outside, and you close the door over most of the way behind you. 

It’s an almighty ordeal: even just shimmying out of your jeans and pulling on a loose pair of joggers feels like a marathon effort, and involves a lot more painful leaning than you expected. With your lower half sorted, you immediately realise how stupid you were to assume you could manage any of the next part by yourself. It dawns on you just how dependent you are now, at least until your collarbone heals enough to move your arm without excruciation. Throwing caution to the wind, you attempt to undo the sling, breathing heavily in wheezing pants of pain. But then you are stuck, crying out as the weight of your arm is released and you are forced to tense it in position, the energy rippling through your bones. 

“Y/N, honey, can I come in?” Wanda asks, sounding desperate. 

You can’t reply verbally, you’re expending all your effort on trying not to scream. But the door opens anyway, and she’s rushing to you, hushing you gently, hands taking over with reassuring efficiency. You close your eyes as she supports you, checks for your consent. When she asks what you want to change into you open your eyes just enough to gesture at the baggy t-shirt you laid out on the bed. You nod pathetically whenever she asks if she can proceed, desperate just to get it over with, no longer worried about your dignity since it’s already gone, deserted from your body along with your tears.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want to be too forward, and you can absolutely say no if you’re not comfortable, but do you maybe want me to take your bra off? I just wonder if it’s adding pressure to your collarbone…” Wanda asks, cautious and gentle.

You really think about this. It occurs to you that it will have to come off at some point tonight, and maybe it’s better if you get it all out of the way now, rather than having to rehash this undignified sequence again later today.

“Um, w-would you?” you ask, very quietly. “It’s just, it is kind of uncomfortable, and I don’t… I can’t…” You tail off, but she is quick to reassure you.

“Of course I can, sweetheart. This must all feel so awkward, hm? But it’s okay. I’m happy to help, you just need to let me know if you want me to stop at any point.”

“Okay,” you whisper, and duck your eyes down again. 

It’s embarrassing, yes, but Wanda is very careful and respectful as she helps you undress. She focussed her attention entirely on keeping you right arm at the least-worst angle, and averts her gaze expertly from the source of your self-consciousness. Slowly, so as not to jar you, she slips the t-shirt through your sore arm and then over your head, letting you contort your left arm through the sleeve yourself. Then she gently reassembles the sling on your body, making sure it’s sitting right and the fabric of your t-shirt is smoothed out underneath.

“There,” she whispers, “all done.”

You breathe out a deep, relieved breath, and cautiously look up into her eyes.

“Thank you,” you tell her, really focussing on holding her gaze, since you are desperate to communicate the full extent of your gratitude. Your collarbone aches something rotten after all the contortion of changing, but you feel infinitely more comfortable now that you’re out of the clothes your body was violated in.

“You’re so welcome,” Wanda assures you, placing a hand on your head and smoothing down your hair in a light stroke. “Now, I’m going to go downstairs and start cooking. Do you want to join me, or would you like some time to yourself before dinner?”

Her touch is like a drug, one that leaves you desperately wanting more. You feel a tugging sensation inside you, one that yearns to stay near and languish in wait for more of that feeling, of her fingers against your skin, of her soft lips smiling nearby.

“Can I come with you, please?”

She smiles, and the small glint of her white teeth between her lips is like the glint of heaven’s gates breaking through the clouds. 

“Of course, sweetheart. Such good manners,” she hums approvingly. You blush, and take her hand automatically, which you think she was holding out for you, but now you’re not sure. She doesn’t let you doubt though, because she squeezes your hand gently in hers, like she wanted it all along, even if she didn’t.

Back in the kitchen, you offer to help but Wanda distracts you with a recipe book, somehow convincing you to flick through and find something to bake tomorrow, and making you forget you ever asked to assist her. You’re gazing avidly at a photo of some expertly iced cupcakes when you hear a door opening in the distance, and turn around with a hint of trepidation. 

Through the open-plan level, past the table and the armchairs, you can see a woman has entered the main door, and is putting her shoes away.

“Hello, my love,” Wanda calls out. “We’re in the kitchen.”

Your body cools at once in anticipation of meeting Natasha. Does she even know you’re here? Has Wanda told her to expect you?

Natasha approaches, her gait confident and casual. She’s maybe slightly shorter than Wanda, and her body is more lean. You can see the muscles in her arms as she walks, and you notice her posture is straight and strong. When she nears, you observe her face. She has dyed red hair, glossy and clean in a tight french-braid at the back. She’s also beautiful, in a striking, slightly intimidating way. She fixes you with an inquisitive stare, and you again have the feeling that you’re being x-rayed, though this time, it feels a little less friendly.

“Nat, did you get my message?” Wanda asks, walking over to her and giving a chaste kiss in greeting. Natasha reciprocates, but quickly returns her gaze to you, frowning slightly as she answers her wife.

“Only just,” she says shortly.

“Well,” Wanda smiles between you and her wife. “Nat, this is Y/N.”

“Natasha,” she says, nodding her head to you. And you’re caught between thinking that she’s introducing herself, versus instructing you to call her by her full name.

“It’s nice to meet you, Natasha,” you say, but it comes out in a little squeak which rather diminishes the formal impression your were going for.

Natasha gives you a very brief smile, then takes a breath in and looks to Wanda.

“Right, I’m going to take a shower, if that’s okay. When will dinner be?”

“No problem, my love. It should be ready in fifteen,” Wanda tells her, turning slightly so you can no longer see her expression, only the slight cocking of her head from the back. You think Natasha might give a small nod of her head, but it might have been a meaningless movement. Then she gives Wanda a quick kiss, and departs upstairs. 

You watch her go, feeling a little crestfallen, and mentally chastising yourself for letting it get to you.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. Maybe she’s had a bad day. And besides, she’s entitled to feel a little taken aback by you, you’ve essentially gatecrashed their lives.

“Don’t worry about Nat, sweetheart,” Wands tells you quietly. “She… Well, it takes her a while to warm up to people. It’s not personal, okay?”

You look up at Wanda’s face, furrowed with concern like she yearns to make sure that you aren’t taking her wife’s behaviour to heart. Her words are a bit reassuring, though they don’t quite go all the way to assuaging the worry that you’re not wanted. But you nod, forcing a smile, because somehow it pains you more to see Wanda worried, and you desperately want to be a good guest for her, since she’s going to all this trouble to help you. So you try to reassure her in a casual manner.

“It’s okay — I hadn’t really noticed it anyway,” you say. It’s a lie, and perhaps an obvious one, judging by the way Wanda’s lips curl into a somewhat pitiful smile. But you don’t pay it much mind; your focus is stolen by her hand reaching out and taking hold of your left hand. She clasps your fingers from below and wraps her thumb on top to draw light circles on the back of your hand, watching as your body reacts unconsciously, eyes fluttering in hazy delight.

“Just give her some time,” Wanda hums, her words echoing in your brain like a mantra. “Soon she’ll be as taken with you as Mayakovsky and I are.”

You blush, and smile to yourself, looking at your lap as she squeezes your hand and lets you go. She returns to her cooking, and you turn back to look at the recipe book. But you’re not reading or looking at the pictures at all. None of the pages turn, as you’re engulfed by the giddy feeling that maybe, just maybe, you are wanted after all.

Eventually, Wanda pulls you out of your haze and asks you sweetly if you can set the table. You nod quickly, and almost fall off the stool with your eagerness. She chuckles and catches you with an arm at your waist.

“Careful, honey,” she laughs, and you grin bashfully in return. 

You set the table in a slow, laboured manner, since you only have one arm to carry things, and Wanda gives you a light warning not to stack things when she sees you attempting to balance three plates in one hand. So you go one item at a time, trying to get the right balance between speed and stability. Natasha appears as you’re finishing, her hair loose and damp on her shoulders, watching you as she attempts to dry it with a towel. You avoid her gaze, feeling uncomfortable at being perceived so intensely by her. You wonder what Wanda told her in the message; you wonder what she thinks of you. 

When Wanda calls for you both to take a seat, you wait for Natasha to sit first, scared of taking her place and causing a greater rift between you. She looks at you for a moment from her seated position, observing your body swaying slightly on the spot in indecision, before she pulls out the chair beside her. You bite your lip, and force yourself to smile at her, before travelling round the other side of the table and sitting down. 

“You look a bit rough,” Natasha says bluntly. “What happened?”

“I, um, don’t really remember,” you say, in an awkward, stilted manner. “Wanda says I was hit by a truck at the intersection.”

Wanda carries over a big pan, filled with the sweet-smelling apricot and chickpea tagine she told you she was making. 

“She was, Nat; it was awful,” Wanda explains, brow furrowing sympathetically at you as she relates the story. “It hit her from the side; I was right behind her, so she was flung onto my bonnet. I only just stopped in time — she could have been crushed otherwise.”

“Broken collarbone?” Natasha asks you, and you blink in surprise.

“Yes,” you respond, surprised by her quick and accurate diagnosis. “H-how did you know?”

Natasha shrugged. “Broke mine a few years ago. It really sucks, I’m sorry.”

You give her a small, grateful smile, which has to double up for two kindnesses when she takes your plate for you, serves you a portion, and places it down again.

“Thanks,” you murmur. She just nods simply, and focusses on serving herself. 

Wanda asks some general questions about Natasha’s work day, and Natasha offers some vague answers in return. You’re not really listening though, you still feel a bit groggy from the pain and the meds and the sleep. Plus, you’re concentrating really hard on eating your tagine without spilling it on you.

The quiet sounds of chewing and light scraping of cutlery against plates is disrupted by a loud meowing from the door. Mayakovsky strides in, and you watch as he approaches Natasha’s chair, then opens his mouth to release a black, eight-legged mass which wriggles as it falls to the floor.

You and Wanda both jump in surprise, but Natasha just laughs and rolls her eyes.

“Of course you would save this for me, malen'kiy negodnik,” she says with a dramatic sigh.And she confidently scoops up the spider in her hands, nimbly avoiding Mayakovsky’s desperate swipes and standing up with her hands cupped around his prey. You watch as she walks to the balcony door, opening it wider with her elbow, then steps outside and releases the spider into one of the plant pots. Mayakovsky stalks behind her, but then scarpers down the steps, abandoning his prey in search of something better. 

Natasha comes back in, closes the door behind her with one of her toned arms, and walks to the sink to wash her hands. 

“What would you do without me, ladies?” she calls out cockily.

And, hearing her husky voice and watching her self-assured movements, you realise with a jolt to your stomach that you may now have more than one crush to contend with.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the introductions of Natasha and Mayakovsky. Here is a photo of the cat that inspired him (the real version belongs to my friends; this beautiful boy is also deaf and he has a crooked tail so he's not very coordinated. He is blessed with pretty privilege, however). ♡

[xxgoldie]

for your event: can I request seth and q, p, z please? tysm!!

i've been on such a seth kick recently for some reason so i'm taking any excuse to write for him main event page - event masterlist

P: PDA - do they like PDA? how do they react to it from you? When it comes to more innocent, basic PDA, Seth is all for it. Hand holding, hugs, light kisses, compliments and petnames, it's all stuff that makes him really happy whether you're in private or in public. He likes when people can tell at a glance that the two of you are together, and besides, he's such an earnest and straight-forward guy - he's not trying to put on a persona to anyone, he loves you a lot and isn't going to deny himself the pleasure of your affection. But with every step past the basics, he gets even more flustered. He won't ever stop you (unless you catch him on patrol and you're feeling mischievous) because he definitely enjoys it, but he's blushing like an idiot and completely forgets what he was saying. Kiss him with tongue in public, or heaven forbid in front of his coworkers, he becomes a puddle of a man; can't help but melt into the kiss but the fact you're in public is in the back of his mind so he's bright red when you pull away, tries to start like twenty sentences at once but just gets out some garbled sound, tries to give you an annoyed look but he just ends up looking lovesick and pleading (which is exactly how he feels, he could never get annoyed at you, especially not within thirty seconds of your lips on his)

Q: Quirk - what's a little oddity / beige flag they have in relationships? When the two of you are hanging out around the house, Seth has a tendency to follow you around. It'll basically always happen when you're having a conversation, where you can walk around and he'll follow you while talking, but a lot of the time it'll be just when the two of you are just sitting together doing your own separate thing and you get up to do something. He just has an instinct to be where you are, even if he's still scrolling on his phone while doing it. It's cute most of the time, but sometimes you'll need the toilet and he'll trail after you, barely paying attention until you stop and stare at him until he snaps out of it and realises that he's standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Then he'll get out of the way and let you pee in peace.

Z: Zzzzzzz - how do they sleep with you? what's it like to share a bed with them? Seth sleeps pretty peacefully, but also pretty lightly. Between his job keeping him aware of his surroundings and being a cat Thiren, a proper deep sleep is quite rare for him. He sleeps deeper with you, though, the comfort (both physical and psychological) of having you beside him lulls him into full relaxation. However, if you move around a lot in your sleep, he will likely at least partially wake up from it - though he is one of those lucky sods that can fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, so as soon as you're settled and comfortable again he'll doze back off like nothing happened. When it comes to sleeping positions he's basically happy as long as he's holding you, but if he had to choose, it'd be when you're facing each other, legs intertwined and his face nuzzled into your hair; the smell of your shampoo and your soft breath on his collarbone being the first and last thing he experiences every day makes him smile immensely, to the point it's not uncommon for you to wake up to him almost grinning in his sleep.

[armandisdaddy]

Arrogance (Modern Au!)

(Daemon Targaryen x Fem Reader)

(Content/ Warning: 18 +, Age-gap, cheating, angst, swearing, violence, avoidance, p in v penetration, sexual innuendos, cat and mouse.)

(Summary: After finding out your boyfriend and best friend have been screwing behind your back you find comfort in the one person you cannot stand…there won’t be any sex in this chapter. But it’s coming…)

Chapter One

Today was you and your boyfriend Aemond’s third anniversary. You enjoyed the three years you spent with him and even the thoughts of marriage and children bounced around your mind. Things weren’t perfect but beyond everything you were still “happy”. Today your best friend Alys was throwing a party in your honor. You were getting ready deciding on a dark green dress that hugged you just right and stopped just above you knees and two slits that came up either side. You looked amazing and you knew your man was going to love seeing you in it. You both showed up together looking like the perfect couple everything was going smoothly as everyone clapped or the both of you and your best friend was there to greet you. She gave you both a hug. “Oh my god’s y/n…you look amazing.” She gushed over you as she past you a drink.

The night was perfect and you and Aemond danced the night away along with a few of your other friends. You had a few drinks and the liquor was starting to set in when you notice your best friend and your boyfriend were no where to be found. You shrugged it off not thinking about it too much and then you realized you had to pee. Stumbling into the bathroom you heard a couple enjoying themselves in the stall next to yours and for a moment you cheered them on until you recognized the man’s voice that was echoing off the walls. You’re heart started to pound and your head was spinning so you leaned over to see the shoes that were planted on the floor it was Aemond’s dress shoes and Alys’s dress pooled on the floor. Being as drunk as you are you gasped and finally your presence was noticed. “Oh fuck…y/n..” Aemond said and you quickly got the fuck out of there. Running and sobbing Aemond was fixing himself tailing after you and so was Alys. Everyone saw it all and as you can suspect the party was over you were in your car too drunk to move it but you sobbed with your head pressed against the steering wheel. Aemond and Alys had been begging you to let them in so they could gaslight you into thinking you imagined what you heard and saw but after the first three attempts didn’t work they started going at each other yelling and cursing.

Your eyes were hot from all of the crying and your head pounded profusely from the pressure. You noticed that it finally got quiet they had decided to leave. “Thank the seven.” But you were yet again disturbed by a knock on your car window. This time it wasn’t Aemond or Alys it was his uncle Daemon. You were surprised to see him of all people at your car checking on you. He made it quite clear the first time he met you that he wasn’t too fond of you and after that you kept your distance. You let your window down a bit. “What do you want?” He wasn’t he usual arrogant self. His eyes were soft while he looked at you and finally he spoke. “Do you need a lift? You’re too drunk to drive.” You wanted him to say something snarky so you could come back with some witty comeback but he didn’t. “Yeah…I guess I do..” Stepping out you left the keys to Aemond’s porche inside it It didn’t matter at this point if someone stole it good for them you thought. “So where do you want to go?” He asked and you started to cry again realizing you couldn’t go back to the apartment you shared with Aemond and you could even go to your best friend’s place. “Hey hey…look you can come to my house I have a room you can sleep in yeah? Does that sound good?” You nodded still sniffling softly…, “Why are you helping me? I thought you didn’t like me..” He sighed and shrugged the question off, “Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s just get you somewhere warm.”

Pulling up to his house you had never seen it before but it was goregous…and of course it was he’s a Targaryen. He was holding your heels for you as you walked in and quickly led you to the room you’d be sleeping in. “There is a bathroom in this room if you wish to take a shower or bath.” His eyes were wandering a bit…You did look amazing in that dress… showing off just the right amount of skin… he shook himself from his thought. “If you need a change of clothes I can get you one of my shirts and some sweats.” You nodded softly and took down your hair. He left for a moment and came back in with your clothes for the night. “Daemon…can you help me unzip my dress?” He nodded and you could feel the warmth of his hands on your back. Slowly sliding down your spin as he unzipped the dress stopping just above your ass. He cleared his throat and left soon after. You took a quick shower washing away everything away. You cried in the shower and even in the bed not getting a wink of sleep. By the time you finally passed out Daemon was waking you up with breakfast. “Come on sunshine I’ve got pancakes waiting in the kitchen for you.” You were groggy and irritated; your head was stilling pounding as if someone was tap dancing on your head. Daemon smiled seeing you in your natural element passing you your plate. You weren’t in the mood to eat but he stared you down and didn’t touch his food until you took a few bites.

“Could you possibly find your own place in a few days? I’ll be happy to help you get your things today and you can keep them here until you do.” You sighed and took a sip of your coffee he had ready for you., “No…I just finished college…and needed to start looking for a job…Aemond handled everything.” He hummed drinking his coffee and finishing his plate. “Alright, well I needed a new assistant anyway so you will be working for me. You will atleast need a month to get on your feet and be on your way yes?” You were still very confused. “I mean thanks for the job but why are you helping me…remember you said you thought I was a cunt…” He chuckled remembering the day he met you. “Yes I did say that well honestly I thought if I had ran you off you would be saved from the cunt…my nephew that is.” You scoffed, “Don’t you think “he’s not a good guy” would’ve been more affective.”, he smiled, “Yeah you’re right…I just wanted to be a bit of a dick I guess. Well, the weekend is over so your first day is tomorrow. Let’s go ahead and get your stuff.”

It took about 30 minutes for the two of you to get to what was soon to be your old apartment. You were met at the entrance with all of your stuff on the sidewalk with a small note it saying trash…mostly everything you had of any value was ruined. Now this pissed Daemon off and he went up there to have a small chat with his darling nephew. You were still trying to pick through things and fighting back tears when Daemon pulled you back to the car. “Daemon…my stuff.” He groaned in a low tone, “I will get you new stuff don’t worry about it. I’m cooking dinner and we’re getting drunk tonight.” He knew this was what you needed after all this so he made a five star dinner for the two of you and paired it with some fancy red wine. “Listen y/n I know you and I aren’t the best of friends right now and I know you’re going through a lot so I’m trying to give you a helping hand. From what I understand you are a very self sufficient young woman. My brother was considering giving you a position with our company if you didn’t know so I’m making the call to put you on our team also because I know it’s going to pissed Aemond off to have to see flaunting in and out of my office every day. So do not disappoint me, understand?” You nodded and without another word you toasted to a wonderful working relationship together. The food was delicious you had no idea Daemon had so many hidden talents…interesting. After dinner Daemon offered to watch movies with you and obliged. The wine was flowing and he had made popcorn. You two were watching comedies to keep your spirits up and you ended up leaning on his shoulder which he moved away from but he ended up letting you nuzzle into him. He enjoyed this more than he’d like to admit but quickly his mind was taken from such a sentimental moment when your hand started to wander and it all seemed so innocent your hand was laying on his thigh then it eased up his chest. His breath hitched within his chest and he looked over at you only to see you looking right at him he chuckled nervously and moved your hand. “If I’m being honest y/n I’d enjoy fucking you into oblivion…but I uhhh…believe it or not I don’t like taking advantage of women especially you. Maybe we should go to bed we have a long day tomorrow with it being your first day and all.”, you sigh softly a bit hurt by the rejection but he wasn’t wrong you were very vulnerable right now and you appreciated his honesty nonetheless. The next day was the beginning of an interesting work life with Daemon. You were awakened by him he was acting as your own personal alarm. It was five in the fucking morning. “Why the fuck are we up so early the office doesn’t open until nine?”, He laughed placing her work clothes on the bed neatly. “Well, I usually go for a morning run before work so I figured you’d go with me to keep your mind off of that cunt of an ex boyfriend of yours. Especially since you will be seeing him a lot more these days.”, your groggy face twisted into a grimace. “I forgot he works in the family business fuck…me…great. I’m not going on a run today. I’ll be getting ready and I’ll make breakfast for you, deal?”, you held your hand out and he hadn’t experienced your cooking yet, but he figured what could it hurt so he shook on it.

You took a well needed shower did a simple make up look with lashes, lip liner, and lip gloss. You made bacon, eggs, and waffles for Daemon and decided to look at the outfit he had left out. A rather sexy secretary ensemble for you to wear a white button up with half sleeves, a tight pencil skirt, black panty hose, and black heels. You didn’t know what to do with your hair so you pinned it up. By the time you were ready Daemon had already arrived and was in the shower. While you waited at the door he approached you with his white tresses slicked back and a suite tailored just for him. You were taken aback at how well he cleaned up and he was speechless seeing how well everything fit on you. This was going to be harder than he thought., “You look nice.” He said rather plainly trying to hide what he was really thinking. You nodded in thanks and now you both were out the door getting into his car. The ride wasn’t very long but by the time you pulled up it was about eight-thirty. “Perfect timing. I can show you around and get you in the loop before we get busy.”, He spoke in an elated tone.

You had only been in this place once, you had forgotten just how humongous it was inside. It was as if you were seeing it all over again. Your new boss was showing you around giving you a quick tour of where to find the coffee maker, printers, bathrooms, and now his office. Your desk was right next to the entrance of his office and you placed down your things. “So y/n I know this is all new to you so I won’t be to harsh, but I will be stern and mistakes can be made but not too many will be tolerated, understand?” You nodded quickly and he sent you off to get coffee. The doors were open and everyone was rolling in. And of course the first person you see was a familiar one. Aemond but he had a black eye and a busted lip…was this the result of the conversation his uncle had with him. You were certain it was and while you waited to use the keurig Aemond finally noticed you. He was at a loss for words seeing you here and looking as good as you did. “Y/n what are you doing here?” You decided to ignore him as if he wasn’t even there. You made Daemon’s coffee and went back to your wing of the building and Aemond followed until he realized who you were working for. He was fuming when he stormed into his office. “Why the fuck is she here? I know you don’t care for me that much, but after what just happened you want her to work here.”, Daemon spoke it a rather conniving tone, “Your father, my brother planned on extending a job offer to her and you knew this already. So you think just because you fucked up by screwing her bestfriend that we were going to leave her assed out after all she’s had to deal with being with you? You are highly mistaken, Aemond. If this is all you came to speak to me about you can get back to work. I need my assistant in here to help me with a few things.” Aemond huffed in irritation and left to go speak to Viserys.

Daemon called you into his office and you quickly entered. “You alright?”, He asked and you sighed holding back tears. “Listen it will get easier don’t worry about that bastard. If anything seeing him squirm should be fun.”, You smiled. “You know I never thought of it that way.”

to be continued…

They make quite the conniving pair don’t they..?

[crashing-a-jeep]

When I was 16 I volunteered at a cat shelter. There had been a fire nearby and so we got an influx of cats which made the job a bit more difficult for a while. I had to clean about twenty litter boxes, feed copious amounts of cats, and wipe down pee surfaces, the whole bit. And I did it for about 5 years. With this influx of cats came the cutest fluffiest little guy who the shelter called Bruce. He was a black on is face and back and tail, but his chin, chest, and feet were all white. When I came in to clean his little kennel he meowed and rubbed on my legs so I sat down and he jumped on my lap and I decided I needed this cat.

The only obstacle was my dad. We already had two dogs and two cats. So I spent weeks and weeks convincing him that I deserved this cat and that I would take care of him. My dad continued to say no over and over and over. I ended up leaving notes every day with his favorite candy, Peanut M&M's on top of them, in places he'd frequent in the house. His desk, the bathroom counter, the dining room table, on top of the TV stand, etc. After about a month, he gave in. I could have the cat.

I signed the adoption papers and caught the cat in the shelter and took him home. He was in my room only for a while to adjust him to the other cats. He slept with me and ate in my room. He even used the litter box in my room. I named him George, after George Harrison and I fucking loved this cat!

Eventually I had to let him roam the house and so I let him out and he began to get along with the other cats. Then, slowly, he didn't come in my room anymore. He didn't sit on my lap anymore. He didn't meow at me or even acknowledge my presence George the cat wanted nothing to do with me. And I had done so much for him!

But there was one person he loved in the house, and it was my dad. The only person in the house who didn't want him. This fucking cat I named after my favorite Beatle and worked so hard to convince my dad to adopt chose my DAD over ME. To this day.

I moved out and took my other childhood cat with me. George stayed behind and he sits on my dad's lap and he chills with my dad in his office and he does a bunch of shit with my dad. Every time I see this cat I'm just like 'Hey George, remember who got you here, you little fucker' and I pick him up and hold him like a baby just to spite him(he hates it) and then put him down so he can go live his royally good life as MY DAD'S CAT. And though he is named after George Harrison, everyone in my family calls him 'King George'. His namesake isn't even his namesake anymore.

I can't with this fucking cat. And I love him. But like helllooooo can't a girl name an animal after her favorite Beatle and have it become her best friend? Apparently NOT. Anyway hope you enjoyed my random story.

My dad's cat George is pictured below:

[fifis-cosmos]

Peaches and Musk

Minho x Jisung

Plot: No real plot… Minho smells Jisung’s heat during a concert and then they fuck.

Warnings: A/B/O, BxB, male on male, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, swearing, semi-public sex, nicknames (Hyung, daddy, baby, mutt, omega, alpha, jagi, slut), idol AU, Jisung rambles a lot, jerking off, almost sort of subspace, mention of heat, anal fingering, thigh grinding/riding (I think that’s everything?)

Author’s note: This is a satire post, sort of? It’s something my friends and I wrote a while ago as a joke. Inspired by my peach scented chapstick because it smells soooo good… Usually I won’t do BxB but I got bored and writing something with a more unusual topic is fun. Also! I think I may have a memory of reading something like this before? I don’t remember what it was, but if I got a bit close to somebody else’s idea, I’m not claiming it as mine. And one last thing… I had no idea how to end this… so apologies for the shitty finish.

Also, this is unedited, and not proofread.

Minho knows he must be mistaken.

That light, peachy smell can’t be his boyfriend, standing a few steps away, who is bobbing his head to the rhythm of the music while he walks around the stage, waving.

It has to be something else. A body product, maybe Jeongin’s sweet smelling shampoo, but that’s not really realistic, is it?

When he inhales more deeply, he catches the giveaway. That telltale hint of spice behind the sweet scent, almost like nutmeg.

He turns to Jisung, sharp features accentuated by the concert lights, scanning the body of the man before him. He’s playing with his microphone, picking at the tacky jewels that surround the circumference of it.

Minho’s eyes narrow into a cat-like expression, the sweat on his forehead trickling down his temple in a glittery streak. He takes another whiff of the air.

It’s him.

His fingers find the little gadget in his ear and pops it out, covering the mic with the palm of his hand while he approaches his boyfriend.

He has to be discreet. There are too many fans. Prying eyes that are too eager and attentive. Endless cameras to catch a slip-up.

He taps Jisung’s thigh gently, and leans in to talk in his ear.

“…Jisung. I can smell you,”

Jisung offers nothing but a skeptical glance.

“That’s stupid, Hyung,” The boy says, eyes getting wider, almost comically. “I shouldn’t be in heat yet,”

He waves his hand, dismissing Minho, and turns to give a charming, gummy smile to the crowds. Minho grabs his wrist and speaks again.

“I’m serious, Jagi,”

Jisung looks at him sideways and rolls his brown eyes. His expression is almost pouty. He holds up his hand.

Minho wastes no time pressing the sharp tip of his nose to the soft flesh on the inside of his wrist, where his scent gland is.

Immediately his nose fills with the fruity, sweet smell of peaches. It’s delectable, makes Jisung’s soft, mochi cheeks look edible. It makes everything about him look edible.

Minho has to smack his boyfriend’s wrist away before he does something stupid in front of all these people.

“It’s you,”

Jisung’s pretty boba eyes get all big and wide, and he covers his wrist, as if it will help anything at all.

In a moment of reaction and panic, he holds his microphone up to his mouth and speaks.

“STAY! STAY, I’m so sorry… but I really, really have to go pee,”

He turns off the mic and runs backstage, laughs from the crowd filling the auditorium.

Minho just hopes Jisung can get it sorted quickly.

Jisung stumbles into the dressing room, and Minho follows right after, locking the door. They both smell like sweat, covered in it from preforming, and the heat of the stage. The adrenaline lingers, as well.

As soon as the door is shut, Minho latches his lips onto Han’s, clawing into his hips and licking at his mouth recklessly.

“Can’t even wait until we get home,” He growls, biting down on the boy’s pouty lips. “So impatient, Jagi. Not even that patch can satiate you, can it?”

At the thought of the little sticker, Minho’s hands start searching his boyfriend’s body, as if he will be able to find it through his clothes. His hands land mindlessly on Jisung’s ass, kneading it while he kisses even deeper.

“I put it on my back…,” He mutters in a whiny tone, pulling away to cross his arms in front of his body so he can peel off the shirt obscuring his access.

Minho’s eyes scan his body, cute little tummy exposed by the rising hem. His thin waist, the shadow of hair growing up to his belly-button. He tries to pull the shirt off, but it catches on his chin, and his nose, popping off of his head and leaving his fluffy brown hair a mess.

His stretches his arms back and tries to reach the little paw-shaped patch between his shoulder blades, the exact thing that is preventing his body from releasing pheromones. His chest flexes, and Minho can’t help but stare at the rounded, honey-toned expanses of skin.

After watching him struggle for a bit too long, Minho grabs him by the hips and spins him around so his ass is facing him.

“Pathetic. Let me get it, Jagi,”

His fingers grip the edge of the little tab, and he tears it away from the skin, fine hairs getting caught in the sticky residue meant to last a whole day. As soon as it’s off, he leans over Jisung’s shoulder and grabs him by the waist, pulling him closer, mouthing hungrily at the scent glad that rests above the dip of his collarbone.

“Wanna smell you,”

He grumbles against the hot, flushed section of chest, lips wet and darkened from rough kisses earlier. The patch is still stuck to the pads of his fingers, and he tries to shake it off.

His runs his teeth over Jisung’s glad. That tasty, peachy smell returns, starting to flood the room. It makes his mouth water, his eyes roll back. It’s filling his senses. He moans and nips at the skin, trying to stimulate more of that delicious satisfaction.

The patch unsticks from Minho’s finger, and flitters to the ground, forgotten as soon as it left his body. He’s already moved on to better things by now, like sucking a nice mark into his boyfriend’s flesh.

“A-ah… Hyung… mm,” Jisung whimpers, eyes squeezed shut, grinding his ass against the crotch of Minho’s leather pants. “N-no marks… you know we’ll get in trouble,”

At the comment, Minho laves his tongue over the spot, and detaches with a pop. A string of saliva connects his lower lip to the reddened spot.

“You know I don’t care about that…”

He growls, licking over the skin and inhaling the sweet scent. Jisung is starting to catch onto a familiar musk, almost resembling a pine tree, wafting from his boyfriend. He lets a particularly slow drag roll against Minho’s hard dick.

Minho ruts back instinctually, making both of their sweaty bodies jolt. All he can think of is the way Jisung smells, the way he feels and sounds.

He wants to be inside of him. The thought of claiming his boyfriend during yet another heat makes his cock twitch.

He needs release.

His clipped nails dig into the plush skin of Jisung’s torso, and he ruts a few more times. All he wants to hear is those cute sounds his baby always makes for him.

Quick thrusts turning into grinding sooner rather than later, and Jisung is already feeling a bit foggy. He whines and pushes back, trying to get any kind of friction on his hole possible. His boxers are already soaked with slick, he just needs something inside.

“H-hyung- please~ please…,”

He whimpers without thought. Minho nuzzles his nose against the now-wet gland.

“My jagi wants something in his greedy hole? Fuck yes…” His voice pushes out when Jisung moans and rolls his hips once more, gravelly and deeper than usual. “So fucking good… Your Hyung knows you so fucking good, doesn’t he?”

His hips buck, causing some of the friction Jisung needed. Just when the younger boy thinks he’s getting what he wants, Minho let’s go of him, crescent shaped marks on his skin from his boyfriend’s blunt nails.

“Hyung?”

“Shut your mouth,”

Jisung gets shoved onto the sleek leather bench at the back of the room, where he starts to climb onto it eagerly, ready to present his ass.

Instead, he feels a study arm wrap around his waist and pull him up onto his knees. His back is to Minho, and he’s facing the wall.

“Minho, what are you-“

“I told you to shut you mouth. Stop talking before I decide to leave you here. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”

Minho asks, palming his erection steadily.

Jisung would hate that. His leaking cock, more than that, his hot, slicked up asshole that clenches around nothing, need attention. There’s so much arousal drooling out of him, that there’s a wet patch on his the rump of his pants.

Minho delivers a swift smack to that exact spot, the tips of his fingers grazing his boyfriends balls at the lowly aimed attack.

“I asked you a question,”

“Ah! Y-yes! Sorry Hyung… no… I wouldn’t like it… I’ll be good,”

He wiggles his hips, which Minho finds indescribably cute, in an irritating way.

“Don’t move,” He commands with authority.

Before Jisung registers the lowly spoken words, he feels a toned, leather-clad thigh slip between his own. It nudges them apart, and drags against his dick a little.

The only reaction he can muster is a moan, and the action of grinding down on the expanse of muscle. He’s stopped almost immediately.

“I said stay still,” Minho breathes out. He gives Han a little push, forcing him to lean on the back of the couch with his palms. “You’re lucky I feel generous tonight..,” Minho cages his body in, and puts a palm beside Han’s left.

His lips attach to the dewy, tanned skin again.

“I’m gonna jerk you off, baby… Jagi..,”

He groans and ruts his hips upwards again.

“Oh- fuck yes- please?”

Jisung’s words are slurred, tongue thick with desire. His mind is foggy with lust, and the waves of heat washing over him. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Minho’s wandering hand finds the bulge in his pants.

At just the first touch, he lets out a loud moan, and bucks his hip fowards.

Minho growls, something almost mistakable as a laugh. “Oh, you like that, don’t you, Jagi? Want me to touch your poor leaky little dick?”

“Yeah-! Hyung- Daddy- please… wan’ it…,”

“You’re filthy,” The whisper comes harsh against the shell of his flushed ear. Of course, it only gets him off more. Minho begins to unbutton the clasp of his jeans.

Even such slight friction has Jisung whining and canting his hips, trying to chase the feeling. Minho shucks the blue jeans down, and takes the soaked boxers along with them.

Before his focus even comes close to returning to Jisung’s dick, his eyes land on a certain spot. He runs a digit over the wetness leaking out of his boyfriends asshole, smirking at the amount of slick that gushes at such a small touch.

“Look at you… so desperate, Jagi. Tell me you want it,” He demands, slowly rubbing his rim with his thumb.

Jisung jolts and moans loudly. His hole throbs, and he pushes back, trying to rub his legs together.

“I wan’ it! Oh god, alpha, please- I want it so bad- touch me-”

Minho hooks his thumb into Jisung’s hole. The amount of slick makes it an easy task.

“I said tell me you want it, not beg. Slut,” He quips, wiggling his thumb softly. Jisung bucks his hips backwards, and tries to grind back. Minho grabs his hips.

“Dumb mutt” He snarls, other hand leaving the couch to mark a ring with his thumb and finger around the base of Jisung’s cock. He gives a quick stroke with the tiny ring, and settles back at the base. When the omega below him moans, he finds himself smiling. “That’s all you are, isn’t it? A dumb mutt? Stupid little omega begging for something in its slutty hole,”

Minho slaps Jisung’s dick, making it sway, and the younger moans and pushes back again.

“I bet you want my knot, don’t you?” He gives another slow stroke along the length of his boyfriend. Jisung nods frantically, bucking forwards. “Too bad. You get my thumb, and my hand to fuck into. That’s it. Now spit on it,”

Jisung pants and tilts his head down, trying to drool down onto his dick while Minho holds it up for him. Minho slips his hand up and palms over the pink tip, spreading the spit around while it leaks down his shaft, settling in his dark pubic hair.

“Ah! Ohmygod-,” Jisung try’s to buck forwards again, his balls dragging delectably over the leather covering Minho’s thigh. The alpha pulls his thumb out and slaps his ass.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stay fucking still?” He growls. His body pushes against the back of Jisung’s, and he crowds him flush against the back of the couch, body shadowing over him. He starts to stroke his omega’s cock steadily. “You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

“S’ good… too good,” Jisung whines, trying his hardest not to move so he can please his alpha.

“Too good,” Minho mocks in a high tone, repeating the boy’s breathy tone. He stops stroking and takes to running his fingers lightly up the underside of his cock. “I bet it is, isn’t it? Too good? You’re such a stupid little thing. Begging for my hands,”

He swaps to rubbing his fingers over Jisung’s slit. His cock jumps.

Minho latches his mouth onto his neck again, sucking gently before nipping at his skin. “Bounce on my thigh,” He demands, breath hot on the sweaty field of skin, shaking his leg that is wedged between Jisung’s as if to show him what exactly what to use.

It’s like a spell has been put over the younger as soon as those words grace his pinkened ears. He starts frantically grinding against the meaty appendage that rests below him, dragging his balls over the rough material. It hurts, but that just makes it better for him. At this point he’s been reduced to breathless moans.

Minho spits in his hand and lifts Jisung’s hips to smear it on the black leather pants, just to make the slide a bit easier. It wasn’t really all that needed, considering the mass amounts of slick pouring from the younger’s hole, dripping down his balls and making an embarrassing puddle.

“There it is… good omega,” He growls, bouncing his leg a little. He strips Jisung’s dick, the wet sounds downright sinful. With this much attention, the boy can’t last much longer.

“I-inside. Want something inside, please,” He begs in a shaky voice, grinding down just a bit harder.

“Inside? This isn’t enough for you?” He tightens his grip around his dick.

“Mm- please! Please, hyung,” His legs are shaking now, and his stomach is twitching with every breath. Minho ruts his hips against Jisung’s ass, and reaches forwards to rub his lip with his thumb. He’s delighted to find drool covering it.

“Oh… poor thing… what makes you deserve it?” His hand reaches down and collects slick, teasing the younger’s rim.

“Ah! I’ll be good! I’ll be so good, please, just put it in- please,”

Minho brings his thumb to his lips and smears slick over it.

“You’ll be good? I guess that’s a pretty good reason,” He teases and reaches down. The way his finger slides in with such ease. Even better, how the second one follows, and they curve up into his prostate, is exactly what he needed to send him tumbling over the edge of his orgasm.

He doesn’t notice how he shakes. Hot white ropes of cum shoot onto the back of the couch. He can’t hear anything, all he can sense is the feeling of his orgasm, the explosion in his gut and the tingling of his body.

When he finally opens his eyes, the fullness of his boyfriend’s fingers are gone, as well as the warmth of his thigh between his legs. But his boxers are handed to him.

“You’re giving me head on the ride to the hotel. If you do good enough, maybe I’ll knot you when we get back into our room,” Minho cocks his head to the cum splattered on the couch. “Clean that up, Jagi,”

He turns to leave, but before he does, he leans over Jisung’s shoulder and plants a gentle kiss on his sweaty cheek.

“You did well. I’ll go get some fresh clothes for you. I love you, Sungie”

“I love you too, Minho,”

[hotasfahrenheit]

flowers? in my vampire show? it's more likely than you think

(i mean there is a florist character so it's not THAT unlikely but i needed a title)

first off-

that's limonium, which is notoriously stinky, so my takeaway is that vampires are stinky and i'm not going to let anyone change my mind on that~

for the actual arrangement-

we've got three roses, surrounded by a bunch of what we call filler flowers- limonium, statice, and baby's breath.

roses are classic, everyone knows and loves roses. they usually represent things like love and romance, but they can also represent secrecy and mysticism. pink roses specifically tend to represent gratitude and admiration. i'm not gonna include a picture of roses, y'all know what they are.

what i'm referring to as limonium in this arrangement is actually specifically caspia, a delicate, cloudy variety of limonium that is associated with grace, perservereance, and transformation. it uh. well at my shop it's also known as "cat's-pee-ah" because it smells like cat pee to a lot of people. i don't think it smells quite like cat pee, but it does smell -terrible-. i made one of our newer girls smell it a few weeks ago and her response was an offended, betrayed look and a "WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME??!?!?" yelled across the room. (i just laughed in response, obviously)

it comes in white and light purple- we use it most often in the purple colour- and it's very pretty and fills space in nicely. but yeah it stinks, it's best to mix it into bouquets or arrangements that have a stronger scent, like putting it with stock flowers, lilies, etc. (picture borrowed from here!)

statice (pronounced just like status and i didn't realise that it was not the same word at first because english is just Like That so often) is actually a variety of limonium and made searching for info for this post just... so great and easy! hah. statice is very common in its very vibrant bright purple variety, but also comes in a variety of colours that i like much better honestly sorry not sorry

statice stands for fond memories, sympathy and success according to the info i could find that distinguished it from caspia limonium. it can look almost fake or papery in the more vibrant colours, and has a kind of dry seeming texture even when it's fresh. the stems are MUCH thicker than caspia and the flowers are bigger and more clumped together, so they're easy to tell apart. (purple statice picture from here, the colourful picture i had on my computer already and when i tried to backtrack search it, it's in use ALL OVER THE PLACE so i can't credit that one accurately)

then we come to the baby's breath. sigh. what can i say about baby's breath without going on a rant about how much most florists actually passionately hate baby's breath? it's terrible. it breaks constantly. it's difficult to pull apart bunches without making a mess. the flowers get nasty when they start to go bad. it also smells, tho not as badly as limonium. adding it into arrangements makes me feel like i'm ruining them. it's terrible! but people love it? people who don't have to deal with it the way that florists do! anyway my fun facts about baby's breath are that it looks like teeny tiny carnations because it's in the carnation family, and the scientific name is gypsophila because when it was named, it was growing in a region with a lot of gypsum rocks in Türkiye so they were like "wow this flower sure loves gypsum!" and there you go. it's supposed to represent undying love and romance so the undying thing works well for vampires I GUESS.

the nice thing with all of these filler flowers is that they dry pretty well and pretty easily. roses can also be dried, obviously, but dried roses alter pretty noticably from their fresh state, while dried statice especially will look pretty similar to fresh depending on the colour. the best way to dry any flowers is to hang them upside down in a warm, dry location- you can get better tips by searching for them on the internet, but that's the main thing. hanging something like roses upside down is especially important, as the heavy heads will bend the stems if they're left to dry while upright in a vase. once the stem is dry and the moisture has left the petals in the flower head, they can be arranged upright again without worrying about the stems bending anymore. if you want to dry limonium, statice, or baby's breath for use in a mixed dried flower arrangement, i would recommend separating and hanging stems individually instead of drying them bunched together, as pulling the dry flowers apart will increase the likelihood of knocking dried blossoms off of the stems.

anyway there you go, your periodic edition of flowers maybe having meaning in BL shows, from your friendly neighbourhood florist. you can check the mia talks about flower things tag below for the other posts i've made about flowers in dramas so far.

until next time! 🌸🌼🌹

[holylulusworld]

Flowers (5) - Honeysuckle

Summary: Honeysuckle flowers represent true happiness, romantic love, good fortune, and sweetness towards one another.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: angry Bucky, fluff, love confessions

Flowers (4) - Daisy

Flowers masterlist

For the next few days, you barely left your apartment. Bucky and you spent the time talking about all the things you never dared to bring up.

Your relationship, his feelings for you, and the woman almost ruining your relationship. Dolores. 

At first, you wanted to go ballistic and beat the shit out of that woman. Bucky had to hold you back and calm you. He promised over and over again that Dolores didn’t stand a chance.

You are the only woman he wants, and the one he needs. He confessed his love and sniffled when you confessed your feelings for him.

One week later you finally leave the apartment to grab a few things for your upcoming trip to your uncle’s cabin. You want to get out of the tower for a while to spend some well-needed alone time with Bucky.

“You look pretty today, doll,” he complimented while holding your hand in his gloved one. “I mean…uh—you always look pretty. But today, you glow.”

“Aw, someone wants to get laid,” you giggled and pecked his cheek. “I thought last night was enough to tame the python in your pants, Sergeant Barnes.”

“You know how I get when you are close,” he smirked. “I lose all control and need to get my hands on you, doll.”

“You’re insatiable,” you retorted, but mirrored his smirk. “Maybe after our shopping trip. We will take my car today.”

“No bike,” he sighed and looked at the list in your hands. “I bet I can store everything on my bike.”

“I bet you’ll lose half of the things we will need, and there is no space left for me,” you pointed out, sticking your tongue out.

“Fine, no bike today.”

“We should go to Maria first. I want to tell her that she can pair me up with you for missions again. And,” you cleared your throat, “to make sure she knows that we won’t work with that red-haired bitch.”

“Did I hear my name?” Natasha poked her head around the corner, one brow furrowed.

“Nope,” you grinned at the redhead. “There is only one red-haired bitch I hate. And that’s not you.”

She winked at you and chuckled. “So, you’re good? No more fighting or rom-com drama?” 

“Shut up,” you grinned at her. “We had the best reunion sex ever.” You narrowed your eyes the moment Dot stepped out of one of the offices. “We almost broke the bed, the couch, and the shower.”

“Do you want me to hate you?” Natasha sighed deeply. It’s been too long since she had animalistic and crazy sex. “You win. I’m jealous.”

“Sergeant Barnes,” Dolores cooed, acting like she didn’t lie to you to steal your boyfriend. “How have you been? We have missed you during training.”

“He had better things to do than listening to your lies,” you bit back, and gritted your teeth. 

She chuckled, still believing there was a chance Bucky would leave you for good and find solace in her arms. “I asked Sergeant Barnes, not you.”

“Careful,” Bucky’s features darkened, and her disrespectful tone. “You caused enough trouble. Don’t believe for one second I will forget that you lied to me.”

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about, Sergeant,” she tried to smile her way out of the situation. 

“I’m not the man I used to be,” Bucky let go of your hand for a moment to tower over Dolores. She shrank into herself. No one faces the former Winter Soldier and doesn’t pee their pants. “But don’t think for one second that I will let you get in between me and my girlfriend. Get it in your head,” he pointed his index finger at Dolores, “I only love her.”

He slung one arm around your shoulders and guided you away from Dolores and her boring looks. “Buck, I think you made her pee her pants.”

“Good.” He said. “She deserves that much and more.”

“What is that?” You pointed at the cat Bucky carried in his jacket. He wanted to grab more things for your trip, only to bring nothing but a small white furball home. “Bucky?”

“That punk kinda followed me,” he sheepishly said. “It began to snow, and I had to stop my bike. I got off my bike, to wait for the snowfall to stop and then,” he looked at the cat poking its head out of his jacket, “I heard this guy meow loudly.”

“Where did you find him?” You pat the cat’s head. “Bucky?” You looked him in the eyes. “You didn’t steal the cat, right?”

“What? No! Someone locked him in a box and threw it in a dumpster. I fished the box out and freed him,” Bucky pleadingly looked at you. “Can we keep him?”

You looked at the cat, and then at your smiling boyfriend, already knowing the answer. 

“Do you already have a name for him?” You laughed as Bucky nodded eagerly. “How’d you name the poor cat? I hope it’s not snowball.”

“Alpine,” he said while patting the cat’s head. “He’s a fighter. A survivor and…he’s white.” Bucky wouldn’t stop smiling. He allowed you to carefully take the cat out of his jacket but followed you hot on your heels to keep an eye on Alpine.

“We will need cat food, and toys, a bed, a toilet,” you hummed to yourself. “Maybe we can cancel the trip? We need to take care of him first.”

“You sure?” Bucky asked while watching you play with the cat on your shared bed. “I guess there is a new man in town, huh?”

“We should order all the things we will need for Alpine online.” You watched the cat curl into a ball on the bed. He was still shivering, but he meowed happily when Bucky sat down on the bed. 

“Hey punk,” Bucky patted the cat’s head, but his eyes were glued to you moving closer to sit next to him. “How do you feel?”

“We can ask a vet to check on him,” you put your hand on Bucky’s lightly squeezing it. “I guess we now have a kid, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Maybe we can work on putting on into you too?” He smirked at your shocked expression. “Or at least try? I like trying…”

The End...

Tags in reblog.

[redux-iterum]

Salute to a Brief, Precious Companion

I just came home from the vet. If you missed the notice on Friday, Rocky has been euthanized due to failing health. I'm a little bit of a mess right now, so apologies if this post isn't coherent or it's overly-emotional. I just feel I should pay my respects and tell you all Rocky's story. Be prepared. This is a long one.

This was Rocky. Nicknames included Wocky, Rocky-Pocky, Rockadocious, and Little Man. He was an incredibly sweet and incredibly skinny critter who somehow even Jupiter outsized. I only had him for 7 or 8 months, but what lovely months they were.

Rocky came to me from a horrible situation - someone who is technically part of the family (and do I dearly wish they weren't) is one of the worst pet owners I've ever seen in my life, and he regrettably had Rocky for over 10 years. That is, 10 years trapped in a single room with a connected bathroom where his rarely-cleaned litterbox (singular, shared with multiple cats) was located. He didn't have anything: no comfort, no entertainment, pellets that could barely pass for cat food, and no attention. This was supposedly to save him from a dog that had a habit of killing every small animal it came across, but once that dog died, as did Rocky's companions, he still wasn't allowed out of that room because the idiot didn't want cat fur all over his furniture. Mind you, his dishes in the pantries had dust all over them, if that tells you how he lives his life.

Anyway, a relative of his called me and begged me to take Rocky, being unable to stand his solitude and wails for affection any time she went to that house. I wasn't looking for another cat at the time, but I agreed, on the condition that the former owner pay for the initial vet visits and whatever treatments were needed. Rocky was very visibly unwell when I saw him - underweight, crooked-backed and smelling of sickness. I never had a high opinion of his owner in the first place, but as time went on and I saw the effects of Rocky's ailments and the consequences of him never seeing a vet in those 10 years... well. If murder was legal.

Rocky's first 2 weeks in my house were disastrous. He attacked Moses, Jupiter and Moonshine any time he saw them, had no idea that he wasn't allowed to just pee wherever he wanted, and was frightened and confused by toys. It took several months for him to understand the concept of batting a ball around for fun, and he never did fully get that sleeping on a soft pile of blankets is much nicer than a hard table. I was extremely close to seeking out another home for him, certain that this wasn't going to work and I had just ruined the energy of the house for my other poor cats.

But somehow, Rocky turned around! He realized the other cats weren't a threat to him (all three of them are excellent at handling tense situations with fellow felines, and they never struck back or hissed at him during his rampage), and started seeking them out for companionship. Of course, it had been a few years since he'd seen another living cat, and he'd kind of ruined his initial impression on them with his poor behavior, so it took a while for them to fully relax around him. He and Jupiter very quickly were forced to become friends as both of them wanted on my lap at all times and weren't willing to give up their seat to each other. They eventually sought each other out and would sleep together even without me being there.

Rocky practiced being friendly on Jupiter, including grooming him. Amusingly, Rocky didn't quite remember how to groom another cat, so he ended up licking the fur the wrong way and getting Jupiter all slobbery, like a dog had licked his head. Jupiter never minded, purring along and letting Rocky do his thing.

Moonshine was more hesitant to let Rocky sit on her or curl up by her, but Moonshine's never held a grudge in her life and conceded towards the latter third of our time with him.

Moses...

Well, y'all know Moses. He was just as grumpy with this other old man as he is with everyone else. Though interestingly, over this weekend, he was unusually kind to Rocky, and actively laid down next to him and let Rocky touch him.

In fact, everyone was extra nice this weekend. I suspect they knew something was up from my energy and mood. They were sticking close to me as well.

As Rocky got more comfortable in the house, he really showed his personality. He followed me around everywhere, couldn't force out a loud meow if his life depended on it, wanted on my lap at all times (making up for a decade of loneliness, I guess), and demonstrated a sweetness and cheerfulness that couldn't be beat. He was, by far, the best at taking medicine that I have ever experienced with a pet. He would swallow his pills with no struggle and allowed me to give him shots of vitamins without so much as a twitch. It's extra-impressive for how long he went without those things. Really, his only fault was that he would have accidents around the house - everything else about him was wonderful.

I knew he was a hospice case when I took him in. He was sick and old; he wasn't long for this world, whatever I did. I still feel like I failed him for only giving him half a year of a comfortable, happy life compared to the decade of misery he experienced. Everyone tells me that it's quality over quantity, and that he got to live a wonderful last bit, and I should be proud of that. I hear them. But my friends can attest that I've spent the last two weeks kicking a tantrum about how unfair it is that he didn't get more time with me. I won't pretend I'm the very best pet owner in the whole wide world, but god knows I'm at least better than his previous owner, and I provided everything I had, whatever it costed. I felt like I owed Rocky at least a year of joy and love, and he didn't even get that. It's not fair. It's just not fair.

It's amazing how attached you can get to an animal you know will die soon.

Rocky's ashes will be coming to me in a couple weeks. He'll join the rest of my pets on my desk, and that way he'll stay with me. I'm grateful that he got to fall asleep in my arms and that his pain and weakness is over. Wherever he is, he's comfortable.

I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you, Rocky. You deserved the world.