#I’ve been in this oven for tOO LONG

[somecartoonisttalkshere]

Kiddos and gimmicks

[candycryptids]

Nothing so stressful yet satisfying as finding a roach nest in your silverware drawer and eliminating it @~@

[exopelagic]

I am baking cake at midnight and it is going to kill me <3

[beloveds-embrace]

part 2 of baker!reader + do not ever ask me to write accents lmao i suck at those 💀😭 and a huge thank you to all the sweet and dessert suggestions! i couldn't add all of them, but oh my god did i love all of them and choosing between them was sooo hard (that's what she said). if your dessert didn't make it here im soo sorry 😭

It was a quiet morning when you finally decided to reopen the bakery. The town had been whispering, speculating about the sudden disappearance of your husband—tragic, they said, to be found mauled by a bear in the woods. You hadn’t shed a tear, hadn’t flinched at the news. Maybe that was cruel of you, but after what you had endured, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything for him anymore. Not fear, not sadness—just relief.

And now, with the bakery open once again, you felt lighter. Freer.

The 141 boys were there first thing, as you had hoped. Each one walking into the cozy space like they belonged there. Their heavy, winter boots made the wooden floors creak, their towering frames somehow making the space feel intimate rather than intimidating. You smiled as the familiar smell of fresh bread and sugar lingered in the air, the warmth of the ovens cocooning you and the rest of the bakery in comfort. Free from that terrible man you’d called a husband, it was as if the world itself was taking on a more vibrant color.

“Morning, sweetheart,” John greeted you, his eyes crinkling beneath his hat, though there was something watchful in his gaze.

“Bonnie,” Johnny chirped, leaning on the counter, his eyes sparkling as they usually did when he spoke to you. “Place smells heavenly as always.”

“You’re open today, huh?” Kyle said, grinning as he eyed the display of pastries lined up neatly behind the glass. “Missed our favorite baker, honestly.”

Simon didn’t say anything at first, just gave you a long, steady look from behind his mask. You knew he had seen the signs. He was the only one who had seen the bruises, had taken your hands so gently that day and whispered that promise. You hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t said anything in return, but you had trusted him all the same. You are glad you did. You are so glad it’d been him to see.

Now, as you wiped your hands on your apron and stepped out from behind the counter, your heart was lighter than it had been in months. “Everything’s on the house today,” you said, your smile wider than it had been in ages. “For you guys, at least. After all… I’ve got a few new things for you to try.”

Soap raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that so? Then we’re in for a treat, eh boys?”

You went back to the counter, pulling out a few trays and plates, your hands moving quickly as you started setting them down in front of the men, watching their eyes light up at the spread. “I’ve been experimenting,” you said, your voice light, almost teasing. “For John, I’ve got pecan pie. Thought you might like it—something a bit rich, a bit warm.” Like you, goes unsaid but you hoped he still heard it.

John’s eyes gleamed as he accepted the slice you placed in front of him. “Always knew you were a mind reader,” he murmured with a chuckle, cutting into the pie and taking a bite. The smile that spread across his face was slow, but appreciative.

“For you, Kyle, lemon meringue tarts. Something sharp, refreshing. A little tangy,” you said, setting the plate in front of him. “And a bit sweet, too. Had a feeling you’d like it!”

Kyle laughed, picking up the tart and admiring it at first. “You know me too well.” He took a bite, his eyes widening at the burst of lemon on his tongue and then groaning in delight. “Perfect, as always.”

Simon watched you closely, and when you placed a plate of apple fritters in front of him, his gaze softened just slightly. “Made these with you in mind,” you said, your voice gentle. “Thought you’d appreciate something classic, Si. Simple, but comforting.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just nodded in that way of his, taking the fritter in his gloved hand. When he took a bite, his eyes closed briefly, and you could see the silent approval in the way his shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly.

“And for you, Johnny,” you giggled, setting down a small bowl of Cranachan in front of him. “Thought you might like something traditional- whisky, raspberries, oats, and cream. Feels like a bit of home, doesn’t it? At least I hope so. It was my first time making it.”

Johnny beamed all the same, eagerly reaching for a spoon. “Ah, bonnie, you’re spoiling us.”

But it wasn’t just them you were thinking of. You had made a fresh batch of focaccia bread for yourself, but this wasn’t just any bread- it was bold, spiced with rosemary and topped with chilli flakes and garlic. It was a reflection of your own newfound boldness. You’d been quiet, subdued for so long. Now, you wanted to feel alive again.Perhaps it might seem corny, but this focaccia bread meant to signify that for you.

You set a slice of the focaccia on a plate for yourself, taking a bite as you sat with them, your smile not faltering for a second. It was savoury- settling warmth in your stomach. “I think this might be my new favorite, actually.” you said with a soft laugh. In your mind, you were already thinking of making and selling more of it.

They didn’t say much in response, still tasting their own desserts, but you could feel their appreciation, their understanding, in the quiet way they accepted it.

The rest of the bakery was alive with the smell of freshly baked treats: rich brownies, soft sugar cookies, fluffy cronuts, and delicate eclairs. Tres leches cakes sat next to pumpkin pies, while apple and custard empanadas filled the air with their sweet, warm scent. Cheesecakes, cardamom rolls, strawberry lamingtons—the selection was almost overwhelming, but everything sold well. Especially the bear claw pastries. You smiled softly to yourself at the irony. The bearclaw pastries might also be your new favorite, right alongside the focaccia.

Johnny noticed it immediately, the little twitch of your lips, and raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny, bonnie?”

You waved him off, shaking your head. “Oh, nothing. Just… the bear claws. They’ve been selling really well lately. Thought it was… fitting.”

Simon’s eyes flicked to you, then to the bear claw pastries sitting neatly in a display case. A slow understanding crossed his gaze, but he didn’t say anything. Just a slight nod, the corner of his mouth twitching, the silent acknowledgment of the truth that you all shared. You had no doubt the others knew about it as well- maybe even had a hand in it. Such incredible men.

And for the first time, standing in your bakery, surrounded by warmth and the quiet camaraderie of the men you had come to trust, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. The past was behind you. Now, you had a future to look forward to—one filled with new beginnings, layers to unfold like a mille-feuille crepe cake, and the quiet reassurance that you were no longer alone.

“Here’s to new beginnings,” you said, raising your cup of coffee, your smile bright and genuine.

The boys raised their cups in return, their expressions soft but full of unspoken promises. “To new beginnings,” they echoed, and for the first time in a long time, you believed it. Especially because you could see the way they were looking at you.

masterpost

[truly-quirkless-a]

"TOSHI PLEASE,"

"I WILL KEEP BUYING AND DESTROYING OVENS UNTIL ONE OF THEM STOPS BEING HATEFUL TO MY FUCKING SPOUSE!!!!"

[wonderjanga]

Marvel’s an Old Lady

He acts like an old lady. I don’t know. Let’s say Billy’s been spending too much time volunteering at an elderly home because he doesn’t want to be on the streets skulking around. It’s rubbed off on him.

Like for example, he knits like crazy at the Watchtower. It gives him something to do with his hands, what can he say?

Marvel: *in an all too small rocking chair, holding too small knitting needles, zoned out, listening to the gods argue while making a quilt that’s like twelve feet long*

Hal Jordan and John Stewart: *peaking around a corner, watching Marvel*

Hal: “That’s what I was saying! He does not look okay.”

John: “Hal, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Hal: “Dude, he’s been at this for like two hours straight. No breaks.”

John: “Wait really?” *sounds more concerned now* “I would’ve thought he’d been at that for two days.”

Hal: “Yeah, no. He’s just been sitting there. Knitting. It’s kinda creepy to be honest.”

John: “Damn.” *uses ring to summon a ruler and float it over to measure the quilt*

Marvel: *doesn’t even notice as Zeus is picking a fight with Solomon*

John: “That thing’s like twelve feet long.”

Hal: “What?” *concern amps up*

Later Billy cut up the quilt a little bit and donated it all to a homeless shelter.

Then of course there’s the classic old lady move of giving out candy. He’d give the younger heroes candies. He’d give the younger heroes who have become adult heroes candies. And overall, he’d just give everyone candies.

Flash: *telling Marvel about some problems with Iris* “—And now she’s mad at me!”

Marvel: “Oh, it’s okay Flash. Here, have some candy.” *puts a strawberry taffy in Barry’s hand*

Flash: *sniffles as he shoves it into his mouth, wrapper and everything* “Thanks, man.”

Or

Damian: *got scolded by Bruce and is now silently brooding on the couch in the Titan’s Tower*

Marvel: “Heyyyyy Robin…” *super awkward* “I uh… heard you got scolded by Mr. Batman.”

Damian: *mini bat-glares him*

Marvel: *awkward pause* “Take a candy.” *gives him an orange taffy*

Damian: *stares at the candy for a bit* “Tt. I have no need for pity-filled gestures.”

Marvel: “It wasn’t meant to be pity-filled. I just thought candy would make you feel better. Sorry.”

Damian: “Don’t waste your apologies.” *eventually eats it*

or

Marvel: *gives a blood covered Red Hood candies even though the man just shot someone in front of him*

Batman: “Don’t encourage him.”

Red Hood: “Definitely encourage me. I have no idea where you get these but they are delicious.”

Then, the pie making.

Supes: *walks into kitchen cause he smells pie* “Marvel? Are you making pies?”

Marvel: *taking a fresh pie out of the oven* “Hm? Yeah! Ms. Kent told me about a new recipe to try.”

Supes: “Ms. Kent? Lois doesn’t make pies.”

Marvel: “Ohhhhh. No. I meant the other Ms. Kent. Your mom. We discuss and make pies and pie recipes. I’ve been to the farm a couple times too so we could bake together- Your mom hasn’t told you?”

Supes: “No?? Why do just casually know my mom like that?”

Marvel: “We met through a Facebook group. Want to try my blueberry?” *holds up pie*

Supes: “Yes??” *gets a slice and takes a bite* “This really good.”

[quizzicalwriter]

Cola

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were off for spring break, why not introduce yourself to your parent’s new next door neighbor?

Warnings: SMUT. MDNI. Infidelity, older Ellie, touching, kissing, fingering, squirting, strap usage (r!receiving)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Part two / Part three

“Those two always argue.” Your mom huffed out, eyes flickering over to the open kitchen window, the sounds of a shouted confrontation pouring in through the screen. You turned your head away from your mom, squinting to see through the mess of trees and bushes that separated your parent’s house from their neighbors.

Whoever they were, they didn’t sound happy. Some of the words exchanged made you wince, eyes widening as you looked back to your mom with a faint and semi-embarrassed laugh, as though you’d heard too much from someone you didn’t even know the face of.

“Sounds like it.” You replied, hopping down from the kitchen counter to pad over to the island, leaning down on your elbows as your mom kneaded out the dough for her bread. The house smelled lovely, reminding you of your childhood when you’d bother your mom to bits because you wanted to ‘help,’ not realizing your help usually meant tripping your mom up or making her forget important steps in her cooking.

So for now you just watched, committing it all to memory in hopes you’d be able to accomplish something even the slightest bit similar once your break was over and you were forced back onto campus. As your mom placed the bread into the oven you padded upstairs, deciding on changing out of your pajamas, after all, it was nearly one in the afternoon and you had plans to go out not too much later.

You sorted through your dresser, humming to yourself as you stripped yourself of your clothing. You’d never given much thought to your bedroom windows, one faced the backyard and one faced your neighbor's house. You’d never worried about your neighbor before, or now, given the argument you just overheard not too long ago. As you pulled your sundress over your head you turned to your window, consequently locking eyes with your parent’s neighbor who stood dumbstruck in her backyard.

“Fuck-“ You cursed, immediately moving from the window's line of sight as you pulled your dress on. “Great, haven’t even been home for a day and I’ve already flashed the neighbor.”

The embarrassment was still ripe in your mind as you made your way back downstairs, hopeful that some homemade bread would soothe your mind. As you walked into the kitchen you noticed your mom wrapping the bread, her eyes casting over to you.

“There you are!” She stated, smiling brightly. “Can you take this over to the neighbors? Figured that poor girl can use some homemade bread with her wife yelling like that all the time.”

You feigned a smile, not one to turn your mom down for something so simple. So you took the bread, holding it close to your chest as you slipped your sandals on, padding down the front porch steps and over onto their lawn.

It was beautifully manicured, the nearby garden buzzing with birds and bees. You’d only ever seen such manicured lawns on the nicer side of town, where dads took utmost pride in ensuring their lawns looked picture-perfect. Maybe the neighbor was one of those people? You mulled the thought over as you walked up their front porch steps, ringing the doorbell with your elbow after.

You could hear the sound of sports blaring from inside the house, the sound suddenly muted, followed by the subtle sound of footsteps approaching the door. What you hadn’t expected, or at least hoped wouldn’t happen, was that the same woman who’d just seen you naked would be on the other side of the door.

You paled, as did she, her eyes flickering between yours and the bread you now appeared to be crushing in your grasp, the crackling of the crust sounding in the awkward silence shared between you two.

“You’re going to kill it.” She muttered, pointing down to the bread. You jumped, looking down at it, silently cursing at yourself as you loosened your grip.

“My mom-“ You started, clearing your throat as you shook your head. “She made you bread, wanted me to deliver it.”

You handed the bread over, feigning a smile as she took it from your hands, smiling down at it as she flipped it over in her grasp. For some godforsaken reason, you blurted out the one thing lingering on your mind, instead of being a normal human being and brushing past it.

“I’m sorry you saw my tits.”

The words hung heavy in the air, causing her to stiffen as she looked up at you, her face soon twisting into a smile as she broke out into laughter. She laughed for a bit, enough for you to calm yourself and laugh a fair bit yourself.

“Blunt, aren’t you?” She laughed out, wiping beneath her eyes as she caught her breath. “Jesus, kid. It’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have been looking. I’m- I’m Ellie.”

You smiled, extending out your hand which Ellie quickly took, giving it a slight shake, although you could tell she was holding herself back as she did. It made you wonder just how strong her hands were, especially since her arm muscles seemed to be made ever more apparent in the midday sun.

“Nice name.” You stated, dropping your hand back down to your side. “My parents are your neighbors, I’m just visiting because I’m on break.”

Ellie nodded, pursing her lips as her gaze flickered over to your parent’s house. “High school?” She asked, looking back at you.

“College.” You replied, rocking back onto your heels. “First year.”

Ellie’s fingers smoothed over the cellophane, the wrinkling of the plastic underneath her hands filling the silence once again. She exhaled then, turning halfway toward her front door before smiling back at you.

“Tell your mom I said thanks.”

You gave her a brief thumbs-up, walking back down the porch steps into your parent's yard, completely oblivious to the fact that Ellie watched you walk back the whole way, eyes fixated on your hips and ass.

Much to your chagrin, your parents were pinnacles of their neighborhood, knowing everyone and everything that went on within the little suburb. It was nice, in a way, the little neighborhood block parties and the way they always had friends to talk to. It certainly took the pressure off of you in some aspects, but what you hadn’t figured was that they’d throw a party during your break.

They swore it was for you and for you to catch up with everyone, you had been gone for a while at college, so in a way, you were thankful and found it cute. What you didn’t factor in was Ellie attending, her hair tied back in a half-bun, white shirt sleeves rolled up halfway, practically sex on legs. You’d hardly heard your mom asking you to cart out some drinks to the table in the middle of the cul-de-sac until she nudged you with your foot, to which you profusely apologized and made your way outside.

Ellie was conversing with your dad, a bright smile on her face, a drink in one hand as the other rested in her front pocket. Your dad noticed you approaching, smiling at you as he waved you over, you put on a brave face and placed the drinks down on the nearby table before making your way over to them.

“Ellie, this is my daughter.” He stated, pulling you close as he smiled over at Ellie. Ellie only nodded, taking a sip of her drink before replying.

“Met her yesterday, she dropped off some bread. Really good bread, by the way. I’ll have to thank your mom in person.”

Your dad laughed and nodded, about to say something further until a few of his friends from around the neighborhood called him over. He gave Ellie a brief apology, walking over in their direction after, leaving you and her alone.

“Nice dress.” She murmured, eyes flickering over the fabric, how it hugged your hips, the way your breasts strained against the top, it made her have to clear her throat.

“Thanks.” You replied, smiling up at her. You took a moment to look around the party, wondering where her wife was amongst all the other partygoers. “Where’s your wife? You have one, right?”

Ellie snickered at your question, nodding in response as she took another drink from her cup. “I do have a wife.” She stated, tone hinting toward a fair bit of irritation on the subject. “She’s with her parents for a while.”

Sensing the irritation on the subject, your eyes widened, looking to the table between you as you pursed your lips. You’d never been one for awkward situations, they always made your nervous laugh flare up. As if on cue, your lips quirked into a smile, one Ellie noticed right away.

“Am I missing out on a joke?” She asked, words sarcastic as she placed her now empty cup down on the table. Your smirk turned into laughter, your hand shooting up to cover your mouth as you shook your head.

“No, fuck-“ You started, laughter continuing as you squeezed your eyes shut. “I have a nervous laugh, your response made me laugh.”

Ellie’s shoulders seemed to drop then, a smile of her own making an appearance as she chuckled, breathing out a lungful of air as she looked over to you. “You’re weird.” She noted, although a hint of something warm lingered in her words.

“I’ve been told.” You replied, tilting your head as your laughter died down. “I’m sorry for asking about your wife, by the way. You seemed pissed at the mere mention of her.”

Ellie shrugged then, sighing quietly as she itched the back of her neck. “It’s no problem, I guess it’s a sore subject. She’s- well, I’m sure you’ve heard.”

You nodded, not wanting to pry on the subject. After all, you were fairly certain everyone in the neighborhood had heard Ellie and her wife arguing at the asscrack of dawn. You’d never been close enough to overhear specifically what it was about, but it was loud enough to startle you on more than one occasion.

“Why don’t you leave?” You asked, knowing the question was a bit loaded. “I mean, you guys argue a lot. I was just wondering.”

She waved off your concern. “I get it, I’ve heard my fair share of it. I’ve thought about it.”

A sigh passed her lips then, one she shook off as she reached for another drink, popping the top off with her thumb before drinking some. As she swallowed she looked back to you, faint worry lines evident against her skin. You wondered how much older than you she was, she had to be at least ten to fifteen years older. The thought aroused you, making you pull your gaze from hers as you tried to focus on the table.

“How old are you?” She asked, seemingly reading your mind. You looked back up at her, smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Nearly twenty.”

She laughed then, eyes widening as she looked away from you. “Would not have guessed that.”

You laughed in response, moving over to her side of the table, propping yourself up on it as you met her gaze. “Why?”

“Well, I’m twice your age, that’s why.” She responded, words soft as she looked down at you.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the ever-present ache in your lower stomach at the near condescending tone she used with you. Her age shouldn’t have made her hotter, but it did, it really did.

“You look good for your age.” You replied. “Really good.”

Ellie chuckled in her throat, eyebrows lifting for a moment as she shook her head, eyes fixated on the rim of her cup. “You’re bold.” She stated, words spoken with a sigh as she turned her head to look out at the amassed crowd. After a moment she turned back to you, a coy grin on her face. “You haven’t seen my house, have you?”

There was a hidden insinuation in her words, in the way her eyes hovered over your chest before flickering back up to your eyes. You’d be a fool to say anything other than ‘no.’ So you shook your head, the motion causing her smile to widen as she nodded to her house, inviting you to follow her. Part of you pulled, begged for you to go in the opposite direction, knowing exactly what’d happen once you were inside her house - she was married, for Christ’s sake, but you couldn’t. The way her hand flexed around her drink made your stomach twist, panties coated in your wetness already.

You felt thankful that everyone seemed too preoccupied with the huge pile of fireworks to notice you and Ellie ducking off, even more so once you were inside her house, wordlessly following her through the halls. There were pictures of who you could only assume were Ellie’s family, photos with her smiling brightly, in the middle of fits of laughter, it was precious. You couldn’t help but smile at them as she moved into her kitchen, placing the cup down on the island counter.

“I like your photos.” You stated, moving into the kitchen after her, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of her leaned back against the counter, muscles in her forearms evident.

“Take off your clothes.” She responded, tone nonchalant as though she were asking you to hand her a plate. You didn’t hesitate, eyes locked with hers as you reached behind yourself, unzipping your dress. The fabric slipped down your form, exposing your bare breasts to her eyes. She smiled, moving toward you, raising a hand to hold your hip as the other moved to your breasts, kneading the flesh in her palm as she took in your body. “No bra?”

You shook your head, breaths coming out shallow as her finger brushed over your hardening nipple. “Don’t like them.” You whispered, eyes flickering up to meet hers. “They wouldn’t go with the dress.”

Ellie nodded, smiling to herself as her other hand looped around the hem of your panties, bending down slightly to help you step out of them. You’d half expected her to toss them to the floor, but she balled them up, shoving them into her back pocket. The act was perverse, leaving you clenching around nothing as you watched her stand back up straight.

She traced the back of her hand along your curves, touch so gentle it almost didn’t register in your mind. It almost seemed as though she meant to commit every facet of your being to memory, the thought alone making your thighs clench together, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by her. Her green eyes flitted up to your face, brows quirking up in amusement as she trailed the back of her fingers along your inner thighs, fingertips barely brushing the outside of your cunt.

“Are you aching?” She asked, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear you admit to it. You nodded, wetting your lips. She tutted, turning her hand over to press her middle and ring finger to your folds, applying just enough pressure to gather your wetness on the pads of her fingers. Your legs practically buckled beneath you, a whine dying in the back of your throat as you held onto the counter behind you.

She pulled her hand away then, examining her fingertips under the warm hue of the kitchen lights, a smug smile on her face as her eyes flitted back up to meet yours. She held up her fingers then, pressing them to your lips, to which you eagerly opened your mouth. Her fingers pressed down on your tongue, the taste of your arousal coating your tastebuds as you sucked her fingers clean.

A soft moan passed her lips at the feeling of your tongue laving at her fingers, causing her to ache as well. You could see her pupils dilate, her breath coming out haggard as she removed her fingers from your mouth, brushing her thumb against your bottom lip after. You kept your gaze steady with hers, having to remind yourself to breathe every few seconds.

“Want me to fuck you?” She asked, the question so bold that you nearly forgot to respond until her eyes flicked up from your breasts to your eyes, her brow quirking in question. You nodded.

“Please.”

She bit back a smile, grabbing your wrist before leading you back through the house toward the staircase. The walls and furniture passed by your mind in a blur, only finding yourself able to focus on Ellie’s back and the occasional glance toward you she’d toss over her shoulder. Her being fully clothed while you’d been stripped of everything you’d worn was not lost on you, if anything it seemed to heighten your arousal.

Her bedroom was modest, with a nice king-sized mattress in the middle of the room and two big windows overlooking the backyard and the side of your parent's house - the view was partially skewed by some trees, but you could see your bedroom window. Ellie led you over to the bed, letting you sit down as she moved over to her bedside table. You watched in silent amazement as she removed her clothes, each layer removed exposing more and more of her toned skin to your eyes.

You’d hardly been paying attention to anything else besides her abdomen and arms, finding yourself surprised when she moved back in front of you, hand languidly pumping her strap. She looked at you expectantly, to which you moved from the bed and onto your knees, opening your mouth obediently. She hummed out a laugh, fingers brushing your hair back from your face as she used her other hand to slap the tip of her strap against your tongue.

You wrapped your lips around the silicone tip, relaxing your throat as you began bobbing your head, earning you an affectionate coo as she cradled your cheek, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. Her hips moved forward, pushing her strap farther down your throat, causing your eyes to water as you held back an involuntary gag. You could hear her holding back a grunt at the sight of you struggling to take her strap down your throat, spit coating your chin and dripping down to the top of your breasts.

“You look so good choking on my cock.” She whispered, tone full of pride as she smiled down at you. Her fingers grasped your hair, sharply pulling you back, a string of drool connecting you to the tip of her strap. You licked your lips clean, taking in several deep breaths as you looked up at her. She nodded her head toward the bed, helping you to your feet before guiding you onto the plush mattress, positioning you on your hands and knees.

You rested down on your elbows, arching your back, feeling the cold air against your bare cunt. Her hands smoothed up the back of your thighs, harshly grabbing at your ass, giving the skin there a sharp slap. You whined, leaning forward, only for her to grab your hips and pull you back. You bit into your bottom lip, feeling her drag the tip of her strap up and down along your folds, finally pushing in after you let out a particularly needy whine.

“Fuck-“ You cried out, resting your head on your forearms as you let her hoist your body up, fucking you hard enough for the bed frame to clatter against the wall. You could feel your cum dripping down your inner thighs, each push forward of her hips creating a sheen of your juices around the silicone.

She was hitting so deep within you, surely bruising your cervix, each thrust leaving you gasping into her bedsheets, fingers twisted into the maroon fabric. Her hands grasped harshly at your hips, nails digging into the plush flesh as she fucked her strap into you.

“Take it so good.” She murmured through grunts, voice breathless and strained. Her praise went straight to your cunt, causing you to squeeze around her strap. Her hands moved to your lower back, pushing down until your chest and stomach were flush with the bedding. “Arch that back, baby. Fuck-“

You could hear the lewd noise pooling from between your legs, cum slowly dripping down your skin. You were putty in her hands, wanting her to do everything she wanted with you - and she would.

Her right arm hooked around your waist, hand immediately moving to your cunt where she circled her fingers around your clit, slick noises emanating in the air between your near pathetic whines for her to fuck you harder, deeper - you couldn’t get enough of her. She pressed kisses down the back of your neck to the top of your spine, gently nipping at the skin as she continued rutting into you.

“Gonna cum on my cock, baby?” She all but purred into your shoulder, placing an open-mouthed kiss on your skin in between her words. “Go on, cum for me.”

You could hardly formulate words to reply, all you managed was a strangled cry of her name into the bedsheets, hips jerking in her hold. She didn’t slow down, still fucking her strap into you as she circled her fingers around your clit. Your hands pushed at hers, wordlessly telling her it was too much, all for her to use the hand she’d been using to circle your clit to hold your hands together by your wrists.

“Just stay like that, baby.” She grunted out, cursing under her breath as the base of the strap bumped into her clit over, and over again, bringing her to the cusp of her orgasm. You’d never been one for overstimulation, but the way she had you pinned to the mattress paired with the way her strap rutted against your g-spot left you teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

You were cumming around her strap before you’d even registered it, hips pathetically pushing back to meet her thrusts as you cried out her name into the bedsheets. Everything in your mind seemed to be muddled, finding yourself only able to focus on the sheer pleasure coursing through your veins paired with Ellie’s moans as she fucked you through her orgasm. It wasn't until after you were able to finally fill your lungs full of air that you realized your inner thighs were soaked.

“Holy fuck.” Ellie laughed out, eyes widened with amusement as she pulled out of you, strap dripping with your cum. “You soaked the sheets.”

You felt your face alight, nervous and breathless laughter leaving you as you brushed your hair from your face. “‘M sorry.”

She shook her head, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder, undoing the harness before tossing it to the other side of the room, her breaths coming out in shallow pants. “Fuck, don’t apologize for that. Here- wait here, okay?”

You gave her a weak nod, collapsing down onto the comfortable mattress, feeling your thigh muscles twitching beneath your skin. She returned moments later, your dress in one hand and a wet washcloth in the other. She placed your dress beside you, seeming to hesitate in her movements before wiping down the inside of your thighs, the feeling pulling a tired whine from your chest.

After that was a bit of a blur, you’d managed to get yourself dressed and presentable. Ellie put on a different outfit, grumbling something about how her clothes had gotten soaked during the whole ordeal. She was far more gentle than she had been beforehand, seeming to not meet your gaze without a faint blush painted across her cheeks. As she moved with you down the staircase and toward the front door, you turned to her, a naive hopefulness in your eyes.

“Can I see you again?” You asked, giving her a small smile. She looked down at you, lips quirking at the sides. Although you could tell she was struggling with her moral quandary centered around her infidelity. You didn’t know if you’d get the truth from her, but you’d let yourself believe whatever she responded with.

“Sure.”

A/N: This one is so long, I’m so sorry. I have a thing for older Ellie. I ain’t apologizing for that. Anyway!!! If y’all have any requests for Ellie or Abby or anyone from TLOU2 let me know! I hope you guys enjoy this, and thank you for reading or skimming or whatever you do - I appreciate the interactions nonetheless. And you can find all my works over on my AO3 under the user, “Unscriptural.”

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hiii I really love the one with the harbingers where reader calls them words of endearment from their homeland, can you do one where reader cooks for them food from their homeland? pantalone's part was so cute <33

✦ You cook them their favorite home meal, based on their homeland

(Or trying to guess what food the not-yet-playable characters might like based on their region, culture, or language. ) 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe 

✧ It is to no one’s surprise that Pierro, the Director of the Fatui, would easily drop everything to grant your needs. Just blink and the world’s spoils are at your feet, bestowed by your beloved. Expensive clothing, jewelry, art pieces, weaponry, or lavish dishes. With his money and status, plus being a connoisseur of the ancient lores of Teyvat, The Jester can easily acquire anything you require on a silver platter. 

But this time, it was you who tried to gift him something on a silver platter.

On an unsuspecting day, Pierro returned home only to be greeted with a strong scent of baked goods. The smell wafted all around the living quarters, warm and sugary. Glancing curiously, the Jester marched to the kitchen, where he found you grumbling to yourself. You stood with your oven mittens, a tray of voluptuous Kanelbullar presented in front of him; some were cut as you tried to take an analytical bite of the cinnamon rolls.

“Trying your hands at familiar recipes, my cherished?” - The man asked with a welcoming glance while you mulled and judged the taste of your cooked goods.

“Ah, Pierro, you’re right on time. Here, try this one for me. Does it resemble traditional cinnamon rolls?”

When the Jester took a bite, even his icy eye widened for a moment. A wave of nostalgia and warmth lanced his memories, ones he thought were long forgotten. The cinnamon rolls you baked were not the average confectionaries one could easily purchase, as the taste resembled traditional Khaenri’ahn Kanelbullar. A simple treat that all children and adults used to enjoy in their free time.  

“Well…? Oh no, don’t tell me it’s that bad?” - you awaited his response, but Pierro quickly shook his head.

“It’s rich and potent in taste, but not too sugary. Just like the ones in our Homeland… I didn’t think replicating such intricacies was possible. What did you add this time?”

Your eyes light up. Finally, some progress. “Really? I’ve been mulling over it for hours, I thought my taste pallet was going numb. I tried to find any local ingredients that might add the flavor of saffron and cardamon.”

“Like the golden Saffron…? They were a local specialty back in Khaenri’ah. Although some variants exist in Teyvat’s soil, they are not used as cooking ingredients here.” - Pierro pondered, amazed at your ability to combine other local spices to imitate the taste of the past.

As both of you mulled over how to achieve the most accurate results for these traditional Cinnamon Rolls, half of the tray was already gone.

“Although now that I think about it, my divine, I don’t think it would be an issue to send an expedition to obtain that rare spice for you. Especially if the result is such exquisite home pastry.”

✧ In this house, Il Capitano is the master chef. The man is proficient in the art of survival, thus, his skills in outdoor cooking are especially shown. From simple meat and vegetables, the Captain can come up with the best meat skewers you ever ate. Not to mention the topic of sustenance and growth is intertwined with a good diet. A man his size and capabilities puts immense care into outdoor survival and health.

But even a strong Captain deserves some spoiling for his hard work. 

After a wearying day spent honing the skills of his Fatui troops, a group of soldiers that will prepare for an upcoming expedition, Il Capitano was greeted with a surprise visit from you. You arrived right on time for their break, and as always, the Fatui soldiers couldn't help but eavesdrop on the Harbinger’s exchange with his beloved…

“I brought you your meal for today, Bife de chorizo. You need lots of protein.”

“Thank you.” - The Captain stood obediently, holding the lunchbox you brought.

“With Pico de Gallo and avocados. I also put some almonds and walnuts as a snack.”

“I understand.” 

“You are preparing for another important expedition. You must take care of your body after such intensive training, Cappy.”

“You are right, you are right.”

“And I don’t want to see anything left from the lunch boxes. Make sure to eat all of it, okay?”

“Understood!”

It sure was a sight. One would think the Harbinger was the student as he stood nodding vehemently while you scolded him. With one hand on your hip, you gave him an earful as you checked up on him, generously providing him a full-course meal neatly packed in a mealbox.

The Fatui soldiers were slightly jealous. Even they could easily tell that behind that pitch-black helmet, Il Capitano was absolutely joyous to have his beloved visit him and provide such mouthwatering nourishment. 

✧ Today, you were ready to tackle and kill Il Dottore. Why? Because that man barged into your kitchen and confidently announced himself as the culinarian for today’s dinner. A simple and kind gesture, right? You would rather starve than have The Doctor implode your kitchen again.

“Stop exaggerating as if I let your Serenitea Pot house crumble. It was just a little fire.” - Dottore defended himself, watching closely as you made him stand back from the stove. 

“I had to replace the whole walls, Zandik!”

The two of you stood in the kitchen, with the Harbinger peeking from behind your shoulders as you claimed dominion over the frying pan. The whole day, he was made watching you prepare Sumeru Kibbeh meatballs, since the last time he decided to dabble in the art of cooking, your house was put at stake.

He was a scholar, not a chef, unfortunately. But The Doctor is not ashamed to admit his impatience and lack of skill in the kitchen. Hence, he helped you as much as he could while you diligently taught him how Kibbeh is properly made. He remained silent but pleasantly subservient. The sight of your sleeves raised, hands tactfully molding the Kibbeh was oddly amiable. Especially when your face was so focused on the task, he couldn’t help but stare. 

Yet every time you fried the meatballs and set them aside on a pan lined with paper towels to drain, a sneaky hand would try to steal some. You’d slap his hand away.

“Nope. Hands off! Wait till dinner”

“They’ll end up being consumed anyway. I’ll just have a small tas-”

Slap!

And it continued for a long while, all the way to the end once you finished cooking. When the two of you finally sat down and began eating, Dottore would often remain silent. You were too busy relishing the dish, unaware of the Harbinger’s appreciation for your home-cooked meal. Sustenance is just a waste of time that the human body must go through to gain its energy. But it’s not the same when he is sitting with you casually, the warm afternoon sunlight wrapping the dining table, and the warm food steaming with an appetizing aroma.

For him, eating with you was different. It was simple, but it was home. 

✧ Scaramouche may huff and scoff all he wants, but when it comes to appraising your Unagi Chazuke, no master can compete with you. Perhaps because he is a puppet, but Scaramouche has a delicate pallet. He despises strong flavors and always preferred simpler dishes, to appreciate the unique flavor of a singular ingredient. He would never admit it vocally, but he would often crave your chazukes, and it was easily written on his grumbling face.

“Come on, just say it.”

The Balladeer lamented.

“Say it. My home cooking is the best, and you just want me to cook for you today.”

“...I won’t. I don’t have use in consuming any human meals.” - he mumbled in response, arms crossed. You sighed and with a wide smile, you turned away.

“Oh well. Guess you don’t want any, huh…? And here I thought I could prepare your favorite Unagi Chazuke today. But I guess it’s foolish-”

“No, Wait-!” - The Harbinger wished to bite his tongue but it was too late. He already called out to you in a moment of weakness, and your goofy grin only widened with his desperation. 

He gave up. With reluctant embarrassment, the Balladeer admitted your victory - “If you may… Can you prepare another one of your signature Chazuke? Please.”

And that’s how you two ended up by the dinner table. You couldn’t just deny him after such a heartfelt request. You prepared the unagi meat and rice diligently, showing him how to prepare green tea to add mild bitterness to the salted rice. Topping off with some dried Nori leaves, and sesame - two bows of Unagi Chazuke were ready and looking artistically grandiose.

Light and sublime, that’s what Scaramouche thought. A true definition of soul food, as he held his bowl and chopsticks close. A rare but sincere smile would always grace his features whenever he ate your cooking, but he of course would conceal it by clearing his throat.

“Hm, okay fine. Maybe your cooking is adequate after all. Especially when you don’t make it too sweet.”

You’d laugh at his reaction. At the end of the day, it was you who taught him how to cook what later would become his signature dish, even if his identity as a Harbinger was wiped away. 

✧ Being the richest man in Teyvat like Pantalone means dealing with lots of bureaucracies and business. Sometimes, after a prolonged day in the office, the sight of stacked papers becomes dreadful and negotiations with the Snezhnayan elites may go fruitless. Thus, The Regrator would often slum by his desk, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose and sigh in exhaustion.

Now what would the richest man in Teyvat do to relax after a bad day at work? Go to the most expensive five-star restaurant? Perhaps purchase a fancy drink that costs more than his subordinates' monthly salary? No. He would head straight back home, where he knows you are awaiting him with open arms.

A single look at him and you would know he is fatigued. Leaning up to embrace him, you plant a tender kiss on his cheek - “How about I make us a quick snack, hm? You can go and take a shower in the meantime.”

Pantalone would try to conjure up a faint smile and nod. As he winds down for the day, subconsciously he knows your home cooking is like a balm to his soul. No matter how many exquisite restaurants he tried, he’d easily sacrifice all of them for a bite-full of your culinary.

And here you are, merrily handing him his childhood favorite - Mora Meat Roujiamo. A simple meat sandwich, but a staple street food in Liyue’s culture. That’s all the Harbinger desires after a tough day at work, as he gobbles the sandwich wrapped with a paper towel.

“Made your favorites. I added some extra meat since I know you like it juicy.” - you gave Pantalone soothing pats on the back as he ate up.

“You’re a lifesaver, honey. You would not believe how frustrating work has been today,”

Pantalone would rant and confide in you about his work. He would rather do that than delve into the nostalgic feeling that Mora Meat sandwiches gave him. It was indeed his childhood favorite. Yet it also reminded him how in the distant past, when food or money was scarce, starvation and desperation were his only companions as a lowly child. Thus, on better days when he acquired some change just to purchase simple Mora Meat - these sandwiches felt like a king’s feast.

Such an unadorned dish, but one that brought warmth and sustenance to a starved child, telling him that everything would be okay. Today, this starved child is the richest man in Snezhnayan. Nevertheless, he still relished these sandwiches from your hands like divine wealth, telling himself once more that everything would be okay. 

✧ Tartaglia was bedbound for some while, bandaged heavily after a massive battle he faced during one of his missions. The young Harbinger would never tell his family where his scars hail from, except for you and his father maybe. But after an earful of scolding, you took care of your reckless boyfriend and sighed.

“You made me worried, you know. I don’t want to see you move a muscle around the house these days, are we clear? You must recover first.”

“Y-yes, captain.” - Childe chuckled humorously, suppressing the soreness his cuts provided around his body. “It’s just… there is only one remedy that could save a fallen soldier like me.”

“Hm? What is it? Do you need something, Ajax?” 

“Please, dear… come closer.” - he said with a pained expression. 

You did so he could whisper to you what he wanted. Your concern was only heightened, oblivious that his dramatic words were playing you - “The secret to my healing… is…”

“Yes?” - you leaned even closer.

“... Some yummy food.”

You blinked at him, and Tartaglia immediately gained a comically “passed out” expression on his face, as if your cooking were his last death wish. You let him plop to the pillow and gritted your teeth - “Why you little-...! Ugh, you’re lucky I am worried about you. You just want me to pamper you.”

“Oh, come on, is that such an unrealistic request? You told me not to move a muscle and I would receive your scolding no matter what. Please, sweetheart, just anything you would like - cook it and I would happily gobble it up!”

You crossed your arms. You hate to admit it, but his puppy eyes were working effectively and if his appetite was returning, that means he is on a good path of recovery anyway.

“Fine… I’ll make something nutritious and easy for your stomach.”

Tartaglia's eyes lightened up in an instant. He was a simple man - if you cooked him something, he would drop on his knees for you instantly. That day, you pondered whether you’d make him some Piroshki or Borscht, but he needed something light. His health was your priority, after all. Even though Childe fancied himself a master at concealing his painful whinces, you are no fool. You always notice them.

Thus, your beloved was presented with Ukha fish soup. A warm bowl with fresh herbs, imported calla lily, and nutritious fish.

“Easy now, I know you like Calla Lily Seafood Soup, since you often had it in Liyue… So I decided to go with the local version of it. Now make sure to eat all of it, or you won’t feel better.”

Like an obedient child, Ajax felt pampered and delighted. Lunch by the bed? His sweetheart feeding him? The injuries were worth it as he happily ate the Ukha fish soup.

“If getting injured makes me taste food more worthy than the gods themselves, maybe I should get wounded more often, haha- Ow!”

Your response was another fistful nudge to his shoulder.  

Kanelbullar - in Swedish, Cinnamon Rolls Bife de chorizo - in Spanish, Argentinian beef cut Pico de Gallo - in Spanish, Mexican salsa/dip Kibbeh - in Arabic, bulgur parcel stuffed with minced meat filling (in Genshin, they just called it meatballs lol) Chazuke - in Japanese, green tea poured over a rice meal (Scara's signature dish)  Mora Meat - had to look this one up, apparently Genshin is referencing RouJiaMo (肉夹馍) meaning “meat in a bun". Ukha fish soup - in Russian, also known as fisherman’s soup. Childe’s signature Calla Lily Seafood Soup is probably a variation made with Gēng found in Chinese cuisine. But there is a Slavic variation that reminded me of his signature dish. 

[em-prentiss]

Ice cold

————

In which you have freezing hands, and Aaron warms them up for you.

Cw: fem!bau!reader—I think it could also be read as gn reader, getting together, fluff, first kiss, no use of yn

Word count: 1.7k

This is my first time writing a reader insert, so please be gentle with me lol. I’ve been wanting to write an Aaron x reader for ages and this idea finally came to me last night. Idk if I’ll continue writing these, but if you have any prompts let me know! It took me ridiculously long to come up with this one haha <3

————

The cold bites at your exposed hands and you shiver, dropping your pen and notepad into your coat pockets because they’re all but useless now, your fingers close to snapping in half. You leave Aaron to jot down notes of the crime scene you’re in, keeping your hands in your equally freezing pockets in a poor attempt at keeping them warm.

Who has the energy to dump and mutilate a body in the woods in the middle of January, anyway?

“Isolated and hard to find, safe to say he’s a local.” You murmur, tucking your chin into the collar of your coat. You curl your numb fingers into your palm, cursing quietly at the stiffness in them.

“Yeah,” Aaron agrees. “One with experience, too. No blood spatter, no drag marks. He could’ve wrapped them in tarps.” He clicks his pen closed and slides it into his pocket along with his notepad, making you sigh in relief at the thought of leaving soon. “We’ll know more once Morgan and Rossi come back from the ME.”

You nod silently, clenching your fingers around the cold fibers of your coat pocket as you shiver again. Aaron’s gaze slides to you. 

“You okay?” He asks.

“It’s fucking freezing,” you grumble, hunching your shoulders and trying to wrap your coat tighter around your body. Your hands have gone fully numb now, clenched into icy fists inside your pockets. “My hands froze over. They’re like ice blocks.” You frown, your jutted bottom lip scratching against the wool of your coat.

Aaron smiles amusedly, his heart warming at the sight of your furrowed brows, your chin tucked into your coat for warmth. You shift slightly from foot to foot, subconsciously huddling closer to him and his endless, blazing warmth. 

He turns his back on the deserted crime scene and focuses instead on you, his eyes lingering on the flush on your cheeks, your skin bitten from the cold. He looks perfectly warm, you think grouchily, in his stupid large coat and his stupid neatly wrapped scarf.

“And yet when we went to literal Alaska you didn’t have any complaints,” he says. 

You huff indignantly, “Excuse you, at least in Alaska I knew it was going to be—” You cut off as his fingers wrap around your wrists and gently pull your hands from your pockets.

Immediately the cold bites at them again, but that’s not what makes you falter. “What are you doing?” You ask as he cups both of your hands between his. Distantly, you think it’s a stupid question. But his hands are so warm, large and completely engulfing yours, making you feel like you just stuck them in an oven. You let out an involuntary sigh, your brain going blank at the sudden heat from his hands.

Aaron ignores your question. “You weren’t lying,” he says mildly, bending his head to look at the way your nails were turning blue. He brings your hands up to his face and blows warm air on the blue tips of your fingers, massaging them with circular motions to force the cold out of them. Your heart picks up at the way your hands disappear beneath his, what’s visible of them looking small in his gentle grip.

Your skin is icy beneath his own. “Jeez, are you anemic or something?” He looks up at you and his lips tilt upward at the flush on your cheeks, deeper now than it was before, and you both know it’s not from the cold.

“No,” you squeak, the excessive heat of his hands rendering you incoherent. His thumbs rub gentle circles onto your palms, slowly forcing the warmth back into them. “Just terrible circulation.”

Aaron hums and looks back down at your hands, massaging them thoroughly until you start to regain the feeling in your fingers. You waggle them experimentally and he smiles a little, moving his thumbs up to your knuckles and rubbing them slowly.

You can feel your blush deepen as you look at him. His gaze is fixed on your hands, utterly focused on his task as if it were the single most important thing on his mind today, as if you didn’t have any pressing concerns like a team waiting for your feedback or a serial killer needing to be caught.

By the time he’s moved to your wrists your whole body is warm, your blood buzzing under your skin. He’s involuntarily shifted closer to you, your hands held so close to his chest your fingertips ghost against his shirt. 

His warm fingers brush over your wrist, catching your fluttering pulse, and your breath is trapped in your throat. Aaron presses your palms together and secures his hands over yours, finally done with his task. The warmth of your joint hands travels to your cheeks, the way his thumbs absently skate over the heel of your hands making your whole body flush. “Warm enough now?” He murmurs.

Just about to catch fire, actually. But you nod. “You’re a useful partner in conditions like these, Agent Hotchner. What with your furnace-like hands.” You try to joke through your racing heartbeat.

He chuckles lightly, his dimples digging into his cheeks. His hands are still holding on to yours. You’re glad for that, because otherwise you’re sure you would’ve risen on your tiptoes and pressed a thumb to each dimple, watching the way your fingers dip into the crevice. 

“Happy to be of service. Anything else I can warm up for you?” His eyes are like sun warmed honey, gazing into yours, and the words leave your mouth before you can think about them.

“My lips are cold too.”

Oh god.

You drop your gaze as your cheeks start to flame, a jittery nervousness suddenly making your stomach hurt. You try to tug your hands out of his grip but Aaron holds on tighter, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and holding you in place. 

You’re still looking down at your joint hands when he clears his throat. “I can help with that,” he says evenly, as if his own heart isn’t racing abnormally fast.

Your head snaps up. “What?” You breathe, frozen in place as he lets go of your hands. You don’t even register the sudden cold, your whole focus on the way he takes your face into his palms, his warm fingers pressing against your cold cheeks.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Aaron asks. His face is serious, all hints of his previously playful smile gone. Briefly you start to wonder if this is one of your many dreams about him, but his hands sear your skin, the icy air burns your lungs as you raggedly breathe in and out. 

You swallow, your throat unbearably dry, and nod. “Yes.” You grip the lapels of his coat, feeling the soft fibers between your fingers.

His face transforms. The hard lines soften, his seriousness melting away as he smiles again. The breath returns to your lungs. “Thank god,” he says bluntly, and you laugh, butterflies in your stomach, in your veins. You grin at him as his thumbs stroke your jaw, his fingertips sliding into your hair as he tilts your face up to his.  

“Your efforts at flirting are tragic, by the way,” he murmurs, just before he presses his lips to yours and steals your indignant reply. Immediately you melt into his arms, one hand slipping into his coat and the other resting on the hard line of his jaw. You always wanted to touch it, and as your fingers skate over it, wander over the skin that meets his neck, you feel his erratic pulse beating.

It’s good to know you’re not the only one ridiculously affected.

Aaron reluctantly pulls away when you both are breathless, his lips turning up into a grin at the sight of your dazed eyes. He leans in close and presses soft, gentle kisses on your lips—just to make sure they’re properly warmed up. 

You slip your hand into his hair and sigh—the cold has nothing on you now—just about to kiss him properly when his phone rings.

Aaron steps back and the biting cold replaces his warmth. You shiver as he digs his hand into his pocket and takes out his phone, your lips abnormally warm and your hands slowly returning to their once freezing state. 

“Yeah Dave,” he answers, his eyes still on you. You jut your bottom lip and he grins, his hand reaching for yours. He links your fingers together and softly runs his thumb over yours, making your cheeks flush again. “Sorry, we ran into traffic on the way. We’ll be there in an hour or so.”

Aaron ends the call and you laugh as he tugs you to the car, your fingers still linked. “What?” He smiles and you beam back.

“Traffic?” You raise your brows. 

He rolls his eyes. “What did you want me to say? ‘Sorry I got carried away kissing my beautiful subordinate’?” You reach the car and he opens the door for you, but you don’t get in. 

Your heart skips at his words. He smiles and you finally reach up and place your thumb into his dimple, your own smile spreading. “Yes,” you say simply, unable to believe you can finally do this. “You know they have a running bet on us.” You murmur, leaning forward to kiss the divot in his cheek.

Aaron’s skin warms beneath your lips. His hand falls to the curve of your waist and he squeezes lightly. “I know,” his voice comes out a little tight and you smile. He clears his throat and gently pushes you into the car. “The faster you get in, the faster we can collect. And we’ll use that money for our date, yeah?” 

“Deal.” You grin and get into the car, Aaron’s gentle hand guiding you into the seat. He can’t help but give you another kiss before he closes the door, your lips sweet and soft between his own.

You sigh as he climbs into the driver’s seat, your cheeks delightfully warm and your hands only slightly chilly. Aaron pulls out onto the road and his hand finds yours again. 

You thread your fingers between his and look out the window, feeling absurdly grateful for the cold woods you were in.

[foldingfittedsheets]

My beloved requested we get pizza tonight from the place I got fired. It’s been long enough that I’m not salty, it’s good pizza.

It was packed which wasn’t too unusual for a Friday night but the line was crawling at a super slow pace which was unusual. As we got closer we realized there was a massive table full of uncooked pizzas waiting to go in the oven. Which like, how?

We also saw they didn’t have dough pressed and ready and were frantically doing that while restocking the line with pepperoni and mushrooms.

A harried man shouted it would be at least a 30 minute wait. After a moment he added that they were hiring. It took every ounce of willpower not to shout that that I’d been fired once already but I’d go for twice.

I kept looking for a reason for this predicament. What had happened to set them so far behind? Why hadn’t they had a ton of dough pressed and ready for a Friday night? It seemed absurd that they couldn’t handle a Friday crowd.

After waiting for thirty minutes in line, we got up to order. The girl misspelled my name in the most bizarre way I’ve ever seen in the manner of someone who’s brain has moved passed stress into madness.

She didn’t have dough to make our pizzas but was gamely pressing on with taking our order when the fire alarm got pulled.

The whole restaurant had to empty and the staff looked like they were at the end of their ropes. We got outside and my beloved was ravenous. They had sat in traffic for an hour to get here from work. I kissed their face and told them I’d go pick up pizza at another location and meet them at home. They thanked me effusively and we parted. I saw the fire truck arrive as I pulled away.

When I arrived the other location was *dead*. There were only three customers. But I immediately recognized one of them as the girl who had been behind us in line at the last place. “Are you…?” I asked

“Yes. What do you want to bet they pulled that alarm themselves?”

We laughed and finally got our pizzas, drifting our separate ways after our shared unreasonably long quest for dinner.

[evilgwrl]

hey sunshine 🥰 could you possibly do the 141 with a hyper independent reader? id love to see how they handle a s/o like this!! if not, i totally understand 💜💜 enjoy your sunday

Ofc!! I hope this is what you were looking for, I'm not the most educated on hyper-independence but I tried to do a lil research <3 Sorry it took me so long to write it, I've been having a hectic week

Your feet strummed against the floor; body restless as you looked at the flock of emails piling up. Fidgety hands were tugging at your hair as you looked at the time. Your laptop shut with a huff as you walked into the kitchen, eager to eat as your stomach grumbled.

There was a soft shell of steam covering the room, food broiling in the oven as you turned your attention to the chopping board. You swore quickly, the smell of burning sauce catching your attention as you turned to quickly stir it. Your body swayed back and forth, constantly focusing on something new as you struggled to keep up.

You had a strict schedule, always needing to be on top of everything. You enjoyed the smiles on the boy’s faces when they came through the door to a cooked meal. It was different today, however. Work had finished later than usual, pushing your activity back as the boys walked through the door.

“Hey, bonnie,” Soap flattered, pressing a kiss to your head as he looked at the kitchen, every saucer in use.

“Hi,” you smiled, swatting his hands away as he attempted to stir something.

“Smells good, love,” John cooed, husky breath against your neck as he hugged you from behind.

“I’ll set up the dining table,” Kyle chirped as you quickly yelped at a ‘no’.

“No, no. I’ve got it. Just go sit down. It’s nearly done.”

Simon raised a brow, taking in your quick no. They knew you enjoyed working alone, it just seemed easier for you, but the scene before him was overwhelming to look at as you rubbed at your forehead, pulling something out of the oven.

“We’re happy to help, sweet’art, just let-“

“No, no, I promise its fine. Please just go sit down.”

You were consistent as you shushed them out of the kitchen with a handtowel, turning your attention back to the scene in front of you. Soap frowned as he sat down, resting his chin in his hand.

“She’s gonna work ‘erself to death,” Simon scowled, concerned.

“You know how she is, she’s independent,” Gaz quipped, rubbing a brow.

You were a flurry, piling food onto the plates before they grew cold. You were quick to place all their plates down and hurry back, grabbing a stack of cutlery and cups, the glass pile slightly tipped. John raised from his seat to assist you as you pulled back, offering him a gentle smile.

“Let me help, dove.”

“I’ve got it, I don’t need help,” you spoke quickly as you moved too fast, the glasses tipping over as they clattered against the floor, shards of crystal collecting at your feet as you hissed, the four men surrounding you quickly raising to their feet.

Your legs padded against the floor as you hurried to the kitchen to grab a dustpan from under the sink, Soap quickly in toe. It was overwhelming as they crowded around you, trying to grab the scoop from your fidgety hands before you snapped, “I don’t need your help, just eat your food.”

Your tone was harsh as they stilled, staring at you with concern. Your face felt hot, unshed tears welling in your eyes at the situation. The glass collected in the black box, flickers of shimmer dancing off the sharp shards as you grabbed your own plate, heading to your bedroom.

You weren’t sure where it came from, the need to never ask for help but it ate at you until your body was scolding with overworked heat. The night ticked by slowly as you cooped yourself up in the warmth of your sheets, only getting up to clean as you walked to the kitchen, no mess in sight.

“I hope you don’t mind that we cleaned up, figured you had done enough for us today,” Price’s voice was soft, a glide of comfort slipping from his tongue as he placed his hand’s on his hips.

“I could’ve done it.”

“I know, we all know. But we’re here too, love. It’s not fair for you to take on every load of responsibility. You deserve help. We’re not going anywhere, and we want to show you that we appreciate you too.”

The words settled in your chest as you stared at him, placing the plate in the sink as you offered him a polite glance, attempting to wrap around everything he was saying.

“Thank you,” you said, eyes low as you began to wash. The tickle of hair was felt around your waist, along with two arms as Kyle pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.

“We want to help you, love. You don’t need to go through anything alone, we’re here to support you the way you support us.”

You swallowed deeply.

“We don’t want to overwhelm you either, we just want our girl to feel the best she can,” Price spoke.

It was harder for you to talk about your feelings, your heart chained in between your rib cage, the need to ask for help always at the tip of your tongue but never able to leave, keeping you prisoner to your own despair. The boys left you for a little bit, asking you to join them in the living room when you were ready. There was a gentle pit of anxiety in your stomach as you huffed, ensuring everything had been done before you joined them.

It was a sweet sight to walk into. They were spread on the couch, reassuring smiles on their faces as Soap held his hands out towards the table, a chocolate cake decorated with the words ‘Thank you’ on it along with a bouquet of pink peonies.

You laughed, “When did you have time to get all this?”

“I’m quick,” Ghost beamed, tapping the spot between them as you huddled over.

“Thank you,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks. It was hard for you to comprehend you had people wanting to help you, and you knew they would never be able to understand what it was like for you, but they tried their hardest, and that was the greatest gift you could ask for.

“Can I eat some cake now?” Soap chorused as you laughed, rubbing the back of his head before nestling into Kyle.

[nerdy-novelist017]

Denim (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Smut)

Heyyyy, remember when i did that little poll forever ago and the majority of you guys wanted me to turn the ending into smut? Well, here it is 🤗 I just pray nobody who knows me IRL will read this, but i hope all of YOU guys enjoy this! 🫶

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 2.1k+

Summary- He nearly groaned at the sight of you, all sweet in your soft satin slip with his rough denim jacket dwarfing your small figure.

18+ Minors please do not interact!

******

Benny took a long, slow drag of his cigarette as he watched you from his place on the bed bend over to grab your slip dress from the floor. The trail of clothes leading into his bedroom were the result of his desires and fervor manifested by returning home to your sweet smile. After a particularly rough day with some new members joining the Vandals, his frustrations built and threatened to crack his carefully crafted persona of calm, his entire ride back home was filled with nothing but the dirty thoughts he had of bending you over the kitchen counter and releasing his anger. But upon entering his house, his senses were overwhelmed by the smell of something sweet baking in the oven. He found you standing at the kitchen island, adorning a flour-covered apron overtop one of your pretty little sundresses. You held a spatula in one hand, stirring it into the bowl of what Benny could only assume was batter, and the other was holding open a cookbook on the countertop, finger lightly tracing the words as you mouthed the instructions softly. 

“Hi, honey!” You greeted him with that smile that just seemed to melt away all his aggressions. “I’m baking a pie for tomorrow. I’ve never tried this recipe so I’m making my failsafe too, just in case.”

You were referring to another Vandals meeting happening tomorrow evening. A sickeningly sweet warmth bloomed in his chest and he knew he couldn’t fuck you there like what he’d planned. No, you were so thoughtful and kind. He wanted to make love to you, to show you that he loved you. That’s what you deserved. 

“God, you’re beautiful," he said as he watched the slip fall over your shoulders, gracefully laying over your body like water running over stones, covering your figure down to your mid thigh. 

He leaned his upper half against the headboard, one arm propped behind his head, the sheets pulled noncommittally over his bare hips. From the bed, he could see the blush tinge your nose and cheeks. He loved that he still had that effect on you, it filled him with a sense of pride that his words (among other things) could still garner a physical reaction from you. 

You grinned at him sheepishly. “That’s what I think about you.”

Benny had never been with a woman that called him beautiful before you. Sure, he’d been complimented many times, but called beautiful? That was something only you have ever told him. You found a lot of things beautiful, constantly pointing out flowers on the side of the highway or sunsets on the horizon. He loved seeing the world through your eyes. Sure, he appreciated the sunsets sometimes or your new dresses, but he only found them beautiful when you were on the back of his bike to enjoy the sunset, only thought the flowers were pretty when you placed them in your hair. Beauty was only a concept when you were involved. 

He watched as you began picking up the rest of your clothes, gathering everything in your arms, but then something caught your eye. Discarding the rest of your clothes on the foot of the bed, you bent, giving Benny a generous view of your chest before retrieving the item that gave you pause. 

He glanced down at it in your hands. His Vandals jacket. He quirked a brow as your gaze fluttered back up to his, a flirtatious glint in your eye. You turn from him and move to stand in front of the mirror above the desk. He watches intently as you slowly spin the jacket and bring it around behind you, sliding each hand through at a time before shrugging it over your shoulder. It was several sizes too big on you. Your fingertips barely grazed the ends of each sleeve and the hem of the denim covered your butt. You swiped at your hair trapped beneath the collar as you studied yourself in the reflection. 

You’re eyes locked with him in the mirror and you smiled. “You reckon I could be a Vandal?”

He nearly groaned at the sight of you, all sweet in your soft satin slip with his rough denim jacket dwarfing your small figure. “Bunny, I reckon you could take over that whole damn club tomorrow if you walked in wearing that.”

Your giggle sent a jolt through his stomach and he felt himself grinning like an idiot as he watched you turn from the mirror and do a spin for him. You were just too damn cute. 

“Now, you’re official,” he teased, blowing out a trail of smoke from between his lips, eyes unable to look away from you as you moved back to the bedside. 

“Not quite.” You fixed him with a mischievous look as you crawled onto the bed slowly, sliding a leg over his hips so that you were straddling his lap. “I still need something to ride.”

He smudged the rest of his cigarette out in the ashtray before his hands found the soft flesh of your bare thighs. You planted your palms over his chest and the sensation burned straight through to his heart. He leaned up to capture your lips. “I think I have something you could take for a spin.” 

He swallowed your moan, hands kneading up to your hips where he helped position you over himself. You had never been the one on top before, and your heart pounded at the intimidating idea. But because Benny always seemed to read your thoughts, he said, “It’s okay, baby. Just go slow.” 

Benny’s hands on thighs tightened, helping to guide himself to your entrance and you released a breathy moan of satisfaction when you felt his cock sink into you. He clenched his jaw tightly when you began to move slowly, hesitantly, his rough fingers tracing your soft skin with an almost reverent touch. “Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head momentarily as you rode him.

Though he wanted to remain locked onto you, his eyes couldn’t help but roam over every curve of your beautiful body, illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He marveled at how easily you brought him to his knees, at how you seemed to just control his every thought. When he came home to you standing in the kitchen, so innocent and unassuming, all the day’s frustrations and worries just melted away. You had the power to do that. And now, with you rocking above him, your eyes locked onto his, he felt that very same sensation of awe wash over him again. How did he ever get so lucky?

“You feel so good, Bunny,” he moaned as his head fell back against the pillow, his heart pounding in his ears. “Just–just like that.”

He took one of your hands in his, bringing it up to his face and planting kisses to your palm. With every movement you made, his thoughts spiraled further, his mind becoming hazy. Mine, the word echoed in his head as a fierce and possessive need that both terrified and thrilled him. He had never thought he’d want something so badly in his life, never thought he’d care so much. But here you were, in his bed, in his life, and he was utterly lost in you. Every kiss he pressed to your skin, every touch was a promise – a promise to do anything he could to keep you, to make you happy, to be worthy of you. 

At his praise, you felt confidence bubble within you, and you picked up the pace, driven by the need to please him, your hips grinding into his with a friction that sent electricity straight into your core. The sound of your shared breaths, the squeak of the bed springs both filled the room in a sweet symphony that drove you to the very edge. 

Your name slipped from his lips in a broken, needy sound that made your heart skip a beat. You could feel him straining beneath you, his muscles taut with desire. You leaned forward, your hair falling into a curtain around his face as you pressed a kiss to his jaw, watching as his eyes darkened with fervor, his control slipping. 

His hand slid up your back, beneath the Vandals jacket, pulling you closer, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss that made your head spin. He kissed you like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he was starving for you, his tongue sliding against yours with a hunger that sent waves of heat through your entire body. 

And in typical Benny fashion, he couldn’t relinquish control for long. Without breaking the kiss, he rolled you both over, pinning you beneath him, his weight pressing you into the mattress in a way that caused you to squeal lightly. Not of fear, there was never fear with Benny. He broke the kiss, his mouth moving down to your neck as his hand cupped your breast through your thin nightgown.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice clouded by a possessive rasp as his hand gripped the bare flesh of your thigh, positioning it higher onto his own hip. You responded instantly, wrapping yourself tighter against him. “Every inch of you.”

 Unable to speak, you nodded, your hands moving up to grip his shoulders as he entered you with deep, powerful thrusts that made you cry out in ecstasy. Benny didn’t hold back – he couldn’t – his movements were rough and demanding as he took you, each plunge sending a shockwave through you, a white blinding sensation behind your eyes. The intensity of it was overwhelming, your senses filled with nothing but him – his touch, his scent, the way he filled you completely. 

“Benny, please,” you whimpered, your words almost incoherent as your pleasure built to a peak. 

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling against your overstimulated flesh as his hand came up to interlock with your own, pinning it beside your head. He groaned, “I’ve got you, Bunny . . . I’ve got you.” 

His words were a promise, and they filled you with a warmth that went beyond physicality. And when the wave finally crashed over you, it was all-consuming, your body tightening against his as a cry escaped your lips. Benny wasn’t far behind you, his own release hitting like a storm, and he groaned against your skin, his body shuddering from the force of it. Your vision blurred with euphoria but you grasped onto the way he said your name so softly. 

Benny lowered onto his elbows, laying his upper body slack against yours as his labored breaths filled your ringing ears, his heart pounding against your own chest. For a few moments, you both lay there, each coming down off your passionate high, his hand still tightly wrapped around your own. He pressed a kiss against your temple as he whispered, “You’re everything to me, Bunny. Everything.”

You smiled as you brought your hands up to run through his hair. Benny rarely ever expressed his love in words. I love you, was not an expression he often used. Instead, he found other ways to emphasize his affections. They never ceased to fill you with a sense of belonging that you’ve never felt before. 

As the heat began to cool between you, he eventually pulled out, leaning up onto his elbows again, to gaze down at you with a lazy smile playing on his face. He brushed a strand of your hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek in a gentle caress. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me, Bunny.”

You shot him a teasing grin. “Maybe I have some idea.”

He chuckled, shaking his head before he rolled onto his back beside you, pulling you along with him so that you were draped across his chest. You rested your head there, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat as your breathing slowed. 

After a few moments, Benny spoke up again, his low voice cutting through the comfortable silence. “How about we make a deal?”

You tilted your head up at him, your curiosity piqued. “What kind of a deal?”

His hand slipped beneath the denim jacket again to trace circles along your back as he mused, “Whenever you’re feelin’ low or like you’re not enough . . . you come to me, and I’ll remind you how wrong you are.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest at his words. He knew you struggled with confidence and to hear him wanting to actively help you in whatever way he could . . . well, it just made you love him all that much more. It was impossible not to fall in love with him every day when he said such things to you, when he made you feel like the most precious thing in his world. “And what about you? What if you need reminding?”

His eyes softened as they fluttered over your features. “Then I’ll come to you. You’re the only one who makes me feel like more than I am.” 

You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips, slow and sweet, sealing the promise. “Deal.”

You pulled back, a hint of mischief gleaming in your eyes, and you asked, “Do I have to wear the jacket though?”

He grinned, his arms tightening around you as he pulled you into him even closer. “Definitely.”

-Tag List-

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[pedroscowgirl]

Hi sweetheart🫶🏻🤍

I was wondering if you could do a Hugh Jackman x kind! fem reader, where he's having a tiring day and comes back home. You've cooked him a nice dinner and made pumpkin spiced cinnamon rolls for desert🫶🏻He appreciates the settlement and wants to give something back, but it was his night.

I love your fics bbg <3

A warm fall night

Hugh jackman x fem!reader

Warnings: smut/fluff, minors dni!

P in v (wrap it up guys), creampie, oral m!receiving, couch sex , slight mention of alcohol (not too much), reader has hair lmk if I forgot something🙏🏼

masterlist

A/n: hi bb! Thank you sm for always supporting me! 🫶🏻 sorry it took so long, but I hope u like this💋

The door to your home creaked open softly, and you heard the familiar shuffle of shoes against the doormat as Hugh stepped inside. The late evening sun cast an orange glow through the windows, but the air carried the first crisp hints of autumn. You glanced up from the kitchen counter, already knowing by the way he moved that it had been a long day. His shoulders were hunched with exhaustion, and the usual spark in his eyes had dimmed.

“Hey,” you greeted warmly, putting down the dish towel and walking over to him. “You’re home.”

Hugh turned toward you, his smile small but genuine. “Yeah. Finally,” he said, his deep voice gravelly with fatigue. He placed his bag by the door and kicked off his shoes, letting out a heavy breath. He looked so worn down, and all you wanted was to make sure he left his troubles at the door tonight.

“You look tired honey” you observed softly, reaching up to smooth your hand across his arm in a comforting gesture.

“Long day. I feel like I’ve been running on fumes,” he admitted, leaning into your touch. “But it’s better now.” His eyes found yours, full of gratitude already.

“Well, I thought you might need something nice to come home to,” you said, guiding him toward the kitchen table. “Sit down and relax. I made your favourite." He sat down and looked up at you,"you are my favourite"

Hugh looked at the food and raised a brow, and a slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips despite his tiredness. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“Of course I did,” you replied with a soft laugh. “You’ve been working so hard lately, I wanted to make sure you could unwind tonight.”

The table was set simply but beautifully, with candles flickering in the center and a hearty meal waiting for him. Grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and buttery mashed potatoes, comfort food at its finest. You placed a glass of red wine in front of him, watching as he took it all in. He looked touched, almost overwhelmed for a moment.

“This looks incredible,” he murmured, eyes flicking back to you. “I can’t tell you how much I needed this.”

“You don’t have to,” you said, smiling as you sat down across from him. “Just enjoy it.”

As Hugh dug into the meal, you could see the tension start to leave his body. Each bite seemed to relax him a little more, and you felt a sense of satisfaction just watching him unwind. It was rare for him to take a moment for himself; he was always giving so much to everyone else, always on the go. Tonight, though, you were determined to make sure he felt appreciated.

After a while, you cleared the plates and returned to the kitchen, a playful grin on your face. “I hope you saved some room,” you called over your shoulder.

“For what?” Hugh asked, leaning back in his chair, his interest piqued.

You turned around, holding a tray of pumpkin spiced cinnamon rolls, the golden-brown swirls drizzled with a light glaze, still warm from the oven. The sweet scent of cinnamon and nutmeg filled the air, instantly making the room feel cozier.

His eyes widened as you set the tray down on the table. “You made these? You’ve been busy.”

“Just wanted to make sure dessert was special too,” you said, sliding one of the rolls onto a plate and handing it to him. “Pumpkin spice is perfect this time of year, don’t you think?”

Hugh chuckled, taking a bite and closing his eyes in pure enjoyment. “You’re spoiling me tonight,” he said, his voice filled with warmth. “These are amazing.”

You sat down next to him, watching him enjoy the dessert, your heart swelling with affection. There was something so satisfying about knowing you’d given him a bit of comfort after such a hard day.

Hugh took your hand across the table, his fingers gently tracing patterns on the back of your palm. “I don’t know how you do it,” he said softly. “You always seem to know exactly what I need.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you replied, smiling as you squeezed his hand. “Tonight’s all about you. You give so much of yourself to everyone, I just wanted to make sure you get a little something back.”

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb brushing gently against your skin as he looked at you with a deep sense of appreciation. “You don’t know how much that means to me. I’m so lucky to have you.”

You could see it in his eyes, the weariness fading, replaced by something softer, more relaxed. He had needed this—a night to feel cared for, a night where he didn’t have to be “on” or worry about anyone else.

After dessert, you led him over to the couch, the soft glow of the candles still flickering in the background as you settled down beside him. He stretched out, pulling you into his arms, and you both melted into the cushions, the warmth of the evening wrapping around you.

“This,” Hugh said quietly, his arm draped over your shoulders as you leaned into him, “is perfect. I feel like I haven’t had a chance to just... be in a while.”

You nestled closer, your head resting on his chest as you listened to the steady beat of his heart. “You deserve it. No need to do anything tonight. Just relax.”

Hugh chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know it’s supposed to be my night, but I can’t help it. I want to give something back.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, smiling. “You being here is more than enough.”

But he wasn’t having it. Gently, he shifted, pulling you on his lap and his lips found yours in a soft, lingering kiss. When he pulled back, his voice was low and sincere. “You make everything better, you know that?”

You shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the warmth of his body beneath yours. As you moved, you could feel him growing beneath you, the subtle shift in his breath giving him away. His hands instinctively tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as you began to gently grind against him, your movements slow and deliberate.

A soft groan escaped his lips, his head falling back as he gave in to the sensation, eyes fluttering closed. The way he responded to you, completely immersed, sent a thrill through your body. You reveled in the control you held, the connection building between you.

But just as the heat began to build, you slowly pulled away, rising from his lap with a teasing smile playing at the corners of your lips. His eyes opened, clouded with desire as he watched your every move. Without breaking the gaze, you reached down, undoing the button of his pants, your fingers deft and patient.

You freed him gently, your touch light and careful, feeling the weight of the moment between you. You knelt before him, your lips finding his dick.

Each sound he made, each quiet groan or sharp intake of breath—spurred you on, filling the room with a charged energy. His hand flew to your hair, his fingers tangled in the strands as he guided you with barely perceptible movements, letting you set the pace. Every motion was filled with deliberate care, a mixture of affection and desire growing stronger between you.

You could feel the tension in his body mounting, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. His breathing became heavier, ragged with anticipation, and you knew he was close. His hips bucked slightly, and the warmth of his body against you sent a wave of satisfaction coursing through you. You could sense him nearing the edge, so you quickened your pace, eager to give him everything he wanted.

But then, just as his breathing hitched and his grip in your hair tightened, he suddenly stopped you. His hand slid from your hair to your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, your breath catching as you realized how close he was. A soft whine escaped your lips, the loss of contact leaving you yearning for more, but his gaze, dark and full of desire, held you in place.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, thick with need. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making you shiver in anticipation. “I want you to ride me, babygirl.”

The way he said it, so calm yet commanding, sent a thrill through you. You bit your lip, a flush of heat rising in your chest as your mind raced. Without a word, you nodded and took your pants off, a smile playing on your lips as you shifted your weight and moved to straddle him. His hands immediately found your waist, guiding you into position, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that made your pulse quicken.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, the feeling of him beneath you igniting every nerve in your body. His low groan vibrated through the air, and you felt his grip tighten as you sank down fully, taking him in. For a moment, you stayed still, letting the intensity of the connection settle between you both. The room was filled with quiet breaths and the electric hum of anticipation, each of you lost in the feeling of the other.

His hands slid from your waist up your sides, fingers grazing your skin as he urged you to move. You began to roll your hips, slowly at first, finding a rhythm that matched the deep, unspoken connection between you. His head fell back against the couch, his eyes closing as he let out a soft, guttural moan. The way he reacted to your every movement, the way his body responded so naturally to yours, only encouraged you to go further.

As you moved, your hands found his chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles beneath his shirt. The friction, the closeness—it all felt so perfect, like the two of you were made for this moment. His hands never left your body, guiding you, lifting you, as you moved together in sync. His breath was ragged now, his voice low and strained as he whispered your name, filling the space between groans of pleasure.

The pace quickened, and the tension between you built with every movement, each of you caught in a loop of need and desire. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer, urging you on. Your bodies moved in perfect unison, your breath mingling with his, the closeness of it all making your heart race.

Your pace quickened even more as you felt him tense beneath you, his grip on you becoming almost desperate. His groans grew louder, and you knew he was close again—this time, you weren’t going to stop. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his, your lips barely brushing his as you whispered, “I’ love you.”

With that, everything between you seemed to reach its peak. His body responded to yours in perfect rhythm, and together you chased your realease, both completely enveloped in the heat of each other. "I love you to sweetheart. So much.."he moaned as he came into you.

The rest of the night was spent in quiet bliss, the two of you wrapped in each other’s presence. Hugh’s exhaustion slowly faded as the night wore on, replaced by a calm contentment. For once, he wasn’t thinking about work or responsibilities, just you, and the warmth of the home you had created together.

As you both drifted off into sleep, tangled in each other’s arms, you couldn’t help but feel that tonight had been exactly what he needed. A reminder that no matter how hard the world was on him, there was always a place for him to rest, always a place where he was cherished. And that place was with you.

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[hedgehog-moss]

hi! i’ve been following you for years, silently in awe of the bright & fulfilling life you’ve built for yourself, and wishing that i could do the same. in between all the charming stories about pandolf & pampe & pirlouit i’ve been noting all your experiences with fence building and foraging and whatnot, in the hopes of putting them to use one day. and that day is today !! today i head out to spend the first night at my little cabin, a long-abandoned seter from the late 19th century, so right now life will be very much like camping with a roof. a lot of work to be done, and it will be a while before i can support animal friends in addition to myself, but i just wanted to say thank you for sharing your life with us! it’s been an invaluable resource + source of inspiration for me :))

Oh that's amazing!! I'm so happy for you 😊 I wish I could send you a housewarming gift (might I interest you in a gremlin cup?)

Your "camping with a roof" comment reminds me of my first spring & summer here, when there was nothing in my kitchen except a table with a small backpacking stove and I had no means of heating the house so I made a fire in the wood oven at night and had to compete with the cats to sit in the 1 square metre of warmth right next to it. They're good memories too, so I hope you enjoy these early days of getting to know your home and working on it <3

I wish you all the best, and especially that you get to feel the "brooding sense of peace and of possession" described by Kenneth Grahame in this quote about a dream home:

First, there would be a sense of snugness, of cushioned comfort, of home-coming. Next, a gradual awakening to consciousness in a certain little room, very dear and familiar [...]: solitary, the world walled out, but full of a brooding sense of peace and of possession. [...] I was there already, ensconced in the most comfortable chair in the world, the lamp lit, the fire glowing ruddily. [A]lways the same feeling of a home-coming, of the world shut out, of the ideal encasement. On the shelves were a few books—a very few—but just the editions I had sighed for […]. On the walls were a print or two, a woodcut, an etching—not many. […] All was modest [...] but all was my very own, and, what was more, everything in that room was exactly right.

[munsster]

sober thoughts

A/N: who let the WIPs out? 🙈 nah….. i was gonna continue but….. that was so corny. anyway, i am back from the hiatus No One saw coming. enjoy <3 (gif creds: @raiderlucy)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x GN!Reader

Summary: If drunk words are sober thoughts, Steve sure is talkative when he’s had a few. 1.3k words

Warnings: fluff, drunk/high steve, pet names (puppy, sweetheart, baby), mutual pining, cursing

It's New Year's, and you find Steve all starry eyed and bubbly in the center of a stranger's kitchen. You know exactly where to find him 'cause he always tells you the kitchen is the best place to hear the music without the fuss of the party. His hair's all tousled and you're pretty sure he lost the top button of his shirt somewhere. You can see the dainty chain looped round his neck in the warm light. The one you gave him.

You catch his eye, and suddenly he's grabbing for your hips like he can't balance without them. He's definitely been smoking with the way his smile reaches his eyes before anything else. Any other night, he would've stayed sober, but you promised to get him and Robin home safely before he could beat you to the punch.

He's hot like an oven up close. All pink in the cheeks and warm at the temples. You push his hair our of his eyes and squint up at him.

"Hi, puppy," you coo. His fingers press a little harder into your soft skin on impulse. Some kind of nonessential reflex or something, but it feels so essential holding onto you like this.

"I like that." The endearment, your eyes right now, the way you're holding his bicep, this song. "I like you."

He dies when you chuckle.

"I like you, too, sweetheart." But he knows you don't mean it like that. Not like how he means it. Everyday he's reminded you like him as a friend. And everyday he's reminded that he likes you as something much more and much less attainable.

Robin tells him it’s noble to play the long game, but in all honesty, he's not sure he's playing any game at all. If you like him one day, hallelujah, it's a goddamn miracle, but if you never like him like that, then that's it and he'll still be your number one admirer forever. Even if that means admiring you from afar.

Still, he whines about it: "You don't get it." You roll your eyes with a lighthearted smile. He's high. But to Steve, that doesn't matter. What matters is the way you let him look at you. He leans a little closer, brings his hand to the side of your neck. On instinct, his lips pucker a little and he bats his long lashes at you.

You put a pause on him with your hand to his chest.

"I'm not gonna kiss you while you're drunk. And high," you tease. You almost feel bad with the way he pouts, his hair all over the place even after pushing it out of his eyes.

“Why not? It’s New Years!”

“Yeah, an hour and a half ago.”

“Well. You kissed Robin, and I kissed no one.” And you think he’s laying it on real thick, playing into the bit for a little too long. You might even suggest it’s less of a bit now and suddenly something much more real and grating.

“Poor baby,” you coo, frowning sweetly in response to his more dramatic frown.

“Yeah. Poor baby. Nobody cares about baby.” Steve huffs like a discontented horse.

“I care about baby.”

“Then kiss me,” he whines.

“You’re inebriated.”

“No, actually. I’m sober as can be, I’ve got no juice in me at all.”

You try and act surprised but you both know he chugged and crushed four beer cans just to impress you. And that was when you first arrived several hours ago. You’re more impressed he hasn’t hurled, yet.

“Steve, I’m only not kissing you because I care. You must know that,” you sigh with your hands gliding easily back over his shoulders, fingers taken with the soft nape of his neck. The warm clasp of his chain.

“Ugh”—he rolls his glassy eyes, grumbling—“o’course I know that. In fact, it’s very thoughtful of you. Doesn’t mean I like it.”

You wish he didn’t seem so sad saying it like that. You wish it didn’t make you so sad to hear it said. Of course, he knows that. Steve is the sweetest, most considerate guy you’ve ever known, and those big, brown eyes are to die for even when they’re a little pink around the edges.

What really matters is that when he looks at you, your heart races like someone’s betting it’s the fastest. It beats even faster at the possibility that his ‘crush’ on you isn’t a joke. That it hasn’t been this whole time. That maybe his feelings are real and that would mean they’re reciprocated.

“Okay, fine, I’ll kiss you.”

Steve assumes the position almost immediately: puckered lips fighting a smile, eyes pinched closed, fingers subconsciously pulling your hips towards him.

You hook around to kiss the apple of his cheek. He groans, setting his heavy head on your shoulder. You pat his back, resting your temple against his peachy ear.

“You can have your kiss if you still want it sober.” At that, he lifts his head, and with it goes a presumptuous eyebrow.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been wanting it sober since I was thirteen. Don’t think that’s gonna change overnight.” He states it like it’s a fact of life; what an idiot! He wasn’t supposed to say it like that! He had planned on some totally romantic picnic or late night drive or some extravagant, life-altering, near-death-experience to set the mood. Anything but at the very beginning of a new year, intoxicated in every sense of the word.

“Steve!” You holler, “Since thirteen?!”

“Well, duh! You just have zero googoo eyes radar. I make ‘em all the time at you,” he says, shrugging it off. But you can only imagine thirteen-year-old Stevie waiting for the bottle to point to you, only for it to skip you every lousy turn. And thirteen-year-old you somehow jinxing the rotation of the bottle. No matter how hard you willed it to choose you, it never did. Not for Stevie.

“Well… stop that!”

He chuckles. “You can’t make me.”

You’ve never been more nervous talking to Steve. You’re so nervous, you can’t even remember when it used to be easy. His eyes are locked with yours, big and shiny and so brown and wide and soft. Windows to the soul, eh?

“You are so plastered,” you scoff. Who says he can peer into your soul. You divert him to the ceiling instead, knuckles to his strong chin.

Steve shakes his head. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes everything,” you look at him to find a painfully familiar lopsided smile. “It changed everything.”

He tilts his head. Sweetly. Mischievous as ever, but sweet.

“So, you’ll kiss me tomorrow?”

You sigh. “Only if you ask nicely tomorrow.”

“Fine!”

What you don’t expect is for him to run out of the room. There’s muffled shouting, the slam of a door, a triumphant ‘yes’, and a beat of silence before he returns, scuttling across the floor, sharpie in hand.

One of his shirt sleeves is pushed to the elbow. Across his forearm is a smattering of permanent black ink.

“What’s this?” you coo as he excitedly presents his arm to you.

“It’s a reminder.”

Looking closer at the ink splotches, you can just barely make out the message: Ask nicely, coward. You squint up at him, trying your hardest not to giggle.

“It’s a threat and a reminder,” he chirps, brows raised, eyes wide, chest pounding. He thinks you look happy, smiling as you smack his chest.

“You’re really hopeless, yunno that?”

You could call him as many names as you wanted, he’d take them all as endearments. As long as you keep teasing him with promises of sober kisses and your hands in his hair.

He nods, “Now call me your puppy again.”

stranger things masterlist

[togrowoldinv]

Meteors

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When you start working on the Barton’s farm, you meet Natasha

Note: It’s been wayyy too long since I’ve been able to make time to write. Hope y’all enjoy this Nat fluff!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

Natasha watches from the front porch as a truck she’s unfamiliar with pulls up in the driveway. Just when she’s about to go ask Laura if she had any idea who was arriving, the woman steps out onto the porch.

“Right on time,” Laura comments mostly to herself.

“Who’s this?” Natasha asks, her attention is piqued.

“The new farmhand,” Laura explains. “She’s been working here every week for about a month now. Clint didn’t tell you?”

Nat shakes her head.

“Well, she’s pretty great at it,” the older woman continues. “Come meet her.”

Natasha follows Laura down the steps and to the truck. You are unloading a bale of hay from the bed of the truck when they walk up.

“Hello!” Laura greets you. She’s always so kind. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” you reply before turning around to actually see her. “How are you?”

You drop the bale onto the group and turn to see more than one person standing there.

“Oh hi,” you say to the new person. She politely lifts the corners of her lips, but doesn’t quite smile at you.

“This is Nat,” Laura says. “Nat, this is y/n.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you say, holding your hand out for her shake. She takes it in hers and the eye contact you make lingers.

“Oh, I forgot I have cookies in the oven,” Laura says. “I’ll be back. Nat why don’t you get to know y/n a bit.”

With that, Laura leaves you there with this beautiful stranger. God, she really is beautiful. You both stand there a little awkwardly before you make a move to talk to her more.

“So, how do you know the Bartons?” You ask.

“I work with Clint,” Nat says. You try not to let yourself go weak in the knees at hearing her voice for the first time. “You’re probably familiar with what we do.”

“Partially,” you say with a soft laugh. “I better get started for the day. I’ll see you around?”

Nat nods and walks back towards the house. You work the rest of the day with Natasha on your mind. She had uttered barely ten words to you, and yet you can’t get her out of your head.

A few days go by before you see her again. It’s early in the morning when you arrive. Natasha is sitting in a rocking chair with baby Nate in her arms. You walk to the porch to say hello.

“Good morning,” you greet her.

“Good morning, y/n,” she says. You try memorize the way your name sounds coming from her lips.

“He’s up early,” you comment.

“Yeah, a little too early. I offered to hang out with him while Clint and Laura sleep in,” Nat replies.

You smile at that.

“You’re here earlier today,” Nat says. You try not to overanalyze why she knows your schedule so well. It’s probably just the spy in her, you think.

“I am indeed. The cows need some extra work today, so I got here early,” you explain. “Come on out to pasture if you get bored. I’ll be there all day.”

“I just might do that,” Natasha replies.

You get a boost of confidence from her words. After you bid her a farewell for now, you drive out to the cattle field.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Barton family wakes up. The kids eat breakfast and start chores. Clint asks Nat to help him with some outside work.

A few hours go by and Laura calls everyone in for lunch. Natasha looks around the kitchen for you, but she doesn’t see you.

“Is y/n eating with us?” She asks.

“She likes to stay out there and work, so I usually take her some food after we eat,” Laura explains. She tries to read Nat’s expression. “You could take it to her today if you want.”

“Oh, sure. Yeah I can do that,” Nat says.

Laura smiles knowingly. The family eats and then Natasha makes her way to you.

At the sight of you wrangling cows, she can’t help but smile. You’ve shed the light jacket you were wearing this morning and she can see how strong you are.

“Oh hey, Natasha!” You say once you see her.

“Hey,” she replies, her head cocked to the side a little to examine your current position. “Do I even want to know what you’re doing?”

“Probably not,” you reply. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Lunch,” Nat says. “Laura’s famous grilled cheese.”

You walk away from the cows and towards Natasha. She stands by the truck, so you open the tailgate and sit on it. You pat the area next to you as a way to ask her to sit.

She hands you the lunch bag and lightly blushes when your hand touches hers.

“Thank you, Nat,” you say. “Wait, do you prefer Nat or Natasha?”

“Either one,” she says, shrugging. “Technically my name isn’t Natasha, but I’ve always gone by that.”

“That is a fun fact,” you say. Nat laughs. You try to memorize the sound. “I like Natasha.”

“Then call me Natasha,” she says.

There’s a silence, but it’s not awkward. You eat your sandwich and watch the animals move around the farm. You wonder what Natasha is thinking about as she swings her legs and sits next to you.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” the redhead breaks the silence. “I feel like I can actually think and be free.”

“Yeah, I love it. Being out on a farm is my comfort place. So far, this one is my favorite,” you say.

“Why’s that?”

“The people. Clint, Laura, the kids,” you say. “And you.”

“I’m already a reason?”

“You were a reason I love this place the second I met you,” you say. You didn’t mean for it to come across so cheesily, but Nat doesn’t seem to mind. “Hey, how long are you staying here for?”

“A few more weeks maybe,” Natasha says. “Why?”

“In two weeks there’s supposed to be a meteor shower. Maybe we could come out in the field and watch it together?”

“Sounds fun,” Nat says, trying to act casual.

“I better get back to helping Clint. He’ll be pissed I let him stack bricks alone.”

You chuckle at her words. You want to ask her to stay, but at least you know you’ll be seeing her around.

And from that point on, Natasha brings you lunch every day. Laura doesn’t even have to ask her to do it. Nat wants to. She seems to sit with you longer and longer each day.

It all leads up to the night of the meteor shower. You wear a nice shirt and jeans and drive over to the farm.

When you knock on the door, Lila answers. You greet the family and have dinner with them. Natasha is in her element here. You can see how she lights up around the kids. And she loves watching you interact with them too.

Once dinner is over, you and Natasha sneak outside. You drive out to the field and lay a blanket down in the bed of the truck.

“Very fancy,” Nat comments.

“Only the best for you, Natasha,” you joke. “Laying down is the best way to see it.”

You both lie down a respectable distance from each other, but close enough that you both have butterflies.

“You know when I was a kid, I loved anything that glowed in the sky,” Nat opens up. “Stars, planets, and things that didn’t even really have to do with the sky. Like fireflies.”

“That’s really sweet, Natasha. I love those too,” you say. “There’s so many out here in the summer.”

“I wish I saw them more.”

“You’ve gotta move out here I guess,” you say. “Oh look!”

You point to the first meteor falling. Nat watches with bright eyes. You can’t drag your eyes away from the way she glows in the night light. Her green eyes are illuminated by the scene happening in the sky.

Natasha turns her head to the side and catches you staring.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking away a bit.

“Don’t be,” Nat says. “But you are missing the show up there.”

“It’s fun to watch you watch it,” you say. “You’re beautiful, you know?”

Natasha definitely blushes at that. Her hand finds yours between the two of you. You’re it sure who leans in first, but you end up just centimeters from her lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Natasha asks.

“Please,” you reply.

The distance is shattered between the two of you. Natasha’s kiss is soft, but firm. Her intentions are clear as she moves her perfect lips over yours.

“Now we’re both missing the show up there,” Natasha jokes when she pulls away.

“So worth it,” you say.

You kiss Natasha again. And again. And a few more times before you decide to go back to the house.

“I’ll see you in the morning?” You ask her once you’ve walked up to the front door together.

“Yes,” Natasha says. “Thanks for tonight, y/n. I haven’t enjoyed myself this much in a long time.”

“Anytime, Natasha. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she says.

You hug her for the first time and love the way she feels in your arms. It’s like she is perfectly shaped to be in your grasp.

You share a brief kiss before you let her go inside. As you walk back to the truck, you can’t help but do a little happy dance. Natasha watches through the window and laughs.

This is the start of something amazing. You can feel it.

You’re falling for her faster than the meteors fell in the sky. Little do you know, she’s falling for you in the exact same way.