#a laundry bag with both wheels and a handle

[dicketysplit]

friends, I have treated myself to a tefal food chopper

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 14

banner by @/cafekitsune

Summary: Rory and Price come home and have to finally face the worst argument of their relationship (AKA the chapter in which they have angry sex)

Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI - smut, p in v sex, hand jobs, back shots, unprotected sex, swearing, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship dynamic, John Price needs his own warning

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 6.2 K

A/N: this smut is probably not the sexiest considering it hops back and forth between fighting and fucking but its necessary for character development or whatever...

[AO3]

November 5, 2019 - Fulham, London, UK

The car ride – just like the flight back home – had been quiet. Thick with tension, a blast door holding them back from tearing into one another. Sitting parked outside her townhouse, Rory held the wheel within her grip and rested her chin upon the top of it, staring out the windshield at nothing in particular with narrowed eyes. Her stomach groaned and the nervous pangs gnawed at her. There was an uneasy storm settling overhead, black clouds sinking down around her, the static electric flicker on her skin of lightning building. Pressing her forehead to the wheel, she hugged the column. Something sturdy. Locked in place. Clinging to it so she wasn’t torn away and flung about, forced to face the hurricane pounding on her skull. She already knew staying in the vehicle, sitting in place, it wasn’t feasible. She was going to have to face him at some point. Face the hard jaw, the piercing gaze – the barely hidden disappointment he had in her would be a bitter pill to swallow. Things had never been like this between them before and she was more terrified of the consequences now than when she had walked away to begin with.

The creak of brakes as his SUV parked behind her made her heart freeze. There was no getting away from him now. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door of her Range Rover and stepped out, grabbing her bag from the boot and swinging it over her shoulder, refusing to glance his way. Not quite ready to face the music. Carrying herself with all the confidence she mustered when facing down the enemy, head held high, an appealing aplomb that came to her naturally but in this instance felt more like she was some prancing show pony. Struck by the cigar smoke that invaded her senses with the force Price was known for on a mission, the hair raised on her arms and the back of her neck. The sharp sting of invisible shackles burned on her wrists. Even if she could escape him, he was always all around her, impossible to ignore. Clinging to her, rooted inside, tendrils spreading. Razor wire marking the borders of where the parts of her life and John’s were growing attached. She fumbled with the keys in the door, and the large, steadying hand she knew so well – the one that could stroke her back, push her out of the way of gunfire, or give her a smack on the arse when she was being cheeky – simply reached past her and took control as he was so often wont to do. Gripping her hand like an extension of himself, he turned the key in the lock without another word. Her nervous system sparking as he loomed behind her, his weight pressed up against her. Routine. She followed it to the letter to keep her steady. Coat and shoes off, keys in the bowl by the door, scoop the mail off the floor, bring her bag upstairs and dump it by the hamper for laundry duty. She would need a shower to wash off the grime, to clear her head and get the words right, a conversation like this was going to be one that she already knew would lead into an argument, especially if John had his way – ready to fly off the handle and bring her right along with him. They could both get a little too passionate, trapped in a wildfire, the back and forth of heated words until one had the upper hand and the licking flames could finally be extinguished with a romp in the sheets. 

Rory remained silent, too silent. Defiantly so. Granting Price the cold shoulder as her jaw clenched with bitter words that wanted to spit from her venomously, but swallowed them down like poison instead. A putrefaction inside a gut that had held on to so many unspoken, spiteful words for days as the shower beat down against her. The patter of water on tiles like the ticking hands of a clock waiting for her to finally explode and devour them both in a wave of fury that flooded her thoughts. Despite the harrying assault of insults she was ready to lob like grenades, she persisted. Maintaining her calm, her control. The patience of a sniper – of a goddamn saint, at this point – she ignored the creak of the wood floor outside the bathroom door, whining under the weight of the man who expected people to break, to give in or give up. 

Fog barely obscured Price’s shadowed frame as he stood outside the stall, awaiting her, believing his penance paid. He was the looming presence in her life that she had allowed to darken parts of her that she was unaware could be corrupted so readily. The lamb sacrificed to make way for the wolf he had been luring out for years, tearing itself free of its woolen, innocent exterior and allowed to bear itself in all its decadent ferocity having found its mated pair. 

“You gonna talk t’me again, love?” He asked in a low rumble, his own frustration setting in as he crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight between his feet. It wasn’t like her to bring her work home with her, but this instance had stuck. There was a shift in the paradigm. It twisted at her, digging into her whole belief system and choking the life from it like brambles. Her father’s words echoing in her head: a poor influence. He wasn’t wrong. She had forgone everything her mother and father had instilled in her – protecting others, helping them at their lowest. It was unforgivable. Her heart squeezed in her chest at the loss of what she was becoming. 

Scouring at her scalp with her fingers, she built up a frothy foam of bubbles in her hair – the lightest thing that existed on her shoulders at the moment. Working her jaw as she relented and finally spoke, “Eventually.”

The tension in her voice was palpable, the anger a very real force that lifted its ugly head as much as she tried to bury it. Her usual go-to of slapping on a smile and pretending as though she didn’t have a care in the world wasn’t holding, the exterior long since shattered as much as her will was as she came to terms with what she had been capable of. “This is ‘cause of the interrogation, isn’t it?” John’s voice remained firm, unapologetic in his requirements for the mission. She sighed, dipping her head back under the water, letting it cascade over her, washing her sins away and restoring her resolve as the soap circled the drain. Opening the glass door, steam poured out in a cloud around her, turning the air around them hot and oppressive as she stared him down with a glare that brooked no argument. “It’s not the interrogation – I've done a million of those. It’s the fact that I was made to cross a very real line I have set for myself. One – my darling,” the term of endearment having lost its sentimentality as she spat it out, “You are very well aware of. I don’t hurt children –”

“You didn’t,” Price interrupted, giving her a little shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t harm him or the wife.”

“Christ, are you listening to yourself, John?” Rory snarled. “Didn’t harm him?” She snatched the towel from the bar beside the shower and wrapped it around herself quickly. “He’s going to be bloody traumatized having been kidnapped and forced to witness his life, and the ones of those he loves, being threatened.” Wiping her arm across the bathroom mirror, clearing it of the film of mist, glancing at him through it, their eyes met in a battle of wills through a plane of glass. “We may as well have signed him up to join AQ ourselves – certainly gave the poor little bastard enough of a reason to do so.” Rory sighed, shaking her head as she gripped the edge of the sink counter. “We are going to be the enemy to him for the rest of his life after what we did. A very real monster under the bed… and maybe he’s fucking right.” She glanced over her shoulder, her furrowed brow held tight along with the purse of her lips in an angry pout, staring at the man she loved, not quite sure what sort of answer she expected from him at that moment. 

Rubbing at the back of his neck, his steely gaze locked on hers, trapped in a tug of war between the two sides of himself. One, The Captain, who did whatever it took, whether savory in his actions or not. A mindset trained into him to put the mission first, no matter the cost. The other, John Price, the man who loved the woman stood before him, who tried to be a better man for her.

“You know that’s what it takes, Ror. This fight is never gonna be pretty, it’s never gonna be clean. Blood on our hands, it’s what we do – I know you know that. It’s nothing new to either of us.” The muscle in his jaw clenched, a reminder of the hidden savagery he wore buried beneath his rugged features. “You’re angrier with yourself than you are with me. Don’t try and deny it. Worried about pissin’ off your father, betrayin’ some vision he has o’you. – and maybe you are, but he can sod off.” Before she could argue, Price stepped forward, collecting her chin and holding her steady in his grasp, the calloused pad of his thumb drifting tenderly over her plump lower lip, freezing her like a deer in the headlights. “Might make us monsters,” he whispered in a husk, “But we do the bad things so that the rest of the world only deals in the good. And, speaking for myself at least,” his voice hoarse with the admiration he held for her, head tipping to the side as he offered her a sly smirk, “Feel a little less like one when I’ve got you with me.” Her eyes closed, sighing heavily, as he pressed his forehead to hers, tipping her chin upwards to meet him in a searing kiss, apologies in each press of his lips against hers without ever uttering the actual words – he was far too stubborn a man to ever concede openly.

Pulling back, the fire still burned in his blue eyes, the torrid desire turning a sensual kiss into something more primal. His hand gently stroked her jaw down to her throat as if she were made of porcelain – despite the danger he willingly let her be thrown into – with him, there alway seemed to be that fear he might break her, that he was forced to be gentle. 

“I might ask you to cross some lines, but you know I'd never make you do something that’d harm you, darlin’.” His voice kept low, an insidious purr, as his mouth traveled down the smooth column of her neck, his whiskers rasping against her flesh still slick from her shower. “You know I’ll always take care of you, my girl,” he murmured against her pulse. Rory’s hands curled around the counter of the sink, her knuckles shifting from red to white as she leaned her weight against it. The backs of her thighs pressed against the cool edge, her head rolling back granting him full access to her throat with a quiet moan. 

She hated this, the anger that still welled inside her, the way he denied her side of things. One of his worst flaws was his belief that he was always right, despite the evidence before him. She hated that he could make her feel so goddamn docile sometimes, so obedient. His good girl.

Price’s firm hand on her hip held her in place with an unyielding grip. Fingers kneading at soft, smooth flesh under the towel, dug in to leave a claiming bruise upon her. His body – heavy, dominating – was an iron embrace that never let go. 

“Christ, John,” she mewled, her arm coiling around the back of his neck, fingers splayed through short, cropped brown hair as his teeth scraped gently along her skin. A shiver coursed down her spine, the humid warmth of the bathroom doing little to prevent the goosebumps that scattered her body in the wake of his touch. 

A low chuckle rumbled from deep within him, vibrating against her. The surge of lust was undeniable, a force that pulled them together like two magnets. Gently grasping her wrist, he moved Rory’s hand away from his hair and guided it towards his stiff member, throbbing with want, strained against the material of his pants. "You and me, Rory," he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire as she cupped him over the material, her fingertips gently caressing the outline of his bulge. "Trust in me, that’s all you’ve ever had to do." “You know I trust you, that’s the bloody problem,” she snarked while unbuttoning his pants, zipping down the fly with a fervor that was a testament to the devotion she held for him, one that had never faded after two years together and the crucible of bullshit they had faced throughout their careers. The anger still simmering inside her, just below the surface fueling the lust in equal measure as she tore his pants down his thighs. 

Cock springing free, he was eager to have her. Taking a deep, ragged breath, he pulled back slightly. "Look at me," he commanded softly, insistently. His darkened gaze daring her to deny him anything. “You can be angry with me all you like. Won’t change a damn thing, and you know that. This is our job, Rory.”

Hazel depths burned like the embers at the end of one of her cigarettes, holding within them a mix of rage and ardor as she glared at him. Swallowing thickly, her back to a wall, knowing full well this was what the man she was in love with was capable of, and always had been. Dangerous – confidently so – wielding power and secrets without a hint of a question in his purpose and with no remorse.

"C’mere,” his command dripped with authority, laced liberally with carnal desire. Claiming her mouth once again, he took what belonged to him. His hand slid through her damp hair, carding his fingers. Grasping her chin, tender in his touch, he intensified the kiss. Their bodies pressed against each other, a declaration of their unbridled hunger.

Heart pounding in her chest, each rhythm matched the pulse between her fingers as they encircled the thick of him. The gentle friction of her soft palm against his hardness, the warmth of her hand enveloping him as he thrusted slowly, deliberately into her grip, bucking his hips with the same control over his body he showed on the battlefield. 

His breathing became rough as she tightened her hold, eliciting a low groan from deep within him. "That's it, love," he rasped, panting as his forehead pressed against her own, watching her hand pump against him in a fist. Gaze rolling up to fix on hers, whimpering with need, he searched for the reassurance he craved from her, to know that she was his entirely.

Eyes darkening with her own arousal, they reflected equal intensity in the black depths of her blown out pupils. Chest and cheeks left flushed in the same rosy shade as her pebbled nipples.

Thrusting harder, he reached up to cup her face. The calloused pads of his fingers brushed against her cheekbones and traced the curve of her jawline, his thumb stroking the edge of her lower lip, watching as her mouth opened slightly in response to his touch.

"Kiss me, Rory," he demanded gruffly, his voice husky with desire. 

Both needed the connection more than oxygen, breath hitching as their lips finally met and their spark so easily ignited. The kiss – deep, mirroring the carnal heat that radiated between them like white phosphorus, impossible to be extinguished. 

His hips continued to move, driving into her hand with a hunger that threatened to consume him, a hunger that was never truly sated when it came to her no matter how many times they laid together. Breaking the kiss moments later, his breath came in ragged gasps. "I need you," his voice a rough whisper. "Now."

Quick to grab the underside of her thighs, scooping her up into his arms, he lifted her onto the countertop, the cold sting of marble biting at her once more. Slotting himself between her thighs, his own muscular ones kept her spread wide open for him and with a quick move of his hand, her towel fell away and Rory was bared to him in all her glory. 

Large, meaty hands roamed over her supple skin scented with the subtle perfume of her vanilla body wash and he nuzzled in against her neck and wet locks of hair, luxuriating as he breathed her in, unable to get enough. "Mmm...you smell like heaven, my girl," he murmured, his words barely audible above the thrumming of their hearts. 

Price’s touch grazed over the sides of her waist, exploring the curves he had mapped out in his memory, moving to cup her pert breasts in his grip. He stood before her, savage jubilation in his eyes, making it staggeringly clear he'd do anything to keep her close – in bed, in battle, in life. 

The possessive gleam in his eyes would make a lesser individual wilt, but not her, Rory was made of the same stuff. That lupine smirk of hers pulled at her full lips, the predatory stare blatant in her eyes as they flared up at him, the amber in her depths flickering alight. Evidence of need coated her inner thighs, her slick folds awaiting him to delve within.

He moved then, swift and certain, the force of desire propelling him forward as he dragged her towards the edge of the counter, hands roaming with the expectant touch of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. The dance between them was as familiar as breathing.

Long legs wrapped around him, jerking him towards her with a press of her heels. Wrangling him. The rare occasion where she controlled the Captain with the tug of the leash he’d given her reign over, the shepherding dog submissive to his lamb. Pushing the ruddy head of his cock that bullied at her entrance into her, slowly, stretching herself open on him, her moan filling the space between them as her face contorted with pleasure.

Gripping her hips tightly, he thrust into her with the force of a man possessed. Each movement was proof of the passion that burned between them, an almost unbearable calefaction. His knees thumped against the vanity doors, the sound punctuating each plunge into the depths of her velvety walls. 

"Is this what you want?" His voice low and gravelly, the hint of danger in his words sending shivers down her spine.

Breath hot on her neck, his lips grazed her skin, each trailing mark from his mouth a promise of what was to come. Her hands clawed at his back in return, urging him on, leaving raw, red lines against the tanned canvas of his skin. “I want you to stop trying to turn me into you,” she breathed, a soft, shuddered whisper in his ear as he continued to fill her. His hips stuttered, freezing, halfway in and out of her. John’s piercing blue-eyed gaze locked onto her as his jaw clenched – a nerve had been struck. “I’m not,” he growled. 

Eyes locked, captive in one another’s stare, she didn’t back down. “Don’t ever make me cross that line again, John.” It wasn’t a plea or a request, it was an order, a demand. She rarely asked much of Price, but after giving an inch and him taking a mile, putting her foot down was the only resolution. “Listen to me.” Gripping the back of her head, cradling it in the palm of his hand, his fingers coiled into her hair. “I have only ever done things with your best interests at heart,” he rasped, eyes boring into hers, willing her to remember the promise he had made to her in the hotel years ago. “It's never my plan to hurt you, I only ever want to keep you safe.”

“John, you asked me to use a child as bait…” Rory's eyes were glassy as she stared up at him, teeth clenched in a snarl as her words fell from her trembling lips, the guilt festering inside her. “And I did it,” she whispered harshly, “For you.”

His eyes fell for just a moment, an ounce of vulnerability shown by the man who normally remained steadfast and firm in his resolve. Price gave a heavy sigh before meeting her gaze once more. “In havin’ to deal with the Butcher, to find Hadir, I was forced to make a decision, love. But a decision – a hard decision – had to be made. Something I'm far too familiar with, eh?” He tried to force a little smirk, but it failed to reach his eyes, his fingers digging into the tender flesh at her nape as he clung to her, afraid to let her go.

“I'd never intend to put you in a position like that, not if I didn’t already know you were capable of it,” he said with a quick shake of his head, his brow furrowing, deepening the lines of his forehead. “I don't want to break you, darlin’. I know your limits, every one of ‘em, and I’d never push you any further than what I know you’re able to. It’s my job to know that, Ror. You're my best asset. My everythin’.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers, his stare pleading for a forgiveness he didn't often seek. “You know that, my girl.”

“Of all the people to ask me to do something like that, it never should have been you.” Her hand shook against the edge of the vanity before she brought it to the bridge of her nose and squeezed it, rubbing at her eyes. 

“But it was, wasn’t it?” His voice a low rasp, the quiet threat of the power imbalance between them. He was the one in charge, she was expected to follow. “You know if it had been someone else they’d have pushed you further than that, I might push the boundaries but never any farther than I know you can handle. And I’ll always be there to put you back together when it’s done, won’t I?” He gripped her hair a little tighter, combing his fingers through the strands. “You trust me to look after you, don’t you? To protect you? I’m the only one who can.” He spoke with utter conviction, entirely bound to his belief in himself. “I’m the only one. Just like you’re the only one I’ve let get close enough t’do the same with me.”

Wetting her lips, she closed her eyes and glanced away from him. “Don’t expect me to apologize for walking away, John, because I’m not going to.” She brushed her hand through her wet hair, hiding the tremor as best she could. 

“You know if that had been anyone else…” His mouth scrunched, his nostrils flaring, retreading the hit to his pride still fresh enough to sting.

“You’d have torn them a new arsehole. Yeah,” she said quietly.

He huffed out a laugh. “You’re goddamn right I would have.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Wouldn’t have done us any good,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “We had a mission to complete. Better t’let you walk away, cool off. I know you, love. Give you enough time to think things over and you always come t’realize that I was right.”

Rory sighed, scratching at her brow as she stabbed her tongue into her cheek. “You know we are still arguing, yeah?” Narrowing her eyes at him, annoyance flared at the fact that even when he knew he was wrong he’d rather continue to be defensive, in denial, punctuating it with a tsk of her tongue as she sucked her teeth. “Now might not be the time to be an arrogant prick.”

“You knew what you were signing up for.”

“God, you are such a fucking arsehole,” she muttered, looking up at the ceiling, her scoff turning into a laugh despite herself. 

“A fucking arsehole who’d take a bullet for you, and kill anyone who ever threatened ya,” he said earnestly.

“And that’s supposed to make it all better, eh?”

His brows lifted, expression haughty as the lines wore deeper into his forehead. “Has before.”

With a roll of her eyes, she cupped his jaw, fingertips pressing into his cheeks, the bristles of his facial hair pricking her as she pulled him in for a kiss, slow and deep. “Absolute prick,” she murmured against his mouth with swollen, pillowy lips.

Sliding off the counter, their kiss steadily grew more heated. The passion raging between them in each meeting of hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses. Groaning into each other's mouths as they groped at one another, clawing at their second chance like it was prey, not letting it slip from between their fingers.

Leading her to turn and bend over the counter, serving her up as an offering to himself, John’s eyes flickered over her body, meeting her stare in the reflection of the mirror before coming up behind her. His hand on her hip gripped her tightly while he began to grind up against the round curve of her ass. His weight pressed against her as he leaned over her, he rumbled in her ear, “Make it up to you, promise.”

Wrapping his hand around the thick of his cock, he tugged it before rubbing the head of it against her folds, coating himself in her slick. Lining up with the entrance to her heat once more, thrusting into her slowly, starting with just the tip, he relished in the sensation of sliding into the depths of her welcoming warmth. With a low, guttural groan, his body caged hers in and his rough hands roamed her flesh. His insistent pace stretched her open on the thick of his shaft, holding her down against the countertop of the vanity. She reached out and gripped his arm, hand trailing down, feeling the tendons rise like mountains from the planes of his skin. Fingers interlacing with those on her hip as he continued to rut into her in a relentless pounding, her hips bucking back to meet him. John's knowledge of her body, what she liked, was precise as he stroked that sweet spot inside her that made her moan and beg. “J-john…” She grabbed his thigh with her other hand, nails digging into the rigid muscle, marking him with crescent shapes in his skin. Lifting onto her tiptoes, her legs started to quiver, her calves quaking. 

“Wha’s that, darlin’,” he purred against her throat, nipping at the soft flesh. She couldn't help but whine, whimpering as he gifted her with the sweet torture of the ever-growing crescendo of a building climax. The blood pounding in her ears, stomach muscles tightened, the knot in her belly squeezing, coiling. A hoarse cry ripped from her throat as she pressed her cheek to the cool counter of the vanity, desperate for some sort of relief as heat pooled at the apex of her thighs.

“Christ, Ror, you’re so fuckin’ perfect f’me.” His beard brushed against her with each nuzzle, friction burning against her tender neck as his arm coiled around her waist, squeezing her lithe frame against him. His chest glued to her back, sweat on his brow as he pistoned into her, his hips grinding in place as he sunk in deeper, imprisoning her with his body.

“Such a good girl. So sweet f’me. Soft,” he praised. “Always ‘ave been, always will be. My girl. All mine,” he said, punctuating each claim with a thrust. “Made f’me, yeah?”

Head tossing back, Rory rested against the bulk of his broad shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as her whole body trembled under him, wracked and ravaged as she came on his cock. Crying out, she slumped forward, panting heavily. 

“Don’t ever fucking hurt me like this again. One and only warning.” Her voice rasped as ragged breaths rose from her throat. “You hear me?”

His jaw flexed against her raging pulse point, the steel twinge of tendon and muscle clenching at his teeth. She was serious, and he knew it. “Loud and clear, love.” “Good.” She gripped his jaw and their mouths met in another bruising kiss. “Because I’ll tear your fucking balls off next time,” Rory muttered, pulling away with a smirk.

“Don’t bloody doubt that for a minute, love,” he growled as his hand slipped between her thighs, his fingers rubbing against her clit in well-practiced movements as he fucked into her slow and deep. 

Her moan acted as a reminder that this was for her sake as he tried to make his apology known with the love he gave her. John aimed for success as he did in all things, to give her as much pleasure as he could, to make her come as many times as possible, leaving her shaking and moaning and weak for him, only to scoop her up into his arms and remind her why she picked him in the first place. A reminder of the night he held her, kept her safe, his body pressed to hers – the night he nearly lost her – and his promise to protect her, to never let her be harmed again. Knees shaking, legs barely able to hold her up anymore, she melted under the blanket of hard muscle, silvered scars, and hair slick with their combined exertions that pinned her in place – their bodies merging together. 

“I love you, Ror,” he growled in her ear, his breaths heavy, ragged. “I swear to God, I love you.”

It was the closest she’d ever get to a real apology from him and she knew it. The shroud of the stoic man refusing to slip away, instead allowing a thread of vulnerability to be pulled free, tying them in a knot. The unbreakable tether, stronger than steel. 

She was going nowhere and he would never make the same mistake again.

The abrasion of his hair against her slick flesh started to ache and burn, yet he showed no signs of stopping, maintaining the same drag of his cock inside her, his fingers working her clit expertly, her body was another weapon he’d mastered. Mewling, she melted into his touch, jostled back and forth until the knot inside her finally snapped. Her walls clenched around him, gripping him tight, never letting go as her cunt clutched him, milking his cock. He groaned, his hand on her hip digging in tighter. “That’s it, sweetheart. You can take all o’me, darlin’,” John cooed, sucking on the skin of her neck, sensitive and beaded with sweat. “Gonna take you to bed, love. I ain’t done with you yet.” Too euphoric to deny him, his arm squeezed around her, peeling her from the counter. Her body pressed tight to his, her feet barely able to keep up as they moved. Rory’s mind was a fog as she heard the bedroom door click shut behind them and she landed with a bounce on the mattress. 

It felt like days had passed by the time they both lay on the bed together, entirely spent and sated. Her mind lost in a haze as her body finally settled and she relaxed. Exhaustion spread through her muscles and right down into the marrow, every ache and pain she’d ignored hitting her like a freight train as she curled up against him, her curves of soft flesh a stark contrast to the wall of brute force and muscle she called home. 

Watching his breathing slowly settle, all the stress drained from him, evident by the low purr that emanated from him as the sweat glistened on his hairy barrel chest in its steady rise and fall. His hand brushed through her hair gently, pushing the sweat stained tresses away from her eyes and gazing down into them with a proud smirk. “All better now, eh?” he rumbled. 

Rory groaned. “Shut it, you’re ruining the moment.”

He chuffed, his mouth curling into a half grin as his free hand gripped at her rump, brushing his thumb over the red marks on her skin where bruises were sure to form, forgetting his own strength. “Too good for me,” he mused quietly.

She shifted in the bed, just enough to get comfortable, not enough to disturb the hold he had on her. She didn’t want to break that connection, it was more important to her than anything else. Her fingers trailed through the dampened dark hair that cascaded from his pecs and down his soft stomach. “Thought you said I was perfect for you?”

His stomach fluttered under her touch, sucking in with a sharp breath, pulling taut before his belly released. “You are. Too bloody perfect. Can’t imagine not having you beside me.” Gripping the back of her head a little tighter, his fingernails gently grazed against her scalp as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

A low growl from the back of his throat vibrated through her as he kept his lips on her crown and breathed in her scent. Their skin and the sheets of their bed perfumed with their passion, sweat and sex, and the sweet scent of her shower products. His half hard cock glistened with the mixture of their fluids, twitching as he pulled her closer to his body, enveloping her in his warmth. The protective cocoon he had always sought out to be with her, keeping her safe from danger and all the threats he knew she was more than capable of handling, earning her trust so that she would learn to rely on him. 

Huffing out a laugh she nuzzled up against him, stroking her fingertips against his flesh, grazing over scars that had built up over more than half his life. “Can’t imagine being anywhere else – even if you’re being an insufferable prick,” she murmured. “I am your girl after all.”

His girl. It had been something she had refused to be seen as for some time, something she still had to keep hidden. The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was to convince the world he didn't exist. And that was the state of limbo she lived in with John. Together, but not on paper. A secret, a lie – her work and personal life blending together in a way that most wouldn’t be able to stomach. It took a special type of person to do the things her and John did, to not let the guilt stop them or the remorse to impede their actions – it really was no surprise that somehow they would find one another, that they would end up like this. Perhaps she was more like him than she thought and he simply courted it out of her. How else would she still be able to do everything she was capable of after all this time? 

His girl had taken on a whole new meaning.

“My girl,” he crooned, “Someday the whole world’s gonna know that.”

She shook her head and laughed. “Don’t get my hopes up, we both know that’s not happening anytime soon. Perhaps once we both give up the military life, but quite frankly I don’t see either of us ever being willing to do that. What would we be without the chaos?”

“I’ll find a way to keep us together till then, love.” He chuckled to himself, squeezing her in his arms, lowering his voice to whisper in her ear, “I’m persistent, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Tilting her head to look up at him, he gazed down at her. “Meant everything I said, darlin’. Never meant to piss you off or push you away.” His piercing powder blues softened, the steely glint within them receding – the op was over, there were no more regulations or expectations, he could put the Captain persona away for a time. “You and me. Forever, yeah?” Rory’s brows flinched and knit together before nodding without another word spoken. Too tired to argue, worn out and ready to move on. She forgave him. But she wouldn’t forget. This was the dark side of John, the one she always had to be ready for. A man who knew enough of her secrets to break her, and she could only hope that his love for her willed out over his worse nature, the nature that demanded success and control. “That’s my girl,” he purred, nuzzling against her, his large hand roaming down her body, squeezing her hip and the curves of her, appreciating the soft skin below his touch. “We’ll move on from this, be stronger for it. You’ll see.” God, she hoped so. 

[mkcannothelpyou]

tersae (Abyssal Hunters)

AK/Kinktober 2023, Day 7: “Straitjacket”

Skadi is unsure if she finds this erotic.

It is not turning her… on. But it doesn't turn her off either. Maybe it… keeps her ready.

The mental voice of a little Kuranta in her head reminds her it can be good to consult the people around her. Maybe she'll ask the one who volunteered to wheel her to the 2nd Captain's room for her opinion.

"Cuttlefish."

"Uh. Yeah?"

"Do you find this sexy?"

For an instant Andreana ponders the question directly, then wonders if she shouldn't, then remembers a) this is Skadi and b) they've been talking for the past thirty minutes. Skadi doesn't really "expect" answers or even "expect" a lot of the time when it comes to the little stuff, at least as Andreana reads her. Maybe she should be more scared of trying to read her, but something tells Andreana she can handle it.

"Short answer or long answer?"

"Why do I have to choose?"

"…Good question. Nominally it's a hard-on, but I guess to be accurate, it'd get me harder if you weren't having to stay inside it on purpose."

"Mm."

They stop at an elevator landing; the dormitories are two floors up from here. Andreana listens out. Thrum, whir, Skadi's breathing, one person already going up.

"Do you have a hard-on?"

Andreana purses her lips slightly. "Now that you ask. Do you?"

"Yes."

"Great." (She's tangentially reminded Skadi is probably going to fuck her guts out several times tonight, among other things.) Andreana doesn't… know if she's used to this, or just being carried along by the part of her brain that gives her honorary pseudo-murdergang membership.

Vwomm. Although, don't they keep saying that's the blood that does that? She trundles Skadi into the elevator, takes note of the already-lit button and spins her straitjacketee back round so they're not facing the wrong exit. "Hi," Andreana says to the fellow Ægir riding with them. It's the one communal pet girl at Engineering with a pillow named Pillow.

"Hi," Skadi also says. Good job, Skadi. The Engineering girl gives a small nod to the walking destructive force standing patiently in a full-body industrial-strength canvas bag.

"Maybe I should be the one in the straitjacket next time…" Andreana mutters as they pass one floor, then decelerate.

"Nothing would change."

"How so?"

That seems to give Skadi pause. "If you don't know, you should ask the 2nd Captain." Vwomm. Andreana resumes the trundling of Skadi; Pillow scurries out the other way. Pudding, that was her codename. More of a mascot than a pet, maybe…? Although mascot could also just be a politer way of saying pet.

Back on the road. "I've tried on that straitjacket. I can't actually break it, if that's what you're suggesting."

"Why?"

"…Guess I should ask Gladiia."

Most of the rest of the way there is spent just listening to Andreana's soles tapping against the floor, the smooth shuffle of Skadi's transport, both their breathing growing just a little heavy when the room comes into view. Two people inside, Gladiia and Specter. Andreana realises she wasn't listening for that—she smelled them. Wow.

Skadi broaches the silence as Andreana terminal-keycards in. "You won't break the straitjacket because you don't want to."

Andreana sighs. "Perhaps. Special delivery."

Entering to a laundry-folding(?) Shark and a just-derobed(!) Captain, Skadi wastes no time bursting her straitjacket apart stepping off the trolley in a punchline that if nothing else, delights Specter.

[lightsburnbrite]

What We Keep Secrets For: Part 5

Sam sat on the other side of Thomas's desk, right arm crossed over her chest defensively while she pinched the bridge of her nose with her left. A shudder ran through her body, the iced coffee she was was covered in drying to a sticky mess. She willed herself to hold back the tears as she unwillingly replayed the morning's events in her mind.

"Samira? Samira Klein?"

Sam was in the process of setting up the tripod so they could livestream the team loading on to the bus. She was on the club side of the traffic barrier but had moved as close to the street side as she could to get the whole shot.

Stopping, she looked up when she heard her name called. "I'm sorry?"

"So it is you." A slightly less than middle aged woman with a blunt platinum blonde bob stood on the other side of the barrier. "Figures he'd go for a younger, bouncier version."

Sam took a step back. "I think you may have me confused with-"

"Oh I know exactly who you are." The woman raised her voice now. "If you think you can waltz in and steal my husband…"

The team had already begun to take their seats on the bus. Some were settle but a commotion outside had caught their attention. Matthijs had his earbuds in but when he saw his teammates move to the side, watching something out the window, he took notice as well. He moved over just in time to see an unknown woman reach out and slap Sam while attempting to grab a handful of her hair.

Matthijs scrambled out of the row of seats, off the bus, and sprinted down the pavement. Some others took his lead as well. Benji and Müller put themselves between the woman, who had thrown her iced coffee at her, and Sam while Matthijs immediately went to comfort her.

"What was that?" Matthijs wiped some of the coffee away before resting his hand on her cheek.

Sam was visibly trembling, looking at the ground behind Matthijs. "She said Lukas was…is?…her husband."

They both turned to watch as security came and escorted the woman away.

"Are you ok?" Matthijs had his hands on eight side of her face willing her to look at him. He knew the bus would be leaving soon but wanted to make sure the situation was at least somewhat resolved before he had to go. "Just take the rest of the day off. Go back to my place, don't go home, and I'll be there as soon as we're done, Ok?" He kissed her forehead before pulling her against him. "I love you."

As soon as he got back on the bus, he realized his teammates had seen their interaction and he knew the cat was out of the bag. Matthijs took the gentle ribbing and congratulatory shoves from his teammates but that wasn't what he was worried about. Between the scene that was caused and then the fact that it was now known that she was dating a player, he didn't think this would end well for Sam.

"The problem is," Thomas started, "It's messy. We could tell you that you need to stop seeing De Light but that doesn't erase the past four months. And who is to say you wouldn't then fancy someone else. Plus there's the drama today and the broken equipment…it's messy."

Sam closed her eyes and nodded. "Can I please just go home now?

"Um," Thomas hesitated. "I think it would be best if we had you clean out your desk and handle all the termination paperwork now instead of having you come back in another day."

Once she had all of her personal items in a tidy little box sitting on the back seat of her car, Sam rested her forehead on the steering wheel. She ignored what Matthijs said and went to her apartment, she figured that Lukas's wife had made enough of a scene that neither she nor he would seek her out. 

After a shower and a load of laundry, Sam sat down to see just how much time she had before she couldn't afford to pay rent anymore. She knew she'd need to update her portfolio but all she had done for the last year was social media and that wasn't really what she saw a a career she wanted. 

"Wow," Eva came home from work to find Sam in her robe, hair done up in a towel turban, and a glass of Rosé next to her. "Did you actually get out of work early?"

Sam let out a sigh and shook her head. "My life has basically devolved into a shit show over the past eight hours."

"Wait, what happened?" Eva's eyes widened as she pulled out a stool and sat next to Sam.

After Sam recounted the day's events, she put her hands on top of her head and shrugged. "So I have like a month and a half to find another job. I'd say start looking for another roommate now."

"I can't do that, Sam." Eva automatically shook her head. "What I I get someone lined up but then you find a job? Or, what if I find someone before-"

Sam shrugged. "I can't have you worrying about me too. I'll get something figured out."

Their conversation was interrupted by Sam's phone ringing. Initially, she was going to ignore it, but she saw that it was Matthijs calling. She excused herself to her room and flopped down on the bed.

"Hey."

"Sami." His tone was gentle, almost apologetic. "I don't have a ton of time to talk but I wanted to make sure you were doing ok. I've been worried about you all day."

She hesitated. "I'm…I don't know. They fired me but honestly, I don't know if I could show my face again after everyone saw me get beat up so there's that."

Sam let out a nervous laugh waiting for Matthijs to respond.

"What can I do? I want to help you-"

She cut him off. "Honestly? I think you could probably use some space from me right now. The last thing I want to happen is for you to then have a difficult run because of me."

"No." She hadn't heard him use quite that firm of a voice before. "We're not going there. Listen, I have to go but we'll finish this conversation when I get home, ok?"

When she didn't respond initially, he continued with his somewhat firm tone. "Sami."

"Ok," She sighed and decided to complete his thought from earlier in the day. "And I love you too."

When Sam came back out from her bedroom, Eva was busy on her phone but she put it down as soon as she saw Sam.

"So you really think I should start looking for another roommate?"

Sam shrugged. "Things are really up in the air for me right now and I don't want to be taking up space and not able to contribute to my share of the rent."

"I mean," Eva pressed her lips together. "I get what you're saying, but that doesn't mean I'm not going t be sad about it."

With a nod, Sam bowed her head slightly. "I know. Me too."

"At least if you were moving in with Prince Charming I could be happy for you." She moved over to the sofa and sat, crossing her legs underneath her. "What do you think you'll do?"

She shrugged now. "Probably move back in with my parents until I can find something else."   

When Matthijs made it back to his apartment, he wasn't surprised that Sam wasn't there, but he was disappointed. After Sam suggested that he needed a break from her, Matthijs looked back through their messages to see if there was anything that indicated she was wanting to break things off. He figured her seemingly new feelings all stemmed from the incident at the club. Finally, he sent her a message asking if she was coming over or if she wanted him to go to her. 

He waited a few minutes and when she hadn't replied, he put his phone down and walked away. The team was given the day off tomorrow but he'd almost wiped there was at least one session, he wanted something to occupy his mind so he wasn't dwelling on where Sam's head was at. 

Matthijs stood in front of the refrigerator, trying to decide if he was actually hungry, when he heard the chime signaling that the lift doors were opening. He nearly sprinted to the hallway to meet Sam, stoping just short of crashing in to her. 

Sam looked up at him, offering an apologetic smile before letting herself lean into him. Matthijs wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her as tightly as she'd tolerate before resting his head on top of hers.

Eventually, he stepped back and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Why do you think I need break from you?"

"When Thomas told me I was being let go," Her shoulders slumped and she avoided looking into his eyes, "All he kept saying was it's messy. I don't want to be a distraction for you or surrounding you. People need to see you, not your messy girlfriend."

Matthijs raised an eyebrow before he leaned in and kissed her. "You're not messy. Your…ex? Hookup? Former fling? Whatever you want to call him, that was the messy part. Not you. The way I see it, you're not affiliated with the club anymore so what is there to be worried about? Just go about your business and we'll be fine."

"I'm not-" Sam sighed and leaned back in to him. "I'm not breaking up with you, I just feel like I need to lay low for a little bit, ok?"

He ran his fingers through her hair while gently rocking them in a swaying motion. "Ok…what exactly does that look like?"

"I'm going to go stay with my parents for a bit." Resting her hand on the small of his back, Sam let her finger slide under the hemline and stroke his skin. "Save some money while I'm looking for my next job."

Matthijs immediately stepped back and put his hands on his hips, a mock display of incredulity.  "You could do the same thing by moving in with me."

"I know, it's just…" Sam moved closer, kissing him this time. "I want to move in when it's because we're ready to live together, not out of necessity."

When he pulled a face that was a mix between a frown and a pout. Sam laughed and kissed him again. "I won't be that far away, less than an hour, ok?"

"Ok." He continued to frown. "Will you at least stay tonight?"

Sam beamed back at him. "I was hoping you'd ask me that."

They camped out on the sofa and watched a bit of tv before Matthijs stood up and stretched. He held his hand out to Sam, encouraging her to stand as well.  "You know I'm going to miss you."

“Oh really?” Sam folded her arms across her chest with a smirk and the slightest bit of defiance.

He knew that look well.

“Really.” Stepping forward, Matthijs put his hands on her hips and drew her closer. Kissing her lips once, he ran his fingers through her hair. “I love your eyes and your nose…your lips, your chin.” He kissed her again as Sam stretched up on her tip toes and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Sam let out a little giggle as his hands went back to her waist.

“I love your neck and your shoulders…” When Matthijs slipped his hands under her shirt and let them rest on her ribcage, his thumbs lightly grazing under her breasts, he felt Sam inhale deeply. Gently, he stroked his fingers down her spine before taking the hem of her shirt and lifted it up over her head. Sam shivered, naked from the waist up as Matthijs pulled her back against him. Leaning forward into him, Sam rested her head against his collar bone as he began to kiss her neck, his thumbs brushing across her nipples. "I think we need to relocate. My bed is going to be much more comfortable than the floor."

Biting her lip, she smiled at him as she let Matthijs lead them back to his bedroom. Sam rested her hands on his chest, slowly dragging them down to his waist. Arms over his head, Matthijs grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the side along with hers. Glancing down, he watched as she tugged on his belt, quickly unfastening it before she moved to the button and zipper of his pants. Matthijs stepped on the back of each shoe, promptly kicking them off before Sam had the chance to tug his pants down to his knees, stroking his calves as she went along.

When he kicked my pants to the side as well, Sam laughed as she traced the outline of his prominent erection with her finger. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were happy to see me.”

Matthijs shrugged before taking a step closer to her. “So, what are we going to do about that?”

Before Sam could respond, he took hold of the tie on her joggers and gave it a tug, causing them to fall to the ground as well. Sam stepped out of the fabric that had now pooled at her feet. With one hand, she lightly rubbed his now throbbing bulge and made him lose track of his thoughts. Breathing in deeply, Matthijs tipped his head forward and let it rest against hers.

Sinking down to her knees, Sam hooked her finger tips on the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down at an excruciatingly slow pace. Looking up at him to make sure he was watching, she gently placed a small kiss on the tip of his cock. He brushed her hair out of her face, holding it off to the side to keep it out of her way. Matthijs felt his breath catch as she opened her mouth wider and took the length of him down her throat.

“Jesus, Sami.” He leaned back and braced himself against the edge of the nightstand, not being able to think past the fact that her humming was now pulsating throughout his groin. On any given day, Matthijs would have had no problem going twice or maybe even three times, but tonight he knew he didn’t have it left in him. “Ok…babe…just…hang on…” 

Sitting back on her heels, Sam looked up at him, lips slightly pouted. Raising the corner of his mouth in a smirk, Matthijs encouraged her to stand. It seemed like Sam knew what Matthijs had in mind and pushed him back on to the bed, climbing on top of him in one fluid motion. She leaned forward and kissed him, grinding her hips against his. Linking his hands behind his head, Matthijs was more than happy to just lean back and let Sam take over.

Closing his eyes, Matthijs moaned as Sam slid back over his hips. Taking hold of him in her hand, she stroked twice before guiding herself onto him. Once in a comfortable position, Sam tucked her legs up behind her, resting the tops of her feet on his lower legs, and began to rock her hips back and forth. Leaning forward, she rested her hands on either side and kept up a fervent pace.

Sam cried out, her moans eventually dying down to a whimper, as her entire body went rigid for a moment before she laid back down on top of him.

“My plan was to just take care of you tonight, but when have I ever turned you down?” Matthijs stroked her hair as they listened to the silence around them. 

Finally, Sam let out a sigh as she snuggled in closer. "Maybe I could keep some clothes here? Stay over on the weekends so I can go to your matches?"

Matthijs gave her a squeeze. "I'll take you as often as I can get you, Sami."

[blogzzs-world]

Exploring the Different Types of Travel Bags for Women

Having the ideal bag might make all the difference when it comes to travel. Women's travel bags represent individual style, comfort, and utility in addition to serving as a means of transporting necessities from one place to another. The correct travel bag makes sure that your trip is easy and fashionable, whether you're travelling abroad, on a weekend trip, or travelling for work. Choosing a bag that strikes a mix between style, functionality, and durability is essential, and there are many alternatives available today.

Women who are constantly on the run now always carry tote bags. They are roomy and adaptable, holding everything from toiletries to travel documents to an extra set of clothes. Their numerous sections make everything easy to access and organised. For travel by air, a stylish tote bag is perfect, especially if it is constructed of fabrics that are resistant to water. In a similar vein, women's carry-on bags emphasise both style and functionality. Usually, these bags are roomy enough to hold all of your necessities for the journey but still small enough to fit in the overhead bin. Seek for styles that feature wheels or padded straps to guarantee comfort when travelling through airports and other locations.

Backpacks: Blending Style and Utility

Travel backpacks provide women who appreciate hands-free ease with the ideal mix of fashion and functionality. The heavy school bags of the past have been replaced by lightweight travel backpacks. These days, they're elegant and sophisticated, with padded laptop pockets, zipper closures that close securely, and USB charging outlets for tech-savvy tourists. Women who enjoy exploring new places on foot will find backpacks especially helpful since they equally distribute weight and offer plenty of room for necessities without sacrificing style.

Duffel Bags: Elegant and Roomy

Women who require a lot of space but don't want to sacrifice style can choose a duffel bag. Luxurious leather and lightweight canvas are only two of the materials available for duffel bags. Many of them now have unique designs with integrated compartments to keep laundry or shoes apart from other stuff. Duffel bags are versatile and offer plenty of storage space, whether you're packing for a longer vacation, hitting the gym, or going on a road trip. If you're hauling a larger load, go for wheeled duffels or choices with adjustable shoulder straps for easier carrying.

Sling and crossbody bags: small and safe

There are instances when a smaller, more powerful bag is required. For women who prefer to keep their possessions close at hand and safe when travelling, crossbody and sling bags are ideal. Because of their light weight and cross-body style, these backpacks free up your hands for activities like shooting pictures, moving heavy objects, or just taking in your surroundings. Anti-theft features like locking zippers and RFID blocking are common on crossbody travel bags, and they can provide additional peace of mind when you're on the road.

Rolling Suitcases: Turnhead Carriers

These days, women who wish to travel in style without compromising on functionality love rolling bags. Modern designs are portable, light, and frequently available in a variety of hues and finishes to complement any particular aesthetic. While soft-sided suitcases give flexibility in fitting into small areas, hard-shell cases offer protection for delicate items. In addition, a lot of women's rolling luggage have sections especially made for shoes, makeup, and electronic gadgets, which makes packing and organising a snap. Seek luggage featuring telescoping handles and 360-degree spinner wheels to facilitate effortless manoeuvring through bustling airports and urban thoroughfares.

Selecting the Ideal Travel Bag for Yourself

Think about your unique requirements and travel preferences when choosing a travel bag. A sturdy, multipurpose bag is a must if you're often on the road. Handbags featuring several pockets and secure closures are essential for women who value organisation. Trendy travellers could look for bags with useful functions that go well with their outfits. Whichever your choice, getting a good travel bag will improve your trip by giving you something stylish and useful to take with you on your explorations.

The American Tourister travel bag is a fantastic choice for ladies who are constantly on the go if you're looking for the ideal combination of design, robustness, and utility. American Tourister is well-known for its extensive selection of travel bags, which range from roomy duffel bags to stylish carry-ons that are made with the needs of contemporary travellers in mind. Their luggage is constructed with premium materials that are resistant to deterioration while travel, all the while preserving an elegant and fashionable appearance. American Tourister makes travel easy and stylish with features like several compartments, strong zippers, and smooth-rolling wheels. You can travel with confidence knowing you have everything you need for a hassle-free trip.

[kuppar]

Top 10 Luggage Brands of 2024: Travel in Style and Durability

Traveling is more than just a journey; it’s an experience that begins the moment you pack your bags. Whether you’re jetting off for a business trip, a weekend getaway, or an extended vacation, the right luggage can make all the difference. Durability, style, functionality, and innovation are key factors to consider when choosing the perfect luggage. In 2024, several brands have distinguished themselves by offering high-quality luggage that not only meets but exceeds travelers’ expectations.

In this blog, we’ll explore the top 10 luggage brands of 2024, highlighting what makes each brand stand out in terms of style, durability, and overall performance.

1. Samsonite

Style: Samsonite has long been a leader in the luggage industry, known for its sleek, modern designs that appeal to a wide range of travelers. Their luggage comes in a variety of colors and finishes, ensuring you can find something that matches your personal style.

Durability: Samsonite is renowned for its durable construction, using high-quality materials like polycarbonate and ballistic nylon. Their bags are built to withstand the rigors of travel, making them a reliable choice for frequent flyers.

Notable Features: Samsonite luggage often includes features like TSA-approved locks, multi-directional spinner wheels, and expandable compartments, making them highly functional and convenient for all types of travel.

2. Tumi

Style: Tumi is synonymous with luxury and sophistication. Their luggage features a minimalist yet elegant design, often in neutral tones like black, navy, and grey, appealing to both business travelers and style-conscious individuals.

Durability: Tumi is known for its use of premium materials, including FXT ballistic nylon and aluminum, which offer exceptional durability and resistance to wear and tear. Their luggage is designed to last, even with heavy use.

Notable Features: Tumi’s bags often come with smart features like integrated USB ports for charging devices, tracking technology in case of loss, and ergonomic handles, making them a top choice for tech-savvy travelers.

3. Rimowa

Style: Rimowa is a brand that has redefined the look of modern luggage with its iconic aluminum grooves and sleek design. Their suitcases are instantly recognizable and highly coveted by fashion-forward travelers.

Durability: Rimowa’s luggage is built to last, thanks to its robust aluminum or polycarbonate shells that offer excellent protection for your belongings. The brand is known for its precision engineering and attention to detail.

Notable Features: Rimowa’s luggage includes features like smooth-rolling wheels, TSA-approved combination locks, and customizable interiors, allowing travelers to organize their belongings with ease.

4. Away

Style: Away has quickly become a favorite among millennials and Gen Z travelers for its trendy, minimalist design. The brand offers a range of colors, from classic neutrals to vibrant hues, allowing you to travel in style.

Durability: Away’s luggage is made from durable polycarbonate, designed to withstand the demands of travel without adding unnecessary weight. The brand’s commitment to quality ensures that their bags hold up over time.

Notable Features: Away suitcases come with thoughtful features like built-in USB chargers, interior compression systems, and hidden laundry bags, making packing and traveling more convenient.

5. Travelpro

Style: Travelpro is known for its practical and professional designs, making it a top choice for business travelers. The brand offers sleek, understated luggage that prioritizes functionality without sacrificing style.

Durability: Travelpro luggage is engineered to last, with durable materials like ballistic nylon and sturdy zippers. Their bags are often used by airline crews, which speaks to their reliability and resilience.

Notable Features: Travelpro’s luggage includes features like self-aligning magnetic wheels, expandable compartments, and external USB ports, catering to the needs of modern travelers.

6. Briggs & Riley

Style: Briggs & Riley combines elegance with practicality, offering luggage that is both stylish and highly functional. Their designs are sophisticated and timeless, appealing to discerning travelers.

Durability: Briggs & Riley is renowned for its lifetime warranty, which covers any damage to your bag, no matter what. This commitment to durability is backed by the brand’s use of high-quality materials and construction techniques.

Notable Features: The brand offers innovative features like a compression expansion system, which allows you to pack more without increasing the bag’s overall size. Their luggage is also designed to resist wear and tear, ensuring it lasts for years.

7. Delsey

Style: Delsey brings a touch of French elegance to the world of luggage. Their designs are chic and modern, often featuring unique color options and sleek silhouettes that stand out in a crowd.

Durability: Delsey uses durable materials like polycarbonate and high-density polyester to create luggage that can handle the rigors of travel. Their bags are both lightweight and strong, making them a practical choice for frequent travelers.

Notable Features: Delsey luggage is known for its smart features, including integrated TSA locks, dual-position trolley systems, and expandable compartments, offering both security and convenience.

8. Victorinox

Style: Victorinox, the maker of the famous Swiss Army knife, brings the same level of precision and functionality to its luggage. Their designs are clean and utilitarian, appealing to those who value practicality.

Durability: Victorinox luggage is built to last, with rugged materials like polycarbonate and abrasion-resistant nylon. The brand’s commitment to quality ensures that their bags can withstand the challenges of travel.

Notable Features: Victorinox offers a range of features, including self-healing zippers, built-in garment sleeves, and removable interior dividers, making their luggage highly versatile and user-friendly.

9. Bric’s

Style: Bric’s brings Italian craftsmanship and luxury to the world of luggage. Their bags are stylish, with a classic design that combines leather accents with durable materials, making them a favorite among fashion-conscious travelers.

Durability: Bric’s luggage is made with high-quality materials like Tuscan leather and durable polycarbonate, ensuring that their bags are both beautiful and long-lasting.

Notable Features: Bric’s luggage includes features like spacious interiors, multiple compartments, and TSA-approved locks, offering both style and practicality for discerning travelers.

10. American Tourister

Style: American Tourister offers fun, vibrant luggage options that appeal to a wide range of travelers, from families to solo adventurers. Their designs often feature bold colors and playful patterns, making travel more enjoyable.

Durability: Despite its affordability, American Tourister doesn’t compromise on durability. The brand uses sturdy materials like ABS and polyester to create luggage that can withstand the demands of travel.

Notable Features: American Tourister luggage includes features like smooth-rolling wheels, ergonomic handles, and spacious interiors, offering excellent value for travelers on a budget.

Choosing the Right Luggage for Your Needs

When selecting the right luggage, it’s important to consider your specific travel needs and preferences. Here are a few tips to help you choose:

Consider Your Travel Style: If you’re a frequent flyer, invest in durable, high-quality luggage that can withstand heavy use. For occasional travelers, a stylish yet affordable option might be more appropriate.

Evaluate the Features: Look for luggage that offers features that enhance your travel experience, such as expandable compartments, TSA-approved locks, and easy-rolling wheels.

Think About Size and Weight: Make sure the luggage you choose meets airline size restrictions and is lightweight enough to carry comfortably, especially if you’ll be navigating through airports or city streets.

Conclusion

The top 10 luggage brands of 2024 offer a wide range of options to suit different travel needs, from luxury and durability to affordability and style. Whether you’re looking for a sleek, professional suitcase for business travel, a rugged bag for adventurous trips, or a chic carry-on for weekend getaways, there’s a brand on this list that can meet your needs. Investing in the right luggage ensures that you can travel with confidence, knowing that your belongings are safe and secure, and that you’ll be doing so in style.

[reflexequip]

The Essential Guide to Choosing the Right Trolleys in Sydney

Sydney's bustling city life and diverse industries make trolleys an essential tool for various businesses. From warehouses to retail stores, the right trolley can significantly improve efficiency and safety. In this guide, we'll explore the different types of trolleys available in Sydney and provide tips on choosing the best one for your needs.

Types of Trolleys in Sydney

Warehouse Trolleys: These are heavy-duty trolleys designed to carry large and heavy loads. They come in various designs, including flatbed, cage, and platform trolleys, each suited for different purposes within a warehouse setting.

Shopping Trolleys: Commonly seen in supermarkets and retail stores, these trolleys in Sydney are designed for customer convenience. They are typically lightweight, easy to maneuver, and can handle a variety of products.

Hand Trolleys: Also known as hand trucks, these trolleys Sydney are perfect for transporting smaller loads. They are ideal for offices, schools, and smaller retail environments.

Laundry Trolleys: Used in hotels, hospitals, and laundromats, these trolleys are designed to carry large amounts of laundry. They often feature removable bags or bins for easy cleaning and sorting.

Hospitality Trolleys: These Sydney trolleys are used in the hospitality industry for room service, housekeeping, and catering. They are designed to be both functional and aesthetically pleasing.

Choosing the Right Trolley

When selecting trolleys in Sydney, consider the following factors:

Load Capacity: Determine the maximum weight the trolley will need to carry. Overloading a trolley can lead to damage and safety hazards.

Maneuverability: Consider the environment in which the trolley will be used. Trolleys with swivel wheels are easier to maneuver in tight spaces.

Durability: Look for trolleys made from high-quality materials such as steel or heavy-duty plastic. Durability is crucial for long-term use and reliability.

Safety Features: Ensure the trolley has safety features such as brakes, non-slip surfaces, and secure handles to prevent accidents.

Customizability: Some businesses may require trolleys with specific features or dimensions. Customizable trolleys can be tailored to meet these unique needs.

Benefits of Using Trolleys in Sydney

Investing in the right trolley can offer numerous benefits:

Increased Efficiency: Trolleys streamline the transportation of goods, reducing the time and effort needed to move items from one place to another.

Improved Safety: By minimizing the need for manual lifting, trolleys reduce the risk of injuries such as strains and sprains.

Cost-Effective: High-quality trolleys are a cost-effective investment, as they reduce the need for additional labour and can last for many years.

Versatility: Trolleys can be used in various industries, making them a versatile tool for any business.

Conclusion

Choosing the right trolleys in Sydney requires careful consideration of your specific needs and the environment in which the trolley will be used. By understanding the different types of trolleys available and the key factors to consider, you can make an informed decision that will enhance your business's efficiency and safety. Whether you need a robust warehouse trolley or a sleek hospitality trolley, Reflexequip offers a wide range of options to suit every requirement.

[aghsupply77]

Maximizing Efficiency with the Right Housekeeping Cart: A Comprehensive Guide

In the hospitality industry, efficiency and organization are paramount. The housekeeping cart, often overlooked, plays a critical role in maintaining these standards. Choosing the right cart can significantly impact your hotel's operations, directly influencing both staff productivity and guest satisfaction. In this comprehensive guide, we'll explore how to maximize efficiency with the right housekeeping cart, along with other essential hotel hardware and equipment.

Understanding the Importance of Housekeeping Carts

Housekeeping carts are the backbone of hotel maintenance operations. They carry all the necessary supplies, from linens and cleaning agents to toiletries and trash bags. A well-chosen cart ensures that housekeeping staff can work efficiently, minimizing the time spent retrieving items and moving between rooms.

Key Features to Look for in a Housekeeping Cart

When selecting a housekeeping cart, consider the following features to ensure it meets your hotel's needs:

Size and Capacity

Keywords: Housekeeping Cart, Hotel Equipment

The cart should be large enough to carry all essential items but compact enough to maneuver through hallways and into rooms easily. Consider the number of rooms your staff needs to service in one trip and choose a cart with adequate capacity.

Durability and Build Quality

Keywords: Hotel Hardware

Housekeeping carts endure a lot of wear and tear. Opt for carts made of high-quality materials like heavy-duty plastic or metal to ensure longevity and withstand daily use.

Storage and Organization

Keywords: Housekeeping Cart, Hotel Hardware

Look for carts with multiple compartments and shelves for better organization. This allows staff to keep cleaning supplies, linens, and guest amenities neatly arranged and easily accessible.

Mobility and Maneuverability

Keywords: Housekeeping Cart

Smooth-rolling wheels and ergonomic handles are essential for easy navigation. Swivel casters and sturdy brakes can prevent accidents and make the cart more manageable.

Customization Options

Keywords: Hotel Equipment

Some housekeeping carts offer modular designs with customizable components. This flexibility can be beneficial as it allows you to tailor the cart to your specific operational needs.

Enhancing Efficiency with the Right Hotel Equipment

While the housekeeping cart is crucial, it's part of a broader system of hotel hardware and equipment that together enhance operational efficiency. Here’s a quick look at other essential items:

Trash Can Indoor/Outdoor

Strategically placed trash cans help maintain cleanliness. Opt for durable, easy-to-clean models suitable for both indoor and outdoor use.

Laundry Cart | Commercial Laundry Cart

Efficient laundry management is essential. Choose sturdy, high-capacity laundry carts to streamline the collection and transportation of linens.

Privacy Door Latch

Enhancing guest safety and privacy is paramount. High-quality door latches are a small investment that makes a big difference in guest experience.

Other Hardware

Items such as luggage racks, baby cribs, and rollaway beds should be easily accessible and maintained in good condition to meet varying guest needs.

Chairs and Bellman’s Carts

Comfortable chairs in guest rooms and reliable bellman’s carts for luggage transport are vital components of guest satisfaction.

Shower Head

Upgrading to modern, high-pressure shower heads can significantly enhance the guest experience, providing a refreshing start to their day.

Conclusion

Choosing the right housekeeping cart and complementing it with other essential hotel hardware and equipment can greatly enhance your hotel's efficiency and guest satisfaction. By investing in quality, durable, and functional items, you ensure smoother operations and a better overall experience for your guests. Trust in well-chosen tools and equipment to uphold the high standards your hotel strives for.

Visit our online store today to explore our extensive range of hotel supplies and discover the perfect housekeeping cart and other equipment to elevate your hotel's operations. With AGH Hospitality Supply, you can count on top-notch quality and unmatched service.

[folomie]

Are Outdoor Storage Containers Safe?

Neatly Organizing Your Outdoor Area is Important, and if You're Looking for Storage Ideas for Your Outdoor Space, Investing in Outdoor Storage Boxes is a Great Idea.

Folomie Outdoor Storage Containers Offer Several Benefits to Facilitate and Add Attractive Storage Space to Your Outdoor Areas Such As Patios, Decks, Balconies or Porches. They Can Also Be Used As a Tabletop or As Extra Seating. Storage Boxes Come in Many Sizes, Types and Materials. You First Need to Decide What You Plan to Store in Your Storage Box, and then You Can Make an Informed Decision on Which Size to Choose.

【high Quality Plastic Containers】these Storage Boxes with Wheels Are Made of Durable and Safe Pp (polypropylene), Thick and Durable, Non-toxic and Safe, Strong and Lightweight, with Strong Load-bearing Capacity, Not Easy to Deform, Impact-resistant, Durable and Can I Have Been Using You for a Long Time. Great Eco-friendly Alternative to Small Plastic Bags, Cheap Reusable Totes and Flimsy Cardboard Boxes. 4 Detachable, with Wheels for Easy Transport, and the Sturdy Structural Design Allows the Contents Inside to Retain Their Shape for Long-term Use. the Lid of the Storage Box is Designed to Be Dust-proof and Moisture-proof, Which Can Prevent the Items from Being Stained with Dust in an Orderly Manner. Great for Grocery Storage, Trunk Organizer, Toy Storage, Makeshift Laundry Hamper, or Even a Recycling Bin. Plus, It's Easy to Clean. You Can Wash with Water.

【multiple Doors & Recessed Handle Design】the Storage Box Has Stylish Doors, and the Translucent Door Will Help You Easily Find and Take out What You Need Without Opening the Lid of the Storage Box. the Smooth Corner Design Makes It Safe and Easy to Clean. Embedded 2 Handles for Easy Transport and Access Make These Storage Boxes Easy to Carry. Great for Sports Equipment, Tool or Food Storage, and Perfect for Moving House.

【foldable & Easy to Install】the Foldable Storage Box Requires No Installation, and the Lightweight and Durable Crate Snaps Together in Seconds. This Increases Portability and Minimizes the Footprint when Not in Use. Expanding or Folding Can Maximize the Use of Space Without Wasting Space Resources.

【stackable & Space-saving Design】the Cover of This Closet Organizer is Grooved and Designed with an Interlocking Nesting System. the Bottom Design Allows the Storage Boxes to Provide More Stability when Stacked, Not Easy to Slip, and They Can Be Stacked Together Firmly. Stack Securely for Efficient Use of Space and Keep Your Space Organized. Ideal for Mobile Transport and Provides a Space-saving Solution for Your Trunk, Garage, Yard, Office and More. Both Unfolded or Collapsed Bins Can Be Stacked Vertically to Maximize Space.

【ideal for Storage】this Storage Box is Classic and Stylish in Color, the Design is Perfect for Indoors and Outdoors, Providing a Space-saving Solution. Fits in the Trunk or Bed of Any Sedan, Suv or Pickup. Great for Shopping at the Grocery Store, Wholesale Club, or Farmers Market. Also Suitable for Rvs, Camping and Picnics. Store Your Groceries, Sports Equipment, Outdoor Gear, Bbq Food and Drinks, Toys, Tools. Also Store Clothes, Books, Items, or Use As Bathroom Storage Bins, Kitchen Cabinet Organizer, Book Case, Bedroom Storage and More. Using This Box to Store and Transport Goods from One Location to Another is More Convenient Than Shopping Bags or Cardboard Boxes.

If You Need, Outdoor Storage Containers , Storage Containers with Snap Lids. Please Visit Our Website: https://www.folomie.com/

[tipsydipsydo]

The laundry hamper [M]

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: 2.2k 

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut

AU: College AU!; Roommates2Lovers AU!; Friends2Lovers! AU

Warnings: Dirty Language + slight Dirty Talk; sweet and shy but naughty Jungkookie; Mentions of Masturbation in the shower; Scent/Smelling-Kink; Panty-Sniffing; Masturbation; slight Voyeurism; Teasing; Petnames; soft sub! Jungkook & dom! Reader undertones; Mentions of mutual Masturbation; Mentions of 69-Position 

Summary: Jungkook has a crush on you since you moved together for college but the poor boy is way too shy to confess his feelings to you... rather he would search through your laundry hamper to get a shirt which smells after your very personal scent and tries to calm his racing heart... and other nerves. He didn’t thought to get catched by the person who already stole his whole heart in the most embarrassing situation...

A/N: Happy first year friendship anniversary with my dearest @borathae​!! I love you to death my sweetheart and I thought today would be the perfect occasion to finally finish this Oneshot I started 10 months ago and waited to get finished until today on my IPad... especially because you  was the person who gave me the inspiration to write this idea... I hope you like it!! 

Status: halfway edited bc I was stressed I wouldn’t finish it on right time- 

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「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

He knows it's bad and that he shouldn't do it. Well... honestly, already before this thought, which is haunting him since two weeks, he wasn't any kind of "well mannered" anymore. ...before you apologized for taking so much space with your shower untensils in the shower basket and then decided, to take your Shampoo, Conditioner and Bodylotion to your room.

The thing you didn't know was that you took with this decision, Jungkook's one and only opportunity to properly jerk off, with you.

Why?

God, just when the poor boy thinks about it... the thought alone gives him a rosy-red blush all over his cheeks, which almost reachs his ears and leave him completely flustered and ashamed.

How to explain it... your quiet, adorably awkward and super shy roommate, who has a crush on you since two years (or even longer!) tend to use your hair shampoo as a little "fantasy kick". How could he resist the opportunity to smell something so familiar which reminds him of you, so close?

How he used it you ask yourself?

While he was showering, he sniffed on the opened lid of the shampoo bottle like a fucking dog in his rut and jerked off to the smell of English Wild Roses. Yeah, even Jungkook himself is absolutely sure that he reached a whole new level of freakiness. Who else jack themself off while sniffing on a damn hair shampoo bottle?!

Jungkook has simply a thing for scents... especially for everything that smells like you. Whenever something of you comes in contact with his nostrils, he immediately pops a boner.

Really, it's not funny anymore when you feel that your dick is going hard just from getting a whiff of your crush's parfum when they're passing by.

Anyway, not your parfum or shower utensils are giving Jungkook a problem now, it's much more your laundry hamper which suddenly developts a really strong seductive affect on him.

Both of you having a seperate laundry hamper in the shared bathroom and also a laudry bag in your room. It's easier to have these two opportunities to put your laundry than walking always with an arm full of dirty clothes through the whole apartement.

Especially when friends of the other person are over and a pair of Kook's boxer briefs or one of your bra's found their way to the floor, unnoticed. Okay, 'unnoticed' as long as one of your friends are yelling that there is dirty underwear in the hallway. Of course not without dropping some stupid and teasing comments.

Yeah, it's really better for Jungkook's and your own peace to have a laundry bag in your room and a laundry hamper in the bathroom. Even when Kookie wouldn't mind it at all to be the one who would've found your lingerie...

...and that's the point. Since this one incidence with your dessous, Jungkook is haunted by countless absolutely filthy and indecent thoughts. At first he was still able to control them and to shove them away into the last corner of his mind. But after you took your shower stuff with you to your room, these fantasies returned really, really fast and his interest in your laundry hamper grew endlessly.

It absolutely didn't help that he pretty aware of the fact that you showered just a half an hour ago.

You made yourself ready to go to the movies with some of your friends. That means, he would be completely alone for the next few hours with the clothes you've worn before and are now own your very personal scent. How the hell should he survive this silently for him screaming seduction?!

Okay, okay, even when he'd took something off your hamper... just as a hypothetisch thought... it would be definitely only something completely innocent, like a shirt or something else. Really, he just loves to smell your wonderful personal scent. It's calming his wild racing heart... and in some way his unsatisfied desires as well.

Once again he takes a glimpse through the slightly opened bathroom door into the hallway which leads to the front door. Everything is silent, he is indeed completely alone in the apartement.

Now or never. Maybe he should take one of your worn out T-Shirts you always wear for house chores and isn't one of your favourite piece of clothing anymore. Maybe then you wouldn't notice that's even gone... for a longer time.

He shouldn't debate any longer before he reverses his opinion and pull back... he would slap himself if he'd let such an opportunity slip through his fingers unused...

As soon as he opens the lid of your laundry hamper, all his 'good and pure resolutions' are thrown out of the next bathroom window. Hebshould have guessed it, he should have known it... that your underwear is the last thing you take of your body before showering. Well, in conclusion, your panties are the first piece of cloth which is greeting Jungkook's eyes.

He's gulping harshly. Fuck, his brain knows that what he's doing here is bad and dirty, that he shouldn't do it... but his body and especially his dick is literally screaming and begging him to reach out for exactly this piece of lingerie.

Those tiny little wheels starts turning in Jungkook's head when he scans through your latest outfit. He remembers which Sweater and Sweatpants you wore. How could he forget those cute socks with this adorable avocado print on them.

...but no Bra.

Fuck... Jungkook can't explain himself why he finds the thought of you, being so comfortable in your shared apartement and around him, that you decided to not wear a bra underneath and let your tits bounce around freely, so god damn attractive...

Before he even realized it, his greedy hand took your used panties already out of the laundry hamper and lets the soft fabric slip through his fingertips.

It's a plain black cotton panty with a lacey border which has a beautiful flower pattern. Others would say it's boring, unspectacular underwear but for Jungkook it's already beautiful and beyond belief sexy lingerie. To imagine that you walk casually around in those panties everyday... Jungkook feels how his dick is already leaking precum in his boxer briefs.

With every second he holds this pair of panties in his hands, his poor, needy cocks hardens even more in his grey sweats. He gulps again. He shouldn't do it... but your panties are tempting him and his short patience.

Before he can control what he's doing, his nose is already buried in this piece of cloth and takes a deep breath.

If his other hand wouldn't already disappeared beneath his waist band and squeezed the base of his cock, he would've already blown his load right here in his sweats.

He's panting, his breath fast and ragged, trying to take as much as possible of your intoxicating scent into his lungs when he yanks his sweatpants down to his knees and lays his hand in a firm grip around his red, swollen and angrily leaking cock. He's literally dripping, so it doesn't take long until his whole palm is lubed thoroughly with his own precum.

Jungkook's mind is clouded, he can't built any proper thought anymore, your delicious smell makes him salivating and he knows, he feels it in every fiber of his body, that he already got addicted to the smell of your panties... your pussy.

He can't believe that you smell so good, like that fucking good that he almost blew his load already in his pants. Untouched.

His mind is spiralling, dirty thoughts get exceeded by even more filthier ones, every secret and forbidden fantasies which he hold under control for so, so long are crashing down on him.

God, what would he do to be the lucky person who gets you on top of him, queening him, his whole face buried into your pussy, your juices smearing all over his chin and cheeks and getting a good whiff of your perfect cunt first hand. He would happily die between your legs, suffocated by your thighs which you would've squeeze so tightly around his head that it would literally crushed him. He would die as the happiest man in the whole universe.

To imagine how you'd whine, whimper and growl at him... praising him for doing so good, pleasuring you so well, tugging at his locks because you can barely handle the pleasure you receive from his tongue and lips...

His fist goes faster and faster, his wrist will hurt so bad in the exam tomorrow... but that's Jungkook tiniest problem right now, he needs to cum so fucking bad, his balls are already hard and tight, feeling like they would burst if he wouldn't cum and time soon.

"Tz, tz, tz... what do we have here? I didn't thought you'd be such a naughty boy as someone who's so sweet and shy, Jungkook... sniffing your roommates panties and jerking off to them...", you snicker and smirk, even though bis back is still facing you. The later flinchs noticeably and lets a surprised and equally terrified yelp out, almost jumping around to you.

He's trying to save to situation and his pride, throwing your panties back into your open laundry hamper and pulling his pants up as quick as possible.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, I am so, so, so, so sorry, it will never happen again, I am so sorry that you have such a disgusting roommate like me, I am so sorry, I didn't knew you'd come back so early again- oh fuck... I am so sorry, I am a disaster", Jungkook chokes out in a trembling voice and glassy eyes, a tiny little sob leaves him as well. He is truly ashamed and mortified to death.

Your heart breaks when you look at him, he looks so sorry and embarrassed, he couldn't look at himself in the mirror again. Slowly you start to shake your head 'no'.

"Oh Jungkookie, I didn't mean to shame you... I... I just was a little surprised to catch you here in the bathroom... having a little fun time with yourself... I realized halfway to the cinema that I forgot my wallet and I came back to get it... then I saw you and just wanted to tease you a little bit... ah shit- I think I just messed the things up as well... okay okay, stupid question from a stupid person who has a big, fat crush on you since months, if not even years... wouldyoumindmetohelpyoutocum?", you ramble nervously, now are your cheeks equally beet-red.

Jungkook's eyes shoot up to your face, your red cheeks, your big, questioning eyes and your lip biting is sending a new rush of exitement down to his softening cock, making him harden all over again.

"W-What? ...what?? You- you too? I-I am crushing on you since we moved in together and now you're telling me that you- ...oh my god, yes... yes... yes please... please help me. I am so needy and horny right now and your pant- you always smelled so good and it's driving me crazy... I am so horny for you, Y/N."

Jungkook couldn't control his blabbering mouth anymore, everything is just blurting out of him with such a force like the Niagara Waterfall.

You sigh in relieve and a bright smile is forming on your lips as you walk over to your crush and lay both of your hands on his cute and round cheeks, so you can look each other into the eyes.

"Jungkook, I would like to ask you if you're comfortable with the thought of me kissing you before I will... devour you?"

Just to hear the two words 'devour you' out of your mouth made his knees almost buckle. His head is moving by itself, nodding vehemently. But to his confusion you're shaking your head no.

"Babyboy, I need your verbal confirmation. Consent is key, alright?", you say in a gently yet firm voice.

Oh God, you'll be his death... calling him 'Babyboy' alone made a whimper slips past his lips which is why you hum very appreciately.

"Oh God, yes, yes, yes... please... please kiss me and devour me, Mistress- ugh, s-sorry, I- I didn't mean to say that", Jungkook coughs out all flustered again, don't dare to look you in the face.

Such a good, perfect babyboy he is already for you.

"Don't be shy, Baby... I like the title you gave me. When you like it, you can continue to address me with 'Mistress'. ...what about we change our location to your or my bedroom? I'd love to let you smell and taste my pussy... not just through worn fabric. I would take great care of your aching cock... I saw how swollen, red and leaking it was already. What about you eat me out while I take your cock into my mouth and jerk you off with the panties I wear right now. Hm, sounds good?

Jungkook's head is already spinning again when your lips finally meet, your mouth and tongue already taking the control over him and devouring him.

Yes, you'll be definitely the death for him.

[angrelysimpping]

the kid prompt makes me think of a future where sydney and pc have a kid, where the kid is a sassy little thing but openly affectionate, so sydney and the kid end up COVERING pc in cute little notes like “i love you!!” and “best parent :)!!” and “beloved spouse <3”. pc gets each single one tattooed and soon their whole body is covered in ink.

🥺adorable

When they run out of skin, Sydney and their child start reluctantly writing notes. Sydney specifically does the laundry so they can slip notes into your clothing before putting them away. Every day there's a note in your pants pocket or a slip of paper safety-pinned to a sleeve. Your child favors tucking notes into your shoes and bag. If you drive, there's a good chance you'll find a note from one of them, or even both, tucked into the car handle or taped to the steering wheel.

You'd be able to fill several scrapbooks full of the different notes they give you in just one week.

[watermelonlipstick]

Losing

This was written as a request for the eternally lovely @samwisethegr8​. Hope you like it, baby! Idk where the chipmunk stuff came in, I must’ve had forests on the brain or something. As always, I’d love any advice or critiques!!

Title: Losing

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3283

Summary: Losing her hair following a spell makes it challenging for the reader to feel like herself. 

Warnings: swearing, fluff, hair loss

           Dean knows better, by now, than to say anything about the beanie you straighten as you get into the backseat, giving you some soft eyebrows in the rearview mirror that are maybe worse than if he’d kept joking about it. Typical, for the spell making your hair shed like some cartoon pulling out fists in a temper tantrum to be one of the few you’d seen hang on after the casting witch died. You’d been doing research for weeks now on ways to get it back with nothing to show for your efforts except a few stomachaches from attempted potions (and one influencer-inspired collagen and ACV concoction you’d dumped out after feeling ridiculous). Sam had convinced you that getting back into the swing of things might make you feel better, and was trying a little too hard to be cheerful next to his brother in the front seat.

           “The weather’s so nice today—sometimes you forget how good the sun feels, being in the bunker for a while.” He flashes a smile over to Dean expectantly, willing him to say something encouraging too. Dean looks exasperated for a fleeting second before relenting.

           “Yeah, uh, great day for a drive.” You catch the tail end of his tiny eye roll in the rearview mirror.

           “If you guys are going to treat me like an invalid I’m out of here.”

           “Invalid? I just think it’s a nice day out,” Sam says, trying for indignancy through his put-on ignorance and not quite hitting it. Looking back at you over his shoulder, he’s able to hold onto it for about 2 seconds of eye contact before his face relaxes into more familiar kindness. “Okay, fine, sorry. I’m just happy you’re coming.”

           He’s unphased by your glare back at him, keeps up the sympathetic puppy dog eyes because he knows your snark is coming from a pit of frustration and self-consciousness. Just like Dean’s tenderness of omission in not saying anything about it today, it’s simultaneously comforting and annoying. You feel a lump forming in your throat. “Stop looking at me like that.”

           “Like what?” Sam seems a little hurt.

           “Like I’m dying or something. Both of you. I’m serious, you’re making it so much worse.”

           Dean catches your eyes in the reflection. “Kid, you just seem so fuckin’ bummed. It’s only hair, it’s probably even going to grow back.”

           “Easy for you to say, you’re not going fucking bald! So, are we going or are we doing group therapy in the driveway all day?” You can hear that you’re being too harsh but can’t muster up the energy to stop, flopping into the seatback with your jacket balled in your lap. Sam and Dean exchange a look and Dean turns the key in the ignition.

           It really is a nice day, sun streaming through the windows of the Impala and cutting the still-slightly-chilly spring air just enough to be pleasant. You make a conscious effort to let go of your indignation, counting farm houses on the way out of town as a sort of meditation. Dean starts singing along to the Deep Purple tape playing, and when he catches a glimpse of your smirk he really hams it up, banging out the drum line on the steering wheel and pulling faces that would make Billy Idol jealous. After a few bars you can’t help yourself and start to laugh, the excited accomplishment that breaks through Dean’s act to light up his eyes sending a pang right to your heart. He holds his fist up in a facsimile of an invisible microphone to Sam, who plays along. By the end of the next song the Impala is rocking like Madison Square Garden, radio up so loud you can barely hear your own thoughts as you scream-sing until you’re laughing so hard you can barely catch your breath. The music changes over the next few hours,  the volume turned down for snippets of conversation or debriefing about the upcoming case from Sam then back up for one of Dean’s favorite B-sides, and by the time the sun is going down you’re genuinely only thinking of how hungry you are while Dean turns into a diner that stands alone sharing a parking lot with a strip mall.

           Dean’s two steps toward the restaurant by the time Sam has the back door opened to offer his hand to you. He looks surprised when you don’t take it right away, standing there awkwardly for an extended beat with his palm outstretched and his head tilted like a curious dog.

           “I’m not going in.”

           Through the windshield you can see Dean stop and turn back toward the car, jamming his hands in his jacket pockets like he thinks he’ll be waiting in the chilly evening for a while. Sam wraps his fingers around the top of the door and runs his other hand through his hair. “Babe, come on, it’s just some stupid diner. No one will even notice.”

           “Sam, I’ll notice. Forget it. I’ll wait here, you guys go—grab me a sandwich or something.”

           His lips tighten into a sympathetic but frustrated line and he looks over the car to his brother, who shrugs without taking his hands out of his pockets. Loud enough that you can hear him through the windows and around the car, Dean calls out, “How’re you planning on talking to the sheriff if you won’t even walk into a diner, hot shot?”

           You match his volume. “Good point—I’m not planning on talking to the sheriff, I’m staying in the motel.”

           Sam takes a deep breath and winces. “You don’t know anyone here and we’ll never see them again. You’ve gotta eat something. Please?”

           “You’re not the fuckin’ Elephant Man, you’re a chick wearing a hat,” Dean offers loudly, absolutely not helping. Sam shoots him a look that says as much and clenches his jaw. Dean shrugs and opens his jacket with pocketed hands as if to say ‘what?’ Sam jerks his chin toward the diner and Dean nods, spinning lazily on his heel to walk in alone. When Sam moves forward, you slide over on the bench seat to allow him to sit next to you in the backseat.

           “It’s just hair.” He says, low and soothing, just above a whisper. “You’re still the same person.”

           You let your head roll back onto the seat behind you. “You don’t get it—my hair was the only pretty thing about me.”

           Sam’s face contorts in disbelief like you’ve just told him not only are unicorns real, but you have one in your duffel bag. “What?”

           “You heard me,” you repeat, training your eyes Dean through the diner window, winking at a woman in her mid-twenties whose cheeks are full and cherubic under bright, friendly eyes. You can see even from here that she bites the inside of her lip to keep from beaming back at him, holding onto his gaze for a beat longer than necessary before taking her tiny notepad back to the kitchen.

           Sam shifts to put himself more directly in your line of sight. “Baby, the pretty thing about you is you. These hands are beautiful because they’re yours, because they, I don’t know, put an extra dryer sheet in with the laundry so it smells amazing, scratch Dean’s back when he can’t fall asleep. Your eyes are the first ones I want to see every day, not only because they’re beautiful—and don’t argue with me about this for once, please—but because they’re the same ones that always seem to notice that last symbol we’re looking for after I’ve read a stupid book of runes 400 times. Your lips—” he pauses, touching your lower lip with his thumb so light it could be a feather, “—are beautiful because they’re the only ones that I can hear your voice through. Was your hair beautiful? Of course. And it’ll be beautiful again.”

           “You don’t kno—”

           He rolls his eyes. “I do know, but even if it isn’t, you’ll still be you. You can borrow mine if you want.” Sam’s eyes are so earnest, so sweet as a tiny smile tugs at his mouth, that you can’t help yourself as you lean forward and press your lips to his. The way he kisses you back is such naked affection and relief, slipping a hand around the side of your neck to cradle your jaw, that it’s hard not to believe it’s how he really feels. 

           The moment is broken when Dean opens the driver’s side, startling you enough to take a sharp intake of breath against Sam’s cheek. “Quit sucking face and look alive,” he says, nonplussed as he hooks an arm over the front seat to hand you a paper bag filled with Styrofoam boxes.

           “That was, ah, fast,” Sam replies, and it’s almost steady enough to hide the stammer.

           “3 BLTs, not like they fucking built the Great Wall. Waitress in there said there’s a motel in the next town over, 10 minute drive.” He waits until you have the bag supported with a hand on the bottom and one taking the handle from him. Sam squeezes your thigh once before slinking back into the front seat, but Dean’s eyes stay trained on you. “Touch my fries and die.”

           You manage to keep your mitts off everyone’s fries until you pull into Walnut Suites a few minutes later, thinking to yourself it sounds like some kind of hotel for squirrels and hope sort of absentmindedly it’s one of the kinds of motels that decorates to a theme; even when they’re stupid—maybe especially when they’re stupid—anything to break up the monotony of thousands of motel rooms over the years is welcome in your book. Sam coming out of the office dangling a room key attached to a plastic walnut is evidence that you might be in luck, and you grab the food as you get out of the backseat.

           Dean already has your duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “This feels light; you bring your gun?”

           You wait a second to see if he’ll figure it out himself, but Dean only raises his eyebrows and juts his chin out like you haven’t heard him. “Hardly need a blow dryer now, do I?”

           If there was more light in the parking lot you’d probably have been able to see Dean’s cheeks flush as he cleared his throat to cover. “Uh, right. Do still need a gun though, so as long as you’ve got that.” He offers Sam his bag and shuts the trunk as his little brother reaches the parked car.

           “Apparently we’re in the chipmunk room.” Sam’s going for above-it-all but he knows you secretly like this kind of shit and drops the key into your palm with a wink. “It’s the only one with queens instead of fulls.”

           “Whatever,” Dean grumbles. “I’m hungry enough I’d eat a damn chipmunk.”

           “What does that even mean?” Sam asked, annoyed in a way only a sibling can be as the brothers trail after you to the room.

           “That I’m fucking hungry, what do you think?”

           “A chipmunk is like, the smallest animal you could possibly say. It doesn’t make any sense; anyone could eat a chipmunk.”

           “You trying to chow down on a chipmunk kabob, Sammy? Aren’t you like 99% vegan now? It’s the principle of the thing.”

           Sam rolls his eyes in over the top sarcasm. “Yeah, I’m vegan now, that’s why I’m about to eat a BLT with mayo, dumbass.”

           “Bacon doesn’t count. And it’s about timing; you said chipmunk room, I said I could eat a chi—you know what, I’m not explaining this to you. You either understand comedy or you don’t.”

           As you open the door, the light from the room illuminates Sam’s bitch face kicking back on his neck. Winchester bickering had already put a smirk on your lips but the décor was everything chintzy you could’ve hoped for; forest embroidered quilts on the beds and a chain of hand-holding chipmunks that appeared to be hand painted in a waist-high border around the walls. The bed frames were made of those stripped logs that could look very chic in otherwise minimalistic Scandinavian architecture, but here they looked impossibly cute and dorky with chipmunk stuffed perched on each bedpost. Dean seems not to notice any of it at all, throwing his duffel on the bed closest to the door and snatching the bag of food out of your hand.

           The three of you eat watching Alf while sprawled on various furniture. When the half-hour flips the programming over to Mork and Mindy, you offer Dean the rest of your fries and get up to stretch your back. “Either of you dying to use the bathroom? I want a shower.”

           Both shake their heads so you grab your ditty bag and head to the reasonably sized bathroom, trying not to be startled at the large Chip and Dale portrait painted onto the back of the door that reveals itself in the mirror when you go to set your things down. It’s clean and the water pressure is good, which is far more than you can say for many similar places you’ve stayed in, and you linger in the shower longer than you need to, shaving your legs twice for an excuse to stay under the water and out from under the oppressive weight of your self-consciousness here where the boys can’t see you. Washing your remaining hair as quickly as possible and chuckling once, mirthlessly, at the lingering reflex to squirt the amount you used to need into your palm, you finally leave the shower with only momentary nausea at the amount of hair you have to grab from the drain to let the water empty. For the ever-growing list of pros and cons for shaving your head you’d been building in your head: no more shucking these sopping hairballs into tacky little wastebins across America. You wrap a towel into a turban around your head more as a reflex of propriety than anything, marveling again at the amount of rituals there are—were—around hair. Maybe being unburdened by that would be freeing. And it feels sentimental in an annoying pseudo-useless way staying attached to the hair that remains, like lingering in the victimization of this stupid spell when you could just as easily shave your head and be done with it, become some kind of Tank Girl badass version of yourself and pretend you’re too cool and tough to care about girly shit like ponytails and the way Sam held his nose to the crown of your head sometimes, took a deep inhale of you and smiled so you could feel it laid on top of your hair like a tiara more precious than any you could imagine. In any case it won’t be right now, so you throw the loose t-shirt you’d gotten from your bag over the towel on your head and slip on some athletic shorts before heading out to the room.

           You were in the shower for even longer than you thought because Dean is in his standard “just-before-sleeping-on-the-road” outfit, having lost the flannel he wore that day as well as his belt. The jeans will come off just before he gets in bed, pooled on the floor with neatly set boots beside the mattress so he can jump into them like a firefighter if he needs to, an old habit that you’d stopped making fun of the Winchesters for when it actually had come in handy a few times. Sam usually folds the jeans and sets them on top of his boots next to your bed. Dean grabs one of your hands and flips it over for inspection as you walk by. “Surprised you’re not a raisin. Going to send this county into a drought.”

           You roll your eyes good-naturedly and toss your toiletries on your bag as you head to your bed, watching Sam brush his teeth in the kitchenette sink. Dean follows with a tight handful of clean tee and boxers as Sam comes back to you, the younger Winchester grabbing the back of his collar to tug off his t-shirt and toss it on top of his bag in one fluid motion before folding back the sheets and getting in. Over your shoulder, the shower turns on and you can hear Dean humming through the door. The beanie you’d taken off was exactly where you’d left it, and you flipped your head over to take off the towel on your head and replace it with the hat as inconspicuously as possible.

           “Babe, you don’t—” Sam starts softly, stopping when he sees you turn back to him with your jaw set.

           “Can we just go to sleep?” you reply, almost succeeding at keeping the sting out of your voice. He bites his lip and nods mostly to himself, flicking the covers on your side back in invitation. You crawl in, turning your back to him partly to be wrapped up by the warm shell of his body and partly so he can’t see your face. A large hand covers your hand where it lays on your sternum, intertwining your fingers in his and pulling you back into him a touch. After a long minute of listening to the shower-dampened noise of Dean going through Skynyrd’s greatest hits, you feel Sam’s voice through the knit on your head.

           “I feel like we’re camping.”

           “What?” you ask, genuinely confused.

           “You wearing a hat to bed, you only do that when it’s freezing.”

           “I really don’t want to tal—”

           “I know you don’t, but I just…you’ve been boxing me out for weeks now. Listen, I know I don’t get it, I know it’s not the same as if it had happened to me, and I’m so sorry you’re dealing with this, but I don’t care about your hair. I mean—fuck—not like that, I care about it because I care that it’s affecting you, but I just wish I could get you to understand that nothing about the way I think of you has changed. You’re always going to be the sweet, funny, badass girl I’m beyond lucky lets me hang around. It’s like this spell took your hair but the real punishment is putting this wall up around you.”

           You take a deep breath to steady your voice and realize there’s no way you’re going to be able to talk without it cracking, instead just yanking the hat off your head and letting it fall to the ground beside Sam’s jeans. He hesitates for a second before pressing his face to you, and you can feel the smile against your scalp. It’s a struggle, but you manage not to wince when he kisses a spot you know is effectively completely bald.

           “You smell good,” he murmurs against you, and you don’t know why it’s that simple statement, after all the flowery poetic things he’s said for weeks and especially today, but there’s something about the total acceptance, no hint of the disgust you thought was inevitable no matter how hard he tried to insist wasn’t there, that melts you. It’s enough to unwrap some of the defensive prickliness you’ve built up, and the amount of emotional energy you’ve been putting into keeping it there dissolves the way it sometimes does the second your body realizes the adrenaline of a hunt is no longer needed and you crash in the backseat of the Impala. The heat from Sam’s body and the delicate sound of his heavy breathing on your neck puts you to sleep before Dean’s out of the shower.

-

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[novelconcepts]

fic: she tells me worship (in the bedroom)

There are days, as the years burn away like so much kindling, where everything is the best it possibly could be. Days where Dani’s beast in the jungle is silent--maybe no longer there at all--and her demeanor is smooth and easy. She matches Jamie’s smile on these days, warm and light and happy, and Jamie can’t get enough. Could never ask for more than Dani in her best mood, Dani’s laugh the clearest bell in the room.

Those days are wonderful--but they are, of course, not the only sort. Natural enough, Jamie knows, for anyone, though maybe somewhat more of a concern for Dani. The days where Dani’s tensions run high are doubly-loaded, one part the natural discomfort of a bad day, one part Dani’s mounting fear of losing herself. 

You’re here, she tells Dani on days like this. You’re right here, with me, and you’re not going anywhere. 

Dani grits her teeth, furrows her brow, nods. Jamie pulls her close, still murmuring the words like an endless prayer. She’s not much for religion, Jamie; never much saw the point of asking for miracles from ghosts and gods. Bad days with Dani, though, are their own kind of religion. They form their own kind of belief, stretched between them, one that says Dani is here, Dani is strong, Dani is in control whether or not she feels it. 

There are good days, and there are bad days, and there are days like this whole week has been: middling days. Days where Dani is not fumbling away from her with breath whistling high and fast, but neither is she laughing. Days where Dani wakes with a grimace already on her lips, her temper short, her body clenched as she moves about the apartment. Jamie has learned to read these moods, has learned Dani doesn’t need her to ask questions or work to soothe her nerves. Dani in a mood like this is independence, so used to fighting the battle of her own bad day alone, she sometimes only feels worse if Jamie tries to take her hand. 

Jamie has learned, instead, to stand back a few steps. To keep her eyes on Dani’s expression, to keep her ears perked for a sign Dani is shifting toward something genuinely dark, something that will genuinely require Jamie to step in and catch her. Some days, it goes this way--a middling day turning without warning into bleak horror. Some days, she needs this of Jamie. 

Other days, she needs something else entirely. Something to turn a highly-strung afternoon into a pleasurable evening. Something to remind her, though she does not always have control over her mood, there are other things to grab hold of and use to her own ends. 

Jamie doesn’t mind in the least. 

***

She knows it will reach a breaking point eventually. There’s just a scent on the air when Dani is like this, no matter what image she’s projecting to the rest of the world--sooner or later, the smile will slip, the polite laugh will dry away, and there will be only Dani Clayton in all her magnificent frustration left. 

It’s really just a matter of waiting it out. 

In the meantime, there’s plenty to do. The shop is thriving; Jamie, who had spent most of that first year wanting to pull her hair out over numbers, is still not entirely convinced she can trust the implication that they are doing well. The odds of moving to America on a whim to start a flower shop that actually survives its first few years were slim; the fact that they are rapidly becoming a fixture of their small Vermont town, taking in larger swaths of customers every month, is baffling. 

It pleases Dani, too, she knows--most of the time. When Dani isn’t dealing with a customer like this one, a shrewd-eyed woman who calls into question Dani’s comprehension of her job at every other turn. 

“Anything I can help with?” Jamie asks, leaning around Dani with a surreptitious hand brushing her back. Dani shoots her a sharp look, a not now look, and she nods. 

“Right. Be in the back if you need me.”

Some days, if you need me is a call sign, an olive branch Dani grabs with greedy hands. Some days, after a customer like this one, Jamie finds herself propped against the back room table with Dani tearing at her zipper before she even realizes. 

Not today. Today, when she pokes her head back out to ensure Dani hasn’t actually murdered the old bat, she finds Dani already chatting with someone else. Politely. Smiling, even, though Jamie knows better than anyone what Dani’s barely-hanging-on smile looks like. 

“All good?” she murmurs as the new customer saunters away, careful not to so much as graze Dani. Mismatched eyes snag her gaze, Dani huffing out a breath. 

“Sometimes I wonder why we picked a job with so many people.”

“Be a lot more fun with just us,” Jamie agrees. “Though how we’d fit all those lovely pillows into a cardboard box, I couldn't say.”

Dani grants her a small laugh, barely enough for Jamie to coast on. It’s almost nothing, but it’s what Dani can manage today, and that’s fine enough. Jamie considers saying something else--telling Dani with words that she is here, that she can handle all the worst customers the day has to offer, that she doesn’t mind if Dani begs out early. Not that words matter most, with Dani. Words have never been the thing, where Jamie is concerned, for Dani.

“I’m all right,” Dani says, a bit stiffly. Jamie shuts her mouth, nods. 

“Sure. ‘Course you are. If you, ah, need me...”

It’s becoming a prayer of its own, she thinks sometimes, a plea to the part of Dani that desperately requires both hands on the wheel. If you need me. Which, no matter how it shows, Dani always does. Even on days like this, where Dani can’t quite fit right into her own skin, where Dani is trapped between normal human irritation and the mounting anger she carries for someone else. Dani always does need her. 

It’s just that that need doesn’t always look the same.

"What say we order in tonight?” Jamie asks as they’re closing up. “Throw on a movie?”

Dani shrugs. “Fine. Need to hit the grocery store first, though, we’re out of...a lot of things.”

“I can do it,” Jamie offers. Dani slides her a grateful smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“I’m fine, Jamie. I promise.”

“No, I know,” Jamie says, a bit too hurriedly to be believed. “Only--look, I know it’s been a hard week. I just...”

“Want to help,” Dani fills in when her voice trails awkwardly away. Jamie scrubs a hand down her face. 

“Yeah. But if I’m hovering, I don’t--”

Dani doesn’t quite touch her. Dani seems some days unable to touch her, or be touched, like she’s afraid basic physical contact will release the thing lurking inside. It’s the anger, she says, her voice strained with worry. It’s that rage. 

Won’t hurt me, Jamie says, with a confidence she has never been more sure of than while looking into Dani’s eyes. Wouldn’t ever. 

It’ll pass, she knows--in an hour, in a day, in a week. It’ll pass, and Dani will be back to her usual self once more, laughing, telling stories Jamie hasn’t yet had time to memorize, trailing her fingers across Jamie’s face. Back in the driver’s seat, as it were. The only thing in charge of her own choices.

She allows Jamie a brief kiss, the single negotiation made with her demons--there is never a time, no matter how she feels, or what petty argument they’ve had, where Dani does not kiss her goodbye. 

The apartment isn’t filthy, by any stretch, but certain things have fallen by the wayside over the course of a busy week. Jamie sets to work alone, humming her way through laundry collection--the pair of underwear beneath the couch offers a particularly pleasant memory: Dani stretched back against the arm, sighing as Jamie undressed her and settled in to explore--and stacking dishes in their proper places. Little things, she reminds herself. Little ways to make it easier on Dani until Dani can breathe easier all on her own. Jamie doesn’t mind doing the dishes, sweeping up, ensuring the plants are watered and the bathroom tissue is restocked. Dani does the same for her, when the roles are reversed. 

Dani does more for her than she seems to realize. Even down to holding herself apart this way, too afraid of crossing a line she can’t take back. Jamie wishes there were words to explain how much that means--how much Dani’s self-imposed protective qualities make Jamie feel as though no one has ever been more important. It means the world, and it makes her crazy all the same, because there is nothing she’d like more than to hold Dani close when she gets this way. 

I’m not sick of you, she thinks fiercely, stacking plates into the cupboard. Not now, not ever, Poppins, so when are you going to stop pushing me--

The key in the lock. She turns her head, watching Dani shove the door open, jerking her key back and forth to unstick it. “Hey, you’re back. Good. Was just tryin’ to decide what kind of pizza--”

She pulls up short, leaning back against the counter with a frown. There’s a look on Dani’s face, a strange tight look that instantly makes her wonder if things are worse than Dani has been letting on of late. 

“You all right? You look...”

Dani shakes her head, tosses her purse so hard, it bounces back off the couch. She doesn’t seem to notice, preoccupied with the tight clench of her fists, the stilted stride that carries her across to the kitchen to deposit paper bags across the counter in a careless mess.

“Dani, what happened?” There’s keeping her distance, and there’s keeping things from Jamie. The look on her face now, the sharp cut of her mouth, the taut clutch of her jaw, is just this side of worrying. “I need you to talk--”

Dani has her shirt in one hand, bunched in her fist, dragging her close. Jamie stares, her stomach giving an agreeable little lurch. 

“Did I do something?” she asks. Unlikely, sure, but always a possibility. Always possible there’s something she didn’t notice to make up for. 

Dani, though, shakes her head once. Her hand tightens, pulling Jamie forward, past the kitchen threshold to the living room rug. She stops, swaying slightly as though not entirely certain where she is. 

Jamie--growing less concerned, more intrigued by the second--hesitates. There are only so many outcomes, from this sort of greeting. Only so many outcomes from the way Dani is looking at her now, a sort of helpless tension held in every curve of her face. 

“Can...can I help now?” Jamie asks, half-expecting Dani to release her, to crumple, to open the door to whatever she’s been holding Jamie away from all week. It’s like this, sometimes. Dani, surrendering to her after days of miserably tending her own mental demons. Dani, falling into her with exhaustion. Sometimes. 

Not always. 

Dani is pushing her, she realizes, her hand dragging up Jamie’s front to grip her shoulder. The pressure she applies is surprisingly gentle, but too firm for Jamie to deny for anything but the best reason. She allows herself to sink, allows Dani to shove her down until her knees strike rug, until she’s staring with her head tipped back and her skin growing hot. 

There’s something about this view, she thinks, that will never grow old. Particularly with Dani looking at her this way, eyes stormy, brow creased with some combination of frustration and--

“Let me help,” Jamie says, half a suggestion, half a plea. She reaches a hand to Dani, giving her ample time to step back, to change her mind. Dani, instead, reaches to the hem of her own skirt, yanks it to her waist. 

“Please.”

One word, and Jamie’s whole body shudders. Dani’s hand slips up, skimming her cheek, delving into her hair. She’s staring at Jamie like a challenge, like a dare: love me now, her eyes seem to say. Love me like this. 

More than that, Jamie promises silently, pressing forward into her. There’s loving Dani, certainly--she’s happy to do it, privileged to do it, doesn’t even think about it anymore. There’s an instinct to loving Dani she gave into long ago, with no desire or intention of turning back. 

This, though. This is more than loving. This is the closest thing to religion she’s capable of, the closest thing to belief she can wrap her head around. Forced to her knees by Dani’s hand, moving to kiss Dani from this spot of supplication, is the truest kind of worship she's ever known how to give. 

Dani exhales above her, the breath leaving her in a rush as Jamie slides her hands up the backs of her thighs. Her skin still holds a chill from the early winter air, and Jamie lets her palms rest for a moment, giving Dani her own warmth as a gift of greeting. She peers up at Dani, watching her sway with anticipation, watching her gaze down that same scorching challenge: Love me like this. Even today. Even when I can’t love myself. 

She presses a kiss, small and sweet and barely anything at all, to the crest of Dani’s underwear. Dani makes a low noise in her throat, something shaky, palming the back of her head in an effort to push her closer. Fast, she recognizes--Dani wants her fast, rough, to demolish the day’s shadows in no time at all. 

Dani wants it that way--but it isn’t what she needs. Jamie tilts her head, brushes against Dani with her nose, moves to kiss the inside of one thigh instead. She feels Dani’s hand loosen, allowing her the freedom, and she takes it with glee. Each kiss is small, gentle, a bare approximation of what Dani is asking of her, but with each press and release of her lips on Dani’s skin, she feels some of the tension go out of Dani’s grip. Dani, who has spent all day strung tighter than Jamie could possibly know, and who could demand more of Jamie now, sighs. 

She doesn’t beg. Doesn’t even speak. Only splays her fingers across the back of Jamie’s skull, her palm resting at the crown of Jamie’s head, letting her go where she will. Trusting that Jamie, taking her time with every kiss, smoothing her hands down to cup behind Dani’s knees, dragging her nails lightly down Dani’s calves, knows how to read her. 

Control, thinks Jamie, as she so often does in moments like this. Given freely, it’s an intoxicant all its own. 

There’s something about the way Dani trembles when she opens her mouth against smooth skin, when she runs her tongue in a slow, gentle arc up toward the juncture of Dani’s pelvis. Something about the tightening of Dani’s hand in her hair that makes her feel more alive than she ever does walking the world. 

She’s giving the same treatment to Dani’s other leg, tracing one hand lightly around her kneecap, digging her nails gently in, when Dani utters her first low moan. Jamie smiles into her skin. 

“Yes?”

“Didn’t ask you to talk,” Dani says, though Jamie can hear her smile. She slides a hand higher, gripping the underside of one thigh, digging her thumb in. 

“Didn’t ask for much, from what I recall. Bit demanding, Poppins.”

“If you’re complaining,” Dani says, “I can just take care of it myself.”

“Not like I can,” Jamie points out, and Dani grips harder, yanking her head back. She gives a hiss of pleasure. “Oh, you’re not denying it.”

“You,” Dani points out with an arch of her brow, “are denying me.”

“Let me back to it, then.” She’s playing with fire. She’s playing with fire, and Dani could turn the tables at any moment, could push her away and decide she isn’t in the mood after all. 

Dani, to the contrary, gives her a smile that makes her glad she’s already on her knees. Her hand flexes in Jamie’s hair, wrenching her forward without warning, and Jamie groans against her, biting gently through the fabric of underwear that, already, is considerably wetter than it had been. This, she thinks, should have been their entire day. Their entire week. Dani gripping her skirt in one hand, Jamie’s hair in the other, already revolving her hips gently to meet the slow press of Jamie’s tongue. 

“Tease,” Dani sighs, as she circles, wraps her mouth around already-straining nerves, sucks lightly through sticky cotton. “Fuck.”

Jamie smiles against her, pleased; Dani already swearing is a sign she’s been looking for this longer than she maybe even realized. Her hand presses Jamie in, her legs spreading slightly to give Jamie more space, and Jamie takes what she’s granted willingly. She’s kissing Dani with slow, heady abandon, eyes closed, aware with every small jolt of Dani’s hips that this is exactly where she ought to be. It’s easy to lose herself here, in the rock of Dani meeting her every stroke, in the taste of Dani soaking through thin fabric onto her tongue. She takes the edge of Dani’s underwear between her fingers, pulls it aside, uttering a low sound of pride at what she’s already accomplished. 

“Enough?” she asks politely, and Dani makes a breathless sound of aggravation above her. She bows back in, stretching the fabric away from where it belongs, letting her fingers graze slickly along Dani only once. Dani jerks. 

She could stay here, she thinks. Stay here on her knees, holding Dani in helpless limbo, forever. Stay here, feeling Dani’s gaze on her, feeling Dani’s desperation to push her closer coming up hard against her desire to let Jamie choose how this plays out. She’s never sure what will win, with Dani in a mood like this. 

“Jamie.” Not pleading, not yet, but slightly choked all the same. Her hand smooths down the back of Jamie’s head, urging her closer, and Jamie presses back into her palm for a beat. Just a few seconds of fighting the push, her fingers grazing back and forth--stroking once across skin, back across fabric, feeling Dani throb against her fingertips. 

“Jamie.” That was pleading. She slides her hands up, pulls the underwear down, supporting Dani as she steps out and all but crashes into Jamie’s mouth once more. 

That was pleading, and this is worship: sinking into Dani in every way that matters. She traces Dani with the tip of her tongue, curling when Dani sighs, stroking when Dani whimpers. The taste of her is overwhelming, drawing aside her own restraint a little at a time, and Jamie reminds herself exultation should not be rushed, benediction cannot be forced. True worship, true belief, is a slow, deliberate thing, inching ever nearer to something huge and glorious and well-earned. 

Dani’s nails dig hard into her scalp, scraping under her hair until she parts her lips around swollen nerves in a sharp sigh of pleasurable pain. Dani is making sounds of her own, muffled sounds against the clench of her teeth even as she’s grinding harder to meet every swipe of Jamie’s tongue. She sucks more forcefully, adds a gentle scrape of teeth that makes Dani twitch violently beneath her. A pounding heat between her own thighs gives a particularly sharp pulse, and Jamie welcomes it, welcomes it as she explores the familiar map of Dani soaking into her lips. 

She’s here, she tells herself, validated by every sound from Dani’s lips. She’s here, all of her. She imagines what she must look like now, her head bobbing between Dani’s legs as she twists and angles to offer every last inch of pleasure. What she must look like to Dani, with her eyes lidded and her body bucking, Dani who drives a hand against her head, pulling her hair hard to show Jamie exactly where she’s most needed. What must this look like: Jamie’s own hips rocking hopelessly against nothing, her hands occupied with holding Dani upright as the strength slides from her knees. She is the only thing keeping Dani here, keeping Dani in place, keeping Dani from collapsing to the floor in a heap. 

Dani is making breathless, almost keening sounds, pumping her hips hard to match the flick and roll of Jamie’s tongue. Jamie opens her eyes, leans back, letting the contact go just long enough to take Dani in: head thrown back, the cords of her neck standing out, trying with everything in her to keep her volume down. 

Let them hear you, Jamie thinks, delving in again with rough, reckless strokes. Let them fucking know. She’s moaning herself, unable to stop, unable to control her own voice as Dani grips her tight, thrusting to match her with frantic, nearly-there energy. 

Her fingers tremble, the desire to slide into Dani almost too strong to ward off. She resists. This is what they both need, instead, this urging of Dani over the edge with nothing more than what Jamie has already promised. Just the art of taking Dani into her mouth, drawing her tight, feeling her wind higher and higher as her hands glide through Jamie’s hair, catching, yanking. Nearly there, she knows, from Dani half-groaning her name. Nearly there, and it’s a shame to let it end, a shame to know this is not a permanent fixture of life, being on her knees in front of Dani Clayton. 

Dani is shuddering, crying, “There--there--fuck.” Jamie presses her tongue flat, gives a final broad stroke that sends Dani tumbling, each pulse against Jamie’s mouth feeling a little more like triumph. She keeps going even as Dani is slowing, even as Dani’s rough grip in her hair is loosening to something soft, something tender. 

“Jamie, I--I--”

Jamie is one long open kiss, warm and wet and needy in her own right, working a hand up the inner slope of her thigh, and now she is teasing with her fingers, now she is offering Dani this added gift, and Dani is making a high, surprised, wanting sound above her. 

“Jamie--” 

Tell me, Jamie commands silently, and Dani is so open, Dani is so wet, Dani is beyond ready even as she’s begging. She slides inside, eyes rolling back in her head when Dani clutches immediately around her, legs nearly buckling as Jamie curls fingers and tongue in the same action. 

She drops her skirt at last, closing both hands around Jamie’s head to ride this second climax to its height. Jamie, eyes closed, is not sure she needs anything but this to feel at home. Nothing but Dani shuddering around her, Dani arching to take her deeper. Nothing but Dani, letting her in. 

She leans her head against Dani’s hip, breathing hard, letting the skirt fall back into place. Dani, still trembling, wraps her arms around Jamie as best she can, leaning her head back and sighing. 

“I’m--”

“Good,” Jamie says, not much interested in an apology or an embarrassed explanation. She licks her lips, runs the back of her hand across her mouth, tilts her head to look up into Dani’s still-dazed face. “You’re good, Dani. All good.”

She stands, takes Dani’s face in her hands, runs her fingers along Dani’s parted lips. Dani smiles, tongue darting out to curl around one finger and Jamie makes a softly wanting sound against her own will. 

“You’re all right now?” she asks, her voice husky. Dani closes her eyes, nods, kisses her way along Jamie’s fingers until they’re clean. Then she’s kissing Jamie with all the quiet fever of a week spent staring into the shadows of her own head, pulling Jamie backward toward the couch, sinking down as the last of the strength finally goes out of her legs. 

She won’t talk about it--not now, not yet, not with her hand urgent against Jamie’s zipper. She won’t talk about it as she palms Jamie through her jeans, rubbing in hard strokes while Jamie sinks back against the couch and groans. She won’t talk about it, bending over Jamie to kiss her hard, slipping her hand into Jamie’s underwear and stroking, pinching, driving her toward a dazzling conclusion of her own. 

Later, maybe. Another night, maybe. This night, the push and pull of it, the teasing angle of her bent over Jamie with her hair curtaining them both and her smile welcoming Jamie to kiss her to completion all over again, was not made for that. This night is for Jamie to remind her of what is most important: that even on her worst day, even fed up with the world or the beast in the jungle, there is no enough for Jamie. There is no end, no exit, no edging away. 

She holds her close, arm around her waist as she pushes desperately up into Dani’s hand, understanding in some distant way that there is no such thing as too much where Dani is concerned. There is no darkness in Dani that can scare her off, no lack of control in Dani that doesn’t make her want to lead Dani back to a place of authority over her own life. There is nothing except Dani, striding into the room and forcing her to her knees; Dani, losing herself in the slide of her lips; Dani, needing and being needed. 

Let me in, she thinks with sleepy hope, as Dani kisses her and nestles against her side. Let me in, let me help you. I can give it back when she takes it away. 

She’ll say it, someday. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next year. She’ll say it, and Dani might even believe. 

In the meantime, she doesn’t mind this, the devoted worship of one who has never loved like she loves this woman. She doesn’t mind Dani being unable to ask. She doesn’t mind Dani’s fierce need coming to call. 

It’s mutual, she thinks as she dozes with Dani in her arms. It’s everything. 

[silenceofthecookies]

Winter Blossom

Pairing: Mikaze Ai x female reader

Word count: 1532

Warnings: angst, character death

Summary: Inspired by Ai’s song ‘Winter Blossom’. Y/N has a terminal disease and since she doesn’t have people who can look after her, she gets an android to help her. 

Carefully, Ai pushed her wheelchair through the snow. The park was mostly empty and the snow was untouched, save for the footsteps and wheel tracks the two of them left behind. Ai kept his eyes glued to the back of her head, covered in a knitted beanie which seemed to be too big for her.

He had been opposed to the idea of her going outside, but he could not refuse her request. He was only an android, designed to follow her every order. Though she never ordered him, she always asked. His original data suggested that humans rarely or never treated androids like their equals, but she seemed to be an exception. He guessed it was because of her condition. (Y/N) was terminally ill and had no close relatives or friends who could take care of her, so Ai was given to her as support and as a companion. He still remembered their first meeting well.

---

“Wake up.”

The android opened his eyes at the command. In front of him at the edge of a hospital bed sat a girl with H/L H/C hair, which seemed a bit messy, and E/C eyes. She was wearing a hospital gown, and a tube connected her arm to a bag which hung above her.

“Commencing startup sequence. Master, please tell me what to call you.”

His voice sounded realistic, though a monotone, and the girl in front of him seemed a bit startled by it. She looked up at him with a small smile as she spoke.

“My name is Y/N, you may call me that.” “Y/N has been registered. Please tell me what you want to call me.” Y/N though a bit before she smiled. “I’d like to call you Ai.” “Startup sequence completed. Nice to meet you, Y/N, my name is Ai. I’m here to help you. If there is anything I can do, all you need to do is give the order.”

Y/N looked at the android in front of her in wonder. He seemed perfectly human from his looks to his voice to his movements. It seems they even simulated breathing, by the way his chest was moving up and down, and he blinked from time to time. The only thing that gave him away was the lack of emotions behind his blue eyes.

“Nice to meet you too, Ai. Will you please keep me company until I leave this world?” “Of course, I will, Y/N.”

---

Y/N was allowed to leave to hospital not long after that, and Ai went with her. Over the last few months, the two of them had been living together in her small apartment. Ai had made her food, took care of the cleaning, made sure she took her medicine... Anything to make sure she could live comfortably and so she wouldn’t strain herself. And for everything he did, she thanked him with a smile. Ai found himself liking her smile. At first, he wrote it off as his programming. It was his job to make her happy, after all. It wasn’t until the first time he smiled, that he started thinking more of it.

---

“Y/N, I’ve finished doing the laundry and the dishes. All rooms have been dusted and vacuumed. I will start making dinner in 2 hours. Is there anything else you need me to do?” “No, that’s all. Thank you, Ai, you’re the best.”

Once again, she smiled sweetly at the android, and he felt his fans start to work a little harder. Was he overheating from the work? That would mean his fans started a little late. He needed to run a self-scan later.

“You know Ai, you look really good like that.” “Like what?” “You know, smiling.”

Ai froze for a bit. He had not done that on purpose. He ran a quick self-scan, but everything seemed to be in order.

“I see. If it makes you feel more at ease, I will smile more.”

---

Ai smiled more after that, sometimes on purpose, sometimes not, but it made Y/N happy, and that was all that mattered. His fans had been working harder more often whenever he was around her, and after running several self-scans, maintenance programs and updates, he could come to no other conclusion had he has subconsciously created this routine as a reaction to seeing her, much like humans start blushing. However, Ai was not human. He was an a.i., a robot. He was no human, and he shouldn’t be able to feel emotions.

Though he had started to wish he could.

He wished that he could feel emotions, that he had a heart he could share with this girl. She was so sweet, and deserved so much more, and yet she was alone. Ai noticed that she often gave him hugs or leaned against him, in search for some affection. He returned her affections physically, but there were no emotions behind his gestures, for he had none.

“Hey, Ai?”

Her gentle voice reminded Ai they were out in the park together, and that he should focus on her instead of on her thoughts.

“Yes, Y/N? Are you cold?” “A little, but it’s fine, I can handle it. Ehm… Ai… I have a bit of a weird request. Would you listen to it?” “I will do anything within my capabilities to grant it.” “Could I kiss you? It’s one of those things people talk about, but I’ve never done that before… and I thought I should at least kiss someone once before… you know.” “I understand. If that is what you want, I shall grant your request.”

Ai stepped away from behind her wheelchair and stood in front of her. Her face was red, probably from more than just the cold wind, and she was smiling at him nervously. Ai smiled a little himself, hoping it would put her a bit more at ease.

“Are you ready?” “Yes.”

After getting permission, Ai leaned down, placed his hand on her cheek and gently kissed her. He wasn’t quite sure what exactly to do, kissing was not in his programming after all, so he just kept their lips connected for a little while before leaning back. He noticed her heart started beating a bit faster, and he could’ve sworn he felt something within his own chest as well.

“Thank you, Ai.” “You’re welcome, Y/N. I suggest we leave the park for now and find a cafe where you can warm up a bit. If you want, we can come back later. “Okay.”

---

It was only a few days later that Y/N’s condition took a turn for the worse. Ai knew this was probably the end for her, and he decided to stick by her side instead of taking care of the house like he usually would. He was surprised that such a lovely person like her didn’t have friends or family who came to visit her, certainly on her deathbed, but he decided not to ask about it. He wanted to make her final moments in this world as nice as he could.

“Ai?” Her voice was weak ad barely audible by now, so Ai leaned in closed to hear her better. “Yes, Y/N?” “Thank you, for everything you’ve done for me.” “It was only natural, Y/N, don’t worry about it.” “You know, I often feel like you’re an actual person, instead of an android.” “Thank you, Y/N.” “I know you’ll say you’re not, because you have no emotions… but there’s a lot of people in this world who struggle with expressing their emotions, who don’t know how to handle them or what exactly they’re feeling… I think you’re one of them.” “I…. Thank you. That is nice of you to say.” “Don’t you think so?” “I wish I could have a heart filled with emotions, so I could share them with you. If there’s a god out there, I’d beg him to give it to me, so I could feel the same emotions as you.” “Ai… a wish is not made without emotions. You’ve had them all along.”

Finally, Ai realized what had been going on. He felt frustration, for not feeling emotions. He felt sadness, because nobody would come visit her. He felt happiness when he was with her, which caused him to smile. And he loved her, which caused his circuits to freeze a little whenever he saw her. He had emotions all along.

“Ai, please don’t cry.”

Surprised, Ai touched his cheeks, and found some water on there.

“Y/N… I don’t want you to go…” “I’ll never be far, Ai. For as long as you’re alive… I’ll live on… within you…” “Y/N… I love you! I really love you!”

Y/N smiled brighter than anything Ai had ever seen, despite her weak body now. If only he could’ve said those words earlier. If only he could’ve seen her like this longer. But slowly, her body relaxed, her eyes closed. Her breathing had stopped, but a hint of her final smile remained. Ai embraced her body and cried.

“I promise, Y/n… I’ll live for the both of us. I’ll do everything you still wanted to do but couldn’t, so please… watch over me.”

[aghsupply77]

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[thisisthehardestthing]

This Is The Hardest Thing - 2

CHAPTER 2

Synopsis: A exchange student from the US in enrolled into UA when her father has to move to help with the increased crime rates in Japan. The final year of high school is a lot to handle, adding on top the class of 3-A and the trouble they get into will make for a wild ride.

Author’s note: Switches to third person in the middle. I hope it’s not complicated lol. I have been reading this chapter over and over and over again trying to tweak it but I think this is the best I’m going to get it. After this chapter, the plot is going to get a jumpstart in a new direction.

Triggers: swearing

Word count: 3.4k

@whats-her-quirk​ , @aizawascumslut 

CHAPTER 1 , MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 2 - BUTTERFLIES

Sun’s setting earlier, you mused. Different to what you were used to. The cool breeze of this morning was back. In a few days, it would officially be autumn. Your chest rose as you took a deep inhale. The scent of sweet grass lingered in the air as though it was recently mowed. There was a sigh of content that escaped your lips.

You walked to the dorms that you were to live in. Large doors loomed in front of you as you dragged your purple suitcase over the stoned walkway. The 3-A was hanging above the entrance painted in white on the red brick.

During the last class of the day, you were called to the reception to fill in some forms about the living arrangements, and received the key to your bedroom and front door. You recalled the amenities mentioned by the smiling receptionist; a full gym, kitchen, laundry and bath area’s. Your suitcase had also arrived, being couriered directly from the airport. You had only one that wasn’t even full, so it had felt like a waste to not have waited for it yourself.

As you stood in front of the large doors to the dorm house of Heights Alliance, the butterflies in your belly managed to start up again, wings fluttering and getting caught in your intestines. There you stood in front of the closed front door, not knowing what to expect on the other side. It almost felt as if you were supposed to knock before entering, even though you now lived there too. Your eyelids shut as you took a breath before gripping the handle with white knuckles.

The floor was wooden. A light birchwood that bent and bounced under your weight as you walked across it. Inside the large front room, the lights were bright and gave the room a warm glow. Some of your new classmates were sprawled in the lounge area, watching T.V. It was a collection of arms on the back of the chairs, legs thrown over the top of pillows. Mineta was sitting on the floor near the tv as an actress was jumping off a building, almost as if he could look up her skirt from his angle.

There were dishes clattering in the kitchen, it was carrying voices arguing about who is cooking and who is washing up. Kirishima wants barbecue meat, Momo wants a green salad with plently of fried sides to share. You heard them come to a decision of a mixture of both. Todoroki was standing in front of sink, filling up empty ice cube trays with water. It was as if the house was both the eye and the storm at once. They were working together in a neat chaos and you took it all in as you walked in.

The sounds of your footsteps and the bag wheeling behind you caught the girls’ attention and they all rushed to you. Mina and Uraraka gave you a welcoming hug. Your intestines unwound and you forgot why you were nervous in the first place.

“Finally! We were wondering if you were going to be living with us in the dorms or not!” Mina gestured, linking her arms with you like when you first met. She was extremely friendly and put you at ease with how natural it felt to talk to her.

“Yeah, I am. I had to go fill some stuff out before I got here.” You replied, smiling back at her.

“Awesome,” She said with a thumbs up, catching you off-guard because it was in English, and your smile widened. You pulled your arm out of hers and fumbled for your room key in your pocket.

“What room is 2-3?” You ask, showing the girls the yellow tag.

Mina, Tsuyu, Momo and Uraraka said they would accompany you up to your room.

“Do you mind if we help you unpack?” Uraraka asked, footsteps lightly padding on the floor as you made your way to the staircase, past the kitchen. “We want to get to know you! There are so many boy’s in our class, it’s nice to have another girl to talk to.” You heard a laugh that bordered on a bark.

“HA! As if she’s a girl.” Bakugo roared out, still bitter that you had the upper hand for a few seconds during the short fight. Kirishima grabbed him in a headlock, pulling him down low. Your eyebrows shot up as he was able to keep a firm hold on the neck, not faltering under the strength of Bakugo’s threats and tugs. He had a grey gym tank on that had wide armholes. The movement had shifted one so that half of a dark brown nipple was on display.

“Ignore him,” He flashed a toothy smile. “He just needs to get used to you. Kind of like a dog.” You gave Kirishima a small grin in return. Your eyes snapped back to Bakugo who had set off an explosion against Kiri’s side to free himself. The girls dragged you up the stairs as they rolled their eyes.

“See what we mean?” They all giggled.

Your bedroom was on the second floor, the third to the right of the split hallway. You unlocked the door. It swung open with ease, as if welcoming you home.

There was a simple bed with light grey covers folded neatly on the end. A dark wood desk and chair to do your work on, a set of drawers and a single closet, that already had some school uniforms hanging, courtesy of dad. The mini-fridge and microwave was snugly against a marble counter that had storage space both above and below it. There was an attached bathroom with a toilet and a sink. It was a bare room, which was fine because it meant you could decorate it throughout the year with things you come across.

Your bag fell heavily on your bed and Mina jumped on after it, giddy with excitement. Uraraka explained that they wanted to see what kind of clothes you wore in the USA.

“Well, I don’t want to disappoint you, but it’s pretty normal stuff.” You laughed. They were acting like you came from another planet. “I also don’t actually own a lot of things, so I’m sorry if it’s not up to your expectations.” The purple trolley bag was now unzipped and open. Tsuyu peered over your shoulder as everyone looked at the items. They watched as you hung up your clothes and they chatted animatedly among themselves, handing you some of the shirts and jeans.

It felt good to be talking to other girls your age. Ever since your mom left, it had been you and your dad. The people in your old school had started to shun you after a particularly bad incident with your quirk, which is why you didn’t want to bring it up for as long as possible. And the girls were fine to not talk about what it was, instead bringing up other topics. They’d seen how you’d danced around the questions about yourself from Midoriya’s examination during lunch. He’d been scribbling a notebook about your father but you had changed the topic as soon as he asked about you.

“Oh my!” Momo interrupted as she saw your underwear. It was a rather large collection of thongs, some lacey, most plain. Yet you only owned three bra’s in total. “So skimpy!” She lifted one up by the waist band and stretched it out gently, blushing red. You grabbed it from her, your own face and ears going pink, burning hot.

The girls fell down in their laughter. You quickly gathered it all up and stuffed it into a dresser, deciding to sort it out later.

“I like nice things” you shrugged, closing the drawer quickly.

“What else can we expect from the land of Victoria’s Secret?” Mina wiggled her eyebrows.

They soon left you to your own devices to sort out the rest of your room, welcoming you to UA as they closed the door.

It was 1 in the morning when you were finally ready to climb into bed, having just changed into your red night dress. Everything was meticulously packed away, and you were happy with the way the day turned out. Three framed photograph’s of your family sat atop the dresser. You were about 10, gap toothed smile on display with your parents staring lovingly at each other behind you. The other two were more recent pictures of you with each of your parents after their divorce.

But then your stomach rumbled and you moaned as you realized you had never eaten dinner. You raked your fingers through your thick hair, pulling it against your scalp. How could you have completely missed it? That’s also when you realized that you had not looked at your phone the entire day, and had no one’s numbers. Which was a shock. Your body was still not used to the time difference, so you convinced yourself to head downstairs since you wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.

Maybe there are leftovers? You thought to yourself as you shrugged on a thin, white cotton bathrobe and padded quietly down the hall with your bare-feet to make your way to the kitchen. The nerves in your feet hummed in response as your quirk begged to be used.

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

Bakugo was definitely not expecting to see anyone. He’d went to the gym after dinner, training until late and was once again hungry. He’d just finished a shower, drops were dripping down his neck. Fingers combing through the blonde hair to fluff it back to its usual points as he made his way to the kitchen, stopping when he saw the light was already on.

Who else could be awake at this time? He thought to himself, eyebrows knitting together as the corners of his mouth turned down.

He really did not feel like talking to anyone and he was exhausted from the extra hours of exercise, so he had every plan of ignoring who else was in there until he saw her. The sight of Rei’s back to him made his blood boil, white-hot heat exploding in his body. It was a melting pot of hormonal lust, embarrassment and knowing there was an unfinished fight. It was made worse by the red nightdress hanging on her body. It dipped into a slight V, showing half of her back. She was fit and muscular, it was obviously the kind of body only achieved by intense training. He found her insanely attractive, which pissed himself off even more. He was 100% focused on being the top hero when graduating at the end of the year. He did not have time for feelings. Especially when it was only normal hormonal lust. So he redirected the anger onto other things: the punching bag in the gym, the sponge he scrubbed himself with and at Rei.

He watched in the shadows as she opened the fridge, bending forward slightly to scan the contents. Her short nightdress rode up, dangerously close to the fold of her ass and he felt his hands begin to sweat. His frown deepened. It felt stifling hot in the dark common area and if he wasn’t already shirtless, he would’ve been pulling at the neck to try and get some air. She straightened up, not finding anything that would satisfy the midnight cravings, and her dress dropped again to a somewhat respectable length.

What an idiot. Dressing like this in a common area. He thought to himself, then he saw the bathrobe on the table that had been taken off when she thought no one was going to be there. He wondered if she was as warm as he in that moment.

He heard a huff and she put one hand on her hip, the contours of her shoulders muscled reflecting in the warm glow of the kitchen and moved the hair that was over her shoulder to the back, thick strands covering smooth skin. It bounced with the movement, natural highlights glinting from the hours she would spend in the sun. It was almost mocking Bakugo for staring so intently.

He watched as she moved to inspect the cupboards and scowled when his designated doors in the corner were opened. Rei’s hands lifted up above her head as she reached for a cookie tin that was just out of reach, her dress lifting up one again. Part of him wished for it ride a little higher, the other part of him wished she would crawl back to the hole she’d come from. It was his cookies that he saved for whenever he wanted a treat. There was no way he was letting her take some. They were his.

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

The cookie tin kept shifting away from your fingertips as you made a grab for it, pushing it back a little further each time. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as you stretched up onto your toes. You huffed as it scooted all the way back and you dropped back down onto your heels. Someone tall must be their owner to store it up so high, or someone wanting to keep it hidden. Your stomach grumbled again, egging you on for the sweet snack.

Fine. You grumbled, stretching your arm out, hand open. To an outsider, it seemed as if an invisible string was connected to the tin, dragging it from the shelf as it flew into your hand. But what you felt on the inside was pure bliss. It was the first time you used your quirk, in weeks. You loved the rush of endorphins it gave you to have control over the object and you smiled. The cool metal of the tin vibrated against your palms, double chocolate chip goodness gripped firmly.

“Oi, new girl!” A gruff voice cut through the silence of the kitchen and you froze, painfully aware that you were naked underneath the dress. Pivoting on your heels, you saw Bakugo standing across from you, leaning against the counter top with his arms crossed across his bare chest. His biceps and shoulders bulged, nostrils flared.

How long has he been standing there? You wondered. Usually nothing could sneak past you, especially when your feet could feel the vibrations of everything.

Then you realised he saw you. It was nothing impressive, just moving a small object to you, but it wouldn’t be long until the rush of power it gave you would call out to be used again.

“Is that your quirk?” He sneered, with an eyebrow raised, “controlling cookie tins? That’s so shitty.”

You frowned. It was anything but that, but you learnt your lesson a few months ago when people challenged you and it went horribly wrong, and so you bit your tongue.

“Whatever, I’m not trying to impress anyone.” You retort back, opening the lid. You saw his eyes dart to the cookie tin, pupils narrowing.

“I don’t think you can impress anyone even if you tried.” He snapped, his hands dropping to the counter behind him as he leaned back. The pose was relaxed, inviting you to prove him wrong.

“Oh yeah?” you challenged, slamming the tin on the countertop, taking a few steps forward. If he wanted to fight, you wouldn’t back down. You were now a meter away from him, and you puffed your chest up to show that you weren’t going to take any of his shit.

“Yeah, dumbass. You fight like a girl, can’t even punch right.” You had to look up to him. Even though you were tall, he was still a few centimeters above you. His eyes glanced down at your chest before glaring at your eyes again. It was so fast that if you weren’t paying attention, you most probably would’ve missed it. The purple bruise on your sternum that he gave you was bright against the skin of your chest, perfectly in between the sun and moon tattoos underneath both your collarbones. His eyes glinted wickedly.

Your body moved before you knew what you were doing. You stuck right your hand out diagonally, a few centimeters away from touching him. He didn’t flinch, eyes traveling to look at your outstretched hand, raising an eyebrow.

“What’re you going to do? Throw the cookie tin at me? Hah.” He barked, laughing at his own joke.

You held your tongue and just dragged your hand horizontally through the air. Your toes pressed into the floor, feeling for the vibration you wanted. His eyes followed your hand and before he knew what was going on, the cupboard door behind him opened and smacked into the side of his head. He grunted and you turned on your heel, walking back across the kitchen. You were no longer hungry, angry at a man that taunted like a child.

“What the fuck!” Bakugo shouted, his voice echoing in the empty space.

“What are you going to do? Swear at me?” You spat back his own ‘insult’. Your comeback felt sour on your tongue. It wasn’t any good, but you were pissed off and anything you said seemed to make him angrier, which was fine with you. “I was going easy on you during training today.”

His nostrils seemed to flare at that last sentence. The palms of his hands began to steam and spark. There was nothing he hated more than people not giving their all when fighting, people thinking they had to hold themselves back when fighting him.

“YOU WERE WHAT!?” He bellowed, his fists clenched. “I’M GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS BACK TO AMERICA!”

If you weren’t already used to intimidating men in New York, you probably would’ve flinched at his shouting, but instead you squared your shoulders and started walking back towards him, your own fist closing. You both pulled back to launch punches at the same time. Then, the air got freezing cold and Bakugo’s fists came crashing down as two thick balls of ice wrapped around them. If he weren’t as strong as he was, he would’ve fallen to the floor. Instead, they dropped to his sides, making his shoulder droop down with the weight. A look of complete shock came across both of your faces and your heads snapped to look at the source.

Shouto Todoroki was standing behind the dining room table, looking extremely pissed off in his beige pyjama set. His half-white, half-red hair messy and shadowing his eyes.

“Can you guys please just shut up and go to bed. You’ve woken up the entire building.” He said, voice dripping with contempt. A slew of curse words erupted from Bakugo’s mouth as he lifted up the ice to bang them against each other, trying to crack them open.

You felt your nipples harden in the now cold room and grumbled, once more aware of just how bare you were. You grabbed your dressing gown that was on the dining table. Wrapping it around yourself as you walked back to the cookie tin to put it away. Bakugo seemed to ignore what Todoroki said, instead calling out to taunt you again. There was no way he was going to let this go.

“What, don’t want to eat the cookies anymore? Fine with me, you were pretty fucking heavy.”

You froze. Through the vibrations, you felt Bakugo adjust his weight to lean back, pleased that it granted a response from you. With the cookie jar away, you strode back up to face him for the final time that night. Shouto tensed up, ready to interject once more. It was a low blow, Bakugo knew it too but his chin was raised indignantly.

You said nothing as you stood in front of him. Your eyes searching one another for a hint that either one of you would back down. The balls of ice were already melting and forming puddles by his feet, the cold water spreading to tickling your toes, so you twisted them out. The cupboard door that you had opened next to his head slammed shut. The loud noise echoed in the kitchen and you turned away from the irritating man.

“Sorry, Todoroki. Good night.” You nodded to him and walked back to the stairs, fuming with anger. You could just hear Todoroki mumble about the time to Bakugo and a scoff in reply, but you couldn’t care enough to pay attention anymore, his insult replaying over and over in your mind.

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Thanks so much for reading Chapter 2! <3 Hope you liked it.