#again like I said taking care of myself in general is really hard

[gayalanwake]

sorry if I become extra annoying im kinda tweaking over being on my own for the first time sooooo I might let myself become extra indulgent 💔💔💔

[candlebel]

I cared. I still do. I still think of you and I still cry over you. You were importat to me. You still are.

[featherymainffins]

I think it's a hatecrime against me that there aren't any slugs as big as the giant African snail. Why do the snails get to have all the fun I just want a giant slime noodle.

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 600!

Here’s a quick 30 min doodle to celebrate! :D

Man time really flies huh

Thank you guys for 3.1k btw!!!

And big thank you to those who have joined me in this wild journey of daily doodles no matter how long you’ve been here. Truly did not expect what started as a joke to make it this far lol

(more stuff I wanted to talk about under the cut)

-A few updates-

General Stuff:

Well, life has been generally pretty busy. And while that’s made it a little more challenging to do daily doodles as of late, it’s been alright for the most part. Some of you may have noticed though that a lot of my daily posts have been showing up as much as 1-2 hours later than the regular time. Unfortunately with all the stuff I’ve been taking care of lately, putting a daily doodle/drawing on top of the pile means it’ll be late very often. I kind of have an unofficial job irl now so this stuffs hard to juggle sometimes.

Hornet’s Strange Adventures:

Initially I was hoping to get a lot of stuff done for this game during October but some recent job stuff is making that pretty hard to do. I probably won’t be able to make any significant progress on this game until very late October and into November. So if you were looking forward to big updates on progress, it sadly won’t be for a while, sorry. Outside of that though, I can at least say that all the routes have been thoroughly planned out from start to finish including the secret route. This includes rewriting some choices that have already been seen during the game’s time on ssed.

About Doodle Requests

I haven’t had them open for a while anyway, but I’ve finally come to the decision that I will no longer be taking doodle requests through tumblr asks/inbox. As fun as it was in the beginning, I often found myself trying to fulfill requests on the daily and that was stressful. That being said, it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m stopping requests entirely. I just don’t really want to do them for free anymore. Since I’m on Hornet Journal Series still, it’s a long way away before anything happens, but there’s a likely chance I’ll only do commissioned doodle requests whenever they re-open. We’ll see as it gets closer though.

Thoughts on taking an actual break:

I’ve mentioned this a lot in the past both here on ssed and on my main blog, but I’ve been seriously considering taking a break. Like a real one. Not just a “I’m gonna stockpile a bunch of doodles and pick it back up when I run out” kind of break. Especially with the way life has been going lately (mostly positive at least), I feel as though I may have to retire from daily doodles somewhat soon if there is no official news by the time this blog hits its 2 year mark. Don’t get me wrong I’ve loved doing this for the almost two years that it’s been going but at some point I’ll have to move on from this whether I like it or not. Does this mean that activity on this blog stops altogether? No. I just won’t be doing daily doodles anymore. There’s a more likely chance it would end up being weekly, or possibly monthly. Just not daily anymore.

Whatever the case, that decision will be considered more when 2 years gets closer. Until then just enjoy daily doodles while they’re still here!

—————————————————-

I think that’s all I can think of to say right now. Might post more thoughts on my main maybe?? We’ll see

Thank you again to all the lovely people that have been here during this crazy journey, you guys are awesome :D

[darby-rowe]

୨⎯ "inches of snow" ⎯୧

young!coriolanus snow ☓ fem!reader summary your boyfriend, coriolanus snow, joins you and your family for christmas dinner, but of course it's nothing short of an insufferable experience. but don't worry, because coryo is there to take care of you!

18+ | nsfw | mdni word count 2,298 cw modern au, coryo & reader are in grad school, it's christmas!!, mentions of food, implied body shaming by family, uh oh grandma and grandpa are being bigoted again, bathroom sex, mirror sex, anal, praise, degradation, sex on the bathroom sink, it's a very anal christmas, coryo has a big dick, ooc(?) coryo, y/n usage, petnames, unprotected sex, spit play, cum play, dirty talk notes i know the title is corny as fuck LMFAO but it made me giggle. also imagine reader in ellen griswold's outift from national lampoon's christmas vacation like the one w the blouse and the green skirt bc mmmmm that fit is FIRE. this fic was slightly based off of this post bc i thought it was just too hot to ignore. this is also NOT proofread so any mistakes you find in this fic... dont talk about it

Sitting down at the pleasantly decorated dining room table, your mother insisted on saying grace before you and the rest of your family could dig in on the splendid feast you and the rest of the women in your family worked so hard on. Your mouth watered at the thought of savoring the sweet potato casserole, the baked macaroni and cheese, the ham, everything at the table was extremely decadent. And it was all displayed out in front of you, and right under your nose.

You were a bit greedy, you had to admit, as your hands were the first to get a generous scoop of the fluffy mashed potatoes, earning a scoff from your ever-so lovely paternal grandmother. Say something, you old bat, you thought to yourself, but a pleasant hand came running to rescue you from your angry thoughts. A slight squeeze on your left thigh made you blush, and you turned your head to grin at your lovely boyfriend, Coriolanus Snow. He gave you a reassuring nod, and you went back to indulging in your Christmas feast.

“So, Y/N,” your grandmother piped up, pretentiously swishing her glass of wine. “Anything interesting as of late?”

You swallowed your forkful of mashed potatoes and peas. “My third year of med school is kicking my butt,” you said, trying to lighten the hostility between you and your grandmother. “I’m definitely finding myself to have less and less free time–”

“And how do you feel about that?” your grandmother interjected right in the middle of your response, causing your brows to furrow. Her attention was now fully on Coriolanus, which you turned your head to see what his response would be.

Coriolanus huffed amusingly. “I don’t necessarily have an opinion on it,” he said. “I am also quite busy with my master’s degree. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, or however that saying goes,”

“We’re just busy little bees,” you said in a light manner, albeit a bit awkwardly. “It’ll all be worth it in the end. All this hard work will pay off,”

Your grandfather motioned his glass towards Coriolanus. “Busy little bees, eh? Bet it’s harder on you than her,” This statement made you nearly choke on your champagne. The crudeness of that man! Oh, if you didn’t know any better, you would reach across the table and slap the wrinkles off that smug face–

“It’s actually not really that hard to endure,” Coriolanus spoke up. “We both know we’ll see each other again after our busy spells and that thought keeps us going,”

You smiled bitterly at your grandfather. “Exactly,”

The table got quiet after that, and you spent a good few minutes awkwardly sipping your champagne and eating your generous plate. You felt your appetite unfortunately begin to dissipate as the unpleasantness of the evening began sinking underneath your skin.

“You know, mother,” your father chimed in. “My wife and I both met during our residency, and you know firsthand exactly how busy I was during that time. The 100 hour work weeks, the skills labs, the exams, my boards. It was hard! But my beloved and I made it through, and I’m sure Y/N and Coryo will also make it,”

“I just don’t see the need in investing this much time in such a demanding career when your husband is already planning on pursuing a career that would help the both of you,” grandmother said to you, making your face contort into one of immense displeasure.

“Coryo is not my husband, first off,” you retorted. “At least not yet, but I’m also not going to be a stay-at-home mom who spends her days dealing with the dog, the baby, and the garden. I want a fulfilling career, too! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against stay-at-home mothers, but that life is not for me,”

“Why not?” grandmother knitted her eyebrows together. “Look at you, dear, with that revealing blouse and that pretty face, you don’t need to be pushing yourself like this,”

“Oh my god!” you cried, throwing your hands up. You finally decided you had enough, and with bitterness deep within your soul, you abruptly pushed your chair away from the table and stormed off.

“Watch your mouth, young lady!” your grandmother called out after you. “You weren’t excused!”

“I’m twenty-five years old, grandma, I can excuse myself,” you replied angrily as you traversed upstairs, your heels clicking on the hardwood material.

Slamming the door to the bathroom, you made your way to the bathtub where you sat down on the cold tiles with your knees folded up against your chest. You buried your face in your hands as you breathed in and out. In… and out…

God, you really hated your father’s parents. So judgy and crude, you were only left to wonder why they kept getting invited over to these dinners. Your parents knew how they chastised you, and even with their efforts to put a stop to their bigoted comments, they just kept going and going and going.

You were proud of yourself. You were proud of the life you were building for yourself. Sure, you still had eight years of school left, but at the end of the road you were going to be a kick-ass trauma surgeon. And Coryo was on the fast track to earning his master’s in political science. Soon, he would be running for congress, and the two of you would be unstoppable.

But here you were, practicing breathing exercises on the cold tiles of your parents’ bathroom. You needed to move out of there. Anywhere but there.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door and the sweet sound of a familiar voice on the other side. Coriolanus, looking as handsome as ever as he gently let himself into the bathroom, joining you on the floor.

“Hey, bunny,” he cooed, taking your hands in his. “Are you okay?”

You grinned dreamily. “Now that you’re here,” this remark elicited a chuckle from Coriolanus, which made you swoon. “Listen, I have to apologize for my family,”

Coriolanus shook his head. “There’s no need to apologize,” he reassured. “You do not have to say anything. You’re not responsible for their actions, not now, not anytime,” he took your hand and kissed the back of it. “Now, how may I make my sweet girl feel better?”

It didn’t take long before the two of you were on each other like two cannibals competing to see who ripped off the other’s flesh first. Your lips crashed and molded into each other as your warm, wet tongues shoved down each other’s throats in desperate attempts to taste the other’s mouths. Coriolanus tasted like the champagne you planned on indulging yourself with later that night, feeling your mind buzz on the remnants of the alcohol. It ignited your nerves on fire.

It took your breath away when Coriolanus spun you around and pressed you against the bathroom sink, forced to look at the reflection. “Look at you, baby,” he panted, his lips red and swollen from the intense kiss he shared with you just seconds ago. “So fuckin’ pretty and fuckable. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,”

You looked at your reflection in the mirror, your eyes scanning the pathetic, needy look on your face. You gasped slightly as Coriolanus grabbed your jaw, preventing you from looking away. “I want you to look while I fuck you,” he said, pressing his hardened bulge into your backside which made your eyes slightly roll back into your head. “I know that pussy of yours is throbbing for me, hm? Is it, bunny?”

You opened your eyes and looked at the blush that was beginning to appear on your cheeks. “Mmm’yes,” you whined. “Want you so bad, please. But we have to be quiet. Can’t let my family hear us,”

Before you could say anything else, Coriolanus’s hand slapped onto your mouth making your gasps and breaths all muffled. “There’s a solution for you, my dove,” he murmured into your ear. “Now, here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to remove my hand and pull up that pretty little skirt of yours. Then, I’m going take off your panties, then fuck you in the ass. Am I clear?”

You and Coriolanus have indulged in anal before. It wasn’t a common occurrence, but it surely wasn’t unwelcome. Your pussy throbbed with anticipation at the thought of Coryo’s throbbing, hard cock in your tight asshole. You nodded, and he removed his hand from your mouth and cupped it in front of your lips. “Spit in my hand,” he ordered, and you drooled a generous amount of saliva into the palm of his hand.

You could hear his wet hand stroke himself in prep to enter you. With your skirt hiked up and your panties gone, you made sure to relax and breathe as you felt Coriolanus push the tip of his cock into your ass. Your efforts to stay quiet flew out the window as a primal, low groan escaped your throat as your ass became full of his dick.

“Fuuuck…” you groaned, hiking your leg up on the bathroom sink to allow Coriolanus to go deeper. God, it felt so fucking good having his dick deep in your ass. So dirty, and so fucking hot.

In a matter of moments, Coriolanus was thrusting his hips hard and deep inside you, making your mouth fall open in a silent cry of pleasure. You resorted to quiet curses and panting to help you express how good you were feeling in that moment. Goosebumps erupted on your skin. There was a slight sting to being penetrated in the ass, but it wasn’t painful to you. In fact, it only added to the overwhelming pleasure building in your nether regions.

“Such a tight fuckin’ ass,” Coriolanus murmured, grabbing your jaw once again. “Look at you, bunny, so fuckin’ needy for this cock in your ass, yeah?”

You had to be quiet. You needed too. But by god, the sound of Coriolanus speaking pure filth in your ears was insatiable. “Yes,” you growled through gritted teeth, your eyes flicking between your face and Coriolanus’s. “Fuckin’ love your cock in my ass, fuck,”

“Such a naughty girl,” he teased, taking a look down to watch his dick pump in and out of your hole. The sound of your panting and groaning mixed with Coriolanus’s grunts, slightly echoing throughout the bathroom.

You whined as you felt him withdraw from your hole, only for him to spin you around once again and help you on top of the bathroom counter. You willingly spread your legs and watched as Coriolanus re-entered your ass before withdrawing completely once more, and then he repeated these actions again, and again, and again.

“Stop teasing,” you whined, reaching a hand down to play with your pussy only for Coriolanus to swat your hand away, much to your dismay.

Coriolanus pinned both of your hands behind your back. “No touching. You’re going to come from my cock in your ass or you won’t come at all,”

You nodded obediently, your body rocking back and forth in time with his thrusts. You could feel your pussy drooling its juices from how unbelievably aroused you were. It was almost uncomfortable how badly your clit ached to be touched, but you wanted to obey your boyfriend’s orders, so you held back.

“My naughty bunny,” Coriolanus moaned. “Your ass is so tight around my cock. Feels so good. You’re making me feel so – fuck – so fucking good,”

Your mouth fell open as your panting grew more frequent. “Yes, fuck my ass,” you whispered. “Make me come from my ass, baby, please,”

“Are you close, love?”

“Yes, yes – fuck,” you threw your head back as moans threatened to escape your throat, your pleasure only heightened as Coriolanus pressed open-mouthed kisses all along your neck. You were about to come undone from just having his cock in your ass, and it was going to feel so, so good.

“Coming,” you mewled, your legs beginning to shake and the familiar feeling of an itching pulsation deep within your pussy. “Oh god, I’m coming from my ass. Fuck… fuck…!”

In an explosion of pleasure that made you see stars, your orgasm hit you like a truck as your juices gushed out of your pussy. You squeezed your eyes shut and gritted your teeth as it took every fiber of your being to not scream out in pure ecstasy. You continued to squirt all over yourself and Coriolanus’s cock. There was no doubt in your mind that your skirt was ruined.

Coriolanus withdrew from your hole to pump on his own cock until thick, white ropes hit your hole. The sound of his moans and groans pleasantly filled your ears. Your legs were still shaking, and you felt your breath nearly get knocked out of your lungs as you felt his shaft re-enter your ass, fucking his cum into you.

It took a good five minutes before the haze of your orgasm left your brain and you were able to think clearly again. You still sat on the kitchen counter as Coriolanus softly kissed your lips, praising you and telling you how good of a job you did.

“I love you,” you mumbled against his lips, holding his face with your hands.

You felt Coriolanus’s lips tug into a smile. “I know you do, my dove,”

It impressed you how well you cleaned yourself up as you prepared to join your family once again, but as you opened the door of the bathroom, your blood ran cold as you found your older sister waiting outside with a disappointed look on her face.

“Really?” she asked. “During dinner?”

God damnit.

don't be shy, let's talk. ♡

[chxrryhansen]

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s concepts 10/50

Character; Bucky Barnes

Kink; Piss Kink (i couldn’t help myself so i added pet play🙈)

Dialogue; “Look at the mess you made.”

Requested by; Anon (X)

As always, this blog contains 18+ content only, your media consumption is your own responsibility, all dark content will be labled as such. Please read at your own risk.

₊♡₊˚ 🍒・₊✧

your throat flared in distress as your lips began to chap and crack, having been wrapped around bucky's cock for the past 30 minutes, it was fair to say they weren't in the best of shape.

you were knelt between his thick thighs, the hard floor, harsh on your sensitive skin as he worked at his desk above you. bucky had made you drink many glasses of water, more than double your daily amount. when you couldn't drink all of the glasses he had graciously gifted you with, he punished you.

claiming you were being ungrateful, that daddy was just trying to take care of you. you had promised you'd be a good girl for him if it meant getting out of a spanking, your ass still sore from last weeks punishment- one that he'd manipulated you into (as usual).

you squirmed, desperate to find some relief as your mouth warmed buckys cock, your bladder beginning to feel more full as time went on. noticing your discomfort, he slumped back against his chair, pushing his long brown locks behind his ear with one hand, his bicep flexing as he did so.

you whimpered, your tongue massaging the underneath of his length making him hiss with surprise as he growled

"i thought you said you were a good girl for me? i think you lied, pup. cause' im pretty sure if you were a good girl, you'd be warming my cock with no complaints like daddy asked you too, hm?"

he was quick to grab a fistful of your hair, pushing you deeper onto his cock as your thighs pressed together, desperate to make him proud.. and not wanting to embarass yourself by peeing all over his floor.

you looked up at him, your eyes pleading, tears streaming down your cheeks.. begging for even an ounce of sympathy. bucky sighed as he pulled you away from his cock, you were instantly opening and closing your mouth, swinging your jaw in circles as you tried to loosen up your locked jaw.

"go on, what's the problem with you now, puppy? what are those pretty tears for?"

"i really gotta' go daddy." you whispered, ashamed, your cheeks flustered in embarassment.

"go where, puppy?" he asked in return, a slight smirk on his face as he stroked your head gently, already knowing what the issue was.

"the bathroom, p-please daddy?"

"yeah? you gotta' go pee, sweetheart? you sure you can't hold it just a little longer for daddy?"

you shook your head desperately, your bladder already felt like it was about to burst, all of that water bucky had pressured you into drinking finally catching up to you, making you tense up in fear of leaking.

he sighed once more as he tutted in false disappointment "well alright then, go on puppy, go pee."

"oh thankyou, daddy! thankyou so much, i promise it won't happen again!" you gasped excitedly, seeming as your owner had been feeling generous... or so you thought.

you began to push of your knees in an attempt to stand when you felt bucky harshly pull you back down, this time sitting you on his thick thighs, straddling him. you looked up at him in alarm, eyes wide, wondering what you had done wrong.

your bladder suddenly feeling even heavier than before as you tried to prevent yourself from pissing out of fear, your thighs clenching tightly together. which didn’t go unnoticed by bucky as he spread your legs apart with both hands.

"where do you think your going?" he scolded.

"t-the bathroom.. y-you said i could go, daddy?"

"silly girl, puppy's don't use bathrooms now do they?"

you cocked your head, puzzled "i-i don't understand."

"of course you don't, dumb little girl, puppy's don't use the bathroom, if you need to pee so badly then do it, right here on daddys lap." he growled, his intense gaze sending shivers down your spine.

he reaches down, pressing his hand against your tummy, pushing down against your bladder as tears of humiliation roll down your flustered cheeks.

“d-daddy, i can’t hold it, i really gotta’ pee.”you squirm desperately, your pussy throbbing with pain, or maybe, pleasure?

"stupid puppy, you gonna' piss yourself, hm? gonna' piss all over daddys lap? shh, sweetheart. let go for me, let go for daddy."

you let out a loud sob as the ache between your thighs is suddenly relieved, before you can even understand what's happening a heavy flow of liquid gushes out of your pussy, soaking through buckys lap and onto his extremely hard cock- which he had apparently just taken out of his pants.

he groans in pleasure "oh baby.. fuck, that's it, you were just so full, huh? so desperate you just had to piss all over daddys dick, what a filthy little puppy, look at the fuckin' mess you made."

he smirks, thrusting his hips into your own, grinding his cock into your soaked pussy making you sob harder in confusion. your brain having not caught up to what just happened.

bucky is quick to pull up your skirt and push your panties to the side, sliding his thick cock inbetween your thighs and rubbing his swollen tip against your entrance.

he swiftly pulls you down by your hips, his mushroom head only just pushing past your walls making you let out a pathetic moan…before a smooth warmth begins to fill your cunt. at first your confused, knowing bucky never cums that quickly, until you look down and see a steady stream of piss leaking out of you.

“fuck… my dirty fuckin’ piss slut, letting her daddy piss inside her silly, baby cunt. you like that? you like being a disgusting, hot, mess for your daddy? filthy little pup.”

you sob into his shoulder, humiliated yet so turned on as his hot piss floods your pussy, running down your legs and dripping onto the floor.

bucky shushes you as he codles your head, rubbing his hands gently up and down your back, his stream still filling you with his warmth, trying desperately to keep his moans and whimpers to a minimum, so as not to let you know how much he's enjoying himself. your silly, puppy brain is too dumb and confused to notice anyway.

"shh, shh, it's okay puppy, daddy had an accident too, see? no need to cry about it, silly girl.” he consoles you, pushing your head back down into his shoulder when you try to move, not wanting you to notice the shit eating grin plastered across his face.

he has you right where he wants you, dumbed out and dependant on him to make you feel better... just like he always does... and just like you always are.

[websterss]

TRUST ME (1) — COLE WALTER

SUMMARY: All he wanted to do was help you overcome your fear of riding a horse by yourself, he would have never gone through with it, if he knew the outcome.

WARNING(S): some fluff, pure angst

WORD COUNT: 4,138

PAIRING: Cole Walter x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

A strange tension lingered between you and Cole after you moved in a few months ago. You had gotten along with the other boys and Parker just fine, but as soon as you came along, it was as though Cole wanted nothing to do with you, or perhaps didn’t know what to do with you around, You had no clue what this tension was based off on, but it had made every encounter awkward. It didn’t help he was always trying to be a flirt too.

Standing near the entrance of the horse stables inside the barn, you watched as Cole fed and took general care of Custard. 

"You wanna ride?" Cole then asked in a nonchalant tone, gaze flickering over to you with a light smirk before turning back to the horse.

“Me? Oh uh…no. Not by myself. I’ve only ridden on the back with someone back home. But I’m too scared to take the reins. Plus I think that horses are the only animals that don’t like me very much.”

Cole laughed at the notion of horses not liking you. He merely hummed in response, stroking Custard once more while he seemed eager to be fed. 

This was the first time you hadn’t felt the awkwardness fill a space with Cole and you couldn't quite explain why it felt comfortable. 

He then turned his gaze to you for a moment, before speaking up once more. “Who’ve you ridden with before?”

“My cousins from my mom's side of the family. They have their ranches so I’ve been lucky enough to say that I’ve been on a horse. Though I can’t say the same about being in full control of one.”

"Wanna try?" He asked gesturing to the horse. The edge to the question sounded a bit teasing.

“Oh no, I couldn’t!” You laugh putting your hands out. “I more than likely will fall off out of pure panic.”

"Afraid he'll buck?" He said, the edge in his tone playful again. "It's not too hard– I promise." He then turned to you, with a slight smirk on his face. "Hope it’s not me that you're not scared of, are you?" He asked.

“You? No…Custard, maybe.” You glance up at the beautiful creature

"He's one of our nice horses. Never nipped at a person in his whole life. Can't say he’s never not bucked off anyone but…You'll be fine." He said with a smirk. "That…and aside from a couple of scratches from his hooves when you try to get on, but trust me you'll be 100% fine. How about it? Come on- I dare you."

“Dare me. How comforting.” You wince as you try to take his reins but he moves causing you to back up. 

“Woah!” Cole says. “Seems like Custard here got agitated by your approach.” Cole himself took a step back with a slight grimace in your direction. “Looks like he really doesn't like you." He breathed out a laugh, turning his back towards you once more. At the same time, you couldn't help but see a tinge of disappointment in his eyes upon failing to coax you to try mounting the horse.

“It’s fine Cole. We can do this some other time, yeah? It’s getting late anyway. Besides, Custard doesn’t seem to enjoy being in my presence so much right now.” You gave a slight grimace.

Cole took a breath in and out but didn’t turn to face you, instead took to stroking Custard before sighing quietly. "We'll see about that," He said with faint certainty as he took ahold of the reins in one hand. "You stay right there." He then turned to Custard, who seemed to calm down a little bit as Cole moved beside him, stroking his mane.

“What are you doing?”

"Getting him more used to you." He said with confidence, moving around the horse with a soft hand. "Don’t worry, he’ll forget you even reached for his reins while scared in the next couple of minutes– he'll start loving you. I promise." He then turned back to you with another teasing smirk.

“I don’t know about that...” You chuckled nervously as he walked him over to where you stood. You made a noise as Custard was only an arm's length away.

"Trust me." He said confidently as he held the reins tight. With your reluctance though, Custard only became more agitated with each step he took closer towards you. He whinnied slightly and stomped his hoof. Cole still had his eyes on you, however– seeing your nervous expression.

“Cole I’m only making things worse-“ You shook your head as Custard stomped his hoof again.

"Trust me..." He repeated as he continued to walk up Custard towards you whilst remaining cautious in his movements.

By this point, Custard's ears were pinned backward, and was quite vocal in his disliking of you  All of a sudden, the horse turned to face you as his nostrils flared. Your heart sank as he started thrashing his head wildly. 

“Cole…” You held your hands out in front of you. Your eyes widened as he dragged his hoof like he was getting reading to charge at you.

Cole's eyebrows furrowed as he gripped the reins tighter, staring at you as Custard tried to take a step forward– almost charging at you.

"Quit backing up. That is the worst thing you can do right now–” He said, his tone stern. 

Custard then proceeded to take another step forward, but this time Cole was ready as he blocked the horse's legs– keeping him in place.

“Don’t move, just stay calm.” You froze like a statue, waiting on Cole for his word. 

He then let out a breath of relief as Custard stopped huffing towards you. He stared at you for a moment. “You okay over there?" He asked, looking at you with genuine concern now. Custard on the other hand seemed to be calming down by the minute, turning to face Cole as he continued to pet him.

“Okay? Yeah, I’m great…other than the fact your horse just tried to charge me!”

Cole's gaze became a bit sharp at the sarcasm. He rolled his eyes. "He didn't– He didn’t charge at you. I’d never let that happen. Now, if you can stop being all sarcastic– that would be great." He said in a rather blunt manner, as he then moved to face you. At this point, Custard had calmed down and was just watching you with curious eyes.

You looked down at your shoes. Feeling stupid for being scared. Maybe you read the creature's body language wrong, then again how would you know? You knew nothing about them. You hadn’t meant to make Custard agitated.

"Look at him..." He said firmly, as Custard seemed to be waiting for you to just give him a chance. "See? He’s doing nothing wrong. He just got scared by your approach, that's all." He then sighed heavily in your direction. "You wanna know how I got him to love me?” 

You shifted your gaze onto him. “H-How?” 

“By giving him the time of day."

“Really?” You eased up.

"Yes really. I was like you. I was scared of him in the beginning. Now he’s my favorite one out of all our horses."

He moved towards you with Custard, reaching out for your hand to bring you closer to the horse. Custard immediately got a little more agitated as he stared at you.

"Look– He won't bite. I promise. He's just scared, like you. Just stroke his mane for a bit." He said, his voice firm and reassuring. Custard continued watching you suspiciously.

“Okay.” You nodded.

He then let your hand go and stood to the side to observe you and Custard. You hadn’t even realized he walked away leaving you two alone. Custard was still looking at you with a curious stare, though that all seemed to melt away upon you finally stroking his mane. The horse then seemed to relax and started lowering his head, seeming almost grateful for the pets.

You breathe out a laugh. Then turn around to look at Cole finding him standing at a further distance from you two. He watched your eyes grow slightly. Shaking his head. “You’re okay! You’re doing good, just breathe.”

You continued to slowly stroke Custard's mane, as he seemed more comfortable with you now.

Slowly, he started to take a few steps in your direction, as you were finally able to reach out and stroke his side. He even seemed to enjoy it. As you moved closer, you could see that Custard was quite a fluffy friendly creature. 

Cole continued to stand to the side, slightly amused by your initial fear as Custard continued to relax under your touch. He found himself not being able to avoid smiling but didn't want to distract you from this moment.

Custard continued to enjoy the attention with his large brown eyes locked onto you, as he lowered his head further.

Cole stared at you in mild amazement. He did not expect you to get this far with Custard considering his attempts to get you to mount the horse. Though it was pretty obvious he was impressed. After a couple of more strokes, Custard let out a happy whinny. He kept staring at you once you stopped, almost as if waiting for you to continue.

"I told you…He's quite nice once you give him a chance." Cole said, stepping closer with a slight smirk.

“You’re not so bad after all…” You muttered softly to the horse. You stroked his hair. A smile adorning your lips. 

The horse now started shifting his head, as he leaned into your hand– wanting more. Cole had walked up to you by now, giving Custard a quick stroke as he happily let out a whinny.

"There. See?" He asked, seemingly pleased with this development.

“Yeah, yeah.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

He let out a low hum and leaned back, watching Custard for a second before staring at you again.

"Want to try riding him now?" He smirked.

“Oh um…” You look back to the horse. Then back to Cole. “You know what…yeah, I would actually.” You offer a small smile.

He nodded and walked towards Custard- holding the reigns of the horse once more.

"Just stay there. I'll get him ready." He moved Custard beside you and started fiddling with the saddle and whatnot. Custard kept watching you with curious eyes and then turned to Cole when he called his name.

You nodded back with a smile. Watching as he moved around the stables with ease.

After a few minutes, Cole had finished setting up the saddle. He then turned to you as Custard looked at you once more.

"You ready?" He asked and you would have noticed that the smirk finally left him as he took off his hat and handed it to you. He wanted to make sure you'd be comfortable riding the horse.

Custard still kept staring at you, though his eyes were no longer suspicious— and seemed happy to see Cole's attention now turned to help you get on him.

“Yeah…” You nodded. “So do I just hold onto here?” You pointed to a spot on the saddle. He nodded and came closer to you.

"Just hold this handle here, and put one foot inside this stirrup. I'll do the rest." He said as he came right up to you and helped you up on Custard, pushing against your bottom to lift you up. He pulled on the saddle straps, and stirrups, making sure you were comfortable and safe. Once you got comfortable, he stepped back and smiled at you again.

"You ready now?" He asked again, though his voice was no longer teasing. It was reassuring.

“Yeah.” He then grabbed the reins and led Custard out the barn doors and toward the training area as he watched you out of the side of his eyes. Custard, of course, seemed quite happy to have you on his back as you went out.

By now, you felt much more comfortable on Custard's back as you held his reins tightly in your hands. He continued to walk around freely, watching Cole every so often.

"You ready to speed up? Or should we take it slow?" He asked you, his eyes still locked onto you as you rode along the fence.

“Speed up?” Your eyes widened. “We just started Cole.” He hummed thoughtfully, as Custard seemed to be getting a little bored from walking at a pace so slow.

"We can take it faster than this for sure. I'll be beside you– nothing will happen." He then looked at you with a reassuring expression and gave Custard a bit of a nudge. "Just take it easy with the reins, alright? All you have to do is hold them tight."

“Okay…okay. I can do this.”

"That's the spirit, you got this!" The horse then trotted forward a little bit faster now, as Cole watched you.

Custard breathed out, as if sighing and testing and judging your experience as a rider, digging his hoofs into the dirt, as though he was trying to indulge how you would react to him now picking up the pace.

“Cole. He’s going faster!” You exclaim. 

He looked at you with an amused expression as Custard started trotting faster and faster. "Just hold on to the reins! It's fine." He said, his voice now being firm and certain.

Custard then suddenly picked up even more pace, going much faster as if challenging you to keep up and take control. You held tight to the reins but in the blink of a second. Panic flooded your mind.

You looked back in Cole's direction, who was still following you with a calm expression before he suddenly spoke up again- trying to guide you towards keeping up with Custard.

"Slow his pace. Just grip the reins tightly and look straightforward. Then, pull the reins back in your direction to make him slow down." He explained as Custard was going even faster.

It was too much to comprehend. Everything was happening so fast that you ended up pulling at his reins instead of gripping them.

Custard seemed to get agitated by this, almost like he could sense your fear. The horse's hooves seemed to be tapping against the ground quicker and quicker now as if you were not quite fast enough to control him. You could do nothing but hold on for dear life as Custard tried to go against the pull of his reins as fast as he could.

“What are you guys doing out this late?” You both turned towards the new voice that started approaching from the house. It had been Alex. Upon the distraction, your grip had loosened on the reins and Custard took this as his chance to throw you off him. You gasped as you fell backwards, your heart sank. Then nothing. Your head colliding with the ground hard first, your shoulder, then your body colliding down next, rendering you unconscious.

“Cole!” Alex yelled running towards you. Having seen you get thrown off. 

Cole was instantly startled by this whole scenario, feeling a sudden panic as he whipped his head around to the thump his ears caught. He looked to Custard who was whinnying away, dread hitting him not seeing you on his back, his face falling as soon as he saw your body on the ground. He held his breath. 

“Y-Y/n.” He called out. Upon realizing you were unresponsive his panic seemed to melt into worry and terror. He was at your side in the blink of an eye, running and falling on his knees hard against the dirt. He knelt pressing his ear against your nose, you were still breathing. 

"A-Alex go get Mom and Dad!" Cole yelled immediately, as he tried to shake you awake, patting against your face to try and get a response from you. When he cradled your head, dread hit him when he pulled his hand away, drops of red staining his fingertips. His breathing hitched. Alex stared wide-eyed, trying to gather his head at the scene before him. When he made no move to go, Cole yelled again, his voice cracking. “Alex! G-Go get Mom and Dad! Go get Mom and Dad now! Go—” He didn't seem to hear a thing as he shook you frantically to try and wake you up. “Y/n– I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, oh god please!” He pleaded, his vision getting blurry from the tears. 

“H-Holy shit!” Alex tripped over his feet as he turned back around and ran for the house. Yell as loud as he could to alert his family. “Mom! Dad! Dad!” Cole heard Alex hear in the distance. 

You remained unconscious as Cole patted against your cheek. His dad and mom ran over after having been awoken by hearing their son scream bloody murder. He watched as Cole tugged you into his arms rocking you back and forth. They had only ever seen him in such a state after his football career was over.

His dad, upon approaching, looked at Cole in complete and utter horror as they both looked at your unconscious body and the horse now trotting next to you both. “She won’t wake up. S-She won’t wake up!” Cole shook his head. 

"What the hell happened?" George asked, looking from Cole to the horse and back to you once more. Cole started to talk, but he still seemed much more focused on you than he was talking to his dad.

"Custard threw her off, Dad. It was bad. She hit head first." Alex hurt in. 

“Oh my god!” Katherine knelt before Cole. Squeezing his shoulder as she took note of the red on his hands. 

“What have I told you boys about riding at night? The horses are supposed to be in their stalls. No riding after dark, that’s our rules, Cole you know this– You two were supposed to be sleeping!” His dad sighed running a hand down his face. “Okay, we gotta go. Alex, go get my keys now.” 

“I know. I know Dad– She just wanted to ride him okay? Who was I to say no to her?” He laughed but it hadn’t reached his eyes. “I thought I could get her used to Custard…” He looked down at you in his arms. Gently caressing your cheek with the back of his hands. “This is all my fault…”

“Let’s worry about whose fault it was after we get her to the hospital, sound good? Can you pick her up?” Cole nodded in response, looking up at his dad with a solemn gaze, before looking back down at you.

Custard was being stopped by Alex, taking hold of his reins. Looking between his parents and you in Cole’s arms. Cole kept stroking your cheek, begging whoever would hear his silent plea to be able to see your eyes again.

"It was supposed to be harmless and simple..." He said quietly. "Not sure what went wrong...I don't think I've ever seen Custard do that before..."

“Sweetie…” Cole looked up at his mom. “We gotta move quick with this okay, before any more serious issues come up. Let’s go get her help.” Cole held a slight frown as he agreed, he inhaled deeply before sliding his arms underneath your back and legs. With a grunt, he slowly stood up. His mom placed your dangling arm against your chest, brushing back hairs that swept your face. 

He looked down at you thinking how you looked so peaceful as you were unconscious. Yet, something told him that you were probably having quite the nightmare right about now. He felt bad that his attempt at trying to help you overcome your horse-riding phobia had ended up like this. Though, to be honest, he hated the way it ended up like this. You weren’t supposed to get hurt. 

Cole looked up at his mother, before looking at you with what seemed to be a guilty look. 

“Come on Cole.” She ushered him forward towards the truck his dad drove up to the front of the house. She turned towards the rest of the party now all waiting at the steps of the porch. She opened up the back door for Cole to let you two in. Danny mostly. “You’re in charge until we get back. Make sure Alex puts Custard away alright.” He nodded, not arguing. 

“Is she gonna die?” Lee asked. Solemn written all over his face. 

“Let’s not think like that right now okay? I’ll call when we have more information.” Katherine sighed and shut the door behind Cole where he sat in the back with you. 

Cole looked up at his dad through the mirror and then down at you. “Please be okay,” Cole whispered to you. Katherine and George looked at one another solemnly as they listened to their son. “I won’t forgive myself if something happens to you…” 

It had been a long and agitated night for Cole. His dad had to keep him from bouncing his leg up and down multiple times and gave up eventually knowing he wouldn’t stop. 

It was only when the doctor called their name that his world had stopped. He had turned from the doctor and his parents, gripping his hair before he turned and began punching the wall adjacent to him. He had broken down in tears as his dad wrapped his arms around him from behind. George sank to the ground with Cole as he tried to take in the news of the state you’d be in after the serious head injury you sustained. 

Your skull had fractured upon impact with the ground. There was a slight crack which explained the blood he found on his hand. The doctor went through the types of treatments they’d get started on you but it was when he announced that he wanted to keep you in an induced coma to let you heal properly that made him see red. For how long though…he didn’t want to know. 

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I'm sorry, bug. I’m sorry..” He wept in his dad's arms. His eyes closed as he rested his head against his dad's shoulder. Katherine placed a hand over his mouth trying to compose herself, not wanting to see her baby in such a state. 

“If you have any further questions let me know. That’s all for now I’m afraid. I’m sorry son.” The doctor gave Cole a sheepish grin before he nodded to Katherine and George, walking off with that being said. 

“Cole–“ George began, but Cole shook his head, pushing himself away from his dad. 

“How long am I grounded for?” He clenched his jaw. 

“That’s not– Hey let’s worry about it another time, not right now.” George rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’re in a lot of pain right now–“ 

“Pain?” Cole scoffed. “You think I’m in pain right now…” He smirked, flexing his jaw. “No seriously Dad, how long am I grounded for huh? A week? Two weeks? A month? Till Y/n wakes back up? If she even wakes up?” He exclaimed.

“Cole, sweetie–“ Katherine went to console him but flinched when he stuck his finger out not wanting to be touched right now. 

“How long, Dad?” He looked through his lashes at him.. 

“I’m not doing this with you right now son.” George clenched his jaw. 

“Why not huh? I can see it in your eyes already. Your disappointment in me. Come on, we both know how much of a screw-up I am in this family. Tonight only proved it further. So how long Dad?” 

“How long? You want to be grounded so damn much then fine…You’re grounded till the next school year starts. Happy?” George let his hands slap to his sides. 

“George!” 

“Super...” Cole smirked then walked back out of the hospital. 

“Cole! Cole! Where are you going?” Katherine called out to him. 

“Anywhere but here.” He threw a peace sign out over his shoulders. 

Katherine turned to her husbands in shock. “Till the rest of the semester?” 

George closed his eyes, regret hitting him instantly. “I know…I’ll talk to him later.”

“Yeah…then you’ll unground him 'cause that is not what he needs right now. Okay– he is very vulnerable right now. You know how he feels about Y/n and this will only affect him more if we don’t stand by his side. Cole needs us more than ever right now. We’re all that girl has. We promised Triny…” Katherine looked defeated. “Please let her get through this…please get her through this.” She placed a hand against her collarbones. Muttering to herself and praying for a miracle. George pulled her into his chest, pressing soothing kisses against her temple as they stood in the hall. 

[blitzyn]

relax

alhaitham x m!reader

Request: well, since requests are open, perhaps I could request an alhaitham X male s/o where s/o has been really stressed lately with school and has been overworking himself. Because of this, alhaitham being the caring boyfriend he is comes to comfort and relax his beloved s/o with sex and aftercare. If possible, pls let alhaitham call his s/o a 'good boy' and just a praise kink in general, tysm!! 💕 — @ezraelo

a/n -> this mf reminds me of my dad so i kinda wrote what I think he'd say if i was in reader's situation tbh. NOT THE SEX THOUGH. anyways pgr fic first then hate sex w/childe next its been decades since I've done him (⁠｡⁠♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠｡⁠) sigh sometimes i forget i don’t have to write so damn much

wc -> 3.6k

cw -> soft alhaitham (heart eyes pt2), anal fingering, anal sex, praise, not beta read

merry christmas and happy holidays!!

To say you were tired was an understatement—you were exhausted. Stressed. Angry. It felt like everything that could go wrong did go wrong.

First, you accidentally woke up late, was scolded by your teacher when you arrived and made the "perfect" example on what a scholar from the Akademiya should not be. Then you had to study for several hours for a few of your upcoming exams and evaluations—all while having to take some more tests the following week.

And as if that wasn't e-fucking-nough, you had done horribly on one of your essays so now you had to redo it for a better score, on top of needing to start yet another one regarding... Something. You forgot what the prompt was. Honestly, you forgot to do a lot of things. Like eat. Or drink water. Which was something that really didn't help to improve your mood.

You stumbled through the door trying to pry your uniform off, haphazardly tossing your hat to the side. You felt like shit and wanted nothing more than to flop on your bed and stay in there for the rest of your miserable life. But, like the universe was trying to give you the biggest middle finger ever, one of the loops on your clothes got caught on the corner of a counter. While you'd normally just take it off and go on your merry way, you weren't having it today and just yanked yourself forward, tearing the loop and the fabric it was connected to.

Finally making it to your room, you flopped on the bed face-first, muffling the loud groan that came from you. You stayed like that for a moment longer before turning your head, remembering to breathe deeply.

Two knocks came from the door. "You okay?" Your boyfriend, Alhaitham, asked, leaning against the frame as he stared at you.

"You're smart. Figure it out yourself," you muttered bitterly, wincing at the accusatory tone in your voice. You sighed, deciding to face him. "Sorry."

He shrugged, walking to sit on the edge of your shared bed. "What's wrong?" He questioned, his expression unchanging even when he watched your brows furrow in irritation.

"It's just... Ugh," you grumbled, rolling your eyes childishly. "Just a bad week. It feels like everything's going against me." You rolled onto your back, arms and legs sprawled out like a starfish. "I don't think I can catch up."

"You're in the Akademiya," Alhaitham said, giving you a look that made it seem like he didn't know why you were complaining. "Obviously it's going to be hard for you."

"'For you,'" you repeated, glaring at nothing in particular, but it was getting increasingly evident that you were beginning to direct your anger towards him. "Of course you don't get it. You've been smart your whole life."

He was quiet for a moment, letting you try to calm yourself before speaking again. "Don't sell yourself short like that. It's unhealthy."

You huffed. "It's not selling myself short if it's actually true." You pressed your palms against your eyes until you saw faint fireworks coloring the darkness. "I have to redo an essay because apparently it didn't go with damn prompt. Then I have to do another one, and I don't even know where to start, and—" you listed off your problems, your voice getting higher in pitch until you were on the verge of shedding tears, overwhelmed with the sheer amount of work you accidentally accumulated.

"Hey," he interrupted you, leaning to place a hand on your thigh. "Calm down." He gave you an unimpressed look when you snapped your mouth open to retort, watching you begrudgingly close it in defeat. "Breathe. You're getting worked up over things you can change."

But when you could hardly focus on utilizing the breathing techniques he taught you, he decided to take a different approach. "Let's have sex, then."

"What? Why? 'Cause of the post-nut clarity?" You sighed, rubbing your temple to stave off the impending headache after staring at him incredulously. Damn. Sometimes you forget how straightforward he could be.

Alhaitham gave you a look. It was deadpan—because when was it not?—but you could still sense the slightest bit of confusion. "If that's how you want to word it, yes," he said, before elaborating. "Sex can also help you relax and improve your immune system."

He quickly looked you up and down, and despite not saying anything, you knew what he was trying to imply. You looked like a mess.

"It can also help improve your quality of sleep," he added, crossing his arms against his chest. "It has a few other benefits than just feeling good, you know." He watched you ponder his suggestion, chewing on your lip absentmindedly before giving in with a sigh.

"Fine. But you're doing all the work," you said, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him better.

"That was the plan." The corners of his lips quirked up in a brief, subtle smirk as he leaned to place his hands on your shoulders to gently push you back down. "Just relax."

He continued when you nodded, running his hands along your body, gently caressing every curve and contour of your frame. An eyebrow raised in question when he felt the torn patch in your clothes but decided against mentioning it as he guided you out of your suffocating uniform with practiced ease. Already, you seemed a bit calmer than earlier, giving yourself a well-deserved stretch that made you remind him of a cat.

You felt the tension beginning to seep out of your body with every article of clothing that was carelessly tossed to the floor, reaching your hands out to tug him closer. He obliged without hesitation, sighing in satisfaction when he melded his lips with yours. His hands slid below your underclothes, snaking them upwards until they found your chest. He tweaked and pinched your nipples as he moved his way downwards, placing kisses along your jawline and neck.

You softly moaned, brushing your fingers through his hair that had him leaning into your hand. He removed your shirt, trailing appreciative kisses down your sternum. A hand made its way down your front toward your pants, slipping a hand inside to wrap his fingers around your flaccid dick. Your breath hitched, instinctively widening your legs to give him better access, much to his pleasure.

He was gentle; his hands were soft and careful, and neither of you were in a rush. You felt your eyes flutter shut as your lips parted with every quiet gasp and sigh that left you, and he couldn't help but stare.

It annoyed him how little you thought of yourself when he could clearly see you as something more. Sure, it irked him how you complained about things that could easily be changed if you put your effort into it, but you were also right. He always had it academically easy and often found it hard to connect with others or understand their problems on a level that wasn't with you. He was well aware of this issue, knowing that it often hindered his ability to comfort, and—for the first time in how long?—it frustrated him.

Even if he had no idea how to properly soften his words around you or to consistently change his facial expressions, he always showed he cared by spending time with you, teaching you new things, or helping you understand foreign concepts. But even then, he was willing to try to tell you that you were more than what those pompous Akademiya professors reduced you to, that you were better than what you said you were.

"Look at me," he said, his voice soft and smooth, coaxing your pretty eyes open. He slipped his hands out of your shirt and cupped your cheeks tenderly, ensuring your focus on him. "It doesn't matter what everyone says about you when they don't understand that you have strengths that rest beyond the traditional Akademiya expectations."

"But that doesn't—"

He gave you yet another stern look, to which you quieted down with a huff. "It's okay to struggle. Everyone does at some point. Even those professors found something difficult before they became what they are. But you know what they did?"

He paused, gauging your reaction. He was aware that what he was saying probably didn't make you feel better or make the most sense, but he hoped that you could feel the sincerity in his voice. "They took a step back, took a deep breath, and figured out what they were doing wrong. They didn't do that overnight or by working themselves to the bone. That's what you need to acknowledge."

"But all my other colleagues are doing fine, and I'm the only one struggling..." You appreciated his words, truly, but they did little to quell your worries.

"Are you? How do you know that for sure?" He countered, sliding his hands down to caress your hips. He watched you pursed your lips, squirming slightly under his gaze. "Point is, you shouldn't try to compare yourself to everyone around you and overwork yourself because that only leads to bad work and a bigger hole for you to climb out of. You have everything else to be proud of—not just your academic qualities. Understand? Besides, you made it into the Akademiya. That's something very few people can do in the first place."

You looked away with a frown, but you nodded softly. Even though it sucked knowing that you weren't the best, he did have a point. Wallowing in your own failure did nothing to better yourself, as much as you hated to admit it.

"Thanks," you muttered, sniffling a little. His thumbs swiped underneath your eyes, clearing away any of the tears that happened to escape you.

"Don't let them define you. Define yourself," he said finally, leaning back down to kiss you again. It was soft, tender, unhurried, like he wanted you to feel every ounce of affection he harbored for you. He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against yours. "Do you still want to do this?"

You nodded again, giving him a quick peck to the lips before wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "Mhm. I really need those benefits." Plus, you didn't favor being horny and sad.

Your lips curved in a smug grin when you saw his own quirk upwards in amusement, but he didn't comment on it. He sat up to tug your pants and underwear down, revealing your semi-hard cock. You shivered instinctively but kept your focus on him, waiting in anticipation for him to continue.

He leaned over to grab a bottle of lube from your nightstand, squeezing a generous amount on his fingers before pressing one into your hole. You sighed, sinking your teeth into your lower lip. He only offered a few pumps of his hand before adding a second one in, gently spreading them apart in a scissoring motion.

He wrapped his free hand around your cock, slowly jerking you off. He rubbed his thumb over the tip to smear the precum across your skin as wet sounds gradually filled the room. You noticed his eyes locked on your face and the expressions you wore, committing them to memory. He added a third finger for good measure, feeling you tense reflexively before relaxing just as fast.

"You're doing so good, [Name]," he praised, his voice low. He curled his fingers, pressing them against your prostate. He could feel his cock twitch in his pants at the sound of your moan, straining against the fabric. "I'm almost done. Then we can start."

You nodded, inhaling sharply through your nose when he began targeting the sensitive spot inside you. You could practically feel every surge of heat shoot up and down your spine, ending at your fingertips. Alhaitham could feel it too, every time your cock throbbed in his hold.

Your body felt warm and tingly when he moved both hands away from your body, wiping them off using a few tissues atop your nightstand. He grabbed the lube again and poured some on his palm to coat his cock, using his free hand to spread one of your thighs a bit wider. He peered up through his lashes, subtly raising an eyebrow in question. He continued as soon as you nodded, slowly pushing himself inside you.

You both let out a satisfied groan as he filled you, grasping onto his wrists as he held onto your hips.

"Fuck," he hissed, pushing further until he bottomed out completely. "You're such a good boy. You're taking me in so well." He perked up in attention when he felt you tighten at his words, noting how your eyes fluttered shut like you were savoring them. He wasn't overly aware of this newfound information, but maybe you had accidentally brought it to his attention now that you're stressed?

Either way, he didn’t comment on it, instead deciding to continue. “You feel so good, [Name]," he praised, leaning down to press his lips against the skin underneath your earlobe. You could feel the low rumble of his voice vibrating in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He let you take a moment to adjust to him before moving, gently thrusting his hips.

You noticed him moving away again as you opened your eyes, finding yourself enamored with the way his muscles flexed in every movement of his. Soft gasps and moans left your lips when you looked up, instantly noticing his gaze on you.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumbled shyly, squirming a bit. It wasn’t that you hated having him look at you—frankly, that’s all you longed for sometimes, it’s just that what you did hit you. Being as vulnerable as you were wasn’t something you preferred, even when Alhaitham didn’t berate you for it.

“You were staring at me, first,” he countered swiftly, and you could hear the rare undertone of his amusement in his voice. It was your favorite sound. “Besides, what’s the harm in looking at the most handsome man in Sumeru?” His monotony nearly made his words laughable, but you could see that he was genuinely trying. Knowing that sent butterflies in your stomach all over again.

You looked away, effectively flustered with all his attention. “It’s embarrassing…”

“Only because you make it embarrassing,” he said, sliding a hand upwards to toy with one of your nipples. He subtly shifted his hips, angling them so that his cock better pressed against your prostate. He watched you intently when you let out a throaty moan, feeling his dick throb inside you.

You reflexively clenched your thighs tighter against his hips, sinking your teeth into your lower lip. You snaked a hand down to your leaking cock, wrapping your fingers around the base to give it a squeeze. “You can go faster,” you muttered, looking down to watch the way he slid in and out of you.

He nodded with a quiet hum, adjusting his grip on your waist to shift the weight on his knees to sacrifice his slower, deeper thrusts for quick and shallow ones. Moaning, you jerked yourself off in time with his movements, unable to tear your gaze away from him, even for a moment. Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you brought your free hand up to bring him closer to you by the back of his head. You kissed him needily and fervently, letting out noises that mixed in with the wet sounds that came from your hole. Your body rocked gently, listening intently to the rustling of your bedsheets and Alhaitham’s deep, husky breaths.

Suddenly, he lifted a hand up to place over your abdomen, lightly pushing down on it just as he buried himself balls deep inside you. He paused for a moment, sighing as he watched you squirm at the sudden stop before continuing, feeling himself move in and out of you. You could feel the heat in your belly intensifying with every thrust to your prostate, back arching, legs tightening around his waist.

“Fuck, I’m…” you panted, clenching tighter around his cock. “I’m so close, ‘Haitham.”

“I know. I can feel you,” he said, gently moving your hand away from your leaking cock to wrap his fingers around it. Quiet slaps mixed in with your soft noises and his breathy grunts as he fucked you a bit harder, eyes fixated on the blissful expression on in your face. His dick throbbed inside you as he eagerly chased after his own orgasm, leaning down to press his lips to your jaw, kissing up towards your ear.

“C’mon, [Name], cum for me,” he whispered, sending yet another wave of heat shoot up and down your spine. You could hardly stop the stream of moans that spilled from your lips as he focused on the tip of your cock, rubbing his thumb on the sensitive spot just below it, as if trying to coax out your cum.

“Oh god,” your voice was strained as you felt the coil in your stomach tighten to an unbearable degree, trying to hold out just a little longer. “F—Fuck! Alhaitham!” You moaned in ecstasy when you finally came, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. You tensed and trembled as your dick spurt cum on your stomach and his fingers as he helped you ride out your high.

“You’re so beautiful when you orgasm,” he groaned, his thrusts beginning to lose rhythm as he neared his own climax. He dug his fingers into your waist tighter, muttering praises into your ear when you began squirming at the discomfort of your overstimulation. It didn’t take much longer for him to finish as he stilled, gritting his teeth when he quickly pulled out to stroke himself to completion. He sighed in satisfaction when his orgasm subsided, leaving your abdomen coated in ropes of his cum.

“Wh—Why did you pull out?” You panted, wiping a bead of sweat off of your forehead.

“Isn’t it annoying to clean up afterward? You're always complaining about it whenever we have sex,” he questioned after a moment, taking a second to bask in the afterglow before getting up to reach for a tissue to clean your skin. He put his pants back on, gathering your clothes to put them in a laundry basket.

You shrugged. “I mean, sometimes. But I’m gonna take a bath either way.” You blinked in confusion when you saw him quirk a brow, fidgeting a bit when he didn’t stop staring at you.

“No. You’re going to sit and wait here while I make you something to eat, first,” he instructed, leaving no room for negotiation. “Afterwards, you’re going to go to sleep. Then you can take a bath when you wake up.”

As if on cue, your stomach growled audibly, quickly reminding you that you haven't eaten anything since yesterday. "But then I'm gonna be all sticky and gross when I eat," you said, knowing how much he disliked having dirty bedsheets for too long. It surprised you when he shrugged, leaning against the doorframe as he waited for you to decide.

"If you want to take a bath first, then I'll help you," he offered. You swiftly nodded, wanting to eat clean and comfortably. He nodded and told you to wait for a moment as he prepared the water for you, leaving you by yourself for a while until he returned. The two of you walked into the bathroom where a bathtub of warm water awaited you. But just as you raised your leg to enter, a sudden wave of dizziness overcame you. Luckily, Alhaitham was there to keep you from falling with a firm hand on your arm, carefully helping you into the water.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his eyes darting across your face for any sign of distress. He relaxed upon seeing nothing but waited for your response for further confirmation.

"Yeah. It's just something that happens when I get too hungry, y'know?" You explained sheepishly, splashing some of the water onto your arms and back.

"No, I don't know." He ignored the way you rolled your eyes. "I'll be right back, then."

You hummed to yourself, not minding his absence as you savored the warmth surrounding you, resting your head against the edge of the tub. You nearly fell asleep in the time it took for Alhaitham to return, jumping in surprise at the sound of his voice.

"Hey," he spoke, returning to your side with a bowl in his hand. "Eat this for now."

He kneeled down, bringing the bowl close enough to let you reach in and take whatever was inside. They were fruits, you saw as you happily grabbed one, tossing it into your mouth. You had to stop yourself from grabbing a handful and eating it all in one go, forcing yourself to appreciate every bite. You noticed him shifting behind you, leaning forward instinctively when he began cleaning your back with a small, wet towel.

The two of you basked in the comforting silence for a while as you let him take care of you until you turned your head to face him. "I love you," you said with a little grin.

"I know," he replied, putting the bowl onto the floor.

"Say it back." You pouted, but you knew he was only teasing.

His mouth quirked up in a faint smile, leaning forward to give you a quick peck on your lips. "I love you too."

[nadvs]

love the basketball!rafe blurbs <333 I was wondering if I can request a blurb where the reader and rafe are still dating and he’s in the NBA, but reader numbs into max like running errands and he tries to hit on her only to find out that she’s still with rafe. whether she has to tell him or rafe comes around the corner mid convo 🌚

thank you so much!! OMG LOVE THIS 🤭

based on this fic

» au masterlist

“they raised the price on this,” she whines.

“on what?”

she points her phone to her favorite snack in the campus grocery store aisle. tomorrow’s the first day of the school year and she’s loading up on food for her dorm.

“so annoying,” she mutters.

“need me to send you money?” rafe offers, his voice low in her airpods. she looks down at her phone screen, meeting his eyes again over facetime.

“i can take care of myself, but thank you, sugar daddy,” she says sarcastically.

“call me that again,” he says slowly.

“shut up,” she laughs.

“how much is it?”

“i shouldn’t have said anything,” she sighs. she puts the box in her cart, because she knows the transfer notification will inevitably come up on her phone.

her boyfriend was already well off before, but now that he’s signed with the nba, he’s even more generous with how much he spoils her.

they’ve been long distance for nearly five months. she’s starting her final year of college while he plays ball states away, but they’ve gotten into the groove of making sure they talk on the phone enough.

long distance was hard at first. but she feels like they’ve finally figured it out.

she turns into the next aisle, then meets eyes with someone she’d really rather not see.

“hey,” he says.

“max.” she only says his name so rafe knows who she just ran into. “hi.”

“still your guilty pleasure, huh?”

her ex points at the box of snacks in her cart. she must have mentioned it to him when they were dating. funny how he remembers, but she doesn’t.

“not really guilty,” she says. she looks down at her phone. rafe’s clear irritation is kind of entertaining. “just a pleasure.”

“right,” max says. “how was your summer?”

“great.” she’d rather keep this short. “i’m in a rush.”

she tries to wheel her cart away but he stops her.

“hey,” max says. “listen, i wanted to say i’m sorry. i know when we broke up, things got kind of tense.”

“tense,” she repeats. “you mean when you started talking shit about me to anyone who’d listen?”

she hears rafe’s chuckle in her ear. she was already a no-nonsense type of person, but being with rafe has made her even more confrontational.

she hated that max told the whole team what a traitor she was for hooking up with rafe. he even turned some of the girls on her squad against her.

max looks away nervously.

“yeah,” he says. “i messed things up with you and i was bitter about it. i didn’t deal with it so great.”

“sure didn’t.”

“is there a chance…” he shuffles in his spot. “this is out of left-field, but could we… go for coffee or something? maybe try this again? i’m not an asshole anymore. i promise.”

she stills, blinking at max.

“oh, my fucking god,” rafe laughs in her ear. “did he just ask you out? put me on speaker.”

she wordlessly disconnects her airpods.

“i’m on the phone,” she tells max, holding it out with the screen facing out. “with my boyfriend.”

“oh,” max says awkwardly, eyes wide when he sees rafe. “i didn’t know you guys were… uh…”

“you done hitting on my girl, hammond?” rafe says.

“i’ll see you around,” max says, pushing past her.

“hope not,” rafe mutters.

“god,” she whispers with a laugh, connecting her airpods again. “that was so awkward.”

rafe smirks at his screen as he lounges on his couch, listening to his girlfriend’s sweet laughter over the phone.

he’s had a hard day. training killed him. his coach was relentless. tomorrow’s only the second game of the season and he’s still feeling the pressure to prove himself. on top of everything, he misses his girl so bad it hurts.

but he has something a lot of guys would kill for. and this was a good reminder of how lucky he is.

[e-r0da]

The gym.

Pro-hero Kirishima x Reader

AN: Posting this again. Got too embarrassed the first time around but fuck it we ball.

CW: NSFW, MDNI. Kiri is a yandere. Reader is afab and referred to with gn. Dub-con, praise, use of daddy/baby pet names, heavy-petting and fingering, oral, dacryphilia, and a smidge of impact-play and ass-play but it’s teeny tiny. Reader is developing Stockholm syndrome but they’re in denial.

Wc: 2.2k

“You want to use the gym? Why?”

“Well...I want to be strong—like you!”

Would he buy that?

You held your breath as Kirishima stopped shoveling food into his mouth, opting to chew slowly as he contemplated your words.

You had been working towards this—towards his trust—for months. Would you fail now?

Subconsciously your feet shift, pointing towards the kitchen door. Towards the escape. Not that it would do you any good if you really needed it.

He swallowed.

“You feeling insecure baby? Don’t get me wrong—“ you saw a bit of a blush bloom on his cheeks “—I love that you think I’m strong…but you don’t have to be.”

Huh.

You had told yourself you would stop immediately if he gave you a hard no…but this was harder to read. You don’t need to be strong like him…? Or you shouldn’t be?

You test the waters.

“I-it’s not that exactly. You know I used to go to the gym…before. I miss it. I miss being able to challenge myself.”

You had to choose your words wisely. This was about what you needed for yourself—not about anything he was failing to provide. Saying anything that even insinuated as much would hurt him, and that wouldn’t work.

In the beginning, when you still thought that you could forge a way out on your own, hurting him didn’t bother you. But now that you’ve realized that the only way out was through Kirishima, well. You were forced to come to terms with the fact that hurting him also made him more overbearing, less generous with your liberties.

So you squirmed in your seat, trying to read his silence before deciding to push harder.

You laced your plea with a bit of vulnerability, hoping that would make it ring true.

“I-uh.”

“Yeah?”

“And I guess some insecurity plays into it, too.”

He leans in. You lower your gaze.

The last part comes out as a whisper. “I mean...there’s nothing left to squeeze...down there…”

Jackpot.

Kirishima let out a hoarse chuckle at your confession. You mimicked him, but your laughter came out of relief. You did it.

“Baby! Baby. C’mere.”

He pulled his chair back, spreading thick thighs to make you a seat on his lap while you made your way over. As you straddle his legs, he starts preparing you a spoonful of the kimchi rice you two had made earlier. It’s covered in runny egg yolk as you like, the gooey softness hiding the spice beneath.

He tells you to open wide before he stuffs you with it.

“First of all, I think you have the cutest tush I’ve ever seen, baby. So don’t say that.”

It’s embarrassing the way he watches intently as you chew and try to nod, the way he wipes off a bit of yolk from the side of your mouth, the way he fusses over you.

But to an extent it also made your heart ache, remembering that it was the way he cared—and continues to do so—that made you initially fall for him.

“—plus, I meant what I said, ‘ya know? I’ll take care of you.” He draws you further into him, guiding your head into the crook of his neck, before sliding the hand between your shoulder blades and then down over the curve of your ass. Your heart stutters in your throat when he places a small peck over your earlobe and hums softly, just like he used to do when things were normal.

“So if that means exercise, hmm… We can go to the gym room starting tomorrow! Oh, and of course I can be your personal trainer and give you pointers…” You release a small whimper at the realization of your success. And maybe just a bit at the hand that was now wandering over your backside. Your mind flickered between that taste of freedom and his actions. It felt so good that you didn’t want to think about the way you embraced them both. He continued on. “…of course I’ll keep track of all your…growth so you don’t need to worry about a thing…and, well, there’s a lot of ways we can get cardio covered without going outside…”

He was working you. So well that you couldn’t help but arch your back, pushing further into his chest as he slowly slid his fingers up and down your clothed pussy before giving it the softest of slaps, jolting your attention back to the present. Back to the man that owns you. The man you were trying to bargain with.

You look up at him, warm cheeks evidence of his effect. His affection. He looks down at you and grins. It’s filled with sharp teeth, interlaced with a bit of hunger.

“I love you no matter what shape you’re in, though. So if you ever wanna stop you just tell me, okay?”

Sometimes you forget this is the same man that keeps you hostage.

“T-thank you, Eijirou. It—this—means a lot to me.” You almost surprise yourself with how genuine your response is. You reason that it’s probably because you had only been allowed into just three rooms—the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen—until just now.

That has to be it right? Gratitude for the man that provides for you so well?

According to that logic it’s only fair, you think, to give him something in return for his generosity. So you nuzzle back into him, placing a chaste kiss in the crook of his neck before ghosting your lips over his ears, testing if he agrees. And the way he jolts beneath you feels like everything you need.

So you take it another step further and whisper for him, like a sin—like a confession.

“You’re so good to me, daddy.”

Just for tonight, you think.

Just for tonight he can be the man you loved again.

You’re rewarded by the feeling of him stiff, hot, and ready beneath you—then of his tongue, demanding and wet as he crashes into you from above with a kiss. He almost growls into your mouth.

“Good fucking girl.There she is.”

You feel yourself clench around nothing at his words, choosing to chase down the shame of your actions by committing fully. You don’t want to stop, not when it feels this euphoric.

Not when you’ve been this lonely.

How long has it been?

How long has it been since he's touched you like this, since he’s lifted your dress and stared at your bare form with such adoration, such heat?

Maybe there was a reason why it's been so long, but now is not the time to remember painful things.

His hands drift back down to your lower half, neglecting his own pleasure in favor of remembering the feeling of yours. When his fingers reach to feel your pussy once more, he groans when he can feel your wetness through your panties.

“Baby, oh baby fuck.”

The light at the end of the tunnel is further than ever before as you plead with him.

“Eijirou, oh—please, you need t—mh! Please touch me.”

Your consent is all he needs to be put into action, thick arms wrapping underneath you as he lifts you up and walks you both to the bedroom, dinner long forgotten. You wrap your hands in his hair, still damp from his shower, as you whine into his mouth.

No man has ever made you feel this needy.

He softly detaches from you to lay you down on your shared bed, watching your sprawled, breathless form with wild eyes. Somewhere in your haze he ties his hair back into a small bun.

“So fucking beautiful, baby. So fucking beautiful.”

He leans over your form, forearms caging you in as he kisses you again. The two of you shake at the feeling of his bulge making contact with your heat, and almost desperately he begins to grind down into you, as if trying to burn through the layers that separate you.

He watches the place where you both connect before releasing a shaky groan into your mouth.

Maybe you know that he’s missed this. But now you realize that you’ve missed it, too.

He backs up a bit to allow impatient hands to trace your form—down the sides of your arms to your hips and waist—then underneath your ass in favor of pushing your thighs to your chest. He stares at the apex of your legs for a moment, deadly silent, before slowly moving his gaze back to yours. It’s red. Everything is red.

Breathlessly, he asks you. “Want my fingers, baby?”

Somewhere deep inside you recognize this moment as a point of no return. And what started as a fight for a sliver of freedom was quickly falling out of your control, but you were failing to realize it.

“Y-yes. Please, Eijirou. Please—mh!”

There would be a special spot in hell for the two of you when this was all said and done.

Your eyes were wide open as his lips engulfed yours, allowing you to watch the way your words sent a violent ripple of his quirk coursing through his body.

The view had you in awe, the feeling only magnified as you felt thick, calloused fingers grasp your panties, moving them to the side.

His desperate breaths on your neck contrasted the gentle ministrations of his hands exploring your pussy, simply feeling its wetness with something akin to wonder.

Why did you make him wait so long, is what fingers seem to ask with the way they hold you.

You try to lean in for another kiss, but he was already gone, dragging your lower half to the edge of the bed where he could watch you twitch and whine from on his knees.

And then he was on you.

You heard a quiet fuck leave Kirishima’s lips but the sound didn’t quite register over the feeling of him dragging his nose through your sex, inhaling your scent deeply as if to ingrain it into his memory.

Without so much as a warning he swipes a finger over your pussy, rubbing the lips from side to side, making you listen to the soft shlick! shlick! shlick! of your arousal—as if he was trying to provide both of you evidence that you still wanted him.

And then he was inside, finger inching into you, eyes glued to your face as you squeezed yours closed in favor of panting softly at the feeling.

“How is my baby doing, huh? She uh—” His gaze quickly shifts downwards “—she miss me?”

“S-so much, daddy” you practically whine. “so much!”

It’s too much, even.

He coos. “I can’t believe I’ve been neglecting my baby like this—” he starts to pump in and out of you, slowly, caressingly. He wants to make you cry. “—want me to make it all better?”

The slight friction had you clamping down around him. You were moaning like he was fucking you, and he just had a finger in. You knew that maybe this would feed his ego, but right now you couldn’t find it in you to be sensible, to care.

“Yes!” His finger starts to withdraw.

“Yes who, baby?”

“Daddy—” you breathe. How could you forget? “—yes, daddy—please daddy.”

A second finger forces its way into your heat, a silent approval of your choice of words that you have no choice but to accept glutinously, a deep hoarse whine slipping from your mouth as you do so.

“Daddy will always give his baby what she wants. Isn’t that right?”

You pant and moan rhythmically with the way he presses against your walls, mental capacity beyond responding. All that you know right now is In. Out. In. Out. And the way he breathily mimics—or matches—your whines as they grow more frantic.

He tells you to hug your knees to your chest and he loves the way you wordlessly comply, knowing how to draw out your more desperate moans when you feel a wet finger slide around the ring of muscle outlining your asshole. Kirishima planned on giving you everything right now. Who knew when you would be this pliable again?

The pleasure you feel when his spit lands on your pussy just a second later—before sliding down and down—makes you want to sob. He’s lubricating you just enough for him to press the tip of his thumb inside your second hole, all the while being your good, consistent daddy that doesn’t stop fucking your pussy with his other hand.

He gets up from his knees slowly, hands still working you, as he moves in favor of having his face over yours, watching your facial expressions transform just for him.

Subconscious tears are slipping from the corners of your eyes, giving him an excuse to lick at your face like a loyal watchdog. Your legs begin to shake. He’s everywhere. Inescapable.

You’re falling, giving in to it, gleefully trying to have it all without thinking about the consequences—when he removes his hands from your body without so much as a warning.

Of course it had to be a choice.

There were a lot of people who thought Eijirou was stupid. Just brawns.

They would never know, at least not as well as you did, how much it hurt to underestimate him.

“…Does my baby want to be fucked?”

You knew he had been waiting—waiting for you to come to him of your own volition.

If you said yes he would take it as you giving in. Of you loving him, in some way or another, like you had before.

After all, breaking you down was always his goal.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

stoic and calm hero x teasing villain??????

“Oh, grumpy…” The villain touched the hero’s neck first and then leaned over, close enough to whisper into their ear. “So tense.”

The villain almost sat down on the hero’s lap but the hero’s hands were on their hips immediately and pushed them back up.

“You shouldn’t do that in a restaurant,” they said. Admittedly, the villain looked perfect tonight. The hero had always considered them to be some sort of devil sent to torture them specifically.

Conflicting feelings weren’t really something the hero understood. Hell, feelings in general were hard to put into words.

They were used to hiding in their offices and lairs, behind a mask or a fake identity. Anonymity was a privilege.

But it was also incredibly lonely.

“Gosh, I am so sorry, my love.” The villain sat down at the other end of the table, smiling softly. “Can’t help myself when I’m around you.”

“Clearly.”

The hero stared at the bottle of wine they had ordered. Did the villain like wine? They didn’t know.

“Don’t tell me you’re on a date,” the villain said cheerily. They reached out and took the hero’s hand, making the hero’s stomach toss and turn.

“It’s a business meeting,” the hero said, keeping their voice low. Although they doubted anyone could hear them, they liked to be more careful when the villain was around. Maybe someone was listening, maybe someone was recording…

The villain’s fingers were soft when they traced the hero’s knuckles.

The hero couldn’t take that kind of heartbreak again. Being betrayed by the villain was the most painful thing in the world.

“Thank god you’re not cheating on me.” The villain winked and the hero’s mouth dried out.

“What are you doing here?” They didn’t know how much longer they could take this. The villain was haunting them, tempting them to let go of all these terrible responsibilities.

They were so soft with the hero, yet mercilessly violent with their rivals. The hero felt a yearning towards them. Their own body betrayed them and wanted the touch, needed it, just as much as the kind words and the soft lips. And yet, they feared the villain didn’t like them in that way.

“…which I told him is not acceptable. So, I came here to say hello!” The villain smiled. “You’re just so irresistible…hey, is everything alright?”

Now, the villain tilted their head, looking curiously at them. Were they…worried? The hero couldn’t afford conversations like these.

“…yes, I’m sorry.”

“You seem upset.”

“I’m…I’m going to get promoted,” they admitted suddenly.

The villain’s hands were still on the hero’s. The villain turned it around, focusing their attention on the hero’s palm. They traced the lines. They traced the scars.

“Isn’t that something we should celebrate? You’ve been doing so well at work, haven’t you?” Under the table, the hero felt the villain’s foot teasing. Rubbing their shin. They didn’t want this moment to end.

A part of them — a very weak part of them — wanted this to be an evening with the villain as their spouse. They wanted that kind of reassurance and they wanted that kind of comfort. They wanted the villain to touch them and take care of them.

They wanted the intimacy but that was ridiculous. They were too different. It wouldn’t work.

“It means I’ll be basically chained to my desk. I won’t fight you anymore,” the hero said.

The villain’s face fell. They were clearly disheartened.

“Oh…”

“I tried to turn it down but they insisted. It feels more like a punishment if I’m being honest,” they said. “I’m really sorry.”

And then, the villain’s face softened.

“Don’t worry about it, you won’t get rid of me that easily.” They squeezed the hero’s hand with a warm smile. “You’re my favourite nut to crack. And I’ve made such progress already. I won’t let a messy work schedule ruin that.”

They stood up and the hero’s heart skipped several beats.

Was this another plan? Another scheme? Was the hero being seduced? Their doubts made it difficult to enjoy the situation, to enjoy the proximity.

The villain hadn’t betrayed them in months. The last betrayal had been of professional nature and they had apologised for it.

The hero knew they couldn’t allow themselves to fall for their enemy, it just wasn’t…

“You look incredible tonight, by the way. Whomever you’re meeting is going to have a great view.” The villain leaned down and pressed a kiss to their lips. Sweet. Short. Kind. The hero’s heartbeat skyrocketed. “Good luck with this business meeting, darling.”

Their fingers went over the hero’s shoulders to their neck. And with that, they walked out of the restaurant, leaving the hero even more doomed.

[buckybabesonly]

Dirty Little Confession

Summary: Part 2 to Dirty Little Secret, can be read as a stand-alone. You and Bucky start dating, and during your first time, he tells you exactly how he used to fantasize about you.

Pairing: Bucky x Female!IReader

Genre: Smut / PWP

Warnings: Use of pet names (princess), dirty talk, size kink (kinda), Bucky being nastehhh and telling you exactly what he wants to do to you, first time having sex with Bucky, unprotected sex

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: You guys asked for it 👀 Also sorry but just could not for the life of me find an appropriate saucy gif for this one so enjoy a generic long-haired Bucky gif cos he still be adorable. And I just hit 1,000 followers today! Thank you!

You giggled as your back hit the mattress, bouncing slightly as Bucky crawled over your body, relentlessly kissing your mouth, your neck.

Nervousness laced the sound of your laughter - your heart was beating rapidly, blood rushing to your face as you tried to catch your breath.

“You okay?” Bucky murmured against your skin, pulling back slightly to study your face. His body was so warm, comforting like a heavy blanket.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “Just - just nervous.”

He gave you a reassuring smile, pecking the tip of your nose.

“Don’t be. I’ll take care of you.”

His words made you shiver in anticipation, a small moan escaping your lips when he placed a knee between your thighs to separate your legs, his mouth reattaching itself to your neck and down to your collarbone.

He wanted to worship every inch of your skin, now that he finally had you in front of him.

“I used to think you didn’t even know I existed,” you said suddenly, your fingers threading through Bucky’s soft brunette tresses. It felt like a daze, having him on top of you, caressing you.

He chuckled, looking at you once more. “Believe me, I knew.”

“Mmm-hmm.” As you suspected, your crush on him hadn't exactly been subtle, and he probably noticed the way you ogled him all the time.

“I used to think about you all the time, too.” He nibbled your ear lobe gently, his voice deepening. “Used to get myself off every night imagining what I’d do to you.” His right hand slipped under your shirt, pulling down the cups of your bra and massaging your breast, making you gasp.

If you weren’t riled up before, you definitely were now. You groaned at his words as he slowly began to grind his clothed crotch against yours, all whilst continuing his ministrations on your breasts. You could feel how hard his cock was through his jeans, and you wanted nothing more than to rip off your clothes and have him inside you right now.

“Did you really?” you asked, wanting - no, needing him to tell you more.

“Yes,” he growled. “How could I not? Seeing you every day, looking at me with those eyes. Took me a long time to get the courage to ask you out, though.”

“You can say that again,” you joked, trying to maintain your focus as Bucky continued sucking and licking your neck in between his words.

“I was nervous,” he smirked. “Imagine that.”

“So what did you do?” you promoted, feeling your core burning with need. “What did you think about?”

Bucky smiled to himself, understanding exactly what effect his words were having on you and your body.

“Sometimes, I’d think about bending you over at your desk,” he began, sitting back on his haunches to peel off his shirt, his muscles flexing. Your hand lifted reflexively to touch his abdomen, marveling at the chiseled muscle. “I’d lift up your skirt, tear a hole in your pantyhose, take you right there and then.”

He lifted your torso up off his bed, holding you against him so he could hook his fingers under your shirt and lift it off, revealing yourself to him.

"Other times, I'd think about fucking you in the shower. I'd have you pressed up against the tiles, legs around my waist, and I'd have you bouncing up and down on my cock."

He loved the way you looked in your simple black bra, but liked you more without it, unhooking it deftly with a snap of his fingers.

"I'd think about having you on your knees, my cock in your mouth, you'd be gagging for me. I'd cum all over you pretty face."

The way he undressed you piece by piece, like unwrapping a gift, left you feeling a tad impatient. His dirty narrations was making you soak through your panties.

“Bucky,” you whined in minor complaint as he tossed your bra aside, pushing you back down so he could latch his mouth onto your left nipple. His tongue swirled around, licking and flicking it. He swapped to your right breast to give it the same treatment, capturing your nipple gently between his teeth and pulling.

“You moaned exactly like that in my fantasies,” he marveled, feeling his cock straining. But he wanted to make this last, savor his first time with you. “My dirty little princess.”

The lewd nickname made your folds even slicker, and you lifted your hips to buck against his, wanting him to give you something, anything.

His hands moved down to remove your jeans and panties at the same time, and you eagerly shimmied your hips to help him. Once your clothes were discarded to the side, he unclasped his belt, the sound making you salivate in anticipation. He slowly, slowly pulled his belt through the loops of his jeans, making a show of it, relishing how you eyed his crotch.

"Next time, I'll tie you up with this," he said casually, weaving the leather through his fingers, "but not tonight." He discarded the belt and shed the rest of his clothes, giving you the view you had been waiting for.

You were both silent as you looked at each others naked bodies for the first time. When you imagined this moment, you thought you would self-conscious and exposed, but the way his gaze roved over your body made you feel reassured. Loved. He looked at you almost in awe, his tongue pushing the inside of his cheek as if he was decided which part to devour first.

Your eyes became fixated on his huge appendage, slightly curving up towards his stomach, tracing the veins that ran along its length. The head of his cock was red and throbbing, aching to be put inside you. You were somewhat shocked - and intimidated - at its size, but you just knew how good it would feel sheathed inside your cunt.

A ravenous look appeared as his eyes drifted, first across your face, then to your breasts, then your cunt, presented to him in all its wet glory. God, finally.

“I’ve imagined this so many times,” he said lowly, his tongue wetting his lips. “So. Many. Times.”

You reached down between your legs, for his cock. He thought he would stop breathing when your soft hand wrapped around his girth, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence. Your grip tightened as you stroked him, thumb lightly sweeping over the top of his dick, admiring its thickness and weight.

“Fuck,” he hissed, head falling back. He couldn’t wait any longer, hand reaching out blindly to find the condom he had placed on his bedside table earlier.

“No,” you said suddenly, making his eyes snap open. “No condom.”

He froze, feeling his arousal grow all the more but needing to know that you were certain.

“Are you sure?” His voice was gentle. “I don’t mind using one, princess.”

“I want you inside me,” you said desperately. “Bare. I want to feel you. Please?" You added at the end, peeking up at him through your lashes shyly.

Now you had said that, there was no holding back.

A near animalistic sound released from the depths of Bucky’s chest as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Thought about this moment so many times,” he grunted. “Thought about how you would whine like a kitten whilst I fucked you with this cock. Think you can take all of it?”

The size of his dick made your pussy clench. Whilst he might not have been the longest that you had (although he was getting there), he was definitely the thickest, and you could only imagine how it would feel.

“I’m not sure,” you confessed, your nerves revealing yourself to him once more. His face softened as he brushed his thumb against your cheek, moving down to cup your chin.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow,” he said. “You ready?”

You nodded frantically. “Need you. You have no idea.”

He chuckled, the sound like honey. “Princess, I’ve not had sex since the 40’s,” you scoffed, but your face fell when you realised he was being serious, “you have no idea how much I’m holding back right now.”

“What?” you blurted out in shock, nerves rising again. “What if it’s not as good as you remember?” It was a dumb thing to say, but you didn't want to disappoint him. First time having sex in over 70 years was a long time.

“Trust me. This will be worth the wait.”

You felt the tip of his cock prod you, and you kept your eyes fixed on his beautiful blue ones when he breached your entrance, his mouth parting slightly. He was monitoring your expression for any sign of discomfort as he slowly entered you, stretching you open.

You could feel your walls struggling to accommodate him, and you forced yourself to breathe slowly and relax, delighted when your core gradually began to swallow him up.

“Ah - fuck,” you cursed, one hand reaching up to press lightly against his chest, startling him as you rarely swore. The stretch was delicious, the pleasure beyond anything you could have imagined. God, you had barely even started and he was making you so needy.

“You okay?” He stopped his movements, making you grab onto his shoulders with both hands instead.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you panted, nodding. “All the way. Put it all the way inside, now.”

He smirked, the corners of his mouth twitching as he thrust the rest of the way inside you, making you release a guttural sound of pleasure.

“You like that?” He asked. “Tell me how much you like it.”

“So - so big, Bucky,” you gasped breathlessly, “so huge.”

He propped himself above you, and you could see his arms slightly shaking as they braced themselves on either side of your head. He was holding back.

“You can move,” you reassured him. “Just fuck me.”

"Your wish is my command," he grunted, and he began to move.

The thrust and slide of his dick inside your pussy made you both moan simultaneously. The feeling was electric, and you swore you could feel every vein of his cock as it dragged along your walls, filling every available space, probing your depths.

He began moving at a steady pace, fucking you with vigor, his eyes watching how your breasts bounced with every movement, how you closed your eyes blissfully and kept your mouth open to release a steady aah - aah - aah - aah with every snap of his hips.

"It feels so good, please don't stop," you garbled almost incoherently.

He couldn't believe how tight and warm you were around his cock, massaging him, threatening to tease an early release from him. You felt so good, and he sat back on his heels once more, hands on your waist to pull you down onto his cock, slamming into you harder.

"Oh God, Bucky."

The way you said his name made him even harder, if that was possible.

"Fuck, princess," he managed to spit out as he fucked you harder, fingers digging into your supple flesh as he drove his cock into your aching cunt. "Imagined this so many times. Touched myself all the time thinking about how I was gonna ruin your pussy. Now I finally got you here, and you're so tight and hot around my cock. You're taking it all so well."

He lifted your legs suddenly and placed them on top of his shoulders, allowing him deeper access into you. You were practically bent in half as he leaned forward, drilling his dick into you. In this position, he was able to kiss you, and his tongue licked into your mouth, hungry and desperate. He didn't even want to give you time to breathe, desperate to taste you on his tongue.

You were trembling as he continued fucking you relentlessly, the pleasure building up in your center in waves, reaching the crescendo.

"More, Bucky, I need more," you begged, holding onto his biceps, nails dragging along his skin.

You squealed when he flipped your positions without warning, moving with the grace of a cat, rolling onto his back and pulling you so that you were on top. He raised you easily back up and onto his cock like you weighed nothing, and continued to lift you up-down, up-down on his cock.

"That enough for you?" he asked, a seductive arrogance soaking his voice.

You were not composed enough to respond as you tried to hold onto his forearms for balance all the why he continued to move you on top of his dick like a doll, his face contorting in pleasure.

"Feels - so good," he exclaimed, his voice gravelly like he was struggling to voice exactly just how good it felt. "I'm gonna cum."

You could feel yourself reaching the peak already, sweat glistening against your skin as you panted and moaned, your hands lifting to your own breasts to squeeze and play with them.

The sight of you, moving like a jackrabbit on his cock, hands cupping your own tits, was a sight that sent him over the edge. He quickly lifted you off his cock, his hand grabbing his slick length and stroking him through his orgasm as he shot his seed all over your belly, high enough to almost paint your face, his groans loud and clear as he sent his creamy cum all over your torso.

You mourned the loss of his dick inside you, wishing secretly that he had cum inside, but didn't have time to voice your complaint when he laid you on your back once more.

"What are you doing?" you asked breathlessly as his chest heaved, his cock still semi-hard.

"Admiring the artwork," he murmured, giving you that god damn smirk again before his face disappeared between your legs.

You held onto his hair, nails scratching his scalp as his tongue delved past your folds, licking your combined juices, flicking your clit playfully as you struggling to hold back your screams.

"You taste good, princess," he complimented briefly before continuing to eat you out, the muscle in his mouth working on you expertly, dragging your orgasm out.

"I'm nearly there," you whined, and he kept up a consistent pace, doing his utmost to pleasure you as you felt your high approaching. "Oh, don't stop Buck, keep going, keep going - OH!"

Your orgasm reached the top and spilled over, making you convulse with pleasure as Bucky grabbed your thighs to keep your legs apart, his tongue lapping at every part of your pussy he could access, making you writhe uncontrollably.

The aftershocks it ran through your whole body, literal tears springing to your eyes at the pure ecstasy of it. The feeling was blinding white, addictive.

"That feel good, princess?"

He took your gasping as a definite yes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he covered your body with his once more, kissing your swollen lips yet again.

"That was amazing," you said eventually, your breathing loud and blood gushing in your ears as you tried to focus your vision. The orgasm had been unlike anything you had ever felt before, like you had lost total control of yourself, but it was exhilarating.

"You were amazing," he said, sucking your skin delicately, his hands roving as if he just couldn't get enough of you.

You giggled when he pulled the covers over the two of you, wrapping you up in his arms, continuing his whispers of what else he was going to do to you.

"Hey, I was just looking at this report and - holy shit, is that a hickey?"

"Nat!"

[s1llyalabaster]

Not the way you expected - Cyno

Where the General Mahamatra, Cyno takes care of you.. but in an unexpected way. ~800 words, Fluff and crack

Another one of your hacking coughs ricochets off the walls of your bedroom. You laid in you and Cyno's shared bed, sore body taking up the whole bed. Yet, nothing would ever be on par with being in your lover's arms. Obviously, he was muscular enough as the General Mahamatra to purge the wrongdoings of criminals all over the vast lands of Sumeru ; but that doesn't mean that he was uncomfortable to lay on, of course not!

Unfortunately for you, Cyno seemed to be working overtime, which was odd for the justice -pursuer as he usually left impressively on time, dropping his headpiece and weapon in seconds. At this point, you were sweating under the piles of blankets - some borrowed from Collei, yet too cold to put them away. Stuck in this dillemma, you decide to get out of bed and wobble out of your room, unsteady footing taking you to the kitchen to fetch some water.

That would turn out to be a very bad decision.

The next time you opened your eyes, you would be laying limp in Cyno's arms, but not in the way that you wanted. 'Great timing, Cyno...' you thought.

"Hey, hey! Can you hear me? Do you need me to take to you Tighnari?"

You'd never heard him sound so frenzied and frankly, out-of-charater. Yes, you've broke through his calm and cold composure to reveal softer and much, much funnier sides of him, but this wasn't something you expected nor wanted to see.

"I'm fine, Cyno...Just give me a second to steady myself, " You creaked out, slowly getting back on your feet as you found the nearest couch or chair to sit on. Your hazy vision searched for Cyno's worried eyes. He looked distraught, as any normal person would be in this situation. Coming back home to your beloved passed out on the ground would evoke some sort of panic even to an ever the cold-hearted person.

"I knew you left work early, but I didn't expect it to be this bad, " He said, voice still fast-paced from the lingering distress. Cyno positioned your arm to go around his shoulder, as he hoisted himself up while carrying your torso and legs in a "bridal carry". Occasionally taking wary glances at you, he began to walk to your shared room. And at last, you returned to your bed once again.

Cyno gently put the back of his hand against your forehead, feeling your burning skin. "We've gotta get that down somehow," he glanced around the room for anything that he could use to cool you down, and ended up grabbing a towel and water, then putting it on your forehead. "uuuuugh... so cold..." Your hand instictively went up to your forehead, but ended up interlocking fingers with Cyno. "You've gotta stay still for this to work, okay? I know it's hard , I've had one hell of a day, too."

Once you heard of his troubling day, you started to feel a bit guilty. As aforementioned, he'd already known of your sickness, but some part of you still wished that you didn't get sick, so you wouldn't have to burden him. Fever making you a bit unstable, tears started to well up in your eyes. "What's wrong, my love?" Cyno uses his free hand to caress your cheek, the other still holding your hand, giving it a little squeeze. "I just...feel so burdensome. I don't want you to come home from a bad day and have to take care of me." You sniffled.

"Don't ever feel guilty for asking for help or care, alright? That's my duty as your lover, and if anyone tells you otherwise, I'll take care of them," Cyno firmly stated, a threatening aura bubbling off his words. You smiled, how did you manage to find someone like him? You were just a regular researcher in the Akademiya, and you managed to meet him through your stoic senior, Alhaitham. During a group dinner, his jokes made you laugh (they were quite terrible, but you'd never admit it to his face.) , and his relaxed and laid-back demeanor out of work was really attractive to you.

"Hey, how about I tell you a joke to make you feel better?"

"...?"

"I don't trust the trees in the Dharma forest, they seem kinda....shady."

His deadpan face was what made you crack up the most, the way he delivers his jokes so unemotionally was really the charm point. Your giggles turned into loud laughs, and then into even louder coughs, bouncing off the walls yet again. Cyno's eyes widened at your hacking, and quickly went to rub your back to soothe you.

"Maybe I shouldn't have done that..."

"Nah, I'm better off coughing than crying."

(why do i only write for purple characters: sampo, ratio, cyno)

(sorry gepard)

[andhumanslovedstories]

hi! i'm gonna overshare a little bit but i'm doing my nursing prereqs right now and i'm really worried. i'm kind of really mentally ill and i've been worrying recently if nursing is worth it. i want to help people and it sounds so interesting and i love medical stuff but i don't want to get burnt out with the stress and long hours. someone told me that nursing is a lot like being a restaurant server, and i don't want to go to school and get a degree and a career that's literally just serving again. is it satisfying? is it rewarding? is it soul-killing? i'm scared

hi there! I'll overshare in return! I'm just coming off three months of disability for burnout (which for me is just depression but with a name you can use in the workplace). My job didn't cause my depression, but it certainly exacerbated it. The hours, the stress, the constant exposure to people suffering and the limits on your ability to do something about it, all those suck and they can break your brain. (On the other hand, I've been majorly depressed while working at an ice cream parlor where the walk-in freezer was for smoking weed. You can be depressed anywhere.)

And it is a hard job! Harder in some parts of the field than others. Different places have different nursing cultures, different laws, different staffing, etc. Where I work, there's good protection and advocacy for nursing. That's not true everywhere.

With all that said--I really like nursing. I get to do work that I know contributes good to the world. I get to solve very practical problems. I meet people I would never otherwise meet. I have the opportunity every shift to do something that I am proud of. And a lot of times, I find it fun! It's fun to brainstorm how to make someone who's been puking all night feel better. It's fun to see your efforts rewarded, even in small ways. It's fun to stop something before it becomes an emergency. It's fun bustling around, juggling a dozen different things. It's not ALWAYS fun. But for me, the work is not just meaningful but also enjoyable.

That's how I knew I had bad burnout btw. Even when things went well and I did work I was proud of, every shift was such a fucking slog.

If you are interested in the basic work of nursing (managing the human response to illness and promoting health), then there's a million and one jobs you can do with a nursing degree. They cater to different traits. I've discovered I really like precepting new nurses, I like working on the floor with its routine and concrete goals, and I like symptom management. I don't like critical care or the emergency department or working on stuff that isn't patient care, like paperwork and charge nursing. I like novelty but not chaos. I like independence but not being left entirely to my own devices. I like that I physically cannot take any of my work home. I do not like being on committees. So for me, right now at this point in my life, I like being a basic med-surg night shift float pool nurse. I would be absolutely miserable as a neuro ICU critical care day shift nurse. I would be bored to death being an inpatient rehab night nurse. Being a nurse manager would probably make me suicidal again.

If you find the basic work interesting and rewarding, you can tailor it to your taste. (I can't recommend floor nursing enough for the adhd havers amongst us.)

and last thing, regarding mental illness: I think a lot of nurses (and ppl in healthcare in general) struggle with mental illness way more than they think they do. Someone who knows they have depression and works to manage it will likely be more resilient than someone endlessly pushing through their fatigue and misery. Probably a better nurse, too. I take meds, go to therapy, get sleep, push myself to eat, take sick days, protect my limited energy, do physical activity--I'm a gym girlie now!!--because I'm treating a disease I know that I have. Just knowing that there's something up with your brain and doing something about it puts you way ahead like half of the people who work the emergency department.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

OH GOD YOUR REQS R OPEN, i would rlly like to request something, could you write an one shot of price with a little daugther reader? just like, him coming home and spending some time with his little girl, she tells him about her school, he tells her some funny stories that happened while he was at work, he cooks her favorite meal, just a big fluff, i love this man more than anything and i just need some paternal love LMAO, feel totally free to deny! do everything in your time and remember to take good care of urself!

Memories of Youth

Pairing: Father!John Price x F!Daughter!Reader

Synopsis: It was hard being away from his little girl, but warm mornings spent in each other's company were blessings - even if they were far and few in between. It didn't matter the form.

Word Count: 4.5k (short and sweet)

Warnings: Angst (just a little cuz I can't help myself), a lotta fluff, banter, just good platonic/paternal relationship in general, etc.

A/N: Didn't specify if the reader was adopted or blood-related, so that's really up to you! Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He got the call at the halfway point of crossing the English Channel, Northern France behind him and Southern England just on the horizon line as the sun began to spread its orange glow over the waves. Sitting high above the water in a slick black Heli, John Price’s hand snaps to his side pocket, fingers deftly peeling back the layers as the overwhelming sound of helicopter blades shakes the hull. 

The rest of Task Force 141 watch with varying interest, only Gaz taking notice of the sudden frown that mars his Captain’s face; the furrowed brow, and the spark of concern in his eyes. A call was unusual. The Sargeant tries not to intrude, but can’t help the way his body lightly shifts so he can have a better view.

John doesn't bother to look at the contact when he takes the device out, rapidly pressing the answer button and slotting the phone at his ear, tilting his head so his opposite rests at the junction of his shoulder. It only stops a fraction of the noise, even so, it would have to do for now. But with how his ears were already straining to find a sound over the line, he may not need to force out the jarring racket after all. 

Inside his chest, John’s heart is racing – confusion laces his mind. This was abnormal. 

I told her only to call if it was an emergency. What could she have gotten herself into now? I said to stay out of trouble…

“Where are you?!” The Brit has to shout down the line, his familiar deep accent loud and guttural. 

His mind flies through every possibility. An intruder had broken into the house, you had broken your arm falling down the stairs again, or a fire had broken out in the kitchen. Fuck…he was too far away to help if anything bad had happened. John’s jaw clenches, eyes looking out over the water as the bucket hat on his head flops in the wind. It was only a product of his job that made him think like that; years of intuition and thinking on the fly leading to his mind making up the worst scenarios. 

Especially when you called on a secure line when he told you it was only appropriate for life-and-death situations. Especially when it was his little girl.

I told ‘er about the Pistol in my office, yeah? The Captain asks himself with a steel-like resolve. And gave her Laswell’s number?

John’s fingers tighten over the phone when he hears your breath over the line, a shuffling of clothes, and a deep exhale.

“Sunshine!” He tries again, sitting up straighter as his pulse gets faster. Why isn’t she answering me? “Where are you right–”

“We don’t have anything for breakfast.” Your voice is heavy with sleep; fatigue drowning the syllables and holding them under the very waves that rage under John only separated by thin sheets of metal. 

The Brit stops. His body freezes, and as the tense minutes go by his panic falls away and leaves a thick stain of annoyance resting behind his eyelids. Of course. John brings two fingers to his nose bridge, digging into the skin until tiny crescent moons are left behind; he has to take a deep breath before answering, but his tone leaves nothing to the imagination.

“...Breakfast…?”

“Yeah, Old Man, you need me to spell it for you? B-R-E-A-K-F-A–”

“Enough!” John barks stiffly and has to hold back his anger as you laugh from the other side. Ever the jokester – did you not realize how serious this was? How fast your father’s heart was racing with adrenaline? 

Fuck, he had just about been ready to radio the cockpit and force the pilots to fly faster.

Across the way, Ghost locks eyes with the man, and with a tilt of his head and a loud call he asks, “That the Mutt?”

The Captain’s eyes slip back into a firm blank slate.

“Affirm.” John tilts the phone away from his mouth, ignoring your sarcastic comments to catch his sanity for a moment and respond to his Lieutenant.

Simon blinks as Johnny perks up at his side, looking in from the view in favor of the Captain with newfound interest. A bright smile forms over his scruffy cheeks

“She all good?” The skeletal man asks, and Gaz smirks lazily tapping his fingers over his knee, immediately noticing your shenanigans and the way the Cap was so worked up. 

But anyone would be when they had a daughter thousands of miles away.

John simply nods once with an exasperated expression to Ghost. MacTavish snorts out a laugh, knowing the context of the situation without having to think hard.

“Is that Uncle Simon?” You ask, and with a scratch at his beard, your father hums in confirmation, letting the sound of your voice put him more at ease. She’s just fine. “Tell him I want him to come over and play Mario Cart with Gaz, Johnny, and me again! He wiped the floor with ‘em last time!” 

There’s a clinking of pots and pans as you move throughout the house. 

“Sweetheart,” Your father grumbles, sighing through the call. His voice takes on the authoritative tone that works for both soldiers and teenagers – but it rarely works on you, despite that fact. Took after your dad too much, is what John would say. Never listened until it was absolutely necessary. “What did I tell you about callin’ this phone when I’m away from the house?”

He hears your scoff and raises a warning eyebrow, though you can’t see it. You know your dad enough to know he’s doing it despite being separated. It was pretty common.  

“Not to, unless it’s an emergency…But I’d say food is a big enough reason, y’know? Unless you want me to eat the leftover cake for breakfast – which I haven’t thrown out as a possibility yet, honestly.”

“You’re not eatin’ bloody cake for breakfast. You’ll get sick.” Gaz snickers, turning his face away to hide the amusement at the comment. 

It hadn’t been a surprise that the Captain’s daughter was such a familiar creature – they saw traits reflected every time the two were together. Everyone had expected her to take after her old man in nearly everything, and when she had they had bumped fists and prayed for the brown-bearded man. But it was funny nonetheless, considering they got along better than most fathers and daughters; practically reading each other's minds when everyone was playing poker. Johnny was still pretty ticked off about that – he’s a good deal deep into the sweets debt he owes you because Price helps you win. But where they really shined was with the shared deadpan attitudes, bottom-of-the-barrel sarcasm, and knowing how to command a room without even trying. Safe to assume that the rest of the team would do anything for you.

“Will not.” You grumble in retaliation, and John’s lips threaten to tilt into a grumpy smile when he hears you put the cake plate back into the counter. 

Letting the tension fall from his shoulders, the brown-haired man takes a glance outside, watching the waves go bright orange as they lap and writhe like great sea serpents. 

“How long have you been up, eh? The sun’s barely risen. Thought Sunday was when you always slept in?” 

There’s a pause in what John believed were fingers digging through a cupboard, and he narrows his eyes in confusion as the silence grows long. He frowns when you speak again, words so quiet he has to place a hand over his other ear to hear properly. Having half a mind to go and tell the pilots to hurry up and go faster so he can just talk to his little girl in person, he refrains, knowing that’s not how this works. But something was wrong – it had been laced in your previous words, as tiny and unnoticeable as it may have been. Only a father would notice it.

“You said you were gonna be home last night. I stayed up.” It takes a moment of halted breathing before John’s eyes widen, blues full of realization.

Oh. 

…Damn it. He lets out the tense breath of air from his lips, shifting in his seat as the gear around his body weighs him down. His gun digs into his chest. 

He hadn't seen you for over a week – leaving you in the care of a close and trusted neighbor, Mrs. Lilly, just as he always had when he needed to leave for work on short notice. But seeing as you were older now, it became apparent that, with your learned independence, staying at the house by yourself was alright as long as you checked in with the neighbor every morning and night. You had been waiting for him to come home. All alone. In the dark. 

Fucken’ hell, John thinks in a deep layer of guilt as wrinkles overtake his forehead, I did tell her I’d be back yesterday. I forgot to call and tell ‘er. Shit! He didn’t want to imagine the stress that had been put on your shoulders. God, what’ve I done?

Not checking in was something he had never missed before – he always told you when he was about to come back. What had gone wrong this time? How had something that important just slipped his mind? Sure the Op had been tedious, but he was trained to handle it. It was no excuse. 

“Sweetheart,” John starts and then pauses the soft and gentle endearment, knowing that an apology didn’t fit into what you were looking for. You didn’t want an ‘I’m sorry’ right now, you wanted your father. Flattening his lips into a line, he continues, wishing he was with you more than ever so he can press a kiss to your forehead. “...I should be back before 1200. How about when I get back I’ll cook you up somethin’ myself, yeah? Or we can go to that Cafe you like down on Newman Street and I’ll get you whatever you want.”

“...When do you have to go back?” You don’t answer his question, and yours makes his heart hurt. 

John clears his throat.

“None of that, now. We’ll talk more when I get back, Darling, alright?” You don’t respond, but he hears you sigh and quietly scoff under your breath. “Alright?” He tries again, head tilting forward and eyebrows rising as if you could see him. Maybe you could.

“Fine. But you better make me pancakes. I don’t care if it’ll be noon.” 

“Pancakes it is.” The Captain looks up in time to see Johnny mouthing words to him, and with a blank face and stiff lip, your father mutters with a grunt, “Johnny says ‘hello.’” 

Your shocked snort makes him feel better, but a layer of guilt still stays. You were awake all night waiting for him, and he never showed up. Did you sleep on the couch? Damnit, he hoped you didn’t…but in his rattling chest knew you had. He found you like that every time he came back from a long stay away. Huddled under blankets, no pillow under your head. Sometimes you steal one of his shirts and hold it like a stuffed bear to your chest, shoving your face into it. 

How could I forget to fucken’ call her?

Your voice takes him out of his growing self-resentment. 

“Tell him to watch his back – I’m getting better at Rainbow Road. Soon enough I’ll be able to beat him in a 1V1!” John can’t help the slow chuckle that bounces in his throat, mind, for the moment, at ease as long as you continue to speak to him.

“I’ll be sure to pass it along. But, eh,” The Brit makes sure he speaks slowly, letting you hear every syllable of his next words. “Promise me you’ll stay at the house until I get there. No goin’ out with friends, yeah? You know how I worry.” John ignores the teasing look from Gaz and peeks out again to see how close they were to the mainland with narrowed lids. “‘Specially when I’m not there.”

Getting back to the Base wasn’t the problem, it was the damn reports coming in that would wring his neck before he could get out the door. But he’d push it off for however long he could; call in favors from Laswell to get him more time with his little girl so he can fix his mistake. As a dad, the only thing that counted was seeing his daughter after a seemingly unending Op that he didn’t want to relive. The hardest part wasn’t the blood or the guts – it was being away from you. Nothing would ever change that, even if he was the one on the ground gritting his teeth at the bite of a bullet.

“Scout’s honor, Old Man.” The happiness in your voice makes him smile to himself. 

“Stop calling me that, Muppet.” John grumbles affectionately, rolling his eyes, “I’ll give you a call when back I’m in town, Sunshine. Make sure the door’s locked–”

“--Locked, the windows too, plus, if someone knocks on the door I need to look through the peephole and if I don’t recognize them don’t open it…Am I missing anything?”

“Mind yourself, now you’re just being cheeky, you are.” John teases, scoffing, but proud that you remembered his rules. It made all of this just a bit more manageable.

“Who do you think I got it from?” You laugh, but it tapers off sullenly, “Just…get home safe, okay, Dad?”

John’s beard pulls back into a soft close-lipped grin, eyes crinkling as his heart warms. He so desperately wanted to ruffle your hair. 

“Of course, Hun. But, eh, take a nap. It’s still early, and I know you’ve got schoolwork to do later. You sound like you’re about to keel over where you stand.” You scoff before agreeing with a muttered grumble, most likely already stumbling to the living room couch, and then the line goes silent and is replaced once more by the whirring of the helicopter blades. 

The man peels back the phone and pockets it, hand unconsciously brushing his breast pouch where a picture of the two of you always sits. It was a baby picture, with your little form held in his grip delicately; looking down at you with soft eyes and an easy smile on his lips that always formed when he was with you. From under a soft blanket, your tiny hand reaches out to try and brush his stubbily cheek. 

It never failed to bring him ease when he realized the photo was there. A reminder that if everything else in his life went horribly wrong, you would still be looking up at him with those eyes of yours. At the very least, he had managed to do one thing right.

“She’ll be fine. She’s a good kid.” Gaz calls at him, and John spares him a glance out of the side of his eye with a raised brow.

“I know she is. I’m the one who raised her.”

—

You remember eating a piece of toast before you made your way over to the couch, throwing your phone to the coffee table haphazardly before tossing yourself onto the cushions. Still in your pajamas, you can’t find it in you to go and grab the homework in your backpack this early. The sun had only just risen, and the bags under your eyes reminded you how late you stayed up last night. 

But your father had never shown up.

Frantic was too light a word to describe the feeling you had when your eyelids had peeled back to the empty living room and the TV still playing. It had been second nature to snatch your phone and call the secure line – half of you had said it was better to call Laswell, just in case, but your adolescent brain had wanted nothing more than to hear your father’s voice.

He would make it better. But you needed to hear his voice. 

Dad, you remembered pleading to yourself as the sound of the dial tone echoed in your ear, please answer the phone. Please. Answer the fucking phone. 

Your heart was pounding; hands shaking. He never just didn’t show up when he said he was going to. Never. Your dad was punctual – always on time no matter what – and he had ingrained the same sentiment in you as well. 

When his deep voice finally bounced in your eardrums you nearly started to cry, missing the first hurried and concern-filled inquiry of where you were. Hearing his voice put you at ease, and after a week of missing your father’s strong presence and his warm hugs, it was hard not to take a shaky inhale when he seemed so close.

You just wanted him home; you wanted him to make you pancakes and help you with your schoolwork. You wanted him to read a book to you on this couch like you were a toddler again while his old record player was on in the background. 

It was childish, getting so worked up about it, but your dad meant the world to you. Not having him here felt wrong. 

Sighing, you rub at your eyes and revel in the darkness before letting out a strained yawn, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and pulling it over your body. It didn’t take long before your eyes were flickering shut, a calm quiet settling over the house as cars passed by outside in the street. You pull the blanket closer and breathe, inhaling pine needles and ash. 

You don’t know how long you were there, twitching in your sleep before the scent woke you up – it makes your nose scrunch, eyelids blinking away fuzz. There was a pillow under your head, the blanket wrapped tight around your neck to keep out the London chill, and a clanking of pans in the kitchen. Scraping spatula over cast iron, you knew, the sizzling of batter. 

The haze of that in-between state, sleep and consciousness fighting in the back of your skull and under your hairline, stays even as you try to force it away. It was like a wave – it constantly pulled you under when you thought you were getting to the surface. Your eyes would blink open and closed; comforted back into sleep by the deep humming, the waver of an old record player. Feet over hardwood and the smell of fresh pancakes. 

Dad’s home. 

A delirious smile slides over your sleep-hot face. That was why you were so content. This was what home sounded and smelled like. 

Dad’s home. You repeat it once more, nuzzling farther into your father's travel pillow he brings to and from Base. Pine needles. Ash. Cigar smoke.

Dad’s home! Your eyes snap open wildly, your body shooting up from the cushions as the blanket falls to the floor. Angling your head to the separated kitchen, you swipe the drool from your mouth with a heavy hand and listen. 

Your dreams had tricked you before, but no. Not this time. 

He was humming along to some old tune under his breath that mirrored the record player behind the couch; the antique turned low so it wouldn’t wake you. Blinking in shock, your mouth morphs into a rich smile instantaneously. 

Throwing yourself off the couch, your feet slam to the floor, rushing and almost tripping over the blanket on the floor as your body slants forward. Giggling, you push on, righting yourself with no second thought other than welcoming your dad home the same as you always did. Zipping around the corner, a shadow is already turning your way, a plate of pancakes ready to be put on the table and devoured. 

“Dad!” You yell loudly and launch yourself at him, hearing his chest let out a grunt and his hands splay around you so he won’t drop breakfast food all over the floor. 

A velvety chuckle is wrung from his body, and his free digits go to rest heavily on your head as you shove yourself into his hold. Gripping his shirt tight between your fingers, you try not to cry when that scent that had been fading from the house comes back tenfold. Your eyes burn, but you only let one tear out when your dad’s finger begins stroking your hair just like he did when you were little.

You had been so worried. 

“There’s my girl,” His voice whispers out, “I’m here, Sunshine. Easy now.” 

“I thought you died,” You can’t help the helpless gasp that rips from you. Your father’s hand freezes; body going rigid around your smaller, desperately grasping frame. The atmosphere of the room flips. Digging into the fabric of his shirt the full flood of tears finally comes forward. “W-when I woke up and you weren’t here I… I thought you were never coming back home, and that I would have to go and live with the neighbors and I’d have to bury you in the cemetery. I don’t-don’t wanna have to put you in the ground.” You’re rambling, but you can’t stop the words. “I don’t want you to leave me alone, Dad. Please don’t leave me alone.” 

At some point, the plate of pancakes had been tossed to the counter without care for if the porcelain cracked from the force, and both of your father's arms hand scooped you into his hold effortlessly. Your breath was hiccuping violently, tears making his shirt wet and sticking to his skin. 

But John didn’t care. 

He wrapped his arms around you and curled his body in, taking you into a hold so warm and tight you couldn’t leave it even if you tried.

What’ve I done? The man feels his lips tense, blinking down at your shaking body with guilt as you sob. Oh, my Little Girl, I’m so sorry. What’ve I done to you? 

Had he never noticed the toll that this job was taking on you? John asked himself this in disgust as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, whispering words into your hair under his shaky breath. He hated when you cried because of him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Love, alright? Look at me.” You don’t move your bruising grip, face still held away from sight as you gasp down frantic breaths. John’s voice gets firmer, “Sweetheart, I need you to look at me, yeah?”

Your tight fingers stutter, and your head barely shifts to the side, one red eye peeking up as he looks down at you with all the love he can muster without looking incredibly broken. He never wanted to see you cry again but knew that would be an impossible feat to accomplish – but he’d do his damndest to try.

“There she is.” John’s hand goes to your cheek, brushing away the saltwater with a calloused thumb as you sniffle. “Just keep those eyes on me, Little One.”

“...M’ not little anymore.” You grumble out, your cheeks heating even as your pulse slows as you focus on your dad's eyes. So soft the edges were nearly liquid; water that held your attention as they lapped across your form. 

“To me, you’ll always be little. Can’t change that I’m afraid.” The man grunts out, tilting his head down at you and letting his eyes travel from concern to comfort. But that doesn’t change the present. 

“I’m so sorry, Love,” Your father mutters, eyes flickering away from yours in guilt so rarely shown to others. He always prided himself on being strong, you knew, bearing the brunt of the weight. Apologies weren’t often verbally said until it truly mattered. “I should have called you. That’s all on me, that is. Bloody stupid to forget about, knowin’ how you wait up for me.” 

Your lips thin to mimic your dad's, brows pulling close. But in your chest, your heart couldn’t be larger. You didn’t hold it against him, but you wished he could be here more often; not put himself in dangerous situations. Knowing as little as you did about your dad's actual job, you still knew it wasn’t entirely safe. 

Maybe the two of you protected each other from the things unseen. 

Your chest aches.

“...You’re funny lookin’ when you have to apologize. Like a kicked bear.” Pulling back your lips, a tiny smile lighting your face, and you look up at your dad with a sniffle in your nose. 

His visage snaps to yours, eyebrows going high on his head in surprise, and hooded blue eyes widening. It takes a moment, but a smirk pushes back his beard when he sees the tears have stopped falling. 

“Yeah?” John asks you, a grumble reverberating in his chest, “Now, y’know, that is just bloody rude, Sunshine. Thought I raised you better…And after I made you pancakes.” 

Laughing, you pull back, stomach rumbling and nose twitching at the prospect of the nearly forgotten food. Slithering past your father, you snatch the plate and fork before rushing into the living room. Jumping on the couch you begin to cut into the carbs, piling pieces into your mouth and smiling at the taste. No one else could make them as your dad could. 

The Brit comes not seconds later, a cup of tea held in his hand before he sits down next to you with a groan, stretching out and laying his socked feet on the coffee table next to your tossed phone from hours earlier. You giggle, suddenly leaning to his large frame and hearing him grunt in retaliation. 

“Tell me a funny story,” You demand, listening to him sip his drink in the mid-morning glow that spreads outside the house and leaks in through the opened curtains. Birds sing outside, heard from the street. 

Your dad hums, his beard tickling your scalp as he leans into you in turn, making you chuckle before he nuzzles against you kissing your head; leading to a larger exclamation of glee before you elbow his gut. 

He laughs and answers with a smile in his voice.

“Hm, did I tell you ‘bout the time Gaz fell out of the Heli?” 

You laugh, eating the rest of the pancake remnants; feeling incredibly happy and warm. There were many memories you loved of your dad and his recounting of stories fit many of them. He always kept out the gory bits – promising himself that he would never lead you down that path no matter what – and always opted for the many downright hilarious situations the rest of the 141 always seemed to get into.

“Yes, but tell me again. It’s funny, especially when you describe his face afterward! Like he–”

“Like he had shit his pants and didn’t want to tell me,” John chuckles, eyes squinted, looking down at you as you snuggle into his side. He wraps an arm over your shoulders, taking your empty plate with one hand and putting it on the side table before pulling you close and making sure his tea won’t spill. He feels your tiny, bird-like, heartbeat on his ribcage and knows that nothing could ever take you away from him. You would always be his little girl.  “Yeah, Love, I remember that one. Now, let me start from the beginning…”

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@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @antigonusyuki, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @lora21, @330bpm-whiplash, @michirulol, @john-pricee, @cl0wncxre, @jade-jax, @anna-banana27, @lothiriel9, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @bespectacledhuman, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @wolfyland07, @shoe1412, @jaimiespn