#and he was blowing his nose all in the kitchen and over the stove

[ivy-creates]

guess who got covid??

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗕𝗔𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗕𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗗, 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗙 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗠𝗨𝗧𝗘

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N participates in the Baking Blind, Deaf and Mute video, but things don't go as planned.

WARNING: Begin of a panic attack, anxiety.

REQUESTED?: Yes, @ecliphttlunar

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻��༺　༻✦༺

"Alright guys, it's been almost a year since the last time we filmed one of these, I think..." Nick began, his body appearing in the camera frame, stopping next to Matt.

"Yeah, and today we have a special guest-" Matt was interrupted by Nick, who swallowed all the rest of his energy drink, stumbling back as he shook his head hard, feeling the burn go down his throat.

"Like she doesn't appear in almost every video." Chris ignored Nick's reaction, momentarily pointing to his girlfriend next to him.

A laugh escaped his throat, followed by a dramatic sound of pain as he received a slap from Y/N as a response, who rolled her eyes at him, crossing her arms and looking at the camera.

"They love me more than they love you guys at this point." She murmured, pointing at the camera with her chin, blowing an air kiss towards it.

"Anyways!" Nick shouted, casting a scolding glance from the corner of his eye at Chris and Y/N, focusing his eyes on the lens. "Today we're going to do the baking blind, deaf and mute challenge, and we have a guest with us, Y/N!" He raised his left hand, pointing it towards the girl momentarily, who smiled big and waved.

"Exactly, and since there will be four of us, instead of three, we will repeat one position. Y/N will be blind with Matt, while I will be mute and Nick will be deaf." Chris explained, wrapping his left arm around his girl's shoulder, pulling her close and massaging her biceps slightly, sealing his lips over her head momentarily.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Okay, today we're going to cook a carrot cake with chocolate frosting since it's our guest's favorite." Nick spoke, his voice coming out louder than normal since his ears were covered by the headphones where music was coming out at full volume.

Y/N nodded, resting her hands on the table, unable to see exactly where she was, her eyes already covered by Chris's red bandana.

"Y/N doesn't eat ready cake mixture, so we're going to make it from scratch!" Matt added, his back resting on the counter next to the stove.

His arms were crossed, and his head was turned in the direction he thought the camera was.

"Let's begin!"

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Can someone preheat the oven, please?" Y/N asked, her head turned to the side where she heard footsteps.

A tired sigh escaped her nose when she received no response. The girl moved slowly, using her raised arms for support, feeling wherever she went.

Sudden hands on her waist made her jump in fright, relief coursing through her veins as she quickly recognized Chris's touch. The boy holds her tightly, guiding her slowly through the kitchen, until they reach the stove.

Chris lightly held her wrist, guiding her hand to the button to turn on the oven, waiting for her to do so before letting go of her hand, moving away slightly.

"What is happening? Are you still here?" Matt's voice cut through the air, his figure doing a 360° turn as he tried to understand where the others were.

"In here, Matt." Y/N replied as she walked back to the table, feeling around until she found the ingredients already separated.

The girl reached for the carrots, feeling them to check if they were peeled. They weren't.

"Chris, can you peel it for me, please?" The girl asked loudly, lifting her chin in the air so her voice could echo better.

Footsteps approached, and soon, the carrots were taken from her hands, the sound of a knife hitting the cutting board filling her ears.

The sound of screams filled the kitchen, Nick singing the songs he was listening to as loud as possible, probably dancing around the space, checking every now and then if the others were making the recipe correctly, despite Y/N and Chris knowing it by heart.

"Nick, can you shut up?" Matt asked loudly, turning in the direction where his brother's voice came from.

Nick noticed Matt trying to talk to him, looking back while furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"What?" He screamed.

Y/N, who was blindly measuring the correct amount of oil using a measuring cup, jumped in place in fright by the sudden loud sound. Her hand holding the oil shook slightly from the movement, spilling some of the contents onto her other hand and the table.

Her shoulders slumped, but she just kept going, knowing that there was nothing she could do at that moment other than fulfill her task.

After measuring the oil and flour as correctly as possible, the girl felt the table on her right side in search of the cut carrots, no longer feeling Chris' presence there.

Her hands ran across the wooden surface, grabbing the first thing she found in the belief that it was the vegetables, but instead, it was a knife.

A wince escaped her lips, feeling a sharp burning sensation spread from her right index finger to her hand. She had cut herself.

"Can I have a paper towel?" Y/N asked in a low tone, her voice coming out choppy from the pain she felt. "Hey, somebody, a paper towel. Please?"

No one answered her, Matt and Nick's arguing voices only growing louder and louder.

The girl took a deep breath, wiping her finger on her t-shirt, feeling pain and disgust at the same time at the thought of cleaning a wound on a fabric that wasn't as clean as something specific for hygiene.

Her attention returned to the things in front of herself. Y/N replayed her last steps in her mind, making sure she did everything right.

With that, her hand rescued the fuê that she knew was on her left side and began to mix all the ingredients in the ceramic bowl carefully, despite the pain in her hand.

She felt her senses were more heightened than normal, perhaps because her eyes were covered, which made her hear the different steps of each of the triplets, their voices, and in which direction they were going.

But at that moment, her attention was so focused on the mixture that she forgot to pay attention to the three boys.

"Matt, I'm not listening to anything you're saying!" Nick shouted, his tone full of sarcasm.

"I'm just asking you to stop-"

"Don't touch me, Chris!"

"Nick, stop doing that-"

"Stop talking, I can't hear you-"

The impact came suddenly against Y/N's back, causing her to hit her belly on the corner of the table and, consequently, pushing the mixture forward due to the impact. She was certain that everything had been spilled onto the wooden surface when she heard a loud gasp coming from Matt.

Y/N's lips trembled before the tears even came. She felt her eyes burning behind her bandana while her cheeks and chest ached with anguish.

"Y/N?" Chris's voice came out softly, his hands quickly ripping the bandana from his mouth, approaching his girl, ignoring the guilty looks from Nick and Matt as they both removed their respective bandana and headphones.

Y/N didn't respond, resting her hands on the table and lowering her head, feeling the fabric over her eyes getting damp little by little.

"Baby?" Chris whispered, slowly untying the knot on the bandana behind her head, being careful not to pull out any hair. The last thing he wanted was to cause pain on his girlfriend.

He felt his heart sink at the sight of her eyes closed tightly and her eyelashes damp against her pink cheeks. His own eyes quickly caught her chest rising and falling faster than normal in agitation.

Chris moved closer to her, positioning his hands on both of his girl's hips, lightly squeezing the covered skin in an attempt to ground her.

"Hey, hey, pretty girl, it's okay. Deep breaths, hm?" The brunette whispered close to her ear, casting a quick look behind his shoulder at his brothers, silently asking them to move away. "That's right, just like that. You got it, my love."

Y/N sucked in air through her nose, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it through her mouth.

After repeating the process a few times, she could finally feel her heart calm down and the anguish slowly disappear. Y/N opened her eyes slowly, blinking a few times to remove the remnants of tears.

"There's my pretty girl. Are you with me, baby?" Chris smiled kindly, his eyes shining as he looked at Y/N, waiting for her answer.

"Uhum, I am good. Thank you, baby." Her voice came out still a whisper, but in a healthier tone. "Can we continue? I really want to-"

"Wait, is that blood? Baby, are you hurt?" Chris noticed the reddish tone on her right hand, interrupting her sentence and holding her hand delicately with both of his, analyzing the small cut.

"Yeah, with that knife. It was an accident, but it's not hurting anymore." The girl tried to assure him, stroking his hands with her thumb slowly.

"Can we at least clean it? Before we continue." He asked, his tone full of hope while his eyes run through her face, trying to find any trace of pain.

"Okay." Y/N nodded, whispering with a small smile decorating her face.

The boy guided her to the sink, turning on the tap to cold water and slowly bringing her hand closer to the jet, letting the water hit the injured skin slowly, so that it didn't make her feel any more pain.

A wince escaped Y/N's throat when she felt the contact, suppressing the urge to pull her hand back.

"I know, baby. I know, I'm sorry." Chris whispered, his lips pressed against the side of her head. His free hand made small circles on her back, trying to reflect calm to her.

After a few seconds, Chris finally turned off the tap again, drying his own hand before rescuing a few sheets of paper towels. He wiped Y/N's sensitive skin slowly, wrapping her finger around a clean sheet.

"All done, honey."

"Thank you." She smiled, sealing her lips on his jaw slightly. "Can we bake now?" She asked innocently, looking at Matt and Nick, who were still watching them with guilty eyes.

Chris let out a low chuckle at her comment, waving his brothers closer again.

"Are you good, girl?" Nick asked as he approached Y/N, stroking her left shoulder lightly, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I am good, Nick. I promise." She smiled big at her best friend, hugging him sideways and laying her head on his right shoulder for a few seconds before stepping away again.

"Okay then, let's bake a cake!" Matt smiled at the camera, grabbing the nearest roll of paper towels, ready to clean up the mess before they could start baking again.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

extra - comments:

"omg I would die on Y/N's place, all this was so overwhelming 😭"

"chris is such a good boyfriend and you can see it in here, the way he helps her at the beginning? bf goals 😫😫😫"

"chris and Y/N are so beautiful together 🥺"

"the way chris was super worried about Y/N so he ripped off his bandana too quickly to help her 😔😔😔"

"I want what they have so bad"

"nick and matt feeling guilty and then worrying about her was so cute!!"

"them baking it from the beginning again only because Y/N wanted to eat that cake is so thoughtful 😭"

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[eomayas]

chasing pavements • hjs

pairing: husband!joshua x wife!reader, parent au

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

synopsis: just reader and joshua being parents

warnings: parental woes, arguments, past childhood trauma, girl-dad!joshua, their child is nameless and is called ‘baby’

a/n: the people asked for dad!shua but nobody said which kind…🤭 anyway this was v random and is very parent-y so beware!

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

sighing out a deep breath, you open your eyes and try to make your voice as gentle and even as possible. “i’ve asked you to clean up your mess three times now, baby. i’m not going to ask you again,” you stop stirring the spoon in the pot to look over your shoulder at her. she’s busy dragging her crayons over a coloring page, not bothering to look up at you.

“but im not done!” she whines, bottoms lip jutting out with the beginnings of a tantrum. you tense and and blink a few times as she just whines, tiny hand holding the crayon tightly in her hand. she’s not even coloring inside of the lines, just streaking the colors over the sheet haphazardly.

“dinner is almost ready. clean it up,” you voice is stern, tension in your tone rising as well as in your posture. you grip the ladle tightly in your fist, your other hand braced against the kitchen counter. “if i have to ask you again, then-“ the consequence dies on your tongue at the sound of the lock clicking and the front door opening. she gasps and shoots up from the table, loose crayons scattering across the wood floors.

“papa!” she shouts, running down the hall to greet joshua. you close your eyes and push out a breath from your nose. your jaw is tight as you turn back to face the stove. “look at what i got from school today! oh, and you missed seeing soobin today!”

“yeah? what is it?” he’s pressing a kiss to her cheek as he enters the kitchen, making her giggle when he blows raspberry against her skin. joshua sets her down so she can run to her backpack. “hey, baby.” he says, a hand sliding around to your hip and his lips pressing against your jaw in a greeting.

“hey,” you shrug him off of you and turn the burner down to low heat. “uh-uh, you can show daddy after dinner. go clean up,” you say, stopping her short when she comes back with a paper from school clutched in her hands.

that bottom lip juts out again and her eyes dart over to joshua for help. it only frustrates you more, because all three of you know that she has him in her palm. “well- joshua, stop.” you bark, throwing your arm out to the side to push against his abdomen. “go clean up the table so we can eat dinner.” her eyes well up with tears, and you feel like the biggest asshole in the world for making her cry. you remember a brief moment of yourself as a child and being scared each time your father asked you to do something. he never had to ask you or your siblings more than once—you all found out the hard way—and worry that you’re doing the same thing to her.

she huffs and spins around, her walk mopey as she puts her paper back into her bag and starts to slowly pick up the crayons. you feel joshua start, his hand gently pushing yours away as he makes his way over to her. “i’ll help you, princess,” he says and you grit your teeth.

“joshua, stop! i’ve asked her six times now, she needs to listen!” you’re on the brink of snapping, another word out of him or her is very likely to send you over the edge. it’s rough. the day was shitty from the jump, but you didn’t think it would be this bad by the end.

you expect joshua to at least have your back when you put a number on it, he looks over at you before glancing down at your daughter with sad eyes. “y/n, she’s just a baby.”

“goddamnit, joshua! let me do this!”

and then the dam breaks. her wail ripples through you like an electric current, setting off all of the alarms and signals that let you know your daughter is in trouble. except, you put her in this position, and now your heart has sunk to your stomach. joshua hurries to pick her up, cradling her against his chest and smoothing his hand over her hair. you stay rooted at your place by the stove, ignoring the sting in your nose and the newly formed lump in your throat. joshua shushes her softly like he used to when she was much smaller, but she just keeps wailing.

her cries slice through your heart and shred it to pieces. you want to walk over to her and hold her, tell her that you’re sorry, but you don’t think it’ll help. “baby- i’ve got it,” joshua cuts you off this time, cutting his eyes at you as he keeps trying to console her.

it only frustrates you more, and your anger is misplaced when you spit out, “deal with dinner, then. since you’ve got everything,” and storm out of the kitchen, your heels punctuating the end of the conversation. you fly up the stairs and into your bedroom, kicking off your shoes into your closet.

you stand there, in the middle of the walk-in, with your hands on your hips as you take in deep, shuddering breaths. your vision blurs with tears that you don’t let fall, instead blinking them away as you try to regain control over your breathing. her crying face swims through your mind and you almost forget why you’re so upset. almost. but unlucky for her, you’re not as easily swayed like joshua is.

grabbing a sweatshirt and a pair of pants off of their hangers, you quickly undress from your work outfit, and pull onto the much more comfortable clothes. you shove your feet into a pair of sneakers and push out a breath. her cries echo through the house, and you wince at her gasping breaths. it’s muffled, but you can hear joshua trying to calm her down, though whatever he says makes her let out a piercing wail that makes you flinch. it all feels too much; your guilt, her crying, your frustration at the both of them for different things.

you slip out of the bedroom and move as quickly and quietly as you can down the stairs. you force your eyes away from the kitchen and grab your purse off of the accent table in the foyer, and leave the house without a word.

i’m just like my father.

the thought rang through your head the the moment you pulled out of your neighborhood. it almost brought you to tears, but you managed to keep them in again. and you almost turned back, but couldn’t. you have the harrowing realization that the more you fought to be better than him, you ended up a mirror. it makes your stomach flip and turn, but yet you still don’t turn around.

time is a flat circle.

there’s not a place you’re heading for. you’ve just been driving on the back roads for nearly two hours. the sun set a long time ago, and now the sky is dark and unwelcoming. you should go him, you know it, but facing your husband isn’t something you feel up for at the moment.

turning into a dimly lit convenience store parking lot, you pull into a space and out your car in park. you sigh and lean back against the headrest, shutting your eyes and reminding yourself to breathe. you visualize a square and practice the breathing exercise your therapist taught you. in for four, out for four, her voice echoes through your head. it calms down the storm brewing inside of you and brings you back down. that voice in the back of your head, the one telling you that you’re just like your own dad, gets a little quieter.

your phone buzzes in the cup holder, and you pick it up.

joshua: you don’t have to tell me where you are, just lmk that you’re ok.

you: i’m okay.

you gnaw on your bottom lip, deciding that it’s time to go home. it’s past your daughters bedtime now, and you can guarantee that she’s already tucked in and asleep. at least you won’t have to deal with the both of them tonight.

on your way home, you pass a donut shop that is surprisingly open. you stop and quickly run in. the pastries surprisingly look fresh for 8pm, and order half a dozen of your daughters favorite (chocolate with sprinkles, and maple), before heading to the car to make your way home.

the stress of the day starts to weigh on you halfway home. the morning started out rough; joshua had to go into work early, so taking your daughter was your duty. from the moment you woke her up, she was in meltdown mode. you take the blame for rushing a seven year old, but you let her have juice in her lunch instead of the usual water, so you figured that it evened everything out. but then you were late from picking her up from the after school program she sometimes goes to if neither you nor joshua can pick her up, and she whined about it the whole way home. never mind the fact that your workday was filled with hour-long, unnecessary meetings.

you yawn as you pull into your neighborhood and up to your driveway. you stall in the car for a moment, looking at the dark house in front of you, save for the bright porch light. there’s a chance that joshua has gone to bed, but in your heart of hearts you know that he’s waiting up for you. deciding to just deal with your life, you grab the box of donuts and your belongings, and get out of the car.

you quietly make you way into the house, lightly shutting the front door and locking it behind you. just the sight of the kitchen makes you tense, and when you walk in you’re met with a clean kitchen table and floor, no signs of there ever being a previous mess. you put the donuts away in the fridge to keep them fresh.

with a sigh, you exit the kitchen and start up tje stairs, footsteps light just in case the stairs creak. you step into your bedroom with a quiet sigh, and shut the door. the light from the en suite bathroom shines through the cracked door, and you can hear joshua in there. grabbing some pajamas, you pull on a tshirt just as joshua comes into the room. “hey,” he says, voice soft.

“hi,” you tug the shirt over your head and toss your other clothing items into the hamper. he lingers near the bathroom door with his arms crossed over his chest, watching you as you make yourself busy with little things.

“we need to talk about earlier,” joshua says. you don’t look up at him as you apply hand cream.

you take a moment before responding. “okay,” you breathe out, roughly massaging the lotion into your skin. you hear joshua shuffle on the other side of the room.

“you can’t yell at her like that,” joshua says gently. you sit up and stare across the room at a family photo, blinking a few times.

“i know. but i asked her six times to do something, and she still didn’t even do it. you need to let me discipline her,” you say, finally looking over at him. he uncrosses his arms to run a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh as he does.

“she’s just a baby.”

“she’s seven.”

“she’s a little girl, honey,” joshua says, like that changes anything. you two are usually on the same page when it comes to disciplining her, though she doesn’t really get disciplined because she’s an good kid. you thought he’d understand your frustration today, but he doesn’t and you feel like your back is against the wall.

the fight in you is gone, though a flicker or your earlier anger lights inside of you upon hearing him talk. “okay, and i shouldn’t have to tell her to do something six times. she should just do it the first time,” you say, looking at him pointedly. he pokes his tongue in his cheek, and you know he doesn’t agree with you and is holding back whatever he wants to say. “and, i don’t need you to step in when im trying to teach her something. you need to let me parent her.”

“are you implying that i don’t parent her?” he asks, head tilting to the side. you squeeze your eyes shut and swallow the frustrated groan at the back of your throat.

“i’m not implying anything. im telling you that you need to let me teach her things, without interrupting me. because she’s going to think that she can get out of everything if she looks at you,” you say. joshua purses his lips and looks down at his feet, nodding slowly. “you have to stop babying her, joshua.”

asking him to do that is like asking him to recolor the sky: it’s impossible. one look at her and his entire backbone shatters. it’s sweet sometimes, until you need him to enforce some rules.

“fine, alright? but you can’t yell at her like that. you heard how she cried afterwards,” he says, his voice less gentle than before. you blink at him and drag a hand down your face. you’re ready to put this conversation to bed—nothing feels like it’s going to get resolved tonight. “she was scared, baby. remember that night when i met your dad? she had that same look on her face.” your stomach drops at the memory.

the first time you let joshua meet your dad was also the last time he saw him, until your daughter was born. you were in college, and had only been dating joshua for a few months, but you felt so sure about him. he was the first person you felt so sure about, and it scared you, but you felt like in order for joshua to understand you and to love you, he had to meet your dad. he’d met everybody else in your family, but you were putting off him meeting your dad because of how your father is. the night started out fine, everybody was generally getting along with each other and joshua was fitting in. you were on edge, worried that something would happen so much so that you weren’t able to relax. you were running around trying to help your mom with the kitchen, be a good host to joshua, and avoid pissing off your dad.

and then it happened. you can hardly recall the reason now, since you’ve really tried to block it out of your memory, but you forgot a dish, or burned something that he wanted in particular, and he flipped out. you were in your twenties, so you didn’t have a problem standing up for yourself at that point. but because your new boyfriend was there, and it was humiliating that he was yelling at you like that in front of company, all you could do was cry. you begged him to stop with tears streaming down your face, begged him not to say things in front of joshua. he ignored your pleas as they only made him explode. joshua tried standing up for you, but your dad yelled at him too, claimed joshua was ‘disrespecting’ him, and told him to get out.

joshua left but took you with him. he kissed your mom and siblings goodbye, and whisked you out of the house. you were so embarrassed that you could hardly talk through the tears. you expected joshua to break up with you after that, and managed to ask if he was going to leave you. he stayed and proposed to you five months later, and you quietly eloped together, only a few of your friends knowing about it.

“i’m not like him,” you say, throat closing. joshua’s face falls and his features soften as your eyes well up with tears, already moving to walk over to you.

“no, you’re not,” he clarifies, sitting next to you on the bed and pulling you into his chest. you press your fists into your eyes and try to control your breathing while he softly rubs your back. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to upset you.” joshua whispers, kissing your head as you tremble in his arms. he keeps his lips pressed to your hair and lets you fight the tears, never once letting go of you.

your eyes ache from pressing against them and you pull your hands away, sniffing and trying to pull yourself away from him. joshua only holds onto you tighter which makes your eyes well up again, and you can’t believe you’ve been brought to tears more times tonight than in the year so far. “i left,” you mumble weakly.

“you came back.”

“but i left.”

joshua pulls back enough to look down at you. you look up at him with sad eyes and he lets go of you to wipe your face. “and you came back. you’re nothing like him, baby. you’re a good mom, a good wife, and you care. you left, but you came back. water under the bridge,” he says, pushing your hair out of your face. you blink tears away as he peers down at you before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“i love you. and im sorry,” you murmur, wiping under your eyes.

“i love you too, and we both have things to work on.”

you nod, and let him hold you until you eventually doze off, headache and all. you only wake up in the middle of the night because you’re uncomfortable, and move to your side of the bed. joshua still tugs you back into his chest and the two of you mange to stay that was until the morning.

when you wake, joshua is right behind you. he talks you down when you panic about facing your baby. “does she hate me?” you ask, wiping sleep out of your eyes.

“of course not,” he says, a small frown on his face. you want to tell him to wait until she’s a teenager, but he looks distraught enough at your question, so you just nod.

she’s asleep when you peek in her room, sprawled out on her small bed. you creep over quietly and kneel beside her, gently shaking her shoulder. she wakes up easily, stretching her short limbs before she opens her eyes. “mommy?” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes with a small yawn.

“hi, baby,” you say, smoothing a hand over her head. she looks up at you timidly, and your stomach knots. “did you sleep okay?” she nods and you give her a small smile. “mommy’s sorry, baby. i didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“it’s okay,” she says, sitting up. it’s not, but you’ll take her accepting your apology. “can i have a hug?” her voice is small, and makes you want to cry because she doesn’t have to ask you for that.

“of course, baby,” you say, wrapping yourself around her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. your hold her for awhile, until she starts to struggle against you. “i got you something.” you say once you loosen your hold around her. her eyes light up and you smile, scooping her up and heading downstairs.

you pull the box of donuts out of the fridge snd she gasps when you open the lid. you let her have a whole donut for breakfast, and promise her half of one after dinner. you apologize again, and she tells you that it’s okay again. one day, you’ll let her know that she can’t just say ‘it’s okay’ whenever somebody apologizes, but for now you let it be.

[crushmeeren]

♡ Master List Link

❥ Bakugou / Fem Reader / Todoroki

❥ Everyone involved in this is 18+/aged up.

Warnings; angst/comfort, cursing, vaginal sex, anal sex (double penetration), pussy eating, blow jobs, squirting

Note; This is my first time writing for this pairing and I’ve wanted to for so long.

It’s normal when you and Katsuki argue. It’s normal when Shouto and Katsuki argue. What isn’t normal, are the fights you and Shouto get into.

It only occurs once in a while, but when it does — you end the night miserably with a lump in your throat and an icy chill that shreds and rearranges your stomach.

Unfortunately, despite doing your damndest to avoid arguing with Shouto, this past week has had you itching to chew him out.

Shouto’s assured you and Katsuki at least three times this week that he was going to be home from work to eat dinner with you. Yet each time he’s shown up so late that Katsuki has put the leftovers in the fridge and you two went to sleep.

And this is not even remotely the first time you’ve dealt with this.

It’s not as if you don’t all understand that being a hero will never be a job where you have the privilege of scheduled hours. Shit happens, and it happens often. And Shouto’s not the only one who gets the short end of the stick.

This wouldn’t even get under your skin so badly if he at least could’ve let either of you know he wasn’t going to make it. He hasn’t even done that. He’s been letting his phone die and not bothering to charge it.

“Pick up the fucking phone, Shouto.” You know you have a bitchy attitude, but you’re speaking to his voicemail again.

You exhale a drawn out sigh through your nose and shift in place to unstick your thighs from the leather material of the bar stool you’re currently occupying.

Your kitchen smells amazing because of Katsuki’s cooking and you get even more pissed about all the effort the blonde is putting into this just for Shouto to disregard it.

You set your phone down too harshly, not realizing until you hear an ominous crack of glass that makes you wince. Gingerly you pick it back up and only notice a few hairline cracks, thank god.

“I’m not buying you another new fucking phone,” Katsuki pipes up, sounding much too amused from where he’s stirring something at the stove.

You glare at his back, scoffing in response.

“Well if a certain someone would answer their damn phone I wouldn’t be breaking this one!”

Katsuki is aware of how upset this situation has been making you. He’s been encouraging you not to worry about it because “Shouto has always been an air-headed idiot.” You chastise the blonde when he makes those remarks but you somewhat agree.

He’s so intelligent when it comes to hero work, but relationships have always been….. alien to him.

“So strawberry shortcake’s blowing us off again?” Katsuki asks with no small amount of annoyance.

Your gaze flickers to the blonde’s broad back, studying the way his muscles roll and flex along the edges of his black tank top as he stirs fried rice.

Your brows pull together, scowling as you drum your fingers on the counter top.

“I guess so,” you murmur, sounding and feeling defeated. The sting in your eyes that signals oncoming tears is no surprise. Shouto’s recent behavior has been weighing heavily on your heart. You sniffle as quietly as you can.

Does he even want to be with us anymore?? Does he love me?

You realize you may be overreacting but you can’t help it.

Katsuki has got to be a mind reader — or he most likely heard you sniffling. His palms start crackling as he notices you’re about to cry. He pauses, turning the stove off just to be cautious, and wipes the sweat from his hands on his sweatpants.

He pivots in place and strides over to you with a scowl on his face, taking in the steady stream of tears rolling down your flushed cheeks.

“Look at me, idiot,” he says affectionately, crossing his arms over his chest as he comes to a stop. You stubbornly refuse to turn your chair his direction.

He makes a frustrated noise and grips the back of your chair, physically swiveling you to face him. He steps in between your thighs and you tilt your head downwards, still refusing to meet his gaze. You obnoxiously sniffle. Katsuki scoffs, reaching a hand out to grip your chin.

His thumb and pointer fingers cradle your chin, gently guiding your head up. His sharp expression softens as scarlet eyes flit across your face, taking in how heartbroken you truly look.

A new wave of tears track down your cheeks, a small sob escaping and shaking your shoulders.

“I — I just don’t understand Kat. Why doesn’t Shouto want to come home?” You cry, voice cracking pitifully. You use the backs of his hands to wipe away the never ending tears.

Katsuki can’t stand seeing you this way. He wraps his arms around your head and shoves your face into his chest, smoothing a hand over your upper back in hopes of providing some sort of comfort.

Eagerly, you return his embrace. The warmth of his skin bleeding through the material of his tank top as it catches your sorrow.

“Baby,” he whispers lowly, soothingly. “Shouto‘s not doing this on purpose. I know you know that. His cocksucker of a father is working him to the bone.”

It does little to quell the ache in your chest even if he’s right.

You don’t respond, the build up of frustration and grief from the past couple weeks spilling out of you and onto Katsuki. He kisses the top of your head, resting his cheek there and allowing you to cry until you start to get lightheaded and empty.

Eventually your sobbing subsides and you release the death grip you had on your boyfriend’s shirt. He frees you as you lean backwards slightly, staring up at him with a pout. Your eyes are swollen and heavy, but you feel lighter.

Katsuki gives you a half smile, using his thumbs to tenderly wipe away the excess tears under your eyes.

“I’ll still kick his ass if you want,” Katsuki jokes halfheartedly. You laugh softly, the corners of your mouth tilting upwards involuntarily.

He grins fully at you, bending down to press your foreheads together. He places his big hands on your thighs and plants a chaste kiss on your lips.

You respond enthusiastically, sliding your hands up his chest and slipping them around his neck as your lips connect over and over.

He smiles into the kiss and tilts his head minutely, biting playfully on your bottom lip until you open up for him. The glide of his tongue against yours has arousal burning desperately in your lower belly.

You let out a breathy moan and Katsuki’s fingers tighten on your legs before he breaks the rapidly blazing kiss.

Your chest heaves as you catch your breath, catching a whiff of fried rice that reminds you Katsuki had been cooking. The blonde retreats to his full height.

“Kat,” you say reluctantly, grabbing his attention. “I’m not sure I can eat anything right now. I just want to go to bed.” You chew on your bottom lip, fiddling with your thumbs.

He frames your face with his hands, a smirk worming its way onto his mouth.

“Then let me take your ass to bed so you can be my pillow princess for the night,” he says confidently, winking when your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

A pleasant flush travels through your entire body, cheeks feverish as you let out a startled laugh.

Once you nod in agreement Katsuki slips his hands under your thighs and hefts you up out of your seat. You laugh brightly, embracing his waist with your legs and holding onto his neck.

Within a few moments Katsuki’s got you both naked and he’s slipping under the sheets of your bed. Your legs part for him easily, tugging him up and over you until he fits like a puzzle.

When his cock pushes inside of you it’s everything you weren’t aware you needed that night. He rolls his hips sweet and slow until your spine’s bowing off the mattress and you’re crying out his name, being sure to leave scratches on his back.

Later on Katsuki ventures back to the kitchen to put away the food from earlier. He decides he’s going to wait for the dumbass and give him a piece of his mind when he returns home.

Katsuki waits…and waits until he’s sitting up straight and nodding off on the couch.

He uses his fists to rub his eyes and checks the time on his phone only to see that it’s past midnight. Katsuki’s temper flares and he swiftly has to remove his hands from the couch cushions for fear of blasting it to smithereens.

He leaves Shouto a colorful message on a sticky note and promptly goes back to the warmth of the bed and snuggles into your chest until he passes out.

It’s after 1:00 am when a chilly arm circles your waist and tugs you back into a toned chest. Your brain is sluggish in your barely there consciousness but you’re able to recognize that it’s Shouto’s presence behind you. Katsuki’s on your other side, leaving you in the middle.

It’s become somewhat of a habit between the three of you to welcome each other with a few kisses when someone arrives home late. So when you don’t flip over you’re sure Shouto’s confused.

Your chest hurts when you think about facing your boyfriend. Ignoring him is probably hurting him, yet you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.

When it’s clear that you won’t be speaking to him as you pull the blanket up over your shoulder, Shouto tightens his arm and tickles the nape of your neck with a soft exhale.

You don’t speak to Shouto for about two days. The man tries to talk to you, truly he does, but you keep him at arms length.

The first night you return home from patrol, battered and bruised with a headache from hell as you stumble in the front door.

You’d been messaging Katsuki throughout the day, the blonde hero keeping you up to date on Shouto.

He did fail to mention they must’ve had their own argument about the situation, if the recently acquired burn marks on the wall have anything to say about it.

When you make it to your bedroom, it seems they must’ve made up. They’re entangled and naked in the sheets so that solves that mystery. The soft light from the bathroom night illuminates them enough that you can see Shouto’s head pillowed on his chest.

Your stomach drops at the sight, the dull ache of betrayal surprising you as it tries to carve a hole in your chest.

At any other time, you’d love seeing them together. However you and Shouto are still caught up in this ridiculous fight that seems to be more one sided than anything.

With a quiet groan you move into the bathroom, stripping off your filthy clothing and stepping into the shower.

You stand under the scalding water and scrub off the layer of grime you picked up during your shift. As you run the wash cloth over your skin you imagine you’re chipping at the depressing emotions you’re riddled with as well, willing them to go down the drain.

Once you’ve managed to get clean and dressed in one of Katsuki’s oversized T-shirt’s, you find yourself standing unsettled at the edge of your bed. Staring as you contemplate what to do.

An uneasy sensation worms under your skin, lurking as you weigh the options of staying or not. Ultimately you decide to go sleep on the couch.

You make haste with quiet footsteps until Shouto murmurs something unintelligible in his sleep. Your pulse stutters as you still, waiting to see what he does.

He says nothing more and you release the breath you weren’t aware you were holding, sneaking out to the living room.

You settle in on the couch, curling up in a ball underneath multiple throw blankets. Your chest squeezes while you wrestle with your mind until you convince yourself you have to reconcile with Shouto tomorrow.

Shouto wakes the next morning sporting a gray cloud overhead when his alarm goes off. He’s staring intensely at Katsuki’s side profile, admiring how handsome he is. The breeze from the fan brushes over his back and his brows scrunch together in confusion at the absence of your body heat.

He rolls over, eyes widening as he begins to panic when he doesn’t see you there.

Shouto’s heart jumps to his throat as he tumbles out of bed, snagging the blanket around his ankle and jostling Katsuki awake as he goes.

“Oi, idiot! What the fuck are you doing?” Katsuki rasps at an ear splitting volume. He sits up ramrod straight and wears a furious scowl. His gaze narrows as it lands on Shouto who freezes under the heavy glare.

Shouto says your name, glancing at the door as he fidgets in place.

“Where is she? Why isn’t she in bed?” Shouto’s low voice asks, an anxious edge marring it.

Katsuki’s lip curls and his cheeks flush a rosy pink as he rises from the bed. It forces Shouto to take a step back in bewilderment as he’s met with the blonde’s rage.

“You idiot,” Katsuki snarls venomously, shoving a finger into his boyfriend’s chest. “She is here, but she’s sleeping on the couch. You’ve been fucking us off as if we mean nothing to you for the past two weeks and you wonder why she doesn’t want to be in the same bed as you?” Katsuki laughs meanly, pushing Shouto out of his pathway with a lone finger before moving to his dresser. “I thought you were smarter than that,” he sneers, chin raising defiantly.

“I didn’t —,”

Katsuki cuts Shouto off, the muscle in his jaw twitching as his fists curl.

“Don’t you even fucking dare say you didn’t mean to. I don’t give a shit. Fix it Shouto, or I’ll take you on in a fight you won’t win.”

He slams the door to their bathroom shut so hard the frame rattles.

Shouto sinks down onto the edge of the mattress as if Katsuki knocked his knees out from under him. He was too stunned to even get a word in edgewise.

Shouto… knew you were upset, but he wasn’t aware it was this bad.

He stands on wobbly legs, stomach rolling painfully as he robotically gets ready for his shift. He can’t recall the last time he felt so numb.

The second you hear Shouto leave is when you finally open your eyes. You had heard the pair fighting and pretended to be asleep, not wanting a blow out fight to erupt between the three of you.

You feel so guilty, hoping and praying Shouto doesn’t get distracted by this entire ordeal while he’s out on patrol.

This fight isn’t worth risking his life over.

You have to make up with him tonight, it’s gone on far too long.

Shouto’s one of your soulmates, and you’ve loved every second you’ve had the privilege of being a part of his life.

Your footsteps are quiet as you shuffle to your now deserted bed, flopping down and crawling under the covers to wait for Katsuki’s return.

It’s not too late into the evening when the front door finally opens. You’d been mentally preparing yourself for the conversation the three of you would be having tonight.

You’d been nervously biting your nails and lounging on the couch with your feet tucked under you while Katsuki was, to nobody’s surprise, cooking something once again.

You spring out of your seat as Shouto locks the front door, striding to stand a few feet in front of him with a sheepish smile.

His expressions brightens like the sun when he sees you and you don’t even try to stop the grin that tugs at your lips.

In the next moment he’s hugging you, burying his face into your neck as he lifts you off the floor by your waist. Relief unfurls warmly behind your rib cage as you return the affectionate embrace, securing your legs around his waist.

He smells clean as he always does, something similar to a note of cinnamon tickling your nose in the addictive cologne that he wears.

“I’m sorry,” Shouto whispers tenderly, shifting so his forehead rests against your temple when he speaks. He noses at your cheek when you nod, repeating the same phrase so he knows you are too.

“You fuckers just gonna stand here all night?” Katsuki complains with no real heat behind it. You didn’t even hear him approach. You laugh, unwinding yourself from Shouto as he places you back on your feet.

Katsuki’s standing with his hands on his hips, wearing a soft smile that makes him look five years younger.

You tease him and Shouto joins in until the blonde is blushing and cursing you both to hell.

After what feels like the longest conversation of your life, you find yourself on your knees and elbows between Katsuki’s spread thighs. Your ass is high in the air for Shouto who’s settled behind you.

Katsuki’s rock hard, propped up by a couple pillows. He strokes his cock leisurely, biting the tip of his tongue as he leers down at you. You wink up at him and he grins coyly.

Shouto grips your ass and spreads you open. The cool air on your pussy makes your breath hitch.

You moan lowly, nails sinking into Katsuki’s thighs and forehead coming to rest on the blonde’s belly when Shouto’s tongue flicks at your clit. Dragging it up through your lips and swirling it over your rim.

You push yourself up, bracing a hand on either side of Katsuki’s hips as Shouto teases your rim with a slick finger. The blonde smirks when your jaw drops.

“Look at you baby girl, all fucked out and Sho’s barely touched your pussy,” he coos meanly, fisting his cock a little faster.

You attempt to respond but Shouto’s a shit who chooses that exact moment to slide a finger in your ass all the way to his knuckle.

“Shouto,” you choke out. “Keep going, give me another finger,” you plead, rocking back towards him. Shouto obeys, pushing in a second finger with ease and you whine. Your head drops between your shoulders and it gives you the view of Katsuki’s cock twitching in his grip when you let out more noises.

Katsuki notices your stare.

“Yeah? Wanna suck on my cock baby?” Katsuki asks with a lilt to his voice as though he’s offering someone an irresistible treat, cradling your cheek with his free hand and rubbing under your eye with his thumb.

“I do,” you confirm with an eager nod. You bend down to do just that but Katsuki’s shakes his head with a tsk and halts you with a hand around your throat. You glance up at him confused. He ignores you and levels Shouto with a look.

“Whatcha think, Shouto? Should I let the princess suck me off till you stretch her out?”

Shouto keeps thrusting his fingers, scissoring them a bit as he hums in agreement.

“I think so, yes,” Shouto affirms, something playful in his tone.

Katsuki grins wolfishly at you, placing a hand on the back of your head and pushing until you open your mouth and swallow half the cock pointed up at you in one go. You moan at the feel of his thick shaft on your tongue, bobbing your head slowly and chasing Katsuki when his hips jerk upwards.

“Jesus Christ baby, you have a velvet mouth,” Katsuki praises, husky moans filling the air.

You let Katsuki distract you as Shouto slips a third finger inside your ass, placing his thumb on your clit and rubbing tight circles to balance out the pain and pleasure.

Only a couple minutes later and Katsuki is starting to fidget in place.

“Think you can deep throat me?” Katsuki pants, eyelids fluttering as he waits for your answer. You hum which is the best you can do to say yes, even if your jaw is aching.

The pressure on the back of your skull increases and you relax your throat as his tip pushes past the muscle. You panic only briefly when your airway is cutoff, but hearing the way Katsuki cries out with a high pitched moan as he fills out your throat is worth it. You squeeze your eyes shut as tears gather at your lash line.

“You’re so goddamn hot. Look at those pretty lips stretched so filthy around me. You love sucking cock don’t you?” Katsuki taunts, head tilting backwards with a breathy moan when you whine in response.

He keeps you choking on his dick with a firm hold for at least ten seconds. Until you’re starting to claw at his thighs, until you’re starting to resist, and then suddenly you’re being pulled off him. Your lungs burn, coughing and swallowing air as Shouto takes his fingers from you.

You’re spun around and sat on Katsuki’s lap faster than you can blink as the blonde sits up straighter, saliva covered cock sliding between your ass. Your eyes open wide as you meet Shouto’s yearning mismatched gaze and he gives you a half smile.

Katsuki bends his knees and plants his feet so you’re cradled in his lap, thrusting so his cock catches briefly on your rim before sliding upwards.

“I want you baby,” Shouto tells you sincerely, running his knuckles over your cheekbone. You grin adoringly at him in return, lids fluttering as Katsuki rolls his hips against you once more.

“Someone’s impatient,” you try to tease, but it comes out partially strangled. “I want you too Shouto.”

Katsuki snorts behind you, patting your ass to get you to rise up a bit. You do so automatically.

“Well fuck me then, right?” Katsuki teases as he grips his shaft and lines himself up with you. Shouto rolls his eyes playfully.

“Well she is about to sit on your cock,” Shouto deadpans. You try to cover a laugh by slapping a hand over your mouth.

“You’re a fucking comedian aren’t ya Sho?” Katsuki says with a strained voice as you start to sink down on him. You gasp loudly when he pushes past your tight, slick rim and he moans.

Shouto stays silent, keeping his eyes locked with yours while you take in the blonde’s cock until you’re sitting completely in his lap. It aches, a dull throb as you shift around to get comfortable. Desperate for the pain to go away you start to rise up and down on the cock splitting you open, bracing your weight on Katsuki’s knees.

Shouto squeezes the base of his shaft, twitching in his own grip because the sight of you riding Katsuki, tits bouncing inches from his face is making him want to cum. Now.

The blonde holds your hips, biceps flexing as he helps you move, impatiently working for the pleasure you know is near by. Soon enough, the pain starts to fade and a warm shiver takes it place at the base of your spine, slithering through your veins unabashedly.

You stare at Shouto with half lidded eyes, studying the way his skin flushes as he watches the two of you silently, fisting his cock teasingly. The other hero shuffles closer, leaning forward as you begin slowing to a crawling pace when he gets in your personal space. Katsuki, surprisingly, holds his tongue when you do.

Shouto kisses you then, slightly chapped lips meeting yours. You bring your arms up to play with the soft hair at the nape of his neck, scratching at his scalp and humming against his mouth.

When you can’t breathe any longer you break away, tongue poking out to run over your bottom lip. Shouto peers over your shoulder at Katsuki.

“Can I be inside her now?” He asks restlessly and you practically hear Katsuki’s eye roll.

“So fucking needy,” Katsuki mutters. “Lean back on my chest baby, I’m gonna cum if we stay like this anyways.”

You press one more kiss to Shouto’s mouth and recline until your back hits a solid, warm chest. Katsuki grips under your knees and pulls your thighs back towards you.

You steady yourself by hanging onto to the blonde’s forearms, biting your tongue when Shouto crawls forward. He settles on his knees, stroking his cock as he tilts his head and gawks at the place Katsuki disappears inside you. Gaze flickering over your pussy on display just for him.

“C’mon Shouto, what’re you waiting for?” You encourage him, the anticipation racing down your spine. You involuntarily clench around Katsuki and the blonde hisses when he speaks.

“God, Shouto hurry the fuck up.”

Shouto does hurry the fuck up.

He steadies his cock head against your pussy and begins a leisure press, sliding in in in until you’re completely filled.

They both allow you time to adjust, whispering praise and toe curling, filthy sweet nothings into your ears.

Katsuki is unable to move in his position underneath you both, so Shouto takes control. He helps the blonde support your thighs and essentially fucks you both with deliberate and brain melting thrusts until Katsuki cums first with a choked off cry of Shouto’s name.

Shouto tells him how pretty he is like that and the blonde buries his face in the back of your shoulder.

You’re quick to follow when Shouto curls his hips just right and then your pussy’s suffocating him. You’re scratching at his toned chest and arching your back, leaving angry red lines near his collarbone.

Shouto falls over the edge just knowing he pushed you both to your peak.

As you all soak in the hazy afterglow, you try to catch your breath, leaning your entire weight on Katsuki’s chest as Shouto gingerly pulls his cock out.

“Get the hell off me, my legs are falling asleep,” Katsuki complains playfully. You smack his thigh sharply in retaliation and he laughs.

“Fuck off, I’m going.” Delicately you sit up and rise off him, rolling to the side and flopping onto your stomach with a wariness about how sore you’ll be tomorrow.

You’re unsure what happens next, drifting off until you wake up later in the night clean and with an oversized shirt on again.

You recognize this one as Shouto’s.

Grinning to yourself you turn and check on both men to find them out like lights.

You settle back down between them right where you belong and sleep better than you have for weeks.

[kazuhaiku]

a day to remember

summary: sakura falls sick and you deem it your duty to take care of him until he feels better.

warnings: gn!reader, fluff, flustered sakura, kind of inspired by that chapter when sakura was sick but with a little twist :3

notes: sakura :(( i love him sm

sakura doesn’t remember the reason he got sick.

maybe it was because of the rain last night when he had to hurriedly take you home as it was raining cats and dogs, or maybe it was because he stayed up all night trying to figure out places to go with you.

a sneeze escapes from sakura, making him shudder. he grabs a tissue from the table and blows his nose before cuddling himself further into his futon. his place isn’t exactly the kind of place a person would want to live in, let alone a sick person.

“god,” sakura groans hating how he can’t exactly breathe out of his nose. “this is the worst.” he closes his eyes, attempting to get some sleep.

however, that is soon disturbed when someone knocks on his front door. sakura groans, mentally cursing whoever is outside for disturbing his rest. he slowly gets up, trying to prevent a headache from coming.

“what do you want-” sakura stops when he sees you standing in front of him, holding a plastic bag which seems to be filled with medicine and food. “y/n? wh-what are you doing here?”

“you never replied to my messages,” you reply with a small pout. “so i asked suo if he’s seen you today and he said that you’re sick.” you sigh, seeing his red nose. “why didn’t you tell me?”

sakura blinks. “um, it’s not important…”

“what do you mean ‘not important’? you’re my boyfriend, of course you’re important!” you exclaim, pushing past sakura to let yourself in. “wha- this place looks…”

“shut up!” sakura grits his teeth. “why are you here?”

“i’m here to take care of you,” you say and push sakura down back onto his futon. “sit down. i’ll go prepare some congee for you, okay?”

“h-huh?!” sakura’s face turns red. “i-i can take care of myself. you can leave! i don’t want you to get sick.” he says as he is about to stand up.

“no.” you stubbornly say, crossing your arms. sakura slowly sits back down. “you lay down while i prepare the congee. don’t you dare stand up.”

sakura’s eyes widen and nods. he watches you move around his kitchen (if you can call it one). he suddenly remembers the time when you went out shopping with him, buying him things to decorate his apartment with. since sakura is too stubborn to move out of his current apartment, you decide on buying stuff such as curtains, pots, pans, and even calling a guy to fix his stove.

to be perfectly honest, sakura doesn’t understand why you will do all this for. besides, he comes over to your house almost every other day, so why does his house need any furnishing?

as soon as you finish making the congee, you walk over to sakura, who immediately hides under the futon, suddenly feeling embarrassed that he was watching you.

“what are you doing?” you ask, confused as to why he’s suddenly hiding. “here, come on. eat.” you pick a spoonful of congee up, waiting for sakura to reappear.

when he does reappear and sees you waiting for him, he backs away almost immediately. “wh-what are you doing?!”

“feeding you..?” you reply. “come on, open up.” you nudge his lips with the spoon.

he stares at you for a few seconds before opening his mouth up slightly. the taste of congee fills his mouth, sending a warm feeling throughout his whole body. “i can eat by myself, you know?” sakura says, mouth full of congee.

“i know, but i love spoiling you.” you say with a big smile on your face. 

sakura can’t help but blush seeing you smiling.

he really can’t fight against you, can’t he.

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (4)

Summary: A storm in Shelby Springs threatens to take away everything Terry loves.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4,131

Part: 4 of 5

Warnings: Mentions of violence.

Chapters: One. Two. Three

The past was a funny thing. 

In an instant, all of the promise and joy of tomorrow could be snatched away, ruined by the sins of yesterday no matter how deep they were buried in the Earth. 

When Terry limped away from Shelby Springs just before the heat of Summer could settle into the air, he expected to be gone for good. He’d taken his bruises like a man and cut his losses, never to speak of the horror he’d experienced at the brink of death. Horrors that flashed through his mind as he sat with his back aching in a wooden chair at Summer McBride’s kitchen table. 

Soft humming by the stove kept him tethered to reality though the present conversation had long turned into background murmurs. Summer sat opposite him, smart tablet in hand, as she scrolled through documents and videos sorted in a digital folder labeled evidence. 

“They didn’t delete every video. The especially heinous ones, they kept on a separate drive for blackmail if they didn’t get what they wanted. Mike’s in here.” No answer. Terry maintained his focus on the wallpaper just past her head, not blinking. “D’you hear me, Terry? Terry?” 

Still no answer. Summer peeled her concerned gaze from his face and directed it toward Patrice as she started to step closer. Patrice offered her an apologetic smile and touched Terry’s back to rub slow, soothing circles. He stiffened at her touch before picking a new spot in the room for his undivided attention.

“TJ, if you don’t wanna see the video, we understand. Right, Summer?” 

Summer nodded though she disagreed. “Right. But, you gotta know they might show this one in court tomorrow. I’d rather you be prepared now.” 

“It’s your call. Say the word and we’ll stop right here.”  

Patrice punctuated her statement with a kiss atop Terry’s head before draping her arms over his shoulders. 

He sighed and reached across his body for her hand. “How bad is it?” 

Once again, Summer looked to Patrice for guidance. A nod gave her permission to tell the truth. 

“Not life threatenin’ but…pretty bad.” 

“Play it. I’ll tell you when to stop.” 

With trepidation, Summer pressed play on the video and slid the tablet across the table. 

Terry and Patrice watched the last known footage of Mike as he encountered officers Marston and Lann. What started as a traffic stop with Mike as the passenger devolved into a brutal beating. Each blow to his body felt like a gut punch to Terry as he watched, tears welling up in his waterline. 

“Oh my God,” Patrice whispered to herself. “Maybe we should stop right here.” 

Terry shook his head and clenched his jaw, his eyes never leaving the screen. “No. Let it finish.” 

Watching the beating in its entirety became his self-inflicted punishment. He should’ve been there to protect his baby cousin. The least he could do, in his mind, was experience a fraction of the pain Mike was subjected to, even if it made him sick to his stomach. 

The video ended abruptly with no resolution outside of Mike being cuffed and thrown in the back of a cruiser like a wild animal. Patrice gripped Terry a little tighter, nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck just as a tear slid down his cheek. Summer sat across the table with her head bowed in silent prayer. 

Sniffling and the rhythmic tick, tick, tick of a wall clock were the only sounds in the room, leaving space for shared grief among the unlikely group of vigilantes. 

After some time, Terry swiped at his face to rid himself of the evidence of his sadness and forced out his question in a hoarse voice. “So what’s next? What do I gotta do to make these motherfuckers pay?” 

“Just tell your story. The defense is gonna antagonize you. They’ll try to make you confused, get you turned around and caught up in a lie, but you can’t let ‘em. Edwin Carter’s on the prosecution and he owes me a favor so, he’ll handle your prep. He should be here soon if you’re feeling up to it.” 

Terry mulled over the thought of rigorous back and forth before looking to Patrice for her opinion. “What you think, Treece?” 

“I think that every one of these pieces of shit should rot in hell. If you wanna fight, let’s fight. But as soon as it’s too much, we’ll pack up the truck and go home. No explanation needed. Fuck ‘em. No offense, Summer.” 

“Understandable. None taken.” 

“Fuck ‘em,” he parroted, chuckling at the sound of his sweet girl cursing like a hardened criminal. He looked at Summer who waited expectantly for an answer as he slid the tablet back to her. “Tell me about Carter. You think he’s in this like we are?” 

“I know he is. He’s got a vested interest in seeing Burne and that whole department crumble. Been on his heels for years. This was just the right time to bring the hammer down. He’ll take care of you.” 

“Then we’ll take care of him,” Patrice interjected. “You think he’d be down for a hot meal?” 

“If he ain’t, I sure as hell am. I haven’t cooked in here in ages.” 

“Come grab as much as you’d like. TJ, I’ll make your plate.” 

A kiss on the forehead was Patrice’s way of exiting the conversation to busy herself with dinner preparation, leaving Summer and Terry at the table alone. Summer watched him reckon with his decision and cleared her throat for his attention as she stood. 

“She’s good for you. Don’t screw it up. Take it from me.” 

Don’t screw it up.

The simple sentence sat with Terry through his half-eaten dinner and grueling trial prep with Edwin once he arrived. For hours they meticulously picked through Terry’s story, poking holes to simulate the courtroom and inducing stress to ensure that he was prepared. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His throat burned from repeating the same words over and over and over until they were seared into his brain. He left that house in the middle of nowhere emotionally exhausted and nearly regretting his decision to answer Summer’s call to action.

Terry’s chest had grown tight with anxiety that followed him back to their cramped hotel room on the outskirts of town in what Summer considered a safe zone for him and Patrice. 

The amber glow underneath the bathroom door was the only light in the room. It was barely visible as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling listening to the sound of running water while Patrice brushed her teeth. Mike’s video played in his head on a demented loop. Every scream and crack of their fists against his flesh was magnified in the theater of his mind. He was a man tormented with no end in sight. 

He didn’t hear when Patrice shut off the water or when she called his name to see if he was awake. He only felt the empty spot beside him dip as she climbed into bed. She cozied up next to him without speaking, throwing her leg across his waist and laying her head on his chest once he’d opened his arm to welcome her presence. 

“I thought you were asleep,” she whispered in the dark. 

“Not yet. Was waiting on you.” 

“That’s sweet.” 

His chest rose and fell quickly with his chuckle. The feeling made her smile in the dark though he couldn’t see. 

They lay in silence for several minutes, both of them listening to the other breathe as a soundtrack to the night. Patrice felt herself dozing off until Terry’s deep voice cut through the still air. 

“I’m scared, Treece.” 

She didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yeah? You wanna talk about it.” 

“Not really. Can you just…talk? About anything. I need to hear your voice.” 

“Of course, baby.” Patrice nestled closer to Terry, earning a tight hug as a wordless thank you for her understanding. “Sometimes I think about the first time we met. I’d heard about you from some of the girls in homeroom, but they made you sound like some random dickhead on the football team. But you were so sweet. And that smile, God that smile. I’d never seen anything like it. I still haven’t.” 

“What’d you think about me then?” 

Patrice sighed from the sweet memory. “I thought you were special because you were kind and smart even though your friends weren’t. I thought you were too skinny to be so tall, too. You looked like you hadn’t grown into your body yet.” 

Terry chuckled. He vividly remembered spending hours in their garage gym each week desperately trying to bulk up so that he could shed the gangly giant image that had followed him from middle to high school. 

“What do you think about me now?” 

Running her fingers along his arm, Patrice stopped at the gunshot wound on his shoulder. She traced the raised scar before sliding her hand back down to lace her fingers with his. 

“I think you’re beautiful inside and out. I think that in every single galaxy, you’re my person. And, even if there’s one where you’re not, I’d still spend my whole life searching for you because your absence would leave me feeling empty inside.”

In the pitch-black room, they searched for each other, desperate to share their affection. Their tongues danced a beautiful waltz together in lockstep. The subtle smack of lips joining and separating raised the hair on the back of Terry’s neck as he fought to restrain himself. Not here. Not now. Not before he had the opportunity to do right by her and make their union official in some grand gesture he hadn’t nailed down the plan for just yet. 

He owed her more than rushed sex in a low-rank hotel on the eve of what could be a life-changing moment for them. 

Sensing his reluctance, Patrice abandoned her thoughts of straddling his waist and pulled away from the kiss to take a breath. Terry gently rolled them over beneath the sheets to act as the big spoon in their equation. 

“I love you. So much,” he whispered in her ear, this time making sure that she heard every syllable. 

Patrice lifted her head to look over her shoulder and kissed his bottom lip. “I heard you the first time. I love you. I’ll always love you.” 

“Marry me.” 

Patrice’s giggle soon turned into full on laughter, prompting Terry to join in despite his simple statement not being intended as a joke. She settled in and began lulling herself to sleep by dragging her finger along the outline of his Bad Brains tattoo that she’d committed to memory. 

“One day, maybe.” 

Unfortunately, sleep never came for Terry. He spent the entire night listening to the soft snoring Patrice swore didn’t exist and thinking through every scenario for the hours ahead. If they were quick, they could skip town and leave all of this shit behind. Maybe they could settle somewhere like Detroit or Chicago. She’d get a new job as a teacher and he could find work doing anything as long as she was happy. She’d never go for that convoluted plan, but it was a good enough distraction from his reality. 

In the morning, when the sun was high and the earthy aroma of a midnight rain had settled over the city, Patrice and Terry stood hand in hand in front of the courthouse with Summer by their side. 

It was now or never and, on the last day of testimonies, now was the only option. 

Patrice sat with the rest of the spectators beside Summer, her eyes trained on Terry as he fidgeted with his tie on the witness stand. Chief Burne sat beside his attorney with a smug grin plastered on his weathered face. He was convinced that every minute of this trial was a farce. Soon a jury of his peers would find him not guilty of crimes he surely committed and he could get on with the status quo. This wasn’t his first rodeo. The system was made for men like him. 

Without a word, the defense attorney stood up and started toward Terry. He pretended to clean his glasses before speaking, adding flare to his one-man show. 

“Terrence. Or do you prefer Terry?” 

“Terrence, please.” 

“Right.” the attorney responded with a curt smile. “Terrence, shall we begin?” 

A rhetorical question. There was no way out. 

For what felt like an eternity, Terry was subjected to question after question regarding his whereabouts, his training, his motives, and why the twelve people sitting on his left should believe that the Shelby Springs police department was a corrupt organization headed by a man intent on defrauding citizens from here to Atlanta out of their hard-earned money. 

Sweat pooled under his arms like the remnants of a monsoon. His heart raced with every thinly veiled accusation. His cuticles were nearly picked raw from his nervous scratching. He felt nauseous, highly irritable, and alone with every face in the room seeming to frown back at him like he was the one on trial for countless atrocities. 

In the sea of adversaries, Patrice kept her gaze sympathetic in hopes that he would take her expression as a life raft in a raging storm. 

Closing arguments came after a short recess, leaving Chief Burne’s fate and serval victim’s justice in the hands of twelve strangers randomly selected to balance metaphorical scales of guilt and innocence.

The wait was unbearable and energy draining. So much so that he couldn’t find the wherewithal to engage with Patrice over dinner at a local diner while she gushed over the quality of their evening special. 

“Getting solid Nashville hot chicken outside of Nashville is like a miracle. We should play the lotto tonight too.” Terry acknowledged her excitement with a quick half smile, barely looking away from the window he was resting against. Patrice persisted. “How’s your food?”

“It’s, uh, it’s good. Solid steak. Potatoes could’ve been cooked longer, I guess.” 

“Want me to send it back,” she asked, preparing to flag down the young waitress servicing them for the night. 

Terry declined and pushed his food around the plate. “I’m not even hungry. We can box it up for you to eat in the morning.” 

“Alright. Well, how’s football going? Anything new?” 

“Nope. Teenage boys still smell like sweat and weed 24/7. If they don’t tighten up, they can kiss that dream of a state championship goodbye.” 

“That’s why they have you, Drill Sergeant. Whip ‘em into shape.” 

“I don’t really have the energy for all that these days.” 

Solem silence settled over the pair as Patrice studied his tired, sunken eyes and sagging shoulders. He looked defeated and for good reason. If she could hand him a win on a platter, she’d spare no expense and sacrifice anything to make it happen just to see him smile again. 

A quiet sigh escaped past her lips before she rested her fork across her plate. “I’m gonna run to the restroom then we can get out of here, okay?”

He didn’t answer or look her in the eyes to signal that he’d heard anything she said and she didn’t push him despite feeling completely disregarded. 

Half of him wanted to chase behind her and drop to his knees in a dramatic apology. Hurting her was never his intention, but the weight of the world was crushing him relentlessly. 

Footsteps approaching the table moments later made him take a deep breath in preparation for an apology or paying the bill. The opportunity never came. 

Instead, he found himself face to face with Sandy Burne and that devilish grin he’d grown to despise. 

“Terry Richmond. We meet again and, somehow, under even worse circumstances. Enjoying your last meal before things get real bad?” 

“We can test how bad they can get if you’re feeling ambitious tonight. I got some gas left in the tank from the last time we saw each other.” 

Sandy chuckled and widened his stance. “Better save it, son. You’re not too far out of Shelby to avoid consequences and repercussions should things escalate the way they did before.” 

“Is that a threat?” 

“I never make threats. I write checks that me and my men cash. Ask Mike.”

Terry could feel his heart rate reaching dangerous levels. He wanted to cause physical harm, break limbs, step on throats - anything to inflict pain on an everpresent thorn in his side. 

Burne relished the opportunity to make him uncomfortable. He took note of Terry’s fingers curling into a fist against the table as he stared straight ahead. “Ooh, are we upset? We could take things to the parking lot if you’re feeling ambitious.” 

Impulse control had faded where the need for violent retribution stepped in. Common sense was out the door. Terry’s eyes darted between the entrance and the small group of men that had formed outside the window awaiting his next move. He sized them up, ranking them from the least to the greatest threat, and made his decision. 

He began to move out of the booth. 

“Sandy fuckin’ Burne, you peckerwood son of a bitch. To what do we owe the displeasure of seeing your worn out, leathery face up close? Zoo couldn’t hold you?” 

Patrice stepped closer, her tone deceivingly jovial though she meant every word as a targeted insult.

Sandy took a step back to let her pass as she headed back to her seat across from Terry. He scoffed at the idea that she could speak to him with no regard for his position in society. 

“I’m sorry, have we met?” 

“Oh, God no! I don’t frolic with terrorists or walk in lockstep with the wicked. You’re a God-fearing man, right?” 

“I am.”

“Good. You should be. Because your time is coming, Sandy Burne. I’m sure of it.”

“What are you trying to say?” 

Patrice looked him up and down, her eyes briefly stopping at the light right spot around his left ring finger where a wedding band presumably once sat. She smiled and flickered her gaze back up to his face screwed in a scowl. 

“Nothing your wife hadn’t already said when she left your sorry ass for somebody with a functioning brain and half-decent dick. Kathy was her name, right? I bet she doesn’t even think of you anymore. But she and her lawyer would be glad to hear that you’re carrying around that pistol off duty. It’d be enough to keep you from those sweet girls for good, wouldn’t it?” 

Shock came first on Burne’s face. His mouth hung open in clear confusion before he recovered with a steely glare. His hand twitched on the handle of his gun in apparent anger. Terry pulled his bottom lip into his mouth in anticipation of the inevitable. If he moved quickly, he could disarm him, take the beating that was sure to follow, and end up in a holding cell for the weekend to save Patrice from danger. 

She, however, wasn’t the least bit concerned. She had dealt with men like Sandy Burne before. And, if she knew his type like she thought he did, he only purported a willingness to utilize real violence to get ahead. In reality, he was a man desperate for power in the most sneaky, backhanded way possible.

She kept a poker face, staring at Sandy with the same force he showed to her until he slowly pulled his hand off his weapon and tapped his fingers on the table. 

“When all of this is over and I’m back at my desk, take your gal and get out of my town, son. Don’t come back unless you are personally invited by the mayor himself. And even then think twice. I’ve given you two too many chances. Three times and both of you are out.” 

Burne didn’t leave room for additional conversation. He scanned Patrice’s face a final time to commit it to memory just in case she followed through on her thinly veiled promise to expose him to his ex-wife’s divorce attorney. He wanted to capture a mental picture of the executioner committed to destroying his life piece by piece if he made a false move. 

A final curt smile was all he left behind before exiting the same way he came and taking his cast of bandits with him. Both Terry and Patrice watched until they were clear of the parking lot and gone into the night to speak. 

“Let’s make sure we’re packed and ready to go first thing in the morning. Don’t leave anything up to chance.” Terry instructed, pulling out his wallet to toss enough money on the table to cover the bill and tip. “How did you know that about his wife?” 

“Edwin Carter is good people.” 

Terry didn’t need further explanation. The less he knew, the better. 

What he did need was a morsel of Patrice’s optimism that she tried to share once they returned to their hotel room. 

“Look. If things don’t go our way here, I need you to leave without me. Go home, grab as much as you can, then go stay with your parents or my parents. It won’t be safe for you to live alone.” 

“Everything will be fine. Get some sleep.”

The conversation came back to him as they filed into the courtroom with the surprising news of a decision. Days of no rest had left him weary and something like a warm zombie with vacant eyes and trembling hands. 

According to Edwin, reaching a verdict this soon in a case that was rushed to this degree was unusual. He didn’t know what to make of the timeline. He could only hope for the best. 

Apprehensive chatter in the room ceased once the judge stepped out of her chambers and approached the bench. Everyone stood in reverence at the behest of the bailiff before quickly settling in silence. 

The judge adjusted in her seat and then addressed the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to remind you that once the verdict is read, there should be no outbursts. Please ensure that you maintain proper courtroom etiquette and remain seated until the jury has exited the room. If we’re all on the same page, has the jury reached a verdict?” 

“Yes, Your Honor,” the foreperson answered, standing with the decision in his hand. The judge gestured for him to continue. 

Terry gripped Patrice’s hand, unknowingly holding his breath in preparation for the worst. Summer bowed her head again in prayer. Patrice closed her eyes and tilted her head toward heaven. 

Count 1: Guilty. Count 2: Guilty. Count 3: Guilty. 

Guilty down the line. Each alleged crime culminated in the same result. Justice seemingly served. A criminal enabled by a corrupt system was finally stripped of power and forced to convene with the very people he’d helped put away. 

A whirlwind of handcuffs, shouting, and a struggle sent Sandy Burne to his next destination and the trio outside the courthouse onto the steps to celebrate an unexpected triumph. 

They exchanged hugs and happy tears until the crowd had cleared and they were the only three left in the area. 

Summer extended her hand toward Terry for a shake. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, Terry. I’ll text you something profound every once in a while if that’s okay.” 

“Of course. Take care, Summer. Keep me updated on your girl.” 

“You got it.” She turned to Patrice who rejected the handshake and pulled her in for a warm embrace. They rocked side to side, squeezing tighter. “I appreciate your help. And your cookin’.” 

“Come by the house any time, you hear? There’s always a spot for you at our table.” 

One more squeeze was their silent signal to let go and say another goodbye before Terry and Patrice were left standing alone. 

Terry looked out into the distance, a smile ghosting at the corner of his full lips. Optimism. 

“You ready to get out of here? I think we could get to Atlanta by the evening and stay overnight if we book it.”

“What if we didn’t go home,” he asked. His head turned to get a look at Patrice’s confused expression. She searched his bright eyes for hints at his end goal. 

“I’m due back at work in a few days, Terry. Break is almost over.”

“I’ll have you back before then. Let’s celebrate first, though. I know the perfect place. You trust me?” 

Patrice took a deep breath and nodded. “You know I do.” 

“Good. Then let’s go.” 

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo

[jaemna]

w.c 1.0k | fluff

[ 4:29pm ] soft music plays from the old radio on the counter, and you quietly hum along as the wooden spoon in your hand flows smoothly through the pot on the stovetop in front of you. the noodles begin to soften and collectively swirl around in the boiling liquid in a whirlpool of broth and vegetables. the hearty aroma of the brewing soup drifts through the air, and there’s no doubt in your mind he’ll smell it from his room down the hall.

without missing a beat, the creaking of the floor boards and the shuffling of his fuzzy socks interrupts the steady flow of mindless music as he creeps closer towards the kitchen. you tip a shaker of seasoning over the pot, not turning to greet the sick boy because he should be in bed.

haechan muffles a sloppy sneeze before entering, stumbling up behind you.

“lee donghyuck,” you sternly address him, twisting the knob on the stove down to the lowest notch before turning around to face your ill partner. you cross your arms over your chest, and haechan sticks his lower lip out in a pout; he knows what you’re going to say.

“go back to bed.”

haechan crinkles his nose up in a sniffle, rubbing his face with the blanket he cloaked himself in. his hair is a nest of knots, sticking up every which way. his bangs stick to his forehead and kiss the tops of his flushed cheeks. his nose is red and irritated- as he’s been blowing it all day- and his eyes are droopy, like he could fall asleep standing upright. although he’s wrapped in a fluffy blanket, you see that all he’s wearing is a t-shirt, boxers, and socks he hadn’t bothered to match. he shakes his head from side to side, tufts of hair flopping. he crosses his arms under his blanket, mimicking you.

you roll your eyes, turning to continue tending to your cooking. “you really shouldn’t be out of bed, donghyuck. you can’t even talk,” you assert, dipping a ladle into the pot of soup. haechan suddenly swings his arms around you from behind, cocooning you in his blanket along with him, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“i can talk,” he retorts in a raspy and borderline inaudible voice; he’d just proved your point. you raise an eyebrow at him, but he buries his face into your neck as if he knows the look on your face reads ‘i told you so.’ haechan groans into your shoulder, blowing hot air onto your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. his bedhead tickles the spot on your neck just under your ear. you wiggle your arm free to push the tangled mess of his hair away from your neck, but it just flops back into place. you huff, and haechan chuckles.

“babe, you’re gonna get me sick.” he only tightens his grip on you.

“go back to bed, hyuck.”

“no,” he groans, muffled by your clothing.

“alright, kid. no soup for you, then.” you scoop up the ladle so it’s full, wafting the steam toward you to inhale it, deeply and loudly, teasing him. he’s not watching, but he knows what you’re doing.

“more for me!” you sing, bringing it up to your lips. just as you’re about to sip it, haechan sinks his teeth into your collarbone. you yelp, and the ladle slips from your grasp, causing broth to splash up from the pot. when you lift your hands to wipe the bit of soup that met your face, haechan lifts the ladle and slurps soup obnoxiously loudly, smirking at you. you glare at him as he beams, rubbing his stomach happily.

“mmmmm,” he hums sarcastically. you drop your jaw in faux animosity.

“that’s it, back to bed with you!” you link his arm with yours after plucking the ladle from his hand, and tug him out of the kitchen. he leans his head on your shoulder as you lead him to his bedroom, filling the narrow hallway with the sound of his sly snickering from the craftiness of his own joke.

you pull him into the bedroom, met with a collection of used tissues and cold medicine and a video game tune softly playing from the tv. you unhook your arm from haechan, moving the game controller to the floor and tossing all of his trash into the bin, tidying up the area to make it feel a little more inviting to your stubborn boyfriend. haechan glances down at the disarray of pillows and blankets and releases a more-than-whiny sigh.

“come on, babe,” you encourage him, pulling back his duvet for him. “you need your beauty sleep if you wanna stay that pretty,” you ruffle his jungle of hair. haechan huffs, slumping down into the bed reluctantly, laying on his back. you pull the duvet back up, laying it on top of him and his head sinks heavily onto his pillow. as you turn to leave the room, you feel a tug on your pajama pants. looking down at him, he blinks up at you a few times with big, sleepy, brown puppy dog eyes.

“i’m coming right back with your soup, baby,” you promise him sweetly, attempting to pry his hand from your pants. he only whines again, twisting his fingers in the soft fabric.

you shake your head, crookedly grinning at the sleepy boy’s desperation, and lean down to press a light kiss to the tip of haechan’s nose. he smiles proudly, as if he’s just saved the world, and snuggles up into his blankets.

the trip back to the kitchen takes no more than five minutes, but even so, haechan is fast asleep when you return. you step in quietly, careful not to disturb him, and set the bowl of soup on his desk along with the extra cold medicine you picked up from the bathroom. haechan snores a bit, most likely due to his stuffy nose, and he shifts to lay on his side. he draws in a long congested breath, letting it out in a big sigh.

you lower yourself onto the bed, picking up the game controller. taking precaution to not wake him, you mute the game’s volume before unpausing and continuing where he left off. as you lay back, haechan drapes his duvet over the both of you, resting his chin on top of your head and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“if i get sick, you’re taking care of me.”

he hums happily. “deal.”

[tmntxthings]

you said your requests are open in your navigation post and i'm absolutely obsessed with your writing !! could you possibly do something with yandere mikey ? whatever you want !! i'm just starving for mikey content and i love the way you characterise him <3

一∑4ÆM。・゜・🐢🧡

author’s notes: ahhhhh thank you my sweet anon for the kind words, i’m a simple person, you say yandere, and i start writing 😂

warnings: dark au, yandere tendencies, erratic behavior, delusion, threats, intimidation, choking, unedited, angsty

song: 4ÆM by Grimes

—————————————————————————

It was late one night. Mikey rarely stayed up past 2 am but here he was, humming to himself as he made the two of you grilled cheeses. It wasn’t 2 but 4 in the morning. Everyone else was in their own respective rooms. You had doubts that Leo and Donnie were asleep. But you could hear Raph’s snores all the way in the kitchen. And Splinter wasn’t exactly a peaceful sleeper either.

“Should I heat up some soup to dip it in?” You offered going to where they kept the cans of microwaveable soup. “Ah sure!” Mikey agreed. As it so happened, the microwave was right above the stove where Mikey was working his magic.

But years of being in each other’s space had you easily crossing the boundary of personal space to get on your tippy toes to press the button that opened up the microwave and placed the bowl of soup inside. You set it for three minutes, clicked start, and then backed away.

The smell of burnt bread filtered through your nose and you looked over to Mikey to see that he was just staring straight ahead. Spatula in hand ready for flipping the cheese sandwiches but not doing anything at all. “…Mike? It’s burnin’” you said plainly.

He blinked, looked down and his blank expression morphed into one of horror. “Oh no no no!” In dismay he flipped to see the charred toast. His teeth clacked as he scooped it once more and went for the trash can.

“Wait wait I’ll eat it! Don’t waste it Angelo!!” You said hurriedly but he just looked at you with a bewildered expression before chunking it. “We’ve got more cheese and bread, I’m not feeding you burnt grilled cheese.” You crossed your arms. “All it needed was a good scraping on the burnt side and it would’ve been fine!”

He shook his head. “Trash!” He said with finality. He got to work whipping up two more. You let it go. And the two of you situated yourself at the kitchen table, soup in between you both as you had your own respective sandwiches. You were starved so you chowed down right away. Blowing out hot air as you burned your tongue in the process.

Mikey had pulled up a YouTube video for the two of you to watch in the meantime. Glancing over at your antics and shaking his head once more but with a smile this time. “Wha?” You said with food still in your mouth. His beak scrunched. And you gave him a wicked grin before opening your mouth fully to show him the mushy half eaten food inside.

“Gross! Why?!” He whined, tearing his eyes away to watch the video he had up. You didn’t have a response for that. Spontaneity you guessed. You hadn’t finished your meal yet but you pushed out of your seat. “Where ya going?” He chirped not looking away from the screen. “Drink!” You stated, bending down as you looked in the fridge to view the options.

“Want something?” You asked. “Nah… actually a Dr. Pepper.” You grabbed one and headed back. Cracking it open you took a sip before sliding it his way. He took a sip without looking away from the screen. You tilted over to see what it was about, some grocery store hijinks. Lame! You got back to the meal. Opening up your own phone to check the messages you had missed.

You hadn’t been on your phone all day! Spending most of it with Mikey doing mundane stuff. Video gaming or watching movies. You smiled down at a specific message.

Unbeknownst to you, Mikey had his eyes on you ever since you had opened up your phone. A blank expression taking over his face once more. “Who’s that.” He said, not a question. But you hardly noticed, your attention enraptured from the slew of messages you were receiving now. Then you halted and your eyes shot up at Mikey, one of his brow bones lifted in question at the shocked look you gave him.

“I never told you!” You said with surprise and turned fully to him. Mikey felt his muscles tighten. Something you hadn’t told him? What could it be? His thoughts spiraled to worse case scenarios. “I met this person… and it was like insta-crush! They’ve just got this way about them. Okay wait wait lemme start from the beginning—“

The muscle by his jaw ticked. A crush. An insta-crush. You were crushing on someone? It was as if by thinking of the worst thing possible it then came true. While you went on distracted by your disgusting puppy love, Mikey sat there not really listening. He watched as you were pulled away from the conversation multiple times by your phone lighting up. And his pupils started to shake.

After the fourth time of you getting all distracted and giggly Mikey rammed his fist down into the table. Smashing bits of it to splinters. “What the hell Mikey?!” You were out of your chair and raising your hands up in what was a mix of emotions. “Heh! Sorryyyyy,” those dead eyes of his crinkled into crescents as he smiled then he shook his fist as if it had hurt.

“Sorry?! What was that?? You smashed the table into dust!” Your eyes were bugging out at the show of strength. “There was a bug!” Mikey lied. You gave him a once over. Then you took a step back. Ah he was such a terrible liar.

“Maybe I should go? It’s getting late. You’re probably tired!” It’s like you were trying to give him an excuse. “But I thought we were having a sleepover?” Mikey whined. Getting up from his chair slowly. You were pedaling backwards. “We can reschedule Angie! Really!” Your voice was half placating, and half fearful.

“Okay okay, you got me!” Mikey held up his hands in a show of surrender and in your confusion you hesitated to escape further. “Huh?” You questioned. “I may have gotten a teensy bit jealous! I had no idea you were crushing on someone!” Mikey explained. Then went further.

“I actually thought.. with how much you’ve been over.. and how well we get along.. I just thought maybe words weren’t needed to describe what we were!”

You blinked slowly. “We’re friends Mikey.” You said plainly. His hands went down, while his head tilted to the side. “Really? Do friends stay up this late together?” You were instantly defensive. “Yes! Donnie, me, and Leo stay up this late all the time!” So Mikey went further.

“Do they share food or the same soda? Do they cross boundaries? Do they text 24/7? Do they say I love you? Do they cuddle? Do they share a bed?” The more he listed the more his face lost control. His eyes widening in a manic sort of way as his hands started to flail about. You flushed at the last bit. “I was perfectly fine on the couch! It was you who had insisted—“

“We. Are. Dating!” He yelled out. His plastron heaving as he struggled to breathe properly. “You like me! And I like you. We aren’t friends. We’ve been dating forever. You don’t have a crush on anyone but me!” He swallowed as his eyes brightened completely into what you could only describe as his ninja stare. You trembled in place as his hands rose from his sides, his ninpo flaring to life as that fiery orange chain snaked into view threatening to shoot towards your form if you dared to bolt.

“Say it.” You couldn’t. It was a lie. It was a delusion. Something Mikey had made up all on his own, something you had no part in. You shook your head. He huffed. “Fine.” The last thing you remember seeing was that chain faster than lightning wrapping around your body, it squeezed you, holding on to every part available. Choking you. And Mikey walking over without a care in the world as your vision swam and turned black.

—————————————————————————

[carolmunson]

love language eight

on a tuesday! love language set list a collection of short blurbies of you and eddie in the 90s, no real plot. (though, this one has a couple call backs) cw: very soft, not really anything bad. sort of implies that reader's dad died? sort of? not really?

“Hm,” he mumbles when he gets home, work boots left at the door, doe eyes half closed. The gray tank he wore under his cover alls dips in tone where it caught all of his sweat from the garage. The blow of the air conditioning wraps around him like a cunning snake, beckoning him further in where he knows you’ll be.

You haven’t been feelin’ good and he knows it, meeting you in the kitchen to kiss once, twice, three times on the center of your forehead before he even speaks. Dinner plates full, just like your hands. Just like your head.

At least it’s not storming tonight.

He takes his time, rough hands on each cheek, nose to nose. He leans in to kiss your lips, appreciating you for dinner, for being here, for being you. In the hot hot heat over the stove while he’s in the hot hot heat under hoods.

Plush pink lips have their final landing on the fat of your cheek. He pushes in, curls tickling your face, enough for you to giggle.

“I got us some ice cream,” you say, “For later.”

He knows you only wanna make milkshakes when you’re not feelin’ good. They remind you of the carnival with your dad — humid nights and sugared air, all the lights twinkling to make up for blocking out the stars. He wonders what you were like when you were a kid. Did you like the Ferris wheel? Did your dad ever rock the cabin? Eddie’s dad did. It always made him scared. He wonders if you ever get scared. If you do, you never say it.

“I’ll make ‘em,” he murmurs back.

You turn the lights off a lot when it’s hot, even with the AC on. Always mumbling that the lights are hot too, so you eat in the glow of the stove light — cast in a grayish green. He stares at you while you sit there, staring down at the plate. It’s not storming but something is wrong, something’s on the brink.

Eddie swallows his bite, pushing away from the table to the freezer where the ice cream is. Silently, he takes out the blender, casting glances over at you while you poke and prod at your food. He wishes you’d eat it, it’s delicious. Pretty girl in his kitchen, pretty girl that makes him dinner, pretty girl who will have a pretty ring on soon. Pretty, pretty, pretty.

The half smile he gets from you when he pushes your plate away to replace it with the milkshake is as bright as the carnival lights you used to stare at. He sits across from you with his, passing you a straw from the junk drawer.

You look down at the cup and then up at him, sizing up the offering — you always make them, and you always make them the best. His words, not yours.

Cold and thick, pooling in your mouth — it tastes better than the sugared air and the Tilt-a-Whirl and your dad’s wheezy laugh mixing with yours. It tastes better than the roasted candied peanuts and the way your dad would rock the cabin on the Ferris wheel.

Eddie looks at you eagerly, eyes shining like the sign on the Zoltar fortune machine. You wonder for a moment, with the shake in your mouth, if anything you wished for ever even came close to him.

You guess nothing ever could. All the quarters in the world couldn’t add up.

“Hm,” you nod in approval, on your way to your second sip.

“Hm.”

[winged-self-indulgence]

🔞 I could fix him 🔞

It was one of those days.

Ray was getting better at predicting them; the mornings when he’d wake up truly feeling the weight of the world resting on his shoulders, threatening to flatten him beneath the smothering mantle of responsibility that had been dumped – knowingly or unknowingly – upon his shoulders. Usually those were the days he’d call in sick if he was feeling charitable, or simply not show up to the NAHA office if not and just spend the entire day with you.

Although the two of you lived separately, it had quickly become clear that the arrangement was mostly nominal in nature. When Ray wasn’t out patrolling and saving the world from monstrous threats, he was at your apartment listening to your voice. And when you weren’t at work, you were at his apartment filling the once impersonal corners with the sound of music, the scent of home-cooked meals, and little knick-knacks you thought he’d like.

Most nights you fell asleep in each other’s arms, and every morning you never let him go to work without two kisses goodbye – one for ‘be safe’, the other for ‘I love you’. Ray swore they gave him energy to get through the day, just knowing you were home waiting for him, that you still loved and accepted him – flaws, monstrous desires and all. When the abyss in his chest threatened to spiral out of control, remembering that grounded him back to reality. Made him want to stay here, stay present, stay with you.

Unfortunately, it was one of those days where the NAHA were being even more annoying than usual. Half of the heroes who were supposed to be patrolling didn’t show up, and most of the ones who did bother to turn up seemed content to kick back the moment they spotted Ray’s name on the roster. The NAHA had scheduled him for three TV interviews before lunch, and during the second one a villain had attempted to blow up the studio building. While saving civilians and crew members from the inferno, one of the presenters – a popular social media celebrity if he recalled correctly – had tried to kiss him in front of the cameras. It was only decades of ingrained self-control that prevented Ray from ripping their head clean off their neck and tossing it and their body into the sky to join the rest of the trash circling the earth’s atmosphere, though he did take a great deal of spite in dropping them from just a little too high off the ground. If something happened to their anklebones, that was hardly his fault.

All in all, by the time Binary Star Hero pushed open the door to his apartment, he was ready to drop. If he could have curled up in bed and put himself into a coma for the next few business days, he would have done so in a heartbeat.

However, he paused at the entryway, surprised by the scent pervading his condo. The sweetness of coconut milk melded silkily with the warm, earthy scent of chili and cumin, which combined with the floral aroma of rosemary, thyme, and a dozen other herbs he couldn’t quite parse. Ray followed his nose to the kitchen, expecting to find you there, but only spotting a large pot bubbling on the stove – the flames turned down low to keep the soup simmering low and slow.

That meant you still had to be in the condo, but it was strange that you hadn’t called out to him. “Star?” Heartbeat ratcheting up, Ray turned to search the rest of the rooms, and just as quickly as the flare of panic had overtaken him it vanished as soon as he spotted you.

The original couch in the condo hadn’t been comfortable, the whole space having been designed more for aesthetics than coziness. Prior to meeting you, Ray had barely spent any time in his own home. After meeting you, bringing you home, and then listening to you whine about how his couch cushions felt more like glittery rocks, he’d immediately purchased a new couch. One with thicker padding, ergonomic armrests, and a built-in sofa-bed.

Cute. You were so fucking cute.

There you were, curled up on the couch with one of his jackets pulled over your torso for warmth, leaving your legs exposed to the cool evening air. Chuckling airily to himself, Ray leaned over to brush a strand of hair from your cheek, allowing the safe warmth of your presence to settle him. Just as he was about to fetch a proper blanket for you, his eyes caught on something strange.

Ray blinked, then froze entirely when he spotted a familiar shade of fabric. It barely took any of his strength to tug the jacket collar down, enough to reveal a maroon-red neckline. His sweater. You were wearing his sweater.

And not much else else, if your bare legs were anything to go by.

“Mmph. Ray?” The man watched you stir to life, yawning and blinking back the lingering remnants of sleep. “You’re home. Ugh, what time is it?”

His gaze sharpened when you sat up and stretched, inadvertently knocking the jacket off completely. The jumper, already meant to be oversized on his 6ft-something frame, was practically drowning you. The collar splayed wide, exposing the bruised slope of your shoulder and neck – still marked up from last night. The sleeves had been rolled up, presumably so they wouldn’t get in the way while you cooked, but one had come loose during your nap and now only the tips of your fingers were visible as you lifted a hand to rub the corner of your eye.

Concerned by the extended silence, you craned your neck up to look at your boyfriend. “Ray?” You called, and then let out a strangled yelp when he immediately flopped on top of you. On instinct your arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Bad day?” You guessed.

“Mm. Just let me stay like this for a while, Star,” he murmured, inhaling the heady scent of your skin, and exhaling the words into the curve of your throat.

“Food’s gonna be ready soon,” you told him, dropping a fluttering kiss against his forehead. Ray closed his eyes, blissfully receiving the gesture as a benediction. “We can watch something stupid later and eat all the ice cream I bought. I will even allow you to have some of my cookies and cream bars.”

Ray listened to you ramble with one ear, paying half of his attention to the gentle cadence of your voice while the rest focused on the steady thump-thump-thump of your heart between your ribs. The reminder that you were still here, that he was still here, that you were his. 

Soon listening wasn’t enough. The rhythm in your chest stuttered and sped up, responding to the hands dragging over your body with absentminded possessiveness. Warm fingers, rough with scars and calluses, squeezed the inside of your thighs before sliding under the hem of your – or more specifically, his – shirt. They moved higher, groping the dip of your hips, the small of your waist, the softness of your ass. By the time those fingers reached your nipples you were a sensitive wreck, barely touched and yet your body was aflame with directionless heat.

“R-Ray…” You squirmed in place, one hand raised to your lips to stifle the keening noise escaping from the back of your throat, knees turning inward as you tried to squeeze your thighs shut. With careless ease, Ray elbowed your legs apart. He sat up, smiling idly at the cute picture you made. Flat on your back and sprawled beneath him, sweater shoved all the way up to your collar, exposing your gorgeous body to his intense gaze. The low lamplight cast shadows over you, exposing parts of your flushed skin and hiding others tantalizingly from view. “Ray, w-what about dinner…?”

“Mm. It’ll be fine,” he murmured lazily, unbuckling his jeans and never taking his dark eyes off you for a single moment. Ray’s movements were slow, lethargic, and full of methodical intent as his cock flopped out – swollen thick, heavy, and dripping with precum. “Just let me have this, Star.”

You’d always known that Ray was strong. Superstrength was one of the most basic hero abilities, one that often came as a passive perk with other powers. However you had underestimated how much he’d been holding back, because it barely took more than the flick of a finger for him to rip your underwear completely off.

“You’re soaked, Star,” he chuckled, knuckles running idly over your sex and causing more juices to leak out. You gasped when he leaned over you, letting the tip of his cock press against your hole. Not in, simply tapping against your wet entrance, drawing circles, or pressing just enough for the fat head to almost pop in.

He pulled away briefly, admiring the sticky strings of both of your juices connecting his cockhead to your puffy sex. His attitude was a direct contrast with yours, almost sleepily calm while you were whining and thrashing underneath his bulk, unable to do anything other than endure the burning torture.

The orgasm crept up on you. Not stalking you through the shadows, but like a monster you could see coming and would never be able to fight off no matter how hard you tried. It hit you like a tsunami, an arching wave of pleasure so good it hurt. You sobbed and thrashed, pinned beneath Ray while he watched you with that same, sleepy smile, as if you were an adorable toy being played with.

“Pretty little thing,” the man cooed as he rocked his hips in a slow, painfully pleasurable grind, forcing you through another choking orgasm on the cusp of the last one. “So good for me, aren’t you, my Star? Mm. I think I need a little more.”

[madamechrissy]

Up in The Air

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ Suguru Geto x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Breeding kink (Suguru needs twins duhh) ass smacking, anal play, Suguru is obsessed with reader's ass, blow jobs, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 7,035

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ You have been jilted at the altar by your groom, Mahito, who has led you on for years. Your best friends, Maki and Yuta, suggest to go on this Honeymoon alone, to get away and find yourself again. On the plane ride, you run into a gorgeous man on a business trip, who holds your hand when you say that you're terrified of planes, Suguru Geto. You all fall into easy conversation, and there's chemistry, he makes you feel better than you had in a long time. You think to ask his number, when he realizes that his room has fallen through.

Well, you have a big honeymoon suite, and you suggest he stays with you. What can go wrong? Not like you don't wanna straddle him or anything...

Chapter 7 - Masterlist Playlist

Chapter 8

3 days till Vacation ends

You stretch the next morning, with the sun filtering through the windows, bright against your eyes. Your entire body is aching with all of the… well, exertions, it had been put through the past few days. Your pussy throbs just a bit, and your thighs are so sore, when you sit up in the big bed.

You look over to see the rumpled blankets and sheets next to you. You rub your hand against it, smiling a bit, remembering last night with Suguru. Your nose starts to smell something sweet, and you, like some cartoon character, want to follow the trail, and as you stand, your feet on the fluffy carpet beneath you, the sounds of clanging hit your ears.

You also hear some… is that Suguru’s sexy voice singing!? You pad out to the kitchen area, smiling at this vision in front of you. Suguru is at the stove, shirtless with just his boxers on, framing that rather nice ass he has, you can’t help but bite your lip, watching the strong muscles in his back move.

He’s singing softly, but… it sounds so good, as you come closer, and realize he must have earbuds in, as he doesn’t turn to see you yet, you get to enjoy more of him… being him. Although you are undoubtedly head over heels (let’s be honest you were when he held your hand on that plane) there was still so much to learn about him. While you were an open book, he was a bit more reserved.

You hope to get that chance, as your chest tightens just watching him. He's got a wooden spoon in one hand, and with the other, he's flipping a pancake into the air. It does a little twirl before landing perfectly back into the pan with a sizzle. You giggle at the sight, and finally he catches sight of you and smirks, winking charmingly at you, then putting the pan back on the stove, turning the heat off.

“Morning Princess.” He comes to you, taking out his ear buds, before pulling you against his bare chest. You grin, as you see he has a little batter on his cheek, swiping it off for him, fuck he looks so gorgeous, he’s got this tan from all the sun, making his skin glow from the sunlight streaming in. You run your hands down his chest, exhaling.

“Good morning, handsome.” He cups your face, bending down and kissing you, and you just melt, as he presses his lips against yours, as you feel the heat from his hard body, filling you with desire, with…

You’re a love sick teenager basically.

You just fawn over him.

You look up at him with glittery eyes, smiling, trying to hold back to urge to just spout it out- “Suguru Geto I love you”- yeah no. You’d let it slip because your brain gets stupid when that man fucks you, how could you think when his cock wrecks your pussy and your thoughts are jumbled? But even right now you gulp it down.

He needs time and that’s fine, it’s better than fine, you did not ever expect even that, even him asking you to be his girlfriend. Now it’s a million times worse, these feelings, growing so quickly it should scare you, but it doesn’t. You’d spend so damn long hating your body, hating your personality, and Mahito had been what you perceived as some ‘gift’ when in fact, he had wasted so much time.

You shake yourself out of your reverie, looking at the pancakes he’d made, a whole stack of them. “This looks amazing, oh gosh! Suguru you cook?”

“Of course I do. Thought I’d treat you, Princess. You looked so sleepy and cute so I didn’t wake you.” He flips the last pancake off, and your hand goes to his back, trailing down his spine and he moans softly. “Hey now, these will get cold if you keep that up.”

“You’re so sweet to do this. Thank you!” He tugs at your ponytail, shaking his head, his eyes lidded as he looks at you.

“It’s nothing, love. Sit down, let me make you a plate.” You eagerly do as he says, sitting down at the little table you all honestly had barely used so far. “How many do you want?”

“Like one is fine. Or two!”

“Three it is.”

“That’s too much, silly.”

“How you gonna keep that nice big ass if you don’t eat!?” You snort in laughter, blushing then, as he continues to make you feel so much better about your body, the thing that Mahito had shit on you over. You loved to work out a bit and naturally had a little muscle, and yeah, a big ass. And though men had complimented it, back then, Mahito’s words had…

“You’re so silly, Suguru. It’s mostly from me and Maki squatting at the gym, and genetics.”

“Uh-huh, but you need food for that, be a good girl and eat for me.” You sigh, smiling up at him, resting your chin in your hand. He makes it hard not to spout endless I love yous.

“Two then.” He grins, as you shoot a wink, and he places two on there, then hands you the syrup, coming to sit next to you.

“Thanks, looks so yummy. Mmm, it is yummy!” You nibble on the fluffy pancake, moaning then.

“You gotta be sexy even eating hmm?” Your heart flutters, looking over at him, his handsome face lit by the sunlight, casting shadows against his chiseled cheeks, his tongue darting to lick syrup off a lip.

“Says you, looking like pure sex over there.” You run your bare foot up his leg then, and his brows raise as he peeks down.

“You playing footsie with me, bratty girl?” You just grin, chewing another bite.

“Maybe I am.” You slide your foot higher, until it’s on his thigh, and he grunts then, brows drawing together.

“I should teach you a lesson about teasing.” You continue rubbing your foot against that strong thigh, until your toes tease him where he’s semi hard, and his eyes narrow at you.

“Something… up… Sugu?” You sip on your coffee, smirking, and then you gasp when he’s grabbed you so quickly, slinging you over his lap. You squeal at that, wriggling then. “Hey!”

“Hmm how many smacks.” He trails his fingers down your shorts, before shoving them down, exposing your ass to the cool air. You shiver, starting to feel wetness already as his big hand connects with a loud smack.

“Oof!” It stings, and he hums, contentedly, rubbing your ass then.

“Fuck it bounces so nicely. Mmm, I say a few more. What do you say, my bratty Princess?” You shiver at that, at his caress, at him asking permission in his own way, as if he really needed to. But that’s who he was. He always made sure things were okay with you.

“I think I need… a few more. I’m very bratty this morning.” He chuckles, and you feel his body shaking with that, before he smacks you again, admiring it.

“Look how it jiggles.” He smacks it again, alternating cheeks, until you’re a mess, moaning and grabbing onto his lap helplessly. “Think I’m obsessed.”

“With my ass?” You peek up at him, your face is flushed, your eyes glittering, as the pain makes you wetter. He grabs your ass with his hands, squeezing and grinning, that crooked little grin, the one that makes his eyes crinkle.

The one you love.

“I am an ass man. It’s true. But obsessed with your moans, those little cries from the back of your throat.” You tense, as his words wash over you, in that husky tone, as he finds your slit, his grip on your ass cheek tightening. “How wet you get. How pretty you look when you blush.”

“Fuck.” Is all you manage, and when he slides a thick, long finger in your entrance, you cry out in pleasure, wetness seeping out around it.

“Yeah… fuck.” His voice is gruff, husky, and you feel him, so hard under you, as his hands slide up.

“Sugu… Please.” You whisper, and before you know it, you’re on his lap, straddling him in the chair, his eyes hungry, those full lips parted as he looks up at you, exhaling and grabbing your hips tightly. Your hands go to his shoulders, as he hastily frees himself, cock slapping against his belly button, before it starts disappearing inside your greedy little cunt.

“Princess… I… oh god…” Suguru moans, head falling back, long hair falling softly against his shoulders, as his teeth come to worry his lower lip. You cry out as you take him in, inch by inch, stretching and filling you.

“Mnh… it’s so-ah!” He yanks you down, shoving all the way in you then, filling you to the brim, against your cervix. You’re gushing around him, having trouble even catching a breath. “Sugu!”

“You’re so tight, fuck.” He exhales, lifting you up, just to jerk up his hips and slam back into you again, and you pulse around him now, gushing around his thick cock. Your eyes roll back, head falling as you roll your hips, feeling him impossibly deep against you, and he yanks your top off. “Pretty perfect tits.”

“Ngh-ah- Thank-mnnh-” You can’t form a word, not when his hot mouth takes one of the peaks of your breasts, sucking on it, and it’s so sensitive you cry out, and he’s got his eyes shut, brows low, his hands digging in your waist, thumbs against your ribs, as he fucks up into you.

“Oh my god.” He whispers, and when he looks up you see his cheeks, dusted with pink, pupils blown out so much his eyes look like pure honey. Your thighs squeeze his then, as you struggle to move, with all the pressure inside driving you insane, so close to cumming already. But then he stands, making you squeal, your legs wrapped on his hips.

“What are you-” Before you know it, he’s got you up on the table, and he’s shoved the plates over, they fall to the floor and you giggle, breathless, as he glares down at you.

“You can still laugh, huh? Gotta fix that.” His tone, how dark and sexy he gets, as he slams his cock inside you, and your head falls back on the cold wood of the table, and he is rhythmically pounding into you. “Stopped-ha- that laugh. Yeah?”

“Y-yes-yes-yes, Sugu yes.” You’re muttering as he throws one of your legs over his chest, your heel resting on his shoulder, pulling your hips and sliding you down his length, filling you so deep you can’t take it. You start nearly squirting wetness around his cock, as he fucks into you, and it’s dripping down your ass, down to this fancy table he’s wrecking you on.

“Cum all over me, Princess. Need to feel that perfect little pussy tighten around me.” You couldn’t stop it if you tried, screaming out, back arching, as he rolls his hips and presses in, bottoming out inside you, his hand sliding up to your throat, groaning as he feels you.

“Sugu s’fucking good. S’much… cum too…” You stutter as his hand wraps tight around your throat, thumb pressing up under your pulse point, looking to you for the okay, and you eagerly take his wrist, nodding.

He moans out, squeezing the sides then, cutting off your oxygen, you start feeling that pressure and his cock fucking into you, harder than he had yet, and you’re adjusting to it, slippery so that he’s in and out with ease. His free hand is on your soft tummy then, pressing down, and fuck if you don’t feel him there, his cock, just wrecking anything you have.

“Love looking at my hand around your tiny little throat.” He says, husky, moaning as he speaks, as his muscles bunch while he fucks into you, his abdomen tightening, looking so good you can’t take your eyes off it, except his face? Even prettier.

Your eyes lock, as your face reddens, as he’s rolling his hips and the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, grinding then, and you begin to feel everything exploding, stars bursting in your eyes, vision fuzzy. You cry out silently, clinging to him desperately, as your orgasm hits, washing all over your body, goosebumps everywhere as your cunt gushes on his cock.

Your ears ring and you feel like you’re floating, so blissful, as you keep cumming, as he fucks you into another orgasm, and you’re on that brink when he releases your throat then, picking you up and sliding out of you. You whine at that, weakly grabbing on to him, greedily sucking in air, he kisses you deeply before turning you, bending you over the table now.

“Wanna watch this ass jiggle while I fuck you so good.” His voice is so husky, his hands so powerful, as he puts you where he wants you, owning you, arching your ass up and sliding back in then. “Oh-fuck-s’good. Princess.”

“Mnh, Sugu!” Your voice is hoarse as you cry out, as he starts hitting it from the back, long cock slamming your already abused cervix. Your breasts are pressed against the table, hands desperately clinging to it, knuckles going white, as his hands press those dimples in your back.

“This ass, so fucking nice ugh. Princess, let me smack it again?” You nod, eagerly, and he pulls back just a bit, smacking it hard. “Look at that handprint. Need another.”

He smacks the other side again, stinging and burning, but it’s so good, you love the pain, it makes your walls flutter around his thickness. He hisses at that, and smacks you again, thrusting harder and faster, and shaking your body with each thrust, until his hands pull your ass cheeks apart, and you feel spit sliding down your ass, hot and sticky, somewhere Suguru hadn’t touched yet.

“Sugu- you…” He’s slowing down now, one hand running down your spine, the other caressing between your cheeks, and you’re trembling, cunt throbbing at overwhelming sensations he brings.

“Can I play with it, Princess? Only if you want.” He asks, husky, and you bite your lip, nervous, looking back at him, seeing his pupils blown out, desire mirrored in his handsome face, looking entranced by you.

“You’re really obsessed with my ass.” You tease, he laughs a bit. “And did you just spit on it!?”

“Sure did. I’ll do it again.” You watch him, and the look of it is so lewd, so naughty, you can’t take it, whining and pushing your ass out.

“Just like… you wanna touch it? It’s hard to think with your cock in me mnh.” Your head swirls, and his thumb slides around the little hole then, and you shiver at such a feeling.

“Really wanna finger it. If you want.”

“That sounds so freaky!” He laughs, then you sigh, nodding shyly. You feel his thumb, slick with your arousal and his saliva push in, so slow, stretching your little hole out, and you can feel your body tightening around his cock. He hisses as you clamp down, pressing in and out of your ass while his cock hits that spot. “Oh god!”

“Is that-ah fuck- okay Princess?” He asks softly, as he fucks your pussy, his thumb in your ass still, pushing deeper, it’s a painful stretch but it seems to just push you further, make you wetter.

“It’s good, it’s good.” He’s gripping you hard then, and you hear the smacks as he snaps his hips against the fat of your ass, and then he’s got a finger in your ass instead of a thumb, and you whine out, hips bucking at it, and you feel your ass stretch around it, making little noises as he goes in deeper.

“So tight, fuck. Pussy and that little ass mmm. Perfect Princess.” You’re lost in the sensations, lost in his touch, lost in how much he makes you feel, and you just let go, sobbing his name out as your body trembles and spasms, your orgasm so intense it makes your knees buckle, and now you can’t even hold up, you’re pressed against the table, legs useless.

“S-Sugu-ru. S’good yes please. More.” He groans then, fucking your cunt with his huge cock, fucking your little ass with his finger, and you’re spilling all over him, tightening around him, overstimulated and blinded by how good he makes every bit of you feel.

“Close Princess. Let me paint this pretty ass, yeah?” You tense a bit in anticipation, as it was not something Geto had done with you yet.

“Mnh, go ‘head, cum on me Sugu.” He groans, fucking you into another orgasm before he yanks out, and you feel hot, sticky white ropes decorating your overheated skin, and hear Suguru moan low in his throat.

“Holy fuck that is so hot. I need a picture.” You giggle at him. “Just kidding, love… but not really?”

“You’re somehow a gentleman and a total perv.” He smacks your butt cheek one more time, laughing a bit. “FIne, get your phone and take one.”

Suguru runs.

***

Two Days till Vacation ends

“Breakfast was so good, thank you Princess.” Suguru says softly, as he helps you wash dishes after you had just made him food, and how bad he just wants to eat you , honestly.

“Your pancakes were fluffier!” Your cheeks are pink, your eyes are glittery, and you’re so gorgeous then, when aren’t you, but you have a little sunburn that’s making you even cuter. That’s all he can ever think of, touching you, tasting you… he can’t ever get enough. “What are you thinking about, handsome?”

He’s thinking about how fucking happy he is, how much he never wants to leave, how he just wants to keep you safe from the world. He thinks of how badly he loves to please you, to see how many times he can make you cum, how messy he can get your little pussy… 

As the last plate clatters into the drying rack, Suguru turns to you, a wicked glint in his eye. "You want to know what I've been thinking about, Princess?" He asks, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.

"What, Sugu?" You dry your hands now too, then he’s there, big hands on your hips, gripping, you tilt your head to look up at him, meeting his honeyed eyes.

"This." Before you know it, he's lifted you onto the counter, your legs dangling over the edge. The cool marble sends a shiver through you, and he kisses you deeply, his hands sliding up the outside of your thighs.

“Mnh!” You’re meeting his lips for each kiss, his tongue, sliding into your mouth then, before he pulls away, leaving you breathless, and looks at you with an intensity that makes your heart race.

"I want to taste you again," he murmurs, his voice a low growl. And with that, he's spreading your legs wide, your feet dangling, and he's on his knees in front of you, your pussy starts dripping like on command. God anything he does makes you wet, but especially when he just… worships you like this. “Want me to, Princess?”

You lean back on your elbows, running his silky long locks back, trembling as he kisses up your thighs, teasing you with feather-light touches until you're squirming. “You don’t have to ask, of course I do, Sugu. Please .”

His mouth is hot and wet against your skin, and you feel yourself getting wetter by the second, that tightening in your tummy as he slides off your shorts, leaving you bare to his gaze. Suguru kisses right next to your glistening pussy, sighing, his hot breath making you ache, gripping his hair maybe too tightly. Then you grab your ponytail.

“Wait…” He peeks up, and you sit up more, taking his long silky locks that fall in front of his face, and putting them up in a ponytail. He smirks at you, looking far too attractive now.

“Some expert now, huh? Coming prepared.” You giggle, shaking your head and running a thumb down his lower lip softly, but the giggles stop when his tongue is there, sliding through your folds, and you gasp. He's so gentle, his hot tongue circling your clit slowly, and it sends shockwaves through your body. 

You could never get used to this, how intense he is, how he devours you like you’re his meal.

He looks up at you, those chocolate eyes full of heat, and then he sucks on your clit, hard, surprising you, but it feels so fucking good. You’re whimpering, arching your back, and he moans against you, vibrations making you tremble, your breath catching as he plays your clit like an expert, sucking and humming, his hands spreading your thighs apart.

“Cumming-Sugu! S’good…” Your entire body grows taut, stomach sucking in as your head knocks back on the cabinet above you with a thud, and he just hums again, until your orgasm crashes over you, and you're clutching the edge of the counter, your toes curling with the force of it. “Ah-f-fuckk!”

Suguru laps up every drop, his face buried in you, fingers gripping so tight against your plush thighs as you fall apart, and when you finally come down just a bit from that high, he stands, kissing up your stomach, leaving a trail of wetness until he reaches your mouth.

“Taste so fucking good, Princess.” He whispers, and you lick yourself off him, swiping your finger against his chin, then he groans at the sight, as you reach down and find him, rock hard against his boxers, making him exhale, his brows drawing low.

“Fuck me, Sugu, please .” You pout, giving him those eyes that drive him insane, and of course he’ll fuck you, god when didn’t he want to be inside you?

Suguru never wants this to end.

As he slides inside of you, you scream out, gripping his strong back, as he slides his thick cock in your eager little pussy, and fucks you right on the kitchen counter.

God you don’t ever want this to end.

***

Last Day of Vacation

Suguru is caressing your waist, as you all stand on the balcony in the night, the wind flowing through your hair, blowing the little sundress you wore around your legs. Suguru feels so good behind you, so good holding you, his strong arms, his chin resting on your shoulder, his breath on your ear. Your hands gently hold his forearms, as you lean back into the embrace.

The moon is a silver sliver, hanging in the dark sky, surrounded by glittering stars peppering the expanse of the sky, reflection on the ocean, which looks black in the night, waves gently crashing the shore. The sound of the waves is a soothing rhythm, the saltwater in the air hits your nose, along with Suguru’s scent, one that you just adore, fresh and clean.

You lean further into Suguru's embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. His hand moves to rest on your tummy now, and you feel the flutter of butterflies, all the past week he’d… cum in you. Fucked you. Even talked about how he wanted to breed you. It feels so intimate.

You've only known each other for a week, but it feels like a lifetime, like he is the only one to ever truly understand you, since that moment you met. Every moment together has been a stolen piece of time, something so special, that you’re just terrified to let it go, to go back tomorrow morning. This has been your little paradise, and now the real world will come knocking.

“What are you thinking about, Princess?” Suguru turns your face to look up at him, his dark eyes glowing amber in the night. “Tears…” He wipes two tears that trail down your cheeks.

“I’m just thinking how lucky I am, to be in your arms. How happy this week has made me. How beautiful you are, inside and out.” He exhales, grip tightening, he turns you around to face him, your back leaned against the railing, as you look up at him, caressing his chest, bared slightly in the kimono he wore.

“Princess, I’m the lucky one. I haven’t… ever been so happy.” He says, huskily, you tremble in his hold, as his words soak in. God, how he just looks at you, like you are so precious, makes your chest tighten.

“Me either, Sugu.” He bends down and kisses you softly, cupping your face in his big hands, and you fall into it, lips molding to form to his, those sparks like electric tickling your skin.

“Let me have you, Princess, one more time here.” He says softly, and you nod, sniffling then.

“I’m yours, Sugu.” He exhales at that, and then you let him pick you up, carrying you to the bed, sliding your dress up, kissing down your tummy, until his head is between your thighs.

You cry out as his mouth finds you, mouth gently kissing your entrance, tongue slipping around your clit. He eats you desperately, hungrily, moaning against you and vibrating against you and making you soak his mouth. He laps you up, every bit, sounds filling the silent room with the wide open balcony, the white curtains blowing in as you scream out.

Then, you’re flipping Suguru over, kissing down his hard abdomen, which tenses as you lick down below his belly button, that little trail of hair there tempting you. Then you take his length into your mouth, he brushes your hair that’s falling like a curtain against him, as you suck him deep, tip brushing your uvula.

“Princess, fuck you’re so good…” He urges you on, as you’re swirling your tongue around him, tasting that precum on his tip.

Then, you’re on him, sinking inch by inch, tip entering your hot, wet entrance, stretching you and making you gasp. You all had fucked many times this week, but the first thrust always took a lot, his cock wasn’t something you just got used to, no it was thick, long…

“Perfect!” You cry out, as his hands grab your hips, rocking you down on his length, watching with a groan as his cock disappears inside of your tight little entrance, entranced by it.

“Perfect. Perfect.” He whispers, urging you up and down, grabbing your ass, gripping it tightly and shoving all the way inside of you.

Your head throws back, your breasts in his face, bouncing, and he greedily sucks on the peaks, squishing the fullness of them in his big hands, you whine out as he plays with them, rough palms against soft skin. You fall forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, clinging to him, and he’s fucking up into you, deep powerful thrusts, slamming your cervix.

“Suguru! I’m gonna… oh f-fuckk, there, there!” He’s pushing you down, his breath hot against your lips as he stares into your eyes, his are lidded, thin ring of honeyed brown wrapping dilated pupils, then one of his hands brush your hair back.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs, making emotion catch in your throat, as he jerks his hips up, shifting his position inside your little cunt, and you’re shivering on top of him, cumming hard, your brow furrowing, lips parting as you cry out. “That’s it, Princess, cum all over me. Good girl.”

“Ohmyfucking-” You’re moaning into his mouth, his hands running up your back, having grown slick with sweat from riding him. Then he’s flipping you, putting your leg up high and thrusting in deep, hitting your cervix again and again, until you’re losing all your senses, but you don’t want any senses.

You just want Suguru.

He’s leaning down, his heavy weight on your breasts, his knees digging in the soft mattress, sinking you down further, the soft light from the starry sky outside casting shadows against the planes of his face. A face you love, lips, cheekbones, that cleft in his chin, that sharp jawline… that smile… but mostly? Those eyes, the slanted ones that look right into you.

You love his face.

You love the way he makes you feel.

You-

“Cum for me, Princess. Need to feel you around me.” He whispers gruffly, and you nod, sucking in a breath, as he fucks you deeper, as his hand finds you between your bodies, rubbing that little bud.

“Sugu-I…” You gulp it down, you hadn’t said it since that night, and he had not returned it. Now you were, well, scared. Scared to scare him away.

“Look at me when you cum.” Your eyes meet his, and you melt, as he’s rolling his hips, hitting your g spot then your cervix, and your clit, it’s all too much.

The pressure inside your tummy burst, and you’re gushing around him, so intense you can barely see, and Suguru’s still rubbing your clit back and forth, overstimulating you now. You’re wriggling under him, and he’s smirking, as you cum again and now your manicured nails are digging into the perfect skin on his back, and his head falls back at it.

“T’much, Sugu. T’much can’t take-mnh!” He’s unrelenting, and you’re about to cum again and it’s overwhelming, his rhythm getting jerky, hips stuttering.

“One more time, Princess. One more. With me.” He slams his lips on you, hands on your thighs, pressing deep inside you, and when he’s shooting hot streams of cum inside you, groaning on top of you, clinging to your body as he pumps, that ends you, you can’t take it.

“Love you-love you. Love. You. Sugu.” You’re mumbling incoherently, as he’s coming down a bit from the high, looking down at you then, his lips parting. You shake your head, kissing him. “S’okay, Sugu. Don’t need to say it. I’m sorry.”

He exhales, easing out of you then, laying on his side and pulling you against him, and god you fit so well. “Don’t say sorry, please. It’s nothing to apologize for… if anything it’s so-”

“No, no. I shouldn’t.” You’re tearing up then, breaths coming in little pants, and he frowns, holding you tight then, bringing you against his broad chest, so that you hear his heart beating against your ear.

“Princess, I-”

“No. Don’t say something to make me feel better.”

“What? I don’t-”

You lean up and kiss him, tears salty on your lips as the aftershocks of your climax rock through you, and you’re just trembling in his arms, his hand rubbing up between your shoulder blades, pulling you impossibly closer. He exhales into your lips, God you’d die to hear him say it. You yearn for it.

“I don’t wanna pressure or rush you, I just couldn’t stop myself. I try so hard to not say it constantly.” You’re whispering against his lips, and he kisses your forehead sweetly, pulling a blanket on you then and covering you.

“Don’t hold back with me, please, Princess. I don’t want parts of you, I want to have all of you.” At that you’re sobbing now, and he’s there as you’re shaking with the force of it, wiping your tears delicately.

“It d-doesn’t bother y-you, Sugu?” He laughs a bit, the sound is darker than you are used to.

“Bother me? The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen saying she loves me? After getting to cum in her perfect pussy? Looking at me with those well fucked eyes? Yeah no, I’d say I'm stupid lucky.” You manage a little smile, your tear-soaked lashes lowering over your cheeks. “I am not as open with my feelings, I’m scared too you know.”

“You are?” He nods, prominent adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat as he gulps, his chocolate gaze drinking you in, making your breaths calm as he reassures you more and more.

“Scared shitless. How has someone I just met gotten so special so quickly? Taken up so much space here.” He puts your hand on his chest where his heart is thudding steadily. You bite your lower lip, splaying your tiny hand on his big chest, kissing him once more, slowly, sensually.

“I have a little spot in your heart, Sugu?” You ask through watery eyes, voice shaking just a bit, and he smiles, that upturn of his lips.

“You have a very big spot, you nearly take over it. Please keep being open, and be patient, I’m not as brave as you. Short little brat.”

“Hey!” You shove at him, but he’s tickling you now, making you giggle, then cry out, you all end up a mess of tangled sheets. Until you’re both kissing, so desperately, so passionately, falling into each other, endlessly.

“I’m so sad we’re leaving.” Suguru whispers soon, as he’s holding you from behind, as you fit perfectly in his arms.

“I am too. But, this won’t end, right? Just we won’t have the time.”

“We’ll make time. Fuck you on my desk at work.”

You flush, turning to look at him. “What!?”

“Absolutely. This ass bent over? Umph.” You giggle at that, shaking your head as he grabs said ass.

“You’re so obsessed with it!”

“Sure fucking am. It’s a close favorite, but pussy and pretty face win. Face number one, but they come close.”

“You’re so silly. I can’t pick a favorite part… I guess, the entire body second? And this gorgeous face first. Especially these eyes.” He laughs a bit at that, pressing kisses across your face. “I can’t wait to introduce you… if you want… to my friends? My mom? Is that weird so soon?”

“No, it’s not weird. I look forward to it. And you’ll meet my friends, trust me they’re all messed up.”

“I’ll fit right in!”

You both laugh at that, and then before you know it, you’re asleep in Suguru Geto’s arms, the man you’ve so quickly fallen head over heels for, with a weight in your heart as you think of going back home.

Sometime in the night, you’re tossing and turning, and screaming out in your sleep. Suguru wakes up, his eyes shooting open, and he looks down at you, his heart racing, feeling you tremble in his arms. His chest tightens as he stares at you, worry in his throat, blinking sleep out of his eyes.

“Princess?” He whispers, stroking your hair, and you whimper a bit, your eyelashes fluttering, still caught in the throes of your nightmare.

“Not good enough… not… I’m not.” Suguru’s heart aches at that, as he looks at your beautiful little face all contorted, and he tries to gently shake you, but you’re stuck in this.

“You’re more than good enough. Princess, please.” He kisses your forehead, continuing to shake you, but you’re all tense.  He wraps his arms tighter around you, his chest to your back, trying to soothe you, but your body keeps shaking, a tear slipping down your cheek, glistening in the moonlight.

“Not good ‘nuff. Dad left… Mahito was right, he was… right.” Suguru tenses at the mention of your ex fiance, the one who talked so disgustingly to you. And he doesn’t feel right hearing about your father in your sleep, he doesn’t know if you want him to know. He continues to shake you, laying on you now and tapping your cheek.

“You’re perfect. Perfect. He was wrong. Baby wake up.”

Your jaw clenches, your entire body, as if you’re in a night terror, and he slowly realizes he can’t wake you. So he just rubs your stiff arms gently, feeling emotion in his eyes as he watches this pain you’re in. He doesn’t know if he can help with this, with this unconscious pain.

“I’m here. It’s Sugu… please.” His voice breaks a bit, as you take a shaky breath, flipping over on your side, curled in a little ball.

“Don’t leave me. I’ll be good, I'll be better.”

Fuck.

Damaged didn’t even begin to describe what this man has done to you, Suguru gets fucking furious now, seething as he watches you crumble, when you deserved to have a sweet dream. And now you’re holding yourself, and he comes to cuddle you, pulling you against him.

“Sugu. Sugu, please.” Suguru brushes your now messy hair back, taking a ponytail off his wrist and putting your hair up, feeling how damp you are at your scalp, a thin sheen of sweat on your body.

“I’m here, Princess. Not going anywhere.” You seem to calm down, as if his words finally hit somewhat, much to Suguru’s relief.

“Love you. Love you Sugu. Don’t go. Please.” Suguru struggles with his emotions now, as you so desperately cling to the arm that is around you.

“I’m not leaving. I’m here.” You finally settle some, your tense body easing under his gentle rubs, and you leave him… breathless, hurt for you, angry for you, and protective of you.

He will never let you get hurt again.

***

“My jaw hurts.” You touch it gingerly, as you and Suguru are waiting at the airport, and Suguru looks at you, softly, a little sad almost. “Oh no, what’s wrong!”

“You had a nasty nightmare. It was rough.” He says, and he looks tired, bags under his hooded eyes as he rolls both of your bags and you follow.

“I’m so sorry! I kept you up-”

“Don’t apologize for bad dreams. I just wish I could have got you out of it.” You all wait in the line now, and you hold him around his waist, in the busy airport, people everywhere around you, but it feels like just you and him.

“Thank you for trying. I do have bad nightmares but I haven’t since… Well, since I’ve been with you. Was I talking in my sleep?” You look up to see his side profile, his eyes looking down a bit, making you tense against him.

“Yeah, quite a bit. It was… private things, and I don’t want to mention it, because I want to wait for you to tell me.” You sigh, mind wandering, did you scare him off? He’s so tense, did he… “Hey.”

You look up then, as he lets your bags on the floor and cups your face. “Yes, Suguru?”

“I’m not leaving okay?” At the words, out of nowhere, you start blinking back the tears, emotional as you look up at him.

“Thank you, Suguru. Thank you.” He nods a bit, kissing you gently, right in front of anyone who could see. Mahito had been ashamed of you, but Suguru? He seemed proud.

“Cheer up Princess, we’re gonna have a good flight. Mile high club maybe?” You flush then, as he chuckles, and pulls you against his chest.

You all sit in the same seats you did last time, but now you’re both right against each other, your head on his shoulder, his big hand possessive on your leg, and as the turbulence hits, you’re unafraid. Suguru is holding your hand, brushing his fingertips along your delicate knuckles, kissing your hand like the damn gentleman he is, with those soft, firm lips.

“Ugh, I love you so much.” You curse then. “Shit!”

“It’s all right. Don’t hold back. I’m here, okay?” He’s so supportive, as he kisses your cheek now, brushing back your hair. “So who are you meeting first? My crazy ass best friend maybe?”

You giggle at that, heart aching for him, tummy in knots. “I’d love to meet your best friend. Family, friends, whoever you want to introduce me to. I’d love you to meet my mom too!”

He hesitates a bit. “Do you… have a dad too? Sorry if that’s too personal.”

Your heart stutters, as you look down and think about him, the man who left you at age ten, the man you’ve not had in your life. The original man to make you feel not good enough. “I don’t have a dad, no. My mom, she’s amazing! You’ll freaking love her so much, and she’ll love you.”

“I look forward to it. Your dad… is not in the picture?”

“Not since I was ten. Don’t really remember much. He just left one day, so it’s been me and mom.” You look away, shoving in deep emotions.

“I’m glad you’re close.”

“Do you have parents, Suguru?”

“Uh… no. I don’t.” At that you blink, staring up at him, your heart in pieces, how could you not know this about him!? How had you not-

“I am awful, why haven’t I even asked!? I’m so sorry. I’m too selfish and absorbed in-”

“Stop it. Now,” he orders, and you suck in a breath. “I didn’t ask about your family until now either. I didn’t have time between…” He leans in, caressing your cheek gently, mouth on your ear. “Fucking your brains out, now did I?”

Your body reacts vividly, you can’t even breathe, as desire hits, of all the positions Suguru had you in, of all the kisses, the hands entwining, the orgasms all over his face, his mouth, his hands. His hand on your thigh squeezes gently, and you shift in the airplane seat.

“Y-yeah, I didn't have time, cumming so much… to ask.” You whisper back, and he pulls back with hungry eyes. “I want to know you, Sugu. All of you.”

“So do I, Princess. Give it time.” He was right, no wonder he did want to wait a bit unlike you, a spouting mess of feelings. You nod, and he captures your lips in a searing kiss, one that makes your nipples tighten against your bra, makes your thighs rub together. “Is my Princess so insatiable?”

He pulls a blanket over you both then, raising the arm rest, and you tremble as he looks around, then smirking down at you with a seductive glint in his chocolate eyes. You bite your lower lip, and then his hand slides up your thigh…

“Suguru…” You whisper his name, and he raises a brow.

“Yes, Princess?”

“What-”

“Shh. Gonna get your mind off things.” His hand slides under the blanket up your thigh, then he cups you under your dress.

You gasp.

Chapter 9

Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56577688/chapters/147289141

[haveihitanerve]

I am a proud Bruce Wayne can cook believer so I, a humble tumblr user, request Bruce cooking with his family.

YES. sorry that was loud. But yes 100%. i gotchu

Dick: Dick awoke to the sound of sizzling. He slipped out of bed slowly, padding down the stairs into the kitchen. Alfred was off on a little veteran excursion with old friends, and it was just him and Bruce in the manor for the week.

Bruce was standing at the stove, humming along to the soft music playing, an apron wrapped around his waist as he flipped something in a pan with one hand, messing around with a spatula in the other. He turned when Dick entered the kitchen, smiling.

"Hey chum, you're awake! Wanna help me cook some breakfast?" Dick nodded, climbing onto a chair to peek at the eggs Bruce was making. "I'm making omelets. They're simple and quick and provide you with lots of good protein and vegetables." Bruce informed him, lifting him off the chair and onto his hip instead, handing him the spatula.

"Go on, flip it." Dick laughed, leaning over the pan to flip the omelet. "Nice work chum!" Bruce cheered, sliding the finished omelets onto two plates. "Now we make some bacon- and.." Dick leaned against Bruce's chest, watching as he easily moved around the kitchen, explaining every step as he went. It was nice. Cozy. Domestic.

Jason: Jason awoke to the smell of frying bacon. He slid down the banister into the kitchen, and padded over to Bruce's side, who was leaned against the counter, drying dishes. "Hey Jay lad." Bruce greeted with a smile, bending down to lift him up. "What's up?"

"What're you making?" Jason asked around a yawn, peering around the kitchen for the source of the smell. "Oh," Bruce grinned, bending down so he could peer into the oven. "I'm making breakfast muffins. They've got bacon, eggs, cheese, and jalapeños." Jason's stomach rumbled and Bruce laughed, standing again.

"It'll be ready in a few Jay." He plopped Jason on the counter, grabbing a cookbook off the shelf. "In the meantime, wanna help me get started on this pot roast for dinner?" Jason nodded, running his hands along the old, yellowed pages of the cookbook. Bruce smiled as he watched him, collecting the ingredients.

"It was my mothers." He informed him, picking the recipe. "and one day," He bopped Jason's nose with a spoon. "It might be yours." Jason smiled.

Tim: Tim awoke to the sound of clanging dishes. That was... strange. Tim jumped out of bed, hand closing around his bo staff. His parents were off on another one of their little adventures. He was home alone. There wasn't anyone else in the house. Or, not supposed to be.

Tim crept down to the kitchen, keeping his back against the wall, before slowly peering inside. Bruce was standing at the sink, filling dirty pots and pans with soapy water, an apron wrapped around his waist, though clearly not big enough for him, so Tim assumed it belonged to the old cook who must have left it when Janet fired her.

"Uh," Tim cleared his throat and stepped into the kitchen, leaving his staff in the hallway. "Bruce? What are... you doing here?" Bruce turned to face him, smiling brightly.

"Timmy! You're awake! Lovely, sorry to drop by unannounced, but you mentioned yesterday not eating breakfast lately, and, well, I figured I'd stop by and make you something." He wiped his hands on a towel, suddenly seeming a little nervous. "If- if that's all right?" Tim nodded slowly, unsure.

"Uh, yeah- yeah no that's fine. What um, what for though?" As far as he was concerned, Robin hadn't done anything wrong lately, and he definitely hadn't done anything that warranted Bruce coming over to make him breakfast. Unless this was Bruce's way of softening the blow of firing him... Something curdled in Tim's stomach.

But Bruce smiled, set at ease again, and turned to his dishes. "Oh no reason, you just mentioned not having eaten breakfast and well," he laughed lightly, sticking a brush into the sink to help his cleaning. "Its... a little bit of a tradition, you know." He shrugged. "For me to cook something. For every Robin. You don't, uh, live at the manor, but that doesn't mean you should miss out."

Tim blinked in confusion. Bruce was... openly sharing a Robin tradition with him? That was new. Bruce sighed, apparently knowing it to, and turned back around. "I'm sorry Tim, I should... this is weird.. I should have told you I'd be coming and... you're permanent Tim."

Tim stared at him wide eyed. "I'm what?" He repeated, utterly confused and a little scared. "You're permanent." Bruce repeated, eyes utterly serious. "i know I haven't always been the best towards you, but I'm trying. I want to- I want to fix that. And be there for you. Like your parents should be. I'm not trying to replace them- I just want you to know I'm here and-"

He was rambling, words moving too fast for Tim's ear to pick up, his own cheeks flushed as his hands moved awkwardly in his haste to explain. Tim didn't care. He'd stopped listening after 'you're permanent'.

Before Bruce had a chance to react, before Tim could stop and think more about what he was doing, he was across the room, his arms wrapped around Bruce's torso. Tim's mind finally connected to his body and he tensed, waiting for Bruce to push him away, to say "no thats not what I meant"... but after a short pause, Bruce's arms wrapped around him.

He was warm and strong and solid, firm and protecting. "I've got you Tim," Bruce whispered, his breath tickling Tim's ear, but the words sweeter than anything he'd ever heard. "You're permanent."

Steph: Steph didn't know how he was in her house. She wanted to know how he'd found her much less. As Bruce Wayne, even, not as Batman. She just stared at him. At Bruce. Standing in her kitchen, awkwardly, holding a Walmart bag of groceries. He cringed, lifting said bag. "You wanna make some waffles?"

Stephanie didn't even know what her life was, anymore. Here she was, ex-robin, remade Spoiler, standing in her cramped, crappy kitchen apartment, making waffles with fucking Batman, except it wasn't Batman, it was Bruce, and he was wearing her obnoxious purple apron and was singing along to her horrible music taste and he was good at singing damn it, and he was laughing at her jokes and even making his own and he even let her lick the spoon and the waffles looked delicious and...

"Why are you here Bruce?" She asked finally, while they were waiting for the last waffle to finish, and Bruce had already moved on to do the dishes for her. "Hm?" Bruce returned, pretending like he hadn't heard her, or understood her, though she could tell by the way his shoulders tensed that he had.

"Why are you here?" She repeated, crossing her arms. Bruce sighed, shoulders slumping. "Because I messed up." He whispered quietly. Steph stilled. "What?"

"I messed up." He repeated, and returned to his scrubbing, doing it more forcefully than necessary, and not turning around to face her. "I- I shouldn't have fired you Stephanie." And that was when the world slid out from under her feet.

"W-what??" She exploded. Bruce bit his lip, knuckles white on the scrubbing brush. "It- it was wrong of me to fire you. I- I'm sorry." And any fight she was gearing up for went out of her. "I was just so mad, and- and I was missing Tim and Dick and Jason and everyone... and its no excuse." He turned, finally, meeting her eyes. "Its no excuse. Not for how I treated you, not for any of it. And, I'm sorry."

Steph stared at him, rendered speechless for the first time in her life. Bruce fidgeted under her stare, but to his credit did not move away, or break eye contact, or flee. "Why now?" She finally managed to squeeze out. Bruce sighed, and it seemed like enough of an acceptance of his apology for now that he turned around again, and resumed doing the dishes.

"I don't know. I guess... I guess because I realized I hadn't done it with you yet." he gestured to their pile of waffles. "Cooked. Cooked for you. I cook for every Robin. For every Robin I've ever had I've cooked. And I- I didn't do it for you. And its because you weren't there for very long but truly its because I didn't want to. I didn't want you to be Robin. Because that meant Tim truly was gone. Because I only get a new Robin when the old one is gone. Gone for good." He shrugged. "There's no excuse."

"Those sounded like some pretty good ones right there." Steph joked lightly. Bruce smiled at that, but still didn't turn around. "But they aren't." Steph swallowed, and slowly walked closer, taking a rag and slowly drying off the dishes he finished.

They worked in silence for a while, until all the dishes were cleaned and put away again, and Steph motioned him to sit down at her rickety old table, and served them waffles.

"I forgive you." She said finally, when they had both eaten their fill. Bruce looked at her. Clearly shocked, but... listening. Staying. She loosed a breath, leaning back in her chair the way Jason had taught her.

"I forgive you because... because you have some pretty good reasons and because... well these waffles are really good." That got a smile, a crack in his mask, and Steph smiled back before she could stop it.

"But mostly..." His smile faded and he waited. Waited. Stayed. "But mostly I forgive you because you apologized. And because I want to. Because well," She smiled ruefully. "Robin can't ever stay mad at Batman for too long can he?" Bruce smiled back, smaller, more subdued, but he smiled back. "No," The words sounded almost sorry. "No he cannot."

Damian: Damian awoke to the smell of home. But... that wasn't right. He wasn't home. Not, not at home. He was at the Manor. At Home home. But the smell...

Damian slipped out of bed, walking to the kitchen. He found Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Steph there, yelling at each other and cooking, Bruce and Jason doing the most work while Steph handed them things, Tim read stuff aloud from a big yellow cookbook, and Dick watched, occasionally sampling things and calling for more of something.

"What's going on?" Damian asked, and his words cut through the chatter like a knife. Silence fell. Damian regretted speaking immediately, wishing he hadn't come downstairs at all. But Bruce turned with a smile, still stirring something that smelled so familiar.

"Hey Dami," he greeted, nodding his head for him to come closer. "Happy Birthday. We just decided we'd get together and make you something special for breakfast." Tim nodded and he and Dick herded him to the table, sitting him down and tying a napkin around his neck.

Jason appeared from the kitchen, carrying a tray that wafted like home. "We made a bit of everything," He eldest brother said with a sheepish smile. "Wasn't sure which you'd like." He set the tray down and Damian couldn't stop the tears from welling up, not as he beheld the staples, the dishes Mama had made him. That he had shared with Grandfather.

"Wh- why? What?" Damian looked around at all the sweaty, proud, flour covered faces, beaming at him from around the table. "Do you not like?" Bruce asked in concern, brows furrowing.

"NO!" Damian returned, a little too forcefully, cheeks turning pink. "No." he said, a shade quieter. "Its lovely, but, but why?" Steph grinned, leaning over to ruffle his hair. "Because, little moon, it's Robin tradition that Bruce cooks for you. And, well, since we're fairly certain you're gonna be the last of us,"

"I don't think B's hair can take anymore." Jason grumbled. Tim snickered in agreement and Bruce smacked the back of his head with a small, fond smile as Jason ducked, laughing lightly. Steph rolled her eyes at them, winking at Damian as she continued. "We figured the rest of us would pitch in too." Dick grinned, leaning over to pour him a glass jellab. "Happy Robin Birthday Damian."

[aangelinakii]

BREADWINNER.

— ( try not to ) kiss the cook.

summary : you spend a morning with your boyfriend while he cooks breakfast, and you try so desperately not to kiss him. but that's what the apron says, right?

not proofread !

as your eyes flickered open, pulled away from slumber, the sickly sweet aroma of burnt sugar wafted through your senses. bringing a lazy hand to rub at your sandy eyes, you glanced over at the space next to you. the bedding had been left messy where he'd left you, warmth still radiating from where he'd slept there.

with a groan as you stretched out your achingly tired limbs, you pulled yourself to your feet, your toes drinking in the plushness of the slippers angled perfectly next to your side of the bed.

trudging out of the bedroom, slippers softening the blows of your feet on the floorboards, you followed your nose to the kitchen, where your boyfriend stood in front of the stove, back turned to you.

from here, with the pale sunlight slipping through the blinds, every crevice lining his back pulled you further into the room. his shoulders were wide and angular, the product of his line of work, and years of gymnastic training. despite the smoothness of his skin, owning a soft glow in the morning light, he had a few scars here and there; one that stood out to you sat along his lower back, that you now made a conscious effort not to touch once you'd done so before and he flinched.

on his lower half he donned blue plaid pyjama trousers – a pair that he wasn't wearing when he'd gone to sleep with you the night before. as sunny as the mornings were, they were also chilly.

but what was new about this morning attire was the pink ribbon tied in a bow just above the scar on his lower back. where'd this come from?

"good morning, handsome," you hummed as you leaned against the kitchen table, voice still raspy from waking up.

surprised by the sound of your voice, dick's quiet humming of frank sinatra songs cut short, and he spun around to face you, one hand still holding his spatula. "hey!"

your eyes roamed the new addition to his outfit; the pink apron covering his toned chest, protecting his torso from any food stains or burns. right in the middle, in a lace-adorned white heart, wrote the words kiss the cook! in italic lettering. no need to tell you twice.

his lips pulled up into a bashful grin. "i wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed."

at the sweet sincerity of his words, your lips pulled up, too, and you slowly approached. stepping closer to him, you snaked an arm around his waist, perching your chin on one of those broad shoulders of his, and he turned back around to work on the sugary pancakes in his frying pan.

"i mean, i'm still surprised," you chuckled, watching from over his shoulder as he skilfully flipped over the pancake. "you didn't have to do all this."

"i know," dick replied, voice somewhat small and soft. from where you stood, chest pressed to his back, you could feel his words vibrate through his body as he spoke, rumbling with adoration. "but i know you've had a rough week, so i wanted to do something nice."

your gaze flickered from the creamy, sizzling pancake in the frying pan, up to his face. you could only see about a quarter of it from your view, but that one quarter filled you with warmth, sweet, sweet warmth.

the curve of his soft cheek, and the way his long eyelashes fluttered with each blink. the angle of his nose, and the way it subtly hooked; a part he was more insecure about, but something you loved. he hadn't done his hair yet since waking up, so his raven locks sprouted out every which way; messy, but in an almost intricate way.

with the hum of a lovesick chuckle, you pressed your lips softly against dick's cheek. "you patrol the streets every day. i should be doing something like this for you."

once you pulled away, your free hand moving from your side to cup his other shoulder, thumb caressing soft lines against his skin, your eyes caught sight of the faint pink tinge gracing what you could see of his cheek. beneath your hand, the muscles in his shoulder moved, as he brought both up in a bashful shrug.

"sure, but i wanted to do this for you."

he took a step back, and you unattached yourself from him, and he moved the pancake from the pan onto a plate, which had been stacked with a few already.

"take these to the table, will you?" he suggested, sending a glance back your way.

manoeuvring around him, you pulled the two pancake-ridden plates from the counter beside him, and moved them onto the table, placing each at opposite chairs, so you could look at each other as you ate.

when dick joined you, taking his place on the other side of the table, he'd brought over cutlery and a bottle of maple syrup.

with a sigh, he moved his arms behind him, readying to untie his apron, but you weren't ready for it to go so soon.

"hey!" you gasped, mouth half-full of maple-drenched pancake already. "what do you think you're doing?"

he'd frozen in the middle of removing the apron when you spoke, his expression a combination of shock and puzzlement. "getting.. ready to eat?" he replied, more of a question than a statement.

"and you think you can just take off the apron?" a laugh brushed past your teeth as you chewed your breakfast.

after a moment of bewildered silence, dick gave a shrug, his muscles tensing. "yeah?"

you swallowed the food – delicious, by the way – and leaned forward in your seat, arms outstretched to pull the loop back over his head, a grin on your lips. "we need to know who made this amazing breakfast."

once realising what you're talking about, dick reversed his movements behind his back, and began retying the bow of his apron, a small smile on his lips.

"and look at that," you hummed, pointing at his chest in feigned surprise. "the apron is basically forcing me to give my compliments to the chef."

at this, dick's smile revealed his shining white teeth, his boyishly cute laugh accompanying it. and, as you leaned closer, his eyes closed, lips meeting yours in the middle for a short embrace.

when you pulled away, moving back in your seat to resume eating, your boyfriend gave a chuckle, and you glanced up, shovelling some more of your breakfast into your mouth. "what's up?"

"your lips are sticky," he grinned, glancing away from you.

unconsciously, your tongue flicked out between your lips, and you shook your head bashfully.

"just shut up and eat your breakfast."

[sunflowersandsapphires]

A Brewing Storm

In All The World, Chapter 1.2

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: This series of one-shots follows Matt and the music teacher he is steadily falling for, despite her distant familial connection to The Punisher.

warnings: angsty Matthew, Matt and Frank being little shits (mostly Frank), fluff, hints at smut

w/c: 2.3k

a/n: I KNOW THIS DIDN’T WIN THE POLL BUT I WASN’T ABLE TO FINISH THE OTHER FICLET, I’M SORRY! I hope this is a decent consolation prize for you all. The comfort piece should be done by next week! 

There are a few things mentioned in this chapter that I won’t go into unless people are interested but here’s the rundown: Matt and Reader started their relationship after her testimony, though the trial had not yet ended. The ABA code of ethics doesn’t really have much to say about attorneys and witnesses, but the general rule is after they’ve testified (as long as the trial isn’t discussed) they can begin a personal relationship. The ethics rules are much more concerned about lawyers and their clients than witnesses. However, Matt asked her out during proceedings so, in his head, he did something wrong. I wasn’t planning on writing their beginning, but if that’s something you all are interested in, let me know!

Trusting the men to keep their word, you left Frank standing over the door mat while you grabbed some bath towels and a jacket he'd forgotten on your couch months ago. Returning to a room frigid with their disdain for each other, you stifled an eye roll while you passed over the items in your hold. “Here. Dry off if you can. Are you hungry? I can set another place for dinner.”

Matt stiffened from his seat at the table, blowing an annoyed breath out of his nose. Smirking in satisfaction, Frank rubbed the towel over his hair, splattering your floor with leftover rain. “Sure, kid.”

Pretending not to see your boyfriend's twisted frown, you padded over to the stove to scoop the remaining noodles into a clean bowl.

“Ok, it's not much, but I wasn't planning on cooking for three–”

“How long?” Came Frank's curt question.

Running the tip of your tongue against your molars, you blew out a breath, shoving Frank's food over to him.

“Um...”

“Eight months.” Matt answered, chest puffing out ever so slightly. Swatting at him with a glare, you grimaced as Frank gnashed his teeth again.

“For fuck's sake. During the trial?”

“Well, that is how we met.” Matt snapped back, posture rounding as the Devil slipped back into control.

“And you thought what, Red? That you could treat my case like your own personal dating pool? You of all people know how dangerous that was for her.”

“I think we are all familiar with the risks taken last summer.” You retorted, taking your seat at Matt's side, letting your knee brush against his in what you hoped was a grounding touch.

What Frank was insinuating wasn't far fetched. You had run into trouble after coming forward as a character witness, but your relationship with Matt hadn't caused that, your role in the trial had. No matter how much guilt he carried over the incident, your boyfriend was in no way responsible for the actions of the Kitchen Irish. Matt regularly got stuck in his head, castigating himself for giving in to temptation. Despite making it ostentatiously clear that you were interested in him from the moment you met, your self-conscious partner was convinced he’d somehow violated an unwritten code of ethics and manipulated you into going out with him. It had taken months of promises before Matt began to believe that your consent had been honest and voluntary the whole time–his fragile acceptance would surely combust if Frank continued to cast more doubt over the dubious start of your relationship. He didn’t need anyone’s help to make him feel like a monster.

Matt nudged your knee with his in response to your touch, though his expression was stony. You could see his walls going up brick by brick, his confidence waning as someone confirmed his worst fears.

“Are 'we'? Cause I, for one, ain’t dyin’ for you to be bleedin’ out in my bathroom again.” Frank hissed, eyes still locked on Matt as he referenced your previous injuries. “You think she's safe with you? You can’t protect her. Fuck's sake, Red–you're covered in blood at her table right now. She doesn't need to be dragged into your bullshit–”

“Enough.” You snarled, cutting Frank off. Inhaling deeply, you lowered your voice and softened your tone. “Matt, can you give us a minute, love?”

Ignoring Frank's sneer at the pet name, you placed a hand over Matt's knee, rubbing circles into it with your thumb. “Can you wait for me in my room? I'll be right in.”

“I can just go home,” Matt shifted uncomfortably, looking defeated and agonized as he slowly clambered to his feet.

“I’ll only be a minute, love. Don't leave yet please.” You squeezed his hand where it hung limp by his side, hoping that his barely noticeable nod was conveying his true intentions.

You set your jaw, watching Matt stalk into the bedroom before whirling towards Frank who was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, looking all too pleased with himself. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Frank?”

“There ain’t nothin’—”

“Nope, it's not your turn yet.” You bit out, cutting him off. “I'm not unhappy to see you, because it means you're still breathing, but you have some damn nerve coming into my house and speaking to my boyfriend as if I'm not in the room. I am not an object, nor am I anyone’s property. You do not get to dictate what is or isn't good for me, regardless of how you feel about it.“

Frank winced slightly, but he didn’t make any other indication that your words were getting through his thick skull.

Sitting back in your seat, you clasped your hands in your lap. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Frank. Lord knows you've saved my life more times than I can count, but Matt is good for me. Your views on our start and on him as a person won't change that.“

Frank scoffed, rolling his eyes to the popcorn ceiling. You grit your teeth. “Alright, if you want to be pissed, that's your prerogative. I'm sorry you didn't find out about us directly from me, but I refuse to accept full responsibility for that because you haven't responded to me for months. You don't get to just pop back into my life when it's most convenient for you.”

The towering man didn’t respond. Fine. If he wasn't in a headspace to hear what you had to say, then you were done talking. Stretching over to a nearby cabinet you pulled out a tupperware and tossed it to him. He caught it without glancing up.

“Have a good night, Frank. Text me if you ever decide you want to listen. And take that food home with you or I will be obligated to hunt you down.”

Using the seat of your chair to leverage your weight, you stood up and paced away from Frank, crossing your fingers that Matt was still in the bedroom when you reached it.

Matt’s hearing was powerful enough to register conversations a block away, let alone one room over, so ignoring the voices beyond your bedroom walls should’ve been difficult. However, Frank’s implications had worn him down, rehashing a mess of anxiety and spurning his feelings of unworthiness. If you hadn’t asked him to stay, he would’ve gone back out to find a distraction lurking in the city streets before passing out on any surface in his apartment. Instead, he lay in your bed, coiled in a ball beneath the sheets, drained of energy–feeling small and useless.

Frank apparently didn’t have much more to say because it was only minutes before he heard you approaching the closed door obscuring him. Your footfalls were light, as always. You did whatever you could to make his existence easier. It was one of the many reasons he loved you. 

Your heartbeat grew stronger as you entered, leaving the door open only briefly in an effort to preserve the hideout Matt had taken shelter in. Gently crouching until you were seated on the mattress, you curled your body around Matt’s–shielding him from the abundance of sensory input and surrounding him with the subtle scent of your body wash. It was warm and sweet, comforting like the brief whiff of sugar you smell when walking past a bakery. A stark contrast to the harsh remnants of gunpowder and leather drifting in from Frank’s now abandoned seat. 

“How much of that did you hear?” You asked, tracing over his prickly cheek with a finger. 

“Bits and pieces.” Matt exhaled roughly. “Did you want me not to listen?”

“Sweetheart, I would never ask that of you. That’s not really something you can control when we’re twenty feet away.” Turning his head into your touch, Matt placed a gentle kiss on the pad of your finger. You took a moment to study him, heart clenching at the weary expression on his face. His posture was tight, you could tell he was holding back. “C’mere, lovely.” 

At your prompting, Matt’s blank face twitched, his sorrow peeking through as he shifted on the mattress.

“I’m sorry I let him in.” You murmured, threading your fingers into Matt’s hair as he wriggled until his face was squished into your stomach. “I should’ve forced him to calm down, or take it out on me. It wasn’t fair to subject you to that.” 

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” Matt chuckled breathily, the sound coming out choked with emotion. 

“I know, handsome. But that doesn’t mean you deserve to be screamed at over a misunderstanding.” Sliding down until Matt was resting against your chest, you tucked his head under your chin, wrapping him in an embrace. He hummed against you, not trusting himself to speak on the matter.

“Matty, you do know that what he said was complete and utter horseshit, right?” Your blunt question made him snort, the noise muffled against your collarbone. “No, I’m serious. He was mad that we caught him off guard, so he said that crap to get under your skin. Classic Frank tactic. He did the same shit when we were kids.”

“Did he really?” Came Matt's amused question.

“Oh yah. He’s damn good at it too. The day I knocked him off the Dig Dug leaderboard at our local arcade, he told me I was adopted. My parents were FURIOUS to hear he’d let that cat out of the bag.” You laughed, your nose crinkling as you pictured Frank hanging his head on your family’s tattered leather couch as he got chewed out by your dad.

Matt made a mournful noise, pressing impossibly closer. Rubbing his shoulders with a flat hand, you kissed his crown. “But, the next week, he took me back to the arcade so I could show him how I did it. And when the dude running the candy counter made a sexist comment about how I shouldn’t even be there, Frank forced him to apologize.” 

“What’d he do? Shoot him?” Matt asked dryly. 

“Just a stern talking to. With his fists.” You joked, pinching Matt’s waist. His lips tickled your skin as he smiled. 

“Moral of the story is: Frank speaks without thinking sometimes, just like the rest of us. And he tends to be protective of the people he cares about, myself included.” Sliding your hand beneath Matt’s shirt, you cradled his waist tenderly, drawing delicate patterns with your thumb. “You have that in common.” 

“A talent for lashing out?” Matt quipped. 

Ignoring his attempt to deflect, you continued. “You want to protect me.”

“Apparently, I’m not as good at it as I thought.” Matt remarked icily. 

“Yes. You are.” You poked him, tone stern. “You protect me and the rest of Hell’s Kitchen every day, regardless of what Frank thinks. You are an amazing man and a wonderful partner, and I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything, love.” 

“I love you.” Matt whispered reverently, feeling his insecurities beginning to subside. You always had that effect on him. Your melodic voice and persistently kind nature acting as a life preserver when his own mind seemed determined to drown him. 

“And I love you, Matty. All of you. Always.” Cupping his chin with one hand, you drew him towards your face, pecking his lips lightly. “Why don’t I help you change out of your suit so we can shower? If I’m tired, I know you’ve gotta be wiped out.”

Smirking, Matt cocked his head at you—his confidence finally reappearing after the disaster of a night you’d had. “Are you trying to get me naked, sweetheart?”

“Desperately.” You muttered, trailing a finger over the waistband of his pants. “I have not seen nearly enough of you today.”

“It must be so difficult for you,” He lamented, flopping flat on the mattress with a sigh. “Not seeing your partner.”

Snorting out a laugh, you shoved his chest playfully. “Both of us know that is not what I meant.”

He chuckled, fingers of his left hand loosening the knot of rope around his other wrist.

“Let me,” You suggested, cradling Matt’s dominant hand with both of your own, rotating it and unwinding the cord with a gentle tug. As the dirt and blood stained material fell from Matt's arm, it revealed a crisscross pattern of reddened indents in his skin—angry from being bound by the woven line for so long. Tutting in sympathy, you bent forward, kissing the marks gently before releasing your hold.

Without speaking, you tangled your fingers around his other arm, inching one finger beneath the rope, repeating the motions until he was free of them. Trailing another line of kisses down his arm towards his palm, you smiled triumphantly.

With two fingers, you pried the hem of his shirt away from his sweaty abdomen. ”May I?”

Matt nodded, a lopsided smile hanging on his lips as he arched his back off the mattress to allow you to remove his top. Rolling the fabric up and over his head, you dragged your nails up his spine, grinning at the soft whine you got in response.

“Feel good, Matty?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound dissipated into a moan when you licked a stripe over his pulse point.

“How about I mark you up this time, hm? Take care of you first for once?”

Matt rumbled beneath your lips with a small moan, his head falling back as he arched off the mattress. 

Giggling, you dragged your teeth over the pulsing vein in his neck, provoking a soft mewl in the back of Matt’s throat. “C’mon, sweet boy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Leaping from the bed, Matt flew after you, snatching you by the waist and locking your lips together as you clumsily stumbled toward the bathroom. 

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @abucketofweird @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Can we see Alfred and shop girl bonding in the Other Half?💕

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Warnings: Mostly fluffy, with a peppering of angst; Shop Girl has nightmares; this is an Alfred-centric chapter for obvious reasons

“I known Frank twenty years. I do that to him, can you imagine what I’ll do to you?”

The words are drowned by a gunshot, and a cruel laugh—

You’re sitting up and scrambling to turn the lamp on before you can stop yourself. You heave in tight, panicked breaths as your memory still crowds behind your eyes and rings through your ears. You look around the bedroom, and for once, you’re relieved to find Bruce’s side of the bed empty. Ever since you’ve returned to Gotham, he’s been hesitant around you. His worry hasn’t disappeared, but he’s been far more careful about voicing that concern. 

You draw a deep breath in through your nose, forcing yourself to hold it for ten seconds before slowly blowing the air out again. You can feel the panicked pounding of your heart as you begin to adjust to your reality, away from your nightmare. 

You look around the dim room, stomach churning in discomfort at the thought of laying back down and trying to fall back asleep with the memories of the kidnapping so close to the surface. You push the sheets aside, tucking your feet into your slippers and taking your bathrobe up from where you’d hung it over the footboard. You pull it open, yawning widely as you head for the door. 

It’s a short trip to the kitchen, but you’re surprised to find the lights on, and Alfred puttering around. 

“Alfred?” You speak up, voice thick from disuse. You smile a little as he turns to look at you. “Is everything okay?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

You hum softly, walking over to the stove. “I wanted some tea,” You fib. “Would you like some?” 

“I’d be happy to make it.” 

“I don’t mind. You do these things for us all the time. What are you doing up, anyway?” 

“I had trouble getting to sleep, myself.” 

“Really?” You frown, turning to look at him once you’ve put the fire on under the kettle. “Are you alright?” 

“Quite alright,” He reassures with a gentle smile. “I was trying to parse whether or not Master Wayne may want to do anything for Christmas.” 

“Mm,” You nod. “A good question, consider the catastrophe that was Thanksgiving.” 

You walk over to the shelf that Alfred keeps the tea chest. 

“Would you like a biscuit with your tea?” 

“Oh, yes please,” You smile. 

“Has he said anything to you about Christmas?” 

“Not a word. But communication’s been a little…Odd since I got back.” 

“‘Odd’ how?” 

“Mm, well,” You shrug, opening the lid of the tea chest. “I don’t know, I feel like we’ve been tip-toeing around one another.” 

“That is to be expected, even if it’s uncomfortable.” 

“As long as it doesn’t become our normal.” 

“I’m certain you’ll find a way to work through it.” 

You smile as Alfred joins you at the counter with two clean mugs. 

“Thank you. Chamomile?” 

“How you know me,” Alfred chuckles. 

“Two tea bags?” 

“Yes, please.” 

You set the tea bags down in one mug before taking up a packet of sleepy time for yourself. 

“...Alfred?” 

“Yes?” 

“Can I ask…” You trail off, weighing your words as you put the tea chest away again. “When I asked Bruce about whether or not we were doing anything for Thanksgiving, you know—before the fiasco…He seemed to sort of…Glaze over.” 

Alfred purses his lips, considering. 

“The holidays have always been somewhat difficult for Mr. Wayne, but we haven't celebrated Thanksgiving since he was a very small boy.” 

“Oh…” You slouches back against the counter, scrubbing your hand across your forehead. “I wish I had known that. I’m sure this year hasn't sent him scurrying back to the table for turkey.”

“You couldn’t have known unless one of us told you,” Alfred soothes. “And if you consider it another way: the holiday can only get better going forward.” 

“...That’s certainly an optimistic way of looking at it. Though I may just hop on the bandwagon and never celebrate it again.” 

“It would certainly cut down on the dishes.” 

You snort a soft laugh, jokingly whacking his shoulder in admonishment before turning back to the stove, hearing the kettle scream. You fill each mug, glancing back as Alfred sits at the kitchen table with a plate of biscuits. You sit down across from him, passing him his tea before taking up a biscuit.

“...I take it he’s not back yet,” You hedge. 

“No…But it’s early.” 

Early. Your eyes stray to the clock. It’s nearly half past three. You shake your head a little, peering down into your tea and levering the bag in and out as you think. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“No,” You insist, “I just, um…Every once in a while I have these flashes to when I met Bruce. It was a little over a year ago now.” 

“I remember.”

“How are the gloves holding up, by the way?” 

“They’re in excellent condition.” 

“I better call my old manager. She’ll be so happy to hear it.”

The two of you share a chuckle before Alfred reaches out, resting his hand atop yours and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Drink your tea before it goes cold,” You nod toward it. “I know that drives you nuts.” 

“There is nothing worse than a cold cup of tea.” 

“So you keep telling me. What are your opinions on iced tea?” 

“That is an entirely different matter. It’s alright if the tea is cold, so long as it did not start out hot.” 

“Something tells me you’ve thought a lot about this. I’m starting to think this is what really keeps you up at night.”

“More than you could possibly imagine.” 

Next Part

[mandiemegatron]

Awwww your Story about Killer is so cute 🥰😍 can I request another one? Would be awesome to read a story where the reader starts helping Killer in the kitchen and realizes how much he's doing for the crew and how gentle and soft he is inside. And then they get closer while cooking ❤️

Hello my darling, sweet anon !!

Firstly, thank you so much for your patience in waiting for this and Secondly, please forgive me as this is a shorter one as I lost the original file for this and had to start all over. I remembered what I could but it's much shorter than i originally planned BUT ! It is sweet Killer loving times regardless, so I hope you enjoy either way ! All the good things under the cut to keep this post short for my fellow mobile friends 💖

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙆𝙚𝙚𝙥

𝙆𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙂/𝙉 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙍𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙: 𝙂 !! 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩, 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛.

ᴹᴰᴺᴵ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵃᵇᵉˡᵉᵈ ¹⁸+, ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵇˡᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ.

Thank you again anon, and I hope you enjoy ! 💖💖💖

My beta was busy unfortunately so i had to do it myself, if you see any mistakes, I'm sorry, I'm sick with the flu so blame that 😭😭😂😂

Fitting in on the Victoria Punk was somehow an easy task for you.

Always being the one to say “Yep, no problem!” to any task handed to you was one of the many reasons everyone adored you; The other was the absolutely delicious food you and Killer always managed to create and feed to the crew.

“And just a small dash of oregano…”

You watched Killer with concentrated eyes, only taking them from him and his favourite dish to smile widely up at his masked visage as he stirred the sauce boiling away in the pot.

“... and voila! The perfect spaghetti sauce.”

He gently pooled some of the sauce into a small spoon, blowing onto it through the holes in his mask as best he could before holding the spoon out for you.

You went to grab the spoon when he pulled it away, knowing he hid a cheeky look under that mask as he gave a soft “tsk,” before holding it back out to you.

You rolled your eyes playfully before taking the sauce into your mouth, humming in content as the array of flavors hit your tastebuds.

“Amazing,” you gushed as he pulled the spoon away to toss into the sink nearby. His chest puffed a bit at your praise, which you noticed immediately, a knowing smirk resting on your lips as you commented jokingly,

“You know, I really thought you were never going to show me how to make this.”

Killers head turned to you, tilted slightly as he asked genuinely,

“Really? Why so?”

You gave a small shrug, unable to meet his masked gaze as you looked out one of the large windows overlooking the Victoria.

“I'm not sure why, just felt that maybe because it's so important to you that you'd want to keep it safeguarded from everyone or something.”

Killer was silent for a moment before he went back to stirring. Once he was happy with the consistency and temperature, he turned off the stove and turned back to you, lifting your chin in one of his massive hands as he finally replied,

“It is important to me.”

Your eyes slowly rose from his chest to his mask, trying to decipher any hidden emotions behind it but found nothing.

“You are also important to me. Why would I not share this with you?”

Your heart raced at his words, your stomach churning with butterflies as your cheeks burned a dark pink.

“... oh!” Was all you could get out, truly shocked by his words.

He chuckled in reply, shaking your face slightly in his grasp before he bent down to press a masked kiss to your forehead.

“Stop thinking so little of yourself. You're incredibly important to me, and to this crew.”

He pulled back to press his mask against the tip of your nose, as if trying to press his own against yours as he murmured softly,

“I love sharing with you, and I love spending time with you, no matter what we do.”

You can't help but lean up slightly to press your lips against his mask, ignoring the small sound of surprise that leaves him as you reply,

“And I love doing things with you, especially the things you love to do.”

Your eyes stared right through the pirate, the man feeling almost naked under your gaze as you continued,

“And I love that you shared something so important with me. Thank you, Kil.”

He hums in response, clearly pleased with your words as he presses his mask to your lips again, holding you in place for a few moments before pulling away and turning back to the stove.

You notice his discreet motions of adjusting himself below before he clears his throat and gets out in a slightly higher voice,

“Let's feed some hungry men, shall we?!”

He picks up the pot and walks right past you, ignoring the chuckles from you but stops as you nearly purr at him,

“Maybe later, I can show you some of my own important things…?”

He stops right at the door out to the main eating area and slowly turns his head, staring you down as he thickly replies,

“... Don't tempt me.”

He stalks off with heavy feet before you can reply, the sound of your laughter echoing after him.

You chewed your bottom lip with a grin, thinking about the many, many things you could teach him before you picked up the other pot containing the noodles and walked after him, unable to wipe the wide grin off your face.