#and as i was reading this i was internally kicking my legs with excitement and cackling with glee because this is the good stuff

[fictionadventurer]

The more I learn about Civil War politics, the more I'm convinced that Lincoln's most impressive and useful leadership trait was that he never let his pride get in the way of doing his job.

Other people in Lincoln's position would have come to Washington with something to prove. They'd have resented the insults and tried to disprove them. They'd have tried to seize power and credit, rejected help, spent a lot of time trying to reach a certain level of respect.

Lincoln's response to, "You're just a backwoods lawyer with no executive experience who makes too many dumb jokes," was pretty much always, "Yeah. And?" He had no interest in petty personal power plays. He had a country to run. There was a war on. It didn't matter what people thought of him so long as the job got done.

He was aware of his personal shortcomings and was always willing to accept advice and help from people who had more knowledge and experience in certain areas. He presided over a chaotic Cabinet full of abrasive personalities who thought they were better and smarter than him, but he kept working with them because they could get the job done. For example: Stanton was absolutely horrible to him when they were both working as lawyers. Just incredibly mean on a personal level. But when Lincoln needed someone to replace Cameron, he swallowed his pride and appointed Stanton as Secretary of War, where Stanton proceeded to be mean to everyone in the world, but he whipped that department into shape and kept it running efficiently through a very chaotic war. Pretty much no one except Lincoln would have been able to put up with that. He could put up with people who were personally difficult if they could do the job he needed them to do--which he was only able to do because his own ego didn't get in the way.

Lincoln's example is a prime demonstration of how humility isn't underrating yourself--it's being so secure in your own abilities and identity that you don't need to attack anyone or defend yourself to prove your worth. He knew his shortcomings, but he also knew his strengths. He was willing to give other people credit for successes and take blame upon himself for failures if it kept things running smoothly. He was secure enough in his own power that he could deal generously--but firmly--with people who tried to undermine him. In a city full of huge egos, in a profession that rewards puffed-up pride, that levelheaded humility is an extremely rare trait--which is what made it so impressive and effective.

[ram-bles]

Headcanons with Daisuke and Shy Reader? Thanks if you do :)

daisuke x shy!reader headcanons

[ requests/inbox: open ]

oh boy changing the mood with this one

fluff, gender neutral reader

⚠️ dude/bro used but in a gender neutral way lol

Sorry this took so long! I had to rewrite more than half of this since I forgot to save as draft the last time 😭

🌺 The first you've seen him was while processing your papers for the internship. He was busy double checking his own papers on his way out so he didn't notice you. The first time he sees you, was during the Tulpar boarding.

🌺 To no surprise, he approaches and greets you first, rambling on about how totally excited he was to work with you and the whole crew. You shook his hand with an awkward smile as you exchanged introductions.

Once the captain had given you both an overview of what you guys might do while on board, he immediately turns to you, jutting his hand out for a handshake. "Heya! I'm Daisuke!" You swore you were blinded by how bright this man smiled at you. "Dude, I'm like so so glad you're here. Everyone else here besides Cap' seems so— yeesh. Gloomy." You realized you've almost left him hanging and you almost dropped your bag trying to shake his hand. He laughs and you felt your face warm up in embarrassment. He switches topic immediately. "What's your name? What uni you from? - oh! What college are you in?"

🌺 You wouldn't notice it until later on that you'd often trail behind Daisuke, especially when you don't know what you're doing or how to help (he doesn't know how as well but he pretends he does).

🌺 Assuming that the rooms are very limited and can house two members per room (bunk bed icon by Curly's quarters door), you two got paired up since Swansea didn't want to be in the same room as Daisuke did.

🌺 A coin had to be flipped for the top bunk since Daisuke kept on insisting that you take it but you were also insisting that he takes it.

🌺 Even before the crash, he's either on his gameboy, magazines, or his iconic pink dumbbells when you guys have the free time.

🌺 Once comfortable enough, you two were inseparable. Always together by the hip outside intern work. The top bunk was useless since you'd both end up chilling at the same place, either sprawled against each other or claiming territories at each end of the bed doing whatever hobbies you two were into.

"Bro, you're kicking my faaaace. I can't see what I'm reading." You whined and tried pushing his leg away since you were scanning through one of the magazines he brought and he gives you a mischievous stare. "Daisuke, no." "Daisuke, yes." He pauses his game and throws it to the side, yanking your leg as you squealed and flailed around. You lose. But you both end up laughing as he locked you to his side, giving you a noogie, not long until Swansea busts in to scold you two for being too rowdy.

[might make a one-shot of this if you guys are interested?]

🌺 Hey, even if you guys are that close already and you don't chat as much, he'll be the one doing it for the both of you. I don't make the rules.

🌺 If you have inquiries with the other members, he accompanies you and asks the questions for you.

🌺 Daisuke pretty much drags you with him for whatever shenanigans he's up to. Don't worry, he takes the blame if you guys get caught and makes sure they think you're uninvolved.

[stoopakoopa]

Day 8 - Reunion

Drew out a little snippet from my partner's fic for @mesdelostrescaballeros2024!!

Part of a larger continuity being uploaded on ao3! Read it below ⬇️

Donald pulled up outside the apartment where Panchito was staying and took a deep, fortifying breath. Of course he was excited to see his friend again! Of course he was excited for The Three Caballeros to be once more reunited, even if only for a day. There was just that one catch—he felt bad even calling it a catch, like it was somehow a bad thing that he and Zé had finally professed their love for one another—but it would always be awkward telling Panchito. Surely, the duck thought with an internal groan, things would unavoidably change within the trio.

To make it all worse, José had been away on flight shifts when Panchito arrived in town, and Donald had agreed to only break the news when his new boyfriend had returned. He was a terrible liar about this kind of thing: his tongue got all tied up and his beak chattered when he spoke. How in the hell was he supposed to—?

The Donald Duck Pity Party was cut short as sharp, energetic chatter caught his ear from the street: Panchito was being seen off and heading straight for the car. Donald flung himself toward the back seat, toward the gift José had planned to hand over today, and hastily threw a spare blanket over it. The thick, scratchy wool did a decent job of concealing the obvious shape of a brand new guitar, at least if you didn't pay it mind. They'd give it to him when they were all together. That's how they were supposed to do things. Together.

Panchito appeared, waving goodbye to someone before bounding out of the apartment complex. His face lit up when he saw Donald, and before Donald could even get a word out, Panchito had leapt into the front seat, pulling him into a bear hug. His wide sombrero wobbled dangerously, but he didn't seem to care.

"¡Ay caramba, amigo! What took you so long to get here?" Panchito exclaimed, yanking Donald into his arms despite protest from his seatbelt, all to kiss Donald's cheek with his usual enthusiasm.

"'Ey, Pancho! How you doin' amigo?" The duck choked out, finding it a little easier to act natural amid the strangulation.

Panchito released Donald to pinch his cheek playfully. "Better with you here! I've been working on that new song I told you about last night! What about you? What have you been up to all day?"

"I'm doin' swell! And nothing much! Been taking 'er easy today." He lied, and not well—he was already talking too much. "Excited, though! Not every day I get to hang out with my two best pals!" Donald pulled away from Panchito's hold in order to return his attention to driving, feeling too awkward to linger in the warm hold, however much he usually would.

The charro clicked the seatbelt into place and leaned back in his seat, apparently unfazed by the duck's haste. "Ay güey, I'm just hyped that we are finally getting together again for a change. So, what are we doing this time? Are we gonna hit up the club so hard we get kicked out again? Or maybe reopen the Magical Mythical Monster Petting Zoo from Scrooge's secret vault? Or how about we raid the Anvilania embassy and get the ambassador drunk again? You know she still calls me." 

Donald nodded, absolutely not absorbing anything the rooster was clucking about in favor of focusing on the road. He was happy, of course; his friend's exuberance was infectious to say the least. It had indeed been too long since they got to hang out like this as a group… but a part of him still felt tense. He chanced another glance at the vaquero—oblivious, humming merrily, a long leg resting against the door as he propped up his foot on his knee and took up what little space his seat offered. He wished he could feel so carefree.

When they arrived at the little airport, Panchito's excitement was hard to miss. Before the car could even finish pulling up to the 15-minute zone, he'd unbuckled and bolted out of the car window, running ahead towards the tarmac and calling out for Zé at the top of his lungs.

"Yeah, don't wait up or nothing!" Donald called after him with a roll of his eyes. Crazy bird, he hadn't even put the car into park yet!  The lighthearted atmosphere Panchito had cultivated was at war with the impulse to complain bubbling inside him because he wanted see Zé first, to get a chance to hold his boyfriend first before they had to act respectably platonic in front of their none the wiser companion. It wasn't jealousy, not exactly, just…

One hug, one second to let the weight of the week melt off was all he wanted. But that wasn't happening. Not yet. Instead, he'd have to wait and keep playing the part.

"Great," he muttered, jerking on the car's parking brake. "Just act natural. Simple."

The airport, while always abuzz with people from all walks of life and from every corner of the globe, was relatively less hectic on a weekday like this, and José was all the more grateful for it. Deplaning the small jet from Panama was fairly routine and done quickly, leaving Zé with a little free time before he met up with his friends. He brought with him his single suitcase, loaded with more clothes than his usual amount, plus some souvenirs from Brazil and the several other countries he had stopped in during the work week. There were things for the kids back at the manor, plus a homemade gaúcho style poncho pala made by his vovó for Della (whom the old bird had assumed was still freezing from her time on the Moon).  Strapped to the outside of the suitcase (because it could not fit) and wrapped in cloth was José's gift to Donald, a new hammock for his houseboat. He hoped he would like it.

Walking to the exit, Zé attempted to steal himself for the reunion to come. Not so much for seeing Donald, though his blood ran quick with excitement for him to be sure. But Panchito, whom he had not seen since they met for that ill-fated holiday to Bahia that never came to fruition. They had kept in constant contact even after their break up, though it caused pain on both sides. They had been determined to preserve their eternal friendship even in the face of romantic disappointment. And though it took some years for Zé to be able to look the rooster in the face without the unbearable ache in his chest urging him to take it all back and try again, he never wanted to lose sight of what drew him and the other two Caballeros together in the first place. They were his family, no matter what happened.

Even when I act like a stupid teenager and run crying to my ex-boyfriend about my hopeless crush, which turned out to be not so hopeless after all because we're together now and— Merda!

Zé closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. It was very good that he had this spare moment to compose himself as he entered the airport proper.

The distant sound of a familiar crow cut through the din of the crowd, stopping Zé in his tracks. That voice—there was no mistaking it. And like the call to sunrise, it made his heart want to leap into the sky. Spotting a tall flash of red, and a hat that he insisted was too big for his head, standing tall amongst the crowd, Zé dropped his suitcase and his umbrella and ran forward like his tail was on fire. Before he even had time to think about it, he was launching himself into Panchito's arms. The rooster caught him instantly, just like old times.

"¡¡AAAAAAJAJAJAJAJA!!" Panchito's triumphant grito echoed across the terminal. His grip was tight, almost desperate, and his wide grin spoke volumes. Zé could feel the emotion radiating from him—Panchito had missed him more than words could ever say, that much was clear. His whole body seemed to hum with excitement. 

"José!! Mi cielo!" Panchito crowed, his voice overflowing with affection as he slowly, reluctantly, released the green parrot. 

Zé smiled warmly, returning the sentiment. "It is so good to see you, docinho!" His tone was as light and affectionate as ever. "It has been too long!"

"No manches, pendejo, it's only been a few months!" Panchito guffawed, his eyes sparkling with unfiltered happiness. His grin stretched wide as he shook his head in disbelief, the warmth in his expression unmistakable. The man was an open book, his emotions always worn on his sleeve.

The malandro chuckled softly, adjusting his hat. "Well, yes, but it has been twice as long since the three of us have been—" He stopped, scanning the area. "Espere, onde está o Donald?" 

Panchito's expression shifted briefly—a flicker of realization, maybe impatience. He glanced back toward the car, where Zé knew Donald must still be catching up. The vaquero's elation had clearly driven him to rush ahead, leaving their other friend behind. Zé could almost feel the mixture of emotions brewing under Panchito's playful exterior, a familiar tug of longing buried in the joy of reunion.

But Zé knew better than to bring that up. He simply smiled again, his voice calm, teasing. "Always in a rush, eh  mano?" 

"Life is too short to sit still," the rooster replied assuredly, and his hand which still rested on his waist in a half hug pulled him in for just an instant, a punctuation to the point. 

"Hey, ya found 'im! Over here, guys!!!!" a distinctive voice cut through the busy hum of the arrival hall and Zé immediately turned towards the sound, his heart immediately catapulting into the stratosphere.

"DONAL'!" he and Panchito shouted in unison, their voices echoing across the platform. The moment the malandro caught sight of Donald looking flustered and determined as ever as he weaved through the crowd, all the excitement, the nerves, the longing came rushing back to him. He broke from Panchito's hold to sprint to him with ever increasing urgency, his heart pounding not from exertion but from sheer jubilation.

Quickly he closed the distance between them, throwing his arms around the sailor and pulling him into a tight embrace. He fit into his arms perfectly, and for a moment he didn't want to let go. Donald absorbed the impact with ease and let Zé down safely, the rest of the world seeming to melt away in an instant. Zé quickly buried his face into Donald's shoulder, feeling the comforting weight of his lover's arms around him. There was relief, adoration, and an overwhelming sense of peace. Even for just a fleeting moment, everything felt right—like he was where he belonged.

"Meu querido..." Zé whispered softly, just for Donald, though he didn't linger on the words. He knew this interlude was fleeting.

Sure enough, as if sensing their private moment was up, Donald's voice broke through their quiet intimacy. "Panchito...?" Donald called, one arm still wrapped around Zé as he extended the other towards their rambunctious rooster to include him.

Zé was too distracted with cuddling up to his sailor's side to register the gleam in Panchito's eye, at first. As it was, it was only the loud, triumphant yell that signaled their impending doom, and the parrot felt he had little choice but to make sure he didn't endure it alone, his arm holding his duck in place.

"No, wait—!" Donald started, but it was too late.

Panchito came down hard from where he had launched himself into the air like a luchador delivering his finishing move. Elbow extended, he crashed into the two of them with the energy of a firecracker bursting on impact. Donald let out a choked WAK! of surprise, his arms flailing as he was knocked clean off balance. Zé, caught in the middle of it all, simply accepted his fate with a laugh, not even trying to brace for the collision.

They tumbled down in a heap of feathers, beaks, and limbs, Zé wedged between his two best friends, both of them piled on top of Donald, who lay sprawled at the bottom. He could feel Donald wheezing beneath him, dazed from the sudden assault, while Panchito—of course—was perched victoriously at the top of the pile, leaning on one elbow like he owned the world.

"Órale! ¿Que te pasa? You were supposed to catch me!" Panchito chortled, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he flashed a wide, playful grin down at the both of them. "I could have gotten hurt!" 

"God forbid…" Donald rasped weakly.

Zé couldn't help but chuckle, even as he lay squashed in the middle. Completely unconcerned by the chaos, he wiggled into a more comfortable position between them, his head resting against Donald's back. He could feel the frantic beat of his partner's heart beneath his cheek, could hear the shallow breaths as Donald tried to recover. There was no tension, no frustration. Just pure, unbridled affection. Even in moments like this—especially in moments like this—Zé felt nothing but love for the both of them.

This was how it had always been with the three of them. Chaos and laughter, roughhousing and tenderness, all tangled together in one messy, beautiful friendship.

"Well, caras," Zé sighed contentedly, "it is good to be back where I belong."

"Where, with all of ya on top of me?" the sailor beneath him groaned, barely able to get out a full breath with all the pressure bearing down on him.

Don't tempt me, the malandro thought before immediately shelving it for later.

[sluttycelestialgoddess]

If you give Sylus a Hunter...

Synopsis. Sylus has a lot of fun making you beg.

Pairings. Sylus x reader(MC)

Content. MDNI. edging, fem reader, praise, crying, mentions use of evol, pet names (kitten, sweetie, good girl, etc), AFTERCARE.

Word Count. 2.2k (damn... pretty good for my first story)

Author's Note. Thanks for reading my first story! Let me know what you think, and feel free to leave me requests! I wrote this while listening to 'Be Quiet and Drive' by Deftones. (also, did you like the title... I thought of 'when you give a mouse a cookie' and giggled to myself) xo, Z/Chaos

MDNI BEYOND THIS POINT.

Sylus had you right where he wanted you. His bed. Again. He looked down at you with his usual arrogant smirk as you whimpered and squirmed. His crimson eyes seemed to be lit with that internal glow they had sometimes when he was excited or wanted something. “Now, now, kitten. Spread those pretty thighs for me. You don’t want me to use my evol again, do you?” he purred sardonically, his left eye beginning to actually glow.

You were almost at your wits end. It had been an hour since he grabbed you out of the hallway of his hilariously (or should you say outrageously?) huge home you were attempting to get to know your way around and all but threw you onto his bed, using his evol to hold your hands above your head as he stripped you bare. He was insatiable. You’d been staying with him for four days at this point and already you’ve had more sex than you had in the last 2 years combined. Which, in the grand scheme of things, you guessed wasn’t much considering you dedicated all your time to becoming a Hunter for Linkon City after the rise of wanderer attacks, resulting in a gnarly dry spell… but his hunger for you was bordering on absurd. Even so, you had to ask yourself… Does he ever get tired?

In this hour that he’d had you at his mercy, he’d managed to edge you to the pinnacle of ecstasy no less than five times, never letting you reach that sweet release. You were a shaking, sobbing, whimpering mess, and he loved it. You were half in the mind to use one of the safe words he declared you use on the first night if you ever found yourself not being able to handle something. But your pride was like a gag, not letting your tongue form the word. “Feather”. How fitting, the smug bastard. 

“‘Feather’ will be to stop. You say that and everything stops. We do not continue. There will be no “break and then get back to it”. Saying that means you’re done for the night. So just be sure that’s the one you want to use,” he had told you. At the time you had giggled, thinking it was endearing, thinking back on it now, you wanted to kick him in the face. No way in hell were you uttering the word “feather” while a trembling, whimpering mess. If only you could actually move your legs to kick him, but nope. Useless appendages. 

You realized Sylus was still waiting for you to comply with his request. Finally having an ounce of control over your legs after they had become jelly sometime in the last 20 minutes, you shakily opened your legs to him, a whimper leaving your lips as the cool air in the room met your soaked lips. I could kick him now… but then he’d keep me like this all night. Fucker.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well,” he praised, not seeing your thoughts, steadily growing fond of the idea of smashing your foot to his face. You internally smiled at your mental picture, but really you were enjoying yourself all things considered. He leaned over to rub soothing circles over your thigh before running a long finger through your sensitive folds. “You remember your safe words, correct?” he asked with a grin and you nodded, glaring daggers. He chuckled and hummed at how wet you’d gotten, and he hadn’t even put his mouth on you. Looking up to watch your reaction, he slipped his finger in, curling slightly to caress over the spot that always made you gasp. You did, and he smiled at the pretty sound, feeling pride at how well he knew your body. However, he was beginning to think he was being just a tad cruel as he watched your eyebrows knit together and the pitiful whimpers run into each other as they exited your lush lips. 

“Oh baby, I know, I know… I’ll let you come soon. Such a good girl… you look fucking delicious right now,” he cooed as he eased a second finger inside you and coated his thumb in your wetness before rubbing circles over your throbbing clit. Goosebumps covered your skin and you whined, your hips bucking up of their own accord. “Mmm, such a needy kitten. Sweetie, I think you could take a couple more, hm?”

You whimpered out unintelligible curses at the remark and he chuckled. “Sylus… I really don’t know if I can,” you say, finally having found your voice in the string of muttered curses and whines. You clenched your eyes closed as he pressed harder on your clit and curled his fingers deeper. That blossoming warmth entered your tummy again. You fluttered around him and he groaned, wanting so badly to see you come apart, but needing it to be while he was inside you so you could milk him for everything he had. 

“Relax, you can handle it,” he chided with a tsk. “I’ve seen you take more than this, sweet girl. You’re stronger than you think. Tell me how badly you want to cum,” he groaned as you clenched harder around him. You were half scared he would pull back and deny you once again, but also half scared he wouldn’t and it would be over. He rubbed at your thighs, admiring how mouthwatering they were coated in your arousal. “Beg for it. Beg for me to let you cum.”

You felt the tears begin to sting the back of your eyes and you steeled yourself long enough to whisper through your moans, “Please, Sylus. Please let me cum, baby. I’ll do anything, just please…”

“Anything, hm?” he questioned, obvious interest in his tone as he leaned down and sucked lightly on your clit, replacing his thumb. You gasped as he rolled his tongue over the sensitive nub. Your legs shook fiercely and you cried out. Pulling back, fingers and all, he stood over you. The damn tease… His eyes never left yours as he deftly undid the buttons on his shirt, then his pants, rolling them both off and letting them pile on the floor. He leaned down and extended himself over you until your lips met in a passionate kiss. “If you’ll do anything, how about you stay true to your word by cumming around my cock?” he teased as he grabbed it and rubbed it through your slickness. 

“Yes, please,” you sighed against his lips, seeing this as him conceding as long as you came wrapped around him. His lips curved into a dangerous grin at your response, pushing inside with agonizing slowness. He groaned.

“Fuck, you’re so tight and wet, I don’t even need to work it in,” he moaned appreciatively as he drove into you with one powerful thrust, no longer able to torture you with slow pumps. Once he was fully seated, he kissed you tenderly as began to move, rubbing his pelvic bone over your clit with every thrust. You whimpered, feeling the tears fall from your clenched eyes as the warmth began to spread again.

Sylus smiled down at your beautiful face, eyes clenched tight with tears trailing down your cheeks. Perfect… She is so perfect. “So beautiful, baby. You’re trembling. You’re so close, aren’t you, pretty girl?” he rubbed your hair with one hand to soothe you and wiped at your tears with the other. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence, so you only answered him through an eager nod and whimpers. “Hm, I know, baby. Cum for me. Cum on my cock.” Sylus sped up, needing to see you lose yourself in pleasure. Lose yourself while clenched so tightly around him.

This was his favorite part, of course. After repeatedly bringing you to that edge, but pulling back before you could fall, you would always be so wound up that when the orgasm finally came, it would make you delirious with pleasure. He loved watching you as you finally crashed over the edge he kept you from and your face would contort in utter rapture, crying out his name and clenching so tight around him he’d have no choice but to follow you. He shook his head to focus on the present and ground against you to help you to reach what you’ve been begging him for. 

You whimpered as he gave his permission. You let go, no longer holding yourself back. The warmth in your tummy became an inferno as his thrusts became harder, rubbing your clit with his pelvis and the head of his cock jutting against that sweet spot inside you. You were so close. Just a little more pressure… “Please…” you begged on a needy sob. Sylus kissed you harder as he felt his own release building. He wrapped his arms around you to pull you up slightly in his arms, holding you so that you hovered over the bed as he pounded into you, holding you both up with his free hand on the mattress. The new angle had him going impossibly deeper, rubbing your clit against him with an intensity that finally pushed you over the boundary he had carefully pulled you from so many times. Your nails raked over his shoulders as you cried out. “Sylus! Yes!”

“That’s my good girl. Cum all over my cock. Fuck, you feel so good, baby… so tight,” he praised with a loud groan, rutting up into you as his own orgasm crashed over him. His grunts filled your ears, and it was his previous words coupled with them and his unrelenting ministrations that made your toes curl. Your body convulsed as wave after wave of pure bliss spiraled over your entire body. Your back arched into Sylus as his cum filled you, his thrusts not wavering as his body shook, ensuring he extended your pleasure as long as possible. 

Eventually, your cries subsided into soft, shuddering breaths as the tremors in your body slowly dissipated. Sylus sat back on his heels, holding you tightly the entire time you came down from your high, rubbing his hands down your back as you stayed wrapped around him. When your shaking stopped, he stood up from the bed. You stayed clutched to him as he walked to the washroom and started a bath. Sylus being Sylus, he added in his favorite epsom salts and relaxing bubble bath as the water filled up steadily. 

“My love, are you okay? I’ll hold you all night if you need, but I want to clean you up and take care of you. You did so well, but I know that had to be draining. Let me wash you then I’ll hold you so you can rest,” he whispered, rubbing his hands down your exposed ribs from where your arms were clasped like a restraint around his neck. He could feel your grip wavering and knew you were going to be out like a light as soon as your head laid down on his chest. You relented, loosening your grip in your legs around his waist as he wrapped his arm around your back and the other under your knees to lower you into the water. You sighed as you relaxed into it. 

“Just relax, I’ll take care of everything,” he said and kissed the top of your head. Methodically, he washed your body, almost like he was worshiping. He took care to be gentle around the sensitive junction of your thighs, kissing your shoulder when he lightly passed over it. He took a cup and filled it with water to run over your hair and began to wash it with his shampoo. She’s going to smell like me… he smiled to himself as he massaged your scalp. After washing it out, he combed through your hair with his fingers coated in conditioner. 

Sylus made sure to take extra good care of you after long sessions like the one today, diligently washing you, feeding you, massaging sore areas, or simply holding you so you know how much he loves you. After fully washing you and drying you off, he carried you back to the bed and laid you down among the mass of pillows and plushies you had “adopted” (as you put it). So beautiful... He smiled down at you, showing you all the love and tenderness he held in his heart for you. You smiled back sleepily and reached out for him to join you. He climbed in and gently pulled your head to his chest, rubbing his hand over your thigh in invitation for you to put it over his to rest. 

You snuggled into him as he kissed your head. “Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered as you felt yourself beginning to drift off. Your speech slurred as sleep dragged you under. Sylus tightened his arms around you, his muscled chest hugging your cheek. 

“I will always take care of you, my love. You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine. I love you, sweetie. Rest.”

[itsnesss]

Hello, I have a request if it's ok with you 🙌🏻 I would like you to write a sensei wolf x reader fic, I don't have details but the moment where he fights Johnny and he has to be on his knees to wait to continue the fight, it doesn't leave my mind 👁️👄👁️ ​​so, could you write something with that? (smut obviously) And thank youuuu ❤️

𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | sensei wolf × fem!reader

summary | during an intense training session, the tension between you and wolf reaches its peak. challenging him with an unexpected move, you manage to bring him to his knees, showcasing your power and control, while he, surprised, begins to see in you a strength he didn’t anticipate

warnings | smut, explicit content, power dynamics, sub!wolf, dom!reader, intense physicality, fingering, oral (reader!receives)

word count | 1.1 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You were in the dojo, as always, training hard, but this time something was different. The tension in the air was palpable. The training had ended, and you could still feel their eyes on you, watching every movement, every breath.

"You're getting better," said Wolf, his voice deep and authoritative, though there was something else in it this time. Something that made you feel as if you were under his control.

You turned around to pick up your backpack, but immediately felt his hand on your shoulder, stopping you. His touch was firm, almost like a silent command. "Why are you looking at me like that?" you asked, with a defiant smile on your face, without turning to confront him.

"Because you intrigue me," he replied, and your heart skipped a beat.

You turned slowly to face him, and the proximity between you became clearer. You could feel his heat, his strength, his power. Your heart was pounding, but you remained calm, challenging him with your eyes.

"Would you dare to put into practice what I've taught you?" he asked, as if it were a joke, but you knew it wasn't.

A moment of silence, and then you approached him, step by step. You could see the uncertainty in his gaze, the internal struggle. Finally, you stopped in front of him, almost brushing his chest with yours.

"Yes, I would dare," you said with a playful smile, and before he could react, you pushed him back with all your strength. I didn't expect you, I wasn't prepared for that move. He almost lost his balance, but you stood firm. The power was on your side, and you knew it.

A glimmer of surprise crossed his eyes, followed by something else. Something that overflowed with authority and desire.

At that moment, without thinking any further, you advanced quickly, making him fall to his knees before you. The sound of his knees hitting the ground echoed in the dojo, but it was not a sound of defeat, but of acceptance.

You looked at him with a triumphant smile, enjoying the feeling of having him at your feet. But, in his gaze, there was a spark of respect, of admiration.

"Stay there," you took his chin while ordering him to remain kneeling before you. You moved closer, brushing your fingers against his lips. "Don't move."

And with that, you started to undress. First it was your belt, which you tossed aside. Then it was your pants, which slid down your legs until your feet kicked them off.

Wolf had seen your body before. Many times. But it wasn't her gaze that mattered. It was the power and authority in your gaze.

Wolf seemed to not care, but you knew he was excited. You could see it in his eyes. In the way he breathed.

"Strip," you ordered, without taking your eyes off him, but Wolf seemed to hesitate. "Strip now," you repeated, a little louder.

And he took off his shirt, then his pants. His body was strong, muscular. He didn't need to tell you he was ready.

"That's it," you said, with a smile. "Now, let's see if you can please me."

And you pulled down your panties, showing it to him. You could feel the cold air against your skin. You couldn't wait any longer. You felt it, you needed it, you desired it.

You took his hand and brought it to your panties. "Touch me," you whispered. And he did, without a moment's hesitation. His touch was firm, strong, as if you were his.

Involuntarily, your hips moved back and forth, seeking more. And Wolf began to slide his fingers in slowly. You could feel his pulse throbbing in your panties.

"You're so wet," he said, with a little smile.

"Why do you think I came?" you asked mischievously. Wolf smiled, as if everything that was happening was amusing to him. As if it didn't matter.

But you knew it did matter.

The touch of his fingers inside you was exquisite. You couldn't help but move your hips to seek more. But just when you were about to reach climax, Wolf stopped abruptly.

"No," you scolded him. "Don't stop, don't stop."

Wolf seemed amused. "No, no," you said, and you started moving your hips back and forth. "I want more."

And he gave you more, he started pushing his fingers into you harder. You could feel them moving inside you, you can feel his fingers squeezing your inner walls, you can feel yourself about to reach climax.

And you reached the climax. With a loud scream, your body trembled in an intense orgasm that shook your entire body. Wolf seemed to enjoy it, smiling as if he had won the jackpot.

When you regained your composure, you approached him. You took him by the neck and looked him in the eyes. "That was very good," you whispered, smiling, and I began to kiss your lips.

With that, Wolf seemed to lose all control. He lifted one of your legs, placing it on his shoulder, without moving from where he was kneeling, on his knees before you.

Then, he took your other thigh and placed it over his other shoulder. Now, you were completely exposed to him, at his disposal. Your body trembled with excitement.

Wolf took a second, looking at you with a lustful expression on his face. Then, he buried his head between your thighs, diving into your pussy with his tongue.

You moaned loudly when he did it. His touch on your skin was electric, like a lightning bolt coursing through your muscles. He moved with fury, kissing your pussy and clitoris. His lips moved slowly over you, as if savoring something delicious.

You could feel the drops of sweat sliding down your body. Your muscles were tense. Every part of you was asking for more.

And Wolf gave you more. Kissing your clitoris hard, increasing the pressure, increasing the speed. And just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, you reached orgasm. With a scream that echoed throughout the dojo, you collapsed into his arms.

Wolf didn't stop, he kept kissing you, savoring your drops of pleasure. He continued with his mouth between your thighs until you were sure he had collected every drop of your sex. Then he pulled away from you, with a satisfied smile, as if he had done something important.

And so it was. He had done it. He had given you what you wanted and had taken what he wanted too.

When you recovered, you got down from his shoulders. You looked at him with a mischievous smile and said, "Thank you." And that was it. You don't need more. Wolf got up from his knees, leaping with a strange glint in his eyes. You knew that the control you had over him had not gone unnoticed.

That you had liked having him at your feet, on his knees before you.

[sorrowfulrosebud]

Reasons why Katsuki Bakugou is your puppy; a list.

🜸 He gets annoyed/clingy if you try to leave the house. Like, if you are in need of something from the store and try to leave while he’s napping, his eyes are snapping open and he’s sleepily grumbling and questioning where you’re going without him. More often than not, hero work leaves him absolutely exhausted so you have to gently explain that you’re only going for a pint of milk, so it’s not worth getting up. He starts pouting then, grunting out a “fine then” and angrily nestling himself back under the blanket.

🜸 So more often than not you have to buy him a special treat from the store to make up for being mean and leaving him home 😠 you have to snuggle up to him on the couch, try and pry his arms that are crossed on his chest. Kiss his pouty lips as he flushes a soft pink and tease him with the extra spicy hot sauce he can never seem to find. Only give it to him when he kisses you back, and promise to let him come with you next time.

🜸 If you go on a trip with other members of the Bakusquad etc. and he doesn’t come, he anxiously awaits your arrival home. Cleans the house top to bottom, gets you a bouquet of your favourite flowers and plants, wears the compression shirt he knows you love and gets a little spread of your favourite foods to welcome you back. He just sits on the couch, leg bouncing as he glances back and forth between the book he’s reading and the clock. He’s all smiles when you come back, dropping your bags and picking you up to hug you.

🜸 NEEDS to have his face in your boobs. If you’re cuddling, he needs to have his face buried into your chest, it’s a self-regulating thing for him. He can also listen to your steady heartbeat, the rhythm lulling him to sleep. It’s his favourite way to cuddle you. He also adores when you play with his hair, and pepper loving kisses to his sleepy face.

🜸 He makes the cutest little noises in his sleep. If he’s having a good dream, you hear sleepy sighs and the sound of him nestling deeper into his cushion. If he’s having a bad dream, he’s whimpering and flexing his muscles. He’s incredibly expressive in his sleep, much more so than when he’s awake.

🜸 Katsuki keeps one of your stuffed animals near his bed if you’re ever apart. In the likely event you had an argument and you stormed off to Mina’s house, he lays in bed whilst he reviews and reflects what happened. If it was his fault due to his short temper or even just miscommunication, he grabs hold of the stupid thing, angrily grumbling that “they should be in this spot, not you.” If he REALLY fucked up, he sniffles and rubs his nose into the animal, deeply breathing in your calming smell. Katsuki kisses the bear, wishing it was your soft skin instead of the toy. He wishes you a good night, offering silent apologies as he tearfully clings to the toy.

🜸 Easily excitable. If you even mention the fact that you received a promotion or went up in the hero ranks, he’s immediately like “fuck yeah!! My baby is the best!!! Just like me!!!!” If you mention the fact that you love him, he gets all blushy and more inclined to hold your hand (after calling you a cringy dumbass and wiping his popping palms).

🜸 Katsuki absolutely melts at your praise. You could be going about your day, look at Katsuki and be like “aww your muscles are so big Katsu!” Or “wow Suki, this food is delicious” and his chest is all puffed up but internally kicking his feet and giggling bc you like him??? How??? You like his food???

I need him carnally.

[rose-colored-glasses671]

Let The Light In

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem reader

warnings: mentions of abuse and human trafficking

summary: your husband is finally back home from a mission, but he's brought home a little girl, and he's struggling with what he saw.

read pt.2

a/n: This is my first attempt at a fanfic but im excited about this. The idea came from one of my many pre-sleep scenarios that i had a strong desire to put on paper. Also, I wrote simon to not be emotionally closed off because: a) thats how i imagine he would be and b) i love an emotionally mature man. okay thats it. enjoy!

You had been preparing yourself a glass of ice water before bed when you heard the beeping of the electronic keypad from your front door. There was only one person besides you who could unlock the high-tech security system that secured your house: Simon. A flood of excitement rushed through you as you put your glass down and ran to the front door, giddy with happiness at your husband’s arrival. You knew he was due back home soon, but as it usually went with military deployments, the dates were always tentative.

But, to your surprise, when the door opened, you didn’t just see your hulking, 6’4 husband at the door, but also a little girl, no older than maybe seven years. Your eyes bounced between the two as you saw Simon guide the girl through the door; the little girl who looked terrified out of her mind as her eyes darted around the dark entryway. As she began to cower away from the darkness, Simon turned on the light that illuminated the foyer, finally bringing you into his view.

His eyes jumped to you in an instant, an intense melancholy and fatigue written all over his face. That’s also when you heard a faint sniffle from the little girl, and when you looked down, your heart broke at the sight of her. Bruises littered her arms and legs, all in different stages of healing, along with countless cuts, scars, and what looked like cigarette burn marks. She had on tattered clothes and shoes, but what really sent you over the edge was the black eye that marred her right eye.

Both your motherly instincts and your doctor training kicked into overdrive. Being five-months pregnant was putting you into protective mama bear mode, and your ER doctor training was telling you to get this girl to a hospital to see if she had any broken bones or internal bleeding. Ultimately, you took a deep breath and decided the girl just needs to feel safe right now.

“Hi there,” you chirped, slowly approaching the little girl, cautious of the fact that she was extremely scared and was thus probably sensitive to sudden gestures. The girl brought her gaze up off the floor to look at you, distrust and fear still evident in her eyes. You then introduced yourself to her, but when you asked for her name, she remained quiet.

“She hasn’t spoken since we rescued her,” Simon spoke up for the first time. “It’s gonna take the boys a while to find her family without her name, so I thought…” That she’d be safe with us tonight.

You nodded before asking, “Did the medic check her out?”

“Just barely, once we got onto the plane,” Simon replied. “I came here as soon as we landed back at base.”

“Okay,” you said, finally turning your attention back to the girl. You got down to her eye-level so as not to make her feel anymore threatened. “How ‘bout I make you a nice PB&J, and then we can get you cleaned up and into a fresh pair of pajamas?” you asked, keeping your tone light and how you usually did with your younger patients.

The girl continued looking at you, but remained silent. After a moment, you asked, “What if I brought the food to you here?”

The tense line of the girl’s shoulders relaxed a little, and some of the tightness in her face dissipated. You took that as a confirmation and smiled softly, nodding your head again.

“Stay with her,” you said to Simon, before rushing into the kitchen and hastily putting together the sandwich. With a plate of food and a glass of water in your hands, you went back to the foyer, both Simon and the girl standing in the exact same place as where you’d left them. You handed the girl her food and placed the water next to her, letting her get comfortable and do things at her own pace.

You thought in the meantime you could speak with Simon, but when you turned your head, he wasn’t in the foyer anymore. Not wanting to leave the girl alone, you stayed with her as she ate, continuing to talk to her in the hopes of making her feel safer and more comfortable.

The girl ate slowly, taking big gulps of water in between bites, and your heart continued to break at her timidness, not daring to think of the kind of atrocities she’d probably had to face in her short life.

After a while, with food in her belly and her thirst quenched, the girl finally gave you a small smile, letting you take her upstairs. You prepared a warm bath for her in the guest bathroom, putting in salts and adding in bubbles so that she could soak her bruises and maybe get some relief for the night.

You had some of your niece’s clothes in the dresser, and although she was a bit older than this little girl, the oversized pajamas would have to do for tonight. You’d go get her some new clothes first thing in the morning.

“I’ve left a towel and some clothes for you on the counter here once you’re done,” you instructed the girl, placing the items next to the sink for her to see. She nodded, and you turned to leave so she could get to it, but then she pulled on your shirtsleeve. When you turned back to her, she was pointing to the spot in front of the bathroom door, small grunts leaving her throat as she tried to voice something to you.

Initially, you didn’t get what she was saying, thinking she was trying to point something out to you that you didn’t see. But when understanding dawned, your heart melted a little. “You want me to wait out there for you?” you asked.

The girl’s eyes lit up as she furiously nodded her head, and you chuckled, happy that you were able to gain just a little bit of her trust. You went and stood in the spot the girl indicated, and she closed the door behind her, though not all the way, leaving it slightly ajar.

You went and rested on the chair in the corner of the room, your feet starting to get sore as they tended to at this point in your pregnancy.

Time passed sluggishly as you scrolled on your phone, the minutes blending together and a wicked tiredness engulfing you from head to toe. You didn’t want to leave the room in case the girl needed something, so you slowly started dozing off in the chair when you finally heard the squeak of the bathroom door. You looked up to the see the girl walking out, her head swiveling and catching sight of you. She approached you with a hairbrush in her hands and the legs of the pajama bottoms dragging behind her.

“Let me fix those for you,” you said as you bent down and cuffed the pants to fit the girl better. Once you did so, she handed you the hairbrush, silently asking you to detangle her hair for her. It was going to be a feat because a lot of her hair was matted, and you knew you were going to have to be very gentle. The girl turned around and you thought she was going to sit on the floor in front of you, but instead she planted herself on your lap. A rush of warmth and affection flooded your body, the immense need to protect the girl overtaking your senses.

While you were brushing her hair, the girl looked around the room, familiarizing herself with her surroundings. When her eyes landed on the stack of magazines on the side table next to you, she froze, and then abruptly stood up, startling you.

“I’m not done-“ you began, but then saw that the girl was pointing at the magazine on the top of the stack.

“Oh that’s a magazine. My favorite one, actually ” you said in reference to the old issue of Harper’s Bazaar she was pointing at. But then the girl started aggressively tapping the cover, so you leaned in closer to get a better look and saw that she was specifically pointing at Harper’s.

“Is your name Harper?”

She aggressively nodded again, in the way she does when you understand what she’s saying.

You finally had her name, and you felt much better now that you knew the girl was feeling comfortable enough to tell it to you.

“Harper,” you said, and she beamed up at you, her smile brighter than any other she had given you tonight.

With this happy revelation, you finished brushing Harper’s hair and then finally tucked her into bed. The poor girl was so exhausted that she passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

You closed the door behind you with a soft thud as you left the room. As happy as you were with the progress you’d made with Harper, you were equally concerned for your husband. Obviously, what he’d seen had affected him, and all you wanted was to be there for him, but you and Simon both knew Harper took precedence in this situation.

Every second Simon spent looking at the girl sent him into a spiral of unspeakable sadness and anger. He knew that the little girl’s captives were dead, and that they couldn’t bring her anymore harm, but that didn’t lessen the red that clouded his vision, or dull the melancholy he felt.

Simon had to leave the room as soon as he saw the girl was safe and being cared for by you. Of course, he felt bad leaving his pregnant wife to look after a little girl he had just brought into their house, but he was spiraling and he didn’t know what to do.

Blindly, he went to the alcohol bar in the corner of the living room and grabbed his favorite bottle of Bourbon and a rocks glass. He poured himself two fingers of the liquor, breaking the promise he made to himself to not drink while you were pregnant. He was abstaining as an act of solidarity since he knew how much you missed your wine, but these circumstances called for a little bit of medicine.

Simon then found himself pouring another two fingers of the liquid, and then another, before deciding to cool it—albeit with much difficulty. He couldn’t leave you caring for a little girl and an inebriated husband.

He couldn’t understand what compelled him to bring the girl home with him, why her appearance and disposition brought him so much anguish. Except he did; he understood that he saw so much of the broken boy he used to be in that little girl. It made him want to throw up.

The moment Simon laid eyes on the bruised and battered girl in that shit hole of a basement, he was transported back to his childhood. Visions of belts and fists and blacks and blues clouded his mind like a thick fog on a summer morning.

Simon’s teammates tried talking to him, noticing his sudden change in demeanor, but to no avail. The world around him was buzzing, almost like the TV static of an old CRT. And he craved nothing more than to fall into the void of numbness.

“Simon?” Your voice broke through the darkness of his mind as you came to stand in front of him, soft and careful and just what he needed to hear. Your hand came up to rest on his cheek, and just that simple touch gave him a world of comfort. He leaned into your palm, bringing his hands up to your hips and gently tugging you towards him until you were straddling his seated form.

Simon knew that you were the only person in the world who could keep him grounded in the present, bring him back from the scariest depths of his wretched mind, and so tonight he was going to be selfish and take all the comfort that you’d be willing to give him.

Feeling a tightness in his throat and a stinging in his nose, Simon brought you impossibly closer and buried his face in your neck.

You held your husband, feeling his body shake as he was wracked with silent sobs. Simon wasn’t one to hold back how he was feeling from you—you both had worked too hard on communicating your emotions to each other for all that to be taken back now—but you had only ever seen him cry once before: the day you got married. And that too was only a single tear before he composed himself.

“You wanna tell me what you’re feeling?” you asked gently, letting him know you’re here to talk without making him feel pressured to do so.

When Simon continued to just hold you, you didn’t press the matter, presuming he didn’t want to discuss it right now. But eventually, he sat back, keeping a firm hold on your waist while finally bringing his blood-shot eyes to you.

“When we raided those houses tonight, the last thing I expected was to find little girls and boys chained up in a decrepit basement like rabid animals,” Simon began, a profound sadness lingering in his eyes as he gazed away, lost in the memory of the night before. “The mission was supposed to be a simple bust, something with illegal weapons.” He shook his head. “But human trafficking?”

It sickened Simon to think of all the other operations they were probably running that would take him months, if not years, to bust.

“When I saw the girl,” Simon continued, talking about Harper, “For a second…I saw myself in her. She was the most severely injured out of all the kids, and somehow, I just knew it was because she had been fighting her captives tooth and nail.”

He then shook his head again with a scoff. “I don’t know…I just had this visceral need to protect her.”

You didn’t try to analyze Simon’s feelings, because that wasn’t your job. You weren’t his therapist, you were his wife. So you nodded in understanding and brought your arms around him again, resting your cheek on the crown of his head.

“You did the right thing bringing Harper here while they look for her family. She could use a stable environment right now,” you said.

“Harper? Is that her name?” Simon questioned, and you beamed down at him.

“Yeah, she told me upstairs.”

“She spoke to you?”

You shook your head no. “Pointed to an old issue of Harper’s Bazaar I had laying out,” you chuckled.

“Hmm.”

You watched as Simon got lost in his head again.

“Listen to me,” you said, bringing his attention back to you. “Harper’s safe now. She’s here, and we’ll take care of her for as long as needed before she goes back to her family.” You took Simons hands, which were still holding your waist, and brought them to your front, interlocking your fingers with his. “She has been through something traumatic. And it will take time, but she will bounce back. I can see the fight in her.”

Simon contemplated your words, thinking back to the fight Harper had put up when he tried to help her, thinking he was another bad man trying to hurt her. She had cowered at the sight of him, especially scared because of the skull plate mask he wore. At that understanding, he took it off, and explained to her gently that they were there to save her. She had reluctantly accepted help, though not from him. A female sergeant had interjected and further calmed her down, gaining enough of her trust to get her to the evac plane.

Harper was jumpy and sensitive to the loud noises around her, living in a perpetual state of fear until he brought her to you. He knew if anyone could give her the care she needed, it was his wife.

“Maybe,” Simon mused. “It’s not that I don’t think she’ll be fine, it’s that the road there is unfathomably difficult and just as equally traumatizing.”

You nodded your head, knowing Simon was speaking from experience. You wouldn’t diminish his past by pretending that you understood what he was going through. You just had to pull him out of this downward spiral.

“That’s why having a support system is so important. And she’ll have that in us for as long as is allowed,” you said.

You smoothed a thumb across Simon’s cheek, pained at the anguish radiating off him in waves. You’d never seen him like this before, but you would do everything in your power to provide him solace.

And Simon noticed, saw how much you reassured him and tried to give some peace of mind with small touches and understanding glances.

After weeks away from you, and especially after the events of the day before, he needed to kiss you, to feel the physical connection. It was gentle at first, just a soft brush of his lips against yours. But it morphed into something deeper at your small moans and whimpers.

Oh, how Simon loved the noises you made for him, and he’d die before he let them be someone else’s. He’d die before he let you go.

“I love you,” Simon whispered as he slightly pulled away, grazing his thumb across your now swollen bottom lip. The love Simon had for you was beyond what regular words had the capacity to explain, and to sic the English language on it would be a disservice. But he made do with the simplest ones, hoping you felt the power lying underneath them.

You smiled, knowing that he didn’t have to say it for you to feel it. There wasn’t a time in your years together where you didn’t feel loved by him. You could see it in the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, at the possessive way he held you at any given moment, by the tone of his voice when he talked to you.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back.

You spent the next couple of hours just talking, updating him on everything he missed during his absence. Work drama, doctor’s visits, an impromptu trip you took with your sister when you were feeling lonely. Everything you both could talk about, you did talk about.

These were your favorite moments with him, the quiet nights where you could just enjoy each other’s presence. You could move to the ends of the earth with Simon, the freezing tundra or the blazing desert, and they would still feel like home as long as he was with you.

After a while, when your eyes got droopy and frequent yawns interrupted your conversation, Simon gathered you up in his arms and took you to bed.

He desperately wanted to fuck you, feel that ultimate connection with you, but he saw that you were too tired for all that. This pregnancy was taking its toll on you, and he regretted the times he couldn’t be there to help you through it.

“Life’s too short to have regrets,” you had told Simon before he went on his most recent mission, after he had voiced his remorse at not being with you at your most vulnerable. You had been sad about his departure—you never stopped being sad—especially because you’d been blessed in that he hadn’t been deployed for most of your pregnancy. But such was the life of a military wife, having to see your spouse leave to go on dangerous missions and wondering if those were your last moments together.

Those kinds of thoughts weren’t worth your brain-space, you told yourself. But your anxiety made that hard.

Nonetheless, you thanked your lucky stars that Simon was back with you now, tightly holding onto him in bed.

You went on to sleep peacefully, feeling Simon’s protective body curled around yours. And although sleep usually eluded him, tonight, Simon finally got a good night’s rest with you in his embrace.

[ughkat]

hey! i would love if you could write something where dom!luke has had enough of female readers teasing and how she refuses to obey him. including bratting from the reader, lots of praise and degradation, and maybe some edging as punishment? then super sweet aftercare at the end? :)

a/n: sorry these requests are taking so long! like i said ive been super busy these holiday months, but im trying to slowly work my way back into writing :-) hope u like *muah*

brat - l.r.h

cw: smut, doggy, unprotected sex, dom!luke, rough sex, edging, cursing, aftercare, spanking, creampie?��

not proofread

italics = text message

~

"Long day at work today. Missing your pretty face."

I grinned uncontrollably at Luke's sweet words, laid out lazily on our messy bed.

I was bored with nothing to do while Luke did his duties at work. Having already finished up the house work; cleaning, laundry, I was left to my own devices, giving me an hour and a half until Luke's arrival home.

I was curled up in our sheets, in only a loose fitting T-shirt and panties, thinking of ways to tackle my boredom until my boyfriends shift ended.

In my brainstorming, I bit my lip mischievously, as a cheeky light bulb went off in my head. I re-read Luke's text a few times before opening my camera app, pulling my shirt up ever so slightly to expose my underboobs and cleavage. I giggled softly and the thought of my actions consequences, as Luke was at his place of work and wouldn't be able to handle himself.

I snapped a few risqué photos, some of my chest just barely covering my nipples, some of my whole body from a higher angle. I went back to our message thread, sending Luke only one picture at a time.

Attachment: 1 Photo

"Missing you too :)"

I bit my lip nervously as I waited for his response, his reaction time being quicker than I was expecting. Luke read my message, letting a few minutes pass before responding.

"I'm at work, love."

I immediately recognized his flat tone over text, laughing internally at how quickly I could make him crumble. I swiftly selected another photo before sending my next message.

Attachment: 1 Photo

"I thought you missed me?"

I watchted as the three dots danced on my screen, disappearing and reappearing over and over as Luke frantically searched for his words.

"You better stop."

My leg bounced anxiously, yet I was filled with excitement. I could tell the mood I was slowly pushing him into. I sent one more photo before Luke had to tend back to his work.

Attachment: 1 Photo

"Or what?"

Luke responded quickly.

"Such a brat. Just wait till I get home."

I giggled at Luke's obvious frustration, glancing at the time and noting the 15 minutes until the end of his shift. I closed my phone and melted back into the bed, my mind wandering to the possibilities of what would happen once Luke got home.

I jolted from my seat slightly at the sound of jingling keys unlocking the front door. My heart couldn't help but pick up its pace with intriguing fear. I decided to keep my place in the room, letting Luke find his way to me.

I listened carefully as he entered our home, kicking his shoes off and making his way around the flat. I bit my cheek nervously as I hear his heavy footsteps approach our bedroom.

He opened the door calmly, looking at me with narrow eyes. I looked up at him, twirling my thumbs in my hands. I couldn't help but let a small giggle escape my lips. Luke's eyes widened as he approached me, his tall frame towering right over mine on the bed.

"You think it's funny?" He spoke deeply, slowly leaning down to my face and placing two hands on the bed on each side of me. I smirked slightly, giving him a small shrug. He laughed through his nose.

"You like being a brat? Teasing me at work with your little pictures?" He growled into my ear. His hot breath against my skin sending chills down my neck.

"What are you gonna' do about it?" I teased, tilting my head. He looked at me briefly before standing back up.

"Up." He ordered abruptly, motioning with his hand for me to stand up. I stood up slowly, keeping my eye contact with him.

"Turn around." He growled. My knees hit the bed as I turned the other way, my back facing him. He quickly pushed on my back, making my chest and stomach hit the bed, emitting a small gasp from me. He leaned his body over mine, speaking deeply into my ear.

"Wanna act like a brat, get treated like one." I could hear the smile in his voice as his hands trailed to my bare rear side, only covered ever so slightly by my skimpy underwear.

With no warning, I felt a sharp smack against my bare cheek, making me squeal. He ran his hand over the spot before bringing it down again sharply, making me jump with a whimper.

"Like being treated like my slut, baby?" He cooed, watching my abused cheek grow redder by the second. I nodded frantically, my words caught in my throat.

"I can't hear you, doll." He smirked. I whimpered once more, squirming under his touch.

"I love being your slut, Lu." I muttered through my lips, turning my head slightly towards him.

"That's my good girl." He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, "Get up." He assisted me getting up from my stomach, pulling my by my arm back on to my feet.

"Knees." He spoke simply, placing a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him as I slowly lowered myself to my knees, eye level to his bulging slacks. He brought a hand to his zipper and button, keeping one on my head. I watched in awe as he slowly brought his waistband down, exposing his throbbing member.

"Lemme see that pretty mouth, doll." He tilted his head, bringing his hand down and running a thumb over my bottom lip. I opened my mouth slightly, inviting his calloused finger inside. His thumb pushed through my lips, exploring my wet tongue and mouth adoringly. I looked up at him through my lashes as he watch my lips wrap around his finger warmly.

"Fuck." He groaned through his teeth, bringing his tip to my lips.

I stuck my tongue out, pushing my head forward to take him in my mouth fully. He placed two hands on my head, tossing his head back and he pushed himself fully into my throat, making my choke slightly.

"So fuckin' warm, baby." He ran his fingers through my hair before gripping it tightly, beginning to guide my head himself. I followed his oace with my own neck, bobbingback and forth steadily. He noticed my eagerness to speed up and let out a chuckle.

Luke gripped my head tightly, swiftly picking up his pace to throat fuck me. Tears began to pool at the corners of my eyes as I gagged and choked on his length.

"That it baby? You like getting your throat fucked like a good slut?" He growled as his shaft repeatedly hit the back of my throat, saliva dripped down my chin and neck. He watched as my mascara ran down my cheeks, I gripped his thighs tightly for support.

Luke pulled himself from my mouth abruptly, pulling my back to my feet by my biceps. I panted and my breathing was staggered as he assisted in moving me to the bed, roughly tossing my on my stomach. He swiftly pulled my panties down, pushing the underside of my knees to prop my ass up.

"Such a pretty pussy." He cooed from behind me, he sat perched on his knees, running his hands on the underside of my thighs. I squirmed and whimpered in desperation, the chill air hitting my wet mound. Luke slowly ran his middle finger down my slick folds, bringing it to his mouth right after.

"So wet for me, doll." He teased.

"Lu.. Please." I begged into the sheets, my heat throbbing for attention. He let out a chuckle as my eagerness.

"Please what?" He tilted his head, "What do you want, doll?" I let out a frustrated sigh.

"Please. Touch me. Anything. Fuck me." My words were scattered, Luke's dominance had numbed my brain.

"Do you deserve it?" heaven smirked as he spoke, "Teasing me all day like a brat, should I let you cum?" He spoke with a smart-ass tone. I groaned loudly, kicking my foot with frustration.

"Please, Luke. I need you." I whined. He chuckled softly before bringing two fingers to my wet folds, running them up and down before pushing then into my entrance abruptly. I let out a gasp as his touch, my hands gripping the sheets tightly.

"This what you wanted, love?" He spoke deeply, picking up his fingers pace, keeping his free hand on my bare cheek. I nodded frantically, unable to use my words.

"Mm, yes. Fuck." I whimpered. Luke continuously pumped two fingers in and out of my entrance, the sound of my wetness colliding with his fingers filling the room.

He stood up on his knees, keeping his fingers in me, as he lined his tip up with my entrance. With no warning, his fingerd were quickly replaced with his throbbing member, continuing the same quick pace his fingers once were. I let out a squeal at the sudden feeling, making Luke chuckle from behind me. He grabbed my wrists, binding them behind my back with one hand, placing his other hand on my hip, gripping tightly.

"Was thing your goal? Huh?" He growled between thrusts, "Act like a brat all day so I come home and fuck you like a slut?". I moaned loudly in response, my words jumbled in my throat.

"I cant hear you." He spoke, leaning down closer to my ear.

"Y-yes." I whimpered, "I love being your slut." I choked out between moans.

"Y'sound so pretty trying to take my cock." He growled. Luke quickened his pace, his hips smacking against my ass roughly, my rearside skin turning red.

"M'god, Luke. Fuck." I whined loudly into the sheets, Luke's shaft hitting my walls quickly and repeatedly.

"You done being a brat?" He spat, bringing a quick hand down to my cheek. I squealed in response, nodding my head.

"M-mhm." I whimpered. "I'm your good girl." Luke chuckled.

"Atta girl."

I began to shake, feeling my walls clench against his member.

"Don't cum till I say." I muttered, watching himself go in and out of my abused hole. I whined, arching my back.

"Please, Lu. Need to cum." I cried out. His pace remained fast and hard.

"Not yet, doll." He smirked. His edging drove me crazy, chills being sent throughout my whole body feeling like electricity. My eyes rolled back in my head at the overstimulation.

"Should I let you cum, baby? You deserve it?" He teased softly. I nodded frantically.

"Beg." He spoke deeply. His thrusts numbing my mind, I tried to gather my words.

"Lu, please. I'll be a g-good girl. P-please let me cum." I whimpered a series of pleads.

"Hmm." He hummed, his teasing becoming agonizing.

"Fuck, Luke, please." I whined. He let out a devious laugh before speaking.

"Cum for me, doll. Cum all over my cock.".

Immediately, his words signaled my release, making me shake beneath him. I almost collapsed onto my stomach before Luke wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me up as he continued his fast thrusting. I shook as he continued to fuck me hard and fast for his own climax, the pleasure was overwhelming.

"Fuck." He let out various curses and grunts as he reached his climax, gripping my hips tightly before slowly pulling back out.

He released his grip on me, letting me fall gently to my stomach on the bed. He rolled onto his back, moving beside me as we took a minute of silence to catch out breath.

Luke turned his head to me, moving a tuft of hair out of my face. My eyes opened lazily, metting his bright blue ones.

"You okay?" He smiled warmly. I closed my eyes again with a tired smile, nodding gently. He leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on my cheek, then my forehead. He leaned back again, admiring my messy and clammy features.

"You're so pretty." He said in an almost childlike manor, making me giggle.

"I look crazy." I rolled my eyes, aware of my freakish appearance after my hard pounding.

"I think you look pretty. My pretty girl." He ran the back of his fingers of my cheek as we laid together in comfortable silence, taking in each others company. His hands trailed all over my upper body, soothing me after the overwhelming events that had just taken place.

"I'll be right back." Luke abruptly sat up, pulling his boxers back on before exiting our bedroom. I laid content in our bed, continuing to catch my breath as Luke disappeared.

He returned quickly with two water bottles and various snacks from our kitchen, making me giggle.

Luke returned to his place beside me in bed, handing me a water bottle. I sat up, criss cross, taking a sip from the bottle. Luke grabbed me swiftly by my hips, pulling me into him, my back to his chest.

"I love you, doll." I murmured into my neck, placing a lazy kiss on my shoulder.

"I love you." I giggled

I sighed at the comfort of him, his touch and presence bringing me a feeling of safety that I had never felt before.

[thebarontheabyss]

I absolutely adore your IF! the aesthetics, the storytelling, the mystery, the fantasy elements.. everything. I've never read an IF where I've had such a hard time choosing someone to romance. usually I only gravitate toward 1-2 ROs but with yours, I want to romance all of them!!! excuse me while I ramble... [spoilers ahead]

Death: everything they do is just so cute. the way they kept glancing at us from afar at the bar, and that scene where they're lying in our bed and tells us how pretty we are... I was kicking my legs and screaming internally

Lilith/Damien: hottie alert!! can't help but be drawn to them even knowing how dangerous and scheming devils can be... my MC be shamelessly flirting with them in front of yaga and peisinoe

Morgan(a): so charming and swoon-worthy. that dinner date was so romantic! it doesn't help my heart that the Morgan character art reminds me of howl from howl's moving castle... and the angst potential with them being a mortal... I can't wait to see where this goes

Peisinoe: the scenes of their past were heart-wrenching, I just want them to be happy :'( I also love how you've written out the lyrics to their performances, I really feel the melancholic vibes

Hastur: I'm a sucker for the stoic duty-bound types! I can't wait to break down his walls... hehehehe

He Without Name: I can't wait to find out more about him and unravel his mysterious past! really curious as to whether he will take on a more solid form and be able to interact better at the end..? having read up to the memoriam update, I do have a theory about him being related to adamot somehow - I could be totally off, but he said his purpose was to keep balance? whereas tehomot is for entropy/chaos. and maybe he is "the child" that tehomot was referring to in that council of nine scene. also I can't get out of my head how for Valentine's Day, he would just leave a flower under our pillow <3 simple, but cute and impactful

thank you for sharing such a wonderful story. I'm so excited for more updates!

Thank you for the positive review! It warmed my heart ❤️ Still recovering from the flu here so I hope it doesn't raise my temperature again jkjk

And here are my notes about your notes lol:

Drunk Death is the best Death!!! I can’t wait to write the date scenes for them actually

For Lilith/Damian, scheming will play an integral (and infernal part) of their story. They will be a focus for the update following this one along with Yaga, and I'm excited to start defining their characters!

Howl was a reference I sent for the artwork for Morgan/a! That wonderful wizard totally inspired their character, although I want to make them into more of a reconstruction of the character type later on 👀

Every time I hear a jazz song lately, I just Imagine Peisinoe singing it. I can’t help but stan them.

There won't be a long wait for Hastur! The walls will crumble in the upcoming update. That's all for now. 👀

Damn, I love your theories about He Without Name! My boyfriend always says I'm addicted to spoilers, so for my own personal growth, I'm just going to quietly enjoy the speculations for now hehe

Again, thank you so much for reading and sharing your thoughts! ❤️ These are literally the fuel that helps me get back and write!

[softplushiee]

Day 3: Pining (Derek Suarez x Larisa Last (MC))

@derek-week-event

summary: Larisa has a phone call with Derek which in turn, leads her to think about the deal that had made right before summer ended.

if you’d rather read it on ao3 it’s right here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59182804

It was Friday, and school had just ended for the day. Larisa opened the front door to her house, relieved that the weekend was here. She quickly closed the door behind her and kicked off her shoes.

Larisa hurriedly greeted her moms before heading upstairs to finish her homework—who gives homework on the weekends? Larisa’s worst enemy: her math teacher, Ms. Woodstill. Once she reached her room, Larisa tossed her backpack onto her bed before flopping down and groaning a bit. After her groaning session, she pulled herself up from her comfortable bed, grabbed her backpack, unzipped it, and pulled out the worksheet that was stuffed inside.

After placing the worksheet on her desk, she smoothed out the wrinkles caused by carelessly stuffing the paper into her bag. Larisa then plopped down in her desk chair and got to work.

—

It took her a while, but she finally finished her assignment. As Larisa stretched her back, she stood up and stuffed the worksheet back into her backpack.

Guess all that smoothing out was for nothing, huh?

Anyways, Larisa rushed out of her room, making her way to the home phone downstairs. As she did, she crossed her fingers, hoping no one got to the phone before her.

When she made it to the living room, Larisa let out an internal sigh of relief, seeing the phone in its cradle. She lifted it into one hand and quickly entered a phone number, bouncing her leg excitedly as she waited for someone to pick up.

“Hello, Suarez residence,” she heard a familiar feminine voice say.

“Hello, Mrs. Suarez! This is Larisa! Um, is Derek available?” She tried her best not to sound too excited. “Hey, Larisa!” Mrs. Suarez hummed, “Yes, he is. Hold on a moment; I’ll get him.” Larisa grinned and started to play with the hem of her skirt. “Thank you!”

Larisa made sure to call Derek every week, eager to keep him updated on everything happening in Sunset Bird. Well, it’s more like she was eager to talk with Derek.

Soon, Larisa heard Derek’s voice come through the phone speaker. “Larisa, hey!” She returned his greeting and made idle chatter with him as she went back into her room. “So, how’s school been so far?” Derek asked as Larisa sat on her bed. “It’s been… okay,” she began. “Some of my classes are really stressful, but I’m Larisa Last; I can handle it.” She chuckled, laying back on her bed with the phone still in hand. “Right, you can! Just know that I’m here to support you no matter what. We’re still Team Last, after all!” Derek’s words made Larisa’s smile grow softer and her stomach flutter. “Right!”

For some odd reason, Derek’s words made her think back on that deal they had made—about getting married if they were still single when they were older.

Larisa imagined wearing a beautiful, colorful wedding dress and what Derek would look like dressed in a tasteful suit. Well, if they do get married in the future, Cove has to be Larisa’s best man. Er, butler of honor?

‘What’s the masculine version of maid of honor?’ she wondered to herself.

Anyways, the wedding cake would be chocolate because chocolate is the best flavor of all time, obviously. The cake would be covered in pastel frosting with white edible decorations. It would take place somewhere fancy.

Oh, yes! Larisa was getting excited just thinking about it! She just had to be patient and wait ten years, then she and Derek would have their perfect wedding.

Her daydream was soon interrupted by the man of the hour speaking up. “Uh, Larisa? Everything alright?” he asked, concerned.

“Hm? Sorry, I was lost in thought…” Larisa responded, embarrassment creeping over her. “Anyways, how’s school been for you?” She tried to keep her voice as neutral as possible.

“Don’t sweat it!” Derek said. “School’s been alright. I’ve mainly been focusing on sports and stuff.” Larisa acknowledged this before continuing to talk with Derek.

Unfortunately, their conversation was cut short by the familiar sound of stomping. The stomper opened the door, and there she was—Elizabeth. Larisa’s giddy smile was replaced by a small pout, realizing that she had been on the phone for too long.

Elizabeth smirked at the sight and stated matter-of-factly, “Time’s up.”

“Sorry, Derek, I gotta go. Bye!” Larisa sighed as she said her goodbyes. “I understand. Talk to you later!” he replied. Larisa pressed the end call button, but before she knew it, the phone was whisked out of her hand, and Elizabeth was out of her room.

Thankfully, she closed the door behind her.

—

Larisa was finally alone in her room—alone with her thoughts.

She hopped off her bed and grabbed her sketchbook and pencil that were tossed on top of her dresser. With her sketchbook in hand, Larisa flopped back onto her bed. She smiled to herself and opened up her sketchbook to a blank page.

Holding the pencil properly, she began to sketch a figure similar to herself. After cleaning up the sketch a bit, Larisa carefully drew out a wedding dress.

She pulled the pencil away from the paper and looked over her drawing. The dress was fitted at the top and then flowed at the bottom; it was sleeveless and floor-length. Larisa put the eraser part of the pencil to her lips, pondering what color the dress should be.

Purple? Light blue? Or would a passionate red be more suited? Or should she stick with pastel?

‘Whatever,’ she thought, closing her sketchbook and sitting up to stretch. ‘Ten years is a long way away; I have enough time to decide.’

Larisa hoped that no one would steal Derek’s heart before then.

She put away her sketchbook for safekeeping as she continued to ponder her future with Derek.

‘If we get married, I want Derek to take my last name. Derek Last… would he be okay with that?’ Larisa smiled to herself as she started to head out of her room. ‘I guess I wouldn’t mind being Larisa Suarez.’

She twisted the doorknob, opened the door, and left the sanctuary of her room, thoughts of her and Derek swirling in her mind.

[strawberriemarswrites]

CHAPTER FOUR

Chapter Summary: You treat Bartolomeo to lunch, and you're pretty sure you're not reading too deep into how he interacts with you... Right? Pairing: Bartolomeo x F!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ for the story, SFW chapter) TW: None this chapter, unless you count misunderstandings. Or you're afraid of kitties. Ao3 Link: Chapter Four (3,411 words)

The place was a hole-in-the-wall diner near the subway station. You kept telling yourself that you’d try it sometime after work, given that it always smelled like fried food when you walked by. Now you had the perfect opportunity. Greasy burgers and fries weren’t the most romantic thing in the world, but you weren’t going for romantic. You were going for something that was cheap, filling, and within walking distance. Better to save anything ritzy or personal for when you knew for sure whether or not Bartolomeo was interested in you, or if you were even compatible. After all, you were trying to thank him, not scare him off.

The good news was that Bartolomeo was more than happy with the choice. He agreed to the location with all the enthusiasm of a kid being told he could get whatever he wanted from the toy store. With how quickly he showed up at your door, you had a feeling that he would have shown the same level of excitement if you’d picked gas station sushi. Even with the return of his cool and untouchable demeanor when you both stepped out the door, you didn’t miss how he kept glancing over at you during the whole walk to the diner. Like he was worried that you would fall behind with how big his stride was, or somehow get swept away by the moderate foot traffic.

Resisting the urge to hold his hand was easier said than done. Unbeknownst to you, he was thinking the same thing.

In fact, for Bartolomeo it was agonizing, but he already felt like he toed the line of “too much” when he showed up at your door less than thirty minutes after you asked him out. He was trying to play it cool, though internally he was about ready to throw you over his shoulder and take you back home. Who cares that you both just sat down for food — he wanted to find out firsthand if his fantasies could compare to the real thing. 

He vigorously shook his head, trying to focus on the menu. Slow down, Barto. It’s just lunch. With her. In public. Where anyone can see and assume we’re—

“Everything okay?”

He looked up then quickly back down. Nevermind. He wasn’t sure he’d make it through lunch. Surely, he’d die of cuteness overload first.

“Yeah,” he lied. “Just wonderin’ what to get.”

“Whatever you want,” you said, resting your cheek against your knuckles. “My treat, remember?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to go broke or nothin’.”

You smirked. “Are you planning on having one of everything?”

He shook his head. Just you.

“Then don’t worry, lunch with you isn’t gonna break the bank.” You looked down at the menu yourself and gave an exaggerated wince. “Maybe don’t order the steak.”

Bartolomeo’s responding laugh was low in his chest, a stark contrast from his usual loud and boisterous one but no less full of amusement. A pleasant shiver went up your spine at the sound, and you wondered what you’d have to do to hear more of it.

Once drinks were ordered, you leaned forward again and smiled, kicking your legs. “So, last night, I never got an answer to the whole ‘something you’re passionate about’ thing.”

From there, it was almost seamless. Bartolomeo told you about his interest in motorcycles, how he was saving up for one so he could get out of the city every now and then. You chatted about different places you knew from growing up in the suburbs, and where the best scenic roads were. You mentioned your free time was usually spent watching movies or playing video games, which led to him to go on for several minutes about the Yakuza Kiwami series and how he could lend you his copies. Then he talked about how his own free time now was usually spent helping his best friend Gambia, whose grandmother owned The Sound Barrier. When you told him you thought it was nice of him to help, he shrugged it off — he wasn’t nice, he just knew it’d be shitty not to help out someone who was practically his brother. You decided not to argue that he was nice, considering he barely knew you when he had offered to look out for you. Better to let him have his way so he could keep up the whole devil-may-care attitude.

By the time the food came out, you were more aware of the fact that Bartolomeo’s legs were stretched out far enough for his feet to be touching your side of the booth. His knees were wide apart, leaving your legs dangling between his. Feeling a bit more bold, you lifted and dropped one leg, letting your calf brush against his and watching carefully to gauge his response.

“By the way,” you said after inhaling a few fries, trying to remain nonchalant, “my friends seemed to like you. Nami especially. She thought what you did was hilarious.”

Bartolomeo shrugged, his ears turning pink. “Guy deserved it. I’d be a pretty bad bartender if I let that kind of shit go unpunished.” He then cracked a smile. “You should’a seen him after the switch. Dumbass didn’t even realize his drink was suddenly cider instead of beer and just kept drinking it.”

You laughed, covering your mouth. “No way, seriously? How fucked up did he get?”

He shrugged again. “Last I saw him he could barely stand from the barstool. Gambia had to throw him out the back door when we closed up. I didn’t tell him about what happened ‘til after.” He tore into his burger to keep from going into detail about what he did in the alley, and hoped to whatever god was out there you didn’t notice him shiver when your leg touched his.

You lifted your other leg, this time letting your foot nearly touch the underside of his knee before letting it drop back down. More color spread across his face, and his posture seemed to stiffen. Was that too much? You crossed your ankles and dug into your grilled cheese, thinking it might be better to see if he reciprocated the contact.

“Robin kept calling you ‘Rooster’ all night, so I know she likes you,” you continued. “She thought what you did was funny, too — said it was ‘unorthodox’ but deserved.”

Bartolomeo relaxed now that you weren’t making his heart race, and tried to appreciate the flattery behind your statement, but then he remembered the fourth member of your friend group. He felt the same knee-jerk jealousy that crept into his mind upon seeing him last night, and he had to force it back down before it made his shoulders turn to stone with the rising tension. “What about the big guy?”

“Drake? He actually saw the initial slip, then saw you switch before he could step in.”

His brow twitched, and he tried not to let the bitterness creep into his tone. “Sounds like a nice guy, if he was willin’ to get involved.”

You shrugged. “Last night was the first time I’d seen him outside of work, so I wasn’t sure how he’d do. He seems kind of protective though, thinks you went a little far.”

Bartolomeo could care less what he thought. You were grateful, and you were still here without a scratch on you, and that was what mattered. He kept his promise to look after you, and he was going to keep looking after you. No matter how “protective” anyone thought they were being if they decided to get in the way of that.

You finished your drink and continued, “I think he’s just more of a stickler for doing things the ‘right’ way, since he was also really worried about Nami scamming drinks off your other customers.” Your eyes widened and you covered your face. “Oh my god — she’s gonna kill me for telling you that.”

The loud, boisterous laugh was back, and Bartolomeo shook his head. “She’s not the first to try, won’t be the last.” He grinned, leaning forward and resting his cheek against his knuckles, the tension finally leaving his shoulders some. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

Sweetheart. Your chest fluttered so suddenly it was almost painful. That had to mean something, for him to use it when it was just you two and outside of the bar. You giggled and smiled wide, unable to stop the floaty feeling in your chest from reaching your voice, “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

He shrugged. “Hey, what’re friends for?”

A plate shattered in the kitchen.

You both flinched and Bartolomeo looked over his shoulder, meaning he missed your smile shattering to the floor. Friends. You were almost embarrassed, really — he just said his free time was spent helping his friend, so probably didn’t have the time for a relationship. He probably had no interest in one, either. 

It still stung like hell to hear it. Friends.

When Bartolomeo faced you again, something seemed different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something seemed just a little less radiant about your smile. “Everything okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

Now why didn’t he believe that? He gave you a once-over, brow furrowed slightly. You had tucked your arms in a little closer to yourself, and he hadn’t felt your legs nudge against his for a bit. In the midst of his earlier euphoria over the gentle contact, it hadn’t occurred to him that maybe it was accidental, and now you were suddenly aware of how much space he occupied. While it hurt a little to think it wasn’t intentional, it made sense — maybe you didn’t want to rush things (even if he really, really wanted to). Not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable, he spread his legs a touch further. He already almost fucked up by letting his little guilty pleasure get out of hand, so he’d do anything to try and remedy it by getting to know you the normal way.

Even though doing anything the “normal” way didn’t suit him, Bartolomeo was determined to be at least a little bit good. Just for you. He didn’t want to scare you off.

You, however, were now certain you had spooked him. He had shifted his legs further apart, which in your mind proved that he didn’t reciprocate the earlier touches. Though trying to keep up the smile was starting to feel phony, you used it to hide your disappointment, slowly letting yourself sink into the seat. It was fine. This was fine.

You did your best not to let the walk home be awkward. You let Bartolomeo lead the conversation a bit more, listening to him describe other times he’d stopped creeps at the bar. Apparently, though infrequent, it happened enough that he and his friend had a system, and he’d technically gone off-script the night before. You considered asking why he’d done something different for you, before biting your tongue and considering otherwise. It was nice just to listen to him, and you were again reassured that regardless of whether you were friends or more that he’d watch out for you.

As you approached the apartment building, you paused, a very faint but familiar sound reaching your ears. Bartolomeo kept on for a few steps before stopping himself, turning to look at you. “You good?”

You nodded but said nothing, instead staring down the alley between the apartment and the neighboring building. 

He rejoined you and leaned to one side, his gaze following yours. “You sure about that?”

“I just thought I saw something,” you said, distracted.

Then you heard it again: a very faint, mewling sound.

With a gasp and no hesitation, you started down the alley.

“Ah — wait a sec!” Bartolomeo only had to take a few long strides to catch up, but he very nearly bolted out in front of you. “Where’re you going? The front door’s—”

You shushed him, putting up a finger and pausing to listen. The mewling came again, much closer and to your right. You turned and looked down, seeing a beat-up, damp box. The lid had been folded shut in a way that kept it closed without tape, but was clearly too much for the critter inside to break through. Falling to a crouch you shuffled toward it, ignoring the grit and grime of the concrete as you put your hands down on it to keep yourself balanced occasionally. 

Bartolomeo followed your lead, though you missed how his hands reached and retreated — something about the risk of you getting dirty made him nervous. To him, it was like you were reaching into a world you didn’t belong to. He wanted to keep you safe from it. He could get dirty all he needed, all he wanted, and if you were going to insist you do the same he doubted he could stop you. This was all sparked by what amounted to just gritty concrete and a dingy box, but he still couldn’t help but worry.

Carefully, you opened the box, and let out a high-pitched cry. “Barto, look!”

He peered over your shoulder, and nearly melted.

In the box was a very tiny kitten, black with orange speckles. It mewed, standing on its back legs and attempting to climb out of the box now that it was open, but it could barely reach the top edge.

You whimpered and reached in, letting the kitten sniff your fingers before petting its head. “Who left you here? Who’d be so mean?”

Bartolomeo leaned over you, trying not to let your bodies touch. He wanted so badly to pick you up and hug you with how you cooed and doted on a stray kitten, but he remembered how you looked in the diner, and that he was trying to be good. But goddamn, it was hard to resist. Instead, he reached past you and toward the kitten as well, mirroring your gesture and letting the kitten sniff his hand. 

“Poor little guy,” you said, before shrugging off your cardigan. “Barto, do you know if there’s a pet deposit?”

He was so distracted by the fuzzy, glittery bulbs he imagined around you that it took a moment to register that you asked a question. “What?”

“I’m taking him in. You think the landlord would mind?”

Bartolomeo blinked and struggled very hard not to get choked up. Of course you’d take in a stray kitten. You were so good. As you bundled up the kitten into your sweater, the fuzzy bulbs returned, and he felt like he was staring at a painting of a Madonna and child. How could he ever hope to measure up to that kind of goodness. The saint who’d given the sinner a chance — he was suddenly all too aware of how easily he could tarnish it.

He cleared his throat, regaining his composure with a shake of his head. “No — uh. I don’t know about a pet deposit, but it should be fine.”

You smiled, the light from it nearly blinding him. “Can you help me keep this little guy secret then? Between us friends? At least until I can either find a home for him or get him settled.”

Bartolomeo nodded eagerly, mirroring your smile. “Yeah, I can do that.”

And then it hit him. A secret between... friends?

Oh. Oh fuck. Friends.

Part of him? Ecstatic. Absolutely thrilled. Could not be happier to be considered your friend, and that was the honest truth. He was going to be the best damn friend you’d ever had.

Another part of him, however, cried out in anguish. How was he ever supposed to hope he could get close to you if you just thought of him as “friend”? Panic filled his veins. What could he have done different? Did he misinterpret the leg touching? Should he have reciprocated? Should he have let his body touch yours just a moment ago? Should he have told you the lengths he went to in order to ensure that creep from the night before never set foot in his bar again?

Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck—

“Oh no.”

Your voice snapped Bartolomeo from his thoughts. He looked down at the kitten in your arms, and noticed it, too.

There was a cut under its left eye.

You gently tipped its head back, trying to get a better look at the crusted over gash. The kitten protested, wiggling a bit and mewling louder. Your heart ached — did someone hurt it, then try to abandon it when they realized they couldn’t? Or was it hurt from the start and someone decided they weren’t going to keep something that might actually take effort to take care of?

With a huff, you pushed yourself up and looked back toward the street. “Come on, let’s sneak him in! I’ll get him all cleaned up.”

Bartolomeo nodded and stood, still reeling internally with the mixed ecstasy and despair. With another shake of his head he recomposed himself, taking the lead out of the alley. He could tear himself apart internally over the word “friend” later. Right now, he was going to get you past the landlord.

It wasn’t all that hard to get the cat through the door and up the elevator. The landlord didn’t even seem to be in his office. You thanked Bartolomeo for the help, and he thanked you for lunch, and you parted ways in the hall as you set to work cleaning up the kitten. 

It served to be a nice distraction from the crushing feeling in your chest, checking it for fleas, disinfecting the cut, what its parts were (you had said “little guy” as a diminutive, but it turned out to be accurate). Once he was all dry, you took a picture and sent it to the group chat, asking for name ideas. You know you’d said that you wanted to keep him secret from the landlord until you found someone else to take care of him, but who were you kidding — you’d always wanted a cat. It didn’t take long for the group chat to respond, your phone chiming in quick succession with messages.

From Nami, embellished with heart emojis, “WHAT A CUTIE!”

Followed by a message from Robin, simply reading “Cute,” with a single heart.

Then from Vivi, “He looks like Luffy. Look at that scratch!”

You cocked your head and typed, “Who’s Luffy?”

“An old friend of ours,” Robin responded. “He has a scar under his eye, too.”

Rebecca pitched in. “He has a kind little face. But also looks like he’ll get into mischief. Exactly like Luffy.”

You lifted the kitten up and cooed, “What do you think? Are you a Luffy?”

The kitten let out a loud mew and wiggled in your hold.

You texted, “Luffy it is, then.”

As you sat back on your couch doing the math on how much you could afford in cat supplies this paycheck, you could no longer ignore the twisting pain in your chest. With a deep breath, you finally let yourself cry.

“What are friends for?”

Swallowing the heavy lump in your throat, you decided were perfectly okay with being just friends with Bartolomeo, especially if he treated all of them with the same level of protectiveness and loyalty he seemed to naturally hold. It wasn’t like it was his fault that you misread the situation. You’d been too hopeful and reading too deeply into things, and so it was your burden alone to untangle your feelings. You could do that. Easily. It might take a few days, and a few tipsy, sad calls to the group chat, but you would be okay. At least you had the advantage of only knowing him for a comparatively short amount of time, as opposed to the crushes you had known for years and made the same mistake with.

It still sucked. So you cried. The release felt like a weight off your shoulders, even if it made you miscalculate your budget a few times.

That night, as you lay in bed wondering how to best ask for Monday off so you could take Luffy to the vet, there was a faint nagging feeling in your mind of being watched. But all too quickly, you were falling asleep, and didn’t think too much of it.

Besides. You weren’t being watched. Not technically.

Bartolomeo was just sitting next to the window. Not looking in.

[djpachipikachu]

omgomg i’m so interesting in you usagi/tmnt iteration!!!

okok first what’s like.. the starting point/inciting incident of the story if there is one?

second what are the characters personalities/inerests like?

HAIIII excitedly kicking my legs

the start of the main plot is when usagi goes back in time and is forced into the tmnt’s era of time ,,, he accidentally comes across an ancient relic in the woods with spot (these woods are made of massive ancient trees with equally expansive entangled roots , like if the ocean itself had been a forest instead of filled with water it is kinda horrifying) and it takes him and spot back to the tmnt era , before the relic itself was even created

i do plan on making a comic for this so it wont start out immediately like that but itll have some like . oneshots/episodic comics of usagi’s adventures before that happens, similar to usagi yojimbo’s way of storytelling

PERSONALITIES!!!! WEEHEEE!!!!!

usagi:

most similar to usagi yojimbo, a mature but still like . silly kinda guy ! in the usagi era he takes joy in chatting with people he meets on his travels, incredibly polite, loves to tell stories of myths and gods to children

although most of his days are spent alone with spot , his steed (spot is like horse sized)

he tends not to attach to people or things very much because he knows how easy it is to lose everything, so as much as he enjoys talking to people, he keeps his distance.

he doesnt dedicate himself to being a hero or anything … he will help if he feels people need the help but all hes really trying to do is survive on his own

hes basically like a formless side character . forced bystander in this story

its for the character development i promise

leo:

cold

hes the leader/general of an army, a bit harsh in his personality, doesnt want to be approachable or get close with anyone

hes stern and quiet and kind of a workaholic, his brothers think he needs a life outside of being a leader and Only a leader

tired ! so very tired !

a lot of shit that he internalizes

however a very strong leader and strategist, he is well trusted by those who follow him and they know that his main priority is to get everyone out Alive, more than fight for their cause

he protects fiercely , just insanely bad at showing it . the worst at social things out of all his brothers easily

forced to be an adult at a young age so he never rly got the chance to form a personality outside of his responsibilities

she likes reading in her lonesome though

raph:

PASSIONATE ! ABOUT MANY THINGS !

theyre the sibling that goes out the most and interacts with people on personal levels the most out of everyone ! they have a good rep in the general yokai public !

they do have problems with anger but a lot of the time they channel it into training newbie recruits , the main motivational speaker , they know how to encourage and pump ppl up

a bit recklessly bouncy in how they fight, imagine rottmnt mikey’s energy with mutant mayhem raph’s enjoyment of fighting

the most down to earth out of all their siblings . arguably the most mentally stable out of necessity

they love feeding pigeons and they teach lion dancing to a children’s dance group in the city !

donnie:

obnoxiously gen z . good god . insanely chronically online . most similar to mutant mayhem donnie

he doesnt go out like whatsoever Partially bc he has chronic fatigue syndrome and its easier for him to just stay home, partially bc his brothers are over protective of him and dont want him fighting in the war

so he helps from afar, piloting drones, targeting firearms into battle, building gear for everyone

he likes engaging in arguments online . most exciting thing to him . little fuckass teenager this guy

kendra is his worst online enemy and rival but also like . his only friend . rly sad . joking is his coping mechanism

he loves researching and learning things, it takes up most of his time when he finds a topic to extensivelt research and take notes on

his main interests are the usual coding, engineering, etc As well as the inner workings of mystic power

mikey:

most sociable next to raph !! a very altruistic spirit

he’s most similar to idw mikey i think , most upbeat and relaxed kinda nature !

However . he’s not at all as emotionally aware as any other iteration mikey

he’s very strong in his opinions, stubborn about being right, can very easily fall into a black and white point of view about things, its hard to get thru to him

he loves to dance the most, its how he uses his mystic power

whew okay yeah they might not be the Most accurate bc im still ironing out the main traits but here they areee

[allyouneedarecats]

obligatory kink thoughts for kiddkiller, killerkidd whichever

I feel like kidd would feel guilty spanking killer. like 'who did this to my buddy?' an internal sense that it is not fair because killer works very hard. like kidd can be bossy, dominating, but like unless it was going to get killer's dick hard, he's not calling him a bad boy.

just based on a pure anime dynamic standpoint, I think killer could beat kidd's ass. but also, he's probably be uncomfortable if kidd cried. unless again. it got his dick hard.

kink is unpredictable though and this is too much logic so uh.

kidd spanks killer, and killer is excited. he acts cool but then when he goes to get over kidd's knee, kidd has to be like 'uh buddy wrong side' because it's the one with fucking metal hand.

killer tries very hard not to move or kick while kidd spanks him, so kidd has to pin him down more. 'I've got you. relax' maybe he puts one leg over killer's thighs so he's more secure.

if killer goes into subspace, does he laugh more of less? kidd says he's going to spank him more every time he laughs, but it just starts a chain reaction.

every once and a while, kidd will rub killer's ass but like he kinda does it in a condescending, reading kinda ways.

kidd stops once killer is hard against his thigh. killer is hoping he won't address it. (he wants him to. he doesn't) kidd definitely makes a comment about it. maybe he says "you like that huh?" and makes killer turn over. killer's face is all flushed.

and then kidd bullies him more and fondles him before he kisses him.

an aside: do you think kidd built a fucking machine?? I feel like he could.

because I need to assign someone an aftercare complex, I'm deciding it's killer. I'm gonna say he drops easy because he so self conscious in general. and he was just super exposed for like an hour.

the first time they play, kidd pulls out lotion for killer's pink ass, and killer is like 'bro seriously 🤨' and dips. kidd's like 'damn okay rude'

killer drops like 10 minutes later. 'why did I do that? why did I say that? why did I make that sound? does kidd still respect me?'

kidd finds him because 'actually fuck you. eustace kidd want to cuddle' and finds him.

kidd: come here, you bastard. *cuddle, cuddle*

and then they have to talk about feelings.

[shizukahaiji]

Oh yeah let me actually post my full Blue Lock predictions right now. Most of them are based on nothing but pure vibes alone and sound insane but Trust me. My brain is massive

- Nagi’s getting cut out from the project after this arc, Reo leaving him behind. Ego has some harsh words to say to him before he’s gone since he never liked Nagi to begin with, and Nagi’s crushed because he finally, FINALLY found meaning in his own soccer and was so excited to get to play it with Reo, so he leaves full of spite and just fed up and tired

- ^ Addition to above Nagi leaving is like Reo’s own personal 9/11 but in the time that Nagi’s gone he gets to perfect his own soccer and actually knows what he wants from a dream without Nagi

- I think Hajime Nishioka also gets kicked off the project after the NEL arc too but he does show up later. Trust me on this

- Some characters accept offers and end up playing for different teams in the internationals arc (I want Raichi to play with Kaiser and Ness and Shidou to play for Sae’s team again)

- Three of the background characters from Third Selection make it to the internationals team because Blue Lock LOVES bringing characters from that arc for new arcs but as for who. I can beg for Shizuka Haiji but who knows

- I don’t think they go immediately into internationals next arc I think that’s saved for a different later arc. But I Do think it’s soon

- There’s an arc where Kira comes back and directly challenges Blue Lock by like. Bringing light into the more unethical aspects of the Blue Lock project. Kunigami has a character arc here where he fully comes to terms with what happened to him in Wild Card

- ^ Ray Dark starts having extreme doubts about keeping the Blue Lock project ongoing because of this but less because he’s concerned with morals and more because it’s HORRIBLE for business

- Scandal arc leads up to Kira’s team composed of a lot of former Blue Lock players (Kuon, Hajime and Nagi specifically) challenging Blue Lock for a new place in the U-20 team. They obviously lose but instead of being emotionally affected everybody’s just numb and that’s more painful to read

- Kira is a melodramatic little cunt the entire arc and he’s overexaggerating his experiences at Blue Lock for attention

- Probably teams up with the U-20 coach in a kind of similar way that the otaku character and the theorist in As The Gods Will do to figure out the truth behind the death game

- Everybody is a genuine threat in the Scandal arc match but Hajime is essentially carrying the team and then he gets ANOTHER injury mid match and everything starts falling apart for them

- Reo has a moment after this match that parallels the post-Second Selection match’s “you’re a hassle” Nagi breakup scene and it is heartbreaking and life ruining

- Related to above Imamura is an idol post-Blue Lock based solely on the fact a character does that in As The Gods Will after the death game and it would be funny and also I want to see it

- Kaiser and Sae meet in the internationals arc and fucking HATE each other

- ^ We also find out what finally happened to Sae overseas in the internationals arc

- Ray Dark is Blue Lock’s real villain based solely on how his name is fucking. Ray Dark. That has to be intentional and I’ll believe it until proven otherwise

- At some point in a match with both Chigiri and Yukimiya, Chigiri injures his leg again (it ends up being just a scare and he’s completely fine and it’s manageable) and Yukimiya’s eyesight gets worse (it is Not ok and it’s heartbreaking)

- I kind of want to say they don’t even make it to the final match and the project ends abruptly before they can and they’re fully disqualified

- Blue Lock ends with Anri going to jail and Ego just completely missing

- I do Not think Blue Lock will have a happy ending for most of these characters just based entirely on Kaneshiro’s past writing

- I think Isagi specifically is going to be kind of like Shun post-death game where he’s listless and obsessed with getting revenge, and honestly I think he’s already getting close to that in the present day manga and I want to see him get worse but I don’t think that should be the end of his character arc at all and I think he should find closure somehow

- Kaiser’s birthday is on Christmas and Ness’s birthday is in May

- Rin gets the worst ending out of any character and his life is ruined by the end of the manga

- Bachira gets the best ending out of any character and is probably the catalyst for Isagi coming out of his downward spiral

- Trust me on these guys. Trust me

[edosianorchids901]

Slide

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "a form of distraction"

The way Crowley looked at it, one of the worst parts of existence was his frequent inability to focus. Oh, it might have been fine if it was just him on his own, doing whatever he wanted. But he wasn’t. He was bound to Hell, and Hell did whatever they liked with him.

He massaged his temple, trying to ease the headache even a little bit. It didn’t help. Nothing helped on days like this.

Again, he tried to focus on his book, to lose himself to the novel. Exciting stuff, this. International intrigue, spies, even car chases.

Or at least, that was what the cover promised. Crowley hadn’t actually managed to get more than a few pages in before his mind slid off it like… something that water slid off.

He rubbed his eyes. Then his temple again. Then he kicked back in his throne and threw his aching legs up on the desk, sighed, and stared at the ceiling.

Maybe it was all the head injuries. Or all the torture. Or just all the constant fear, dread, and trauma in general.

No matter the cause, it had started off as a mild tendency to get easily distracted, and eventually transformed into a frequent fogginess. Now, he couldn’t even find a form of distraction that he could focus on.

He gestured the telly on and stared blankly at it for a while. Then he tried not staring at it, and only listening. Next, he tried reorganizing his desk drawers while listening.

Didn’t matter. His attention immediately slid right off it, no matter what.

Snarling with annoyance, he snapped the telly back off, shoved out of his throne, and paced the flat. Could try lecturing his plants again, but that had only worsened the pounding headache when he did it earlier. Going for a drive presented the same issue. Plus, in his current foggy state, he’d probably drive right into a bus.

This state would be fine if he didn’t mind sitting around and staring at a wall all day. But unfortunately, even with the total inability to focus on anything, he was still bored.

Crowley let out another snarl, then tugged his mobile out of his pocket. He dialed, desperately trying to hold onto what he wanted to say. Hi, angel, are you busy? Thought I might drop by the shop. Hi, angel, are you—

The phone picked up. “Hello, I’m afraid the shop will be closing soon.”

“Busy?” Crowley blurted, then winced. Shit. That wasn’t what he’d planned to say.

“Oh! Hello, Crowley. No, I’m just doing a spot of reading. Just busy for customers, not you.” Aziraphale paused, as if waiting for him to reply.

He should reply. Shitshitshit, what had he been planning to say? Hi, angel, are—

“Crowley?” Aziraphale prompted.

The interruption shattered Crowley’s fragile attempt to cobble together a sentence. “Er. Hi.”

“Hello.” Now Aziraphale was starting to sound worried. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Just, uh. Whoosh.” Crowley winced again. “Sorry, er. Can I come over?”

“Have you been hit over the head again?”

Crowley massaged his temple. “Not currently, but I feel like I have. Thought I might, uh. Drop by the shop.”

There. That was it.

After reassuring Aziraphale that yes, he could safely drive, Crowley set off. He pulled into the street and accidentally hit the brake instead of the accelerator. The Bentley screeched to a halt and rumbled disapprovingly at him.

“Er.” He patted the steering wheel. “You drive.”

The Bentley drove, and Crowley stared vaguely at the cars rushing past. Even with his dark glasses on, the sunlight hurt. Maybe he should have just gone to bed. Probably would have been smarter, but also depressing.

When he pulled up outside the shop, Aziraphale was on the pavement waiting. Aziraphale rushed across the street and opened his door. “Oh, thank goodness you’ve made it. I worry about your driving on a good day, let alone when you don’t feel well.”

“M’ fine,” Crowley grumbled as Aziraphale took his hand and pulled him out of the car. “Just… foggy.”

“Mm. Well, it’ll be much safer for you to be foggy inside my shop.”

Crowley hissed softly in agreement, which was about all he could manage right now. The idea of forming sentences gave him a headache. Well, more of a headache.

A steady stream of chatter came from Aziraphale as he steered Crowley to the sofa, got him tea, covered his lap with a blanket. Crowley looked down in confusion at the blanket. It wasn’t actually cold today at all. Maybe Aziraphale thought it would be soothing.

“—going on, so don’t worry.”

Shit. He’d completely and utterly lost whatever Aziraphale had been saying. “Wot?”

“I said, I don’t have anything special going on.” Aziraphale repeated himself kindly, without frustration. “So don’t worry. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”

“Oh. Right, thanks.” Bleary, Crowley accepted the tea when Aziraphale nudged it against his fingers. “Sorry. I was getting bored at the flat, really wanted a distraction from feeling like shit, but I really just… keep losing track of things.”

“That’s quite all right, my dear.” Still with that kind smile, Aziraphale sat and took his free hand in a steady grasp. “I shall keep you entertained as best I can. And if you wander off, so to speak, I’ll help you find your way back.”

Crowley smiled, anchored by the warm hand curled around his. He still couldn’t focus, could already feel his mind sliding off into the fog again. But Aziraphale’s company would keep him from getting lost.

[ladylooch]

Jealous!Timo

Loud rap music bumps from the speakers at MetLift stadium as the group of Devils players and their significant other heads to the field for warm ups. It’s a warm fall day on the East Coast and a perfect day for outdoor football. A nice breeze blows through the stadium as the turf crunches beneath my sandals. We all gather along the yellow rope, staying off the field as various drills are ran. I’ve never paid much attention to American football, but free drinks and my husband will get me just about anywhere. T may be an 8 figure millionaire, but some free things never stop being exciting. 

lil smutty below the cut

Timo is in front of me, walking beside Nico. He glances back to make sure I’m still there, reaching his hand out. I put my hand in his, letting him lead us to a spot he wants to stand on the field. He stays with me for a bit, then one of the Jets players calls to him to play catch. I stay in my spot, soaking up the nice rays of sunshine hitting my face. 

My peace is short lived.

A ball comes flying towards me. I panic for a moment, walking backwards and trying to figure out what side it’s going to. But it’s a wobbly and weird ball that I can’t quite read. One of the Jets players snatches it out of the air with his gloved hand.

“Ooo, watch out beautiful. Don’t want anything happening to that gorgeous face.” I laugh nervously, clutching my necklace. Dang, that was close.

“Thank you for saving me. My face is grateful.” I run my hand through my hair. I glance at Timo who sees I’m fine and keeps conversing with the other Jets player. Nico has joined in too. 

“Can I have your number?” He asks, holding out the football to me and a sharpie he pulled from seemingly nowhere. I’m speechless for a moment, eyes wide behind my Dior sunglasses. 

“Ah, no. I’m married.” I say, cheeks dusting pink. I bring my expensive rings up for him to see. 

“Damn. To one of them?” He points to where the team is.

“Yep. 96.”

“Oh shit, Timo Meier! You getting that good hockey money.” 

“Sure.” I laugh.

“Well, how about I give you mine.” He scribbled it onto the football, then hands it to me. “He fucks up, call me.” I don’t really know what to do, but I take the football for fear of being rude. I cringe, looking over at Timo coming towards me. His eyebrows are pulled tightly together in a scowl.

“Did that guy give you his number?”

“Ah, yeah.” I cringed, then smile down at the ball because damn it I still got it. And I’m totally okay with Timo knowing that.

“Why is this happening when I’m standing right here. I’m gonna go kick his ass.” No, he isn’t. Not in such a public setting but he is probably voodoo hexing him internally.

“Guess you don’t look like you’re with me.” I don’t really care that Timo hasn’t been next to me, but I like edging him on. He coasts his hands around my hips, dipping his hands to my ass and lifting me into his arms. I wrap my legs around him, ankles crossed. I push my sunglass up, moving his up too so we can look at each other. Timo is unhappy. 

“Why do you still insist on pissing me off?” He asks, pressing his fingerprints harder into my ass.

I’m paying for this later.

“Cause it’s so easy. You get so jealous, still.”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Mine.” I shrug, taking the blame for the years of running and pushing him away when all he wanted was for us to be together.

“You don’t seem very sorry.”

“I’m not.”

“You will be later.”

“Doubt it.”

“Emma.” His warning spreads wildfire across my skin. He drops me down. I turn back to the field to keep watching warm ups. Timo presses me against his front and I can feel how hard he is. I bite the inside of my cheek as his mouth comes to my ear, hot breath tickling the baby hairs around my sunglasses. “Keep it up and I’m going to leave a permanent print of my hand on your ass.” One of his hands comes to my stomach, gliding across my bare skin below my belly button. My breasts get heavy and I press my butt back into him as deep as it will go without making a scene. Timo moans quietly into my ear. “You’re going to be worth the wait. You always are, baby.” 

His lips on my temple make me grip his hand on my stomach.